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signs-of-the-moon · 9 months

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Moon High: Chapter 18

The moon was nearly at its peak in the sky by the time Treeclan reached the Gathering Clearing. At the front of the chosen cats, Blazestar stood, with a stern expression fixed on his face. Clearly he had something on his mind, something he'd soon come to make everyone else's problem too. Moonpaw wasn't too far from him, seeing the anger blazing in his eyes as the orange tom turned to dismiss his clan. Moonpaw crouched a little as she passed him, not wanting to be caught in his path and bother him. She followed the tail of her elder friend, Badgerface, moving up to his side to match pace with him as he mixed into the crowd.

"So what happened to the Moon after the argument with the ocean? I have to know!" Moonpaw insisted, wanting Badgerface to continue a story he'd been telling on the way to the Gathering.

“Ah. Well, you see…” the elder started as they walked.

Moonpaw nodded along to the old tom's words, searching the clearing with her eyes as they padded along. Slowly, Badgerface's fable faded into background noise. Soon, Moonpaw realized she'd drowned it out entirely. She was too occupied looking for Hazepaw to focus. She was eager for the white tom to pop out and surprise her–like he'd done at the last full moon meeting. Though many white pelts mingled through the clearing, none belonged to her dear friend. Disappointment began to worm its way into Moonpaw's chest. It must have shown on her face, too, as Badgerface gave pause.

“Moon, I think you should go mingle with some cats your own age now," he meowed, resting his tail on her back.

A pang of guilt suddenly gripped Moonpaw. She parted her jaws, ready to apologize for losing interest in the elder's story. Then the crackly mrrrp of another cat split through the air. A trio of old warriors appeared a bear-length ahead. Oh, perhaps it wasn't her sullen expression that had made Badgerface stop speaking. Instead, the arrival of his friends must have prompted him to set the task aside, for now. A golden tom, a long haired spotted molly, and a white mangled faced tom trotted up to Badgerface. Moonpaw looked at them in awe as they greeted her elder friend. Their pelts were littered with scars, which spoke of battles Moonpaw would love to hear tales of.

Badgerface laughed with sarcasm as one of the elders quipped at him. Something about bothering young apprentices with helping him get around in his old age. Then Badgerface moved to cuff the old she-cat over the ears. Afterwards, he pushed the golden tom to the ground playfully, displaying how capable and strong he still was as a counter-argument. The scarred white tom simply shook his head with a smile at the display.

Moonpaw mrrowed with laughter as she watched the old cats tussling as though they were kits. It made her heart feel warm to see them so lively, even at their age. But it was clear Moonpaw wouldn't fit in with this group, so she allowed Badgerface to go on ahead without her.

Moonpaw's gaze flitted over the throng of cats, still looking for that familiar pelt. One did emerge, but it didn't belong to Hazepaw. Instead it was Deerpaw, Tigerpaw's brother. He looked a little skittish with enemy warriors pressed around him on all sides.

Despite being a moon older than Moonpaw, this was Deerpaw's first Gathering. He'd been too nervous to attend his first few. But he swore he could handle going this time around. Moonpaw could practically smell his fear. Clearly, Deerpaw had lied. It was sad to see him in such a state. So Moonpaw made her presence known to him, gently pressing her flank to his. Though he jolted a little, the tom instantly relaxed, realizing a clanmate had come to his aid. Moonpaw urged him to follow her to a less crowded part of the clearing, where he could feel more secure. Upon receiving the space he so desperately craved, Deerpaw heaved a sigh. He sat back on his haunches, then looked to Moonpaw almost teary eyed.

"Thanks," he murmured before wrapping his fluffy tail around himself.

"It's no trouble." Moonpaw twitched her ears. "Are you sure you were ready to be here tonight, chipmunk? You know you could always go home."

Deerpaw lowered his ears. "Don't want to..."

Moonpaw tilted her head curiously. Deerpaw looked as though he were ready to pass out with so many strangers around. Why did he push himself to deal with such anxiety?

"I'm too grown to be scared of Gatherings. That's what Tinypaw said. I want to be braver, to make her proud," Deerpaw elaborated.

Moonpaw nodded, understanding his choice now. Tinypaw was his favorite littermate. It made sense he'd want to face his fear for her. Especially so they could enjoy Gatherings together, like tonight.

"Deerpaw!"

Moonpaw swung around when she heard the high pitched mew of the pale tortoiseshell molly. Tinypaw came bounding over to them. Relief washed over her features when she saw her brother safe. Her tail raised in greetings as she got closer.

"There you are! I was starting to worry about you." Tinypaw rubbed her muzzle against Deerpaw's. Then she turned to Moonpaw. "Thanks for guiding him from the crowd. I'm sure the stupid furball was getting overwhelmed by the amount of cats around."

"...don't like strangers..." Deerpaw pouted and slumped his shoulders. Tinypaw moved closer to him, licking the tom over the ears. She was exactly his height, when he was sitting.

“It really was no trouble,” Moonpaw assured with a tail sway, left ignored as Tinypaw fussed over her brother. Though she wished to carry on a conversation with her denmates–perhaps to distract herself from looking for Hazepaw more–it was clear she wouldn't get much out of the pair. After trying and failing again to catch Tinypaw's attention, Moonpaw padded back into the crowd.

She mewed small "hellos” to cats she passed as she went back to searching for Hazepaw. Along the way she walked by Nightpaw, who was standing beside Wolfheart. Moonpaw's father was boasting about the apprentice to some of his friends, praising her quick wit and skills. Nightpaw was practically glowing with pride as her mentor spoke of her accomplishments. She looked up to him, it seemed, as she added in how good Wolfheart was as a teacher. Moonpaw had never seen the she-cat so happy before.

Not far away, Nightpaw's mother, Darkfire, was standing beside two other tough looking warriors. Her claws were unsheathed as she told them about a recent Oceanclan skirmish she'd helped win. A close by sand speckled warrior had his eyes narrowed at her, clearly agitated by her recount of the event.

There were others from Moonpaw's clan nearby as well, and cats she recognized from patrols and the previous Gathering. But none of them were Hazepaw. For a short while more, Moonpaw continued looking for him. But it did not seem like he was present tonight. Defeat weighed down Moonpaw's heart like a heavy stone. He promised he'd make it to the Gathering. Has something happened? She wondered.

Moonpaw paused to look at Split Rock. Four of the five leaders were present atop the ancient cracked boulder. They'd be calling the gathered cats together soon, for sure. It looked like they were waiting for Brightstar to arrive. Moonpaw supposed she could wait in her place alone until the announcements began. It was a good spot to listen and be out of everyone's way. Then, someone called out to her;

"Hi, Moonpaw!"

For a heartbeat she perked up, turning around to see who'd called. Yet disappointment greeted her again as Sunpaw stood in front of her.

"Oh, Hi Sunny.” Moonpaw deflated.

"You look a little down." Sunpaw blinked. Moonpaw gave a shrug. "Is it because you're lonely? I could keep you company, if you'd like?"

Moonpaw thought for a heartbeat. Though she'd like to stay where she was, in case Hazepaw finally decided to show his face, she had to admit she was feeling lonesome. Perhaps spending time with Sunpaw could cheer her up.

"I would like that, actually," she admitted.

Sunpaw lit up. "Great!" He made a small hop. "Come with me!" Before Moonpaw could say anything about going elsewhere, Sunpaw was leading her through the crowd.

Near a fallen branch, a few other cats appeared to be waiting for them. Moonpaw glanced at Sunpaw, confused. He seemed excited to meet with these other cats, his tail held high as he led her towards them.

"Hi everyone!" He chirped.

“There you are, Sunpaw!” Purred a longhaired tabby with the scent of the mountains on her pelt. Beside her sat two Oceanclan mollies, sand dusted fur. Sitting opposite of them was a young muddy Marshclan warrior. And next to her were two slender Grassclan she-cats. They all mewed various greetings to Sunpaw, a couple stepping up to touch noses with him. Gee, Sunpaw's really popular with she-cats, Moonpaw discovered as she observed his group of friends.

“‘Bout time you showed up,” grunted the only tom of the group, sitting off to the sidelines. Moonpaw couldn't pull her gaze from him once she looked over. Something about the tom seemed familiar to her. When she sniffed, his scent brought her an odd sense of nostalgia; the same way thinking about Skunkpaw or Rainkit did. But that was silly! How could she feel that way about a cat she'd never met? Was it a crush? Certainly not! But Moonpaw's head felt fuzzy the more she stared at the stranger. It was as if she'd met him before; like the tom had come from a dream. But Moonpaw was sure she'd never seen him until now.

“I found my clanmate sitting by herself. Otherwise I would have been here sooner.” Sunpaw's voice drew Moonpaw out of her thoughts. Then his head tilted in her direction. “Everyone, this is Moonpaw. Moonpaw, this is Pinepaw of Mountainclan, Stemflower of Marshclan, Otterpaw and Whisperpaw of Oceanclan, and Heatherpaw, Quailpaw, and Rabbitpaw of Grassclan,” he introduced, pointing his muzzle to each named cat.

Moonpaw nodded her head respectfully to them. “It's nice to meet you all.”

“So you are the fated moon spoken of so often.” Whisperpaw stared, her voice hushed and monotone. It was almost eerie, the way that she spoke.

“Does Sunpaw talk about me..?” Moonpaw blinked curiously, the fur on the back of her neck rising slightly.

“Sometimes he doesn't shut up about you,” Rabbitpaw snorted. Sunpaw's pelt bristled at the lynx point tom's comment. While Heatherpaw jabbed her denmate in the side with her elbow to be quiet. Moonpaw looked to Sunpaw, seeking an explanation. But he refused to give one, instead opting to lick down his chest fur. It was if he were trying to wash away the flustered feelings he was experiencing. Moonpaw resisted the urge to giggle.

"Anyways! Uhm, last time we met up, Stemflower was telling us about what it's like to be a warrior," Sunpaw mentioned, trying to change the subject.

"That's right." Stemflower flicked an ear, motioning to Rabbitpaw. "Rabbitpaw said he was interested in the duties I've taken up. I chose to be a Spy and a Gardener."

"What's a Gardener?" Quailpaw, a light brown tabby molly asked.

"They grow plants on the dry land Mountainclan gave to Marshclan, in the pine tree forest," Pinepaw explained.

"I've never heard of such a job." Rabbitpaw swayed his tail.

"Us either," Moonpaw added while Sunpaw nodded in agreement.

"I don't think the other clans are taught what Gardeners are. Considering they aren't needed out on the meadow, or in the forest," Stemflower told Pinepaw.

"Why do Gardeners grow plants?" Sunpaw wondered.

"For our medicine cats, mostly," the dark gray tabby she-cat responded. "Some herbs have a difficult time growing in the marsh. So we need to cultivate them ourselves. We also like to have plants for our dens; for construction and decoration. And we occasionally like to mix herbs in with our prey."

"Mixing herbs with prey?" Otterpaw wrinkled her nose.

Nasty! Moonpaw stuck out her tongue. She could almost taste the bitterness of the plants as she thought about having to eat them with her meals.

"Herbs can have nutritional value, besides those for healing," Rabbitpaw spoke up, "or so my sister, Mistypaw, says. So I guess cats are told to eat them to help make Marshclan's warriors stronger, right?"

Stemflower purred, looking amused. "Something like that. The plants we eat also happen to taste good with the prey we catch. Brightstar isn't ordering us to take herbs so we can be stronger than normal warriors, in case that's what you're implying."

Speaking of the Marshclan leader, Moonpaw began to scent the strong odor of mud and saltwater beside her, as the flame point she-cat walked passed. Her shoulder brushed against Moonpaw's accidentally, catching the Treeclan apprentice's attention. Brightstar turned for a heartbeat and flashed an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, 'Paw, didn't mean to bother you. Just have to get past to start the meeting!"

Moonpaw smiled and stepped aside. "It's alright! I understand." It was almost awe-striking to interact with a clan leader besides her own. Most leaders would not mingle among the crowd for long after arriving at the Gathering clearing. But Brightstar seemed different. Though her clan was usually on time, she was almost always late to join her peers on Split Rock, it seemed. Moonpaw supposed she liked to spend time with her outer clan friends first. Or perhaps she liked meeting random cats, the way she was right now.

"It's an honor to meet you, Brightstar!" Moonpaw couldn't help but blurt out.

Brightstar blinked, then let out a small mrrow of laughter. She flicked her tail with good nature, receiving a respectful head dip from Moonpaw in return. The other apprentices with her mimicked her motion. Moonpaw noticed her new friends looking just as excited as she felt when meeting Brightstar.

Stemflower, on the other paw, nodded curtly to her leader, who brushed her tail along the warrior's shoulder. Then the Marshclan leader scurried off, taking her place beside Blazestar and the others.

"Let the Gathering begin!" Fogstar declared, looking down at the cats who gathered beneath Split Rock. Moonpaw made herself comfortable in a spot beside her new companions, tilting her head back to listen to the news of the evening. Sunpaw settled himself at her side, pressing their flanks together while they listened for news.

Fogstar glanced between the other leaders seated beside him. They nodded, granting him the opportunity to speak first, once the crowd settled.

"Welcome, everyone," he greeted, sounding as though he were in a better mood this moon than the last. "I come with much to report from Mountainclan. Firstly, my son, Darkpaw, has been accepted by Starclan, and will be training under Hawkfern as a medicine cat. Meanwhile our Code Keeper, Rockfall, has taken on Skypaw as his successor. Mountainclan welcomes these new apprentices, and hope Starclan will guide their paws on their journeys to become high ranking members of society." A pause was given so cats may call out the names of Darkpaw and Skypaw in celebration. Then, as silence returned, Fogstar continued; "Secondly, one of our warriors, Briarleaf, will be moving into the nursery after tonight. Her kits should come as Greenleaf arrives, and we are thrilled to welcome them into our ranks. Finally, Talonstrike has chosen to retire. He has served Mountainclan as a warrior for many years, and we are honored to care for him now, as he has cared for us. That is all I have to share this evening. Brightstar?"

Next, Brightstar stepped up to speak. "Marshclan also has big news to share, although not as joyus as yours, Fogstar. Coyotes have been spotted on the marsh. They're usually careful around clan cats. But this new bunch seems to be more tenacious than other families we've seen." Brightstar gave a moment of pause to allow cats to quiet down their murmurs of concern. "They also appear to be seeking territory to claim. My warriors have been doing their best to drive them out, so they will not stake claim on our land. But I believe this may push these beasts onto other territories in the Land's Star. So I urge you all to be cautious." Then Brightstar turned to the other leaders. Her expression shone with regret. But none of her peers seemed too upset by what she'd determined best for her clan.

"Which clan are they headed towards?" Blazestar decided to ask, his expression calmer than the other leaders'. Treeclan was the furthest from Marshclan. Moonpaw was certain that Blazestar was unbothered by the news of these unusual predators. Still, he seemed to care enough about the wellbeing of others to ask that question anyways.

"They'll likely turn to Mountainclan territory. With the upcoming warm weather, they'll probaby enjoy the cool air the higher altitude provides," the flame point she-cat answered

Fogstar grunted. "In that case, Mountainclan will increase it's border patrols."

Another murmur broke out among the crowd. Moonpaw glanced between all the cats around her, gauging their reactions. Not too far off she saw Nightpaw. Her eyes were narrowed with interest, ears pricked and eager to hear more about the coyotes. Moonpaw then looked beside her to Sunpaw, who seemed to also have noticed their clanmate. He looked concerned for a heartbeat. Then he blinked and his expression settled. Moonpaw decided she'd ask him his thoughts later.

Brightstar nodded. "Beyond that startling news, Marshclan has fared well this moon. Prey has increased, our clan is strong, and we look forward to Greenleaf. That's all I have to report."

Following her, Blazestar stepped up to share whatever had been bothering him all night. "Treeclan is strong and continues to thrive as Greenleaf makes it approach. Though last moon we lost Skunkpaw, one of our apprentices. Twolegs kitnapped him. Our efforts to bring him home have yielded no results, but Treeclan remains hardy in the face of this tragedy. We've also been handling the pressures at our borders with diligence, and will continue to do so as long as Grassclan and Oceanclan keep pushing."

"What do you mean by that?" Oceanclan's leader, Wavestar, challenged. Whitestar of Grassclan nodded along.

With a tail lash, the blazing orange leader continued; "Grassclan and Oceanclan scents have been caught beyond our borders. The stench of Grassclan has come particularly far into the forest. While Oceanclan remains close enough to the edge that they seem to be trying to act sneaky, still. But rest assured, my warriors are aware of your trespassing."

Dread struck through Moonpaw like lightning. Had some of her clanmates caught Hazepaw's scent on the Rubble Path from their meetings? Had they noticed hers there as well? Moonpaw's heartbeat quickened. She looked up to Blazestar, checking if he was eyeing her. But his focus was being held up by the enemy leaders instead. We'll have to be more careful from now on, she decided. Sunpaw pressed into her more, sensing her discomfort.

"It's rich of you to accuse my cats of trespassing." Whitestar's ears narrowed. "Have you seen any of my warriors on your land? No? Because we've certainly seen yours on our territory! A warrior caught a Treeclan apprentice prowling around the Forest Patch without cause, just today!"

Gasping, Moonpaw whipped her head, looking around for her denmates. Sunpaw was of course the first apprentice she saw. His pelt was bristled and he shook his head at her, silently swearing he was not the guilty cat. Next, Moonpaw looked over at Nightpaw. The black she-cat appeared unbothered, busying herself whispering with Wolfheart. Then, Moonpaw spotted Tinypaw and Deerpaw in the distance--right where she'd left them earlier. Tinypaw was standing protectively in front of her brother; her body too small to act as a proper shield. Closer-by was Magpiepaw, who sat with some of her own cross clan friends. She was crouched, ears lowered a little. She looked frightened, guilty even. Was it her? Moonpaw wondered, finally returning her attention back to the leaders.

"There were other Treeclan cats with her," Whitestar continued, "all fully grown warriors. What do you have to say about that, Blazestar?"

Fury burned in Blazestar orange eyes. He grit his teeth, clearly holding back a growl. Then he shut his eyes, lowering his head a little with a slow shake. When he looked up again, he seemed calmer. "My warriors were only carrying out their duty to mark the border, nothing more. I will speak with all of Treeclan's apprentices, to ensure no border crossing occurs again. But I will not correct the cats who knew what they were doing."

"So you admit that you sent your cats to mark further into the Forest Patch than they should?" Though Whitestar's voice was calm, it held sharp accusation.

"I've said no such thing!" Blazestar snarled. "My warriors know where Treeclan's territory is!”

With an indignant hrrumph, Grassclan's leader lifted a paw to lick. "See to it that they know what land rightfully belongs to Grassclan, as well. Or we will be forced to remind them ourselves." After glaring at Blazestar a heartbeat more, Whitestar faced the crowd. "Grassclan is and will remain strong despite the adversity. We have Cricketsong's newly named kits, who are quickly growing each day. We also have many strong apprentices; two of which will soon join us as full warriors. That is all I have to say this Gathering. Unless you've something else to accuse my clan of, Blazestar?"

Blazestar bared his teeth but bit back his tongue. He forced himself to sit further back onto his piece on Split Rock. Then he tucked his paws beneath his waggling tail. "No," he finally growled.

Wavestar stepped forward. "Then I suppose I should speak my news," he decided. "Oceanclan is doing better, now that the Newleaf storms are subsiding. We've begun venturing back to the beach. We are also reconstructing our original camp, which was wrecked by the waves in the bad weather. I believe within the next moon, Oceanclan should be moving back to the Twoleg Settlement Bridge. That should bring you some peace of mind, Blazestar."

"I'll have peace of mind when your clan stops fighting for the Rubble Path," the ginger tom hissed.

"I won't promise anything," Wavestar grunted.

Blazestar snarled at him in turn, moving to get in the silver and white tabby's face. But Brightstar butted in, piping;

"It seems that's everything that needs to be said at this Gathering!"

"Yes," Fogstar agreed, "let's end this now, before you lot break the full moon truce."

Though the two toms appeared ready to continue their quarrel, they agreed. With a nod, the leaders went their separate ways, weaving through the crowd to gather their warriors.

Sunpaw and Moonpaw took a short while to say farewell to their friends group before following each other to the edge of the clearing, seating themselves at Blazestar's side. Blazestar paused for a moment to rub against his son before calling to his gathered cats. He led them out of the Gathering Clearing and into the forest, but not before shooting a challenging glare over his shoulder towards Oceanclan. Moonpaw knew that tensions were high. But she hoped that things settled soon.

#warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #wcs #wcs ocs #signs of the moon: moon high #signs of the moon #moon high #chapter 18 #moon pov #sorry this took so long I didn't really enjoy writing this chapter as much as most others #also the holidays kicked my ass. got screamed at a lot at work and it burnt me out sooo bad #lost interest in a lot of things for a while there but its getting better #next chapter should come out on time hopefully #there's some other life stuff going on so provided things don't get worse everything should be normal again

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valeriianz · 1 year

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you're probably very busy, but i just wanted to drop by and say im eagerly waiting on the next bolt in the blue chapter!! i adore the fic and can't wait for more shenanigans <3

oh my goodness, hi :')

thank you very much ahh, im glad to hear it <3 real life is very hectic right now, and my mental health isn't in the best place either. so believe me when i say all i want is for my brain to cooperate with me and work on the next chapter haha.

#i was about to say this was unexpected #but then i checked the last time i updated the fic and...#its been 3 months. oof.#so i guess this is expected haha #thank you anyway for the ask and the super gentle nudge #i really do appreciate it #<3 #i know i'll be in a much better place after this move #hopefully we can expect a chapter update next month #for realzies!#wizardofgoodfortune #i should make an ask tag

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netherzon · 1 year

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I Will Reign King at Sea

FINALLY, I have started posting the pirate Gerame fic I’ve been working on (research) for almost a year now! I’m really excited that I’ve finally gotten to start actually writing it, hopefully y’all like it too ^u^

Ao3 link here (with more tags), or you can read ch1 under the cut.

Thank you to my friend Lauri for helping with some of the translations <3

RE: historical inaccuracies, I am trying my best but also changing some things on purpose cause its fiction and I like the story better that way. I will try to add notes clarifying whenever I write something in a way I know is historically inaccurate. I’m also not a sailor, the boat terms are what I’ve picked up online. If you suddenly find yourself needing to sail a two or three masted ship, do not use this as a guide.

Chapter 1: Heimweh (Pt 1)

4,467 words

Coming to London had been a mistake.

It’s the first coherent thought Ludwig has as he’s coming back to consciousness, head pounding, still feeling like the Earth was swaying beneath him. They really went overboard last night. He can’t remember having a hangover this bad in years.

Why did I go along with Gilbert like that?

His brother had taught him to never turn down a free drink though, and the man had been pleasant enough company, even with Ludwig having to translate back and forth for everyone. He’d said he was a sailor, celebrating his last night on land before heading out across the Atlantic the next day.

Maybe it wasn’t London that was the mistake then. Maybe it was just going out drinking with Gilbert in London.

Too tired and in pain to open his eyes just yet, he runs through a checklist of his other senses first. Taste: bile, his mouth is dry, his throat is sore. Gilbert would say that’s the fault of subpar English beer. Touch: his clothes are damp, what he would expect after waking up on the side of the road or in an alleyway after the morning fog has rolled in. If he’s lucky it's only that, puddles and fog and maybe some beer, rather than something worse. He’d gone out in one of his nicest waistcoats after all. Sound: people are yelling, moving things all around him, creaking wood and the sound of water. He was probably still close to the river then, at least. He could find his way home with the river as a landmark. Smell: salt, just salt. It overpowered all the other smells he was expecting. He didn’t remember the Thames smelling like a salted herring had been shoved up his nose, but it was borderline painful.

And why can’t I feel the ground?

Something is wrong.

Slowly, Ludwig opens an eye. Instead of the sky he imagined, he is greeted by the sight of wood above him, dark and solid, coated with tar and keeping light out. The gaps between planks are sealed with a mixture of tar and rope.

It's to keep out water, his brain provides for him.

The ceiling moves, too. Or, no, that’s him. He’s the one moving. Whatever he’s lying on rocks slowly back and forth like a pendulum. A hammock. The kind they use on boats, so sailors don’t roll out of their beds in their sleep. Usually he might admire what an ingenious solution that is, except I’m not supposed to be on a boat right now why does it seem like I’m on a boat right now because I can’t be on a boat right now that’s not possible—

He sits up properly for the first time. Everything else is wood, too. The only light comes from open hatches in the ceiling and cutouts in the walls. Men are still rushing around, unaware of his mental crisis. They’re facial hair is neat (for now). Their clothes are plain but clean (for now). He can’t smell them through the salt crystals that have been growing in his nostrils while he was unconscious, but they look like they’d smell fine (for now).

Oh fuck, I’m on a boat.

Walking is harder than he imagined. Not only does the motion of the ship ruin his balance, but his shoes were also stolen. The wood under his feet is cold, and the tarred ceiling isn't foolproof. Every odd spot of slimy algae he steps in makes him cringe.

He wanders somewhat aimlessly, unsure where to go, or who to talk to. Though the ship is buzzing with activity, everyone else seems to have a task. It’s confusing. It's disorienting. None of the men pushing around barrels, taking stock of supplies, or turning in for their own break pay him any attention at all. He wants to find Gilbert, but he feels guilty thinking it, knowing how bad it would be if his brother were trapped here with him, especially when he doesn’t speak English.

For now, he settles on reaching the top deck. It feels like it could only have been a minute or two since he woke up here, and already he’s craving the feeling of the sun on his skin. He’s never thought of himself as claustrophobic before.

What a terrible time to learn something new about yourself.

The top deck has even more activity. Not only are people moving barrels around and counting supplies, but now there’s ropes involved too. The sky is blocked out by a spider web of hemp and canvas, sticky with tar just like the deck. The cold dampness of the wood is even worse up here. There’s no more protection from the sea spray or the wind, and they both cut through his clothes like a knife through soft butter. It makes him shiver in ways even the constant London rain hadn’t achieved. His eyes bounce back and forth: stairs, sails, ropes, wind, barrels, voices, boxes, rats, waves, people, salt, cannons. It’s a cacophony for all of his senses. The day feels cold despite the sun.

Somebody bumps into him, almost sending him tumbling back down the stairs. They barely spare him a glance as they disappear under the deck.

He squints against the sunlight, forcing himself to look beyond everything around him, but there’s nothing else to see. Just water. In every direction, all he can see is water, so bright reflecting the sun that it's painful to look at. Even his gaze is trapped on this ship.

“Ludwig!” he hears a familiar voice say behind him.

He turns to see his older brother watching him across the deck. He’s half guilty and half relieved. It was so nice to see something that made sense, someone familiar, his immediate instinct is to hug him and not let go until they reach land again. “Bruder,” he says as he quickly moves closer.

Gilbert doesn’t look to be in a hugging mood, however. His brow is lowered, his eyes dark and serious. His whole body was as taught as the rope he was pulling. His fists were clenched tightly, white(er) knuckles and all. It was the most upset Ludwig had seen him in a long time. He didn’t say anything else.

Ludwig reaches to loosen Gilbert’s grip. He takes hold of the rope, and wraps it around the first wooden peg he sees, uncaring what the rope or the peg are meant for. Then he takes hold of Gilbert’s hands. They’re blistered red and rubbed raw, despite all the calluses he’d developed in the military. The color stands out grotesquely on his pale skin. “Wie lange bist du hier?” Ludwig asks with concern. “Wie spät ist es?” He looks at the sky, as though the sun would tell him. In theory it could. There are people who know how to tell the time using the position of the sun and some fancy protractors. But he doesn’t have that skill. He’s never needed it before.

Gilbert remains silent. He notices now that Gilbert’s feet are also bare, like Ludwig’s, and he’s wearing the same loose white shirt and pants as the sailors around them, unlike Ludwig. Strange, he could’ve sworn last night Gilbert wore his—

“Sie haben meine Uniform geklaut," Gilbert chokes out, angry and miserable. One of the hands Ludwig is holding clenches into a tight fist.

Well, that explains things somewhat. Gilbert took a lot of pride in his uniform.

“Wer?” Ludwig asks.

“Ich weiß nicht,” Gilbert says with more visible anger this time. “Sie könnte geklaut worden sein bevor wir hierher geschleppt wurden oder danach. Sie könnte schon über Bord geworfen worden sein!” the thought makes Gilbert shudder, “Ich weiss nur, dass ich praktisch nackt aufgewacht bin und niemand mir sagen wollte, was Sie mit meiner Uniform gemacht haben!”

“Dann?”

Gilbert’s angry look focuses more firmly on Ludwig, and at the same time becomes a little softer, “Wie sieht es aus, Ludwig? Dann haben sie mich an die Arbeit gesetzt. Du bist Arzt, du bist schlauerer als das, Bruder.”

A slight smile reaches Ludwig’s face. Seeing his brother’s familiar defiant attitude brings him the first sense of warmth he’s felt since he woke up. “Medizinstudent meinst du,” he corrects out of habit.

He earns an exaggerated sigh in response. A gust of wind blows along with it. Behind them the rope unravels, and flies across the deck. There are shouts as one of the beams holding the sails twists suddenly around the mast, narrowly avoiding the mast behind it as it catches on other ropes which are probably important. A man is left dangling from the end of the beam.

Gilbert jumps back into action, grabbing the rope and holding it in place while Ludwig stands there in shock. An angry voice carries across the deck, “Who left the brace unsecured!?” Ludwig watches someone help the man hanging off the end of it climb back up. Gilbert turns towards him, mouth open to say something until he grimaces at something over Ludwig’s shoulder. That’s when the man from last night appears.

He storms towards them from the other end of the boat. The thumping of his leather boots on the deck announces his fury before he gets close. When he sees Ludwig’s face though, he suddenly smiles.

“Oh! You’re awake,” the man looks him up and down. “That's good! Would’ve been quite a waste if you’d died,” he jokes.

He looks a decade older than Ludwig, with a dark beard and hair made wavy by the salt in the air. His short blue jacket and mariner’s cuffs matched the color of the water and sky all around them. He had the cocked woolen hat typical of sailors. Absurdly, the shape suddenly reminds Ludwig of Apfelecke, and the stab of homesickness is sharp. A whole year living and studying in London, missing his home, and now he’s been dropped here, where the world is just salt water.

What do they even eat on boats? I don’t even know.

The man continues smiling jovially at Ludwig, holding out a hand to shake. Over his shoulder, Ludwig can see some other sailors pulling the dangling man back up. “I don’t remember what name I gave you last night, but you can call me Hal now.”

“You…don’t remember your own name?” Ludwig asks, thoroughly confused.

This question makes Hal laugh, but not in a kind way, “No, son, we go by many names in this line of work. It's a matter of…professionalism.” His mouth crinkles with a smile. Somehow he makes it seem predatory.

Ludwig makes a noise of acknowledgement, and intentionally glosses over how criminal that sounds. Whatever hope he had that this whole thing was a mistake is being tossed out the window. Or maybe tossed overboard, in this case.

He’d heard rumors of men being press-ganged for naval service, but none of the men here were wearing navy uniforms, and he couldn’t imagine what they’d want with him and his brother. There were so many disadvantages to this plan. It was obvious in the way Hal glanced past Ludwig and sneered when he saw Gilbert there pretending he knew how to secure the same rope he’d been holding earlier. He was looping it around itself in a facsimile of knot tying, all the while trying to hold it steady against the wind manually.

“If I may ask,” Ludwig glances again at Hal’s fine clothes, “sir, I’m afraid I don’t remember much of last night, how did my brother and I end up here exactly?”

Hal strokes his beard carefully, “Right, well, you’d have to talk to the Captain ‘bout that.” He points to the back of the boat, where there’s a set of doors leading inside the raised portion the wheel stands on.”He’ll be in his quarters, but you can go right in,” Hal smiles at Ludwig again. At least it feels less like he wants to eat him this time, “You have an important job here you know, ehm,...”

There’s a pause. “....Ludwig?” Ludwig says.

“Right! Ludwig. I knew that,” Hal claps a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shove towards the captain’s quarters. It's very hard for Ludwig to hold back a snort of derision. Instead he looks over at his brother, still fake tying that rope and fake pretending he’s not listening to their conversation. Ludwig knows Gilbert isn’t listening, but that’s not because he can’t hear them. He considers relaying the conversation, the situation, his suspicions to Gil, but Hal pushes him towards the other end of the boat, and he settles for eye contact and a confident nod. Gilbert frowns, but he nods back anyway, trusting his brother. Ludwig smiles softly. Whatever might happen to him, his brother will struggle even more with a language barrier here. Gilbert's relying on him to fix this for the both of them.

I’ve never failed him before, I don’t intend to now.

He trips over a coil of rope on the way over.

Hal and Gilbert watch his back as he walks. Hal turns away first, glaring at the way the pale-haired man stands there fiddling with the same damn rope. “Alright lad, I don’t know if you’re dumb or what, but frankly I don’t really care. All I need you to do is your damn job. We’re already sailing close-hauled to the wind, any more cock ups like that and it’ll start to cost us time, and that will cost us money.” He yanks the rope away and wacks the man in the legs with the end to make sure he’s paying attention. As slowly as he can possibly go, he demonstrates the proper way to tie it. “This. Is. A. Cleat. Hitch. Got it?” he enunciates, pointing firmly.

The other man’s face screws up in a sneer, “Ihre Mutter fickt Esel.”

Hal just sneers back at him, confused and annoyed that they got stuck bringing the village idiot along when he refused to leave the other man’s side last night, even after he got so drunk he could hardly stand.

If anything, Hal’s visible incomprehension makes the idiot angrier.

“Just go help them haul the yard up the main mast,” Hal gestures towards another group of men amidships.

As Ludwig stumbles his way to the captain’s quarters he reviews his scant knowledge of sailing, anything he ever picked up by chance. The forward motion of a ship relies on the wind. The big logs holding all the sails were called masts. Ships could navigate using stars. But other than that, his knowledge mostly relates to illnesses. They’d had a ship of sailors riddled with scurvy come into the college for a demonstration once. Ludwig had vivid memories of the physical exams they’d practiced, but that had no relevance to actual sailing.

Ludwig stops for a moment to take in the ornate mahogany door, complete with a brass door knocker in the shape of a lion. He bypasses this in favor of a straightforward knock with his hand.

The first thing he notices in the room is the small chandelier. The metal chain squeaks more than it doesn’t as it sways endlessly with the motion of the boat and the water. He’s drawn to the flames as they swing away and towards and away again from the wooden ceiling. Hot wax threatens to drip down onto the floor rather than the trays under the candle. He can already see several spots of hardened wax on the carpet. He’s forced to walk into the room at an angle to avoid any hot wax falling on him next. It all seems needlessly dangerous, especially in the room with the ship's most important assets.

On either side of him are heavy wooden desks covered in maps. Star charts, compasses, and miniature globes crowd out more mahogany, this time with a mother of pearl inlay. The Persian carpet under his bare feet is somehow equally uncomfortable as the cold, unyielding wood up till that point.

A third desk stands across from the door. Behind it sits a man with even more gray in his beard and an even bigger hat than Hal had. His skin is so pale it seems like he hardly leaves this room. He puffs on a long black pipe as he watches Ludwig approach. Behind him is a painting of a ship caught in a storm caught in a golden frame. It makes Ludwig wince.

He coughs a little, as the smoke replaces the fresh air in his lungs. The man watches him in silence. “You are the Captain, correct?” Ludwig asks.

The man grins at him, and reaches out a hand to shake, suddenly as genial as Hal had been. His voice is gravely, and not very forceful “Captain Nicholls, and you?”

“Pleasure to meet you Captain Nicholls,” he replies mechanically,” my name is Ludwig.”

The Captain raises a curious eyebrow, “Well then, Ludwig, what can I do for you?”

A bit of the tension leaves Ludwig’s shoulders. Whatever confrontation he’d been expecting, this isn’t it. “I’m afraid my brother and I were brought onto your ship by mistake,” Ludwig leaves out the part about how drunk they both must have been.

His relief doesn’t last very long. Captain Nicholls belly laughs at Ludwig’s statement, throwing his whole body back and making the chair creak in harmony with the chandelier. Ludwig fights the urge to tense back up. What was so amusing about his statement?

Relax. Even if they meant to do this, normal people don’t kidnap other people for no reason, and there’s no good reason for them to kidnap you or Gilbert. You have plenty of arguments in your favor still.

The laughter sends the Captain into a coughing fit. The wet, hacking cough tugs at Ludwig’s brain. It reminds him of other people they had examined in school. The ones that had growths in their lungs at autopsy. When Captain Nicholls finally regains control of himself, the expression he fixes on Ludwig is disdainful. “With all due respect, lad,” the word makes Ludwig frown, “I wouldn’t have let you and your drunken hooligan friend stay on my ship if it was a mistake.”

This only makes Ludwig frown harder. “So, you meant to kidnap us?” he asks for clarity.

The Captain waves a dismissive hand, “You make it sound so sinister when you say ‘kidnapping’. We prefer 'press-ganging’’ in the business.”

“The business of kidnapping?”

“‘Press-ganging,’” Nicholls insists. He puffs again on his pipe in a way Ludwig can only describe as ‘smug’.

Ludwig’s fists are clenched. He takes a breath and forces himself to relax again. It only partially works. “So, the business of ‘press-ganging’ then?” he forces out of his gritted teeth.

The Captain shakes his head, “Oh no, the business of sailing, lad.” Ludwig hears something in his jaw pop. Whatever it is, if his medical studies have taught him anything, it’s not supposed to be doing that.

He forces himself to breathe deeply for a moment, to calm down enough to present his case. He straightens his shoulders, attempting to dredge up his composure and dignity in the wreck of some of his finest clothes and bare feet, “Alright, sailing then. Whatever the case is, you’ve made a poor decision bringing my brother and I along. There are some things you should know.”

“Oh?” the Captain raises an eyebrow again.

“First, my brother does not speak English. He’s hardly of any use to you if he can’t understand orders. Second, neither of us has experience in labor jobs like this,” he leaves out Gilbert’s experience in the military, not to mention surgery wasn’t exactly easy, “I was studying medicine when you brought me here, neither of us has any knowledge of ropes or knots or anything. I had never even seen the ocean before moving to London. Neither of us even knows how to swim!”

His voice grows more confident as he speaks, and the Captain nods along, seemingly thoughtful. When he’s done, chest heaving in rhythm with the rocking of the boat, the Captain smiles at him again. “That was a nice speech,” the condescension practically drips from his tongue.

They stare at each other for a moment, Captain Nicholls waiting for reality to settle on Ludwig’s shoulders. Each second the weight gets heavier. Ludwig’s frown deepens.

Deep breaths. Ludwig closes his eyes, “If this wasn’t an accident,” calm, “and you don’t believe me when I explain how useless we are to you,” Ludwig’s cold blue eyes settle on Captain Nicholls again, “what do you want with us then?”

The Captain leans in closer, “Glad you asked!” He grins, showing off his tobacco stained teeth.

“You see,” as he speaks he fiddles with a cane leaning against the desk, “I know you don’t have any skill at sailing. That’s fine. That’s not why we brought you here. You have other skills that are even more valuable on a voyage like this, especially since the doctor I usually hire has passed, god bless his soul.”

He grasps desperately at the last loose thread, “What do you mean ‘doctor’? I’m not a doctor. I’m still just a student, you cannot seriously expect me to act as the ship’s doctor.”

The only response is an eyeroll, “Well I definitely didn’t bring you here because you’re a musical prodigy, lad. You look like a practical guy. Think about it. My ship needs a doctor, but we couldn’t find one in time. Until my first mate ran into you at a pub the night before we set off. Real unfortunate you become so gullible after an extra drink or two, but that’s not my fault.”

The Captain’s demeanor is relaxed and self-assured. Completely and one hundred percent content with the fact of Ludwig being trapped. Convinced absolutely of his security in this situation. Ludwig can do nothing as Captain Nicholls leans back in his chair, and hammers in the final nail, “You’re not going anywhere, lad.”

Ludwig steps back, forgetting the room around him as the feeling of helplessness grows. Unaware, he stumbles underneath the chandelier. A drop of hot wax hits his ear, but the feeling barely registers in his mind. Where the burning warmth hits his skin, he sinks into an icy resignation.

“Oh don’t look so down, it's not all bad,” the man continues, “the ship’s doctor is a very important position. You’ll be exempted from a lot of the grunt work around here. You even get your own cabin. Most of the other crew don’t have luxuries like that.”

“What about my brother?” a second drop of wax hits his foot, “He’s still not of use to you. He deserves to be let go,” another spike of heat hits his arm. His fists clench. It’s his last bargaining chip, but if it means his brother doesn’t have to go through this, then it's worth it.

“I’ll stay willingly if you agree to take my brother back.”

The Captain plants his cane firmly on the wooden floor, groaning as he stands up from his chair. A bit of tobacco spills out of the pipe still clenched in his right hand as he leans against the desk to regain his balance. Ludwig briefly contemplates offering him his arm for support. But only briefly.

Thump thump thump he makes his way around the desk until the sound of his cane is muffled by the carpet. There is nothing physically between them now.

Up close, he can see the wrinkles set deep in the man’s face. There are liver spots peppering his cheeks and neck. His eyes are even lighter than Ludwig’s, so washed out and pale they look silver, and he’s almost two heads shorter than the blond. He reminds Ludwig of a Moorente. The ones he and his brother used to hunt in Hagenburg.

“Perhaps you are right,” it sounds like the Captain is about to agree with him, but at this point Ludwig knows to stay on guard. “Your brother really is pretty useless to me, huh?” he jokes.

Ludwig fights hard to keep a neutral face.

“But you should think carefully about what you’re asking of me, lad,” his eyes are as cold and cruel as sharpened steel. He speaks slowly, “It's not of any use to me to return him to London either. We’ve been underway for half a day already, I won’t turn the ship around just for you two.”

Ludwig frowns openly now. “I won’t make this easy for you. You want me to treat your men, but I don’t have to. You can hold me here, but if you don’t let my brother go, there’s nothing you can force me to do for you,” his voice is firm.

All he gets is a smile. The warm light of the candles reflects a harsh contrast in the Captain’s eyes. “You forget that I’m Captain on this ship. I give the orders here. It’s your job to follow them. Maybe you’re valuable enough to get away with disobeying, but you’ve already acknowledged yourself that your brother is not, and if he’s really as useless as you say, why should I keep an extra mouth to feed from my scarce holds when there are plenty of hungry fish he could serve better?”

He, no, he couldn’t — all the air leaves Ludwig’s lungs in a rush. He’s never been punched so hard before.

He could, he would, he thinks despairingly.

And who would ever even know out here? Who would ever even believe me?

A sickening grin stretches across the Captain’s face. Ludwig isn’t known for emoting, but given the right circumstances even his thoughts can be easy to read, and the Captain is clearly entertained by it.

The threat hangs heavy in the air between them, as they stand suspended above water, as the water is held up by the Earth. It is an immutable fact of the universe that Ludwig loves his brother, and so there is nothing else he can say. There is nothing he can do but concede. This battle isn’t worth winning at that cost. It never would be.

“I…” the resignation chokes him. He swallows, “I understand.”

“Is that any way to address your Captain, Ludwig?” he can see the man’s stained teeth again.

The Captain wants him to feel the humiliation in every possible way.

Ludwig spitefully lifts his chin instead. “I understand, sir,” he says, but he makes sure to look down at Captain Nicholls as much as possible. He thinks Gilbert would be proud.

As he storms out of the room, he takes pleasure in the drops of hot wax he watched fall on the Captain’s own silk waistcoat and trousers.

I hope they burn.

~Historical Notes~ *while medical schools did exist at the time, its actually much more likely Ludwig would have been trained through an apprenticeship with a doctor instead. Going to a special school wasn’t really required, and you could also start much younger.

*You were more likely to be press-ganged by the navy, but it wasn't unheard of for merchant vessels or even pirates (foreshadowing) to do this, especially when it came to valuable jobs. Surgeons and carpenters (who acted as surgeons if the ship didn't have an actual surgeon) were some of the most important people in a crew.

~Translations~

L - "Wie lange bist du hier?" -> How long have you been here?

L- "Wie spät ist es?" -> What time is it?

G- "Sie haben meine Uniform geklaut" -> They stole my uniform

L- "Wer?" -> Who?

G- "Ich weiß nicht. Sie könnte geklaut worden sein bevor wir hierher geschleppt wurden oder danach. Sie könnte schon über Bord geworfen worden sein! Ich weiss nur, dass ich praktisch nackt aufgewacht bin und niemand mir sagen wollte, was Sie mit meiner Uniform gemacht haben!” -> I don't know. It could have been stolen before or after we were dragged here. It could've been tossed overboard already! All I know is, I woke up practically naked and nobody would tell me what they did with my clothes!"

L- "Dann?" -> Then?

G- "Wie sieht es aus, Ludwig? Dann haben sie mich an die Arbeit gesetzt. Du bist Arzt, du bist schlauerer als das, Bruder.” -> What does it look like, Ludwig? Then they put me to work. You're a doctor, you are smarter than that, brother.

L- "Medizinstudent meinst du" -> Medical student, you mean

and lastly G- "Ihre Mutter fickt Esel" -> Your mother fucks donkeys

Thanks for reading C:

#gerame #hws germany #hws prussia #hetalia fanfiction #my writing #I'm gonna get better at writing action I swear #Alfred should show up in the next chapter #tw: kidnapping #sorta #not really but also definitely #its finally happeniiiiiing #tw murder threats #if you remember awhile ago I had that poll about dialogue in other languages #in hetalia fics #well that was for this #hopefully its not too difficult to tell what's going on since I left Lud's thoughts in english

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igotanidea · 7 months

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Stuck: Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader

A/N: seriously, I almost titled this chapter "idiot" , XD (and that's also the spoiler alert XD)

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

***

One year ago

„When will you get those irrational thoughts out of your head Y/N?”

“What irrational thoughts?”

“About marriage out of love. No such thing exist in the world, my dear and if you do not start living in reality you shall become a spinster!”

“Mother!” Y/N’s eyes grew wide at the harsh and unjust words. She was still so young and to almost be called an old maid—

“Do not raise your voice young lady. You shall marry this season otherwise you would be putting our noble house in a very compromising position.”

“But-“

“Ah! Do not object your mother Y/N. You’ll do as I say. I know what’s best for you and you shall follow the lead. And that is precisely why you’ll accept when Lord Bridgerton proposes to you.”

“Lord Bridgerton!? Which one!?”

“The viscount, dear.” Her mother fluttered her fan imperiously. “Lord Anthony Bridgerton.”

“There is no possibility that I-“

“Hush!”

“Mother I –“

“You’ll say yes.” The tone of voice became much more commanding, leaving no space for discussion. It was like Y/N’s fate has already been decided.

“And why shall I? Because the viscount has decided he has enough pleasantries exchanged with modistes and actresses and other ladies free of the burden of the title. Because mighty Lord Bridgerton decided it is time to tie bounds with a young noble lady, who will be naïve and foolish enough to look at his antics without as much as a blink of an eye. Who will – dear lord – bear him an heir to the title and be the perfect little wife he would order around.”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” her mother raised from the chaise longue with cheeks flushed due to her daughter impertinence. “You will accept the proposal!”

“I will not!”

“Your father has already made the appropriate commitments!”

“Commitments!?”

“You shall be courted like a young lady should and get married in the fall.”

“Mother!”

“It has been decided. Now, you go and make yourself presentable. Lord Bridgerton has announced his visit in the afternoon.”

***

The visit was a disaster, to use the light words.

It was clear as day that neither Anthony nor Y/N were fully content with this arrangement and subconsciously tried to discourage the other. That way, when one of them would actually break it off, said one would be to blame for the disgrace, that would undeniably fall on both families.

However-

Despite some many character discrepancies they were both pertinacious and individualistic, ready to go the greatest length to have one’s own way. Neither of them was even thinking of surrendering easily.

Therefore, during his first appointment as a suitor Anthony was met with cold stares, minimum exchange of words and very noticeable distance on his future bride’s part.

Immediately matching the atmosphere and repaying in kind, only doubled in intensity.

Getting burned with the tea in response.

Causing a lot of havoc, many fake words of apologies and even more words of assurance that is must have been an unfortunate accident and he holds no grudge.

For obvious reason the time spend in L/N;s household was cut extremely short and Y/N was send to bed without supper to think about her erratic behavior.

Next few visits were no better.

Especially not the one when Anthony and Y/N were to reveal to a wide audience the nature of their acquaintance by strolling on the promenade, beaming with happiness due to their soon-to-be marriage.

“Dear lord, you are to be enthusiastic.” Anthony hissed in Y/N’s ear grabbing her arm with a bit more force than needed “Smile.”

She put on a fake grin when they were passing by some familiar face, but as soon as the woman was gone she turned to Anthony throwing daggers at him.

“Giving me orders already, Lord Bridgerton?”

“Hopefully you can be tempered if we start getting you used to it this early.”

“Oh! Perhaps it should be you to change the perspective my lord. See the real face of a lady you decided to meet at the altar?”

“And here I though your wonderful mother raised you better.”

“Do not dare speak of my mother the ill way!” she almost yelled, almost yanking her hand free from his grip, stopping the walk and challenging him to do something reckless.

“Forgive me.” He became serious in an instant and the words of apologies actually seemed honest. “You are right, I overstepped.”

“Thank you.” She responded with a deep sigh. God knows how much it took for her to stay calm. Regardless of the on-going conflict and differences in views between Y/N and her mother, the young woman would never let anyone offend her family. Not even Lord Bridgerton. And he should know that straight away.

“Perhaps we have started off the wrong foot, Lady Y/L/N.”

“I believe so. Seemingly we have a way to bring out the worst in each other, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Is that a way to tell me I have already seen you on your lowest behavior?”

“Compliments, Lord Bridgerton, you have endured my greatest efforts to cause you dispiritedness.” Despite herself she let out a chuckle.

“I am known for my endurance even in the least favorable circumstances.”

“I shall keep on my efforts, nonetheless.”

“I am deeply convinced that this will be the case”

***

Dearest gentle reader,

It has come to this writer’s attention that the affection between Viscount Bridgerton and young lady Y/L/N is in full bloom.

Despite the initial misunderstandings and noble behavior, that hasn't deceived any member of the ton, even if have been well played, recent news and observation has shown that maybe there's less pretending and more truth to it.

Much to the ton’s discombobulation, young pair has been seen laughing together while the viscount resorted to courting in the way that resemble his late father and Lady Violet Bridgerton manner.

This writer daresay that no elite member would have ever do as much as dream of Lord Anthony Bridgerton picking meadow flowers for his chosen one while walking in the fields, away from prying eyes. Neither anyone would ever think about the forever dreamer lady Y/l/n actually so close to fulfilling her dream of marrying out of love. Irrational thoughts, as someone may put.

It is yet to be decided whether the on-going courtship between lord Bridgerton and lady Y/L/N will be a source of impending scandal in the society or whether those two will actually succeed in keeping this lovable atmosphere for following years.

After all – real love is not easily found and even less easily kept once the obstacles arise.

***

Now.

“You are to be enthusiastic.” Anthony murmured taking Y/N;s arm and bowing to the passing nobles “Smile.”

Those words brought back some memories and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of the history that was in fact repeating itself.

“What is so funny?”

“Your memory does seem so be failing my lord. Won’t you remember the last situation when you told me to express my happiness and contentment to the ton?”

“I—” Anthony cut off, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh.

“Seem like you do after all.”

“Y/N…”

“Been a while since I had to pretend I was content though, given the fact that I truly was, of late.” The hint of sadness and melancholy was not to miss and did not make it easier for Anthony to pursue on the apologies he was tirelessly pursuing.

“Y/N…”

“Good job on choosing the right name since the person, whose hand you are now holding for display seem to be too much for you, my lord. To say the full truth I am fairly surprised you chased me here instead of focusing on spending time with one of your-“

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”

“Oh, I shall not, god forbid. I shall keep the pretenses as any lady married into a good family will.” She send the brightest smile to some kids that were running around, preached by their parents, holding her walls up.

At this point, mockery and distancing herself from the entire unfortunate events, if not fight, was the only way to prevent the emotional and mental breakdown and falling into tears. She was hurt. She was deeply hurt on a level she never thought existed. Anthony’s behavior hit precisely in all the sensitive spots, leaving her overthinking and wailing inside. Reminding her of all the years in her family’s household, being forced to act according to the standards, which she constantly broke, defying all the rules of ossified society and paying a heavy price for being herself despite the odds.

Being called too much, constantly.

Until she met Eloise, which was freeing. Y/N could finally feel like herself, spending a lot of time with Bridgertons.

And then meeting Anthony.

And actually creating a happy story with him, believing she would once and for all be free of the typecasting and tag putting.

But he started behaving in the same way to which she was exposed her entire life.

Too much.

Not enough.

And it made her angry.

“Please do forgive me for not easily being shaped in the wife you want me to be.”

“Shaped? I never wanted you any different!”

“Is that so?” she raised an eyebrow teasingly and it got her furious glance of her husband’s and the tightening bruising grip on her wrist. “you’re hurting me. Again.” The emphasis put on the last word actually made Anthony realize that he was not made of stone, but the words he wished to say were not coming easily.

“Y/N…” he clenched his jaw. She was mocking and challenging him even now, when he was trying to admit he was wrong and trying to apologize for the wrongdoings.

“Yes, my lord?” she took a step back, smiling in that light way that made him even more furious.

“I believe you wanted to spend time on an intellectual conversation with my sister. Forgive me-“ he bowed in a distant manner reserved for strangers rather than spouses “-for being as impertinent to interrupt ladies’ time. I shall withdraw and leave you to continue on your – surely important- exchange”

And with those words, much to the shock of not only Y/N, but also Benedict and Eloise, who were still following them, Anthony bowed again and started walking away, raising clouds of dust due to the speed with which he rushed off from the place where he left his beloved wife.

Feeling the weight of failure and heartbreak on his shoulders, without a single way to make up for his mistake and keeping the face of a viscount at the same time.

Convinced that she hated him and there was no way to regain her favor and affection.

next part (finale!) : Just right

@pietrawebster @chrissisheadisinclouds @fuzzym4m4 @gloomysel @urfavnoirette @dd122004dd @milkbummm @bevstofu @taniasethi @syraxnyra @christinabae @pandoraneverland @bevstofu @topguncultleader @jana-jaeynneee @myaa21212121 @ziarah @cat-lockwood @leaf-rose-thorn @elissanatok @lily3450 @nervousmumbling @budugu @frickin-bats @sillyfreakfanparty @amberpanda99 @nycthophiliaa @myaa21212121 @bananaadeleigate @everybodystaycalm @fmhcatt @sankareatheundead @cat-lockwood @1potato2rulethemall

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton angst

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januaryembrs · 2 months

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WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME? | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [10]

description: the one with Cat Adams + the one where she tells him.

length: 13k

warnings: literally just watch 11x11, mention of vomit, blood, alcoholism. mention of pregnant wives??

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

‘who’s afraid of little old me?

you should be,’

She remembered when she was little when she would wake up so early even the birds hadn’t uttered a morning chirp, her stomach grumbling because she usually hated the fancy stuff they had for dinner and ended up leaving it on her plate. She remembered thinking her mother would be no use, that Elizabeth would tell her to go straight back to bed, even if she whined and cried that she wanted breakfast, remembered thinking Louise, the au pair that usually took the morning shift, wouldn’t be in for another hour or so, and she certainly wasn’t tall enough to reach the cabinets yet.

Which left her with Emily.

Nineteen year old Emily, who was already in and out of the house with college, her hair a box dyed black, singed from all the crimping and hair spray. Emily, who liked to take her to the park even if she pretended she was too old, who played Barbies with her and helped her cut all their hair off probably because she figured that was better than her constant urge to do whacky things with her own locks. Emily, who had never wanted a little sister really until Elizabeth had brought home the carrier and suddenly she had never loved ten chubby fingers and toes so much.

She remembered waking Emily up, usually by pulling herself up onto her sister’s Mötley Crüe themed bedding and prodding at the girl’s shoulder until she stirred, how Emily would lead her down the long, ornate hallway into the kitchen, when the only sound in the house would be their bare feet padding along the cold tiles. How Emily would yank two bowls out of the cupboard, tipping a generous dose of coco pops in each of them, back when they were full of sugar and real chocolate, not the healthy crap they sold nowadays.

It would just be the two of them at the breakfast table, crunching on their spoons, five year old Bugsy no doubt dribbling the brown milk down her chin and pyjama top, but she was happy. Because she had her big sister.

She stared down at the dregs of cocoa that whirled into the white milk as the cereal sat there longer, because she was only picking at it really, and it had nothing to do with the fact she was almost certain they had changed the recipe since she was little.

“I was thinking,” She said after a moment or so, while Spencer pottered around the kitchen, fixing them both a pot of coffee that she usually was usually bouncing over to grab at this point in the morning. Except today she felt sluggish, lost in that maze of thoughts that only Spencer could really unpick, and the second she’d started speaking his head whipped over the counter to where she idly stirred her breakfast, “About what you said when Gideon… We could probably afford to start looking at buying a house soon, what with the mortgage rates dropping,”

She looked up at him hopefully, hoping he couldn’t sense the hesitation on her breath because he usually knew what she was thinking before she said anything, and for once she wished he didn’t have that crazy ability to read her mind, only to see him with a small if not saddened smile.

When Gideon had passed, Spencer had gotten in his head that they needed to leave the apartment, that if the Jason Gideon could have been caught unaware, then they weren’t safe either. Of course he hadn’t meant it, at least not entirely, but Gideon passing had spun the logic half of his brain that spouted the statistics that they were no more in danger now than they were before he’d gone, but still it was something he’d been thinking about. A house meant more space; more space meant they could stop tripping over each other's laundry, meant they could get the bigger shower they’d always talked about, maybe even a tub. A house meant the garden he knew he always wanted Niko and Sergio to have now they were grey around the whiskers and couldn’t run so fast.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Spencer said, picking up their mugs of steaming hot goodness and carefully stepping towards her, gently sliding the drink over to her as the liquid sloshed and threatened to dip over the edge, “Is there any place you want to look?”

He left his own mug in favour of circling his arms around her shoulders and pulling her in for a soft hug, her head falling beneath his chin where she sat on the barstool.

Kissing her hairline gently, she heard him inhale her shampoo scent, and she plonked her spoon back in the bowl to wrap her arms around his waist, squeezing herself into every crevice that they weren’t already touching.

“I don’t care,” She said, tilting her head to look up at him with love sick eyes, only to see him already besottedly gazing at her, and she guessed by the way his lips draw up at the corners that he didn’t realise he was still smiling, “Anywhere with you is good enough for me,”

He looked down at her in that way he usually did, expression soft and sweet and entranced, but she saw the traces of worry in his gaze, “You feeling okay? Today is going to be… hard,”

Bugsy’s expression faltered slightly, and she turned away to push her face into his stomach so he wouldn’t see the doubt lingering in her eyes. She nodded anyway, even though she knew he would catch her in the lie.

After Scratch, Hotch had ordered her to take three months off for a psych evaluation, had granted Spencer at least a month of holiday to watch over her because he knew Reid’s head would be all over the place with worry if he’d returned to work without her. It was like asking Garcia to leave her computers and fluffy pens at home; it just wouldn’t work.

By the time she was cleared to come back, despite the recurring nightmares of that day still eating away at her sleep, Hotch had set her up to work solely from the office, strictly no field work.

He liked to think it was for her own safety, for her own good since he saw the way she pounded coffee like it was juice while Spencer lingered around her with a worried stare. But if he had to be honest with himself, Hotch couldn’t get away from the things Scratch had made him see just as much as she couldn’t. He couldn’t escape seeing her throat slit like she was a lamb for slaughter, the life leaving her eyes as she faded away. And it was the thought of her carotid artery spraying over his boots that made him want to lock her up in bubble wrap and never let her go.

But that was feasible in their job, not really. So desk duty it was.

“You don’t have to go with us into the field, you can always stay with Hotch and Garcia,” He offered, stroking her hair behind her ear and tempting her to look back up at him with gentle fingertips under her chin, and when she saw the unease in the muddy hues, she squeezed him tighter, knowing the past five months had been just as hard on him.

“No, I want to,” She protested gently, her hands weaselling under his shirt and onto the warm, soft skin of his back, pawing at him like a cat trying to settle. “If you’re being made this woman’s number one target, I want to be there on stand by,”

And he couldn’t really argue. Because no matter what frame of mind he was in, even if it had been him captured and tortured, he would never let her go out as bait and not be there breathing down her neck.

He sighed, the urge to protest stuck in his throat and all he could think to do was bring his lips to hers gently in a soft kiss, because his resistance to her being put in the line of danger would only be futile.

She hummed into the kiss, his hands skirting over her back and she swore she would be content if the rest of her life was spent in Spencer’s arms, in the warm mornings at their kitchen table just the two of them, and the idea of that last part spun her stomach into turmoil all over again.

What if he freaked out? No, scratch that, he was definitely going to freak out. Spencer hated change, hated having things dropped on him, and Diana was already getting worse with the symptoms of Alzheimers she had begun presenting. He had more than enough on his plate as it was, and she knew she was the only thing that could keep his head from exploding with the worry, even if she was sometimes the cause of it. He’s always been a worrier, and part of her despised herself for the fact that he had shot out of bed every single night she’d been in the midst of a night terror, when the room spun and Peter Lewis seemed so real and so close and she woke up screaming. Because she’d brought him enough stress and trouble, and now she had an extra helping of it dished up and ready.

It wasn’t one of those things she could keep to herself, not even if she so desperately wanted to sit on it and mull it over for a few months. She needed to tell him soon.

Spencer looked down at her eyes, the way they’d glazed over slightly, and he wished he could crawl into the space where her thoughts bounced between one another if it meant he could figure out what had gotten her so twisted up the past few weeks. She hadn’t been herself entirely since Scratch, but she had been getting better. She’d started getting more sleep, seemed less jumpy when they were in the quiet of their apartment, and part of him thought maybe that was why she wanted to look at houses. A fresh start. And yet overnight, she’d had this guilty look in her eye like she was suddenly a million miles away, and he hated it. Bugsy had never been distant, which seemed odd to think considering she was burying her hands and face into him like she had no intention of letting him leave. But there was something in the depths of her brilliantly big mind that seemed to hold her tongue for her.

He kissed her again, hoping it was all in his head, hoping she wouldn’t keep things from him because it was them and they always told each other everything. Even if it was gross and weird and inappropriate, everything.

And he thought maybe it was because he was going on a date with another woman, using himself as live bait to flirt and charm and seduce an assassin in order to take her into custody without fuss. Yeah, that was probably it. He couldn’t say he would be all too pleased if it had been the other way around and he would be watching her ravish another man even if it was just for the job.

That was definitely it. There couldn’t be anything else.

“You know I love you,” He said as a statement, yet she nodded as though it was a question, and he kissed her again because he’d regretted not doing it a hundred times a day the second he’d seen her in that closet, regretted not seeing the fact she was more than likely uncomfortable with her boyfriend of two years wining and dining a murderer. “Whatever I say when I’m there with her, you know I love you, more than I could ever love anything else,”

He seemed so sincere, his eyes turning into that soft puppy like frown, and it only served to drive the knife in deeper as she nodded, her hands wrapping into his hair and pulling him down to kiss her again, this time just a little harder like his lips could wipe away the pit in her stomach. Because it was Spencer, and she was lying by omission, and god did she need him to know how much she loved him before things went wrong and they changed and-

“We have a little time right?” She said, his hands taking the hint as they pulled her to her feet gently, cereal long forgotten in a chocolate slush, and his hands reached down to cup her ass in the way he was more than used to doing now. Didn’t stop him from blushing however.

“Y-yeah we have time,” He said, and she barely let him finish his sentence before she’d claimed his mouth again, not that he was complaining. She looped her fingers through his belt buckle, stepping backwards with his guidance towards their bedroom, and he hummed through a moan when he felt her run the other hand through his already messy bedhead, tugging on the ends of his curls gently.

“Good,” She responded, with a drop of that natural Bugsy cheekiness he was used to, and the sound of it made him smile. Maybe it was just the job after all, “I think I need a demonstration on just how much you don’t mean whatever you need to say to her,”

He smirked, because she was more like herself than she had been in days, and god was she pretty when she smiled at him before they had sex, like she knew what was coming, like she knew what she did to him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear his heart thumping in her ears just as clearly as he could.

“I think you’ll need multiple demonstrations,” He said, his fingers looping in between her buttons on her trousers and popping them apart softly because they’d done this before, rushed it so they weren’t late for work, and ended up ripping good jeans, “Gather multiple sets of data before you draw a conclusion,”

He kissed down her neck and her small laugh became a moan, “I think it’s pretty much the only way, Doctor Reid,”

He laughed, and she felt it against her pulse, the sound of it making her shiver as he shoved the door open with little remorse for the way it slammed into the wall. And she made a promise to herself that once they’d caught their UnSub, she would tell him, even if it meant all of this would change.

–

He arrived at the restaurant five minutes early, his suit steamed and neat, a single red rose in his hand. His skin was already crawling at the idea of flirting with another woman, but Spencer knew none of it was real, knew he was just doing his job. Still it didn’t diminish the desire to glance where Bugsy and Rossi were sat in a booth, because he’d seen her in that red dress a thousand times before, and yet it still made his jaw drop the second he saw her in it.

The brief had been black tie, something to fit in with the five star restaurant, and god had she delivered. He ought to have protested, told her that she was too distracting and maybe insisted she stayed in the office if she looked so striking, but then again she could have worn a bin bag for all he cared, he would still be fighting the urge to look over at her.

He chose the seat with Bugsy at his back as to eliminate his urge to stare at her, because Dave could keep her safe, the rest of his team could watch her, he had to trust that.

He lay the rose on the other side of the table, fiddling with the other parts of the cutlery to make sure everything looked perfect, even though in his mind he was thinking of all the things Bugsy would have been saying if she was his date tonight. She probably would have made a comment on his suit (she already had before they’d even stepped out the hotel, just as he’d given her arse a quick squeeze with cheeks even more crimson than her dress because she looked divine), probably would have offered to go to the in-and-out down the street instead because she never cared about splashing out on dates, just being with him was enough.

Adjusting his jacket a little, he waited, trying to keep his head far away from his girlfriend, although that was much easier said than done. He couldn’t remember what his brain was like before it was filled with thoughts of her.

The ring sat in his sock drawer, buried in one of his older pairs that he hoped she wouldn’t go after since he’d made the mistake of putting it in with his boxers and almost got caught within a day when she went to steal some ready for bed and he’d chided himself for the sloppy work. He knew he wanted to ask her, thought he might even bring her to a fancy place like this, maybe prepare a small speech that attempted to tell her how much she meant to him even though he knew there wasn’t enough words for such a thing. Would he hide it in the cake? No that would be cheesy, she found cheesy overdone. Would she even like it done in public? No, she would hate that, he would wait until they got home, maybe even try that thing she’d wanted to do in bed for a few weeks, and then when they were done-

“Spencer?” A woman appeared at the table, a woman who by all accounts was objectively pretty, yet he felt that small kick of victory when he recognised her from the FBI database.

Cat Adams. Assassin. Mastermind. UnSub.

“Cat?” He said with practised naivety, and this time he forced all thoughts of his loving girlfriend from his head like they were about to be tainted by the woman standing in front of him, “Hi,”

“Hi,” She replied, her grin too bright and sparkly for anyone to ever guess she was a killer though he supposed that was the point,

“Hello, it’s nice to finally-” He cut himself off when she leaned up to hug him, her face drawing closer to his suddenly and she looked like she was gearing up for a peck on the lips. Forward. Much more forward than he’d given her credit for, and his stomach flipped in discomfort as he leaned away, “Oh s-sorry, I have kind of a germ thing,” He excused, which wasn’t a total lie.

Also my girlfriend is sat ten feet away and I can already hear her clenching a fork ready to ball your eyes out like a melon, he wanted to say, though he kept his snark to himself.

“Oh, sorry,” Cat said, holding her hands up in surrender, and looking up at him with what he knew to be false innocence. But he played along, because the sooner they caught her, the sooner he could be done with the entire thing.

“I’m kinda weird with hugs,” He explained, his face boyish as he gestured her to take a seat, because at least then he could put some distance between them, “Please, sit down,”

She smiled dizzily, slipping her jacket off to reveal a blue dress that accentuated her pixie short hair, her collar bones that could cut glass, her small, sleek figure, and she adjusted her straps as an excuse to divert his attention to her breasts.

“That’s like the oldest trick in the book, get some new material, bitch,” Bugsy mumbled under her breath, drowning her venom in sparkling apple juice disguised as champagne from where they sat in a dark corner booth and Rossi chuckled, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t worry about boy genius having a wandering eye, kid. Reid is more devout than my mother on Easter Sunday,” He said, picking at the starter they’d ordered as a way to seem busy. She hummed, diverting her attention into her chicken salad, making sure she wasn’t looking at the happy couple for too long as they talked awkwardly, “Do you think you could take her?”

“I know I could take her,” Bugsy responded in a clipped tone, and Rossi sniggered, and they heard Tara and Derek do the same down their earpieces.

“It was a joke,” Cat said, to something they hadn’t quite caught, though by the looks of it they were still just making small talk, “A bad joke,”

“No, no, it was funny,” Spencer said reassuringly, and he chuckled, though Bugsy knew off the bat it was fake because she loved making him laugh and it sounded nothing like that. They fell into an awkward silence and she could hear Spencer scrambling for things to talk about because if she walked away their lead to the other assassin went right with her.

“Can we start over? Hi, I’m Cat,” The woman said, fixing her skirt with a shy smile. She certainly didn’t seem like a killer, Bugsy thought, where she glanced at her in her peripheral. She certainly was pretty, spritely even. A little too eager to kiss a guy she just met.

“Hi, I’m Spencer,” He replied, in that nervous tone he usually got when she flustered him.

“Is it true you have three PHDs?” Cat asked with, well, cat-like eyes flicking between sly and seductive, and Bugsy could see how any man who wasn’t as smart as her boyfriend would fall for the act.

“Yes, that’s true. I do have three PHDs,”

“What’s your favourite book you read last year?” She pressed and Bugsy sipped her juice to stop herself from answering for him.

“I’ve honestly never read a book I haven’t loved,” He said, deflecting the subject, while his girlfriend smirked into her almost empty plate.

Demons by Fydor Dostoevsky, she corrected to herself because she knew he’d gone back to it more than a handful of times.

“Tell me about your wife,” Cat went in for the kill, her timid smile morphing into something wicked as she watched Spencer squirm.

And the second she’d said it something had reared its ugly head inside him. Because try as hard as he might, all he could think about was Bugsy’s face and that damn ring.

“If you don’t mind, I’d er…” He cleared his throat, wondering why it was so difficult to get through a single conversation when they’d ran through the plan a million times. He knew she would ask, and yet all he could do was get defensive thinking about Cat damn Adams setting her hands on the woman he wanted desperately to marry, “I’d rather not talk about her,”

“Might as well get it out in the open right? I mean, it’s why we’re here,” She said smugly, like that innocent bounce in her step had wiped right away, revealing the murderess underneath, “How long have you been married?”

“Four years,” He lied, though he thought back to JJ’s wedding that same amount of time ago and how beautiful she looked in her dress and her cast and how he’d wished it was theirs.

“When is she due to give birth?” Cat’s eyes narrowed at the man, pushing her hair behind her ear in a playful manner.

Bugsy stopped, licking her lips and hoping Rossi wasn’t watching her as she finished off the last of her sparkling juice, raising a hand to a passing waiter to order a second round.

“You having another one, Grandpa?” She said innocently, despite the stink eye he gave her and nodding to the non-alcoholic beer he’d ordered.

“Watch yourself,” He said as the waiter retreated, and she snickered into her meal, “Grandpa will knock you on your ass,”

“You would never, Hotch would hate that kind of paperwork,” She said setting her cutlery on the side of her plate to signal she was done, “HR would have a field day,”

“I wanna hear you say it,” The line crackled in their ear as Bugsy’s drink arrived at the table, and she couldn’t help but think the woman’s seductive voice could easily pass for a call girl. She chanced a quick look over at their table, her heart rate spiking when she saw the woman all but eye fucking Spencer with a bit of her lip, like the thrill of the chase was half the fun for her, and Bugsy felt the disgust settle in her stomach.

“To have her killed,” Spence replied, and she looked away then, the bitterness settling on her bottom lip in a sneer. She didn’t think for one second that Spencer would think the woman was alluring, it didn’t make him flirting any easier to watch.

The UnSub smiled wryly, looking down at his arm, “Let me see your ring,”

Spencer froze, holding his hand out hesitantly, the feeling of the gold band entirely alien on his finger even though he was trying to get used to it for the sake of the case. Cat’s hand shot out like a snake striking, holding his ring in between her perfectly manicured fingers, her eyes roving over the jewel.

“You know what that is?” She said with contempt, shaking her head, “A noose, only it doesn't kill you all at once it kills you slowly, day by day,”

And he couldn’t have disagreed more, in fact the only thing that was killing him was the fact he had been dumb enough to wait so long to propose to the woman he loved more than life itself.

Spencer Reid, dumb and in love.

“You ever feel that way?” She said, ripping him out of his thoughts, and he nodded wordlessly, sighing for effect.

“I feel that way all the time” Except his every day was spent wondering just how he ever got so lucky, how he managed to fall in love with the same woman who gave him apple cake when he couldn’t remember the last real meal he’d had because he was three months deep in an opioid addiction and having her look at him like he hung the damn cosmos.

“Take it off,” She ordered, and Spencer tried flashing her a surprised if not charmed smile, though his hackles were slightly raised, “As a sign of your commitment. To me,”

He bit his cheek, knowing better than to argue back if he was playing the part of the down beaten husband, and began twisting the gold ring off his wedding finger, handing it over to her expectant palm.

“If she sticks to the pattern, she’ll take him to a secondary location and then kill him.” JJ observed, sipping on her mocktail in her own fancy, ruffled dress, shooting Tara and Derek a look where they played the part of a sweet couple on a date.

“I’d like to see the bitch try,” Bugsy said through a wide fake smile, her face showing no symptoms of anger except the flash of teeth.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’re not letting it get that far,” Rossi added, and the two of them clinked their drinks together in a ringing chink, “Hotch, do you two have a visual?”

Penelope confirmed with a few taps of her keyboard, and Hotch nodded as Spencer confirmed with a small flick of his eyes he could hear the feed, ”Alright, all agents stand by. Dr Reid will give the green light, don’t move until we have it,”

“Twenty four carats?” Cat asked, twisting the ring in between her fingers with a smug grin like she already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Spencer replied, looking down at the band and back up the soulless dark hues of the black widow woman.

“Twenty four k times… four years. Means this ring should be dinged and nicked, but,” She huffed, reaching into her purse under the table, and Bugsy damn near spat out her juice when she heard a gun load through the mic, “This sucker is brand new. You’re not married.”

“What was that, was that what I think it was?” Penelope’s stressed tone rushed through the ear piece, and the sound of it plus the smell of the chicken she’d just eaten made Bugsy’s stomach turn again.

Except this time she felt it coming up into her throat, the same way she’d found herself feeling queasy for a few days. Spencer had thought she had a stomach bug, had tried to get her to stay home with some mint tea, but this was more than the last few times. It was like her anxiety clenched her gut in a tight grip and twisted painfully, and she lurched forward, slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Kid?” Rossi said, his brows frowning at the expression on her face, and she immediately began untucking her napkin from her chest.

She needed to make it to the bathroom now, hoped on everything that the sudden movement didn’t distract where Cat held a gun to Spencer’s midriff beneath the table.

“What is she doing?” Morgan hissed into the mic, while Hotch and Penelope began barking protests.

“Oh, good lord, Bug, stay down, you don’t know what that psycho is going to do!” Penelope squealed, watching Bugsy rush out of the booth seat, a hand firmly over her lips, and Aaron brought a hand to his head, a splitting headache forming at the sight of the youngest agent rushing for the bathroom.

“Prentiss, what are you doing, you could blow your cover,” He snapped, though there was no anger there, and she could only switch her mic off for what was about to happen, knowing the team had much bigger things to worry about.

Bursting the doors open, she dived for the nearest stall and fell to her knees, head in the bowl before she could hock up her guts over the floor, and then came a horrid retching sound.

Spencer’s eyes widened at the table, hearing his team yelling out orders at the one person he couldn’t keep track of, and it took everything in him not to turn in his seat to investigate for himself what happened for her to flee the safety of the table, or go after her even. Because even if he wanted to, even if he needed nothing more than to make sure she was okay, he couldn’t move an inch. Not with the gun being pointed at all of his important organs by the experienced killer with a smile.

“Do you know why I’m so good at my job?” Cat asked in a sweet tone, her eyes cold and calculating as she cocked the gun beneath the seat.

“Because you kill without compunction or remorse,” Spencer bit, the flirty look in his expression long gone the second he’d heard the rest of his team calling for his girlfriend. He needed to keep his head, Bugsy was safe so long as she was far away from the woman pointing the gun at him. Having the weapon aiming for him he could deal with.

“That only gets a girl so far in life,” Cat agreed with a nod, her jaw setting in a hard clench, “No, it’s because I think through every possible outcome and then I plan accordingly,”

And Bugsy’s stomach seized hearing her voice so cold and viscous, and she would give anything to hear her partner flirting with that bitch of a woman if it meant she knew he was safe. She emptied her stomach again right as she heard their UnSub speak once more.

“You see, I didn’t walk into your trap. You walked into mine,”

And with that Bugsy gave another hurl.

–

“Spencer, why did you take time off from the FBI?” Cat insisted, her voice nails on a chalkboard, and he felt the apathy on his face flick into slight annoyance.

Bugsy. Because Bugsy had been ill, because she hadn’t been sleeping, because she hadn’t been herself for a few months, because his mom had gotten worse, because they needed him.

Spencer would take the bullet before he ever told her about Bugsy, because he knew for a woman who loved male attention, telling her about the girl he loved most in the world would only draw a big target on her back, and he would never dare to put her at risk. Never again.

Not a single hair on her head, he’d promised. Not even a scratch.

“You can ask me as many times as you want but I’m still not going to tell you,” He snipped, making sure to keep his face expressionless if he really wanted to sell the deal that she was a nobody to him.

Her mouth tightened in frustration, “Then you’re cheating, and I don’t like cheaters,”

“You don’t get everything you want just because you’re pointing a gun at me under the table.” He stated blankly, his team waiting on bated breath to see if they needed to send in their back up since JJ’s cover had already been blown. “You’re not the first killer to point a gun at me, you’re not even the first woman to point a gun at me. Sorry.”

Cat’s smile shifted into something akin to a snarl, and she leaned forward on her elbows, and Spencer matched her challenge with cool ease. “You’re really gonna take this all the way, aren’t you?”

And Spencer smiled wryly, because her composure was collapsing beneath her, “Yeah,”

“So am I,”

“Dave, go,” Hotch ordered, and Rossi drew his gun beneath a napkin, shuffling to his feet, “Prentiss, where the hell are you?”

And she knew she was wasting time, but her stomach had picked the worst time to flip. Perhaps it was the anxiety, or the pressure of a gun being pointed at her love, or maybe it was bad chicken. Either way her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, her legs weak where she’d crouched on the floor, and she chided herself for not being able to pull it together when Spencer needed her.

And as if her nerves weren’t rattled enough, she heard Spencer’s mic mute out, and she knew then that the time for sticking her head in the bowl and screaming at herself to get up was over. Spencer was in trouble. Two of their agents' cover was blown. With Tara and Derek sitting the opposite end of the restaurant, he was alone if Cat Adams decided to pull that trigger.

Spitting the rancid taste from her mouth into the toilet, she reached up for the flush, wiping her mouth with a handful of toilet paper.

“Hotch,” She tuned in, and she heard the sighs of relief as he and Penelope seemed to both ease slightly at hearing her voice, “I’m back, how’s Rossi?”

“His cover’s blown, he’s heading out to find JJ,” Hotch responded, his heart rate in his throat the second he’d heard her sound through. He knew it would be unfair if he pulled her from field work for another three months, but the second she’d disappeared from their screens, he’d already began thinking of the excuse he could give if it meant he knew she was kept out of harm’s way, “Where are you, are you hurt?”

“No, no, just,” She cleared her throat, leaving the stall and heading for the sinks, “Bad chicken I guess,”

Taking a handful of cold water up to her mouth, she swilled the liquid around to try freshen herself up, sputtering it back into the sink and running the back of her hand over her lips.

“Do you need to get out of there?” Hotch asked, the concern thick in his tone, almost as clear as it was on his brow as he leaned in to Penelope’s monitor, “Lewis and Morgan have got eyes-”

“No, I’m not leaving him out there,” She protested, leaning over the sink with an exhausted huff, “I can’t head back to the table, she’ll know I was with Rossi,”

And as if she had spoken a plea to the universe, one of the waitresses waltzed through the bathroom door carrying glass cleaner and a bunch of fresh toilet paper under her arm, smiling sweetly at Bugsy who seemed like any other patron of their restaurant.

Her eyes snapped over the girl’s body, figuring she was about the same size, perhaps a tiny bit bigger than herself, she almost audibly heard the click of the idea and before she knew it she had reached out to grab the girl’s attention.

She just hoped it worked, because otherwise the scolding she was going to receive from Hotch wouldn’t be worth it in the slightest.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna penalise you by adding ten minutes because I actually did learn something important.” Cat said with a smirk, her finger flicking over the clock on his phone as she prolonged the countdown, and Spencer squirmed where she shuffled closer to him, close enough that their knees were touching and he could feel where the toe of her heels were teasingly stroking up his calf, like threatening him and his team for information was getting her off. He felt filthy, like he’d need a dozen showers before he fell into his girlfriend’s arms, and part of him considered skipping the whole dinner and speech, asking her the second he saw her again if she would be his wife.

Because this, having another woman so close, was making him sick.

“Oh really? What’s that?” He snapped, his patience wearing thin as his lips pressed in a straight line.

“Your back up, I flushed them out,” She replied with a smirk, looking around the room with an arrogance Spencer wished he could wipe right off of her face, “It’s just me and you now,”

“Hi, how are we all doing this wonderful evening?” A chirpy voice came from the end of the table, slamming two menus down between them hard enough that their attention snapped to her immediately. Spencer felt his eyes morph into horror, though he fought hard to hide it, as he saw a familiar face, the same one that had been running through his mind since, well, forever. Her red dress was gone, replaced with a maroon shirt and a black pencil skirt, her hair tied back in a neat bun and she had a pen pushed behind her ear for good measure as she smiled at them tightly.

Bugsy had really done it this time.

“My name is Emily and I’ll be your waitress. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

–

“Prentiss, what in god’s name have you done?” Hotch barked, as she waltzed behind the bar, ignoring the looks from the barman that clearly had never seen her working there before.

“I’m making sure Spencer has back up if she decides to get trigger happy,” She bit back, snagging a pitcher of water from the fridge and two crystalline glasses, placing them on an upturned tray.

“And what happens if she gets trigger happy towards the waitress that won’t leave them alone?” Morgan snipped, shooting her a look where their table faced the long, walnut coloured bar that wrapped around the back of the establishment.

“Well then, I guess we pray there’s a doctor in the house that isn't Spencer,” She huffed, plastering a fake smile on her lips, and carefully shuffling the tray onto her palm, “You’re going to have to take me out yourselves if you think I’m leaving him there alone,”

And they huffed, Hotch running a hand through his hair. Because they knew she wasn’t kidding. God help the man who tried to stop Bugsy when she had her mind to something.

And with that resounding silence, she listened to Spencer’s mic, hoping to catch a foot in to the conversation.

“You should have seen right through me the moment you walked in, but you didn’t,” He said, and she didn’t need to take a glance at Cat’s face to know she was getting more than riled up. Why was she here? What happened to staying with Rossi where it was safe? It was her first day back in the field, what was she doing? He didn’t think he’d ever been so angry, though he knew if he scratched the surface of the feeling he’d find it was fear. And unfortunately for the woman sat opposite him, he’d stopped pulling his punches because of it. “You couldn’t. Because you can’t get to the man you really want to hurt, so you need to hurt every man who reminds you of him,”

Cat’s face flashed with what he could have sworn was hurt, before her eyes steeled back over and she shrugged nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t hit straight home, “That’s kind of boiler plate psychology, isn’t it? I’m just another girl with daddy issues,”

“You’d be surprised how many killers do what they do because of their parents,” He snapped back, because he couldn’t dare take his eyes from their UnSub, no matter how desperately his gut told him to check on Bugsy. “If it’s so boilerplate, let's test that theory. How hard did you look for him?”

Her mouth screwed up in bitterness, “Very hard,”

“And how disappointed were you when you realised you will never find him?” Spencer drove the knife in deeper, watching Cat’s resolve fade under his hateful stare, “You needed some other outlet for your rage and for a while this worked, but it also tripped you up,”

And Bugsy stopped, because Spencer always had a way of saying the exact right thing that made her brain tick into genius, like everything about him made her the best version of herself even if he didn’t mean to. That was what tripped her up. Her father.

“Hotch, it’s her dad,” She murmured, flashing a couple of customers an easy smile as she took the plates off their table, because Cat would catch on way too fast if she seemed to be the only person not be doing a job, “That’s what she wants, that’s her endgame,”

And there was only a single second between them, before Hotch caught up to that wonderfully big brain of hers, “Serial killers with an endgame will do anything to get to them, even if it means taking themselves down with it,”

“Why would I make you sit here for thirty minutes?” Cat’s voice crawled down her ear piece as she burst through the kitchen doors, dumping the plates at the pot wash and looking to where JJ and Rossi were talking with the manager.

“Because you’re stalling,” Spencer said, though he didn’t have that usual tone that told her he was sure of himself, and she knew from the direction it was going that something was missing. They’d missed something, otherwise they’d have Cat in cuffs by now.

“Then you don’t know me at all,” She hissed back, and Bugsy shook her nerves out through her fingers, peeking at where they were sat through the thin glass pane on the door, “Do you think I would show up here without an escape plan. Or is that just what another girl with daddy issues would do? Maybe if you hadn’t fallen victim to your own gender bias, and yes all men have gender bias, even you Dr Reid, you would have recognized that your entire strategy was based on one faulty detail. Can you see it?”

Spencer paused, his frown shifting on his face, “You’re not here alone,”

“And my partner? Less paranoid than you think,” She said, and by the sounds of it the smirk was back on her face, and Bugsy fought the sneer twitching at her lips.

“You planted a bomb in the building,” Came Spencer's response, the grave realisation setting all three agents into motion. JJ’s head whirled to where their youngest stood by the door, her eyes widening at her partner’s words.

And for a second she wanted to beg Bugsy to take cover outside, to get out while she still could, because it had been a miracle the last time a building had exploded around her and she’d only broken a few bones. JJ didn’t think she could stand to grieve her for good, not the girl who had already gone through so much for them. All because they had missed it.

But she knew better, knew Bugsy would fight tooth and nail to stay if Spencer was still in the building. Knew that that argument would only be futile, a waste of time, because the Prentiss girl was not leaving.

“We’ll go check it out, you stay put,” JJ ordered, drawing her gun to her side as Rossi did the same and Bugsy nodded, “Don’t do anything stupid, don’t draw attention to yourself, Spencer knows what he’s doing,”

And Bugsy paused before she answered, choosing to give them a slow nod because she already had a good idea of what her next move would be, and it absolutely did not involve staying put.

Like hell she would stay put while he was there.

With that, JJ and Rossi turned on their heel to head for the stairs leading underneath the building, and Bugsy picked the tray back up, right as Lewis burst through the revolving doors, a serious look on her primped face.

“We need to evacuate,” Tara said, and Bugsy nodded, flicking a look behind her to where the rest of the kitchen seemed to be waiting on their order, because the second JJ had flashed the FBI badge, they had frozen.

“You get the customers out safely, I’m going to buy us some time,” Bugsy said, and Tara watched her slip through into the restaurant, the tray pressed against her stomach.

This was stupid. Stupider than she’d ever been, but her thoughts struggled to make sense whenever Spencer was in trouble. And it was like she saw the splash of his brains against the table, the same way she’d seen it in Lewis’s house all on the ceiling, like she could see now just what his organs would look like when Adams shot him however many time in the abdomen.

She couldn’t think like that. They would be okay, they would figure it out together, they always did. They always managed to put their heads together when they were in trouble.

Being in danger together seemed like a much better bet than having to watch the love of her life killed in the middle of this damn restaurant because she hadn’t done anything. She wanted to do everything with him for the rest of her sorry life, and if that meant sitting at the nozzle end of a pistol with him, then so be it.

She just hoped he would forgive her quickly.

“All we want to do is-” She heard Spencer begin, the other waiters filtering out of the kitchen with shaken looks on their faces, as they carefully slipped their patrons the bill that had already paid off, asking them to leave calmly and quietly.

“Minimise collateral damage, I get it, I’m not mad,” Cat snapped back, rolling her eyes, “It’ll give me the cover I need to slip out. I just need to know it’s clear, so do me a favour and tell your boss that nobody leaves until its safe for me to do so,”

Spencer chewed his tongue. He couldn’t let her leave, not when they had her so close, not when they were pursuing Penelope, not when they were so close to catching the woman responsible for so many kills.

Spencer hated losing, he hated knowing that she was about to get away because he had been too wrapped up in his overwhelming thoughts to figure out her plan, too busy fretting over the two women who meant the most to him to think ten steps ahead like he usually did.

He’d been sloppy, even though he knew he should cut himself some slack. His fiancee, girlfriend, had been tortured, his mother facing a different kind of terror in her mind altogether. He hadn’t been thinking about work, he’d been thinking of the house they were going to buy with the picket fence and the porch swing and the mortgage, and the damn ring-

“Well?” Cat’s goading voice ripped him out of his reverie, and he huffed in defeat, “Spencer?”

“You can leave,” He murmured, the agitation scratching at his skin because he was struggling to think of a final card to play. He was usually so good at games, usually won every single one of them. But his head couldn’t settle when Bugsy wasn’t near, when he couldn’t make sure she was safe.

Cat shuffled out of the side of the booth, her eyes flicking across the restaurant for her contact, and Spencer had barely opened his mouth in protest before he watched the UnSub walk straight into a waitress, a false smile slipping on her face as to not raise alarm.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was-” And yet his breath hitched when he spotted the hair he’d ran his fingers through just that morning yanked into a bun, the lips he could kiss for an entire lifetime curled in disdain, the body he worshipped refusing to move out of the way for the woman in a hurry.

And it seemed Cat only realised that the woman who had brought them water wasn’t a waitress at all, despite her plain face that had faded into the background, despite the fact Spencer hadn’t given her a second glance; Only when she heard a gun cocking behind the serving tray at her stomach did the fake smile drop from Cat Adams face.

Because she hadn’t flushed out Spencer’s back up. Not while Bugsy was still alive and breathing.

“Sit back down,” Bugsy growled, keeping her tone low but with enough bite that Cat’s eyes narrowed to hide the surprise.

“Well, well, seems I hadn’t planned for everything, I thought a pretty face like you would know better than to pull a gun on a woman with her finger on the big red button,” Cat said wryly, though Bugsy caught her eyeing up her chest as if to be checking for a bullet vest, “Move out the way, sweetheart. You don’t want this to get ugly,”

Spencer’s jaw flexed as he ground his teeth, though he kept his breathing even. What was she doing?

He didn’t care that he had no more power over her than anyone else on the team, he wanted to drag her out of the room himself if it meant she would stop throwing herself in the way of danger.

“Unfortunately, sweetheart, that’s not happening.” Bugsy snapped back, her expression melting into something rogue, something teasing as she leaned towards Cat with a challenge in her eyes. “You’re going to sit back down, and I’m going to show you exactly why you should have accounted for a pretty face like me,”

“You’re stalling,” Cat snickered, trying to push past the waitress, who wasn’t a waitress at all but an FBI agent, only for her hand to shoot out and grab her wrist, tossing the tray on the table.

Spencer felt his heart lurch into his throat as he saw both of them pull their guns to waist height, a blink and you’d miss it kind of movement, and it was like he’d seen the game set and matched then and there.

Bugsy wasn’t backing down. And neither was Cat.

“I make it a habit of knowing what kind of women are going on dates with my boyfriend,” Bugsy’s hand tightened around her wrist, watching the surprise flicker in the woman’s eyes, and she scoffed, “What? You really thought all that flirting and nervous glances were real?”

And the woman said nothing, her ego clearly a little hurt, though Bugsy was just sticking to the profile, and the profile said she revelled in male attention.

“Cat got your tongue?” Bugsy snipped through a grin, even if her chest was pounding at the feeling of the gun pointing at her abdomen, “Well, lucky for you I have a present for you. On the condition you sit back down and play my game,”

“You think I’m going to fall for that shit?” Cat seethed. It was one thing to outsmart a man, that was fair game, that was easy pickings for a woman like her. But a woman, a woman who seemed to love playing with her food as much as she did. That was different, “What is it, a reduced sentence? The good TV in my two by four cell? You can keep dreaming, I don’t want your worthless promises,”

“I’d hardly call your daddy dearest worthless,” Bugsy mused, and she watched Cat’s expression falter, “A dead beat drunk maybe, but worthless? A little harsh considering you waited so long to meet him,”

Cat paused, eyes flicking over the woman’s face for any signs of a lie, “You have my father?”

And Bugsy smirked, “Do I look like I’m bluffing?” But her face was set in stone, and Cat hated to admit she seemed too confident to be lying, “Why don’t you make this a little easier for everyone and sit back down. I’m not done with you yet,”

The murderess scowled, her shoulders straightening as she ripped her wrist out of Bugsy’s grip and retreated back to the booth.

And it was only then that Bugsy looked at Spencer, his eyes wide in a horrid mix of terror and rage, and it was a sight she swore she never wanted directed at her again. But she couldn’t leave him, he had to understand that. Because if all the bets were off, if all the cards were dealt, she knew he would need to be dragged screaming from the building before he left her to deal with a hostile UnSub alone.

And Spencer knew that too, of course he knew that. Yet it didn’t diminish the sickening worry bubbling up in his chest as the women sat down at the table, and their game had a playing field.

“So, I take it this is the darling wife you wanted killed,” Cat sneered, and Spencer didn’t dare take his eyes off the woman with the gun, even if Bugsy did have one pointed right back at her, “I don’t blame you, I’d want to be rid of her too,”

And they both knew it was a dig, a stab in the interest of getting them both riled up. But it wouldn’t go far. Because despite the anger Spencer felt dwindling in his chest, he always worked better with her. Like a puzzle piece in the tangle of his mind had clicked into place, and suddenly they were a team again, and she seemed more like herself than she had in months, an ease about the way she leaned back in the plush seat despite the fact her finger was resting on the trigger.

“Have you ever played Cat’s cradle?” Bugsy asked her, knocking her knee against his as if she’d heard his thoughts. They were together in this. Together. Even if the building went up in flames and bullets and the plan went to shit. Just the two of them, the way they’d always been.

And he felt himself ease back too, something akin to security shifting over him. They always were safer together.

Cat’s eyebrows raised as Bugsy dodged her comment, “What, do you want to braid my hair like sixth graders, too? What about it?”

Bugsy shrugged, reaching over with her free hand to the glass of water she’d set down for the two of them, “The way I see it, Cat, you have got those little paws caught in yarn and are scrambling to get out of it,” She chuckled, taking a quick sip, “Now, if we were to let you go, you’d end up walking out of here scot free, and who knows, might even blow up the whole building anyway. But, if we help you out of this little tangle you’ve got us all in, then maybe we cut a deal that doesn’t involve all of us going out in a ball of flames and champagne. Sounds good right?”

The woman’s lips pursed tightly, her head tilting in annoyance, “Alright. Get on with it, no one likes a show off. How did you find my father?”

Bugsy smirked, “Well that was pretty easy once you have access to the files we have. We traced your birth record to a Daniel Adams, who did in fact leave the country in 1987 but returned in 2012. Based on confidential records in rehabs and sober living houses, which in turn pointed us to flophouses and soup kitchens.”

The brunette’s eye twitched, like the girl had just spat in her face, which was what it felt like, and she felt the taste of her own medicine was just as sour as she’d always presumed.

“He couldn’t put twenty four hours together sober, sweetheart,” Bugsy summarised, shrugging her shoulders as if it was no big deal to her, just another bum on the street, “You can probably imagine our surprise to find that he lives here in DC,”

“Where?” Cat hissed, and Bugsy snickered, shaking her head and taking another sip of her water.

“I’m an agent, not a miracle worker. It wasn’t that simple,” She replied, boredly tracing her finger over the restaurants emblem they had printed on the napkin, “I found him on the street, showed him your picture and said I’d like to ask him some questions about his darling daughter,”

Cat’s lip pulled down in annoyance, her matt red lipstick smudging with her pout, “And?”

And perhaps Bugsy was being cruel. Perhaps she was playing into the profile that indicated Cat needed someone to match her wit and zeal if she was going to listen. Men, she could squash like bugs. Bugsy, ironically, not so much.

Perhaps she was thinking about how she’d reached into Spencer's pants to retrieve his gun, and wanted some of what she was saying to hurt.

“He didn’t even know he had a daughter,” Bugsy said simply, with a small shrug of her shoulders, and she watched the woman’s onyx brown eyes glisten with unshed tears as the realisation crashed on her, "Didn't really seem to care,"

“He-he didn’t remember me?” Cat asked, the tease that had been there half an hour ago wiped clear from her tone, and Bugsy shook her head.

“Nope,” She said, popping the last syllable, “Alcoholism really rocks your brain. Sorry, honey,”

Adams scoffed, shaking her head with venom, “You’re not sorry. Sorry is what people say when they don’t understand,”

And Bugsy’s brows raised, a bitter empathy flicking in her gaze. Quick, but not so quick that Cat didn’t catch it, and she shuffled in her seat.

“Oh,” Their UnSub paused, the trodden down look on her face rekindling with interest, “But you understand, don’t you? What, does your father like a good beer or ten, princess?”

Bugsy snickered emptily, “Ofcourse I understand,” She said, leaning over the table to hold the woman’s glare, because like hell would she back down just because Cat was treading on home ground, “I haven’t spoken to my father in five years. He picked the hot wife and holidays to Aruba over his little girl and he thought a new pony or two would make up for all the times he forgot Christmas. I can’t even remember the last time he sent me a birthday card on time, and yeah he was a bit of a mean bastard once he'd had a whiskey,” She shook her head with contempt, and she felt Spencer knock his knee against hers gently, but she only watched the viper woman with careful eyes. And to her shock, Cat seemed like she understood her, like she had some kind of respect for her telling the truth. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m very good at making sure old guys like that get what’s coming to them. Or is that just what another girl with daddy issues would do?”

Cat’s face seemed to shrivel in frustration when she heard her words repeated back to her, “Is that really why you came here today? To help me?” And Bugsy tilted her head, knowing their UnSub was running out of time, that her window of opportunity was closing with the patrons of the restaurant getting antsy to leave. “Do you know how many men have told me they want to help me?”

Letting her expression smooth into empathy, she leaned forward, her tone dropping into a hushed murmur, “That may well be true, sweetheart, but from where I’m sitting, I’m not a man,”

And Cat paused, something like regret drifting over her face, before she spoke again, “Do you want to know how that worked out for them?”

And with that, JJ and Rossi watched the C4 charge’s switch to green, indicating their line was live and ready to blow.

“Hotch, she just armed the bomb,”

Bugsy’s expression dropped an inch, the sight of it making Cat’s lips curl into a cheshire smile.

“You’re not the only one with a loyal partner, honey,”

But the Prentiss woman was quick on her heels, watching Morgan and Tara rise from their place at another booth, heading towards a woman sitting at the bar on her phone, and she forced her lips together to stop herself from looking too smug to cause suspicion.

“It seems so,” Bugsy agreed with a nod, handing her gun off to Spencer beneath the table.

If he was confused, he didn’t show it, probably because he trusted that big brain of hers with everything in him, even if he was mad enough he could feel the annoyance oozing from his hot cheekbones. Yet to the rest of the restaurant, Cat Adams, included she hadn’t moved an inch.

“But, there is one thing I can guarantee about this partner of yours,” She said, leaning over to pour herself another glass of water casually.

Cat hummed in content, “Oh, right? What’s that?”

And Bugsy smirked, barely raising the glass to her lips as Morgan pounced on the Bomber, ripping the phone out of her hands and causing the patrons around her to yelp, “She’s sure as shit not as clever as me and my husband,”

Cat’s head whirlled around to see her partner’s face slamming into the hard wood of the bar, Tara yanking the cuffs from her belt, and she barely had time to flick back to the two agents facing her before a pitcher of ice cold water was thrown in her eyes, her thick mascara running down her cheeks and blurring her vision. Spencer dove over the table and grabbed her gun from her grasp as Bugsy ripped her out of the booth with rough hands.

She threw her to the ground in the few seconds she was disorientated, her hands tightening around her wrists as make shift cuffs, and she saw Spencer hurrying to grab the real things from his pockets.

“That was a cheap shot, you’re a cheater, you said you’d play fair,” Cat barked, her cheeks pressing against the rough carpet as the agents cuffed her, ignoring her protests and shoves.

“Honey, this is me playing fair,” Bugsy snapped with a cruel smirk, “You threatened my friends, you stuck your hand in my boyfriend’s pants, and pointed a gun at him. Believe me I could have done so much worse,”

And with that Cat Adams was hauled off the ground by the two of them, as they led her out to the police van waiting outside the restaurant.

–

The doors pulled open, empty, and Cat’s face dropped, because her only silver lining on the entire outcome had been that she’d be able to meet the dead beat dad that ran out on her.

That agent’s face had been so genuine as she’d said it. It had seemed so real, and yet…

“You lied to me,” She said as Bugsy set her down on the bench, Spencer pulling another set of handcuffs from his belt and the two of them looked up at her, her lashes lining with disappointment.

“If it helps, we really did try to look for him.” Spencer said, his tone blunt because she had a crazed look in her eye he didn’t like one bit the second she stared at his girlfriend.

And even though she was the one in chains, heading for prison for a twenty year sentence at the minimum, she laughed. Cackled.

“It doesn't matter anyway, I still won,” She said, that venomous gaze turning to Spencer because she had learned atleast two thing in the time she’d been sat with the two agents that ruined her life.

One. Spencer’s mother had Alzheimers, that he hadn’t been lying about. That she was sure was too real to be a story he’d pulled out his ass.

Two. The girl wasn’t phased by insults or bites or cruel words directed towards her. Yet when it was at Spencer…

“How do you figure that one?” Bugsy said, her brow furrowing as she shook her head at the woman.

“In ten years, Mommy dearest won’t remember anyone’s name,” Bugsy’s head shot up at that, her lips curling into a snarl, and she forced her fingertips into her palm to stop herself from throwing a slap at the woman’s face, “But I’ll remember yours,”

Bugsy daren’t react, no matter if her chest boiled in anger at the woman’s callous words. Spencer had to give that information up, give a small bit of his soft underbelly to get the woman to trust him enough not to shoot.

And she couldn’t exactly blame him when he rose to his feet, darting out of the van with a clenched jaw, because the day had been an entire shit show, and she knew by the growl of annoyance he let out that their was a big conversation looming over her head, one she could only see ending in a fight.

It was just the two of them in the van, Cat entirely bound to her seat, and her painted lips had pulled into a grin the second he’d stormed off, her sleek eyes snapping to Bugsy who looked ready to slit her throat.

“Oh, come on Princess, it was tit for tat,” Cat shrugged as if she didn’t seem destroyed, “You took my dad from me, I guess I had to do the same for that hubby of yours,”

Bugsy looked down at her, swallowing her rage with a purse of her lips, feeling her breath rattle with unfiltered animosity.

“You’d make a shit profiler, for what it’s worth. What you profiled about him was all off,” She snarled, stepping away from the woman and looking down at her as if she was shit on the bottom of her shoe, “At least he’s going to make a better father than the bum who would rather sleep on concrete than know you,”

And with that she slammed the doors closed behind her, darting off on Spencer’s heel.

+1. The one where she tells him.

She saw his stress lines, the way the day’s events had weighed heavy on him. He sat on the sofa, his shoes thrown by the door after a tense drive home, and she'd found a space on the coffee table in front of him.

He was quiet, he had never been quiet with her, not in the years since they’d kissed that first time in her room. He wasn’t one for the silent treatment, she knew that much. Yet he was just that. Silent.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked, her voice that of a child as her brows scrunched together in worry. She felt the words bubbling in her throat, the thing she’d needed to tell him for a week gnawing at her tongue, crawling it’s way out, only she worried that after what she had done, he might just be ten times more annoyed at her throwing herself in the line of danger.

He stayed quiet for a moment, and she thought this might turn into their first real fight in the two and bit years they’d been together. Her skin went cold at the words that loomed over them, and she knew by the way he sighed alone he was pissed.

“You can’t do that,” He said, his voice a restrained bite, and he shook his head for good measure, “You can’t put yourself in the way of danger again, I can’t do that again, not after Scratch.”

Her throat closed up with tears, and she glanced at him, her fingers itching to take his warm hands in her own, her body begging to preen into him, have him kiss her and tell her he wasn’t mad, that he still loved her, that everything was okay. But he wouldn’t. Not because he didn’t feel any of that, of course he still loved her, but the wet that lined his lashes told her all she needed to know. That seeing what Scratch had done to her had scared him enough that even the idea of her coming close to a hostile UnSub with a loaded gun, that straying from the plan that was designed to keep everyone safe, had tipped him into a grey area that had him both wanting to hold her close and never let her go whilst yelling at her in that broken cadence to show her just how hurt he was.

“I’m sorry, I just-” She choked, her eyes becoming watery and pathetic and she hated crying during arguments, not wanting to look weak but that was exactly how she felt. Weak. Like she had no backbone to lean on because she knew she shouldn’t have intervened, but the snake-like woman undressing her boyfriend with her eyes while cocking a weapon at him had pushed her over the edge.

“Oh, you’re sorry, that makes it much better,” Spencer shook his head, furrowing his brows and it was only when he leaned forward that the salty hot tears dribbled down his cheek. “You- you can’t just do that, Bugsy, you know that right?”

She nodded, the words building in her trachea like word vomit, like she wanted to scream the confession at him that she should have given him the second she’d found out. “I know, I’m sorry,” She said again, her words entirely warbled with guilt because she’d never seen him so distraught, and she thought back to the horror that had spread on his face when she’d sat down.

“You can’t do that to me, sweetheart, do you understand?” His tone had shifted, something a little softer and he grabbed her hands tightly when her shoulders hunched together, and she leaned forward to try to hide her cries in her lap, sitting silently like a scolded child, “What were you thinking? You just got back into the field today, you could have been hurt, you could have gotten someone else hurt-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” She sniffled, her expression truly guilty, because everything he was saying was exactly true, she could have gotten him shot. “I didn’t think, I wasn’t thinking, I just was worried that…” She trailed off, her heart rate spiking when the words almost slipped from her tongue. She couldn’t tell him, not like this.

“What?” Spencer pressed, because he didn’t like the look of whatever had just passed over her face, and she shook her head in denial, “Bug, tell me,”

“No, I can’t,” Her breath clogged in her chest, coming out in a shaky rattle, and it was then that he leaned forward even more, trying to dip his head down to catch her eye, "Not like this,"

“Please tell me,” He begged, his eyes still stinging where another wave of tears threatened to burst at the seam when she shook her head again, her chin pressing down into her chest because he hated this. He hated arguing with her. “I’m sorry I yelled, I didn’t mean to, honey, I just got- worried.”

“I know,” She said quietly through another sniffle, rubbing her cheek on her shoulder to dry it, “I know, I’m sorry I didn’t think it through I just,” She took a deep breath, because she knew she needed to tell him, knew there was no more running from it.

He lifted a palm to her cheek, his thumb skirting under her eyelashes, and he forced himself together because he could never stand to see her cry, not when it was partially his fault, “What?”

“I just can’t do this without you,” She murmured, her heart in her throat, and it only made it difficult to swallow. She chanced a look at Spencer, his eyes wet and red and worried as she continued, “I can’t be the one to tell this kid their dad died because I didn’t do anything,”

“What..” He started, his brows immediately falling into a frown as he looked at her. She swore she could hear every single contraction of her heart muscles in her ears, the blood rushing through her veins making it sound like waves crashing on a shore right in her eardrum.

“It’s still fixable,” She jumped in, before he could say anything, like she needed to justify immediately what she’d said, or even just talk to fill the silence because she hated not knowing what he was thinking, “It’s only five weeks along, I still have time to… fix it-”

“Five weeks- you-you’re pregnant?” Spencer’s eyes were wide, with horror or shock she had no idea, nor did she want to find out judging by the way he had turned pale, reading between the lines, “W-What- fix it? Is that what you want to do?”

She stopped, because he seemed to be keeping a lid on his emotions, trying his hardest to sound calm and somehow that made it all the more worse. Because she would rather him get angry, or get frustrated and tell her this was too soon, or tell her there was no way he was ready to be a father, because at least then the pressure of it wasn’t on her back to decide for both of them.

But he would never, and she didn’t know why she’d ever second guessed him. He wasn’t yelling, or turning away, or leaving her the second things got tough, because it was Spencer. And Spencer would never. Spencer gave her the choice of what she wanted to do.

She stopped, her lungs suddenly feeling just that bit tighter, as she shrugged pitifully, and she thought this was perhaps not the most ideal way to tell someone you’re pregnant, “I-I don’t know, I think…” She stopped, because what did she think? She’d been so wrapped up in worrying about what Spencer would think, worrying about his mom and her nightmares and Cat God Damn Adams that she hadn’t even let herself entertain the thought of a little them.

But if she said she didn’t like the idea of a little boy with Spencer’s hair and glasses and smile, if she said she couldn’t see the photo album his mom had handed her full of pictures of their kids butt naked and watering the flower beds, she would be a liar.

“I think… it would take a lot of work, I mean it’s a baby for christ sakes, Bugsy, of course it’ll take work,” He nodded slowly as she chided herself, but she felt his hands tighten on hers, and the tiny gesture gave her the encouragement she needed. She took another breath, that boy with brown curls and her eyes in a jedi costume flashing through her head, “But.. I think having a mini you is everything I could have ever wished for,”

His lip quivered for a minute, and she worried she’d said the wrong thing. And then…

He smiled, wider than she’d ever seen him, like she could count every single one of his teeth, and she copied him despite the way a frog leapt into her throat, and she saw his eyes line with a fresh set of tears.

“Really, we’re really doing this?” Spencer asked, quietly, like someone could hear them, or perhaps he couldn’t believe himself even as he said it. He thought his chest was about to explode, thought his heart could never love someone so much as he loved her, thought it would never beat the same way again as it had before he’d been told he was going to have a baby with the woman he’d been in love with for nearly nine years. She nodded, her shy smile turning into something happy, maybe even excited as he pulled her in for an achingly sweet kiss, his hands cupping her cheeks as he kissed her lips over and over and over again, ignoring the salt that trapped in her skin, and he realised then he had started crying just as much as she had. Two wailing saps sitting in their living room, happier than they’d ever dreamed they were allowed to be. “I love you, I love you, I love you more than anything, I was so stupid, I’m so sorry I shouted-”

She chuckled, shaking her head, and drawing him back in for a long, silencing kiss, “I was stupid, very stupid.” Bugsy said, the weight lifting off her chest like a dumbbell had been moved, and she could breath again. Because Spencer kissed her like he wanted to merge their bodies into one, like he didn’t care for breath anymore as long as he had her lips on his, and she couldn’t help think if that was what he thought of her too, “No more being stupid from either of us. Kid’s got to have at least one smart parent,“

He smiled, enough joy in his eyes to make her think she was handing him the universe. And yet that was exactly how he felt. Like everything he dreamt of as a kid, when he was in his room wishing his dad had stayed because sometimes looking after his mom was tough on a twelve year old, or when he’d held Henry for the first time and thought maybe he wouldn’t be terrible at it by the time it was his turn.

He looked at Bugsy, the idea of their kid growing inside her, about the size of a petit pois pea at five weeks, and Spencer damn near felt like he’d won the lottery.

And all thoughts of Cat Adams were gone from both of their minds, the viper woman she wished she had gotten a good right hook to when she’d had the chance entirely unimportant now.

Because they were going to be a family, more so than they already were. And Bugsy felt as though she couldn’t love Spencer any more than she already did, but she could love his baby more than she’d ever thought possible.

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peachysunrize · 25 days

Text

[TANGERINE DREAMS]

Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

Warnings: none! Fluff, angst, tension! English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 5.4k+

A/n: so so sorry for the delay… unfortunately I’m gonna be awfully busy this week so the next chapter might be also delayed😭 buttttttt hopefully this chapter will make up for it! Reblogs & comments are always appreciated <3

Taglist: if you wanna be tagged in the future chapters, please fill this form with your username!

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Chapter 4: push & pull

“I’m hungry!”

“Shh!” You put your finger on Helaena’s lips to keep her quiet, “you ate all of our snacks! How are you still hungry?”

“I don’t knowwww,” she whines, dropping her head back on your lap as you resume the movie, “I need sweets!”

“It’s three in the morning, I doubt you want to wake up the entire house just to find a chocolate bar,” you thread your fingers through her soft and freshly showered silver hair.

“Babe,” she turns around, reaching for the control to pause the movie before she looks up at you, “why do you think we live in a mansion in the first place?”

“Because you have billions of money and have no idea what to do with it?” You ask, chuckling and rolling your eyes affectionately when she slaps your arm, “as if there is another reason behind it.”

“Of course there is!” She sits up, plopping a pillow next to yours as she sits shoulder to shoulder with you, “Aemond is an awfully light sleeper, so is Mum! Aegon would even sleep through… I don’t know, imagine Michael Jackson screaming in a mic and putting the amplifier next to his ear. Daeron is the best, heavy sleeper but his survival instinct would save him from anything. Me—“

“You don’t sleep at all,” she gawks at you before laughing, “What? You think I don’t know my best friend like the back of my hand? Or why we’re watching The Dance of Dragons trilogy at this god-awful hour? I’m offended!”

She pushes you playfully, “That’s not what I meant! You’re right, I don’t sleep much, but that’s not the point. I’m saying living in a mansion is quite cool because we put Mum and Aemond at the back of the building and chose our rooms afterward. So if you sneak into the kitchen…”

“I’m not gonna sneak there and shuffle around your cabinets like a fucking thief, Hel!”

“It’s literally your home too! You’ve been here a thousand times, no one would bat an eye if they catch you going through Aegon’s snacks!” She says, pouting a bit as she gives you her best puppy eyes, “One bag of his gummy bears, just one!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” you glare at her, scoffing immediately when she gives you her most precious smile.

“Yes, please?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” you hiss, “Besides, I have no clue which cabinet I should search for.”

“The one next to the stove—“

“Helaena!”

“Please please please, I will take a walk with you in the morning—“

“I’m not dumb, why should going on a walk with you be anywhere near interesting?” You ask, crossing your arms on your chest as you give her a pointing look.

“Because… because I can take you shopping! You know, Aegon will probably give a theme for his party so what better reason than to go on a girl’s date and buy some clothes?!”

“No, and no—“

“One bag, that’s all I’m asking!”

“Fine!” She squeals in joy, “but you will make it up to me, you giant twenty-seven-year-old kid. And shopping is the least you can do.”

“Okay, babe, whatever you want! I can even set you up with one of Aegon’s friends—“

“I'll take the walk, please! Keep those boys away from me,” You stand up from the bed, shaking your head before you slowly turn the doorknob, and before you step out, you look at her and shake your head when you see her lying on the bed with her hands under her chin.

You look at the empty hallway, checking to see if anyone is around or not before walking downstairs, tiptoeing to make sure you wake up no one. Gripping the stair bars, you relax a bit when the wooden stairs don’t make a loud cracking sound.

The path to the kitchen is quiet and empty, but with the numerous vases and other home decor Alicent has put around the house, it’s hard to move around without breaking something or making a loud noise. You have been here many times, but the paintings and various pieces they have will always surprise you; they are so beautiful, and you expect nothing less from the Targaryens.

You finally reach the kitchen, slowly making your way towards the stove to find the cabinet or a drawer — because only those are next to the stove — Helaena told you about. Pulling the first drawer out, you find nothing but forks and spoons, nothing near a good snack, unfortunately. The next one contains spices and herbs, arranged neatly in jars with labels.

“What are you doing here?”

“Fucking hell!” You scream and turn around, hand on your chest as you look at Aemond who is equally surprised to see you here at such an hour, “you scared the shit out of me!”

“Shh…” he approaches you slowly, reaching to take your hand in his to calm you down, “I’m sorry, I thought you heard me, or even saw me.”

“How could I see you? My back was to you!” You exhale shakily, letting him take your hands in his larger ones, slowly caressing your skin, “what are you doing here? Creeping on me like that?”

“I was in the kitchen when you walked in,” he says, his lips twisting in a small smirk as he sees your lips part in shock.

“How did I not see you?” You gawk at him, laughing breathlessly, “You’re a giraffe, tall as fuck and your hair shines like a flashlight! Were you hiding?”

“No, no,” he steps closer, chuckling lowly to not make so much sound, your hands still in his, “I was searching for a cutting board.”

“What?” You smile a bit, looking up at him as he towers over you, “I’m really curious now.”

“No, you’re just nosy,” he smirks when he sees you open your mouth to disagree, but you catch on his teasing tone quickly and bat his hands away.

“Asshole.”

“I’m kidding,” with a kiss on the back of your hand, he moves past you to put the cutting board on the kitchen island, “I missed dinner and couldn’t sleep either so…”

“You wanna cook dinner? Now?” you ask him, rounding the island to stand close to him, “You are crazy!”

“I’m hungry,” he groans, shaking his head as he moves to another cabinet and pulls out a pot to fill it with water.

“What is up with you Targaryens being hungry at such an hour?” You lean on the counter, watching him put the full pot on the stove, taking your time to look at him from head to toe.

He is wearing a loose black T-shirt, with gray sweatpants that stay low on his hip bones. His silver hair is clipped and his glasses are on the bridge of his nose — he looks so cozy and welcoming, and he most certainly glides across the room so effortlessly, pulling out different ingredients to chop.

“What did Hel want anyway?” He asks, pulling out an onion and placing it on the cutting board next to you, leaning just like you with his hips on the counter.

“How did you know she wanted something?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“I doubt you’d come and snoop around for Aegon.”

“Why not?” You raise an eyebrow at him, taking a step closer to him, “Maybe I was in his room, what then—“

“No,” he whispers, putting the knife down before he puts one hand on each side of your hips, the heel of his palm on the dip between where your thighs meet your hips and his fingers against the kitchen island — not gripping you fully, but enough to make you tremble slightly, especially with the way he looks at you, so raw and playful, “you wouldn’t allow him to make a single flirty comment, and you want me to believe that you just left his room?”

“What if I have changed my mind?” You look up at him through your lashes, voice barely above whispering, “Maybe I have fallen for his Targaryen charm?”

“The only Targaryen charm you’ll fall for is—”

“Babeee!” suddenly Helaena’s hushed whisper echoes in the kitchen

Your eyes widen and in the blink of an eye, you push Aemond away and move to the cabinet Helaena told you about earlier, trying to make yourself look busy while Aemond puts his palms on top of the island, leaning down a bit as he sighs, his face forming into a deep scowl as he watches his sister tiptoe into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, Aemy,” she waves at him, finally finding you crouched down next to the cabinet, “What’s taking you so long?”

“I couldn’t find the cabinet—” “It’s the one you are sitting in front of,” she says, smiling as she looks at her brother reaching for the knife, “and what are you doing here?”

“I was hungry,” he mutters, slicing the onion in half, “What do you want?”

“My promised gummy bears and a glass of water,” she shrugs and walks to grab her glass and you take the chance to stand up with her snack, standing side by side with Aemond, both of you following Helaena’s movements as she hums happily and fills her glass with water.

You glance at Aemond, catching him already looking at you with an unreadable expression that makes the hair on the back of your neck rise. Averting your eyes quickly, you watch Hel making her way to you before she gives you a quick hug.

“I’m going to bed, we will finish them another day.” “Sure, love,” you smile, “I’ll go to bed in a few minutes too, goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” Aemond says quietly, moving towards the boiling water on the stove before he drops uncooked spaghetti in it and walks back to the cutting board.

“What are you cooking?”

“Penne alla vodka,” he replies, smirking when you roll your eyes at him.

“Of course, typical classy Aemond,” you say, groaning a bit because of how tired you are, “your sister is a menace for keeping me up so long. I can’t even stand on my feet!”

“Then you don’t have to stand,” he says casually, wiping his hands with the cloth hanging from the waistband of his sweats. He moves closer to you, backing you up against the kitchen island with a teasing look in his good eye, his hands coming up to grip your waist and before you know it, he picks you up effortlessly and sits you on the island, his fingers digging into your flesh.

You swallow, bracing yourself by your hands on his chest as you look at Aemond, finding him standing closer to you between your legs, his eye focusing solely on your face — how your lips part with a quiet gasp falling from them, how your pupils are blown with something he can’t read quite well.

You are a vision to behold.

He leans closer, his face mere inches away from yours, his hot breath fanning against your face. You inhale sharply when he cranes his neck and his nose bumps into yours, his hooded eye hazy as he stares at you.

His grip tightens on your waist, and you feel his fingers caressing your back and the side of your tummy slowly, almost shyly, but with his lips only one breath, you know there is no shyness left within him, only determination.

As soon as he wants to lean down and capture your lips in a breathtaking kiss, the pasta in the oven is long overcooked and the boiling water pours out, making a loud hissing sound that makes Aemond break apart from you.

“Shit,” he groans, the warmth of his hand gone from your waist as he jogs to the stove and lifts the pot to empty the remaining water of the pasta, cursing himself in his head with how careless he acted — not only he nearly ruined your friendship but also his late dinner will taste like an uncooked dough.

“I-I think I should go to bed,” you stutter, jumping down from the island, smiling awkwardly at him, “goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” he watches you leave in a hurry, running a hand down his face — mindful of his glasses — he sighs loudly, “What the fuck was I thinking?”

If only he knew the answer to this.

“Okay kids, listen up!” Aegon claps his hands, stepping on top of the huge table in the guest wing’s living room, trying his best to give the four of you — six if you count Criston and Alicent — a very very pointed, dramatic and serious look, “tonight, we will drink!”

He points at Daeron and Aemond who are each holding two bottles of whatever drinks, or poison to put it better, Aegon has chosen to feed you tonight.

“Tonight, we will dance!” He points at Helaena who rolls her eyes and presses play on her phone so the music blasts through the amplifiers around the house but quickly pauses it so Aegon can talk.

“Annnnndddd!” He jumps down, striding towards you with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. He grabs you by your waist, twirls you around suddenly, and dips you down on his arm before he leans down, “We will have fun!” He leans to kiss you, but you put your palm on his face and push him away roughly, laughing out loud with him when you make a gagging sound.

“Get away from me you moron!”

“I’m sure my kisses would make you feel much better—”

“I rather die than have your tongue down my throat,” you stand behind Aemond, and when Aegon sees how hard his brother is glaring at him, he whistles and wiggles his eyebrows at the two of you — Aemond blushes horribly and you only give a tight-lipped awkward smile.

“Alright!” Alicent says, walking towards the table Aegon was standing up to fix the tablecloth, “I know you’ll take care of everything, but—” she looks at Aegon, “no drugs,” she then turns to Daeron and Helaena, “No sneaking out of the house,” then she looks at Aemond, “no goddamn books!” “I don’t even read that much,” Aemond sighs, putting the vanilla vodka bottles on the table before he crosses his arms, “I haven’t had the time to read even one book.” “I don’t care, Aemond. No books, no workshop, no merging with the darkness and sulking in a corner of this house. Okay?”

“Yes, Mum, I get it,” he agrees, turning around to glance at you, only for you to give him an encouraging smile.

“Now that we’re all settled,” Aegon reaches and throws his arm around Alicent’s shoulder, “take out dinner, obviously—”

“What do you mean ‘take out’? I didn’t hire a chef for you to say you’ll get our guests nasty food,” Alicent frees herself from Aegon, giving him one last look before she moves with Cole on toe towards the exit, “Also, the catering will be here soon, if you wanna help, you’ll need to wait a bit for them.” “Did you hear that?” Aegon asks, eyes wide and a very large grin finds its way on his face.

“Billionaires have such a hard life, I pity you guys,” You say sarcastically, “what’s up with these faces? You don’t like having a private chef?”

“Babe,” Helaena comes and grabs your hand, “This means Mum really wants us to party! She only gets this generous when she wants us to have fun.” “A private chef is a pretty great thing,” Aemond shrugs, grabbing yet another two bottles of vanilla vodka with a grimace on his face and putting them down next to the other two.

“No shit Sherlock! Of course, it’s amazing! Who wouldn’t want a fresh plate of ribs in the middle of a partially illegal party?” he chuckles at you, nodding at the catering that finally arrived, putting his warm palm on your waist.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I am always in charge of dinner because these three,” he points at his siblings, “get absolutely hammered and won’t be able to order takeout.”

“I knew Helaena would get drunk if she set her mind to it but Daeron?” you ask leaning closer to his side, looking up at him, and occasionally glancing at the other three siblings who are helping the catering staff with the food and drinks.

“He is a mixed… combination of all of us,” he chuckles, his nails digging into your waist as he scratches your skin under your shirt gently, lit the fire of the memory of a few hours ago you shared, “He doesn’t drink much but when he does… well, rest assured he gets as bad and loud as Aegon.”

“I’ve been here countless times but never seen him acting like an idiot,” you laugh, walking to grab the closest tray to help with the setting. Aemond does the same and follows you around the room quietly, making small talk with you until everything is set and ready for the party.

You and him walk forward, and for the first time he doesn’t guide you with his hand on your back, and you see how he is pondering hard about something.

“He wanted to really kiss you,” he whispers for only you to hear. You stop and a soft yet confused expression overtakes your face as you look at him, waiting for him to continue.

“What?” “Aegon,” he says, “he likes you, maybe he would have gotten away with it if you let him kiss you.”

“Aemond, don’t be ridiculous,” you grab his wrist gently, forcing him to stop, “I said it once, I’ll say it again; I don’t like Aegon romantically, and I would rather die than let him get close to my face.”

He doesn’t look too convinced, so with one glance at your back to see where your best friend and the rest of her siblings are, you hold his other hand in yours as well, “Besides, I would rather kiss another Targ—” “Go find some clothes, kids! It’s a white party!” Aegon announces, and Helaena suddenly appears out of nowhere and wraps her arms around you, making you let go of Aemond’s hands immediately.

“Come on, babe! Let’s go get ready!” you don’t have time to finish your sentence so with one last look at Aemond, you leave with Hel towards your rooms to get ready.

Aemond pulls shirt after shirt out of his closet, all of them are either black or dark green and those who are colorful are blue. Nothing. He can’t find anything to wear and it has started to annoy him.

He sits on the edge of his bed, his hair unruly and in need of a good brush but that can wait. His outfit on the other hand can’t, and the fact that Aegon’s guests will arrive in a few minutes is driving him crazy.

With a loud annoyed groan, he stands up and moves toward his hung clothes, searching through them, but again, all he can find is a pair of white sneakers that thankfully will go with any outfit he chooses.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he tries to think of any Shirts or pants he can find, but he is interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Hey,” you open the door a bit, smiling at him before slipping inside, but before you can stop yourself, your eyes roam over his topless figure leaning over the closet with his sweat hanging low on his hips.

Aemond is even worse than you; seeing you in a white sundress with sheer sleeves that hung low on your shoulders and the dress reaching your mid-thighs… he is speechless. His eye roams over your figure slowly, taking in the sight of you.

He can see how you get shy all of a sudden, caressing your arm as he literally looks you up and down.

“How do I look?” you ask, twirling to show the back of the dress as well.

“Wow,” breathtaking, gorgeous, mindblowing, earth-shattering, “Beautiful,” you make his heart nearly leap out of his chest, his cheeks turning pink as he gazes at you like a teen boy experiencing his first high school crush.

“Thank you!” you smile, rocking on your feet, “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Well,” he clears his throat, “I couldn’t find anything.”

“Bullshit!”

“Excuse me?” he asks hesitantly, watching you curiously as you make your way to his wardrobe, standing in front of him to search within his clothes yourself.

“You wore those white shorts to the winery, hmmm, let me see—” You pull out a white shirt with baggy pants, both enough to make him much taller than he is, but he has to agree that the simplicity might actually look great, “here you go! But let me brush your hair first!”

You sit him down on the bed, crawling behind him with a brush and a hair tie you found on his vanity desk before you start slowly combing through his soft hair, detangling and making it look more presentable.

He relaxes under your touch and lets you pull the front of his hair back and tie it so his face is shown more. He sighs and thanks you when you’re done, and to his surprise, you grab the shirt from him, forcing him to stand up to help him put it on, leaving the first few buttons undone before you do the rest slowly.

“Were you jealous?” You ask, letting your fingers brush over his pale chest, “When you saw Aegon wanted to kiss me?”

He swallows but as soon as you are done he pulls away and holds the pants up, signaling for you to leave so he can change, and you do but wait for him outside until he is ready.

“Maybe,” he says as you loop your arm through his, both of you walking toward the guest wing. You can already hear the blasting hip hop song Aegon is playing, the sounds of screaming and singing already filling the entire mansion.

“Really?” You ask quietly, letting go of his hand as soon as you reach the door, finding a few of Aegon’s friends around.

“I don’t know, I said maybe,” he moves away from you with one last smirk and enters the party. The smell of alcohol, cigarette, and smoke fills his lungs, and soon spots Daeron and Aegon mixing cocktails and handing them to the guests. Helaena is busy talking to an old friend of his, Cregan Stark, and she is all blushy and giggly while she sips on her drink — he makes a mental note to check up on her regularly.

“Here is our boyyyy!” One of Aegon’s friends screams and throws his arm around Aemond’s shoulders, shaking him as everyone erupts in joy and laughter, a shot of whiskey is thrusted into his hands and everyone is suddenly encouraging him to drown the drink in one go.

“Come on, Aemy! Don’t be a fucking pussy!” Aegon screams over the music, and with one final sigh, he brings the glass to his lips and empties the drink down his throat, making everyone around him scream and clap him on the back before they start shouting for another shot, which Daeron pours for him and as the first one, he drowns it again.

“That’s my fucking brother!” Aegon suddenly jumps onto an empty table, completely topless with two bottles of vodka in his hands as he screams and cheers for Aemond while holding the bottles up.

“He is so fucking insane!” Daeron shakes his head when Aegon starts rolling his hips to the music, his silver hair covered in sweat and possibly alcohol as he flexes his abs and chest for the girls.

“He is disgusting,” Aemond sighs, watching amusedly as Aegon jumps down and wraps his arms around two girls, moving to dance with them while their hands wander all over his body.

Aemond looks around and finds you and Helaena on the dance floor, clearly drunk out of your mind with how you are laughing and moving around. He drowns the rest of his drink before he sneaks out of the party, moving outside toward his workshop to clear his head, but before that, he goes back to the main building and grabs a bottle of water to sober up.

He finds Vhagar already waiting for him at the entrance, wiggling her tail when she notices Aemond. He crouches down to pet her softly, scratching behind her ears and kissing her furs before he stands up and moves to the backyard, his old lady following him quickly.

On their way to the workshop, they find Aegon and the two girls sneaking upstairs, making out with one while the other caresses his skin. Aemond rolls his eye in disgust as he moves past them, finding a pair of heels on the ground as she enters the small wood attached to their yard after where the Weirwood tree is.

He walks further inside the woods, following the path he once walked with you which leads to his workshop, Vhagar happily accompanies him there, even jogging and running past him numerous times to show her enthusiasm — she just loves being around him.

He notices a shadow in the workshop, moving around clumsily as it touches and picks different things up. He thinks it might be one of Aegon’s dumbass friends, wandering around their house drunk and exhausted. But how did someone, anyone find the key to unlock the door?

He opens the door, catching you of all the people snooping around his stuff, smiling when you find a pretty seven-pointed star keychain with Alicent’s name carved under it — he remembers when he made that. He was only seventeen, and he had moved past that amateur phase and got a grip on the woodwork and different types of it. What better way to celebrate his Mum’s birthday than gifting her something he made from scratch?

“Hey you,” he says slowly, not wanting to frighten you like he did this morning, “And what are you exactly doing here?”

“Look who’s here,” you turn around opening your arms, burping as you talk, showing how good Aegon’s cocktail must have been to get you this giddy, “sorry, Little nerd! I saw this really really pretty place and couldn’t help myself! Isn’t it strange that no one uses here? Urgh, what I would do to stay here.”

“Alright, darling, don’t pout,” he slowly reaches to grab your arm so you don’t trip over anything and fall down, “How did you get in here?”

“Did you just—” you gasp, letting him pull you to his side, “did you just call me darling?”

“Yes, I did,” he nods, keeping you secure on your feet before he offers you the water bottle, urging you to drink from it, “have this, clearly you need it more than I do.”

“What a gentleman! Thank you,” you say, taking a large sip after he helps you open the bottle, the cold water makes you feel slightly better so you drink the rest too, not sobering up completely but enough to remember where you are and who you are with and more importantly remember what you are doing.

“So, how did you get in here?” Aemond asks again, taking the empty bottle from you before tossing it for Vhagar, who happily claws at the plastic, jumping on it before she takes it outside to bury it somewhere — which Aemond would need to find later.

“Found a spare key under that vase,” you pointed at the vase outside his door on the floor, “You are not as slick as you think, Aemond, calling me darling and everything.”

“Do you want me to stop calling you that?” he asks playfully, watching you bite your lips in response, shaking your head slightly, “then I guess I won’t.”

You look around the workshop and find a wooden pallet with half a portrait carved on it. The lines are oddly familiar, a woman perhaps because of the details put in the jaw, and the hair looks so delicate and soft.

“Wow, Aemond…” You free yourself from his arms and move to take a closer look at the half-done wooden portrait, “Did you make this?”

“Yes…” he answers, rubbing the back of his neck in shame or perhaps anxiousness, because what if you recognize who the person is? All of his efforts will be in vain. What will you think of him? A boy with nothing better than observing women? A pervert?

“This is fascinating!” you keep looking at the wooden pallet but something catches your eye; a printed black and white picture of the person’s portrait, but before you can reach for it, Aemond grabs your forearm and pulls you away roughly.

You gasp as he pulls you between him and the desk the portrait and all of his stuff are on. His breathing is frantic, and his long fingers hold your forearm tight enough not to hurt you.

You look up at him, lips parted, a scene too familiar — this morning, so close to each other, one mingling breath away yet too far — but there is a fire burning within him, a newfound determination that makes his heart beat faster and his hands shake.

He is not a weak mean, quite the contrary, but when he looks down at you, catching how your gaze falls on his lips… he is no better than any other man.

He leans down a little, the sounds of the outside world fading away as he moves his face closer, and he notices how you slowly twist your arm out of his grasp, only to move them toward his chest, and he takes the sign and reaches to hold you by your waist, his nose bumping into yours as the distance between you decreases

You smell so sweet, like strawberry on a whipped cream once Aegon fed him when he was feeling down. It’s sweet but not too much to have him run away, to shy away from such a delicious taste. Will your lips taste the same if he musters the courage to just move down a bit and finds it by himself?

“Aemond…” One whisper of his name is all it takes for his restraint to shatter into a million pieces, and finally, finally, he leans down enough to capture your lips in a quick kiss. Both of you waiting for waited breath to see who will lean in, give in, and take what they want

Both, you both lean in, meeting each other halfway as your lips meet in a chaste messy kiss.

You taste so sweet just as he thought, but not just a strawberry tooth rooting sweet, no. you taste like a fresh cold morning breeze on a summer day, you feel like a cold shower after an exhausting day — so refreshing, so… so much like home. As if he has only found the solace he has been seeking with Alys for so long but something has always been amiss, but with you… oh, one kiss is enough for him to know how wrong he was.

You tangle your fingers through his hair, and he takes the chance to sit you on the desk, but by doing so, he knocks a little vase on the ground, and you freeze.

You pull away from the kiss, muttering his name but he doesn’t let you say anything before he seals his lips to yours in an endearing kiss. But you push him away by putting your hands on his chest, making enough room for you to talk.

“Aemond, we can’t—” “What do you mean we can’t?” He asks, panicking a little but you manage to ease his mind with a quick kiss, “What do you mean, darling?” He asks again, voice barely above whispering.

“I don’t want to be your rebound…” you pull him down enough so his forehead rests on yours, “I don’t want to be the person who you fuck just after you’ve been dumped.”

“You’re… you’re not that, you will never be that! Alys—“

“Alys… you’re still not over her, Little nerd,” you caress his cheek lovingly, pressing a gentle kiss on the apple of his cheek before you push him away and put a great distance between the two of you, and with teasr in your eyes you say one last sentence and leave.

“You still love Alys.”

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen angst #aemond fluff #aemond fanfic #aemond angst #hotd fanfic #🍊dreams

424 notes · View notes

leilanihours · 4 months

Text

# I LOVE TO LOVE

pairing: paige bueckers x wnba drafted!reader

word count: n/a bc this is a social media blurb 😋

warnings: none !

summary: you and paige find the wnba draft as a perfect opportunity to hard launch your relationship.

⭑ from lani: my first time making a social media thing on here so hopefully it looks good and makes sense 😓 also used madison beer as a face claim jus to make it a little more cohesive but picture whatever u want !

masterlist !

yourusername

liked by nyliberty, sabrina_i, bigellieliberty, and 702,364 more

yourusername big apple so sweet i couldn't leave...see you soon liberty 🗽

view all 59,891 comments

april 16, 2024

wnba our 8th overall pick will continue to wear #8 loud and proud, welcome to the w y/n!

↳ yourusername did i #8?

↳ paigebueckers partially. hope this helps! 💕

↳ yourusername get out :(

↳ paigebueckers im literally right next to u.

sophie.burrows_ switching to root for the liberty just for you as we speak

↳ yourusername my baby freshie ilysm 🥹🥹

nyliberty we ready for you. let's get this started 🗽

paigebueckers so proud of my girl 🤍

↳ yourusername love u so much. thanking you endlessly 🤍

↳ user01 MY GIRL???

↳ user05 PAUSE. ⏸️. REWIND. ⏪.

↳ user06 RUE. WHEN WAS THIS.

↳ user08 IM??? SOBBING??? IN??? THE??? CORNER???

↳ espnw wait

user02 LETS GOOO SHES STAYING HERE YALL YESS 🗽🗽🗽

user04 WHAT'S YOUR JERSEY NUMBER?? 🗣️🗣️🗣️

↳ cusewbb ATEEEE 🗣️🗣️🗣️

↳ yourusername ATEEEE 🗣️🗣️🗣️

bigellieliberty NEW YORK TURN UP I REPEAT NEW YORK TURN UP ‼️

↳ yourusername im your biggest fan pls notice me

↳ user03 help not y/n fangirling over liberty's mascot in her own comments PLS

sabrina_i welcome to the team, can't wait to guide you through this new chapter 🥹

↳ yourusername my soon-to-be league mom 🥹

wnba the vibe i wish i brought to the function

↳ cusewbb you get it

↳ user06 not syracuse being y/n's biggest fan LMAO we love to see it tho

yourusername

liked by paigebueckers, cusewbb, espnw, and 773,901 more

yourusername one more for the dress...and for my biggest supporter. my love. my rock. my day one. love u forever.

view all 86,044 comments

april 16, 2024

paigebueckers [pinned] i love you more than words can say. it's always gonna be you and me. 🤍

↳ yourusername always you and me. 🤍

user01 this is the cutest launch ive ever seen pls i cant

cusewbb bae locked in 🔐

↳ yourusername 🤞🤞

user07 OMG???? BOTH MY FAVS DATING????

user05 I KNEW YALL WAS GAY I KNEW IT

↳ user02 insane to speculate their sexuality like that but okay!

georgia.woolleyy my biggest flex is taking that picture of ygs and it being used in the launch 💪

↳ yourusername captain of the ship 🛥️🫡

kamoreaarnold OKAY SO BOOM MY FAV COUPLE MAKING THEIR INSTA DEBUT 🎉🎉

↳ nika.muhl DID THEY EAT YES OR NO

↳ paigebueckers YESS

↳ yourusername YES MAAM

paigebueckers

liked by yourusername, nika.muhl, caitlinclark22, and 637,977 others

paigebueckers showin up and out for my favorite person. feelin like a proud mom 🤍 🧑‍🧒

view all 48,970 comments

april 16, 2024

yourusername [pinned] love you love you love you love you x ♾️

↳ paigebueckers 🤍♾️

↳ user05 feeding us so good tn omfg

↳ user01 this is insanely gay i love it

yourusername w launch on both ends ☺️☺️

↳ paigebueckers you mean on my end 🤨 mine is sm better than yours

↳ yourusername hovering over the delete button as we speak 😐

↳ user08 my parents fighting already 😓

caitlinclark22 cuties for the w

↳ yourusername hi cc ilysm

↳ paigebueckers damn someone took my girl alr 😔

↳ caitlinclark22 excuse me.."someone"???

↳ paigebueckers mb what was ur name again?

↳ caitlinclark22 😐

↳ yourusername 😭

uconnwbb should we start forming an alliance..

↳ cusewbb perchance..

nika.muhl when the hard launch is hard launching 😋

↳ paigebueckers but whos is better

↳ yourusername get out of ur own comments this is borderline weird‼️

↳ yoursername also nika texted me privately and said mine was better 🤷‍♀️

↳ paigebueckers @ nika.muhl you traitor 😔💔

yourusername's story

— leilani signing off ! 📁

648 notes · View notes

bluesidez · 4 months

Text

GymRat!Miguel Part 9.1 | full chapter without breaks on AO3

content warning: lots of music links, ROADTRIP!!, some hurt/comfort at the beginning, a damn near comedy if I must say so myself, Spanish parts (if wrong, please correct me), lots of fluff, Buc-ee's shenanigans (I love that store), Miguel drives a Range Rover (hot, I know. Tyler got that MUNYUN), some jealous Miguel (MY FAVORITE), a hint of jealous reader 🫨 (she has a storm coming lol), simp Miguel if I'm being honest, 18+ so MNDI, male masturbation, wet wet fantasies, both reader and Miguel are h word for each other

word count: 7.1k, damn near proofread (this is only one part of the behemoth)

I did some research on MLE, yachts, superyachts, dolphins, and water activities for this chapter. 🤠 Hopefully, it shows! The yacht size I imagined is somewhere in between a regular yacht and a superyacht/megayacht. I built a Range Rover just for GR!Miguel you guys. (thanks to my irl besties and @slushycoookie once again 🥰)

Prev | Next (Part 9.2) ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who comes back home after nearly a week of bliss with you. He floated all the way home from dropping you off with Tyler’s people.

He made them wait much longer than they needed to when he decided to makeout with you next to the black Suburban.

Only a few more weeks before he could see you again.

GymRat!Miguel who is met with his mom sitting on the couch with just the tv glowing on her.

His steps were too heavy to sneak past her, so he just sighed and settled down on one of the plush chairs.

“I see you’re home,” she says. Her eyes don’t move from the Golden Girls episode playing softly.

“Sí, mamá.”

“How come you didn’t tell me where you went?”

“Gabriel told you where I was. I’m sure you asked him.” Miguel was tired already.

“He did, pero eso no fue lo que te pregunté.” (but that’s not what I asked you)

“Ma-”

“Mijo.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“And you’ve sat so far away. Like I’m going to hurt you. Miguel, I asked you to come home. You didn’t respond. You didn’t call. You didn’t even speak to me when you came back a few days ago.”

Miguel stared at her face, willing himself not to get emotional over this.

“I acknowledge that I should have let you know where I was. I didn’t talk to you because I didn’t want to say something I would regret.”

Conchata finally turned to look at Miguel. Her first-born. The life given to her after so much turmoil.

She could still see the little boy that would cry at the drop of a hat. She could still see the little boy that would dry up his tears if Gabriel started to cry with him, just to comfort him. The little boy with so much room in his heart.

She can see him now, face ridden with sadness. A face that she knew too well.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, mijo.”

“Well, you did. Again. I’m used to it. This isn’t a new feeling. What is new, is you acting like this towards someone else close to me.”

“I-”

“Let me finish, ma, please. You’ve never been a parent that cares about how I’ve felt in regards to anything. You have made decisions for me without a second thought without ever considering how I might feel. You’ve also never been the type of person who hurts someone else for no reason. I’m sorry I’m not with someone you picked, but I’m not sorry for loving her. She is everything to me. If I were to fall, there’s no doubt in my mind that she would be there to build me back up. She’d probably even break my fall if I couldn’t stop her.”

Miguel stopped to look up, willing himself not to cry.

“What you said to her brought something out that she hasn’t felt in a while. You broke her in a way that I promised myself I never would. I wanted to present her to my family in a positive light, to show her off. I didn’t expect you to be ecstatic about her, but I did hope that you could at least open your heart up once you met her.”

He looked off, tears escaping from his eyes. You’re in a better position now, but he won’t know if that donner will creep back up on you, making you hate yourself for something that’s not your fault. He remembered the pain in your voice, how kept it in until you were with him and away from the manor. He hated it.

“But instead, she was met with two people who paid her no respect. Two people that brought her turmoil. I expected Kron to be horrible, look at how he talked to you, but not you. You were supposed to be better. You didn’t see how much you hurt her, I did. It’s like we prepped for nothing but a shitshow and I should have followed my gut and kept her to myself a little longer.”

Miguel sniffed, wiping at his nose in hopes that it would stop the urge to cry.

Conchata let the silence rest. Nothing but the TV and her son’s sniffles filled the room.

“I’m sorry, Miguel.”

Miguel turned back. Shocked that she didn’t put up much of a fight.

“I just,” she paused. “There’s no excuse for how I treated her. She didn’t deserve it and if I could go back and change my behavior, I would. I think that I was just overwhelmed. Upset because my baby is growing up. He’s moving on and I can’t hold him in my hands anymore. I don’t tuck him in anymore. I don’t have to check under his bed for monsters. He doesn’t need me to do anything. So this shift is hurting me, mijo, and I took it out on the wrong people. For that, I’m so sorry.”

Conchata was a hard-cased woman. She stuck with her opinions, even if they were blatantly wrong. She was proud and vocal. She never let people see her crack or fall under pressure. So, seeing her like this, begging for Miguel to understand her, was a rare moment for Miguel.

“Ma, me growing up doesn’t stop me from being your son. I’m still here. I’ll still rely on you, but I want you to have a break too. You have to let me grow. I won’t live here forever, but that doesn’t mean I won’t come back to you. I’m glad you were able to express this to me, I just wish you could have said so sooner.”

“Lo siento, mijo.”

Miguel got up to get closer to her. He wrapped her up in his arms, too easy to forgive her. “It’s ok.”

He leans back and kisses her forehead, heart mending by the smallest of stitches. “You still have to apologize to my girlfriend, though.”

“I will when I see her again.”

“And we need to go to therapy.”

“George has already told me.”

“And I want you to make me some ceviche. And tamales.”

“Bueno.”

“And tres leches.”

She sighed, but squeezed him tighter. “Don’t curse in front of me again, and I’ll consider it.”

“Gracias, mamá.”

“De nada, mijo.”

GymRat!Miguel who goes to sleep with his body feeling a lot lighter. The weight of his relationship with his mom lifted a little off his shoulders.

GymRat!Miguel who has two grand master plans that he’s been setting out for months: eating you out and making your first time together special.

He’s been overthinking every detail like a maniac. The peaches from the fruit bowl have been disappearing to his room for research purposes only- and a snack of course.

He once ended up on the girl side of Tik Tok where they complain about everything guys get wrong when pleasuring them. He had been thoroughly reading the comments and taking notes here and there. He didn’t really need the tip about making noise though, he already does that just thinking about you. So many times has he had to stuff his mouth when jerking off.

He also had a few tabs open in incognito mode. That research is only done in the deep of the night.

Right now, he’s sitting at his desk reading some article about listening to your partner’s body and his mind can’t help but to wander off. Will you grip your thighs around him? He hopes so. He could die that way. Will you be vocal? Will you tell him if it’s too much? Will you guide his head and pull his hair?

That last question has him gripping his sweats in anticipation. No doubt when you scratched at his back in the hotel room, he was reeling from the sensation. It was like a reward for him whenever you feel so good, you’re too unaware of what you’re doing to him physically. Too lost in bliss to register the marks and pain you’re leaving on him. You just want him to give you more.

Miguel drops his pen and pushes the heel of his palm on his growing bulge.

“Fuck.” Every time about an hour or so into researching, his head is full of you. He imagines what it’ll be like to finally taste you, to be inside you.

He remembered how wet you got with just a little rubbing. Your body was so responsive to his movements and he couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if you guys upped the foreplay.

Miguel leaned back in his chair, arm over his head. He dropped his hand in his sweats hand gripping at the base of his erection, exhaling deep as he gave it a few pumps.

Your hands on his chest. Your arms around his neck. Your nails scraping his back. Your thighs wrapping around his waist. Your breath on his lips.

You opening up for him. You dripping down his fingers, down his legs, down his face. You screaming out his name loud enough for the entire neighborhood to file a complaint. You in whatever position he puts you in. He could hold you up. Maybe have your legs in the air or stretched out on the bed. He could have you grabbing for the sheets, the headboard, him. His head in your chest, in your pussy, in your ass.

Pre-cum spilled onto his stomach, rolling down his shaft. Would you let him go that far?

He doesn’t know what’s worse, the cold showers and teeth-marked arms at the beginning of the relationship or his constant daydreams of your body connecting with his that kept occurring regularly.

Maybe you felt the same way too. That was a new thought.

Do you wonder about your first time together? Were you just as excited as him? Do you get wet at the thought of him inside of you? Do you have to stop everything and find pleasure like he does? Were your fingers enough or did you need more?

Miguel continued to move his hand up and down, squeezing occasionally to mimic what you might feel like.

He’s groaning into his elbow, hips lifting from his desk chair.

He could almost hear your voice in his ear. Begging, praising, crying out, stuttering.

GymRat!Miguel who cums as Gabriel slams through the door. In a matter of 15 seconds, Miguel covers his drenched chest, shoves his sensitive dick back down, and grabs napkins to try to wipe away at his hand.

Nevermind his shirt is now ruined.

“What the fuck are you looking at and why is this picture showing a seductive pomegranate?��

“Why the fuck are you opening my door without knocking?”

“I did knock! I did our special knock plus a freestyle! I thought you were dead, Miguelito.”

Miguel’s heart felt a little tug despite its rapid tempo, “’M not dead, Gabri. Just busy. I didn’t hear you.”

Gabriel snickered when he got closer to look at his laptop. “I can see why. These tabs are a dead giveaway.”

Gabriel reached over to stare at Miguel’s notebook.

“These are some good tips! You shouldn’t expect her to taste like sweets, though.”

Nothing in his notes indicated that, but Miguel wanted to be offended for you anyway.

Miguel gave Gabriel a hard side eye, mouth set deeply down.

“I really wish you would get out of my room.”

“Oo, you should buy a rose. Dana loves that thing.”

“I don’t want to hear about whatever freaky shit you and Dana get up to, Gabriel.”

“You’ve caught me in more embarrassing situations, I’m just trying to lighten the mood! I also suggest those candy panties-”

“I’m not putting candy on- Gabriel. Can you please stop talking to me?”

“Miguel, this stuff is important!”

“¿Por qué eres así?” Miguel mumbled. “Ok, yeah. I get it. But you can chat to me about this after I’ve switched shirts.” (Why are you like this?)

“Fine, I’ll come back. Ten minutes. Then we must have a healthy chat about how to have fun safely.”

Gabriel skipped back to the door singing Candy loud enough to be heard as he went back to his own room.

“Strawberry! Raspberry! All those good things! Violets and gumdrops that’s what you’re saying to me, me, me.”

A black hole would be nice to save himself from this situation.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps out of his bed the day of the “Yacht Weekend.” Gabriel is dead set on calling it the “Yachty Pawty” and Miguel thinks that’s unbelievably stupid.

GymRat!Miguel who has to go and pull Gabriel out of his bed to get him to get ready, his body stretching like a ferret. He’s never been a morning person. It’s like his brain didn’t start computing until noon.

GymRat!Miguel who jogs around the neighborhood to kill time. The weather is a lot cooler in the morning plus it gives Gabriel time to come to reality. He waves to the son of one of his neighbors who gawks at him as he passes by.

Were his shorts giving away too much again? He didn’t feel a draft.

He looked down at his crotch. All good.

GymRat!Miguel who calls you while he stops to take a water break.

“Amor!” His voice is bright and his smile is radiant, watching as you squint at the screen.

Your cheek is squished against the pillow and you’re wrapped up in your covers.

“Hey, Miggy. It’s so bright there.”

Your voice was scratchy, a sign of how deep in sleep you were. You were so fucking cute.

“Are you running?”

He placed his phone on a nearby bench so he could stretch. “Yeah, I’m taking a break.”

He went into a deep lunge, stretching his body low to the ground.

You went quiet for so long, Miguel thought the call dropped.

“Baby? Did you go back to sleep?” Miguel asked.

“No, I’m still here. Those pants are,” you started to shuffle your phone. “Really short.”

“Really?” Miguel stood up and looked down at his pants. They did cut off high up his thighs, but they were good for running. Plus, he got hot easily, so he needed as much wind on his skin as possible. “They’re comfy.”

“Mm hm. Can you turn around for me?”

Miguel turned, confused but willing.

“Got it. Thank you, my muscle bear!”

“What did you just do?”

“Took pictures of your ass. It looks great. I’m gonna hold it real good later.”

Miguel laughed and grabbed his phone.

“Can I hold yours, too?” He wanted to do way more than hold it.

You smile sleepily at the camera. “I’ll think about it.”

GymRat!Miguel who lets you stay on the phone while he runs back to the house.

“You’re just going to hear the wind and me breathing for a few minutes.”

“And I’m fine with that! It’s like boyfriend ASMR. Peaceful.”

GymRat!Miguel who ruffles Gabriel’s hair when he gets back home. He’s staring at the wall and shoveling cereal in his mouth at the slowest pace known to man.

“Buenos días, hermanito!” (Good morning, little brother)

“Mm.”

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower to cool off for once and not because he’s having explicit thoughts of you.

GymRat!Miguel who chugs down a protein smoothie while he waits for Gabriel to come downstairs.

GymRat!Miguel who answers the door to Dana. She’s got some shades on and a purse with the same texture as a croc.

She peers over her shades. “You’re looking put together!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t play dumb. You’re trying to impress your girl! What do you have planned? A dinner on the horizon? A spa date? Oh! No! Another shopping spree?l

Yes. No, but he should arrange that. And absolutely not. He’s not Tyler.

“No,” Miguel squints. “But how can you tell?”

“You’re easy to read, big guy. Even when you think about her your eyes turn into hearts. When have you ever thought to wear a button down for a roadtrip to the beach?”

“Touche.”

“I’ll figure out what you’re up to. I have my ways.”

She twirls and runs up to Gabriel’s room, leaving a waft of strong perfume after her.

With that, Miguel knew it would be at least another 45 minutes before he could get on the road.

GymRat!Miguel who does his special knock on Gabriel’s door.

“I’m opening it, so you fiends better have your clothes on.”

He swung the door open to the disheveled couple. Dana with her hair astray and Gabriel breathing eerily hard.

“Seriously, guys? I need to go by the airport.”

“I was just waking him up!” Dana says with a voice that was much hoarser than it was an hour ago.

“Well,” Miguel put a hand on his hip in a way that anyone could tell he was Conchata O’Hara’s son. “Are you awake, Gabri?”

Gabriel’s face was as red as a tomato as he shook his head no.

Miguel pitched his voice higher to mimic his brother. “Ten minutes. And then we can have a conversation on time management and respect. Except it won’t be “safely” because I’m going to hurt you.”

GymRat!Miguel who finally backs out of the driveway in exactly ten minutes. Gabriel is rubbing his arm in the passenger seat with a pout on his face. Dana is grinning from ear to ear.

GymRat!Miguel who hands Gabriel the aux. He might be a silly boy, but his music taste is immaculate.

GymRat!Miguel who almost has to hurt Gabriel again when he doesn’t want to get out of the passenger seat.

“Why do I have to move?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not grounds for anything!”

Dana pokes her head over the console. “Gabie. Read the room. He wants to grip on to his girl while he drives with one hand. Show off.”

GymRat!Miguel who kisses you and grabs your bags at the same time when he sees you. The cars around are loud, honking sporadically. People are walking and running to catch cabs or get to their loved ones. Workers are trying to direct the traffic.

It all quiets down when he meets your eyes.

“Hola, mi amor.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him close. “Hello to you too, my love.”

You smile up until he presses his lips against yours. More and more pecks follow after that.

He holds his nose to yours, completely enraptured by your presence.

“Oh my god, let’s go!” Gabriel shouts from the car, pressing his palm against the steering wheel.

“You’re not the one driving, pinche pendejo!”

You giggle and stand on your tippy toes to try and see over Miguel’s shoulder. You’re still too short so you lean sideways. Miguel melts.

“Just a few more and we’ll be done Gabriel!”

“Fine. For you, I’ll let it slide.”

You stand back up straight and kiss Miguel a little more.

GymRat!Miguel who does reach over and grip your thigh. If Gabriella and Troy weren’t in the back belting, he’d hike his hand up further.

“Right now I can hardly breathe!” Gabriel pivots his head towards Dana dramatically, water bottle a faux mic.

“Oh! You can do it, just know that I believe.” Dana is touching his chest dramatically.

“Are they always like this?” You ask, laughing a little at their antics.

Miguel groans in annoyance. “Yes.”

GymRat!Miguel who nearly sprints out the car when he parks by a pump. He’s been riding for a bit and he needs to stretch his legs.

“Miggy, you want something from the store?”

You’re standing next to the car, the wind blowing your hair back. Your jacket blows away a little, showing off the tight little outfit you’re sporting. You’re beautiful.

He wants to break you down in the front seat of his car.

He swallows the thought. “I’ll come in there soon, don’t worry.”

You walk in the giant gas station and head immediately to the Icee machines. For the best possible experience, you should wait until it’s time to go before buying it.

As you’re walking along the wall wondering what flavor you should get, you feel a tug at your arm.

You turn to see Dana with some bottles in her hand.

“I don’t know what he’s planning, but trust me when I say, you should take these.”

You frown as you take the cranberry juice. “Um.”

“I’ve been around those two long enough to know when one of them is up to something. I mean Gabriel hasn’t said anything off, but look at how he’s bopping around the store.”

You turn and look.

He is indeed bouncing more than usual. He’s so tall that if he puts even more pep in his step, he might just break a hole in the ceiling.

“Ok,” you turn back to Dana while fighting a laugh. “So they are planning something. What does that have to do with me and cranberry juice?”

“Gabie tries his best to use bro code, but I quite literally suck the information out of him sometimes. He caught Miguel looking at lots of articles about pleasuring his partner. With his mouth. That’s all I know for now.”

Your heart picks up. He was still going on about that?

“That might just be a coincidence.”

“He’s wearing damn near beach attire with his hair styled. He held onto your thigh for an hour, even when the turns got tough. He stared at you walking into the store even until he couldn’t see you anymore.”

You bit your lip. “Those last two things are standard Miguel behavior.”

Dana huffs and spins you around.

Across the store, you could see Miguel and Gabriel huddled over something. Miguel with his eyes focused and Gabriel animatedly explaining something. Every once in a while, Miguel would nod and roll his eyes up as if he was mentally checking on something.

You sigh and turn back around.

“Do they sell pineapples too?”

GymRat!Miguel who looms over you while you and Dana are looking at some cakes. You look up at him, pressing your head against his chest.

Miguel kissed your forehead when you beamed at him.

He looked over to Gabriel who was also crowding Dana and shouted, “¡Vamos!”

In a matter of seconds, Miguel had lifted you and brought you to the middle of the store where the workers were cooking up fresh meat.

You squeal in shock and laugh on the way over. Miguel’s not even struggling.

Gabriel on the other hand huffs as he places Dana down.

“You need to work on that, babe.”

“I can lift you when I want to!” Gabriel replies, petulant.

“For like one minute maybe. Why don’t you start working out with Miguel?”

“No thanks.” They both said in unison, almost carbon copies of each other.

Really, if Miguel didn’t work out, or if Gabriel did for about a year, they could definitely play off as twins. Only subtle things separating them, like Gabriel’s freckles, softer face, and slightly shorter height and Miguel’s less curly hair, thicker eyebrows, and deeper voice.

In your eyes, their bond was precious. You wondered what their baby pictures looked like.

“You guys are so cute,” you say, reaching up to squeeze both of their cheeks.

They both melt the same way in your hands. Miguel’s face is only a little bit hotter against your palm.

GymRat!Miguel who presses up against you while you both check out. You stay nonchalant and talk to the cashier like normal, but you could feel Miguel’s heartbeat through your thin romper.

Every breath he took molded on your skin, his chest rising and falling against your head.

He kept steady hands on your hips and waist, only moving them to pay for your snacks.

The cashier would take not-so-subtle breaks to stare up at him, face getting redder after each glance.

You could only think “me too, girl.”

He really did look good today. His shirt was open a little lower than normal, his shorts loose but tightening around his thighs with every step he took. His hair was slicked back with a few strands falling loose and shades sat perfectly on top of his head. A chain danced around his neck, the color glowing on his pretty skin. He was tanner than usual, the sun making him glow after so many morning runs.

To top it off he smelled really good. You wanted to lick him.

From how slow the cashier was moving, you knew she was ready to take a lick too.

You took moments like this in stride. Especially when Miguel was pressed so hard against you, you could feel his dick at the small of your back.

Still, when people still tried to hit on your boyfriend or gawked at him even when you caught them, it was hard not feel frustrated about others thinking he can be taken from you. Or just ignoring you.

More often than not, Miguel would bring you back down to earth with some action to let others know that he’s taken.

Today, it was a kiss to your neck and a smack to your ass followed by his hand rubbing circles in the same spot.

He grabbed the bags in one hand and your hip in the other.

You looked back to the cashier scanning the next customer far more aggressively than before.

GymRat!Miguel who eats half of his sandwich before starting the car back up.

You still place the other half in front of his mouth, feeding him occasionally.

He just smiles before and after each bite. Giddy with attention. You wipe his mouth to stop sauce from spilling from his shirt.

Miguel almost turns the car into turbo drive.

GymRat!Miguel who finally makes it to the beach an hour or so later. It’s late Thursday afternoon, so the sun is still shining bright.

Gabriel is excited to finally be free from the tight back seat so he uses the opportunity to blast music from Miguel’s stereo.

“C’mon, Dana! Dance with me,” Gabriel said, pulling her out of the back seat and bringing her to the front of the var. “Let’s have a twerk-off.”

You can’t stop the laugh that spills out of your mouth. You couldn’t imagine either of them shaking anything.

“I can not twerk and you know it!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t shake. Don’t be shy now!”

You and Miguel get out of the car to stretch, Miguel watching the two over the hood of the car, unphased.

Gabriel turns to you with a glint in his eyes. “Can you twerk?”

You were ready to shake your ass on a yacht after some liquid courage, but you didn’t mind a little dancing beforehand.

You hurried to the front before the song was over and put your hands on the hood. You bend over with an arch in your back and move your ass to the beat of the song.

You hear Gabriel shout, “Oh shit! Go, go, go!”

Dana sprints, nearly bulldozing Gabriel to stand behind you and catch it. You laugh at the two and bend even deeper, encouraged by their cheers.

GymRat!Miguel whose eyes nearly pop out of his head when you bend over.

When did you learn how to do that?

He’s stunned for a second until he reaches inside the car and turns the radio off. He’s going to kill Gabriel.

Miguel hurries to the front and picks Dana up by her armpits to move her aside. “You guys are wasting my gas and neither you or you are CashApping me shit.”

He straightens you up and pulls your risen romper back over your ass. He stands behind you like a bodyguard, arms crossed and frown deepening.

“I don’t know what you think we’re going to be doing on this yacht, but all of my girls are throwing it back. You need to prepare yourself, Mig.” Dana scoffs, mostly offended that Miguel just removed her from a dream spot.

“Yeah, Mig. Be mindful of why you were invited to the function,” Gabriel turned his nose up and wrapped his arm around Dana. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, m’lady.”

Gabriel bowed to you and you curtsied back with a fake dress. The two of them walked like royalty to the trunk, gathering their bags.

GymRat!Miguel who stuttered trying to explain himself when you turned to him.

“Is it going to be a problem for you that I’m dancing with others?”

“No!” he said way too fast.

You gave him a look with your eyebrow raised.

“You just,” he paused. His voice got quieter as he played with the strap of your romper. “You never danced on me before.”

He had a pout on his face, mouth turned like a duck.

“Oh my god, Miguel. I can dance on you if you would like. You just have to ask.” He was so cute. You’ve never seen him get that jealous before.

You kind of want to play with him some more.

“Can you dance on me later?” he asks, not daring to meet your eyes.

“Of course.”

You giggle as you kiss his cheek. His pout slowly disappearing from his face.

GymRat!Miguel who is greeted by the enthusiastic captain with a shake that moves his entire arm. He’s a jolly little fellow, cheeks rosy and his mustache curled on the ends. He was also strangely stocky. He reminded Miguel of Santa Claus if he took vacations in the Bahamas when he’s not at the North Pole.

“I take it you’re Mr. Stone’s son, yes?”

“That would be me.”

“Excellent! Excellent. Your father has told me quite a lot about you. You sure do take after his height. My name is Captain Barrett and I’ll be steering the boat for you youngins this weekend. Me and your father go way back. And between you and me, I was better lookin’!”

Miguel chuckles awkwardly, trying to move the conversation along.

He finally looks past Miguel and sees the three of you standing there.

“And who might you three be?”

“This is my younger brother, Gabriel. His girlfriend, Dana.”

“And this is my girlfriend.” Miguel moves by your side and wraps his arm around your shoulders. His tone is full of warmth as he says your name.

“It’s nice to meet you all. Will you all be in our cabins this weekend?”

“Yeah, this is four of the ten staying on board. The others won’t get here until tomorrow at noon.”

“Is Kron supposed to be joining you all too?”

Miguel stiffens, his grip on your shoulder a little firmer.

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Perfect! He ruined my other boat and it took me ages to clean it up. Hopefully, you’re nothing like him.” Captain Barrett does a little pleading gesture with his hands.

“Welp, follow me and I’ll show you on board!”

GymRat!Miguel who is still stunned by the amount of things money can buy when he sees the yacht. He’ll never get used to the life of luxury that Tyler introduces to him.

“Holy shit,” Gabriel mutters as he stares up at the black and wooden beauty of the deck. Dana elbows in his side, telling him to be polite in front of the captain.

“Welcome to Black Jack.”

There were crew members there to hand out fancy smoothies and grab everyone’s bags.

You had seen yachts on some of your old high school classmates’ Insta stories but this was beyond.

“I’d like to introduce you guys to the crew. They’ll be assisting me to give you youngins a good time.”

Captain Barrett ran down the line and you all greeted every person. Miguel made mental notes of their names. They’ll be getting close with all of the surprises he had planned for you.

“And this is my son, Blake! He’ll be helping me up in the cockpit.”

Miguel stopped to shake his hand.

He was like the textbook definition of a pretty frat boy. Tall, but not O’Hara tall, tan, and handsome. He smiled and showed a straight line of teeth, dimples peeking through.

“Nice to meet you, Miguel. Kron’s really not coming?”

What’s with people asking about that dickhead today?

“Nope. Just us and our friends. If he does come, it’s news to me.”

Blake went to shake your hand and it was like he started to glow under the sun. His smile went up to his eyes and he mimicked the heartthrobs in the movies Miguel’s cousins watched growing up.

“And who’s this?”

“My name is-”

“My girlfriend,” Miguel said before you could even finish.

You looked up at him in shock, laughing it off. “That too, but I have a name.” You respond to Blake and shake his hand.

Miguel doesn’t like how his eyes scan your body. It was subtle, but he caught it.

Even as you all finish up greetings, Blake is still making moves towards you. The type of flirting that probably flew over your head, but Miguel has been around enough guys like him to know exactly what it was.

“So is this your first time on a boat?” Blake asked you while he guided you guys to your room.

“No, actually. But it’s definitely my first time on a yacht, especially one this huge.”

Miguel followed behind with Dana and Gabriel.

“Is this your first time on a boat?” Miguel mocked Blake quietly, mouth scrunched up.

“‘La envidia esta flaca, porque muerde y no come,’” Gabriel replied. “You’re turning green from your neck, bro. He’s just being nice.” (Envy is thin, because it bites and does not eat.)

“No, he’s definitely flirting,” Dana quipped. “He’s not even paying the rest of us any attention.”

“Thank you, Dana. And Gabriel, don’t ever quote a Spaniard to me again.”

“How do you call that flirting? He’s not even-” Gabriel paused as Blake laughed really loud at something that you said with his hand guiding you way too close on your ass. “Ah shit.”

Miguel stomped towards you two, yanking Blake’s hand off of you and replacing it with his.

“I think we’ve got it from here. You can show those two where they’ll be staying. Thanks,” Miguel nods his head towards Dana and Gabriel with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Right,” Blake responds to him with a blank face. “I’ll see you up on the deck.” Blake winks at you before walking further.

“Don’t kill him, Miguel,” Dana pats his shoulder as she walks by.

“You’ve got my permission to hurt him if he touches me one more time though,” you say, snuggling close to Miguel and patting at his chest.

“So, I’m killing him. Got it.”

GymRat!Miguel who watches you twirl around the VIP suite.

“Miguel! This is so beautiful! Look at the view.”

“Oh my god! There’s a walk-in closet!”

“There’s a bidet! How’d they fit that and a shower in here?”

Miguel leaned on the doorway, watching you comment on every little thing.

You made sure to start to spray everything with Lysol, a habit from your mom when traveling.

While you were in the bathroom, Miguel got out one of his first gifts of the night.

It was another keychain to add to your collection. He’s been working hard to have this weekend make up for the awful dinner night.

He placed it on the bed and started to open his bag to grab his pajamas.

“What’s this?” you ask, coming out to spray the bed.

“Just a little gift for you.”

“Aw, this is so cute!” Your voice gets higher as you take in the little legos. “They even look like us! When did you get these?”

“I got them made about a week ago. You like them?”

“I love them! Thank you, Miggy.”

GymRat!Miguel who wants to moan when you walk out.

You guys are going on a double date with Gabriel and Dana at a casual-not-so-casual restaurant farther in the city. That didn’t stop you from getting all dolled up.

You walk to him on the bed, standing in between his legs.

“Amor,” Miguel said, rubbing his hands up and down your backside. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you. So do you,” you responded, careful to not run your hands through his hair. It was a comfort for you, but you didn’t want to ruin it.

Instead, you bent down to kiss him in the quiet of the room. The sun was still out, but a lot dimmer than before. Little patches of sunlight caught Miguel’s eyes. The color was so deeply brown, you swore you saw speckles of red throughout.

He moved to sit you on his lap, glancing over every detail of your body.

“You’re making it harder for me to want to leave.”

“It’s funny that you say that. You’ve been walking around like you’re straight out of a beach movie. Chest out and legs for days.”

Miguel blushed and put his head in your chest, bending you back and holding you so you won’t fall.

“What are you hiding for? It’s true!” you laugh as Miguel seemed to burrow his face deeper.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to call me out.” He was just trying to impress you, per usual.

GymRat!Miguel who gets nervous on the way to the restaurant. It was one of those immersive experiences with projections on the plates that told stories with the meals. They were pretty cute to Miguel and he figured that all three of you guys would love it.

The only thing is, he pulled some strings with Tyler to add an extra animation in there. He’s not sure how much that cost, but he’s glad he didn’t have to see the price.

GymRat!Miguel who side-eyes Gabriel when he just about screams as the little chef walks across the animated place.

“He’s so tiny!” he whisper-shouts. “So precious!”

By the time the first course comes out Gabriel is fighting tears.

“Control it, Gabri,” Miguel says, rubbing his back.

“I’m trying. I really am.”

GymRat!Miguel whose heart blooms when you laugh at one of the scenes. The little chef is squabbling with a giant shrimp and losing the battle.

GymRat!Miguel whose heart speeds up when the special animation starts up.

Only the two of your plates are lit up. There’s a river of chocolate that separates the two. From Miguel’s plate, there’s a little version of him that calls to your plate. He watches as your eyes grow when a mini you climbs on top of the plate and yells back. Your character throws him a kiss, sending a pink flutter across the river. The wave of it goes straight to mini Miguel’s heart who in turn, falls backwards dramatically.

The real you lets out a watery laugh at the scene, eyes looking at Miguel briefly in shock.

Mini Miguel jumps back up and gets to work, digging around the plate to grab biscoff cookies from the chocolate ocean to make a boat. While he works, your character wanders around the plate cutely, tidying up the area for his arrival.

When the boat is finished, Mini Miguel uses a giant spoon to steer the boat, singing out brightly the closer he gets to you. The mini you is jumping up and down, cheering him on just like you do in real life.

Once he gets to the edge of your plate, you lean close to give him a kiss. He climbs from the boat onto the plate and spins you around. You giggle in his hold until he lets you down.

From there, he starts to use the spoon to drag a chocolate message across the plate. He takes confident steps, spreading the brown syrup across the plate with ease.

“Tú eres mi luz.” (You are my light.)

When he finishes it, you both sit at the edge of the plate, feeding each other scoops of chocolate from the giant spoon. They both look up at you to wave, the Mini Miguel cheesing extremely hard as he waves both arms.

The animation fades away in a wave of browns and pinks, the waiters bringing out the actual plates of food.

The floodgates open when you’re presented with the same chocolate message, a slice of chocolate biscoff cake, and little chocolate decorations of the mini you and Miguel.

“Oh my god, the spoon is here too,” you say with emotion, picking up a chocolate coated spoon. “Miguel!”

You don't know what to do. You keep fanning your face in hopes to stop the tears from coming out and ruining the light makeup you had on. Dana hands you a pointed napkin and you thank her while holding your head back.

Gabriel is a mess, faces wet with tears. His cheeks are round as he blows out air to control his breathing.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, mi amor,” Miguel’s face is ridden with worry as he reaches across the table to grab your hand. He looks to Gabriel and sighs, “You either, hermanito.” (little brother)

“I’m good. I gotta just,” Gabriel waves a hand in front of his face cutely. “Just gotta get this out. If you’ll excuse me.”

He gets up to shuffle to the bathroom.

“I better go help him out. He gets a little delirious when he cries like that,” Dana says, rubbing your shoulder as she leaves the table.

Miguel wastes no time to sit in Dana’s seat, taking the napkin from your hands and wiping carefully at your tears.

“I love you. So, so much,” you say, resting your face in his hands. “Everyday, you find new ways to surprise me. I don’t know how you do it, but I’m just…”

You pause, waving your hands in the air, unable to express how you felt. Just thinking about it has the tears spilling over again.

“Hey, hey,” Miguel chides, catching your tears again. “If you keep crying, I’m going to cry.”

“I can’t help it, Miguel! You made a cookie boat to get to me. How can I not cry?”

Miguel reaches to kiss your cheeks in hopes to help you subside the tears, “I know, baby, I know. But to answer your first thought, when I think of you, the ideas just pour out of me. You’re my first true love, so I don’t know all the ends and outs of a relationship, but I do know what it feels like to be loved. I just want to extend that feeling to you.”

You stare in awe and the man sitting next to you, eyes glistening as you take in his words.

“I think I need another tissue.”

Miguel laughs as he grabs one to pat at your face again.

GymRat!Miguel who feeds you bites of the cake while you feed him scoops of ice cream when you’ve calmed down. You can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

divider by: @iwonbin 🩵

Part 9.2 here!

a/n: This is half of the chapter, but I had so much fun writing this! (mostly because I was not doing my actual work while writing half of it), especially Gabriel's silly ass. Like, it was super duper fun. Writing jealous Miguel was also great. There's so much stuff about reader that he was unaware of and I've been imagining him sitting at a table and yelling like Kendrick when it all plays back in his mind.

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mysticheathenn · 5 months

Text

Reassuring Messages From The Universe

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is all about messages reassuring you that everything is going to be okay. I felt called to do this reading, hopefully, this reading gives you some sort of solace, peace, and hope.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

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Pile l:

What are your reassuring messages? Tarot: The Chariot, 6 of Swords (Clarified by 2 of Swords, reversed), 4 of Pentacles (Clarified by 4 of Pentacles), The High Priestess, King of Wands.

Some of you may be dealing with depression, anxiety, or in general, your mental space has not been in the greatest of shape lately. Something is going to give you your spark back to help you trust and lead you on your way towards victory. You've been in your shell long enough holding onto the reality around you. For some of you, this is by choice but for the majority of you, this is because of your circumstances. You could be dealing with financial struggles or whatnot, either way, I see you finally walking down the path of where you want to go with no fear as to what will or can happen because you are trusting more in the universe (God, Allah, etc) that everything will work out. You're walking away from what could be a job, relationship, friends/family, or even just no longer letting your mental health and mindset get the best of you anymore and finally deciding enough is enough. If not you the universe will show you that enough is enough, this doesn't feel like a thrust into your new direction like a tower moment but more so of a gentle hand. Similar to how an animal is scared or nervous in their new home and you are gently letting them feel the lay of the land and giving them pets here and there of encouragement that everything is fine and that they are safe. This next chapter feels like safety, reassurance, and guidance from the divine. You may still be scared and may sometimes even revert back to what you know best but it will be more so of a quick mindset switch before you continue on this new path. I'm hearing where you are is no longer serving. Trust that you are being led to victory and not another lesson, financial bankrupt, etc. Lead with passion, lead by your passions, and live your life passionately. Be Bold and stop shrinking.

Extra Messages: Tea Trea Oracle: Strong emotion passionate love or hate. November. A period of ill health/Depression. Do not lower your standards. The key to the outcome of your problems. Involvement with the law (contracts or winning a legal battle). Obstacles you will overcome. Happiness.

Pile ll:

What are your reassuring messages? Tarot: 9 of Wands, Strength (reverse), 10 of Wands (reversed), 10 of Cups, 9 of Pentacles.

Weirdly "Hit Me Baby One More Time" came to mind but not in the sense of what the song is about but more so that you are constantly being knocked down by life's challenges and most of you aren't sure if you can get up again. "Knock me down 9 times but I get up 10" - Cardi B (Get Up 10). Your strength is weary but something in you still has that hope and faith that something better is coming and you are right. With the 9 of pentacles and 10 of cups card something better is coming. Because everyone's desires and goals are different whatever this is that you have been dreaming, manifesting, praying, or just working your ass off for is finally coming into fruition. You just need to not give up before the finish line, you're almost there. "I'm almost there" - Tianna, Princess and the Frog movie. Your story might be similar to Tiana's or you may have a deep admiration for her for how she worked hard and finally got her dream of owning a restaurant. Tiana is you, you are Tiana in this reading. She went through some tough times and even thought about giving up a time or two but something in her just like yourself is holding on to that thread of hope that everything will pay off, you just need a sign. This is that sign. Keep hanging on, hold on to your guides/Universe/Ancestors/etc hand during this process when you feel you need that extra push to keep going. I am hearing some of you a fast may help give you more clarity or bring this to fruition faster. Some of you may have been thinking about fasting. Fasting can be anything. It can be not eating from 8am to 8pm, not eating breakfast and lunch, sustaining from social media or sex, etc etc. Whatever it is fast may give you the clarity and strength you need. Fasting is only for some of you

Extra Messages: Tea Tree Oracle: October. January. Good Fortune. Protected from negative forces beyond your control. A sincere wish will be granted. Period of frustration, lessons to be learned. The most difficult part is over. Major challenges to overcome. Something important, such as a new job or raise.

Pile lll:

What are your reassuring messages? Tarot: 10 of Cups, 5 of Wands, 7 of Swords (reversed), The Hermit, 4 of Cups, 9 of Pentacles.

There are two different messages for this pile. For some of you, you are dealing with someone in your life that is causing you a great deal of emotional and mental turmoil. You may even daily try to pray and wish this person away because you don't have the strength to do it yourself, while others of you are in hermit mode because you are tired of receiving people in your life that does nothing but make you hate people, wish you never met them, or just not want to connect with others in general. Either way, the main gist of it all is people are stressing you out and have not been treating you well forcing you to rethink everything in life. Some of you might even question your existence as if you are here to be a punching bag for those who have not healed their inner wounds. For those still dealing with toxic people I am seeing you going into a period of isolation. Your prayers, manifestions, cord cutting rituals are being answered. I'm hearing be careful what you wish for. So for some of you, this isolation is exactly what the doctor ordered while some of you will like it in the beginning but slowly realize exactly what this period of isolation may mean. You may be the type that doesn't do well alone or not always surrounded by people and this isolation it will teach you not only how to see your self-worth and what truly matters in your life (what you want and not allow people to treat you). Others who are in a period of isolation already may have been working on something if not you will receive an idea something that will bring you the emotional and financial fulfillment that you have been desiring for a while. Either way, at the end of both periods of isolation blessings, emotional, and financial blessings are to be found. Take this period of self-reflection as a blessing and utilize it to the best of your abilities to explore yourself. I get a sense that you don't know yourself pile lll. Some of you may have an idea of who you are, what you stand for, and your morals/integrity.....but do you really know yourself..the real you and not the one you put on as a facade. Do not be afraid of what is to come. Do not be afraid of peace and quiet. Embrace the silence. Embrace the change and shift in the current.

Extra Messages: Tea Tree Oracle: Honor and respect will come to you. Changes in your life. Sorrow over a loss. Financial Pinch. Happiness. Peace and Harmony. Deep personal strength and peace that assures success (period of isolation).

Pile lV:

What are your reassuring messages? Tarot: 9 of Cups, Awakening, The Hermit, Queen of Wands (reversed), King of Wands

Similar to pile lll, but different. Instead of this being about others causing yourself turmoil this is mostly about you not feeling confident in yourself or your abilities to do anything right especially regarding goals, talents, etc. For some of you, this idea was implanted by someone you once looked up to but for most of you, this has more to do with either perfectionism or just comparing yourself to someone else. You aren't realizing that the reason the grass is greener on the other side is because that person too had to put in the work to make it in such a state. They didn't just wake up with green grass but they nurtured it, fed it nutrients, and kept unwanted and negative pests or harmful animals away from it. You need to do the same for yourself as well. You are the grass that needs to be nurtured, loved, and spoken to with such kindness. Anything else that does not give you the feeling of growth, happiness, and peace has no room in your life pile lV. As mentioned before, in pile lll you may either be in isolation or in need of isolation to help clear your mind. Either way in this isolation, you will be finding yourself again. Some of you may even look up things on Tumblr, Pinterest, etc on how to be "That girl/boy/person", Cottage Core, or whatever aesthetic or vibe that you have been wanting to do either way you want to become more tapped into who you are without caring what others may think. You are stepping into your power and becoming happy with life and possibly even trying to romanticize your life more. Some of you may even want to start a YouTube channel to help romanticize your life with edits and so forth. Weirdly I am feeling the vibe of slow-living content (only a few of you.) If not slow living waking up at 5 or 6am in the morning type of routine. Either way, this message is to reassure you that you are and will be coming back to yourself. It may take some time, trial, and error but when you listen to only yourself and not others, you will flourish beyond belief. Take this time to document your journey so you can see your growth as to when you become the person you are meant to be. Being yourself is the key to your financial abundance. That's all I hear. I don't know what they may mean for you either way being and finding yourself is the key. This could be like I mentioned YouTube, this could be giving into your desires to knit or crochet weird things or even making figurines and selling them on Etsy...whatever the thing is, being authentic is the key.

Extra Messages: Tea Tree Oracle: Someone or something is trying to come between you and something you want. Recognition, Reward for merit. Chain of events that will affect your life. Career. March. News of a birth or new business opportunity. Happiness. Money will be coming to you. A goal-oriented person.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

Next Reading: Patreon Related

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cozycottagetarot · 8 months

Text

The Next Chapter Of Your Life

How To Pick A Pile:

Everyone has their own technique for choosing a 'pile'. My recommendation is to clear your mind and focus on each image for a few seconds. The image you find yourself coming back to even when you focus on the other images is the pile for you.

Quick notes on this reading:

It's a long one -- This reading is a lot longer (I think) than what I typically post. I'd appreciate any feedback on the length since it's something I'm experimenting with. The pile titles are colour-coded -- Hopefully, it helps make scrolling to the next section quicker.

Each pile references multiple scenarios -- some scenarios came through stronger than others, but I did my best to write what I was getting to be applied to situations not mentioned.

‼️ THIS READING IS MEANT FOR SELF-REFLECTION AND ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY -- While this reading does contain a bit of advice and reflective questions, IT'S IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM MEANT TO REPLACE PROFESSIONAL ADVICE OF ANY KIND. Please use your discretion, think carefully before you act and only take what resonates be it a little, some or none at all. (The usual disclaimer is at the bottom).

Reading Masterlist | Patreon | Paid Readings -- Open 🥂

PILE 1 (Scrapbook)

Who are you? Cards: The Poet, The Founder rev, The Queen of Roses

This pile may be the pile for you if any of the following resonates:

Wanting to connect or being very connected to your loving, nurturing and supportive side. You've been receiving messages or sensing that a new connection is on the horizon. Motherhood/parenthood or marriage. Seeking resolutions to a relationship. Leaving behind relationships that have been in your life forever. Giving too much to others. Ending toxic relationships. Finding or wanting freedom. Finding your voice. Finding you. Tapping into your creative side. A quest for happiness.

If none of these individual sentences resonate feel free to check out a different pile.

Who will you become throughout this next chapter? Cards: The Muse, The Gambler

You will begin to bloom. Maybe not fully, but you’ll be more open to taking the necessary steps (which may feel like risk) to flourish. The end result will be you tapping into your creativity and creator energy. But also putting in the work, and changing your approach. I pulled all the cards at once so being able to take in all the cards at once, it’s this sense of making you happen. Gone will be the sense of being who you think you should or are expected to be. You’ll be gaining a new sense of self that is brighter and more wild. The risk is non-existent. It’s more perceived. It seems like a risk to indulge in the aspects of yourself that may seem like they’re more whimsy, but by actually making those things happen, you will transform into someone who can inspire themself. You won’t have to look for inspiration elsewhere, you’ll have it there within you.

How will you find success? Cards: 3 of Keys (The Chess Game), The King rev

Through changing your tactic. This chapter won’t necessarily be easy. There will be conflict with those around or above you, especially if this relates to career or relationships, possibly even both. Detach from the situation and be objective. Waiting for your opening will be the key to your success. For some, it’s a situation where everyone is only looking out for themself and I’m picking up that it's creating a stalemate. With the king reversed, you know what’s best in the situation but someone with more authority than you or a level of seniority if this is a personal relationship thinks they know better but they don’t. It’s about being firm and holding your own as well as not letting your emotions, or the part of you that’s super connected to the situation, get the best of you and influence you to make rash decisions.

Challenges you may meet: Cards: The Astronomer, The Orator, Reflection rev.

I see the biggest challenge here for you being one of mastering yourself in this next chapter. There’s a battle between your emotions and your intuition. To navigate this you need to have a conversation with yourself and determine why you’re having such strong emotions. Where are these feelings stemming from? The astronomer card is here to remind you that whatever the situation is, it’s not really about the past-- it’s not going to help you navigate this chapter. Especially if you’ve been acting according to what’s expected of you when the current/upcoming situation(s) requires you to do what is true to you. I hope I'm not repeating myself too much here, but the challenge becomes exploring the why behind the emotions so you can better make decisions and listen to your intuition. BUT, keep in mind that it doesn’t mean not to listen to your emotions at all.

Another message here is that working with other people may also show up as a challenge. There's a reminder to listen to other people's perspectives but also know that choosing to hear someone’s POV doesn’t mean you have to absorb it as yours either.

Finally, even when it gets tough, don’t doubt yourself. Take your time. It may seem like you have to have it all figured out and know what to say and which decision to make, but not really. It’s easy to feel that way when it feels like everything is at stake, but again, if you feel that way, pause and ask yourself why? Once you have your why, you can take on the world.

Lessons To Be Learned: Cards: The Painter, 8 of keys (the master artisan)

This definitely feels like it relates to career or passion projects, but of course, just adjust to your individual situation. It may or may not mean anything, but your cards have lots of florals.

Your lessons in this next chapter of life relate to learning to connect with yourself, speaking up and putting yourself out there. Your energy is one that makes me feel like you have such an amazing talent you're hesitant to embrace. You have so much to learn and just as much to offer... this is the beginning of that journey. Don’t be shy. There are opportunities out there waiting, you just have to figure out the way to pursue them that is most authentic to you. Even if it’s simply an opportunity to give love and kindness. I know I focused a lot on career and creativty, but this goes for relationships too. There is a lot of heavy energy covering this beautiful light-hearted one that just wants to break free. If you are considering going into teaching or taking up a teaching opportunity (not necessarily even in a formal education system) or enrolling in a course of some kind, I feel like this is a nod to say go for it. Especially pottery or beadwork? Trade work as well, maybe even culinary school or food-related skills. (I could be projecting there on the culinary aspect though as that's what I did and the imagery on the card reminds me of it).

Advice to take with you in this next chapter: The hound and pear (loyalty) — This card is always a bittersweet card whenever I see it. The message here is one of loyalty and friendship. A new relationship (of any kind), one founded on friendship, is precious but also delicate. Don't make irrevocable decisions based on conclusions. It must be treated with care on both sides because it can be damaged easily.

The deer and oat (healing) — Rest and recharge. Moderation and mindfulness are also key for recovering from difficult or intense situations. Ask yourself, how you can rest and nurture yourself?

The snake and fern (starting over) — it’s time to finish breaking free from the past so you can become something new. So you can return to your true self. What has protected you and brought you to this point? Are you in a position to release it? Are there any parts of your past self that you can regrow from (like snipping off part of a plant that may be unhealthy and leaving the rest so it can re-catch itself, not sure why I picked that analogy) or must you grow anew? (Planting a new seed, from the old plant. The essence is still there but a completely new plant will grow)

If you made it this far I appreciate it. Feedback is welcomed and if there's a topic you'd like me to cover in a pac, feel free to let me know!

Pile 2 (Compass)

If you’re drawn to pile 1 feel free to check that out as well.

Who are you? Cards: The Oracle of Delphi, the Sentinel, the Forgotten

This pile may be the pile for you if any of the following resonates:

Intuitive. Connected to a higher power. Diety work. Past lives. Psychic powers. Perseverance. Fighting back. Confidence threatening to become arrogance. Dominance dancing on the lines of domineering. A force to be reckoned with. Someone who's sometimes brash. Amor fati (love of fate). An academic. Dreamlight Valley. Self-esteem issues (past or present). Someone who was looked past and from it learned not to try. Fear. Anxiety. A lost soul stumbling in the dark. Chaos. Morally grey. *You may be an avid reader or enjoy fantasy media as well.

My Overall Impression: You’re a force to be reckoned with and reckon you will. Your energy is just pure power and chaos. I low-key feel like you’re battling with life/the universe (call it what you prefer, that’s just how I prefer to call it). There’s this energy of "Try me" and the universe is like "I got one for you, watch and see". But there’s no malice. I just get fed-up vibes from you and the response from life is like "Okay 👀, but chill." Enemies to lovers with life itself.

Who will you become throughout this next chapter? Cards: The Ark of the Covenant, Beith — Birth, The Queen, The Assassin

The Queen and The Assassin flew out with such fury! You’re going to become someone worthy of wearing a crown. But it comes at a price, though it’s not one you can sit around and sulk about. The next chapter of your life reminds me of being forged in fire. Now you’re stepping into the role and identity of someone who can achieve your goals. It’s dark at times, but you’re gaining the skills to do what you want to do and I get the feeling this "thing" you're meant to do is one you may feel on a deep or soul level. (It is) fulfilling a higher calling or purpose. At the very least, you’re becoming someone who has decided that this is the last time they repeat a cycle.

You’re working towards something more and it feels like by the end of this chapter, you’ll be granted a brief reprieve. There’s still more work to be done though. You’re stepping into a new era where so much will grow from you. For some of you, a new romantic relationship is coming in and/or you're expanding your family-- that includes found family as well.

How will you find success?

Cards: 4 of Roses (views of the ego) the Witch. Rev

The first message that comes through is that your success lies in cutting someone off. Someone selfish and self-absorbed to be exact. It’s a relationship you’ve stayed in too long... they could have had some kind of hold over you, not necessarily in a controlling way, but they could have meant something on a deep level which could have been why you held on. You may have done a lot you’re not happy with because you’ve done it with this person in mind. Cutting ties with them grants you success as it allows you to focus on what’s truly important to you.

The other message with the witch reversed is the importance of remembering that while you’re forging your own path, it’s okay to look to others who have made it or 'gotten out'. Maybe they haven’t gone through the exact same thing, but it doesn’t mean there isn’t wisdom in the stories of others who’ve forged through and paved their own way as well. Pile one was about breaking away from the expected, but you’re being called to review what is expected and see if there’s anything worth considering. Kind of like shopping around for inspiration? You might come across someone else's story and it might spark an idea within you on how to navigate your own.

Challenges you may meet-- Cards: The Tailor Rev, The Scribe

Your challenges in this next chapter involve trying not to force your will upon the flow of your life and refining your focus. I know, I said forged in fire. There’s an imbalance of sorts... instead of firing and hoping you hit the target (your goal), you need to pause and take a good look at what’s working vs what isn’t. The 'wheel of life' worksheet/exercise comes to mind but I personally hate that exercise so much. I bring it up because it allows you to get a visual of what areas of your life you've been focusing on vs neglecting and pinpoint which areas of your life you’re lacking in. From there you can further assess and gain a better grasp on what you should be focusing on. After all, you can do anything, but you can’t do everything.

With the scribe, you may need to study or fine-tune your skills regarding a specific matter more. Here, there's something you need to learn to influence your life in the way you want, but you have to take the time to figure out what it is that you need to learn. It doesn’t have to be formal learning either. It could be something such watch a YouTube video, reading a book or article, or even taking a free online course or masterclass. Nothing is too big or too small here, as long as it's helping you to develop to get from point A to B.

Lessons To Be Learned:

Cards: 8 or scrolls (path unknown), the diviner, the puppeteer

The 8 of scrolls here reminds you that you’ve been travelling on a path where you know the outcomes, but to get to where you want to be sometimes requires walking down paths that may mean you don’t know what’s going to happen until it happens. At the same time, that’s how opportunities we didn’t know we needed arise. In the card imagery, there’s a basket next to the girl filled with scrolls, the same type of scrolls pictured in the scribe card. I think for you it’s learning the skill or information I mentioned that is going to help you feel more confident and assured on this path you’re following. You’ve got the energy of the queen archetype (regardless of gender), and though it may be a challenge, you’ve equipped yourself with the skills necessary to go after what you want. You’ll have what it takes 100% to move on to the next phase (after this one we're talking about).

The Diviner is about divine timing and evaluation. Here you’ve done all that you can with what is in your control. What’s left now is waiting for your desires outcomes to come to fruition. While you can’t rush or force things, you can make sure you set yourself up for success when you get it. So let's say you're waiting on receiving a sum of money, in the meantime you can learn/brush up on the skills to manage money etc.

Finally with the puppeteer, mending relationships could also be a lesson. Although I think it’s more about learning to interact with others better? But also remembering that sometimes apologies can mend relationships and other times they can’t. Going back to that relationship mentioned way before, it could be a matter of "are you willing to forgive the other person if they were to apologise and see the error of their ways?" (Though with the type of person mentioned that may be unlikely but, who knows).

Another possibility with the assassin card is that you may ruffle feathers at some point, so you may learn the power or limits of an apology in that sense as well.

Advice to take with you in this next chapter:

The Finch and Peach (romance) — romance is on its way to you. Things to ponder on could be: do you feel ready to welcome love into your life? What are some things that make you feel loved/how do you like to receive love?

The Marten and Foxglove (mischief) — this card asks you to stay open to opportunities that allow you to tap into your playful side, be spontaneous or travel. Ask yourself how can you make room for spontaneity? (It could be through trying new foods, reading a different genre, visiting a place you wouldn’t typically visit, changing up your daily routine etc). Also are you at a point where you can open yourself to new adventures, big or small?

The Boar and Pumpkin (confidence) — You’re not wrong to be confident in yourself, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Take a moment to acknowledge your accomplishments and think about what you’ve done that you’re proud of (doesn’t always have to be tangible, it can also be mindsets, situations you’ve walked from etc).

The Snake and Fern (starting over) — Again, if you were drawn to pile one, I suggest you check that out. Here this card nods to beginning a new and asks you to see if there are any parts of yourself you can return to, or if it’s time to completely start anew and discover yourself from scratch.

If you made it this far I appreciate it. Feedback is welcomed and if there's a topic you'd like me to cover in a pac, feel free to let me know!

Pile 3 (The Trunks/Suitcase)

Who are you? Cards: The Smith, The Twins, The Lookout, The Askashic Library, 3 of Forces (Bird’s Nest)

This pile may be the pile for you if any of the following resonates:

The overthinker. Having a twin or prominent Gemini placements. If you're considering something you’ve been wanting to do for a while but keep putting off. A relationship with someone in which you both started on the same path but they went in another direction. Holding onto resentment. Feel like everything is up in flames. Writing. Seeking self-awareness. Manifesting. Intuitive. *Read that book you’ve been meaning to read. Needing a backup plan. Expanding. Hopeful prospects.

*If this doesn't feel like your pile, and you were eyeing pile 4, definitely check it out. This pile was actually the last I pulled and the hardest to read for and it felt like many aspects of it related to other piles as well. I recommend checking out a secondary pile in general if you were drawn to one.

Who will you become throughout this next chapter? Cards: The Waker, The Runaway, The Warrior (Sorry, I forgot to write down some of the cards 🤦‍♀️, I believe it was 'Fated Meeting' and 'Queen of Scrolls')

You’re becoming someone who is becoming centred/aligned and more intuitive. Your internal world and external world are going to become more connected. Connected to your ‘higher self’ as well, it’s going to be you vs you (levelling up). You’re going to become someone who can face the things you’ve been running from head-on.

That thing you’ve been putting off, you’re going to be able to finally put into action. Coming into being filled with inspiration, clarity and direction. This is especially if you’re considering careers/education, or projects in the fields of writing, publishing, marketing, communication, counselling or teaching. If you’re seeking a mentor, this person could help guide you to becoming this way. It could also be someone in your life already that may help you who is in one of these fields.

For a select few of you, you’re becoming the version of you that was meant to meet your person. If it’s not a romantic partner, then you’re coming into contact with a soulmate (meant as someone you have a ‘soul bond’ with).

Where Will You Find Success? Cards: 4 of Keys (Clearing The Way), Reflection, The Cartographer rev, The Weaver

If you find yourself prone to many different avenues of ideas and project but never settling on one, you’re going to find your success through settling on one thing and focusing on it. It’s time for you stop buckle down and stick with one of those brilliant ideas of yours and make it happen.

Also while it may be time for you to focus on one thing professionally or creatively, when it comes to yourself, it’s time to embrace all the pieces of you that seem random. It reminds me of this post I saw a couple of days ago about how we don't have to force ourselves fit perfectly into an aesthetic... that it's okay to have and embrace parts of your personality that are completely left field of the other bits that go hand in hand. So for some of you, maybe it’s time to embrace all the pieces of you that don’t go together neatly. Maybe that’s why you have these ideas and start them and then ditch them, because you’re a multifaceted being and you’re not allowing yourself to be so and that is the way it manifests in your life? Maybe it’s time to learn how to let all the sides of you coexist without getting lost. Food for thought maybe?

Regardless, it’s time to remove distractions that are holding you back. Tap into your intuition. Become more aware of your emotions. There's a sense of self-mastery is needed here.

Challenges You May Meet? Cards: The Pathless, The Miser, 1 of Scrolls (On Track), Up In The Air, 6 of Forces (The Waterfall) rev

Your challenges kind of relate to the things that were mentioned already. Being in your head, overthinking things, being unable to settle, but also trying to avoid falling into a headspace where you’re being pessimistic and stubborn. Just because you stick to one thing doesn’t mean you can’t shift and adjust your approach. And if you find that you’re really stuck don’t be afraid to just take a step back. If this is all relating to something where other people are giving you their unsolicited advice, don’t be afraid to brush it off and say “Hey, I might have hit a block but trust that I know what I’m doing”. Another scenario is to not internalise any unsolicited advice or opinions because I feel like that could be a trigger for getting lost in your head for some of you.

For overthinking, it'll be about learning to accept that you won’t be able to know the exact outcome of certain things. If you’re working with someone else, then feeling like you are in control or that you have a say may be the challenge. For others, the challenge may simply be making the decision or committing. It could also be coming to terms with the fact that you waited so long to pursue this goal.

Lessons To Be Learned: Cards: The Brawler, The Forgotten, 2 of Roses (The Winged Messengers), Uriel and the Sphinx, the king of roses

With the Forgotten you’ll learn that you can’t be afraid of mistakes. Mistakes help you grow. You'll come to realise how much fear has been holding you back. There's also learning how to make something out of your anxiety. Learning not to run from conflict or maybe how to properly address it could also be another lesson. This could be regarding internal conflict or conflict with another person as I am getting multiple scenarios come up.

Again there's a message here that for some of a romantic suitor specifically coming in. Overall for everyone there’s an important relationship making its way into your life. The mentor shows up as a neutral energy throughout the reading (or balanced feminine and masculine). Their energy is thoughtful, nurturing/comforting and supportive.

Advice — The Goat and Willow (overdoing obstacle) — even though there are losses to suffer, you can overcome them with renewed energy and the right balance. When obstacles appear, prioritise realigning yourself with your goals. You can even get ahead of the game and brainstorm ways to handle potential obstacles before they arise. The Chipmunk and Laurel (success) — Your path to success will be a unique one, one you have to create on your own, but there will be adventures along the way. The Elk and Ash (strength) — Don’t be afraid to fight back when met with a challenge.

If you made it this far I appreciate it. Feedback is welcomed and if there's a topic you'd like me to cover in a pac, feel free to let me know!

Pile 4 (The plane around the world)

CW: Brief implication of strong language

Who are you? Cards: The storyteller, the mascareri, 1 of roses (commitment), 6 of roses (the war of roses)

This pile may be the pile for you if any of the following resonates:

Someone who struggles with the 'self'. You may hide your true self and struggle to accept others' true selves. For you, you could spend a lot of time crafting your persona. For some of you you maybe in positions where you delegate to others or are responsible for others' behaviour (managerial or boss positions). Some of you could work with kids or want to work with kids. Putting on a mask. Neurodivergence. You could enjoy writing or be a writer of some kind. The arts. Struggling with a partnership (romantic or business), trying to balance honouring yourself and their wishes? Conflicted about a relationship. Feeling like there's a battle between your head vs your heart.

Who will you become throughout this next chapter? Cards: 4 of Scrolls rev (The Karmic Trenches), The Patron rev, The poet You’re becoming someone with so much to offer and is still looking to grow. However, people may want to take advantage of that. Becoming someone who doesn’t hesitate and is in love with life. Embracing that life is imperfect. Becoming more vulnerable. Finding like-minded people. Embracing happiness. Tapping into your creative spirit. There could be an ending of some kind, though you didn’t want it, it brought a world full of new opportunities. You're finally breaking a pattern but also having the awareness to know when you’re tip-toeing along the lines of going back. Coming out of the dark. This sense of being healed on multiple levels and being able to finally experience joy.

Where will you find success? Cards: The Astronomer Rev, The Hound, 5 of forces (summer/winter), 7 of keys (The Ascent) You’re going to be finding success through setting long-term goals. If this is about a financial situation especially, then also finding a balance between focusing on what is necessary and not letting the 'wishlist' desires lead you astray. It can apply to any situation in general though. Focusing on what’s necessary and the things you would like to do coming afterwards.

There's also a matter of assessing where your loyalties or priorities lie and releasing habits, relationships, and ideas that are no longer serving you. Loyalty and staying true to your word might be something you value heavily and stand by, but I also see you finding success in this next chapter of your life by realising, you know what, sometimes you have to cut your ties, count any losses and move on because staying is only doing more harm than good. For some of you who have a relationship in mind or the relationship part resonated with you, this is especially true.

Taking action in general will bring success. This chapter could either close out or begin in the summer, or summer will mark an important time for you. With the 7 of keys, your success is guaranteed as long as you put in the work.

Challenges You May Meet: Cards: The Founder, The Shepard, 3 of Scrolls (Setting Your Course), Caught in The Ruins With The Founder, a challenge you might run into is needing to put yourself before someone else who is asking you for your help, although I'm also feeling it maybe asking you to put them first. You might struggle to determine whether or not you should offer them your help. The Shepard urges you to step up and take the lead when others need guidance. However, I think the best question to ask is what kind of person do you have to show up as in order to offer them your support? And also what type of person do you have to show up as to meet your goals? I’d say make a decision on how to proceed based on whether the two can successfully coincide or not.

A lot of different situations come up in this pile— relationships, career/finance, behaviours… but the common theme here seems to come down to mindset. Whatever the situation is that has you feeling trapped, you have to realise that it’s not definitive, even if it seems that way in your head. It seems like a lot of what is going on, and what you have to overcome, is self-sabotage and realising that just because you’ve always done something a certain way or a situation has always played out that way, doesn’t mean it will always be that way. You have the power to change; the challenge here simply lies in picking yourself up and dusting yourself off. There’s so much more out there for you than what you’re seeing right now. If relocating or travelling, especially where you have to cross the ocean, is something you’re hoping to do, then the end of this chapter we’re discussing in this reading might be the beginning of that next chapter in your life.

Lessons To Be Learned: Cards: 3 of Roses (Loving Elementals), 5 of Roses (The Garden)

The lessons here are about having a sense of child like wonder, and learning to find joy and exploration in life. Being able to laugh and play and find inspiration once more. If any of you have been thinking about starting a family (not necessarily right away) then it’s likely that this chapter will set you up for that. If not then I think a matter of legacy here. Being exposed to opportunities to nurture and grow the future you desire.

You’ll learn that sometimes you are the one who has to be the catalyst to change your life. I love this line from the guidebook of my Citadel Orcale cards regarding the catalyst. It says “ You are the bolt of lightning that topples the tower”. If you think about the Tower card in the traditional tarot deck, there’s lightning striking the tower and setting it on fire. Whenever it comes up it talks about upheaval and there’s often a sense of “oh great, something’s about to come **** up my life” but maybe [we] should consider that we’re not always the tower, but instead, we are the lightning. You have to make the decision to do or become something different, even if goes against what you've always known or what everyone tells you you should do.

What’s also important is not dwelling on past mistakes or regrets, it’s about learning from what happened and using it to make a better decision. Stop doubting yourself and overthink until your head hurts. Give yourself some grace and self-compassion. Take your time, changing isn’t going to happen overnight and often times we have to adjust to who we’re allowing ourselves to become.

Advice to take with you in this next chapter:

The Bee and Pomegranate (productivity) rev — If you find yourself struggling with procrastination, don’t be afraid to rest a while before giving whatever it is another go. Consider what makes you productive as well as what you can do to change why you’re not feeling productive towards another task.

The Racoon and Sycamore (curiosity) — The time is now to do some self-exploration. Explore new interests and hobbies as well as take time to think about how you’ve evolved and how you’d like to further evolve.

The Finch and Peach (romance) — Love is on its way to you. (I did kind of feel like it’s romantic love but it wasn't a prominent message in the reading.)

The Bear and Cedar (leadership) — You’re being guided towards leadership opportunities but remember to ‘rule’ with fairness and care. Ask yourself how can you be a better leader? Who can benefit from your knowledge and experience?

If you made it this far I appreciate it. Feedback is welcomed and if there's a topic you'd like me to cover in a pac, feel free to let me know!

*** Disclaimer: All readings and tarot/blog games are for fun and entertainment purposes only. It is in no way meant to act as or replace professional advice of any kind. You know yourself and what’s going on in your life best so I ask that you trust yourself above all else. Finally please take only what resonates from the reading which may be some of it, all of it, or none at all.

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pac reading #pick a picture #pac #pick a pile reading #tarot reading #cozycottagetarot

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