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januaryembrs · 8 months

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

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

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

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

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

series masterlist | next chapter

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer gulped quietly.

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

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing.

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

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

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

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

So why lie?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+1. The one where you get arrested.

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

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

Yet so was Emily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+2. The one where you graduate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bug-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t even,”

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was when the shooting started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could only hope Emily was safe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so they did.

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

This was not good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

2:53 stared back at her.

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

2:54.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she saw why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saved mine,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stayed with Emily for a month after that.

+4. The one where you leave the altar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

#spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #Prentiss #prentiss!Reader #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #mathew grey gubler #Matthew grey gubler x reader

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iiwaijime · 1 month

Text

help! we're getting married!? — k. tsukishima

cws; gn!reader, swearing, kissing, sleeping in one bed NO SUS possible ooc and not proofread.

wc; 1227

"do you want to get married?"

you blink, thinking you may have misheard.

"do you want to get married?" he repeats. "to me."

what. you stare at the plate in your hands, dumbfounded. in no way are you prepared for this — today's just a normal saturday night. you're bent over the dishwasher, in your PJs and your old frayed slides. your sweaty hair sticks to your damp forehead, and your hands are covered in grease and soap.

tsukishima is at the table, doing taxes. he's not dressed for any particular occasion, in a loose white button-up and dark coloured slacks. neither of you are in any position for a proposal; his lunch is still half-eaten on the table, and you're both tired and sweaty, and neither of you are dressed well enough for this. but most importantly, you arent even dating!

he pushes his glasses up with a finger, staring at you with his usual lack of emotion. "do you have any hearing problems i haven't heard about?"

"no? are you joking?"

'do i look like i'm joking?" he retorts.

"no, but—"

"there you go, got your answer, didn't you?"

"we arent even dating!" you protest

"yeah?" he says, leaning back and stretching his arms out. "we don't need to."

"fuck's that supposed to mean?" you demand. you're washing your hands now, back turned to him. even though his steps were light, unheard over the sound of splashing water, you still noticed his shadow looming over you. you turn around, exasperated. "what?"

"just give it some thought," he says, and he sounds normal, but there's a weird tension in the air. you know he's aware of it, though, because he pushes his glasses up even though they don't need to be, and runs his hands through his hair, rolling his shoulders back.

it's half past one in the morning, and you stare blankly at the television, feet on kei's lap. he's on the other side of the couch, scrolling on his phone with one hand. the other hand rests on your ankle, thumb brushing the skin gently every now and then. the question hangs heavy in the air between the two of you, until—

"yes," you blurt.

"hmm?" he looks up, putting his phone down. "what was that?"

"yes, i'll marry you." it's stupid, you're stupid to be saying yes to something as life-changing as this, just because of a stupid years-long crush-infatuation thing that you've harboured for him until now.

he nods, businesslike, and you swear you can see the slightest trace of a smile on his lips. "okay."

"why, though?" you ask. "is it like a marriage of convenience? i mean, it's not like you're into me or anything, are you?"

he rips his eyes away from yours abruptly, looking away. but the blush that spreads across his face like wildfire gives you the answer you needed — although it's definitely not what you'd expected. and suddenly you realise that kei tsukishima doesn't remember his other friends' coffee orders or let them put their feet on his lap. he doesn't pin their contacts to the top of the list, doesn't carry them to bed, doesn't pack lunch for them like he does for you. he isn't the kind of guy to show physical affection to anyone — yet you still recall the gentle, loving brush of his knuckles against your cheekbone just a few nights ago, when he'd settled you into your bed. speaking of beds, he doesn't let his other friends sleep in his bed, and he definitely doesn't hold them either, the way he holds you. a small spark of hope rises within you; with it, the flame of attraction and want that you've religiously kept suppressed all these years comes back to life.

"wait, do you?" your voice is half-serious, half-teasing as you yank your legs away from his lap, getting up to advance upon him on your knees instead. except, just before you reach him, you stumble and fall.

kei catches you smoothly, transferring you onto his lap with an effortless grace that is befitting of a 6'5" middle blocker. meanwhile, your hands shoot out to clutch at his shoulders.

"careful," he murmurs, steadying you, hands on your hips. his face — as usual — betrays no emotion, but his leg bounces up and down anxiously beneath you, and his thumb works feverish circles into your hipbone. "you'll hurt yourself."

although grateful for his concern, you acknowledge it with barely a nod, focused on the question you'd asked before. "do you?"

his lips press into a thin line, brows furrowing ever so slightly. "and if i do? what then, will you hate me?"

you laugh, a sound filled with euphoria, joy. "of course not, silly!"

realisation dawns upon his face. "then do you...?"

you nod as he trails off. he doesn't have to finish what he's saying got you to understand; the two of you have always been good at this mutual-understanding-nonverbal-communication thing, after all. he readjusts you on his lap, and you daringly let your hands fall off his shoulders in favour of fisting the material of his shirt instead. "what do you propose we do?"

"i think i have an idea," he replies easily, cradling your face with one large hand. the tips of his fingers thread into your hair, and he angles your head upwards. you can see the lightest smattering of pink dusting his cheeks, and he swallows harshly as your eyes meet his. "that is, if you'll let me."

"yeah?" you ask.

"yeah," he replies hoarsely.

you're not sure who initiates, but a second later, you're kissing him fervently — you're kissing kei tsukishima, and he's reciprocating, too. you can smell the mint from the toothpaste he's used for about ten years now — it's oddly nostalgic compared to the unfamiliar territory you're currently treading with him. he lets you take the lead, leaning back lazily, and only pauses to push his fogged up glasses to his forehead. when you pull away, he's grinning down at you lazily.

"yeah," he repeats.

you swat at his chest, flushing, and he catches your wrists, pulling you in so you collapse into his arms, and holy fuck, the two of you fit together perfectly. "so is that a yes?"

"yeah—" you cut yourself off with a huge yawn, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. there's a different kind of affection in his eyes now as he takes in the vision of you melted into him, and he takes a moment to immortalise it in his brain. "sleepy?"

you nod, eyelids heavy, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. "thank you. go to sleep, i'll take you to bed."

"whose bed?" you snicker. "yours?"

it all backfires when you wake up much later than intended, kei still wrapped around you. all you'd wanted to do was make fun of him — but now he says he can't sleep without you ever again.

"let me go!"

"it's your fuckin' fault, go back to sleep."

BONUS BECAUSE ILYGS

"so what you mean to say is, you were secretly dating?" asks yamaguchi.

"no, the fuck?"

"but you were dating, right?"

"no, we weren't."

"how does that even work?"

"don't know, don't care. we're married and that's all that matters."

maybe he's hallucinating when he sees tsukishima on the phone, a huge, dopey smile on his face as he talks.

fuckin hate my english teacher she dont know what english is so i wrote this in my english class and answered all her questions too without paying attention cuz im cool like that. also i have a general taglist now so send an ask if you want in

also tysm @mitskicain s parents for the inspiration ☝️😎

@akaakeis + @smiithys

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wholoveseggs · 2 months

Text

Innocence

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} It is your wedding night and your new husband has a reputation for being ruthless, violent and cruel. You know nothing about sex, but that doesn't stop him from making you his wife in every sense of the word.

3.9k words - Warnings: smut, angst, virgin!reader, Daemon teaching sex, oral sex, breeding kink, size kink, soft dom!daemon... & lots of wine

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer

@cheneyq @fallout-girl219 @nina6708 @evasmlp

You stood in front of the fire, your arms wrapped around your body as you stared into the flames, willing yourself to stop crying. The wedding had been perfect, but now you were left to do your wifely duty and consummate your marriage and the very thought made you shudder.

You knew nothing of men, of their desires and the marriage bed, and all you had heard about Daemon, your husband, was that he was rough and wild in all things, and this included the bedroom.

Your stomach rolled with nausea at the very thought. You had heard the horror stories of virgins, the blood and the pain, the tears. You were smaller in stature than most and your mother had warned you that the pain would be intense and unbearable.

When your lord father had arranged the marriage with the Prince you were both shocked and frightened. He was such an imposing figure at court, tall and broad, with strong arms and a sharp jawline. His eyes were violet and they held a darkness in them that made you feel as if he could read all your thoughts and secrets.

The wedding and the feast afterwards felt like a blur and all you could think about was getting away from everyone and the impending dread of the marriage bed. You had watched him across the room, laughing and joking with his brother, and then with the ladies who were vying for his attention. He had a certain swagger and cockiness about him that had you feeling even more on edge.

A quiet knock on the door of the bedchamber pulled you from your thoughts and you jumped, wiping your eyes and sniffing. You were sure you looked a sight and the thought only made you cry harder.

"Come in," you whispered, keeping your back to the door, and when the door creaked open you heard the many footsteps of your new handmaidens.

"Let's get you undressed my lady," one said softly, and she began to remove the pins from your hair, while the others worked on removing the ornate dress.

They were all new to you, a gift from your new husband to help you settle in, and you had only just met them this evening before the wedding. Your old handmaidens had been sent home and you missed them terribly, needing their advice now more than ever.

The new handmaids continued in silence, and the longer you were left alone in your head the more panicked you became. Once your dress had been removed and you were in just your shift, you took the goblet of wine one of the girls handed you, drinking down half the contents, hoping it would calm your nerves.

The girls continued their tasks, removing your jewelry, the remaining pins from your hair. Leaving you in just a thin satin shift that barely covered your body.

You stood awkwardly, fiddling with the fabric in your fingers, looking down at the ground and biting your lip.

"Shall we remove the shift, my lady?" One of the girls asked, and you felt your stomach drop, bile rising in your throat. You could feel their eyes on you, assessing the situation.

"No," you choked out, and the girl frowned at you. "I-I would prefer to keep it on."

The girls shared a knowing look and gathered your wedding gown, curtsying to you and bidding you goodnight. When the door closed, you let out a heavy sigh and walked back towards the fireplace, finishing off your wine, and staring once again into the flames.

It felt like hours had passed, and the silence of the room was deafening. The sound of your breathing seemed louder than ever, and you could hear your own heartbeat, the blood rushing through your ears.

You kept drinking the wine, hoping it would calm your nerves, and before long you had consumed two full goblets. Your body was beginning to feel warm and the edges of the room had begun to blur.

You were feeling light headed, and a little dizzy, and when the door finally opened and your husband entered, the room spun a little. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, and you felt his warm hands wrap around your waist.

He hummed as his mouth pressed kisses to your neck, his beard scratching your sensitive skin, and you leaned into him, his body radiating heat.

"Why aren't you undressed?" he whispered against your neck, he reached up and took the goblet out of your hand, taking a long sip and then placing it back on the mantelpiece.

"I-" you faltered, your cheeks burning, and he turned you around to face him. His large hands were resting on your waist and he looked at you with curiosity.

He guided you over to the nearby chaise and pushed you down onto it, and when he sat down beside you he began pouring a fresh goblet of wine.

He handed you the glass and watched you take a long sip, and you could see a hint of a smirk on his lips. He knew you were nervous.

"Tell me why," he said quietly, taking a sip from his own glass and you shrugged.

"I don't wish to take the shift off," you admitted, and he chuckled, taking the goblet from your hands and placing it on the table beside him.

"I know you did not wish for this marriage, but it is the way of things," he said, his voice was surprisingly soft, "but if it's any comfort, I do not intend to mistreat you."

You nodded, perhaps it was the wine or the warmth of his body, but the tension in your shoulders was easing a little.

"May I ask you something?" you whispered, and he raised an eyebrow, his mouth quirking.

"I suppose," he said with a small smirk.

"What's it like?"

"What's what like?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"The marriage bed," you said quickly, your cheeks burning and you averted your eyes.

Daemon cleared his throat, a hint of a smile on his face. He knew you were untouched, but he had not expected this kind of innocence.

"The marriage bed can be enjoyable, especially if both people are willing and wanting," he explained, and you swallowed hard, nodding.

"And if they aren't?"

Daemon's gaze softened and he sighed, looking into the fire. He was no monster. He knew the reputation he had at court, and although a lot of it was well earned, he was not going to be cruel.

"Then it's not fun for either of us," he said softly, and your gaze flickered up to meet his. He looked almost sympathetic, his eyes not holding their usual mischief.

You bit your lip and shifted closer to him, your body seeking out the warmth he provided. He smiled and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you flush against his chest, his hand stroking up and down your arm.

"You are now under my protection, my little wife," he murmured against your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "And I shall look after you."

You sighed and snuggled further into him, feeling safer than you had all day. The wine was helping to dull the edge of fear, and his touch was warm and gentle.

The conversation turned to other things, you both loved music and riding, and Daemon had a wicked sense of humor that had you laughing and blushing. You felt comfortable for the first time since you had met him.

You didn't notice his wandering hands, the way they stroked your thighs, your hips. You didn't notice how his lips grazed your neck, leaving soft kisses and nips. You were too focused on his words, the rumble of his chest.

"My little wife," he breathed against your ear, his hands slipping under the hem of your shift, and you suddenly stood up, moving away from him and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Daemon sighed, standing up and walking towards you. He cupped your face in his large hands, stroking his thumb along your cheek.

He reached for the straps of your shift, and began pulling them down your arms. Your hands came up automatically and tried to push them back up, and Daemon tutted, taking hold of your wrists and placing your palms on his chest.

"Stop it," he commanded, and the tone of his voice had you immediately obeying him. His hands resumed their task, pulling the straps down, letting the silky fabric pool around your feet.

You looked up at him with watery eyes, your cheeks flushed, and your arms covering your breasts. He cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing over your plump lips.

"Do not hide from me," he whispered, and your eyes dropped to the floor, a few tears escaping and running down your cheeks.

Daemon gently tilted your chin upwards and wiped away your tears. "Undress me," he commanded, and you looked up at him nervously, but nodded, moving your hands to begin untying the laces of his tunic.

He watched you carefully, his hands stroking your sides and hips, his eyes burning a trail across your body. When the last lace was untied, you slid the fabric off his broad shoulders, taking in the sight of him, the expanse of pale skin.

You had never seen a naked man, and as your eyes trailed over his body, you couldn't help the blush that heated your cheeks.

He was beautiful, the muscles stretched across his chest and stomach, and his arms were strong and defined. There was a dusting of hair on his chest, and a large scar across his shoulder and neck that made you reach out and trace your fingertips over the marred flesh.

He watched your face, amused by the look of innocence, enjoying how you explored his body with just a gentle touch.

"Do I meet your approval?" he smirked and you dropped your hand, looking away and blushing.

His hands went to your waist, his thumbs stroking the underside of your breasts, and his eyes followed their movements. He watched your nipples pebble under his gaze, the blush spreading across your chest, and he groaned softly.

"I need you to tell me what you like and what you don't," he said quietly, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

"I-I don't know," you replied, your hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders.

"Then we shall have to explore, hmm?" he grinned, and then his mouth was on yours, swallowing your gasp.

He was gentle, his lips pressing soft kisses against yours, he was smiling as you tried to mimic his movements.

You were unsure where to put your hands, so they remained clutching at his shoulders, and Daemon chuckled, breaking the kiss and looking down at you with amusement.

He gripped your waist and lifted you up easily, your legs wrapping around his hips automatically, and he carried you over to the bed.

He laid you down and covered your body with his, kissing you slowly and deeply. Your hands were now roaming across his back, exploring the expanse of muscle.

When his lips left yours, trailing kisses down your neck, you were breathing heavily, your body on fire, a strange pressure building between your legs.

His lips continued their journey south, kissing the swell of your breasts, and he cupped them in his large hands, pushing them together and pressing soft kisses against your flesh.

He watched you as he ran his tongue across your nipple, and the sound you made had him groaning, his mouth sucking the peak into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the bud.

"Daemon," you gasped, the sensations were too much, and his name on your lips had him smirking against your skin.

He released the nipple with a pop, blowing cold air over the wet peak, watching the goosebumps rise, and the nipple pucker.

"It seems you like this," he chuckled, and he began to move to the other breast, giving it the same treatment.

You were panting, the pressure between your legs increasing, you rubbed your thighs together, trying to alleviate the feeling.

Daemon's eyes flicked down, noticing the movement, and he grinned, his hands gripping your hips, stilling your movements.

His kisses continued their journey south, his tongue trailing a line between your breasts and down your stomach. When he was about to reach the apex of your thighs, you shut your legs and grabbing his hair, trying to pull him away.

"What are you doing?" you asked, panicked, and he looked up at you, raising an eyebrow.

You had a basic understanding on how a man and woman make a child, but this act was something you had never heard of.

"I'm going to kiss you here," he murmured, his lips trailing soft kisses along your lower stomach, and your head fell back against the pillow, your grip loosening on his hair.

"I...I don't understand," you whispered, and he chuckled, biting and sucking on the delicate skin.

"You'll see," he promised, and his hands moved under your thighs, pushing them up and spreading them open, and you blushed, embarrassed and ashamed at how exposed you were. No one had ever seen you like this before, and your whole body was on fire.

You gasped when his mouth made contact with the sensitive flesh between your legs, his tongue flicking out and tasting the wetness. Your hands shot to his hair again, but instead of pulling him away, you pushed his face closer, moaning when you felt him licking a stripe up your slit.

His eyes were dark and hooded, and he watched your every reaction, enjoying how sensitive you were, how innocent. You were squirming and panting in his arms, your back arching off the bed when his tongue circled the small nub, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

He held you still, keeping your thighs open, as his mouth feasted on you. You were writhing and gasping his name, and he was moaning against your skin, loving the taste of you.

You felt something building, something deep in the pit of your stomach, it was frightening and exhilarating, and you didn't know what was happening.

Your legs kicked, your hips bucking and you were moaning, the pressure increasing, and you were clawing at his head, his biceps, anywhere you could reach.

His large hands spread you open, his tongue circling your opening, pushing in slightly, and it was enough to have the coil inside you snapping, and you let out a loud moan, the waves of pleasure washing over you.

Your thighs were shaking and Daemon released his grip, letting you close them as you caught your breath.

You had never felt anything like that before, and when you finally opened your eyes, you were met with his violet ones, sparkling with mirth and a hint of smugness.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" he smirked, and he was kissing you again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, a heady mix of sweetness and salt.

You kissed him back eagerly, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, and he chuckled, nipping at your bottom lip.

His kisses were more urgent, and when his lips began to wander again, you tugged at his shoulders, trying to get him to stop.

"Why do you still fear me?" he asked, his forehead resting against yours, and you shrugged, unable to explain why.

"I... I don't know," you admitted, and he grinned, his hand going between your legs, his finger running a circle around the small bud.

You gasped and jerked your hips, you were more sensitive than before, and his touch was making you tremble.

He smiled at your reaction, continuing his slow, gentle circles, "This is the source of all your pleasure," he whispered, his mouth close to your ear. "As well as here..."

His fingers moved lower, tracing the entrance to your sex, and you whined as he slipped a finger inside you. Your hands clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, and he began to move his finger, slowly sliding it in and out.

"It may hurt a little," he admitted, watching your face carefully, and you swallowed hard, trying to adjust to the feeling. "But it will get better, and then the pain will fade."

You nodded, his words reassuring, and he pressed a kiss to your lips. He continued his gentle thrusts, watching your face closely, and when you were beginning to relax, he slid another finger inside.

"My sweet little wife," he purred against your ear, his mouth pressing kisses against your neck.

His thumb began rubbing slow circles on the nub, and you gasped, the feelings returning. You felt the coil beginning to tighten again, and your walls clenched around his fingers.

He smiled at how responsive you were becoming, how you were grinding against his hand, trying to seek out more. So shy and innocent, yet so desperate for him.

His hand withdrew and you whined, opening your eyes and glaring at him, but he just smirked, bringing his hand up to his mouth, and licking his fingers clean. You turned a deep shade of red, looking away, and he laughed.

He sat up, his fingers going to the laces of his breeches, and you watched, biting your lip. You had felt his hard length against you, but seeing it was a whole different experience.

Your eyes were wide and fearful, and Daemon couldn't deny that he liked how you looked at him. It was a mixture of awe, desire, and a little bit of terror. He knew how big he was, and the first time with him would not be easy.

"We'll take it slow," he promised, his fingers caressing your cheek, and you nodded, the trust in your eyes making his heart ache, he would try his best not to betray it.

He pushed his breeches down his legs, and kicked them off, settling his body between your spread legs, his large cock pressing against your wet sex.

You were trembling, and Daemon leaned down, pressing his lips against yours.

"Relax, byka ābrazȳrys {sweet wife}," he whispered against your lips, and you nodded, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, your nails digging into his arms.

Daemon gripped the base of his cock, his other hand hooking your leg around his hip, and then he was guiding himself inside you.

You felt a sharp, burning pain, and you cried out, clinging to him. He kissed your cheek and whispered sweet nothings in your ear, continuing his gentle thrusts.

He was barely halfway inside and you were gasping, the pain too much. You tried to push him away, but he shushed you, his hips moving in a slow and steady rhythm.

His mouth capturing yours in a slow and deep kiss, a hand moving between you to stroke your little nub. You let out a soft moan and he smiled against your lips, his fingers stroking faster.

"That's it," he breathed, and he pushed forward, fully sheathing himself inside you, and you moaned, the pain fading as his fingers continued their movements.

He was still, his lips leaving yours and trailing kisses across your cheeks and neck. Your skin was pink, flushed, and you were panting, your hands still clinging to his arms.

He waited until your walls stopped clenching around him, and when he felt you relax, he started moving.

His movements were slow, careful, and his fingers never stopped rubbing slow circles. The pain faded, and as you grew accustomed to the sensation of being stretched, a new feeling began to build.

"There, not so bad, is it?" he murmured against your skin, and you shook your head, his thrusts getting harder, faster.

Your hands moved up to his shoulders, and his mouth captured yours in a deep kiss, swallowing your moans. He was moving with purpose, pressing himself against the spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

He broke the kiss, his eyes boring into yours, and you blushed, unused to having someone look at you like that. His gaze was full of lust and desire, and you couldn't look away, even if you wanted to. You were moaning his name, begging for him to go faster, harder, and he grinned, happy that you were enjoying it.

"Pleasure, you see, is a tool," he said, his voice low and husky, his eyes flashing dangerously. "It can be used to break or bind, and I am going to bind you to me, my dōna byka ābrazȳrys {sweet little wife}."

His thrusts were punishing, and you were gasping, clinging to him for dear life. His mouth was hot and wet against your skin, leaving love bites wherever he could reach.

Your hands moved to his hair, tugging hard, and he groaned. You smiled at his response, tugging a little harder, and his hips jerked, and he chuckled at your aggression.

"You're a fast learner," he groaned, and you couldn't help but giggle, and he growled, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

"Oh, you'll pay for that," he muttered against your lips, and you were smiling, your giggles turning to moans.

He sat up a little, pinning you down with one hand splayed across your chest, his hips rolling slowly. His eyes were raking over your body, admiring how beautiful you were, flushed and sweaty.

You were watching him too, his muscles rippling as he moved, the way his chest heaved, his face flushed, and the way his cock glistened as it slid in and out of you.

You reached a hand down, trailing it down his abs, and he smiled at the gesture. You were getting bolder, and he enjoyed it, enjoying how eager you were becoming.

He slowed his pace, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder, and your eyes widened. He leaned down, pressing his body against yours, and captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

You could feel something building again, that exquisite coiling sensation, and you were gasping, your walls fluttering around him. He was moaning, his breath hot against your skin, his thrusts becoming erratic.

You felt the coil snap, your body shaking and trembling, the pleasure washing over you, and your nails were digging into his back.

He groaned, burying his face in your neck, his hands clutching at your body. Your tight walls were squeezing him, and he couldn't hold back anymore, spilling his seed deep inside you.

You felt his warm release, and it felt strange, but not unpleasant, and you were both breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath.

He kissed you again, gently and sweetly, and you responded, sighing softly. When he pulled away, he was smiling, and he rolled off of you, lying on his back beside you.

You were blushing, suddenly feeling shy, and he laughed, reaching out and pulling you into his side and kissing the top of your head.

"Was that so bad?" he asked, and you giggled, hiding your face in his chest.

"No, not at all," you mumbled, and he grinned, placing a warm hand on your stomach.

"I wonder if we made a child tonight," he mused, his fingertips gently caressing the soft skin.

You placed your hand on his, the thought of creating a new life was both frightening and exciting, and you smiled up at him.

"I hope we have many," you murmured, and his eyes widened slightly, his smile genuine, and he squeezed you gently.

"We will have to try harder then," he smirked, and his hand trailed lower, making you squeal.

He pulled you on top of him, and you were both smiling and laughing, the world falling away as he kissed you again.

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oceantornadoo · 3 months

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marry me. (simon riley x f!reader)

simon riley is a dick, slight dacryphilia, over usage of “oh.”, reader does not understand this man is obsessed, marital abuse joke (he’s a dick)

—

“simon, would you ever,” deep breath, “ever want to get married?”

you focused your gaze on your hands, clenching and unclenching. deep breaths, in and out. you’d rehearsed the question for days, phrasing and everything. “doesn’t have to be with me of course, but maybejustingeneral?”

simon almost laughed, would have if explaining the story to anyone else. his sweet little dove, all moisturized in prim pajamas, springing marriage on him right as he got into bed. asking, almost pleading, as if you hadn’t been his since that first glance, that first brush of skin against gloved hands. but, you had asked about getting married in general, and well, he had to answer the exact question at hand.

“no.”

oh. well, some part of you had expected that. and of course, the legalities of you marrying a dead man had to be considered. you weren’t even sure if you two were official either, so the question must have freaked him out. you mentally deleted the wedding pinterest board in the back of your head, clearing white flowers from your vision. so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice simon turn on the bedside lamp, sitting up straight.

“not in general.” he liked watching you squirm, golden light spilling around the room, encircling you like a halo. simon could have sworn there were tears forming in your eyes, the thought so compelling he felt himself get half-hard. your lover waited patiently, spine made of steel as he watched you go through options mentally, contingency plan after plan. he didn’t want to marry you, so now what?

“well simon, i really do care for you but i can’t not -“ he cut you off. “said in general. ‘fore you. i’d marry you.” oh. oh. he cracked a smirk, full with idiocy. you turned behind you, grabbed your pillow, and whacked him in the face. (he didn’t even have the decency to pretend to fall over).

“‘s that for? thought you wanted to marry me, dove. tha’s practically marital abuse.” you couldn’t even bring yourself to laugh, throat still choked up from almost breaking up with him two seconds ago. you shook your head, watching your reflections in the mirror instead. “it’s not a joke, si. can’t just say that shit with a laugh.” well. guess you didn’t find it as funny as he did. how absolutely absurd it was to imagine simon not marrying you, not claiming you in every way possible with a ring on your finger, a change in name, and maybe a baby in a few years. of course you were going to be his wife. what other option was there?

“c’me here.” he dragged you into his lap, strong hands encircling your waist and pulling you into him with ease. you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, suddenly annoyed at your earlier reaction, all tears and feelings in the face of his smirk. “marriage is important to me, ok? i’m just sensitive about it.” he kissed your forehead, then rested his chin on top of it as you tried to burrow deeper into his skin. his hands were still at your waist, rubbing small circles, lulling you into a sense of calm. “‘m dead serious, dove. jus’ caught me off guard you felt the need t’ ask.” what did that mean? had he already been planning on marrying you? why was this stupid stupid man incapable of communication? instead of asking all these extremely pertinent questions, you settled for a quiet “oh.” he huffed at your lack of words. “bought a ring a month after we met if we’re bein’ honest.” oh. you were moving, simon’s hands readjusting to cradle your face, focusing your gaze on him. “i’ll do whatever flowers an’ cultural shit you want. the whole nine yards. y’ve been mine since that first smile, dove. whatever you need to make it official, ‘m here. laughed cuz in my mind, it already is. make sense?” you nodded, still not trusting your words. his face, stony as ever, gave no other answers. simon gave you a quick peck, then reached over to turn the lamp off.

“go’on. time to sleep, wife.”

oh.

—

i’m such an oh. truther. sorry for the over usage lol

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod 141 #ghost call of duty #tornadothoughts #fluff #why is he so mean #just be my husband #not that hard like ???#simon ghost riley cod #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost imagine #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader

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lovelettersfromluna · 5 months

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Too Sweet

Summary: Getting divorced from your ex wife after a measly two years of marriage wasn’t exactly your plan, so now you’re packing up and moving back to your quiet small town, will old flings bring back even older feelings?

an: Count on me to hop from dark brooding vampire Ellie to high school sweethearts Ellie within the same month. Let’s just be completely honest, are you even apart of this community if you haven’t dabbled in mechanic!ellie? Long story short, I’m a sucker for a summer romance, so I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: MDNI!! eventual smut in later chapters!!, this one is sickly sweet I’m sorry (but also very angsty), reader is a bit of a tough cookie at the beginning of this (her hearts broken and her walls are back up what do you want me to do), mentions of cheating (no main characters don’t worry, mentions of alcohol consumption (all characters are 21+ ofc), lots of flashbacks, lots of kissing, pet names (baby, princess, angel, and a few special ones), mentions of cigarettes, pls lmk if I missed anything!!

Read part 2 here!!

The summer breeze was cool against your body, the linen blanket protecting your bare legs from the prickly grass, the stars even seemed extra brighter, almost putting on a show for you and Ellie as you both gazed up at them.

The summer after your senior year of high school seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. One moment, you were walking across the stage in front of your entire class, taking she diploma you’d worked for since you were in kindergarten, all of those countless years of school finally coming to that moment, and the next, you’re laid out on the ground in your backyard with Ellie, soaking in the feeling of your last night together before it was time to leave for college.

You noticed Ellie’s hand reach up, finger pointing to a small pair of stars at the very corner of the deep navy blue sky.

“See those two? Tucked away in the corner? I think that one’s us…” she hummed out. It sounded like she was sure of it too, like it was a well known fact that she was simply sharing with you. It makes you giggle, rolling over to straddle the girl beneath you.

And it’s like the very stars above are in her eyes when she’s looking up at you, her hands caressing your soft, bare thighs, watching as your hair frames your face oh so perfectly. One of her hands reaches up, tucking it behind your ear as she gives you a soft smile.

“Who told you could be so fuckin pretty?” She pouts out playfully, almost angry with how beautiful you are. It makes you roll your eyes, bringing your hand down and giving her cheek a soft pinch.

“Shut up…” you mumble out, quickly becoming shy beneath your girlfriend’s gaze.

In that moment, you realize just how much you’ll miss moments like this. You were going off to the big city to live your dreams and go to college, and Ellie was staying behind because frankly, school was never really her thing. You knew that when both your decisions had been made, that it would more than likely affect your relationship. The thought makes you frown, and Ellie notices immediately.

She’s giving your thigh a soft pinch, sitting up and giving you all her attention.

“I thought we said no pouting today…you promised” she sighs out, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. It doesn’t really help, your hands loosely wrapping around her shoulders as you stare down at her lap that you’re settled on.

“I just…know that everything will change tomorrow” you sigh out, a soft pout on your lips as you avoid Ellie’s gaze.

She hums out in understanding, listening to your worries, simply allowing you to voice them. She lets a moment pass by before she responds.

“It’ll only change if we let it…I’ll come visit you all the time, and you need to come back to bake me and my dad cookies” she hums out nonchalantly, giving you a gentle shrug, which only earns a soft huff and a nudge from you to her shoulder.

“I’m serious El…I hate the idea of being without you…” you huff out softly. She chuckles as you give her a shove before she leans in to give you another soft kiss.

“I am being serious…” she drawls out, pulling away from you and cupping your cheek softly, staring into your eyes with so much love and care, it was almost unbearable.

“You’ll always be my girl…you know that” her voice is above a whisper, as if you and her were the only two people in the world. Sat there, in the quiet back yard of your even quieter neighborhood, the wind chimes clanking together on the front porch, paired with the sound of the rustling of the trees in the breeze, all of it coming together to create something of a perfect lullaby that can only be described as Ellie.

And her words make your heart bloom, giving you the hope that you needed to wake up in the morning and start your journey as a small town girl in the big city, knowing that if all else fails, you’d always have your Ellie to look forward to and depend on when you needed her.

Your cheeks almost feel sore with how big you’re smiling, leaning in and pressing a loving kiss to your girlfriends mouth, to which she accepts gladly, strong hands on your hips as she pulls you down to lay on her chest as her back hits the ground softly.

“I love you so much, Ellie…” you sigh out against her lips, barely giving yourself enough time to say it between the passionate kiss you two share. It makes her smirk against your lips, nodding as she gives your waist a gentle squeeze.

“Love you more, dream girl..” she hums out against you as she practically drowns herself in you.

It’s funny, because while that all felt like it happened just yesterday, it had been almost five years since you’d last seen Ellie Williams in the flesh.

Because as most teenage girls do, they aim for the stars. They believe that the sky’s the limit in the adult world, and where there’s a will there’s a way, and tons of other stupid sayings that are just words used to promise yourself something that may or may not happen.

All of it was just that, words that didn’t amount to anything.

Because you didn’t expect for the city and college to be the way that it was. The first night you moved into your apartment was one of the most hectic you’d ever experienced. You were a girl from a comically small town, catapulted into this fast paced world filled with adults who were going and coming from work, other students trying to make a name for themselves, and people simply trying to live.

To put things into simpler terms, you just weren’t available enough to keep Ellie in your life.

While she spoke to you on the phone almost the entire night of your first night in your apartment, soothing you and helping you sleep, and she made sure to text you in the morning and make sure you had everything you needed, your responses on the other end just became less and less frequent. Phone calls slowly stopped, text messages weren’t getting answered, and you gradually disappeared from Ellie’s life, the city swallowing you hole and keeping you away from her.

The worst part about it? You barely even noticed Ellie wasn’t in your life anymore. Between your classes and your job, you barely had enough time to breath let alone keep a relationship with your girlfriend.

It wasn’t until about a year into city life that it all happened. You were so absent, that you didn’t even realize Ellie sent you a message one day saying it was best to just be friends rather than try to keep a relationship, wishing you the best in a way that sounded far too understanding.

Before you knew it, you found a girl to take Ellie’s place in your heart. She was smart, and kind, and from the moment you laid eyes on her in a bar in the city one night after exams, you knew she had to be yours.

Soon enough she was, the two of you moving a bit too fast for your parents taste. Getting married fresh out of college wasn’t exactly what they wanted for you, but you were happy! And that’s all that truly mattered to you.

Man, should you have listened to them.

Two years. Two fucking years with the girl you were planning on devoting your loyalty to for the rest of your life was all you had, all you were given until you caught her fucking her coworker into the mattress of the bed you two shared. To say you didn’t see it coming would be a lie. Your ex wife was a fucking moron who couldn’t lie to save her ass. You’d only been gaslighting yourself for the last six months of your marriage into thinking she was just going through a rough patch or even planning some romantic getaway for the two of you.

No romantic getaways though, only heartbreak.

It was like you couldn’t even cry when you saw it, your body freezing at the sight of them in your bed once you followed the very loud trail of moans leading to your bedroom. The idiots, they didn’t even have the decency to do it in a fucking hotel or something.

So as your wife’s (ex wife) chasing you through your apartment, watching as you silently grab your suitcase and throw your things into it, the girl on your bed watching with wide eyes as she grips your favorite silk sheets against her chest to cover herself, you only truly have one thing on your mind.

“Come on baby…I…it was one time! You have to believe me!” She’s calling out like a wailing child, and the voice you once loved with all your heart sounds like nails on a chalk board. You swiftly tug your wedding ring off of your finger, tossing it onto the coffee table.

“My lawyer will send over the divorce papers” you speak out clearly, wanting her to hear ever fucking syllable that exits your mouth before you leave the apartment with the door slamming behind you, muffling her pathetic pleas behind the door.

You needed to go home.

Driving back to your home town was something you’d always imagine would be therapeutic. You imagined yourself packing your kids into a car with your wife, and making the drive all the way back to show them where their mommy grew up, allowing them to see a side of you that not many got to see.

This drive was nothing like that.

Instead, you were alone. Your old Cadillac your dad gifted you as a graduation present was practically begging you to get back on the road again. While it felt good to drive instead of taking a bus or a train, the circumstances made your heart ache.

While you didn’t cry when you initially found out about your wife’s affair, it all seemed to hit you on the drive back home, crashing down on you and making it hard to breath. You had to pull over and collect yourself for a good thirty minutes because the tears in your eyes were blurring your vision too much to drive.

You couldn’t even feel excited to go home, not with the overbearing weight of heartbreak leaving an ugly feeling in your chest.

It’s like your town is frozen in time. The same stores are there, the same shady trees, everything is just how you left it. It comes as a relief to you, because if your town had undergone a shitty futuristic makeover by some big corporate asshole looking for new business opportunities, you probably would’ve lost your mind.

The street where your house sits is just the same. There are kids riding their bikes up and down the quiet block, reminding you so much of yourself when you were their age. They even wave to you, giggling and smiling at you as if you’d been there the whole time, even though you’re sure a handful of them were born well after you’d left town.

And there your house sits, quiet and empty, practically waiting for someone to step in and fill her up. She’d been void of any of your family members ever since your parents became empty nesters and decided to travel the world. They of course let you know that the house was more than yours when they found out about your divorce. They told you they’d been needing someone to step in and take over for a while now since they’d been gone, that you were just the person they needed.

You knew they were saying that just to make you feel better.

Stepping out of your car and looking up at the house that you once called home makes your emotions all the more intense. It makes you feel old, but it makes you feel like you’d moved too fast all at the same time, your feelings contradicting each other in that sense. You have to take a deep inhale, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill out onto your cheeks as you took a moment longer to take in the big house before you decided it was time to start moving your stuff into the house.

Besides a new couch and some new paint, the house is virtually the exact same as the way you left it. It makes your heart ache, because you realize you haven’t been back since the night you left when you were eighteen years old. You were too eager, too excited to leave behind the life your parents had built around you from the day you were born, that you neglected to even visit the world that they’d created for you.

It makes you feel like a bad daughter.

And suddenly you’re crying again, with no one to hold or console you, remind you that everything is fine and it only feels like the world is crashing down on you. Your life had gone in a way that you’d never expected, taking a course that you never saw for yourself, and it had its way of ignoring everything that you’d achieved, instead making you feel like a failure.

Your bedroom hasn’t changed either. The same shitty posters and figurines are still littered along your walls, your desk and your dresser, reminding you of all the silly little interests and hobbies you had as a young girl.

All the ones you’d forgotten as an adult.

It makes your heart ache, because it feels like everything is just crashing down on you and making you feel like all the things you’d been ignoring are practically begging, forcing you to acknowledge them, forcing you to feel them.

That first night back consists of you crying in the bath, followed by crying in your bed until you’ve fallen asleep.

You don’t leave the house for a few days, almost a week, thanking the forces of the internet that DoorDash had come to your small town, allowing you to feed yourself without the consequences of stepping out into town.

You weren’t ready for that. You weren’t ready for the people of your town to recognize you, to see the once happy, golden girl of their town that made it out of it all to get to the big city, back. Now lacking that sparkle she used to have in her eyes.

They all cared about you deeply, you could see it in the way they asked your parents constantly about you. But you couldn’t face them, not yet.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of your things that you’d shipped down to arrive at your house, a big truck stopping outside your house one early morning before setting everything in your garage. Once they left, you were faced with the task of moving all of the shit you’d accumulated in the city, into your new home.

And what a surprise it was when you were just about to grab a big box, only to see a familiar old grey truck pull up into your driveway next to your car.

Joel hadn’t changed at all. He was still just as old and burly as you remembered, his eyes crinkling at the edges with those familiar little wrinkles and his smile shining through the thick hair covering the bottom half of his face.

“Well would you look at who the cat dragged in” he chuckles out as he steps out of his car, old boots settling down onto the hot concrete of your driveway as his hand rested on the top of the car door.

His presence is enough to light up your face, quickly setting down the box as you rush out of the garage to meet the man outside of his car. The feeling of his strong arms wrapping around you in what could only be described as the closest thing to what hugging a bear feels like, temporarily mends your broken heart.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again…it’s good to have you back kid…” he sighs out, chin pressed to the top of your head as you press your head against his chest. You can smell the faint scent of pine and cigarettes, further proving how much Joel has managed to stay the same since you’d last seen him.

You don’t trust yourself to respond, feeling the familiar tightening of your throat, the burning at your eyes and the tingle in your nose.

Joel had become somewhat of a second father to you, what with you and Ellie growing up together and all. Between your dad and hers being best friends, and you and Ellie being as close as you were, only to end up dating in high school, it wasn’t exactly a shock that you two had become so close with each others families.

Despite the heat of the summer time sun beating down on the both of you, you can’t bring yourself to let go of him. It feels like he’s the first person that’s hugged you in a long time and you’re fighting back the urges to cry with a fucking bat.

He chuckles softly, giving you a gentle squeeze before he pulls back, looking down into your eyes only to see that they’re pooling up with tears. You remind him so much of that little girl that was in and out of his home, stealing his daughter’s heart and running off with it to the big city to chase your dreams.

He can see so clearly just how much you’re hurting.

It makes him frown, bringing his hand up to ruffle your hair playfully.

You sniffle, biting back your tears as you stare up at the man. “What are you doing here?” You croak out, far too choked up to get a proper sentence out.

He hums softly as he looks up at the house, and then to the boxes filling up your garage, which he gestures to. “Your folks gave me a call…said you’d been comin’ home…they asked if I’d be able to help you get settled in” he explained, his eyes squinting a bit as if to size up the amount of things you had to take up before he gave a firm nod, as if confirming he’d be more than able to.

He looks back down at you, giving you his signature warm smile before he continues. “I was indeed free…so here I am” he confirmed with a chuckle.

You simply blink up at him, trying to gauge whether or not he knows, if your parents told him exactly why you were coming home along with telling him that you were coming back in the first place. Clearly you were moving back home, and he knew that you’d been married.

But he doesn’t say anything further. He doesn’t say he’s sorry, he doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He simply treats it like you’re just coming back home because you want to, not because you’re running away from something.

You decide to simply leave it at that.

Soon you’re giving him a soft smile, nodding as you look back at the boxes before leading him into the garage. You let out a soft sigh as you look at the work cut out for you two before you gesture towards them.

“It’s a lot, Mr. Miller…and I don’t expect you to help with everything so-“ he’s quickly cutting you off, the older man scoffing as he bends down to grab one of the bigger ones in a way that’s far too impressive for a man his age.

“Mr. Miller? The city went and made you all formal? Now…come inside and show me where you want these” he hums out casually, making you giggle softly before you grab a box yourself, moving to walk in front of him before you nod inside.

“Fine…but at least let me feed you once we’re finished” you make sure to add before leading him inside and show him where to place the box he had.

Soon, it’s nearly mid day and your garage is free of boxes. You almost don’t believe how quickly you and Joel were able to get all of the boxes in, the man moving quick for his age. You had to bite your tongue from mentioning it, knowing that he’d scoff and tell you he could run circles around the young kids asses any given day.

He of course lets you hold up your end of the bargain, making him a sandwich and some freshly squeezed lemonade just in time for lunch. Sitting down with him at your kitchen table makes you face just how lonely you’d been in that house. Sure, you didn’t mind doing things on your own, you were by yourself for the first three years of college before you met your ex wife. There was just something about being in your childhood home that was once bustling with life, always buzzing with the sounds of a family, now only filled with you and the soft patter of your feet against the wooden floor when you had to get from one point to another, that seemed to leave your heart feeling even more hollow than it already had become.

You knew that with some food and some spare time to simply sit with each other, conversation would erupt between you and Joel, so it didn’t come to a surprise when he finally mentioned the elephant in the room.

The plates were filled with crumbs and some discarded sandwich crust, glasses half filled with ice and a few lemon edges as you sat across from each other, the warm summer breeze blowing the lacy curtains further into the house.

“I don’t mean to pry…but what made you decide to come home?” He questions innocently. You know he isn’t doing it to gossip or lurk too deep in places that he doesn’t belong, he’s simply curious. He could see that look in your eyes when he first got there, and he knew that there was something behind them begging to get out, begging to be heard.

It makes you hum, your fingers lazily wrapped around the white and yellow striped straw in your cup, swirling around the remnants of your drink before you let out a soft sigh.

“I um…my wife and I got divorced…” your words trail off, almost ashamed to say them. You let out a soft scoff, nodding as you catch Joel’s shocked face before you continue.

“She was sleeping with her coworker…in our bed…” you pour salt on the wound with that one, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you sigh, finally looking over at Joel to see he’s giving you and apologetic frown, his hand reaching over to grip your hand on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Kid…I….fuck…I’m sorry” he tries, and you’re shaking your head to stop him before he can even continue further.

“I shouldn’t have married her so quickly…my parents told me it wasn’t a good idea but I…was too eager” you mumble out with a shrug before you give him a soft smile, your hand moving up to give his a squeeze instead, wanting to assure the now sad man that everything was fine.

“I’m okay Joel…really…if anything it’s karma for what I did to Ellie-“ he’s quickly cutting you off, seeing the way you’re simply talking out of your ass at this point.

He’s shaking his head, settling back in his chair before he cuts you off. “No…nuh-uh…Ellie has never blamed you for how things ended and you know that” his voice gets a bit more firm, wanting you to fully understand what he’s trying to convey.

You can’t help but frown as you stare down at the old kitchen table, far too deep in thought to even listen to the man. He can tell, he can see that you’re zoning out and getting deep in your head, so he pushes himself forward, resting his forearms on the table as he gets a bit closer to you.

“She knew how much leaving meant to you…she’s never once blamed you for anything” he tries again, this time trying to convey to you how truthful his words were, how much he truly meant them.

Hearing her name only makes your heart hurt more.

Because it felt like the universe was punishing you for not choosing her, for choosing the wrong girl instead of the one that you’d be given, the one that was simply perfect for you. You knew you were wrong for it, but was all of this necessary?

You don’t say anything, simply giving the man a soft smile before you nod, moving to grab the empty plates and cups and moving them to the sink, desperately trying to escape the conversation.

You hear him hum softly behind you, knowing it means he’s going to speak further. “She owns the car shop in town….bought it off of Mr. Johnson a little while after you left…” he explains.

The thought of Ellie had crossed your mind the moment you came to terms with the fact that you were moving back home. She crossed your mind a lot, but knowing that there may or may not would come a time where you’d have to face her again had your stomach in knots. You knew little to nothing about Ellie now, you didn’t know what she was doing or whether or not she was still living in town, you didn’t even know if she was with someone or not.

So to hear her father confirming that she was in fact still there, still around and not angry or bitter over the way things happened, it felt all too much like Joel trying to play Cupid between his daughter and her high school girlfriend.

His words make you freeze for a moment, your hands stilling against the dish and the sponge in your hand. He notices this, standing up from his seat at the table and moving to stand next to you, his palms pressing against the counter as his neck cranes down to eye you carefully.

“You should stop by…say hello…if you want” he assures you, wanting you to know that it was completely up to you and what you were comfortable with. You finally look up, giving the older man a soft smile before nodding.

“I…thanks Joel…for everything” you manage, finishing up the dishes before you grab a nearby rag to dry your hands. He smiles warmly as he nods before he brings his hand up to check his watch, sighing softly as he nods his head towards the door.

“I’ll be heading out now then…I have some things I need to take care of in town” he explains, looking down at you and giving you a slight nod. “You call me if you need anything missy…you hear?” He firmly reminds you before cracking a smile, reaching out and giving your arm a gentle squeeze before you walk him out of your house.

That night, Joel’s words echo throughout your head, and all you can think about is seeing Ellie again. Should you even consider it? Was it even a good idea for a newly divorced girl to be dabbling in the world of her old flings? Her first fling to be exact?? It all somehow sounded like a recipe for disaster.

Yet you couldn’t stop yourself from mentally searching through your closet for an outfit to wear on your first official outing.

After about another week of sulking in your house, you finally haul an old pair of denim shorts and a nice white linen blouse and force yourself out of your front door. Sure, you would’ve preferred crawling under your sheets and sobbing into your pillow, wondering why this had to happen to you, and why you couldn’t have a long happy marriage like everyone else, but healing had to start somewhere. You knew that you couldn’t do any of that if you continued wallowing in your own self pity.

The sun does a good job at pulling you out of your home. The weather was too nice to stay stuck inside of an old house all day. Summer vacation was in full swing, paired with the neighborhood kids bringing out the old sprinkler and everything, you’re sure you can even hear the ice cream truck coming down the road when you’re pulling out of your driveway.

It’s like you can finally see the beauty of your little town whenever you’re put together with the intention of coming out. It’s almost like the opposite of living life with rose colored glasses, instead you were blinded by a grey fog that came with your divorce, keeping you from truly seeing all that your home town had to offer.

Being in town does more for you than you’d ever imagine. Visiting the old faces that were once apart of your day to day almost makes it feel like you’d never left. Mrs. Charlotte still owns the little produce store, you’d always visit her after school and on the weekends because she always had some of the best strawberries no matter the season. The smile on her face when she saw you was one like no other, the woman grabbing you and pulling you into her chest the moment she saw you walk into her shop.

Mr. Johnny still owned the local photography store, he gave you your first job when you were sixteen years old. He’s partially to thank for helping you pay for college. You couldn’t believe your eyes when his little girl that you used to babysit was getting ready for her final year in high school, working in the same position you were when you were her age.

And Mr. and Mrs. Peters made sure to stop you when you were passing by their old pet store, Mrs. Peters unable to believe her eyes when she saw the golden girl passing by her old shop. She scolded you for not writing her earlier, letting her know that you were coming into town. You make it up to her by telling her you’re here to stay, and that you’ll make it a point to have both her and her husband over for dinner one of these days whenever they’re free.

So? Nearly nothing has changed. Sure, everyone’s gotten a bit older, but so have you. You’ve changed, and you’ve grown, and you’re so much different and so much more than the small towns golden girl that finally made it out to the big city, just to get her heart broken in the process of it all.

And that’s what you remind yourself as you find yourself pulling up to the familiar car shop that Joel had mentioned the week before.

It’s no surprise that Ellie ended up finding herself to be the owner of the local car shop in your town. She’d always loved cars, working on them, fixing them up, everyone in your school knew that if you had a problem with your vehicle, you’d call Ellie. She was the one that came together with your dad to fix his old Cadillac, fixing her up, turning her out and making her brand new for your adventures in the big city.

Standing in front of her shop makes your heart beat right out of your chest. But you’re here already, so you might as well just suck it up and walk right in.

As you do so, you can’t help but let the lingering thoughts take over. The suns already setting at this point, and you’re sure she’s close to closing up if she hasn’t already. What even was the point? Ellie probably didn’t even wanna see you! This was all Joel’s idea and what if he was just trying to make you feel-

“I’ll be right there!” You hear a familiar voice call out from the back, making your heart beat faster just from the sound of it.

She sounds the same, yet more mature. Her voice deeper with a bit of roughness to it, making her sound all the more irresistible. It makes you stand in the opened garage of her shop, surrounded by all of the cars that are opened up or hoisted up into the sky, your hands gripping your bag almost nervously as you stand there, frozen, unable to move.

Soon, she’s emerging from the back. She has a pair of navy overalls on, the sleeves tied around her waist, leaving her top half in a white wife pleaser, both of which were covered in motor oil and grease. Her arms are bigger, and covered in tattoos, something you remembered her saying she’d do the second she got the money for it. She’s taller too, and her hair is shorter, gone is the familiar pony tail she always had, instead it stops just at the nape of her neck, messily tossed into a bun while a few strands rests against her skin. her features stronger too, sharper.

She’s so different, yet so similar to the Ellie you remember, your Ellie. She still has the power of taking your breath away with a single glance.

“Well I’ll be damned…is that the dream girl?” She chuckles out with a soft smirk on her lips, pulling a red rag from her back pocket to wipe her hands clean. The nickname leaves goosebumps trailing down your skin.

Dream girl.

You recall the nickname from the many times you were with Ellie. Back when you two dated, she’d go on and on about how perfect you were, how she knew you were the girl of her dreams, animated into real life from the moment she laid eyes on you. You were the girl of her very dreams, and she never failed to remind you of that. Ever.

Hearing her call you that has your lips twitching up into a shy smile as you give her a shrug.

“In the flesh…” you mumble out, biting back an embarrassed giggle as the girl clearly drinks you in, eyes shamelessly raking up and down your body.

“Jesus…come here!” She groans out as she rushes towards you, strong arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you up, spinning you around as she keeps you in her arms. It makes you laugh loudly, a deep guttural laugh leaving your lips, possibly for the first time since your divorce.

The feeling of Ellie’s strong arms wrapping around your body feels like your missing puzzle piece has been given back to you, like you’ve been reunited with a part of you that you left behind far too long ago.

But she’s so much stronger now, and she’s older and…and…

It all just feels so right.

“Ellie stop! Put me down, you’re filthy” you whine out, landing a playful slap to her sweaty arm as she chuckles, finally setting you back down onto the floor.

She chuckles softly, settling her hands on either one of her hips as she lets out a sigh, a soft smile on her face. “I’m surprised the town hasn’t thrown a damn parade when they heard you’d be here…my god” she sighs out, practically in awe with your very appearance.

“Come on back, I’m just finishing some paperwork before I close” she nods her head to the back where she was moments ago, which you quickly follow her as she guides you.

Her garage is empty except for her, most likely working overtime after her employees had gone home, which was very much like Ellie. The walls are covered with the same posters of the bands you knew Ellie loved, as well as a healthy collection of vintage car photos, which isn’t a shock at all since those were always the center of Ellie’s car obsession.

The place seems nice and worn in, it suits Ellie in the best way.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear her let out a soft hum. She’s leaned up against her work table, wiping her hands off further with her red rag before she tosses it over her shoulder, crossing her toned arms across her chest as she eyes you fondly, a soft smile on her face.

“You haven’t changed one bit…” she hums out, eyes trailing on your face as she keeps that fine smile on hers. It makes you feel shy, the same way you felt all those years ago when your feelings for Ellie really started to shine through, and every little thing she’d say would have you giggling like an idiot.

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile as your top teeth sink into your bottom lip, shrugging as you move your hands up to loosely rest on your own arms.

“Please…the city has practically chewed me up and spit me out…I’m surprised I don’t have wrinkles yet” you huff softly, bringing your hand up to your forehead to make sure you weren’t frowning again, a habit you’d picked up recently.

Getting cheated on made you far too miserable.

She chuckles, shaking her head as her pink tongue darts out to lick her lips, still soaking you in like she would the sun.

“Nah…a face like that? Not even the city could ruin” she adds, giving you a small wink.

It warms you heart up in the best of ways, finally giving you a moment to stand still and enjoy life without letting the actions of your ex wife consume you. She makes you forget all about it, reminding you of a time where the thought of getting cheated on, didn’t even cross your mind.

You two stand there for a moment, seemingly taking each other in, enjoying the moment. It’s clear that she’s flirting, and it feels so similar to the days of your old life. It feels like the times where you and Ellie would spend hours talking outside your house or hers, when you’d shyly smile and giggle at one another when you were unsure of your feelings, when things were fresh.

You can tell Ellie feels it too, because she’s quick to blink a few times in your direction before she clears her throat, smile dropping as she turns around to busy herself with something on her desk.

“How’s that wife of yours? Sorry I couldn’t make it to the wedding��was um….was busy” she mumbles out.

Although her back is facing you, you can practically hear the way her eyebrows furrow and her lips twitch into a frown. It was a subject that you two hadn’t spoken about much. You’d told Ellie about your ex wife when you two first started dating, and you told her about the engagement and the wedding you’d been planning, because before anything else, Ellie was your friend, and you two shared everything with each other.

But you couldn’t ignore the almost nauseating weight that settled in when you spoke to her about it. The way she tried to seem as happy for you as she could without letting underlying feelings bubble up to the surface.

You could sense that same weight now, as she asked you about the woman that broke your heart.

It rips you away from the little fantasy you’d been given with Ellie, reminding you of the dark reality of why you’d returned, and what it was that had forced you out of the city and back to your home town. Thinking about telling Ellie about what happened and actually doing it were two very different things, and the seconds of silence that passed between you began to turn into minutes, minutes where you silently begged to disappear into thin air instead of admitting to Ellie what it was that happened.

“Um…she…” you stuttered out, struggling for a moment before your eyes fluttered shut, and you took a deep inhale, grounding yourself before you finally spoke once more.

“We got divorced.” You finally manage to get out, your balled up fists finally relaxing down at your sides as your shoulders deflate, the weight of your situation finally releasing itself from your body as you admitted it to her.

You see her still for a moment, movements halting completely as she struggles to comprehend what it was that you’d said, what it was that she was hearing.

Hearing about your girlfriend was a jab to the chest, but it wasn’t like she didn’t see it coming. Plus, it’s just a girlfriend! And you were all the way in the city anyways, who was Ellie to be jealous of that? Hearing about your engagement was also fairly hard, it wasn’t like she spent countless nights at the bar drowning out her sorrows over the one that got away. Seeing your actual wedding invitation though? Man, that was fucking hard. Ellie isn’t entirely sure how she got through that part. Ignoring it was the easiest way how.

Ellie would spend night after night wishing on a single star that you’d get divorced from that woman, knowing deep down she wasn’t the right one for you. Call it a gut feeling or call it jealousy, whatever it was, there was a constant lingering feeling that Ellie had ever since you’d gotten married that left a bitter taste in her mouth, one that she felt wouldn’t end well with that girl.

And now you’re here, standing in the middle of her old car shop, telling her that you were in fact divorced, and one of the countless stars in the sky has listened to her.

But she can’t move. She’s frozen in place as she eyes the papers on her desk, that now have no purpose to her since the only thing she can focus on is your words. It makes you nervous, and you take it was an opportunity to clear your throat, wanting desperately to cut the silence in half.

“Your dad told me you owned this place now…so I thought I’d visit…” you mumble out awkwardly, struggling to find the words to say to Ellie as she simply stood there, back turned to you for what felt like an eternity.

She inhales deeply, finally turning around to face you. You weren’t entirely sure what you expected her expression to read, but you’re surprised to see that she’s frowning, a soft sigh leaving her lips as she leans her palms back on her desk, shaking her head a she eyes you.

“Always knew those city girls were no good…I’m sorry sweetheart” she sighs out genuinely. You give her a shrug, shaking your head as you send a half smile her way.

“I’m just glad it happened sooner than later…saying I have an ex wife is cool though” you snort out, which earns a chuckle from Ellie as she nods in agreement.

“Very cool…makes you sound all grown up” she winks at you before she nods her head at you. “You still staying at your old place? Or did you find somethin’ in town” she hums out, clearly trying to change the subject for your own comfort.

And hers….

You hum softly as you nod, gesturing off to the direction of your home. “Yup…my parents treat the place like it’s a vacation home…I was practically taking it off their hands” you sigh out in fake annoyance, which makes Ellie laugh softly as she nods.

“Man…haven’t seen those two in a couple of years. You’d think they’re on their honeymoon” she adds, making you giggle as well.

The summer breeze blows swiftly against your body, your hair blowing with it, fallen blossoms from the apple trees in town dancing along your feet. It doesn’t help that you’re dressed in the same pair of denim shorts Ellie used to love so much, looking all too familiar to the girl of her passed, yet so different at the same time.

She stares at you shamelessly, smiling fondly as she simply takes you in.

You furrow your eyebrows, biting back a smile as you eye her closely. “What are you staring at, Williams?” You ask her, clearly teasing the girl as she gives you a shrug, biting down on her bottom lip as she gives you a smile.

“You expect me to not stare when a pretty girl is stood in my shop? What do you take me for” she shoots out far too smoothly, making you roll your eyes. You shoo your hand at her, turning around to make your way back to your car, knowing that if you stay any longer, you’ll probably end up getting charmed by Ellie all over again.

As if she hadn’t already done that the moment you laid eyes on her.

“I’m freshly divorced missy…not exactly the top choice at the market” you scold her jokingly, giving her a small wave as you walk out onto the curb, making your way back to your car.

“Just wanted to stop by and say hello…don’t wanna keep you any longer” you hum out, giving the girl a small smile as your hand reaches for the handle of your car.

Ellie is moving before she can think, eyes widening as she quickly follows you out to your car, her larger hand gently resting over your own as she moves to pull your car door open for you.

“My um…my number hasn’t changed…if you still have it and you wanted to talk…or hang out or something…” she mumbles out shyly. For a moment, you see her drop the smooth, suave demeanor she had mere moments ago, saying all the right things and strumming all the right chords. For a moment, she’s Ellie. She’s the Ellie that stuttered and struggled to get the words out when she asked you out the first time, or asked you to be her girlfriend.

She’s the Ellie that you make nervous.

“Do you…have my number still?” She asks nervously, worried she’d been reading into this all wrong. It makes you giggle, nodding as you lean your back against your car, staring up at the girl before you speak.

“Of course I have your number, Ellie…wouldn’t lose it for the world” you hum out as you give her a soft smile, which has her eyes twinkling as she gives you a small smile.

“Good…” she managed out as she watches you get into your car.

She hums as she leans down, pressing her arms against the edge of your window, looking into your car before she looks at you. You feel your insides burning at how fucking close she is at that.

“A buddy of mine s’got a gig down at the Copper Cat this Saturday…if you wanted to come out” she casually invites you, eyeing you closely to try and gauge your response to it.

Your eyes widen a bit at the mention of the old bar, memories swirling into your head like a hurricane. “The Copper Cat?? That place is still opened??” You practically shriek in shock of the old bar still being up and running. Your response makes Ellie chuckle as she nods.

“Yup…and it’s better than ever too. They remodeled last summer” she explains, you don’t miss the proud smile on her face as she practically beams at you. You giggle softly as you nod slowly before you hum, looking down at your lap for a moment as you thought about it a bit. Your ex girlfriend was inviting you to some mediocre show at an even more mediocre bar in the small corner of your town, and you were newly divorced…

What could go wrong with that

You smile up at her before giving her a nod. “Text me and let me know what time you’ll be there” you give her a nod, confirming that you’ll come. You can see the see the way her eyes practically twinkle at that, nodding eagerly as she smiles.

“I’ll pick you up” she quickly replied, leaving no room for you to decline, because she’d already pushing herself up and off of your window, giving you a bright smile as she nods her head in the direction of the main road.

“Go on…before I keep you here even longer than I’m supposed to” she gives you a wink, which sends your heart until a flurry of emotions, sparking it all up all over again before you roll your eyes playfully, and drive off after giving her a small wave goodbye, her smile seemingly seared into the forefront of your brain as you grinned like an idiot while making your way back home.

God…were you fucked.

This wasn’t a date.

This was simply two old friends catching up after a long time! Ellie had asked you to come out because she probably felt bad for you. She could probably see the tears stained into your cheeks and the absolute trail of sadness that followed you around and thought, ‘this girl could use a night out’, so she invited you.

This wasn’t a date.

It was a pity invite! A date would have been some place nice. Ellie was romantic, you knew that. She’d treated you better in your puppy love relationship than most girls did while you were in the city, so of course suggesting to go to the bar was keeping it friendly.

This wasn’t a date.

It wasn’t a date. It was just you going out to a bar because you’re single now and you can do what you want without feeling guilty or wrong for doing fun things. That’s all. It wasn’t a date at all.

But if it wasn’t a date…why were you so fucking nervous.

You visited Ellie at her shop on Monday, you weren’t set to see her again until Friday night, so why was it the only thing you could think of? You could only think of what to wear, how to act, if you should text her or not, would that be pushy? Would that be overstepping? She told you her number hadn’t changed! So obviously that meant she wanted you to text her….right?

Right?

God, who knew at this point. All you knew, was that you were set to see Ellie this weekend. Regardless of it being a date or not, it was nerve wracking. So when Friday afternoon finally rolls around, you find yourself partaking in things that are a steering a bit too close to pre date activities.

Such as making sure your entire body was nice and moisturized, but that was just for you! That wasn’t for Ellie to touch or squeeze…or making sure your hair was cleaned and styled, that’s just because you want to be presentable! You can’t let the people of your town see the mess your ex wife made. Or doing your makeup and picking out the perfect outfit. That was simply because…you wanted to! Nothing more, nothing less.

You settled on a simple yellow sundress with pink flowers, it hugs your middle perfectly and flows down to your calves, making it just enough to look like you put a bit of effort into your appearance. It almost felt like a breath of fresh air to haul on any old pair of shorts or a nice dress to go out, something the city rarely allowed. The city was too into appearances, everyone needing to wear the best clothes and the trendiest styles when setting foot outside, especially on a night out. It was fun, but it became exhausting after a while, all you wanted to do was to wear your comfy clothes without getting nasty looks.

The beauty of living in a small town.

When you’re finally ready, you catch a quick look at yourself in the mirror, more than happy with your overall appearance before you take a deep breath, and send Ellie a text.

Hii :)

I’m all ready whenever you wanna come by

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for Ellie to read and respond to your messages.

Awesome :)

I’m omw

You smile softly at her messages, heart beating a bit faster at the thought of her coming over as you click your phone shut, and move to sit in your living room to wait for the girl to arrive.

It’s almost comedic how quickly you move to sit on your couch, knee bouncing anxiously as you wait for the girl to pull up to your house. Sitting there gives you too much time to think, too. Because what if this is a bad idea, what if you’re just blinded by the manic excitement that comes with seeing Ellie again, the thrill of being with her, because you’re still very much heart broken, and it isn’t like everything will simply disappear once she’s-

And suddenly you can’t think anymore, because all you can hear is a firm knock at your front door, echoing through your house.

It catches the air in your lungs and practically runs with it, leaving you panicking as your eyes flutter between the front door and the clock, and you realize it’s been about fifteen minutes since Ellie’s texted you, and you’d just been sitting on your couch overthinking as always.

Your feet seem to have a mind of their own as they carry you to your front door, moving to open it before you can even come to terms with opening up for it.

And if you think Ellie looked good when you saw her at her shop? God…you didn’t know what good looked like until now.

The white t shirt she wears hugs her body beautifully, covered by an old leather jacket that fits her even better. Her toned thighs are clad in what you can only assume to be expensive blue denim jeans, simply by how perfectly they fit her. It’s all covered with a fucking cherry on top when you take in her black boots, and a singular silver necklace dangling from her neck.

You’re sure she’ll notice your heart beating out of your chest any second now.

She’s smiling brightly when she takes you in, eyes raking down your form before she chuckles. “Look at you…could almost pass for one of us small town folk in that one..” she hums out, nodding in approval at your laid back outfit.

It makes you roll your eyes, landing a playful nudge to the girls arm as you adjust your bag further on your shoulder. “Please…I dressed like this even when I lived out there” you try to defend yourself, giving her a small frown before you nod your head out to her car.

“Should we get going? Wouldn’t wanna miss the main act” you hum, wanting to get out of your house desperately.

Half of the reason being because you seriously needed to get out of your house and socialize with people that weren’t your mother’s porcelain figurines….

And the other half being you simply couldn’t handle the close proximity of someone as good looking as Ellie much longer.

She hums softly as she nods, stepping to the side and she gives you a bit of space to walk out of your house. “After you, city girl” she teases you once again, earning yet another look of warning from your end, which she simply giggles at.

You can’t contain the gasp you let out when you finally lay eyes on Ellie’s ride. The vintage black mustang practically sparkles in the low light of the afternoon sun. You can’t help yourself from reaching out and running your fingers along the shiny body of the car.

“Jesus Christ Ellie….if I knew you’d pick me up in this, I would’ve dressed nicer” you practically gasp out. Ellie chuckles softly as she watches your reaction closely, nodding slowly as she looks at the car with you.

“Hey…city girl comes to town? I need to pull all the stops” she explains with a nonchalant shrug. It makes you groan in annoyance, because did Ellie truly have to be this perfect? Couldn’t she have grown up to be a moron like your ex wife?

Why did she have to be something out of a fucking romance novel.

You’re too in awe with the vehicle to acknowledge her remark, a soft, dreamy sigh leaving your lips as you bend down a bit to look at the cream colored leather interior. “You fix this up yourself?” You hum out softly, although you already knew the answer to that question, you wanted to hear her gloat about it.

You can practically hear the cocky grin on the girls face as she nods. “Is the sky blue? Come on angel…you know nobody does it like me” she grins out, moving to stand behind you.

“Longer you stare at her, less time you have in her…” she practically purrs out. You have to ignore the way your stomach does flips at her tone, nodding eagerly as you rush to the other side of the car, to which Ellie quickly beats you to it.

“Nu-uh-uh…a lady never opens her own door, especially a city-“ you press your hand to her mouth, silencing her from finishing her sentence as you give her a displeased look.

“Finish that sentence and I’m going back inside” you deadpan, which makes Ellie quickly nod as she gives you wide eyes, opening the door for you in silence. You giggle softly, patting her cheek gently before you get into her car. “Much better” you praise her.

She chuckles softly, waiting for you to get in before she rushes to her side to get in and start driving as well.

The familiar bar hasn’t changed at all since you’d last been there. It’s almost scary how much everything’s frozen in time in the small town, leaving little to no room for changes. It makes you sigh softly, a gentle smile on your lips as Ellie pulls into the parking lot.

“Man….this place really never changes, huh?” You sigh out almost in awe, which makes Ellie chuckle as she shuts the car off.

“What can I say….Our town prioritizes tradition” she teases before she looks over at you, giving you a soft smile before nodding her head towards the building. “Come on, my buddy should be up any moment now” she urges gently before she gets out of the car, prompting you to follow when she opens up the door for you.

Inside, the place is buzzing. Filled to the brim with the people of your town, young and old, all of them eager for a night of fun after a long week of work. The atmosphere differs greatly from what you’re used to, the clubs and bars back in the city always having a strange vibe to them, one that you couldn’t ever really put your finger on.

Being there, with the people that had been born and raised in the same town as you, you were finally able to remember what it was that was missing in the city…

It was that the people here, were actually having fun.

“I’m gonna grab a drink, you want one?” Ellie leans down next to you, her voice raising a bit to combat the loud music that was already playing. You hum softly, trying your best to ignore the way her scent fills your knows and almost makes you feel drunk. You merely give her a nod and a soft smile before leaning in to speak into her ear as well. “A rum and coke if that’s okay!” You shout out to her, which earns a smile and a nod. She gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “find us a spot, I’ll find you when I have them” she urges before disappearing off into the sea of people to find the bar.

You let out a breath you’d seemingly held from the moment Ellie picked you up from your house, exhaling loudly as you look around at the packed room. There are various booths and stools available to sit, but you opt to lean up against a nearby wall, mainly because you seriously needed a time out from the amount of people there.

You truly didn’t expect for so many people to be there, thinking that it would be a barely packed house with a few of Ellie’s friends there to watch the mystery person she’d been boasting to you about. You couldn’t tell if everyone was there to see the performance, or if they were there simply to socialize and drink. You figured it was a mix of both.

Quite a bit of time passes by, and it makes you wonder if Ellie got lost or was having trouble finding you or something. You knew it was stupid to stand on the wall, so you figure you’d search for her instead.

Pushing yourself off the wall and emerging into the sea of people makes you frown, apologizing and squeezing through various people, trying your best to map out where the bar should be. You feel you can just make out the flooded area, when you finally spot Ellie.

And the girl that’s been keeping her from you.

You can see Ellie holding your drink in her hand, and one you can assume is for herself as the girl chats her up. You can barely make out who Ellie is speaking to, but from the back? You can tell she’s a looker. Her pretty hair falling down her back, attractive figure, even the way she leans in and presses her hand against Ellie’s arm whenever she laughs makes it clear that this girl is pretty, because all pretty girls know how to flirt in just the best ways possible.

And it’s the strangest fucking feeling, because even thought you caught your ex wife fucking another woman in the bed you both shared, what you feel when you see another girl touching Ellie’s arm doesn’t come close to anything you’ve ever felt before.

Because you’ve never had to see this. You’ve never had to see someone else throw themselves at Ellie. When you were dating, everyone knew that you were hers and she was yours, and even before you two were dating, everyone assumed you were both off limits anyways. It was something that you never had to face, because in the entire time that you’d known Ellie, she was yours.

But now she wasn’t. And it was clear that everyone knew that.

It makes you want to turn around and go home, ignore the ugly feeling in the pit of your stomach, call a cab and hide in your house for another month. You weren’t ready for this, these feelings that you were faced with were too much, and too fucking confusing. You wanted your bed, and your room, and your house where you were safe and no one and nothing could hurt you, you just needed to turn around and-

“Awe, there she is. Over here!” Ellie’s voice calls out over the loud music, cutting each and every one of your loud, annoying thoughts in half. Your eyes widen a bit when the girl finally turns around, only confirming the point that you had come to earlier. If anything, she puts all of that to shame, because she’s even more beautiful than you could have ever imagined.

You don’t recognize her, but she’s smiling brightly and waving you over as if she recognizes you, beckoning you over as if you’d all been friends since you were babies. You have to stop yourself from frowning, knowing both this girl and Ellie owed you nothing. You put on a smile, inhaling deeply and making your way over to the both of them.

“Sorry I took so long, I couldn’t find you anywhere” Ellie quickly apologizes as she hands you your drink. You quickly shake your head, clearing the lump that had formed in your throat before you give her a small smile.

“Uh…no worries. I was in an awkward spot anyways, so that’s my fault” you assure her.

She can tell something’s wrong just in the way you’re speaking, and it makes her eye you closely, trying to gauge your expression, eager to figure out what’s made the sudden change in your mood. It makes her frown slightly, eyebrows furrowed as she peers down to watch you before she leans in a bit. “You okay?” She questions softly, her hand coming up to squeeze your arm gently.

The tone of her voice and the hand on your arm makes you want to explode. It makes your head spin and it makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs, because Ellie does not owe you anything! She isn’t your girlfriend, and this is simply two friends catching up after not seeing each other for a long time, and it was absolutely doing your head in that she was speaking to you like that wasn’t the case.

So you give her a smile, nodding quickly as you shake her hand off of your arm. “I’m fine, just a bit flustered with the crowd…um…is this your friend?” You as gently as you gesture towards the girl that was politely standing there as you and Ellie had a moment, not daring to intervene as she quietly sipped on her drink and people watched, as to not make things even more awkward than they already were.

Ellie’s frown deepens when you shake her grasp off, eyeing the way her hand falls from your arm. It leaves a bitter taste on her tongue, not used to this far off, separated feeling that’s settled between the two of you. She wants to dwell on it further, but your question makes her blink out of her confused daze, looking over at the girl standing in front of her.

“Fuck…right, yes. This is Lilac, she moved into town a few years ago” Ellie explains.

Great, even her fucking name was beautiful.

You’re met with the prettiest pair of eyes when Ellie says her name, the girl smiling brightly as she hears Ellie introduce her.

“Ahh no need to be formal, darlin’. Ellie has told me so much about you” she practically squeals out.

You’re a bit taken aback when instead of shaking your hand, she tugs you in for a hug, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close, nearly making you spin your drink. Your eyes widen, using your free arm to wrap around her shoulders and hug her back. You catch Ellie chuckling softly as she brings her drink to her lips, trying to hide her smirk.

Lilac pulls away, pretty glossy lips pulled into a smile as she eyes you, a gentle sigh leaving your lips as she takes you in. “I was wondering when I’d get to meet you…I promise you, I’d hear at least half the town going on and on about you the first month of living here” she giggles out. You smile softly as you nod, taking a sip of your drink before you shrug.

“Sorry about that…I’ve been hiding I guess” you mumble out sheepishly, lips ghosting over the rim of your cup as you desperately try to take in as much of your drink as you could without slugging it down like an animal.

There was no way you’d be getting through this night sober.

Ellie watches as the two of you interact, smiling softly as she takes a sip of her own drink ever so often before she intervenes.

“Lilac works on the daily paper….came in and made it all fancy for us” Ellie chimes in. Her words make Lilac giggle softly, leaning in and pressing her hand against Ellie’s arm, giving her a gentle push.

You try your best to ignore how much that fucking annoys you.

“Oh please. All I did was order in some new printing paper and add pretty fonts. Don’t let her fool you” she chirps, leaning into you with raised eyebrows as she gives you a giggle. You don’t even have time to respond to her before she’s asking you another question.

“I hear you’re from the city…I’ve dreamed of being there all my life, can’t imagine what would bring someone back to a little town like this” she sighs out almost dreamily.

Although there’s no malice or blunt force to her words, you can’t help but take it that way. It’s clear she’s simply making conversation, trying to get to know you better. Maybe it’s the liquor slowly but surely making its way through your system, making you feel looser, making your tongue looser.

“Wasn’t really my plan” you make out, eyes drifting elsewhere as you bring your cup back to your lips.

God….you just wanted to go home.

She doesn’t quite catch the bitter tone in your words, because soon enough there’s an announcement echoing through the bar, and you know it’s time for that friend that Ellie had mentioned earlier to get on stage and perform.

Lilac squeals excitedly, jumping up and down as her hand grips Ellie’s arm, the girl clearly over the moon for whoever it was that was performing.

Great….she knew the guy too?

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, the foreign feeling of jealousy tapping on your shoulder, reminding you of all those intense feelings you’d once had for Ellie. Bringing your cup to your lips to occupy yourself makes you realize the drink was done, making you groan softly.

Your eyes drift over to Ellie and Lilac, both of them enamored with the man that was beginning his on stage. It makes you sigh softly before you lean into them, shouting over the loud music.

“I’m gonna get another drink, you guys want anything?” You barely make out over the loud guitar riff, the both of them denying before they brought their attention back to the musician. With that, you swiftly make your way through the crowd over to the bar.

The second you’re pressed up against the bar, it feels like you can breathe again. Your cheeks felt hot, your chest felt hot, hell, your entire fucking body felt hot. And the worst part of it all, is you could barely decipher the feelings that were plaguing your mind and body.

You sighed softly as you thanked the sweet bartender for the drink. There was enough space at the bar for you to turn around and gaze at the crowd, eyes drifting along the sea of people as you simply sipped on your drink, trying your best to regroup after the entire situation with Lilac.

Because it was weird. All of it was so fucking strange and it was doing your head in. The feeling that sank to the bottom of your stomach when you first laid eyes on them was one you couldn’t recognize. It was rare that you ever felt jealousy in your last relationship, which was honestly something that made you feel quite secure in your marriage. Your wife never truly gave you any reasons to feel that way, her attention always on you, never failing to make you feel like the only girl in the room. Thinking back to all of it, the way your marriage ended was almost comedic.

So seeing Ellie, your ex girlfriend of almost five years, and Lilac, one of the most beautiful girls you’d ever laid eyes on, simply laughing and touching one another as friends do? It made you want to rip the entire building you stood in, brick, by brick.

The thoughts alone make you frown, a gentle sigh leaving your lips as you stare down into the fizzy cup of ice, alcohol and soda in your hand. You felt…so conflicted, so wrong for allowing these feelings to fill you up and make you feel so intensely about someone who didn’t even feel that way about you anymore, and did you even feel that way about her anymore? It was just Ellie. She was your best friend before anything else, so what if she flirts with a pretty girl! You’d be stupid to think she didn’t have other people in her life after you left. What? Did you think she’d simply sit around waiting for you-

But when you finally lift your eyes up to scan the crowd again, what you find brings all of those thoughts to a halt once again.

Because now you’re seeing Ellie’s hand placed on Lilac’s middle, leaning in as the pretty girls lips ghosted along Ellie’s ear, giggling as she whispered unknown words to her.

And that’s when you realized, you couldn’t do this.

You quickly down the rest of your drink, shoving your hand into your purse and grabbing a fistful of money, sliding it over to the bartender and telling him to keep the change in a low voice. You pass the glass over to him, and begin making your way out of the sea of people in the dimly lit room.

You were stupid to think this was a good idea. Your emotions were so scattered, so messy and cluttered in your head. You were going through a fucking divorce, and now you were getting angry over the mere thought of your ex girlfriend standing next to another girl, let alone going further than that. You needed to get your shit together, and if that meant cutting newly mended ties with Ellie, then so fucking be it.

And it’s as if the once crowded bar isn’t able to cover your escape, because you can faintly make out the sound of someone calling for you. You cross your fingers, and hope that it’s someone from high school that just so happens to be there, recognizing you and trying to get a moment with you before you’re able to pounce out of the building.

But unfortunately for you, it’s not. You keep going anyways, hoping that Ellie will drop it or get caught up with someone or something else along the way of her high speed chase for you, but of course, she doesn’t.

You let out a loud sigh when you finally push past the heavy metal doors of the bar, the cool summer breeze wafting against your clammy skin, cooling down your warm cheeks. You hadn’t even realized it before, but you were practically covered in sweat from all the excitement that had washed over you in such a short amount of time.

Ellie is quick to wrap a gentle hand around your wrist, stopping you from running further.

“Hey…where you runnin’ off to? Shows barely even started” she pants out, her own cheeks flushed from pushing and shoving through people to get to you.

The ugly little monster that is jealousy dies immediately when you turn around to look at her. Partially because you know you need to quickly make up an appropriate excuse to your sudden departure, because surely you couldn’t tell her the true reason behind your disappearance…

And also because just looking at Ellie makes you feel whole again.

You let out a gentle sigh before giving her a half smile. “I’m uh…I’m pretty tired and I feel a tad drunk. You and Lilac looked like you were having fun so I didn’t wanna bother…” you explain, ignoring the way the sweet girls name leaves a rather bitter taste on your tongue.

Ellie nods, her expression gentle and understanding as she fishes her keys out of her pocket. “You should’ve told me. Come on, let’s get you home” she affirms with a soft smile, nodding her head towards her car as she begins leading you over.

Her words make you quickly shake your head, stepping in front of her to stop her from getting closer to her car.

“No! No Ellie it’s fine. You were really excited to come tonight and I don’t wanna stop you from having fun so just go back in and-“ you’re rambling at this point, a common habit you’d developed since you could speak. Ellie knew this, because every time you were flustered, or scared, or even happy, your emotions would get the best of you and you’d spew out words like a sprinkler.

So she chuckles softly, bringing her hand up to your arm and giving it a gentle squeeze as if to stop you.

“Slow down, peach” she hums out smoothly. The pet name makes your insides burn, her voice sounding like fucking butter as she soothes you, instantly calming you down and shutting you up just as she wanted.

“There you go…breath” she gives you an encoring nod, paired with another firm squeeze to your arm before she finally lets go, giving you a soft smile before she speaks again.

“I was excited to come out with you tonight. I see that guy perform every Friday” she explains with a soft laugh before she nods her head to her car once again.

“So, let’s get you home and in bed. Your parents would kill me if I let you roam around at night….even though your house is and ten minute walk from here” she shrugs before she presses her hand to the small of your back, leading you to her car without a choice.

It makes you whine softly, throwing your head back like a child as she opens up your door and helps you into the car. You aren’t even that drunk, a bit warm and tipsy, sure, but you were fine to make it home on your own.

However…her warm hand on your skin, paired with the babying, was nice.

Damn her for being so fucking perfect.

A soft huff blows past your pouted lips as she settles into the drivers seat next to you, which makes her snicker as she starts the car. “Quit pouting…it was getting too crowded in there anyways, was gonna suggest we head out right before you tried to ditch me” she shrugs nonchalantly, which earns a playful swat to her arm from your end.

“I was not ditching you! I really am tired” you protest, which only makes Ellie chuckle as she puts her hands up in her defense before she expertly pulls out of the parking lot, one hand on the steering wheel of course.

“Uh-huh….lets get you home then” she affirms as she gives you a wink before she makes her way to your house.

The summer breeze is cool against your skin, the windows down on Ellie’s car, soft music playing through it as you two simply enjoy the comfortable silence that falls between you both. It reminds you of the parties Ellie would drive you both home from, only for her to sneak up to your room with you and pass out in your bed, cuddled up into each other. Sneaking was a stretch, as your parents always knew she’d be spending the night when you two were out late.

The memories make the heart ache, and your throat swell, that familiar melancholy feeling filling you up at the reflection of the past staring at you in a pool of your memories.

You barely realize you’ve pulled in, the gentle hum of the car coming to a stop as Ellie lets her palms fall to her thighs, a gentle sigh leaving her lips as she stares up at your dark home, nothing but the porch light on to greet guests.

“Well…I hope you had fun tonight, peach…” she hums out softly when she finally turns to you, gentle green eyes shining in the dim lighting of her car, barely illuminated by the light beaming down from the moon in the clear night sky.

And you know you shouldn’t do it. You should just thank her for the night out, wish her a good night and go inside your house. You were tipsy, and you were extremely emotional, and you were lonely. All of it was a recipe for disaster, and you knew it.

But somehow, you don’t stop the words that fall from your lips.

“Do you wanna come inside?” You ask quickly, watching as the girls eyebrows raise in surprise at your sudden burst of hospitality. You inhale deeply before you continue.

“It’s late and…the least I could do is give you something to eat, or drink after making us leave early” you explain further, your hand gripping the edge of Ellie’s leather car seat as you stare at her.

When she doesn’t say anything, you feel like an idiot. She’s just staring at you and you suddenly feel like you’ve read into this all wrong, it’s been years! Why on earth would she want to come inside and hang out with her ex girlfriend, she probably has much better things to do.

“I’d love to” she beams out, giving you a bright smile before she opens her car door, gets out, and makes her way over to open yours to let you out.

You can practically feel the weight lift off of your chest when she agrees, a soft sigh of relief leaving your lips as you lead her to your front door, making your way up the steps and unlocking it before letting her in.

Ellie hums softly when you turn on the lights, eyes wandering around the familiar home as you toss your purse onto a nearby hanger, as well as kicking your shoes off near the front door.

She hangs her jacket up on the coat rack near the door like muscle memory right after she shuts the front door behind her, a soft smile on her lips as she watches you make your way to the kitchen and open up your fridge.

“I have water, iced tea, lemonade….” You list off the various contents in your fridge before you look over at the girl behind you, watching as she stands in the middle of your living room. “Water is fine” she hums out with a smile, which you nod and grab for her.

Your home is like a breath of fresh air compared to where you and Ellie where not even an hour ago, the two of you quickly falling into old habits as it takes no more than ten minutes for the two of you to make your way out to your back porch, taking a seat on the comfy outdoor couches your father had added in right before you moved out.

Another guttural laugh passes through your lips as you toss your head back, listening to Ellie catch you up on all the small town mishaps and shenanigans that you had missed, and yearned for oh so much since you'd gone.

"Are you kidding me? They fought over a decade old prom crown? I would have paid big money to see that shit" You gasp out, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye as you finally manage to catch your breath.

Ellie chuckles as she nods, bringing her water to her lips before she shrugs. "I'll tell you one thing, I had no idea those old ladies could move like that" She adds with a snort, ripping another burst of laughs from your sore chest.

You don't catch it, but Ellie simply watches you fondly as you toss your head back and laugh, a gentle smile playing on her lips as you struggle to find the words. It warms her heart even further to know that she was the one pulling that out of you, making you smile so big, laugh so hard.

You groan softly, exhaling tiredly as you place a hand on your chest as if to calm yourself. "Man....I seriously cannot remember the last time I've laughed this hard" You add, a soft, satisfied smile on your lips, unaware as to how sad your words may have sounded.

It hits you when you notice Ellie's gentle frown, the one that she gave whenever she was disappointed or when she knew something wasn't right.

"That's a shame...you used to laugh all the time when you were with me" She says matter-of-factly.

Her words catch you off guard, mostly because it was true. Being with Ellie was filled with nothing but smiles and laughs, the ones that had you keeling over and holding onto your belly as you shed a tear or two, unable to control the laughter that left your body, the happiness that filled you up when she was able to pull it out of you.

You hadn't even realized it, but you were pretty sure the last time you laughed like that, was with Ellie.

You hum softly, staring down at your lap as you toy with the frills of your dress, thinking back to all of those times, wishing so badly you could be that girl again.

Wishing you could live that life again.

It's getting late at this point, the warm summer breeze growing colder the higher the moon rises into the sky. It blows onto your skin, goosebumps littering your arms. You feel it's time to tell Ellie to leave, the air growing heavy as you both sit there in silence, her words hanging between you, begging to be responded to.

When you open your mouth to tell her that you're tired, and that she should probably head home, you're interrupted by the feeling of her calloused fingers gently gripping your chin, pulling you to look into her eyes.

"I....I don't know what happened...or why you two decided to split up..." she mumbles softly, and you know she's referring to your ex wife without even saying her name.

She inhales deeply, pink tongue darting out to wet her plump lips slowly before she speaks again. "But I couldn't imagine ever letting someone like you go....no matter what" she sighs out, her eyes staring into yours intensely.

And suddenly, you aren't you anymore. You are, but....you're a different you. You're the you that's filled with hopes and dreams, the you that wrote in her diary every night about everything she was going to do once she made it, the you that would peek her head out of her window to see her girlfriend standing out on her lawn, waiting to pick her up, take her out, and simply drive with the music on and the windows down, enjoying each others company.

You're the you, that's in love with Ellie.

Her green eyes sparkle like gems in the moonlight, the white light illuminating half of her pretty face, making a lump form in your throat as you struggle to find the words to say. You can feel her hand gently creep up to cup your face, and it makes your skin burn even hotter beneath her touch.

The familiar sound of the wind chimes rings through your ear, transporting you back to that very same night, five years ago when you were splayed out on the lawn that was a mere few feet away from you, kissing and loving on your girlfriend that you adored with all your heart.

Ellie hears them too, her eyes glancing up at them above your head. She chuckles softly, hand still caressing your cheek gently before she speaks. "Haven't heard those since the last time I saw you..." She hums out.

With that, it's as if your body moves itself for you, deciding your faith before you can, because you waste no time in leaning in and pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that can only be described as longing, having gone far too long without feeling the pair that they so desperately wanted pressed up against.

Ellie melts into you almost immediately, her other hand coming up to cup your cheek as she kisses you back passionately. Both of your hands come up to hold onto either of her wrists, keeping her close as you lean further into her, wanting more of the girl.

You need her more than air, easily letting her grip your thighs and tug you down to straddle her lap, your hands going up to tangle themselves in her soft hair. When she finally does break the kiss, her lips are on your neck, and your jaw, and your cheeks, and the corner of your mouth, eager to feel any part of you on her needy mouth as her hands roam your body eagerly.

"Missed you so fuckin' much...my dream girl" She moans out, making you whimper as you tug her hair back, angling her face back up towards yours before smashing your lips against hers.

"Let's....let's go inside...." You moan into her mouth, the kiss messy and sloppy as she nods eagerly before the request has even fully escaped your lips.

You waste no time crawling off her lap and tugging her inside, the two of you giggling and moaning as you stumble over your own feet in a dance of need and desperation, the both of you clearly in need of one another.

Ellie is tugging off her shirt as you two make your way through the door, helping you tug off your dress as she stumbles out of her jeans quickly after.

A pile of clothes leads the both of you to your bed, the girl laying you down and crawling over you, strong hands caressing your soft body, tugging at your bra and your panties, mouthing away at your newly exposed skin.

"You don't know how many times I've thought about this...thought about you like this" she admits, needy hands gripping at your waist, pulling you flush against her half naked body as she kisses up to your lips again, slowly pushing her tongue into your mouth as she groans against you, strong hands massaging your skin, kneading it between her fingers.

You moan into her, nodding eagerly as your hands tug her closer, wanting her as close to your body as possible.

"I have to..." you admit mindlessly.

You don't realize it then, but it's the first time that you've allowed yourself to admit that to someone, even to yourself. Those were secrets that you're buried down so deep into your mind, you weren't even sure they were true anymore.

Ellie was able to pull them out thought.

"Gonna...fuckin' worship you...like you deserve, baby.." she moans out, her lips pressing against your boobs that were spilling out of your bra, nipping and biting at your exposed skin.

But when she says that, it's like all the lights suddenly turned on.

It all comes weighing down on you in an instant, what happened, what you'd been through. Your wife had cheated on you with another woman, she promised you everything, the world at your feet if you asked for it, yet she still threw it all away as if none of it was real, as if none of it mattered.

Who's to say Ellie wouldn't do the same?

Your body goes limp beneath her, and Ellie catches onto it immediately, frowning gently as she pulls away to see her suspicions were confirmed.

"Baby? Hey...you with me angel?" She calls out as she watches you staring up at the ceiling, your eyes glossing over as if you weren't even there.

Because you weren't, you were back in your bedroom, in your apartment in the city, watching the woman you thought loved you back, fuck another woman into your mattress as if she were you.

You weren't ready for this.

"I...I can't do this.." You mumble out, voice cracking as your throat began swelling up from the tears pooling in your eyes.

Ellie is quick to sit up with you, tugging the blankets on your bed up so that you were able to shield your chest from the cold air that circled your room, her hand coming up to your back as she peered down at you, brushing your hair out of your face.

"Sweetheart, what is it? did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?" she urges, desperately trying her best to understand what happened, what caused the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

You feel sick to your stomach, shaking your head as the tears begin spilling out onto your cheeks, keeping the blanket tugged close to your chest as you brush Ellies hands away from your face.

"I can't...you need to leave...please leave!" you sob out, shaking your head as all the images of your ex wife come flooding in.

Ellie frowns deeply as she watches you push her away, shutting her out and putting those same walls up that she could feel even when you were miles and miles away from her in the city.

She knows she can't get through to you, not now at least. So she simply gets up off your bed, tugs on her t shirt and jeans, goes downstairs and walks out of your house, her heart breaking as she hears your sobs echoing through the house, following her as she left you there.

And as you laid there, crying in your bed once again, ugly images run through your mind,

it isn't the thought of your ex wife cheating on you, that hurts, but its merely a dull blade to your side now that you've felt Ellie again, those feelings coming back the second her lips were on yours.

No...it's the thought of Ellie doing those things. It's the thought of her promising you the world and still throwing it away, even after she put a pretty ring on your finger.

Because love is ruined for you now, and you aren't entirely sure you could trust anyone to give it to you again.

Even Ellie.

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff

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buckys-wintersoldier · 4 days

Text

Heart sweater | B.B

Your daughter got a present for his daddy and Bucky isn’t afraid to show everyone what his little girl got for him.

Pairing: Mob!Dad!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Mom!Wife!Reader

Wordcount: 2.033 Words

Warnings: none, just lots of fluff

Authors Note: I couldn’t help myself. This sweater is just so adorable and imagine Bucky’s little girl getting it for him. So yes, soft spot, feeling soft right now. Hope you enjoy!

Events: Winds of autumn challenge | Candy corn 🍬 a sweet surprise, Balance ⚖️ as the equinox approaches, the day and night balance out. Write about finding peace | @the-slumberparty

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Daddyyyy! We gots you a present!" A childish voice echoes through the hallway of the building. Your and your little — big — families home. Others may say that you, Bucky, and your daughter are family, but there are so many more; they aren’t from the same blood but with the same big hearts.

Bucky’s men, who not only needed to earn his trust but also needed to earn their place in the family, are more than just his men. They are Bucky’s friends, your friends, and your daughter's uncles. None of them would let anything happen to you or the little girl — not just because Bucky told them to take care, but because you’re a family.

Your little daughter runs further through the hallway until she finally reaches her dad's office door. The second floor of the building is just an office — for Bucky and his men. And since he had an important meeting, he suggested that you could go out with her to get some new toys and clothes.

Of course, your little baby girl didn’t go to the toy store first. She loves it, but you’re shopping? She has to get a present for her daddy. She kind of gives herself a treat after finding the perfect present for Bucky — and then she uses all the money she can to get a lot of toys and stuff for herself.

You watch the toddler with amused eyes whenever you’re shopping without Bucky. Mostly Steve comes with you, keeping the two of you safe and just giving you a helping hand so you don’t have to carry all of these bags yourself.

“Sweetheart,” you chuckle while she already jumps to reach the handle and almost falls into her dad's office. You laugh softly, shaking your head — she is just as stubborn as her daddy when it comes to letting someone help or listen once they get excited.

Bucky’s head shoots up the moment the door swings open. He smiles at his little girl, then his eyes wander further toward you. The ocean blue orbs glistening when his lips curl up into a soft smile — one he reserves only for you and your little girl.

“Take care, my sweet little plum. Don’t want ya to get hurt, do we?” He asks, his voice soft but still a bit firm, so the little girl will listen to him. Her eyes — which are just as blue as Bucky’s — roam over her daddy’s body, from his legs up to his face, before she smirks with the widest grin ever.

“We gots you something’, daddy!” She says, excitedly. Bucky crouches down, resting his arms on his knees while he waits for his little girl to continue talking. “Mommy! Daddy waits fo’ you!”

You chuckle, looking for the bag in your hand she wants to have before placing all the others down and handing her the one she put her daddy’s present into. Bucky’s eyes move toward you; without any words, he makes sure you’re okay and that you can be without a kiss for a few more minutes while he focuses on his baby girl.

Once he’s sure you’re fine — after you settle down on the couch in his office and sigh softly — he mouths, ‘I love you, my pretty girl’ to you. And oh damn, you know why you fell in love with that man. He may be a big, feared mafia boss, but around you he is the sweetest, most loving, caring, and perfect husband — and father for your daughter — you could have wished for.

Bucky may be mad because of work sometimes; he may be annoyed, but he never lets it out on you. He would rather punch himself than make you feel like he doesn’t appreciate you or that you’re a burden for him. For your husband, you’re the most precious woman, and he will do everything to keep you safe and loved. He does the same for your little girl.

Luckily, Bucky discovered immediately that whenever he's mad, he just needs you, and everything is perfect. Preferably when he can keep you on his lap. His arms are tightly wrapped around your waist and pull you as close as possible while he presses his face into your chest. You will run your fingers through his hair, and he knows he’s safe — no reason for anger or annoyance, just love and affection, so he calms down without needing anything but you.

“So what do you have for me, my little plum?” Bucky asks, looking with amusement and curiosity at the little girl in front of him. She giggles, her tiny hands grasping his cheeks, and she runs her small fingers over his stubbles.

“Sc’atchy,” she mumbles and squeezes his cheeks together. Bucky lets out a low chuckle, letting her play with his scratchy stubbles. He knows how much his sweet little girl likes his stubbles; she is just like her mommy loving his metal arm and his stubbles — even though you have other intentions when it comes to his metal arm or his stubbles. But those are secrets that stay in the bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you wanted to show Daddy what you got for him,” you remind her when you notice that she got lost in her little game to play with her daddies cheek. But she was so excited to get him his present, plus you know that Bucky’s curious as well.

She removes her small hands and grasps the paper bag again, opening it before hiding her face almost inside of it. You would never leave her with a bag without anyone else around her, but as long as you and Bucky are there, you don’t feel scared if she puts her head slightly into it to tease her daddy a bit.

“Yeah, my little plum. What do you got Daddy, huh?” He asks, bringing his big hands to her small sides to poke his fingers into her soft flesh. The little girl laughs, throwing her head back while she wiggles in his grip.

She pulls her tiny hands out of the bag and holds a big, white sweater with hearts on it in front of her. Her smile grows and her eyes sparkle as she shows it to Bucky. And the big, most feared mafia boss has the sweetest expression on his face.

His eyes shine, and it looks like the sun is brightening them. His smile reaches almost his ears as he stares at the fabric in his daughter's hands. Bucky’s eyes wander to you for a second, then back to his little girl.

“Thank you, my little plum,” he coos, taking the sweater out of her hands to admire it a moment longer. Your daughter watches Bucky intensely — the same intense stare Bucky has if he wants to find out how you think about something. “You want me to take it on right now?”

She nods, letting herself fall backward into her butt while she holds his gaze. He nods, smirking softly. Bucky leans forward, his big hand placed at the back of her head, and he brings her closer to press his plump lips against her forehead.

“Then I will do that,” he says, getting up from the stop he was kneeling. His eyes land on you, and before he leaves the room to change into the new sweater, he makes his way over to you.

He towers over you, both of his hands finding their way to your thighs, and he leans closer. His lips almost brush yours when he grins at you. “She chose the sweater all by herself, but you allowed her to buy it, didn’t you?”

You shiver under his intense stare and his rough voice. “S-she’s just really convincing. I know you said you don’t want presents, but I guess— I guess she got that from you,” you giggle and Lena closer to chase his lips for a soft kiss. Bucky chuckles, kissing you once again before he pushes himself up and makes his way out of the room to change into the sweater you and your daughter got him.

Your daughter gets one of her new toys out of the bag and shows it to you. It’s not like you don’t know what she bought, but she loves to show you and explain everything about it anyway.

“Mommy, wants book or wants dolly?” She asks, lifting her small arms and holding both up to let you decide which of these she should show and explain to you.

“Do you want me to tell you more about the book you got?” You ask. She nods and puts the doll down, walking with the book in her hands toward you. The little girl places the book on the couch next to you, her small fingers digging into your thighs, and she tries to push herself up onto the couch. “Do you want me to help you, sweetheart?”

“Nuuu, ‘m big girl!” She nods, underlining her words. You chuckle; let her climb up without help. Your hand is still behind her back just in case she falls backwards, but she doesn’t.

Once she is on top and next to you, she wiggles a bit and takes the book, placing it in your lap. She just wants to explain why she got the book, who’s on the cover, and what she knows about her favorite series — the book is about it — when Bucky walks back into the room.

Her eyes widen, and she giggles as she sees her big daddy in this pretty sweater she got him. You smile softly at him, reaching your hands out for him to come closer. “You’re pretty, Bucky,” you say and run your fingers over the back of his flash hand, then over the fabric of the sweater.

“Didn’t know I would look that good in that sweater,” he jokes. Stroking one of his hands over the fabric. And he really does look adorable with his middle long hair, his broad chest, and his big arms — the feared mafia boss — wearing a sweater with a lot of hearts on it because his sweet little plum got it just for him. “So, my little plum, what do you think?”

Bucky gets down on his knees in front of the couch, looking at the little girl. Her ocean blue eyes roam over him a little longer before she giggles. “Looks pwetty, daddy! Now we can go back to work!”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I thought I could take out my girls for dinner.” Bucky tilts his head. His fleshy hand holds yours tightly while he watches the little girl, considering if she wants to work or prefers to have dinner with the two of you.

“Do we gets my favorite food?” She asks, taking her book and making grabby hands, waiting for Bucky to pick her up. He nods, wrapping his arms around her to lift her onto his waist before he holds a hand out for you to grasp and let him pull you up.

Bucky doesn’t care that people could look weird at him for wearing a sweater with hearts on it. His sweet girl got it for him, and he knows that no one will disrespect him — not even when he looks like a sweet puppy with an adorable sweater.

“You know, babydoll,” Bucky says, looking at you as he wraps his free hand around your waist to pull you into his side. His nose brushes over your cheek until his lips press against your temple. “Thank you for letting out sweet plum to buy me such a pretty sweater. Now I’m wearing your necklace, our wedding band, and my little girl's sweater. I love you, my babydoll, pretty momma.”

Bucky’s voice is low, and he smirks against your skin as you shiver. You knew he would love the sweater — he loves everything you or your daughter get him. “I love you too, Buck,” you mumble before you make your way to the restaurant — letting Bucky show his sweater around to let everyone see how proud he is to have his family, how much he loves you and his little plum, and how much he appreciates you and your love.

Taglist -> @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @somnorvos @meowmeowyoongles @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @loki-laufeyson68 @winterschildren8 @bxtchboy69 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @im-alestan @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing @blackhawkfanatic @fanfictionreaderfan @multiversefanfics @angelbabyyy99 @looking1016 @aphrodite-xoxo @fanfictionreaderfan @iris-xoxo-juhu @holylulusworld @bucks-babe @whatever-lmaoo @thevillainswhore

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dotster001 · 2 years

Text

For Tuna

Summary:Grim does some interviews to find the perfect sugar dad for him you gn!reader x all boys in one way or another.

A/N:I haven't unpacked my tag list yet, so hopefully this is everyone!

Part Two Part Three choose your ending...

"Grim, we can't afford the bougie tuna. Put it back."

You'd missed it before when you were loading your basket at Sam's shop, but Grim had snuck in the expensive tuna. Now you were at the counter, trying to hide your embarrassment as you told Grim to put it back. Sam gave you a sympathetic smile, but still. You didn't need to add his pity to your plate of worries.

"Prefect, don't worry about it. I can take care of it."

You jumped. You hadn't realized Ruggie had lined up behind you with his own basket full of stuff.

"Yeah! Let Ruggie-"

"I couldn't do that, Ruggie, but thanks for the offer."

Ruggie grinned, "oh please, it's on Leona. He said I could get whatever I want as long as I come back with his energy drinks."

You made an unconvinced face, and Ruggie gave a playful wink.

"Trust me, your tuna won't even make a dent in his wallet. I could pay for your entire load, and still be able to pay off my student loans. In fact," he slapped down Leona's wallet, "Sam, add Y/N's groceries to mine, I'll take care of it."

Before you could protest further, Sam was ringing you both up.

And then Grim got an idea. A terribly, wonderful, awful idea.

"There, all settled. Plus now you can afford to fix your windows this month, or…." He looked at the cash in your hand, "well you can fix one window at least. And don't feel too bad for Leona. Eat the rich and what not," Ruggie patted your back comfortingly then left with his groceries.

"C'mon Grimmy, let's go," you said with a heavy sigh.

"Actually, I have something to do, Henchhuman. You go on home, I'll see ya later."

"Okay, but if you need me…."

"I'll be okay! Geeze you get so anxious without the great Grim. It's embarrassing."

You rolled your eyes and left. You would be so proud of him once he had finished though. He was excited already.

Heartslaybul Dorm….

"Mr. Rosehearts. Thank you for meeting with me."

Grim primly took out his pen and began to scribble on a clipboard.

"I didn't meet with you. You barged into my office," Riddle said, his arms crossed along his chest.

"I think you will find this meeting beneficial. It pertains to Y/N L/N."

Riddle relaxed a little, and raised a single curious eyebrow.

"You see, It has come to my attention, that Y/N and I do not have the funds to live comfortably. In fact, Y/N is practically starving to death! It has also come to my attention that you harbor some feelings for the prefect, and are in possession of a great deal of funds. Now," Grim dramatically looked up at Riddle, who's face was a shade of dark red. "How do you intend to provide for Y/N?"

Riddle opened his mouth, and Grim prepared himself for the worst, but…

"Wait, Y/N's on the market?!?!!"

Grim turned over his shoulder just in time to see Cater run in, tea tray in hand.

"He's only taking applications from rich people."

"Not a concern, housewarden!" Cater cleared his throat. "Hi, I'm Cater Diamond, and my dad is a banker."

"Oh!" Grim made a note on his paper. Riddle stood up abruptly.

"You only talk to your family on holidays, I wouldn't call that a solid source of income-"

"Yes but I'm a people pleaser, so I'll probably follow in his footsteps. So I will also have a banker's salary."

Riddle turned to Grim in a panic.

"I'm going to be a doctor!"

"Oh!" Scribble scribble.

"Oh please!" Cater rolled his eyes before conspiratorially leaning into Grim. "We both know Riddle. He'll work long shifts, day in and day out, and he'll never come home. Meaning poor Y/N will be trapped in a lonely loveless marriage. Meanwhile, I'll work my nine to five, and be home in time to gift you tuna, and keep Y/N warm at night."

"You think Grim cares about that?" Riddle shoved Cater out of the way. "I'll make time for Y/N. Plus my salary will provide double the tuna for you."

"What's all the yelling about?" Trey entered the room, followed by Ace and Deuce.

"Don't look at them, those three are poor as fuck. I mean a baker? Blech, disgusting," Cater apologetically smiled at Trey. "No offense."

"What?" Trey said, feeling more confused than he ever had been.

Grim clicked his pen closed.

"Thank you for your time. I have more interviews to conduct, but I will be in contact if you get through to the second round."

He scampered out of the room as Riddle and Cater nodded after him.

Savannaclaw Dorm….

Grim sat at the foot of Leona's bed as he tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"How can I provide for Y/N, huh? You mean the little demonstration Ruggie gave this morning wasn't enough?"

Grim tapped the pen impatiently against the clipboard.

"Mr. Kingscholar, it is important that you participate fully, or I will remove you from the list entirely."

Leona groaned.

"I receive a….certain amount of, shall we say, an allowance."

"And how much can I expect from that? I have a lot of people to interview. Please don't waste my time."

Leona looked over at Ruggie, who was folding laundry, then gestured Grim closer, before whispering a number into his ear.

Grim gasped, then hastily scribbled something onto his clipboard.

"We will be in contact with you when the second round of interviews begins." Grim stood up and hopped off the bed.

"Ruggie," Leona snapped, "Ensure my future relative makes it out of here safely. Let no one stop you."

Ruggie nodded in understanding as he escorted a proud looking Grim out.

Once they were halfway through the dorm, Ruggie began to speak.

"Leona has promised me a job with an excellent salary once I graduate. Just sayin."

"Won't he just take back the job if he finds out you're competing with him?"

Ruggie rolled his eyes, "Nevermind."

Jack left his room, and noticed the two of them, and began to walk towards them.

"Jack will make you get a job if you pick him," Ruggie whispered hastily. Grim hissed and sprinted the rest of the way out of the dorm.

"What's wrong with Grim?" Jack asked.

"Shi hi hi who knows?"

As Grim made his way to his second location, he was picked up by the scruff of his neck.

"Hey! What's the big idea?!?!?"

"Aw little sealie you're so cute!"

Grim stiffened.

"Fu fu fu," Jade laughed next to him. "our boss would like to have a word with you."

Grim gulped.

Octavinelle Dorm….

"Thank you for agreeing to see me," Azul said smugly.

"I didn't. Your scary twins picked me up and dragged me here."

"You see," Azul pushed his glasses up his nose, expertly ignoring Grim, "We got word that you were interviewing potential candidates for Y/N's future husband. I prepared some charts for you."

Azul pulled out several charts. Grim understood exactly zero of them. But he nodded thoughtfully and pretended to make a note on his clipboard.

"As you can see, my income is projected to continually go up until retirement. Plus my assets will continue to be of value, and my investments will be bringing in money for many years to come. I can safely say, money is no object. Plus, I am an excellent cook. You will never have to eat poor person's tuna ever again."

Grim made a real note this time just as the twins roughly turned his chair around.

"Now that Azul has had his turn, we would like to give our pitch," Jade said with an eerie grin.

"You see, our parents run a certain…. organization," Floyd and Jade shared a grin before turning to Grim again. "Jade and I are the sole inheritors of this empire when they pass. Just keep that in mind."

"Also, people who oppose this organization have a tendency to, shall we say, disappear."

Grim shivered as he made a skull and crossbones picture on his clipboard.

"Awesome. Great. I'll be taking Grim now…."

"Sea Snake!" Floyd shouted, wrapping his arms around Jamil, who had silently snuck into the room.

"Let go," Jamil hissed, wriggling away from Floyd. "Give me the cat."

"Aw, but we were playing with him…."

"It's alright Floyd. I think the three of us have made our point quite clear," Jade hummed, before the octotrio shared a laugh.

Jamil rolled his eyes before carefully picking up Grim.

Scarabia Dorm….

"Look, Kalim isn't going to brag for himself so I thought I'd bring you here and remind you that this entire dorm was funded by his family. And he will be inheriting said funds."

Grim nodded and made a note.

"What about you? I mean, I already know you aren't getting picked cause, well, " Grim pointedly looked him up and down. "But the other broke losers have tried to participate."

Jamil leaned down and gave a dark smile.

"I don't need money to win over Y/N," eyes flashing red as he spoke.

"Monsieur Fuzzball!"

Grim and Jamil both groaned. It only took two seconds for him to be scooped up by the hunter.

"Non, non, do not struggle. I only wish to prove myself as a proper caretaker!"

Pomefiore Dorm…

Grim had never been so pampered, well fed, and relaxed in his entire life. Rook had provided snacks galore, given Grim the full on spa treatment, brushed out his fur, and was now massaging his sore kitty back.

"Monsieur Fuzzball, doesn't this feel wonderful?"

Grim nodded as Rook continued his massage.

"Just think, you could have this everyday!"

Grim groaned happily as Rook hit a tough knot.

Suddenly, Rook's voice was directly in his ear.

"All you have to do is give me the Trickster."

In that moment, Grim knew he would sell you for this life without a second thought.

But before he could do that…

"For heaven's sake I told you to find Epel, not this rodent!"

Rook immediately stopped the massage, to turn to his Queen.

"Roi du poison! I was simply-"

"Spare me," Vil snapped, before handing a struggling Epel over to Rook. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card, gracefully handing it to Grim between two fingers.

"I believe you are aware of my financial situation, but should you have questions, you can reach my manager on that card."

Then he left the room with a flourish, and the lingering scent of apple blossoms.

"You know I am willing to share the trickster with you," Rook whispered to Vil in the hallway.

"Ew," Epel groaned.

"As if I'd ever share," Vil smirked.

Outside the Ignihyde Dorm…

Ortho stood next to the tablet, holding Grin up so he could see what it said.

"So as you can see from my bank account," Idia's voice said from the tablet, "Money is not and never will be an issue."

"It all looks good," Grim muttered as he made a note, "but I have to say it's a red flag that you couldn't come here in person…"

"Hey! Big brother is just busy with his experiment!"

"Yeah, exactly, thank you Ortho, for being the only one who appreciates genius. In fact this conversation is over. If he doesn't get it, then that's his loss. Ditch the noob, Ortho!" And the tablet floated back into the dorm.

Ortho gently set Grim down. "Look, big brother gets nervous around the prefect, that's all. But I think they'd make a great couple."

He gently patted Grim's head, then floated back in. Grim sighed, made a note about how Idia was a package deal, then continued to the final dorm.

Diasomnia Dorm…

"Small kitten, I am to be king of a country. Not only that, but I have spent centuries curating my hoard. Our nest will be always warm, and my perfect child of man will want for nothing," Malleus finished with a smug grin, as he leaned back in his throne. Then he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Now you three can make your offers, or whatever."

"Me next! Me next!" Lilia said, cradling Grim like a baby. "I'm not as young as I look, and am on the best of terms with the queen and future king. I also have a great fortune built up! Kay, who's next?"

Silver timidly raised his hand.

"I just want to say, what about what Y/N wants? What if Y/N doesn't like any of us? What if Y/N doesn't even want to get married in the end? Or maybe they'll be just as happy with or without money?"

There was a long pause. Then…

"Silver's father is loaded and will do anything to see his children married and happy!"

"Fa-Lilia!" Silver hid his face in his hands in embarrassment.

"Same with Sebek. And his dad's a dentist!"

For once Sebek had nothing to say.

"Excellent, this looks very promising for you four," Grim nodded scribbling his final notes, "Now to-"

"GRIM!"

Uh oh. He turned around and saw you storming in.

"Child of man!"

"Save it Mal Mal! I'm here for my rat," You scooped up Grim, placing him under your arm as you left the room.

"When will we hear about the second round of interviews?" Lilia giggled.

You answered by flipping them the middle finger without looking back.

The Hallway….

"What the hell, Grim? I'm not for sale!"

"I'm not selling you! I'm just trying to get you provided for!"

"Please! This is about tuna and you know it!"

"Who even told you?"

"Jack called me about an-"

"Ah! Prefect!"

You and Grim groaned as you heard Crowley call to you both.

"Yes, headmage?" You asked through gritted teeth. You turned and saw Crewel was with him….wearing a bigger coat than normal.

"That coat looks so soft," Grim muttered.

"Yeah," you whispered back. "Wait, headmage, what do you need?"

"I heard your current allowance is no longer sufficient," he gently traced your jawline, settling below your chin, tapping up against it thoughtfully. "How does a little extra sound?"

You nodded dumbly.

"Good good, I'm too generous, I know," he hummed and walked off.

Before Crewel followed him, he smirked and patted the top of your head.

"Good pup."

He stalked off. You stood frozen for a moment. Grim smirked up at you.

"You know, they look like they…."

"You keep that thought to yourself, Grim."

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic

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kotohq · 6 months

Text

##. MY HEART'S GOING LUB-DUB

♡ things he has said that flustered you.

♡ contents and warnings: established relationships, mentions of making out (nirei), mentions of marriage (sakura), reader’s ears are pierced in suou’s, mild, mild, possessiveness in suou's but not really 🐧

♡ characters: sakura haruka, nirei akihiko, suou hayato (x gn! reader)

Anyone who knows SAKURA HARUKA probably knows that contrary to the delinquent facade he puts up, he is actually quite innocent. A little naive, if you will, blushing at every show of romantic affection. And everyone in Boufuurin knows that’s why he’s become subject to Suou Hayato’s teasing when the brown haired boy needed a good chuckle. And of course, you, as his very lovely partner, had to also jump on the bandwagon of endearingly poking fun at your boyfriend.

“Y’know, Haruka, you should stop me or else I’m gonna get carried away and keep teasing you even after we get married!” This was a sentence you often say for laughs after you had yet again successfully made Haruka agitated and his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red, all the way up to his ears. Granted, the first time he heard it he couldn’t look you in the eye for two whole days at the mention marriage (it’s not that he doesn’t like it, in fact it was because he likes it a little too much that he couldn’t even make eye contact without imagining you in fancy white attire). But now, he barely bats an eye at it now with how often you say it. But today, it’s evident that that particular sentence had poked at someone’s curiosity as you can sense someone staring at you as you banter with your boyfriend.

“You know, Sakura-kun, I barely see you reacting to... that. You’re really planning to marry them in the future, huh?” Ah, it's Suou again. His soothing voice drips with mischief, the purpose of his question is obviously to tease his heterochromatic eyed peer yet again. Haruka’s features morph into one of confusion, brows furrowed as he turns to face his vice captain.

“Hah? What are you talking about?” Haruka inquires like suou’s question is the most ridiculous question in the world. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought suou was asking him if he believed pigs could fly, or if the earth was actually a hexagon.

(Of course, you can’t lie, suou’s question made you nervous despite how lighthearted he said it. Your self consciousness has already prepared itself for a heartbreak trip as you await your boyfriend to continue his response.)

“Why would I date someone I don’t intend on marrying?”

Ah, now it’s your cheeks that are heating up.

“Are you done?” The only answer SUOU HAYATO offers to your inquiry is a focused hum. His hand fumbles with the earring, his earring, as he tries to carefully slide the hook into the small hole on your right earlobe. Though, you have to say, you have nothing particular to complain about as you wait for your boyfriend to put the earring on you. After all, you’re getting the privilege of being in the front seat staring at Suou Hayato’s face as he carefully tries to put the earring on you. Lips pursed and eyes squinted a little, he looks extra handsome when he’s focused, you note.

“Just need to secure them with the back. And... done!” he heaves out a breath as triumph takes over his features, pulling back slightly to admire his (hardly) hard work. His lips stretch into a smile, satisfied at how the red and yellow of his earring highlights your features more.

“How does it look?” you feel quite nervous as you wait for his reply, shyly peering at him through your eyelashes. Being so close, you have the advantage of watching closely for any twitch of his features that might indicate satisfaction, dissatisfaction, anything that can indicate what kind of reaction he’s going to emit.

You twitch slightly at the sensation of his pointer finger and middle finger grazing your chin, touch gentle as he settles them there. You swear you see something flashing in his usually gentle ruby eyes. Something akin to satisfaction, or, even, possessiveness. But you don't comment on it. He moves your head from your side to side as if to examine you thoroughly. (he quietly notes how cute you are for compliantly moving your head.) It’s only when you feel the earring faintly brushing against your right shoulder that you become hyper aware of how empty your left ear feels without an earring weighing it down. You also become hyper aware of the fact that the earring’s pair is still dangling from his left ear, eyes instinctively flitting to it. Your cheeks begin to heat up. Oh, it’s almost as if you’re wearing a couple ite-

He interrupts your thought before you can finish it.

“I quite like it, it’s pretty on you,” his voice breaks your train of thought. His smile is quite literally dripping with mischief, and now you can clearly see it. The tint of greed in his eyes is back as he moves his fingers that were formerly resting on your chin to stroke at the earring on your ear. His composed facade would have fooled you if it weren’t for the words he utters next.

“It gives off the feeling that you’re mine.”

Oh he likes it, alright. Too much, maybe.

“Sorry. D’you need a break?” NIREI AKIHIKO’s voice is devoid of any teasing lilt, instead dripping with concern as he gazes at you through his eyelashes, eyes half lidded and cheeks flushed with a pretty tint of pink.

It’s not the words by themselves. It’s the fact that he’s saying those words in this kind of situation. By this kind of situation, you mean with you perched up on his lap, legs splayed on either side of his thighs as he lay seated on a couch beneath you. He had uttered those exact words after what felt like 10 minutes straight of kissing

(it hadn’t even been 5 minutes, but you could barely think with how clouded your mind is).

His question was thoroughly leaking with worry, caramel orbs boring through you as he awaits your reply. You wanted to say yes, hell, your lungs were begging you to say yes as they heaved desperately yes. You have to give your boyfriend credit, though. Sweet like always, he had noticed he had gone a little too far when he felt your lips part with breathless whines on his, and had asked if you needed a time out. Though, you don’t think he’s aware of how his voice shakes with want, or how his fingers that are resting on your hips squeezed hard like he was trying to ground himself, or how his eyes are swirling with something akin to need.

(or how he barely sounded apologetic when he apologized, and you suspect it’s because his pride soars with the knowledge that he’s the one making you breathless.)

“No,” you’re surprised at how hoarse your voice sounds, though, that is to be expected after you quite literally just had your breath taken away. Your thumb reaches out to swipe at his quivering bottom lip, gleaming with saliva and a little swollen from pressing against yours repeatedly. He leans into your touch, and you gulp away the feeling of your tugging heartstrings. “Keep kissing me, lover boy.”

And as he lurches forward to clash your lips together again, the last thought that etches on your mind was that he really should put this on his resume: Nirei Akihiko, 16, not good at fighting (yet), hella good at kissing.

#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker x reader #suou hayato x reader #nirei akihiko x reader #sakura haruka x reader

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helaintoloki · 1 month

Note

the other Hargreeves siblings being absolutely teary-eyed on the day of y/n and Five’s wedding. they like to think of her as an adopted member of the family, because she’s gone through so much with them, gotten so close to death in multiple occasions while trying to save them. after everything, they never thought to see her live out the happy life she deserve, much less getting married to Five.

a/n: i am a sucker for found family tropes and wedding pieces so this was fun for me to write

warnings: none i think ? mostly fluff

Your stomach feels as if it’s tied into a million knots, and you can’t bring yourself to even touch the plate of fruit Klaus had fetched for you to nibble on as you got ready for the big day. Allison works diligently to perfect your look despite her insistence that you should have just let her hire a professional to get the job done, but you were adamant about keeping everything as simple as possible. Neither you nor Five wanted some big extravagant mess when it came to your ceremony, and if it had been up to you both you would have just settled for a courthouse marriage, but his family wouldn’t have it. You were finally becoming an official Hargreeves, and they deemed it necessary to celebrate with a proper wedding and reception despite the fact that there really would only be about ten guests at most.

You met Five in the apocalyptic ruins of the world while scavenging for food. Despite everyone you knew and cared about perishing in the gale of fire that blanketed the earth, you had miraculously survived. Call it pure luck for being at the right place at the right time, but you had been searching for a flashlight in your underground basement when the moon had been struck, and the reinforced steel structure of the room had kept you from suffering the same fate as everyone around you.

Neither of you trusted each other in the beginning, but you both were smart enough to realize that sticking together was necessary for your survival, and so you put aside your differences to travel the apocalyptic wasteland together. That’s not to say there weren’t times when you got on each others nerves or wanted to strangle him with your bare hands, but with time your partnership evolved into an actual friendship, and perhaps it could have evolved into more if not for the constant distractions that arose during your fight for survival.

Allison accidentally poking your eye with a mascara wand interrupts your moment of reminiscing, and she merely gives you an apologetic smile when you shoot her a look of annoyance in return.

“I told you we should have hired a professional,” she reminds you matter of factly only for you to lightly swat her hand away.

“And I told you I wanted to go down to the courthouse and pick up a sheet cake at the grocery store,” you counter with a raised brow. Sensing defeat, Allison relents with a small sigh and takes a step back to look at her masterpiece.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just our family doesn’t get to do these sorts of things very often, and it’s not every day I get a new sister.”

Your shoulders slump guilty at her admission, and you find yourself now feeling less combative against her than you initially were. Though you mentally are in your 50’s and no longer see a need to have a big wedding to marry a man you’ve known for basically your whole life, you still physically look like a young bride, so it’s only natural for Allison and the rest of Five’s siblings to want to treat you as such. From what Five has told you along with the stories that have been recounted in your presence, their lives have always been less than normal. You of all people can relate to that- growing up in an apocalypse, becoming a glorified secretary for a time-ordinance bureau while your only friend is out on assignments, risking your life to save the world, ending multiple apocalypses. The list could go on forever. They’re only trying to experience normal family milestones, so who are you to get in the way of that.

“No, I’m sorry,” you relent with a remorseful sigh. “I know you’re just trying to be nice, and I’m grateful for how quickly you and your siblings have welcomed me into the family despite how unconventional this all is. I really appreciate it.”

“Good, I’m glad you see it my way,” Allison teases playfully before finishing up the final touches on her masterpiece.

“Knock, knock,” Klaus singsongs from outside your dressing room before letting himself in. Proudly holding up the plastic wrap bag from its hanger, he announces, “Here I am with the dress, and as promised, nothing happened to it under my watch.”

“Thank you, Klaus,” you smile gratefully only for him to return the gesture with an affectionate pinch of your cheek.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I’m just so excited to finally have a little sister!”

“You know I’m technically older than you right?” You retort with a raised brow only for him to press a finger to your lips.

“Shh, don’t ruin this for me,” he gently corrects you before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You don’t miss the way his eyes begin to water at the sight of you with your hair and makeup done, but you’re kind enough not to point it out. Klaus had been the easiest of Five’s siblings to warm up to, always treating you like one of his own and roping you into his mischief despite your fiancé’s protests. The Seance couldn’t even count on one hand how many times you had been there to lend a shoulder for him to cry on when his addiction became too much or offer a supportive hand when his siblings had been less than eager to do so. He adored you, and he could nearly burst with pride at finally being able to call himself your brother.

“Alright, we have thirty minutes left to get you into that dress and down that isle,” Allison announces with a determined clap of her hands before snatching the dress from Klaus. “Are you ready to officially become Mrs. Hargreeves?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you announce with a resigned sigh before immediately being pulled every which way by the two siblings to finish your ensamble.

You can’t wait to get this over with.

~~~

“You nervous?” Viktor whispers with a gentle nudge to Five’s side. Quiet chatter drifts through the air as the handful of guests that are present make conversation to pass the time before the ceremony begins. Neither of you exactly have big families; Five has only ever had his siblings, and your family isn’t exactly supportive of your choice of groom. It’s an intimate affair, but you both prefer it that way.

“Hardly,” he scoffs indignantly, though his need to readjust his tie for the millionth time says otherwise. Five knows that this probably should have happened sooner and promoting you from his partner to his wife has been long overdue. He was honestly surprised you had said yes when he’d finally bit the bullet and asked the question. He loved you, cared for you in a way he never thought possible and in a way that honestly wasn’t quite like him. But you were different, and he hadn’t risked it all trying to end multiple apocalypses just to not marry you once the world was finally safe.

“I’m glad you’re happy, we all are,” his brother notes with a kind smile. “She’s good for you, and she’ll be a good addition to the family.”

Five can’t argue with that. It honestly pains him to think about just how many times you’ve thrown your own life on the line for not just him but his siblings as well. You’ve been there for them even when it wasn’t your responsibility, when they technically weren’t your family yet, even when Five himself wasn’t the best brother to them all. While Five could at times be brash or crude, you were patient and understanding, and this balance helped make their team stronger. You’d make a fine Hargreeves; he wouldn’t be standing here today if that weren’t the case.

Behind the wooden double doors you nervously readjust your veil as you wait for your cue to enter the room. Diego holds your bouquet patiently on your left while Luther fluffs out the skirt of your dress for you on your right. Having no real family present for your big day, you were left without anyone to give you away to your new husband. Diego and Luther had both been eager to throw themselves at the chance to be at your side down the aisle, constantly at each other’s necks arguing over who deserved the right more. Of course, as the bride it was you who got the final say, and the choice couldn’t have been more obvious. You picked them both.

Both men had been put through a lot by your fiancé, from having to carry his drunken form out of a library to dealing with his fits of rage at their inability to meet his deadlines for important tasks, but they had always been kind to you despite the unorthodox nature of your relationship with their brother. Luther had taken several bullets for you before, and Diego hadn’t shied away from being a supportive shoulder to cry on whenever you and Five couldn’t see eye-to-eye. It would feel wrong not to have them both by your side, and they were honored.

“You scared?” Diego questions after noticing your tight grip on his bicep when the music begins. He has to hold back a wince from the way your manicured nails dig into his arm and distracts himself by handing you your bouquet.

“A little,” you answer honestly, harshly swallowing down your nerves when Luther opens the doors for you to walk through.

“You’ve got this,” Diego encourages after pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “If anyone is brave enough to marry my brother, it’s you.”

“Brave or maybe a little insane,” Luther adds under his breath.

You can’t help the small huff of air that pushes past your lips in response to his quip, but you’re given no time to respond as your soon-to-be brother-in-laws escort you to your awaiting husband.

No one can deny how absolutely breath taking you look in your elegantly simple wedding gown, your smile nervous as you make your way towards Five who looks so handsome in his perfectly tailored suit. All day you’ve wanted nothing more than to see him, but now that you’re here you find yourself full of nerves and anxiety.

Luther and Diego give you away at the end of the isle (not without sternly warning Five to take good care of their new sister), and you finally find yourself face-to-face with the man you’ve loved for years.

“You ready for this?” He whispers under his breath as Viktor begins his officiant speech, subtly reaching for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“This won’t be the worst thing we’ve done together,” you note cheekily with a shrug as you hide your smile behind your bouquet, and Five can’t argue with that.

Though his siblings have been better at showing their excitement for this day than you or Five combined, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy to finally be marrying the boy who had been by your side through thick and thin, good and bad, and life and death. Perhaps your love story was a bit unconventional, but unconventionality is a Hargreeves speciality.

You’re going to fit right in.

#request #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #number five x reader #number five imagine #five x reader #five imagine #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine

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eraenaa · 6 months

Text

Birthday Present

Feyd-Rautha x Lady Reader Tag List

Synopsis: During a state visit, you, a daughter of one of the great houses, have captured the attention and fatal attraction of the Na-Baron and were quickly turned into his promised wife.

Warnings: ¿Enemies to Lovers-ish?, Arranged Marriage, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Blood Play, Fingering, Choking, Violence, Murder , Over Stimulation, Not Proofread

Word Count: 5,900 (pls bear with me)

Finally watched Dune: Part Two and needed to make a quick little fic because another psychopath to obsess over with has been unlocked.

You dreaded for this day to come. You begged your father and brother to just leave you in the safety and comfort of your home, but still, they insisted— practically forced you to join them in the business venture they will partake in Giedi Prime. You walked out of the royal ship with your brother by your side, trying hard not to let the frown slip your face, especially when your fine dress had lost its color due to the planet’s black sun. Your eyes trailed around those who were present as a welcoming party for your kin, “Why are they all bald?” You whispered to your brother, who could not help but snort a laugh at your question. It was unnerving to look at them; no warmth nor life was evident. You were escorted inside the palace and it was barely different from the outside, still bleak and dark and plain.

You feel curious eyes trail you as you walk with your family, who are being escorted to meet Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. You clenched your jaw and held your breath as you were met with the head of House Harkonnen. You heard tales about him and his state, but none could prepare you enough to be met with him face to face. If you had thought his subjects were already unnerving to look at, you would gladly give up the gift of sight just as long as you no longer had to see nor remember the image of the gruesome Baron. You quickly planted your eyes on the ground, having looked enough at the man who floated about in the middle of the room that you had missed the way that dark blue eyes were planted steadily on your frame.

“Welcome to Giedi Prime, your Grace,” You hear the Baron greet your Duke father, and you stay silent and hope that they would be quick with the pleasantries and let you retire to rest after the long journey to their dreary planet. You hear the baron address your brother, making him step forward, and you pray for your presence to be ignored, but alas, your name was called, and you feel all eyes upon you. “A beauty this one is, your grace… she looks just like her mother,” The Baron mussed, and you could only offer a tight smile at his praise because you had no recollection of what your mother looked like because the price of your life was hers. You backed away and took your place next to your brother once more as the Baron began to introduce his kin.

“My nephews, Glossu Rabban,” the baron introduced, and your brother nudged you to raise your gaze and show your host respect and recognition. You did as told and locked eyes with the dark blue orbs that had been entranced upon you ever since you entered the throne room. “And Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” You swallowed thickly and turned stiff as the heir to House Harkonnen stepped down and walked toward your direction. Your linked arms with your brother tightened as the Na-Baron paused before you, bowing and taking your hand into his cold ones before placing a kiss on your knuckles. Feyd-Rautha wanted to smirk at the wide-eyed and blushing state he placed you in. The only greeting you gave him was a quick curtsy and a mumble of “My Lord,” The Na-Baron returned to his place at the right hand of his uncle and kept his gaze tranced on you.

“How long are we to stay here?” You asked your father as he and your brother escorted you to your chambers. “Until the treaties are settled,” your father replied, and you scrunched your nose as the eyes of Harkonnen subjects followed you wherever you went. “They’re all staring at you,” Your brother mumbled, noticing the curious gazes as well. “Maybe they haven’t seen anyone with color or hair yet,” You distractedly said as you looked behind, the pair of dark blue eyes still haunting and following your every move. “Did I really have to come here?” You asked your father with a frown. “Yes. We could not leave you alone for an extended period— what will happen if our planet suddenly goes to war and you were there, left alone?” Your father asked, his protectiveness shining through. “Then I’d be surrounded by our army and best warriors.” You replied and earned a stern look from your father. “What am I even supposed to do here?” You grumbled and ceased by the door of your guest chambers. “You can explore the planet— do some sightseeing.” He answered, but that only severe your frown. “Sightsee what? Everything here is either black or gray— either bleak or depressing” You said, making your father sigh. “Just get ready for dinner,” He said, and you gave up on fighting them and their decision to drag you to the planet.

A knock sounded out in your barren chambers. You understood that the palace was pushing some kind of aesthetic, but they took it to an extremity. There was literally just a bed and an armchair in your chambers. A very stark difference from your own room or even the guest chambers in your planet’s palace. Your handmaid opened the door whilst you looked at yourself in the mirror; you were to be escorted by your brother and were expecting him by the door, but hearing the gasp from your handmaid told you otherwise. You looked toward the chamber room door and saw the Na-Baron standing by its threshold; your maid stood by the side, head hung low, and was quietly trembling in fear.

“Can we help you, Na-Baron?” You asked and smoothened the fabric of your gown. Trying your best not to appear unnerved by his dark gaze or his imposing demeanor. “I am to escort you to the dining room, my lady,” He said and offered his arm for you to take; you made no move to do so. “Oh…my brother was—“ you slightly frown as he cuts you off. “He is already there with your father,” He said, and you licked your lips and hesitantly nodded, having no choice but to take his offer to escort you.

Feyd eyes curiously at the gown you fashioned and the decorations in your hair. You were a deep and vivid contrast between him and his planet. Your dress made of velvet trained behind you, the heavy and overflowing cloth cutting through the silence between you and the heir of House Harkonnen. You did not know if you should converse with him or just remain silent. And if you did choose the former, what topic of conversation would you even propose to the fearsome— psychotic warrior that is the Na-Baron?

“How are you finding Giedi Prime, my lady?” His deep and raspy voice cut through the silence, and you thought of an embellished reply that would not offend the warrior. “Different… I— it is most unique, Na-Baron,” You manage to say after a short while, Feyd noting how you struggled to give a kind reply, your brows in a furrow, and your lips would open and close as you thought of what to say.

You finally could breathe freely, and your stiffened form turned lax when the Na-Baron escorted you to your seat next to your brother and let go of his hold on your hand. You tried your best to keep your gaze away from any of the Harkonnens as you feared they would immediately see the fear and agitation in your eyes. “Is this human?” You lowly whispered to your brother, poking the cut of unidentified meat on your plate. Feyd smirked to himself as he heard the fear in your voice— overly wary, and it would seem the tales of their house had been implanted in your pretty little head. “It is cattle, my lady… but if you do prefer human flesh, our cooks could arrange that for you,” Feyd-Rautha relished at how your eyes widened and your cheeks blossomed with color once more. It was an interesting reaction that he had never been accustomed to see. “No, this is fine,” You quickly said and did not miss the amused smirk on the Na-Baron’s pale lips.

The following day, you were set to tour around the planet with your brother along with the Na-Baron. You three had just stepped out of the palace and into the light of the black sun when your brother was suddenly summoned to attend the negotiations. You took a sharp breath and turned to your sibling, widening your eyes and silently willing him not to leave you alone in the presence of the Na-Baron. Your brother could only shrug and place a quick, chaste kiss on the top of your head as he ran back inside the castle walls.

An awkward and uneasy silence followed you and your host as the tour began. Guards following the both of you in the direction of a large structure— that is as specific as you can get as the resident of the planet has still said no word as to where he was leading you.

“This… is the arena,” the Na-Baron finally said, and you could hear the delight in his tone as if the brutal and triangular infrastructure had brought him calm and serenity. You nodded your head and wandered your eyes upon the high walls and countless seats that surrounded you. “You shall return here soon enough, a special celebration to take place in a few days,” You hear him say as your gaze was still stuck high above where you were guessing private boxes were placed. When Feyd did not hear your reply, he stepped closer and boldly placed a hand on your waist, making you jump in shock and quickly step away. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He asked. He usually was quiet, only speaking when he thought it necessary and the silence he provided brought an additional sense of mystery to him. But with you… he could not restrain himself as he felt the want— the need to speak. An urge he had never had before, an urge he could not control.

“I prefer more to listen, my lord,” you answered, a white lie on your lips. You love to talk and blab about anything and everything, but you just did not want to exercise such habits with or around him, fearing he’ll grow annoyed by your yapping and slit your throat— a habit you heard he was fond of. You heard the Na-baron hum, and you avoided his gaze as he stared you down, as if trying to deduce if what you had said was the truth.

You followed the Na-Baron as he led you to more sights and structures that the Harkonnens take pride in. But everywhere you two went, you could not be rid of the curious and wondering gazes that followed. It was not a new scene; being a duke’s daughter meant you had been accustomed and exposed to the public. But being exposed and stared at and gawked at by people so different than you felt entirely unnerving. It made your skin crawl and your body tense uncomfortably. Your once proud and straight stature turned demure and small as you walked the dark and gray halls of the castle, you being the only thing of color and vividness in there, making you feel out of place and suffocated by the plainness.

The Na-Baron escorted you back to the guest wing and paused by your door; you quickly curtsied and disappeared behind the metal doors to finally put some space and distance between you and the lord you had been forced to spend the day with. Feyd’s jaw clenched as the metal doors closed upon him; if it were anyone else, his patience would have run thin, and he would not looked kindly upon your impertinence. But even in your boorish actions, the Na-Baron could not help but find it amusing— possibly even endearing.

As you were finished being prepared for yet another dinner, you turned to the doors once more at the sound of the opening, revealing your brother. “How was the tour?” He asked and sat by your bed as you stood in the mirror and adorned yourself with the precious metals and jewels. “When are we to leave? I… I would very much like to return home.” Was your reply as you still felt your skin crawl at how the eyes of the Na-Baron would asses you and your every move. “That bad, huh?” Your brother mused, and you sighed heavily. “I do not like it here, brother… I cannot… this place is entirely bleak and depressing.” You reasoned, and your brother only shook his head at your bellyaching.

“They barely even have furniture! Their sun is black… there are no gardens or greenery and flowers to admire— I am quite literally the most vivid thing here!” You suddenly exploded, but your brother could only laugh. “Just a few more days, sister… we were most productive earlier. You’ll only have to endure this planet and its plainness for a few days more,” Your brother said, and you solemnly nodded your head, willing yourself to endure and be patient as your whole being wanted nothing but to return home.

True to the Na-Baron’s words, you and your kin were in the triangular arena a few days later. A grand celebration for the birthday of the heir of House Harkonnen. Feyd-Rautha stepped out into the black sun and walked onto the pit with the screams and cheers of his house’s subjects. His eyes cast above and searched for only one being— an attention he seeks to be entranced upon him. The Na-Baron felt his lips curl wickedly as your eyes were upon him, seated in the royal box next to your brother. Your expression trying not to show contempt or disapproval. The Na-Baron was known for his skills in fighting— he is the greatest warrior there is. Everyone was impressed and in awe by his skills in combat, and he was certain that it, too, would impress you.

You clenched your jaw and turned your head to the side as the Na-Baron was relentless in fighting the remaining members of House Atreides. You planted your gaze on your lap and fisted the fabric of your dress as you hear the land of steel and the grunts of prisoners. You took a deep inhale as your brother nudged you once more, urging you to watch the scene as it would be an offense if the Baron caught you ignoring the efforts of his favored nephew. You swallowed thickly and returned your eyes towards the men who fought; there was only one opponent now.

Feyd-Rautha returned his gaze to you, delighting as you still had your eyes upon him. There was only one prisoner now, only one more man between him and the amazement he thought he would garner from you with his violent display. But as Feyd-Rautha set his eye on the final prisoner, his jaw ticked, and his hold on his blade tightened as he noticed that the Atreides prisoner was not drugged. He turned his spiteful gaze to his uncle, the vile man simply smirking and giving a nod of his head. Dark blue eyes flickered at you, who had her lip between he teeth in anxiousness. The Na-Baron squared his shoulders and refocused; he could not be made a fool nor a failure when the eyes of his planet were upon him— not when your eyes were upon him. As always, Feyd-Rautha emerged victorious in battle.

“The slave wasn’t drugged,” Feyd said as he stood before his uncle, his form rigged still with the pestering feeling that he might have failed and been humiliated under your gaze. You tried to kill me?” he gritted out, but his uncle was merely amused. “Tonight, you are a hero… my gift to you,” The Baron explained, but that did not sedate the rage in the Na-Baron’s being. “I ought to drown you in that tub,” he snarled, but his uncle chuckled at his threat. “Don’t be hasty… I have another gift for you,” that piqued Feyd’s interest. “A bigger one,” his uncle added. “The girl, the duke’s daughter.” With just the mention of you, the Baron noted the quick shift in his nephew’s temperament. Desire shining through his rage.

Feyd’s lips staggered as he thought of a reply, as he thought of how his uncle was able to acquire you for him as if you were some mere whore and not a daughter of one of the great houses. “Her father approved?” He asked and saw as a smirk rose to the lips of his uncle. “He had no choice but to… if he wanted the treaties to take place and for war to not come to their planet— he must offer his daughter to you.” Feyd let a rare and sincere grin slip his lips with the thought of you being bound to him.

By the guest wing, an ugly discussion was taking place. “Father, you cannot be serious,” You all but cried, “To that psychotic Na-Baron!?” You screamed with tears streaming down your face. You knew it; you knew coming to Giedi Prime was a mistake— your intuition warned you greatly, but you ignored it and complied with your father’s wishes and orders. “There was no other way. I’m sorry,” Your father sighed and tried to take hold of you to calm you down. “You would leave me here to be his bride? You would leave me here vulnerable in the desolate walls of these Harkonnens?” You cried in pain, but your expression turned confused as your father shook his head.

“The Na-Baron, your betrothed, will be heir to Arakis… you shall stay and rule there with him.” You hear the hopeful tone in your father’s voice as he tells you that you will be the lady of the most coveted seat and planet in the universe. “You… you cannot do this to me— please do not do this to me, father, I beg of you,” You cried, only crying harder as your father took you into his arms and offered you his apologies once more. Nothing can be done; you were now promised to the fearsome and formidable Na-Baron.

They arranged for you to acquaint yourself more with your soon-to-be husband. Servants of House Harkonnen escorted you to him, and you followed mindlessly, but your stomach pitted in fear as you realized you had been led to the Na-Baron’s chambers. Your lips agape, and looked behind to see the servants hurriedly shuffling out of the Na-Baron’s room. You felt yourself grow cold and the life in your face went pale. You cautiously looked around the chambers and saw three women by your right, dressed and styled differently than the servants. The presence of women used to always bring you comfort in uncertain scenarios, but the three present did not aid your raging fear.

“What’s so special about her?” You hear one of them drawl to the other, and you feel your lips upturn in confused fear. “Such a pitiful thing… weak and so fragile, could not even stomach to watch our lord handsomely fighting those puny slaves,” You frown and finally turn to them, the three just as eerie and disturbing to look at as any of their people, maybe even more so. “So what does she have to be rewarded with our great master Feyd-Rautha?” A third girl asked, and that is when you realized what their roles were. They looked at you expectantly, trying to know what you possessed to be rewarded or punished with the title of the Na-Baron’s betrothed. “I do not know,” you began, “Perhaps hair? Or sanity? Take your pick.” You boldly replied and watched as their teasing and amused looks turned scathing and jealous. Before any of them could make another remark, the sound of the door opening and boots walking the floor echoed through the room. Your expression was hard as you watched the three girls lower their heads demurely and out of respect as their master entered.

“Ah, my future wife… I see you have met my darlings,” You turned to your betrothed, a smirk on his lips and his dark eyes sickeningly delighted as he was in a room filled with women he was certain would bring him much pleasure. You licked your lips and crossed your arms across your chest, your gaze flying to the three women who brazenly insulted you just mere moments ago. “You whores,” You boldly stated and let a fleeting smirk fly to your lips as you heard them hiss at your true statement. “My darlings.” Feyd-Rauth corrected, defending his loyal pets. You hummed and nodded your head. Finally, matching the fiery gaze of the Na-Baron. Every second you held his gaze, Feyd felt himself tighten against his trousers. You had always shielded your gaze from him, never letting him stare deep into those enchanting and lively eyes, and now that he did, all he wanted to do was stare into them, watch as tears would form when he made you cry in pleasure.

“I always thought whores are acquired after marriage, but I suppose the Na-Baron is always one step ahead,” You bitterly mused at the man across from you, expecting him to grow enraged as you called his ‘darlings’ whores once more. But instead of rage, you only saw the smirk on the Na-Baron’s lips widen. “Are you jealous, little wife?” He asked and threaded closer, you let a frown slip your pretty face and a scoff left your lips. “Do not call me that,” You gritted. “And no, I am not… in all honesty, I am relieved in their existence if it means that you would be preoccupied and far from me and my bed; you could have a hundred ‘darlings’ for all I care,” You stood your ground no matter how your mind went alarmed at the murderous look on your betrothed’s once amused expression.

You chewed your cheeks as the Na-Baron silently motioned for the three women to step closer. You thought he was testing you, to see if you were truly unbothered and not at all jealous that your future husband was being satisfied by other women, but you gasped in horror as Feyd-Rautha swiftly took his dagger and slit the throats of his three pets. They fell at your feet, and you could only watch and step back in horror at the scene of black blood pooling and spewing from their throats. You were trembling, and Feyd-Rautha took you into his arms, forcing your face to look at him, enjoying the horror in your eyes. “Now, nothing will keep me from you and your bed, wife,” he lowly whispered, and you were defenseless as he captured your lips. Hungrily kissing you and pulling you impossibly closer to him to feel the softness of your frame as blood flooded under your feet.

All was quick to fall into place. One moment, it was announced you were to be wed to the heir of House Harkonnen, and the next, you were being prepared for the actual ceremonies. You felt bile rising and tears falling as you stared at yourself in the mirror. A gown of white in the make and design of your home planet rather than the fashion of Giedi Prime. “You look beautiful, sister,” Your brother complimented quietly. He, too, turned solemn as he had no way to protect you from the arrangements made behind closed doors. “Let’s just get this over with,” You mumbled and took his arm for what you believed would be the last time.

You were being escorted down the aisle by your father, Feyd-Rautha’s eyes upon you impatiently; he could no longer wait any further and suffer through the ceremonies and banquets before he had you alone in his chambers. After your kiss two nights prior, you quickly left the chambers and left the Na-Baron to want and desire more. Each moment that had passed has left him hard and strained, with no other outlet for his needs to be quenched and met; his only choice was to wait for you to be his wife.

It should shame you to admit, but the kiss you shared with the Na-Baron didn’t leave you disgusted. It was alarming to note that your body had turned warm, and throughout the night, your thoughts strayed to wanting more. You had been kissed before, once, but it was nothing compared to the way Feyd-Rautha kissed your lips.

You stood by his side as a man in front spoke in a language you could not comprehend or understand. The only thing your mind could focus on was the way the Na-Baron’s hand held yours. Cold and calloused palms enclosed around warm and soft ones. You raised your gaze as the man in front of the two of you finally spoke words you understood, announcing to the room that you and the Na-Baron were officially husband and wife. You set your eyes upon Feyd-Rautha, whose dark eyes were on your lips. Letting go of your hand and taking hold of your face to kiss your lips without warning. It was a quicker kiss than the one shared the previous night, and you were dismayed yourself as your body wanted more, so much more.

Feyd smirked as he saw color bloom onto your cheeks and felt its warmness against his cold touch. No word was exchanged as he escorted you through the aisle, the cheers of his subjects ringing loudly; absent were the reactions of you and your kin. You were still silent during the banquet, only offering a ghost of a smile when you two were approached and presented with ‘congratulations.’ You tried to ignore the way your body responded when your husband placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze now and then through the fabric of your gown. “You look ravishing, my darling,” You hear him whisper in your ear, his warm breath sending a chill down your spine.

“Do not call me that,” you gritted as you had no wish to share an endearment he used with his whores. Feyd smirked as he believed that heard a hint of jealousy in your honey voice, “And what would you like to be called, wife?” He asked, and you clenched your jaw and thighs as that brought a surprising twist in your core. Your reaction was not missed by the Na-Baron, a wicked smirk spreading to his lips and his hand inching higher from your thigh. “Tell me, wife… are you too as excited as I am for the bedding?” He teased and nipped your ear, making you gasp, turning to him with shock and wanting-filled eyes. Your eyes shifted from his dark blue orbs to his plush lips, and the desire for it to be against you became increasingly prominent. You gulped as his eyes turned impossibly darker and his jaw clenched, you took a sharp intake of breath as he abruptly stood. “The feast is finished, leave.” That was all he said before he urged you to stand and dragged you to his chambers.

You were like putty in his arms as he pushed you up against the cold wall of his chambers. Your lips roughly danced against each other, and his hands hiked up your wedding dress, leaving fire with his cold touch. For days, you had convinced yourself you felt no attraction to the man who had his lips on you’re neck and hand against your cunt. “You are a great actress, wife. Making me believe you hated me— wanted nothing to do with me, but that cannot be true, not when your cunt is so wet and ready for me.” You gasped as he inserted his finger inside you without warning— the feeling foreign, and you did not know if you should embrace the uncomfortability or the prospect that pleasure was quick to bloom. “So tight… my little wife had never been defiled— that shall change,” He mused against your lips, swallowing your whine when he inserted another finger inside your wet cunt.

“M-My lord,” You cried at the curl of his finger; you heard him ‘tsk’ and rub his thumb against the sensitive bundles of nerves on your cunt. “Enough with the formalities. I am your husband, and you will call me by my name— you will scream my name when you come.” Your eyes rolled back as his other hand clasped around your neck, your husband thrilled and overjoyed as you only clenched tightly around him, and a pleasured moan slipped past your lips. He thought he’d have to be gentle with you— that he would scare you with his savage desires, but as he felt you cling and clench to him as he added more pressure around your throat, he knew you would be able to take and would be grateful for his brazenness in fucking.

“Feyd… Feyd!” You cried as you felt your thighs tremble and your core painfully twists in want of release. You whined and cried as you felt his fingers slip out of you, your knees weak and your body desperate for release. “Patience, little wife,” Your husband cruelly mussed, his eyes locked upon you as he licked the essence of you clean from his fingers. You moaned as his lips met yours again, tasting yourself as his tongue teased yours. You whimpered as he placed his rough hands tights on your hips, imprinting his mark and making it known to you that he was yours. You groaned as he bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, him pulling away to admire the red the beaded on your plump, sweet lips. “Such a pretty color…” he murmured and bought his finger to wipe away the blood and taste it, you growing more aroused as a rumble emerged from his throat. Feyd watched as more blood dripped from your lips, and he wasted not a drop of it, kissing and tasting all of you.

Feyd moved the two of you to his bed, pushing you down on the soft, silk-coved mattress. You swallowed thickly as he took out his dagger once more, a grin on his lips as he saw a speck of fear in your eyes. “Such a beauty you look in this dress… but I know you’ll look better without it,” He took the dagger and cut through your fine gown, nicking your stomach on the way. Feyd zeroed in on your sweet blood once more, his eyes hungrily taking in your body that was now exposed to him. “Oh…” You moaned as his tongue soothed the cut he made, his tongue teasing you as it would thread lower but would return to the cut every time it oozed blood. “Feyd… please,” You finally relinquished and let your needs be known. He hummed as his cock grew harder at your moans.

“What do you want, little wife?” he hummed and took a deep breath of your scent. You whined as his tongue teased your navel, and his lips threaded further south but quickly moved north again. You moaned as his black teeth gently bit your bosom, his cold hand pawing at the other, your nipples taut by his cold hand and hot tongue. “Tell me, little wife, what do you want?” You whimpered again as nipped your skin once more, “You. I… I want you,” You finally said and yelled when Feyd flipped you to your stomach. Anticipation sat heavily as you heard him shuffling to remove his clothing. You breathed harshly as you felt his hands on your behind, kneading the smooth, plump flesh; his thumb teasingly brushed your cunt, and you were quick to moan.

“What did you want again, my pretty wife?” He hummed by your ear, his toned body pressing against your back, his throbbing cock resting on your derrière. “You, I want you. Please, Feyd… I— please just fuck me,” You cried and let go of any pride you had in exchange for feeling pleasure. You howled as his thick and large length pushed its way inside you. Feyd hissing as the tip of his cock was being squeezed by your cunt. You were wet, galaxies, you were wet. But not wet enough for your husband’s cock to slip inside comfortably. Friction and resistance were prominent, and Feyd enjoyed that tremendously. Excruciating pain first had to be felt before you could feel the pleasure that you were desperate for.

You gasped and felt tears rim your eyes as a cold hand found home around your neck again. “So fucking tight… all fucking mine,” Feyd hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you; his hand felt the trickle of pained tears, and he was determined to turn it into tears of pleasure. “Such a good wife taking all of me,” He praised and squeezed your neck tighter. You whimpered and raised your gaze, only now noticing that the wall that your husband’s bed rested upon was entirely reflective that you could see him in all of his glory. Knelt behind you and a pleasured expression on his face as he gradually moved his length in and out of you.

It felt like eons before you finally felt pleasure, but when it finally came, it was the most blissful feeling you had experienced in your life. The way he harshly gripped your throat, the way that his lips would pepper kisses on your shoulders and back, was enough to quickly drive you into climax. One where you screamed and called for his name, begging him to slow down, but he did no such thing. Only increased his speed and moved his hand to draw circles upon your bundle of nerves, coaxing another climax from you, making you scream his name louder and your body over-sensitive. “Feyd, Feyd, no more, please,” You cried as your whole body was already exhausted and trembling.

“I do not understand you, wife. Just earlier, you were begging for this… you were begging to be fucked by me.” He grunted as he, too, felt his peak to come. He moved his hands to bundle your hair, the texture so soft and foreign, his fingers running through the locks and pulling it to make you groan. “Such a perfect cunt, such a perfect wife. You will sire me many heirs… you will always be my side.” Feyd groaned as you squeezed his length tighter and tighter to the point he felt pleasurable pain. You hear his animalistic growl when he finally spills himself deep inside of you, watching through the reflective wall as his face contorted into sheer pleasure, his rasping voice repeating your name as you feel both of your essences drip on the inside of your thigh.

He moved your head for your lips to meet with his again, him biting down to draw blood once more. You pulled away and gasped for air as well as gasped in shock as you felt his once limped and just emptied length grow erect inside you. “Did you truly think we were finished?” He asked against your lips. “I’m going to fuck and breed you until you’re unable to walk, little wife.”

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd oneshot #dune part two #austin butler #harkonnen #dune 2 #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #dune x reader #house harkonnen #great houses #na-baron harkonnen

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cordeliawhohung · 2 months

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soap x f!reader | drabble

cw: smut, dub-con voyeurism, religious talk and standards, virginity taking/hymen breaking, breeding kink, just a lot of fucking filth, unrealistic sex, this was just an idea i need to get out of my brain so i can work on something else lmao

You always knew Johnny was a traditional and devout Catholic, but you didn't think he'd consummate your marriage with an audience; let alone in front of the members of his task force.

"It's okay," he coos softly. Soft sheets sprawl underneath your bare body as your wide eyes catch sight of the three men entering the hotel suite. Shaky hands grab Johnny's arms as you attempt to bury yourself in his exposed skin to save yourself any sort of embarrassment. You recognize them instantly as attendants of your wedding — they're even still wearing their suits — but that doesn't ease your anxiety any further. "They're just 'ere tae watch. Ah work with them. Trust them with mah life. Won't speak a word."

There are only so many chairs in the room for them to take. John, who you remember being introduced to earlier that night as Johnny's captain, drags one of the office chairs to the foot of the bed. He sits with a polite smile, as if you're meeting for Sunday brunch. Kyle does the same, both of them sitting, legs spread far, knees nearly knocking together. The lieutenant, Simon, doesn't make himself nearly as comfortable. He stands behind them, arms crossed over a broad chest as his eyes wander your body, taking in the sight of your soft skin and neatly done bridal makeup. Your skin perks, prompting you to cover yourself with your arms as a chill racks your body.

"To watch?" you repeat, teeth sinking into your lower lip. "I don't... I don't know, Johnny."

"We have tae," he presses, fingers ghosting over your cheek and turning your attention to him. The mazarine hue of his eyes bores into you as he leans up, hand wandering over your torso until he rests on your stomach. "Everyone has tae know this bairn A'm gonna give ye is mine."

"But, I've never-" you begin to protest.

"I know ye haven't," he shushes. "This is how it's always been done. Tradition, aye? Please, mah love."

You love Johnny. You wouldn't have married him if you didn't. But this strong ambivalence is torturous. It tingles up your spine in line with the watchful eyes at the foot of your bed. But you love Johnny, and if this is what he wants, then you'll give it to him.

"Okay," you eventually concede.

He grins. "Ah love ye."

When his lips meet yours, you feel the warm beads of his rosary rest on your chest. He had you pray with him before this. Kneeling next to the bed, elbows resting on the mattress, thanking the Lord for your union and the child you'll eventually bring to this world. Despite tradition, consummating your marriage this way feels blasphemous, put on display for his teammates to see like a whore rather than a wife.

Johnny's hand begins to wander between your legs, rubbing over your clit in a way that leaves your hips bucking into his touch. You rarely touch yourself like this, too afraid to revel in sin, but his touch is searing. Unfamiliar and burning. He chuckles, warm and low, as his fingers begin to prod further, relentless ardor exuding from his body. When he presses into your cunt and meets resistance, he pauses, eyebrows furrowing as he leans back.

"Spread yer legs for me, lovely," he prompts.

Body stuck on auto pilot, you listen before your brain has time to process his request. Knees bent, your thighs separate as the heels of your feet dig into the soft mattress, and Johnny wastes no time spreading the lips of your pussy for the boys to see.

"Christ," John groans. "She's still intact."

You make the mistake of looking past Johnny, and you see the way the boys paw at themselves. Chubbed cocks straining against the pristine fabric of their dress pants, palms rubbing at themselves for any fraction of relief.

"Look at ye, so lovely," Johnny sighs. He settles between your legs, body blocking the view of your bare, unfucked cunt. He tugs at his aching cock, and this is the first time you've allowed yourself to push past your bashfulness and look at it. Delicate reddened skin, a thick base and heavy veins — he's going to tear you apart. "Gonna let me have ye? Tell me yer mine."

You swallow the discomfiture stuck in your throat. "I'm yours, Johnny."

There's no more time to waste — he presses into you, leaky tip butting against the thin membrane of your hymen. Pressure builds as he pushes, and your eyes screw tight at the sting as thin skin stretches and accommodates his length.

"Go on, love," Kyle prompts. "Don't hold back now."

You whimper, but you don't know if it's from the teasing or from Johnny finally bottoming out. Wide eyes stare down between your legs where the two of you are joined, and you see the slight tinge of blood that covers the base of his cock. You groan as your head hits the pillow, never having felt so full in your entire life.

"Fuckin' hell. Hardly gave 'er any time to adjust, you dog," Simon teases through a grunt.

Johnny's hips slowly move back, leaving you empty for only a split moment before he pushes forward again, hips hitting yours with a lewd slap. You gasp, air being sucked free from your lungs as he grinds deep inside of you, in a place where no one else has been.

"Cannae help maself," he breathes, face burrowing into the side of your neck. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck, holding him close as you drown your moans into his skin. "Have'ta give mah wife the best. Cannae settle for any less. Need'ta give her a sweet bairn, just like Ah promised."

Your mind goes blank as more moaning and grunts join in harmony with yours and Johnny's. Belts become undone with quiet clinks followed quickly by sticky skin on skin contact as the boys rut into their own palms. There's no time to feel bashful about their transgressions in your presence. Pure hedonia captures your mind, numbing anything else as Johnny's thumb presses against your clit. You tighten around him, and he growls against your throat.

Something overwhelms him. Makes him insatiable as his cock pistons into you at a relentless pace. When you finally get your eyes to open through it all, a halo of light illuminates behind him as if he were an angel. Soft, defused, and gentle as the rosary around his neck swings with his movements. You feel something build inside of you, a needy pressure that expands in the heat of your stomach, where it grows, and grows, and grows until-

"J-Johnny, f... fuck!"

It's a sin to enjoy sex. You've known as much since you were young. But this is the closest to heaven you've ever felt. Not even praising God in the pews of your grandiose church has ever brought you this much bliss. The curse falls from your lips as that pressure snaps, body convulsing, pussy clenching around Johnny as if to draw him in, beckoning, demanding he give what he's promised.

And he does. Stuttering hips seize as his cock pulses inside of you, and you swear you feel every single throb as his body pins yours to the bed, warm sweat staining the sheets. He sows his seed, and you feel tears prick the corner of your eyes at the utter ardor you harbor for him in your heart.

When Johnny pulls out, he keeps your legs spread wide to show the boys, each of whom have made messes of themselves. Wasted cum coats their fingers where they quickly clean themselves up on handkerchiefs, eyes still glued to your leaking cunt. Simon mutters something about you dripping, that he shouldn't let his work go to waste, and Johnny agrees by gathering his spend on his fingers and shoving it back inside of you. They chuckle at the way you jolt.

Just as promised, the boys leave once everything is clean, each of them muttering congratulations as the hotel room door shuts behind them. But he can't stop himself there. He lies with you as you both catch your breaths, but it's only minutes before he's shoving his cock into you once more. You whimper, tell him that you shouldn't have sex more than necessary, that it's a terrible sin you'll both have to repent for, but he coos and tells you not to worry. He just wants to make sure his seed takes. That he gives you what he swore he would.

"Besides," he whispers, lips brushing against your ear just as his cock hits your cervix, "don't have'tae hold back anymore with the boys gone. Can have mah lovely wife all to maself now."

#soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader smut #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader smut #cod smut

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rafecameronssl4t · 7 days

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How would Sarah and Wheezie react to baby Leo

Cameron’s meet Leo || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: before I wrote this. I realised that Sarah is older than reader, even though it's just a year older 🤯

Warnings: allusion to ppd, slight angst

Word count: 618

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

You were no stranger to the scrutiny that came with your public life, but today felt different. Strolling through the bustling café with Leo in his pram, you felt a new layer of attention. The quiet coos and whispers that followed you as you approached your table were unmistakable. “Mrs. Cameron, this way, please,” the waitress said with a warm smile, leading you to where Wheezie and Sarah were waiting.

As you neared the table, Wheezie's eyes widened, her excitement palpable. “Oh my god!” she exclaimed, her gaze fixed on Leo, who blinked up at her with wide, curious eyes. Sarah, catching Wheezie’s reaction, turned with a grin. “Wheezie, calm down. Let her sit,” Sarah said, her tone both amused and gently reprimanding. She rose to greet you, enveloping you in a hug and planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Congratulations,” she beamed, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “Thank you, Sarah,” you replied, smiling as you removed your sunglasses and rested them on top of your head. You rocked Leo's pram with soft pushes, glancing at his tiny face that was a spiting image of Rafe. As you settled into your seat, you noticed a pair of young women walking by, their heads turned as they whispered to each other.

Their stares were unmistakable, their curiosity veiled but obvious. Sarah’s gaze followed yours, her concern evident. “We could move to a more private area if you’d prefer,” she suggested, her voice laced with empathy. You offered a polite smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “No, it’s fine, really,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease stirring within. You cleared your throat, trying to push aside the discomfort.

You focused on Leo, seeking solace in the serene, innocent presence of your son as the chatter around you continued. "So, how's being a mother treating you?" Sarah innocently says with a smile as her and Wheezie focus on you. You take a moment to answer, your eyes flickering to Leo. "Uh- It's been okay. I've been getting help, especially since you know, Rafe has been travelling lately."

You honestly answer as Sarah nods. "When does he get back, do you know?" "This Friday. He was supposed to get back today actually from London, but a last minute meeting stopped him." You answer as Sarah hums in understanding. "You know you can always call us if you need help right?" Sarah says and you smile, grateful for her offer. Breakfast arrived and you all chatted away until Wheezie speaks up.

“Isn’t it kinda crazy that you’re older than Y/n—” Wheezie glanced at Sarah, who was about to interject, “—only by a year—” Sarah began to protest, but Wheezie pressed on, “—and Y/n already has a baby?” You felt a slight jolt at Wheezie’s observation, taking a sip of your water to mask your reaction. Her question, though innocent, stung more than you expected. You knew there was no malice behind it, but it highlighted a disparity that you weren’t entirely comfortable with.

“Crazy, right?” you said with a chuckle, trying to keep your voice light. Sarah’s eyes softened with sympathy, her gaze lingering on you as she sensed the subtle shift in your mood. You glanced down at the plate of pancakes before you, barely touched and now cold. The sight of the untouched food seemed to amplify the unease simmering beneath the surface.

You forced a smile, determined to stay engaged with the conversation and push aside the disquiet Wheezie’s innocent remark had stirred within you. The effort to remain present felt like a balancing act, your focus shifting between the cheerful chatter around you and the uncomfortable thoughts you tried to suppress.

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aceyalonso · 8 days

Text

that's the thing about illicit affairs - OSCAR PIASTRI

pairing : ex!oscar piastri x fem!reader ↳ slight lando x fem!reader at the end

summary : a maid of honor and a groom that she knows all too well, only one of them gets their happy ending.

warnings : swearing, drinking, fighting, relationship issues, mentions of settling down, marriage, majority of story takes place in 2027

word count : 6.5k

song : illicit affairs - taylor swift

a/n : happy 400 followers with a not so happy post! and a special ty to @iamred-iamyellow for convincing me to write this <3

September 10th, 2024

Y/n lifted her head from Oscar's chest, shifting her position to look at him directly. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. "Have you ever thought about getting engaged or married someday?"

Oscar's expression turned slightly cautious as Y/n asked the question. He paused for a moment, thinking about it. Finally, he responded, "Well... I haven't really given it much though, to be honest. I've been focused on our relationship and enjoying our time together."

He shifted a bit on the couch, now sitting up straight. His gaze remained fixed on Y/n as he continued. "Why do you ask? Is it something you've been thinking about?"

Y/n nodded, a mild sense of disappointment showing on her face at the realization that Oscar hadn't seriously thought about it yet. "I was just wondering. It's something that's been on my mind for a while."

The conversation turned into a more serious tone as the topic escalated to an argument. The initial lighthearted mood was replaced with tension and disagreement between Y/n and Oscar.

Y/n's frustration began to show on her face, her voice getting slightly louder. "I don't understand why you haven't thought about it yet. We've been together for 3- Almost 4 years, Oscar."

Oscar's initial surprise at the escalation of the argument slowly turned to frustration as well. He responded, his voice rising slightly as well. "It's not that I don't want to marry you, it's just... I don't know if I'm ready for it yet. The thought of getting engaged or married is a huge commitment.

Y/n scoffed a bit, her agitation growing. "I know it's big commitment. But that's exactly why it's important to discuss it and be on the same page about our future. I need to know what we agree and don't agree on!"

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't want you to feel like I'm avoiding the topic, but it feels like you're putting pressure on me to make this decision. I just need more time to think about it, alright?"

Y/n crossed her arms, clearly dissatisfied with Oscar's response. She lets out a huff before responding. "More time? We've been together for years, and still need more time to think about it? How much more time do you need?"

Oscar's irritation grew at Y/n's response. He raised his voice slightly, matching her heightened tone. "I understand that we've been together for a long time, but that doesn't mean I have to be ready to get engaged or married right now. And constantly pressuring me about it isn't going to make ready any faster.

Y/n shot back with a bit more heat in her words. "I'm not trying to pressure, I just want some clarity about our future. It's not unreasonable to expect some form of commitment after being together for this long. You make it sound like you're not even sure if you want to marry me at all!"

Oscar's expression hardened at Y/n's accusation. "That's not fair. You know I love you, and I don't doubt our relationship. But marriage is a big step, and I want to be absolutely certain that we're both ready and willing to commit to it for the rest of our lives."

Y/n let out an exasperated sigh, feeling increasingly frustrated. "I understand that, but I feel like you're keeping me in limbo. You can't ask for more time without giving me some assurances that you do see a future with me. I need some sort of confirmation that we're on the same page here."

Oscar let out a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "Okay, look, I do see a future with you. I do want to be with you for the rest of my life, alright? I just need more time to mentally prepare for the idea of getting engaged or married. It's a lot to process all at once."

Y/n relaxed slightly at Oscar’s reassurance, but their concerns still lingered on their face. “That’s good to hear, but it’s still not enough for me. I need more than just words. I need some kind of proof that you’re serious about our future together.”

Oscar, now clearly irritated, threw his hands up in desperation. “What more assurance do you need? I just told you that I see a future with you and that I love you. What else could you possibly want from me? A written guarantee? A legal contract?”

Y/n, equally frustrated, shot back with an aggressive tone. “No, I don’t need a written contract. I just need some sort of action, some steps towards making our future together a reality. You keep telling me you’re sure about us, but then you hesitate when it comes to actually making a commitment.”

The argument continued to escalate, both Y/n and Oscar becoming more frustrated and emotional. Y/n’s voice continued to raise, their words now filled with frustration and hurt. “I can’t believe you’re still making excuses. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one who wants to take our relationship to the next level. You keep stalling, and it makes me question if you really want to marry me at all!”

Oscar, in his frustration and anger, snapped back with a hurtful remark. “You know what, if you keep acting like this, maybe I won’t marry you at all! At least I'll be free from you and your stupid neediness!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The pain and shock on Y/N’s face were evident, and he knew he had crossed a line.

Y/n stood up from the sofa, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke. "Fine, if that's really what you want, then it won't happen. If you don't see a future with me, if you don't want to marry me, then there's nothing more to discuss."

Y/n, moving with purpose, made her way to the bedroom. There, she hastily grabbed a suitcase from the closet and began stuffing it with clothes and essentials. A sense of anger and determination filled her actions, her emotions still heightened from the argument.

Meanwhile, Oscar followed behind, trying to stop Y/n form leaving. He entered the bedroom and pleaded with her, his voice filled with regret and desperation. "Where are you going? You can't just leave like this!"

Y/n snapped back at him, her voice still angry and strained. "I can and I will. You just made it clear that you don't see a future with me. What am I supposed to do? Stay and keep hoping that someday you'll change your damn mind?!"

Oscar, his emotions conflicting, tried to find the words to convince Y/n to stay. "I didn't mean it. I was just so frustrated and angry, I didn't what I was saying. Please, don't go. We need to talk this through."

Y/n, who was still packing her suitcase, paused for a moment to look at Oscar. "There's nothing more to talk about. You said what you said, and I heard it loud and clear. You don't see a future with me, so what's the fucking point?"

Pausing once more in the midst of packing, looked directly at Oscar. "When we first started dating, I made it clear that I wanted to settle down one day. I was upfront about my expectations, and you knew what I wanted. Yet, here we are, years later, and you're still not ready for that commitment.

Oscar, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration, responded defensively. "I know I haven't been ready yet, but I told you I need more time. That doesn't mean I never want to marry you. It just means I'm not ready right now."

Y/n, now fully packing their suitcase, shot back with a hint of sarcasm. "Right, because waiting endlessly for you to make up your mind is so fun. You've had years, Oscar. How much more time do you need? A decade? A lifetime?"

Oscar, starting to get frustrated again, tried to defend himself. "You're acting like I'm doing this on purpose! I'm not stalling or avoiding the issue. I just need more time to figure things out. I have to be sure about such a big commitment!"

Y/n zipped up her suitcase, expression hard and uncompromising. "Spare me the excuses, Oscar. You've had ample time to reflect and consider. And here I am, still waiting for you to make a move. Your inability to make a decision speaks volumes, and I refuse to continue wasting my time, hoping for something you're not even ready to give."

Y/n, now walking out of the bedroom with suitcase in tow, was stopped in her tracks by Oscar's gentle yet firm on her free wrist. As she turned to look at him, he called out to her with a pleading tone. "Baby, wait. Don't go. Let's talk about this. Please."

Y/n looked him in the eye with a mixture of hurt and anger. "Don't call me 'baby'. You don't get to use endearments on me now. You lost that privilege when you made it clear that you don't see me as someone worth committing to."

Oscar, realizing his mistake in using the endearment, looked at Y/n with a remorse and desperation. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you that. I'm just trying to get you to stay and talk to me about this."

Y/n shook her head, her expression still firm and determined. "No, I'm done talking. I'm done waiting. You had your chance to discuss this, and you dismissed it. I don't want to hear any more excuses or apologies right now. I need space."

Oscar, growing increasingly worried, pleaded with Y/n once more. "Please, don't go. This is the same old argument we've had before, but we've always worked through it. Let's take a break, cool off, and come back to this later."

"Exactly!" Y/n's voice is laced with frustration and exhaustion. "We keep pushing this issue aside, hoping it'll resolve itself. But it never does!" she says, tears starting to fall in between sobs. "Instead, it just becomes a bigger problem each time we avoid it. We can't avoid this conversation forever, and it's tearing me apart."

Y/n, determined to leave despite Oscar’s efforts to hold her back, breaks free from his grip and walks towards the door.

Oscar, watching her walk away, calls out to her pleadingly. "Please, don’t go. We can work this out, can’t we? You can’t just leave without resolving this."

Y/n, standing at the door with suitcase in hand, responds with a mix of determination and pain. "You’re right. There won’t be anything to resolve if there’s nothing left between us. And right now, it feels like there’s nothing left to salvage."

Oscar, panicked and desperate, tries one last effort to make her stay. "No, don’t say that! We have years together, a life built together. You can’t throw it all away just like that."

Y/n, her voice tinged with hurt and bitterness, answers with a sharp response. "When you said you don’t feel free around me, it felt like a slap in the face. As if being with me is some kind of prison sentence to you. So maybe it’s better if you are free, without me in the picture."

Y/n opens the door, her steps resolute and determined. Without looking back, she walks out and slams the door shut behind her. Oscar, left alone in the apartment, stands frozen in place, the sound of the door slamming echoing in his ears.

February 12, 2027

Three years have passed since Y/n left, and she has found herself in a different place, both geographically and emotionally. She has moved from Monaco to France, and is now living in a cozy apartment with her roommate, Alexandra.

Y/n and Alexandra are folding laundry and chatting away in the living room, enjoying each other's company. Suddenly, Y/n's phone buzzes, signaling an incoming call. She glances at the screen to see that it's her cousin calling.

Y/n, spotting the caller ID "lily 💗", excuses herself from the conversation with Alexandra. She picks up the phone, her voice tinged with curiosity. "Hey, what's up?"

Lily, sounding excited on the other end of the line, wastes no time in telling her the news. "Hey, guess what? I'm getting married! And I'd really love it if you could come to the wedding. It wouldn't be the same without you here!"

A smile spreads across Y/n's face as she listens to her cousin's cheerful announcement. She feels a mix of joy and surprise. "Oh my goodness, that's wonderful news! I'm so happy for you. Of course, I'd love to be there for your wedding. It's going to be a beautiful occasion. Have you set a date yet?"

Her cousin, still beaming with happiness, replies warmly. "Yes, we have! We're getting married in two months, at a beautiful venue here in Monte Carlo. It's going to be a wonderful celebration. I can't wait for you to be there with me."

Y/n's cousin, continuing the conversation, extends a special invitation. "Oh, and by the way, I wanted to ask you something else. Would you do me the honor of being my maid of honor? It would mean the world to me if you were by my side on my special day."

She feels a wave of warmth and appreciation at her cousin's request. She quickly responds with enthusiasm. "Oh my goodness, of course I'll be your maid of honor! It would be my absolute honor to stand by your side on your wedding day. I'm so touched that you asked me."

Her cousin lets out a happy sigh, feeling relieved and delighted at Y/n's acceptance. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm so glad you said yes. I can already imagine us having so much fun during the preparations and on the big day. You're going to be the best maid of honor ever!"

She rejoins Alexandra in the living room, her expression a mix of joy and excitement. "Sorry, that was my cousin. She's getting married apparently? She asked me to be her maid of honor too!"

Alexandra, hearing the exciting news, lights up with delight. "Oh, that's fantastic! Congratulations to the both of you!" she says, clapping lightly. "Being a maid of honor is such a special role. When's the big day?"

Y/n's voice brims with anticipation as she responds. "In two months, it'll be in Monte Carlo."

Alexandra, curious to know more about Y/n's cousin and her fiancé, poses a question with a tone of intrigue. "That sounds wonderful! So who's the lucky groom?"

Y/n opens her mouth before slowly closing it. "You know, I just realized, I don't actually know..." she replies sheepishly.

The two girls sit in awkward silence for a few moments before bursting out laughing. Y/n can finally say that she feels happy. At least, way happier than she was with Oscar.

April 26, 2027 | Chapel

The long awaited wedding day, and the setting couldn't more picturesque. The venue is adorned with elegant decorations, and Y/n stands by chapel doors, ready to walk down the aisle alongside the best man and to see the groom for the very first time.

Y/n, in her satin green dress, is arm in arm with Lando, the best man (who she met a week ago). They make their way up to the altar, and as her eyes scan the surroundings, something catches her eye. She turns her gaze towards the altar, and there she sees the groom awaiting his bride.

As the groom turns around to face the aisle, Y/n's heart skips a beat. There, standing at the altar, is Oscar, her ex-boyfriend. Y/n feels a mix of shock and disbelief. Lily is getting married to Oscar.

Oscar, caught off guard by the sight of Y/n, manages to keep his composure despite the surprise. His eyes go wide with realization, but he quickly masks his emotions and turns his attention back to the altar.

Lando, feeling Y/n's grip on his arm tighten ever so slightly, turns his attention to her with concern. He senses something is amiss and leans in slightly to inquire in a low whisper. "Hey, is everything alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Y/n, struggling to find her words, manages to compose herself enough to respond to Lando's question. "I'm... I'm fine." she mutters, forcing a smile. "Don't worry about it. Let's just focus on the ceremony right now. I'll explain everything later if we have time."

Lando, sensing Y/n's unease, nods in understanding but keeps a watchful eye on her throughout the ceremony. He feels there's more to it than meets the eye, but he decides to respect her request to wait until later to explain.

The processional draws to a close as Lily walks down the aisle, looking stunning in her snowy white dress. Y/n, unable to help herself, steals a glance at Oscar, who stands at the altar, his eyes filled with awe as he gazes at the bride- his bride, in all her splendor. There's a mix of shock and a tinge of melancholy in Y/n's expression as she observes him.

Her thoughts race through her mind as she stands alongside the other bridesmaids. She watches Oscar at the altar, his eyes fixated on Lily, and a sudden pang of bittersweetness washes over her. In that moment, she can't help but wonder if this is what it would've been if she and Oscar had gotten married, if they would've worked it out. A mixture of nostalgia and melancholy fills her heart as she contemplates what could have been.

Her inner turmoil intensifies as she struggles to reconcile her current circumstances with the memory of the dreams and aspirations she once had with Oscar. The weight of the unspoken emotions between them hangs heavily in the air, and split second, Y/n finds herself caught in a whirlwind of "what if?" scenarios before she snaps back to reality, reminding herself of the reasons that led them down separate paths. The same reasons that led them to this day.

Lily reaches the altar, and Oscar assists her with her beautiful gown, his hands gently arranging the fabric. In the process, their eyes meet for a fraction of a second, and the intensity of that brief glance nearly brings tears to her eyes. The connection, though fleeting, stirs a mix of emotions within her, bringing back memories and longing she thought she had buried in the past.

Unable to bear the weight of Oscar's gaze any longer, Y/n averts her eyes, feigning the need to fuss with her own gown. She busies herself with adjusting her attire, using the action as a guise to avoid looking at Oscar, who stands just a few steps from her. She tries to mask the turmoil within her, hoping no one notices the storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface.

Oscar tears his gaze away from Y/n and redirects his focus to his bride. A genuine, radiant smile illuminates his face, and in that moment, Y/n realizes that she has never seen him smile quite like that before. The smile is wide, full of joy and contentment. Y/n can't help but feel a sharp pang in her heart.

The sight of Oscar's unabashed happiness with his bride strikes a chord deep within Y/n. It awakened a mix of sorrow, regret, and a hint of resignation. She understands that his smile, while beautiful, is no longer hers to witness. The reality of their broken relationship, and the different paths they've taken, is now undeniable, and the weight of that realization settles heavily on her heart.

The mixture of emotions in the air is palpable as Y/n stans beside the other bridesmaids, her eyes till fixated on Oscar and the bride. She can't help but feel a jumble of sadness, envy, and acceptance, witnessing the unfolding scene in front of her. The moment seems to stretch on, each second reminding her of what could have been.

The ceremony continues, and as the moment arrives for Oscar to kiss his bride, the air catches in Y/n's throat. Y/n, along with all the guests gathered, watches as the newly weds lock lips, sealing their union in a heartfelt kiss. Y/n's heart clenches as she longs to be the one standing with Oscar, to be the one he's kissing.

Their kiss seems to last an eternity, each second a poignant reminder of the love that Oscar now shares with someone else. Y/n's eyes are fixed on the couple, her heart wallowing in sorrow and acceptance. The realization that she is no longer a part of Oscar's future washes over her, and she finds herself in the same bittersweet feeling that she found all those years ago.

Y/n, although her heart is heavy, knows she has no choice but to join in the applause. She raises her hands and claps along with the guests. Her hands come together in a rhythmic applause, the sound blending with the collective joy and celebration around her. Inside, her heart is aching, but on the outside, she manages to maintain a semblance of composure, hiding the storm of emotions within her.

April 27, 2027 | Reception

Time swiftly moves forward to the reception. Lando, as the best man, steps up to the podium, ready to deliver his speech. The room falls silent, and all eyes turn to him, waiting to hear his words. Lando takes a deep breath before starting, his voice filled with a mix of humor, warmth, and genuine affection for the couple.

Lando begins his best man speech with a warm smile, his eyes flickering across the guests. "Good evening, everyone. I feel incredibly honored to be standing here as the best man for this beautiful couple. Today we gather to celebrate love, commitment, and the beginning of a new journey for our newlyweds, Lily and Oscar. I've known Oscar for a long time, and I can confidently say that I've never seen him as happy as he is today, all thanks to the incredible woman sitting beside him."

As Lando continues with his speech, Y/n sits in her chair, listening intently. The mention of Oscar being the happiest he's ever been makes her chest tighten, as though an invisible weight is pressing down on her heart. The reality that Oscar has found true happiness with someone else, the very thing Y/n had once hoped to provide for him, is a bitter pill to swallow.

Y/n, lost in her thoughts, zones out during the last part of Lando's speech. The words around her turn into a blur, and she becomes unaware of the speech's conclusion. Her mind is preoccupied with the barrage of emotions swirling inside her, and she finds herself in a state of partial detachment from the ongoing celebration.

Lando, sensing that Y/n was lost in thought, gently places his hand on her shoulder. This gesture snaps her back to reality, and she becomes aware of the room around her again. Seeing her jolt slightly, he gazes at her with a compassionate glance. "Hey, it's your turn to give a speech."

Her heart rate quickens as she realizes it's her turn to give the speech, and she takes a deep breath to steady herself. She glances around the room, the weight of the moment settling heavily on her shoulders.

Y/n slowly walks up to the podium, her steps deliberate and measured. As she stands in front of the microphone, she can feel the eyes of gathered guests fixed on her, waiting for her words.

She stands behind the podium, taking a moment to collect herself before speaking. With a mixture of joy, love, and disbelief, she begins her speech.

She starts, "Good evening, everyone. For those who may not know me, I’m Y/n, the bride’s cousin, but truly, we’ve always been like sisters. Standing here today, I feel a flood of emotions - joy, love, and perhaps just a hint of disbelief that this day has finally come."

Y/n continues, "You see, when we were children, Lily and I would often engage in 'wedding' games. We'd don makeshift wedding veils made from pillowcases and fiercely argue over who would get to be the bride. It was a serious matter for us back then, and more often than not, we’d ultimately settle on her being the bride. According to her, she just 'looked more like one.' Well, Lily, I have to admit, you were absolutely right—because here you are today, looking stunning, more beautiful and radiant than I could have ever imagined."

Her voice is a mixture of warmth and sentimentality as she continues her speech. "It’s fascinating how childhood dreams have a way of becoming reality, and yet, it’s even more astonishing to witness how you’ve grown into the remarkable woman standing before us now. Over the years, I’ve watched you navigate the ups and downs of life with such grace, and today, as you marry Oscar, my heart swells with happiness for you both."

In the midst of her speech, Y/n’s eyes inadvertently meet Oscar’s, and a wave of emotions courses through her. The weight of the moment, combined with her feelings for Oscar, causes tears to well up in her eyes, making it increasingly difficult to continue speaking.

She pauses, attempting to blink back the tears that threaten to spill. Clearing her throat lightly, she tries to push through the momentary emotional wave that has struck her. The pain in her heart is evident, but she forces a smile, determined to complete her speech with a semblance of composure.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n collects herself and presses on with her speech, "While I’m brimming with joy for you both, I must admit I feel a tinge of bittersweetness, for today marks the beginning of a new chapter in your life — a chapter where you start your own family. But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that no matter how life changes, no matter where you go, we’ll always be as close as we’ve been."

Y/n steals another quick glance in Oscar's direction before continuing. Her emotions are still close to the surface, but she plows on, speaking with a mixture of bittersweet happiness and nostalgia.

"You’re not just my cousin; you’re my sister, and this connection we share is something that will forever remain unchanged. So here’s to the both of you. May your love be as strong and lasting as our bond has been all these years. And Lily, if this day proves anything, it’s that you were always destined to be the bride." she says, wiping away her tears with a small handkerchief Lando handed her.

As Y/n completes her speech, her eyes inadvertently find their way back to Oscar. The gaze she gives him mirrors the one she had when they parted ways three years ago. The pain, the longing, and the unresolved emotions are all still there, making her next words more strained.

With her gaze still fixed on Oscar, Y/n struggles to keep her emotions in check as she continues her speech, her voice trembling slightly. Despite the ache in her heart, she forces a smile, her words now directed towards Oscar.

"And to Oscar, I hope you enjoy growing old with her as much as I enjoyed growing up with her." Each word feels like a dagger to her heart, but she finishes her speech, the pain in her eyes reflecting the depth of her unspoken feelings.

Y/n, fighting to maintain her composure, finally comes to the end of her speech. Her voice wavers slightly as she utters her final words. "A toast! To Lily and Oscar!"

Her words hang in the air, a bittersweet sentiment that lingers in the room. The guests raise their glasses in agreement, blissfully unaware of the turmoil within Y/n.

Lily, moved by Y/n's heartfelt speech, stands up and embraces her cousin in a tight hug. But while Lily basks in the moment, blissfully unaware of the pain her happiness is causing Y/n, the latter can only focus on Oscar, her eyes filling with tears as she gazes at him. The raw emotions bubbling beneath the surface seem to intensify, and it takes all her strength to hold back the floodgates.

April 27, 2027 | After the Reception

The reception has come to an end, and the hotel lobby is relatively quiet at this late hour. Lando, getting ready to head out, spots Y/n standing in the corner, holding her crumpled gown in one hand and her phone in the other. He approaches her with a concerned expression.

"Hey," Lando says softly, standing beside Y/n. His voice is gentle, tinged with concern as he looks at her. "Are you alright? You seem a bit... off?"

Y/n glances up at Lando, her expression weary. The emotional toll of the evening is evident on her face. She forces a small smile, trying to appear okay. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she replies, her voice slightly strained. "Just a bit tired, you know."

Lando can sense that Y/n isn't being completely honest, but he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he offers her two options. "You sure you're okay? You can always crash at my place if you want," he suggests. "Or, if you're up for it, we could go for a drive. Whatever you prefer."

Y/n ponders for a moment, weighing her options. Finally, she decides to take Lando up on his offer for a drive.

"A drive sounds good," she says, her voice slightly weary but also filled with a hint of relief. "Lead the way."

With a nod, Lando leads the way towards his car, parked outside the hotel. He unlocks the door, takes her gown, and gestures for her to get in. Once they're both settled in the car, Lando starts the engine and begins driving.

The silent drive envelops them, its quietness only interrupted by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of passing cars. Both Lando and Y/n seem weary, the evening's events taking their toll on them.

Lando glances over at Y/n periodically, noting the fatigue etched on her face.

He drives them to an empty beach, where only the signs of life are a few stray cats and dogs sleeping beneath a nearby bridge. The beach is mostly deserted, and the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore adds a soothing atmosphere to the surroundings.

He parks the car and shuts off the engine, the sudden silence feeling both peaceful and surreal at the same time.

Lando gets out of the car and opens the trunk. He rummages through it, pulling out two bottles of beer. He closes the trunk and walks over to where Y/n is standing, holding the bottles in one hand.

"Wanna share a cold one?" he asks, offering her one of the bottles.

As Lando hands Y/n a bottle, she glances at him with a puzzled expression on her face, her confusion evident. "You just happen to have cold beer in your trunk?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Lando laughs at her questions and explains, shrugging his shoulders. "Nah, I don't keep beers in my car!" he says, chuckling. "It was supposed to be for the wedding, in case we ran out. You know how weddings can be."

Y/n nods in agreement and requests a bottle opener. Lando pats his pockets, searching for one. After a moment, he pulls out a small, multi-purpose tool from his pocket that serves as a bottle opener.

"Can I?" he says, gesturing for her to hand him the beer.

Y/n thanks him and hands her bottle to him, waiting for to him to open his bottle. As he uses it to pop the lids off both bottles with a satisfying fizzing sound, she takes her bottle and watches the foam settle on the top of the liquid.

Lando closes the trunk and follows Y/n down to the sand. They walk down in silence, the soft sound of their footsteps blending with the gentle rhythmic crashing of the waves.

The cool night air wraps around them, offering a refreshing reprieve from the day’s festivities. The soft light of the stars and the moon casts a gentle glow over the beach, making the surrounding area appear almost magical.

As they reach a spot on the beach and sit down, Lando takes a sip of his beer and sets the bottle down in the sand. He glances over at Y/n, his expression curious. “Hey, can I ask you something?” he says.

Y/n looks up at Lando, her expression open. “Sure, what is it?” she responds, her curiosity piqued by his inquiry.

Lando takes another sip of his drink before continuing. “When we were standing there, right before you were supposed to give the speech, you started acting kinda strange. I’m just wondering… did something happen?”

He pauses for a moment, the memory of their walk down the aisle surfacing in his mind. His tone becomes concerned and inquisitive. “And when we were walking down the aisle, you seemed… I don’t know, kinda on edge too. Did something happen back there or…”

Y/n sighs heavily, knowing she can’t avoid the question any longer. She gazes out at the ocean, the weight of her emotions visible in her expression. “I guess you noticed that something was up after all,” she says, her voice tinged with a hint of regret. “It’s a long story, Lan.”

Lando looks at Y/n, giving her a reassuring smile. “You know what? We’ve got all the time in the world right now, it’s just you and me.” he says, his voice gentle and inviting. “And I’m all ears if you need to talk about whatever is bothering you.”

Y/n feels a mix of emotions, knowing that Lando is willing to listen to her and that she can finally open up about what’s been bothering her. She takes a deep breath, her voice slightly shaky as she begins to tell her story.

“Okay… So I guess I should start by telling you that Oscar is my ex-boyfriend.” She sighs, feeling the weight of her words settle over her.

As Y/n drops the revelation about Oscar being her ex, Lando’s response is somewhat unexpected— his beer goes up his nose, causing him to cough and splutter lightly. Y/n stifles a laugh, finding a brief moment of humor amidst the intensity of their conversation.

“Hey,” she giggles playfully, “you okay there?” Lando clears his throat, wiping away the remnants of his beer mishap.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he laughs, his eyes still watering slightly. “I just… did not expect that detail?”

They both laugh softly, and the moment of levity helps to alleviate some of the tension hanging in the air.

Y/n takes a deep breath, regaining her composure, and going on with her story. “Long story short, things didn’t end well between us… I guess seeing him again as the groom, all dressed up and looking ready to start a new chapter in his life, well, it just hit me pretty hard,” she confesses, the sadness and lingering pain evident in her voice.

Y/n takes a moment to gather her thoughts, summoning the courage to share the painful truth. “The main reason we ended things was because he wasn’t ready to settle down. He didn’t want what I want— commitment, a future together, you know? It hurt, but I had to respect his decision.” Her voice trails off, memories of their breakup flooding her mind, stinging her again.

The mention of Oscar’s reluctance to commit triggers a painful memory for Y/n, causing her eyes to cloud with a mix of sadness and longing. “And now, seeing stand there, so ready to marry someone else, with the biggest smile on his face… It’s like my hope of us being together has been shattered all over again.”

Her laughter is tinged with bitterness, the irony of the situation not lost on her. “To make matters worse, it just had to be my cousin, right? Like some sort of fucking soap opera. I mean, what are the odds of that?” Y/n muses, shaking her head slightly.

Seeing the sadness etched on Y/n’s face, Lando can’t help but feel empathy for her situation. He reaches out, gently placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch conveying a silent understanding.

As Lando reaches out and touches her shoulder with a comforting gesture, Y/n feels a wave of gratitude towards him. She looks at him and forces a small smile, appreciating his support.

“Thank you, Lan,” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… hard to see him so happy with someone else when I still have feelings for him- well, I thought I didn’t love him anymore, I thought I had moved on, but seeing him today… it just brought everything back.”

Hearing Y/n’s words, Lando clears his throat, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Y’know, Y/n, it’s completely understandable that you feel this way. Seeing an ex move on can be incredibly difficult, especially when you’re still clinging to those lingering feelings and hopes of what could have been.

He pauses, considering his words carefully. “Maybe it’s time for you to actually let go and move forward. Leave the past behind.”

In the midst of their conversation, a small tabby kitten suddenly appears and jumps into Y/n’s lap, surprising the both of them. The sudden appearance of the kitten seems to momentarily distract them from their heavy discussion.

“Whoa, where did you come from, little one?” Y/n exclaims with a surprised laugh, as she gently pets the kittens fur.

Lando chuckles and remarks, “Y’know, they say cats are surprisingly good at sensing emotions. It must have sensed your sadness, Y/n. They can absorb negative vibes like little fluffy energy absorbers.”

Y/n couldn’t help but smile at Lando’s explanation, the idea of the cat absorbing her sadness somehow comforting. “That makes sense, I guess. It’s kind of sweet, in a way,” she muses, continuing to pet the kitten which responds with a soft purr. “Maybe this kitty will absorb all of these painful emotions and turn them to into something positive.”

As if sensing the conversation, the kitten nuzzles against Y/n’s hand, it’s purring growing louder, sending gentle vibrations throughout her fingers. The warmth and innocence of the moment provide a brief respite from her emotional turmoil.

Y/n chuckles, but her laughter is tinged with bitterness. She looks down at the kitten in her lap. "I realized something earlier. I'm always be the bridesmaid, and never the bride. It’s like my destiny is to always be the supporting character in someone else’s love story, not the one who gets their own happy ending."

She sighs softly, a mixture of resignation and disappointment in her voice. “I never thought that I’d be that cliché— the forever bridesmaid, never finding true love. Yet here I am, witnessing it all unfold in front of me.”

Lando locks eyes with Y/n, his gaze sincere and filled with a hint of something more than just friendly concern. “Love has a mysterious way of hiding in the most unexpected places. Maybe… the person you’re looking for is right in front of you, and you just need to open your eyes to see it.”

His words hang in the air, leaving them both pondering the possibility of love closer than they think.

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