#I just really really really don’t want to be serious and tell them I can’t

[dazednmatthews]

casual~ c. sturniolo x reader

four times y/n was “okay” with “just casual” with chris, one time she told truth + one time he realized what he’d lost.

“my friends call me a loser

cause i’m still hanging around

i’ve heard so many rumors

that i’m just the girl that you bang on your couch”

“i just will never understand you guys,” one of y/n’s friends say, popping a chip in her mouth. “like, why are you sitting around waiting for chris?”

“because she’s obsessed with him, stupid.” another one interjects. they’re all sitting around y/n’s apartment, music playing from the t.v, snacks and drinks littering the table in front of them.

the four girls were waiting for the guys to finish setting up beer pong in the kitchen, and somehow it had turned into conversation about y/n’s less than conventional relationship with chris. go figure.

“i’m not obsessed with him,” she rolls her eyes. “and i’m not waiting for shit. we’re just casual, despite whatever you guys want to think.”

“right,” the third says, dragging out the ‘i’. she gives her a pointed look. “cause spending every waking moment together, sleeping at his house three times a week and looking at each other how you do screams casual.”

y/n laughs then, shaking her head. “it’s not that serious. can’t two people just enjoy each others times- and beds- without a relationship?”

“sure,” her best friend agrees. “two people can. you and chris though? i don’t buy it.”

“alright, fuck you guys.” y/n stands up from her place on the couch, throwing a pillow at one of her friends with a smile. “i’m going to check on what’s taking them so long.”

the walk to the kitchen is interesting, because honestly, it’s the first time y/n has really thought about her… whatever this thing with chris was from an outside perspective. it’d been a constantly changing few months, and she’d never stopped to think about how she felt in all of it.

sure, sometimes chris says stuff to her that has meaning underneath. sure, sometimes she calls him after a bad day because he always knows what to say. and sure, maybe the sex had gone from fun and wild to slightly intimate with eye contact that sometimes knocked the wind out of her. but that didn’t mean it had to mean anything different than what they wanted.

when she gets to the wall separating the hallway and the kitchen, she hears her name and freezes. “chris, bro, what the fuck is going on with you and y/n? i swear you guys are attached at the fucking hip.”

“basically his fucking girlfriend at this point,” matt, his brother, says and she can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

the girl in question finds herself waiting with bated breath for chris to answer. “fuck off, matt,” she imagines he flips him off. “she’s not my fucking girlfriend.”

it takes her by surprise the way it cracks her just a tiny bit. she knew he’d say it, knew that there was no revelation that would leave his lips. that was expected. what wasn’t expected, was how it made her feel. “we’re just fucking around. she’s a cool girl, but that’s about it.”

y/n thinks that bothers her even more than the previous answer. the words wedge their way into her stomach, wiggling around and filling her with a new, uncomfortable feeling. she thinks it may be disappointment, but she refuses to acknowledge it. chris finds her in the hallway before she can anyway.

“hey, we just finished setting up,” he sends her the most beautiful smile, one that her brain suddenly tells her he doesn’t mean. “i was just coming to find you.”

as soon as he’s in her space his hands are on her, snaking around her waist and pulling her in. he kisses her then, soft and sinfully slow. she throws the weird feelings into the fire and kisses him back just as deep.

when he pulls away, his eyebrows furrow slightly, and he gives her a concerned look. “you good?”

she’s surprised he can tell that something was bothering her. surprised he can read her face that well. it confuses her, which in turn brings those discomforting feelings right back. she looks at him, running her eyes all over him, taking him in. his bright blue eyes, the stubble framing his perfect jawline, the faded acne scar on his cheek. the moment is good, and she’s happy with them exactly as they are.

so, y/n runs her hands through his soft hair, placing a searing kiss on his lips. “i’m great. now let’s go. you’re about to get your ass kicked.”

she pulls him towards the kitchen as he laughs, stamping down the pesky voice in her head that tells her that something about this day will come back to haunt her.

-

“you said, “baby, no attachment.” but

we’re knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out

is it casual now?”

“fuck, chris,” y/n throws her head back, fisting her hands into chris’s scalp as his tongue works against her. the rubber band in her stomach feels like its about to snap, and she knows she can’t hold on much longer.

“so good for me, baby.” chris purrs, voice sending shocks through her core. “no one could ever know you like me. no one ever will.”

he holds her hips down as she tries to wiggle away from the feeling, her finish clawing through her. “no one.” she babbles, basically slurring from the pleasure.

“only me, ma.” his fingers are pumping unforgivingly, making her black spots appear in her vision. “say it.”

“just you, chris- jesusfuckingchrist,” her words keep sticking to each other as they basically fly from her mouth, and when he flattens his tongue on her, the rubber band explodes. “only you.”

he doesn’t stop lapping at her until she comes down from her high, and she’s a shaking mess in his front seat. he’s whispering praises to her, telling her how good she is to him, tells her how she’s never looked prettier than when she’s coming for him, and tells her he could never find anyone better than her.

when everything is said and done and chris is back in the driver’s seat, raking his hands through his hair incessantly, y/n feels an ugly feeling creeping into her gut. it’s red hot and thick, turning her cheeks warm.

she looks at chris, who’s already looking at her. “you okay? need anything?”

her heart clenches a little. because how can they be “just fucking around” when he looks at her like that?

“yeah,” she says, despite her better judgement. “just tired.”

chris nods, leaning across the middle console and plays with a stray curl. she presses her cheek into his hand, kissing it softly. the look in his eyes sends electricity through her veins.

“well, can’t have my girl unrested.” he rubs her chin between his thumb and pointer finger affectionately. “mine or yours?”

the action makes her sick with feelings. “mine.”

and it’s all she has to say before he’s pulling out of the parking lot like a man on a mission.

fuck.

-

“dumb love

i love being stupid

dream of us in a year

maybe we’d have an apartment

and you’d show me off to your friends at the pier”

the light filters through the curtains of the bedroom, causing y/n to blink her eyes open. she stretches slightly, only to find herself wrapped up in someone’s arms.

chris snores softly, lashes kissing his cheeks. his hair is everywhere, falling in pretty tendrils on the pillow. in her sleepy state, the girl reaches out, raking her hands through them.

he groans slightly, pushing his head into her hand. “that feels nice.”

she scrapes her nails in his scalp slightly, warmth filling her at his gruff voice. “good morning.”

he finally opens his eyes,which are a pretty dark blue, coated in sleep. “it is now.” the smile he gives her is blinding.

chris’s hold on her tightens. there’s no physical way for them to get any closer, but he’s trying anyway. his right hand is rubbing her back while his left sits on the swell of her ass, playing with the band of her underwear. the touches make her melt into him further.

they lay there for what seems like forever, although if you asked them, it would never be long enough. when they do finally leave the warmth of their bed, y/n is watching from the doorframe as chris brushes his teeth.

“how come you aren’t ready?” he asks through white foam, spraying it forward. he giggles at that, shrugging.

she raises an eyebrow. “ready for what?”

chris rinses his mouth, patting his face dry. “i told you that my friends from back home are here. we’re going out with them.”

“no, you said you were going out with them,” there’s confusion etched into his face as you continue. “i didn’t think that meant i was coming.”

“why the hell not?”

the surprise she feels is jarring. “you want me to meet your friends from home?”

chris gives her a look like she just shot him. he walks up to her, ducking his head down and connecting their eyes. “first of all, i want you with me literally everywhere i go.” he kisses her chastely. “second, ‘course i do. i want everyone to know you’re mine.”

it feels like the world opens up then. there’s a faint hum going through her body, like chris had single handedly brought her back to life.

the smile that paints her face is so radiant, you’d think the sun had risen right here in this room. “okay. i’ll get ready now.”

before she leaves the room, chris smacks her ass, making them both laugh. she feels the hardwood beneath her feet, feels the kisses from this morning on her skin and feels the peace all around her-

y/n’s woken up by the sound of her phone going off. she’s disoriented, wiping away the sleep with stiff hands. when she comes to fully, she’s in her bedroom, alone, with a longing that threatens to knock her right back out.

that was new. dreaming of chris like that. the way every single touch, every single kiss and every single feeling was so painfully real. it was getting self destructive now, the way that she was coming to realize her feelings, but ignoring them every time.

she picks up her phone to look at the time, 1:47 AM, and the texts that cover her screen.

chris <3

1:04 am

wyd

chris <3

1:17 am

come over

chris <3

1:32 am

need you here

there’s something different in the way she feels while reading them. there’s no excitement, no thrill or pleasure that runs up her spine. there’s nothing but a hollow pit in her stomach, making her nauseous.

her mind reminds her ruthlessly of her dream; the way he held her so tight. the way he called her his, and the way it felt to be wanted by him. she knew that this was no longer casual, the way she wanted to be next to him all the time. they way she found herself right there whenever he asked. the way her heart sped up whenever he looked at her. it felt like she was in fucking quicksand, with every time she tried to ignore and drown out her constantly growing feelings for chris, the deeper she sank.

she wants to say no. she wants to turn around and go right back to sleep. to finally admit that this is hurting her way worse than she’s made herself believe. but she’d be kidding herself to believe that there was ever a way for her to deny anything chris wanted. he might not be hers, but she damn sure was his.

was asleep. give me 15 n i’m on my way.

she tries to convince herself she’s fine the entire drive over there.

-

“two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in long beach

is it casual now?

…and i try to be the chill girl

that holds her tongue and gives you space

i try to be the chill girl

but honestly, i’m not.”

“i’m sorry?”

there’s a deafening silence in y/n’s head when the the words come out of chris’ moms mouth. like the loud buzz and click when turning off a static screen television.

she wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten into this situation. when chris brought it up to her, she was gobsmacked the exact same as now, mouth floundering helplessly.

“my parents are coming next week.” chris says from his place in front of the open fridge. he was rooting around for the last of the soda you kept in there specifically for him.

“i’m glad. i know you said you were missing them recently.” y/n is cooking dinner for the two of them, pasta, cause chris was craving it. she tries not to think of the implications of the scene.

“yeah, i was.”

he’s behind her now, looking over her shoulder at what she’s doing. “can you come over one night? i want you to meet them.”

y/n nearly chucks the pot off the stove with how quick she moves. “you want me to what?”

“holy shit.” chris backs up as she faces him. “you scared the fuck out of me.” he laughs, but she doesn’t return it. she’s just staring at him with wide eyes. something akin to hope blooms in her chest.

“why do you want me to meet your parents?”

chris looks at her like she just asked him to streak. his eyebrows are knitted together, and his eyes are searching hers. “why wouldn’t i?” he shrugs.

she thinks he can’t possibly know what he’s asking. he’s speaking about it so casually that she thinks she might explode. might crumble to the floor beneath his feet. as always.

“i dunno,” she says carefully. trying to find any indication in his face that they were more than she thought from his perspective. “i didn’t know that we were there yet is all.”

chris’ face flashes in recognition then. “ohhhh. no, no,” he laughs like she just told the most hilarious joke in the fucking world. “not like… not like that.”

the words actually make her start to lose consciousness a little. “like that?”

“yeah. not like as a girlfriend or anything.” he has no idea that he’s killing her slowly. “i meant because you’re one of my closest friends. like i know we’re doing this lowkey thing or whatever, but we’re still friends right?”

it would’ve hurt less if he shot her at point blank range.

she nods then, forcing herself to smile. the hope has been smothered just as quick as it started to grow. “yeah, of course. i’d love to.”

he kisses her sweetly before asking if she needs any help cooking for the sixth time today. she says no, and he tells her he’d be in her living room watching TV until she’s done.

it’s only when he left the room did she let herself fall apart.

she feels eerily similar to that moment right now. confused and slightly afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“i said, we’re going on vacation soon and we would love it if you came!” his mom repeats, her smile full and unwavering. “chris never shuts up about you, and you’ve been an absolutely light to be around tonight. we’d love to have you.”

“mom—“, chris groans from next to her in the couch, cheeks turning pink. matt and nick are laughing at him. “quit it. you’re scaring her.”

he didn’t protest. he didn’t shut it down. what the fuck does that mean?

“i wouldn’t want to impose—“ y/n starts, stuttering slightly. her palms are sweating and she feels nervousness pooling in her stomach.

“as if,” nick says. “it would be even better with you there.” matt silently agrees, nodding his head.

she has no idea what to do and chris is looking at her with the most indescribable look she’s ever seen in her god damn life. so she relents. “i’d love to. let me just make sure i’m free.”

his mom’s smile only grows, mirroring chris completely. she turns to nick to talk about something after it’s decided, and y/n’s head is left reeling. chris leans into her ear.

“you don’t have to go, you know.” he says. slowly, she turns her head to him. their faces are close, and she searches his eyes for anything to make her feel better.

“do you want me to?”

his answer is immediate. “of course.”

she knows the next question is heavy, for her at least, so she plasters a small smirk on her lips, raising her eyebrows. “catching feelings, christopher?”

he chuckles, tightening his arm around her shoulders. she envies his ability to go with the flow. to take things as they are. she can’t.

“you wish.”

it shatters her then, but she nuzzles further down into his side anyway. she laughs at the jokes the boys make, the stories his parents tell and the embarrassed blush on chris’s’ neck.

she asks questions when she should, nods and smiles at him when he looks at her. she does it all. for the rest of the night, she acts just like she should, plays her role as the nonchalant, down for whatever friends-with-benefits/situationship/casual relationship girl.

in reality though, she can tell it’s time. can tell by the way her heart constricts when he laughs. by the way she never wants to be away from him. by the way the thought of him wanting her to be so involved in his life is something she craves so bad. she loves him, and its hurting her.

it’s no longer casual, and it’s time to accept it.

-

“i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself

hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell.”

“chris?” y/n walks out the bathroom in one of his shirts and her underwear, towel drying her hair. the boy in question looks up from his phone. “have you seen my red bra with the lace trim?”

he raises his eyebrow. “i thought you had on a black one tonight?”

she rolls her eyes, throwing the towel into the laundry basket. “yes, christopher, i did. but you know the red one’s my favorite and i haven’t seen it in a while.”

he shrugs, pointing at his dresser. “oh yeah. you left it here when you were over here, one time. it’s in the dresser.”

for some reason, the words hit her like a freight train. she pauses, completely unknown to chris who’s still very much into his phone. when she gets to the dresser, she opens it, and sure enough, there it is.

something about it makes hysteria build in her body. she feels like screaming, feels like sinking into the ground to never be seen again. everything inside her that had been simmering inside her the last five months had finally bubbled over. she couldn’t take it anymore.

“what i am to you, chris?”

she didn’t mean for it to come out, but she’s glad it did. glad that she was finally done denying herself the truth that she rightfully deserved.

his head snaps to hers instantly, eyes wide. “what?”

“you heard me,” y/n walks to her bag that’s sitting on his desk chair. she shoves her legs through her shorts, standing straight and looking chris dead in the eye. “what the fuck are we doing here?”

for a moment, there’s nothing. she can tell the cogs in his head are moving a hundred miles an hour by the way his eyes are scanning her face. “we’re what we’ve always been. we’re hanging out. we’re friends.”

“friends,” she mutters bitterly. “right.”

chris sits up finally, turning his entire body towards her. his phone is tossed and forgotten. “where the hell is this coming from?”

“you just had me meet your fucking parents.” she says slowly, enunciating every word. “they fucking invited on vacation with your family,” the room is spinning for her. running past her in a flurry of color and heartbreak, “you keep my favorite fucking bra in your dresser, and you expect me to be okay with “we’re friends?””

chris can tell that something is wrong. sure anyone with functioning social awareness could tell, but he knows something is really, really wrong.

he stands, rounding the bed, coming face to face with her. he reaches out to touch her, and it’s the first time in the history of their entanglement that she steps away. the hurt on his face is palpable. but for once, y/n doesn’t care about how chris feels. or what chris wants.

“come here.” he says.

“no,” she shakes her head. she looks at him then, really looks. slides her eyes over the fluffiness of his drying hair, straight out the shower. the way his eyes sink in just a bit, contrasting with the bright blue they usually possess. the way his nose slopes and perfectly frames his face. the way his mouth, which has been so good to her, naturally leans upward and to the right, always faintly smirking. she takes in everything about him, snapping a photo in her mind so she can remember it after this moment.

y/n takes a deep breath. one she’s needed for a while. “i’m done with this.”

“what are you talking about?” she tries to convince herself it isn’t panic she hears. “stop being ridiculous and talk to me.”

“i am talking, chris. you’re just choosing not to listen.”

she walks to her bag, grabbing the things that she can see are hers. she spots her tank top on the ground, snatching it up and turning her back to chris quickly, stripping off her- his shirt. she thrusts it into his chest.

“i can’t pretend to be okay with this anymore. i tried, i really did. but it hurts. and i refuse to keep ignoring what i need to be what you do.”

the words smack chris right in the center of his forehead, the way it seems. that look, the one she can never fucking figure out, is right back on his face. it’s not her problem anymore.

he can’t think of anything to say. he’s terrified, but he doesn’t know how to fix this. so what comes out is, “you said you were okay with this. that this is what you wanted.”

y/n’s movements cease and she stares at him. they may be right in front of each other, yet there’s nothing between them but space.

“i was,” she admits. “but now i’m not. so i need you to look me in face right now and tell me what you want. cause i can’t do casual anymore, chris.”

when he doesn’t speak, her words fill the space. “i can’t wake up in your bed five nights of the week with you wrapped around me and call it casual. can’t hear you call me ‘your girl’ and pretend that when we fuck it’s casual. you can’t continuously treat me like your world and then back out when i expect it from you.”

she wishes he would say something, anything. instead, he stands in front of her, desperation haunting his features. she wants to give in, to tell him it’s okay. but she can’t. she won’t.

“i can’t give you a relationship, if that’s what you’re saying.” he runs his hair through his hair. he looks about as stressed as she feels. “i like you, but i’m not ready for that.”

y/n scoffs. it feels like a severed connection. like he just cut the tether between them with a hacksaw. “you can, but you won’t.” she smiles sadly, “and that’s okay. i don’t want you to do something that makes you unhappy.”

she walks to him then, gently placing her hand on his cheek. despite the cavity that’s being carved in place of her heart, she loves him. “i hope, on that at least, you feel the same.”

there’s really nothing else she needs to say, and she doesn’t really think there’s much else she can stomach to hear. so she removes herself from his space, and begins to try to remove him from hers.

he doesn’t try to stop her as she leaves. she doesn’t expect him to. she thinks that tells her everything.

-

y/n groans as she pulls into her unofficial, official parking spot in front of her apartment complex after work. her entire body aches, and she can’t wait to collapse in her bed.

her phone pings loudly, making her jump. she has that momentary adrenaline rush that she always does when she hears it, even after nearly a month. she wouldn’t say she was holding on to hope that he would text her, but the thought still lives in the back of her head.

it dies as quickly as it always does when she checks, though. her mom had sent her a link to some new recipe she wanted to try. she doesn’t even have the energy to heart the message.

she grabs her bag, trudging up the insane amount of stairs, grumbling about how she can’t wait for her lease to be up. it’s only when she turns the corner to the hallway leading to her apartment that she stops dead in her fucking tracks, body going numb.

there, in all his unfortunately sexy glory, is chris. he’s sitting on the ground outside her door, arms hanging off his knees. through the darkness, y/n can see him in her favorite jacket that he owns, a dark blue and white flannel type, and black, loose jeans hanging off his slouched frame.

she has no idea how long she stands there, unmoving and not uttering a word, but eventually, chris looks up.

he basically jumps up, straightening his clothes. “hi.”

she pushes her feet to move, but they don’t. “hi?”

chris scratches the back of his neck nervously. “sorry to just show up like this- fuck this is probably weird, right?- i just-“ he sucks in a breath. “i wanted to talk to you.”

“oh.” she says dumbly, eyes still wide. “yeah. okay.”

neither of them know what to say, or what to do. they’re just standing ten feet apart, staring like they’ve both seen a ghost. it’s only when y/n’s neighbor comes out of their apartment and she has to get out of the way does she move.

her feet carry her on autopilot, mind blank as she walks to her door. she’s so acutely aware of chris behind her as she opens it. it’s a funny thing, falling in love with someone. your body never forgets how they made you feel. she feels like chris must have a magnet underneath his clothes, the way she’s being pulled towards him.

once they’re inside and the lights are on, she sets her stuff down on the dining room table. she takes in a deep breath, steeling her heart before turning to him.

“so what’s up-“

“i miss you.”

they speak at the same time, but chris doesn’t falter when she gapes at him. “i’m sorry for being a fucking idiot. i’m sorry for hurting you.”

there’s not enough time for her to process anything before he’s walking towards her, slowly, like she might disappear if he makes a sudden move.

“what the fuck?”

it makes him smile slightly. he looks down for a second before closing the remaining space between them. he’s right in front of her now, and feels every hair on her body raise. his eyes are so honest, so open that it kind of takes her breath away. there’s a tiredness to him. like he hadn’t been sleeping well. his eye bags are deeper than before, eyes a little more sunken in. his facial hair is more grown out than she’s ever seen it, pronounced five o’clock shadow that makes him look well beyond his years.

“i always wanted more. i think i was just being a pussy. do you remember when i asked you to meet my parents?” she nods. how could she forget? “that night, i’d been watching you in the kitchen, dancing around and cooking. asking me to try the sauce every time you added something. kicking me out when i got too close or when i asked you if you wanted help again.”

he chuckles, like he’s thinking about his favorite memory. “i was looking at you and i knew that i was in love with you. it hit me like a fucking bus. so i asked you to meet my parents.”

y/n physically can’t do anything but stare at him like he’s telling her the secrets of the universe.

“when you said you “didn’t think we were there yet”…” he trails off, pink tinting his cheeks. “well, it scared the shit out of me. for so many reasons. i thought that meant you didn’t feel the same. then i got scared because i thought i was falling for you and this was still something you could replace.”

she doesn’t know what to say at the confession. doesn’t know how to feel either. it seemed beyond her comprehension that there was ever a time, during their entire relationship, that chris thought his feelings were unrequited.

“why the fuck didn’t you say something when i left that night?” she says incredulously. “you let me walk out of your house thinking you didn’t feel the same. do you know how bad that hurt?”

chris cringes at the reminder. “i know, and i’m so fucking sorry. i’ve replayed that night over in my head literally a million times wishing i could change it.” when he knows she won’t back away, he puts a hand on the space between her cheek and neck. “i do feel the same way, y/n. i always have. i’m sorry i was too chicken shit to tell you. and i’m sorry that you ever felt like you had to keep hurting yourself to make me happy.”

y/n feels her resolve slipping. looking at chris, standing in her apartment after a month of missing him, of wishing he would do exactly what he’s doing now, has her heart beating a thousand miles an hour. that pesky little hope fly, the one she’d thought she squished and smothered, rears its ugly head again.

above all though, she’s cautious. her heart is still tender from the break it took, and she can’t do that again. she gives him a lost look, like despite all he said, she’s still missing something.

he gets closer, lips a hair away. “ask me again.”

“ask you what?”

“what you asked me that night.” he snakes a hand up her hips to her waist. it’s searing, leaving fire in its trace. “ask me again.”

she thinks back, when she realizes, her eyes soften. “what am i to you, chris?” her voice is nothing but a whisper, scared to burst the bubble around them. the moment is so sensitive and soft, the juxtaposition of the original harshness of the question definitely not lost on her.

“you’re everything to me. you’ve been my girlfriend since probably the third week we started this thing,” her breath hitches. “you’re someone i never want to lose again.”

and when he kisses her, cause he just knows, y/n feels herself exhale. feels the pieces of her heart click back in place. it’s like finding a lost puzzle piece under a couch cushion. like the first sip of ice cold water on a scorching day.

she grabs on to him tightly, losing herself in it completely. his lips chase her every way she moves, not standing to be disconnected. it’s messy and beautiful and right. it’s all the miscommunication, fear of the unknown and doubt circling down the metaphorical drain.

she pulls away to speak, but chris doesn’t let her up. she gives him one, two, three kisses back to back before she turns her head, laughing relentlessly. “chris!”

he doesn’t stop smothering her, placing his lips on the corner of her mouth, her neck, her cheek— everywhere he can reach.

“it’s been so long. you can’t expect me to not want you close, baby.”

her heart swells ten times in size, filling her ribcage beautifully. she grabs his face in her hands, raising a stern eyebrow. “i have to say something.” chris pouts slightly, and because she’s waited so long for this, and he’s looking at her like he could never live a second without her, she places one more lingering kiss to his full lips.

“i love you, too, by the way.”

the way his face lights up has even the brightest star withering in envy. he wraps his arms all the way around her body, pulling her impossibly closer.

who knows how long they stay there, heart to heart, finally, finally exactly where they should’ve been all along.

and when they lay close in y/n’s bed that night, skin to skin and deliriously happy, they both have the same thought.

fuck casual.

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@cottoncandyswisherz @peachmels @sugrhigh @tastesousweet @rootbeerworshiper @hollandsangel @55sturn @greatooglymooglyyy @sturnolio-luvs @mattsobvimyfav @misscocodiorsblog @pepsiboyy @braindead4l @mxqdii @fawnchives @hearts4chriss @certifiednatelover @nmegamett20 @imaslut4kehlani @dominicfikue @wovenribbons @streamermattsgf @pr1ncessmatt @pinksturniolo @yourfavoritefangirl @nickmillersn1gf @freshxsturniolo @sturniolobltch @mattspolitank @lookingformyromeo @alorsxsturn @imwetforyourmom @kiarastromboli @sleepysturnss @mattscoquette @sturncakez @inkyray @simply-a-simper @lanas-doll @wh0resstuff @chrryclouds @hypnotizedsturn @riowritesitall @kitaysworld @h3arts4harry @fikefries @conspiracy-ash @matty-bear @always-reading @thehighgrounds

a/n: jesus fuck this shit took me FOREVER. i hope yall like it cause i spent so long tweaking it and rewriting some parts cause i wanted it to be perfect. this song also is embedded in my bones and i’m obsessed with it so bad. how we feeling cherrie nation!!!

also yes before y’all start… number neighbor!ten will be up with in the hour!! i wanted to post a bunch cause i’ve been working so fucking much and finally had a real day off. back at it tomorrow doe </3

anyways love yall so bad i hope u like it 🥹

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo texts #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo texts #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x you #Spotify

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Fifteen Minutes

Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Being a cam girl isn't as exciting as people think it is, that is until a mystery of a deep voiced man asks you what makes a woman feel good. Warnings: Smut, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, sex work, Din reveals his face, silver dildo, Din's a virgin, premature ejaculation. Banner has nothing to do with appearance of reader, reader has no physical descriptors besides being AFAB. Words: 4,360 Author Note: Happy May the 4th, tell me why I spent all tonight writing this?

Masterlist

— —

THEWAY would like to chat. Accept?

$150 for fifteen minutes of staring at someone’s dick, of course you’re going to take it. Usually these calls consist of you rubbing your body and complimenting men you’d never even speak to while you try to recall if you remembered to order caesar dressing with your dinner. You look around your room, you have nothing else to do, your delivery won’t be here for another twenty minutes… you hit accept. 

“Hi babe, how are you tonight?” You smile into the camera, the smile your customers love, sultry bedroom eyes and a small grin. 

“…Good,” he breathes out.

Oh, his voice. You only see a black shirt… nothing else, but that voice is enough for you. 

“Tell me, have you done this before?”

“…No. My first time.”

“Alright, so you have fifteen minutes with me, once the timer is up we’re done and I disconnect. You’re allowed to touch yourself and I will watch you, I will do what you tell me to do within my own comfort, if I choose to end the call because I don’t feel right, then you will be billed the whole amount. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, great. Just so I know what you want before we start what are you interested in tonight?”  

“I’d like to watch you and learn.”

“Learn?”

“Yes, learn, I-I,” he sighs, “I’ve never been with anybody before.”

“Oh.” With that voice? You don’t know what he looks like, but his voice has already turned you on so much you can’t imagine somebody who sounds like that is a virgin. You turn the volume all the way up. “So, you want me to show you what girls like?”

“What a girl like you likes, yes.”

“I can do that for you. I’m going to start the timer now.” 

You know this feeling, the click of the mouse on the green BEGIN button, the lean back to get your body in the whole frame, the spreading of your legs to show your viewer what they really want to see. 

“What do you want me to show baby?” You ask as you run your hand along your neck and down to your breasts.

“Show me what you like when someone has you.”

How are you so turned on by his voice? The way it flows through your speakers, the deep baritone of his serious voice, it does something to you… and it’s just a voice.

“I like when a guy plays with my nipples,” your hands cup your breasts, pulling and massaging them into peaks. “I like when they lick them,” you dribble spit down to your chest, swiping your fingers through it and spreading it across your chest. 

His long exhale massages your body through those damn tinny speakers. Usually by now your  screen is full of your client’s dick, you’ve become very good at staring at the camera, ignoring the tugging and actions on the screen in your peripheral vision. This time, that voice makes you wish you could see him. 

“I like when they drag their hands all over my body,” your hand travels down your stomach to your thighs and back up. 

“I like when they tell me they want to touch my body. Do you want to touch my body?”

“Y-yes.”

“What do you want to touch?”

“E-everywhere, you look like you’re so soft. I want to touch your legs, they look so smooth.”

“I’d like that,” you smile at the camera, “do you want me to touch my pussy for you?” 

“Uh huh.” 

You lay back, spreading your legs wide, dipping your hand down to pet yourself. You’re not surprised to find that you’re already wet, the mysterious man’s deep voice mixed with the desolate black screen and the sight of his black shirt moving as he breathes is enough for you.

You wonder how old he is, what he looks like, why he chose your room, why he’s obviously not touching himself. He’s a mystery you want to figure out. You welcome the luxury of not having to pretend you like what you see. You like knowing that this total stranger is sitting in a dark room only focusing on you.

You rub a finger against your clit, your hips rising at the feel of the pressure against your sensitive nub.

“I like when they can feel how wet they make me.” You glue your eyes to the camera letting out a moan while your finger teases your clit. “I like when they dip a finger in my cunt and bring my juices up to my clit. Feels really good as they rub me with my wet.”

Your finger dips down to your entrance, sliding it into yourself. “Ohh baby, I am so wet for you,” you moan as you begin to fuck yourself. 

Your other hand begins its descent down your body until it reaches your pussy. It works over your clit as you fuck yourself slowly, your cunt already clenching around your singular finger. 

You’re so turned on right now, the excitement of this black screen, the knowledge that he picked your picture and trusts you to show him what makes you feel good. 

“You’re pretty quiet over there, you good?”

“Y-yes. I like watching you.”

“Why’d you choose me?” you slip another finger in with a moan. “Couldn’t you just have watched a video?”

“I wanted to see it for real. Is it for real?”

“With you, yes.”

You don’t know what it is about his voice. Why are you getting off on the mystery? 

“Are you touching yourself?” You never have to, nor want to, ask, but you want to know this time. 

“No,” he sighs, “I want to focus, I don’t want any distractions.”

“Okay, that’s okay baby,” you give him an understanding smile as you begin canting your hips up to pump yourself harder. 

Five minute warning. The red box pops up on the screen. You’re too focused on your bliss to close the warning. You’re always so good at turning off the video vixen and going right into businesswoman mode but tonight, you just want to make this stranger feel satisfied. 

“I really like it when my pussy is stuffed with a cock, I love feeling the stretch and I love when my hole is stuffed so full.”

You hear his deep groan. You can’t hide the smile on your face.

“Ohhh, you liked that didn’t you? How would you take me if you were here with me? Let me know baby, tell me.”

“I-I’d want to fuck you as I looked in your eyes, you have beautiful eyes and lips, I want to kiss you while I fuck you.”

“Oh,” a chill blooms through your body at how gentle his words are. Most men are crass and too forthcoming with their fantasies, never soft, most of their answers just turn into white noise. His answer is going to stay with you. “I like when a guy wants me to cum all over their cock, I love the feeling of my cunt pumping around a hard cock as I orgasm. I’m close, do you want me to cum for you?”

“Please, yes.”

His voice, you can’t stress this enough, his voice is so fucking hot. Your body begins to feel feverish as the loud squelch of your fingers working your cunt faster and harder gets louder. You hardly ever cum during these sessions, especially when you use just your hands, needless to say, you’re really good at pretending. 

You love your job, you really do, it allows so much freedom and pays well, but some nights are so monotonous and boring. Tonight seemed like one of those nights, until you accepted this call. Tonight you’re going to cum.

Your orgasm hits you hard, back arching, limbs tightening, eyes fluttering as a rush of slick soaks your fingers. You pant for air as you come down, slipping your fingers out and resting a hand on your chest. 

The countdown begins in the corner of your screen 60, 59, 58…

“Time’s about up,” you whisper as you sit up, “I hope I helped you.”

“Y-you did. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.” 

He disconnects.

Your account shows $250 extra. He’s an excellent tipper and you actually came for him. You really love your job tonight. 

——

THEWAY would like to chat. Accept?

The way, the way, the way. You’ve thought about him for the past week, wondering if he joined any other room, if he chose someone else over you. All you know about him is he owns a black shirt and has never been with anybody… and yet you’ve thought about him every single day since. Have you crossed his mind? You sure hope so because he picked you again tonight. Your heart beats faster as you try to hide the smile when you hit the accept button. 

“Hi again,” you grin. 

This time there’s a light on behind him, you can just make out broadness of his shoulders, really fucking broad, he’s in a black shirt again, but thanks to the light you can see he has golden skin.

“Hi, it’s nice to see you.”

Goodness you’re so thankful for that light, you can see the way his chest moves as he talks. There’s tiny peek of his toned neck at the top of the screen, you pray he dips lower exposing his face. His voice is just how you remembered it, low and bassy, you’re already getting wet at the anticipation of hearing more.

“I can see a little more of you now,” you wink, “I like it.”

“Heh,” he chuckles, the first time you’ve heard him laugh. His hand comes into frame, scratching at his chest. It’s beautiful and large, his fingers are thick, you wonder what they’d feel like against your skin.

“I have to give you the same spiel even though you’re a repeat. Once again, you have fifteen minutes with me once it’s up, I disconnect. Please feel free to touch yourself for me and I’ll do what you want as long as I am okay with it. I’ll hang up if I don’t feel comfortable. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Wonderful. Are you going to touch yourself for me tonight?”

“Uh, n-no, not yet.”

“That’s okay, I’m happy to do the work for you. You want me to use my hands, or do you want me to use a toy?”

“Do you have anything shaped like a-a—uh, a—“

“A dick?”

“Yeah.”

“I do. You want to watch me fuck myself with a cock?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll grab my favorite one just for you.”

You roll over and pick up your “briefcase” of sex toys, grabbing your favorite, the silver toned dildo. It’s thick, it vibrates, and it fits your cunt just right. 

“Is this what you want to watch me fuck myself with?”

“Ye—“ he clears his throat. “God, yes.”

You giggle. “Okay, I’m starting the timer now.” 

You tap the button. Fifteen minutes of him.  

“What do you want from me baby? You want to see how this cock looks in my mouth?”

“Yes” he strangles out.

“You want me to pretend it’s your cock?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“L-lick it.”

You smile, leaning closer to the camera as you bring the dildo up to your lips, sticking your tongue out and swirling it around the tip, your eyes focused on the screen, not the camera… the screen. You want another glimpse of his skin. 

“Mm, wish I could taste you. You think you’re leaking for me right now baby?”

You lick a line down to the base and back up. 

“I bet you’re so warm and soft there,” you whisper against the tip before opening your mouth and sucking it. You hollow your cheeks as you take the dildo in deeper, eyes widening and tearing as it hits the back of your throat. 

“Fuuuuck,” he leans back farther in his chair his chin comes into sight, well trimmed facial hair, strong chin, you know he has to be beautiful. 

You can’t stop looking at him, you don’t even know his name, where he lives, what he does, why in the hell he’s still a virgin. 

Drool escapes your lips as fuck your mouth moaning around the silver latex. 

Most of the time this job isn’t the greatest, you usually find yourself going through the motions, moving on to the next client, the next responsibility. Sure, sometimes you really connect with a watcher, sometimes you look forward to the name appearing knowing you’ll actually really enjoy the session, but most of the time, you deal and move on. It’s business. Sure as hell beats sitting in a cubicle. With this stranger, this puzzle you’re slowly figuring out? You love your job. 

“Want to see my pussy take this cock now baby?”

“Please.”

You nod, leaning back and spreading your legs open. 

“Do you feel safe telling me your name? I want to say your name as I get fucked by your cock.” 

“Ye—fuck yes. It’s Din.”

“Diiiiiiin,” you moan, as you begin to pump the silver cock in and out of you. It moves smoothly, you’re soaking wet for him, only due to his voice and whatever sights the light of the lamp wants to bless you with. 

Din. Three letters. Simple. Direct. Unique. Strong. 

“Oh Din, you feel so good in me baby, like how I take your cock? Tell me baby, talk to me, I want to hear you.”

“Yes. God, you’re so beautiful.”

“You’re so big, you’re stinging me so good. You like how my pussy looks stretched around you?”

“Yes, I-I do.”

“I feel desperate, so desperate for you. I love how you feel inside me. What are you looking at baby? Can’t see your eyes, what are you watching me do right now? Where are you focused?”

“On your face. I like watching the way you bite your lip as you f-fuck yourself.” 

God, he still sound so nervous. So new. He can’t be too young, not with that body.

“What color eyes do you have, Din?”

“Brown, b-brown eyes.”

“Mm, I like brown eyes, I bet you’re real handsome all brown eyed and tan skin. Now, have those brown eyes watch my pussy baby, watch how I take you. You can look at my face as I cum for you, Din. Right now I want you to look at my cunt. Are you hard for me Din? Are you as hard as the cock I’m fucking myself with?’

“Yes.”

The five minute warning box shows up again, this time it’s your nemesis that you ignore.

“Do you imagine a pussy as wet as mine when you get yourself off?” 

“Y-yes.”

“Did you make yourself cum after our last session?”

“Yes,” he chokes out, “right after, I-I jerked off.”

“Did you think about me?” Your voice coming out with more curiosity than you’d like. 

“I did, and every time since.”

Your body shivers from his words, “That’s a good boy Din, I like that,” you smile as your hips raise off the bed to meet your quickening thrusts fucking yourself harder.

He groans, long and low.

“I’m going to cum for you, Din,” you pant. ”I’m going to cum on your cock and then I’m going to lick myself up off of you, okay?”

“Fuck, yes.” 

You chant Din’s name as you pound your pussy, tingles shooting through you as you orgasm. You haven’t cum like this on camera in a long time. It’s devastating that not every one of your clients can be Din. 

You stretch your limbs out as you come down from your climax.

“God damn,” you giggle, “that was really fucking good.”

You slowly take the dildo out and bring it to your lips, raising your eyebrow at him and resting the tip against your lips.

“Yes, please, yes,” he growls.

You lick yourself off the silver latex, sucking your juices from the top, smiling as your mouth forms around it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck,” Din’s voice edges you on.

“Mmm, Din, I taste so good, look how fucking shiny I made your dick.”

“Goooooood, fuck,” he pants, “you’re so pretty, fuck. Fuck, I-I-I I’m going to cum.”

The one minute countdown shows up at the worst time. You quickly lean forward and hit IGNORE, DO NOT CHARGE EXTRA.

“Cum for me Din, cum for me,” you try to disguise your prideful smile behind the silver dildo. 

The groans he lets out as he cums, the way his neck stretches as he angles his head up… it’s all you get, but it’s enough to keep you thinking about him at any chance you get. 

Sometimes a self esteem boost can be as simple as somebody complimenting your shoes or an attractive person giving you a friendly nod… this boost isn’t nearly as simple. Din just came in his pants just for you, without even touching himself.

“I’ve never done that, sorry,” his voice dripping with shame.

“No, Din, baby, no. I really liked it. A lot. I’m glad I could make you feel that way. Really.”

“You’re really… sweet, you know that?”

“I suppose I can be. Depends on the person,” you wink.

“I—uh, think I’m over my time.”

“You are, but I’m not going to charge you for it.”

“Thank you.” 

“Of course. Don’t be a stranger, Din.”

“I won’t.”

He disconnects. You lay back on your bed and grin at your ceiling. 

——

THEWAY would like to chat. Accept?

“Din,” you smile as the familiar black shirt appears on your screen. Thank god, the lamp is on. “It’s only been three days.”

“I know, I-I wanted to see you.”

“That’s good, I wanted to see you too.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you these past few days,” he pauses, “I’m sorry, i-is that okay?”

“Oh, of course it is. I’ve thought about you too baby.”

“You say that for everyone?”

“I do, but this time I mean it. Now, you know I have to give you the same base instructions. Fifteen minutes and then I disconnect. You can touch yourself, I’ll do what you want as long as I am okay with it. I’ll hang up if I don’t feel right. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Good, so what do you want tonight?”

“Yeah, I, uh, want to um—will you watch me tonight?”

“Of course baby, I’d be happy to.”

“Okay, yeah, thanks.”

You shake your head and laugh. “No need to thank me, I’m always happy to help you. I was really happy to see your name. So you want me to watch you tonight? Do you want me to do anything else for you?”

“Just, touch yourself and talk to me like you do. I-I’ve never done something like this, nobody has ev—nobody’s seen me like this before.”

He sounds so fragile, you want to take care of him.

“You want me to use a toy or my hand?”

“Just your hand.” 

“Okay baby, I’ll use my hand. I’ll start the timer.” You softly whisper the last part, trying to ignore that at the end of the day he’s is just your client.

He moves the computer farther away, new views are unlocked. His stomach, his crotch, his thick thighs all clad in black. 

You click the start timer button. Fifteen minutes left of this view. Fifteen minutes left of Din. 

You lean back and spread your legs to show him your already wet cunt. 

“Want me to play with my pussy for you? Get you nice and hard so you can fuck yourself until you cum for me?”

“Yes,” he hisses. His hand moves down to grip his crotch. 

Fuck, that sends a wave of pleasure through your body as one of your hands spreads your folds wide open.

“Do you see how fucking wet I am Din? How turned on I am by you, I don’t even know how you look, but you drive me crazy.”

He groans as he squeezes his bulge.

“I love how you groan, I wish I could feel it against my pussy while you eat me. I bet you’d lick me so well.”

“I want to taste you, fuck.”

“I want you to test me too. Now, go ahead, take your shirt and pants off. I want to see the rest of you.”

He quickly removes his shirt. God damnit, he’s perfect. Tan chest, tan stomach, the perfect amount of hair running from his chest to his stomach, down to where he’s currently unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. You can’t believe your eyes, as he lifts his hips to move the fabric down. Everything about him is big and strong. Lean, but filled out in all the right places. Strong and soft. How the fuck is he still a virgin? Your mouth waters at the sight of his erection now barely hiding behind the thin black fabric of his briefs. 

“Din,” you begin to rub circles around your clit, happy for the pressure, “you look so good for me, let me see your cock. Let me stare at it, you want me to see your cock?”

“Yes.”

He’s such a man of few words, you love it. His words are simple, straightforward, efficient, just like his name. Din.

He pulls his boxers down, his cock springs up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’s rock hard, pulsing, golden toned, leaking from the tip, all surrounded by dark brown hair, you knew he had dark hair. He’s HUGE.

“Din, you’re fucking beautiful baby, I can’t believe it,” you gasp. “Fuck yourself for me, I can’t wait to see you cum all over your beautiful skin for me.”

His fist wraps around his shaft, you’ve seen some pretty hot things in your line of work. You’ve had some really attractive clients call in, but right now? Right now is the hottest thing you’ve ever been blessed to witness. Din stroking his cock for you, watching his stomach move with each breath he takes. You’re too focused on him to realize your finger has been paused on your clit since he first unsheathed his cock. 

“Fuck, Din, you’re making me forget what I’m doing, you look so good. I can’t believe it.” 

He groans, his grip tightens at the tip as he fucks himself. 

“Something about seeing you like this, hearing you moan and groan for me,” your finger runs a line back and forth between your hole and your clit. “It just does something to me. It’s so fucking sexy.”

He lets out a strangled grunt raising his hips and pumping his hand faster, “I-I don’t think I’m going to last long.”

“That’s good baby, watching you is already making me want to fucking cum,” you stick two fingers in, your cunt already fluttering around them. 

“Wh-what would you do if I was with you right now fu—fucking you?”

“I’d kiss you,” your other hand travels down to begin circling around your clit, “I’d kiss your strong neck, I’d lick into your mouth and taste you. Wrap my hands around your big arms and hold on as your big cock destroys my pussy.”

“Goddddd,” he whimpers, “I-I’d like that.” His hand becoming a blur on your screen as he strokes quicker. 

The stupid five minute warning pop up shows up. You’re getting real good at ignoring it with him.

“You like that I’m about to cum on your cock? You really do something to me Din, I can’t believe how quick and hard you make me cum.”

His hips begin bucking into his first, the chair he’s on squeaking as he rapidly moves up and down. You love hearing the sound of him fucking himself mixed with the sound of you fucking yourself. 

“I’m going to cum baby,” he grunts, he called you baby.

Your eyes widen as you watch him spurt white ropes of his cum all over his stomach and thighs. There’s so much. 

Your cunt begins to spasm around your fingers as your climax crashes through you.

“Din, you feel so good. You came so good,” you gasp as you orgasm, trying to keep your shaking legs wide for him to watch. You pant for air as you get your bearings back, you’re obsessed with how this comedown feels. 

“That was amazing Din,” you smile, “not to be too forward, which is a funny thing to say right now, but you look really good.”

“Wow,” he laughs, “thank you. I feel the same way about you.” Your smile widens, you bet his face is so handsome when he laughs.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how in the hell are you a virgin with a dick like that?”

“Some weird religion stuff… I’m no longer a part of. Long story, maybe one day I’ll tell you.”

“I’d like that.”

The one minute timer shows its ugly head. 

“Fuck, we have a minute left,” you frown. “I, uh, would you take my number?” Now it’s your turn to feel nervous. 

“Y-yes. Sure.”

You lean forward and type your number into the chat box. 

“Please call me here next time you want to… talk with me.”

“I will.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Din.”

“I won’t.”

He disconnects.

——

DIN DJARIN WANTS TO FACETIME 

You almost drop your phone at the name. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your heart begins to beat loudly against your chest. You click accept, and this time you really almost drop your phone. 

His face, you knew it… he’s beautiful.

“Hi,” he shyly smiles.

“Hi. Y-you’re gorgeous?”

He laughs, his big brown eyes disappearing behind the crinkles of his eyes. “If you say so.”

“I do. I’m so glad you called me.”

“I am too,” his smile is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

Sometimes you love your job, especially when it brings someone like Din Djarin into your life. 

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fic #mandalorian smut #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian

[schemmentis]

Somethin' Stupid - Pt. 3

Part 1 / Part 2

Summary: The end of senior year, graduation, and the beginning of your last summer before college.

WC: 3.9k

Italian-American Translations: Basta - Enough, Madonn' - My god, boombotz - idiots

“I think I’m gonna break up with Joey.” You look up from your notebook where you’ve been writing your valedictorian speech. Melissa had been right; you’d secured that spot in your class. You take a moment to gaze at your best friend sitting across from you at your kitchen table. 

It’s a Friday evening, with only a week of your senior year left. Graduation less than two weeks away. You stare at Melissa, trying to figure out where this is coming from. She hasn’t looked you in the eye since you’ve looked up. She’s biting her lower lip and looking for all the world like she’s looking at one of the last pieces of homework you’ll have to do. At least for high school.

You think maybe it’s nerves. Mel certainly looks nervous. Maybe with college coming up she isn’t sure she and Joey will make it through the life changes of it. Except you know how she feels about Joey. She gets annoyed with him and loves to act like an over exasperated partner that’s been married to him for years. You know she almost never is though, not really. When she is, she tells you. This is the first time she’s mentioned anything about breaking up with him.

“Why?” You finally ask, keeping your eyes on your redhead as she finally meets your eye.

She shrugs, leaning against the table. “He’s still hanging out with Mikey and everything… I don’t think it’s right.”

You sigh, setting down your pen. “Mel,” You start as you reach across the table to grip her hands. “Do you love Joey?”

“Yeah but if he’s going to keep hangin’ out with that asshole—”

You squeeze her hands to get her to stop. “Look at me.” You say softly as she had looked away as she started on the tangent you interrupted. You wait until her green eyes are looking at you once more. “Forget all the shit with Mikey.” You say. “I’m not askin’ about that. I’m askin’ how you feel about Joey. You love him, right?”

“Right.” Melissa answers after a moment keeping herself from going on the tangent again at your request. You know she does. You’ve seen it go from her crush on him early junior year to actual affection once they started dating. To now, it's obvious to anyone with eyes around them how much Mel loves him. She’s sarcastic and pretends to be annoyed but she can’t hide the way she looks at him or doesn’t hesitate to do anything he needs. 

“And you wanna be with him? Probably marry him, whenever he gets the nerve to propose, right?” You ask, despite a small ache in your ribs. You blame it on leaning over the table and the wood pressing into them. It isn’t a secret. It hasn’t been since Melissa and Joey’s relationship got serious after they’d been together a year. You imagine it won’t be right away that Joey will propose. Maybe a couple years into college but you know it’s coming. Just like you know Mel’s answer. 

Another long drawn out moment before Mel is nodding across from you. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then you don’t wanna break up with him and you’re just gonna make yourself miserable.” You say, squeezing her hands one more time before you draw them away with a shrug. “The Mikey stuff?” You sigh as you reclaim your pen. “It sucks, yeah. But whatever. Joey was never really my friend, y’know? We got to know each other because you spend time with both of us. It’s not worth breaking up with Joey over the fact that he still wants to hang out with Mikey.”

You both have plans for the next few years. You’ve talked about them plenty in the build up to this year, senior year, and over the course of it. You know Mel is going to go into education, being a teacher is what she’s wanted to do since eighth grade. It hasn’t changed since. She’s planning on her own house in Philly as soon as she can. She’s told you about the little garden she can’t wait to have out back. Fresh produce grown right in her backyard. She’s planning on marrying Joey. She hasn’t said anything about kids but that wouldn’t surprise you. Her family is traditionally big and you know as much as Mel complains about them; they’re the most important to her.

That’s Melissa’s five year plan. College to get her teaching degree, teacher’s assistant until she can get her own position. Save for the house and the garden. Marry Joey. Start their life together, whatever it looks like. You know she doesn’t really care if Joey wants kids or doesn’t. What’s important to her is life with Joey. 

Your five year plan? You don’t have one past your career in social work. That much of a plan has always been more than enough for you. College for your bachelor’s. Start working at the entry level for experience while you go for your master’s. You still haven’t decided if afterwards you’ll go for your doctorate or a phd since they do have different applications for them and the jobs available. You figure though that part of it can wait until you get there. 

The relationship part of it? Well, you’ve just never worried about it too much. You always figured it would find you when it was meant to. If it was meant to. And if it didn’t? Well, you kind of figured you’d be alright either way.

“Maybe you’re right.” Melissa says with a huff across from you. The usual sound that accompanies her admitting she isn’t right. “Maybe I don’t wanna break up with Joey but I’m pissed he’s still hanging around with Mikey after what happened.”

You shrug, glancing back up to her. “Like I said, Mel, it’s okay. Joey and I weren’t really friends anyhow.”

“Maybe not but you’re my best friend and his best friend hurt you. If he cares so much about me shouldn’t that extend to you? Hell, even forget all that, it's just basic human decency!”

“Don’t get me wrong, I agree. You know I do, Mel. But…it doesn’t change how you feel about him and you can’t make Joey do somethin’ he doesn’t wanna do. It isn’t…it’s not worth ending everything with him over when you still care about him so much. It ain’t worth making yourself miserable over.”

Suddenly Melissa is out of her chair and rounding the table. Before you can even ask she’s throwing herself into your space with enough force it jostles you as her arms wrap around you tightly. “Just know that nobody messes with my girl and gets away with it. Nobody. I won’t let nobody get away with hurtin’ ya, not while I’m breathin’, kid.”

You blink the tears away from your eyes that are welling. You and Melissa haven’t really talked about what happened since prom. You don’t really want to. It happened and you want to move on from it. With her arms gripping you tightly and her words though, you can’t help the swelling of emotions for your best friend. You shift to wrap your arms around her to match her embrace. “Thank you,” is all you can manage to breathe out.

Melissa doesn’t drop her grip around you for a long, drawn out moment. Her arms squeeze around you to reaffirm her presence. It’s only when she hears the front door open and Kristen Marie’s loud entrance that she slowly pulls away. She kisses the top of your head, a hand squeezing your shoulder before she retreats to the other side of the table.

“‘Sup losers.” Kristen Marie says as she strides into the kitchen just as Melissa sits back down. “Mel, where’s Ma?”

“Do I look like I know?” Melissa says, shooting a glare to her sister. 

“Geez, I was just askin’.” Kristen Marie mutters. She glances at you, smiling. “Hey, Y/N, congrats on being valedictorian.”

Melissa’s glare at her sister only hardens at her brightening once she notices you. This is how it’s played out with the Schemmenti sisters since second grade. They gripe at each other and annoy each other. Kristen Marie purposefully cheery at you whenever she sees you strictly because it gets her sister to glare at her like she currently is.

“Thanks.” You answer with a small shake of your head at the Schemmenti Staredown happening across from you. 

“Okay,” Melissa says a little loudly. “You can go now, Kristen Marie.”

“Hello? I’m having a conversation with Y/N, not you, Melissa Ann. Please have some manners. Ma taught us better, you know.” 

“Oh my god,” Melissa grumbles, getting up again to start shoving her sister out of the kitchen. “Go away, we’re busy. No time for conversations with little sisters, get out.”

In the usual perfect timing of any Schemmenti, their mother arrives just then. Stepping through the side door of the house into the kitchen. She raises an eyebrow, seeing her two daughters that are now in the doorway between kitchen and living room. By now, they’ve slipped into their usual insult trading tirade. It’s rapid fire and littered with Italian you only know from practically living in this house as your second home.

“Hey! Basta, you two!” Somehow, Mrs. Schemmenti manages to be louder than her two daughters. As soon as her voice is filling the kitchen, the two sisters freeze entirely. "Madonn’ you’d think I was raising boombotz ‘round here.”

You amusedly watch the two sisters pull away from each other. Each murmuring something along the lines of ‘sorry, Ma.’ Melissa drops back into her seat across from you as Kristen Marie makes for the stairs to retreat to her room. When she looks at you, she frowns. She glances to ensure her mother won’t see before flipping you off in return for you clearly being amused at her getting in trouble. It only makes you laugh, and for as much as Melissa tries to hold her glare at you; she starts smiling.

The next time you see Melissa is at school, with Joey. They have their arms linked as they pass you at your locker between periods. She yanks on his arm to get him to stop so you can talk about the new underclassmen gossip she’s heard. She makes you promise to sit with them at lunch. You do. Joey doesn’t seem uncomfortable but he does seem…awkward. You pay him little mind, focused instead on enjoying a meal with your best friend between classes. Before Joey leaves for his next period Melissa grasps his wrist, firmly reminding him that it’ll be three of you ditching your last day next week and for your senior week trip after graduation. 

“You don’t need to do that.” You say once you look away from the back of Joey’s football jersey as he leaves the cafeteria.

“Yes, I do.”

You sigh. At least Melissa isn’t playing the game of pretending not to know what you’re talking about. “I told you, it’s okay if you just wanna go with Joey for ditch day and senior week. It’s practically spring break with way more freedom; it’s fine, Mel.”

“I don’t want to go just me and Joey for senior week.” She says with a glare. Her tone has you sitting up a bit more, blinking at the redhead sitting across the table from you.

“He wants it to be just the two of us.” Melissa continues after a moment, her fingers picking at what’s left of her sandwich. Unusual enough that she wouldn’t finish lunch it’s more unusual for her to be nervously picking at the remnants. After a moment her green eyes glance back up at you. Melissa clears her throat, shifting in her seat. “He wants to have our first time at the hotel in Myrtle Beach.”

You blink again, doing your best to fight the rising heat you feel in your cheeks. You can’t tell if it’s embarrassment at the topic or the awkwardness. Or the way Melissa’s clear feeling of discomfort reminds you of Mikey and prom. “You don’t want to.” You practically whisper. It isn’t a question. You can tell.

Melissa nods. “I mean, eventually, of course I do. I just…” She sighs, suddenly seeming frustrated with herself as she brushes her hair away from her face. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that yet.” She finally admits quietly, looking back down at the food she’s picking at. “I mean, imagine if my Ma found out I slept with Joey outta wedlock? She’d have a heart-attack and then if I got pregnant… I love him, Y/N, I do, and I want to be with him like that I just…it doesn’t feel right.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with, Mel. That you don’t feel right with.”

“If you don’t come with us to South Carolina, I will.” She answers.

You bristle. You reach across the table and grip Melissa’s hands firmly between your own. You meet her gaze with your own readily when she looks back up. “If Joey ever, ever, puts his hands on you when you tell him you don’t want him to; you call me.” You say with every ounce of sincerity.

Melissa blinks at you, her eyes wide in surprise that you would imply defending her. Despite her doing exactly the same with Mikey at prom. “He wouldn’t.” She finally manages to say.

You agree, but you also see the tinge of fear in your best friend's expression. She trusts Joey, but there’s always that little bit of doubt. You both trusted Mikey too. Maybe not as much as Joey but still. You had. Yet he took advantage anyway. “If he ever does, Melissa. You call me.” You repeat as you squeeze her hands lightly.

She nods. “You know you’d be the first one to know.” She finally agrees.

“I’ll come with you on the trip if you would really feel more comfortable.” You say as you finally release her hands.

“You will? Even if Joey will be a little snot about it?”

You scoff. “I can handle Joey being an asshole.” You assure swiftly. “If you want me there, I’m there. Joey will deal with it.”

Melissa smiles, launching into filling you in on all the itinerary she’s been planning out for the trip. By the time you’re both leaving the cafeteria you’re reluctantly agreeing to her plans to take surfing lessons that Joey had vetoed before. 

Before Myrtle Beach and the senior week trip; you have to get through graduation. Which for the most part is easy. The last week of school doesn’t present anything really challenging wise from your classes. Your teachers know there’s little point in testing or quizzing your senior class by now. Though some do still attempt to get you to learn at least slightly in your last week. Others are perfectly content to wheel the television cart into the classroom and put a VHS on for your class to talk over. 

When the actual ceremony comes; you’re more nervous. You have both your mother and Melissa check your stole over your graduation gown as well as the fit of your cap multiple times. As if it wasn’t a process to ensure the correct sizes weeks ago anyhow. Still, you’ll be standing in front of your whole school for your valedictorian speech. Popularity and looks may not have been something you were ever particularly concerned with through the last four years but you’d like to avoid looking like an idiot on that scale still.

When it comes time for your speech; you feel the nerves fall away and settle into your ability to focus on what you feel is important to say. You’d worked hard on your speech; your last farewell to both your school and classmates. It also serves to say the same on behalf of your graduating class. You wanted it to resonate. Falling comfortably into the words you’d written; you aren’t certain if it does or not. You feel like you blink and you’re at the end of the speech.

Once you finish, Melissa is the only one of your graduating class that doesn’t toss her cap in the air. She’s too busy cupping her hands around her mouth and shouting her support for you. She’s still wearing the cap a few minutes later when she all but barrels into you to hug you tight. You return her grip, your smile hurting your face when she tells you how wonderful you’d done up there.

Instead of staying out like plenty of your other new graduate friends do; you go out to dinner with Melissa, both your families, and Joey, too. You stay the night at Melissa’s like a thousand other nights before, your packed suitcase repacked by the redhead who had said no to about half of what you packed. You at least convinced her to leave the sunscreen in your suitcase before the two of you went to bed.

The next morning, you’re throwing both yours and Melissa’s bags in the back of Joey’s truck where his own are already at. You hug Melissa’s mom, telling her to pass half of it along to your own and remind her you’re only gone for a week. She hugs you back just as tightly and whispers a thank you for taking care of Mel. You don’t answer the sentiment other than a small nod. A silent ‘of course, why wouldn’t I?’

You’re hardly surprised halfway through the near nine hour drive that Mel is asleep, leaning against you from her spot in the middle of the cab of the truck. You’d told her it would happen when she was nudging you awake in the middle of the night because she was too excited about getting to the beach and having a week of no responsibilities with the newfound, if temporary, freedom of graduation.

What you’re slightly surprised by is Joey, suddenly piping up from his spot in the driver’s seat. He had been content to worry about driving while you and Melissa controlled the radio, singing along a bit obnoxiously to the songs you really liked and talking over the ones that weren’t favorites. Now that Melissa is asleep, his voice fills the cab. Not loud, or trying to wake up his girlfriend but loud enough to get your attention.

“You didn’t have nothin’ better to do for senior week?”

Joey doesn’t ask it meanly, or snidely. He sounds as casual as if he was asking if you heard what the weather will be in Myrtle Beach while you’re there. Except you know his meaning. You know it’s his way of saying you should have stayed home, or that he would have preferred you had.

“Mel practically insisted I come.” You answer in a matching tone. You don’t say it any differently than if you were saying it was supposed to be sunny nearly every day you were there, and not too hot. You hope he catches the meaning you hide beneath the casual tone. 

“She can handle being said no to, y’know.” Joey answers.

“Can you?” You throw out, looking over a head of red hair to glare at Joey.

He glances away from the highway to look at you for a brief moment before he turns back to watching where he’s driving. “I’m not an asshole.” He finally answers.

You don’t answer, though you drop your glare from the side of his head. Focusing instead on the view from your passenger window.

“I love her, Y/N.” Joey says after a long bout of silence filling the truck cab.

You bite your tongue, sensing he has more he feels he needs to say.

“I know I ain’t as smart as you.” Joey continues after a moment, as you thought he might. “I didn’t get straight A’s, hell, I graduated by the skin of my teeth and we both know I cheated on a test or midterm or finals more than once.” He admits.

“What’s your point, Joey?” You sigh, looking back to him.

“I see how you look at her, y’know?”

Your brow furrows. You had thought he was trying to plead his case about not taking advantage of Melissa. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“I ain’t a genius, but I ain’t stupid, Y/N.” He answers, glancing back to you for a few seconds again. “I wouldn’t do anythin’ Mel didn’t wanna do. Even if I’m…ready for more in our relationship. I love her. I don’t wanna mess nothin’ up.”

“Okay…?” You drag out, more confused the more Joey talks.

He meets your eyes briefly before he looks back to the road again. “I won’t give you a chance.” He finally says. Not in a mean way but just…factual. “I won’t mess up what me and Mel got. Even if it ain’t like what you have with her. It’s good, really good, and I love her.”

You sober, the furrow of your brow eases as you lean back in your seat. You suddenly understand. Joey knows what you realized at prom. Maybe he knew it before you realized it yourself. Your love for Melissa is more than friends, and maybe has always been. You sigh.

“Joey.” You start. “I’m not your competition.” You shrug. “I’m not sabotaging your relationship with Mel by being here. I’ve never tried to, and I won’t now. As long as you keep her happy, and take care of her? I’m not your competition. All I want is for Melissa to be happy and treated right. And she is. You think I don’t get my ear talked off about you all the time?”

Joey laughs. “You think she don’t do the same to me ‘bout you? Christ, I think I knew your valedictorian speech myself before you even gave it.”

In spite of yourself, you smile. Sure, there’s the smallest of stabs in your heart if you think about it for too long. What you feel and what it means. What you really want, what you’re missing out on. Except, the larger part of you feels warm. Warm with Melissa leaning against your shoulder sleeping soundly. Warm with the knowledge that even if it isn’t in the same way she does care about you deeply. Warm with the knowledge that you and Joey are just two people that love the same person. How upset can you really be when he wants exactly what you want for Melissa? Whatever she wants and needs to be happy. You can’t blame Joey for being protective of his relationship with her. You would be too if you were him. You are in your way about your friendship with her.

“You should talk to her about it yourself,” You say after a moment, “but she told me she isn’t ready for what you were wanting this trip to be.”

Joey is quiet for a long time before he nods. “Yeah. I kinda figured that one out.” He shrugs. “Just wish she woulda said that. ‘Stead of beating around the bush about it all, y’know?”

“Like I said…you should talk to Mel about it yourself. I’ll get lost on the beach for a while if you need me to.” You offer.

Joey grins and shakes his head. “Nah. Let’s just have a good week, huh? When we get back we’re gonna have to worry about being adults and all that other shit.”

“One last stupid teenage hurrah, huh?”

“Damn right.”

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfiction #somethin stupid

[sturniolo-rat]

Cake Eater’s Delight

Matt Sturniolo X Reader

A/N: here’s your anal fic as promised! I spent way too much time describing yoga positions. For this, I am extremely sorry.

Contains: smut, anal, oral, butt plugs

TW: BEARS! Also, the term "Butt Slut" You give me a simple request, and I will do the absolute most

Y/N is wearing yoga pants that accentuate her ass. Matt is intent on fucking it.

Today is self-care Sunday, and Y/N just finished making a strawberry banana smoothie with extra protein powder for her boyfriend, Matt. It’s seven a.m., and she has the whole day planned, but first, she has to get him up and ready.

“Wakey wakey, My sweet boy.” she chirps eagerly, holding the smoothie to his face. 

“Oh god.” he groans, wipes the sleep from his eyes, and sees how hyped Y/N is. Still very disoriented, he says, “I see you’re having a good morning, Baby, but what time is it?” 

“It’s seven a.m. and I’m super excited for our early morning nature walk!”  

He sits up and sighs. “The fuckin’ nature walk.” Matt was actually pretty enthusiastic about this last night when he agreed to it, but not so much this morning. It’s too early, and he just wants Y/N to come back and be the big spoon for the next two hours. The smoothie, however, is immaculate, and he made her a promise. He summons all of his strength and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He sits facing Y/N and says with a smile, “I’ve never been more pumped for anything in my life!” Y/N gives him a bone-crushing hug before skipping off to get him the outfit she picked for him yesterday. Matt can’t help but stare at her booty as she makes her way to the closet. Those damn yoga pants get him every time.  

Half an hour later, they arrive at the closest California state park. Matt is warming up to the idea of this walk. He really does love nature, and having a little stroll in it is certainly something he would do as self-care. “Maybe we’ll see a bear!” Y/N squeals. 

“I love bears. They're so fucking big and dumb.” He really does hope they see a bear. His excitement over seeing a dangerous animal in the wild isn’t his fault. He has a very serious condition called white man curiosity. Bless him and his family. 

As they walk the dirt trail, Matt tells her facts about all the animals and plants they encounter. At some point, the trail leads them to a very colorful part of the woods filled with flowers. The trail has slowly been getting narrower, so Matt is now walking behind Y/N. “Baby, If I sincerely told you that I accidentally body-swapped with my sister, would you believe me?”

He’s deeply confused by the question, but he has an answer for it, regardless. “I would probably ask you a question that only you could answer first.” he pauses to laugh at how silly she is. “Would you believe me?”

“Most definitely,” she responds with unnatural quickness.

Matt is taken aback. “Why so certain?”

“Well, now that we’ve had the conversation, I don’t think you’d say you were body-swapped unless it actually happened.”

He’s getting very invested in the conversation now. “I’m not worried about it because you only really get body-swapped with people you dislike. So I don’t think there’s any danger of this happening to me and my brothers.”

“I don’t hate my sister, but we are polar opposites, so I see body-swap potential.”

“Be careful not to get sucked into any body-swapping hijinks, My love.”

“I’ll try, but no promises.”

Suddenly, he grabs her arm and stops her in her tracks. Y/N turns around to look at him, but all she sees is a beautiful array of flowers. Matt had been behind her, picking a bouquet of flowers as they talked. He moves the flowers from in front of his face and hands them to Y/N. “It’s a thank-you gift. I truly am having an amazing time today.”

“This is insanely fucking sweet. Thank you so much, Baby.” She leans in to give him a soft peck on the cheek. “I think we should start heading back though. We’re getting kinda far out.” They had gotten lost in each other's company and didn’t notice that they had been walking for an hour and covered at least 2 miles of the 5-mile trail.

Matt tears his gaze from Y/N’s face to take in their environment. “Goddamn, we’re like way out in the fuckin wild!” He can tell Y/N is getting somewhat uncomfortable with the thought of being so deep in the woods, so he holds out his hand for her to take and starts to walk her back down the trail. 

Y/N lets go of his hand and taps him furiously on the shoulder. “Matt. Matt, it actually fucking happened. Look!” she whispers in his ear and points into the distance. 

“A bear!” Matt yells.

“Hush!” she hits him hard on the head. “Don’t be the idiot who gets killed because he screamed at a bear. Just get the camera out.”

He fumbles with his backpack but realizes he didn’t pack it. He was so sure they wouldn’t come across a bear. The pictures and videos he takes on his phone will have to do for their next vlog. Once Matt has all the bear material he needs, they continue down the dirt path, tip-toeing very quietly.

When they finally reach their car, they’re exhausted, sweaty, and gross. Matt, however, is also rocking a semi. He’s been walking behind Y/N for hours now, watching how her ass moves. They’ve just started experimenting with butt stuff recently. He’s been obsessed with her backside ever since. He can't get the image of the pink hello kitty butt plug sticking out of her ass out of his mind. The drive home is pleasant and gives him time to calm down. Matt doesn’t want his horniness to get in the way of the day Y/N has planned. 

They arrive home, and Y/N flops on their bed. The walk was way longer than it was supposed to be. She’s anxious to tell Matt about the next activity she has planned, but she needs a quick break to hydrate. Matt comes in clutch and brings her the Stanley cup she filled up that morning but forgot to bring. She sits up and takes the cup. “Thank,” she says as she takes a sip. “God!”

“Don’t thank God. Thank me, Honey.” he winks as she absolutely chugs her water. There’s water dripping from the sides of her mouth running down her neck and breasts. Fuck she can even make drinking like a feral caveman look sexy. When she finishes, she sets the cup down, and Matt’s dick jumps in his pants. She looks like she could be in a wet t-shirt contest. He’s really fighting for his life right now and needs an activity to distract himself. “Alright! Get up, Baby. It’s time for whatever’s next on the list.” He hopes it's something lame and calming like meditation or maybe some silly facial skin routine.

“Okay, I’ll go get the yoga mats and bring them to the living room.” She hops up from the bed, fully recharged and energetic as ever. “Oh, yay. I’m gonna bring my new yoga ball, too!”

“Oh, good!” he says quite insincerely. He should have seen this coming. She’s wearing the yoga pants she reserves for actually doing yoga. This is going to be torture. He tucks his boner into his waistband and waits for Y/N in the other room.      

When meets him there, she kicks her yoga ball into the corner and gives Matt a big hug before setting up their pink and blue yoga mats. She’s so happy to be spending the day relaxing and playing around with him. Her ponytail whips around behind her as she spins to face Matt. “Did you know it’s actually recommended that you do yoga or stretch after long walks? The walk wasn’t meant to be long, but how lucky it is that my plan works out.” She’s speaking extremely quickly due to her excitement.  She pauses for a breath but begins talking again before Matt can respond. “Are you ready?” she asks expectantly.

“Of course, My love. Your plan is perfect.” 

They stand on their respective mats, and Y/N realizes that Matt has probably never done yoga in his life. “Let me show you five poses you need to know before we start.” He takes a deep breath and prepares for a face full of outstretched booty, but to his surprise, she sits down crisscrossed. “We’re gonna start off with the Sukhasana. Just sit down, touch your pointer fingers to your thumbs, and close your eyes.” 

“Seems easy enough,” He says and patiently watches as she changes pose. 

“Then we’re gonna transition into the Adho Mukha Svanasana. Just get on your hands and knees,” she demonstrates as she talks. “Place your hands down in front of you, shoulder-width apart. Then walk your legs back so your hands are under your shoulders, and your knees are under your hips.”

“That’s a lot of words to explain what I believe is the very simple-looking downward-facing dog.” Yup. This is exactly what he expected. It’s awful and stressful, but it’s also absolutely fucking glorious. Her booty is a piece of art crafted specifically for him by the hands of God. He tears his eyes away and looks at her face as she once again, changes her pose. 

“Oh, shut up. I’m trying to sound like a yoga professional,” she says with a small chuckle. “Anyway, the next pose is the pigeon pose.”

“Yeah, super fancy and professional.” He smirks, and she rolls her eyes.

“Moving on!” she says, letting out an exasperated breath, “From the Adho Mukha Svanasana position, you’re gonna lift your left leg up while keeping your other leg straight and your foot arched.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Matt whispers loudly. The pose essentially looks like she’s throwing it back on the floor. Her bottom is round and cute, and all he wants to do is reach out and squeeze it. That’s a lie, actually. He wants to smack it. Hard, very fucking hard. He wants to grope her fat, meaty thighs and worship her body. She’s talking, but he can’t hear her. He’s in a trance, and he needs to do something about it. “I’m sorry, Sweetness. I really am, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

Y/N gets up and looks at his face, very concerned. “What’s wrong, Baby?”

He still hasn’t looked up at her face. “It’s your ass.” He licks his lips. “I have to fuck it.”

Y/N moves so that she’s directly in front of him and grabs him by his jaw to make him look at her. She whispers in his ear, “I know.” Matt has been lusting after her all day. There was no possibility that she wouldn’t notice. "Time to destroy my root chakra."

“Fuck yes!” He pulls her into a rough, toothy kiss. His lips are soft, almost silken, and pillowy against hers. His hand reaches up to massage her breast, and she moans into his mouth. She needs him. Needs to see more of him. Y/N tugs at the hem of his shirt. Matt takes the hint, breaks the kiss, and removes it. She puts her hands on his chest and rubs them down his abdomen. He’s so beautiful. 

In one swift motion, he wipes her hands away. She whimpers and gives him a pathetic, needy look. “I know you want to touch me, Baby. I know.” He says as he makes his way over to get the yoga ball. “But right now, I need you to bend over this ball and show me that pretty, pretty ass of yours.” 

Y/N does as she’s told. She loves it when Matt bosses her around. He pulls at her pants aggressively, and she doesn’t understand what he’s trying to do. Then she hears a tearing sound and feels the cold air on her bare bottom. “You just ripped my favorite yoga pants!”

“Quiet!” He barks. “I’ll get you new ones.” He says as he forces her panties down around her knees. His hands part her cheeks, and he can’t believe what he sees. He has been lusting after this woman all fucking day, thinking he was being a pervert. Little did he know that Y/N had her butt plug in the whole time. He takes a closer look. It’s not her favorite Hello Kitty one, but the one with the blue jewel on the end. Matt’s eyes widened; it’s their second biggest one. Y/N anticipated this, and she always comes prepared. 

He kneads both of her cheeks as he asks, “Oh, Sweet girl, did you plan this? Was this part of your little self-care day? Did you need to be a little butt slut for me to feel complete?”

“I do.” She whines. “Last night, I got so horny thinking about you playing with my ass.”

“I can tell, Sweetheart. You used the big blue one. We’ve never even touched that one before. Were you training your ass for me?” He sits on his knees behind her so his face is level with her rear. Matt takes his time biting and kissing her ass. She lets out a hiss when he starts to play with the plug, pulling it out only to put it back in again. Every little movement has her gasping. He keeps going until she’s too loose for the stretch. He slaps her on the ass with so much force he leaves a handprint, and she lets out a wail. 

“I know we haven’t done it before, but do you want to take my cock?” he asks.

“I want to try,” she says in a shaky voice.

“Are you sure?”

“I am. I swear.”

“I promise I’ll be gentle, but first,” He shoves his pants and boxers down and takes his cock in his hand as he walks around to Y/N’s front. “I need you to lube up my cock. Can you do that for me, Baby?”

“Mhmm, I can.” She replies eagerly and opens wide. 

Her mouth is wet and warm around his cock. He holds her hands behind her back so she has to deep-throat him to reach his base. The dirty, sloppy sounds coming from his thrusts in and out of her throat are music to his ears. He needs to hear more. He grabs her by the ponytail and fucks her face harder. He wants to hear her choke and gag. She doesn’t mind it. She’s just happy to be of service. Her mouth is so fucking perfect, but he needs to stop before he cums. He pulls out, and she gasps for air. “You okay? Catch your breath, Baby.” He gives Y/N time to orient herself. 

“I’m okay.” She gives him a big smile. Only sluts smile like that after choking on cock.

“If you want me to stop at any point, just tell me, and I'll stop.”

Y/N nods her head, and Matt takes his spot behind her. He pulls the butt plug out very carefully and sets it aside. Her pussy is so wet and leaking, but he ignores it entirely, except to say, “You’re dripping down your thighs, My love.” he smiles to himself as he taps his cock on her ass. “You’re soaking your new exercise ball,” he says as he slowly pushes his tip in. When he finally pushes in past his tip, it burns and hurts, but she loves the sensation. She keeps thinking that it can’t get any longer, but it just keeps going, and the stretch burns until, eventually, he gives her all of him. Her asshole clenches hard, and it feels so fucking amazing, but then it’s burning and hurting right at the entrance, and she whimpers as he pulls himself out halfway. He’s going so slow, and he wants to speed up so badly. Her asshole feels so much better than he imagined it would. He knew she would be tight, but he didn’t know how deep she could take him. She can’t fit him all the way in when he fucks her pussy. It feels so nice to be able to give her everything he’s got. 

“You can go faster now.”

“Oh, yes.” he bites his lip and speeds up to a respectable pace. 

“No, faster. I need it faster,” she says desperately. He picks up the pace, and finally, he starts to feel like he’s properly fucking her. She’s moaning and whining because it feels so bad and so good at the same time. It’s a very confusing sensation, but all she knows is she wants to cum so badly. Usually, Matt likes to make Y/N cum first, but he doesn’t know if anal will make her cum, and he just can’t resist cumming in her ass. He stands her up so she’s up against his chest and reaches in front of her to rub her clit. This is what she needs, what she’s been missing. He loves the sounds she’s making. He doesn’t even notice he’s been drilling into her faster and faster. Y/N is letting out loud yelps with every thrust. If anyone overheard them, they would think she was in agony. 

“I’m gonna cum, Baby. I want you to try to cum with me. Can you do that?” he says, breathing heavily.

“I can try.”

“What do you need, Love? How can I help you cum?” 

“Please pull my hair.” His hands are around her ponytail before she can even get all the words out. He pulls so hard she’s forced to look up at the ceiling. 

“Like that?”

Her eyes are rolling to the back of her head. “Fuck, yes! Just like that! I’m gonna cum!” 

Matt puts more pressure on her clit and feels her cumming. It feels different from when he’s in her pussy. The thought of having had every one of her holes pushes him to the edge, and he releases himself into her asshole. 

Y/N’s knees buckle, and she collapses onto the exercise ball and pants. He wants to ask her if she’s alright, but he’s distracted watching his cum leak out of her ass. “Fuck,” he leans over to pick he up bridal style. “Let's get you into a bath, okay?”

“You’re not gonna believe this, but that’s actually next on the list.”

“Perfectly planned, My love.”

Masterlist

@rafecameronsbitch @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @mrsmiagreer @lovergirl4387 @gdsvhtwa @ashley9282828 @j-worlds-blog @stephanienwf @achrisgirly @draculaura123 @abbypost @Cind2224 @crazychrisl0v3r @ryli3sworld @bkwrld @pinkishpearls @pepsienthusiasts @stunza @chrattstromboli @sturnssmuts @angelic-sturniolos111 @69isabella69 @maryx2xx @sturniolo04 @bigbeefybitch @klaus223492 @r93339 @sturnzsblog @spotconlon55 @robins-scoop @junovrsmp4 @sturnlover4eva @blahbel668 @lilahnowheretobefound @luxy-nyx @tuffsturns @m0r94n @sturnstvs @pepsicolapussy333 @maddyslifesstuff @dogblof @honeymoonxxz @xplr-sturns-e-m @hayhjelmstad15 @thetriplets3 @y0urm4m @mattyblover07

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo smut #sturniolo ask game #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo introduction #sturniolo edit #sturniolo triplets x reader

[eepwriting]

Vessel NSFW Alphabet

Warnings: All of it…if you’re not cool with nsfw stuff just don’t read 💀

⁺˚⋆��°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

✶ A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex?)

➮ Sex with Vessel is almost always an intense act so he’d always make sure you were happy in the end. Asking how you feel, rubbing your back while you chat.

➮ Would always clean you up and bring you some water.

✶ B = Body Part (Favorite on themselves, favorite on you.)

➮ He loves his stomach and chest. He works hard to maintain his shape and is proud of what he’s been able to achieve.

➮ He loves your thighs. They’re his favorite napping spot and he loves to grab at your soft flesh. Loves to leave marks and finger prints on them as well.

✶ C = Cum (Anything to do with cum.)

➮ He looooves cumming inside you. Buried fully, his chest against yours, your eyes locked together. Says it brings the two of you closer as a couple.

✶ D = Dirty Secret (Self explanatory?)

➮ This motherfucker has a dick piercing. I just know it.

✶ E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

➮ He’s had past partners so he knows what he’s doing. If you’re less or more experienced than him he won’t treat you any differently. Always enjoys trying new things with you that neither of you have done.

✶ F = Favorite Position (Once again, self explanatory.)

➮ He loves good ol fashioned missionary. Lets him see all of you and he’s able to stare into your eyes and kiss you easily.

✶ G = Goofy (Are they serious or playful during the act?)

➮ He usually remains serious but if you attempt any jokes, he always laughs and shoots one back.

✶ H = Hair (How well groomed are they?)

➮ He’s not completely hairless but definitely keeps it short. Just his personal preference.

✶ I = Intimacy (How intimate are they in the moment?)

➮ Vessel is EXTREMELY intimate. Always making sure you know 100% how much he loves and appreciates you. Lets you feel all of him and what he has to give you. Puts your pleasure before his most of the time.

✶ J = Jerking Off

➮ He really tries to not jerk off when he’s gone, wanting to save all his pent up energy for you, but obviously a man has needs. If he does decide to help himself, he always calls you and asks you to help.

✶ K = Kinks

➮ He doesn’t mind and actually enjoys taking you in front of others. Obviously, if you’re not comfortable with that sort of thing, he won’t push you. That doesn’t stop him from telling you his fantasies though.

✶ L = Location (Their favorite location to do the do.)

➮ If it’s just the two of you, he honestly doesn’t mind where it is. If you have a preference, he’ll happily oblige.

✶ M = Motivation (What turns them on?)

➮ It doesn’t take much from you. He does love when you’re especially needy for him, begging him to fuck you.

✶ N = No (Something they would never do.)

➮ Never anything to do with scat or piss. I think this goes for all the members.

✶ O = Oral (Preference of giving and receiving.)

➮ While he does love to go down on you, in fact he could do it for hours. He can’t deny how much he loves seeing your eyes water as you try to get him down your throat. He likes to look down on you, caressing your face, showering you in praises.

✶ P = Pace (Are they rough and fast or careful and gentle?)

➮ It depends on his mood. If he’s in a bad mood and just needs that release, he makes sure you’re okay with whatever he’s doing. Most of the time he loves to take him time with you, preferring it slow and sensual.

✶ Q = Quickie

➮ He’s not one for quickies, as stated before. He loves to take his time.

✶ R = Risk (Do they experiment?)

➮ Vessel is always open to trying new things with you. He’s very open minded and is down to try everything at least once, except anything that could seriously harm either one of you.

✶ S = Stamina (How long do they last?)

➮ If he hasn’t seen you in a while, he doesn’t last super long. Getting so worked up and excited over finally having you, he can’t help himself. You find it incredibly hot, having him a moaning mess within 3-5 minutes inside you.

➮ If he’s home or sees you often…man can go for hours.

✶ T = Toys (Do they use them? On you or themselves?)

➮ I don’t see him having any toys of his own but he is more than happy to incorporate some when the two of you are together. Nothing crazy, mostly vibrators he can use on you while buried in you.

✶ U = Unfair (How much do they tease you?)

➮ A fair bit. He loves seeing your pleading eyes, hearing your begs and whimpers, your moans of frustration.

✶ V = Volume (How loud are they?)

➮ He’s pretty quiet most of the time. At most letting out a few soft grunts. He will compliment and praise the shit out of you though. Usually through whispers or a quiet, calm voice.

➮ Now, if he’s in a mood, he lets out louder, almost growl like groans.

✶ W = Wild Card (Random head cannon.)

➮ He loves a chase. Sometimes he tells you to hide, giving you a solid 30 seconds to find a good spot. If he’s able to find you, he fucks you in the same spot, no matter where you’re hidden.

✶ X = X-Ray (What will we find under their clothes?)

➮ Besides his Prince Albert, a few scars and birthmarks.

✶ Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

➮ To say it’s high is an understatement. If he’s seeing you every day, he’s inside you at least once in some sort of way.

✶ Z = Zzz (How soon do they fall asleep after?)

➮ If it’s late in the day he always makes sure you’re asleep first. Often laying on his side watching as you doze off. Before he feels comfortable enough to fall asleep himself.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

This was fun. II is next 👌

As always, if you wanna see anything…requestttt!

K. Bye bye.

#sleep token #sleep token worship #sleep token vessel #vessel sleep token #vessel #sleep token fic #sleep token smut #alphabet #sleep token x reader #vessel x reader

[jeansplaytoy]

Complaining - Ony. 6

<<part five part seven>>

arguing , angst (?) , ony being the “worst” , language , mentions of cheating / lying .

the waits are killing me too . NOT PROOF READ forgive me .

“so you sayin… this nigga told you he wasn’t going to the party, at the same time he was taking me.” you crossed your arms.

ony sat on the same couch as you, different distances because your hits hurt. even though he apparently didn’t have anything to lie about.

“yeah.” his ex girlfriend said, glancing at him across from you. ony looked at you and smacked his lips. “ian gon lie. y/n you gotta be the dumbest person i know if you believe that.”

“boy shut the hell up.” you rolled your eyes at him. you looked back at the girl. “you got message proof?”

when she turned the phone around after a few seconds, you didn’t even bother looking fully at the messages. the only thing you saw was “ian goin to that par-“ and that’s all you read before you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in.

ony frowned and looked at the messages. “man hol’ up-“

“shut up. you, you do know he literally just wanted me to start taking to him again, right? like before that party?”

“he ain’t tell me that.” she crossed her arms.

“yep. you can go.” you muttered before getting up and going upstairs. as you heard his ex girlfriend get up and leave, ony followed you to his room.

“bruh-“

“i’m good man. ion even wanna hear it.” you pursed your lips together.

“ma, im being dead ass serious when i say she lyin.” ony said with his hands in his pockets by the doorway. “right then what did them messages say?” you squinted. “ony sighed inaudibly and longingly. “that ain’t me. on some real shit.”

“yknow… ion even know why i bothered tryna restart wit’ you. cause i really thought we could have something and i thought we was gon make it this time without fucking up, but it’s always you, onyankopon.” you stared at him while getting your things from around his room.

ony started to open his mouth and say something, but suddenly he closed his mouth and stared at you with now, blank eyes. “okay.”

you frowned a little and paused what you were doing. “okay?”

“if you ain’t gon believe what i’m telling you, even though i’m not fuckin lyin, then what else can i say? ‘y/n forgive me for telling the truth. i love you.’ i’m sicka that shit.” he said, still leaning on the doorway.

you blinked for a couple seconds. “you.. make me so fuckin’ sick. honestly, i wish i never met yo ass. like everything you do just hurts.” you threw your things on the bed.

ony just walked over to his bed and sat down. “right. cus you can’t seem to believe one fuckin’ thing that be comin outta my mouth and you so fuckin gullible, you believe everything another bitch tell you.” he scoffed and laid back, putting his arms behind his head.

“alright.” you raised your eyebrows, grabbing your things and starting to walk towards the door. “don’t… worry…” you said, picking up the things you were dropping on the way out. “bout me.”

you thought everything was finally gathered until one thing from the middle of the stack dropped, then everything dropped.

yep. that’s it.

you let out a deep, agonizing groan and looked back at ony, who just stared at you. “you done?” he raised his eyebrows. you furrowed your eyebrows and inhaled, your breath shaky as you did so. “i like you for real ony…” you scratched your head and looked at the ground. “you just don’t know.”

“y/n, i promise you i know, but i’m tryna tell you.”

“i’m not bouda sit here and listen to no lies ony. she showed me the messages, i’m done wit this whole thing.” you shook your head. ony sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. “what the fuck i gotta do to prove to you that ion want nothing to do wit her nomo? you can look at my messages from when we started talkin again, you can ask around, ion know what else to say to you.”

“why the fuck would you wanna show me the same messages she showed me?” you frowned. “you know what, this is why-“

ony dragged his hands over his face. as you went on and on about how stupid he was, he stared at the floor, covering his mouth with his hands and slowly shaking his head.

he should’ve never cheated.

he should’ve never lied.

your whole personality wouldn’t have changed. that’s the only reason you’re acting like this, and he knew that.

“i’m sorry.”

you stopped your rant and looked at him. “what?”

“i’m sorry, it ain’t gon happen again. is that what you wanna hear?” he looked at you with bored eyes. you pursed your lips together. “so it did happen.”

“naw. no. hell no. but if you want a sorry, or whatever you want, you got it. i’m just tryna be happy witchu bruh.”

you stayed silent, picking up your things, feelings tears swell in your eyes. never in your life have you cried over a nigga but here you are, doing just that.

“is you cryin?”

“i’m calling mikasa so she can take me home. don’t call me, text me, ion wanna hear yo voice. just delete my contact or some shit because…” you shook your head, leaving out of onys room.

going downstairs, you took out your phone to call mikasa.

“hello?”

“come pick me up. you got my location.”

before she could say anything back, you hung up.

so much for talking things out.

#jeansplaytoy♡︎ #onyankopon x reader #onyankapon #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon #ony aot #ony x reader #ony x black reader

[simplydannie]

Inspired by and written for @gabykatttt! You know I had to add a little drama to it lol

Brozone is invited back to Mount Rageous as special guests for a singing competition where they will each mentor a young contestant.

Only thing they didn’t know: Floyd’s apprentice is someone they didn’t expect… and definitely don’t approve of.

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

“Alright so let’s see here! My lovely Rageon is a boy named Taize, interesting!” John Dory flipped through the file,”Seems like the kid has spunk!” He handed his brothers their files. Brozone sat inside Rhonda on another trip to Mount Rageous, except this time, it was on better terms. Since the events that took place a year ago, Mount Rageous had invited Brozone back to take part of a singing competition and be the guest of honor. Each member would mentor a Rageon who’d be participating.

“Not to brag, but I think my boys got this.” He exclaimed.

Bruce open up his file, “Seems like me and Clay are assigned to two sisters.”

Clay took the file from his brother’s hand, “Glimmer and Gala. They have been doing singing competitions since they were four and winning almost every single one.”

“Sorry, JD, I think me and Clay have this one.” Bruce smirked.

Poppy popped in, a range of emotions whirling through her tiny body, “I can believe this! Brozone is officially back! Not to mention bringing in the next wave of musical talent! Even if they aren’t Troll of course.”

“But this is an opportunity! First Rageous, then the rest of the Troll kingdom!” JD announced, “Not to mention that Rageous officially extended the invitation to ALL Trolls and Bergens alike.”

“Whoa! So, this could really be big for us?” Clay responded glancing at all his brothers.

“Time for Brozone to get back on the map!” Bruce pumped, “Oh! Floyd? We didn’t even get to hear who you and Branches Rageon is.”

Floyd fiddled with the small file in his hands. He already knew who he had gotten to mentor, he wasn’t sure Branch would be okay with it though.

“You sure you don’t want to mentor your own kid, Branch?” Floyd asked again.

“Nope. I really would like to do this one with you Floyd. The two youngest, kicking big brother butt.” Branch crossed his arms and stared smuggly at his older brothers.

“Well good luck with that.” Clay stuck out his tongue earning a laugh from Branch. He turned back to look at Floyd.

“So? Who’s the kid?” Branch asked. Floyd let out a heavy sigh. “Oh come on Floyd. It can’t be that bad can it?” Branch took the file into his own hands.

“Alright let’s see here.” He skimmed the paperwork. “Our kiddo is……Veneer Vincent Montegue.” Branches eyes widened. He looked at Floyd who now had a sheepish smile on his face. “Veneer. As in Velvet and Veneer? You’re not serious Floyd!” The rest of the brothers, including Poppy, gathered around Branch.

“He’s not kidding.” Bruce mumbled.

“This has to be a mistake!” Clay exclaimed.

“Or a trap set up by them again. We can talk to the officials when we get there. We’ll…” JD began.

Floyd interrupted, “No! No, this…This isn’t a mistake. I’m….I requested it.

“WHAT!” Everyone echoed. Was Floyd crazy? Why on Earth would he want to mentor someone who nearly killed him?

“Floyd, the kid doesn’t have talent. That’s why he was using you!” Branch exclaimed.

Floyd scoffed at his remark, “Everyone has talent. It’s in there. And Veneer definitely has it. He just got the wrong inspiration.”

“No way! As the oldest I am not allowing this. His sister is obviously planning something. Veneer has the look of innocence but he’s not.” JD remarked.

“Velvets out of the picture… at least for now.” Floyd stated.

Poppy arched an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“When their sentence was up, she booked it. Sending tell him anything. Veneer was left completely alone. Other then her he has no family. So… he reached out to me.” Floyd said.

“What!? Like, he mailed to you? And you responded back?” Branch tossed the files on the couch. “And you didn’t think about asking US if we were okay with it?” He was fuming. How could his brother be so naive, so forgiving?

“I have to agree on Branch with this one Floyd, I know you feel for Veneer. Maybe he can be a good kid, but we’re not risking it.” Bruce added.

“Guys please. Listen I knew them before they did what they did. They were misguided, lost. They’re good kids I swear. Look I know what it’s like to walk on you sinking,” He looked at Branch. “I want to do right, I want to show Veneer what true family is about, what it’s liking to live in harmony with your siblings. Let’s do that guys.” Floyd looked back and forth between all his brothers, but he saw the stubbornness in all their eyes… they had made up their mind.

“You….you knew them before their little fame thing?” Poppy asked, earning a nod from the little Troll. “Guys maybe you should trust him. I… I think it’s worth a shot.”

“You can’t be serious Poppy!” Branch exclaimed.

“I’m sure they’ll keep a watchful eye on him. They wouldn’t let him participate in the first place if they didn’t have any protocols.” She added.

“No! I’m sorry Poppy, I know your queen, but I am the big brother. Sorry Floyd, but once we get there, you switch to someone else. End of discussion.” John Dory set his foot down.

Floyd sighed in defeat. He hunched over on the couch, looking at the file. Floyd didn’t bother telling them how excited Veneer had sounded when he mentioned the plan to get him back on his feet. He didn’t want to imagine the look on his face when he’d have to turn on him down. Floyd rode the rest of the trip in silence.

It was another hour until they finally saw the glistening lights shining from the mountain… they were back at Mount Rageous. This time they took the highway that lead them deeper in the glimmering city. They were finally able to see what it was all made of …. And it was stunning. Their buildings were made of gems and fine jewels the trolls have never even seen. Somehow they used these gems to power their technology. The deeper they traveled into Mount Rageous, the more adults they began to see. If they thought the teens were big, the adults were much taller. The Trolls also saw children and infants for the first time in the city.

“Alright, like, do all Rageons have to be good looking.” John Dory scoffed. All eyes turned to Rhonda as she went down the ride. Children giggled and starting chasing after her. Rhonda began getting carried away and playing with the children.

“Hey old girl! We have a destination. You can play later.” JD called out. Hesitantly, she continued down the road until she got to a beautiful park where a stunning stage was set up.

“Looks like this is it.” Clay exclaimed as Rhonda neared the entrance. She stopped, allowing Brozone and Poppy to hop off. It was intimidating at first, being surrounding by such tall beings, but the excitement of the Rageons upon laying eyes on the little Trolls allowed a calmness to overcome them.

“Oh my gosh your Brozone!”

“I loved your performance at the Rage Dome!”

“I’m so glad your brother is okay!”

“Can we have your autograph!”

Rageon upon Rageon came surrounding them. John Dory was overjoyed… finally he and his brothers were getting the recognition he’d dreamed of… not only to be known by the trolls, but world wide, every species chanting their name.

“One at a time guys! There’s plenty of Brozone to go around!” He exclaimed. All the brothers loved the attention, they loved giving autographs. Branch was one who was still getting used to it. If it weren’t for Poppy, he’d probably just shy away in the back. The only little Troll not participating was Floyd. He hung around near Rhonda. His eyes darted around looking for a Rageon with green swooped hair.

“Are you Bruce?” He looked up to see three Rageons staring down around him. Their look fit the description in the files: one boy, dark red skin with flaming orange hair styles in a faux hawk, and two girls, both similar in their blue tinted skin color, except one had peacock colored hair while the other aegean.

“Taize, Glimmer, and Gala I take it.” Floyd responded. The three young Rageons smiled.

“This is soooooo exciting!” Gala chimed.

“I bet. But I’m not Bruce. He’s brother over there. And that’s John Dory.” Floyd pointed out. “I’m Floyd.”

The Rageons gaped, “You were the little guy Velvet and Veneer troll-napped!” Glimmer gasped.

“Hopefully they’re still rotting in jail.” Taize added.

“Y-yeah.” Floyd stammered. Behind him he could hear his brothers approach them.

“Taize I assume! The names John Dory! I’ll be your mentor.”

“And I’m Clay, this is Bruce, were are both you’re lovely ladies mentors.”

Everyone turned to look at Floyd and Branch, “And we will be right back, we just need to have a word with the officials!” Brnach pushed Floyd along to the main tables.

“Branch, I’m asking one more time: Please don’t do this? We can do really good by Veneer hear. If you get to know him Branch, he reminds so much of you.”

“Whoa, whoa, don’t even compare me to him. I don’t go around stealing peoples talent.”

“But Branch…”

“No Floyd! I don’t normally agree with John, but on this one he has my vote. Veneer can cry me a river for all I care.” Branch scoffed.

“Floyd?” A familiar voice sounded from behind them. The two Trolls turned around slowly. Behind them stood a pale Rageon with bright green hair covered in a purple beanie. He wore a golden oversized hoodie over black skinny jeans and purple sneakers: Veneer. He smiled down at the Trolls….but they were speechless. It wasn’t seeing him in casual Rageon attire that through them off….it was the tube connected to his nose, trailing behind him into a backpack. Branch pulled Floyd aside, whsipering to where only he could here.

“What’s wrong with him?” He demanded.

Floyd shurgged, staring wide eyes up at Veneer, “I….I don’t know.” The Rageon didn’t notice their surprised faces as he smiled at them.

“So, I guess, you two are my mentors.” He chimed. Floyd and Branch didn’t respond. For one, they didn’t expect to find Veneer in this state. But no, they couldn’t mentor him, wouldn’t mentor him, he didn’t deserve it….did he?

“Umm…Veneer…there’s something we have to tell you…I’m sorry….” Floyd began. It pained him to do so, to turn away someone who had reached out to him for help… but this was the first time his brothers really agreed on something. If he had to choose between the kid or his brothers, well, it was a no brainer…right?

#trolls band together #trolls 3 #velvet and veneer #trolls veneer #veneer #velvet and veneer trolls #trolls band together brozone #trolls brozone #brozone #trolls branch #trolls 3 band together #trolls 3 veneer #trolls fanfic #fanfic writing #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #trolls #veneer trolls #mount rageous #trolls movie #trolls fandom

[sourkitsch]

Two things that are true at once:

I am not nearly as mentally ill as I’ve convinced myself I am

I am far sicker than I’ve convinced my friends that I am

#:( #my friend and I were talking about post grad plans and we were talking about how our friend is gonna move in w them + their partner #and eventually we got onto how I’m not confident on my ability to pay rent on place by myself #and then they were like omg wait we were actually just looking at a place w 3 bedrooms and thinking about who else we would want to live w #and I literally brushed them off by saying ‘oh no I’m a nightmare to live with’ and they were like no omg it would be so great!!!!!! #it would not be great. and I am hoping whatever these plans are fall through so I don’t have to say anything about it #because I cannot have roommates. my friends have only encountered my ptsd twice and I managed it well enough that I’m pretty sure #no one noticed. but it’s because the vast majority of my triggers are domestic. when I sleep over my moms house I sleep in a bedroom #all the way down the hall away from everything because I cannot hear people’s footsteps by my door or I freak the fuck out #and just the idea of people drinking or doing drugs in a place I live makes me feel like I’m gonna throw up #I’ve tried living in a single dorm before and that was bad enough that I had to move off of campus my sophomore year #I just really really really don’t want to be serious and tell them I can’t #because I know it would be unfair to all of us #I hate that I view myself as a punishment for other people but I know it’s because it is. I would be that crazy roommate that’s brought up #for years afterwards. and it sucks because I like this people even if I know not to trust them #it’s also now a pattern that when I bring something up about me not being normal people think it’s a joke. which maybe it’s my fault #I really need to go back to therapy but do not have the bandwidth to go over the incest thing with a new person right now

[yourqueenb]

You have no idea how happy I am to see that other people like you don't like blades 2 as well. Like yes it was decent, but on the same level as book 1 in the LEAST.

And I agree, book 3 seems like an excuse to get fans off of their back about the writing. The finale felt extremely disappointing, compared to the thrill you could feel in book 1 end

Yeah, I’m still gonna play book 3 and (foolishly) hope that it’ll be better. But those hopes aren’t too high because book 2 was not a good set up for book 3 at all in my opinion. There’s so much going on. I don’t like that Valax is a part of our friend group now. However, the group dynamics were off long before that if I’m being real. Mal’s route was ruined for me.

When I was going through and deleting my screenshots the other day, I reread the “You slept through it scene” and just felt a renewed sense of hurt and anger at him and really all of our friends. Mal caught a lot of heat from me specifically because he’s my LI and the one who said such an awful thing. But honestly, the rest of the group essentially agreed with him by expanding on what he said (Imtura and Nia) or not saying anything at all (Tyril) and only getting on one accord to exclude MC.

And then on top of all of that, there are quite a few holes that really should be patched up. The plot was a mess for the majority of the story. Tbh it was almost giving Endless Summer because they were locking important information behind diamond scenes and in the lore tablets.

So all this to say that at this point in time, I no longer have faith that PB can handle complex storytelling. Their parent company and higher ups (unsurprisingly) only care about money. And the writers themselves are too lazy and too biased. Does that mean they can no longer write enjoyable stories? No, of course not. But I do think they need to rein it in and be a bit more realistic about what they can handle right now because there’s nothing wrong with a simpler book/plot that’s aware of what it’s trying to accomplish. And it’s clear that they were far too ambitious with Blades 2

#choices bolas #choices blades #blades of light and shadow #choices stories you play #playchoices #if book 3 is as disappointing as or worse than book 2 I’m just gonna ignore them and only consider book 1 canon #and then just make up my own headcanon for what happened after lol #I think i and quite a few other people have been operating off of the notion that PB could tell great complex stories #but they weren’t because cheap smut is what sells #but now I can’t even believe that anymore #they just don’t have the range #and maybe I should’ve come to this conclusion sooner but 🤷🏽‍♀️ #and back to the Mal thing for a second I’m being so serious when I say rereading that scene broke my heart all over again #when I first read it my initial reaction was anger so I couldn’t even really focus on anything immediately after that #but upon rereading my heart just sunk for MC #bc if the writers did one thing well it was making the rift between MC and the rest of the group palpable #and it was also very obvious that she was hurt by that and ended up internalizing Mal’s statement/the group’s sentiments on that year #‘Just a little blood No scars Nothing I was asleep for all of it My body works fine’ #so I’ll just close out by saying enjoying the book was a challenge for me #and it shouldn’t have been because I *wanted* to enjoy it #book 1 was so good and it getting greenlit for a book 2 was such an unexpected surprise #plus we waited so long for it but it just did not meet expectations #choices #choices app #choices ask

[miss-morland]

really wish i could make male friends without them wanting to fuck me .

#one of them is dead serious and very up front about it #the other just constantly jokes and i can’t tell if that’s just his sense of humor or if he Really Wants to fuck me #the jokes are a lil too specific to be just jokes imo. but idk #also if you’re reading this i don’t mean you dw #male friends who stream fortnite are not included in this post #personal

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

I’m gonna have like. A day off lol my bad

#no I actually don’t mind I rather enjoy what I do #i have 2 days off from work but one of them I offered to help someone move #shoutout to her she’s like one of my favorite people I work with and one of my favorite people just in general #I’m like I will gladly help you move whatever you need I’m there she must’ve asked me like 1000x times if I was sure about wanting to help #like girl not only r u always nice to me no matter what but you also mimick the things I do in a kind way like I’ll do anything for u #i actually didnt realize I had quite a few traits until she started mirroring them and I’m like oh I do that! i do that? i do that! #apparently I tilt my head a little whenever I smile. and of course the way I wave and say hi. and several of my speech patterns #it’s very little things that mean the world to me #catch me cross country on the weekends when I’m bored just to pop in and say hi to these people #i don’t even necessarily love my job or anything. it’s fine. sometimes it’s stressful. sometimes it’s boring #but I do love the people I work with. there’s like 3 I can’t stand. but there’s a few that make me ok with working so many hours per week #oh but it’s so funny the way I get when people make it clear that I matter to them #the woman I’m helping move had said earlier she was exhausted doing it by herself #and then for a half hour I’m thinking to myself. i can help. i want to help. anxiety of my parents. i want to help. i want to go offer help #and I finally was like. um. if you want help I’m not that strong but I’d really love to help. yeah I am serious. here’s my days off #like tell me why I was so absurdly shy. like aw she made it apparent she enjoys my presence at work! forgot how to exist #the way I don’t understand human interaction. at all. it’s terrible #it will not get better with time lol #oh man I work tomorrow #i gotta go to sleep rn #soup talks #but first. gotta catch up on my daily gatchas

[yoohyeontual]

I didn’t think my life could go worst than it was

#my parents threatened each other of divorcing so many times #but I think it’s real this time #my mom just frustrated us so much today that it exploded and it was ugly #idk what I will do if this happen #i’m serious #I’m so unhappy at least I had my parents to make me happy #but if they aren’t together anymore I have nothing left m #my dad is emotionally close and id he love I will probably never see him cause he’s gonna move probably far away and I don’t have a car #and my mom is going to spend the rest of her life insulting my dad and I’ll fight with her to stop #and gonna be answer with “if I can’t express myself just go’’ #and Puppy my precious Puppy I’m scared what’s going to happen if my mom can’t pay for his pills again #I can’t lose him right now #and whoever is going to move he’s going to spend all the rest of his life looking for the other #which is why I haven’t kill myself yet cause I don’t want him looking for me sad that I’m gone #I’m only alive for him and Sowon and I’m so close of breaking down #this is the last straw I’m really scared of what is going to happen #I’m not an adult I’m a child I’m so terrified idk what to do #I don’t want pity I just need to scream this somewhere cause my best friend is so far from me #and I don’t wanna go to a family member telling them I wanna die #l’m exhausted I need to breathe #and I despise that everything doing on I still about how much I wanna see this person #it’s been more than 4 years and they still have a hold on me it’s disgusting #sometimes I wish I hated them maybe i wouldn’t be so sad if I didn’t care about them #do not worry about me I won’t do anything I mostly want all of this to stop but idk how #alex.txt #tw suicide mention #tw negative #tw negativity

[anxiousbabybird]

Love and Deepspace men x fem!reader slightly unhinged HCs

I started Love and Deepspace yesterday so please have my slightly unhinged HCs for the men so far. And minors don’t you dare interact

Part 2

Rafayel

He’s a biter. Leaves you covered in marks from your neck all the way down your thighs.

Plans a date where he’s laid out a huge canvas on the floor of his studio, puts your fave color paint on your hands and his favorite color on his hands, plus several globs of the two colors across the canvas, and then proceeds to have the wildest three rounds of sex on that canvas as it gets progressively more covered in paint. Sells the painting for 6 figures a few weeks later and uses it as an excuse that you need to make more of them.

Tells you his best masterpiece is painting your body with his cum—got really into it once and dipped the paint brush into your cunt to collect his cum and then painted it across your breasts

Has a secret sketch book that’s nothing but pictures of you. Lots of them are of you sleeping when he can study your features but there’s still quite a few he drew from memory.

Made you lay down naked with your legs spread and be still so he could draw the most detailed image of your pussy you could possibly imagine. It’s his personal fave that no one besides him will ever see.

Sees shibari as a beautiful art form and likes to practice with you—has a whole album in his phone just of pics of you tied up all pretty for him

Rarely gets soft in a serious way, he much prefers the teasing back and forth you two usually have.

Xavier

He’s definitely broken into your room Edward Cullen style and watched you sleep

His favorite dates are taking you into the forest at night to watch the stars and moon together. Bonus points if you come across a wanderer and get to fight together.

Clingy after you become his, always wants to be touching you and doesn’t let you out of his sight (and yes that means sometimes he’s following you but it’s just because you’re brave and reckless and he worries)

When he eats you out, he holds both your hands in his for you to hold on to and does it with no hands—makes you cum more times on his tongue than you could fathom (and yes, he’s eating you for his pleasure)

Downloaded a tracker into your watch so he can know where you are at all times

Gets horny when he watches you fight and has def pulled you aside during a mission for a quickie in which you end up having your cunt stuffed with cum for the remainder of the mission

Such a cuddler but like a cat where he only wants to cuddle if he wants to—falls asleep nearly instantly in your arms like the cute sleepyhead he is

Zayne

Finds it so cute the first time he comes to your apartment and sees all the little snow creatures he’d made you sitting in a windowsill together. Makes you so many more after that. Sends you a bouquet of flowers made from his ice too (#Elsa)

Has food delivered to you at lunch on days he knows you’re super busy so you don’t forget to eat since you often forget to take care of yourself (he doesn’t mind too much since he likes that you let him take care of you)

Prefers kisses over hugs, except when he’s sad because of a patient (then he likes the warm comfort of your hugs)

Moves his glasses to the top of his head and rubs the bridge of his nose when he gets really stressed

Brings you a mild painkiller after blowing your back out, a smug but tiny smile on his lips, and tells you, “I was a bit rough so humor me and take this medicine. I don’t want you in excess pain because of me.”

Loves when you want to lay on his chest when he’s reading through cases and medical journals at night. He’ll read them out loud until you fall asleep and then finish them quietly as you snore softly into his chest

Calls you before a difficult surgery because your voice instantly calms him down

Into bondage—specifically he likes to tie you up so you can’t escape when he starts to overstimulate you. He really can’t help it, you just make such pretty noises for him when he gets you to that point that he has to keep going

Tags: @adaurielle @luffysprincess @seraphofthesimps

#love and deepspace #love and Deepspace HCs #zayne love and deepspace #Zayne HCs #zayne x reader #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel HCs #rafayel x reader #Xavier x reader #xavier love and deepspace

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ SORCERY SCHEMES — GETO SUGURU.

contents. non sorcery au!, husband! suguru, gn! reader, nanako and mimiko are still your kids, silly lil shenanigans of cult leader! suguru being in your dreams

suguru has been the source of your anger for lots of things over the years. some fair, others not so much.

that one important date he accidentally missed because he got caught up at work. that time you vented and he tried to tell you to toughen up instead of picking your side. that time he accidentally shrunk your favorite sweater in the laundry. that time he fell asleep while you were talking late at night (he had insisted he was tired, in his defense—you were just too stubborn to let him sleep.)

marriage has its ups and downs, but suguru likes to think you’re a strong couple—but this? this is the most outrageously ridiculous reason to be mad at him—he’s simply at a loss.

“so let me get this straight,” he starts slowly, as if trying to comprehend something far too complex for his simple mind, “you’re mad at me because i had some superpowers in your dream—”

“it was sorcery,” you hiss, “were you even listening?”

“right. sorry. i was…a sorcerer,” he apologizes. he looks at you like you’re insane—your eye twitches just a little. “and then suddenly i went crazy in the head and killed a village and adopted nanako and mimiko and…left. to basically cleanse an entire demographic. is that right?”

“you had a cult too.”

“and the cult,” he nods slowly, “can’t forget the cult.”

“yeah,” you glower—if looks could kill, suguru thinks he might have never been born at all. this is a new one, he has to admit. “and it was really fucking rude. you left. and you took the kids before i could even meet them.”

“okay,” he says tiredly, rubbing his forehead, “baby, i don’t know if you realize this, but i don’t…i can’t perform sorcery. and i don’t have a cult i can lead either. i’m just a literature teacher—”

“i know what you are,” you snap, shoving away the hand he tries to reach at you with, “you’re a selfish psychopath who committed heinous crimes and left me single and alone as you led a group of people to follow your crazy ideas. don’t even think about touching me—”

“so do you want me to apologize?” he sighs, “because i’m sorry—”

“what if i left you? huh? and just started killing everyone who has blue eyes? what then? i’ll take the kids this time and leave you alone, see how you like it.”

“well, at least that gets rid of satoru,” he mutters quietly. and then he grins—chuckles a soft little laugh that makes the edges of your lips curl just a bit. “you’re crazy,” he snorts, shaking his head. and then— “but i love you. c’mere.”

you don’t fight the hand the reaches towards you this time, letting his arm curl around your waist and pull you into his side. that’s a good sign, he thinks, so he tests the waters and plants a kiss to your head. you melt just a little.

“i’m still mad at you,” you mumble.

“yeah, i figured,” he grins, “anything i can do to erase my sins as a mass murderer?”

“you can make breakfast,” you hum, leaning closer as you rub circles into his chest, “and wash the dishes.”

“easy enough,” he nods, pulling a scowl from you.

“you’re not off the hook yet,” you click your teeth.

“of course,” he nods in agreement, “i still have to atone for my radical actions. i’ll start by resurrecting all the people i killed. that should do it, right?”

“suguru, be serious,” you huff, “i was very sad, okay?”

“did you miss me?” he wriggles his brows—you look at him incredulously before slapping his chest. he chuckles a little too long for your liking.

“what a stupid question,” you pinch your nose, “so if i became delusional and ran off to erase a population, you wouldn’t be upset with me?”

“actually, i’d follow you because i love you,” he shrugs, pinching your nose lightly, “i’d be your cult’s second-in-command. obviously you just didn’t love me enough in your dream to do the same for me.”

“you didn’t invite me,” you pout through a glare, “what was i supposed to do? show up unwelcome?”

“well, nothing was stopping you. was i at least a strong sorcerer?” he asks in wonder.

you think for a moment before nodding. “yeah,” you say thoughtfully, “one of the strongest.”

“nice,” he grins—he seems a bit too pleased for something that happened in your dreams.

you decide to deal the harsh blow. “but not nearly as strong as satoru. you know he was the literally the strongest?”

“okay,” he scowls, “if you do kill blue-eyed people, start with him.”

you giggle, leaning up to kiss his jaw as he lets a soft grin pull over his features. he laughs with you—and suddenly, you’re both chuckling together uncontrollably.

it’s a bit of a silly circumstance, but he kisses your forehead and means it when he says, “sorry i left you to kill people and led a cult and committed a bunch of crimes while i wiped out a whole group of people. i didn’t mean it.”

“you took the kids too,” you remind him.

“i don’t know what i was thinking,” he shakes his head, “those two are a handful. how was i managing being a single father with all that on my plate?”

“that’s why you shouldn’t have left me,” you point out.

“you’re right,” he agrees, “i’ll invite you if i ever snap and lose my sanity.”

“good. you’re forgiven. now, i want chocolate chip pancakes—and make coffee while you’re at it.”

“yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes. he kisses you though, a soft little peck over your lips as you hum into the kiss and cup his cheek, “you got it. whatever you want.”

“i want you,” you murmur, “unhinged sorcerer and all.”

he laughs at the craziness of it all—but he loves it anyway, loves you despite it all.

“and i want you too,” he grins, hopelessly in love, “if you’ll do me the honors and join my crazy sorcery schemes.”

hi i’m tee and i had a dream that my rude ass sister stole my car and totaled it and now im very mad at her and i am not speaking to her until she apologizes. she refuses so im now double mad

#teepods.writings #drabbles. #geto x reader #geto x you #geto fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[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!!

#spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #Prentiss #prentiss!Reader #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #mathew grey gubler #Matthew grey gubler x reader

[antiquarianfics]

You Have a Girlfriend?

So you get a little confused when you’re drunk? So what?

a/n: I saw a goofy little twitter post about this somewhere and ran with it. I’m goofy when I’m drunk, so, honestly? A very plausible scenario.

warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

—

You’re sitting next to Bucky and across from Sam, and you are a little very drunk. The three of you chose to have a drink and talk after a long day of working on the Wilsons’ boat. The issue, however, is that Sam challenged Bucky and yourself to a drinking game, and you were desperately losing.

One thing about you is that when you’re drunk: you feel the need to tell everyone how much you love them. Another thing about you when you’re drunk: your memory sucks.

“Sam,” you whisper yell across the bow of the boat. “Sam. Sam. Sam.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at you when he turns his attention to you.

“I have a secret to tell you! No, two secrets!” You hold out two fingers in front of you.

Sam smirks. “What’s that?”

“One,” you hold up one finger, “I love you; you’re a good friend. Two,” you hold up a second finger, “your friend who’s sitting by me is really, really hot.”

Sam lets out a loud laugh, and you grin at his reaction.

“I love you, too, kid.”

Bucky is smiling fondly at you, watching you with love and adoration. He’s glad he can’t get drunk simply for the ability to take care of you while you let loose.

“I’m really, really hot, huh?” Bucky teases, and he laughs when you nearly get whiplash from turning to look at him.

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him. In your drunken state, you clearly didn’t expect him to hear your admission to Sam. You relax after a second, though, and smile at him.

“Yeah, you are. Y’know, I was wonderin’…” you trail off, getting distracted as you stare into his bright blue eyes. You let out a content sigh as you observe him.

“What were ya wonderin’, Doll?” He lets his hand rest on your thigh, rubbing his hand up and down comfortingly.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Your question is dead serious. There’s no hesitancy or joke in your voice, and Bucky finds it completely endearing. He chuckles as he stares at you, and you can faintly hear Sam lose his shit. You don’t pull your attention away from Bucky at all, though.

“I do,” Bucky informs you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at your reaction.

Your eyes go wide, tears prickle at the corner of them. You swallow and wipe them away before doing your best to come up with a steady voice.

“Is it serious?” You question him.

“Very,” he smiles. “‘m gonna ask her to marry me.”

Generally speaking, Bucky wouldn’t have told you his plans, but he is fairly certain you’re not going to remember this conversation in the morning. And, if you do, he isn’t too concerned because he is so very serious.

You make no effort to hide your disappointment, and you let your tears fall freely this time.

“Oh, okay. She’s so lucky. Does she make you happy?”

“Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

You’re obviously upset, and you’re obviously unaware Bucky is talking about you. Sam is trying not to laugh, but his wide grin betrays him. Bucky, however, finds himself more concerned than entertained when you start to actually cry.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” He wipes a tear away with his thumb, softly holding your face.

“No!” You push his hand away, eyes going wide. “You have a girlfriend! She wouldn’t want you touchin’ me!”

He laughs then. He can’t help it. After all, his girlfriend would very much want him to touch you. You always have your hand interlaced with his, or your body snugly tucked into his side, or your hand in his hair, or… The list goes on.

“Hey, don’t laugh.” You frown.

“Sorry, sorry. ‘s just that my girlfriend loves when I touch you.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Why would she like for you to touch other women?”

Sam bursts into another round of laughter. He is struggling to breathe as he wordlessly points at the two of you, ignoring Bucky’s glare.

“Oh, Doll, she doesn’t. She hates it, really, and I never pay another dame a lick of attention. She’s the only one I’ve got eyes for.” He kisses your forehead, a form of punctuation to his assurance.

Your critical thinking skills, however, are formally shot.

“You’re lying! You’re paying me attention! And I’m not your girlfriend! What’s your girlfriend’s name? I’ve got to tell her you’re cheating. Girl code.”

Sam loses it again.

“Your girlfriend! You: cheating! Shit!” Sam barely manages to get a thought out. Bucky grins at his friend. He can’t deny that he is just as entertained by your antics.

He pulls out his phone, opening his contacts up to the one labeled “Dollface,” and hands it to you.

“Here,” he says, “call her.”

You nod and take his phone, hitting the call button and holding his cellphone to your ear.

A ringtone fills the night air and you frown when you feel a vibration in your back pocket. Clumsily, you pull your own cellphone out of your pocket and look down at the screen.

“JBB <3 is calling…” appears on your screen along with a candid photo of Bucky laughing.

You stare at it, and Sam and Bucky stare at you. You don’t do anything—don’t say anything, don’t move—until the call goes to voicemail. Finally you look up at Bucky.

“Why’d it call me?”

“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend,” Bucky finally says.

Your face breaks into a wide grin.

“No shit!”

—

“I wasn’t that drunk!” You insist the following morning.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look before laughing.

“Kid,” Sam says once he’s calmed down enough. “You asked Tin-man if he had a girlfriend and cried when he said yes.”

Your eyes go wide as you turn to Bucky for confirmation.

“You did, Doll,” he says, smiling.

You stare for a moment before shrugging and turning back to your coffee in front of you.

“Y’know what? That’s a totally reasonable reaction,” you say, leaning back into Bucky as he situates himself behind you and plants a loving kiss in your hair.

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