#when he said he thinks us being different and having a language barrier is an interesting point for him

[okcat]

eee

[januaryembrs]

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

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

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

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

next chpt.

main masterlist.

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

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer gulped quietly. 

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

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing. 

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

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

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

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

So why lie?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+1. The one where you get arrested.

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

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

Yet so was Emily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+2. The one where you graduate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bug-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t even,” 

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was when the shooting started. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could only hope Emily was safe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so they did. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

This was not good. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

2:53 stared back at her. 

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

2:54.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she saw why. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saved mine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stayed with Emily for a month after that. 

+4. The one where you leave the altar. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

[anadiasmount]

along with you - jude bellingham x reader.

GIF by anchyxsblog

quick sum: when giving him a taste of his own medicine, doesn't work out the way you planned... frustrated with your sudden change, jude is faced with his biggest fear, when all he wants is to be along with you.

wc: 2.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa🗣️: hiii!! seems like the theme on here is angst to fluff, so here’s a fic!! also my lovely @judethluvr has wrote a fic similar to this so please check it out here! like always, hope you enjoy! 🤍

“you’re stressing me out jude! please all i'm asking is five minutes in peace!” you yelled, covering your head and walking away from an agitated jude. “y/n you started this? what are you talking about? all i’m asking is why you did come to today's game?” jude followed behind, talking with his hands.

“why would i jude? it’s not like you even wanted me there,” you laugh sarcastically, crossing your arms and facing a confused jude. “i heard what you said in your stupid interview yesterday and today. i’m not going to a place i’m not wanted or invited!” you stressed, feeling tears wanting to run down you’re cheeks.

it had been a rough start for you, not for jude. top goal scorer in the league, back to back man of the matches, top of the group table in the UCL. he had no trouble quickly adapting to a new city and country. while you had it different, the language barrier, your new school, and job, friends. you had no one here besides jude.

it was easier in germany where you could easily travel to him by train or plane. it was closer to england, and your home. where your family and friends were. you could spend the weekend there and come back for school and work. when jude asked you to move with you were estatic, more than grateful to have a partner like him who respects and values you always.

madrid was interesting start. the move was easy and finding the home was better. spending constant nights on the single couch and eating takeout because his and yours stuff from germany had been delayed. when jude became the new sensation, you didn’t expect the constant stalking, digging into your private life, crowds everywhere you went together even if you had tried to hide from them.

you could never get used to it, and it was becoming difficult when jude started to feed into that attention. spending more nights out with his team than at here with you. he constantly forgot about events you had, when you never forgot any of his. always there when he asked and said. you just wanted jude here. your jude.

“what are you in about? what did i even say?”jude tries to defend him, coping your movements by crossing his arms. “you know exactly what you said. i refuse to be treated like a plate for a second table. if you think i can’t be enough for you tell ME not the whole world?” you say, looking at the floor.

“all i want is for you to start being there for me. i missed one game jude, one game. you missed so many of my events since we moved here because you’re so focused on what’s ahead instead of what’s and who’s around you, living life in the moment. i’m tired, i’m tired of you acting selfish.”

you had said it. you always spoke your truth. if they wanted to listen, you’d speak until you felt the need to stop. you were humble and honest, which jude loved. but right now he felt his head would explode from anger and disappointment in himself. his chest tighten at how your words stung and told him to face reality.

“i’m being selfish? it’s my job y/n! i have to think of what’s my future, how i can better in myself and help my teams! just because i missed your events doesn’t mean you should do the same!,” jude stunned you, looking at him with wide eyes. sadness disappearing and now fury filling your veins.

“you see what i mean! this! this whole new persona and attitude! this wasn’t the jude from a year ago who always cared for those around him. this jude is to stuck, sticking his head in the wrong places. afraid to make any mistakes, because oh god forbid he can’t make them,” you say, voice laced with venom as you’d told up straighter.

“what am i supposed to do y/n? you hardly go out anymore, you’re always here or at work or uni. moaning and always tired, getting to our home late. what about the times i need you here? here with me to spend time with each other? to be there for you along with you?”

jude had finally caught up to the taste of his own medicine. it took him nearly three months to realize what you were doing. he did the same, so why couldn’t you? make him feel what you felt. what he was putting you through.

“excuse my language, but that’s bullshit. i’m always here, you just don’t care enough anymore to see that. i’m done with you testing my patience and limit, jude. if you can see or at least acknowledge where i’m coming from then we should think of our future. since your so good at that these days,” you say shakily, becoming afraid of what his next words would be.

jude saw you. you were standing here begging him, at your most vulnerable and sensitive state. your eyes pleading him to understand. you rarely got like this, and when you did, it absolutely drained you. your muscles felt lose, throat sore, eyes puffy, and head hard at steel. you hated fighting, or even have the smallest arguments, but if they didn’t happen, it wasn’t a healthy relationship.

“maybe i will y/n…” jude said angrily. he felt angrier at himself than the situation. you knew you had your reasons to not go and that was fine. he didn’t expect you to attend always but he needed and wanted you there yesterday. it was hurting him but he knew you were just telling him the truth. the truth that needed to be said the moment he started to change.

“if you feel like that jude, i won’t waste your time any longer. just say the words jude,” you test him, tears falling down your cheeks as you approached him pointing to the floor with your index finger as you spoke. jude tensed, clenching his jaw and swallowed heavily.

you took his silence as an answer, shaking your head as you began to cry and go upstairs. you felt torn and confused at where you two laid. it wasn’t easy. making a choice like that, let alone saying it out loud. your eyes felt red and dry, cheek having stains if your makeup and tears, heart dwelling to make things right even though it shouldn’t be you.

your heart was beating faster, and it didn’t stop the entire evening as you got ready for bed. we’re you really prepared to let him go just like that? just because of miscommunication and wanting to be petty? just because you were asking from his part when you did yours? it wasn’t fair, he was never like that before. he didn’t make you question your every move or word nowadays.

you attempted to fall asleep next to him, but you just couldn’t. your head raced at every interaction and touch with him. tears continued to fall from your eyes as you stared at his back facing you. why did he feel like a stranger all of a sudden? someone you couldn’t read anymore? someone who felt distant and cold? he was your boyfriend!

you couldn't stand it anymore... the distance, the argument, the pain, the confusion. you quickly grabbed your blanket and pillow and headed downstairs to the guest bedroom. you were careful with your movemntst and noise not wanting to wake up jude who desrved his sleep. he overworked himself, and the last thin you wanted was to wake him and him be angry at you again.

once settled in, you tucked yourself into the sheets. you went into a fetal position, tears continuing to fall down your face and landing on the pillow softly. when they rolled down slowly, they tickled your skin. you were super sensitive and when you cried, you cried like your life depended on it. you didn't even feel yourself fall asleep, eyes slowly closing and went complete dark.

jude was still puzzled and disappointed in himself. he sat on the kitchen island left wondering why the hell he isnt fighting for you and make you feel wanted, to fix and do what you were asking for. jude knew you were having trouble adapting here, but he was wrong for thinking you'd get over it. you were right, he was thinking of himself and him only.

he can't even remember the last time doing something for you when you asked. you always agreed with no hesitation, no matter how tired or unsure you were, you were there always. why couldn't he do the same for you? why did he let himself be this naive and selfish and think about him only?

the future he had in his head was getting married, having kids, owning a couple of pets, and traveling to give you the world. jude knew he wanted and needed you here in Madrid, he thought it would be best for both of you, a new chapter, which is why he asked you. you left a whole country, friends and family, your old life for him. and here he was acting ungrateful over a stupid game you didn't attend?

the images of you crying and looking lost at him triggered and were marked in his head. the way you slowly let out a breath of disbelief at his silence before rushing upstairs to lock yourself into the room, jude should've given you the space when you asked but he was eager to know and wanted to listen to how you felt, he should've never pushed or made assumptions about you.

jude couldn't sleep either, overthinking how the situation went. his body was drained from the game and how even he let out a few tears when he was left alone. how he had given the impression he had given up. he blinked rapidly, biting his lip anxiously at how he should approach you or apologize.

"y/n?" jude turned over, panic running up his body as he propped himself up at the sight of an empty bed, sheets ruffled and no pilllow there. he ran into the bathroom, then down the library you use to study, all empty. he walked downstairs figuring you may have gotten a glass of water. but nothing was there. he looked in the final place which was the guest room.

he knocked on the door, met with silence. "y/n? my love are you in there?" he knocked again, a bone inside him telling him you were there just choosing to avoid him. "please y/n..." jude landed his forehead on the wooden door, facing the fact whether to go in or go to sleep. he picked the first option, immediately nervous at the sight of you laying on your side.

you had woken up, your throat felt dry and your eyes even drier than before. you felt the bed sink in, jude lying close to you as you faced the window, eyes following the trace of lights outside caused by the moon. you yawned, closing your eyes and trying to focus on what he would say.

"i know i don't deserve it, but you know i can't sleep when you're not next to me..."

"i'm so stupid y/n... you were right. all along i've thought about myself and stuck my head in place it should've never been. all because i have this fear if i don't do what they say, i will fail. when in the ned i failed you, my sweetest y/n..." jude said softly, mimicking your moves and laying on his side where his chest made contact with your back.

"i should be able to make those mistakes and learn from it, it's a part of being human. one mistake can't define my whole career and life. you and i know i'm better than that. which is why i won't make the mistake of pushing you away when i know i should fight for us." jude kissed your bare shoulder. you could feel your chin tremble and your chest hot as tears threatened to fall again.

"i can't make the mistake of giving up on someone who moved a whole new city for me. make the mistake of walking away from the person who will drop what they're doing just to hold or talk to me. make the biggest mistake of leaving the person i can call home and be safe in. i can't and i refuse to let you go when you belong along with me..." jude cried, his words coming out shakily as he cried as well.

"i'm so sorry y/n. you didn't deserve anything in what i put you through... for how i made you feel? for how i treated you? not anything that was caused by my idiocy. i should've have listened to you, cared for you, maybe even helped you to try and find a solution," jude continued to let out, stopping every now and then to peck your shoulder and neck. showering you with the love and touch you craved.

you hadn't moved, your tears silently killing you from the inside and out as you heard his pleas and cries. your inside burned and you almost felt suffocated at the world for how they threw things at you when you least expected it. "whatever it takes, i will make it up to you. be there for you like you always have been for me. to love and care for like i promised to you that day."

you turned over slowly, meeting jude's brown eyes bloodshot red. you brought your hand to wipe his tears away, kissing the tip of his nose, watching how his eyes fluttered in a relaxed manner. you hugged him, your head finding home in the nape of his neck as you cried. "just hold me, please jude..."

and he did just that, nails raking against your bare back and hand smoothly running up and down your spine as he held you close, afraid to let go. jude knew it was a start and it would take a while for you to fully accept his apology. but he was willing to take anything you wanted or asked for.

"i'm glad you're prepared and know what you want because to me that means security and trust. that i know were on the same page and i won't be afraid of telling you what i want. just please jude, don't ever push me away like you did just to satisfy yourself and others around you..." you demanded, your forehead resting against his.

"i promise princess. you have my word."

your lips were centimeters apart, and with a final push, you closed the distance. jude hummed in delight as you kissed him with pure love and urgency. not pulling away until you giggled and pushed back. "now let's go to sleep, but in our bed, because staying in here is starting to freak me out..." you say laughing. jude picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he walked out into the stairs.

"couldn't agree more. let's go to our bed, where i can finally sleep peacefully knowing we're okay..."

[the-moon-files]

Hi! I'm kinda new here but I was hoping to leave a request or at least something to chew on. So there's this genshin sagau where the reader has a bit of a language barrier with the other characters and I was wondering if that translated over to the Linked Universe as well? Like imagine the boys finding this random person with different clothes, accessories, and they talk in a language never before heard of? What are they, some kind of eldritch being? Meanwhile reader recognizes them obviously but frustratingly can't express any feelings asides from base concepts! Man.

Some funnies include; reader voicing more thoughts out loud now that no one can really understand them and reader eventually learning the language and getting a really sick accent out of it.

That's all my tired brain can think of atm so I bid you adieu. Have a good rest of your day :)

First Official Request!! :D oh and its amazinggg, ooOOO a language barrier AU, genshin? hm wonder who wrote that

Reader wasn’t specified and ive adopted masc!reader as the normal over here, so masc reader it is 👍

Sun: Masc/Male Reader (”you”/he/him)

Orbit: EXTRA LONG Headcanons-ish/scenarios SORRY 😭, Language Barrier AU my beloved

Stars: The Classic Chain of Links <3

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, typical mild loz violence, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

so for the sake of even funnier confusion, lets say the boys kinda missed u falling thru a portal, and instead just see the portal, and it disappears w/nothing coming out

(bc u obv are a competent person and clearly recognize the giant horse head stable from Breath of the Wild and went inside, like to orient urself, u will NOT be a Y/N damsel in distress 💀)

the boys had already been heading to that stable to sleep for the night, and needless to say, u nearly have a fit LMAO

first, the Hero of Time walks in, then the Link from Hyrule Warriors, then from Link’s Awakening? Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom Link?? Wind Waker Link, Four Sword Link??? The original Legend of Zelda Link-!!!!

well at least u arent the only weirdly dressed person there

(well, u arent weird looking for the hylians in the stable, theyre used to this weird shit, but the Chain of heroes on the other hand…)

they get to observing their bunkmates for the night, subtly squinting at you, then turning to talk to each other, and slowly every link gets made aware of ur prescense, u didnt think u stood out that bad..

(”くいんね しら んらな すいそらきみについ ちみん らは かくちか まいていりすん はすらも んらなす いすち・”) *

it also quickly becomes obvious to every traveler in the stable that you either cant speak, or wont speak, as when ur exchanging money for rupees at the front desk, the owner is accommodating with you by pointing and grunting and ur just nodding and pointing back

well, its not like when u first greeted the guy u understood even a single thing the guy said, it sounded like some sub-dialect of Japanese or something

u had realized earlier with horror that the game was staying true to its creators, and that most likely everyone spoke a special version of Japanese and ur English ass was abt to be so lonely and confused 😭

Wars/Time/Sky/Four in particular clearly noticed u exchanging all ur currency, as u can see them whispering or glancing at you occasionally as u pocket ur now little green gems the size of coins, rather than strip of paper

(”しにし くい まなとかるるる みらか くちひい すなせいいと・ てくら しらいとみゃか くちひい すなせいいと・ かくちか くちとみゃか すいちりりん そくちみきいし らひいす かくい いすちとね くちと にか てにりし・”)

and the boys move on in the morning, and its acc torture for u bc u had no idea how to even begin to quell their suspicions enough to let you travel along with them

u think u could say u came out a portal, but.. how would tell them that? drawing pictures in the dirt?? 💀

and this just keeps happening.

even when u just try to admire from a distance or even outright just leave them to it and go off to explore Hyrule (as safe as u could after acquiring a weapon and some more clothes)

but its like fate (or maybe Hylia tbh) wants u to run into these legendary heroes (both kinda in ur world and definitely here) constantly

after the stable u manage to run into them in Kakariko Village, which wasnt crazy bc u needed more supplies, and it was the nearest town to the stable

ur sure they noticed, but u outright avoided them out of paranoia or making them paranoid u were following them, and u definitely saw who you thought was the hero of the Four Sword whisper about u as u walked by, not that u caught much

(”るるるかくちかゃと かくい とちもい とかすちみきいほりららのにみき きなん はすらも かくい とかちこりいる てい とくらなりし のいいせ ちみ いんい らみ くにもる”)

but you’d started to recognize some Japanese words! …and tbh anime is the only reason for that, something definitely like “watch, him” 💀

which rlly didnt make u feel any better, and u avoided them even harder, u bought a map, so u made sure to head in the opposite direction of them out of, lets be honest, kinda lowkey fear of what theyd do if they thought u were stalking them

but despite u trying to actively go away from them, either you, or them, would show up everywhere the other went,

you passed by Wind playing in the water in Zora’s Domain,

Twilight riding Epona around the plains in Central Hyrule, Sky hanging laundry outside Wild’s house in Hateno

Honest-to-fucking-god seeing Wars, Wild, and Legend all crossdress to sneak into Gerudo village- u cant fucking escape them-

and the worst part is, you cant understand anyone, other than some basic words atp 😭

its as the Chain come from a path that merges onto yours on the way to Rito Village when Legend snaps first

You’re not even surprised, tbh it was more surprising it took them so long 💀

(”にかゃと んらな!! ちきちにみ!!! てくん ちすぃ んらな はらりりらてにみき なと・ くらて ちすぃ んらな はらりりらてにみき なと・・ くらて ちすぃ てぃ はらりりらてにみき んらな・・!!”)

the look on ur face must have drawn some pity from Twilight bc he’s trying to talk Legend out of his yelling and pointing his sword at you,

(”ひいか そちりも しらてみ! りにのい んらな とちにしね に かくにみの ていゃひい ちりとら とらもいくらて こいいみ はらりりらてにみき かくいも からら!”)

Wars joins in, giving you a confused look, before talking to the group at large, most of which have their hands near their weapons, but dont look that inclined to use them, thank the fucking gods or whoever rules over Hyrule-

(”かくい すちみそくいす くちと ち せらにみかね かくにと すいいのと らは もちきにそ ちみし にゃも となすい にかゃと くんりにちゃと しらにみきる てい とくらなりし まなとか かすん から かちりの から かくいもね といい には かくいんゃすい いさせいすにいみそにみき ちみんかくにみき とかすちみきいる”)

oh no. they want to talk you, you barely picked out in their argument

Time nods in agreement, before stepping forward to talk first, you cant even imagine how anxious u look rn lol

(”かくい らかくいすと ちすい すにきくかね かくにと にと りらみき らひいすしないる もん みちもい にと かにもいね ちみし かくいとい ちすい もん かすちひいりにみき そらもせちみにらみとね ちと にゃも となすい んらなゃひい きちかくいすいし はすらも なと すなみみにみき にみから いちそく らかくいす とら もなそくる てくちかゃと んらなす みちもい・”)

why has Hylia forsaken you. what did you do to not receive some sort of fancy natural translator power in ur brain or something after getting portaled here, its the least she could do for fucks sake- talking to someone in a diff. language is SO much harder than just listening to them to understand what theyre saying-

you desperately try to recall the words people have said at stables and whatnot when introducing themselves, before they realized you couldnt speak the same language

(”Uh… もん みちもい にと… and I’m not following you…とらすすん”)

you just try to say ur name and then say sorry LMAO 😭

Nearly every Link is staring at you bug-eyed in shock, confusion, and understanding all at once

the Chain’s attitude changes pretty quick after that, and they quickly connect the dots after, yes, u do a drawing of a portal in the dirt 💀

u gather from the few words u can get that it was indeed magic (probably Hylia) that kept shortcutting you and the group of heroes together over and over again

…

she can move your position in space time and yet she cant get u an auto-translator after being forced to be here.

(in the middle of u drawing to communicate Hyrule manages to understand the gist of what you meant by that and laughs)

the Chain are quick to be very accomdating, Wars/Sky/Wild all offering to try and better teach u their language, but in return they want to learn yours?

actually, that was smth u noticed pretty early on in the ensuing weeks of travel, was the fascination they had w/English and ur voice??

Wind constantly rambled at you and poked and smiled at you to try and get you to ramble back, and after getting more comfortable around them,

u start to talk like they cant understand a word ur saying, which is entirely accurate, and you notice some like to lean in when you talk, or respond with humming/saying smth like u can understand, or even just gesture for u to keep going

Four/Time/Legend?? surprisingly/Hyrule/Twilight like when u get rlly talkative like ur having a one-sided convo w/them all the time, and they constantly are looking at you poinetedly to hear u narrate whatever ur doing or give a response whenever they same something at you (Rulie/Four/Twi/ and sometimes Time, (and he turns away but Legend too) give a little smile whenever you ramble)

Wild is Very Interested in your langauage, bc the Zora, Rito, Gerudo, and Gorons all had their native tongue that he ended up learning, and so he constantly makes notes to try and decipher some of what ur saying in English

he lights up anytime ur able to successfully tell him another something abt it, like the alphabet, or grammar or structure etc

they seem to pay attention esp in the mornings or late at night? ur not sure why until Wind both draw pictures and tries to get the general idea to you to explain

(”かくいんゃすい ちりり きちんる んらなす ちそそいみか にと くらか ちみし んらなす ひらにそい にと しいいせる かくいんゃすい ていちのる”)

smth abt ur voice being nice? deep? but theirs do that too? u dont get it, but thank him anyway

they also help u out at markets, keep out of trouble w/locals, and other misc tasks that need some language help

everythings going great, the Chain trusts you, ur getting better at their language every day, and bc English is one of the hardest languages to learn in the world, theyre slowly getting some of urs!

it isnt until ur camping out in the Temple of Time when things get weird again

Not only is there English carved into the walls, which u read as the Chain give u “explain now” looks and u communicate that the rlly ancient looking script they may or may not be able to read is, in fact, the written version of ur language-

but then another portal opens, and there’s sentences wrapped around the edges, which are fully in English too.

☆

* = hint: JIS

So i love ciphers for language barrier AUs, so have a cypher! have fun decoding it if u like, but don’t worry abt translating it, as its purposefully not important for u to enjoy this :)

JFC IM SO SORRY AB THE LENGTH I WROTE THIS FROM MIDNIGHT TO LIKE 1:30 AM- UGH sometimes this happens when i get on a scenario kick, SORRY 😭😭

also so sorry abt late reply! at least i already established im slow w/u guys so ig its not a huge surprise 😭

tysm for the request it was such a fun idea to write abt :D

i also like genshin, just a little bit u could say, so it was cool to see this carryover across fandoms lol

language barrier is so versatile, could be angst, crack, etc. so that makes sense

have a great weekend!!

Peace out,

🌙

[cookinguptales]

As someone who grew up in a bilingual household where we spoke English but also signed, the part of Mabel and Theo's relationship that fascinates me the most is the communication, or lack thereof.

I'm mostly hearing (...sort of...) but grew up around a lot of d/Deaf people, CODAs, interpreters, etc. so while I can't give any input on the experience of profound deafness, I can at least tell apart different styles of signing. It's a little hard to tell sometimes how much of this is characterization vs. the skill level of the actors, but it is interesting.

Teddy Dimas does not sign fluidly. It's immediately obvious. It's not that he's terrible or that he can't be understood... it's just that there are a lot of tells that he does not sign as a primary language. The terseness of the signs, the deliberateness. You can tell that there's a second of thought before each sign, a jerky sort of compactness to them, that's common with people who learn to sign later in life. (Or who don't get a ton of practice with it.)

Signing, when you do it right, requires the use of your whole body. That can be hard for hearing people, who are generally used to more restrained movements. Teddy Dimas has never quite lost that restraint. He still can't go all in, not with his signing or his parenting.

I always thought this was really interesting, because it means that Teddy most likely learned to sign for his son (tragically uncommon with hearing parents of Deaf children) but that he still can't quite translate his thoughts properly into sign language. He can't quite get his emotions through to his son. There's a barrier there between them, and it seems to be largely one that Teddy's erected -- until Theo starts snapping back.

What I'm getting at is that Teddy has always forcibly drawn his son into his world instead of immersing himself in Theo's, and it shows. And it has really harmed their relationship, in more ways than one.

Zoe... we don't see a ton of her signing, but there does seem to be something somewhat performative about it. It's more fluid, like perhaps she's done it her whole life, but there's also something sort of... idk, false about it? And I wonder if that's just Zoe. It felt like she was always covering up her true feelings of loneliness and emptiness with a flamboyant personality, and the little flourishes to her signing seem to convey that as well. Her signing feels almost theatrical to me.

Theo and Mabel, though... I've always loved that episode where they go to Coney Island together. I get the criticism that Theo said at the beginning that he couldn't understand much of what she said when he was reading lips -- and then she proceeded to just talk at him for the rest of the episode anyway. But to me, at least, that always seemed like it was kind of the point. They couldn't understand each other, not fully, and that was something soothing to them.

There's something healing, I think, about shouting into the void. Letting out all of your most personal, complicated feelings without fear of repercussion or judgement. Talking into the wind because you know it won't talk back. You need to feel that echo but also know that it won't be heard.

I think there was some of that there in their initial relationship. Both of them desperately needed to talk, to get everything off their chests, but both of them also have trouble opening up to others due to trauma. So I think speaking to someone who couldn't understand them was, in some ways, ideal. They could make a human connection while keeping it fairly impersonal. They could unload without fear of judgement -- or worse, understanding.

Oddly, I think their mutual need to communicate without being understood was the one thing they understood best about each other. They could sense each other's loneliness and wariness and inability to trust that they could tell someone something important without it being used against them -- because their love and their trust have always been used against them.

So maybe in a way, their inability to talk to each other was actually what helped them communicate on a deeper level...?

Still, though. Still. I was so pleased to see that Mabel is learning more sign language so she can talk to Theo. She's got a long way to go, but no one learns to sign overnight. She's making progress, and you can tell that Theo appreciates it. There are still times where he gets too excited and signs too fast and she doesn't catch all of it, and there are times when she gets so wrapped up in her own soliloquies that she forgets that you have to face Deaf people while talking to them, but there's a familiarity to it now. When he signs too fast, she smiles and teases him. When she talks too quickly or forgets to sign or turns away from him, he just smiles and sighs and shakes his head. Then waits for her to come back.

Theo finds it irritating, obviously, but also understands that it's just... Mabel. She spends so much time in her own head that she has trouble communicating even with people who speak her language, as evidenced with Tobert. And maybe Theo does understand her in ways that others can't. Maybe it's the very fact that he accepts that he can't always understand her that makes her feel comfortable with him.

I also have to wonder, y'know... Has anyone ever learned to sign for him before, other than his father, who clearly saw it as a burden? Has anyone ever seen him as worth the effort of learning, not out of an obligation to speak to him but a desire to? No wonder he's being patient with her. I wonder if anyone has ever put in as much effort for him as she already has. It makes me so sad to think about, because what she's doing now is so... bare minimum. Theo has been so desperately alone, and so much of that is because his father isolated him. It's because no one else ever reached out. :(

idk, it just makes me happy that these two people who originally bonded over their inability to communicate are now comfortable enough with each other to try actually talking. There's something so shy and so joyful about it. I love that for them, especially Theo.

I don't want him to be alone anymore!! I want him to have someone he can talk to, whom he trusts enough to talk to, who thinks he's worth learning to talk to back!

Their odd brand of bilingual communication (or lack thereof) is just fascinating to me. ;;

[calisources]

𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒, 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences were taken from difference media about age gap and age difference relationships, all acceptable relationships within consenting adults with age differences. Please do not use for teenagers or taboo relationships. These have some foul language or suggestive undertones so please beware. You can change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

I bet it doesn’t feel like this with that boy of yours, does it?

You’ll never know when I’m going to drag you into the darkness, pumping my cock into one of your tight holes. And you’ll take every inch like a good little girl.

What a tiny life we’d live if we fashioned ourselves to the comforts of others.

I think I'm a little old for that, love.

No, not old. But you're, you know, a man.

Tell me that you've never had anyone else. I want you to pretend.

You show me things I've forgotten.

Sometimes I think you must have seen it all before. That I can't show you anything new.

I like you as you are, he said. Even if you're going to wear me out.

I’m rough with your body sometimes, but I’ll always be gentle with your soul. She bruises far more easily.

This prince is a few years younger than you, and does not have much experience.

I must have forgotten how young you would be, Princess. Has there ever been a sovereign of such tender age?

Who is to say what love is or what it wants to be, the shape it takes, or how quickly it comes on? Love has always made a fool of time.

I don’t feel old. As a matter of fact, sitting here with you makes me feel older, not younger. Nothing is rubbing off.

Mr. Rochester was about forty, and this governess not twenty; and you see, when gentlemen of his age fall in love with girls, they are often like as if they were bewitched.

He's old enough to be your father.

Tonks deserves somebody young and whole.

But she wants you. And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.

Age is no barrier. It's a limitation you put on your mind.

Age considers; youth ventures.

Age, like distance lends a double charm. 

I'm a strong believer that a good relationship can work, whatever the situation. 

Love knows no boundaries, not even the ones defined by age.

Don’t let society’s judgment define your love. Follow your heart, despite the age difference.

Most people would be upset they get an old man as their husband.  

Do not worry about your age, Ser. The lady pays attention not to age but prowess.

I will not let time choose my lovers for me. I trust my own judgement. 

You should look to more prosperous gardens, Your Grace.

I was sixteen years old when you were born.

No doubt you were much my superior in judgement at that period of our lives; but does not the lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal nearer?

Come, my dear Emma, let us be friends, and say no more about it. 

I have seldom seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers. But I am a partial old friend.

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

We spend more time discussing this matter than being together as a couple. And I believe you are doing it on purpose.

You think my attention is as fickle that I would look elsewhere.

Perhaps it would be you who looks elsewhere. A handsome older man must have youthful maidens at his disposal.

If we were closer in age, it would've been fine.

I have loved you since the moment I helped you with your zipper. 

Would it make you feel better if I call you Daddy while you fuck me?

You’ll be a silver fox before 40 at this rate.

Well, it’s definitely your fault. You stress me out. You’re making my hair turn white.

It’s easy to cast opinions when your heart isn’t the one invested.

I hope you love me, because I love you like crazy, and I'm going to want you the rest of my life.

You already know the truth. And I will be by your side, but I am not good for you.

I am tired of others getting to choose who is good for me. You do that quite often, frequently. 

You'll keep your name. You'll keep your will. You'll have your own servants to attend you— you will have everything you ask for.

Don't ask me to let you do. Do you understand? Do not ask me.

It might be best for us, for myself, if I found myself useful elsewhere.

I wish you could just slow down so I could catch up to you.

Stamina is not an issue. But rather what others will whisper.

When are you going to get over this? All I did was touch your leg.

Why would it matter if someone saw you saying hello to me?

But it’s nice to be around you. Like I haven’t lost a decade of my life.

I been in love with you since I was six, fool. 

I will always belong to you, but I’m afraid there will be others after me. I’m not a young man/woman.

A kiss ... a muse. It is a question, an unlocked door. It is ... elation ... and anguish.

You have treated me better than any young man my age. Why should I go for either of them? 

Young men are eager lovers. I prefer my lovers to take their time. I’m sure with men is the same.

You make me feel really safe. i’m not used to that.

You gave an old man purpose again. And that is more than I can ask of you.

I was a child then, with a crush and a dream. As I grew, dreams changed but you remain the one in my dreams.

I have thought about kissing you a lot. What would that make me?

I have more in common with you than men my age.

Do not pretend to think what I think.

More recently, there are rumors she prefers her lovers to be younger. Truth to be told, I don’t blame her.

I will teach you in time, but for now restrain me and have your way with me. I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.

We have never done anything to be ashamed of. You’ve never done anything to be ashamed of.

Personally, I think the difference keeps us interesting in another another. 

You can teach me all you wish, and I can learn. I know I can.

There is always a wild side to an innocent face.

You are being too forward right now, my lady. Be careful.

There would be other loves. Even great loves. But she was right, only one remained perfect.

Maybe there are some people you marry and people you love.

Just so you know, you're a natural lover. Your body expresses beautifully what's in your heart.

I have never felt so alive... as when I am in your arms.

A 5 to 7 relationship is a relationship outside of marriage.

You're older than I am, you're wiser I'm sure and you've seen much more of the world.

[belit0]

I saw you already did Indra, Madara, and Izuna…

But would you consider writing for Obito, Shisui, Itachi, and Sasuke with an S/O who has a different first language?

I love your work! Thank you!

Of course my love! Here it goes!

Thanks for the support pipi🛐🫱🏼‍🫲🏼

Obito

- The first few weeks are pure chaos. Obito is in love, okay? It doesn't matter if he understands absolutely nothing of what (Y/N) says, this is real love and no one can convince him otherwise. He takes notes of all the words he picks up while talking to her, and uses them to help him try to say what he wants to say. Obito carries his little notebook with him to all his appointments, and takes time to read all the pages when he hears her speak and put together the sentence he thinks she said.

Shisui

- The real "play smart, don't try to play hard". Shisui, from the first moment he knows he wants this woman and she doesn't speak the same language as him, starts researching in the field. Before even approaching her and interacting, he begins watching TV shows that explicitly speak (Y/N)'s language, Sharingan activated to save every lip movement, pronunciation and word. Books also help, and when he finally moves closer to her, he's fully bilingual.

Itachi

- Honest and sincere, Itachi could also make a move like the Uchiha above, but he finds that the cultural barrier is actually an advantage in the situation. Where everyone else would be overwhelmed or intimidated by not being able to understand what the other person is saying, Itachi sees an opportunity to learn directly from (Y/N). He'll first learn how to ask permission to use his Sharingan, and then have it activated every time they see each other (the first few times) in order to learn the basics then have her teach him the rest in a normal way.

Sasuke

- Realistically considers whether the situation is worth it, not feeling like wasting time in any way or sense. Eventually, and for intrinsic reasons he can't even explain, he decides that learning the language is what he must do, but he will never admit it in front of her. He looks for ways to casually absorb that knowledge, not explicitly pursuing learning but finding environments where it is easy to incorporate the language, and simply presents himself to her with increasing skill in the matter. He refuses to admit he made an effort to communicate.

[body-face-words]

"How does it feel to be dating someone who is only five years older than your daughter?"

Below will be the analysis for this question! This is NOT the interview so don't click on it.

Here are just random timestamp for this segment: 3:59 - 5:23

Something to keep in mind for any interview: Michael and David are actors. They know how to act when need be, but they also let many things slip through. It's close to impossible to control and be aware of your body language and facial expressions 100% of the time.

"How does it feel to be dating someone who is only five years older than your daughter?"

Surprised at the question, then thinks about it (you can see it in the video). Because of how his head is positioned, chin tucked, eyes up, the look of surprised isn't all that noticeable, but if his head was positioned normally, then the upper sclera (white part of the eye) would be exposed.

Before he says 'um' there's a flash of a smile. This could mean nervousness, he found the question amusing, or he found the reaction of the people around amusing. Probably the third option.

"Because of the age difference, I think both of us were quite surprised when we got together."

Nods meaning he agrees with the statement. Throughout the interview (and in this statement as well), you'll see Michael raise his brows and open his eyes while staring firmly at the person. This means he's trying to get his point across "I'm telling the truth/This is true."

"I don't think either of us -" shakes head 'no' meaning that his head is being congruent with what he is saying "-were kind of looking for that - it's not like it was the easiest thing to do."

He shrugs ONLY his right shoulder, widens his eyes, blinks multiple times, and looks away; the first incongruency. When only ONE shoulder is raised/shrugged it means the person is lying. To Michael, one of them or both, were looking for the age difference or could be one of them were looking for something else.

The wide eyes, blinks, and loss of eye contact could mean nervousness/fast thinking/ or a mixture of the both with the stuttering he does.

"It's not like I've dated lots of people who were much younger than me."

Shakes his head no multiple time with brows raised and wide eyes - Michael believes he hasn't dated people much younger than him and tries to get his point across ('I'm telling the truth/I'm not hiding anything').

"We were very aware of - you know - what difference there might be and also how people might respond to that."

Frantically nods his head (raised brows & wide eyes) trying to show/prove that they were aware.

"So it's not like it was the easiest thing to do."

Fake smile at the end. The smile stretches horizontally not curving up. As he continues to speak, the smile looks frozen/tense when you look at his lips. The lower eyelids do barely come up, but it doesn't make his eyes noticeably smaller like when he genuinely smiles. There also isn't that softness in his eyes. The 'do' at the end also falls in tone.

"Ultimately (nods) we felt it was worth it because of how we felt about each other-" blinks "and now we have two beautiful children together."

That 'blink' during the pause between sentences, wasn't a blink. They are fast and not very noticeable. What Michal did was noticeable and a lot slower than a blink.

Shutting your eyes, obscuring your vision, or for a 'blink' to last too long mean several things: wanting to disconnect from what is being said/seen, distancing/putting a barrier between ourselves and whatever is causing is discomfort, or waning to disconnect and think about someone else.

Michael doesn't want to see or wants to disconnect from what he's saying and takes a split second to collect himself, then pivots the conversation to his children.

"Yeah I'm really happy." - nods and continues to talk about his children and continues to try and show he's being honest.

"If you find someone who brings you happiness and you make then happy-"

Right shoulder goes up, head turns/leans to the right - he's lying. Because he's indirectly talking about himself and AL, this means Michael doesn't feel that AL alone brings him happiness.

This might just be me so let me know what you see and think: when Michael says "& you make them happy" I see a little head shake (meaning no). He feels/thinks that he doesn't make AL happy.

"-you gotta go - you gotta go for that I think and so that's what we decided to do."

In between these two statements, he licks his lips by curling his lower lip in. Brows are up, eye lids relaxed, and starring off - in this case he's thinking and concentrating.

"That's what we decided to do and I'm so happy we did (said with a dead tone) because we have this wonderful family now."

Shakes head no two times - he's not happy they went for it and doesn't believe they have a wonderful family.

The smile at the end - to me - what caused it was Michael seeing the person smile. They sort of giggled and smile widely. Michael was already looking at them so to me, his smile is a reaction to seeing the other smile.

In conclusion; Michael felt like he was lying a lot. He doesn't think him nor AL make each other happy. He doesn't feel like they have a wonderful family. He does think/feel one or both of them were looking for something when it came to being in a relationship.

Let me know if I missed anything!

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

It became an odd habit.

“Will you accompany me, Harry?”

Harry was well past the point of complaining. Whenever Riddle appeared out of nowhere and knocked on his door, there was little he could say or do to get him to leave.

“Oh, do I have a choice this time?”

He didn’t laugh, per se, but the slight tilt of Riddle’s head and the suspicious gleam in his eyes were as loud as one. He held out his hand, palm up, in answer.

Harry refused the offer with a shake of his head and sighed, “Lead the way, I guess.”

They never apparated to the same place twice. Their surroundings were always unfamiliar and remote and never inspired much confidence in the possibility of Harry returning home safely. But he always did. Riddle made sure of that.

Sometimes Harry wondered if this was his weird way of letting off steam, as though their time together somehow relaxed and revitalised him. It was an insane thought, but the fact remained that Riddle would show up tense and barely controlled and one careless word away from a fight, and he would leave loose-limbed and satisfied. Usually at the expense of Harry. 

This time was no different. Riddle’s fist was white-knuckle tight, and the location was a drab and dreary abandoned manor of some kind. Walls of crumbling stone and floorboards rotted nearly through, making each step taken a delicate dance. The dust in the air was enough to make Harry cough once or twice; the building had clearly been neglected for a long while.

“What is it today,” Harry asked. “Another potion? More rune work? If you try to teach me a dead language again, I will kick you in the shin and finally make good on my threats of moving to a different country.”

Riddle glanced back over his shoulder and raised a single brow. “Do you truly think distance will stop me?” He asked.

No. Harry didn’t even think being universes apart would stop Riddle.

Still, he scoffed and said, “Creep.”

Riddle simply smiled. “I will not subject myself to that again. You are surprisingly ungrateful for having the honour to learn from a being as powerful as I.”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes, “Yeah. So sorry for not appreciating everything you do for me. Oh, wait—I never asked.”

Riddle hummed, not agreeingly. Never agreeingly. “We will be attempting a discipline you’ve shown great promise in but one we’ve never indulged upon.” 

For the life of him, Harry couldn’t think of a single thing in which he showed great promise. He also couldn’t think of a time when Riddle didn’t indulge whenever he damn well pleased. “As vague as ever today,” Harry prodded. “Don’t hold back; share with the class.”

Riddle stopped so suddenly that Harry almost ran straight into him. With a careless wave of his hand, the double doors to their left opened.

And inside was a pristine duelling arena. 

Harry’s mouth parted, but he couldn’t find the words. This was damn impressive. 

The stone walls were just as decrepit here as they were throughout the manor, but their ruin spoke of wide-cast spellfire and magic dark enough to leave its mark. Of a frazzled mind with enough wherewithal to make it to the duelling room but not enough to cast a protective barrier. It had ample light from shattered windows, but not a single shard of glass could be found across the decorative tiled floor, its pattern still polished to a dull shine.

They walked in - or, rather, Riddle walked in, and Harry followed behind him, content in his rapture. He wouldn’t truly ever get used to wizarding homes and their larger-than-life rooms. Harry would have been none the wiser passing by those double doors; they didn’t look nearly grand enough to hide such a gorgeous arena. But that was magic, he supposed.

It was clear they’d stopped. Harry wasn’t sure how long it had been with as taken as he was by the stage next, admiring its long dark floorboards that came together in a sort of v pattern that repeated. Harry was so hung up on trying to remember the name of it (Houndstooth? Plaid? No, it was something with a C-) that he hadn’t realised just how close Riddle had gotten.

He felt a chill travel up his throat before he processed the movement. Riddle’s hand was just beneath his chin, ice-cold fingers a hair’s breadth away from Harry’s skin. With a muted gasp, he froze and locked eyes with him, which wasn’t very hard to do. Riddle’s were already fixated on him. 

Their silence was thick enough to suffocate. 

Riddle curled his fingers into his palm slowly and brought his hand to hover just before the round of Harry’s face. He could sense that creeping cold reaching out again with the phantom feeling of Riddle’s knuckles pulling a slow line down his cheek, stopping at the corner of his lips. Riddle moved back then and gestured at them, “Close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies, Harry.”

His teeth made an audible click, the sound making Harry wince when it echoed in the hollow space. To save himself from further embarrassment, he grimaced and blessed Riddle with one of his rarely used meaner smiles, “Come that close to me again, and I’ll bite that finger off.”

Riddle pulled back even slower and tilted his head to the side. He raked his gaze over Harry’s face, down his body, and on his pass back up, he shrugged and said, “Now, now. That’s no way to handle your disputes, is it?”

Like a static shock, Harry finally realised what was happening. 

All that anger brewing like a potion in his gut dissipated. His shoulders fell - he wasn’t sure when they’d hiked so far up in the first place - and he huffed out a laugh. “I know what you’re doing,” Harry said.

Riddle looked at him with all the innocence of a Nundu. “Oh? Am I doing something, Harry?” He asked.

Harry breathed through the kindling trying to catch a new spark. “You know what you’re doing,” he started backing away. Riddle’s eyes followed him keenly as his steps took him up the middle of the duelling stage and back down to the other side. He wasn’t running away, just trying to get some distance. “You always know what you’re doing. And I am not falling for it—you won’t manipulate me into this.”

“Surely I’ve no understanding of what you’re implying.” Riddle’s polished shoes tap-tap-tapped their way right after Harry, but he stopped on the stage. He looked down on him from above. “But if I did,” Riddle continued, “I’d tell you you’re only prolonging the inevitable.”

Harry shook his head, this man… “You can’t be serious?”

Riddle folded his hands behind his back. His smile was sharp. “When have I ever been anything but?” He asked, and Harry scoffed. 

He wavered for a moment, maybe two, and finally climbed back up the steps to the duelling stage. Riddle, the asshole, looked far too pleased. He turned to face Harry, and they were so close that he only had to look down ever so slightly.

They hadn’t been this close in a long, long time. It was just Harry’s luck that it was happening twice in one day. Fourth Year came to mind as the last time Harry was forced into this proximity. Forced because, unlike now, he hadn’t ever chosen to be in Riddle’s space. Or company. Or attention. 

They stood in silence. Riddle’s grin grew teeth with each passing second. Harry knew what he wanted, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to instigate it—invite it any more than he already was. 

Then, Harry heard an echo of words, a lost encounter in the back of his memories. It pulled a smile on his lips, smaller than Riddle’s but no less there. “A wizard’s duel, then?” Harry teased. “Wands only — no contact?”

At the sight of Harry’s smile and the sound of his teasing, Riddle’s face fell flat. His eyes narrowed. “Your focus should be here, Harry.” He paused and said, “We wouldn’t want you to get hurt because of some minor distraction. Would we?”

Harry smiled a little wider, “Jealous? How very like you.”

Riddle sneered, “Do not speak of me as though I am predictable.”

Now Harry gave in to the temptation to roll his eyes. They, unfortunately, knew each other very well. Riddle was the most predictable person Harry had ever met, and he knew it—if only because Harry was the most predictable person he had ever met. 

“Fine,” Harry conceded. “Ten paces, right?” He turned to begin his count, but Riddle stopped him by the scruff of his shirt. 

Non too gently, he yanked Harry back. Cold breath puffed against his ear in semblance of a laugh. “And we bow, Harry,” Riddle murmured, causing a wave of shivers down Harry’s spine. 

Harry glared over his shoulder and spat, “Make me.”

[kirisunshineboy]

𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧 | 𝙮𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙞 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

☆ 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: min yoongi/reader ☆ 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳��: pure fluff ☆ 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: a little to much fluff ☆ 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.6k ☆ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: Yoongi arrives home late. Again. So much time off without him has made you think that maybe there's someone else he's interested in now, and you can't bear the pain of that thought.

☆ 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: The word apapachar comes from Nahuatl, and means "to caress with the soul". It is considered one of the most beautiful words in Mexico, and, personally, it is my favorite of all the words in my language. Btw, sorry for any grammatical errors, English isn't my first language.

You always wait for Yoongi awake. Or at least you try to. The first few times weren't that hard: you just sat on the couch in front of the front door and after twenty minutes he would come in apologizing for being late. You didn't care. It wasn't that big of a deal. 

He would come up to you and give you a kiss on the head, kneeling in front of you to rest his head on your lap as a way of apologizing. You always played hard to get, but you could never resist him and ended up accepting his offer of peace, starting to slip your fingers through his soft locks to brush them and massage his head. 

It would all continue with Yoongi carrying you in his arms to his room to tuck you in, giving you kisses with quick flutters all over your face between his every move, ending with him hugging your body gently as he traced slow circles on your back. 

"I love you" was the last thing you heard before falling into dreams. 

But that wasn't happening anymore. 

Not in a long time. 

You can't remember the last day you even saw him at a time other than him coming out of the bedroom early in the morning, leaving you alone in the big bed you share. 

In fact, you can't even be sure if you're still sharing it, as it's been two weeks since his presence in the evenings has been non-existent. 

You've almost forgotten what his soothing touch feels like on your heavy back. 

You glance at the clock by the door. 03:25 a.m.

Your eyes feel heavy and you don't think you can stay awake any longer. Although to be honest, not that that's of any use. Deep in your heart you know that Yoongi probably won't make it home tonight. Or the next. 

Work? Yeah, maybe. You know how obsessive he can be when it comes to producing music. But you're suspicious. And it's at times like this that your doubts are triggered, embracing your unconscious in a way you hate. 

You'd be lying if you said you've never wondered if there's someone else. It's normal, isn't it? And sure, you'd have your reasons for doubting, but it doesn't take you long to bury those thoughts to the back of your mind every time. 

Only this time it's different.

The back-to-back unexplained absences and the strange barrier of distance that has risen between you do nothing to dull your thoughts. 

Yes, maybe you found someone else. Someone who shares the same passion he does for music. Someone who doesn't need so much annoying physical affection. Someone he can talk to about his work without having to explain every little concept. 

You feel your eyes fill with tears and your eyes sting. 

3:50 a.m.

It wouldn't be hard for him to get someone else. You're the first to say he's the most handsome man you've ever seen, I mean, why did he pick you in the first place? Having thousands, millions, of options. Maybe you were just a passing fancy. Maybe he realized the women he could get and decided to pass you up. You wouldn't blame him if he decided to dump you in a corner at the drop of a hat. 

At this point, you're curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you. Silent tears slide down the surface of your skin and land on the soft fabric covering you. 

It's okay, isn't it? 

You love him. And people who love should step aside if they are no longer reciprocated. That's the way it should be. 

You feel a blue feeling run through you from top to bottom. This only intensifies when you hear the door lock rattle heavily. 

4:10 a.m.

Yoongi arrives. 

When the door opens, you can see his silhouette walking wearily into the house, closing the door carefully behind him. His shadow moves and leaves his coat on the coat rack, sighing heavily. Yoongi moves toward you, but without noticing you yet. Not that there is any light to indicate your presence. 

You feel a new horde of tears threatening to come out and you tremble. 

Yoongi seems to notice a lump on the couch and turns on the lights just in time to see your figure writhing in spasms under the blanket. 

His face goes from tired to worried in an instant. 

"Honey, what's wrong, what are you doing awake at this hour?" Yoongi whispers as he approaches your trembling figure. His face looks alarmed as he stands in front of you. 

What Yoongi watches closely are your watery eyes and flushed nose. Your flushed cheeks and tousled hair make him fidget.

You still can't speak. Not with the lump in your throat. 

"Honey, please talk to me"

Yoongi insists, kneeling in front of you and reaching for your hands underneath the cloth. His heavy eyes are flashing an alarm signal beneath you. 

"You are late. Again." 

The words leave your throat in a wisp of a voice that Yoongi wouldn't have heard but for the silence there. 

Yoongi clenches your hands and looks down, guilty. 

"I... The job took me longer than expected, you know I've been working on the album I told you about and-"

You don't let him finish. 

"You're going to leave me?" You ask, your voice hoarse. Your tone is the complete opposite of your current appearance, which is destroyed and tearful. Yoongi looks up at you, surprised by your question. He lets go of your hands. 

"What are you talking about?"

You feel your chest tighten. You open your mouth again and try to speak, but only rubbery, unintelligible gasps come from your lips. Yoongi distinguishes a few loose things among your babbling, "You're always late," "I know I'm not as interesting as other women," and a halting, "I'll do better."

You don't know how to describe Yoongi's expression as he stands up and turns his back to you, mumbling. He holds his hair before asking you. "What woman are you talking about?"

You look up from the blanket and he turns to face you. Your eyes meet. 

"Isn't that why you're not home?"

"I'm not-"

"Isn't that why you don't hug me?"

Yoongi can swear he feels his heart melt with an acidic sense of guilt after hearing you. 

He rushes to hug you tightly, wrapping his arms around your sobbing body. 

You are like this because of him. 

It's his fault. 

You feel like you could burst into tears right there. 

"Oh, honey," Yoongi's voice sounds broken. More crying builds up in you. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

You allow yourself to relax under his embrace. You missed him so much. Yoongi tightens his grip on you and drowns your sobs in his chest. 

"I thought that- that I was the problem and that you didn't like me anymore-" you cry. 

"Please, please don't say that," he begs. He takes your face in his hands and removes the hair over your face to look at you. Now you can make out the dark bags under his eyes. Now Yoongi's nose and cheeks are red too. 

"I'm sorry" He says."Sorry for being away so much, sorry for not explaining anything to you, I didn't mean for you to feel this way..... I'm just- sorry for everything, honey..."

Yoongi kisses your face in messy motions, desperate to let you know he loves you, that he would never stop.

More apologies spill from his lips between each kiss. He takes special care to cover your nose and forehead with affection, mingling his own tears with yours. 

"I-I love you so much and it has never crossed my mind to have anyone else. You're all I want with me, forgive me..."

Yoongi catches you in a protective embrace. You wrap your limbs around his torso, wrapping your legs around his waist and clinging to his body. He smiles, tracing the familiar circles on your back to reassure you. Your eyes close longingly at the movement of his fingers on your skin. You had missed him so much. 

His breathing begins to soothe you, calming your crying after a few minutes. Yoongi buries his face in your hair, breathing slowly. He had missed you too. 

After a few moments that felt long, you feel him stand up and lift you with him, carrying you all the way to his bedroom. He sets you down on the bed and asks you to let go. 

"It will only take a moment, I promise. I'm not going anywhere," he says and gives you one of his rubbery smiles. You reluctantly agree, letting go to hug yourself. 

Yoongi turns his back on you and walks over to the closet to find you some comfortable clothes to sleep in. He decides to bypass your pajamas and goes straight to his part of the closet to give you his favorite shirt and a pair of shorts. He pulls out his own change of clothes and lays them on the bed next to you. 

You feel tired and it's no wonder, as it's after five in the morning. Yoongi takes off your top and puts on his shirt, kissing your shoulders before doing so. Then he puts on his shorts. When he finishes changing you to sleep he doles out more kisses on your face, leaving a soft one on your lips. 

You wait for him to finish dressing and when he does, he takes one end of the blanket from the bed and wraps it around you, moving you around until he has laid down as well. He pulls you in until you are facing his chest and turns off the light, lulling you to sleep. His arms tighten around you as he draws slow patterns on your back. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and you cling closer to his warmth, feeling yourself slowly fade away.

"I love you" Is the last thing you hear before you fall asleep. 

[iuciferic]

Oh my god I was just thinking about asks the other day and then it wasn't available so I'm gonna use this. I found you through Armored Core and I've stayed for the OC art because the SUN GOD??? Immaculate. I've been dying to know, is there like, a post on here with more information on the lore of these characters you've created? I'm so invested.

Hi and thank you for asking

I'm admittedly the WORST person to ask their OCs about because i have dozens of different AUs where those OCs doesn't even have the same names, relationships, ages, status, powers, etc because i really use them as barbie dolls

And even the lore of main universe (sol invictus) keeps changing (hence why i keep deleting the webcomic). But I promise I'm gonna try to make a definitive artbook.

However the main thing about the story that mostly doesn't change and you can read it under here:

Apologies, i write badly, english is not my native language and my friends usually proofread my comics to make the dialogues sound more natural

Basically gods are aliens, they're space entities such as planets, stars, black holes, etc or even phenomenon like wind, thunder... and are more or less sentient. Once there was a huge star called Paragon that imploded into a black hole. When it imploded, its light (called Hyperion) was ejected and what remained was a black hole called Exodus (which will later become the main antagonist). Basically Paragon's consciousness was split in half between Exodus and Hyperion.

Hyperion, gathering dust and debris left by supernovae created the original sun god "Sennacherib" (this guy). After that, Hyperion created the planet on which the story takes place and the rest of its solar system (hence, the other deities).

Now comes the problem that Exodus is not happy about being left into a literal corpse state and it thinks that if it can absorb Hyperion back, it will become the star it was once before (but it's too late there's no coming back from being a black hole). Therefore Exodus desperately tries to reach the solar system Hyperion created (in the form of dark particles called Miasma that corrupt (rot or turn into monsters) and eat away everything they touch). To defend itself, Hyperion creates beings of lights (an army of angels) whose job is to destroy anything that's been contaminated by that darkness. Hyperion itself turns is busy keep up a barrier that stops Exodus from sending even more miasma (but like, things slip in, and its the angels job to kill those things).

Hyperion especially has ONE angel whose role is not only to manage mortals (like humans and other sentient races) but also to absorb the Miasma inside himself because you cannot get rid of Miasma, you have to put it somewhere. That angel is Lucifer. Lucifer is the strongest of angels, it's said his light was even brighter than the sun itself. And Sennacherib, the sun god, loved him. They were involved romantically.

Unfortunately, after thousands of years, Hyperion senses that Lucifer is reaching its limits and it's going to be problematic if they don't get rid of him soon and send him into the void where he'll cease to exist. He's going to become another Exodus with how much Miasma he's absorbed.

So Hyperion asks Sennacherib to help create a new replacement for Lucifer, one that will be less powerful, easy to kill if things go wrong but still able to absorb as much Miasma. So Sennacherib creates Adramelekh from one of his 6 arms.

The problem is Adramelekh is a body without a soul. It's literally just a pile of light. He asks Lucifer to give him a piece of his soul so he can start from it and create a full person. But he explains that Adramelekh will replace Lucifer as the light bringer. At first Lucifer is perplexed because he doesn't know what will happen to him once Adra replaces him. But he also sees it as creating a child who is the fruit of their love and accepts. The first incarnation of Adramalekh is created. She's mortal but she's not allowed to reincarnate like everyone else due to how much Miasma she absorbs, she will corrupt all the other souls. Instead she's reborn from her ashes like a phoenix every time she dies.

Meanwhile Exodus decides to launch another attack on Hyperion by creating a being of darkness called Death. Death will infiltrate the planet, live there and slowly corrupt everything as to force Hyperion to leave. The plan is to basically plant 3 seeds of chaos into powerful beings that will force weaken Hyperion.

Death plants the first seed, Pestilence, inside Lucifer during a battle. The seed drives Lucifer crazy, he starts questioning everything and eventually finds out Hyperion planned to get rid of him as soon as Adra was ready to replace him and cast him into the void. So he rebels against Hyperion, beings corrupting everything around him, but loses the war. [I have to keep brainstorming what happens to him, but he doesn't die, he's just incapacitated for like 3000 years]. The saddest part was Lucifer didn't become evil of his own, but mostly because he found out he had been betrayed by his loved ones. he still had the mental capacity to fight the seed if it wasn't for that

Later, Death plants War into a character. But that's spoiler and tbh some people who know the story probably know who. War's job is to plunge the world into chaos with constant wars.

But death's ultimate plan is to plant Famine inside Adramelekh and turn her into a black hole that will absorb everything Hyperion created.

In the future the old Sun god is badly injured and he's forced to merge with Adramelekh who then takes his place. The problem is she also loses her sense of identity because her consciousness is confused with his and the many corrupted souls she's absorbed through the millennia.

Now to Anamelekh (who doesn't have human ears like in this pic, i made a mistake).

Ana is a golem created to protect Adramelekh or execute her if she ever becomes evil. I am still brainstorming weather or not Ana used to be human. But basically Anamelekh has known dozens of Adras. They all died young for various reasons (there's one guy who keeps making sure Adramelekh dies as soon as she's reborn). All of them had different personalities, but Ana loved all of them (Well... those that survived long enough).

Except the current one (at first) who seems immature, stubborn and selfish.

Ana will also have to merge with the old moon god and become one too later in the story.

[fictionalmenplz]

Never In A Thousand Years

Summary: Camille's first night in Kattegat is spent in argument and stress, she's prepped for the wedding, Ivar and Camille are wed.

Warnings: stress, fluff

Sorry for the long wait, took me longer to finish up and this chapter is sort of long 👀

Chapter Three

I promised Ivar I would tell him what Margretthe had told me after the feast, he worried so much that he dragged me away early. I sat on the bed, watching him nervously as he stood in front of me.

"Now tell me. What did Margretthe tell you." His eyes glowed blue, bluer than I'd ever seen them. I shook my head, "Ivar when I tell you, you must know that I do not believe her!"

I pleaded for him to at least calm down or prepare to not be angry with me. He grunted, looked away and shook his head. "Just tell me woman." His tone was lighter, more begging than demanding.

I swallowed, my eye lids fluttering as I blinked and I took a deep breath. "She told me you were unable to have sex." I whispered, drawing my eyes away from his and staring down at my hands.

After I told him, he stomped into the dark room with the small cot inside. I did not see him when I woke up, I had not changed out of my dress when I fell asleep.

I looked down at the ruffled dress, cursing myself for sleeping in it. Because Ivar was gone, I assumed he wouldn't have a dress for me to wear so I put on one of mine from England.

The men from the boat had brought my chest to Ivar's home last night during the feast, I smiled to myself as I pulled out one of my red dresses. It was simpler than my others and I wouldn't mind if it got dirty.

It still had not registered in my brain the seriousness of my situation, my thoughts on being married to a violent man for the rest of my life were calm and I don't think I know how to react to it yet.

I had my hand on the door when I froze, remembering the only two people who knew my language were both individuals that I did not want to be near. Margretthe's message still confused me.

She seemed sort of happy that I was aware of it now, but I still do not believe it to be true. Ivar had called her a whore, it shocked me he would use such words for his brother's wife.

I know Ubbe respected me, he seemed sad that I would have to marry Ivar, "You're loss of innocence", is what my sister cried to me about. She valued her fair sister above all else and she made sure I knew that.

A knock on the door brought me away from my thoughts, and I was still standing next to the door when it sounded. I cracked the door, then opened it fully when I saw it was Lagertha and Torvi with a few other women. They gave me warm smiles and beckoned me out to follow them.

Again with the broken French, "Prepare... Wedding." Where the only real words Lagertha said, I smiled, my brows furrowed in confusion before I nodded my head, smiling.

I shut the door behind me, Lagertha pulled on my arm, holding me close next to her. I dreaded not knowing her language, I had a month to learn or at least try but I insisted it would be fine. As if a language barrier wouldn't cause any problems.

I kept my eyes down as we walked through the muddied town, various townspeople staring openly as the shield maidens escorted me. A few times I looked up, only to be met with the narrowed eyes of Vikings.

I had no idea what the standards were for a pagan wedding, no doubt much different than a Christian wedding. For example; a cross, a priest, anointing, and reciting prayers.

I dodged puddles of mud and followed the queen up the steps of a small home near the woods. The door creaked open and the translator was inside, a different one though.

Ragnar had brought this man to Paris with him, and this wanderer explained that he was neutral. Now that this odd looking man was back in Kattegat, he was being put back into use by translating.

I took a seat in front of his and the shield maidens remained outside except for Lagertha. There were a few other women entering the room from a separate room. They had red paint on their faces and black chalk surrounding their eyes.

One woman was holding a dress, pure white with a halo of twigs and flowers placed on top of it. Lagertha said something, gesturing to the dress and then looking at the translator. I looked at him expectantly.

"They are going to clean and dress you now." He said and I stood up, the queen guiding me to a room. The room had a metal tub off to the side and steam slowly rose to the ceiling. I looked around awkwardly as they waited for me to remove my dress and shoes.

The only two women that have ever bathed me were my mother and my old maid who I made stop when I turned fifteen so you can imagine my surprise when the painted women went to work scrubbing me completely.

I finally pushed them away when they insisted on rag drying my entire body and did it myself in private thanks to a curtain. The dress was slid onto me and they stitched the parts that were too loose.

I had no garments underneath which I thought was completely absurd, the feeling of being completely naked under a dress did not make me feel comfortable to say the least.

They sat me on a stool and stood around me with bowls or string and began putting my hair in braids, drawing runes in a line from my bottom lip to my chin. My brown hair was strung up in several intricate designs and knots.

They smudged black around my eyes just like theirs and then took to my hands and removed all dirt from under my nails that might have accumulated. I was surprised with how gentle they were being with me, they all had strong stern features and sharp noses.

All very beautiful, nothing at all like the screaming shield maidens I saw at my home gate covered in my peoples blood. Once they finished my appearance they took a clear fluid from a bowl and touched my neck, wrists and some parts of my legs with a few drops of it.

It smelled amazing, almost like a perfume but it was applied similarly to how a person is anointed. "What is that?" I asked, looking at them all and pointing at the bowl then they all looked at the translator. "A scent?" He replied with a shrug.

After an hour of what seemed like endless translating of rules of a North wedding, I was allowed some alone time in the bedroom of this random house they brought me to.

I looked around, eyeing the bed that was begging me to take a nap but instead going to the mirror. I didn't look bad, I never thought braids would look so good on me.

My mind finally drifted to my future husband, dear Ivar. His strange temper and irritable mood swings made me just want to die. Knowing that I'm about to swear my life over to a man, who probably lacks the proper qualities to bear children, and has the worst anger issues ever is just great.

Ivar wasn't even the slightest bit ugly, which made it harder for me to swallow the fact that he was insane.

I clenched the shield in my hands, huffing at the weight but keeping my eyes on the shield maidens circling me and the clamor in the great hall coming from the townsfolk who supported this merge of kingdoms.

There was music that could barely be heard over the cheering, it was ethereal, enchanting, and echoed in the long room. My breathing was ragged and I was struggling to keep my feet planted and not run out of here.

I lowered the shield, holding it in front of me and the group of shield maidens slowly parted and one handed a shield to the violent man approaching me. My mind was racing, trying to remember whatever Lagertha had told me via translator.

Ivar stood directly in front of me now, looking down at me with the most dangerous expression I'd ever seen him give me. Though it wasn't quite a look of anger, more like want or neediness.

A metal sword was put in my hands and the shield was taken, and Ivar had his own sword too now. I held the sword up, facing it with his and a man covered in white and black paint on his face sprayed blood onto our faces.

We made promises, recited old Norse and I thanked God for helping me remember the words, and then he took our swords and the next thing I knew Ivar was kissing me.

The hands on my hips and his nose brushing against mine sent my senses into overload and my eyes closed in a panic and my mind jumbled, immediately forgetting the next steps.

But did I really need to follow a guide when he was kissing me? My hands shook as I placed them on either side of his face, the scruff of his short facial hair scratching at my hands and my lips involuntarily danced back with his.

He picked me up, carefully spinning me as our lips were interlocked. When my feet hit the ground and he pulled his head away from mine, I moved closer, not wanting to break the kiss but chose to pull away shortly after.

He held me next to him, one hand on my waist against his and the people all cheered, I watched his face. Focused and narrowed, glancing down at me and then looking away, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. The sudden reminder of how kissing Ivar felt made me tense up, a blush heating my cheeks and a twinge hit my stomach.

The feast was huge, many options of food and drink were displayed everywhere in the long room but I resisted the urge to pile them all on my plate. I was lucky the women who had prepared me gave me food, I was sitting in that stool for hours.

I sat next to Ivar at the head of the table in the long room and we were immediately draped with the pelt of a bear and he shifted closer to me, his shoulder pressing comfortably into mine and his brothers Ubbe and Hvitserk sat next to us.

They're glowing eyes watching me as their lips moved incoherently to Ivar who seemed undeniably bothered by what they were saying. He sighed and turned his head to me, "Are you ready to leave?" He whispered close to my ear.

Hvitserk narrowed his eyebrows and scoffed, looking over his shoulder and I nodded my head. Ivar shoved the pelt away, grabbing his crutch that he hasn't used for the whole ceremony, and then held my waist as we walked out of the long room followed by whoops and cheers.

We stepped off the short stairs of the long room and we were immediately met with the sharp and chilly air of Kattegat. His hand swiftly raised around my shoulders and held me tighter against him.

I placed one arm around his torso, holding onto him with one hand and lifting my dress with the other to prevent it getting any dirtier. I glanced up at my now husband, a look of wonder resting on my face due to how neutral he was being.

He seemed upset but not at me, perhaps it has something to do with what his brothers were saying. I can imagine the stress of overbearing siblings, Gisla was not always so loving and caring.

When I was younger it was all about teaching me to be a princess, and I understand that but she put me through so much. I think it was because our mother was gone and no one was responsible enough to really raise me as a daughter of a king.

She was too hard on herself and I regret not letting her know how much I appreciate her sacrifices before I had been shipped away. I don't expect her to be angry with our father forever, she loves him and will learn that I am just as fine and responsible as she is.

But brothers seem much different than sisters, thankfully I only have a brother-in-law and he was kind enough, but the sons of Ragnar, the ones who always got the most blood on their faces in battle, they must be hard on Ivar.

Because Ubbe is Margretthe's husband I wonder if he knew that Ivar could supposedly "not bear children", and if he did, did he even care enough to protect his youngest brother's reputation?

Ivar opened the door for me and I brushed past him into our home. He shut the door and walked past me, removing his pelt coat and then he was about to shuffle into the smaller room, muttering a goodnight but I quickly stopped him.

"Wait," I started, my hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, eyebrows raised in question. "Why do you sleep in there?" I asked, my tone was soft and he could tell I was being genuine.

His eyelids fluttered and he looked away, "Tell me, Ivar. " I said, wanting him to look at me as I put my hand on the side of his face to make him face me. "You are disgusted by me," he said, dipping his head down, "I do not wish to make you uncomfortable by sleeping in the same bed as you."

"Ivar." I said incredulously, now putting both of my hands on either side of his face. "I am not one bit disgusted by you," I looked into his eyes, "What I said last night, I did not mean it."

His expression softened and I felt the skin on his face warm, "Really?" He whispered and I shook my head. "I was upset it was not right of-" my sentence was muffled by his chest as he wrapped his arms around me, poking his head into the crook of my neck.

[retrointhenow]

Broken Barrier : Peter Pan X Reader

Author's Notes: This is a story based off one of my recent tiktoks. My tiktok is retrointhenow, the same as my tunblr here! I have tried shifting before and have yet to be successful. I don't have tips for shifting. I'm also not interested in making a part two for this so please don't ask.

---

"Come on." I groaned staring at my ceiling. It's been about a week since my last shift to Neverland. Things went exactly as I wanted them, I set my timeline as a nice calm period. I had everything I wanted. The boys were nice, the mermaids haven't tried to drown me yet, and life was good. Recently I've had trouble shifting back, time moved slowly in Neverland compared to my actual reality, but I think Peter is starting to catch on.

There was a two month break between shifts and Peter heavily questioned where I was. Thankfully I was able to blame the met,aids but I couldn't use that excuse again. Sometime I forget that the language dialect is different that what I'm use to so I'll slip up when I'm talking. I think that's part of what gives me away. At least I wrote down in my scripts that my clothing was different.

Finally I was able to relax and dream of Neverland. It's hard to describe how I get there. But it's like someone turns on a light and then I'm there.

The island was hot and humid today. I analyzed the terrain surrounding me and noticed that I wasn't to far from dead man's peak. A long hike back to base camp. Without a doubt Peter knew I have arrived. He knew everything that happened on his island.

"Y/n ? That you?" I heard someone call. I walked toward the voice and Devin ran around a tree.

"Oh hey Dev! Beautiful day today isn't it ?" I smiled and joined him on his duties. Devin was my best friend, without me writing that in. He was the first to greet me and actually welcome me to the island.

The boys were a little skeptical about a girl arriving in Neverland. Of course Wendy was there, but Peter only kept her as collateral for the Darling boys. Peter had no agenda for me though.

"Don't tell him I said this. But I think Pan has been worried about you." Devin picked some berries.

"How so ?" I worked at another bush. Of course I wanted Peter to like me, but I decided to let it happen naturally. It's my own desired reality where I could control anything but I wanted something to feel real. Besides, I want to know how he would really feel about me.

"He's been running around the island searching for you. He's had quite the bad attitude as well." He frowned and stood up. "If I didn't know better, I'd say Pan cares about you." I passed my bowl to him and rolled my eyes.

"I would like to think so, but Peter has quite the attitude without me being present. Besides, we was probably doing his island perimeter checks." My heart swelled with joy at the though. Could he actually like me ? No, no he's too busy. But Devin wouldn't lie to me. Then again he is a boy. Best not to get my hopes up.

Together Devin and I made to long trek back to the camp. We talked about what happened since I left last. Fortunately he was easy to gaslight and confuse about my whereabouts. I just took pieces of what he said and included them into 'my' story about where I was. From what I gathered Felix has been running the camp as Pan hasn't been around recently. Could that be because of me ? No, I'm stretching to read between the lines.

"Hey Y/n, long time no see huh?" Felix greeted me. I felt myself flush with worry.

"Not such a long time. I'm never too far away." I tried to play it off. It's hard to live two realities simultaneously. Sometimes I mix up my realities and say the wrong thing. One time I was talking to my real world friends about Felix, forgetting that he doesn't truly exist.

We all hung around camp for a while, tidying up and finishing up the daily chores Pan had set for the day. Pan had yet to make his grand appearance since I've shown up.

"Rumor had it, Y/n, that Pan is avoiding you." Jack, one of the older boys, nudged me.

"Huh? What do you mean avoiding me ?" I picked my head up from the fire and looked at the lost boy.

"I don't know, but no one has seen you for a good two days. Since then he's had this twisted look on his face. Kinda perplexed." He threw sticks into the fire.

You know the saying " speak of the devil and he shall appear"? I tend to think that's true, cause right after Jack said that Pan waltzed in. Everyone went silent, only the crackling of the bonfire could be heard, Aline with the island creatures too.

"Carry on." Pan said. Slowly the noise picked back up. He walked to his tent. The boys started dancing as the sound of the Pan pipe started. Peter played a slow and mesmerizing rendition of the iconic 3 note Peter Pan melody.

"You should go talk to him." Felix sat next to me. I peeled my eyes open as I started to fall asleep.

"About what ?" Pan continued to play soothing songs. He knows how much I love listening to him play.

"Come on. I'm not stupid. I know you like him, and I believe with a best friends intuition that he likes you to." He gave me a comforting smile.

"It would never work anyway." I shrugged.

"You never know. He fronts whoever he's near you. Tries to act tough. But behind closed huts, he thinks about you." Felix stood up and brought me with him. "If things don't work out you can alway, according to Pan "go back to your world". " I felt my body stiffen. No way. I mean, yes Pan somehow knows everything, but he can't know about my world. Or that I even exist outside of Neverland. Might have to make a note about that when I wake up.

I drug myself to Pan's hut and nervously opened the tarp.

"Need some company?" I poked my head in.

"I think you're gonna come in anyway." He sat his flute down and walked to his desk.

"Observant I see." I fully stepped into his room. I had seen his hut before but never fully pictured it. He had a small bed and a decent desk cluttered with papers. He whisked his arm over the desk and the parchment disappeared, most likely to his desk in the Thinking Tree. The thinking tree is his actual home, he only stays in the camp hut for temporary reasons.

"Is there something I can help you with ?" He sighed and turned towards me. Looking directly at me for the first time today. His Forrest green eyes searched my being. I made my way around the hut before sitting on the twin sized bed.

"You haven't spoken to me today." I crossed my legs and cleaned the dirt from under my fingernails. I heard the creaking of his wooden desk from him sitting on it.

"Where do you go ? When you leave here ?"

"I don't-"

"Bullshit." He stopped me. "I know everything Y/n. You often forget that." I folded my hands together and chewed on my lip.

"Something's are unknowable. Even unexplainable." I held my breath and hoped he wouldn't be able to figure anything out. He cracked a smile, he got me. I know magic can pass through the fairytale realms, even to a place where magic certainly doesn't exist ?

"I know you're not really here. In Neverland. You go somewhere else when you disappear for days at a time. Especially that time you left for two weeks. I feel it." He hopped off the desk and walked towards me.

"I'm right here. Sitting in front of you. You're looking right at me." I challenged him. If I learned one thing, it was how to battle with Pan, verbal and physical. I felt my face heat up, my tell.

"I might be looking at you Y/n, but I'm not seeing you. You have this thousand yard stare and sometimes it's like you're not even here." Thousand yard stare ? I just get lost in my own mind sometimes. Unfortunately I fell weak to Peter Pan, no matter what. I could hang with Peter and his games just long enough but I always fell short just before the finish line. Always fumbling the bag.

"You always knew too much for your own good." I smiled sadly. Would I break his heart if I told him he wasn't real in my life ? Even though I had been visiting Neverland for months it felt like years. I felt like I had a second family, I had real fun being with the boys, living in a land of magic was indeed enchanting.

"I know that if we lived in the same reality that maybe we could be together like you want." He stroked my hair and lifted my head to look at him. I tried my hardest to not look at him. He knew, and it broke my heart instead. "Look at me Y/n." I slowly dragged my eyes to look at him, tears filled my waterline.

"Do you think that could actually happen ? Us being together if I was truly here ?" My voice faltered with each word. It feels wrong to ask that. Knowing it's not real to me. I have a real life, not this made up fabricated dream world.

He had moved his index finger from under my chin to my cheek to cup it. He gently stroked his thumb across the area, catching a stray tear. "I think friends don't look at each other the way we do unless we wanted something more." His voice was soft and soothing.

I leaned into his touch and closed my eyes. Everything felt so real. "It could never work. It wouldn't be real. For either of us." His other hand held mine.

"For what it's worth. It feels real when we're together."

So was it wrong for us to lead each other on like that ? Pretending what we had was real ? Maybe so, but neither of us had been happier than in the moments we spent together.

---

But eventually I went back to my reality and left Peter in his. I still get visions in my dream of him, but that's all they are. I haven't even tried to shift in months. But we knew this would happen at some point. You can't postpone the inevitable. Now it's time to move on. Move on from something that never truly happened.

Peter's POV

"She's not coming back. Is she?" Felix stood next to me, staring at her empty hut.

"No. But she'll never forget us. We're always going to be a part of her." Felix nodded and walked off to join the other boys. I'll find where she came from, I'll search for her and bring her back.

Until then I'll watch her hut. Waiting for her to walk out, waiting for her to come home.

[emeraldkniight]

Hiya! May I request a Hal Jordan with a shy fem or gn reader that he wants to bring out of their shell? Can be fluff or smut, I like both :3 Thank you so much! I’m glad you love Hal as much as I do!

BLUSHING !

hal jordan x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. . . fluff. A cliché because I like them. Hal bothers the reader because she blushes very often. Age gap? (9/10 years). Unrealistic and fanciful references to the operation of what is probably a military aircraft, try to ignore them to make the fantasy more enjoyable. Kisses.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . I enjoyed writing this request. I was getting a bit tired of the constant smut stuff, so I wrote this as a refreshing break from that. I hope you enjoy it. <3

Throughout their lives, many people have had a friend who used to be completely shy and introverted. That person you had to speak for because they couldn't say more than two words without getting nervous. Unfortunately, you were that person, and Dick Grayson was the best friend of the Titans who rushed to your rescue when you were forced to socialize.

On a mission alongside the Justice League, you couldn't help but feel intimidated. They were all the greatest heroes in the world, the epitome of heroism that you aspired to become. In comparison, you were a rookie with little experience. Even Dick, who was almost the same age as you, often had much more experience. In this regard, you couldn't help but feel an intense sense of nervousness that wouldn't let you keep your composure.

You stayed behind Dick and Kory throughout the entire meeting, trying to blend in. You feared that at any moment you might be forced to step forward and say something, so you just stayed behind the couple until you had to return to the tower.

— Any questions about the plan? — Dick concluded, crossing his arms.

— Just one. — Said an unfamiliar voice. — Is the new recruit hiding behind you coming to say hello?

Quickly, your cheeks flushed intensely. This was what you feared: being forced to introduce yourself when all you wanted was to stay in your space behind everyone, unnoticed.

With your head down, your cheeks flushed, and your nerves on edge, you leaned forward to answer as best you could.

— H-hello.

Once the guys moved away, you could briefly see that it had been Green Lantern who had dared to ask if he could say hello. Barely had you responded to him when a bold smile spread across his face, making you feel much more flushed than before.

— Well... — Dick congratulated you quietly as he positioned himself again as a barrier, covering you. —Does anyone have any doubts about the plan?

You kept thinking about Green Lantern in the coming days, occasionally while hugging the pillow. You thought he was attractive, but his flirtatious demeanor could be intimidating, even more so than Batman's, and that's considering you had only exchanged a word with him.

When you thought about it properly, you felt overwhelmed by the questionable age difference. He could easily be up to 10 years older than you, but that couldn't stop you from being attracted to him. However, if just saying hello made you so nervous, how were you supposed to flirt with an older man? You were pathetic.

When you returned to the Watchtower to complete a mission, he stood next to you and looked you up and down. You were incredibly surprised by the height difference between the two of you.

When you noticed his presence watching you, your cheeks flushed a deep red. He just chuckled with a hint of tenderness, which made you feel even more embarrassed.

— You blush easily, don't you? — He asked you kindly. — How cute.

You couldn't answer, the words got stuck in your throat. You tried to make your cheeks stop burning, but they only grew redder. You wanted to run and hide, but you didn't have the courage, so you just stood there.

— You don't have to be ashamed, honey. I don't bite. Not all the time, of course — He joked.

A strand of hair fell across your face, obstructing your view, but you didn't notice until Hal's hand brushed it aside, tucking it behind your ear. You dared to glance at him for a second; he was too handsome to assume he was flirting instead of just being friendly.

— I…

— What did you say, honey? I can't hear you when you mumble. — He smiled at you.

Finally, you started to listen to Dick giving his speech about the mission for the Titans and the league, but you could only think about Hal. It was the only thing you could think about during the two-hour meeting.

He was incredibly outgoing compared to you. Maybe that was one of the reasons he was so attractive: his confidence, his charm, and how outgoing he was. You hadn't talked to him much, just twice, but you were drawn to his energy, and you just wanted to know what it would be like to be with someone like that, but not anyone, just him.

Your mind wandered into practically unreal romantic fantasies. Perhaps it was obvious that, due to past experiences, you had little confidence in love and that's why you hoped that he would be unique among others. However, you would hit yourself on the head with your own fist when you remembered that he probably wasn't even interested in you.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. You felt like an idiot.

Furthermore, it was most likely that once that mission was over, Hal Jordan wouldn't hear from you again until the Titans were needed again. So maybe, it was perhaps naive to think or hope to run into him somewhere outside of work. What started as shyness turned into a huge ball of limitations trying to convince you that feeling attraction was a very bad idea. However, you kept blushing three times as much as usual every time you saw him, every single time!

Your conversations between you began to flow more naturally. Hal, being the flatterer and flirt that he is, did everything he could to bring you out of your shell. In particular, he had developed an obsession with making you blush, mentioning everything from simple things like how beautiful you were when you blushed to more vulgar things, but still eliciting that feeling of attraction in you.

One day, you were fortunate enough to be completely alone in some area of the base. Since everything was located in space, you were lucky to see the stars from a better position. They looked so close that you thought you could pick them up with your fingers.

— Have you ever traveled by plane? — he asked, standing in the doorway, admiring how fascinated you were watching the stellar spectacle.

— Several times. These are some of the advantages Dick has as Batman's son.

He smiled, approaching you and extending his hand for you to take.

— Come with me.

You followed him blindly, taking his hand. It wasn't long before both of you were on land, more precisely in a city called 'Coast City', right in front of 'Ferris Aircraft', where Hal stopped and removed the ring from his finger to tuck it inside his pocket. Everything was starting to get more confusing with each step.

— Hal... — You murmured with a blush. — What does that mean? I told you, I've flown in an airplane before.

— But you’ve never flown with me.

That's his line. The most memorable phrase that anyone who has spent time with him has heard him say. It made you feel special, even though deep down you knew you weren't. But flying with him excited you so much that it didn't matter that you weren't the first to go with him.

After bribing the security guard at the entrance with the excuse, "Do it for the beautiful lady," you were both in the air. You marveled at the view of the night sky from the co-pilot's window, feeling the adrenaline rush through your veins from the speed, which made you even more excited. Perhaps it was this that made you smile from ear to ear, as you had never done before. Your fingers danced to the rhythm of your companion's excitement.

— How is it possible that everything seems more exciting from up here? — You asked him, completely amused by the experience.

— How is it possible that I had to take you on a tour of the sky to make you lose your shyness?

In a hurried impulse, you grabbed Hal by the chin to turn his face towards you until you could see his eyes, and without much thought, you pressed your lips against his. It was a swift motion, but you kissed him intensely until it was necessary to let go so he could focus back on the road.

— Maybe the adrenaline is giving me the confidence to do whatever it takes — you said, but a few seconds later you blushed. — I'm not sure how long that will last.

Quickly, he moved his fingers to a bold red button in the center of the control panel labeled "Autopilot”. Then he settled into his seat, and you leaned back against the armrest. He was very close to you, watching you with those bright brown eyes you loved so much.

— Then we should make the most of every minute, right?

Your cheeks flushed as usual, which made him smile. He leaned down to your neck and kissed it with great devotion, making you tingle. Your hands ran down his back, caressing his aviator jacket, the one you once dreamed of wearing when he had the desire to lend it to you, infused with his scent.

Minutes later, he kissed your lips. He caressed them with his own, exploring you entirely, leaving no corner untested. His lips felt moist and soft, just as you had imagined they would. His minty breath slid down your throat as Hal rejoiced that your lips tasted like cherry lip gloss, delicious and addictive.

It was not only the first time you kissing inside a plane in the middle of the sky, leaning back in the co-pilot's seat, but it was also the first time you found yourself in this situation. For a moment, as his fingers pressed against your thigh, you wondered if you were doing the right thing or if you should tell him to stop and land. But honestly, everything seemed easier from up there: with Hal Jordan at your feet and a starry sky around you, it was easy to feel like you were in control.

— Have I told you how cute you are when you're not afraid of anything?

It was the first time you had gone this far with someone, but you didn't want to stop. Your blush and embarrassment wouldn't be able to defeat you this time.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

CKB hear me out. Haters will say it's fake but ....... blanche youngest child. The Victorian maid garb? He's tired of being in the shadows of those before him and is trying to set his own identity. Extreme violence? A big ol temper tantrum and cry for attention. I dare say i would lean on him being youngest child just because Lev fits the disaster middle child ALL too well 😮‍💨.

I see why some will say Lev as the youngest but i feel like he's suuuuch a middle kid like, even if he's stupid, he'd having a good time and that's all he cares about. I feel like youngests are actually more deceitful and tricky wheras middle kids are pretty true to themselves and more easygoing? Like them youngest kids are used to sneaking around and just so cunning, showing different faces (not unlike blanche who does a 180)

Like blanche, yves can also fit all 3 perfectly. He does kinda seem like the overstressed, overworked, will nag out of love, can never relax, will shoulder responsibility for you eldest child (i feel like eldest children also have a really clean aesthetic? Middle kids are either cozy wear or pop the Fuck off. And youngest kids are always flashy but in their own way and my god if that isnt blanche 💀)

Also i feel like eldest kids (yves) have a great fear or failure and losing things so theyre lowkey control freaks. Youngest kids (blanche) are oddly possessive and entitled like they think the last slice of pizza is their god given right. And middle kids (lev) are so used to losing things that they get obsessive over the things they do have, and a bit pathetic abt it if they feel it slipping away.

Youngest kid blanch really does seem like a big brat (but who cares) to me. Like he sees reader as his dead pet hamster that he accidentally squeezed to death trying to hug it but he refuses to believe it's dead so he keeps leaving food out for it and stroking it. Middle kid Lev sees you as a cute hamster and buys you cool wheels and a rolling ball and toys and sleeps with you in his bed. Eldest Yves will not allow anything to happen to pet hamster so he has a seperate temperature controlled room for it, homemade pellets, probably wipes hammies ass after it poops and everything.

This was just my random musing though and im excited to see what you end up making the order!!

Also i think i was ur 🐰 anon and i used to send in all those theories for language barrier LOL. Ummmmm the bunny thing *totally* didn't have to do with Lev, so, uh, don't tell Blanche, my latest hyperfixation 🤭 (or Cyprus because goddamn-)

🐰 anon

🐰 anon also said: Oh! Also feel like blanche would be a lot younger than the other two. Like modern au or whatever if they were all together, yves moved out when blanche was a kid (because he was independent) lev was never home bc he was always out and just kinda ended up living w one of his friends (never 'officially' moved out but he's living elsewhere) and followed the party life, and blanche was probably raised and spoiled by a family elder, making him feel like an 'old soul born in the wrong generation'. But hold onnn i didnt know therewas a blanche pt 2, lemme go read that and see if it changes things LOL 🐰 anon

🐰 anon also said: no blanche is actually so middle/youngest child coded it's insane bc i refuse to let go of middle child lev (actually i need to give bunny a reread before that too, and ofc more content on him when it comes out lol) but brooooo them youngest kids be weird as FUCK like, smth abt blanche feels like he's playing dressup, pretending and trying so hard to be this old fashioned adult gentleman, meanwhile yves actually is more calculated, composed and knows what to do for his shit. I actually initially thought of yves being the youngest but i feel like blanche being youngest fits so much better imo. Like blanche is just here to do his own shit, he's a bit selfish, and pushes for hinself. Yves puts his responsibility first and pushes for reader. Plus yves has that blonde mom in target drinking a coffee doing 3 hours of shopping in 12 minutes before her next hot yoga class and thats soooo eldest child coded. Idk something abt blanche as a person (not a character) seems so underdeveloped and child like in a disturbing yet innocent way? 🐰 anon

🐰 anon also said: "unromancable, unfuckable weirdo." No im sorry Blanche is actually the youngest child Bunny anon

Holy fuckin shit bunny anon always comign in with a banger , yess that's what im talking about them tasty brain chews i like i like

shid man like u really lay out their vibes and everything and even imagined them in modern AUs , presented evidence and cited your source like what the fuck this is such a good analysis like damn bro i fr appreciate the enthusiasm

Like all the stuff you sair fr made sense even to someone who has no siblings, its as if i had those little shits living in the same house as me and i observed the dynamic, like yeah damn Yves really fit the oldest child

Its really fitting cause if you think about it, they're all like centuries old or whatever and both Yves and Leveret are pretty youthful looking with no grey hairs- they went on their own quests to preserve their looks, Whereas Blanche is considered to be the most unkempt out of the three with his salt and pepper hair growing uncontrollably to the back of his knees, no manicures just natural long nails but he's still considered youthful cause ykno 50 year old looking man vs his actual 5 million year old age , but it just shows that he doesn't care about looking youthful as much as his older brothers

i notice the older siblings from other relatives and friends they tend to looksmaxx more than the younger ones. and they try to keep up trends, like Yves and Leveret is pretty modern whereas Blanche is fuckin ancient with his stuff, mannerisms and dressing up

and yes he is ironically the most immature (as in childlike) of them all, even tho leveret is like spontaneous and has his slipups, but damn bunny anon like ur analysis is always bangers like what the hell bro i love them and i love you

[skepsiss]

It's Snowing in Hawkins; Winter Exchange - Batboys

Here is my fic for the BatBoys Winter Exchange! @batboysxprompts I hope whoever submitted this request is pleased with what I wrote. I was a little liberal with the suggestion, but I think I followed along with Eddie's competitive streak like they wanted. I hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: This is all fluff. Steve goes over to visit Eddie during a heavy snow in Hawkins and gets roped into helping him build a snow fort. Both of them have been inching toward a romance for months now, and Steve adores how innocent and young their relationship feels. It’s the start of something real tonight, and it makes Steve feel brilliantly happy. 

Season: Winter

Quote: The kids at the trailer park are having a snowman competition. Eddie joins in to one up them

Song: My Chemical Romance - "Every Snowflake is Different (just like you)"

AU/Place: Trailer park

Rating: T Words: 3,609 CW: Aggressive/degrading language toward the poor, slightly mature language/themes, mention of skin grafts/scaring, mention of mobility challenges from injuries

It’s snowing in Hawkins, and the fat, fluffy flakes caught on the windowpanes and the aspens of Mirkwood. Four children roam the deep fields of Forest Hills Trailer Park, gathering snow and shrieking their laughter skyward. The end of winter break is but a week away and time must be utilized well or be lost. A fifth joins them and the festivities begin. 

–

It’s late afternoon and the sun is already starting its slow descent over the little town of Hawkins. It gets dark, fast, in the wintertime in Indiana, and the chill becomes biting as the wind rolls off the Appalachian mountains. 

Steve had gotten used to this kind of cold; he had grown up in it after all, and despite the foot of snow he had still decided to trudge his way toward the trailer park. It wasn’t smart to drive in this kind of weather, and really, Steve lived fairly close to the park if he wasn’t being lazy. His proximity to ‘Mirkwood’ had been a black stain on his mind ever since Barb’s death–before that as well. His father had always hated the fact that their property backed up onto public land and just anyone could walk into their yard. That had been a point of contention in the Harrington household, even though Steve quietly noted that his father never went ahead and put up a fence. Likely, it had just been something for his father to complain about, and his intentions to erect a barrier between himself and ‘those varmints in their mobile homes’ had been all for show in the end.  

It was convenient for Steve now, though, since he could walk out his back door and to Eddie’s house in ten minutes flat—a bit more with all this snow.

Steve had never lived this close to a friend before, and it made impromptu visits that much easier. It also spoke to what lengths Steve was willing to go despite only being ‘friends’ with Eddie. 

They had started hanging out nearly a year ago now—just three more months, and it would be spring break again, even if Steve quietly dreaded the second coming of the holiday. Nothing had happened since March of ‘86 though, and Steve was finally starting to believe that the ‘other shoe’ wasn’t going to drop after all. He had been proven wrong before, though, if Halloween of ‘84 said anything about the pattern of these supernatural pains in the neck. 

He was optimistic though… if only because he was willing it.

After the trauma of spring break, it had been difficult (like it always was) to fall back into routines. He had watched Eddie struggle the most with that and while his injuries had been nothing to sniff at, once he was stitched up and given some blood so he wasn’t going to die from blood loss he was… fine. The wounds had scarred, of course, and Eddie had more scars than wounds because they had needed a skin graft for the larger bites. It was sort of difficult to stitch someone back together when their skin was minced like that—or at least that was what Dustin had crudely explained. 

Robin had asked him last week when he was going to stop flirting and actually do something about it. 

Eddie had struggled, and Steve had found it was easier to talk to Eddie than it had been to speak to most of the others, with all this Upside Down crap.

Robin was fantastic—he adored Robin, and he talked to her more than anyone, but he never felt like he was quite on her level when it came to compartmentalizing all the trauma. The kids were the same way; they were all so smart, and they could puzzle away or focus on their nerd hobbies to distract themselves from the abuse. Steve on the other hand… Steve’s hobbies allowed for far too much space to think, so it was hard to escape the memories.

Eddie, similarly, seemed unable to just quietly shut up and focus on something. It came at him like waves, and Steve had noticed that he had been distracting himself almost as much as Steve needed. Maybe he was lying to himself about that, though. Maybe he was just making up excuses to be around Eddie because he had found—after everything was said and done—that he really enjoyed spending time with the Freak. 

Steve hadn’t been such a dunce not to realize that he had feelings for Eddie, but his feelings felt so juvenile compared to how he usually reacted around women. It felt innocent and ephemeral in a way that reminded him of being thirteen. It was all small touches and little smiles, and Eddie seemed to fall into step with that behaviour easily. Eddie was older than him… but in a lot of ways he seemed less mature. That, in turn, made Steve want to slow everything down, too. 

He’d bob and Eddie would weave, and they’d sit and watch movies together without saying a word about the fact that Eddie’s feet were propped in Steve’s lap. Or they’d go for a swim and all they would do was smile when they touched hands on the pool edge.

It was just so goddamn innocent… and Steve found himself liking the slow roll of whatever this was. He wasn’t exactly convinced that Eddie liked him back that way—Eddie was a physical guy with everyone, but he didn’t seem to pause and consider his contact with everyone like he did with Steve.

Or so Steve liked to think.

Steve rounded on the trailer park and shivered slightly as he brought his shoulders up to his ears. The forest was less densely packed with snow than the open field of the trailer park, and he struggled a bit until he made it to a worn footpath through the snow. He started getting a view of the open expanse beyond the mobile homes, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked.

Steve heard the laughter before he saw them, but as he made his way toward Eddie’s trailer, he could see some of the kids traipsing through the snow and rolling snowballs. He paused and watched them—Max, Lucas, Mike, and Eleven—and smiled a bit at how carefree they looked.

Max of course was struggling to move through the snow, but she was making the best of it and was commanding Lucas to do the heavy lifting while she took frequent breaks. Comparatively, Mike was taking it slow and stopping to explain exactly how to pack and roll the snow properly to Eleven, instructing her on snowman building.

“You’re doing it all wrong, Wheeler!”

Steve paused as he walked up the first step of the Munson’s trailer, and then hesitated as he caught snippets of conversation.

“It’s not dry enough snow for that, you’ve got to squeeze with the body!”

Steve could recognize that diction anywhere, and he stepped to the side of the trailer to see Eddie pointing at Mike and Lucas. They all seemed to be having fun, but there was definitely an air of combativeness to the scene.

“What’re you guys up to?” Steve asked, feeling like a dad talking like that to all of them.

They all turned, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at the way Eddie beamed at him. 

“Good, good,” Eddie was saying before he said hello as he walked over to Steve.

Steve half waved as Lucas raised a hand to him, only for Max to scold him for losing momentum and letting the snowball he was rolling crack.

“You can help me out,” Eddie declared as he grabbed Steve by his forearm and started pulling him into the field.

“We’re building snowmen,” Eleven said happily, smiling at Steve as she helped Mike lift one of the large balls to place on top of another.

“Or at least we are,” Mike added as he looked toward the pile that Steve was currently being pulled toward.

“Shut your pie-hole, Wheeler. This’ll be a feat of engineering,” Eddie hissed, letting go of Steve and then handing him an empty bucket.

“Yeah, sure,” Max condescended, turning to focus on her own snowman.

Steve stood there a bit dumbfounded as Eddie picked up a small trowel and handed that over as well.

Eddie was doing that thing where he was so focused he forgot that not everyone thought the same way as him. Usually, Steve found it endearing—and he did right now as well—but he was equally confused and Eddie seemed to want him to be doing something.

“Uh…” Steve said quietly, looking at the bucket and the shovel he was now holding. “What am I doing with these?”

Eddie only took a moment to pause and look at him before continuing his work.

“I’m making a snow-dome, Steve,” Eddie said distractedly, “I need snow.”

“Igloo,” Lucas corrected as he rolled a large snowball past them.

“It’s not an igloo!” Eddie declared. “First of all, it’s not ice, and second of all, it isn’t fucking square-ass blocks. Snow-dome, you twat. Steve! I need snow.”

Steve flinched slightly, not really expecting to be put to work so quickly upon arrival. He moved, though, choosing a relatively large patch of snow to start digging.

“No—” Eddie chastised, trudging over to him and pointing farther west. “Grab the snow from out there. And I need you to pack it in, man. Like, really pack it. I’ll assemble, you can… dig or whatever.”

Steve sighed but did as he was told, he walked farther into the field and started to scoop and shovel the snow into the bucket before bringing it back over to Eddie.

“So… why are we doing this?” Steve asked as he was handed an empty bucket and shooed away.

“Said I couldn’t…” Eddie muttered, concentrating again as he plunked down the full bucket of snow and began making the base of his ‘snow-dome.’

“Before…” Eddie muttered, focusing. “It’s a contest, man.”

He wasn’t explaining much, and Steve didn’t press the subject as he diligently scooped up snow and brought it back to Eddie until he was sweating from the effort. Eventually, he was told to stop and was sent toward the woods to gather ‘tinder’ for Eddie’s elaborate plan to thatch his snow-dome so it was more structurally sound. 

Really, Steve didn’t get it or understand Eddie’s vision, but he didn’t protest. It was a touch annoying to be trudging around in the snow though when he had expected to walk over here and share cocoa and maybe curl up on the couch with Eddie. He had been much more snugly with the cold weather and had started commenting freely on how warm Steve was. It was true, but it also felt like an excuse so they could press up against each other ‘innocently.’

“You’re not even close to being done,” Max said as she pressed two rocks into the head of her snowman.

Max and Lucas plodded inside, and Steve watched as the trailer lights came on. 

Mike and Eleven were almost finished with their snowman as well, but Eleven seemed to be struggling with what she wanted to do with the face.

“You can’t rush perfection!” Eddie hollered as he began to leisurely weave the sticks Steve brought back into the ‘wall’ of his snow-dome.

“Perfection, sure,” Max said with a roll of her eyes. “Well, I’m freezing my ass off, so I’m going in. Come on, Lucas. We can judge the snowmen and the ‘snow-dome’ from the window.” 

Max’s mom must be working late again and though she would never complain, Steve knew that Max still struggled to do basic tasks around the house like prepping meals and cleaning. He could see Lucas readily putting a pot of water on the boil though and seeing to her needs. 

“So, what kind of contest is this?” Steve asked as he knelt in the snow with Eddie and began handing him sticks as he wove.

“Snowmen building,” Eddie answered simply, obviously concentrating.

“Well, this is the weirdest snowman I’ve ever seen,” Steve commented, looking up at the walls of Eddie’s snow-dome and wondering just how high he was planning to make it.

“No, well, obviously it’s not,” Eddie corrected, sounding annoyed that Steve didn’t understand. “The kids were building snowmen, and making a kind of contest about it, and I was going to show them up on that too, but… I don’t really remember how we got onto the topic, but one of those twerps said something about building a fort out of snow would be impossible, so it was like challenge accepted and boom, snow-dome.”

Steve listened quietly as he lazily handed over sticks to Eddie; well, at least he seemed energized by it and Steve didn’t really mind helping out, but it was starting to get dark already. How long were they going to be at this?

“We’re going in, Eddie,” Mike declared as he held Eleven’s hand and led her toward Max’s trailer. “You’re welcome to join when you finish.”

Mike seemed a bit awkward as he hovered, obviously not wanting to leave Eddie out here and wanting his attention. Eddie wasn’t even looking at him though and waved Mike off without a second thought.

“Yeah, later, Wheeler,” Eddie replied, waving over his shoulder at the teen.

“Bye, Steve,” Eleven said, waving at him. “I’m sure you can join too.”

Steve waved back lightly, smiling a bit forcefully at the teens. He appreciated the invite, but it felt a bit awkward to accept, plus, he had come over to spend time with Eddie.

“I need more snow,” Eddie declared, standing up as he started to pack the snow around the stick frame he had built. “We’re like… thatching this bitch. If we get it about—so—high, then we can start curving it inward to create the dome part. It’ll be more like a tapered cylinder, like a watch tower, but it’ll work.”

“Right,” Steve grunted as he stood up, grabbed the bucket again, and walked out into the snowy field. “I’ll be back then, Mr. Architect.”

Steve assisted diligently and didn’t complain as he brought back bucket after bucket full of snow and then stopped to help Eddie pack it all together. Eventually, Eddie was kneeling inside the dome and Steve was on the outside so they could sandwich the snow together and make it stick better.

It was nearly pitch black by the time they finished; it had stopped snowing a while ago, and the sky was clear enough to show the stars and the moon above. Their work was only being illuminated by the moon and the dim light coming from people’s trailers, but it left everything feeling rather private, and nostalgic.

“We gotta leave a hole at the top to let the air out,” Eddie declared, carefully packing the snow into place. Honestly, it looked like it was working and while Steve couldn’t say how long the walls would stay up, Eddie had succeeded in making a snow-dome. 

“Wanna check it out?” Eddie asked as he ducked down and looked at Steve through the small opening in the side of his dome.

“Uhh… sure,” Steve said, before crawling through the entrance. “Make room, wide-load.”

He was teasing of course because Eddie was ridiculously thin and all he really had to do was move over to the side to let Steve in.

“See?” Eddie indicated, gesturing around the dome, before laying on his back.

Steve mirrored Eddie’s position and lay beside him as he stared up at the ceiling of the dome.

“This better not fall on me,” Steve said lightly, having to adjust awkwardly and stick his feet out of the entrance in order to fit.

“Enjoy yourself for once, Harrington,” Eddie teased, before sighing and looking up through the hole in the roof.

It was pretty to look at, even if they only had a small window. You could make out the blackness of the sky and the little pinpricks of light dotting across the expanse, creating a sort of telescope effect.

Really, the only thing Steve could properly appreciate at the moment was being able to rest for the first time since he got here.

He glanced at Eddie, though, who was staring at the sky and breathing calmly—the little puffs of vapour floating away from his lips—a slight smile on his face. He looked peaceful—happy, too. Steve didn’t get to see Eddie pause all that often, and it was nice to see him enjoying the fruits of his labour.

“Thanks for helping out,” Eddie said idly, not looking away from the sky. He dropped his hand slowly and nudged up against the back of Steve’s hand.

“Yeah… of course,” Steve replied, finishing the motion and taking Eddie’s hand to hold. He returned his gaze to the roof, looking at the darkness and the moon that was slowly inching into view.

The two of them grew quietly again, and Steve could feel his sweat slowly starting to chill his body. They should head in soon, but it felt terribly romantic to be out here together now that they had finished Eddie’s snow-dome.

“Steve?” Eddie said suddenly, his voice quiet and distant sounding.

“Yeah, Eddie?” Steve asked, rolling his head to look at Eddie again. He was still staring up through the ceiling, but his smile had faded, and instead, he looked thoughtful as he breathed slowly. Even in the dull light, Steve could tell that his nose was red from the chill and snow had clumped in parts of his hair. He looked young… and there was a wanderlust to him that Steve envied. He liked looking at Eddie when he wasn’t moving around so frantically—the pause always made him look like an artist, and Steve found himself drawn to that. This contemplation that Steve didn’t think he had ever experienced for himself, but that he valued more than anything in others. 

“Do you like me?” Eddie asked, his tone quiet but lacking fear. They were still holding hands and Steve didn’t feel intimidated at all by answering him; they’d been inching toward this anyway, they just hadn’t said it out loud yet.

“… yeah,” Steve answered back, watching as Eddie slowly rolled his head so they were looking at one another.

Steve squeezed his hand and Eddie smiled, looking positively brilliant as he lay there.

“Me too,” Eddie sighed, which made Steve’s breath hitch slightly. It wasn’t always that Eddie looked so happy, and Steve felt softhearted being in the presence of Eddie’s bliss like this. 

Steve reached over slowly with his free hand and touched Eddie’s cheek, stroking along his jaw. It felt right to do this now, and Eddie seemed to have much the same idea as he rolled onto his side and let Steve guide him.

They both scanned each other’s expressions as Steve drew Eddie in closer, their noses brushing together first as Steve felt the sting of cold against his skin. Eddie seemed to be transfixed by him, and Steve could feel the world stopping around them as he sunk into the moment. It felt innocent and romantic, and Eddie seemed to hesitate not out of denial, but out of uncertainty. As if he wasn’t sure what to do at this point now that they were here.

Steve smiled lightly at that and closed the distance between them, kissing Eddie softly as he felt the other man draw in a breath. It was still cold out, but Steve felt a bloom of heat against his skin as their lips met and Steve guided them into a slow roll of their tongues.

At every junction, Eddie seemed to hesitate and then follow suit, marking his actions as inexperienced and timid. That felt like a paradox for Eddie, but Steve didn’t mind as he smiled into the contact and squeezed Eddie’s other hand with his.

They parted eventually, despite Steve staying tucked in close. He could hear Eddie breathing a bit hard as they continued to watch one another quietly.

“Was that…” Steve asked, swiping Eddie’s bangs out of his face. “Your first kiss?”

As if to answer him, Steve saw Eddie’s face turn beet red as he ducked down and away from Steve. He was hiding, and Steve felt his chest explode with adoration at the action.

“Shut up,” Eddie mumbled, hiding as he pressed his forehead against Steve’s chin.

Steve had to close his eyes from how adorable it was. How Eddie had rendered him positively smitten and made Steve’s whole body light up like a Christmas tree.

“Was it bad?” Eddie asked, sounding incredibly small as he continued to hide.

“No,” Steve sighed, sounding almost dreamy as he slid his hand to Eddie’s back and soothed him slightly. “No… just… gentle.”

Steve wasn’t sure how else to describe the contact, and he wouldn’t press Eddie on it any further, but judging from this very likely being Eddie’s first kiss… that probably also meant he was a virgin. A twenty-year-old metal head that was supposed to be the scourge of the devil himself… and Eddie had never so much as kissed someone before.

Steve pulled in a breath to steady himself, his entire body tingling with affection as he held Eddie and just let them lay there in the snow.

“Can we go in?” Eddie asked, still sounding shy. “I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Steve chuckled and let go of Eddie, rolling onto his back again.

“Yeah, course,” he offered, sighing happily and stealing one last look at the moon before shifting onto his knees and crawling out of the snow fort.