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rynbutt · 1 day

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safe. | spencer reid.

You were pregnant but JJ had just left the team and they needed you. You hadn't told anyone; you hadn't even told Spencer.

my masterlist!

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, guns, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of drugs (antidepressants and opioids), mentions of car accident, gunshot wounds, death of pregnant woman, general criminal minds themes.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: bruh this was a looooong one! dw some banging smut coming in the next one with post-prison reid >:3

now playing... Fare Well by Hozier

This was really starting to piss you off.

You fell to your knees as bile pushed up your throat, your skin paling as you vomited for the third time today. You tried to keep something, anything, down but you would just wind up curled in on yourself and sweating in the corner of the bathroom stall. You ate a couple of crackers and sipped on water to keep your empty stomach satiated– But you always ended up right back here on the bathroom floor with your head between your knees trying to will the pain away.

Emily noticed your pale complexion and how exhausted you looked, offering to get you some medicine or ask Hotch about sitting out of the next few cases. You told her you were fine, that it was just stress. That answer seemed to satisfy her enough, though she wasn’t fully convinced. To be fair, your workload had increased tenfold since JJ was forced to accept the job at the Pentagon, and you missed her terribly but you were proud of her. But you really could have used her advice right about now.

Because you swore this baby had it out for you.

You found out you were pregnant just over a week ago and you still hadn’t told Spencer. You were still wrapping your head around the whole thing because initially, you didn’t think you were pregnant, you just thought your body was dealing with the stress and workload in, frankly, a bizarre way. Hotch had wanted you to take over doing JJ’s job as communication liaison, which were rather important shoes to fill. He had total faith in your ability to do JJ’s job as well as do your own as a profiler, but you weren’t so sure anymore.

You would tell Spencer when you were ready and right now was not a good time. Everyone was surviving on four hours of sleep a night, far too many cups of coffee and sheer willpower. The absolute last thing they needed was to lose another team member. So you soldiered on like a champion– a champion who still held her head over the bureau’s less than impressive toilet while she threw her guts up.

“Y/N?” You didn’t even hear the bathroom door open, the ringing rattling around your skull distracting you from your surroundings. Penelope’s heels clicked against the tiles as she cautiously peered around the wall of the last stall where you kneeled on the ground. “Oh my god, sweet thing! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Pen,” your voice was hoarse when you finally replied. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and tried to smooth your hair down, attempting to look at least semi-presentable before you left the bathroom to pretend everything was okay.

“No, no, my girl, you are not fine!” Penelope stood in behind you, pulling your hair out of your face as you vomited the last remnant of your soul into the toilet. “You need to talk to Hotch, you’ve got a bug or something, my dear. You shouldn’t even be at work when you’re this sick, let me talk to him for you and you just go home–”

“I’m not sick, Penelope!” You didn’t mean to shout at her, you really didn’t, you just felt awful and felt like a shell of yourself with how poorly you’d been sleeping and eating paired with all the stress of doing JJ’s job as well as your own. It was just a lot.

Penelope went quiet but stayed close to you, still holding your hair as you sat back on your heels, running your hands down your face. She let out a soft sigh, knowing you didn’t mean to shout at her. Penelope was stressed too– everyone was.

“I’m sorry, Pen,” you mumbled, your throat hurting from all the vomiting and coughing you’d managed to do today– it had to be a record honestly.

Penelope just shook her head at you, reaching her hand out toward you, “you don’t have to apologise, sweet girl, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You shook your head, you still felt bad and shouting at sweet Penelope was not the way to deal with all the emotions swirling around in your head.

“It’s not fair,” you replied as she helped you to your feet, gently guiding you over to the basin to help you clean yourself up. “You’re stressed too, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Penelope brushed some of your hair out of your face, her gaze narrowing as she watched you, waiting for you to tell her what was going on. It never came and she knew she would have to push you a little. Penelope thought it was necessary though because seeing you like this was awful and she couldn’t even imagine how Spencer would react if he knew how sick you were.

“What’s going on?” Penelope’s voice was soft; gentle, just trying to get you to talk so she could help. You were stubborn when it came to asking for help and by the time you did, you had hurt yourself more than necessary trying to solve it yourself. Not this time though– Penelope refused.

“I’m okay–” you looked at Penelope and she raised her brows at you, not accepting that answer in the slightest. You sighed, knowing this is a fight you wouldn’t win. “I’m pregnant.”

Penelope’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She knew something was up with you but pregnant? That was not on this year's bingo card. “What?? Y/N that’s–” she gauged your expression and she really couldn’t tell if you were upset or happy about being pregnant. She cut herself off before she finished her sentence, pulling her lips into a line. “Are we happy about this news or are we…?”

“We’re…” you were happy. Honestly, you were. You and Spencer had talked about having kids one day, ideally after you were married but that didn’t seem to be going to plan. You’d been with Spencer for three years, in the BAU for four, it’s not like your relationship was new or in the honeymoon phase, it just wasn’t the original plan and that scared the hell out of you. But you were happy to be carrying his child– the timing was just piss poor. “We’re happy… just scared.”

“Oh, baby,” Penelope cooed. “Of course you’re scared, it’s a huge adjustment. But I know you and I know Spencer, you guys will nail this parenting business.” Penelope managed to prove time and time again why she was your best friend. You often wondered if she knew you better than you knew yourself, which wouldn’t really surprise you given her job.

“I hope so.” You smiled softly, feeling somewhat human again after splashing water on your face and washing your hands. You knew Spencer would be a good dad, he was so good with kids and he was so gentle and patient with you. He was meant to be a dad. You just weren’t sure if you were meant to be a mother. You wanted to be a family with Spencer, it made you feel warm just thinking about it, but you were a person who worried about almost everything, even the things out of your control. What scared you was how in control you were.

“I’m surprised Spencer hasn’t told everyone, that boy is obsessed with you and you’re making him a dad? God, it must be killing him sitting on this–” Penelope suddenly looked at you wide-eyed, connecting the dots all on her own. You winced as you watched her figure it out, gritting your teeth as she let out a soft gasp. “You haven’t told him?!”

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a muffled squeal of frustration into your palms. You would tell him eventually, just not right now, he was far too busy and was already stressing about his own workload, you couldn’t imagine how much more stressed he would be if he found out you were still in the field while pregnant.

“Pen, please,” you turned to her, “please keep this to yourself. I– We can’t deal with this right now. JJ’s gone and everyone is worked to the bone, I can’t do this to everyone right now, especially Spencer.” Penelope looked at you sympathetically, you knew you were asking a lot of her to keep it to herself, especially when Penelope wasn’t great at keeping secrets.

“Y/N, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell them eventually– You’re an FBI Agent. Being in the field is so dangerous and you don’t just have yourself to think about anymore.” You knew Penelope was right. You carried a gun around for Christ’s sake, you literally hunted down serial killers, active shooters, total psychopaths and everything in between. The field was no place for a pregnant woman.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, resting both of your hands on the basin in front of you.

“...How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you said softly, resting your hand against your belly. You didn’t have much of a bump yet but you were sure it would sneak up on you before you even realised. Lucky for you, you wore a lot of baggy sweaters around the office so you had some wriggle room when it came to hiding it.

“...My money’s on a girl,” Penelope was trying to make you feel better. She really was helping because the idea of Spencer hosting tea parties, getting covered in kitten stickers and his hair being covered in tiny butterfly clips made your heart swell.

You let out a soft laugh, “I think so too.”

“Alright, my love, I think we should leave this bathroom before they send out a search party,” Penelope laughed, linking her arm with yours to guide you out of the bathroom.

You honestly did feel better after talking to Penelope and throwing the rest of your guts up. She made sure to remind you about ten times to call her if you needed anything, you promised you would because it did make you feel better knowing that someone knew about your pregnancy and you didn’t have to bear the weight of the news alone.

You sat down at your desk with a sigh, sipping on your water bottle to soothe your raw throat. You popped a piece of gum in your mouth, willing the taste of bile away. You let out a huff of air as you stared down at all the paperwork you had to do. Doing JJ’s job proved to be intense, especially when you were doing your own work on top of her’s. You picked up your pen when you felt Spencer press a kiss to the crown of your head as he placed a mug of hot coffee on your desk in front of you.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. Spencer took the opportunity to kiss you softly, one of his hands resting on the side of your desk while the other rested on the back of your chair. You smiled against his lips, “shouldn’t you be working?” You teased.

“Are you trying to get me to go away?” Spencer looked at you curiously. You rolled your eyes playfully because of course you didn’t want him to go away. If anything, you wanted him to pick you up and take you home right this second.

“Yes, Spencer,” you replied sarcastically, “I’m trying to get you to go away.” Spencer wasn’t great with sarcasm but he had come to understand your humour over the years. He just grinned and pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Sarcasm is rooted in truth, angel,” Spencer retorted with a gentle smile.

“I am joking, but we both have a lot of work to do, Spence. I don’t know how I’m going to manage doing JJ’s job as well as my own,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“There’s a reason Hotch wanted you to do it. I don’t think he could have picked anyone more capable,” Spencer replied. Maybe it was the hormones and the fact you were carrying a baby, but the comment made you want to cry. Spencer frowned as he watched your face fall, “what’s wrong, angel?”

“No, nothing,” You replied, sniffling quietly. You gave him a genuine smile, “I’m fine, Spence. I promise–”

“New case just came in,” Morgan called to the two of you, gesturing toward the meeting room at the back of the office with a manila folder in his hand.

You looked at Morgan with a confused expression because now it was your job to decide what cases the team took after JJ’s departure. Morgan told you the case went straight to Hotch this time; an old friend had called in a favour.

Spencer pulled a chair out for you, taking the seat right beside you in the meeting room. You opened the case file the moment Penelope dropped it in front of you.

“The victims are 20-year-old Evan Miller and 21-year-old Daniel Clark, both engineering students at Caltech. They were shot three days apart outside their family homes in the local area of Pasadena, California.” You followed along with Penelope as she gave a run down of the victims and the circumstances of their deaths.

The killings were straightforward, the UnSub didn’t try to dispose of the bodies and the men were simply shot in the head execution style. It didn’t seem like the doings of a serial killer who would usually seek some kind of sexual release from torturing and killing their victims. If anything, it seemed like revenge killings.

“They were just shot?” Emily questioned, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the crime scene photos.

“Once in the head,” Hotch replied, “there were no witnesses around which suggests the UnSub knew the routine of the victims and the neighbourhood.”

“Could be a stalker?” Penelope suggested.

“Stalker victims are usually the object of a stalker’s affection, they rarely act in violence let alone such a blunt killing,” You replied, confused by the nature of such a straightforward murder.

Spencer flicked through the victim’s files, “the single shot to the head suggests the UnSub just wanted them dead. No physical evidence of sexual release or torture… This could be some kind of revenge killing.”

“Did these victims know each other?” You asked.

“According to their parents, they came from the same friend group,” Penelope replied.

“Wheels up in thirty. Garcia, you're coming with us. Get your go bag,” Hotch said, quickly standing up from his chair. Penelope made a small noise of surprise before quickly ushering out of the meeting room. Hotch didn’t usually have Penelope come along but given you were short a very valuable member of your team, Penelope had started coming along more often. Not that you would ever complain having Penelope around.

You pinned up the last of the crime scene photos on the board, standing back with your hands on your hips. Spencer was writing on the whiteboard next to you, jotting down all the things you knew about the victims and possible motives of the UnSub. Hotch and Morgan were engaging in formalities with the local detectives on the case while Penelope got herself settled in the makeshift office they had set up for the team.

“The parents of the victims are here,” Emily poked her head into the office. “Y/N, Hotch wants you to talk to Ben and Sarah Miller, I’ve got the Clarks.”

“Alright, I got it,” you replied, letting out a dejected sigh.

“You okay?” Spencer gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear, turning his full attention to you. You let out another sigh, nodding your head tiredly. “You can do this,” he said quietly, his eyes shifting between yours.

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled softly. Spencer planted a soft kiss on your cheek before leaving the office, leaving Spencer and Penelope alone.

“...I think she needs a break,” Penelope said after a beat.

Spencer looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, “what makes you say that?”

Penelope tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, “she’s doing JJ’s job and her own. I mean, I think she’s the right girl for the job but… you know what she’s like.”

Spencer sighed, he knew exactly what you were like. You always held yourself and your work to such a high standard and you often overworked yourself to make everyone happy. “Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to her when we get back to the hotel.”

“I think that’s a great idea, lover boy,” Penelope grinned.

You opened the office door, files in hand. Mr and Mrs Miller immediately stood up as you entered and you gave them a sympathetic smile. Mrs Miller had clearly been crying, still clutching a tissue in her hand while her husband paced around the office.

“Please, have a seat, Mr Miller,” you said gently.

“I’ll stand,” he replied firmly. You decided not to argue and sat down on the chair opposite the couch where Mrs Miller sat.

“Mrs Miller, I’m Agent L/N, I’m with the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the FBI–”

“FBI?” She questioned. “Was Evan in trouble?”

“We suspect he and his friend Daniel were killed by the same person,” you explained. Mrs Miller let out a soft gasp, her hand coming to rest over her mouth.

“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions about Evan?” You asked. Sarah didn’t say anything but she nodded her head, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Daniel and Evan knew each other, right?”

“They went to high school together,” Sarah replied, her voice shaking. “They were so excited when they both got into Caltech,” she smiled sadly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“Do you have any idea who killed our son?” Ben asked, his voice sounding angry.

“That’s what we’re here for,” you said, “we’re here to find who killed your son and why–”

“‘Why”?” Ben repeated, “he was just a kid.”

You sighed softly, “I understand that, sir. We’re just trying to figure out a possible connection.”

“Evan and Daniel were good kids. They would never hurt a fly,” Sarah frowned, sniffling softly as she began crying again.

“Did Daniel and Evan hang around the same social groups?” You asked, turning your attention to Mr Miller, who was still pacing around the office with his arms crossed. “Maybe in some kind of extracurricular activities?”

“They were both on the college basketball team,” Ben said after a beat. “Why? You think this asshole is going to kill more of these kids?”

“I am just trying to get an idea of the social groups Evan and Daniel were a part of,” you didn’t want to get into the gory details of why you were asking such questions and decided they were both far too emotional for you to keep asking them questions; you would let Hotch handle it. “I need to speak with my team but I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” You rested a hand on Mrs Miller’s shoulder and you couldn’t shake how much you missed JJ doing this part.

You let out a sigh as you left the office, rubbing the tension in the back of your neck. You slowly walked over to Hotch, “Evan was on the Caltech Basketball team, he and Daniel went to high school together and Evan’s parents were adamant he was a good kid. I think he was a good kid, just got involved with the wrong people.”

Hotch let out a breath, “I want you and Prentiss to go to the school, talk to the faculty, basketball team coach, anything you can get.”

You nodded, gesturing to Emily on the other side of the bullpen. She firmly nodded at you and the two of you left for the school.

The team worked the case for two days before another body showed up. Everyone was starting early and finishing late to find the person who was doing this and you worked closely with the detectives and other officers on the case. Hotch gave the profile as soon as the team was certain but given the demographic of the suburban areas he was targeting these boys, it was rather unremarkable. The third body belonged to 21-year-old Oliver Marsh, another Caltech student studying Physics. He was shot once in the head while walking his dog no further than a block from his house.

You stood in the middle of Oliver’s bedroom staring at the posters and certificates that littered his walls. Spencer rifled through papers on his desk, mostly finding papers related to physics journals and essays for school. Emily and David were downstairs talking to the parents while Hotch and Morgan went to see the crime scene.

You walked over to his bedside table pulling it open. There were a lot of birthday cards and a game boy but what caught your attention was the little clear yellow bottles with white caps. You lifted the first bottle out, reading the label–

“Oliver was taking Oxycodone,” you said softly, catching Spencer’s attention. “...And Escitalopram,” you spun on your heel, showing Spencer the two bottles. Spencer took the bottles from your hands, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully read the labels. “Chronic pain?” you suggested.

“Could be,” Spencer replied. “He could have been taking non-steroidal anti-inflammatories too, they’re typically over the counter.”

You rifled through the drawer again, pulling out a blue box, “Yeah, he was taking Ibuprofen too.”

“We should talk to the parents,” Spencer said. You nodded and the two of you ushered down the stairs to where his parents sat in the living room with David and Emily. “Was Oliver suffering from chronic pain?” Spencer quickly questioned before he even fully made it into the living room.

Oliver’s mother held a tissue to her nose, glancing at Emily with a confused expression. You put your hand on Spencer’s bicep, “Has Oliver injured himself recently? Maybe a fall or injury while playing sports?”

Oliver’s father shook his head, “No, not recently. He’s been on those antidepressants for a few years and takes the codeine when he has– had flare-ups.”

“Flare-ups?” David asked pointedly.

“He was in a car accident four years ago,” Mrs Marsh said, “He was in the passenger seat and was in a coma for two weeks… he hadn’t really been the same after that, got really sad and antisocial… he was in a lot of pain too.”

“He had to stop playing Football and running track, his body just couldn’t keep up,” Mr Marsh added, his eyes glazing over. “He lost a lot of friends, I don’t think I ever saw him hang out with anyone, Physics became everything to him.”

“Do you have evidence of his medical records anywhere?” Spencer asked. “Just so I can look them over.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Mrs Marsh stood up, Spencer following her to their home office on the other side of the house.

You sat down across from Mr Marsh, “The accident he was in,” you started, “what happened?”

He looked at you with a pain in his eyes, “He was in the car with some of his friends and they were driving home from a party and it was late. I think they were all…” he hesitated for a moment, “they were all drunk.”

“Who was in the car?” Emily asked, not liking where this was going.

“...Evan Miller and Daniel Clark,” his father began to cry, holding his hand over his mouth. You felt your eyes widen, this was a revenge killing.

“Who was driving, Mr Marsh?” David asked quickly.

“Um, god–” He sniffled softly, “Peter… Peter something, he was older than them, I really don’t remember.”

“Thank you, Mr Marsh,” You stood up, quickly moving to the front door to call Penelope. You pulled out your phone, dialling her number. She picked up after the first ring.

“How may I be of service, oh queen of my country?” she sang, her fingers typing furiously against her keyboard.

“I need you to look into an accident for me, four years ago,” you said with your hand on your hip. “Oliver Marsh, Daniel Clark and Evan Miller were all in the accident too. See if you can find newspaper articles, news segments, anything– I think we know who the last target is.”

“Right, give me a moment,” Penelope replied. You heard her typing before she stopped, “Oh no…” she mumbled softly.

“What’s wrong, Pen?” You furrowed your brows.

“Peter Harvey,” Penelope sighed, “he’s the last boy… He was driving with three other high school boys; Oliver, Daniel and Evan when they struck an oncoming car and killed a pregnant woman on impact; her husband walked away without a scratch.”

“Shit.” You cursed, “What’s his name?”

“Jonathan Hughes, his wife was Katherine… she was 8 months pregnant, Y/N.” Penelope sounded so pained and you knew she was thinking of you and the small baby you were carrying. “Y/N…”

“I know, Pen… After this case wraps up… I’ll tell everyone,” you replied with a gentle sigh.

“And you’ll take time off?” Penelope sounded like she was lecturing you.

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah, Penelope. I’ll take some time off.”

“Okay… I’ll send Hotch and Morgan Jonathan’s last known address, I’m sending you Peter Harvey’s address–”

Your phone beeped as Penelope sent the address through. “Where would I be without you, Pen?”

“Nowhere good, my love,” you could hear the smile in her voice. You quickly hung up before walking back into the Marsh’s house.

Emily and David turned to look at you, “We’ve got him.”

“Alright, you guys go, I’ll grab Reid and we’ll be right behind you,” David waved you off and Emily quickly ushered the two of you to the car.

Emily was speeding toward the address Penelope had given you while you called Hotch and Morgan, filling them in on all the information Penelope had given you. They agreed to go to Jonathan’s address to hopefully intersect him before he left for Peter Harvey. You were always nervous when it came to these parts of the case because you couldn’t control the outcome no matter how hard you tried. A grieving man was going around killing these young men and while it was awful what he was doing; you could sympathise with him and the pain he was feeling over losing his wife and unborn child.

You instinctively rested a hand over your belly, your thumb stroking the small curve. You couldn’t even imagine how much pain Spencer would be in if he lost you, let alone your child too. You would tell him and you would ask Hotch about taking some time off later in your pregnancy and sitting out of cases like this.

“Shit he’s already here,” Emily cursed when she noticed Jonathan’s SUV parked a couple of blocks from Peter’s address. “Call Hotch.”

You dialled Hotch’s number and he picked up almost instantly, “What is it, L/N?”

“He’s already here, his SUV is parked a couple blocks down from Peter’s address. He’s already out looking for him,” You quickly said.

“We’re on our way, units are already on route,” he hung up after that.

Emily pulled the car up on the gutter, the car skidding to a stop. You immediately pushed the door open, holding your gun by your thigh as you ran across the lawn to Peter Harvey’s house. You knocked on the door and a woman answered after a beat.

“Mrs Harvey?” You asked, panting softly.

“Yes?”

“Is your son Peter here?”

“No, he went to the store down the street an hour ago, he should be back soon… What is this about?” She asked, her hand gripping the door in concern.

“We believe someone dangerous may be looking for your son,” Emily said. Mrs Harvey rested her hand over her mouth, a soft gasp leaving her lips.

“Mom?” You spun around and Peter stood with a plastic bag of groceries in his hand in the middle of the lawn.

It all happened almost in slow motion. You saw a figure wearing dark clothes stalking across the lawn and without even thinking, you darted toward Peter as the UnSub pulled the gun out of his coat, aiming it straight at Peter’s head. You could hear Emily yelling at Mrs Harvey to go back inside before she pulled out her gun and aimed it at the UnSub; but it was too late.

You shoved Peter to the ground as he fired, feeling the shot burn through your shoulder as both you and Peter fell to the ground. You instinctively pressed a hand to your burning shoulder, warm blood oozing from the wound and through your fingers.

“Jonathan Hughes?” You said, your breathing heavy as you tried to fight through the pain. He held his gun right in front of your face.

“Move,” he grunted, his eyes glassy.

“I know what happened to your wife,” you breathed trying to stall him as more police cars with blaring sirens pulled into the street.

“They killed her,” tears streamed down his face and you honestly felt bad for him.

“It was an accident,” you replied softly.

“They were drunk,” he almost yelled, his hand shaking as his gun was still trained on you.

“I know,” you said, “It was a stupid mistake that haunted them, Jonathan. I know it doesn’t change what happened but these boys–”

“They’re monsters!” he shouted, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

You saw David and Spencer get out of the car. Spencer’s heart was in his throat when he saw you kneeled on the ground, shielding Peter with your body while your hand and shirt were covered in your own blood. He didn’t even pick up his gun as he began stalking toward you.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft when he called you at first, then it turned to outright concern and anger, “Y/N? No, no!”

David grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him back as Spencer fought against him, trying to get to you. It was irrational and it was dangerous. David quickly picked up his walkie, “An agent has been shot, we need an ambulance.”

“Who was shot?!” Penelope’s voice rang out in the car as she spoke to Morgan and Hotch.

“I repeat, agent L/N is shot, we need an ambulance,” David spoke before putting his walkie away to hold Spencer back, pulling him to the ground.

“Morgan! Oh my god!” Penelope felt tears form in her eyes.

“It’s okay, babygirl, she’s going to be alright,” Morgan said, trying to reassure her as Hotch stepped on the accelerator.

“No, Morgan, you don’t understand–”

“We’re going to get an ambulance–”

“She’s pregnant!” Penelope blurted out, not knowing what else to say for them to understand the gravity of why Penelope was so upset and concerned.

Hotch hesitated for a moment, “She’s what?”

Penelope let out a shaky breath, “she’s twelve weeks pregnant, Hotch. She wasn’t going to tell anyone until after the case– and now she’s been shot.” Penelope began to cry, holding her hand over her mouth as tears slipped from her eyes.

Hotch hadn’t sped that fast since he found out Foyet was in his house. He cared about his team a lot and he had a soft spot for you even though he wouldn’t admit it. The tires skidded along the road as Hotch pulled on the handbrake, both him and Morgan training their guns on the UnSub as they approached.

Morgan’s heart hurt at the sight of you, your skin slightly paled as blood bloomed from your shoulder, drenching your arm and your hands. You looked so scared as the UnSub trained his gun on you, unmoving. Emily had her gun aimed at the UnSub, yelling for him to put it down.

“Jonathan Hughes!” Morgan’s voice caught your attention. “Put down the gun!”

“Don’t move!” Jonathan shouted, “I’ll shoot her!”

“No you won’t, man,” Morgan shook his head.

“How do you know that!? She’s in my way!” He shouted back.

“She’s pregnant,” Morgan sighed. Your eyes widened as you looked at Morgan, who looked back at you with a sad expression.

Spencer stopped fighting against David, his breathing evening out as the words fell on his ears. You were pregnant. You were carrying his baby and you got shot and now you had a gun held up in front of your face. Spencer didn’t even realise he was crying, his tears cold against his warm skin. All he could do was watch, there was nothing he could do.

Jonathan glanced at you as you held your hand over your belly. “W-What?”

Morgan reached a hand out as he got closer. “Just like your wife, Jonathan… You wouldn’t kill a pregnant woman like those boys did.”

Jonathan seemed to dissociate, staring at you with such a hurt expression as Morgan leapt forward, grabbing the gun from Jonathan’s hands and tossing it across the grass. He pushed Jonathan to the ground, pinning his hands behind his back. You let out a breath as you felt yourself grow tired. Emily caught you before you fell the rest of the way to the ground, holding you close to her body as she screamed for a medic.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Emily gently rocked you, “you’re going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears running down your cheeks.

Your eyes were heavy as you attempted to pry them open.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally pulled your eyes open, the smell of disinfectant hit you first, followed by the sounds of beeping. You were in the hospital. You glanced down at your arm, an IV stuck in your arm while a pulse oximeter was clipped to your finger. Despite the fact the doctor had prescribed pain medication, you still felt like shit and your shoulder was killing you.

A soft noise caught your attention and you glanced at the chair next to your bed, Spencer sound asleep in a chair with a hospital blanket draped over him. You smiled softly as you saw the flowers, balloons and plushies littered around your room, most likely a courtesy of Penelope.

“She’s awake,” Morgan smiled, standing in the doorway.

You grinned at him, “Hi, Derek.”

Morgan slowly walked over to your bed. “Feeling okay, pretty girl?” Morgan gently grabbed your hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I’m okay,” you replied. You almost didn’t want to ask but you knew you had to, “...is the baby okay?”

“Your baby is fine,” Morgan replied with a soft smile. You let out a breath of relief as you placed a hand over your tummy protectively. “...You scared the life out of everyone though.”

“I know,” you sighed.

“Especially your lover boy,” Morgan said, “he hasn’t left your side.”

“Sounds like my Spencer,” you laughed softly.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was laced with sleep as he opened his eyes. He quickly got up, ditching the blanket on the floor to tend to you.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Morgan quickly said before leaving the room.

Spencer’s warm hands cupped your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I thought I lost you, Y/N.” He let out a breath, pulling away to stare at your face and stroke your cheeks with his thumbs. You reached a hand up to grip his forearm.

“I’m sorry–”

“You don’t need to–”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Tears formed in your eyes as you stared up at him, searching for any kind of anger or resentment. There wasn’t any, he could never be mad at you.

“I wouldn’t have let you come on the case,” he replied after a beat. “I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you… I knew you would be protective– more protective,” you corrected with a soft smile.

“I’m aware,” Spencer pulled his lips into a tight smile. “You know the odds of… complications are higher in the first trimester, angel. You should have told me,” he frowned.

“I know, Spence,” you sighed. “I just wanted to make sure I was in the clear before I told you… I understand being shot isn’t necessarily helping with that but–”

“I understand,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You stared at him for a moment, “are you happy?”

“Happy?”

“That I’m pregnant? I know we’re not married and our jobs are crazy but–”

Spencer cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips, he pulled away slightly, “I’ve never been more happy,” he whispered.

You beamed with happiness, a bright smile tugging on your lips. Spencer hesitantly pressed a hand to your belly, his thumb stroking your tiny bump.

“Penelope thinks it’s a girl,” you muttered.

“...What do you think?” He asked curiously.

“I think she might be right,” you giggled softly.

“You know you can’t actually tell yet,” Spencer said and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You asked what I thought!” you retorted.

He laughed softly, “Yes, you’re right, you’re right.”

“Mmm, did that taste like poison to admit?” “Are gunshot victims supposed to be this mouthy?”

a/n: phew! i hope you guys liked it <3 i know i disappeared for a hot minute but here she is!!!

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servicpop · 2 days

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TOJI FUSHIGURO ⋆⋆⋆ msg series(?) pt.1

NSFW › toji has no filter and is just one big pervert

It was a Saturday evening and you were settled on the carpet of your living room with your hands propped against the coffee table. You had an array of different colored nail polish lined up as you stared at them, debating which one to wear today. You enjoyed nail polish — even though it was seen as 'too feminine,' you thought painting your nails was a calming activity to do after long days of work. As you sat crossed legged on the floor, Toji was lazily draped over the couch, watching you silently.

He didn't care at all that you wore nail polish, sometimes you'd even convince him to wear some himself but he always stuck to plain black. He noticed your little situation, observing the way your eyes scanned over the options and the cogs turn in your head. It really wasn't that hard he thought.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Toji questioned, his voice smooth but had a certain rasp to it from his nap 20 minutes ago. His voice catches your attention and you break away from your little trance, turning to face him, you explain your "crisis". It was an innocent question from him at first, until the corners of his scarred lips curled up and a shit-eating grin plastered on Toji's face.

"I have an idea," He starts slowly. You knew he was up to no good when he had that scheming smile, "Make your nails the color of my dick." You stare at him. You blink once, twice, maybe four times while you try and form a reply to that sentence.

"Huh?" Finally, a word comes out your mouth and you find yourself increasingly confused and pretty shocked the more you thought about it. Toji had no shame. "I don't– i don't have a color that matches..." Toji took some time to prop himself up with his elbows before pointing at one of your polishes.

"That pink one is pretty close," he pointed out, "Here, let's do a lil' color match yeah?" Before you could even react, Toji pushes himself off the couch and walks over to where you're sat, picking up the pink-ish nail polish and holding it in his palm. His other hand hooks the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls it down just enough. It was all so sudden, you weren't ready to be flashed! Its not like you haven't seen his body before, more like it still made you nervous seeing it. Heat spread through your cheeks and your head immediately turned to the side, a hand flew up to shield your poor eyes from Toji's shameless display.

"Pretty close," Toji scoffed with a smile. His eyebrows raised when he saw you shielding your eyes and he placed down the nail polish before turning to you, "Don't act like you haven't seen it plenty of times before," He laughed, letting his waistband snap back into place before curling his arms around your waist, picking you up with ease. He lifted you as if you were a stray kitten, moving to gently bend you over the coffee table, using his body weight to hold you flush against the glass.

"I think that color matches your skin real well doll," His voice dropped an octave and became more heavier and sultry. As he kept you pinned between his body and the table, he took this chance to pull off his sweatpants and slide yours off as well. "You can't see but—" He tapped his cock against the curve of your ass, observing how the color of his tip contrasted nicely with your skin, "—it's perfect." His large hand went to grab the flesh of your cheek, spreading it apart so he could see your cute hole all eager for him. Seemed like your body wasn't as pure as you were. He wasn't going to bother fishing for lube so he leaned back and spat a glob over your entrance, using his tip to shallowly smear it across your hole.

He pushed in slowly, groaning as he felt warmth surround his dick. He loved the way you felt. Loved the way your walls would give his cock a warm welcome and a tight hug. His hands — that were placed on your hips — moved to underneath your shirt, feeling your soft, supple skin under his calloused fingers. His fingers kept groping at your skin, tugging at the places were you had a little more plush than others before moving to cup your chest, ghosting over your now hard nipples. You couldn't help but whimper at that, the way his fingers so gently tickled your chest like that had you squirming and Toji for sure noticed it.

"You're cute, you know that?" He breathed in softly, taking in the scent of your shampoo as he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his hands still touching and caressing your torso. "Makes me wanna bite you," Toji growled against your shoulder, grazing his teeth along your skin but never actually sinking them into you, "But you're too pretty for that, seeing as the way you wanna doll yourself up all the time, bet you'd be mad if I leave an ugly mark hm?" His tone was so degrading it almost offended you but that feeling of offense was soon ignored once Toji pulled out and slammed back into you.

His dick rubbed against your prostate everytime he thrusted; at this point it was bullying with the way his cock aimed for your weak spots over and over again. The table creaked underneath your combined weight and the nail polishes on the desk rattled, threatening to fall over. Small strings of moans and mewls let your mouth as Toji kept pounding into you with his hands toying with your sensitive nipples. The stimulation was too much, you felt yourself try and wriggle out of his grasp, attempting to regain a little bit of your composure, but Toji just kept you pressed against the table and his fingers pinched at your buds.

"You can take it, I know you can. I've done worse to you," Toji hummed in your ear, you could practically feel the bass of his voice tickle your brain. He really was your weakness. He was being arguably nice to you right now. Toji really did have a thing for overstimulation and he loved seeing your brain go numb from all the pleasure he gives you.

You find yourself leaking, dripping pre onto your pants that pooled at your knees — luckily it didn't get on the carpet, that would be a pain to clean — and your eyes were rolling back, something you did when you were about to cum. You could tell Toji was too, his groans got louder and his cock pulsed inside you, waiting to spill. "Just a little more yeah?" He cooed, trailing his hands up to your collarbones and then to your neck, squeezing your adam's apple gently. Having your neck cradled like this made you feel somewhat vulnerable, especially considering how strong Toji was, but that was what made it all the more pleasurable, knowing that you were safe with Toji.

His cock grinded against your prostate once more and it sent you off the edge, a high whine left your throat as your toes curled and white spurted all over your pants. "Attaboy," He grumbled into your ear before thrusting into you one more time, groaning as he held your waist close to his body, making sure you took all of it.

Toji fully relaxed ontop of you, making you groan in protest from his crushing weight. "Y'know I heard that the best lipstick color is the colour of your nipple, maybe you should do that with your nails." He lifted you off the table, allowing you to look down at yourself but you slapped his hand away before he did anything stupid.

a/n : short little toji fic i wanted to write + some tests with layout, i also wrote this all in one day so its probably not that good TT

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #bottom male reader #male reader #male x male #sub male reader #mlm #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x male reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro x male reader #toji fushigro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #top character

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girlgenius1111 · 3 days

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flipped 2

ingrid x mapi x reader fluff + angst. r and mapi try to get to the bottom of what's going on with ingrid. wasn't positive i was going to write this but anything for @sunnyaelia

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When Ingrid woke, she didn’t open her eyes right away. She was much too comfortable, a soft blanket draped over her body, her face pressed comfortably into Mapi’s sweatshirt. She could feel your hands on her back, slipped up under the shirt you’d pulled on her. Your hands were smoother than Mapi’s, mindlessly stroking up and down. She could hear you both talking quietly, too, and the sounds of your voices were like some kind of soothing drug. You were mostly just talking about nothing, but a question Mapi posed caught her attention.

“How does your head feel?” She asked softly, brushing some hair back away from your forehead.

Honestly, it didn’t feel good. It was pulsing with a headache that you knew was from exerting yourself too much, from the rush of endorphins and chemicals in your brain. The pressure inside your skull was intense, and though it wasn’t very pleasant, you didn’t mind much. Not if the cause had made your girlfriend this relaxed in Mapi’s arms.

“Okay.” You lied, not wanting to draw attention away from Ingrid for even a moment.

“How does your head feel?” Mapi asked again, frowning this time as she could tell you weren’t telling the truth.

“It’s been better.” You allowed, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Mapi gently running a finger over your forehead.

“Amor,”

“How is your knee?” You countered. Mapi rolled her eyes.

“Do not change the subject. You should have told me it was bothering you.”

“I was fine. Ingrid needed this. It’s worth it, if she feels better.” You argued back. Mapi had a hard time coming up with a dissenting response, because honestly, she’d do almost anything to make Ingrid feel better, too. Instead, she turned her attention to the woman draped over her, her lips pulling into an involuntary smile at the sight.

“She looks relaxed.” Mapi murmured, taking in the perfection of Ingrid’s face, a perfection she never got tired of looking at.

“I’m worried she’s going to go back to how she was before when she wakes up. Acting like she’s fine, running herself into the ground. It’s a miracle she hasn’t picked up an injury yet, María, we can’t let her go on like this.”

Mapi hummed her agreement, and Ingrid felt her heart clench. It wasn’t her intention to make you guys worry, really the opposite. She wanted to take care of everything possible so that neither of you had to worry. She wanted to play so well, it instilled confidence in the team that the back line was secure. She wanted to be a leader. She wanted to be dependable. She wanted to be perfect, perfect for both of you.

The realization that she hadn’t been able to do this for you stung, and she felt tears welling in her eyes before she could do anything to stop it. Both you and Mapi noticed her stiffen slightly, and the way her eyes scrunched together told you all you needed to know. Before either of you could speak, Ingrid was forcing her eyes open, a devastated green looking up at you.

“I’m sorry I’ve been worrying you,” she whispered, her forehead creasing with sadness.

“You don’t need to say sorry for that, amor.” Mapi promised.

Ingrid shook her head, biting her lip as it trembled, so hard she almost seemed angry with herself for crying. “No, you both have more important things to worry about than me, I’m okay.”

“We have nothing more important to worry about than you, Ingrid. Nothing. Don’t say stuff like that because it isn’t true.” You said, unable to hide how upset her statement made you, and wondering how you and Mapi had messed up so badly that Ingrid was so convinced that she wasn’t important. “You are the most important thing to us.”

The pure disbelief on Ingrid’s face felt like a bullet through the heart. The Norwegian always came across as so confident, so sure of herself. This façade tricked the whole world into thinking she believed it, and it had tricked the two of you too. This realization stunned you into silence, briefly, a silence that Ingrid frantically tried to fill.

“No, no, you’re both hurt. I need to take care of you, I need to make sure you both are okay. Let me up, please, María, I need to get her some ice for her head.” Ingrid sniffled, fighting the tight embrace Mapi’s arms had her in. The Spaniard shook her head firmly, but looked at you with concern.

“Love, I’m okay, I promise you.” You implored.

“You need me.” Ingrid repeated brokenly.

Slowly, you nodded, eyes searching her pained expression. “I do need you. I always need you. You need us too, though. Can you let us take care of you?”

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” she began, only growing more teary eyed when Mapi cut her off.

“Stop, amor, stop lying. You said earlier you feel the most stressed you have ever felt in your life. Forgot about my knee for a minute, forget about her head. We are okay, but we need you to be okay too. It’s okay for you to need us.”

Ingrid shook her head rapidly. “No. I can’t need you.”

“Why not, princesa?” Mapi asked, in a soft tone of voice she reserved for you and Ingrid. Her gaze was beyond gentle as she regarded the Norwegian women, one tattooed hand cradling a freckled cheek.

“I can’t need you because you both deserve so much better than me, I don’t deserve to be loved by you.” she said quietly, rushing the words out as if they’d been swirling around in her head for some time. She missed the anger that flashed across Mapi’s face, but you didn’t. You felt the same way, honestly. You wanted to seek out whatever had made her feel like this, but you had a feeling that the trail would just lead you back to her. Perfect, beautiful, kind Ingrid. You couldn’t shout the insecure part of her away, it wouldn’t work. So, you rested a hand on Mapi’s shoulder to calm her, but it seemed that she had reached the same conclusion that you had.

“Mi princesa,” she whispered roughly. “I could spend 100 lifetimes loving you and it wouldn’t be enough. I do not care what you think I deserve. I love you. I want you. You do not need to earn my love, mi princesa. You have it. Always. For the rest of your life, for the rest of time. You just have it.”

Ingrid pushed her face into Mapi’s sweatshirt, her tears quietly soaking into the soft fabric. She looked so unlike herself, all broken and small. She clearly craved the reassurance, but was terrified to accept it.

You swallowed thickly, running your hand through her thick hair in an effort to get her to look at you. She didn't look up, but you spoke anyway. “Ingrid, where is this coming from? Did we do something to make you feel like this?”

Her voice was muffled but still audibly distraught when she replied. “No, I know you love me. I know you want me. I just… I don't always understand why. All I can see are my flaws, all the things I do wrong, and I hate myself for them. If I let you take care of me… you’ll see them too.”

It was so absurd, you wanted to laugh. You didn’t, though. You just took a deep breath, thinking that the agonized expression on Mapi’s face probably matched yours right now.

“Ingrid… I don’t know what flaws you see in yourself. You are as close to perfection as I have ever seen a person get.” You rolled your eyes at Mapi’s slight pout at your statement. “Anything you consider to be a flaw… it's miniscule in the scale of how much we love you. We want you to need us. You don’t need to be completely put together all the time. You don’t need to suffer by yourself just because you deem your stressors insignificant in comparison to ours.”

“Amor, you can always lean on us. Even if my knee is fucked. I don’t need two working legs to take care of you. There is no flaw, nothing in the world that you could do that would make us not want you. That would make us see you any differently than we do now. You are ours. That will never change, mi amor, never.”

You were startled to see tears welling in Mapi’s eyes, but you understood. It was painful to see someone you loved so much feel so awful, and keep it from you. It was painful to realize you’d missed something because you were too wrapped up in yourself to pay enough attention and realize what was going on sooner.

“We have to do better, sí? It is not enough to tell you that we love you. We have to remind you of why, and we will, mi princesa, I promise you We will.” Mapi whispered, her voice thick with emotion, and holding a quiet promise, one that was clear to Ingrid. And really, if anyone could fix this horrible way of thinking she knew she shouldn’t engage in, it would be the two of you.

“Tomorrow is Ingrid day.” You declared. “We’ll do whatever you want. We’ll spend the whole day telling you what we love about you, if that’s what it takes.”

Ingrid let out a choked laugh, allowing Mapi to gently wipe her tears off her face. “I just want to stay here. And lay with you both. Can we do that?” She asked shyly.

“Of course we can.” María smiled. “Whatever you want, princesa, I mean it.”

Ingrid turned her attention to you, allowing some worry to creep back into her gaze. “I want you to rest tomorrow, too.”

“I will, if that makes you happy.” You promised, smiling softly at her, a smile she returned.

“You both are perfect.” She said, looking between the two of you like she couldn’t quite believe her luck.

“Then you are perfect, too. Beautiful.” Mapi leaned up to press a kiss to Ingrid’s lips, murmuring each word in between kisses. “Kind. Hardworking. Perfect, amor. So perfect.”

You were glad to see the blush on Ingrid’s cheeks, knowing that it meant you’d both gotten through to her, at least a little bit. The Norwegian settled her face into Mapi’s neck, her hand reaching out to twist into your shirt and pull you closer. You fit in next to them so easily. You always would, and so would they. Because maybe you weren’t all actually perfect. You were, however, perfect for each other.

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this was physically painful to write for no reason and it's short but the words were not flowing. it's done now though and i hope you all like :)

#ingrid engen x mapí leon #mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso imagine

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jj-one · 2 days

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𝑪𝑹𝑨𝒁𝒀, 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑷𝑰𝑫, 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 🎬 ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

PT. 1 / please read part 1 before continuing, this won’t make sense as a stand alone !

The model life has never crossed your mind but the moment Jungkook laid his eyes on you he knew you were perfect. He was willing to go great lengths to get you on board, even developing a connection with you that could ultimately lead to one of you getting hurt.

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ pairing ꒱ ˒˓ modeling scout!jungkook ˒˓ model!f!reader ˒˓ strangers to enemies to lovers, jk is in his early 30's and reader is early 20's genre/tags. angst, (some) fluff, a lot of smut, cheating, mentions of past trauma, small mentions of alcohol and drug usage, mentions of y/n crying, themes of anxiety and depictions of panic attacks, oral (m & f receiving), katoptronophilia, daddy kink, public sex, you give jk road head lol, piv, unprotected sex (we should know by now that this is wrong!), left y’all with a bad cliffhanger yet again lmao i can’t help it words. 14.6k

A blank stare is met with you from your confrontation. The man who you thought you knew, was now standing over you with the most dumbfounded look.

“Wh— what do you mean, y/n?” Jungkook asks, arching his brows in confusion, you wished it was easier for you to handle this.

As much as you envisioned yourself doing so, you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to face the man in front of you. Your flight or fight instincts were starting to kick you into flight mode since you didn’t have much fight left within you. What’s the point anymore? It was only going to end in disaster anyway, as most do your attempts at finding happiness do.

“I really think you should just leave now Jungkook…” your voice trails off as you look at the ground, unable to bear him a clear answer to your sudden awkward behavior. That voicemail of his wife kept replaying in your head, you wanted to breakdown and cry, the woman sounded so sweet and was probably such a good wife to him. Though, you don’t know for certain what goes on behind the scenes, she seemed like a nice person, it just made you feel more shameful. You felt awful for possibly being a home-wrecker now, and it’s only making you want him out of your sight even more.

“But what do you mean by the truth? Talk to me y/n, I would never lie to you I-”

You cut him off instantly, snapping at him for the last line, which was obviously another blatant lie. “Please get the fuck out and just let me process this or it’s going to get really ugly!”

You didn’t mean to growl at him like that at the end, turning more hostile by the second, but you were practically at your wits end with him right now. The constant lying was just too much, you don’t even know what the truth is anymore.

“I’ll go, but can you at least just tell me what I did wrong this time? I’m so confused by you y/n, why are you always like this?” He was so clueless and unfazed of the fact that you didn’t even know his biggest secret, it made you want to scream at him more.

“Why am I like this? Why are you like this?! Do you not foster a guilty conscience at all? You should feel sick for cheating on your wife!” You couldn’t hold it in anymore, there’s no going back from this and now he’s forced to come clean.

Once finally addressing the elephant in the room the air was filled with complete, utter silence. His more collected and calm demeanor instantly shifts from before, pausing for a moment and breaks his steady eye contact with you. You knew immediately once you drop that information he wouldn’t be able to face you with such confidence.

“How…did you…even figure that out?” The look on his face was priceless as his dirty laundry has been finally aired out. His mouth wide open with shock, his body tensed up from the panic settling in, already knowing how bad this situation could ensue.

“You shouldn't leave your phone lying around, idiot.” You point to his phone that’s still on the ground, “maybe take it in the shower with you next time, you cheating liar!”

“W-wait back up, you went through my phone? That’s not cool y/n!” Jungkook’s face was beet red from embarrassment and now yours was too. You both got called out for doing bad things but his ‘bad thing’ is much more extreme and serious than yours will ever be.

“She called you like eight fucking times, I thought it could’ve been one of your clients or something!”

Jungkook kept pacing around your room still in disbelief of it all, the only word he could muster up was a simple “wow…” His silence was saying a lot right now and from the looks of it he wasn’t going to give you much further explanation. Even so, it wouldn’t be enough for you to forgive him, he’s not only hurt you but his innocent wife, that’s unforgivable in your eyes.

“I want you out of my apartment now!” Raising your voice several more octaves, you open your bedroom door to let him freely walk out but he tries one last time in attempt to plead with you.

“Please, y/n I can explain if you let me..”

“What the fuck is there to explain?” You scoff, annoyed by his efforts, “the explanation is already right there!”

“I’m going to be fully honest with you now, okay? I’ve been with my wife for 3 and a half years and it’s probably been the worst mistake of my life. My parents basically forced me into this marriage to begin with. I didn’t have much of a choice, I never loved her— I don’t even know why I ended up stayed for this long. I’m trying to get a divorce soon, i’m filing the papers next week and we’re technically already separated as I’ve told her many, many times how this isn’t going to work. At this point it’s strictly for appearances that we’re still “together” …she’s an actress so I need to make sure I don’t ruin her public image with a messy divorce or any bad scandals.” He finishes his explanation and you were now even taken more aback by everything.

How come just didn’t say any of this beforehand? It would’ve saved him a lot of trouble than just waiting for you to find out, because even the sneakiest people have to face their consequences eventually. You don’t know the whole gravity of the situation nor how much say he had in this marriage but him talking so casually about divorcing his wife wasn’t sitting right with you. You didn’t fully understand everything but one thing you knew for sure was that he’s the world’s biggest liar. From the moment you met Jungkook he has been doing nothing but lying and keeping this giant secret from you. It didn’t matter how complex it was, the fact that he couldn’t just be up front about his relationship status made you more angry, made you feel more stupid for falling for him. You were definitely not someone with the highest moral compass and you probably wouldn’t have judged him had he have been honest, maybe you’d save yourself the pain and not have slept him— but now that more feelings are involved, you feel trapped.

“You truly disgust me, that’s really all I have left to say.” Once again attempting to kick the man out of your apartment but he begs you to hear him out, holding the door in place to eventually shut it closed behind him.

“Look, I know how bad this sounds and you have every right to be angry with me y/n, but everything’s just so…complicated right now..” He reluctantly continues, “I do regret you had to find out this way, but as I said before I don’t love her anymore— if I ever did honestly. I’d just like to move on… possibly with you once everything gets finalized.”

You’re unsure to believe if Jungkook really does have genuine feelings for you or if you’re just another one of his many pawns. If he was capable of lying to you for so long then pretty much anything else was on the table.

“Jungkook, do you not realize how shitty I feel for doing all of this? This was all practically my fault, if I didn’t invite you over this would’ve never happened and I—”

“Absolutely none of this is your fault y/n? All the blame is on me, you don’t owe her any loyalty. I’m the one who made the decision at the end of the day. I’m sorry for not telling you, I just didn’t know how to bring it up…which is why I kept denying my feelings to deter you from even trying to pursue me, I really tried to keep it strictly business but you were making it so hard for me to resist.”

It all made sense to you now. Those moments he’d act like a complete jerk to you for no reason, those were the times he wanted you the most. It’s crazy to think that his plan would actually end up having the opposite effect on you, but you do tend to gravitate towards toxic behaviors because that’s all you knew for most of your life.

“Is this what you were so scared of?” You ask, finally mustering up the courage to face him once again, “I’m an understanding person, I wouldn’t have judged if you told me... I just don’t appreciate you lying to me, please promise to never do that again.”

Jungkook takes both your hands in the palms of his, slowly parting his lips to speak, “I won’t lie to you again y/n, I promise. You have my every word on that.” He solemnly swears, you really wanted to believe what he was saying but you felt indifferent. There was still a heavy, cinder block weight on your shoulders.

“Also…we kinda have a shoot in less than 5 hours and we really need to get going soon.” Jungkook changes the subject to work now, you almost completely forgot that this man was still your modeling agent and boss.

“Fuck.. I really have to do a shoot today?!” You were definitely not in the mood to see or interact with anyone. You wanted to keep talking to Jungkook about where you both stand, the more clarity you get the better, but work is starting to interfere with this now.

Simply sighing and nodding your head to his pleas for you to go through with this shoot, you grab a few things quickly to leave your apartment with him.

A raging headache was beginning to induce your brain. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to how bright these vanity lights on the mirror are. To keep you somewhat relaxed you close your eyes while the person styling your hair puts tiny strands in neat sections. Your mind kept racing and all you could think about was your earlier confrontation with Jungkook. You haven’t seen him since you got here, your phone was dead because your idiotic self forgot to charge it last night and now had no one to talk to. Everything about this situation was eating you up from the inside and it was becoming even harder to act completely normal.

When your hair was done a new stylist came in to do your makeup, they brought a huge makeup kit and started with your brows. This was your life now, sitting in a chair like an achromatic robot for hours on end getting the most tedious things done after the next. You weren’t the best at sitting still for long periods of time and this job consisted of mostly that/being on your feet all day, it was tiring but you had to remain focused.

Jungkook was now making you take classes to perfect your model walk since he wants you to partake in this fashion show for his new campaign. He wants you to be the opening for the show but you were really nervous about that idea, you don’t like all the attention drawn on you. You’ve never pictured yourself being on a stage in front of loads of people, let alone the most important fashion moguls in the industry— it was never your vision but Jungkook had other plans for you.

He would always say how someone as beautiful as you deserved to be seen on billboards, front covers of magazines, and so much more. He actually believed in you, more than anyone else did in your entire life and that’s why you continued to stay with him. He knows exactly how to make you feel adored, like you’re the only person in the whole world.

When the makeup artist was finally finished with your look, another person came in. This time however, it was your new favorite person from work to see you now. It was see your personal stylist Yeonjun who came walking through the door, meeting you with open arms to give him a big hug. You were glad to finally see one of your work friends since you didn’t have very many, you mostly talked to Yeonjun or Jungkook if you needed something. Yeonjun had bright pink hair now and it surprisingly suited him really well, you complimented his new look and he flashed you the sweetest smile.

“Thanks my dear, how’ve you been y/n?” He cheerfully asks, taking a few garments off some racks and setting them aside.

“I’ve been alright…I guess I just have a lot on my mind right now.” You admit, hoping he’d take the bait by asking you what’s wrong.

To no surprise, he follows up your response with “what’s on your mind hun?” And gives you his full undivided attention.

It wouldn’t take long for you to spill everything, you had to at least tell someone else to get an outside perspective. The tears were slowly rolling down your cheeks as you finished your story, quickly wiping them away so you don’t ruin the stylist’s hard work on your makeup, waiting for Yeonjun to react. You look up at his face and he looked in complete shock since he probably wasn’t expecting to hear this at all.

“Well this is messy as hell, I mean— you haven’t even been a model for 2 weeks and you’re already sleeping with your boss? No wonder he doesn’t let anyone around you!” He playfully jokes, “but in all seriousness, this is kind of insane. I personally wouldn’t know what to do if I was in your position…”

You appreciated his honesty. You know your situation wasn’t quite easy and the more entangled you got, the more messy it becomes. You have your own selfish reasons for wanting to stay with Jungkook too. You wanted to see how far this modeling career could actually take you, thinking about your life before and after you met Jungkook. Before him, you were working at a convenience store, living off below minimum wage, and close to getting evicted with no place to go but after you met him all of those things seemingly went away in an instant. The only downside of this situation was that the man you were slowly falling in love with was married and had a family. That’s the part you can’t ignore and it crushed you deep inside, but the outweighing factors were starting to make you want to turn a blind eye.

“We can talk more about this later y/n, but we really have to get you in these clothes so that you make it in time on set, plus I’m not trying to get yelled at.” Yeonjun politely expressed, he knows how much you’re not feeling up to all this but his motivating attitude helps you get through it.

You huff, “okay, fine.”

The dress you were wearing was a size way too small for you, it was digging so deep into your rib cage you felt like you were going to faint at any moment. The dress was insanely beautiful but it made you barely even able to sit down properly. The mini dress you had on was a dark red, velvet material, it was striped with floral accents, ruffles lined the hem and the sleeves were puffy with lettuce trim. You wore black see-through stockings with knee high 5-inch stiletto boots and the pain shooting from the back of your feet was excruciating. Though the outfit was absolutely stunning you were beyond uncomfortable, you had no idea how you were going to walk in this on set.

“Yeonjun this dress is cutting off my circulation…” you tell him while standing awkwardly, wanting to get this dress off of you immediately.

“It’s just for a photoshoot y/n, it may not be the most comfortable but it’ll only last for 20 minutes I believe in you!” He gives you a mini pep talk to help you through your discomfort and it slightly puts you at ease to fake it until you make it.

You know that this was the price of becoming a model and sometimes pain is the cost of beauty, you just have to suck it up for now and get it over with. Trying to walk in a straight line was a task in itself since the back of your heels kept jabbing into your skin, you know you’re going to get a crazy blister after this. Yeonjun holds your hand to help you balance yourself and you felt more embarrassed that he had to help keep you from falling.

“This is not what I signed up for when I thought I’d be doing this…” you say while walking carefully to the other studio.

“I’m sure none of us do love,” Yeonjun’s face scrunched as he chuckles, making your way over to the set where everyone else was now.

The set was full of people, everyone had a designated job to do something. All the models were lined up at the front waiting for their turn for photos to be taken while multiple photographers took shots of others models in the center. There were more models in the corner getting touch ups, staff handing out water bottles and refreshments, directors giving instructions, the whole thing was an orderly chaos. Once you got to the front, you were told by a director to stand in the line next to all the other models and wait for your photos to be taken. You sigh heavily as you head up to all the women who were now all looking at you.

Some of them didn’t look very friendly, you felt as though you were being silently judged. You were the new girl and no one even knew who you were. Your thoughts went racing again as before, you were feeling like you didn’t deserve to be here. These women looked way more qualified to do this job than you, you were so amazed at how gorgeous everyone looked. You know you’ll have to get used to it eventually since you’ll practically be around beautiful people your entire career.

You hear a familiar voice on the set and you finally see Jungkook since the morning you had both left.

“I thought we agreed that we were going to get the bigger piano for this shoot? Why am I still seeing the same ones from before?!”

“Sorry boss, but you told us that it was too out of budget so we-”

“For fucks sake, I don’t give a shit about the budget anymore, this looks cheap and tacky, we can’t have this. Call the call guy up to bring the bigger one, NOW!” He continues his tirade, “also, why is y/n in the back? I told you as soon as she arrives she needs to be placed first!” He comes up to you and puts his hands on your shoulders, you tensed up immediately from his minor touch.

No one else in here besides the two of you know what happened last night and the awkwardness of it all is killing you inside. He was acting as if everything was completely normal and it kind of infuriated you. Jungkook places you to the front of the line and all the other models watch as he took your hand in his. You could just feel the eyes being glued on you, if looks could kill you’d be in a coffin, six feet under by now. Some of the other models sneered at you while you simply walked to the front to wait for your photos to be taken.

When it was now your time to go Jungkook politely asks you to come sit on a chair. You try your best to sit as comfortably as you can in this tight dress but you feel even more suffocated from sitting down. All you could do in this moment was simply hope for the best.

“Sit with your legs crossed y/n,” Jungkook positions you to do a pose for the photographer and you comply. You cross your legs and do a natural pose with your arms, the photographer snaps a photo immediately. The constant flash of the camera lights were giving you another headache, this job is so exhausting. Jungkook spoke to you in such a soft tone when instructing you to pose, he’s usually a very stern and sometimes vindictive boss with most people, but with you he’s the most gentle person. He almost babies you in a way, he treats you differently because he knows how fragile you are. It felt much longer than 20 minutes like Yeonjun said, but once you were done you got up instantly to feel like you can somewhat breathe again. All you can think about is getting out of these uncomfortable but beautiful clothes.

“You did such a great job as always y/n, so perfect. Thank you!” The photographer compliments you once he’s done.

“Isn’t she just amazing?” Jungkook chimes in, “I can’t believe I discovered her, such a rare gem in today’s society.” He looked at you with such pride, he took pride in all of his achievements but this one meant more to him. You were flustered by Jungkook’s comment in front of the photographer, if only he knew why he thought you were so amazing. Jungkook hands you a water bottle and you take it from his hands thanking him politely. A part of you was still angry with him but you knew it wasn’t worth being petty over right now. You didn’t want to throw off the vibe in front of all these people so it was best to pretend as if there’s nothing going on between you two. You were about to leave so you can head back to your dressing room and take these clothes off but Jungkook slips a piece of paper in your hand behind your back. He mumbled something under his breath but you couldn’t understand it, looking at the crumbled note with messy handwriting in black ink:

‘Meet me upstairs in the dressing rooms in 5’

You look up and Jungkook was already gone. You were now left alone in a room full of people, you know why he wants you there but the fact he did this so blatantly was beyond you. Making sure no one was suspicious of you, you make your way up the stairs to go to the dressing rooms. It didn’t take long for you to reach your destination, Jungkook was already waiting for you inside. You slam the door behind you and now standing in front of him again but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him this time. The tension between you two felt different now that you were alone again, all professionalism out the door.

“I know what you brought me here for but we still need to talk and-”

Jungkook cuts you off, “what else is there to talk about y/n? I’ve already told you everything. I don’t know what more you want from me, I brought you up here to make up for my behavior.”

“I don’t want to fuck you this dressing room right no-”

He cuts you off once again, “who said anything about fucking? Baby you have no idea. Come sit, just relax for me sweetie.”

He motions for you to sit down and you reluctantly do so. The tightness of the dress was becoming worse once you sat down again, you groaned from the life being sucked out of you.

“I just want these damn clothes off of me already, can you please help me?” You ask, in dire need to breathe properly again.

Jungkook nods, coming up behind you to unzip the dress and you feel instant relief from finally being out of it. You sigh as you feel your body coming back to normal, the dress was now fully unzipped, feeling a rush of cool air from the fan coming in contact with your bare skin. You slide the dress off including your stockings and kick off those uncomfortable heels you were wearing. You were now sitting in the chair with nothing other than your tiny g-string, that small excuse of fabric was barely covering your lower region. You wanted to blush from embarrassment but Jungkook was staring at you hungrily, as if he wants to devour your existence. You cover your chest with your hands but Jungkook chuckles at that.

“Don’t be shy with me now babe, acting like I’ve never seen you naked before, give me a fucking break y/n.”

He traces his fingertips down your shoulders, lightly drawing circles along your delicate skin. His warm breath tingled against you as he got closer, the tension in the air was so thick, you could cut it with a steak knife.

“I’ve watched you touch yourself in front of me, you can be such a good girl for me when you want to be.” He whispers in your ear softly.

You tremble from his words, consumed by his touch, and all the filthy things he says to you makes your mind go blank within seconds. He drags his fingers down to your stomach, tracing more invisible lines on your body. The fact he was still fully clothed and you were the one under him, fully exposed, ready for him to do whatever he wanted made you even more nervous. You never know what this man’s intentions are with you.

“Will you be a good girl for me right now while I go down on you? You have to stay as quiet as possible for me or else there will be consequences princess.”

You don’t know what those consequences will be, but you simply nod your head. You turn into the perfect submissive when you’re alone with Jungkook, you do any and everything he says with no hesitation. You like to think you would never fall to a man’s beck and call but for Jungkook, you’d risk it all. His light touches kept going as he brought a hand to your inner thigh, kneading at your flesh. His hands played with the thin string of your thong, he takes the front of it and pulls at the fabric then flings it back like a slingshot. You squeal from the contact on your cunt, making you flinch a little. He does it a few more times, flinging it back and toying with you. The evil smirk on his face said it all, he was playing a little game with you. The string of the thong was now jammed in between your pussy lips, the sight of it made Jungkook smack his lips together. He wanted you so bad but teasing you was way more fun.

“You have such a pretty cunt babygirl,” he expresses in a sultry tone, “I’m going to take all the time I need with you, princess.”

He plays some more with the g-string and you close your eyes from the sensation, opening your legs wider for him to get a better view.

“No, keep your eyes open and look into the mirror behind me, you take your eyes off of it once and I’ll make sure to punish you so bad you won’t be able to walk again.”

You open your eyes instantly, looking over at the mirror in front of you and seeing Jungkook on his knees being eye level with your dripping cunt.

“Will you promise to be a good girl for daddy?” He asks sternly.

“Yes, I promise daddy I will!”

“Then say it.”

“I’ll be a good girl for daddy, I promise I’ll be good!” You plead with him.

He gives you a little smirk and his eyes were dark like they were last night. The only thing on his mind right now was ruining you completely.

He brings his face closer to your heat, his lips were close to it you could feel his breath sweep against you. He slides the sad excuse of fabric to the side and draws a single digit into your wetness. A small moan comes out of you and he looks up with a glaring eye, making you cover your mouth so you can stop yourself from going further.

“Be quiet…” he says, bringing another finger to his lips for you to stay silent.

He continues dragging his finger up and down your slit, rubbing your slick all over to create even more a mess. He couldn’t stop looking at the way your cunt was glistening and as much as he wanted to keep teasing you, he also wanted to dive his face in. He brings his tongue to your slit, starting with small kitten licks, your body trembles just by the slightest amount of stimulation. He drags his tongue slowly, coming in contact with your clit and lightly sucks on it. You keep your eyes on the mirror like Jungkook instructed you to, the pornographic sight was enough to make you want to cum. You had your legs spread out wide for him, holding your thighs to keep them in place as he eats you out.

The feeling of his tongue gliding against your clit left you with a million tingles down your spine. He nestles his face deeper into your cunt and his nose brushed up against your sensitive bundle of nerves, drenching his whole face with your wetness. The task of keeping quiet was only growing to become more difficult as his pace grew quicker. Jungkook’s mouth felt like heaven and the reflection of him on his knees for you was making you go insanely feral. He licks a long stripe against your cunt in the slowest motion, his eyes looking at you the entirety of it which only made you want to moan out for him. You bite your lip down heavily enough to draw a tiny amount of blood, really trying your best to be good for him as possible.

“You’re being such a good girl for me baby,” Jungkook praises while still looking up at you, “I knew you could do it, you’re a smart girl.” He continues his assault on your clit and his tongue flicks against it faster. You want to moan out his name but you don’t want know what the consequences will be, plus you don’t want anyone to know that you’re getting it on with the man who’s supposed to be in charge of you. You’re stuck in a daze from all the pleasure he was giving you, tangling your fingers in his long fluffy hair to feel more of him. His face was now completely buried inside you, you weren’t sure if he was even breathing properly but you didn’t hear any complaining from his end.

He laps up all your wetness with his mouth as he works his tongue deep into your cunt, you almost cry out from the feeling in your core. You seal your lips tighter in order not to make a sound, your heavy breathing was the only audible noise coming from you— besides the sounds of your juices being mixed with Jungkook’s tongue of course. You kept tugging on his hair making it messier as you continue watching him through the mirror. His tongue going back to your clit to abuse it some more, you could feel your high approaching any minute now. Your body jerks from the over stimulation and you want to scream but you end up pulling strands of his hair harder.

“You gonna cum for me princess?” He takes a moment to catch some air, “I want you to cum for daddy, can you do that for me?”

You simply nod your head, focusing on your climax and almost shut your eyes, but you remember you have to keep them open. You really do your best to try and look at him but it was all too much for you, you wanted to pass away and let the pleasure wash over you like a typhoon. He circles your clit with his tongue one more time as you cover your mouth again to stop you from moaning out load. You can feel your release coming as you chase your high, your eyes were still open surprisingly as you watched Jungkook keep himself between your legs. Your legs violently shake as you cum, the creamy substance now dripping out beautifully against his tongue. He licks your slate clean as all your cum is gone and he licks up the rest of your essence on your thighs.

“Such a good girl for me.” Jungkook says, now smiling with pride after he’s made you cum. He gets up from being on the floor and his face was completely wet, he glanced over at the mirror and noticed immediately. He licked his lips and chuckled at his appearance, his hair was a complete, disheveled mess and the neckline of his shirt was lined with sweat. You giggle from the effect you had on him, he was the one putting in all the work yet came out looking completely ruined too.

“Let’s get you in some different clothes and head back before people start noticing I disappeared, I’m sure everyone is wondering where I ran off to,” Jungkook takes a random blouse and skirt off of a rack and hands it to you, “just wear this then meet me back on set, you know we have that rehearsal later as well so I’ll call you and pick you up at 8.”

You nod your head and take the clothes from him, you had a fully packed schedule this whole week and you didn’t realize how busy your life was going to become. You used to have more free time to go out and hang with friends but ever since you got this modeling gig you barely talked to any of them. Your phone was still dead and you have no idea if anyone’s been trying to communicate with you. You aren’t the type to change your whole personality because of a new guy in your life but Jungkook was showing you a different side of the world, a part of the world you knew absolutely nothing about. All you could do was continue to have a levelheaded mindset and hope that it won’t eventually change you into something you aren’t.

It felt lonely coming back to your apartment without Jungkook. He had to finish up some work at the studio so he couldn’t drive you home, he had one of his staff chauffeur you back. You had your own car but Jungkook didn’t want you driving unless you really had to, he didn’t like having you do more work than you already do. You called your landlord to confirm if you were still going to be evicted and he told you no, that someone named Mr. Jeon called him and told him that he would be your guarantor and all your bills can go directly to him. Your jaw almost hit the floor once he said that, you really couldn’t believe your biggest problem you’ve been dealing with has been resolved in such an instant. You were baffled at his behavior yet grateful since now you didn’t really have anything to worry about. Well, besides the fact that you’re now Jungkook’s mistress and he’s pretty much helping you build your entire career. You would usually never accept handouts from people, let alone help you pay your own rent, this was a new side of you only he could bring out. You had no idea you were capable of doing anything like this.

You rest your head in your hands as you sit on your bed to think about all the events leading up to your life right now. One tiny interaction was all it took to completely change your life and you’re not even sure if it’s for the better. Your phone was finally turned back on from being dead all day and you check your missed notifications. You got a call from your best friend Sakura and she texted you asking if you were okay, you haven’t talked to her since the day you went off on her about her taking “accountability” speech.

You decide to call her back since you really wanted to update her on everything and get her opinion. You call her but it immediately goes straight to voicemail so you call it again but the same thing happens. You get confused by this so you send her a message to tell her to answer her phone however the message becomes green instead of blue once you press send. Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach now, you know that this could only mean one thing. Your own best friend blocked your number. You felt so betrayed right now, the person who was supposed to stick by your side through everything decides to cut you off and not even give you a chance at closure. You felt sick and you didn’t even know what to do. The only thing you could think of was to start bursting into tears. You couldn’t believe she would do something like this to you, after all you’ve been through together it just felt like a slap in the face.

Your tears kept coming and you couldn’t stop rocking yourself to calm you down. You felt entire your whole body shake as your breathing slowly become irregular. You were a sobbing mess and now you were feeling like a panic attack was about to arise. You couldn’t contain all your emotions, everything coming at you all at once made you feel so small and anxious. You felt utterly helpless, alone, so trapped, you could feel your airways closing from the tightness, only wheezing and coughing in response.

Your phone vibrated as a call notification pops up, it was Jungkook. You don’t answer it because you were in the middle of a full blown panic attack and you couldn’t mutter a single word at this moment. You were growing dizzy and kept gasping for air, it truly felt as though you were dying right now. You try to get up from your bed but your body grew weak, your limbs felt fluid as you tried to move. Your phone kept buzzing but the sounds were starting to feel like it was coming from underwater. Everything around you was a blur and you remember nothing else besides your eyes slowly falling shut.

You woke up laying on the floor of your room next to your bed, your head was pounding as if you had just drank too much alcohol. You get up to look around and everything was the same, nothing was thrown around or out of place. Now getting up and recovering from your panic attack, you breathe deeply and exhale to calm your anxious nerves. Your phone was still on the bed and you realize you’ve been on the floor for about half an hour. Jungkook called you about 4 times, he also texted you asking you what you were doing. It was almost 7 o’clock and you didn’t have much time to get ready for this rehearsal tonight. You call Jungkook back and he answers immediately,

“Y/n! Where have you been?” He says, sounding pretty concerned.

“I- I’m sorry I just wasn’t feeling too well…” you refrain from going any further in order not to worry him.

“Is something wrong? Did something happen y/n? I’ll be over there soon and we can talk about it if you wan-”

“No, it’s okay Jungkook, I actually don’t want to talk about it. Just pick me up at the normal time.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want. I’ll pick you up later then I guess…”

You hang up and let out a sigh, you didn’t even want to tell him about your situation with Sakura, it was unnecessary drama for him anyway. You have to get into work mode so you try to forget about it and take a shower. You felt like an empty shell of a person, just numb to everything and although you are incredibly hurt, you have to shield that from the rest of the world.

A black Porsche waits for you in your driveway. Jungkook comes out of the car and opens the door for you to get in the passenger side. You did your best to try and act normal, you really didn’t want him to notice anything off with you.

“You okay babe?” He asks anyway, you know he always does this to make sure you really are okay. He thought maybe it was just the stress of it all getting to you but you had another problem to deal with.

“Yes Kook, I’m fine can we just drive?” You tell him, wanting nothing but this conversation to be over with.

“I’m just making sure you’re alright, no need to bite my head off all the time y/n.” He retorts, he has good intentions behind him asking but you always find it slightly annoying when he does. Maybe because you never really had someone constantly ask if you were okay, it was usually the opposite, no one ever cared how you felt. Just like how your own “best friend” decides to block you and shut you out her life without taking your feelings into consideration. It hurt you so bad. All those emotions came flooding through you again and you felt your lips tremble. You try and snap out of your moment so you don’t cry in front Jungkook like you always do, you have to remain strong this time. You thought of anything to distract you but nothing seemed to be working, then one of the most unthinkable decisions came to your mind.

“Jungkook, do you have any cigarettes on you?” You ask him quietly, for some reason all you could think of to relieve your stress was smoking.

He looked at you as if you were confessing to a murder, never did he think those words would come out of your mouth.

“Um… yeah but I thought you said those were cancer sticks and I’m cutting my life by a year each time I smoke?”

“I mean yeah that is true, but I’m really stressed right now I just want to try one.”

“That’s what I said when I was 14 and look at me now,” he says ironically, “I don’t want to be the reason for you getting hooked on these.”

“I’m not going to become an addict! Just let me try one dammit!” You were growing frustrated with his attempts in getting you to stop but once you make your mind about something you’ll want to do it in the end.

“What’s gotten into you lately y/n? Is this is my fault? I’ll try harder to be a better influence for you if I can.”

You roll your eyes, “I don’t need you to influence me to do anything, this has nothing to do with you. I just want to relieve some stress!”

“There are so many other ways you can relieve stress than slowly killing yourself y/n…”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… you could have sex?” He proposes, “with me of course.”

“How can we have sex right now if you’re driving? Dumbass.”

“Hey, don’t call me that! I was just giving a suggestion…plus you know there’s other things you can do besides penetration.”

You giggle at his usage of the word “penetration”, you were so immature that it made him laugh too.

“So you want me to give you road head?” You say to him innocently, you like to see him get all worked up from you acting cute.

“I mean, if you want… yeah. Have you ever done something like this before?”

“Yeah kinda, the car wasn’t moving though!” You now turn your body completely to face him in the driver’s seat. You smile up at him with seductive eyes, watching as he sneaks glances at you while he drives, making your way closer to him. You lean over and stare at his stiff erection through his pants, rubbing your hand over it as you palm him in your grasp. He winces a bit at that and you can tell just by any touch you give him his whole body feels like it’s set on fire. You weren’t a big teaser unlike Jungkook, so you waste no time in unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans to free his cock from the confines of his boxers. You look at the beautiful man’s pretty pink dick standing tall in front of you, licking your lips at the sight. His veiny cock was throbbing in your tiny hand, tip already leaking out with delicious precum. You slowly press your mouth against the tip, keeping it there for a bit to get a little taste of him. You then swirl your tongue lightly around it, loving the salty tanginess of his precum against your tongue.

“Fuck princess… you feel so good around me already,” he bit his lip harshly, gripping the steering wheel even harder.

You wrap your mouth tighter around his length as you begin to slide your head down. Bobbing it back and forth and keeping a tight suction on his cock, making sure not to use any teeth. You feel Jungkook’s hips jolt up from the sensation as you draw more saliva from your mouth, making it as messy as possible. He let out a loud groan when his dick hit the back of your throat, you didn’t choke or gag once which surprised him. You don’t have a gag reflex which is ultimately perfect for giving head, you’re not really sure how you got so blessed with this talent. You take all of him completely in your mouth, swallowing him whole as you keep bobbing your head. The way he filled you up felt so good, nothing could compare to having Jungkook’s cock in your mouth.

“That’s my good girl, keep going— just like that baby— ahh….” He keeps encouraging you, giving you small praises here and there. He does his best to keep his eyes on the road but the way you’re sucking him is taking him to different universe. Your free hand rested on his right thigh as you continued throwing your head back, stroking his cock with your pretty, talented mouth. He elicits more moans and it only makes you want to make him cum faster.

Jungkook bit his lip even harder, trying so hard not to crash this vehicle, he breathes in and out the best way he can. He could feel himself cumming soon and his whole body tenses up like he’s got a volcano erupting inside him.

“I think I’m gonna cum… damn baby…”

You couldn’t say anything since his cock was buried 7 inches deep down your throat. The only thing on your mind right now was getting him to cum inside your mouth. You hum as you pick up your pace, deepthroating him aggressively. There was so much saliva everywhere, your face was flushed and you seriously looked such a mess. A beautiful mess, just for Jungkook. You feel his hard length throb against in your mouth and a warm sensation hits the back of your throat. White ropes of his cum releases into you and you swallow it immediately, you look up at him as you take all his cum. His cum tastes so good, you were so sad when he emptied all of it. You pull away and kiss the tip of his cock before you go up to his face and give him a quick kiss on the lips. He flashes a soft smile at you and you gave a warm smile back. He quickly zips his pants back up with one hand and you help fix his belt for him.

“See, wasn’t that much better than smoking a cigarette?” He says proudly, you hate to admit he was right but at least he prevented you from doing irreversible damage to your body.

“I guess..” you shrug nonchalantly, “it was alright.”

“Well that blowjob you gave me was more than just an alright,” he happily boasts. You probably made his whole year with what you did.

“Does your wife suck your dick as good as I do?” You tease him, you don’t even know why you would say that but the look on his face turned sour.

“Why are you even bringing her up? This doesn’t have jackshit to do with her,” he says almost annoyed, “but yes, you do. Just don’t bring her up again please.”

You struck a nerve with that one, you wanted to keep egging him on but now probably isn’t a good time. You simply let it go and sit back in your seat quietly. You know why he gets so defensive about the subject but it just baffles you how he does it yet doesn’t bat at eye about cheating on her. It makes you feel so guilty you keep doing this but Jungkook really does make you happy, it’s a double edged sword.

“I’m sorry if I upset you y/n” he says, “I just really prefer not to talk about her, especially when I’m with you. I pretty much forget she exists when we’re together.”

You smiled but you still felt broken on the inside, you feel so bad for Soyeon, his wife doesn’t deserve any of this at all, no matter the circumstances. However, you don’t know her personally so it is true that you didn’t owe her any loyalty, it was just a principle/morality thing. You were thinking about how crushed she will probably be once she finds out Jungkook is divorcing her, if she ever found you were in the picture all hell could break loose.

“Will she ever find out?” You couldn’t help but ask, you don’t know how long he’d able to keep this secret from her for.

“No, I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t care if you told your friends about me, knowing you they already know by now. But if it gets out, I’ll be so angry with you y/n, I seriously wouldn’t know what to do.”

You were silent, you know he was dead serious when he said that. You didn’t get the chance to tell anyone besides Yeonjun and he’s not the type to go around telling everyone your business. You had nothing to worry about yet his words still cut deep.

“I didn’t tell anyone Jungkook…” you fidget with your hands and look out the window, you feel like you’ve been in this car for ages.

“When are we finally getting to the rehearsal oh my god, feels like I’ve been in this damn car forever!” You complain to him like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Calm down, we’ll be there in like 2 minutes. It’s kinda far from where we live,” he turns up a corner and drives into a large parking lot with lots of other cars parked there. He stops the car and gets out to open the door for you, you step out the car and he holds your hand in his. You were a little confused since Jungkook doesn’t like to show PDA in public but you go with it anyway.

You head into the historic looking building, as soon as you stepped in you felt claustrophobic. There were people everywhere. Hundreds of models scattered the venue, everyone all dolled up or being in the process of it. The speakers blared loud, catchy pop music as you made your way through the crowds of people. Jungkook was still holding onto you to make sure you wouldn’t get lost, you held onto him tightly since you were feeling anxious.

People kept coming up to him and greeting him, he was still holding your hand the entire time, you were receiving vicious looks from some of the models. You felt all eyes on you and you weren’t even dressed up, you had the most normal clothes on, nothing fancy. You felt like such a peasant around everyone but you soon won’t be once you get dressed up. Jungkook takes you to a private area where there was no one else around. He tells you to stay put while he goes to get one of the staff to do your makeup and hair for the rehearsal.

“I’ll be in the conference room, it’s the door on the right next to that bathroom down the hall. If you need me just knock or text me and I’ll come to you. See you in an hour doll,” he gives you a chaste kiss before leaving out.

You were now left alone, waiting for someone else to come in. You hear some light laughter from outside the door, overhearing some girls talking to each other.

“You noticed that new girl? I don’t even know her name she’s so irrelevant, but have you seen the way she acts? So snobby.” One of the girls spoke.

“Oh I think I know who you’re talking about, the one who follows around Jungkook like a lost puppy all the time?” Another girl chimes in.

“Yeah her. She seems likes such an entitled bitch, you would think she’s fucking him by the way she’s attached to that man like a magnet!”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they actually are. Some girls have no shame and will do anything to get to the top.”

“I know right? And doesn’t he have a wife too? That would be so disgusting of her.”

You couldn’t listen anymore, you knew they were talking exactly about you. Your biggest fear came into fruition now, everyone thinks you slept your way to the top and it doesn’t help that Jungkook treats you with blatant favoritism. It’s only a matter of time before people start talking and rumors about you sleeping together will spread like wildfire. This industry thrives on gossip, it won’t take long for something like to start getting around. You worry even more about the outcome but before you could think of anything else, the makeup and hairstylist comes in to do their job. You sigh as you weren’t sure what to do now, you don’t want to text Jungkook and tell him the other models are talking shit about you incase he asks who. You have no idea who even said it since you only heard their voices, it could be literally anyone.

Sitting back in the chair, the makeup artist was applying glittery eyeshadow while the hairstylist blows out your hair. You try and relax while everything gets done but you couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“Can you stop twitching your eye like that?” The makeup artist asks you politely, you felt so bad that you couldn’t conceal your movement. You tried hard to sit still and keep a straight face but it was much harder than it looked.

Once you were finally done and the makeup and hair stylists were satisfied with the look, you study yourself in the mirror to assess your new appearance. Your hair was super big and poofy, almost like the hairstyles from the 80’s, your lips were accented with red lipstick and you felt like a movie star in this get up. You looked so different yet it suited you well, you looked like the most gorgeous version of yourself you could be. You thanked them for making you look so beautiful and you couldn’t stop touching hair but the hair stylist told you not to.

“Yeonjun will be there with your change of clothes soon, thanks for your time!” The makeup artist says to you as they both walk out.

A pink haired man appears in the room and you can see Yeonjun’s whole demeanor shift from earlier. He looked either exhausted, annoyed, or both. You wonder what’s on his mind so you ask him how he’s feeling. He lets out a deep sigh and regains his composure, “sorry if I seem a little off today, I got in a tiny argument with my boyfriend and just— ugh he’s really pissing me off right now!”

You giggle at his attitude, he doesn’t talk about his outside life with you much and you know he has a boyfriend but everything seemed fine whenever he would talk about him.

“Do you want to talk about it? If not, it’s totally okay I understand. Men are just the worst in general,” you say in support for your friend.

“It’s just he’s always complaining about me being busy with work and I try to make time for him when I can! It just seems like it’s never enough for him…”

You sympathize with him as you remember the many times you had with your exes when they’d get mad at you for not spending enough time with them. You know the feeling but you do your best not to talk about yourself and just focus on consoling your friend.

“I totally get it. I can see where you’re coming from and I can also see his side as well. Maybe he just gets jealous easily? I mean you do work with attractive people all day, maybe if you reassure him that you only care about him and your work life shouldn’t interfere with your relationship.”

You couldn’t believe you gave such sound advice to someone. You articulated yourself well and got straight to the point, you mentally give yourself a pat on the back.

“Thanks y/n, I realize that I probably don’t tell him enough everyday that I love him, I just assume he already knows that but I guess it’s nice to say y’know?”

You nod in agreement. You were glad that you could help Yeonjun feel better and his mood became more upbeat. You felt good that he was comfortable enough to be vulnerable with you and it only made your friendship stronger. Maybe Yeonjun will be your new best friend, forget Sakura.

“I know you weren’t comfortable with the last outfit so I brought a different dress this time,” he says, bringing the dress over to you and you were in awe of what was in front of you. You couldn’t believe you were about to wear something this stunning, the dress reached all the way to the floor, it looked like something straight off someone from the Met Gala.

The gown was structured beautifully, it was a royal purple color with lots of layers to it. The top was a bustier bodice with a deep v-neckline, the waist was corset-like, it had tulle mesh bell sleeves with 3D butterfly accents all over and the bottom had a puffy ballgown style with more tulle underneath.

Once you got in the dress you felt like a real princess in her castle. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to how amazing you always look when you’re in model mode. The corset cinched your waist in so perfectly, giving you the sexiest hourglass figure. Everything about you just became one hundred times better, you couldn’t get enough of how insanely hot you looked.

“I look so damn good, wow! I can’t even recognize myself.” You say to Yeonjun, not taking your eyes off your pretty reflection.

“You always look great y/n, but I must admit you become spicier when you’re all dressed up!” He says, giving you the much needed compliments you deserve.

You now had to go back out into the real world, back where all the other models that despised you will be. You take a deep breath as you open the door to make your way back out and it was still complete chaos. You don’t see Jungkook anywhere and Yeonjun told you to go to the room where the rehearsal will be held. You hope to God that Jungkook will be there since you have no idea what you’re doing.

You had to get through so many people just to make it across the other side, you kept feeling all the stares on you and you couldn’t stop thinking about what those girls were saying about you earlier. It really upset you that people had already prejudged you for simply existing, they knew nothing about you yet already thought you were a bitch. It’s not a good feeling to know that others around you don’t like you but to hear it yourself was one thing.

You eventually make it to the rehearsal room and you were met with one of the backstage managers to instruct you where to go. You go behind the curtain and head backstage to where all the other models were, again the room was chaotic yet in a functional way. A stylist comes up to you to check over your look and fine tune some things about your hair and makeup. You still didn’t see Jungkook anywhere and it was starting to worry you.

You decide to text him and ask him where he was, he texts you a few seconds later and tells you he’s in the bathroom but he’s at the rehearsal. You feel your whole body relax when you read that, at least he will be here with you any minute now.

You feel a hand sneak up behind you to tap your shoulder, you turn around instantly and you’re met face to face with Jungkook.

“There you are!” You say to him happily, he was the only person you needed to see right now.

“Hey gorgeous,” he says with a huge grin on his face, “whoever did your look I need to give them a raise because wow you are smoking hot!”

You blush at him flirting with you, unsure of how to react since he was saying this in front of so many people. The fact he just casually flirts with you in front the models makes you feel even more self conscious about what was said about you earlier.

“Thanks Kook..” you say shyly, trying not make it so obvious that you’re practically in love with this man.

Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off you though and it was only making your body temperature rise to boiling levels. If there weren’t so many people here you would’ve been making out with him by now.

You were trying to play it cool as one of the models came up to Jungkook.

“Hey Jungkook, I was wondering if you were free after this? I could really use a massage, I’ve been working so hard latelyy,” the blonde woman confidently waltzed in between, you were in utter disbelief by the way she just asked that so casually. You know she has no idea who you are but it still felt like a huge slap in the face. Jungkook wasn’t really paying attention to her and was still looking over at you, he chuckled at her advance but before he could even get a word out you spoke for him.

“Actually he’s busy tonight!” You bark at her in a harsh tone, you know you shouldn’t have butted in the conversation but you couldn’t help being protective over him. He was yours.

“I don’t think I was talking to you was I?” The girl snarks back at you, “I said Jungkook, not whatever the hell your name is.”

“Her name is y/n. Also thanks for the offer Somi but I think I’ll pass.” Jungkook says, shutting her down completely.

“Oh, well then let me know if you change your mind!” Somi tries in attempt to safe herself from the embarrassment.

“I won’t.” Jungkook mutters under his breath. You feel like Somi heard it by the way she did a double take and glared at him with evil eyes. You couldn’t help but laugh at the whole ordeal, it was sad how some of these girls threw themselves at any chance to be with Jungkook. You didn’t have to do any of this to even get him to pay attention to you, he was the one that chased after you the whole time. It made you feel special that you had that effect on him, it was like once he saw you he had tunnel vision.

“Are we good to go boss?” One of the directors asks Jungkook before the rehearsal starts and he nods his head. The director whistles loudly to get everyone’s attention as they stop what they were doing to listen. He instructs all the models to line up and get into single file, you were the first in line since you were the opening of the show and it made you even more nervous. You knew this had to be absolutely perfect for Jungkook, you couldn’t make any minor mistakes or else you’ll disappoint him. You couldn’t let him down so you took a deep breath as you wait for the director to queue the music. Once the music turns on and you go into work mode and relax yourself. You think about all the things you learned in your modeling courses so far and how they taught you to exude confidence as you walk. You make your way down the aisle and place your hands on your hips like the director instructed you to do so.

Keeping your posture as straight as possible, you take long strides down the stage with your feet balanced in a straight line. Your facial expression was natural yet you kept a strong gaze, you wanted your eyes to do all the talking. You let everything flow naturally as you kept walking, reaching the end of the stage you stop then make a pivot to the right and give a slight pose. You turn around and do the same thing you did as before, taking long strides and keeping the energy up. You walk back to the curtains and you felt so accomplished with what you just did. It was if the whole world meant nothing to you in that moment, the lights didn’t give you a headache, the people in the crowd didn’t bother you, you felt immensely proud of yourself. The stilettos you were wearing were so tall and had the thinnest heel but you got through it anyway, it amazed you how far you’ve come already.

You watch as another model steps on stage now, you’re actually glad that you were the first one since now everything was done and over with. You’d have more time to feel anxious about it and become more stressed out if you waited in the line longer. Jungkook finds you and comes up to you clapping his hands in amusement from what he saw from you, his smile was everything you needed to know that he was immensely proud of you.

“Such an amazing job out there y/n, you killed it. You’re such a natural born talent, I swear you’re going to change my life!” He says out loud, he always praised you as if you were God’s greatest gift to earth and it made you melt each and every time.

“Thank you so much Jungkook,” you say to him while going in for a hug and he hugs you back instantly. He goes one step further to even pick you up and twirl you around like a little doll, he put you down and you couldn’t stop giggling. Everyone in the room was looking at two, it was so obvious that the other models were jealous they didn’t even try to hide it. One of the girls muttered “get a room” as they walked by and you heard it. You were now blushing from embarrassment and Jungkook looks around too to make everyone stop staring at you.

He whispers something in your ear “don’t worry about these girls, they’re harmless. If they even try to start shit with you I’ll handle it.”

You nod and just watch as Jungkook leaves you again to go check on the rehearsal.

As the rehearsal comes to an end, everything starts to wind down. Jungkook was talking a bunch of staff and other people while you waited patiently for him to finish so you could go home. You were now out of the fancy designer clothes but you still felt pretty with your hair and makeup. Jungkook couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you from time to time while talking to them, he just loved looking at you. You were the most precious little angel to him and he wanted to protect you with everything he had.

When he finishes talking he heads over to you finally. You were so ready to go home and you felt completely exhausted by the whole day.

“Is it time to go now Kook?” You ask impatiently, you couldn’t wait to get your much needed rest.

“Actually y/n, there’s an after party that I have to attend. I was hoping you’d come along since I could really use the company,” he says, gently rubbing the palms of your hands with his fingers.

“Do you really have to go to it? I’m usually all for a night out but I just been doing stuff all day and I’m so tired! Please, just stay in this once?” You plead as you make a cute pout with your lips, you know the pouting always works with him.

“I really can’t…I just don’t want to let all my colleagues down if I don’t show up since it is my campaign after at all..”

“So what? They can still have a good time without you there, they don’t need you to survive Jungkook!” You practically beg, praying that he finally gives in.

“Actually they kinda do because most of them are on my pay roll— you know what that’s not the point. You’re right y/n, I’ll just tell them I had to take care of something.”

Your face lights up at his response, you were glad that you were able to get through to him. You grab his hand to leave but he tells you he has to say his fellow goodbyes to everyone before he gets going. You groan as you watch him walk away yet again to go say his farewells to everyone for the night.

When he finishes doing that you both are finally able to leave the venue and get back into the car.

“Is this another car you have?” Asking him curiously, you’ve been wondering since he pulled up to your house with it.

“Yeah, I own a couple.”

“Oh that’s cool, how many?”

“A lot.” He chuckles from his own answer, you glare at him since you genuinely wanted to know and now it was going to drive you crazy.

“Why do you want one of them? I’ll gladly give you one that I barely use,” he sincerely offers.

First he gives you a high paying job, then he pays your rent, now he’s practically offering you a car. You’re starting to think that maybe Jungkook is the sugar daddy of your dreams, yet he’s not even some gross old man that’s lonely. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world to have someone like him, just able to sweep all your problems away with no issue. It wasn’t even about the material things, it was just the fact that he went out of his way to constantly take care of you. You never had someone in your life so nurturing towards you, your own family didn’t even treat you this way. You had so many feelings for him that you couldn’t contain it anymore, you just had to say it.

“I think I’m in love with you.” You blurt out, you didn’t expect to actually say it.

“Because I’ll give you a car? That’s kinda shallow don’t you think?” He jokes with you.

“No- oh my God shut up. I mean in general Jungkook, I’m really falling in love with you and I don’t know what to do…”

“Well there’s really nothing to do. I’m also really in love with you which is why I would do anything for you.” He admits.

You wanted to cry at what he said. His voice sounded so soft, so sweet, everything he was saying to you was like music to your ears. You couldn’t let him say that without asking for something in return though.

“If you really loved me, you will file this divorce quickly so I won’t have to deal with this much longer..” you say in hopes that he’ll consider doing it.

“I will. I have the papers signed on my end but I’ve just been meaning to give them to her…”

“Do it tomorrow! I don’t like sleeping with married people, it makes me feel dirty.” You say while crossing your arms and pouting again.

He reassures everything will be fine, “I’ll try my best for you y/n.”

Jungkook was saying all the right things but still, you felt so unsure about his actions. You have no idea what Jungkook and Soyeon’s marriage is like, he’s never told you a single thing about her besides being an actress. All this curiosity was going to keep you up at night and the guilt would only grow more intense.

You were at Jungkook’s place sitting on his couch while he made you both some food. You were watching a cartoon on his 98” flat TV and all the colors and effects were even more captivating on the giant screen. You see Jungkook from the corner of your eye now walking up to you with the food. He made you some soup with chicken and it smelled really good. You take the bowl from him and place the spoon into your mouth, surprised by how delicious the soup was.

“This is so good, wow I didn’t know you could cook!” You continue eating your soup and he smiles at your approval.

“My friends don’t call me chef Jeon for no reason,” he winks at you.

You both continue eating in silence as you watch the cartoon on the TV, your legs were crossed on Jungkook’s lap and you felt so cozy lying beside him on his velvet couch.

Once you were finished with the soup you put it down the glass coffee table in front of you and reposition yourself to lye your head on Jungkook’s shoulder. He gives you small head pats while still gluing his eyes to the cartoon, you finally ask him what cartoon this was since you had no idea what you were even watching.

“It’s Pucca! It’s a show I used to watch as a kid, I still get nostalgic about it from time to time.”

You didn’t know he was so passionate about his cartoons, you always liked when he would show little bits of his interests. You were happy that he was able to share these things with you, it made your bond feel even closer.

“You’re so cute sometimes,” you say to him smiling, snuggling him with him some more.

“Thanks?” He chuckles at your funny comment, “you’re always cute though.”

With that, he brings his hand to your face and kisses you adoringly. You lean into the kiss and feel his lip ring brushing up against you, placing your hands around his neck you position yourself to be on his lap now. You tug on his lower lip and he lets you in properly; taking his time with kissing you deeply before he sneaks his hands elsewhere. You could feel his body heat against yours and it was only getting warmer in here. You begin to grind slowly on him as he trails his hands to your hips, now holding them in place. You keep grinding against his now visible boner, rocking your hips back and forth as he held onto you.

You moan in his mouth from the friction and you can feel him throbbing underneath you, his dick twitching at any slight amount of stimulation. Jungkook breaks away from the kiss to move on to your neck, he nibbles on your flesh as he bites down gently to eventually turn a reddish purple hue. He scatters little butterfly kisses all over to make you grow flustered, coming back up to press his lips against yours again.

The romantic in you wanted him to take his time with you but you’ve already had enough foreplay throughout the day. You really need him inside you and you were going to get that one way or another.

“Jungkook” you break away from the kiss for a second.

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Can I ride you?”

He smirks at your words, you didn’t beat around the bush at all for him.

“Of course you can ride daddy’s cock,” he brings his hand under your shirt to fondle your breasts, “you don’t have to ask princess.”

He lifts up your shirt to expose your bare chest to him, toying with your nipples some more while kissing you before he takes off his shirt next. You loved seeing him shirtless, his tattooed body was ridiculously sexy. The mere sight of him made you want to have an outer-body orgasm. You feel on his pecks and biceps just admiring his gorgeously toned body, you could trace the curves of abs all day. You kiss him again as he feels your ass through your sweatpants, sliding his hands in inside to grab it tighter. His hands were so soft and warm, you loved the feeling of his touch against you.

As you two part from the kiss, a thin string of saliva connects to the both of your lips. He smiles at you and licks it away.

“Take your pants for me pretty girl” he says, “wanna see you naked already.”

He was so impatient it made you giggle at his behavior. You get up from his lap to slide your sweatpants off and Jungkook is in disbelief to find out you went commando.

“Fuck… you really know how to drive me up the walls don’t you?” He couldn’t stop looking at you up and down, he was so infatuated and turn on with everything about you.

He signals you to come back to his lap with his finger and you sit on top of him now completely naked. He massages his hands all over your body tenderly, enamoring you dearly with his touches. His hands felt like putty to you, melting into him like clay as you grind against him again. A moan leaves both of your mouths from the pleasure and you didn’t notice but you realize now that the TV was turned off.

“Take your pants off already!” You whine to him so you can finally feel him. He tsks at you being unable to contain your excitement for him.

“Be patient little one, I was getting to that.”

He lets you off of him so he can undo his pants and slides them down to his ankles. You watch him closely as he goes onto his boxers, bringing them down as well; fully exposed to his cock for the second time today.

You jump back onto him and kiss hungrily, your bodies intertwine with one another as you straddle him and position yourself to take his length. He keeps his hands on your hips while you rub your wetness on his tip, the moans coming from your mouth was harmonic to Jungkook.

He moved a hand to feel on your ass and he leaves a hard slap against it, making your ass jiggle from the contact. He watches and does it again a few more times, making you whimper from the slight pain he’s causing.

“I love everything about you y/n,” he says once he breaks away from kissing you “I love all of you, you’re so fucking perfect” he nuzzled his face in your neck and you couldn’t help but smile at what he said. He knew exactly what to say to get you to make you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

You lowered yourself onto him now, feeling the way you take him so easily from being soaking wet. Jungkook mumbles something illegible under his breath as your cunt swallows his cock whole. It didn’t take long for you to reach the end of him since you were already so ready for him, you stay in the same position to feel all of him inside you. His cock was splitting you open so nicely, it felt like you were in paradise.

Jungkook bucks up his hips slowly, wanting to feel more movement from you. You move your hips to match his rhythm as you gain your balance, pressing both hands on his shoulder blades. You bounce slightly up and down on his cock, feeling your walls being filled up by every inch of him. You shifted from grinding on him real slow to picking up your pace indefinitely. Jungkook throws his head back from the pleasure, the sound of his balls hitting against your ass with the combination of it jiggling as you rode him like a bunny was enough to make him want to combust.

“You always feel so good around me princess,” he groans while grabbing your ass, “this pussy’s going to be the death of me baby.”

You simply keep moaning as you continue bouncing on his cock, he was thrusting back into you to go even deeper. Your eyes reached the back of the skull from the way he was hitting all the right spots in you. It wouldn’t take long before you started screaming his name and crying out for him.

“J-Jungkook, oh my god—” you couldn’t stop babbling, “fuck you’re so good— you’re so good to me daddy…”

“I know I am princess, now be good for me and cum when I tell you to.”

You nod your head viciously, wanting nothing more than to let him help you reach your orgasm. You couldn’t stop moaning his name over and over like a mantra, it was like your brain was only full of Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

“You can cum for me baby, go ahead it’s okay,” he says sweetly.

You feel your high approaching so you pick up the pace quicker, Jungkook’s fingernail was jabbing deep into your hip as you continue riding him. You feel your walls contract from your orgasm and you moaned out so loud for him that you were sure someone miles way could’ve even heard that. You let your orgasm wash over you and Jungkook quickly lifts you up from being on top so he can finish his load in your mouth. You get on your knees to become eye level with his cock and have your tongue out and ready for him. He gives a couple strokes to his cock and eventually large white strings of cum comes in contact with your mouth. You swallow all of his cum, licking the excess off his shaft to make sure you get all of it. You tap your tongue against the tip of his cock and the dirty view of you doing it was making Jungkook’s mind go complacent blank.

“You’re so fucking hot” he says, caressing your cheek in his hand and then squeezing it playfully.

You simply giggle at him and get up from the floor, you sit back onto the couch to give him another sweet kiss.

“You ready to shower and head to bed?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m officially worn out for the day.”

You put only your shirt back on and Jungkook puts on his boxers, he leads the way for you both to head upstairs.

You immediately go into the bathroom and he goes into his room to get you both fresh clothes. Meanwhile as you wait for him to come back you were looking at the love bites that he left all your neck. You couldn’t believe he’d do such a thing since you literally have another shoot tomorrow. Guess you’ll have to just cover it up with some good ol’ concealer. You hear a commotion from outside the door but it didn’t sound like it was coming from Jungkook’s bedroom. A set of keys rustling could be heard from afar as you bring your ear close to the door.

“Jeon Jungkook!” You hear a woman’s voice from downstairs call out.

You slowly recognize that voice, it was that same voice from the voicemail in Jungkook’s phone. You were mortified, now trapped in the bathroom with absolutely no escape.

“Jungkook!” She calls out again, “I’m home, I decided to surprise you a day early!”

You wanted so badly to just crawl up into a microscopic ball and hide. You get into the bathtub and close the shower curtain so you can be hidden. You know Jungkook wasn’t coming back for you any time soon now.

Bracing yourself for the worst, you hear the voice grow closer as she headed up the stairs.

“Babe! You home?” She kept calling out to him but he wasn’t saying a word.

You were more concerned of her possibly finding out that you were here so you just keep quiet and do your best to remain calm. You were losing your shit in your mind but you believe in Jungkook enough to handle this. You just keep yourself poised so you can wait for this to all be over.

You hear the handle of the bathroom door jolt, you had it locked so no one could come in. You had no idea who was shaking the doorknob but you weren’t going to take your chances.

“Jungkook, you in there?” You hear his wife asks, now knocking on the door quietly.

“I know you’re in there, just answer me already!”

You hug yourself and rock back and forth to drown out the sounds of her. You couldn’t take it anymore, all the guilt kept rushing back to you now. You regret even being here at this point. Teleportation would really come in handy at this moment.

“Jungkoo- oh finally you show up!” She says in a chipper tone now.

“Hey Soyeon…” he didn’t sound enthusiastic at all to hear from her.

“Why is the bathroom door locked?” She asks out of curiosity.

You hear him give the worst excuse that you ever heard in your whole life of living.

“Oh damn is it really? I must have accidentally locked it or something, how weird is that!”

“I don’t think that’s even possible to do Jungkook..” she continued “what were you getting up to? Hiding someone in there?”

You know she was only joking but the irony of it was enough to make Jungkook become even more defensive.

“No silly, that’s crazy! I just accidentally locked it from the inside is all.”

“Well unlock it back, I gotta use the bathroom!”

“Then use the downstairs one.”

“What the fuck why? When’s there’s a perfectly good bathroom in front of me, stop with this nonsense and just open it already!” She demands.

You couldn’t stop fidgeting now, this whole situation was about to get blown up in Jungkook’s face and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

#jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader

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januaryembrs · 17 hours

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

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

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

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

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

previous chpt | next chapter

The one where Emily comes back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he believed her with everything in him.

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, the one thing keeping her going was revenge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They had found Doyle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t do this, kid,”

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

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

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

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

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

His smile wiped clean off his face at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is, the rest of the team except Bugsy.

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

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

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

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

Bugsy was laughing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop, let’s just talk,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wouldn’t tell her anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it legal?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A serious contender, but nothing that screamed their UnSub.

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

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

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

Unstable if there ever was a man for the word.

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

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

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

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

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

They moved in tandem, just like they always had.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. The one with the bank explosion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So like, is she his girlfriend or-”

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

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

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

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

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

If Emily hadn’t been there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god,”

“Penelope?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hated girl rules. He never understood them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighed, hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because crisis negotiation is overseas.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was going to be a long day.

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe they had a chance after all.

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So what was she doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Bugsy went down with it.

Taglist:

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

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

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dudeitiskarev · 3 days

Text

Your voice | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn reader

Summary: Aaron doubts himself as a father and husband.

Tags/warnings: girl dad Hotch <3; lots of self doubt; reassuring reader; hurt/comfort

Word count: 2.6k

Author's note: another repost! this was a request I got back in the day, and it was very challenging because I have an unpopular opinion about dad Hotch. But I managed to put those feelings aside and wrote this! And honestly, I love it, so I hope you love it too.

MASTERLIST

One of Aaron’s favorite things about you has always been the way you interacted with a toddler; how happy you would get, gently squeezing his arm with excitement before walking up to the kid. How your eyes would shine so bright and how even the joy radiated through your voice.

“I want one of these,” You’d said one day in a silly tone, more to yourself — and to the baby you were holding — than to anyone else who was around you.

That brief and adorable moment stuck with Aaron, replaying your words in his mind the entire day, and he couldn’t help but ask you about it later that same night.

You were watching some random movie you’d picked to fall asleep to, resting your head against his chest and his warm fingers tracing random lines on your arm when he said, “Do you really want babies?”

His raspy voice came out almost in a whisper.

“Some day.” You smiled and pulled yourself closer to him.

Since the moment Aaron came into your life, having a little human who resembled you both running around your home has always been part of your life plan. And though you hadn’t had that serious talk yet, that’s what Aaron wanted someday too. Raise a kid and give them everything he ever lacked and show them all the love he had to offer. He was sure that love would only be multiplied by a million with you by his side, so it didn’t take him much time to realize you were the one and ask you to marry him.

You were the last couple of your friend group to walk down the aisle. That also meant being the last ones standing without babies; at every friends’ reunion there was a new baby — or at least a pregnant friend.

“I want more,” you’d said to him at one of your very pregnant friend’s baby shower.

“More… cupcakes?” Aaron turned his head to you, giving you a dimpled smile.

“More of us.”

He scanned your face up and down with a smirk. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed your baby fever, it could almost come out of your pores.

Profiler or husband, he understood right away what you meant with more of us.

“We can talk about it when we get home.”

As soon as you settled on your couch that night you had the baby talk, and agreed over a shared glass of wine that it was a good time in your marriage to start trying. You both had stable jobs and you finally admitted to him how lonely you felt the few times he wasn’t home.

“We could get a puppy first, though. To practice,” you smiled at him unsure.

“No puppy, but we’ll practice,” he teased in your ear. “A lot.”

You did, starting that same night. And during the course of six months, you two kept practicing and practicing in every room of your home between endless I love you’s and kisses.

There were a few occasions in which your body felt strange as if your hormones had started charging already, but the test would come out negative every time. That short and painful silence after you both read ‘not pregnant’ was quickly filled with Aaron’s comforting “we’ll keep trying” .

To you it really wasn’t a shocking surprise when three tests finally came out positive, but to him it was.

Aaron wasn’t prepared and got too overwhelmed the moment you gifted him a tiny box with even tinier baby clothes in it. It took him a few seconds to open his mouth and yet all he was able to say was “ wow” while he hugged you tightly, swallowing the lump that was forming on his throat and blinking too many times to scare the joyful tears away.

It was happening. You two had made someone with so much love from scratch and soon it wasn’t going to be just you and him anymore.

The first few months were hell. To you, because your pregnancy symptoms were unbearable at times, and to Aaron who was desperate to help you feel better, googling every day different ways to get rid of morning sickness. But no vitamin or sour candy helped more than his magic hands – as you called them – massaging your temples with a little bit of peppermint lotion. It worked like a charm so whenever you two ended up being a hundred miles apart because of a case, blame built in his stomach, almost getting morning sickness too. You insisted that a phone call was good, but it was never enough for him.

Through your entire pregnancy Aaron tried his best to be there, and even when you’d had the conversation about his time-consuming job long before deciding to make your family grow, he still felt bad every time you went to a doctor’s appointments on your own. The pictures you sent him of your ultrasounds only made that feeling worse, but he never mentioned it to you.

Many weird food cravings, baby kicks and bump massages went by until the scheduled due date came. Hearing that first baby cry swelled Aaron’s chest with a kind of happiness he’d never experienced before, and the moment he held his newborn baby for the first time, her crying stopped. He knew that’s what he was meant to be, then as he kissed his daughter’s forehead, he promised himself to always be there. For you, for your baby, and that you’ll always have it all.

Time has always been the hardest thing to give. Something you learned to cherish with him the most since you started dating, so you were used to it.

Aaron… not so much.

If it were possible he would split himself into two, to be there for his family as much as being there for a victim. Most of the time, he chose the victim knowing well he’d find you at home safe and sound, and that was his best reward. And yet sometimes that guilt remained there, heavy on his chest and would try his best not to bring it home.

His sanctuary.

Ever since your daughter came to your life, Aaron felt safer at home for some reason. He’d get submerged in that comforting and faint baby perfume the instant he stepped one foot inside your place.

And tonight, as he tossed his briefcase on the couch and his keys on the small table by the entrance, that perfume was stronger, meaning you’d probably finished getting her ready for bed not long ago.

It was late and there was a chance you were awake, but he still stealthily walked through the house searching for you.

Each quiet room belonged to your daughter. She was everywhere, from the baby toys scattered in the bathtub, to the small pile of clean laundry on your bed, half folded.

When he found you on the warm lighted nursery, asleep on the rocking chair with your baby sleeping in your arms, he leaned against the door frame and stared at you for who knows how long, cherishing the view with a smile. You always seemed so peaceful, yet he could tell by the slight frown across your face that you were exhausted.

Then again, that guilt appeared — that ticking clock on the back of his head that haunted him, telling him to love you good and fast.

You were in fact asleep, but he needed to hear your voice. He walked up to you and leaned to give you a kiss on the top of your head.

You groaned as a sign you were waking up and with squinted eyes you smiled at him. “Hey.” Aaron crouched next to you, kissing your baby’s head too. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight.”

“You okay?” You asked without a particular reason.

He simply nodded as he kissed your lips, as a way of greeting, as goodnight, as an ‘ I love you’ , as an ‘I’m sorry’.. .

It didn’t matter. The feeling of longing when his lips touched yours was always there.

You nodded back and carefully rose from the chair, tucking your baby on her crib. Aaron was right behind you and wrapped one arm around your waist, kissing your cheek.

“I expected you tomorrow,” you murmured, turning your head to him.

“We finished sooner and I– I couldn’t wait until morning.”

“You took a commercial flight again ?”

Aaron raised his brows as he nodded.

He’d done that many times before when a case was in a nearby state (but the pilot wasn’t available until early the next morning). You’d told him he shouldn’t spend money on a flight if he could wait a few more hours, but he was impatient most of the time. The next morning was always too late for him and he never really looked at flight prices if it meant he’d see his family soon.

“Hey,” you noticed an odd look on his face, “what’s wrong?”

At that moment —besides his loud mind — absolutely nothing.

Aaron kissed your cheek once again and merely said, “I just missed you.”

While you two stayed quiet admiring how your daughter slept, Aaron’s only thought was how you were almost raising your kid on your own, how all he ever got to see was how good of a parent you were becoming and how stuck and new to it he still was.

“You can talk to me.” You snapped him out of his anguished thoughts and brought the hand on your hip to your lips, kissing his palm.

“I know,” he smiled but you gave him your classic not-so-convinced eyebrow-raise.

Sharing your life with a profiler has developed your own kind of profiling method. It was different from his, but you could read every raise of a brow, every lick of his lips and every slow blink. You also knew when those dimples you adored so much weren’t as genuine, that he was hiding his feelings as he used to do in the beginning of your relationship.

Aaron remained staring at you while you kept trying to read him.

“What?” He asked in a teasing tone when he caught a glimpse of a smile on your eyes.

“Did you know,” you started, clearing your throat, “that she never finishes her milk?” You gestured at your baby with your brows. “But whenever you give her her dinner, there isn’t one single drop left on her bottle?”

Aaron smiled, “You’ve never told me that?”

You turned your whole body to him, clutching his waist and in return he cupped your face, brushing your cheeks with his thumbs.

“You always brag about how she sleeps all night, too,” you laughed a little, ”because whenever you’re home she never wakes up, but that’s because it’s you who always puts her to bed.”

“So she’s not really a good sleeper?” He asked.

“The nights you’re not here are coincidentally her bad nights.”

“Sorry.”

You shook your head and smiled at him for a moment, then said, “You’re a great dad, Aaron. Our little girl knows that, I know that.” He cut you off by giving you a soft quick peck on your lips before letting you continue, “and you are the best – and sexiest – husband in the world.”

Aaron chuckled. He may never get used to hearing you call him sexy .

You two held an intimate stare for a few seconds. Those stares in which you say I love you in every language with one single shared glimmer of eyes.

You sighed deeply and kept going, “I know you only focus on the times you’re away, and I’m gonna be honest, I do wish you were home more often with a regular schedule but honey, that would kill you.” He sucked in a breath in clear struggle trying to say something too but nothing came out. “I met you loving your job, and I know you love us more than anything. You’re passionate about the things you love and...we’re still figuring it out. This whole parenting thing.”

As always, you’d hit the nail.

“It’s not a competition between work and your family,” you added, “and if you feel that way, like you have to choose every time your phone rings in the middle of a cheesy family moment… we need to work on that,” you teased, raising your brows at him the way he always did.

“I feel like I’m missing so much,” he said, glancing at your baby for a second. “I look back and wish I’d been there every day through your pregnancy. And now I’m doing the exact same thing. She’s gonna turn one soon and every time I get home she seems bigger.”

“That’s because she’s gonna be as tall as you,” you tried to lighten it up a bit, but it hurt knowing he was struggling with things you could easily get through just by talking about them. “We’re learning here, you and me, we’re a team and we can always get better if we work together. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“What can I do?” A sigh escaped past his mouth. “To be better for you?”

To avoid coming home one day and not find you.

“Aaron,” you stroked his cheek with the back of your curled fingers. “I love you. So much. I’m not gonna tell you what to do, mainly because there’s no need, you’re already perfect–”

No matter how many times you said that, that was the only thing he couldn’t believe.

“I’m so scared to lose you,” he whispered.

“You’re so crazy,” you chuckled; he didn’t. You tried to find his eyes but they were shut with a pained frown and stayed like that while you said, “Every time you kiss me, every time you hold our baby and I see how amazing you’re with her… I fall in love with you all over again.”

You closed your eyes too and licked your lips in deep thought. You hated the fact that he’d never capture himself the way you did – how truly perfect he was.

“I don’t see that ever happening, leaving you. I would be stupid crazy,” you assured him, giving him one quick kiss. “Unless you cheat on me,” you teased again.

“I would never,” he said in a very serious tone staring right back at you.

“We’ll be right here, then.” You circled his nose with yours. “I’m here for you, honey. Always, and if you need me to reassure you everyday of our life, I will. Just… talk to me, okay? You know I love listening to you.”

He nodded, returning the kiss before pulling you into a strong hug and stayed there, breathing each other in for a moment while hearing your daughter’s calm breathing.

“And she does too,” you half-broke the hug keeping your arms around his waist. “I tried telling her one of your stories tonight but... it didn’t work.”

“How did you get her to sleep, then?”

You snickered at him reaching for your phone, and after a few taps on the screen, Aaron’s voice telling your daughter’s favourite bedtime story began to sound out of the speakers.

“Is that me?” He tilted his brow with a slight smirk.

“I may have voice recorded you once or twice telling her a story?” You bit your lip and let the sound play as you continued, “I knew it’d come in handy. I’m not a good storyteller like you.”

“God,” he sighed deep. “I love you so much.”

And as he held your face and gave you one more loving kiss on your lips, the ticking clock froze and each time he doubted himself vanished, letting himself breathe at peace for the first time in a while.

“I love you,” You murmured against his lips, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “And your voice helps me fall asleep too.”

#aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner imagine

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ellecdc · 2 days

Note

ELLE !! OMGGGG i read a fanfic based on the movie flipped and i immediately thought of you and how you would eat this trope up or more specifically a childhood best friends to lovers !!

like one day either one or all of the marauders are spending the day with reader then all of a sudden the boys’ hearts start beating a little faster at reader’s laughter or they’re mesmerized by their little subtle quirks and now they’re like “oh fuck… i think i LOVE them love them”

this is not necessarily a request but if you decide to write something like this then YIPPIEEE FLUFF but if not then its just a cute little scenario to think about !!

this was such a sweet idea 🥹 thank you so much for your request 🫶

Sirius Black x gn!reader who he's - oh shit - in love with

Life hadn’t been particularly easy for Sirius.

He was born into a family not out of love but out of obligation.

In fact, he hadn’t ever really known love outside of whatever affection he held for his baby brother until he met his friends.

He’d been beaten, starved, ignored, and tortured into compliance all before the age of 11; and it only continued tenfold upon his return from school after having been sorted into the wrong house.

In fact, a lot about Sirius was wrong.

He had the wrong opinions, the wrong hair, the wrong style, the wrong language, the wrong grades, the wrong loyalty.

Sirius was wrong.

At least that’s what his family would have said.

However, Sirius eventually learned that it wasn’t him who had been wrong all this time; it was them.

And whilst removing them from him was very difficult - seeing as they were the ones who bred and raised him - he felt he was doing a pretty decent job of it.

Unfortunately, that meant leaving his baby brother Regulus, and you, behind.

From as far back as Sirius could remember, everything was always chosen for him; his friends, his interests, his hobbies, the volume of his voice, the clothes he wore, the way he presented himself etcetera, etcetera.

And though that was technically still true of his dedication to his brother and his companionship with you; the two of you were the only good things to have ever come from his life as a Black.

His friendship with you was a cherished one.

Perhaps one of the only people who truly got it; who knew what Sirius went through.

You were the silver lining at every grey and dreary Pureblood Gala and Sacred 28 dinner party.

You were his biggest advocate and protector when it came to his older cousins and the other older Purebloods.

And you were the only reason Sirius could bring himself to flee that horrid night in the summer before sixth year; he could only leave knowing that Regulus would at least still have you.

But it hurt.

It hurt knowing he had left you and Regulus to fend for yourselves.

He felt like a coward; like he betrayed the two people who he cared for most.

And he was still so scared; even now, albeit for different reasons.

He was scared because he was certain that when he returned to Hogwarts that September, you and Regulus would hate him.

But apparently, his fears were wrong too.

Because two weeks before the end of summer; two weeks before you would all be piling onto the Hogwarts Express to return to Scotland, you and Regulus showed up to Potter Manor wearing matching timid grins, yet seemingly no worse for wear.

Somehow, you had gotten yourself and Reggie out of the terror that was your familial homes, and were staying with friends up in Ottery St.Catchpole.

Sirius never really imagined getting to have his cake at all, let alone getting to have his cake and eating it too.

Yet, here he sat on a warm summer evening at Potter Manor with James, Remus, Peter, Reggie, and you around a crackling bonfire among the sounds of peeping frogs and chirping crickets as you told some grandiose story about you and Regulus trekking through a vast field where Regulus stumbled in a hidden hole in the ground and cursed for five minutes straight in both English and French before the two of you laughed so hard that you cried.

Your face was flushed and you were slightly breathless as you narrated your tale; arms flying wildly as you drew a rather descriptive picture of both your surroundings and your actions. Every so often you would reach over to shake Regulus’ shoulder as he hid his face behind his hands, laughing along with you and daring to interrupt if he felt you were overexaggerating some details or not painting him in a flattering enough light.

What was likely a rather stressful and arduous journey across the Southern half of the country seemed to be nothing but a grand adventure as you retold your experience.

Sirius liked that about you; everything was an adventure with you. You never let Regulus or Sirius feel too poorly for themselves for too long, telling them it was going to be great for their character development.

“I think I’m rather well developed already, sweetheart.” He’d grumbled at you once. You laughed like he had something truly funny.

And this was no different. From looking at Regulus, Sirius would never guess he’d just absconded from his volatile, abusive, and downright scary family; Regulus rather looked like he was retelling the happenings of a juvenile prank-filled slumber party (which Sirius would know a thing or two about).

And he looked good. Not like Sirius looked when he first arrived at the Manor; bloodied, bruised, starved, and soaked to the bone. Regulus was healthy, vibrant, and bright. Hopeful.

That’s the effect you had on people; you filled them with hope. Hope that it would be okay, hope that it would be better, hope that one day you might actually deserve the things you so desperately craved.

You had certainly done that for Sirius.

And looking at how good Regulus appeared, he couldn’t deny the same of you.

You were bright, animated, overflowing with a crackling energy and excitement that might even rival James’.

Sirius realised then that you were everything Sirius ever hoped to be.

Bold, assured, daring, caring, vivacious, kind, and so full of love.

And it seemed to him that the way the firelight was currently reflecting off of your face, as if the fire was somehow brighter from just simply being within your proximity, that you were far more beautiful than Sirius remembered you.

He hadn’t realised he’d been remembering you.

He had missed you; quite terribly, at that.

He missed your reassuring words, he missed your soft gazes, he missed your gentle hugs, and he missed the way that just knowing you were within his vicinity eased a ball of tension he hadn’t even realised resided deep within him.

And he missed getting to see you; like this most of all.

Lovely, happy, carefree, and beautiful.

He wondered how he’d gone so long without it.

Was a little over a month considered long? He supposed it didn’t much matter, seeing as it certainly felt that way.

Too long.

Sirius never wanted to go that long without you again. You were too important to him, too precious, too sacred, too-

Oh.

Sirius Black was bloody in love. With you.

Sirius Black was in love with you.

What likely should have sent Sirius spiralling (and certainly would have a little over a month ago) did nothing but cause him to smile softly as you let out a rather boisterous laugh that sounded like a symphony to Sirius’ ears.

And so, it should be commemorated for future generations to come:

Here sat Sirius Black… having his cake and eating it too.

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1d1195 · 20 hours

Text

Ding - Round 3

Read Ding here | ~6.5k words

Warnings: scummy man appearance, angst involving the frustration/grief/sadness of the last part regarding her shitty experience with said scummy man, fluff

Summary: Harry wants to know what happened to Cupcake. She really isn't sure she wants to tell him. Until she has to.

From me: NEW DIVIDER BY @babegoals THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR CREATIVITY AND SUPPORT AND JUST EXISTING 💕

Harry was mad.

Fuming. He had thought about nothing else but seeing her for the last two months and now that he had seen her, he was pissed to see her at his self-defense class. He asked her the same question about ten times throughout the instruction. He was furious and irritated that everyone else needed his help (even though it was literally what he was being paid for) when all he wanted was to talk to her.

He was all for helping women feel empowered. But he was mad she needed it. He knew she was feisty. The fact that she was there said a lot in its own right. The way she bantered with him until three in the morning texting him the other night made him smile more than he could describe. It was flirty and sweet. But always had him guessing if she would suddenly stop messaging for one reason or another.

Someone like her needed someone—maybe even someone like Harry—to make sure nothing bad ever happened to her. And he knew. He knew why women went to self-defense classes. He had been teaching these classes since before he owned his own gym.

He knew.

"Why are y’here, Cupcake?" He asked gruffly. The other women nearby were all but forgotten. One was mid-sentence, asking to clarify something Louis had said. Harry was practically rude to just ignore her question in favor of his own.

“Umm... for self-defense,” she muttered trying to focus on Louis’ answer.

Harry didn’t want her banter right now. (As cute as it was to him, despite his irritation.) “Right. But usually everyone has a story that... convinces themselves t’sign up. So what’s your story?” He repeated.

He watched the way her cheeks warmed at his assessment, and she folded her arms protectively in front of her. Guarding herself. “That’s kind of personal, Harry.”

Once Harry’s anger took hold, it was hard to backtrack. “Listen,” he shook his head. The annoyance that clouded his eyes and covered his face was so obvious, she felt the slightest bit bad about interrupting his lesson with her own issues. “M’not good at this kind of thing, Cupcake. Being subtle. I punch people for a minimal living and work the rest of m’time here, teaching people how t’punch.”

Part of her wanted to break down and tell him. Because as much as she was willing to do this on her own, she was so scared. That nervousness made her feel even weaker, and she wanted to tell Harry, she realized. She wanted someone to know and to help her because this wasn’t something she wanted to deal with on her own—it was too much.

But she couldn’t do it right in the middle of a self-defense lesson, surrounded by strangers. “I’m here to learn how to punch,” her voice was even and final.

His nostrils flared and he stalked back to the front of the room, a trail of anger coming off him as he did. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with her.

The remainder of the lesson went by without incident on Harry’s part. He watched her the entire time. The way she flinched when they practiced moves made him nauseous. But he couldn’t help but notice how good her stances were. Almost natural. “Hey, love,” Louis smiled at her kindly as he geared up to practice more tactile moves. “You liked his match so much you wanted to try on your own?” He asked.

She smiled, but it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Something like that.”

“It’s good skills to have,” he assured her gently, because even though Harry’s infatuation annoyed him at the time, he knew Harry liked her. A lot. Knew just as well as Harry did why women signed up for a self-defense class. “You have a very natural stance,” he noted. “We should get you in the ring,” he winked at her.

She laughed lightly. “I don’t even know how to make a fist,” she snorted.

Louis chuckled giving her a gentle shoulder squeeze and moved onto the next person.

Harry moved in front of her next and he looked at her footing. Aligned near perfectly and practiced as if she had been doing it her whole life. He was still steaming with anger. It rolled off him and demanded to be felt—and she felt every bit of it. “S’like you’ve done this before,” he muttered.

“I haven’t,” she answered. “I’m just good at following directions. Like a recipe, you know?”

He was staring at her feet and trailed up to her hand where he carefully took hold of her delicate fingers. Instantly, it felt like her whole arm was made of jelly. Her heart took off about the speed of an airplane and she was lucky she could hear anything over the sound of it. Harry touching her skin made her feel faint. Carefully, he bent her fingers and tucked her thumb below the flat of her knuckles. It felt so intimate it seemed wrong to be doing this in a class put on for the public. Holding her wrist, he brought her fist to his cheek and tapped it against his skin a few times. “Like that,” he murmured.

She wanted to be cute and smile. Say something like, I’ll keep that in mind for strangers in dark parking lots when I ding their car. But instead, she was overcome with gratitude for the knowledge and a bit of awe. She was speechless without meaning to be. He released her wrist, and she wanted nothing more than to grab his hand again and never let go. “Thank you,” she whispered. He nodded sullenly.

Harry felt defeated—something he didn’t enjoy at all. Rarely did he feel it, but he wished he felt defeated after a match more so than he did right then. All he could do was walk away from her and finish the lesson without chatting with her again.

In hindsight, confronting her in the middle of a self-defense lesson wasn’t his wisest choice. The following morning, he had a renewed spirit and was once more determined to chat with her and figure out what made her join a self-defense class.

What he hadn’t anticipated was how stubborn she could be. He should have known but he was willing to dig his heels in as long as she was. Harry went to the bakery morning, noon, and night—literally—trying to figure out her schedule. “Again?” The girl behind the counter asked suspiciously when they returned at four in the afternoon on the third day of waiting. She had been there all day and hadn’t said anything up until their third arrival.

Niall shook his head and sighed. “Sorry, darling. He’s being super creepy, yeah?” Niall elbowed him with irritation. They sat at a table as they had the last few days. They didn’t stay long, only fifteen minutes to half an hour. (And they only stayed half an hour once because Niall had to get one of the cronuts that he had been pining for since he saw them.)

Harry was looking at their text message thread. The last message was from him. Are you working now? C’mon, Cupcake, you’re killing me here :(

It went unanswered since yesterday afternoon.

“He’s trying to talk to Miss Cupcake,” Niall rolled his eyes. He missed the back and forth between the girl behind the counter. “But I think he’s being a bit ridiculous.”

“Oh, were you her bad date?” She frowned.

Harry was still looking at his phone, checking his schedules, and making sure he didn’t miss anything in his email or messages from his mum or sister. But the moment the girl behind the counter spoke, his head snapped up to meet her gaze.

“What bad date?” He asked, his voice low, menacing.

The girl behind the counter blanched. Feeling bad she revealed something she obviously wasn’t supposed to and quite honestly, if he was her bad date, that was a horrible thing to announce. It was a reflex. “I don’t know, actually,” she tried to backtrack. “I don’t know why I said that out loud.”

“We won’t tell, darling,” Niall assured her. “Do you know when Miss Cupcake works, it would save Harry—and you—a lot of trouble.”

“OH!” She shook her head and went around to the front of the counter. Her eyes widened. “You’re Harry. Context clues, I didn’t recognize you without gloves,” she smiled excitedly. “Thank goodness, I almost closed this place down.”

Harry turned to the girl again feeling a warmth pass over him at the idea that she talked about him to her friend. “Oh brother, so she does like Harry?” Niall grumbled.

“I’m Maeve,” she announced.

“Maeve,” Harry stood up and held his hand out to her. “Nice to meet you.”

“You have a very cute niece.”

Now Harry really couldn’t help but smile because that little girl was practically his own pride and joy. And she was very cute. Plus, it meant she really was talking about Harry to her friend and that had to mean something. “Thank you, she’s perfect,” he agreed. But then he refocused on why he was haunting the bakery. “Does she not work during the day?”

“She pops in,” Maeve shrugged and fiddled with the cupcake display. He noted there was a raspberry filled one on the top tier. He recognized that cake and frosting pair anywhere. “But she’s been mostly coming in after close,” she admitted. “She’s been a little...stingy with details about everything. She gets like this sometimes. Compartmentalizes things so she can deal with it when she needs to,” Maeve bit her lip. “She’s visiting her dad right now.”

Harry realized there was very little he really knew about her. Most of their chatting had surrounded the bakery, boxing, and Harry’s niece. There was a little bit of information about their education and some books and hobbies they liked. But there wasn’t a huge depth of knowledge of her family.

“Oh,” Harry felt defeated again. “Uh... I guess we’ll go then,” he mumbled. “Try later.”

Maeve sighed. “She really likes you, Harry. Really,” she promised with a sad smile. “She’s just...a little stubborn and careful with her heart.”

Harry nodded. “Got it,” he could handle that.

She parked as close as she could to the bakery in the parking lot. Thinking about all the steps and stances that Louis and Harry had told her during her class. She took a deep breath and opened her car door. As she went to the back of her car to grab supplies from her trunk, she noticed a plethora of other cars parked in the lot—most people were probably at the restaurant near the waterfront. But there was no way she could miss the car she had accidentally dinged with her door just a few spaces down and across the row from her.

Once more, her gaze met the intense green gaze in the driver’s seat. She sighed knowing there was no escaping this talk anymore. Harry put a bookmark in the novel he was reading while waiting and set it on the passenger seat beside him. He locked his car and hurried to her side, taking the heavy bags of flour and sugar she bought to tide her over until the delivery came to the bakery in the morning. He didn’t speak to her as they walked to the storefront. She was overwhelmingly aware, once more, how safe she felt with Harry beside her in the nearly deserted parking lot. She unlocked the front and held the door open for Harry to enter. “Were you waiting long?” She asked.

He shrugged, putting the supplies on his now regular table while she fiddled with the display case and cupcake display once more. The raspberry one was missing from the top and she went behind the counter to get another. Harry closed the door and locked it, so she was safe inside. It was dark, the only light was a low soft glow coming from the case of treats. It had the glow of a candle, and he wondered if there was a way to keep it that way during the day because it was so warm it made him want one of everything that was in the display. “Yes,” he nodded. “S’okay.”

That felt worse. If he was willing to admit it, it meant he was there a while.

“I’m sorry,” her cheeks felt warm. “I should have just told you when I was working,” she was willing to admit when she was wrong. Harry watched in fascination as she placed the raspberry filled cupcake on top. He wondered if it had always been the one she put on top. He would have imagined the chocolate ganache one was a fan favorite, or the vanilla sprinkles one with the little toothpick and label of A Pinch of Sprinkles on it.

He shrugged again, nearly indifferent. “S’okay,” he repeated. “Read most of my book.”

“Is it a good read?” She asked and grabbed the bag of flour Harry had settled on the table and started for the back. He grabbed the bag of sugar and followed behind her.

He nodded. “Yeah...it’s,” he sighed. “S’a little darker than I expected,” he shrugged. “Was hoping for something lighter.”

“I only read rom-coms in book form,” she smiled. “It’s very light reading, but probably not what you want.”

“Rom-coms?” He repeated. She nodded. “Y’don’t strike me as a rom-com kind of girl.”

“No?”

“Y’seem more like a film noir or suspense.”

“I’ve had enough suspense for a while,” she muttered and turned to her ovens to preheat. Harry placed the sugar beside the flour bag and sat in the same chair he sat in when he fell asleep a couple months prior. He watched her in the same way he had before as she flittered around the kitchen, humming to herself as she worked. “How’s the baby?” She asked.

They were ignoring the elephant in the room, it seemed. But it was the first time he’d seen her since the self-defense lesson. In between his visits to the bakery (his stalking grounds, as Niall was calling it) he had been splitting his time between training, teaching, and ensuring Driven, his gym, was working as expected. He had to call an electrician because the lights in the men’s bathroom kept going out despite the fact, he had already replaced the circuit and lightbulbs a handful of times. But he had gone to see Gemma and his niece two days prior to get his fix of the sweet little girl who made him feel so much better about all the frustration he felt about his favorite Cupcake.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Perfect.”

She grinned back and nodded. “Good, and your sister?”

“Good, thanks for asking,” he thought that was polite of her—he always noticed when people asked about his sister. It wasn’t often. Once the baby was there, it was like they forgot about the mum.

“Does your mom live nearby?” She asked.

“Yeah, especially with the baby. Mum sold her house the moment she found out Gem was pregnant.”

She laughed. “That’s sweet. You’re all close?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Mum’s m’hero,” his voice was filled with admiration so thick it made her feel wobbly on her feet. She wished she had that kind of admiration for her mother. “How ‘bout you? Maeve said y’were visiting your dad? He lives nearby?”

She nodded, guarded. “I feel the way about my dad, the way you feel about your mom,” she explained. There was a pause in conversation that seemed to stretch farther than it needed to. Maybe he was trying to get her to break first. Perhaps she did. “You talked to Maeve?”

He looked at her, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “Didn’t leave me many options, Cupcake,” he reminded her.

She swallowed thickly, nodded. “That’s fair,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you please tell me?”

She shook her head. Harry felt so agitated, so defeated. “Not yet,” the bit of hope creeped back in. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat and turned away from him. “Sorry,” she sniffled. His heart broke. Quickly, he realized it wasn’t her wanting to hide it from him. It was painful to watch that frustration fall on her face.

“Oh, kitten,” he frowned. He stood quickly and made it to her side. He put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly not wanting to touch more than she wanted or needed in that moment. His imagination could only guess what went wrong on her date and it was painful to think about for him. He wanted to comfort her, but it had to be at her pace.

At once she melted into his touch. She turned quickly, almost reflexively into his embrace. Her face pressed against his shoulder, her arms wrapped up around his back, and she inhaled shakily. It felt awful to see her sad, feel the anxiety coming off her in waves. But Harry was grateful to hold her so close to him. “M’here, Cupcake,” he promised. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, nodded against him.

Harry could live with ‘not yet.’ For now.

Over the next week, they went back to texting throughout the day and chatting well beyond bedtime on the nights she wasn’t at the bakery. Additionally, Harry walked beside her from her car to the bakery when she arrived and back through the dark parking lot. Not once did he ask her what went wrong with her date even though it was killing him. She wasn’t budging. She knew Harry was waiting for more details, but she couldn’t. It hurt and she didn’t want to think about it—even if she actually did want to tell him. It was overwhelmingly kind that Harry appeared beside her car—especially at night.

“I’m still really sorry about Clay,” she frowned. Harry didn’t park far away from her like he did the other night. But she was very mindful of her opening the door and not bumping into his car.

“S’okay,” he smiled and rubbed his fingers on the little indent. “Reminds me of you,” he winked at her.

Her heart fluttered and she looked away briefly before smiling back at him. “Like you need more reminders of me,” she murmured.

“Can never have enough, Cupcake,” he assured her. “Can I kiss y’goodnight?” He asked on the third night he walked her though the dark parking lot. Her heart literally skipped a beat. Speechless. He tapped his cheek. “Jus’ the cheek, kitten. Need a proper date before I really kiss you,” he acknowledged and smiled shyly at her. That boyish grin that made her weak in the knees. Breathlessly she nodded. His lips swept across her cheek. It was brief and soft. Like a piece of her hair had brushed over her face and tickled her skin. “Thank you,” he grinned. “Been dying t’do that,” he admitted and once more tucked her safely in her car.

Harry mentioned it only twice more. He never pressed or demanded she reveal the facts of her bad date. It was more of—what he hoped was—a gentle reminder. He was waiting for more information. All he wanted was to assuage her worries and fears. She attended the second class for her self-defense lessons (dropping off a box of blueberry scones at the front desk had everyone in the class asking if they could go after the lesson to pick out their own sweet treats). Harry continued to boil with anger just thinking about her using the moves he and Louis taught her. But it was obvious he was much less angry than the previous week. More so, his anger didn’t extend to her. He was mad, but he understood her choice to keep it to herself.

Louis was going over demonstrations using Harry as the attacker. Everyone watched with rapt attention. “Your goal is to get away,” it was repeated about a hundred times and Harry had the hardest time watching her every time it was repeated. Each time it was said, she flinched. He wasn’t sure she knew it or not—it was a reflex. But she did get away. It terrified her still.

Harry couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t pushing him away. Every night, she thanked him profusely for coming to the bakery and walking her to and from the car. She could see his anger growing beneath the surface. He wanted to know. She was trying so hard to brush it off. It wasn’t a big deal. Now she had two classes under her belt, and she promised herself she would never be in such a vulnerable position again.

“Can I watch you at work?” She asked randomly. It was a morning shift this time. She was covered in flour, and she had frosting streaked in her hair leftover from when she put it up after icing four dozen cupcakes. Harry didn’t think she could look cuter if she tried.

“Watch me?” He repeated.

“Not this again,” she smirked.

He chuckled. “Y’want to watch me train?” He repeated anyway.

She shrugged. “You always watch me bake and stuff.”

“You’ve attended the class, Cupcake. S’pretty much the same thing,” he reminded her.

He noted her cheeks turned pink. “Um...if you don’t want me to hang around then—”

Harry nearly gasped. “Oh, no. No way, kitten. I want y’around. I promise,” he assured her. “Jus’ don’t want you t’be bored.”

“I won’t be,” she shook her head.

That was how she ended up sitting beside the ring, Louis padded and guarded while Harry punched and punched and punched for over an hour. His breath was heaving, and his body was slick with sweat. She watched intently examining his form and his moves like she would one day repeat them.

When he came for water at the end of his training session, he was heavy breathing and smiling at her. He struggled to get the towel he had from his bag beside her with his gloves on. “Bored?” He asked.

“Not even a little,” she assured him, grabbing the little towel and swiping it across his forehead. It felt intimate and made Harry feel warm all throughout his body. “Can I try?” She asked with an impish smile.

He chuckled and nodded. “Come on,” he held the ropes open for her to enter the ring. She wasn’t wearing the right shoes or equipment. Louis rolled his eyes discreetly at Harry and held the pads out for her to hit. “Make the fist I showed you,” she did for both hands. “S’all the balance in your legs,” he promised. “No balance, no punch, no follow-through. Punch through the pad,” he explained and guided her hand to the pad slowly so she could see how it would look and feel to go through it.

“Pretend it’s Harry,” Louis suggested. “That’s what I do.”

She giggled. “I don’t think I could throw a punch if I thought it was Harry,” she admitted and gave her best attempt. It was honestly exhausting. She only threw a dozen or so punches and was breathless as she answered Louis.

“You’ll get there,” he assured her.

Harry scowled at him. “Take the pads off.”

“No, you lunatic.”

“Coward.”

She giggled, thanked Louis, and twisted herself out of the ring again. “That was fun,” she told him. “I can see why you like it. Plus, you’re really good at it.”

Harry was staring at her, the way that sent all the butterflies in the world directly to her stomach and began to flutter as if they were trying to escape. His gaze was firm but gentle, his eyes almost glowing somehow as he looked her over. “Please tell me, Cupcake. I want t’help,” his voice was quiet, begging ever so gently.

She looked at the floor, their shoes were nearly toe-to-toe. “I can’t,” she whispered back.

He nodded, defeat did not come easy to him, and she knew that. “I have t’shower, do some office stuff. Get ready for some lessons and classes,” he told her, his voice the slightest bit disappointed.

“Want me to watch you in the shower too?” She asked hoping to alleviate the mood. It worked, his smile returned to his pretty lips, and he chuckled.

“Hell yes, Cupcake,” he shook his head at her cuteness. “Maybe next time. Not here,” he winked.

Even though it was her that was forward it still made her blush. Plus, joke or not, she agreed here was not a good idea. “I have to do some errands anyway,” she admitted.

“I’ll walk you t’your car,” but she knew he would. It was like a safety blanket being wrapped around her.

She really liked it.

After her third self-defense lesson she was feeling more confident. She even showed Maeve some of her moves in the back kitchen. Shadowboxing the same way that she saw Harry do to Louis the night she met him. “I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to give the Queen of Sugar boxing lessons,” Maeve rolled her eyes.

Honestly, she was feeling better. More confident. Plus, she was enjoying her not-so-date-dates with Harry. There was one night when Harry wasn’t around, and she realized she missed him so much. Not only because the dark parking lot seemed more foreboding but because his presence made her happy. Happier than she had been in a really long time. It felt undeserving to be so happy but it wasn’t something she thought about when he was actually there. I missed you.

Oh? 😍

Sorry, I know that’s...

A lot...

I miss you all the time, Cupcake. Think about you all day.

The message made her warm and she wished she could explain how simple it seemed to just have Harry fit in her life. They were busy people, but he always managed to come by and see her. She enjoyed watching him train or sitting with Sarah at the front desk and chatting while he taught classes and lessons. Maeve teased her every time he arrived and she wasn’t there. Can’t you just give him your schedule? The poor guy is going to have to train twice as hard to get rid of the extra cupcake weight.

I like to keep him guessing a little 😉

Today, she was up front on her own—one of her employees called out sick and she didn’t mind in the slightest. Working up front was one of her favorite tasks. Interacting with customers and sharing her gift was something she enjoyed thoroughly. Her other coworker was out back, working on inventory and prepping the bagels for her monthly bagel sale.

Ding.

The bell attached to the front door signaled whenever customers arrived or departed. It was a busy morning. So busy that it took her a minute to realize Harry was sitting with Niall at one of the tables. Niall gave her a wave as she finally got caught in his gaze. She waved back, smiling brightly and paused the customers that were at the counter while she ran to the back and then to the table as quickly as she could. She pecked Harry on the cheek without thinking and deposited a raspberry filled cupcake and a personal sized loaf of Irish soda bread.

Harry felt as gooey as the filling on the inside of his cupcake. Her soft little kiss made him crazier for her. Watching her made him happy. Being around her made him happy. Happier than the little kid that was bullied could have dreamed.

Niall was making noises that would have embarrassed the porn industry while eating his bread. Harry snorted at him, tried to steal a piece, only for Niall to slap his hand away. “Eat your cupcake,” he nearly snarled.

“She could make more, m’sure.”

Niall shook his head stuffing his face of the treat made specially for him.

Harry liked watching her. He wondered if it was the same way she felt when she watched him. People obviously fell in love with her the moment they spoke to her. Unironically, she was so sweet. Of course she was. It was like she was a sprinkles-fairy. This ethereal being that passed out sweet treats to everyone.

Ding.

With her back turned to get another bag, she didn’t notice the influx of new customers. When she turned back, her heart leapt to her throat. She was lucky she didn’t drop the dozen cookies she was packaging.

“Shit,” she whispered mostly to herself. He hadn’t seen her yet. Fortunately, it was crowded enough to hide behind her wall of customers. All the progress she had made, the classes thus far, all seemed for naught at that moment. Her gaze darted to Harry and Niall. They were unaware of the turmoil she was facing while she packaged treats for the next customer. Her stomach churned uneasily.

If Harry just looked at her, she knew he would know. “Hey Lexi!” She called toward the back room. But Harry was chatting with Niall. Niall was focused on his soda bread. Neither of them noticed the anxiety that swept over her. Lexi doesn’t answer at first. Making her more anxious and scared. It shouldn’t be that way. He shouldn’t ruin the one place she loved most.

Niall now had crumbs on his cheeks, but his head tilted curiously in the direction of her main display. “Harry, something’s wrong,” Niall’s voice was quiet.

Harry’s gaze snapped up defensively. Sure enough, her whole demeanor had changed. Harry could see it. Her smile was tight, and her eyes darted toward the door and the customer in front of her more times in ten seconds than Harry could ever begin to count. Harry wanted to kick himself. How long had she looked like that?

After an eternity, Lexi finally appeared. She mumbled something to her employee and headed to the back kitchen. Not even a glance in Harry’s direction. Without fanfare, without permission, Harry marched his way into the back almost as soon as she left his view.

“Excuse me,” Lexi said. “Hey, that’s employee—”

“He’s fine, Lexi,” she answered quietly.

Harry found her in the kitchen, hand clutching the front collar of her shirt, her eyes lit with anxiety while she paced back and forth. “Is he here?” He asked lowly, while she moved quickly across the kitchen.

She tried to remember the last time she felt safe. It was her dad, right? Her dad before...before everything. Before she moved her shop here. Before she uprooted her life.

But there were those brief moments where she was overcome with how safe she felt in Harry’s presence. Walking to his fight for the first time. Each time he walked her to her car. How his hand felt when he pressed her fingers into a fist.

She nodded, her eyes watering.

He spun almost immediately to do who knows what. He didn’t know and she certainly didn’t know.

“No, don’t leave me!” She practically shouted before he could hardly take a step further. She started to follow him but he stopped at the sound of despair in her voice.

Harry groaned lowly; it came out nearly as a growl. He turned back to her immediately as if it pained him. “M’never leaving you,” his eyes were so dark and desperate—her whole body felt heavy at the seriousness of his words. Breathless again. “Please don’t ask me that,” his eyes darted back toward the front of the bakery.

“Harry, please,” she whispered.

His hands were already balled into fists. He shook his head. “Cupcake,” he grumbled. It was such an oxymoron in itself. Harry was calling her one of the sweetest things in the world and it sounded downright terrifying.

“Please, Harry,” she begged, grabbing one of his closed fists. “I need you,” she whispered.

Groaning again, he rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Fine,” he snapped.

She felt bad making him stay. She knew she was forcing his hand, but she was scared. To soften the blow, she threw herself at him. Arms around his neck, face buried in his shirt. She sighed with relief with the feel of him: solid, warm, protective against her body. Harry was safe. He proved that already and she still hardly knew him. It wasn’t hard. It shouldn’t have been hard for her date to make her feel safe.

Harry was momentarily shocked before he returned the hug, one arm looped around her back, the other cupping the back of her head. It was like the antidote to an disease she didn’t know she had. Another loud sigh escaped her. Like the feeling of Harry was cause for another wave of relief.

“What did he do?” He mumbled into her hair. She ignored him and scrunched her eyes shut. “Please, Cupcake,” he begged. She realized she wanted to tell Harry.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered. “I don’t even know why I went out with him...I had met you and—”

“Doesn’t matter, kitten,” he shook his head. “He doesn’t get t’make y’feel unsafe,” he reminded her.

“It was such bad judgment.”

He shook his head again. “No, Cupcake. He doesn’t get t’make y’feel that way. S’not you. S’not asking a lot t’feel safe on a date. S’not even the bare minimum. Y’don’t have poor judgment. Your judgment got y’out of there that night. S’why y’signed up for classes and—”

It poured out of her at that moment. She told him everything. In the middle of the story, she tried to downplay it sensing the way his body tightened around her with every word. Explained why she signed up for the self-defense class. Every detail and emotion she felt for the last few weeks. How scared she was that very night. Why she requested Harry and chatted with him until three in the morning. How he made her feel better when she didn’t think she could. How safe she felt around him in general.

At the end, Harry pulled away from her.

Her heart felt heavy. Now he wouldn’t like her. She was broken and hurt. Harry didn’t want to be a bodyguard, nor should he have to be. “I need t’go to the gym,” he started toward the front, and she thought that was it. It was the last she would see of him. He was too overwhelmed with how stupid she was. This wasn’t what he wanted. Someone who couldn’t defend herself or be smart enough to see the signs earlier.

“Harry, I’m sorry—” She managed to croak with tears thick in her voice and vision. Right as he reached the threshold back to the front of the bakery. He was shaking. Every inch of him. She wondered how he wasn’t a blur from how much he shook. In the moment it took for the apology to form in her mouth, he was back in front of her.

He grabbed her firmly but still softly by the chin, held her sweet face between his palms. Gazed into her eyes and shook his head slowly. His eye contact was overwhelming but still felt so good. “You are to never. Ever. Apologize.” Her eyes welled with more tears. She couldn’t do anything but nod at him. Her heart felt so heavy and broken. But Harry was looking at her. Taking in every inch of her face and he sighed. “M’sorry, Cupcake; m'angry. But s'not something you need t'apologize for. Y'didn't do anything wrong. M'jus' mad I wasn't there for you,” he whispered and brought her back in to hold her against him once more. Her body felt relieved it was ridiculous for him to feel bad--he didn't even know she was going on a date. She didn't want him to feel bad.

"It's not your fault either," she whispered. Harry sighed with relief and he kissed the top of her hair.

She lost track of how long they stood there. It could have been two minutes or two hours. All she felt was Harry’s warm body against hers and reveled in how good it felt. “Call me a half hour before you’re ready to leave here. I’ll come walk you t’your car.”

She smiled softly, hoping to alleviate the tension now that a significant portion of time had passed. “Even if it’s in the middle of the night and—”

He didn’t think her joke was funny at all. “If y’call,” he repeated, interrupting her, his eyes were hard and serious. No room for joking at all. “I’ll be here.”

He was rapidly making her fall in love with him.

“Hey Dad,” she smiled softly sitting across from him at the dinner table. He grinned at her.

“Hey sweetie. How was your day?”

“Good! Did you see the game?” She asked. He nodded.

“Your guy did well, don’t you think?”

She laughed, shaking her head and blushed a bit. “Max Kepler is not my guy, Dad.”

“I didn’t say his name, honey,” he reminded her with a chuckle.

She rolled her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. “I think I met a guy, actually,” she rushed out quickly.

“Oh?” He looked at her curiously, tilted his head ever so slightly and smiled. “That’s nice, sweetie. You haven’t had a boyfriend in a while. You need someone to...chat with, depend on,” he said knowingly. “I want to know you’re taken care of.”

“Dad, that is so 1950s of you. I don’t need a guy to take care of me.”

“Oh honey, I know you don’t. But I want you to have someone,” his voice was gentle.

For a moment she just looked at him. Thought long about all the things that had happened since she met Harry almost three months prior. It was a big deal to tell her dad about Harry. She wanted to make sure it was the right move especially after she was feeling poorly about her gut feeling. But she thought of Harry, the reassurance he gave her that it wasn’t her poor judgment that caused her bad date.

“His name is Harry. He’s a boxer,” she shrugged. “The raspberry filled cupcakes are his favorite.”

“Well, then he’s perfect. Right?”

She laughed, nodded, then bit her lip. “I mean...he’s...” she sighed forgoing all the details about how she was insane to let him steer her to his boxing match. How he helped her with self-defense classes. And why she was taking self-defense classes. No. She would tell him how they met another day. When Harry and she defined more of what their relationship was... if there was a relationship to be had. “I like him,” she admitted. “Then that’s all that really matters, honey,” he assured her. It felt like a blessing.

She couldn't wait to see Harry.

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