#this was the first thought i had when i woke up this morning

[januaryembrs]

THE KID HITS BACK | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [4]

Description: The THREE times things feel weird between Spencer and you because you're just best friends.

Length: 21k (this is HALF of what I wrote for this chapter before I split it into two parts :0)

Warnings: explicit hints of suicidal ideation, as I have said in the last two chapters, Bugsy has really struggled with losing Emily and has been in a bad place. it is mentioned once or twice but please read with caution if you feel topics of mental health, not vividly described but the effects of it, are mentioned. Spencer's addiction is also mentioned. Violence, blood, swearing, usual CM warnings. Also there is a brief mention of SA (bugsy gets spanked by a stranger in a casino), again if this is triggering please be cautious. EXPLOSION. Emily and bug argue + fight. Bug + hatch fight. Bugsy takes no prisoners in this one won't lie. Spencer and bugsy turn each other on accidentally.

authors note: this was supposed to be a lot longer (I've had to split it with the next part released in a few days time) and yet every time I tried to upload to Tumblr, it crashed because it was over 30k words ;-; OTHER HALF IS COMING SOON.

previous chpt | next chapter

The one where Emily comes back.

She felt the headache as soon as she woke up. She’d experimented with Molly her first week of college, hated every second of it after she had prattled on for two hours to some other random freshman about the breakthrough research in enzyme-replacement therapy like she was catching him up on an episode of the Kardashians. She’d tried the odd few brownies, though they usually turned her stomach the next day and made her paranoid for about a week, before she swore them off entirely for their yummy, sober counterpart. 

She should have known what to expect when she woke up, but then again, if she had been smart enough to pre-empt how awful she’d feel the next day, she probably wouldn’t have taken the little pink pill with a candied love heart on the top at all. 

The duvet was soft against her face, and for a moment she didn’t care about anything except chasing the warmth it provided; just that she was cosy and it smelled nice, smelled familiar. 

Her eyes pinged open when she realised that whatever that familiar smell was, it was very much not her own sheets. And she was very much not in the clothes she left the house in last night. 

Bugsy sat up too fast, that much she knew, because in the time it had taken her to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, reach for the side table where she hoped to find her phone, a home phone, or just any working phone she could call someone off, she felt the room that smelled like a dream spinning around her. 

Her legs turned to jelly, her stomach tossed with a mix of nerves and nausea, and, graceful as ever, she fell face first to the ground with a thud, smacking her temple off the corner of the bedpost on her way down. 

“Fuck,” She whined, raising a hand to her brow that thudded with more than the side affects of last night, and she was quick to hear footsteps approaching as if in a half run. The door to the bedroom dragged on the thick sherpa carpet as it swung open, and she blinked wearily up at the culprit. 

“Alright, up we get,” There were hands slipping under hers before she got a chance to see anything that wasn’t a blurry mess of brown hair and worried eyes, and it wasn’t until she heard his voice she felt herself sigh in relief, “Of course you wake up the second I turn around,”

“Sencer?,” She cleared her throat, hands latching onto his shoulders as he lifted her back onto the bed, “Spencer?” She tried again, her lips chapped, her skin clammy. 

“Good morning, to you too,” His voice was soft, quieter than usual, like he knew just how delicate her head was and changed his tone accordingly, “Did you sleep well?”

“Morgan- where’s Morgan, I thought we…” She murmured, turning her head in confusion to the window where Spence had gone so far as to pull the curtains closed for her, seeing just the smallest crack of daylight filtering over the bed sheets. Her hands ran down his chest, her eyes lost and dazed, like someone had taken her batteries out, and Spencer took it as an opportunity to hand her the glass of water he’d got her and two advil. 

“Morgan’s safe; he went home, he said he had a wonderful night,” Spencer lied, hoping she was just a little out of it that she didn’t catch him in it. She always knew when he was lying. But, as he’d suspected, she barely picked up on it, her lips pouting in confusion when she took note of the medicine he’d given her, “Drink up, Morgan said you did a lot of dancing last night, you’re probably dehydrated.”

“I did…” She echoed him, trailing off when the blur of the nightclub caught up to her, and she remembered exactly the last time someone had handed her a little tablet like those ones. Her heart plummeted, her eyes widening into saucers, and she swore she might have felt the glass crack beneath her palm with how tight her grip became. She looked up at him, and instantly picked apart the pity and the sadness swimming in his honey pooled eyes, “You know,” 

He nodded softly, his hand coming up to stroke her hair away from her face, his gaze falling to where she felt something sore and achy forming on her forehead, bleeding into her brow. 

“Spence-” Her own groan of pain cut her off when he brushed over the bump on her temple, and she understood she had perhaps hit it much harder than she’d initially thought.

“Let’s get you breakfast, and then we’ll talk,” He whispered softly, concern thick in his voice, and for the first time in months, she didn’t fight it. She just listened, and let him love her.

-

“God, I am truly pathetic,” She muttered, sipping her coffee with a scowl in between the maple ladened pancakes going down with a vicious chomp on her fork. Her other hand was occupied holding a bag of frozen peas to her head, where a nice dark bruise was spreading its way over the right side of her face, spider webbing out into a black eye. 

“You’re not pathetic, everyone makes mistakes,” Spencer tried reassuring her, but he couldn’t help but smile as she devoured breakfast with the anger of a raccoon being dragged from a garbage bin, “You’re safe, that’s all that matters,” 

She sighed, and Spencer didn’t actually think she had ever been so grumpy around him before, “Spencer, look at me,” He did, he had been all morning, but he did as he was told anyway, “I’m a federal agent who took molly from a frat boy all because I can’t just grieve like a normal person and cry my pathetic little heart out and be done with it. I crashed your night because I can’t even handle a little ecstasy without needing supervision and I just got into a fight with your bedframe,” She finished with a huff, dipping her next mouthful of pancake in the puddle of maple syrup she’d created on the plate, “And the fucking bedframe won.” 

He smiled despite himself, reaching out to hold her wrist gently, making sure it was her turn to listen to him now, “Bug, I grew up being shoved into lockers and swirlied my whole life. I was the only kid in a classful of seniors that used to wedgie me so hard I had to have the school librarian, Mrs Addler, walk me between classes. Believe me, I’ve seen pathetic and you’re not- why are you crying, Bug, don’t cry,”

He remembered this bit, the mood swings, when he would pendulum between exhaustion and irritation straight into sadness and hopelessness, like there would never be an impasse between them unless he did more of the thing that had made him feel so awful in the first place. Still, he gently took the bag of now slightly soggy peas from her head, wrapping an arm around her back and scooching his chair to sit next to hers as she dropped onto his shoulder with a weepy sniff. 

“I’m crying because I just thought of baby you all alone with Mrs Addler-” She sobbed loudly, and his heart bled out in his chest with warmth. No one had ever cried for him. “How could they be so cruel to you, I swear if we ever see those bastards, I’ll show them how we settled things in Russia-” 

He chuckled, shaking his head, and she snuggled closer to him the way she had last night when the only thing keeping her on earth had been his body heat. 

“It wasn’t all bad, she used to share her butterscotch with me,” He said with a small smile when she raised a wet glance at him. 

“You know, you never have to be alone again, right?” Bugsy murmured, and he swore his heart might have just jumped right up into his mouth then and there, “You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I promise I’ll never leave you again. That was… selfish of me, I’m sorry I was so selfish.” 

Spencer felt his throat tighten as he looked at her, innocent and entirely truthful, like he could ask anything from her right this second and her god’s honest words would be ‘Anything for you, Spencer, I’d do anything for you.’ He had never had anyone look at him like that, nothing even close. 

“You’re my best friend too. And you weren’t selfish, you were grieving,” He choked out, and she tucked herself beneath his chin then, satisfied with the response, but his stomach turned sour when he remembered what he was going to tell her last night, what he should have told her months, years, ago instead of lying to her. Because he knew she would understand, knew she would get him the way no one else had even tried to, because she was just her. “I have to tell you something,”

She sat up straight, sensing the seriousness in his tone, and looked at him with imploring eyes, still sleep-addled and slightly wet around the edges. 

He cleared his throat, “When I told you I was allergic to narcotics since I was born, that wasn’t entirely true, and I’m sorry I lied to you,” Her brows softened, creasing in a way that told him she was worried, or she knew where he was heading but couldn’t find a voice in her to say anything. He ran clammy palms over his pyjama pants, “There was a case, a while back, where we were tracking an UnSub to this farmhouse in the middle of Atlanta. Me and JJ got split up and the UnSub took me hostage in his father’s shed,” 

She stayed quiet, but she quickly took his hand in hers when she saw him fidgeting with it in his lap. He smiled at her weakly, and squeezed her fingers gently, telling her he was okay to talk about it no matter if his chest was rattling and his face felt like fire. 

“He was very sick, the UnSub. Tobias. He took on an alter of his dead father because he couldn't handle life without him. Even though his father was extremely violent and abusive, he still loved him enough to never want to let him go,” His lip pulled between his teeth for a moment, and he couldn’t look at her for what he was about to say, “Tobias tried giving me something to stop the pain of his father’s beatings when he would front and being a drug addict himself, the best thing he had was dilaudid. So, he gave it to me for the three days I was with him before the team found me,” 

“Spence,” She said softly, knowing he would hate to hear an ‘I’m sorry’ because she hated those two words with a passion, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” 

“No, I want to, it’s just a little… fuzzy in parts,” He whispered, and she nodded, gently knocking her head against his jaw to let him know she was there to listen, “After the case wrapped up, everyone got home and just sort of pretended things went back to normal, even though I felt like I was drowning in everything that had happened, and the only thing I could think that had stopped the pain was the dilaudid. So I took more, and more, until I was using every other day, sometimes even at work to cope with the cases,”

“Did anyone know?” She asked, lips pressed tight as she scolded herself for talking, but he stroked her hand with his thumb to show he didn’t care if she asked questions, “Did Emily know?” 

He nodded gingerly, “Everyone knew, but no one could do anything, or say anything, because otherwise Hotch would have to file a report on me, and I’d be forced to leave the team,” 

“So no one helped?” She said, and there was an unexpected trace of anger in her tone that he knew too well. He’d be lying if he said that there were more than a handful of times when he was at his lowest he didn’t curse the team out for not giving a single shit about his condition. But when he’d sobered up, when he’d got clean and back to his usual self, he knew they were trying to do what was best, that they were in uncharted waters as to what would be the correct approach to helping him that wouldn’t diffuse a bomb that could ruin all of their careers. 

“There was nothing they could do, Bug. If they said anything they would be just as liable as me for what I was doing, the same way Morgan and I aren’t going to say a word about what happened last night,” He pointed out, and she seemed bitter as if she knew he was right but hated the point of it anyway. 

She held onto herself for long enough hearing that, and he saw it coming before it came as a shock when she threw her arms around him, hugging him tighter than she ever had before, not crying like she had been, but full to the brim of sadness and grief and mourning, as if she was trying to squeeze it all out of him so she could take it on for herself. 

“You’re never going to be alone again, I swear, Spencer,” 

And he believed her with everything in him. 

–

Bugsy had been back in the field for five weeks now, looking healthier than ever thanks to Hotch’s insistence she joined Beth for triathlon practice despite the fact she really had started feeling more like herself. 

It had only taken six months, but who was counting, right? 

Sure, walking past Emily’s desk had stopped her in her tracks the first day she got back, and Morgan had quickly jumped in to distract her with a cup of coffee, leading her over to the kitchenette and far away from the empty table her sister’s things had once been on. 

She was still adjusting to this alternate reality version of the BAU where Emily wasn’t there to protect her and watch out for her, and where they didn’t bicker about who got to ride shotgun with Hotch because Bug loved when he would drive fast (he pretended not to notice but would floor it when they hit the freeway), or when they would butt heads over who finished off the biscuits Emily kept in her secret stash (it was almost always Bugsy sharing them with Spencer and Penelope, when the three of them would gossip in Pen’s lair at lunchtime.)

She was adjusting, slowly yes, but there was one thing to keep her going, to keep her holding her head high as she walked past Emily’s picture on the way, full of smiles and dark hair the day she’d been instated in the bureau, her excitement tangible even through a piece of paper and a thin sheet of glass. 

There was one thing keeping her going, and it wasn’t Penelope’s cheerful good mornings she showered her in the minute she entered the building, it wasn’t Beth’s runs that would take everything out of her even though she felt stronger than she ever had, it wasn’t Rossi’s insistence on cooking for her once or twice a week because ‘he had more wine he could ever need alone and she could stir the pasta while he chopped the meat’, and it wasn’t even Spencer sticking to her side like damn velcro since she had been back. Although, they played a pretty big part in it. 

No, the one thing keeping her going was revenge. 

Morgan had let it slip accidentally, the morning she had come back into the headquarters to fill in some forms with Hotch and Strauss before Hotch was reassigned to Pakistan, when she had slinked into his office with an apology ready at her lips for the way she had behaved, to which he was going to say he had no idea what she was talking about because that was how things had to be, only to find file upon file upon caseload on Ian Doyle splayed all over his desk, and she quickly realised Derek was not one to let sleeping dogs lie either. 

And, reluctantly, he had let her help, because he hated the idea of them keeping secrets from her. Especially ones that involved them secretly tracking down the guy who killed her sister, who had threatened to abduct, torture and kill her if Emily hadn’t gone after him first. 

Because Bugsy was always going to be her little sister, no matter how grown and headstrong and stubborn as an ass she was. And Emily had had zero intention of letting Bugsy come even close to danger at the hands of Ian Doyle or any other motherfucker dumb enough to think they’d get away unscathed making threats to her sister. Which was why Emily had been the one to track him down first, no matter who she had to trample on, what lines she had to cross.

And now it was Bug’s turn to reciprocate the favour. 

The one thing that bounced around her head with every step she took across the BAU floor was how Ian Doyle would look when she dragged him to hell and back and everything in between, when she made him burn the way she had burnt. 

Hotch had been away on temporary duty for the month, bar the occasional phone call where he checked in on her directly or through Spencer, and it wasn’t until she walked into Morgan in a blunt exchange with his own cell that she realised he was perhaps closer to coming home than she’d thought.

The man nodded, and bid the mystery caller goodbye before he flicked a look up to where Bugsy had entered his office with a cup of to-go coffee and an expression of intrigue. 

“We got him,” Morgan said, and it was the three words she had been waiting to hear for two hundred and fifteen days. 

They had found Doyle. 

She was in the back of an SUV not even two hours later, strapped to her neck with tactical gear and two loaded pistols holstered at her hips. 

“You’re sure you’re alright to do this?” JJ asked from her place beside her, noting the way the girl’s leg was bouncing, her fingers twitching as the three of them crowded around the screen linked to the surveillance camera set up outside Doyle’s apartment, Spencer and David watching an identical feed in the next block over, outside the safe house his son, Declan, was supposed to be in. 

Only, when they’d arrived, the little blonde haired, blue eyed boy that was the only thing Doyle gave a damn about in the world was gone, two agents and his nanny lying dead on the floor. 

“Put it this way, JJ, I’m going in after that son of a bitch whether you guys cover me or not, and it would be real nice to have back up,” Bugsy said simply, like she was reciting the weather, not ready to rain hellfire on anyone who got in between her and wringing Doyle’s neck. 

The blonde woman exchanged a look with Derek, the two of them cautious about her behaviour, but thought better than to try stop her when she had just as much right as any of them for justice. 

Before any of them could say another word, a car sped around the corner of the cul-de-sac, veering and wavering between parked cars, narrowly missing theirs by an inch, and red-blue blaring lights came racing after it within seconds, the siren full blast and no doubt waking the neighbours. 

Or at least one neighbour in particular, as they spotted the curtains twitching in Doyle’s apartment, and they had their first sign of life in hours. 

“He’s in there, someone’s in there,” Bugsy pointed to where the fabric moved in the dead of the night, unholstering one of her weapons and bursting the back door to the SUV open. 

JJ clicked her radio on, speaking into her shoulder as Morgan was a hair width behind Bugsy, equally armed and ready, “We got movement on Doyle, we’re heading up to search his apartment,” 

“Be careful, keep an eye on the kid,” Rossi ordered, he and Spencer adjusting their positions in their SUV, waiting for forensics to show up and investigate the nanny’s house. Spencer licked his lips nervously, and he could only imagine what was going through Bugsy’s mind at that moment, wishing more than ever she could have just stayed with him and let Morgan and JJ catch Doyle. 

But she would never. She had nearly ripped Rossi’s head off for suggesting it even. 

–

She’d seen him move up to the roof, had taken the stairs in twos, and she felt like kissing Aaron the second she saw him for all that cardio paying off a treat. She heard Morgan panting behind her, urging her to wait up so she wasn’t going in alone, but she didn’t listen, not when she was this close to getting that rat in her grasp and squeezing the life out of him barehanded. 

She kicked down the door leading to the roof from the stairwell, her pistol drawn high and sharp and Morgan’s steps racing up behind her were the only sound for a moment. 

He was here somewhere, watching them, god only hoped they had caught him unaware before he could call in his own backup. 

Taking a careful step out onto the concrete, willing herself to take a deep breath and calm herself; she checked her nine o’clock, checked her three, before her boots crunched under her and she moved further out onto the roofing. Flicking a look around again, her eyes squinted against the moonlight that did little to no good, searching for even the smallest movements that would give him away. 

“I heard you wanted to see me, Doyle,” She said loudly, hoping he would fit the profile they’d put together and want to tie up his loose ends once he realised who she was, “Truth is, I’ve been wanting to see you too,”

She had barely a second to react as she felt something hard slam across the back of her head, and she realised he had hit her with a rogue, loose pipe, hard enough for her to stumble forward, dropping her pistol when his body soon followed to tackle her completely to the ground in the effort to grab for the gun himself. 

But she felt like body was alive with excitement, like the pain in her skull didn’t ache, didn’t matter, because she had him in her reach. 

It took her barely a second to bring her elbow into his stomach, winding him hard enough he weakened his grip on top of her, then another hit square across his jaw, another to his temple, one to his already crooked nose and she threw a downward thump into his groin for good measure. 

He hissed, cursing her something vile, and it was only then she saw the grey-blue eyes of the man who had killed her sister with no remorse, who had taken the person she loved unconditionally within a blink of an eye. 

“You recognise me?” She said, a manic smile on her face as she raised the other gun from its holster, kicking him hard in the knee she’d seen him limping on, a bullet wound shaped scar giving his weakness away in seconds.

She wasn’t the only enemy he’d made in that business of his, but she sure as hell would be his last one.  

He fell to the floor, his eyes wary as he looked up at the girl he had spent weeks collating photos of, the girl he’d had two of his best men tracking, snapping pictures of her going about her day to day life before he sent them to Emily. Because she would know what that meant no words needed. 

This was her sister. Her little sister she had fought tooth and nail for, that she had given her life for. Her sister, who had the same rock solid loyalty to her family as Lauren had. 

“Do you want to know where you went wrong, Doyle?” She asked, and her voice wasn’t calm like her body was, it was hiding the glee she was taking from his alarmed expression, like they both knew she was the last person he would have expected to be grabbing him in the night, “Your mistake, Doyle, was not killing me first,” 

She raised her finger to the trigger, feeling for a second the same thrill as when she popped that molly just to forget everything that was happening. Because she had tunnel vision, and pulling the plug on Ian Doyle’s pathetic existence was the solution. 

Until Morgan’s hand came over hers, and his voice was closer than she’d expected to her ear. She’d barely heard him creep up on her, she realised with a jolt. 

“Don’t do this, kid,” 

“He deserves it,” She spat, hating the sorrow in his voice when he pointed the gun away from Doyle who wiped his fingers beneath his nostrils and pulled back with a wince and a blob of blood over the back of his hand. 

“I know he does. But we need to find Declan, and we can’t do that without him,” Morgan’s voice was deep and bitter, knowing full well he had to be the one to take the reins as much as he would love to just let her have at him. 

Her nose scrunched in disgust when Doyle laughed at her annoyance, and she quickly holstered her weapon, pulling the cuffs out of her back pocket and helping Morgan yank him off the floor. 

“I got some friends that would love to meet you, honey,” Doyle said through a wheezing breath, despite Morgan’s rough hands shoving him forward towards the stairwell. 

She chuckled however, her face still bitter, her eyes something nasty and wild as she flanked his other side, “Don’t worry, I have some friends for you to play with too, Doyle.” She tightened her grip on his arm just to make it hurt, “I wonder how the Chernuses would feel about you and your men being so close to their turf. You ever fucked with the Russian Mob, Ian?”

His smile wiped clean off his face at that.

-

“How’s it going?” Hotch asked, and she barely had time to comment on the fact he looked rather dashing with a beard and a tan, or that he had lost ten pounds, before he was straight back to business, even after an eighteen hour flight. 

“He won’t talk. He said the only person who could have helped us find Gerace would have been Emily.” She replied, rubbing her hands over her eyes with a huff, “Just another dead end,” She threw the file onto the roundtable, which was slowly piling up with documents relating to anyone Ian Doyle had ever had relations with.

Hotch’s face tightened. He took a single moment to enjoy the calm that overcame the room, took a second to enjoy the fact she was looking normal and healthy compared to when he had all but barged into her apartment to force her on a run. 

Because he knew the normalcy they had found themselves in now was about to be flipped on its head, JJ confirming with a nod from the other side of the room that she was on her way. 

He turned to look where Morgan, Rossi and Reid had walked in, Reid stroking a gentle hand over Bugsy’s hair where she hunched over the table and flicked through some files for anything to keep her mind off of going into that interrogation room and ripping into Doyle. She flicked a small smile up at him as he passed her, leaning over her shoulder to take half her workload off her. 

She looked happier than she had in months, and he was about to take it all away again. Hotch swallowed the self loathing that threatened to choke him alive, and opened his mouth. 

“Everybody have a seat,” The team looked up at him in confusion, but followed orders, JJ moving around the table to stand beside him, the same reluctant look on her face when she saw Bugsy’s frown.

“Why?” Morgan asked, seeing as no one else was going to, “What’s going on? Everything alright?”

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team,” Hotch began, his eyes immediately flicking to where the youngest Prentiss faltered, “As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilise her,” 

Bugsy’s ears started ringing just hearing her sister’s name coming from his lips, said so casually and blunt that it felt like he had punched her in the stomach and she thought she was maybe over estimating how well she had overcome the grief. 

And that hadn’t even been the worst part, she quickly realised. The doctors were able to stabilise her. 

“And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need to know. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security,” Hotch said, avoiding the piercing eyes that were slowly melting between confusion to heartache to one she finally could land on, horror. 

No one breathed for a moment, no one said a thing as the words sunk in, and she felt her entire body wash over with a gut wrenching numbness as it dawned on her what he was saying. 

Emily never died on that table like JJ had said. She had never died at all. 

“What?” Her voice was tiny and childlike when it came out, and she felt like she was stuck in the world’s worst nightmare, like she could claw and scratch and rip at her skin just to wake herself up from this terrifying dream where Hotch had lied and Emily had left her and everyone who was supposed to care about her had kept her in the dark. 

“She’s alive?” Garcia asked, tears in her own green lined eyes, looking at Hotch with utter shock. 

“But we buried her,” Spencer found it in himself to murmur, because none of this made sense and if any of what Hotch was saying was true, then he knew things were about to become really ugly. 

“As I said I take full responsibility for the decision; if anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me,” And it was only then he looked at Bugsy fully, properly, since he had opened his mouth. 

He could have swore he had never seen such complete and utter betrayal written across someone’s face, let alone directed towards him. Because he knew that’s what it was. He knew he had taken every scrap and shred of trust she had placed in him since that day she ran away from her own wedding and found herself stuck in that very same office, hugging him tightly with her sodden veil and even more soaked white dress, he had taken everything vulnerable she had ever given him and spat it right back at her. 

He felt like crying but before he could think too hard about it, he saw Emily walking down the hall and her own face was just as, if not more, devastated than his own and he knew he had to be the one to stay strong. 

Garcia’s head snapped to the doorway, the sight of it leading Spencer and Rossi to do the same, and Morgan’s face morphed into anguish when he took a look for himself. 

Because there, looking like a glowing beacon of everything they’d been missing in seven months, was Emily Prentiss, alive and well. 

She seemed lost for words, her eyes falling to her sister who seemed to force herself to look up at her from where she was staring in wide eyed terror at the table, as if she was struggling to comprehend any of this, or like the building was falling down around her and she was in complete fight, flight or freeze. 

But she did, she looked up at her after a second, her face unrecognisable to Emily for a moment, and it took all of three moments where she seemed relieved to see her, before it curled into a vitriolic anger Emily had never, never seen from her. 

She looked like she was ready to kill her with her bare hands herself. 

Penelope was first out of her seat, practically flying across the room to grab her close friend in a hug, a complete bubble of sobs and wails, her pigtails shaking with her rattling chest as Emily hugged her tight to her. 

“Oh, my god, it’s real-you’re real- like I can actually touch you and you’re safe and not in that god awful box-” Penelope was a catalyst for the rest of the team standing up to take their turn crying on the woman’s shoulder. 

That is, the rest of the team except Bugsy. 

She remained in her seat, her gaze falling back to the mess of files that all of a sudden felt a complete waste of time, felt irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Who cared who was Doyle’s financial advisor between the years of 2005 and 2007 when Emily was alive and they had known the whole time. 

And the more she thought, the more furious she got. And then the more furious she got, the stiller she became; an atomic bomb ready to detonate at the slightest prod. 

“I am so sorry, I really am,” Emily said as Spencer had wrapped his giant arms around her tentatively, smelling her perfume and feeling his heart ache with how warm and alive and healthy her body felt. “Not a day went by that I didn’t-”

But a sound cut her off, one none of them were expecting in the slightest. 

Bugsy was laughing. 

Not the sweet chirp she normally gave, or the hearty one that came from her gut that they hadn’t heard in months, but something manic. Something frenzied, beserk. Deranged. 

Hotch’s head snapped to her, Emily’s too, though she had already taken note of the fact her sister hadn’t so much as moved from her feet, and stupidly she had hoped it was the shock sinking in. 

But her eyes were cruel, her teeth more of a snarl than a smile and the laugh she gave was that of a person over the edge. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back, she believed it was called. 

“She never made it off the table,” Bugsy imitated woefully, her eyes snapping to JJ, who felt smaller than she ever had under the hatred in them, though the girl’s nasty smile hadn’t let up, “You are good, Jennifer. You really got me there, hey maybe if the agent thing doesn’t work out then acting is alway an option for you,”

“Bug-” Hotch started, only for her to stand up so harshly her chair nearly tipped back, but she didn’t seem to care as she rounded the table towards him in a bitter chuckle. 

“And you! I didn’t know you had it in you. But very good, Hotch, very well played out. For a second I thought you actually gave a fuck about me,” She fist bumped his shoulder, a little harsher than something innocent behind it, before something spiteful settled in her tone, “But then again, you are nothing if not professional, aren’t you? I guess a suicide on your team would look terrible on your report card,”

“I think you need to calm down and let’s talk about this for a second,” Hotch tried to jump in, his brows furrowed enough to make him look annoyed but anyone with two eyes could see the worry that brewed there, that chased her as she retreated to where her jacket was slung over the back of her seat. She laughed again viciously, shaking her head. Grabbing her coat, she headed for the door where Emily stood helplessly, not knowing what to say for the best, and she thought for a minute her little sister was going to address her. 

But she didn’t; didn’t even look her way as she approached, and it wasn’t until Hotch rounded the room after her with a fixed gaze she showed any sign of stopping. Not until he reached for her arm with a tight grip, a call of her name, did she even halt in her step. 

“Stop, let’s just talk,”

“Let go of me,” Bugsy snapped, and it was the first time she actually gave way to the anger she felt, the amusement coming from a place of distraught long gone. She sounded pissed.

“Listen to me, we had no choice here,” Hotch barked, because it was the only way he could communicate when he felt this lost. And that’s what he was; he was losing her. They all were. “And I would have thought you’d be able to stop being so spoiled for one god damn second to see we were protecting-”

Her palm whirled around faster than he could have ever anticipated, slapping clean and sharp against his cheek, hard enough the air was sucked out of the room and his words died in his throat. 

Penelope gasped. Spencer’s eyes widened. Emily took a heavy gulp. 

“Bugsy!” Emily said in horror, and it was then her little sister’s eyes actually set on hers, every bit as cruel and hateful she’d expected.

“I want nothing to do with you, do you hear me? I don’t want to talk to you, or see you, don’t even speak that name, I don’t want it from you anymore,” Bugsy pointed at her with crooked, bitten nails Emily knew all too well, “You left me. You left me.”

With those three choked words, the other’s could only watch hurricane Bugsy whirl and burn and crash her way out of the room.

–

She sat on the steps to the federal building, perfectly dressed agents filtering around her with the occasional tut in disgust. 

She couldn’t really blame them; her face was wet with tears, she was pretty sure there was snot running out of her nose hastily, and between her free hand, the other of which was pulling at her hair, was a cigarette that swirled its grey smoke around her head with a horribly addictive smell. 

She heard footsteps approaching her from the back, different from the rest, and felt someone stop beside her, sliding to their ass on the step.

“Spencer, if you’re going to tell me this is taking seven minutes off my life then please can it wait for another day-” Bugsy started with a tearful cadence, only to be cut off by a woman’s voice. 

“I was actually going to ask if you had a lighter,” Erin Strauss said, pulling her own menthol cigarette between her lips, and Bugsy dug around her pocket for the cheap ‘I <3 Virginia’ lighter she had snagged on New Years, clicking the flame out long enough for her boss’s boss to light the tip, “I heard you gave Aaron a shock,”

Bugsy stayed silent, taking a drag that burnt her lips and tasted awful, but it was the only thing she could turn to that would calm her even in the slightest, even if it was just the chemicals.

“Bit of an understatement,” She mused, exhaling softly with a frown, “Did you know?” 

“Are you going to slap me too if I said yes?” Erin asked, and Bugsy gave a small, wet chuckle, shaking her head, “Would it matter if I did?”

 “No, I guess not,” She replied, breathing in through her nose, “I want to feel sorry, but all I feel is just … empty. Why did JJ and Hotch know what happened to her but she didn’t think to tell her own sister?”

“Probably because you’re the one she loves the most,” Strauss picked over the hem of her navy blue midi dress that had been pressed neatly just that morning, and now here she was sitting on the steps to her building helping a girl in crisis chainsmoke, “It was how she ended up there in the first place, right? Because she wanted to protect you,” 

 “She left me torturing myself for months that her death was all my fault; believe me protection was not what I needed,” Bugsy said harshly, her final drag reaching the brown stub, and she scowled as she doubted it on the concrete floor below her, tucking her knees up to her face and resting her head on them. 

Erin sighed, patting her on the back gently, not wanting to cross any lines for such a fragile girl, but not wanting to leave her entirely alone either. 

“Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family.” Strauss quoted, taking one more breath of her own cigarette before she squished it under her heel quickly. “Paul Pearsall,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bug asked quietly, tilting her head onto her cheek to look over at the woman.

“It means you can hate her as much as you can right now, but sooner or later, you’re going to need her, or she’s going to need you, and you’ll wish you never pushed each other away,” 

2. The one where you pretend to be a couple.

Her hair was shorter, Bugsy noted, where she saw the back of her sister’s head from her desk. It looked nice, not that she would tell her that. 

She wouldn’t tell her anything. 

It had been eight weeks, three of which Bugsy had spent taking a leave of absence and been forced to see the designated federal councillor for her behaviour towards Hotch. She had gone to the handful of sessions to keep him off her back, but had stayed quiet for most of them, except the one where she got the psychologist to tell her the dirt on her recent, messy break up so they’d have something to talk about at least.

She had only really been speaking to Spencer the weeks since she had returned to work, had handed the slip of paper that declared her fit to work to Hotch with a smug look on her face, daring him to extend her sick leave as punishment for the tantrum she’d thrown. 

She knew it was dragging, knew most of the team were at least trying to adjust to the shellshock of Emily being back from the dead, but then again, the rest of the team hadn’t been writing their own eulogy so the burden wouldn’t fall onto someone else if they ever found her unresponsive. 

In the time Emily had supposedly been dead, her mind had wandered someone cold and dark and alone. Worse than any of them had ever thought it had been, worse than they gave her credit for. 

Only for it to be fake. As though she was the star of her own Truman show, with a laugh track playing on loop in the back; her own friends, people she’d considered family, watching her kicking and screaming and fighting through every breath for some sort of relief from the pain, a pawn in their little sitcom of horrors. 

Morgan had forgiven her sister with little resistance. She’d always known that, to Morgan, trust was higher than anything in his books. Yet with some soft words and tears shed, Derek had cracked and accepted Emily back warmly like nothing had happened. Rossi and Penelope had just been happy to see her, happy to have her back and very much not dead, so convincing them she was innocent had been no big feat. The only other person who had put up nearly as much fight as her had been Spencer. He had told her about the spat he and JJ had gotten into for being an accomplice to their pain, but even he was beginning to warm back up to her sister, not that she could really blame him. 

Emily was putting in overtime trying to get back into her good books, while she couldn’t even stand to look at her without remembering how hard she’d cried when she realised Nico and Sergio would be in her apartment alone and confused if she had been sad enough to do something rash. 

“Good Morning,” Emily’s voice was nails in a chalkboard, two arms winding over her shoulder to plonk two take out coffees in front of her and Spencer, one with his name written in black ink on the lid and the other with a dozen hearts dotted over the cup, a little doodle of a lady bug and a bumble bee cuddling. What she supposed was meant to be the two of them. 

Spencer watched Bugsy fight the urge to roll her eyes, surprisingly somewhat progress for her since the first two weeks of Emily even being near her resulted in the two of them screaming at one another until they were separated. Emily was growing tired of being punished for trying to keep her sister safe, Bugsy was full of hatred for every lie they had told her. 

But he saw the way she immediately knocked the coffee into the trash without a second thought, ignoring the fact she would need to take out a very heavy and wet bin liner later, if only to drive the point home to her older sister. I don’t want your charity. 

Emily faltered for a second, her eyes snapping to him as if he could do or say anything to help her out, but he could only give her one of his awkward, straight smiles, because he had absolutely no intention of pushing Bugsy to heal any faster than she was doing like everyone else was, nor did he want Emily to feel like he didn’t care she was hurting too.

Emily gave a resigned nod, daring to pat her sister on the shoulder. “Better in the trash than thrown over my face, right?”

She moved away from the woman’s desk, shooting a disheartened look at Reid as she passed him and he murmured ‘thankyou’ for his own coffee, until the sound of JJ calling them into the round table room cut off whatever she was going to say back. 

Spencer thoughtlessly handed Bugsy his own latte, smothered with caramel and cream the way he liked it, and she took an appreciative sip without a word. 

He hadn’t brought up that night, hadn’t spoken about the way she’d pressed her lips to his for a split second the night Morgan had dragged her over to his apartment to sober up. And because she hadn’t brought it up either, he assumed she didn’t want to talk about it anymore than she wanted to talk about what had got her there in the first place. 

He had helped her brush her own teeth more than once in the early days of her grief, hell he had even had her lips against his, so when she handed him the coffee cup back, he didn’t think much of it when he continued drinking the hot caffeinated goodness. 

Bugsy was wired differently in his brain, everything about her was different than how he felt about everyone else. So if she didn’t want to talk about kissing him, if she wanted to forget it ever happened, then he would swallow his feelings and accept she didn’t ever want to do it again. If she wanted to keep the bond they had carefully crafted through days and months and weeks of being each other’s solace, then he wouldn’t fight it. Because he didn’t want to ruin it either. 

He just nudged her gently with his shoulder as they meandered up the stairs to the round table room, looking at her with the puppy dog eyes that usually followed her around when she was in one of her silent moods. 

“You okay?” He asked carefully, noting the way she tugged her files to her chest, smiling up at him nevertheless. Because she could never be mad at him, it was Spencer. 

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” She said, lowering her voice as Morgan trailed behind the two of them his own mug of fresh brewed coffee sloshing in his hand, “Pretend like you don’t forgive her for my sake. I want you to be friends again if that’s what you want,”

She’d noticed his sheepish glances when he met Emily’s gaze, unmoving from her side like he wanted to make it clear he was there for her above everything else. But she saw how he would smile and joke with her sister when he thought she was in the bathroom, or when they would return from a crime scene, working together again like a well oiled machine. 

They were still friends, even if she felt sick every time she saw her sister’s noir black bangs flick her way, even if her heart was aching and her chest heavier than she would have ever let on. 

“But you’re upset with her?” Spencer muttered back, with a frown on his face, “I’m upset you got so hurt by the whole thing. I’m essentially hurt by proxy,” 

She snickered, leaning into his side for a moment, pulling away when they reached Rossi’s office and began walking past the long window she saw everyone settling down behind, “I appreciate that, Spence, I do. But you were her friend first, and she’s my sister. It’s different for you guys. And it’s not like we’re dating, because then I’d be allowed to be upset if you were still friends with her,” She explained lightly, though she felt her chest pick up at the very fact she had let that silly little dating word slip past her lips. 

She had no idea where they were. He was the only thing keeping her together some days, the only one who understood her for all her silly, complex feelings and didn’t make her feel dumb or crazy for feeling the world so deeply. He was special to her in a way no guy had ever even come close. 

She just wished she hadn’t made such an idiot of herself that night with Morgan; wished she remembered anything of what was said or done, because things had felt electrified since then and she had no idea why. All she knew was she was falling harder for him every time he stood so close, or offered her his drink, or every time they had a movie night at his and fell asleep on his couch pressed together like they were meant to be that way forever. 

He sighed, still stuck on the situation, and shot her a frown, “I’ll never understand the rules,” Though he hoped she didn’t see how his cheeks tinged pink at the fact she’d brought up whatever it was between them too. 

Because he wasn’t entirely talking about her and Emily. Sometimes, he really didn’t understand the rules of telling your best friend you were in love with her. 

-

The press was calling him “The Circle of Eight killer,” no matter how much media liaison JJ had tried to do to stop them from giving him notoriety and possibly boosting an already inflated ego. But the team had already managed to profile that the killings were some sort of ritual the UnSub was using to turn his luck on a gambling addiction, or whatever suspicion he had mentally linked from the victims needing to die and being dealt a royal flush. 

“Eighty eight dollars, the UnSub’s getting generous,” She said grimly, her gloved fingers counting the wad of cash tossed over the victim’s body. Where they had usually found eight, single dollar bills and an eight card of any suit, his signature seemed to have changed on the most recent body and he had dumped a much larger sum of money, “There’s more remorse with this kill too; shot from behind so he didn’t have to see the victim when he did it,”

Bugsy slipped the cash into a clear baggie to send to forensics to see if they could pull prints, but then again bills usually gave a million possible UnSubs with how many people touched them. “There’s less rage here, an undoing,” Emily chimed in, her own gloved fingers checking the victim’s pockets for anything off. 

When they were in the field, Bug could hold her eye rolls and sharp tongue and resting bitch face for the sake of helping the victim’s families find closure. Because, despite how much she seethed in private about how Hotch, JJ and her own sister had conspired without her, she knew she could choke it down if it meant she could help someone, if it meant no one else had to grieve as deeply and gut wrenching as she had when Emily ‘died’. 

“There’s no sign of robbery either, wallet is still intact except his ID,” Spencer added, standing back from the body while Bugsy handed the evidence off to CSI and the chief on the case headed their way. 

“Is it even the same guy?” Agent Goslin asked, looking between Hotch and Emily for an explanation, Hotch shaking his head with a stoney look on his already tired face. 

“The ritual’s too similar to discount,” He said, Bugsy frowning and tugging her lip between her teeth in thought. 

“The change in MO makes sense if the UnSub is still refining his system, maybe killing the cashier at the gas station didn’t work so he’s back to the drawing board.” Emily speculated, her little sister nodding along with her in the first sign of agreement she’d seen all day. 

“Two eights instead of one could also be significant; I know in China the number eight symbolises prosperity, the more eights the better. As a matter of fact, in Chengdu, a telephone number consisting of all eights recently sold for over a quarter of a million dollars,” Spencer said, and Bugsy flashed a look up at him, her eyes thoughtful. 

“In ancient Egypt, the number seven represented completion in this life while the number eight represented success through ambition and determination in your reincarnated life,” She replied, peeling the gloves down her hands as they clung to her skin with tight clamminess, “And the eight pointed star is associated with the Babylonian goddess, Ishtar, or the light bringer,”

He nodded with her and he hated to admit that he loved that she managed to fill in the gaps in his own knowledge, like they were two puzzle pieces finding a way to fit together; like they were two halves cleaved from the same brain that hadn’t stopped growing in the entirety of her twenty seven years. 

That, and he’d always found her brain one of the most attractive things about her. One of the long list he could think of. 

“Why would he be doubling up on his luck out here, away from all the casinos?” Emily asked, because she was trying not to stand in awe of her sister’s fat brain that rivalled even their pretty boy. 

“There’s been another killing,” Agent Goslin stated, hanging up the phone with a tense frown on her face, “A guest in his room at the Sapphire Lady,” 

“Same ritual?” Hotch asked without a pause, because they were on body number five now and they were barely closer to understanding him than they were a few hours ago.

“No. His neck was broken. And he was robbed of $50,000.” Goslin replied, shaking her head, “Strange thing is? The killer left another $20,000 behind with the body,” 

“Money isn’t his motive here,” Bugsy input, crossing her arms while Hotch got on the phone to Garcia, “Atleast, not that guy’s money,”

“Garcia, is there a casino in the neighbourhood of Penrose and Morningside Avenue?” He asked, clicking the perky woman onto speakerphone. 

They heard a quick clatter of typing, “Uhhh, No casinos per se, but there’s a private gambling establishment right around the corner.” She replied helpfully, with another bout of her long, delicately painted nails against her keyboard. 

“Is it legal?”

“Yeah, but it’s ultra exclusive. They have a monthly high-stakes poker tournament,” She paused for a second, “Today being the day for the month, coincidentally enough,”

“Or no coincidence at all,” Emily said, as they began putting together exactly where this chain of events had come from.

“What’s the buy in?” Bugsy asked, though she already guessed the answer. 

“Yikies, $50,000,” And with that Bug and Reid exchanged a knowing look, her suspicion confirmed, “But, it’s a million dollar guarantee if you win,”

“What time does it start?” Hotch asked, Bugsy already rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingertip, willing herself not to be right about what they were going to do. 

“Later this evening,” Pen replied and Hotch thanked her, hanging up the phone. A second of silence spread around the crime scene. 

“So, if anyone’s got fifty k lying around, now would be a great time to share with the group,” Busgy humoured herself with a straight face, realising the paperwork that would almost definitely be declined if Strauss had anything to say about it the would enable them to borrow fifty thousand from the government. 

Because if they missed their chance tonight, she had no clue when they would get another. 

–

“Any luck?” JJ asked, Emily sat to her right, Rossi across from her. Spencer and Bugsy sat on the end of the table, the girl breaking a KitKat in half to share with him, which he accepted happily. 

“No, they don’t want to allocate emergency funds for the buy-in, I’m still working on it,” Hotch said shortly, his phone blowing up with messages, no doubt needing a lot more details if they were really going to get the money they needed. 

“Well, I can’t imagine why not, we’re only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money, so that FBI agents can play Texas Hold ‘em,” Rossi drawled, shaking his head with a cynical humour that was all they had to hold onto while they waited in limbo. 

“Hey, what about you?” Emily asked, something mischievous in her eyes as she watched David freeze in his seat, so like the old Emily that Bugsy felt her stomach turn.

“What about me what?” David said with a frown, pausing in his writing for a moment. 

“You could stake us the buy-in,” She suggested, and the other three members of the team turned their attention back to Rossi’s palling face. 

“You’re a best selling author,” Spencer chimed in, devouring the last of the chocolatey biscuit snack as she pulled another out of her bag. 

“No,” Rossi replied, slightly wide eyed at the suggestion of it, to which Emily jumped in. 

“Why not?” 

“One, it’s against regulations and I’d like to hold onto this job for a little while longer.” David said, his arms out in a defensive stance towards the four people who suddenly felt like his kids asking for the newest IPhone on the market for Christmas. 

“It’s a minor administrative violation,” Bugsy pointed out between bites, offering the second half again to her best friend who took it without delay. 

She could have given the whole thing to him to start with, and had the first one for herself, it would have ended the same, but she liked sharing with him. She liked being the one to split things with him when he cringed in horror at other people touching his food.

“And, two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork,”

“Poker chips are things!” Emily tried to reason, but it only ended with David scoffing in her cheeky, hopeful face. 

“Maybe just think of it as a new experience, I mean at your age how often does that happen?” Spencer said innocently, licking the chocolate from the tips of his fingers, noticing how Bugsy tensed up and Rossi slowly turned in his seat to face the BAU’s youngest members. 

“At my what?” He asked in an aghast tone, Bug grabbing onto Spencer’s forearm with a gentle squeeze. 

“Reel it in, reel it in,” She whispered, and he looked at her with a lost expression, willing her to explain to him where he had gone wrong, because he knew she would, “What he meant to say was this may be our only chance to get this guy,”

David chewed his words for a second, as if he was trying not to bite at the kids who looked between one another hopefully, and he wondered if this was what being a father felt like; handing his credit card over to two twenty something year olds and watching his bank deposit plummet in seconds. 

“All right. Fine.” He sighed heavily like he’d seen the fifty thousand burned there and then, “I’m a decent poker player, but I can’t promise that I can stay in the game long enough to…”

“You know what? I bet you’re a great poker player,” Emily started kindly, her gaze drifting over to the hazel hues that watched between them curiously, “But what if we sent in Reid?”

“I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump because of my card counting ability,” Spencer said, and Bugsy rolled her eyes. 

“They can’t ban you for maths, that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” She said, nudging his side with her shoulder, “They hate to see an underdog win, it’s Rocky all over again,” 

“Tell me about it,” He murmured back, even though he had never watched any of the Rocky movies, he just liked humouring her. 

“Look I know I’m not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not black jack. It’s about bluffing; reading human nature, head games.” Rossi pointed at Reid, who badgered over Bugsy’s shoulder for the cookies she had packed in her rucksack, “The kid does not have a poker face.”

“Which is why we’re going to send him with someone who does,” JJ chimed in, and it was then that the youngest members of the team looked up from where they had cracked open the packet of chocolate chip delights, near identical looks of innocence painted on their faces, like they really were kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. 

Bugsy looked between JJ and Rossi, who had equal parts hopeful and worried looks on their faces, before she glanced over to Spencer to see if he had any explanation. He looked as lost as she did. 

“Huh?” She asked cluelessly, as Rossi buried his head in his hands. 

At this rate was going to have to remortgage his house for wedding number four, he thought sourly. 

–

“I swear to god if this dress rides up anymore, it will be me who’s charging fifty thousand per head,” Bugsy growled, her hands frantically tugging the dress down her legs more. She couldn’t deny it was a beautiful dress, bunched around certain areas that made the most of her body, but goodness was it shorter than she would have ever picked out for herself. She was the last person to be a prude when it came to showing off just how alluring she could look when she made an effort, but this was something else. 

It was a striking red, meant to match the ruby of her lipstick and the vermillion of the diamonds and hearts on the cards spread around the tables in the room, flushed in between little plastic chips worth thousands of dollars, handfuls of dice being tossed over the green velvet surfaces, deciding whether the players lost their cars or paid off their kids college fund. 

They queued up to be patted down, as if they were heading through airport security or into a packed nightclub. A handful of bouncers waved metal detectors over patron’s clothing, dipping hands into coat pockets, trousers, even some shoes were ordered off in the name of a fair game. She swore she had never seen so many sets of weighted dice confiscated off one man who swore blind as he was kicked out. 

“Only fifty? You could rinse them for a hundred at least,” Spencer replied, his arm entwined behind her back, if not to hold her up in the clunky heels one of the women on Goslin’s task force had loaned her along with the dress. She smirked at him, pressing herself closer to him when they both saw a dozen eyes shoot towards her as they entered the building, and he tightened his grip just the slightest with a calculating coolness. 

He wished his cheeks didn’t feel so hot feeling her body so close to his, wished she hadn’t made such an effort to look the part of the expensive call girl they knew the UnSub had a history with, not because he didn’t like it, but because she made everything a little more difficult when she looked like that. 

He was having a hard time trying to calm the way his manhood brushed against his pants whenever she showed some of that saccharine affection, even though he knew it wasn’t real. Or atleast, was an extreme version of the love she usually showed him. 

The bouncers called them up next, and he let her go first, because getting her through would be easy. He was the one with the panic alarm disguised as a shot of Halitosis in his pocket. 

Spencer would never admit that his eyes fell straight down to the curves of her butt that seemed to be spotlighted by that damn dress. 

Why did she have to look so irresistible? He supposed that was the point; he was the mysterious young gambler that was going to keep them in the game long enough to spot the UnSub, she was the attractive, woman of the night brought only to boost his ego and as his good luck charm. She certainly wasn’t the only one, she’d already seen a handful of other women, tall as models and so toned it looked as though they hit the gym every morning and didn’t leave until sundown, primped and primed for their player’s delight. 

They were ten times better looking than she was, but to Spencer, she was the only woman in the room who he was envisioning ripping that dress right off. 

She was making it very hard, no pun intended, for him to accept the idea of them as just friends. 

The bouncer patted her down, Bugsy flashing him a cheeky smile just a little too forced for it to be one of her real ones, when the woman patted around her waist and hips for any hidden pockets or stashed bills. 

“You wish this was you, huh, baby?” She teased him with a wicked look in her eyes, and he could only smirk back, hoping his blush didn’t give him away as quick as he reckoned it did. 

He felt his knees weaken, worrying he might just fall to the ground there and then and be forced to crawl towards her if he had any hope of getting into the casino alive, but even that sent a new wave of lewd thoughts through his head, and he was grateful when the other bouncer called him forward to inspection. 

The muscled guy waved a metal detector over his torso, moving down to his trouser legs where he wondered with cynical humour if the rod he now sported in his pants painfully would set off the alarm. It didn’t, and he begged his crotch to let up even the slightest if he had any hope of keeping his head on his shoulders during this game, but the detector sprung to life the minute it waved over the alarm in his pocket. 

He produced the medical looking device, one they’d already planned and checked for faults, showing the fake prescription clearly to the guard, “Halitosis,” 

The guy seemed to frown, took another look over the gangly guy who was with a woman way, way out of his league. A woman who waited for him after her own inspection, a very real diamond necklace that had been a sixteenth birthday present from Steph around her neck, courtesy of her dad’s bank account and ten years worth of emotional distance. Whether he took pity on Spencer because Bugsy looked like the kind of girl who could chew up a guy like him and spit him right back out, or he really didn’t care about his medical condition, he didn’t know, but he waved him through without another thought, and they both took a sigh of relief. 

“You want a drink?” He asked nonchalantly as possible, wrapping his arm around her waist again, and he tried to not let his flustered demeanour show when he found slits cut into the side of the fabric, and he felt the softness of her hips under his fingertips. 

“My treat, to get you started,” Bugsy replied, something unreadable in the teasing of her eyes, and she leaned up to his jaw to steal a quick kiss there like any other girl wanting to be paid the full sum of her night would have done. 

At least that’s what she told herself, pretending as if her brazen action hadn’t caused her heart rate to spike. 

She got him an iced tea, because she knew he wouldn’t want alcohol, and got herself a half shot Moscow Mule, sipping the lime rim appreciatively. 

“See anything yet?” She asked under her breath, one hand trailing over the back of his neck, playing with the curls that sat there with vixen sly eyes that scanned the room. 

He forced himself not to moan at the sensation, and he worried it was too obvious to the other patrons in the gambling room just how easily he melted beneath her fingertips. He felt like a dog drooling after a bone, like she was shaking a lead in his face and asking for walkies, and he was panting beneath her, tail wagging and dopey eyed. 

Not the look of suave, mysterious stranger they were initially going for when they were coming up with identities for their covers. But at least it sold the part of a man desperate to win the jackpot if it meant he could spend the night with the siren woman that clung to him with a giggly sip of her pink straw. 

“No one looking particularly suspicious,” He noted; everyone was almost too good at a poker face, though he supposed that it made sense seeing the value of the prize pool, “You are getting a lot of attention however,” 

And she was. In fact, he was quick to take her hand in his own free one when he saw a group of men dressed to the nines, solid gold rings along their knuckles, diamond encrusted Rolexs staring back at him from their wrists, their faces dead yet starved when they drank in every inch of her skin, their eyes falling to where her dress rode up high, as she had whined about the entire way there. 

She chuckled, and something about it sounded like her own, not the woman she’d had to become for the evening, and she kissed where his jaw clenched in annoyance, “Not from anyone that matters, boy wonder,” 

And he felt his heart rest for a moment, because as long as she was with him he knew he could shift that big brain of his into gear. He loved nothing more than the click he felt when he was with her, like their brains and bodies just seemed to bluetooth to one another and they weren’t Spencer and Bugsy they were just them. A since cell amoeba. 

He smiled at her, and she preened under his attention, so genuinely her that he felt the vignette that had clouded his vision shift into focus, and he knew he could find their UnSub if she was there with him. 

He sat at the nearest table to them that was about to deal in, and within twenty minutes he was racking up a nice, fat pile of poker chips next to his iced tea.

Bugsy knew he was a smart man, knew he was good at magic tricks, but if he had turned to her then and there and pulled a rabbit out her ear hole she wouldn’t have questioned him otherwise. Watching him play was something else. 

It was entirely sordid, the whole hour of his first game was spent trying to keep her focus on any patrons sat at their table and the rest that seemed to be twitching, whilst also trying not to look awed at just how amazing his brain was when he won damn near every time. 

But she did manage to rip her eyes off him when she could, not enough to seem suspicious, just enough to scan the area for someone who could be their UnSub, her eyes quickly jumping to the guy on the table across from them with a large magic 8-ball tattoo across his bicep, unsurprisingly already looking her head to toe as he waited for his hand to be dealt out. He winked at her, a smarmy, cocky grin on his face, almost too confident in his ability to be someone to turn to suspicions and rituals in order to win. 

A serious contender, but nothing that screamed their UnSub. 

She looked around a little more, ignoring the handful of men who tried to grab her attention, who thought they were somewhat validated or interesting for having her look at them for a split second. They were just part of the wallpaper compared to Spencer anyway. 

It wasn’t until she spotted a guy in a baseball cap a few paces away from them fiddling with yet another magic 8-ball, though this time a key chain, giving it a gentle touch every time he picked up his hand as if it really had the power to change the values once they’d been dealt. 

From the quick glance she got of his face, he seemed to be running on an hour’s sleep tops. His eyes were rimmed redder than her lipstick, and his hair was damp with sweat and grease against his temple. 

Unstable if there ever was a man for the word.

She quickly looked back to Spencer’s cards, her hands weaving over his shoulders to rub his muscles gently, the signal that she’d seen something important masked as an affectionate gesture. 

The House called the end of the round, Spencer being awarded a heaped pile of tens, hundreds even a small few thousands thrown in there, to which he collected onto his tray they had handed him at the door. 

Bugsy leaned down with a girlish squeal, giving him another big, cherry lipped kiss to his cheek, to which he felt himself blush under immediately. Quickly dodging to whisper into his ear, it looked to the other patrons as if she was simply promising him an even bigger reward later for his winnings in exchange, “Nine O’Clock at table two, guy in the green jacket has an eight ball keyring he ritually plays with before drawing,” 

Spencer nodded, standing from the table with his winnings, using Bugsy’s as an excuse to angle himself to where she was talking about. He pulled her to him effortlessly, his long arms wrapping over her bare back, his neck craning over her shoulder to serveill the table she had indicated, and she quickly hugged him back with that fake giggle of hers, her body pressing to his desperately like the other ladies of the night he had seen with men three times their age. 

He clocked who she was talking about almost immediately, running a hand down her spine and squeezing her waist gently to let her know he’d seen him. 

They moved in tandem, just like they always had. 

A hostess came over to them, all big smiles and a tight fitted black dress, a log book in her arms of where everyone was sitting in the next round to keep a fair game. Bugsy took a look at him, wiping away the smudged lipstick on his cheek with a loving swipe of her thumb, nodding at him for a small bout of reassurance. 

“I’m going to go get another drink, honey,” She said loud enough for the hostess to hear, as she flashed him a flirty smile, “Don’t forget to wait for your lucky charm,” 

He bristled, a smile twitching at his lips at that, “I wouldn’t dare,” 

Because her message was clear. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m updating the team. 

She swanned through the crowd as if she owned the place, but then again a packed scene had never been an issue for her. She felt through her concealed inseam of the tiny cardigan she draped over her shoulders, until she felt the long bullet shaped object stuffed into a tampon wrapper that Penelope had geniously planted there to look like a feminine product. 

Her own alarm, the one meant to let the team know they had sights on the guy and to be ready. It was Spencer’s that would give them the signal to enter. 

She was fiddling with the damn thing when she felt it, a sharp crack across her ass as she was walking towards the bar, heard the laughter in the second she froze up. 

Turning on her heel with a tight expression, the anger burnt hot in her eyes when she saw the guy with the tattoo who had been trying to get her attention not even a half hour ago, watched him sidling up to her with a conceited smile. 

“So, has that twiglet over there paid for you in advance or are you going home with the highest bidder?” He said, his head flicking to Spencer who now sat at table two, counting his chips out onto the table and paying himself in. 

She smiled at the assailant widely, and it would have been pretty had it not been for the crazy look in her eye that twitched when he made a move to step towards her more. 

“I’m spoken for in advance,” She said lightly, eyes trailing down his outfit like she was trying to commit it to memory, over his defining markers like the slit in his brow and his tattoos that looped over his hands, “But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you real soon, sweetheart,” 

And she flashed him a toothy smile again, yet something was wolfish about it this time, like she was ready to lunge for him there and then. 

The guy wasn’t their UnSub but he had made it to the very top of her hit list in a split second decision. 

She waltzed away, securing herself another Moscow Mule she had no intention of drinking, and headed back to where Spencer was being allotted his hand of cards.  Their round started, Bugsy keeping a close eye on the UnSub who sat directly to Spencer’s right, and she found a little solace in the fact he couldn't have brought in any weapons since they had all been patted down at the door. 

It didn’t shake the feeling of edge the guy with the tattoo had put her into when she watched their guy flick a look over Spencer’s shoulder to look her head to toe, glancing back at Spence who was already glaring at him. 

“Is she part of the winnings?” The other guy to his right chimed in, sliding a stack of hundred dollar chips into the centre, two of the players already bust as they watched the others play on for the house. 

She saw her partner tense in his spine when he heard the man’s drawling voice, and she knew he was struggling to keep a lid on the facade they were putting on for the evening. 

Snickering, she ran a gentle hand through his hair, down the nape of his neck with a sickeningly sweet simper, “Sorry, boys. Only person who’s taking me home tonight is the pretty boy,”

One of the guys who had already busted out scoffed, grumbling under his breath, “Lucky fucker,”

And Spencer knew it too. He felt almost rejuvenated just feeling her near, a damn near cocky smile on his face when he pushed his chips into the centre of the table, barely flicking a glance at his hand when he realised he had almost certainly secured a winning run. 

Maybe she was his lucky charm, he thought cynically. Maybe he couldn’t blame the guy to his right for carrying a silly little trinket around with him in the name of luck if he was no better. 

“I’m calling,” The guy on the far right declared, shuffling two piles of his chips into the middle with the total pooling. 

“I’ll raise,” The UnSub cut in, grabbing some of his black thousand dollar tokens and clinking them one by one next to his opponents, “Eight thousand,”

What a surprise, eight thousand, Bug mused, squeezing onto Spencer’s shoulder again as he was quick to match the bidding and then some with his own checks. 

“$8,000, that’s fifty six months’ wage for the average person in Bangladesh,” Spencer said, doubling the bet with a flick of those long fingers of his. It was heinous how much his brain managed to warm her insides, Bugsy thought, hoping she kept her poker face intact, “Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?”

The two remaining players, UnSub included, looked at him like he’d grown a second head, and Bugsy fought off the urge to laugh in their face, because for a minute he was so Spencer like all she wanted to do was quip something back equally as smart. 

“Look, it’s eight thou’ to you, are you in or are you out?” The first man snapped, perhaps seethin with jealousy that the pretty woman wanted nothing to do with him or perhaps just pissed that the fresh faced teenager of a man was serving their asses up cold. 

“I am in,” He moved some more chips towards them, his eyes falling back to the guy they suspected was their UnSub with a challenge in his eyes, “And I raise,”

“Three raise,” The dealer declared, and the first guy huffed in defeat. 

“That’s too rich for my blood,” He growled, crossing his arms and flipping his dead cards over. 

“Sir, are you in?” The dealer asked the UnSub, and for a minute his eyes snapped to Bugsy’s where she was keeping a calm look on her face despite the fact her insides were stumbling with nerves. But she never doubted Spencer’s maths, she would stake her life on it in fact. 

“I’ll call,” The UnSub replied, flicking his cards over with another small token of a hundred, an okay run of cards but not an entire failure. 

Spencer met it with a couple hundreds of his own, revealing his four and his eight that met the five, six, and seven he already put down. A winning flush. “Straight.” 

Her smile was genuine, dazzling, when the pile of chips were pushed over to him, and she would have laughed with glee had the UnSub’s face not dropped into something devastated, borderline demented, when he saw his ritual had meant nothing. That he had lost despite killing his own friend and four more people as a sacrifice. 

He was unravelling fast, and it was then Bugsy knew they had only moments to confirm he was their guy obsessed with his suspicions and that damn lucky number eight. 

“I guess you won’t be needing this anymore, will you honey?” Bugsy reached over for the charm with a cheeky grin as the other patrons grumbled at their losses, only for the guy’s hand to come slamming down on top of hers with a brutal grip, hard enough she knew it was going to bruise by morning. 

“Don’t,” He hissed at her, and it seemed to click with confirmation in Spencer and Bugsy’s mind there was no doubt this was their guy.

Spencer stood up to defend the woman, only for both of them to be grabbed by security second’s later. 

“You’re going to let a man put his hands on a woman like that- would you relax I can walk,” Spencer snapped, watching the other security guard manhandle Bugsy just as roughly, pinning her arms behind her back, though she complied with a victorious grin, “Real tough there pal, grabbing on a woman half your size,” 

“Relax honey, I got a taser in my pocket if they really want to behave like bad boys,” The bouncers looked at her in alarm, and it was the distraction Spencer needed to reach into his jacket and trigger the signal. She gave the three of them a shit eating grin, and Spencer thought he might just love her even more, “Don’t shit your pants, I’m kidding. I charge extra for the rough stuff,”

Spencer was still laughing when Hotch and Emily barged past them after the UnSub, who was by now leaving out the back door. 

–

“Spencer, really, we can go back to the hotel and forget about it,” After revealing their cover with the bouncers, courtesy of one David Rossi and his famous face clearing their names, and the UnSub caught and well on the way to the nearest jail cell for questioning, Bugsy was more than tired and ready to strip out of the impossibly tight dress. 

“I want to see this guy brought to justice, think of him as another UnSub,” Spencer said, his arms crossed over his chest as they sat on the bonnet of a squad car out the front of the building, the tournament slowly trickling to an end with its patrons leaving for the night. 

She rolled her eyes, his jacket over her arms the only thing keeping her warm against the evening air. It would have been so much easier if they had been allowed back in, but FBI agents or not, the guards had clear rules against breaching the peace in such a high stakes game. A bad rep for having the feds show up on their busiest day of the year was not welcomed, just as much as they weren’t. 

“Except he’s not murdered anyone,” She replied, eyes darting between the guests leaving with their earnings spilling out of their pockets, “He’s just some dumb asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself and- it’s him,”

The guy with the tattoos, Mike Folio as would later be printed on the police report, had barely a second to grieve his losses of the night before Spencer had him cuffed against the squad car, yelling and spitting about his rights as an American citizen. 

It wasn’t until he saw the gorgeous woman donned in the candy red dress looking down at him with amusement that he felt the colour drain from his face. 

“Hi sweetheart,” She smiled viciously, “I told you I’d see you again. Spence, read him the Mirandas,” 

3. The one with the bank explosion

The tweed trousers irritated her thighs, the head band fluffed her hair away from her face in a way she kept trying to fix, and the brown pumps squeaked every time she walked, but her smile was dazzling nevertheless. 

“Okay, the TV movie is at Hall H at nine, can we go to that?” Penelope asked, reading from the pamphlet as Bugsy and Spencer all but ran to keep up with her. 

“Absolutely!” Spencer chimed in, “Do you think we can make it to the Captains of Enterprise at eleven?”

“Obvs,” Penny replied, fixing the bow tie necklace her and Bugsy had made not even the week before. She looked over at the younger woman, who had a matching K-9 pendant, because apparently FBI salaries did not take into account life sized robot dogs, “Thanks for coming with me,” 

“Ofcourse, I’ve been knitting this scarf for weeks,” Spencer replied, his eyes falling down to where Bugsy donned a Sarah Jane Smith cosplay. 

“Who are you going as?” She’d asked, the minute he’d asked her to go, because there were few things he did these days without her. 

“The Fourth Doctor,” Spencer replied, because he had explained in length to her about the concept of regenerating and had even flicked on some of the newer series for her to watch with him, “Tom Baker’s Doctor, he’s a fan favourite,” 

He showed her a picture of the time lord stood outside the TARDIS, a younger girl stood opposite him in a pink suit, large white peter pan collar hanging wide over her chest. 

“Who’s that?” She asked, pointing the girl with the cute bangs and pleated skirts. 

“That’s Sarah-Jane, or Sarah-Jane Smith. She’s one of the longest starring companions since she was the Third Doctor’s companion first and also was in the spin off show for her dog, K-9,” He explained, warming inside when Bugsy listened with raptured interest. 

“So like, is she his girlfriend or-”

“No, no! The Doctor is often speculated to be asexual when it comes to relations with humans. Sarah Jane was one of his closest friends however, and in the Tenth Doctor’s third season he even comes back to rescue her from a wedding set up by one of his enemies,” He said, and her smile pulled out widely when an idea popped into her head. 

“Well, can I be her? For your convention?” She asked, somewhat shyly, still a little unsure how the show worked in the fine details, “You know, since you saved me from my wedding?” 

He paused, because she’d never really spoken about that day she’d jumped into his arms in the elevator, holding him to her like he was the only thing that made sense. Bugsy was like that alot; giving him everything he ever dreamed in the moment and then acting like it was never a big deal the next. 

“S-sure! Yeah, that would be really nice.” He said, and she immediately started searching up what she should wear for it, “I didn’t really save you though, you know, you saved yourself,”

She snickered, nudging him with her shoulder, “You all saved me, I don’t know what I would have done if Em-” She stopped herself, swallowing thickly, and he saw the glow leave her eyes. 

If Emily hadn’t been there. 

Things were still awkward between them. There were no more catfights, thank goodness, though there also wasn’t any doting between the sisters anymore. It was like a clean break had slit between them. Emily had given up trying to warm to her, given up trying to get her to come around, and had instead taken the high road of waiting for Bugsy to make the first move. 

But Bugsy was nothing if not stubborn. So Emily would be waiting a while longer. 

“Hey, listen, next time I promise I’ll be the first one to object and then you can say I saved you,” Spencer joked, because he knew the subject of Emily stung her, because he knew she needed to stop thinking about it or she’d unravel into self hatred. 

She chuckled aghast, “Next time? I was kind of hoping to keep the next one, Spence, whoever the unlucky guy is,”

He shook his head, a fake look of disapprovement, “Sorry, rules are rules. You wanted to be Sarah-Jane, I have to crash your wedding with the TARDIS I’m afraid,” 

She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder as they flicked through the TV some more together. 

“Well, I mean if those are the rules,” She simpered, snuggling under his chin, “Does this mean I get a sick robo-dog too?”

She looked every bit the part he would have ever expected her to look. Down to the maroon tie, and the white dress shirt, and the matching tweed blazer and pants that made her look embarrassingly hot. 

He was about to tell her just how great she looked because she still seemed unsure, being a casual fan of the show not nearly as religious as some of the surrounding guests were, when Penelope cut them off in a near gutted voice. 

“Oh my god,”

“Penelope?” 

Bugsy and Spencer looked up to see Penelope’s ex beau, Kevin, dressed in a nearly identical outfit to her (though in Bug’s opinion he didn’t have the same pzazz as she did with the glitter and the sparkliness,) a red headed woman beside him donned in a police woman uniform. 

“Kevin, hi, you came,” The blonde woman replied, her face mortified as she took in just how pretty the other woman was, “And you brought a friend, CSU technician Sharp, how are you?”

Hannah Sharp, from two floors below them in the BAU, grinned tightly, as if she could sense just how disastrous the situation had suddenly become, “I’m fine, uh, you?”

Bugsy gripped onto Spence’s arm tightly, hating the turn this was taking, every second of it. 

“I am also fine,” Pen replied, though she looked as though she was ready to float outside of her body any minute now. “Okay, well, see ya,”

“You’re not gonna go in?” Kevin asked, his eyes crestfallen when he saw Penelope also grab onto the boy genius’ arm, and he cursed Spencer Reid for getting so many attractive women. 

“Actually, we just went in and it’s super lame,” Bugsy interrupted, flashing a disjointed smile at the two of them, turning to usher her best friend away before he could call her out in her lie. “So we’re leaving,”

“Oh, okay,” Kevin replied, his date all but forgotten as the three of them made a sharp exit, a wince on the youngest Prentiss’ face when they got far enough that the girl could cringe in peace, “Well, great costumes,” 

“Yeah, you too,” Penelope called back, her heels practically leaving tire marks with how fast she had sped away from her ex that was opening fresh wounds as they spoke. At work they were separated by a whole floor, so it wasn’t quite so scathing to see each other around or even hear of one another, but to be brought out in front of what she could only assume was his new woman was horrifying.

Bugsy was at her side immediately, grabbing onto her hand with a squeezing grip. 

“Well, that was awkward,” Spencer noted aloud, and Bugsy lightly slapped his arm for him to shut up, her eyes wide with worry. 

He looked at her in alarm, but her face told him everything he needed to know. Girl rules. 

He hated girl rules. He never understood them. 

“Oh my god, we used to come every year, I can’t believe he brought someone else,” Penelope sighed to the younger girl, who watched her with furrowed brows. 

“Well you brought someone else,” Spencer pointed out, only to have his arm whipped at again in a chiding motion, and he watched Bugsy stroke Pen’s back with a bite in her tone. 

“Girl rules, Spencer, girl rules,” He tutted at her, rolling her eyes as if they were a married couple and she was nagging him to wash the dishes. 

Sometimes it felt easy like that with them. Like she really was just his best friend and not the only girl who held any sort of romantic connection to his heart. 

“Yeah, someone I couldn’t possibly be attracted to,” Penelope stated, “Besides, he always thought the two of you were a thing anyway, oh god what if he thinks I’m your guys third-”

“Woah, woah, what?” Bugsy asked with wide eyes, “He thought me and Spencer were, like, dating?” 

Penelope nodded, and Bugsy couldn’t even look at him without stumbling over her words. 

“Well he knows we’re- like I mean we’re not even each other’s seconds so how could you be our third you know?” She said with a forced laugh, because she could feel her face going hot. 

Spencer watched her tongue tie herself into oblivion, thinking of any and every excuse as to why she didn’t want dating associated to the two of them. Because how could she ever feel the same way? He was just him and she was, well, her. So incredibly, beautifully her. 

It wasn’t until she bumped into an older gentleman waiting for his valet she even shut herself up. 

“And I mean Kevin shouldn’t have just assumed- oh sorry,” She whirled around to apologise the man she presumed was a fan of the early seasons of the show, perhaps even around when they first aired, though the thought died in her throat when he turned around, “Oh, Rossi?” 

David Rossi looked suave as ever in his age, a blazer thrown casually over his shoulder, a neat shirt and dress pants ensemble at his hips as he looked between the three of them, their costumes staring back at him entirely too colourful for a Saturday morning. 

He sighed, hard. 

“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” He asked with a tired voice, as Bugsy bounced back over to Spencer’s side with an incredulous look on her face. 

“Are you here for the convention?” Spencer asked, excitement bubbling in his tone as Bug grabbed his forearm gently, already sensing Rossi hadn’t had nearly enough coffee to put up with them today. 

“Who schedules a cigar aficionado event back to back with this?” Rossi asked, his eyes clamping on the pendant around her neck, “What is that, a robot dog?” 

“K-9,” The three of them replied, and it was as if it tipped him over the edge, his hair growing whiter by the second. 

“Kevin brought another woman, I’m plotting revenge. Do you want to help?” Penelope asked, her face still warm from running into the guy who was almost her fiance. 

“Know where we can get any horse heads?” Bugsy asked, her expression lost in though as Penelope gasped, “What? I’m thinking go big or go home. Also, horse head in the bed means they can't have sex-”

“I’m taking that as my cue to leave,” Rossi cut in, just as his valet arrived, “Now you know I love all three of you, but this is Saturday, and it is my day off, so I’m going to love you from afar,”

He ruffled Bugsy’s hair fondly as he took his leave, throwing his blazer over the passenger seat and bidding them a wave goodbye. 

They watched him go, wondering where it left them for a moment before Bugsy spoke up again, “So are we saying a definitive no to the horse head idea, because I’m sure I know a guy in college-”

“No, Bugsy,” Penelope hissed, her face scrunched in disgust, and Spencer swore she turned green, “Definitive no,” 

–

They had been half way through breakfast when Spencer got an emergency call from Hotch for a team of serial killers robbing a bank downtown, hostages and guns on scene. 

She had barely had time to whip the tweed blazer off her shoulders, keeping the shirt and pants on as Derek threw her a kevlar vest. 

“It’s definitely them,” Will said in his soft Southern drawl, JJ embracing him tightly to her with a worried expression. It had been him and his partner first on the scene, though unfortunately things had not ended well for her when they had ran into the three UnSubs slipping out the back of the bank and had engaged in a shoot out; Will’s partner getting a bullet to the head almost immediately, and Will narrowly escaping unscathed, but not before he managed to gun down one of the UnSubs in the stomach. 

So there they were, the UnSubs back inside the bank for safety since they were now surrounded by the city police, the FBI, the SWAT team and a handful of ambulances and medics on standby. 

“I only saw the King and the Jack but I figured the Queen’s inside too,” He added, JJ peeling herself from his side as they headed towards the building. 

“The media's calling them the face cards,” Hotch informed his team, all eight of them decked in their thickest vests and weapons loaded in full, “Seven bank robberies in seven months. They’ve killed one person at each robbery,” 

“MO?” Rossi asked, now dressed out of his smart, Saturday wear and something more akin to his usual business attire.

“Single gun shot wound, each of the victims has bled out,” Hotch replied, and it wasn’t until they turned the corner towards the bank did Bugsy realise just how packed the street was with law enforcement. 

Three or four choppers circled overhead with snipers and back up SWAT teams at the ready. 

“Serial killers with a thirty day cooling off period, and we’re only just hearing about this now?” Emily asked in an incredulous tone, her voice raised to accommodate the shouting between other chiefs and their units. 

“Headquarters characterised them as robbers first, killers second,” Hotch said, his hands on his hips as they all assessed the situation from afar. Naturally a few new anchors had pulled up to the scene as well and were setting up their equipment despite the officers trying to corral them away. 

“Oh yeah? How did that turn out for them?” Bugsy grumbled behind her thick, dark sunglasses, biting her lip from saying worse. 

“I disagreed with the original assessment, I was overruled,” Her chief shot back, because things had been just as cold between them since that day as they had with Emily. 

JJ was slowly reaching out the olive branch in her direction, and if it wasn’t for Henry being so darn cute every time he begged ‘Buggy’ to come play with him, she reckoned JJ would have taken even longer to forgive as well. 

“Why are we here now?” Rossi chimed in, eyes locked on Aaron’s frown, that seemed to harden every step they took closer to the bank.

“Because crisis negotiation is overseas.”

“What do we know about them?” JJ jumped in straight away with the problem solving, because even if they were out in the field and not in their pretty little round table room anymore, the UnSubs were still just pictures on a white board needing that red string to connect them all together. 

“They’re organised, they're efficient,” Hotch fired off, mentally running through whether he had loaded the pistol he kept around his calf for emergencies, “Each strike lasts about two minutes,”

Derek’s face scrunched in confusion, “They gotta be scouting out the banks in advance, why haven’t we been able to ID them off of surveillance footage?” 

“They hacked the security feed and turn off the cameras both during the initial canvas and during the robbery, until the masks come back on and then were allowed to watch” Hotch replied, and the eight of them slipped into the base of operation for the day; a wide trailer converted to house the high tech computers Penelope needed to keep an eye on the cameras with those magic skills of hers. 

Bugsy’s eyes landed on the black and white feed of inside the bank, her heart lurching in her throat when she saw well over forty men, women and children lined on their knees execution style, facing the doors to the bank to act as a shield if the snipers did happen to get a shot through the windows. 

The woman took the lead, a mask over her face with a doll-like expression on it, the other men soaked in blood as one fought to hold the injured one up for dear life. 

“Why haven’t they cut the feed now that they’ve been cornered,” Derek said with a shake of his head, his lips pulled into a grimace, “Letting us see inside gives us a tactical advantage, they have to know that,”

“Unless they want the audience,” Bugsy suggested, watching the jack slowly growing weaker and weaker as they discussed tactics, “Although the only one who really strikes me as the attention seeker is her, he seems more prioritised with the other male,”

“The masks add to their narcissism,” Spencer input with a nod, “Their personas are the royalty of poker,”

“JJ, you, Bugsy, Reid and Prentiss, look at past robberies, that’s going to be our victimology,” Hotch ordered, and they did as ordered with little delay, heading to the office they had set up in the opposite trailer. 

This was going to be a long day. 

–

“I can help,” Bugsy offered herself before the team even had a chance to protest. 

It hadn’t even been an hour into them pulling research from InterPol as to who their UnSubs were before they had made their next dramatic move; they had shot a hostage. 

Which meant they needed medics in there fast, fast enough to save the hostage and the jack if it kept the king from unravelling into a massacre. 

“What do you mean you can help?” Emily said with a scathing tone, “Bug, you can’t just throw yourself in harm’s way if you have no clue what you’re-”

“I did three years of a medicine degree alongside my biochemistry before I got bored of doing both and gave up on it,” Bugsy snapped at her sister, brows contorting into a harsher frown than she’d had in months. She preferred it when they weren’t speaking at all. 

“Because you were bored?” Derek asked, his face incredulous at the gall of the twenty year old they’d plucked from college and sent into the midst of the Russian Mob five years ago, “Did you not have anything better to do like partying or making out with guys- a whole medical degree on the side is your idea of downtime?” 

She shrugged, looking back at Emily with a glare who seemed to bristle at the information. 

“Can I speak to you outside please?” Emily said in the coolest tone she could muster, though even that sounded like a bite. 

Something shifted in the air of the tiny, makeshift office and the other inhabitants tensed up at the sight of the Prentiss women gritting their teeth almost identically, staring daggers at one another for a moment before they stood from their seats and waltzed out of the side of the trailer to where there wasn’t the bustle of squad cars or media to be seen. 

JJ looked to Morgan, who looked to Spencer, who seemed to have paled for a moment, and the three of them were out of their own seats to linger at the doorway in case things really did get ugly between the sisters.  

“Do you honestly think that throwing yourself into the line of danger today is a good idea or are you trying to hurt me to get back at me?” Emily seethed the minute they had stepped foot on the ground, and the scoff that left her little sister’s throat was something nasty. 

“Oh, please, don’t make yourself sound so important.” Bugsy snapped, whirling around on her heel to glare at her sister, “I’m not doing any of this to get back at you, I’m trying to save those hostages in there-” 

“So I just happened to have never heard about this medical side quest you set yourself on until now because, what, it just never came up?” Emily laughed, laughed, in her sister’s face, and Bugsy saw red even more, “I thought you were a better liar than that,”

“Maybe if you’d bothered to even speak to me before you needed something from me that day with the Russians then you would have known anything about me that wasn’t being your dumb little sister you can just walk all over like you’re my mom or something,” Bugsy’s voice was getting louder, and Emily’s smirk wiped right off at the sound of that, because she knew she could have been ten times a better sister had she not wanted to get as far away from her mother as fast as possible. “Same with Hotch, he never wanted much to do with me until his wife died and then who did he come to needing help grieving, none a single one of you, and who gets bitten in the ass and punished when I find out I spent seven months grieving like some idiot to that uptight prick who lied to me-”

“Do not speak about him like that,” Emily was shouting now too because Bugsy was truly holding nothing back on her. 

“Why? Are you going to pick him over me, Em?” The younger woman snarked, her eyes hateful and narrowed, “Wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest given your track record-”

Emily shoved her, like, truly shoved her back and it robbed the words out of the girl’s throat. Yet it made JJ gasp where they were watching from the crack in the doorway, wanting to break them apart but knowing they needed to fix it for themselves. 

The three of them hissed when Bugsy’s hand swiped against Emily’s cheek in a territory neither of them had ever wandered into. Emily was always too old to argue with her sister, too big to fight the way most siblings did with slaps and hair pulls and scratches, but Bugsy was a grown woman now; they both were. 

Emily swatted the same back to her own cheekbone, after a second of shock washing over her face, and it was like they were two cats fighting in a back alleyway over a scrap of chicken. 

Bugsy shoved at her around the tits, because she knew it would ache, Emily pulled at her braid with a yank that made Bugsy’s eyes water, the two of them banging against the wall of the trailer, their heads clunking together. 

“Fucking punishing me after months like some insolent child-”

“I would never have left you thinking you were to blame for my death- I would never fucking do this to you-”

This was childish, entirely childish, playground offences and girlish curses in between. The worst part was they knew they could do much worse, they knew they could truly hurt one another if they wanted to. They were both trained to kill, and yet Emily had Bugsy grabbed in a headlock like they were two infants fighting over a sandpit. 

Because they didn’t want to properly hurt one another in any way that would last. Never. 

“Get the fuck off me or I’m punching you in the crotch,” Bugsy barked, trying to wriggle her way out of her sister’s freakishly strong arms with a frown, “EMILY- I SAID-”

“I was trying to protect you- just get your head out of your ass for two seconds and listen to me- I was trying to protect all of you-” But by the time Emily had somewhat gotten her to stop squirming, the girl had grabbed her by the calf where she had been forced to bend at a forty five degree angle, holding her one leg up off the floor while she sweeped at the second one to knock her off balance. 

She had been known to shoot an assailant in the foot from twenty feet away to stop them from getting away, and yet she was resorting to simply pushing her sister over as a way to get one up on her. 

She felt like she was ready to finger paint and take a nap time next; like they were about to be sat in the headmaster’s office and have their wrists slapped with a ruler for not keeping their hands to themselves. 

But it worked, and in seconds the Prentiss girls were on the floor, puffing out of breath, Bugsy’s lip bleeding where Emily’s ring had caught it on the corner, Emily’s cheek red and raised from where her sister had a surprisingly strong right hook. They took a minute to breath, Bugsy glaring at the awfully clear blue sky, much too happy and cheery for the travesty that had been her entire day. And it was only then did she hear the other three members of their team exit the trailer, JJ going to help Emily up while Morgan's face appeared in the middle of the powdered clouds, something sad and sympathetic in his eyes and it was then that he held out his hand to get her up. 

She didn’t want to, had every intention of laying there and staring at the broad daylight until she managed to float far away from there and from where her chest hurt with betrayal and her lip bled with lies. 

He yanked her off the floor, offered her a cold can of coke for where she felt her lip swelling already, and she resigned to sit on the stairs to the trailer with her head in her hands until her temple stopped pounding or at least until she felt herself calm down in the slightest. 

Emily shuffled to sit down next to her, her breathing still uneven but she could tell because she felt a tentative hand on her thigh rubbing gently, in the motherly way Emily had always watched her.

Because Bugsy had always been her baby, whether she wanted to admit it or not. 

“Bugsy?” The younger woman huffed in indignance, pouting as she stared at her lap, because she felt the tears welling up already, “I’m so sorry I left you, you know I never, ever wanted to, you know that right?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice cracked as she finally looked over at her sister’s solemn face, “You told JJ and Hotch but you couldn’t even tell me? Did you just not want to come back for me?”

Emily’s brows pulled up into a sorrowful frown, and she felt her eyes start to burn too. 

“No, that was never a part of it, I swear, there wasn’t a day when I didn’t want to come home to you,” She replied, taking a deep breath in through her nose as not to start bawling her eyes out there and then, “I had to tell Hotch and JJ as a matter of precaution, not because I wanted to tell them and not you. Bug, I missed you every day, I missed Niko and Sergio and those dumb documentaries you made us watch,”  

Bugsy smiled despite herself, wiping a finger under her nose to stop the tears that had already started rolling there, “Well, I don’t know about Niko but Sergio missed you a whole lot,” She sniffled, rolling the Coke over to a cooler side to sooth her lip some more, “But I think he feels like you kind of abandoned him, and like you maybe don’t love him as much because he can be kind of annoying and, like, he’s real torn up about me telling him you died only to find your you’re not, like you can’t just do that to Sergio, Em, he doesn’t deserve that,” 

Bugsy’s lip was quivering by the time she’d finished, but Emily chuckled wetly, wrapping an arm over her shoulder and pressing their pounding heads together. 

“Are we maybe not talking about Sergio anymore, Bug? Are we talking about you-”

“No, we’re definitely talking about Sergio,” She cut in, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve, looking back up where Emily’s face was glistening with tears though it seemed like she had somewhat calmed under her sister’s gaze that wasn’t so full of vitriol hatred anymore. 

Emily nodded, a humoured smile on her lips, “Right, okay, my bad. Definitely Sergio,” She held up her hand, stroking down Bug’s cheek for her where her tears had started pooling, “Well, I want Sergio to know that even if he is annoying sometimes, that there’s nothing that could ever take me away from him again, cause even though I’m not his mom, he’s still always going to be my kid, you know?” 

Bugsy’s face crumpled in pain for a minute, sniffling and meeting Emily’s eyes, dark brown hues watching her sadly, imploring her to know how much her heart called out for her. 

“Really? You promise?” Bugsy whined, and Emily nodded with a sad smile, stroking the back of her braid that looked a little ratted and wispy from where it had been yanked at. She took a shaky breath, looking down to her shoes where they scraped against the steps, “Well, I’m sure he’ll love to hear that, I’ll tell him when we’re home-”

Emily laughed, kissing her sister’s forehead, and pulling her into a side hug. 

“Alright, tough guys. Let’s get back to working on the profile, Sergio can wait for a minute,” Morgan said, though his face fought off the smile that crept on his lips seeing two of his favourite girls finally at peace with one another. 

Bugsy looked five years younger within seconds, and they clicked back into place, hopping up off the steps to get right to work, cursing herself for wasting so much time on silly things like hating her sister, because forgiving her felt cathartic in a way she didn’t understand she needed.

Maybe they had a chance after all.

–

Bugsy swore she would never have an optimistic thought a day in her life again. 

Because just as they had thought perhaps things could look up; just as they had sent in a different agent medically trained enough to save the jack, their UnSub, that they’d identified as Oliver, had bled out before he could have done anything to save him. Without a second thought, the king, Chris, had shot the agent, and demanded he wanted Will next as retribution for his brother’s death. 

They had of course turned down the offer in a heartbeat but the moment everyone turned their backs, Will, ten times the cop Bugsy could ever hope to be, had walked into the bank with his arms raised in surrender despite JJ screaming for him to stop from where Morgan and Hotch held her back from following him in.

Bugsy and Penelope watched from the CCTV in blood curdling horror when Chris put two bullets in him before he could even declare he was unarmed. 

“Did you see where he was shot?” JJ asked, her tone empty, her eyes bloodshot where she had broken down into a fit of wails as soon as the gunshots had sounded through the street. 

Bugsy opened her mouth to speak, losing all hope as soon as the bluebell gaze fell to her for an explanation. 

“Is he alive or dead, Bug?” JJ snipped, but she knew she didn’t mean it, knew she was just worried out her mind and grasping at straws. 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry,” Bugsy replied, Emily’s hand at the small of her back in a comforting gesture because she sounded scared. She wished Spencer was with her, he always knew how to make people feel better, but he and Kevin had gone back to their office uptown to use Penelope’s personal lair for better coverage on the BAU’s resources. 

“He was wearing a vest,” Emily jumped in, because Bug was tense and upset enough as it was, “He might be okay,”

“Might be?” JJ said humourlessly, her face hollow with sadness, “Alright we need to get inside,”

“JJ, it’s too risky,” Morgan tried as the woman stood up, a new found determination, because she refused to accept her partner, the father of her child, was dead until she saw him in a body bag for herself, “We don’t have eyes in there anymore,”

Jennifer’s eyes welled up again, and she turned to their unit chief; he was the only one who could understand just how desperate she felt right now if there was even the smallest chance he could still be alive. “Aaron.” 

Hotch took a breath, nodding to her with complete empathy, “Let’s go in,”

Bugsy leapt for the medical kit they’d kept in the cupboard, because if she could stop the bleeding as soon as possible he might have a chance. She was taken back to when she had gotten to Emily that night with Doyle, when she had nothing but the clothes on her back and a loaded gun to treat her sister with, when she had felt completely helpless. 

She refused to feel like that again, not now she’d been lucky enough to get Emily back. She refused to let JJ and tiny Henry go through what she did. 

Will wouldn’t die if she had anything to do with it. 

-

“Seeing what’s going on outside doesn’t help us inside,” Spencer said, standing behind where Kevin sat in Pen’s office, his hazel eyes falling to the surveillance footage of the bank live streaming from one of the choppers, where the familiar woman he worried for more than he could ever tell her moved behind a SWAT unit towards the front doors, a large med kit strapped to her back, a pistol at her side. 

He looked down at the blueprints of the bank because if he watched her get even ten feet away the bank he thought he might just throw up, even if there were four armed men shielding her.

“Kevin, can you possibly pull up each of the surveillance feeds prior to Will being shot?” He asked, quickly diverting his attention away from where they were at an impasse waiting for something to happen, Emily’s SWAT team moving slowly towards hers. 

“Sure, what are we looking for?” The other man asked, his fingers sprawling over Penelope’s keyboard as he did as requested, playing the older footage on the opposite screen, though even he was getting cold feet watching their team getting ready to breach the perimeter. 

“The female UnSub disappeared once before, if she wasn’t looking for an escape, what was she doing?” 

Spencer paused, because he couldn’t help when his eyes flicked back to the footage of Bugsy shuffling closer to the entrance behind one SWAT agent, and the doors burst open, the entire street pausing for a second to see what the movement was. 

The hostages. The civillians caught in the crossfire at the bank slowly trickled out of the doorway, their arms raised in peace, some crying in relief though there was no sign of Will anywhere. 

This was bad. Though he felt utmost care that the hostages had been released safely, he knew that the UnSubs keeping Will meant one of two things. One, that Will was already dead and useless to them, or two, keeping him bleeding out as a bargaining chip was their final play. Meaning they had no intention of releasing him, otherwise they would be left with nothing. 

If he wasn’t already dead, he would be any minute now. 

Spencer’s chest crashed in devastation for his friend and his godson, though it soon took a turn of terror when it seemed the same thought ran through Bugsy’s mind and she began stepping forward towards where the hostages were shuffling out in floods of tears. 

He saw Morgan and Emily yelling at her to stop, two of the SWAT team trying to follow her because they had no idea what had come over the twenty something year old rookie with a death wish. Spencer tried to ignore the way his chest clawed in horror, his eyes snapping back onto the surveillance of the female UnSub disappearing into the back rooms of the bank, completely ignoring the vault and the very clearly marked exit, meaning she had no intention of using either.

So what was she doing?” 

Spencer felt his head rattling with a horrid thought, hoping his intuition was wrong when he held the blueprints up to the screen, his skin turning to gooseflesh when he realised just exactly where she had been dipping out to with that backpack of hers. 

“Gas mains,” His voice was numb with fear, his body diving for their comm link to Garcia, where she sat in the trailer with Strauss and Rossi, watching the surveillance just as he was, “Garcia, get them out of there now,”

But no sooner had he said anything, Bugsy’s figure disappeared into the building, the SWAT team confirming that the entrance was clear, JJ and Morgan moving after her with their own agents protecting them. 

But she was already inside, his head screamed at him. Even when he heard David’s frantic voice through the radio they had linked to their kevlars, “ABORT, ABORT!” 

Even when he heard Hotch swear hastily, calling to his team to hold back, trying to yell loud enough JJ and her team could hear his orders to take cover. 

Spencer couldn’t truly take any of it in as he watched the large glass windows wobble for a second, a shock wave of what he knew was about to come.

The lines went dead, and he thought for a second his heart stopped. Because he hadn’t figured it out fast enough, hadn’t warned them before she had chance to throw herself head first into danger the way he should have known she would. 

Because Spencer watched the footage with a terror he had never known, not even in his eight years on the team, not even in his own situations as a hostage, not even when he was at his lowest and he thought the dilaudid was going to finish him off, alone and high in his apartment’s little bathroom, a burnt out drug addict who had so much going for him. 

Spencer had never felt the sheer, spine-chilling dread that he did when he watched, useless and heart broken, as the bank went up in a colossal explosion, a plume of flames bursting out of every window, shattering glass and cracking the brickwork, hard enough he watched part of the building start to crumble inwards. 

And Bugsy went down with it. 

Taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist t @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew grey gubler x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #Emily Prentiss x Sister!reader

[sayruq]

Six months ago, on the weekend of 7 October, I planned to go to the beach and swim with my friends in the sea. I lived by the beach and would go for a walk there most days to get fresh air. I also used to go to the gym every morning. Regardless of the 17 years of Israel’s blockade, I still felt some kind of security: I had my job, my home, my family, and I took care of my food and my health. Instead, that weekend in October, I woke up to the sounds of bombs. I went straight to the market to get food and basic essentials – I knew a war would be starting soon. I was only thinking about the coming days. For 200 days in Gaza, I’ve never felt safe or secure. When I go to sleep, I know that I might not wake up the next morning. My entire life has changed since October, and it will never be the same. Today, I don’t do a single thing I used to. Now, the only thing I have is my work. I constantly worry about those around me and try to take care of them. As a parent of two children, the worst feeling was knowing I cannot protect them. They can be killed at any time, and there is nothing I can do it about it. Before the war, I felt that I was the provider and protector of my family. Now, I just feel so powerless.I cannot secure the basic needs for me and family, like food, or gas for cooking. For the longest time in my life, I haven’t been able to eat any meat. I have lost around 13kg, I look like a completely different person. Any food that is available here is now too expensive. Finding transport in Gaza is impossible and there is no fuel available, so people can’t reach their families. I’ve lost so many loved ones. My best friend was killed. Another of my close friends was killed, along with his whole family. My friends who I used to see every day are all gone.

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #gaza genocide #genocide #famine #testimonials

[steddieas-shegoes]

cw: mentions of scarring, canon-typical violence, flashback (not graphic), minor body horror (again, not graphic, mostly just emotional feelings about scars)

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Everyone gave him weird looks when they walked in, quickly schooling their features when they noticed he was awake and watching them.

He didn’t know exactly what that was about.

They had him on a lot of good drugs.

But eventually he got weaned off them, and he noticed the pull of bandages on his side, and his arm, and his neck, and his face.

He was still unable to get out of bed. Still couldn’t even reach his arms above his chest for more than a few seconds.

But he damn sure reached up to feel the cloth and plastic surrounding his cheek. How had he not noticed for days? How had no one bothered him about it?

Maybe they had and he just didn’t notice. The morphine was one hell of a drug.

Wayne was soft, patient with him. Saw him touching it, saw the way his eyes filled with tears. He’d never been particularly vain, hadn’t cared much about what he looked like to others, but this felt bigger than that. This felt like he was changed in a way that everyone could see.

Add it to the list of things people could bully him for.

He cried himself to sleep, Wayne’s hand in his, silently comforting in the way he’d always done.

When he woke up again the next morning, he was alone.

It was the first time he’d been alone since the boathouse.

He could swear he heard bats outside his door, screams coming from the attached bathroom, flashes of someone dying on the ceiling.

He felt the sharp sting of teeth puncturing his skin.

He felt hopelessness creep into his bones as he gave in.

Maybe this time they would finish the job.

“Eddie!”

Steve Harrington’s voice broke through the thoughts, panicked enough to bring Eddie back to his hospital bed within a second of hearing it.

“Shit, are you okay?” He continued, hand brushing against Eddie’s bandaged cheek.

Eddie nodded once, closed his eyes, leaned into the touch.

He could blame it on any number of things if Steve felt weird about it. The morphine, the flashback, the loneliness.

“You’re okay, Eddie. I promise. Won’t let anything happen to you,” Steve whispered.

Eddie believed him.

He fell back asleep with Steve’s hand gently cupping the mangled side of his face.

If Steve could still touch him there, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Steve came by every day, sometimes in the early morning, before visiting hours officially started, sometimes well after Wayne had left to get some sleep. He always smiled when he walked in, a genuine one, not the one everyone else gave that was so fully of pity and pain he couldn’t bear to make eye contact. He sat down on the side of the bed, not the chair like everyone else, not scared to be close.

And every single day, without fail, he would run his finger along the edge of Eddie’s bandage on his face, watching his own movements and cataloging any changes.

Eddie sat quietly, still, scared to put words to anything happening. Scared to tell Steve what it meant to him to have someone acknowledge his pain in this way. Scared to think Steve could mean anything by it.

It was easy to pretend Steve was doing this because he cared.

Maybe he did care.

But he didn’t care the way Eddie wanted him to, needed him to.

So he stayed quiet, still.

He watched.

He fell asleep while Steve talked about his day, the kids, what Joyce made Hopper do around the house.

He woke up alone most days, but that was okay, because Steve would be there eventually.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

“You ready to get that thing off?” Wayne asked, gesturing to the bandage.

“Oh. Today?” Eddie suddenly didn’t want to ever be without the bandage. Removing it meant he’d see what was under it.

It meant seeing how much that place had ruined him.

The pull of the stitches hadn’t been as obvious with the pull of the bandage masking it.

But now it’s all he felt.

The nurse smiled at him as she put some antibiotic cream over the area, saying he would probably still have to keep it extra clean for the next week or so while the stitches did their job.

Wayne smiled at him in the way that meant he didn’t really want to smile at all, but knew Eddie needed him to.

Steve didn’t come.

Eddie didn’t sleep.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

He woke up with panic in his chest and a silent scream in his throat.

He woke up with Steve’s hand on his face.

Gentle, soft, but a strong comfort.

“Promise I washed them first. They said we have to be careful about germs,” Steve said quietly.

“You don’t have to. I know it’s…it’s gross. It’s ugly. I’m ugly.”

Steve shook his head. “No. Not gross. Not ugly. Alive.”

“Steve-“

“You’re alive, Eddie. You could have your entire face held together by staples and you would still be a miracle. You’d still be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Well, Steve’s charm wasn’t an exaggeration, was it?

He wasn’t even sure if the skin barely pulled together could blush anymore, or if the heat that should be on his cheek was burning on the outside the way it felt like it was on the inside.

“It’s gonna be awful when it heals. I saw it in the mirror.” Eddie could feel every stitch in his jaw, the few that spread across the corner of his mouth and bottom lip, the ones that were nearly up to his ear. “I’ll always have a crooked face. The scar will always be huge. It’s all anyone will see.”

“Then they aren’t looking.”

Eddie bit his lip, eyes searching Steve’s. “But you are.”

“No. I’m seeing. There’s a difference. I see you. I see what you’ve survived. I see the mark it left on you. I know it wasn’t just the scars that cover your skin.” Steve leaned his head down, touching Eddie’s forehead with his own. “We all have them. And we’re all still here. Your heart’s beating. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Who knew you were so good with words?” Eddie smiled sadly.

“Robin says I’m just good at not having a filter.”

“She’s right as always.” Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist, turning as slowly as he could to kiss his palm. “You’re not scared of it.”

“No. Are you?”

“I’m scared that you’ll change your mind when it’s always there as a reminder of what happened.”

Steve kissed his nose, making him smile for the first time in what felt like years.

“I’ll have the reminder that I got you out of there. That no matter what, the bats couldn’t finish the job. That you were stronger and you made it.” Steve let his hand drop, but quickly laced his fingers with Eddie’s. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you to trust me, but will you? For today?”

“Just today?”

“I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

“And what? Every day after that?”

Steve smirked.

His eyes were glistening with tears, but Eddie could tell it wasn’t sadness or fear.

“If that’s what I have to do.”

They hadn’t even talked about feelings, not really. Nothing that made any sense to Eddie, nothing that they could define. A part of Eddie was still convinced he was in a coma and dreaming this entire conversation up.

But even the nurse had noticed the way Steve watched him, how he touched him, how he fought for him. She said he’d been a firecracker from the moment he carried him into the hospital, dripping blood on the tile, staining the halls with his demands for help.

Wayne said he barely left his side the first day, only doing so when the doctors had told him they would call the cops if he didn’t.

Erica even noticed how things had changed between them, stating that she refused to watch her babysitter and the only DM she had respect for make out.

But Steve held Eddie, made him feel like he could get out of the hospital bed and live a life that wouldn’t keep him running. Steve was there.

Steve might even love him. If not now, then some day.

And Eddie could trust him today.

He could probably trust him tomorrow.

“Kiss me?” Eddie probably shouldn’t. The stitches tugged when he talked, and another mouth anywhere near his wounds was just asking for an infection.

But Steve would be careful. He knew what Eddie could handle.

It was barely a kiss. A graze of the lips at most.

But it was the best kiss Eddie had ever had.

At least until tomorrow.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #yall I am having thoughts about Eddie with a very large face scar and it led to this #I know people have drawn stuff before but I’m #I mean like what I am thinking is from his bottom lip across his entire jaw #to his ear and then down his neck #and it’s not remotely even or straight #very jagged when it heals because they weren’t really aiming for stitching it straight they just wanted to get it closed #also a firm believer that Steve has no filter at all and is SO GOOD at romantic declarations because of it #like he doesn’t edit anything #if he loves you you’ll know because he says I love you in all words except those at first #anyways wrote this during dessert for my besties birthday dinner so #not checking for typos hope there aren’t any lmao #if my phone autocorrected she’s probably wrong

[lazyjellyfish300]

Gentleman part 2 🌼💌

GeneticistCEO!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Intern College Student!Reader

Synopsis: after receiving a generous gift from Dr. O'Hara, you intend to thank him the next day. Word count: 5.8k

A/N: a little Fifty Shades of Grey inspired with the whole document situation. Here's what Dr. O'Hara looks like btw. 🫶🏽

TW: suggestive (no smut but talk of sex, alludes to sex), heavy kissing, bullying, little angst, some controlling behavior, Sugar daddy relationship, ooc Miguel , boss/employee relationship, I don't condone IRL

Part 1

@scaleniusrm @laysmt @to-the-endoftheline @oharasfilipinawife

------

You feel like you're floating as you read the note over and over again etching every curve and spike of Dr. O'Hara's messy signature on the card into your memory. You lean in, smelling the gorgeous flowers, closing your eyes, a warm feeling making itself known in your chest. This truly felt like a dream come true. The way this went from one of your worst days to the best in a matter of hours. This mysterious, handsome scientist being the cause. Everything about your life changed in a matter of minutes. You were going to go to bed hungry, and instead woke up to a 5 star meal and your favorite flowers.

"What is that?" Isla asks sharply, causing you to spin around, tucking the card under your arm. 

"Nothing.....just-ah...some flowers....and food."

"What the...." She takes a step closer, scanning you suspiciously. She smirks, "I didn't know you had a boyfriend." 

You feel your face heat up and try to shuffle away quickly in annoyance. She takes note of the way you're turned away, trying to conceal the card and who it's from. 

"Well come on, who is it?" She presses. Heather and Vivian walk up and stand next to her in mutual curiousity. 

"He's....um.....Greg?" 

"Greg?" 

"You don't know him." With that, you bolt for your room, leaving your roommates with raised eyebrows and suspicions. 

You lock your bedroom door behind you and place the takeout bag on your bed, first arranging your new flowers on the windowsill in a vase before you dig in. When you open the bag, there's three different entrees of your favorite things to order from the restaurant, two of your favorite appetizers, two desserts, and two large to-go cups filled with two of your favorite beverages and those delightful pebble ice cubes that gave that satisfying crunch and sounded so heavenly when it clattered against the plastic. 

As you took your first few bites of the piping hot food, you leaned back in your bed with a sigh of contentment. You could probably die and go to heaven with how delicious everything was, your belly and your bank account nice and full.

You stood up and changed into your favorite pajamas and lounge wear, putting a show to watch on your phone while you continued to eat to your heart's content with your gorgeous bouquet as the perfect backdrop against the setting sun outside your dorm window. 

-------

The next morning, you woke up, deciding that you'll get to Alchemax bright and early to give Dr. O'Hara a proper thank you. You figured this would be a one time thing and nothing you could do would be enough to pay him back, not to mention the moral implications of a manager doing this for one of his interns. He really put it all out there for you and you didn't want it to go unacknowledged. 

You wrote out a heartfelt letter on some notebook paper and grabbed a poppyseed muffin from the common area and hoped that he'd appreciate the thought behind it. You did your hair, dressing in one of your nicer outfits, makeup just the way you liked it and walked out the door with a spring in your step. 

-----

Alchemax 

Miguel took a generous sip from his coffee mug. It had a picture of him and Gabi as stick figures that she drew in preschool as the custom design he had printed on the mug. He looked at it fondly with a little smile as he remembered his reason for it all. 

His eyes widened when he saw you standing at his desk, a muffin in a brown paper bag and a note in your hands. 

"Buenos Dias." (Good morning) He said pleasantly. 

You smiled at him, your heart pattering in your chest a little bit now. "Good Morning..." 

The way you finished your greeting made it sound like you had something else to say.  Miguel waited, his face a little unreadable as he left the floor open for you to continue your thought. 

You clear your throat. "I just wanted to thank you, for everything you did for me yesterday. It's-uh. It's just unbelievable and...and I don't know how I could possibly p-pay you back..." 

You reach out, offering him the note and the muffin. "I wanted you to have these..." 

Miguel's eyebrow raises. 

"I-I know it's not a lot....heh. It's absolutely nothing compared to what you've done for me...but it was the least I could do." 

Miguel hums and sets down his mug, taking the note and the muffin. "You're welcome...and thank you, for this..." He peers inside the paper bag. "Poppyseed?" 

You nod, absentmindedly fiddling with your fingers out of nervous habit. 

"One of my favorites." He says with a little smile. However the smile quickly disappears as he walks past you to his desk. "I'm going to have you work with Dr. Drew and the junior intern group from now on." 

"Dr. Drew?" You give him a confused look. "But, I thought..." 

"I have something different in mind for you." He said shortly, sitting down and opening his laptop, peering over his glasses. "I believe Jess's direction will be better suited for your needs. Her group has an opening anyway." 

You feel your stomach flop. This was unexpected and you didn't have anything against Dr. Drew, but Dr. O'Hara's group was extremely hard to get onto and this was basically a demotion. Senior Intern just looked that much more attractive on your resume. You were startled at having this change so quickly, uncertain what this would mean for your career and the impression it would leave on your transcript. 

"Doctor...with all due respect." You said slowly. "I wanted to be on your team. I mean, I wrote that thesis, I collaborated on that project last year with Dr. Parker and I really really worked my tail off..." You feel a lump in your throat. "Please don't take me off your team." 

Dr. O'Hara looks up at you a little sternly from his desk, "I understand your concern, but trust me, this will be a better move for both of us. Jess is a brilliant scientist. One of my best. She will lead you better than I." 

"Is...does this have anything to do with what you did for me..?" 

Miguel cuts you off, a little harshly this time, saying your name in a firm tone. "Please. Do not argue with me. She's already expecting you and doesn't like to be kept waiting." 

You take a step back, a little alarmed and immediately regretful at pushing back. You turn around quickly, walking swiftly towards Jess's office without another word. 

-----

Dr. Jess Drew has a lovely smile for you when she sees you walk in. "Hello! Remind me of your name?" 

You give it to her and humbly enter the lab, a tall, young looking blonde with one side of her head shaved with the tips dyed pink, and another tall young man with curly dark hair are handling some lab chemicals with safety goggles on their faces, stepping back as the concotion begins to fizz. 

"Gwen and Miles here are studying chemical reactions. You'll help me supervise them." 

You nod, returning the kind smiles that they both offer you, before they go back to their discussion.  

"So, Miguel tells me you are studying Bio?" Jess asks, trying to start up conversation. 

"That's correct." 

"Wow, and you're going to apply to medical school?" 

You nod again. Jess smiles, impressed. "Well, good for you, girl. An Alchemax internship will definitely make you stand out." 

You give her a weak smile. "I hope so...to be honest with you, I didn't see this coming. I was kind of expecting to stay with Dr. O'Hara's group until December, then I could be eligible to apply for a full time position." 

Jess nods in understanding, a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. "Well, I've known Dr. O'Hara for over a decade now. If he made any changes, it's for good reason and probably best for your individual career path. Can't argue with the CEO." 

"CEO?" Your ears perk up. 

 "Oh..." Jess gives you a little embarrassed smile, nodding towards Gwen and Miles as she motions for you to join her a little further away out of earshot.

"Yeah...he recently started the whole internship program and likes to be hands on with up and coming scientists, so they're fully prepared to work under him and meet his standards. He hates it when people bring up his status as CEO. He just is under a lot of scrutiny and dislikes media coverage in general, so he keeps quiet about it...don't tell anyone I told you that." She murmurs to you with a wink. 

Finally, it all makes sense. The money, the lavish gifts, how powerful he was. It made sense Miguel was the elusive CEO of Alchemax that liked to hide from the public eye, despite Alchemax's blaring position in the limelight as the cutting edge of innovation for science and tech. A crowning jewel for the economy of Nueva York, putting them on the map as a technological hub and source of income for over 200,000 employees. 

You nod and go back to helping Jess, Miles and Gwen, continuing to work while being unable to get Dr. O'Hara to leave the back of your mind.

----- 

When it's time to leave and go to lunch, Jess stops you after Gwen and Miles had already left. "Hold on a sec!" 

Jess hands you a small white card with elegant gold trim around the edges. 

"You're wanted in the executive suite for lunch. Floor 99. And the code is written down here." She points to the neatly printed black numbers on the card.

"Now, this is important. You are forbidden to share this code with anyone, let alone tell anyone you were up there this afternoon. Got it?" Jess lowers her voice. 

"For-bidden. Meaning if you tell anyone, not only are you fired, but I am too, because I was the one who gave it to you. And I have no problem hunting you down... got it?" She shoots you a warm smile. 

You smile back, understanding she's mainly joking, but just trying to emphasize the importance of keeping it confidential and covering herself. You nod. "Absolutely...I'll, I'll guard it with my life." 

"Atta girl." 

You smile and walk out to the hall towards the elevators, impossibly wondering why on Earth your presence was needed in the part of the building less than a handful of people had privilege to access.

-----

You punch the button for floor 99. Nervousness and jitters rising in your body almost in sync with the glass elevator's ascent, passing floor after floor. 

Finally, floor 99 arrives with a loud ding. The doors open, revealing a polished marble hallway with a large, fancy door at the end. You walk down it, the sound of your shoes echoing off the walls, noticing the they are adorned with some of the finest artwork.

Cubism style paintings that must have cost a fortune. You pause at one of them, admiring the art, then resume your walk again, arriving in front of the large door. You look to your left and there's a small keypad. You enter the code: 

2-0-9-9

You jump back, startled as the door automatically, slowly creaks open, revealing a lavish, lounge suite. Floor to ceiling windows cover the wall on the far end you're facing, a wall with various pieces of tech and advanced looking gadgets are organized in a black case to your left. Gentle harp music playing from a speaker fills your eardrums. There's several tan, cozy looking sofas and sleek coffee tables in the middle. A water feature is on the wall to your right, tranquil water trickling down polished rocks and lightly splashing into a peaceful pond with green lily pads dialing up the degree of luxury. You walk towards the windows, taking in the afternoon cityscape of Nueva York and discover a huge buffet table laid out in front of it. 

Platters of the finest pastries and breads: croissants, Challah, assorted bagels, muffins, brownies, danishes, strudals, fritters, and the like. Next to it is freshly cut deli meats: ham, prosciutto, salami, pastrami, turkey, and roast beef arranged beautifully on wooden planks. Then a huge collection of cheeses  with cheddar, swiss, havarti, muenster, fresh mozzarella, a large wheel of expensive looking brie, raclette, camembert, and smoked gouda with elegant serving utensils.

Your mouth waters as you take in the sight of an enormous porcelain bowl of fresh fruit. The juiciest, greenest looking grapes you've ever seen with plump strawberries, fresh pineapple, delectable looking kiwi, freshly washed raspberries and mango. 

If you thought that wasn't enough food, there's also salads in crystal serving bowls: Wildberry, Cesar, Cobb, and a yummy looking pasta salad with bowtie noodles. 

You hear sharp clicking of stilettos behind you on the marble and you turn around. 

"There you are!" 

Lyla comes walking up to you with a smile, a little frazzled from all the other errands she's been running this morning, wearing a pink blazer with slacks to match, her brown bob hanging neatly around her cheeks.

"I'm glad you could make it! Miguel is running a little late. He's in a meeting, but in the meantime you're welcome to begin and get served up, then if you want to just have a seat at that table." She points to a large oak table next to the waterfall.

 "Oh, and what juice do you want, sweetie?" 

You blink, so overwhelmed by all of this fancy food and attention. This level of luxury something completely foreign to you. 

"Um...what do you have?" 

"It's all freshly squeezed." She says with a smile and adjust of her glasses. "Umm, lemme see if I can remember...okay, yes we have orange, apple, grape, cranberry, mango, passion fruit, grapefruit..." 

You think for a moment then tell her your selection. 

"Great! Coming right up. Oh, and there's also a coffee station, water station and assorted teas over there." She points to the end of the buffet table as she hastily walks into another room. 

---- 

A short time later, you're sitting with your huge plate of food and three drinks, munching away with a content look on your face, watching the city below outside the window as you dine on the fancy lunch. 

A door opens on the far end of the room and Miguel comes walking through, loosening his tie and shrugging off his blazer. Your cheeks heat up as he approaches, his white dress shirt clinging to his body and sparing you no detail of every bulking muscle of his figure, an endearing slight pudge of his stomach and a little smile on his face as he greets you for the first time. 

"Is the food to your liking?" He asks gently, draping his blazer over the back of the chair next to yours. 

"Oh! Um, yes. Yes, oh my God. Everything is amazing. Thank you, doctor..." 

"Miguel." Miguel responds firmly. "Please call me Miguel from now on." 

You nod, "Miguel..." 

Miguel's body gets warm at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He's a little ashamed because he'd love to make you say it again...a little louder eventually. 

"Well, eat as much food as you like. Feel free to take some with you. I'll have Lyla package it up for you." 

Miguel walks over to the table, dishing up his own plate. "I'm sure you might be wondering my reasons for all of this. Why I changed your internship and why I invited you here." 

Miguel finishes dishing up his plate, just a generous helping of the Wildberry salad with vinaigrette and a croissant, sitting next to you. Sauvage by Dior coming off his neck making you clench your hands into fists. 

"I invited you here because...I want to be straightforward with you. I'm very intrigued by you."

Your lips part, your fork falling out of your hand and clattering against the porcelain plate making you jump. A trace of amusement flashes across Miguel's face, then he returns to looking at you with a sincere  expression. "I've taken an interest in helping you with your career. With this medical school journey you are on." He continues, turning his attention to his salad, stabbing some of the lettuce.

"I'm a man who makes deals. If you are comfortable with it, I'd like to work out an agreement to where I provide you with anything you might need or desire in terms of funds, clothing, food..." He coats the bite of lettuce in some dressing. "In return, all I ask for is your complete loyalty and companionship. With the ability to negotiate what that looks like." 

You dab your mouth with your napkin, trying to make sense of what he's telling you. If you weren't mistaken it sounds like, "You want me to...be your sugar baby?" 

Miguel smiles, blowing a little air out of his nose. "For lack of a better term, yes." He takes a bite of his  croissant, then a generous sip of lemon water. 

"But, why. Why me? I mean...all the other girls in my dorm at my college, the smart women you work with, surely, there's someone else that would be a more equal fit to you. Why such an interest in someone like me?" 

Miguel pauses, setting down his fork. "Because I see in you what you don't see in yourself. You have potential. You're smart and determined. You've demonstrated you can work hard. You're different. I've noticed you're a lot kinder than your peers. You're humble, and you don't show off." He smiles. 

"You're a perfectionist and you put extra care into your work. I want to make your dreams of medical school happen for you. I see an investment that's very worthwhile." 

"An investment?" You ask. "I'm just a business proposition?" 

Miguel chuckles. "No...no....you are certainly more important than that. Traditionally, with these kinds of arrangements, there's a...a more intimate component to it." His brown eyes shine with the tiniest hint of mischief. "Typically, I'd provide all of this for you, and you'd give me something in return." 

Your breathing gets a little heavier. 

Miguel notices your flustered reaction and smirks, putting a reassuring hand on yours. The warmth of his palm radiating over your skin. "But, my mother raised me to give freely, without expectation of receiving anything in return. I would be fine providing for you as long as you'd let me. As long as you continue to work hard for my company, perform well in your studies, and agree to not to see anyone else while we are involved with one another, but I'm getting a little ahead of myself."

You remain silent, a quiet analysis underway in your mind as he slides a folder to you with a fancy ballpoint pen, the click of it alone sounding like a year's salary. "Open it." 

You obey and open the folder with shaky hands. A lengthy, formal agreement is neatly typed in small black letters, with ample blank space in between some of the clauses of the agreement, presumably for any changes you'd like to make. 

Miguel opens his own copy of the document, taking another fancy ballpoint pen in hand. "Now...this first paragraph details the money aspect of our arrangement. Since I sent you $1,000, that would be considered an advance on your allowance, and I would not send another payment until two weeks from yesterday. Unless, you are needing more before then?" He asks. "Why don't you list all of your debts for me and their respective amounts, and I'll write them down here." 

You nod, going through the list. There's your phone bill, your Netflix account, Spotify, your insurance, groceries, your three maxed out credit cards, a personal loan you owe the bank, as well as anything you need such as toiletries, medicine, and clothing. Miguel takes note of each one and writes it down. The room silent except for the gentle flick of his pen. 

"Perfect. These won't be an issue at all." He scans the next paragraph. "Now, for this portion, I need you to fill out this form." 

He slides you a new paper, and your eyebrows furrow in curiosity as you look at its contents. It almost looks like a personality quiz, asking for your favorite foods, drinks, places you like to go, your favorite colors, your favorite fashion brands, what makeup you like to use, jewelry you prefer, your height, and measurements. 

"What are these for?" 

"These are for me. So I can take care of you properly." Miguel says. 

You feel the area between your legs get hot when you notice one of the items. "F-favorite... position..." 

Miguel smirks. "Like I said, we can negotiate on that portion. I'm not expecting you to do anything intimate with me if you are not comfortable. But if you are..." He stands up, leaning over you a little bit. 

"Then I'd like to know, so I can pleasure you accordingly. In just the way you'd like..." 

You can feel yourself getting dizzy. Everything about this arrangement seemed so good to be true, you had yet to find any downsides to it. But it felt wrong, almost naughty. This man who was supposed to be your boss, now turned into your personal butler, chef, piggy bank, providing and pampering you with anything and everything a girl could possibly dream of or want.

"I...I might be okay with little things like...I don't know...kissing?" Your face heats up and you look down at your lap. Were you really talking out loud, in explicit detail about a proposed physical relationship with your boss? 

Miguel smiles and nods. "Alright..." He jots that down. "Anything else?" 

"Anything but...sex." you say the last word quietly as though it was a sin. 

Miguel gives you a reassuring smile, perking up a little bit in excitement at the idea of you opening yourself up to him a little more physically. "Could you be more specific?" He asks quietly. 

Your face burns and you look around to make sure Lyla or someone isn't around. 

"It's just you and me, cariño..." He says quietly, leaning a little closer to you. "I need you to be as specific as you can about what you are comfortable with doing together. Nobody will know, but you and I..." 

His tone is gentle, just above a whisper. You feel your insides curdle into honey. "Um...kissing, like making out..." 

"Mhmm..." Miguel nods slowly, writing it down. "Please, go on." 

"Um, touching..." 

"Over, or under clothing..." 

"Um.." you bite your cheek, trying to keep your composure. "....both." 

Miguel cocks his head at you, a smile curling on his lips. "You sound unsure." 

You shake your head "No I'm, I'm sure..." 

Miguel looks at you curiously. "You don't need to lie or say what you think I'd like to hear." He sets down his pen. 

"To be frank, your pleasure is positively correlated with my own. In order for mine to be optimized, yours must be completely satisfied...and I'd like to get as much as I can." 

Your eyes flutter and you swallow, nodding. "Ah-okay.... Um...yeah let's just do touching outside of our clothes for now." 

Miguel hums and takes note. "We'll revisit that part later, when we have more time. This next section is extremely important." 

He runs his finger down the page. "Now, these are just a few housekeeping items. I prefer minimal public displays of affection, and if there are any, they are extremely modest. Any public dates we go on will be limited so you are not spotted by the press. You are not to post of our relationship on social media. You must reject any romantic advances from anyone else. Does this all sound okay?" 

You blink a little at the rigid terms but nod. "Okay, yeah, understood." You look back down at the document, scanning over the next paragraph, noticing the next section, "Transparency...so, I'm allowed to ask you any questions I have before I sign the agreement?" 

"Yes, any questions you have, I'll answer. So you know what you're getting into." Miguel says, leaning back in his chair. 

"Have...have you had relationships like this before?" 

Miguel nods. "Yes, I have." 

You gulp, a little uneasy at his answer but you slowly digest it. "Have they been...employees of yours?" 

Miguel pauses as he recollects his memory. "No, admittedly. You are the first. That's why I moved you under Jess's leadership. To try and avoid any entanglements that would compromise my business."

You nod, biting the tip of your pen thoughtfully. "It says here you don't do marriage?" 

"Marriage? No. That's correct. I will not marry anyone." 

You hesitate. "Can I ask why?" 

Miguel nods, taking his seat next to you again. "I built this business from the bottom up. It means a great deal to me. I have entirely too much to lose. My fear for the security of my assets, along with the messy emotions of a marriage are why I refrain from entering into it again." 

"You were married before?" 

"Yes, once. She passed away shortly after my daughter was born." 

"I'm sorry..." You say quietly. 

"Don't apologize, it happened a long time ago. But, my not wanting to get married has caused many of the women who were in your position before to end the relationship. I understand if this is a deal breaker for you." 

You contemplate for several moments. Marriage was something you dreamed of, but with all of the amazing benefits he was offering you, perhaps you could put up with a ring being taken out of the equation, for now. "I think I can handle it." 

Miguel smiles and nods. "Very well...just know that you can terminate this arrangement at any time, and I won't harbor any feelings of animosity towards you if you do. I understand my requirements are extensive, but I intend to make sure it's completely worth it and you are happy and taken care of. If you sign this agreement, you will still be mine entirely. Anything you desire, anything you want. I promise it will be yours." 

His hand finds yours again. "Now...if you'll sign, please?" 

 

You quickly write your signature on the bottom line. A small breath leaving you as he tucks it back into the folder. "Wonderful...thank you. This means a great deal to me...with that said and done..." He takes you by the hand, helping you stand up. 

His eyes look into yours. You hold his gaze, a look of wonder on your face as you look back at this beautiful man who just promised to be all yours. Your wish his command. Every pretty and fine thing in his world at your disposal. He purrs quietly, bringing you closer. 

"Will you put your hands on my chest, please?" He whispers. 

You obey, your lips parting as you feel the dense muscle underneath your palms. A quiet rumble vibrating through him at the sensation of your touch. Your eyelids droop when you feel him bringing his hands to your hips. 

"And...I can put my hands here...?" He murmurs. 

You nod silently, wetting your lips. 

Miguel smirks at this, his own eyelids becoming heavy and he leans down towards you a little bit. "Can I have a kiss, before you go?"

You utter a shaky breath and nod, "Yes..." 

He carefully and gently presses his full lips against yours in a delicate kiss. He was softer than you were expecting. He hums quietly and begins slowly to open his mouth against yours, releasing little breaths into your mouth when you hold the kiss. 

Any anxiety you had about this arrangement seemed to dissapate as quickly as your lips met in a tender first meeting, your body now reacting with a mind of its own, your hands slowly sliding up his body, finding the back of his hair. 

Miguel grunts a little eagerly, pleasantly happy with the way you're responding, and he pulls you closer, sliding his tongue into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip, using one of his hands to angle your head, requesting permission to leave his kisses elsewhere besides your lips. You groan and tilt your head back, letting him gently move his lips along your throat. He chuckles against your skin. "Perfect...." 

He sighs and cups your face in his hands, looking at you with adoring eyes. "I have to go away on business until Friday..." He brings you back in for another kiss, gliding his tongue across your lips, smiling as he hears you moan open mouthed into him. 

"Mmm….this...should hold me off until then." He presses his forehead against yours. "In the meantime, don't forget to fill out that paper of all your favorite things." He nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours. "I also need your phone number." 

You beam at him and eagerly enter your number into his sleek phone while he gently kisses the top of your head, watching you do it. Before you part, he speaks up. 

"One more thing, with me, you will be looked after and offered personal protection." 

A man enters the room. He's tall and lanky, sporting a grey turtleneck under a fancy tweed black trenchcoat and circular framed glasses with dark brown hair. He's rather cute and looks like a mashup of The Matrix meets Peaky Blinders. 

"This is Noir. He will be your personal driver. You're to let him know where you're going at all times and if there's anything you need, okay? He has my number as well, so any questions or concerns you have for me, you can also relay to him in the event that I'm unavailable." 

"Ma'am." Noir greets you with a friendly smile and polite kiss on the back of the hand. "Your wish is my command. Your safety and comfort is my utmost priority. If you're stuck in front of a train, my only job is to throw myself in front of it." 

Miguel clears his throat, a little annoyed with Noir's dramatics. "Yes...right. Take her home, please. Make sure she has anything she needs until Friday." He pulls you back in for one more kiss and hug. "And I'll see you...." He kisses you tenderly. "Very soon...¿Vale? (Right)

"Right..." You agree, giving him another gorgeous smile. "Thanks, Miguel. I'll miss you..." 

Miguel gives you a warm smile and one more peck on the lips. "Awh...te extraño más(I'll miss you more)." He winks. 

"Take care of her for me, Noir." 

"You got it, boss." 

----- 

Noir drives you in a sleek Mercedes back home, opening your door and making sure you have everything you need before he drives off into the night. 

You walk in your shared dorm with a big smile, only to have it wiped away when you open your fridge. Your leftovers from your takeout last night were missing. You close the fridge with a frown and walk towards your room, pausing outside Isla's room. You hear her voice along with Heather and Vivian's speaking in low volume which abruptly cuts off when they hear someone approaching. 

"Hey..." 

The three girls look up at you from their places on Isla's bed as though you killed their cat. 

"H-have you guys seen my food that was in the fridge?" 

"Don't know, don't care." Vivian snaps. 

You tense up, wondering where this hostility is coming from. "I don't get it, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing's wrong, except Professor Hill came in and bitched at all of us not cleaning the bathroom." 

You take a deep breath. "Okay...but, I told you guys last week, I'm tired of being the only one who cleans it, and this week I'm not doing it, so one of you needs to decide who's taking a turn this time." 

"Um, actually it is your job this week. Since you want to be a whore and sleep around with the boss." Heather says, crossing her arms. 

You feel a knot in your stomach. 

"What are....w-what..." 

"Huh, um what, duh?" Isla responds, mocking you in a deep voice with dramatic facial expressions. "Stop playing dumb. Now you think you're hot shit, getting to skip out on work now that you're his little slut and he's sending you flowers?" 

“First of all, it's none of your business, second of all, why are you privy to any of this, Isla? Did you go into my room while I was gone?” 

“It's none of your business, since you wanna play that game with me, you hoe.”  she retorts. 

"It's not my fault he chose me over your desperate ass, Isla!" 

Isla pauses, then chuckles darkly. "Oh sweetheart...." She gets up, shoving past you and racing towards your room. 

"What the-" you attempt to run after her but Heather and Viviana hold you back, pushing you against the door. "Ow-stop! Please!" 

Isla takes the bouquet of flowers from your window sill and the card, "ThAnK yOu FOr tHe sAnDwICh and fOR yOur DiliGEnt woRK fOR mY depaRtmEnt. EnJOy- Dr. O’HArA!" She reads in another mocking tone. 

"Isla, those are mine!" Heather and Vivian restrain your arms, preventing you from entering your room. "Stop!!" 

Isla smirks and opens your window, tossing the gorgeous bouquet of flowers out of it. 

Your heart sinks from your chest to your stomach and you bolt outside, Heather and Vivian cackling at your expense. 

Your lip trembles and eyes fill with tears as you crouch down, trying to pick up the pieces of the shattered vase and the tattered flowers that lay on the ground. 

----

Noir notices you're not as talkative as he drives you to work the next morning. “Long night?”

“Eh…” you try to brush it off. “Just issues with my living situation.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Noir asks, adjusting his mirror so his gray eyes look into yours. “I'm all ears.”

You make a tiny scoff, running your tongue along your teeth as you recount your confrontation with Heather, Isla and Vivian, sniffing as you tell him how they've made your life hell and picked on you ever since you moved into the sorority.

Noir nods, taking silent notes in his head as he quietly drives.

“Hey…” Noir says to you as you go to exit the car. “Don't let the bastards get you down, little lady.”

You crack a small smile, nodding and entering the building with a loud sigh.

----

After work, as you slide into the backseat, you gasp at the sight waiting for you. A fresh bouquet of red roses and babies breath even bigger and more gorgeous than the old one, with a new note from Miguel.

This vase is shatterproof. ;) Please tell me if they give you any more trouble. You're more precious to me than any flower. I hope this proves it.

All yours,

-Dr. O’Hara

----

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #spotify #Spotify

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 5. Patterned behaviour

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 2.1k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw

Give me the judgment of balanced minds in preference to laws every time. Codes and manuals create patterned behaviour. All patterned behaviour tends to go unquestioned, gathering destructive momentum. — Darwi Odrade

It was easy to fall to the bed afterwards, as if she belonged there. Because she did now. Feyd was still catching his breath when she curled up beside him, her knees brushing against his hip, their sweat soaking into the bedsheets. A Fremen would’ve been outraged at the sight.

“Cruel witch,” he rasped.

“What was so cruel?” she asked, trailing a finger through the inky mess on his stomach. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

He slapped her hand out of the way — but there was not so much aggression in the move as there was a certain vulnerability, like an animal slapping at his master’s hand. Feyd heaved himself upward to get out of the bed, but she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him down again.

“Where are you going?”

“To wash myself.”

“Why?” she said, her touch softening into a gentle caress across the muscles on his chest. “I like you this way…”

“Filthy woman,” he laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners.

She couldn’t help herself and smiled. Even with his frightful black teeth — which in Harkonnen culture, she had read, was supposed to be quite attractive — his boyish nature came through to show something sweet and vulnerable. What a brilliant plan it had been to give him governorship over Arrakis… After Rabban, Feyd must have appeared to the natives like a heavenly angel. She reached up and caressed his soft cheek, his hard jawline, tracing the edge of his generous lips.

“Sleep, my na-Baron,” she said, laying down beside him, holding his gaze. “You will dream of pleasant things tonight.”

“Is that a promise?” he grinned.

She knew he was making light of his nightmares, and in a way dismissing them entirely. There might come a time when they would have to address them directly — if he was serious about wanting her to serve him as his Bene Gesserit, and if she didn’t escape first — but clearly it was not tonight.

Under her soft caresses, Feyd fell asleep quite fast. She followed, slipping first into a meditation, and then into the land of dreams. And even in her sleep, the only thing she felt, and saw, and tasted, was his body.

When she woke up the next morning, she noticed she’d been moved. She was higher on the bed now, laying against the multitude of pillows, and all covered up. Feyd was sitting on the edge, getting ready.

“You were cold,” he said without even turning. His hearing was better than she thought… “And, for that matter, so was I.”

“You tucked me in?” she smiled. “How sweet of you…”

“None of that,” he said roughly, turning to level a cold stare at her. “You did a very naughty thing last night. We’re going to have to… discuss it. But not right now.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat and nodded, but deep down she was already preparing for how to turn things to her favour next. He loves pain, she told herself. That is his lever. Use it.

As he continued to get dressed, she watched him. He wasn’t very good at it — probably was used to servants helping him, and they weren’t here right now — but he knew well enough how to put his armour on. She was almost tempted to help him, but then she remembered that she was supposed to have a different purpose.

“I suppose I should get dressed as well,” she said as she slinked off the bed.

“Why is that?”

“I serve you now. I should be there with you. To advise you.”

“Advise me?” he chuckled. “What do you know of military strategy?”

More than you, she thought, but she wasn’t even sure that was completely true. It was a mystery to her, what Harkonnens taught their young.

“I know Arrakis,” she said, coming to sit beside him. They cut a striking picture, him in his black armour and her in her naked skin, both looking equally confident. “And perhaps, my lord na-Baron, you can learn more about what a Bene Gesserit can do.”

“Or what she can’t do,” he muttered. But there was already a surrender in his gaze. He had decided to bring her along, now he only had to decide how to admit it. “No talking about me,” he pointed out. “To anyone.”

“Of course.”

“And no bragging about… about —”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

He chuckled. “I’ve heard that one before. I didn’t believe it back then, either.”

She didn’t miss the strange glances the other servants gave as she passed by, close behind Feyd-Rautha. They had breakfast together in a lavish dining hall, one with a long, black table and lights suspended high above. She’d never seen this room before…

His brother, Rabban, wasn’t there, and neither was the Baron.

“Do you always eat alone, my lord?” she asked him, sitting somewhere in the centre of the table, a respectable number of seats away, while Feyd sat at the head.

“Depends on what I’m eating,” he answered with a grin. “Besides, I’m not alone today, am I?”

“No,” she smiled. “You are not.”

He didn’t speak for the rest of the meal. He ate, in fact, in a hurry, eyeing her critically every now and then, judging her for how slowly she was chewing. And when he finished, he got up without even considering her presence. He paused in the doorway as he heard her scrambling to get up and follow, and bowed his head — he was suddenly regretful. Another habit of eating alone was, perhaps, his lack of consideration for others. He’d completely forgotten her by the time he finished breakfast…

She joined at his side without complaint, happy to already be doing her service: teaching him healthy new habits. Feyd looked at her quietly for a moment, and then they left together.

The day was spent in a strategy meeting, which he started without giving the time to any of his generals to question why she was there. The sight of a Bene Gesserit among the Harkonnen must’ve been rare indeed — or even that of a woman who wasn’t a slave or a serving girl.

They spoke their jagged language, and in phrases that were blissfully short. It was easy enough for her to understand even without a full vocabulary.

“Push them to the edge,” said Feyd as he stood above the map, fiddling with a neat little blade in his hands, a shiny thing of white silver. “The worms will finish what the storms do not.”

“Yes, sir, na-Baron.”

“Search scouting parties up ahead before you send in more harvesters. And I want a map of the richest spice fields by tomorrow morning.”

“Er, yes, yes sir.”

She eyed all the proceedings in silence, and in the mist of fear and anxiety, the other men completely forgot her. Their minds were so easy to read, their emotions so clear on their faces, on their hands, in the way they held themselves… And in their centre, Feyd, speaking to them as if they were Ixian automatons without any thought or feeling.

She waited for the meeting to be over before she finally joined his side and spoke.

“That was productive.”

“Was it?” he sighed, bracing his arms against the table. The door closed with finality behind his frightened generals. “I didn’t know you spoke our language,” he noted with a cocked brow.

“I am learning,” she smiled.

“Rabban left me a complete mess. It will take months to undo it.”

“Years. And you don’t have as much time as you think.”

“Really? Well, speak plainly, now.”

She turned, leaning lightly against the table so that she could better look at him. He was less sure of himself now than he had been around his men…

“If you push the Fremen too hard, they could go south. It is out of reach for us, out of control.”

“Nothing survives out there.”

“How do you know, if nobody’s ever been there but Fremen?”

He bit his lip and frowned, but didn’t disagree. “And you would do, what?”

“Relax the attacks. Give them a false sense of security. Bait them into —”

“Into exposing themselves…”

“Exactly.”

“But these savages won’t do that. They know we’ve got superior firepower. Their strength lies in their secret tactics.”

She shrugged. “You have a point…”

“But if… if we had to approach this like a fight between a stronger man and a weaker man…” he said, thinking out loud as he began to pace.

She looked at him and said nothing, letting the ideas germinate in his head.

“It’s late, it’s hot,” he sighed. “I’ll think about it more tomorrow.”

“Yes, my lord na-Baron. You still haven’t even had lunch.”

“I’ll have dinner. We’ll have dinner.”

“Another thing though… That map you requested.”

“What about it?”

“The spice fields on Arrakis are highly changeable and depend on many variables. It can take days for someone to calculate their frequency. Less if you had a Mentat. Or a thinking machine…”

Feyd chuckled. “Worried? Since when do you care about the fate of my men?”

“I don’t care about his fate. I care about whether he provides you with false information just to save his neck.”

“Hm… I’ll see what he brings me tomorrow,” he smirked, looking pointedly at her, “and maybe have you look at it.”

She paused, already unhappy with the charge she was given. Mathematical calculations were not her strong suit, but she understood she needed to submit to Feyd’s testing if she expected to be kept around.

“Yes, my lord,” she said with a light bow.

“Now, then. Let’s eat.”

She could already tell that his habits were changing. He watched her more closely and was clearly thinking about her, considering her from every angle. Although Feyd-Rautha made no effort to hide what he was feeling, she found it hard to pinpoint just what was going through his head that evening.

She met his gaze with more confidence than she felt but allowed him to watch her openly too, letting him enjoy the moments of peace between them. He seemed to only like speaking to her when the servants left the room.

“You like to watch, don’t you?” he asked, leaning back against his tall, elegant seat.

“I believe you’ve been doing the watching, my na-Baron,” she smirked.

“No, no, you know what I mean… I mean throughout the day. Us. All of us. You’re learning our language now? You’re studying our strategies. You think, you don’t speak…” he listed, his cold eyes set on her as their meals waited untouched before them. “Until my generals have gone…”

“Of course. I would not have them think your orders can be questioned.”

“Even though you question them.”

“That’s only for you to know,” she smiled.

Feyd smiled back. He suspected her of many things — both past and future betrayals — but in that moment, he appreciated her.

“Are you trying to learn more about me, my na-Baron?”

“Why not? You’re learning about us.”

“I think you’ll find me less inscrutable. If you wish to know something, simply ask.”

Feyd nodded and turned his attention to his plate at last. He cut into the meat, he moved the garnishings around, but before he could bring it to his lips he set the fork down loudly and looked up at her again.

“Why did you do that to me last night?” he quickly asked.

“Because you liked it.”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You’re not as good at it as you think. How did you know I would like it?”

She set her knife and fork down too, and let her wrists rest upon the table. He was pulling her into something she wasn’t sure she wanted to confess, and she knew she couldn’t get him to forget it without using those Bene Gesserit tricks he hated so much. Perhaps there was a way to still turn this around in her favour…

“I merely recognised what I knew so well,” she answered quietly, her voice floating through the penumbra toward him.

“And where did you recognise it from?”

“From myself.”

Feyd leaned back again, his lips pulled into a grin. There was doubt in his eyes, but the rest of him seemed so intrigued, so glad about this new development, that she could almost guess what he was going to say next.

He’ll want to see it, she thought. He’ll want to see me like that. Exposed. Vulnerable before him.

“Show me,” he said, confirming everything.

#Feyd #Feyd Rautha Harkonnen #Feyd Rautha #Dune #Dune part 2 #Dune fanfiction #Dune imagine #Feyd Rautha x reader #Feyd x reader #Feyd Rautha fanfic #Feyd Rautha imagine #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;littledeath

[wandasfifthwife]

birthdays ✩‧₊˚

— hockey!wanda x fem/afab!reader

all you’ve ever known is a skipped birthday, a missed celebration. your first birthday since you’ve started dating Wanda rolls around, what would happen if she forgot it too like your mother did?

tw: HEAVY TOPICS, discussions of past trauma (physical/verbal abuse, parental neglect/control, manipulation), established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst w/ HAPPY ending, discussions of thoughts spiraling (r wonders if W loves her anymore), R’s coping style is to separate herself, NOT PROOFREAD

a/n: this is the fic that won from this poll (it “won” at whatever it was at when I checked it after my exam)

series m.list ✩ ══╡˚2.2k words˚╞══ ✩ wanda m.list

The only time you can remember having your birthday celebrated was at school. It was the closest thing you had to a birthday anyways. The little goody bag your teacher would make and the birthday song sang to you by your classmates. Though your mother never showed up to parent lunch, or gave you presents, or even acknowledged your birthday—you still blindly thought she was a good person then.

If you had done well in school, at practice, and at home—she’d gift you with new ice skating equipment. Something she was going to give to you anyways, but tried to do it as positive reinforcement as a kid. The other positive reinforcement she gave just so you’d get in the ice? A form of alone/bonding time with her. She’d only discuss what was necessary, eyes strayed away from your own.

You were so blind to her manipulation, getting you into the sport only for her to use it as a weapon against you. There were times you enjoyed the sport, but it’s hard not to think of your mother when you enter on the rink since you’ve spent most of your childhood with her on it.

Once she got arrested and you were moved to live with your older brother—he tried to celebrate your birthday. For a few years you wanted to forget about it and you had, you never celebrated it except for your brother’s family leaving notes on your desk when you had stayed with them.

And now today was your birthday.

You had gone to bed with a slight twinge of hope in your heart that a birthday spent with your girlfriend would be different.

It was 7:43AM, in seven minutes Wanda would be reaching to turn her alarm off. You usually don’t wake up this early, used to sleeping in while Wanda left for practice, but today you couldn’t help it. You had been wondering how she’d greet you when she woke up. What a birthday would be like with someone who loved you.

She looked surprised to find you awake after she turned her alarm off, puffy eyes widening just a bit.

“Woah, what’s got you up so early?”

You smiled, “nothing.”

“Hmm,” she pressed a kiss to your forehead before throwing the sheets off of her, “I’m not complaining.”

You felt giddy almost, a childlike joy overtaking you. Would she take you to dinner? You’ve heard that’s what couples do at work. Or would she take you somewhere? Would she give you a gift?

“I have practice until later today, but I should be back tonight—like 1PM?”

“Okay,” you chirped from under the covers, excited to get another kiss from her before she wondered into the bathroom to put her hair back. It only takes her a minute, throwing her jersey on loosely and pulling her bag over her shoulder, her keys jangling as they hang out of her pocket.

“Be back later, love you.”

“Love you.”

It made your heart twinge just a bit at the fact that she got up and left without saying anything. Maybe mornings weren’t the normal time to say happy birthday yet?

You spent time doing work from home, finishing tasks your boss assigned you to do. It made time fly and before you realized it was almost 12PM. You were about to get ready for the day but stopped when you received a text from Wanda, telling you that she won’t be back until later.

That’s fine. She’s probably just picking up something. It felt selfish, all of these thoughts felt self-centered. This day shouldn’t be about you, you shouldn’t expect it, but here you are. So you put off getting ready, wanting to be freshly put together when Wanda came through the door.

1PM turned to 3PM and 3PM turned to 6PM.

You received a few texts from your phone, seeing family and a few work friends wish you a happy birthday. It mattered, but it didn’t satisfy the way your heart was breaking. She would remember, she’s not your mom—she’s above ignoring such a day.

You know she cares, so why in this moment are you beginning to question everything? Heart turning from glass to stone as you recall memories, ones usually sweet, and overthink her words and actions as hatred. Maybe this whole time shes been showing how much she dislikes you but you’ve been blind to it just like how you had been with your mother.

It was dinner time now, and you’ve seen videos on social media and heard on the grape vine that couples go out to a nice dinner on a special event, such as a birthday. This could be a surprise, maybe when she got back she’d be dressed and ready, driving you to your favorite place.

She hasn’t yet called to texted you, giving you the idea that she’s coming home soon like she said she would be. You took the time to get ready, enjoying every minute for once until you were dressed nicely. You found yourself on her couch, waiting while scrolling on your phone.

You checked back and the time read seven.

After watching TV, the time read eight.

Until nine, until ten, until your phone lit up the room with her contact information. You let it go to voicemail, not wanting to let her know about how you’re crying in front of the bathroom mirror.

It’s ugly, dry heaving cries filling the bathroom. Each one making your throat and head hurt just that much more. Your heart ached. You felt naive, stupid to believe someone would genuinely love you. Turns out on your birthday she would leave you alone.

You decide to sleep, guessing Wanda wouldn’t be back until way later at this point. You had hoped to avoid her but by stepping out of the bathroom you walked right into.

“Oh!—oh.”

You know she can see the glimmer on your cheeks, how your eyes are all puffy and bloodshot. You felt choked seeing her. She’s in a different outfit, hockey back still slung behind her like you’ve become familiar with.

“What’s wrong—?”

“Nothing,” you say, brushing past her to quickly grab the pajamas you wore this morning and shutting yourself in the bathroom again. She had apparently left to take a phone call from her dad, thankfully giving you space to calm down, collect yourself, and crawl into bed. Now lying in her bed feels weird; it doesn’t feel like home as much anymore. Fear grew in you at the thought, what if she’s going to kick you out soon? You’ve heard that happens when relationships fall apart, and the pain you felt thinking that sentence over took you.

You tried to stop the upcoming crying session, pressing your hands into your closed eyes or staring at the ceiling. You’ve had heartbreak, just not one with a relationship, it’s be a new kind of pain. Sharing intimacy with someone only for them to use you in the end.

The door creaking, signaled Wanda’s presence. She sighed seeing how you’ve turned away from her, sitting on her side to lean an arm and rest it on your thigh.

“Hey love, how are you?”

“I’m fine.”

You ignored her attempts to console you, and in a really really strange way you congratulated yourself—you weren’t able to do this with your mother and you saw how that ended up.

But oh how you wanted to turn around and hug her, hear her heart beat as you lie on her chest, feel her press a kiss to your cheek and tell you everything’s going to be okay. Once you hear her breathing even out you let out a few more tears, already missing Wanda even though she’s laying right behind you.

The next morning Wanda’s shocked for a different reason. You wake up at a normal time, but you’re complete off. She’s decided that maybe you need space, maybe something happened that you’re just keeping to yourself and will tell her later. She’s not just decided, she’s hoping because she can’t stand to see how you’ve been. You’re a shell of it. You don’t kiss her back, you’ve stopped engaging in conversation, and you barely look at her.

It’s now been two days since your birthday and Wanda’s grown increasingly worried. You’ve always climbed in bed, back facing hers for the third night in a row and it’s enough for Wanda to pull up your brother’s contact, raising her phone to her ear after hitting the call button.

“Hey, this sounds very intrusive, but has something personal happened within the family recently?”

“Uhh no—why?”

She explains how you’ve been, how sudden and drastic of a change your mood has been.

“Can you tell me what day you remember her starting to drop?”

“Two days ago.”

“I’m not going to assume you did because I fucking hope this didn’t happen. Two days ago was her birthday Wanda, is there—?”

His voice trails off as the room freezes. That’s why you were up early, full of smiles and joyful expressions. That’s why you’ve become distant, looking uncomfortable any time she expressed her love.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no, no—“ she mumbles, tears growing in her eyes, “shit—I forgot. I forgot. I don’t know how, but I did.”

“Shh, hey calm down,” your brother says over the voice, tone stern and light, “this doesn’t take away my frustration with you, but calm down—you’re not going to get anything done with a heart rate of 120. Apologize and make it up to her. You really don’t even have to do much—you can literally just get her a small gift and wished her a happy birthday and she’d be over the moon.”

“No—no, she deserves more than that.”

“She does. The intention of what I just said was to show how low the bar was set. She’s not had a ‘birthday,’ Wanda—so anything you could’ve done yesterday would’ve meant the world to her.”

“It would’ve and I’ve done nothing,” she says and he agrees.

“Yes. But I know your intentions, I know you’ve just forgotten—but she doesn’t. Just make it up for her, be intentional and loving and she’ll come back around.”

So that’s what Wanda set to do. It was late but she still left, driving in her car to the nearest cheapest store to grab decorations. It started with decorations before it moved to gifts before it moved to cake. She set out to create a basic birthday day for you.

It was a sight to wake up to, finding balloons on your ceiling and streamers hanging around her apartment. She was downstairs with your family, your brother smiling and recording you once you’ve begun to walk out from her bedroom.

“What—?”

“Happy birthday.”

You take in everything as best as you can with how your eyes have begun to grow wet, blurring your vision. It looks like the photos you searched on wiki as a kid of what a birthday decorated room looked like. Your brother continues to hold the camera poised on you, emotions overcoming him and his wife. The entire time Wanda’s been standing in the corner, growing nervous when your attention lands on her.

She’s holding her arms out wide when she saw you take a few steps towards her. You’re wrapped up so tight in her hold; your deep cries breaking her heart all the more.

She coos, “I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry.”

“You set all this up for me—when did you have time,” you ask, voice squeaking from how sore your throat has become.

“It is all for you, I stayed up late last night to set this up.”

And her efforts didn’t go to waste. You wonder just how much money she burnt through last night seeing what she had bought. Your brother had an itinerary, moving you around to each event.

You had to stop and cry multiple times—feeling grateful and also a little bit embarrassed about being so emotional over something so minor to most people. The whole time they kept validating your feelings, full of understanding and kind words to help you get along. There was your favorite food, dessert, presents, and your favorite people.

Once your brother’s family had to leave—saying something about having to get Tyler to hockey practice since he has a game coming up soon—Wanda pulled out another gift.

“I thought of you when I saw this,” she said, taking out the necklace to place it around your neck. It had the word, “loved,” on it, diamond encrusted and small.

“Why’d you think of me?”

“The man asked me to choose out a necklace with a saying that made me think of you. I wanted you to have something that reminded you of how loved you are.”

You begin to tear up yet again, laughing dryly as you try to wipe away the tears, “I need to stop crying, I’m going to get a headache.”

“I’ll just take care of you if you do.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you laugh more, but you thank her with a squeeze to her arm.

“I’m serious though. I’m really sorry for not treating you the way you deserved on your birthday. I love you, and I’ve never been this serious about anyone before.”

“I love you too,” you say, kissing her back when she leans to kiss you; feeling like your hearts begun to be placed back together when you feel her wipe away at your tears.

series m.list ✩ ══╡˚2.2k words˚╞══ ✩ wanda m.list

#competing series #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x you #Wanda x afab!reader #wanda maximoff fic #marvel wanda #wanda maximoff x you #Wanda maximoff x afab!reader #marvel wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #Wanda #wanda mcu #wanda marvel #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #Wanda fic #Wanda fanfiction #Wanda fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #marvel women x reader #marvel woman #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff fluff #hurt/comfort

[h4ndwr1tten]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

featuring: roommate!satoru x reader

cw: fluff really, strong language? kinda suggestive.

the sudden, thundering sound of what seemed to be a crash had you jolting awake. you immediately sat upright and reached over to your lamp, switching it on and scanning your room on high alert. glancing over at your digital alarm clock, you found that it was only 1:03 in the winter morning. what kind of asshole would partake in destructing something this late?

the first person to come into mind was satoru, your roommate. he tends to stay up as late as possible doing the most random and stupid shit he could thing of. once, you caught him trying to fit himself into the shared washing machine at 3 am. but you remembered that earlier, you were going to confront him about how he left his used boxers and socks on the bathroom floor after his shower. when you stormed into his room, however, he was surprisingly in deep sleep.

so if satoru was slumped, where did the noise come from?

you debated leaving your bed for your safety or staying there, also for your safety, but ultimately decided on quickly checking the apartment for something unusual. quietly groaning, you forced yourself out of bed and into the hallway.

you hadn't found anything out of the ordinary, making you firmly believe it was an inconsiderate neighbor. nothing felt off and you weren't experiencing any sense of doom, so you returned to your bed and knocked right out.

only, an hour later, you woke up freezing. your room felt like pure ice and your body felt like you had been dipped into an ice bath. when did it get so damn cold? you thought, pulling your blanket higher up your body. it was snowing outside, but the cold shouldn't have been able to be felt with the heater on.

you tried to go back to sleep, but you only found yourself shivering despite the blanket. you rubbed your legs together in an attempt to warm you up, but it didn't seem to work. you huffed, irritated and uncomfortable by the temperature change.

getting up for the second time, you threw your blanket over your shoulders and went into the hallway to check the thermostat. there, you found satoru, also checking the temperature.

"cold?" he asked, his voice raspy from probably having been woken up to the same thing.

you hummed in response, watching silently as he tried to figure out what was wrong. he tapped at a few times, pressed the buttons every second, until he noticed that the temperature of the heater wasn't changing.

"it's broken."

oh.

"what? the thermostat?" you question, a little densely, but to be fair, it was 2 in the morning.

"no, the heater," satoru replied, tapping at his lips in thought.

that made a lot more sense. the weather from antarctica couldn't have just magically moved in with you. but did this have to do with the loud bang from earlier?

"satoru," you begin, "i woke up an hour ago because there was a bang, but i checked and nothing seemed broken inside here."

satoru hummed, turning away from the wall and to you. he opened his mouth to speak and you anticipated it, but instead, you watched as his eyes trailed down your frame, eyes falling onto your body. he was silent for a few seconds, visibly gulping. his face felt warm. could you see his pink-tinted cheeks in the dim lighting?

clearing his throat, satoru turned away and pretended to observe the thermostat, mumbling, "yeah, that might have... that might've been it."

confused, you look down at your body to find what elicited his behavior. it took you a second, but you noticed your hardened nipples poking out through your shirt. you forgot that was a thing. your eyes widened and you quickly folded your arms and blanket over your chest, feeling a tad bit embarrassed.

"what do we do now?" you asked, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

"how many blankets do you have?"

fuck, they're all in the laundry.

"one."

satoru side-eyed you, slowly turning to face you, his face deadpan.

"they're in the laundry!" you raised your hands in defense, effectively dropping the blanket to the ground.

it seemed to have caught satoru's attention because of the way his eyes moved down to the ground. then slowly up your figure, as if drinking in every part of you. your arms were still hiding your chest and you didn't look all that great right now, considering you were only in pajama pants and a baggy tee. but the way he looked at you made you feel like it was more than just the attire.

you shifted your weight onto one foot, warmth creeping up your neck. you had always felt some sort of attraction towards your roommate, but considering how insanely attractive he was, you thought that he would never even think of seeing you the same way.

but gosh, the way he eyed you like the most valuable treasure there ever was. the way there seemed to be a sort of want, desire burning in his eyes. that was enough to make you question his feelings.

"satoru?" you call, growing antsy under his gaze.

"sleep in my room," he suggests casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"what...?"

he sighed, probably wondering if you were stupid, or deaf, or both. "the heating's down, and it's only going to get colder from here. i say that because we are both mature, grown adults, we sleep in the same bed because right now, shared body heat is likely the only thing that's going to keep us from freezing."

you were stunned, to say the least. that's the most and longest sensible thing to come out of satoru's mouth ever. had he thought of this before?

"i guess you're right," you mumbled, face flushed. "but wouldn't it be awkward?"

"it'll only be awkward if you make it awkward," satoru retorted, opening the door to his room and waiting for you to enter. "we're mature, right?"

you walked into his ridiculously messy room, sighing, "i am, but i don't know about you."

"hey!"

you flopped down onto satoru's bed, a lingering warmth around it from before he got up. your heart began to beat a little faster as he approached the bed, the fact that you were actually about to sleep with someone you've dreamed of sleeping with before.

"y/n?" satoru called out, breaking your stare at the floor.

"yeah?"

"that's my side of the bed."

you blush furiously, scrambling to the opposite side, muttering, "oh, sorry."

but once you were there, satoru goes, "that's also my side."

you snap your head at him, glaring. "what do you mean, this is also your side?"

"i sleep in the middle."

"are you serious?" you sigh, growing uncomfortable.

"yep," satoru said, popping the p and sprawling out across the bed like a starfish. his once (and extremely rare) seriousness was gone, and he was back to his irritating antics.

you sat at the very edge of the bed, nearly sliding off, uncomfortable in the silence. satoru's eyes were closed and his breathing seemed to have relaxed, and you wondered if he was asleep. you wondered if he really meant what he said by sharing the bed too.

"satoru?" you murmured, chewing the inside of your cheek.

"mph?"

standing up, you uttered, "i can just go back to my room, i don't wanna bother you. i'll get warm eventually."

you weren't lying. even though sleeping in his bed felt like a really good idea, both for your comfort and desire, you would hate to be a bother to him.

peeking an eye open, satoru reached for your hand and grasped it, pulling you back down.

"i'm joking, y/n," he sighed, slightly muffled by his pillows. "get in here."

he fixed his position, then opened his blanket to beckon you in. you frowned, snapping, "you basically just said there's no room for me after suggesting we share the bed."

despite that, you still found yourself crawling into the warmth of his sheets. you kept yourself at the edge, though, still afraid of taking up his personal space.

it's quiet for a moment again. you raise the blanket just up to the underside of your nose, nervously picking at the pillowcase. his scent engulfed you; a mix of his cologne and natural musk, with a faint hint of detergent. you realize this is real.

satoru sighs, and to your surprise, he throws his arm around your torso and pulls you into him, your back now pressed against his front. he doesn't take off his arm, but instead, gently runs his cold hand along your stomach as if comforting you.

"i was just messing with you," he mumbles, drowsiness in his voice. "but i'm sorry, you big baby."

realizing what he said, you elbowed him in the ribs, but not too hard to actually hurt him. satoru let out a fake whine, both of you laughing quietly after.

silence fills the two of you, the only noises being shared breathing and city noise from outside. it's quiet, but it's comfortable.

you roll over onto your other side to face satoru, finding him with his eyes already shut and brows barely pinched. even in the dark, you can still make out the outline of his perfect features, from his long lashes to his cold-nipped lips. you'd trace them if you could, but you refrained out of fear of waking him up and the fact that you were in no position to be touching him like that.

"i can feel you staring at me," satoru mumbles, fatigued huskiness in his voice.

you blush, grateful for the lack of light in the room, whispering an apology.

satoru opens his eyes, a faint smile sitting atop his lips. "i know i'm insanely handsome, but sleep," he teased.

"i was actually looking at that fat, glow in the dark pimple on your forehead, but okay," you snort, scooting in closer to satoru's warmth.

his hand darts to his forehead, yelping, "actually??"

you giggle, "no. sleep."

"you suck," he sighs, chuckling before bringing his hand back to around you.

you slowly slide your arm under his and wrap it around his torso, your nerves and hesitation fading when he doesn't make a move to remove you. satoru whispers a goodnight, lips ever so slightly brushing against your forehead. you whisper it back, and sleep comes over the both of you.

maybe the heater should stay broken...

note — gave up on my layout D:

m. list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff

[jordyn14]

Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all | Joe Burrow

Summary: After a terrible start to a day that had such high hopes, two people do something that should lead to an even worse day, but in ends up better than it started.

Pairing: Joe burrow x first person fem reader

Words: 5058

Notes: this fic is kind of all over the place, but I didn’t want to split it up into 2 fics. I hope you enjoy!! <3

Taglist: @wickedfun9

The Bengals season was officially over following the win against the browns on January 7th, though we all knew it was over after the loss against the Chiefs on December 31 which kicked them out of playoff contention. In honor of adding another season into the books, Sam was hosting a little party for any player or friend of a player who wanted to come today. To say the day was not going great so far was the understatement of the century. First, as soon as I woke up in the morning, I stepped in some fresh poop from Mike, the cat I got Joe for his birthday, who apparently forgot where the litter box was. Because she's new-yes, she, Joe named her after Mike the Tiger at LSU-and I absolutely adore her, I shook it off and took a very in dept shower, making sure to scrub my feet extra good in order to rid myself of it completely.

Next, during breakfast, I was transferring my eggs onto my plate after putting some on Joes and the handle broke off of the pan and dropped onto my feet. The eggs went everywhere on the ground and were quickly eaten by Tucker, the dog Joe got me for Christmas, who flew in immediately after hearing the commotion to see what happened. I thought I was in the clear since two bad things happened to me in a span of an hour and a half-so what else could go wrong-but that was soon proven wrong when I was carrying Joe and I's pre-workout smoothie so we could get in a light workout together in the basement, and I tripped down the stairs. Not only did I spill the smoothie all over myself and the stairs, which made for an annoying clean up, but I also face planted, which made for an awesome bruise right on my jaw.

After that, I showered for the second time, drank the new smoothie Joe whipped up for the both of us, and we got in our little workout for the day. Once done with the workout, I took Tucker for a walk and went to the grocery to store to stock up on all of the necessities. While in the grocery store, I completely forgot that I was supposed to start my period, so I got blood all over my new jogging pants Joe gifted me for Christmas and had to buy a new pair of pants at the store, along with a pack of tampons, which weren't the ones I usually buy because, ironically, they were all out.

Finally, everything seemed to be going right for me and the day turned out pretty good, until it came time to get ready for Sam's party. I did my hair and my makeup without a single problem, but then of course when I put on my new dress that I was excited for, I put it on only for me to realize the zipper broke when I washed it. Because I was on my period and very hormonal, I started to cry. My mascara got all over my face and when I tried to wipe it off, my other makeup came off with it so I had to redo it all. Plus, while crying, Joe tried to comfort me, and because I was hormonal, I got mad and told him to get away from me. What made me cry more was that Since my new dress broke, I had to wear an old one that wasn't anywhere near as pretty as the other one.

So, now, as Joe pulled into the parking lot, I took a deep breath and prayed that this night wouldn't be a disaster like the whole day was. The party was at a little convention center in the middle of Cincinnati that has held frequent get togethers and parties in the past. Since this party symbolized the end of the season and it could be the last time some of the guys see each other, it was very special to so many of the guys. To make it even more memorable, Sam got Jeff Rubies to cater and he had one of his favorite bars set up a little bar. Because friends were invited as well, I was excited to see some of Sam's friends that I probably have not seen since college.

Once Joe put the car in park, he looked over at me with a sigh. Seeing him look at me in the corner of my eye, I looked over at him and we made eye contact. "Well here goes nothing, I guess. Let's hope this goes well." I said with a little defeated laugh, the both of us knowing how the day has been going for me. "Let's be optimistic, what's the worst thing that could happen, right? There's no stairs...that I know of." Joe said, and started to rack his brain in an attempt to try and remember if there are stairs at this place. I tried to remember with him, because if there were stairs, I was certainly doomed. "There aren't any stairs where the party is at-well, that we'll have to walk up anyway- there's an elevator leading up the floor we're on." I said, remembering exactly where the stairs and elevator were at.

Joe laughed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Y'know, it's kind of pitiful that we even had to think about that." Joe laughed. I laughed and nodded. It was extremely pitiful. Who would need to think about if they would have to go up stairs? Definitely not many people. "It is, but with the day I've been having, It's better to be on the safe side." I said. We chuckled a little bit together before Joe turned the car off. "Sha'll we?" Joe asked. "We sha'll." I giggled and opened up the door quickly. I stepped out of the car and then met Joe in front of the car. Because of my situation at home-having to redo my makeup-we were about 30 minutes late. Luckily Sam said not to worry because he has the place until midnight, then we're kicked out.

Joe and I walked inside together and got into the elevator. On the way up, we made funny faces in the mirror on one side of the elevator and then took a funny picture that I had to promise wouldn't be posted, which I have to do with every picture I take of him. By now, he should know I won't post them. For one, I know how private he is, and I am too, and for two, I would never share these moments with anyone, other than close friends who probably have the same kinds of pictures of him in their phones.

The elevator opened up with a little ding and revealed a huge and bustling room. People were scattered around across the whole room and there were orange, black, white, and striped decorations throughout the whole room. Immediately after hearing the elevator open up, the majority of Joe's teammates looked over to see who arrived, and when they saw Joe, they all began to hoop and holler and call out his name, excited to see him. With a smile, I let go of his hand and went to go find some of the wags, mainly Gracie and Tianna since both Holly and Morgan were out of town with their husbands.

It didn't take long for me to spot Tianna who was messing with Cody who had a far from amused look on his face. When Tianna spotted me, she immediately stopped annoying Cody and ran over to me excitedly. "Finally! It's been boring without you!" She yelled and hugged me. "Girl it's only been 30 minutes." I laughed. "Uhm...exactly." She said and emphasized it with her hands. I shook my head and laughed at her, continuing to look around at the little buffet Jeff Rubies set up and then the little bar in the far right corner. "So, what did I miss? Anything fun or crazy happen?" I asked, needing to be caught up on any of the tea that I missed while I was gone.

Tianna gave me a look and signaled for me to come and sit down at their table, so I followed. "It's not really with the team, but apparently one of Sam's friends just got cheated on. He's here and a bunch of people were talking about it when they first got here." She said. My mouth dropped open in interest and I looked round to make sure I didn't see Sam anywhere. "Who? Maybe I know him from college." I said. Tianna raised an eyebrow and looked at me with a small smile. Why was she looking at me like that? I raised my eyebrow back at her in confusion, needing her to tell me so I wasn't confused. "Did you sleep with some of Sam's friends or something?" She whispered with a little wink. "Women-shut the fuck up, she ain't like some of your friends." Cody said.

The three of us started to laugh at what Cody said, but she continued to look at me, still thinking I might've slept with some of them. "What-no, I have been with Joe since 12th grade and we didn't cheat. Now, show me." I said. "Okay okay." Tianna said quickly and began to scan the crowd to try and find whoever it was she was looking for. I looked with her and tried to see if I recognized some of the people, but I wasn't having any luck. So far, none of the people looked familiar except for the players and their wives or girlfriends. "Ooh- there." Tianna said excitedly and pointed at someone somewhat discretely so they didn't see. I followed her hand and spotted one of Sam's friends. I knew exactly who that was, and I wasn't too happy that he was here.

"I know him, that's Aiden." I said and took my eyes off of him. "Why do you say that in a bad way?" She asked me. Why was there a hint of attitude in my voice? Well, because Aiden and I were kind of friends back in college. This particular friend group of Sam's consisted of me, Joe, Sam, Jessica, todd, and Aiden. We were all good friends and always either studied together, went to football games together, or went out to parties together. From the very beginning, Aiden knew Joe and I were together and in a very closed, strong, and long-lasting relationship. But he just couldn't help himself from crushing on me. The crush got so big that he eventually confessed his feelings for me while drunk and tried to get me to cheat on Joe with him. To say he was persistent was an understatement and it happened more than once.

Of course I told Joe who told Sam. After that, Aiden didn't really hang out with us too much. "Let's just say he had a crush on me and wanted me to cheat on Joe with him." I said. Tianna let out a small gasp as she processed what I said and then looked at Aiden with a little scowl. "Well in that case, the jackass deserved it." She said with a little 'hmph'. I grabbed onto the drink I snagged from someone passing them out and held it up. "Now that's something I will fucking cheers to." I said with a little laugh. "Hell yes." Tianna picked up her glass and to her surprise, Cody picked up his as well. Tianna looked over at Cody, surprised that he was into this conversation since it was a girls conversation. "Really babe?" She asked. "Uhm...hell yes." Cody said. We all laughed a little at his reaction and then clinked our glasses together. After we clinked our glasses together, we each took a sip of our drinks.

We've been here for about an hour just hanging out with people and catching up, even though every single person that I'm good friends with on the team I've been texting. After Tianna, I made my way around to some other people before finally sitting down at a table with Ja'marr, Tee, and Sam. Joe was sitting down with us too until he left to go get him and I drinks at the bar.

"So, Mrs. burrow….” Ja'marr said and leaned back in his chair. I raised my almost empty glass to my lips and said a small, "Mr. Chase?", before taking a sip, trying to figure out what he was going to ask me. "What are the chances that baby Burrow makes an appearance this year?" Ja'marr asked me. I set my drink down and shook my head at him with a little laugh. From around the small table, Tee and Sam just listened to our conversation, who obviously were both aware of what Ja'marr was going to ask me before he said it. "Slim to none." I gave him a short and sweet answer, although I knew he would pry and want more from me. "And why is that? I mean come on, everyone else is doing it." Ja'marr said. "Unless I accidentally miss a birth control, which I never do, or by some miracle I just so happen to get pregnant, it's not gonna happen this year. Plus, I’m not everyone else." I said.

This has been an ongoing conversation between Ja'marr, Joe, and me for a while now. Ja'marr is fully convinced that it's time for Joe to knock me up, even though we disagree completely. "Come on, why? You've been married long enough." Ja'marr added in. "Some people have plans jackass." Sam added in. I looked over at Sam and pointed at him. Ding Ding Ding. "Exactly, thank you. We have had a plan for a long time, and a baby, while it's included in that plan, isn't listen for a long time." I said. Ja'marr just glared at me jokingly for a few seconds. Don't get me wrong, I wanted a baby and I would want one right now if not for football. Joe and I are at the perfect age to have children, but Joe is currently in his prime years of his career. It would be completely unfair to ask him to juggle being a new father and being an amazing quarterback all at once.

It felt like Ja'marr and I were having a staring contest. Both of us tried not to laugh or blink, until Tee interrupted. "I mean this with no disrespect, but If you don't want to get knocked up by Joe, I think that bartender over there will gladly volunteer." Tee said and signaled over to the bar. I turned my head in the direction he was signaling to. It only took me a few seconds to spot Joe who was standing at the bar. The bartender was mere inches away from a very uncomfortable looking Joe who kept trying to back away, but in a way that wasn't too noticeable. That boy was way too respectful. They were in mid conversation, and every time Joe would say something, she would laugh-a little too much- at whatever he was saying. I know Joe Burrow, and never have I once laughed that much during a simple conversation with him.

Now, unless he was making endless jokes, which I knew he wasn't because of his body language, that girl was just doing way too much. I glared at the two of them as they talked, a little annoyance and maybe anger building inside of me. I wasn't mad at Joe who was obviously trying to get away from her as she kept bombarding him. I was secure enough in my relationship with Joe, even though it took a while to get to that point. I was, however, mad at the girl who kept touching his arm and giving him flirtatious looks and laughs a little too often. Those flirty eyes were the same exact ones that I give Joe. I was mad at the girl's occasional glances at his wedding ring on his left hand that told me everything I needed to know: She was well aware that the quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals was married, but she didn't care one bit. Plus, she obviously couldn't tell when someone was uncomfortable or not feeling a conversation. She was obviously not a girl's girl. What a bitch.

As I continued to stare at the two of them and read Joes extremely uncomfortable body language, Joe glanced over at me. We made eye contact and immediately after, Joe's eyes widened and he sucked in his lips a little. I smiled a little bit at his plea for help and how much he was practically begging for me to go over and help him. I looked over at the guys sitting at the table who were just watching me and then Joe, interested in what was going on. "You know, girls are bitches. Excuse me, while I go save my husband." I said and scooted my chair back. "You need our help with the clean up job?" Jamar asked. "You can keep her body in my car." Sam added in. I rolled my eyes jokingly and stood up with a laugh. I headed over to save Joe from this awful conversation he was having.

While I walked over to Joe, he glanced over at the table again, but when he saw me, his face immediately lit up and he smiled slightly. The girl, seeing Joe's facial expression from his side profile, looked over to see what he was looking at. As soon as she saw me walking over, I could tell she had absolutely no idea who I was or that I was even married to joe. In her eyes, I was just another person that had a crush on Joe, like her. That still didn't change the fact that she could still flirt and give my husband the 'fuck me eyes', all while knowing he was married. Now I'm not usually one to come out and say that a girl's being a bitch, because I get it, we all have our own problems that we're dealing with, but I mean come on, to flirt with an obvious married man? Now thats low.

I looked down at Joes hands and saw the two drinks in his hand. One of the drinks was a whiskey and the other was a vodka spritzer. Perfect. Once I got to Joe, He looked down at me with his best 'thank you' eyes and handed me the drink. I grabbed the vodka spritzer in one hand, and with the other, I wrapped it around Joes waist and kissed his shoulder. "Thanks babe." I said, the both of us knowing damn well that I never call him babe-But maybe I should, because Joe's cheeks flushed red when I said it- and I knew Joe wasn't a fan of PDA but figured it was needed given the situation he was in. He never has been and he probably never will be. The only time he's fine with it is with close friends or family, so certainly not here with prying eyes. "Of course." Joe said, going along with what I was doing. After I kissed Joes shoulder and smiled up at him, I looked over towards the girl who realized who I was. Did you seriously think his wife wasn't here and watching you? Unreal.

Going along with the part, I held out my hand a little bit out of politeness and acted sorry that I interrupted their conversation. "Oh my-I am so sorry that I interrupted,” I said and then introduced myself, “and you are?" I asked, Looking down at her name tag. I read the name, 'Caitlyn'. Caitlyn knew exactly what I was doing and I could tell by her facial expression that she wasn't enjoying it one bit. "I'm Caitlyn, it's nice to meet you. We were just finishing up our conversation, you weren't interrupting." She said. I flashed a small smile her way and nodded. "Well good, I would've felt terrible. It was nice meeting you, but we should really go find Ja'marr." I said and looked up at Joe, tapping his back a little bit. Joe straightened up and nodded, "yeah-right, it was nice talking to you." Joe said.

We both started to walk away, though I could tell she was staring at us as we left. The audacity of some people is wild. "You are a literal saint, I love you so much. That was horrendous." Joe said as we walked to our table. I began to laugh as we reached our table. "Y'know, fuck her. She knew you were married and still flirted with you, why didn't you leave you pussy?” I joked with him. "I tried, but she kept talking and flirting with me to the point where I felt like I would be rude leaving her and then a news article would come out titled, 'Joe Burrow turned down talking with a fan, what a loser.'" Joe said with a laugh. The both of us laughed as we reached our table. “She can stay jealous.” I laughed. The three of them just looked at Joe and I before Tee spoke up, "wow, she’s like your knight in shining armor brother.”

"Shut up, he was just trying to be polite, some girls just Don't know how to keep their hands off of handsome men that aren't theirs." I said with a 'hmph' and a laugh after sitting down in my chair. Joe followed after me and sat down right next to me in his chair. I leaned in closer to Joe as he put one arm around my chair and sipped his drink. "There Ain't nothin' handsome about Joey B." Ja'marr said, messing with Joe like he always does. Speak for yourself. I looked over to the most handsome man here as he laughed and said, "At least I ain't as ugly as your ass." The whole table laughed as we listened to Ja'marr and Joe joke around back and forth about who the better looking one was.

Other than the incident with the bartender, the night was going pretty well. We were all talking, drinking, and having an amazing time. At one point, all of the D-linemen and O-linemen had a little game of who was the strongest, which was extremely entertaining to watch. The whole time they were competing, Joe was cracking up laughing, and not just the belly laugh. He threw his head back, his eyes were sealed shut, and he could barely breathe. It was like a breath of fresh air to see Joe having an amazing time after such a stressful and uncertain season; the injury.

Currently, I just got done in the bathroom and was walking back to the table we were sitting at. I barely got in 2 steps before I heard a voice I haven't heard in years call out my name. Everything in me told me to just keep walking and pretend like I didn't hear him, but out of politeness, I stopped and looked over at him. "Wow...I haven't seen you in forever. I was hoping I'd see you here." Aiden said. I gave him a small smile and walked over to him so we didn't have to speak too loudly. Hopefully he just wanted to say hi and let me go, or maybe even apologize for trying to get me to cheat on Joe, multiple times. Without me expecting it, he took a step closer, closing the distance between us, and wrapped his arms around me before I could even get in a word.

"Uhh...yeah, it had been a while." I laughed awkwardly as we separated. Aiden kept smiling down at me like he was looking at someone he is really good friends with but hasn't seen in a while. Don't get me wrong, we used to be friends and haven't seen each other in a while, but to want to talk to me and act like nothing went down just felt wrong and uncomfortable. "It's so good to see you, Mrs. Burrow." He said with a big smile. "It's good to see you too." I lied to him with a fake smile, unable to muster up a real one. Right after I said this, he took a step forwards, if that was even possible, making me uncomfortable and making this whole situation awkward, at least for me. I watched him as he smirked a little bit. You better not try something.

I took a step back for comfort and was about to excuse myself when he said, "you look beautiful, even more so than back in college." I furrowed my eyebrows a little bit, disgusted and appalled that even after what went down at college that he could still be face to face with me and try the same things as he did back then. One of his hands found my side and his fingers danced over my hip bone. "Joe wouldn't have any issue if we hung out for a bit, right?" He asked. Don't react, just let Joe handle it. The last thing I wanted to do was create a scene here and draw attention to myself and Aiden. I scoffed a little bit, not able to hide my disgust and disappointment any longer. "It's funny how even after I rejected you in college, you still have the balls to do it again. If I wouldn't cheat on Joe back then, what makes you think I'll do it now?" I asked him, but he still didn't take his hand off of my waist. "Oh come on, don't be like that." He said. I looked down at his hand and then tried to look past him in an attempt to see if Joe was at the table, but he was blocking my view.

All of a sudden, I saw Joe walking over to us, looking as pissed as ever. His fists and jaw were both clenched in anger. I breathed a sigh of relief that he was here so neither of us could cause a scene and draw attention to ourselves. "Get your fucking hand off of my wife." Joe said, putting one of his hands on the small of my back. I looked at Joe and gave him a little nod of assurance before looking at aiden whose eyes grew 10 times bigger once he realized Joe watched the entire thing, and his hand slid off of my waist. I watched as Aiden’s shoulders fell in submission and embarrassement, obviously thinking he was going to get away with flirting with me and putting his hand on me even after what happened in college.

"I-I-" Aiden began to say. "What? You Didn't think I'd see you flirt with my wife? Come on man, you're not that stupid." Joe said and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing so tightly that aiden winced a little bit. "I was just trying to catch up with her, that's all." He said. I backed up a little bit and stood next to Joes side. I glanced around us a little bit to see if anyone knew what was going on, but nobody even looked at us. Everyone was just caught up in their own conversations. Thank god. "How dumb do you think I am, Aiden?" Joe asked. Aiden swallowed hard and shook his head. "Look man, I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I'll leave.." He said. "You're damn right it won't. Now, you can stay if you want, I won't tell Sam because I know he likes you-Why, I honestly have no clue-but I don’t want to ruin that. But, if you do stay, I don't want to see you near her again. Better yet, I don't even want you to look at her," joe said, and waited for a response, and when it didn't come, he added in, "you got it?" Aiden, who was obviously embarrassed, nodded quickly and said, "Yes sir."

With that, Joe nodded, took a step back from him, and began to turn slightly. Following his lead, I walked by his side and then we walked back with each other to our table that was now empty. This day just kept getting better and better. First it was the cat poop, which I wasn't even too mad about, but then one thing led to another and both Joe and I had someone flirt with us...and the both of them knew we were married. As we walked, I shook my head and sighed a little bit, just wanting this whole day to be over. Once we found our table, the both of us just sat down. "I'm sorry, baby. I cannot believe that fucker had the balls to do that for the second time. I couldn't stand to see his hand on your body, especially when you were so uncomfortable with him in the first place." Joe said.

"Hey, listen to me, Aiden is a jackass, I love you, and I'm all yours. Y'know, I hope he looks at us so he can be jealous of what he'll never have." I said with a smile and shrugged my shoulders. Joe just looked down at me and smiled. It was weird telling Joe that I was his, but I liked it. Normally there are people all over throwing themselves at Joe or accusing him of cheating to try and destroy our relationship, so telling him that I was all his felt... exhilarating, in a way. I was all his. He was all mine. And nothing or nobody could change that. Ever. I couldn't help but notice the little smirk that was growing on Joes face in place of his smile and I knew he liked when I said that I was all his. "Mmm, say that again." Joe said hummed quietly. I giggled a little bit at his reaction and said, "I'm all yours. And by the way, that whole thing with Aiden was really hot. Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.”

#joe burrow #joeburrow #cincinnati bengals #nfl #joe burrow bengals #joe shiesty #joey b #bengals #joey burrow #joe burr #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe x reader #joeyb #imagine #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #nfl fan fiction #nfl imagine #burrow #fanfic

[roxygen22]

Timothee sickfic but you chose whatever sickness

With Female reader plz

Since I just posted a Timothée/Laurie sickfic yesterday, I switched to a sick reader instead.

Stay With Me

C/W: fever, fainting, hospitals

I heard a muffled voice as I came to, like I was underwater. When did I fall asleep? I felt someone shaking my shoulders.

"[incoherent mumbling]...[y/n]...[Y/N]!" The voice became clearer. Timothée's voice. "There you are. Stay with me, baby. Stay with me," I heard him say in a panic. I felt him kiss my forehead. "Oh f*ck, you're burning up."

I blinked and looked around, confused. Why am I in my bedroom floor? When did Timothée get here? I saw the outline of Timothée's form, but I couldn't focus on it. I only knew it was him by the sound of his voice. It sounded like he was calling someone. I didn't want to sleep, but I couldn't stop my eyelids from closing again...so tired...

The next time I woke, I heard the distinct sound of a heart rate monitor. I could smell noxious aroma of disinfectant. Am I in the hospital? Why am I here? The beeping intensified as I became more cognizant - and fearful - of my surroundings. It took a lot of effort to finally get my eyes open. All I could see at first was the harsh fluorescent light above me.

Once I could focus, I looked over and spotted Timothée's head on the bed. His frame was slumped over from his seat next to me. His hand held mine as he slept using his forearm as a pillow. He jumped up from his seat when he felt me stir. I saw the look of sheer relief on his face when he locked eyes with me.

"Oh, [Y/N], baby, you're awake! Oh, thank God, you're awake." Timothée sandwiched my hand between his and kissed it repeatedly. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

"What-" I tried to ask what happened, but my throat was too dry to make more than a raspy sound.

"Shh, shhh, don't strain your voice. Here, let's get you some water." He used one hand to support my head and the other to hold the cup as I took tiny sips from the straw. It felt like I hadn't drank anything in days.

"What happened?" I finally managed to get the words out.

"You didn't answer the door when I came by to pick you up for dinner. I got worried because I hadn't heard from you since we exchanged texts that morning, so I used my key to get in. I found you passed out in your bedroom floor. I have no idea how long you were like that. You-" his voice cracked. "You weren't responsive when I tried to wake you up. When you came to, it wasn't for long. You were feverish, too. I got scared and called 911. They brought you to the hospital."

"Do they know what's wrong with me? How long have I been here?" I had so many questions, but that was all I could muster.

"You've been in and out of consciousness for two days. But even when you were awake, you weren't lucid. They ran tests - you contracted West Nile Virus."

"Two days?! Have YOU been here for two days?" You dropped your head to the pillow. "All of those mosquito bites from the photography walk."

Timothée nodded. "That's what tipped them off to check for WNV first. They asked me about your travel history and habits. They wanted me to stay in the waiting room until they confirmed you didn't have anything contagious, but they relented if I agreed to mask and glove up after I kept bugging the nurses for updates. I didn't want you to wake up alone."

"You hate hospitals," I whimpered.

He half-smiled. "Not as much as I hated the thought of you being alone and scared." He kissed my hand again.

Timothée stayed with me until I was discharged days later, only leaving long enough to go shower and grab some clothes for both of us. He drove me home and helped me to my apartment. He cleaned out my fridge of any expired foods and went shopping to restock it. He waited on me hand and foot and even tucked me into bed. When he acted like he was about to leave, I asked:

"Stay with me, Timmy. Please."

"Always," Timothée whispered as he settled under the covers next to me.

<><><><><>

Masterlist

Tag List:

@croatianprincess

@bluizh

@jindongdongie

@groovyqueer

#timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #Timothée chalamet x you #timothee x reader #timothée x reader #reader insert #sickfic #hurt/comfort #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothée chalamet fanfic #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee fanfic #timothée fanfic

[themirrorballfriend]

Bad Day | Rosekiller

965 words, Trigger Warning: Mentions of Abuse, Mild Swearing

Barty woke up in a cold sweat with shaking limbs. It was the same recurring nightmare he's been having weeks in a row.

He's in his father's study undoubtedly being lectured on how much of a disappointment he is, when he lifts his wand off the desk and utters the spell. "Crucio." He is immediately hit with excruciating pain leaving him a crumbling mess on the floor of his father's study.

A quick Tempus charm told him it was four o'clock in the morning. If his uneven breathing was anything to go by, he would not be getting anymore sleep that night.

By the time he actually managed to close his eyes for a bit, the first rays of sunlight had already started peaking through his blinds.

The next time he woke up to a shrill voice screaming "CROUCH!"

His father's voice? No, his father only ever addressed him as Bartemius.

"CROUCH!" The voice yelled again.

He finally identified the voice as his roommate's "WHAT!" he replied, getting sick of the incessant yelling.

"Get the fuck up, man. Breakfast ends in five minutes. And we have potions with Slughorn in fifteen." his roommate spoke, before promptly exiting the room.

He flung himself out of bed and haphazardly put on his uniform before rushing to the Great Hall with just enough time to snag a single croissant. Great. Just Great.

Because of his late start to the morning, he had missed out on his favourite routine of all time. You see most people often assume that because of Barty's careless nature, he didn't have any routines or rituals but he did. And his favourite one was always spending breakfast with Evan. If and how long he spent the morning with Evan would shape the mood for his entire day. And it was pretty clear that today was going to a shite fest.

Potions with Slughorn was a drag and to make it worse it was with the Hufflepuffs. All the old man did was read off the book the entire time, then assign five parchments on the uses of Stewed Mandrake in potions.

Next was Advanced Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. The lack of sleep had made it quite hard to concentrate as it was, but at some point James and Sirius had thought it would be a good idea to start hexing each other halfway through the lesson.

One of James hexes had been redirected by one of Sirius's spells and had ended up hitting him, turning half his hair red, and the other half yellow.

"Loving the new look, Crouch." Sirius sniggered. James barely managing to hold in his laugh next to him.

"You absolutely pieces of shite!" Barty shouted. "Bloody wankers, the two of you!"

"Detention, Mr.Crouch!" McGonagall spoke, her voice firm and lips downturned into a scowl.

His day didn't improve after that. During Arithmancy, his seatmate had dropped his inkwell causing Barty's hands and shirt to be covered in ink. That was, as they say, the straw that broke the thestral's back. He simply stood up and started walking out of the classroom, ignoring the Professor's words of protest.

As he was walking down the hall, muttering to himself, he slammed into someone.

"Oi! Bugger o—" he stopped when he realised who he had walked into.

Looking up, he was met with a pair of crystal blue eyes and blonde curls.

"Bee, what's wrong?" Evan asked in that deep, calming voice of his.

"Huh?" Barty said, still staring at him with a bewildered expression on his face, as if Evan had asked the most bizarre question he had ever heard.

"I asked if you were alright." Evan sighed.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" Barty asked, avoiding even the thought of his less than stellar day.

"Reg and I skipped Divination. He's with Potter at their dorm. What happened to you?" Evan prodded.

And that's when Evan finally took a good look at Barty. His hair was out of sorts and his hands were stained blue with ink. But his eyes were by far the worst. They were sunken in with dark purple bags underneath them.

"Come on." Evan told him, lacing their hands together and leading him to the dungeons.

Evan quickly muttered the password and guided them to the dorm. He then locked the door and sat Barty down on his bed.

"Tell me what happened." Evan said, careful to keep his voice both gentle and firm.

"Nothing happened. I'm fine. In fact, I really need to getting class. Sprout will have my head, if I'm late to Herbology." Barty replied, not meeting his eyes.

To anyone else, it might've looked like Barty was fine. But, him and Barty have been together for eight months, and in that time Evan had learned to read him like a book.

Evan always knew if Barty was lying to him, because he could never look him in the eye.

"Listen Bee, this doesn't work— we don't work, if there are secrets between us. If you're having a bad day, that's fine. But you can't lie to me and pretend that you're okay, if you're not feeling well, you can talk to me about it. I will always listen. It's my duty as your friend, and your boyfriend. I know it's hard to talk about things that are bothering you, but all I ask is that you try, for me." Evan said, his voice laced with love and sincerity.

Tears pricked Barty's eyes, making him think of all the times Evan had tried for him, in spite of all the hardships.

That's how Barty found himself with his head in Evan's lap, telling him all about his terrible day. All while Evan stroked his hair and comforted him, until he eventually fell asleep.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-------------------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

If you have any requests, put them in my asks box🩵

#marauders #marauders era #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #slytherin skittles #ravenclaw barty #barty crouch jr #regulus black #dorcas meadowes #pandora lovegood #pandora rosier #dead gay wizards #evan rosier #rosekiller #jegulus #wolfstar #slytherin evan rosier #microfic #rosekiler microfic

[klarex]

My main idea was to write Alastor x reader, but it kind of turned out to be Niffty, too. I love an idea where reader is a friend of Niffty or just taking care of her🥺

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none!

Summary: Just a sweet morning in a Hazbin Hotel. Reader mostly wears braids, but one day, she left her hair loose.

Paring: Alastor/Niffty (platonic) x Long-haired! reader

Long braids

Pov. (Y/n)

I woke up pretty early and decided that I could wash my hair today. My long hair was always a struggle, but I loved it either way. Mostly, I weared it braided, but after a few days it always got a bit greasy.

So I walked into my bathroom and turned on the water. I undressed myself and jumped into the shower. Because of the length of my hair, I had to use a lot of shampoo to clean it.

When I was finished, I knew that drying my hair would only work to lightly dry them, but I did it anyway. I used a hairdryer, and after about 15 minutes, surprisingly, my hair wasn't really wet. I brushed my hair and put some comfortable clothes on. I left the bathroom afterwards.

I went downstairs to grab some coffee and breakfast. I saw that Alastor, Niffty, and Charlie were already there. I smiled and waved to them.

- Hello!

I said, and they looked at me. Charlie's jaw hung open when she saw me.

- O.M.G. Your hair looks so pretty!!

She squeaked and quickly ran to me. She immediately looked at my hair and gently touched it. I sighed with a light smile and nodded my head in a 'thank you' motion.

While Charlie was playing with my hair, Niffty ran up to us when she finally looked at me. She looked at me from the ground with a wide eye with sparks in it. Her smile was so big. Alastor's usual smile seemed to widen as he slowly made his way to us.

After a bit of Charlie asking me questions about my hair routine and playing with my hair, she finally pulled away, saying 'sorry' a few times. She then walked into the dining area, getting out of my sight.

- I see that you finally let your hair loose. I thought I will never be pleased to see it like that!

Alastor said with his static sound and a smile wider than before. I chuckled, tugging my hair behind my ear.

- Well.. there must be the first time for everything!

I said and winked at him. He laughed and leaned on his cane.

- I must say, you look really beautiful like that, my dear.

He said, and his words made me blush. He was now nearly face to face with me.

- I- Thank you, Al..

I breathed out and nodded my head. Then I felt Niffty crowling onto my shoulder. She sat on it, and I laughed.

- (Y/n), can you sit on a couch?

She asked, and I walked to a sofa, sitting on it. She jumped off of me and sat at the headrest of the couch. She started brushing my hair with her small fingers and making a small braid on the back of my head. Alastor stood and looked at us interested. He loved seeing us interact, and I could tell that.

He teleported through his shadows to sit on the couch next to us. He put his arm on the armrest and leaned on it, watching us closely with that smile of his. Just this time, it was soft and lovely.

I rolled my eyes and let Niffty play with my hair. Then I remembered what I mainly came downstairs for.

- Al? Can you do something for me?

I asked, gently turning my head to the side to look at him, and also not to disturb Niffty. He hummed and tilted his head a bit.

- Could you make me some coffee? A black one, please.

I asked with a sweet smile, and he laughed.

- Ha Ha. Of course, cher. Anything else?

He asked when he got up. I shook my head, and he nodded, disappearing into the shadows of the halls.

After a few minutes of silence, I tried looking up to see Niffty, but I was unsuccessful.

- What're you making, Niff?

- You will see...

She said mischievously and started laughing.

- Just- please.. make it like I can comb it out later..

I said and sighed. When her laughter calmed down, she hummed.

She was quick, and my hairstyle was finished before Alastor came back with my coffee.

I took a quick glance at myself in the mirror. I had a 1950s hairstyle on my head. I giggled when I saw a proud look on Niffty's face.

- Beautiful hairstyle, Niff! I must say.. I'm impressed!

I said, and she looked at my face with a look full of joy. She then giggled and covered her face with her hands, closing her eye.

We heard soft humming of a song and footsteps behind us, and the sounds kept getting louder. I looked around and saw Alastor with his eyes closed and a cup of coffee in his hands. Then he opened his eyes and looked at us. His mouth got slightly agape, and his usual static broke for a second, but he was still holding his smile.

- How'd you like it, Al?

I said and twirled around, laughing. I walked up to him to take my coffee from his hands.

- Oh my.. You look stunning, my dear!

He said, and his smile grew bigger. I chuckled and took a cup from his hands. I took a quick sip and hummed.

- Thank you, but it is all Niffty's work. I did nothing here. Also, thanks for the coffee. You're such a gentleman..

I said with a sweet smile, walking away from him to sit on the couch. Alastor nodded his head and observed me.

- Any time, darling~

He said and bowed gently. Niffty followed me and sitted on the couch next to me.

- Can I have a sip?!

She said as she stretched out her hands, but I pulled my cup out of her reach.

- No, Niff! You are already full of energy today.

I said, and her arms fell down. Alastor shook his head and walked up to us with a chuckle.

I could already tell that this day would be a calm and pleasant one.

♡~masterlist~♡

#alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hartfelt #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #oneshot

[bluishfrog]

HAPPY 1-YEAR OF DRAWING ANNIVERSARY TO ME!

(Warning: slightly longer post incoming cause sometimes I gotta be a sentimental bitch ok? So let's go on a little trip down memory lane.)

This day, a year ago, I made my very first fanart. It was dnf (if that surprises you, then welcome to being on my blog for the very first time). I drew a little frog face too so I could use it as a watermark (fun fact: I still use that very same first one).

I immediately put my drawing up on twt because I told myself that I wasn't gonna be afraid of having people see that I was at the very beginning of this journey and had no clue what I was doing. That instead of being bad at art, I was gonna be awesome at being a beginner who doesn't know shit.

I started with little doodles and silly comics and then I laughed way too long when the first drawing of mine that gained some attention was a dnf butt joke. At the time I was trying to balance shipping and non-shipping art so I didn't even draw dnf that much but in hindsight it's probably the only possible way this could have gone.

At the very end of August I woke up to @honelle56 caps-locking at me in my messages - I was very confused and tired (I am no morning person and I will never be, fuck off with your mornings) because Dranart liked my drawing of singing Dream. Dranart was my 17th follower on twt which is a useless yet extremely funny fact about my time on that hellsite.

I also drew human!patches because a) patches was and will always be my favorite dteam member and b) it was a really cute trend and while I do love drawing dream, george and sapnap, I was also quite happy to try drawing anything but a white man for once. And I really liked how the drawing turned out.

Much, much later, I tried to draw my first slightly more realistic looking drawing. I was extremely confused on how to draw anything like this. Especially their hair gave me tons of trouble but given my experience, I think it's not a bad attempt.

When hijacked smp started I obviously wanted to participate, and I drew c!blu who doesn't associate with any side in particular but instead serves soup to everyone who visits her tavern 'The Soup House'. She also wants to be paid in stories from all around the map.

One of the events I was most excited about was dnf week. I even collaborated with two talented writers and I drew the corresponding art for two fics.

(Fun or not so fun fact: when twt had like three hundred collaborative aneurysms about the situation at that moment, that was when I created this tumblr account. I didn't use it super actively (I guess I needed another situation to fully make the switch) but I at least started the account that now developed quite a bit since then.)

I didn't really draw at all through January and February and I actually kinda thought I would move on from that hobby and fandom (not because of negative feelings, just because I didn't really have the urge to create anything within this fandom) and then situations happened and now I am here; and for some reason that is beyond any logic and my understanding I am now even more insane about dteam.

Wild to me but we are rolling with it now, I guess.

Since I got here, I drew more than ever (I actually think I might have made more drawings in the month since I got here than I made the whole rest of the year). There's just such an active and funny community here that cares about fan works for the sake of creating and not just because a CC might see it.

Unfortunately, Tumblr won't let me add more than 10 images in one post (maybe fortunately for everyone who has this monstrosity of a post on their dash). So if you want to see all the progress I made since I got here, you can look at everything in my art tag. For now, I will close this post with one of the art works from the past month that I like the most:

Can't wait to see what the next year might bring :)

Love, blu

#blu rambles #like a LOT #but if you made it to the end of this post you get a hug <3 #bluishfrog art

[the-whispers-of-death]

Can you do soap x male reader who is going through a shitty breakup and just needs some comfort? Headcanons if you’re okay with it :)

Headcanon style it is! Warning, Reader was cheated on. And also, I don't think there's much comfort here, whoops.

You were the closest with Johnny out of the rest of the 141, so he was the first person you told when you broke up with your now ex-boyfriend after finding out he cheated on you.

Johnny was so distraught after seeing how much the guy had hurt you and while he had always known the guy was bad news (he simply was jealous because he secretly likes you), he didn't want you to be hurt. So he asked Price for time off for you and him and took you out to a remote cabin.

In that remote cabin, you and him curled up on the couch and were eating ice cream together from the tub. You poured out every feeling of frustration and hurt, crying your eyes out in the safety of your best friend.

Eating ice cream turned into drinking wine together, Johnny's slurred words being of how you were more deserving of a better man than your ex. He cooed at how handsome you were, how any amazing man would be lucky to be your boyfriend.

Due to the alcohol, he managed to convince you that you should show that ex of yours that his cheating didn't define you. Johnny shamelessly suggested that you two should kiss and take a photo, send it to your boyfriend so that he knew you were being treated by someone better.

You couldn't deny that your best friend would treat you better than your ex, so you agreed. It's not like you hadn't thought about how much of a great boyfriend Johnny would be.

You ended up in Johnny's lap, ice cream tubs and wine glasses on the coffee table as you two sloppily made out. Johnny couldn't help but deepen the kiss, barely remembering to take the picture.

He did manage to take the picture and he sent it to your ex, both of you grinning like fools. The alcohol was still in your veins, so you kissed Johnny again, with so much passion.

You woke up the next morning in bed with Johnny, hickeys placed all over your neck and a very expensive engagement ring on your left ring finger. A look at your phone told you that Johnny had sent a picture of you and his hands interlocked, each with a matching engagement ring on your left ring fingers. The caption said "You snooze, you lose. Guess he's my fiancé now, I'll treat him better than you could."

It turned out that Johnny also sent the picture to the rest of the 141 with a very different, more upbeat caption. They were very confused due to them not even knowing you two were dating (because you two weren't), but the three sent very heart-warming congratulations to the both of you via the group chat.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

#tyler's asks #tyler's inbox #tyler answers asks #answering asks #asks #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap cod #john soap mactavish x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x male reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x male reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x male reader #soap x reader #call of duty #cod #cod modern warefare 2 #cod mwii #cod mw2 #best friend!soap #:)

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 13: The past cannot be forgotten /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N finally opens up to Azriel about Ruvyn. They finallly go to Koschei's home.

Word Count: 1,6K

Warnings: Just the usual angst.

Notes: My dumb ass accidentally posted this before i even posted the first chapters ughhhh

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

Azriel sat in bed, watching her squirming and groaning, her eyebrows furrowed and sweat coating her forehead. He reached to wake her up when she jumped out of her slumber, sitting in bed with a panicked expression, hands grasping for his arm, eyes frantically scanning him for any injuries. 

“They took you, I saw Ruvyn kill you.” She sobbed, tears streaming down her pretty face. He pulled her to his lap, allowing her to cry on the crook of his neck. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He rubbed her hair, noticing how this worked to calm her down faster. As she stopped her sobs and looked at him again with her red puffy eyes, he pulled her in for a kiss, gently cupping her cheeks and brushing her lips with his own. “Whenever you need to talk to me, I'm here for you.” He said after they parted the kiss.

“His name was Ruvyn.” She spoke, her voice hoarse from both crying and sleep. He watched her intensely. “Before our people became one, Ironteeths hunted Crochans down, to kill them for what their ancestors did to us. I met him in one of my huntings, he was different from the humans I met, he was charming, and something in me came back to life when I saw him for the first time.”

Her face dropped to an even sadder expression, like remembering those things were too painful, and they were, but she needed to let them go, she couldn’t keep allowing that Ruvyn’s ghost haunted her and sucked the life and joy out of her anymore.

“I fell in love with him and I kept coming back to him. He showed me things that I never thought I would have the chance of experiencing. He taught me how to dance, how to live, and how to love.” She rubbed her eyes. “The night I finally got the courage to be intimate with him was like a dream come true. I told him I loved him that night and he looked me in the eyes, like I truly meant something to him and told me he loved me too. When I woke up he had turned me in, ready to burn me at a stake. He told me so many awful things that I still carry with me to this day, he said I was going to die alone and no one would ever love a monster like me.”

The pain in her eyes was too much for Azriel to handle. He understood perfectly how hard it was hearing such harsh words directed at him, but it was totally different coming from someone she trusted with her heart. 

“I was able to free myself, the people who snickered at me started to scream and run away, i was never a monster Az.” She promised. “But that day I turned myself into what Ruvyn believed I was, I became the monster he made me. I killed the man I loved with my bare hands, I ripped his heart out for what he did to mine. I’m not proud of this but I can't erase what I did.”

“And you had every reason to do what you did, I can't imagine a betrayal like this.” She looked at him with worried eyes.

“You don’t think I'm a monster?” Her lower lip started to quiver like she was going to cry again.

“I could never think that of you.” He reassured her, pulling her in for another kiss. “I love you.” 

And despite not being able to tell him that she loved him too, she opened her heart to that feeling, something told her that this time would be different and she was willing to believe. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

After that morning, they got ready to talk to the rest of the house about their conclusions, finding the two males by the dining room having breakfast, Vassa was nowhere to be seen. Azriel and Y/N greeted them, sitting down to eat. 

“Did you two sleep well?” Lucien asked, always the kind host.

“We did, thank you Lu.” Y/N said. “But I guess the news we have for you isn't that good.” She sipped on her coffee. “Koschei is a Valg king.”

Her and Azriel shared all the information they gathered last night, including the one about Nesta, who according to the letter Azriel got late in the night, was being kept hidden at the cabin much to her dismay. Y/N couldn’t imagine what they had to do to keep Nesta locked against her will, and she wanted to end this soon so her friend would be free again. 

“So we’re basically fucked?” Jurian asked, biting a piece of toast with a smirk adorning his face.

“Precisely.” She motioned to Lucien. “Although our fire boy over there has a chance of killing him.”

“Me?” Lucien choked.

“Fire can kill a Valg, that’s how Aelin Galathynius killed Maeve, a Valg Queen.” She said it like it was obvious. 

“And you want me to Aelin my way into killing Koschei?” Y/N laughed.

“Yeah, she burned Maeve from inside out.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” He protested.

“Then i suggest you find out very quickly cuz we need to kill him as soon as possible.” She shrugged. “But no pressure.”

“Yeah, no pressure.” Lucien mumbled underneath his breath, taking another sip of his hot coffee. 

“So who’s ready to have a tour of Koschei’s lair?” Jurian asked, excitedly getting up and clapping his hands, the groans he received as an answer just made him smile wider.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The cabin was made from dark wood, ageing poorly with time, the roof was covered in pine needles and the yard really needed a trim to look decent, what connected the land with the island that held the big cabin was a very old bridge, and a dark lake surrounded the area, like the Mother had forgotten about that place too. 

“This smells so awful.” Azriel said, scrunching his nose in clear disgust, the smell was putrid, like death. Exactly like the Valg smelled. 

“Did it always have this smell?” She asked the males behind her. 

“Gets worse every day.” Lucien replied.

“Especially when he releases those things.” Jurian added, making her whip her head back to look at him.

“What things?” Jurian started to describe the monsters he saw coming out, a wide variety of horrors with long claws, sharp teeth and bloodthirst.

“We kill some, but others disappear. Maybe they get killed in the courts, we don't know what they want.” Lucien explained and she nodded. 

“Fuck.” She cursed. “If he's indeed after Nesta’s power, this is his way to guarantee an army before he can open that damned gate.”

“How are you so sure he has a key?” Jurian inquired, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

“He got here somehow, he has the original key he had before he was bound to that lake. He has to.” It only made sense that he still had the key, if he was trying so hard to free himself. 

“She has a point.” Lucien waved his hands and Jurian rolled his eyes, mouthing the words back to him in a mockery tone, prompting the male to crack a smile.

“Shhhh, someone is coming.” Azriel shut the conversation down and everyone turned to see.

It was like time had come to a stop, cold spread across her body, freezing her in place as she took the male in. Short golden-blonde hair, ivory skin, broad shoulders and a sculpted body showing through the thin tunic he wore. Beautiful, lethally beautiful like Erawan was. He took a look around, and shining against the sun, his gold eyes, just like Manon’s and just like his younger brother. The eyes of a king.

He stretched his muscles and turned his head towards the sun, letting it warm his skin. A lazy smile appeared on his face and he turned his head towards them, with his eyes closed and a very deep voice, he spoke. 

“I don't like being watched.” He opened one of his eyes, looking directly into hers. 

She motioned for the males to keep quiet and stay in their place, kicking Azriel’s hands away when he tried to grab her ankle. She got up, climbing the hill they were hiding and started to walk in silence, stopping over the edge of the bridge. The male turned to her with a curious gaze. 

“You're not from here, you smell different.” He smiled sweetly at her. 

“I changed my soap yesterday, thanks for noticing.” She snickered and he openly laughed. 

“What a delight having someone so fun around.” He extended a hand to her, inviting her in, but she stayed rooted in place. “Aren't you here to see me?” 

“Yes.”

“Then come here, darling.” Azriel cursed as his shadows informed him that she started to cross the bridge, towards Koschei’ open hand. “What can I do for you?” His voice resonated through the trees.

“I've heard you can take all the pain away.” She replied, lies spilling from her plump lips. 

“You came to the right place, my sweet creature.” His hands wrapped around hers, and she almost flinched with how cold it was against her warm, sweaty and shaking hand. 

He pulled her hand towards his lips, kissing it with his eyes still locked with hers. He smiled again, pulling her closer to him, towards the open door of the cabin, exactly like she wanted.

“Allow me to properly introduce myself.” He bowed his head a little. “Despite the people of this land calling me Koschei, my name is Mantyx.”

She almost froze with the name, swallowing past the lump in her throat and forcing her legs to walk inside the cabin. Azriel watched in horror as she disappeared inside, the door closing itself after them, locking her inside with him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @fieldofdaisiies @blackgirlmagicforever @a-frog-with-a-laptop @going-through-shit @asweetblueberry2 @roses-r-red54330 @mis-lil-red @sheblogs @hibye02 @impossibelle @glitterypirateduck @zeroangelo13 @sekiro1310 @nelapeach14 @annamariereads16 @just-here-reading @celestialend @donttellthecats @scatteredstardustt @snoopyspace @asterinblacksword @tsumudoll @georginat12 @skyjasper @anuttellaa @willowpains @quinzzelx @amysangel @fightmedraco @puttyly @lees-chaotic-brain @thisblogisaboutabook @esposadomd @stained-glass-eyes0708 @brujitafantomatico @a-cup-of-nightshade @faridathefairy @bubybubsters

#azriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #moonlightazriel #sarahjmaas #azriel shadowsinger #night court #velaris #azriel x y/n #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #worlds apart fic

[ghostgorlsworld]

Johnny Boy (Part 7)

Werewolf! Johnny x reader

part one is here

Once upon a time, you would've done anything for John Mctavish. He had been your older brother's cool best friend, and you were always desperate for him to see you as more--until one fateful night that ends up with you pregnant and him...gone. Fast forward six years and you've made a good life for yourself with your daughter Emma, with Johnny none the wiser. Until he decides to knock on your door.

Notes--Johnny is showing his true colors so the story is definitely getting a little darker.

You woke up hungover and embarrassed. 

You were old enough to know better and a mother for Christ’s sake–by all means too old to be making idiotic decisions that could shake the life you had spent over half a decade building. You could hardly remember what had led up to Johnny doing…the thing that he did, but you were sure you didn’t exactly put up a fight.

Tommy walked Emma back to your house shortly after seven, dressed for work. He pulled the makings of breakfast from the fridge, grumbling some nonsense about two full-grown wolf-soldiers eating him out of house and home. You were trying very hard not to do your walk of shame, refusing to look at the chair or the leftover pizza in the fridge. Emma, of course, was none the wiser, curling up in your lap to nuzzle at your face. 

“Did you have fun?” You asked, inspecting her for signs staying up too late. 

Emma nodded, beginning a long play-by-play of the previous night’s events, including a humorous addition of her forcing Simon to teach her card games. “We had ice cream after dinner,” she said, whispering it so Tommy wouldn’t hear. “Uncle Tom told me not to tell you.” 

Emma couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. You laughed and tickled her sensitive feet.

You couldn’t believe you had been so weak to let Johnny back in again. You couldn’t trust him, no matter what he said about his reasons for disappearing, and adding sex to the equation could only make things even worse.

“Johnny was out late last night,” Tommy said casually, cracking an egg into a pan. “He left after Emma went to bed.”

You couldn’t help but glance at the chair, trying very hard not to remember Johnny’s voice, wrecked and commanding, or his hands, or his tongue-

“I had an early night,” you said. “Charlie called for a raincheck.”

“Mm,” Tom said. “Scrambled?” You nodded, not missing Emma’s curious look. She really was too smart for her own good. 

The weekend passed uneventfully–you avoided Johnny by packing up Emma and spending a day in the city, finishing up your Christmas shopping in the shiny shops and taking Emma ice skating in the square. He called you once, but you quickly put Emma on the phone, your stomach aching just at the thought of talking to him.

Emma picked out a pair of red and white striped socks and a box of legos as a gift for her father. She was pleased with her choices, and you tried your very best to smile when she displayed them to you.

Johnny wasn’t even going to be around for Christmas, and that was something you needed to discuss with him. Your little girl couldn’t survive off of no letters or calls–after all, it nearly killed you. 

Monday comes with the first real snowfall of the year. You dressed in warm layers, sweaters and soft scarves, Emma’s face pink under the winter jacket you had strapped her in. 

Charlie was sitting by your desk at work, two cups of coffee in hand and your favorite pastry in front of your chair. He smiled as you unwound the scarf from your neck, looking appropriately guilty and embarrassed. “I wanted to apologize,” he said, passing you the coffee. “I…it was a dick move. I had a few already and confused the days–I er, I tried to call you in the morning when I had come to my senses but you didn’t answer.”

Honestly, you had forgotten about it completely. You raised a brow at the man. “I took Emma to the city for Christmas shopping. We were busy.” Charlie nodded. “Yeah, of course, it’s the holidays. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, I feel like I’ve fucked things up.”

You searched around for anger, or even mild irritation, but it was gone, used up entirely by Johnny. “It’s alright, Charlie, thanks for the coffee.” Charlie smiled again, relieved. You took a seat at your desk and listened to him chatter about drama with Chris and Jan at the copying machine. 

You watched his hands. They were good hands–man hands, if you will, pale hair on his knuckles and a silver ring on his thumb. Johnny’s hands were wide and thick with dark hair, his nail beds always worn raw from the shift from stubby human nails to sharp claws. 

Why were you comparing? What was wrong with you?

Why couldn’t you just let sleeping dogs lie?

Charlie claimed your attention once more, following you to the carts of books that needed shelves. “I was wondering…I know I’ve acted like a right bastard, but I was thinking I could make it up to you. How does dinner tomorrow sound? I’ll make the food and supply the wine, you just bring yourself.”

You wanted to say no. That meant that you would have to see if Julienne would keep Emma for a few more hours, not to mention your attraction to Charlie had taken a nose-dive when he ditched you the first time. If only your body held all men accountable–your issue with Johnny would be solved overnight.

That was the thing that made you consider it. Johnny. He was your kryptonite, your achilles heel, and you needed to burn his touch off your skin.

“Alright,” you said. “If I can get a sitter for the bear.” “Deal,” Charlie said, grinning. He kissed your cheek gently, mouth warm and chapped.

Johnny texted the next morning, asking if he could take you and Emma out to lunch on your break. He offered to drop her off at Juliene’s house as well, saving you the walk.

You needed to rip the bandaid off. He wasn’t going to stay away forever, and it didn’t matter he had eaten you out while you were very sad and very drunk, you couldn’t keep him away from Emma. 

“Em, do you want to see Johnny today?” You asked, hoping against hope she would shake her head.

Instead, your darling girl perked up, ears twitching as she nodded eagerly. The full moon was coming quickly, so her behavior was…off, her eyes growing brighter by the day. Johnny used to refuse to be around you on the week of the full moon. He disappeared from your house and would show back up a few days later, looking exhausted and on edge, twitching if you tried to touch him.

You sighed. 

Where should we meet you? 

Johnny’s reply was lightning quick. You still like Angelo’s?

Angelo’s was a sandwich shop you used to frequent with Johnny, you hadn’t been in ages. That’s fine.

Johnny texted back something enthusiastic and barely legible.

Julienne had agreed to watch Emma for a couple more hours without irritation, saying she could use the money for a fancy new garden gadget she had been eyeing. You planned on grabbing it for her for Christmas, a token of your appreciation for her help with Emma.

You were going to give Charlie one last chance, if this dinner didn’t pan out you would find some other patsy to take you out every other weekend. 

Johnny was going to be gone soon, after all, and Emma is unpredictable with these things. She could take it as easily as she took the death of her grandfather, or it could be…catastrophic. 

You eyed your phone, forcing yourself to do the hard thing that neither of you wanted to face. 

I was hoping you would talk to Emma about you leaving soon.

There. You said it. You tossed your phone on the bed and finished getting dressed, herding Emma to school before you forced yourself to look at his response.

Of course, hen, we’ll talk about it. 

Work went by quickly in your haze of anxiety. What would he say to Emma?

What would he say to you?

You didn’t expect him to be waiting at Emma’s school. He was leaning against his truck, all twinkly blue eyes and a sharp smile that reminded you that he left for you. Because he couldn’t control himself. 

Johnny was trying to be good. You see it now, you remembered the way he used to follow you home after school, walking close behind you like he thought someone was going to steal you away. He wouldn’t share food with anyone, not even Tom, but if you asked he would always tear whatever it was in half and put it on your plate. 

Johnny and Tom had been playing video games in the living room when you left for your first date. You were sixteen and he had just hit twenty one, and he had looked at poor Dan Hilton like he wanted to rip out his guts and serve them up with eggs.

You had chalked it up to brotherly feelings, or the simple fact that Johnny has never liked to share. 

To see it for what it was felt…odd. You had heard about wolves claiming human spouses, putting a bite on their throat like a wedding band and never, ever letting go.

“Hey,” you said tiredly. 

Johnny straightened–he wanted a hug, you could see it in the way his hands twitched. “I figured I would give the two of ye a ride, yeah? It’s fuckin’ freezin’ today.” “Alright,” you said, glancing at your phone. The bell should be ringing any minute, and Johnny’s attention would be on Emma and not you. His attention was dangerous, it made you stupid and reckless.

“I heard you’ve got a hot date tonight,” Johnny said, going straight for the jugular.  

You stiffened. “That’s none of your business.” “Ach, lass, you wound me.”

“Johnny, the other night…it was a mistake. I was drunk and lonely and you were there.” You didn’t think it was possible to hurt Johnny, but you did. It flashed across his eyes, his jaw tightening into a straight line. 

You felt your stomach twist–god you were handling this all wrong-

He took a step, tilting your chin up with the pad of his rough finger. He wanted you to look at him, to watch his pupils swallow up the bright blue of his eyes. “I’m not a good man, kitty. Hell, I’m not even a man, not really. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ll repent every fuckin’ day for it, but if you let him touch you, I’ll gut him like a goddamn fish.” “How dare you-” you began, but Johnny gripped your chin then, pressing the tips of his claws into your skin lightly. “You want me,” Johnny said, his gaze hazy and wild as it dropped to your mouth. “Even now. I should bite you right here, make it real fucking simple for you.”

There it was–the wolf that he had hidden from you for so long, the killer wearing the skin of your brother’s best friend. You forced yourself to hold his stare, feeling the sharp prick of his claws on the delicate skin of your throat. 

“I want a proper husband, John,” you said softly. “I want a real father for my child, someone who will be there for the birthdays and graduations and holidays. I want someone to sleep beside me every night, someone that doesn’t make me do this alone.”

You knew you were driving a knife right between his ribs–you knew how badly this would hurt him. Johnny had spent his childhood not being right for his mother, not being human enough, gentle enough. 

His eyes were so bright and so lost. 

“I’ve been alone for six years, John. I don’t ever want Emma to know what that feels like.”

Johnny was silent, his breath coming fast and rough. “I’ll never let another man have you,” he rasped. “You’re mine. Both of you.” 

He pressed closer, nuzzling your jaw with a low growl. “I’ll be a good mate, hen, I suppose it’s only right that I prove myself before we have our next pup.”

“No!” You hissed, pushing him away. “Enough, Johnny. You’ll be gone soon and I’ll have to deal with the fallout as per fucking usual.”

Your words weren’t working–they were working him up instead, like Emma when she watched the neighbor’s squirrels chase each other in the trees. His heart thudded like a drum under your palm. 

“You’re making a scene, kitty,” he said slyly, tilting his head like he wanted nothing more than to give chase. “Now hush, we’ll talk about this later. Emma shouldn’t see Mum and Dad argue.” You opened your mouth to argue, so furious you could hardly think.  

“Mum?” Emma sang, bouncing out of the school. “Oh, Johnny!” She ran to him, the little traitor. Johnny smiled, his sharp edges softening as he swung her up into his arms. “Ach, my girl’s getting heavy,” he teased, nuzzling her face. She mimicked his movements, her smile bright and happy–they were scenting each other. 

You looked away. “C’mon you two,” you said, forcing your tone to lighten. “I only have an hour for lunch.”

You barely touch your food, your stomach twisting and turning in furious knots. A sandwich, your old favorite, sits in front of you, courtesy of Johnny.

The audacity of men. You were the one who had spent countless nights bouncing up and down the hallway with Emma in your arms, exhausted and sore, your breasts swollen and aching from her sharp teeth–yet, Johnny was quickly a new favorite. They were the same, after all, the same species, the same aggressive, needy temperament.

Johnny wiped a bit of mustard from Emma’s cheek, humming at her irritated whine. She was close to her shift, and her skin was sensitive. “Dinna fash, baby, it’s the moon,” he crooned, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. “I woke up this morning w’my skin crawling.”

That was another bump in the road. Emma’s shifts had gotten harder and harder over the years, more anger, more pain, and the internet had barely any information about early childhood shifts. Jack hadn’t been concerned, saying Johnny had the same issues at that age–the only difference was that Johnny was a feral little thing that used to sneak out during the full moon and pick off the strays of London. Emma couldn’t bring herself to squash an ant, much less devour a cat or dog–but then Johnny hadn’t had much human influence, at least, not until you and Tommy. 

“Emma, tell your Ma that if she doesn’t eat, we’ll have to feed her ourselves,” Johnny said. He was smiling, but his eyes were sharp. 

Emma sniffed at your sandwich. “You didn’t have breakfast either, Mum,” she said accusingly. “You always tell me food is good for your brain.”

You cocked an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I’m not hungry.”

“Eat, kitty,” Johnny said, his tone rougher as if you were one of his soldiers. “You look dead on yer feet.” You took a bite, just to appease them. You could still feel the small, stinging cuts his claws had scraped on your jaw. 

#soap x reader #john soap mactavish #cod x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #cod mw3 #soap mactavish

[last-herondale]

Almost Part 8

Bucky Barnes x Femreader!

Warnings: none

Angst, heartbreak, healing

AN: this story is close to my heart. This whole series. I’ll go into more detail perhaps once it’s done.

Enjoy ❤️

Months had passed. The weather here in the islands was warm and tropical. You had always loved the beach. Watching the waves crash against the sand, feeling the warm beams of sun hit your face as you relaxed in a beach chair. Tony had several island houses, some remote, some really, really remote, and then there was the one you had chosen, which was completely isolated away from the rest of the world.

Tony didn’t ask questions when you came to him that early morning. You only told him that you needed to get away. Somewhere no one could find you. Somewhere you could be alone. He gave you an access card, an address, and sent you on your way in one of his private jets. The vacation house was huge, way too big for one single person, but you were not going to complain.

You spent the first few weeks in bed. Your body and soul felt absolutely exhausted. Guilt riddled your chest. You hated leaving your team like that. No explanation, no word at all. It wasn’t fair to the people who you saw as your family. But there wasn’t time to write every single one of them a note. You just left one for Steve and Nat. You left the note with Tony to give to Nat, but you left the note for Steve on your dresser.

It was short, but it was all you could muster before you chickened out. It hurt too much. Feeling like you used Steve, fighting with Bucky, and lying to yourself and everyone else that you are okay. There seemed to be very limited options as to what you could do about it without messing everything you built up. Without destroying the whole team itself, over something as trivial as your heart.

It felt like you were dying. Physically and spiritually. You took sleeping pills just to shut out everything racking in your brain. You hardly ate, even though Tony made sure to send groceries every week. No one had come to check up on you, so you assumed that Tony had made good on his promise to keep your whereabouts secret. It was strange to feel so conflicted. To want nothing more than to be alone, but also want someone to talk to.

So you opted for writing. Tony had plenty of empty journals in the house, some filled with new suit ideas or other inventions, but you found one that looked like it wouldn’t be missed and began writing. It helped. Writing down anything and everything you had been feeling when you felt it. It took a few weeks, but you finally decided to leave the house. You began taking walks, writing on the beach, reading the various books that Tony had. It was nice. It was starting to feel like a vacation.

You created a routine. You woke up early in the mornings on the weekdays, making sure to go on a long walk around the island before the sun rose. Then whenever you were ready, you went back to the house and made yourself something to eat. Sometimes it was breakfast, most times it was lunch by the time you returned. You spent your afternoons either reading or writing or sleeping. It was a bit boring and mundane, but it felt like it was exactly what you needed.

The only thing that bothered you was the zero contact. You did miss your friends. At the mark of one month of your isolation, you decided to write to Nat. You left a note for Tony, asking that he still not give out your whereabouts, but you trusted him enough to write a few letters with Nat. Nat seemed understanding, if not a bit disappointed you hadn’t gone to her first before leaving. She didn’t say anything about Steve or Bucky, although you were very careful not to ask or even hint that you wanted to know. Even though you did. Desperately.

You started writing to her every week. You thought maybe one day she would get fed up with you avoiding everything, but all Nat ever said at the end of her letters were:

“I love you. Just be careful, okay? I’ll always be here for you if you need me.”

It was everything to have her support, and Tonys. You felt as if you were finally getting better. You were finally taking care of your mental health and your feelings, rather than worry about everyone else. It was strange. It felt selfish. But you realized it was needed.

After two months, you decided you needed somewhere a bit more social to be. Tony was happy to oblige, and he and Pepper came to help you get settled into your new living space in Maui. It was smaller than the first house, much to your appreciation. Pepper and you talked for a bit, and it was nice to open up to her. She often seemed so set apart from the chaos of the tower life, so she offered her unbiased opinion.

Tony’s aim was to help you have fun again. Before he and Pepper left, he showed you his favorite spots, and ensured that the owners would take care of you, if you ever decided to enter their establishment. It was nice to be out and social again. Even just being out to dinner with the two of them livened your spirits up more than you thought it would.

That’s when you decided that it was time. You told Tony before he left, that he could share your whereabouts with the team. He had just given you a look of uncertainty, but then shrugged. You weren’t sure if he would follow through, but then Pepper put her hand on your shoulder and you knew she would take care of it.

The local city in Maui was wonderful. It wasn’t full of tourists, but it was bustling full of the locals. They were kind, and very pleasant to be around. Even if you didn’t talk to them much, it was nice to be back around people. You took up a small job, delivering merchandise for one of Tony’s recommended shops. You knew it was a small task, certainly not up to what you were capable of doing, but it kept you busy.

You still wrote daily, keeping up with your journal that was now full. Tony had gifted you a whole set, for however long you wanted to stay. You considered going home. Several times during your trip. The memories of what you left behind… who you left behind. It caused you too much pain.

The pain was ebbing, ever so slowly. The realignment, the refocusing your attention back to yourself made it easier. You realized that you deserved to put yourself first. That you needed to love yourself before you could love anyone. And so these long months have been your love letter to yourself. You followed your heart. Did what you wanted. You were honest with yourself and your needs. Things were finally becoming okay.

You felt like it was finally okay… it was finally acceptable to just be you.

A few people sent their regards. A few letters came in for you, one from Sam, Wanda, and even Scott. Nat visited you the next week Tony left. It was nice to be with her again and be able to cry and hug her. It was nice to converse and be around the people you loved. People that you had neglected in your mess. It made you feel whole again… well almost.

You missed them. Although it was hard to say their names still, you missed them both. You missed them terribly.

And like always, it seemed that the universe had a great sense of humor when it came to you. You were sorting through the mail, a normal routine you did once a week. The letters were from the usual suspects, but one name made your heart stop.

You knew it would happen. Maybe even hoped it would happen. And now it seemed that the time had finally come.

#fem reader #reader x marvel #marvel fanfic club #marvel #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fic #bucky x reader #fan fic author #healing #angst prompt #angst #alone