#i have a feeling its going to be another... cups a hand to my mouth and whispers... /slow day.../...

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Boys in Bars - Part 2

Hi Babes! :D Me again....you guys absolutely blew up the first part of this which I wasn't expecting so like thank you?? 😭😭😭

As I mentioned before never say never….this one’s a love I’ve had for…20 odd years and comes clad in yellow spandex….

Another one that was meant to live in the WIP and has taken on a life of its own...

I've had some wicked writer's block but my @ken-dom has still been mad encouraging and I love her dearly for it. Without her none of these would exist much like everything I’ve written over the last year and a half.

As always, this NSFW 18+

We've got plans this man and I

Y'all should know by now I rarely post one shots…..so yeah, this will be multiple parts….I’m just not sure on the final tally yet.

Enjoy my loves! <3

You locked the door with a sigh, turning off the open sign. You turned on your heel, making your way back to where Logan sat, leaned back against the bar, watching. 

“What?” You asked, slowing your steps 

“C’mere” he jerked his head and you shook yours. 

“N-no” you spoke quietly 

You had spent a majority of your shift mercilessly teasing him and now the bar was closed and it was just the two of you…and you had a sickening sense of deja vu.

“Why not?” He mused, getting to his feet. He hadn't drank as much as he usually does and you were starting to understand why. 

“I don't want to” you pressed your lips together before dropping your gaze. 

You could sense him moving closer, the heavy footfalls of his work boots. You swallowed hard as his feet appeared in front of yours. 

He was quiet, you were both quiet, and unmoving. 

His hand reached to grip your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him. 

You swallowed hard a second time as he started to walk you backwards. 

You gasped as your back hit the wall and he didn't stop, closing the distance between you. 

Your heart hammered in your chest when he stopped, lips mere millimeters from yours. 

Fingers flexed against your jaw and you let out a shaky breath, struggling to find your voice. 

“What’s the matter?” 

You shook your head as much as his grip would allow. “N-nothing”

He simply hummed, the hand holding your face, moving to run a finger over your cheek; your face instantly flushed a deep red. The gentleness of his touch putting you on edge.

“You think you can spend the night taunting me?” He asked, his voice low, even, and calculated. “Teasing me?”

You watched as he dropped his hand, a single claw slowly appearing from between his knuckles.

“Logan-” you whispered, voice barely audible; the memory coming screaming back and you fought the urge not to go rigid. 

“I'm waiting” he said sternly, his exposed claw dragging along the thin fabric of your t-shirt as he slowly dragged it down the centre, but not enough pressure to peirce fabric…not yet.

Another hard swallow and you shook your head; your eyes fixed on the single blade as it came to rest between your cleavage, Logan having dragged it back up the middle.

He retracted it back under his skin without a word, but didn’t move. He was still close…too close, crowding your space, doing it on purpose; knowing you could feel the heat radiating off his body. He moved to cup your cheek in his hand, instinctively you leaned into his touch, your eyes slipping closed as you felt your knees falter. Finding it very difficult to take a full breath.

“Log-” you started again, cut off mid breath by a bruising, demanding kiss. 

You let yourself be pinned against the wall, thankful for something sturdy as his lips moved against yours; taking a deep breath in through your nose, and in spite of yourself, you couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped from between your mouths as you felt his hand push under your hair at the back of your neck; his fingers tangling in the strands. 

He pressed against you, his free hand finding your hip, squeezing hard. 

You whined against his mouth and he seized the opportunity, slipping his tongue between your lips with a moan himself. 

Your head was spinning, if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought you were drunk. 

He tasted just like you remembered; whiskey and stale cigars. Something on any other night you would be repulsed by, but not with Logan…never with Logan…ever.

Finally, you got a grip on yourself, pushing him back gently; very aware of one hand on the nape of your neck, the other tucked up under your t-shirt. His shoulders were warm under your hands as you caught your breath and attempted to focus. 

“We can’t-” you breathed 

“Sure we can,” he countered, his breathing just as heavy and laboured as yours before his lips crashed against yours a second time. 

Your mouth moved against his briefly before you pried your lips from his, reluctantly, taking a much needed breath. Logan simply moved his assault to your exposed neck, his warm, wet tongue gliding over your overheated skin before his teeth sank into the sensitive flesh; making your knees buckle as you gasped against his ear, his strong arm sliding around your back to keep you upright. 

“Fuck, Logan” you whimpered as he sucked hard on your now marked flesh. 

He hummed against your neck with approval, fingers on both his hands curling against your skin. 

Your own teeth sank into your bottom lip as you fought to keep your composure. 

“Not here” you whispered, finally releasing your lip 

He laughed light and breathy against the shell of your ear, making your shiver “Yes, here” he whispered against the shell of your ear “You think you’re going to tease me all night like that and I’m not going to fuck you on every flat surface in this place?” 

His emphasis on the word ‘fuck’ sent goosebumps over your skin and your breath caught in your throat. 

“That’s a lot of surfaces” you whimpered feeling his fingers toy with the waistband of your skirt 

“And once we’re done down here,” he continued, his teeth scraping against your earlobe. “I’m going to take you upstairs, and fuck you on every flat surface up there too” 

Your heart slammed against your ribcage as you attempted to squeeze your thighs together; unsuccessfully as the hand on your hip shot like a flash between your legs, keeping them spread apart. 

“Ah ah” he chuckled lightly, his eyes finally meeting yours 

You knew you were flushed, and you knew he could smell the fear emanating from you; but you also knew he could smell the arousal too 

“Logan…” you warned, trying your damnedest to sound intimidating and failing miserably. 

He stepped back, dropping both his hands to his sides; his eyes raking over your form. 

“One,” he counted and you cocked your head slightly as he smirked 

“Two…” he continued 

You stepped out of your black pumps, dropping your height a good three inches, with a smirk of your own before you tore around him toward the back of the bar, toward the kitchen as he continued counting over your shoulder. 

Five seconds, if he was feeling generous…three if he wasn’t….

This was all part of the little game you had found yourself a part of; one you had suggested initially, on a drunken night that seemed like it was ages ago. Count to ten you had told him, ten seconds head start and if he had found you, he would be rewarded. 

Now, instead of ten seconds, you got five….and he hunted. 

Immediately through the door, you dropped out of sight and maneuvered your way around the dark kitchen. Within seconds, the same door you had come through, swung open a second time; Logan’s form looming in the darkness. You quieted your breathing as you watched his eyes scan the dark room. He stepped forward, boots landing heavily as he did, making the floor verberate under your now bare feet. 

Your heart beat hard in your ears as you slipped around one of the small tables, keeping him in sight, his back to you, but you still moved slow and quiet; for every step he took deeper into the kitchen you took back toward the way you had come. 

He had expected you to hide, he always expected you to hide. 

Your eyes adjusted slowly, making it easier to see, but you knew if it was becoming easier for you, it was becoming easier for him too. 

“I can smell you” he declared to the silent room 

You pressed your lips together, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to ignore the throbbing ache between your thighs. His promises echoing in the back of your mind.

Every. Flat. Surface. 

You watched as he moved toward the very back of the kitchen, and you quickly got to your feet and tip toed as swiftly as  you could manage, back through the double doors. Logan’s footfalls were heavy behind you for a fraction of a second before they went silent again, but he hadn’t followed you out. 

You clocked the narrow staircase a few feet away from your place behind the bar. Your apartment was your goal, if you made it there, you won.  He was still in the kitchen if you moved fast you could- You gasped quietly, dropping to the floor as the doors swung gently.  Now he stood between you and your exit. 

The bar was darker than usual, you wondered if there was no moon out tonight as you crouched, silently making your way around the front of the bar, stopping before giving yourself away. 

He clicked his tongue with disapproval and you stayed rooted to your spot…hoping he would go the way you’d come. 

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard the unmistakable scrape of metal on wood. He was slowly making his way to the other end of the bar, dragging his claws as he went. You had a clear path from where you crouched to the stairs, all you had to do was outrun him. 

You stood to your full height and ran for the stairs as if your life depended on it. 

Your foot just missed the bottom step before a strong arm wrapped around your middle, a hand collapsing over your mouth as he snarled “I win”  in your ear, dragging you back toward the bar. 

He turned you to face him, both hands gripping your hips none too gently as he pushed you back against the wall, making the liquor bottles on the nearby shelf rattle dangerously. His mouth claiming yours for a fraction of a second before he yanked your t-shirt over your head, dropping it at your feet. 

You had given up trying to protest, throwing your arms around his neck as he lifted you off your feet, guiding your legs around his waist. 

You practically melted into the wall, letting his weight support you fully as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth. 

Your fingers pushed through the thick strands of dark hair at the back of his head as you moaned shamelessly against his mouth. 

His hips rolling forward, intentionally grinding the bulge hidden under his jeans against your core. 

You arched your back as much as he would allow, head hitting plaster as you threw your head back with a cry towards the ceiling. 

Logan growled with approval as his teeth scraped over the length of your throat, rolling his hips a second time, this time slower, more deliberate. 

“Fuck,” you grit your teeth “L-Logan”

His breath was hot and heavy against your ear as he chuckled lightly “Don't worry, I plan too” 

In spite of yourself, a whimper tumbled from your lips. 

“But,” he leaned back slightly, pulling your legs free of his midsection, hand still firmly on your hip. “Not right now”

You blinked, processing his words as he leaned back slightly. 

“W-what?”

“You heard me” he smirked, his free hand disappearing up under your skirt, his calloused fingers teasing the inside of your thigh. 

You jumped slightly with a gasp as they were replaced by metal, cold against your skin before it disappeared, his fingertips ghosting over the fabric of your panties. “Not right now” He repeated, his voice cool and even. 

As fast as it had appeared, his hand dropped from between your legs, but not before his middle finger pushed firmly against that throbbing bundle of nerves and he turned on his heel, leaving you leaning against the wall to collect yourself. 

“LOGAN!’ You nearly shrieked and he stopped mid-stride halfway between you and the front door, but he kept his back to you. 

“What?” His deep voice amused at your obvious frustration. “Something wrong?” He taunted, echoing your own words back at you. 

You clenched your teeth together, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek as he stood stationary. 

“I can't stay,” he said simply “I've got things to do…”

You glared at the back of his head “It's two o'clock in the morning, what the fuck could you possibly have to do?!”

“Not fucking you seems to be at the top of that list” he mused, turning back to face you. “Seems to be the thing that would piss you off the most” 

You took a sharp breath in through your nose and he laughed again. 

“Unclench your jaw babe, it's not a good look” 

“You're not doing this to best me” you finally spoke, but keeping your voice quiet. 

“Oh no?” He cocked an eyebrow curiously 

You shook your head 

“Then why am I doing it?” He asked, arms folding over his broad chest 

“Because you're scared,” you challenged, finally moving away from the wall and moving toward him slowly as you continued “You've got some deep seated fucked up trauma that you don't talk about because God forbid you let someone in”

His eyes narrowed as you came to a stop, a few feet from where he stood. “Stop”

“Did I hit a nerve?” You cocked your head slightly, still aware you were in nothing but your skirt and a bra. “Or a memory?” you whispered

“Don't” he snapped, the warning clear in his voice, but still you pushed 

“Ooh, the dark brooding angry side, like I haven't seen that before. You rolled your eyes. “Come on Logan,” you laughed “You and I both know you're a walking fucking disaster, the screaming nightmares night after night, your drinking problem….other problems”

As you continued, he clenched his hands into fists and you could see the flash of his white teeth in the darkness, the tips of his claws glinting in the moonlight. 

Despite your heart slamming in your chest, you somehow managed to keep your voice even. 

“Don't even get me started on those” you bit, glancing briefly at his hands. “All they do is cause damage….” You intentionally scratched at your scar. 

Logan snapped, claws out, teeth bared, he lunged at you in the darkness. 

Before you could blink, wondering if maybe you'd taken it too far, you found yourself on top of the bar on your back, Logan's weight pinning you there as he loomed over you, nose to nose, claws of his right hand buried as deep as he could get them into the bartop. 

He was breathing hard, jaw clenched tight.  

You jumped slightly as he wrenched his hand free of the polished wood; his eyes fixed on yours. You didn't dare move, not that you could if you had wanted to. 

“Not. Another. Fucking. Word.” He snarled, his breath warm against your already flushed cheeks. 

You managed a half nod before he crushed his mouth against yours, his teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip, making you cry out against his mouth. 

This time there was zero hesitation as he broke your kiss, a quick flash of silver metal rendering your bra completely useless as it fell to pieces. 

Your skirt was the next casualty, his claws running right down the centre, cutting it to useless ribbons of fabric. 

He locked eyes with you, claws retracted as he tossed his shirt into the darkness and worked open his belt, pushing his jeans off his hips, his fingers curled around the waistband of your underwear and you smirked when you noticed he wasn't wearing any of his own. 

You bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips. 

You were breathing hard, but you couldn't will yourself to stop, heart still racing as warm hands pushed your knees apart, Logan moving himself closer. 

“What, no foreplay?” You breathed 

Logan scoffed, his hands finding your hips. “As if you need it” 

He yanked you forward roughly, off the edge of the bar and you gasped, an arm instinctively wrapping around his neck as you caught yourself on his shoulder with the other hand. 

His hands holding firmly under your thighs, supporting the entirety of your weight with ease as your legs found their way back around his waist. 

Neither of you spoke, your breathing was shaky and ragged; his was slow and even. 

His fingers flexed against your thigh, sending a shockwave of electricity straight to your core. 

You gasped, breathing hard enough that your chest brushed against his every time you inhaled. 

“Scared?” He smirked, still painfully close and doing nothing about it, despite the press of his arousal against the inside of your thigh. 

You shook your head slowly, knowing full well if he couldn't feel your heart slamming against your ribs, he could likely smell it on you. 

As if to prove your point, his nose slid slowly along your cheek as he leaned forward, taking a deep breath as his lips pressed against your ear, his weight pushing you back against the edge of the bar. 

Your eyes fluttered closed as his breath tickled your neck. 

“Liar” he whispered, his voice thick with arousal. You whimpered, leaning harder against his chest as his teeth pulled on your earlobe, at the same time his hips thrusting forward, burying himself to the hilt in one swift movement. 

You cried out, arching against him, your nails biting into his bare shoulder. 

Without so much as a second breath he thrust again, using the bar at your back to his advantage, his hands moving to your hips. The bruising ache of his gripping fingers, buried deep in your flesh. The familiar sting of metal biting flesh right above his fingers as you rocked against him, shamelessly moaning against his neck. 

You bent your head just enough to run your tongue over the hollow of his collarbone, a needy moan against your neck sending shivers through your entire body. 

You lifted your head only to be met by a demanding, possessive kiss. Rough and sloppy as one of his hands found its way into your hair. His tongue tangling with yours as your own fingers twisted in his thick, dark locks, pulling hard, a feral growl escaping from deep in his chest as you squeezed your legs harder around his waist as he fucked you harder. 

He pulled his mouth from yours and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. Both of you breathing hard, your lungs burning from the effort of it. 

“Logan I-” you managed before a desperate moan tumbled from your lips “Oh, God” Your nails moving to drag down the expanse of his bare back. 

You threw your head back, feeling his arms wrap around your frame, crushing you against his chest as your orgasm rocked your body, your fingernails buried deep in the flesh of his back, his animalistic roar echoing around the empty bar before he collapsed against you. 

You could feel the raised welts your nails had left in their wake down his back slowly starting to heal themselves as he eased his hold on you, 

Your breath caught in your throat slightly as he slid from inside you, leaving you feeling empty…wanting to be full. 

He let your legs slip from around his waist with a sigh, both of you panting hard. 

You opened your mouth to speak, your eyes searching his face and he shook his head almost like he had read your mind. 

“Logan…” 

“Not another word” he smirked

“But I-” 

Before you could protest further, he took your face in both hands and kissed you deeply; your feet leaving the floor as he hoisted you into his arms. You pulled back with a giggle as his beard scratched against your cheek and he kissed a path along your jaw.

“I can walk” you quipped, your arms finding their way around his neck as you leaned against his shoulder. 

“Not once I get through with you” he breathed against the shell of your ear. 

You whimpered and he laughed, smirking against your skin; the ghost of his breath sending a shiver down the length of your spine as he carried you up the stairs towards your apartment.

[hearmeoutgirl]

Hey, guys! I hope you're doing well.... I thought of a new plot and wanted to write it! Enjoy reading!

(note: please write your suggestions, my brain has trouble producing them)

[Side note: English is not my native language, please forgive me if I make any mistakes🙏]

Subject: You See Your Ex At A Party

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was an ordinary night. You were looking out at the sea while the warm wind blew through your hair.

You were clearly overwhelmed. While the party inside was going on with all its might, you were leaning on the railings on the balcony, looking out. A few meters away, a few young people were kissing, more were having sex, they seemed to be having fun. You were startled when your phone vibrated in your pocket. You put the red paper cup in your hand aside and looked at your phone.

When your friend sent you messages one after another about finding her, you realized that she was drunk and that the possibility of you getting into trouble had increased. You had come to this party upon her request. "Lighten up a bit, Yn... Enough with this depressed-girl vibe," she had said to you when she came to invite you to the party.

You and your friend knew the reason why you were a depressed girl, as your friend called.

Damn Cameron....

You tucked your phone into your pocket and headed inside. You put the paper cup in your hand aside and entered the party. The noise around you made you wince, while the intense smell of alcohol and drugs made your stomach turn.

Damn Cameron. Yeah, damn.

Your gaze began to search for your friend under the high light. A lot of human bodies were touching yours, you could feel their alcoholic breath on your neck. You had better find your friend before you throw up. Your phone vibrated once more in your pocket and you saw that it said your friend was in one of the bathrooms upstairs. You headed for the stairs to go upstairs.

You grunted as you were looking at your phone when a body collided with you hard. It had to be a Pogue. You rolled your eyes at him as he looked at you and started walking up the stairs.

But it didn't take long. Right after I stepped on the first step, a body appeared at the top of the stairs. He was wearing one of his black polos. Black pants underneath. You thought he'd be a little depressed for a party, until you realized you were also wearing black shorts and a black crop top.

Damn Cameron.

When your gazes met, you looked into his blue eyes for a second. They were staring deeply. As if they were trying to see something. You looked away as you swallowed slowly. You always did that.

(back to the past)

You were giggling. You were giggling in the middle of the night in the arms of the man you loved. Even though it felt like a dream, it was real.

"Rafey...." you spoke between laughter. "Stop now..."

Rafe smiled without taking his lips from your neck, his hands touching your bare waist under your shirt. "No... I love your smile..." He looked up into your eyes and kissed your chin.

Your cheeks flushed slightly as your hands ran through his freshly cut hair. You smiled, but avoided his gaze. You always did this...

(now)

After staring at each other for what felt like more than a few minutes, you took a deep breath. When your phone vibrated once more, you remembered once again why you were here. For your friend.

Damn Cameron.

After looking at your phone, you quickly started climbing the stairs. Rafe was watching you with cold eyes. You felt like you were going to fall with every stair you climbed without looking at him. Rafe was looking at you with his arms folded across his chest. Since he was upstairs, he either went to the balcony upstairs to smoke or...

or to be inside a woman. And you hate this thought.

Rafe's large hand grabbed your bare arm as you passed him on the stairs. Before you could even open your mouth, he pulled you into a nearby room. Your eyebrows furrowed as the door slammed shut behind you and locked itself. "Rafe what are you doing?" You grew up but you couldn't see him. You couldn't really see. The lights were off. "Turn on the light." He knew he hated the dark.

You felt a sarcastic laugh coming from your throat. All the windows in the room were closed. There was no light coming from the yellow room either. You felt Rafe’s breath on your face as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Still scared of the dark, little girl?”

You paused. The sarcasm in his voice broke your heart. You averted your eyes. You really did this a lot. “Turn on the damn lights, Cameron.”

You felt a hand brush your hair behind your shoulders. There was no doubt who it was. Large hands were touching your hair with a familiar ease. "You must learn the darkness, little girl." The coldness in his voice frightened you. You didn't like it.

Although, judging by what he did after you left, it was true that he had turned into a complete psychopath. It didn't make sense that this man who had killed a police officer would touch your hair so gently.

"What do you want from me, Rafe? Leave me alone. I need to go to my friend..." you spoke nervously. You wanted to go to your friend.

And another mocking laugh... "Your friend? Oh little girl... you still don't get it, do you?"

You paused... what didn't you understand?

"Let me enlighten your tiny mind... I convinced your friend to bring you here tonight. The same thing about going upstairs... Because I wanted... I wanted you with me."

When his hands found your cheeks, your eyebrows furrowed, trying to see his face. "You... you're talking nonsense."

It probably wasn't true. Rafe couldn't have been that crazy.... Right?

"Yn... you don't understand... look at me..." you grumbled as his hand lifted your chin up.

"I'll see if I can... but there's no light." Rafe sighed in exasperation and turned on the light. His hands found your cheeks once more as you squinted at him.

“Now? Is there anything else wrong?” When you stayed silent, he sighed once more and looked at you. “I know I’m not perfect… but you know that we’re both ugly in our own right, but beautiful and perfect together.”

"Rafe...." just as you were about to object to him, a pair of lips touched yours.

When you got over your initial surprise, you moaned quietly and wrapped your arms around his neck. You couldn't stand it. You couldn't stand his absence. When you opened your lips for him, he happily stuck his tongue in and kissed you. His mouth looked like a crime scene. And even if you were guilty, he was a witness.

"You're mine, little girl... you've always been mine..."

This wasn’t right. It shouldn’t have happened. You shouldn’t have given in to him as his lips moved from your jaw to your neck. Be proud girl, be proud!

"Rafe.. stop! No... that's not true..." you placed your hands on rafe’s muscular chest, trying to push him away. But you failed. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around the back of your thighs and lifted you onto his lap. “Rafe… stop!”

But Rafe didn’t hear you. He was sucking on your neck like a hungry animal as he laid you down on the first bed he found in the dark room. His hands were everywhere. They wouldn’t stop. Your hands grabbed his thick biceps and tried to stop him. You wanted to do this right. Not like this . . .

“Rafe, stop!” Rafe paused as your voice grew louder. His face was buried in your neck. He looked up at you as he took a deep breath. You couldn’t see his face. And as if he sensed it, he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on.

"What?" his voice was muffled by the kisses he had just left on her neck. "You're mine, Yn... you know that, don't you?" his hand roamed her body. He slid between her legs and cupped her pussy over her shorts. "This beauty is mine too... this body... all of it..."

Your eyes looked into his blue ones. You pushed him off you as you sighed and leaned your back against the headboard. Rafe growled in annoyance and stood up. You saw the anger in his body grow and his body pace around the room in anger. “What the fuck do you want, Yn? Huh? Not enough of this whore stuff? What the fuck do you want.”

You swallowed slowly and looked away as Rafe rolled over and kicked the seat next to you, cursing. “Benj, you’re driving me crazy! You’re driving me crazy!” You pulled your knees up as you sighed in fear. You flinched when Rafe angrily punched the wall.

"Rafe..."

"What did you want that I didn't do, Yn?" There was pain and anger in his eyes when he turned to you with his bleeding hand. "Huh? I became a good man... just for you! I fucked the fucking drugs! For you! Fuck! I stood up to my father for you!" You looked at the blood dripping from his hand to the ground. Every word he said was driving the dagger into his heart even deeper. "I left everyone behind and came to you... I came here, Yn... for you! Fuck I disregarded my pride for you!"

You stayed silent as tears streamed down your face. Rafe continued to pace the room angrily. He continued to mutter as his hand rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation. “What happened to us? What happened, huh?”

You sighed but couldn’t answer. The reason you left was simple. You didn’t want to stay in a toxic relationship. Add Rafe’s constant tantrums and jealousy to that… you couldn’t take it. But now that it dawned on you, you stayed silent. Every word of what he said was true. He had broken things off with his father, for you… His friends made fun of him for still wanting you, but Rafe was still there for you. This man didn’t know what else to do…

Rafe paused for a moment as he paced the room and looked at you. “Anyone else… is there anyone else?” Your gaze shifted from the hardwood floor to his. You frowned at him as you sat there with your knees drawn up. “There is, isn’t there?” Rafe took a step towards you, his hands shaking with anger. You swallowed hard. “Who is it? Huh? What bastard?”

You shook your head quickly. But Rafe didn’t even see it. “N-no… no…”

"Which pimp touched you, huh? Which one fucked you like I did? Answer!" When he took another step towards you, your eyes widened quickly and you shook your head.

“Rafe no… there’s no one… I swear there’s no one… it didn’t happen…” Rafe calmed down a bit when he saw the fear in your eyes. But the anger was still palpable.

"and it will never, ever happen. do you hear me? I won't let you..." When you shook your head, he sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. His back was turned to you. He leaned his elbows on his knees as his shoulders slumped tiredly. "I can't let you, Yn... I can't let you slip through my hands... not again..."

Not again... oh... his mom. Not again...

You looked at his back, biting your lower lip. "There's no one left. There's no one left, Yn..." You hesitantly approach him. A hand touches his tense shoulder. His anger is still in his body, but he leans into your touch involuntarily.

He sighed nervously as you wrapped your thin arms around his shoulders, leaning your cheek against his broad back. “Still going on? I mean… your nightmares?”

He swallowed hard. He sighed as you nuzzled your cheek against his broad back, looking at the wall in front of him as your arms wrapped around his shoulders and touched the tiny stubble on his chin. “Sometimes. I can’t sleep at night.”

You knew why. It was you.

(Back to past)

"Looks like someone's late again..." Rafe was sipping his beer on the couch as he looked at your body entering the living room. It was one of those winter months. And you went to help your close friend because she had just given birth. Of course, you didn't know that this help would last until midnight...

You took off your jacket and bag, setting them aside and walked over to the fireplace, feeling your cold hands. “Looks like someone’s still not asleep…” you mumbled quietly. The house was silent except for the low sounds of Rafe’s boxing match and the crackling of the wood burning in the fireplace.

Rafe finished his beer, set it aside, and reached for the remote, turning off the screen. He lifted his large body off the couch and walked behind you. A pair of arms wrapped around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. When he surrounded you from behind, he took your hands, which were tiny compared to his, in his own and heard them. "You know I didn't..." his face rested on your neck. "It's so hard without you, baby..."

You smiled and leaned your back against his chest. You chuckled quietly when you felt the coldness of his rings in your hands. “I wonder what you’re going to do while I’m gone…”

Rafe sighed. His arms tightened around your waist as his lips kissed the line of your jaw. “I’ll always have you in my arms.” You smiled. That was what you wanted too. I

t wasn't certain whether you would go to heaven or not, but being able to taste heaven between these two pairs of arms was enough for you.

(Now)

I felt your back tense up against his cheek, and you remained silent.

“This is so shit, Yn.” He sighed and leaned back against you. You let him as your legs spread out to the sides. You accepted him. Like always. You slid back into bed and spread your arms, leaning your head on the pillows.

"Come here...." you mumbled quietly. His cold gaze softened as it met yours over your shoulder. Your big man couldn't bear you. He glanced at the door before approaching you. After he realized it was locked and no one could disturb you, he approached you. He got between your legs. His arms wrapped around your waist as his face leaned against the hollow of your chest.

“I hate you…” Rafe sighed in relief as you wrapped your arms around him, your hands tucked into his shirt, arching his back.

"At least you can feel something..." He grinned slightly and his eyes slowly closed. It was obvious that he was sleep deprived.

You sighed and stroked the hair on the back of his neck. “Topper said you’ve been on drugs for the last few nights.” There was disappointment in his voice. He promised you.

Rafe shrugged nonchalantly. He wrapped his arms around you tighter, leaning his face against the spot between your neck and chest that your shirt left exposed. He pulled your shirt down. “It’s the only thing that helps me sleep.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for the blanket next to you as Rafe finally rested his face comfortably against your skin, covering you with it. His huge body was already warming you. “You promised... you wouldn’t drink...”

Rafe said sarcastically. "You promised... you wouldn't go..." This situation caused you to remain silent. You leaned your lips against his hair as you sighed deeply.

"Rafe Cameron... I love you..." The issue between you was still unresolved but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your lips.

Rafe kissed her skin as he grinned against hers. "I'm dying for you, Yn. I feel like I'm living for you..." he mumbled before falling asleep. "Your smell... my home."

Hey guys! I hope you liked it! I don't know exactly how I feel while writing this chapter but I get a lot of Taylor Swift You're Losing Me vibes... even though they end up together...

Your suggestions are very important to me! Please don't forget to comment!

[wispwatched]

Here's another one of these! Give this post a like and I'll send you 1 to 3 memes. You don't have to specify a muse for my end, but if you're also a multi then please do specify a couple of your own that you'd like to interact with !

[pixiesholloworld]

put 'em on the glass .ᐟ

╰┈➤ synopsis: me putting my your fav jjk men in car shmex scenarios

cw: f!reader established relationships w/ sukuna, geto, nanami,, fwb!gojo, hook up w/ toji, fear play? w/nanami agoraphilia (obviously), slight exhibitionism? fingering, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving), riding, pet names (like baby, honey, sugar), degradation (toji calls you a whore/brat/bitch/slut), high sex w/toji, spanking, missionary, backsh!ts, the whole 9 yards. [✿] is meant to be y/n

a/n: idk how much im gonna clean this up or proofread it but i hope you guys like

sukuna - [attachment 5 images] you'd never seen someone drive so fast before in your life, you watched as the little blip on your phone struggles to keep up with sukuna’s actual speed, updating only every few seconds until you see that he's around the corner. you put on the last few sprits of perfume and run outside to greet him, he quickly pushes the door open for you so you can hop in and before you can even get in good

"think its fun to tease me all day, huh? sending pictures of you bent over like that.." his voice, rough and consumed with desire. you felt all giddy after having successfully worked him up sending him picture after picture, of you in the skirt he bought you not too long ago— teasing him, you could feel your cunt begging to be relieved from this aching feeling, excitement smearing your thighs as he pulls into an empty parking garage.

you watch as his big veiny hands turn the wheel with finesse until he stops perfectly into a parking spot on the 3rd floor, the floor baren, the lights dim and flicker above the car as he reclines your seat and positions himself over you, "fuuck this," he seethes, "i'm not waitin' another minute to touch you". your hands reach over his shoulders and bring him in for a sultry kiss, you feel his breath shake as his lips press into yours again and again.

his hands wonder over your body, cupping your cheeks, and slowly moving down to unzip your jacket, knowing nothing lies under there but your hardened nipples. you feel his index and thumb squeeze and pull at them, beckoning small whimpers to leave your lips between kisses. you feel his lips curl against yours

"mmm, i like the sound of that" he moves one of his hands down to your legs, lightly grazing your thigh and following the heat to your puffed folds. the feeling sends a rush of electricity through your veins as his fingertips kiss at your folds and spread them, smearing the slick all over, "no panties?"

his thumb finds your soddened bulb and pushes against it slightly, you feel that same ticklish feeling start around your thighs and stomach, your brows furrow as your sweet moans fill his mouth. he moves his other hand from your nipple to your neck and squeezes slightly hearing how your voice cracks at the sudden pressure.

his finger moves at a quicker pace and you find it harder to keep up with his mouth but eventually you give up, letting him move his lips all over your face, your hips rhythmically jitter against his thumb. his hand grows tighter around your neck as your moans become louder

"k-kuna" you croak out, "more, kuna", your hands reach down to his and you guide two of his fingers inside. he lets you and releases his hand from around your neck, placing it beside your head, his thrusts are slow at first, watching as your body becomes more undone to his touch.

his lips slowly trail from the corner of your mouth, kissing at your jaw and slowly going down until he reaches your neck, his sharp teeth graze your neck as he leaves wet open kisses that turn into bites, biting you lovingly of course. he feels you clutching around his digits and thrusts faster feeling you lose yourself all over him

"kunaaa" you whine, fingers wildly massaging his tufts of hair, your body felt so heavy, you knew it was impossible but you felt like his fingers were so deep, feeling how they dove in and out so steadily, his palm kiss up against your clit every so often. it all gave you a feeling that was just a step up higher than euphoria

you could barley say anything other than his name when he started to sneak his lips over to your ear, kissing and licking all over it like a starved animal, shushing you while moving one of his hands over your mouth

he wanted this feeling to last as much as you did, but that single action ended it all, you two were so lucky that it was so far into the night that no one could possibly hear you.. at least no one outside the parking lot

even with all the windows rolled up and his hand over your mouth sukuna was sure your screams could be heard. "such a loud mouthed brat" he teases, removing his hand from both your mouth and weeping cunt, he instead forces his cream coated digits into your mouth so you can clean it off

"sorry" you muffle out, as your tongue languidly rolls between his thick fingers. your half lidded eyes stare into his deep crimsons as if you were trying to telepathically tell him what you wanted, feeling his length grow on your thigh

he looks at you with a fiendish grin and starts unbuckling his belt

gojo - rear service

you had no idea where your taste in men came from

as the oldest sibling it was only natural for you to be drawn to only children or younger siblings

and for some reason you chose to be fwb with the most annoying one you could find, though you suppose he was annoying in a charming way

when saturo invited you out you thought you’d be getting your pussy ate, not sitting in the middle of the beach parking lot watching all of the digimon movies in order. counting grains of sand could be more interesting than this shit

but at least he made it comfortable for you, you were in his custom made baby blue tesla, the 2 front seats were put all the way down and you were huddled up next to him under a blanket as the screen played in front of the both of you

you tried to stay focused, so so so hard, but the longer the movie went on the more you felt like leaving, it didn't make it any better that every few minutes he'd drop a fun fact about one of the characters, like you really gave a fuck

something needed to give and fast, you slyly move your hand over to his stomach and casually start toying with his pajama pant drawstring, thinking you were doing it so sneakily too, playing it off as an attempt to caress his smooth skin

but then all so abruptly you feel his hand run over yours and glide it into his pants and boy was he hard. feeling him take control so suddenly when you thought he was distracted caught you by surprise

"god, i was saving the fun part for later" he moves your hand down further so your grasping it now, "is the movie really that boring?"

you flash a smile at him, holding his length and slowly stroking it, "yeah, reallly fucking boring" you pull it out from his boxers and move your lips to meet with his. while kissing was cool and all you felt yourself growing more impatient by the minute

you find yourself moving lower on the seat, letting him hover right over you. you could feel the beads of pre drip onto your clothes, his breathing becoming more shallow as his wet, pink, lips force your mouth open to let his tongue in

he's rutting into your hand at this point, whenever he gets like this he starts whining and rambling, "sorry f'borin' you to death, let me make it up to you, yeah? come on, pretty" he starts pawing at your shorts, smiling against your swollen, spit colored lips,"let me eat it for you, or better yet let me fuck you, yeahh, could fuck you real good night now"

maybe this was why you happened to get with men that were an only child, always so eager to please, or maybe it was just him, either way you weren't complaining. gojo loved when you took control, so when you told him if he wanted the privilege of fucking you again he needed to prove he deserved it first, he did exactly that

it was such a pretty sight to see, his white locs of hair draping over your sprawled out legs feeling how hungrily he lapped up your juices. his tongue running swirls around your hardened bulb, sending shocks throughout your body, you could feel him nibbling and sucking on your clit all in an effort to hear your sweet sweet moans

“mmm, just like that ‘toru” you could tell he was losing himself in your taste, your scent, your moans, the feeling of your thighs threating to squeeze his head open if he kept going at this pace, he didn't care though he'd just pry them open again like he always does

he looks up at you so innocently too, knowing something vile is going on inside of that head of his. he didn't have to say it but you knew that would be your last time trying to stop him from getting what he wanted, feeling how his sinewy arms held your legs down while gripping the fat of your thigh, groaning into your cunt like he was the one being eaten out

the nerves in your stomach built up, and up, and up, not only from how his tongue quickly lapped at your folds but there was an added thrill doing this outside on public property… fact that you two could get caught at any moment added to the pleasure

your hand reached for his head trying to pull him in deeper, saturo loved getting his hair pulled and usually welcomed your gentle tugs but this time he took your hand away from his head and held onto it, looking you deep in the eyes as the hardened tip of his tongue bullied your clit

your body felt so limp and your legs shook like crazy at every movement he made begging to close up just to suppress your climax. you squeezed his hand, trying to keep yourself grounded as he groaned into your clit, licking and sucking at it until you were drowning in pleasure, your breaths becoming more exasperated

“ah, i-i’m gonna, ‘toru i- ahh!”, you moaned, arching your back as he held your legs open, hungrily sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves. he lived for your taste, loving how your voice cracks when you’ve had too much for his sinful tongue for one night, most of all though he loved holding you in place while you squirmed into his arms, bucking your hips straight into his mouth so you could ride out your nut

saturo lifts his head up, admiring the sticky mess between your thighs as he works his way up, his dick poking right at your mound

“now for the fun part”

geto - no license

suguru loved, loved, loved, loved making you hit high notes, you promised to ride him one of these days but you were failing miserably, you weren’t making all the pretty noises you usually do

so naturally he took matters into his own hands—literally—by fucking up into you, guiding your hips up and down to match his movements. you could feel your legs juddering from having your legs in one position for so long, nearly ready to give out as you buried your face into his neck, clawing into the leather behind him

he was unrelenting, he probably wasn’t gonna be satisfied until he’s made you cum more times than you can count, to make matters worse though you were fucking in his car in front of a church, not only was it humiliating to know the car was definitely moving in the dark of night but in front of a church made thing so much worse

you’ve always wanted to have car sex and leave it to suguru to make it a night worth remembering with the stakes so high. he told you you had no need to worry since a church is the last place the cops will think of checking on you two, and with every thrust you slowly started to worry less and less

or was that your brain turning into mush? you didn’t even notice suguru was talking to you until you felt a mean smack on your ass, “you hear me talkin’ to you?” you yelp in response struggling to find words as he slams you down harder on his girth

“m-mmhm”

“my poor dumb baby, you’re all fucked out already?” he grabs a fist full of your hair and forces you to look into those fanciable purple irises of his, he hums contently admiring what a mess you’ve made of yourself. your make up that you worked so hard on smeared all over your face and the drool splayed all across your cheek, you were oh so cute like this

another mean smack snaps you out of your daze, dragging a more high pitched yelp out of you than before, “answer” he demands, can’t he tell? the answer was so obvious, your delayed speech and mindless babbling, the way your body would lurch forward in an attempt to impede the next thrust, the tears threatening to fall from those cute little puppy eyes suguru adored so much

“y-you’re being— fuh, s’mean— ngh”

“oh? am i? s’your fault you’re in this mess y’know. making me get my own nut off”

“don’t mean to” you say behind half gritted teeth, your eyes shut in an attempt to deny the inevitable but his hand smacks your ass twice in response

“open those pretty eyes f’me, wanna see that look you give me when you cum”

suguru knew you loved his voice, it was so deep yet soothing, everything about him was so tantalizing, the longer you looked into his eyes the hotter you started to feel. you were practically naked in his car having only your socks and shirt on, he had teased you for hours before your promise to ride him fell through and those hours were starting to catch up to you

“think you can ride all by yourself now?” his hand smacking your ass again just to hear you scream

“y-yes!”

“go on, don’t disappoint me”

you adjust yourself and hold on to the headrest bouncing in the same rhythm he had you going at, his curve hitting that same spot over and over it was driving you fucking crazy. you felt hot all over and the stinging from his constant smacks weren’t going away anytime soon, the inside of your knees started feeling sweaty and slowly but surely you started to wind down

he wouldn’t let that go unpunished though

smacking your ass again and placing his hands on your hips to fix your speed, “you were doin’ so good, what happened huh?”, he gifts you another smack before letting go of your hips, “don’t let it happen again, ok?”, you heard a hint of irritation in his voice, he meant big business

so now with sudden newfound inspiration you go at the exact pace he wants you to go, clutching around his girth every few thrusts, feeling his dick pummel through you so quickly made you so wet and his breathy moans made everything so much wetter until, pop

his dick slipped out, “uh oh,” he lifts you up by your waist and eases it back in, grabbing your hips and slamming you right back down into his balls again, “pussy’s so wet baby, you feel so fuckin good”, then all at once his hands roam up to your waist and he slumps back making you fall against him, thrusting right into you while hitting that g-spot

“who’s pussy is this?”

“ah! ah! yours! ngh”

he smacks your ass really fucking hard this time, forcing you to correct yourself

“ahh fuck! yours suguru, it’s yours!”

then another, smack,

your screaming moans could probably be heard from outside the car but you didn’t care and neither did he all he cared about was hearing those broken pornographic moans scream his name

“that’s more like it, keep going baby, yeahh just like that. here, take that shirt off too”,

he slides your shirt off with ease then cups your breast and places it in his mouth, letting it fall out every now and again to fuck you and then placing it back. near growls leave his mouth as you feel his balls crash into you over and over, making the most lewd papping sounds you’ve ever heard. all this added stimulation started to make you feel lightheaded

his hands were glued to the sides of your hips forcing you to take every inch he could offer and then some, he could feel how your walls would clutch around his dick so tightly, it made him chuckle a little, thinking you might actually break it off. he slows down his pace a little, his hands roaming up to your face, keeping steady eye contact with you, "you take it so well, sweetheart, wanna keep going like this?"

you nod your head rapidly, not knowing what suguru had planned for you next

"use those words of yours" he teases

"y-yes" you exhale, feeling his hands roam back down to your hips lifting them up once more

"come on then, put your arms over me"

nanami - murder road

when you told your husband you wanted to try something different you did not have this in mind

when he first brought up going to a murder road you were curious and excited, thinking it was something similar to halloween horror nights, but when you got into his car and started to see the city lights slowly disappear you grew a little concerned not really knowing what the road ahead had in store for you

"honey, where are we going?"

"you'll see"

the road ahead twisted and the pit in your stomach grew into an abyss, you looked up what a murder road was on your phone since he wasn't coughing up any answers but all that came up was this stupid book and then your service went out!

you knew kento had no alterative plans for you like murder per say... but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable driving into a literal black hole either. as if things couldn’t get weirder you stop at a cliff, its dark as shit out here, you’re cold and you want to go home

you feel sudden warmth on you leg and look down to see your husband's hand he’s looking at you with those same loving eyes he always gives you looking as though he's impressed with himself

“kento— dear, where the fuck are we?”

“this is the murder road i was telling you about”

“yeah but… what are we doing here.. this place is giving me the creeps”

his hand creeps up your thigh, fingers brushing against where your clit would be, “you said you wanted to try something different didn’t you?”

it all started coming together now, the secrecy, the long car ride, all building up to this moment, you’d be lying if his seriousness and dedication to his role didn’t turn you on a little bit, you felt a little more at ease

still freaked out that your husband decided to fuck you in the middle of nowhere but relieved that you won’t end up on the news tomorrow. you both climb in the backseat staring at each other hungrily until you make the first move, taking his tie off of him slowly and sensually, before moving to his button down

“[✿], what were you so afraid of?” a bit of concern tainting his tone

“hm? i just wanted to know where we were going”

“does not knowing things scare you?”

“i guess so”

he then unexpectedly took his tie from you and held it in his hands, "you wanted to try something new, right?"

your hands move away from his button down, his chest was exposed down the middle, his eyes were focused directly on you, unwavering

"y-yeah?"

"you mind if a blind fold you?"

blind folding? what the fuck

was it not enough that you two were surrounded by darkness?

"you've got nothing to be afraid of, no one can see us out here"

it’s not being caught that scared you it’s not knocking whatever coming next that did, then, a familiar feeling started to pull at your stomach again, it was like when you were on your way up here, or when you'd be left in the dark as a child— you were scared, but for some reason this time it felt good. you let him tie the tie around your head, it completely covered your vision and you could only feel kento's warmth in front of you at this point

"tell me if its too tight"

"so'kay"

"you ready?"

"yes"

your body felt so tense but it was all so exciting at the same time, you could hear kento taking off his clothes, the clinking of his belt, the ruffling of his shirt and pants. the anticipation was dreadful, until you felt his hand on your thigh, "can i take these off for you?" he pulls at the loop attached to your jeans

"mmhm"

he unbuttons your jeans first, and then slides them over your hips, you lift yourself up a little to make it easier for him and then he moves over to your long sleeve, only leaving on your bra and panties. your tummy was doing backflips by this point, not knowing what you looked like or what he looked like, just knowing that he was in front of you and that the inevitable was coming soon

"you look so lovely" he professes, guiding you to lie down on your back, you couldn't even fathom that this was happening right now, you felt so many different sensations now that your sight was gone, you felt how strong he was, muscles daring to burst from his smooth, taut skin. his body heat was so strong and it felt almost as if the heat was carrying his scent

you felt something coming closer to your face until you felt his warm lips press against yours, you just now noticed how plump they were, your hands roamed around his body moving up to his back and pulling him in closer, wanting more of his warmth

you could feel his teeth gently clash against yours beckoning you to open your mouth wider to let his tongue in, the texture is rough but wet, you felt one of his hands tuck under your back, bringing you closer to him as his dick nestles between your legs, slowly rutting against your laced panties

his lips would diverge from loving kisses to bites so suddenly, biting your lower lip and slightly sucking on it before sticking his tongue back in your mouth, the unpredictability and lewdness of it all made you throb, the wet sounds your mouths made, hearing how his breath would hitch and his hips would jitter after every whimper that fell from your lips

it must've been so hard from him to hold back because the second you ask for him to put it in you can feel him racing to take your panties off, you can feel the heat radiating from his tip and coming closer, feeling as though its about to burst

he teases the entrance a little covering your clit with the mixture of pre and slick before sinking himself in, shaky moans pour out as your hands try to reach up for him and he comes to you immediately letting you feel his warmth as he kisses your lips

"that's alright honey, ive got you"

toji - put 'em on the glass, girl!

you both knew you were dead wrong, you more than him though, what would the other club members think if they saw you like this? you were part of a very very well known car club, you weren't only apart of it but YOURE THE HEAD of the club

you had it all, the money, the cars, the attention, so what were you doing here? face pressed against the glass of the rival club leader's car with his dick balls deep in your guts?

the only reason you got into this situation was because you decided to match, not only was toji in a car club but he also sold weed and you like to test your products before you buy..

"fuck- toji! ughmygod!"

"somethin' wrong doll?"

"more, more please, more"

"more? awh, must really like me, huh?"

"shutupand fuckme" you say behind gritted teeth, you grab his hand and start throwing it back faster, what can you say? you were gonna get your nut off one way or another

you felt the car bouncing beneath you two, it shook so viciously especially when he started going deeper, it felt like he was pushing your cervix farther back. he grabbed the back of your head, pushing it more into the glass just to watch your breath fog up the mirror, like it wasn't hot enough in here already

you could see his smug grin from the corner of your eye as he pummeled into you, you used to despise that shit eating grin. he'd always show up to takeovers in the flashiest cars that were wayyy out of his tax bracket, there's no way he could afford them, he was definitely a theft waiting to be caught.. but all of that started to fade from your mind when he took his hand off your head and put it between your thighs

you had to let go of him and hang onto the car door to keep your balance by this point, your legs started to buckle and tremble, you could hear him let out a dark chuckle, his fingers spreading your slick covered folds to find thatt spot, the added stimulation was driving you crazy

you can see his face coming closer, stopping just short of your ear, "that feel good? like when i play with your clit like this?"

"uh-huh- yes! don't stop!"

"you gonna cum soon?" he cooed, you weren't even listening to his voice with your ears anymore but your drooling cunt, "i can see your cream on my dick, you nasty whore"

“shutuptoji”

“such a mouthy little bitch, dont’chu know who the fuck y’er talkin’ to?"

all you could do was moan in response as his hips thrusted deeper and harder just to feel you grip onto him tighter, you both knew you were gonna cum soon and it was gonna be messy

“nothin’ to say back huh? who knew that all i needed to fix that mouth of yours was stick my dick in ya”

“just- ngh, fuck— ah, me”

“awh 'm sorry princess, not goin’ fast enough for you?”

then almost instantly his hips started pumping faster, he pulled your head off of the glass and placed it up to look at him, he had moved his hand from between your thighs by now, slowly moved his hands down your waist to your ass, a hand on each cheek, gripping the fat and pushing it together, spanking it, groaning at each thrust loving how he could hear the sound of your ass falling back against him, fucking you so good you started to lose your arch

“t-toji, slow down! ah, ah!”

“hm?" smack! "why the fuck would i?" smack! "s’only one way to shut nasty fuckin’ brats like you up— nghfuck, you’re so wet—", smack! "you run that fuckin' mouth all day n' all i wanna hear is —mmm shiitt baby, fix that fuckin’ back, yeahh"

toji went on and on about how nasty you were fucking him out in public like this, how loud you were being, how much your body loved being on him, all while fucking you the way you deserved to be

"such a needy little bitch, huh? you need my dick? mmhm, fuck— sound like you need it," smack! "mmm, you want it dont you?" smack! "need it huh, dollface?"

a familiar feeling pulled at your womb, filling your insides from how good you felt, your hands scrapped against the fogged glass in an attempt to get away from him, but he holds you down against the glass again forcing you to take it

"fuck are you goin’? we’re not done yet"

[luveline]

spencer x reader where she kisses his forehead and he’s 🥹🥹

“Spencer, are you dead?” 

Spencer ignores your question by accident. Heavy head in hand, he’s slowly sinking closer and closer to the hotel breakfast table to rest. His neck twinges with the effort it takes to stay up. 

“Spencer,” you say more sharply. 

His eyes track like the air is honey. He settles on your sluggishly while offering no greeting, tiredness pulling at him. “My eyes hurt,” he offers. 

“Make you some tea.” 

“Um, okay.” He’s disappointed when you leave, then dozing, face pressed to his desk as itchy eyes press along lids. It feels as though his eyelashes have turned inward. 

You return with a cup. Spencer grabs it blindly, lifts his head to squint one eye open. “What?” he asks. 

There isn’t tea in the cup. There are tea bags, two of them, wetted and leaking tan beige along the white china of the mug. Distinctly no tea. You must be tired too. 

“They’re for your eyes, Spence. They’ll make your eyes hurt less. The caffeine restricts your blood vessels to calm the inflammation, and the tea itself soothes sore skin.” 

“How do you know that?” he asks. 

You rest a hand on his shoulder. “I read about it in a book of modern home remedies. It really works. Here, can you tip your head back?” 

Spencer is very, very tired, but your voice is nice, your fingertips gentle against his neck, so he tips his head back. He doesn’t know how terrible he looks, having forgotten his untucked shirt, his rumpled sweater vest, his hair sticking up all over the place. 

“Close your eyes,” you murmur. 

Spencer shuts them. 

“It’s cold,” you warn, “but it’ll feel nice.” 

Spencer doesn’t care. He waits for you to move. The tea bags you place on his closed eyes feel cold and at first they sting just a touch, perhaps tea finding its way through his lashes, and he can’t confess to noticing a difference in soreness. 

“Hey… what’s this? It looks like it hurts?” you ask, drawing a short line over the side of the bridge of his nose. There’s an indent there that feels like a bruise.

“I fell asleep at my desk with my glasses on,” he says. “They dug in.” 

“You were up late, I’m guessing. Maybe you should go back to the room.” 

“No, I can’t. I’ll be okay. Thank you for the… tea.” 

Your hand rests tentatively against his cheek. He can’t open his eyes to see what you're feeling, and he doesn’t need to. There’s emotion to be felt in your slow strokes, how your thumb rests along his jaw as your nail scratches to the top of his ear, then behind the shell of it. It’s intimate enough to summon a different kind of tiredness. Exhaustion swapped for content. He could sleep in the curve of your palm all day. 

“You’re welcome,” you say. “I’m gonna take them off for a second to check the damage.” 

You take them. Your breath draws near. 

A warmth presses to his forehead atop his left eyebrow. Spencer doesn’t know what it is until your nose graces just above it, and your lips part —it’s a kiss. You’re kissing him sweetly, your fingers sewing through his hair. 

He peels his sore eyes open to look at you. You lean back as unhurried as you’d ferried forward, your hand cradling the nape of his neck. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask. 

Spencer stares up at you. In that moment, tired, aching, and balmed, he’s completely in love with you. You must see a little of it, your lips parting again in an unnamed emotion. It’s sheer luck that you’re the only one awake with him, because if any of his teammates saw the way he was looking at you they’d never let him forget it. And, he gets to see your reaction. Your partial smile. 

“Did that help?” you ask. 

You must mean the tea. “I feel better.” 

“Yeah? Do you…” Your voice turns to cashmere, a thread of bemusement tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Would another one be okay?” 

Spencer can only nod as you wrap your arms around him and position your mouth at the soft skin where his hair meets his forehead. When you kiss him again, his eyes flutter shut. 

“You really need some help with your insomnia,” you murmur. 

Spencer wonders if maybe you’d want to be that help. You must have melatonin in your kisses.

[januaryembrs]

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

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

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

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

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

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[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer gulped quietly. 

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

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing. 

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

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

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

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

So why lie?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+1. The one where you get arrested.

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

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

Yet so was Emily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+2. The one where you graduate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bug-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t even,” 

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was when the shooting started. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could only hope Emily was safe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so they did. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

This was not good. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

2:53 stared back at her. 

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

2:54.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she saw why. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saved mine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stayed with Emily for a month after that. 

+4. The one where you leave the altar. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Thiis place is lacking in the cregan stark department! How about Cregan coming to his chambers to find his southern targ wife in the bath and he join in and offer to warming her up…iykwim

I have two other Cregan wip in my drafts. More is coming <3

Warnings: 18+, smut, masturbation (both receiving), p + v, this is not foot fetish,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Warm water enveloped your body like a blanket, making you sigh as you laid your head back against the edge of the tub. The maids who drew your bath had offered to help scrub your body and wash your hair, but you told them you simply wanted to relax after today’s petitions. 

Although you spent your day sitting in a chair, it was exhausting. People’s requests and complaints were exhausting.

You closed your eyes, the crackling sound coming from the hearth and the lavender oils in the water creating a calm ambiance.

‘’Is there room for me?’’ Cregan’s deep voice inquired, standing across the tub. 

Startled, your eyes shot open, having not heard him enter your chambers or call out his greetings. 

A smile curled on your lips as you glanced up at your husband, the warm water in front of you sloshing a bit from the sudden movements. ‘’Always.’’ 

You shifted in the tub, pulling your legs to your chest to make room for him. Its circle shape made it larger than the regular copper tubs, which was perfect to fit two people. 

Cregan swiftly disrobed, his clothes falling into a lump on the floor before stepping in the warm water. ‘’Seven Hells, this it hot.’’ 

A soft giggle slipped from your lips. ‘’The water has cooled down since I got in,’’ you explained as he settled before you, angling his long legs on each side of you. ‘’Us, Targaryens, have a stronger endurance to heat. It’s the blood of the dragon.’’ 

‘’I’ll take you to the hot springs some time, it should please you.’’ 

‘’Sounds heavenly. Will you join me?’’

Northerners were not fond of the Winterfell hot springs, too hot for their likings, but Cregan would never turn down an occasion to be with you. Especially naked. 

‘’If my lady wishes me to,’’ he murmured softly, unfolding your leg with care. His strong hands began to massage your calf, kneading your muscles gently and expertly.

A low moan escaped your lips as you leaned back against the tub, savoring the tenderness of his touch. He continued massaging your leg, his fingers working their way up before going back down and pressing a gentle kiss to your ankle. 

‘’Enjoying yourself?’’ Cregan asked, knowing the answer already from the blissful expression on your face. 

You hummed. ‘’Do you want me to wash you?’’ 

Although there were maids to assist lords and ladies with their baths, you enjoyed running a soapy sponge over your husband’s shoulders and chest. It was a moment of intimacy you cherished. 

And the idea of another woman helping your husband bathe made you green with jealousy. 

You shifted closer and grabbed the bar of soap, lathering it on a sponge before gently scrubbing the soapy sponge over Cregan’s broad shoulders. He made no movement as you washed him, allowing himself to unwind for the first time since sunrise. 

The suds dripped down his hard chest and into the bath water as you moved down his arms. The close proximity caused Cregan's eyes to rake over your bare breasts, drinking you in with a wolf’s appetite. 

He reached forward, tugging at your hip. ‘’Come here.’’ 

The Northman captured your lips into a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You winded your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you, kissing passionately. There was no need to make haste as the day was over, so you took your time. Cregan ran his palms up the length of your thighs before hoisting you on his lap in one motion. The water made it slippery, but you held on to your man.

The water swished, spilling slightly over the tub. You paid it no mind, feeling Cregan's large hands roaming up your naked body. He cupped a breast in his palm, his thumb flicking against the sensitive bud, drawing another sound of pleasure from you.

This was what he meant on your wedding day when he promised to keep you warm. 

You rutted atop him until your cunt found his hard cock under the water and rubbed yourself against it. Cregan groaned from the friction, his blood thrumming from the contact, igniting his desires. 

‘’Impatient, are we?’’ he teased, chuckling against your lips. 

Rising on his knees, Cregan pushed you down until you were resting against the tub, and parted your legs. Your needy cunt was begging for his attention. He plunged his hand in the water to toy with your clit, and your soft mewls filled the room. 

‘’Ahh, that feels good,’’ you said, opening your legs wider and catching sight of his rock-hard cock standing against his lower stomach. It twitched under the soapy water, red tip peaking out. You reached to stroke him, getting a low curse in response.  

The foreplay didn’t last long, just enough to get you going. When you had enough, you rose on your knees and turned to grab the edge of the tub, presenting your behind to your lord husband. Getting the message, Cregan kneeled behind you. He took a moment to admire your glistening folds before slowly pushing his thick cock inside.

You sucked in a breath, your inner walls pulsed around him as he entered, filling you up. You couldn’t help but moan from how good it felt. He began to thrust slowly, his low groans mixing with your moans and praises. There was no greater pleasure than this. 

Cregan ran his slightly calloused hands up and down your soapy back and hips, then tenderly squeezed your ass. You whimpered in pleasure, and he smirked at your reaction. This was never a position Cregan thought he would enjoy. He found it animalistic and unromantic. But your adventurous side was bleeding through him. 

After a harder thrust, your hand slipped, reminding you that bath intercourses were not the safest. Fortunately, Cregan was quick, grabbing your shoulder before you could hurt yourself. 

‘’This is not going to work,’’ he decided, not wanting to have to explain to the maester how you split your chin…

You let out an unhappy whine when he pulled out. The emptiness didn't last long. Cregan went back to where he had been sat, and pulled you over him, his cock slipping with ease back into your cunt.

Water splashed over the tub as you began to slowly ride him, gripping onto his biceps and creating moon shaped indents into his skin as he was kissing your jaw and neck. The maids who will clean up in the morrow will no doubt wonder how all that water got out of the tub. 

His breathing began to quicken, and a low groan escaped his throat as you picked up your pace. He buried his head into your neck, nipping at your skin. ‘’Slow down. Don’t want—agh this to end so soon.’’

‘’Can't,’’ you whined, lost in your own pleasure. Your head fell back as you rode him even faster, your breasts bouncing in rhythm, perky and heavy, perfect to nurse his future babes. 

He dug his fingertips into your thighs, trying to hold you back as he panted against your chest, but you were determined to reach your peak. ‘’Seven hells, you’ll be the end of me.’’

Cregan’s control was slipping, his breaths turning ragged. You loved him like this. Your powerful, confident Warden of the North, completely lost and at your mercy.

Your hips rolled against his and your legs were quivering, but you kept up your pace, desperately needing to finish. 

Cregan felt you clench around him, your orgasm reaching its peak, and swallowed your strangled cry as he captured your mouth in a hungry kiss. He didn’t last much longer after that. With a guttural moan, the northman spilled his seed inside of you, his hips bucking up to prolong the release.

‘’I’m going to miss you when you leave for the Wall’’ you said, still attached to Cregan’s body. ‘’Winter is long.’’ 

He drew lazy circles along your bare hip with his thumb as he pressed a sweet kiss under your jaw. ‘’The water is getting cold. We should get out.’’

—

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[rhaenyra-storms]

Hi! Hello! So obsessed with Cregan too! Your fic with the direwolf pup was so precious, I loved it!

But, what about a lil something where Cregan steals kisses from his wife throughout the day whenever they see one another in the castle ?

thank you so much!! your idea is so adorable too and i loved writing it!

pairing: cregan stark x f!reader warnings: clingy cregan, just fluff, reader is shorter than cregan words: 1044

"M'lady, would you prefer beef or mutton for dinner tonight?"

A servant peeked into the room, the hint of a smile on his face. You had been stitching a few holes in your husband's pants, insisting to do it yourself. Cregan always managed to get them to tear open when he was out on a hunt. It was a small gesture from your side to fix them yourself.

"Beef would be nice. Thank you." You smiled back at the older servant before he bowed quickly and left you alone once more. However, you quickly realised that you were still supposed to send a raven to your mother. The pants could wait for a moment longer, so you placed them down on your bed before you headed out into the hallway.

The tall man at the end of the hallway, still with his back turned to you, would be recognised by you almost anywhere. Your husband was talking to one of the smith's new apprentices. Cregan was a kind lord to all his subjects and whenever he could, he loved to make a little conversation with them.

As soon as the young boy spotted you, he bowed briefly.

"Lady Stark."

Cregan turned around then, a smile already on his lips. He wasn't afraid to show his affection outside of your personal chambers, so his arm sneaked easily around your waist, pulling you in closer to himself.

He kept his attention on the boy though, giving him a polite nod. "It was nice talking to you. I am sure we'll talk again in the following weeks."

"Of course, my lord. It was my pleasure." He bowed once more before he hastened down the steps into the main hall, leaving you and your husband alone.

"Where were you going, my love?" Cregan asked curiously then, taking the time to grab your hips with both hands as you stood before him. You tilted your head up a little, looking at your tall husband. "Just wanted to send a raven to my mother. We haven't talked in a while and I wanted her to visit soon."

He smiled softly, giving you a nod. "You know she's always welcome here in Winterfell. I'd love to have her and your father around soon."

His right hand moved up to cup your chin gently, pulling your head a little closer to press a kiss against your lips. As always, you exchanged more than just one quick peck, leaning into your husband, hands planted on his strong chest.

A giggle escaped your lips when he turned you around, pressing your back against the stone wall behind you.

It took a few more moments until you were able to separate from each other.

"I could do this all day, darling. But I still need to work and-"

You stopped him as you placed a soft hand on his cheek. His skin was always warm and you could feel him leaning into your touch as he looked at you in the dim-lit hallway. Cregan's eyes would always be a beautiful sight to you.

"We're going to see each other for dinner and then we can have the whole evening to ourselves," you assured him, stealing one last kiss off his lips. He seemed satisfied enough with your response and made sure to press his lips against the back of your hand one more time before you parted ways.

You weren't really sure how much of a coincidence it was when you were on your way back from the Maester later in the day and ran into your husband in the courtyard.

Wasn't he out hunting just an hour earlier?

It didn't matter to you though when he wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you to the side gently. His lips were on yours quicker than you could realise, a surprised laughter making its way out of your mouth.

Your hands flew up to grab his hair for a moment as his big hands rested on the small of your back.

A tension started to build in your stomach and you pressed your body more against your husband's, desperate to savour the moment as much as you could. He had probably been waiting for you somehow and you were glad that he did. Getting to kiss him throughout the day was the greatest pleasure you could imagine.

"Cregan," you laughed softly when he continued to plant a few kisses on your right cheek. "You know we're supposed to be going after our tasks?" His arms had wrapped tightly around your waist, his scent filling your nose. He smelled like the pines outside Winterfell, something you'd always recognise about him.

"I know, love. But you're making my day sweeter with this." His voice had turned a little rough as he whispered in your ear, shivers running down your spine as a response. Your hands slid under his cloak and you pressed yourself closer to your husband once more.

You met gazes again as you looked up, Cregan's eyes undeniably filled with adoration. How did you get so lucky?

"I love you, Cregan. And you're right, it's making my day sweeter too. As long as I can steal a kiss from you every now and then, being the Lady of Winterfell does not get boring at all," you whispered, pecking his lips again. Could you ever get enough of this? Could he ever get enough of this?

Some people might describe your husband as a very serious man. But whenever he smiled, you felt like there was nothing bad in the world that mattered. He smiled at you all the time and it made you feel like the most important part of his world.

"Every kiss the Lady of Winterfell can grant me is sacred to me," he whispered as he took your hand and brought it up to his mouth. His lips brushed over your knuckles gently, leaving a trail of warmth behind as he moved up to your wrist with his mouth.

He manoeuvred your hand to his cheek slowly, letting it rest there before he connected your lips once more.

All your days could go past like this for the rest of your life and you would be the happiest woman in the world.

[aayakashii]

soooo I wrote this for the art god @devotion-disorder because

1- they're one of my favorite artists ever!!!!!!! And they're someone who portrays yanderes in such a 😙🤌 chef's kiss way that I can't help but admire

2- I am obsessed with their oc kuuya

but if you'd rather I delete it, just let me know!!

Warnings: NSFW, yandere behavior, unhealthy obsession !!! Minors DNI !!!

Part 2 of this fic here <3

The skin on the nape of your neck prickled, making you shiver at the strange sensation.

The steady gaze outside your window was so piercing and unmoving that it could be as sharp as needles nicking your skin.

Although, if you were to be fully honest, it felt more like a knife.

It would be just another night, if it wasn't for the fact that your co-worker lurked outside your house.

"Kuuya", you mouthed his name, just to feel how it moves against your lips, because you could never really say it during daytime without having him spiral headfirst into a meltdown.

Kuuya was a disaster.

He never talked to you.

You would sometimes catch him staring at you during work, which made him blush like an anime schoolgirl, but that was the extent of his interaction with you.

He was a regular employee, didn't stand out much, nor caused problems. He was just... there. Constantly looking exhausted, with his back hunched and in the verge of a mental breakdown.

And you were so attracted to that mess of a man.

Your friends would probably frown and sigh if they knew, but they were also pretty much aware of your type: sickly victorian-looking men, anemic, with extremely dark circles under their eyes, who probably sneeze a lot and shake like chihuahuas.

And, hey, that was Kuuya to a T. How could you not have a crush on him?

You soon realized, however, that he probably had a few screws loose.

It started slow, a few things going missing. First it was a pen, then some of your hair ties, then old post-it notes you had forgotten about, until their absence reminded you of their existence.

These things were inconsequential.

You wouldn't even notice their disappearance, if it wasnt for the fact that one day you saw Kuuya with a fluffy hair tie that looked way too similar to yours to be a coincidence. It even had the same little star charm that yours had.

And then you noticed the pens, carefully placed inside a cup near his computer.

And the erasers, the post-its, the pencils, all the other office appliances that you were pretty sure were yours.

But they weren't, right?

That was just your fertile imagination playing tricks on you.

Right?

One day, just to erase this silly idea from your head – I mean, you were probably just paranoid – you waited until you saw Kuuya take a break from his assignments and make his way to the bathroom.

You observed through the corner of your eyes how he stared at you while making his way to the other side of the office, anxiously shaking your leg as you mentally egged him to hurry up and go to the damn toilet.

As soon as you were sure he was inside and you were out his sight, you bolted towards his desk, earning a few pissed off glances from your other coworkers.

You had to work quickly though, since you didnt know how long he would take to come back. Looking over your shoulder constantly, you opened the drawers under his desk, searching for something and feeling silly all the while (what if you're the crazy paranoic one for real?), until your hands haphazardly touched some papers and you heard the sound of crinkles.

Looking over your shoulder one more time to make sure he wasn't around, you lifted the papers and mouthed a silent "oh." as you saw what was underneath them.

Dozens and dozens of candy wrappers, discarded notes and even more of those old post-its laid organized in what you could say was impeccable fashion, if it wasnt for the fact that it was all trash.

Your trash.

In the back, you saw some plastic bags with questionable contents, but your anxiety was in an all time high and you decided to just put things back were they were and close the drawer.

You had your confirmation. He WAS crazy and you were still paranoid, but at least you were right.

You made way back to your desk and sighed, sitting down.

Conflicted feelings pooled in your gut.

You knew all of that meant that he was indeed crazy and obsessed and potentially dangerous, but also... you couldn't really deny the excitement that made butterflies fly all around in your stomach and the giddy feeling that made your heart race with expectations – of what, you didn't know.

And as these feeling swarmed you, you failed to realize the pair of eyes that were locked tight onto your figure from the very start.

If Kuuya could properly express his feelings, he would be moaning and whining in pure despair.

They saw everything. They saw where he keeps all his treasures he had been collecting for the past months.

But why?! Why did they even think about looking for that? Has Kuuya been acting too obvious? But he made sure he wouldn't be too creepy! Well, at least not as creepy as he truly wanted to be. How was that happening all of a sudden?!

The taste of copper interrupted his mental breakdown and he looked down at his thumb, where tiny droplets of blood appeared after he anxiously chewed it.

"It's okay, it's fine" he kept repeating in his mind, like a mantra. He'd just need to see how you'd act around him after that.

If you stopped interacting with him (even if most of those interactions were just good mornings and good evenings coming from YOU), he would probably just... end it all for once. Or maybe kidnap you so you wouldn't run away. Whatever crossed his mind first.

With his heart beating loud on his chest, Kuuya walked back to his seat and forced himself to work, spreadsheets and numbers flashing on his mind, unnoticed.

All he could think was of your hands rummaging through his drawers.

Oh god, your hands touched his things.

Kuuya exhaled sharply, rubbing his thighs together to alleviate the sudden discomfort in his groin. What would he do if you never even looked at his direction again? Sure, you could even report him to the HR, but not being able to see you was a fate worse than being fired!

His mind tumbled, wandering through every worst scenario possible, and in his despair, he didn't notice it was already time to clock out.

"Good evening, Kuuya." You say as you pass by him, nodding your head, with a tight smile.

'Huh?'

Kuuya stares at nothing in front of him, until the fact that you talked to him registers in his mind.

'HUH?'

You talked to him?

Wait.

Did you really see what was in his drawers? Was he just hallucinating? No, there's no way he was. He saw how your colleagues stared at you when you ran to his table. They SAW you. Just like he did. So you saw everything. And you don't hate him? What the fuck. You don't find him disgusting? What? What the hell.

He didn't understand.

He couldn't understand.

He had to understand.

And so, he led himself towards your house, hiding in the bushes right in front of your bedroom window.

How lucky was he that you didn't live in an apartment building?

He was there to understand you better. Just for that. And it'd be just this time, he swore. Just to see what was up with you.

His breath was ragged and heavy and his cheeks burned red. He bit his bottom lip tightly to keep any moan from escaping as he palmed himself through his pants, while he watched the way you stripped yourself of your work clothes.

Quickly undoing his belt buckle and his pants, he let himself be completely overtaken by pure lust and began pumping his dick mercilessly as he was graced with just a little bit more of your skin, right in front of him.

He saw you sigh as you got rid of your pants and his eyes rolled back, imagining how you'd sound if he was the one taking your clothes off.

Oh, what would he give to be able to jump through your window and grab one of your dirty clothes and get drunk on your scent...

The thought made him buck his hips forward clumsily, and he gritted his teeth, hard.

Well, fuck.

He panted, while he observed the way his cum dripped from the leaves of the bush, and as coherent thoughts started flowing back to his mind, he suddenly hoped he wasn't moving too much to catch your attention.

You hadn't even looked his way, so he was safe, right?

Right?

You rubbed your thighs together as you kept your back turned to the window. The windowpane was open, in order to allow the wind to flow through your bedroom, and due to this little fact, you could hear a faint sound coming from the plants right in front of your window.

A quiet, almost indiscernible (if you weren't paying close attention) plap plap plap sound.

You bit your lip to keep your grin from spreading through your lips.

The dumbass was masturbating! Right there! Right in front of your room!

You sighed, feeling the heat pool in between your legs, but controlled your instinct to pull him out from wherever he was and fuck him silly in your bedroom.

You desired him so fucking much. You thrived in his attention, like a sunflower leaning towards rays of light.

The thing is: while you loved his obsession, you were also deathly afraid that he would lose interest in you as soon as he found out how much you also wanted him.

Much like a cat who discards a prey. Except this cat was wet, sad, pathetic and still, you were ridiculously eager to keep playing dead so he would put his grimy, sticky little paws on you just a little bit more.

How would Kuuya feel, you wondered, if he knew you were as obsessed with him as much as he was with you?

[lovebugism]

What if reader's friends convince her to go on a date with another guy, and this guy is an absolute jerk? I think reader would call Eddie and ask her to come pick her up - why is every guy an asshole? Except Eddie of course 🖤

ty for requesting :D — grumpy!eddie rescues you from a bad date then offers to take you on a better one (friends to lovers, hurt/comfort ish | 1k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

The sunset matches the color of your Slurpee. A fiery red and orange hue, like the mango and strawberry concoction in your cup. You sip from the plastic straw and pretend to taste the sky in your mouth — pretending not to notice the pounding bass of Eddie’s van as he peals into the parking lot. 

You sit on the curb and keep your eyes trained on the cracked pavement under your feet. All cool. Like you hadn’t called him for help at all.

“You could’ve been more specific about where you were, you know?” Eddie shouts, punctuating his question with the slam of the car door. His worn sneakers scuff the concrete with each of his rushed strides. You’d almost think he was actually worried about you.

“I told you I was at the payphone by the Seven-Eleven,” you shrug, tilting your chin to look up at the boy when he stands ahead of you.

“There’s four of those,” he argues, with his lanky figure looming over you. He pushes his leather jacket off his sides (which he wears in spite of the summer heat) to put his hands on his hips. “Seriously. I counted ‘em all in the half hour it took me to find you.”

You squint up at him, hardly apologetic after the shit day you’ve had. “Well, sorry for not being more clear,” you spit in a cynical monotone.

“Apology accepted,” Eddie shrugs. He huffs and sits on the curb next to you while you slurp audibly at the slushie in your fist. He leans over to knock your shoulders with his. “What happened?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Figured… Can I have some, at least?”

He’s only partly surprised when you hand over the drink without protest. He takes it in his ringed fist, looks inside to observe its content, then sips at the red straw (trying to ignore the nagging thought that your lips have been where his are now). The strawberry-mango mixture melts quickly on his tongue, foreign and sweet. “’S nice.”

You scoff like you’re owed the compliment. “Right? I let Josh try some earlier, and he said it tasted like shit. I was like, you know what, this is my final fucking straw.”

Eddie’s face screws. He wipes dramatically at his mouth with the back of his hand, hopelessly trying to erase the other asshole’s DNA. “Are you serious?” he mumbles, all annoyed ‘cause you hadn’t thought to warn him beforehand. You don’t seem to understand his meaning, though, as you shrug lazily in response.

“Well, him trying to feel me up in his car was my actual final straw. But then he hated my all-time favorite Slurpee, and I didn’t even want to look at him anymore. I just told him to leave me here.”

The only thing Eddie hates more than putting his mouth where Josh’s has been — other than the thought of Josh taking you on a date at all — is the idea of Josh not treating you right. His chest burns with a withheld rage.

“Are you talking about fucking Josh O.?” he scoffs and passes the styrofoam cup back to you. “Like, the moron from Mr. Mundy’s, Josh O.? That’s who Steve set you up with?”

“Unfortunately,” you grumble and take another sip, more casual about the subtle spit-swapping than the boy beside you had been.

“He was basically setting you up for failure, then. You know that, right?”

“I just wanted a free meal,” you confess quietly.

Eddie squints. His eyes flit from your profile, to your fidgeting hand punching holes in the ice with your straw, and back to your profile again. “Well, did you get one?”

“Yep. We split one burger at the diner.”

A laugh sputters from his pink mouth.

Your head whips to glare at him. “It’s not funny.”

Eddie props his elbow on his knee to hide his smile behind his ringed hand. “I mean… It kinda is, though. ‘Cause even I could buy two meals for us, and I’m basically the brokest fucker in this town.”

“Are you offering?”

His brows pinch. “Offering what?”

“To buy me a burger,” you say in a mousy voice, pretending to be innocent as you peer at him beneath your lashes, all doe-eyed.

“What?” Eddie scoffs through the sparkling in his chest. As a self-proclaimed metalhead, there was absolutely nothing metal about confessing to stupid crushes. “No.”

“Well, it sounds a lot like you’re offering,” you tease before wrapping your lips around the straw of your drink.

“Well, this sounds a lot like talking for someone who doesn’t wanna talk about it,” he mocks.

Your eyes narrow in annoyance. You part from your Slurpee and mumble through the ice on your tongue. “I wasted my quarters on you,” you deadpan.

Eddie rolls his eyes. He rises from the curb with a huff, wincing at the distant ache in his long legs. “C’mon, weirdo. Let’s go,” he urges, towering over you again.

You shake your head, gaze averted, suddenly shy. “I’m okay here.”

“Let’s go.”

“I’m serious, Eds. I don’t feel like going home right now—”

“I’m not taking you home,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. Your eyes flit back to his, suddenly hopeful again, and he tries not to cower. “I’m taking you to the diner. So I can get you a real meal.”

You seem particularly moved by the uncharacteristic act of kindness. “Really?”

“Yes, really— I don’t want you to starve to death,” he grouses, feigning annoyance ‘cause it’s easier than facing his real feelings in the face. “Now, let’s go before I change my mind.”

He walks off ahead of you on long legs, leaving you behind to catch up. But, because he isn’t a total asshole, he opens the squeaking passenger side door for you.

“Can I get a milkshake, too?” you wonder with a scrunched nose, helping yourself onto the cracked pleather seat.

“Don’t push it,” Eddie squints. He goes to shut the door, then catches the pretty pout pinching your features. “Fine,” he groans before slamming it shut.

[srngrque]

tell my girlfriend i love her.

jude bellingham x fem!reader. fluff jude has something to say to the public, clearly.

The city of Madrid was crying out loud in white and happiness while you were quietly suffering with your thesis paper, the ultimate killer of your life.

Your heart was already sinking, knowing you were not able to go to the stadium to cheer your boyfriend after his first biggest win of the season but Jude was more understanding than anyone as he kept saying it was alright and it just made your day way worse.

("I am so sorry, I wish I could come but this paper . . it is killing me." You muttered through your phone, as the other line heard you in silence.

Jude sighed, and your heart broke a little. It will be his big day, his club's big day, and you, being his girlfriend, could not attend. Your thoughts lingered toward the trolls on the internet who would be after the status of your relationship.

"It is alright, my love. You will call me after we finish the game, innit? I would just love to hear your voice after we win." Jude softly said, in his voice settled a calmness and a sense of assurance.

You nodded furiously. "I will call you, of course, I will. I love you," You sighed in defeat. "I love you so much." You said it once again, more clearly to hear, more firmly to believe. You could just envision Jude sitting on his bed, biting his lips in slight disappointment with his shoulder completely down like a baby.

"I love you too." He chuckled, trying to make you feel better about the whole situation. "Your boyfriend will make you proud."

"My boyfriend always makes me proud.")

So you decided to take a break from the paper and see the live broadcast of Real Madrid through your large television that Jude gifted claiming to watch him play while you do your little assignment. Switching the television on the news was already covering the win of Real Madrid in the Champions League. After his fresh win with his club, you had already called Jude but it was impossible to pick up since he was happily celebrating with his family and his teammates.

And you did not mind.

His bright smile and the happiness that twinkled through his eyes as he proudly showed off his badge and its accomplishment was warming your heart. Proud was an understatement with Jude, but it was all worth it.

Traveling around Madrid with his teammates on the upper deck of the bus. Your eyes lingered on Jude through the live broadcast as he quietly sipped his cup. You shook your head, laughing since his drunk behavior is quite questionable and now he has decided to show off to the world.

This would be fun, you thought.

"Jude, how do you feel about the win in your first season?" The reporter gently forwarded the mic to Jude who had a red cup holding on his hand. He laughed, grabbing the mic.

"Being in Real Madrid was already a great pleasure, but winning with the club and for the people who support Real Madrid was another beautiful moment of my life and I do not think I will ever forget. But I," He caught a breather for a moment, "I honestly do not know but like, I miss my girlfriend." He rambled through his words. You laughed on your couch, confused and slightly nervous about his behavior. "So I do not know, maybe I am happy but I am sad too." He confessed at the end.

With all the fixed pieces of your heart, it broke piece by piece with his confession at the end.

The reporter took the mic from Jude, but he frantically grabbed it back as if he still had something to say. Clearing his throat, he waved the cameraman to come closer, "Please come here. No, please stay back. No need. I have a mic. Please stay back. I need to look presentable." He laughed.

You mentally note to never let his lips touch any form of alcohol whatsoever. Well, his mother will do the part too. "Can you please tell my girlfriend I love her? Oh wait, I have a mic." Jude whispered to the reporter whilst still holding the mic.

You cupped your mouth, not wanting to laugh at him. Your heart clenched out in adoration at the boy standing in front of a sports broadcast confessing out loud that he simply misses his girlfriend.

"Jude, I think you told her that just now." The reporter laughed. The camera shook in a degree noticing that the cameraman was laughing alongside. The heat crept through your neck but your eyes could not leave him, and his expression for the whole nation to see, he furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head.

"No, I need to tell her properly again." Jude expressed his words through his pouted lips and his eyes darted at the camera.

"We won, baby. I love you, I love you so much, I will call you after this, I promise and I will fly to you and my heart will still be yours." Jude smiled, staring at the camera with his eyes still sad, yet his smile gave enough of how much he simply wanted to be with you right now.

"I love you too." You whispered softly . . for nobody to hear but most likely the ghost, yet it was enough to know he is coming home to you.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

angel of a daughter

words: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, stepcest, stepdad!rafe, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virgin!reader, female receiving oral, fingering, breeding, fertility issues (from mother), reader is described as having big boobs, kinda pregnancy kink from rafe but more talk of sex while pregnant, cheating (no daddy kink)

“i got the results back.” your mom says, her voice low and sad, revealing her results with her tone alone. “the doctor says theres no way.” “i’m sorry, mama.” you pout, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. you hate that you feel a bit of relief. your mom had you young, a teenager knocked up by another teenager who ran off the second he heard his girlfriend got pregnant.

your mom raised you until you were a teenager yourself, doing everything by herself until your stepdad came into the picture. he inserted himself perfectly into your life, but expected to have kids of his own.

“whats the plan then?” you question as your stepdad comes into the living room, setting a glass of water down in front of your mom. you sit on either side of her, showing your support. “adoption? surrogate?” 

you like being an only child. you like it just being you, mom, and rafe, but at the same time, you want your mom to be happy, and if a baby gives her that, you'll adjust for her.

“actually…” rafe clears his throat. “we were hoping you’d be willing to help out.”

“yeah, of course.” you nod. “anyway i can.” 

you don’t realize what rafe means until later. you assumed it was just help researching adoption agencies, or finding a surrogate, but as rafe hovers over you, you realize he means to breed you.

“m-my mom can’t be okay with this.” you stutter out, body stiff against the bed, trapped as you blink up at rafe, body caging you over the mattress.

“she thinks you’re going to get inseminated.” he huffs out, breath warm against your face. “and in a way you are. a natural way.”

“i-i-” you stutter out. “i don't know about this.”

“come on, i see the way you look at me.” rafe shifts his weight to one hand, gliding down the other down your torso, squeezing your hip gently. “i know you want this.”

“you're married to my mom!” your eyes are wide, but a spark does ignite inside of you. “you're my stepdad!”

“and you’re going to be doing both of us such a big favor, pretty girl.” rafe coos, his fingers running along the material of your shorts, stroking closer and closer to your center every time.

“i-i guess it would be easier than going to a doctor.” you’re sure it involves waivers and legal shit that your mind just can’t even wrap around.

“exactly!” rafe smiles down at you, glad for your naivety. “besides, im making you feel good... you’ll get pregnant, and both of us will feel real good.”

“how many times will we get to do it?” you whisper, hands reaching up to touch rafes cheeks, running your finger down the smooth planes. “like, it probably won’t take the first time.”

“as many times as we have to babygirl. and i’ll take real good care of you during your pregnancy. rub your feet, buy whatever you are craving, eat you out.” rafe loves the way your eyes blow wide.

“thats not appropriate!” your mom has lectured you long and hard about sexual experiences and above all how important it is to wait so you don’t become pregnant young like she did. and now she is asking you to allow your stepdad to breed you when you’re freshly out of your teen years.

“its okay, its just you helping us out so im helping you back out in return.” rafe moves his hand up to cup your cheek. “let me show you.”

he leans down to press your lips together in a kiss. you lay frozen for a moment before beginning to move back, reciprocating the kiss as your hands fist into his shirt, tugging him lower.

you let out a moan into his mouth and rafe has to pull away to chuckle. “see, i knew you wanted me babygirl.”

“yeah.” you nod. “okay, lets do this.” damn the consequences, you can think about them later.

“good.” he coos out, lips back against yours quickly as his hand gropes at your breast, rubbing them through your tanktop. you’ve always been insecure about the size of your chest, but as rafe lowers down to look at them, you think about them in a whole new light.

“these are gonna feed our baby so well.” he says, tugging at the hem of your shirt, lower and lower until it breeches the swell of your breasts and they pop out the top. you don’t ask who he means by ‘our’. you can indulge in the fantasy that it’s just you and rafe. that your mom is still in the picture, but only in the role as your mother, not the one of rafes baby. 

rafe wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking deeply into his mouth, so in contrast to what it must feel like to have an infant feeding.

“i-more.” you gasp out as rafes fingers play with your other nipple, rolling and pinching at it until they’re both stiff peaks.

“i can’t wait to fuck you baby.” rafe says, helping you sit up just slightly to pull your shirt off, the small pajama shorts the only barrier you have left on your body. rafe also tugs his shirt off. you’ve seen him shirtless before in the pool or on your boat, but its different in this low lighting, so intimate and close. 

“gonna eat your pretty pussy first though.” rafe tugs your shorts down, your thighs pressing together to allow you to keep that part of yourself hidden for a moment longer, before rafe is pushing at your legs and slotting himself onto the bed in between them.

“aww.” rafe smiles, looking much more like a boy your age with his grin rather than your stepfather. “i knew she’d be cute.” his hands stroke over your inner thighs. “have you ever had a guy eat your pussy before?”

“no.” you shake your head. “never done anything with a guy.” you’ve kissed past boyfriends, but it never went beyond that.

“im gonna be your first?” theres a spark in rafes eye when he realizes that you’re a virgin. that he’s going to deflower you, fill you up. 

“y-yeah.” you nod. 

rafe wants you to cum once with his mouth and fingers first to open you up and get you wetter before he fucks you, so he wastes no more time, pushing his face forward between your legs, tongue swiping over your folds as you scream out in pleasure. 

rafe is glad as your moans increase with every flick of his tongue and glide of his lips that he chose to sneak into your room in a time when your mom was gone, off to the spa with her girlfriends, no doubt sharing to them her recent doctors trip and how her angel of a daughter agreed to be a surrogate so her and rafe could have a baby of their own.

“you taste so good.” rafe says. he isn’t one to enjoy giving head often, but you really are the sweetest taste on his lips. he focuses in on your clit as your entire body stiffens before relaxing, sighing out as your head becomes fuzzier and fuzzier with every touch of rafes mouth.

“do you touch yourself here?” rafe asks, pressing kisses to your clit, making out with it just like he did you mouth.

“no.” you shake your head. you occasionally grinded yourself into a pillow stuffed between your legs to get off when you got too overwhelmed, but you never reached your hand in your pants to feel yourself.

“what about here?” rafe brings his hand to your cunt, finger circling around your entrance.

your eyes widen again, that gloriously innocent startled look that has rafe grinding into the bed to give his cock some sort of relief.

“never!” you shake your head.

rafe just smiles, going back to focusing on your clit as his finger pushes in. you’re so wet it’s not difficult at all, but he can feel the way you squeeze around his digit, getting used to the feeling of the intrusion.

“relax for me, princess.” rafe says, sucking at your clit as he begins to move his finger in and out until he’s able to easily pump, the delicious squelching of your wetness filling the room with his every movement.

“gonna add a second, okay?” rafe talks you through the process, not wanting to do something to scare you into changing your mind. “gotta open you up for my cock, baby.”

rafe pushes a second finger into your entrance, working you open until he feels your body stiffen, his concentration going to your clit as he works you through your orgasm, your high so suddenly breeching that your body locks up and you let out a scream.

“shh, i got you.” rafe kisses along your mound as you work through it, pussy clenching around his fingers as he scissors them, knowing he needs you looser to fit inside.

“that-” you gasp out, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “that was so good.” “yeah?” rafe smiles up at you. “i can keep helping you feel that way, baby.”

“mhm.” you nod, not sure how you’ll ever go without now that you’ve felt the high that rafe can get you.

“can i fuck you now?” he questions. as much as he’s ready to go right now, if he has to build you up to allow him inside bare, he would wait.

“yeah.” your voice is dripping with eagerness. “yeah, yes please. just need a drink of water first.”

you sit up slightly, going to reach for your water bottle on your bedside table, but rafe moves quicker, helping you bring the bottle to your lips and suck the water down, pulling away with a gasp as a drop of water glides down your chin, reaching your throat before rafes tongue is on your skin, tasting the sheen of sweat as he follows the wet trail up to your lips, kissing you to keep your mind occupied.

he works his pants and underwear off while you’re wrapped up in the kiss, your hands stroking through his hair, playing with the strands. 

rafe moves your legs to wrap around his hips as he holds onto his cock, swiping it through your folds. he taps the head against your sensitive swollen clit, making you pull away with a gasp.

“stay nice and relaxed for me, baby.” rafe says, pressing kisses to your jaw as he lines up with your entrance. he pushes in slowly, your eyes clenching shut as your chest moves up and down with each breath, trying to keep your body relaxed like rafe said.

“there ya go.” rafe says, halfway inside your cunt. “good girl.”

he pushes as far in as your pussy allows, both of you sitting in that moment, relishing in the feeling of being joined together as you stretch to accommodate his large length, shifting your hips side to side and up and down to get used to the feeling.

“i gotta move, baby.” rafe says, his voice sounding strained.

“yeah, go ahead.” you nod. despite your affirmation, rafe continues to move slowly, his hips swinging back before pressing forward, carefully building up a rhythm.

“it feels really good.” you tell rafe, your cheeks flushed bright pink, hair fanned out on the pillow around you like a glowing halo.

“yeah, yeah.” rafe nods rapidly, his grip on control quickly loosening. “you feel so good too.”

rafe knows he should stop, but he loves the way your body reacts to his dirty words. “you’re so tight around me. i love this pussy. so much better than your mamas. gonna give me a baby, right?”

“i-yeah.” you nod. “fill me up.”

rafes loosening control shatters, his hips swinging forward fast, burying his cock inside of you as the pace instantly triples. you let out a squeal, the sheets gripped in your hands as he pounds into you.

“gonna fill up your pretty little cunnie, baby.” rafe grunts out, his own forehead sheening with sweat from his effort, his muscles straining as he pushes up then down, up then down.

“want it so bad.” you whine. 

“fuck.” rafe gasps out, mouth dropping open, his lips shiny from eating you out. “can’t last much longer. gonna cum.”

you experiment, clenching your pussy around his cock, and judging by rafes reaction of a loud moan and curse, you can tell he likes it. you continue, squeezing every time he pulls out, wanting to keep his cock wrapped in your warmth.

“i-im cumming.” rafe gasps out, his cock growing inside of you before your eyes widen, suddenly feeling warmth spreading as his cum fills you, his cock pressing in even harder, hoping it reaches your womb.

“god.” rafe groans, lowering his body on top of yours, but you don’t care about the weight as you smile.

“we’re gonna keep doing that?” you ask, running your hand down his back.

rafe looks up at you. “oh, of course baby. gonna keep fucking you while you’re pregnant too, maybe you’ll give us twins.”

you roll your eyes and giggle at rafe. “thats not how it works, silly!” “oh, what do you know?” rafe smirks at you. “you haven’t even had sex before!”

“well… i have now.” you mumble, shifting your hips from side to side, rafes cock still lodged deep inside of you.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra

[plumiechim]

Fuck the pain out [JJK] [m]

PAIRING: Jungkook x female reader

GENRE: Halloween party, smut, angst if you consider, pwp

WARNING: masked shit (ghostface), he is masked, unprotected sex, oc is js sad, he likes her, blowjob, lil fluff talk and blah blah

SUMMARY: Maybe ghostface will fuck your sadness away tonight.

W.C: 1.3k

A/N : Halloween and yet no man masked as ghostface to fuck me so why not write about it. Enjoy!

I was so broken by that point I didn't even give a fuck who the man kissing my neck was. He told me he'll make me feel good, treat me good tonight, maybe help me forget that I'm a fucking shattered piece of soul.

I can't even tell how he looks because his face is concealed by an intimidating mask. "I'm ghostface." was how he'd introduced himself to me while I was alone by myself smoking a joint at this halloween party my friends brought me to.

Having to see a person you've always loved deep down in your heart for years with another girl feels like shit even though I know I have no right to feel that way.

We're in the dark, now that his mask is off, I can't really see his face but I can feel the jewel on his lip momentarily graze my neck-

Wait.

I know who that jewel belongs to.

My eyes shoot open and my hands slide to his shoulders. I croaked, "Are you sure you wanna-." His lips shut me off before I speak any further.

A soft whimper leaves my mouth as his lips delve deeper into my mouth, "So broken, so needy." His lips graze against mine. "It's okay baby, I'll make you forget him tonight."

The way he assured me, gosh. I softly slipped my hands cupping the girth of his neck, I could feel him looking at me. I took my lips down his jaw as I slipped my palm to the back of his head and trailed kisses up to the corner of his lips.

"Kiss me." His whispers were all that I needed to press my lips against his. His hand roughly grabbed me by my neck as he hungrily devoured my lips.

His passionate kiss kept me busy as he slowly lowered us onto the mattress, him nestled between my legs as he trailed kisses from my lips to my chin, my jaw down to my cleavage.

"You need someone to worship you." His murmur tickles my skin and I suck in a sharp breath. "Understand you." A stinging sensation of his teeth slightly nipping on my skin, yet I love it. "Validate you." He continues his abuse on my skin. "Love you." Maybe its the joint that's heightening my senses and making me extremely sensitive to everything I was feeling. I wanted him. Bad. "You need commitment." He tugs onto my pants.

Oh my.

I push him off of me as he stands at the edge of the bed. Even though I can't really see I can sense him. I can sense him looking at me. A little surprised, confused at the same time. I can feel his chest raising and falling rhythmically with his loud erratic breaths.

I undid the buttons of his shirt one by one ascending, while his fingers tangled and played with my hair.

It was as if he was sculpted, body so perfect, muscles in right places. My tongue brushed over his abs leaving wet kisses as I went lower and tugged on the band of his Calvin Kleins.

As I pulled down his boxers, I could feel him tightening his grip on my locks. I get off the bed down on my knees as I spit on his cock and sensually lick the tip then proceed to slowly put him in my mouth.

His tatted arm fists my hair. His girth barely fitting into my mouth, but I still make an attempt to bob my head. His moans were so pretty, so hot, made me wanna go deeper and harder. The vibrations of his vocalization revert to the back of my throat.

I'm loving the fact that I'm making him feel good. I slowly get used to his girth and start working my mouth on him in all the ways I can. The way he's tugging on my hair kinda stings but that is something I can easily overlook.

"Fuck, you're so good." I can feel my own arousal spasming through my insides as i can feel him twitching in my mouth. "I'm not gonna last much." He moans as he pulls out of my mouth and grabs my hair, not by extreme but strong enough to yank me to the bed. He crawls, spreading my legs open and resting between my thighs.

I let out a small whimper as my back meets the surface of the mattress. He wastes' no time in ripping me off of my clothes and throwing them across the room. "I'm not going soft on you." He whispers as his thumb plays with my lower lip. I gently wrap my lips around his finger and flick it out. "I don't want that either." I breathe out.

"Baby, I wanna fuck you mad. Like an animal."

"You better do."

I physically jerk at the feeling of his fingers grazing my glistening cunt. I bite my lips as he slides his hand up my folds and slowly inserts his finger in me.

He goes slow at first but then shows no mercy, plunging his fingers in and out of me. His lips press against mine as he swallows my moans.

"I want you. Please." I breathe out and that's all he needed to pull his fingers out of me and reach out for the piece of latex.

I stop him. "I want you raw in me."

"If you do that then I can't fucking pull out-"

"I want you to not." I cut him off and I can see his silhouette, his neck cranking sideways putting on the mask he possessed, and I feel his girth in me and his tatted arm presses me down to the pillow by my neck.

"Baby you feel so good." He reaches down to kiss my thigh from under the mask as he starts with his thrusts.

Divine is what I would like to call this feeling. He felt so good I couldn't help but let out obscene noises. He felt divine. His moans, his breath, his thrusts, him inside me. It was all so hot.

My back arched as his thrusts got insanely deep and hard. His grip on my neck tightens and I feel our arousal dripping down my thighs.

"Mine." he grunts. "You're mine."

This was unusual for me. Cumming so fast like this. But I could already feel the tightening sensation and I can no longer assure that I am sane. My eyes roll to the back of my head as I take full pleasure of the feeling of him inside me, shaking vigorously underneath him syncing with his animalistic thrusts. As he leans down, I lift his mask a little to let him peck my neck. I can see veins popping on his neck, from the illumination from the window. His face and neck flushed pink.

"Baby you gonna cum?" I nod. He slows down. I whimper. "I need words, love." He smirks on my skin. "I'm gonna cum." I blurt out, my hips desperately trying to create some sort of stimulation.

But my pathetic attempt fails as he grabs my hips, restoring his thrusts. And I no longer am able to hold it in me. I unfold shaking under him, clenching hard. "Yeah baby, come all over my cock." He coos, his thrusts again going gentle.

But that was short lasted as he started chasing his own orgasm. Overstimulating but I loved the way he was desperately snapping his hips against mine. "Fuck if you clench on me like this- fuck." and with the hottest moan, he cums in me. His mask now off of him, hot sweaty body pressed against mine, his wet strands tickling my breasts. and his lips on my skin.

He takes a few minutes to regain his breath. "So you staying for the night or not." He says as he turns on the dim lamp from the nightstand.

His expression soon turns into a slight disappointment seeing the uncertainty in my face.

[wyldthots]

Mommy's Day Off

Trigger warnings: incest, dubcon, intoxcon, oral(f!r), Dom mommy, corruption kink if you squint. If any of these things trigger you, do not interact. MDNI.

Mommy and I hardly ever get time for a 'mommy & me day' with how much she works. Since she got married and we moved, she had to start working a second job to help cover the cost of new bills. Today is a rare day off for her, but since my new stepdaddy has to work it's just us girls today.

Since mommy doesn't get a ton of days off, we only do stuff that we want to do. The things we need to do can happen another day. Today we decided to lay on the couch and binge movies. I saw mommy eat a candy as she settled in on the couch. They were one of her "relaxation candies". I had asked before to have one and she had said no. Today, though, she offered me one.

"If you eat this candy, you have to behave so well for mommy. She only gets this one day off and you need to be good." I promise not to ruin mommy's day off, and the gummy had a weird aftertaste if I'm being honest...

Mommy has been so nice to me lately when we go to sleep. Says she's still "making up for lost time" by helping me feel good. While we watch our movies, mommy lays close to me on the couch and keeps running her fingertips over any exposed skin; my calves, up my thighs, tickles along my ribs, working her fingers up my neck and through my hair.

It's been about an hour since our lazy day started and my breathing gets heavy as I feel this weird pressure in my head.

"Oh, baby... That candy is doing its job on you." Mommy cups my face in her hands and tilts my face up to softly press kisses to my jaw and lips. "Tell mommy how you feel, baby. Help mommy enjoy her day."

"I need you. Mommy, I'm so tingly. Need you to touch me like you do." I gasp out my desires as I struggle to keep my eyes open. These relaxation candies are really strong...

I don't know how much time has passed, but I know this is the best I have ever felt. My clit is throbbing and so sensitive. Oh, everything is so wet... and it finally clicks that mommy is licking my pussy. My back arches and mommy buries herself deeper in me. Her strong tongue caresses and flicks at my clit before splitting my folds and shoving her tongue and two fingers deep into me. I'm lost in my pleasure as my hips ride my mommy's face while she cheers me on to finish.

She pops the suction off my clit. Mommy works her way up my body licking and biting to her heart's content. Her fingers piston into me while her thumb rubs my clit and her hot mouth is suckling on my nipple. "mph, fuck. So good. Oh, can do so much more with you now..." Mommy's voice is muffled by the pounding in my ears and my nipple shoved in her mouth.

My body goes through a hard reset. Hot liquid courses through me as my body quakes and a frantic harmony of "ah, ah, ah ahhh, aaahhh" leaves my lungs as I have the most intense orgasm of my life. My body goes completely lax as the world around me goes dark. I am nudged awake with the consistent lapping at my sensitive pussy and groan while pushing away the head between my legs.

"Baby, that was so good. You can keep having candies if that's how horny a little pot makes you." Mommy grabs under both of my knees and pushes them down and out while her eyes never stray from my cunt. "I'm gonna fuck you with my strap next. Maybe I'll teach you how to lick mommy's pussy and we can really have fun today." Mommy chuckles while she returns her mouth to my drippy pussy.

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

just luke discovering he might have a praise kink with you. lord have mercy.

warnings: praise kink, dom!luke, pet names, unprotected p in v (don’t), oral s3x (m receiving)

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

“Ah. Fuck, baby, do that again”

Luke let out another strangled moan when you gagged around his cock, your throat tightening. He couldn’t believe you would do anything he asked you to.

It happened every single time. You would literally say yes to anything, the only thing he was sure you were not gonna agree to, was to having sex with him.

Boy, was he wrong.

Now he had you on your knees in his cabin, gagging around him over and over again until he wanted to ask you to stop, but how could he? Everything about this was heavenly to him; your warm mouth, the tears in the corner of your eyes, your swollen lips, your nails digging into his thighs whenever you felt him too deep inside your mouth, his hand wrapping around your hair in a loose ponytail and push your head further into him.

But this wasn’t about him, as much as he wanted it to be. He had promised to fuck you earlier during a potent training session, a promise you would not let slip from your mouth until it happened. And it didn’t, yet.

And he didn’t know why he said it, he really didn’t know, but the way your eyes lit up as if he was a god you could worship, the way there was a sparkle held in them, so bright yet so appealing. You looked inviting to him, he wanted to eat you alive, but he knew that things had flipped the other way around when he said it. He had just gently asked you to stop sucking him off; that was it. But Gods, what came after…

“There you go” he cooed, gently pushing your head back. “Good girl”

It made your guts spin in a way it never happened before.

Luke didn’t know what got into you. You were suddenly out of breath, your chest pressed against your tight t-shirt suddenly stopping its movements and you just stared at him in awe.

He got scared.

“Are you okay?” he gently asked, attempting to place a stray of your hair behind your ear, but he only reached to cup your jaw before you spoke.

“Call me that again”

He tilted his head, confused.

“What?”

You sighed. “Call me that again” you repeated, voice thick with desperation. “Please?”

Luke hesitated, unsure or what to make of your request. His mind raced with questions, but deep down, he couldn´t deny the thrill that suddenly coursed through his body. He leaned in, elbows resting on his knees, as he raised one of his fingers to trail it down your jaw. “Good girl” he said.

The effect was instantaneous. Your breath hitched, and your eyes fluttered shut at his tender touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

A dark chuckle erupted from him, a mean action. A fucking praise kink, you had to be joking. He didn´t know how to feel about it, mainly because he didn´t expect you to be into this type of stuff. But as he started to dig into his mind; how your cheeks flustered red when someone complimented your skills, how you smiled sweetly whenever people praised your new techniques, or the way you styled your hair, or how good you dressed. He had it all in front of his nose and never saw it.

But he also realized, you didn´t want this from anyone. You wanted it from him; his words, his validation, his encouragement, his approval. You wanted him to tell you how good you were, you wanted him.

He brushed his thumb over your lip. “My beautiful baby” he whispered with desire. “All you want to be is good to me, right?”

You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks flushing red. Your heart raced with excitement when you nodded eagerly, unable to deny the truth on his words. All you wanted was to please him, to be everything he wanted and more. You saw his grin widened when he flickered his eyes into yours, then back to your lips. He leaned in more, brushing his pink and puffy lips against yours.

“You´re so needy for me” he murmured in a seductive tone. “But I like it. I like knowing that what you crave are my words. That you´ll do anything to please me”

Your body hummed in anticipation due to the intensity of his words. You tried to lean further into his touch, you wanted more. Luke´s finger trailed down the column of your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Tell me what you want, baby” he whispered.

Your head was spinning, leaving you breathless for a moment. “I want you” you confessed in a tiny voice. “I want you to take me, to show me that I´m yours”

“Show you that you´re mine?” he repeated, the mockery evident in his voice. But your eyes glistened, shining with tiny tears due to the previous work he had put you through, and because of the sudden fear that you might have taken it too far. It wasn´t your fault though, it was what you felt. The need to please Luke in any way you could was always there, always with you, and now that you had the chance to do it, you and only you, you didn´t wanna miss it. So, as you looked up at him in awe, mesmerized by his features and figure, like a god, he pressed his thumb over the tiny bit of mascara that had escaped your eyes, removing it, he said; “I can do that”

And he did.

It was not hard to fall into Luke Castellan´s arms and have the need to stay there forever. He was poison, intoxicating in the best possible way. His scent, his touch, his presence —, everything about him had you under his spell, captivated by his allure, by the need to belong to him completely.

With one hand pressed on the back of your head and the other holding a tight grip on your hip, Luke moved with a primal, almost animalistic intensity that left you gasping for air in between the pillows. He sent waves through your body with each thrust, along with a tight feeling on your belly every time the tip of his cock hit that sweet spot.

And his words never seemed to stop.

“You´re doing so good, doll. Behaving like the good little girl you are” he murmured under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

He had gotten rid of your clothes long ago, after giving you the most intense orgasm thanks to his skilled tongue and fingers, now the only piece of clothing covering your body being your panties, messily pulled to the side, growing damp at scratching Luke´s cock with every snap of his hips.

He was growing his praise to you unconsciously, he had to close his eyes many times to prevent himself from exploding into you. You were just so fucking beautiful, he could just cum due to the sight of you; your hair messily flying over your sweaty back, your hands gripping the sheets, the way your flesh squished together when you squirmed or when his hand would grip tighter.

He had to let you know, eventually. “This fucking body is a crime, baby” he cooed. “It´s so perfect. You´re perfect, taking my cock so fucking well”

Luke´s words sent a cold jolt through your body, electrifying every nerve and sending you further into ecstasy. You felt his words dripping down your spine, flames burning like the intense desire in between you two.

“God, Luke” you managed to choke out. “Don´t stop, please”

He responded with a low growl, his movements becoming more urgent as he began to chase down his own release. Your cunt tightened around him more every time, gripping on his cock inside you in a wet and warm embrace that dripped down your thighs. Each thrust was more intense than the last, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

As your bodies moved In perfect synchrony, the room filled with the sound of skin to skin, punctuated by the symphony of your moans and Luke´s ragged breaths.

“I can´t hold back much longer” Luke confessed, his voice strained with effort. “You feel too damn good”

You clung to him desperately, nails digging into the flesh of one of his thighs as you urged him on. And then, with a final, desperate cry, you tumbled over the edge, body twitching momentarily. Luke followed close behind, his own climax crashing over him like a wave, and inside you.

As your pleasure subsided, you collapsed into each other´s arms, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths as you lay there, bodies still sweaty and shaky due to the aftershock of such an electric moment.

You laughed then, a hand covering your face. “What?” Luke asked, a confused smile painted on his face.

“Nothing” you shrugged off, turning your neck towards him, a shy smile in your mouth. “You´re too good at this”

[starkeysprincess]

you and drew are friends but also more than just friends someone recorded them making out at a bar the vid made its rounds on social media

pairing: drew starkey x reader

warnings: none

Everyone knew you and Drew were friends, the two of you became close after having to work together for months for a film you starred in. After the movie released, the two of you were often spotted together. The handful of interviews have shown the world just how compatible both of you were and fans loved your friendship.

What people didn’t see behind the cameras was how flirty you were with one another. Your relationship teetered on the verge of friends and more than friends. It didn’t help that both of you loved physical touch, everyone that knew you and Drew could see how touchy both of you were with each other.

Mutual friends have witnessed and experienced that you and Drew always had to be touching each other, whether it was your legs brushing against each others, hands barely grazing together or hugging. It was obvious to close friends and family that the two of you were on the verge of being more than friends.

You and Drew got together and hung out as much as possible so it was no surprise that the two of you were spotted having dinner together at a bar.

The night had been going great for both of you. It was filled with nothing but flirtatious comments and laughter. The amount of times you had to grab onto him, almost on the verge of tears from laughing so much was too many to count.

“Okay, stop making me laugh so much because my face is starting to hurt” you giggle lightly, catching your breath as you wipe the single tear from under your eye. “You have a contagious laugh, I can’t help it” he chuckles, moving his hand towards your face, thumb lightly tapping at your tear to ensure he doesn’t mess up your makeup.

“Thank you” you smile, “You have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen” he grinned, his fingers moving to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Everything about you is pretty” he whispered, his hand gently cupping the side of your face and you look away from him as you can feel the heat creeping up onto your cheeks.

It wasn’t until your eyes shifted to look back at him when you realized just how close his face was to yours. His eyes flicker down to look at your lips before looking back into your eyes while you do the same. He leans forward, your lips inches apart, “I really want to kiss you” he mutters, his thumb stroking your cheek softly as he looks at your lips again.

All it took was the words, “I’m not stopping you” to slip out of your mouth for him to close the gap between the two of you, his lips capturing yours. Your lips move against his, manicured nails cupping the back of his neck while his hand cradles your face pulling you closer into him. It felt like time stopped the longer he kissed you.

You and Drew were too entranced with one another to notice someone recording. As soon as the video was posted, it circled around online. By the next morning, gossip magazines were all over it and the video was everywhere, leaving fans surprised.

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