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januaryembrs · 2 months

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NEARLY BROUGHT ME TO MY KNEES | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [2]

Description: FIVE times Spencer thinks he might like you + the ONE time he knows.

Word length: 20k

Trigger Warnings: death, murder, Lauren arc, spencer's addiction mentioned, Diana's schizophrenia mentioned, vomit, alcohol, blood, usual criminal mind warnings. mommy AND daddy issues in the prentiss family.

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‘so sweet with a mean streak

nearly brought me to my knees.’

The one where he tries flirting

Emily tutted at her as the girl blindly shoved the Lucky Charms in her mouth, her tongue staining a gross blue-green colour from the additives as she read from a battered copy of Anna Karenina. Bugsy had been living with her for just two weeks now, since her impromptu fleeing from the altar, and Emily’s certainly had a good insight into the life of the twenty three year old.

Yes, it was her birthday next week. No, she didn’t act her age anymore than she had at twenty.

“Bug, slow down.” Emily urged, a rogue orange marshmallow dribbling down her chin as she plunged the spoon in before she’d even swallowed the last mouthful, “You get sick when you eat too fast,”

Bugsy waved her off with the utensil, not even ripping her eyes away from the page in front of her, scooping up the marshmallow with the side of her finger and popping it into her mouth.

Emily rolled her eyes, downing a few sips of her coffee and heading for the stairs, knowing her ride would be here any moment and she still had yet to change her shirt from the one she’d spilled toothpaste down not ten minutes earlier.

“Niko needs breakfast when you’re done,” The older of the two shouted down to the breakfast table, a streak of tabby grey running under her feet at the sound of food. Bugsy had insisted she bring her new feline friend into Emily’s apartment, and as much as she’d hated the way she nearly tripped over the chubby bastard almost every day they’d been here, she certainly had a fondness for him.

Bugsy hummed in acknowledgement, though she scraped the edges of her bowl clean by the time the cat in question hopped up onto the counter in search of her leftover milk.

“This is not for you, you have too much already,” She scolded, shovelling the last few sugary pieces of cereal into her mouth right as the door knocked.

She dogeared her page, gulping down a quick sip of Emily’s coffee, cringing when she caught it was much too strong for her liking, and heading for the door, her sister yelling to her again.

“Bug, can you get that- wait- are you wearing pants?”

She certainly wasn’t, having rolled straight out of bed in a pyjama shirt and underwear, and towards the promise of breakfast, nor as she swung the front door to the apartment open before Emily had a chance to rush down the stairs.

Spencer could have laughed when he saw her, all too reminiscent of the first time he’d met her. The boxers that hugged her legs beneath a large top he was entirely convinced was not hers, though her face lit up in excitement to see him.

“Good morning!” He thrust a coffee to-go into her hand, still warm even from where it had been jostled around in his car.

“You’re my saviour,” She grinned, sipping on the sweet beverage with bright eyes, “Cute sweater vest-”

She was quickly manhandled behind the door by two firm hands, Emily’s face enraged as she glared down at her sister where she was now out of sight from the doctor.

“What did I tell you about wearing pants? Huh? You nearly gave Mrs Jensen a heart attack last week,” Emily hissed, as Bugsy shrugged, remembering the look of horror the old woman across the hall had given her when she’d taken the trash out in a hoodie and booty shorts.

“It’s Spencer,” She poked her head around the door, despite Emily’s shoving, like she was taming a wild animal, “You don’t mind, do you?”

He shook his head, an amused and easy smile on his face as he watched the sisters bicker, not entirely unlike the way he and Emily tended to pick at one another.

“Not at all; I agree pants are loathable,” And he wasn’t lying. He tried to go for looser fitting trousers or sweat pants, hating the way the tight fabrics restricted his legs, rubbed his skin, making him want to itch and squirm inside his body.

“Don’t you start,” Emily pointed at him, huffing as she stepped out of the apartment, “You know she gets all worked up and weird on sugar,”

“Hey, I’m the last person to deny someone a coffee,” He replied, and the two turned to head back to his car, not before he threw the younger woman a look over his shoulder and a wave.

“Go save the world, kiddos.” She waved back, sipping her coffee indeed with bare legs that would have a nun blushing, “Curfews at nine, Doctor Reid, I expect both of you home for dinner!” She nudged the door closed with her hip before Niko could run out after Emily, and Spencer chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

“See, told you,” Emily sniggered, rolling her eyes, “Weird,”

Though that wasn’t quite the word he’d have used.

–

A killer, so far as they had been able to profile from the four bodies, was targeting women he picked up in night clubs in Atlanta. Most of the team, except Derek, had outgrown the clubbing scene, though Spencer didn’t quite think he’d ever been in it to start with. They all went to O’Keeffe’s usually once a month or so for a quick drink, but it was not big on his list.

Rossi, Reid and Derek stared at the puddle of blood on the sidewalk, wincing as Emily leaned over the balcony, the five story drop making her tug her lip in between her teeth.

This woman must have been terrified by something, someone, to see this as a better way out.

“Maybe she fought back,” Hotch speculated behind her, drawing her attention back to the cleaning equipment scattered over the floor, entirely different to the last three crime scenes where they had been arranged neatly into a triangle, “And when Becky fought back, his routine was compromised, cause he knew the police would respond,”

“Or she could have jumped,” Emily responded gravely, shaking her head at the carpet beneath her boots, “Her nervous system is pumping adrenaline, her fight or flight response kicks in?” Both were equally plausible options, but not ones they had time to entirely pick over.

“He’s struck two Fridays in a row, and if his routine’s been interrupted, it might compel him to strike again,” Hotch said, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his brow furrowed deeper than it usually was.

“It’s Saturday, the clubs will be packed tonight,” Emily replied, her eyes sad, worried.

“Take a look at the classes the Unsub might have taken, we need to generate a suspect pool as soon as possible,” Her boss ordered, and she nodded heading for the door before she stopped, looking at him with a grimace he didn’t quite understand, “What is it?”

“Bugs-my sister used to work as a shot girl in a club.” She said after a moment of thought, “She could smell a rat from a mile away; said most girls who work in bars get this sixth sense about guys with bad intentions, so they know when to cut them off earlier than most,”

Emily looked at him for a moment, and he seemed troubled, hesitant as she was to even tease the idea to him, before he sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

“Call her in.” He said through an outbreath, gritting his teeth the way he did when he was in between a rock and a hard place.

Rock being another girl murdered by tonight with a huge opportunity to catch the guy in the act missed. Hard place being a twenty-three year old risking her skin for his team for a third time. He hated the paperwork she brought him, hated the look on her face the day Spencer and Derek had dragged her out of that chapel bloodied and shaken even more.

“But she wears a vest under her clothes, and she stays with Reid and Morgan,” He reasoned, “And just purely scouting; if the Unsub strikes, she gets out there like any other civilian.”

Emily nodded, her hand routing through her pockets for her phone already, “Couldn’t agree more,” She said, hitting the call button with a sigh. She just hoped this time her baby sister wouldn’t be making any drastic calls like throwing herself in the Unsub’s way. Though, Emily knew Spencer wouldn’t let her take another hit for him ever again. Not after the way he’d seemed so distraught the moment she’d been dragged from that room, his eyes all but glistening with tears when he’d seen her on the bed, bloodied and beaten for his sake.

No, Emily could stake her life on the fact Reid would go down swinging before that ever happened to her again.

“When you think about the nature of serial crimes, it’s amazing there aren’t more predators in clubs,” Spencer said, hoping the pretty girls he’d managed to snag into conversation didn’t hear the way his voice stuttered. This was so far out of his depth, the entire club atmosphere suffocating him worse than any tight pants ever could. The music was too loud, the heavy bass making him wince, the air was too close, too warm, the bodies that kept shoving past him made him want to shower for two hours straight and then wash his hands as well. He’d turned down the drink Derek had offered him, knowing the exact amount of bacteria that swarmed the ice behind the bar, on the rims of the glasses, on the taps-

Spencer was more than overwhelmed. And talking to beautiful women was not helping his flushed demeanour whatsoever.

“I mean, excessive amounts of alcohol, countless opportunities for date rape drugs, not to mention suprisingly risky behaviour being pursued,” He counted off, his satchel strapped tightly to his side, “All right, so who wants a flyer?” The three women turned their nose up in awkward smiles, the tallest pushing past him with little more than an outright scoff, the other girl following her like lost dogs, “Nobody? Okay, all right,” He said, his face crestfallen at their reaction, though he wasn’t so unused to it. Girls tended to react that way when he spoke, his entire high school career had been the same. Infact, the only girl other than his co-workers who ever bothered to listen when he spoke was-

“I’ll take one,” A voice came from behind him, the same one he had incidentally been thinking of since they’d left Emily’s apartment, and he could already tell she was smiling before he whipped around to see her slinking through the crowd.

He was ready to retort something clever, but felt his words congeal in his throat. He had thought, that day when he’d stopped the elevator and seen her in a sodden wedding dress, that he had seen her at her most beautiful. Yes, her makeup had been tracking down her face with her tears, her hair sticking to her cheeks, her expression weepy. But she had reminded him of a star, glistening with the rain, the water shimmering off the snow white fabric, it had taken his breath away then, even when she’d thrown her arms over his shoulders, as if he was the only thing that she could grab on to for safety.

But that dress was nothing like the one she wore now.

It was nothing extravagant, and truthfully he’d seen at least ten girls in this club alone that had gone way more lavish than she had bothered to on such short notice. But, Spencer couldn’t help but take her whole image in as she shoved her way in front of him, an easy smile on her face.

“Beats boxers and pyjama shirts, huh?” She twirled cheekily, warming under his gaze that blinked heavily at her. The dress had been an old thing she’d bought for a frat party, when she’d felt particularly sorry for herself and was going out looking for a bonehead jock to take home. It fit her nicely, complimented the areas she wanted it to, hid the others. A good fail safe option for a last minute night out like this. Covered the kevlar vest Hotch and Emily had wrangled her into.

Not her finest moment, being jumped on by her older sister as her boss forced the bullet jacket over her head; the new girl, Jordan, staring in discomfort as she’d cursed both of them out colourfully for ruining her outfit, but the way Spencer seemed to gulp heavily made her smile wider.

“You look…” He swallowed again, his fingers digging into the flyers in his hand. Hot. She looked hot. Hot enough that he felt his face flush with the same feeling, he hoped she couldn’t see the way he blushed beneath the club lights, “Beautiful,” He settled on, because ‘hot’ was an entirely Derek word to use.

“So you keep telling me,” Bugsy preened under his gaze, grinning like she knew something he didn’t. Grabbing one of the flyers from his sweaty palms gently, she took a look at the general sketch, not noticing the way he had yet to tear his eyes off her, “Alright, this the guy?”

“Yeah, we think he has a mark of some sort- like a birthmark or a scar over his left eyebrow,” He informed, corralling her towards where Morgan stood, his own eyes widening at the girl’s attire.

They knew she was coming to help scout the scene, they didn’t realise she’d come so ready. Derek immediately felt stupid for doubting her.

“Woah, did someone call the fire department, because you’re about to set the damn sprinklers off,” He teased, her face lighting up at the man she knew had a way of making her feel a million bucks every time he saw her.

Emily said he had little sisters of his own, and maybe that was how he knew just what to say. He had many years of experience being the best big brother.

“Oh, please, you guys spoil me,” She snickered, though her eyes scanned the crowd for a general scope of the club. Safe to say she did not miss the eight pm till four am shifts she used to pull, nor did she miss the drunk bodies swaying around her, the men who would get handsy, the girls who would get scrappy, “So, how’s it going?”

“Not good, I gave the profile to one woman and she asked if I was the unsub,” Spencer sighed, running a hand through his rogue curls, the humidity of the stuffy bar making them tighten around his ears just that bit more. “How are you doing?”

“Well, I gave out all my flyers,” Derek said smugly, though Spencer’s eyebrows raised, a smile teasing at his lips.

“Oh yeah? How many phone numbers did you get?” Bugsy snorted at his words, looking between the men with a smirk.

“None, I’m working the case here, kids,” Derek tutted, to which Spencer and Bugsy looked at eachother with identical doubt, flicking their gaze back to Morgan. He huffed, “Okay, four were offered, but I didn’t take any of them.”

Spencer’s jaw dropped, face scrunching in confusion how Morgan was so charismatic with women even when he wasn’t trying.

“Alright, I’m gonna go grab more flyers from the van. You,” He clapped a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “Need to relax, man. Remind me to teach you the basics on picking up girls. And you,” Derek pointed to where Bugsy nodded patiently, “Make sure wonder boy doesn’t get eaten alive. And stay together.”

She nodded again, watching him leave through the crowd; already a woman grabbed on his arm for his attention, where she watched him politely decline with one of those flirty smoulders he’d mastered.

“I don’t get how he does it. I mean, I get he has the whole body of a God thing going for him,” Spencer sighed, as the two of them went back out into the crowd, scanning for a group of girls who looked particularly sober enough to listen, “But, he just has this way, you know. I’ll don’t think I’ll ever have the way,”

“Don’t put yourself down like that,” She chastised, nudging him affectionately with her elbow, “You’re very beautiful yourself, you know? You don’t need some stupid way, you just need to be yourself,”

She said it as if it was nothing, as if it hadn’t just hit him in the chest that she thought he was attractive, though he still remembered that first day they’d met when she assumed he was a stripper.

His heart swelled in his chest.

“You really think so?” He asked unsure, waiting for her to laugh in his face and tell him it had just been a tease, she was good at those. But she was never cruel. Never to him. He didn’t know why he’d expected it.

“Absolutely! I’ve seen like three girls already giving you goo-goo eyes. Believe me, you got the looks,” She simpers, watching his eyes scan the crowd to look for the supposed culprits.

“So, what, it’s my personality they don't like?” He asked, though he knew that was more than likely the case. He’d always been told he buzzed in people’s ears like a fly, like he was simply background noise the greater population wanted to tune out.

He knew that would be it. It didn’t stop the small stab of hurt in his stomach however.

“If someone doesn’t like your personality, that is a them problem, Spencer, not you,” Bugsy was quick to snap, the joking lessening in her eyes as she caught his dejected expression, “Girls like it when you talk about something you enjoy, something you know what you’re talking about. Which should be easy, since you know everything. What do you feel most comfortable talking about?”

“Statistics,” He said with a nod, to which she looked at him fondly.

“Okay, we have statistics as a backup option. Anything else?” She looked at him, the light bouncing off her eyes in a way that had him pause to think.

“Magic?” He offered, and she smiled even wider, if that was even possible.

“Magic! Perfect, girls love feeling magical,” She beamed, nudging him again with her elbow, and the two of them walked over to the bar, “Show me then, Gandalf. What moves would you pull on me if I was a girl?”

He blinked at her, “Are you … not a girl?” He asked, pure bewilderment on his face as he stole a few napkins from the counter.

She snickered, “Okay, if I wasn’t me. If you didn’t know me,”

“If I didn’t know you, I’d be way too nervous to even talk to you. And you definitely wouldn’t want to talk to me,” He said as he fiddled with the paper between his obnoxiously long fingers, folding the sheets into miniature shapes.

She chuckled at him, shaking her head. It had never been like this with them before. Sure, she teased him, like she always had, but he was teasing back. Complimenting her with a seriousness beyond just being nice.

Something was different in him since the day Cyrus dragged her away. And if that hadn’t done it, then seeing her every morning for two weeks had changed the boyish anxiety that had lingered even then.

“Stop stalling and show me these tricks of yours,” She bit playfully, though the grin she gave him was genuine as she saw something mischievous flash in his eyes.

“Patience is virtue, patience is virtue-” He murmured, fiddling with the short, plastic straws they kept at the bar, “Now for this to work, I’m going to need a beautiful assistant. Do you think you could find one for me-”

She smacked his arm, and he snickered. She shook her head, fighting her own laugh overcoming her.

Maybe she was right. Talking about something he loved made him feel entirely at ease, like he controlled every angle their conversation took, and the air between them had taken this odd electric turn he wasn’t expecting like someone had pumped a thousand volts under his skin.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” He replied, holding out one of the straws, about as plain and simple as it would be if it were in a drink, “But I will need some magic words,”

“Ofcourse,” She drawled, her cheeks hurting from how tight she was smiling, “What are they?”

“Magic words are, ‘I’ll be there’” He instructed, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves as he watched her frown, and he pointed the straw at her mouth like a microphone, “You got it?”

“Yep,” She responded, even though the confusion read clear as day on her face. He tapped the straw on her nose and cleared his throat.

“3, 2, 1,” He tapped it to her temple, then to each of her shoulders, “Go on a date with me?”

“I’ll be there,” She responded, and in a strobe of light the single instrument became a trio of origami roses, stuffed into the straws as stems.

Her brain caught up to her as he gently placed them in her hand, her eyes gazing at him like he had just presented her with a 24 carat diamond, though in reality it was nothing more than a silly trick with napkins and plastic.

“Spencer,” She said earnestly, and he could have sworn her voice quivered for a split second, before she shook her head at him, punching him on the hip gently, “You are the most humble man I’ve ever met. You do that to any other girl and you’re getting laid, I’m telling you,”

He rubbed his chin bashfully, both of them catching the way the waitress behind the bar watched him with large, blue eyes Bugsy could have bathed in. She was gorgeous, and she stared at Spencer as if she’d been the one given roses.

Attracted. Interested.

“Talk to her,” Bugsy whisper-yelled, nodding over to the barmaid who busied herself with another order, though they both saw the way her flicking glances to the two of them as she scooped ice, “She would have seen if a guy like that frequented somewhere like here, talk to her,”

“What- no-” He protested, but his eyes widening as Bugsy leaned over the bar to flag the woman down with that playful charisma of hers, not missing the way a few heads turned as the dress tightened around her ass as she bent forward.

He felt his chest flash with anger, glaring at the men, hoping it was enough to ward them off. Her hand enclosed around his wrist, drawing his attention back to the bartender who watched him with a sweet face. He had to admit she was attractive.

“This is my very best friend, Spencer,” Bugsy told the woman, who smiled at him, and the Prentiss girl lifted his hand up to wave at her like he was a ragdoll, “Spencer, wanted to show you something, didn’t you, Spence?”

Raising her eyebrows at him, nodding to the flyers in his hand.

“I’m gonna go dance,” She fibbed, knowing she was going to go scout out the crowd to see if any guys fit the profile, nudging him a little harder than before, “Remember what we talked about. I’ll be by the DJ,”

Grinning encouragingly, he watched her swoop into the crowd like it was second nature, not missing the collection of guys who watched her every move; she captured the room when she moved, when she smiled, when she politely excused herself past a group of girls that tried to pull her into their circle with friendly cheers.

He did another one of his tricks for Austin, he’d come to learn was the name of the girl behind the bar, but it hadn’t felt the same, not even when she gave him her number unprompted, even as she flirted, smiled prettily, batted those sea blue eyes at him. It wasn’t the same.

He worried for a moment that the electricity he’d felt was reserved only for Bugsy, but he squashed it down faster than he could confront the idea.

2. The one where he nearly dies

“I don’t know how to do this,” JJ confessed, her bluebell eyes filled with tears as she stared out of her boss’ office and into the bullpen full of officers, scientists and even the damn military tearing through pages and pages of resources for answers.

Anthrax. A weapon of mass destruction they’d already had a small dose of, was on the move through the BAU’s own city. And they each had strict instructions to not alert their loved ones.

“I can’t stop thinking about Henry,” She whimpered through a strong facade as she turned to Hotch, and she saw the same guilt eating him up in those dark eyes of his that rarely let anything slip.

He had Jack. He had Haley, even with the divorce papers signed so long ago. He had people at risk too. And yet she couldn’t stop seeing her precious little boy’s face as he lay back in his pushchair and enjoyed the sights of the park, the same park that had just been targeted with an airborne disease-

“He goes for a walk almost every single day at Potomac Park,” She sniffed, the nausea chewing away at her brain as she recounted the lesions on that poor teenage girls skin, that's going to be Henry, that’s going to be Will, “What type of mother am I if I don’t atleast call and tell them to stay home?”

“JJ, we can’t,” Hotch said, though he felt his own dam start to tear down as he tried not to think of what could possibly happen to his own sweet son.

“I know, but-” Her throat bobbed, “It-it’s not just me- Emily’s worried about Bugsy. She told me she cuts through the park on the way to her lectures- she has one every day this week- Hotch-”

It was true. She had caught Emily in her own turmoil as the woman sped off to grab a drink seconds after chugging down the dose of Cipro they’d all been given that morning. She’d caught her filling a glass of water until the liquid started leaking down the sides and went over her shaking fingers, and even then she’d had to tug her friend out of whatever rabbit hole the words ‘Media Blackout’ had sent her down.

“I understand you both have people you want to protect,” Hotch was the voice of reason, as he always was, and it stung her to see his face so cold since she knew he was drowning his own sorrows behind it, “But if we all called home and used this information to give us an advantage other people don’t have, is that the right thing to do?”

She bit her lip, knowing he was right. She just prayed on everything she had Will would stay home with Henry today, Haley would have a movie night with Jack, and for whatever she had seen in Emily’s eyes earlier, a pure, unadulterated self-loathing, that Bugsy at least took the day off teaching.

JJ prayed, and prayed, and prayed.

–

She shuffled her notes together as she marked papers at her desk. They let her take the office to herself since she’d been at the University for five months now, gave her free reign of her lectures without having a supervisor like they had the first eight weeks or so. Bugsy enjoyed, surprising as it was to her, the feeling of somewhere that wasn’t the laboratory. Emily and Spencer had forced her to apply for jobs when they caught her binge watching real housewives for the sixth time back to back, of course lacking any bottoms.

Emily didn’t know why she thought twenty-four year old Bugsy would be any different. They had thought at least that Derek holding her hair back on the night of her birthday party as she threw up copious amounts of jello shots on the sidewalk would be an eye opening moment, but it hadn’t deterred her in the slightest. She had just chucked a handful of gum in her mouth, patted the man on the back and asked Emily to hit up the drive thru on their way home.

It wasn’t until she got the job did she feel a little bit more responsible, like what she was doing actually affected the people around her. Teaching first year college students was so very different than she’d expected, she was the authority figure.

She could hear her mother laughing at her now.

She almost smudged the little smiley face she’d drawn beside one of her student’s B+ as the phone rang on her desk, because she had an office phone believe it or not, and she cleared her throat, trying to sound as grown up as possible whilst also trying not to grin how excited she was to use her new landline.

“Miss Prentiss speaking, who’s calling?” She said, almost not recognising herself as she squeezed her gel pen in delight. She had this grown up thing down to a tea.

“Hi, Bug.” Spencer’s voice sounded out of breath, and she heard his converse slapping against a linoleum floor fast, as if he was pacing, “I got a quick hypothetical to run through with you,”

“Y-yeah, sure- Where are you?” She asked, her brows furrowing when he gave a wheezy cough, “Spence?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you, but I’m fine- for now,” He winced as he said the last part, as if it had slipped unintentionally, as if he knew what was coming next. He could practically hear her brain ticking over, “So, when you’re in the lab-”

“What do you mean for now?” She cut him off, standing up from her desk, already collecting her pencils back into their little pink case, “Where’s Emily? Is she okay? Is anyone hurt?”

“Everyone’s fine; as I was saying, hypothetically, when you’re in the lab where would you-” He talked over her right back, his slender fingers flicking through the piles of work, hoping he stumbled on a formula, a sticky note, a damn cheat sheet, anything.

“Don’t avoid my question, Spencer,” She snapped, and she could already feel the worry lines on her forehead.

He sighed, hoping she couldn’t hear the way his chest rattled and he choked down a cough. It would only make her worry more.

“I promise I will tell you what’s going on if you just answer my question,” Spencer rushed, feeling his face growing sweaty, opening the entire cabinet of drawers. “Okay?”

She nodded, biting her nail, as she sat back down. “Okay fine, shoot,”

“Where would you put your valuable items if you didn’t trust your lab partner while the two of you were working together?” He asked, wiping his brow with his sleeve as he held the phone tight to his ear with his shoulder.

She paused for a moment, “Well it’s standard practice that all jewellery comes off before we get scrubbed, so as not to contaminate anything. I usually put my scrunchie through my rings and tied it back into my hair so they wouldn’t get stolen. I knew some guys who put their watches around their ankles. Basically anywhere we could feel it on us,”

He cleared his throat again, and she heard him take a few steps, “How’s grading papers going? Did you get a fax machine yet?”

He was trying to change the subject, trying to take her mind off whatever it was he was doing that required such an urgent and peculiar question.

“It’s going good, I miss you bringing me coffee; it was like I had a maid who helped me with my crosswords,” She said, biting her bottom lip squeezing her thumb in the middle of her fist to slow the nerves. He tried to pretend he wasn’t smiling hearing that. “Now tell me what’s wrong. Did you go running without your inhaler again? I told you to leave a spare at ours so I could rescue you if you ever-”

“Bugsy, you’re a genius!” He cried, ignoring the way it made his throat burn, “Remind me to tell you every single day how smart you are- I have to go,”

“Spence- Spencer-” She tried to cut in, but he had already put the phone down.

So much for not worrying her, she thought, as she got on the phone to Emily within seconds.

Bugsy all but burst through the hospital doors, apologising when she nearly knocked a stack of files from a nurse's hands, wishing she had an inhaler herself after she had ran all the way from the car park, including the three flights of stairs.

After calling in sick the rest of the day, and practically volleying her rucksack into the passenger's seat of her car, she had blindly called Emily four more times until the woman answered with a frightened lilt to her voice.

Spencer was headed to the hospital. Spencer was headed there on full blues with lungs full of an even deadlier strain of Anthrax. Last Emily had heard he was getting worse. Bugsy put her foot down on the pedal even harder.

She knew the speeding ticket would come any day, and didn't even want to think about the state of her parking. All she cared about the second the lady at the desk had said what room he was in was seeing he was okay, that he wasn’t growing lesions or choking on his own blood or having half of his brain boiled alive.

Bugsy felt a small spike of panic, if it could even get worse, as she yanked the curtain back to see him asleep, a cannula tucked into his nose, a hospital gown tied over his shoulders.

Diving for his file that was attached to the end of his bed, she looked through his information to check what meds he’d been given. He once told her he was allergic to narcotics, said he had been since birth, and while she trusted one of the team to have passed the information on, she had to see it for herself that he was stable.

No narcotics given. Only paracetamol for his fever that was rapidly coming down. She could breathe again.

She jumped out of her skin when the curtain rail was pulled back a second time, and Derek seemed to startle for a moment too before a tired smile met his handsome face.

“Where have you been, Baby Prentiss?” His breath knocked out of him when she threw herself at him, a sigh of relief coming from her bitten lips.

“Oh, thank god you’re okay,” She murmured, and his chuckle echoed through his chest into her ear, “You all worried me half to death,”

“You’re looking very grown up,” He teased as he patted her on the back. And she was. She had taken to wearing maxi skirts and tights, even throwing on a cute blazer for affect, she was the teacher after all. She shoved him away with a smack to the chest. He laughed, holding up the opened pot of jell-o to her face, “Jell-o?”

She gagged, filled with memories of her birthday.

He shook his head with a smile as she sat down in the seat next to the bed and he spooned the first mouthful of the fruity dessert into his mouth.

“Is everyone else alright?” She asked, wringing her hands together. She fought back the urge to tuck Spencer’s curls behind his ear, knowing he was sleeping peacefully.

“Stop worrying. Team’s fine; we caught the guy and confiscated his supply. Even saved the last few survivors with you telling Reid where to look,” Morgan watched her jaw feather, and she picked under her nails.

“I keep telling you guys, I didn’t do anything. I just… spoke to him. He’s the genius, not me,” She said solemnly, staring into her lap with a frown.

“Not to him. Whole journey back, before the aphasia kicked in, he kept telling paramedics to tell Doctor Kimura it was you who’d figured it out.” Derek said, but it seemed to make her sulk more.

She said nothing, pulling out her book from her bag to continue reading as she waited for him to wake up, and Derek took it as a sign she was in no mood to talk, god forbid even take a compliment, and opened the magazine he’d grabbed from the cafeteria.

–

Half an hour and another pot of pudding for Morgan later (she gagged again at the sweet strawberry smell of it), the pair of them sat in silence, reading their own materials when a very sleepy, doe eyed man looked up and frowned.

“Are you eating Jell-O?” Spencer asked, barely noticing the girl on the other side of the bed, who shot up out of her seat as he came around.

“Hey doc. You have a visitor,” Morgan said with a small smile, Spencer’s face falling into a frown. He looked to the other side of him, just in time to see a worn copy of Middlemarch being flung to the floor and a hand grabbing his clammy ones tightly.

“Spencer I’m- I’m so mad at you-” She gasped, every soppy feeling of sadness she’d been stewing in leaving her body when she saw his hazel eyes fall to her, “You put the phone down on me and next thing I know you’re in the back of an ambulance nearly flatlining- I’m so-”

She breathed when she saw his eyes soften. He didn’t think she knew it but he saw the way her eyes glistened, her voice trembled underneath her anger. He felt the way she had yet to let go of his hand, how nice and warm it felt in his palm.

“I’m sor-” He hadn’t even finished his apology when she had latched onto him, trying not to hug him too tight but hard enough she could tell herself he was still here. He was okay.

And he could understand. He’d felt the same when they’d found her in that church, when Cyrus had hauled her away after she’d practically offered herself up in exchange for him. He’d known she was braver than she gave herself credit for, but that had stopped his heart right there and then. He had grabbed her in a hug the first chance he’d got even then, even when he barely knew her, when she was Emily’s sister and not Bugsy. Not the woman he’d spent every morning with for weeks bringing her a coffee just the way she enjoyed it, the woman he’d sat with on Emily’s couch with her legs across his lap as they did the puzzles in the morning paper together. She tried to do them, and he would finish them when she got too annoyed by the ones she couldn’t answer.

“I’m sorry,” He said, his arms gently hugging her back and he felt something wet on his shoulder blade before he knew what it was. He felt even worse for worrying her, squeezing her tighter than was even comfortable for him.

“Don’t do that to me again,” She said through tears as she settled in his arms.

He really hoped she couldn’t hear the way his heart pounded.

3. The one at Haley’s funeral

She had no idea what to say. Emily had always been the one who knew how to talk to people. She had this horrible habit of saying the first thing that came to her head, probably because a lot of the time it was the most real, and people liked real.

But now wasn’t the time for what was best for her. Haley Hotchner had been murdered.

She hadn’t spoken to Hotch yet, she’d only met the man a handful of times. But he’d invited her anyway, for the team. For Emily, maybe even Spencer; Emily said he liked when she was around. She couldn’t imagine any other reason she would be there.

Other than, ofcourse, to be Spencer’s crutch. Literally. Since his real one had broken and he was still limping around with one knee weakened by the bullet wound in it.

She’d nearly had a heart attack when he’d called from the hospital, again, though this time he’d waited until he’d gotten the all clear to tell her so she didn’t panic quite as much as last time. She’d cursed him out for being so reckless, and requested another week's sick pay to take care of him until he was able to actually walk. It was only a one year contract with the university anyway, she didn’t care if she missed a few days to make sure he was okay.

“You look very handsome today,” She whispered to him as she hauled him out of the car, minding that he didn't hit his head on the ceiling. He gave her a small smile and tucked her own hair behind her ear seeing it come loose from its braid when she’d leaned down to grab him.

“Just today?” He asked, and she finally smiled back. She’d been stuck in a bubble in the car; her and Emily both had. They had the same thinking face, he’d realised.

“Just especially today,” She answered honestly, and he worked on adjusting his black jacket so she could hold onto him comfortably. She was quieter than usual. Feeble, almost.

“Thankyou, you do too,” He replied, his face scrunching after a moment, “Look pretty I mean,”

He leaned on her arm, looped it around hers as he tried to be the least amount of imposing as possible. That went about as well as you’d expect for a six foot one bag of bones.

She gave up after just a few steps, moving his arm to wrap around her shoulder as she walked with him. To anyone else they would easily pass as a couple, especially as she squeezed him tightly to her when the men laid down Hayley’s coffin, and the service began.

“W.S Gilbert wrote ‘It’s love that makes the world go around’ and if that’s true, then the world spun a little faster with Hayley in it.” Aaron began, his voice strong as his large hands gripped the eulogy like it would give him any comfort. She smiled softly, her eyes glued to the man who stood unmoving for his son, “Haley was my best friend since we were in high school. We certainly had our struggles but if there’s one thing we agreed on unconditionally, it was our love and our commitment to our son, Jack,”

Bugsy smiled sadly when Jack looked to the floor bashfully. Glancing between the photo on top of the coffin, a beautiful blonde woman grinning back at her with brilliantly happy eyes and a soft face, she saw where he got most of his looks from.

“Haley’s love for Jack was joyous, and fierce. That fierceness is why she isn’t here today. A mother’s love is an unrivalled force of nature, and we can all learn much from the way Haley lived her life. Haley’s death causes each of us to stop and take stock of our lives. To measure who we are and who we’ve become.” She felt Spencer’s head knock into hers, felt the sniff run through him, and she searched her pocket for a tissue, “I don’t have all those answers for myself, but I know who Haley was. She was the woman who died protecting the child we brought into this world together; and I will make sure Jack grows up knowing who his mother was. And how she loved and protected him. And how much I loved her.”

If Haley were here today she would tell us not to mourn her death. She would tell us-” Aaron cut himself off with a watery voice, his resolve finally melting as he realised this would be some of his final words to his wife. Bugsy felt her bottom lip quiver in remorse, “She would tell us to love our families unconditionally. And to hold them close because in the end they are all that matter.”

Spencer felt her tug him closer as she hid the lone few tears from the rest of the mourners and wished more than ever he could press a small kiss to her brow.

–

No, Bugsy was not good with knowing what to say and when. Wasn’t good at cheering people up no matter how much Spencer told her she always made him feel better. Didn’t really know much about how to make someone understand that she cared other than showing them with her whole body.

So by the time it was her turn to offer condolences, she didn’t bother shaking his hand. That meant nothing to her. That was a business deal, that was an agreement, a formal way to pretend you cared. But she did, she felt terrible for Hotch, wanted to fix him and his sweet son until Haley was right back there to thank her.

She didn’t shake his hand like everyone else had. He held his hand out for one, his eyes soft and warm, like he could see she was struggling. She brushed past his hand and just pulled him in for a hug, and he wondered if she was always going to greet him that way.

“I guessed that sorry wouldn’t make anything better so I brought you the biggest bottle of wine the store had,” She murmured into his chest, and she was gobsmacked to hear him chuckle weakly. She felt his hands pat her on the back gently, and he appreciated her candour. “I’ve got some Xanax if you’d really like a treat,”

She was a breath of fresh air. Aaron truthfully had been sick of people saying they were so sorry for his loss, and he felt like shaking them and yelling, screaming that they hadn’t been the one to kill Haley, Foyet had.

He pushed all of it down, focusing on the way she’d tucked herself to him like she had the day she’d become a runaway bride dripping rainwater over his bureau floor.

“She would have really liked you,” Aaron confessed, and they finally parted, and she saw he was smiling like he meant it, not just saying it to make her feel more comfortable being here. “You would have made her laugh,”

He saw the easy expression on her face fade, and she turned to look at her heels, nodding quietly.

“I would have been lucky to have known her,” She said, handing him the gift bag with a very heavy present inside. “I only wish someone would ever love me the way you love her,’

And with that she bid him a smile, and returned to her seat in between Emily and JJ, the pair of them mother henning her all day.

Aaron wished he could have said more to her after that, but before he knew it, someone else was offering him their condolences, and the sadness in her voice was forgotten.

–

The team sat around the table, nursing their beers, or in Spencer and Bugsy’s case a tea. Spencer didn’t want to affect his healing process with alcohol, not that he’d ever been big on the stuff, and Bug said she struggled driving even without the help of a beer, so they chatted between sips from two very fancy china cups.

Emily and JJ sat to the other side of her talking about how beautiful the flower arrangements were when a small, fawn haired body came wandering over to where Will held a one year old Henry on his knee.

“Would he like to play?” Jack asked shyly, trying to peer up onto the adults table to see if there were any other kids his age that would like to do something with him. His dad had been busy talking to all those people, and auntie Jessica had been trying to make it round to every table to thank people for being here. He didn’t entirely understand what was happening, in all honesty.

“He’s still a little too small yet honey. In a year or so, you guys can be best friends,” JJ said sweetly as he pulled his chin up to the tabletop and spied the younger woman sitting next to uncle Spencer.

He tottered over to her, where she sat unaware she had a shadow until Spencer's face softened as he looked behind her, and she swivelled around in her seat.

“Hello,” Jack said quietly, looking up at where she seemed to buffer, feeling eight pairs of eyes on her as she interacted with the small boy.

She had never been good with children, had never been around them since she was their age, even the kids she taught now were all at least eighteen.

The mantra to absolutely not fuck up the next few moments reverberated around her head.

She gave him a soft smile, holding out a hand for him to shake, “Hi, Jack. I’m Emily’s sister. You can call me Bugsy,”

His tiny nose scrunched as he watched her, shaking her hand the way dad had shown him how.

“Bugsy? That’s a weird name,” He said, and she chuckled, “Like the bunny?”

She shrugged, “I guess like the bunny, yeah,” although she had never thought of that before.

“Would you like to play with me?” Jack asked, and she felt her chest warm unnaturally. He had such a sweet face. It was just like the woman in the picture.

Smiling at him crookedly, she rooted around her bag for the notebook and pens she kept for her to-do lists. Maybe Spencer was rubbing off on her.

“We could do some drawing if you want?” She offered, showing him the pad with kind eyes. That seemed to satiate him as he grabbed her knee and started pulling himself up to sit in her lap, and she paused.

Kids were so funny, she realised, she would never just start grabbing someone she just met and asking to climb on their lap.

She got him comfortable on her knee, not noticing the flashing glances Spencer gave her between his conversation with Kevin, Garcia’s beau, as Jack started drawing a bunny with a human face, that was supposedly meant to be her.

Spencer watched her giggle as he gave the rabbit a pretty dress, like the one she was wearing, and Spencer had to admit it was a pretty dress she’d gone for today. Had he not been so mournful earlier he thinks he would have blushed how tight she’d held him.

She showed him how to play noughts and crosses, and she let him win most of them, laughing when he asked to tear out the page from her notebook to show his dad later.

That is, until the man himself came over to the table of his work colleagues, only to see the group watching their youngest playing with his sweet son.

“Bugsy,” Hotch said, and her head shot up to him, a guilty look passing over her face, worried she’d overstepped, though the fact he hadn’t said her real name said otherwise, “Can I talk to you for a moment outside, please?”

She blinked, straightening in her seat “O-ofcourse!” Shuffling Jack off her lap as fast as she could without hurting him, smoothing out her dress down as she followed him to the small balcony the funeral home had. It was a classy manor, but she guessed Hotch would have only had the best for Haley.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Jack asked to sit on my lap- and- I’m not good with kids anyway I just didn’t want to tell him no, especially not today-” He put his hand on her shoulder to shut her up, a small smile spreading on his face. It was fatherly and calming, something her own father had been much too busy to ever bother with.

“Not at all, that’s not why I called you out here,” He reassured, squeezing her gently as he leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath of the midnight air, and he felt his professional mask begin to slip. “I’ve been thinking… about how much help you've been to us over the years. Reid would be dead if it wasn’t for you.” She opened her mouth to protest, and he flashed her a look that said he was serious. “Let me finish,”

She wrung her hands guiltily, “Sorry,”

“You’re very resilient far beyond your years, you’re incredibly charismatic when you need to be, and you’re by far one of the smartest people your age,” He said, watching her face to see how she felt. He knew she didn’t take compliments well, for some other reason they could dig into any other day. But he needed to say it now, needed her to know now for what he was about to ask her.

“Whether that is true or not, why are you telling me this?” She asked politely, without the usual bite that went with it when they tried calling her something she wasn’t.

“I need to take some time off to spend with Jack, try and help him…” He trailed off, unsure as to what he wanted to say. “Help him understand Haley’s not coming home,”

She nodded with a glistening lash line, and grabbed onto his arm gently.

“My team looks to me to be their glue, but I know I can’t keep everyone together and look after my son. Emily said your contract at the University was ending,” He cleared his throat, looking at her again with something vulnerable in his sable black eyes, “So I was wondering if you would reconsider the FBI academy? It’s only twenty weeks, but Rossi and I can put you forward to do the written exams earlier if you’d like, and then Strauss can have you assigned a trainee position at the BAU-”

“Anything,” She nodded, “Anything you need, I’ll do it,” and he hugged her for once. Maybe it was the way she had said it so willingly, no matter her own reservations about joining the academy, no matter her stubbornness and resistance to her sisters pestering, or even the fact they all talked weekly about how much easier their job would be if she was there. Her and Reid’s brains together were a force to be reckoned with.

And he knew, the surprisingly kind girl that clutched at him back, would keep his team together, would be the glue to keep their heads on while he took some time to watch his son.

“Thankyou,” He murmured into her hair, and she forced herself not to get weepy at the grief in his voice. Of all people here, she was the last person who should be allowed to cry. Least of all to him.

He pulled away from her eventually, cursing himself for letting the front slip, but it was as if she had that effect on everyone on the team, like she had this little way of worming her way between that gap in their chests where their hearts once were before they’d seen the things they had, dealt with the people they had.

It was for that reason Aaron knew they would be just fine.

“You know, when I was a kid, mom got letters every day from people with their own agendas against her,” Bugsy said once they’d taken a gulp of cool night air, “They all said the same thing; that they were going to take me for ransom unless she left the country. She didn’t think much of it until a guy started following the car home from school and she decided to get me trained in self defence,”

Hotch frowned, his chest tightening. He knew how it felt to be a parent on edge for his kid’s safety, but to hear it from the other side cut deeper.

“Which was fine, I got a pretty mean shot if I say so myself, but eventually it progressed into hostage training, in case…” She swallowed dryly, clearing her throat and picking her nails, “I wet the bed the first time they grabbed me, the whole idea was that I wouldn’t know it was coming. They let me go pretty fast, I don’t think they’d expected the eleven year old to reach for the kitchen knife,”

Hotch scoffed, shaking his head in horror, though he didn’t doubt her for a second.

“I slept with it next to my bed for a year, so that next time they came for me, they would think twice and let me sleep in,” She said with a thoughtful smile.

“And did it work?” He asked, watching her run her hands along the stone wall beneath his elbow.

“I dunno, but the one guy left pretty quick when I almost took his eye out,” She giggled, and the sound made him laugh quietly as well, “My point is, you’ve got nothing to worry about with Jack. Kids like us, we get made tougher, resilient. And with parents like you two, I’d say he had a pretty good head start.” Bugs said, smiling to herself flicking a glance up to his face that said just how touched he was. Deciding he was likely waiting for her to turn around before he let himself cry, she took a step back, heading towards the reception. “I mean look at me, I turned out alright!”

She barely heard his small chuckle that faded into a weep before she shut the door behind her, heading back over to the table where the team sat, Jack now with his auntie Jessica, and their eyes fell on her, waiting to hear whatever it was she had to say.

Taking a deep breath, she gave them an awkward smile, “Guess I’m joining the academy afterall,”

And that was all she got out before Garcia dived on her with an excited cuddle.

4. The one with his new hair

He knew he was sweeping his fingers through his hair much more often than usual, his hazel eyes flickering to his reflection in car doors in a way that was almost obsessive. He liked what his barber had done, but that wasn’t the point.

He was hoping she liked it.

Bugsy had passed the academy with flying colours, not that anyone had ever doubted her, and had been part of the team for all of two weeks, though he would argue she was BAU way before that. Hotch had figured out a staggered schedule where he could take care of Jack four days a week and work the rest until Jack settled back in at school.

It had been nearly five months since Haley had died, but it hadn’t gotten any easier for the boy.

Spencer definitely, definitely hadn’t spent the last two weeks practically breathing down her neck whenever they went out into the field, nor had he definitely not found himself fighting off the grin that threatened his composure when he caught her scribbling notes down to herself whilst Penelope presented the cases.

And he most definitely hadn’t gone out to get a new hair cut in the hopes she would find him more attractive.

Definitely not.

And yet, her face was the first one he found himself looking at as he stepped into the office, watching as it trailed up from her notebook, her pink gel pen paused mid sentence as the rest of the team went silent, her face spitting into a grin the minute she saw him.

“What, did you join a boyband?” Hotch asked in a rare moment of teasing, Derek snickering as Emily nudged his arm with her own chuckle.

“Can I be your groupie?” Bugsy asked, which made them laugh harder, though she stared at him with a small twinkle in her eye the way she always did when he squirmed under her compliments.

He hadn’t thought she was being mean, not even when they took a moment to settle down, not even when she smiled wryly at him, her eyes flicking up to his hair twice more before her attention was stolen back by Garcia switching the board.

“Okay, so what are we looking at here? Late twenties, early thirties?” Emily asked after they quietened, adjusting her bangs over her brows.

“All single, though two are in committed relationships,” Rossi added, flicking through his own pack of notes. “All living on their own,”

“Looks like normal suburban houses. Give the Unsub privacy,” Morgan added, his face scrunched in disgust as he looked at the crime scene photos.

“The differences are more striking than the similarities. Different hair colours, different body shapes.” Reid noted, Bugsy’s handwriting scrawling over her notebook as she tried to capture everything they were saying.

“What do we know about his MO?” Hotch asked JJ, the blonde woman shaking her head with a grimace.

“That’s why we were invited in, the abduction sites are pristine,” She said gravely, looking between her team as they seemed to balk at the information.

“No DNA besides the victims, and there’s no sign of forced entry or struggle,” Bugsy noted in the pack Garcia had given her that morning, along with a little pat to the head for good luck. Before now, in those two weeks, they had only dealt with one kidnapping and one group homicide that had turned out to be one very stupid teen spiking drinks at a pool party. This case would be the worst one she’d seen yet.

“And the victims aren’t reported until two or three days after they’re abducted,” Emily tailed off the end of her sister, her eyes serious as the team came to the same conclusion.

He had days to spend as much time with the bodies as he wanted.

“Two or three days? Women like this don’t just disappear without somebody noticing,” Rossi chimed in again, as JJ clicked onto the next screen handing the remote to Garcia.

“Yes, which is why I had Garcia dig into their lives a little,” She said, taking a seat next to Hotch to let penelope lead.

“And I took a look at their online activity, I could easily see what the Unsub was doing,” Penelope said, clicking onto a screen full of the women’s profiles.

Bugsy couldn’t even say she was shocked. Ever since she was in highschool, friendships, or her lack thereof, had been entirely decided on who had the most likes on their status update. Apparently no one found the girl who read Russian Literature for fun cool, nor did they want anything to do with her. Emily didn’t know she’d sat in the school toilets to eat her lunch for three years straight. Turns out kids from every country were bitches.

“Social Media profiles?” Her older sister asked, though the surprise was evident on her face atleast.

“Yeah, facebook, twitter, you name an online life-sharing time suck, these victims were on it,” Penelope said, enlarging the screen for the team to see the specifics, “And if you look at each of their last posts, they say kind of the same thing, ‘Going out of town, Going on a business trip, Going on vacation,’ but when you look at the time and date stamps on each of these, queue the twilight zone music because they were all posted the morning after each of them went missing,”

“The unsub posted them?” Hotch concluded, his natural frown deepening. This Unsub had a way to keep all of his victims hidden for much longer than they’d anticipated. Who knows what he could be doing as they spoke.

“You know, social networks are an easy way for an unsub to target his victims. These women were especially open, they posted everything from what they had for dinner to where they were going on dates,” Spencer said, looking at the print outs Pen had handed to them.

“The unsub ‘Friends’ his victim, and then uses it as a cover once he takes them,” Derek said, as Bugsy’s face scrunched in disagreement.

“What are you thinking, Kiddo?” Rossi asked from her left, as he head shot up to see the team watching her, waiting for her input.

Surprising to everyone, she was somewhat nervous when she’d started at the BAU. The Bugsy Prentiss, the woman who had caught out parts of the Russian Mob when she was just a college student, was nervous to not mess up in front of them.

“I understand what Derek’s saying, but nowadays you don’t actually have to be friends with someone to follow them.” She said, picking her fingertips in thought, “A lot of people have hundreds of total strangers they’ve never met on their page; some settings mean you don’t even need to be ‘friends’ in the first place to see what they're posting. The UnSub probably wouldn’t even bother implicating himself in the first place by following them, he could just access their profile and see what they're up to. I think he profiles as patient and organised, and somewhat tech savvy if he’s up to date on the way these medias work,”

The team watched her carefully, Spencer beating down the proud smile he wanted to flash her, knowing he needed to be focused on this case, but she seemed satisfied with her answer when Penelope nodded in agreement.

“So you don’t think he’s an old guy like me, is what you’re saying?” Derek asked with aghast, knowing full well mid thirties wasn’t too old. Hadn’t stopped his pride hurting.

She shook her head, “I just think he wouldn’t be as old as you. Mine and Reid’s age maybe. But he seems obsessive, and he also must have a job that affords him the spare time to spend the following few days with the bodies, but it means we should also assume that these women are likely already dead,”

She looked to Hotch hopefully, to see him staring at her unreadably for a moment, before he looked to Rossi with a nod.

David slapped her on the shoulder affectionately, “You just put together your first profile, kid,”

And before long, they were heading for the jet with her deductions in mind to hand over to the cops.

–

“Can someone explain to me the appeal of these sites? ‘Eating sushi tonight, yum!’ ‘Boss is keeping me late at work, grr,’” Rossi stared at the status updates, perplexed, as the team snickered to themselves.

“Now, wait a minute. How did you find my profile?” Bugsy asked jokingly, and she drew a fond smile from Aaron her way when Rossi chuckled to himself.

He wished she would stop looking so nervous to contribute. She fit right in with the furniture.

“Whose life is so important that we’d be interested in this kind of detail?” Rossi asked seriously, though Bugsy supposed even the coffee machine was a new useless piece of technology to the man who liked his espresso fresh.

“That’s just it, no one is. I guess everyone just wanted to believe it to themselves that they all have an audience out there waiting to hear every update of their day. Some of them even have GPS tracking systems in place to make it even easier for people to find out exactly where you are,” Bugsy said, her eyes flicking to Spencer who watched her intently, automatically floating up to take in his new hair again.

She couldn’t help think he had stopped looking cute, and started looking hot. He’d always been cute, god knows she’d always thought he was good looking. But now he looked… dreamy. It had made her double take the minute he’d walked through the door, hoping it wasn’t too obvious she was staring.

“That explains how he’s finding them, but it doesn’t tell us how he’s getting into their houses,” Hotch nodded along with her, eying her carefully as she looked through her own notes she’d made once she’d brought herself round to ripping her eyes off Reid.

“At the very least I believe he has copies of their keys,” Spencer said, his finger trailing the information in his file, “Doris Archer had a home security system installed, but the disable code was entered at 1:56am, so he knew that too. He also found a way to deal with her dog, a German Shepard she adopted from the pound last year, it went missing the night she did,”

“Did they find the dog?” Bugsy asked, her face in a frown as Emily looked up to her.

“Why? What are you thinking?” She asked her little sister who played with the ‘TRAINEE’ lanyard around her neck.

“If he hurt the dog, it likely meant the dog had been on alert to him as an intruder, since opportunistic violence isn’t in his profile of being collected and organised. So if he didn’t hurt the dog, and he was found alive and unharmed, it means the dog knew him,” Bugsy explained, and Derek stroked his face in thought.

“This guy’s gotta be in and out of the house well before the night of the disappearance. He comes up with some ruse, talks his way inside, and then once he’s familiar enough with the house he knows he can come back and kidnap them without disturbing anything,” He said, the girl nodding in agreement with him.

“Think of people you let into your home you don’t consider a threat. Home repair guys, dog walkers?” Rossi offered, but JJ was quick to flick to her own pack.

“Detective Fordham looked into that too. No one came even close to being a killer,” She shut down, not wanting to waste their time running through avenues that had already been explored.

“Alright,” Hotch started as he glanced at his watch to see they were landing in around ten minutes, “Morgan and Prentiss, start with the last abduction site, see if anything points to his MO.”

Bugsy raised her hand politely, as if she were still in class, and he nodded in her direction to speak, “Do you mean as in me when you say Prentiss or as in Emily when you say Prentiss?” She asked, and Emily seemed to be having the same issue as she flicked a glance between the two of them.

“I mean Emily, for you I guess I’ll have to say-” But he stopped himself with a frown. What would he say? Bugsy? No, too informal on a case. Baby Prentiss? Absolutely not. He thinks she might just hit him if he said her first name too much. “We’ll workshop it for now. Dave, you, Prentiss, Reid and JJ go back over the women’s lives. Start with asking around their friends on the sites. If this is how the Unsub is finding them, maybe they’re connected to him without even realising.”

The team was quiet for a moment, before Spencer pointed to Bugsy with his pen, “So that time you meant Bug, right?”

Dave wished he could protest but he had also been a bit confused, as Hotch rubbed his head tenderly.

He felt the headache coming already.

–

“What was it about these women that made him choose them as targets?” Bugsy asked as she and Spencer sat in a small room in the Boise precinct, the three victims' profile pictures staring back at them from the board.

It was their second day working on the case, and other than Garcia tracking a very disturbing snuff film of the last murder being streamed from the victim’s own IP address using camera’s he’d set up in the home, they had yet to have a big breakthrough. Hotch had told her to leave the room when they’d shown the footage, knowing it was one of her first weeks on the case, and despite having a strong stomach, he wanted her to ease into the role rather than drop her in the deep end head first.

Even seasoned agents like Morgan and Rossi had both winced, JJ even gagging as they watched it happen. They usually dealt with the aftermath, not have front row seats on the act itself.

She had been allowed in once the tape had finished, but Reid had immediately shuffled her into the small office they’d been permitted to use by the Boise police, his face a little more peaky than usual.

She wished he wouldn’t worry so much about her, wished he would hide it better when he fretted over her. She was sure he would burst a vessel if he kept flicking his head to look at her, though she just sat staring at the women as if the answer would jump out at her.

“They’re all pretty, aren’t they?” Bugsy said, swinging her legs beneath the table, her eyes roving over the three faces, “Though unconventionally, they’re still pretty.”

They weren’t his type, Spencer thought, they looked almost nothing like her. She had removed the last of the pink hair dye she’d managed to keep on top of for a year or so before she’d started at the university. Her nose piercing had progressed to a little thin silver hoop, though her earrings had been dialled down for safety reasons in the field, and she kept her hair tied back away from her face most days. She looked older, which was a dumb thing to think, since of course she was older. But she had grown into her face, and Spencer was entirely convinced she took after her father since the only thing she shared with Emily was the same pout when she thought too hard.

He’d watched her grow for all of three years into the twenty five year old that sat before him, and yet her face had never really changed shape. She still had those pretty eyes that seemed to glint up at him, those soft lips that pursed when she tried not to giggle at him, that perfect nose he would trace the edge of using just his gaze when she had come over to his apartment to study for the academy. She was still as beautiful as the day he’d met her, he thinks part of him had always thought of her in that way. He had just put it down to a pretty girl giving him attention. But girls gave him attention all the time, he had realised since that stakeout at the club, when he’d given her those napkin roses. He just didn’t care for them.

He only cared about what she thought of him.

Only cared what her face looked like-

“Wait,” He stopped his thoughts that could go on for days, weeks, about her. They already had, it was difficult to pull himself out of it sometimes. He stared at the photos of the victims, his mind revelling in her own face that he didn’t doubt had guys swooning and falling over their own feet, as he zeroed in on their eyes, cheekbones, septums, “Their faces are all an identical structure,”

“How did you figure that out?” She asked, wide eyed and he ripped down the photos before she could catch him blushing.

He thought he might take it to the grave what he’d been thinking about.

–

“He’s going live,” Hotch seethed, clicking a button on the remote and the whiteboard in the centre of the room lit up with video footage, a small red dot flashing slowly in the corner telling them they were watching it being streamed.

Bugsy stood behind Spencer, her eyes glued to the small computer at the desk that played the same screen, her heart rate spiking when she saw a small body camera pointing at a house, the UnSub cutting across a lawn in a near sprint.

He’d lost control completely, and he had another victim set in his sights.

“He’s not slow, deliberate. This guy’s pissed.” Rossi said, his jaw hung open in horror as the streamer headed straight for the front door.

“All right, what do we see? Determining markers?” Hotch snapped the groups focus back from the gut wrenching panic that everyone felt, and it was like a switch flipped.

“A one story cottage,” Spencer noted, his eyes glued to the screen so tight he missed the way Bugsy’s face changed colour, and she looked like she was swaying on her feet.

“That could be anywhere,” Detective Fordham commented back, his face grimacing.

“Is there a number on the house?” Morgan asked, and everyone leaned in closer to the footage.

“No, he’s already at the door,” JJ said, running a hand through her long blonde hair.

Bugsy thought she might be sick.

“Garcia,”

“He’s using twice as many proxy servers,” Her shaky voice came through the speaker, furious typing in the background.

“Wait, this window in the background, is that the chat room?” Emily asked, pointing to the small screen at the bottom that flooded with comments from at least forty different users, and more began entering the stream.

Get that bitch.

Show her a good time.

Teach the pigs a lesson for sticking their nose in.

Bugsy wished she hadn’t been so fast at reading, as she felt her skin go cold at the sight of the comments.

“People are getting off on it,” She said quietly, but no one heard her, too focused on finding out where the UnSub was.

“Uh Huh,” Garcia confirmed, as the footage flicked to show a kitchen view, a pretty fair haired woman stood chopping peppers none the wiser to the sick people watching her life before it was about to be ended.

“He’s in the house, guys,” Reid ran clammy hands over his trousers, his stomach churning as the video went on.

“He’s completely changed his MO,” Derek added, and the team could do nothing but watch in terror, “There’s too much light, what happened?”

“Someone asked the wrong question at the press conference,” JJ explained from beside Reid, her nails bitten to hell.

“Oh my god, turn around. Just turn around,” Emily begged, and part of her little sister thought she might have been talking about her.

“Maybe she can fend him off,” Derek said, though even his tone of voice wasn’t convinced.

“New kitchen appliances, maybe we could check the work order?” Spencer was grasping at straws he knew that, but he couldn’t sit back with that big brain of his working overtime and not try to help at all.

“He’ll be gone by then,” Rossi said, and he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Garcia, can you give me anything?” Hotch asked, and the sound of typing got even faster if that was possible.

“I’m stateside now, I’m almost to Idaho, I just need more time,” but Garcia was cut of by the man in the video lurching at the innocent woman, his hands wrapping around her neck with a venomous grip, her every moment of pain and terror captured on his body cam for his audience to see.

His audience including the team.

Bug felt the bile rise then, felt her eyes burn as she watched the woman’s face freeze in fear, a yelp of “No!” leaving her oesophagus, her small hands coming up to his wrists to try pry him away from her, anything to gasp for another breath of air.

She wasn’t listening as Hotch barked orders at Garcia, her eyes were stuck on the woman that writhed in pain, pleading with the masked man to spare her. But her rebuttals got weaker, her whimpers began to grow quieter, and soon he’d tackled her to the ground in a blood curdling scream, his whole body weight crushing her throat.

Her own hand came up to cover her mouth that dropped open in shock, her eyes burning with tears that she couldn't let fall. It was this woman who was suffering, not her.

There was a bit more struggling from the woman, her eyes bulging from her skull, lips turning blue, until she slumped beneath his hands, and he released her.

She took a step back, bumping into a chair she hadn’t even known was there as her eyes fixed to the screen, and Spencer’s head shot around to see her shaking on the spot, her eyes haunted.

Emily followed suit, but Spencer was already out of his seat, rushing forward to grab her arms and lead her outside.

“I’m gonna get her some air,” He called behind him to the team that watched her go with forlorn glances, and he hated how he felt her trembling beneath his grip, grabbing onto his jacket just as tight.

They made it halfway down the stairs before she bolted for the bathroom, and he heard her retching as he dipped into the room after her, not caring that the sign clearly stated it was for women.

“I’m fine, Em, just give me a minute,” She said, and he heard the sniffles between her words.

“It’s me,” He said, finding the one stall on the end that had it’s door engaged, pulling a cup from out of the dispenser and filling it at the water fountain, “You should drink some water, the cold helps reset your body’s instinct to fight or flight,”

“Or in my case, make a complete fool of myself and take time away from a time sensitive investigation because I’m such a wuss,” She said cynically, coughing chestily and he heard the toilet flush.

His forehead creased as he frowned. The door unlocked and she stepped out, her eyes red and teary as she gently took the water from his hands, and he rooted around his pocket for a stick of gum to give her. She chucked it in her mouth, letting the peppermint clear the vile taste from her mouth, hoping she didn’t look too gross.

“You shouldn’t stand so close to me, toilet bowls are like full of germs and my heads just been in there, I know it makes you feel funny to be around germs-” He pushed her hair behind her ear as if to tell her to stop thinking so loud, and she couldn’t help smile sheepishly at him. “Do you think Hotch will be mad?”

He shook his head instantly.

“Mad? No. Worried? Incredibly.” Spencer replied, stroking her hair a little the way his mom used to when he felt sick.

Bugsy shook her head, sniffing to herself a little more.

She couldn’t stop seeing that woman’s face as the life slipped from her, the hands around her neck. The yelps and pleads and begs and she fought with everything in her.

“How long was it until you started feeling like this?” She asked earnestly, running a sleeve under her nose, “You’re so brave, I always knew you were but, since I started, it’s like I realised nothing really touches any of you anymore.”

He fought the incredulous laugh, him; brave? The man scared of the dark and elevators brave?

“We all take things home with us at the end of the day,” He said, wiping under her eyes for her with his own cardigan cuff, “If you didn’t feel anything for the victims we help, you wouldn’t be human, Bug,”

She nodded, “I know. I just don’t want to let anyone down. Not you guys and especially not the people we’re helping,”

“It’s for that reason I know you’re going to do great,” He said, giving her one of those small Spencer smiles he reserved for when he wanted to see one of hers.

Her forehead thumped onto his chest as he pulled her a little closer, and his cheek fell on top of her hair as he ran gentle hands over the sides of her arms, calming her until her breath started evening out.

“You never said,” She pointed out, “How long it took for you to start getting cold feet. Bet I beat some kind of record, two weeks is absolute dog shit,” She chuckled to herself, not noticing how his face evened out in sadness.

It was Tobias Hankel that had done it. It was getting tied up and injected that had made him feel like a failure, like he wasn’t cut out for anything let alone the force. Like his life was taking a huge spiral downwards.

But he wouldn’t tell her that, not yet at least.

“Come on, let’s get you back,” He brushed off, and she figured it was a sore spot for him. She cursed herself for asking in the first place.

Nodding, she downed the rest of the water and got herself a refill, following him out of the bathroom, looking back up at him for a moment.

“I forgot to say,” Bug said, nudging against his side with her whole body, knocking into him lovingly, “Your new hair is very… dashing. I really like it.”

He swore his face went crimson in a single second.

5. The one with his migraines

“Let me pay for your fuel at least,”

“Spence, just shut up and get in the car,”

That was around about how the past eight months had gone. Every day, she would drive by his apartment, Emily in the passenger seat of her little sisters beat up Renault Zoe, affectionately named after its model, the back seat reserved for Spencer’s lanky legs and satchel bag as she drove the three of them through through roads of Virginia, to work and back again.

Sometimes he surprised her with coffee, sometimes Emily brought them donuts. Either way, they all enjoyed their morning routine that had stood the test of time about as much as Bugsy had as part of the BAU.

It had gotten easier after that first case; she still had her moments, but her skin had thickened to a point she barely remembered what her life had been like before that day Hotch asked her to join the academy.

Things were going well, she felt settled, even with the new girl Seaver replacing JJ while Jareau was away on business in the pentagon. She couldn’t say she was the girl’s best friend, but they got along. And that was good enough for her. Her team was a well oiled machine.

That was, except for Spencer. Spencer she worried for every day.

She hated the way he twitched in the passenger seat, now his since she’d forced Emily to get the subway to work today, bitching eachother out in the way sisters did until the older woman left in a huff but without asking questions, and she left to take Spencer to the hospital.

The sunglasses did little to stop his eyes hurting, his brain quite literally feeling as though it was pressing against his skull. He even turned down coffee this morning, and her stomach had dropped when she realised just how serious it was.

He didn’t even question her when she held his hand tightly in hers as she walked him into the office, knowing he would hate every second of having this MRI done.

“Everything’s going to be absolutely fine, they’re going to find what it is and we’re going to get you fixed right up to your perky self again,” She said, as they sat together outside the doctor’s office, keeping her voice calm and quiet as not to upset his delicate head even more.

He nodded, appreciating her gentle touches on his hand, and he jumped in his seat when the door opened, his name being called through and he wished she could come with him.

“You got this,” Bugsy smiled at him reassuringly when he looked hesitant, and nodded again, squeezing her hand once before he let go, following the nurse into the MRI room, wondering how he got so lucky to have a best friend like her.

–

Spencer sighed, leaning back in his seat. The flight had not helped the building pressure in his head in the slightest. He looked up to the ceiling, closing his eyes as the harsh office lights beat against his face mercilessly.

Two bodies found sacrificed to a 'higher being', their tongues and fingers cut off, shells put over their eyes and mouths. They had seen worse, perhaps not as odd, but they had seen worse. And yet this was the case that made him feel like his brain was about to explode right out his ears.

He hadn’t felt like this since he had been on Dilaudid, since he’d be on a come down and his whole body would sweat cold, and his head would rattle with every movement. And even that almost paled in comparison to how bad his head hurt right now.

Spencer had wondered if that was what had done this to him, if it was a long term side effect of its use. He knew it wouldn’t be, but the self punishing part of him couldn’t help but fill his head with it.

He just wanted answers. He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to crawl into bed with an ice pack over his face and never surface again until this thing had subsided.

Spencer felt hands in his hairline, fingernails weaving and massaging until he almost moaned, the touches releasing some of the metaphorical knots like magic at their fingertips, and he knew who it was, because that was how she always made him feel.

He opened his eyes to see her very upside down as she looked down at him, their eyes inline with one another as she continued running her fingers against his temples gently.

“You okay, handsome?” That was somewhat new, not that he was complaining. Part of him said she just felt bad for him and his weird brain, and maybe that was how it had always been, but ever since he had started getting these migraines she was impossibly even softer with him now. Like she was his comfort blanket he cuddled to when he was feeling particularly sorry for himself, and she knew it too. They were rarely not stuck together like velcro, where he moved, she moved. Where he sat, she was pressed against him like the concept of personal space had never been such a huge deal for him.

And when his pain struck him down into the embodiment of a wounded doe, she was right there fluffing his pillows, grabbing him aspirin, massaging his head like she could grab the bastard migraine right out of his skull and say leave my precious boy alone.

She was too sweet on him recently, but then he never wanted it to stop. It felt like a relationship without the kissing and especially without the sex. The thought of it made him want to moan again.

“This one’s a stubborn one,” It had lingered around for three days straight, and the Miami heat wasn’t helping as he looked up at her inverted face, and he could tell she was smiling gently at him.

She ran her thumbs over his eyebrows, smoothing them out and he sighed in delight as he felt the muscle begin to relax beneath her touch.

“You make things better,” He confessed, her fingers tracing down his pretty nose, and he closed his eyes as she went over the bags beneath them. “You always do,”

He felt her kiss his forehead for good luck, and he knew she hated seeing him in so much pain. He could have whined when she pulled away, letting go of him gently as Rossi stepped into the room, hoping he hadn’t seen the affection before too much teasing could come.

But he said nothing, even if he had seen, just raised his eyebrows and grabbed the file off the desk for his own thorough look through.

He sure as hell missed the way she interlaced their fingers under the desk though.

–

Spencer twisted the bracelet around his wrist as they sat together outside the doctor's office. Orula’s ide. That was what Julio had called it. Said it would protect him from the bad spirits that clouded his head.

Spencer was a man of science, a man of logic. But even he couldn’t quite explain how Julio had managed to figure out he was having migraines despite him not letting any infliction of pain cross his face, even more confused when Julio had said his body had been a conduit for a higher spirit who wanted to help him.

He was glad to be back in Virginia where everything made sense to him. Where she could hold onto his knee at the doctor's office to stop it from bouncing and his team couldn’t tease or ask him what was wrong or make her stop touching him so much.

“I say we get some ice on your head and put on whichever Doctor Who episode you want, don’t even care if we’ve seen it before,” She offered, smiling over at him and hoping he couldn’t see the worry in her eyes.

He could. He just nudged her shoulder with his forehead to say thankyou without ruining the solace the quiet brought him.

That is until his name was called, just as it was the last time he was here, and he stood to enter the office, not letting go of her hand as this time he’d made sure she could come.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” He said as he sat on the bed, his doctor showing him the clear brain scans that hadn’t flagged a single neuron out of place.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” His doctor replied, watching the way his female accomplice frowned, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Isn't there any tests that would look for a specific prognosis we could try?” She asked, and the man shook his head.

“Not unless we’ve ruled out every other option, and in this case I’d like to suggest that Dr. Reid’s condition might be psychosomatic in nature,” The doctor explained, wary of the way the two agents screwed their expressions up, almost identically, hearing his explanation of Spencer’s headaches.

“Psychosomatic…” Spencer echoed softly, in near disbelief.

That couldn’t be it. It had to be the Dilauded. Or a tumour. Or a long standing concussion. Something physical and tangible he could point out and get fixed.

“It just means a mental or emotional cause-” The doctor explained, only to have Spencer cut him off.

“No I know what ‘psychosomatic’ means Doctor, but it's not that,” He said, his voice tired; the idea he was making up his problem in his own head bothered him.

“Well, I think it’s something we should consider.”

“Listen, I’m not crazy,” Spencer insisted, and he felt her tugging his hand closer to hers, her own way of comforting him when she couldn’t grab at his hair or face or jaw.

“Dr Reid, I’m not saying-” But he was stopped by Spencer’s voice that was slowly growing more irate.

“No, listen, I have headaches. I have increased sensitivity to light, because there’s something wrong with me physically. Not mentally. It’s not that,” He corrected the doctor, his sweet face pulled into a grumpy pout, almost offended that the professional was willing to write his pain off as a hallucinations.

“That?” The doctor asked, a frown on his face as Spencer continued.

“Listen, doctor, my mother’s a paranoid schizophrenic who’s been institutionalised. So I know very well what mental illness looks like, maybe even better than you. It’s not that, it’s not.” Spencer said in a huff, standing from the bed and grabbing his satchel, all but pulling her from the room as she sped walked after him, her hand still tightly in his.

She was gobsmacked. She didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it before, and suddenly every single instance of her whining about her mother to him entered her head and she felt a pit growing in her stomach that only had room for guilt.

They sat in the car in silence, her hands at ten and two as she tried not to stare at him.

She couldn’t stand the quiet in which he stewed, murmuring to himself every now and then about how that most certainly wasn’t what was causing his state to decline.

“You never told me that before,” She said after a while, and it was quiet, whether to satiate his headache or because she didn’t know if she was allowed to say it he wasn’t sure.

“It never came up,” He said in a way that left little question. He didn’t want to talk about it.

They sat in the quiet some more, the only sound being the way her engine hummed beneath the bonnet, the music turned low for his pounding head, and he saw the way she chewed her lip and flicked glances at him from the driver's side.

He sighed, not wanting to snap at her the way he had the doctor, “Bug, would you please stop looking at me like that, like you pity me-”

“No, it’s not that it's…” She started carefully, her gaze flicking ot him for a moment as they stopped at a red light, “Every time I forget you’re the strongest person I know, you just seem to remind me,”

And just like that his heart swelled all over again, and he felt like maybe his head wasn't an entire failure to him.

+1 The one with the eulogy.

This was hell on earth.

She sat around the table at the funeral home with her mother to her left, her father and Stephanie to her right.

She could feel the team’s eyes on her; she hadn’t spoken in days, her face shallow and off colour, sick looking. Speaking to her mother and father was difficult for her on a good day, let alone when she was all alone.

Because that was how she looked, as if she were half a person now, her face bitter and angry as she tried to take up the least amount of space at the table as possible, her mother inspecting her finger beds as if they’d scorned her.

“Sit up straight,” She chided, nudging her daughter's knee, but Bugsy made no move to adjust her posture. She just stared blankly at the ugly floral tablecloth, waiting for the other mourners to arrive, to give their sorrows, before they could move to the church.

Emily was right next door. Cold. In a box. Her entire body was likely in rigour mortis now, her face was probably white as snow with the blood pooling away - pallor mortis Reid had called it - her hands were probably twisted and ugly like a raven's foot-

She couldn’t keep doing this to herself. And yet the thoughts wouldn’t stop, not even as Stephanie, step mother from heaven as she was, began to chime in to try lighten the mood.

Her dad hadn’t said a word to her yet, just patted her on the head the way he hadn’t done since she was five.

“It’s a lovely day for a funeral, don’t you think?” She commented, but her voice was too sweet, too soft, too normal to have the charm she’d intended.

Stephanie wasn’t a bad person. Not evil or horrible like Bugsy had always thought a step mother would be. But she was the person her father had left little Bugsy for, and though she knew almost all of her anger had been displaced onto the poor woman when he’d told her he had a new wife, Stephanie had never exactly bothered to remedy their relationship.

Emily and Bugsy had been someone else’s kids. Had been Richard Prentiss’ problems, not hers. And no amount of kindness she bothered to overcompensate with today would change the past twenty years her father had been too preoccupied to even call for her birthdays.

Bugsy scoffed, ignoring the warning look from her father. He knew very well how his youngest felt about his wife.

“Mr and Mrs Prentiss,” Hotch came over, as if sensing the girl’s annoyance at the woman’s words, and she mentally could have planted a kiss right on Aaron’s lips when he made the effort to exclude Stephanie in his condolences, “I’m so sorry for your loss. Losing a child is a devastation I never would wish on anyone,”

“Thank you for your kind words, Mr Hotchner,” The step mother piped up again, before either of them could say anything, and Bugsy shot her a look so full of hatred, Aaron thought she might have slapped her right then and there.

Richard cleared his throat, moving to put an arm around Steph’s chair, one that she’d pulled up to the table herself.

If there was one thing Elizabeth and Bugsy would ever agree on it was that Stephanie was intolerable.

Her mother looked empty as she nodded at Hotch, crossing her legs properly and pursing her lip, not saying anything. She’d never seen her mother cry, and she doubted that would start today. Elizabeth was much too of a proud woman to weep in front of the masses.

“Thanks, Hotch,” Bugsy said the first words she had in days, the only time she’d gotten out of bed was to feel Niko and Sergio or to use the bathroom. Her voice was raspy, ghost like, and it scared the crap out of him.

He couldn’t see her getting through this alive.

With Haley, he’d had Jack to get him through it, keep him going, if not to put on a front for his little boy that was the spitting image of his wife. But Bug had nothing left of her sister, nothing but herself and two parents that couldn’t stand to look at one another without screaming curses.

The other’s had already given their condolences, had already bombarded her with enough letters, flowers, stuffed teddies to fill a house, and she knew she wasn’t being fair ignoring them when they were grieving too. If not just as much as she was.

But she couldn’t do anything, couldn’t be anything except this shell of a woman once called Bugsy. Her sister gave her that name, she didn’t think she deserved it anymore.

Spencer just wished she would cry. He had been sobbing non stop, even where his eyes were puffy and red as Garcia’s as they stood in the funeral home, the smell of incense too strong, the sounds of wails too loud. But she looked… he hated to say it, she looked dead.

“That poor little lamb,” Penelope sniffled, tears already streaking down her cheeks as Derek tucked her under his arm, pulling her close into his smart black suit, “I wished she would let us in,”

“That girl is a carbon copy of Emily, of course she’s going to take herself off to lick her wounds,” Rossi said, his own fancy blazer stuffed with tissues in case his dark eyes welled up with tears again. He’d already managed to save himself once this morning before leaving the house, but he didn’t trust himself anymore than that.

Spencer missed her smile more than anything, though he himself was struggling to muster anything past a grimace.

“The Spring flowers are all in bloom, isn’t that lovely?” Stephanie continued, an easy grin on her face as she looked out of the window to the graveyard, as if she was entirely unaware of the grief lingering in the room, “I think she'll like it here,”

That was it.

That was what pushed Bugsy over the edge, even Elizabeth broke her cold facade to look at the other women in shock, her daughter’s eye twitching as her head snapped to Stephanie, a rage encompassing her entire face.

“What the fuck would you know what she liked or didn’t like, Stephanie? She barely even fucking liked you,” Bugsy hissed, drawing the attention of a few of the mourners with her vitriol anger.

That wiped the smile off the woman’s face harder than any slap could have.

“You watch your mouth, young lady,” Richard snapped, his face a blazen rage as Stephanie cowered behind him.

Bugsy scoffed, and Hotch knew by the sound of it alone, something had been lit inside her that was about to go off like a hand grenade.

He couldn’t say he blamed her.

“I don’t know why you even bothered showing up, Dad. You’ve not seen either one of us since Emily left college,” She spat back, her eyes wild like a cat ready to claw its way out of a fight, “Surprised you even remember my name now you have your shiny new family and your million honeymoons to keep you busy,”

Richard stood from his chair, his black three piece creasing as he pointed in her face, his hand shaking with rage, and she saw the tears well in his eyes that looked too much like her own for her comfort.

“You are turning out to be just like your mother, pushing away anyone who ever cared about you.” He barked, not caring that a few mourners turned to look at him in shock, “Don’t come crying back to me when you end up alone, little lady,”

And with that he took Stephanie’s hand, who was the patron saint of guilt as of now, a face like a scolded child, too naive for the grown woman she really as. At least she had finally shut up, Bugsy thought darkly as her father stormed out of the home, ignoring the way faces watched hers carefully, knowing every word he’d said had been true.

She thinks for a minute if Emily was here she’d poke fun at the way Steph’s face had been hilarious when her smile had dropped, or that her dad still had the worst temper out of them all, Bug included. She thinks that if Emily were here, she’d tell her he’d said all that stuff out of anger, and that she won’t end up alone, and that she’d always be with her.

She thinks that if Emily were here, she wouldn’t feel the empty nothingness where shame and sadness would be after having that entire thing play out infront of so many onlookers.

But Emily wasn’t there. And she couldn’t even say she was shocked when her mother stood from her seat besides her too.

“Where are you going?” Bugsy snarled, the Ambassador looking somewhat concerned before the expression fell and she went back to an equally lost look of her own.

“I refuse to be made a spectacle of today,” Elizabeth said detachedly, collecting her purse over her black midi dress, her painted nails skimming the handle gently, “I can say my own goodbyes to your sister later, when everyone has left,”

Coward. Coward. Coward. Bugsy wanted to scream after her, wanted to tear her hair out, wanted to grab the two of them by the neck and make them feel the way her words trapped inside her and clawed at her throat, sitting inside like a moth bouncing against a window trying to escape.

But she said nothing. Did nothing, as her mother left the home, left her sitting there alone, until the officiant came over to her not even a moment’s later and told her it was time to start the funeral.

And then she truly felt as if she would never be whole again.

–

Her hands shook as she got to the podium. She’d always hated public speaking, which Spencer thought was odd since she seemed to grab the attention of every room she walked into like it was second nature. She didn’t even bat an eyelid at chasing down a criminal or being shot at or evening chewing out a detective that wasn’t pulling his weight, but speaking to a handful of decorated officers that watched her with grieving eyes was too much.

Adjusting the mic to a more appropriate height, they watched her eyes scan the room, her brows scrunched, her mouth dry. Trying to find Emily, Hotch realised with a crack in his chest. The way she always did when she was nervous. The way she did when she was looking for Emily to come save her.

“H-hi, um,” Her voice shook, her fingers fiddling with the chord for something to do, “Mom- Ambassador Prentiss got called out on business so I guess I’ll be giving the eulogy,”

No one spoke, not even the ones who knew it was a lie, her eyes falling to where Spencer gave her a sad smile, some sort of encouragement for her to keep going, though his eyes were red and bloodshot, and he was sure the burn in his throat was rising again.

She hadn’t cried yet. Penelope had cried four times today alone.

“I- um, I wasn’t really prepared for a speech, so I’m, um, I’m just going to read the letter I wrote to her if that’s okay?” Her head shot to the priest who had handed the spotlight over to her, the warm spring breeze pulling at his robes as he nodded, his hand gesturing for her to continue.

She cleared her throat, tearing the envelope open, and the paper rattled in her fingertips with her shaking hands as she pulled out the double sided A4 that had been written on in neat blue ink.

Unfolding it, she let her gaze rip off the crowd of people who stared at her, waiting for whatever it was she had to say, the final words her sister’s body would hear before she was put in the ground forever. The last goodbye. The only one that had ever mattered.

“Dear Emily,” Bugsy read, her voice finding footing as she was able to look away from the hundreds of eyes that watched her tearfully. But it was the wrong move. Because the minute she’d prepared herself to say the words out loud she felt her eyes well up.

This was it. The last chance she would ever get to tell Emily how she felt. How sorry she was. How she was so damn sorry for being such a shitty person for so many years, for never saying thank you enough, for never hugging her when she really ought to have, for never appreciating how lucky she was to have a sister like her.

Her throat clogged, and she sucked in a deep breath, releasing a trembling sigh. Her bottom lip quivered.

“Sorry-” She apologised to the watchers, rubbing her mouth nervously, hoping no one could see just how deeply she had broken, just how harsh the wound had gaped open, “Dear Emily,” She started again;

“Everyone thinks they know what a sister is; it's the woman you share fifty percent of your DNA with who you’re put on this earth to annoy the shit out of,” A small wet laugh reverberated around the crowd, and she flashed a small smile at her own words. “But the truth is you can actually share up to sixty-one percent of your genes with one of your siblings. Which is crazy to me, because I know no matter how hard I try, I will never be even one percent of the woman you are,”

She swallowed heavily, and she heard Penny burst out crying again, her head buried in Morgan’s neck.

“If I was as gracious as you, I’d probably say you’re in a better place now, and if I was as brave, we probably wouldn’t even be here, because I would have been able to save you that day instead of just watching like a fly on the wall.” The first tear fell then, her face crumpling in pain. “If I was as considerate as you, I would be able to look every one of your friends in the eyes and tell them it would all be okay in the end. And if I was even the tiniest bit as kind as you, then I would have told you all of this to your face when it actually mattered.”

She sniffed heavily, and Derek did the same, his own throat burning, picking the thread on his nice trousers as Penelope’s tears wet his shirt through.

“Everyone thinks that true love is finding someone you want to marry and have children with, but I know now that’s not the entirety of it. Love is a person you want to spend every day making happy, and make them proud to say they love you too.” Her chin wobbled some more as she read the next few sentences with something darker than remorse in her glassy eyes, “I sometimes think, if we were given a second chance, if we could try again, I would be able to tell you that I truly love you, Emily, and that you’re the only person I ever cared about loving me too,”

Her voice cracked, and she regarded the paper with misty eyes, her cheeks soaked as she quickly wiped them with the back of her white, lace gloves.

“I think maybe next time I wouldn’t be so spoiled and bratty, and you could have been more relaxed and maybe less like my mom at times, but I think if we could do it over, we could have done it right, the way sisters are supposed to,” She sniffed, missing the way Spencer’s face dripped with tears of his own, her words tearing him inside and out with the guilt in every line. “But I guess it’s too late for that now. I only got one chance to be your sister and I failed, no matter how many times you pulled through for me. And that’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay.”

She braved a look at the closed casket, imagining her big sister, the only person she ever truly loved laying in there with fair, snow skin, her noir hair sitting perfectly like a princess in the fairytales she used to read to her before bed. Only this one had no happy ending. This one ended with her heart torn from her chest, bleeding for the rest of her days until her own body was buried and everyone could mourn the girl who was barely half the woman her sister was, no matter what the statistics say.

“I’m sorry, Emily” It was the first time she’d said the two words that had been playing in her head on a loop for weeks, the two words that sang to her like a mantra, every morning, noon and evening. Even in her sleep she had dreams where she could do nothing but scream into a void of darkness, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It should have been me, I’m sorry. “I hope you can forgive me,” She whimpered through a sob, ignoring the way her cheeks gushed with fat tears now, as she wept freely at the podium, her hands no longer shaking.

“Lots of love, your shitty baby sister, Bugsy.” She finished with a small whine, her expression broken as she folded the letter back up and placed it in the envelope, the cursive lettering of her big sister’s name staring back at her. Finishing where she’d started.

Tucking the letter underneath a tulip wreath atop the coffin, she stepped back down off the podium, ignoring the way the eyes followed her back to her seat, ignoring the way Derek rubbed her shoulder affectionately, or the way JJ handed her a packet of tissues, even though her own face was flooded, and showed no signs of stopping. She felt Spencer grab her hand in his delicately, entwining their fingers together, and squeezing lightly.

The priest continued with a hymn, though she didn’t bother singing it. She just stared at her shoes, as if her entire soul had been sucked from her the minute she’d ended the eulogy.

Which it had, because that had been Emily’s last goodbye.

She didn’t speak in the car on the way back to Spencer’s, not as Hotch pulled her in for a wide hug, rare and warm, even going so far as to stroke the back of her head with more affection than they’d ever seen him give her.

“Call me if you need anything,” He’d murmured into the side of her head as he held her close, feeling two hands hesitantly wrap around his waist, as if she wasn’t entirely switched on which, going by the vacant look on her face she wasn’t.

Spencer made her tea the moment they got in. She didn’t ask for it, she just sat on the sofa and stared at the beat up, old TV he kept only for the occasional documentary, and for the shows she liked to watch too of course. But she hadn’t even switched it on, just stared at the inky black glass like it would jump to life itself and tell her how to feel.

He took a seat next to her, on the other end of the couch, flicking the screen on for something to stop it from being so silent in his home; the silence meant they were alone with their thoughts, and for once he and his thoughts couldn’t stand being together. He didn’t want to interrupt her, or be the first to break the quiet. Not even when he watched her tea go cold in front of her, or as she barely acknowledged the cartoon on the TV, or when he pulled out his copy of The Brothers Karamazov that he’d been re-reading for the third time.

“Would you like me to read to you? Would that be better?” He asked tentatively, and she didn’t even blink, as if she were some sort of zombie or corpse sitting next to him programmed for instruction on acting human.

She said nothing, but she did move, the act of it making him jump slightly, and it was then he realised she had been perfectly still for the past half an hour, barely even showing signs of breath. A puppet with no master.

She leaned over, her body dropping onto the sofa softly as if she was taking a nap, only for her head to rest on his thigh, and his hand flew to pull the claw clip out of her hair like he read her mind. Her knees nestled to her chest, in foetal position, her pretty black dress, the same one she’d worn for Haley’s funeral riding up past her knees.

He gently tucked his long fingers into her roots, stroking her hair like she were a tame cat curled in his lap, clearing his voice as he continued where he’d left off, making sure he wasn’t reading too fast the way he would if it was just him.

His head still whirled around the eulogy she’d read. How watching her crack beneath the weight of her own words had hurt him more than his own grief, had made him bury whatever it was he felt and just need to put her back together again.

Because he didn’t need an eidetic memory to have ingrained what she’d said into his head, not even as they went to bed, and she burrowed into his side in one of his sweatshirts he usually saved for his own bad days.

“Bug,” He braved to say, watching her eyes force themselves open from where they were on the very lip of sleeping, “You’re my very best friend, did you know that?”

She hummed, her nose digging into his arm that he wound under her head, pulling her close enough he could feel her heartbeat against his own where she was in the crook of his neck.

“I love you,” She said, like those three words didn’t rip the air from his lungs.

Not even as her breathing finally evened out, and he felt himself heave a sigh of relief; the bags under her eyes had been more noticeable today than ever. Not even when he dared a kiss to her forehead as she slept, the smell of her shampoo completely taking over his pillow as he allowed his own heart to hurt for just a few moments, missing his friend dearly as he looked after the woman.

Love is a person you want to spend every day making them happy, and make them proud to say they love you too.

He knew then.

–

TAGLIST

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions@the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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satorhime · 11 months

Text

. ･｡･ right where you left me ࿐gojo satoru.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : angst, fluff, dad!gojo (reader ‘n’ gojo have a daughter), set in 2018 and 2023, reunion, beach trips, established relationship ! f!reader. ･｡･ w.c. 3.7k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis : time remains the one enemy gojo can’t defeat. ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: ik there’s a gazillion reunion fics but this has been sitting in my drafts since oct n i suddenly felt like finishing n sharing so i hope u enjoy <333 ‘m gna go cry over this fic now ;u;

satoru is having a damn good day.

it’s suspicious, it feels like a fever dream, and he can’t really pinpoint where the dubiousness comes from. maybe it’s because he feels as if he doesn’t deserve it, like if he allows himself to relax like this something terrible will happen while he slacks off. or maybe, it’s because he’s only ever had those truly good days in his youth when he was devil may care and his concerns for the wellbeing of the world slid off his shoulders weightlessly, like sheets of rain on a rooftop. a wild and selfish kind of happiness that begun in spring and ended too quickly in winter.

but today is a good day. he forgot to charge his phone last night, he is in the best mood he’s been in all year, and he can’t stop fucking smiling. gojo satoru is thriving, on top of the world, a little bit of that nostalgic, adolescent joy warming up his chest.

and it’s all because it’s a sunny day, the water is cool, and he’s on the beach with you and his baby girl.

the three of you decided to steal away on a spontaneous trip to okinawa that forced him out of his work uniform and into swim trunks with a bare chest, simply because you burst into his office with big droplets of tears in your eyes declaring yourself a terrible mother because you realized that your daughter was already three years old and she had never seen the ocean before.

it had taken him ten minutes to book three first class tickets and secure the private family villa for the weekend, fifteen to get packed, and twenty to board after hearing that.

he would do anything to please his girls, after all.

“‘anna go into the bathtub, mama!” your baby whines impatiently from the embrace of your arms, squirming and squiggling for you to let her down as she points towards the rolling ocean waves behind you. ever since she learned how to walk, she’s lost all patience for her doting parents carrying her around— especially when something catches the attention of those big, pretty blue eyes. it didn’t take long for her to become enamored with the sea, wanting nothing more than to get out of your hold and toddle towards the shallows.

“it’s called an ‘ocean’, cupcake,” you correct her, voice full of amusement and affection as you crane your head forward to kiss the soft skin of her chubby cheek, bouncing the toddler in your arms. “too bad we’re being held hostage by dada right now.”

“i heard that,” satoru mumbles with a pout, his third melon popsicle of the day hanging from one side of his mouth. droplets of green slush drips onto the broad planes of his chest in a sticky mess as it melts but he’s wholly focused on the two of you, one summer blue eye winked closed as the other peers through the lens of the polaroid camera looped around his neck. “but wait, just one more photo of my two favorite girls!”

“you’ve been taking photos for the last twenty minutes, satoru,” you huff. “we aren’t going anywhere, you know. you don’t have to take so many.”

“our baby needs to see what the three of us looked like in our prime, before we grow old and gray together.”

“you’re so ridiculous, gojo satoru.”

but despite your exasperation, you remain put. it’s hard not to feel the same way he does on a perfect day like this— contentment, light in the heart and full of love because of this little trip. the camera focuses in on you and your daughter before the shutter clicks, each snap immortalizing the sight of you and your baby girl illuminated by the lazy autumn sun.

“and done!” he cheers, catching the polaroid in his palm as it slides from the slot. it wobbles between two of his fingers as it develops, but he can already see that it’s a perfect picture. he feels his heart sink in his chest, melting into a syrupy sweet puddle of happiness that makes him lightheaded and anxious.

oh, you’ve never looked as pretty as you do right now. like a dream, a forever kind of love he never plans to let go of. wearing that cute little swimsuit he likes so much with his sunnies perched on top of your head and his baby propped up on your supple hip. the two of you are beaming, cheeks squished together, your daughter’s hand cupping your face fondly.

it’s the kind of picture that others would coo at and fawn over if he framed it in a museum, but satoru retrieves his wallet from the pocket of his swim trunks, tucking the polaroid safely in the trifold for his own selfish keeping.

“i think she really likes the beach,” you tell him, squatting to set your daughter on her feet. she waves to you and satoru before waddling toward the shallow surf, her little legs stumbling in the thick body of sand. “this was good of you, satoru.”

“what? you think i’d miss the opportunity to spend time with my best girls?” he asks you, a hand on his chest with an affronted look on his face. you resist the urge to snort as the two of you follow closely behind your stumbling toddler, rushing towards her every time she gets distracted and attempts to eat the sand or chase one of the seagulls.

“you’ve been busy lately, that’s all,” is how you respond, the accusation washed out of your tone for the gentle words instead. you don’t bring up how many milestones, how many little memories he’s already missed, just by being who he is— that no matter what, he’ll always belong to his duty first and his family second. no, you’ve always shown patience and understanding. never complaining when his side of the bed is empty before morning or your girl requests for her father to read a bedtime story in that animated, comical way you can never replicate for her. making her settle for your offkey, wobbly lullabies instead.

“i know,” he says quietly, suddenly serious— keeping one eye on your baby girl who is currently splashing her hands around in the sand and water. “one of my first year’s a vessel so the curses are getting more pesky. i don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

“you think something’s about to happen?” you ask, looking up at him, but he presses a kiss to your temple and you wrinkle your nose at the sticky feeling of his lips.

“nah,” he replies, and you almost roll your eyes because you know he’s lying. even though satoru has done his best to keep you hidden from his world, you’re no fool. you already know why he rarely comes home at night, why he was absent for christmas last year, why your daughter has never met her paternal grandparents. you know that with the reappearance of several ancient cursed objects, there is thunder crackling among the clouds. “don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

satoru turns up the volume on the waterproof boombox half-buried in the sand next to your belongings. he can’t stand your choice of music, finds it noise most of the time, but it’s the distraction the atmosphere needs to throw off your questioning. he pulls you to sit down between his legs, your back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around your body.

ocean foam splashes against the tips of your toes as the two of you sit at the surf of the tide in peaceful silence, time getting away from you both in the warm sun as your baby girl plays, her energy endless— waddling around and squealing at the different curiosities and wonders the beach has to offer.

whatever will happen, satoru won’t allow it to be today.

“satoru,” you call after a long quiet, craning your neck to look up at him. “if you—”

“what, you think i’m gonna croak sometime soon?” he shoots back, already knowing where the conversation is heading. so he holds you tighter, his strong arms a protective cage around your body as his shades slide down the attractive slope of his nose. he cracks a grin at you, another obvious deflection because he knows you can’t resist when he looks at you that way. not with his hair mussed from humidity, a strip of sunscreen on his nose as he chews on that damn wooden stick from his ice pop earlier.

“i know what you’re doing,” you shake your head. “and it’s not working. i’m just worried, i’m allowed to, as your wife. you think you’re invincible but if something happens to you that’ll… it’ll—” it will break us.

satoru’s smile fades, but he thankfully doesn’t need to reply because your daughter is waddling up to the both of you now, her sand-caked hands full of seashells and stones that glimmer in the sunlight. he wants to scoff because if anyone understands the consequences of failing those you love, it’s him— it’s all he’s ever known.

“what ya got there, princess?”

“fish—!” she cries in her sweet, babyish voice. some of the shells tumble from her hands, and you watch as her expression switches from happiness to dismay to finally confusion. you have to bite your lip to hold back laughter when instead of picking them back up, she dumps the rest of the seashells in your lap. “now i don’t have any fish.”

“i think those are seashells, princess,” gojo says with a grin, picking up a shell that rests on top of your thigh and holding it up to the sunlight. “this shell looks like it belongs to a hermit crab, like your megumi-nii.”

“you’re a terrible influence on our daughter, you know.”

“i’m just setting up future dynamics, angel face,” he grins.

“look look look!” your daughter gasps, bringing your attentions back to her. “this swee-shell looks like dada—!” she squeals excitedly, her new finding held delicately in her little sand-covered palm. she stands up on your thighs to reach her father sitting behind you, holding an iridescent blue seashell next to gojo’s eyes, her tiny mind comparing the colors in wonder. meanwhile, satoru wears a smile that burns so wide it hurts his cheeks.

“it looks like you too, princess,” he boops her nose, gently taking the seashell and holding it to her eyes next. her answering giggles sound like a sweet bell calling him home to heaven, but he can’t answer it because there are two people on this earth who laugh and smile at him like he hung the moon and painted the stars. “if you put it in your pocket now, the ocean won’t call the cops on you for stealing it.”

“no, this one ‘s for dada,” she insists, shoving the pretty blue seashell back into his hand.

“thank you, my mini angel,” he ruffles her hair, and you smile softly at the little exchange because though she may be enamored with her new discoveries at the beach, her father will always be one of her favorite wonders of the world.

“i ‘anna go find one for mama now!” she announces, and you wonder how she hasn’t run out of energy yet, but you nod and stand to your feet, dusting the sand away from the bottom of your swimsuit. your baby’s entire hand curls around your pointer finger, and she pulls you along with great effort.

you glance back at satoru and find that he’s watching the two of you head closer to the water, that uncharacteristically genuine smile still on his face, and you part your lips to call him to your side— where he’s always supposed to be.

“you didn’t think we’d let you slack off, did you? finding seashells is serious business, satoru!” you tease, pretty eyes crinkling with unbridled happiness, haloed by the waning sun and the orange dreamsicle sky that holds it. “hurry up!”

“wait for me just a little while, i’m coming to you,” he calls back, a lopsided grin spreading across his mouth before he raises the polaroid camera to his face, snapping one last candid photo of the two of you before he jogs towards his little piece of heaven.

but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things when the distance between heaven and earth keeps growing further and further apart—

“satoru, you can’t stand outside forever,” your voice is gentle as it speaks behind him, your hand laid delicately on his back in comfort; breaking the sorcerer out of deep reverie, the edges of the old memory fading, replaced by the pink paint of his daughter’s bedroom door that he’s been standing in front of for the last thirty minutes. his thumb brushes over the polaroid in his hand, the one that had been his salvation and his undoing in the prison realm. he’d taken it out without knowing, his eyes reading over the date written in his handwriting.

october 30, 2018

the picture of you with your daughter on your hip that he took at the beach all those years ago— that had been the last time he’d seen her.

four, no, five years?

his feet are nailed to the floor because change makes satoru shut down, and everything has changed since then.

while time was immeasurable and immovable inside of the prison realm for him, the clock had ticked on outside of it and just like that, his little girl is no longer three years old, giving him seashells that matches his eyes or hitting the back of his ankles with her big wheel or—

“you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you sigh. “you’ve been unsealed for months. you’re her father, no matter what.”

“i’m a stranger to her,” and to you, but he doesn’t say it. you had waited for him, in every aspect of the word. held out on hope and faith in his strength that he would return to your side, where he’s always supposed to be.

“you’re n—” but you’re cut off when the door opens to reveal your daughter standing on the other side. the child standing before him is almost unrecognizable. she’s much taller and older, wearing track pants underneath her school dress with ribbons in unruly waves of white hair. the last time he’d seen his daughter, she had been three years old and still learning things like colors and sight words and that feeding megumi’s demon dogs her vegetable purée was against the rules. now, gojo satoru was the father of an eight year old and he’d missed everything because of a mista—

“you can come in,” she says, blinking up at satoru with an expression void of emotion. “but i’m not finished with my homework so if you stay too long, you’ll bug me.”

“how did you know i was outside?” he whistles nonchalantly, unbothered by the attitude that she gives him. it fills him with bitter satisfaction that she isn’t excited to see him, that someone is angry that he failed, regardless if he won in the end. he can handle bratty children who hate him and only look at him as a tool for their success, he can’t handle a daughter who cried herself to sleep every night waiting for him while he was losing his sanity away in a cube.

or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“i could see you and mama through the door, duh,” she replies, hip cocked to the side in an amount of sass she had to pick up from you. “mama says i have your eyesight. i don’t really get it, but it makes it easy to cheat on tests.”

he could see it in the bright blue of her eyes, even if she hadn’t confirmed it. plain as daylight, she’s exactly like he was at that age. easily irritable and bratty, cocky and spoiled rotten. suffering from the weight of being an uncontested heir to an ancient dynasty at the age of elementary.

“i used six eyes to cheat on tests too,” he relates with pride, and then he bends down to her height, waving his palm. “sooo you probably got some questions about where i was—”

“not really. grandfather said you were sealed because you’re foolish and let weakness distract you.”

“you shouldn’t say things like that,” you scold, “apologize.”

“why? i don’t want to.”

your daughter turns, disappearing back into her room after that and seeming like she doesn’t care if satoru follows or not. your hand travels up the long expanse of satoru’s back in a soothing circle as you step closer.

“huh, that’s new.”

“sorry, she’s… i don’t know if acting out is the right term,” you say, pain in your voice. “she doesn’t really understand why she’s so different, or why you were … gone for so long. i know you didn’t want her around your family so i kept her away as best i could, but she started to have crippling migraines because she didn’t know how to use her ability and well… they were the only ones who knew how to help. filled her head with foolishness every time she visited the estate, though and it’s changed her.”

“huh,” is all he says, a broken record, tongue running across his inner lip in thought.

“do you need me?”

“what, you think i can’t handle her?”

“well, you were outside the door for a half hour, ‘toru.”

he shoots you a lopsided grin before he’s stepping into his daughter’s bedroom, glancing around at the unfamiliarity of it all. you follow close behind, watching with a heavy heart as he takes in the difference eight years can make.

her tiny baby crib has been traded for a poster bed decorated with a sanrio duvet and various stuffed animals where a laptop and study papers lay scattered on top. the angel themed decorations, along with her first ultrasound photo you and satoru had hung up in her nursery had been replaced by pink paint and pictures of her with a group of friends from school and a photo of her on a volleyball team.

he has to rip his gaze away.

“so,” he starts, standing in the center of the room and trying not to feel like an intruder, desperate for something to say— something to relate to her with. “how many episodes did i miss? did aya-chan ever get married?”

“i’m too old to play with dolls now, father,” she huffs, scrunching up her nose, and though satoru expected that exact answer, it doesn’t stop his heart from shattering into a million pieces. he feels that familiar itch, anger welling in his body until it burns at his fingertips because this is no one’s fault but his own. “don’t you know anything about me?”

“my bad, you’re a big kid now,” he snorts, even as his chest aches. he sits on the edge of her bed, flipping up one edge of the coloring book laying next to her laptop. “maybe you should start paying taxes.”

“i’m also too young to pay taxes. you really don’t know anything about me anymore,” she snaps, and she’s right— he doesn’t and it burns like saltwater on a wound. now he knows why you asked if he needed you; he’d hide behind you if he could, but he settles for flickering his eyes up to you helplessly.

you realize that neither of you can be upset with her for being angry that one of her favorite people vanished out of thin air. that while he was sealed, his clan had taken advantage of his absence and your powerlessness against them, and had begun spoiling your child rotten, teaching her how to use her ability— plumping her up for the inevitable day that she becomes her father’s successor, turning her against him.

“i think,” you say softly, leaning against the frame of the door. “that your dada— your father— would like to learn, though. he’s missed a lot, baby.”

she considers this for a long while, then she heaves a great sigh, hackles lowering. she scoots off the bed and before satoru can feel the hurt of figuring she doesn’t want to be near him, she does something unexpected. she moves one of her trophies out of the way to open her closet door, rummaging around for the longest before she yanks out a cardboard box you had labeled ‘donate one day since my snotty kid is a hag now’— it’s a box full of old dolls, covered in dust. she sits on her knees in front of the box, peering inside.

“aya-chan didn’t get married, but hinata-chan did,” she explains with an exasperated sigh and a roll of her eyes, taking out the dolls one by one and setting them on the floor in front of satoru’s feet.

“to the mailman that lived in your ugliest dollhouse?”

“you remember,” her eyes widen a little in surprise before her expression shutters again, smoothing out the doll’s colorful polyester dress before reaching back into the box and retrieving a brush covered in synthetic hairs. she looks at it for a while before extending her arm and offering the brush to her father. “aya-chan decided to be independent and explore the world. she’s planning to go on a trip soon so she needs to get ready. do y’wanna brush her hair?”

satoru is sliding off the bed and sitting cross-legged on the floor before he knows it, barely wanting to breathe because he doesn’t want to shatter the fragility of the moment between them. he takes the brush, and seconds later she hands him one of the dolls that had once upon a time been her favorite one that no one was allowed to touch. you would giggle at the delicate way he brushes the doll’s hair with utmost care and precision if you weren’t about to cry at the scene instead. “oh, and where’s she headed?”

“okinawa.”

“ponytail or messy bun then?” you don’t think you’re imagining the wobble in his voice. “to compliment her swimsuit.”

a tiny, hopeful smile twinkles over your lips at the two of them on the floor, babbling away to each other about the outlandish stories they’ve created together with her dolls. how many times had you offered to play with her, only for her to burst into tears because it wasn’t the same? you know that this won’t bridge the gap between the years that have been lost, but it’s a start. just hearing the soft murmurs of their conversation, the sound of your little girl giggling for the first time in ages, makes your heart swell.

time may be an undefeated opponent, and with it comes change that no one can control, but something tells you that as long as the three of you are together— everything will be okay.

you tiptoe out of the room, because they need time to catch up and apologize and reconnect, to learn one another once more, but before you close the door, you don’t think you’re mistaken when you hear, “can we go back to the beach too, dada?”

#little novels.#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo angst

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tinyhrry · 9 months

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Angst

untitled (@avatar-anna)

Grief Pt 2 (@avatar-anna)

The Maid of Honour & The Best Man (@musicforastylesrestaurant)

Why Dont U Love Me? Pt 2 (@alltheloveflowerh)

The Boxer Pt 2 (@ever-since-kiwi)

I wish you were the one who told me (@meetevieinthehallway)

Commitment Pt 2 (@harry-writings)

Friends before fans (@finelinevogue)

Take my money (@gucciharrywritings)

Destiny (@freedomfireflies)

Thick and Thin (@theonewiththefanfics)

Reconcile (@talesofstyles)

High (@harryisalrightig)

Champagne Problems (@allyouneedisbuck)

Love you goodbye (@atharryshouse)

Canyon moon (@gucciwins)

She can see we're lonely down here (@violetsandfluff)

A small phone call (@twohearts-hs)

Trust (@shroombloomm)

Pull me in (@hunflowers)

Just called to say I love u (@avatar-anna)

Better Man (@avatar-anna)

In sickness and in health (@talesofstyles)

Failure (@avatar-anna)

to love someone (@ineffablywriting)

Second (@missmielyhoran)

you are the love of my life (@finelinevogue)

worst daddy ever (@whitemancumslut)

future gf (@avatar-anna)

rivals (@avatar-anna)

interesting (@goldsainz)

Fluff

birthday boy (@finelinevogue)

drive my car (@mulledcherrywine)

No guarantee (@allofurlove)

Girl Gone Live (@avatar-anna)

When in Rome (@finelinevogue)

Drama Queen (@sunflowerkiwis)

Wardrobe Malfunction (@watchmegetobsessed)

Drunk on a wedding (@harryyskiwii)

Favorite Holiday (@tsumtsumrry)

Puppy Love (@watchmegetobsessed)

Highschool Lovers (@haaarry)

Class Buddies (@ever-since-kiwi)

Waiting for you (@watchmegetobsessed)

Chubby Cheeks (@jarofstyles)

Bo Peep (@haarrrys)

Anything for his girls (@flwrsforu)

Shoot ur shot (@finelinevogue)

Wouldn't it be nice (@ill-be-your-honey-bri)

Where the world takes you (@havethetimeofyourstyles)

Princess Jasmin (@harrysmimi

New York streets & dreams (@sweet-creature101)

What dreams are made of (@flwrsforu)

Sick on tour (@musicforastylesrestaurant)

At the brits (@hes-writer)

Times you were at Wembley with harry (@harrysfolklore)

Lots of loving (@daaydreamy)

Finally Free (@be-with-me-so-happily)

Before the show (@avatar-anna)

Home (@musicforastylesrestaurant)

Childhood Friends (@harryyskiwii)

In your rainbow paradise (@anabsolutetrainwreck)

Instagram Live (@astranva)

Good job (@daaydreamy)

Love at the coffee shop (@gucciwins)

Interesting enough? (@finelinevogue)

Brother's best friend (@watchmegetobsessed)

We're really funny (@mosh-4)

asking for her hand (@ameliaskdr)

GQ couples quiz (@glitteredrry)

worth the risk (@gucciwins)

Smut

No more games (@watchmegetobsessed)

Better now (@bopbopstyles)

Series

Pregnancy Series (@avatar-anna)

Our Story (@daisyblog)

Songs of hers (@chaoticloving)

Kiss me in the dark (@finelinevogue)

Young dad!harry (@avatar-anna)

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impala1967dwinchester · 1 month

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Sam Winchester: Fate

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader/Sam

Warnings: Monsters as usual (Dijnn), depression, pregnancy, fighting

Summary: With Y/n on the run, Sam's depression can't help but get the best of him while the fate of his relationship and child hangs in the balance.

WC- 2.677k

A/n- @firefly-graphics for dividers, This is a part 2 of something I wrote nearly a year ago. "Sam Winchester: Running Away" I

Main Master List // Sam W. Master List

It's weird hiding from the Winchester boys. Weirdly, people are so much nicer to me now. The summer sun in Texas is hot on my back as I walk out of the grocery store. I tried my best to settle down and got a small job at a travel agency. I'm renting a small apartment from an old lady who helped me when I first got off the bus in Bay City.

In the past few months, my body has changed in many ways. I have a larger belly and more cravings than I've ever experienced. I talk to my belly almost every night after I calm down from work. I tell them stories about Sam and Dean. I tell them how their father is a hero, how he's saved the world, and how he has taken my heart with his bright, kind smile.

Like clockwork, every night, there's a message from Sam asking me if I'm doing alright, or begging me if I can just respond. It breaks my heart, but no matter what, I can't bring myself to type back a message. It didn't take long after I walked out of the bunker to know that I was walking away from the person that I love and that my home was disappearing into the background of the Kansas sunset.

Yet I couldn't bear to walk back into the bunker; somewhere in my twisted mind, it told me I had to go. I had to leave it all behind because I wasn't worth it. I wasn't worth the stress, the worry, or anything I might bring down on the Winchester boys.

I thought I had gotten away from it all—the grueling monsters, the death at every corner. I guess I was wrong because one second, I was shopping in a local baby store, and the next, I was somewhere completely different. Some places had air that felt lighter, and some places had my hopes and dreams feel like reality.

There's a warm hand wrapping around my middle. "Good morning, sweetheart." It's a voice I know, a voice I haven't heard in such a long time. One that makes my heart soothe from the racing it's currently doing in my chest. Then, I realize we aren't in the bunker but in a rather nice-looking bedroom. The sound of smaller feet pounding on the ground brings me to look at the doorway. "Anna must be up," Sam says in a whisper, his soft words brushing against my ear and giving me a round of shivers.

Anna comes busting into the bedroom, uncaring to knock on the bedroom door. You think you care but don't after you look at her. Hair as dark as Sams but eyes like yours. A gigantic smile on her chubby cheeks. "MOmmY!" She shouts as she climbs up the bed to get onto your body. You can see Sam out of the corner of your eye. It's a smile you only ever see reserved for you, and you don't know how you managed to be back in his arms and a kid you share together. You're lost in how you got from the store alone pregnant to here in his arms, in bed together with your family.

The feeling stays with you as the day starts, and you watch Sam shift from sweats and a white t-shirt to a pair of shorts and a hawwin shirt. "Aren't you gonna get dressed, baby?" He asks as he catches you staring at him from the bed still. "I… Where are we going?" You ask him, unsure still by the normality of this odd life. "Don't tell me you forgot about the barbecue that Dean invited us to?" He says, a knit-in his brow. You lick your lips and try to think, but there's nothing there, just white clouds that fog your thoughts.

"It's alright if you forgot, babe, just get dressed. It's warm out, so wear that pretty little sun dress you bought a few weeks ago." Sam says as he comes over, planting a kiss on your forehead. "I'm going to get Anna ready, I love you." You stare at the door for a few moments longer, waiting until he's left, and you can hear Sam and Anna talking down the hall. You get up feeling the carpet under your feet and the warmth that radiates through the window.

You do get dressed in the sun dress Sam mentioned. It still had the price tag on it, so you assumed it was the one he was talking about. It fits you perfectly, curved around your hips with ease, and giving everyone who might look at you a perfect display of your breasts. You find a nice pair of sandals and make your way towards the echos of voices.

"There she is," Sam says, happiness and warmth seeping from the kitchen. Anna turns around whipping her head in your direction, she too is dressed in a sundress pinks and purples mixed together with her hair up in braids. "You look good, Mommy," Anna says as she comes over, hugging your leg. You breathe it all in, getting deeper and deeper into it. You aren't sure still unsure how you managed to get here, but you can't say you're mad about it.

The ride to Deans is off, but everything is off for you. Sam can sense it; one hand from the wheel comes to the rest of your exposed knee. "You doin' alright, honey?" he asks, worry laced in his words. You shake your head, giving him more to worry about, but you don't know. All you can think of is the tiny giggles coming from the back seat.

Anna is watching something on a tablet, and her smile glows from whatever she's watching. "Come on, honey. You can talk to me about anything," Sam says, trying to trigger the conversation to continue. "I know, Sam. I'm just trying to be in the moment." You say, and that's the reality of it. Because this moment and the one this morning had been everything you were dreaming about.

"Dean, I just know something is wrong!" I say to my brother as I continue to stare at my phone. The text messages aren't even being read anymore. At least when Y/n was reading them, I knew she was safe; I knew that she was doing alright. I can hear the sigh of frustration fall from my lips as I put the phone back down the library table. "Sam, we can't do anything if she doesn't want us to," Dean says, trying to support both of us.

I lift my head, staring angrily at my brother. "I don't give a shit anymore. I don't care why she ran away. I don't care at all. I just want her back in my life. Now I'm pretty sure Charlie can figure out where she is." I huff out. With a grunt and shake of his head, he's got his phone beside his ear, calling our good friend Charlie.

I can hear the slight argument between Dean and Charlie as I sit, waiting for a quick answer. "I know, but can you just help us. Y/n hasn't been reading." Dean says, looking over at me. "She hasn't been looking at Sam's messages. Can you just give us a location so we can restart this?" Dean finishes. There's mumbling on the other side of the phone, but then I see Dean hidden. "Okay, text that to me, Charlie. Thank you," he says and then drops the phone from his cheek.

ASnxeity has set in when we get to where Y/n has been staying for the past few months. Her car is there, but the door to her apartment is cracked open; my blood runs cold, and just like that, I'm set on finding her. Dean tries to calm me and reminds me that not everything is terrible. She might just be doing something, like taking out the trash.

I glare at him and bring my gun from my hip to sweep through her apartment. Baby books and a few baby clothes are in the living room. Her bedroom is perfect as if she had never made it home. "Is she just taking out the trash now, Dean?" I snark at him, "I was trying to help. So… we have to work this like a case now?" Dean questions, I nod, and just like that, I'm searching for Y/n all over again.

Dean is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, and the kids run all over the house. His wife easily kisses his cheek, and he holds her close to his side. "Uncle De!" Anna screams, and Dean smiles broader and brighter than you've ever seen him. "Hey, kiddo," Dean says warmly as he picks her up and puts her on his hip. "You guys made it." Dean's wife says, and she comes over to give you a hug.

"What about us, baby girl?" a stranger asks. When I turn, I'm struck by the Winchesters' parents—happy, healthy, and very much alive. "Hey, Dad," Sam says happily, hugging his father and wrapping his mother tightly. You watch as the day goes on with absolute ease. Dean talks about adding a new portion to the Winchester auto shop; John lights up with joy at the idea of more business and growth for the business he's known since he was a young adult.

Sam holds you close to his chest as you two dance in the yard, the sky turning purple and orange. You rest your head on his chest and let the movement of your feet guide you into contentment. "You know I love you, right?" Sam asks you as his large hands hold your waist and back. You hum, but you are not willing to open your closed eyes. "And you know you are everything I've ever wanted, right? No matter what happens between the two of us, I'll always want you." Sam says you can feel the tears brimming in your lashes.

"I know Sam." Your voice cracks and gives away the way tears are threatening to fall. "I love you too." As you lift onto your tiptoes in the cool grass, you mutter back and press a needy kiss to his lips. You two are sadly interrupted by John. "Anna is sleeping; if you wanna, you guys can come to pick her up tomorrow." John offers, and Sam pulls me closer. "Thanks, Dad." He tells his dad, then turns to me, "Let's go home." You nod and take his hand in yours.

"What did I fucking tell you!?" I knew she was in trouble; I knew something was wrong. To be the cherry on top, she's pregnant, and she's been taken for whatever fucking reason. "It's just a dinner. We've dealt with enough of them to know the deal," Dean says. I slam the trunk of the baby shut, my molars grinding as I look at the depleted cave that's currently holding my girl and baby prisoner in a fake world.

Of her own imagination.

The silver blade drips all over the ground as I enter the cave. The dark walls hold secrets and horror that I hope and wish Y/n would never experience. It's all a blank somewhere between entering the cave and getting to Y/n. The only thing I feel is the splatter of blood onto my face and my eyes searching for that beautiful face.

She doesn't look like she's been there for too long, but her arms hang above her head, her belly prodding out. I'm stuck standing still over the djinn. Dripping its own blood back onto the dead man, Dean is quick to get over to Y/n, pulling the attachments out of her arm and pulling her down gently.

"Sam, get your ass over here. We… we are gonna have to take her to the hospital." Dean says, and somewhere in my frozen mind, my legs move to get a closer look at her. Her cheeks are a little sunken, but her face is still full of color. I know why Dean said we would have to take her to the hospital.

It's not too long before the large white building in Texas appears in the Impala's view. "I'm going to stop by the emergency doors to help your girl and that baby get some help. I nod and wait for the red letters to appear. A nurse is already waiting for us, and she takes a view of Y/n. "What happened?" the nurse asks, and for a moment, I think of telling the truth, but something else comes out. Something like, "She went for a walk a few hours ago, and then I didn't hear anything back from her." I say, my voice wanting to crack. The nurse nods, and I follow them for as long as possible.

Y/n is stuck in the cold hospital room for way too long. Fluids and IV being run into her system, the baby had been pretty much okay. Besides needing extra fluids, everything was fine, according to the doctors. They allowed me to stay in the room with her. The ICU has too many beeping machines, and there's constantly a team over Y/n making sure her and the baby's vitals are alright.

"Sam," A small voice calls out. "Y/n," I say, alerting half of the ICU floor that she's awake. She smiles slightly and then looks around her surroundings. "Where… why am I here, Sam?" She asks me. The happiness that was once there filters out and hits the bottom of my stomach. "You… Dean and I took care of what caught you," I answer her. "What caught me?" The heart machine starts to pick up speed. "Calm down, baby, please. I need you to breathe slowly and out before I tell you." I say to Y/n. She takes a few breaths and then squeezes my hand, wanting me to continue.

"You were caught by a djinn," I say, swallowing hard. It took Dean and me about three days to find you and another two beforehand to figure out something was wrong." There's silence from Y/n, and then she looks up at me with tears. "What about our baby?" she asks. I nod. The baby is fine; I did all sorts of tests to ensure everything was good," I tell her.

The silence continues until Y/n brings her attention up from her belly. "I saw a few things." "Did you?" I ask, wondering if she's going to explain. "I saw us, Dean, and your parents. I saw a life I so desperately wanted with you but thought I wasn't allowed to have with you because of our life." She says with a heavy sadness in her voice. "I thought I had to leave to take that burden away from you and Dean. I thought…" She hiccups, and tears roll down her cheeks.

"Baby, you will never be a burden to me, nor will our kid. I want nothing more than for you to come home so I can keep both of you safe and protected. I worried about you every single minute of every single day. It was hard to know that you thought you would be better off elsewhere." I say to her, wrapping her tightly in a much-needed hug.

"How'd you know where I was?" She asks when I release her from the hug. "I had Dean call Charlie," I say without a single ounce of regret. She giggles a little, "It wasn't funny; I'm pretty sure the next time we see the girl, she's gonna slap me across my face." Dean says, making us both look up at him.

"Thank you." Y/n says, "Of course, you're family, after all." Dean says from his spot in the doorway. When can I go home?" She asks, "Let me go get the nurse, and we will figure it out, baby." I say, letting go of her hand before pressing a kiss on her temple and running out to get a nurse.

Completed on: 03/15/24

Posted on: 03/15/24

#supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural fic #supernatualfluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #sam winchester headcanon #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #fluff #angst/fluff #pregnancy

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salaciousdoll · 2 years

Text

Armin’s Mean Girl

Pairings 🔪: Armin Arlet x fem!reader

Encapsulation 🔪: Being a mean girl is a life you lived and breathed, Armin couldn’t help but to fall in love even if you aren’t looking for love in a married man

Warnings 🔪: Smut, manipulative! Armin, manipulative!reader, face fucking, filming, dom!Armin( kinda), Armin is ooc and he’s taller than his usual height for the sake of this position( about 6’1), reader is spiteful towards the wife, a complete mean girl, eren is your ex and he’s mentioned, breeding, choking, impact play, dirty talking(degradation and praise), cheater!Armin, Husband!Armin, chubby reader, black coded reader( just not explicit), rough fucking, Cumming in mouth, swallowing, cervix fucking( just a little bit)

Word Count 🔪: 3.9k

18+ Spooky Hotties Allowed

This is for @sanzucide burn book collab, tysm for letting me join!!

Armin was your play toy who you loved to fuck. He always was so whiny and beautiful when you’re riding him.

The way his dulcet, blue eyes went droopy whenever you squeezed around him was enough to make you want him for yourself but instead you had to share with that bitch. You hated her ever since high school and now she is married to him at the age of 25 years old. Who the hell gets married in their 20s anyways? Bitches who act mighty and fake-classy, that’s for sure. Yeah you held hella resentment to the bitch who took everything from you.

Every activity you did, she managed to do and always got praises. Every friend you made or tried to make, she swooped in with her perfect smile taking them away from you. You were beginning to see a pattern when she took Eren away from you. He was your love at the time and she managed to slip her freshly done manicured hands that had the same design as you, French tips at that time, into his pants and heart.

She was the new girl at the school and yet she started to have more followers than you. You were the one who put her on the map, yet she turned out to be “better” than you. The people’s words of course not yours, duh! The pattern led you to believe she was obsessed with you ever since you befriended her when no one else was willing. Even your close friends managed to point out similarities between you two.

Every time you got a new mini skirt, she got the same fabric and design just a different color. Every heel you wore she wore at parties she’d invite everyone to. Everytime you got a new pair of gym shoes or boots her ass got them the next week or day.

She was an annoying little bitch and now she’s a changed woman. News flash she isn’t and you know it because once a mean girl will always be a mean girl, you all just grow up into mean sluts or whores. You can proudly vouch for that, reasons why you made it this far in life now: being mean and pretty can get you everywhere. You would know since you were the face of that category.

You were honestly beginning to feel bad for her at one point because of Armin Arlert.He was your play toy for two reasons only, one he was that bitch, Anna, husband and two because he was Eren’s best friend, crazy right. She fucked both of them but managed to marry one of them due to eren cheating on her with Misa, the same way he cheated on you with her.

Oh how much you laughed and posted the papers about her and eren relationship being over with the text messages of him and her when he was cheating on you with her, revenger was written at the top of the paper with red coloring and next to the screenshots were pictures of Eren and Misa making out in his car. You exposed them two in the process of exposing the slimy bitch you hated since she got to the school. The best part is— you didn’t care about the backlash.

Armin, on the other hand, was sweet but never innocent. You knew that from the start when you first met him in high school. He fabricated his innocence and honestly you wanted to call him out to get the kick out of it but what sense does that make if you can just prove his not so innocent based on his desperation for you alone. It was almost sad at how desperate he was. But you basked in his desperation, it made you really want to string him along for more than you planned. Candy is a good example to describe this situation—

very sweet but unhealthy to eat.

The feeling of evil was all around you as you had your phone out recording yourself sucking his long dick. You were enjoying sucking him off so much that you didn’t even care about his panicked face once he saw you recording on your phone. You also didn’t care because you were trying to fit all of him inside your mouth. You see Armin’s dick was bigger than your mouth can take, he was thick and long with three veins across his dick, it curved upwards and you found that fascinating once you finally fucked him senior year of high school, now you both were in college fucking like rabbits without his pregnant “wife” knowing.

Armin reached to grab your phone but you were quicker than him, “ Ah Ah Ah, this is for me, blonde, so sit back and relax while I suck your cock the way you like it.” Armin couldn’t help but to doubt what you were saying when he saw the smirk you displayed on your pretty face, “ You got to promise me that you won’t show anybody, especially her?”

You purse your lips out and scrunch up your face before responding, “ Okay, I promise but if you or her gets out of line then she’s getting shown the video of you eating my pussy, got that?”

You didn’t let him respond because you wrapped your succulent lips around his red flushed tip, sucking on it with eagerness while pointing the camera at you and then him when you saw the way his eyes rolled back. Gosh he was angelic and here you were sucking the “innocence” out of him.

You heard a faint “ fuck” as you took him deeper down your throat making sure not to gag too much, relaxing your throat in the process. You felt his thighs quiver underneath your pretty hands with light pink nails that fit well with your skin complexion due to how pretty the pink was. He had to sit up on his elbows to see you take him into your mouth, “ Fuck yes, take all of me baby, please, your throat is like another pussy baby. So tight and wet.”

You let out a little giggle against his cock creating vibrations, earning a deep groan. Your wink at the camera with a full mouth was enough to make him cum. He took the camera from your hands and held it in view of you sucking his dick with his stomach sucking in and out whenever you suck hard on his cock.

“ Aah yes baby, suck my cock just like that, such a good little slut.”, Armin moans, still trying to hold the camera up while his body bounced back on the bed. You took one of your hands and played with his balls, deep throating his cock to the best of your ability. His tip was bullying the back of your throat and you loved every second of it.

You let out little moans making his mind go in and out, he was mind fucked right now just off your plush, glossy lips wrapped around his cock like his perfect little whore. Armin couldn’t take it anymore, so he had no choice but to hold your head with his free hand, he moved into your mouth at a moored pace, “ ohhh shit, your mouth is soo… soo… amazing!”

You could tell he was about to cum when his balls slapped against your chin in pleasure. You holllowed your cheeks for him and that only got your nose stuffed against his pelvis taking in his beauotful scent with a mixture of his sweat musk. Your jaw felt like it was going to break and your throat felt like it was being punctured by a pin. Point being that it hurts.

You tried to breathe out of your nose since your mouth was stuffed with all of his dick but as soon as his balls jumped, cum flowed inside of your mouth, “ mmm”. Low panic of hums were heard, just like the deep groans heard around the room. Your were coughing and trying to break apart from Armin’s dick but he wasn’t letting up especially when he snapped his hips into your mouth three more times, “ Take it all baby, that’s right, swallow my dick baby, swallow all of my cum just like the perfect girl you claim to be. Oh!”

He talked like this to you when you made him mad or he’s completely had enough. You tried to swallow all of his cum but you were getting light headed, so you decided to tap his thighs telling him to let you up but he wasn’t listening until he saw your mascara roll down your eyes mixing in with the most angelic tears he’s ever witnessed. More spit was trailing down your mouth and onto his dick, creating more shininess. God! Did you look so perfect right now? A true slut. His slut!

Because you looked so pretty with tears and his cock in your mouth and because you were a good girl and swallowed most of his cum, he allowed you to breathe again. You hurried and latched yourself off his cock with a string of saliva disconnecting you apart from his cock. You sat on your knees coughing and wheezing from the impact of almost dying on his dick. Never did he ever do that and for some reason you wanted him to do it more often now. The feeling of dying while sucking dick was an entirely new feeling you were beginning to like, maybe even love.

Armin caught his breath as he sat up, still holding your phone to your face, seeing if you’re okay , “ You alright, baby?” You were confused because he was about to kill you just a minute ago and now he’s comforting you, you weren’t complaining though. To answer his question, you nodded your head and that action made him smile at you before pecking you on the lips two times, “ Allow me to fuck a baby into you? Can you allow that for me? Hmm.”

Your eyes widened at that statement and you were about to respond until you heard him chuckle, “ learn how to take a joke, baby, isn’t that what you always tell me?” You were frozen until you got the courage to laugh, “ yeah but I’m ready for you to take me now, please fuck me Min’!”

Armin smiled with a tight lipped smile prior to him grabbing your hand, pulling you up just to switch places with you while pushing you down on the bed in the process. You were confused because why would he push you down on your stomach instead of telling you to bend over if he’s fucking you in one of his usual positions: Doggy style.

“ You said you wanted to try a new position and I’ve asked Connie, Jean, Eren, and Reiner what positions are best when having sex, they added one called prone-bone. Honey, have you ever tried that before? Did he ever do that position with you because he suggested it to me without even knowing I was talking about his ex girl he’s still hung up on.”, Armin whispers in your ear. He was so happy you were already bare, it’s just your bra and panties still on. He also wanted to see your reaction to what he just said so he cocked his head down and to the side to see your face.

You were smirking because you knew Eren was the one who suggested it because that was a position you introduced him to and the position he taught to her— who will not be named.

Armin chuckled at your face before placing his knees on both sides of your hips massaging the fat of your ass in between his pretty, long fingers, “ Fuck, this ass is perfect and all mine.” You never heard him talk like this and was about to question him until he ripped your panties in half making you gasp, “ Armin! What the fuck!”

Armin didn’t care about what you have to say because he’ll just buy you more. Right now, he only cared about the feeling of your warm walls around his dick. He’s aching for it and he now knows you are too when he reaches down to rub your clit feeling the stickiness and wetness. He felt your body shake underneath him as you bit your lip letting a mean moan escape your pretty lips he’s fallen in love with. He could only see your since he was holding your neck with one hand, making you bend your back a little to gain access of the view of him taking you in.

“ Are you ready, princess? Hmm.”, He asked as he leaned down to pack you again. Armin was glad that you were under him right now. He may be short but damn did he have a long length somewhere else.

“ Please put it in already, I wanna feel you inside of me, Min’ please.”, you say as you looked up at him with doll-like lashes and pretty eyes he always admired. You knew you had him right where you wanted because you did two things he loved— batting those pretty eyelashes and begging.

“ You’re begging is so hot princess, your making my dick jump based off that alone.”, Armin says before letting go of your neck. He tapped your ass with his cock three times, pushing in with a deep moan. You and Armin moan in sync at the feeling of his cock bullying its way into you like a burglar breaking into a house.

Armin’s cock belonged inside of you and he knew it all along, he had no remorse on fucking you in the bed he and his wife lay, besides she just wasn’t you, so he definitely didn’t feel bad. He so badly wanted to because of the humane and nice side of him but his other side was doing the thinking and talking here and he let it. For you.

Armin snapped his hips into you, feeling you spasm around his cock like an elastic band. His cock was curved and hit you in all the right places. You stretched around him while also pulling him inside due to your tightness and he loved it so much, “ Aah baby, this feels so good, keep doing your pussy like that,”

You grabbed onto the sheets crumbling them under your respirated hand, “ Arminnn, this is too much, I think I could feel you in my stomach, Mmgh fuck!” Armin smirked when he heard your voice, fuck it was so sexy no matter the tone or how soft or deep it was. He was completely in love with you. He knew that ever since he named his first child after your middle name and naming his second child with a name similar to yours.

Armin’s movements were slow and steady since he set up your phone on the prompt up pillows he stored without you noticing. Your moans were soundless because of your face being stuffed into the cleaned sheets on his bed. He was so glad his wife was out with the kids tonight over her mother's house. He had the whole house to himself for the night since he chose to have a fight with her for this reason only. Making love and fucking you.

His warm lips trailed down the back of your neck as he moved in and out of your soaking tight cunt. The way you hugged around him should be studied in sex mususems if there is one. You sweet moans rolled off your tongue and sounded like his favorite genre of music on repeat. You were enticing and dangerous. He’d risk it all for you in a heartbeat.

The feeling of Armin kissin’ down your neck and back was everything you needed to add to this sensual pleasure but you wanted him to treat you like his slut he claims for you to be, right now he’s going so slow that it’s painful and pleasuring at the same time, “ Come on, min’ is that the best you got for me? What a shame when Eren did this position it was way better than whatever this is. I mean the way he pounded inside of me was something I will cherish until somebody has topped him and so far Nobody has topped him.” And to top it off you laughed at him.

Armin stopped every movement he had when you mentioned his best friend, your ex. Why did you have to go there and on top of that you laugh at him, mocking him, so he had no choice but to fuck up his wall. Don’t know how he’s going to explain it to his wife and don't care about it right now. Not after what you just said.

Armin positioned himself lower, making his chest touch your back, he forcefully intertwined his right hand on top of yours before using his left arm to wrap around your neck, “ You won’t even think about him when I’m done with you.” Armin snapped his hips into your ass creating ripples form how hard he fucked into your pussy. Your oussy quivered around his cock but he didn’t care because he kept going like that. Wet claps were heard around the room in sync with the bed frame hitting the wall over and over.

You couldn’t do anything but scream from the impact of his dick creeping it’s way to your cervix. Everytime he moved in your walls clamped around him like a magnet and when he moved out they went right back to the way they were before. You felt so good and full, this is what you wanted.

His name felt like a ritual to you since you were chanting it over and over as he fucked inside of your faster, finally making his tip collide with your cervix over and over. Meanwhile, your eyes were rolled into the back of your head at his movements and words whispered in your ear, “ This is what you wanted right. You wanted me to treat you like the slut you are, right? How embarrassing. Truly.”

You almost wanted to cry at his tone and the fact that the way his dick is slamming into your pussy felt like somebody was slapping you on your pussy over and over. Technically he was since his balls slapped onto your clit.

He finally lifted up and put your legs together before pouncing on you again. You couldn’t see the look in his face and you wished you could because he was ducking you just like you wanted him too.

He held himself up by his hands before digging inside of your pussy like a man trying to find gold on sacred land, “ Fuck yes, so embarrassing for you to only think of being a slut. Nothing else goes on inside of that pea brain of yours and it’s concerning. You’re so- ughh! Shit!- so damn lucky your face and pussy makes up for what’s lost up there. Such a mean girl but with a broken mind, am I right?”

You felt disgusted because he was right and because he was holding your head down with one of his hands. He turned your head to the picture on his dresser and it was of his family. Gosh were you really a whore.

“ Armin, please, it’s starting to hurt but I want you to keep going, Mmgh, you fuck me so much better!”, You say with tears coming out your closed eyes. You only closed them to get the image of his family out of your mind while fucking him and it worked but not for long when you heard him let out a loud groan before lifting half of your body up by your hair, “ Don’t take your fucking eyes off that photo, you want to act like a slut and mention the one name I told you not to mention than you’ll be treated like a 2 dollar Whore who’s fucking a married man with two kids, ahhh fuck! Your fucking getting off to this shit because you’re squeezing me so hard.”

Your neck was starting to hurt but he didn’t care because he still drilled into your pussy with no mercy. You were starting to feel like you were about to piss on yourself so you reached back to tap his thighs, but he swat your hands away like a fly on a hot summer day. You felt humiliated when you started to feel yourself peeing, only to feel yourself squirting instead. You hated how the two were similar but you loved the feeling of squirting on a big dick. Armin was the only one to make that happen.

You screamed out his name over and over as he continued to pound inside of you despite you squirting on his dick and the bed, “ Ahh Armin, I wanna- Ohh fuck!— I wanna cum, fuck it I’m about to cum..” you chanted out pleas after that and honestly it was falling death on his ears because he was too focused on getting himself off right now that he didn’t care what you say or did.

“ Puusy is mine, you got that. No other person can make you feel this way like I do. You know this, princess. Huugh fuck— you fit around me so well, your pussy has been fucked into shape by me and I can’t be more proud of myself for fucking this hot. Used. Pussy.”, Armin couldn’t help the words that came out of his mouth because he was pussy drunk and he could tell you were drunk off his cock. Your babbling could justify his point. Just the way he likes it.

His sweat was building up on his body and his limbs were starting to stagger due to the feeling of cumming. He needed to cum so badly that’s why he started chanting your name. Both of your bodies fell onto the bed and he kept moving inside of you chasing his flaming and needed orgasm. Your scream and the tightness of your cunt was enough to let him know that you came around him. The cream flowed down your pussy and onto his thick dick making his body shudder with desperation, “ Shit I can’t hold on, I’m cummin’, cumming inside of you!” You couldn’t help but to moan in exhaustion when you felt his shots of cum inside of you.

It was so hot inside of you and the way he was whispering in your ear made you cry, “ Feel nothing else but my dick, baby. Fucking hell! I love you so much, so, so, so much!” You hated that he was confessing his love to you but at the same time you loved it because now you have everything you needed from him.

He pulled out of you and rolled off you, “ That was amazing, y/n.” You faced his way and smiled at him, “ It was, thank you so much for proving what I already knew: you’re better than everybody I fucked. And that’s only three people.”

Armin chuckled before leaning in to capture your phone, passing it to you, “ Come here and make sure you send me that later, she isn’t coming here until tomorrow evening.”

You smirked in victory as you laid beside him with your legs entangled with his. Anna was gonna feel everything tomorrow and he was too because in the morning he saw you gone, leaving only your schemes and you two scandals behind for him to explain to everyone who supported him and his wife.

God! You loved being a mean girl!

Tagging🔪: @dejwrites @simpingforwakasa04 @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia

#armin arlet x reader #armin smut #dom! armin #anime men x reader #anime smut #anime men smut #aot smut #chubby reader #black reader #aot x black reader #x black reader #plus size reader #fem reader #eren yeager #eren x reader #burnbookcollab

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e-dubbc11 · 5 months

Text

The Sweetest Christmas

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: None, really. Maybe a swear word or two. All of the fluffy bunnies and unicorns.

Word Count: 4.7k-ish

Summary: Little Anna Raven is just starting to understand what happens during this time of year and she’s very excited about the gift she asked Santa for. Billy has a special gift for you also.

A/N: This is for my lovely @jvanilly who probably loves this series more than anyone. She asked for more of The Sweetest Pain series so ask and you shall receive! (I also have more of Out of Left Field coming for you too.) Thank you for loving this series and to everyone else who loves this series. I just love writing for them. ♥️

Oh, one more thing…I realize some on my tag list may have fallen out of like with my Billy or just have fallen out of like with me or maybe you’re just goin through some shit, I understand. So even though I don’t want to, I plan on removing people on my tag list that I haven’t chatted with, haven’t commented or even thrown a ♥️ on my fics in awhile. I’m sorry but I don’t really want to waste your time if you’re not interested in them anymore or haven’t had the time lately, it’s ok. I do try and keep my masterlists up to date so you know where to find them, absolutely no hard feelings! ♥️♥️♥️

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The brisk December air stung your lungs as you walked along the sidewalk toward the tattoo studio. You pulled your winter hat back down to cover your ears as the wind smacked you directly in the face while reaching for the handles of Anna’s stroller.

The little squeals of excitement as you pushed her faster made you smile. She didn’t care that it was freezing outside or that you were cold, your little miss was having a great time. Her chubby little finger shot out to point in front of her and she turned to face you with her rosy cheeks to tell you something.

“Daddy!!” She yelled excitedly.

Anna recognized the Anvil Tattoo logo anywhere and it made your heart swell to see how excited she would get when she knew she was going to see her father at work.

It’s a good thing she was strapped into the stroller because she started to bounce up and down in the seat; she was so excited. Sometimes you wondered if she was excited to see Billy or excited for all the treats she knew she would get. It was probably a little bit of both.

The holidays seemed to sneak up faster and faster every year but especially now that you had an addition to your little family. This would be Anna’s third Christmas season and she was just starting to understand what it all meant.

It was getting easier for Billy too because this time of year had always been hard for him but now that he had a family of his own, the bad memories of being alone during this time of year were becoming distant ones.

And he loved focusing on you and little Raven. Anna wasn’t the only one learning all about holiday seasons and family traditions…Billy was too and ever since your first Christmas together, he liked it more and more.

“We’re almost there, baby girl. Are you cold?” You asked.

Little Raven shook her head furiously. “Let’s go, Mommy!”

She was really starting to talk more now, her sentences weren’t so broken anymore and she was like a sponge, picking up every little thing you said. She’s even picked up a few colorful words courtesy of her Uncle Frank but you knew it was only a matter of time before she started repeating those words.

You and your husband didn’t always keep your language clean around little Raven either but her Uncle Frank was a heavy influence on her, at times.

As you opened the door, a gust of wind almost took the handle right out of your hands. Strands of your hair were caught in your mouth as you tried to spit them out while still holding onto the handles of the stroller. Anna had started to giggle while watching you struggle to get the hair out of your mouth and eyes.

“Mommy can’t see.” She said with a wide smile.

Billy rushed from behind his desk to help you and to make fun of you at the same time. He pushed your hat away from your eyes to see them better and said, “Is it windy out there or somethin’?”

He bit down on his lower lip to try and keep from laughing.

“Well aren’t you soooooo funny, Mr. Russo. Keep it up and I’ll send your Christmas presents back.” You replied with narrowed eyes.

Billy cupped your cheeks, gazed down at you with his endless brown eyes, and smiled his million-dollar smile at you. That smile always made you feel better.

“My little firecracker.” He said as he gently pressed his lips to yours. “Ok, I’m sorry. You don’t have to use fightin’ words.”

You instantly felt warmer as the heat rushed to your cheeks and warmth spread across your chest. Billy’s slender fingers brushed down the side of your neck as he kissed your cheeks and your forehead.

Anna was turned around in her stroller watching the two of you as you kissed and caught you both off guard when she asked, “Daddy, what does Mommy taste like?”

Nothing like a toddler to ruin the moment but you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

Billy crouched down to unbuckle Anna from the stroller.

“Mommy tastes sweet like candy, little miss. And you know how much Daddy loves candy.” He said with a smile, staring into her eyes that were just like his then glancing up at you to give you a wink.

You bit down on your thumb as a smile stretched across your lips and you could feel yourself blushing.

“BILLY!!” You playfully scolded him.

He chuckled. “Oh she doesn’t know what it means, sweet girl.”

A deep voice boomed from the back of the room. “She may not know but the rest of us do, Bill.”

It was Frank.

“Now stop poisoning my goddaughter’s ears with your filth…Come here, sweetheart.” He said sarcastically with his arms outstretched.

Little Raven jumped out of her stroller and ran right to Big Raven who scooped her up and started to playfully bite her neck.

Anna let out a loud belly laugh.

“What’s Santa gonna bring you, little Raven?” Frank asked her.

Billy held you close to his chest, kissed the top of your head and said, “Go ahead, baby girl. Tell Uncle Frankie what you told Santa you’d like for Christmas.”

Anna smiled and eagerly said, “A JEEP!!!”

Billy told Frank all about Anna’s first encounter with Santa. She was nearly four and wanted to see how she would react seeing Santa for the first time. She had no fear…didn’t even turn around to look at you or Billy but went right up to him and told him she wanted a Jeep for Christmas.

For the past couple of months, Anna had been fascinated by Jeeps. She had seen a picture of Billy sitting in one from his time in the Marines and since then, she has not stop talking about it.

As Anna made her daily rounds to gather her snacks and stickers, Billy asked Frank if he wanted to help him put her Jeep together after Anna goes to bed on Christmas Eve.

The Castle family was coming over for dinner tomorrow night and you were looking forward to seeing Maria and the kids plus there was always a possibility of a show when Billy and Frank worked on anything together.

“A Jeep?!! Well, have you been a good girl this year?” Frank asked, picking her up again.

Anna nodded. “Yes I have Uncle Frankie.”

Billy loved to joke with Anna all the time, you did too but he did it pretty often and you accepted the fact that you were probably raising a sarcastic asshole but at least she would be a polite one and you didn’t doubt she would be able to take care of herself as she got older.

“You sure about that, little miss? Mommy said you didn’t eat all your vegetables last night.” Billy joked.

You cracked a smile and playfully slapped Billy on the shoulder. “Don’t tease her, Billy.” You turned your attention to Frank. “So, we’ll see you guys tomorrow night, right?”

“We’ll be there.” Said Frank.

“Great, see you tomorrow…” You turned back to Billy, wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close for a kiss. “And I’ll see you later, handsome.”

“Does Mommy still taste like candy, Daddy?” Anna said with a wide smile.

Billy smiled warmly looking down at you and kissed you again. “Every time, baby girl. Every…time.”

**********

Flurries of snow floated down past the window in back of the Christmas tree. You couldn’t remember the last time it actually snowed on Christmas Eve.

Frank and Billy were just about finished with cleaning up dinner, each of them with a dish towel draped over their shoulders, and bickering with each other about where things go while you and Maria finished playing a game of chess.

Frank Jr. and Lisa played with Anna all night, they really did treat her like a little sister, and it was so cute to watch.

Maria wanted to give Anna her bath. It was a big help and she loved doing it because she sometimes missed having little ones around. Anna ran out of her room wearing her new Christmas pajamas and Maria chased after her.

You made sure to remind Anna to put out milk and cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer.

“Can I have one of those cookies?” Asked Billy.

Anna giggled. “No Daddy, they’re for Santa!” She exclaimed.

“Ok baby girl, time for bed. Now you gotta go to sleep otherwise Santa won’t come, so say goodnight to Lisa and Junior…” Anna gave them hugs and kisses. “And say goodnight to Auntie Maria and Big Raven.”

“Goodnight little Raven…you get some good sleep, yeah?” Frank said.

“Ok Uncle Frankie.” Said Anna.

You put Anna to bed, put out coffee and desserts and you and Maria waited for the show to start. Billy brought out the Jeep box, his tools, and he and Frank went to work while you and Maria sat back and watched.

Billy has always been very organized, everything has its place, his studio is always neat and clean so it didn’t surprise you when he removed everything from the box and started to group certain pieces together and separate all of the hardware.

But whatever Billy took out of the box, Frank picked up and tried to start fitting pieces together, he just wasn’t AS neat and organized as Billy was…it made you and Maria laugh all the same though. Even Junior and Lisa were laughing at their dad and uncle.

A few days prior, you mentioned to Maria that Billy was going to ask Frank to help him put the Jeep together for Anna. He thought it would be a fun project for the two of them to do together but you decided, behind their backs, to make a little bit of a drinking game out of it.

With the exception of Frank, no one knew Billy better than you did and no one knew Frank better than Maria.

You both knew how they operated, their mannerisms, their sayings, and just how they were when they interacted with each other so you traded sayings back and forth that you knew they would use on each other and every time they said one, the two of you would take a sip of your wine.

“That’s not where that goes, Frankie.” Said Billy.

Sip

“What are you talkin’ about?! Of course that’s where it goes.” Frank bellowed.

Sip

“Just hand me that piece over there, please! No, not that one…the one next to it!” Billy said, getting frustrated. “Oh we both know that you can’t put a sticker on straight to save your life, I’m doing that.”

Sip

“You tightened that, yeah? Show me…” Frank said.

Sip

“You two are enjoying this, aren’t ya.” Billy said with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes.

Sip

You turned to Maria and asked with a smile. “More wine?”

Maria giggled with Frank glaring at her and shaking his head back and forth. You just smiled at Billy, only mocking him a little bit, “I love you!”

Billy tapped Frank on the shoulder, “I think you’re gonna hafta carry Maria outta here.” He said, his slight New York accent peeking through.

Lisa and Junior fell asleep on the couch while watching Christmas Vacation, two empty bottles of wine were resting on the coffee table next to small plates of half eaten cookies, and discarded wrapping paper from the kid’s gifts. It had been such a fun night with really good friends.

“Looks like you two are almost done…Anna’s gonna love that.” You said.

You watched as Anna’s father and godfather put the finishing touches on her Jeep, Billy took the stickers away from Frank, and made sure to charge the battery so it would be ready to go tomorrow morning. When you looked at the clock, it was a few minutes before midnight. It will be Christmas soon.

“There’s two celebratory beers waiting for you two in the fridge when you’re all done.” You said with a warm smile.

“Yeah? You sure you didn’t drink those too?” Frank joked.

Maria quipped back, “I make no promises.”

Billy was such a perfectionist. He knew his little girl would be riding around in it and even though it didn’t go really fast, he still made sure it was as safe as possible by double checking everything.

“Looks ready to go.” Said Billy.

Finally, Frank added a large red bow to the hood and an oversized gift tag that said “From Santa” and you handed Billy and Frank their celebratory drinks.

“Cheers, Frankie.”

“We did it, Bill.” Frank said, clinking the bottles together.

The clock said 12:05.

“So close, you ALMOST finished before Christmas morning.” You said.

Billy pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head. “Hey as long as we finished before the little miss wakes up, I call that a win.”

“Damn right.” Said Frank.

“Merry Christmas, sweet girl.” Billy said gazing down at you with his beautiful onyx colored eyes…Anna had the same color eyes.

He cupped your cheeks and smiled just before touching his lips to yours, you felt butterflies in your stomach as if it was the first time he was kissing you, and never failed to show you how deep his love was for you in that kiss. His kiss was always meant to be yours.

“Merry Christmas, handsome. I love you. And Merry Christmas, Castle Family! Wake up kids!Your dad and uncle Billy finished the Jeep.” You said, trying to keep your voice low so as to not wake up Anna.

“Looks good, Dad.” Said Lisa.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Your uncle helped too.” Joked Frank.

Billy couldn’t help but let out a little laugh.

After cleaning up all of the cardboard, Maria and Frank gathered their gifts and the gifts you and Billy gave the kids, and after a handful of goodbyes and thank you’s, they headed for home. Maria reminded you to take a video of little Raven’s reaction to her new wheels.

As soon as you closed the door, Billy’s lips collided with yours, his hands migrating from your cheeks down your neck to the buttons on your shirt as he parted your lips with his tongue. The man was still crazy about you after all this time and you were still head over heels in love with him.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night, baby.” He whispered in your ear.

Your mouth split into a smile against his lips as he continued to kiss you, the scent of green soap still clung to him from working at the studio earlier in the day and you could taste the citrus from the beer on his lips.

His body heat was warm against your chest, the kisses he placed up and down your neck made your core flutter and turned you on. You wanted to have him right now.

As soon as you started to pull his shirt from his jeans, you realized you still had to put out the rest of Anna’s gifts. Breathing heavily, you pulled away from him even though it killed you to do so, it had been a little while since you and Billy had any alone time together. The holiday season had been a busy one.

“Billy…Billy…wait…” You purred into his ear.

You watched your hand rise up and down on his chest as he panted, trying to catch his breath.

“W-what is it, beautiful? I thought we were…uh, ya know.” He smiled and winked at you.

It was so hard to resist him when he looked at you like that, the desire he had in his eyes, and the way he touched you…he knew what he was doing and how hard it was to say no to him but you resisted.

You snaked your arms around his neck and pulled his face toward yours until your foreheads were touching.

“I’m so sorry, my love…we still have to put out the rest of Anna’s presents and fill her stocking.If we continue what we’re doing, you know that’s not happening so we really have to do that first.” You said, disappointingly.

Billy kissed you on the forehead again, he always did that to comfort you or to help you relax.

He knew this month had been draining on you both, trying to get everything done while trying to work and take care of a little one.

“Ok sweet girl, let’s get this done.” He said as he gave you a quick kiss on the lips.

You started to walk toward your bedroom.

“I’ll get the rest of the gifts from the closet…you eat the cookies and write her a note ‘from Santa.’” You said, pointing at the cookies resting on the little end table.

“Why do I have to eat the cookies?” Asked Billy with a sly smile.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Oh please, you’ve been eyeing those cookies all night, Billy Russo. And I know all about how much you love sweet things.” You said with a wink.

“Well for the record, my love…I’d rather be eating you for dessert.” The corners of his mouth curled up into a wicked smile while he raised his eyebrows at you.

Feeling yourself starting to blush, you scolded him in a lighthearted tone. “Get to work, lieutenant.”

“Yes ma’am.” Billy replied.

Your second wind came at a perfect time, you managed to finish everything you needed to before going to bed and you relieved some of each other’s stress when you were in bed. Instead of rushing, like it had been with the two of you lately, Billy took his time with you.

He probably kissed every inch of your body, exploring it like he had when you first got together, telling you over and over how much he loved you and how you were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

You probably had the most restful sleep you’ve had in the past three weeks that night, the bristles of Billy’s beard brushing against your bare shoulder as you drifted off to sleep, excited to see the look on your little girl’s face when she sees her new Jeep, and excited to give Billy his gifts too.

Little did you know, Billy had a special gift for you also that he could not wait to give you.

Christmas Morning

One thing that Anna Raven did NOT have in common with her father was being light on her feet. You had converted her crib into a daybed so she could climb in and out by herself which also meant she could rush down the hallway and burst into your bedroom whenever she wanted to.

And now that you were a mom, you were tuned in to when she got in and out of bed so when you heard her little feet hit the floor, you made sure you were covered.

You had fallen asleep rather quickly after last night’s after hour’s activities, Billy had also so he was still asleep when you heard the pitter patter of her tiny feet scurrying down the hall.

Although you were used to getting up early since becoming a mom, waking up early on a morning when you didn’t have to was difficult but waking up this morning was exciting. You couldn’t wait to give your husband and your daughter a nice Christmas.

The bedroom door knob turned and little Raven practically fell through the door, she was so excited. “Mommy!! It’s Christmas! Wake up, Daddy!”

Watching her smile almost brought tears to your eyes. “Merry Christmas, baby!”

Billy must have been sleeping hard, which usually doesn’t happen, because he sat bolt upright in bed.

“What?! What happened?!” He exclaimed and his head hit the pillow again as he fell backwards.

Anna grabbed your hand. “Come on, Mommy!” She said, trying to pull you out of bed.

“Ok, ok Anna…we’re up. Can you go wait out in the hallway for one minute, please? Then we’ll go see if Santa came.” You said, in the middle of a yawn.

Anna was jumping up and down, she was so excited. “Hurry, Mommy!”

She ran out into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

“Come on, stud…let’s go.” You leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

Billy’s eyes were still closed but a smile stretched across his lips. “Gimme one more kiss, sweet girl…please?” He pleaded.

Slowly, Billy opened his eyes, brushed a stray hair away from your eyes as you inched your face closer to his and smiled warmly before you gently pressed your lips to his once again.

“I love you so much, Billy…Merry Christmas, my love.” You whispered against his mouth.

“Merry Christmas, my little firecracker. I love you too…more than anything.” He replied.

You could hear muffled sounds coming from the bottom of the door as Anna’s little fingers darted into the room from underneath the door. “Puhleeeeease come out, Mommy!”

After quickly throwing on some lounge clothes, you told Anna to back away from the door so you could open it.

“Let’s go! We have to check your cookies too, little miss.” Billy said.

You and Billy quickly followed Anna to the living room. The Jeep looked even better in the natural light and Anna noticed it right away.

She let out a high pitched squeal and ran over to it. “Is this my Jeep, Daddy?!” She asked full of excitement.

“Well, let’s look at the tag…It says ‘To Anna…From Santa…’ It looks like it is, little Raven.” He said. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

Anna climbed into the driver’s side and put her hands on the steering wheel. She had pure joy all over her face and it made this moment better than you could have ever hoped for.

“YES!! It’s like the one you were sitting in, Daddy!” She said excitedly.

“That’s why she wanted a Jeep? I thought she just saw one while you were out one day, I didn’t know…” Billy said to you with a slight hitch in his voice, his shoulders dropped and he inhaled sharply.

You closed the gap between the two of you, gazing at his wild brown hair, his beautiful obsidian colored eyes and you leaned in to softly press your lips to his.

“Our little girl loves her Daddy.” You whispered against his mouth as he looked over at Anna and then brought his gaze back to you.

Billy wrapped his long slender fingers around the back of your neck and pulled you even closer until his lips crashed onto yours. His kisses always made you feel so loved and cherished, more than anyone ever has and no one else will ever have your heart.

Although it was a little difficult, Anna wanted to drive her Jeep around the apartment and after she did that, you let her take it for a drive outside the apartment in the hallway. She was having such a good time while you took photos and a few videos to send to Maria and Frank which they thoroughly enjoyed.

It was challenging not to go crazy buying gifts for her because she was so much fun to shop for but you didn’t want to spoil her too much. Her Jeep was her big present though and she received a few other new toys, books, and clothes.

Christmas morning had been so relaxing so far. Watching Anna open her gifts, playing with her toys and the three of you having breakfast together pushed the stress you felt all month further away, just as lying in Billy’s arms last night had done wonders for you too.

You loved your little family so much.

Sipping your coffee on the couch, you noticed Billy whispering in Anna’s ear. What was he up to? He gave you your presents already and you gave him his, though he could be sneaky when he wanted to be.

You smiled nervously as little Raven wandered over holding something behind her back and had a smile stretched across her face from ear to ear.

She stopped in front of you as you leaned down so you were eye level with her. From behind her back, she pulled out a small black velvet box.

“Merry Christmas, Mommy. It’s from Daddy.” She said leaning in for a kiss on the lips. You gave her a quick kiss and she said, “She does taste like candy, Daddy!” She was just tasting the peppermint mocha coffee creamer but you weren’t going to say anything.

“What is this?” You asked. “I thought we opened all of our presents?”

Billy's lips curled up into his perfect smile. “Well you have one more, sweet girl. It’s something I’ve been meaning to give you for a long time even though you said you didn’t need one.”

You still didn’t know what it could be so with slightly trembling fingers, you opened the box and inside was a beautiful diamond ring, an engagement ring.

When Billy asked you to marry him, he didn’t have a ring to give you and on your wedding day the two of you exchanged wedding bands but he promised when he had the money, he would buy you the ring of your dreams. You told him that you had a wedding band and didn’t need an engagement ring but that wasn’t good enough for him.

And now the two of you were both making more money, living comfortably, and providing for each other along with providing for little Raven. He could finally keep his promise and buy you the ring you’ve always wanted.

It was an oval solitaire with smaller diamonds all around the band which matched your wedding ring. You were left speechless, it was so unexpected and it brought tears to your eyes. He didn’t have to do this.

“Billy…you…really…” You said, swiping the tear away from your cheek. “It’s so beautiful, you really didn’t have to do this, baby.”

He stood up, his long legs took him right to you and sat down next to you on the couch. The mid-morning sun bounced off the top of the diamond and it sparkled against the ceiling as he took it out of the box and held it between his fingers. Billy doesn’t normally get nervous but his fingers were shaking slightly as his eyes darted from the ring to your eyes.

“Yes I did.” He replied. “What do ya say, baby? Can I still be your husband?”

A tear streaked down your cheek, both Billy and

Anna were smiling the exact same smile at you as you answered him.

“Of course you can, handsome.”

You almost didn’t finish getting the words out when his lips collided with yours, he slid the ring down your finger so it rested against your wedding ring.

They looked beautiful together.

Your thumbs brushed against Billy’s beard as he drew you in close again, he always kept you as close as possible and suddenly you were in his lap, his hands brushing the soft fabric of your t-shirt and migrating under the t-shirt to touch the supple skin of your lower back.

The two of you almost forgot Anna was there when she chimed in.

“Mommy, I already know what I’m gonna ask Santa for next Christmas.” She said with conviction.

Billy kissed your forehead. You looked at each other as if to silently say “Well this should be good. I can’t wait to hear this.”

“Oh really? Ok, so what are you gonna ask Santa for next year, Anna?” You asked her, taking a sip of your coffee.

She bit down on her lower lip, jumped, clapped her hands together and said, “Do you think he could bring me a sister?”

It took a minute before you could recover from the coughing fit after choking a little on your coffee.

“Y-you want a sister for Christmas next year, little miss?” Billy asked.

Anna looked at you and Billy with her beautiful brown eyes and replied, “Uncle Frankie said I should ask Santa for a sister next year.”

She was so innocent and you couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Billy said, also cracking a smile.

You laced your fingers with his, kissed him on the cheek, turned to Anna and said,

“Well baby girl, it can’t hurt to ask.”

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #tattoo artist billy russo x reader #billy russo au #the sweetest pain #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x you

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