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ceesimz · 6 months

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Golden Key To The Sweet Life

Part 2

There was something intoxicatingly endearing about the way Alexia interacted and whole-heartedly cared for her family and friends' children. Not to say you expected anything less, but you had been addicted to seeing it when you first met her and you are still addicted to it, if not more, now that you were a good few years into your relationship with her. Everytime you saw her with another's child, or when she would visit the Barca youth teams, or simply just talk with a young fan who gazed up at her like she was the Queen of the world, something ignited in your heart. Something strangely akin to the feeling of being homesick.

Over the course of your relationship, you two had had countless conversations about having children in the future. However, it was always ended with you both saying 'one day', it was never a concurrent topic. It was a dream, an ideal, never a reality.

But you just could not get it out of your mind anymore; the thought of her with your own children infiltrated your mind everytime you looked at her.

"Ale, I think I would like to have children soon."

It was blurted out whilst you both manuevered around the kitchen as you made a birthday cake for your friend's son and Alexia prepared some other small dishes to take along to his party. You saw the taller woman freeze in your peripheral vision but you were too nervous to look at her, so you continued mixing the ingredients in the bowl, acting as if you hadn't just said the words she'd secretly been thinking recently too. Then, to your surprise, she marched over, took the wooden spoon from your hand, placed it back in the bowl, and tenderly cupped your face.

"What do you mean?" She asked in an odd tone, scarily similar to the one she used when you would argue. It was hushed, flat, low, and slightly strict.

"I, um... I think we should talk about... us having kids together. Soon." You replied, your cheeks red under her hands. Her nostrils flared and her eyes went slightly wide.

"You mean that?" The look in her eyes was almost pleading, and it gave you a bit of hope.

"Yes, I do." You cover her hands with your own. "I really want to at least talk about it, properly, with you. Not right now, but soon. Please."

She stays silent for a few more moments. You both just look at each other wordlessly, but you are frustratingly unable to understand the countless emotions in her eyes right now. That is until she moves suddenly, picking you up and hugging you tightly, burying her face in your neck and releasing a shaky breath. There are words being mumbled into your skin but you can't hear them too well, too busy focusing on the feeling of her around you and the prospect of the future you'd dreamed of since you were young happening sooner than you thought it ever could.

"Ale, I can't hear you." You laugh lightly, but then your breath catches in your throat when she moves her head back to look at you with tears glistening in her eyes. "Oh, Ale."

"Yes, yes, yes. I want children with you, soon, I really do." Alexia whispers as she presses her forehead against yours, her eyes squeezed shut to keep in her emotions. "Nuestros propios hijos pequeños. No se me ocurrió nada mejor." (Our own little children. I couldn't think of anything better.)

That was the moment that decided it all, the moment that sealed and stamped your future. A few months later and you had gone through the early processes of reciprocal IVF. Your individual health screenings had thankfully given positive results that would ensure your plans for the process could go ahead.

It had been a worry for both of you, admittedly more for you, and there had been multiple sleepless nights and midnight discussions to quell your worries. Your decision to carry wasn't one out of convenience for Alexia's career, it was something you were certain on since you had your first thoughts of being a Mother, but that didn't stop Alexia from worshipping the ground you walked on at the selfless decision.

As Alexia had been there to comfort you, listen to you, and reasurre you when you had appointments and insecurities, you were there for her and squeezing her hand during every injection she had, as well as her egg retrieval appointment. She had been worried for quite some time about it, but in the room, she felt quietly excited. All the moments she'd imagined of herself with children of her own felt within reach now. The tears in her eyes weren't from discomfort or pain, they were from hope and excitement of what was to come.

Unfortunately, the first transfer didn't result in a pregnancy. It was heartbreaking of course. You both knew the chances of it working first time weren't that high, but that didn't soften the blow any less. It took about a week before the melancholy lingering in the air of your home left, but after spending crucial time together to come to terms with the news, you were both ready to begin the process again.

This time around, on the 11th day after your second transfer, you woke up with a strange, knowing feeling in your gut. Alexia had left some time ago for morning training, she had woken you up briefly with softly whispered words and a kiss to your forehead, before you fell back to sleep. But as you properly woke up, a thought immediately washed over you. It caused a little bit of anxiety and you probably should have waited until Alexia got home, but you had to find out before you got her hopes up. You bet that she hadn't properly let you in about her heartbreak the first time so you wanted to do everything to prevent her from feeling how you guessed she did.

So, throwing caution to the wind, you went to the medication cupboard and grabbed an emergency box of hCG urine tests before rushing off to the bathroom. You hadn't checked your phone at all this morning, you hadn't eaten or drank anything, you didn't even know what time it was. There was one thought and one thought only that consumed you.

Once you had prepared it all, you set the strip down on the counter and washed your hands. You sat in unbearable silence for about twenty seconds before you heard the front door open. A shocked gasp left your mouth before your hands could cover it and stop the sound.

"Just me, amor!" Alexia called out softly in case you were still asleep.

She headed straight to the kitchen for a snack, not knowing the huge secret you were harbouring just metres away in the downstairs bathroom. You figured there was no escape now, you just had to bite the bullet.

"Alexia, come here please!" You shouted in an unsure, breathless voice, unable to move from your spot on the bathtub rim with a shaking hand over your mouth still.

Alexia frowned at the slightly panicked voice shouting her, so she quickly made her way to the room you were in, chewing through half a mouthful of banana as she went.

"Sí, bebé, estoy aquí, what's wro-" She cut herself off when she noticed you and the test on the counter. Her eyes widen, causing you to panic.

"I am so sorry for doing it without you, I just had a really weird feeling and-"

Alexia shushes your tearful ramble and sits beside you, wrapping one arm around your back and ushering your face into her chest with the other that she places on your cheek.

"No, no, no apologies, I am here now. No apologies, just calm down." She whispers gently as the hand on your back slowly rubs up and down. Her eyes stay wide and focused on the strip on the counter, unsure of how long it's been there but she dispels her anticipation and focuses on you. "You say you felt weird, in what way?"

"I, I don't know, I... I just woke up with a strange feeling in my stomach, like in my gut. I had to do a test, even just one of these ones and not even a proper pregnancy test, I just had to know." You speak anxiously, moving your face back from her chest to wipe at the tears on your cheeks.

"Okay, that's okay. This feeling, is it like a sick feeling or a thought?" Alexia questions, tucking some hair behind your ear.

"A thought, a gut feeling." You sniffle, resting your forehead against her neck.

"Okay. I want you to know I'm not mad or anything like that. I'm just happy to be here with you for this." She reasurres you, pressing a firm kiss against your hairline.

"I am too. But... if it hasn't worked again, I didn't want to disappoint you." You mumble insecurely, fresh tears falling again.

"Hey, no. Don't think that. I could never be disappointed with you, I would only be disappointed with the world. Not you, never you. Never ever. I promise." Alexia responds in a stern but soft voice, squeezing you tight against her.

"Thank you. T'estimo, Ale."

"I love you too, so much." She smiles at you when you look up at her again. Quickly, she kisses you lightly once, before grabbing the box of tests off the counter. "How do we read this? What number means pregnant?"

You grab your phone and get up the screenshot you'd taken minutes earlier of which measurements meant what.

"Twenty-five means pregnant." You show her the image and she reads it carefully, over and over and over, giving you insight into how desperately she wants this.

"How long has it been going?" Alexia asks, her leg beginning to bounce as the nerves creep in.

"Maybe two minutes or more? But I think we should wait a bit longer to make sure whatever the result is is certain." She nodded in agreement and put the box back down, gently using a hand to tilt your chin to look up at her.

"Remember, amor, whatever this result is, it is still early. It has only been eleven days, there is still a chance, okay? If it's good, that's amazing and we will ring the nurse to try and get an earlier blood test. If it's not good, it's okay. We will deal with whatever happens." Alexia softly reminds you, a reminder for her too, to not get too disheartened (though that it is impossible in such a situation).

"I know. I have to be though." You say the last sentence ever so quietly, but Alexia catches it. She has no more words to say though, still so unsure what the 'right' way to go about this new life experience is.

Silence falls over the room, settling heavy over you both as you hold each other and think through your individual prayers to the world in your minds. It's not until Alexia grows impatient that she stands up and takes a deep breath, standing in between your legs and cradling your head.

"I adore you, guapa. Whatever this little thing says, I will still adore you. I will probably love you more after this no matter what the result is." She states.

You nod, tears still present in your eyes, and stand up beside her. With one arm wrapped around each other, you both smile, before turning your attention to the test on the counter. The air is still in the room, the world paused and faded, all the attention on this tiny strip that held the most important information in the world.

"Twenty-three." You mumble dejectedly. Alexia grabs your phone and gets up the screenshot.

"Mira, bebé, it says anything here is a 'grey area', it's still higher than we would expect and we are doing this early. I think that could be good news." Alexia explains shakily. Once you've read through the information on your phone, your head whips around to look up at her. She meets your gaze, a small and positive smile gracing her face. "I do think we should ring the nurse."

"Really?" You choke out with a quivering bottom lip, desperately trying to suppress the wave of hope that washed over you at Alexia's words.

"Yes, really."

"Oh my." You breathe out, knocking your phone out of her hand carelessly as you hug her tightly. "I might be pregnant."

"You might be pregnant." Alexia repeats in a shuddery voice, eyes stuck staring at the small test on the counter that might just have changed her world for the better.

Thankfully, to prevent days of anxious anticipation, the nurse agrees to carry out a blood test the following day. It's a game day for Alexia but luckily it's at home and later in the evening. She could be going into it with the excitement of an expecting mother, or she could be filled with suffocating disappointment. It's a contrast she doesn't want to think about, the game later that evening the last thing on her mind as her hand holds yours tightly on the drive to the appointment.

Her hand doesn't leave yours unless it's absolutely necessary, and even then she's very hesitant. But, as you lay on the bed with a hand over your eyes whilst the other is still held by Alexia, a heavy feeling of dread and doubt settles. The past 24 hours had been overwhelmingly positive; neither of you allowed a moment to think anything negative. Maybe it was naïve to do that, but the prospect of it all was so utterly exhilarating that you hadn't allowed yourselves to think of the next mental steps if it you weren't pregnant.

Now though, you were drowning under the weight of it all. Alexia had noticed, of course she had, but she was suffocated by her thoughts too. There was nothing either of you could say, it was simply just a waiting game.

Waiting, waiting, waiting, the ticking of the clock on the wall being a constant reminder of the meaningful depth of the moment. Time was a precious thing, of course, but right now it felt like the biggest dampener of all.

Neither of you knew how long you had been sitting silently for, plagued by the scale of the event, but then the nurse walks in and announces she has the results, causing you to snap out of your mindset.

"Are you ready to find out?" The nurse asks, offering no hint of emotion.

"No." You whimper almost silently. Alexia turns to you and goes to comfort you immediately, but she's interrupted.

"It's good news."

Your hand falls from your face as you sit up fully, eyes wide and tearful. Alexia can't tear her eyes away from you until you nudge her, bringing her back into the room.

"I can confirm you are indeed pregnant."

Your body collapses in relief and you fall back against the bed, hands covering your face again as you sob happily. Alexia rolls you onto your side and rests her forehead against yours, tears also falling from her too.

"Tienes un bebé ahí dentro, amor." Alexia cries, almost in relief. One of her hands is on top of your head whilst the other rubs up and down your side comfortingly. "Nuestro pequeño bebé. We are a family now."

You both relish in the great news until you calm down enough to allow the nurse to give you advice on ensuring your health is as best it can be for your pregnancy to go as smoothly as possible.

Later that day, when Alexia scored in her league game at the Johan, you shook your head disapprovingly when Alexia surreptitiously rubbed her hand over her stomach whilst gazing at you in the audience as she walked back to her position. Nobody knew about the news, nobody could know for weeks, and Alexia was pushing her luck with the celebration. You couldn't stay angry for too long, never towards Alexia, and all thoughts of irritation were forgotten when, at the end of the game, she ran up the stands, enveloped you in a tight but sweaty embrace, and whispered the most heart-warming words you'd ever heard her say in your life. People gave you puzzled looks when you pulled away from her with tears in your eyes, but that didn't matter. The bubble that the two of you had was perfect.

Alexia took the advice of the nurse a bit too literally. As if she wasn't doing it already, she did everything possible for you. Cooking meals full of the right nutritions, buying the best pregnancy vitamins, trying to do all the house chores herself (you couldn't let that one slide though), and sometimes literally carrying you whenever she could. On a bad day, did it wind you up? Yes, but she had the best intentions and when the hormones weren't overriding your mind, you appreciated every single act of care and kindness from her.

As you got closer to the 7 week mark when you would have your first scan, your anxiety grew tenfold. You were a stickler for doom scrolling, and varying websites and forums had argued a thought that was the root of your worry: the chance of miscarriage was higher with IVF. Alexia of course tried to dispel your concerns, but unfortunately this was one of them things that you just couldn't get over.

So the relief you felt at the first ultrasound when it was confirmed your baby was growing strong and healthily, was overwhelming. And as soon as you heard the heartbeat, you were a goner. Whether it was the hormones or just how much this meant to you, the overjoyed tears didn't stop all day. Leaving the building with a recording of the heartbeat and a strip of ultrasound photos, neither of you can recall a time where you were happier.

Keeping such a huge secret felt impossible. You had told your parents and Alexia had told her Mum and sister a few days after you found out just so you had a support system in case anything went wrong. The senior staff of the team at Barcelona also knew in case Alexia had to put everything on hold in case of an emergency, and it was the same with your work. But other than that, everyone else was none the wiser.

At least, that's what you thought.

"Amor, I have something to admit." Alexia sighed as you both climbed into bed one night during your eighth week of pregnancy.

"Hm?" You hummed, laying down and resting your head on her shoulder.

"Don't be mad." She grimaced, one arm behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling. You frown and hold yourself up on one elbow, your other hand landing on her cheek to turn her face to look at you.

"Tell me. I doubt I'll be mad." You told her softly, and your smile automatically decreases her worries.

"Well, Mapi was the one who helped with my injections whenever I was at training." You nodded affirmatively. "I may have told her... today, at training, that you are pregnant."

"Ale, when are you going to tell me about this geeky smile that hasn't left your face?" Mapi teases her best friend as both of them tidy up the field after training.

"There is nothing, Mapi." Alexia argues, but the aforementioned smile graces her face as she does so.

"Come oooon! Tell me, I think I have a guess, but I want you to say it." Mapi grins, throwing an arm around Alexia's shoulders and nudging her in the ribs.

"I can't tell anyone yet." Alexia mumbles.

"Say it, Ale." Mapi sings in her ear. "I will not tell anyone, I promise."

"You tell anyone and I will kill you, María." Alexia says sternly, standing with her hands on her hips and glaring down at her.

"No, won't tell anyone." Mapi puts on an innocent face as she holds her hands up in surrender.

"Vale." Alexia sighs, looking down at the ground for a moment before turning back to Mapi with the biggest smile she's shown to her. "We are almost eight weeks pregnant."

Mapi screams out of pure excitement and jumps onto Alexia, the taller woman not expecting it which led to them both toppling to the grass in the middle of the empty pitch.

"I knew it!" Mapi shouts, shaking Alexia's shoulders which makes her laugh, pushing Mapi off of her hips so that they lay beside each other. "You are going to be a Mamá!"

"María! ¡Calláte! What did I just say?!" Alexia shushes her desperately, slapping her shoulder.

"You said you're having a baby! I'm gonna be a tía!" Mapi laughs giddily, kicking her legs like a child.

"I should never have told you." Alexia grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest to try and convey a stern, angry look, but it's completely futile.

"I am so happy for you. Nobody deserves this more than you." Mapi rolls onto her side to look at her best friend. "How is she doing?"

"She's so great. So happy. A little bit sick, but handling everything so well." Alexia closes her eyes as she thinks of you and the strip of ultrasound photos hanging on your fridge.

"I have no words, Ale. You both deserve it so much, to be this happy. I'm so proud of you." Mapi states, pushing away her childish side to try and have a proper moment with Alexia.

"I didn't do anything, it's all her." Alexia jokingly deflects, not wanting to get emotional when anyone could walk out and catch them.

"Ay, I didn't stab you at training for nothing." Mapi grins again.

"Sí, I guess." Alexia murmurs with a shy smile. "I am so excited. My own lit-"

"¿Qué están haciendo ustedes aquí?" A voice shouts from the door of the main building.

"Vamos. You both invite me around for dinner soon so we can celebrate and talk more, sí?" Mapi suggests, leaping up and offering a hand to Alexia who nods and stands. "¡Capi va a ser Mamá!"

You tilted your head at Alexia and smiled widely at the adorable story.

"I don't mind, Ale. She's one of your best friends, and she did help us get pregnant, technically." You told her, placing a reasurring kiss to the corner of her mouth. "But that girl cannot keep a secret. I bet Ingrid already knows."

"I knew she would tell Ingrid. But if she tells anyone else I will strangle her." Alexia grumbled with a disapproving look on her face to which you quietly laughed at.

"No you won't. I can't have my baby mama in prison for attempted murder." You joked, poking at her cheek to get her to smile, which you succeeded at.

"You are right. Por supuesto." Alexia whispered, leaning up to meet your lips in a gentle kiss. When she pulled away, she gazed at you so lovingly that it took your breath away. "Venga, lay down and get comfy. You need sleep to look after our chiqui."

You smiled bashfully and lay on your side facing away from her, to which she shuffled up behind you and draped an arm over your side. Her hand settled on your stomach of course, a new gesture you could never get over, so you covered her hand with yours and squeezed it.

"You are going to be the best Mami, Ale." You whispered, Alexia immediately smiling into the back of your neck and placing a few kisses there.

"Tú también." She mumbled, speaking her beliefs whole-heartedly.

Due to Alexia's busy schedule and her understandable defiance to miss an appointment, you both didn't have an aligned day off together for another scan until the fifteenth week of pregnancy. In the past two weeks, you had both told everyone in your life that you were expecting a baby. It was difficult to do since Alexia had to travel a lot, most of the time it was you meeting up with family or friends with Alexia on a FaceTime call, but it was still incredibly special nevertheless.

Today though was an important day; not only a check-up for the baby and yourself, but it would also be the day to found out the gender. You weren't too fussed about finding out or not, but Alexia was not a very patient person, she would plan out every step of her life if she could. So it was an easy decision, you would have the check-up scan, do a blood test, then go about the rest of your day whilst waiting for an email from the nurse.

Seeing the baby much more developed and bigger was of course an emotional moment, nothing in your life so far could compare.

"Míralo, dios mío. Mi bebé." Alexia said quietly, clutching your hand as she gazed at the screen showing the ultrasound. "I am so glad it is just one."

You laughed and shook your head at her comment, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the same.

"They have your legs, Ale." You smiled softly as you watched your baby kick their legs away on the screen. It wasn't possible to feel yet, but you knew in a few weeks time you would be in endless amounts of pain as the aforementioned legs kicked at you all over.

"They better like football." Alexia stated, again making you laugh.

"If they don't, you can't walk out on me." You warned her teasingly, but she took it too seriously.

"No, never, amor." She frowned, lifting your hand and pressing a firm kiss to the back of it. "They will just have to live with their Mami shouting about it every week."

"By the time they're born, it'll probably be the only sound that soothes them to sleep." You said.

The thought of that makes her smile and she falls into a daydream about it - her baby laying on her chest whilst she watches a football game, dressed in matching Barça shirts, desperately trying to keep her running commentary quiet for the baby and for you who was sleeping in the bedroom, and-

"Okay, let's do the blood tests now."

An hour later and you both were walking around Barcelona, looking at the city you love and where your family would grow. It was a waiting game now, you could get any email any second. Your plan was to wait for it to be sent, then go into a bakery and show the worker the email who would be able to give you some kind of baked treat with either blue or pink in it. Simple, yes, but it would be a moment for just the two of you (and the baker, you supposed) that you would remember forever.

So, some time later when Alexia's phone pinged with the email notification and she confirmed who it was from, you both smiled excitedly and immediately began heading towards the bakery. You picked up the small cake, thanked the baker who congratulated you many times, before heading home.

Once you were in the comfort of your own kitchen, you grabbed a fork each and sat down at the island, unable to keep your eyes off each other.

"Whatever it is, I am so happy to be doing this with you." Alexia states softly, taking your free hand and holding it tight on top of the counter.

"There's no one I'd rather do it with." You respond matter-of-factly.

"Me too." Alexia murmurs, raising your hand to her mouth so she could kiss your ring finger. "Ready?"

"Yes, come on, let's do it!" You urge her excitedly, unable to contain yourself.

"Vale, vale." Alexia laughs. "I count down from tres, sí?" You nod, a nervous smile on your face. "Tres... dos... uno."

Both of you dig your forks into the cake, cutting a chunk out to reveal that it's-

"¡Chiquitita!" Alexia shouts, jumping up from her chair. You grin at the news and at her reaction, but rather than reacting like Alexia, you simply eat the forkful of cake. "Bebíta, why are you not excited? We are having a baby girl!"

"I am excited, but I have cake in front of me, I'm not gonna just let it sit there." You say, to which she laughs and comes over to wrap her arms around your neck from behind. "A little girl, hey?"

"Sí, una niña pequeña." Alexia sighs happily, tears in her eyes as she rested her forehead on your shoulder. "I can't believe it. It feels a bit more real now."

"It was very real for me when I was throwing up every morning." You scoff, Alexia laughing again. "I get what you mean though. It feels different now that we know it's a girl. She."

Alexia hums in agreement, smiling when you offer her a forkful of cake. She accepts it and nods approvingly at it, making you grin again.

"What is that thing people say? When they have a baby and they want it to be a footballer? I think it is... project Putellas."

"Well, if she wants to be a footballer, she literally has the best person in the world to learn from." You tease, raising your free hand that wasn't devouring the small cake to rest on her forearm. "You just might want to start off by differentiating between an actual football and the shiny gold ones on display in the lounge. I have no doubt a small and excitable toddler who has a Mami kicking football around the house all day will find a golden ball very fascinating."

"I will make sure. But she can kick them all she wants, I will just get my revenge when she wins one in the future." Alexia grins, making you giggle as you squeeze her arm. "If she doesn't like football, I will only be upset for a tiny bit of time. I would just want her to be happy of course."

"She'd still go to every one of your games and would want to go with you when you aren't playing. Just like you and your Papi." You remind her gently, to which she smiles a little sadder this time, but nevertheless hums in acknowledgement.

"Ah... she. I cannot believe it." Alexia slides one hand down to rest on your ever-growning yet still small stomach. There was a bump, but in the majority of your clothes it wasn't quite visible yet.

"Now we have to start thinking of names." You say, finally turning your attention away from the cake and spinning around in the chair to face her. She groans and pulls you to stand up, then taps the back of your thighs to urge you to jump into her arms, to which you do. "What's up with you?"

"Names is the hardest part." She grumbles, leading you to the bedroom where she places you down gently on the bed before cuddling up next to you.

"Well, get thinking, guapa. We have a little girl on the way!"

At the 24 week mark, you both decide it's time to announce it to the rest of the world. It's been amazing having it be a secret purely between you and the people you love most, but your bump is getting a bit more noticeable now and you want to be able to go out without covering up so much.

Alexia posted a simple picture to her social media of the baby's cot in the nursery, along with a tiny Barcelona shirt in it of course, and tied it off with the most recent ultrasound photos set beside the jersey. She wasn't one for sharing much of her private life, so that's all she gave. No date, no gender, no confirmation of how far along you were, and to some people it wasn't even clear if it was you or Alexia who was pregnant. The media's reaction was funny to sit back and watch as you lay in bed together that night, and it made to be even more entertaining when Alexia told you she had been lightly scolded by the club for the lack of context, but her argument was that people should know she wouldn't be playing if she was pregnant. This social media speculation was followed by a post from Barcelona making it clear that Alexia wasn't pregnant, putting all the rumours to bed at the expense of the Barca PR management who had possibly grown a few more grey hairs after the whole fiasco. But it was funny to watch and it made for a great memory, you wouldn't have it any other way.

Now, the baby has started moving more, so much so that Alexia can feel it when she holds her hands against your bump. From the moment you first told her you could feel the baby moving, she had desperately wanted to feel it too. There was a worry in the back of her mind that she wouldn't bond with her baby like a second parent figure should, considering she wasn't the one carrying. Even though the baby would genetically be hers due to the type of IVF you chose, you would bond with the baby on a whole other level that she wouldn't experience.

So, she was desperate to feel the baby move against her hand because it would be her first chance of physically experiencing the baby, unlike you who had been through that from the early days of pregnancy with the typical early-stage symptoms. When she did, when she felt the first tiny but powerful kick against her, she immediately began to cry. She didn't really clue you in on why she had such an intense reaction, not that you discredited it of course, but you had an inkling that it meant much more to her than she would ever admit.

It was rare for pregnancy to be so smooth-sailing though. As the weeks went on and your baby girl grew bigger and stronger, all whilst the both of you remained healthy, it was like the doubtful and anxious thoughts slowly left. Until you noticed something.

You were sat at dinner with your friends before all of you were due to watch Alexia and the team play a Copa De La Reina game at the Johan. You were taking a backseat from the conversation for a few minutes when a frightening realisation hit you. You frowned, holding your hands against various places on your bump, looking for a major sign that you hadn't felt in... how long? You couldn't even remember. And that was when it felt like your heart stopped.

"Chica, ¿estás bien?" Your friend asked quietly from beside you, thankfully nobody else taking notice.

"Yeah. I... I don't know." You answered shakily, hands unmoving from your stomach as you closed your eyes tight to concentrate.

"¿Es el bebé? ¿Qué ocurre?" She questioned in hushed tone.

"I... I can't feel her move." You mumbled, trying to suppress the tears already brewing. "I... she's normally moving all the time. But I haven't felt her move... at all today."

"Vale, vale. You want to go to the bathroom, somewhere private?" She suggested, to which you nodded desperately. "Okay. Let's go."

You both stand up, you still in your panicked daze as she comes up with a reason for you both to be excused, before quickly leading you to the individual bathroom at the back of the restaurant.

"I'm scared." You admitted to her, hands still firmly planted on your lower stomach where the baby normally would kick.

"It's okay, tell me what's wrong, yeah?" Your friend said, her hands on your shoulders to try and keep you grounded.

"I was just sat there and then, then I realised my baby hasn't, I haven't felt her move for a while. And now I can't remember the last time she moved. I was really tired yesterday and normally before I go to sleep she starts kicking a lot, but I don't think she did it last night because I fell asleep really quickly when her kicking usually keeps me up for a while and now-"

"Ay, calm down, chica. Take some breaths, do it with me, you need to calm down." You nodded and began to do as instructed, easing your breathing but not your anxiety. "What would you like to do? Don't feel like a burden, this is your baby you're talking about and if you are worried about her health then you must do whatever you feel you need to do to ensure she's safe."

"I... I need to talk to Ale. But she has an important game, I-"

"Alexia would want you to tell her. Forget her work, this is family. This is her little girl too, she would never play football again if it meant you and your baby were safe. Wouldn't she?" You nodded reluctantly, the tears now falling uncontrollably. "Sí. Will she be at the stadium yet?"

"Um..." You got your phone out to check the time, seeing a text from the woman mentioned who confirmed she was at the stadium without you even asking. "Yes, she's there."

"Okay, chica, I could drive you to the nurse now and you call her in the car, or I drive you to the stadium so you can be with her. Whatever you prefer, sí? Anything."

You forgot the rest of the world around you outside this one bathroom, possible solutions and outcomes passing by so quickly and convoluted it was almost impossible to land on one. Was it serious enough to pull Alexia out of a game? Were you just overthinking? Or could this be a genuine problem with the baby?

Ultimately, this was not a risk you could take.

"I need Ale. I need to talk to her." You decided, focusing on your breathing again to try and quell the nausea your anxiety was causing.

"Okay, I will drive you to the stadium. You take the keys and go straight to my car, I will tell everybody else that the plans are cancelled."

From that moment on, it's like your mind goes into shock. Everything is a distant blur, even the feeling of Alexia's arms wrapped tightly around you and Eli and Alba's hands on your back when you meet them at the stadium. You give a stuttered explanation to them, which makes Alexia's heart drop and she squeezes you tighter. She whispers words of comfort and reassurance of course, but if someone held a gun to your head and forced you to recount what she said, you'd be screwed. For all you knew, she could have said anything in the world, and you'd have no idea.

Eli and Alba drove you to the hospital whilst you and Alexia sit in the backseat, no words exchanged (or at least that's what you remember). The cityscape passed by fast as you stared blankly out the window, the moment feeling so surreal it felt as if you were living a nightmare. Your hand clutched tightly onto Alexia's, the only feeling that kept you in touch with reality as every memory you have so far of your unborn child played out in your head like a montage straight out of a film.

Images of you and Alexia in the bathroom with the test strip, you both at the blood test finding out you were 100% pregnant, having the first scan, telling your loved ones, finding out it was a little girl-

She doesn't even have a name.

She can't slip away without a name. That's unfair.

She cannot be taken away from you before you have even met her. Is the world that cruel?

"Amor, we are here." Alexia's hand leaves yours to brush away a few tears you hadn't even realised were falling. "How do you feel?"

"How... how am I supposed to feel?" You reply, almost in a whimper, and Alexia immediately understands what you mean.

"I know." Is all she says, unbuckling your belt for you.

"We will wait here." Alba smiles reasurringly at you, squeezing your knee then Alexia's.

"No hay mal que por bien no venga." Eli states, and that ignites a tiny spark of hope inside of you. (Every cloud has a silver lining.)

Hand in hand, you and Alexia walk into the Maternity ward and explain the situation to the receptionist who tells you again and again that the right thing to do was come in for a check-up. Alexia guides you over to some seats, her eyes constantly searching over your face as her arm wraps around your shoulders.

"I love you." Alexia whispers the only words she can think of right now, because what else is there to say?

She kisses your forehead before letting you tuck your face into her neck, and that's how you stayed the whole time waiting. Just in each other's arms, knowing that you had each other no matter the result of the day. The rest of the world went away; the confines of the hospital, the endless electrical sounds of machines and technological devices, people walking back and forth down the corridors, the sound of doors opening and closing, everything slithered away until it was just the two of you. No thoughts about anything else - football, family, media - solely just the two of you in this white sterile room, waiting on news that would shatter your world or paint it gold.

When your name was finally called, some unknown amount of time later, you shared a glance with Alexia, both of you holding an elixir of emotion in your eyes, before following the midwife to a patient room.

Again, you explained the situation to her whilst Alexia sat on a chair in the corner of the small room, the taller woman fidgeting anxiously as she can't be beside you to hold your hand. The midwife explained that she would do a number of tests on you first to ensure you are healthy, before doing an ultrasound for the baby.

Alexia watches with tears in her eyes as your tests are done, feeling somewhat relieved to hear there is nothing wrong with your health. Though her dread increases tenfold when the midwife brings out the ultrasound, and due to it not being a purpose-built ultrasound room, there is no large TV screen for her to see. It's only a small screen for the midwife to view, which makes her feel even more ill if that was possible. She subtly takes a few deep breaths to control herself and the nausea plaguing her whilst the midwife sets up the small machine and spreads the gel on your lower stomach.

The seconds leading up to the probe being pressed against your skin seemed to stretch indefinitely, like the laws of time bent just to purposely suspend the moment more. She held her breath, hands clenching and unclenching on her thighs as her eyes focused on you, her heart poised on the edge of a cliff between joy and utter despair. Every moment of her life so far felt like it had been built up just for this one moment here, like some sick trick of fate, until-

"And there is your baby girl, her little heart beating away happily."

There she was on the sonogram screen, perfectly fine, just getting on with her life like she hadn't caused the single most panic and fear either of you had ever felt, the tiny being causing a whirlwind of emotions before she was even born.

You broke out into deliriously relieved laughter, head thrown back against the bed as tears fell, whilst Alexia put her face in her hands and cried silently.

"Ale, come here." You plead, looking at her broken figure in the corner of the room.

Alexia instantly jumps up from her chair and goes over to you, cradling your face and ushering mumbled and scattered words of affirmation and reassurance. You both break indefinitely more when your baby's heartbeat echoes through the room, almost like her way of announcing herself and saying: 'I'm here to stay!'

The midwife explains that the reason for not feeling her move is because your placenta is positioned at the front of your stomach, meaning little girl is moving against that which subdues the feeling. But, you rest assured, because you both leave the hospital with a new and stronger recording of her heart beat and some updated photos of her. Eli and Alba spot you both heading back to the car with huge, relieved smiles on your faces so they jump out of the car to greet you. You can tell from the way Alexia deflates into her Mother's arms that the day had exhausted her just as much as it had you, and that plants a seed of doubt in your mind.

Alexia notices this as you both sit in the back of the car on the way back to the stadium, a frown forming on her face as she squeezes your hand.

"Why are you sad, amor?" She whispers to make sure only you hear it. You shake your head and look out the window, now a little embarrassed about the whole day. "Tell me, please."

"I just feel ridiculous. I pulled you out of your game for no reason." You mutter, humiliation settling in your chest.

It wasn't just Alexia who you had disrupted, it was her family, your friends, the whole of the Barça team and staff, their fans, and so many other people around the world who had been left disappointed and confused as to why she had suddenly pulled out of the match day squad. You let your anxieties get to you and ruined what was meant to be a good day for you and many other people.

"No. You had every reason to be worried. And I am so relieved you told me so that all three of us could be there for you. It is so important that you did that, no matter if the baby is healthy after all." She raises your hand to her mouth so she could kiss it softly, before placing it on your thigh and covering it with both of hers. "The fact you dropped everything and focused on our daughter is already a sign of an amazing mother. You both are so much more important than any game of football - league game, cup game, champions league final or world cup. I would do anything to make sure you are both safe, and that's what you did. As soon as you noticed something could be wrong, you did everything to keep her safe and find out she is healthy. I could never thank you enough for that."

She squeezes your hand periodically as her wide eyes assisted her in getting her point across - there was layer after layer of love present in them and when she looked at you like that, you could never doubt her.

"I really was worried. For like two weeks straight, she's been moving and wriggling in there constantly. And then all of a sudden she stops, I didn't feel a thing. Not even hiccups. It was terrifying." You say shyly, Alexia nodding in understanding. She goes to say something, but stops herself when Eli starts.

"Trust me, chiqui, I am proud of you. Ale is right, you are already displaying amazing habits of a good madre. You did the right thing and we are all so proud of you and happy that you spoke up about it. We would do anything if it meant my hija en lay y nieta pequeña were safe and healthy."

Is there any higher praise than that from a great mother already? That meant the world to hear from Eli. It almost entirely dissipated the regret you felt. You did the right thing.

"Mami is right. You are part of this family now." Alba adds, Alexia gazing at you proudly.

"Grácies, us estimo a tots." You reply confidently in Catalan, hoping it conveyed how grateful you were for them all.

Unbeknownst to you, that day plagued Alexia for almost two weeks. She thought about it every night before she went to sleep even when you were in her arms, she thought about it during training, when she stepped on the pitch, but she suppressed it. You had so much to focus on and worry about, you were growing a human for heaven's sake, she had to be strong for you and show that you can rely on her when you need it.

But, that all came falling down one night.

She had one bad game, missed one penalty, and it destroyed the demeanor she'd worked so hard on building. They didn't even lose the game, they drew 1-1 with the chance of bettering themselves for the second leg a week later, but no words could be said to make her feel any better.

The moment the final whistle blew, her face remained stoic and free of emotion. It remained that way in the changing rooms, when she met you and her family after the game, on the drive home, and all through her nightly routine. It killed you to see her like this, knowing in her mind she was reducing herself to something so miniscule and inadequate, you had to at least try and get through to her.

"Ale?" You whisper as you lay beside her on your side. She's in the same position but facing away from you, and you know it's another attempt at keeping the world locked out of her mind. "Alexia, talk to me. What do you need?"

"Estoy bien, vete a dormir." Alexia mumbles, lightly squeezing your hand that rested on her waist.

"No. Look at me, Ale." You demand gently, pulling on her hip so that she lays flat. She averts her eyes away from you, but you notice that they are bloodshot red, like she'd been silently fighting off tears. "What's going on in that mind of yours?"

"I... uh, maybe... maybe a lot." She chokes out, resting her forearm over her eyes, her final attempt at fighting this losing battle on her own.

"Let me in." You urge her, taking her wrist and moving her arm away. "Come on. Tell me what's wrong."

"There... there is too much." Alexia says, almost in a whimper. "There is so much happening in my head."

"We can try and unpack it, hey? You're not going to be able sleep like this, you never do, so let's try and sort through some of your worries." You sit up against the head board and move her so that her head rests on your thigh. You recognise that she needs a few moments to collect herself, so you let her do that, silently combing a hand through her hair until she was ready.

"Well, first, I played like shit." She chuckles in spite of herself, making you smile sadly and lean down, despite the awkward angle and your bump, to place a kiss on her temple. "But... I can't change that now. That... it caused me to feel like this, but I'm not really thinking about that anymore."

"What are you thinking about, my love?"

"I... the baby." She sighs, bringing a hand up to her face as she turned to hide in your leg.

"What about her?" You probe carefully, your free hand subconsciously falling to your bump.

"We thought... we thought we lost her."

That statement breaks her, her first time saying it out loud, and now her body shakes as broken sobs rip through her.

"I know, Ale, I know." You shift back down the bed so that you can hold her. She tucks her face into the space between your neck and shoulder as her tears wet the pillow. The arm of yours she wasn't laying on wrapped around her, holding her tight against you, turning to place kisses under her ear. "She's okay, we saw her and heard her, she's healthy. In fact, I can feel her wiggling around in there. Here, give me your hand." She leans back so that she can see you place her hand over where the baby was moving at the side of your stomach. You pause for a few moments, Alexia waiting with bated breath, desperate to feel her daughter once more. "Oh, there she goes!" You smile brightly as a hard kick hits against Alexia's hand, who laughs breathlessly at it. "See? She's alright, isn't she? If you listen closely, you can hear her saying 'Mírame, Mami, I'm okay! Don't cry!'"

Alexia laughs again, though it sounds more like a choked sob, and buries her face back into your neck.

"You..." Alexia breathes out, smiling again when she feels another kick. "You are both perfect."

"Mm, I think you're pretty great too." You tease, nuzzling your cheek against her hair. "Is there anything else you're worried about?"

"Y-yeah." She mutters, her thumb stroking over your skin. "There's just so many worries I have. Not about her, not really, but... what if I'm not good enough?"

You'd be lying if you said you weren't shocked to hear that. And it breaks your heart.

"Ale, look at me." You place a hand on her cheek when she moves away to meet your eyes. "Why do you think you won't be good enough?"

"I can be a mess. I get frustrated easily and I have no idea how to care for myself, how can I care for a tiny, innocent baby?" She spits the words out like she's disgusted at herself and it's almost unbearable to hear.

"Alexia, you are being unfair to yourself." You state, hearing her sigh frustratedly. "I can be a mess too, I get angry too, you're only human, Alexia. You know how to take care of me, you do it so well, no one has ever treated me better than you do. You have so much love to give and I cannot wait to see you become a parent. I wouldn't want to have children with you if I didn't think you were good enough. In fact, I think you're going to be an amazing parent. Every step along the way already, through my pregnancy and the process of getting pregnant, even before that, I knew you were going to be great. And that belief only grows stronger whenever I see you with other children, like Mateo or my friends' kids. I don't have a single doubt about you, not one."

"But what if I don't bond with her?"

"Love." You sigh, holding a firm kiss against her forehead. "You will. I know I'm the one carrying her, but she's your baby just as much as mine. She's got all your genetics, of course you're going to bond with her." You poke her in the side teasingly, pulling a half-hearted chuckle from her. "I know she will adore you so much. She'd be crazy not to. You do realise you're gonna be the cool parent out of us two?"

"What?" She asks humourously.

"You're definitely the cooler parent out of us, think about it! Imagine her seeing you play football on TV every week, people with your name on their shirts, whole stadiums chanting your name, trophies and medals all around the house, she's gonna go to school and be like 'My Mami is famous!'" You grin whilst speaking, delighted to her Alexia laugh like she normally does.

"Stoooop." She groans, but you know it's in good nature. Another sigh leaves her lips, but this time it's a little less heavy and a bit more content. "You will be cool too."

"Thanks." You laugh and from that you feel her smile into your skin. "Do you feel a little better, cariño?"

"Sí. You are magic." Alexia responds, her head a lot less clouded. Now, it's filled with pictures of her little family of three, and it cheers her up more than anything ever has. "I love you. Thank you for... for everything, amor. Seriously."

You roll back onto your side, Alexia doing the same, and your hand falls to her neck. Your foreheads rest against each other, Alexia's hand still lingering on your bump, and you smile at the lighter look in her eyes.

"You don't have to be strong all the time. You can let go- you need to let go sometimes." You remind her, and when she goes to reply to that, you speak before she can as you know what she's going to argue. "Ah, no, I'm not hearing it, I know what you were going to say. And it's not true, it's not fair on you. I'm your partner after all, Ale. Yes, I'm carrying a baby, but that doesn't lessen any of your problems. I will always have time for you, Alexia, whatever you need, whenever you need it."

Alexia finally backs down and allows your words to mend the cracks in her mind, getting rid of that doubtful devil on her shoulder.

"Thank you. Just... thank you." Alexia mutters, seemingly allowing her post-match exhaustion to overpower her.

"Anytime, I promise. Now get some sleep, alright? You've kept me awake past my bedtime, even little one has stopped her night-time kicking now." You joke, glad to see she mirrors the smile you have and her body relaxes, the tension from the match and the past weeks finally leaving her. "Te amo. Siempre."

By the time June came around, Barça had basically wrapped up every single competition, it being yet another clean sweep for the record-breaking team. That included the Champions League, to which you had to almost force Alexia to go out and celebrate with her team, your argument being that it would be the last chance she got before her life was filled with baby bottles and diapers instead of shot glasses and night clubs.

It was fortunate that the team had done what they did when they did, because it was like once the clock struck midnight of the month of June, your baby girl had decided she'd had enough of her comfy little home and wanted to see what the real world was like. One minute, you were using the bathroom in the middle of the evening at home, the next minute you were in a patient gown on a hospital bed clutching Alexia's arm with one hand and some gas and air with the other.

There were thirteen hours between your waters breaking and the first cry of your daughter. Alexia had tears in her eyes the moment you stepped into the hospital room, but that was nothing compared to the tears that fell like a waterfall when your baby was placed on your chest. She rested her temple against yours and gazed down at the tiny being that you both had created. In her mind, she knew there was no better sight.

Once the initial check-ups were done for both you and your daughter, the business calmed down and it allowed for Alexia to hold her for the first time. Your little girl weighed a mere 6 pounds 11 ounces, but those numbers didn't do it justice - she looked miniscule in the arms of Alexia.

"Hi." Alexia croaked out in a tearful voice, making sure her arms were steady and that her little girl was positioned correctly. Yet to have her first sleep, the baby's brown eyes stared widely up at her Mami.

"Suits you." You commented tiredly, thoroughly exhausted but there was no way you could rest right now when this sight was beside you. You wouldn't miss it for the world.

"Bon día, A-" Alexia glances up at you briefly. "Are we still choosing that name? I think it's perfect for her."

"Yes. So perfect." You smile at your two favourite people.

"Bon día, little Anaís." Alexia whispers, using the back of her index finger to run it ever-so-gently along her daughter's cheek.

It's such a sacred moment for Alexia, like it would be for any parent, as she cradles her new little bundle of joy against her chest. Being able to put a face to the name you'd chosen a few months ago now, putting a face to the offender of the brutal blows her Mama had been subjected to for two months, and finally bonding with her child - it was all overwhelming in the best way possible.

The weight of her daughter in her arms brought a greater comfort than anything in her life. Every tiny feature, from the delicate curve of her little button nose to the hands that fidgeted delicately against Alexia's chest, is a glorious sight to behold. Alexia feels her heart grow impossibly bigger as she traces the outline of Anaís' face with trembling fingertips, already trying to commit every detail to her memory.

You watch along in silent awe, your eyes glistening with unshed tears at the sight you'd been desperate to see for so long. There is so much admiration and wonder in Alexia's eyes, and you felt your love for the two humans in front of you reach limits you never thought it could.

"Come here." You say, shuffling over to one side of the bed and patting the free space now available. Alexia nods, eyes unmoving from the baby in her arms, and moves slowly and carefully to lay next to you. "Oh, look at her, Ale."

"You did amazing, amor. So strong and so incredible. Look what you did." Alexia praises you and kisses your forehead for what must be the thousandth time that day. You smile and lean your head to rest on her shoulder, one of your hands coming to rest on the back of Anaís' head. "Our little chiqui. Dios mío, she is so small."

"I can't believe those tiny feet almost broke my ribs." You say, giggling along with Alexia as she laughs too and holds both of Anaís' feet in the palm of her hand.

"I love her already." Alexia states, able to stroke one thumb over both of her feet.

"Me too." You hum, adjusting the small knitted hat that covered her head. "She has your eyes."

"Mm, those are definitely Putellas eyes." Alexia grins, gasping quietly when Anaís' tiny fist curls around her pinky finger. "Amor, mirar."

"I see." You watch the interaction in awe, feeling so blessed in this moment. "I told you she would adore you. She's so at peace with you."

Alexia smiled tearfully in reply as Anaís' eyes slowly fluttered shut in her arms.

"I adore her too." Alexia whispers, then she turns to look at you. "Thank you for giving me the greatest gift of all. I'm so proud of you. So so proud."

You smile bashfully at her words and turn to hide your face in her shoulder, stifling a yawn. The exhaustion was really hitting you now, but who in their right mind would pass up a moment like this?

"Thank you for being the best partner I could ask for. I wouldn't have gotten through it without you." You mumble into her jumper, wrapping a hand around her upper arm and settling down more.

"We must dress her in the Barcelona onesie when we take her home." Alexia states with a smug smirk, causing you to laugh and shake your head a little.

"There's no point even arguing, is there?" You say, giggling when she hums a polite no. "Fine, I'll allow it."

"We have to teach her early, amor." Alexia argues.

"Of course we do." You say sarcastically, a yawn slipping out of you.

"You can rest now. I will take the first shift, hm? You sleep as much as you can." Alexia suggests, glad to see you nod. "Want me to stay here?" You nod once more, and a content smile settles on her face. "I love you, rest well."

It takes a little while for you to fall asleep, not able to get fully comfortable as you harbour a lot of pain and achiness, but you eventually do and it warms Alexia's heart to see. Anaís had fallen asleep too, taking her first ever nap in her Mami's arms, and Alexia doesn't think she's ever felt such peace.

She takes the opportunity to photograph the occasion with a selfie of the three of you, before sending it to various people: Eli and Alba, your family, your closest friends, and lastly her teammates who were currently at training. They must have all seen it at the same time as her phone immediately started blowing up at the influx of overjoyed messages. Each one is filled with so much love and delight for you both, and that paired with the messages from Eli and Alba cause her to tear up once again. She wasn't sure how she had any tears left to be honest, it had been an emotional day and it seemed like it wasn't ending anytime soon.

The next day, after getting the all-clear, you were allowed to take Anaís home for the first time. Eli and Alba had been there waiting, making sure the house was tidy and cosy so that you and your little family could live as stress-free as possible (if that was a thing with a newborn) whilst you adjusted to your new way of life.

You settled on the sofa beside Alexia's mother as the now-abuela held her granddaughter for the first time. The look on Alexia's face as she placed a sleeping Anaís in her arms was one you'd never forget. It was priceless, there was so much pride present in her eyes and you were so glad for her sake that Alba was filming the moment. Next, it was Alba's turn to hold her, who also shed a few tears when she held onto Anaís for the first time, joking that she was glad she put no makeup on otherwise her mascara would stain the soft white blanket wrapped around the baby. Unexpectedly, as Alba cradled your daughter and conversed quietly with Alexia, Eli shuffled closer to you and hugged you tenderly, whispering the sweetest words you'd ever heard from her into your ear. There were so many core memories being created at once it was near impossible to keep up with everything, but you realised in a quiet moment in the middle of it all that you had finally achieved the life you wanted. This was it; you'd done it.

You stayed in your social media free bubble for a week, until you and Alexia decided it was time to confirm what everyone thought anyway. It was the same day that Barça had their penultimate Liga F game, the first game for the club since Anaís was born. As there would only be more speculation when Alexia wouldn't be named in the match day squad, both of you and the club decided today would be the best day to do it. When you were pregnant, you made an agreement that Alexia would continue playing until the baby was born, where she would take however long she wanted off to be with you and your daughter. And in the end, that agreement worked out perfectly.

So, Alexia posted yet another simple photo to her social pages, this time a selfie of her exhausted smile and the back of Anaís' head as she slept on her chest, the little girl of course adorning the Barça jersey featured in the initial pregnancy announcement photo. She did caption it this time, writing 'Nueva mascota del Barça' meaning Barcelona's new mascot, followed by two red and blue love hearts. You smiled when you saw the online reaction, sitting and scrolling through it whilst you fed Anaís and Alexia napped on the sofa beside you.

Throughout the week that followed, you both thought it was time to allow people outside your immediate family to visit. That meant that almost everyday there were new guests over. The most excitable one was of course Mapi, it was hard to keep her calm and quiet enough to let her hold Anaís but once the baby was in her arms, she immediately fell silent as she simply admired her. You, Alexia, and Ingrid all shared shocked looks at the scene in front of you.

"Buena, Ingrid, there is your solution to her constant talking." Alexia joked with a grin, making Ingrid roll her eyes.

However, Mapi's reply caught everybody off guard.

"Sí, elskling, we will talk about it later."

You had to hold back the laugh that threatened to burst out when Ingrid and Alexia's eyes widened so much that they almost popped out of their head. It would only be a matter of time before those two had children anyway, you secretly knew it. Anytime one of their friends announced they were having children, you could see the desire for the same thing in their eyes grow everytime. Whether they both knew they felt the same or not, you definitely could picture it in their near future.

Alexia missed the final game of the season too of course, but with it being a home game at the Johan, you urged her to go and watch it so that she could be part of the post-game presentations and celebrations. She was reluctant to do so, she hadn't really left your side for long since before you gave birth, but the smile on her face as she got ready to leave let you know you'd made the right decision.

"Say bye-bye to your chiqui." You say quietly, presenting a sleeping Anaís to Alexia where she was waiting to say goodbye at the front door. She smiles brightly and wraps an arm around you, looking down at your daughter's face that seemed to change everyday.

"Adiós mi niña, volveré pronto." Alexia whispers, leaning down to press a very light kiss to her forehead. "And you, I will be back as soon as I can."

"I'll be okay, Ale." You giggle, Alexia grinning and hugging you into her side. "Enjoy it. Promise me you'll make the most of it?"

"Eh, I will, but I don't want to be out too long." She shrugs a shoulder, leaning down to kiss you softly.

"Why not?" You wonder with a frown, and from that Alexia can spot the speckles of insecurity in your eyes.

"Because I just want to be with you and Anaís. I'm not worried about leaving you with her, not at all, but there's nothing better than being with you both at home. I love it." Alexia admits, washing away any doubts you had and replacing them with the most adorable confession. "It's true. I will be gone for only a few hours but I will miss you both so much."

You gaze up at her, your heart so full, and lean up to peck her lips softly.

"We will miss you too." You tell her, watching on adoringly as Alexia raises a hand and gently takes hold of one Anaís' tiny hands. The difference in size is so big that it's absolutely adorable, making you smile and lean your head into Alexia's neck.

"Mi familia perfecta." Alexia murmurs, stroking her thumb over Anaís tiny fingers and kissing your forehead. "I don't want to leave."

"We'll be right here when you get back. Go celebrate you and your team, it was another amazing season and they'll want to catch up with you. We've kept you locked up here long enough." You joke, Alexia smiling and shaking her head.

"They won't want to know about me, I will just get a million questions about you and Anaís."

"We both know you'd happily sit there for hours talking about me and Anaís, it's all you do." You catch her out, but she just shrugs and smirks.

"Why would I want to talk about anything else?" She says smugly, but she means it genuinely. You are the best things in her life. "But fine. I guess I will go. If anything happens, please ring me immediately?"

"Yes, Ale." You roll your eyes and kiss her quickly once more. "Now go. Alba will be here any minute, I'll be okay."

"I know you'll be okay. Love you." Alexia smiles, opening the door but lingering in the doorway as she stares at you lovingly.

"I love you too. You look beautiful." You tell her, smiling humourously when a light blush covers her cheeks.

"This is what I look like when I can shower and I'm not covered in baby sick, if you remember." She winks.

"I remember it very well." You smirk, stifling a laugh when she grins knowingly. "Now go, you'll be late."

She puts on a very dramatic sad frown and steps out of the house backwards, turning around just as Alba pulls up and presses her horn.

"Alba! Anaís is sleeping, are you stupid?" Alexia snaps quietly at her sister who jumps out of her car with a grin.

"She's still asleep, stop stalling and go." You tease, ushering her away with one hand as Alba skips over and completely disregards Alexia in search of you and Anaís.

"Where is my favourite sister with my favourite baby?" She grins, shoving past her actual sister and walking straight over to you.

"Nice to see you too, Alba." Alexia grumbles, though there is a tiny hint of a smile on her face as she watches you three.

"Have fun at your game, Tata." Alba waves behind her dismissively and embraces you carefully, kissing your cheek before turning to Anaís. "Hola, belleza. Oh, she is so cute."

"Alexia, you're gonna be late." You laugh as she comes over to join you, standing behind you and Alba and wrapping an arm each around your shoulders.

"But this is so much better." She groans. "I have been to plenty trophy celebrations, what is one more?"

"That's so humble of you, Ale." You scoff jokingly, grinning at the disapproving look on her face and kissing her cheek.

"Mami will be mad if you stand her up, Tata. Now go. Angry Mami is scarier than you when you are angry."

That seems to shift Alexia into gear as she begrudgingly pulls herself away from the mini group hug and walks with a childish pout on her face back to the door. You wave at her as she walks out and she blows a quick kiss at you before closing the door gently behind her.

Alba kindly offers to look after Anaís so that you can take a relaxing bath before the match kicks off, and afterwards you feel ten times more refreshed and calm. When you're finished, you join her on the sofa and chat with her whilst Anaís sleeps peacefully in the space between you both. You feel completely content there, catching up with Alba whilst your baby snoozes away and Barcelona score what seems like goal after goal. Every so often, the broadcast will show Alexia sat in the stands and you have an inkling that she's overcome with the same feeling you have as she sits there calmly with a hint of a smile on her face instead of the stormy and stoic look she normally wears whilst watching a game.

Once the match ends, the players celebrate on the pitch for a little whilst the ceremony gets prepared. Various awards from the season are given out, Alexia receiving a few as expected, but what you don't expect is the large hamper of baby supplies and other things such as clothes or sweets treats that is handed to her. She laughs at it and holds it up in front of the camera for a photo, but underneath the mask for the camera you can see the pride in her eyes and the utter joy on her face at the acknowledgement given to her.

"Did you know about that?" You ask Alba, who grins slyly at you.

"It was Mapi and Jana's idea." She tells you.

It's a wonderful surprise nonetheless, and from the quick glance you get at it, it looks like it contains genuinely useful stuff along with some treats that you'll devour once Alexia brings it back home.

Shortly after that, the trophy ceremony commences and you beam as Alexia collects her medal before picking up the trophy and taking it over to her teammates. You'd seen her do this multiple times, and of course she obviously seemed overjoyed each time, but as you watch this particular celebration, there's a new, unrefined look on her face, almost like she's letting her happiness consume her instead of dimming it a little to keep her persona.

When she comes home later, an endless amount of gift bags in her arms, she frowns at the unexpected silence of her home. She thought she would walk into the sounds of you and Alba laughing and chattering away like you often did together, so the stillness of the house comes as a surprise. Dropping all her bags off in the kitchen, she wanders into the lounge that was lit up by one lamp in the corner of the room. She squints a little, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, and spots you lay on the sofa with a blanket over you as you sleep.

"Hola Tata." Alba smiles at the sight of her sister in the doorway of the living room. "She fell asleep after the broadcast ended, so I took Anaís to her nursery and stayed in there so she could rest."

"Is she okay?" Alexia asks, concerned, happily accepting a restless Anaís when Alba offers her.

"Sí, sí, she is fine. Just tired. I think chiqui needs feeding, I changed her diaper but she is still a bit unsettled." Alexia nods in agreement and grabs a fresh bottle from the steriliser. "Would you like me to do anything? I have dinner with friends later so I will need to leave soon."

"No, it's okay, Tati. Thank you for coming over today and keeping them company."

Alba watches on in astonishment as Alexia expertly prepares a bottle of formula for Anaís with only one hand.

"Of course. It was so fun spending time with your girls." Alba states, pausing for a moment before walking over to her older sister and hugging her tightly from behind whilst being mindful of her niece.

"¿Tas bien?" Alexia frowns, leaning her head against Alba's when the younger woman rests her chin on her shoulder.

"Sí, simplemente estoy orgulloso de ti." Alba tells her, Alexia chuckling shyly. (Yes, I'm just proud of you.)

"Grácies, Tati." She mumbles, smiling down at Anaís when she mewls quietly.

"I was going through some old photos before and I realised that this little chiqui looks just like we did when we were babies." Alba reveals, lightly tracing her finger over the curve of Anaís nose.

"Really? You have to send me them." Alexia says as the timer goes off, telling her that the bottle was ready. "Put your hand out." Alba does as she says and laughs quietly when Alexia tips a few drops of the milk onto her hand. "Too hot? Too cold?"

"Just right, I think." Alba shrugs, unattaching herself from Alexia. The older woman presses the lukewarm bottle to Anaís' lips, a tiny proud smile growing when she immediately settles and starts drinking. Alba can't help but be fascinated again. "I can't believe you're a Mami now."

"Me too." Alexia mumbles, eyes unmoving from her daughter who seems much more content now that she's being fed. She glances up at Alba, a little confused when she sees her eyes have turned glossy. "Tati?"

"Papa would be so proud." Alba blurts out, a down-turned smile on her face due to the array of emotions overcoming her.

"Alba." Alexia smiles sadly, finding herself beginning to react exactly the same as her sister. Her eyes glimmer in the light of the room when she looks back down at the little girl in her arms. "I wish he could meet her."

Alba sniffles and walks back over to Alexia, slinging an arm around her shoulder and kissing her cheek.

"He would have been an amazing abuelo, right?"

"Sí." Alexia whispers breathlessly, looking up at the lights for a moment to blink away her tears. "Go to your dinner, Tati, stop making me cry."

"Vale, I'm going." Alba laughs, giving her another cheek kiss and squeezing her side tightly before stepping away. "Te veo pronto."

"Buenas noches, disfruta tu velada." Alexia follows her to the hallway and watches her leave, smiling brightly as she steps out of her house and closes the door.

That smile stays on her face as she walks silently back to where you slept in the lounge, then sits down carefully next to where your head lay as Anaís carries on feeding. You had your face buried in the couch cushions, a blanket pulled up to your shoulder and your hands tucked under your chin. Alexia sighs contently, maybe a little too loud, as it seems to wake you.

"Ale?" You rasp, leaning your head back a little to glance up at her through one eye.

"Sí amor. You can sleep more if you would like, I have the baby." Alexia whispers. There's a piece of hair that's fallen onto your face that she would swipe out of the way for you if her hands weren't full with a tiny feasting baby.

"When did you come home?" You wonder, rubbing your eyes.

"Not too long ago. Alba left just now."

"Oh god, I can't believe I fell asleep while she was here." You groan, a little embarrassed at the fact you had just abandoned her for sleep and left her with your baby.

"No, it's okay, she was more than happy to look after Anaís. She said she took her up to her nursery and just relaxed in there with her." Alexia tells you as you hide your face back into the sofa pillows. "If you fell asleep, that means you needed it. It's absolutely fine, amor, don't be embarrassed."

You nod and rest there for a few moments, before deciding to sit up and snuggle into Alexia's side. She smiles down at you and kisses your forehead, the pair of you sitting in silence for a little while as Anaís drinks.

"Did you have fun today?" You ask, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of Alexia's shirt.

"I did, it was very fun. I got a lot of gifts from fans and the staff for Anaís. Also a lot for you, not many for me though." She frowns and you laugh at the sight as well as the disheartened tone to her voice.

"I guess you're just not so popular anymore." You tease, kissing her jaw just as Anaís finished off the bottle. You took it from Alexia's hands and placed it on the floor so that she could burp Anaís, watching on as she carefully positioned her so that she was sat up on her thigh with a hand holding her front to support her and the other gently rubbing up and down her back. "Remember when you thought you wouldn't good enough? You're a pro, Ale."

"Hm. I still worry that sometimes." Alexia admits sheepishly.

"Why?" You wonder quietly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezing once.

"I think it is just a general worry. But you do a great job of telling me otherwise. We don't know much about her personality yet but you and her make being a parent easy." She states softly, glancing down at you with a blissful smile on her face.

Out of all the places she's been, all the things she's seen, everything she's achieved and the once-in-a-lifetime experiences she's lived, these moments right here could never be topped.

"That's very adorable of you to say." You murmur, forever enamoured by how soft and affectionate she can be with her words. "I can't wait to see what she's like when she grows up."

"Me too, but she can't do it too fast." Alexia grumbles, once again making you laugh as you quickly wipe a bit of spit-up away from Anaís' mouth. "Before we know it she will be moving out."

It's said with a dejected sigh, and this time you laugh at Alexia instead of with her.

"You do realise she's not even three weeks old? She's not gonna be packing her bags and leaving next week, Ale." You say with a grin, giggling as a small smile breaks onto Alexia's face despite her trying to stop it. "We have at least eighteen years before we need to worry about that."

"I know, I just don't want it to happen ever."

You hum in agreement, before noticing the slight redness to Alexia's eyes.

"Have you been crying?" You ask her, sitting up a little more so you could look at her properly.

"Only a tiny bit, Alba made me cry before she left." Alexia chuckles lightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, she... she started talking about our Papi and... how proud he would be now that I have you and Anaís." Alexia replies, the same feeling from before taking over her. You smile sadly and wrap an arm around her shoulders, kissing her cheek.

"He really would." You whisper.

It falls quiet again, the only sounds being the tiny burps that Anaís lets out every so often, you and Alexia laughing quietly everytime. She grows tired after a little while, so Alexia cradles her back into her arms and you both watch as she quickly falls asleep in the company of her parents. It's a sight you don't think you could ever get sick of; it's perfect.

"It was nice seeing you so happy today." You say quietly to Alexia, not wanting to wake Anaís up.

"I am always happy, amor." Alexia replies in a confused tone.

"I know, but just seeing you at the game earlier, you seemed a different kind of happy."

"Because I have everything I have ever dreamed of now."

You might not have believed her at first - did she not already have that with all she's accomplished with football? But the way she looks into your eyes as she says it with so much earnest and love and a thousand other emotions swirling in her hazel orbs when she gazes at you, you might just believe her.

And two years later as you bake another cake, this time for Anaís' second birthday, a past memory - which seems incredibly distant now - washes over you. You mention it to Alexia, who's eyes light up instantly, though she doesn't immediately say what's on the tip of her tongue. You manage to coax it out of her, and this time around it's your turn to be completely caught off guard.

"I think we should have another soon."

You look up at her, surprised but completely on board with the idea. You say just that to her and afterwards, it goes quiet again as you stand doing your individual baking jobs with shy, excited smiles on your faces about the prospect of being parents again and growing your family. Anaís was such a happy and easy child, of course you'd have another if the next one turned out to be anything like her. And seeing Alexia with a newborn again? Absolutely.

However, you recognise a pattern in your family decision-making process.

"If we only want two kids though, we should probably stop baking cakes."

Part 2

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #woso #woso x reader

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rxrejuvenate · 6 months

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januaryembrs · 5 months

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THE KID SWINGS BACK | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [4]

Description: The THREE times things feel weird between Spencer and you because you're just best friends.

Length: 21k (this is HALF of what I wrote for this chapter before I split it into two parts :0)

Warnings: explicit hints of suicidal ideation, as I have said in the last two chapters, Bugsy has really struggled with losing Emily and has been in a bad place. it is mentioned once or twice but please read with caution if you feel topics of mental health, not vividly described but the effects of it, are mentioned. Spencer's addiction is also mentioned. Violence, blood, swearing, usual CM warnings. Also there is a brief mention of SA (bugsy gets spanked by a stranger in a casino), again if this is triggering please be cautious. EXPLOSION. Emily and bug argue + fight. Bug + hatch fight. Bugsy takes no prisoners in this one won't lie. Spencer and bugsy turn each other on accidentally.

authors note: this was supposed to be a lot longer (I've had to split it with the next part released in a few days time) and yet every time I tried to upload to Tumblr, it crashed because it was over 30k words ;-; OTHER HALF IS COMING SOON.

previous chpt | next chapter

‘If you take a swing, the kid swings back,

she say I’m not your punching bag,’

The one where Emily comes back.

She felt the headache as soon as she woke up. She’d experimented with Molly her first week of college, hated every second of it after she had prattled on for two hours to some other random freshman about the breakthrough research in enzyme-replacement therapy like she was catching him up on an episode of the Kardashians. She’d tried the odd few brownies, though they usually turned her stomach the next day and made her paranoid for about a week, before she swore them off entirely for their yummy, sober counterpart.

She should have known what to expect when she woke up, but then again, if she had been smart enough to pre-empt how awful she’d feel the next day, she probably wouldn’t have taken the little pink pill with a candied love heart on the top at all.

The duvet was soft against her face, and for a moment she didn’t care about anything except chasing the warmth it provided; just that she was cosy and it smelled nice, smelled familiar.

Her eyes pinged open when she realised that whatever that familiar smell was, it was very much not her own sheets. And she was very much not in the clothes she left the house in last night.

Bugsy sat up too fast, that much she knew, because in the time it had taken her to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, reach for the side table where she hoped to find her phone, a home phone, or just any working phone she could call someone off, she felt the room that smelled like a dream spinning around her.

Her legs turned to jelly, her stomach tossed with a mix of nerves and nausea, and, graceful as ever, she fell face first to the ground with a thud, smacking her temple off the corner of the bedpost on her way down.

“Fuck,” She whined, raising a hand to her brow that thudded with more than the side affects of last night, and she was quick to hear footsteps approaching as if in a half run. The door to the bedroom dragged on the thick sherpa carpet as it swung open, and she blinked wearily up at the culprit.

“Alright, up we get,” There were hands slipping under hers before she got a chance to see anything that wasn’t a blurry mess of brown hair and worried eyes, and it wasn’t until she heard his voice she felt herself sigh in relief, “Of course you wake up the second I turn around,”

“Sencer?,” She cleared her throat, hands latching onto his shoulders as he lifted her back onto the bed, “Spencer?” She tried again, her lips chapped, her skin clammy.

“Good morning, to you too,” His voice was soft, quieter than usual, like he knew just how delicate her head was and changed his tone accordingly, “Did you sleep well?”

“Morgan- where’s Morgan, I thought we…” She murmured, turning her head in confusion to the window where Spence had gone so far as to pull the curtains closed for her, seeing just the smallest crack of daylight filtering over the bed sheets. Her hands ran down his chest, her eyes lost and dazed, like someone had taken her batteries out, and Spencer took it as an opportunity to hand her the glass of water he’d got her and two advil.

“Morgan’s safe; he went home, he said he had a wonderful night,” Spencer lied, hoping she was just a little out of it that she didn’t catch him in it. She always knew when he was lying. But, as he’d suspected, she barely picked up on it, her lips pouting in confusion when she took note of the medicine he’d given her, “Drink up, Morgan said you did a lot of dancing last night, you’re probably dehydrated.”

“I did…” She echoed him, trailing off when the blur of the nightclub caught up to her, and she remembered exactly the last time someone had handed her a little tablet like those ones. Her heart plummeted, her eyes widening into saucers, and she swore she might have felt the glass crack beneath her palm with how tight her grip became. She looked up at him, and instantly picked apart the pity and the sadness swimming in his honey pooled eyes, “You know,”

He nodded softly, his hand coming up to stroke her hair away from her face, his gaze falling to where she felt something sore and achy forming on her forehead, bleeding into her brow.

“Spence-” Her own groan of pain cut her off when he brushed over the bump on her temple, and she understood she had perhaps hit it much harder than she’d initially thought.

“Let’s get you breakfast, and then we’ll talk,” He whispered softly, concern thick in his voice, and for the first time in months, she didn’t fight it. She just listened, and let him love her.

“God, I am truly pathetic,” She muttered, sipping her coffee with a scowl in between the maple ladened pancakes going down with a vicious chomp on her fork. Her other hand was occupied holding a bag of frozen peas to her head, where a nice dark bruise was spreading its way over the right side of her face, spider webbing out into a black eye.

“You’re not pathetic, everyone makes mistakes,” Spencer tried reassuring her, but he couldn’t help but smile as she devoured breakfast with the anger of a raccoon being dragged from a garbage bin, “You’re safe, that’s all that matters,”

She sighed, and Spencer didn’t actually think she had ever been so grumpy around him before, “Spencer, look at me,” He did, he had been all morning, but he did as he was told anyway, “I’m a federal agent who took molly from a frat boy all because I can’t just grieve like a normal person and cry my pathetic little heart out and be done with it. I crashed your night because I can’t even handle a little ecstasy without needing supervision and I just got into a fight with your bedframe,” She finished with a huff, dipping her next mouthful of pancake in the puddle of maple syrup she’d created on the plate, “And the fucking bedframe won.”

He smiled despite himself, reaching out to hold her wrist gently, making sure it was her turn to listen to him now, “Bug, I grew up being shoved into lockers and swirlied my whole life. I was the only kid in a classful of seniors that used to wedgie me so hard I had to have the school librarian, Mrs Addler, walk me between classes. Believe me, I’ve seen pathetic and you’re not- why are you crying, Bug, don’t cry,”

He remembered this bit, the mood swings, when he would pendulum between exhaustion and irritation straight into sadness and hopelessness, like there would never be an impasse between them unless he did more of the thing that had made him feel so awful in the first place. Still, he gently took the bag of now slightly soggy peas from her head, wrapping an arm around her back and scooching his chair to sit next to hers as she dropped onto his shoulder with a weepy sniff.

“I’m crying because I just thought of baby you all alone with Mrs Addler-” She sobbed loudly, and his heart bled out in his chest with warmth. No one had ever cried for him. “How could they be so cruel to you, I swear if we ever see those bastards, I’ll show them how we settled things in Russia-”

He chuckled, shaking his head, and she snuggled closer to him the way she had last night when the only thing keeping her on earth had been his body heat.

“It wasn’t all bad, she used to share her butterscotch with me,” He said with a small smile when she raised a wet glance at him.

“You know, you never have to be alone again, right?” Bugsy murmured, and he swore his heart might have just jumped right up into his mouth then and there, “You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I promise I’ll never leave you again. That was… selfish of me, I’m sorry I was so selfish.”

Spencer felt his throat tighten as he looked at her, innocent and entirely truthful, like he could ask anything from her right this second and her god’s honest words would be ‘Anything for you, Spencer, I’d do anything for you.’ He had never had anyone look at him like that, nothing even close.

“You’re my best friend too. And you weren’t selfish, you were grieving,” He choked out, and she tucked herself beneath his chin then, satisfied with the response, but his stomach turned sour when he remembered what he was going to tell her last night, what he should have told her months, years, ago instead of lying to her. Because he knew she would understand, knew she would get him the way no one else had even tried to, because she was just her. “I have to tell you something,”

She sat up straight, sensing the seriousness in his tone, and looked at him with imploring eyes, still sleep-addled and slightly wet around the edges.

He cleared his throat, “When I told you I was allergic to narcotics since I was born, that wasn’t entirely true, and I’m sorry I lied to you,” Her brows softened, creasing in a way that told him she was worried, or she knew where he was heading but couldn’t find a voice in her to say anything. He ran clammy palms over his pyjama pants, “There was a case, a while back, where we were tracking an UnSub to this farmhouse in the middle of Atlanta. Me and JJ got split up and the UnSub took me hostage in his father’s shed,”

She stayed quiet, but she quickly took his hand in hers when she saw him fidgeting with it in his lap. He smiled at her weakly, and squeezed her fingers gently, telling her he was okay to talk about it no matter if his chest was rattling and his face felt like fire.

“He was very sick, the UnSub. Tobias. He took on an alter of his dead father because he couldn't handle life without him. Even though his father was extremely violent and abusive, he still loved him enough to never want to let him go,” His lip pulled between his teeth for a moment, and he couldn’t look at her for what he was about to say, “Tobias tried giving me something to stop the pain of his father’s beatings when he would front and being a drug addict himself, the best thing he had was dilaudid. So, he gave it to me for the three days I was with him before the team found me,”

“Spence,” She said softly, knowing he would hate to hear an ‘I’m sorry’ because she hated those two words with a passion, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,”

“No, I want to, it’s just a little… fuzzy in parts,” He whispered, and she nodded, gently knocking her head against his jaw to let him know she was there to listen, “After the case wrapped up, everyone got home and just sort of pretended things went back to normal, even though I felt like I was drowning in everything that had happened, and the only thing I could think that had stopped the pain was the dilaudid. So I took more, and more, until I was using every other day, sometimes even at work to cope with the cases,”

“Did anyone know?” She asked, lips pressed tight as she scolded herself for talking, but he stroked her hand with his thumb to show he didn’t care if she asked questions, “Did Emily know?”

He nodded gingerly, “Everyone knew, but no one could do anything, or say anything, because otherwise Hotch would have to file a report on me, and I’d be forced to leave the team,”

“So no one helped?” She said, and there was an unexpected trace of anger in her tone that he knew too well. He’d be lying if he said that there were more than a handful of times when he was at his lowest he didn’t curse the team out for not giving a single shit about his condition. But when he’d sobered up, when he’d got clean and back to his usual self, he knew they were trying to do what was best, that they were in uncharted waters as to what would be the correct approach to helping him that wouldn’t diffuse a bomb that could ruin all of their careers.

“There was nothing they could do, Bug. If they said anything they would be just as liable as me for what I was doing, the same way Morgan and I aren’t going to say a word about what happened last night,” He pointed out, and she seemed bitter as if she knew he was right but hated the point of it anyway.

She held onto herself for long enough hearing that, and he saw it coming before it came as a shock when she threw her arms around him, hugging him tighter than she ever had before, not crying like she had been, but full to the brim of sadness and grief and mourning, as if she was trying to squeeze it all out of him so she could take it on for herself.

“You’re never going to be alone again, I swear, Spencer,”

And he believed her with everything in him.

–

Bugsy had been back in the field for five weeks now, looking healthier than ever thanks to Hotch’s insistence she joined Beth for triathlon practice despite the fact she really had started feeling more like herself.

It had only taken six months, but who was counting, right?

Sure, walking past Emily’s desk had stopped her in her tracks the first day she got back, and Morgan had quickly jumped in to distract her with a cup of coffee, leading her over to the kitchenette and far away from the empty table her sister’s things had once been on.

She was still adjusting to this alternate reality version of the BAU where Emily wasn’t there to protect her and watch out for her, and where they didn’t bicker about who got to ride shotgun with Hotch because Bug loved when he would drive fast (he pretended not to notice but would floor it when they hit the freeway), or when they would butt heads over who finished off the biscuits Emily kept in her secret stash (it was almost always Bugsy sharing them with Spencer and Penelope, when the three of them would gossip in Pen’s lair at lunchtime.)

She was adjusting, slowly yes, but there was one thing to keep her going, to keep her holding her head high as she walked past Emily’s picture on the way, full of smiles and dark hair the day she’d been instated in the bureau, her excitement tangible even through a piece of paper and a thin sheet of glass.

There was one thing keeping her going, and it wasn’t Penelope’s cheerful good mornings she showered her in the minute she entered the building, it wasn’t Beth’s runs that would take everything out of her even though she felt stronger than she ever had, it wasn’t Rossi’s insistence on cooking for her once or twice a week because ‘he had more wine he could ever need alone and she could stir the pasta while he chopped the meat’, and it wasn’t even Spencer sticking to her side like damn velcro since she had been back. Although, they played a pretty big part in it.

No, the one thing keeping her going was revenge.

Morgan had let it slip accidentally, the morning she had come back into the headquarters to fill in some forms with Hotch and Strauss before Hotch was reassigned to Pakistan, when she had slinked into his office with an apology ready at her lips for the way she had behaved, to which he was going to say he had no idea what she was talking about because that was how things had to be, only to find file upon file upon caseload on Ian Doyle splayed all over his desk, and she quickly realised Derek was not one to let sleeping dogs lie either.

And, reluctantly, he had let her help, because he hated the idea of them keeping secrets from her. Especially ones that involved them secretly tracking down the guy who killed her sister, who had threatened to abduct, torture and kill her if Emily hadn’t gone after him first.

Because Bugsy was always going to be her little sister, no matter how grown and headstrong and stubborn as an ass she was. And Emily had had zero intention of letting Bugsy come even close to danger at the hands of Ian Doyle or any other motherfucker dumb enough to think they’d get away unscathed making threats to her sister. Which was why Emily had been the one to track him down first, no matter who she had to trample on, what lines she had to cross.

And now it was Bug’s turn to reciprocate the favour.

The one thing that bounced around her head with every step she took across the BAU floor was how Ian Doyle would look when she dragged him to hell and back and everything in between, when she made him burn the way she had burnt.

Hotch had been away on temporary duty for the month, bar the occasional phone call where he checked in on her directly or through Spencer, and it wasn’t until she walked into Morgan in a blunt exchange with his own cell that she realised he was perhaps closer to coming home than she’d thought.

The man nodded, and bid the mystery caller goodbye before he flicked a look up to where Bugsy had entered his office with a cup of to-go coffee and an expression of intrigue.

“We got him,” Morgan said, and it was the three words she had been waiting to hear for two hundred and fifteen days.

They had found Doyle.

She was in the back of an SUV not even two hours later, strapped to her neck with tactical gear and two loaded pistols holstered at her hips.

“You’re sure you’re alright to do this?” JJ asked from her place beside her, noting the way the girl’s leg was bouncing, her fingers twitching as the three of them crowded around the screen linked to the surveillance camera set up outside Doyle’s apartment, Spencer and David watching an identical feed in the next block over, outside the safe house his son, Declan, was supposed to be in.

Only, when they’d arrived, the little blonde haired, blue eyed boy that was the only thing Doyle gave a damn about in the world was gone, two agents and his nanny lying dead on the floor.

“Put it this way, JJ, I’m going in after that son of a bitch whether you guys cover me or not, and it would be real nice to have back up,” Bugsy said simply, like she was reciting the weather, not ready to rain hellfire on anyone who got in between her and wringing Doyle’s neck.

The blonde woman exchanged a look with Derek, the two of them cautious about her behaviour, but thought better than to try stop her when she had just as much right as any of them for justice.

Before any of them could say another word, a car sped around the corner of the cul-de-sac, veering and wavering between parked cars, narrowly missing theirs by an inch, and red-blue blaring lights came racing after it within seconds, the siren full blast and no doubt waking the neighbours.

Or at least one neighbour in particular, as they spotted the curtains twitching in Doyle’s apartment, and they had their first sign of life in hours.

“He’s in there, someone’s in there,” Bugsy pointed to where the fabric moved in the dead of the night, unholstering one of her weapons and bursting the back door to the SUV open.

JJ clicked her radio on, speaking into her shoulder as Morgan was a hair width behind Bugsy, equally armed and ready, “We got movement on Doyle, we’re heading up to search his apartment,”

“Be careful, keep an eye on the kid,” Rossi ordered, he and Spencer adjusting their positions in their SUV, waiting for forensics to show up and investigate the nanny’s house. Spencer licked his lips nervously, and he could only imagine what was going through Bugsy’s mind at that moment, wishing more than ever she could have just stayed with him and let Morgan and JJ catch Doyle.

But she would never. She had nearly ripped Rossi’s head off for suggesting it even.

–

She’d seen him move up to the roof, had taken the stairs in twos, and she felt like kissing Aaron the second she saw him for all that cardio paying off a treat. She heard Morgan panting behind her, urging her to wait up so she wasn’t going in alone, but she didn’t listen, not when she was this close to getting that rat in her grasp and squeezing the life out of him barehanded.

She kicked down the door leading to the roof from the stairwell, her pistol drawn high and sharp and Morgan’s steps racing up behind her were the only sound for a moment.

He was here somewhere, watching them, god only hoped they had caught him unaware before he could call in his own backup.

Taking a careful step out onto the concrete, willing herself to take a deep breath and calm herself; she checked her nine o’clock, checked her three, before her boots crunched under her and she moved further out onto the roofing. Flicking a look around again, her eyes squinted against the moonlight that did little to no good, searching for even the smallest movements that would give him away.

“I heard you wanted to see me, Doyle,” She said loudly, hoping he would fit the profile they’d put together and want to tie up his loose ends once he realised who she was, “Truth is, I’ve been wanting to see you too,”

She had barely a second to react as she felt something hard slam across the back of her head, and she realised he had hit her with a rogue, loose pipe, hard enough for her to stumble forward, dropping her pistol when his body soon followed to tackle her completely to the ground in the effort to grab for the gun himself.

But she felt like body was alive with excitement, like the pain in her skull didn’t ache, didn’t matter, because she had him in her reach.

It took her barely a second to bring her elbow into his stomach, winding him hard enough he weakened his grip on top of her, then another hit square across his jaw, another to his temple, one to his already crooked nose and she threw a downward thump into his groin for good measure.

He hissed, cursing her something vile, and it was only then she saw the grey-blue eyes of the man who had killed her sister with no remorse, who had taken the person she loved unconditionally within a blink of an eye.

“You recognise me?” She said, a manic smile on her face as she raised the other gun from its holster, kicking him hard in the knee she’d seen him limping on, a bullet wound shaped scar giving his weakness away in seconds.

She wasn’t the only enemy he’d made in that business of his, but she sure as hell would be his last one.

He fell to the floor, his eyes wary as he looked up at the girl he had spent weeks collating photos of, the girl he’d had two of his best men tracking, snapping pictures of her going about her day to day life before he sent them to Emily. Because she would know what that meant no words needed.

This was her sister. Her little sister she had fought tooth and nail for, that she had given her life for. Her sister, who had the same rock solid loyalty to her family as Lauren had.

“Do you want to know where you went wrong, Doyle?” She asked, and her voice wasn’t calm like her body was, it was hiding the glee she was taking from his alarmed expression, like they both knew she was the last person he would have expected to be grabbing him in the night, “Your mistake, Doyle, was not killing me first,”

She raised her finger to the trigger, feeling for a second the same thrill as when she popped that molly just to forget everything that was happening. Because she had tunnel vision, and pulling the plug on Ian Doyle’s pathetic existence was the solution.

Until Morgan’s hand came over hers, and his voice was closer than she’d expected to her ear. She’d barely heard him creep up on her, she realised with a jolt.

“Don’t do this, kid,”

“He deserves it,” She spat, hating the sorrow in his voice when he pointed the gun away from Doyle who wiped his fingers beneath his nostrils and pulled back with a wince and a blob of blood over the back of his hand.

“I know he does. But we need to find Declan, and we can’t do that without him,” Morgan’s voice was deep and bitter, knowing full well he had to be the one to take the reins as much as he would love to just let her have at him.

Her nose scrunched in disgust when Doyle laughed at her annoyance, and she quickly holstered her weapon, pulling the cuffs out of her back pocket and helping Morgan yank him off the floor.

“I got some friends that would love to meet you, honey,” Doyle said through a wheezing breath, despite Morgan’s rough hands shoving him forward towards the stairwell.

She chuckled however, her face still bitter, her eyes something nasty and wild as she flanked his other side, “Don’t worry, I have some friends for you to play with too, Doyle.” She tightened her grip on his arm just to make it hurt, “I wonder how the Chernuses would feel about you and your men being so close to their turf. You ever fucked with the Russian Mob, Ian?”

His smile wiped clean off his face at that.

“How’s it going?” Hotch asked, and she barely had time to comment on the fact he looked rather dashing with a beard and a tan, or that he had lost ten pounds, before he was straight back to business, even after an eighteen hour flight.

“He won’t talk. He said the only person who could have helped us find Gerace would have been Emily.” She replied, rubbing her hands over her eyes with a huff, “Just another dead end,” She threw the file onto the roundtable, which was slowly piling up with documents relating to anyone Ian Doyle had ever had relations with.

Hotch’s face tightened. He took a single moment to enjoy the calm that overcame the room, took a second to enjoy the fact she was looking normal and healthy compared to when he had all but barged into her apartment to force her on a run.

Because he knew the normalcy they had found themselves in now was about to be flipped on its head, JJ confirming with a nod from the other side of the room that she was on her way.

He turned to look where Morgan, Rossi and Reid had walked in, Reid stroking a gentle hand over Bugsy’s hair where she hunched over the table and flicked through some files for anything to keep her mind off of going into that interrogation room and ripping into Doyle. She flicked a small smile up at him as he passed her, leaning over her shoulder to take half her workload off her.

She looked happier than she had in months, and he was about to take it all away again. Hotch swallowed the self loathing that threatened to choke him alive, and opened his mouth.

“Everybody have a seat,” The team looked up at him in confusion, but followed orders, JJ moving around the table to stand beside him, the same reluctant look on her face when she saw Bugsy’s frown.

“Why?” Morgan asked, seeing as no one else was going to, “What’s going on? Everything alright?”

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team,” Hotch began, his eyes immediately flicking to where the youngest Prentiss faltered, “As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilise her,”

Bugsy’s ears started ringing just hearing her sister’s name coming from his lips, said so casually and blunt that it felt like he had punched her in the stomach and she thought she was maybe over estimating how well she had overcome the grief.

And that hadn’t even been the worst part, she quickly realised. The doctors were able to stabilise her.

“And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need to know. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security,” Hotch said, avoiding the piercing eyes that were slowly melting between confusion to heartache to one she finally could land on, horror.

No one breathed for a moment, no one said a thing as the words sunk in, and she felt her entire body wash over with a gut wrenching numbness as it dawned on her what he was saying.

Emily never died on that table like JJ had said. She had never died at all.

“What?” Her voice was tiny and childlike when it came out, and she felt like she was stuck in the world’s worst nightmare, like she could claw and scratch and rip at her skin just to wake herself up from this terrifying dream where Hotch had lied and Emily had left her and everyone who was supposed to care about her had kept her in the dark.

“She’s alive?” Garcia asked, tears in her own green lined eyes, looking at Hotch with utter shock.

“But we buried her,” Spencer found it in himself to murmur, because none of this made sense and if any of what Hotch was saying was true, then he knew things were about to become really ugly.

“As I said I take full responsibility for the decision; if anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me,” And it was only then he looked at Bugsy fully, properly, since he had opened his mouth.

He could have swore he had never seen such complete and utter betrayal written across someone’s face, let alone directed towards him. Because he knew that’s what it was. He knew he had taken every scrap and shred of trust she had placed in him since that day she ran away from her own wedding and found herself stuck in that very same office, hugging him tightly with her sodden veil and even more soaked white dress, he had taken everything vulnerable she had ever given him and spat it right back at her.

He felt like crying but before he could think too hard about it, he saw Emily walking down the hall and her own face was just as, if not more, devastated than his own and he knew he had to be the one to stay strong.

Garcia’s head snapped to the doorway, the sight of it leading Spencer and Rossi to do the same, and Morgan’s face morphed into anguish when he took a look for himself.

Because there, looking like a glowing beacon of everything they’d been missing in seven months, was Emily Prentiss, alive and well.

She seemed lost for words, her eyes falling to her sister who seemed to force herself to look up at her from where she was staring in wide eyed terror at the table, as if she was struggling to comprehend any of this, or like the building was falling down around her and she was in complete fight, flight or freeze.

But she did, she looked up at her after a second, her face unrecognisable to Emily for a moment, and it took all of three moments where she seemed relieved to see her, before it curled into a vitriolic anger Emily had never, never seen from her.

She looked like she was ready to kill her with her bare hands herself.

Penelope was first out of her seat, practically flying across the room to grab her close friend in a hug, a complete bubble of sobs and wails, her pigtails shaking with her rattling chest as Emily hugged her tight to her.

“Oh, my god, it’s real-you’re real- like I can actually touch you and you’re safe and not in that god awful box-” Penelope was a catalyst for the rest of the team standing up to take their turn crying on the woman’s shoulder.

That is, the rest of the team except Bugsy.

She remained in her seat, her gaze falling back to the mess of files that all of a sudden felt a complete waste of time, felt irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Who cared who was Doyle’s financial advisor between the years of 2005 and 2007 when Emily was alive and they had known the whole time.

And the more she thought, the more furious she got. And then the more furious she got, the stiller she became; an atomic bomb ready to detonate at the slightest prod.

“I am so sorry, I really am,” Emily said as Spencer had wrapped his giant arms around her tentatively, smelling her perfume and feeling his heart ache with how warm and alive and healthy her body felt. “Not a day went by that I didn’t-”

But a sound cut her off, one none of them were expecting in the slightest.

Bugsy was laughing.

Not the sweet chirp she normally gave, or the hearty one that came from her gut that they hadn’t heard in months, but something manic. Something frenzied, beserk. Deranged.

Hotch’s head snapped to her, Emily’s too, though she had already taken note of the fact her sister hadn’t so much as moved from her feet, and stupidly she had hoped it was the shock sinking in.

But her eyes were cruel, her teeth more of a snarl than a smile and the laugh she gave was that of a person over the edge.

The straw that broke the camel’s back, she believed it was called.

“She never made it off the table,” Bugsy imitated woefully, her eyes snapping to JJ, who felt smaller than she ever had under the hatred in them, though the girl’s nasty smile hadn’t let up, “You are good, Jennifer. You really got me there, hey maybe if the agent thing doesn’t work out then acting is alway an option for you,”

“Bug-” Hotch started, only for her to stand up so harshly her chair nearly tipped back, but she didn’t seem to care as she rounded the table towards him in a bitter chuckle.

“And you! I didn’t know you had it in you. But very good, Hotch, very well played out. For a second I thought you actually gave a fuck about me,” She fist bumped his shoulder, a little harsher than something innocent behind it, before something spiteful settled in her tone, “But then again, you are nothing if not professional, aren’t you? I guess a suicide on your team would look terrible on your report card,”

“I think you need to calm down and let’s talk about this for a second,” Hotch tried to jump in, his brows furrowed enough to make him look annoyed but anyone with two eyes could see the worry that brewed there, that chased her as she retreated to where her jacket was slung over the back of her seat. She laughed again viciously, shaking her head. Grabbing her coat, she headed for the door where Emily stood helplessly, not knowing what to say for the best, and she thought for a minute her little sister was going to address her.

But she didn’t; didn’t even look her way as she approached, and it wasn’t until Hotch rounded the room after her with a fixed gaze she showed any sign of stopping. Not until he reached for her arm with a tight grip, a call of her name, did she even halt in her step.

“Stop, let’s just talk,”

“Let go of me,” Bugsy snapped, and it was the first time she actually gave way to the anger she felt, the amusement coming from a place of distraught long gone. She sounded pissed.

“Listen to me, we had no choice here,” Hotch barked, because it was the only way he could communicate when he felt this lost. And that’s what he was; he was losing her. They all were. “And I would have thought you’d be able to stop being so spoiled for one god damn second to see we were protecting-”

Her palm whirled around faster than he could have ever anticipated, slapping clean and sharp against his cheek, hard enough the air was sucked out of the room and his words died in his throat.

Penelope gasped. Spencer’s eyes widened. Emily took a heavy gulp.

“Bugsy!” Emily said in horror, and it was then her little sister’s eyes actually set on hers, every bit as cruel and hateful she’d expected.

“I want nothing to do with you, do you hear me? I don’t want to talk to you, or see you, don’t even speak that name, I don’t want it from you anymore,” Bugsy pointed at her with crooked, bitten nails Emily knew all too well, “You left me. You left me.”

With those three choked words, the other’s could only watch hurricane Bugsy whirl and burn and crash her way out of the room.

–

She sat on the steps to the federal building, perfectly dressed agents filtering around her with the occasional tut in disgust.

She couldn’t really blame them; her face was wet with tears, she was pretty sure there was snot running out of her nose hastily, and between her free hand, the other of which was pulling at her hair, was a cigarette that swirled its grey smoke around her head with a horribly addictive smell.

She heard footsteps approaching her from the back, different from the rest, and felt someone stop beside her, sliding to their ass on the step.

“Spencer, if you’re going to tell me this is taking seven minutes off my life then please can it wait for another day-” Bugsy started with a tearful cadence, only to be cut off by a woman’s voice.

“I was actually going to ask if you had a lighter,” Erin Strauss said, pulling her own menthol cigarette between her lips, and Bugsy dug around her pocket for the cheap ‘I <3 Virginia’ lighter she had snagged on New Years, clicking the flame out long enough for her boss’s boss to light the tip, “I heard you gave Aaron a shock,”

Bugsy stayed silent, taking a drag that burnt her lips and tasted awful, but it was the only thing she could turn to that would calm her even in the slightest, even if it was just the chemicals.

“Bit of an understatement,” She mused, exhaling softly with a frown, “Did you know?”

“Are you going to slap me too if I said yes?” Erin asked, and Bugsy gave a small, wet chuckle, shaking her head, “Would it matter if I did?”

“No, I guess not,” She replied, breathing in through her nose, “I want to feel sorry, but all I feel is just … empty. Why did JJ and Hotch know what happened to her but she didn’t think to tell her own sister?”

“Probably because you’re the one she loves the most,” Strauss picked over the hem of her navy blue midi dress that had been pressed neatly just that morning, and now here she was sitting on the steps to her building helping a girl in crisis chainsmoke, “It was how she ended up there in the first place, right? Because she wanted to protect you,”

“She left me torturing myself for months that her death was all my fault; believe me protection was not what I needed,” Bugsy said harshly, her final drag reaching the brown stub, and she scowled as she doubted it on the concrete floor below her, tucking her knees up to her face and resting her head on them.

Erin sighed, patting her on the back gently, not wanting to cross any lines for such a fragile girl, but not wanting to leave her entirely alone either.

“Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family.” Strauss quoted, taking one more breath of her own cigarette before she squished it under her heel quickly. “Paul Pearsall,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bug asked quietly, tilting her head onto her cheek to look over at the woman.

“It means you can hate her as much as you can right now, but sooner or later, you’re going to need her, or she’s going to need you, and you’ll wish you never pushed each other away,”

2. The one where you pretend to be a couple.

Her hair was shorter, Bugsy noted, where she saw the back of her sister’s head from her desk. It looked nice, not that she would tell her that.

She wouldn’t tell her anything.

It had been eight weeks, three of which Bugsy had spent taking a leave of absence and been forced to see the designated federal councillor for her behaviour towards Hotch. She had gone to the handful of sessions to keep him off her back, but had stayed quiet for most of them, except the one where she got the psychologist to tell her the dirt on her recent, messy break up so they’d have something to talk about at least.

She had only really been speaking to Spencer the weeks since she had returned to work, had handed the slip of paper that declared her fit to work to Hotch with a smug look on her face, daring him to extend her sick leave as punishment for the tantrum she’d thrown.

She knew it was dragging, knew most of the team were at least trying to adjust to the shellshock of Emily being back from the dead, but then again, the rest of the team hadn’t been writing their own eulogy so the burden wouldn’t fall onto someone else if they ever found her unresponsive.

In the time Emily had supposedly been dead, her mind had wandered someone cold and dark and alone. Worse than any of them had ever thought it had been, worse than they gave her credit for.

Only for it to be fake. As though she was the star of her own Truman show, with a laugh track playing on loop in the back; her own friends, people she’d considered family, watching her kicking and screaming and fighting through every breath for some sort of relief from the pain, a pawn in their little sitcom of horrors.

Morgan had forgiven her sister with little resistance. She’d always known that, to Morgan, trust was higher than anything in his books. Yet with some soft words and tears shed, Derek had cracked and accepted Emily back warmly like nothing had happened. Rossi and Penelope had just been happy to see her, happy to have her back and very much not dead, so convincing them she was innocent had been no big feat. The only other person who had put up nearly as much fight as her had been Spencer. He had told her about the spat he and JJ had gotten into for being an accomplice to their pain, but even he was beginning to warm back up to her sister, not that she could really blame him.

Emily was putting in overtime trying to get back into her good books, while she couldn’t even stand to look at her without remembering how hard she’d cried when she realised Nico and Sergio would be in her apartment alone and confused if she had been sad enough to do something rash.

“Good Morning,” Emily’s voice was nails in a chalkboard, two arms winding over her shoulder to plonk two take out coffees in front of her and Spencer, one with his name written in black ink on the lid and the other with a dozen hearts dotted over the cup, a little doodle of a lady bug and a bumble bee cuddling. What she supposed was meant to be the two of them.

Spencer watched Bugsy fight the urge to roll her eyes, surprisingly somewhat progress for her since the first two weeks of Emily even being near her resulted in the two of them screaming at one another until they were separated. Emily was growing tired of being punished for trying to keep her sister safe, Bugsy was full of hatred for every lie they had told her.

But he saw the way she immediately knocked the coffee into the trash without a second thought, ignoring the fact she would need to take out a very heavy and wet bin liner later, if only to drive the point home to her older sister. I don’t want your charity.

Emily faltered for a second, her eyes snapping to him as if he could do or say anything to help her out, but he could only give her one of his awkward, straight smiles, because he had absolutely no intention of pushing Bugsy to heal any faster than she was doing like everyone else was, nor did he want Emily to feel like he didn’t care she was hurting too.

Emily gave a resigned nod, daring to pat her sister on the shoulder. “Better in the trash than thrown over my face, right?”

She moved away from the woman’s desk, shooting a disheartened look at Reid as she passed him and he murmured ‘thankyou’ for his own coffee, until the sound of JJ calling them into the round table room cut off whatever she was going to say back.

Spencer thoughtlessly handed Bugsy his own latte, smothered with caramel and cream the way he liked it, and she took an appreciative sip without a word.

He hadn’t brought up that night, hadn’t spoken about the way she’d pressed her lips to his for a split second the night Morgan had dragged her over to his apartment to sober up. And because she hadn’t brought it up either, he assumed she didn’t want to talk about it anymore than she wanted to talk about what had got her there in the first place.

He had helped her brush her own teeth more than once in the early days of her grief, hell he had even had her lips against his, so when she handed him the coffee cup back, he didn’t think much of it when he continued drinking the hot caffeinated goodness.

Bugsy was wired differently in his brain, everything about her was different than how he felt about everyone else. So if she didn’t want to talk about kissing him, if she wanted to forget it ever happened, then he would swallow his feelings and accept she didn’t ever want to do it again. If she wanted to keep the bond they had carefully crafted through days and months and weeks of being each other’s solace, then he wouldn’t fight it. Because he didn’t want to ruin it either.

He just nudged her gently with his shoulder as they meandered up the stairs to the round table room, looking at her with the puppy dog eyes that usually followed her around when she was in one of her silent moods.

“You okay?” He asked carefully, noting the way she tugged her files to her chest, smiling up at him nevertheless. Because she could never be mad at him, it was Spencer.

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” She said, lowering her voice as Morgan trailed behind the two of them his own mug of fresh brewed coffee sloshing in his hand, “Pretend like you don’t forgive her for my sake. I want you to be friends again if that’s what you want,”

She’d noticed his sheepish glances when he met Emily’s gaze, unmoving from her side like he wanted to make it clear he was there for her above everything else. But she saw how he would smile and joke with her sister when he thought she was in the bathroom, or when they would return from a crime scene, working together again like a well oiled machine.

They were still friends, even if she felt sick every time she saw her sister’s noir black bangs flick her way, even if her heart was aching and her chest heavier than she would have ever let on.

“But you’re upset with her?” Spencer muttered back, with a frown on his face, “I’m upset you got so hurt by the whole thing. I’m essentially hurt by proxy,”

She snickered, leaning into his side for a moment, pulling away when they reached Rossi’s office and began walking past the long window she saw everyone settling down behind, “I appreciate that, Spence, I do. But you were her friend first, and she’s my sister. It’s different for you guys. And it’s not like we’re dating, because then I’d be allowed to be upset if you were still friends with her,” She explained lightly, though she felt her chest pick up at the very fact she had let that silly little dating word slip past her lips.

She had no idea where they were. He was the only thing keeping her together some days, the only one who understood her for all her silly, complex feelings and didn’t make her feel dumb or crazy for feeling the world so deeply. He was special to her in a way no guy had ever even come close.

She just wished she hadn’t made such an idiot of herself that night with Morgan; wished she remembered anything of what was said or done, because things had felt electrified since then and she had no idea why. All she knew was she was falling harder for him every time he stood so close, or offered her his drink, or every time they had a movie night at his and fell asleep on his couch pressed together like they were meant to be that way forever.

He sighed, still stuck on the situation, and shot her a frown, “I’ll never understand the rules,” Though he hoped she didn’t see how his cheeks tinged pink at the fact she’d brought up whatever it was between them too.

Because he wasn’t entirely talking about her and Emily. Sometimes, he really didn’t understand the rules of telling your best friend you were in love with her.

The press was calling him “The Circle of Eight killer,” no matter how much media liaison JJ had tried to do to stop them from giving him notoriety and possibly boosting an already inflated ego. But the team had already managed to profile that the killings were some sort of ritual the UnSub was using to turn his luck on a gambling addiction, or whatever suspicion he had mentally linked from the victims needing to die and being dealt a royal flush.

“Eighty eight dollars, the UnSub’s getting generous,” She said grimly, her gloved fingers counting the wad of cash tossed over the victim’s body. Where they had usually found eight, single dollar bills and an eight card of any suit, his signature seemed to have changed on the most recent body and he had dumped a much larger sum of money, “There’s more remorse with this kill too; shot from behind so he didn’t have to see the victim when he did it,”

Bugsy slipped the cash into a clear baggie to send to forensics to see if they could pull prints, but then again bills usually gave a million possible UnSubs with how many people touched them. “There’s less rage here, an undoing,” Emily chimed in, her own gloved fingers checking the victim’s pockets for anything off.

When they were in the field, Bug could hold her eye rolls and sharp tongue and resting bitch face for the sake of helping the victim’s families find closure. Because, despite how much she seethed in private about how Hotch, JJ and her own sister had conspired without her, she knew she could choke it down if it meant she could help someone, if it meant no one else had to grieve as deeply and gut wrenching as she had when Emily ‘died’.

“There’s no sign of robbery either, wallet is still intact except his ID,” Spencer added, standing back from the body while Bugsy handed the evidence off to CSI and the chief on the case headed their way.

“Is it even the same guy?” Agent Goslin asked, looking between Hotch and Emily for an explanation, Hotch shaking his head with a stoney look on his already tired face.

“The ritual’s too similar to discount,” He said, Bugsy frowning and tugging her lip between her teeth in thought.

“The change in MO makes sense if the UnSub is still refining his system, maybe killing the cashier at the gas station didn’t work so he’s back to the drawing board.” Emily speculated, her little sister nodding along with her in the first sign of agreement she’d seen all day.

“Two eights instead of one could also be significant; I know in China the number eight symbolises prosperity, the more eights the better. As a matter of fact, in Chengdu, a telephone number consisting of all eights recently sold for over a quarter of a million dollars,” Spencer said, and Bugsy flashed a look up at him, her eyes thoughtful.

“In ancient Egypt, the number seven represented completion in this life while the number eight represented success through ambition and determination in your reincarnated life,” She replied, peeling the gloves down her hands as they clung to her skin with tight clamminess, “And the eight pointed star is associated with the Babylonian goddess, Ishtar, or the light bringer,”

He nodded with her and he hated to admit that he loved that she managed to fill in the gaps in his own knowledge, like they were two puzzle pieces finding a way to fit together; like they were two halves cleaved from the same brain that hadn’t stopped growing in the entirety of her twenty seven years.

That, and he’d always found her brain one of the most attractive things about her. One of the long list he could think of.

“Why would he be doubling up on his luck out here, away from all the casinos?” Emily asked, because she was trying not to stand in awe of her sister’s fat brain that rivalled even their pretty boy.

“There’s been another killing,” Agent Goslin stated, hanging up the phone with a tense frown on her face, “A guest in his room at the Sapphire Lady,”

“Same ritual?” Hotch asked without a pause, because they were on body number five now and they were barely closer to understanding him than they were a few hours ago.

“No. His neck was broken. And he was robbed of $50,000.” Goslin replied, shaking her head, “Strange thing is? The killer left another $20,000 behind with the body,”

“Money isn’t his motive here,” Bugsy input, crossing her arms while Hotch got on the phone to Garcia, “Atleast, not that guy’s money,”

“Garcia, is there a casino in the neighbourhood of Penrose and Morningside Avenue?” He asked, clicking the perky woman onto speakerphone.

They heard a quick clatter of typing, “Uhhh, No casinos per se, but there’s a private gambling establishment right around the corner.” She replied helpfully, with another bout of her long, delicately painted nails against her keyboard.

“Is it legal?”

“Yeah, but it’s ultra exclusive. They have a monthly high-stakes poker tournament,” She paused for a second, “Today being the day for the month, coincidentally enough,”

“Or no coincidence at all,” Emily said, as they began putting together exactly where this chain of events had come from.

“What’s the buy in?” Bugsy asked, though she already guessed the answer.

“Yikies, $50,000,” And with that Bug and Reid exchanged a knowing look, her suspicion confirmed, “But, it’s a million dollar guarantee if you win,”

“What time does it start?” Hotch asked, Bugsy already rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingertip, willing herself not to be right about what they were going to do.

“Later this evening,” Pen replied and Hotch thanked her, hanging up the phone. A second of silence spread around the crime scene.

“So, if anyone’s got fifty k lying around, now would be a great time to share with the group,” Busgy humoured herself with a straight face, realising the paperwork that would almost definitely be declined if Strauss had anything to say about it the would enable them to borrow fifty thousand from the government.

Because if they missed their chance tonight, she had no clue when they would get another.

–

“Any luck?” JJ asked, Emily sat to her right, Rossi across from her. Spencer and Bugsy sat on the end of the table, the girl breaking a KitKat in half to share with him, which he accepted happily.

“No, they don’t want to allocate emergency funds for the buy-in, I’m still working on it,” Hotch said shortly, his phone blowing up with messages, no doubt needing a lot more details if they were really going to get the money they needed.

“Well, I can’t imagine why not, we’re only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money, so that FBI agents can play Texas Hold ‘em,” Rossi drawled, shaking his head with a cynical humour that was all they had to hold onto while they waited in limbo.

“Hey, what about you?” Emily asked, something mischievous in her eyes as she watched David freeze in his seat, so like the old Emily that Bugsy felt her stomach turn.

“What about me what?” David said with a frown, pausing in his writing for a moment.

“You could stake us the buy-in,” She suggested, and the other three members of the team turned their attention back to Rossi’s palling face.

“You’re a best selling author,” Spencer chimed in, devouring the last of the chocolatey biscuit snack as she pulled another out of her bag.

“No,” Rossi replied, slightly wide eyed at the suggestion of it, to which Emily jumped in.

“Why not?”

“One, it’s against regulations and I’d like to hold onto this job for a little while longer.” David said, his arms out in a defensive stance towards the four people who suddenly felt like his kids asking for the newest IPhone on the market for Christmas.

“It’s a minor administrative violation,” Bugsy pointed out between bites, offering the second half again to her best friend who took it without delay.

She could have given the whole thing to him to start with, and had the first one for herself, it would have ended the same, but she liked sharing with him. She liked being the one to split things with him when he cringed in horror at other people touching his food.

“And, two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork,”

“Poker chips are things!” Emily tried to reason, but it only ended with David scoffing in her cheeky, hopeful face.

“Maybe just think of it as a new experience, I mean at your age how often does that happen?” Spencer said innocently, licking the chocolate from the tips of his fingers, noticing how Bugsy tensed up and Rossi slowly turned in his seat to face the BAU’s youngest members.

“At my what?” He asked in an aghast tone, Bug grabbing onto Spencer’s forearm with a gentle squeeze.

“Reel it in, reel it in,” She whispered, and he looked at her with a lost expression, willing her to explain to him where he had gone wrong, because he knew she would, “What he meant to say was this may be our only chance to get this guy,”

David chewed his words for a second, as if he was trying not to bite at the kids who looked between one another hopefully, and he wondered if this was what being a father felt like; handing his credit card over to two twenty something year olds and watching his bank deposit plummet in seconds.

“All right. Fine.” He sighed heavily like he’d seen the fifty thousand burned there and then, “I’m a decent poker player, but I can’t promise that I can stay in the game long enough to…”

“You know what? I bet you’re a great poker player,” Emily started kindly, her gaze drifting over to the hazel hues that watched between them curiously, “But what if we sent in Reid?”

“I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump because of my card counting ability,” Spencer said, and Bugsy rolled her eyes.

“They can’t ban you for maths, that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” She said, nudging his side with her shoulder, “They hate to see an underdog win, it’s Rocky all over again,”

“Tell me about it,” He murmured back, even though he had never watched any of the Rocky movies, he just liked humouring her.

“Look I know I’m not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not black jack. It’s about bluffing; reading human nature, head games.” Rossi pointed at Reid, who badgered over Bugsy’s shoulder for the cookies she had packed in her rucksack, “The kid does not have a poker face.”

“Which is why we’re going to send him with someone who does,” JJ chimed in, and it was then that the youngest members of the team looked up from where they had cracked open the packet of chocolate chip delights, near identical looks of innocence painted on their faces, like they really were kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Bugsy looked between JJ and Rossi, who had equal parts hopeful and worried looks on their faces, before she glanced over to Spencer to see if he had any explanation. He looked as lost as she did.

“Huh?” She asked cluelessly, as Rossi buried his head in his hands.

At this rate was going to have to remortgage his house for wedding number four, he thought sourly.

–

“I swear to god if this dress rides up anymore, it will be me who’s charging fifty thousand per head,” Bugsy growled, her hands frantically tugging the dress down her legs more. She couldn’t deny it was a beautiful dress, bunched around certain areas that made the most of her body, but goodness was it shorter than she would have ever picked out for herself. She was the last person to be a prude when it came to showing off just how alluring she could look when she made an effort, but this was something else.

It was a striking red, meant to match the ruby of her lipstick and the vermillion of the diamonds and hearts on the cards spread around the tables in the room, flushed in between little plastic chips worth thousands of dollars, handfuls of dice being tossed over the green velvet surfaces, deciding whether the players lost their cars or paid off their kids college fund.

They queued up to be patted down, as if they were heading through airport security or into a packed nightclub. A handful of bouncers waved metal detectors over patron’s clothing, dipping hands into coat pockets, trousers, even some shoes were ordered off in the name of a fair game. She swore she had never seen so many sets of weighted dice confiscated off one man who swore blind as he was kicked out.

“Only fifty? You could rinse them for a hundred at least,” Spencer replied, his arm entwined behind her back, if not to hold her up in the clunky heels one of the women on Goslin’s task force had loaned her along with the dress. She smirked at him, pressing herself closer to him when they both saw a dozen eyes shoot towards her as they entered the building, and he tightened his grip just the slightest with a calculating coolness.

He wished his cheeks didn’t feel so hot feeling her body so close to his, wished she hadn’t made such an effort to look the part of the expensive call girl they knew the UnSub had a history with, not because he didn’t like it, but because she made everything a little more difficult when she looked like that.

He was having a hard time trying to calm the way his manhood brushed against his pants whenever she showed some of that saccharine affection, even though he knew it wasn’t real. Or atleast, was an extreme version of the love she usually showed him.

The bouncers called them up next, and he let her go first, because getting her through would be easy. He was the one with the panic alarm disguised as a shot of Halitosis in his pocket.

Spencer would never admit that his eyes fell straight down to the curves of her butt that seemed to be spotlighted by that damn dress.

Why did she have to look so irresistible? He supposed that was the point; he was the mysterious young gambler that was going to keep them in the game long enough to spot the UnSub, she was the attractive, woman of the night brought only to boost his ego and as his good luck charm. She certainly wasn’t the only one, she’d already seen a handful of other women, tall as models and so toned it looked as though they hit the gym every morning and didn’t leave until sundown, primped and primed for their player’s delight.

They were ten times better looking than she was, but to Spencer, she was the only woman in the room who he was envisioning ripping that dress right off.

She was making it very hard, no pun intended, for him to accept the idea of them as just friends.

The bouncer patted her down, Bugsy flashing him a cheeky smile just a little too forced for it to be one of her real ones, when the woman patted around her waist and hips for any hidden pockets or stashed bills.

“You wish this was you, huh, baby?” She teased him with a wicked look in her eyes, and he could only smirk back, hoping his blush didn’t give him away as quick as he reckoned it did.

He felt his knees weaken, worrying he might just fall to the ground there and then and be forced to crawl towards her if he had any hope of getting into the casino alive, but even that sent a new wave of lewd thoughts through his head, and he was grateful when the other bouncer called him forward to inspection.

The muscled guy waved a metal detector over his torso, moving down to his trouser legs where he wondered with cynical humour if the rod he now sported in his pants painfully would set off the alarm. It didn’t, and he begged his crotch to let up even the slightest if he had any hope of keeping his head on his shoulders during this game, but the detector sprung to life the minute it waved over the alarm in his pocket.

He produced the medical looking device, one they’d already planned and checked for faults, showing the fake prescription clearly to the guard, “Halitosis,”

The guy seemed to frown, took another look over the gangly guy who was with a woman way, way out of his league. A woman who waited for him after her own inspection, a very real diamond necklace that had been a sixteenth birthday present from Steph around her neck, courtesy of her dad’s bank account and ten years worth of emotional distance. Whether he took pity on Spencer because Bugsy looked like the kind of girl who could chew up a guy like him and spit him right back out, or he really didn’t care about his medical condition, he didn’t know, but he waved him through without another thought, and they both took a sigh of relief.

“You want a drink?” He asked nonchalantly as possible, wrapping his arm around her waist again, and he tried to not let his flustered demeanour show when he found slits cut into the side of the fabric, and he felt the softness of her hips under his fingertips.

“My treat, to get you started,” Bugsy replied, something unreadable in the teasing of her eyes, and she leaned up to his jaw to steal a quick kiss there like any other girl wanting to be paid the full sum of her night would have done.

At least that’s what she told herself, pretending as if her brazen action hadn’t caused her heart rate to spike.

She got him an iced tea, because she knew he wouldn’t want alcohol, and got herself a half shot Moscow Mule, sipping the lime rim appreciatively.

“See anything yet?” She asked under her breath, one hand trailing over the back of his neck, playing with the curls that sat there with vixen sly eyes that scanned the room.

He forced himself not to moan at the sensation, and he worried it was too obvious to the other patrons in the gambling room just how easily he melted beneath her fingertips. He felt like a dog drooling after a bone, like she was shaking a lead in his face and asking for walkies, and he was panting beneath her, tail wagging and dopey eyed.

Not the look of suave, mysterious stranger they were initially going for when they were coming up with identities for their covers. But at least it sold the part of a man desperate to win the jackpot if it meant he could spend the night with the siren woman that clung to him with a giggly sip of her pink straw.

“No one looking particularly suspicious,” He noted; everyone was almost too good at a poker face, though he supposed that it made sense seeing the value of the prize pool, “You are getting a lot of attention however,”

And she was. In fact, he was quick to take her hand in his own free one when he saw a group of men dressed to the nines, solid gold rings along their knuckles, diamond encrusted Rolexs staring back at him from their wrists, their faces dead yet starved when they drank in every inch of her skin, their eyes falling to where her dress rode up high, as she had whined about the entire way there.

She chuckled, and something about it sounded like her own, not the woman she’d had to become for the evening, and she kissed where his jaw clenched in annoyance, “Not from anyone that matters, boy wonder,”

And he felt his heart rest for a moment, because as long as she was with him he knew he could shift that big brain of his into gear. He loved nothing more than the click he felt when he was with her, like their brains and bodies just seemed to bluetooth to one another and they weren’t Spencer and Bugsy they were just them. A since cell amoeba.

He smiled at her, and she preened under his attention, so genuinely her that he felt the vignette that had clouded his vision shift into focus, and he knew he could find their UnSub if she was there with him.

He sat at the nearest table to them that was about to deal in, and within twenty minutes he was racking up a nice, fat pile of poker chips next to his iced tea.

Bugsy knew he was a smart man, knew he was good at magic tricks, but if he had turned to her then and there and pulled a rabbit out her ear hole she wouldn’t have questioned him otherwise. Watching him play was something else.

It was entirely sordid, the whole hour of his first game was spent trying to keep her focus on any patrons sat at their table and the rest that seemed to be twitching, whilst also trying not to look awed at just how amazing his brain was when he won damn near every time.

But she did manage to rip her eyes off him when she could, not enough to seem suspicious, just enough to scan the area for someone who could be their UnSub, her eyes quickly jumping to the guy on the table across from them with a large magic 8-ball tattoo across his bicep, unsurprisingly already looking her head to toe as he waited for his hand to be dealt out. He winked at her, a smarmy, cocky grin on his face, almost too confident in his ability to be someone to turn to suspicions and rituals in order to win.

A serious contender, but nothing that screamed their UnSub.

She looked around a little more, ignoring the handful of men who tried to grab her attention, who thought they were somewhat validated or interesting for having her look at them for a split second. They were just part of the wallpaper compared to Spencer anyway.

It wasn’t until she spotted a guy in a baseball cap a few paces away from them fiddling with yet another magic 8-ball, though this time a key chain, giving it a gentle touch every time he picked up his hand as if it really had the power to change the values once they’d been dealt.

From the quick glance she got of his face, he seemed to be running on an hour’s sleep tops. His eyes were rimmed redder than her lipstick, and his hair was damp with sweat and grease against his temple.

Unstable if there ever was a man for the word.

She quickly looked back to Spencer’s cards, her hands weaving over his shoulders to rub his muscles gently, the signal that she’d seen something important masked as an affectionate gesture.

The House called the end of the round, Spencer being awarded a heaped pile of tens, hundreds even a small few thousands thrown in there, to which he collected onto his tray they had handed him at the door.

Bugsy leaned down with a girlish squeal, giving him another big, cherry lipped kiss to his cheek, to which he felt himself blush under immediately. Quickly dodging to whisper into his ear, it looked to the other patrons as if she was simply promising him an even bigger reward later for his winnings in exchange, “Nine O’Clock at table two, guy in the green jacket has an eight ball keyring he ritually plays with before drawing,”

Spencer nodded, standing from the table with his winnings, using Bugsy’s as an excuse to angle himself to where she was talking about. He pulled her to him effortlessly, his long arms wrapping over her bare back, his neck craning over her shoulder to serveill the table she had indicated, and she quickly hugged him back with that fake giggle of hers, her body pressing to his desperately like the other ladies of the night he had seen with men three times their age.

He clocked who she was talking about almost immediately, running a hand down her spine and squeezing her waist gently to let her know he’d seen him.

They moved in tandem, just like they always had.

A hostess came over to them, all big smiles and a tight fitted black dress, a log book in her arms of where everyone was sitting in the next round to keep a fair game. Bugsy took a look at him, wiping away the smudged lipstick on his cheek with a loving swipe of her thumb, nodding at him for a small bout of reassurance.

“I’m going to go get another drink, honey,” She said loud enough for the hostess to hear, as she flashed him a flirty smile, “Don’t forget to wait for your lucky charm,”

He bristled, a smile twitching at his lips at that, “I wouldn’t dare,”

Because her message was clear. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m updating the team.

She swanned through the crowd as if she owned the place, but then again a packed scene had never been an issue for her. She felt through her concealed inseam of the tiny cardigan she draped over her shoulders, until she felt the long bullet shaped object stuffed into a tampon wrapper that Penelope had geniously planted there to look like a feminine product.

Her own alarm, the one meant to let the team know they had sights on the guy and to be ready. It was Spencer’s that would give them the signal to enter.

She was fiddling with the damn thing when she felt it, a sharp crack across her ass as she was walking towards the bar, heard the laughter in the second she froze up.

Turning on her heel with a tight expression, the anger burnt hot in her eyes when she saw the guy with the tattoo who had been trying to get her attention not even a half hour ago, watched him sidling up to her with a conceited smile.

“So, has that twiglet over there paid for you in advance or are you going home with the highest bidder?” He said, his head flicking to Spencer who now sat at table two, counting his chips out onto the table and paying himself in.

She smiled at the assailant widely, and it would have been pretty had it not been for the crazy look in her eye that twitched when he made a move to step towards her more.

“I’m spoken for in advance,” She said lightly, eyes trailing down his outfit like she was trying to commit it to memory, over his defining markers like the slit in his brow and his tattoos that looped over his hands, “But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you real soon, sweetheart,”

And she flashed him a toothy smile again, yet something was wolfish about it this time, like she was ready to lunge for him there and then.

The guy wasn’t their UnSub but he had made it to the very top of her hit list in a split second decision.

She waltzed away, securing herself another Moscow Mule she had no intention of drinking, and headed back to where Spencer was being allotted his hand of cards. Their round started, Bugsy keeping a close eye on the UnSub who sat directly to Spencer’s right, and she found a little solace in the fact he couldn't have brought in any weapons since they had all been patted down at the door.

It didn’t shake the feeling of edge the guy with the tattoo had put her into when she watched their guy flick a look over Spencer’s shoulder to look her head to toe, glancing back at Spence who was already glaring at him.

“Is she part of the winnings?” The other guy to his right chimed in, sliding a stack of hundred dollar chips into the centre, two of the players already bust as they watched the others play on for the house.

She saw her partner tense in his spine when he heard the man’s drawling voice, and she knew he was struggling to keep a lid on the facade they were putting on for the evening.

Snickering, she ran a gentle hand through his hair, down the nape of his neck with a sickeningly sweet simper, “Sorry, boys. Only person who’s taking me home tonight is the pretty boy,”

One of the guys who had already busted out scoffed, grumbling under his breath, “Lucky fucker,”

And Spencer knew it too. He felt almost rejuvenated just feeling her near, a damn near cocky smile on his face when he pushed his chips into the centre of the table, barely flicking a glance at his hand when he realised he had almost certainly secured a winning run.

Maybe she was his lucky charm, he thought cynically. Maybe he couldn’t blame the guy to his right for carrying a silly little trinket around with him in the name of luck if he was no better.

“I’m calling,” The guy on the far right declared, shuffling two piles of his chips into the middle with the total pooling.

“I’ll raise,” The UnSub cut in, grabbing some of his black thousand dollar tokens and clinking them one by one next to his opponents, “Eight thousand,”

What a surprise, eight thousand, Bug mused, squeezing onto Spencer’s shoulder again as he was quick to match the bidding and then some with his own checks.

“$8,000, that’s fifty six months’ wage for the average person in Bangladesh,” Spencer said, doubling the bet with a flick of those long fingers of his. It was heinous how much his brain managed to warm her insides, Bugsy thought, hoping she kept her poker face intact, “Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?”

The two remaining players, UnSub included, looked at him like he’d grown a second head, and Bugsy fought off the urge to laugh in their face, because for a minute he was so Spencer like all she wanted to do was quip something back equally as smart.

“Look, it’s eight thou’ to you, are you in or are you out?” The first man snapped, perhaps seethin with jealousy that the pretty woman wanted nothing to do with him or perhaps just pissed that the fresh faced teenager of a man was serving their asses up cold.

“I am in,” He moved some more chips towards them, his eyes falling back to the guy they suspected was their UnSub with a challenge in his eyes, “And I raise,”

“Three raise,” The dealer declared, and the first guy huffed in defeat.

“That’s too rich for my blood,” He growled, crossing his arms and flipping his dead cards over.

“Sir, are you in?” The dealer asked the UnSub, and for a minute his eyes snapped to Bugsy’s where she was keeping a calm look on her face despite the fact her insides were stumbling with nerves. But she never doubted Spencer’s maths, she would stake her life on it in fact.

“I’ll call,” The UnSub replied, flicking his cards over with another small token of a hundred, an okay run of cards but not an entire failure.

Spencer met it with a couple hundreds of his own, revealing his four and his eight that met the five, six, and seven he already put down. A winning flush. “Straight.”

Her smile was genuine, dazzling, when the pile of chips were pushed over to him, and she would have laughed with glee had the UnSub’s face not dropped into something devastated, borderline demented, when he saw his ritual had meant nothing. That he had lost despite killing his own friend and four more people as a sacrifice.

He was unravelling fast, and it was then Bugsy knew they had only moments to confirm he was their guy obsessed with his suspicions and that damn lucky number eight.

“I guess you won’t be needing this anymore, will you honey?” Bugsy reached over for the charm with a cheeky grin as the other patrons grumbled at their losses, only for the guy’s hand to come slamming down on top of hers with a brutal grip, hard enough she knew it was going to bruise by morning.

“Don’t,” He hissed at her, and it seemed to click with confirmation in Spencer and Bugsy’s mind there was no doubt this was their guy.

Spencer stood up to defend the woman, only for both of them to be grabbed by security second’s later.

“You’re going to let a man put his hands on a woman like that- would you relax I can walk,” Spencer snapped, watching the other security guard manhandle Bugsy just as roughly, pinning her arms behind her back, though she complied with a victorious grin, “Real tough there pal, grabbing on a woman half your size,”

“Relax honey, I got a taser in my pocket if they really want to behave like bad boys,” The bouncers looked at her in alarm, and it was the distraction Spencer needed to reach into his jacket and trigger the signal. She gave the three of them a shit eating grin, and Spencer thought he might just love her even more, “Don’t shit your pants, I’m kidding. I charge extra for the rough stuff,”

Spencer was still laughing when Hotch and Emily barged past them after the UnSub, who was by now leaving out the back door.

–

“Spencer, really, we can go back to the hotel and forget about it,” After revealing their cover with the bouncers, courtesy of one David Rossi and his famous face clearing their names, and the UnSub caught and well on the way to the nearest jail cell for questioning, Bugsy was more than tired and ready to strip out of the impossibly tight dress.

“I want to see this guy brought to justice, think of him as another UnSub,” Spencer said, his arms crossed over his chest as they sat on the bonnet of a squad car out the front of the building, the tournament slowly trickling to an end with its patrons leaving for the night.

She rolled her eyes, his jacket over her arms the only thing keeping her warm against the evening air. It would have been so much easier if they had been allowed back in, but FBI agents or not, the guards had clear rules against breaching the peace in such a high stakes game. A bad rep for having the feds show up on their busiest day of the year was not welcomed, just as much as they weren’t.

“Except he’s not murdered anyone,” She replied, eyes darting between the guests leaving with their earnings spilling out of their pockets, “He’s just some dumb asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself and- it’s him,”

The guy with the tattoos, Mike Folio as would later be printed on the police report, had barely a second to grieve his losses of the night before Spencer had him cuffed against the squad car, yelling and spitting about his rights as an American citizen.

It wasn’t until he saw the gorgeous woman donned in the candy red dress looking down at him with amusement that he felt the colour drain from his face.

“Hi sweetheart,” She smiled viciously, “I told you I’d see you again. Spence, read him the Mirandas,”

3. The one with the bank explosion

The tweed trousers irritated her thighs, the head band fluffed her hair away from her face in a way she kept trying to fix, and the brown pumps squeaked every time she walked, but her smile was dazzling nevertheless.

“Okay, the TV movie is at Hall H at nine, can we go to that?” Penelope asked, reading from the pamphlet as Bugsy and Spencer all but ran to keep up with her.

“Absolutely!” Spencer chimed in, “Do you think we can make it to the Captains of Enterprise at eleven?”

“Obvs,” Penny replied, fixing the bow tie necklace her and Bugsy had made not even the week before. She looked over at the younger woman, who had a matching K-9 pendant, because apparently FBI salaries did not take into account life sized robot dogs, “Thanks for coming with me,”

“Ofcourse, I’ve been knitting this scarf for weeks,” Spencer replied, his eyes falling down to where Bugsy donned a Sarah Jane Smith cosplay.

“Who are you going as?” She’d asked, the minute he’d asked her to go, because there were few things he did these days without her.

“The Fourth Doctor,” Spencer replied, because he had explained in length to her about the concept of regenerating and had even flicked on some of the newer series for her to watch with him, “Tom Baker’s Doctor, he’s a fan favourite,”

He showed her a picture of the time lord stood outside the TARDIS, a younger girl stood opposite him in a pink suit, large white peter pan collar hanging wide over her chest.

“Who’s that?” She asked, pointing the girl with the cute bangs and pleated skirts.

“That’s Sarah-Jane, or Sarah-Jane Smith. She’s one of the longest starring companions since she was the Third Doctor’s companion first and also was in the spin off show for her dog, K-9,” He explained, warming inside when Bugsy listened with raptured interest.

“So like, is she his girlfriend or-”

“No, no! The Doctor is often speculated to be asexual when it comes to relations with humans. Sarah Jane was one of his closest friends however, and in the Tenth Doctor’s third season he even comes back to rescue her from a wedding set up by one of his enemies,” He said, and her smile pulled out widely when an idea popped into her head.

“Well, can I be her? For your convention?” She asked, somewhat shyly, still a little unsure how the show worked in the fine details, “You know, since you saved me from my wedding?”

He paused, because she’d never really spoken about that day she’d jumped into his arms in the elevator, holding him to her like he was the only thing that made sense. Bugsy was like that alot; giving him everything he ever dreamed in the moment and then acting like it was never a big deal the next.

“S-sure! Yeah, that would be really nice.” He said, and she immediately started searching up what she should wear for it, “I didn’t really save you though, you know, you saved yourself,”

She snickered, nudging him with her shoulder, “You all saved me, I don’t know what I would have done if Em-” She stopped herself, swallowing thickly, and he saw the glow leave her eyes.

If Emily hadn’t been there.

Things were still awkward between them. There were no more catfights, thank goodness, though there also wasn’t any doting between the sisters anymore. It was like a clean break had slit between them. Emily had given up trying to warm to her, given up trying to get her to come around, and had instead taken the high road of waiting for Bugsy to make the first move.

But Bugsy was nothing if not stubborn. So Emily would be waiting a while longer.

“Hey, listen, next time I promise I’ll be the first one to object and then you can say I saved you,” Spencer joked, because he knew the subject of Emily stung her, because he knew she needed to stop thinking about it or she’d unravel into self hatred.

She chuckled aghast, “Next time? I was kind of hoping to keep the next one, Spence, whoever the unlucky guy is,”

He shook his head, a fake look of disapprovement, “Sorry, rules are rules. You wanted to be Sarah-Jane, I have to crash your wedding with the TARDIS I’m afraid,”

She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder as they flicked through the TV some more together.

“Well, I mean if those are the rules,” She simpered, snuggling under his chin, “Does this mean I get a sick robo-dog too?”

She looked every bit the part he would have ever expected her to look. Down to the maroon tie, and the white dress shirt, and the matching tweed blazer and pants that made her look embarrassingly hot.

He was about to tell her just how great she looked because she still seemed unsure, being a casual fan of the show not nearly as religious as some of the surrounding guests were, when Penelope cut them off in a near gutted voice.

“Oh my god,”

“Penelope?”

Bugsy and Spencer looked up to see Penelope’s ex beau, Kevin, dressed in a nearly identical outfit to her (though in Bug’s opinion he didn’t have the same pzazz as she did with the glitter and the sparkliness,) a red headed woman beside him donned in a police woman uniform.

“Kevin, hi, you came,” The blonde woman replied, her face mortified as she took in just how pretty the other woman was, “And you brought a friend, CSU technician Sharp, how are you?”

Hannah Sharp, from two floors below them in the BAU, grinned tightly, as if she could sense just how disastrous the situation had suddenly become, “I’m fine, uh, you?”

Bugsy gripped onto Spence’s arm tightly, hating the turn this was taking, every second of it.

“I am also fine,” Pen replied, though she looked as though she was ready to float outside of her body any minute now. “Okay, well, see ya,”

“You’re not gonna go in?” Kevin asked, his eyes crestfallen when he saw Penelope also grab onto the boy genius’ arm, and he cursed Spencer Reid for getting so many attractive women.

“Actually, we just went in and it’s super lame,” Bugsy interrupted, flashing a disjointed smile at the two of them, turning to usher her best friend away before he could call her out in her lie. “So we’re leaving,”

“Oh, okay,” Kevin replied, his date all but forgotten as the three of them made a sharp exit, a wince on the youngest Prentiss’ face when they got far enough that the girl could cringe in peace, “Well, great costumes,”

“Yeah, you too,” Penelope called back, her heels practically leaving tire marks with how fast she had sped away from her ex that was opening fresh wounds as they spoke. At work they were separated by a whole floor, so it wasn’t quite so scathing to see each other around or even hear of one another, but to be brought out in front of what she could only assume was his new woman was horrifying.

Bugsy was at her side immediately, grabbing onto her hand with a squeezing grip.

“Well, that was awkward,” Spencer noted aloud, and Bugsy lightly slapped his arm for him to shut up, her eyes wide with worry.

He looked at her in alarm, but her face told him everything he needed to know. Girl rules.

He hated girl rules. He never understood them.

“Oh my god, we used to come every year, I can’t believe he brought someone else,” Penelope sighed to the younger girl, who watched her with furrowed brows.

“Well you brought someone else,” Spencer pointed out, only to have his arm whipped at again in a chiding motion, and he watched Bugsy stroke Pen’s back with a bite in her tone.

“Girl rules, Spencer, girl rules,” He tutted at her, rolling her eyes as if they were a married couple and she was nagging him to wash the dishes.

Sometimes it felt easy like that with them. Like she really was just his best friend and not the only girl who held any sort of romantic connection to his heart.

“Yeah, someone I couldn’t possibly be attracted to,” Penelope stated, “Besides, he always thought the two of you were a thing anyway, oh god what if he thinks I’m your guys third-”

“Woah, woah, what?” Bugsy asked with wide eyes, “He thought me and Spencer were, like, dating?”

Penelope nodded, and Bugsy couldn’t even look at him without stumbling over her words.

“Well he knows we’re- like I mean we’re not even each other’s seconds so how could you be our third you know?” She said with a forced laugh, because she could feel her face going hot.

Spencer watched her tongue tie herself into oblivion, thinking of any and every excuse as to why she didn’t want dating associated to the two of them. Because how could she ever feel the same way? He was just him and she was, well, her. So incredibly, beautifully her.

It wasn’t until she bumped into an older gentleman waiting for his valet she even shut herself up.

“And I mean Kevin shouldn’t have just assumed- oh sorry,” She whirled around to apologise the man she presumed was a fan of the early seasons of the show, perhaps even around when they first aired, though the thought died in her throat when he turned around, “Oh, Rossi?”

David Rossi looked suave as ever in his age, a blazer thrown casually over his shoulder, a neat shirt and dress pants ensemble at his hips as he looked between the three of them, their costumes staring back at him entirely too colourful for a Saturday morning.

He sighed, hard.

“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” He asked with a tired voice, as Bugsy bounced back over to Spencer’s side with an incredulous look on her face.

“Are you here for the convention?” Spencer asked, excitement bubbling in his tone as Bug grabbed his forearm gently, already sensing Rossi hadn’t had nearly enough coffee to put up with them today.

“Who schedules a cigar aficionado event back to back with this?” Rossi asked, his eyes clamping on the pendant around her neck, “What is that, a robot dog?”

“K-9,” The three of them replied, and it was as if it tipped him over the edge, his hair growing whiter by the second.

“Kevin brought another woman, I’m plotting revenge. Do you want to help?” Penelope asked, her face still warm from running into the guy who was almost her fiance.

“Know where we can get any horse heads?” Bugsy asked, her expression lost in though as Penelope gasped, “What? I’m thinking go big or go home. Also, horse head in the bed means they can't have sex-”

“I’m taking that as my cue to leave,” Rossi cut in, just as his valet arrived, “Now you know I love all three of you, but this is Saturday, and it is my day off, so I’m going to love you from afar,”

He ruffled Bugsy’s hair fondly as he took his leave, throwing his blazer over the passenger seat and bidding them a wave goodbye.

They watched him go, wondering where it left them for a moment before Bugsy spoke up again, “So are we saying a definitive no to the horse head idea, because I’m sure I know a guy in college-”

“No, Bugsy,” Penelope hissed, her face scrunched in disgust, and Spencer swore she turned green, “Definitive no,”

–

They had been half way through breakfast when Spencer got an emergency call from Hotch for a team of serial killers robbing a bank downtown, hostages and guns on scene.

She had barely had time to whip the tweed blazer off her shoulders, keeping the shirt and pants on as Derek threw her a kevlar vest.

“It’s definitely them,” Will said in his soft Southern drawl, JJ embracing him tightly to her with a worried expression. It had been him and his partner first on the scene, though unfortunately things had not ended well for her when they had ran into the three UnSubs slipping out the back of the bank and had engaged in a shoot out; Will’s partner getting a bullet to the head almost immediately, and Will narrowly escaping unscathed, but not before he managed to gun down one of the UnSubs in the stomach.

So there they were, the UnSubs back inside the bank for safety since they were now surrounded by the city police, the FBI, the SWAT team and a handful of ambulances and medics on standby.

“I only saw the King and the Jack but I figured the Queen’s inside too,” He added, JJ peeling herself from his side as they headed towards the building.

“The media's calling them the face cards,” Hotch informed his team, all eight of them decked in their thickest vests and weapons loaded in full, “Seven bank robberies in seven months. They’ve killed one person at each robbery,”

“MO?” Rossi asked, now dressed out of his smart, Saturday wear and something more akin to his usual business attire.

“Single gun shot wound, each of the victims has bled out,” Hotch replied, and it wasn’t until they turned the corner towards the bank did Bugsy realise just how packed the street was with law enforcement.

Three or four choppers circled overhead with snipers and back up SWAT teams at the ready.

“Serial killers with a thirty day cooling off period, and we’re only just hearing about this now?” Emily asked in an incredulous tone, her voice raised to accommodate the shouting between other chiefs and their units.

“Headquarters characterised them as robbers first, killers second,” Hotch said, his hands on his hips as they all assessed the situation from afar. Naturally a few new anchors had pulled up to the scene as well and were setting up their equipment despite the officers trying to corral them away.

“Oh yeah? How did that turn out for them?” Bugsy grumbled behind her thick, dark sunglasses, biting her lip from saying worse.

“I disagreed with the original assessment, I was overruled,” Her chief shot back, because things had been just as cold between them since that day as they had with Emily.

JJ was slowly reaching out the olive branch in her direction, and if it wasn’t for Henry being so darn cute every time he begged ‘Buggy’ to come play with him, she reckoned JJ would have taken even longer to forgive as well.

“Why are we here now?” Rossi chimed in, eyes locked on Aaron’s frown, that seemed to harden every step they took closer to the bank.

“Because crisis negotiation is overseas.”

“What do we know about them?” JJ jumped in straight away with the problem solving, because even if they were out in the field and not in their pretty little round table room anymore, the UnSubs were still just pictures on a white board needing that red string to connect them all together.

“They’re organised, they're efficient,” Hotch fired off, mentally running through whether he had loaded the pistol he kept around his calf for emergencies, “Each strike lasts about two minutes,”

Derek’s face scrunched in confusion, “They gotta be scouting out the banks in advance, why haven’t we been able to ID them off of surveillance footage?”

“They hacked the security feed and turn off the cameras both during the initial canvas and during the robbery, until the masks come back on and then were allowed to watch” Hotch replied, and the eight of them slipped into the base of operation for the day; a wide trailer converted to house the high tech computers Penelope needed to keep an eye on the cameras with those magic skills of hers.

Bugsy’s eyes landed on the black and white feed of inside the bank, her heart lurching in her throat when she saw well over forty men, women and children lined on their knees execution style, facing the doors to the bank to act as a shield if the snipers did happen to get a shot through the windows.

The woman took the lead, a mask over her face with a doll-like expression on it, the other men soaked in blood as one fought to hold the injured one up for dear life.

“Why haven’t they cut the feed now that they’ve been cornered,” Derek said with a shake of his head, his lips pulled into a grimace, “Letting us see inside gives us a tactical advantage, they have to know that,”

“Unless they want the audience,” Bugsy suggested, watching the jack slowly growing weaker and weaker as they discussed tactics, “Although the only one who really strikes me as the attention seeker is her, he seems more prioritised with the other male,”

“The masks add to their narcissism,” Spencer input with a nod, “Their personas are the royalty of poker,”

“JJ, you, Bugsy, Reid and Prentiss, look at past robberies, that’s going to be our victimology,” Hotch ordered, and they did as ordered with little delay, heading to the office they had set up in the opposite trailer.

This was going to be a long day.

–

“I can help,” Bugsy offered herself before the team even had a chance to protest.

It hadn’t even been an hour into them pulling research from InterPol as to who their UnSubs were before they had made their next dramatic move; they had shot a hostage.

Which meant they needed medics in there fast, fast enough to save the hostage and the jack if it kept the king from unravelling into a massacre.

“What do you mean you can help?” Emily said with a scathing tone, “Bug, you can’t just throw yourself in harm’s way if you have no clue what you’re-”

“I did three years of a medicine degree alongside my biochemistry before I got bored of doing both and gave up on it,” Bugsy snapped at her sister, brows contorting into a harsher frown than she’d had in months. She preferred it when they weren’t speaking at all.

“Because you were bored?” Derek asked, his face incredulous at the gall of the twenty year old they’d plucked from college and sent into the midst of the Russian Mob five years ago, “Did you not have anything better to do like partying or making out with guys- a whole medical degree on the side is your idea of downtime?”

She shrugged, looking back at Emily with a glare who seemed to bristle at the information.

“Can I speak to you outside please?” Emily said in the coolest tone she could muster, though even that sounded like a bite.

Something shifted in the air of the tiny, makeshift office and the other inhabitants tensed up at the sight of the Prentiss women gritting their teeth almost identically, staring daggers at one another for a moment before they stood from their seats and waltzed out of the side of the trailer to where there wasn’t the bustle of squad cars or media to be seen.

JJ looked to Morgan, who looked to Spencer, who seemed to have paled for a moment, and the three of them were out of their own seats to linger at the doorway in case things really did get ugly between the sisters.

“Do you honestly think that throwing yourself into the line of danger today is a good idea or are you trying to hurt me to get back at me?” Emily seethed the minute they had stepped foot on the ground, and the scoff that left her little sister’s throat was something nasty.

“Oh, please, don’t make yourself sound so important.” Bugsy snapped, whirling around on her heel to glare at her sister, “I’m not doing any of this to get back at you, I’m trying to save those hostages in there-”

“So I just happened to have never heard about this medical side quest you set yourself on until now because, what, it just never came up?” Emily laughed, laughed, in her sister’s face, and Bugsy saw red even more, “I thought you were a better liar than that,”

“Maybe if you’d bothered to even speak to me before you needed something from me that day with the Russians then you would have known anything about me that wasn’t being your dumb little sister you can just walk all over like you’re my mom or something,” Bugsy’s voice was getting louder, and Emily’s smirk wiped right off at the sound of that, because she knew she could have been ten times a better sister had she not wanted to get as far away from her mother as fast as possible. “Same with Hotch, he never wanted much to do with me until his wife died and then who did he come to needing help grieving, none a single one of you, and who gets bitten in the ass and punished when I find out I spent seven months grieving like some idiot to that uptight prick who lied to me-”

“Do not speak about him like that,” Emily was shouting now too because Bugsy was truly holding nothing back on her.

“Why? Are you going to pick him over me, Em?” The younger woman snarked, her eyes hateful and narrowed, “Wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest given your track record-”

Emily shoved her, like, truly shoved her back and it robbed the words out of the girl’s throat. Yet it made JJ gasp where they were watching from the crack in the doorway, wanting to break them apart but knowing they needed to fix it for themselves.

The three of them hissed when Bugsy’s hand swiped against Emily’s cheek in a territory neither of them had ever wandered into. Emily was always too old to argue with her sister, too big to fight the way most siblings did with slaps and hair pulls and scratches, but Bugsy was a grown woman now; they both were.

Emily swatted the same back to her own cheekbone, after a second of shock washing over her face, and it was like they were two cats fighting in a back alleyway over a scrap of chicken.

Bugsy shoved at her around the tits, because she knew it would ache, Emily pulled at her braid with a yank that made Bugsy’s eyes water, the two of them banging against the wall of the trailer, their heads clunking together.

“Fucking punishing me after months like some insolent child-”

“I would never have left you thinking you were to blame for my death- I would never fucking do this to you-”

This was childish, entirely childish, playground offences and girlish curses in between. The worst part was they knew they could do much worse, they knew they could truly hurt one another if they wanted to. They were both trained to kill, and yet Emily had Bugsy grabbed in a headlock like they were two infants fighting over a sandpit.

Because they didn’t want to properly hurt one another in any way that would last. Never.

“Get the fuck off me or I’m punching you in the crotch,” Bugsy barked, trying to wriggle her way out of her sister’s freakishly strong arms with a frown, “EMILY- I SAID-”

“I was trying to protect you- just get your head out of your ass for two seconds and listen to me- I was trying to protect all of you-” But by the time Emily had somewhat gotten her to stop squirming, the girl had grabbed her by the calf where she had been forced to bend at a forty five degree angle, holding her one leg up off the floor while she sweeped at the second one to knock her off balance.

She had been known to shoot an assailant in the foot from twenty feet away to stop them from getting away, and yet she was resorting to simply pushing her sister over as a way to get one up on her.

She felt like she was ready to finger paint and take a nap time next; like they were about to be sat in the headmaster’s office and have their wrists slapped with a ruler for not keeping their hands to themselves.

But it worked, and in seconds the Prentiss girls were on the floor, puffing out of breath, Bugsy’s lip bleeding where Emily’s ring had caught it on the corner, Emily’s cheek red and raised from where her sister had a surprisingly strong right hook. They took a minute to breath, Bugsy glaring at the awfully clear blue sky, much too happy and cheery for the travesty that had been her entire day. And it was only then did she hear the other three members of their team exit the trailer, JJ going to help Emily up while Morgan's face appeared in the middle of the powdered clouds, something sad and sympathetic in his eyes and it was then that he held out his hand to get her up.

She didn’t want to, had every intention of laying there and staring at the broad daylight until she managed to float far away from there and from where her chest hurt with betrayal and her lip bled with lies.

He yanked her off the floor, offered her a cold can of coke for where she felt her lip swelling already, and she resigned to sit on the stairs to the trailer with her head in her hands until her temple stopped pounding or at least until she felt herself calm down in the slightest.

Emily shuffled to sit down next to her, her breathing still uneven but she could tell because she felt a tentative hand on her thigh rubbing gently, in the motherly way Emily had always watched her.

Because Bugsy had always been her baby, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“Bugsy?” The younger woman huffed in indignance, pouting as she stared at her lap, because she felt the tears welling up already, “I’m so sorry I left you, you know I never, ever wanted to, you know that right?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice cracked as she finally looked over at her sister’s solemn face, “You told JJ and Hotch but you couldn’t even tell me? Did you just not want to come back for me?”

Emily’s brows pulled up into a sorrowful frown, and she felt her eyes start to burn too.

“No, that was never a part of it, I swear, there wasn’t a day when I didn’t want to come home to you,” She replied, taking a deep breath in through her nose as not to start bawling her eyes out there and then, “I had to tell Hotch and JJ as a matter of precaution, not because I wanted to tell them and not you. Bug, I missed you every day, I missed Niko and Sergio and those dumb documentaries you made us watch,”

Bugsy smiled despite herself, wiping a finger under her nose to stop the tears that had already started rolling there, “Well, I don’t know about Niko but Sergio missed you a whole lot,” She sniffled, rolling the Coke over to a cooler side to sooth her lip some more, “But I think he feels like you kind of abandoned him, and like you maybe don’t love him as much because he can be kind of annoying and, like, he’s real torn up about me telling him you died only to find your you’re not, like you can’t just do that to Sergio, Em, he doesn’t deserve that,”

Bugsy’s lip was quivering by the time she’d finished, but Emily chuckled wetly, wrapping an arm over her shoulder and pressing their pounding heads together.

“Are we maybe not talking about Sergio anymore, Bug? Are we talking about you-”

“No, we’re definitely talking about Sergio,” She cut in, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve, looking back up where Emily’s face was glistening with tears though it seemed like she had somewhat calmed under her sister’s gaze that wasn’t so full of vitriol hatred anymore.

Emily nodded, a humoured smile on her lips, “Right, okay, my bad. Definitely Sergio,” She held up her hand, stroking down Bug’s cheek for her where her tears had started pooling, “Well, I want Sergio to know that even if he is annoying sometimes, that there’s nothing that could ever take me away from him again, cause even though I’m not his mom, he’s still always going to be my kid, you know?”

Bugsy’s face crumpled in pain for a minute, sniffling and meeting Emily’s eyes, dark brown hues watching her sadly, imploring her to know how much her heart called out for her.

“Really? You promise?” Bugsy whined, and Emily nodded with a sad smile, stroking the back of her braid that looked a little ratted and wispy from where it had been yanked at. She took a shaky breath, looking down to her shoes where they scraped against the steps, “Well, I’m sure he’ll love to hear that, I’ll tell him when we’re home-”

Emily laughed, kissing her sister’s forehead, and pulling her into a side hug.

“Alright, tough guys. Let’s get back to working on the profile, Sergio can wait for a minute,” Morgan said, though his face fought off the smile that crept on his lips seeing two of his favourite girls finally at peace with one another.

Bugsy looked five years younger within seconds, and they clicked back into place, hopping up off the steps to get right to work, cursing herself for wasting so much time on silly things like hating her sister, because forgiving her felt cathartic in a way she didn’t understand she needed.

Maybe they had a chance after all.

–

Bugsy swore she would never have an optimistic thought a day in her life again.

Because just as they had thought perhaps things could look up; just as they had sent in a different agent medically trained enough to save the jack, their UnSub, that they’d identified as Oliver, had bled out before he could have done anything to save him. Without a second thought, the king, Chris, had shot the agent, and demanded he wanted Will next as retribution for his brother’s death.

They had of course turned down the offer in a heartbeat but the moment everyone turned their backs, Will, ten times the cop Bugsy could ever hope to be, had walked into the bank with his arms raised in surrender despite JJ screaming for him to stop from where Morgan and Hotch held her back from following him in.

Bugsy and Penelope watched from the CCTV in blood curdling horror when Chris put two bullets in him before he could even declare he was unarmed.

“Did you see where he was shot?” JJ asked, her tone empty, her eyes bloodshot where she had broken down into a fit of wails as soon as the gunshots had sounded through the street.

Bugsy opened her mouth to speak, losing all hope as soon as the bluebell gaze fell to her for an explanation.

“Is he alive or dead, Bug?” JJ snipped, but she knew she didn’t mean it, knew she was just worried out her mind and grasping at straws.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry,” Bugsy replied, Emily’s hand at the small of her back in a comforting gesture because she sounded scared. She wished Spencer was with her, he always knew how to make people feel better, but he and Kevin had gone back to their office uptown to use Penelope’s personal lair for better coverage on the BAU’s resources.

“He was wearing a vest,” Emily jumped in, because Bug was tense and upset enough as it was, “He might be okay,”

“Might be?” JJ said humourlessly, her face hollow with sadness, “Alright we need to get inside,”

“JJ, it’s too risky,” Morgan tried as the woman stood up, a new found determination, because she refused to accept her partner, the father of her child, was dead until she saw him in a body bag for herself, “We don’t have eyes in there anymore,”

Jennifer’s eyes welled up again, and she turned to their unit chief; he was the only one who could understand just how desperate she felt right now if there was even the smallest chance he could still be alive. “Aaron.”

Hotch took a breath, nodding to her with complete empathy, “Let’s go in,”

Bugsy leapt for the medical kit they’d kept in the cupboard, because if she could stop the bleeding as soon as possible he might have a chance. She was taken back to when she had gotten to Emily that night with Doyle, when she had nothing but the clothes on her back and a loaded gun to treat her sister with, when she had felt completely helpless.

She refused to feel like that again, not now she’d been lucky enough to get Emily back. She refused to let JJ and tiny Henry go through what she did.

Will wouldn’t die if she had anything to do with it.

“Seeing what’s going on outside doesn’t help us inside,” Spencer said, standing behind where Kevin sat in Pen’s office, his hazel eyes falling to the surveillance footage of the bank live streaming from one of the choppers, where the familiar woman he worried for more than he could ever tell her moved behind a SWAT unit towards the front doors, a large med kit strapped to her back, a pistol at her side.

He looked down at the blueprints of the bank because if he watched her get even ten feet away the bank he thought he might just throw up, even if there were four armed men shielding her.

“Kevin, can you possibly pull up each of the surveillance feeds prior to Will being shot?” He asked, quickly diverting his attention away from where they were at an impasse waiting for something to happen, Emily’s SWAT team moving slowly towards hers.

“Sure, what are we looking for?” The other man asked, his fingers sprawling over Penelope’s keyboard as he did as requested, playing the older footage on the opposite screen, though even he was getting cold feet watching their team getting ready to breach the perimeter.

“The female UnSub disappeared once before, if she wasn’t looking for an escape, what was she doing?”

Spencer paused, because he couldn’t help when his eyes flicked back to the footage of Bugsy shuffling closer to the entrance behind one SWAT agent, and the doors burst open, the entire street pausing for a second to see what the movement was.

The hostages. The civillians caught in the crossfire at the bank slowly trickled out of the doorway, their arms raised in peace, some crying in relief though there was no sign of Will anywhere.

This was bad. Though he felt utmost care that the hostages had been released safely, he knew that the UnSubs keeping Will meant one of two things. One, that Will was already dead and useless to them, or two, keeping him bleeding out as a bargaining chip was their final play. Meaning they had no intention of releasing him, otherwise they would be left with nothing.

If he wasn’t already dead, he would be any minute now.

Spencer’s chest crashed in devastation for his friend and his godson, though it soon took a turn of terror when it seemed the same thought ran through Bugsy’s mind and she began stepping forward towards where the hostages were shuffling out in floods of tears.

He saw Morgan and Emily yelling at her to stop, two of the SWAT team trying to follow her because they had no idea what had come over the twenty something year old rookie with a death wish. Spencer tried to ignore the way his chest clawed in horror, his eyes snapping back onto the surveillance of the female UnSub disappearing into the back rooms of the bank, completely ignoring the vault and the very clearly marked exit, meaning she had no intention of using either.

So what was she doing?”

Spencer felt his head rattling with a horrid thought, hoping his intuition was wrong when he held the blueprints up to the screen, his skin turning to gooseflesh when he realised just exactly where she had been dipping out to with that backpack of hers.

“Gas mains,” His voice was numb with fear, his body diving for their comm link to Garcia, where she sat in the trailer with Strauss and Rossi, watching the surveillance just as he was, “Garcia, get them out of there now,”

But no sooner had he said anything, Bugsy’s figure disappeared into the building, the SWAT team confirming that the entrance was clear, JJ and Morgan moving after her with their own agents protecting them.

But she was already inside, his head screamed at him. Even when he heard David’s frantic voice through the radio they had linked to their kevlars, “ABORT, ABORT!”

Even when he heard Hotch swear hastily, calling to his team to hold back, trying to yell loud enough JJ and her team could hear his orders to take cover.

Spencer couldn’t truly take any of it in as he watched the large glass windows wobble for a second, a shock wave of what he knew was about to come.

The lines went dead, and he thought for a second his heart stopped. Because he hadn’t figured it out fast enough, hadn’t warned them before she had chance to throw herself head first into danger the way he should have known she would.

Because Spencer watched the footage with a terror he had never known, not even in his eight years on the team, not even in his own situations as a hostage, not even when he was at his lowest and he thought the dilaudid was going to finish him off, alone and high in his apartment’s little bathroom, a burnt out drug addict who had so much going for him.

Spencer had never felt the sheer, spine-chilling dread that he did when he watched, useless and heart broken, as the bank went up in a colossal explosion, a plume of flames bursting out of every window, shattering glass and cracking the brickwork, hard enough he watched part of the building start to crumble inwards.

And Bugsy went down with it.

Taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist t @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew grey gubler x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #Emily Prentiss x Sister!reader

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thatgirlie-diaries · 1 year

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My goals for #100DayReinvention ୨୧

Health: Do pilates 3 times a week, sleep at 10pm, learn new cooking recipes, have healthier skin and hair.

Academic: Study 30 minutes Italian, pass the semester with 95/100, indulge in a new topic each week.

Adulting: Get my drivers liscence, get a cozy part time job, get a credit card.

Hobby: Write 3 blogs a week, read a book per month, improve my gymnastic skill.

Social: go out with my friends, have dates with my boyfriend and walk my dog with my sister. Focus on being more affectionate and self-confident

Healing: Meditate and practice yoga before sleeping, journal my emotions

Style: Discover my perfect makeup routine, learn new hairstyles, buy new seasonal clothes and accesories.

Bucket list: Try recipes, activities and watch movies and series related to fall and winter, visit the US to shop and visit a farm.

#self love #pinterest girl #it girl #wonyoungism #self care #clean girl #that girl #pink aesthetic #pink blog #gilrblogger #motivation #reinvent yourself #coquette #hyper feminine #study motivation #dream girl #girljournal #my diary #100DaysWithDDD

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universalitgirlsblog2 · 5 months

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🧼✨️GLOW UP GUIDE🧼✨️

🧼PHYSICAL GLOW UP

This is inspired from Glow up blueprint video by Dear peachie. Dear peachie will help you to achieve the ultimate physical glow up

.First of all, get to know your features. People who have facial features with accurate facial proportions , stronger symmetry ,brighter colours , defined lines look better in the static image whereas disproportionate facial ratio , poor symmetry , dull complexion , uneven structures can affect how one looks in static image.

Look at the glow up pyramid. Every level is interrelated to each other and is equally important . The elements at each level serves as the foundation which steps towards a higher level. The overall aspects may get affected if insufficient attention are given to fundamental levels.

Celebrities always appear gorgeous and sophiscated because they play attention they have invested a fortune and massive efforts in the detail that ordinary people never thought of.

There is a Chinese sayings which says one can recognize a beauty from 10 meters away. From a 10 meters distance, we cannot see the beauty looks like , her facial features and make up is blurry. However , we can see her body shape , posture , hair , clothing style. If we maintain 2 to 5 meter social distance , the focus point is skin , face shape and overall proportions. Body type , posture , clothing , hair , skin , face shape and overall proportion forms the impression of the body.

( A) Skin

- maintain a balanced diet

- good quality of sleep.

- stay hydrated lol ( common advice but it works )

- avoid smoking and eating too much sugary foods.

- Build a skin care routine which suits you the best.

- Visit a dermatologist regularly.

- Rub ice on face

- Do facial yoga

- Less is more

- The most simple way - just affirm that you have clear skin .

( B ) Body

- Workout !

- Maintain a healthy diet , don't starve yourself please !

- We can enhance our body proportions by wearing clothes which suit our body type.

- Love your body , don't abuse it by starving yourself or criticising it.

( C ) Posture

- You can do exercises to get a good posture.

- Try to maintain a good posture even if you are doing your daily tasks.

- Walk with a good posture , you will appear more graceful and elegant.

(D) Hairstyle

- Hairstyle is a great way to express oneself. You can choose different hairstyles which suit you.

- Healthy and beautiful hair can enhance your appearance so give some time to yourself and do hair care .

- A suitable hairstyle can draw visual attention towards your best features. For example : Long face framing bangs reduce impression of high cheek bones.

( E ) Body shapes

- Get to know your body type and dress up according to your body type.

👛🧁I didn't go into details , dear peachie has made videos for topics like posture, body shapes , hairstyles etc. I will make notes on those too . Those posts will be more detailed and in depth👛🧁

MORE TIPS BY MOI !

- Try mewing, you will get high cheekbones and sharp jawline.

- Get regular trims and hair scalp treatments.

- Yoga is so beneficial for both physical and mental health.

- Accessories to spice up your outfits !

- Develop a good fashion sense , you can take inspiration from celebrities too .

- Apply Vaseline on eye lashes .

- If you want to appear taller and slimmer, then wear high waist jeans and crop tops . ( This tip may vary from one body shape to another )

✨️MENTAL GLOW UP

- DEVELOP SELF - LOVE. I recommend you to check out these posts - how to love yourself , self-love affirmations by me , self- love affirmations by Alanna Foxx, songs for self-love. Also , read these posts - click me and click me !

- Be disciplined. Care for yourself . Cherish yourself. Love yourself no matter what.

- Listen to Guided Meditations and Podcasts

- Adopt the " OK and ? " or " So what? " mentality . They were talking behind your back , OK and ? They don't like you , OK and ? You tried something new and failed , So what ? They left you on seen and ghosted you , So what ?

- Adopt the " You are You , I am me " mentality.

- Listen to the wizard liz , Tam Kaur , Simone or Alessia.

- Watch good content. You are what you consume. You have control over it. Don't watch videos which are full of drama and negativity . Watch productive and educational videos.

- Meditate ! You will become more mindful and self- aware.

- Become selfish! No , don't use people for your own benefit but put yourself first. Posts you should read to understand it better ! - click me , click me !!

- STOP BEING A VICTIM ! YOU ARE THE CREATOR OF YOUR REALITY !!! YOU CONTROL YOUR REALITY , NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND !!!!

- Don't seek validation from others , don't listen to other's opinions . Others opinions are irrelevant.

- Watch documentaries. Read books .

- Cut off toxic people ! This is so important. If someone drains you , puts you down , always nitpicking or complaining about you or other things . Distance yourself. It doesn't matter if you know them in real life or if it's online friendship. It doesn't matter if you knew them for a decade .

- You don't need to share everything with your Close friends.

- Say affirmations out aloud while doing skin care infront of mirror or in your mind.

- Act like the person you want to become.

- Don't chase , attract

- Know you are the main character.

- Don't allow others to use you or treat you like a doormat.

- Be more organized.

- Don't compare yourself with others.

- Don't depend on others for your happiness .

- Journal.

- Try shadow work

- Have hobbies

🍥ACADEMIC GLOW- UP

-Being intelligent is hot. Prioritize your education.

- Find a reason to study. Do you want to top your exams ? Do you want to make your parents proud ? Do you want to be the smart kid ?

- Find a role model . It can be a fictional character or celebrity . Check this post to find some inspiration - click me !

- Your reason to study should be bigger than your distractions.

- Watch fayefilms and studyquill , they always have the best study tips.

-Teach your friends , family or even pet . You will be able to revise the concepts better. If you get stuck while explaining , you would know that the topic is not clear to you yet.

- Use Mnemonics

- You can use the SQ3R method. SURVEY. QUESTION. READ . RECITE . REVIEW.

- Romanticize being smart. Romanticize studying.

- I would recommend you to read these posts , I hope they help you to study well !! - click me , click me , click me , click me , click me , click me, click me , click me

I hope this post helps you too - click me !

571 notes · View notes

moonastro · 7 months

Text

Solar Return chart notes ii

**not my images**

ᯓ★ chart ruler of SR in 3rd house may mean you will have a new (younger) sibling (or cousin).

ᯓ★ pluto in 1st house of SR is the year that i had a transformative overall year. I wouldn't call it an identity crisis but i was questioning who or what i am or what i need to be doing.

ᯓ★ IC ruler in 4th house in SR can make you more family oriented. i had this one year and i had a closer relationship with my household family.

ᯓ★ another indication of studying the occult is having vertex in the 8th house. i had mines in Gemini (mind, studying, writing).

ᯓ★ venus in 4th house in SR can mean you loving your culture and your traditions more.

ᯓ★ the ruler of 5th house in 6th house can be an indication of starting to move your body for fun. i had my ruler of 5th house (hobbies) in the 6th house (physical body, routine) and it was in Aries (fast moving, fast pace). i started dancing more that year as a hobby and for fun.

ᯓ★ 11th house SR in cancer can make your friendships very confusing. For example i had my 11th house in cancer and moon (ruler) in 3rd house (of communication, talking), there was lack of communication which led to confusion.

ᯓ★ vertex in the 8th house of SR can mean earning money/ getting money from other people. i had this in gemini (rules social media, and communication) in 8th house.

ᯓ★ when i had mars (action, messages) in the 9th house (higher learning, education) i had multiple of university offers. Mars was trine Neptune and the courses were art related. very interestinggg.

ᯓ★ ruler of 11th house square mars can bring conflict to your friendship circle.

ᯓ★ the ruler of 2nd house in Aquarius can make your senses change. what i mean by this is that your taste may change or say your sense of smell can become weaker or sharper etc etc.

ᯓ★ in your SR, when the 4th house ruler trines Venus, you may create a beautiful bond with your family members. This can also enhance your love for your heritage.

ᯓ★ Jupiter trine asteroid Aphrodite (1388) can influence self care. i had jupiter in Aries and i was very focused on the head/face and taking care of these areas such as my skin and my oral health. The asteroid was in the 2nd house which rules the face and teeth in medical astrology. very cool.

ᯓ★ when i had moon sextile uranus in my SR i was very chronically online. i had comfort in that area and would almost allow what i saw on the internet control my mood.

ᯓ★ venus trine saturn in your SR can make you become stricter on your appearance. this may cause you to be very aware of how you look and be quite strict about it.

ᯓ★ SR sun in 7th house, expect to be more confident. i had this trine pluto and went out of my comfort zone lots of times even if i felt a bit anxious.

ᯓ★ Mars in cancer in your SR can make you bicker with family members tremendously. i had this placement in a taurus degree (2,14,26) and there were topics related to finances being discussed quite often (mostly the females).

ᯓ★ ketu in 1st house of SR can make you more isolated. not always a bad thing this can just mean that you don't crave spending time with other people and enjoy your own company.

thanks for reading, have a nice day!🤍

#solar return #solar return chart #astrology #asteroid astrology #astrology community #astrology degrees #astrology observations #kpop astrology #vedic astrology #sidereal astrology #astro notes #astro community #astro observations #astro placements #vedic astro notes #astrology synastry #celebrity astrology

748 notes · View notes

marxo-fm · 6 months

Text

Take me to Church

✯ John Price x f!reader | Playlist

Summary: A reader who’s so religious that she doesn’t even think of anything close to inappropriate, until she meets her dad’s best friend, Mr. John Price.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: MDNI 18+, mature themes and language, age gap (reader is 25 and Price is in his early 40’s), religious trauma from Catholic variety, dad’s best friend, loss of virginity, pet names, slight aftercare in the end, fear of getting caught from reader, smut, assurance, fingering, reader isn’t all that clueless but super inexperienced, protected PIV, oral (fem! receiving), reader has some troubles with masturbation (failure to finish), Price teaches the reader how to feel good, praising, no descriptions of readers body, race, skin color, ethnicity, hair type/length and body type.

A/N: Currently don’t know wtf I’m doing with my life and how this absurdity came to mind, but aye, I’m all here for it. This was so…..!? Yeah. Also big shout out to Hozier, my icon. Side note: I truly apologize If this fic is rough, I will edit it soon but it’s mostly because I haven’t written in a hot minute, due to school and shit, but I’m back now—and I’m proud of this!

—

The breeze kisses your skin as you soak the sun's warmth on a Friday afternoon. The grass is green, and the clouds are out, summer has just begun. You feel yourself start to come back, you were struggling but now that’s over—for a bit. You look over as you watch your dad chopping wood. Usually, he has his friends helping out, but you guessed they had things to do, which explains why they weren’t here.

You memorized their names.

There’s Gaz, Simon, a man who goes by the name of ‘Soap’—which you find funny and you’re not sure if that’s his real name or if it’s just a nickname—and then…John.

Mr. Price. Or so you call him. Sir or Mr works just fine. But you never explored your unknown and strange feelings for him. How you always felt so shy around his dominating presence, or how his voice sounds like honey and sins. You prayed at night and asked for forgiveness when thinking of such thoughts you’ve never thought of when you see John.

Until one day in high school—in health class—they taught about intercourse and other things that left you baffled and quite scared. Anxious. Curious.

You’d get scolded by your Catholic parents when you asked such things, they say it’s too early to get into these topics, or that you should wait until marriage. Your parents are good, but you always follow their rules. You never once disobeyed, only minor times but you always asked for forgiveness.

You’ve always been a good girl, but Mr. Price always makes the fire in your belly grow. And that fire burns through your veins in an excruciating need for something so sinful. Maybe it’s the devil on your shoulder, but you never fight it off, and that was bad.

“Hey honey, ought to help me out here? The jerks I call my friends are out busy somewhere, c’mon, I’ll teach ya.” Your father motioned his hands as he walked to his area where he chops his wood, you’ve never done this before, but you’re excited. He gives you his axe, and you almost give out due to how heavy it is. “Can’t carry it like that sweet pie, hold it strong and firm.” He instructs.

You do as he says, squinting your eyes to look at his face of approval, “I think I got it.”

He nods and you bring the axe up to your shoulder, and you bring it down with every ounce of strength.

You chopped it.

“Attagirl, that’s one hell of a way to chop down wood.” A man with a deeper voice and a southern drawl said from right behind you, you turn around and the blood rushes to your head.

It’s John.

“Oh…Mr. Price,” you stammer, and you feel a rush of embarrassment plastering your cheeks.

“Y’know ya can call me John, right? Good job raisin’ her pal, she got manners.” He chews on his toothpick as he takes the axe from your hands, and the contact leaves you feeling vulnerable and so flustered. His rough hands that he used to work, chop wood, and fix things felt oddly familiar on your soft skin.

“We taught her well, ain’t that right darlin’?” John looks over his shoulder, his flannel covering his bulging biceps and that itself makes you feel thirsty for cold water.

“Yes, Dad,” you replied softly, “Well, I’m just going to head on over back home to help Mom out. Want anything to drink John?”

John looked at you momentarily, the way his name slipped out of your sweet mouth left him speechless. His eyes gaze over your white dress that sits just above your knees, it feels like he is undressing you, but he’s just wondering how and when the hell you looked like this. Of course, you were always beautiful, but there was something special there.

A spark.

“No ma’am.” He waved his hand and went back to work. You watched as his forearms grew bigger when he swung that axe down.

Forgive me for my sins.

You mumbled before you opened the door to your home and walked in.

—

“My baby’s such a bad girl, aren’t ya? Takin’ me so well.” John praises as he thrusts into you in sinister motions like he’s been deprived of something so good for such a long time, that it almost drove him over the wall.

How you felt so good, so welcoming, as his thrusts became deeper and faster. Touching parts of you that you didn’t even know existed—nor could feel. It was an out-of-body experience like your soul had ascended, and you didn’t know whether it was real.

Until your alarm woke you up. It wasn’t real, but gosh did it feel real. You’re sweating, and your heart is running a marathon, as you regain your breath, you feel like you committed a crime. A crime so punishable that it could result in a death sentence.

You grab your rosary and you rock back and forth, praying and asking for forgiveness for ever dreaming about him. Your parents always told you that you wouldn’t have a good spot in the afterlife—a place called hell—if you thought of or committed any acts of sin. Especially anything and everything related to dirty inappropriate thoughts or worse, sex. Commit any of these before marriage, and you have a spot ready for you down below.

You feared for your life, even though it was impossible for anyone you love to know. They won’t ever know you have thoughts about John, or how you feel warmth between your legs when you picture him touching you in places you can’t please. Or how you picture him shirtless chopping wood, grabbing your waist from behind as he helps you hold the axe properly and swing it down. It was oh so shameful of you. Dirty, bad, sinful.

But you feel as if enough was enough, you’ve been good for far too long, that you deserve to feel good about yourself for once.

It was the perfect time, six thirty in the morning and both your parents were sleeping away, not knowing their good and obedient daughter was yearning to touch herself.

You lock your doors for safety as you scurried back to bed, you lay down on your back as you skim your fingers down your chest.

Deep breathes in and deep breathes out. You don’t know how to do this, but you’ll give in anyway. You sigh as you pull your shorts down, with your underwear as well. You drew circles around your belly before trailing down to your heat. Soft gasps escaped your mouth at your sensitive touch. Sensitive and swollen from the dream you just had.

You close your eyes, rubbing circular motions on your most sensitive area as you picture John doing this for you instead. Rough and hard-working hands aiding you. A coil in your stomach tightens, urging you to untie right then and there, but you can’t get the motions to stay the same.

You winced as you pushed your finger deeper, your back arching in response. You don’t feel anything, no pleasure, only pain and emptiness.

You want to scream in the agonizing torture of being so close yet so far away. You pull your shorts back up as you go inside the restroom to wash your hands.

You committed acts of sin and weren't pleased, and now you feel nothing but guilt and insecurity of not knowing how to do something right.

—

The next day, the same place you were before. Outside on your dad's truck watching his friends help out with work. John wore a tight brown tee that accentuated his muscles, he's a retired man, but you could see every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears in that body of his.

You blush, thinking about it. About what could be hiding under his shirt.

He catches you eyeing him but you quickly divert your eyes back to your book. John smirked, telling your dad he'll be back in a second and wants to talk with you.

"Ya watchin' me, sweetheart?" He smiled, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. You watched as he did so, fearing that he'd ask you to take a puff, though you never would. "I...I was just trying to learn how you chop your wood, sir."

A deep chuckle escapes his mouth, "Y'know I can teach you, doll," the new nickname had you unable to face him, but he loved seeing you flustered. He took a puff and you nodded, "Come on over to my place, your dad won't mind. I'm not at home much, anyway. S'good to learn y'know," he went on as he walked closer to you, his southern accent becomes deeper as he goes, "You'll have the privacy that you need, to read your books and pray." He knew how religious you are, heck, he's a good friend to your parents.

"I don't know if my father will let me go, with a man nonetheless." John looks back and then back to you, "It's only me, angel."

You decide to ask your father, just in case. You don't want to go behind his back, even if John is family. You walk on over, building the courage to ask your father if it's okay to go over to a man's house, a man you yearn for.

"Dad, is it okay If John takes me to his house? He's gonna teach me how to chop wood." Your dad looks at you momentarily, before speaking, "Of course honey, just because I want you to help an old man out here and there. 'Aka' me." You tried to keep your cool, to not look so eager about going over a man's house.

John smiled, the thought of having you all to himself at his place gets him straining against his jeans. He loves it when you eye him as if he doesn't know or sense when you drool over him.

"Here's your room, sweet thing, if ya ever need anything I'm just a shout away." He sets his tools down and walks to the kitchen, his jeans shaping his toned legs and shirt sizes too small. Butterflies invade your stomach, merely at the thought that you'd be sleeping under the same roof as this man, and willing to teach you something you're so interested in.

"Can't believe your dress is that short, doll. Your mother let you out like that?" He eyed your white dress that sits just above your knees and shows more skin than the dresses you usually wear. "You know, Mr. Price, I'm an adult now."

"Course you are," he takes a sip of his beer, "but I ain't take you as the one to dress like this. Can't say I don't like it."

You smile, flustered at the way he just complimented you. You can't deny that you like it, you love it. It sent a rush of arousal through your entire body, and he noticed the way you crossed your legs.

"Damnit,"

"What is it?" You asked curiously, not knowing that John saw the way you squeezed your thighs together. He wants to ease the need and desire that coursed through you, but he doesn't want to screw it all up.

"Nothin', now come on outside."

"Now, you're going to hold it just like this," he instructs, pushing his hard body against your back as he holds your arms. You could feel the hardness of his strain on your back and you scream internally, unable to form coherent thoughts.

You made this so hard for him, so difficult to the point where John himself forgot what he wanted to teach you.

"Easy," his calloused hands left your arms and snaked their way along your waist. Your stomach flipped at the action. Goosebumps flare over your entire skin, his manly scent entering your nose and taking over your mind. You swallowed, and continued.

"Now raise your axe, and swing it down."

You did just so, and you successfully chopped the wood.

"That's it, angel baby, look at ya. Such a good learner."

"I am, aren't I?" You slightly bit your lip, John cursed himself and cupped your face. "Mm, damn right you are." John wondered deeply if you were such a good learner in other parts as well. Price cupping your face was a first, but his calloused hands that signal just how much of a hard worker made the intense throb between your legs grow.

You wake up with your blanket suffocating as you struggle to fall asleep, again. You tossed and turned, repeating everything and every touch he gave you. You try to stop the need and the burn in your belly, you really do, but it's hard when you don't know how to fulfill your need. It became so bad to the point where you stood up and walked to the kitchen for water.

He wasn't in his room, he was out for the morning. A busy man and you're so silly for thinking he'd be home, even when he informed you he wouldn't be home every passing hour.

But oh how much you needed him. In ways, you couldn't forgive yourself for it.

You sit down, as quiet as a mouse, waiting patiently for him to come back just so you can confess your dirty sins. Maybe he'll forgive you for them, or maybe he won't show you mercy.

You try to occupy yourself, laying down on the couch and turning on the TV, still in your nightgown. You pull the blanket over, ready to watch a cooking video to learn a few things.

But it hits you that you're actually able to do something about the heat in between your legs, now that nobody is here. The house was quiet except for the TV playing.

Your hand trails under the blanket, lifting your nightgown as you reach for your soaked underwear. Shameful how you're soaked even when he's not around, John really leaves his mark on you. You let out a sigh as you reached your wet and sensitive clit.

It's not easy when you struggle to please yourself, it's so disappointing, honestly. Today was no different.

There is this creeping guilt, but it always hits you the most just when you creep up the tip of the mountain, only for you to fall off when you realize what you're doing.

You can't stop thinking of him, shoulders aching and tears urging to escape when you're so close to reaching the end, only for it to be unsuccessful.

So, you close your eyes and let out a deep breath. Spreading your legs further as your fingers plunged into your aching hole, you gasped. Picturing yet again, how he pleases his women. Of course, he knew how, he is well experienced and capable of pleasing a woman, to the point where she forgets her own name.

You're committing acts of sins in his own home, unforgivable and dirty. Because you were raised with the idea of being perfect, but no one is perfect. From the moment you're born and the moment you die--but the moment you die is the moment John Price fulfills your dirty little dreams.

He whispers in your ear telling you how to do this and how to do that.

'Just like that.'

'Those fingers are too light, darlin', lemme do all the work."

"Attagirl, in and out."

And you almost reached the top of the mountain, whispering finally as sweat buds trail down your forehead.

Finally, finally, finally.

Until you fell down the mountain you tried so hard climbing, when John swings open the door to the sight of his best friend's daughter getting off on his couch. You hurriedly pull your panties back up.

At that moment, you wanted to scream.

To run away.

To die.

He's going to tell your dad, and your entire body freezes. You can't plead for forgiveness when you're so far gone. No mercy will be shown when he kicks you out and tells your parents how bad their daughter truly is.

You sit straight as your body shakes in fear, you're unable to cry when you know your fate.

A sinful girl.

"John," you choke, "I-I am so so sorry, I didn't mean to. I really wasn't-"

"How long have you been at this?" Your heart drops all the way down as the blood from your face drains. "O..only," you struggle to speak as his deep brown eyes gaze at you, "It was only this one time."

You lied.

Another sin.

He stands in silence, shutting the door behind him as he takes big steps towards you. He hovers over you, looking down to see a dirty girl in front of him. As if you played this innocent and sweet girl, though you were, except in John's eyes you weren't. At least that's what you thought.

He takes your chin and pushes your head up to face him, you weren't able to look in his eyes, it was all too much.

"Look at me," he grumbled, you did just what he said. Not once resisting, although it was difficult.

"I ain't mad at ya, it's natural, honey."

Your eyes widened and your shoulders relaxed from the tension and fear.

"You're not going to tell on me?" You asked, Price chuckles.

"Course I'm not, I ain't no snitch, I'm a grown man." He bends on his knees, his thumbs rubbing circular motions on your exposed skin.

"Did it feel good? Sorry to have ruined it for ya' angel." It sure did feel good knowing you almost reached the top, it really did, but it felt better having John assuring you that it was all okay. "You don't have to be sorry--I was just..."

"Go on."

"Continue what I interrupted, don't let my presence stop ya," he signaled his pointer finger toward the door to his room, "it ain't comfortable here. No space to spread those sweet legs, is there?"

You shake your head, "Go on, unless you want me in there. I know deep down you do, doll, you can feel so much better." He's right, the moment you've been dreaming of, it finally comes true. How could you say no to John being in the same room making you feel good?

You almost can't believe it.

He suddenly picks you up from the couch, initiating a soft gasp from you when he opens the door and throws you on his mattress.

You balance yourself with your two hands when he undresses himself in front of you. Starting off with his shirt. You gasp once again, at the sight of his sculpted body before you. His chest was full of hair and his toned dad bod was the definition of perfect.

He gets on the bed and slowly crawls towards you, his head now in between your thighs. "I interrupted your time of need, sweet girl, let me make it up to you." He smiles before hooking his finger on the hem of your underwear, pulling them down all the way to your ankles. On display right before him, so shy you hid away, unable to look at the lewd sight in front of you. "That ain't gonna work for me, eyes over here." His fingers dug into your thighs, you did just as he said, looking at his eyes that continue to look at your pretty pussy.

"S'fuckin' wet."

It's a dream come true for John as well, to see you all wide open and soaking wet for him.

He places peppered kisses along your thighs, and you whimper as he stops. John makes his way up to your lips, biting your bottom lip before kissing you deeply and hungrily. Exactly like the dreams.

His stache brushing against your top lip only made it feel real, his tongue deep inside your mouth as your hands held the back of his head, pushing his mouth impossibly deeper. He's eating your face as if it were his last meal on death row. Like a predator catching his prey.

He pulls away from the intense kiss, the saliva leaving both of you.

Good God did he know how to kiss, you let him do all the work when you could barely kiss him back just as good.

His chest heaved, and he continued with his kisses on your neck and down your collarbone, pushing a soft moan out of you that drove John over the wall. "Make more noises, it's only the two of us, jus' let me hear ya." He cooed, his hands lifting your nightgown over your hips and then over your head. His eyes trailed over your breasts hidden in your bra. "Ah fuck," you sit up, allowing John to unclip your bra, the sight of your chest out on display for him made his mouth water. He grips your left breast with one hand while he sucks and kisses the other.

"Oh, John...keep doing that, please."

He kneads your breast, almost putting you to sleep with how good it feels, "mmmhm," you sighed, "you been wantin' this, and I'm sorry for waiting this long." He apologizes as he places kisses down your belly and finally makes his way back to being in between your thighs.

"No need...to be sorry," you breathe, tilting your head back when he swipes his tongue between your wet folds. The new feeling alone made your legs tremble, enticing a loud gasp from you. You start to rock your hips against his mouth as his deep groans vibrate through your entire nervous system. "Taste like fuckin' Heaven, oh sweet baby, I think you are heaven itself." Praise that had you dropping your jaw as he inserted his hot tongue in your hole.

You swore you saw Heaven.

Brows furrowed and back arched as he eats you like a hungry man, your hands gripping the sheets underneath you, and your legs spread further open inviting him in for more.

John inserts one finger in as his tongue continues to suck on your most sensitive area, and you let out the loudest moan you didn't think you were capable of ever making.

You died in this moment. And John swore he died in that moment, also.

"John," you pant, focusing on what could be your first-ever orgasm.

"I know, you're close baby, s'fuckin' tight, come for me." His words of encouragement suddenly break the coil inside your burning belly, the liquid seeping out of you as he continues to lick away every last bit from you.

He takes his finger and licks you away, which leaves you half-lidded.

"See? How hard was that? Like rippin' a damn bandaid off, does your wound feel better?" He teased, "It does," you say softly, still reminiscing what happened a few seconds ago. What you just felt, how it felt like fireworks exploding inside your veins.

"Such a perfect pussy, waiting to be full of me." He unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans, you've never had sex, but you definitely never needed something more than now. You need him, to get to know him, even when you already do.

"Does it hurt like they say?" You asked nervously, watching as his jeans disappeared, leaving him only in his boxers. His thick thighs didn't do much justice in the dim light.

"When I do it, then it shouldn't be as bad, doll. Jus' a little pain, but if ya feel like it's too much, you jus' tell me. Hm?"

It makes you feel special with how sweet he treats you, he treats you with such care that it truly makes you dizzy.

He takes off his boxers and you almost lose all consciousness, his cock leaking with pre-cum and hard, you thought it was quite inhumane how big he is.

Sure you've explored your curiosity, but John, he differed from all of them.

"Poor thing needs some love and I'm going to show your pussy what the definition of love is." You grew heavy with desire, "ya need me to use a condom, sweetheart?" he asked, you nodded, simply because you weren't on the pill.

He opens his drawer and pulls out a condom, ripping it off with his teeth and spitting a piece of the wrapper out.

That was a sight for sore eyes.

He slips it on his thick cock, the condom intensifying every vien, it left your mouth dry like a Sahara desert.

How was that going to fit? Was all you were thinking about, but you were so sure he was going to make it feel okay.

He sets his heavy cock on your soaking entrance, teasing you while he moves his dick up and down your folds, you whine with need and John chuckles.

Was this the sinful thing that would literally damn you for eternity? How could something so dirty feel so good?

He brings a hand of his to pin your arms down, while the other holds your leg close to him. Your brows furrow as he slowly enters himself into you. John grows concerned when he sees your lips pursed and your eyes shut tightly, a tear escaping.

He stops, and you stop holding your breath.

"It hurts don't it? Want me to stop?"

"Please, no," you gasp, "I...I want you to keep going."

He readjusts your hips, before proceeding to continue, "You sure, honey?" You nod and whisper a hundred times yes before he thrusts deep inside of you.

"So fuckin' good for me, fuck!" he shouts, he loved the way your cunt fluttered and wrapped tightly around his cock.

The silence in the room was filled with his groans and loud moans from you, so lewd and so dirty. But you're too far deep to leave now, you're ready to die, happily.

"My," he thrusts, then pulling away and thrusting back in deeper, "gorgeous," you gasp when he continues his rhythm of thrusting and being so close to pulling out before he thrusts impossibly deeper again, "Girl." He breathed.

He brings his fingers to circle your sensitive clit, and you feel it happening again. It's more intense and heavier.

Your walls wrapped tightly on his cock, initiating that you're indeed closer than you have ever been before. "Mhmm," he moaned, and it was such a sweet sound you so badly wanted to hear again. He grabs hold of your legs, bringing them closer to your head, thrusting at a deeper angle that you can feel in your throat.

"That's it, baby, that's my fuckin' girl right here. All mine, gimme one more." He stopped as you cried out his name over and over until it became engraved in John's brain. He silences your cries with his lips as your legs shake around him.

"You did so well for me, your pussy jus' needed some medicine to be cured, got you coming all over my cock." He begins to move again, to finish himself this time. Your pain turns into pleasure and familiarity when he pushes himself in and out.

"John, that feels so..." He groans loudly at the way you watch his cock slide in and out, it was obscene but also surreal, "look at you, fuck, gonna make me cum just lookin' at me like that."

Which you felt so good about, it's all you wanted.

He pants as he reached a certain point, chest heaving as you can feel his cock twitching inside of you.

John pulls out, and there's sadness in your heart at the emptiness. Your heart thuds loudly that your first time to be with a man you dreamed about, it feels euphoric. You felt ecstatic.

He wipes away your dry tears and your hair away from your face, that drowned in sweat and tears.

John admired you the second he laid his eyes on you till now, he never knew the definition of perfect until this moment.

"Can you teach me how to feel good?" You asked as your hand roamed his broad shoulders and his back. And fuck, did John love that.

"Course' baby, on top of the choppin' the damn wood lessons," you both laugh, "I got all the time in the world, for you."

Your heart ached, he whispered sweet nothings before he carried you into the bathroom to clean up the mess.

Then you nestled under his arms and his body heat, his chest, and arms hugging you as the two of you slept the day away.

It was worth every waking second, and now you can sleep peacefully.

A/N: Y'all, wtf. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. Need him.

This lowkey needs to be edited some more now that I’m reading it, but I’ll definitely do that later…

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