#two of my sisters have lived there at different times and they both wish they never left

[moeblob]

I like the fact Tremaine's designated color is pink while Germaine's is maroon because if I draw them together it looks so bright and happy but they're in a dying world and both commit crimes many times a week just to survive. But hey, whatever.

If love is how they die, it beats starvation or injury! So letting them be codependent is like a treat almost.

[alliswyattonthewesternfront]

new zealand only makes hitters. rose matefeo. karl urban. alice snedden. lucy lawless. sam neil. melanie lynskey. bruce spence. temuera morrison. peter jackson from a decade ago. all the guys in wētā workshop. whole island of the hittingest people alive, god damn.

[januaryembrs]

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

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

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

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

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

series masterlist | next chapter

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer gulped quietly. 

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

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing. 

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

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

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

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

So why lie?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+1. The one where you get arrested.

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

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

Yet so was Emily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+2. The one where you graduate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bug-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t even,” 

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was when the shooting started. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could only hope Emily was safe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so they did. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

This was not good. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

2:53 stared back at her. 

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

2:54.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she saw why. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saved mine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stayed with Emily for a month after that. 

+4. The one where you leave the altar. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

[nicksolemnlyswears]

STAY WITH US

this oneshot can be read as a standalone.

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME (PT. 2 HELAENA'S TURN)

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader x helaena targaryen

word count: ~2.7k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of death of a child, mentions of blood, light cursing

a/n: so i lied, so sorry, my apologies, remember how i said i wanted this part to be smut? well it didn't happen. in the end it didn't seem right because these oneshots originated form a place of care and comfort [not horniness like usual]

that being said i am open to doing a series of small oneshots based on their relationship that are more spicy because regardless it lives rent free on my brain and i'd love to share the pervertedness they'd get up to. also i've never written a threesome and that seems like a good writing exercise.

hope you like this oneshot. it's really sweet and when i was thinking of what else to do with them it simply clicked. my only wish is for it to have the same comfort provoking feeling as the other two. while this little series was written as a way for me to feel better about these characters it makes me happy to know it served the same purpose for a lot of you guys. also this was my first time writing for HoTD and you're all so nice ;) THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE.

enjoy!

Without Jaehaerys by her side, his twin sister Jaehaera must adjust to being alone. Her lifelong playmate is gone, and now she ought to find her place as an only child.

The silver-haired girl restlessly jumps through different activities, searching for the one that will entertain her long enough without company. It is difficult because each time she successfully gets distracted, she turns to catch her brother's attention, only to find he's no longer there.

Queen Helaena watches her as she stitches together a new embroidery piece for a dress. The Queen spent her days with both her children, but now that one of them is gone, she spends nearly every waking moment with her daughter. Observing. Protecting. Alert.

"The three-headed dragon shall rise once more," Helaena mumbles under her breath. The maids ignore her mumblings. The Queen's words don't make sense half the time.

A squeal of delight from her daughter prompts the needle to pierce Helaena's finger and a bead of blood forms at the pad of it. Looking up, she finds you picking up Jaehaera and kissing her chubby cheeks. The girl is enamored by her cousin and the attention you provide.

"Good morrow, 'Laena," you brightly greet her, setting down Jaehaera and sitting by her on the floor. "Have you broken fast yet?"

Helaena places a hand in yours as a greeting and nods kindly, assuring you she's been eating all her meals. At times, her appetite turns into nausea as glimpses of her dead son invade her senses, but she tries fighting through it.

She closes her eyes and thinks of anything else—primarily you. You who distract her and treat her with such care without judgment of her eccentricities. It's odd how she's caught herself multiple times seeking your approval.

As Helaena returns to her stitching, Jaehaera bounces over and falls into your arms. "I wish for my hair to be like yours."

"Allow me, Princess," Jaehaera's nursemaid intervenes. She does not wish to be seen as lazy and incapable of her job to care for the children.

The small Princess holds tightly onto you, hiding her face on your chest as she settles on your lap. "No, I want my cousin to do it. She's a Princess, and I want Princess's hair."

You giggle at her words and gesture to the nursemaid that it's alright. "Come on, sweet girl, sit," you coo, positioning her in front of you.

One of the maids hands you a hairbrush, and you begin your work. As a Princess, your hair is mostly styled by your maids, but every lady should know how to style it appropriately.

"You're such a pretty girl, Jaehaera. Did you know that?" You talk to distract her from squirming too much. She's an impatient little thing, like her father.

Jaehaera giggles sound throughout the room. She hasn't laughed like that since her brother died. It brings a sad smile to Helaena's lips.

"You're prettier," Jaehaera whispers bashfully, her cheeks a healthy hue of pink.

"Oh, I don't know about that. You're much more beautiful. Do you know why?"

Jaehaera shakes her head, causing you to hold tightly onto the intricate plaits you're weaving in her hair. You inadvertently smile at her benightedness.

"Because you look just like your mummy, and she's very beautiful, and she's a Queen," you gasp lightly, creating a tone of excitement in your voice.

Although she's kept her nose down while stitching, Helaena's cheeks burn just as brightly as her daughters. Your words continue to flatter her. You have a way with words that can make even the most ordinary of townsfolk feel special.

With a small, excited gasp, Jaehaera asks, "Will I be Queen one day?"

"There's always a possibility," you hum, pining the remaining plait into her hair. It is hard to explain the complexities of succession and legacy to a child when there is a current war debating that same subject. "All done, go over to the mirror."

"She adores you," Helaena sighs as she watches her daughter fawn over her new hairstyle.

"And I, her. She's the sweetest girl ever."

Helaena turns to look at you and sees the soft smile gracing your lips. Your eyes then catch hers, and your smile broadens. It makes her wonder what her life would be like if you were not around. How would she have dealt with her emotions?

"I must go, but can you come to my bedchambers tonight? There is a matter I must discuss with you," Helaena says timidly, casting aside her embroidery.

"As you wish, my Queen." You can't fault her for preferring to speak in the depth of the night when the castle sleeps, and there are no wandering eyes to pass judgment.

It gives Helaena whiplash when you effortlessly switch from calling her name to calling her 'my Queen.' She rather enjoys both terms, especially when you call her yours.

Helaena bids you farewell with a kiss on the cheek, blissfully unaware of its effect on you. Such displays of affection are not rare in court, but lately, their significance has changed for you, as Helaena has never been one to indulge in court etiquette when it involves physical touch.

When the sun has disappeared over the horizon, and the castle has quieted down, you make your way to the Queen's bed chambers.

You have always been inclined to stay in the shadows, where it's safe. You are a sheep amongst a den of wolves, and if you draw too much attention to yourself, danger will follow.

You have failed so far, considering you enjoy the company of the King and Queen. Grief unexpectedly brought you together and made your bond steadfast, but wherever Aegon and Helaena go, watchful gazes follow, thus making you part of the spectacle as well.

Otto and Alicent Hightower are taking the reins of this unnecessary war, but you feel safe under Aegon's and Helaena's careful watch. You believe they will protect you from any danger coming from within the castle walls, at the very least.

You're doing your mother a great disservice as you strengthen the bond of the King and Queen. The ache of losing a child will forever remain in their hearts, and waves of pain continue to crash, but that thick fog of grief that was cast upon them has slowly started to lift, thanks to you.

Pushing open the door to Helaena's bedchambers, you step into the room. It's well into the night, and the candlelight illuminates the room. You stumble over your steps when you notice Aegon and Helaena standing close together as if they were about to kiss.

"My apologies, your graces. I believed the Queen to be alone," you bow your head, red painting your cheeks. It's a gesture that originates from embarrassment rather than submissiveness.

"Do not apologize. We wished to speak to you," Aegon speaks, beckoning you deeper into the room.

He offers you a goblet of wine, which you accept gracefully to alleviate the dizzying wave of nerves you're feeling. You've never been alone with Aegon and Helaena. People have always been around, and up to a fortnight ago, they barely spoke to one another.

The ruling couple sought your counsel regarding their marriage, recognizing you as an intermediary. You offered your advice to the best of your abilities, considering you have yet to marry.

With time and encouragement, they reached out to each other for comfort. Piece by piece, they were able to speak and share the emotions that troubled them. Nonetheless, they kept you closer than ever.

You're the calm amidst the storm.

You take a drink of the sweet wine to busy yourself. Helaena and Aegon stand side by side, his hand on the small of her back as Helaena plays with her fingers. They're backlit by the fire burning by the fireplace. It casts a warm glow over their figures, making the situation seem much more intimate. You're certainly intruding.

"We wish to thank you for everything you've done for us recently," Helaena breaks the creeping silence. She's just as nervous as you are, if not more.

"Helaena and I have been thinking about how to repay you for your generosity," Aegon continues, staring intently back at you to gauge your reaction to his words. He's afraid of reading you wrong and fucking things up—like he usually does.

You instantly shake your head, "As I said before, there is no need-"

Helaena's following words cause silence to befall as you stare back at them in surprise. A sort of surprise they cannot read. "We wish to wed you," Helaena blurts nervously, her fingers twisting together.

This is not a moment to speak in riddles. Helaena is fully aware of the situation before her and wishes nothing more than for you to stay by their side, no matter the cost.

For once in her life, she hasn't felt lonely in the castle. She has an ally she can trust and confide in.

You've been the subject of Aegon and Helaena's conversations for numerous nights. At first, it was difficult to understand that they both held deep affection towards you while caring for each other. They debated for a long time about what to do about it and they agreed on one thing wholeheartedly—you only deserved the best.

Then, it came to Aegon.

He's named after Aegon' The Conqueror' Targaryen. The King took over the seven kingdoms with his sister wives by his side.

A simple Valyrian tradition would solve their dilemma while strengthening his claim to the throne. It's poetic, a part of history being re-enacted.

"Pardon?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. You stare back at them with wide eyes as they jump from Aegon to Helaena and back to Aegon.

The goblet in your hand lightly shakes along with your hand. You place it on a nearby table, afraid of spilling it. Surely, you misheard.

"Our affection grows greater day by day. More than we ever thought possible," Helaena confesses, desperately reaching for your hand.

Your gaze falls on Aegon to seek his opinion, and he nods in agreement. There is not much to say. You have proved yourself valuable to them in a way that is much too important. You serve to keep them sane and emotionally stable. A feat no one has cared to accomplish before.

You do not use Aegon as a puppet or manipulate him to achieve sinister goals on behalf of his name, much like the rest of the court does. Those people only care for power, even if they break Aegon piece by piece. They destroy him while you take the time to pick up the pieces and put him back together.

"Such drastic actions must not be taken. I merely offered you comfort when you needed it because I care for you both," you stutter, pressing a hand to your forehead. All of a sudden, the room is warm, and a layer of perspiration forms on the back of your neck.

Aegon grunts and approaches you, cupping your face in his palms, "That is precisely why we wish to do this. You have cared for us like no one has before, including ourselves. You planted yourself in our souls, and now we cannot let you go lest we go insane. If you do not feel the same, say it, but do not lie to us."

His tone is firm, yet he cannot disguise the pleading behind it. He's never wanted something as much as he wants you.

"I-" Your palms ghost over the top of his.

It is all too much. The prospect of being wed looms over your head like a threat. Otto Hightower will have no qualms about using your lack of a husband as a war strategy. It should not be his decision in the first place, but it is out of your hands as you're considered a prisoner to him.

You would be a liar if you said you did not reciprocate their feelings. They've been present for a while now, it is why comforting them comes so easily to you. Seeing them hurt only pains you.

With this new opportunity, you will no longer be used. You will not be sold to some old lord in the countryside for the gain of a few hundred men. You would be protected.

Most importantly, you will marry a man and a woman who love you. Yes, they are broken, but with you by their side, they will thrive and rise to the occasion.

Aegon's lilac eyes beg you to accept their proposal. "I feel emotions I thought impossible. They are confusing and overwhelming, but they are real," you admit.

Relief floods over Aegon, and he can't help but release a sigh of relief. He presses his forehead against yours, whispering a silent thank you to the old gods and the new.

"Will you become our wife? Our lifelong companion?" Helaena asks, coming up behind you. You feel her breath on your neck as she leans her head on your shoulder.

One word is enough to respond. One simple word will change your life. For good or bad is to be determined.

"Yes," you breathe, reaching for her hand. The smile on Aegon's lips and Helaena's giggles in your ear make it all worth it.

Aegon needed to do things right so no one could argue against your union. He contacted the Septon himself, and only a day later, after his proposal, the Valyrian ceremony took place.

He clearly instructed his guard and the Septon that they must not tell anyone, or there would be consequences.

The ceremony is quick and private amongst the gardens of the Red Keep. You wear the traditional red and gold robes and headpieces that match Aegon's.

A red dragon decorates the front of your garb, matching Helaena's golden one on her dress. She stands to the side with a faint smile, Jaehaera clinging to her dress.

Aegon carefully cuts your lip with the dragon glass. As blood surges to the surface, he presses his thumb to the cut and later spreads it across your skin. You repeat the same on his lips, staring apologetically back at him, yet the burning pain does not compare to the pain he's felt before. It's almost pleasurable as he takes in the symbolism of the gesture.

Cutting your palms, you let the blood that will bind you together for eternity fall onto the goblet. You lock eyes with Aegon as you take a drink from it, passing it to him a moment later.

He was not raised surrounded by Targaryen customs, but he has a new deep appreciation for them. The ceremony is deeply intimate as they share the blood that will mark them as one.

With a couple of final words, the Septon concludes the ceremony and with the knowledge that you are entirely theirs, Aegon crashes his lips against yours.

Aegon stayed firm in his words. He did not wish to sully your name, so he waited until the moment was right. The reward is much too sweet.

It is the first time you've shared a kiss with Aegon, and it is unlike anything you've felt before. In the past, you've snuck kisses in dark corners of the Red Keep, but none have ever kissed you with the intensity Aegon has to offer.

Helaena approaches your tangled embrace, and as you resurface for a breath, she presses her much more delicate lips on yours. The kiss is so different yet the same simultaneously. The intent behind it is identical while the pace is slower and sultrier.

Yours and Aegon’s blood coats her lips and it’s as if she also partook on the ceremony. Your heart beats intensely inside your chest but you’re happy.

Finally, you three are bonded, destined to stay together for eternity.

Jaehaerys will forever be missed. His life has become a mystery; Aegon and Helaena will never see it fulfilled. But in this tragedy, the gods were kind to Aegon and Helaena and provided a new person to love, cherish, and join their family.

were you expecting a good old throuple situation? eh, eh (pretend i'm wiggling my eyebrows and nudging your side with my elbow). im just saying she's perfect for their little dysfunctional family and the drama it will create with the Hightowers and Targaryens? immaculate.

if you enjoyed this oneshot please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept keyboard smashes, emojis, words of encouragement, praise, virtual hugs and gushing about hel and aegon) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

[gguk-n]

Fading Shadow (Lando Norris x ex-Reader)

Part 2 of Last Straw Inspired by this request

Summary- Y/N moved on. Lando is still stuck, on what they had and what he lost.

{Reader's POV}

The moment I landed back home, I felt relief wash over me when I cried in my mother's arms. I had been holding on to too much, it seems. My father brought my favourite food and we ate together and we laughed together. This was the therapy I needed. My siblings weren't very happy with Lando since they had seen everything unfold on social media but they were happy to have their sister back. I was happy to be back home. I needed this, I needed my people.

I decided I needed a change of pace, a change of scenery. I had been mourning my relationship while I was still in it. Now, I was a new me, I was going to do everything I wanted.

I applied at the company I always wanted to work at but due to there being no vacancies I was assigned a job in a different country and I was ready to take on the world. I knew Lando would never search for me, he never truly loved me but I still wanted to leave. I needed a fresh start.

{Lando's POV}

The silence after the break up was exactly what I needed, or so I thought. I could leave as I wished. I could go out whenever I wanted. I didn't have to explain myself to anyone. It's so much better to be single then to be tied down.

I didn't think I would ever miss Y/N, but I did. I remember exactly when I missed her for the first time; it was after a difficult race and I had finish decently with the shitty cards I had and I just wanted someone to tell me how well I did; but there was no one; no one who knew what I wanted to hear. I felt so alone even when I was surrounded by hundreds of people for the first time in a long time.

The second time I missed her was when I was stood on top of the top step of the podium. I wanted to have her around so I could share my highs with her. I didn't get a 'do you wanna go out to celebrate?' like the last two times and I aired her both time to party with random girls. Right now, I was in the club celebrating my third win of my career and season and I felt empty and alone. Not even the alcohol helped.

The house we lived in was a stark reminder of the time we spent together. All our dates we had. All the times she would teach me how to cook but we would always end up with a big mess and half cooked or burnt food since I would get distracted. In retrospect, I loved every second of it even though I never admitted it then. I love all the time we spent together or the laugh she would emit when I messed up. I missed her and I wish she was here; I was too stupid to admit it then but I do now.

Oscar was getting sick and tired of me using his phone to check on Y/N's social media accounts since she had blocked me every where. I would end up borrowing the other driver's phone to check, just in case. Until one day, her account stopped showing up for Oscar too. I went through almost everyone on the paddock's phone to see if she had blocked my friends. Turns out, she had deactivated her social media accounts; I realised that after one of the gossip pages posted about her deactivating her profiles, across all the platforms.

I would wake up from dreams about her and I would fall asleep to the thought of her. No woman interested me anymore; I wish I was this loyal when we were dating, when she could see that I loved her, not now when she couldn't even see I had changed.

My PR team was losing their shit when I tweeted that. I had to sit through a stupid meeting after everything. It was miracle I didn't start crying in the middle of the meeting.

People had started to notice I guess, since Carlos approached me. "Cabron, what's up?" he asked while I was lying on my couch after media day. "Nothing" I hummed. "I fucked up right?" I asked. "I can't say no" Carlos said. I laughed painfully. "I didn't know how good I had it until it was all gone. I'm an ass and I deserve everything I'm getting" I cried. Carlos comforted me, hugging me tightly. "I just wish she would talk to me, at least once. So, that I could show her that I've changed. I really have Carlos. I love her so much, it hurts" I cried into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Lando" he said patting my back.

There's a saying, You don't know what you've got until it's gone. I was living that nightmare and I will never stop living it.

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

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[interstellarflare]

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART FOUR-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. Gif by @catalinabaylors

|PART ONE| |PART TWO| |PART THREE|

Sooner than he would have liked, the time to leave for Lady Danbury’s ball crept up on Anthony. Truth be told, he really wasn’t looking forward to tonight.

Eloise still wasn’t speaking with him, at least politely anyway. She would glare, scoff in annoyance every time he opened his mouth, and often snapped a snide remark in reply to a question.

Anthony could see that his mother, Violet, was incredibly uncomfortable with the whole situation. She had warned the two of them to sort out their differences before arriving at Lady Danbury’s residence, otherwise the two would be an embarrassment to not only themselves, but the Bridgerton House. Even if was only just for the night.

The carriage jostled about along the cobblestone street, with Violet, Eloise and Anthony sitting in complete awkward silence. Anthony could feel his sister’s glare burning holes into his head, the tension weighing heavily as his gaze moved to settle on his mother. Violet looked between her two children nervously.

They were to be at Lady Danbury’s residence any second now, appearing before the ton in such a state was not a good look for anyone. “Now I don’t know what is bothering the both of you, but you two need to resolve this matter quickly. You are both the face of our family tonight-“

“Mother-“

“Enough! I have never seen the two of you bicker like this before, it is unlike you both. Now I suggest that you settle this matter here and now, before we are to arrive” Violet snapped, glaring harshly between her two children before her. All Anthony could do was sigh. He heard Eloise scoff, shifting uncomfortably beside him as she grumbled “Fine. I will play nice for now, but you need to actually open your eyes-“

“Open my eyes to what!?” Anthony exclaimed, turning his body to face her fully “You had told me nothing! What exactly am I supposed to be looking for here?”

“It is so plainly obvious, even Colin could figure it out”

“Then why don’t you tell me!?” Anthony shouted, hearing his mother sigh heavily across from him.

Eloise glared, clearly uncomfortable with where this conversation was progressing. He noticed that her hands had now clenched into fists by her side, her eyes falling to the carriage floor. “I…I cannot, I am sworn to secrecy-“

“Oh for the love of-“

“Oh thank god, we’ve arrived…” Violet breathed nervously, fixing her cream and gold patterned dress as she adjusted her gloves anxiously. Both Anthony and Eloise fell into silence, anger bubbling in his chest as he continued to stare at his sister.

Something was going on, and it irked him to not know what it was. He felt the carriage stop, and turned his gaze towards his mother as she quickly exited the carriage and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Next was Eloise, who cleared her throat and fixed her skirts as she moved toward the carriage door, but Anthony stopped her. He gently grabbed her forearm, stopping her from moving as she quickly turned to face him, a furious expression on her features.

“Does this have something to do with Y/n? The girl we met this morning?”.

He’d been wanting to ask that question since their return home, since Benedict had bothered him all afternoon about his feud with their sister. If this was supposedly about you in some way or another…why? He knew that you and Eloise were close, good friends even. But what did Eloise, and supposedly Colin know that the rest of the ton did not? What was going on in the Worthington household?

The way Eloise’s expression softened confirmed his suspicions, she sighed heavily. “I can say no more, but I will say this to you, and I want you to think about it…really think about it. The ton knows that Lady Worthington married Lord L/n upon his late wife’s passing, and she adopted Lord L/n’s daughter alongside her own. So, think on this dear brother…what happened to her?”

Anthony froze, his brow furrowing as he though on Eloise’s words. He hadn’t thought about it really, no one had seen Lord L/n’s daughter since his passing. He’d heard rumours that she had run away in grief, leaving behind her family estate and fortune to Lady Worthington and her daughters. He remembered he’d only seen her once, he’d attended one of Lady Danbury’s balls as a child with his mother and late father. He had been quite nervous being amongst all those people, but he couldn’t take his eyes off a young girl about his age, perhaps a little younger, dancing with some of the men and women at the ball.

She had the brightest smile, and a contagious laugh. It was only after the ball upon their return home that Anthony had asked his father who that girl was. Upon hearing that it was the daughter of Lord L/n, he’d hoped to see her again. But he never had.

Violet stuck her head back inside the carriage, glaring at the two of them harshly. “Will the two of you get out!? People are watching!” She exclaimed in a hushed whisper, urging the two of them out with her hand. Eloise forced her arm out of her brother’s hold and stepped outside, smiling forcefully up at her mother as she tried to appear happy.

But Anthony was stunned. He felt rather uncomfortable now, unsure of what to think or do now with this knowledge. It irked him, made his stomach churn uneasily as he stepped out of the carriage and fixed his jacket. His eyes met Eloise’s once again, and he couldn’t help but feel sad. He entered the ball by her side, his arm looped through hers as they moved about the crowd of people. His mother had disappeared to speak with Lady Danbury, he could see the two on the other side of the room gossiping to themselves happily.

He felt as if he was in a trance. Amongst the dazzling light of the chandelier and the multitude of candelabras strewn about the room, he couldn’t focus. The sounds, the surroundings, everything was blurring into one big mass. He left Eloise for a moment, allowing her to mingle with some other debutants while he chose to escape outside for a moment of fresh air.

He felt sick, an uneasy feeling settling in his chest. It had only been an hour since their arrival, but all Anthony wanted to do was leave. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t actually come to terms with what Eloise was suggesting…if she was even suggesting that in the first place. He took a deep breath in, now turning back to face the congregation inside.

He couldn’t go back inside, not after seeing Lady Worthington and her daughters enter the room with an extravagant pose. Upon seeing Lady Worthington, dressed in a deep blue gown with golden shawl draped over her shoulders, Anthony jumped the small balcony and landed in the gardens below. He fixed his jacket, releasing a quick breath as his eyes quickly darted around to make sure no one had seen him.

Though…he had to be the most unfortunate man at the ball tonight.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Benedict exclaimed in a hushed tone, a confused yet furious expression on his features.

Anthony flinched, lifting his gaze upward and giving his brother an awkward grin.

“Cover for me”.

“Excuse me!?”

“Just…be there for Eloise…” Anthony groaned in annoyance, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly “…I have some business I need to take care of-“

“Don’t you dare leave me here with…” Benedict growled, his entire form freezing as he heard the shrill voice of a woman call out to him, one that Anthony couldn’t help but snicker at “…that.”

“It would appear that Miss Mary Worthington requires your presence, dear brother. Perhaps it is I that will enjoy your misfortune instead-“

“Oh, oh ha ha ha…” Benedict snapped sarcastically, glaring down at his older brother with annoyance “…you’re such little bas-“

“Give my sincerest apologies to our mother, and I shall see you upon my return home!” Anthony called out as he spun on his heel and jogged away, laughing quietly to himself as his brothers’ pleading cries faded into the distance.

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[mcu-coworkers]

Exploring The Prince

Summary: Seeing Aegon again brought something new out of you.

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen X Targaryen reader

A/N: This is a part 2 to A Weeks Time which can be read here I plan to continue this series as season 2 goes on so I will tag those parts as I go. I hope you like them and enjoy. :)

(As always I do not own the gif or the characters involved :))

You had traveled from Dragonstone to Kingslanding countless times before this.

But back then it was different, back then you were going to visit your grandfather and cousins nervous for what would break out in a fight first.

Between your cousins and brothers there was always something.

You were lucky to have Helaena in all of this. If not for her they would have driven you to insanity.

”Are you ready my dearest sister?” Lucerys asked as he crept up behind you.

The three of you decided to ride on a dragon back to Kingslanding while your mother and Daemon rode with your younger siblings.

This only meant you would arrive some time earlier than your mother and Daemon, luckily you have your brothers by your side.

” I am as ready as I can be brother.” You answered with a soft smile.

”My sister, do you want this? This marriage to Aegon?” He asked.

Turning to him I noticed his look of confusion.

”It was not an idea of mine, but it is my duty if it is requested by the king.” You answered as you walked closer to him. “Does it bother you Luke?” You asked, looking at his face for an answer.

Although a blind man could have seen it from miles away.

”They aren’t very fond of us, they never have been. I just don’t want him or his brother to take it out on you, I worry for you my sister.” He said taking your hand in his.

”Luke, you are an angel sent from the gods themselves.” You exclaimed as you hugged him tightly.

Moments like this made your eyes tear up, Rhaena was lucky to be his betrothed.

“ I promise you, If I need your rescue I will fly back to Dragonstone at once.” You said smiling at him hoping to ease his conscience.

Before he could say anything else Jacaerys interrupted you both by joining in on your hug.

”Will the two of you wrap this up? We must get on with it if we want to deliver our sister to the wolves by the end of day Luke.” He said attitude dripping from every word.

Deadpanning and looking at Jace he ruined your efforts to ease Lukes mind.

”Jacaerys! I am not being fed to the wolves and if I were I have my dragon I can come back at anytime.” You responded annoyed with your brothers sour mood.

”Besides, Aegon has yet to cause me any discomfort.” You said as a matter of fact.

”That’s because out of us four,” he said pointing at us, “You are the only one who resembles them.” He said, swirling a strand of your white hair in his finger.

”That is not my fault Jacaerys. I wish it were different.” You said feeling a sense of guilt.

You didn’t know why things happened the way that they did but they did and you had no choice in the color of your hair.

Only the gods know why you did.

Sighing, Jacaerys knew he let his mouth go too far.

”My apologies my sister, I did not mean to upset you.” He said this time with a genuine tone in his voice.

Grabbing both of their hands you made them look at you.

”This moment in my life is meant to bring peace between our families, promise me you won’t do or say anything to ruin that? Please.” You begged.

You couldn’t live in a world where you had to choose between your brothers and your betrothed.

You wouldn’t.

Looking at each other your brothers sighed as a form of acceptance.

”You have our word sister, we will not start anything, we will only defend ourselves should they start it first.” Jacaerys finished.

You couldn’t win with these two but you’d take anything at this point.

”Thank you,” You said as you hugged them both, “Now shall we get going? We have a long day of travel ahead of us.” You said as you led them to your dragons.

——

While you rode through the sky with your brothers Kingslanding prepared for your arrival.

Among them was Aegon.

Last he saw you, your brothers had taken Aemonds eye and your mother married Daemon.

All of these years and just now he wondered what you might look like now.

He wondered if you were still and kind and gentle as he remembered.

If your hair was still as soft as it felt when he’d play with it while he told you stories of all the dragon riders he read about.

He knew one day you’d grow to be a beautiful young woman and any man would be lucky to have you at his side.

Little did he know that when that day came he was to be that man for you.

And he only hoped to be enough.

”Lost in thought my brother? I don’t believe I have ever seen you this silent.” A voice said behind him.

Turning to reveal Aemond as the voice to startle his thoughts he turns back to his view of the city.

”That’s because I ’ve never been my dearest brother.” He said, admitting to his change.

”And what’s brought this out of you?” Aemond pushes, although he already knew the answer.

The truth is Aemond had known for years, no one calmed Aegon the way your presence did. It surprised him that Aegon didn’t realize this in the years you two lived under the same roof.

He questioned if Aegon himself even knew it now. How could one be so blind yet have both eyes?

He’d never understand.

“Just saving my energies for Jacaerys and Luke, you know they can come in quite strong sometimes.” He said absentmindedly.

Aegon didn’t want to let Aemond in on his thoughts.

They were of you, and you were pure, he would not let his brothers hatred for yours damage that image.

Chuckling at Aegon Aemond smirks, “And there he is.”

”Now that I see you are well and intact, I should have you know that she arrived quite some time ago.” Aemond said, unable to hold back his amusement at the way his brother's head whipped in his direction.

“What? How long ? I didn’t expect them so soon.” He said standing to walk past his brother.

”They rode on dragon back, seems its only her and her brothers.” Aemond said with mischief in his tone.

Aegon stopped in his tracks upon hearing it.

”Listen to me brother, any ideas you may have, rid yourself of them. If not for her sake then mine. She deserves none of it.” Aegon said, “Give me your word Aemond.” He finished forcing his brother to look him in the eyes.

”Fine, you have my word. But do not waste your time looking for her now, the queen has taken it upon herself to receive them. You won't see her until dinner tonight.” Aemond said, walking past his brother.

Damn my mother and her ways.

——

Dinner could not have arrived soon enough for the both of you.

The Queen managed to keep you quite “busy” for all those hours with her rant of her new found religion.

Aegon on the other hand was forced to pace in his quarters, too annoyed to deal with anyone yet too impatient to sit still and read one of his books.

He wondered if you’d still like to listen to the stories he read like before.

Or if your brothers had poisoned your mind with whatever distasteful thoughts that came out of their mouths.

The thought angered Aegon.

Before he could indulge in such poisonous thoughts a maid knocked on his door.

”Dinner is ready to be served my lord.” She said quickly before turning away.

Finally, Aegon thought.

Aegon all but barged in into the dining room expecting to see everyone but finding no one.

”Dammit.” He cursed as he grabbed a cup and served himself a large amount of wine.

Sitting himself in his assigned seat he waited for the rest to follow.

After your afternoon with the queen you had only a few moments to ready yourself for dinner before your brothers came in to walk you down.

As the three of you walked down the halls you began to fiddle with your fingers.

What if he changed? What if he really was all that you heard and worse?

Standing at the doors of the dining room you took a deep breath and prepared yourself.

Whatever he was now, he was to be your husband and only that could you be sure of.

As the doors opened you put on your gentlest smile and prepared yourself for whatever greeting you’d be given.

”There they are, come my grandchildren.” Viserys said as he waved for you all to join his side.

Quickly you did as he asked joyfully to hear his voice.

”Hello grandfather.” You said as you bowed to his grace.

“My dear y/n how beautiful you’ve come to be, come sit next to your betrothed.” He said, turning to Aegon.

You could feel your brothers stare at the back of your head as you turned yourself to face Aegon.

Walking towards him you bowed your head slightly, “My prince.”

“My betrothed.” He answered with a quiet smile.

Offering his hand to you, taking his hand you walked with him and sat by his side.

Sitting down you began to feel how different things would be.

Your brothers across from you instead of next to you and you next to Aegon.

“Lost in thought?” You heard from next to you.

Turning you came face to face with Aegon.

“My apologies, This is the first I have a second to do so.” You said, taking in his features.

Blue eyes, soft skin. His hair was shorter.

His shoulders more broad, jawline sharper. It was no surprise to you that Aegon aged well.

“Tell me.” He requested softly.

“May I be honest, my prince?” You asked.

My prince, Aegon thought. In that you were right. From the moment he saw you walk in those doors he was devotedly yours.

“ If I am to be your husband, we must learn to trust each other so please, be honest.” He said, watching your eyes soften sensing your relief brought him happiness.

Smiling, you talked to him about your day with the queen and how little interest you truly had in the faith of the seven but listened to her out of respect to your queen.

It wasn’t until you began to talk about your ride here that he finally saw your features light up.

The way you spoke of your dragon, the smile you carried, the glimmer in your eyes.

He only hoped you’d glow like this at the mention of his name some day.

Eventually dinner came to an end and your brothers stood to walk you back to your room.

“ I can walk her back to her room, Jacaerys.” Aegon insisted on wanting to have more time with you.

“Don’t be mad, it is not custom for you to be alone until you wed, come sister.” Jacaerys demanded for your hand.

Wanting to avoid a fight, you took your brother's hand and bid Aegon goodnight.

You enjoyed your time with him and could only wish it lasted longer but for now you’d wait until tomorrow.

Aegon watched as your brothers whisked you away to your chambers only wishing he could follow.

Instead he found the nearest bottle of wine and his glass and took himself to his chambers to await for the next day full of you to come.

After some while of not being able to find sleep you debated finding a maid to bring you tea or just simply taking a stroll in the garden to bring you peace.

Deciding for the ladder you grabbed your robe and made your way to the door.

Opening your door you stopped in your tracks when you came to face with Aegon back facing you.

“Aegon.” you said gently.

Turning to face you Aegon tries to make up an excuse as to why he was at your door late in the night.

Not finding any he decides to allow his mind to speak freely.

“ I couldn’t sleep, I needed someone to talk to. Is that alright?” He said, taking steps towards you.

“ I am your betrothed Aegon, it is my duty to tend to you now.” You said as you looked into his eyes a dark blue you had yet to witness from him.

A look you didn’t recognize just yet, but you would soon.

“May I come in my dearest?” Aegon asked looking down at you too close for temptation.

Giving it no second thought you stepped aside allowing him the space to come in.

Smiling at your invitation he walked in and settled for a couch at the foot of your bed.

Only then as you walked towards him did he notice your attire.

A silk gown covered with a silk robe, your hair brushed out and beautiful.

You made it difficult for him to respect your virtue and you didn’t even know it.

Sitting beside him you waited for him to speak.

Too distracted in his own thoughts you decided to interrupt.

“So what was it?” You asked breaking the silence.

“Hmm? What was what?” Aegon asked being brought back to reality.

You smiled amused at his ability to get lost in his thoughts just as easy as you did.

Realizing what you meant he quickly worked to find the words.

“Right well,” he paused turning to look at you unsure of how you would feel by his question, “What is the craziest thing you’ve done?” He asked.

Slightly taken aback by his question you took a second to think.

“ I - I am not sure by what you mean, the craziest?” You asked hoping he’d clarify.

Turning his full body to you he clarified, “When your mother was younger I heard of the stories where she’d sneak past the walls of the castle and sneak off. Have you ever done such a thing?” He asked curious to know how much you resembled your mother.

This statement made you timid toward the prince.

You’d never even thought to do such a thing. Maybe he’d find you too innocent for his liking at the revelation.

Sensing your answer in your silence Aegon reassured you by putting a hand on your lap.

“It’s alright if you’ve done nothing of the sort, we'll soon have our chance to do all sorts of things. The castle will be yours to do as you please.” He said rubbing his hand on your thigh not realizing the touch as innocent as it was left you feeling hot.

This was new to you.

The thoughts that ran through your mind as he continued to lay his hand upon you so gently.

“All sorts of things?” You asked barely above a whisper as you inched yourself closer to Aegon.

Any kind of sense leaving your mind.

“Yes, we can start exploring tonight if you’d like. Is there something you would like to see?” He asked, noticing your sudden closeness again reminding himself of his need for restraint.

“Anything?” You asked, a look of innocence in your eyes.

“Anything.” He whispered, kissing your hand.

Observing the act you pondered your next move.

On one hand you knew this was wrong on so many levels on the other hand you were losing sight of that mentality the longer his hand stayed in place.

Letting temptation win you take a hold of his hand as you look into his eyes and move his hand to the place where you need him to explore.

You know he’ll be able to help you with this temptation, after all he was to be your husband.

Looking down at the new location of his hand he clenched his jaw fighting for what little restraint he had left.

“My dearest-“ he tried but it only brought you closer to him as he began to lose what little control he had over himself.

Close enough to close the gap with a kiss. But Aegon knew it wouldn’t end with that if you allowed him.

“We are to be wed. Why not explore me?” You asked looking down at his lips wondering how it would feel to be kissed.

His breath hitched in his throat at your words.

“Why must you make it so hard to respect your virtue?” He asked, feeling your hand on his face.

“Then don’t my prince.” You said pulling him to you and closing the gap with a soft gentle kiss.

Pulling away to look into his eyes you saw the darkness behind them now understanding what it was.

For you felt it for him too.

Pulling you back to him this time Aegon grabbed you by the waist and put you on top of him as he kissed you deeply with passion as you tangled your hands into his hair.

Groaning at the sensation Aegon pulled your hips down to meet his, your heat only growing at the sensation of his cock.

Gasping as he moved your hips together, “Aegon,” you moaned into his ear needing more.

Quickly Aegon picked you up and moved you both to your bed.

“This is what you desire?” He asked, looking into your eyes and seeing them filled with lust.

“You are what I desire.” You said breathless and eager.

Those words were all Aegon needed before taking off what was left of the clothing you two had.

kissing your stomach he gently made his way up to you breast massaging your nipple gently whilst peppering kisses on the other sucking lightly on your nipple.

His touch brought quiet moans out of you as you indulge in the pleasure he gave you.

“Aegon please.” You moaned, pulling his face up to meet with yours.

Hoisting your leg onto his waist he lowered himself to kiss your lips.

“You’ll tell me if it's too much?” He asked wanting to hear your reassurance.

“Yes.” You whispered as you kissed the surface of his face not being able to get enough of him.

Kissing your lips once more this time he gently pushed himself in groaning at the sensation of your tightness.

Gasping at his size you looked down as you saw him slowly entering you, stretching your walls the deeper he went.

“Just a little more y/n, that’s it.” He said trying to focus on keeping it slow for you.

Once he was fully inside he gave you a moment to adjust before pulling himself out entirely and thrusting back in gently this time forming a pace you could grow used to.

Slowly the pain of the stretch began to turn into pleasure and your gasps turned into moans needing more

“Aegon,” you moaned into his ear, “Faster please.” You said as you wrapped your other leg around him.

“Fuck,” he said as he tried to hold on to what control he had from releasing into you too soon but your words only brought him closer.

Quickening his thrusts he grabbed a hold of your hip with one hand and held himself up with the other.

Looking down at your face almost brought him overboard as he saw the look of pleasure in your eyes.

His innocent betrothed lying beneath him as he plunged his cock deep into her soaking wet pussy.

And it was soaking wet for him.

“Aegon I - I’m-“ you tried to say but you were cut off by another moan yet he knew what you meant.

“ I know my darling, together.” He said as he rested his forehead on hers closing his eyes as he felt her tightening around him.

“Aegon!” She moaned, getting louder by the second.

Quickly Aegon kissed her to cover the sound of their climax until she came back down.

Kissing her forehead one last time before pulling out of y/n and falling to her side to catch his breath he thought about what just took place.

As did she.

Until this day she had never even had such impure thoughts.

She’d never understood what it was that came over her but the look in Aegon's eyes in that moment told her she wouldn’t need to.

Turning to face him she met him face to face with her innocent smile once again.

“For someone who said they needed someone to talk to, you didn’t do much talking,” you said, smiling.

“ I will have you all of daylight to listen to me talk tomorrow will I not?” He asked moving the few stray hairs from your face.

“You will, my prince.” You whispered as slumber began to consume your body.

Pulling you to his side Aegon kissed your head one last time before closing his eyes as well.

“Then until then my dearest.” He said as he joined you in slumber feeling a sense of fullness with you in his arms.

At Least until morning came.

[dadvans]

…what is the matthew sister field hockey bushes story????

from this New York Times piece on Taryn Tkachuk, which I think paints a nice picture of who the Tkachuk family is overall (super supportive of each other, close, ride-or-die):

The family wished her both a happy birthday and good luck. She got to the game an hour early and was in the middle of warmups when she saw them pull into the parking lot. The truth is, she couldn’t help but notice. “Matthew, Brady and my uncle (Kevin) were standing through the sunroof in the car screaming as they passed the field,” Taryn said. “Everyone, my whole team just looked over, and I was like, ‘Oh no!'” They were loud, but nervous. “I don’t know that it’s that much different than going to the boys’ games,” Chantal said. “I get just as nervous for her high school field hockey game as I do them playing.” “I was so nervous, I couldn’t watch with everybody,” Matthew said. “I went over and stood in these bushes with a couple of other people I didn’t know. I just couldn’t watch it.” (...) Villa Duchesne’s Suzanne Keefer moved the ball ahead, then teammate Georgia Leary made the play to Taryn, who backhanded it past the goalie for the game-winning goal. “I have no idea how it happened,” Taryn said. “It was just a blur.” (...) Matthew and Brady rushed the field. “I saw it go in and I just ran out of the trees,” Matthew said. “I saw Matthew going over the fence,” Brady said. “Matthew hopped the fence and he’s getting yelled at, then Brady hops the fence,” Taryn said. “The same ref we were giving it to all game told me to get off the field,” Matthew said. In Toronto, Thomas was watching on his phone. “I was scrolling Instagram, and either Matthew or Brady put the link to the live stream of the game on there, and I just so happened to pull it up,” he said. “It was in OT and literally within two minutes, I saw the goal, so it was pretty crazy timing. So I actually got to see the celebration of Matthew and Brady when they jumped over the fence. The camera panned right to them and they were right in the middle of the team celebration, so it was pretty funny.”

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Lookalike (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Inside the highest tower of the Red Keep, lives a girl with long silver hair...

Warnings: Oh man. What a trip. Rapunzel, innocence kink, daddy issues, cursing, mature language. Light groping, kissing. Daemon, and all his usual warnings. Manipulation. I tried to make it whimsical. You know, a fairy tale.

Requested: Yup. For the bingo. Daemon + retelling of another story. Posted it early because I couldn't sleep last night so I stayed up finishing this.

Once upon a time, in a far away land called Westeros, lived a King and a Queen. The Queen was a beautiful woman, with hair made of spun silver and gold.

The King and the Queen had a daughter, a bright girl called Rhaenyra. They loved her deeply, but as many powerful men behind him, the King could not help but wish for a son.

When the Queen had carried Rhaenyra, her pregnancy had been harsh. She had struggled to fall with child, and when she had, she had been sick the whole time. The Queen was not too sure if she could withstand another pregnancy.

“My love, I need my heir.” The King said to her. “You must help me and try again.”

“But husband, you know we cannot. The Maester said pregnancies were too rough on me."

“If I can't have my heir, I fear I will lose my throne!”

So the Queen decided to try again. Soon, she was with child. Yet, the Queen could feel something was different, this time. She got twice as large as she was when she was carrying Rhaenyra, her body ached even more. Only the hottest baths could soothe her abundant pains.

“This pregnancy is not normal, not normal at all.” Said the Maester, when examining the Queen. “I fear the delivery will be hard.”

And hard it was. For there was not one baby but two. A girl and a boy, a moon and a sun. The parents only found out when the Queen was unable to deliver the baby, and the King, believing it to be his precious heir, ordered the Maester to cut her open.

Wailing into the world they came, shrieks so loud they rose half the Red Keep. Every bell in the city was toiling for them. The King named his heir Baelon. The girl, the little moon, was forgotten. That was you.

Too young to know it then, your first hours were spent in your sister's arms, both of you forgotten in favor of the new heir. But it was barely hours at all when your little brother passed away.

At the funeral, the King was the picture of despair. His Queen was dead by his hand, his heir lasted no longer than a day. Now a father to a baby girl he didn’t know how to care for, and an unruly maiden.

Perhaps, sensing his despair and hoping to offer some words of comfort, and Arryn cousin took you from him and gasped:

“By the Sevens! If she is the very image of Aemma as a babe.” No one took in consideration that this Arryn cousin was not, in fact, older than the Queen.

“Is she?” The King asked, on the verge of tears. Your father could not stop remembering your mother’s face, as the Maester aided your entrance into the world. Her cries haunted him even in his sleep. He was turning into a decaying corpse, from inside out, guilt rotting him alive. “Rhaenyra, come here.”

“Father?”

“Does she look like your mother?”

Your sister squinted at you. You yawned, a toothless, sweet thing. Rhaenyra wasn't very knowledgeable about babes, but she liked you. You had grabbed into her finger the first time you had seen her, tiny fingers turning into the most adorable rings.

“She has her beauty.” She answered, politely. The King hummed, an idea sparkling into his head. Soon, the highest tower in the Red Keep was being repurposed, and the Hand relocated.

Nine and ten years later, that brings us to you, in a continent named Westeros. Inside it, Seven Kingdoms. Inside them, a city called King's Landing. Inside the city is a castle. In the castle, a tower. In the tower is a room. In the room, a girl. You.

You stared at your reflection, squaring your shoulders. You gave yourself a big smile.

“Father, I want to try claiming a dragon.” You repeated to the mirror, before shaking your head. “No, no. Too disrespectful. Lord Father, I was wondering if I could go and try to claim a dragon?”

The reflection did not answer. You frowned. You didn't like groveling, but you weren't too sure of what else you could do. Perhaps, sending him a note would be better.

As the youngest sister of the heir to the Iron Throne, you had led a sheltered life. Even more so, as the spitting image of his late wife, according to your father. When looked in the right light, your eyes were the same shade hers had been. And the way you spoke did resemble the short, clipped speech of the Vale.

No one dared question those things, even though your accent had been ensured by your father by providing you with tutors only from that region. The King was very protective of you, set on expiating his guilt over the death of your mother by ensuring your safety.

All of your care had been provided by him after her death. Viserys knew nothing about child-rearing, but refused to let any servant touch you beyond the wet nurse. You grew into a child, and your father didn't even know how to cut your long, silver hair.

Years passed, and soon you learned to take care of yourself. Used to long hair as you were, you never thought about cutting it. Instead, your mind was preoccupied with more urgent matters. For example, how could you get out of the Red Keep.

Sometimes, your father's protection turned overbearing. Unlike your older sister, you were not allowed to leave the castle. Nor had you been allowed to partake in the activities other young ladies did. The only way you had managed to know the world around you had been through your books and observations.

Your rooms were in the tallest tower in the Red Keep, ensuring you would be kept safe from intruders and even invaders, if such a thing ever came to pass. You had double the guards Rhaenyra and Viserys did. Instead of providing his new Queen with a sworn shield, he had chosen to devote all the Kingsguard to you.

While you knew your tower had been used for other things before, it had clearly been refurnished. Now, it worked as a castle of its own, inside which you had a tiny kitchen, bathing quarters, rooms, and a library. The idea was that you would never need anything outside it. A tiny universe, just for you. You had plenty of space for your books and trinkets, but it made for a lonely existence.

Each time there were unknown men roaming the Keep, you got sent back to your tower. Your father didn't like the idea of you being married off or corrupted by them. You were too precious, too good. He had said that when the day came, he would find you a good match. One that, you suspected, would keep you close to home. Perhaps Aegon, or one of your cousins in the Vale.

If you married at all, of course. Your father had gone through a phase of encouraging your faith in the Seven, in the hopes of you deciding to be a Septa. If you did, the King would be most pleased, for it would mean you would never suffer the same fate as your mother.

You wanted neither. What you wanted more than anything was to see the world, do the things Rhaenyra told you happened outside the Red Keep. And according to you, it would all get started if you got your own dragon.

With a dragon, you would be protected. Your father always used your lack of one as an argument for denying you the experiences ladies your age had. Your egg had not hatched, but if you claimed one, you would surely be allowed to leave.

Unfortunately, what was required to be able to bond with a dragon had been deemed too dangerous for you. King Viserys had banned you from the dragon pit, arguing that dragons could be unpredictable.

Today, you had been sent back to your tower due to an impromptu visit from your Uncle Daemon. You knew the man by reputation only, by how much he angered your father. If there was one person who you were prohibited from speaking to, it was him.

You had heard the rumors, of course. A few years back, after your mother's passing, he had taken Rhaenyra to a pleasure house. Whatever had happened inside was between her and him. To your father, though, it was enough to keep you away from him.

Smile. Square your shoulders. Try again to assert yourself. You eyed your reflection once again, wondering how you could convince the King to let you try to get a dragon. Outside, something scraped against a rock, again and again. Curious, you went to the window.

On the very base of your tower, there was a man hopelessly attempting to climb upwards. He was very dashing, sporting the same silver hair you did, only much shorter.

“Who are you?” You asked, slightly frightened. In truth, you were not used to strangers being so close to you. Your father always said men were dangerous, and that outside the Red Keep there were aberrant creatures, mean and ruthless, that hurt young maidens for their enjoyment. “Step away from my tower, or I shall call my guards!”

The man ignored you, choosing instead to stab a sword between the rocks that made up your tower. You screamed, alarmed.

“Stop that! That's not allowed, you are damaging my tower.”

The man ignored you, trying to use his sword to climb. He grunted in exertion. You ran towards your chambers and filled a jar with water. Then, you ran back to your window and dumped it on his head.

The man shrieked and fell down the few meters he had managed to progress. You laughed, startled.

“Aren't you a fearsome thing?” He muttered to himself. Then, he looked up at you, with the most purple eyes you had ever seen. “Please, Princess. Help me out.”

“Why should I? You are an intruder.” You glared down at him, not even entertaining the notion, but deciding to play along regardless. In truth, you were curious about him. And starved for companionship.

“I am being chased.” He screamed up at you, frantically looking behind him. “Please, help me.”

You leaned down towards your window, bracing your arms on the edge of it.

“Bad business, that.” Your voice was cheery and woefully uninterested. This was the most exciting that had happened to you in years, you were not about to stop it. But at the same time, you did remember all of your father's warnings. There were people out there that were not kind.

“Damn it, you are just like Aemma. Pair of cynics.” He cursed, and started to try to retrieve his sword. Your eyebrows raised.

“You knew my mother?”

The man looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. He squinted at you. His bone structure reminded you of someone.

“I did.”

Your mother. A cynic. You smiled. No one had ever told you about her, not beyond all those polite things everyone said about the dead. How kind she was, how beautiful and learned. It did nothing to make you feel closer to her, these empty platitudes. They were generic, they could be talking about any woman.

Your father never went beyond that, either. The Aemma he talked about was an idolized version of her, a woman frozen into a perfect state of likeness to the Mother. He didn't allow anyone to contradict him, not even Rhaenyra. When you were younger, she had told you your mother had been hesitant about having another pregnancy, and struggling to carry another baby to term. Your father had banned her from visiting you during the next six moons.

But this stranger was speaking of her as if he knew her well. Your heart ached to know more about your mother, know the real her. It was enough to help you make your choice. You gathered your hair and threw it down the window.

“Come up then.” You ordered.

The man looked at the mass of hair in bewilderment. He touched a strand of it, fascinated by the way it picked up the light. He did not move.

“Use it as rope. You won't hurt me.” Were all men so dumb? Surely, if this one was so slow, he could not be a threat.

“Of course. Magic hair. Fucking Viserys.” The man started to climb. He got quickly inside, panting with exertion.

“You know my father, too?” Your body tensed. This, you did not like. What if he was one of the men that were supposed to visit the castle today? One of those who corrupted and hurt young maidens?

Your heart started to beat harder and harder. You tried to convince yourself he might not be a bad man. Perhaps, he had met the King through your mother. Regardless, you turned away from him, keeping your voice and posture deceivingly calm.

“Would you like some water?” You did not wait for an answer, starting to move towards the kitchen. You reached into a cabinet, as if searching for a cup.

The man followed. You could hear his footsteps on the stone floor.

“I do know your father.” His voice was strange. As if he were realizing he was making a mistake but couldn't pinpoint why. Uninterested, you took out a cup. “He is a great King.” He added, hurriedly. Just in time for you to grab a pan, turn and smack it against his head as hard as you could.

The man dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. You hiked up your skirts and rushed to his side. Kneeling by him, you took a closer look at his sword and grinned. You had seen it before. In your books. That was Dark Sister, Visenya's sword.

You had caught Daemon Targaryen. What better proof to show your father that you were not helpless? You tied him to a chair and gagged him for good measure. Then, you pushed him inside your bathing quarters. Only then did you call for a guard.

“Could you summon my father? I need him.” The guard bowed, but didn't speak. Most of them didn't. Your father said they weren't allowed to.

Despite not receiving an answer, you knew your father would be here soon. He always came when you called. You placed a kettle in the fire. Before it could boil, King Viserys was already there.

“Dear.” The King kissed your forehead. You tried not to wrinkle your nose at the smell of herbs and milk of the poppy. Your father always smelled like a medicine cabinet. “As beautiful as your mother, like always.”

You smiled.

“Father. Tea is not ready yet, but sit.” You pointed to your small parlor. When you were a child, the two of you had used to pretend you were a great lady, hosting tea parties there. It had been how he had taught you courtly manners.

The memory was bittersweet. Your father was good to you. He had raised you as best as he could, loving you more fiercely than any of his other children. It was not your intention to upset him, but you knew this topic would do exactly that.

“Were you lonely, my heart?” The King settled on one of the loveseats. You sat across from him.

“I did miss you.” You gave him a coy little look. “But I asked you to come for something else.”

“Do tell.”

“Father. I think I am ready to claim a dragon.” You rushed to say, almost tripping over your words. Already, you could see how his expression was clouding over, a storm raging behind his eyes.

“You know you are not.” The King answered, sternly. “It's too dangerous.”

“I can handle myself.” You fought for your tone to remain even. If it came out too angered, your father would say you were hysteric or having a tantrum, and refuse to take you seriously. So was the curse of being a woman.

“My heart, you have never stepped out of this tower.”

And you had not. But what did dragons care about one's knowledge of the world? You had read about dragons bonding with babes, sharing their cradle with them. To claim one, being well traveled or wise was not required. One had to be chosen, that was all.

You raised your hands in the air, palms up, as if placating a beast.

“I don't want you to get upset, Father. I wanted to prove to you that I am capable, too.” You got up and opened the door to your bathing quarters. “Do not be scared.”

The bound Daemon was still gagged, inside the tub. This time, though, he was awake. Upon seeing his brother, he immediately started screeching and squirming, making up a ruckus.

“Shh.” You said to him, kicking the tub a little. He was turning out to be a very annoying guest. “As you can see, Father, I caught him.”

“And you put him in the tub.” The King said, perplexed.

“He was dripping water all over my floors.” But your explanations fall on deaf ears, since your father has already moved on from his shock. He grabbed Daemon's shirt, forcing him to sit upright.

“Haven't I told you this tower is out of limits?” The King barked at him. “I will throw you into the deepest, more dark and humid dungeon I can find, and then I will…”

“Father.” You did not like being ignored. Daemon was a secondary concern, you just wanted to know if you were allowed out now.

Yet, your father seems to think the issue was an entirely different thing.

“Oh. Sorry, dear. What father meant is that Uncle Daemon has been very bad.” He gave him a shake for good measure.

“I can tell.” Your tone was flat. “Have I proven myself enough to be allowed to try to claim a dragon?”

The King let go of Daemon. He turned towards you and tenderly started checking you over for injuries.

“I would die if something happened to you.” He answered, evasive. You didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. It was too dangerous. It was a no.

Five more long days went by. Poor you, having to stay all day in your tower. After Daemon, your father had now deemed it too dangerous to allow you to roam the Red Keep. It was the tower and nothing more. All you could do was sing Old Valyrian songs and look out the windows. Sometimes, birds would chirp from above, and you would feel slightly better, as if they were singing with you.

Perhaps it had been your song, what had led him to you. Perhaps it had been his own guilty consciousness for a sin long forgotten, or a sliver of empathy for the lonely girl in the tower up above. Whatever it was, before the sixth day came to an end, Daemon appeared under your window.

“Princess, Princess, let your hair down.” You heard him say. You walked to your window, curiously. Daemon was back!

“Come down if you want to be free.” The Prince ordered. “I do not have much time.”

His words stilled you. Freedom. Your father often said freedom was a dangerous thing. If you let people make their own choices, it was much more likely that they would choose unwisely. That was why you were kept in the tower, safe from the world and bad decisions. As long as King Viserys controlled your life, you would be protected.

But what if you left? What if you ran, jumped out of your tower and made your way to Dragonstone to get your dragon? You imagined a version of yourself, dress fluttering in the wind like a flag as you ran, barefooted in the sand. You imagined yourself feeling the sun in your face, having your first cup of mead or watching a parade.

Then you imagined yourself tripping and falling into the sea. You didn't know how to swim. No one saw the need to teach you such a thing. You imagined yourself at the parade, getting robbed. You imagined a man, trying to hurt you. What if people out there, what if Daemon, were truly as wretched as your father said they were?

Your face must have shown your distress because Daemon, impatient, shouted something more.

“I won't hurt you.” The Prince raised his hands in surrender. “I will not tell you I am a good man, but I will take you to Dragonstone.”

His honesty was what sealed the deal. You threw your hair down, grabbed one of your warmest cloaks, and shouted for him to loop your hair around a branch and not let go.

Daemon obeyed. You jumped, and as your feet hit the floor, you wished to be able to say you didn't look back. But you did. And as you saw the silhouette of your tower getting smaller and smaller in the distance, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness deep in your chest.

Noticing how quiet you have gotten, Daemon adjusts your cloak and gives you a grin.

“Do you want to ride Caraxes?” He asks. You match his grin, sadness nearly forgotten. There is a whole world out here, begging to be explored. You can be sad later when the adventure ends.

Caraxes is the most bewitching creature you have ever seen. He is red and serpentine, looking so much like the drawings of dragons you used to do as a child. You nearly scream in excitement.

Daemon whispers to him to stay calm, but Caraxes seems to sense your happiness, for he keeps trying to correspond your loving pets.

“Oh, by the Seven Hells.” The Prince pushes you towards the saddle. “If neither of you stop the tail wagging, we are going to get caught.”

“And we don't want that.” You agree, kissing Caraxes' scales one last time.

Caraxes gives another excited, full-body wag. He seems to be preening under the attention. Daemon must not praise him very much, which is a shame.

“You are such a good boy. So pretty, too.”

Caraxes preens even more. It makes his body shake, tail hitting against the floor in an ominous beat. Daemon groans.

“Enough, enough.” The Prince grabs you by the waist and gets you up in the saddle. You shriek in laughter. Caraxes appears to be happy about it, too, since he starts spreading his wings. “We are going to get caught.”

Daemon jumps into the saddle, hugging you tightly to him. You squirm, unused to the closeness of another human being. When your father and Rhaenyra touch you, it's never like this.

Daemon feels overwhelming, in the best kind of way. His chest is firm, and his smell surrounds you. His arms around your waist hold you tight, but remain loose enough to not hurt you. Your hips fit snugly against his, and make something you can't yet name stir in your lower belly.

It's different. It's strange. You want it to stop. Why do you feel so nervous, as if Caraxes was suddenly dropping down and not barely getting ready to fly?

“Soves, Caraxes.” Daemon orders, careful not to scream in your ear. “Are you alright, little Princess?”

You cease your squirming, hoping that he doesn't notice whatever is different with you.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You keep squirming as if there were ants inside your bodice. Are you uncomfortable?” The Prince snickers by your ear, pressing a soft kiss right by the top of it. What happens next is impossible to hide. Your body gives a shiver, all of your hairs standing up. The sensation is as confusing as it is pleasant.

“My stomach feels funny.” You complain, knowing that it isn't exactly that, but close enough that he probably won't question it.

“Funny how?” Daemon kisses behind your ear. You make a hurt, confused noise. You have been kissed before, but never there. In your experience, kisses are not this devastating.

“Funny.” You refuse to elaborate because while naive, you are not dumb. This must be precisely why your father wanted you away from men. If they were able to inflict so much pleasure, it was no wonder why maidens let them do whatever they wanted to them.

“Does it hurt, little Princess?” One of his palms goes to your lower stomach, pressing slightly. “Here?”

You squirm. So he definitely knows.

“Yes.”

“Hurts? Or…?” Daemon's hand goes dangerously low, nearly pressing between the parting of your legs. You squirm more. He brushes something that makes you jolt, delighted.

“We shouldn't.” You answer. It would be much more convincing if you were not relaxing into him. He laughs right in your ear, but retracts his hand.

Even with his hands away from your most sensitive areas, you still feel worked up. Your bodice is too rough against your skin, the way Caraxes moves under both of you makes the area between your legs tingle.

You keep your eyes firmly on the sky in front of you. As it starts to change into pinks and yellows, the feeling ebbs and starts to fade. You feel sleepy, so you recline more against Daemon. A tiny yawn escapes you.

“Tired?” Daemon brushes your hair back, much more tenderly than your father would. With your father, the touch is always harsher, more possessive. As if he is always grasping to the last threads of Aemma he can hold. With Daemon, it feels like he is actually touching you.

You hum, soft and sweet.

“Sleep, little one.” He kisses your cheek. “I'll wake you up when we get there.”

The next time you wake up, it is in an unknown bedroom. At first, you panic. The canopy over the bed looks too similar to the one in your tower, and you wonder if perhaps you dreamed it all. Daemon, Caraxes, the flight, your feelings. Then, you get even more scared because the more you look, the more you realize this is not your room.

You get out of bed. You are still dressed in the same dress you were wearing earlier, but your shoes are gone. The door is closed. Fear grips at you. What if Daemon has sold you to someone evil and rotten, as your father says people outside the Red Keep are? What if he is the evil man?

You rush to the door. It opens easily. There is a hallway that looks much like the ones in the Red Keep, but there is no one there. You scream in fear.

Another of the doors opens in the hallway. Daemon, in a sleeping shirt and breeches, runs out.

“Princess!” He hurries to your side. You are crying, you realize, as he wipes away some of your tears. “What is it?”

“I woke up alone, and I didn't recognize…” You sob, softly.

“Oh, little girl.” Daemon scoops you in his arms. “I should have thought of that. I am so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you look at him, eyes swollen from your crying.

The world had impressed you during the day, but now that the night had fallen, and you found yourself in an unknown castle, you were afraid. What if there were monsters lurking in the hallways? Or if you needed something? What if someone hurt you?

“I do not want to go back there. I am scared.” You rubbed your eyes. Your hands dug into his arm, not wanting to let go of him.

“Do you wish me to keep you company while you fall back asleep?” Daemon asked, gently smoothing your hair down. You must look a mess, and would find it embarrassing were it not for the fact that being alone in such a big place terrifies you. At this point, you would do anything to keep him here.

“Please.” No more words are needed. Daemon doesn't want you to beg, nor does he want anything in exchange. It's comforting.

One of his hands goes to your shoulder blades, leading you back to the room. Daemon tucks you in and sits by your side.

“I'll stay until you fall asleep.” He says, smoothing down your frown with the gentlest touch. Daemon starts to hum in High Valyrian, softly. You know the melody. It's about flames and burning together. Almost against your will, your eyelids start to drop.

“Don't… Don't want you to go.” Your body feels so heavy, as if sinking into the mattress. With great effort, you manage to curl your fingers around one of his.

“Oh, Princess.” He says, interlacing your hands.

“Stay.” You order.

Daemon lets go of your hand, and you whine, awake instantly. You go to sit up, but he shushes you.

“Shh. I am just… Let me.” He slides under the covers, behind you. You close your eyes, trying to relax against him. It's no hardship at all. Now that the candles have been blown, the light is low and Daemon feels so warm against you.

He starts to trace your features. Finger meets brow, temple, cheek. Thumb brushes nose, then lips. Idly, so very idly, his voice mutters near your ear.

“How many mouths has yours kissed?”

The question startles you. You suppose there is no harm in telling him, yet there is a tinge of embarrassment over it, too. It has finally dawned on you what this new, uncomfortable, thrilling feeling is. Desire. You lust after Daemon.

“I have…” You answer, softly. You do not dare speak it out loud. Not when you rather know exactly how far the two of you are. “How about you?”

“I have lost count. Twenty, perhaps more so.” Daemon says it so casually, as if it did not matter at all. But to you, it does. What are you, compared to this man? How could you want him in such a manner, having so little to offer?

“What makes it special, then?” There has to be a reason for him to bother with kissing all these people. Perhaps, to him, all kisses feel as devastating as his does to you.

“The person, I would gather.” The Prince answers, softly rubbing your back as one would do to help a child fall asleep. You frown. It does make sense. You know what love is, after all. Being in love with someone, or at least desiring them, must make it special.

You would like to kiss him, you think. Daemon is handsome, and his touch does not feel as damning as other's do. He has already provided you with pleasure, even if unknowingly.

You make a wish, then. For your first kiss to be special, with someone you like and that knows what they are doing. If not Daemon, at least someone like that.

“Was your first special?” You ask, curious.

“No. She was terrible. Sharp teeth and all.” Daemon moves your hair aside, exposing your neck. You barely get any warning before he is taking a bite out of your nape. For a playful gesture, it's oddly painful. Your body tenses, and you try to fight it, but Daemon's hands are like a vice around your waist. “Like this.”

With no other choice, you ride it out. Pain is nearly unfamiliar to you, beyond small cuts or painful cycles. It's scorching red and hot, making you break into a sweat. Daemon forces you to take, and take, gently holding your hands in his. It's only after that you go limp under him, twitching slightly, that he lets up.

The aftermath of pain is sweet, you learn. Daemon kisses around the painful bite and blows a raspberry behind your ear. Now that he has let go of your nape, you find out that the pain was not so bad. You are not even bleeding.

“You are such a good girl.” Daemon praises. “So strong. I'm so proud of you.”

You preen as if you were Caraxes, delighted to make him feel proud of you. Daemon smiles against your temple, as if amused by you, and presses a little kiss there. It’s so tender, and so loving, a sharp contrast to his earlier behavior. It makes you feel as if you were once again on dragonback.

“Could you kiss me?” The words escape out of your mouth, without any real thinking. You know they are the wrong thing to say as soon as they leave your mouth.

Daemon pulls away from you. A hurt, confused noise leaves your throat, hands desperately searching back for his warmth.

“Oh, little Princess.” Daemon mutters, tone full of regrets. “I should not.”

“Why not?” You complain. You are not used to being denied so. The only times others do not bend to your will, you get what you want by your own means. Case in point, leaving your tower. Your father had said no, so you had ensured it happened by other means.

“I have done…. What I have done to you, why I took you…” Suddenly, it is as if an icy hand has taken hold of your throat and started to suffocate you. Betrayal settles over your features, overpowering it all.

“You are only doing this to piss off my father.” You say, shocked. Daemon raises his hands, trying to interrupt you, but you halt him with an imperious wave. “You had no intention of taking me to the dragons. You sought to ruin my reputation, as you did Rhaenyra's.”

“No, Princess, no.” Daemon shakes his head. You get up from the bed, angered. He does not try to stop you. “I swear I didn't mean for anything untoward to happen.”

“I bet you said that back then, too.” You retort. You have half a mind to do something crazy. To grab the fire poker and smash his head with it, to set the whole place on fire. You want to make him hurt.

“I… I did mean to anger your father.” Daemon admits, still trying to placate you. It only makes you wish to scream and scream and never stop. “But I do think it is a shame not to let you even try. Dragons are your birthright. Denying you is unnatural.”

You glare at him. You are unconvinced of the truthfulness of his words. Your father was right. You were unprepared for the world, and it couldn't show more. Daemon has tricked you as easily as if he were taking candy from a babe.

“I'll take you there regardless. I promised to.” His eyes are pleading, but you do not wish to hear him, or see him any longer. Instead, you sit in front of the vanity and look at yourself.

The long, silver hair. The scared eyes. The night, the first you have of freedom, is spent utterly cold and miserable. You stare at yourself and stare at yourself until you think you are going mad.

Daemon does not say a word. He doesn't leave the room, either. Perhaps he falls asleep at some point, perhaps he does not.

You look at your reflection again. You look at your hair. Silver, like his. The lovely color Daemon loves so much. Long, and braided back, flaunting your maidenhood and youth. Forever your father's little girl, never allowed to grow, to love, to lust.

A braid that long won't allow you to claim a dragon. You are more likely to set yourself on fire or trip on it. It's that thought that gives you the determination needed to do what needs to be done.

In the first drawer of the vanity there are a few miscellaneous ribbons. There is also a pair of scissors. You grab it, and grab your braid. You chop it off. As it falls from your shoulder, you feel a weight lift off from you. No longer your nape is heavy with the weight of all these expectations laying on you.

There is a woman staring at you, from the mirror. She looks like she is getting ready for war, eyes alight with determination. You stare at the contours of her face, mesmerized by what you see. All traces of Aemmas's ghost are gone from your reflection. You look more like yourself than you have ever done.

Daemon is up at sunrise. He may have been watching you chop all your hair off and expose the lovely bite mark that now mars the skin of your nape. He may have been sleeping. Whatever it is, he doesn't say a word about your change of appearance, choosing instead to dress in silence.

“Off we go.” He says, briskly, leading you out of the castle. Daemon points to a hill in the distance. “But after that, you are on your own.”

You are suddenly filled with doubt, the determination you had felt when looking in the mirror dissipating under the morning light. Your stomach clenches. Your legs are sore, unused to the exercise of riding. The bite on your neck burns.

"I do not feel ready to claim a dragon.” You say to him, as you get closer and closer to the hill. You feel like a fool. What if your father is right? What if you end this escapade with nothing to show but a ruined reputation?

“You are.” Daemon answers, barely paying attention. It makes you angry beyond belief. To make your mood known, you stomp over a few leaves, grinding them to dust under your heel. Ugh. Why were you looking to him for reassurance in the first place? It was not like Daemon wanted to help you. He just wanted to make himself feel less guilty over trying to cause a scandal and kill your father from the fright.

“I am not.” It’s almost as if you can hear the voice of your father in your head, telling you exactly why no dragon would bond with you. You are a fool, you are a little girl, you…

“You are a Targaryen.” Daemon interrupts your trail of thought with a squeeze to your nape. Right over the bite. It makes your knees nearly buckle. “You were born ready.”

“But what if it isn't enough? What if they see me, and don't want me? I am not brave, like Rhaenyra, or cunning like you or learned like my father. ”

“They will.” Daemon says. “Because you are strong here.” He taps your sternum. “And your father is a fool for not seeing it.”

You look at him. Past the guilt, past the acting up to get your father's attention. His eyes are nervous, but they hold the same steely determination yours had earlier. Daemon believes in you, you realize. You look up at the hill and think to yourself, it is time to see if you can claim a second dragon.

[springtyme]

🪐 Hi Sagie! I looove your baby fever fics with 141 and könig! I you have any hcs for them, like will they have more babies in the future? (I’m especially in love with the soap ones, you made the family scenario feel so real❤️)

I’m so happy to hear that you like those fics, they are some of my favourites I’ve written, and I’m especially happy to hear that you like the johnny one, cause I have actually thought about writing some for that specific version of him because I liked writing them so much. These are just some quick, random thoughts about how I think the future could look like for the guys and reader in the different scenarios. I might change it if I decide to write more about them in the future, though. But I had so much fun writing this, so thank you so much for the ask, dear anon! ♡

The fics this is based on: part one & part two

Ghost ♡

I don’t actually think that you and Simon will have more children after your daughter. She wasn’t planned, but she is so loved and cherished by both of you, and he is so extremely happy and grateful that it happened, being a family was something Simon never thought he would be allowed to experience, and he had always secretly wished for it, but he also has a lot of insecurities and anxieties about being a father. He wants to give your little girl all that he never had growing up. You and your daughter are absolutely everything to him, and the two of you have filled the hole that had been gnawing at his heart for so, so long. He doesn’t need more, he is complete now. One kid, one fur baby, and having found the love of his life is all he needs to be happy and content. I also think that he is also very aware about how demanding his job is and the fact that he often is gone and has to leave for weeks at a time, leaving you back home alone so only having one kid to look after when he is not there to help,  makes things more manageable for you and I think that is something he would value highly, not wanting to leave you overwhelmed and stretched thin. And he is so, so grateful for you and all that you do for your family.

Price ♡

Again, I don’t think you and John are going to have more kids, just like Simon he is very aware of the demands of his job, despite the decision of retiring from fieldwork after you had your son, he is still often away on base and works long hours, plus he also isn’t as young as he has been anymore. He values the time he gets to spend with you and your son, and he loves the family dynamic you all have. He loves being present and active in your son’s life, and he wants to make sure he can give him all the love and attention he deserves. You and John have built a beautiful life together, and he is so grateful for everything you’ve given him, and he makes sure you’re always taking care of. John values quality time with you and your boy extremely highly, he never misses a single football game, school event, or milestone, and he cherishes every moment he gets to spend with the two of you.   

Gaz ♡

So, you and Kyle will stay in your flat for the first three years of your son’s life until you move to something bigger, after finding out that you are expecting your second child. It is a lovely, little semi-detached house, with garden to three sides and here you welcome your second baby, a little girl this time. Kyle is absolutely over the moon with the idea of expanding your little family, and he can’t wait to give your son a sister to look out for. Kyle absolutely loves being a father and is so grateful for the life you have built together. He is so excited for this next chapter in your lives, it is something he has been excited for almost since he first met you. Kyle is a very hands-on dad, always eager to help out with the kids and make sure you have some time for yourself and he makes a big deal out of having quality time with both kids and making sure they both feel loved and cherished. He is so proud and grateful for the family you have created together. 

 Soap ♡

Okay, it all started out with a comment about how you and Johnny had to balance out all the boys in his family and you did. Johnny becomes the ultimate girl dad. You end up with three girls who are around three years apart from each other. He loves being surrounded by his girls and is so grateful for the special bond he has with each of them. He is always there to support and protect them, and he cherishes every moment he gets to spend with them. His family absolutely adores you all, and he is so thankful for the love and happiness you have brought into his life. (Your oldest daughter’s middle name is Teresa after Johnny’s mother, but when you had your second girl there was no doubt between you and Johnny about what hers was going to be; Maighread.) 

König ♡

So, I kind of see two scenarios for this one. 

The pregnancy with the twins was pretty hard on poor mama, having to carry an absolute unit of a man's children and all, so I could kind of see you not having more after that. It was always your plan to have 2-3 kids, so when the twins turned out to be a boy and a girl it kind of just seemed perfect and complete with a family of four. 

But I could also see the twins being two boys though. Two chunky, happy babies who turn into a pair of cheeky, energetic toddlers, running around together, causing chaos and laughter wherever they go. And even though they are fraternal, they look a lot alike, both a spitting image of their father, despite having inherited your eyes, but their faces are still all König, from the way they scrunch their nose to the dimples on their cheeks when they smile. They are a handful and keep you on your toes, but they are also the sweetest and most loving little boys. It is a few months before the boy’s seventh birthday when you and König start to think about maybe expanding your family again. And it’s only a few weeks after their birthday that you find out that you are pregnant again. The pregnancy is much easier this time around, König still creating a chunk of a kid, but this time you’re only having one. And this time it is a little girl who instantly steals the hearts of her father and big brothers. The twins dote on her, constantly showering her with love and attention, always looking out for her and making sure she is safe. And König is absolutely wrapped around her tiny finger, and truly a sight for sore eyes to see the giant man doting over his little princess.    

[paradiseismine]

Late Night Talking - Trevor Spengler x Reader

Love note from Nina: Aaaand I’m back again with some more Finnie cuteness and filth, lovelies. My boy Trevor is way too underrated around here, so it’s about damn time we turn those tables.

Pairing: Trevor Spengler (Ghostbusters Afterlife/Frozen Empire) x f!reader

Warnings: mostly smut, but also some fluff. Also maybe this is kinda long (?) sorry not sorry etc

Summary: you visit the Spengler’s residence for a dinner party and end up having a lot more fun than you intended, if you know what I mean

Edit: part 2 here

Your mom and Mrs. Spengler had become best friends, all of a sudden - neither of them had had much luck on that when they moved to the city, but ever since they first met in a 7/11 a month ago, they were inseparable.

It was a Saturday evening, and your mom was dragging you along to Mrs. Spengler’s house, for a dinner party of some sort. You weren’t in the mood, but she seemed so happy to finally have a new friend, you just couldn’t say “no” to her.

So, all dressed up in a cute black dress and strap sandals, you rang the doorbell.

- Oh, hello - a tall lanky boy with messy black hair opened the door. - Good evening, Mrs. y/l/n… And you must be y/n, right?

You nodded, smiling sweetly, as your mom greeted the boy as well.

- Hi, Trevor! Your mom told me all about you - she said, giving him a warm hug after she handed you the huge cake tray she was holding.

It was pretty heavy - your mom wouldn’t show up to dine at someone’s house without bringing dessert - but you could manage to hold it.

- Callie, there you are! - she squealed as she hurried to meet Mrs. Spengler in the kitchen, leaving you and Trevor behind.

- She loves your mom - you said to Trevor, chuckling.

- My mom loves yours too - he chuckled. - Hey, can I help you with that? - he continued, gently taking the cake tray off of your hands.

- Thank you Trev, that was quite heavy - you said, relieved. - Should we bring that to the kitchen?

So you both put the cake in the fridge and helped your moms with everything - from setting the table to organizing the kitchen.

You had a great time eating and talking to Callie, Trevor and his sister, Phoebe. After dinner was over, the moms opened up a bottle of wine and sat on the living room to talk, while Phoebe went to her room to sleep.

That left you and Trevor alone in the kitchen, talking. It was already close to midnight, and by the laughs you could hear from the couch, you were not going to leave the Spengler’s home for a long time. Halloween was just around the corner, so you asked Trevor if he was into horror movies.

- Hm, kind of… - he responded, finishing his glass of soda. - I think they’re way too unrealistic sometimes.

- Ugh, wish I felt like that too… Movies like Poltergeist and The Conjuring totally freak me out. I’m just afraid of ghosts, I guess.

Trevor nearly choked, but you couldn’t understand why.

- Do you like slasher movies though? - he asked, trying to move on with the conversation.

- Yeah, I love them! - you answered, excitedly. - My favorite one is Friday The 13th!

- The first one?

- The best one, right?

- Absolutely - he laughed, then pointing to your moms in the living room - I think they’re gonna take a while there… Wanna go upstairs and watch a movie? It can be Friday the 13th if you want.

- Of course, I’d love that! - you said and walked over to the living room with him.

- Mom, Trevor and I are going upstairs to watch a movie, ok?

- Sure darlings, go there and befriend! - your mom agreed, her voice sounding a bit different already. Good thing you were driving.

You two went up the stairs to Trevor’s room, still talking about horror movies and your personal favorites; but you noticed he would talk just as excitedly about any subject. The conversation was light and comfortable. Trevor was so nice to talk to. He was also really good looking. Something about his lanky figure, dark hair and dark eyes really stood out to you.

Up in his room, you couldn’t help but walk around and notice the various objects he had in there.

- Whoa, do you like Arctic Monkeys?

- Their “AM” album is, like, most of my will to live. - he chuckled. - So yeah, I like them a bit.

- That’s an instant classic if I’ve ever seen one, right?

Turns out, you and Trev had A LOT in common. You were into the same movies, the same music and even the same places to hang out. He was working up the courage to ask you on a date already.

- So, uh… y/n, would you… would you like to go to that record store downtown with me… Sometime? It doesn’t have to be like a date or-

You put your index finger to his lips, and his eyes went wide.

- But can it be a date, though? - you whispered, your finger leaving his lips as you put your hand on his cheek.

- S-sure - he stuttered. He was much taller than you, even with the heels you were wearing.

- I would love to - you smiled, your hand still on his cheek. - I could talk with you all night if you’d let me.

- Me too - he smiled, putting his arm around your waist and leaning in a bit. - Y/n… can I-can I kiss you? Or does asking that totally ruin the mood?

- Of course you can! - you laughed. - C’mere.

You leaned in and your lips touched his, lightly. You touched your forehead to his and looked him in the eyes. He pulled you even closer by your waist and kissed you again, way more eagerly this time. His tongue asked for entrance and you permitted it, in pure ecstasy.

- Hm - he broke the kiss - maybe we could move this over there? - he said, his head pointing to an armchair on the corner of his room. You nodded, your lips parted and swollen from the kiss.

Trevor sat down on the armchair and you sat nearly on his lap, but sideways, so your butt was down on the armchair and your legs were all over his lap.

He put his hands on your bare knees and caressed them gently as you continued to kiss, more slowly than before. Your dress was a few inches above your knees. Nothing too modest or too slutty, but Trevor secretly wished you were wearing the sluttiest dress possible, just so he could feel you up without actually lifting up your dress and risking getting slapped across the face.

Little did he know you were craving that touch. You lightly guided his hands a bit further up your thighs, giving him the permission he wanted. To touch your soft skin and get intoxicated by you.

You kept kissing him passionately, your hands wandering from his cheek to his neck to his chest. You grabbed the collar of his T-shirt and pulled him even closer, wanting to savor him as much as you could. He let out a soft moan on your lips, so discreet you wouldn’t be able to hear it if you two weren’t all the way upstairs in his room.

Things were getting hot and heavy pretty quickly, but isn’t it always like that when you’re young? His hands were gently caressing your upper thighs for a minute, as if he was mentally debating a way to ask you to take off your dress, but gave up on that idea.

His slender fingers gently slid your panties to the side, only to meet your soaking wet pussy. You hissed and moaned in his mouth as he kissed you hungrily while slowly playing with your clit. His touch was so light, it made you ache for more; but at the same time, it was perfect. He continued for a couple minutes, your moans in his ear increasing. That had to be Trevor’s new favorite sound.

- Trev - you called, your voice faint and breathy. He looked into your eyes. His gaze was dark and full of lust. His swollen red lips were slightly parted, ugh, he was so beautiful… - If you keep going, I-I…

But you couldn’t finish that sentence. Your back arched and your mouth cracked open, your body completely taken by that orgasm. Your eyes were closed for most of the time, squeezed in pleasure, but when you peeked through them to look at Trevor’s face, he was grinning like the devil. He got you good and he knew he did.

- You’re so pretty - he said, mesmerized, his fingers still touching your pussy until you closed your legs and he realized you had ridden out of your orgasm. - and you look even prettier when you cum.

You sat there in his lap for a moment, head on his shoulder, resting a little from such an intense sensation. Trevor had quite a cocky smile plastered on his face, seeming proud of himself for making a pretty girl cum. For getting the chance to make a pretty girl cum and succeeding.

- Alright, so not only you’re all tall and handsome and stuff, but you also got magic hands? - you said, your hair ruffled and your voice breathy.

- Magic hands? Really? - he laughed.

- I’m serious. - you said, laughing with him. - But now I feel the need to… reciprocate, you know?

Trevor’s breathing quickened. You sat on his lap properly now, one leg to each side of his waist, straddling him while cupping his face for another round of passionate kissing.

His kisses found their way down to your neck, gently nipping on your skin, making you shiver and squirm. His fingers started toying with your dress’ straps until he felt confident enough to pull them down slowly.

The black lacy bra you were wearing underneath was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but the sight of your breasts is what made his mouth water. With your dress already down to your waist, he put his arms around you to try and unhook your bra. As boys normally do, it took him a few tries, but he finally got it off of your body, his hands quickly covering your breasts again, fondling them.

Your skin was so soft and smelled so good, his kisses returned to your neck and continued their way down to your chest. Your nipples were so hard already, he simply had to take them in his mouth. One at a time, he licked and sucked gently, earning some pretty urgent moans. You knew you had to keep the volume down so your mothers wouldn’t hear you two, but that couldn’t stop you from moaning softly, just enough for him to hear. Your body was a feast and he had never been this hungry in his whole life.

- I-I thought it was my turn, Trevor - you said, softly, his lips still kissing the skin around your nipples and his hands groping your waist firmly. Damn, this boy was definitely going to drive you crazy.

Kissing his lips once again, you reached for the hem of his T-shirt and slowly pulled it upwards. He helped you take his shirt off, and his bare chest was surely a sight to be seen. Back to the kissing, your hands now wandered from his cheek, to his neck, to his chest, to his belly and…

- A-are you sure? - he asked, as you were about to touch his belt to unbuckle it. He didn’t want to pressure you into anything.

- I am pretty sure - you said with a smile, playfully kissing his nose. - Can I?

He nodded eagerly, so you unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled them down. Trevor just sat still and watched as your beautifully manicured nails were touching his belt, then his pants, then his underwear.

You knelt down in front of him, using a pillow under your knees for comfort, and pulled his body closer to the edge of the armchair. You kissed his lips one last time, then his neck, scratching his chest lightly with your long nails, causing him to moan and bite his lips to avoid making too much noise.

You kissed down his chest, your nails now scratching his waist, and finally got to his underwear.

- Can I pull these down too? - you said, your big eyes pleading.

- Yeah - he said, barely breathing. - Please.

You gave him a naughty smile and pulled down his boxers. It was impossible not to lick your lips at the sight of that cock. The perfect length, the perfect girth, and that perfect pinky tip begging to be sucked. So you did it.

You took Trevor into your mouth hungrily, as your mouth was already watering just by taking his underwear off. Your head was bobbing up and down his thick shaft, as he tried his best to hold back any louder moans.

Suddenly, he grabbed some of your hair in his right hand and pulled your mouth off of his dick gently.

- Did I hurt you? - you said, looking worried.

- No, no, princess - he answered, scared that he might’ve offended you. - It’s just… you’re so so good… and so pretty… I’m afraid I won’t last, you know?

- It’s ok babe - you reassured him, caressing his bare knee. - You pleasured me selflessly, and I’m doing the same. If you want to cum now, then do it. I’d love to get a taste…

Your mouth went right back to sucking on his dick, your both hands now also added into the mixture. After a minute or two, it was too much for him to take.

- Y/n - he called, softly. You looked him in the eyes, mouth still around his shaft. You knew what was going to happen next. - I just… Please, can I cum in your mouth?

- Mhm - you agreed, not slowing down or stopping anything you were doing.

Trevor let out a muffled groan as he came in your mouth. You swallowed his warm seed at once, gently licking his tip clean afterwards.

- Fuck, you’re a goddess - he said, his voice faint, his eyes rolling.

You laughed a little and wiped the corners of your mouth.

- And you’re a darling. I’m glad you could trust me.

- Y/n - your mom called out from downstairs. - Is the movie over already? I think we should get going…

- In a minute, mom - you yelled in response.

You turned back to Trevor as he handed you your bra and put his own shirt back on.

- I had a great time with you today, Trev. Hope we can hang out sometime.

- Of course, I’ll text you - he started - there are already so many places I thought we could go together… You might just be the best company for basically everything. Specially late night talking.

You grabbed his phone off his desk, typed in your number and handed him the phone. Realizing what you just did, he smiled and held out his hand so you would give him your phone and let him do the same.

After the exchange of phone numbers and a quick good night kiss, you two got downstairs and pretended nothing had happened.

- There you are - Callie said as she saw both of you. - What did you guys watch?

- Friday the 13th - Trevor lied for both of you. - It was her favorite horror movie, and one of my favorites too.

- Aw, how cute. I’m glad you guys are friends now - your mom said, grabbing her purse. - But those old slashers have some awkward sex scenes, don’t they? We heard their moaning from down here.

- Glad they make movies more gory and less sexually charged nowadays, right? - Callie agreed.

Your moms were drunk and probably wouldn’t remember much about tonight. Thankfully, ‘cause your face and Trevor’s got just as flushed as if you had spent the entire night sipping wine.

[lokiandbuckysdoll]

Waited Too Long

Pairings: Bucky x Plus-sized!Reader, Thor x Plus-sized!Reader.

Summary: You were Steve's younger sister who had a crush on his best friend, Bucky Barnes. One night, overhearing how Bucky talked about you changes your feelings toward him. 

Warnings: Angst, unrequited love/one-sided, mention of insecurity regarding weight, self-image issues, jerk bucky.

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: Please do not hesitate to reach out if I did not properly tag a warning! Proofread by the lovely @vbecker10 Divider by @firefly-graphics

You and Steve had always been close. It was clear that Steve took his role as your big brother seriously. This protective streak became especially pronounced when it came to matters of dating and boys. You, with your radiant smile and warm personality, had always been a magnet for attention. But for Steve, it wasn’t just about who you dated; it was about ensuring you were treated with the respect and care you deserved. His protective nature was rooted in both love and a sense of responsibility. 

From a young age, Steve noticed that you were different from your peers. While you were outgoing and kind-hearted, you faced challenges that Steve often wished he could shield you from. He saw how the societal standards of beauty affected you, and he knew that you struggled with self-image. 

One afternoon, while the two of you were sitting in the living room, you confided in Steve about a boy you liked but were unsure if he would like you due to your size. Steve listened intently, his heart aching for you

“You know, Y/N,” Steve said gently, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “you’re amazing just the way you are. Anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time." You smiled weakly, but Steve could tell that the insecurities were still very much present. 

You, though, harbored a secret of your own. The boy you told Steve about was no other than Steve's best friend, Bucky Barnes. 

Bucky was everything you had ever wanted—kind, funny, and impossibly handsome. You were genuinely not sure if Bucky ever noticed you in the way you wished he would. The turning point of your thoughts came one night when you were unable to sleep. You decided to go to the kitchen to get something to drink. 

As you crept down the hall you overheard a conversation between Steve and Bucky. You clung to the wall, trying to make out the words. Steve leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing with a knowing look as he stared at Bucky across the table. "You know, Buck," Steve began with a teasing grin, "I've seen the way you look at Y/N. It's pretty obvious you’ve got feelings for her." Bucky caught off guard, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Come on, Steve, it’s not like that," he protested, trying to sound nonchalant. "She's just... she's a good person, but there's no way I could date her. She's just not my type". 

Steve raised an eyebrow at that "What do you mean not your type?" he questioned hoping Bucky wouldn't say what he was thinking. Bucky swallowed before speaking "Well you know... Her size… I don't think it would work out." 

Your heart sank once you heard those words leaving his mouth. You felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You had always been self-conscious about your weight, but hearing Bucky dismiss you so coldly stung more than you could have imagined. You turned around to leave unable to hear any more ill things he would say. 

Steve’s voice was low, but there was a note of anger in it. "Bucky, that's not cool.  I don't want to hear any comments about her weight, or anything like that coming from you." Bucky's response was dismissive. "I know, man, but it’s just how I feel. It’s not going to change anything between us." Bucky met Steve’s earnest eyes, a flicker of understanding passing over his face. 

The next day you withdrew into yourself. You avoided Bucky and although you tried to maintain your usual cheerfulness, it was clear something was wrong. Steve noticed the change but respected your space. Over time as high school progressed, Steve began to notice subtle changes in your dynamic with Bucky's presence around you. 

At school, Steve saw you avoiding the places where Bucky used to be, not out of hostility, but more out of a desire to keep your distance. Bucky, on the other hand, appeared to be entangled in his own world, he was drifting away from the tight-knit circle they had once been. Steve couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but the change was noticeable. T

here was a growing depth that seemed to widen with each passing week—a silent testament to an unspoken tension that neither side fully addressed. Steve couldn't help but wonder about the reasons behind this gradual estrangement, feeling a mix of concern and confusion as the familiar rhythm of their friendships began to falter. 

Before they knew it, Steve's high school graduation was already approaching. Your parents had decided to through a party. The house buzzed with the lively chatter of guests celebrating Steve's graduation, but your excitement turned to discomfort when you overheard a conversation in a quieter corner of the room. You found Steve’s girlfriend, Sharon and Dolores, huddled together their voices low but unmistakably critical.

They were discussing your weight with a snide undertone, their words sharp and dismissive. Your heart sank and just as you were about to retreat, Bucky walked in, oblivious to your presence. With a casual smirk, he made a misguided attempt at humor, saying, "Well, Y/N always had a bit of a sweet tooth, hasn’t she?" 

The comment, meant to be light-hearted, only compounded the sting of the conversation you had just overheard. The room seemed to close in around you, the joy of the evening overshadowed by the weight of the unkind remarks and Bucky’s insensitive jest.

Once Steve graduated the two of you drifted into separate lives. You went on to finish your senior year and stayed closer to home after your graduation. While Steve ended up moving to a city a few hours away for college; You kept in touch but saw each other rarely.

One summer, Steve invited you to his apartment for a weekend. It had been a while since you had spent time together, and you were excited to catch up. When you arrived, you were surprised to see Bucky there, too. He seemed different—more mature, with a depth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. You hesitated at the doorway, unsure whether to approach or retreat, feeling the weight of unresolved feelings hang like a silent barrier.

You and Bucky found yourselves alone in a quieter corner of the room, a rare chance to catch up amidst the graduation festivities. 

“So, what have you been up to, James? " you asked, trying to keep the conversation light despite the lingering awkwardness. Bucky cleared his throat, shaking off the unease. “Not much, just working and trying to stay busy. It’s been a hectic year. How about you?”

You smiled, eyes lighting up. “I’ve been focused on my studies and trying to balance everything. It’s been challenging but rewarding. I’m thinking about grad school now.” Bucky nodded, genuinely impressed. “Wow, that’s great. You’ve grown up since I last saw you. I mean, you’re—” His gaze drifted momentarily, involuntarily wandering over your now curvier figure and the way your dress accentuated your form. 

His eyes linger down to the slight cleavage.  It took him a second to realize he was staring before he caught himself and quickly looked away, feeling a flush creep up his neck. The two of you spent a little bit more time together, talking. Bucky was attentive and considerate, for the first time, you felt like your old self.

As the summer wore on, you visited Steve more frequently and Bucky’s feelings deepened. He found himself falling for you in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He couldn't deny you were beautiful, not just in appearance but in spirit. The realization hit him hard—he had been wrong all those years ago.

Determined to make things right, Bucky planned to confess his feelings to you before summer ended. Steve had invited Bucky to come back to their hometown to celebrate your birthday. Bucky spent a week getting a perfect gift to rekindle your friendship, it was also the perfect time to confess his feelings. 

Steve and Bucky arrived at your birthday party, the atmosphere was lively and festive, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Bucky’s gaze was drawn immediately to you, who stood near the center of the room, effortlessly captivating in a light lavender dress that complemented every curve. The soft fabric flowed gracefully around you and the gentle hue highlighted your radiant complexion. 

Bucky was momentarily speechless, his usual confidence faltering as he took in the sight of you. You looked stunning, your beauty was more striking than he had remembered. Steve noticed Bucky’s reaction and gave him a knowing smile but Bucky was too mesmerized to register much beyond the striking image of you in the dress.

As time passed and you made your rounds around the party, you spotted Bucky alone in the corner. You decided to approach him. "Hey, thanks for coming" You smiled at him and he would  swear it was the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. " Of course, I wasn't going to miss your birthday and I had to bring you this." Bucky’s eyes drifted nervously to the elegant package he held. “I hope you like it,” He offered a warm smile. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to get you something special.”

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang, and your face brightened with anticipation. “Oh, that must be someone else arriving,” you said, excusing yourself from the conversation. Bucky watched as you hurried to the door.

When you opened it, your face lit up with pure joy as you greeted your boyfriend, Thor. You threw your arms around him and he lifted you off your feet in a warm embrace, planting a kiss on your soft lips. The sight was both unexpected and stunning. Bucky and Steve stood frozen, their mouths slightly agape, completely taken aback by the reveal of your relationship with Thor. The room seemed to pause for a moment, the air thick with surprise as Bucky tried to process the scene before him.

After your warm reunion with Thor, you turned and walked back toward Bucky and Steve, your hand intertwined with Thor's. You introduced him with a radiant smile. "Guys, this is Thor. Thor, meet my brother Steve and his best friend Bucky."

Steve, though clearly surprised by the revelation, extended his hand with a friendly grin. "Nice to meet you, Thor. Welcome to the party." Thor shook Steve's hand firmly, his own smile wide and welcoming. "Thank you, Steve. It's great to finally meet you."

Bucky, on the other hand, stood a little further back, his expression a mix of disbelief and confusion. He managed a stiff nod, still processing the shock of seeing you with someone as imposing as Thor. “Hey,” he said, his voice lacking its usual warmth. He extended a hand but his grip was less firm as if he was still trying to reconcile the image of Thor with the reality of their situation. 

Thor, noticing Bucky’s discomfort, tried to bridge the gap with his charismatic charm. “I’ve heard a lot about you two. Y/N has spoken very highly of both of you.” Despite the effort, Bucky remained visibly unsettled, his gaze shifting between you and Thor, trying to come to terms with this unexpected twist in the evening’s events.

You stayed with Thor for a little bit longer before leaving his side to make your rounds again. It was during this time that you were alone in the kitchen getting things ready for the birthday cake that Bucky found you. 

Bucky looked at you, struggling to find the right words. “Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you,” he began. You cut him off with a sad smile. “I know, Bucky.  I don't feel the same feelings for you anymore. I also overheard that conversation years ago.”

Bucky’s face fell. “You heard that?” You nodded. “I did. And it hurt, more than you can know.”

Bucky swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was an idiot. I’ve realized how wrong I was, and I want to make things right.”

You shook your head. “It’s too late for that now, Bucky. I’m with Thor and I’m happy. But thank you for saying something.”

The silence between them was heavy, filled with unspoken regrets and what-ifs. Bucky wished he could turn back time but he knew he had to accept the consequences of his past mistakes. 

You gave him a reassuring smile. “Take care, Bucky. It was good to see you again. Bucky nodded, his own smile tinged with a mix of regret and gratitude. “You too, Y/N, And happy birthday.” With one last look, he turned and walked out, leaving behind the echoes of their shared past and the complexities of the present.

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A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part Three

Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - fluff, mentions of blood, mentions of war, pining

Part One Part Two

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

"Would you mind not staring at my sisters ass, Azriel?"

The smug words of Rhys pulled the Shadowsinger from his thoughts, of what he'd never be able to divulge, but he was certainly pulled from them unwillingly. With red threatening to tinge his cheeks, Azriel uttered a silent apology, unaware that his eyes had been so trained on the backside of Rhys' queen sister.

That morning, Cassian had awoken with far too much confidence, patting y/n on the head and telling her that he'd go easy on her if she asked nicely, to which she had simply hummed and smirked in reply, her eyes finding Rowan across the room swimming with faux annoyance as he passed another grape between his lips, scowling at Aelin when she asked him if he'd like some birdseed instead.

So when y/n sauntered into the Peregryns training grounds clad in a tight black second skin, did Cassian realise that he had most certainly underestimated her, and his thoughts were confirmed by the wicked smiles of Rowan and Aelin who were perched upon a nearby rock. It seemed as though Cassian's challenge had reached the ears of Helion and Eris, both of whom had decided to join the group on the training grounds that morning.

Helion was slightly unnerved by y/n's lack of interest in him the night before; he had gone to spend time with the Inner Circle that he adored so dearly, especially the males within it, but found himself completely awestruck by the Fae Queen before his eyes, an exact mirror to the High Lord of the Night Court but darker in ways that threatened to make him salivate.

Her attention was completely held by her brother the evening before, they spent hours telling stories of their lives, the good and bad, the funny and heart-breaking, and by the end of it the pair seemed rather inseparable. It was Aelin who had to remind them that their presence within Prythian wasn't permanent, that y/n had a people and land to return to in Erilea, and that fact dampened her mood somewhat, so much so that she took herself to bed not long afterward.

It wasn't like y/n didn't want to return to Erilea, or home if you could even call it that, but she wished to stay with her brother in her homeland for as long as she possibly could. Even with her mother, y/n had always felt out of place, like she never truly belonged there, but the moment her eyes connected with those of her brother, the one who used to read her to sleep when she was a babe, did she feel her soul settle.

"You look a little scared Cass," Mor shouted across the ring that y/n had stepped into, hair unbound and swaying at her hips, feathered wings that rivalled the Peregryns own folded neatly behind her back.

Azriel wasn't the only one who seemed to agree with the second skin she wore, noting how it hugged her hips and curved around her breasts perfectly, like it had been moulded to her body and was made for her and her alone. Eris also enjoyed looking at her, and he was far less polite about it than Azriel was.

"No," Cassian huffed, securing the leather of his fingerless gloves around his wrists and rolling his shoulders, "She doesn't even have a weapon."

Cassian's confidence was torn apart by Rowan's laugh, a hearty thing that erupted from his lips which had him almost keeling over on the spot, "Sorry, sorry," he breathed through his laughter, waving a hand in the air and stealing Cassian's attention away from y/n's darkening eyes, "It's just how you think she needs a weapon to end your existence is hilarious to me."

During Cassian's confusion, y/n prowled around the ring, head tilted as her violet orbs assessed each and every muscle and curve, how each one contracted and moved like water rushing around a riverbend. By the time Cassian turned to face his partner for the morning, there was little to no time to stop her onslaught, y/n slid between his legs, grasping his ankles with her fingers and swept the ground from beneath his feet.

Within moments the Lord of Bloodshed had risen to his feet, bouncing back and forth on the balls of them, "That's cheating," he scolded, and y/n simply shrugged and twirled a strand of her raven hair around her finger.

"Distractions get you killed. I thought that you'd be wise enough to know that, considering you're a big tough Illyrian warrior," her voice was low and sultry, violet orbs peered from beneath her lashes and she moved around the edge of the ring, each step sending shockwaves through the dirt.

With nostrils flaring, Cassian paced across the ring, and Azriel watched her heels dig into the ground as he reached for her. Nothing in the universe would have given Cassian the agility to be able to capture y/n, every time he turned she'd slip between his legs or under his arms, or winnow half way across the training ground and taunt him to approach her.

Once he finally landed a single blow to her ribs, although by pure luck, she returned it with three perfectly synced kicks to his knees, abdomen, and then face, the power in her legs sending him sailing through the crisp morning air, and he landed in the dirt with a heavy thud, skidding to the edge of the ring where Helion stood choking back a smirk.

Looking upward, Cassian seethed at the grin on Helion's face, his lips contorting into a growl as he pushed himself up to stand, swirling on his feet to find y/n not even breaking a sweat and instead leaning against Aelin idly picking at her nails. Unphased. Unbothered.

"Amren," he strained, and the firedrake moved to his side, leaving her place by the rack of weapons standing toward the mouth of the ring, "Spear. Now."

Amren smirked and sauntered over to the rack, coiling her fingers around a beautifully crafted oak spear with a tip of jagged glass and throwing it to Cassian whose eyes remained unmoving from the Fae Queen before his eyes.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Rhys' eyes danced with wonder, and he spoke, to Azriel or Feyre or anyone who would listen, "This is going to be interesting."

Azriel couldn't help but notice how everyone's orbs had become fixated upon y/n, the one who had sent the Lord of Bloodshed crashing into the ground with not much effort at all. She dragged her gaze across the spear in Cassian's hands, her eyes widening with a sickening delight as she craned her head to whisper something to Rowan, her lips moving slow and sure.

Not long after she had withdrew her whisper from her companion, Rowan pushed himself from the rock and reached behind him to retrieve two twin blades, curved and sharp and gleaming in the early morning sunlight. Rowan handed the blades to y/n, nodding once to her as she twirled them between her fingers to assess the weight of the weapons, balancing them on her fingers, throwing them up in the air and catching them with ease.

"Don't hold this against me," she spoke aloud, her voice drifting to Rhys in knowing that she was about to harm the general of his armies.

The pair circled one another, Cassian's knuckles turning white around the beam, and y/n's fingers holding steady and true.

Cassian lunged first, and y/n expertly dodged his attack by sweeping away from him like a phantom wind, rounding on the pads of her feet to face him again as he turned. The tension was suffocating, and it seemed as though y/n was tired of his lunges and feeble attempts to knock her off of her feet. So she ascended upon his position, knocking every jab of his spear away with the fortified muscle of her forearm, hair swaying in the breeze and feet dancing closer and closer to Cassian until he was at her complete mercy.

Y/N moved gracefully, feline almost, her arms moved like the wind, adjusting their course when necessary, and she brought her taut fury down upon Cassian, slicing through his leathers and drawing blood from his shoulders and thighs; and when Cassian dropped her to the ground, she simply rose to her knees and curled on them, dragging her blade right across his midsection before coiling her legs around his own and rolling him beneath her.

With the blood coated blade pressed against his bobbing throat, y/n asked sweetly, "Do you yield?"

Panting, and knowing there was no way of winning, not when bloodlust danced in her violet orbs, Cassian breathed, "I yield."

Rising to her feet, y/n offered a hand to Cassian which he took albeit tentatively, and she hauled him to his feet, the muscles in her thighs rippling as she did and steadied his weight against her, "Remind me to never underestimate you again."

Biting back a laugh, y/n motioned to Helion, knowing that his healing touch was what Cassian needed, "I don't think you'll ever need a reminder." Helion gladly removed Cassian from y/n's grip, sending her an impressed smirk and a curt bow of the head before moving the Lord of Bloodshed elsewhere so that he may be able to begin healing him.

Ruffling her wings, y/n turned to Rowan who wore a proud smile, so wide that his gleaming canines could be seen from across the training ring, "I knew I taught you well."

There was a tone of adoration in his words, Azriel noticed, but not romantic, it was the type of adoration you'd find in the words of family, "You did," y/n admitted, walking into his open arm and allowing it to drape over her shoulder whilst Aelin barked on about how that wasn't even a real show of y/n's true power.

"How does someone even fight like that?" Azriel asked himself, catching the beaming smile and calming eyes searching the space, connecting with his own and sending him a subtle wink.

Rhys, nudging into Azriel slightly, spoke lightly, in total awe of what he had just witnessed, a part of him never thinking such a display of raw power and strength was possible, "She grew up in a world where such ability is needed. Mother above."

"Do I even want to know what she's faced to be able to fight like that?" Feyre asked in a whisper, eyes trained on the trio bickering by the rock formation at the edge of the ring now coated with Cassian's blood.

"Yes," Azriel answered too quickly, unable to move his gaze away from her whilst knowing that both Rhys and Feyre were exploring his face with knowing eyes and grins, "I want to know everything."

Though, before Azriel could cross the ring, the same ring that he would have usually infiltrated to save his brother, Rowan and Aelin had taken her away, gently nudging y/n back toward the Dawn Court Palace that loomed in the distance. And Azriel knew in that moment that he would do anything he could to get her alone, if only to know who she was under the mask that she wore.

The second meeting had passed without any other issues, and y/n had watched each and every High Lord make their statements and desires known whilst she and her cadre watched on, waiting for another spectacle to occur like it had at the meeting prior.

And y/n was surprised when the attitudes and composure of the men before her had eddied to calm and stoic. Cassian winced with every movement he made, most of the damage had been tended to, but the bruises to his skin and ego wouldn't be disappearing any time soon.

"And what is it that you want?" Aelin nudged an idly drifting y/n at the question sent her way by Thesan, "For your assistance in this war. What is it that you want?"

Glancing to Aelin and Rowan, y/n straightened in her seat, "I want no lands of titles, there is nothing material that this world could offer us that we don't already have," it was selfish really, her desired gain from a war that would kill thousands, "All I ask for is the blessing to come and go from this world as we please. My brother is here, as is his family, and I wish to be a part of that as well as my own. In return, there are materials in my lands that don't exist here, we can provide you with weapons, and train you in our fighting and healing techniques. We seek an alliance to last until eons after we are all dust. We have seen too much war and bloodshed and loss," Aelin smiled sadly, "We seek harmony."

"A Queen indeed," Helion drawled with a smile, knowing that all she had said was as true as it could be, "Is that all? You could beckon a husband? Perhaps a High Lord?"

As fast as it came and went, Azriel noticed the lightening glance she stole toward him, and she spoke, in a voice like a glorious storm, "I think you'll find that Lords cower before me. My match is someone who welcomes the darkness, someone who is not and will never be afraid of what it holds," y/n's fingers curled around the arms of her chair, and she continued, "To be able to see my brother whenever I wish is all I want, yes."

Thesan dragged his orbs around the room, seeing no objections from the eyes meeting his stare, "Your desire is our honour to grant."

"Thank you."

The second meeting of the summit concurred, and the High Lords and their companions and lovers took their time speaking their farewells. Helion strode up to y/n last, appreciating her figure in the strapless taupe gown she adorned which was glittered in a million crystals, shining dimly in the light from their dwindling sizes; he took her hand in his, noting the length of her talons, and pressed his lips to her knuckles, "It was a pleasure laying eyes on you," he told her gently, his warmth spreading across her skin, "I suppose I'll see you on the battlefield."

"That you will. Try not to gawk, you may end up six feet under."

Helion backed away with a smirk, still facing the exquisite woman before his amber orbs, "I won't make promises that I cannot keep, Your Majesty."

Then he left, taking his clan with him after one final goodbye to Rhys. Aelin appeared at y/n's side, staring after Helion with a feline wonder in her eyes, "I bet you anything that he's a firecracker in bed."

"Aelin," y/n scolded whilst trying to contain a grin, knowing that the thought had passed through her mind rather shamelessly the night prior.

"Don't scold her," Rowan drawled from her other side, he too peering at the retreating High Lord, "She's not wrong."

"Remind me to bring Aedion and Lorcan next time," she barrelled her fists into either of their arms, noticing the High Lords leaving one by one, "I suppose we should be leaving too."

Aelin titled her head slightly at the tone of defeat and longing in y/n's mouth, glancing to Rowan who nodded once to his mate in agreement to her silent thoughts.

"Perhaps it would be a wise idea if you stayed," Aelin twirled a strand of y/n's raven hair in her fingers, her sentence had caught the attention of an already eagerly awaiting Inner Circle, and they moved to the trio without invitation.

"But, Doranelle-"

"Will be fine," Aelin motioned between her and Rowan, "We will ensure it, and I'm sure Manon would love to play queen for a bit," sensing y/n's apprehension, Aelin continued, "We are not leaving you, and you are not abandoning your people. Our nations are one, it will be alright."

Azriel moved to y/n's side, his shadows peppering her wings with their wonder causing them to rustle slightly with silent delight, and Azriel felt the waves of comfort pour from her, "When was the last time you saw Velaris?"

Turning to face the Shadowsinger, y/n clearly already knew the answer to the question, "It's been too long," her eyes swam with the lost time, and Azriel gingerly settled a hand beneath her elbow, a crutch to do what it was that she wished, and offered her a gentle smile, and she returned it, "Are you sure?" Y/N turned back to Aelin and Rowan who both nodded, "And if you need me-"

"We'll get Lorcan to pull on the bond," Rowan rolled his eyes playfully and closed the gap between him and y/n, pressing his lips into her hairline before taking a step backward, "Live, y/n. Embrace whatever time you have, it's a gift.""

Bond.

Did y/n have a mate?

Azriel's mind swam with possibility, but his marred fingers did not once leave her skin, not for even a moment, "Alright, but prepare yourselves for the arguments once you return without me," y/n waved her fingers and a rippling portal appeared upon the steps where they stood, showing a land of rolling hills and white mountains awaiting beyond.

Pointing a long finger to Rhys, Aelin with a tone of warning spoke, "Look after her."

"Such a mother hen, Aelin," the blonde haired queen rolled her eyes as she stepped to the edge of the portal, dragging Rowan with her.

"No, that's him," and before Rowan could retort in his usual dry fashion, Aelin pulled him through the portal and sent y/n a singular wink as the portal rippled smaller and smaller, until it had vanished completely.

Turning to face Azriel, still feeling his touch against her skin and soul, y/n moved her gaze to Rhys, not moving, not wanting to be away from the comfort of Azriel for even a moment, "So, Velaris then?"

Rhys smiled, taking a step toward his sister, "It's missed you."

"How do you know?"

Shrugging, Rhys spoke with knowing eyes, "You'll see," he offered a hand to her, partly to be able to winnow her into the City of Starlight, but also to get her away from Azriel for a moment, already sensing the Shadowsinger's obsession growing.

"I'd like to fly. It's been awhile since I've been able to stretch my wings," and as if sensing the wind in their feathers, her wings unfolded to reveal the most beautiful set of wings Azriel had ever seen. They were as dark as the night itself, glossed with a thousand stars, and the apex of the one million layered fathers stretched upward to the ceiling.

Before Rhys could offer his guidance, Azriel cut through his thoughts, "I can accompany you, if you'd like?"

With a glitter in her eyes, y/n accepted Azriel's offer and allowed him to guide her outside to one of the balconies encrusted around the duomo of the palace. Peering over the edge of the railing and seeing the drop below, y/n inhaled the crisp air of the horizon, allowed the depleting sun to seep into her skin, "Let's see how fast you can fly, Shadowsinger," and then she leant backward, toppling from the edge and embarking on the most glorious free fall she had endured since the time she had escaped the clutches of her mother.

When she was but metres from the ground, her wings instinctively caught the wind and propelled her upward, sending her soaring past the balcony where she heard Cassian's barking laughter and jeering resonate as she drifted over the dome. It wasn't long until Azriel joined her, smirking at her display and unable to find the words to convey his feelings. His heart was still lodged in his throat from stupidly believing that y/n would be nothing but blood and bones against the rocks below, another mistake of underestimation.

Their wings levelled out, Azriel flying just to the side below her, and y/n couldn't help but watch the world go by as they flew over mountain ranges and fields plush with wildlife, towns and villages glowed gold beneath her eye as the moon began her ascent into the sky, glittering the sky in a violet hue. It was wild to know that she had never witnessed her homeland in such a way, or at all really, but she welcomed each sight like an infant exploring a forest for the first time, stopping at every rock and stream possible.

Watching how the wind swept through her hair, Azriel wondered what it would be like to run his marred fingers through, the silky gloss to it beckoned him in a way even the darkness could not, and he found himself edging closer to her with each passing second.

"I never realised how beautiful it is," y/n muttered to no one in particular, it was more of an aloud statement than an invitation for conversation, and Azriel knew that but chose to engage in it anyway.

"What is Doranelle like?" Azriel observed how her eyes softened in memory, the violet orbs that rivalled Rhys' own shining. What Azriel would give to see the world through eyes like that, mesmerising but calculating, a perfect myriad of awe and observation.

Casting her mind to the city shrouded in pale stone and flowing rivers, a soft smile found her lips, "Doranelle is beautiful," she stated simply, "It's known as the City of Rivers. My mother built the city there to protect her against Brannon's heir. Against Aelin." There was much to her story that she wasn't sure that she'd ever divulge, from the arguments she used to have with Rowan and the initial place she stood at the beginning of the war, to the darkness that lurked within her thanks to her mother and the danger that came with it.

Though, Rowan and Aelin had worked very hard to settle that part of y/n's soul, the part that salivated over the light and sought to devour any form of power that crossed it, and, thanks to their help along with Manon and Yrene, y/n found herself paying little heed to that dark spot hiding within her essence.

"The city is just beyond the Cambrian Mountains and lies east in the continent of Wendlyn. The air is heavy with spice and magic, and I don't ever remember a time when rain found the city naturally," she twirled in the air, diving and dipping without a care in the world.

It was true. Doranelle lay in a rich valley lush with mountains and forests, and it was rare that any negative weather descended upon the City of Rivers, not unless she willed it to and each time she had y/n had been punished greatly.

"It sounds beautiful," Azriel turned onto his back, gazing upward at the Queen of the Fae and appreciating her beauty whilst her wings flapped in long lazy strokes, "Your mother built the city to protect herself against Aelin?"

With orbs darkening, y/n found Azriel's gaze, ignoring the drowning hum sounding in her ears, "My mother was the vilest of creatures, she only ever sought to protect herself, to make herself live for as long as possible. She was known as an immortal queen, but she screamed when I drowned her in the storm. I believe that she only welcomed me into her city to prepare me to host her soul once she tired of her own body."

A preposterous thought, a vile act to insight upon any child let alone your own. Azriel shuddered, not being able to imagine her violet orbs dissipate to black. "Why would she do that?"

Contemplating the question, and not at all feeling like the words she would say would ever be used against her, y/n admitted, "I think she knew that I was more powerful than her. My abilities had always intrigued her, I think that's why she spent so long finding the right being to train me."

"Rowan." Y/N hummed lightly in response. "And what about Lorcan? Rowan mentioned a bond?"

Azriel hated to pry, but he had to know if she was mated, there was no indication telling him that she was, no scent or marking on her skin, but he had to be sure. Tilting her head at Azriel with an incredulous look in her eye, y/n smirked, "Lorcan is my blood-sworn, he protects me and acts on my wishes. Aedion is also my blood-sworn, he's Aelin's cousin, and a fine warrior and friend."

Friend.

Feeling his soul settle somewhat and his shadows finally relax, Azriel dipped low as they approached a mountain range, sighting the rippling wards around the city open with invitation and eagerness, Azriel guessed that the excitement was not for him. Azriel slowed on his flight, willing y/n to do the same, to give her time to prepare herself to see the place in which she had been born.

He reached for her, hands holding steady and true, and curled his marred fingers around her wrist to act as her anchor, or to be whatever she needed in that moment, "Are you ready?"

In a hush above a whisper, y/n replied, "Yes," and the pair dove through that rippling hole that concealed the city from any outside prying eyes, and Azriel could have sworn that the valley of gold brightened immediately, that the closed buds within the gardens bloomed, and that even the Sidra craned its lovely neck to witness her.

As if in welcome, sighing at long last, the mountains roared into the night, rumbling the air and singing their relief. Gasping, y/n soared downward through the night-kissed air, slipping from Azriel's grip as she banked along the waters surface, running her fingers over the perfect reflection of the night sky, smiling when it came alive at her touch and danced up her arms.

The Princess of Velaris had come home, and the city wept with joy at the sight.

Weaving to a place beside her, Azriel smiled faintly at the pure ecstasy that was written upon her features, and he wordlessly kept his pace whilst she ebbed and flowed throughout the city, only stopping when she did. Her wings touched the skies and mirrored the night perfectly, y/n swirled to Azriel, water gathering on her bottom lids, and asked, "Where are they?"

Azriel stretched out his arm, pointing to the opulent residence built into the mountain side, "They'll be up there. It's called the House of Wind."

"Is that where you live?"

Azriel hummed in answer, "And you're welcome to stay there too," he hoped as he edged toward her position floating atop the Sidra, so close to the surface that her toes glided against the water, "The view is incredible from the balcony."

"Really?"

"Really." Nerves settled in his gut, knowing that there was a very slim chance that anyone so beautiful let alone a Fae Queen would ever accept his offer, but he couldn't explain his need to be near her, his need to protect her, "I can show you around the city tomorrow if you'd like?"

"A war is coming. Surely Rhys will be putting you to work come dawn," she took his offered arm and felt his weight propel her upward toward the House of Wind, grand and regal in its own right.

"This is more important."

If it weren't so dark then y/n was sure that Azriel would have seen the blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Then yes, I would like that very much."

"Plus," Azriel leaned in close, his breath fanning against her bare shoulder as he noted the scars littering her skin, "I'm sure that Rhys would give you the world on a string if you asked for it."

"And what would you give me?"

Flickering his eyes upward to meet her own, enjoying how the interior lights of the House of Wind cast a heavenly glow over her face, Azriel smirked, "Name it and it's yours."

Author's Note

Part 3 eeek! x

Also I know I've been super absent recently - life has been hitting me hard but I'm in a much better place now so expect lots of updates next week!

Also - it wouldn’t let me tag certain people, sorry about that! Let me know if you’d like to be added 🤍

Taglist

@userxs-blog @riorgail @fandomarchiveilyd @booksandbud4me @acourtofbatboydreams @sidthedollface2 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @tenshis-cake @rcarbo1 @doodlebugg16-blog @snoopyspace @superspideyparker @wolvesnravens @acourtofbooksandshadows @i-am-infinite @hannzoaks @evergreenlark @quinzzelx @fuckingsimp4azriel @laurzwrites @astrxbabx @michellexgriffey @just-here-reading @cherry-cin

[strawberrynightmere]

Bad Cats!!! [Yandere Andrew Graves x female reader]

Warning ⚠️: yandere tendencies, alternate universe, ruining dates, will add more latter, this is short.

A/n: to those who harassed the creator of the intentionally disturbing and grosse horror game, I wish a big ol' FUCK YOU.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

If you were honest with yourself, this was your fault. Though you shouldn't beat yourself up about it, you should be surprised by the other hand.

From either of your cats, you expected this from Ashley, but Andrew attacking your date? Makes you really think.

Your date didn't like it one bit and stormed out of your apartment. You obviously did chase after them to check if they were okay, and then got rejected in a hurtful way, too. Calling you a future cat lady who's gonna die old and alone.

To say your attraction for them instantly dropped to a -1000 was an understatement. You'd understand if they left because they were allergic or something, but insulting any cat lady and saying you were gonna die old and alone simply because you have two cats was just a jackass thing to do.

Flopping on your couch face first, you groan into the cushions in frustration. It's been so long since you had a date that went well, and a good fuck too.

"Meow."

You lift your head up to see Andrew sitting in front of you. The cat leans down and licks your face. Sitting up, you lift Andrew to your eye level.

"I should be mad at you. However, you did save me from what possibly could've been." Andrew just rubs his face on yours just for some more affection.

"Hehe! That's enough. Let's get you something to eat." Those words were like some form of a summon because Ashley appeared on your shoulder without any sound.

You went into the kitchen and poured some food into their bowls, and went to grab something for yourself from the fridge.

While sitting at the dining table, you contemplate if you should make a phone call or not.

Oh, what the hell you planned to sleep in anyway.

You immediately call your friend to tell her how it went.

"It didn't go good, did it?"

"Well gee, Nina! What do you think about how it went?!" Irritated with her instant and correct assumption, you use a sarcastic reply.

"Alright! Tell me what happened."

Much better.

"It was going well at first. I was feeling it. They were feeling it, too."

"Get to the point."

"Getting there. But when we got to my place, Andrew wasn't feeling it." You hear her laughing in amusement over the phone.

"I'm serious! He attacked them, and then they said some real out of pocket stuff to me."

She's still laughing.

"I'm sorry, Andrew? Are you sure it wasn't Ashley?"

Alright, just because they were both black cats, it didn't mean you couldn't tell the difference between them. You told her that a million times.

"If you're just gonna laugh, then I'll hang up."

"Sorry! Sorry. I just didn't expect it."

You sigh. "Whatever."

"Listen, let's talk tomorrow, I'm going to bed early."

"Alright." You hang up.

"Should've called Julia instead."

You jolt in surprise when you see Andrew sitting on the table, staring at you. "We talked about this." Actually, you talked, were either of them listening or not was a mystery. You place him on the floor and put your empty dishes in the dishwasher and decide you should call it a night and head to bed.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Once, Andrew was sure you were deep asleep. He changed into his human form and crawled in bed with you.

"You should've seen your face, Andy, I was so sure you were gonna claw their eyes out." Ashley, who was still in her cat form, spoke.

"Why are you still here?" Andrew whispered irritatedly.

"Oh, come on, I'm living the life of luxury. Why should I leave?" Andrew just rolled his eyes at his sister's excuse, but he knew she'd rather eat glass than admit that she got attached to you.

Deciding to ignore her, Andrew continued to cuddle up to you.

"Aww, you stiw angwy youw giwfwiend bwout someone ewse home?" Now that wasn't needed.

"Shut up."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

A/n: it wasn't that good, but it wasn't that bad.

[totaly-obsessed]

Revelations

Katie McCabe x reader request

-> Katie and you watch Aine play football for the first time

-> 2 requests in one - I hope you like it!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

‘I want another one’ somehow happened quite fast and not even a year later – Aine was getting ready to be a big sister. Telling her didn’t quite go as Katie or you had planned…

“Baby in Mummy’s tummy!”

A deadly silence had fallen over the kitchen as your wife and you just exchanged glances, trying to figure out who had snitched, both convinced that it was not you.

“What do ya mean lovie?” Katie tried to act unknowingly but apparently forgot that Aine had gotten the sass from her.

“You need to listen better!” You could barely hold yourself up with how much you were shaking with laughter and the Irishwoman’s shocked face. “Watch ya tone, Missy!”

By now the young girl had attached herself to your leg, clawing at you for ‘uppies’ as she had once called it. When you finally caved and sat her on the kitchen counter, she was quickly joined by Cooper who nuzzled his head into her side.

“You’re right doll. There is a baby in Mummy’s tummy – you will be a big sister.” Both of you were curious about how the seven-year-old would react to the news, not even caring at this point how she had figured it out.

“Like Mama and Auntie Lauryn!” Cooper by now had enough of the excited bouncing, opting to leave and look for a pretty spot in the sun where he could nap until his small human companion would inevitably find him and smother him in pets.

“That’s right bub! What do you think of that?” Back was the tense silence, as Katie grabbed your hand, giving it a loving squeeze – this was much more terrifying than you had thought. At least you didn’t need to actually tell Aine the news, she had taken that upon herself.

The small brunette looked around the open kitchen and living space, her pigtails swishing through the air as she scooted closer to the edge of the countertop, getting her face right next to yours. Katie’s hands were ready in case she fell, which she wouldn’t but Katie would always worry. “Pssshh! Don’t tell - this was my biggest wish for Santa! And it came true!”

Your wife couldn’t help but laugh, kissing her daughter's forehead before hiding her face in the very familiar brown hair. “Well, Santa came early then, huh?” It was in the middle of November, but ever since last Christmas, the seven-year-old had started a wish list. “He did! Cause I wanted it so badly – and Mummy did too!”

This had gone over much better than you could have imagined, and for now, you were just fine with her thinking that Santa was the way her little sibling would find its way to her. “You’re right Lovie. Mummy and Mama wished for it really badly too.”

---

---

It was no secret that Aine wanted to be just like her Mama, so her playing football should really not come as a surprise to either of you but it turns out that seeing her little girl get accepted into the Arsenal U8s team was something entirely different.

The little brunette had tried out for them, just like any other kid (no matter what haters would say), and got accepted with no problem. At their age group, it wasn’t considered as ‘Academy’ training, but rather ‘Pre academy’, with two training sessions a week and ten games across the whole season. They also weren’t separated into a girls' and boys' team just yet, so the Arsenal U8’s was a mixed team that would compete against other fixed games and also just boys teams.

With spring break coming up, Aine’s first match was also coming closer and closer. Katie had never felt so many emotions. Seeing you at six months pregnant and now well rounded while her little girl went to training after training, each time coming home with a bigger smile.

“Look at this! You’ll look just like Mama!”

Katie really couldn’t hold her tears anymore – with you holding her hand Aine admired herself in the mirror, wearing her game-day kit for the very first time.

But instead of Katie's 15 on her back, she had a 10 – for Kim Little, the best Midfielder there was and your daughter's biggest idol, much to her mama's disappointment.

“You look so grown up, Doll.” Seeing your wife this emotional, and Aine so happy gave you the rest. Now both of you were bawling your eyes out while the little brunette hopped around the house, before running back with Katie’s phone in her little hands.

“Take a picture, Mummy! For Auntie Kim!”

In the picture you were holding the grinning girl in your arms, as she proudly kissed your tummy, refusing to properly pose as she wanted to show Kim her little sibling as well.

This was the best day yet for the young gunner. After all, she was going to be a big sister, so she had to be a good example and play good football – just like the grown-ups.

“Do me a favor, my love?” Aine stood in between her mother's legs when she finally composed herself a little. “Hmmm?”

“Grow up a little slower, will ya?”

---

---

Turns out preparing for gameday, and actually experiencing one, were completely different experiences – especially when it was a double game day.

Aine was already hopping through the house like an excited bunny when Katie made her way down the stairs to make breakfast.

The Irishwoman had kissed your forehead, gently waking you up with a mumbled “Mornin Love. Thirty minutes.” Before going downstairs. God was her morning voice attractive.

It was seven in the morning. On a Sunday. Entirely too early for a six-month pregnant you who had put a giddy child to bed, that didn’t want to sleep. But your wife was gracious, giving you thirty more minutes to wake up fully before helping her daughter bring breakfast in.

You could get used to this – a delicious meal in bed with your wife and daughter, although a little later would have been nice.

“Mummy, when do we have to go?” This was the third time Aine had asked in the last ten minutes, and every time either Katie or you had given her the answer but the small brunette couldn’t help herself – she was just too excited.

This was the fastest you had ever seen the seven-year-old get washed and dressed after breakfast. She was so fast, that she had gotten impatient with your much slower speed. Aine took it upon herself to get you dressed while you brushed your teeth while sat on the closed toilet.

“Foot please Mama!” You did as asked, picking up your legs off the floor so that your daughter could slip socks over your feet.

And with a quick zoom, she was in your bedroom again, just to return with wide, comfortable pants that you just knew that your wife chose. Instead of giving them to you, she threw them on the floor. “Step in please!” Good thing you were already wearing underwear, huh? As good as she could, Aine helped you get them up and over your bump, but not before giving it a kiss and whispering a small “Hi!”

It went like that until you were fully dressed and she pulled you to the hallway, where your wife helped you into shoes as you could barely see the ground anymore.

“Is this okay? I thought maybe I should have given her longer socks because it will be cold – but then we have a blanket so maybe you will get too hot an-“ Katie’s rambling was cut short with a passionate kiss. “It’s perfect – Thank you, my Love.”

“Let go, let go, let's go!”

---

---

“Now you know how it feels to watch you play!” Katie was tense as she leaned against one of the beams that surrounded the football pitch.

The drive here had gone by fairly quickly as Aine made sure to tell your wife all about her teammates. You had met most of them already during practice or while picking her back up again – the small brunette would always chat with anybody who would listen until you walked over to take her home. Her chattiness definitely came from your wife – but right now there was nothing in the world that could make the Irishwoman relax.

“She’s tougher than she looks, my Love.” By now you had taken the footballer's hand, rubbing calming circles on it in a desperate attempt to calm her down.

Aine was one of four girls on the pitch – two on her team and two on the other. The rest were all boys. And while you knew that she was feistier than she looked, much more like her mother than you, the size difference between her and some of the boys was terrifying.

“Oi Ref!” Your wife’s hand shot up when an opposing boy had clumsily taken your daughter down with him in an attempt to stop her from getting even closer to their goal. “That’s a free kick! Ref!” The guy refereeing the game didn’t see the incident at first, angering Katie even further – but when he did look over the first thing that he saw, was a tiny brunette shoving a boy at least a head taller off of her.

The shrill sound of a whistle agreed with Katie, and the Arsenal U8s were indeed allowed a freekick in a very good position for them, as your daughter had been very central on the field and closing in on goal.

Katie’s grip on your hand tightened with stress – she knew what she would do in this situation. But did her seven-year-old know it as well? They spent countless dinner conversations talking about football and plenty of different techniques, with impressive input from Aine, so she had to know what she was doing, right?

 And she did.

The brunette passed to one of her free strikers and started running through the masses. She was small, fast, and agile – and before the opposing team could blink, her striker passed back to her when she was standing directly in front of the goal.

“Yes! That’s my daughter!”

Katie couldn’t contain herself any longer – the ball had hit the back of the net with a surprising amount of force, their keeper jumping in the other direction, making this a perfect goal. Her first goal.

After high-fiving every player on her team your daughter sprinted over to where you stood and gave a quick kiss to your belly just like she had done earlier in the morning. “For you, baby!”

The match ended shortly after Arsenal's third goal, assisted by your daughter who once again looked at you and Katie, to see if you watched her – which you did.

One of the trainers had brought a box of mixed ice-creams and even though the young brunette wasn’t supposed to, she took three of them and quickly made her way to you and your wife.

“Don’t you wanna eat with your friends baby?”

“Nuh-uh. You are my best friends.”

Well, there go your hormones again as you couldn’t hold your tears at bay any longer. “I love you so much Aine. And you played so well.” The seven-year-old kissed your forehead much like Katie did, before ensuring that someone had recorded the game so that she could show Auntie Kim her goal.

“That was my first win for baby sister, Mommy! Now Mama needs to win tonight so it’s a perfect day!”

“Geez no pressure huh?” Everything was packed up now and the pitch was getting emptier by the minute as multiple parents made their way to their cars at the same time you did.

“Aine I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“What if it’s a baby brother instead?”

She was now buckled into her car seat, with Katie still at her door trying to work out something that has been bothering her ever since your daughter had announced that you were pregnant again. Neither you nor Katie have been told the gender of the baby, yet the youngest family member seemed sure that it would be a girl again.

“It’s not. It’s a baby sister.”

“How do you know that?”

You tried to watch their interaction as well as you could from your passenger seat. Your Wife’s eyes were wide with curiosity, something that you saw in Aine nearly every day.

“I just do.”

“You terrify me, Kid.”