#he's calling me by the nickname only my sister and mom use and it's so weird not bad just strange

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

if this guy does not stop being nice to me im going to start calling him jiju

[eileennatural]

realizing that dyeing my hair this dark makes me look like my big brother who i havent really had a relationship with since i was in middle school... i'm sick i can't do this anymore

[januaryembrs]

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

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

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

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

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

series masterlist | next chapter

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer gulped quietly. 

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

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing. 

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

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

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

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

So why lie?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+1. The one where you get arrested.

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

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

Yet so was Emily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+2. The one where you graduate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bug-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t even,” 

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was when the shooting started. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could only hope Emily was safe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so they did. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

This was not good. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

2:53 stared back at her. 

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

2:54.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she saw why. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saved mine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stayed with Emily for a month after that. 

+4. The one where you leave the altar. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for being proud of my job as a regional Nightmare?

My sister told me she’s making her own post and that if I was so sure I wasn’t TA then I should make my own so here I am.

I’m a regional Nightmare. I’m very proud of how hard I worked to get here. Not many terrors in their 20s get this high up and it’s because I do the work. I get up at 8pm and I’m out in the woods grinding out those quotas until dawn. Sometimes I sleep out there in my uniform just so I can be the first on scene for the multi-part jobs. I’m efficient, I’m punctual, and I’m committed. My goal is to be a Cyptid by the time I’m 30 and, to do that, I have to stay on at all times.

As a result, I work a lot. I’m often not home for days at a time. I have a very strict training regimen and my time for friends and family is virtually nonexistent. That’s why when I do get the time to hang out, I prefer to spend my time intentionally. What I mean by that is that I don’t want to sit on a couch when I could be lifting weights. I don’t want to chill in the pool when I could be volunteering for new scares. I especially don’t want to gossip over tea when I could be getting overtime.

Last Saturday, my sister invited a bunch of family over to her house. My job in the Virginia woods fell through, so I decided to go. Silly (her childhood nickname) said she had something important to tell the family so I thought it wouldn’t be a waste of my time.

Key word: thought.

When I got to Silly’s house, I was surprised to see so many cars out front. Our parents were there and our older brother. The house was packed. There were cousins, aunts, uncles and a ton of people I didn’t know.

At first the event was fine. Silly’s always been a good cook (see, I know you’re reading this, Silly, and see? I do compliment you when do something actually good) and everyone was really enjoying the flank steak (though I did have to save it before she cooked it medium well). But as the day wore on, I could tell people were getting bored. Silly and Mom were focused on cleaning up and said that dessert would have to wait until her fiance got home. Which was kind of rude to be late and I felt really bad for Silly. It seems like my soon to be brother-in-law (BIL for short) is never around when she needs him.

In an effort to help, I engaged some of the people I didn’t know in conversation because the party was getting a little dead and I didn’t want one of my sister’s parties to fail. I was trying hard not to think about the time I was wasting waiting for my future BIL so it also served as a distraction.

It turns out one of the guys was a fellow terror. He worked a corporate job and we talked for a while about the pros of being freelance like me. He asked me a lot of questions and I was happy to mentor another terror.  Corporate can suck the art out of what we do. My clients only care if the quota for their mission is met and don’t enforce such strict timelines. They come to me for quality. Poor guy barely had time to mend his uniform between scares (his cloak was tattered and his hook hand was rusty) so I recommended my tailor and blacksmith.

The guy and I exchanged information. I gave him my business card and he looked for one of his. While he looked, I felt nature calling so I headed upstairs to use my sister’s bathroom (like hell I was going to use the same one as my Uncle Joe). From up there, I saw my future BIL pull into the driveway.

 Being a regional Nightmare is a tough job. Like I said, I have to train a lot to keep my certification. So I thought it’d be a good idea to get a scare on my BIL both to punish him for being late and to make up for all the time I’d already wasted at the party.

So I waited for him to come upstairs to change and, when he did, I pulled out the works. I darkened the room and fell back into the shadows. Then, while he groped for the light switch, I stretched out my leg (I have an extra joint in them) and tried to nudge him. I honestly didn’t expect for him to trip and I DEFINITELY didn’t expect for him to fall backwards. I’ve been practicing this skill on my family since I was sixteen and got the leg extension mod and none of them ever fell like that.

My future BIL fell down the stairs. I panicked and raced over to look over the banister. He was fine! He wasn’t bleeding or anything and, when I saw that, I started to laugh.

Everyone freaked out though. They all said I was being immature and bullying my BIL. I told them it wasn’t bullying, it was my actual job. I said that I was just joking and didn’t know my BIL, a former “Cryptid”, would take it so hard.

My mom jumped in and backed me up, but my sister has always been the Queen of the castle. Silly and Dad kicked me out ( I mean, I let them, I’ve got enhanced strength and I didn’t want to hurt them). Dad called me a disgrace and to not come back home.

I asked him if he was really kicking me out just because I wanted to show off my skills a little? And he said yes. And Silly said I had it coming to me for a long time.

I don’t even know what went wrong.

 So AITA for taking pride in my work?

---.

SillyCreeper says: Oh my god, you actually made this post? You’re an actual idiot. For anyone who believes this story, read mine before you vote. My brother left out a few details like how the party was my GENDER REVEAL PARTY and that he’s not a regional Nightmare, he’s a  Slasher for hire.

OP replies: I am TRAINED to operate as a regional Nightmare. That makes me an independent regional Nightmare.

SillyCreeper replies: Regional Nightmares don’t steal failed missions from corporate Slashers

OP replies: Get your own post, Silly

SillyCreeper: Oh, I already did. Have fun being torn apart on yours, dumbass.

-----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read Silly's AITA post a week early, please consider becoming a patron (X)!

Aita for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a Scare on my husband?

I'm working on this anthology during November and I'm having a blast with this story in particular! The family drama keeps going on and on

[punkshort]

i'll be home for christmas | part one

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, reader has a childhood nickname only her family uses, Hallmark tropes up the wazoo, soft!joel, reader's sister is pregnant, talks of infidelity, talks of divorce, alcohol use, kissing, (smut in part two)

WC: 9.1K

A/N: this is my take on a cheesy, fluffy, soft, smutty, Joel Miller Hallmark Christmas movie. It's just sweet and silly and makes me smile, and I hope it does the same for you. I also wrote this in less than 2 days and didn't really edit it much, so sorry in advance if there's any errors.

Found the pic on Twitter but can't remember the source, if you know please send me a message and i will credit them

Series Masterlist

It was the second week of December as you stood inside the airport in Austin, Texas, waiting for your luggage to emerge on the conveyor belt. You thought by coming home early, you would have avoided the holiday traffic, but you were wrong. All around you, people squealed with excitement and embraced, dragging their worn out luggage behind them as they made their way out of the bustling airport. You tried to keep the scowl from your face as you watched, but it was next to impossible, so you wrapped your Burberry scarf around your neck instead, hoping to hide your displeasure.

This was not the plan you had for Christmas. You should be in New York in a high-rise apartment in front of a roaring fireplace with a glass of wine and your fiancé - ex-fiancé - not back in Austin with your parents, who begged you to come visit for the holidays after you told them the news.

Coming home to visit wasn't your favorite thing, but you felt guilty having avoided the holidays with your family for so many years, and you would have ended up all alone in the city anyway. So you caved, using up all the PTO you saved for the wedding, and took the rest of the year off from work.

Your designer luggage stood out like a sore thumb when it tumbled down the conveyor belt. You winced after watching the impact and snatched it up quickly. Glancing around, you saw a beacon in the storm: a familiar green, glowing sign in the distance - Starbucks. The line was long, but your flight was early, so you waited and got a latte, hoping it would lift your spirits a bit before you had to face your parents.

You tapped the side of your coffee cup anxiously as you rode the escalator down to the first floor, scanning the crowd for your mom and dad. There were a few people holding up signs with names on them, and when you saw the sign that said "Bucket" on it, you cringed.

Your dad's tall, round frame came into view when the people in front of him dispersed. He looked almost exactly the same, except a little greyer. Still sporting a shockingly full head of hair and his signature thick mustache, he grinned and pulled you into a warm hug.

"Really, Dad? 'Bucket'?"

"Well, that's what we call you, ain't it?" he said with a smile. You rolled your eyes and tried to be annoyed, but you had to admit that you were happy to see him.

"Where's Mom?" you asked.

"She's waitin' in the car, didn't wanna pay for parking so we're in a pick up zone, let's hustle," he said, wrapping his arm around you as he led you outside. "How was the flight?"

"Long," you said, then gasped when the cold air hit you. "Wow, I didn't think it would be this cold yet."

"It's been a cold one so far this year," he nodded, directing you to the left where you could see your mom smiling and waving from the passenger seat of their white SUV. You waved back and grinned. Maybe coming home wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

"Hiya, Bucky!" your mom said happily, leaning out of the window to give you a half hug while your dad loaded up your belongings in the back.

"Hey, Mom," you replied. "I like your sweater."

She was wearing one of her tacky Christmas sweaters that she wore every year - unironically. It amazed you how some things never change.

You climbed into the back seat as your dad carefully exited the parking spot and joined the line of cars that were slowly inching towards the main road.

"We're so glad you decided to come home this year, you can finally see the new house!" your mom said excitedly. They had built a brand new house, and the way she provided updates and pictures to you over the phone for the past year, you felt like you had already seen it.

"Yeah, can't wait," you said, staring out the window.

"Hope you don't mind, but we're throwin' a party tomorrow night," your dad said, glancing at you in the review mirror. "Wanted to have our friends over to see the place and have an early holiday party. They'll be so happy to see you, it's been so long since you've been home, Buck."

You had been hoping to spend most of the next three weeks in bed moping and scrolling on your phone. The thought of a party and seeing all those people looking at you with pity made your stomach turn. Your mom must have sensed your discomfort.

"It's alright, honey. They won't say anything," she said softly, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"Okay," you replied, your voice pained as you opened your eyes to stare at the passing traffic on the thruway.

You'll make an appearance for an hour, and then try to sneak back upstairs until the party ends, already fabricating a headache to blame it on.

The house your parents built was impressive, even you had to admit. It was a two story colonial with four bedrooms and three bathrooms. The open floor plan was stunning as you made your way from room to room. The first floor alone had a spacious living room with vaulted ceilings, a kitchen with an attached dining room, and a separate family room off the back. There was even a small office by the front door that you missed the first time around, and a pantry as big as your closet back home.

You cringed at the thought, reminding yourself that it was no longer your home. That was part of the problem. You had moved in with Will, and when you discovered he had been cheating on you, you crashed at your friend Melanie's place. When you tearfully told your parents the news a few days later, they asked you to come home. Just for the holidays, your mom had said. Just to give you time to figure out your next move.

"This is beautiful, Mom," you said honestly, admiring the fine details on the cabinets.

"Thank you, sweetie. Took a long time, but Joel built it just right for us," she said, beaming.

"Oh, the contractor, right?" you replied, distracted now by the backsplash above the counters.

"He's such a sweet man, he was so patient with us when we changed our minds a million times over every little thing."

"Well, tell him he did a great job," you murmured, opening and shutting different drawers.

"You can tell him yourself, he'll be at the party tomorrow," your dad said, opening the fridge to scrounge for some snacks.

"You invited your contractor to your holiday party?" you asked in disbelief.

"Sure we did. We either saw him or spoke to him almost every single day for a year. He's a good man."

"Okay," you said slowly, still finding it a bit strange, but reminding yourself that things worked a little differently in the south.

"Bucket!" you heard your sister call from the front of the house. A smile plastered across your face instantly as you rushed to the door, both of you squealing as you wrapped your arms around each other and jumped in a circle, unable to contain your excitement.

"Cassie!" you said, pulling back to look at her, brushing her sleek, dark brown hair over her shoulder. "You look fantastic!"

"Ugh, I feel like shit," she said, and you laughed, glancing down at her barely swollen belly.

"How far along are you again?" you asked.

"Twenty weeks, but I'm ready for this to be over! I'm so tired all the time, it sucks," she said, flopping down on the couch in the living room after she gave your parents quick hugs.

"Where's Josh?" your mom asked, referring to your brother in law.

"He's still working, he'll be by later," Cassie said, waving her hand. "Gives us a chance to catch up," she added with a wink.

"You girls do that, we need to go to the store for tomorrow night. Do you need anything?" your mom asked, and you shook your head, eager for them to leave so you could be alone with your sister.

"Tell me everything," Cassie said the moment the door clicked shut.

If it were anyone else, you wouldn't have been in the mood to talk about the mess that was currently your life, but you've always been able to talk about anything with your sister. You trusted each other implicitly and there was no judgement, no matter if you had cheated on a test or gotten drunk during prom, you told each other everything.

So you did. You told her how for months, you felt like something was off with Will. How he would stay out late and say it was for work, but none of his work friends ever posted about going anywhere those nights on social media. He grew more distant and you tried to ignore your paranoia, but when he collapsed into bed one night, too out of it to wash up, and you saw the lipstick on his neck the next morning, you lost it. He hardly even tried to explain himself, barely even attempted to lie, and you began to think maybe he wanted to get caught. Maybe he wanted you to do the dirty work and end things so he didn't have to. Fucking coward.

"What a piece of shit. I never liked him," Cassie said when you were finished. "He acted like he was so much better than everyone when he was here, do you remember the comments he made about the wine mom had? It was so fucking rude."

"Yeah, I know," you agreed.

"So why were you even with him?"

"We had been together since college, Cas," you said, exasperated. "I knew him before he was like that. He used to be sweet and fun. Then he got that finance job and met all those assholes and he became just like them."

"Well, I'm just glad you didn't end up married before finding out what he's really like," she said, shifting her weight on the couch with her hand cupping her small stomach. "That would have been a huge mess."

"It's still a huge mess, I have no where to live now, and I can only couch surf for so long," you said, burying your face in your hands.

"You'll figure it out, Buck. I'll help you look for places online while you're here. Maybe set up some appointments so you can tour them when you get back."

"Thanks," you said, giving her a weak smile. "That would actually be great."

"Now, on to more important things," your sister said, slapping her palms against her knees to stand.

"Baby names?" you asked.

"No! Let's figure out what you'll wear to the party tomorrow," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "I wanna look through all your fancy designer clothes."

You giggled and stood to join her.

"Fine, but I'm still dropping baby names while you look," you replied.

After spending a majority of the next day helping your parents decorate and prepare food for the party, you finally were able to excuse yourself to shower and get ready. Cassie had picked out a Ralph Lauren lace cocktail dress that Will had bought for your birthday last year. You slipped it on, running your hands over the fabric as you adjusted the dress in the mirror. Just because he bought it didn't mean you couldn't wear it again. You snatched the glass of wine from your dresser and took a sip, trying to push the thought of him from your head as you made your way downstairs.

Cassie and Josh were already in the kitchen, munching on appetizers and chatting with your parents. Cassie let out a low whistle when you entered the room. You waved her off and gave Josh a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Good to see you," you told him with a smile. "All ready for the baby?"

"Getting there," Josh replied, wrapping an arm around Cassie's waist. You tried to ignore the ugly, jealous pit in your stomach as he told you how the nursery was coming along. You wasted so many years of your life on Will. Your sister was already married and starting a family, and here you were, basically homeless and starting over. Pathetic.

Family friends slowly began to trickle into the house, luckily being whisked away by your parents to give them a tour after you meekly greeted them and hid back in the kitchen. As more and more people arrived, you began to wonder how your parents kept so many close friends when you barely had a handful back in New York.

A few kids raced by you in the kitchen as you made your way to the bar to refill your wine. Even though it was loud, you could still hear your dad's booming voice as he regaled a friend with a fishing story. You wandered around a bit, trying to find Cassie and Josh so you didn't look out of place, but stopped dead in your tracks when you saw them chatting with Mr. Tanner and his son, Troy, backing away before they could see you. Troy used to have the biggest crush on you when you were kids. If he found out you were single, you wouldn't be able to shake him all night.

You eventually found yourself alone, back in front of the snacks. You picked at the chips on your plate, not really interested in eating but hoping to avoid any awkward conversations, so you kept your eyes down, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Apparently, it wasn't good enough because you felt someone sidle up next to you.

"Those any good?" a deep, unfamiliar drawl spoke from your side. You looked up to find the softest pair of brown eyes you've ever seen on a man. Blinking, you took a moment as your gaze raked over his patchy beard and the dark, tousled curls on his head. They looked so soft, you had to resist the urge to reach out and touch them. What was wrong with you?

"Huh?" you managed to squeak out after you realized you had waited too long to reply. Idiot.

"The, uh, chips," he said, pointing at your plate before rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh!" you said, looking at your plate, completely forgetting you even had it. "Yeah, they're alright."

He nodded and glanced around the room, unsure of what to say next. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"How do you know Paul and Martha?"

Distracted, you watched as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, stretching the fabric of his red flannel over his shoulders, pulling the material taught. You had to remind yourself to pay attention and stop gawking at this man like he was a piece of meat. Jesus, maybe you should stop drinking.

"They're my parents," you said after a moment, your eyes flicking across the room, finding them with a group of their friends with your dad's arm wrapped around your mom's shoulder as she giggled and gazed up at him adoringly.

"Oh, you're Cassie," the man said, his eyes dropping from your face to your stomach, and you swore you saw a glimmer of disappointment.

"No!" you said quickly, your hand subconsciously resting on your midsection. "That's my sister, I'm their other daughter." You told him your name and briefly explained you lived in New York and were just visiting for the holidays.

"They must be real happy, havin' you home for so long," he replied, and you shrugged.

"Yeah, it's been a while since I've come home for a visit. I was feeling pretty bad about that," you said, choosing to leave out the biggest reason you were there. This stranger didn't need to be burdened with your love life drama. "Besides, they were so excited to show off the new house," you continued, waving your arm around the room.

"Took us long enough, but it finally came together," he replied with a smile.

"Oh! You must be Joel," you said, realization finally dawning on you.

"Yeah, sorry," he said, shaking his head and stretching out his arm. "That was rude of me, don't know what I was thinkin'." His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you shook his hand.

"My parents always have such wonderful things to say about you. The house is beautiful, I was blown away when I first saw it," you told him. "I especially love the little details on the cabinets."

"Thanks," he said with a soft smile, averting his gaze to look at the cabinet behind you. "I actually did that myself. It's kind of a hobby of mine. Closest to art I'll ever get, I guess."

"I don't think it's just 'close' to art, I think it is art. It's stunning," you told him, running your fingertips over the intricate floral design. "You're very talented."

"Well, thank you," he said sheepishly, rubbing his beard to hide his smile. You could see the blush creeping up his neck and you bit your lip with a grin, turning your head to try to give him a moment. Were you making him nervous? He was painfully good looking, could this guy actually be into you? Were you even interested? The break up was still so fresh and it had been so long since you've dated anyone besides Will, you hadn't even considered it yet.

"So, how long have you worked in construction?" you asked after a minute, discarding your plate on the counter to give him your full attention.

"Oh, my whole life. Me and my brother started the business when we were in our twenties. Only thing we were any good at, and luckily it pays the bills," he told you with a shrug, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "What do you-"

Joel's question was cut off by a young girl with curly brown hair in a red velvet dress bouncing up to him.

"Dad! Can Uncle Tommy take me outside so we can look at the pool?" she asked. Dad? You looked down when he pulled his hands out of his pockets, palming one of the girl's shoulders to quiet her down, and noticed the gold wedding band. Of fucking course.

"The pool? Sarah, it's freezin' out," Joel said, and she grinned.

"I'm not going in, Dad, I just wanna see," she said, rolling her eyes. She glanced over, noticing you for the first time, and smiled. "I really like your dress," she said.

"Thank you," you said, running your hand down the fabric. "I like yours, too."

"Uh, yeah, that's fine. Just make sure Uncle Tommy sticks with you, alright?" Joel relented, and she clapped her hands gleefully before running off again.

"She's cute, how old is she?" you asked him, looking around the room to see if Sarah had run back to a woman who could be Joel's wife.

"She's sixteen," he said, eyeing you carefully. He hadn't thought this far ahead and hoped he wasn't scaring you off.

You turned to him, startled, having guessed she was younger.

"You must have had her young," you said, the words slipping out before you could catch them. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that like it sounded-"

"No, it's alright," he said with a chuckle. "I did. I'm forty."

You nodded and took a sip from your glass, letting your eyes drift away, rethinking your conversation. Maybe you misread him and he was just being friendly. There was no way he would be flirting with you at a party with his kid right there. But then he cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

"Listen, I hope I'm not bein' too forward, but are you here with anyone?"

You raised your eyebrows at him over your glass. There was no misreading that. Blinking rapidly, you tried to formulate a reply that wouldn't cause a scene. Was he seriously hitting on you with a ring on his finger? You put your glass down on the counter and opened your mouth to reply when your sister's voice interrupted you.

"Bucket! Come here, you remember Troy, right?"

You cringed, at both the nickname and the person in question, before slowly turning your body towards her and forcing a fake smile.

"Of course. How are you?" you said with a hug.

"Doing great, just got a new job with a law firm downtown," Troy said, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans and shifting his weight nervously. He began to ramble about his new job as your sister introduced herself to Joel behind you. You resisted the urge to strangle her, reminding yourself she was carrying your baby niece or nephew and that you'll have to wait until after she gave birth to kill her. She knew you couldn't stand Troy, but she probably couldn't get rid of him, either.

You stood there, draining your wine glass while he prattled on for the next twenty minutes. By the time Troy's dad walked over and ushered him away, Joel was nowhere to be found.

Probably for the best, anyway. You were getting really sick and tired of only attracting unfaithful men.

You hadn't considered how annoying it would be to have your parents hovering around you all the time, worried that you were slipping into a depression and trying to get you to join them on activities outside the house. After you felt forced to go sledding with them the day before, you decided to make yourself scarce today, which is why you found yourself at the mall in downtown Austin browsing for a Christmas gift for your future niece or nephew.

As you were looking through a storefront window, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Taking it out, you saw a text from a friend back home.

Sydney: You'll never guess who i just bumped into

You were typing out your response, chin tucked into your chest, when you felt someone knock into you. Startled, you looked up only to lock eyes with Joel the contractor.

"Oh!" you managed to stammer out. His deep brown eyes lit up and a warm smile spread across his face when he looked up and recognized you.

"Sorry, wasn't payin' attention," he said. "How, uh, how are you?"

"Good," you said, nodding and clutching your phone in your hand. "You?"

"Good. Was actually just thinkin' about you," he admitted, looking down and shifting the bag he was carrying from one hand to the other. "Never got to say goodbye to you the other night."

"Yeah, it was pretty crowded. I didn't realize my parents were so popular," you joked. "Is Sarah with you?"

"No, she's in school," he replied, and you bumped the heel of your hand against your forehead, rolling your eyes. Of course she was, it's the middle of the day.

"Duh," you said quietly, finding it hard to hold his gaze without getting butterflies, so you looked away.

"So, uh, I hope this doesn't sound creepy, but I asked your sister if you were seein' anyone the other night," he began, and you felt your face instantly heat up. Why didn't Cassie warn you?? "-was wonderin' if I could get your number."

"Huh?" you asked, your eyes widening as you tried to control your breathing. You glanced down at his hand again when he looked away and saw he was definitely wearing a ring.

"Thought we could go out sometime? If you're interested?" he asked, his own nerves wreaking havoc as he shifted his weight and chewed on the inside of his cheek, praying his face wasn't as red as it felt.

"Are you serious?" you asked him, narrowing your eyes. The audacity of some men!

"'Course I'm serious," he said with a nervous smile. "Thought we hit it off the other night-"

"Joel, listen. I'm not going to say what I'm really thinking for the sake of my parents and everything you did for them, but I am not interested in dating married men," you said with a scowl. He frowned, giving you a confused look before you turned on your heel and stormed away, joining the crowd of Christmas shoppers bustling by.

He looked down at his hand, making a tight fist before swiveling his head around, trying to locate you in the crowd before he lost you.

"Hey, wait!" he called out, pushing past clusters of people as he jogged to try and keep up with you. He called out your name as he got closer. You stopped suddenly but didn't turn around, causing surprised shoppers to have to redirect at the last minute to avoid running into you.

"Hey, I'm sorry-"

"You should apologize to your wife!" you said loudly, causing a few people to turn their heads in your direction as they walked past. Joel looked around nervously.

"I'm not married," he clarified quietly. You looked down at his hand again and he flexed his fingers.

"Can we get a coffee or somethin'? And I'll explain," he begged, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each second that passed as you considered your answer. "Please."

"Fine," you agreed, and his face relaxed once again.

You sat down at a coffee shop within Barnes and Noble as Joel ordered you both something to drink. As you watched him at the counter, you admired his long legs and broad shoulders underneath his brown coat and wondered what possible excuse he was going to come up with.

Oh my god, what if she died?

You rubbed your eyes, hoping you didn't just insult a widower in the middle of a crowded mall.

Joel joined you at the table and set your coffee down in front of you with a smile.

"Thank you," you said softly, fiddling with the cup and avoiding his eyes as he shrugged his coat off, revealing a navy blue V-neck sweater underneath. Your eyes drifted to the small patch of bare chest that was exposed and your stomach clenched. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, but he was staring down at his ring finger.

"I'm not married anymore, just wanna make that crystal clear," he began, still staring at his ring.

"Okay," you said slowly, waiting for him to continue. He sighed.

"We've been divorced for a few years now," he said, finally looking at you. "It was... hard. Really hard. I, uh," he scratched his beard as he struggled to find the words. "I've had a tough time lettin' go. Thought for a while we might get back together, so I didn't take it off. Then I guess I just got so used to it, I never thought... I'm sorry, I sound like a mess," he said with a sad smile.

"It's alright, I think I understand," you told him, and he looked at you with renewed optimism, encouraged to continue.

"I never took it off because I never thought 'bout askin' anyone out til now," he said. "Didn't realize how that would come across, you just took me by surprise that night and I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

You blushed and looked down at your coffee, trying to hide your smile behind your cup, but he saw it and grinned.

"Are you still in love with her?" you asked him. You didn't want to get wrapped up in something that would end up hurting you in the end.

"No," he said firmly. "I mean, I'll always care for her. She gave me Sarah, how could I not? But I'm not in love with her anymore."

You nodded as you absorbed his words, glancing around the little coffee shop before dragging your eyes back to his. He was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to ask anything else that would make you comfortable with accepting a date from him.

"Well, thank you for being honest with me, but I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship just yet."

Joel tried to hide the disappointment in his face as he nodded in understanding. The first time in five years he asked someone out and he got shot down.

"It's not you," you clarified. "It's bad timing. I just got out of a really long term relationship. Well, I was actually engaged, and I caught him cheating," you explained with a wince, not expecting to bring this up today. "Probably why I was so sensitive about the wedding ring," you said with a half smirk. He nodded quietly and looked down at the ring on his hand, twisting the metal around with the pad of his thumb as you spoke.

"Sounds like we've both been through a tough time," he murmured, and you quietly agreed.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping your coffees and trying to figure out how to end this awkward interaction without making things worse. You were going to lie about having plans so you could leave when he suddenly spoke up.

"No pressure, but, uh, what if we just went on one very casual date?" He looked at you with those soft, brown eyes and you felt your resolve crumbling. "Sounds like we could both use some practice. You're leavin' at the end of the month anyway. Could just be fun, help get us both back out there."

You paused, not expecting that. He had a good point. It's been so long since you've gone on a date with anyone, and it sounded like he was just as rusty. Besides, what else would you be doing with your time over the next three weeks?

"Okay," you agreed softly. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, parting his lips slightly as he straightened up in his chair.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said with a grin. "Why not?"

Early the next morning, you heard your phone buzz on the nightstand next to your bed. With a groan, you cracked an eye open to look at the time, then reached for your phone.

"7:30? Who the hell..." you grumbled, squinting at the bright screen, your eyes widening when you saw Joel's name. You sat up in bed, fully awake now, and slid the notification over to open the text.

Joel Miller: Morning. Are you free tonight?

You grinned, flicking on your light so you could see better to respond, then you paused. Should you make him wait before replying? Would you look too desperate if you answered right away?

You shrugged, deciding to answer him. It was casual, you both knew it wouldn't go anywhere, so who cares how it looked?

You: Good morning, you're up early! And yes, what did you have in mind?

You chewed your thumb nail as you waited for his answer.

Joel Miller: This is nothing, I've been up since 5. For some reason, clients expect me to be at job sites early. How about ice skating?

You giggled and tapped out a reply.

You: I'd love to!

Joel Miller: Great - I'll pick you up at 7

Realizing you forgot to reply to Sydney the day before, you switched messages and shot her a quick answer before sliding back down under the covers to scroll on your phone.

You resisted the urge as long as you could - a whole fifteen minutes - before you typed Joel's name into Facebook. His name popped up with two mutual friends and you rolled your eyes. Of course your parents were friends with him. Clicking on his name, you scrolled down his page, tapping through photos of him and Sarah that looked out of date. He didn't seem like the type to update social media often, and his page reflected that hunch. He didn't have many pictures so it didn't take long until you scrolled all the way to the end, presumably his first photo from when he joined. It was a grainy picture of him with a huge smile and his arm slung around a woman with dark, curly hair, just like Sarah's.

She was pretty, you couldn't deny that, and you vaguely wondered why they broke up. He made it sound like he didn't want a divorce, and you figured he would have mentioned cheating since you brought it up.

You closed the app. If Joel wanted to tell you, he would.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you made your way downstairs on the hunt for coffee. Pouring yourself a cup from the machine, you burrowed into the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket as you waited for your coffee to cool down and flipped through the various streaming services your parents subscribed to.

"Hey Buck, you're up early," your dad said as he descended the stairs and headed to the coffee.

"Hey, Dad," you said, taking a sip from your mug and wincing as you burned your tongue.

"What're you up to today? You wanna come to dinner with your mom and me?"

"Actually, I have a date," you told him, bracing for the reaction.

"Whoa-ho! Been here not even a week and you got yourself a date? Don't tell me... Troy?" he asked with a big grin, sitting down at the other end of the couch.

"Ew, no!" you said, scrunching your nose. "It's, um, Joel," you said quickly, taking another sip from your mug.

"Our contractor?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, we met at the party," you told him. "Then I ran into him at the mall."

"Ran into who at the mall?" you heard Cassie's voice from down the hall.

"When did you get here?" you asked as she rounded the corner and gazed at your coffee enviously.

"Just now. Who did you see at the mall?"

"Joel," you said, glaring at her. "Got something to tell me about that?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "He was asking about you at the party. I made sure to let him know you were single."

"Yeah, he told me, thanks for the heads up, by the way," you said. "We're going out tonight."

"I didn't realize he was single, I just assumed he was married because he's always got Sarah around," your dad said, beginning to zone out to the movie that was on the TV.

"He's single," was all you said, picking your phone back up.

"He's cute," Cassie said, and you blushed. "I'm glad you said yes, mom and dad already love him, so he'll fit right in."

"I don't even live here. It's a casual thing, we're just hanging out," you told her.

"Yeah, okay," she said, giving you a wink. You rolled your eyes and pinched her as you passed by.

"I'm going to shower, then maybe you can help me pick out something to wear," you told her over your shoulder, walking back upstairs.

Joel arrived at your parents' house promptly at 7, just as he promised. He pulled into the driveway, checking his hair in the review mirror quickly before sliding out of his truck and making his way up the porch. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this nervous as he glanced down a the green flannel he wore, praying he didn't miss a button or a stain. He was with his ex for so long that he could barely remember a time when he was nervous around her.

But with you, he felt the butterflies the moment he saw you at the party. You didn't notice him at first, but he saw you enter the living room and freeze in the doorway, your eyes locked on someone across the room before backing out the way you came, as if you were looking to avoid them. He couldn't catch who it was, having hardly known more than five people in the whole house, but he felt compelled to follow you. To see if you were maybe looking for a husband or boyfriend. But when he saw you alone in the kitchen, staring down at your phone, he couldn't stop himself from saying something to you.

Joel never did things like that. He always kept to himself, very quiet and reserved. He was content with his work during the day and hanging out with Sarah at night.

For the most part, he was happy. It was only at night when the loneliness crept up, when he tucked himself into his big, cold bed and tried his best to fall asleep as fast as he could, so he wouldn't lay there wishing someone who cared for him was just in the bathroom washing up.

Tommy had been encouraging him to get back out there, always offering to watch Sarah if he caught Joel looking a little too long at a waitress or a neighbor. Sarah was old enough to be on her own for a few hours, but he still asked Tommy to stop by, anyway. Maybe part of him wanted his brother to know that he was going on a date, if only so he would stop trying to set him up all the time with women he had no interest in.

Joel reached out to ring the doorbell, cringing when he noticed it was one of those camera doorbells. Paul must have installed it after the house was finished. He heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door and held his breath, realizing he hadn't thought about your dad's reaction to your date.

Paul swung the door open, greeting Joel with a deep scowl as he leaned up against the doorframe.

"What's up, Joel?" he asked. Joel cleared his throat.

"Hey, Paul. I'm here to pick up your daughter," Joel replied, bracing himself. Paul just stared at him, breathing deeply as he looked Joel up and down. Joel wasn't a small man, but Paul had at least sixty pounds on him. He tended to have an intimidating look until you got to know him.

"Oh, yeah? For what?" Paul asked, clenching his jaw. Joel froze, wondering if there was a reason you didn't tell your parents about tonight, unsure what to say. Finally, Paul's face broke into a huge smile as he began to crack up, doubling over at the waist.

"I'm sorry, Joel, I had to," he wheezed, standing back up and clapping Joel on the shoulder. "Couldn't help myself. Come on in," he said, still laughing as he led Joel down the hall and towards the kitchen.

"Jesus, Paul, scared the shit outta me," Joel admitted, his heart racing as he rubbed his forehead.

"Beer?" Paul asked, and Joel shook his head.

"No thanks, I'm drivin'," he replied, and Paul raised his eyebrows with a nod.

"Good man, passed the first test," he said with a wink as he twisted open a beer for himself. "Hey, uh, in all seriousness, I just wanna talk with you before she comes down."

"Yeah, 'course," Joel replied, leaning up against the counter.

"I ain't sure what she's told you about the asshole she was with before, but he really hurt her. Now, I know it ain't got nothin' to do with you, what's in the past is in the past," he said. "But just keep that in mind, will you? I can't stand seein' my little girl hurt like that again."

Joel nodded solemnly, understanding completely.

"I ain't like that, I'll be respectful, I promise," Joel replied. "Besides, we both know she's goin' back to New York in a few weeks. We're just gettin' to know each other, is all."

"Yeah, she said the same thing to her sister earlier, but then she spent all damn day on the phone, pickin' out an outfit and gettin' herself ready," Paul said with a sigh. "I'm just sayin', be careful with her."

Joel felt a flutter in his chest and tried to hide his smile when he found out you had been thinking about him all day. He was glad he wasn't the only one.

"I hope you weren't waiting long," you told Joel as he backed out of your driveway.

"Not at all," he said with a smirk. "You're worth the wait. You look beautiful." He glanced down again at the light pink sweater with a small designer logo he was unfamiliar with in the corner.

You blushed and bit your lip, quietly thanking him and trying to hide your reaction behind your scarf, but he saw it. He always does.

Now that he knew you were looking forward to this date just as much as he was, he felt a little more confident.

"Did you have a good day?" he asked, giving you a sideways glance as he merged his truck into traffic.

"Yeah, did you?"

"It was alright," he said, slowing the truck down at a stop light. He turned to face you now. "Couldn't wait to see you, though."

You turned a darker shade of pink and he smiled, pleased to see that he could elicit that reaction from you, the same way you do to him.

"So, ice skating?" you said, trying to take the heat off of you. You looked at his hands on the steering wheel, noticing he made sure to take his ring off.

"Yeah," he said, pressing his foot on the gas as the light changed. "Thought you could teach me somethin'."

"Teach you? How do you know if I can even skate?" you asked teasingly.

"Just a hunch. Was I right?" he replied, his mouth turning up into a half smirk. You giggled and he felt his stomach tighten. He needed to hear that again.

"Yeah, you were right," you relented. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and slapped the steering wheel in victory, making you giggle again, and his chest filled with warmth at the sound.

"Where's Sarah tonight?" you asked him as he pulled into a parking spot at the skating rink.

"My brother's watchin' her," he replied, disappointed that you got out of the truck so quickly. He had planned on opening the door for you.

"Does she like to ice skate?" you questioned as he led you inside to the counter to rent your skates.

"Oh, of course she does. But I usually sit it out and just watch her have fun," he said, picking up your rentals and heading over to a bench.

"You should have brought her, I wouldn't have minded."

"We don't have to talk 'bout her, you know," he said quicky, and your fingers froze over your laces.

"Why wouldn't we talk about her? She's your daughter," you asked slowly, straightening back up to look at him.

"No, I know. What I mean is, I know it ain't every woman's fantasy to go out with a single dad and all the baggage that comes with that. So, if you don't wanna talk about her, I get it," he said, casting his eyes down as he focused on tying his laces. You reached out a hand and gently placed it on top of his, immediately making him freeze at your touch.

"She's part of your life, so I want to hear about her. You shouldn't think like that, Joel. It's really not a dealbreaker for most women," you assured him, gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, his eyes glued to your hand as he listened. "And if it is, fuck 'em."

His eyes snapped up to yours now, then a slow smile spread across his face.

"Okay," he said softly, and you smiled, pulling your hand back, leaving him wanting more.

"Besides," you said, standing up on your skates as you made your way to the rink. "You have no idea what kind of fantasies I have."

You turned to give him a wink as you effortlessly stepped out onto the ice, holding out your hands encouragingly for him to follow. It was a miracle he was able to move his legs after that comment, but he managed just because he knew he would feel your warm hands on his again.

Joel was a quick study. He was nervous at first, you could tell that he didn't want to embarrass himself, but he did surprisingly good. Especially considering how crowded the ice rink was and how fast people were skating by. After about half an hour, he was able to skate - albeit, slowly - around the rink next to you without any assistance. Part of you wondered if he pretended to need more help than he really did just so it would make you feel good.

"So, anyway, that's basically what I do for work. It's pretty boring," you said with a sigh.

"Not boring. Marketing in New York City sounds like a dream," he replied.

"Yeah, except I work on all the behind the scenes stuff. It's not really as fun as it sounds," you admitted, not missing work in the slightest since you've been back in Texas.

"Well, d'you work with some fun people, at least?"

You paused, considering his question for a moment, before shaking your head with a dry laugh.

"Not really," you said, but he still tried to help you find a reason why you would put up with it.

"You were able to take off almost a whole month, that's pretty great. Not many places'll let you do that, can't be that bad," he offered, and you scoffed.

"It's the time I saved up for the wedding I was supposed to have," you told him sadly, and he groaned.

"I'm knockin' it outta the park tonight, ain't I?" he said, rubbing his face before almost losing his balance. You giggled and he couldn't stop the huge grin that plastered itself across his face.

"It's fine, you didn't know," you said, waving him off. And for the first time, you really didn't mind talking about it. Something about him made it easier.

"What'dya say we get some hot chocolate?" Joel asked, jutting his chin towards the vendor where you first came in.

"Yeah, that sounds great," you replied. Joel turned towards the exit without looking when a teenage boy, who was speed skating around the rink trying to impress a girl, smacked right into him, sending him flying backwards on the ice.

"Joel!" you exclaimed, rushing to his side. He groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

"Hey, why don't you watch it!" you yelled angrily at the teenager, who had managed to only stumble a bit upon impact.

"Sorry, man," the kid mumbled before taking off.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," you said, about to stand up to go after him, but Joel reached up to grip your arms, holding you in place.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. Sweetheart. Your heart skipped a beat at the term.

"Are you sure?" you asked, your brow furrowed with concern.

"Yeah, just gimme a hand," he said, and you stood to give his arm a firm yank, allowing him to stand.

"Let's get you off the ice," you told him, ushering him carefully to the exit and finding a bench.

"Does your head hurt?" you asked, sitting down next to him. Your fingers reached up to graze the back of his head.

"No," he said breathlessly, staring at you as you continued to study him for any injury. God, you were so beautiful, he couldn't force himself to look away.

"That's good. How about your vision?" you pressed, still so focused on the fall and not seeing the way he was looking at you. But when you finally locked your eyes on his, your breath caught in your throat.

All the laughter and playful yelling surrounding you faded. You couldn't look away from his heated gaze, his deep brown eyes boring into yours so intensely, you almost forgot to blink. He brought his hand up to gently cradle the side of your face, his calloused palm meeting your soft skin. Your lips parted to accommodate your sudden need for more oxygen, and his gaze fell to your mouth.

"Joel," you whispered, and the way his name sounded coming from you was so damn sweet, it almost did him in.

"Yeah?" he whispered back, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice.

He leaned forward, eyes sliding shut and slotting his lips against yours, deeply breathing in your scent so he could remember it tomorrow. He was determined to commit every second to memory, knowing that by morning he would be aching for you, aching for this. Against his better judgement, he pressed himself into your lips harder, unsure if he will ever get to feel like this again when you inevitably came to your senses. The idea of this feeling being taken away from him spurred him on, desperate and eager for every second you were willing to give him.

Your hand came up to the back of his neck, holding him against you as his lips massaged yours tenderly. You inched closer to him on the bench so you could tuck yourself into his broad chest. He was so warm and soft and strong that it was making you dizzy. Your fingertips stroked the curls at the base of his neck as you tentatively opened your mouth just enough to suck his lower lip between yours. The quiet noise he made when you did that made your insides clench with need, and against all odds, you felt yourself falling, completely losing yourself in him and the moment.

A startling voice over the loudspeaker announcing that the rink was closing in fifteen minutes finally snapped you out of it. You both pulled back but kept your foreheads pressed together as the world around you slowly melted back into focus. His hand still cupped your face and he lifted his thumb to gently trace your swollen lips.

"I should take you home," he murmured. At first, your stomach flipped, thinking he meant his home, but you realized he wasn't that type and he meant your parents' house.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and you sat back reluctantly, breaking away. His hand dropped from your face to the hand in your lap, his thick fingers wrapping around yours for a moment as he collected himself with a deep breath.

Finally, he forced himself to stand, still clutching your hand and helping you up. You glanced down at the floor and smirked.

"We should probably take our skates off," you said, and he chuckled, breaking the tension and sitting back down, his hand reluctantly letting go of yours to undo his laces.

After you turned in your rentals, his hand quickly found yours again, unwilling or unable to let you go as he led you back to his truck, this time making sure to open the car door for you. Thanking him quietly, you jumped up into the cab and watched him round the front of the car, running a hand through his hair and sucking in deep breath.

You grinned and bit your lip as he started the truck, swinging his arm around to grip your headrest and twisting his body to back out of the spot. It took everything in you not to scoot across the seat and tuck yourself into his side.

He let his arm drop loosely on the seat in between you as he drove down the street, one hand on the steering wheel. Your fingers inched forward, sliding your palm underneath his hand, lacing your fingers together. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile and you drove in a comfortable silence, your hands intertwined the whole time, until he pulled into your driveway and cut the engine.

You sighed as you stared at the darkened house, already missing him and he wasn't even gone yet. He peered over at you, trying to think of a way to prolong the date, but aside from the obvious, which he wasn't going to do just yet, he was coming up empty.

"Lemme walk you up," he said finally, and you nodded, reaching for the handle of the door but he stopped you. You furrowed your brow, confused, until you watched him rush over to open the door, and you grinned, taking his hand so you could slide out of the seat.

You stared at the ground as he led you up the path to the porch, your heart pounding in your ears. You weren't sure what you had been expecting tonight, but it definitely wasn't this feeling. This was so much more.

"Well, thank you for tonight," you said as you reached the door, turning around to look up at him through your lashes. "I had a really good time."

"Yeah, me too," he said, his soft, brown eyes trailing over your face, locking away every little detail. Unable to resist, he stepped forward, his rough hand skimming around to the back of your neck. He tilted your face up, ducking down slightly to meet you halfway and brushed his lips gently over yours.

Your hands flew up to grip the collar of his flannel, keeping him pressed against you as you leaned against the front door. God, for someone who claimed to be rusty, he was a really good kisser. He was gentle and slow and it took your breath away both times. You knew you were getting in over your head, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All you could think about was him and how badly you wanted more.

Nervously, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue against his plush lips. He responded by parting his lips and allowing your tongue to dance with his own, his mouth applying more pressure than before as the heat flared between you.

Before you could stop it, a soft moan rumbled from your throat, causing him to pull back, panting slightly as his gaze flickered between your eyes. You gazed up at him, eyes dark and desperate, your fingers still gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly.

You weren't sure what he was searching for, but after a moment he seemed to find it because his mouth came crashing down on yours once again, this time with more yearning and desire. His tongue probed inside your mouth, licking past your teeth and in the back of your mind you realized he tasted faintly of mint and you wondered when on earth he popped a mint into his mouth but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered except the two of you in that moment, each seeking something within the other that you never expected to find.

His chest ached knowing he would have to stop kissing you soon, or else he would never leave. He always considered himself a strong man, after everything he had been through, how could he not? But something about you made him realize he wasn't nearly as strong as he thought. Your lips were so soft compared to his, so sweet and perfect that it made him want to cry because in that moment, he knew he could never let you go.

[adrienneleclerc]

so i’ve been a virgin my whole life right, and my family (like true latino fashion) they always bring it up and makes jokes and my nickname about it. if i EVER say anything about losing my virginity, dios mío, no me avergüenzo. anyways my sisters always say that when im 25 they will give me a birthday that say new record 25 years of virginity. but i can’t help think that charles is celebrating your 25 with your family and see this and turns red, because he knows the truth 👀. and your sisters realize what is happening so the next week they give you a cake that say congrats on no longer being the virgin

Oh my god, I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! It’s new, it’s unique, me encanta tu imaginación, de verdad. I am also a virgin, 21 years and counting, jajaja, haven’t been in a relationship either so this is going to be fun to write. I hope I did your idea justice!

The 25 Year-Old “Virgin”

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Where Y/N spends her birthday with her family who still think she’s a virgin with Charles, the boyfriend who made her not a virgin anymore.

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: sorry it took so long, I try to make the Spanish as neutral as possible but I am Mexican and Peruvian so there will always be nods to my cultures, I am sorry.

Y/N was sleeping and turned over to hug to Charles but his side of the bed was empty and there was only a bouquet of white and pink roses. This made Y/N sit up in bed and check her phone. It was 8am, she put on her house slippers, took the bouquet in her hand, and walked into the kitchen for something to eat and she saw balloons, more white and pink roses, and Charles making breakfast to some piano music. Charles turned around and saw his girlfriend.

“Mon ange, you’re awake! Happy birthday, beautiful.” Charles said, leaving his station to give Y/N a quick kiss before finishing his cooking.

“This is amazing, muñeco, when did you wake up to do all of this?” Y/N asked, sitting at the kitchen counter.

“6am, i tried really hard not to wake you.” Charles said, serving Y/N’s breakfast on a plate and placing it right in front of her. “Your parents called, they want to host your birthday party at their house.” Charles said and Y/N looked shocked. Y/N and her family moved from New York to Monaco when she was 18, Y/N started dating Charles last year, a little after she turned 24, so Charles doesn’t know how her parents and sisters get.

“Are you sure we can’t just have a small party here?” Y/N asked.

“Mon coeur, I have never met your parents in person, I’ve only talked to them on the phone, I would love to meet them, we’ve been dating for almost a year.” Charles said.

“I know but you don’t know what they’re like.” Y/N said, eating her breakfast. “I’m glad that dating me made you a better cook, this is so good.”

“Ha ha, i asked my mom for cooking lessons since we started dating. Your parents want us at their house at 3.” Charles said.

“Fine, you pick out my outfit while I shower and do my hair.” Y/N said,

“You’re not gonna do your makeup?” Charles asked.

“It would be better if I didn’t,” Y/N said, knowing one of her sisters would probably push her head into the cake, it happened last year.

Y/N got out of the shower with her bathrobe on and she saw the what Charles left on the bed.

“You love seeing me in this dress, don’t you?” Y/N asked, picking up the dress.

“It makes you look so innocent like an Angel, even though we both know that’s not true.” Charles said, kissing Y/N.

“You and your innocence/corruption kink, it will ruin you, you know.” Y/N said, putting on a pair of panties and one of Charles’s shirts so she could do her hair and skincare routine.

“I think I’m the one that’s ruining you, Mon coeur,” Charles said.

“Yeah that, that right there is something you can’t say in front of my family. Are you wearing a suit?” Y/N asked.

“Of course I am, because we are going out of something goes wrong.” Charles said.

Y/N and Charles are outside her parents house, they knocked on the door and her mom opened.

“Ay, mi Lupita, how are you? Come in, come in, your sisters are picking up your cake.” Y/N’s mom, Hilda, said.

“Lupita?” Charles asked.

“I’ll explain later.” Y/N said. Charles and Y/N walked into the house to see her dad, José, setting up the table.

“Mija, there you are! Happy birthday, mi niña chiquita, never had to worry about boys in the house with this one growing up. So charles how are you?” Jose asked.

“I’ve been good, it’s nice to see you in person.” Charles said.

“Same here, son. Come to the kitchen, you need to eat.” Jose said and Charles turned to Y/N.

“Andrea is going to kill me.” Charles said before entering the kitchen where Hilda made him a plate of tacos dorados de papa, pollo a la brasa, jalea de mariscos (mixed fried seafood so like calamari, clams, fish, shrimp, crab), white rice, French fries. Charles left the kitchen and sat at the dining table next to Y/N. “I’m gonna have to do so much cardio to burn this off. Maybe you’ll help me with that.” Charles whispered the last part in Y/N’s ear.

“I Can’t with you. But I really want jalea so I’m just gonna steal this piece of calamari.” Y/N said, taking a fried calamari ring from Charles’s plate. “Delicious! I’m gonna make my plate.” Y/N said, getting up and thats when her sisters, Maria Luisa and Angelica entered the house with the cake.

“Hola todos! Tenemos el pastel.” María Luisa said, putting her keys on the hook and walking to the kitchen. “Lupe! So good to see you, hermanita. You look good, love the dress, very you.”

“Charles! Nice to finally meet you, I hope being with Y/N isn’t too boring, you know.” Angelica said and Y/N rolled her eyes and turned to charles.

“Don’t listen to them, muñeco.” Y/N said before entering the kitchen to make her own plate of food, sitting down next to Charles.

The little “party” was going well, Charles was getting along with José, there were no jokes at Y/N’s expense, it was all great until.

“Okay, time to cut the cake.” Hilda said, bringing out the cake to place it in front of Y/N with the candles lit on the dinner table.

The cake read “New Record: 25 Years of Virginity”. Y/N looked up at Charles and covered her face with her hands while Charles’s face turned Ferrari red and he scratched the back of his neck. María Luisa and Angelica stared at Y/N and then at Charles. The two girls laughed.

“No manches! Ay mami, pásame algo para quitar el frosting, ya no creo que esto aplica a ella.” Angélica told Hilda. No fucking way. Mom, pass me something to scrape the frosting off, I don’t think this applies to her anymore

“Angelica!” Y/N yelled. “Que oso, neta, mejor ustedes se quedan con el pastel, Charles y yo tenemos planes. Muñeco, Let’s go.” Y/N said, getting up how embarrassing, seriously, y’all can keep the cake, Charles and I have other plans.

“It was nice meeting all of you.” Charles said, before leaving with Y/N.

“Usan protección!” Marcia Luisa screamed out and Y/N flipped her off, causing her sisters to laugh and their parents hit them upside the head. Charles and Y/N walked to his car and Y/N turned on the radio.

“So…that’s why your mom called you Lupita?” Charles asked.

“Yep, the Virgin Mary, La virgencita de Guadalupe, Lupita. Ugh, I’m so sorry about that, my sisters are…well, they’re my sisters.” Y/N said.

“It’s fine, Mon coeur, at least they won’t tease you anymore.” Charles said.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. Can we still make it to our reservation?” Y/N asked.

“Yes we can, do you want cake for dessert? You can’t celebrate your birthday without cake.” Charles said,

“One slice should be good, let’s go.” Y/N said.

A week later, Y/N and Charles were sleeping, cuddled up together when they heard the doorbell ring.

“Mon coeur, get the door.” Charles moaned out.

“No way, muñeco, this is your apartment.” Y/N said, burying her face in his neck.

“Mon ange, I’m semi hard and I don’t think I should answer the door like this.” Charles said, the doorbell rang again.

“Alright, I’ll go.” Y/N said, kissing Charles’s neck.

“That’s not helping my situation.” Charles said.

“I know.” Y/N said, she got out of bed, put on her chanclas, and answered the door, her two sisters were holding a white box.

“Surprise!” They said. Y/N motioned for them to come in.

“Whats that?” Y/N asked.

“Well we felt bad about last week so we got you a new cake and some pan dulce.” Angelica said as María Luisa placed the box on the kitchen counter.

“Open the box, it’s your favorite flavor.” María Luisa said. Y/N hesitantly opened the box and when she saw the frosting she laughed.

“Se pasan, de verdad.” Y/N said. “But thank you. I’m sure Charles will get a kick out of this.”

“So…you lost your virginity to an F1 driver. I’m so jealous,” María Luisa said,

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky, he was so gentle to me. Now get out.” Y/N said,

“You’re so mean to us.” Angelica said.

“Dude, you guys are late for work.” Y/N said, showing her sisters the time.

“Oh shit we are, see you later.” María Luisa said, pushing Angelica out the door and running down the stairs. Y/N closed the door and that’s when Charles entered the kitchen in boxers where she can see his semi hard on.

“Your sisters came over?” Charles asked.

“Yep, and with a new cake for us.” Y/N said, Charles walked to the counter and saw the cake, she laughed lightly.

“Well i am glad that I got to be the one to ‘pop your cherry’, I hate that expression, by the way.” Charles said. Y/N walked to Charles, having one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest while charles placed his hands on her waist.

“It doesn’t matter. By the way, we never got to have birthday sex and I believe you need some bell with your situation.” Y/N’s said, trailing her hand from his chest to the elastic of his boxers.

“I guess we should fix that with some morning sex, don’t you think?” Charles asked in a flirtatious manner,

“Oh absolutely.” Y/N replied and Charles carried her to the bedroom.

The End

Hope y’all liked it! It was very fun to write, not gonna lie. I also started watching Drive To Survive because if I don’t have F1 TV, I’m gonna keep myself entertained with something F1 related

[swe3tte4rs]

Batifamily headcanons feeling jealous about their siblings spending more time with Batmom? Or something like that, however you like to write it 🙊

" Jealousy jealousy " - Batmom!Reader x Batkids

Author's note: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR (late)!!! Love this 🫶. And I feel like this request is VERY my AU!!! Dah, who wouldn't compete for the love of their sweet and loving mother!? (The hatred between them began when Bruce had to set schedules for each one so they wouldn't fight for Batmom's attention... joke)

Also I am very sad, because when I was responding to this kind of request and I saved it as a draft, it was deleted 😭!!! CRYING 💔💔!!! On top of that, I loved the request, it was beautiful 😭! It was about Batmom as Bruce's couple and Bruce introduces Batmom to the batkids... And if it was you who sent it 🫵, let me tell you that I loved it and it will take me a while to upload it 💓!! Lov you all

And (I almost forgot to mention this), This AU of the batfamily is a mix of comics, series, headcanons (I LOVE headcanons of batfamily 💗), video games, movies and webtoon! + My main language is not English, so if you find any spelling mistakes, tell me in a comment!

Request opens 💗💗!!! BUT, before you request anything check my rules.

Dick Grayson / Nightwing

Honestly, I don't see him being jealous of his brothers at all! But since I haven't read all of his comics and in this AU he is a mix, I don't have an opinion. 👀

Let us begin.

I feel like Dick is a real mama's boy, he love his mom and he will prove it.

Dick is very used to having all of Batmom's attention to himself.

But he hides his jealousy very well, or so he thinks…

Jealousy began when Dick started having siblings. DON'T DENY ME GIRL 🤝🤝!!!

When he gets jealous that you spend more time with, I don't know, he'll go to sleep with you and Bruce, but leaving Bruce aside and enjoying your caresses in his hair while he listens to his siblings complain from outside the bedroom. (Bruce hate this, but I feel that at the same time he love it just a little bit. Very little.)

Possibly he will also rub things you did with him that you didn't do with your other children in his siblings' faces.

I think he is the only one (along with Jason) who has a complete album with photos of him as a child. So he'll show it off to others by saying that you loved him so much that you made an entire photo album of him.

He would do the same with Jason, telling him that his album has more photos and with more photos of you and Dick.

I feel like he would start a whole fight against one of his brothers just to carry all the shopping bags by himself so you don't do it. (This idea is similar to "Jason Todd is a total mama's boy" because I was inspired by it, so credit to its respective author 💓)

"Mommy, did you just call me Damian? Oh my god... my heart..." #atotaldramaqueenbaby💋💋👊👊

Jason Todd / Red Hood

Another drama queen...

A mama's boy from head to toe. (My poor baby just needed a fucking mother figure 😭💔)

He is first in everything. Do you need help opening a jar? He already opened it for you and said I love you and then left and returned to a mission.

But that's not what we're talking about right now... Nonono, we're talking about jealousy, guys...

I bet he's the most sensitive of all.

He makes sure you don't show favoritism to anyone, unless it's him, if so he lets it go.

Did you spend an extra minute with one of your other children because you didn't see the time? He is already burning in a pit of jealousy.

I feel like he would start fighting with his sibling and then he would apply the law of silence to you. But it doesn't last long because he can't resist your cute nicknames and your "you're my favorite" (you say that to each of your babies)

"Why do you call him "son"? He isn't even your son!" And he gives you a whole long speech when you were just trying to be nice to Roy.

He even gets jealous of Bruce.

He doesn't care if it's one of his sisters or a good friend of his, you can't call them cute nicknames! And even less if they are the ones you use with him!

He has good hearing, he makes sure that you call him by his nicknames and not by one of his siblings' nicknames.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MA?! Why are you washing Tim's hair with the shampoo you use with me!?!?" You broke him...

Tim Drake / Red Robin

( I haven't read almost anything by Tim, so forgive me if something doesn't add up, but I promise you that I already have more or less what his personality is like.)

Tim does not admit his jealousy, he is calmer compared to his brothers.

He might start scheduling his patrols to coincide with Batmom’s free time, ensuring that he gets to spend some time with her.

I feel like he would feel more insecurity than jealousy

But I also think he would try to take Batmom's attention away from his sibling by calling Batmom to help him do something he can easily do alone.

He wouldn't care if you treated his friends like your children. I think he would be happy.

Umh Well… I think there's not much to jealousy about this one...

Damian Wayne / Robin

Yes, I headcanon that Damian is one of the most jealous once he realizes that Batmom can give him the love that Talia didn't give him.

He is the same as Jason, he has the same percentage of jealousy.

The only thing is that he would start making arguments about why Batmom would have to spend the whole week with him and not with her brothers.

Oh, and he doesn't care what Bruce does with Batmom. Although he is disgusted by the slightest affection they have.

At galas, I feel like he would be glued to you, hugging your waist and making sure there is no threat.

If you're not patrolling, he'd be with you watching some movie. (I DON'T KNOW WHY I IMAGINED HIM WATCHING MEAN GIRLS)

"I say mom Is going to go with me first because I'm the best-" And then he was interrupted by his siblings.

There is a relationship of hate and equality between him and Jason…

"Don't you see that my mother has an engagement ring and I'm next to her, son of a- *you interrupt him*" I feel like he would say this to anyone who flirts with you.

He is not understanding why his siblings get to spend more time with her.

Mama's boy

I would continue writing, but I have no more inspiration and ideas, sorry...

Cassandra Cain / Orphan

WHY DID SHE PUT THAT NAME BRO???

Cassandra, being the quiet and observant one, might internalize her feelings of jealousy.

Cass is the last one to get jealous, honestly.

She understands that Batmom loves them all equally and there is no favoritism.

Although sometimes she doubts…

She would feel excluded every time she sees you spend more time with one of her siblings.

But putting that behind, she would know that you love them all equally and would let it go by speaking with you how she feels.

0,1% jealous.

Stephanie Brown / Spoiler

Depends…

I think she would feel jealous if Batmom shows favoritism towards others.

In itself, I don't think Steph is VERY jealous. Just... a little bit.

Duke Thomas / The Signal

I need to read more about this man 😭

He's the newest one in the batfam, but he was still able to connect with Batmom very well.

Duke is not one to be jealous, he just doesn't care what batmom does.

Although he is a similar case to Cass.

He would feel a little "insecure" seeing the ties Batmom has with his siblings.

But it always ends well with Batmom watching a movie with him.

[You can put more headcanons in a comment if you like!! And suggestions are always welcome <3]

[girlgenius1111]

unhappy reunions

sol runs into her parents after the copa de la reina final no warnings.

--------

“Solstråle?” 

You froze. You knew that voice, knew it well. Your mother normally didn’t call you by the nickname Ingrid had given you, and that almost surprised you more than her surprise appearance.The noisy cafe still existed around you, but when you turned around, that was all forgotten. 

“Mamma?” You whispered, instinctually taking a step backwards from the woman in front of you. 

It made sense; you should have known better than to expect your parents to miss one of perfect, perfect Ingrid’s important games. 

“Hei, kjære.” Your dad said gently. He had his hand on your mom’s elbow, holding her back from taking a step closer. It wasn’t as jarring to see him, but your body had been plunged into panic the moment you’d seen your mothers’ face. 

“I-.... I can’t,” you mumbled, backing up until your back hit the door. The last thing you saw before you turned to leave was a heartbroken expression on your mom’s face. As if she was upset you wouldn’t talk to her. You were confused, overwhelmed, and so, so upset. 

You booked it back to the hotel. As fast as you could, walking as quickly as would be socially acceptable. You’d forgotten the coffee you’d ordered, which you only realized as you got in the elevator at the hotel. You were kind of torn on whether to head to your room, or to Ingrid and Mapi’s. They’d probably still be asleep; the celebrations had gone late the night before, and you wanted them to rest, to really soak in the victory. 

But honestly, you weren’t sure you’d be able to calm yourself down, and you knew your sister could. You made a decision that you wouldn’t have a few months ago, maybe even a few weeks ago, stopping in front of your sister’s door rather than your own. You chose company over self pity, and comfort over punishing yourself. And it felt wrong. 

Mapi answered the door. “Good morning Sol!” She said cheerily, stepping aside to let you in the room. The bathroom door was closed and you could hear the shower running, which explained where your sister was. 

“Hi.” You said, your voice much shakier and quieter than normal. 

“You okay?” Mapi asked, shutting the door and giving you a concerned look. 

“Yeah.” The lie was instinctual. “No, actually. No. I… I went to get coffee.” 

Mapi looked at your empty hands, raising an eyebrow in question. 

“I saw my mom. She- both of them. My mom and my dad, they were in the coffee shop I went to. And I saw them.” You looked away from Mapi as you spoke, staring down at your hands. They were trembling. 

“Sol,” Mapi sighed and reached out for your hand, though you stepped backwards, shaking your head at her. 

“Please don’t touch me.” You whispered, pressing the heels of your palms tightly against your eyes. You felt so unsettled, so uncomfortable. Suddenly, Zaragoza didn’t feel safe, you didn’t feel safe. You wanted to go home, or maybe you just wanted to hide yourself somewhere quiet and far, far away from anyone else. 

Mapi stood for a minute, not sure what to do. You’d never refused a hug from her before and though she realized that you coming to their room as opposed to hiding away in your own room was a step forward, everything about your body language was screaming that you were miles away, back in Norway. Norway, where you didn’t feel loved or noticed. Where you shied away from hugs because you weren’t used to getting them. Mapi heard the shower turn off and wasn’t sure whether or not to be glad. Ingrid might be overwhelming for you, as it seemed like you were already overwhelmed, but Ingrid could sometimes get through to you in a way that only she could. 

“Okay, Sol. Everything is fine, cariño.” She tried to soothe. 

“No! No, everything isn’t fine. They aren’t supposed to be here, I don’t want to see her. Are they here to take me back? I don’t want to go back. I want to go home, to Barcelona. I want to go home Mapi, please.”

“You aren’t going back and you don't have to see anyone, nena.” Mapi promised, stepping closer with her hands raised slightly in the air. “Tell me what to do, tell me how I can help.” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” All you could do was shake your head back and forth, trying to keep yourself in the present. 

“Okay, Sol, just breathe. Just breathe for me.” Mapi soothed, taking a slight step forwards. It didn’t seem like you were hearing her. It didn’t even seem like you were in the room with her. 

“Mom, please please don’t send me away. I want to stay here with you. Please mom, please.” You sobbed. Your head hurt from crying, from going back and forth in circles with your mother. 

“You are going, and that is final.” Your mother said firmly. She didn’t really seem to see your tears, or how upset you were.  

You looked towards your dad, who couldn’t meet your eyes. “Dad, please. I don’t want to go. I’ll be better, I promise, just please,” 

Your father opened his mouth, as if to reply, but your mother beat him to it. “Enough. We are not changing our minds.”

You wiped a few tears away. “How can you do this to me?”

“Do this to you?” She repeated incredulously. “I’m always the bad guy with you. No matter how much I do, nothing is ever enough. You are ungrateful. You are only capable of thinking of yourself. This is not the kind of person I raised you to be. You say that you are anxious and depressed. I think you’re lying, and I am sick and tired of your excuses for this poor behavior. It is a miracle your sister is even willing to take you in. I am sure she has no idea what she’s getting herself into. You will go to Spain, and you will learn what it's like to not have someone do everything for you. And until you learn that, do not bother coming back here. I do not want to see your face again until you have cleaned up your act.” 

The room fell silent as your mother took a step back, a flicker of emotion flashing across her face. Your dad still wouldn’t look at you. If he had, he would have seen that the tears had stopped. You stood, looking like you’d been struck. In that moment, you hated yourself as much as your mother seemed to. Even if you didn’t understand why she felt that way. You were pretty sure it was warranted. 

“I am sorry for yelling. I just get so frustrated with you sometimes, and I don’t know what else to do.” She stepped closer, stopping when you took a step back. “We are doing this because we care about you.” 

It was always because they cared about you. Never because they loved you. Your mother had stopped saying love a long time ago, around the time you’d started acting out. You wondered if you’d ever hear it again. From anyone. 

“Sol, I need you to breathe.” Mapi said, bringing you out of your thoughts. You raised your head to look at her, and she almost cried herself at the downright haunted look on your face. The next second, you were practically lunging towards her, a broken sob falling from your lips. 

“I want Ingrid.” You choked out, pressing your face into Mapi’s shoulder. She nodded quickly, arms holding you securely to her, even as you trembled violently. 

“Ingrid,” Mapi called.

“One second.” Ingrid replied, not hearing the urgency in her girlfriend’s tone. 

When Ingrid walked out of the bathroom, clean and dressed in the clothes she was intending on wearing to the airport, she stopped in her tracks. Mapi was holding you close against her, shushing you quietly, and you were sobbing. 

“María? Solstråle? What-?” 

Mapi just shook her head, waving Ingrid to come closer. Your sister crossed the room quickly, filled with confusion and worry as she saw the state you were in. When you didn’t seem like you were going to explain anytime soon, Ingrid looked again to Mapi. 

“She saw your parents. They’re here, in Zaragoza, she saw them in a coffee shop.” 

Ingrid felt fury rise in her, but she pushed it aside, softly stroking over your hair with her hand. “Sol, I’m so sorry.” 

Once you felt your sister’s hand on your head, you turned around, falling into Ingrid. You squeezed her tighter than you ever had before, the only thought in your head that you did not want to go back. 

“Ingrid, don’t let them take me.” You sobbed. 

“Elskling, I am not letting anyone take you anywhere . You are staying with me, okay? I promise you.”  

Ingrid had seen you upset before. Really upset. Nothing came close to this, though. It felt like just when she thought she understood how much damage your parents had done on you, something else would happen that told her it was far worse than she'd been thinking. 

And at the worst possible moment, the door flew open and Patri and Pina’s loud voices filled the room, before they fell completely silent. They froze in the doorway, realizing that they had walked in on a full breakdown from you. They’d heard from Ingrid and Mapi that you’d been struggling. Until now, it had been hard to fit that information into the image they had of you. Smiley quiet Sol. 

Neither of them knew what had happened to get you to this point, cradled against your sister, sobbing so hard they weren’t even sure you knew they were there. 

“Out.” Mapi said harshly, moving to block your trembling form. She’d never snapped like this to her teammates, and though they had already been on their way out of the room, they moved faster.

“Sorry, Mapi.” Patri said quietly, yanking Pina out of the room quickly and shutting the door behind them. 

“What-?” Pina began. 

“I don’t know. Whoever hurt her enough to be like that… I don’t understand. She’s such a good kid.” 

“If Mapi ever goes to jail for murder, we’ll know who she went after.” 

Patri nodded her agreement. 

Back inside the room, you had stopped crying, save for the occasional sniffle. Ingrid almost preferred the crying to the completely blank look that had washed over your face. 

“Sol,”

“Pina and Patri?”

“They won’t say anything to anyone, and they won’t make fun of you, Sol. Not for this.” Mapi promised. 

“Okay. Good. I need to pack.” You said stiffly, stepping away from the comfort of your sister, and turning to walk out of the room. 

“No, Sol. No. Stop for a second. We cannot pretend that didn't just happen.” Mapi cut in. A flicker of surprise flashed across your face, as Mapi was normally the one to encourage Ingrid to let you take things at your own pace. 

You looked between her and your sister, wondering how you could explain it in a way that made sense to them. “ I can’t think about this any more before we go home. I just need to go home. Please.” 

For once, Mapi looked conflicted while your sister nodded instantly. She understood. You hated unfamiliar places. You were introverted that way, while Mapi was very much the opposite. There was never a feeling of complete safety when you and Ingrid were away from home, and she understood why you didn’t want to deal with this now, here. Not when you were only a few hours from being home. 

“Okay. I get that. I am not leaving you alone right now, though. We still have a few hours until we have to go, so take Mapi with you to finish packing, and then go find me coffee.” 

You nodded weakly, moving only once Mapi had given you a kind smile and began to lead you out of the room. 

Ingrid waited until the door had shut behind you both before she grabbed her phone from her pocket, and clicked on a contact she hadn’t even looked at in a while. 

-------

She was doing the right thing. That’s what Ingrid told herself. It had nothing to do with the desperate wish to see her parents, even if she was so furious with them she couldn’t put it into words. She missed her mom, and she had for a while. Ingrid was doing this for you, though; she was putting you first. 

When she entered the bar in the lobby of the hotel, she saw her parents instantly. They were sitting at a small table in the corner of the bright room, conversing quietly. Her father kept shaking his head, and her mother seemed to be insisting on something. 

Making her way over to the table, Ingrid schooled her features and took a deep breath. 

“Hi.” She said neutrally, taking the open seat at the table without really looking at either of her parents. 

“Ingrid.” Her mom said happily. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

Your sister dug her nails into her palm. Think of Sol. Think of what they have done.

“I’m not here to chat. I am here to tell you to stay away from Sol. She isn’t ready to see either of you right now. I didn’t realize I had to be specific in my request for you both to not come to the final, but you’ve crossed the line here. You had no idea how upset Sol is.”  

“Ingrid, we didn’t mean to run into her. We just came to see you play. It was completely coincidental, our flight back home leaves this evening.” Her dad explained. 

“You told us what Sol needed, and we want to respect that. But we have really missed you, and you’ve had such an incredible season. We just wanted to see you play.” Her mom chimed in. 

“And what about Sol? Have you missed her?” Ingrid asked bitingly. 

“Of course we have. I know we… I messed up. I made a lot of mistakes. I wasn’t well, Ingrid, but I’m doing better now and I want-”

“Sol is not going back to Norway.” Ingrid snapped. 

Her mother nodded instantly. “I know. I want your sister to be happy, and it seems like she is. The best place for her is with you, I understand that. I don’t get to be upset that she doesn’t want to come home, not when I’m the reason she had to leave in the first place. I want to apologize to her, Ingrid. Not today, but maybe we can come to Barcelona? And we can talk to her.” 

The suspicion on Ingrid’s face said enough. Her mother knew then that what she had broken was not fixable. Her relationship with you may not even be salvageable, and her one with Ingrid was broken. Potentially beyond repair. 

“I don’t know. I’ll talk to her when we’re home to see if she wants to do that.” 

“Okay. Whatever you think is best, Ingrid.” 

The table fell into silence before your father spoke, his voice oddly choked up. “How is she?” 

Your sister’s eyes flickered to your fathers before she answered, trying to gauge his sincerity. “She’s okay. She’s doing better. It’s not perfect, but she’s happier. We got her a dog, and she’s making friends. Her and Mapi are… crazy together, but it’s fun. She’s going to be okay, I think.”

Your father gave Ingrid a watery smile, blinking hard. 

“Ingrid, I want to say I’m sorry to you, too.” Your mother said after a minute.

 Ingrid glared at her. “For what? I am happy to have Sol here, I love her. She isn’t a burden to me.”

Her mother flinched, wiping a tear off her cheek. “That’s not what I meant. I… she’s doing better, and that is because of you. Because you are doing an incredible job with her. I am sorry because what I have done has understandably pushed you away from me. And it isn’t fair for Sol not to have had an attentive mother, but it isn’t fair for you either, to lose me too. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry. I miss you, kjære. I love and  miss you both, but I understand.” 

Ingrid stared out the window for a moment, willing herself not to start sobbing. “Thank you for apologizing.” She said finally. “I miss you too, but that doesn’t change anything. Sol needs me, and she is my priority. She hasn’t been yours in a long time, but she is mine and I will do whatever she needs me to do. Even if that means not seeing you both.” 

Both your parents nodded solemnly. “We understand, Ingrid. Really, we do.”

Ingrid nodded, biting her lip hard to keep from crying. God, she wished Mapi was here right now. 

“Okay. You should get back to your sister. We’re so proud of you, Ingrid. We’ll be cheering you on in the champions league final, and if Sol decides to hear me out, you know how to reach me. I love you, darling.” Her mother said, standing and pressing a kiss to Ingrid’s head, before she walked away from the table. She, too, was trying to keep it together, for her daughter’s sake. 

Your father rose and gently patted her cheek. “I love you, kiddo. Fly safe.” 

“I love you too.” She whispered, but both her parents were too far away by now to hear her.

She couldn’t stop the tears from dripping down her face as she headed for the elevator. She wiped furiously at them, but they fell all the same. 

The elevator opened up in front of her, and she was met with a very concerned Frido. 

“Hey. Mapi told me you were meeting your parents, and I… oh, Ingrid.” Frido sighed. At the sight of Frido, Ingrid had stopped trying to fight it, stepping in closer and letting out a heart wrenching sob. Frido tugged Ingrid back into the elevator with her, carefully wrapping her best friend in a tight hug. 

“I know, I know. It really sucks.” Frido whispered, clicking the button for your sister’s floor. “You’re doing the right thing for your sister, though, and I’m really proud of you, Ing.” 

Your sister wished she could find it within herself to feel proud, but the only feeling she had was that she really just wanted a hug from her mom. And more than that, she wanted to go back in time and erase all the hurt from your life. She wished things could just be fixed but she knew they couldn’t be, not quickly, maybe not at all. And that was something she was going to have to live with.

-------

You seemed weighed down with despair when Ingrid arrived back in her room. And distracted, finishing the final touches of packing Mapi’s suitcase. Mapi hated packing, and you loved it, so there was no confusion on Ingrid’s part as to why this was occurring. What was a bit alarming for her, though, was that you didn’t even seem to notice the tear tracks on Ingrid’s face, even though you looked right at her. You were an observant person, and not noticing how upset your sister was spoke volumes towards how poorly you were handling this. 

Mapi didn’t miss it, though. Of course not. She glanced up, seeing her girlfriend’s face, her brow instantly furrowing in concern. Ingrid refused to meet her eyes, terrified that she’d start crying again, but this time in front of you. 

“Hey, Sol? Can you go up to Frido’s room and see if I left my book there?” Mapi asked. 

You nodded absentmindedly, walking right past your sister and out the door. 

“Come here, princesa,” Mapi sighed, allowing Ingrid to fall into her arms and bury her face in Mapi’s t-shirt. She just held the Norwegian for a few minutes, every so often pressing a kiss to the side of Ingrid’s head. Mapi made sure to thread her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair, as she always did when it was down, scratching gently at her scalp. Ingrid tried to focus on the smell of Mapi overwhelming her, instead of any of the one million emotions she was feeling. “Did it not go well?’

“No, it went okay. Good, actually. They’re both completely aware that this is their fault, and they aren’t going to try to make Sol go back to Norway. It was just hard. I miss them, and I know I shouldn’t-”

“Hey, no. There is no should or shouldn’t when it comes to how you feel, mi amor. You can miss them and be angry at them all at the same time. And missing them doesn’t mean you love your sister any less. Okay?”

“Okay.” Ingrid nodded, trying to muster a smile for her girlfriend. “Thanks for sending Frido down, I was kind of a mess.” 

Mapi just flashed a smile at the Norwegian, gently kissing her cheek. “I love you.” She said softly. 

Ingrid wilted slightly, overcome, as she usually was, at how ridiculously perfect her beautiful girlfriend was. “I love you too, María.” 

-------

Ingrid and Mapi had left you alone in the airport for five minutes, going in search of coffee before Ingrid went on a killing spree of some kind. And it was in that short period of time that Patri and Pina very suddenly appeared on either side of you, flopping into the open seats next to you. 

You regarded them warily, trying to figure out if they were going to say something about it or not. 

“If we have to kill someone for you, we will.” Claudia said matter of factly. “More importantly, though, Mapi is going to fall asleep on that plane. And you are going to write something on her forehead.” 

“Am I?” You asked, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. 

“You are. I am thinking something along the lines of… I love my girlfriend?” Patri suggested. 

“Single and ready to mingle.” Pina countered. 

“Heterosexual.” 

“World’s biggest simp.” 

“Loser.” 

“Little bitch.”

All three of you were giggling at this point, attracting the attention of a few of your sister’s teammates sitting nearby. Among them, Esmee. She was a quiet girl, incredibly kind and also fond of your sister. Esmee was shy, and as such, the words that came out of her mouth were completely unexpected. 

“#1 Real Madrid Fan.” She suggested, a small smirk on her face. 

You fell off your seat, tears forming in your eyes as you pictured both Mapi’s reaction to that being written on her forehead, and at Esmee being the one who had come up with it. 

You didn’t notice Ingrid and Mapi watching on from a few feet away, having stopped in their tracks at the sound of your laughter. 

“I didn’t think I’d see her smile for a few days at least.” Ingrid murmured. 

“Me either. Thank god for the two biggest imbeciles on the planet.” Mapi said with a roll of her eyes. 

“No, not imbeciles. They saw she was upset earlier, and they knew what they were doing just now.” Ingrid said softly, exchanging a look with Patri. The young captain sent Ingrid a huge grin and a sly thumbs up. 

Mapi got a slightly mushy look on her face. “My favorite imbeciles.” She decided. 

Ingrid laughed, shaking her head. She knew very well that Pina and Patri would be right back to being Mapi’s least favorite imbeciles. Just as soon as Ingrid helped them draw on her girlfriend’s face. 

--------

“I don’t even like penises.” Mapi grumbled, dragging her bag through the door. “Stupid thing to draw.” 

You and Ingrid choked back laughter. “No one gets a penis drawn on them because they LIKE penises Mapi.” 

“You are on my list Engen.” Mapi sneered, her face cheering up greatly as Bagheera ran to greet her. 

“Hey, just be glad Alexia stopped them from putting it on your forehead.” You giggled. 

Ingrid turned to you, wide eyed, while Mapi whipped around, her jaw dropping. “Ingrid said SHE stopped them from doing that!” 

You dodged the wack Ingrid tried to land on your arm, laughing even harder. “Nah, Ingrid was pro penis on the forehead. Alexia was too, until she realized there’d be cameras when we got off the plane, and she changed her mind.” 

The Spaniard frowned down at the large drawing on her forearm, before her glare turned to you. “Oh, just wait, Engen. You’ll regret this.” 

A scandalized look appeared on your face. “Me?! It was Pina and Patri.” 

“They will pay too, pequeña, don’t worry. You’ll all pay.” 

You rolled your eyes at the Spaniard’s dramatics, but your amusement completely disappeared when Ingrid rested a hand on your shoulder and turned you towards her. 

“Can we talk for a sec, Sol?” 

Worry clouded your face as you nodded, allowing Ingrid to lead you into the living room. She wanted to be honest with you, tell you what had happened as soon as she could. You both were home now, and she knew you’d be upset if she kept her conversation with her parents from you for any longer. 

Taking a seat on the couch next to Ingrid, you turned expectantly to Mapi. Ingrid never had an important conversation with you without her girlfriend there as a buffer. 

“I am going to get the dog.” Mapi said, giving you a reassuring smile before she headed back out the door with Scout’s leash in hand. 

“Ingrid, I didn’t really want to talk about-”

“I talked to mom and dad.” Ingrid interrupted, wincing slightly at the panic and hurt that flashed across your face. 

“Oh.” You mumbled. 

“I just wanted to tell them to leave you alone, sweetheart. We didn’t talk for very long. They just said that they want you to be happy. Mom was really… apologetic. And she said that she wanted to talk to you. I told her that it was up to you, whether or not you wanted to talk to her.”

“Oh.” You repeated. Ingrid couldn’t get a read on how you were feeling. Overwhelmingly, it seemed to her like you were anxious, so she reached out and took your hand. “Mom wants me to go back to Norway?”

“No, Sol. She wants you to be happy. And you’re happier here than you ever were in Norway. I think she just wants to talk. To apologize.” 

“Oh. Okay.” You paused, trying to slow your pounding heart. You didn’t have to go back. “Do you- do you want me to talk to her?” You asked insecurely, eyeing your sister with apprehension. 

Ingrid shook her head again, running a hand through her hair. “Solstråle, I want you to do what you want to do. I want you to decide what will be best for you. Don’t think about me, Sol. Think about you.” 

She spoke so earnestly, you had a hard time figuring out which thing she really did want. But the more you thought about it, the clearer it became. 

Ingrid had always been close with your parents. The last few months must have been really hard for her, barely speaking to them at all. Ingrid probably wanted you to make up with them, so that she could do the same. Even if you didn’t go back to Norway. You could put your family back together again. That was what Ingrid wanted. 

You opened your mouth to tell her you’d talk to your mom, before you slammed it shut again. 

Ingrid had also said she wanted you to choose what was best for you. And if you were sure about anything, it was that you weren’t ready to talk to your mom, not yet. It didn't come naturally to you, putting yourself first and making a decision that would be best for you, and not for the people around you. BUt you felt you owed it to your sister to be honest. To do what she was asking. Ingrid had done so much for you the last few months. She just wanted you to be happy. And you wanted to be happy, too. More than anything. 

“I… I’m not ready yet. I don’t want to talk to her. Maybe in a few months, but not… not now.” You said quietly. You didn’t seem confident in your decision at all, but Ingrid understood what that insecurity was really about. 

“Okay, Sol. Whatever you want sweetheart. Whatever makes you happiest.” 

You looked up at her, tears welling in your eyes. “Really?” 

Ingrid exhaled sharply, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Really.” 

You nodded your head, before leaning in towards Ingrid. She hugged you tight. 

“I’m really proud of you, Sol. Really proud.” 

You squeezed her tighter. You were proud of you, too.

------- :)

[miley1442111]

reams and reactions (part 1)- r.cameron

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a/n: HELLO! welcome to my new obx series, don't worry, if you follow me for cm or anything else I'll still be posting that, but i've just been on a obx binge recently so i cooked this story up in my head.

tropes: childhood bestfriends to lovers, enemies to lovers

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader (use of Y/n, and the nickname Bunny/ bun (but i promise not in a weird way there's a story to it i swear it's not just one of those weird smut things))

summary: how you and rafe fell apart, then finally meet again.

warnings: drugs, drug use, drinking, parental and sibling death, kissing, crying, violence, fighting, cursing, guys being creepy, misogyny, asshole dude. (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

2k+ words

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When Rafe was 5 years old, he ran with you in the garden of Tannyhill, chasing you in a game of tag. When he finally caught up to you, you both fell to the ground, limbs tangled in the way only friends did, giggling the way only friends do, and he pressed the sweetest kiss to your cheek. 

When Rafe was 8, he came sobbing at your doorstep, on the verge of throwing up. He’d run all the way there. His mom was dead. He didn’t know what else to do. Besides his mother, you were the only person you’d ever been there for him like that, showing him that emotions were ok, and normal. When he felt you hugging him, and crying with him, he knew he would be with you forever. That he would stick with you through anything. 

When Rafe was 10, he came back to your house after a particularly long day (aka you had no classes together) and you two sat on your couch with your family surrounding you, Romeo and Juliet on the screen. He felt himself blush when your sister made the joke that he was like your Romeo, since your dads didn’t get on. Though you both adamantly denied it, a few minutes later he felt your hand holding his under the blanket, your matching friendship bracelet brushing off each other's skin. He was smitten. A smile landed swiftly on both of your faces. 

When Rafe was 13, he watched as you walked down the aisle of his father’s second marriage, a bunch of flowers in hand. He thought you looked beautiful, you were so beautiful. The pale blue dress Rose had picked and, of course, white roses in your hand. You shot him a small smile, one he responded to by blowing you a kiss. You laughed it off and went to stand where you were meant to. Rafe’s eyes were glued to you through the entire ceremony, almost forgetting to give his dad the rings. After the ceremony, you two ran off, away from Tannyhill. You went to your ‘little cove’ as you’d call it. It was a tiny beach just beside your house, but it led into the most magnificent field full of wildflowers, insects, and tall grass. It was beautiful. You and Rafe spent the whole night there, joking and talking. Then he finally mustered up the courage to kiss you. You kissed him back, but you’d both never speak about it again, too scared to mess up your incredible decade of friendship. 

When Rafe was 15, he saw you for the last time. Three months earlier you had come to him, sobbing about the fact that you were moving to California of all places. More than a day's drive away. 42 hour drive. He promised you, no, swore to you that you’d keep in touch, that you’d be there for each other even with the distance. 

He was wrong. After a few months, he’d stopped texting back, stopped calling back, stopped being there for you. And he never saw you again. 

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Rafe woke up with a banging headache and an uncontrollable urge to vomit but swallowed it back and took the glass of water that remained on his bedside table for days at a time. Today was going to be shit. It was the 28th of July, the day you left him, and the day his world got turned upside down. This day was always hard. He was reminded of everything he’d messed up in life. What was he now? A drug addicted, drunk, piece of shit. He was barely getting by in college and he’d already had to repeat a year twice. Often, he’d go to your little cove and sit, thinking about what you were doing now. Were you a teacher, like you’d wanted to be as a kid? Were you an artist? He remembered how good you were at sketching. Were you even alive and he’d missed the funeral? What did you look like? What colour was your hair? Did you think about him?

Everything was too loud in his mind. He grabbed a beer, and set on his way. The cove was in full bloom, a sea of colours under the boiling sun. He sat in his usual spot, the spot where you two had kissed. You two had these small chairs that Rafe barely fit in then, and definitely didn’t fit in now, so he sat beside them. What time was it? Was the sun going down? He searched in his pocket for his phone, only to find it dead.

“Excuse me?” He turned to see a girl shouting from across the field. 

“Yeah?” he called back, feeling rather inconvenienced by the whole ordeal. 

“Do the Cameron’s still live in Tannyhill?” She asked. 

“Yeah, why?”

“Just an old friend, thanks!” 

And she walked off. He tried to remember her physical features as best he could, but ultimately forgot them in his pursuit of washing his troubles away with the beer in his hand. 

------------------

“Y/n? Is that you?!” Sarah squealed as she leant out the window of the Twinkie. 

“Sarah?” You practically ran into the road to meet her. The car was stopped at a stop-light, and she pulled you in to properly greet you. 

“Oh my god! It is so good to see you!” She smiled. Despite you and Rafe’s falling out, you’d stayed in touch with Sarah, even though you were a little older than her. You even followed Wheezie on instagram and texted back and forth sometimes. But Rafe… static. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’m here to teach, I just finished my 2nd year of college and I’m doing my work experience here!” You explained, as she pulled away from the hug. 

“So you’re going to be here, like for the whole year?”

“Not just the whole year, I’m moving back once I'm done with my exams,” you explained. “I’m doing this programme that means I can work from here and do college from here, I’m so fucking sick of California.”

Both Sarah and Kiara squealed with excitement, and the three boys cheered. You’d been friends with the pogues, being a sort of pogue-kook hybrid. 

Kiara pulled you in for a hug, then Pope, then Jj, then John B gave your hand a squeeze instead, since he was busy driving. 

“So you’re back for good?” Kie asked. 

“I’m back for as long as you’ll have me,” you smiled. 

“We have to celebrate tonight!” Jj cheered.

“There’s a party down at Figure 8, I’m sure Y/n’s kook heritage will get us in,” Pope shrugged and you all agreed. 

You spent the rest of the afternoon hanging around the pogues and Sarah and got ready at Kiara’s place for the party. Her parents welcomed you back with open arms, and then asked the dreaded question of ‘how are your parents?’

Your parents had been dead for 3 years. They’d died in an accident, and you’d been alone since then. 

“They’re good,” you lied. “Working hard back in California.”

That satisfied them, and they stopped asking. 

------------------

The Figure 8 party was just how you remembered them to be. Loud, drunk, and almost too much. Even though you had been 14 at the time, Rafe had convinced you to come to one, since he was friends with some older kooks who wanted him there. Halfway through you told him you were going home, and instead of just waving you off, he brought you to your little cove, and sat with you for a couple hours. After that he brought you back to his house, and you had a sleepover.

When you’d asked him why he did that, he’d just shrugged and said ‘I prefer being around you.’

God, you could’ve married that man. You were supposed to, if your diary ‘ideal life’ had gone to plan. 

Step One: Start dating Rafe

Step Two: Become highschool sweethearts and make it through college (even if it's long distance) and become a teacher! 

Step Three: Work as a teacher and live on the mainland for a few years, have Rafe propose in the little cove, say yes, obviously and start wedding planning. 

Step Four: Have the wedding at Tannyhill, move into a house on Figure 8 and start having kids, we’ll have 4 or 5 (Rafe wants 7 kids????? 4 or 5 is pushing it buddy), and live a long happy life as a teacher with Rafe and our family. 

Step Five: Die happy. 

Ok, it wasn’t exactly inspired, but come on, you were 13. 

You noticed what looked like a grown version of Topper in the crowd and when he turned and saw you, a smile grew on his face. He ran over and scooped you up in a hug.

“Bun! You’re back!”

Bun was the nickname you were given as a kid because well, you liked bunnies. You had two as a kid, and for a year, you wouldn’t respond to someone unless they called you bun. It was ridiculous, but people obliged all the same. You'd never regretted anything more in your life in that moment.

“Hey Topper,” you smiled. 

“Have you seen Rafe yet?” he asked.

“No, not yet,” you smiled slightly faltered, but you kept the smile up for good appearances. When you’d gone to Tannyhill yesterday, only Ward, Rose, and Wheezie were in, so your anxiety around seeing Rafe had grown. One day, he’d just stopped replying. Not one reason, not one apology. Nothing. One part of you wanted to say he didn’t even deserve to see you, and another missed her best friend/ supposed love of her life. “Is he around?”

“He is, but he’s high as shit,” Topper laughed. Rafe Cameron? Rafe Cameron was getting high?

“Rafe is high?”

“Oh yeah, he’s totally into all that shit now,” he laughed and you noticed the dilated pupils, the white residue on his nose, the red, irritated skin of his nose. He was high too. “It’s good shit too, you want some?”

“I’m good, just point me in Rafe’s direction,” you nodded, deeply uncomfortable with the drugs around. You’d grown up with a brother who did drugs, who’d died from drugs at the young age of 17. You didn’t want anything to do with drugs, but here you were, being led into one of the Figure 8 mansions to be led to Rafe Cameron, selling, and doing drugs. 

“Gentleman, I present to you, the Princess of Figure 8, making her great return, Bunny!” he cheered as all eyes turned to you. The group of boys cheered, getting up to give you a group hug. Rafe stayed seated. 

“How’s life on the mainland Bun?How was Cali?” Kelce asked, sitting down beside you as you joined the circle, trying to ignore the cocaine on the table. 

“It’s fine, but I’m back in the Outer Banks for good now,” you smiled as another round of cheers rippled through the group. 

“We’re finally good enough for you again?” Topper joked. “What’s brought you back home huh? Aside from the strapping young men?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m teaching here Top, I'm in my third year of college.”

“Shit no way, you’re a teacher?” Ryan, a sleeze you remembered from school. He was always the creepy guy, trying to look up girls' skirts and play kiss-tag at the ripe old age of 12. “You're way too sexy to be a teacher. You should be a pornstar or something.”

You felt bile rise in your stomach as a handful of the boys laughed at the joke. 

“That’s not funny,” Kelce defended. “Fuck off asshole.”

“What? You and I both have eyes and we can both see her tits. Too bad Cameron has dibs.”

You froze and looked to Rafe who was looking at you through hooded eyes. 

The silence was awkward, and you knew it was time to take your leave, even though you hadn’t said a word to Rafe, so you said your goodbyes and left in search of the pogues. 

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“Gentleman, I present to you, the Princess of Figure 8, making her great return, Bunny!” Topper announced as all eyes turned to you. 

Holy fucking shit. You were gorgeous, and it was you. Rafe’s Y/n. Rafe’s Bun. He was shocked to see you in the Outer Banks again, let alone in person again. You were here. In front of him. Then he realised, you were here. Here, where there was cocaine on the table, and he was the one selling it. Here, where there were about three guys looking at you like you were a piece of meat. Here, where he sat at the top of the table, stoned out of his mind. 

“How’s life on the mainland Bun? How was Cali?” Kelce asked, sitting down beside you as you joined the circle. Rafe could see you trying to ignore the table, staring directly at Kelce, all your attention on him. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. You were his best friend before you were anyone else’s friend. He’d known you better than anyone. And here he was, silent as he watched you talk to everyone else. 

“It’s fine, but I’m back in the Outer Banks for good now.” 

His heart almost stopped. Back in the Outer Banks, for good. 

“We’re finally good enough for you again?” Topper joked. “What’s brought you back home huh? Aside from the strapping young men?”

You rolled your eyes at him, but Rafe could tell it was playful. God, his life was so fun when you had been in it. Impromptu boat rides and trips to the mainland, spending hours just talking and laughing about nothing and everything all at the same time. He missed it. He missed you.“I’m teaching here Top, I'm in my third year of college.”

“Shit no way, you’re a teacher?” Ryan. Rafe often wondered why he even kept him around. He could feel the awful comment coming, but he knew he couldn’t stop it. “You're way too sexy to be a teacher. You should be a pornstar or something.”

Rafe felt the anger boil in his blood the second he said it. Ryan should’ve known better than to talk about you like that.

“That’s not funny,” Kelce defended, beating Rafe to it. “Fuck off asshole.”

“What? You and I both have eyes and we can both see her tits. Too bad Cameron has dibs.”

Rafe stared back at you as you truly looked at him for the first time that night. He couldn’t tell how you felt, something he didn’t like. Ever since you two were kids, he could always tell how you were feeling, what you were thinking. He could always anticipate what you needed. He didn’t know now and it scared him. He just looked back into your beautiful eyes, allowing himself to be lost in the fact that you were here in front of him. 

The silence was awkward and he knew it, so he didn’t protest when you took your leave, even if he wanted to. He spoke when he knew you were out of ear and eyeshot, he didn't need you know what he was about to do.

“Ryan?” he scoffed. “You have ten seconds.”

“Until what?” Ryan chuckled. 

Rafe counted down the seconds in his head, Topper and Kelce became more and more uneasy as the seconds went by. 

Rafe didn’t even give warning, he just got up, grabbed a nearby beer bottle, and smashed it over his head. Nobody dared to stop him, not even when he started punching Ryan, promising to kill him if he ever spoke about you like that again. 

People knew not to fuck with Rafe and, even after all these years, you were an extension of Rafe. Too bad Ryan forgot that.

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obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[hannyoontify]

little stars - kwon soonyoung

member | non-idol!hoshi x illustrator!reader

genre | fluff, newly est. relationship

word count | 2k with some change

synopsis | soonyoung sees you without makeup for the first time, and he notices something he’s never seen before

warnings | reader wears makeup, reader has freckles on their face, reader is implied to have insomnia but it’s not prevalent to the plot, reader is ticklish, soonyoung has an extensive vocabulary of terms of endearment that borderline make me wanna hurl if they were used unironically, soonyoung makes a shrek reference

notes | i have freckles on the back of my hands and have always been insecure of them but i remembered how my ex used to kiss them and say they were beautiful

Soonyoung’s not a criminal. He knows that. The last time he committed a serious crime was back when he was seven years old when he stole a new pack of crayons from his sister’s friends’ house after a play date.

(Two seconds after leaving said friend's house and he could no longer handle the overwhelming and crushing guilt and ended up running to his mom and crying, calling himself a “tiger thief.”)

So when Soonyoung urgently texts your best friend to ask for the password to your apartment, he can’t help but feel a dull pang of guilt in his chest as he inputs the numbers he sees into the digital keypad. His hands are shaking as the door unlocks and he fumbles through the doorway and upon your quiet and dark apartment.

It’s well past noon now and yet, there wasn’t a single hint of you in the living room and kitchen. The sink was still empty, the drying rack was full, the throw pillows on the couch looked too pristine, and the curtains were still closed. Fearing the worst, Soonyoung quietly made his way to your closed bedroom door, his sock-covered feet padding along the floor. 

He softly knocks once. Then twice. “[Name]?” No response. 

“[Name]? Baby? Are you awake?” When he doesn’t get a response, Soonyoung pushes the door slightly open. “I’m coming in…” 

In the dark room, all Soonyoung could perceive was a lump amidst the lush pile of stuffed animals and blankets, your sleeping form slowly rising and falling. “Baby…” He pushed the door wider, letting the minimal light from the living room stream past your doorway, shedding light into your dark room.

The lump under the big fluffy duvet stirred, squirming around as Soonyoung approached the side of your bed. He turned on the mushroom lamp you had on your bedside table and you let out a loud groan. 

While you stirred in your sheets, Soonyoung glanced around your room. He’d only been to your apartment a couple times in the past few months but he was already familiar to the layout of your bedroom. In the corner, next to the window was your desk with your extensive, impressive PC set-up. Sheets of half-drawn and unfinished pencil drawings were strewn across your drawing board and your desk was a flurry of paper, reference photos, and pencils.

Soonyoung felt a pang in his chest at the realization that you had probably stayed up until ungodly hours trying to finish your illustrations. You were an artiste and you had a bad habit of working until you practically dropped dead when you were struck by a lightning of inspiration.

“[Name], love, it’s time to wake up. It’s already past 3 in the afternoon. Sleeping is for the nighttime.” You poked your head out of the blanket, the edge of the fluffy duvet resting right below your eyes and covering the rest of your face. 

You stared at him blankly with bloodshot eyes and Soonyoung swore he saw—and heard—the gears turning in your head. It took you a couple seconds to recognize your boyfriend. “Soonie?” You croaked out, your voice still hoarse having woken up just seconds before.

Soonyoung smiled at the nickname and affectionately patted your head. “Time to wake up, sleepy head. Don’t wanna ruin your sleep schedule. Late night, huh?”

You nodded and rubbed an eye. “Deadline was…” You yawned. “Last night. Couldn’t sleep either.”

Soonyoung nodded sympathetically. 

“What- what time is it?” You blinked at him with the blanket still covering the rest of your face. Your hair was a tussled mess that was fanned out on the pillow behind you.

“3 pm, baby. C’mon. Let’s get you out of bed.” Soonyoung gently pulled the blanket away, revealing the rest of your face and your matching tiger pajamas. Your boyfriend stared at your clothes, an ambiguous look in his eyes that made you unsure of whether he found your pajamas adorable, or if he simply coveted your clothes and hence boosting you up to top 3 on his rob list, next to his model friend, Joshua and his tiger striped patterned button-up.

(That button-up wasn’t even his, it was something his stylist had just put on him for one of his magazine photo shoots.)

Meanwhile, reality had finally begun to settle in for you as you just realized that your new, hot boyfriend was standing in your bedroom, fluffy hair galore. He was standing over you with a twinkling look in his eyes, clad in a pair of black sweatpants and a white tank top, his muscles flexing and rolling as he tugged the blanket off of you.

You then suddenly became painfully aware of your appearance. You were in your embarrassing tiger character pajamas and your face was painstakingly bare. Your hands flew up to your hands and you flipped over, burying your face into your pillow with a loud groan. 

“Soonie, can you wait outside for me?” Your voice was muffled by the fabric of your pillow. 

Soonyoung reached out for your shoulder and his eyebrows scrunched up with worry. “Why? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

With your hands still covering your face, you rolled back and peeked at your boyfriend through your fingers. “I’mmph mmm wmmph any mammphup.”

Soonyoung chuckled and gently grabbed your wrists. “Baby, I can’t understand what you’re saying.” 

“I’m not wearing any makeup,” you whined. “You’ve never seen me barefaced before, I’m embarrassed.”

“Nooooo, baby, lemme see your hot and sexy face,” When you wouldn’t budge, Soonyoung sighed in fake exasperation. “Then you leave me no choice.”

He crawled into the empty spot next to you in bed and wrapped his big arms around you, prying your hands away from your face. 

You giggled and wriggled away from Soonyoung, using everything within you to try and hide from your boyfriend who was now currently pinning you to the mattress jiu-jitsu style. You shrieked when Soonyoung’s cold fingers dug into your sides, causing you to writhe around under him, like a fish without water. You gasped for air as Soonyoung tickled you but your hands still firmly covered your face.

“Baby, babe, pookie bear, my sweet sugar plum, my snookum bear, honey bunch, sweet cheeks, pooh bear, pudding pie, my cutie patootie, snuggle bear,” Soonyoung gently grabbed your wrists again. “I don’t care if you’re the pretty princess version of Fiona or the ogre version. I’ll be the Shrek to whichever version you are, because,” Soonyoung placed a hand over his chest and spoke after a dramatic pause. “It’s the heart that truly matters.”

You snorted. 

“Are you laughing at me and my Shrek analogy? You know it took me a long time to think of that.” Soonyoung seemed to deflate and he pouted.

“Of course not baby. I think your Shrek analogy is genius,” You peeked through your fingers, just in time to see his chest swell again with pride–you had complimented his Shrek analogy! “But I’m still not showing you my face.”

“BABY NOOOOO,” Soonyoung dramatically threw himself against you, his fingers seeking refuge in your armpits this time, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles. “LEMME SEE YO FACEEEEE.”

“Nooooo,” you whined. Despite your protests, you couldn’t help but giggle as Soonyoung tried different combinations of kissing and tickling to try and get you to open up.

Thanks to his stubbornness and his iron grip, he was finally able to pry your hands off your face and pinned them against the pillow next to you. In the midst of wrestling you, Soonyoung had ended up on top of you, his legs straddling your waist and he looked down at you with a triumphant grin. “Gotcha.”

His eyes were roaming around your face, evidently studying you as you tried to avoid eye contact. Your giggles slowly subsided, and you heard Soonyoung trying to catch his own breath. When he finally managed to lock his eyes with your own, there was a softness in his eyes in the way he looked at you that you had never seen before.

Breathless, Soonyoung spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You… have freckles…”

“H-huh?” You felt your cheeks burning as your boyfriend timidly brought a hand up to your face. His fingertips softly grazed your skin, his touch so light and gentle, you would’ve thought it was just a light gust of wind if you hadn’t been paying attention. Soonyoung’s eyes stayed trained on your cheeks, his eyes examining each and every individual freckle with a gentleness you had never seen from him before.

You’ve always been aware of the freckles on your face, but they’ve never received this much attention from someone before. It felt awkward, but it also felt… intimate. It felt nice for your beauty marks to be appreciated, and your heart swelled with affection at the sweet gesture from your boyfriend. 

Soonyoung continued to study the freckles, his fingers lightly tracing your skin with a feather-like touch. As if he was trying to commit every single detail of you to memory. Finally, his eyes meet yours and the corner of his lip tugs up, hinting a smile. “You’re beautiful.”

You feel the heat on your cheeks spreading across your face to the tip of your ears and you become unsure of how to respond. Sure, you’ve received compliments before, but not like this. No compliment you’ve ever received has ever been this intimate or vulnerable. The way Soonyoung said those two words made it sound like a secret. A secret that he uttered quietly into the void, whispering it into existence, just for you to hear. A secret only the two of you would know.

You thought your heart was about to burst. 

Soonyoung cupped your face with both his hands and his thumbs rubbed gently against the soft skin on your cheekbones. You blinked up at him, watching his big, dark eyes roam around your face. The light of your mushroom lamp reflected in his eyes, sparkling and shining with a child-like wonder. 

Your room was dimly lit, the muted colors in your room solely provided by the small lamp on your bedside table. It had begun to rain at some point, the dull pitter-patter of the rain against your window replicating the beating of your heart. 

After what seems like forever, you finally speak up. “Soonie?”

Soonyoung begrudgingly tears his eyes away from your freckles and looks into your own, shining eyes. “Yes, baby?”

“I–” you faltered, unsure of what to say. You pursed your lips and stared at your boyfriend who gave you a soft, loving smile. “Are my freckles that interesting?”

Soonyoung’s grin grew into a boy-ish one and he reached over and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Yes, honey. I want to commit every part of you to memory. I want to learn the story behind every freckle and scar. I want to learn all of you.” 

You felt an unfamiliar warmth stir in your heart, that soon spread throughout the rest of your body, through your fingertips and every cell of your being. Your heart fluttered. Was this what poets and lyricists meant when they wrote of love

“They’re like… I mean, I’m not a poet but-” Soonyoung fumbles as he searches for the right words to describe the immeasurable admiration and love he felt for you. 

Your freckles were strikingly beautiful and Soonyoung felt the wind getting knocked out of him when he first saw the sweet brown sugar sprinkled on your nose and cheekbones. They were like April rain showers that sprinkle the green grass with yellow flowers and Soonyoung thought your face mimicked the night sky, your freckles glinting and gleaming like countless stars. 

“Your freckles… they remind me of beautiful constellations. They can create illustrations in the night sky by connecting the dots and they tell stories, your stories.” Soonyoung paused. “And I love them.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Was he-?

“I love you.”

Soonyoung gazed down at you with an uncertain look, his eyes searching your own for some kind of response. His heart hammered against his chest as he wondered if you felt the same way yet. 

You did. 

“I love you too, Soonyoung. And baby?”

“Hm?”

“That was so much better than your Shrek analogy.”

reblogs and feedback are always appreciated ^-^

[lostintransist]

This Bunny Bites | Part 8

Check out part 1 here. Shout out to @gildui for the divider!

When Ghost enters the rented house he hears the retching first. He takes the stairs two at a time and finds Price at the top of the stairs. He nods to Ghost.

“He’s been in there since she left. He has got to be tossing up acid at this point.” Price rubs a finger and thumb through his brows. “You are his best friend and better for things like this, despite your teacup of an emotional range.”

Ghost glared at his captain, but didn’t argue the statement. No use fighting over the truth. Price stepped around him, starting down the stairs.

“Let me know if we will need the stronger drinks to get through tonight.”

Pushing the door open he sees Soap. Face in the bowl, body collapsed against the porcelain. Even his mohawk listlessly leans to one side. Ghost sits down next to him, back against the wall. It takes a moment of adjusting to find a comfortable position that doesn’t leave his feet or knees stuck at a painful angle.

“She was maybe fifteen when the bastard kicked me out.”

His voice came out with a slight echo and muted all at once.

Ghost waited.

Soap pushes up from the toilet bowl, face ashen.

“We share a dad. Her mom died when she was nine and she came to live with us. I was eleven or barely twelve and we didn’t get along. I didn’t want her there but dear old dad fought for her in court. Her grandmother wanted her and used up a lot of money to get her. Once the courts ruled that she had to live with us our dad moved us across the country and left no forwarding address.” He pulls a hand across his mouth, dry heaving against it.

“I didn’t understand that us moving wasn’t her fault. I hated her for being the reason I had to leave all my friends behind. I had hoped that I would get beat less with another person there to share in his anger. If anything having her there meant we both got beat more. Blamed her for that too.”

Soap slid back from the toilet, repeatedly banging his head against the wall. He only stopped when Ghost slid his hand behind his friend’s head to catch the blow. Soap’s tears started then.

“I hated her for everything that was our father’s fault. The day I left he took a swing at me and I had had it. I swung back at him and knocked him flat on his ass. His head hit the counter on the way down. He passed out. I panicked. I ran to my room and threw everything I could into a bag. I had to get out of there. Bunny heard the commotion and found Dad passed out on the kitchen floor. She knew it had to have been me. She was only fourteen, maybe fifteen. She begged me to take her. Begged me. I didn’t want to. She was the reason for all my problems and I had to leave her there. She tried to block the door to my room with her small body. I pushed her. She fell and I stepped over her. I grabbed all my important documents from Dad’s room and left. Bunny didn’t move from the hallway floor, just sobbed as I left her behind.”

Ghost let his friend cry. He pulled Soap’s head to his shoulder, offering strength in the only way he knew how. Lord knew he couldn’t help at all if he tried to talk.

“Why do you call her Bunny?” he asked after Soap had sat silent for nearly five minutes.

“She had a stuffy when she got dropped off by child services. She hugged that thing so tight I worried it might explode in her arms. She wouldn’t speak when she arrived. I had to call her something so I just started calling her Bunny. By the time she was ten she hated the nickname, so obviously being the punk I was I called her nothing else.”

They slid into silence once again. After a few minutes, Ghost opened his mouth to speak.

Soap cut him off.

“I know it’s not my fault what he did to her. Even if I had stayed he might have done it anyway. There is nothing I could have done to save her beyond killing the bastard. I know that Simon,” his voice broke, “I know I should have been a better brother. And I want to be now. I want a chance to have a sister, not an enemy.”

“I was actually going to ask if you wanted to send Gaz for some ice cream but I’m glad you know it’s not your fault. We have enough sins to our names, no use adding other peoples to the list.” Ghost replies dryly.

Soap laughs, “Yeah, let’s send Gaz for some ice cream. I still want to punch him in the face from Bunny calling him ‘lover boy’.” He threw up air quotes around the reference.

“I mean she is pretty fucking ho-”

Ghost is cut off when Soap’s fist meets his ribs.

“Finish the fucking sentence and I will gut you in your sleep,” he growled.

Standing Ghost offered a hand down to Soap.

“Come on, let’s go tell Gaz about his new job.”

Soap grabbed the offered hand and pulled himself up.

“Thanks for being my best friend Ghost.”

“Don’t mention it, no one else will believe you.”

The phone ringing is what wakes you. Blinking against the bright light of your phone you can make out the button you need. Accepting the call you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“This is Caroline.”

Caroline owned the club you danced at. She never called you. Sitting up straight you rub the sleep from your eyes.

“Hi Caroline, how can I help you?”

She sighs before speaking, “I have been talking with Todd about the incident from a few nights ago.”

“You mean the night that he failed to kick out clients who were going to start a fight before it escalated? The night that I cleared the club and sent the girls home for their safety? That night?” You are fully awake now.

“Is that what happened?” The careful tone of her voice tells you that is not how Todd spun the incident.

“Did you review the tapes yet?”

“I have, I was surprised to see you pull an air horn from my ceiling.”

The flush starts from your chest but covers your face in heat too.

“I may have stashed that up there when Todd started. I have been in situations where an air horn could have been extremely helpful. I’ve worked with managers like Todd before who let patron fights get out of hand. The last time it happened I ended the night with a broken arm and couldn’t work for six weeks.”

“I see. Thank you for telling me. I will talk to the other girls about their interactions with Todd. As for you, there is no need to come to work tonight. Effective today we are removing you from the schedule. I will be emailing you your termination paperwork.”

“What?” Shock steals the power from your words.

“I’m sorry, this decision was already made and paperwork submitted on my end. I can’t have a dancer who usurps the manager on duty.” Caroline does sound genuinely sad about the decision.

You can’t find any words to beg her to change her mind.

“You’re a good dancer and I know you will find work quickly. Goodbye.”

With that Caroline disconnects the call.

You let the phone drift from your ear to rest in your lap. The screen shows it is Sunday around nine am. The phone times out, the screen going black leaving you in darkness.

Your mind is racing. You have the money to cover your daily costs but you were so fucking close to being out of this. You just needed a bit more time. Looks like you needed to finish this job with your brother.

You decide to get up and get dressed, you have brunch with Cara in a few hours.

Part 7 |

Masterlist

[emmyrosee]

NOT A REQUEST DONT YOU DARE WRITE IT I just want to make you laugh at a thought that I had.... I spent my entire morning reading ALL of your suna x reader writings bc I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK.... and I just realized that if the writings are all in the same universe then I can only imagine akito's deadpan reaction to seeing his mom's name as "doodoo fart" on his dad's phone. or worse all the kids start calling their mom that to both of the parent's horror LMAO. like one of the terror twins and Kaiya are DEFINITELY whipping it out one day lol. the conclusion is that suna is sleeping on the couch with the traitors tn while mom!reader gets to cuddle with her angels.

BUT I WANT TO WRITE IT SO BAD

Bc Akito finds it out by accident and just goes “who the heck is doodoo fart?” and rin’s just like “oh your mother.”

“Mom’s doodoo fart?”

“Yeah. I think I’m booger eater in her phone or something else feral.”

“That’s vile.”

Rintaro just smirks, and in perfect timing you come in with the two little twins in your arms, “rinnie, can you help me bathe the tiny terrors?” To which your husband nods, and your son, confidently, firmly, without missing a beat, goes:

“He’d love to, doodoo fart.”

The world stills as you shoot a fake smile at rintaro, the twins looking up at you while Akito chuckles to himself. Rintaro chews his lip, “Akito, tell me, why you’re trying to get me killed?”

“Because it’s funny.”

“Yeah. Hilarious.”

“What’s Hilary-us?” Kaiya asks, and before rintaro can stop him, Akito laughs at his sisters question.

“Mom’s nickname is doodoo fart.”

Your cheeks blaze as your six year old giggles, and at the laughter, your twins echo the sound and paw at your face, “Rinnie?”

“…yeah?”

“You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“….i know.”

“Sleepover in mom’s room?” Akito asks, and Kaiya cheers while rintaro groans.

“You’re not helping,” he grumbles.

“I’m helping me, dad.”

[tending-the-hearth]

so bc they're on my brain and the amount of people acting like clarisse should be hated on the same level as luke is making me go feral so hcs about one of my favorite girls and her annoying brother percy <3

she and percy's names in each other's phones are "rissy" and "prissy" and they absolutely refuse to tell that to anyone

the only time people find out about the nicknames is post-blood of olympus when the head counselors meet with the camp jupiter senate and they go off in private and percy just grins at clarisse and says "hey rissy" and it's one of the only times anyone ever sees her truly cry and they have a teary reunion where they're definitely hugging each other way too tight

clarisse definitely gets closer with sally and paul when percy disappears. she visits more, and even spends the weekends there if she's having a bad time. she also bonds more with annabeth during that time too

post-chariot quest percy and clarisse check in on each other a little more. for them, it's in the form of sparring, so people think they're back to their rivalry, but they're really just having the time of their lives, laughing and grinning at each other

they have a heart-to-heart in the time between battle of the labyrinth and last olympian, where clarisse genuinely apologizes to percy, and they have a talk about everything percy's ever overheard, everything that happened with chris, with ares, with gabe, end it's very very healing for both of them

honestly that's the point where they start to see each other as siblings. percy brings clarisse back to the apartment, and sally and paul immediately just fall in love with her and are ready to adopt her then and there

clarisse and grover are the next ones that sally and paul reveal the pregnancy to, and clarisse tries so hard not to freak out until sally talks about how happy she is that estelle will have two wonderful big sisters to look up to.

GOD when percy first disappears, and clarisse wakes up to the sound of annabeth screaming for her boyfriend. it's the first time since silena's death that she's felt utter and horrifying fear in her heart

clarisse is one of the main campers to go out looking for percy, to the point where she's barely at camp

they send each other the stupidest photos, like i mean the absolute ugliest photos in the entire world, and each of them has a separate folder in their camera roll for it

there's a point during heroes of olympus where clarisse starts calling sally and paul mom and dad, and when percy comes back and it happens in front of him he just gets the biggest, stupidest smile on his face before clarisse punches his arm and shoves him off his chair

clarisse and percy have weekly dinners at sally and paul's <3333 where it's just the four of them + estelle once she's born

percy, texting clarisse after living in nr for a while: "hey i'm visiting mom for the weekend do you want to get lunch"

clarisse: "i hope your bus crashes and you die in a fireball"

also clarisse: "noon @ mcdonalds tomorrow if you're late i'll have a panic attack"

annabeth and chris see their text conversations and half of it is the two of them threatening to kill the other and use every piece of blackmail they have on each other and the other half is the deepest, most emotional conversations they've ever seen

literally no one understands their friendship, the rest of the seven asks annabeth about it one evening after seeing clarisse clothesline percy and steal his food before he sits down beside her and they engage in a quiet, obviously personal coversation that ends in a tight hug and annabeth just shrugs

[the-kr8tor]

KATY AGAIN, CONGRATULATIONS, HONESTLY I FEEL LIKE A PROUD LITTLE SISTER 🥳🤭💕💕 , YOU'VE COME SO FAR, I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT! I just wished I'd met you sooner, then I could call myself an og 💪 *sigh*

Feel free to ignore my rec if you have no inspiration, or there are other recs that need tending to 🥺

Can I get a ❣️ shaped bottle full to the brim of epsom salt and Baby's breath, please! - a short fluffy drabble consisting of the twins helping their father out during his day to day tasks on the ship

Thank you ml ❤️❤️ you're an honorary og in my heart 🩷

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 3k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw pregnancy talk, cw food mentions, dad! Hobie, mom! Reader, an au of my BDAS series, Billie and Ramona AU, Twins AU. Fluff!

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

“Wake up, guppies.” Hobie whispers, hands placed on Billie and Mona's shoulders, rocking them awake. It's easier when they prefer to sleep on the same bed even though they have their own right next to each other. He traces each of their noses, and they wiggle it in their half sleep state. “Thought you two wanted to help the captain today?”

Ramona is the first one to wake up, yawning, similar grey eyes cracking open. “Hi, dad.” She gives him a soft smile that Hobie reciprocates.

“Hello, guppy.” He gently rubs away sand from her sleepy eyes. “Good dream?”

“Yes, it was the mermaid dream again.” She whispers, ever so polite. “Bee and I were reading under the water while you and mum were making us hot chocolate.”

Hobie tilts his head with endearment. “How could you read underwater when the books would get wet?”

Her eyes shine, “mermaid magic.”

“I wouldn't have thought that, lovie.” She giggles, stretching on the mattress. Her hand smacks Billie to wake, groaning and frowning while she stirs.

Hobie senses an early tantrum. “G’morning, shark.”

She smiles at the ‘menacing’ nickname. Crisis averted. “Morning, daddy.” Turning towards Mona, she flicks her bicep. “You hit me.”

“Sorry, mon.”

Again, Hobie senses a fight. He's getting good at this. “What did you dream ‘bout, guppy?” He tucks away curls that have fallen in front of her face. That seemed to soften the twins away from fighting.

“I dreamed that grandad Miguel visited us on the ship and he was wearing a duck costume.”

“A duck costume?” Hobie and Mona ask at the same time.

Billie giggles with a shrug, “maybe he likes ducks.”

Hobie chuckles, too loudly. He quickly twists around to check on you. Thankfully, you still lay asleep, drooling on the pillow. Satisfied, he returns his attention towards his girls. “You two know the drill. Get dressed, brush your teeth—”

“And eat breakfast, then help the crew and captain dad.” They finish his sentence for him with a grin, twin telepathy working its magic.

He gives them a proud smile, patting each of their cheeks. “That's my girls.”

—

All three of them sit and eat outside with the ever rambunctious crew. Loaves of bread are being tossed around as people ask for them, jams are passed to and fro while Billie and Mona happily chatter with Yuri and Ned. Hobie smiles as the sun shines down on the long table, everything seems perfect with only Gwen, Miles, Pavitr and a handful of the crew with them are away on the second ship. The twins miss them dearly but after a few restless nights of them bawling their eyes out, they're counting down the days until they return back on the main ship.

The only person who isn't miles away but is very much missed on the breakfast table is you. Hobie resists the urge to wake you up, to pepper your face with saccharine kisses until you wake. But you need the sleep, especially that you're carrying the youngest crew member in your growing belly.

After breakfast, Billie and Mona help take down the dishes to the galley where Finn waits for each plate and utensil with a mountain of patience since the tiny crew members could only carry two plates at a time with some help from James. And James distracts them a lot with his stories. One time, Finn has been waiting for the next batch of dishes to be brought down, only to find the trio sitting on the stairs while James turns into their personal storyteller. Thankfully this time though, the only hang up is that Billie and Mona have small legs that don't cover much ground. With the combined help of James and Hobie (even though he needed to talk to Yuri) helped with the dishes.

Next on the agenda is a meeting with his navigator and a few of the crew members inside the captain's office. The twins seem to hate this only thing on the schedule. They sit and wait, and wait some more. With boredom etched on their faces, Ned had a brilliant idea to place a blanket down over a free table where the girls could hang out with their books, toys and drawing notebooks that Miles gifted them. Their giggles and own meeting about which biscuit is the best can be heard under the table while Hobie talks about strategy, he couldn't help but smile the entire meeting. Now it's their favourite part of the day until they see you awake that is.

Hobie brought them back on the deck with the sole purpose of teaching them how to tie knots. Or rather, they begged him to teach them. His calloused hands tie a simple ribbon around a bannister using a silk ribbon instead of the usual rough rope so that their hands wouldn't be irritated by it. His mind wanders back to the day that he first taught you how to properly secure a knot, it seems like forever ago now. But it's not so much a distant memory for him everytime he looks at you, and traces the scars on your palms— it's as if it happened just yesterday.

Waking up from his thoughts of you, he turns around to check on their progress. “Let's see what you've done then.” He's greeted by Mona's curly hair tied around the silky ribbon while Billie's curls are almost identical to hers. All tied around a cute ribbon. Though the pigtails are a bit wonky, they look absolutely adorable. He wishes that Miles could draw the moment so that he could show you later.

“Did we do good?” Mona smiles hopefully, Billie gives her dad the biggest, most adorable grin that could rival the brightness of the sun. Upon seeing this, Mona does the same, even making her eyelashes flutter. A trick that she must've gotten from you.

Hobie crouches down to their height, hands running along their hair and checking the neat ribbons. Surprisingly, they're pretty good at it. Wait till you hear your daughters are better at tying ribbons than you.

He exhales to compose himself from all the cuteness lest he scoops them up in his arms and scream into the sea, telling neptune himself at how adorable his children are.

“Brilliant, you're both brilliant.” They giggle, puffing their chests proudly.

Lo and behold, Hobie still scoops them up in his arms, giving them a squeeze. Both girls shriek happily, legs kicking about as Hobie rises to his full height. He has an idea, which might make Ned pop a blood vessel.

“How about we steer the ship?” Their eyes widened, excited screeching echoing around the deck as they nod furiously.

—

You wake up to the quiet lull of the sea. Waves lapping at the great ship, wood creaking, and blankets falling off your body when a tall wave meets the side of the ship. Water splashes against the porthole, stirring you awake further.

“—Bie?” Your throat scratches with sleep, eyes still heavy as you pat his side of the bed. “Hobie?” Finding it cold and empty, you prop yourself up by your elbows, sniffing at the cool air. “Billie? Mona?” Looking over your girls' toddler beds, you disappointedly find them both empty.

Their rooms aren't quite ready yet according to their standards, the walls aren't pink enough, and their desks aren't big enough. But you and Hobie think that they're still a little bit afraid of sleeping in their own room without the comforting presence of their mum and dad. You don't mind it at all, you also don't think you can sleep without their soft snores across the room. They are still your babies after all.

It's not unusual to find the captain's quarters devoid of your little family, not when both girls are starting to get used to their sea legs after spending the first three years of their life waddling around the shores of your shared home. They were beyond ecstatic when you and Hobie told them that it's the right time to go back to sailing the seas, something that you thought that they wouldn't even care about. But of course they would be excited, after all, their father is the greatest pirate to ever sail the seven seas (according to him and his girls.)

They're very much at home on the ship, so much so that they always wake up their ‘captain dad’ so they could help him with his morning routine even before breakfast is served. Hobie also loves being back, it's like he has never left the embrace of the tides.

Hobie has been a great sport the entire time, whenever the girls would cry about motion sickness or throwing tantrums when they want to climb up on the crow’s nest (because if aunt Yuri can do it, so can they!) he would be there helping you calm them down. Even though he hates waking up before the sun is barely peeking over the horizon, he loves it when he wakes up to his girls' smiling faces. There's nothing better than stirring awake with their little hands patting his face until they ultimately give up and use their feet to kick his legs. The girls would wake you up too but with you carrying the newest crew member in your bump, they're opting to just wake up their dad for now. Hobie has managed to convince the girls that you needed twice the amount of sleep because of the baby. Or managed to swindle them with hot chocolate in the morning, based on the fact that whenever you kiss each of them good morning, they always smell like the sweet drink.

You swing your legs at the end of the bed, socked feet padding along the room to grab your sweater, (or Hobie's old sweater for that matter) after changing and washing your face with the water basin, you head off towards the upper deck. Knowing that they're running along the floors trying to take the mop from James, who refuses to give up his job to a couple of four year olds. Walking along the corridors doesn't leave you winded just yet, you can still see your foot if you look down despite the bump. You have no idea if you can traverse the large ship once you hit the stage of having a stomach as big as a watermelon instead of the coconut sized belly you're strutting around with.

Passing along the galley, you pause at the open doorway, seeing Finn make pie crusts has you wanting to stay and help out. And by help out, you mean taking a little nibble of fruit while he looks away. You still remember the days where you used to spend hours helping in the kitchen.

“Knock knock.” You greet him with a smile. “Have you seen a certain pair of twins with their dad running after them?”

Finn chuckles, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. His grey hair weaved around blonde strands has the twins calling him Santa, or when they're in a good mood (when they want a sweet treat) they call him grandpa Finn, that has the older pirate folding immediately and making whatever the girls want. Unsurprisingly enough, he answers back. “A pair of twins and a pirate walk into a bar, I think I've heard of that joke before.”

“Different joke, Finn.” You snort, eyeing the bowl of blueberries on the counter. Finn, being the perceptive chef on board, notices your hard stare at the fruit.

Without a word, he nudges the bowl towards you, and then he points up towards the deck, replying to your previous question.

“This is why you're my favourite crew member.” Latching onto the bowl, you take it with a smile. “Don't tell Yuri.” He makes a face, putting both flour coated hands up in surrender.

You leave with a grin and a bowl of blueberries. It's still a mystery to you on how Finn keeps them fresh even after weeks of buying them from the last coastal town you anchored in for supplies. You guess you'll never know.

Walking up the steps towards the deck, you're greeted by blinding light as you open the door with a creek. The sight alone would've had you melting if not for the fragile bowl in your hands. Hobie stands on the highest deck with Billie and Ramona in his arms. While both girls are ‘steering’ the ship with their small hands gripping on the wheel as if they're actually sailing the huge ship.

“Mornin’ gorgeous.” Yuri nudges your side, hands dipping inside the bowl to take a handful of fruit, sunlight dancing along her features. “Sleep well? Or did the little pirate keep you awake?”

With the mention of the baby, your hand instinctively pats the bump softly. “Nope, the baby barely kicked me last night. And Hobie helped by letting me sleep in.”

Yuri hums, smiling softly between you and the twins laughing in their dad's arms. “He better, or I'll be the one to kick Hobie where the sun doesn't shine so he doesn't experience fatherhood ever again.”

You laugh, “that is bleak, Yuri.”

She shrugs, “I'm a pirate, Y/N, a pirate who hasn't shot her gun at a navy in months.”

“Sure, big bad pirate, who has made my girls' clothes ever since they were born.” She huffs with a teasing smile, taking another handful of berries. “Don't worry, once Gwen and the others get back from their scouting mission, you get to be a big bad pirate again.”

“I'm turning soft, doc.” She looks at you with puppy dog eyes, lashes fluttering teasingly.

“I know, Yuri, you made my girls puppets last week.”

“And they were fucking gorgeous.”

You start to walk away before she takes half of your stash. “They were! If you get tired of being a pirate, maybe being a puppet maker is your calling.”

She flips you off, grinning from ear to ear before going below deck to maybe annoy Finn instead. Bounding up the steps, Hobie and the twins heard you before they saw you.

“Mummy!” They simultaneously call out, wiggling out of Hobie's arms. He lets them gently back down on the floor, to which they immediately latch onto your legs, trying to climb up.

“Hello, my darlings!” You coo, patting both their heads. Their matching captain tricorns make you giggle. “What have you two been up to?”

“A lot!” Billie jumps up and down to reach your hip, you meet her halfway by crouching down to their level. “We fixed the sail with uncle Ned—”

“We helped auntie Yuri find land by looking into her te-escope!”

You nod enthusiastically, smile blindingly bright as you hold on to them. “What else? You two looked busy with dad.”

Hobie leans on the wheel that's still not activated with the help of a rope tied around the bottom and the other end wrapped around the bannister. The girls are none the wiser. The sun bathes Hobie in glorious light, rays of light seeping through his linen shirt, looking as if no time has passed.

“I should be careful, they're goin' to take my job as captain if they continue their trainin’”

You gasp, feigning hurt. “You mean they're planning a mutiny?! No, not my own girls!”

“What's a mu-tiny?” Billie questions, brows furrowed, an identical look that her sister is also sporting.

Hobie closes the small distance, boots thumping along the floorboards, looking softly at his girls while his hands find their way on their heads. “Tell you what, help uncle James clean the poop deck and I'll tell you.”

“Aye, aye, captain dad!” They say at the same time, even saluting Hobie. Before they could run off, you call them back.

“Take the blueberries, share them with each other, alright? Pass it around to the crew too.” You hand the bowl to them, both girls give you a grin and a smooch to each of your cheeks as thank you. Sometimes you wonder how they could be this sweet, you've joked once that they're a gift from the sea with how kind they could be. “Careful! Don't run— and they're already running off.” Their small feet bound away towards an unassuming James.

“They got that from you.” Hobie helps you up, hand warm against yours. “Always runnin’ off, always so bloody energetic.”

You prop your chin on his shoulder, smiling at him. “Did they tire you out, old man?”

“We're the same age, love.” His hand wraps behind you to cup your hip, fingers tapping along your stomach. He watches as his girls prefer to sit down on the stairs to munch on their snacks. “How's our growing pirate?”

“Good, he didn't kick me all night this time.”

“You?” Hobie leans on the bannister, back pressed on the wood while he guides you in front of him, arms around you, thumbs brushing along your spine while you cradle his jaw in your hands.

“I'm okay, Hobs, nothing of note.”

“You sure? We can still turn around so you can give birth on land.” Worry etches on his face, and you rub your hand on his forehead to flatten the worry lines.

“You forget that I was born at sea, and I've given birth to your pirate gremlins without a problem. I can handle it, don't worry.”

Hobie has a glimpse of you back then, legs coated in crimson, screams echoing around the small cabin that even silences the roar of the sea next door. “Just say the word and we'll find the nearest land, yeah?”

“I promise,” he raises a brow and you roll your eyes. “You know I never break a promise, Cap'n.”

Hobie opens his mouth to quip back, but James’ screech makes you and the pirate in your arms to look. Billie giggles as she runs away with a mop, tracking water droplets on the deck while Mona drags James down with her clinging to his leg with a laugh.

“I think we should save James before he falls overboard. Again.” You unwrap yourself from Hobie, before you could leave his side fully, he gently tugs you back in for a quick but affectionate kiss and a loving pat on your belly.

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 2

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister, reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, verbal arguing, swearing, medical misinformation (I did my best y'all), pregnancy

Sharp Memorial Hospital, 12 Years Ago

“Buttercup!”

She gasped as the curtain to her room was drawn back quickly, revealing a stressed-out looking lieutenant and a sheepish looking older brother.

“Jake! I’m okay, I swear…”

“You passed out!” Jake exclaimed, rounding the hospital bed to stand by her side. “And they called Bob?”

She sighed, her fingers tapping anxiously at the tape securing the IV to her arm. “I’ve been here for, like, four months, babe. And it all happened kinda quickly, so I haven’t exactly had a chance to change my emergency contact yet.”

Jake reached out to grip her hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Do me a favour and at least add me to that list? I almost had a fucking heart attack when I landed, and Bob told me that you were in the damn hospital.”

Bob pushed his glasses up his nose as she turned her attention to him. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he muttered. “Are you okay, Buttercup?”

She grinned at the begrudging use of the nickname. Ever since Jake had bestowed it upon her that night, it was like her real name ceased to exist. Everyone called her Buttercup, despite Bob’s best efforts.

“I’m fine, you two worrywarts,” she rolled her eyes fondly as Bob scoffed and Jake squeezed her hand more firmly. “I got a little lightheaded at the bar and turned a little too quickly on my barstool. I was only out for like a second, but Penny wouldn’t let it go. Something about Mav being overprotective of his squad or something. She’s somewhere out there—” she motioned vaguely out the curtained doorway. “—filling out paperwork.”

“What were you doing at the bar?” Jake seated himself on the edge of her bed, green eyes turning stern. “You promised me that you were going to take it easy today, remember? I didn’t drag your ass to the doctor yesterday because you said you were “almost over this stupid flu”, and I only agreed because you promised you’d do jack shit today.”

Buttercup pouted at him, crossing her arms as best she could with one arm hosting the IV and Jake not releasing her hand. “I got bored,” she mumbled. “Plus, I thought the quick walk in the sun and fresh air would do me good!”

Jake groaned. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear to god. Next time, at least call someone to go with you.”

“Sure, Jake. I’m sure the Navy will understand you needing to take your girlfriend on a walk,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Clearly,” Jake shot back, gesturing around the curtained-off room.

“Alright, easy, you two,” Bob sighed, stepping further into the room. “Seresin, you can’t expect her to wait around for us to do stuff. What do you expect her to do when we get deployed?” Jake’s face fell for a split second before smoothing out into that unflappable mask he had mastered long ago. “And kiddo? Bagman might not show it ever, but he is a human being, which means he can be scared, and I’m pretty sure the news that you landed yourself here scared a decade off him. So, go easy on him, will you?”

She looked at her brother for a moment before sighing, nodding slightly, and turning back to Jake. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be more careful.”

He squeezed it back, lifting their linked hands to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “I’m sorry too. I’m not tryin’ to be controlling, I just…I don’t wanna see you hurt.”

Bob huffed and took a step back. “I’m going to go find Penny and see if she needs help with that paperwork.”

“Thanks Bobby,” she smiled softly at him. He winked playfully at her before turning his back and strolling out of the room, tugging the curtain closed behind him.

“What has the doctor said?” Jake brushed his hand over her cheek, tugging her attention back to him. “Any more dizzy spells? Do you need anything?”

“Easy, tiger, one question at a time. The doctor said I was pretty dehydrated from all the vomiting I’ve done over the past couple of days, and that was what probably caused the blackout. But he had a nurse draw some blood and they’re testing to see if it could be anything else.” She rubbed his arm reassuringly. “I’m a little dizzy still, but the fluids are helping. And I’m still pretty nauseated but they don’t want to give me anything until they get the test results back.” Jake nodded, his jaw ticking just once as his eyes raked over her face. “I’m okay, Jake. I promise.”

Buttercup kept up the soft pressure of her hand running up and down his arm until the mask he wore slipped and he sighed deeply. “I’m sorry I was a dick. I just want you to feel better.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry I got snippy.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to apologize. You’re the one in the hospital bed.” His thumb gently rubbed back and forth along the back of her hand. “God, I hate fighting with you though.”

A slow grin tugged at the edges of her lips. “Me too. Especially when I’m stuck in this bed and we can’t make up properly.”

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he leaned in closer. “Don’t tempt me.”

Peals of laughter tumbled from her lips as she angled her head to brush her nose against his. “I don’t suppose a kiss would tide you over, Lieutenant Insatiable?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, darlin’. We’d have to try it out.”

Jake’s lips chased hers as he leaned over her, pushing her back against the flimsy mattress with the force of his kiss. Her tongue traced the seam of his mouth, and she felt a bolt of electricity spark through her body when his mouth stretched into a smile against hers. He linked their fingers together as she deepened the kiss, his free hand coming around to cradle the back of her neck.

“Alright, Miss Floyd, why don’t we go over those test results?”

Jake pulled away as a doctor clad in purple scrubs hustled into the room, her hands rubbing together as the scent of sanitizer wafted over them.

“Hey, doctor. Sorry, we didn’t meet earlier. Lieutenant Jake Seresin,” Jake greeted, his mask sliding back into place as he stretched one arm out to shake her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant. And it’s nice to meet you as well, Miss Floyd. I’m Dr. Friedman and I’ll be taking over your case,” the woman greeted, shaking his hand before turning to fiddle with some equipment. “I hope you don’t mind; we just have a few more tests to run.”

“N-no, that’s fine…” Buttercup shrugged uneasily. “Did something happen to Dr. Scott? I thought he was the one handling my case today?”

“Dr. Scott is just fine. He got called into an all hands on deck situation and, since I was already working with a regular patient of mine down here in the ED, he passed your case off to me since it falls under my specialty. Do you mind lifting your gown for me, dear?”

As the doctor turned, Jake’s keen green eyes darted between three different things. One, the ultrasound wand in the doctor’s hand. Two, the medieval looking metal device she had placed next to his girlfriend on her bed. And three, the neat white stitching on the breast of her scrubs that read Dr. Laurie Friedman, Doctor of Obstetrics and Gynecology.

“Dr. Friedman?” Jake felt his heart sputter, then race in his chest as he squeezed Buttercup’s hand. “You’re a…I mean, your specialty…” He looked down at Buttercup, but she was staring at the white stitching as well.

“Yes, Lieutenant. As I’m sure Dr. Scott told you, Miss Floyd’s blood and urine tests came back positive for hcG, so he called for an OB consult. Since I was already here, I figured I would pop in and run the tests for him while he’s dealing with the overflow of patients we just received. This will be a little cold, dear,” the doctor soothed, draping a paper towel over Buttercup’s underwear before squeezing the gel onto her stomach. “Now, if the blood and urine tests aren’t lying to us, we should…” She moved the wand around, either obtuse to or completely ignoring the look on her patient’s (and the lieutenant’s) face. “There!”

She turned the screen to face the young couple. “Your blood test confirmed the pregnancy, but the high levels of hcG in your blood gave Dr. Scott pause. There’s baby number one…” she pointed to a tiny speck on the screen. “And there…is baby number two.”

The first week of living in the isolation cabin (affectionately known as ‘The Brig’) was absolute misery. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the water in the lake was cool and clear, and Abby and Charlie could appreciate none of it, stuck as they were doing clean up chores in the kitchen. Amelia had been assigned to supervision duty, which was mostly making sure the girls did less arguing and more cleaning.

The nights were even worse, with the girls either ignoring each other or screaming the cabin down with insults and taunts. Amelia had also spent that first week sleeping on the small stoop of the cabin in a hammock, or, at least, trying to sleep between arguments.

The only reprieve the girls got was when they headed down to the dining hall and got to sit with their friends. Breakfast, lunch and dinner found Charlie loudly complaining to her friend, Ryann, about how unfair the whole situation was, while Abby sat with Max, and Isabelle clear across the dining hall, her friends doing their best to remind her to stay strong, that she was only barred from group activities for another week, that they would try to sneak her back into their cabin in a few weeks when Penny and Amelia had cooled off a bit. Amelia spent mealtimes hiding in her mother’s office, downing headache medication, and trying to talk her mother out of whatever plan she had concocted.

The second week found the girls at an uneasy truce. Chores duty was quiet, but all the work got done. Evenings were dead silent, the girls opting to ignore each other instead of arguing.

Both girls were excited to go back to group activities on Monday, only to open the cabin door that morning to find dark clouds covering the sun, booming thunder in the distance, and rain falling in ice cold sheets.

“I suppose group activities will be cancelled today,” Abby muttered as she turned to grab her raincoat.

“You think Penny and Amelia will let us join our cabins for rainy day activities?” Charlie grumbled as she surveyed the mucky landscape. “Hell, I’d be okay doing outdoor activities in this! I thought this was supposed to show us what our family members go through in the military? I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t cancel a war because of a little rain.”

Abby giggled in spite of herself. “If they did that, there would never have been any wars in England. It’s always raining there.”

“Eww. That must suck.”

“It really does.”

The two girls locked eyes for a moment before quickly looking away.

“She’s still stuck up! You don’t want to be friends with her!” Charlie thought to herself, pulling on her own raincoat.

“She’s rude and uncouth. Anyone worth being friends with would never say such horrible things. Or try to get into a physical fight with you!” Abby breathed as she held the door open for a drenched Amelia.

“Sorry girls, but you’re not going down to the dining hall today. It’s all flooded, so all campers will be eating in their cabins,” Amelia explained quickly, handing them bottles of juice and a tray of fruit and sandwiches. “I’ve gotta get back to keep an eye on everyone. Please, please promise me you’ll get along today? I’ll be back later with lunch and dinner, and I really don’t want to have to clean up any bloodshed.”

“We promise…”

“Thank you!”

The door swung shut behind her as Amelia took off up the path back to the main camp.

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna have my breakfast over here while I read,” Charlie murmured, awkwardly making eye contact before shuffling away to her bed on one side of the room.

Abby nodded, taking her own breakfast over to her bed and staring out the window before pulling out her scrap book.

Amelia popped back in a few hours later, carrying more sandwiches for lunch, surprise colouring her features at the lack of arguing and tension between the campers.

“You two are handling this better than some of the other kids,” she commented, placing the tray down. “I’ll be back around six with dinner, okay?”

Without stopping to hear their response, she turned and dashed back out the door, just as a gust of wind blew the door wide open, sending everything that wasn’t pinned down in the room flying.

“Crap!” Charlie slammed her book shut quickly as the pages started to rustle. Abby squealed as the pictures in the collage she was working on were strewn about wildly, dancing in the wind.

“Help me with the door!” Charlie cried, bolting over to the creaking wooden door and trying to heave it shut. Her fingernails scrabbled against the wood as she tried to get a good grip on the handle as the door strained against her grip, pulling her this way and that.

“Hold on, I’ve got you!” Abby seized the door handle and they leaned all their weight against the door, sighing in relief as they finally heard the faint click as it shut.

“Th-thanks…” Charlie panted, her arms trembling slightly.

“No…no problem,” Abby sagged against the wall. “You looked like you almost had it though. You’re pretty strong.”

Charlie shrugged. “I work on my dad’s ranch. Obviously, I can’t do a lot of the dangerous jobs, but even the easy stuff takes a lot of strength.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Abby offered, sinking to the floor against the wall. “Does your mum help on the ranch too?”

Charlie looked away as she sank to the floor across from her, feeling the anger rise and then fall inside of her, her body too tired to let it take hold. “No…she doesn’t. I…I don’t know who my mom is. It’s just me, my dad, and my uncles,” she admitted quietly.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry,” Abby felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “I didn’t know. But…it’s okay! My mum always says that every family looks different, and it doesn’t affect how much they love each other.”

“Easy for her to say,” Charlie muttered, looping her arms around her legs, and resting her head against her knees.

Abby bit back an angry retort. She was so tired of fighting, mentally exhausted from the constant sparring with her new roommate. Maybe her mum had been right and fighting back wasn’t the way to go.

“She started saying that to me when I was five years old or so. At least, that’s when I think I started asking about my dad. I…I don’t know who he is either.”

Charlie lifted her head, looking at the girl in front of her. “You don’t?”

Abby shook her head. “For as long as I can remember, it’s been me, my mom, my aunt, and my uncle. But not, like, married aunt and uncle. He’s my mom’s brother, and my aunt is his best friend.”

“Oh…” Charlie looked down, biting her lip. “I guess that means my comment about mommy and daddy buying you riding lessons really sucked, huh?”

“It did. But I shouldn’t have called you a cornfed hick, either.” Abby flushed. “I don’t know why I said that. My mom and uncle are from Kansas, so it’s not like they’re from anywhere fancy.”

“Kansas? Then why do you sound so…Downton Abbey?”

Abby giggled. “My mum moved to London when I was just a baby. She says it was just for a job, but I think she wanted to get away from my dad too. Every time I ask about him, she gets really anxious and sad, my Uncle Bob gets really angry, and my Aunt Natasha has to distract everyone. Eventually, I just stopped asking. But she did promise to talk about him when I get home, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for answers.”

“My dad does the same thing!” Charlie gasped, moving closer. “I ask about my mom and he gets this really sad look in his eyes, then goes into his office for a few hours! Uncle Roo will eventually go drag him out but then we just pretend I never asked. Uncle Javy acts like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to hurt my dad, so he just tells me that all my questions will be answered when I get older.”

“I hate that!” Abby shot onto her knees. “I’m almost 12! How much older do they expect me to get?”

“Right?” Charlie copied her kneeling stance. “I swear, if I don’t get answers on October 11th, I’m going to scream!”

Abby fell back on her heels, almost as though the door had been wrenched open again and she’d been blown back by a gust of wind. “Y-your birthday is October 11th?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“So is mine!”

Charlie blinked at her. Then she blinked again. Then, a third time. “I…am going to go back to reading my book.”

Abby’s shoulders rose with the force of her sigh. “Charlie, why do you keep avoiding this? We look completely alike, we have the same birthday, you have a dad, and I have a mom! Do you know what that all adds up to?”

“One hell of a coincidence,” Charlie replied huffily, picking up her book and leafing through the pages to find where she left off.

“Charlie, come on! You can’t actually believe that!”

Abby waited for a response, but all she got was Charlie raising her book to eye level in order to block her from view.

“Charlie? Please, you know there’s more to it than that!”

Charlie rolled over to face the other direction and Abby felt the anger bolt through her at ten thousand volts.

“Stop. Ignoring. Me!” she stomped around to the other side of Charlie’s bed and wrenched the book away from her.

“Hey! Give me that!” Charlie jumped out of bed as Abby ran over to her side of the cabin.

“No! Not until we figure this out!”

“Figure what out?” Charlie groaned. “We don’t look that much alike, single parent households aren’t that rare, and there are like a billion people on this planet, so obviously some are going to share a birthday!”

“Oh, come on! It’s way more than that!”

Charlie stomped over towards her and shook her head, her blond braid whipping around her face. “No. It’s not. Now give me back my book or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Abby hopped onto her bed and held the book high in the air.

“I’ll…” Charlie lunged and grabbed Abby’s scrapbook from where it had fallen on the floor. “I’ll hold this hostage until you give it back!”

“No!” Abby gasped. “Please, no! That’s important to me!”

Charlie shrugged. “And my book is important to me. I need something to read, so I guess I’ll just have to make do with this.”

Charlie retreated back onto her side of the cabin and flipped the book open to the first page.

“Fine! Here, take it!” Abby yelled, jumping off the bed and racing over to hand her the book. “Just please, give it back!”

Charlie’s hand shook as she pushed her novel off the scrapbook and onto the bed, her fingers tracing the outline of the figures that were smiling from the picture that decorated the first page.

“Charlie?” Abby asked, half desperate to get her scrapbook back and half confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you have a picture of my uncles in your scrapbook?” she whispered.

“What? That’s a picture of my mum, Auntie Nat, and Uncle Bob,” Abby explained, pointing to each person in turn.

“Not them…” Charlie spoke softly, as though even one decibel too loud would shatter her. “Them.” Charlie pointed at two of the figures on the fringe of the photo. One, a moustachioed man in a pair of aviators, and the other a tall black man with a bright smile and an “I Love Las Vegas” baseball cap covering his cropped black hair. “That’s my Uncle Rooster and my Uncle Javy.”

“What?”

Charlie handed the book back before scrambling to her backpack, digging inside to pull out a folder. “This is my favourite picture of my dad and my uncles. My dad doesn’t know I have it though. I found it when I was fooling around with Uncle Javy, and he gave it to me. He made me promise never to tell my dad that I even knew it existed. I…I think it’s from my dad’s wedding to my mom. Uncle Javy made it seem that way, anyway.”

Charlie opened the folder and pulled out her photo. “That’s my dad, and see? There’s Uncle Roo and Uncle Javy.”

Abby’s shaky finger traced over two other figures who had their arms around each other on the other side of ‘Uncle Roo’. “That’s my Uncle Bob and my Aunt Natasha. Auntie Nat gave me my photo a few years ago when I asked about her about Dagger Squad. But she told me not to tell my mom or my uncle about it. She said that they would be upset.”

“There were taken on the same day,” Charlie murmured, her eyes raking over the photo. “See? The lights in the background, the clothes, the people? They’re all the same.”

“You know what this means, right?” Abby whispered, her finger now tracing over Charlie’s photo, her focus solely on the man in the middle, the man that Charlie had called Dad.

“Abby, it can’t…I don’t…” Charlie swallowed painfully.

“Charlie…I think your dad…was married to my mum.”

A door slamming behind them sent a jolt down both their spines and they spun on the bed to face the intruder.

Amelia set the tray of food down and wiped the water off her face with a sigh. “It’s about time you two figured it out.”

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[in1-nutshell]

Can I request a scenerio where Ophelia and Steve introduce their sparkling to team beem,what would be the reactions of team bee, Knockout and soundwave?

Did a little tweak with this one, but you will still have those reactions!

Hope you enjoy!

Ophelia, Steve and sparklings

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Romance, Cybertronian reader

RiD2015

Things were calm in the scrapyard.

There was a steady incline in Decepticon arrests, and they even had time to relax with the longer breaks.

And as a bonus (mainly for Ophelia) Soundwave, Knockout and Breakdown had called in saying they were going to visit for a bit since they were in the neighborhood.

… So, we need to mess things up.

It had only been a couple of minutes that the Former Cons had arrived when a portal in the sky had opened up dropping two bots.

A small and tall bot had fallen from the now closed portal.

They groaned and immediately started arguing with one another.

Grimlock and Breakdown picked them up and separated them.

Bee asked who they were.

Both bots freeze looking at the team then simultaneously swore.

The small one asked for the two of them to be put down and they would explain.

The small bot waves. Pavo: “I’m Pavo, the big bot here is Andromeda, my sister.” Andromeda: “And we are from the future.” There is silence from the team. Steve: “The future?” Soundwave: “Possible?” Pavo nervously scratches the back of his helm. Pavo: “Long story short, we MIGHT have touched a relic we weren’t supposed to and now we’re here.” Andromeda: “But! Good news is that the relics effects are temporary and we’ll be returning to our time as soon as it wears off.” Bumblebee: “I take it you know some of us?” Pavo: “We know everyone here Uncle Bee.” Bumblebee: “Uncle?!” Andromeda slaps the back of Pavo’s helm. Andromeda: “You’re not supposed to say anything! Did Ratchet and Wheeljack sayings mean anything?” Ophelia: “Ratchet?! He’s okay?” Both siblings groan. Pavo: “This is going to be harder than I thought…”

Pavo as it turned out was more extroverted than his sister.

Often speaking on behalf of both of them.

But as it turns out, he did it because his sister was a bit timid around bots she didn’t know too well.

Pavo made a great impression on Sideswipe, Knockout, Breakdown, the minibots and strangely Strongarm.

Pavo expressed a lot of talent on training, sparing and filing.

The last one through a lot of bots off, but who were they to judge the younger bots’ hobbies.

The minibot looked familiar to the team, but didn’t say anything about it.

Pavo: “And that was the story of how I reign the champion of Hide and Seek for 4 years straight.” Sideswipe: “Bet being a mini defiantly helped with that.” Pavo: “I mean, I defiantly used it to my advantage, but never went too far with it.” Knockout: “Too far?” Pavo: “Yeah, like one time Mom got so mad at Dad for some reason, she hid from him for nearly 4 days straight. She only gave up because he looked like he was going to go through a nervous breakdown on day 5. She would have stayed longer if he didn’t do that.” Strongarm: “Your mom?” Pavo freezes a bit before brushing it off. Pavo: “Yeah, our mom’s the best.” He looks a bit somber. Pavo: “Even when she thinks she’s doing the worst, she’s the best mom we’ve ever had.” Breakdown: “Isn’t she the only mom you know?” Pavo squints his optics at him. Pavo: “You ruined the moment Uncle Breakdown.” Breakdown and Knockout: “Uncle?!” Pavo: “Scrap! Forget I said anything!”

Andromeda was a bit quieter compared to her smaller brother.

It took a while to get her to talk, but once she got used to them, she was almost as talkative as Pavo.

She got along well with Bumblebee, Drift, Grimlock, and Soundwave.

The taller bot showed a lot of interest in archive data slugs and fixing human machines.

Another weird hobby the bots found.

Andromeda: “You know you can call me ‘Meda or Dro is fine. Andromeda is a bit long.” Drift: “Is that what your family calls you?” Andromeda: “Sometimes, Dad and Mom change the nicknames for me and Pav every now and then. But they like using ‘Buddy’ the most.” Soundwave: “Parents.” Bumblebee: “Soundwave she doesn’t need to answer that.” Soundwave: “Parents.” Andromeda: “… I think I hear Pavo calling!” The group looked at the larger bot going to her brother. Grimlock: “I didn’t hear anything.”

The pair were a bit affectionate with Denny and Russel.

They refused to elaborate.

Russel and Denny just went along with it.

Russel got free bot rides and Denny had someone fix some of his stuff.

Win-win!

But there were two bots that the newcomers seemed nervous to be around too much.

Ophelia and Steve.

They nearly avoided them like the plauge and no one knew why.

… correction, one bot had a strong hunch why the young bots were not interacting with Ophelia and Steve.

Ophelia: “Sounds like you two have some great parents to be raising nice bots like yourself.” Pavo: “Yeah, they’re great and all.” Andromeda: “Dad’s a bit overprotective though.” Pavo: “You mean Mom is.” Andromeda: “No, Dad is.” Pavo: “No Mom is.” Andromeda: “Dad!” Pavo: “Mom!” Andromeda: “Dad!” Pavo: “Mom!” Steve whispering to Breakdown: “They were just talking and now their fighting?” Breakdown: “I think the humans have a saying for that.” Russel: “Yeah, siblings.” Ophelia: “Hey how abut we tone it down a bit.” Pavo and Andromeda: “Not now Mom.” Everyone freezes. THUD! Ophelia had fainted. Steve: “Ophelia!” Pavo and Andromeda: “Mom! Dad do something!” Everyone: “Mom?! Dad!?”

After taking the unconscious minibot to the medbay, the pair came clean about who Ophelia and Steve were.

There were all sorts of ranges of surprise and shock.

Most of the Bee team were just surprised by the news and got over it relatively faster than the others.

They had known Ophelia and Steve longer as a couple and didn’t seem so surprising to learn that they would have sparklings in the future.

Knockout and Breakdown, after the initial shock, were ecstatic.

Their little Ophelia had a growing family waiting for her in the future!

Bumblebee and Soundwave where the ones most in shock.

With Bee, he just couldn’t wrap around his helm.

He was still getting used to Steve being his best friend’s Conjunx and now hearing that they would have kids together, it just seemed so… so… he couldn’t find the words.

Soundwave was mainly in shock.

The little sparkling he once knew in his gladiator days.

The little sparkling who was the daughter of his best friend, turned leader.

The little minibot who suffered through the war and at the servos of her own father.

The minibot he had given to the Autobots because he knew another night on the Nemesis would be her last.

The little minibot who help bring peace to the war.

The minibot who had bravely started a small family after years of hurt and tears…

She deserved it.

She deserved whatever life she had with these young bots.

Soon Ophelia came around and Steve filled her in on the details.

Ophelia walks over to the two young bots with Steve. Ophelia: “So… I just heard you two are our… our kids. Is that true?” Pavo and Andromeda nod. Ophelia starts crying a bit, worrying the bots before she opens her arms. Ophelia: “I’m still knew to this whole ‘happy tears and hug thing’ but—Oh!” Pavo and Andromeda and dove right into her arms best they could. Ophelia didn’t care anyone and started crying. Steve joined in the hug lifting most of them off the ground. The hug stops as a familiar looking portal opens up. Pavo: “That’s our cue. See you guys soon!” Andromeda grabs Pavo football style and waves as the minibot starts yelling at her for the sudden scoop. They vanish into the portal, and it disappears. Silence. Soundwave walks to Ophelia. Soundwave: “Soundwave. Proud. Ophelia. Have. Family.” He gently wipes a tear before transforming and leaves the scrapyard. Breakdown: “Guess that’s our cue too. Bye!” Knockout: “I expect a visit soon Ophelia!” Both cars drive off. Russel: “Did you really name one of your kids after a bird?” Ophelia: “Constellations Russel. Constellations.” Grimlock: “Congrats! On the sparklings!” Steve feels like his faceplate is one fire. Steve: “Not now Grim…”