#I don't do “this” every time I'm stressed! I keep much more than you think.. it's rare for me to do something like that-

[mel-loly]

-“Don't take your anger out on others”

I instantly:

[mirohlayo]

LITTLE SPOON

( Lando is always the big spoon, so you decided to reverse the roles. )

warning : fluff and fluff and fluff

note : lando who says he never tried to be the little spoon in the chicken shop date video gave me this absolutely cute idea 🥹

word count : 1.3k

It was a pretty busy and stressful day for Lando. Free practice on the Australian circuit was very intense. Despite the fact that these tests went rather well, the fact remains that the curly-haired driver had only been waiting for one thing since this morning: to rest with his girlfriend in his arms.

This day exhausted Lando to the point where he couldn't think of anything other than throwing himself on you and cuddling you until you fell asleep, in each other's arms. The only thing he needs now is to see your pretty face and snuggle up to you.

So, while you were lying on the large double bed that reigned in your hotel room, you absentmindedly watched the television hanging on the wall opposite. You stayed almost all day in the paddock, and more particularly in the garage to support your boyfriend. But the fatigue was much more present and Lando encouraged you to rest at the hotel.

You waited patiently for your lover, because you too knew that he desired your presence just as much as you desired his. And in a fairly short space of time, you see your favorite driver suddenly appear in front of you, leaning against the door frame.

He can't help but smile at the sight of you. He missed seeing your pretty face, and your magnificent smile that you currently wear on your lips. You're just adorable and Lando only wants to cover your face with thousands of kisses.

“Hey baby” He approaches the bed, to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “How did the free practice sessions go?” You ask him curiously, but instead of receiving an answer he places another kiss on your cheek. "I don't want to talk about that. My beautiful girl is here just for me so I want to focus all my attention on her".

He smiles at you like a child, before changing into more comfortable clothes. He then comes back to you again, and without further delay he jumps into bed to take you in his arms. However, you intercept his gesture and step back, leaving him with his arms wide open, empty without the presence of your body.

He frowns, somewhat hurt by your gesture. You give him a comforting smile, before opening your arms too. “Now it’s your turn to be the little spoon.” You nod for him to come and snuggle against your body, but he continues to display a perplexed expression.

"No, I've always been the big spoon. I've never been the little spoon so why should I be now?" He tries to convince you to keep your usual roles, namely you in his arms while he comes to hold you tightly against his chest.

You widen your eyes, surprised. "What? You've never tried to be the little spoon before?" You ask quite surprised. He shakes his head no. "I've always played the role of the big spoon. I prefer it." It's your turn to frown now. "Well it's the perfect time to switch roles. I'm going to be the big spoon and you the little one, okay?"

Lando remains skeptical for a moment, preoccupied with the idea of being the little spoon. He loves having you safe and warm in his arms, being able to hold you a little tighter every minute against him, being able to admire your face as you relax in his embrace. If he becomes the little spoon, he won't be able to do that.

Finally, he shakes his head and leans back, crossing his arms. "No. If I was the little spoon I wouldn't be able to have you in my arms, and I don't like that." You have the impression of seeing him pout and this vision makes you smile stupidly. However, you roll your eyes, exhausted by his perhaps a little too dramatic reactions.

"Baby, if you don't try to be the little spoon you'll never know what it's like to be one. I assure you the feeling is so good, you should really try." You try to make your softest eyes at him to convince him to change his mind. “You could at least do that for your girlfriend right?” You look at him begging.

He stares at you with narrowed eyes, still somewhat skeptical. But your puppy dog face and your desire to hold him are too much for him. He can't resist his girl's desires, because after all, you're the priority and he can never say no to the person he loves most in the world.

He sighs before letting go. “Okay, I can try being the little spoon.” You jump with joy and excitement as he rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. You lay back down on the mattress and open your arms again, now forcing him to come into your embrace.

He smiles mischievously at you before finally collapsing into your arms, trying to snuggle as close to your body as he can. Your arms come around and hug him tightly against your body, while he nestles his head in the crook of your neck. His curls tickle the skin of your neck, while you let out some giggle.

After finally finding the most comfortable position, you feel your boyfriend relax in your arms, randomly placing a few kisses in the crook of your neck or on your shoulders. You play with his hair, wrapping a few curls around your finger or lightly pulling on it to make it bounce.

He lets out a small groan of pleasure, nestling a little closer against you, as you gently caress his back. You lower your head to admire him. He really seems like a helpless child, who just needs love and comfort. It's just adorable.

You giggle, which makes him raise his head to look into yours with his beautiful gaze. "What ?" He asks, completely lost. You hold back another laugh. "Nothing. You're just really adorable and cute, baby" He blushes violently at your words, as he nuzzles his head against your neck again to hide his pink cheeks. "C'mon, you don't need to hide. You know I like it when you blush"

He groans again before lifting his head to return his gaze to your face. You place a kiss on his cheek, while his eyes narrow, a sign that he is smiling. “So, do you prefer to be the little spoon or the big spoon ?” You finally ask. He pauses, taking time to think.

"Hmm... The big one. I like feeling you safe and warm in my arms. And what's more, I can admire the beauty of my baby" You raised your eyebrows slightly. “So you don’t like being the little spoon?” "That's not what I said" He said in defense, before diving his head back against your neck.

You end up falling asleep in each other's arms, Lando comfortably ensconced in your embrace as he smiles at the touch of your hand stroking his back and the other coming to play with his hair.

However, what you won't know is that he secretly admits that he loves being the little spoon. To feel your arms around him, to smell your sweet perfume, to feel your gentle caresses and your hands in his hair, to simply feel loved and safe in your arms. He'll never admit it but he loves this feeling more than anything in the world.

So after this day, this change of role, you will find him becoming the little spoon much more often than you thought. He will no longer be able to stop himself from coming to snuggle up against you, from nestling his head in the crook of your neck and leaving hundreds of kisses there, because after all there is no doubt about it : he secretly prefers be the little spoon.

[januaryembrs]

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

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

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

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

next chpt.

main masterlist.

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!!

[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!!

[winkwonkwankwenk]

Alastor Head-cannons (SFW & NSFW)

SFW

Listened to music a lot with his mother when he was a boy, and occasionally you'll catch him singing. He's still got the voice of an angel despite being a demon.

"Splendid!" "Old friend" His old dialect reminds you he grew up in the 20s- 1920s. You've tried teaching him modern slang but it just doesn't sound right coming from him. His eyebrows furrow when you laugh, "Was what I said funny? Do tell, I'd love a good laugh."

Still brushes his teeth and is intense when it comes to dental hygiene. Don't let the yellow fool you, it's just the new natural color. In general, he's very hygienic. He has a strict shower routine, skin care routine, don't even get him started on his hair routine. Condition, shampoo, rinse, condition again- the list goes on and on. You tried Spa Day with him once, it was more stressful than relaxing.

His hair is naturally curly but he straightens it for a "stronger" look. He thought if he kept his curls he'd be less intimidating, Charlie saw his hair wet once and wouldn't stop trying to pet him.

Will periodically check on Husk and when he can't will send Husk's favorite liquor. He's soulless, not heartless. He does tease Husk on occasion about his friendship with Angel, it's not every day he sees the cat so flustered.

Loves veal. You've walked in on him feasting on Elk and when you backed away he simply raised a brow. "Would you like to join me? There's more than enough to share." He didn't show it, but he was bummed when you politely declined.

Loner but loves company from those he's close with. When he's alone for too long he thinks a little too much on a past he can't erase. Times like this will make him force himself outside to stroll through hell. He's not an imp, he doesn't have to worry about being attacked. You on the other hand? Not so much. When you join him for strolls, he'll keep you beside him and away from the thrashed roads. "Stay close, I'd hate to see you hurt." You think he's oblivious to how buttery smooth his words are at times, little do you know he's been watching every change in your face from your flushed cheeks to your pursed lips. He smirks to himself, knowing he's caught you off guard.

Calls you annoying names when you're grumpy like "Sourpuss". When you glare at him he just flashes that annoying grin.

Owns a lot of other souls besides Husk's and will occasionally sneak up on them just to catch them off guard. He enjoys a good power trip, brings him back to the good ol' days. Kills just don't feel the same now, what a shame.

Not a fan of physical touch. Don't even touch his suit if you're a stranger. He's a bit more lenient with those he considers friends like Rosie and Charlie, and you- but you're a special case. Maybe it's because you asked before doing something as little as fix his bowtie. He didn't know his heart still had that kind of beat, he decided not to dwell on it. "I must be thinking too hard again, I should keep myself busy."

His ears and eyebrows express his actual emotions. He doesn't seem to notice it, but you've caught him writing with his ears down and brows in a U-shape. It's almost like he's pouting, but when you ask his face returns to that empty smile again. "Hm? Oh, yes I'm fine. Just sorting some script troubles for the next broadcast."

He's not used to accepting help, only giving it. When you cheerfully ask beg to help with scripting he can't find a proper way to say no, at least that's what he tells himself. You end up being more of a distraction and he has to push the broadcast back a few days. When you apologize he just smiles wider- you didn't think it could get any wider but it did. "Nothing to apologize for, my Dear. I enjoyed our time together."

Takes his deals seriously as most overlords do. You've witnessed brutal killings, the way his pupils morph when he's torturing a toy. He'll casually wave if he sees you watching. "Enjoy the show, Darling~"

Wakes up at the asscrack of dawn just to be awake. He also wakes everyone in the hotel up with his alarm- which is just a lord recording of himself singing some Jazz song he seems to adore. He won't apologize, but he'll have coffee prepared for everyone.

Doesn't like sweet coffee and is offended when he sips any, glaring at you like you've handed him a cup of shit. "Are you plotting? Why do you make this...Nevermind." He'll be grumpy the rest of the day, voice a low growl and smile a bit sinister.

Likes to Gamble, he's already in hell, what else is there to lose? He makes big bets, the biggest being a tooth from his precious smile. When you tried to warn him about the dealer helping the other player cheat he just winked at you. Before cards could even be shown, both were dead. "I've ruined another good suit" is all he says as if he hadn't just ripped the heads off of two demons.

He used to be dependent on his glasses when he was alive, he was uncomfortable without having them in hell which is why he has the monocle now. He doesn't need it, just makes him feel secure.

His radio voice lags sometimes and he'll simply refuse to talk until it's stable again. You're the only one allowed to taunt him about it without waking up surrounded by acid.

Lets you call him Al, and when Rosie asks him about it his smile closes into a strong squeeze of his lips. He hasn't escaped the teasing from her or anyone else in the Hotel who's noticed. If someone says anything while you're around, they better pray their deal comes with protection. "I suggest you keep your mouth closed." is the only warning given.

Likes strategy games so when you show him modern ones like battleship he's over the moon. He ends up with a board game collection thanks to you since you bring a new one over whenever you're invited to his broadcast station.

"Y/N, Darling, I have a bit of a favor to ask..." and you know you're about to go through hell- well, more of it. His favors always involve hunting someone attempting to break a deal, and most of the hunts are just you tagging along to watch him bloody his hands. At least he looks good in red.

He was quiet when he first met you, now that he's comfortable around you all he does is talk. Eventually he even picks up on your compliments and returns them and then- well, it just sort of happened.

Had no clue how to actually romance. He spent his life fulfilled from killing, not chasing love. After consulting Rosie and Charlie (mistake one, they both teased him shamelessly. It's not every day you see a flustered overlord). He tries pick-up lines but they always come out as jokes, and while your laugh is adorable he can't help but be annoyed. "Surely wooing a woman isn't this difficult, prehaps another method..."

Alastor's love language is gifts but not just materialistic ones. He knows what you like and he makes sure to get you it. You've opened your door to a bloody Alastor cheerfully holding a container of freshly-harvested organs, offering to cook them for you- his way of inviting you over for dinner. He's so excited you can't turn him down, and if you close your eyes you manage to convince yourself you're just eating chicken. He learns how to make your favorite dishes after seeing you forefeed yourself for his sake, and from then on makes them for you when you join him for dinner.

"Do not tell anyone about..." He doesn't know what to call the two of you, the traditional term felt a bit too intense. You know what he means, and although you don't understand it you agree. It's not that he's embarrassed, he knows you'll become a target if others find out too much. He also has a reputation to maintain. Unfortunately, the two of you are painfully obvious.

Adores holding you, especially when he's too busy to give you proper attention. You'll sit in his lap and watch him work, telling him when to take breaks. Sometimes the two of you will read together, his head on your shoulder and nodding when he wants you to turn the page.

Tried to figure out how to kiss you while smiling. You couldn't stop laughing so he gave up and stormed off to sulk. He was expecting you to just sneak up behind him but when you stood on your toes to kiss him, his smile faltered and his face flushed almost as red as his hair. "Y/N, get back here!"

NSFW (Most tame NSFW Head-cannon I've written because he's definetly slow to warm up)

Favorite petnames for you are Honey, Darling, and Sweetness. Sometimes he'll slip up and call you by a petname while around friends or in public. Unlike him, you can't mask your face with a smile and his falters when your friends stare.

He's clingy in public as if staying secret wasn't his idea. He keeps an arm around your waist, fingers intertwined with yours. If someone stares a little too long he'll strike a tentacle at them and they'll run off.

Speaking of the tentacles he seems to sprout, he likes to tease you with them. He'll lightly strike your legs when you're walking to get your attention just to turn away and do something else. He'll sneak up behind you and have a tentacle tilt your chin up so he can kiss you, then quickly leave. He's always in such a hurry, mostly to go peek into his chest and make sure his heart hasn't exploded.

His kisses get bolder as time passes, teeth grazing your lips hesitantly until you pull him closer. Soon he's comfortable enough to slip his tongue in, grip your hair, groan against your lips. These kisses turn into sloppy makeouts that leave your lips kiss swollen and slick between your legs. "We should get back to the group," he says it casually as he licks his lips.

You're needy, he knows, he can practically smell it- he just isn't sure what to do about it. This is something he definitely can't ask Rosie about, so he decides to observed you until he figures out. He didn't think you'd mind him being in your closet or under your bed, listening to you and your toys. You catch him once, face burning as you scramble to cover yourself. "Stay as you are, continue, please- I'm learning quite a bit."

You catch him attempting to file his nails down the next day but they seem to sprout back in seconds. He's irritated, you can tell by the antlers growing on his head. You tell him he could just use his tongue but he insists on doing it exactly how he saw you. You wither under him, hiding your face in a pillow. "You're quite tight, how am I supposed to fit anything when I can barely fit a finger, hm?" He teases, pecking your forehead. He does get curious and decides to have a small taste that leads to him eating you out, tongue buried inside you as he holds your hole open. It must feel good the way you're gripping his hair and antlers, trying to steady yourself as you rock against his face.

You didn't bring up going all the way, you wanted him to initiate it since you weren't sure what exactly his boundaries were. You expected him to bashfully confess his fantasies, instead you heard a knock on your door and then your body thudding against the mattress as he ravaged your mouth. He slams the door closed with a tentacle before ripping away clothes, eyes narrow and focused. His radio voice is gone, his raw desperation showing as he rams into you. "Dammit Darling, I tried to wait...but I've grown impatient. You don't mind, do you?" and when you shake your head no he knows he doesn't have to hold back. Wonderful.

He lets himself get pent up, refusing to let you touch him. At first you worry that you've done something wrong, but he pats your head and says "Y/N, I'll handle it myself." When you look at him with those eyes he can't hide his hunger, and he caves.

Rough? No, he's just passionate. He can't always say how he feels but he knows how to show it. Fingers intertwined with yours, tongues tangled as he stuffs you full. Part of why he lets himself get so pent up is because he loves how it feels releasing it all at once, the way you cry out and clench around him. He doesn't stop until he's fucked you silly, until his voice is static-less.

Rambles when he's close, from "Such a pretty thing, sucking me like this" to incoherent growls and grunts, he's vocal. When he's thrusting into you only his words are gentle, sweet praises like "Good, Good...you can take it~" echoing in your head as he holds it up by your hair.

He likes leaving bitemarks along your body but only where they can be seen. Good luck hiding the one on your wrist, and the one under your chin is exposed whenever you look up. Of course no one dares to mention it, but he gets a kick out of everyone knowing you're his- enemies and reputation be damned.

Like my writing? Check out my Ao3!! Reblogs appreciated!! I have an ongoing Alastor x Reader fic right now that updates weekly! This was actually a little warmup to get the writing going lol

Join my discord!! This is how I announce most story updates!

Lastly, fill my requests up!! Don't be shy 😋

[luveline]

hey baby! happy christmas eve <3 i was wondering if we could get more shy!reader x spence, i know the people love bombshell (and i love her too!) but shy reader has such a special place in my heart :)

ty for requesting!! ♡ fem

The universe puts Spencer Reid so close to you and so often as a punishment for something. You thought you were getting a great gig, selected for the BAU younger than most, surrounded by the top agents in the field, top agents willing to forgive your inexperience just as long as you don't impede the flow. 

Well, you're impeding things. Badly. 

“What are you doing?” Emily asks. “You're not listening to a word I'm saying. I need your help on this.”

Her tone is kinder than her unimpressed stare. “Right. Right, sorry, I'm distracted.” 

“You think?” She frowns. “What's with you?” 

Spencer crouches just outside of your eyeline by the door. The police precinct the BAU dominates today is small and underfunded, leaving Spencer to map his geographical profile on the floor. This is fine, but the precinct is in Texas, where the weather is sweltering, and the way to survive is to strip. He wears a simple blue-white button up without a tie, his sleeves bunched above his elbows, and his hair clings to the damp back of his neck. 

“Nothing. Sorry.” 

Emily hums unhappily. You can't blame her for not believing you. 

You throw yourself back into your work, bouncing theories and details off of each other with Spencer's ear skewed your way. It's harder to talk while he's listening. Worse when Morgan arrives with lunch and insists that Spencer sit beside you so he can hog the vent above. 

“Did they have your diet coke?” Spencer asks. 

You gesture to your cup clumsily. Spencer opens the bag on the table to pull out your polystyrene boxes. He knows without asking what food you've ordered and places it neatly in front of you, passing you a plastic knife and fork before he so much as glances at his own meal. He's sickeningly thoughtful. 

“You okay?” he asks. “You're being really quiet today. Quieter than usual.” 

“I'm fine.” 

“Yeah? You sure?” 

You nod with a tight smile. You're worried if he keeps looking at you that you might burst into flames. 

Spencer puts his hand on your arm and squeezes. The warmth of his palm pressed to the flank of your arm, the gentle pressure, the pat before he pulls back. Your brain melts in your skull and the rest of the team arrive just in time to watch. 

“You look like you've seen a ghost,” JJ says, dropping her jacket on the table. Hotch gives you a concerned squint. 

“I'm fine.” 

“She keeps saying she's fine,” Spencer says, hand on your shoulder now, the lightest of touches. 

“But you're not really fine,” Rossi says, sitting across from you with a knowing look. He always looks like he knows everything. "What's wrong, bella?"

“I'm fine, I'm–” Spencer's touch becomes more insistent on yout shoulder, heat rushes to your face and chest, and suddenly you've lost sight of what you're doing, where your hands are, and you've knocked your soda over in a rush of ice. 

Spencer grabs it before it can tip entirely. Emily throws napkins at the mess. Your hands come up to your face suddenly, embarrassed, but the team laugh and hum their sympathies. 

“I got it,” Emily says. 

“Maybe you should try drinking some of that,” Morgan teases. 

“I'm really sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today.” 

“Well, don't get stressed about it. Just take a minute,” Hotch says. “Is that mine?” 

Spencer closes in, hand flat on your shoulder, inching down to the small of your back. He stops somewhere on your spine, his every touch like a bruise. He can't not know how nerve wracking it is to be near him, but of course he doesn't. He wouldn't put you through this if he did. 

“Your food's gonna get cold,” he says. 

You rub your eyes and promptly put your hands in your lap. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I just had a hot flush, I think.” 

“Loverboy's not getting to you, is he? Just ignore him,” Morgan says. 

“I'd prefer if you didn't ignore me,” Spencer says quietly, charmingly. 

“Reid, eat.” Hotch meets your eyes. In a room of profilers, he's the best. He's the shark. He probably knew how Reid made you feel before you did, and he's the boss, so he redirects his attention. “Y/N, you're alright?” You nod. “Then let's eat and talk about what we know so far.” 

You give up half way through your meal when Spencer's knee rests against yours and you can physically feel your heart at the contiguity. 

“Are you sure you're okay?” he asks you softly. 

His deodorant smells like mint. “I promise, I'm fine. I think it's just too hot.” 

He makes you a fan with a menu from the takeout and fans you with it. It works at first, but his smile prolongs your agony and it eventually prompts an adverse effect. 

Hotch has to send Spencer out to canvas with Rossi to get you to function again. 

[flowerflowerflo]

౨ৎ ⋆｡• vogue beauty secrets 🐰 ๋࣭ ⭑

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ hair

don't wash your hair every day! i think everybody knows this but i know a couple people who still dont wash their hair only 2-3 times a week. obviously it depends on ur hair type but only wash your hair when it needs it!

don't wash your hair with scalding hot water either. its not only bad for your body and face but its also bad for your hair as it ruins the natural oils and damages cells etc

if you have frizzy or easily knotted hair i recommend keeping a comb on hand in the shower and using it to detangle before putting in any products

i've been emulsifying my shampoo for only a couple of weeks but my hair is sooo much fluffier afterwards so i definitely recommend that!!

now i'm torn on this one but apparently shampooing twice is better for your hair than doing it once? i tried it one time and it did not end well for my hair type but i know it works for a lot of people so if you wanna give it a try then go for it ♡

i squeeze excess water out of my hair before i put in my conditioner so i can completely get it in there without

also change your pillow case often! this is for your face too, as the oils will build up and thats not good for ur hair or face. i change it once a week but 2x a week is good too if you're able 💓

don't go to bed with wet hair. stop doing that. its super bad for your hair and keeping it pretty & fluffy & cute

airdrying is my holy grail, been doing it since i was little and dont regret a thing. its a billion times better than blow drying & makes ur hair so fluffy too ♡

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ body

DO NOT. HAVE. THE WATER. BOILING HOT. i am guilty of this and have been for years but it has such a bad impact and you shouldnt do it! cold showers are better but i prefer warm showers so theres a middle ground (& its always cold in england, so id freeze to death.)

using body lotion after the shower has been such a game changer for me its incredible. makes you smell nice, feel nice, look nice, and its so relaxing and i feel like a princess after i do it <3

exfoliating is really important if your aim is for soft skin 💓 i have been doing it for months and as somebody with super rough skin its SO soft now

partake in some form of exercise. i hated hated hated sports and exercise when i was younger but i did do dance up until i was eleven and have been doing pilates consistently for months now, and my mindset towards it has changed drastically over the years to finally a healthy one. it can be a difficult thing to get into but make it something you enjoy. it doesn't have to be sports. ill make a post on this soon but it can be pilates, kpop dances, running, hot girl walks, anything! and most importantly, do it for mental health and physical health, not losing weight.

make sure you're eating properly. remember that 2000 - 2500 calories a day is the MINIMUM. please do not stress over things like that. your body is so important & is there to be nourished and not neglected

change your bedsheets every week if you wanna smell good, this is so important bc sweat and odour will build up if u dont and thats icky and wont make u smell good & probably isnt the best for your skin either!

i also put two similar body washes on in the shower that i get SO many compliments on & its really helpful if one of your priorities is smelling good

dont just wash body wash straight off, let it sit for a few moments so the scent can actually sink into ur skin

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ face

skincare every morning & every night. if ur tired or just not feeling it today then simplify it, just make sure you never leave it out because its super important! no. skipping. no work = no reward.

on this note, try not to have a too complicated skincare routine, as this can backfire and make ur skin worse than before. your skin isnt meant for 18 different products and 200 chemicals every morning!

never wash your face with hot water... this is also a given but just in case... it strips your skin of its natural oils and does more harm than good

stop touching ur face... just for those who need a little reminder

make sure ur sleeping enough. seriously disney princess movies meant it when they talked ab beauty sleep; it seriously makes a difference, so please try make this a priority, especially if you already have dark circles like myself! (like girl did you see aurora's face? my girl's skin was so clear i could see my reflection)

pay attention to what makes ur face puffy or irritated or makes you get break outs. i keep a little break out log in my skincare page in my journal (little teaser for an upcoming post 🤭) and this has helped me go over what helps or hurts my skin! i recommend this especially if ur prone to acne or breakouts 💖

cold spoons in the morning to depuff your eyes; ive only been doing this a handful of times but im making it a habit seeing as it really helps! (as someone who can get vv puffy eyes 😭)

hydration is so important, for everything in this list, but most of all (from my experience) your face! i drink A Lot of water every day. probably a bit too much. but its so worth it, my skin has been absolutely amazing ever since i started actually making hydration a priority. (and this is coming from a girl who didnt touch a drop of water when she was younger & had to go hospital for dehydration several times.)

i'd recommend scrubbing ur lips too in the morning when you brush your teeth, i saw this on pinterest aaages ago bc i had super dry lips and i do it every morning & every night RELIGIOUSLY. its so so good and i definitely recommend

i have super dry lips in the morning so lip balm in the mornings w my skincare is absolutely essential for me

i also put perfume behind my ears & on my neck so its the first thing people smell when they hug me! im a very touchy person and i love hugs and i love showing love to people so this is essential for me but its optional, just makes you smell good ♡

[starry-nights-garden]

Ateez and their wordless "I love you"s

✧ Ateez all members x gn!reader ✧ genre: fluff, comfort ✧ warnings: none

Hongjoong:

makes time for you

of course, everyone saw it coming - he's living a busy life and no matter how tight his schedule gets, he'll make time to meet you or to at least talk to you on the phone in between

but that's not everything

he'll also take care of you (or try his best to)

we all know he's clumsy, but he still wants to do things for you, you know?

whether that's talking you through a rough period in your life or just offering an open ear and a shoulder for you to lean on

or if it's him actually trying to make something for you!!

without realizing he'll be picking up a new skill as he's making you some accessory he thinks you'll like or maybe he'll even be brave enough to try baking you a cake

even if he doesn't succeed, he knows he can always try again together with you, but even then he won't be able to focus on the task at hand because of how lost he gets in the image of you

Seonghwa:

takes care of you

in every way - but especially in an acts of service kinda way

will definitely nag you a bit if you're the type to be unorganized and chaotic, because he knows neat surroundings simply make you feel better than clutter everywhere!

reminds you to eat three meals a day, to get enough sleep, etcetc, and yes it gets annoying at times

but he also understands that maybe it's hard for you to stay organized, or maybe you're going through a stressful time in your life where you're too busy to prepare yourself proper meals every day

then he will simply do those tasks for you, and never ask for anything in return

your health and wellbeing are the most important things to him, so he will support you in upkeeping them in whatever way he can!

Yunho:

cheers for you, no matter what

we all know he's the one who does the most to keep a positive energy and to cheer the people around him up

and he'll do the same for you

no matter if you have an important exam coming up, and important interview, or if it's just another day - he'll always be there to have your back and to wish you good luck

you know that no matter how seemingly small or insignificant, you can always tell him about even the tiniest worries you have and he'll take you seriously, calming you down and motivating you at the same time

he's also very social, but another thing that will both make him feel loved and be a way to convey to you how comfortable he is with you is to just sit together in silence

each doing their own thing while still being together so you won't ever feel lonely is another way for him to silently tell you he loves you

Yeosang:

learns about you

and I mean not just a few obvious details

I'm talking everything - he picks up on even the smalles of your habits or preferences that even your close friends don't know about

he's very observant and even more so when he loves someone

gives you small gifts that really aren't a big deal for him, but it might just bring you to tears from how thoughtful they are

it takes him a while to warm up to people and to develop trust, so it will also take him a long time to come to properly love you

but in those moments where he realizes just how safe you make him feel, it's like his emotions overwhelm him

might manage to hold back just until after he asks you whether he can kiss you

but as soon as his arms are wrapped around you and his lips brush against yours, he'll sweep you off your feet from how many feelings he pours into just that one kiss

blushes a lot afterwards, and needs you to not let go of his hands to feel reassured that what he's doing is just right

San:

tells you synonyms of "I love you"

tells you that he appreciates you, that he's thankful to you, tells you you have a beautiful heart

of course he's also one who's big on physical affection, but in moments where he realizes once again just how much he loves you, he knows no words and no gesture in the world would be enough to convey his feelings to you

so he makes it a habit to tell you what he feels frequently

tells you you have a pretty smile when he catches you grinning by yourself, or that he admires how diligent you are when you're working on something late at night

it always comes as a surprise when he does this, but this makes it feel just that much more sincere

Mingi:

gives you a space to be sad

no matter how many good times you two have, nothing screams "I love you" quite as much to him as sitting together in silence and giving you a place to go through a hard time safely

will offer you advice or his perspective on things if you want him to, and he will certainly remind you to slow down a bit time and time again

he's actually very good at sensing when you're having a hard time, even when you do everything in your might to hide it

will be the anchor that grounds you at times like those

but even when times aren't as dire, he's like an open book when it comes to showing that he loves you

the way he looks at you alone gives it away, the way he plays with your fingers when he holds your hand or the way he melts against your touch with every single embrace you share

Wooyoung:

gets protective

he just can't help it okay?

he knows you're an adult and you don't need him to guard you 24/7, but even just not having his arm around you at all times feels off to him

he wants to be there for you at all times - the type to pick up his phone if you call him at 3 in the morning because you have trouble sleeping and you feel like it'd help you to hear his voice

might go a bit overboard at times, it does happen that his urge to protect you and to motivate you to become a better version of yourself ends in a fight

but even then he'll realize rather quickly that he went too far and ought to apologize

your nr 1 hype man, but at the end of the day you know you have a safe place to rest in his arms, and that he'll always accept you exactly as you are

Jongho:

listens

even if you've been complaining about the same thing for weeks, he won't get tired of lending you an open ear and he won't tell you off for it

he knows that sometimes you need to think about the same thing a hundred times until you find a solution for it, and if voicing your thoughts helps he'll be more than happy to listen

sits with you even through the most uncomfortable of feelings and will make sure you know he's not leaving your side even when things get difficult

but he'll also show you his playful side

him joking around with you just really shows how comfortable he is being around you, and you can be sure that your bickering will always end with bright smiles on your faces and sweet kisses as he realizes just how grateful he is to have you in his life

[merakiui]

feel free to delete if this is perhaps too raunchy of an ask!! but how do u think the twst guys masturbate? do they use their hands, fleshlights/onaholes? are they loud or quiet? do they rely on their imagination or sexual material? etc etc lolol

I'm sorry that this is a bit of a sleazy question, but it has been pestering me ^^;;

Nothing is ever too sleazy when it comes to smut. <3 this ask gave me so many thoughts,,,

✧ Riddle only ever masturbates when it's absolutely necessary (i.e. he needs to de-stress and relax or it's a poorly timed erection that won't go away and he's too impatient to wait it out). Sometimes his mind wanders when he's studying. He doesn't mean for it to, but he often thinks back on the day's events when he's settling down for the evening and suddenly you pop into his mind and his brain is working overtime...... orz he uses his hand and lotion/lube and gets off to lewd thoughts in his imagination. It gets the job done. I like to imagine he's eerily quiet because he fears someone might hear him. That, and he probably learned how to do everything quietly after living so many years under his mother's roof. >_< he's biting his lip or stuffing his tie in his mouth to muffle any sounds that may slip out.

✧ Trey does it when he feels like it. All he really needs is his hand and some lotion and he's good. Sometimes he doesn't even use lotion; it really depends. I like to think Trey watches hardcore porn even though he seems like he may be into soft, sweet vanilla things on the surface. Definitely enjoys food play porn. Cater probably gifted him an onahole, and Trey uses it and imagines it's you. Does the trick every time. :) he's quiet, save for the few occasional grunts and groans.

✧ Cater absolutely watches porn. He scrolls through his favorite swimsuit models' Magicam accounts while he's moving his hand up and down along his dick. <3 sometimes he browses the selection of sex toys on his favorite online erotic stores. Although I also think he has a folder full of pictures of you and he looks through those when he's masturbating. You could be fully clothed and yet he's imagining cumming all over that cute, smiling face... depending on the day and how horny he is, he can be either loud or quiet while he's masturbating.

✧ Ace,,,, I want to preface this by saying he absolutely has a cum sock. T_T and you know he'll never tell you which one it is, so never ask to borrow socks from him for whatever reason. Sure, he washes it, but do you really want to use a sock that has been wrapped around his dick more than once in the past? ;;;;; Ace definitely watches porn. He masturbates a lot. Typical horny guy who has sex on his mind often. He's not very loud, but then he's also not very quiet either. He tends to lose himself in the sensations.

✧ Deuce tries not to masturbate all the time, but he can't help it. It's the same situation as Ace: he's a horny guy who gets worked up over the smallest things. A breeze could probably get him hard. </3 you don't know this, but the majority of his hard-ons are the result of you. He thinks of you all the time... things you say and do make him feel so hot. He uses his hand. It's impossible to use any toys in a dorm with three other roommates, and his hand makes things easy and simple. He tries to be quiet (he really does), but he grunts and breathes heavy a lot. >_<

✧ Leona's too lazy to search for porn that'll get him off, so he just sits back, shuts his eyes, and fucks into his hand at the thought of you. Ideally, it'd be much better if you were here and he could sink himself into your tight heat. Leona's a mess when he's in rut. He always tells you to keep away if you know what's good for you because even he's not sure he'd be able to restrain himself if you came into his room smelling so sweet while he's in rut. He's not very loud. Soft groans, maybe a growl here and there, but for the most part he's quiet.

✧ Ruggie does it more often than one might think. It's hard work running errands for Leona. He's got to get some stress-relief in somehow! He doesn't use anything fancy. Just his hand and some porn will do. Most of the time, though, he thinks of you. It's a little embarrassing how hard and needy he gets when he's fantasizing about you. <3 lots of whimpering and soft groans...

✧ Jack does it when he feels like it or when it's absolutely necessary. I feel like Jack often represses his horny thoughts by exercising and working out, so he doesn't masturbate often. The usual hand and lotion combination. It's bad when he's in rut, though. No logical thoughts in his brain. Just the ever-present desire to fuck and mate and breed.

✧ Azul......... my beloved darling. <3 he bought an onahole at the suggestion of a certain blue-haired board game club member and it was over for him. orz I think Azul whines a lot. He's panting like he's in heat. He gets so wrapped up in his fantasies. I don't think he's an avid porn watcher, but then this is because he's picky and has very specific tastes (it's you. you're the specific tastes). In merform, he uses one of those full body onaholes and pretends it's you. One tentacle wrapped around the silicone waist and bouncing it on his hectocotylus. He's definitely broken more than one sex toy LOL. Accidentally filled one of his onaholes with eggs and was so frustrated that it wasn't you. :(

✧ Jade is a menace (part one) because he's a Shameless Freak who is too curious for his own good. Instead of a cum sock, he probably has a jar. He makes it a fun game to see how much he can fill within a certain amount of time lol. Jade's sex fantasies are CRAZY. Sometimes he gets off to porn; sometimes his thoughts are enough to have him cumming into a tissue or his hand (or the jar). He's definitely more quiet than he is loud. In merform, anything goes. Jade's gotten great practice fingering his slit, so he'll use this expertise on you when the two of you finally fuck.

✧ Floyd is a menace (part two) because he does it all. Uses spit, lube, lotion, blood????? It doesn't matter how clean or viable it is; he wants to try it. He's messy with it. Probably has a cum sock as well. Human sex toys are so fascinating to him, so he's willing to sample it all. Whatever catches his interest, really. Most days if he's feeling something quick he'll just use his hand and look at things on his phone. Definitely has vocal range when he's masturbating. Some days he's loud and other days he's quiet. Like the above, Floyd's also down to do anything and everything in merform. You should 100% eat him out when he's in merform. Quickest way to have the eel wrapped around you (literally and figuratively).

✧ Kalim does it whenever he feels like it! He's also curious and wants to try all manner of things. He used an onahole once and was hooked. It's just so great. <3 he's even named it after you. T_T I think Kalim's louder than most when he really gets into it, but other than that he can be quiet sometimes. Not always, though. He throws his head back and gasps a lot when he's on the verge of cumming, eyes squeezed shut as he succumbs.

✧ Jamil does it when he has time. </3 his schedule tends to get busy when he's looking after Kalim, balancing his own life, studying, club stuff....... I like to imagine Jamil gets horny so easily and quite often, but he's the repressed type of horny because he never has enough time for himself!!! When he does masturbate, it's usually just with his hand. He hardly makes any noise, save for the occasional groan or pleasured hum.

✧ Vil does it whenever he's in the mood. It's healthy for the mind and body to masturbate every now and then, so it's not like he's against a little self-care time. <3 he probably sets aside time for it on the days when he knows he'll need some stress relief. Sometimes these things can't be planned for, so a little spontaneity is okay. I feel like Vil doesn't get too complicated with it (that's saved for when he's with you hehe), so he probably just uses his hand. If he's using any sort of toys, he makes sure the material is safe and won't hurt him or his skin. He's also very picky when it comes to toys and other products like lube and lotion. Most days his hand is enough. I think he's the type to gasp. Maybe a low moan here and there. In any case, all of his sounds always sound so beautifully debauched.

✧ Rook......... it goes without saying he does it whenever he wants and can get off to anything and everything. orz especially candid pictures of you!!!! I think he's also a type who is willing to try all kinds of things. He prefers the sensuality of skin to skin contact, so he's more than fine with using just his hand. "As nature intended," he'll probably say. T_T Rook is a hunter who is always so eerily quiet and stealthy. I like to think it's much the same when he's masturbating. Mostly quiet, save for the occasional sound every now and then.

✧ Epel also falls into the category of Ace and Deuce. He's a little sex-brained sometimes. >_< but can you blame him? There was hardly anyone else in Harveston his age and now he's at NRC and you're there and he's just,,,, down horrendous. I feel like he tries so hard to sound "manly" or more mature, but the truth is that he whimpers and whines like he's in heat when he gets really into it. Mainly uses his hand, but I think he'd be curious and buy an onahole for himself.

✧ Idia.......... T_T this one is already self-explanatory, but he's using his hand, lube/lotion, an onahole based on his favorite anime girl, etc. He watches hentai and reads r18 doujinshi of his favorite series. He's probably one of the few twst characters who does it so frequently. Lots of pent-up horny. OTL if you're chatting with him online, he jerks off to your messages. He keeps clips of your voice from the times you VC in Magicord and he replays them while he's fucking the onahole like he intends to knock it up. ^^;;; I think he whines a lot, but then maybe he's good at being mostly quiet when he's masturbating. Either way, he's left breathless every time.

✧ Malleus didn't even know pornographic imagery and videos on cellphones existed, so his idea of porn is probably a tasteful nude painting. Imagine the Renaissance nudes, but Malleus's probably commissioned someone to paint you like that. He's so sexually awkward, so an exposed ankle or shoulder or even an outfit that looks so wonderful on you could get him worked up. ;;;;;; he probably uses his hand, but sometimes he ruts into his pillows/sheets. orz he groans a lot. He definitely visits you post-masturbation and greets you as if he wasn't just picturing you beneath him, writhing and sobbing in pleasure. Post-nut clarity for Malleus is just him realizing you'd be much better than his hand or bedsheets.

✧ Lilia uses and does it all. He loves experimenting. He's always curious and willing to try everything once. At this point the question is: what hasn't he done? Sometimes he's quiet and sometimes he's loud. Sometimes he watches hentai (as per his online friend's recommendations) and sometimes he uses his imagination. He's always finding ways to try new things. Although lately he's enjoyed using your mouth. <3

✧ Silver does it when he's feeling up for it. I imagine he doesn't get horny very often, but when he does......... 👀 he just uses his hand and nothing else, but I'm sure he's heard from others how good certain things are. Silver's so genuinely honest, so I feel like he'd want to know if there's any merit to an onahole versus an actual hole (your hole). Something to try in the future perhaps... I think he can be quiet, but then I also imagine he groans softly a lot!!!

✧ Sebek....... he tries not to, but the horny always catches up to him. He does it more often than you'd think, but he refuses to use anything other than his hand. He's stubborn! Definitely makes a lot of noise and he doesn't even realize it.

✧ Rollo didn't do it much (only when it was a necessity), but after meeting you that changes. He goes from going weeks without touching himself to doing it nearly every other day. You make him feel so insatiably horny. He usually just relies on his imagination, but sometimes I like to picture him reading erotic literature. >:D he definitely relies on his hand and lotion/lube, and he's also another one who is scarily quiet.

✧ Neige does it fairly often! He likes using his hand, but then he also likes using an onahole. He's so obsessed with you to the point where I think you'd be the only thing that can get him properly worked up. He cums to thoughts of you, to pictures of you, to the sound of your voice, to the smell of you, to your clothes... he's so cute,,, definitely the type to whine and be noisy if he's really feeling good.

✧ Che'nya also does it often! He's a curious cat, so he'll want to try all kinds of things. He does it all. His ability to turn invisible makes him great for watching you during private times or secretly groping you in a crowded place and you're completely unaware of his presence hehe. He's also got a vocal range, and it really depends. Sometimes he can be so quiet, and other times he's so loud you think he's in heat.

✧ Fellow....... tell me you can see the vision: room dimly lit by candlelight or something and Fellow's leaning back against the headboard of his bed and he's slowly running his hand along the length of his lubed up cock. Slow and steady, dragging it out, edging himself to thoughts of you! >:D I feel like this is one of his favorite ways to masturbate. He has time. <3 why rush? He's not as loud as you may think. When he's alone, he probably gasps and groans a lot. The type to squeeze his eyes shut and bow his head when he's on the verge of cumming.

[waldau]

softie — choi seungcheol | 890 words | fluff

#melonpan :c also, my need to include marriage in every other fic of mine needs to be studied.

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

"are you sure it wasn't as bad as i thought it was?"

you stop combing through seungcheol's hair with your fingers. "yes."

"really?"

"yes."

"i mean, i broke a plate, stepped on your mom's foot and—"

"i was there."

"—swore in front of your dad."

"i know, baby."

"promise it's okay?"

"seungcheol, if you ask me that question one more time, i'm going to eat up all of your melonpan."

seungcheol tilts his head up to look at you from where he's sitting on the floor between your legs. he tries to put on his best hurt face. "what happened to cheol? or love of my life? or even...pookie?"

you laugh. "you want me to call you pookie?"

"...no. but anything's better than my name."

"no," you say, resuming combing through his hair and detangling a particularly stubborn clump. "your name is lovely, even if you insist it isn't."

"it's just so...serious. it sounds like i'm going to get scolded."

"it's you. and i like it. but tonight didn't go bad at all, baby."

the thing is, seungcheol's never met anyone's parents before. at least, not since he became an idol. you had been telling him your parents should be more worried about hosting an idol at their place for dinner but seungcheol had been stressing about it for a couple of weeks, worrying about what to wear and what to gift and how to sit, till you held him by the shoulders and very sternly told him to be himself, and nothing more.

he's done just that tonight, and he's landed himself in this predicament now.

"you're just saying that to make me feel better."

you sigh and your hands stop working in his hair again. now seungcheol can't have that, so he turns around and clings to your leg.

"cheollie!" you say immediately, ruffling his hair. he lets go. "what, are you really that scared of what my parents think of you?"

"yes? they're your parents. and i met them for the first time yesterday. what if they tell me to stay away from their only child for the rest of my life because they didn't like my shirt yesterday?"

you fish out the television remote from behind the cushion and toss it into his lap. "show me a fancam of yours while i finish working on your hair. choose one you really like."

that doesn't sound good. why would you ignore what he said in favour of something else? unless—

"did they—"

"choi seungcheol."

that shuts him up. he scrolls through some videos on youtube and picks one he thinks looks good. you pull out a rubberband and gently tie his hair into a ponytail. seungcheol swears you have magic hands, because you've never once hurt him whenever you've volunteered to do his hair.

"done," you say, pushing him a bit forward so you can stand up.

seungcheol groans. "don't leave me alone."

"i'm just...going to get us some water?"

"i'm having a crisis here."

you giggle and sit back down, tugging at him till he climbs up and rests against your chest, both of you watching his videos of choice together. your grip on him tightens even though you don't say anything. seungcheol keeps quiet about it for exactly two and a half fancams before he twists to look at you.

you have a goofy smile on your face, and he feels kind of silly for wishing you were looking at the real life him, and not the one on the screen.

"what is it?"

"what?" you ask, looking down at him.

"you're smiling. at him."

you snort. "that's you."

"yeah, but i'm right here."

your eyes crinkle when you smile at him. seungcheol just feels like he's stepped into bright sunshine after a cold day.

"i was watching some edits of yours yesterday."

"oh. were they any good?"

"really good. but i wonder what your fans would think if they got to know you're the biggest softie in the world. none of that supposed alpha stuff here."

seungcheol pouts, but he can't keep it up for long. he's pretty much at his best when he's with you. you're the reason why he can physically feel his shoulders relax most days. you're also the reason he finds himself smiling a lot more.

"supposed?"

"well..."

seungcheol turns to bite your arm gently. you push his head away, not before pressing a kiss to it. "stop worrying so much, okay? you didn't mess up anything with my parents. do you have any idea of how much my mom liked you?"

"she...did?" 

"yeah. and my dad asked me when we're going to visit again."

seungcheol feels his worries dissipate. you don't look like you're saying it to placate him, but...

"are you..."

"...sure? cheol, my mother literally asked me when we're planning to get married. i think that's enough for surety, isn't it?"

seungcheol swears he can feel his heart beating fast enough to escape his chest. of course he'd love nothing more than marrying you one day, even if it's a long way down both of your futures.

"hm," is all he can say, settling back down against you. he doesn't mind you smiling at the version of him on the television. he's the one who's going to get to marry you, after all.

[vivwritesfics]

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Ten - Milo's Hot Momma

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.8K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Series Masterlist

It was a relief when Milo climbed back into his mother's lap before they began their descent. She sat in her own seat and allowed Milo to take his place in her lap as Olivia sat opposite them. She was a big girl; she didn't need her daddy.

"The tattoos," Y/N began as she held Milo. "I feel like you've got them to appear all terrifying and intimidating, but you're secretly a loser," she said to Daniel.

"A loser?" He asked, but he was unable to contain his smile.

Y/N laughed, her chest shaking slightly. "Don't worry, Danny. All the best people are."

"Are you a loser?" Daniel couldn't stop himself from asking. When Y/N nodded her head, he decided he didn't mind being a loser.

***

"Keep a hold of my hand, Munchkin," said Y/N as she and Milo entered the paddock.

Milo began skipping as he walked beside his mother. "Do you think we'll get to meet any of the drivers, Momma?" He asked as they walked forward.

Y/N truly didn't know. Daniel had gotten to the circuit much before they had and she had no idea where they were meant to be going. There must be somebody she could ask.

Everybody was far too busy. Every time she approached someone they hurried away, unaware that she and Milo were even there, asking for help.

Finally, she found a man in a navy blue shirt with RED BULL printed on the back of it. Red Bull, that was Daniels old team, she recognised. "Come on, Munchkin," she said and placed Milo on her hip.

She kept a tight hold of him as they walked towards the man with the short blonde hair and blue eyes. "Excuse me," Y/N said before the man had the chance to walk away. The man turned, wearing an ever so kind smile on his face. "Could you help me? We're trying to find the AlphaTauri garage and we're a little lost."

"Of course," the guy said and pointed them in the right direction. He began walking, falling into step beside Y/N as he took her towards where she needed to go. "Are you an AlphaTauri fan?" He asked, noticing the hat on Milo's head.

"I am!" Milo answered and wriggled out of his mother's grip. She put him down and grasped his hand.

Y/N straightened up his hat on his head. "We're friends with Daniel Ricciardo," she answered. "Do you work in Formula One?"

Max couldn't stop himself from laughing at that. "You're not a Formula One fan, are you?" He asked. When she shook her head signalling no, he held out his hand. "I'm Max, I drive for Red Bull," he said.

"Oh!" Y/N suddenly cried. "Your team won last time, didn't you? Congratulations!'

"Thanks," Max said, somewhat bashful. "You said you're friends with Daniel?"

"Our kids are friends from daycare," she answered.

They chatted idly as Max led them to them to the AlphaTauri garage. The conversation was easy, enjoyable, friendly. Milo was happy to talk to Max, tell him everything he had learnt about Formula One so far (most of which Olivia had taught him).

At the AlphaTauri garage, Max left them there. He waved them a goodbye and disappeared, making his way back to the Red Bull garage.

Even though they were now where they were supposed to be, Y/N was lost. "Where do you think we go now, Milo?" She asked, not quite expecting an answer.

But she did get an answer, just not from Milo. "MILO!" Came a loud, familiar voice. Suddenly Olivia was running towards them. She quickly threw her arms around Milo, knocking his hat off in the process.

Her father walked up behind her, greeting Y/N in a much calmer way than Olivia greeted Milo. He still wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, just not as aggressively as Olivia did Milo.

Pulling away, Daniel picked the hat up from the floor and placed it on Milo's head. "Hey Loser," Y/N couldn't stop herself from saying as he pulled the hat down.

"Hey Loser," he mimicked like a parrot. Olivia pulled away from Milo and returned to her fathers side, a proud smile on her face. "We were beginning to think you weren't going to make it," Daniel said as he placed his hands on her head, messing up his neat braids. "And Olivia wanted to introduce Milo to everybody."

That didn't surprise Y/N one bit. "Milo would love to be introduced to all of Livvy's uncles," she said.

Suddenly Olivia grabbed a hold of Milo's hand. She pulled him away, running back through the paddock. "Milo!" Y/N shouted, trying to reach for her son.

"Livvy!" Daniel shouted at the same time as he attempted to grab her, but she was already gone, already taking off down the paddock.

Y/N looked at Daniel. Daniel looked at Y/N. "Shit," they both said and took off, following their children down the paddock.

The first place Olivia wanted Milo to see was the Red Bull garage. "You need to meet my uncle Max, uncle Christian and my uncle Checo," she said as she pulled him around the RB20 with the number 1 on it.

Rather abruptly, Olivia was no longer holding Milo's hand. She was no longer on the ground, instead hoisted into somebodies arms. "Livvy!" The familiar man cried as he held Olivia on his hip.

"Uncle Maxy!" She screamed as she wrapped her arms around him.

At first Max didn't recognise the little boy Olivia was dragging around the paddock. He hadn't learnt his name, but he still recognised him from the AlphaTauri hat on his head. "Who's your friend?" He still asked her.

"This is Milo," she said. "He's my best friend from daycare."

Suddenly Y/N and Daniel were behind them. "Milo!" Y/N shouted, her voice scolding as she picked him up. "Don't you ever run away like that again! You scared me half to death!"

Daniel took Olivia from Max's hands. "What were you thinking, Badger? You know you can't just run off like that," he said, his voice a lot calmer than hers.

Blushing red, Olivia tucked her face in against Daniels chest. "Daddy you're embarrassing me in front of uncle Maxy," she muttered.

"If you're gonna take Milo around the paddock, you need to make sure you have me or his momma with you, okay?"

"Okay," she replied quietly and Daniel placed Olivia back on the ground.

He watched as she walked back to her Uncle Max, who took her and Milo's hands and walked them further into the garage. Daniel checked the watch on his wrist. "Listen, I've got to go and get ready for free practice. Think you can get the kids back to the garage in twenty minutes?" He asked.

"Definitely," Y/N said as she checked the time on her phone.

Daniel kissed her cheek before he took off. Goddamn, she was never going to wash that cheek again.

***

On Saturday it was a little easy to navigate the paddock. Y/N and Milo found themselves in the AlphaTauri garage with Daniel, Olivia, and Daniels teammate, Yuki.

Olivia and Milo were passionately defending McDonalds to Yuki. He was acting as babysitter while Daniel took Y/N into his drivers room. "I'm pretty sure I have an AlphaTauri shirt somewhere in here," he said as he went through the little wardrobe he had in his drivers room.

At last, he found one. "Aha," he said, wearing a grin as he pulled it from his wardrobe and passed it to her.

She took it gratefully. "Well, turn around then," she said, her smile somewhat daring. Daniel made a big show of shutting his eyes and turning around so that Y/N could get changed into his AlphaTauri shirt. "There," she said and Daniel turned around.

He placed his arm over her shoulders and walked her out of the drivers room, back to where the kids were still talking to Yuki. It was impressive enough that Yuki had managed to keep the swearing to a minimum, but Daniel supposed he'd had enough practice in front of Olivia after the last year of them being teammates.

"Now everybody knows who the hot single momma is supporting," he said as they joined his teammate.

This didn't go unnoticed by anybody in the AlphaTauri garage. Even those in Red Bull could see it, the fond looks they shared, the way Daniel was always standing close to her, the way he so clearly wanted to kiss her.

"You think I'm hot?" Y/N replied, but her tone was teasing.

Daniel spluttered like he had just been caught out. "Y-yeah, sure," he answered like he was unsure of himself. "You're Milo's hot momma."

"Well, if Olivia's hot papa thinking I'm hot, then it must be true," she said as she picked Milo up and placed him on her hip. They looked like quite a pair, with Milo in his AlphaTauri cap and Y/N in her shirt.

They watched the qualifying from the garage, with Olivia holding Y/N's hand and Milo sat in her lap. The qualifying felt incredibly long, but not boring. It was nerve wracking and, if she wasn't holding onto the kids, Y/N's nails would have been chewed down to nothing.

After Q1 was over, Y/N thought that was it. Daniel had finished in the top fifteen, top ten actually. He had made it through to Q2 but she didn't realise that, not until it was happening. "Livvy, what's going on?" She tried to ask, but Olivia had AlphaTauri ear defenders on and couldn't hear a thing.

Again, Daniel finished in the top ten. "Must be my lucky charms," he'd said down over the radio. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he meant, who he meant.

Daniel made it through Q3. He was doing better than his teammate, who had finished just outside of the top ten in Q2. He didn't finish as high as he wanted in Q3, not considering he wanted to go back to his glory days in Red Bull, but it was still good.

Starting P6 wasn't bad for an AlphaTauri, he decided as he climbed out of his car. He went through all of the usual procedures before making his way back to Olivia, Y/N and Milo.

A sweaty Daniel was... something else. Y/N couldn't tear her eyes away from him as he walked past them. She almost let out a low whistle, but she held back, remained her composure in front of the children.

If watching Formula One meant seeing a sweaty Daniel, she could live with that.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lillians-world-is-f1 @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @teamnovalak @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

[pupyuj]

Pervy G!P babysitter Yujin who can't stop imagining fucking reader who is married but her husband is always away so she sees that as her chance of "helping you out" with your problems. Biggest problem Yujin being extremely hot.

Also don't worry, your works always slay and I can't wait to read more of your work (Especially Yujin because I need her cock in me badly)

an older ask! 😳 n thanks a lot for ur kind words then anon &lt;;33

yujin's definitely the type to take that job bcs she wants to fuck a hot milf... and that milf being you! she does end up enjoying spending time with a kid but at the end of the day... she always comes into your unnecessarily huge mansion with a mission 😈 yujin's super polite and well-mannered, plays with your kids very well and even gets him some gifts sometimes! you grew fond of her after she went above and beyond for your kid and ever since then, you've seen her as more of a confidant than an... well, an employee 😭😭

it was definitely strange to call someone so young your friend, but that was what became of your relationship! especially after your partner got so busy that you started feeling lonely around the house 😞 yujin always made sure to keep you from getting bored though! from cooking meals for the kid with you, helping you with cleaning, playing with your kid with you.. yujin was good company! but ofc... her ulterior motives got the best of her one day! 🫣

making sure that the kid wasn't around when she makes a move... sees you looking all stressed from work without your partner to comfort you :((( yujinnie offering her help by putting her hands on your shoulders and giving you a well-earned massage! "your partner... they're a very hard-worker but i can't help but think that they're being a little unfair to you, (y/n)-ssi." yujin lowering herself so she's right up your ear, making the slightest moves to be softly pecking your head,, and you're so tired that you can't rlly think correctly... leaning in to her and making the mistake of moaning when she suddenly gropes your tits??? now yujin definitely doesn't have to think of stopping herself.

"y-yujin... wait, i'm... i can't be doing thi—"

"fuck no. stay here." she pulls your back against her, attacking your neck 😳 her hands were already inside your blouse, groping and touching everywhere she could :((( humping your ass while she pinches your nipple, forcing her tongue inside your mouth, and rubbing your clit all at once?? it was all too much for you and soon enough you've completely thrown away all your self-control,, letting yujin touch you as she pleases, reaching down her pants and squeezing her dick... and you're even the one who unbuckled her belt and unzipped her pants! you were so desperate to be filled that you didn't care that you were cheating on your spouse—all you wanted was yujin, and for yujin to fuck you good 😵‍💫

memkehjksd yujin pumping in and out of your cunt while you're sat on top of your desk,, your arms around her neck, holding on for dear life while she pounds your pussy like she's never fucked anyone before,, her grunts in your ear?? bites your shoulder, your neck... 🤤🤤 yujinnie making sure you're taking the full length of her thick cock with every thrust :(( reaching even some spots your partner did not know about.. fuck, yujin was way too good at this...

"lemme breed you, mommy... fill this fucking pussy full of my cum... can i? can i, please??" her hips stuttering the closer she gets to her climax :((( yujinnie gets super whiny too,, whimpering and muttering "mommy" against your skin,, one clench around her dick pushing her over the edge and making her spill her seed inside you 😵‍💫😵‍💫 she really does fill you up so fucking full too! "how was that...? i'm good, right, mommy?" yujinnie was asking with a shit-eating grin, knowing damn well she's just given you a good fuck after forever 🥴

you were just recovering from all of that when yujin had this genius idea to sit on your bed, wrap your panties around her cock, and jack off right in front of you,, "f-fuck..! mhm!" her coming in your panties,, and telling you to wear them bcs it inflates her fucking ego so much... and to both of your luck, your partner arrives home later that night and you had to stand and be all sweet in front of them while wearing some cum-soaked panties... yujinnie watching from the side with a smirk, winking at you when you happened to make eye contact with her while your spouse kissed you,,,

and ofc, each and every single one of her next visits became merely an excuse for the two of you to fuck like rabid animals,, but what can you say??? being bred full of yujin's cum everyday have become too much of a good thing to give up 😵‍💫

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

I don't kiss and tell

Little drabbles where creator!reader gets pregnant and the archons get into a witch hunt

Wc: ~600

Sumeru’s specialty tea is delicious, the lightest taste of anise and black tea with an array of spices that you couldn't even begin to pinpoint. The youngest archon besides you is talking your ear off about the origins and constitution of the tea, the exports it has and how it is different from the teas you tasted in Liyue. 

The only thing souring the atmosphere was the bickering and yelling voices from across the table

“Your dirty citizens are libertine enough to attempt to lie besides a god!” The electro archon points her finger at the anemo archon, her nose scrunched and her teeth bared

“Mine?! I doubt anyone would dare to! At most I imagine they wanted to be close friends!”

The tsaritsa rolls her eyes and mutters something along the lines of ‘very close friends it seems’

“You doubt? You don't sound too sure about that. I'm confident nobody from my nation would dare to make advances on them” zhongli blows on his cup and sips on it

“Didn't the trip get behind schedule around sumeru? I remember Neuvillette was stressed because the welcome had to be rearranged by a week” Furina grabs a piece of cake, playing with the cherry on top.

“ah?!” Nahida gasps as she is chatting with you. She taps her chin ”I can't remember a chance they had alone so I would say it's impossible”

“And why did the trip take an extra week? I was never truly sure about that” zhongli asks her 

“Oh, I was dead set on going to Aaru village and having a quick view to the pyramids” you chuckle a bit, seeing how nahida was upset at the accusations.

“Isn't it weird that Miss Furina is here too? Even if we named it archon meeting it's meant more as a head of state so I was expecting the great judge to be seated here” Raiden points that out

“E-eh?!” She gasps as she leans away from the purple piercing gaze “He was just unable to come so he asked me” 

“Isn't that convenient?”

The tsaritsa sighs and stops tapping her fingers on the wood table. Now looking at you she says “I'm sorry if it's too impolite but can't you cut us the chase and tell us who it was?”

You look away, a tiny strained laugh slipping through your teeth “I think I prefer his safety, thanks” 

“No, thank you”

“At the very least what nation is he from?” 

The next months there was special attention paid to particular carvings or newly acquired habits

“Isn't it curious how they are suddenly so in love with grape juice? Didn't your nation have a winemaker who preferred grape juice?” The tsaritsa asks, a stiff smile painted on her face.

“And didn't they also like a seafood soup that also happened to be one of your harbinger's specialties?” venti matches her energy, already fed up with the fourth accusation 

“Don't make me send someone to kick your ass again”

“I doubt a pile of ashes could put up much of a fight” 

“Our grace has been taking longer walks lately, buer, maybe they are trying to get closer to the dendro element” 

“they told me they wanted to feel the breeze better, that might be it, Beel”

“Why do I get dragged into every discussion?!” Venti yelps from the kitchen

“Doctor baizhu told me to keep an eye on them, the pregnancy seems to have made them crave rocks

“Isn't baizhu from Liyue, lord of Geo?” 

“And also ice cubes, tsaritsa. It reminds me, wasn't one of your harbingers also in Liyue at that time to close a deal with the Tianquan?”

“Why does everyone think is someone from my nation did it?!”

“Nation of freedom…”

“The biggest wine and sparkling wine importer…”

“You used your week to go bar hopping..”

“You are a weak and unimposing leader…”

“That part sounded more personal than anything!”

[semiweirdshipper]

Slashers as fathers with a child reader.

Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is less than ten years old (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile.

Summary: The slasher fathers feeling guilty after hurting their child's feelings. PART ONE.

Freddy Krueger

It felt like he had been a completely different person when he did it. Work had been stressing him out, parts of the house needed fixing, and he was a single parent. He wasn't getting enough rest. Eventually every little thing began to get to him.

Freddy hadn't been in his right mind when it happened. You loved making pictures for him, and one day you decided to nail some pictures on the wall by yourself. Not only had you nailed the pictures too low, but you had also accidentally made a large hole in the wall.

The incident had caused Freddy to explode. Not only did he yell at you for ruining the wall, but he ended up tearing one of your pictures in half. "I don't need this shit," He had shouted at you, "You think I feel like dealing with that? You ruined my wall, (y/n), and now I gotta fix it. I just- I can't... Ugh."

Freddy had avoided you for the remainder of the night- not because he was mad at you but because he was afraid he 'would' get mad at you again. It was a bad idea. He should have apologized for the way he acted. Because the next day when he woke up and went into his office, he noticed that every picture you had drawn him had been torn from the nails on the wall, shredded up and shoved in the trash.

Horror, heartache and regret immediately consumed his guilty conscience, and he rushed to find you. You were in your room playing with toys. It nearly destroyed him to see the way you flinched and scurried to hide behind a laundry basket.

"(y/n)," Freddy went to kneel in front of you, "Sweetie, what did you do? Why did you tear up daddy's pictures?"

"Because," You whimpered, keeping your teary face hidden, "You said you didn't need them. You... You tore it in half. I... I'm sorry, daddy. Hic... I-I-I'm sorry th-that I-I made a hole in the wall, an-and I'm sorry th-that you h-h-hate my pictures."

The amount of sadness, regret and complete and utter crushing guilt that fell upon Freddy was suffocating. Hearing your broken apology and seeing the way you were shaking caused him to be so disappointed with himself. He couldn't believe what he had done. Why did he do that? He would never do anything to cause you to feel this way, and he 'loved' your pictures.

And yet look what he caused. Not only did he hurt your feelings by being cruel, but he lost all of his near and dear pictures- even the ones you made when you were a toddler. They were all destroyed.

"I-I'll never color again," You swore in a loud whine.

"Oh no, sweetie, no," Freddy attempted to get closer to you, frowning heavily when you flinched at his touch, "Please don't do that. Listen- hey, look at me. I need you to look at me."

And when you did look at him, Freddy felt like punching himself in the face. You looked so scared, so sad and unbearably hurt. Oh gosh, what had he done? Why?

"Oh (y/n)..." Freddy sighed, shaking his head, "I'm so sorry. Yesterday I... I was just in such a bad mood an-and not because of you but because.... Look, (y/n), daddy didn't mean to act the way he did, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I yelled at you and I'm especially sorry that I did that to your picture. I regret it so much, you have no idea. Please... I'm sorry. I 'love' your pictures (y/n), please don't stop making them."

As Freddy eagerly waited for a brightened response from you, his heart sunk from his chest when you turned your back to him and quietly mumbled, "I wanna play with my toys please."

Excuses and more apologies sat on Freddy's tongue, but he denied saying them for he believed that you simply needed time to forgive him. "Ok sweetie," He got up to leave, "If you need anything, come get daddy, ok?"

"Ok, daddy."

While, over time, you did warm back up to your father, you never did say that you forgave him. And Freddy never got another picture. And he would never, ever stop regretting what he had done.

Michael Myers

Michael was overwhelmed by the frustration work caused. Due to lack of loyal employees, he was forced to work over-time and pull extra shifts. He was sore, tired and angry. It felt like he was the only person at work who ever did anything right.

And that anger built and built until it eventually brought out the worst in him and made him do something that he would regret for the rest of his life.

You loved (sport) and had been outside practicing with some of the neighbors. Michael had been inside attempting to relax when suddenly one of the living room windows shattered. He flinched and rushed to his feet, red clouding his vision when he saw a familiar ball on the floor.

On his way to the door, you ran inside breathless and gasping, "Ah! I'm sorry, daddy, it's my fault. I-I accidentally threw the ball too hard and-"

Michael, with his emotional bridge broken, raised his hand to cut you off. A seething scowl took place upon his face, and he began to lecture you out in sign language. "I don't wanna hear excuses. Why were you playing so close to the house? You should know better. Now look at what I have to fix. All I want is to relax and now I can't because of your stupid (sport). Why do you even play (sport)? You're not even good at it."

Even though his words were literally silent, the crushed look on your face explained that you knew exactly what he had said. Michael ignored your crestfallen face and quiet sobs and demanded that you help him clean up the glass before sending you to your room. Yes, your friends had watched the whole thing.

Michael's seething attitude didn't diminish until the next day after he got some good sleep. He soon realized that he felt bad for how he treated you yesterday and decided that he wanted to apologize. But when he went to your room, he was stricken to see all of your favorite sports gear sitting in a trashcan. (sport) merchandise and even pictures you drew were also in the trashcan.

Overcome with concern, Michael wandered to your bed where you were hiding underneath your blanket. When he tapped on you, you twitched but otherwise kept pretending to be asleep. So he tried again.

You caved and lowered the blanket. Michael didn't like the way you winced at him, your eyes squinted as if you were expecting the worst out of him. He quickly used sign language to ask, "What is going on? Why are you throwing all your (sport) stuff away?"

"I..." Your voice was hesitant and quiet as you gazed away, "I don't like (sport) anymore. I... I-I'm not good at it, an-and you h-hate me playing it, an-and I'm sorry that I broke the window... I'm sorry, daddy. I promise-huh... I-I-I'll never play (sport) again."

What? Michael's eyes nearly popped out, regret, guilt and fear clouding his soul. Oh no. What had he done? You didn't like (sport) anymore? And all because he had overreacted and told you that you weren't any good at it. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. It couldn't be like this. You couldn't stop doing what you loved all because he was stupid and having a bad day.

Sitting down on the edge of your bed, Michael quickly explained with sign language, "But you are good at (sport). Don't quit. I was having a bad day, I didn't mean to say that stuff. You don't have to quit. I'm sorry that I said that. Don't quit playing (sport), you love it."

Your lips wobbled and you turned your head away, your voice a broken whisper, "Ca-an I sleep some more before school. Please?"

Your lack of an answer both irritated Michael and broke his heart. He became angry at himself and regretful about what he had done. He wanted to talk to you more about it, but decided not to. Hopefully you would think about his apology and take all of your (sport) stuff out of the trash.

But, unfortunately for Michael, you never did get back into (sport), and he never got to stop feeling guilty about it.

Bo Sinclair + Uncle Vincent and Lester

Bo could admit that, on the surface, he had a very fragile temper. Ever since he had you he had tried his hardest to hide all the ugly parts of himself, especially his anger. Any time he began to lose his temper, he usually stomped off somewhere by himself to maybe punch something and take a moment to breathe.

So far he had done a fairly decent job.

Up until today that was.

It had been a long week. It was summer. Tourists were pouring in at random needing fast work done to their vehicles. The gas station and church needed extra attention. It was hot outside. And, once again, Bo had a very fragile temper.

It happened when he was elbow deep in truck externals. Ever since you could walk you had always been his little helper. Already at your age your dream was to be an engineer, but you still had a lot to learn. And the fact that you had a lot to learn is what caused Bo to snap.

With the impatience of the person waiting on their vehicle to be fixed, Bo also became impatient. You had been trying to help him, bringing him tools he needed.

Whenever you brought him one too many of the wrong tools, he ended up throwing a wrench and his hat to the ground. "What is your fuckin' problem?" He shouted at you, "Are ya stupid? If ya can't bring me what I need then get the fuck outta here."

You had flinched, tears immediately filling your eyes as you carefully backed up. Bo continued to give you a serious, livid glare that scared you, his words ringing in your head and shattering your heart. He watched you run away, his chest pounding with guilt he ignored as he finished his work.

Bo didn't see you for the remainder of the day, but he did check in with Vincent to make sure that you were alright. As night fell, he became more calm and relaxed, and soon he felt absolutely horrible for how he treated you. He sat on his bench rubbing his forehead in distress for almost an hour wishing he could take it all back.

He had shown you one of his worst sides. And it had hurt you. Now what was he supposed to do? He called you 'stupid'.

Unfortunately for Bo, he didn't get a chance to apologize that night for Vincent soon brought him a note explaining that Lester had taken you home with him for the weekend. Gosh darn it. He really wanted to apologize.

But his apology had to wait for- not one week or two weeks- but a whole month. That's how badly you were trying to avoid him. It was more than enough time for Bo to sit and think about his mistakes.

When Lester finally brought you home, Bo was grateful that you didn't appear to be angry or sad. You rushed to him and gave him a big, welcoming hug that soothed his core, "Daddy!"

"Hey, critter bug," Bo chuckled, ruffling your hair, "Missed you. Guess what? Some ol' couple brought in a beat up station wagon. Needs fixin'. Wanna help?"

"No thank ya," You said casually, leaning away from him, "I don't wanna be a engineer anymore."

Bo's world stopped rotating. "What?" He gave you a stabbed look, "But ya love doin' that stuff?"

"Not anymore," Your voice turned into a lightly disappointed mumble.

Bo's mouth went completely dry. He didn't know what to do or say. All of this time apart he thought that you would have gotten over his temper tantrum, but apparently you 'really' got over it. He had been the boulder that crushed your dreams. And it...

It almost made him wanna cry.

Bo swallowed, trying not to seem too beaten down, "But... Who's gonna be my helper?"

You smiled and pointed to the man standing beside the truck, "Uncle Lester will."

"Right..." Bo nodded, his chest aching with guilt, self-hatred, regret and sadness, "Right."

You never helped him with another car again.

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal liked to believe that he was the ultimate best at keeping his temper under control. He never got mad at you or expressed any negative emotions towards you. If you needed to be taught a lesson, then he would sit with you and have a firm, constructive conversation about how you needed to improve.

Your bond was strong and healthy and it made Hannibal proud. You even took after him by wanting to be a professional cook. And Hannibal was ecstatic to help you carry that dream into reality.

But one day all of his pride, arrogance and content came to an end.

You had woken up before him that morning and had snuck to the kitchen to make him breakfast. However, things went south and you accidentally ended up breaking one of his rarest, most treasured dishes- a dish that was literally one of it's only kind on the whole planet. And it upset him.

"I-I'm sorry, daddy," You had apologized desperately, "I-I just thought since you liked the plate so much you would also like eating off of it. I didn't mean to break it!"

Hannibal, his heart racing and his nerves burning with anger, had said almost too vastly, "And what lead you to believe that I would enjoy such horrible cooking on my most treasured dish? You knew these pieces were not meant to be eaten off of, yet you disrespected me anyway."

"Horrible cooking?" You murmured.

Because Hannibal was hurt, he couldn't resist the urge to make you hurt as well. "Yes. You are an awful cook. Your presence in this kitchen has always been a waste of time."

The way your eyes widened with hurt and how your hands immediately flew to your chest would be a sight that haunted Hannibal for the rest of his life. Slowly your eyes closed and you began to cry, your hands going to cover your face as you ran away, a sobbed "I'm sorry" echoing through the hall.

Instead of feeling satisfied that he hurt your feelings as intended, Hannibal immediately felt remorseful and guilty. Goodness. He knew that you were young and didn't mean to break his plate. He just... He just treasured the dish so much and now it was ruined forever. He let his emotions get to him, and he hurt you in the process. While it was your fault, he didn't blame you. You were innocent and you just wanted to make him happy.

After he cleaned up his broken dish, Hannibal searched for you and found you snuggled up on the couch. He sat in front of you and spoke calmly, "I'm sorry for getting angry at you. It wasn't my intention. You were just trying to make me breakfast and wound up making a mistake. It happens to all of us."

"I'm sorry..." You whimpered, obviously still upset.

"It is alright," Hannibal reached out and gently squeezed your shoulder. "I'll get started on breakfast."

"Can I help?" You asked hopefully.

Hannibal gave you a hesitant grimace, "I think it would be best if you skipped helping me in the kitchen for today."

Instantly your eyes puffed red and turned watery. Hannibal left you alone to exhale your emotions. He knew that you would be upset for a while, but he too was also upset. He just needed some time is all.

But apparently he was wrong yet again.

After that day, you never helped Hannibal in the kitchen again. For weeks after the incident, you didn't even eat the food that he cooked. It was like you banned yourself from the kitchen entirely. He had tried to coax you into helping him, but you always found excuses not to.

Soon Hannibal learned that he had destroyed your passion for cooking by making you believe that you were a terrible chef. And he regretted it so much that it was nearly unbearable. Hannibal couldn't handle mistakes he couldn't fix.

And no matter how hard he tried, he knew that he could never mend your feelings that he severed.

-

In part two I planned to age up the reader and have them secretly doing their passion behind their dad's back. And the slasher will find out and be like "what, I thought you gave up on that! Holy sh*t, I'm so happy". And the reader will be pleasantly surprised.

[dr3c0mix]

Yandere!Alpha!Jock x Student Council!AMAB!Reader who tries to keep their relationship a secret so that they can remain popular and get re-elected, but neglects the dangers of leaving a horny yandere with no attention for entire school days

Yandere! Jock x Student Council! AMAB! Reader

this might be a bit more fluffy than smut but idk man this boy needs some soft love rn istg-

CW: smut, blowjob, reader has a pepis

🏈 You learned the hard way that sometimes, helping others gets you more trouble than you bargained for. You remember that every time you hear Brandon's voice from across the hall as you were heading out of a student council meeting.

🏈 It was only supposed to be a few weeks of tutoring, just minor hours of helping out a fellow classmate, but god you were very wrong.

🏈 Rumors and gossip spread around the school about what kind of relationship you had with the star player in the football team, and no wonder considering how he acted when he was around you.

🏈 He started following you everywhere you went, always asking how you were doing, if you ate yet, how a meeting went, like how a concerned lover would be. You would always give him the cold shoulder, but he knew how you really felt. He's seen you out of school, you were a completely different person.

🏈 This seemingly cold and level-headed council president melts away the moment his hands wander around your body. Cold stares are replaced with half-lidded eyes begging to be loved. Your stern tone turns into little whimpers and coos for affection.

🏈 He loved knowing that you could be comfortable around him to shed the facade that you put up for the school. He loved how no one knew you like he did, he had special access to the real you.

🏈 And he was a bitch about it.

🏈 "Hey Hun! How was the meetin-"

🏈 "I told you not to call me that in public!" You whisper-yelled as you held a hand over his mouth.

🏈 He pulls your hand away and drapes an arm over you as you two walk to lunch, he knew you loved being in his arms. You anxiously look around in case people stared.

🏈 "I already told you Brandon, no one can know we're..you know.."

🏈 "Oh come on babe! You never even talk to me anymore! Am I really less important than head of student council?"

🏈 He gives you a pout which you return with a cold stare. He blinks and sighs, leaning a bit onto you, pulling you close to his side, he wished you leaned onto him too.

🏈 "At least come over so we can continue our movie marathons! I miss you so much baby~!"

🏈 His hand trailed down to your crotch, but you grab his wrist with a strong grip and turn to him with a look that could kill.

🏈 "Fine. But approach me like this again in school and I'm ignoring you for a week."

🏈 "Y-yeah ok sure haha yeah! Love you!" He stutters happily before giving you a quick peck to the forehead before running off.

🏈 "I said no!- goddamnit..."

🏈 Brandon waited patiently in his living room for you to arrive. You texted him that there was an emergency meeting you had to attend and he was happy to wait. He ate a few of the snacks he bought for you two though, he hopes you don't mind.

🏈 Finally, his doorbell rang and there you were, still in your uniform and looking around nervously. You looked tired with the dark circles under your eyes.

🏈 "Hey babes! You good? You know, I don't think anyone would be crazy enough to follow you ho-"

🏈 "Just shut up and kiss me please!" You said with a red face, your hands gripping the strap of your bag. It looked like you were about to cry.

🏈 His joking tone immediately drops as he sees you stressed out. He pulls you inside and closes the door, guiding you to his couch before pulling you close to his chest.

🏈 "Hey, hey baby what's wrong? Did something happen during the meeting?"

🏈 You grip tightly to his shirt, staining it with your tears as you press your face against him. "N-no, it was fine it's just.." You wipe a tear away from your eye as he looks at you with worried eyes.

🏈 "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner..I-I really missed you..that's all.."

🏈 Oh my god

🏈 He's dead, you killed him he's dead oh my go-

🏈 His face goes red as you say that before a goofy smile appears on his face. He laughs and hugs you tight, cradling you in his strong arms as your sobs turn into small sniffles.

🏈 "It's alright honey, I don't mind, I know you're really stressed with all your important council stuff or whatever, I shouldn't have teased you like that." he says softly, running his hands through your hair.

🏈 "It's alright, I just get mad over not being able to kiss you back." You joke. He laughs as well, cupping your face in his hands and peppering your face full of kisses.

🏈 "Well, no one's here to stop you now is there?" He whispers into your ear, his hands going down from your waist to your thighs.

🏈 You yelp as he carries you two his room, the two of you giggling as you kiss passionately. He enters his room and closes the door behind him before falling onto his bed with you in his arms.

🏈 He makes out with you, caressing your face and body while you rut yourself against his growing erection under him.

🏈 He pulls away and quickly takes off his shirt and pants, revealing his abs in the light of his desk lamp. You get up to kiss him again, removing your clothes and tossing it in the pile along with his.

🏈 He lays you down and kisses a trail down to your neck, licking and biting you like he did countless times. His hand goes down to your underwear and he starts stimulating your cock. You moan as he slides your underwear off and pumps your cock, rubbing his own against your thighs as you thrust into his hand.

🏈 You moan his name as his kisses trail further down to your member before he starts licking your throbbing cock.

🏈 You whimper and thrust into his mouth.

🏈 You feel the vibrations of him chuckling to himself before he works his tongue around your shaft, he revels in your taste while his hands keep your legs open for him.

🏈 You could almost see stars as you near your climax from him blowing you before he suddenly pulls himself off of you.

🏈 You beg for him to let you cum, but he smirks at you, having other plans for you.

🏈 He gives you a kiss on your dripping tip before getting up and taking off his boxers, his hard dick springing up, dripping with precum

🏈 He teases your hole before sliding his cock inside of you, a loud moan erupts out of your mouth as he begins to thrust into you gently, kissing your neck and whispering affirmations to your ear.

🏈 Suddenly he gets faster, pushing his member deeper and harder into you.

🏈 As he's about to cum, he pulls your head close to his chest as he relishes in your pleas and moans for him to fuck you harder.

🏈 He spills his hot cum inside of you and you grip onto his now stained sheets. You catch your breath as his thrusts slow down and turn gentle once again.

🏈 He looks at your tear-filled eyes and laughs sweetly, kissing your tears away and pulling his blanket over the two of you.

🏈 "You did so well, Hun, god I love you so much.."

🏈 He cuddles you as you inhale his scent.

🏈 After you both calm down and clean yourselves up, he takes out his laptop and you two watch movies together in each other's arms. Brandon relentlessly kisses and whispers sweet things to you as you lean on him as you watch.

🏈 The next day was just the same as yesterday, all his attempts at getting your attention leave him with the familiar coldness you displayed last time.

🏈 But of course he knows better.

🏈 He won't ever forget the feeling of you begging for him last night.

🏈 And it won't be the last time he'd feel it.

🏈 Let's hope his smug smile and your slight limp won't give your night's escapades away...

[1-ker0sene-1]

i’m the era of disabled!reader, would you write something for reader who has epilepsy? 🥺 can’t find any fics in my chosen fandom with epileptic reader (or oc) and it makes me sad 🥺

{I hope you don't mind me pairing with Simon on this one ♥️ I hope you enjoy! And please if I get anything wrong lemme know! I'm more than willing to come back and edit!}

CW: improper seizure safety (not by you or Simon), epilepsy seizure description

In full honesty, Simon didn't know if he could do it in the beginning of your relationship. He didn't think he could handle your seizures.. Of course now- having been properly educated about it. He would absolutely scold himself for thinking that, you just need a little bit of help sometimes. You aren't a damn charity case and he hates when people treat you like it. You deserve to be comfortable and safe, not pitied and prodded at. Not only is he your partner and best friend, Simon has become your biggest advocate. Of support for your condition, but also your independence.

One of the first things you both sat down and talked about when getting serious, was seizure safety. Simon needed to know how to help, at least as much as he possibly could without hurting you. He also learned throughout this, that not all seizures are the same. Sometimes you're just.. Absent, with a flutter of your eyes or a quiet mumble as your gaze flickers to nowhere. You just seem lost for a couple minutes. Other times it's the seizures everyone thinks of, where you stiffen, twitch and seize, sometimes even falling to the floor. How can he help? He's a little stressed when learning that there's not much he can do but carefully maneuver you into a recovery position, put something under your head, and just be there for you.

Simon won't ever forget your scariest seizure, you two were just shopping. Simple. He left your side for forty-eight seconds. Exactly forty-eight, he remembers. He just went to grab something you forgot in a different aisle. Picking up a box of chicken stock for dinner, he hears the slam of your body hitting the floor. He remembers the feeling of his stomach twisting into knots, dropping the container and making a run back to your aisle when he hears someone call out.

It's not you calling, you're far into the seizing, a citizen found you before Simon did. Now it's not the bastards fault, this stranger didn't know how to help you, so in the panic the man was holding your shoulders down trying to still you. Simons hackles raise, words ripped from the masked mans throat instantly.

"Off her- NOW."

Simon didn't think, he just moved, his big meaty hand grabbed the man by the back of the neck and threw him away from you. He's honestly been nicer to enemy soldiers. He didn't even spare the stranger another glance, falling hard to his knees next to you.

" 'm right here baby.. Right here.."

He rips the balaclava off his head, definitely taking a tuff of hair from his scalp. Not that he would notice right now. Simon carefully lifted your head just to slip it under, the softer fabric better than the hard floor. Stroking your hair away from your face, he doesn't hold you down- but his hands are close to you, resting featherlight on your cheek.

"You're safe doll.. I'm right here.. it'll pass."

He murmurs to you, unsure if you're hearing, but either way he keeps talking you through. Now, his arms gently hook under your leg, being as gentle as he can- his hands position you to your recovery position and on your side. Fishing out his phone quickly, he's already got the timer going. Less than five minutes. Please be less than five minutes.

"I have you sweetheart.."

Simon is right by you, watching your every movement closely. He's shoved away any items, just you and him on the floor.

"Should we call an ambulance?"

A stranger asks, Simon shakes his head. Never taking his eyes off you. You just had to go through it. If it's not a long one you should recover alright.

"I have her. Just stay back and move on-"

He snaps, he's stressed, he knows they're just concerned but he doesn't want anyone fucking with you right now. Simons eyes light up as the seizing calms, under two minutes, you're coming back to him. He finally lets out the massive breath he's been holding in. His thumb caresses your cheek.

"You're alright.. there you are.. you're okay."

Simon curls himself closer to you, stroking your cheek as your eyes slowly start adjusting back. You're foggy, confused, he's holding you a little closer and whispering softly.

"it's Simon, love.. Your Simons right here. You're right here.. we're in the store baby."

Now that you were coming back from it, Simon slips himself behind you as he moves you to lay against his chest. It's a while before you're able to be moved, waiting until you're fully alert again, he's taking it slow carrying you back to the car and getting you home. The rest of the week is spent easing you through the recovery. Low lights, he knows your head is aching. Lots. Absolutely lots of sweet talking. His strong girl.. he calls you. Making sure you take your meds on time and get plenty of rest.

"I'm sorry Si.. I didn't mean to scare you.."

You mumble, in bed together. Simon is sat up against the headboard, holding you close on his lap. His hand strokes locks of your hair, shaking his head sternly.

"Don't be apologizin' for anything. Didn't do a damn thing wrong-"

His hand slips to hold your chin, making you lock eyes with him.

"Hear me? Nothin'. I got you.. I'll always have my girl."

[pacifymebby]

What would each peaky boy be like with a wife who owns a bakery, one who pops round to meetings with fresh cakes and treats and stuff

This is a really cute request and really feeds my dream of having a bakery one day

Tommy

🌿 your bakery is quite small and easy to miss but once Tommy knows it's there tucked down a side street, pretty much just a hatch in the wall, he never goes a day without visiting

🌿 Always, no matter how busy he is, will take the time to stop by even if only for a second or two to say hello and pick up something to eat. You think he must really love your baking and he does think your breads the best he's ever had however, that's not the reason he stops by every day.

🌿 You'd joke about how he's going to eat you out of heart and home if he carries on like this and he'd very simply say, "Marry me love, then I won't have to will I..." Of course he's only teasing but the blush it paints on your cheeks is priceless and well, he does often wonder what it would be like to marry you.. no harm in putting the idea in your head.

🌿 He says the same thing every time you tease him for stopping by, which you do at least three times a week. It isn't that you're ungrateful for the business it's that you don't understand how a man as busy as Tommy Shelby has time to visit your little bakery every day and you don't understand why he'd want to.

🌿 this little routine, you teasing him, him making that joke, you blushing and going shy, carries on for months and months, it drags on so long that all your friends are certain he's not really joking, that perhaps Birmingham's most infamous has taken a liking to more than just your bread.

🌿 One day when he says it you smile, "if you keep saying that Mr Shelby one day I might just take you seriously..." And he pauses, mouth caught in a half smile, hands in his pockets as causal as you like he looks you up and down to work out whether you're teasing him. "And what would you say if you did?"

🌿 When you're married he'd help you set up a bigger bakery, hires you staff to help you run it, but you always keep your little shop too because that hatch in the wall holds a special place in both your hearts.

🌿 Whenever you think up a new recipe or you're experimenting with new flavours Tommy makes sure to be interested in what you're doing, listening to you when you tell him about your troubles "Thing is I don't know if it's salt I need, to bring out the sweetness, or if I'm just not using enough sugar and then there's the trouble with the Cherry jam it's too... Too..." "Jammy?" He'd tease, "wait no, too cherry flavoured eh, that it love?"

🌿 will be the first to try anything new recipe you've baked and will always give you an honest answer, unless somethings truly awful, then he won't tell you quite how bad it is because he doesn't want to break your heart.

🌿 He will try anything and everything you put in front of him but he has to admit his favourites are the more savoury treats you bake, anything with cheese is an instant hit with Tommy and sometimes, when he's had one of those weeks where he's stressed out, hardly eating at all, living off coffee whiskey and cigarettes, one of your cheese buns is the only thing that can tempt him to take his spectacles off for a moment, come out of his head and back down to earth, back to you.

🌿 Whenever there's a family meeting you always want to use it to get opinions on your baking so any new recipes are prepared specially for the family and you get in a real huff if anyone refuses to try your food... And Tommy always warns them in advance, threatening his brothers to "be fuckin nice yeah, try the cakes, be fuckin nice eh?"

🌿 Sometimes he brings Charlie into the bakery to see you and when you can tell that Tommy's particularly stressed you offer to take care of the young boy. He enjoys baking with you, making a mess with all the flour and sugar. He's your number one taste tester and every time he's in you get him to pick his favourite so that you can advertise whichever items he recommends as "recommended by little Charlie Shelby"

🌿 It sort of turns you into a bit of s matriarch within the family. Whenever anyone's having a party, whenever there's a birthday to prepare for, you're always kept busy baking cakes and sweet treats for the whole family. And when Charlie tells his cousins about the fun he has at the bakery they all want a turn decorating cakes and iced buns with you...

🌿 Tommy definitely falls in love with you a little more every time he drops into your little bakery in the late afternoon to pick his son up, to come face to face with your flour dusted features and your bright smile, watching you suck a little icing from your fingertip to test the sweetness.

🌿 He will almost always catch your hip in his hand, look down at you with longing in his eyes and murmur something sweet like "give us a try of that eh love..." sucking the icing straight from your pinky.

Alfie

🐻 Alfie has been coming to your bakery for a very long time, he remembers when your mother used to run things, remembers her Challah recipe by heart.

🐻 He would often turn up early in the morning before you were open, let himself in anyway and lean, white sleeves pushed up to the elbows against the counter waiting for you to turn up. "Thought you might fancy a little company this mornin miss y/l/n..." The first time he shows you're shocked and you can't hide it. You know he's infamous, a violent criminal who promises nothing but trouble... but you also know he's the baker of Camden town and that your mother was always quite fond of him...

🐻 So you can't turn him down. Not that anyone in their right mind would turn Alfie Solomons down...

🐻 You spend lots of time baking together in that kitchen, it's Alfie's favourite place to be, holed up cosy amid the yeasty smell of baking bread and the sweet scent of fresh pastries. He enjoys your company, enjoys getting close to you, using excuses such as "y'see ziskeit your problem yeahs, that you ain't leanin into it enough, you've gotta kneed with your whole body right, like this..." standing behind you, arms around your waist, kneeding the dough for you with you trapped between him and the counter watching him work.

🐻 You also have lots of little tiffs in the kitchen, him winding you up by putting things away in the wrong places or reorganising cupboards and shelves so that you don't know where any of your belongings are. Him getting tetchy with you when you insist you know a better recipe for something than he does.

🐻 However despite your tiffs Alfie never lets you talk yourself down... Whenever you have a new idea he's always quick to tell you you're a genius. Always calling you the cleverest girl in Camden town, always dramatically complimenting you. Even if something goes wrong, even if a cake isn't perfect or the bread you've baked doesn't quite rise properly he will hush any of your complaints with one finger to your lips, that contemplative frown on his brow

🐻 "Now just you mind what you're about to say yeah my little ziskeit, just you be very careful what words come out that pretty little mouth of yours next yeah because I've got somethin to say right... I've got something to say... This here yeah, it's bread right but... It don't feel right just calling it bread yeah, cause this here ain't any old bread, this bread right it's a fuckin work of art my little ziskeit, this bread right, it's a masterpiece, one of them modern wonders of the fuckin world right... So just you think very carefully yeah about what you're about to say..."

🐻 "Cause I won't put up with no bread slander today right, I've made up my mind and I just won't tolerate it..."

🐻 You teaching him how to delicately decorate cakes and pastries with ornate little designs. Him getting frustrated because his hands are too big and his fingers are a little too clumsy to master the finer details. You hugging him, kissing his cheek when you reassure him that his gingerbread men aren't "fackin elephant man ugly"

🐻 Your flower stained blush mirroring his flower stained blush when you both realise what you've just done.

🐻 When he's busy working all he wants is a visit from you and he always hopes you'll come down with something from the bakery. He literally sits there in his office pining for you and your "delights" as he calls them, and sometimes when you're late or you can't visit he sits there getting more and more grumpy, poor Ollie has to try and lighten the mood but just gets grumbled at.

🐻 And when you do come to visit Alfie at work he gets jealous when you bring stuff for the workers too and he chides you for "spoiling" them. He only does this because he loves the cheeky smile you give him as you sit down in his lap and offer him something sweet to try, "Don't worry Alfie I didn't forget about you..."

🐻 When he flees to Margate you open a bakery together on the seafront, he tends to hide away in the kitchen getting jealous when local boys come in and flirt with you, occasionally when he's feeling particularly protective he'll come out to spook them.

🐻 but for the most part that little bakery on the sea front is your own little slice of heaven, back in London he'd fed you the idea whenever you were getting worried about him and his business. Whenever you started to fear he was in too deep, making too much trouble for himself.

🐻 And now he's finally made good on that promise to you. It's just you, him and Cyril living a peaceful life together in Margate. The smell of freshly baked bread in the mornings, spending evenings together preparing the dough for the next day's batches.

🐻 You've definitely thrown a handful of flower at him multiple times, definitely "pied" him at least once for being a grumpy old martyr.

🐻 He's definitely given you that look, beckoned you over and instructed you to "clean up your mess now ziskeit, reckon you've had your fun with the fuckin creme patissiere..."

🐻 Scoops up said creme patissiere with his two fingers and feeds it to you, won't smile until your lips are closed round his fingers, your eyes locked with his.

Arthur

🍂 Sorry Arthur bby but...

🍂 I feel like he's a really messy eater, like he chews really gross and definitely talks with his mouth full... Crumbs everywhere, always spilling cream or jam down his shirt...

🍂 Which means you have to instruct him on how to eat your cakes and usually clean him up afterwards too. You have to break a piece of cake off for him and place some in his mouth giving him instructions "right close and chew..."

🍂 But no sooner has he closed his mouth and begun to chew is he forgetting himself again, opening his mouth to tell you how fucking lovely it is and you'd have to hush him up.

🍂 "Fuck me darlin this is fuckin delicious, fuckin heavenly..." he starts getting crumbs everywhere, you're watching exasperated but endeared all the same as he gets crumbs all over the floor and himself. You know there's nothing you can do about this.

🍂 You can't help laugh at him, he's so daft sometimes, doesn't seem to have any idea how funny he looks... But you get a cloth and wipe the cream from his mustache, giggling at him, him chuckling along too when he realises what he's done.

🍂 "Sorry love I can't help it, they taste so good I forget me manners..." "Excuses, excuses.." you tut only teasing him. He actually blushes.

🍂 Arthur loves your baking so much that whenever there's a family meeting he all but insists you bring sweet treats along for everyone.

🍂 "Please darlin I'm beggin you, how are we gonna survive Tommy's fuckin speeches without somethin to eat... He'll have us in there all night with nothin to eat... We'll starve if you don't bring us somethin sweet to eat..." he's so dramatic but you always comply, just rolling your eyes and teasing him. "God Arthur anyone would think you haven't just eaten five of these..." You grin packing tins full of pastries to take with you...

🍂 But he can't help it, he loves your baking and he loves you, thinks the sun shines out of you and your gifted hands so he wants to show off his talented girl and her delicious creations... Upon arriving he will very loudly announce that everyone needs to "fuckin shut up and listen to my Y/N cause she's brought everyone some new cakes to try and they're fuckin delicious..."

🍂 He'll make everyone try one, even Tommy and he'll glare at his brother until he says something nice about your baking.

🍂 "We're fuckin blessed right, to have such a fuckin talented baker in the family..."

🍂 You try to teach him to bake but honestly, he's clumsy, he makes a mess, he can't concentrate on the recipe because he's standing close to you and instead of having his hands in the mixing bowl he just keeps trying to grab you and hug you, can't keep his hands or his lips off you for long enough to get through even the most simple of cookie recipes.

🍂 Honestly if ever you've got something important to bake, a wedding or birthday cake, new stock for the shop you have to lock him out of the kitchen until you're done because he's too much of a distraction.

🍂 You have the fear whenever you're working on something delicate, you have to put signs on the doors reminding Arthur not to slam the doors when he comes home. When you hear him coming you brace yourself, hovering round your delicate creation, wincing when he forgets about not slamming the door.

🍂 "Arthur please my love!" "I know I know I'm sorry sweetheart I'll be careful" he says hands in the air all surrender and sweet, making an effort to tip toe and be careful, forgetting three seconds later much to your despair.

John

🌼 John gives me low-key earth sign vibes, not sun sign earth sign vibes but something else, like a moon perhaps? Anyway my point with that is that John definitely has a love of home comforts, mundane, little luxuries... He likes being spoiled with sweet treats. Likes coming home to find you baking with the little ones.

🌼 I mean he really loves it... There's nothing better than finishing a long day at the betting shop surrounded by drunk, rowdy men, to stop by the bakery on his way home only to find one of his children behind the counter, standing on a stool to help you serve customers. He can hear his other kids giggling in the kitchen and he practically jumps over the counter in excitement to see them and all the mischief they're getting up to whilst your backs turned.

🌼 Him asking for one of your finest cakes, and then when Katy holds her hand out to take his money he grins and says "Well y'see kitty my little love, I spent my last penny on flowers for your mammy so Daddy was hoping he could pay with a kiss eh?"

🌼 When she agrees she's very cheeky, she sighs dramatically and says "fine but just this once..." and when he scoops her up and kisses her cheek about to take the cake from her hand she holds it back and says "one more for mammy."

🌼 So he slips behind the counter and slinks his arm around your waist pulling you away from your work to give you a very dragged out, much needed kiss. The kind he really shouldn't be giving you in front of the customers... Not when there's a queue.

🌼 You shoo him away so that you can get back to work telling him to go and sort his little hellraisers out in the kitchen.

🌼 But John doesn't want you to "get back to work" and so once he's rounded the terrors up and helped them clean up their mess in the kitchen he's right back ar your side, gruffly announcing to the line of customers that the bakeries closed and it's time to go home. Each and every one of your attempts at protest is silenced with a kiss and when you open your mouth to argue with him about it again he takes one of the cakes from the counter and puts it in your mouth to silence you so that in your shock there's nothing for you to do but take a bite, chew and cover your mouth to hide your messy giggle.

🌼 "Can't bloody believe you John Shelby! You're a bloody n..." "Irresistible, devilishly handsome, doting husband? I know love you don't need to tell me..." he teases taking the cake from your hands and helping himself to a bite. "Come along flower, we're all waiting for you, we wanna go home..."

🌼 And when faced with John and the wide doe eyes of all your little ones looking like angels now that dad's come and got them into shape... Well you can hardly refuse them.

🌼 Uses "Teach me how to bake love..." as a premise to get some time with you whilst you're working, his minds really not on baking though he is thinking of putting one in the oven...

🌼 At least one of your children have been conceived in that kitchen...

🌼 When you bring the children with you to family meetings so they can give everyone the cupcakes they made, John gives his brothers warning looks like "you will eat these very girly lookin cupcakes and you will tell my girls they're the best thing you've ever eaten!" he makes a big song and dance of telling everyone how amazing they taste.

🌼 Has started food fights in the kitchen with the kids. Has started food fights with his brothers at family meetings because he wasn't satisfied with Tommy's "wow Katy these are really good..."

🌼 Has definitely defused an argument with you by putting a handful of batter in your hand and instructing you to throw it at him. "C'mon flower, you're pissed off with me ain't you, fuckin throw it if you think I deserve it..." then being shocked and a little bit wounded when you actually do throw it... Arms around you immediately play wrestling with you to get his revenge.

🌼 And this usually ends up with the two of you kissing, wiping cake mix from one another's faces, closing the kitchen door so that your customers can't hear how you really resolve a fight...

🌼 Always making special requests, his favourite things you bake are your berry pies and he gets such a huff on when you inform him that you can't make anymore because the berries in question are out of season anymore. "Fuck the seasons.." gets genuinely cross he can't peaky blinder style intimidate the literal seasons.

Bonnie

🍀 It's unsurprising that Bonnie has quite the appetite considering a) he's a growing lad, and b) he's a boxer, always training, always exhausting himself in the ring...

🍀And yet once he finds your bakery, he's never too tired to stop in after a long day training, and you can't deny you don't look forward to seeing that oh so slightly mischievous smile every evening... so much so that sometimes you stay open just waiting for him to drop by.

🍀 He's always very sweet to you, always leans on the counter chatting away to you whilst he eats the sweet buns you save especially for him... It takes him a little while to realise that's what you're doing but when he works it out, that you hold treats back for him and you even stay open a little later waiting just for him he becomes a butterfly filled mess. Feels really proud, starts cheekily calling you things like "my favourite girl"

🍀then he starts stopping in early too, gets up at the crack of dawn just so he can drop by your bakery on his way to the boxing gym. He uses the excuse that he's hungry, that he needs to fuel himself up for the day but really it's because he wants to see more of you. Wants to get you alone.

🍀He joins you in the kitchen, sometimes helping you out, sometimes just sitting on the counter admiring you whilst you work, being a pest getting his fingers in the jam, pinching the strawberries you've carefully halved to top your pastries.

🍀 You're constantly swatting his hands away and threatening to kick him out but by now you both know you never will. That little crush you thought you might have on the young boxer has flourished and you wake up every morning looking forward to seeing him. In the hours between him leaving in the morning and returning to you after training your little bakery feels so empty and lonely without him.

🍀When he pinches some cherries from the top of one of your pies you gasp in frustration about to give him a scolding but when he sees you, your cheeks flushed that glow of annoyance in your eyes he can't help chuckling at you, telling you he's sorry, saying "c'mere dove, I'll share..." youre about to refuse when you catch the pining look in his eyes, the way he looks at you with such a quiet pining... it lights sparks inside you, leaves your heart racing, makes you feel very forgiving.

🍀So you give in and roll your eyes, say fine, come on share then... and though you expect him to place a cherry in your palm instead he plucks one from the stem and pushes it to your lips, watching you breathlessly as you take it in your mouth and sink your teeth into it. A little juice escapes your mouth and stains your lips and the corner of your mouth deep, sweet red.

🍀And he leans in without even thinking about it, kisses the corner of your mouth to catch the juice before it can trickle further and make a mess of your pretty face.

🍀You don't get much baking done after that and the cherry pie youd been labouring over is left forgotten about on the side whilst you and Bonnie get thoroughly lost in eachother.

🍀From then on Bonnie stops in on you twice a day every day, he walks you to and from the bakery morning and night and quite often makes up excuses to bring you back to the caravans at night. The first time you meet his family you're so nervous, wanting to impress them, the way Bonnie's been spending all his time outside the gym "elsewhere" people have begun to talk and so everyone is curious to meet the girl who has stolen his heart.

🍀You bake plenty of delicious buns and breads to gift them trying to make a good first impression and Bonnie is insistent that you really shouldn't have done, that they'll love you regardless of whether you bribe them with food, but secretly he just wants to keep you and your baked goods all to himself. "If everyone knows how good these are they'll all be coming here and then there'll be none left for me!" He says taking another bite from his second cinnamon bun of the afternoon.

🍀He stops talking however when you catch the stray icing hes got on his cheek and suck it off your finger, "Don't be daft Bonnie, I'll always save enough for you."

🍀He goes foraging for berries and fruits, always bringing you wild herbs he's picked that he thinks you'll be able to do something good with, sprigs of lavender and such to weave into your more intricate designs. His favourite thing however is to convince you to close up shop for the day and go foraging with him, taking you out into the country on the back of his pony, showing you all the best places to find your favourite herbs and flowers.

🍀 Pulling you down into the long grass beneath the trees, cradling you in his lap after a long walk, smothering you in kisses and affection.

Isaiah

🐀 Being the quiet, earthy homebody that you are you're not exactly Isaiah's type. He wouldn't even have met you had it not been for Michael dragging him out to your bakery one morning, insisting that you bake the best pastries in town.

🐀 And at first Isaiah is cynical, "fuckin pastries for breakfast are you soft lad, you eat fuckin pastries for breakfast... Them toffs who raised you really mess with your head didn't..." he's still taking the piss out of Michael when they walk into your bakery but one look at you steals the end of his sentence straight from his lips.

🐀 Because even with a light dusting of flour over your nose, your cheeks rosy from the heat of the oven, stray hairs escaping your pretty little hair scarf, he thinks youre the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on and suddenly he's swallowing all his snide remarks.

🐀 and suddenly he's a little embarrassed, a little uncertain of himself because he's realised he's out of his depth when he wants to charm you. You're so different from the other girls in his life that he just doesn't know what to say to you.

🐀 "Would you like to try something sir?" You ask, your softness literally melting Isaiah. Michael is just sniggering a little smug because he'd known this would happen all along. This was his plan all along.

🐀 And then Isaiah realises that if he plays up to being clueless you will give him all the attention he desires offering for him to try different things, explaining what each item is...

🐀 You're surprised when Isaiah comes back the next day without Michael, you honestly weren't expecting to ever see him again.. it was clear to you that the bars and clubs were more his scene, that he'd choose whiskey and dancing over tea and cake anyday... But clearly Isaiah has his heart on the best of both worlds, he goes out at night with the peaky lads, raises hell and then visits you to see the soothing sight of your angel face every morning.

🐀 His curiosity impresses you though and every morning you pick something out special for him to try... You've heard what he gets up to on his Saturday nights and on Sunday morning you make sure you've got just the right cure for his sore head and jaded eyes.

🐀 Then one morning he doesn't show and you begin to worry about him, when Michael drops by you ask after his friend and though at first Michael laughs, giddy with mischievous excitement when he realises his friends been visiting the sweet little baker every morning... Then however he tells you Isaiah's in the hospital, got caught up in some unpleasant business. He doesn't tell you it's Peaky Blinders business but you know what he means...

Michael

🐀 And you're horrified to learn that the charming Peaky boy you'd grown rather fond of is hurt, so you beg Michael to take you to see Isaiah in the hospital. Michael genuinely can't hide his amusement as you busy yourself making up a basket of sweet and savoury treats for Isaiah, he's just watching you fuss over the hardened peaky lad, can't wait to rip the piss out of his friend who's clearly got an admirer.

🐀 And when you turn up at the hospital placing the basket down at Isaiah's bedside he's shocked... A little embarrassed at the way his attachment to you has been revealed so dramatically. But he's also touched, also beginning to realise how nice it is to have some consistency, how much he loves having someone so homely and comforting to take care of him.

🐀 So he invites you to stay, tells Michael to piss off and he lets you feed him one of the sweet buns you brought him. He's being extra charming, flirting with you, teasing you for your having visited him... "Anyone would think you were me girlfriend coming here an spoilin me like this darlin..."

🐀 You're speechless, you don't know what to say to him but you get very flustered and he thinks that's adorable so he puts you out of your misery very quickly, "can't say I'd mind that me like, havin you as me girlfriend... Lookin after me when I've been through the wars..." "If you want to be my boyfriend Isaiah Jesus you'll have to stop all this scrapping... I don't want to spend every Sunday in the hospital with you..."

🐀 But of course it's not the last time Isaiah winds up in the hospital and every time he does you bring him a basket of sweet treats... It makes him rather popular with the rest of the peaky boys who start dropping in on him much more often so that they can pinch treats from that basket when he isn't looking.

🐀 He asks you to teach him how to bake but much like John he can't keep his hands off you for long enough to learn. He does have quite nimble hands though and so eventually he gets very good at plaiting bread dough with you.

🐀 He's always bragging to Michael and Bonnie about you, he'll bring something from the bakery down to the Shelby offices or the boxing gym just so that he can eat it slowly taunting them about how good it is. "Ah ah boys hands off, my girl made this one just for me..."

☘️ You're so stubborn though he realises this is an argument he's not going to win so eventually he settles for a compromise. You can keep your bakery, keep your little business as long as he can be involved somehow. So he insists on helping with your accounts and being involved in the financial side of things... which you're really rather pleased about as you've never liked running the accounts, numbers aren't your friend and you find it so dull being stuck at a desk when all you want is to be in the kitchen.

☘️ Isn't happy that his girl has a job... he should be able to provide for both of you, he earns enough to spoil you rotten and yet you still insist upon working in that bakery.

☘️ But before you met Michael that bakery was your whole life, you've worked so hard to have a bakery all of your own, to have a business that belongs to you, to be able to make a living from something you love and you're not about to give that up for Michael just because he doesn't understand how much your work means to you...

☘️ And when Michael gets involved with the bakery and you begin to work at it together to grow the business you start trying to use it as a pitch to convince him to go straight, to leave his brothers corruption behind and settle for a humble but comfortable life, a safe life with you.

☘️ Of course that never works, Michael has ideas beyond his station, he likes the luxury which comes with being a gangster, he's enamoured by the glamour and fame which comes with being a Peaky Blinder...

☘️ Instead what ends up happening is that your bakery gets dragged into the Shelby business... When the lads hear about the delicious treats you bake they start coming up with excuses to hold their business meetings in your kitchen where they have access to all the delightful treats you bake fresh from the oven. But they're all so charming and Michael never lets them get up to any trouble so you grow quote fond of having them around.

☘️ You're very dedicated to your craft and Michael gets frustrated when sometimes he feels you pay more attention to bread than to him. He will tell you he's taking you out for dinner, ask you to be ready by seven and then find that you aren't even home... When he goes to find you at the bakery youre dusted head to toe in flower, nowhere near suitably dressed up to go to some fancy restaurant.

☘️ And you always look so genuine when you gasp and apologise for having lost track of time, when you start ranting about how you were just desperately trying to perfect this recipe, that you'd tried one idea and almost set fire to the kitchen so had had to start again, then you'd tried this other idea and it was almost right but not quite and that well, you really just wanted to perfect it so that you could bring it home for him to try because you wanted it to be perfect for him...

☘️ Well he thinks you're the sweetest girl in the world and he can't stay mad at you for very long. He loves that at the end of all that you were actually thinking about him all along, trying to bake the perfect treat just for him... He loves that you wanted it to be perfect for him, it makes him feel really special.

☘️ "Ah well never mind eh love," he sighs taking your cheeks in his hands to brush the flower from your face and kiss your nose, "the corrinthian can wait eh, got everything I need right here..."

☘️ He'll even try to help you with your projects sometimes even though he really doesn't like getting his hands dirty. He'll do it for you, just as long as no one else is around to see him doing some "real work"

☘️ Loves being spoilt by you, loves that you value his opinion above everyone else's. Gets a little wounded when you want to take something to a family meeting to ask everyone to try because "my opinion not good enough for you now love?"

☘️ You always have to pacify him with a kiss and a reminder that his opinion is of course the most important.

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