#i’ve been cramming for this course all day

[januaryembrs]

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

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

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

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

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

series masterlist | next chapter

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer gulped quietly. 

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

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing. 

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

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

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

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

So why lie?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+1. The one where you get arrested.

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

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

Yet so was Emily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+2. The one where you graduate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bug-���

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t even,” 

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was when the shooting started. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could only hope Emily was safe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so they did. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

This was not good. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

2:53 stared back at her. 

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

2:54.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she saw why. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saved mine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stayed with Emily for a month after that. 

+4. The one where you leave the altar. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

[pure-smut]

toxic.

featuring: Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

contains: college!Sukuna, established relationship, drugging (sleeping pills), somnophilia, noncon (reader is asleep), unprotected s*x, creampie

word count: 2.4k

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

series: 1. infatuated | 2. obsessed | 3. addicted | 4. toxic | 5. feral

masterlist

a/n: toxic walking red flag stalker boyfriend Sukuna is back!! part 3 was meant to be the last part but I had more ideas soooo enjoy two more parts!!

Ryomen Sukuna has you.

You’re at your favourite coffee shop with Sukuna, your laptop and a strew of notes on the table as you cram for your final exam of the semester. Sukuna sits in the booth next to you, one arm casually slung over the back of the seating behind you as he scrolls his phone. His presence took a while to get used to, so big it’s almost suffocating, now it’s a reassuring block between you and the rest of the world. Even during the rare times he’s not with you, everyone knows – you’re Sukuna’s girlfriend. That���s enough to scare anyone off. Even your previous failed situationship stopped sending you “you up?” messages once he found out, instead sending you a quick “sorry” before blocking you.

You go to take a sip of coffee but realise it’s empty. Sukuna glances up as you make to stand up.

“Sit down. I got it.”

As you sink back to your seat, he presses a kiss to your temple and stands, sauntering over to the counter. You smile after him. You love that he does things for you without you needing to ask.

Sukuna has an uncanny ability to anticipate what you want or need, sometimes having it ready for you without you even saying anything. You remember the time you came home from a long, stressful day and he had your favourite takeout food waiting for you. When you asked him how he knew your favourite, or how he even knew you were having a bad day, he only shrugged and said, “Lucky guess.”

You suspect it’s something more than that but you’re just happy to be doted on. No one’s ever been this sweet to you, this infatuated, so you accept him without question.

When Sukuna returns with your coffee, you brush a light kiss across his lips and thank him.

Sukuna’s cock stirs as soon as your mouth touches his. He watches you as you study, pretending to look at his phone, admiring your profile. You really are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You don’t even need to do anything to get him going – a light touch or a chaste kiss is enough for his blood to rush straight down. Hell, you were sitting in your pyjamas eating peanut butter out of the jar the other day and even that made his cock hard.

He smothers a smile. Sukuna couldn’t be happier. He’s got you all to himself and even though he trusts you of course, sometimes he indulges in a little light stalking just to be sure. He knows you ignore other men when they try to talk to you and you’re always exactly where you say you are. Why wouldn’t you be? You’re perfect.

“Oh, I forgot to say,” you interrupt his train of thoughts and Sukuna looks up at you, smile on his face. “I’ve decided to come off the pill.”

Sukuna’s smile freezes.

“What’s that?” He makes sure his voice comes out casual if not a little strained.

“I’m coming off the pill. Actually, I’ve already come off it – it was messing with my head.” You turn away from your notes to look at him, smiling. “We’ll need to use condoms from now on, okay?”

Your sweet face is oblivious to the turmoil currently inside Sukuna. A condom? You want a physical barrier between you both? You want to take this beautiful, perfect thing between you and put a condom in the middle of it?

Sukuna has to fight not to crush his phone in his hand.

“Whatever, babe,” he manages to say.

You give him a relieved smile and squeeze his thigh before turning back to your notes. Behind you, Sukuna’s smile drops.

No. No, this is not happening. His brain churns as he processes this, a stab of anger in his chest. Do you not love him anymore? Is this the first step in breaking up? He shakes his head. A condom? He won’t get to feel the euphoria of your bodies joined together, not an inch between you. No more filling your sweet little cunt with his cum, watching it drip out of your used hole. Sukuna’s mouth goes dry at the thought.

Yeah, no. He’s going to have to do something about this.

You take a large gulp of your fresh coffee, giving your cheeks a light slap.

“This last exam is really doing a number on me,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “I need like five coffees a day just to stay awake.”

A lightbulb dings over Sukuna’s head. Oh, sweet, sweet you. You’ve given him the most perfect idea without even realising. A true smile crawls across Sukuna’s face as he reaches over to brush your hair from your neck.

“Don’t work too hard,” he coos. “You know I don’t like sharing your attention.”

You grin, assuming he’s joking. He’s not.

“I won’t be much longer, I promise,” you say. “And then we’ll go home, okay?”

Sukuna kisses your shoulder. His mood has lifted now an idea has formed in his head.

“Whatever you want,” he says, smiling. *

Sukuna orders the sleeping pills online from a less-than-reputable website, paying extra for next day delivery. It means he has to grit his teeth through one night of fucking you with a condom.

He tries his best not to let his displeasure show but you struggled to find a condom that would fit him and when you did, Sukuna only sank half his cock inside you. He came inside the plastic sack, throwing it away with disgust. The whole thing is less than satisfying.

But the promise of the next day keeps him going.

The pills arrive in a plain parcel while you’re out at class. Sukuna and you don’t live together yet but his place is bigger and more comfortable than your cramped shared space, so you spend a lot of time at his. He makes sure you’re out before the pills get delivered.

Sukuna knows he has to be patient. It’s not your fault you had to come off the pill – your health is important, after all. You’re precious to him and he doesn’t want you hurt. So he doesn’t blame you for that. But he’ll be damned if he has to suffer through condoms for the rest of his life with you.

He really has no choice.

Sukuna crushes up the sleeping pills, careful with the dosage, and when you arrive back home after class, he offers you a relaxing glass of spiked wine and your favourite dinner.

“You’re so sweet to me, ‘Kuna.” You kiss him, accepting the wine and food without argument.

You spend a nice evening together, watching TV as Sukuna rubs your feet. He keeps a careful eye on you and, sure enough, it’s not long before you start to yawn. A little while later, you’re nearly falling asleep on the sofa.

“You tired, babe?” Sukuna asks innocently.

You give a sleepy nod, apologising and saying you’re going to have an early night. Sukuna watches you pad into the bedroom, the lights switching off. Barely five minutes later, he can hear your soft snores.

He grins.

You’re always so predictable, so obedient, and it makes him love you all the more. Sukuna can’t believe how lucky he is to have you – his perfect girl.

Sukuna follows you to the bedroom, his cock already stirring. He’s bought the morning after pill to crush into your coffee for tomorrow. Tonight, he gets to feel you properly again.

He strips off before tugging the blanket off you. You’re out cold, spread-eagle and naked on the bed. Sukuna looks down at you fondly. It reminds him of when he snuck into your bedroom to taste you. The memory makes him smirk, knowing you’re still unaware that even happened.

Sukuna whispers your name a few times, shaking your shoulder. Your chest rises and falls gently but you don’t even make a noise. Truly dead to the world.

Satisfied, Sukuna situates himself between your legs, the mattress sinking under his weight. He takes a moment, drinking you in, and strokes himself a couple times to the sight of you. He loves every inch of your body, every divot and curve, every mark and mole. He wants to wrap his large arms around you and hold you to him and never, ever let you go.

Sukuna leans forward and gropes your tits first, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. It stiffens against his tongue as he plays with your other nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. He loves your tits, would touch them all day if you let him. He pulls back to see the marks he left on you a few days ago, your soft flesh peppered with bruises.

Sukuna trails his hand down your body, the silkiness of your skin in contrast to his calloused palms, before slipping his hand between your legs. He dips a finger between your folds and finds you slick with arousal. Your body is responding to him even while you’re asleep. The thought makes his heart swell almost as much as his cock.

He sinks a finger deeper inside you, feeling your hole stretch around him. You barely move but your brows scrunch slightly as he finds your sensitive spot and strokes it softly.

“That’s it, baby,” Sukuna murmurs, watching the slight change in your face. He can feel you getting wetter, getting ready for him. “That’s my girl.”

Sukuna withdraws before pushing two of his thick fingers inside you. His thumb rubs your clit as he fingers you, encouraging your orgasm. He knows you need to cum at least once to be able to fit all of him in and he’s more than happy to get you there. You don’t make a sound but your breathing quickens. Sukuna’s gaze moves between your breasts, jiggling hypnotically with every sharp inhale you take and your cunt, where he can see your hole stretched around his fingers.

Sukuna curves his fingers to reach your little bundle of nerves and it’s enough to undo you, even unconscious. You groan softly as Sukuna draws an orgasm from you. He feels your walls quivering around his fingers and the anticipation of feeling you around his cock again is almost too much.

When Sukuna’s satisfied you’re done, he withdraws his fingers and aligns his cock with your entrance. He nudges the tip past your lips, now puffy with arousal, until he can feel the resistance of your hole. You’re spread so beautifully in front of him, so pliant in your sleep, more than anything he wants to slam himself fully inside you.

But he won’t. Sukuna loves you, he doesn’t want to hurt you. He wants you to feel as good as him. No, he needs you to. Needs you to need him, even when you’re not awake. He needs it so badly, he’ll do whatever he has to.

Sukuna leans forward over you, supporting himself on his arms, and slowly pushes inside you.

He’ll never get bored of the initial resistance of your sweet little pussy. The way your hole immediately grips him, pulling him deeper inside. Sukuna pushes in deeper, just a few inches, and lets out a sigh that’s half pleasure, half relief.

You feel so hot around him, so soft. There’s nothing that compares to this, to the feel of your bodies connecting as his cock reaches inside the most intimate part of you. Sukuna shallowly pumps in and out of you, watching your face. You look angelic, your hair splayed out around you like a halo, your face so peaceful even as Sukuna sinks his cock inside you.

Your needy hole pulls him in, coating his girth in your slick. Sukuna works himself deeper, the muscles in his arms taut as he holds himself back until he knows you’re ready. He’s almost there, just a few inches left, but he needs to give you some time to adjust.

To make sure he can go deeper, Sukuna readjusts his position slightly, pulling your thighs up until they’re resting on top of his. It angles your hips up slightly, giving him better access, making sure he’ll be able to bottom out.

Sukuna lowers himself onto his forearms, automatically wanting to kiss you before realising you can’t kiss back. The thought is frustrating. Instead, he busies his mouth with your neck and tits, sucking fresh marks into the skin. It’s risky but he hopes you won’t notice the new marks amongst the old ones and he can't resist nibbling at your plush flesh.

As Sukuna sucks and nibbles your tits, he starts to rock his hips again. Your pussy welcomes him, letting him stroke deeper until he bottoms out. He feels your lips touch the base of his cock and can’t stop himself from groaning, deep and long.

“So perfect,” he murmurs. “My perfect girl.”

Sukuna keeps rolling his hips. The friction of your slick walls against his cock is intoxicating.

“You get so wet for me, baby,” he whispers. “You love it raw, don’t you? You love my raw cock stuffed in your little hole.”

Condoms. What a ridiculous idea. There's nothing better than this, better than your skin on his, feeling every inch of you until there's no secrets you can hold that he doesn't already know.

Sukuna picks up his pace, pushing himself back up onto his arms so he can watch you bounce under the force of his thrusts. The sound of your sopping cunt fills the room, like music to Sukuna’s ears. He knows he’ll never fuck you with a condom again, never put a barrier between you. He’ll never give up this feeling, the way your needy pussy massages his cock, desperate for his cum.

Your walls start to clench around him and Sukuna realises he’s about to make you cum again. The thought spurs him on and he fucks you harder, slamming himself into you hard enough that he knows you'd be crying his name if you were awake.

“That’s it, baby, cum on my cock,” he grunts, nearing his own orgasm. “Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Sukuna gives one last thrust before spilling his seed inside you, filling you to the brim. He stays where he is for a few moments longer, catching his breath, before pulling out. He sits back, reaching between your legs to spread your aching lips, watching his cum spill out of your hole.

Sukuna scoops up some with a finger before leaning forward to smear it across your lips, smirking. How he’d love to watch you suck it from his fingers but he’ll leave that for another time.

Sukuna checks your breathing, makes sure you’re still okay, before cleaning you up. He softly presses a warm, damp cloth to your well-used pussy, cleaning both your juices. You did so well for him tonight and he wants to treat you gently.

When he’s finished, Sukuna climbs into bed next to you, draping you across his chest. His body is relaxed and he closes his eyes with a satisfied smile. He reminds himself to slip you the morning after pill tomorrow.

And then a little voice at the back of his head asks him – what if he didn’t?

masterlist

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Taglist: @bravinskly

[dearest-tobio]

“out of us three, i never thought atsumu would get married first.”

miya osamu turns to face you, approaching him with two glasses in hand. he steals a second to admire you in the wisps of moonlight—you looked ethereal, always have been, but tonight most particularly. osamu rolls his eyes as he takes the glass from you, part disdain, part cheeky happiness for his brother.

“yep. never would’ve thought someone would want ta be with that idiot.”

you laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “give him some credit, ‘samu.”

it is but a nickname, one that you’ve called osamu since you were kids, but it still yields the power to soar his heart into the clouds. 

“‘tsumu’s always been a charmer,” you continue, “getting confessions left and right.”

“i remember that one time, that girl from another class? she mistook you for ‘tsumu and ran away after she gave you a bunch of snacks along with a sappy love letter.”

osamu snorts, recalling all the instances that he was mistaken for his twin. growing up, they had similar hairstyles and interests. it was no surprise that people had a hard time differentiating between them. 

maybe that was part of the reason why atsumu chose to dye his hair piss blonde as a first-year. of course osamu was roped into it, but he chose an unassuming grey finish instead. ma didn’t receive the change very well—she was angry for weeks—but osamu always thought it was worth it because of you. 

he still remembers the first time you saw him with grey hair, bubbling worry in anticipation to what you’ll say. you noticed atsumu’s new style first, mocking his ridiculous shade in front of the whole team. even kita-san cracked a smile as you hurled insult after insult, immune to atsumu’s whines about how it was fashionably empowering.

“so did ‘samu get his hair done t—oh.”

your eyes met osamu’s, and you float over to him across the hard vinyl floor. your hand reached out across the air to brush the strands on the side of his head. in that moment, osamu realises he’s never felt so raw, so exposed. logic snaps at him to get himself together, but your touch was intoxicating. what was he thinking?

“you look good, ‘samu.” your soft smile is ingrained instantly in his head, as well as the words that follow after: “grey suits you.”

osamu brings himself back to the present, with only you and the cool night air for company. the wedding party inside is still going strong, but out here is a world of its own. out here, it’s quiet, and out here it’s only the two of you.

“you know, ‘samu. i’ve always wondered why you didn’t date back in high school up ’til now. i betted on you tying the knot first.” 

all words seem to die in osamu’s throat—how can he explain that it’s you? it’s always been you? you, who stuck through all the late night cramming sessions. you, who came to each and every volleyball game. you, who stood by him at every hurdle that came at onigiri miya, until his onigiris were renowned all over hyogo.

he doesn’t want to imagine the day you text excitedly in the groupchat about someone you’ve met, the first date, and the second, and the third. he can’t place himself in that position, not now, not ever. but he keeps his secret to himself, for one more night. for the foreseeable future.

“i don’t know,” he replies. “guess i haven’t found that someone yet.”

masterlist

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

complicated feelings about book 7

Hey, hello, hi!!

I’ve been having a lot of thoughts and feelings about the direction the main story is going in ever since 7-100. I wanted to wait until the hype for the book 7 part 9 and anticipating part 10 settled down a bit before I made this post, as I wouldn’t want to impede anyone’s excitement for it—and now that time has come.

While I wouldn’t say I’m being entirely negative or harsh in this post (I’d say I’m being “worried” in my critique at most), I’d caution you to avoid it if you think it would upset you or mess with your enjoyment of the main story, especially knowing that the book 7 part 10 update is coming later in August.

Thank you for your time ^^ and without further ado…

I started to feel iffy about how the story is going around the part Idia wakes up. At the time, I remained optimistic and brushed it off. However, the inkling I had then has since magnified, especially with the recent Scarabia update.

What is that issue with, you may ask?

The dream hopping and waking segments.

They feel so… for lack of a better term, dissatisfying?? Rushed?? I don’t know, but I’m left still feeling like (just as Ariel says) I want more. I was hype when they first happened, but with each new update, I let myself sit with what happened for a few days and, thinking back on it, problems start to arise.

Don't get me wrong, I'm NOT saying that these segments are lame or that they don't make sense. I love being able to delve into the dreams and see a ton of novel yet absurd things, and I love how genius Idia's plan is. It makes sense narratively and I, of course, appreciate being able to see the dreamscapes and the desires of so many beloved characters. BUT... The problems primarily come down to pacing and the overabundance of contrivances.

The set-up itself is elaborate but also keeps piling up more “but also we need to do THIS” details that seem to overcomplicate things or act as red herrings. Silver’s UM itself is already warranting an explanation, then we got Idia’s video presentation, now we have to account for leaving people and hologram projections behind… all for the sake of limiting how many people travel to the dreams because OH YEAH we also need to consider Malleus catching on. It’s contrived for the sake of the narrative giving everyone a chance in the spotlight before the Big Finale. The universe has to dedicate so much time to explaining how this is feasible or why people need to stay behind in order to justify the pacing and to avoid an increasingly growing group from competing for attention. We spent SO long on just exploring Lilia's dream that the shift to waking up all these other characters seems so much quicker by comparison. It's natural that we can only devote so much time to each character (since we have so many students to collect), but it also results in some people feeling very rushed or not fully realized. For example, Epel only gets 5 parts dedicated to his turn-around but Kalim gets 8. This variance naturally occurs as some dreams are less serious than others, but despite this it still leans into some non-OB boys getting more of the spotlight than others. Additionally, we also see very uneven distribution of lines across individual segments. There is so much information crammed into some parts (like 140 and 141) while other parts are pathetically sparse and not much happens.

When it comes to the OB boys, they of course get longer segments than the others, so it doesn't feel as bad. However, I think the OB boys come with other issues... Namely the "resolutions" to their battles against their OB forms. Not only is there a formula to how they are woken up (which makes things less exciting compared to not really knowing what happens in the main story except for OB boy at the end), but there's also a part carved out for them to give a big speech about how they've changed or how they'll move on from the past, etc. This is especially true of Jamil, who probably had the longest speech of the OB boys thus far.

Now yes, I know it's an anime trope to give speeches (particularly for TWST, which primarily tells its story via dialogue). But does it have to be so... blatant??? Like, the OB boys are usually alone or just trapped with their inner darkness in these moments. Who exactly are they announcing their character change to? It does not feel diegetic at all. This is a lot of telling and not as much showing. That contrasts with the character development we saw in book 6; at least there the OB boys were paired up with other people, so there was someone to bounce off of and butt heads with. It feels like they're having a conversation, actually bonding with their peers, and learning from those tough interactions. (In fact, I would argue that book 6 did this growth in a much better paced and more cohesive manner.) In the dreams of book 7, the interactions have to be shared among several other students and they have to be so much shorter as a result of that.

What we’re seeing in book 7 is character growth we already knew about, but told to us in a more overt way. We are not learning anything new. Waking people in book 7 involves a lot of flashbacks to events that already played out, so rather than any real development being made, it's returning people to the state they were in before (since that "change" was in the process of occurring in the real world).

It feels like book 7 is trying hard to follow through with all the promises the earlier books built up to. And, quite honestly, many of these emotional conversations (like Kalim and Jamil shouting at each other about their flaws) NEEDED to happen. I just don't know if this was the appropriate context for it, because it comes off as an ultimatum or an ending to a story that had so much more left to say.

The way these book 7 segments are framed, the students "waking" is meant to mark a pivotal moment in their development. I worry what this means, because the dialogue is very... resolute? Especially for the OB boys. And them announcing how they've changed out loud rather than in a more subtle way (like Kalim saying he is 'frustrated' but not being able to explain why in book 4, Leona saying that Jamil is "not like him" in book 6; implying that there is hope for Jamil but not for himself, etc.)... It gives the impression that this is the "end" of their character arcs, that their growth is now "complete", even if that wasn’t the intention. I don't feel like that's how character development works?????? It's never really "done", it's a continuous and ongoing thing, so the vibes of it feel a little off. I would have liked it more if it were open-ended or at least vaguer. Still hopeful, but vaguer. These are meant to be triumphant moments, yet I don't get that feeling because it's very repetitive at this point. I've pointed out many patterns myself, and that makes future installments VERY predictable and boring aside from the actual dream settings we visit. We have 11 more students to hit up. E L E V E N. That's SO many. Do you realize how far away that is????? I even ran the numbers:

Idia spans 109 - 116 (7 parts)

Epel spans 120 - 124 (5 parts)

Rook spans 125 - 131 (7 parts)

Vil spans 133 - 139 (8 parts)

Kalim spans 140 - 147 (8 parts)

Jamil spans 148 - 157 (10 parts)

That means, on average, it takes 7.5 parts for each character to wake up. With 11 characters left to do, that means we have at LEAST 82.5 parts left (spread across 3 updates, one for Octavinelle, one for Savanaclaw, and one for Heartslabyul). With the current 157 parts out, that means book 7 is going on until at least part like 240... AND WE STILL HAVE A TON LEFT TO WRAP UP, like Yuu going home, Grim OB, Crowley's intentions, the mystery of Raverne’s disappearance, the truth behind Mickey and Yuu’s connection, beating the crap out of OB Malleus, etc. Book 7 is dragging on for a while, and the novelty of each dreamscape can only last for so long before the same old pesky problems creep in again 💀 The pacing is so weird; it simultaneously feels too long and yet also not long enough. Not only that, but because there are so many other characters to collect, it is robbing Diasomnia and Ignihyde of THEIR promised screen time in the second half of the book.

A lesser issue I had was the weird... tonal whiplash? The dream segments are largely silly and they spend a lot of them goofing around with the explanation of having to "investigate" the dreamer's weak point and hitting on that to wake them. (This complaint runs counter to the pacing issues I mentioned earlier; cutting down on the time spent being silly means we'd be rushing the story, but not having silly parts means dragging the story out. It's hard to really balance the two.) Here I am sitting here and thinking 1) there is NO sense of urgency, 2) what a waste of time, and 3) what a wasted opportunity for Yuu.

I'm not a huge game!Yuu fan; I see them as a blank slate for self-inserting, and since I'm not someone who likes to self-insert, Yuu has little to no value to me and just serves primarily as a vehicle to have things exposited to them and as a POV character. But hey, if the story wants to stress Yuu is important and helps these characters change, then why not do it here??????? There's so few times when they actually do something of importance in the main story (with perhaps their most involved points being books 3 and 4, maybe 6 when they took the initiative to go free their friends/rescue Grim).

A lot of it honestly feels like wasted time since most characters outside of the dorm leader do not change in significant way or in less serious manners. It really falls flat because Yuu largely did not do anything to influence those extra characters, let alone the OB boys.

While talking with a friend, they suggested that non-OB boy sequences could have been relegated to vignettes to go with limited story cards (that way TWST could have more banners, assuming one for each character) or as free bonus side-content that unlocks as an optional thing similar to how the collecting wishes worked in Wish Upon a Star; they are not essential. It feels like they were obligatorily thrown in as fanservice before the big closing. The narrative would have still worked and we would get to the point faster if we limited the main story componeny to just the necessary people (Ignihyde + OB boys).

Another potential route: if you insist on hitting up all the characters before the end, why not give Yuu a chance to DO SOMETHING in book 7 since they're the only person in the wake-up crew to have interacted with all these people we're trying to wake up? The only one who has experienced detailed and prophetic dreams associated with the OB boys???? The one who has been tasked with investigating and resolving various students' issues around campus? Why not let Yuu take the lead in discovering the best method to wake each boy up? Then we'd at least get character development on Yuu's part, get to see how Yuu is positively influencing the boys, and it cuts down on the down time of wandering in circles and making no meaningful progress.

*takes a deep breath*

Anyway, those are my thoughts 💦 I would like to reiterate that I do NOT "hate" book 7, I just disagree with the pacing and how they've decided to write in waking up the characters for this current stretch of it. It's no doubt a daunting task and I'm sure the writers are all doing their very best... I don't know if the end product managed to achieve what it wanted to for me though. It’s tiring and repetitive (like bouncing up and down on a roller coaster that cannot decide how it wants to go and leaves you no time to recover/catch your breath), and I’m left still feeling unsatisfied and wanting more.

Theoretically, I like the ideas but not the execution of them… I can only hope that the pacing improves for future updates (especially with the Octa update on the way and attempting to shake up the formula by introducing two story SSRs instead of one), or that book 7 can at least end strongly with that final battle.

[ammoniteblue]

Not a Hero, Just an Author (p.2)

kenji sato x reader

Her latest novel a flop, Y/N is starting to worry she wasn’t meant to be an author. She’s 24, lives alone and most of her college friends are either married or in more traditional jobs. she feels like she’s being left behind. That is until a charming baseball player finds his way into her life and shows Y/N that it takes more than talent to be a star.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

At first the baseball card was left on your bedside table. But as you realised that night, after getting back from Mr. Ozami’s Ramen Shop, you couldn’t sleep with it so close to you. If you opened an eye you’d see it, sitting there atop the table. Then all thoughts of sleep evaded you. It was almost impossible not replay the events of the night over and over in you mind.

Kenji. His easy grin. The way his jacket hung just right off his shoulders.

so like any coward, you hid it. Pushed into a drawer crammed full of notebooks and stray pieces of paper. You left it there in your office, hidden within your desk and finally managed to sleep.

For two days the card sat in that drawer, hidden, out of sight out of mind.

Why an ordinary schmuck like you wasn’t jumping at the chance to call a legendary athlete like Kenji Sato you would never know. A million girls would kill to have his number and yet you….you couldn’t even bare to look at it.

But why ?

For those two days you did nothing but watch old reruns of his games. Ones of him in America, playing for the LA Dodgers, all dressed up in white and blue. He wore that same easy going smirk when he played too. Like he knew no matter what that he’d win.

Something in your keened for that kind of confidence. Most people would be jealous of Kenji for his wealth, his fame….his good looks. Not you. what you wanted was his confidence. how, when millions of people were watching him, did he look so carefree ?

Kenji was right. Maybe he’d just make a baseball fan out of you yet. When watching his reruns got boring you changed to interviews. They were always solo, usually him and some pretty female reporter.

A nasty green feeling curled up in your stomach as you watched the way he chuckled and smiled, tilting his head in an easy but flirty manner.

Arrogant asshole. Stupidly hot arrogant asshole.

On the second night your older sister called. she never rang your phone, always the landline. nobody ever used it and most of the time you forgot it was there until Ami rang for your weekly catch up.

She didn’t live far, only thirty minutes on the metro, but with her full time job as a reporter and status as a single mum she was usually busy. Of course you went over to help whenever you could, but lately you’d been avoiding her and therefore Chiho too.

You couldn’t admit to your powerhouse big sister, who had it all, that your book had been a flop. that you and Sana were desperately trying to secure a movie or tv show deal in hopes of recuperating your losses.

Yes a show or movie would put you on the map, give you the status of a serious author, but it would also mean some hollywood exec tearing your baby apart and turning it into some dark, sexy CW series.

Your heartwarming story of a boy’s struggles through adulthood, as he comes to terms with his new powers and what they mean, made into the next Riverdale. You’d rather die.

Oh the shame.

“Y/N you need to call back mum, she’s worried about you.” Immediately Ami is hounding you over the phone.

with a sigh you respond, “yes Ami, it’s nice to hear from you too.”

“we’re just worried about you. lately you’ve been so distant. we miss you. Chiho misses you, she keeps asking where her auntie is.” Her words cut straight to your heart.

A pang of guilt hits your stomach as you imagine Chiho’s sad wide eyes asking where you are. That was a dirty move on Ami’s side.

“Things are just…” you scramble for an excuse, “busy. yeah i’ve got some book stuff and…..and there’s this guy.”

wait what ? why the fuck did you say that ?

“a guy ?” your sister asked.

oh shit well no going back now.

“um yeah a guy. he’s nice ?” you almost sounded questioning.

there was a pause before Ami made a sound of excitement.

“That’s amazing Y/N ! i’m so happy for you. you’ve got to bring him over, mum would love to meet him. we all would.”

you knew that was code for “as your big sis i need to vet this guy and make sure he’s good enough for you”.

two minutes later and you found yourself promising to bring this mystery guy over soon along with returning your mums anxious calls.

“we love you Y/N, please don’t forget that.”

After she hung up you sat there for a minute. It was dark out and if not for the light from the TV the living room would’ve been submerged in complete darkness. Another interview was playing, an old one. Kenji couldn’t have been older than 20. A college graduate recruited to play baseball full time. He looked so happy, the kind of energy only young people have. when they’re still full of hope, before the world has smashed it into pieces.

once upon a time you looked like that. maybe in those weeks just after your first book deal. fresh out of university and the promise of bright career in writing.

As you watched him, you replayed the conversation with your sister over in your head. she’d sounded so worried. they both did, her and mum. something had to change. you needed to do something, anything to fix this funk you’d fallen into.

maybe that’s why you walked out of the living room and into your study.

The desk drawer slid open easily and inside the baseball card gleamed up at you. You reached in, picked it up and then grabbed your phone from your back pocket.

Ten digits later, your phone rang and after several seconds of intense silence there was a voice.

“Hey Kenji speaking.” It was him, really him. “umm hello ? if this is that guy from the gossip magazine then please f-“

“It’s the girl from the ramen shop, Mr. Ozami’s.” You quickly interrupt.

Kenji goes silent, the threat dying on his tongue.

“Oh.” Is all he says.

“Yeah.” you mumble in response.

Theres another awkward silence.

“So…” He starts

“So…” You repeat.

For an international heartthrob, Kenji Sato is surprinsgly not that smooth. Just like you he’s unsure of what to say, and for the first time the baseball icon seems a little human to you. it’s what gives you the confidence to speak first.

“I watched some of your games.” You try, unable to fight the heat rushing to your cheeks.

was that weird ? was admitting you’d watched him play weird ?

There’s a laugh over the phone that puts all your worries to rest.

“Really ? i thought you said you didn’t like baseball ?” He asks, amused.

“Oh i still don’t, but i wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” You respond boldly, almost flirty.

“And ?” He prompts.

from over the phone you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“And i thought you were pretty good.” You can’t help the smile that pulls at your mouth as he makes an unbecoming noise.

“pretty good ? i think you mean the best babe.”

oh. OH.

Suddenly the pyjamas you’re wearing felt too tight, too hot. you slipped off the couch and padded over to a window, opening it to let in a fresh night breeze.

“I-I mean,” you try to school your voice, “sure you’re good but the best ? that might be a stretch.”

Oh good lord why did you say that ? Why was your go to defence insults ?

“Well if you need some proof why don’t you come to a game ?” His proposition catches you completely off guard.

“a game ?” you’d never been to a baseball game.

how much were the tickets ? You weren’t exactly very liquid right now. yes the advance on your latest book had been quite a lot but with it not hitting its sale targets you’d had to make a few setbacks. no excessive shopping, no eating out - Mr. Ozami’s was an exception - no travelling. A baseball game sounded expensive. could you afford the tickets ?

“Yeah, i’ll send you a ticket,” and then cockily adds, “don’t worry i’ll make sure you have a good view.”

You breath out a small laugh. It was a tempting offer. A free ticket, the chance to experience something new and watch cute men run around a field in tight pants. What was not to like. Maybe this was what you needed to get you out of that funk.

“Okay,” you found yourself responding, “that would be nice. thank you.”

there’s a chuckle over the phone and like that you figure the call is coming to an end until Kenji adds:

“But on one condition.”

So close.

“What’s that ?” You try to sound normal.

“You let me take you out.”

three days later

The new Tokyo Stadium was a magnificent piece of architecture. it had only opened a few months ago but you’d yet to see it. with a book tour and signings and fan events you hadn’t had the time to walk around the city like you used to.

Dressed up in your nicest pair of jeans and a Giants jersey you’d bought just for this game, you joined the back of one of the ticket booth queues.

Kenji had sent you an E-ticket right after your call. since then whenever you went onto your phone you’d checked to see if it was still there. the sight of it was a confirmation that this was real. the Kenji Sato had not only given you his number, invited you to a game but had asked you out on a date. you turning up to this was basically confirmation that yes you wanted to go.

A date with Kenji Sato.

What was happening to your life.

Since that night you’d itched to call your sister, to tell her what was going on. But you couldn’t. Ami was so practical, she followed her head over her heart. if she found out she would tell you to drop it. that Kenji Sato was a known flirt who was scared of commitment and would leave you high and dry. He wasn’t the dating type. Not at least according to the hundreds of magazines and articles you’d spent the last few days reading.

it was all there. his long, slightly hazardous, dating history. models and musicians. beautiful women with no body fat and immaculate skin. the kinds of girls that you see online or in magazines. you couldn’t be further from them.

What on earth did Kenji Sato see in you ? A small time author with a minor online following and, according to one very cruel article in the Tokyo Post, a dying career.

Ami would tell you to quit while you’re ahead, before you’ve gone on a date with this guy and inevitably let him charm you into submission.

But Ami wasn’t here and you were in too deep now.

The lady at the ticket booth scanned your ticket and then you were in. it was unlike anything you’d ever seen. The stadium rippled with noise. hundreds of thousands of fans filled it, filing into seats, calling out for hot dogs and beers from the uriko girls.

like you many people wore Giants jerseys. Children and women and men. some had orange face paint strewn across their cheeks.

suddenly you felt less self conscious about the jersey you were wearing. nobody would glance at you and think you’d never been to a game before let alone not know a thing about the sport or rules.

it took you a while to find your seat. you walked further and further into the stadium, eyes scanning the rows for the letter A. it wasn’t till you were right at the front that you found it. to your surprise, your seat was just above the dugout, giving you a clear view of the home plate.

not only had Kenji Sato bought you a ticket, he’d bought you maybe one of the best seats in the whole place.

There was a buzz in your back pocket. you reached for your phone.

enjoy the show

Kenji.

As you stated at the message, biting back a grin, a sudden chorus of cheers shook the stadium. around you people had jumped to their feet, hoisting posters and foam fingers high into the air. the people next to you, a little girl and her mum, were jumping up and down in excitement. the little girl held a poster in her hands and with one quick glance you realised it was of Kenji.

You turned to look at the field and suddenly it made sense. There waltzing up to the home plate was the man himself.

Kenji Sato.

His white jersey gleamed in the midday sun. the number seven printed on the back in big block lettering. a baseball bat hung almost carelessly in his left hand. you were sure that under that helmet he was wearing the most obnoxious grin possible.

The Kenji Sato show was live.

As he strolled up to the home plate, he turned to wave at the crowds. what a showboater. it worked though. another round of cheers rippled through the crowds, so loud it almost made you wince. the little girl was nearly crying with excitement next to you.

You cheered along too, a little unsure of yourself. it wasn’t like you’d ever done this before. Then to your absolute horror, Kenji Sato glanced across the crowd until he locked eyes with you.

Had he been looking for you ?

He must have, because as soon as he saw you his grin grew even bigger. a look of absolute smugness. He gave you a once over, something unmistakable flashing across his face as he saw the jersey you were wearing. it had been a coincidence, you picking out the number seven jersey. Until now you hadn’t realised it was his jersey. did he think you’d done it on purpose ?

Oh my god he did.

There was a self assured smirk on his face as he gave you one last look before turning to batter up. An almost unnatural silence fell over the stadium. everyone waited with baited breath, about to witness for the first time Kenji Sato batting in the Japanese League.

The pitcher swung his arm back and the ball sailed through the air.

To your surprise and everybody else’s Kenji missed. The ball went square into the catcher’s mitt. You’d watched enough of his games to know Kenji rarely missed a ball. maybe it was nerves ? His first game on a new team, in a new country. anyone would be nervous. But then he missed the second time and from your seat you could catch the way his hand flew to his shoulder, as if in pain.

Then the catcher said something, what exactly you couldn’t hear. But judging by Kenji’s reaction it wasn’t anything good. You watched with wide eyes as the batter levelled up to the catcher, his bat almost held like a weapon. The pair were almost chest to chest until the umpire stepped in. there was a final heated exchange before Kenji returned to bat. Then to everyone’s surprise he swapped sides, changing to his right hand to bat.

A series of quiet murmurs, sceptical and surpised words, rippled through the crowds. Did this not happen often ? You weren’t entirely sure what was going on. But judging by the confused looks around you Kenji was about to do something unprecedented in baseball.

All you could do was watch as the pitcher made his final throw. the ball flew through the air. the silence had never been thicker, and then with a speed so intense you nearly missed it, Kenji swung the bat back. there was contact. an almost cracking sound and the ball was sent soaring into the opposite direction.

the crowd roared with approval. the noise shook the stadium and to your surprise you found yourself up on your feet cheering along with them.

“Go Kenji !” You cried, almost jumping up and down as he ran each base.

A victorious grin had broken out on his face, and as he returned to home base he glanced up at you. Suddenly you felt self conscious stood there, hands in the air your cheeks flushed. But then he winked at you and something electric and light and fluttering soared through your chest.

He was incredible.

And then the Kaiju appeared.

is she the queen of cliffhangers or what ?? stay tuned for part three !! also if people are confused about why the reader seems to contradict herself a lot it’s meant to show how she’s an unreliable narrator, and like can’t see that she’s doing better than she thinks.

[yelenaslyubov]

You’re Mine

main masterlist || yelena belova || requests

requested anonymously

a/n: here i am finally with another story!! i’m sorry it took so long, i’ve been going through it a bit and trying to find motivation again. this definitely isn’t my best work, but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy :)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ pairing: yelena belova x fem!reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ warnings: MINORS DNI (18+) smut, language, daddy kink, alcohol, reader receiving, jealousy

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ description: it is New Year’s Eve, and of course the one and only Tony Stark does not miss a chance to impress with a party. you attend this party under the impression it would be just like every other event, but you are soon proved wrong after you make a mistake to talk to Kate Bishop. your girlfriend sees your encounter from afar and chooses to deal with your wrongdoing in her own way… but do you learn your lesson?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ word count: 2k

You watched the numbers increase on the small screen above you. The elevator whirled up an extensive amount of floors and you could hear music and voices getting louder as you reached the top. To top it off, you had to listen to lousy jazz music all the way up.

The elevator jolted to a stop and the noise right outside of the doors indicated the size of the group waiting on the other side.

You inhaled deeply and adjusted your clothing nervously. This was the last party of the season and you were all but happy. Parties and holidays brought out the worst in Yelena and you were ready for them to be over. Parties in particular were a sore spot and she had been acting childish as of lately.

She was easily irritated, didn’t engage in conversation much, wanting to leave early, and most importantly—her jealousy was through the roof.

Recently there were new recruits who have been hanging around more and getting to know everyone. Yelena isn’t the friendly type, especially when it comes to other people talking to you. Of course, you were simply trying to be nice while Yelena thought of it as a threat.

You assumed tonight would be no different.

As the elevator doors eased open the sounds were almost deafening. You couldn’t tell if everyone’s voices or the music was louder, either way you had a difficult time adjusting from the tiresome elevator tunes.

You should’ve known that New Year’s Eve would be a hit at the Avengers Tower, but somehow you thought everyone would be down in Time Square observing the annual ball drop. It was only an hour until midnight so there was still time.

“Hey… y/n!”

You see a hand waving through the crowd but can’t quite make out who it is.

From in between two individuals, Peter emerges panting. “Hey! I was trying to get your attention, but it’s kinda hard with all these people.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Hey, Pete. How long have you been up here?”

“Well if you’re talking about how long I’ve been up here at the party, it’s been about 2 hours…if you’re talking about how long I’ve been up here in general…all day.”

“Peter, why on earth have you been up here all day?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “You see, Sam said—”

“That’s all I need to know,” you stopped Peter. “Anyway, have you seen Yelena around here at all?”

“Last time I saw her she was over by the bar.”

You tried to see over the mass of people crammed into the room, but it was no luck.

“Damn, there’s too many people to tell. Thanks anyways, Pete.”

You slithered past sweaty bodies to make your way over to the bar in hopes of finding Yelena there. Even after all that work, Yelena was nowhere near the bar, but there was another friendly face waiting there.

“Hey, Kate,” you greeted her.

Kate smiled back with warm cheeks. “What’s up!”

“Not much,” you responded while sitting down on the stool next to her, “just enjoying another party.”

“You sound entirely enthusiastic about it, I can see,” Kate says.

“Oh yeah, I just live for these parties. I’m definitely not tired of them after the last 5 we’ve had.”

“I’m going to agree with you on that.”

You asked the bartender for a drink to pass the time as you sat with Kate.

“How have you been liking the tower?” you asked Kate as you sipped your drink.

“It’s definitely a change of pace. Working independently out on the field versus being here with the Avengers… it’s wicked cool!” Her excitement makes you smile, remembering the time when you first were recruited.

“Don’t get too excited, sometimes you miss working alone,” you chuckle.

There was an awkward silence after your last comment, which made you think that Kate might take it the wrong way. “Don’t get me wrong, I love working in teams, but sometimes independent work helps clear your mind.”

“Makes sense… does that have anything to do with Yelena?”

You jolt your head up. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, for one, Yelena is usually the only one you go out on missions with, and two, she’s staring at you like you killed Fanny.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as you turn to face the horror Kate warned you about. Kate wasn’t exaggerating. Yelena looked as if you had just committed the crime of the century.

“Is everything alright between the two of you?” Kate asked, apprehensively.

Your eyes never left Yelena while talking to Kate. “I’m not too sure now…I’m going to have to catch up with you later.”

You left Kate at the bar as you made your way over to Yelena’s watching eyes. The closer you got to her, the more your nerves overcame you. You weren’t sure what her problem was or what you did, and you didn’t want to suffer through the consequences of her anger—especially not tonight.

You were facing her now up close, letting the music pound into your eardrums while she slowly sipped on her drink. “Fun party, right?” Yelena yelled.

“Not really.” You stared at her once again, hoping she might elaborate on her previous death stare.

“No? Hmm, that’s too bad, I’m having a great-”

“Yelena, cut the act.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“I don’t know anything.” She smirked, but not the good kind of smirk. It was the kind of smirk where you know you had either fucked up or she did something awful.

“What did you do?” you asked.

“I didn’t do anything.” Her emphasis gave you all the clues you needed.

“Then what did I do?”

Yelena didn’t answer. She kept standing there taking small, occasional sips of her drink, almost as if the conversation was just as meaningless as the party.

“Yelena, I’m not doing this here.”

“Well, then let’s find somewhere else to do it then.”

You didn’t like her attitude at all, but you also didn’t want to leave the conversation unfinished. You looked around behind Yelena to see one of the many hallways they could sneak off to. You grabbed Yelena’s hand and pulled her down the hallway into a room.

“Is this satisfactory for you?” you asked, matching her attitude.

Yelena looked around the closet you managed to find. “It’s a bit small, but-”

“Oh, would you stop it!”

“No!” Yelena placed her hand firmly around your neck, slamming you against the closet door. “You stop it!”

You looked at her in shock. This wasn’t to say that this gesture was out of the ordinary from Yelena, but it was her ability to shut down so quickly that took you by surprise.

“You’ve been acting like a little slut lately,” she sternly said. Yelena could tell you were confused by her accusation. “Aw, you need help remembering how you embarrassed daddy?”

You tried to move your head forward to release Yelena’s right grip from your neck. “Yelena-” you started, but your head was pressed against the door once again.

“Don’t you know you don’t get to talk to other girls?” She moved her lips closer to your ear. “Don’t you know you’re mine, baby?” she whispered so delicately into your ear, your hair standing on edge.

Kate.

Yelena must have seen the realization written all over your face. You had been cutting it up with Kate while you were waiting to find Yelena. Little did you know, Yelena had been observing the two of you for a short time.

“Yelena, it’s not what it looks like,” you whispered.

“Oh, it’s not? Because it looked like you were interested in messing around with someone else, hmm?”

“No, that's not-”

“Ah ah,” she tuts. “I don’t want to hear excuses, baby…prove it to me.”

Your chest tightened. “Prove… what?”

Yelena smirked at you while her hand traced down the front of your frame. Her fingers ever so delicately slipped under the band of your pants.

“Yelena…” You could tell there was no stopping her from what she aimed to get from you.

“I want you,” she started, pausing while pushing her fingers past the barrier of your underwear, “to prove I’m yours.”

You were eye to eye now. Yelena’s eyes hung lazily with lust and revenge. She wanted to make you squirm… make you pay for how you made her feel.

She started rubbing gently against your clit, just enough to tease you. “Say it… ‘I’m yours.’”

“Yelena, please…”

“Say it!” she said, getting impatient. Her mouth was brushing against your ear, her breath hot against your skin. She bit your ear gently, hoping that you would make any kind of noise to grab her attention.

“I-I’m yours,” you whispered.

“That’s not loud enough, I can’t hear you.” With her words she picked up pace.

“I’m yours,” you moaned. You grabbed onto the wall in preparation for your legs to give out very soon. You even found yourself moving your hips against Yelena’s hand, your body craving her touch even more.

But you were angry with her. You were angry that Yelena was angry over nothing. This wasn’t unusual, which was the frustrating part, but you couldn’t help but drown in pleasure. Though it wasn’t Yelena’s intention to put you in a better mood, it was working either way.

“Such a good girl riding my fingers for me, but I want you to keep going. You can’t cum until I tell you to, baby.” The more she edged you on it only made you come closer to the edge.

In addition, you suddenly became aware of how loud you were being. You gained consciousness and were afraid everyone could hear you.

What if they notice you’re gone? What if they heard you? Or worse… What if they find you?

Your brain began scrambling. You couldn’t focus on the present, only what lies beyond the small closet the two of you were tucked behind.

Yelena could tell you were antsy, which only caused her more grief. Her other hand that was placed firmly on your hip tightened. She was keeping you in place so there was nowhere for you to run.

“I didn’t tell you to stop; keep talking,” she demanded. “I want you to scream my name loud enough to forget hers.”

The anger you were feeling started to melt away into only an ecstasy of pleasure. You couldn’t resist the way she felt against you, and you couldn’t possibly turn her away now.

“I’m yours,” you responded for her.

“That’s a good girl, but you’re going to need to be louder if you really mean it.”

“I’m yours!”

“There you go, pretty girl. I knew you could do it.” Her words went straight to your head, sending you farther into a daze. Your previous fear of your closet endeavors being seen had faded away, now all that was left was you and Yelena.

“You getting close, baby?”

She knew you so well. Your legs were quivering, your breathing was erratic, and your nails were digging deeper into the back of Yelena’s neck.

“I know you’re so close, but I need to hear you,” she begged of you.

“Please, Yelena,” you whined. “I’ll be good.”

“Aw, will you baby? Have you learned your lesson?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then show me…cum baby.”

“Oh, Yelena!”

You came undone per her command. You tried to cover your mouth to muffle the sounds that could be heard outside the door, but Yelena quickly swatted your hand away. She wanted everyone to know you were hers.

After you calmed down, you tried your best to support yourself on your weak legs. You opened your eyes to meet Yelena’s piercing stare. You definitely felt better but you could tell that Yelena wasn’t completely satisfied.

You had lost track of time until you heard the large crowd outside the door counting down to midnight. Of course you expected a kiss from Yelena for the occasion, but instead you watched her wipe her fingers on her pants and head out of the door.

You were suddenly left alone as the celebration outside continued. You leaned against the door and slid down until you reached the bottom. As you sat there, you wondered what possible lesson Yelena could be teaching you by leaving you alone at the top of the New Year.

//

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[trashmouth-richie]

[vol i] [vol ii] [vol iii]

Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie is slowly becoming easier to live with you’re not sure if you’re just used to his disgusting behavior or if he’s truly trying to change. You make a schedule for chores and when/who/what time showers will be taken, chaos ensues on both Eddie and you. Eddie reveals a side of him that reader hasn’t seen/ noticed before.

W/C: 6.4k

A/N: if you were looking for some disgusting! Eddie smut this is the chapter for you babe.

Warnings: NO MINORS! Smut, blow jobs, rough sexual acts, degrading, daddy!kink, vomit, crude language (as if any of my fics don’t have this)

S/O: @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @boomhauer @mopeymopeymouse @chestylarouxx @banished-big-ope-vibes @carolmunson @newlips for helping me beta read, come up with dialogue, pacing, letting me insert them throughout the fic, helping me breakdown how this disgusting little mf would act in certain situations + everything in between! You guys are the best! If you aren’t already— follow them.

/

You couldn’t deny that things had gotten better with having Eddie as a roommate (not that you would ever express that to him) but living with the overgrown child was slightly very slightly, like a teeny tiny bit, better than it was before.

After living in his disgusting cluster fuck of a room for a week, Eddie finally sat down amongst his heap of mixed dirty and clean clothes and organized it. The disaster made your eye twitch every time you walked past his room in the morning and got a whiff of his stench, reeking of weed and Doritos, you finally convinced him to get it done, and in typical Eddie fashion— it came with a price.

After bargaining for days and nearly pulling your hair out because all he wanted was a single pair of your panties—

“Why? So you can hold them up like that dork in Sixteen Candles to show all your nerd friends?”

“Babe, the ladies I fuck don’t wear panties.”

He finally settled on a six pack of Busch Light, and for you to do his laundry for a week.

“Remember to separate my delicates, sweetheart.”

Fucking pig.

The only thing delicate about Eddie was his ego when you told him his hair was thinning out on top, (it definitely wasn’t, he had more hair than cousin It) but you needed the upper hand, and criticizing his hair was the way to do just that.

His bed frame and the oak dressers he had ordered, finally arrived. Allowing him to put away his never ending collection of band tee’s and holy jeans. Clearing a path for his floor.

“Holy shit, is that the carpet?” You ask, standing in the door frame before your shift at the salon, toothbrush in your hand, minty dollop of toothpaste atop it.

He’s elbow deep in the dresser, foregoing folding anything but instead shoving the clothes haphazardly into the shallow drawers and slamming them shut with his legs, or his hip.

“Wow, Tooty, you’re hilarious,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, “but since you asked, yes, it does, match the drapes.”

A smile spreads across his lips. Another normal conversation turning into a sexual innuendo. He couldn’t be prouder of the way you walked right into that. Since you told him what happened to Eyeball he really has been holding back his usual gross behavior, but sometimes it was just a slip of the tongue for him. Involuntary action.

You turn to leave but he stops you, crossing the room at record speed and placing a ringed hand on your wrist, the surprising warmth from his hand burning your skin.

“Hey, uh, can I get your opinion quick?”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think the groupies give a shit what color boxers you wear.”

“Wow, okay— that’s the wrong answer! But I’m talking about this.”

He points to the shelf crammed full of his odd knick knacks. It originally belonged to Nancy, but she had left it behind. Inside of it were a hoard of books. Lord of the Rings, something that looked like manuals for Dungeons & Dragons—of course he’s still playing that— a plethora of Stephen King books, and a full— more than likely sticky— stack of playboys. Go figure.

“What about it?”

“Do you think it looks good here or should I move it under the window?” Eddie asks, hands out wide measuring and comparing in arms length the distance under the window and the width of the book shelf.

You take a step into his room, every square inch of wall was covered in posters, your former bed sheets graffitied with his band, hung on one wall, the opposite held a kitchen knife stabbed through the drywall.

“What are you trying to do, feng shui?”

“Bless you.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “You sneezed, and me, being the pinnacle Christian son that I am, I blessed you, now should I keep this here?”

It took you a minute to comprehend what the hell just happened and why.

“Blessed by Eddie Munson— that’s the biggest oxymoron I’ve ever heard,” you snort, a smile twisted on your lips as you look at the overgrown man child huff about where to put his shelf, shoving your toothbrush into your mouth, “looks fine there.”

-

He did start cleaning up after himself, even offering to vacuum the living room in exchange for you making supper most nights. Begging you to make the lasagna again after he ate almost the entire pan the last time. He even decided to get take out on his one night a week to cook. Thank God because you couldn’t handle one more night of burnt, made-in-the-toaster, grilled cheese or using orange juice as a replacement when the milk was gone for cereal.

You learned the hard way that you needed to buy two separate gallons of milk, after watching Eddie drink straight from the jug, a dripping white mustache formed on his upper lip as he licked it suggestively, “Got milk?” He’d ask before roaring with laughter.

-

The next few weeks with Eddie as your roommate went rather smoothly. With you working at the salon and him working long hours at Boom’s Auto shop, you two came home at almost the same time every night. He would show up covered in grease and reeking of motor oil. His work coveralls, branding a white and red labeled patch with his name on them, had the sleeves cut off, showcasing his muscled arms and the wide array of tattoos prickling up and down them, shoulder to wrist. He wore a sweaty bandana wrapped around his head, rotating between a black or a red one, depending on the day.

You didn’t mind doing his laundry since his pockets were always full of either loose bills or the occasional joint, which you would keep, and smoke later with Robin and Steve, giggling watching the stars as you laid out on blankets in the backyard.

On Saturday nights, he usually played with the band, scoring a gig at the Hideout or working at the bar til closing time, helping Tom bartend a little until Walt got back from vacation. He stumbled in at night knocking over a lamp and almost falling backwards down the basement steps. He’d pass out for a greater half of the next day, waking in the afternoon with a raspy voice and smelling like cheap cologne.

One particular Sunday morning, he stumbled out of his room, wearing black boxer briefs, and a sleepy grin, rubbing his eyes like a little kid.

“Mornin’” he grumbled opening the fridge and diving in for his notorious pickles, tilting it to his lips and drinking straight from the jar.

You shake your head, sitting at the table and sorting through the mail. Your hair in a clip and wearing an oversized crew neck sweater, your mauve fingernails flicking through the envelope flaps, jotting down what’s due and when. “It’s 1 in the afternoon, Eddie.”

He smacks his lips loudly and faces you, fishing a pickle from the jar with his bare hands, “metal has no time limits, Tooty, we play until the bar shuts down.” He makes his way towards you, wearing one sock and chomping on his pickle.

You notice something on his stomach, a new tattoo? Maybe? Riding low on his waist and almost dipping below his underwear. The closer he gets you can make out the writing, a permanent marker phone number from a groupie written on his lower abs.

You point your pen towards his stomach, “gonna get that thing tattooed on, make it official, that Eddie the freak Munson has at least one adoring fan?”

He looks down, a smile pressing on his lips, “aww no need to be sad sweetheart,” he says lowering himself into a chair beside you, “there’s plenty of me to go around, and besides, I thought good little nuns couldn’t fuck, saving themselves for God.. or are you one of the dirty ones, showing your tits for cash so you can gamble?” He winks and laughs as you shove his shoulder trying to throw him out of the chair.

“You’re so gross!”

“And yet, I’m still here.” the Cheshire Cat smile planted on his lips.

Still. You had to admit, no matter how nasty his jokes were or how annoying he could be— having Eddie around wasn’t that bad.

-

“Tooty!” Eddie yells through the bathroom door bouncing from one foot to another, banging on the door with an open palm, “I’m going to piss my pants if you don’t hurry up!”

You had only been in the shower for ten minutes. When you walked past his room this morning with sleepy eyes and a deep yawn, metal music blared from his bedroom along with the annoying beep of his alarm clock, but the prince of filth was fast asleep.

“The schedule that you made says I get the bathroom first on Fridays, which is today!”

The schedule you had designed for Eddie and yourself consisted of 7 vertical columns one for each day of the week, and 5 horizontal columns: showering, laundry day, dishes, cooking, garbage. You had more days in the cooking column than Eddie, just like he had more days in the garbage column than you did. It evened out.

“Wrong— you were supposed to get the bathroom at 7, it’s now past 7:30 so it’s my turn,” you correct, putting a generous amount of body wash on your loofah and foaming it up, white suds cleansing your skin, “not my fault you can’t wake up to your alarm.”

“Christ, seriously just open the door! I’m fuckin’ dancing around out here like a little kid!”

“Can’t hear you,” you sing out to him, laughing silently beneath the spray of water.

You hear the feverish jiggle of the brass handle on the door and heavy footsteps as he stomps away. Oh the joys of victory. You bask in the delight of getting a one up on Eddie. Something that rarely happened in the few weeks he has been living with you. Slathering conditioner in your hair and rinsing, you exit the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to start the day.

Opening the bathroom door you expected Eddie to barrel through you to get to the bathroom, you’re taken aback when you hear faint yelling coming from outside.

“… piss in the front yard of my own house— I will! Go back to trimming your hedges with your toddler sized shorts and mind your own goddamn—,”

“Eddie!”

He’s standing barefoot in the middle of the lawn, his navy boxer briefs the only clothing he has on. Double middle fingers raised in the early morning sky aimed towards your neighbor across the street, Mr. Derry, the neighborhood watch dog. He was an older man, no kids, no wife. Retired. And a grade A pain in the ass.

Eddie turns and looks to you, pink blush creeping over his cheeks, “…business.” Eyes wide in innocence as if he hasn’t done anything wrong.

You’re still in your towel, hair soaking wet down your back, watching as this crazed lunatic you have as a roommate terrorizes the neighborhood, one flash of his dick at a time.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards the front door.

“Gracing the common folk of Cherry Lane with my morning wood, yeah take a picture and frame it you fuckin’ perv!”

Yanking harder you get him inside and slam the door. Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment.

You open your mouth to speak but Eddie has already started explaining.

“Listen, I had to piss bad, like really bad. You could have just unlocked the door but no, Ms. Uptight-independent Tooty with your rules and schedules—” he stops and takes a breath. After your conversation a few weeks ago about the downfall of Eyeball and your own family abandoning you, Eddie had been trying to be more reasonable about things, more cautious about the way he worded things. Not trying to twist the knife lodged into your chest that had been driven there years ago.

“So I made up my own rule! If you’re gonna take forever shaving your legs or…other things…” his eyes cast down your body. The white towel snug against your form, you clutch it tighter around you as his eyes stare through the towel, begging to catch a glimpse of your wet, smooth skin. Water droplets taunting him as they fall down the slick of your hair. He shakes his head to clear his gutter mind. “I’m going to take matters into my own hands, and believe me princess, it was a handful.”

That’s about as dialed back as Eddie could be.

“You can’t just piss in the front yard! This neighborhood is not like the trailer park, that asshole you called a perv—“

“He was! He was looking right at my dick!”

“— once called the cops on Nancy because she parked by his curb when we were having her bridal shower.”

“Wa-wait, Nancy fucking Wheeler got the cops called on her?”

“Yeah, Hop wasn’t too happy to find out what it was for, calling Derry a waste of space.”

Eddie laughs, “Oh I’m not surprised— him and I go way back, remember?”

Of course you did, he busted Eddie too many times driving higher than the Empire State Building while bringing you, Dustin, Will and Mike back to the Wheeler’s. It was almost a running joke between him and Hopper. Eddie would slip him a joint while in the back of his patrol vehicle and away he went, no ticket, no charge, nothing.

“Anyway,” you jeer, pointing a finger into his bare chest, the tip of your nail making a half moon indent into the head of the bloody demon inked on his left pec, “he’s a fucking asshole so don’t piss him off, he’ll make our lives hell.”

“Fine,” Eddie groans, running his hands down his face “but he was gawking!”

You roll your eyes and grab your hair dryer from your room. An adjustment you’ve had to do since Eddie moved in, getting ready partly in your room and in the bathroom. After your hair is dried and styled, you opt for a pair of light wash overall shorts, and a thick strapped, high neck tank top underneath. You finish your makeup by applying a coat of Revlon’s Toast of New York on your lips. Sliding on your knock off Doc Marten sandals, you grab your purse and head for the door.

Eddie’s sitting at the kitchen table, chair pulled out as he laces up his black work boots, body bent over his knee as he jerks his hand side to side, lazily working the laces through the hook eyelets.

“Still getting groceries tomorrow?” He asks, shoving his white cotton covered foot into his other boot, repeating the process. “I added some essentials to the grocery list.” He gestures to the pad and paper with a tilt of his chin.

Scanning the list you laugh, “Dunkaroos are not essential.”

“Don’t you dare cross them off!” Eddie fake shouts, a grin stretching across his lips, showing off his straight teeth.

“I’m off tomorrow and don’t have many clients today— I know it’s your night to cook, but I was thinking of making tater tot casserole for supper, I’ll just have to stop and get some ground beef from Bradley’s before I come home.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie lamented, “I have a gig tonight instead of tomorrow at the Hideout,” he says standing, running his hands down his legs to shake down his coveralls. “It’s probably going to be late, so don’t worry about making anything.”

Ripping the grocery list from the pad and stuffing it into your purse, you think back to how long it has been since you’d seen them play. You went along to support Chrissy and since Eddie was Kev’s longtime best friend and basically your chauffeur, you at least owed it to him to go with. A memory of you head banging and holding Chrissy’s hand tight as you both screamed for Corroded Coffin clouded your mind.

Threading your purse straps through your fingers and casting your eyes downward you have to know, “… you guys still play Lady Evil?”

Eddie grins again, “wouldn’t be a Corroded Coffin gig if we didn’t play some Sabbath, Jeff would probably throw a hissy fit.”

-

Friday evenings were usually busy in the shop. Boom ran a tight ship and paid better than any auto shop in a thirty mile radius. Eddie was lucky to get hired on using his street smarts and the fact that he was the unpaid mechanic of the trailer park for every banged up old sedan that his neighbors had since he was sixteen.

The old radio crackled and fussed as Hank Williams Jr sang about the survival rate of country boys. Boom whistled along with the tune. Running his tanned fingers through his blonde hair, a Mr. Pibb and a ham sandwich in front of him.

“So Eddie,” he says leaning back in his plastic chair, “I heard from the boys that you moved into a house on Cherry Lane. Damn boy, I thought that trailer park ran deep in your blood.”

Eddie throws his empty Mt. Dew can into the trash, missing by a mile. “Ahh Boom, you know I’m the prince of the park. Just stretching my city legs, helping out a friend.”

“Didn’t know you and Eyeball’s sister were close.” Aaron sneered, lighting up a cigarette with a strike of a match against his boot.

Eddie’s light hearted demeanor immediately changed, smile fading and eyebrows pulling together, “what the hell does that mean?”

“Helping out a friend?” Sean spat, his wiry mustache shriveled into a snarl, “what are you Mother Teresa? The only help that bitch needs is a fucking lobotomy.”

“Hey,” Eddie interjects, pointing a greased finger into Sean’s face, “don’t fucking talk about her like that, man.”

Aaron talks around his cigarette, blowing smoke across the table, “It’s true, she’s smokin’ fuckin’ hot but crazier than a shit house rat.”

The pair laugh, choking on smoke and bits of crusty bread.

“Remember what Chad said about her?” Aaron laughed..

“Fuck yeah how did he put that? Don’t marry the girls with the daddy issues, even if they let you put it in their a—”

Eddie slams his fists into Sean’s shirt, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him against the wall, “another word, about her— and I’ll break your fuckin’ nose.”

“You threatenin’ me Munson?” Sean chokes out.

Eddies eyes are crazed as he glares in Sean’s, “never a threat, pencil dick, it’s a promise.”

“Fellas,” Boom hollers, shoving his chair back with an eerie scratch, metal legs scraping on broken tile, “I’ll send ya both home for the day with no pay if y’all don’t knock it the fuck off.”

Eddie shoves Sean into the wall hard once more, releasing his grip on his shirt and adjusting his rings. He cracks his knuckles as he stomps back through the bay doors and out to the Buick he had been working on.

Ducking under the hood his breathing is erratic and his fists are shaking.

He never asked what happened with you and Chad but by the sounds of it, it sure as hell didn’t end on good terms.

It was fine if he teased you, but hearing it from anyone else wasn’t gonna fly with him. Not today, not ever. But something about the way you opened up to him, showed him your vulnerable side, it made him almost protective of you, like he needed to shield you from the ugliest parts of the world.

He never would have thought that Eyeball’s little sister, tough little Tooty, the same girl who punched Billy Hargrove in the face after pinching her ass one night, would make him care so much.

-

“Told ya he’s cool,” Steve slurs over his Bloody Mary, clinking the ice in the glass as he tips it back into his mouth, “he’s like a wild animal, but once you get to know him— he’s just a tattooed teddy bear.”

You, Robin and Steve were out for dinner and drinks at Louie’s, the newer sports bar in Hawkins, sitting under an emerald and white striped umbrella in the hot humid summer air. A monthly ritual you started ages ago when you all worked at Family Video. Only back then you went to Benny’s to get burgers and concrete thick milkshakes, racing to see who could finish first which ultimately ended in Robin getting a stomach ache, every time.

“I could have killed him the first few days,” you say, sipping your Malibu and Diet Coke through two neon straws, “honestly, still debating it.”

Robin steals the pickle spear and celery stick from Steve’s drink, munching away and talking with a mouthful, Steve simply rolls his eyes and reaches for another mozzarella stick, “wait, I thought you guys were getting along better now.”

“They are!” Steve interjects, pointing the mozzarella stick around like he was directing an orchestra, “I asked him myself when I brought my car to Boom’s yesterday for an oil change.”

The thought of your friends asking your roommate, who just so happens to also be their friend, how things were going between you both, made your stomach lurch.

“Well,” Robin began, twirling her pina colada and biting into the yellow flesh of the pineapple , “I’m just glad you aren’t by yourself anymore. It freaked me out knowing you were there alone.”

She wasn’t the only one.

Before Eddie had moved in, Steve gave you his prized nail bat to keep by your bed. So far you haven’t had to use it. And with Eddie in the house, it was stored in your closet.

“Alright, I’ll admit,” you say, taking a long drink, feeling the warmth of the coconut flavored alcohol mix with the Diet Coke bubbles, a frenzy on your tongue, “he’s come a long way,” you admit, dunking a fry into the mayo ketchup concoction, “finally house broke.”

It was the truth, you really didn’t mind him being around.

-

“Shh, gotta be quiet girls, daddy’s gonna take real good care of you, but seriously, you need to shut up.”

The girls laugh, drunk off bottom shelf liquor and Jell-O shots from the Hideout. Three pairs of tangled legs stumble through the front door as Eddie hurriedly works his keys into the lock.

The two of them giggle and hush one another, planting kisses on either side of his neck and stepping out of their shoes. His leather jacket hits the floor, the shirt he was wearing was ripped to shreds from the collar down. Carol’s fingers feverishly tore at his clothing before the three of them even made it to the van.

Foregoing the zipper on the tight leather mini dress she’s wearing, Eddie shoves it down her hips, giving her ass a firm squeeze, toying with the fishnet tights, “these stay on,” he demands, slapping her ass and unzipping his jeans, a parade of cheap lingerie, and leather studded clothing start from the front door and end in Eddie’s bedroom.

Your car wasn’t home which was odd but maybe it was parked in the garage. He wasn't sure where you were but if you were sleeping he didn’t want to wake you up. You had never discussed any boundaries about him bringing someone home, but what kind of rockstar would he be if he turned down hot twins?

They had approached him after the show, twisting their evil tongues into his mouth and groping him as soon as he got backstage.

Jeff was in the back room with his long time girlfriend Ash, they were holding each other tight as he kissed her neck and she squealed into his ear.

The girl who showed up to every gig, Marissa, wearing her signature “here for the drummer” shirt, was currently bent over the bathroom sink, Gareth buried deep inside her.

Even Big D was getting some action, the waitress from Benny’s, Emily, was currently bobbing along on his dick.

All of them were getting lucky, a win for Corroded Coffin. The girls were screaming for them, bras and panties tossed on stage, Gareth sporting multiple pairs around his neck. The old bar flies drunk off beer on tap were singing along to the requested songs.

Cece’s pink floral dress is brought over her head as Eddie sucks her nipple into his mouth, teasing and biting as Carol kneels at his feet and works her palm into his boxers, gasping at the hardened length in her grip.

A monster lies beneath the cotton. Almost as thick as her forearm, her dainty fingers unable to reach fully around his girth. She pumps him slow, releasing his throbbing cock.

His fingers twist into their hair as he shoves Cece down to her knees, joining Carol in the worship of Eddie Munson’s dick. Their greedy mouths take him in, one popping his balls into her mouth the other choking on his fat cock.

Eddie wasn’t gentle when he fucked groupies. He took what he wanted and didn’t leave any room for complaints or questions. Shut off from the gentle loving side sex can bring and only seeing red, it was like he was a mad man. A different person entirely. Truly the horns of satan poked through his forehead and his eyes clouded over revealing a black veil of sin.

Demon eyed.

He was pissed from what happened earlier at work. Fucking insane with rage at Sean and Aaron talking shit about you.

Not you, not Tooty.

His frustration builds as the sound of lungs gasping for air fills his ears.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, “Jesus Christ— don’t you wanna be good for daddy? Open that fuckin’ throat up and take what I give to you.”

He grabs Cece’s hair and thrusts himself in her mouth, ignoring her tears as she gags and swallows him whole. “Are you crying? Poor fucking baby, what a shame, on the bed now.” He grabs her up by the throat and tosses her onto the bed.

He’d kill Chad if he ever saw him again. Still had no idea what he did or why you two broke up but hearing his mantra spill from those asshat’s mouths today was enough to make his skin crawl.

The vulgar shit they were saying. The way they non chalantly said it like they were reciting their McDonald’s order. Fuck that bothered him.

Cock swinging, Eddie pinches Carol’s nipples until she’s standing, he flips her upside down, fucking into her open mouth as he bites her fishnet tights open and spits on her pussy. Tossing her on the bed like discarded trash he slaps both of their asses.

He tries to blur you away from his mind, separate you from his brain for a while to release this pent up anger. But all he can see are the small tears falling from your eyes when you tell him the truth about your family.

The Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day.

Shaking his head he bounds to his bed, trying like hell to focus on his task at hand.

“Are my little whores ready? Think you can handle this without tearing up?”

-

When Steve drops you off you’ve already puked in his car, twice. When he announced that drinks were on him tonight, you may have been double fisting Jack and Cokes with Robin, and taking vodka shots, racing to see who could finish first.

Robin passed out in the back of his car, snuggled up with the cold leather on her cheek.

“Steeb, I’m fine, seriously! Look how good I’m walking.”

“That’s because I’m carrying you.” Steve huffs as he opens the front door.

You’re slurring your words and talking in a volume that could raise the dead, “You’re such a good friend Stephen, why? Why why why are you single?” You hiccup, the remnants of your vomit lingering on your breath, “You need a wife!”

“Tooty, we can talk about my failed love life another day,” Steve grunts, carrying you into the house, stepping over boots and skimpy clothing, “for now let’s get you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up and maybe puke in the toilet this time!”

“I just wanna go to bed. I’m tired,” you whine, “Stoven bring me to my room, let me go to sleep!”

Ignoring you, Steve brings you to the bathroom and plops you down on the floor, opening the toilet lids just in time for you to blow chunks all over.

“Ooh that one looks like a mozzarella stick.”

“Jesus, I’m never letting you two idiots drink again! I’m always your goddamn babysitter, it’s so annoying.” Steve laughs, riddling your hair. Ever since you stepped foot into Family Video at fifteen, looking for a job, the three of you were inseparable. “You think you’re gonna be okay? I gotta get that other shit head home before she pukes in the backseat, I already have to clean the front.”

“Oh no! I didn’t know you threw up!”

Steve rolls his eyes, dragging his hands down his face.

“See you tomorrow, I’ll call you okay?” His face is pulled into concern, eyebrows raised and pinched together

You salute him and wave, laughing at his mop of hair flopping around as he turns to leave. Struggling for at least ten minutes to get your denim overall shorts unbuckled, cursing and giggling at your own drunken stupor. You finally manage to get them un done shucking them off your legs, leaving your upper body covered by your tank top, the black panties you were wearing still on. Sliding your arms around your back you manage to unhook your bra and thread it through your shirt, tossing it into the shower beside you. Exhausted, you rest your head on the toilet bowl— falling into a dizzy sleep.

-

“Cece, come here!” Carol whispers loudly. She’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, mouth agape at the sight of the slumped over figure hugging the toilet bowl.

“Holy shit!” She says, emerging from Eddie’s bedroom. “Is that? No fucking way.”

“I didn’t know he was screwing her too!” Carol breathes jealousy spewing from her lips.

“You really think he’d want to fuck that? Look at her! She’s a walking basket case. I heard that her family moved away because she wigged out and tried to kill her own mom.”

“Actually, the rumor is that I killed them all,” you add, raising your sleepy drunk face from the toilet, seeing double and trying not to puke on the spot, you try to stand, using the toilet to support your weight as you push off from it, wobbling horrifically.

“Get the fuck out,” you say, vision dancing as you try to point to the front door, holding onto the sink to stabilize yourself wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, “now.”

“Yeah?” Cece spits, folding her arms across her chest, “you gonna make us? Last I checked we were guests—“

“Not anymore,” Eddie hissed, adjusting the waist of his sweatpants as he looks into the bathroom at your disheveled appearance. Your makeup is smeared from throwing up, you’re half naked and barefoot, clutching onto the sink. Your overalls are covered in puke, and in a heap of vomit on the floor, a purple bra hangs over the edge of the tub. He wedges himself into the bathroom between you and the two girls, covering you with his tall frame from their view. His nostrils are flared and his chest is puffed out, “you heard her, get the fuck out.”

“What the fuck Eddie?!” Carol gripes, looking into his mad eyes.

He glares back, bored with her, “Did you really think you were gonna stay the night?” He prods, “Please, you can’t be that fucking stupid. Get your shit and go.”

“We live across town!” Cece squeaks, face pulled into shock and humiliation.

“Don’t care.”

Carol crosses her arms and glares into his eyes, “It’s late!”

“And?” He asks glaring back, and pushing through them, “Here let me help.”

Eddie takes their purses and shoes, tossing them out the front door into the yard. Pointing to the open door and fuming, he spits, “Out.”

The girls leave screeching ‘fuck you’s’ as they walk down the sidewalk, disappearing into the night.

He turns back to the bathroom, hearing you vomit again, one small glance and he can tell you hit the sink at least, puke splattering all over— the same reaction if you held a spoon under running water.

He turns around and comes back with the cleaner and a roll of paper towels, gagging with each wipe of the sink as he cleans it up.

Your crumbled body is slumped over the toilet again.

“Gonna live? Or should I call the coroner.” He says leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a look of worry on his face.

“ ‘s Robin’s fault,” you mumble, voice echoing in the toilet bowl, “woulda been fine if it wasn’t for the sh—,” you gag thinking of the vodka, “—shots, I’m usually not like this.”

Eddie sits on the side of the tub. You’re wasted and half dressed. He was a lot of things but taking advantage of a drunk girl wasn’t him. He finds your robe hanging in its designated spot, and drapes it across your bare shoulders.

“Sit up a bit,” he instructs. With great effort you sit up, almost falling backwards but Eddie catches you, careful of his hand placements not wanting to graze you in your inebriated state. He helps you sit and you put your arms through the holes of the robe. He reaches gently around your middle to tie it. Putting delicate pressure on your back as he leans you forward towards the toilet. You hum with satisfaction as your face feels the cool plastic of the toilet seat. Fighting the urge to rub your back.

“I’m dying, you can have the house when I’m gone, scatter my ashes in the rose bushes out back.” You say with a whine. Groaning as your stomach churns again, puking up more and more of the mixed alcohol you drank earlier in the night.

“Need some water?” Eddie guesses.

You nod your head, feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds you set it back down.

He leaves and comes back from the kitchen with a glass of water, swirly straw included. Tapping your shoulder he hands you the Disney cup, taking a long pull from the straw, you set the cup down on the linoleum floor.

“Thanks.”

“Agh, you’ll be alright. The porcelain Gods and I are great friends— well we used to be back in high school. I haven’t prayed to them in a while,” he says with a chuckle. Sliding down against the wall behind you, sitting on the cold floor.

“Don’t forget the time you and Kev ate those shrooms and puked all night in the basement of our house.” You mutter, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and flushing the toilet.

That was a night Eddie would never forget, he was only sixteen, and he somehow scored some homemade brownies and shrooms from one of the seniors. Being young and dumb, him and Eyeball each ate three brownies and an entire bag of shrooms. The high was insane, but the aftermath was death. He hasn’t touched shrooms since.

“Shit,” Eddie exclaims, “how old were you? Ten?”

“ ‘leven,” you say, holding your elbows on the toilet seat and your head in your palms, “old enough to know you and Kev didn’t magically get the flu at the same time.”

“Man we were dumb,” he says with a laugh, rubbing his chin with his hand.

“Were?” you say slyly.

“Easy, I’m not the one who can’t hold their liquor, Princess.”

“Oh Jesus please no more mention of it or I will barf—again.”

He stands to leave, laughing and stretching his arms out over his head as a small yawn escapes him. Exhausted from the day's events: work, concert, threesome— ain’t no way he’d be up before noon tomorrow— you either.

“Think I’m gonna go to bed, you going to be okay?”

Sitting up and looking at Eddie for the first time tonight, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re drunk, but it’s almost as if it’s the very first time you’ve seen him. His amber colored eyes are surrounded by a forest of black eyelashes, his mop of curly hair hanging in them slightly, smooth pink lips, surprisingly full, a sharp jaw with a days worth of stubble, his veiny neck dances as he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His shoulders are thick snaking down to muscled forearms, veins protruding from them, his hands are easily double the size of yours, thick fingers adorned with the same chunky stupid rings he’s worn forever. His broad chest stretches across his ribs, nipples pierced since the 80’s. He stands with confidence. His slender waist with the tiniest patch of hair ducking into the gray waistband of his hanes boxer briefs. And the prettiest alabaster skin peeking out from his collection of black tattoos.

Mouth suddenly dry, you stutter, “I—I’m done throwing up, gonna go to my bed.”

You stand on Bambi’s legs, hitting the wall hard with your shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie laughs and scoops you up making sure he’s holding under your bent knees and around your upper arms. He carries you to your bed, his skin burning hot against your cheek. He lays you down, throwing the blankets over your head for good measure, trying like hell to ignore the flutter in his stomach as you huff and pout pulling your eyebrows inward and frowning as you place your blankets to your liking.

“Get some sleep Tooty.” Eddie says all too softly. Pushing your cute sleepy face from his mind, rocking back on his heels as he starts to leave your room.

“Eddie?” You call after him, your small voice ripping through him like a knife. “Thank you, seriously. For everything.”

Shaking his head back and forth, his wild hair flows like a curtain around him in the dark as he leaves your room, “you owe me,” he says with a small grin, shutting the door behind him.

//

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/

SEE YOU IN VOLUME: V

[volume: 5]

putting random symbols in hopes that read more will eat this instead of the last paragraph 😩

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[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 8: My Favorite Cowboy

Summary: After finding out things aren't going as planned with Javi's project on the ranch, you come over to help. You spend the day meeting Javi's dad, learning about the Peña ranch, and Javi surprising you with a night that you won't ever forget.

Word Count: 12.2K (I'm not sorry about it!!!)

Warnings: SMUT (18+, but it's the most romantic smut I've ever written UGH), unprotected p in v sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, praise, mentions of food/eating, mentions of grief/loss of a parent, Chucho Peña not letting his son have a moment of peace, Javi being a hot handsome cowboy, FLUFF FLUFF SO MUCH FLUFF Javi is a lovesick FOOL for you

A/N: Just when I thought I couldn't cram anymore in to this chapter, here we are. I wasn't planning on it ending the way it did but I literally just couldn't help myself because these two are so obsessed with each other that I'm not even mad about it. That's all I will say!!! As always, thank you so much for everyone who reads/commments/reblogs/is invested in this story, you all mean so much to me and appreciate all your kind words!!

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As you hung up the phone with Javi, the reality of your conversation hit you like a ton of bricks. Not only had you just volunteered yourself to go over to Javi’s ranch for the first time, you had also signed up to meet his dad, bring them food, and help with their project? Today was turning out to be a much bigger day than anticipated. Of course you had wanted to see the Peña ranch and meet Javi’s father. Those were two things you knew were both incredibly important to him. That’s why it made you so nervous. You liked Javi. You more than liked him. You wanted more than anything to make a good impression when you met his family, and now that impression depended on a sandwich and your ability to build a fence. 

Thankful you went to the grocery store yesterday, you stared at your fridge before collecting some lunch meat, cheese, and toppings. Unsure of what sandwiches the Peña men would want, you packed a cooler full of 10 different types, each labeled and wrapped in tinfoil, hoping there would be enough variety that they could find at least one they liked. You also threw in the rest of your chocolate chip cookies from last night, along with a bag of potato chips, a few cans of Coke and some bottles of beer. Staring at the cooler, you began to panic, fearing Javi’s dad was going to think you were a crazy person for showing up with so much food, but the thought of him thinking that you didn’t show up with enough was even more terrifying. Realizing that you had spent way longer than expected trying to perfect lunch, you quickly rushed to your room to try and pick out something to wear. Shuffling through your closet, you sighed to yourself, absolutely unsure of what to pick out. What the hell says I’ve missed my hot, sexy boyfriend, I’m excited to meet your dad for the first time, and I’m here to help you build a fence? Nothing. The answer is nothing. Knowing you were tight on time, you just had to go with the first outfit you pulled- denim shorts and a striped short sleeved t-shirt, throwing your hair half up in a clip, hoping to at least look semi-cute before you were a sweaty mess from the hot, Texan heat. Throwing on a little bit of makeup and a healthy dose of deodorant, you grabbed your purse, cooler, and Javi’s directions before heading out the door. 

You couldn’t have been more grateful that your AC was deciding to cooperate in your car today, 1- Because your nerves already had you sweating enough, and 2- the fear of losing Javi’s directions out the open window of your car would have sent you over the edge. You drove the first half of your journey in silence, your free leg bouncing rapidly as you triple checked each turn on the directions. You tried to tell yourself there was nothing to worry about. You were a likable person, right? You pleaded with your brain to cut it out with the “what-if” scenarios, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

What if his dad is annoyed you’re coming over? What if he’s mad about how much time Javi has been spending with you? What if he thinks that your sandwiches are the worst that he’s ever had in his life? What if he just doesn’t like you? Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. 

Your knuckles clenched the steering wheel, as you tried to think of something to snap you out of your stress. Pulling down your overhead visor, you plucked through the CD’s you had stashed up there, grabbing your favorite hype music you and your brothers played before every hockey game. Skipping through the first few tracks, you cranked up the volume as a loud “OI, OI, OI” blasted through the speakers. You weren’t really sure that T.N.T. by AC/DC was an appropriate song to settle your nerves before meeting your boyfriend’s dad for the first time, but by the end of the song, you felt a little more relieved. With only a few more turns left in your trip, you lowered your music and took a few more deep breaths, composing yourself as you found yourself on your last step of directions, making your way down a long, dirt road. Along both sides, the road was lined with bright green fields of farmland, the long grass gently swaying from the breeze. You passed a few ranches spread few and far between each other, turning your head as you drove by to make sure none of them were your destination. As you approached the 5th house on the right, according to Javi’s directions, you breathed a sigh of relief as you turned into the driveway, greeted by a weathered sign reading “Peña Ranch.” 

The nervous feeling in your gut began to build again, palms sweaty as you pushed against the steering wheel, parking behind Javi’s truck like he had asked on the phone. As you turned off the ignition, you sat in your car for a few moments, working up your courage before exiting, grabbing your cooler and heading down the remainder of the gravel driveway to the front door. Looking around, you were amazed by the beautiful acres of farmland that surrounded the quaint ranch in front of you. Bushes of beautiful flowers lined the front of the house, colorful roses and hydrangeas creeping just below the big windows glistening in the sunshine. As you stepped on to the porch, you noticed two rocking chairs set side by side, slowly moving back and forth from the wind. You took one last deep breath as your free hand tightened to a fist, getting ready to tap on the front door. 

Knock, knock, knock. 

Nothing. 

Knock, knock, knock. This time a little louder, more force behind your rapping knuckles. 

Still silent. 

“Hello?” you raised your voice slightly. 

No response. 

You stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. You weren’t just going to stand there like an idiot until someone came to answer, and you weren’t going to wander the property with a cooler full of sandwiches looking for Javi and his dad. You figured your next best bet was to try the door, hoping that maybe someone was inside and just hadn’t heard you. Hesitantly twisting the doorknob, you quietly let yourself in, gently closing the door behind you. 

Peeking through the doorway, you were greeted by the warm interior of the Peña home. The walls were painted in a soft, creamy beige, covered by pictures and portraits of who you assumed to be friends and family. The first picture in the entryway was of a beautiful woman who looked like she was laughing and dancing. She had long, dark curls and a vibrant smile, her laugh lines stretched across her cheeks. It couldn’t have been anyone besides Javi’s mother, their faces were practically identical. As you stepped further into the house through the living room, you found a picture of a baby in nothing but giant cowboy boots, hat, and diaper. You giggled to yourself, knowing that it had to be a little baby Javi, drowning in whoever had put him in full cowboy attire. 

“He was a cute baby, wasn’t he?” 

The voice behind you had scared you so badly, you practically jumped through the roof. 

“Oh, mija, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Chucho chuckled as you caught your breath. 

“Mr. Peña, I’m so sorry, I tried to knock and no one answered and I didn’t want to wander around and go anywhere I shouldn’t and I-” You fumbled over your words, flustered and embarrassed that the first time Javi’s dad ever saw you was staring at a picture of your boyfriend in a diaper. 

“Mija, sweetheart, please, call me Chucho. Señor Peña es mí papa. (Mr. Peña is my father.). You don’t need to apologize, that’s why the pictures are there, to be enjoyed. That one has always been one of my favorites.” He pointed back to Javi’s baby picture, you both laughing to yourselves. 

“He was a very cute baby.” You set down your things, outstretching your hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chucho, I’m-“ 

Before you could finish, Chucho had already wrapped you in his arms, embracing you in a tight hug. He held you there for a few seconds, smiles both stretching across your faces. “I know who you are, mija. I am so glad to finally meet you. I have heard so much about you.” He leaned back from your hug, still holding the sides of your arms as his eyes glistened. “It has been so long since I have seen my Javier so happy. He absolutely lov-” 

“Pops! Give her some space, okay?” Javi’s familiar voice carried down the hallway behind you, cutting off the rest of his father’s sentence you were now very curious to hear the rest of. It didn’t take you long to become distracted by your thought, as Javi’s broad body strolled down the hallway, his gray t-shirt shirt clinging to his biceps, his sweat making his dark curls stick to his forehead. Even when he was a sweaty mess, he still looked delicious. 

“Relájate, hijo. Quería saludarme a mí futura nuera.” (Relax son. I just wanted to say hello to my future daughter in law.) Chucho’s smirk couldn’t have been any bigger, and Javi’s cheeks couldn’t have been any redder. 

“Pops, please stop.” Javi grumbled, obviously embarrassed. 

“What’d you say? Sorry, I’ve been trying to work on my Spanish since moving here.” You tried to politely interject, very curious as to what was making Javi so flustered. 

“Nothing, mija. Javier can tell you another time.” Chucho grinned, winking at his son as he rolled his eyes before burying his head in his hand. 

“Alright.” You smiled at Javi, his face still flushed. “Well, I have lots of food if you’re hungry! I brought sandwiches, if that’s okay.” You held up your cooler, gesturing to its contents. 

“Okay? More than okay, sweetheart. Thank you. I’m sure it is better than any lunch this old man could have thrown together. Javi, grab the cooler and some drinks, let’s head outside.” 

“Mr. Peñ-“ You paused, correcting yourself as Chucho grinned at you. “Chucho. Really, I don’t mind carrying it, it’s not that heavy. And there’s some Coke and beer in there already if you want some!” 

“Ella trajo cerveza? Ella te quiere mucho, Javier. La amo, tambien.” (And she brought beer? She really does love you, Javier. I love her too.)

“Jesus Christ…” Javi whispered under his breath. “Dad, please.” His voice a mix of firm and desperate. 

“Fine, fine.” He replied, swatting his hand at his son. “Gracias, mija. That was very kind of you.” 

“Of course.” You smiled as the three of you began walking through the kitchen and out to the back deck where a small picnic table sat in the shade of the overhang of the roof. The view from the back deck was breathtaking- miles of green pasture stretched across land, separated by a few lines of fencing housing sheep and cows to the right, and some horses to the left. “It’s absolutely beautiful here. Javi never told me how amazing it is.” You gave him a playful nudge as you sat down next to him, putting the cooler on the table and staring out in front of you. 

“Yeah, I don’t know, different when you see it every day, I guess.” Javi shrugged nonchalantly.

“Are you kidding? After living in a city for so long, I don’t think I’d ever get over waking up to this every morning. Beats ugly gray buildings and taxis any day of the week.” You turned around to see Javi quickly dart his eyes away, trying to play off the fact he hadn’t just been gawking at you for the past few seconds. 

“Thank you. I do love it here. Javier tells me you're from Chicago. Laredo must have been a big change for you, mija.” 

“I guess. I lived in the suburbs growing up so I wasn’t in the city my whole life. I actually had been to Laredo before I moved here, which is part of the reason why I picked it. My best friend came here in high school for her dad’s job and I would visit every summer. I always loved how peaceful it was. Don’t get me wrong, I love Chicago, but I absolutely love it here too.” You softly smirked at Javi, as his hand reached down to grasp your leg, rubbing his thumb along your knee under the table. “Please, have something to eat! I made a lot because I didn’t know what sandwiches you like, so hopefully there’s something in there you want.” 

Javi stood up to open the cooler and take out its contents, laughing and shaking his head as he saw what was inside. “Jesus Hermosa, were you planning on feeding an army today?” He started removing sandwich after sandwich, along with the rest of the cookies and chips.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know what people liked and-” You muttered, embarrassed by your excessive overpacking. 

“She is just like your mamá, Javier. Nunca puede tener demasiada comida. You can never have too much food, she would always say. Thank you, mija. It all looks wonderful.” 

You let out a small smile, relieved by his comment. “It’s the least I can do. I heard your project isn’t exactly going as planned so I wanted to do something small to help out.” 

“It’s been a shit show. Better now that you’re here.” Javi smirked. “Can you pass me the turkey sandwich? And a cookie? Wait, did you make these?” Pointing over to the ziploc bag the cookies were stored in. 

“Yeah, I made them yesterday. Had a feeling they were better here than sitting uneaten at my apartment.” You passed both items of food off to him. 

No surprise to you, Javi went straight for the cookie, taking a giant bite, not bothering to finish chewing before he spoke. “These are so fucking good.” 

“Javier, language! And chew with your mouth closed. You may have been raised on a ranch, but you weren’t born in a barn.” Chuchco scolded as you giggled. 

“Sorry.” He grumbled sheepishly. “They’re delicious, Osita. So is the sandwich.” he spoke before taking another mouthful. 

“Thanks, I had a feeling you’d like ‘em. So what can I help with after lunch is done? 

“Osita, I already told you, you don’t need to help with anything.” 

You crossed your arms, giving him a stern look. “You’re trying to tell me there’s not a single thing that I can help with? Nothing? Nothing at all?” 

“Well, I mean…” Chucho perked up, mid-bite on a handful of chips. 

“Dad. Seriously?” 

“What? She’s offering!” 

“I am, thank you, Chucho. See, listen to your dad, Javi.” You shrugged and raised an eyebrow at him defiantly. 

“Yes, Javier, listen to your father.” Chucho joined you in crossing his arms at his son, you and Chucho both laughing as Javi sighed. “Although I will agree with Javier on this one, mija. I have no doubt you are strong and willing to help, but I can’t ask you to help build this fence. Even with 6 grown men, this fence would have been hard to build. Although…”

“Pops, c’mon.” 

“I wasn’t going to ask her to help with the fence, Javier.” He swatted his hand at his son in annoyance. Chucho turned back to look at you. “Mija, have you gardened before?” This got Javi’s attention. He sat up a little straighter and leaned in to what his dad had to say. 

“Yes, actually! My mom had a garden of all kinds of things at our house when I was a kid. My brothers never wanted to take care of it because it was too girly, but I loved it.” 

Chucho let a soft smile creep across his face. “Perfect. Mija, the flowers around the house could use a little love. Watering, weeding, trimming down. I know it does not seem like a big job but it has been on my to-do list and I just haven’t gotten to it yet. Too much longer and it will be a jungle and too much for my old knees to handle on my own. Would you mind helping with that?” 

“Of course, I would love to!” You grinned, semi-relieved you weren’t going to have to embarrass yourself in front of Javi trying to pick up a post just to prove a point. 

“Bueno! These sandwiches were delicious, mija. Thank you, again. Let me show you where the tools are and then we will all be back to work.” 

You and Javi followed Chucho hand in hand to the small tool shed on the outside of the barn. He grabbed a bucket, placing a few items inside before handing it off to Javi, even though you insisted you could carry it. Chucho showed you his preferred method of clipping and trimming around the flowers, along with his favorite weeding shovel and where the hose was to water when you were done. The whole time you and Chucho were talking, Javi watched in silence, his heart bursting at the sight of you two milling around the garden. As Chucho finished with his directions, you turned back around to see Javi, wiping away what you assumed was just sweat from under his eyes. 

“I think I got it all! Thanks, Chucho!”

“Of course, honey. We are out in the far left pasture, so if you need anything, you can call Javi’s phone from the future on our perfectly good phone in the house.” 

“You have it out for cell phones, too? Must be a dad thing, mine is the same way. I’ll call if I need anything.” Chucho nodded as he began making his way back to the pasture, Javi lingering behind for a few more moments. “I never did get to properly say hello to you.” You smirked, pulling your fingers beneath the belt loops on Javi’s jeans, bringing him closer to you as you both leaned in for a long, sweet kiss. 

“I think this hello works just fine.” Javi chuckled, his large hand cupping your face, calloused thumb rubbing back and forth against your cheek. “Thank you, Osita. This means so much to me. Meeting my dad, bringing food, offering to help. I just- Thank you.” 

“Of course. I’m so glad I got to finally meet your dad. He’s hilarious. I think he was just worried that I was gonna be too strong helping with the fence and he didn’t want to embarrass you like that.” 

“Pendejo.” 

“You love it.” 

“I do.” 

I do. It was soft and tender and sweet and somehow screamed in your ear at the same time. It made your heart race and your cheeks flushed as he pulled the hand already resting on your jaw closer to his, the kiss between you so gentle, yet powerful all at once. It felt like your lips were barely touching, yet somehow it still felt like they were crashing together, like a wave on the beach in a stormy sea. You pulled away from each other, slow and breathless, eyes locking and mouths still hanging half open. A kiss that left you both dumbfounded and speechless. 

“I uh, I should um, probably go help my dad.” 

“Yeah, I um, yeah, I should probably get to work on these flowers.” 

Both of your voices barely carried above a whisper. You slowly backed away from each other, stupid smiles spread across your cheeks as you bit down on your bottom lip to try and keep your grin from growing any wider. 

“If you need anything just-“ He gestured down to his pocket where was carrying his phone. 

“Just call your cell phone, I know.” 

As Javi’s body turned to walk towards his dad, his eyes stayed glued on you. So much so, that neither of you noticed the garden bucket he was about to trip over before it was too late. With one wrong step, Javi lost his footing and took several tumbling steps before planting his hands on the ground and pushing himself back up to stand. You were trying your hardest not to burst out into laughter, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Stupid fucking bucket…” Javi mumbled to himself. 

“Watch out for those buckets, they’ll getcha.” You yelled mockingly between your hysterical laughter. 

“I didn’t see it.” 

“Then watch where you’re going next time!” 

“It isn’t that funny.” 

“It is a little funny.” You still chuckled to yourself. 

Out of witty responses, Javi only shook his head at you before disappearing behind the house. Around the corner, he found his father, also laughing in hysterics, barely getting his words out over his snorts. 

“Got distracted by something while you were walking?” 

“Fuck. Did you see that too?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, hijo.” 

“Goddamnit.” Javi put one hand on his hip and the other palming his face. 

“Ah, to be young and blinded by love again.” Chucho shook his head as he began walking out towards the field. 

“Dad, please, for the love of-“ Javi pinched his fingers against the bridge of his nose as Chucho cut off the rest of his sentence. 

“I know, I know, I will leave it alone… for now.” He winked at Javi as the two men made their way back out into the field, Javi peeking around the house to take one last look at you before he left. 

If there was one thing that you had learned since moving to Texas, it was that it got hot. Fast. You truly didn’t mind the heat- it beat the terrible midwest winters you had dealt with every year since childhood. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel like you slowly melting away only after a few hours out in the blazing sun. Beads of sweat pooled on your forehead as you clipped all of your hair up and out of your face, hating the feeling of it wet and sticky against your neck. Your shirt was practically drenched from the sun hitting your back for so long. You were thankful that you were getting closer to being finished, only leaving watering the flowers as your last step. If this was your own garden, you would have been weeding and trimming at a lightning fast pace, but something about the way Chucho had so tenderly clipped each branch and gently tugged each weed made you slow down and take your time with every step. Given the way you had watched Javi curiously perk up as his dad had offered you the task made you feel like this wasn’t a job that he would have offered to just anyone. The last thing you wanted to do was mess it up. As you made your way around the edge of the house, leaving only the last few bushes, you noticed a large, flat stone at the base of one of the hydrangea plants. You squatted down next to it, using your hand to dust off the dirt covering the top, plucking some weeds growing around the edges. Under the dirt, your fingers began to trace over indents in the rock that felt like letters. With a few more swipes of your hand, you were able to make out the words under the soil. 

Lucia’s Garden 

You sat there for a few moments, rubbing your fingers gently over the indents in the stone, lost in thought as you imagined the vibrant image of Javi’s mother amongst the equally bright and beautiful flower garden. 

“Hey, Osita.” Even though the voice was soft and familiar, you had definitely not heard Javi creep up behind you, and when his strong and calloused hands rested on top of your shoulders, you just about jumped out of your skin. 

“Ah! Jesus, what is it with the Peña men and absolutely scaring the shit out of me today?” You jumped up, catching your breath as Javi rested his hands on the outside of your arms as you turned towards him. He laughed softly to himself as you regained your composure. “I wasn’t expecting to see you for a while. Not that I’m mad about it, but I find it very unlikely you and your dad are already done with the fence. Unless you both have some crazy superpowers, besides sneaking up on people, that I don’t know about.” 

He chuckled, as he placed his hand under your chin, tilting it up towards him as he gently wiped a smudge of dirt off of your cheek. “No, not done yet. But, I did just get a call that the guys who were supposed to come help. They’re back on the road and should be here soon, and they were able to bring a few extra people with them with building. So, I was able to convince Pops that they had enough help with the fence, that you could come help me do the rest of the chores around the ranch for the night, if you want.” 

���I thought you said you weren’t gonna let me help with anything.” You crossed your arms and smirked at him, raising an eyebrow. 

“I mean if you don’t wanna see the animals,” he said, putting a knowing emphasis on the word, “then that’s fine I guess-”

“Wait. That’s what this is?! We get to go see the animals?! Why didn’t you say that first, dummy, let’s go!” You shrieked, practically dragging Javi away. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so excited to feed cows.” 

“AND we get to feed them?! This is really turning out to be way better than anything I had planned.” 

“You’re ridiculous, Osita.” He laughed as he smiled at you, finding it both hilarious and absolutely adorable at how excited you were. Here you were, covered in dirt and sweat, practically begging him to walk through a smelly barn to feed even smellier animals, all because it meant you got to be with him. Him. He truly needed someone to pinch him, because he was convinced he had to be dreaming. Well, if he was, he guessed he could let that dream keep going just a little longer. 

“I don’t understand how you don’t think this is the coolest thing. What do we have to do first?” You looked up at him, eyes glistening with excitement. 

“We'll stop at the barn and get some hay and feed, then take the truck out to them.” 

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s go!” 

You both hopped into Javi’s truck and headed towards the barn. While it was only less than a minute away, Javi wasted no time gripping his hand over your bare thigh, stroking his thumb back and forth over your skin as he drove. 

“Do you wanna wait in here while I get stuff?” He asked gently as he put the truck in park pulling up to the barn, still rubbing his hand against your knee. 

“That is the stupidest question you have asked me all day. If I’m here to help, I want the full Peña Ranch experience.” You quickly unbuckled yourself as you opened the passenger door, sliding out. Javi shook his head and laughed to himself as he followed behind you. 

“You really want the full experience?” He stood facing you, arms crossed over his chest with a smug look on his face. 

“Yes! I told you, I’m here to help. Don’t take it easy on me, Peña.” You mirrored his stance, leaning into your hip and shrugging your shoulders. 

“Okay.” He chuckled as he opened the barn door and then stood back to lean against the back of the truck. “We need four bales of hay and 2 buckets of feed. All you, Osita.” He motioned to the barn wall, stacked high with bales of hay from end to end. 

“Easy.” You reached your hands above your head to stretch before you walked over to the hay, Javi standing and watching. “How heavy can they be? It’s just hay!” You leaned over the closest bale, reaching down to the two strings binding it together to pick it up. Oh shit. This was WAY heavier than you thought, but there was no turning back now. Taking a deep breath, you grimaced your face as you tried to lift the bale as high off the ground as you could, shuffling awkwardly towards the truck. You let out a much louder than intended grunt as you heaved the bale of hay up into the truck bed, letting out a few deep breaths and putting your hands on your hips after you finished, trying as hard as you could to play off the fact that the task was much more difficult than expected. “See?” Your words heavy between each pant. “Easy.’ 

“Do you want to go get the buckets of feed while I finish the hay? Or was it so easy that you wanna do the rest of them?” Javi smirked. 

“I mean, I guess if I’m getting the full experience, I should probably learn how to get the feed too. ” You replied, trying to hide the fact you were still trying to catch your breath. 

“Okay, Osita, whatever you say.” He winked, smirk still spread across his face. “There’s some barrels back there labeled with feed. You can put 3 scoops in the red bucket and 3 in the blue. Should be easy.” He leaned down to give you a quick kiss before making his way over to the hay bales. 

“Pendejo…” You muttered to yourself. 

“You love it.” He teased, easily lifting a bale and tossing it into the truck. 

Thankfully, the feed was nowhere near as heavy as the hay, and you were able to carry both buckets over to the truck where Javi was waiting for you. “You want me to put those in the truck for you, or are they easy too?” Javi mocked, clearly getting enjoyment out of your stubbornness.

“Oh shut up, I just wasn’t expecting the hay to be that heavy.” Your grumbles and defeat quickly turning into giggles and smiles as Javi lifted you up and sat you on the edge of the truck bed, his arms placed outside your hips as he leaned in to pepper you with ticklish kisses across your neck and face. “It would be so much harder to be mad at you if you weren’t the hottest cowboy I’ve ever seen. Didn’t know I had a thing for them until you showed up all hot and sweaty and handsome and I’ve been trying so hard to not get distracted, especially considering we’re hanging out with your dad, but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

“You don’t think it’s been any easier for me watching you just walk around in those jean shorts all day? Jesus, Osita, you’re fucking killing me.” He planted another hot, wet kiss on your neck as his hands shifted, running up and down your thighs. You could feel heat flushing over your cheeks as you felt arousal build in your belly. 

“Javi, we cannot do this here, we’re at your dad’s house. I want him to like me, I don’t need him to catch us screwing around here.” Your breaths slowly turned into moans, making your argument less and less convincing to Javi as he had his fingertips gripping into your hips, pulling you close to him as his kisses crept up your neck and along your jaw. 

“He already loves you, hermosa. Don’t worry, I have it figured out. You’ll see.” He pulled his lips off you, suddenly, winking before walking away towards the driver’s side door, leaving you sitting on the truck bed, worked up and desperate. 

“Wait, woah, what? What do you mean you have it figured out? You can’t just do that and walk away!” You scrambled off the truck bed, hopping into the truck with him. 

“C’mon, Osita. We have cows to feed, remember?” With the way this man kissed you, you were lucky if you could remember your name after he was done. 

Feeding cows and sexual tension were two things that you would have never thought would have gone hand in hand, but here you were, barely holding it together as you looked over at Javi. His aviators perched on his strong nose, gray shirt stretching across his broad shoulders, the width of his hands around your leg? You sure hope whatever mystery he had planned was coming soon because your self restraint was starting to run thin. That was, until you looked out the truck. 

“YOU DIDN’T TELL ME THERE WERE BABY COWS?” You practically jumped out of the passenger door as the truck pulled to a stop, speeding up to the fence where four calves were waiting for you. “Can I pet them? They’re so cute!” You hadn’t even bothered to help Javi haul the food out of the truck bed as you reached out to scratch the bridges of each little cow’s nose. 

“I figured you’d like these guys. Hola, chiquitos. Tienes hambre? (Hi, little ones. Are you hungry?). He cooed in a sweet, soft voice that made your heart melt. “Do you wanna feed them while I take care of the others?” 

“Is this gonna be another hay bale situation?” You joked sarcastically, scratching under one of the cow’s chins. 

“No, this one is actually fun. Hold on.” He went back over to the truck, pulling out 4 large bottles that he must have grabbed while you were getting the rest of the feed. “They’re not old enough for grain feed yet, so they’re still bottle fed.” He passed one of the containers off to you, before grabbing his own to demonstrate. “All you have to do is hold it with both hands and let them drink out of it until it’s empty. Each calf gets one. They’re cute, but don’t let ‘em fool you, they’re still strong, and very hungry.” 

“Got it.” You replied, taking the bottle in both hands, the calves beginning to moo as they caught a glimpse of their food. You held it up as the cow’s tongues shot out of their mouths before one of them latched on to the bottle. You giggled as the calf sucked out of the container, Javi smiling at your enjoyment as he grabbed a bale and made his way further down the fence to feed the rest of the herd.  

“Ringo is very strong.” You grunted, gripping on to your final bottle as Javi approached you again, finished with his feeding duties. “At least he’s nicer than George, he tried to bite John and Paul when it was their turn to eat!” 

“Hermosa, who are you talking about?” Javi laughed, amused at the sight of you trying to keep the calf from ripping the bottle out of your hands. 

“The cows! They needed better names than 6, 14, 27 and 31, which was all their tags said. And there’s four of them, so I figured they could be the Beatles! John, Paul, Ringo and George!” 

“Normally, we don’t name them, it’s too hard to keep track of, that’s why they have numbers. Also, all these calves are girls.” He still laughed to himself as he leaned down to pick up the empty bottles and put them back in the truck. 

“Oh… Well, it doesn’t matter, I think their names are still cute, who cares. More fun than the numbers.” You nudged Javi playfully as you pulled the empty bottle away before throwing in the truck bed with the others. “Bye, Beatles!” You waved at the cows before hopping back into the truck. 

“You’re such a dork.” 

“Well at least I’m your dork.” 

“Yeah, I’m glad you are. You ready to head back?” 

“Let’s go cowboy.” 

As you headed down the dirt path, you could see the sun slowly starting to dip beneath the clouds, painting the sky to a beautiful orange and pink. You leaned over the center console, resting your head on Javi’s shoulder, as you snaked your arm under his, gently squeezing his hand as your fingers interlocked. There was something so peaceful and perfect about the moment, how you could almost feel the threads of each of your lives slowly becoming more intertwined with each moment you spent together. You could spend a million more nights just like these just sitting by his side, driving anywhere to do anything. It didn’t matter, as long as you were with him. You were so caught up in the beautiful fantasy of the moment, that you hadn’t even heard him over your daydreaming.

“Hermosa?” 

“Sorry, what did you say?” You shook your head, coming to. 

“I uh, I know you’ve already spent a lot of time here today with me and my dad, so you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I was um, wondering if you wanted to stay for dinner? Maybe spend the night here?” He shifted slightly in his seat, his fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel as he looked at you with his sweet, puppy dog eyes. 

“Really?” Your face lit up instantly, thrilled by the fact Javi wanted to spend more time with him and his dad. 

“Yeah, like I said, um, don’t feel like you have to, but-” 

“Javi.” You paused, gazing back at him. “I would love to.” You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as you leaned back over to rest your head against him again as you pulled back up to the house. As Javi put the truck in park and you pushed on the handle to open the door to hop out, you felt a tug against your wrist, drawing you back in. You turned back, Javi’s eyes looking you up and down, his tongue darting out between his lips before clenching his jaw. Without saying a word, you shifted back in your seat, Javi’s hands engulfing your face, as he pulled you in, meeting his lips with yours. As your mouths crashed into each other, you could feel your heart race, electricity flowing through your veins, feeling Javi pull you closer to him. There was something so desperate about it, like he was holding in something he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs that he just couldn’t say. 

I want you. I need you. I love you. 

You hoped those were the words sealed between his kisses. You hoped he felt the plea of your kiss, too. 

I want you, too. I need you, too. I love you, too. 

As you both slowly pulled away, your heavy breaths mingled in the few inches left between your parted lips, Javi’s traced soft and tender circles around the line of your jaw. 

“I really like you, Osita.” 

“I really like you too, Javi.” 

Those were the best words you could muster from the silent screams of your kiss. Those words would have to do, for now. 

“Do you wanna head inside? I’m sure your dad’s probably waiting for us.” You asked, regrettably. 

“I really don’t want to, but we probably should.” He huffed as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, giving you one last kiss on the head before you made your way in the house. 

As you entered through the front door, you could already hear Chucho in the kitchen tinkering with pots and pans and singing along to the Spanish radio station in the background. “So, do we have a guest for dinner?” Chucho spoke in between lines of the song, hearing that you and Javi had come through the front door. 

“If that’s okay?” You replied, now making your way into the kitchen to see the array of food that Chucho had spread across the countertops. 

“More than okay, mija. I’d hope you’d stay.” He said with a soft smile as he wiped his hands the apron he was wearing, worn and faded letters across the front reading “Besar a Cocinero” (kiss the cook). 

Rubbing his hand against the small of your back (grazing dangerously close over ass) as he stood behind you, Javi looked down and smiled. “Osita, do you wanna take a shower before dinner? I can throw all your clothes in the wash too if you want?” 

“What? Are you saying I smell bad?” You took a step back, crossing your arms against your chest. 

“Well, no, I mean, uh-” Javi tripped over his words. 

“Javi, oh my gosh, I’m just kidding.” You said, playfully swatting at him. “I know I probably smell like a troll, so a shower would be great. I didn’t bring any extra clothes, though.” 

“A cute troll, at least.” Javi laughed, having to remind himself that the majority of the things that came out of your mouth were completely unserious. “You can borrow some of mine until yours are clean. Here, I’ll show you where the shower is.” He took you by the hand as he led you down the hallway, stopping at the first door on the right, leading into Javi’s bedroom. His room was neat and minimal, not much in it besides his bed, dresser, desk and a bookshelf with some scattered picture frames and a few unpacked boxes in one of the corners. You stood there for a moment, looking around at the space as Javi walked across the room to open the door where his bathroom was. “Shower’s in there, towel’s hanging up on the door, and I’ll set some clothes out for you on the bed when you’re done.” 

“Thanks.” You smiled as you bit down on your lip, taking a slight step towards him. “You um, probably want my clothes I’m wearing right now for the laundry, right?” 

You had been trying so hard to not completely fall apart at the sight of Javi all day. Especially with wanting to make a good impression on his dad, it took everything in you to keep yourself from crawling all over him from the minute you walked through the door. You knew there was nothing you could really do about it right now, but Javi’s not so subtle point to close and lock his bedroom door also hadn’t gone unnoticed. Slowly, you stretched your arms over your head to strip your T-shirt, dropping it on the floor as Javi’s jaw went slack, his eyes undressing you faster than you could undress yourself. You undid the button and zipper to your shorts, pushing them down your hips as they dropped around your ankles, leaving you in just your bra and underwear, and Javi just about speechless.  

“Fuck me.” He whispered to himself as he stepped into you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his big hands sliding up your back as he unclipped your bra, helping it slide off your shoulders before tossing it into the pile of the rest of your clothes. You let out a silent moan as he kissed down your chest, his tongue flicking against each of your pebbled nipples as his hands worked down your hips, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs before they fell to the floor. You could feel his bulge straining against the denim of his jeans pressed against your leg as he ran his hands up and down your curves, planting hot and heavy kisses across your body. You wished so badly that he could toss you on his bed and fuck you right then and there, but you had to keep reminding yourself that his dad was only a few feet from Javi’s room before you got too carried away, a fact that Javi seemed to have forgotten given the way he was all over you. 

You outstretched your neck to nip at his ear letting out a long and shaky breath before you whispered. “I think you got all the clothes you need, I’m gonna get in the shower now.” You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as you pulled away from his grasp, shooting him a quick wink as you giggled, closing the door to the bathroom. You left Javi standing in the middle of his room, breathless and riled up as he stood next to the pile of your clothes on the floor. He placed one hand on his hip, the other running through the dark locks of his hair before reaching down to grab your clothes as he mumbled to himself. 

“God, I’m so fucked.” 

You felt like a new person stepping out of the shower now that you had scrubbed yourself clean of the dirt, sweat and grime from the day. You wrapped yourself up in the fluffy navy blue towel that Javi had left for you, drying the damp ends of your hair before opening the door to step back into Javi’s bedroom. Sitting on top of the plaid comforter that covered his bed, you noticed a pile of clothes Javi had left for you with a post it note placed on top. You picked it up, laughing to yourself as you read it. 

Hope these clothes are okay. Sweatshirt and sweatpants are for later, gets cold outside at night. FYI, payback’s a bitch. 

See you soon, beautiful, 

-J 

Wondering what Javi had planned for outside, you set the gray sweatpants and maroon crewneck aside, picking up the white t-shirt with “Texas A&M Swimming” written across the front. You slipped it on over your head before shuffling on the black pair of cotton sleep shorts Javi had left for you, rolling them up a few times so they didn’t slide down your waist. You reached for the doorknob of the bedroom, opening it slightly as you heard Javi and his dad’s voices from the kitchen, listening in on their conversation. 

“I know Dad, believe me. I’ll tell her, just… I can’t yet. I don’t wanna fuck this up.” 

“Well don’t take too long. She is a special girl, Javier. You and I both know it. Don’t you think there was a reason I let her tend to your mamá’s garden? You know very well I don’t trust just anyone with Lucia’s flowers. I barely trust you. She would always tell me how much she couldn’t wait for you to bring home a woman you loved, a daughter to have to spend time with there. Dios la bendiga (God bless her), I wish she could have met her. Your mother would have loved her. You two are perfect for each other. Ella es tú media naranja. (She is your better half, your soulmate). I know you love her, Javier. I find it very hard to believe that she doesn’t love you too.” 

I want to tell her. I know you love her. She loves you too. 

The words rung in your ears as your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest. Your mouth hung open as heat crept up your cheeks, your mouth stretching with the widest, stupidest grin. Holy shit. Part of you wished you hadn’t heard it, only because now it was taking every ounce of you to not bust through the door, kiss his sweet face and tell him how much you loved him too. Thank God there was a part of your lovestruck brain that still had some sense of awareness left to it, as you heard the thumps of Javi’s footsteps towards the door, followed by a “I’m just gonna see if she needs anything before I get in the shower.” You scrambled back from the door, trying to do anything you could to make it look like you hadn’t just overheard the conversation in the kitchen. You pretended to fold your damp towel as Javi opened the door, leaning against the frame. 

“Hey, you’re done! Shower okay? Tried to find whatever I could I thought would fit you best.” 

“Yeah, great! Shower was great, clothes fit great, everything is great. Perfect.” The words spilled out of your mouth in the least casual way possible, sounding frantic and panicked as they fell from your lips. 

“Osita, you okay? Are the clothes not comfortable? I can get you different ones? Or if you’re worried about spending time with just you and my dad while I’m in the shower, I-” 

You cut him off, standing up on your tiptoes and balling up the shirt covering his chest in your fists as you reached up to press your lips into his, lingering for as long as you could before breaking away. “I’m sorry, everything is perfect. Seriously. You just surprised me when you came in. I’m excited to spend time with your dad and the clothes are just fine. Not sure what I’m gonna need these sweatpants and sweatshirt for but I’m excited to find out.” 

He let out a small huff of relief as he ran his fingers through the wet ends of your hair before kissing the top of your head. “Like I said, I’ve got it all taken care of, you’ll see. I just have to shower real quick, and Pops said food should be done real soon. Does that work?” 

“Absolutely. Have a good shower, ya stinky cowboy.” You winked as you gave his butt a quick squeeze before heading out into the kitchen. 

“Ah, Mija!” Chucho’s cheerful greeting making you smile as he milled around the kitchen, whistling along to the upbeat song on the radio. “I hope you’re hungry! It seems like I am getting in the habit of making way too much food. I am glad we have an extra mouth with us tonight to help us.” 

“I’m glad to be here! I’m starving. Is there anything else you need help with?” You asked, looking around at even more photos that hung in the kitchen, quickly realizing how fond Chucho was of displaying his loved ones in every inch of the house. You caught a glimpse of another photo of Javi hanging above the dining room table, this one of him in a cap and gown, holding his diploma as he stood next to his mother and father, proud looks beaming across their faces. Chucho noticed you staring, his heart warmed by the genuine interest you seemed to have of his life in photos spread across his home. 

“No, honey. Already finished, just cleaning up a few things, but that can wait for later. That’s when Javier graduated from college. We were so proud of him.” He gestured, pointing over to the picture you were staring at. 

“Yeah, I bet. You can tell from the picture how happy you are for him. It’s very sweet.” You smiled, seeing how much both of his parents loved and cared for Javi. 

“Do you want to see more?” You turned around to face Chucho, almost giddy with excitement. 

“More what? More pictures? Yes please!” You grinned. 

“Perfecto. Take a seat, Mija, I’ll be right back.” He pointed over to the kitchen chair as he made his way over to the living room, rustling around and returning with 4 large stacks of photo albums. “I’m glad you asked about these now, Javier would kill me if he saw me getting all of these out for you, but they are too good not to share. Here, start with this one.” He opened up the first book with a worn, brown leather cover, flipping to the first page. It was filled with pictures of Javi’s mom, still pregnant and setting up the nursery, followed by newborn Javi, face scrunched and covered in a dark brown head of hair. “Lucia was so excited when she found out she was pregnant. We had tried for so long, and by some miracle, along came sweet Javier. Oh, did she love him.” He spoke as you continued flipping through the pages, smiling with each turn, honored to hear about Javi’s life, long before your paths crossed. “Oh, this is a good one!” He stopped you, pointing to a photo of Javi, who couldn’t have been older than 3 or 4, sitting on top of a cow with a sweet, toothy grin. “He’s always loved animals. He would cry every night, mamácita, papácita, mas vacas, por favor! (Mommy, Daddy, more cows, please!) because he loved listening to those cows moo so much.” 

“That’s so adorable. It’s so nice that you have so many photos of him.” You smiled, opening up the next book on the table. 

“Good to have memories of all of the moments that live in your heart.” Chucho sighed as you flipped to a photo of Javi blowing out candles on a birthday cake, sitting on his mother’s lap, as she cheered for her son.  

“Jesus, Pops, are you serious?” Javi rolled his eyes as he strolled into the kitchen, setting down your extra sweatpants and shirt on the counter before running his towel through his damp curls, knowing exactly what his dad was up to. 

“Javi, you were such a cute kid! What happened?” You and Chucho snickered to yourself as Javi put a hand on his hip, running his tongue across his teeth, trying his best to not give away the fact he couldn’t have been happier to see how well the two of you were getting along. 

“Fine, fine. Looks like we’ve been busted, Mija. We’ll save the rest of these for another time.” He chuckled as he scooped up the photo books, bringing them back to the living room. 

“You’re no fun.” You nudged Javi, as he stood next to you, now freshly showered and wearing a dark blue shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants that were about to make you fall out of your chair. 

“You should be thanking me. I’m saving you from all the awful, awkward photos of me from after I was a cute kid.” 

“But those are the best ones! Besides, with how handsome you are, I have a very hard time believing you ever went through an awkward stage.” 

“And that’s why the rest of the photo books are getting put away.” He laughed as rested his hands on your shoulders as he stood behind your chair. “Dinner ready, Pops?” 

“Sí, on the counter, in the bag ready to go.” He pointed to the counter where a large brown paper sat. 

“Wait,” You paused, confused by the exchange. “Why is it in a bag? I thought we were eating dinner together here?” Your brows scrunched in surprise as you looked back and forth between Javi and his dad. 

“Don’t worry about me, mija. I’ve already taken up too much of your time. Besides, señor romance tiene otros planes.” (Mr. Romance has other plans). 

“Oh, so what are these plans, Mr. Romance?” You giggled, you and Chucho equally enjoying the embarrassing Hell you had both put him through today. 

“Jesus Christ. Alright, we’re going now, bye Pops.” He mumbled as he grabbed the extra clothes and food from the counter, you following close behind him as you made your way to the front door. 

 

“Alright, so where are we off too, Mr. Romance?” You giggled as Javi started up the truck after throwing the food and clothes in the backseat. “I hope whatever you’re doing is because you think I don’t want to spend time with your dad.” 

“Osita, that is the least of my worries. You two together are turning out to be a much bigger pain in my ass than I ever expected.” He joked as the two of you laughed, both relieved by how well you had been getting along with his dad. “No I just, I know I said it before, but I’m so glad you came today. You didn’t have to do any of this, no one… no one’s ever done anything like this for me before. Just, I don’t, I, um-” 

You slipped your fingers between his free hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Of course, Javi.” Had no one ever really done something this nice for him? In your mind, today couldn’t have been an easier decision. You were so glad that he was letting you into his life- to meet his dad, to see where he grew up, to learn more about his past and what shaped him into the man that had your heart. It killed you to think that something like this was something he’d never had. “So, is this what you kept telling me you had planned today? Where are we going? Are we eating there? Is it outside?” 

“Jesus, you really do hate surprises, don’t you? Remind me to never throw you a surprise birthday party. Don’t worry, you’ll see. You trust me?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Good. Close your eyes.” 

“Close my eyes, what are you-”

“Osita, please.” 

“Fine, fine.”

You leaned your head back over onto his shoulder, closing your eyes as you drove in a comfortable silence, bright golden sunset spilling into the windows of the truck as traveled along the worn dirt path. Between a gap in the fencing along the side of the gravel road, Javi turned, driving the truck through part of the open field before swinging it around, turning the front of the car facing the direction you came. 

“Can I open my eyes yet?” 

“What happened to you being so patient? Keep them closed, give me one minute.” 

“Not even a little peek?” 

“Osita…” 

“Okay, okay, no peeking, I swear!” You kept your eyes shut as you heard the door close on Javi’s side of the truck, the backdoor also opening and closing after he shuffled around, grabbing what you assumed were the things from the backseat. You heard the bed of the truck slam down before Javi was back rustling around in the front of the truck, reaching over your lap into the CD’s. You could hear him quickly pick one out before sliding it into the CD player, the “Rumors” album by Fleetwood Mac now playing over the speakers. 

“Good pick.” You smiled, eyes still shut tight. “You almost done yet, Mr. Romance? Or is this how I finally go? You’ve hid the axe murderer act long enough and now you’re gonna bury me out in the field, never to be seen again? I guess it is clever on your part.” You laughed to yourself, knowing what the look on Javi’s face must have been as he rolled his eyes at you, even if yours were still scrunched shut. You heard him shuffle out, opening your side of the car. 

“Give me your hand, you dork.” You felt his palm under yours as your fingers wrapped around his wrist as his other hand held your hip, helping you scoot out of the truck. He guided you to take a few steps before releasing your hand. “Okay, now you can open.” 

You wanted to give him some witty remark, a sarcastic jab, anything to give him a hard time about how he had made you wait for whatever this mystery surprise was, but as you opened your eyes, you were left speechless. Looking out in front of you, you saw nothing but miles of green grass, hills rolling up and down along the horizon as far as the eye could see as the sunset bursted with a ferocious orange and pink glow, peeking just above the clouds, slowly getting ready to sink into the land below. “Javi…” You paused for a moment as you took in the view. “This is beautiful.” 

“Yeah, it is.” With Javi standing behind you, you assumed that he too, was taking in the spectacular view. And to him, he was. It just wasn't the sunset that he was referring to. 

You turned around, remembering the rustling you had heard in the backseat, wondering what Javi had been doing in the truck bed. The back of the truck was filled with blankets and pillows with Chucho’s bag of food sitting on the edge. Still speechless, you stared back at Javi awestruck by the moment. “C’mere.” He said, patting  the truck bed, lifting you up and following close behind you. You both snuggled in under the blankets, Javi wrapping his arm around you as you laid into his chest, watching the sun slowly fade away behind the clouds. “Good surprise?” He leaned into you, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your arm. 

“Great surprise.” 

Reaching his hand across your body, he cupped the side of your face, turning it toward his as his lips gently pressed against yours. He pulled back for a moment, foreheads pressed against each other, mouths barely separated, like he was looking for the right words to say but he just couldn’t find them. “Kiss me.” You whispered. “Kiss me, Javi.” 

You could feel your weight shift as Javi rolled you over, his body now hovering over yours as your mouths crashed together in a way that was deep and intense without being frantic or rushed. His tongue dipped in your mouth, your lips parted between soft, breathy moans, pressing his body deeper into yours with each kiss. “Javi…” You whined, ache building between your legs as you felt his length pressed against you from his sweatpants, already hard and heavy against your thigh. He slowly began to make his way down your body, hot, wet kisses covering your belly as he pushed your shirt further up your body. He tugged at the waistband of your shorts, carefully helping you shimmy them down as his hand dipped between your legs, his fingers barely grazing against your entrance. “Javi, pleaseeee.” You moaned again, begging to have him do something to ease the throbbing burning in your core. 

The sweet whispers of his name on your lips made his cock twitch. Early today, after you had wrecked him in his bedroom, teasing him as you stripped your clothes in front of him before getting in the shower, he was going to take his sweet time, making you beg for his touch. But as he took you in, every beautiful inch of you, his willpower crumbled in an instant. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you slow and deep, for you to feel all of him, to watch you come undone as you whispered his name, pulling him closer and closer into you with each stroke. He wanted to fuck you so that you could feel those 3 words he just couldn’t say to you yet. 

“I know, baby.” His fingertips pressing just a little further, feeling how absolutely soaked you already were. “Wanna take my time with you, okay? Wanna make you feel good.” His voice sent shivers down your spine as you nodded, his fingers now slowly sinking deeper into you, making your back arch from his touch. He kissed along the inside of your thighs as his calloused thumb began to gently rub around your clit, his fingers already drenched as they began to steadily rock in and out of you. His kisses made their way from your thighs to your clit as he carefully flicked his tongue, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm underneath him. “Always so wet for me, pretty girl.” The hot breath of his words danced along your heat as his dark brown eyes locked with yours. He dipped his head back down, licking a long, broad strip against your bundle of nerves as you rocked your hips back and forth over his fingers. His tongue swirled around your clit, knowing exactly how to make you fall apart as you moaned with each touch. 

“It feels so good, Javi. Fuck, babyyyy.” You whined, feeling your cunt clenching tighter and tighter around his thick fingers as his mouth worked its magic between your legs. With each thrust of his hand and lap of his tongue, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer, the pressure in your stomach starting to build, your breaths heavy and shaky. 

“I know you’re close, Osita. Let go, baby. Come for me. I got you.” He knew his words were just what you needed to send you over the edge. With a few more thrusts of his hands, he could feel your pussy flutter around his fingers. 

“Javi, Javi, Javi, Jaaahhhhh-” You whimpered as you felt the heat grow at the base of your spine, pleasure shooting through your body as you came around his fingers, your jaw slack as you felt your legs shake. 

“Such a good girl for me, Hermosa. My good fucking girl. Tastes so sweet, baby.” He praised, slowly pulling his hand out of your heat, dipping his fingers into his mouth, sucking your juices off of them. He sat up on his knees, still between your legs, the outline of his already hard dick pressed against his sweatpants as he pushed them down his hips before pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. He leaned back down over you, grabbing one of the blankets by his feet to cover your bodies. 

“Are you afraid a cow’s gonna see your bare ass?”  You giggled, still coming down from your high as you gestured to the blanket now covering both of you. His arms outstretched outside of your shoulders as you laid on your back, he joined in your laughter, dropping his forehead down and burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

“You’re ridiculous, Osita. Fuck, I love it. I love everything about you. Fuck. You’re fucking perfect.” He stared at you for a moment, his sweet brown eyes taking in all of you, like he couldn’t believe you were real. That you were his.

 He swallowed, his mouth parted like there was more he was desperate to say but couldn’t quite get out. You pushed your head up off of the pillow underneath you, gently pressing his lips against yours, his hand shifting you cradle the back of your head, his fingers tugging at the ends of your hair as he set you back down. He shifted back slightly, using his hand to stroke himself a few times before flushing his hips against yours, his cock lined up with your entrance. Neither of you said anything, feeling at a loss for words in the moment, both of you silently seeming to agree that something about now felt different than all the other times before. You barely nodded your head as Javi slowly sank into you, taking his time, letting you adjust to him inch by inch before bottoming out, stopping for a moment as you let out a soft moan that Javi quickly swallowed with a kiss. He began to rock his hips back and forth, taking his time, gradually filling you deeper and harder with each thrust, his whispers hot against your neck. 

“Fuck baby, I’ll never get enough of you. My fuckin’ perfect girl.” 

“Javiiiii” You whined, your arms wrapping around back, nails pressing into his shoulders as his cock hit the spot inside you that lit you ablaze. His hand snaked between your bodies, reaching down to rub your clit, still slow, taking his time with each graze of his fingertips as his pace held deep and steady. Every thrust in and out of his hips had you wrecked as he filled you so deeply and intensely, moaning his name as you wrapped your legs around the small of his back, doing anything you could to bring him closer to you. 

“I know, Hermosa, I know. Does it feel good, baby? Knowing you’re mine? That you’re the only one I ever wanna make feel like this?” 

His words had you whimpering as he nipped at your neck, his hand gripping on your hip, thrusts becoming faster from your sounds. “Oh my god, yes, Javi. Fuck, it’s all yours. I’m all yours.” You wanted nothing more, for him to be the only one whose sweet words made you fall apart, the only one who ever came close to making you feel this way. You could feel the coil in your belly beginning to snap as the pad of his thumb rubbed rapidly against your clit, his cock driving into you as your vision went white. 

“I know you’re close, Osita. I can feel it. Wanna see you when you come. Wanna see your beautiful face, pretty girl.” The brown pools of his eyes filled with want and need as they locked with yours. You could feel your foreheads touching, his damp curls brushing against you with each push of his hips, your bodies melting into each other as you felt the coil inside your belly snap.  

“Fuck, Javi, fuck, baby, I’m gonna, gonna-.” Your orgasm flooded through your body, pleasure shooting through every inch of you as you wrapped yourself around Javi. It was so intense, the way the feeling crashed through you, how everything about him had you completely wrecked, how tightly you could feel yourself clenching around his length as you came. 

Watching you come completely undone under him, Javi found himself quickly falling apart at the sight of you. Each stroke was faster and sloppier than the last, like he was desperate to show you how badly he wanted you, needed you. He could feel the sweet tingle of his release building, his brain going blank as the words fell from his mouth. “That’s it baby. Fuck, Osita. Gonna cum so deep inside you, fuck you full of me. Fuck, I can’t believe you’re mine. Soy tuyo, Osita. Mi corazón es tuyo. Es todo para ti. Eres mi todo, Osita. Te am-ahhhhhh.” (I’m yours, Osita. My heart is yours. It’s all for you. You’re my everything. I love yo-). He could feel each throb of his cock pulsing as he spilled into you, riding out his high with short, shallow thrusts, making sure every last drop of him was inside your walls. He melted into you, his body collapsing onto yours as your heavy breathes synced, chests rising and falling together. 

You paused for a moment before you spoke. You replayed his words in your head over and over again, not sure what you were trying to convince yourself of. You weren’t sure of everything he had said, trying to piece together the Spanish you knew as you came down from your high, but if there was one sentence you knew for sure, it was the last one, even if it had gone unfinished. 

Te amo. I love you. 

“Javi…” You paused, your heart practically beating out of your chest. “What was the last part you said?” 

Javi froze. You could feel his Adam’s apple bob against your chest as he swallowed, his head still buried in your neck. You waited for what felt like an eternity before he pressed himself off you, rolling over, laying beside you. “I uh, I don’t, um, I don’t remember all of it.” He tripped over his words, eyes scrunched tight, like he couldn’t bear to look at you out of fear of what he had said. 

“Javi. Javier Jesús Peña. Please. Please tell me what you said.” You placed your hand on his chest, forcing him to open his eyes and look at you, your face pleading, practically begging to hear the words that had fallen from his lips once more. 

“I’m yours, Osita. My heart is yours. It’s all for you. You’re my everything. I… Fuck.” You could see the tears welling behind his eyes after he ran his hand over his face. You moved your hand from his chest to under his jaw, cradling his cheek. 

“Javi… Say it. Please.” Your words met his ears barely above a whisper. He paused, taking one more trembling breath, staring off into space for a moment, like he was praying with everything he had left in him that you really did want to hear it. 

“Osita… Fuck. I… I love you.” 

“Javi,” Your voice shook as you felt the tears trickle down your cheeks, rounding and red from the grin growing across your face. “I love you too.” 

It was only for a moment that you saw his face mirror yours before you could feel his hands grasping around your face, pulling you in for a kiss that made you feel like fireworks were exploding inside you. He squeezed his arms around you, a mix of laugher and tears leaving your body as he pulled you on top of him, wrapping you in his embrace. 

“Really?” He questioned, his words still shaky as he smiled at you, running his trembling hands through your hair. 

“Of course, Pendejo. Of course I do.” You both laid there for a moment, breathing in sighs of relief and joy, soaking in every moment of that four letter word. You loved him. He loved you. Javier Peña loved you. 

You rolled over, both of your bodies curled in the blanket on top of you, staring into the sky, now fading into a deep darkness, speckled with spots of shining stars above you. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Nothing else besides the two of you. Up until now, there were few things in life that you had been sure of. On a Wednesday in late May, you knew one of those sure things was that you had fallen head over heels in love with Javier Peña. And now, you knew one of those sure things was that Javier Peña loved you too.

..............

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @persephone-girl

[vesppperoro]

Could I request headcannons of the Hazbin Hotel Crew/Staffs Reactions to a batman or moon knight like hero appearing in hell and somehow drastically taking down its crime. ( Let's just say they got the information from the news or something)

Hazbin Hotel Staff with Batman Sinner!Reader (Male)

Includes: Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Niffty, Cherri Bomb, Sir. Pentious, Alastor.

A/N: This request is so silly I love it. Sorry if some of them were too short! I couldn’t really think. I’ve been busy cramming for college exams </3

Charlie Morningstar

When she first figured out that the crime rate was decreasing, she was happy. Conflicted, but happy.

Maybe people are actually trying to be better! But.. why?

She didn’t know.

That was, until, she came across a thief one night. She could handle herself perfectly fine, but something stopped the man.

A figure appeared behind the princess of hell and scared off the thief.

She turned around and saw you! Your face was covered with a mask, so she couldn’t tell who you were.

Before she could say anything, you dashed off. She tried to follow but you disappeared into the night.

She told Vaggie about you and they proceeded to look for you.

They almost gave up. If it wasn’t for you showing up at the front of the hotel, of course.

Charlie was overjoyed! But how did you get into Hell anyways? Why were you so hellbent on fixing the crime rates in Hell?

At least you were trying to help.

You support her idea BIG TIME. You even became the protector of the Hotel! If anyone dared to oppose it or attack it, they’d be swiftly dealt with by you.

She’s OBSESSED with your gadgets. She loves how unique they all are!

She obsesses over your cape.

You two have definitely sung a song together. Maybe something relating to wanting to redeem sinners, Heaven being in the way, and to not relent due to that fact.

Vaggie

She was weirded out by you, to be honest.

It’s HELL, there’s always gone be crime. Why would someone try to stop it?

Either way, she tried not to think about it.

However, when her girlfriend showed interest, she lightened up. Anything for her, Y’know?

You two have pretty deep conversations, especially about the world.

You two spend nights together sometimes! You’re up during those hours anyways and she is as well (sometimes).

You both watch over the hotel and have fun while doing so.

I’d say you both became close friends.

Angel Dust

He treated you like any other man. He flirted with you ALL the time.

He teases you about your name and sexualizes the hell out of your outfit.

He didn’t really get too close. That was, until, you came with him and the group whenever Charlie and Vaggie went to talk to heaven.

When you nearly beat the shit out of Valentino, Angel began to see you as more than some dude who protects the hotel.

The fact you didn’t even show that you were doing it for him made it better. He wouldn’t have to suffer for it the next day.

You tried to break him out of the contract, to no avail. He was happy you cared for him, however.

You’re very protective over him. He appreciates it, but he never admits it.

He loves your gadgets but he always asks if you have sex gadgets. You always deny it but he still asks.

You probably go with him and Cherri whenever they go out so you can make sure they’re safe.

Husk

He also found you weird. As I stated before, it’s HELL, why would you try to destroy crime rates?

You and him became friends after a while though.

You two have deep conversations as well.

You two are probably best friends.

Songs!! You two have sung together before.

He likes when you mess with his wings. He would never admit it, but he does.

When he saw you in action one day… oh my. THAT was the day his respect for you grew.

That and the few times you stuck up for him when it came to Alastor.

You two hang out often. You’re almost never seen apart!

Niffty

Oh boy.

She calls you the “bad boy killer”. She kicked your shins when she first met you.

You grew on her though…. When you tried to help her kill Valentino.

She LOVES climbing you.

Whenever she’s not cleaning, she’s on your shoulder.

You sometimes have to stop her from stabbing someone or burning down the kitchen.

She’s a little much, but you find her adorable.

She likes coming with you whenever you fight crime.

She says it’s because she likes seeing bad boys be punished.

It kinda scares you but you don’t say anything.

Cherri Bomb

Honestly, she found you hot.

How protective you are over them, the way you fight, the way you’re mysterious.

She likes your little bombs because.. yk… explosives are her thing.

She hangs out with you at times.

She took you out once with Angel and… it didn’t end too well.

You ended up beating the shit out of some HORRID people.

She thinks you’re cool. You two aren’t besties, however.

Whenever you fought with them in the war, she loved how you still protected everyone.

She tends to your wounds sometimes and calls you a dumbass.

She won’t admit it, but she wished you two were closer.

Sir. Pentious

He LOVES your gadgets! He’s an inventor too, y’know.

You two often talk about your projects and weapons.

Sometimes he asks you to make something with him, which you do.

He’s very interested in your stuff lol. He loves your costume too!

His Egg Boiz found your suit AWESOME.

You made them tiny versions of yours and they LOVED it.

You two are relatively close.

He finds you very cool. He likes hanging out with you!

Just two buds with awesome weapons bonding.

Alastor

Like some others, he found you weird.

He still doesn’t like you. He finds you to be annoying.

You actually care for the hotel, so he’s not very fond of you.

You take down crime rates, which is one of the main reasons he gets deals and shit in the first place. Because of this, you make him angry.

You also don’t smile much, so he teases you about it.

He treats you like he treats Lucifer.

You’re just another nuisance to him.

Your power does worry him a bit.

And he also doesn’t like the fact your technology is more advanced. It reminds him of Vox.

Maybe tried to strike a deal with you, but you declined.

[hopelesslys-world]

50 SHADES OF FUCKED UP | CH. 1

Pairing: Christian Grey x innocent!reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, reader is kind of a bimbo, heavily detailed smut, basically porn, loss of virginity, harsh language, anger issues, stalking, obsession, jealousy, controlling behaviour, DOM-SUB themes, BDSM Expand considered to be portrayed with incorrect/poor etiquette, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse/assault, statutory rape.

Tell me if I missed anything...( As you can see most of the warnings will appear in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...

Y/M/N: Your Middle Name

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

*𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

𝐈 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐈𝐍 the reflection of the mirror. Damn my hair—it just won’t behave! And also damn Isabella Clark for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission.

I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at my reflection in the mirror, you blow dry your hair into oblivion and with the help of some hairspray you managed to put your soft curls into place.

Now you finally look somewhat presentable.

Bella is my roommate, and she has chosen today of all days to succumb to the flu. Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she’d arranged to do, with some mega-industrialist tycoon I’ve never heard of, for the student newspaper. So I have been volunteered.

I have final exams to cram for, one essay to finish, and I’m supposed to be working this afternoon, but no–today I have to drive a hundred and sixty-five miles to downtown Seattle in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our University, his time is extraordinarily precious—much more precious than mine–but he has granted Bella an interview. A real coup, she tells me.

Damn her extra-curricular activities.

Bella is huddled on the couch in the living room. “Y/N, I’m sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another six to reschedule, and we’ll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can’t blow this off. Please,” Bella begs me in her rasping, sore throat voice.

How does she do it? Even ill she looks gamine and gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair in place and green eyes bright, although now red-rimmed and runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympathy.

“Of course I’ll go Bella. You should get back to bed. Would you like some Nyquil or Tylenol?”

“Nyquil, please. Here are the questions and my mini-disc recorder. Just press record here. Make notes, I’ll transcribe it all.”

“I know nothing about him,” I murmur, trying and failing to suppress my rising panic.

“The questions will see you through. Go. It’s a long drive. I don’t want you to be late.”

“Okay, I’m going. Get back to bed. I made you some soup to heat up later.” I stare at her fondly. Only for you, Bella, would I do this.

“I will. Good luck. And thanks Y/N/N – as usual, you’re my lifesaver.”

Gathering my things, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to the car. I cannot believe I have let Bella talk me into this. But then Bella can talk anyone into anything.

She’ll make an exceptional journalist. She’s articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful – and she’s my dearest, dearest friend.

The roads are clear as I set off from Vancouver, WA toward Portland and the I-5. It’s early, and I don’t have to be in Seattle until two this afternoon. Fortunately, Bella’s lent me her sporty Mercedes CLK.

I’m not sure Wanda, my old VW Beetle, would make the journey in time. Oh, the Mercedes is a fun drive, and the miles slip away as I floor the pedal to the metal.

My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Grey’s global enterprise. It’s a huge twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect’s utilitarian fantasy, with Grey House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors.

It’s a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that I’m not late as I walk into the enormous – and frankly intimidating – glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby.

Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, blonde young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She’s wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate.

“I’m here to see Mr. Grey. Y/N Y/L/N for Isabella Clark.”

“Excuse me one moment, Miss Y/L/N.” She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand self-consciously before her. I am beginning to wish I’d borrowed one of Bella’s formal blazers.

My outfit definitely didn't suit for something like this, but at the same time I've neve done anything like this.

I love my skirts, basically all of my closet is filled with skirts, dresses, sweaters and the occasional jeans and formal pants.

For me, this is smart. I tuck one of the escaped tendrils of my hair behind my ear as I pretend she doesn’t intimidate me.

“Miss Clark is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Y/L/N. You’ll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor.” She smiles kindly at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in.

She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front. I can’t help my smirk. Surely it’s obvious that I’m just visiting. I don’t fit in here at all. Nothing changes, I inwardly sigh. Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators pastthe two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than I am in their well-cut black suits.

The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. The doors slide open, and I’m in another large lobby – again all glass, steel, and white sandstone. I’m confronted by another desk of sandstone and another young blonde woman dressed impeccably in black and white who rises to greet me.

“Miss Y/L/N, could you wait here, please?” She points to a seated area of white leather chairs.

Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seattle skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It’s a stunning vista, and I’m momentarily paralyzed by the view. Wow.

I sit down, fish the questions from my bag, and go through them, inwardly cursing Bella for not providing me with a brief biography. I know nothing about this man I’m about to interview. He could be ninety or he could be thirty.

The uncertainty is galling, and my nerves resurface, making me fidget. I’ve never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews, preferring the anonymity of a group discussion where I can sit inconspicuously at the back of the room. To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading a classic British novel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. Not sitting twitching nervously in a colossal glass and stone edifice.

I roll my eyes at myself. Get a grip, Y/N. Judging from the building, which is too clinical and modern, I guess Grey is in his forties: fit, tanned, and fair-haired to match the rest of the personnel.

Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blondes? It’s like Stepford here.

Taking a deep breath, I stand up.

“Miss Y/L/N?” the latest blonde asks.

“Yes,” I croak, and clear my throat. “Yes.” There, that sounded more confident.

“Mr. Grey will see you in a moment. May I take your coat?”

“Oh please.” I struggle out of the long black coat.

“Have you been offered any refreshment?”

“Um – no.”

Oh dear, is Blonde Number One in trouble?

Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk.

“Would you like tea, coffee, water?” she asks, turning her attention back to me.

“A glass of water. Thank you,” I murmur.

“Olivia, please fetch Miss Y/L/N a glass of water.” Her voice is stern. Olivia scoots up immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.

“My apologies, Miss Y/L/N, Olivia is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Grey will be another five minutes.”

Olivia returns with a glass of iced water.

“Here you go, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you.”

Blonde Number Two marches over to the large desk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She sits down, and they both continue their work.

Perhaps Mr. Grey insists on all his employees being blonde. I’m wondering idly if that’s legal, when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, attractive man with short dreads exits. I have definitely worn the wrong clothes.

He turns and says through the door. “Golf, this week, Grey.”

I don’t hear the reply. He turns, sees me, and smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Olivia has jumped up and called the elevator. She seems to excel at jumping from her seat. She’s more nervous than me!

“Good afternoon ladies,” he says as he departs through the sliding door.

“Mr. Grey will see you now, Miss Y/L/N. Do go through,” Blonde Number Two says.

I stand rather shakily trying to suppress my nerves. Gathering up my bag, I abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door.

“You don’t need to knock – just go in.” She smiles kindly.

I push open the door and stumble through the impressively giant office. I notice a man his face hidden behind the computer. But in a moment he raises his head and approaches me.

That's when I see his face.

Holy Cow, his young nothing like I'd imagined him.

“Miss Clark” He extends a long-fingered hand to me. “I’m Christian Grey.”

So young – and attractive, very attractive. He’s tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly dark copper colored hair and intense, bright gray eyes that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice.

“Um. Actually–” I mutter. If this guy is over thirty then I’m a monkey’s uncle. In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static.

I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate. “Miss Clark is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Grey.”

“And you are?” His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it’s difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite.

“Y/N Y/L/N. I’m studying English Literature with Bella, um… Isabella… um… Miss Clark at Washington State.”

“I see,” he says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile in his expression, but I’m not sure.

“Would you like to sit?” He waves me toward a white leather buttoned L-shaped couch.

His office is way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there’s a huge modern dark-wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is white – ceiling, floors, and walls except, on the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite – a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.

“A local artist. Trouton,” says Grey when he catches my gaze.

“They’re lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary,” I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently.

“I couldn’t agree more, Miss Y/L/N,” he replies, his voice soft and for some inexplicable reason I find myself blushing.

Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personality of the person who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts, and retrieve Bella’s questions from my bag.

Next, I set up the mini-disc recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the coffee table in front of me. Mr. Grey says nothing, waiting patiently – I hope – as I become increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I pluck up the courage to look at him, he’s watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he’s trying to suppress a smile.

“Sorry,” I stutter. “I’m not used to this.”

“Take all the time you need, Miss Y/L/N,” he says.

“Do you mind if I record your answers?”

“After you’ve taken so much trouble to set up the recorder – you ask me now?”

I flush. He’s teasing me? I hope. I smile shyly, unsure what to say, and I think he takes pity on me because he relents. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Did Bella, I mean, Miss Clark, explain what the interview was for?”

“Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year’s graduation ceremony.”

Oh! This is news to me, and I’m temporarily pre-occupied by the thought that someone not much older than me – okay, maybe six years or so, and okay, mega successful, but still – is going to present me with my degree.

I frown, dragging my wayward attention back to the task at hand.

“Good,” I swallow nervously. “I have some questions, Mr. Grey.” I smooth a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“I thought you might,” he says, deadpan. He’s laughing at me. My cheeks heat at the realization, and I sit up and square my shoulders in an attempt to look taller and more intimidating. Pressing the start button on the recorder, I try to look professional.

“You’re very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?” I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed.

“Business is all about people, Miss Y/L/N, and I’m very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn’t, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well.” He pauses and fixes me with his gray stare.

“My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is, it’s always down to good people.”

“Maybe you’re just lucky.” This isn’t on Bella’s list – but he’s so arrogant. His eyes flare momentarily in surprise.

“I don’t subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Y/L/N. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing theirenergies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said ‘the growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.’ ”

“You sound like a control freak.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Y/L/N,” he says without a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him, and he holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens, and my face flushes again.

Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His overwhelming good-looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he’d stop doing that.

“Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things,” he continues, his voice soft.

“Do you feel that you have immense power?” Control Freak.

“I employ over forty thousand people Miss Y/L/N. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility – power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell up, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so.”

My mouth drops open. I am staggered by his lack of humility. “Don’t you have a board to answer to?” I ask, disgusted.

“I own my company. I don’t have to answer to a board.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

I flush. Of course, I would know this if I had done some research. But holy crap, he’s so arrogant. I change tack.

“And do you have any interests outside your work?”

“I have varied interests, Miss Y/L/N.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Very varied.”

And for some reason, I’m confounded and heated by his steady gaze. His eyes are alight with some wicked thought.

“But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?”

“Chill out?” He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good-looking.

“Well, to ‘chill out’ as you put it – I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits.”

He shifts in his chair. “I’m a very wealthy man, Miss Y/L/N, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies.”

I glance quickly at Bella’s questions, wanting to get off this subject.

“You invest in manufacturing. Why, specifically?” I ask. Why does he make me so uncomfortable?

“I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?”

“That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts.”

His mouth quirks up, and he stares appraisingly at me. “Possibly. Though there are people who’d say I don’t have a heart.”

“Why would they say that?” I ask, intrigued by that information.

“Because they know me well.” His lip curls in a wry smile.

“Would your friends say you’re easy to get to know?” And I regret the question as soon as I say it. It’s not on Bella’s list.

“I’m a very private person, Miss Y/L/N. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don’t often give interviews,” he trails off.

“Why did you agree to do this one?”

“Because I’m a benefactor of the University, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn’t get Miss Clark off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire that kind of tenacity.”

I know how tenacious Bella can be. That’s why I’m sitting here squirming uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, when I should be studying for my exams.

“You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?”

“We can’t eat money, Miss Y/L/N, and there are too many people on this planet who don’t have enough to eat.”

“That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world’s poor?”

He shrugs, very non-committal. “It’s shrewd business,” he shrugs, though I think he’s being disingenuous. It doesn’t make sense – feeding the world’s poor? I can’t see the financial benefits of this, only the virtue of the ideal. I glance at the next question, confused by his attitude.

“Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?”

“I don’t have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle. I’m very singular, driven. I like control – of myself and those around me.”

“So you want to possess things?” You are a control freak.

“I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do.”

“You sound like the ultimate consumer.”

“I am.” He smiles, but the smile doesn’t touch his eyes. Again this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can’t help thinking that we’re talking about something else, but I’m absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The temperature in the room is rising or maybe it’s just me. I just want this interview to be over.

Surely Bella has enough material now? I glance at the next question.“You were adopted. How far do you think that’s shaped the way you are?”

Oh, this is personal. I stare at him, hoping he’s not offended. His brow furrows. “I have no way of knowing.”

My interest is piqued.

“How old were you when you were adopted?”

“That’s a matter of public record, Miss Y/L/N.” His tone is stern. I flush, again. Crap.

Yes of course – if I’d known I was doing this interview, I would have done some research. I move on quickly.

“You’ve had to sacrifice a family life for your work.”

“That’s not a question.” He’s terse.

“Sorry.” I squirm, and he’s made me feel like an errant child. I try again. “Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?”

“I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I’m not interested in extending my family beyond that.”

“Are you gay, Mr. Grey?”

He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. Shoot. Why didn’t I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out? How can I tell him I’m just reading the questions?

Damn Bella and her curiosity!

“No Y/N, I’m not.” He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. He does

not look pleased.

“I apologize. It’s um… written here.” It’s the first time he’s said my name. My heartbeat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck my loosened hair behind my ear.

He cocks his head to one side.

“These aren’t your own questions?”

The blood drains from my head. Oh no.

“Err… no. Bella – Miss Clark – she compiled the questions.”

“Are you colleagues on the student paper?”

I have nothing to do with the student paper. It’s her extra-curricular activity, not mine. My face is aflame. “No. She’s my roommate.”

He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, his gray eyes appraising me. “Did you volunteer to do this interview?” he asks, his voice deadly quiet.

Hang on, who’s supposed to be interviewing whom? His eyes burn into me, and I’m compelled to answer with the truth.

“I was drafted. She’s not well.” My voice is weak and apologetic.

“That explains a great deal.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters. “Mr. Grey, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes.”

“We’re not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting.”

Andrea hesitates, gaping at him. She’s appears lost. He turns his head slowly to face her and raises his eyebrows. She flushes bright pink. Oh good. It’s not just me.

“Very well, Mr. Grey,” she mutters, then exits. He frowns, and turns his attention back to me.

“Where were we, Miss Y/L/N?”

Oh, we’re back to ‘Miss Y/L/N’ now.

“Please don’t let me keep you from anything.”

“I want to know about you. I think that’s only fair.” His gray eyes are alight with curiosity.

Where’s he going with this? He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very… distracting. I swallow.

“There’s not much to know,” I say, flushing again.

“What are your plans after you graduate?”

I shrug, thrown by his interest. Come to Seattle with Bella, find a place, find a job. I haven’t really thought beyond my finals.

“I haven’t made any plans, Mr. Grey. I just need to get through my final exams.”

Which I should be studying for now rather than sitting in your palatial, swanky, sterile office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze. “We run an excellent internship program here,” he says quietly.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is he offering me a job? “Oh. I’ll bear that in mind,” I answer, completely confounded. “Though I’m not sure I’d fit in here.”

Oh no. I’m musing out loud again.

“Why do you say that?” He cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” I’m uncoordinated, scruffy, and I’m not blonde.

“Not to me,” he murmurs. His gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from his scrutiny and stare blindly down at my knotted fingers.

What’s going on? I have to go – now. I lean forward to retrieve the recorder.

“Would you like me to show you around?” he asks.

“I’m sure you’re far too busy, Mr. Grey, and I do have a long drive.”

“You’re driving back to WSU in Vancouver?” He sounds surprised, anxious even. He glances out of the window. It’s begun to rain. “Well, you’d better drive carefully.” His tone is stern, authoritative.

Why should he care? “Did you get everything you need?” he adds.

“Yes sir,” I reply, packing the recorder into my bag. His eyes narrow, speculatively.

“Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey.”

“The pleasure’s been all mine,” he says, polite as ever.

As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.

“Until we meet again, Miss Y/L/N.” And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I’m not sure which. I frown.

When will we ever meet again? I shake his hand once more, astounded that that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.

“Mr. Grey.” I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, he opens it wide.

“Allow me to escort you outside.” He gives me a small smile.

He's so polite now.

“Sure, Mr. Grey,” I smile, and his smile widens. Together, we walk into the foyer. Andrea and Olivia both look up, equally surprised.

“Did you have a coat?” Grey asks.

“Yes.” Olivia leaps up and retrieves my black, which Grey takes from her before she can hand it to me. He holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on.

Grey places his hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If he notices my reaction, he gives nothing away. His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting – awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his.

The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here. When I turn to look at him, he’s leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It’s distracting. His burning gray eyes gaze at me.

“Y/N,” he says as a farewell.

“Christian,” I reply. And mercifully, the doors close.

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[ series masterlist ]

DON'T BE AFRAID TO SPAM WITH LIKES AND COMMENTS. I WOULD ALSO APPRECIATE IT IF YOU COULD REBLOG THIS POST <3

[singularattitudeofasafetypin]

Crazy Forever

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie’s been acting weird all day and Reader’s determined to figure out why!

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Jason Carver sucks but that’s nothing new, mild self doubt/criticism.

A/N: Expect grammatical/spelling errors! I’ve proofread as best as I can but this is my first time writing exclusively on my phone since my laptop is bust. I hate it so much! I hope you like this though! I think it’s cute!

Please don’t copy my work!

The cafeteria was packed. Lunchtime saw the entire school crammed into one space, queueing for food, jostling through crowds and yelling to be heard above the din. Jocks and band geeks, preps and losers alike.

In one corner sat the basketball team. They took up three tables on their own, prattling and jeering. Their cheerleader girlfriends perched on their laps, laughing hysterically at whatever pathetic joke had just been told.

In the opposite corner, across the sea of students, sat you and the rest of the infamous Hellfire bunch. Their discourse was no less lively but infinitely more substantial. At least, you assumed so. You weren’t really listening.

Your attention was fixed on the curly haired metalhead sitting next to you. Eddie hadn’t spoken since he sat down. He picked at his food, ignoring the conversation and your questioning gaze.

Your eyes narrowed. Something had to be wrong; Eddie was never this quiet.

In fact, your boyfriend had been acting weird all day!

*

Everything had seemed normal this morning.

You didn’t have first period together so Eddie hugged you tight outside your classroom just as he always did on Thursdays. He squeezed you within an inch of your life, lamenting your imminent separation. How, oh how, could he hope to survive without you?

‘You’re literally gonna see me again in an hour!’ You let out a giggle as he started peppering kisses all over your face and neck. His featherlight lips tickled as they grazed your skin again and again, until your cheeks ached from smiling.

‘Maybe,’ Eddie relented, pulling back so he could take you in, ‘But that’s forever!’

He gazed down at you with his best puppy dog eyes, a childish pout tugging at his mouth. You couldn’t help kissing him. Up on tiptoe, hands on his shoulders, you pressed your lips to his and almost immediately, you felt the frown break and smile against you.

He squeezed his arms around your middle one last time before stepping back and sweeping a deep bow. ‘I shall count the seconds, my lady!’

With a kiss to your hand, he walked backwards down the hall, not wanting to take his eyes off you. You blew a final kiss as the bell rang. He mimed catching it before he turned and bucked it round the corner. Out of sight.

*

Eddie was right. That class did last an eternity.

You pushed through the crowded hallways anxious to see him again. You spotted your boyfriend a few meters away and yelled his name. Without giving him time to reply, you ducked through the throng and threw your arms around him.

That was the first time things had seemed odd.

He didn’t shrug you off exactly. In fact, he hugged you just as tight as before. Almost. His heart just wasn’t in it.

You broke and a confused frown flitted across your face. Where was the boy who, only an hour ago, made himself late to his own class for just a few more seconds with you?

You decided not to take it personally. Eddie’s mind was so vast he often ended up lost inside it, chasing thoughts along their labyrinthine courses. No doubt he’d been distracted by an inkling of an idea for a campaign or a melody for a new song.

Nosing affectionately at his shoulder, you walked hand in hand. You made a mental point to make your notes extra detailed this lesson.

Eddie wasn’t going to be paying attention.

*

‘Hey! Hey Eddie! Wait!’

The next time things felt strange was when Gareth started hollering down the hall. You spotted him, fighting through the bustling crowd and squeezed Eddie’s hand to make him stop.

‘Huh?’

He was still lost in a dreamworld.

You nodded; he followed your gaze. Gareth pushed through the last wall of people, all but collapsing at your feet. He was bent double, catching his breath.

‘What happened?’

Gareth looked up with a wicked grin, ‘I just got off the phone!’ He straightened, ‘Remember that guy we met last week? The one who runs that club the next town over? The Sunrise?’ Gareth was practically tap-dancing with excitement. ‘He said he wants us to open Wednesday night!’ He threw his hands out, anticipating his friends reaction.

It never came.

‘Oh, that’s awesome, man!’ Eddie’s voice was little more than a monotone. His features pulled into an imitation of enthusiasm but both you and Gareth could tell it wasn’t genuine.

Gareth visibly deflated but before he could probe any further, Eddie shouldered his bag and kept on walking to class. He looked at you instead.

‘What was that?’

You smiled apologetically, ‘He’s probably just in shock,’ you offered, ‘It’ll hit him in half an hour, I’m sure!’

He shrugged managing a half-hearted laugh. ‘That’s so exciting though Gareth! Do you know if it’s a regular slot?’

He shook his head, ‘No, but if we do good…’ he trailed off, thinking what it could mean for the band. By all accounts the Sunrise over in Clivesdale wasn’t much bigger than the Hideout but still, it was progress. Exposure!

‘I can’t wait to come see you guys there!’

He grinned, ‘Thanks… you’ll talk to Eddie?’

‘Yeah,’ you nodded, ‘I’ll talk some sense into him!’

With a smile, you turned and hurried to catch up with your boyfriend, wondering what could have gotten into him?

*

Whatever it was still hadn’t gone away by fourth period!

O’Donnell was blabbering on about the celestial symbolism in Romeo and Juliet, a topic dull enough the second time round, you didn’t know how Eddie could cope on the third.

He had his head in his hands. Maybe he was tired? You though, maybe that was it?

But Eddie wasn’t asleep.

Between glances, you saw him shifting, dragging his pen over a page in swooping, sloping curves, outlining nothing in particular.

‘Mr Munson!’ O’Donnell snapped. You both flinched at the loud noise. Eddie looked up, not even bothering to make a sarcastic comment. ‘How does Mercutio’s introductory scene foreshadow his demise in Act Three?’ She demanded, arms crossed and a look of contempt on her face.

He took a second to focus then mumbled a garbled answer that seemed to satisfy. She hummed, rolling her eyes and turned back to the board. Eddie looked even more dejected than before. You weren’t having it.

Tearing a page from your notebook, you scribbled down the most ridiculous joke you could think of. When your teacher’s back was turned, you slid the paper onto your boyfriends desk and watched him in your peripheral.

He unfolded it and you saw his eyes comb over your handwriting, ‘What do you call a fish with no eyes?’ before he looked over at you with a raised eyebrow.

Grinning like an idiot, your pen scrawled the answer and passed it over. ‘A fsh!’

It was awful, you knew, but just the kind of thing that would normally send Eddie into hysterics. You waited for his face to turn red and tears to prick in his eyes but he barely even cracked a smile. Just rolled his eyes and sent back the note with a scribbled, ‘Ha Ha!’

You slumped in your seat, glaring at his spiky penmanship.

Something was definitely wrong.

*

That brought you to lunchtime. You were at a loss.

If he was this tired, he’d have skipped class and napped in his van, probably insisted you come with him.

If it was a story or a song he was concocting, he wouldn’t look so miserable!

Jeff and Gareth had just sat down and Dustin started regaling everyone with teasers for his campaign.

This Friday was his first time DM’ing for Hellfire. He was giddy with nerves and desperate for some brotherly advice from his idol. When none came, his face fell.

‘That sounds amazing Dustin!’ You said, ‘Don’t you think so Eds?’ You nudged him pointedly, hoping to elicit a response.

‘Mmm,’ was all you got.

You sighed, ‘I reckon Henderson’s gonna give you a run for your money!’ Perhaps riling him up would work, but Dustin’s modest protests gave him plenty of cover. You weren’t giving up that easily!

‘I bet you’ll even let him sit on the throne!’

The table fell silent.

Eddie’s throne was notoriously a touchy subject. Rumour had it, he’d once cancelled a session because the drama club had stolen it for their show. It was sacrilegious to suggest such a thing. The party watched with bated breath.

‘Whatever,’ Eddie mumbled, still refusing to meet your eye.

They gaped.

That was the last straw. You seized his hand, ignoring his complaints, and dragged him out of the cafeteria.

‘What’s with them?’ Dustin watched you go.

Jeff chuckled, poking his pasta with his fork, ‘You know,’ He shrugged, ‘Couple stuff!’

‘What?’

‘They’ve probably gone to make out or something!’

The three freshmen looked perplexed. Gareth snickered, ‘Henderson, my dear boy, when a man and a woman love each other very much…’

‘Ew!’

‘Gross!’

‘Shut up!’

*

You pulled Eddie down the corridors, leaving his questions unanswered.

‘Where are we going?’ He whined, trailing behind you and almost tripping over his own feet. You didn’t speak until you were almost outside. The parking lot was visible through the double doors at the end of the hall. You stopped short, turning to face him.

Eddie looked frustrated. His chocolate brown eyes confused under his furrowed brow. Yours searched him a last ditch effort to figure out the problem on your own.

You stepped closer. Before he could open his mouth, you jabbed him in the shoulder and darted away. ‘Tag! You’re it!’

Eddie let out a huff, taken by surprise. ‘What?’

You’d run the length of the hall, he was still standing there. ‘Can’t catch me!’ You teased.

‘Baby, I’m really not in the mood!’ He trudged after you. His steps were slow and laboured but you kept skipping backward, maintaining the space between you.

‘Yeah, coz you’re too slow!’ You goaded before pushing through the doors and running out into the sunlight.

Eddie cursed under his breath. He took off after you.

You were halfway across the parking lot by the time he got outside. Your laughter echoed back, spurring him on. Wind whistled in his ears, raked its fingers through his hair and clothes as he raced to catch you. Blood pumping through his veins, the ground thudding beneath his feet, Eddie heard his own laughter mingle with yours.

He was gaining on you.

Tarmac turned to earth, muffling your footfalls as you ran through the woods. You darted between trees like a wood nymph, laughing at the wide open sky as your lover chased after you.

Out of nowhere, arms closed around your waist, making you shriek as you fell tumbling into a heap. Somehow, Eddie managed to land beneath you, bearing the brunt of impact but just as quickly, he rolled you onto your back, pinning you to the ground by your forearms.

‘Got you!’ He declared.

You squirmed, still giggling. A tree root was digging into your back but you didn’t care.

Your plan had worked.

Eddie’s face was flushed, chest heaving. His eyes were sparkling and, framed by his soft curls, a dazzling smile had taken up residence on his lips.

‘That’s better!’ You wriggled an arm free to cup his jaw.

Eddie pulled back, ‘What is?’ Confusion dimmed the glow a little.

‘You!’ You laughed, ‘You haven’t smiled since this morning!’

He looked surprised, ‘Yes I have!’

‘Have not!’

‘How would you know?’ He retorted, climbing off of you and folding his arms. You sat up, an incredulous look spreading over your face.

‘Do you really think I wouldn’t have noticed you smiling?’

That caught him off guard. He ducked his head but you saw him blush. ‘So!’ Inching closer, you tucked your legs up and nosed against his shoulder. ‘What’s going on?’

‘What? Nothing!’

He flinched and looked away, like he was trying to shrink himself to the size of a mouse.

‘Must be a whole lot of nothing!’

‘What’s that s’posed to mean?’

Was he serious right now?

‘You didn’t say anything when Gareth told you you’ve got a new gig! You didn’t get excited about Dustin’s campaign-‘

Eddie tried to interrupt but you barrelled on, listing the incidents on your fingers, ‘You didn’t freak out when I said he could sit on the throne, and you didn’t laugh at my joke in O’Donnell’s’

‘I didn’t laugh at the joke,’ he cut in,’ because it was terrible!’

‘Hmm?’ You nodded sarcastically, ‘Try again Munson! You always laugh at my jokes!’

It took every bit of willpower he possessed to keep a straight face.

In school it was easy. He’d been wearing the mask for so long, but out here, alone with you, it was impossible. With you he couldn’t hide. With you, he couldn’t be anything but honest.

‘Watch out!’ You dug an elbow into his ribs, ‘that was almost a smile! You be careful!’

He ducked away again, pulling his hair across his face to conceal his ever widening grin.

‘Seriously!’ You moved closer, a softer tone taking over as you wound your arms around his and leant your cheek against his shoulder, ‘What’s going on?’

A breathy chuckle escaped his lips. A small insignificant sound but it meant the world to hear it. Eddie didn’t answer for a while but he wasn’t deflecting anymore. You could see the wheels turning, words writing themselves in his mind before he spoke them. You waited patiently.

‘Jason said something,’ he muttered, ‘I let him get under my skin.’

He felt you stiffen, ‘What did he say?’ The tension in your voice was thinly veiled. Eddie shrugged, hoping to calm you down,

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘It matters if it upset you!’

He felt your eyes trained on him. You weren’t going to let this go. He let out another sigh, hands picking at the earth, absentmindedly tearing up blades of grass and crumpled leaves. ‘He saw me saying goodbye to you before Click’s,’ a slight pause, your gaze didn’t waver, ‘Asked how long I thought I had until you came to your senses and broke up with me.’

Eddie scrunched up his nose, a bitter taste in his mouth from the poisonous memory. He still didn’t look up.

‘And I know! It’s stupid! I know what you’re gonna say, I shouldn’t let him get to me, but it’s just… I started wondering what would happen if one day you did… wake up and realise all the worst parts of me and I just-!’

‘I’m gonna kill him!’

‘Baby-!’ Eddie reached for your hand when you started to stand.

‘If he thinks he can go around talking to you like that!’ You were furious but stopped when you saw the look on Eddie’s face. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes, his mouth half open in a silent plea.

You sat back down and threw your arms around him instead. He pulled you closer, resting his head in the crook of your neck. It fit like it had always been meant to. You cradled his head in your hand.

The tears didn’t fall. Your warm embrace softened the sting, but he sniffed a few times, knowing he was safe if they did.

‘Eddie, I’m sorry!’ You murmured, stroking his hair gently. He just held on tighter.

You weren’t the only one who loved him, he knew that. He had Hellfire and the band and before them, Uncle Wayne, but you were the first time person he’d experienced who was ready to fight the bullies yourself. You didn’t settle for their disdain, refused to be complicit in their disgust. You were ready to fight for him.

He let out a shaky sigh as you leant back to look at him, cupping his cheeks in your palms. ‘If loving you means I’ve lost my senses, I hope I stay crazy forever!’

His red rimmed eyes welled up at the conviction in your eyes, in your voice. You pressed a tender kiss to his mouth, sealing your words as a promise.

Eddie melted against you, relishing your touch. When you broke, his cheeks were wet but his eyes a little brighter than before.

‘There you are!’ You beamed, thumbing away a stray tear and watching the soft upward curve on your boyfriends mouth. ‘There’s my smiley boy!’

You kissed him again and instantly felt the smile widen against you. Eddie kissed back, wrapping you in a deep embrace, filled with all the enthusiasm you’d missed before.

You giggled as your noses bumped together and before long, he was laughing too.

*

The school bell rang in the distance but neither of you had any intention of going back to class. You stayed outside among the trees for the whole of fifth period, laughing and joking until your sides hurt and you were certain Eddie had forgotten the cruel words.

He gushed about the band and their new opportunity, agonised over the Setlist while you teased him about what you might wear to see them play.

As you wandered in the vague direction of school, you talked through the hints Dustin had dropped about his storyline and the worries he expressed.

‘Kid’s got nothing to worry about! He learnt from the best!’

‘Oh did he now?’

‘Of course he did!’ Eddie mocked offence, then frowned. ‘But you are gonna have to tell him you were kidding about the throne!’

‘No way! You know I couldn’t bear to see his little face fall!’

‘You shouldn’t have got his hopes up then!’

*

The school building came into view. You stopped, lingering hand in hand on the edge of the tree line. The familiar green and orange stripes looked cold and foreboding. Instead of a beacon for school spirit, the tiger motif on the side of the wall seemed menacing.

Eddie squeezed your hand, ‘Back into the fray, my lady?’

You nodded, ‘I meant it, you know? I’m gonna kill Jason!’

Eddie laughed, ‘You’d better not! I don’t have enough money to bail you out of jail!’ He shoved you playfully but you wouldn’t relent.

‘Nobody takes away my baby’s smile!’

Eddie caught your other hand, grazing his lips over your knuckles, a reassuring gesture and a pledge of gratitude. You hugged his arm all the way back to class.

*

This time, when you passed him another terrible joke, Eddie nearly had to excuse himself. His cheeks were bright red. Tears of restrained laughter streaming down his face with a hand clamped over a Cheshire Cat grin as his curls shook ever so slightly.

You snickered quietly, watching him in the corner of your eye. You wondered what you wouldn’t do just to see that smile.

Jason Carver went home with a black eye that night!

***

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it please reblog or comment and let me know what you thought!

Masterlist

Taglist: @neewtmas @sadbitchfangirl

[dual1pa]

prom

warnings: using she/her pronouns, lanugage, all around fluff, heavy makeouts in car

not really proofread

18+ ONLY Y’ALL

enjoy :)

All she thought about was prom. She’s been looking forward to the very special night since she was a freshman at Hawkins High.

She was more than halfway through her senior year and she was ready to graduate and get the hell out of that place. However, the only thing keeping her going: PROM

She already cut out several potential prom dresses in the paper and taped them to her bedroom wall to create a large collage and has it narrowed down to two. They were both equally as perfect, but she just couldn’t decide. 

Of course, she had the perfect boy in mind to be her prom date: Eddie Munson. However, he cringed at every prom poster he walked past in the hallways. 

He wasn’t the type of guy to “dress up.” A simple jean jacket and black pants would suffice his forever wardrobe.

She, of course, fell for him in the 10th grade. He sat next to her in English class. It wasn’t right, of course, but she let him look at her tests to help him pass the class — which he did. The two were complete opposites but clicked instantly. 

One night, she invited him over for a study session since her parents were away on business. One thing lead to another and they ended up making out all night on the couch. 

They’ve been happy ever since. 

Returning back to the now, she tapped her pencil on her neatly written history notes, waiting for that slow clock to finally hit 11:33 so she could see her boyfriend. 

Sure, they weren’t the most popular guys in school, but she really loved hanging out with his group of friends and learning all about Dungeons & Dragons.

She drowned Mr. Smith’s voice discussing the Revolutionary War ages ago. The thought of cramming more information into her brain gave her a migraine.

As soon as the bell rang, she quickly put her notebook and folder into her backpack and went to her locker to switch her books around for the second half of the school day. 

She put her three-number combination into the lock and opened it, admiring the photos she had in her locker — most of her and Eddie, but others of her friends and family. 

It wasn’t long before she felt arms wrap around her waist only to quickly be turned around and lightly pressed up against the locker beside her. 

Her beautiful brown-eyed boy was wearing his famous Hellfire Club t-shirt and his favorite jean jacket and pants. 

“Hi, angel,” he said, giving you a sweet kiss. 

“Hi, how was math?” 

“Fucking boring, as usual,” he sighed, “But I’m with you now and that’s all that matters.” 

She chuckled, “You really need to pass that final, Eds, If you’re not walking down that aisle with me, it’ll be the end for you.” 

“Speaking of... could you come over tonight and help me prepare for this test? I know I would fucking fail without your genius mind.” 

“Of course,” she smiled.

— 

At the end of the day, she grabbed the books that she needed for the weekend and met Eddie at his van where she was greeted with a passionate kiss. 

“Well, isn’t someone happy to see me,” she kissed him once more before throwing her bag in the back. 

“Before we leave, I have a question to ask you.” 

Her eyebrows raised, “Is it bad?” 

“What? No! Of course, not,” he reassured her. 

He gave her a large envelope, which she opened quickly. 

“I was wondering... uh.. would you like to go to prom with me?”

She squealed when she saw the physical tickets for “Hawkins High School Prom 1986.” 

She instantly wrapped her arms around Eddie’s neck and jumped into his arms. 

“Yes, yes. Of course I’ll go to prom with you. Oh my God!!” 

She pressed kisses along his lips, then over his cheeks, and then all around his face. 

“I’m sorry it’s not a big ask like I’ve seen others do but,” 

She interrupted him, “Stop that. I love it and I love you. Thank you for doing this for me.” 

“I want to because I love seeing you so happy.” 

_

Prom night came so fast. 

Thank God Hawkins High canceled classes for the day. 

She was up and awake early in the morning to start getting ready. Eddie begged her to sleep over the night before but she didn’t want him to see her or her dress before the big night.  

Throughout the day, she was so busy: she had a hair and nail appointment as well as getting her makeup done by her best friend, Rachel. 

She saved the best for last, putting on her dress. 

After weeks of deciding between those two dresses - she finally found the perfect one. 

Her mother helped her into the baby blue dress and zipped up the back.

“The love of your life is downstairs,” her sister, Elizabeth, said, “And he looks incredible.” 

She put on her white heels and took her time to walk down the stairs - holding on to the railing for dear life so she didn’t fall. 

Eddie was facing away from her until he heard her movements.  

He took one look at her and fell in love with her all over again.

She felt the same, he looked so handsome wearing a suit. 

He raced to the bottom of the stairs to help her with the final few steps. 

“You look... wow. You look so beautiful,” he leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. 

Deep down, she knew that all he wanted to do was pick her up, twirl her around and kiss her all over. However, since they were in the company of her family, he kept it PG. 

After several pictures, Eddie finally got her out of the house and into his van.

While driving back to school, his hand intertwined with hers on her lap. He constantly told her how beautiful she was in her dress.

Sure, they’ve been going out for a while, but he’s never seen her so dressed up before — and vice versa. 

She couldn’t take her eyes off her man and how hot he looked while wearing something other than his normal attire.

As he abruptly parked the car as far away from the school as he could — can’t have those popular kids hitting his car. 

He ran over quickly to help her out of the car. 

As he was about to lead the way, she pulled his hand back to bring him up against her chest. She leaned up to quickly kiss his lips a few times. 

“I’m excited for tonight, and you really do look so handsome,” she kissed him once more before joining the other students making their way into the gym.

“I kinda only really wanna for a few songs tonight, then get outta here,” she said. 

“My God, you are the woman of my dreams,” he kissed her cheek and twirled her. 

Since none of Eddie’s friends “believed” in Prom, she saw her friends waving to her to go sit with him. 

“Wow, Eddie, nice to see you not in your typical uniform,” her friend, Rachel said — sort of joking. 

He turned around to give the table a full 360, “You all like?”

Hoots and hollers came from the table as she held her boyfriend close. 

“We’re gonna go dance.” 

“Behave, you two,” her other friend, Veronica stated. 

“Don’t we always?” she asked. 

“Never!” Veronica joked.

— 

What felt like forever, the band finally played a slow song. She was still out of breath from dancing. 

Eddie pulled her in by her waist and swayed back and forth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. 

Deep down, Eddie didn’t find prom as bad as he thought it was going to be. He had the girl of his dreams in his grasp and never wanted the moment to end.

Every now and then, she felt him place gentle kisses on her temple as he held her close — like he was afraid someone was going to take her away from him. 

This was the moment she was looking forward to since her freshman year – before she even knew Eddie. She wanted to slow dance with her first love while feeling safe in his arms. 

She lifted her head to look into his eyes.

“What do you say we get out of here?” she asked. 

“Honey, I’d never thought you’d ask,” he grabbed your hand and swerved through the crowd of people. 

The cool Indiana air hit them as they walked back to Eddie’s van hand in hand.

Luckily, prom wasn’t close to being over so they had a chance to leave before everyone else. 

He opened the door for her and quickly ran over to his side. 

“What do you wanna do now?” he asked. 

As he was speaking, she pulled her dress up so she could leap over into the drivers seat. 

“Woah, what,” he said, hands instantly grabbed her waist to balance her. 

His hand reached down to pull the seat all the way back and down for more space. 

She spent the next few moments attacking his mouth with kisses. 

“What’s all this about?” he asked. 

“You did something very nice for me tonight. You knew how much prom meant to me so you sucked it up and went along with it. Thank you, Eds.” 

“I love seeing my girl happy,” he smiled, reaching to pull her dress up so he could feel her ass. 

“My uncle isn’t home tonight, wanna get outta here?” 

“I don’t have a change of clothes,” she pouted. 

“Oh babe, you won’t need any clothes,” he smirked.

[winged-self-indulgence]

This is so rushed and spun off from a truly unhinged discussion but I needed to write something for this AU while I have timeeee @tiffykins-yeah I hope this is at least semi entertaining lmao

The day Binary Star Hero turned against the heroes; the skies went dark.

Metaphorically of course. Strictly speaking, very little changed in the grand scheme of things. Although the NAHA, reporters, and anyone with a media presence certainly behaved as though the world itself had come to an end. Herschel was on the news lamenting the loss of the earth’s brightest star to the forces of darkness, news anchors would not shut up about the catastrophic consequences of losing the greatest hero mankind had ever known, and drama youtubers milked the controversy of the NAHA’s ignominious fall from grace as Binary Star Hero – real name Ray – exited the hero headquarters followed by a bevy of interns, office workers, and bottom-rung employees. Employees who, with vicious innocence, detailed the NAHA’s horrendous working conditions.

“We didn’t even have dental,” one sighed despondently. “My friend’s teeth haven’t been the same since that rock hero went on a rampage in the office.”

When asked the reason they had chosen to follow the new villain – was it blind worship? Stockholm syndrome? Were they being threatened in any way? – the gathering just scoffed.

“He’s paying my medical bills,” one replied. “The NAHA didn’t even want to pay for my insulin. I had to argue with like 5 different people to get it added to my benefits package.”

“Wait, you were getting benefits? I’ve been working on minimum wage for years!”

“You guys were getting paid?!”

At that point, the hero formerly known as Binary Star Hero attempted to fly away from the commotion, causing one of the former NAHA employees to yell something to the effect of “quick, follow that tacky sweater!” Which caused the crowd to peal off after the rapidly shrinking red dot in the sky, leading to several traffic obstructions, and signaling the start to a villainous career change.

Ray stared at clothing rack in front of him, at the five mannequins arranged in various dramatic poses, and finally at the group of expectantly waiting…what to call them? Underlings? Sure, that worked. The underlings stared back at him, some carrying more fabric while others held sewing kits, needles, thread, and baskets of accessories.

There was no need to read their minds to understand what they all wanted, but he still felt the need to ask. “What is this?”

“For your villain rebranding, the team decided on an aesthetic overhaul,” the one at the front announced brightly, gesturing to the steel rack that had been crammed with outfits in a range of dark colours – purples, indigoes, heavy shades of grey and even denser blacks. Some had capes, most did not. “Of course, this would all be easier if you would simply decide on a new name, but I suppose we can whittle down the choices later.”

Ray flashed back to the moment he’d walked past the conference room – a massive underground addition to his lair (he didn’t call it that, but the PR team were very Committed To The Bit) – and seen a horde of them gathered around the whiteboard and shouting suggestions at the person at the front. On the interactive surface were at least 50 names, though Ray only got through Lunar Eclipse and Superordinate Gravitational Collapse before he’d decided to leave that problem for Future Ray to sort out.

Unfortunately, the future had come. “This is completely unnecessary,” Ray plucked at the sleeve of one of the outfits and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was in fact not made of impossibly tight spandex. “I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

Another employee stepped up, swiping the screen of the iPad with a finger. “Sir, [MC] will be clocking into the afternoon shift in approximately one hour. Would you like to pick up your coffee then?”

“Hm,” Ray rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What’s on my schedule before that?”

“Uh, there’s a senator you hate giving a bigoted speech about drag queens, then you wanted me to remind you to rob that bank on 6th Avenue,” another swipe across the screen, “oh, and you’re out of ice cream.”

“The speech should be happening in the park across from the coffeeshop where [MC] works,” one of the team piped up. “We can reschedule the bank robbery and take some casual photos of you at the coffeeshop. The mid-afternoon sun would be great for the Total Eclipse social media page!”

“Dude, we discussed this! The team hasn’t decided on a villain name yet!”

“For the last time, we’re not choosing your idea!”

“Fuck you, Dark Star is a great evil name!”

“We are not linking him to a shitty 90s movie!”

“You take that back!”

Taking advantage of their distraction, Ray turned his attention to one of his favourite groups in the team. “Any updates?”

The employee saluted – Ray had given up on making them stop doing that – and pulled out her own iPad. “Sir–” (“Don’t call me that.”) “–they liked the post of you singing while playing the guitar and left a sweating emoji on the latest shirtless pic.”

“What about the one of me saving a kitten at the shelter?”

“Unfortunately, it was flagged for violence after one of the team forgot to edit out the part where you tossed someone through the walls for having an unsolicited picture of [MC] as their phone-screen background.”

“Ah, right,” Ray nodded reminiscently. “That did happen, huh. Upload it again, and monitor. If that’s all…”

He took off through the window, off to do various evil deeds and visit his favourite barista, while ignoring the screeching below as the two feuding members of the team finally stopped fighting long enough to notice his departure.

“FUCK, HE DIDN’T PICK A COSTUME!”

“SIR, AT LEAST CHANGE THE SWEATER!”

[mdhwrites]

I’ve been watching Amphibia while studying. I should definitely do a rewatch during the summer, but it’s occurred to me that Amphibia’s strengths are criminally underrated.

Amphibia feels like a more focused show than TOH. It has its flaws ofc especially in Season 3, but Amphibia’s cast comes across as a lot more developed than TOH’s cast. I mean, Andrias got a dedicated flashback episode and Belos didn’t???

Amphibia’s execution of the found family trope is one of the best things I’ve seen in animation. In contrast, I always felt that King, Lilith, Eda, and the Hexside crew are plot devices to get Luz where she needs to go. Eda has some depth but generally speaking TOH never “got into their heads,” unlike with the Plantars, Sasha, Marcy, Grime, and Andrias.

And I gotta praise Amphibia’s ending!!! I wish more kids cartoons embraced the idea of permanent, bittersweet change. The idea of letting things go but not forgetting them.

So while I agree Amphibia is more focused, I actually don't think that's what the bigger difference is between TOH and Amphibia that I think needs to be highlighted. No, instead, I'm interrogate something you said: Does Belos not get a dedicated backstory episode? For that matter... Does he potentially get MORE time spent on backstory than Andrias?

Andrias literally only gets The Core and the King. He actually gets VERY little screentime, mostly because the effects of his cruelty are more important than what he does himself. So for backstory, he gets 11 minutes. MAYBE you could stretch to like 12 or 13 if you want to include hints to Lief but that's all post her time with him. So 11 minutes because Andrias only gets one segment, not two.

What does Belos get?

Well... I think everyone just forgets about Elsewhere Elsewhen. That IS backstory. That is previous characterization. It's not a flashback but it is still interacting with a Belos earlier in the timeline, like a backstory exposition dump or a flashback does. And interacting with Philip is the main purpose of the A plot of the episode, even if it takes a bit to get to him and then he dips out before the end.

As the author of the journal though, he also counts for backstory whenever passages of the journal are told to us. It's unreliable but it is still previous characterization. So stuff like Eclipse Lake and the end of Looking Glass Ruins adds a little here and there.

Then of course... What the fuck do you call Hollow Mind if not a dedicated backstory episode to Belos? The majority of the run time is literally go through his brain, and his memories, to show his rise to power. His backstory. And while there is technically a B plot, it doesn't take up much time so probably at least a third of the episode is spent on this and these are 22 minute episodes. If just two thirds get spent on backstory, that's more than Andrias gets.

So why doesn't it feel like that? Why does it feel like we get a VERY complete version of Andrias' backstory, despite seeing cumulatively three days in a row of his life, while it feels like we were never told Belos'?

Efficiency. Amphibia is a VERY efficient work. It crams a LOT into its run times. It's part of why the episodes are so satisfying because they actually manage to tell complete stories with morals, sometimes their own A and B plots in an 11 minute segment and actually move the characters forward a full step within the span of that time. It does this while also being hilarious and action packed, much more than TOH or, honestly, a lot of cartoons. Not every episode segment counts for this but ESPECIALLY the important ones do and The Core and the King should be taught in classes for how to get across a character's motivations and backstory in a nuanced, breezy way while also being DENSE. AS. FUCK.

In eleven minutes, we get a clear idea of the utopia that Andrias used to live in, the cost of that utopia, the pressures upon him as a prince, how deep his relationships are with two other characters, Lief gets some genuinely good characterization that helps explain her choice, a logical progression of events that matches with the sillier side of Andrias we know of, an escalation and then a climax. We can VERY clearly see what Andrias lost, what he is trying to get back, and why he would want it back on multiple levels, both societal, familial and even personal, that will motivate into being a MONSTER for a thousand years. All while still being a lot of fun and having some really great jokes. It introduces so many elements but it never feels bogged down by any of this. Instead, it chose the PERFECT moment to get across everything it needed to and left very few questions that you as an audience couldn't figure out yourselves. This also all while being explicit about much of the motivation and what not instead of relying on background details.

Which TOH can't claim for Belos. In Elsewhere Elsewhen, we see that Philip hates witches, that his journal is unreliable and that he has ALWAYS been an asshole and a manipulator. That's befitting who he will be but doesn't actually tell us jack shit. It also includes I guess how he met the Collector but that's moving plot, not expanding on your villain. Because the journal is unreliable, it tells us very little to nothing about him except for some reason he donated his journal to the people he fucking despised. Then Hollow Mind shows how he came to power... But not who he is. Not his motivation, what he actually wants to accomplish besides murder, etc. like that. The paintings in the background tell you far more just by being far more suggestive of what he's been through.

TOH is fucking awful when it comes to density. Most episodes, not even just Belos, have the problem of only taking half steps. Each of Belos' parts are those half steps. Revealing only one or two elements when it easily could have shown more to be more satisfying. As an example: Amphibia has a GREAT episode between Ivy and her mom about rebellion, the consequences of fighting what your parent wants for you, why they might do the things they do, etc. like that. In 11 minutes, we get a genuinely complex relationship between Ivy and her mom who haven't had much talk about each other or their relationship up until now. Meanwhile, TOH decides to focus on Luz being expelled for the episode about Amity and Odalia, meaning Amity is in like... Three, maybe five minutes of that episode? A full minute of that being the intro to the episode where she's just showing off the abomaton?

Because it isn't actually focused on Amity, the relationship between Amity and Odalia isn't actually explored. Because they can't explore that, they also need to now make Odalia cartoonishly villainous so as to fit the fact that Luz also spends very little time with her due to making the conflict be about Hexside so we have to waste some time with a stock standard montage of Luz, Willow and Gus trying to get back in. And by the end, what is the resolution between Amity and Odalia? "Get in my way again and I will kick your fucking ass."

Much deep. Very brave.

There's TONS of stuff like this where Amphibia is genuinely the work trying to do more interesting, more meaningful and deeper things than TOH and managing to do it in literally half the time. If not even less. That breakneck pace is part of what makes Amphibia feel like a kids show but it's also what makes it just more enjoyable to watch.

Which actually makes TOH fit in better with our current era of streaming television. TOH is constantly baiting you for the payoffs it promises. It keeps swearing that its elements are deeper than they appear so make sure to tune in next week because this SURELY can't be all there is to, right?

Unfortunately, that is all there is to it. And once you realize that and look at the show with that sort of lens, it starts falling apart. It's part of why TOH should be thankful it was shortened. It lets people more easily claim that it just needed another season. Another fourteen episodes. That TOTALLY would have solved all the problems with episodes that happened even before the shortening.

That is extremely rarely how this works everyone. Sorry.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Hi, can I request comfort fic with Frank? I just don't really like how my life looks right now... I don't like my job, but don't know what else I can do so I'm stuck here... and I feel really lonely recently and like I don't know what to do with my life... and reading fics are one of the few things that brings me joy...

So I thought about a fic where reader is sad and to cheer her up Frank planned a whole day for them to distract her from not kind thoughts?

And I'm sorry that I kinda dumpt it on you... I have trouble with expressing/describing my emotions and I think that was the first time I expressed those feelings to someone... Of course if you don't feel like writing this you can freely ignore this message, thank you 🫶🏻

Anon, I absolutely feel your pain. I’ve been dealing with my own work drama for months now and some days it feels like I’m going to have to completely start over to be happy. I hope I did your request justice, and if you ever need to rant to someone, my DMs are open :)

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary:  Frank helps you when work is breaking your spirit.

warnings: swearing, hints of smut but nothing graphic

w/c: 3k

Digging your jagged nails into the flesh of your palms, you forced yourself to tune out the overwhelming plethora of stimuli that was currently bombarding you on the subway. Screaming children, the heat of bodies crowding around you, the shrieking of wheels on metal tracks, some old guy coughing up a lung at the back of the car, the bright fluorescent lights beating down on the dozens of people crammed in here like sardines. Fuck, you hated the subway. 

It was especially unbearable on days where you were already overtired from work—which, recently, seemed to be every day. This job was supposed to be your ticket to a good life and a stable future, but instead it was a joyless, energy-sapping, waste of your fucking time. Your coworkers were catty, your boss far too demanding for the bottom of the barrel wages you received, and the work itself was dreary. Each day you sat in that cubicle, you could feel the light inside you flickering, just waiting for one more lackluster employee review to be completely snuffed out. 

Clearly, you weren’t the only one who felt this way about your place of employment, given that over a third of the staff at your level had quit in the last two months. Unfortunately for you, this meant longer hours and crankier conversations with your superiors, who were consistently disappointed in your performance despite you efficiently accomplishing everything that was asked of you. 

Not only did longer hours lead to you getting overstimulated on the subway, but it meant you’d been spending less time at home with your boyfriend. You’d barely seen Frank this month, between his trips out of town and your rigorous schedule, and it was driving you up a wall. All you wanted was to let him wrap himself around you, petting your hair as you cried and holding you tight when you eventually fell asleep. Though, with the way your days were going lately, most of the time you didn’t want to be touched. You just wanted to shove crap food in your mouth and pass out before you had to go back to that hellscape in the morning. 

Frank was the kindest, most thoughtful partner you’d ever had, so he gave you plenty of space on the days you came home in an emotion-filled silence. He could read your moods pretty well at this point, and always respected your wishes, even if it meant he’d be nursing a beer in the living room alone until he went to sleep. You’d hoped that today would grant you enough energy to enjoy some time with him, but the world wasn’t that charitable. 

Shuffling off the subway amongst the masses, you let your body droop slightly as you trudged back to your apartment. Practically crawling up the stairs, you eventually reached the door—shoving it open in frustration as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. 

Instantly, you were greeted with the sound of soft music and the smell of onions and garlic cooking. Frank was in the kitchen, swaying almost imperceptibly to the song he was listening to, stirring a pot of what looked like tomatoes.  

“Hey, doll,” He greeted you softly, throwing you a smile over his shoulder but remaining planted at the stove, probably in an attempt to give you space.

“Hi.” Your voice was breathy and small, your stony face accented with glassy eyes. 

Frank knew better than to expect that everything would change in a day, but the sight of your crumpling face broke his heart. Stepping towards you with a furrowed brow, he tried for a small smile. “Another bad day?” 

You nodded, the force of the movement drawing two parallel tears down your cheeks. Sniffling, you didn’t respond, confident that your voice would crack if you did. 

“Do you want a hug?” Frank asked, hesitating a few feet from you as he waited for your answer. 

“I’m n-not sure, Frankie.” You admitted, more tears pooling as you did. “Not r-right now, I think.” 

Nodding in understanding, Frank crossed his arms, as if to keep himself from hugging you anyway. “Alright, sweet girl. Not a problem. Why don’t you go lay down while I finish dinner, hm?” 

Sighing, you nodded once, padding to the bedroom and collapsing into the blankets with a poorly stifled sob. Frank winced at the sound, his hands burning with an ache to hold you, to make everything better, but he couldn’t do that until you were ready. 

You’d only given him glimpses of the nightmare you were living. Whether you didn’t talk to him about it because you were worried it would scare him away, or because you didn’t trust him, he wasn’t sure—though the dark parts of his mind were convinced it was the latter. Regardless, Frank did his best to maintain a cozy home for you. It couldn’t be easy to have a mass-murderer-turned-government-hit-man as a partner, waiting around on your own for days while he worked odd jobs for Madani, but you’d never let it impact your love for him. 

You were thoughtful, sweet, and adorably shy—not to mention you balanced him out in ways he’d never expected. The pair of you brought out the best in each other, despite your peculiar relationship. You’d never made him feel distant or guilty for leaving, simply welcoming him back from his trips with open arms and eager eyes. Yet, the past few months your job had been eating at you, sapping the life from your beautiful eyes and leaving a listless husk of his girlfriend behind. 

He didn’t want to pry, far too afraid of snapping your already fragile composure and ruining the bond you shared. But every day you came home holding back tears, and it was going to kill him. He’d rip your office apart with his bare hands if it would end your misery, though he knew you’d never ask him to do that. 

So, instead, he did as much as he could—laying out his softest sweatshirt on your bed, playing quiet music, making a warm meal for the two of you to share—all in an effort to take something off of your plate, to remove an ounce of weight from your shoulders. After a week with no indication that any of this was helpful, he’d started scheming. 

Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too much begging to convince you to take an extra day off…

Stirring the tomato sauce one final time as he removed it from the heat, he tilted the pot over the cooked pasta, letting a ribbon of sauce drape over the noodles before giving it a quick stir. Scraping a dollop of sauce out of the pot with his finger, he popped the digit in his mouth, eyes closing in satisfaction at the array of flavors. 

Brushing his hands across his jeans, he plated two generous helpings of pasta, assuming you had worked through lunch once again, and set them in front of two chairs at your table. Steeling himself for the sight of your tear streaked face, he shuffled over to the bedroom and knocked softly. 

“Darlin’? You ready to eat?” Keeping his voice low, he gingerly opened the door. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light that managed to slip through your curtains, his heart squeezed at the sight of you sleeping, curled in fetal position. Your delicate hands clenched around your covers like they were your lifeline, your damp face squashed against his pillow. Biting his lip in thought, he returned to the main room to cover the pasta. 

Spending very little time tidying up, he wandered back into the bedroom, stripping out of his clothes in exchange for a pair of sweats and a worn Henley. Settling behind you with a book in hand, he slipped under the covers as unobtrusively as possible before his inner monologue made him pause. Would you even want him beside you? Was he crossing a line?

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about that for long as your sleeping form unconsciously wrapped around him, a small sigh falling from your lips as you nuzzled into his stomach. Smiling down at you, his free hand came up to stroke over your hair, his own grin widening when the soft touch made your lips twitch up in a sleepy smile. He thumbed through about a chapter of his book before you began to stir, shining lashes fluttering as your eyes opened. As the sleep disappeared from your eyes, Frank felt another wave of apprehension cresting in his chest, but the tide was quickly settled by your sweet gaze. Nestling into his side more deeply, you hummed in appreciation. “Hi, Frankie.” 

“Hi, sweet girl. Did you have a good nap?” A teasing mirth danced in his gaze, making you avert your eyes bashfully. 

“Mmm hmm. Sorry.” You murmured, rubbing your face against the fabric of his shirt. 

Clucking his tongue, Frank slid down to face you, tracing a thumb over your cheek. “No reason to be sorry, dollface. I’m glad you slept, you’ve been tired.” 

Sighing deeply, you traced the buttons on his shirt. “Work’s been a lot, recently.” 

“I figured as much, doll. Ya don’t gotta tell me anything, but I’m always here to listen, yah?” The tip of his thumb caressed your ear. 

Blinking back tears, you looked up at him apologetically, “I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark, Frank, it’s just so stupid and I—“

“Hey, hey, it ain’t stupid.” Frank tugged you impossibly closer, brushing tears off your face carefully. “If it bothers ya, it’s not.” 

“You just…” You drew in a ragged breath, the inhale catching on a sob. “You have so much to worry about already, and I don’t want to be a burden!” Bawling now, you felt your chest constricting at the thought of dumping more work onto Frank’s already overflowing to-do list. 

“You’re not a burden.” Frank spoke fiercely, looking deep into your eyes. “You have never been a burden, doll. Never.”

His words were a promise, you drank in his commitment with immense desperation, praying to forces you didn’t believe in that he was being truthful. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Frankie,” Your voice cracked on the admission. “I’m fine at my job, but nobody can see that, and I don’t feel satisfied by the work that I’m doing but it’s all I know! I can’t just quit, I don’t have any other plan, this is everything I’ve worked for and—“ Your ramble broke off into sobs, your breath hitching as Frank shushed you quietly. 

“I know, I know, doll. It sucks right now and I’m so sorry.” Rubbing a hand over your back, Frank encouraged you to breathe, waiting until your lungs could actually take in oxygen before continuing. “Sweetheart, if ya wanna quit, I’ll support ya. If ya wanna stick it out, I’ll support ya. Regardless of what you choose, I’ll be right here at the end of the day.” 

“I can’t quit, Frank, we need the money.” You whimpered. 

“Hey, we can figure it out if we need to. It ain’t a problem.” 

Nodding against his palm, you considered your options. “For now, I’ll stick it out. But, thank you.” 

“No need to thank me, honey. It’s my job to look out for ya, remember?” His sappy remark sparked a tiny smile from you. “You’re my girl, sweetheart. I’m always gonna take care of my girl.” 

Nuzzling into his chest, you stifled a yawn before abruptly looking up at him with wide eyes. “Shit, Frankie, what time is it? Did I miss dinner?” Wriggling out of his embrace, you wiped the lingering tears off your face before sitting up. Frank bit his tongue to keep from chuckling at your genuine concern. 

“Dinner is waiting for us, sweet girl. I’m in no rush.” Cradling your neck, Frank pressed a languid kiss to your lips, taking advantage of your distraction and flipping you on top of him. 

“Frank!” You squealed, beaming down at him with more happiness than he’d seen from you in weeks. 

“What?” He questioned innocently, gently leading your face back to his for another kiss. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You wondered aloud, returning the kiss but looking at him with feigned exasperation. 

“I ain’t allowed to love on you now?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You rolled your eyes, shuffling off of him and out of the bed. “C’mon, you sap. Let’s eat the dinner you made before it’s ruined.” 

As the night sky populated with stars, Frank doted on you insistently. He’d reheated your dinner, turned on your favorite movie, even brought you a pint of your favorite ice cream for dessert. You’d gratefully accepted his comforts, yet he still seemed to be holding back. As he puttered around in the kitchen, doing the dishes alone (he’d staunchly refused your help), you could see the wheels turning in his brain. 

“Frank, is something wrong?” You asked, picking at a stray thread along the seam of the blanket he’d wrapped around your shoulders, gazing over at him as your heart rate pounded anxiously.

“Huh?” Your timid question snapped him out of his thoughts, his hands nearly flinging the soapy dish across the room as he spun towards you. “Oh, uh, no. Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” 

Unconvinced, you nodded, nibbling on a hangnail poking out from your thumb. In an attempt to self-soothe, you shifted your attention back to the tv, but Frank’s energy still seemed out of place. 

Placing the last plate in the dishrack, Frank dried his hands, ambling over to you with a hesitant smile. “I gotta ask ya something, doll.”

Nervousness spiking, you nodded, tilting your head in anticipation of his query.

“If I asked ya to call in sick tomorrow, what would ya say?” Frank’s jaw was tight as he asked, clearly expecting anger in response.

“I’d say absolutely, love. Why do you ask?” “I was hopin’ you’d wanna take an extra day, to escape those assholes and maybe do something fun?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Frank Castle looked nervous. His eyes flirted between your gaze and his lap, his trigger finger twitching. 

“Oh, Frank, I’d love that!” You gushed, throwing your arms around him. He grunted in surprise, his own hands coming up to hold you in place so you didn’t topple off the couch. “I’ve been hesitant to take sick days because everyone’s been so on edge lately, will you sit with me when I call in?” 

“Course I will. If anyone gives ya trouble, they’ll have me to answer to.” Frank assured you with a menacing glint in his eye. Kissing his nose, you stroked a knuckle over his stubbled cheek. 

“Thank you, handsome.” 

“Anything for my girl.” 

True to his word, Frank made sure you were seated comfortably in his lap when you called in sick, both so that he could rub reassuring circles along your waist, and so that he could hook his chin over your shoulder to listen for any flack you might be given. Fortunately for your boss, they grumbled an “ok” and hung up quickly. Anything ruder than that, and they might have been on The Punisher’s shit list. 

Sinking backwards into your boyfriend’s sturdy chest, you shuddered. “Glad that’s over with.” Breathing deeply, you took a moment to collect your anxious self before standing to get ready for the day. Or, trying to stand, at least. 

A set of strong hands caught your hips, yanking them backwards to hold you in Frank’s lap. 

“Frank!” A small fit of giggles burst out of you as his fingers pressed into your ticklish skin. 

“What’s the hurry, doll? We’ve got all day.” Planting heated kisses along your neck, you felt Frank smile when you mewled in response. “Attagirl, let me make ya feel good, hmm?” 

Whisking you back to the bedroom, Frank helped you forget all about your shitty job. 

Slightly breathless following your morning exercise, you hummed happily as Frank continued to press his lips to the exposed flesh of your body, taking care to show every piece of you as much love as possible. Boxing you in with his massive arms, he molded his beautifully crooked nose against yours, finishing his trail of kisses with a lengthy kiss to your lips. 

“So, what did you have planned for today?” You asked against his lips, threading a hand in his hair. 

“Nothin’ much. I was thinkin’ maybe nice coffee and a trip to that museum you’ve been talkin’ about?” A blush crept over his cheeks. “Sorry, doll, I, uh, I ain’t too good with this…” He gestured between the two of you. 

“Aw, Frankie,” You scolded gently, kissing him tenderly. “You’re plenty good at ‘this’.” You mirrored his gesture and he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, honey. You’re the most romantic partner I’ve ever had. And that plan sounds lovely. Let me clean up and we can go for coffee.” 

As you curled into a seated position, Frank caught your wrist. “Hey! Where do you think you’re goin’?” 

“To wash up!” You giggled, striding back over to the bed where he slotted you between his legs. 

“Nah, you’re gonna sit right here while I draw you a bath. And I’m gonna run to the coffee place across the street and get ya one of those sugary drinks ya like so much. Then we can go out, if ya feel up to it.” His demanding tone made you smirk, his military tendencies tended to come out when he was concerned about you. 

“That sounds perfect, love.” You kissed his cheek, sitting on the bed as he headed to the bathroom. 

The rest of the day passed quickly, leaving you longing for more cozy time with Frank. Though he considered himself lacking in the romance department, he’d provided you nothing but pure love on your day off, indulging your every whim just to see you smile. 

And as you fell asleep at the end of the day, you clung tightly to him, trusting him to get you through whatever life threw your way.

[theaudacitytowrite]

Stay awake! (Sneak peek)

Part 1 is out!

A/N: Here's a little sneak peek of my upcoming Dean Winchester fic.

Since I finally started watching Supernatural, I'd say to expect a Season 1 -esque storyline... aka horror that's not really scary^^

I just wanted to see what you guys think of the beginning so far and if it's too slow-paced. The actual fic will be around 10k and play over the course of a week. So it takes a while to reach the climax of the story.

So... enjoy!

word count: 1.186

Dean’s feet lazily dragged over the ground. He groaned and huffed, sometimes a yawn would leave his throat.

„Come on, big boy. Let’s try it here.” you dragged him behind you while holding his hand so he would actually follow you.

You stepped up to the bed and breakfast, a rustic little single-family house. Dean and you were in desperate need of a place to stay the night. You had just finished a gruelling hunt and were beyond exhausted. But so far you hadn’t had any luck. All the motels in the area were booked.

“We can just sleep in Baby,” Dean muttered groggily.

“So you can whine about your sore back for the next couple of days?” you looked over your shoulder to look at him with a raised brow, “No thanks.”

"I wanna go home! My feet hurt, my back aches already and I'm tired! We've been on our feet the past 3 days!" he whined, pouting like a little overtired child.

“I know, my feet hurt just as bad and I’ve been awake just as long as you, you little baby.” you teased, “And I want to go home, too, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to drive another 5 hours to get home, while you nor I can keep our eyes open.” Dean grumbled but seemed to follow you more willingly now as he heard your reasoning.

When you entered the B&B a foul smell made its way to your nose immediately. It was sweet yet sour at the same time. You were surrounded by weird-looking paintings, figurines, and a collection of creepy dolls. It was quite dusty and weirdly gloomy in the house, and something just didn't feel right.

"Since when are bed and breakfasts worse than motels?" Dean muttered into your ear as he tried to not touch anything while walking through the small, crammed foyer to head to the unoccupied front desk.

"I don't know. We rarely visit bed and breakfasts." you shrugged as you let your gaze wander through the odd room. Dean scrunched his nose and almost pressed himself against you as he followed you like a shadow.

"Something wrong?" you glanced at him with an amused look.

"Nah." he shook his head and took a step back, "Just hurry up and ring the bell, so we can leave again."

“Leave again? You don’t think they have any vacant rooms?” you chuckled, “You’re so pessimistic.”

“I hope they have no free rooms.” Dean huffed.

"We have to tell Sam about this cosy little B&B. He'll love it here!" you snickered as your eyes roamed over the décor.

"He sure would…" Dean pressed his lips together, trying to breathe as little as possible. He bumped into you when you suddenly halted your steps, your gaze fixed on the fireplace in the next room.

"Do you see that doll?" you pointed in the direction of the fireplace. On top of it sat a little wooden doll with a rancid-looking dress. What caught your attention was, besides her size of an actual baby, her fluent movements. The doll seemed to wave in your direction, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"You mean that spawn of hell that creepily waves at us?" Dean dryly asked.

“Mhm… unnerving.” you hummed, completely focused on the doll.

„Good evening!“ the warm voice of an elderly woman suddenly chimed up, making you and Dean jump. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare the two of you.”

“All good.” you chuckled, clutching your heart.

“How can I help the two of you?” the woman smiled endearingly.

“We were wondering if you still have a room available for one night. We tried every motel and hotel, but they’re all booked.”

“Yes, my dear. We still have enough rooms.” the woman quickly looked through her little notebook, “We got two with single beds and another free one with a double.”

“I wonder why…” Dean muttered next to you, earning a swift nudge from your elbow into his ribs.

“We would love to take the one with the double bed.” you smiled sweetly at the woman.

After checking in the old woman led you to your room. To your relief, the room itself was much brighter and less smelly than the foyer. And even the number of dolls was drastically lower and the décor was much more modern.

“Heh… weird.” Dean chuckled as he looked through the room.

“What?” you hummed as you rummaged through your bag.

“Isn’t that the doll that sat on the fireplace downstairs?” Dean inclined his head as he approached the doll that sat on an old commode.

“Maybe she got two?” you shrugged, heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

"Mhm." was Dean's only response as he inspected the doll. It seemed like there were no mechanics at all. Still, her motions were so fluent and lively. Dean carefully picked her up to not break her. He pulled away the crunchy feeling fabric as he searched for the battery pocket but couldn't find one, no matter where he looked.

"Must be some kind of solar thing," he murmured to himself and shrugged. He plucked down the little dress the doll was wearing when an idea popped into his mind, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips.

As you returned from the shower and opened the door, you jumped immediately.

“For fucks sake, Dean!” you growled as the doll sat in front of the bathroom door, smiling sympathetically at you as she waved. Dean meanwhile was giggling while lying on the bed, elated that he had scared you successfully.

“Got you!” he cackled triumphantly, making you roll your eyes at him.

“You're lucky I love you.”

“I know.” he smiled sweetly, before heading for a shower himself, pecking your cheek swiftly as he passed you.

The two of you soon settled down in bed, overripe for a good night’s sleep. Dean was out almost immediately as his head hit the pillow. You on the other hand seemed not so lucky.

You lay wide awake in the bed, not knowing why. All you wanted to do was sleep. Maybe it was the unfamiliar surroundings, maybe it was the rest of the adrenaline from the hunt that still ran through your veins. And it didn’t help that Dean was felling trees right next to you. One day you’d smother him if he wouldn’t get that snore checked out.

You jumped slightly when there was a soft thud echoing through the room. You glanced at the clock that stood on the bedside table. A few minutes past 3a.m. You glanced at Dean who was still fast asleep, completely unbothered by the sound. He really was exhausted.

You sat up in the bed and scanned the room. You chuckled when you realised that your duffle bag had fallen from a chair onto the ground. You lay back down and sigh, trying to give sleep another try. You nuzzled against Dean who quickly encased you in a hug, pulling you against his chest. You hummed contently and finally managed to drift off to sleep.

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