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[aspirebee]

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[laniidae-passerine]

was just overtaken by a desire to see a queer staged performance of much ado featuring masc Beatrice and femme Benedict bi4bi mayhem

[jewelryrich]

Luxury jewelry sets necklaces bracelets and earrings for women

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Who is This? - Bucky x Reader

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky had a wife during the 40s, she was left heartbroken after the telegram arrived (missing, presumed dead). It's surprising when 80 years later, she was working behind a bar in Madripoor of all places!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2

Bucky followed Sam and Zemo into a loud bar, he immediately wanted to turn around and go home, why had Zemo demanded he go back to being the Winter Soldier (even if it was one night)?

The sound of heavy drums and guitars also deafened his hearing, a song he had come to learn was The Wild Boy by a band called Duran Duran. A few bartenders and waitresses were walking around, there was only one who stuck out to him - a dark-haired young woman who reminded him too much of his departed wife.

His heart breaks even more, thinking of the woman he had left behind, his girl. The love of his life. Bucky doesn't think he will ever 'get over' her.

The way the young woman walked, carrying a tray of empty glasses (before being tossed an empty bottle by a patron), was so similar to the way his girl walked in the hole-in-the-wall diner she worked in.

She wasn't quick enough to duck under the bar before they got to the door leading upstairs (which was coincidentally next to the bar), Zemo was talking to the bouncer. "Excuse me, gentlemen," the young woman said, squeezing between the back of Zemo and the front of Bucky. Which is when he got a good look at her face.

There she was.

His girl. His wife.

He couldn't even say anything to her, as he was taken upstairs and away from his girl. He could only hope he would be allowed back in at the end of the night to see her.

Y/N Barnes made her way behind the bar, glancing up at the TV where the Kansas City Chiefs were currently playing the Buffalo Bills at Arrowhead Stadium, then down at her phone which showed the live score of the Dodgers game against the San Francisco Giants.

She had been a long-time Dodgers girl, even after she found out they had moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles.

"Did you see the way he was looking at you?" Yasmine asked, pushing a dry Martini in front of a 26-year-old woman.

Y/N looked up from the glasses she was putting in the dishwasher. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"One of the men who went upstairs. The way he was looking at you," Yasmine fans her hand for dramatic effect. "I would drop my panties for him in a millisecond."

"Like you don't do that every night."

Yasmine rolled her eyes and served the next half-drunk who had come to the bar.

"Don't listen to her," Anastasia told her, rolling her eyes as Yasmine flirted with her current flavour of the week.

"It's not often I do, darling," Y/N replied, fiddling with Anastasia's curls for a second, before spotting a patron. "What can I get for you, darling?"

He hung off the bar, obviously far too drunk to understand what was going on. "Another beer and your phone number," he slurred.

She shook her head, reaching over and grabbing him another beer. As far as the boss of the bar (whoever that was) was concerned unless they were unconscious- why should you stop serving them? Y/N thought it wasn't right, but no matter how often she voiced this - she was shut down.

She set the beer in front of him and then went to the register to add it to his bill (good thing she currently has his credit card behind the bar).

"Oi, sweet cheeks!" He calls, but Y/N doesn't pay attention looking over at Yasmine and Anastasia with a raised eyebrow. "Sweet cheeks! I asked for your number."

Y/N replied by simply raising her hand proudly displaying her engagement and wedding rings to the drunk. It was only a small diamond (given Bucky worked on the docks before he was deployed), and the plain band she inherited from her great-grandmother.

"What's the matter with that 'un?" He hiccups. "He got you costume jewellery or somethin'?"

Y/N shook her head. "I'm going into the back for a moment," she tells Aidan.

Little did the drunk patron know, all those years ago, this was the date she was handed the telegraph - putting in such blunt words. Her James was missing, they presumed him to be dead. It breaks her heart that they never got to have a proper funeral.

"You alright, honey?" Elizabeth (another one of the waitresses) asked, she had been outside on her break. Elizabeth was the only one who knew her true age and about her James.

"It's the day I found out James was missing," Y/N said, before bursting into more tears.

Elizabeth wrapped Y/N up in a hug, everyone oblivious to the fact that Y/N's presumed dead husband was now running through the bar, flocked by Sam and Zemo, and into the alley behind the bar.

When Bucky was sure Zemo, Sam and Sharon were asleep, he slipped out of the safe house and into the night - determined to find out if the woman he saw in the bar was that of his (presumably? should be?) dead wife.

He eventually made his way to the front door of the bar, the bouncers had long since gone home. He could see lights on in the building and just about make out words being spoken thanks to the Super Soldier serum running through his veins.

He grasped the handle and gave it a push, the door hadn't been locked, as it gave beneath the slight push.

He could see three young women sitting on the bar, a man who was counting the money from the register and another man who was dancing.

The young woman sitting closest to the bar, had golden curls hanging around her head. "Mark, you didn't lock the door!"

The man dancing, Mark, looked over at Bucky, eyes widening when he saw the size of Bucky. "I say we just serve him, then lock the door behind him."

As the bartenders and waitress argued amongst themselves, Bucky's eyes never left the woman in the middle. It looked as if she had been crying. "Babydoll?"

The woman stopped giggling, tipping her head back to normal and looked at him, before dropping her glass as tears welled up in her eyes. "James?"

The curly-haired woman gasped, setting her glass down and giving Y/N a push off the bar.

Bucky held his arms out to catch her as her feet landed on the floor. He couldn't stop looking at her big eyes, he'd always loved her big expressive eyes. He always knew how she was feeling by just a look in her eyes.

"James? Is that you?" Her hand came out slowly, and shakily, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing in front of her.

"Hi, babydoll," Bucky smiled, tears starting to fall down his cheeks, a heavy sob held tightly in his chest at the moment in time. As soon as her fingers met his skin, Bucky let out a heavy sigh of relief, reaching over and pulling her into his arms. Y/N's arms dug themselves away from his chest and up around his neck before her hand soon started fiddling with his hair.

The couple stood there for a moment, finally finding their slice of peace. Some came barging into the bar, and the dark-haired woman who had been sitting on the other side of Y/N practically demanded Mark lock the door before the Hounds of Baskerville came in.

Y/N was so happy to finally have her James back in her arms, but there was a whirling sound she couldn't let go. "What's that noise?"

Bucky looked from his wife to his arm and back to his bride. "I'll explain everything to you later, but... I lost my arm, and I now have a prosthetic one," he tells her, letting go of her for a moment so he could take his glove off and show her the black and gold Vibranium one he had made.

"Ok, James. It's a good thing you gave me this," she reached beneath her top and pulled a ring out from beneath, hanging from a chain. "Before you were deployed."

Bucky smiled, cupping her face so he could kiss her. Bucky pulled away chuckling a little. "Babydoll, will you please put my ring back on?"

She reached behind her to unclasp the chain, and slid Bucky's band off, "if it doesn't fit we'll get it resized."

"I don't care what size it is, as long as you put my ring back where it belongs," Bucky almost growled, a piece of him falling back into place with the ring back on his finger.

The next morning - Sam, Zemo and Sharon came into the living room, seeing Bucky sleeping on the sofa (Sam was expecting this, after being told by Steve), however, there was a lump lying next to Bucky they didn't recognise.

Sam slowly makes his way over, gently easing down the thick blanket lying over Bucky and the lump.

Lying there, practically on top of the 'bionic staring machine' was a young woman.

"Did he somehow pick up a girl?" Sam whispered. Sam and Sharon were trying to be quiet - however, Zemo (who didn't care) started clattering around the kitchen, causing Bucky to wake up in a start, which then caused the young woman to look up with tired owl-like eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky nearly demanded, keeping his arms wrapped around his companion.

Sam raised his eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question, Barnes?" Sam looked at the young woman in Bucky's arms. "Who is this?"

Bucky looked down at her, Sam watched as a smile grew on his face. "This is Y/N. Y/N Barnes. My wife."

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 3 | spencer reid.

Spencer wanted this date to go perfectly, he wanted to treat you like a princess and maybe even land a second date... but why is Hotch calling?

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 4

cw: fem!reader, kissing, slight angst, fluffy

a/n: kicking my feet fr

You started getting ready two hours earlier than you normally would.

Sure, you had been on dates before, but you could confidently say you’d never been this excited to go on a date before. You’d been on the odd blind date that your friend from back home set up, but they usually went as well as you’d expect a date with a misogynistic frat boy with mommy issues to go… not great. After Spencer had walked you home, and called to ask you out for dinner, you were utterly giddy. 

You barely got any sleep that night, your mind and heart racing a mile a minute thinking about the kiss you shared outside your apartment building. You spent the most of the afternoon picking out an outfit, staring at your body in the mirror while you turned side on, front on, side on again to make sure your ass looked good (it did).

You asked Spencer to tell you where he was taking you, because you really didn’t want to be underdressed or overdressed. He insisted it was nothing fancy but a man’s idea of fancy and a woman’s idea of fancy are very different things.

You picked something that felt like the best of both worlds, a semi-formal mini dress and dressed down with your favourite knitted cardigan. You spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready, styling your hair, picking jewellery and shoes and doing your makeup. 

You had been excited the whole day but as 6pm got closer and closer, you started to get nervous. It had been a while since you’d gone on a date with someone you felt you really liked and wanted to impress, it was a strange feeling.

Spencer knocked on your door at exactly 6pm. You were in the middle of pulling applying your lipgloss when he knocked. You cursed quietly to yourself, thinking you had way more time than you actually did. You’d hoped he’d be at least a little bit late. He was a genius though, punctuality was kind of his thing. 

You almost tripped over your shoes running to the front door, a cleaning task you would tackle when you got home. You pulled the door open with a smile beaming across your face. Your heart fluttered at the sight of Spencer’s precious face peeking over a bouquet of pink tulips.

“Hi,” he said softly with a tight lipped smile. He held the tulips out toward you, “for you.”

“Spencer…” you pouted at the gesture, taking the tulips from his grasp. “They’re so beautiful.”

“Garcia said flowers would make a good impression,” he lied, he actually read a considerable amount of articles and first date guides all day at work. But Garcia did help him pick the flowers.

“Well, she was right. Tulips are my favourite,” you grinned, turning back into your apartment to find and fill a vase. “Come in, I won’t be a minute, I just need to put my shoes on and grab my purse.”

Spencer awkwardly stepped into your apartment, glancing around at the now fully decorated space, a far cry from what it looked like just 3 weeks ago. You quickly went to put your shoes on and put some money, your lipgloss and perfume in your purse. You closed the door to your bedroom and paused, staring at Spencer as he squatted down and rubbed Tofu’s belly.

“Made a new friend?” You asked.

Spencer smiled with utter delight, “She’s so fluffy.”

You giggled at Spencer’s response, grabbing the keys for your apartment off the kitchen counter. Spencer dusted the cat fur off his pants before spinning on his heel to face you, “ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. You stepped closer until you were just in front of him, you reached up and adjusted his tie gently. “You look very handsome.”

His cheeks felt hot, “T-thank you… You-! You look really nice too- beautiful! You look beautiful…” he stammered, exaggeratedly gesturing at your appearance.

You giggled softly, “thank you, Spence… Shall we?”

“Yes, yes, right,” he replied, quickly scurrying to the door to open it for you.

The two of you made your way down to his car and he made a point to run ahead of you when you left your apartment building to open his passenger door for you. He was intensely determined to be a gentleman, wanting to give you a good impression so maybe you’d go on another date with him, maybe even come to Rossi’s dinner party next week. But he was getting ahead of himself, he should probably focus on the road.

“...So where are you taking me?” You asked, glancing out the car window at the city speeding by. 

“It’s one of my favourite places,” he replied, hands nervously gripping the wheel. “I… hope you like it.”

“I’m just happy to spend time with you, Spencer… We could sit on the pavement outside a seven eleven and I’d be thrilled,” you grinned, folding your hands in your lap as you watched him glance at you. You watched him for a moment, chuckling to yourself whenever he would glance down at your lap then clear his throat.

Spencer was really trying to keep his eyes on the road, but your plush thighs in the corner of his eye were proving to be very distracting. He had never had a pretty girl in his passenger seat before, especially not a girl he was taking on a date. 

Spencer drove for maybe 30 minutes before he pulled into a parking lot. Once he parked, he quickly got out of the car and did a little run around the front to open your door for you, reaching to help you out of his car.

Spencer held his elbow out for you and you linked arms, your hand gently holding his upper arm. There was a long line up outside the restaurant, people talking and laughing, clearly it was a popular spot. Spencer was stiff with nervousness, his hands clammy as you leaned your temple against his shoulder.

“You okay?” You questioned gently.

He nodded quickly, “Yeah, just… I’ve never been on a proper date before.”

You pouted, “well don’t be nervous. I’m only here for you, Spence. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

Spencer’s phone suddenly rang in his jacket pocket. You quickly let go of his arm as he pulled it out of his pocket, staring at Hotch’s caller ID. He hesitated for a moment, knowing it was work and he would likely have to leave. Spencer looked at you with such sadness and disappointment in his eyes.

“Work?” You asked softly.

“Yeah… But I-”

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you smiled sadly. “Your job’s important.”

Spencer sighed before stepping away from the line and answering the call. You couldn’t hear what he was saying but he sounded upset given his gestures and frantic running of his hand through his hair. After a minute he hung up, slipping his phone in his pocket. He looked at you sadly, opening his mouth to say something but you cut him off.

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you held his face softly. “You go, I’ll get a cab, okay? And when you get back you can tell me all about how you kicked ass, okay?”

Spencer breathed out a laugh and nodded timidly, “Okay.”

“Go,” you said, letting go of his face as he quickly darted away to his car. He was almost out of sight when you watched him turn back, running back to you. He quickly planted a kiss on your lips, breathing hard against you. You smiled against his lips and held his cheek in your hand. He pulled away just as fast, your lipgloss smeared along his lips. You wiped it off with your thumb, “okay, now go.”

“I’ll call you,” he breathed, kissing your cheek quickly before running off.

It killed him leaving you there. Spencer wasn’t someone who got angry that easily but he was in a bad mood about this. He charged through the bullpen that night like a bulldozer, ready to set fire to anyone who dared ask him ‘how he was’. Morgan, JJ and Emily sensed the crankiness the moment Spencer pulled his chair out and sat down with a thud, crossing his arms angrily. 

“Rough night, lover boy?” Morgan asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Wasn’t much of a night at all, really,” Spencer retorted with an attitude.

“Woah, woah, what happened?” Emily questioned, eyes narrowing at Spencer.

“I had a date, okay? That girl you met last night? Y/N? I was taking her to my favourite restaurant and then Hotch called and I-” Spencer had to stop himself before he blew up. His lips formed a tight line as he stared at the table, not daring to look up.

“Aw, Spence…” JJ sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t help,” Spencer mumbled. He spent the rest of their meeting in a foul mood, barely listening to JJ as she listed the details of their next case. They were never usually called in on their days off but after almost twenty bodies, the BAU had a lot cut out for them.

“We’ll leave in two hours,” Hotch dismissed. Spencer was first up, grabbing the small stack of files and pushing toward the door to go to his desk. Morgan and Emily looked at each other, sharing a look of disbelief over Spencer’s crankiness. 

Spencer sat at his desk pushing his pen around, barely touching the cup of sugar with a splash of coffee that JJ got for him. All he could think about was how you probably wouldn’t talk to him again after this, he knew this job came with sacrifices, but he just wanted one thing, one thing, to himself.

“You okay, Reid?” Penelope asked softly. 

Spencer glanced up at her, letting out a sigh, “I was on a date with Y/N before this… We didn’t even get to sit down.”

Penelope’s shoulders slumped at his words, “I’m sure you’ll be able to make it up to her,” she said hopefully. 

Spencer nodded slowly, “I hope so.”

Penelope stepped away to answer a phone call and Spencer was left feeling sorry for himself at his desk for the next 30 minutes, going through his mind the different things he could say or do to make it up to you. Maybe he should call you? Text you? Drop by when he gets back? Or maybe he could buy you another cat as a peace offering-

“Is this seat taken?”

Spencer’s head shot up from his desk, coming face to face with you, your hand resting on the empty chair by his desk.

“Y/N? What are you-”

“I called Penelope,” you answered, “She told me you weren’t leaving for another hour so… I thought I’d bring dinner?”

You held out a plastic bag of take away food from the restaurant he took you to. You asked Penelope what his favourite thing on the menu was and bought some extra for yourself. Spencer looked like a kicked puppy as he stared up at you in disbelief.

He stood up and quickly hugged you, making you chuckle at the sudden affection. You felt your face heat up at all the eyes suddenly on you and Spencer. Morgan whooped from his desk, cheering loudly and obnoxiously, prompting Spencer to pull away from you.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer whispered.

“You don’t have to apologise, Spence,” you replied. “You love your job and it’s important,” you shrugged, placing the plastic bag on his desk.

“God, you’re so sweet it’s killing me,” Emily grumbled, walking by with a fresh cup of coffee. She pointed at Spencer, brows raised, “keep her.”

You and Spencer shared a laugh before he pulled a chair over closer to his for you. You sat down and pulled your takeaway dinner from the plastic bag, letting Spencer tell you all about the restaurant and why this specific meal was his absolute favourite. His knees brushed against yours under his desk and he just revelled in the comfort of your company.

“So, what’s your new case?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“Uh, well,” he trailed off.

“You can’t tell me, huh?” You chuckled.

“Not really, sorry,” he replied. “I’m sure it’ll be on the news tomorrow.”

“Right, well. I’m sure deep down I don’t really wanna know,” you shrugged.

He nodded, “the cases we work aren’t exactly pleasant.” Spencer sighed, “I wish we could have actually had a date.”

“This is a date,” you replied. “Is it not?”

“Well… I mean, it’s just not what I wanted for our first date.”

“Like I said Spence, you could take me to a seven eleven and I’d have a blast,” you chuckled, reaching over to run a thumb across his cheek. “You can make it up to be on our second date.”

Spencer quickly looked at you, “Second date?”

“Yeah… only if you want to?”

“Yes, yeah. I want to,” he replied almost too fast. You smiled sweetly at him, a piece of your hair falling from behind your ear. Oh yeah, he’s done for.

a/n: had you in the first half, didn't i... dare i say you've pierced his heart, HAHAHAH

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r

[januaryembrs]

YOU CAN HEAR IT IN THE SILENCE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [9]

description: the TWO big steps you take together.

word count: 13.5k

trigger warnings: entire mr scratch episode including drugging and suic!de, gore, violence, blood, mention of Diana's schizophrenia, mention of hotch's upbringing

author's note: lets do this again UGH. also set throughout season 10 so even though it seems like a jump its been a whole year bcus I can't write about every day my babies spend together.

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

‘Cause you can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out,

You’re in love. True love,’

The one where you meet his mom. [you have the parenthood talk]

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her thumbnail instinctively picking at the side of her forefinger as her eyes trailed over the dress in the mirror. 

It was a little too chesty, were the sleeves too short? Would his mom not like that it was backless? Backless meant suggestive to some people. Would she hate her piercings? She could take out a couple of her earrings just for one day, cover the hole where her nose ring slipped in with foundation easily. 

Smile, she needed to remember to smile, not that god awful resting bitch face that Elizabeth used to say looked like she’d sucked a lemon between her cheeks. Smile. No, not like that, that looks fake and awkward. 

Was her make up too much? She would hate for Spencer’s mom to think she looked like a hooker. A cheap one at that. 

She felt his hands on her shoulders before the throes of her vicious mind could nab her once more, and her eyes trailed behind her in the reflective, if not slightly fingerprinted, mirror. 

“You’re thinking loud,” Spencer said as if it was a fact, though that tended to be the way with him, since he knew damn near everything there was to know. Especially about her. “Why are you so worried, it’s my mom. Besides, what’s not to like about you?” 

She huffed, shaking her head even though she really tried her best to give him a smile, instead turning to look down at her hands with wincing, cynical twinge of her lips. 

“Maybe my tattoos or my make up or my slutty dress or my piercings that make me look like I just raided Penelope’s collection of ‘goth chic jewellery’, her words not mine,” She said pessimistically. She didn’t want to dampen the mood, honestly she was looking forward to the woman who graced the world with Spencer Reid (she wondered if a handshake or a hug would be appropriate, she would ask Spence in the car she decided,) “People don’t tend to see me the way you do, honey, I can be blunt and rude and snappy and cold. And it’s your mom, she’s like the most important person in the world to you.”

“She’s joint first, actually” Spencer corrected, trying to lift her spirits even a little. He knew none of the things she was saying were necessarily true. He suspected that voice that had overcome her was not her own at all, more likely her own mother nagging into to her for years to sit up straighter, smile more, make an effort to network and socialise, or any other piece of shit observation about how she acted for Elizabeth to badger her about. 

But then she smiled at him, her eyebrows drawn together a little like she guessed he was lying or perhaps sugarcoating things. 

“You’re allowed to have her first, you know,” Bugsy reassured him, her eyes melty and soft as she looked at him and he nodded, wrapping his arms around her stomach, almost like he was trying to suck the negativity out of her whole body through diffusion of their skin alone. “She’s your mom,” 

“I know,” Spencer said simply, their eyes never breaking the gaze at one another, and Bugsy felt herself warm inside when she saw just how besotted his forest hues were, “Please stop worrying, she’s going to love you,”

“You can’t know that for sure,” She pushed back, because when had she ever allowed herself to enjoy a good thing when she had it. She knew she was being somewhat of a Negative Nancy, and she didn’t mean to be, truly. But Diana Reid was possibly the most significant person in Spencer’s life, despite what he said. And Bugsy was… Bugsy. All teeth and chaos and bite and vicious tongue when she didn’t mean to be. 

If Diana didn’t like her, she wasn’t quite sure she’d be able to look at Spencer again without blurting out the million ways she’d try to make it up to him.

“Oh, I do know for sure actually,” He said, spinning her around so he could see her first hand, not in a reflection or a mirror image, and she smiled despite herself, pressing into his lean body and taking a big whiff of his freshly washed clothes. It was the same detergent she used, the same one he’d always used, and yet it was so Spencer it made her skin crawl with what she thought felt like warm goosebumps.

“Oh yeah?” He nodded proudly, and she progressed to a grin, her chin leaning against his chest as she spoke, and he stroked her neatly braided hair away from her face to see her better, like he’d won the second he saw her smile properly, “How do you figure that one out, wonder boy?”

“I’ve mentioned you in almost every single letter I’ve written to her for three whole years. When she saw the photo of you I sent her, she asked if I’d cut you out of a vogue magazine,” Spencer said and she burst out laughing. He couldn’t say he blamed his mom, the photo he’d sent had been one of Bugsy’s best, but then he’d be willing to argue all of them were just as newsworthy as the last. And nothing compared to the real thing. “You make me happy, happier than I ever thought I was allowed to be. Believe me, I know she’ll love you, because I love you,” 

Bugsy smushed her face into his sweater to hide her modesty, and she pressed a small, barely there kiss to where her lips met even if he wouldn’t feel it. 

“Does my hair look okay?” She checked again, her voice muffled by his thick knitted clothes, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, stroking a gentle hand down her spine. 

“You look beautiful,” He said softly, pulling her away from his body and holding onto her right hand, “Give me a spin,”

He lifted her hand above her head, despite the fact she seemed reluctant and embarrassed, “Spence,”

“We’re not leaving until you give me a spin,” He teased, and his smile was infectious as she twirled around beneath his grasp, the long, floral, sundress fanning out around her knees, “And back again!”

“Spencer-” She said with a chuckle, but he seemed to ignore her, or judging by his smile that spread across his whole face he didn’t care.

“Sorry, it’s just the rules,” He said, though she was almost certain there wasn’t ever such a thing as a rulebook on how to make your girlfriend less of a whiny bitch.

He spun her back around, and by the time she whirled around to face him a second him, his arm dropped down to secure around her waist, yanking her towards him to press a scorching hot kiss to her lips. 

She kissed him back, her tongue trailing against his lip and Spencer’s obscenely large hand released her waist, trailing up her sides to cup her cheeks. Spencer kissed her like she was sucking air right out his lungs, like he was receiving life saving medicine, like he was being graced by an angel, a non-believer, a man of science reaching out to the white gates of heaven as if they were about to disappear under his touch. 

They parted with a small smack that reverberated in the bathroom, and Bugsy looked at him as if he’d infected her with a drug, because truthfully that was how his touch, his kiss, made her feel. 

They settled in his car, a few soft and loving affections later, because she really did look beautiful and he could apologise for smudging her lipstick another time, and Spencer it was the first time in a long time that Spencer felt like his future was laid out in front of him. 

–

She fretted some more in the lobby, the woman behind the desk at the sanitarium lighting up at the sight of Spencer walking towards her with a smile. 

“Dr. Reid,” She enthused, noting the woman next to him that squoze a book to her chest tightly like she wasn't sure what her fingers might do if they were let loose, “She’s been so excited to see you, her doctors said she’s responding well to the new medication,” 

“I heard, I’m glad to hear she’s feeling calmer,” He said, his eyes trailing past the brunette who tapped away at her keyboard idly, “Where is she?”

“She’s just in the sunroom. She’s been learning how to crochet, just like you said,” The receptionist smiled kindly at Bugsy, who looked all but terrified, though she hid it well through tight lips. 

Spencer nodded, reaching up to put a hand between Bugsy’s shoulder’s to lead her through the lounge area where a few other residents watched a black and white movie. 

“Are you sure my make up looks okay, my mascara hasn’t ran has it?” She whispered, because a few other people, some even her age, were sitting in comfy armchairs flicking through books. 

Spencer smiled at her, because she was so cute when she was nervous, usually it was the other way around, “You look lovely, you always look lovely,”

“I believe that’s what’s called voter bias, Dr Reid,” She said, because jokes and wit always seemed to release the pressure on her head when she was stressed. 

He chuckled, opening the door to a large room filled on all sides with windows, and the cosy heat hit her in the face, “Not if what I’ve said is a verifiable fact.” 

“Who’s your secondary source, Dr?” She said, because they seemed to fall into a nerdy sort of teasing when they were like this. Facts and figures were predictable, getting your boyfriend’s mother to like you based entirely on your personality was not. 

“My mom,” Spencer said, and her head whipped to his, ready to protest when he led her to the corner of the sunroom, where a woman sat with her ocean blue eyes screwed up in concentration where two blush pink hooks were crossing and bobbing between a cream thread of yarn, “Mom,”

Her eyes flew up from where she sat, immersed in the delicate movements. Spencer had said a few weeks ago her hands were becoming stiff on her new tablets, that the side effects were making her circulation poor and so Bugsy had been out to help him pick up a crochet kit from Walmart the very same day.

“Mom, this is Bugsy,” He said, and it was his turn to be almost shy as he gestured to the young woman. “The girl I was telling you about,”

Diana stopped for a moment, as if assessing the new face, the way her hair fell around her ears, and Bugsy clutched the hardback tighter to her chest, thinking that maybe she should have gone for something a little fancier than the small piece of twin that wrapped around the present. First time meeting his mom and this was the best you could do, really Bugsy? Where’s the flowers or even another ball of yarn to keep her occupied? 

Bugsy swore her breath caught, her brows furrowing together worriedly as she went to hold a shaky hand out to Diana, but then second guessed herself when she wondered if the loathing of spreading germs was shared between Spencer and his mom. She’d forgotten to check when they were in the car- stupid- stupid girl.

“H-hello, Mrs Reid,” She said quietly, shakily, holding out the book to the woman. Diana Reid looked good for her age, considering Spencer had told her on numerous occasions that she struggled to pretty herself up the way she used to before her Schizophrenia had spiralled. But her hair was a warm blonde with only small traces of grey in it, short around her neck likely for practicality, and despite the fact her face seemed somewhat grumpy, though Bugsy would describe her as lost more than anything, she lit up like a damn firework on the fourth of July the second she saw her son. 

“Spencer!” She exclaimed, holding a hand out for her son to take, which he did so without hesitation. Bugsy thought she might be going in for a hug, maybe that she’d missed the hint that Bugsy was trying to greet her, which the young girl didn’t mind one bit. She was well aware she was stepping on their time together, “Help me out of this chair, I left my glasses in my room, I want to see her,” 

Bugsy felt heat rush to her cheeks as Diana all but threw her crochet set to the little table beside what seemed to be a lukewarm mug of coffee, and Spencer helped her out of the recliner, Bugsy holding out another hand in case she needed it. She was tall once she stood to full height, taller than Bugsy would have thought she would be, and hands were on her shoulders the second Diana had released her son. 

“Oh, look at you!” Diana exclaimed, and Bugsy tried not to falter with embarrassment under her words. But his mother’s hands were soft, if not rough on the tips where she had spent her life flicking through pages on pages of literature, “I’ve always told Spence he was a looker but, my god, you’re a catch even for him,” 

“Mom,” He said indignantly, but Bugsy chuckled through flaming cheeks. Diana waved him off in favour of smiling at the girl, and the second she met eyes with the woman who had raised Spencer Reid she saw where he got his good heart from. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Reid,” She stumbled over her words, trying for a second time to give her the book, and Diana looked almost aghast that she had brought her a present, “Spencer said you’d finished all your books they let you keep here so I bought you one of my favourites-”

“How could I resist The Great Gatsby,” Diana said, running a polished thumb over the gold printed writing, a small smile playing at her lips, “I’ve been meaning to brush up on Fitzgerald,”

Spencer smiled at his mother, who seemed more full of life than she had in weeks, before she waved her hand in front of the two of them, and Bugsy wondered if she had done something wrong. 

“And none of this Mrs Reid crap. You're not the IRS, Diana is just fine, honey,” She said, and Bugsy grinned, nodding in agreement with the older woman. “Mom is even better if you’re feeling brave,” 

“O-okay, absolutely,” She said, smiling even wider when Spencer seemed almost aghast his mother was being so brazen. Though he needn’t be so prudent, Bugsy was certain she loved her already. 

“And how is my big strong FBI agent?” Diana turned to her son finally and he shook his head, his eyes full of boyish affection for the women. 

“There’s dozens of words I think would perfectly describe me yet ‘big and strong’ fall nowhere in that category, mom,” He said, smiling widely at his mother who rolled her eyes and nudged him with her shoulder. She seemed more like herself than she had in years, her eyes were clearer, her nerves weren’t shot like usual. She seemed like the mother from his best memories. 

“Alright, how does ‘contumelious’ work out for you?” She cracked back, and he laughed, shaking his head and he caught the pure warm grin radiating from Bugsy’s direction at the two of them. 

And Bugsy saw in the kind, devoted eyes that hid behind Diana’s fluffy white, blonde hair where Spencer got his gentle soul; as if no amount of medication or illness would ever make his mother let up on the tenderness she held for him. She felt it in the air alone, the way they fell into sync only blood could ever achieve, and for a flash of a thought, Bugsy wondered if Spencer would be so doting on their children. 

And for the first time all day she didn’t need to second guess herself. She already knew the answer. 

–

“And this was Spencer in the mathletes,” Bugsy’s hand flew to her mouth to suppress the ‘aww’ threatening to tumble from her lips, because she knew from the way his cheeks had turned a bright rouge that he was embarrassed and she hated to make him feel like she was finding humour in his shame. 

It was easy to see which one was him from the offset. Three college boys who had probably spent the best part of their first years begging sorority girls to fuck them and eating funny brownies stood at the back, atleast in their late teens judging by their late-adolescene acne and braces. Yet there, standing in front of them dressed in a tweed sweater vest and pressed brown trousers as if he was a small grandpa, was a scrawny pole of a boy, peeking out from behind a sweeping fringe in need of a trim and a pair of  bubble-like glasses. 

He was smiling wide, holding some sort of trophy in between his slender, little fingers, and Bugsy could bet her entire savings that he had answered almost all of his team’s questions. 

“Spence,” She murmured, taking the photo gently between her fingertips where she sat in between her partner and his mother at the foot of Diana’s bed, “You were so cute,” 

“You can just say dorky,” He corrected, fighting the urge to cover his cheeks with his hands, because he could feel the way they gave away his self-consciousness. 

But she shook her head, leaning into him with adoring eyes as she stared at the photo, “No, I mean cute. Look at your little hair, you were so tiny- aw!” 

He laughed awkwardly, not missing the way she put a hand on his leg in reassurance, and Diana handed her another photo of a toddler with thick dark hair, those hazel eyes she loved, huge and round on the baby's smiling face. Bugsy melted when she saw the milk teeth gleaming in the midst of his laugh, yet she burst into sheepish giggles when she realised baby Spencer had no clothes on. 

Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the thing dangling between his legs as the picture captured him crawling towards where Diana had the camera. “Mom!” 

Diana rolled her eyes, producing another one of Spencer watering the flowers with the garden hose, barely one year old in a bucket hat and, yet again, nothing else. “Oh, Spencer, don’t give me that, look how cute those little butt cheeks were,” 

Bugsy slapped a hand over her mouth, her brows pulling together at the endearingly innocent photos, and she met Spencer’s gaze again, the urge to squish his cheeks in between her fingers suddenly itching her hands. Though, judging by the embarrassment in his expression, he wouldn’t like it very much even if she did mean the best of intentions.  

“You were so adorable,” She confessed, looking back down at the two tiny, round butt cheeks that made something well in her chest because it was Spencer, so small and vulnerable and helpless. She turned to Diana, her eyes wide with love, “How did you not want just millions of them?” 

The woman laughed, leaning against Bugsy and palming off another photo, this time of Spencer in swimming trunks at the beach, likely around two or three, a line of white sun cream running down his nose and cheeks as he looked to be grumbling about the sand on his legs. 

“Because I knew none of them could ever be as special as my Spencer, and then that just wouldn’t be fair on them.” She said simply, and Bugsy smiled at the woman, truly smiled, because despite everything her illness set against her, she loved her son more than anything in the world. “You don’t win the lottery and then pawn in your rings for a couple bucks, now do you?” 

Bugsy chuckled, shaking her head. Elizabeth had never been so doting on her. She knew she shouldn’t think about her, shouldn’t compare the two of them because they weren’t similar even in the slightest. Diana was a single mother of a deadbeat husband who left, she battled a disease day in-day out that threatened to eat away at her brain, her memories of her son who thought the world of her, and she was still a better mother than hers had ever been. 

Part of her felt that bitter sting that never really left her since she was thirteen, since she saw the maid at breakfast time more often than she ever saw her mother, the kid that got picked up and dropped off in another country like she was furniture, a barbie doll for her mother to primp and clean and boast about her big brain to her colleagues without ever showing a semblance of affection for the girl reading material eight years above her grade level. 

Diana was living proof that no matter what, it’s not a challenge to love your children the way Elizabeth had always made it out to be, that she was difficult to love even for her own mother. 

Bugsy bit the emotion back, knowing it was just the baby photos ramping up her hormones, and felt herself fall perhaps even more in love with Spencer Reid when she saw the photo of him at Christmas dressed as a Jedi. 

–

She was quiet on the way home, her stomach warm with fondness, her hand warm with his palm as they held hands on top of the gearstick. 

She watched the last of the sun peek through the trees in a cantaloupe orange and candy-floss pink swirl, and she let herself close her eyes under the day’s worth of laughter. 

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer said after a moment, giving her hand a small squeeze when she didn’t answer right away, and he wondered if she may have even fallen asleep, feeling immediately guilty for waking her. 

She looked at him with an uneasy smile on her face, and his brain threw up a million different reasons for it, almost all of them making him worry.

“I know my mom is a lot,” He said, his tone jittery and she started shaking her head immediately, forgetting he couldn’t see where he was looking at the road, “I know she’s-”

“She’s wonderful, Spencer. God, no, it’s not that. I loved her,” Bugsy cut him off, and his shoulder’s immediately sagged in relief. She moved her hand to tuck a single lock of hair behind his ear, and he nudged into her touch on instinct. 

“Then what’s wrong?” He asked, his brows pulled together in worry as they came to a red stop light, and he put the Beetle into neutral. He looked over at her then, and he saw the way the grin had slipped off her face, leaving her with something oddly unreadable, though if he had to put a name to it, he would say doubtful, and she swallowed thickly. 

“Do you ever worry…” She paused herself, because she already could see their picture perfect day spiralling down the drain like yesterday’s woes, “It’s nothing, just forget I said anything,”

“No, tell me,” Spencer insisted, and the road around them seemed to hold its breath waiting for her reply. He’d taken a nice route home, claiming he wanted to skip the eight pm traffic, whatever that was, had cut through one of those neighbourhoods they show on holiday brochures or estate agents' windows. The kind people with kids and volvo’s and yoga mom groups lived in.  

Her eyes snapped out the front window when four young boys zipped past them on their bikes, their knees muddy from where they’d probably spent the day playing soccer, their clothes just as messy and torn, likely waiting to be scolded by their mothers for their recklessness. And pulling up the rear was a kid smaller than the others, jogging after them, wanting to cross the road before the light turned green, his glasses slipping down his nose with every step, and some weird, small part in Bugsy’s gut wanted to throw her arms around him and walk him home to make sure he got there safely. 

Spencer’s hand was on her thigh, pulling her out of her thoughts for a second time, and she blinked a little too harshly, wishing she could just enjoy a lovely day for what it was rather than putting such a downer on things. 

“I haven’t spoken to my mom since Emily’s funeral,” She said, swallowing heavily, and understanding passed over his face then. He knew he would never have with Elizabeth what they had just had with his mother. Even if she retired tomorrow and wasn’t jetting off to another country every week, Elizabeth Prentiss was a cold, shrewd woman who could make someone, mainly her daughters, feel empty just by being in the same room. 

Her damning grey eyes, her tight lips that never smiled, her harsh brow. 

“I don’t think she even kept any of my baby photos, none that don’t have her in them at least,” She confessed, and the lights flashed to amber, then green, and he was forced to let go of her for just a moment as he pulled off again, “I don’t… I don’t think she ever liked me.”

He had no idea what to say that would make it better. Usually he was so good at wriggling her problems out from the core, proving all her worst fears were wrong with simple logic. Yet he was at an end. Because Elizabeth had never shown any sign of loving her daughters, truly loving them beyond trophies. 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” He tried, pulling over to stop at the curb because he hated speaking to her when he was distracted. “Some people just have a funny way of showing these things,” 

But she shook her head, turning her eyes to her lap, “Your mom is… Amazing. And I feel like a total asshole for complaining about mine when yours is sick most of the time. And I know things weren’t great- I mean you were just a kid, you should have never had to look after her, it’s supposed to be the other way around, you know? But you’ll know she’s always loved you, like truly, truly loved you. I mean, you’re her whole world,” She rushed, like the thoughts had been bouncing around her head all day, waiting to burst out at the seams, which they had. 

Spencer took the keys out of the ignition, shuffling in his seat to face her, and he only realised then she was watching where the four boys had taken off down the street on their bikes, the smallest one trailing at the back like a lost puppy. 

“Don’t you ever worry sometimes I’ll be..” She started, and he knew where it was going before she forced herself to finish. Taking her hand in his, weaving his fingers between hers and squeezing them tight. 

“Like your mom?” He said for her because the words were lingering in the air like alphabet soup. She nodded silently, grateful that he always seemed to know how her brain was ticking over. She reminded herself to make it up to him later, “Never,”  

“But-” She started, and he grabbed her chin then, forcing her to look at him. He smiled dopily, because usually it was him who needed to be told how other people felt, and she swore his eyes had never looked so sweet. 

“Never,” He repeated, feeling the smile spreading under his fingertips as it took the second turn for her to hear it, “If anything, I worry more about becoming like my dad,”

Her brows furrowed, and she shook her head again. Sometimes Spencer wondered if she knew she was so expressive. It was one of his favourite parts about her.

“Never,” She echoed back to him, and they shared a sombre smile, squeezing each others hand just that bit tighter, “I tell you what, the second either one of us starts becoming our parents, we have the right to call them a jackass,”

He laughed, nodding his head and leaning over the centre console to press his forehead to hers, “Alright, deal. Although I think I hear Freud rolling in his grave at that statement.” 

She kissed him, hard, because she would never be able to tell him exactly how he made her feel with words alone. Over two hundred thousand words in the English Language, at least five other languages she could speak fluently, and yet not one of them knew how to describe this feeling. Like she had been absorbed so completely, effortlessly, by Spencer Reid. That she was disease ridden, riddled with Reid. 

And the thought made her giggle into the kiss, because she would have to tell him some other time. Her hand ran through his hair, pulling him closer, and his hand skirted down to her waist to tease underneath her shirt. 

They pulled away after a moment, staring with the same dazed look in their eyes. 

“We have three more days in Vegas,” She started, fixing his collar and hair with idle fingers and pressing an absent peck to his lips, “Do you think we could go back one more time? To see your mom? If that’s okay with her, of course,” 

And he smiled widely at her, nodding and pulling her in for another long kiss. They had a dinner reservation in a half hour, but he didn’t mind being five minutes late for once in his life, not if it meant he was with her. 

The one with Scratch. [he buys a ring]

He’d walked past the jewellers three times that week on his way back from the coffee shop. Bugsy had a fair bit of paperwork to catch up on, despite him offering to halve her load with her because Hotch had already warned them once about the complaints he got from the other agents that she was using Reid’s memory as an unfair advantage, although he would argue that her brain was just as capable as his. 

So, he’d been sent on a coffee run alone. He wasn’t complaining, it was just down the road, barely even a five minute walk, and it meant he got to look at the range of neatly cut diamonds in peace.

He wasn’t looking to buy it soon, at least that was what he’d told himself the first time he’d seen the pretty one in the corner. He was just having a browse, perhaps just looking at the watches they had on display and his eye had happened to fall to the women’s section below. The second time he’d stopped for a look, it was just to see if anyone had bought that one he’d seen the first time, and when he realised they hadn’t, his heart gave a somewhat relieved sigh that he decided he would confront later. 

By the third time, the shop keeper stuck his head out the door, making Spencer jump. 

“Either you’re buying or you’re fogging up my window, kid,” The old man’s voice was gruff, but he had kind eyes, that of a romantic, and Spencer supposed you didn’t sell a dozen engagement rings a day and not feel hopeful. 

“J-just looking,” He stammered, taking a step away from the rings and double checking he hadn’t gotten any smudges on the glass, “Not to buy right now, just for future reference,”

“No one comes back that many times for future reference, son,” He said with a chuckle and Spencer hated the part of him that said that he was right, “Why not for right now?”

Spencer huffed quietly, wondering if her coffee would be cold by the time he got back at the rate he was going, “It’s still a little early. I don’t want to freak her out,”

She had been his girlfriend for one year, seven months and two weeks (and four days but who was counting). It had been her thirtieth birthday just a couple months ago, as far as he was concerned Bugsy had never dropped any hints about wanting to marry any time soon like he knew other women did at this time in their life. 

He was happy where they were, in their apartment, in their semi-public relationship, with their boys that were starting to look a little grey and rickety on their paws. Spencer didn’t want anything to ruin that, even if that one ring did seem to call out to him like a siren song. 

The jeweller grinned slyly, like he knew something Spencer didn’t, but he nodded at the kid nevertheless, “Well, that little number in the corner you’ve had your eye on has had two offers already, incase that sways your hand at all,” 

And Spencer felt the jolt of injustice in his head at the idea of someone else taking that ring, one that he couldn’t get out of his head the entire way back to the office, one that only went away when he saw her smiling up at him. 

One that only dissolved when he imagined how she would look wearing it. 

–

“Tell Penelope I said hi,” Director Axelrod murmured, turning on his heel and heading back to his car as Hotch flashed a look down at the paper, the name ‘Peter Lewis’ scribbled out on the line and he passed the paper to Bugsy where she peered around his shoulder. 

“Get this to Garcia, Lewis has his final victim already,” He said and she nodded, the two of them heading back to the car. Bugsy pulled her cell out her pocket, immediately calling their tech whizz where the rest of the team were at the office an hour away. 

“Peter Lewis, born and raised in Jacksonville, Florida. To call him a Math genius would be an understatement,” Garcia reported, her press on nails clicking against the keyboard as she worked in the candlelight since Lewis had hacked into their electric systems. 

“Where was he in the foster system?” Hotch asked, Bugsy holding the phone up over the centre console so they could both speak to their team.

“He was… ugh this WiFi hotspot is the worst,” They waited, Hotch heading for the freeway, “He was not in the foster system. He had two very biological parents and they ran the foster home until it- oh dear,”

“Looks like we found Mr Scratch,” Rossi sighed, and Bugsy’s brows furrowed, waiting for a response. 

“So one of the boys in the house said Peter’s dad would dress up as the devil then the other kids would follow suit, this has to be where all the victims stayed before they were adopted and their names were changed,” JJ chimed in. 

“Did Lewis’s father serve any time?” Bugsy piped up, chewing the inside of her cheek because the whole case had given her the heebie jeebies. Grown ups reporting sights of shadow monsters and waking up with dead loved ones. She thought by now she had heard it all. 

“The case was pending and then he was killed in jail for being a paedophile. Peter’s residency is still listed as Florida,” Garcia said, her mouse whirling around at the speed of light judging by the soft ticks they heard on their end. 

“He broke into FBI files to find someone in witness protection, did any of the kids from the home end up in WITSEC?” Hotch asked, clicking the blinker down to chand lanes and overtake the ford infront of them. 

“That would be… no? No, none of them,” Garcia replied, and the team shared a confused pause. 

“Who the hell is he still hunting?” 

Hotch spoke up, his own mind whirring as to who could possibly be Lewis’ endgame, “Garcia, who ran the investigation in Florida?”

“Hold on, that would be Dr. Susannah Regan, who went into witness protection on a very nice estate in Columbia, Maryland,” Bugsy and Hotch looked at one another, sharing the same thought and the unit chief floored the gas pedal, knowing Regan didn’t have a whole load of time left if Peter had gotten to her already. 

“Send Reid the location, we’re on our way,” Hotch ordered, and Penelope was already ten steps ahead, Rossi and JJ grabbing their vests and heading for the garage. 

Bugsy hung up, checking her gun was still holstered as Hotch launched them the final five minutes to Dr Regan’s home. 

And yet she couldn’t help feel like they were walking into the belly of the beast the victims had been describing. 

–

Garcia hadn’t been kidding when she said it was a nice estate. By the time they’d gotten out the car, the entire street was silent, a quiet only lots of acres and high gates bought you. 

“You stay behind me, we watch each other's six. We get Dr Regan and we get out, are we clear?” Hotch muttered, his eyes darling to the living room window where the curtains had been pulled closed, one single lamp left lit. 

She nodded, the two of them edging towards the door that had already been left open a crack, “Crystal,” 

He took a second to breath, wondering if they should wait for back up, but Savannah didn’t have alot of time, not if the unsub was already inside like he suspected, before he raised his hand up to the knocker and snapped it a couple times, pushing the door open. 

“Dr Regan?” 

“It’s open, come in,” The woman’s voice called, though it sounded too chipper to be authentic, some sort of uncanny valley as if it was an automated response from an answering machine. 

Checking Bugsy was still behind him, he pushed on, his footsteps light and quiet, eyes scanning the large antechamber, the grand piano sat in front of a huge fireplace cold to the touch, the lights all switched off despite the owner being home. 

Maybe Dr Regan was cheaping out on her bills. But Bugsy doubted it. Something in her gut didn’t sit right. 

“Are you alright?” Aaron called, his torso squeezing against his vest as he scanned what he could see from the room, and she held up behind him, flicking a look over her shoulder every once in a while for movement from the other rooms. 

“Agent Hotchner, I got Agent Rossi’s message,” She said, again in that cheery voice, despite her words claiming she understood she was in peril, and the sound of it made Bugsy’s chest seize with suspicion. 

“Doctor, you’re in danger, you need to come with us,” She explained, her eyes squinting to see in the damning lowlight of the home. 

“I understand,” That robot voice spoke, “I’m in the study,” 

They paused for a second, exchanging another look before pressing on because they had no time to lose over silly hesitations. Passing through the entrance into the room lined with bookshelves on bookshelves, expensive tapestry on expensive tapestry, their heads flicked over to a frail older woman that somewhat resembled the woman they’d been sent from Penelope, when she had was freshly turned twenty five with a sparkly new bookdeal under her nose. 

She sighed in gratitude when the entered, and Bugsy held back a moment as Hotch moved in, keeping her finger on the trigger, “I’m so glad you’re here, you need to see this,” Savannah produced a long, glass sharp letter opener that could easily pass for a knife with the eight inch edge of it, “He wants you to see this.”

And with that, without hesitation or caution she jammed the knife through her own windpipe as if puppeteered by a master, and Bugsy leapt forward to try stop the bleeding just as Aaron did. 

Only she never got that far, because no sooner had she stepped forward a hand reached out from the darkness, grabbing her by the scruff of her hair and throwing her to the floor while she had been caught off guard. Pain exploded behind her eyes as her nose met the hardwood floor, and she swore she cracked a tooth or two. Her hand scrambled out for her gun, only to watch a large black boot stomp down on her digits that made her hiss in pain. 

She heard a scuffle up ahead where Peter had managed to grab Hotch equally unaware, and she watched her unit chief tumble to the floor, smacking his head on the table on his way down. 

And it was then that she smelled it. A raw chemically odour that ran up her bloodied nose, went into her mouth when she tried calling out for Hotch, and it made her cough up a thick mucus before it had even slid down her throat. 

She heard shots fired, and it was enough for her to reach out for her own gun again, hoping that Lewis was distracted enough to not pay attention to her, only to realise somewhere in the scuffle he had kicked her weapon across the floor. 

When had he done that? Why hadn’t she seen him? Probably because the pain behind her eyes had damn near wiped her vision into a blur of white. 

It was then the nausea hit her, the vertigo washing over her like she’d stood up too fast, only she wasn’t standing up at all, in fact she was pretty sure she was on her hands and knees trying to crawl towards Hotch. 

Hotch, who lay on the floor with his own eyes rolling like the room was spinning for him too, and she wondered how on earth anyone could have beaten Hotch. He was a rock, immovable, irreplaceable, forever. 

“Hotch-” She garbled out, her voice tragic and weak in a way he’d never heard before. 

And he opened his mouth to speak, only to find his own voice gone when he saw the figure leering over her body, a glint of a knife in his hand, and Aaron wanted to know how he had managed to emerge out of the shadows when he could have sworn Lewis was right next to him. 

The drug, it had to be the drug. God his eyelids were heavy, what had they been in this house for?

But Aaron felt a scream lodge in his mouth, sounding more like a yelp, something that could have been a mix of ‘no’ and raw anger because Peter had brought one of those big black boots behind him and kicked Bugsy so hard in the gut she flew to her side like roadkill, the wind leaving her lungs with a whimper of pain, and her eyes never left Hotch’s gaze as he did so. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m going to need some alone time with Mr Hotchner here,” Lewis said, and before Aaron could plea or beg, he watched the man lean down and drive a swift line across her throat, as if he were simply gutting a pig, and her carotid artery was sliced clean in two, her blood spewing all over Aaron’s shoes, seeping into the floor. 

And Aaron went to scream, felt the tears well in his eyes because he’d failed her, only this time, unlike Hailey, he was forced to watch every second of life trickle from her face as she bled out onto the floor, choking and clawing at the floor for reprieve. 

What would he say to the team, to Spencer? What would he say to Emily?

Aaron let himself sob, shaking his head in denial and squeezing his eyes tightly shut, hoping to god medical would get here soon. It would be too late by then, he already knew it. 

Bugsy was dead. There wasn’t any miracle fix or band aids that were going to fix that. 

And yet in the next moment the sound of her body writhing in desperation against the floor, the sight of which he couldn’t even bring himself to watch, it had gone quiet. 

And Aaron peeled his eyes open, wondering if she had passed, if she was still in pain, if she wanted someone to hold her hand as she went, and he urged his heavy muscles to do something god damnit anything to help her, except his body felt like lead and even opening his eyes was too much for him. 

But there was nothing there. Not the puddle of blood he’d just watched spill over the flooring, not her hand reaching out for him, clawing at her throat for reprieve and certainly not a body of a girl he once loved like a daughter who would stay with him for a lifetime. 

All of it, just… gone. 

“Don’t you worry, Mr Hotchner, I’m saving the girl for later. Can’t have a pretty thing like that go to waste,” Lewis smiled toothily, and Aaron wanted to wrap his hands around the bastard’s throat, wring the life out of him until he was a crumpled mess on the floor, “But for now, it’s you and me, Aaron. And I think you should answer your phone. Your team are on their way for you,”

–

Her scream was piercing, cut through two walls. He could hear it the second they stepped out of the car. He’d all but thrown himself out the vehicle before Anderson had even stopped, probably would have barged right through the front door without even drawing his gun if it hadn’t been for Morgan grabbing him. 

“Reid, Reid, no-” Derek said, even though his voice wavered, his head flicking back at the house, “You can’t just head in there without backup, it could be a trap, man,” 

“She’s in there, can’t you hear her?” Spencer said, his eyes wide with terror as the sound of her screaming kicked up a whole other decibel and Spencer's stomach churned at the thought of what might be the root cause of it, “Please, Morgan, I can’t-” 

He didn’t even realise his eyes had welled up at the sound alone until he couldn’t finish his words, and Derek was staring at him with an equally solemn expression. 

JJ rounded the other SUV, Rossi at her tail, their guns drawn low to their thighs as they gave Derek a nod; ready to enter. 

“Just promise me you’ll keep your head, Reid,” Morgan said with a cautious tone. Realistically, Spencer should have stayed back at the office with Kate. He was too emotionally invested in the case, though no one wanted to be the one to argue that with him, knowing Spencer would only fight back that they would all struggle to keep their cool once they entered the house. 

Because the UnSub had Hotch and Bugsy. He’d taken family. He’d made it personal. 

And then, just as Spencer nodded, unholstering his own gun and making sure his vest was tightened at his waist, perhaps the worst happened. 

A shot fired from inside the house, loud and unmistakable over the deafening cries and Bugsy’s screaming stopped. 

–

Spencer didn’t even remember entering the house, not really, despite his promise to Morgan. He felt like his heart was in his throat, images of Maeve’s brain matter splattered over the warehouse floor flooding his head, because apparently a revolver can cut through two heads at once and still pack a punch.

Spencer was realistic, had sprung into a clinical sort of worry that told him exactly how many times he’d told her he loved her (two thousand, six hundred and seventeen times) and that maybe that wasn’t enough. It told him the amount of kisses they’d shared could have easily been doubled if he dared to steal them more often before bed, if he’d been honest with her years before he had, if he’d just taken five minutes off his showers. 

He had barely survived Maeve dying. If Bugsy was gone… there would be nothing left of him. Nothing important anyway. Just a body, limbs, a heart that would never beat again. He wagered even his blood would stop because the idea of her gone from the world had already made him cold. 

He heard movement in the living room, and judging by the way Derek’s head whipped over to their right, he had too. And before they could raise their guns up to aim, Derek edging forward to kick the door in with pure, simmering rage, a voice sounded out from the other side. 

“In here!”

Hotch. Hotch, who sounded like he was weeping, or at least had a frog in his throat, hummed his words almost. The men drew a breath of relief, Derek reaching forward to open the living room door, his weapon still tight in between his fingers as he pushed. 

“Hotch?” He said, though Spencer’s eyes cast around the room the second he confirmed his unit chief was okay. He had a nasty gash on his head, likely from where he’d fallen, and his pupils were dilated. Drugged. “Hotch, where’s Bugsy?”

“H-he took her-” Aaron slurred, attempting to get to his feet, holding out a hand to the sofa and using the furniture to claw himself up to a stand, “Upstairs I think- I need to get her- Where’s my gun-”

Morgan rushed in to grab Hotch under his arms as Rossi and JJ burst in from the kitchen, Rossi calling out behind them for medical attention. 

“Hotch, you’re not going anywhere, you need to- Reid,” Morgan yelled, but Spencer ignored him. Because he could apologise later. 

Lewis had Bugsy alone, had taken her upstairs, that was what Hotch said. And Spencer couldn’t stand by and wait while they had no idea what was happening to her. He heard JJ’s footsteps pounding behind him, following him up the stairs, and he knew he should be paying more attention for any hint if Lewis was still in the building. But he didn’t. All he could think about was those screams. Raw. Guttural. Like she was being skinned alive. 

His eyes trailed the empty bedrooms, any sign of movement whether it be Lewis or the woman he would trade his own life for in a heart beat if it came down to it. But there was nothing there, not even as JJ swept the other handful of rooms, leaving them with one small storage room at the end of the hallway, and the two of them cast a glance at one another. 

JJ nodded to him, and he reached out a shaky hand, praying on everything in the vast universe he’d spent his entire life learning about that someone heard him begging to keep his Bugsy alive. 

He slid the door open, cocking his gun up to the figure in the corner, his own weapon at his feet as he smiled in a smug manner. 

JJ took stock of their surroundings, waiting for the trap they were walking into to spring, only he held his hands out in surrender. 

Because he had already gotten what he wanted. He had killed Dr Regan, and taken two cops down with him. 

“Where is she?” Spencer spat, handing JJ cuffs as the woman grabbed him harsher than she should do, because the pleased look on his face was infuriating, only made worse by the chuckle that bubbled out of his mouth. 

“She’s in the closet,” He nodded his head to the smallest bedroom, and Spencer’s eyes narrowed, “She sure is a darling, isn’t she? So easy to tame once that smart mouth of hers was gone,” 

Spencer wanted to shoot him between the eyes there and then, put him down like the sick dog he was, but instead he fled after where Lewis had directed him, because he didn’t know if she was injured herself or if it was already too late.

For once in his life, Spencer Reid knew nothing. 

–

And then he saw her. 

She was alive, thank god she was alive, a dent in her nose that suggested he’d thrown her to the ground face first, her knees skinned, her palms scratched. 

But that wasn’t what worried him.

Because no sooner had he opened the door to the closet, reaching forward to yank her hands off her ears, or maybe pull her for a hug, or maybe break down into sobs and tell her how sorry he was he couldn’t have stopped any of it, she’d started screaming again. 

He didn’t think after so many years on the job he’d ever heard something so gut-wrenching. For a moment he thought he might even be sick. Because it was full of pure terror. Not the childish fright you get from a scary movie or a loop de loop on a rollercoaster, but blood curdling fear like he had never heard before. 

It was enough to have Morgan running up the stairs with his gun drawn, only to see Spencer frozen, his hands reaching out to grab her, and it was only then the agent realised Reid was trying to speak to her. 

“Baby, baby it’s okay, it’s me, it’s Spencer, you know me,” He said, his lip quivering, his words warbling with tears, “Please, please come back to me, I don’t know what to do- please just tell me what to do-” 

“Reid, she’s not herself. Hotch said Lewis made him see things, awful things, just like he did with the other victims,” Morgan said, holstering his gun, his own resolve crumbling when he came closer and realised she had her eyes screwed tightly shut, curling herself into a ball in the corner like a kid trying to hide from the boogey-monster.

But Spencer didn’t listen, he couldn’t accept that they had found her alive and still he had been too late, didn’t want to accept that he had her in his grasp and yet she was still living her a personal hell with no end in sight. 

“Please, please, come back to me,” He sniffled, leaning forward onto his knees to try hold her hands in his, maybe get her to hear his voice and wake up from whatever nightmare she was stuck in, “Come on, I got you,”

“No, no, no, you’re not real, you’re not real,” She screeched, shoving his hands off her, and it was then he saw the dribble of tears running off her nose, “You’re not, I won’t kill him, I won’t-”

It was the ravings of a mad woman. But Spencer didn’t doubt for one second that whatever was happening inside that big brain of hers felt entirely real. He heard Morgan draw a sharp breath, turning to face away from the girl and steady himself where his dark eyes lined with woe and salt. 

Spencer hated seeing her cry, hated not knowing how to help her even more, and he didn’t care if she pushed him away even more. He had to hold her, hold her and make her listen, make her understand she was safe because he was there. 

Spencer swore then and there that he wouldn’t let anything touch her ever again as long as he lived. 

It took everything in him to ignore the way her hands scratched at his wrists desperately, and he wondered if in her mind he’d taken the form of some beast ready to swallow her whole. But he was sure he could calm her down with some coaxing, get her to see what was real if he was patient and gentle enough. He scooped an arm under her legs that shook, and it only took him a second to realise he had peed herself in the throes of her nightmare, the sight of it causing another cry to roll from his tongue. He didn’t care about the mess, because his entire focus was on her as her hands thrashed against his chest, trying everything to get him off her, even when his other hand wrapped around the back of her head and pressed her tightly into his shoulder, squeezing her against him in his lap like she was an inconsolable child. 

“Please, please, I can’t, I can’t do it again, I don’t understand,” She wailed, her voiced croaking and pathetic and he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d damaged her vocal chords, “I don’t understand,” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” He cooed softly, pressing his head next to her ear and rocking her slowly, “It’s me, it’s Spencer. I’m real, this is real,”

Her hands stopped their fight against his body, his own grip tight and not showing any signs of letting go any time soon as he waited for her to wear herself out, for her body to lose its adrenaline and slip out of its fight response. She pushed him limply a few more times, with little more than the strength of a toddler, and he knew she was coming back down, at least something close to it. 

“I’m so tired,” Her voice was muddled with tears, slurring and stumbling over each other and it was then that JJ walked in with three paramedics behind her. 

The blonde’s face evened out when she saw the girl was alive, nothing but a few surface wounds, but it was then she saw over Spencer’s shoulder the way her eyes were clenched tightly together, the red marks on Spence’s alabaster skin where she had put up a fight behind cradled in his arms. 

And JJ knew then that something inside Bugsy had changed that day. 

“I know, you were so brave, you were so brave for me,” Spencer nodded, his cheeks flooding as he tried to keep his tone strong, stroking the back of her hair softly, “You did so good, I’m so sorry,” 

“I’m so tired and I don’t understand,” She said, like she was putting sentences together for the first time, and it was like suddenly the fight had been sucked out of her as she slumped against him, not even realising in her haze that she needed to be showered off desperately. 

“I know, honey,” He murmured, sniffling and pressing his face into her neck, “You can sleep now, I got you,”

She hummed like she didn’t quite believe him, like she still thought he was some figment of her imagination, but she hadn’t the strength to fight back, to call his bluff. And so she drifted in and out of sleep, as the paramedics got her on a stretcher, Spencer hovering over her face incase she woke up in a panic again, cracking her eyes open right as they got her on the back of the ambulance and suddenly it wasn’t Spencer’s face she saw flitting in and out of her eyeline, it was Hotch. 

“Hotch-” She tried, her hand swinging out at her side with her attempt of grabbing onto his face because there was a trail of blood down his cheek. Her voice was fried, just like Spencer had suspected, her words sounding as if she had swallowed stones, “Hotch, your head,”

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I should have known he would be there,” Hotch said, as her eyes rolled back, straining desperately to keep herself awake. But she had said it herself. She was just so tired. “I shouldn’t have taken you in there,”

“I don’t think I like dreaming anymore,” She garbled childishly, a small frown on her face, and Hotch bit his lip to hide a whimper, raising a hand to her cheek, and Spencer sat at the foot of the stretcher, his neck and wrists sore where she’d clawed him, but he didn’t care. 

Hotch gave her a long kiss to her forehead, one Spencer pretended not to see for the sake of paperwork, because he knew Hotch needed it, even as she’d been sucked right back into the reverie of sleep, their eyes never left her frail form, not even when the paramedics started hooking things up to her wrists to take her charts. 

Spencer knew then he should have bought that ring. 

–

She’d been staring at the ceiling for about five minutes before he tried to pry an answer out of her. 

He’d tried not to smother her the second she woke up, had seen the hesitation and distrust swirling in her gaze when she saw him there, and he wondered if she thought it was another one of her dreams she had yet to wake up from. But he was real, and he was worried, and he loved her. God, did he love her. Loved her so much he couldn’t stand for one more moment to see her so dissociated from a world where she was his and he was hers and everyone was missing her.  

“What did he make you see?” Spencer tried, his voice as soft as he could try make it without crying, because her gaze remained in her lap, the side effects of the drugs making her a little woozy, “Baby, I can’t help you unless you talk to me, please just, let me help you,” 

Her throat was in agony the second she opened her mouth to speak, ripping with pain when she cleared her throat and in an instant, Spencer’s hand was on her thigh drawing comforting circles with his thumb. 

“Emily was there, she came to- r-rescue me,” She started shakily, her hands trembling beneath the covers and she breathed slowly through her mouth, “S-she wasn’t wearing a vest, and when I asked her she said she’d gotten the first flight out of London to get me; and then… Doyle,”

She swallowed, and he took her hand in his, giving her a reassuring squeeze, and she tried not to let her eyes well up only to find it was already too late. 

“He stabbed her like he did that night, but it was different this time. She was on the floor, trying to get away, begging me to call for help but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything, and I was trying so hard to scream and tell someone, but I couldn’t…” She sniffled, squeezing his hand so tight it hurt, but he didn’t care, “And he wouldn’t stop. He just kept going, over and over again, and I had to watch every second of it knowing it was my fault,” 

The floor was red, a horrible midnight ichor of Emily’s blood seeping from her body, more blood than a person should ever be able to hold. Last time Doyle had killed her, there had been a hairline chance that she would pull through and Emily had beaten all the odds stacked against her. 

But this wasn’t like last time. There was no miracle escape to Europe. Bugsy would be surprised if there was even anything left of her to put in the casket. 

Her eyes were terrified as she watched Doyle drive the knife into Emily’s skin, the scream lodging in her throat for a reason she couldn’t place. She begged herself to do something, say something, tell the man that she would rip him limb from limb if she ever got the feeling back in her legs, wail for help because that was her sister, her big sister, and she’d stopped moving a while ago. 

Stop, stop it, stop it.

But the words wouldn’t come out. She was frozen. Numb. Like someone had unplugged her from the socket, and the only part of her that did work was her eyes, why did it have to be her eyes. 

And the blade was red, so red she thought she’d never see anything else other than red again, as so was the floor, and his arms, and Emily’s clothes. Red. All over. Driving into her stomach with a wet squelch that made Bugsy want to vomit. 

Over and over and over.

She burst out crying then, the first real emotion she’d shown in days, and he was out of his chair in seconds, cradling her to his chest and shuffling to sit next to her on her bed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it wasn’t real, baby,” He soothed, and she shook her head, her tears soaking his shirt through, and all he could do was stroke her hair down and press gentle kisses to her brow, “You were so brave,”

“And his face changed, and he wasn’t Doyle, it was Hotch. And he-he gave me his gun, and said I had to pick between him or you because one of you had to die and-and I wouldn’t do it, I wouldn’t pick-” Her words warbled into his shirt, an amalgamation of sobs and deep breaths in between sentences, but she needed to get it out. It would eat her alive if she didn’t.

“Choose,” It was Hotch’s voice. The same rough edge, same bite he used with the UnSubs they chased, the tone he’d never used on her. 

She shook her head, because the feeling had tingled back up her spine into her neck by now, and with it brought her voice, her sorrow. 

“No, no, Hotch, please don’t make me, I can’t, I won’t-” She sniffled, looking at the thunderous eyes of her unit chief she’d known for years. He didn’t look like himself, like someone was wearing him as a mask, yet she knew it was him by his steady hands that drew his gun from its holster. He had always been sure of himself. 

How had she got here? Had Lewis got to Hotch, brainwashed him into slaughtering and terrorising his own team. Whatever it was, Bugsy knew in her chest that whatever was standing in front of her was not Aaron Hotchner. 

“Me or him,” He said simply, as if it was that easy, as if he wasn’t pressing a gun to Spencer’s head. 

The sob fell from her lips before she could help it, looking to Hotch’s feet where he held the love of her life bound, his eyes rimmed with fear. 

“I can’t, please, I can’t,” She wept, her cheeks soaked, the salt trickling down her neck and into her shirt. Or was it blood. Had she hit her head? Why did her head hurt?

She couldn’t care, couldn’t think of anything other than the fact a monster had taken over the man she thought the world of. She knew if anything happened she would never be able to hold it against him if anything happened, even if it would always be his face in her mind killing Spencer. Because it wasn’t him. It was Lewis. It wasn’t him. 

Hotch’s finger clicked a bullet into the chamber, pointing the gun at Spence’s crown, and she warbled in protest, because her legs were still numb, her body from the waist down useless, but this time she could scream and fight and yell all the ways she begged for this to stop. 

“Hotch, please, please don’t. It’s not real, it’s not real,” She yawped, her chest in agony, her head spinning because she could have sworn Emily was just here, could have sworn she had been coming to save her. Why was Emily here? And she’d usually be embarrassed to admit it at her big age, but she wanted her sister. She wanted her big sister more than anything, “Hotch,” 

But the man who looked and sounded like Aaron Hotchner wasn’t listening. Instead he looked at her with a steely glare, cocking the gun once more between his fingers, “If you’re too much a spoiled little bitch to choose, then I suppose I’ll have to do it for you,”

And with that he pulled the muzzle away from Spencer’s head, and before she could say another word, utter another plea, he angled the weapon under his chin, pointing it straight for his brain, and pulled the trigger. 

She thinks she screamed, though her hearing had gone with a staticky blur, his blood spraying across the wall like something out of a slasher movie. She remembered howling in shock, her face soaked with ichor and salted tears, and she expected Spencer to rush forward, grab her in his arms and cradle her with soft words. 

But he did. Those hazel eyes she would know in every life time stared blankly at her, all trace of terror gone from his gentle face, and in a whirl of movement, he was standing where Hotch had been, his body gone in a wisp of smoke, like he was nothing more than a magician’s magic act, like her chest hadn’t just cleaved in two at the sight of him dying. 

And Spencer took his place, the lips she’d kissed a thousand times pressed into a scowl, the hands she wanted to melt under, to hold her and tell her he was going to fix everything and make it make sense again holding the loaded gun. 

And at his feet, bound by the same rope he had been was JJ. Freightened, beaten. Mother, wife, best friend, sister. JJ.

“Choose,” Spencer said, but it was cold and unfeeling. Nothing like the saccharine tone he used with her, and she felt the pit of pain and suffering and dread that had opened in her stomach grow only deeper, “Me or her,”  

–

She had cried for about two hours after that, and he had held her for all seven thousand, two hundred seconds of it, stroking her hair, reassuring her that Lewis was gone, the drug disposed of, and more importantly, telling her he would never let anything like that happen to her again, over his cold, lifeless body. 

And he meant it. With everything in him, Spencer would never let an UnSub get so close to harming the woman he loved. Not a bruise, or a cut. Not even a scratch. 

And for the three days they’d kept her in for observation she’d slept, and slept some more like she hadn’t known a wink of rest in years. And with it came the nightmares, of all the people she loved splattering their own brains over the walls, Chose, chose, me or them?

But by the fourth day she was allowed more than one visitor in her room, the spot that had solely been filled by Spencer, who would take to his grave that he’d gone home and washed their clothes of the mess she’d made when she wasn’t herself. 

And on that fourth day, the team had arrived with love by the bucket load, because Bugsy was family, and family never let each other suffer alone.

“Oh, look at you!” It was Penelope first, ofcourse it was Penelope first, “Spencer, where’s that cardigan I told you to bring her, she could get cold, and that purple is so her colour- oh what am I saying, come here!” 

Penelope bounded over to her bedside, not completely blind to the way Spencer tensed up as she threw her arms around the girl, fighting his urge to chide Garcia into being more gentle because he knew he’d been hogging time with her while the others had been forced to wait. 

“Pen,” Bugsy said, breathing out and hugging the woman back as hard as she could, “Why do you smell like lavender?” 

Garcia released her clutches (reluctantly) and produced a big tote bag of trinkets, one of which Bugsy suspected was a candle. 

“Spencer said they might be keeping you another couple of days and so I brought you some goodies to cheer this place up,” She said with a chirp, reaching in her bag for two stuffed teddies, and Bugsy’s eyes melted when she realised they resembled Niko and Sergio, their colourings not quite identical but the thought had been there, “So you don’t miss your boys too much.”

Bugsy smiled, her chest spreading with warmth “Thankyou so much, Penelope,” 

And Garcia went to respond, her smile wide and relieved, when another voice spoke up behind her, “Quite hogging her, mama, there are people waiting to see the kid,” 

Penelope rolled her eyes which made Bugsy snicker slightly, moving out the way for Derek to lean over her bedside and give her a tight squeeze. 

“You gave us a scare and a half, baby cakes,” He said with a sigh, and she hugged him back the best she could, though his arm muscles were the size of her head. 

“I’m sorry,” She murmured, and he patted her on the back gently, before letting her go for the next person waiting to pounce on her. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t need to be sorry,” JJ shushed, her slender arms all but crushing her into her chest, and she heard the breath of relief from the woman’s throat as she stroked a hand over her spine, “Just get better for us, okay?”

And Bugsy knew she didn’t mean the crack in her nose Peter Lewis had given her when he’d grabbed her by the nape of her neck and slammed her face into the wooden door the second Hotch’s back was turned. She meant the screaming. The nightmares. The chill that ran down her spine even now when she looked at every one of her friends and remembered that night. Picturing their brains on the wall, their blood on her face-

“Henry drew you a picture,” JJ said, pulling away and presenting her with her own gift basket full of homemade goodies and fresh pyjamas because the ones she had from the hospital were starting to itch, “He said you needed magic kisses,” 

Plucking the card from the front of the wrapping, her lips quirked into a smile when she saw two stick figures, a small dot with yellow hair labelled ‘henry’ with an arrow, and a tall woman with a triangle dress and two glittery wings labelled ‘bugy’, and she was almost certain it was because they had played fairies and princes the last time she had gone over. 

She flipped the page, and saw his hand writing scrawled in a green crayon, a few spelling errors here and there where he had tried his best. 

‘to bugy

mommy said you wer hurt at work and needed somethink to make you happy agan.

I gave the card majick kisses before mommy takes it to the hospital to make you better agan. 

also plees coud we play princes again some time soon.

Love Henry’ 

She chuckled, her finger stroking over the letters gently, because she could imagine him at his little blue table writing it out for her, and she handed it off to Spencer to put on her bedside table. 

“Thankyou JJ,” She said earnestly, and the blonde nodded, squeezing her leg under the blanket gently before she moved over for Rossi to shuffle in, ruffling the girl’s hair because he would joke later that his back couldn’t handle all the movement when really he felt like she’d been mauled with enough affection for one day. 

“You okay, kid?” He said, his eyes roving over the bruise on her nose that had bled into her eyes, and she nodded, smiling up at him somewhat convincingly. 

“I’m still kicking aren’t I?” She said, and the older man chuckled, shaking his head, “Can’t get rid of me that easily,”

And it was almost true, the small seed of double planting in her own head because for a second in that house she had thought things were done for her. And Spencer had thought the same, judging by the way he nervously cleared his throat, playing with the collars of his shirt.

But Rossi nodded with her, “You kidding? There’s enough life left in you to resurrect all of my dead end marriages,” The team snickered, Rossi squeezing her arm the way grandads do, “Kate sends her love, she had to take Meg to her dance recital, she said she’s dropping by later with good coffee,” 

Bugsy took a sigh of pleasure, because she would kill for a steaming cup of good coffee, and Rossi smiled at her attitude they’d all missed in the office. 

And then there was Hotch, who looked damn near like a dog with a tail between his legs, sporting his own jagged forehead wound that had been stitched up, his lips pulled into a guilty pout unlike everyone else's grateful beams. 

“Bugsy,” He started mournfully, and he swallowed heavily, “I’m-” 

“Don’t-” She shook her head, looking up at him from where she’d sat up in the bed to accommodate everyone’s hugging, “It wasn’t your fault, so don’t give me that. He caught us both of guard,” 

But he still didn’t look like he quite accepted that answer, settling to reach out and squeeze the hand that was laying across her stomach, his skin warm and rough as he held her like she was cracking glass under his touch. 

She realised she had been wrong that day with Lewis, when she’d been damn near shaking in her spot because of the man who looked so much like Hotch, and she saw the fatal flaw that gave it all away. 

His face was set in a frown more often than not, and it was for that reason a lot of the agents on the other floors lived in fear of SSA Hotchner’s thunderous tone and barking attitude, but Bugsy knew that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Because while he could be cold and domineering and bossy, his eyes told her all she needed to know. 

He was hurt. He was guilty. He was worried. He was mourning. He couldn’t stop seeing Peter Lewis slitting her throat in that flash of a blade. He didn’t want to take his eyes off her incase it was all a dream in itself, that they had never been found, he had never woke up, they had never saved her. 

His eyes were haunted by the past twenty years of his life, perhaps what happened even before then because she wasn’t so stupid to miss how he was more rough on child beaters and abusive fathers than he was their usual UnSubs, how he was so extra gentle with Jack, how he hated raising his voice. And inside the big scary exterior, Bugsy saw a boy who only wanted to save everyone because no one was ever there to save him. 

She squeezed his hand tightly in hers, pulling him towards her and he’d resisted hugging her to start with because he knew the frog would leap into his throat, but he could never deny her. And he didn’t, he simply leaned over, caressed the back of her head over his shoulder with one of his enormous palms and gave her a warm hug no monster or demon or whatever she had seen could ever be capable of. 

And Bugsy felt stupid for ever believing anything she’d seen. 

–

They stayed for another hour or so, Derek running out to grab Bugsy a subway because the food at the hospital hadn’t been the best, and she had devoured the steak and cheese footlong so fast Rossi’s brows had raised into his hairline. Spencer handed her a strawberry flavoured pudding pot, the lid already peeled open for her and a spoon.

And it was then a figure came rushing through the door, so fast they were surprised they hadn’t heard the heels on the linoleum and the whole room stopped for a breath, Bugsy dropped her pudding cup down her shirt, barely even making her first bite count. 

“Why did no one tell me those two were screwing for eight months?” Emily barked, gesturing between the two agents that cuddled up on the hospital bed, and almost as soon as the pure joy to see her older sister had flooded her body, it ebbed again, and Bugsy rolled her eyes.

“Eleven hour flight, Em, and a buttload of head trauma and that’s all you have to say to me?” She snipped, mopping up her pudding with the edge of her finger. 

“I got weekly updates about the consistency of Sergio’s bowel movements but this you missed out?” She threw her hands up, sighing in contempt and almost immediately the girls were bickering like they hadn’t spent a single day apart from one another, but then Spencer supposed that’s what happened when you were blood. 

And part of him wondered just who was going to tell Emily about the proposal, the same small part that had gone and bought the ring just yesterday while she’d been sleeping. 

He supposed he could live with it being his secret for a few weeks longer. 

--

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Only The Best For You

Kimi Raikkonen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad's best friend!kimi, reader is 20/21 - reader is old enough to make her own decisions, your dad isn't pleased with the gift, one mention of alcohol and one mention of death, sexual tension, kinda power imbalance, kimi gives into the intrusive thoughts, nipple play, fingering for like 0.2 seconds, one use of the word 'daddy' in a sexual way, penetrative sex (p in v), gagging, finger sucking, 'whore' used in a sexual/degrading term.

Word Count: 2,400

Author's Note: for all my dad best friend freaks and the kimi whores, this one's for you <3 -- also ignore that it's gucci in the pic but it's something different in the fic loool I couldn't find a different pic I liked.

merry smutmas series

--

Kimi spends the holidays with his old friends. He doesn’t forget you; bringing you exactly what you had been wishing for and you make sure to thank him.. properly.

An old L/N family tradition.

Since you were a child, your parents and grandparents allowed you to open one gift from them on Christmas eve, letting you enjoy the magic of Christmas a few hours early.

You were grown up now, in college and your grandparents had sadly passed on but your parents kept the tradition going. You had come home for Christmas break and it was Christmas Eve. Your parents have just finished dinner and you have moved to the living room.

It was yourself, your parents and your dad's best friend, Kimi. You had known Kimi your whole life practically but he was always away racing so you never saw much of him until lately, now that he's officially retired - for good this time.

"Shall we open gifts?" Your father asks, walking into the living room. He passed a glass of what looks like whiskey to Kimi, who was next to you, before sitting beside your mother.

She looks over at her husband. "Honey, isn't she too grown for that?"

Your father rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "It's a family tradition, now hush. Go pick a present."

Your mum picks first, picking one from your father that just so happened to be the new perfume she wanted. Your father was next and he picked out one from you. It's a story book he used to read to you as a kid, you had written all of your favourite memories of the two of you inside of it. You made him cry, both you and Kimi laughing about that.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Your father nods towards the tree, you move from the couch to the floor, kneeling in front of the tree to pick out a gift.

A gift sticks out to you; red wrapping paper with little elves of it and your name written in cursive across the front of it. You pick it up, shaking it a bit to see what was in it.

It felt hard, as if it was a box. You looked towards your parents, "is it from you guys?"

Your dad looks towards your mom; she took care of all of the holiday shopping. The woman shakes her head, "it's not from us, sweetie."

The gift on your lap when you glance over your shoulder at Kimi. He gives you a small smile, so small you almost miss it.

He nods towards the gift, waiting for you to open it. You rip the wrapping paper very carefully, revealing the red box underneath; the gold lettering was cursive - Cartier.

Your jaw was already dropping, looking back at the man. "You didn't," you say and he nods again, waiting for you to open the box to see what was inside.

"Kimi, what did you do?" Your mother asks, looking over at your father. He was never one for brands or jewellery, he didn't realize that buying something there automatically was an expensive purchase.

Lifting the cover carefully, the velvet black fabric inside the box held a white gold chain, blue sapphires set along the entire thing.

If your jaw wasn't already on the floor, it would be now. "Kimi!" You turned to face the man, setting the box on the couch carefully. "You did not!"

"I did," he nods. He's always been a man of very few words; more of an action rather than words type of guy.

"What is it?" Your father asks and you hand the red box over to him for him to see.

He shows your mother as he holds the box, he doesn't realize that he's holding a little over €40,000 in his hands at the moment. "Oh Kimi, it's beautiful." Your mother gushes, handing it back over to you.

You were still on the floor, admiring the necklace in the box. "Well, turn around." Kimi says and you do, sitting just between his legs.

He reaches over to take the box from you and carefully takes the chain out of its box before you lift your hair. Kimi leans forwards and you can feel his fingers brush against your skin and his breath on your shoulders when he loops it around your neck and hooks the clasp.

"It looks gorgeous on you, darling." Your mom says, smiling at you.

Your phone's in one hand and your other hand gently touches the chain, straightening it as you admired how it looked on you. "Kimi, this is too much. It's so expensive." You whisper to him and he shrugs.

"How expensive are we talking?" Your father finally speaks, looking over at his friend.

Kimi answers nonchalantly; "Like.. €40,000."

Your father instantly sits up, his jaw hanging open. "What?! Kimi, are you out of your mind?"

"Please," he looks over at his friend in disapproval. His hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb passing over your soft skin. "She's a good girl, she deserves it."

You can't help but shift a bit when he calls you a good girl, the words hitting you right where you shouldn't. It was wrong, he was your father's friend and you were.. well, you were attracted to him. You couldn't deny it; Kimi was an attractive man and despite his lack of words, he was very charming.

"Y/n, say thank you. You can't not say it when he's spent so much." Your father tells you, and you turn around to face Kimi.

"Thank you, Kimi," you smiled at him, sitting on your knees when you reached up to give the man a hug. His arms wrapped around you, his warm hand pressed to your back. "You're welcome, angel."

Another nickname that hits you in all the wrong places.

--

As the night goes on, your parents head up for bed as do you. Kimi was the last one to bed from your understanding and as the house grew quiet, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

You find yourself sat on your bed, pjs on - a tank top and a pair of shorts with a €40,000 chain around your neck.

It was nearing 3am, the witching hours as your mum says. You find yourself getting up and heading downstairs. The initial thought was to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water but you got side tracked when you see a light coming from Kimi's room.

You knock, peeking around the space left between the door frame and the actual door. "Come in," he waves to you and you step in, shutting the doors behind you. The TV was on, a rerun of some show you couldn't quite place was on.

"What are you doing up?" He asks, glancing at his phone to check the time. "Do you know how late it is?"

"I couldn't sleep," you tell him, looking over at the TV. "Can I join you?"

He shrugs, nodding towards the empty space next to him. You quietly make your way over, sitting next to him on the bed. Kimi don't miss the way your shorts hike up when you crawl over to the empty spot; it's so wrong for him to be looking at you like that but can you blame the man? You were gorgeous and you were in his bed after all.

The two of you sit quietly, watching as the show rolls on into another episode. You unconsciously play with the chain, shifting it back and forth slowly.

Kimi looks over at you, smiling to himself; you were the picture of beauty.

"You're staring," you mumble, glancing at him. He smiles, like actually smiles. "You're beautiful."

Your cheeks are red, you hope that the light coming from the tv isn't bright enough for him to realize that just yet.

"It looks good on you," he says, "like it was made for you."

"Blue has always been my favourite colour." You smiled, glancing down at the chain. "Did you pick it yourself?"

He nods, "I saw it and thought of you, I figured you'd like it."

"I do, very much." You look over at him, Kimi smiles at you and your hand shifts from your thigh to his, rubbing along it softly. Kimi's brows furrow ever so slightly. He doesn't say anything, hoping that you'd stop if he ignores it.

You were persistent.

Your hand travels higher, about to rub over the ever so evident bulge in his shorts but Kimi catches your hand, holding your wrist. "We can't, y/n."

"Why not?"

"It's wrong," he whispers, glancing at the door - you weren't sure if he wanted you to leave or if he was catching to see if it was locked. You wiggle your hand from his grasp, Kimi lets out a small breath of relief; see, the man was stupid enough to think you were stopping.

You didn't stop. Instead, you got on his lap, straddling him with your hands on his shoulders. Kimi's hand rests on your lower back as he looks at you.

"Let me thank you properly," you whisper, lips ghosting over his.

Kimi reaches up, his lips pressed to yours but he's yet to kiss you. "You don't have too."

"I want to.. I want you," you mumbled, finally kissing the man. Your hand cupping his jaw, Kimi's hand slips under the tank top you had on and slides up your back to undo your bra but finds you don't have one on.

Kimi pushes the straps of your tank top down off your shoulders. You sat comfortably on his lap, letting him have his way with you and the man wanted one thing. He leans forward, arms wrapped around you as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Kimi, fuck- please.” You mumble, your hand tangled in his blonde hair, tugging on it. As such as you loved the attention, you needed him.

He glances up at you, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. He groans when you pull on his hair a little harder but what's a little pain when he's making you feel good?

It was heavy, heated.

His hands on your body, pulling you over and onto him. You were perched on his lap, Kimi's hands on your ass when he kissed you again.

Not a word is spoken between the two of you and what little clothes you had on was gathered in a pile on the floor when he rolls you two over. You were flat on your back with Kimi settled between your legs.

“Please,” your hand rested on his jaw, “daddy, please.”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; it's sinful, so sinful in so many ways but he couldn't care less. You drove him mad.

His hand slips between the two of you, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your hips lift, wanting more from him.

Kimi’s hand wandered a little lower, a finger pushed in slowly. He can feel how wet you are, wrapped around his finger and he smiles.

He moves his finger slowly, curling it. He takes pleasure in watching you, seeing how your face twists and how your body reacts to his touch.

"Please," you whimpered, "don't make me wait."

Kimi can't bring himself to say no to you.

He sits, pushing his shorts down and you get the hint, getting on top of him. Your hands grip on his shoulders, balancing yourself. Your knees on either side of his lap, Kimi's hand reaches under you to help you, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, making your hip shift forward a bit. His free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him, his name tumbling from your lips.

You take a moment to get used to the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs along your lower back, leaning into you to kiss down your neck.

You rock your hips forward and Kimi's head drops back, his eyes now closed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” His hand pats your hip, “made just for me.” He tells you, your lips now on his neck - a trail of marks and sloppy kisses being left along his neck.

He pulls one of your legs up forward, pulling you down further. “Fuck,” you breathe, his thrusts faster and harder. How you wished you could scream his name right now. Kimi's hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit.

Your head falls back, manicured nails digging into his pale skin when he hits the spot he was looking for. He watches as you bounce on his lap, the sapphires around your neck bouncing in rhythm with you. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

Your brows furrowed, an excited look on your face despite it all. You can feel his cock twitch in you, his lips next to your ear when he leans in.

"You've got to be quiet, angel. Wouldn't want them to catch you being a whore for me, hm?

You mumble something along an okay, your hips bucking, telling him you want more. Your tongue laps around his fingers, Kimi watches as you suck on them. There's a wicked smile on his face, his hips lifting to meet you halfway.

He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure. Kimi leans forward as his lips wrap around your nipple. His tongue lapped over your nipple, biting on it softy; just enough to get you to arch your back, pushing into him.

“Come on darling,” he mumbles against your skin, now kissing up to your collarbone. Kimi's hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

His arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back.

Your heart beats out of your chest as you catch your breath. Kimi smiles, kissing along your shoulder. "Feel good?" He asks and you mumble something, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I take it I should spoil you more often, hm?" He chuckles, making you smile when you sit up. Kimi straightens your necklace, kissing your chin.

You shake your head and smile. "Don't have to spoil me for me to do that."

Kimi smiles at you, giving you a kiss. "Merry Christmas, y/n."

"Merry Christmas, Kimi."

--

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr  @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[lovings4turn]

ᯓ★ 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒)

— you know that you’re not the only girl in lando’s life; far from it, actually. but for now, you’ll take what he’ll give you, and act like none of it matters.

+ not quite cheating , lando just messes around a lot . little bit of angst and pining , but reader is over it at this point . sexual content - read at your own discretion please .

+ based on ‘nothing matters’ by the last dinner party

shallow, steady breathing comes from the man beside you, his bare torso beginning to bruise like a forbidden fruit courtesy of the sloppy, brutal kisses you had blessed him with. lando has only just fallen asleep, an arm thrown lazily over your exposed midsection.

a death sentence would be easier to swallow, you imagine. at least that’s definite, concretely defined. nothing like your relationship with lando, which blurs far too many boundaries and yet is crystal clear.

he’s not yours, no. never has been and likely never will be. he’s a good time, a night of bliss that will have your cheeks burning every time you reminisce on it.

you’re not thinking straight, mind clouded by something resembling lust, or maybe lunacy. both are long intertwined in your mind by this point.

absentmindedly, you dig your fingers into lando's arm, not through a desire to hurt him, but to find something lurking beneath the surface of his skin. something more than just the physical, deeper than his teasing grazes and searing kisses. something that resembles brunch dates and matching jewellery over quick fucks and frantic make out sessions.

because the thrill is there.

you’re aware of the excitement, the flips in your stomach whenever you’re around lando, and you know he feels it too, the words having left his own lips between downright sinful spews of praise. potential flickers between you both like the first embers of a fire, needing only the smallest of ignitions to burn bright and dangerous.

but then, morning comes, and lando leaves for a new country, mind set on race tracks and his mclaren whilst you pine for the warmth of his body in your bed. 

and then, of course, comes the rumours. lando leaving a club with this girl, caught dancing with another, apparently on a romantic breakfast date with a third. 

you can’t even be pissed.

as far as you’re both concerned, lando is a free agent. there’s no ties to you, no bright red ribbon of romance entangling you together in a neat little package, impossible to separate. 

both of you know that lando doesn’t belong to you, nor you to him. hell, if you wanted, you could go out and do the same. it wouldn’t be hard to pick up a guy, fool around for the night and exchange brief pleasantries as he leaves your apartment the next day. yet, you can never bring yourself to do it.

but it’s fine, as long as lando always makes his way back to you.

when his hands grip your waist hard enough to bruise, chain dangling in your face as his hips snap against your own, cock brushing up against the spongy spot that makes you see stars, you can’t find it in yourself to care that his touch still lingers on another woman like a ghost.

you’ll still accept his kisses, swallowing his moans into your mouth in some desperate attempt to retain even the smallest piece of him as a keepsake; you’ll still fuck him like absolutely nothing matters.

what would be your other option? if you broke off whatever this thing was, lando would still be going out and messing around with girls. his behaviour wouldn’t change in the slightest, and you’d be at a loss. in sticking around, at least you’re fortunate enough to get a good fucking every now and again. 

your friends can't understand it, how willing you are to put your heart into the palm of his hand and pray he doesn't crush it. countless efforts to talk some sense into you have gone straight over your head, the words not even registering in your mind as the image of lando plants roots in your brain.

his strangled moans, his gasps of 'so fuckin' good, all for me', and the way he spreads your legs as he draws orgasm after orgasm from your spent body, none of it matters, at the end of the day. 

these aren’t sights reserved only for your eyes; you're unsure just how many others have bore witness to what you wish was your own private show. it’s nihilistic, but you no longer care.

for now, lando can hold you just as he’s held every other woman he’s fooled around with, and in return, you’ll fuck him like nothing else matters.

[leahsgirl]

blind date | leah williamson x reader

in which you and your fellow england teammate are set up on a blind date. no warnings, just pure fluff really.

i’m having such major writing block right now so hoping this pulls me out of it or i’ll scream. 💪

-

“wit woo!” your roommate alessia hollered as you finished putting on your earrings.

“do i look okay?” you did a full spin, showcasing the tight fitting black dress you had on that fell just above your knees, gold heels on ur feet, gold jewellery and your hair that flowed below your shoulders in loose curls.

“you look gorgeous - your date won’t know what hit them.” the blonde replied with a smirk, coming over and fixing your necklace so the clasp didn’t keep slipping to the front.

“can’t believe youse have bullied me into this.” your national teammates had made your love life the new topic of interest since you was ‘hot and single’ and should ‘get out there more’.

while they raised a good point, a blind date is the last thing you wanted considering you was probably the most socially awkward person going when meeting new people. not to mention; your teammates planned it which in itself is enough to make you not want to go.

“you’ll have a great time, wouldn’t be surprised if you hear wedding bells at the end of it.” the forward winked having way too much fun at this whole scenario.

“calm your horses russo, i don’t plan on that for another five years.”

seeing the time you scramble to get your belongings and find your car keys. “right i’m off wish me luck!” you shout out as you close the front door.

from the adress that tooney had messaged you beforehand you found yourself outside a small restaurant at the end of a street. it looked nice and welcoming from the outside to be fair.

now when your teammates said blind date, you didn’t expect to walk in to sheer darkness, bumping into something as soon as you entered the premises.

“name.” what you can only assume was a waiter asked. “oh sorry; y/n.”

“ah right this way miss - if you could just place your hand on my colleagues shoulder and we’ll guide you through.”

following the man’s instructions you lightly gripped the man and was led into a separate room which was still as dark, but you could at least hear voices of other customers there.

“your seat madam, your date should arrive shortly.” great you thought, first one to arrive which only meant more nerves could inevitably build up.

trying to burn some of the time you felt the table, getting to grips with where the cutlery and place mats were.

“miss your date has arrived, please take a seat.” the man motioned to the booth not that anyone could see it. “thank y- ah shite!”

“are you okay?” you asked after hearing a slight bang.

“yeah just banged my pissing thigh on the table.” the voice was one of a woman’s, also one that was incredibly familiar.

“not the best way to start a date eh. i’m leah.”

“shut up!” alessia’s playful comments and expressions, teammates overwhelming interest, the whole blind date notion in general now making a whole lot of sense.

“wow can’t say i’ve ever had that greeting.” the england captain a little confused.

“no leah it’s me, y/n.”

“piss off.” you could hear the disbelief in her voice, she too apparently well unaware of the obvious set up.

“take it you were also forced to go on a date with a stranger.”

“oh i’m so going to kill georgia for this.” leah scoffed before pausing “not because the date is with you! i just mean the whole deceit in general.”

“don’t worry i’ll be planning lessi and tooney’s revenge after.”

“gotta give them credit though, they’ve paired two incredibly hot women together.” leah was smirking while you was essentially swooning over the fact she called you hot.

“yeah but why? it’s not like you like me romantically or anything.”

just before leah could reply one of the waiters returned to the table “can i get you ladies something to drink?”

“erh i’ll have a margarita please.” you deciding on the same thing and ordering it.

“well we may as well treat this as a date considering that’s what we’re here for.” there was a brief pause. “so y/n, what do you do for a living?”

you laugh as you engage in her playfulness. “i’m actually a professional football player, both man united and england.”

“oh wow that’s cool, do you like it?” the older girl asked faking curiosity, resting her chin on her hand as she moved closer.

“it has its ups and downs, there’s this girl on my national squad though who is super competitive - she cried when i beat her at mario kart.” you beamed knowing leah would not appreciate the bringing up of her defeat.

“hey you said you’d let that go!” breaking away from her ‘never met you before’ character. “sorry.” (you wasn’t sorry at all).

“okay my turn; do you have any hobbies?”

“i’m quite good at kicking a ball around too to be fair.” you quirked a brow. “oh are you?”

“yeah if you google leah williamson you might see some of my skills. i’m also very good at sudoku.” the blonde wasn’t lying considering you’ve watched her play it hundreds of times, you yourself never being able to grasp the game.

after a bunch of easy, lighthearted conversation, food had arrived, leah opting for a steak and you on pasta.

“oh my god this is to die for.” having your first taste and the flavours melting on your tongue. “you’ve gotta try this.” you move your spoon towards the blonde’s direction “that’s my eye babe.” she said with a laugh, your cheeks immediately flushing at the embarrassing miscalculation and pet name. “shit my bad.”

“mhm your right, might have to swap plates.” leah acknowledging the how delicious it was.

“back off williamson.” you reply sternly as you wack away her hand with the back of your unused fork.

time was going by pretty fast, the pair of you fully present and engaged with each other. you didn’t even bother looking at your phone which now had a build up of messages off your friends asking how it was going.

maybe you both were a little tipsy when leaving the restaurant after splitting the bill, having taken a tumble up the step.

the cold breeze was like a harsh slap to your face once outside, a large juxtaposition from the building that was warm and cozy.

“wow.” a stunned leah stood behind as she took you in. “what?” having now taken notice to the blatantly obvious staring from the arsenal player.

“you. you look incredible.” her eyes racking every single inch of your body. “i’ve never really seen you this dressed up. it’s hot.”

“y’know being showered in compliments by leah williamson isn’t half bad.” revelling in the smooth girls words of praise.

“and yet i don’t get a single one back.” jutting out her lip and faking hurt which only made you laugh and roll your eyes.

“i guess you do scrub up okay, the outfit is a solid 9/10 i’d say.”

“we’ve got to improve on those compliment skills.” the blonde scoffed.

“can’t say anything too nice, that ego of yours will human combust.” you say already aware of the defenders cockiness/arrogance. “i’d say my ego is the perfect size thank you very much.”

“okay well thanks for this ‘date.’” using your hands to air quote. “-i’ve had a good time.”

leah smiled “me too.”

you stop for a second almost hesitating doing something before ultimately deciding against it, bidding your goodbye as you turned on your heel to make your way back to your car.

“y/n wait!” jogging to catch up with you, the blue-eyed girl grabbed at your arm making you stumble back and face her. “what’s up?”

her gaze flicking between your eyes and lips as her heart pounded out her chest “i forgot to do this.”

said barely above a whisper, her lips found themselves pressed against yours. the touch so light almost like she was afraid she’d scare you away.

that couldn’t be further from the truth though, with you reciprocating the kiss by deepening it as she moved her hands so they wrapped around your waist.

pulling away youse both had rosy cheeks and heaving chests, smiling dopily at each other.

“get in!” “fucking finally!” the pair looked around for the sudden screams, shock plastered on your face when you see ella and georgia peeping out behind a wall.

leah following your gaze and spotting the teammates “have you guys been watching us?!”

stanway was the one to reply “only the last five minutes; never knew you had that game within you lee.” winking, referring to the public display of affection youse just gave.

“it was so fun to see y/n swooning.” tooney added laughing menacingly.

you and leah lock eyes, sharing a look both of you seem to understand. “shall we get our revenge?” the captain asked slyly, you agreeing immediately.

taking notice of the devilish grins that were plastered on the pair, georgia and ella looked uneasy, starting to retract slowly but surely.

“come here you little shits!” running after the girls while they squealed like little kids, making their getaway.

[flamingo-writes]

A Dinner Invitation — Hobie x Reader

Based off my Gal In The Chair headcannons

Genre: fluff, slice of life. Plotless fluff basically.

Warnings: none. Perhaps cursing? I don’t remember, at this point my brain writes curse words like they’re not actually curse words.

Summary: Miles gets a dinner invitation at Hobie’s universe. Not only Miles walks into Hobie’s home, which is as artistic as he expected, but much greener than he imagined. And there he meets Hobie’s girlfriend, equally artistic, perfectly matching Hobie’s energy. Seeing Hobie so relaxed and affectionate feels weirdly intimate and refreshing to Miles.

Word Count: 1.2K words

A/N: I’ve been daydreaming of all sorts of scenarios revolving the Gal in The Chair. So, be ready for the spam 😩 if you’d like to be tagged, let me know.

“Home, sweet’eart!” Hobie said walking inside the seemingly chaotic place, as Gwen, Pav and Miles followed him.

Miles looked around, surprised by the amount of things lying around. It was chaotic but didn’t look dirty. Almost as if everything had been purposefully place where it was. It was a small apartment with hardly any furniture. But there were art projects, materials and plants everywhere. Plants everywhere. The confusion only seemed to grow with every step, the apartment smelled like a woman lived there, but didn’t smell like Gwen.

And still puzzled by what went on between Hobie and Gwen, specially after he’d said she’d left her jumper, among the things he’d heard, he was sure there was something going on between them. And judging by the apartment, —and the smell of girl’s perfume—, it did seem like Hobie might live with one.

As Miles felt simultaneously more confused and somewhat relieved, he saw Hobie walk up to a girl working on a mannequin, fixing some clothes. He kissed the top of her headache wrapped his arms around her waist.

“That looks cool…” He purred. “Sexy, even…”

The girl giggled and looked over at Hobie as they kissed.

Miles sighed relieved.

“Will you model that for me later today?” Hobie asked with a flirty smirk.

“I can’t. This is a personalised piece Julie asked for…” The girl said looking over her shoulder at Hobie with a gentle smile and loving stare. “How did it go?”

“Messy,” Hobie said letting go of the girl. “awful, but Gwendy and Pav are here and I brought a new friend…” He said.

Pav yelled your name as you put down the needles and pins and greeted Pav in a tight hug. You let out a soft giggle as Pav lifted you up effortlessly, as if it had been ages since he last saw you.

“Who…?” Miles whispered confused.

“Hobie’s girlfriend,” Gwen said.

“A true renaissance artist,” Hobie said before introducing you to Miles, telling him your name. “Buy her stuff. She personalises and fixes your clothes, also does that with secondhand clothes. She also designs them as well as handmade Jewellery. Brings your plants back to health, she also reproduces and sells them, if you ever want to gift your mum some pretty plants or flowers…Helps me setting up my art shows, and set up everything for a gig. She’s also my left hand, best friend, lover, and favourite person on earth,” Hobie said proudly as you blushed lightly as Pav let you go from his tight bear hug.

“I’m not as interesting as Hobes just made me sound…” You said modestly walking up to Miles.

“But she is,” Pav intervened and walked into the kitchen, parading around the place like he lived there.

“I’m…Miles…” He said with an awkward chuckle as he extended his stiff hand towards you.

“Nice meeting you Miles. Coffee? Tea? We also have plain ol’water…Juice…”

“N-no thanks…” Miles chuckled awkwardly. “I’m fine. Thank you…” He said as he looked around. “So you do all of this for a living?”

“Sadly, in this highly capitalist and consumerist society, people do not appreciate the handwork of a true artist…” Hobie said as Miles looked slightly puzzled at him.

“That’s Hobie for, I do this full time even though it’s a lot of stuff, I barely manage to make a living out of this,”

“No way!”

“People don’t buy plants nor get their clothes fixed everyday,” You shrugged.

“Hey!” Pav said defensively as he went into the kitchen.

“Pav always buys plants, though” You chuckled. “Hobie helps me a lot too, the both of us manage to keep this whole place afloat,” You sad looking at Hobie with a dreamy smile.

Hobie from the kitchen looked at you with a cheeky flirty smirk and winked at you.

“Buy your mother a nice set of earrings and a plant, kid…” Hobie told Miles as he walked out of the kitchen with a cup of chai.

“My mother really liked the flowers I bought her last week,” Pav said. “Also the necklace and earrings set you made for her!”

“I’m glad, Pav. You know where to find me…” You said happily as Hobie wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple as he handed you the cup.

“I made some chai, if anyone wants some” Pav said happily.

You took a sip out of Hobie’s mug and hummed.

“God, no matter how many times I do it, it’s never as good as Pav’s…” You sighed softly.

“My man’s got a talent,” Hobie said.

“Gotta go back to that shirt I was working on,” You announced. “Are you guys staying for dinner?”

“Gwendy and I can handle dinner, you go do your thing, luv” Hobie said as he grabbed your jaw in his long fingers and kissed you sweetly. “Call you when it’s done,” He said softly as you hummed and stole one last peck from him before handing him back his cup and went back to the mannequin.

“Can you bring me my own cup of chai?”

“Anything for you, princess,” Hobie said with a soft voice as he turned around and went into the kitchen.

Miles looked at you as you went back to measuring and putting pins on the mannequin. Quickly absorbed by your work.

"Gorgeous, isn’t she?” Hobie said with a proud smirk. "C’mon, y’all wanna have dinner, y’all better help…"

Despite the chatty mess of laughs and sarcastic comments, Miles was still intrigued with how you never seemed to lose focus from your work. Even when they were being crazy loud. Blending naturally into the commotion, Miles felt comfortable between all of them. Wondering whether if it was because they all were spider people, or simply because the over all energy marched his own. He had friends before, but never a group of friends like this one. He felt absolutely free, being able to behave naturally without the fear of being judged or stared at.

Pav took over the kitchen, making most of the work himself. While the food was ready, Pav and Gwen talked about spices as Miles kept looking around intrigued. At some point, Hobie disappeared from the scene, and as Miles was looking for Hobie, his eyes dragging, looking over every detail in the apartment. Eventually, he spotted Hobie’s tall figure towering over you.

As you set down your tools, and Hobie pulled a chair next to you, he cupped your face in his large hands and pulled you close, kissing you sweetly. Something about Hobie being the badass and cool punk, a guy who was seemingly ready to start a coup d’état anywhere, now looked like the biggest softy he’d ever seen, while still looking cool somehow.

Feeling weirdly love sick and jealous, he didn’t intend to stare as Hobie and you kissed. He thought about how good it must be to have what the two of you had. He glanced over at Gwen, feeling his crush poking at him, twisting his guts as Gwen met his stare and smiled. She then looked over at the both of you.

“Aren’t they gross?” Gwen asked with a playful smirk.

“I think they’re cute,” Pav intervened.

Miles chuckled and gazed back at you, as you were now hugging Hobie. Your hand disappearing in his wicks, as his face was nuzzled against the crook of your neck and his arms around your waist.

“I think they’re cute. Perhaps slightly gross…” Miles joked.

“It makes me kinda jealous. I wish I could get the courage to ask Meera out on a date…” Pav sighed.

“We can hear ya talking over ‘ere, lads…” Hobie chuckled.

“You’re so nosy,” You chuckled kissing Hobie’s head.

“We knew that,” He replied as he pulled away from the hug and stared at you, cupping one of your cheeks in his large hand. “Absolutely gorgeous,” He said as he leaned forward and stole a peck from your lips. “How’s dinner, Pav?”

“Basically done. One or two more minutes,” He said.

“C’mon, Miles. Let’s set the table,” Gwen said gently bumping her elbow on Miles’ ribs.

~~~~~~~

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[onyourhyuck]

GOLDEN HOUR. | L.MK

— Prologue: “Excuse me waiter?”

— Summary: You’re a waiter and Mark Lee the local biker and infamous bad boy loves the eggs your diner makes, but now he wants a taste of you.

— Genre: Smut, smut smut. Minors DNI. Badboy biker!marklee. Waiter!y/n. Lots of degrading terms as well as praising (we lot a degradation + praise moment) Public sex. Literally they do it on his freaking BIKE. Hairpulling. Teasing. Y/n is a big fucking tease. Playful banter. Enemies to ???. Y/n is made to humble Mark Lee. Mark calls Y/n Good girl. Y/n has a hand kink. Mentions of rings/jewellery. Mark is a massive ass guy here. Groping. Spitting on her ass. Ass play. Male receiving head. Mark literally grabs y/n’s face and made her to submission.

— Notes: Mark’s song Golden Hour inspired me by this…. I will write an apology for this filth you’re about to witness.

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You are a hard working woman, you love your work. You believe nothing comes easy in life so it’s useful to have hard shell around you to protect you from all sorts of evil this world has to offer. You don’t have the patience or the time to be wasting on useless things that do not serve you, your mind has always been set on this certain job you’ve been working on for a year nearly. You ended up loving it so much.

At first you weren’t sure if this job was the path you wanted to take but now you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You couldn’t careless if this job wasn’t going to pay you more than you needed in the next following years because as long as you are happy enjoying it; you thought screw it. This job may seem like a temporary waste but to you it was a long term source of your happiness and so many memories.

You’ve met good customers, some customers weren’t just as pleasant but nonetheless everyone you meet in this diner was a blessing in disguise.

Your coworkers were as equally happy to have you join them and light up this diner making it your own home. They wouldn’t change it for the world, you formed bonds no one could ever replace in your heart. To the point your boss was kind enough to promote you to head waitress diner and have made arrangements to have your own personal keys to the diner. So everytime you have yourself a night shift you can close down anytime you are done.

Your colleagues were glad to have you around the diner because without you many of them wouldn’t be able to get out there. Once a coworker you know couldn’t make it to the shift because of their blind date, you without any consideration stepped up and said you will take it. No matter how busy you are the diner comes first to you.

On this day you were opening the diner letting the customers in view come inside. It wasn’t busy and it was rather quiet in the morning. You couldn’t really tell what it was you’re feeling when it’s just you in the diner. No one else arrived and you were the first one.

You brush the broom on the floor sweeping the marble flooring the large diner owns, you hum a longing melody to yourself quietly as the empty diner leaves you waiting for anyone to come in, anticipating your colleagues and more. But the moment the front bell rang on the door making you swing your back straight to look at the front a gang of bikers pull up at the front entrance with their roaring lioness engines.

Wearing black and leather made up of straight skinned people, bandanas on the hairline or the beads — some wearing boots so heavy it made your own body shudder by the weight they are pulling on the feet itself. Streak of blonde hair entering the restaurant, wearing a brown leather jacket, a loose cast white shirt, the hair ruffled up and styled so lavishly it made him reek of trouble. You could smell it from miles away and it certainly wasn’t a pleasant fried egg smell it was a rotten roast of trouble smoking behind the young man.

It’s as if everything in the diner went dark and more silence came out than before even though it was only you in that diner. Somehow his company made you even more stunned. You don’t remember seeing him round here often enough because you remember everyone of your customers. You try to at least, and you’re more than sure that this man who strut in to your diner you’d remember a face like his.

Putting the broomstick on the wall you wipe your hands on the diner apron you have wore everyday your shift starts. Walking over to the table where that young blonde man with his obvious dyed hair and piercing cold eyes sat. Holding the menu in his hands you reopen you small notepad and take out an ink black pen.

You smile out. “Hello sir what will you be having today?” You say as if you weren’t saying this to everyone in your shift.

The young man hums out looking at you. “I have not decided just yet.” He was rather picky on which egg he wants today. You see, Mark loves his eggs a certain way. They have to be perfect and matching to the needs and cravings he has for a certain period of time. Unlike in your sight.

You tap your feet on the ground slightly staring him down after twenty minutes standing there. Mark kept his fingers gracing them on the menu at each egg point still not able to pick a damn meal. You slit your teeth together.

His fingers raided with diamond rings on them blink to the reflection of the light coming out the diner window could blind your almond doeish eyes. The way his hands were taking their dear sweet time reading every word, you couldn’t help but observe the size of his fingers and the beautiful flashy rings; you hated how your thoughts got unholy the moment his eyes saw your intense gaze at his fingers but he didn’t mention it. You wait at the counter staring him down into disbelief.

‘God I hope he didn’t see me staring at his hands.’ You wanted to mentally pray he didn’t. You told yourself to pretend like nothing has happened.

You’re back to being filled with annoyance to see more minutes passing by and the customer up front not choosing yet.

You love this job, okay, you really do. But you hate indecisive customers the fucking most.

‘Just pick something everything is eggs. What’s so hard about picking an egg.’ You wanted to scream to him, scream and tell him to get on with it. Eggs are eggs. They’re not much different to taste until you pick the seasonings.

“Are you here to eat or are you here to piss around causing trouble here?” You seethe gently trying to come out as passive aggressive. You don’t want to be rude but this boy was really tearing your patience apart from you. I mean, look at Mark. The young man came out lavish dressed just to look down at the diner menu and not pick a single thing over the next thirty minutes.

Mark flaunts at you with a wide smirk. “I dunno that depends on your answer.”

Your eyebrows rose up confused together, arching down like an innocent aisle. He couldn’t lie but he loved the way your reactions were so easy to read, he could tell he was annoying you and that’s exactly what he wanted to do. You cross your arms questioning that he might of came here with a higher purpose than to just eat eggs at your diner.

“What are you on about?” You ask out loud.

“What’s your name sweet lips?” Mark’s words echo right at you like a radioactive bomb flaming your skin open melting it like it were pure wax. You stare impatiently, clenching your jaw together. “It’s Y/n.”

Until you calm down your nerves you loosen up and reply unbothered, or you pretend to be. You won’t give him the attention. It’s clear he was flirting his way into your head and you can’t get away from it without putting on a professional fake smile. “Call me when you’re ready to eat.” You turn around walking away to clean more of the diner.

Mark’s eyes land on your back and down to your ass in that uniform the diner made all the coworkers dress in. He slants in the chair whistling as his eyes land on your legs, the thighs that touch each other, he loves seeing the way your thighs were both thick and soft looking. It reminds him of bedsheets in a way with how soft looking and clean they look. And your ass, don’t forget the way he could see it peeking out of that skirt. It was hard not to check you out. Actually it would be rude not to check you out, you look amazing. Your face card never declined in fact Mark saw you round the diner before but he never came to eat at this place he only saw you from afar. But everytime his biker gang and him rode in the street outside the diner, the boys mention you.

They speak often about you. It made him curious why they are talking so much about a young girl who’s just a simple diner girl, but now it all makes sense why they are talking. Why they’re discussing you of all people.

You were strong headed, professional, you were clearly smart enough not to fall for his lousy flirting skills he has to work on. But not only that it’s the way you were physically looking like straight out of a movie. Your body was indescribable. The way clothes made Mark frustrated on you, he never hated clothes so much before until now.

He shouldn’t be thinking these things but he was and unfortunately it was all your fault because you saw him checking you out in the corner of your eye, you knew and you saw it, it just left you smirking behind that innocent professional mask face you have on. In reality you were equally peeking interest at Mark when you saw a glimpse of his eyes stare at your ass.

But you didn’t want to show it. Of course you did not this is your workplace. You wouldn’t want someone as arrogant as Mark Lee to have the thing he wants so easily.

For once Mark looks like he actually wants something that is not eggs. He wants you.

“Excuse me waiter?”

Midway your work duties you hear the young man calling you over and you finally reach him with your impatient gaze. He loved seeing you worked up hearing him call you and somehow it made him want to sing to you. He looks up pushing the menu down. “Sunny side up.” Mark quotes proudly.

“Make the yolk in the middle right. I like it half cooked.”

‘God just make it yourself then.’ You wanted to say to him. Usually you’d be happy with suggestions, but not when a guy like Mark trouts in like he owns the freaking place.

You wanted to roll your eyes and tell him ‘Well now that wasn’t so hard was it to choose off the menu?’ But you hold your tongue tight and write it down. You gaze up at him.

“Do you want any drink with that? Toast?” You trail and Mark smirks leaning forward. “Is your number perhaps on those lists to serve?”

Your heart might escape your chest if he keeps on pestering you with his flirtatious tactics, you aren’t sure what you can and cannot handle but this beautiful man was a creature you couldn’t tame. Oh no, he was a wild one.

Your lips fell in a thin line. Your feet move forward and lean down in a ninety degree angle to grab the menu off his table with a slam to your palm. Mark’s eyes land down to your eyes, then to your beautiful pink chapped lips with a soft lipgloss glowingly and then his infatuated eyes land on the cleavage of your uniform.

His stare was so hungry. But something tells you it wasn’t for the eggs.

“One more flirtation and i will personally charge you more on your meal.” You threat.

He smiles, delusion all the way. “Was that a threat or a dare?” He couldn’t take you anymore seriously, but the way you push him back. He somehow knew you wanted him too.

You walk away scoffing. “Fuck around and find out. The more money for me.” You shrug going to the counter to prepare the food.

The sizzling from where you stand handling the heat was an impressive sight to say the least, Mark couldn’t make eggs, but he loves eating them. Despite not being able to make them it’s okay, because he never goes hungry thanks you and your diner. It was cheap and affordable for a high quality egg food you could munch on any time of the day and week. Somehow he never gets tired of it.

But what he was curious about was you. When you prepared the egg he saw you walk with his plate putting it on the table. But as you walk away and he starts to dig into the food, something underneath the plate moved and he flipped it open lifting it up. As the plate was lifting in the air a small white paper note curled up was found.

The plate was on the side and Mark slowly reveals it curiously wondering what was this, but as he did all the things he could’ve imagined were incorrect. Your handwriting struck him and it gave him a lingering hope.

The paper said your number, underneath a little message making Mark want to laugh.

‘You’re paying extra five on your order for my number :)’

He turns to look at you in front of the cashier station but you were already staring at him looking so smug. Your smile increased widely and his did too. ‘So you were interested, you just didn’t want me to know. God, you’re interesting.’ Mark practically vows. You’re unpredictable but you were something he wants to know.

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The afternoon hits you and your coworkers trade the shifts. Your work has just ended but the moment it did one of your colleagues asked to to take her night shift.

You should have said no but you did not and instead you stayed behind watching everyone leave. Your boss told you to close up and you nodded bidding goodbye to them.

Now you’re alone and it’s getting darker outside. In fact it’s already quite pitch black and the stars are coming out alive and well.

You turn to the clock seeing the customer timings going by and closing so you walk to the door to turn the customer open board around to ‘closing hours now’ but the moment you did a hand on the door makes you jump.

He saw you scream holding your mouth but the moment realistically seeing Mark outside asking you to open the door made you feel slightly uneasy but you were glad to see the boy at the same time.

‘Geez he didn’t have to appear in like that.’ You swore he’s the death of you.

You felt embarrassed for becoming so jumpy. You open the door and Mark walks in. “Did i scare you out there?” Mark chuckles and you look away murmuring.

“I thought you were someone trying to break in.” You roll your eyes. “You never know what can happen in these areas.”

Mark follows you from behind as you welcome him into the empty diner leaving only you two. “Ay you won’t have to worry about that Y/n my darling, no one will break in with me here.”

Mark couldn’t help but check down your ass again as you turn around walking from the door. His playful voice carries in the distance of the diner like a tracking star. “Did anyone tell you that the diner uniform is hot on you?”

“You make me barf, Lee.” You scowl.

“You make me wanna do bad things Y/n.” He copies you.

‘He’s so childish.’ You state in disbelief.

“Do you always come in to bother me when no one else is around?” You sigh putting the cloth away on the counter and his torso leans on the cashier counter. He saw you behind leaning down with a righteous smirk.

“You haven’t kicked me out yet I must be doing something right here.” Mark really knows how to trick your buttons.

You clench your hands huffing. “The only thing you make me wanna do is wish i haven’t seen you tonight.”

Mark whistles. “God you’re so mean.”

You glare. “If you think I’m mean wait until you hear my thoughts.” You sent through your teeth at Mark and he smirks, no matter how much arguments you guys go through they tend to always end on a different note with him smiling and you becoming grumpy.

The conversation ended only to begin when the younger boy was busy watching you do your night shift duties. You were almost glad he was here in a way, it does her creepy at night when you’re the only worker here and only one person is closing down. It can get lonely and way too quiet for your liking. Mark is the perfect guy to keep around if you need a person who doesn’t know how to shut up.

He playfully adds. “I wanted to see you because i was nearby.”

You couldn’t believe him sometimes, but a small part of you wishes it was the truth coming out his mouth. Somehow this boy you only met this morning annoyed you, but he was damnly devilishly handsome no doubt attractive and he somehow got your number too.

You look down breaking away your hold eye contact, clearing your throat as you felt a sudden butterfly coming up your lips all the way from your stomach. “Don’t lie. You came here to annoy me isn’t that right. The Mark Lee i know only does it in for himself.”

He tilts his head grabbing a hold of your hand. “Well why don’t you come and get to know the real Mark Lee, Y/n?”

You twist your head at your hands touching it made your skin crawl eloquently as so calmly like the sea. Your eyes slowly began to walk towards his face. When mark saw your attention on him again, he spoke, even though your silence was deeply inside finishing him he wanted to try.

“What’s the real Mark Lee like?”

“I think you and the real Mark Lee, would get along quite well.”

Mark’s eyes look so pure in that moment you felt your heart pull on the heartstrings and you happen to find yourself choosing to be and go.

To try to persuade you to come with him. It made you think that maybe it’s not a bad idea to get to know Mark.

“How about we go see the Golden Hour together after your night shift ends?” Mark asked you,

And to his luck you were pretty convinced. Mark’s hands were attaching to yours, like a lock to a key. It felt right being held in his hands.

“Okay, take me with you.”

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On this night the natural black hugs the stars as a diner closes ending its peace and heading to sleep but only leaving to souls to find each other awake. You couldn’t help but dangle the keys to the diner, closing the door, making sure everything was perfect before you leave with Mark. The boy was patiently waiting for you in the front of the motor bicycle; his bike was an all black with two black helmets on the side in his two palms. He was watching you in that cute little diner uniform with heart eyes but you didn’t notice. You were too busy.

When you were satisfied you turn around and saw Mark smiling you down. You raise your eyebrows suspiciously, blurting out.

“What?” Your breathe was let out, approaching the bike now. Your eyes widen when the size of it was revealed and you can’t believe you’re going to be riding this now.

Mark turns around humming. “Oh nothing. This is yours.” He puts down his helmet and holding yours going towards you. You were stunned for a minute when two pair of hands put on the helmet for you on your head.

It felt like kindness has infected his pure heart with the love that you weren’t aware of yet. Mark freaking Lee was putting the helmet, strapping it down on your head without asking him to. At this point you weren’t sure what to say but his eyes saw your throat clench in surprise and your eyes widen a little on the front. He was up close with your heads nearing each other like cannon rounds because he wanted to strap the ends under the chin.

You murmur. “I could’ve done it myself you know…” mark looks up at you directly. “I know, I just wanted to do it for you.” He smiled and you saw him pull away like it was nothing.

He was the ace at everything. Mark lee had everything he could ever want but what he didn’t want before changed the minute he’s met you and now you’re everything he wants, needs and could possibly ask for for. You were someone he could speak to all day and feel as if you weren’t judging him you were listening instead on repeat. You don’t even have to talk because he could do the talking; instead you Will be listening to him with those beautiful robes your eyes provide and he will be happy. He wishes to see you smile again, and he’s going through changes he never expected from your presence. Such as helping you put the helmet on.

You approach the bike getting on. The helmet he has on covers most of his face but his voice was still the sameness kindness that attacks your hard solid heart you guard your heart with.

Mark looks down at his waist where he needed to see your hands and your hands were clinging on the leather jacket. Your hands were tempted to hold him there but your thoughts intervened making you pause and in panic you couldn’t bring yourself to hold him there.

“Hold me tight Y/n.” He says.

You were shy. “W…where? I am holding you tight.”

He chuckles a little bit wasn’t expecting it that your fingertips touching was considered ‘holding tight’ but nonetheless he pulled your wrists from behind suddenly and making you lean your chest on his back enough so your arms were wrapped on his waist like two red ribbons making a single knot together.

“No wrap it like this Y/n. Okay?” He softly spoke out and you couldn’t even comprehend the words were made with intention to have you safe.

You wondered if it just you or if it’s many people who see this side of him where Mark doesn’t have to keep an image around like a toy with a job constantly. Where he could just be Mark Lee. You wonder thinking perhaps not, because a guy like Mark Lee was trying to keep up to his reputation but around you it was getting no where near to impossible.

Your chin rests on his shoulders and the engine roars like a wild animal awakening. It terrified you but normally you would never get on this thing in your life, but now you’re not normal. You’re hanging out with Mark the guy who walked into your diner in the morning, made you annoyed but you found relatively attractive, ended up successfully getting your number and on a good note he waited for your night shift to take you somewhere else.

The man rumbled in the iron horse between his legs, and the miles sped away beneath its black wheels. He grinned despite himself through the shiny all jet black helmet as the wind whipped about it, and gave an unconscious squeeze to the lever on the great y-shaped rudder, coaxing yet more power from the magnificent machine. Ahead, in the distance, she spied the spires of the road, leaving the diner. Give him nothing but a straight up motorbike ride down the road right down to the sea, with a beautiful girl like you on it holding him tight because he could sense how terrifying it must be until the sight of the ocean hits your eyes you start to see the beauty of riding a rising bike everywhere, and he would ask for nothing more in this life or the next.

You see it was scary at first. Doing something completely new but you found yourself falling in love with how the nightfall beach looks like as the young man driving the bike slowly because he wanted to have you see it for longer. Or the beautiful breeze hitting your legs exposed and vast bits of your neck because your long hair was exposed to the wind flowing it back like a flag of a nation you’d be proud of. You felt surreal and it started to show that perhaps the driver riding you wasn’t a bad person but made up by your poor misjudgement instead. Your pride rather and he was simply an okay guy — actually not even an okay guy. He was just a straight up sweet guy underneath those needless reputation and hard tough persona. It made you conflicted at first before but now you’re convinced. That you might believe Mark’s got a side you haven’t met yet.

But that’s the story to living your life. You have to explore a new thing to be able to know if you like it or not and I guess it applies to Mark and You. You squeeze your arms round his waist and suddenly rest your head on his back as you listen to the quiet earth where everyone was asleep but you and Mark — listening to the wind that the wind blows from the front and you swore you could sleep to this tranquil silence and feeling.

He seethes out a smile feeling the arms tighten and he was happening to feeling a sense of proudness in him as he could make you enjoy this. From a severe anxious young waitress to a young woman enjoying the experience he couldn’t of been more happier than this. Than live in the moment with you.

He never lets anyone ride the motorcycle with him and you were the first woman and person itself to be able to go on. Even though he denies everyone he lets and offered you to go on. Even the previous woman he shown slight attention to in the past never had the chance because he flat out rejected the idea of anyone being on this thing. It was a precious item he holds dear to his heart and something within him accepted you to get on.

Treading to the secret location you’ve been waiting to know about you pull up to a mountain cliff sight area where the bike stops on the shoreline of the mountain. Not off the edge but close enough leaving you and Mark on the bike sitting at around five am. Mark lee was one of a kind man and when you tell yourself the view didn’t leave you gaping it left you gasping instead.

It was beyond anything you’ve ever seen. It was a whole different view of the city and you could see everything all at once. The glimpse of the beach was there in sight, the diner was somewhere around there, you could see the apartment blocks nearby which is where you live too. You were so far but everything you love dear to your heart was close in your eyes. All at once too. Mark truly knew this place would be the perfect fit for your bonding experience, or rather he would claim it as a date doing nothing but chatting with you.

Your helmets were off and he saw your moving gaze lovingly watching the beautiful scene. He smiles your arms never left his waist until you unlock them to get up and takes a closer look.

“Mark… when did you find this place. It’s beautiful. It’s anything I’ve ever wanted to see before.” Your voice itself was hyperbolic and hypnotising. You look thrilled and it was benevolently beautiful loudly.

He follows you standing on the edge of his bike and wrapping the helmets on the sides of the wheel where they hang. “Once I was driving one night and I happen to see this. I often come here when i can’t sleep so i go for a ride and come here.”

You turn around with crystal like eyes, they looked like pure gemstones with how shiny they are and even in the pure darkness they glow.

“Thank you. It’s very sweet of you to share this view with me.” You sigh out and let your arms roam the free air twirling around.

Mark grins out. “Any time. You’re the first person ever I’ve shown this too. So keep this a secret between us.” He told you. “I’d like it to be only you who knows of this place with me.”

The moment he said this your cheeks grew a little red and turning round to meet eyes with his personally grew stronger. There was a define element of possession here and you couldn’t help but let out a strain laugh hearing him.

You come forward slowly. “How come you’re so… nice to me? I mean how can i ever repay you for this. We only just met but you’re quite an enigma. You keep surprising me with your new sides.” Your voice trails softly easing your thoughts when his hands wrapped round your waist pulling you closer and seemingly you didn’t back or make any complaint you just stayed and following his strong hands where they push you in on his body closing your large gap that was punishing him by making you so far away.

His deep voice I’ve craved to answer me had a way of igniting my internal engine, just like he would light up a motorbike as if it knew I wanted to ride with him before I had a chance to process. “I don’t know I guess i… like you enough to say that I’d be raw and real with you.” He sounds husky and hoarse looking down with a dark half eye lid gaze. You couldn’t help but feel that maybe the tension between you was a sign call for help.

“How many have you been raw and real with like this?”

“None.” He quickly said. “Just you.” He told you softly It was the kind of deep voice that is so very easy to fall in love with, it was like a perfect harmony between cooking you have.

“You’re someone who’s… a first to my everything. My bike is off limits for everyone except me but here we are. You were sitting on my bike so nicely with that…” your ass was squeezed surprisingly you by that gentle yet hidden pleasing laying grope on your back.

Your face grew red but he knew that. It’s exactly why he did it and smirking down at you, you felt yourself feeling small and cautiously exposed but in a way you found butterflies in it.

He needed you just as bad and now you’re here needing him. He was real with you and that’s what made you shudder when you feel your heart escape your chest so much. All because of him and everything he does was a terror of attractiveness. He was breathing and you found his breathe even more beautiful. He was just there standing and breathing looking you up and down with an intense stare.

And you’re here trying to figure out what and how was this man created into existence. He felt like something you knew for years and years in your head and at the same time something you’ve never known in your life for years and years until now.

“Are you always this…” you stop talking and stare down at his lips. “Never mind… kiss me please… I’m going insane.” You held your teeth together for a minute until he was glad to hear you consent because God knew, he couldn’t stop you from kissing once he began tasting your lips.

It was a very easy decision to make when Mark saw the offer you made him, your lips crash on top of each other like a gentle road on a wheel. It was a smooth transition. It felt heavenly however. You couldn’t compare any feeling of Mark’s lips the way they made you feel so complete in many ways, it was a sensual passionate makeout between them leaving the air round them to be sucked in faster. Your breathes were doing magic together, compiling as one source keeping your fast bodies going somewhere.

The makeout was a speedy and intense success knowing your chest was thumping probably so freaking hard but you weren’t focusing on that. You were focusing on the way his tongue intrudes in your territory so freely and with ease across your tongue wrapping round it keeping you guessing what’s happening next. Your bodies swung around switching positions with Mark no longer slanting on his bike and you now pressed against the machine. Your back resting on the bike leaving you climbing on it where your hands were wrapping up and down his clothes chest and the neckline.

Your hair was pushed back because his hands were crawling down your legs caressing them and softly rubbing the softness of your thighs in that skirt that’s been driving him mad the entire day.

He couldn’t wait to just strip it fucking off your body you had no idea how much he’s been imagining it to the point his imagination couldn’t save him from holding back anymore. You were equally eager it seems though when your tips pinch the belt on his jeans he found himself growing exciting in the shares of your kiss.

His voice pulls you away and your mouth crawls to his jawline and on the sides, you lick down his Adam’s apple. “A bit impatient are we? You’re looking at me with so much impatience.” He felt so many shivers with your teeth grazing his skin so much it drove him right off the edge.

You bring your swollen red lips apart. He swore he saw fire in those awoken eyes of yours. You pull him on the bike and you swap positions once more where you suddenly go on your knees pulling down the trousers.

“You can’t blame me being impatient when you’re looking at me like that…” your words slant themselves and he chuckles deeply hearing this. When his pants fell down your eyes gawk at the sight of his rock hard member in the front your hands couldn’t hold back, you touch it instantly and he vows down at you going. “I’ve been here impatient a little longer than you darling. Why don’t you be a good girl and help me out and i promise — you will get a good reward.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Your saliva spits down on his erected cock and he could just twitch by the warmth of your shared saliva from your intense makeout a minute ago. His head swung back when you first take him in very softly by doing small kitten licks and eventually engulf him into a welcoming home of your inner mouth where your scorching tongue felt like million pieces burning. Somehow that burn became something enticing and thrilling though because even though it was so intense it became more intense that you get addicted. And that’s exactly what Mark went through.

Your mouth was an extraordinary thing and It certainly wasn’t the only thing it was good at. He watches you with a dark lingering gaze that could be darker than the night sky above you both. You fell in love with how he watches you, intensely with his eye locks on you sucking him in so deeply. Making sure every length and part of him was in your mouth. Your deep throating gave him enough time to clench the bike a few times and once even made him groan out a little louder than a few hisses there and then.

“That’s my girl. You’re doing such a good job.” His hands grazed your hair sweeping it up and gently holding it into a ponytail in his hands between the diamond rings that blight you. You felt your stomach turn hearing this and pull apart your lips to make a pop and only to go and suck him in again which leaves him expediting a whole new feeling in the world. You were throating him so hard, it could bruise your mouth but you could not care.

You wanted it to leave a mark. You wanted this to remind you of this experience that you’re doing in the wide open slot.

Mark grunts. “Shitshitshit, careful. I don’t want to cum just yet.” He said pulling your head apart from his cock that was twitching and begging to have a release of its own but Mark had other plans for you and him. As your head was thrown back with a rug to your hair in that ponytail he scraped the remaining drool around your mouth with his thumb.

You swore you could’ve melted on your knees if you weren’t on them already because it was unbelievably sexy watching a man like Mark touch your swollen and reddish lips all from sucking him near to dry and kissing him like it was the end of the world looking you down and gently wiping it clean, with his thumb. You could lose your mind. This man was effortlessly attractive. He was like a whole package to uncover.

Suddenly a pair of fingers have been crossed in your mouth and you didn’t fight back at it as Mark leers down at you. “Suck on them darling.” And you did just as he told you to sucking his fingers until he pulled it away from your lips coating them with your thick and warm saliva.

Your positions switch again this time you’re on the bike again forced to be seated on it with your legs wide open and spread ready for Mark who was leaving you impatient. The skirt was lifted up leaving your white panties exposed and he looks up at you, smirking. You could feel a slight warmth on your face growing again and not only that, once his fingers press on your clit through the panties lining all he could see was a soaking mess.

He was amazed, by this huge effort he has on you. “Y/n I wasn’t aware you’d be this wet i haven’t even touched you yet. ” He leans closer and you turn away avoiding his gaze as you stutter out. “I- can we…get to the fun part.” You mention and he lets out a smile leering it back at you. “Oh trust me love it’s coming.”

You weren’t a fan of his teasing but you couldn’t help but feel mesmerised when he slid down your panties to the side and an accidental touch on his metallic diamond rings makes you twist and turn your head back in a pleasuring awe. At first Mark thought it might’ve been his fingers but when he realised it was his rings he couldn’t smirk at the thought he had. The fingers coating by your saliva pushing deep in your waterfall of a cunt only to have the big diamond rings digging in too much. You choke out your words, but he wanted you to shout to the rest of your lungs till you couldn’t speak anymore tomorrow for your next shift.

Worst thing was that you’ve been imagining this all day since the morning you’ve met Mark. You were creating scenarios with his hands all along and which is why you’re so wet. It was sexual frustration but at the same time, you felt rewarded by this. Mark knew all along you wanted him just as much as he wanted you but of course you tried to hide it by being professional — now answer this where did all the professionalism go? He wanted to laugh but he wanted to see you lose yourself before he does.

Your eyes were obsessed by watching his hands go so deep into your hole that you wanted to see how much you will come. You were pressing at your deep end soon, you could sense a few strings in your stomach boiling for a release you were so close.

Mark mockingly adds. “This is what you wanted all along isn’t it? I saw the way you were checking my hands in the morning. You wanted them to do stuff like this to you.” He looks at your exposed cunt in the public domain with wind cushing at you and you weakly murmur your groans. “Maybe you wanted my fingers to do this?” His thumb pressed down on your clit moving it in circular motion. While his other fingers were occupied by your insides pulling it inside more and more.

The overstimulation did you great because the next minute Mark was welcoming a wave of gushing liquid running down your thighs and into his lap where you shockingly gasp out your high moans on your releasing resort. He was so proud of himself and of you for taking everything he gave you but that didn’t stop him from suddenly roughly slamming you down into the seat more and slinging his erected tip and length to your entrance, you weren’t given enough time but when he kissed you to lead you into him and to focus on to him and not your large orgasm; you couldn’t help but feel calmer and allow the burning stretch of his big girth cock entering you. Your body clench tightly but he massaged down your waist and hips when he feels the urge to your body to clutch.

“That’s right baby taking me so well. Now turn around and press your stomach flat on the bike.” You couldn’t help but turn around and you felt him go even more than before deep working you from head to toe making you squelch with how wet and lubricant everything you had. Mark was insane for just making you press hard on your back so your stomach was flatly on the metallic machine and leaving you on your arms supporting by your elbows.

He wants you to see the view as you’re getting your brains fucked out hopefully you’ll remember everything. He has no doubts you will because the minute the Golden Hour appears, your brain will be taking a photogenic picture in your memory engraved as you’re floating naked on his bike getting your shit wrecked by him. The first ram made you curse strings you weren’t expecting it to make you shake on the first try and go it’s as if he was exceedingly amazing to rock you back and forth in the middling position. Your body clenching underneath him letting your ass jiggle back and forth between the bodies. His weight was heavy on yours and he kept on ramming until he was satisfied with it.

The speed wasn’t slow at all. It was fast and hard. You weren’t sure what’s happening at one point you were lost in all the pleasure you lost your sense of time and presence as well as your self identity. You were going places with Mark Lee rucking against you so good his length tip touched the peek of your g spot making you come more than once, this man behind you fucking you made you come so many times it left you dripping out for everyone to see.

“If only you could take a look at you. You’re dripping on the grass and down my bike.” He roughly slits between his teeth, speaking in broken sentences.

You couldn’t help but grow embarrassed. But Mark loved it seeing you become so actively engaged in with him and his pleasure giving you whiplashes.

You’re in the public sector where people can come and go but since it’s this late you weren’t worrying but the thought of someone walking by at this time walking on you two made this everything ten times more arousing and thrilling for the both of you. You both enjoy being seen like this fucking like animals until you were stuffed and full of him and until you only can think about him, he won’t stop.

Mark bellows at you every time, he said all sorts of things but nothing crazier than him losing his mind to you. “I bet you want people to walk around us and see your dripping wet cunt getting stuffed with my fat cock. I bet you want them to see how much you’re soaking bending over my bike and getting slut out in the open shamelessly like this.”

His fingers tug on your hair lifting you up when the time has come suddenly swing your head upwards enough to leave you choking out your moans. “Now look up at this, beautiful. It’s the Golden Hour.” And your eyes widen seeing the magnificent skies.

The Golden Hour leads you like a tunnel into a whole new haven offering where the sunlight was waking up and so were the people around from the slumber. Your eyes welcome the Golden Hour, that iris of fire so pretty in its devotional image reminding you of the ocean waves but instead they were bright orange, mixing in with the beautiful ember red and the bright yellow equalling to the sun. It left you stunned for a minute and Mark saw your beautiful expression smiling at it. ‘It’s beautiful’ you thought.

He kissed your shoulders momentarily bringing you back and he thrusts deep within inside you again and again until your legs were physically turning into snapping bridges where no one could cross over again.

You cross out holding your mouth when voices in the distance has you questioning the whole presence you weren’t sure why people were waking up this early, but you’d effectively heard a man and a dog barking in the distance. Your moans were hidden into your mouth and Mark whispering chuckling at your attempt to hide them out.

But as much as you tried to hide and conceal your moans you could not thanks to Mark roughly punishing you with his cock growing deep in you. “Awh what’s this hiding your perfect noises you’re making? Darling let them see you so they know how perfect you are.” He gnaws at your brain leaving you helpless and you achingly whimper out.

He spanks your ass once more roughly and gropes it. He could never get tired of your ass for once more. “I’m going to come now.” His teeth clatter as he spoke out final words before grunting releasing bits of his come inside you but pulling out and covering your ass a little too. You ooze out and he couldn’t help but want to replay this image of you stuffed and oozing out him out of you was the hottest thing he could have witnessed.

You try to lift yourself up only to nearly fall backwards fixing your skirt but a figure behind you caught you and you make eye contact with him once more. Mark smirks down at you watching how your legs were shaking and he held your skirt get pulled down and your panties back up.

You couldn’t help but feel hopeless once more, murmuring. “I could’ve done it.” You say softly and he looks at you with eyes that resemble boba pearls.

“I know.” He leans down capturing your kiss softly, putting the belt around his trousers meanwhile he was lost on the feeling of you on his lips. “But I wanted to do it for you.”

“But i…”

He pulls away holding your face with his hands pulling you to face him when you were about to look away and disagree with him doing things for you. “No buts. How about we take a ride and see more of the Golden Hour and then…”

“And then?” Your eyes rose up waiting to hear an answer but Mark smirks shrugging. “And then you can stay over at my place and rest, how does that sound?”

You chuckle. “Okay sounds good to me, Mark.”

You feel yourself becoming part of him. This golden hour will forever hold a special place in your heart.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu! Please reblog and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out <3

[cheesecakethots]

Date Night

Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader

after being left alone by your date in a ballroom you weren’t even invited to, you make conversation with a strange man that has bindings over his forehead.

tw: murder, sexual tension, you make out with him which is a little bit cringe, romance is a little rushed but too bad, yan!chrollo, i wrote this a year ago and never posted it so excuse the shoddy writing

this is a soulmate au except chrollo is only one who can sense that you’re his soulmate so it isn’t really mentioned, maybe i’ll make his pov at some point.

“You appear to be as bored as I am.”

The lit cigarette in your hand almost topples into the darkness when you jump at hearing a voice behind you. You don’t turn, instead leaning back into your relaxed position against the balcony railing, facing out into the night sky.

You shrug, “Bored enough that I was considering throwing myself over.”

The stranger chuckles, and you swear the sound of it sends something straight to your belly.

“If you’re so bored, why not go home?”

Finally, you turn to look at him. You’re certain that if you were in a cartoon you’d have heart eyes at seeing the strangely handsome man with an odd bandage on his head.

“I mean, you can probably tell,” you say, gesturing towards your outfit, one that you put on tonight in preparation for a nightclub and not a ballroom, “that I’m someone’s plus one rather than an actual guest. That someone has gone off with another woman, leaving me here with a dead phone and no idea where I am. I have more pride than to go inside and ask those judgemental assholes to call me a taxi.” You look him up and down from the corner of your eye, taking note of his no doubt expensive suit. “No offence.”

“None taken. Does that mean that someone is looking for you?”

You sigh, frowning a little. “Probably not. My friends had basically left me alone at the club anyway. I don’t really enjoy going out to bars all that much, so when some guy in a nice suit offered me to be his date to some fancy ballroom party, I couldn’t pass it up. Now I wish I had just gotten a taxi home then and there.”

The man nods, seemingly in a bit of thought, before coming closer and planting himself next to you, also leaning against the railing. You can’t help but side eye how tight the suit is around the muscle of his arms.

“Your date and friends don’t sound like the best of company.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“May I ask for your name?”

You give him it, “And yours?”

He pauses for a moment, but not long enough for you to think too much on it.

“Chrollo… and, if you don’t mind, I have a proposal. It might help with your boredom.”

You nod, tilting your head a little in curiosity.

“Well, I came outside here to see if anyone wasn’t present in the ballroom. I have a plan set up so that I can thieve the antiques and artworks present in this building, as well as the jewellery being worn by the guests.” He hums, tilting his head a little at you. “You’re rather interesting. I wouldn’t be opposed to sharing some of the loot with you, provided you give some assistance.”

You stare at him with a blank expression for a little while. Then, your lip twitches and a loud laugh escapes you.

“Alright,” you breathe out, wiping away a stray tear, “deal. Make sure to leave that fancy pearl necklace the lady with the red hair has. I’m sure it’d suit me better.”

The man smiles, and for but a moment you take note of something other than amusement in the look, but it quickly goes.

“It’s a deal, then. When would you like to begin?”

“Hmm,” you hum, bottom lip jutting out and finger pressing to your chin jokingly. “Probably soon, it’ll be starting to get light in a few hours. Rich people melt in direct sunlight, y’know. Don’t want them taking the loot with them.”

Chrollo laughs, and it’s a gentle sound that has your heart beating faster.

“It’s a shame, though,” you murmur. “As a kid I always wanted to go to a big fancy ballroom in a big fancy dress and dance around with someone until my feet hurt. I doubt I’ll ever get the chance to be invited to one of these again.”

You sigh, eyes drifting from him back out to the scenery beyond the balcony. His own never stray from your face, a fact you don’t take notice of.

“I disagree.”

You raise an eyebrow, but say nothing more, and it prompts him to continue.

“You’re more interesting than all those inside put together. If I had been the one who had brought you here, I wouldn’t have left your side, and I would most definitely want to bring you with me again. Besides,” he says, voice shifting to a more teasing tone, “I’m sure once our little job is over, you would have enough money to come to these as you please.”

You giggle, blushing a little at the sweetness in his previous words, “Oh, with all the money I make after this job I’ll have my own ballroom to dance in. I’ll let you come visit it, if you’d like.”

The man grins, and god you almost swoon. “Oh? You’re sure you’d allow a man like me into your home, sweetheart?”

You’re considering letting him into your bed at this point.

“Hm, why would I not? I thought you were my partner in crime in all of this?”

“Well, I suppose you’re right in that,” he stands up straight, and a hand extends towards you. “How does a dance sound then, partner?”

“Sorry, partner. I’m not going back in there, at least not for a while.”

“I didn’t say anything about going back inside the ballroom.”

“Huh? Ou-Out here?”

“Why not?”

“As cliché as it sounds, I don’t really know how to dance all that well,” you admit rather awkwardly, and he laughs once more. You’re beginning to become addicted to the sound.

“You don’t have to worry, it’s only me out here. I can teach you the basics. I promise, it’s not hard, partner.”

You don’t say that you’d rather not embarrass yourself in front of the most attractive man you’ve ever met, instead hesitantly placing your hand in his own.

His skin is colder than you expect it to be, and when his other hand envelopes around you, gently holding onto your waist, you almost jolt. He leans in close to you, and the faint minty scent of his breath has your head feeling light.

“No need to be so rigid,” he murmurs quietly, “Just do as I do. I won’t laugh at you.”

How did you end up in this situation again?

He takes a slow step back, pulling you with him, and your foot accidentally treads on his own.

“Sorry!”

“It’s alright,” the man whispers, continuing to hold you as though you were made of the finest material.

A few moments pass of what you consider his graceful movements and your awkward shuffling.

“You are a natural at this, sweetheart.”

“No need to lie to me. Maybe next time we’ll bump into each other at the club and I’ll teach you how to move on the dance floor. Or, I would if I knew how. Maybe we can learn together… then again,” you eye him up and down, “you don’t seem the ‘club’ type, Chrollo.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Were you two always this close to each other? One wrong move and you might end up brushing lips. You’re not opposed to the idea.

“Oh, maybe not to others, but I’m good at reading people.” He pauses for a moment. “I would describe you as a book I just can’t seem to put down.”

“You can lay me down instead, if you’d like.”

He halts rather suddenly, and you register the words that just tumbled from your mouth with a gasp.

“S-Sorry! Shit, shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to say that-“

Chrollo’s hands are tightening around your flesh within a fraction of a second, and suddenly his lips are moulded against your own, your body being pushed back until it’s pressed against the brick wall behind you.

If you were more coherent, you would be wondering what happened to the sweet gentleman you had been conversing with only a few moments prior. Maybe you would wonder if he had been replaced by some wild animal, evident by the desperation in his kisses.

But you don’t care about all that, all you can think about is how hot the air has suddenly turned, how there’s a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach forming, and how good this feels.

Chrollo pulls back from you for a moment, and through half-lidded eyes you’re able to catch sight of your smudged lipstick around his face. You can’t help but giggle at that, prompting a slight smile from him. It doesn’t last very long, as soon he’s moving lower, face pressing into the crevice of your neck and hands combing over your waist.

“I can’t believe I’d meet you here,” You swear you hear him mumble, but you don’t really have time to think on it, not when his body presses even further against you, and his hands ghost over the backs of your thighs.

“Jump.”

“Hu-Huh?”

He doesn’t give you much time to think about it, as you’re swept of your feet, thighs encircled around his waist and allowing him to move impossibly closer.

Something hard presses to the spot between your legs, and he quickly drinks up the gasp of his name you give in response.

“Oh my!”

It takes you a few moments in your lustful haze to realise that it was not your own voice you heard. Chrollo doesn’t even glance to the side at the no doubt horrified guest who had stumbled upon the two of you, instead sighing tiredly into the skin of your throat.

The poor intruder doesn’t stick around long, retreating back into the ballroom to no doubt call someone to kick the two of you out. Chrollo slowly places your legs back on the floor so that you can stand, and you’re tempted to tear off your own skin you’re so embarrassed.

“… God.” An awkward laugh bubbles out of you, and soon you’re wheezing uncontrollably, doubling over and your head pressing to Chrollo’s chest.

“A shame,” he murmurs. “I was enjoying myself… and by the sounds you were making, so were you.”

You fear this moment will plague you forever and ever.

“Maybe I should throw myself off of the balcony, after all.”

“I wouldn’t allow you to. How am I supposed to get the job done without my partner in crime?”

You laugh, a hand moving to your face so you can cover the blush that’s only growing worse by the second. “… I like you, Chrollo. I know this is a little, um… forward and, well, fast… but I want to keep speaking to you past this night. I-If that’s not what you’re after, that’s alright too…”

You’re not sure you can bring yourself to meet his gaze, especially not after the lengthy pause that follows.

“I would like to speak to you past this night as well... and… I like you, too.”

Maybe this night wasn’t a total disaster, after all. Maybe this is the beginning of something new for you.

“Alright, well… I’m going to go inside, and get a drink before we’re kicked out, if you’d like to join me. Looks like our master plan has yet to come into fruition.”

His hand meets your hip again, “I wouldn’t be so sure on that, partner… Shall we?”

“Wait, let me…” you raise a hand and softly wipe at the lipstick staining his lips and jaw.

“Don’t make me kiss you again.”

“Nope. No more PDA. I’ve learnt my lesson.”

He opens the door for you, and you breathe in a big breath of air. This is going to suck, but at least this weirdly charming man is with you.

As the two of you step inside, your eyes immediately find the food and drinks table, missing the sight of two strange men, one short and one large, on the stage.

“Ah, it seems Feitan and Franklin are ready.”

“Hm?”

You’re not sure what comes first, the ear piercing scream on the other side of the ballroom or the sudden darkness that blankets the area.

Another scream, and you jolt backwards, reminding yourself of Chrollo, who is still holding onto you, his grip only tightening and his front pressing to your back.

“Stay close to me. This’ll be over soon.”

“Wh-What?! Chrollo, I don’t-“

You yelp when something falls down beside you, the thud managing to be heard over the chorus of screams.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Someone cries out near you, “Call the-“

Something wet sprays across your neck and face, and another thud follows.

Is this real? Are you dreaming?

A flurry of gunshots are accompanied by brief flashes of light that illuminate the people fighting to get to the doors in front of you, treading and falling over each other in a scramble to escape.

Red. Red. Red. Every flash has you shaking at the sight of more and more blood, and less and less movement. The silence you soon hear is more deafening than anything else before it.

Someone groans, and a popping sound ensues. It is silent once more.

Maybe this is some prank, some elaborate joke set up by a morally bankrupt TV show, you just happen to be the poor sucker who-

Something cold wraps around your neck, and you taste vomit in the base of your throat.

“You were right. It does suit you better.”

[city-of-ladies]

"Here’s what we know about Julia Felix: she lived in Pompeii from at least 62 CE. She was possibly illegitimate but was definitely not a member of the social and cultural elite. She worked for a living setting up and running a very interesting business and, by 79 CE, she had planned to shift her focus from managing a business to owning property. We know all these things because twentieth-century excavations at her business uncovered an advert, carved in stone and attached to the external wall of her huge building. It reads:

"To rent for the period of five years from the thirteenth day of next August to the thirteenth day of the sixth August, the Venus Bath fitted for the nogentium, shops with living quarters over the shops, apartments on the second floor located in the building of Julia Felix, daughter of Spurius. At the end of five years, the agreement is terminated."

This find illuminated the building it was attached to, bringing what otherwise looked like a very large anonymous domestic house into dazzling focus. With this description of the purpose of each room written by the owner herself, archaeologists and historians could see the site through a whole new lens and they realised that they had discovered a Roman entertainment space for the working middle classes. It is, so far, a completely unique find and it is magnificent. It offers us, as modern viewers, two amazing things: a little glimpse into the lives of the commercial classes of the Roman Empire who are so often completely and utterly invisible, and a brutal reminder that so much of what we ‘know’ about Roman women in the Roman world comes from rules concerning only the most elite.

We’ll do that second part first, because it’s the least fun. Roman written and legal sources are pretty universal in their agreement that although women could own property, they could not control it; they had no legal rights, could not make contracts and were to be treated as minors by the legal system for their entire lives. In order to buy or sell property women required a male guardian to oversee and sign off on any transactions. This is a basic truism of women in the Roman Empire, repeated ad nauseum by sources both ancient and modern including me, and it is undermined by Julia Felix’s rental notice. 

The rental ad makes it pretty clear that Julia Felix is the owner-operator of a business complex including public baths, shops and apartments (there’s more too, as we’ll see), and she doesn’t seem to require anyone else to help her rent it out. She names her father – sort of; ‘Spurius’ might just mean that she is illegitimate – but this is effectively a surname, a personal identifier to differentiate her from other Julia Felixes in the area. It doesn’t mean her father was involved. Furthermore, the use of her father’s name as an identifier suggests that Julia didn’t have a husband and was either unmarried or widowed in 79 CE. The strong implication of her advert is that Julia Felix was an independent lady, a honey making money and a momma profiting dollars who could truthfully throw her hands up to Destiny’s Child.

We will never know if Julia escaped the flames and choking ash of 79 CE, fleeing as it swallowed her business and her home, but one discovery, made on 28 January 1952, suggests that she didn’t. The archaeologists, led by Amedeo Maiuri, uncovered on that day the skeleton of a woman who had fallen while running across the garden during the disaster. It’s clear this fallen woman was well off, because she was wearing a lot of gold jewellery. She carried four gold half-hoop earrings and wore four gold rings. Two of these rings were particularly expensive; both contained a red carnelian gem, one carved with a figure of Mercury, the other with an eagle. Around her neck she wore a necklace of gold filigree, dotted with ten pearls and hung with a green pendant. Someone stole both the necklace and earrings from the Pompeii Antiquarium in 1975 and no one, somehow, had ever bothered to photograph them so all we have are descriptions but the rings that survive are fine and expensive. The woman who wore them – was wearing them when she died – had real money to buy these objects and the woman who wore them did'nt leave Pompei in time.

 Moreover, when she was found it was clear that at the moment of her death she was heading not towards the street or towards safety, but towards the shrine to Isis in the garden where all the most valuable possessions were kept. The valuable possessions that Julia Felix grafted for and maybe couldn’t bear to leave behind. There’s no way to tell whether this skeleton is Julia Felix, whether these bones once stood and looked at the plots of land Julia bought and made plans, or whether they belong to a looter or a chancer or someone just caught out. But it’s nice to pretend that Julia Felix, who shaped the city’s roads around her dream and offered respite and luxury to workers and made a tonne of money doing it, died and was buried with the place that still bears her name."

A Rome of One's Own: The Forgotten Women of the Roman Empire, Emma Southon

[g1rld1ary]

red carpets - actor!sirius black x actress!reader

wc: 942

cw: none! you catch sight of sirius on the red carpet

tag: @lovemenotts

The sheer amount of noise surrounding you was making you light-headed. Yet, you plastered on a smile, smoothed out your silky skirt and stepped onto the red carpet. Your smile didn’t budge as you inched down the carpet, performing for the hungry cameras and the sometimes scary men behind them. You grit your teeth as they yell commands, changing pose as they desire, waiting to get to the interview portion of the red carpet. At least the journalists had to be polite to you.

A woman from some gossip rag you purposefully avoid reading calls you over and you consciously boost your smile again, turning up the energy to 100. She’s nice, at least, and a good conversationalist. Too many interviewers left you to pick up their slack and carry the conversation as if it weren’t their job to be digging for the information they want.

“How does it feel to be nominated for an Emmy in your first foray into television?” She asks and you beam.

“It’s such an honour, really. I mean, this show is such a labour of love, Lily put her heart and soul into the writing, so I’m just so grateful I got to be the one to bring it to life. It’s so amazing that we’re both being nominated tonight,” You answer with a practised grace, giving a glance to the camera behind the interviewer.

The conversation continues and you find yourself enjoying it more than you anticipated. The interviewer connects with you well and matches your excited energy at being around celebrities. You figure it’s about time you move on, but give her one more question as a secret reward for her not being as invasive as the others usually are. She asks about your friendship with Lily and creating a project with someone you’d known forever and you grin again.

You start your answer, gushing over Lily’s talent for screenwriting and your friendship of ten years. You turn to look for her, meaning to gesture when your eyes get caught on something. Someone.

“Who is that?” You ask the interviewer, pointing out the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen in your life. Long dark hair, dressed in all black with silver jewellery glinting in the flash of cameras, you basically fall in love at first sight.

“That’s Sirius Black,” The interviewer answers with a laugh.

“God, what is he from?” He’s honestly supernaturally good-looking, you’re not convinced he’s real.

“He co-created and stars in The Marauders series, you haven’t seen it yet?”

“No, I’ve been meaning to but I haven’t had the time — Lils says it really has to be appreciated so I’m waiting to dedicate significant time to it. He did not look like that on the poster.” The series is set in high school and so all the actors look different, younger, Sirius no exception. The dark eyeliner around his grey eyes creates a magnetic contrast that makes him look much more mature than his character.

“Is it safe to say you’ll be finding him at the after-party?” The interviewer asks cheekily. The situation comes back to you in an instant; you’re on camera and who knows how many people are seeing you thirst over another actor in real-time.

“God no,” You laugh, frantically trying to brush over the incident, “I don’t chase after boys. He’d have to work for my attention.” You wink in an attempt to deliver the joke and it goes over smoothly enough, the interviewer graciously letting it go and thanking you for your time. You thank her profusely.

You chance another glance at Sirius as you move on, all grace and long limbs as he effortlessly poses for photos and messes around with his co-stars, spirit not yet beaten out of him by Hollywood. You envy the way his cast talk all the way through the process, clearly extremely fond of each other. You would go to the ends of the earth for Lily, your best friend and writer of the show you star in, but your male lead couldn’t be more opposite. Severus Snape was someone you would never get along with, and your interviews consisted of forced smiles and camaraderie on your side and zero effort from him. You would love a cast like The Marauders, not that you would dare complain to Lily, who had given you so much.

You don’t end up meeting Sirius during the awards or the afterparty, unfortunately, though you do see him once more across the room and feel the flutter of intrigue in your stomach. The next awards ceremony you had a goal, and a series to watch in the meantime.

LOVE IS ON THE RED CARPET? EMMY WINNER ADMIRES NOMINEE SIRIUS BLACK

The clip from that interview goes viral, both your fans and Sirius’ dissecting every frame of the videos. Some focus on the subtle up-and-down you give him, slowing it down to a snail’s pace to catch every eye movement. Others focus on Sirius, swearing they could see his eyes flick over to you for a fraction of a second. The ultimate conclusion is that you two should be in love, or already are, and fan edits of both you and your characters are already surfacing on TikTok.

You sigh from your hotel bed, scrolling through an endless amount of photos of him and yourself. Your publicist would not be happy with you. Although, it could be a pretty good marketing strategy.