#but grew up becoming a criminal

[beauty-and-passion]

I love the analysis you did about Filbrick. The only thing that I disagree with is "Filbrick is not a bad father, because he kicked Stan out" because I do think that part of what makes him a bad father is that he kicked Stan out, that was a cruel thing to do.

Awww, thanks for reading my analysis!

Well, your point is extremely good. And yes, kicking Stanley out wasn't a great move coming from Filbrick.

What I wanted to point out by talking about that part, was that Filbrick's decision of kicking Stanley out was the result of a sudden spur of rage, mixed with the need to protect the other son. From his point of view, Stanley just admitted "Yes, I sabotaged my brother because I want to keep him stuck with me forever". Of course kicking him out wasn't the best solution, but it was the most instinctual one: your son is hurting the other? Separate them, before more harm is done.

But please, do not misinterpret my words: by saying that Filbrick acted out of a spur of rage (because that's what he does and it's clearly said in Lost Legends), I don't mean "Filbrick is a great dad". And by pointing out the reasoning behind it, I don't mean that he's Father of the Year and all fathers should be like him.

What I wanted to do was explain the reasoning behind his actions and how, according to him (and in a non-affective way), Filbrick was doing what he thought was the best for his sons and family.

Did he do it in the wrong way? Sure. Could he have done it better? Of course. Was it cruel? Sure it was, even though he thought it was the right thing to do.

Again: understanding doesn't imply accepting. I can get the reasoning, but that doesn't mean I endorse it. However, since it's interesting and it portrays a character more multifaceted than just "evil cardboard figurine no. 11", I wanted to show this to others too, so they can also realize that wow, even a background character can be compelling and interesting with some good writing.

(And nooo, this isn't a reference to another father we just found out he exists (existed?) and no I am definitely not writing one trillion posts regarding a certain someone what makes you think that)

[mantisgodsdomain]

Also have realized that we may have worded things oddly to exaggerate the amount of the Wasp Kingdom that is actually in active conflict but in our defence the power structures we currently have there have it so that whenever there aren't things to fight something like 40-80% of the Wasp Kingdom military gets re-allocated to Basically Whatever The Wasp Kingdom Needs At That Moment since they're, like, the Designated Supply Of Able-Bodied Wasps That The Queen Uses To Do Shit.

Marble is also banned from the non-combat parts of that setup, btw. Their particular tendency towards volatile-yet-effective is not something that ANYONE wants designing things that will be used in day-to-day civilian things just Around The Wasp Kingdom because generally you don't want your heavy-use architecture to Fucking Explode if you don't read and religiously adhere to the 120-page manual.

[imastoryteller]

How to Craft a Compelling Morally Grey Character: A Step-by-Step Guide

Step 1: Define the Character’s Core Traits

Identify Strengths and Virtues: List positive traits that make the character likable or admirable. These could include bravery, intelligence, loyalty, or compassion.

Identify Flaws and Vices: List negative traits that add complexity and realism. These could include arrogance, selfishness, impatience, or a propensity for violence.

Step 2: Establish Motivations and Backstory

Create a Detailed Backstory: Develop a background that explains why the character has their particular mix of virtues and flaws. Consider their upbringing, significant life events, and personal experiences.

Determine Core Motivations: Identify what drives the character. Is it revenge, love, ambition, survival, or something else? Motivations should be realistic and relatable.

Step 3: Develop Moral Ambiguity

Set Up Moral Dilemmas: Place your character in situations where they must make difficult choices with no clear right or wrong answer. These dilemmas should challenge their morals and reveal their complexity.

Showcase Contradictions: Allow the character to make decisions that might seem contradictory. For example, they might commit a crime to protect someone they love, revealing both a moral and an immoral side.

Step 4: Create Dynamic Relationships

Construct Meaningful Relationships: Develop relationships with other characters that highlight different aspects of your morally grey character. These relationships can help explore their multifaceted personality.

Use Relationships to Drive Conflict: Relationships can be a source of moral conflict and development. Conflicts with friends, family, or rivals can push your character to reveal their grey areas.

Step 5: Show Consequences and Growth

Illustrate the Impact of Actions: Show the real-world consequences of the character’s morally ambiguous decisions. This adds realism and stakes to the story.

Allow for Character Growth: Let your character evolve. They might become more virtuous or more corrupt over time. This evolution keeps the character dynamic and interesting.

Step 6: Balance Sympathetic and Unsympathetic Traits

Make Them Relatable: Ensure the character has traits or experiences that the audience can relate to or sympathize with, even if they do questionable things.

Maintain Complexity: Avoid making the character too sympathetic or too unsympathetic. The balance between good and bad traits should make the audience feel conflicted about the character.

Step 7: Use Subtlety and Nuance

Avoid Clear Labels: Do not overtly label the character as good or evil. Allow their actions and motivations to speak for themselves.

Employ Subtlety: Use nuanced behavior and dialogue to reveal the character’s moral complexity. Avoid heavy-handed exposition.

Step 8: Test and Refine

Seek Feedback: Share your character with others and seek feedback on their complexity and believability. Adjust based on constructive criticism.

Refine Motivations and Actions: Continuously refine the character’s motivations and actions to ensure they remain compelling and consistent throughout the story.

Example: Crafting a Morally Grey Character

Core Traits:

Strengths: Intelligent, determined, loyal.

Flaws: Arrogant, manipulative, vengeful.

Backstory:

Grew up in a tough neighborhood, witnessing crime and corruption.

Lost a loved one to a gang, fueling a desire for revenge.

Motivations:

Driven by a need to protect their remaining family and seek revenge.

Moral Dilemmas:

Joins a criminal organization to infiltrate it and bring it down from within.

Struggles with the ethical implications of committing crimes for a greater good.

Relationships:

Has a strained relationship with a sibling who disapproves of their methods.

Forms a complicated friendship with a morally upright police officer.

Consequences and Growth:

Faces the legal and emotional consequences of their actions.

Gradually questions their own morality and seeks redemption.

Balance:

Helps the community but uses unethical means.

Shows moments of kindness and ruthlessness.

Subtlety:

Reveals their inner conflict through small actions and dialogue.

Avoids overt explanations of their morality, letting the audience interpret.

By following these steps, you can create a compelling morally grey character that adds depth and intrigue to your story.

---

+ If you find my content valuable, consider Support This Blog on Patreon!

[minswriting]

DIRTY IMPULSES - Spencer Reid x Reader

About: Spencer prided himself in being someone that didn’t rely on their hormones when dealing with others. But when he met you, he just couldn’t help himself.

Warnings: NSFW Content, MDNI, Perverted! Spencer x Clueless Reader, dirty thoughts, masturbation (m), brief mentions of a case with usual criminal minds violence, etc.

Word Count: 1,000 words

Throughout his whole life, Spencer hadn’t been someone that was really interested in others. He prioritized education above anything else. He hadn’t really felt attraction to others until puberty. And even then, he didn’t deviate from his education. In his career, he was the same way. He put his work above personal relationships, his colleagues becoming his best of friends. He never understood the need for romantic partners or sexual relationships.

Until he met you.

The day you had walked into the bureau, dressed in this form fitting pant suit, there was a fire that ignited in Spencer. And he didn’t even know what it truly was. He had taken it as a sign to get close to you, to become your friend. And so he did. The two of you got along greatly, having much more in common than he would have assumed. You both enjoyed classic literature, you listened to him when he yapped about god knows what, you both had extensive knowledge on the cases you work on. It wasn’t hard for you guys to become close so quickly.

It was like you were made to be in Spencer’s life. To say he grew a crush on you quickly was an understatement. Your presence never failed to brighten his day. Your smile always enlivened the room. And the way you nodded your head as Spencer spewed random information, asking questions when you wanted clarification, adding on your own thoughts occasionally, well it made Spencer feel heard for once.

Each and everyday, Spencer looked forward to just being around you. At first his thoughts and motives were innocent. That was until one night, when Hotch had called everyone into the office on the night everyone was supposed to be off, and you came in wearing a provocative cocktail dress with your hair done immaculately and a face full of makeup. That was the day Spencer’s cock hardened at work for the first time. And from there on out, his thoughts took a wild turn.

It’s not like he meant them to. The average person has about anywhere from 12,000 thoughts to 60,000 thoughts per day. And he swore that at least half of those thoughts were completely normal. However, the other half? Well, they certainly shocked Spencer quite a bit. Especially as he had never been so…driven by his hormones before.

Anytime he saw you, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have you on your knees, looking up at him with those pretty eyes glistening with tears as his cock was forcibly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Messy hair, glossy eyes, the feeling of you gagging on his cock, the thought never failed to make Spencer cum in his pants. The first time he thought about that was the night you had shown up in that dress. He had to make an emergency stop to the bathroom before boarding the jet that night.

And now? Well, Spencer was at home, thinking about the case you guys had just finished. It took place in a rural part of Texas. A man had been murdering business women that had an “alpha” female personality. You and Spencer had to share a hotel room and the room turned out to only have one bed. It was like a dream come true for Spencer’s cock.

Night after night, sleeping next to you, talking to you about random things, accidentally cuddling one another. It had taken everything in Spencer’s power to not just bury his face in between your legs and make you cry out his name.

Spencer felt his cock hardening in his pants as he thought about your time together over the past week. There was this one instance where you had gone to take a shower but had forgotten your clothes. So he had to hand you your pajamas himself and he accidentally saw your tits. Now that lives rent free in his head. Letting out a soft groan, Spencer undid his pants, pulling them down enough so his cock was out.

He was already so hard and leaking precum just thinking about you. He whimpered as he thumbed the tip before wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping slowly. Spencer just seemed as though he couldn’t help himself when he was around you. Which is how he landed a pair of your used panties that sat on his desk. Part of him felt gross, ashamed. But his arousal outweighed the guilt he felt.

With his other hand, Spencer grabbed the fabric, bringing it to his nose as he inhaled deeply. He jerked himself off faster, smelling the faint scent of your cunt on your panties. Oh how he yearned to bury his cock inside of you. To see you whining underneath him as he fucked you. He would make sure you came at least twice before allowing himself the pleasure.

“Fuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back in pleasure as his thoughts were consumed by you. Your moans would be absolutely beautiful, heavenly even. Spencer could feel the heat building inside of him, signaling he was getting closer. He pumped himself faster, imagining how wet your pussy must be naturally as he sniffed the panties. And with a choked moan, Spencer began to cum, painting his hand and his chest.

He let out a deep sigh, finally relieved. And after a few moments, the shame and guilt overcame him. Spencer sat there for a moment, feeling bad about what he had just done. But that didn’t stop him when later that night, he fucked the pair of panties. And the next day, when you asked Spencer if he had accidentally taken the pair or if you had left it in the hotel, he had simply shrugged and shook his head no.

And two days later, you found your lost pair of panties in your go-bag, cleaned, having smelt much like the laundry detergent that Spencer used.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Real Talk: Ace Didn't Need to Ask For Help, It's On Garp

i always hate when i see comments about how ace was an idiot or ace should have just asked garp for help because, no? like dawg wtf do you mean?

the one thing we have been told repeatedly across the manga and anime is that ace could have lived his entire life being perfect and he still would have ended up on that podium

he could have become a marine, a police officer, a teacher, a chef and all of that would have been reduced to nothing the moment his parentage was discovered

yes, ace became a pirate of his own volition, but sengoku never mentioned his piracy

he never mentioned all the criminal activity ace did as the captain of the spade pirates or even later as the second division leader of the whitebeard pirates

you know what sengoku did bring up though the moment he got on that damn podium? ace's parentage

he mentions nothing that gained ace his bounty to begin with when he gets that den den mushi in his hand. why?

because it doesn't matter that ace is a pirate. what matters is that they are eradicating the last gol d roger's bloodline

bear in mind that they were killing pregnant women and young children who could have even had the slightest possibility of being roger's lover or kin

akainu deadass says that he doesn't care if every other pirate at marineford escapes as long as ace and luffy died and he would ensure their deaths personally. and for what? not their piracy. none of their crimes. not even for ensuring that the truth that certain countries and lands that were actually saved by pirates instead of the marines never got out

but because their fathers were gol d roger and monkey d dragon respectively

solely because of that, he deemed neither of them deserved to live

and as far as garp goes - i love garp as much as the next person but garp has never done anything for ace to trust him enough to ask for help even if he felt he deserved to ask

garp's negligent parenting coupled with the abusive words ace grew up hearing led ace to believe he didn't even deserve to be born. when he even asks garp if his being born was a good thing, garp can't even tell him 'yes'. he just says 'time will tell'. my brother in the blue seas, that is an elementary schooler questioning his right to exist

ace is defeated by blackbeard in episode 325 (chapters 434-441), luffy hears about his execution being set in episode 416 (chapter 522) and then finally ace is killed in episode 483 (chapter 574). that is 158 episodes and 140 chapters total and in that time what ace receives from garp are conversations that boil down to

"you did this to yourself"

"i just wanted you to become a fine marine"

"i don't have sympathy for criminals but i do have sympathy for family"

and garp actively preventing those who wish to save ace from reaching him. yes after akainu strikes ace, garp does react viscerally with instinct to protect his grandson, but that's too little too damn late at that point

garp having his moral dilemmas mean nothing when, however long ace spent in impel down, he isn't trying to help him

garp having his 'wishing things had been different' thoughts mean nothing when garp is preventing people from saving his grandson

there's a reason garp lets dadan beat and berate him when they reunite in windmill village and it's because he knows she's right

over the course of 20 years, garp has consistently chosen work over ace and luffy. as much as i love dadan and co, bandits are not a good choice to have raise your grandkids and then be the surprised pikachu meme when neither of them wish to become marines

garp's inability to see past the system he disdains yet clings onto actively shoots him in the foot

prevents him from seeing that ace is right when he says he never could have become a marine

luffy could have never become a marine. i do hear arguments saying that luffy might have had a fair chance considering garp is biologically his grandfather but i say that's truly up in the air considering how, even with that knowledge, akainu still wants to put luffy on a poster

but that's all to say, asking why ace never asked garp for help is ridiculous

the fuck would ace look like asking the man who has done nothing but

unintentionally fostered ace's resentment towards luffy in their early childhood

told ace it was his own fault he landed where he did

falcon punched marco halfway across marineford

for help?

and that's not even mentioning the fact that up until that point, ace didn't believe he deserved to live. he didn't think he had the right to exist. the only thing that kept him going up until that point was hoping he'd find an answer that justified his being born and his love for luffy and sabo. ace tells luffy in his dying breaths if it weren't for the two of them, he would have gave up on living a long time ago

yes, garp loves ace and luffy

he loves them both dearly but he is also incapable of putting them before work, before his ideals of justice. these two truths can coexist at the same time. garp's stubborn to a fault and his moral dilemma resulted in both inaction and the prevention of ace's escape

so to say that marineford would have gone differently if ace had asked is seriously undermining the character work. because in reality, it's up in the air on whether or not that would have done anything. ace asking garp for help could have gone either way and that's the beauty of the gray area regarding garp's actions during the summit war

and yes, i can get why it's frustrating that ace turned around to fight akainu when he could have just left and got it back in a blood a different time

but aside from ace having a temper about specific topics, we do get an answer as to why he couldn't bring himself to runaway when we finally are able to dive into his past with luffy and sabo:

he doesn't want to run away from any situation because ace is deathly afraid of losing something if running away ends up being the bad call

and in that moment, luffy was behind him

even if akainu hadn't talked down whitebeard, ace would have inevitably turned back around because he wouldn't have been able to shake his fear of losing something or someone he cared about

as long as there is something precious for him to potentially lose, ace will never run

he was doomed from the start

his being the son of gol d roger doomed him from the start

and that's what makes ace so tragic

[darthfighter]

stop whining

summary: you are presented with a high bounty you can collect named kai varis, he once was a former jedi. you conjure up a plan to reunite with a past lover to collect a bounty, but you are revisited with an old flame. will it light again as you two work together?

warnings: tension, violence, mandalorian!reader, character death, smut, oral (f!receiving), munch!qimir yup yup !!

word count: 5.7k

A/N: i powered through this for the beloved @nomarksonelegance who is undeniably my most loyal reader 😭 your support doesn’t go unnoticed. as well as @wooyoungsbxtch who encouraged me to write this <3 thanks for all the support bffs !!

100,000 credits. That's how much you would be rewarded if you captured this rogue Jedi. The credits that were displayed in front of you on the bounty hologram were like you were looking into the stars. You knew this price could get your foot out of the sinking sand taking you down. All your debts and needs. Especially those savory drinks you down whenever you earn enough credits to spend at Canto Bight.

Your memories start to resurface on that expensive planet. All the money that went down the drain, or especially the passionate nights between you and your partner. Your old partner, to be precise.

You and him had met once you confronted him on being a bounty. He was the hardest one to find or capture. Anyone who searched for him and succeeded, either returned empty handed, or simply never returned. You on the other hand had found him which turned into a heated brawl.

Although there was some similarity between the two of you. Neither of you knew it yet. Though at first glance people might think it was your similar attire. His helmet as well as yours. Your forearm is built of beskar to be able to block his lightsabers, like his forearm made of cortosis. The both of you built yourselves armor, but both of you deep down had something to cover internally. This, Qimir sensed. It’s why he didn’t kill you that day.

It’s why he lets you search for him repeatedly, and lets you encounter him more than once. Until you sense it too. Although you’re no Jedi. Unlike Qimir, or whatever he is. You eventually sense the familiarity with him. How he matched your violence, your anger, your rage. He resembled you, and you resembled him.

This brought you two to work together. Find criminals while maybe being criminals yourselves, but this was a hard life. It wasn’t easy. To get by in this universe was to make hard decisions or make mistakes.

Now you were both masked vigilantes in a way, working together. The two of you bounced off of each other well and it made you capture more bounties than you ever had, with the help of Qimir. He became a part of your life. To the point his voice would be in the back of your mind in his absence.

Then grew want. Your motive started to change. You ended up getting jobs you didn’t really need, but instead felt the need to be beside Qimir. The more jobs you took the closer the two of you grew.

It quickly went from gentle touches to tight lustful grips. From accompanying each other during meals to being able to taste the lingering drink on each other's lips.

Though over time, he started to become The Stranger everyone called him. He started to grow, in a way, grow away from you. Slowly become that stranger they all talked about. He grew more wants and needs that weren’t you. Even from the very beginning, he wanted a pupil. Someone to teach. Someone to become the power of two. The power you didn’t have. This causes heated arguments with voices rising and falling. You felt little, with little to offer. This led to you both parting ways.

It’s been a while since then, and in moments like now, you start to reminisce on the time together.

Although your mind stayed on him. This bounty was too perfect to pass up. Too perfect not to pursue. It was calling to you. The sight of the credits before you buzzed in your ears. You needed to succeed on this, and you knew just the right person to help make that happen.

–

Flying yourself to Qimir’s planet made you feel nothing but nostalgia. In a way it was overwhelming. The smell of the air to the sounds of the waves crashing. Just being on the planet made you feel all those feelings you once had while being here. All the memories made your eyes water.

Walking your way closer to the island made you feel less than. The reason being you have no idea if he’s really here, and you can’t exactly call out to the force to feel his presence. You just have to trust the fact he might be on this island.

You slowly shift yourself around the terrain and scan the area for any sign of his stature. The rocks tumble beneath your shoes. You start to walk alongside the shore with waves crashing beside you. You walk and walk, until you are met with him.

He’s tying a knot in a net with what seems to be his dinner inside, resting eternally.

The sight of him brings back all your feelings in an instant. Flowing through you from head to toe. It keeps you in place, frozen. Your armor stays completely still and unmoving, though your heart jumps at every chance it gets and bounces against your chestplate. You see him now, modulated from your helmet, and think of all the times you truly saw him. Unfiltered and true.

Without looking at you, he speaks between the distance “How much?” It’s monotone but assertive. There is no emotion behind it, just a simple question.

You respond to him, though your voice shakes more than you anticipated and your modulated voice from your helmet can’t cover it “100,000.”

There goes a moment of silence where neither of you say anything. The lingering amount of credits ring in his mind.

You look at him and take him in like the heat of the suns. Your body starts to panic internally at the realization about the situation you put yourself in. Going back to a man you have undeniable history with just for the sake of some credits. Or maybe it was you finding an excuse to see him.

Qimir uses his strength and hauls the net of food around his shoulder, still silent. He walks until he is a few steps in front of you, and stares at your helmet. He tries to find your eyes beneath it, scanning your visor. There is a split second he truly matches your gaze and it squeezes your heart. This makes the corner of his lip twitch into a smile. Qimir goes back to his trail and walks beside you, still saying nothing.

He was a man of few words, and whenever he did speak, he talked in a way like you were reading a book. Saying things like they were written, or like he rehearsed it. Never slurring or stuttering his words. He knew the exact words to say to get you convinced or to make you melt.

Though at this moment he remained unspoken, and you weren’t letting this trip go to waste.

“His name is Kai Varis.” You started to march towards him but leaving some distance behind him. You didn’t want to be close enough to breathe down his neck. “He once was a Jedi.” This makes him stop in his tracks.

“What happened?” He asked. His tone now wasn’t monotone, but rather curious.

“Fell into his feelings–” You walk a bit closer to him and continue on “Apparently he fell in love with a common girl. He was stationed out on a planet and fell in love with a farm girl. Maybe wanted to grow crops forever instead of his Jedi duties.” There was a hint of sarcasm in your speech, “I don't know! The point is, the Jedi council wouldn’t allow it. Revenge happened. Some Jedi died. They're trying to find him but are failing, so they’re setting out an award for whoever finds him.”

Qimir is still looking ahead, but once you stop talking, his head shifts slightly to the side. Almost like he wanted to turn and see you, but instead he continues walking on forward. “I'm assuming this isn’t an easy job.”

“I wouldn’t be asking you if it was easy.” You responded.

He walks and walks. Continues to walk. He walks even more, and still not conversing as much as you want. You are starting to grow more agitated and it makes your chest burn, you look into the distance at the suns, and you decide to set it straight “I’ll be on my ship until the suns set. If you don't make up your mind until the sky is black, I'm leaving.” You stop your pace and wait for an answer.

Still walking.

—

Sitting in the cockpit of your ship, you swivel your chair from side to side in anticipation. The last sun is almost set and it’s closing in on the horizon. The sky is growing darker, resembling the hope you have for Qimir’s company.

You start to feel like an idiot, now regretting coming here. If he does decide to not join you, the last encounter you two have is this short awkward offer instead of the true last time you saw each other. Your brain starts to reminisce on the warm embraces and passionate kisses, but you are shoved out your thoughts harshly by his gravely modulated voice coming from behind you.

“Happy now?”

You jump out of your seat a bit in surprise. While you were thinking back your memorable moments with Qimir, you missed the last bit of the sun falling in the distance. You turn to look at him, and the two of you stare at each other with your helmets on, almost like a standoff. Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you finally realize his teasing remark and shake your head moving your helmet side to side. You don’t say anything about it and instead turn your gaze to the dashboard, pushing switches and knobs to make it to your destination.

Qimir doesn’t sit in the chair beside you for takeoff, just stands in the corner with his arms stretched out in front of his leather poncho-like attire. When you finally make it to the sky, far enough, you push forward and set you and Qimir into hyperspace. The ship shifts with a force and the environment illuminates pure blue.

Without looking back to Qimir, you set him in on the scene. The planet you both are going to is a commonly known planet where fugitives hide out, in the hopes to get a hunch on this rogue Jedi. It’s a spread out community unlike others. So everyone has their privacy. The scenery is filled with trees so tall you might crack your neck trying to look at a whole tree.

You are met with quiet. Mentally you are hoping to Maker his silence is a sign he’s listening. So you let him be. Although you are left with you. You and your mind, and it starts to wander. On why he chose to come along last minute, why he’s not speaking as much as he used to with you, if there is a possibility he hates your guts, or if there is something he’s not telling you. You piece it together. After minutes of running around in your brain trying to put the puzzle together, you have a question.

“Are you coming along to not capture him, but teach him?” Your helmet looks back to him, and he turns to you, slightly shifting down as a yes. He doesn’t care about the bounty, he wants a pupil.

This makes your chest fill with steam and your blood boil. Both of your motives are different and you aren’t on the same page. You rise from your seat and stomp towards the exit, but before you can make your way out, Qimir softly (though it is deep and raspy with his helmet) says your name, and stretches out his arm to rest his hand on your forearm to stop you from leaving abruptly. Though you sadly ache for his real touch considering his hand is only on your armor piece on your arm, not really touching your skin like how you wish. No matter what you think, there will always be something in the way with you two.

Before he can say anything, you leave the cockpit to assess the situation.

—

Your mind finally settled on an option as you just went through your mental files of ideas. You stomped your way back into the cockpit with Qimir still in the corner, the force from the ship shifted as you exited out of hyperspace. The sight of the planet came into view making this situation become a reality. The reality is both of you having different motives. You know convincing Qimir won't be an option, you don't wanna waste your time. So you accept it.

“Whoever finds him first gets to decide what to do with him. I find him, I turn him in and get my reward. Or you get to him first and train him.” After your statement, you turn to him and see him remain unmoving. Until he nods his head down indicating a yes. This annoys you, even though you both agree on something, it's not what you wanted.

Once again the two of you are going your separate ways just like before, never moving or even thinking in sync. Always off balance.

Eventually you make your way to the overgrown trees of a planet and find a place to land your ship. You do so perfectly and start to gear yourself up. Whereas Qimir just has his helmet, coat, and lightsaber. You have your rifle strapped to your back, pistol on your hip, and cuffs onto your belt for when you capture him. You have more baggage, metaphorically and physically speaking. The heaviness on your shoulders was like a spitting image of how you felt on the inside.

As you both got off your ship, Qimir looked at you from the side, and wasted no time heading to find Kai Varis. He was determined, and so were you.

Obviously you went the opposite way as him in the hopes to be going towards the side Kai is really at.

At this moment, deep down secretly, you are furious. Furious for the reason being you both aren’t on the same page, and also being the fact you weren’t a Jedi yourself. Qimir always has an advantage. It was one of the reasons he was so good at finding bounties. Though slowly your ego started to rise. This was your job and you are good at it. You have no force to call out to in moments when you could use it. All you used was your brain and instincts. It has gotten you this far in life and that seemed like a good sign to you. As well as being able to fend for yourself, and especially defend yourself with pure agility. No extra bonus in the force. All you.

You’ll find Kai Varis.

You’ll definitely show to Qimir you don’t need him as much as he thinks. Even though deep down in your bones you craved him more than you’d like to admit. You wish at this moment you could take each individual bone in your body and clean them yourself, to get rid of his residue.

This wasn’t the moment to be thinking of Qimir. Kai should be your main focus right now, but Qimir lingered in the back of your mind. Infesting you like a parasite.

With every step you took wandering around the planet, your thoughts would focus on your mission with trying to find Kai, but Qimir would end up being the forefront no matter what. It started to frustrate you, causing more force to each of your steps.

Your helmet scanned the area and even highlighted every object around you, but your main focus was the ground to see if any shoe prints were made recently. After a few minutes, you see faded imprints of shoes in the dirt before you. The anticipation makes your heart leap, stinging inside of you.

You immediately dart towards the trail to find who it belongs to, only to be met with a campsite with what seems to be a traveler. He has a pot above the makeshift fire filling the air with smoke. He sees you, you and your armored stature. There is a sense of intimidation receding off of him. You slowly walk towards him, feeding into the intimidation. All you do before him is display the bounty on a hologram, and with your actions you ask if he has seen him. With no words, he raises his right hand and uses his pointer finger to point to the right of him. You nod your head down as a thank you, and immediately head that direction.

It took a bit of time to get another sign of Kai Varis. The suns started to set a bit more, illuminating a orange hue into the green leaves around you. The bright light shined through the trees, though you couldn't see much of the sight through your helmet. You imagined it looked quite nice. The next sign you saw was an empty food container next to a bush. You pick up the remnants of Kai and feel the warmth beneath your glove. Indicating he had been here recently. You scan the area with heavy breaths at the mere thought of getting close to catching him all on your own. His steps trace to the left of you, and you follow the trail.

The more you walk the more you see the trace appears more recent. You’re getting closer until you see a bright light shine through the trees. It’s a fireplace cracking in the distance with no one nearby. You cautiously walk towards the scene, finding remnants of a life lived at this site. With cans of food and a makeshift bed on the ground. Your neck goes from left to right repeatedly, until you come to the conclusion no one is near this area. Though they couldn’t have gone far, you thought.

Your heavy combat boots crunch below you as the twigs and leaves give you away, considering your weight is doubled by your heavy armor. You decide to bring out your pistol instead of your rifle because it makes more logical sense as you are on your toes and will most likely endure close combat soon. The pistol sticks to your palms like glue and your eyes are wide and open. Barely blinking in case you miss him.

Clashes of blue and red shine in the far forest.

Qimir found him first.

It was no surprise to you that he did, but it still stung your chest and made you irritated. You groan in an irritated manner and head towards the fight. Once you make it, Qimir’s anonymous alias is fighting against a once Jedi. They both move so fluidly like water. Both in sync, unlike you and Qimir.

In this moment you are on a ledge above them and decide to take charge from this distance. You put your pistol back in its holster with your heart racing more and more by the second. With shaky hands you reach towards your back and grab a hold of your sniper rifle. You switch the mode to stun mode, and finally see your trembling hands. You’ve had countless jobs just like this one, but this specific one just has too much at stake. Too much to lose. You tighten your hand into a forceful grip to bring yourself back to reality, and immediately get in position to strike from a far distance.

Your helmet aligns with the scope of your rifle to only have them move so fast you can barely keep track of them both, so you prepare. You prepare for where they will be. They seem to be moving to the right, so you aim more ahead of the right. The stakes are high, and you need to time this at the right second. With your finger on the trigger, you anxiously hold it until the right moment comes. You see Kai in your view and pull your trigger finger. The stun ray shoots through the air, missing him by just a second.

You failed.

Then Qimir and Kai’s attention gets sent to you. Their gaze pierces you like a knife and you feel frozen. Kai darts to you, now making you his target instead.

Qimir feels fear. Fear that you are now at risk more than he anticipated. With no hesitation he as well runs towards the fight.

Now, you rise to your feet and bolt the opposite way. Moving as fast as you can muster. You have no Jedi speed, so it's only a matter of time until both of them catch up to you.

From the left, Kai appears from behind a tree and sways his blue saber towards you, which you dodge. You are still holding your rifle and you have no time to set it back in place, and it's weighing you down. Kai strikes again to which you raise your rifle out of fear and block the attack. The rifle splits into two, falling to the floor becoming instantly useless. You have no time to mourn over your lost weapon, but instead reach for your last weapon.

You reach for your pistol out your holster and waste no seconds with aiming and shooting, to which Kai blocks every laser with his lightsaber.

You’ve fought many bounties and captured many, but none of them have ever been a Jedi. You feel little and at a loss. He has countless advantages on you, and he wastes no time using them.

With the force, Kai pulls your pistol out of your hand. He lunges towards you and you sway out of the way before the hot steaming blade can meet you, but you didn't anticipate for the blade to reach your leg. With a second attack immediately after his first, he slices your right leg swiftly.

From your stinging leg, to your stomach inhaling from the pain, to your throat brewing a loud screech, and finally to your mouth letting out a hurtful wail. You fall to the floor as the weight on your injured leg becomes too unbearable for you to stand on. You are weak and hurt. Defeated.

You know these are your last moments and you don't think of all your fond memories you had, or you don’t think about you're not ready to die. Your mind is blank, and all you do is stare at Kai Varis in front of you. He raises his saber to strike you, to finish you. You squeeze your eyes shut to face the impact of death and you hear the saber scream against skin, but it's not yours. Death never came. So you open your eyes to find a red saber impaling Kai.

Beneath your helmet, you open your eyes and see life wash away from Kai’s complexion. The red lightsaber disappears and Kai’s dead weight makes him fall to the floor harshly with a loud thud. Your eyes stay onto him, realizing the situation now at hand.

He’s dead, and the money went with him.

Your head snaps to Qimir, and you stare at each other with blank gazes against each other's helmets. You can't read his face, and he can’t read yours. But you use your tone to show your expression “What have you done!” Your loud voice echoes against the inside of your helmet and it hurts your ears. You can’t see what Qimir is looking like at the moment but his chest rises and falls at a rapid pace indicating he is breathing heavily. He’s not calm and neither are you. “Neither of us got what we wanted?!”

You attempt to rise to your feet to argue more thoroughly, but you crash back to the floor with your wound on your calf bringing you back down. Qimir offers a hand but you slap it away. You feel the sting of regret when you do so. You are harsh towards him even though deep down you are tender for him, but the stakes of this moment are too high for you to be fond of him like you always are. Your credits are washed down the drain, and you are only left empty handed and wounded. Not only that, you opened a deep wound in the process of all of this by bringing Qimir into this. Revisiting old flames.

Slowly and with ease you get back up putting more pressure into your left leg leaning the weight on that side. You limp your way back to your ship, refusing Qimir’s help in the process.

The closer you got to your ship the more you felt anguish below you. Your hairline was slick with sweat and heart thumping in adrenaline to keep you from passing out. The pain was unbearable and all you wanted to do was get off this Maker forsaken green planet. Slowly you made yourself climb up the rail with Qimir behind you. He was irritating you the more time he spent around you. Like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Finally you made it to the cockpit and crashed onto the chair feeling the weight off your shoulders finally lifted. With all the energy you had left, you flew you and Qimir off the planet, and set out for hyperspace.

With a raspy voice you asked him “Can you grab the medkit?” But he doesn’t reply. Nor do you hear his footsteps recede away from you. He just stays. In your mind, you think why must he be doing everything to make you mad?

Instead of his steps going away, they go towards you. His hand reaches towards your chair and swivels you to face him. With tired eyes, you do so. You look at him with your head laying against the headrest, but you have to raise it up to follow him, keeping your gaze on him as he kneels down in front of you.

With a gentle touch, Qimir wraps his hand around your ankle to lift your right leg. You wince above him and he still remains silent. His fingertips barely touch your wound, and he asks "So the only reason you took this is for credits? Nothing else?" He lifts your leg higher making you gasp through your lungs and inhale. You are straining your voice when you reply to his question “What are you implying?”

“You know what.”

Qimir’s words are intimidating, and it doesn't help that his modulated helmet makes it more so. With the force, he is gentle, and heals you beneath his palm. A relief washes over you like a wave and the pain slips through your fingers like silk. It is wearing off, and breathing becomes a bit easier. By the time you look down to your leg, your red gashing wound is no more. Your skin is bare and open beneath your striped cloth on your pants, and Qimir starts to massage it. He kneads your flesh like dough and your physical memories of you two in moments like this become the forefront in your mind. The moments where his big hands would softly caress your skin in bare moments like these. Those moments would be rather passionate and heated.

Although right now you are in the opposite. Clothed head to toe, and even with your facial expressions hidden away from him. You in armor hiding away doesn't change the fact your cunt starts to pulsate beneath you just from his touch. The familiar touch you mourned.

His hand stays onto your calf while his other hand reaches for his helmet, which he slowly takes off. Everything you wondered about under there is revealed. You see his dark eyes with a hazy glow to them, his eyebrows closing together in concentration, and especially his slick lips already licked from his tongue from want.

You start to bite your lip in the hopes to not let your yearning seep through your teeth. You grip the arm rests beside you tightly and the leather stretches in the air. He hears this, and his eyes dart to your tenseness in front of him. This makes his lip twitch in a smirk but is quickly stripped away.

Qimir slowly lowers his head to your exposed leg, and kisses your now healed wound. His lips are soft against your skin and it takes all the strength you have to keep your mouth shut. You don’t want to moan, not this early, not with that simple kiss. It’s pathetic how unraveled he makes you. But he doesn't stop there, he continues up your leg still kissing it even through the cloth. He plants kisses up your inner knee, to your thigh, and finally inner thigh. Your hips buck in a jumpy twitch. Finally he presses one kiss on your core, and you exhale more than you anticipated but you inhale it as quick as it came out.

He doesn’t continue, just keeps his face in between your legs while his eyes scan your visor trying to find your eyes. His head shakes from side to side in a mental disagreement in his head and this makes his long black strands of hair in front of his face move fluidly.

His body rises towards you and he reaches towards your helmet to take it off. Once it's off you both examine each other's expressions. Eyes darting from inch to inch. The one word to explain Qimir’s gaze is satisfaction. The reaction you're giving him is the exact one he wants.

Qimir’s hand reaches towards your chin to hold it in place, as he presses a soft but long kiss onto your lips. You waste no time in reciprocating it from all the lost time you two have had. Your lips haven’t meshed with his in a long time, but you kiss like you had done so yesterday. Finally, you both are in sync. In a way, this is how you two fight.

Smacks from each other's lips fill the air and you start to taste the sweet taste you missed from his lips. You hum against him as you savor it. Just as you start to let yourself melt away under him, he removes himself from your lips. Your neck extends wanting more, but he lowers himself back in between your legs. With his tender hands, he tugs onto your waistband lowering it down. The ship's cold air reaches its way to your slowly exposed skin and sends shivers down your spine. Before you know it, you’re fully exposed to him and you feel like it's the first time all over again.

His mouth hangs open in desire. With the hand he has just used to heal you, he lightly touches your pussy, feeling the slickness of want. “Just credits? Nothing else?”

“Shut up.” You retort.

Qimir uses his pointer finger and his middle to gently message the sides of your cunt. With a fast warmth, he presses his flat tongue on your entrance and licks upwards towards your clit. You sigh loud inside the small cockpit and you finally let your moans escape your lips. While he kisses and sucks on your pussy.

The vibrations of his voice below you sends waves of pleasure through you. The main crash landing onto your clit. Your gloved hand reaches towards his hair and he groans against you the more you pull.

You missed this. You close your eyes shut to savor this moment. To keep it lasting. You start to focus on not finishing. You need to make this last as long as you can. Although you start to ride his face, moving your hips back and forth. This comes to you as a natural instinct, like you rehearsed it.

Then, you released the tight bite you had on your lip and spoke with heavy breaths “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

His lips unlatch from your cunt, and with a wet mouth he answers in a condescending tone “Stop whining about it.”

Shortly after he latches back onto you, wanting to savor and taste more of you.

Your stomach grows tight and as well as your gloves from your constant clutches on the armrest and Qimir’s locks. Your chestpiece rises and falls from your pants, and you’re getting close. Qimir no doubt senses this. He practically can sense anything with his force. So he repeatedly hums a low “Mhm” against you, sending you over the edge.

You unravel against him and your whole body gets tense. Your eyes then shut so tight your ears hum from the force from your eyes. Qimir’s mouth never leaves you and continues to run his tongue over you. Though the more you come down the more gentler he does so. He knows you. He especially knows your body, and he knows you like him to leave lingering kisses around you once you finish.

You can hear the sound of his soft kisses against your core and thighs, feeling the comfort beneath his actions. Finally you open your eyes to be met with the roof of the cockpit, until Qimir comes into view begging for another kiss. Which you gladly give him.

Both of you and Qimir’s lips move in sync and you taste yourself on him.

Once you stop kissing, you look into his eyes and assess the situation. The reason you both were brought together was to find a bounty, Qimir had different motives, you two went separate ways, found each other during combat, he saves you from Kai to only kill him in the process, losing the bounty as well as his wanted pupil, then you are injured, make your way back to the ship, to finally being eaten out by a man you have history with.

It’s complicated to say the least.

The jump out of hyperspace pulls you back into reality. To which he gently puts your pants back to where they were.

Qimir doesn’t rise from the ground. He stays crouching below you, with doe-like eyes looking back at you.

“You forgive me?” His voice is soft and sincere. No hint of teasing behind it. He’s serious about it. Considering he took months worth of pay that you would have received away from you.

Your hand reaches the side of his face, and you lean forward. With a healed leg and euphoric come down, you answer with a kiss.

[januaryembrs]

LET IT ONCE BE ME | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [7]

Description: The THREE times she waits + the ONE time she doesn't have to.

length: 17.9k

trigger warnings: criminal minds gore + violence. jealousy. talks of sex and male and female anatomy. they get horny for one another basically. talks of Maeve + day of the dead. yearning idk? mention of one twin absorbing the other one in the womb (sorry if this is taken the wrong way but I conferred with my friend who did this when she was a foetus and she said it's not offensive and is okay to talk about so?)

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‘Let it once be me, who do I have to speak to 

About if they can redo the prophecy?’

The one where they pretend to be married

“I will not be exploited in my own home,” Bugsy chided, the faint smell of burning toast filling the small kitchenette. The butter knife sat ready in her hand, salted spread dripping down the handle where she’d been busy making breakfast before she had been called. 

He blinked back at her, unamused. 

“No. You cannot just scream at me whenever you want something from me. This relationship is toxic,” She huffed, turning back to butter her toast with the thick goodness. Sometimes she loathed living with three boys who had her wrapped around their fingers. 

The second piece of bread popped out of the toaster, which she quickly grabbed and began spreading, her fingers gripping onto the crusts gently as she did so. The squealing started again just as she readied herself to take the first bite, and she whirled around to see the two orange eyes that stared at her from on top of the counter. 

“Sergio, stop. You’ll get Niko all wound up-” She hadn’t even finished her sentence when Spencer shuffled into the kitchen, his hair mussed from sleep, his long plaid pyjama bottoms skirting high up his ankles where he’d impossibly hit another growth spurt and forgot to find better fitting clothes. Niko darted in between his legs, rushing to jump up on the breakfast bar, where Sergio was already interrogating Bugsy for more treats, a low yowl leaving his throat at the thought of being left out of feeding. “You boys are driving me crazy, no more biscuits for today-”

The yowl grew in decibels, a second one symphonying it, and she rolled her eyes, ignoring the whiney babies, turning to hand Spencer his piece of toast, crust already cut off and split into halves the way he liked it. 

“I warned you not to treat them when I’m not here, they’ve become spoiled brats,” She huffed, though she felt her entire body warm up when she looked at his doe eyes, still half idled with sleep as he watched her swan around his kitchen, their kitchen technically since she had all but moved in to his little apartment meant for two housemates. 

But they weren’t just house mates. They weren’t even dating. But she knew he wanted to. Because he loved her. 

“How could you expect me to say no, they’re so compelling,” He said, his voice gravelly where he’d lightly snored, as much as he always denied he did, fussing Niko behind the ear with long, gentle fingers. He took the plate out of her hand, his eyes swirling with a moved expression when he saw she’d cut his crusts off, his gaze snapping back up to where she’d sweeped her hair out her face, a large shirt and a pair of his clean boxers adorning her figure, “Thankyou,”

He hadn’t said the three magic words since, neither of them had. But they felt it. The weird static that had been thick in the air between them before was crackling along their skin with every glance, like they were both thinking the same thing.

I love you, and you love me.

He smiled at her warmly, the urge to grab her by her face and kiss her skin all over almost overwhelming him, because he counted himself lucky every single day. She loved him. She loved him. She loved him. He heard it in every heart beat, like a mantra that his chest clung to since the words had spilled from her soft lips. She was waiting for him, for his head to settle with the idea that Maeve was gone, and he could let her go and not feel terrible about it; waiting for him to make the first move. 

“Coffee?” He asked, watching her eyes soften as they trailed over his face, and he worried he looked a little worse for wear since he’d rolled out of bed and headed towards the source of the girl he loved arguing with someone in the kitchen even though that someone had turned out to be the greedy bastard they loved dearly.

He knew he was the luckiest guy in the world to have her waiting on him, and he never let himself forget it. 

“Yes, please,” She said, and he brushed past her, close enough for it to be on purpose when their arms touched, his hands busying themselves in between the plate and munching on the first bite of breakfast, because he didn’t know what he might do if they spent one more second looking at one another like that. 

She watched him move towards the kettle she’d sent him for Christmas when she was in London. After using one for two weeks she’d seen the light and realised he would love the nifty little invention. Her arm burned where he’d touched as if he’d taken a flame to her skin, her chest boiling up with every single thing she could think to tell him, like how good his hair looked when he didn’t do much with it, or how hot his voice sounded like that, or that she really really did love him the way she’d never even thought possible outside her silly romance novels, that she’d never believed Pip when he’d told Estella; “You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read,” and yet when she thought of it now, watching Spencer busy himself shovelling sugar into two mugs, it made entire perfect sense. 

She couldn’t remember who she was before she knew him, and she didn’t ever want to know. 

She opened her mouth to say something, perhaps to say those three little words again, or just to tell him he smelled good even when he hadn’t put any deodorant or aftershave on, but her phone’s ringtone cut her off. 

Already knowing it was going to be Penelope with a new case, she flicked the call on to speaker phone, “What you got for me, baby girl?” She said, trying to make her voice as deep as it would go, and she heard Spencer snickering where he was stirring hot water into the instant coffee.

“Was that supposed to be Morgan?” Pen’s voice replied, a small chuckle of her own evident even through the digital tone.

“I thought that was pretty good,” Bugsy replied, stuffing the last of the toasted bread into her mouth.

“I thought he was right in the room with us for a moment there,” Spencer chimed in, humouring her, as he also took an enormous bite from his breakfast, knowing they were more than likely about to be called in and their game of house, one where they flustered every time they spoke, was going to be over, “I was like, woah, Morgan, when did you get here-”

“Alright, my little rascals. We have a case, Hotch wants everyone in,” Penelope said, no doubt already paging through JJ, “No more coffee for either of you, you’re both being weird enough as it is,” 

“Definitely not,” Spencer said, sliding the mug of milky, sweet caffeine over to Bugsy who smiled at him wickedly.

“Wheels up in twenty, Garcia,” The woman added in the same voice as before, Spencer laughing with a shake of his head and moving to stand behind her, his chest pressed against her back, his arm winding around her waist to give her a small, affectionate squeeze on the hip. 

Penelope sighed, already accepting that their mercurial attitudes weren’t going away any time soon, the sudden mood change entirely odd to the rest of the team who had no idea that they had almost kissed just one week ago. To everyone else, they just seemed to have bounced back to normal, reverted back to Bugsy and Spencer; attached at the hip, only the eye contact and secretive smiles had been dialled to a hundred. The line went dead, and her head shot to look at him, where his hand had yet to move, and it was scoldingly hot against the soft fat that gathered at her hips.

“I’ll get your good shirt, I put it out to dry yesterday,” She said, her voice suddenly much less brave than it had been when she saw his eyes crinkling with a small smile. 

He nodded, and she caught his gaze trailing down her nose, darting over her lips for a second in a way that made her chest rev like a Ferrarri out of gear. She felt her breath catch in her throat when he looked back up to her eyes, his forest hues entrancing like he was playing some silent flute song and she was a snake dancing under his orders. 

He took a second to realise they were standing in his kitchen, his body pressed against hers like he hadn’t even realised they were so close, like he’d just gravitated to her that way, like he couldn’t stop it even if he’d tried to. He’d had a taste of nectar, and he was a drunk man ever since. 

Spencer wrangled a hold of himself, allowing himself to stroke the back of her head lovingly, and pressing a kiss to her crown, before he stepped away from her, and the siren song dropped, the two of them dispersing to get ready for the case. 

Bugsy swore she could hear her heart pounding the entire drive to headquarters.

–

“I think the real question is why married couples?” Hotch mused, a steaming cup of black coffee sitting in front of him on the jet, his nose in the file on his lap. 

Bugsy scanned over the manilla folder in her hands, her legs swinging rhythmically beneath the table she sat on, Rossi to her left, her own second cup of coffee squeezed between her thighs. It was a heavy case for a weekend morning, three married couples found slashed and dumped together, the UnSub showing no signs of slowing or stopping.

“If he’s a sadist, having a witness to his torture heightens his pleasure,” Alex added, her lips pursed in contemplation, her hair primped surprisingly neat considering they’d been called in with little to no notice on a Sunday. 

“Israel Keyes kidnapped a husband and wife at gunpoint, got them in a car, took them to a remote location, and then killed the husband in front of the wife,” Spencer said, trying not to look straight at Bugsy when he felt her eyes on him.

He’d never been one to keep a good poker face, never been good at hiding how he felt especially when he was happy. And she made him happier than he deserved to be. He knew their little arrangement would become glaringly obvious to the rest of the team if he let himself look at her. he had no control of his face when it came to her, how he felt his eyes soften, his lips turn up into a dopey smile, his hands itching to touch her just to confirm she was real.

He saw her head tilt down, into her lap as she tried desperately to focus on the words on the page, but he caught the small smile that she kept for herself, and he had a feeling she was struggling just as much as he was. 

“Keyes was a sexual sadist, though,” Rossi interjected, his hands wrapped around a scolding cup of the green tea Penelope had bought them because she’d read of the stress relief benefits. They’d taken it, but David and Bugsy were the only ones who had tried it, “This guy, I don’t know,” 

“Cutting a husband and wife to death, it’s more like he’s mocking their marriage bond,” JJ said, her bluebell hues dancing to Bugsy when the girl chimed in.

“Mutilating both of them, killing them together, it’s like the idea of couples and happy marriage is a trigger for him; it’s personal. He wants to make them pay for their happiness, likely because something’s stopping him from having it too,” She said, taking a long sip of her coffee, Rossi nodding along with her. 

“That’s where my head’s at. ‘You took each other for better or worse, now I’m going to show you worse’,” He said, leaning back against the table, his shoulder nudging the younger girl. 

Derek stroked a hand over his stubbled beard, “His home life’s probably a wreck, at least one ex-wife, not to mention mom and dad,”  

“Alright we need to hit the ground,” Hotch said, flicking a glance at the youngest agent where she was all but inhaling her sweet beverage, “Prentiss and Reid, I want you mapping out a geographical profile,”

She nodded, her eyes slowly trailing to Spencer’s as Hotch distributed jobs around the team, but her head subconsciously tuned his stern voice out into static. Because when she looked up at his face, he was already staring at her, and the sound of her heartbeat racing crawled its way back into her ear, the thrumming so loud she was sure David could hear it too, she might as well have held a megaphone to her mouth and announced “Spencer Reid, you make me so nervous in the good kind of way,”

His hazel eyes trailed over her face, her expression unreadable as she scrambled to keep a lid on her feelings, and she wondered if this was where the phrase ‘Don’t shit where you eat,’ came from, because him so much as looking at her wiped her mind completely, which was not ideal for an agent working on a case. But she couldn’t help it, he was enchanting, and she guessed he was having just as much of an inner quarrel as he looked away from her, the apples of his cheeks and tips of his earlobes turning a strawberry ice cream pink. 

She had no idea how she was going to make it through the rest of the day so close to him. 

–

“First couple were last seen on the corner of Hill Avenue, Bella Mia Italian restaurant,” Bugsy read from her scrawled notes, as Spencer took a purple white board pen to the map of Detroit. Drawing a circle of a 5 centimetre radius around the little dot, he kept his eyes ahead of him. Hearing her pace behind him, he didn’t need to look up to know she was chewing her cuticles again. 

“Stop biting,” He chided lightly, hearing a guilty silence where he knew she’d caught herself with embarrassment. He tried not to show his amusement, knowing it would only make her feel worse, he bit down a smirk and raised his pen back to the map, “Next one?” 

She’d been on edge all day. He would have probably brushed it off as caffeine jitters seeing as she was on her fourth cup already, but Spencer knew her too well to know her tolerance was so high she had about two more mugs in her before she’d start to crash. 

He knew what it was, the memory of her skin beneath his lips burning his cheeks all over again, the look in her eyes when he’d been close enough they were sharing breath. He knew what it was because he felt it too. It was like their confession had set off a ticking time bomb, one that neither of them had the countdown to, and the clicking of every passing second sounded oddly like a pulse in their throats. To put it short, just the sound of her footsteps was making his skin pimpled with gooseflesh. 

“Uh, next one is Bowlarama, about ten stores down from there, Couple number two were seen getting milkshakes and heading towards the parking lot before they went missing,” She recited, her fingers firmly clutching the paper in her hand to resist the urge of gnawing at her nails again. Why was she so nervous? She lived with Spencer, ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with Spencer, spent almost all her evenings either playing chess or watching movies with Spencer, or on the odd occasion he found a book in reach he hadn’t read yet, he’d read out parts to her he found particularly engaging to those million, trillion, billion neurological pathways of his. 

The squealing of the pen against the board was the only thing keeping her head in the case, Spencer’s messy handwriting dotting around the map with points of interest, and she begged her brain to kick into gear the way it normally did, tried everything to yank herself out of the head fog she’d found herself lost in where thoughts of him emerged through like Mr Darcy strolling through those clouded moors, like how his voice sounded when he smiled, how his hand looked gripping that pen, how his body was lithe and handsome even from the back. 

She shook her head, jamming her face back into her files, to the gory images of couple number three, mutilated and bloody, and reminded herself she had a job to do. 

Get it together, Prentiss.

“Couple number three’s last known location was on the corner of Whittier Avenue, outside a wine bar named Blue Mates,” Bugsy read out, hoping her hot cheeks would dissipate before he noticed, “It seems couples out on date night really agitate this guy,” 

Spencer hummed, focused on his third circle, the three of them overlapping with almost precise measurements. It was hard not to notice the pattern to them. He heard her draw nearer with his profile complete, and they stood beside one another, so close they knocked hands when they leaned in to take a closer look at the rings.

“He hits the same street of stores every time, one after another,” Spencer said, his long forefinger trailing down the strip of shops and bars the UnSub seemed to have a taste for, “I mean, excluding retail and supermarkets, since they’re unlikely spots for a husband and wife to go out on a date, the pattern is really quite linear where he hits next,” 

Gently taking the pen out of his hands, Bugsy leaned up to colour in every single store that would be considered retail, crossing out a pet shop or two, leaving only the cafes, bars, restaurants, even a cinema. And sure enough, the three spots the victims had been last seen lined up perfectly as the first three ‘date night’ locations on the strip, the next being a steak restaurant named The Greasy Grill. 

“How much do you want to bet our UnSub is getting a craving for Sirloin right about now?” Bugsy said, putting the pen down onto the table and they exchanged a look of accomplishment, just as Hotch walked in with the Chief of Detroit police. 

“What did you find?” Hotch asked, his eyes falling to the asterisks drawn on the whiteboard, the rest of the known locations Penelope had sent dotted around the map. 

“Date night is very important to this UnSub,” Spencer said, the two of them turning to their boss, his shoulder bumping hers, and it was only then she’d realised she was all but pressing up into his side. 

“He goes on dates?” The chief of police asked, his brows furrowed. Taking a step away, her eyes darting to the map as a means of distracting herself, she pointed to the ink marks they’d squiggled on the paper.

“No, but the victims do and he knows that,” She explained, tracing a chewed fingertip down the street, “The UnSub hit here first, where our first couple went out for pizza. He then moved down here where the second victims had their date night in a bowling alley, and onto our newest victims, they were last seen having wine here, each kidnapping site along the same strip with the next possible location being right here,” She said, her finger slapping against the Greasy Grill, Hotch nodding in thought as the Chief got on the phone with his own team. 

“Good work, you two,” Hotch hummed, and he opened his mouth to speak again when Bugsy’s phone began to ring.

Snatching it out of her pocket, she caught sight of Alex’s name before swiping to answer, pressing it to her ear, “Hello?” 

“Fourth victim has just been found dumped in a car.” The woman said immediately, and Bugsy switched her mobile to speaker so the other two could hear her. Turning on her heels to face the white board, she grabbed the pen resting on the table beside her, yanking the lid off with her teeth.

“Where?” She asked, Spencer picking the plastic from between her lips to help her communicate, her eyes focused on the road names as she waited for Alex’s response. 

“Back alley between Warren and Forest Avenue, one woman found alone in a white Buick,” Alex said, and all three of their faces scrunched in confusion as she said it. 

“He’s changed his victimology,” Spencer murmured and Bugsy nodded, her lips pressed in a flat line, “Alex, is the woman married at least, or has the UnSub completely altered his preference?”

“We have her husband here right now,” Alex confirmed, and Hotch stepped over to where the two geniuses inspected the map, “He said he missed a dinner reservation they had two nights ago at a restaurant called-”

“The Greasy Grill?” Spencer and Bugsy spoke synchronously, and Alex paused audibly. 

“I take it you two have figured out his pattern already?” She asked, though she didn’t sound all too surprised. 

“See if the husband knows anything else, Blake. We’re going to figure out the next location that fits the pattern,” Hotch ordered, and they bid each other goodbye, as Bugsy and Spencer were already coordinating which plots of land were retail stores. 

By the time the line went dead, there was a big red mark circling a mini golf course slash cocktail bar, and the duo looked at him expectantly. 

“If the UnSub keeps his victims for around three days at a time, and the woman was found this morning, my guess is he’s going to head there tonight,” Bugsy said, capping the pen and dropping it back onto the desk, feeling Spencer nodding behind her, “And if the victim was supposed to be at the restaurant with her husband, it means he’s still looking for couples, he just happened to get unlucky. He’s going to want another happy-go-lucky husband and wife pairing,” 

Hotch’s face became unreadable for a moment, his gaze switching between the two of them, like he was assessing the risk factor of sending his two youngest agents undercover for the second time. But they seemed to have worked together seamlessly the first time, in that casino, so he didn’t see the qualms about asking them to work the same act this time.

“What?” Bugsy asked, the look in his eye unnerving her, and she flicked a glance behind her at Spencer’s equally lost expression, turning back to see Hotch dialling Dave’s number to update him on their plan, “Hotch, what is it?”

“He wants a happy couple,” Hotch said, his phone already up to his ear as he eyed the little to zero space between the two agents who swore blind they were just friends, “We’re going to give him one,” 

–

She had to admit, this was a little nicer than the red dress she’d been stuffed into last time. The sundress was flowy enough she could hide her gun strapped to her hip, and still compliment her figure nicely enough that she couldn’t complain. And best of all, it meant she could wear her ballet pumps instead of those god awful stilettos she’d pulled out last time they were undercover. 

She still remembered that evening in the casino, watching Spencer’s big brain tick faster than she’d thought possible even for him. The briefing of this even seemed much more relaxed, seeing as their aim was to look like the happiest couple alive. ‘You worry about playing your parts, we’ll worry about playing ours,’; was what Alex had said when she’d brought in a dress about Bugsy’s size, the woman already styling her hair to look like she was really going on a date. 

Because she was, sort of, not really, going on a date with Spencer. Except none of it was real, like someone up there had to have one final laugh at her luck, like that carrot on a string she’d been waiting patiently for the past week was looking a lot more delicious by the second as it dangled in front of her.  

There was a knock on the small hotel room Hotch had booked them in for the evening, seeing as they were going to be scoping out the area until late, and Bugsy headed for the door without pause, thinking it was JJ returning with the fake wedding rings they’d gotten from a cheap jewellers down the street. 

She swung the door open, only to be greeted by two dark eyes looking at her done up face, her primped hair, her floral dress. 

“Spence,” She said, picking over every inch of him, breathless already, because she always thought he looked hot in a button down shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, “You look-”

“You look beautiful,” He rushed, like he might just burst if he held it in any longer, and she smiled sheepishly, her face flooding with heat all over again. Damn you, Reid, with your stupid charm and ridiculously good looking lips.

“You look beautiful too,” She complimented, noticing a gold band on his finger then and she realised he had something in his palm, “You run into JJ already?” 

He nodded, smiling with a stammered breath, “Yeah, I said I’d come check if you were ready. Hotch and Dave are already there scoping out the bar,” 

She simpered under the weight of his nervousness, “Well, I’m ready,” Holding out her left hand, she raised her ring finger, “Marry me, pretty boy,” 

He snickered, shaking his head at her clear diversion from the stifling tension in the air, and held her hand in his delicately, his skin warm as it encompassed hers entirely, and he was careful to slip the false engagement ring over her digits, following it with a gold band of her own. 

“You ready to get your ass kicked at miniature golf whilst our friends catch a criminal, Mr Reid?” She asked, and he had yet to let go of her hand as she shut the door behind her, slipping her hotel room key into her purse. 

“That’s a bold statement from such a sore loser, Mrs Reid,” He said back, a smile so wide he thought he might burst a vessel as she laughed, and tightened her fingers around his, interlacing them just like she had done a handful of times before, and his chest crackled with white hot excitement when she knocked her shoulder into his side in affection. 

His lips scorched with the words Mrs Reid the entire drive to the bar. 

–

“Any eyes on him, yet?” Bugsy whispered to the women in the stalls, touching up her lipstick as JJ and Alex hid in the women’s bathroom for the signal. 

“Not yet,” Blake said, sitting on the closed toilet seat in her kevlar and jacket, all but twiddling her thumbs and wishing she’d brought a sudoku, “Are you guys having fun at least?”

“Pretending to be married to my best friend while a serial killer eyes up my guts for the taking; yeah I’m peachy,” Bugsy replied, rubbing her lips together and making sure her gun was still strapped tight to her hip, “Besides, he really is kicking my ass at golf,”

“He’s going to let you win anyway, you know that right?” JJ said, tucking her feet up onto the seat in her own stall in case anyone who wasn’t on their team came in to the bathroom, “He always lets you win because he knows it makes you happy,”

Bugsy paused, the tissue that was collecting rogue lipstick smudges from her face almost falling in the sink, and she was quick to gather her voice with a clear of her throat.

“Maybe I just win because I’m good, Jennifer,” She said, a lilt of teasing in her tone, binning the scrap tissue paper and heading for the door, “Keep an eye out, kiddos. I’m going back in,”

They chirped a goodbye, the two of them sighing as they waited for Hotch’s message, and Bugsy walked back out to where Spencer was waiting by Hole Seven. It was a classic windmill on top of a hill, a small tunnel where the door was supposed to be leading to a lower level behind the plastic decor, where the hole lay waiting for them. 

“You ready, honey?” He said, holding out a purple putter they’d chosen at the start of the course, and she smiled genuinely at him. She had been telling somewhat of a lie when she’d been so unenthusiastic in the bathroom, though she thought telling the women just how much fun she was having being married to Spencer might just rub salt in the wound considering they were bored stiff sat in the bathroom.

That and she wanted to keep whatever it was they were feeling theirs and only theirs for just a little bit longer. 

“Ready, my love,” She sang in response and let him go first. He had to lean over a fair bit seeing as he was so tall he made everything on the course look particularly miniature, including the putter that seemed dwarfed by his height. Taking a quick look at the hill, no doubt calculating the angle and force he would need to hit it with, he gave the little, pink golf ball a generous tap and it raced up the slope, straight into the tunnel. They heard it knocking around a little in the chamber, before it came careering out the other end and rolled no closer than a yard away from the hole. 

Bugsy looked at him with wide eyes, to which he pretended not to look almost arrogant with how easy he’d made it seem, only when he looked back at her with a shit eating grin, she knew exactly how pleased with himself he was. 

“I bet it’s not that difficult, it’s all just a matter of force and drag and whatnot, right?” She said, strolling up to place her lilac ball on the inky dot marking the start. 

“Totally, although this is where, I don’t know, say a degree in Engineering would come in useful, I bet,” Spencer chimed in, and she didn’t need to look at him to know he had that smirk on his face. 

“Mr Reid, get ready to eat your words,” She replied over her shoulder, smacking the ball hard enough it flew up the slope, bouncing off the wall of the windmill and racing all the way back down the hill, rolling right back to where they stood, Spencer hiding a laugh behind his hand. She gaped, her face hot with annoyance, “Wait, wait! That was a practice run, I get another go,”

“Practice run, I see,” Spencer said with a chuckle, shoving his hands in his pockets, and watching her scramble to set the ball back on the marker, “So out of interest, how many of these practice runs are you getting,”

“Just the one,” She said, hitting the plastic globe again, though this time it barely made it half way up the incline before it rolled right back down again, “Two, I get two. This one’s the real one, starting now,” 

“The real one? So this one’s really the one that counts, right?” He teased, and she glared at him over her shoulder. He stepped closer to her, a look of the cat that got the cream smeared all across his face as he took a stance behind her, wrapping his arms around hers with the oldest trick in the book, “Why don’t you let your dearest husband help you out, huh?” 

“I have a masters and half a degree in medicine, I think I know what I’m doing,” She hummed, though the feeling of his hands resting over hers soone quietened down whatever fire was stoked in her belly from losing their game. Spencer was so close she could feel him breathing down her neck, feel his chest on her shoulder blades, and worst and most heinous of all, feel his crotch pressing against her tailbone. 

“Alright, alright. Just humour me,” He murmured, a new found confidence in him that he only seemed to get whenever they were playing the part of being other people. He gave her a salacious lick of his lips, smiling at her with a pink parted mouth, his eyes dark in this light like he knew what she was thinking as well, and he couldn’t help but think she looked so pretty when he flirted with her a little. He’d always thought that when she was stunned into that quiet tone, the mousy look she got on her face was rather cute. 

His hands engulfed hers with a mesh of pornographic veins and sadistically handsome knuckles, his mouth at her ear as they lined up the shot together. 

It was as if a murmuration of birds had flocked together in her chest, dipping and diving and creating all manner of shapes in her stomach as she felt it flip three or four times, his body so entirely pressed against hers she never wanted to move a muscle. She’d had the odd thought pop into her head about what sex with Spencer Reid might feel like, and yet all she could think about in the haze of the putter and fake grass beneath their feet was how delicious he felt pressing into her like that. 

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as she looked forward again, and she could have sworn she held back a moan when he breathed out down her spine. 

“Hotch has eyes on a guy at the bar watching us,” He whispered, her back straightening as she was reminded with a slap to the face they were still working the case. That as much fun as they were having, as happy as they were supposed to seem, they still had a very real job to do, and she felt stupid for thinking the flirty glances and erotic embrace was for anything more than to sell the married couple act. 

But Bugsy was nothing if not committed to her job. So instead of worrying if Spencer had felt anything real in the last hour or so, she decided to double down and give their UnSub a real show. 

Sticking her ass out so she brushed against Spencer’s crotch more, she intertwined her fingers with his, and hit the dimpled sphere the direction he guided her; and sure enough it rolled straight into the tunnel with little qualms.

Spinning in his arms, the smile was nearly wiped off her face when she saw Spencer’s eyes had darkened to a rich espresso hue as he looked at her. But she hid it well, despite the fact she caught the way his pupils were blown wide, and simply leaned to kiss him smack dab on his cheek, a smirk on her face when she pulled away.

“I guess I just needed the correct motivation,” She said with a flirty undertone, and she revelled in the way his lips parted enough she saw the whites of his absurdly pretty teeth. 

“Remind me to not take you out to mini golf for our first date,” Spencer huffed, his ears red as a mushroom top as they both stepped over to where the hole was and she snickered, trying her best to ignore the wings hammering away at her ribcage when he said that. 

“Duly noted, Mr Reid,” She said, watching him lineup his next shot with a smirk, and she wondered just where exactly they would go on their first date. Her smile only got wider, a girlish glee to her eyes. “So, theoretically, where were you thinking of taking me?” 

“Theoretically,” He said, lining up his shot, the ball only a small tap away from the hole, his feet spreading a little wider so he could lean down to putt the pink sphere, “I was thinking of going to that book cafe out in Delaware, the one where they have a bunch of drinks inspired by different authors. We could play a game I used to with my mom, where we choose a book for each other we think the other would like,” He took the shot, his ball rolling into the cavity without much effort as she watched him meticulously, her entire body softening with his sentiment right down to her marrow, “And then I was going to say we build a sofa fort in the living room and watch whatever movie you like, maybe get some popcorn on the way home,” 

He looked up at her, and almost reeled back in surprise to see her looking at him with something so vastly emotional in her eyes, like he’d offered her a winning lottery ticket or a chance to go back in time in a flying police box, her expression a complete window into her soul because she’d never been too good at hiding how she felt when she was around him. 

Spencer opened his mouth to speak again, only for their earpieces to jump to life, Hotch’s voice out of breath as he reported down their ear. 

“We have the UnSub, we caught him trying to sneak into your car like we profiled.” He said, and she knew his brow was creased without even having to see his face, “We’re taking him in for questioning now, you kids wrap up and head to the station,”

Bugsy hummed in confirmation, fighting the disappointment that their show was over, and they’d have to go back to their usual act of pretending there wasn’t three little words hanging over both their heads, gnawing at the back of their brains. 

Clearing her throat, she set up her shot ready to finish their game, “Well, theoretically speaking, when you’re ready to ask me on that date, I’m there,”

He smiled to himself, perhaps ready to flirt with her just a little more before they went back to being Bugsy and Spence, not Mr and Mrs Reid, when she hit the golf ball just the tiniest bit too vigorously. It rolled straight past the hole, bouncing off the wall and heading further away from the end than when she’d started, and she groaned in frustration. 

“How are you so terrible at this-” Spencer burst out laughing as she stomped over to the lilac ball, lining up another shot with a grumpy expression. 

“Not another word, Lover boy,” 

2. The one with an old flame.

“I wonder what Hotch wants,” She mused, her head resting on the arm of the seat, her eyes shut for the duration of the flight. Rossi had called them into the office startlingly early for a Friday, the entire team sleepy eyed and annoyed as they’d strolled onto the sixth floor. 

Yet the minute that they’d heard Hotch needed them, they’d soon perked up in interest, seeing as it was Aaron’s only appointed week off to see Beth in New York, and they had quickly jumped in to help with whatever it was he needed. 

“Penelope’s still waiting for NYPD to send her the autopsy reports for the previous victims,” Rossi said, him, Strauss, JJ and Alex playing a few rounds of Shithead with a peeling deck of cards because for once they had no paperwork to be looking over while they travelled. Bugsy had laid on the couch, the one Spencer usually commandeered, except this time he let her take the comfy seat, instead letting her legs drape over his lap as he read from his book, another two sat next to him for when he finished that one. 

“He sounded panicked. DEA thinks we might have a bad batch of something making its way through the club scene causing the deaths,” Strauss added, putting down two sets of three on top of JJ’s ace, “Aaron’s brother just happened to have been caught in the crossfire,”

“Men are almost twice as likely to die from drug overdoses than women, just last year there were forty-one thousand, five hundred and two cases.” Spencer said without lifting his head from his pages, his thumb caressing over Bugsy’s ankle bone, “The fact that the majority of the victims are women suggests it’s more than likely is a date rape drug that has been laced since they tend to be targeted towards female victims more often than males.” 

“Ecstasy can be made in pill, powder or liquid form so it really wouldn’t be too difficult to slip it into someone’s drink,” The girl mused, her eyes squeezed shut tightly as she attempted to catch up on another half hour of sleep, “Or to convince people the drug they’re taking willingly is safe,”

“Even regular users might not know they're being dosed until it's too late,” JJ agreed, setting down a seven on top of Rossi’s two fives. 

“What about the two victims who were clean, Linda Heying and Eric Sullivan’s family claimed they never touched the stuff,” Alex questioned, as Morgan looked over the list of victims that they had been able to track down, despite the majority of the information waiting for them at New York. 

“Either the victims are good at hiding the truth or the UnSub is killing for another reason,” David said with a sigh, as Strauss set down the six of clubs, “We should take a closer look, see how they’re connected,”

“Well for now, let the princess get her beauty sleep,” Bugsy said, snuggling into the throw pillow Spencer had passed her as they’d sat down, “I’m feeling weird today,”

His head ripped from his book at that, the rest of the team going back to playing their cards, his hand skirting up to her calf to stroke her leg gently, “You okay?” 

She huffed, “Yeah, Penelope said it's because my Mercury is in Retrograde or something, I don’t know. I just feel strange,” She grumbled, resting a hand over her stomach, “Probably just coming on my period early,”

He frowned, moving her legs off his lap and standing up. Before she could ask where he was going, he stepped to the opposite end of the couch, picking her head up gently by the crook of her neck and sitting back down, resting her back onto his lap. 

His fingers were in her hair before she could say anything, scratching gently at her scalp the way he knew she turned to putty for, and she smiled, swearing blind she’d be purring if she could. 

“We’ll get you some breakfast when we land,” He murmured, and she snuggled her cheek into his thigh, his slender fingers massaging her skin kindly. 

“Thankyou, Spence,” She whispered back, all but slurring her words as sleep caught right back up to her, and before long she was drooling on his black trousers, the sight of it making him smile sweetly to himself. 

And it was for a moment like that he wondered what exact feeling he was waiting for in the first place. 

–

“Any updates?” Bugsy asked, as they entered the New York Police Department and saw Hotch waiting for them, his arms crossed in a casual shirt and jeans, clearly having had no intention of working this week, “How’s your brother?”

“A little shaken but then he never exactly made the best choices in life,” Hotch huffed, putting a hand on her back as she leaned in to give him a small hug because he seemed particularly stressed, “Emily always said you were bad, I’d take you over him any day,”

“Thanks,” She murmured into his shoulder, with a frown, “I think?”

He smiled, amused the way she had a knack for, though the worry in his mahogany eyes didn’t budge, and Spencer was all but a step behind her as the team filed into the building. 

“You guys have coffee?” Spencer asked, his eyes subconsciously trailing after Bugsy as she moved to talk to one of the detectives, and Hotch nodded, pointing him over to the small kitchenette at the back of the precinct. 

“Over there, I’ll get you guys set up with the lab reports now that you’re here. Autopsies came back for Linda and Eric,” Hotch said, and Spencer murmured in agreement, heading straight for the instant coffee and creamer, worrying about the girl who was already nose deep in a file by the time the machine had poured the first cup. 

He wondered whether there were any pharmacies nearby for anti-sickness tablets, or if she needed a heavy dose of water and sleep instead of the caffeine goodness he was whipping up for her, but then he knew she’d rather shrivell into a ball in the precinct bathroom than ask for a day off, would rather suffer in proud silence than make herself look weak. 

Bugsy remembered it happening in choppy intervals. One minute she was heading up the steps towards where Spencer stood patiently by the coffee machine, something already popping up as a point of interest in her overworked brain. Her head was down, muttering to herself the points of the victimology that conflicted with one another, when she felt herself slam right into a solid body, and she jumped back, steadying herself with an embarrassed expression. 

“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was-” Her eyes snapped up to see a messy blonde sweep of hair, wide blue eyes she’d known ten years ago and a thick beard that happened to be the only thing new about him. Her gaze locked onto him, and she felt a fury she’d not thought about in over a decade rile up inside her, “Sean?” 

“Bugsy,” He breathed, the horror sweeping over his expression, a hand shooting up to slick his hair back nervously, “What are you- how are you-” 

She shoved him back with two firm hands, tossing the file onto the table beside her, and shoving at his chest again, his own hands coming up to defend himself lightly even though his expression read nothing but guilt. 

“Woah, woah, let’s just talk about this, I was just a dumb kid-”

“You left me, Sean. You left me in a foreign country alone with no boarding pass, no cell phone,” She snarled, and the sound of her tone rising turned a few heads, Spencer all but ditching the spoon into the sink when he saw her going nose to nose with some guy who looked purely terrified, “Your dumbass friends spent all my money on hookers, I’d still be in Italy if it wasn’t for the fact you graciously decided not to steal my bank card-” 

She shoved him again in between her growls, and it wasn’t until two hands came up to stop her did she realise Derek and Spencer had all but appeared behind her, the former’s arms wrapping around her waist to draw her back. 

“Woah, woah, talk to me, pretty girl. What’s with the aggression?” Derek asked, his eyes wide with concern as he looked between the youngest agent and their suspect. It seemed her volume had reached the other side of the room where Hotch had been talking with Strauss and Alex, and Spencer could practically see the steam coming out his ears as he whipped around to their trio. 

He could already hear the lecture coming, and the thought of it made him gulp.

“This is Sean,” She spat, and Derek and Spencer’s head snapped to the blonde man who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, “You know, the asshole that ditched me on another continent and stole my money,”

“I didn’t mean to steal your money, I thought you had it in your purse, I-I didn’t think to check before we left the hotel room,” He tried to interject, though the girl's glare intensified, unaware her boss's shoes were now thundering across the steps. 

“Where you left me to miss the flight I paid for, you inconsiderate prick-”

“You told me to leave you alone! You said you were sick of us waking you up-”

“I meant playing your music too loud, dumbass-”

“Well sorry, last time I checked I’m not a mind reader, Bugsy-”

“What in God’s name is going on here?” Hotch’s voice was a crack of lightning through the precinct, and the two of them shut up immediately, like two school children caught squabbling in the halls, Sean turning to his older brother with an exasperated expression. 

“Aaron, I swear, I don’t know what she’s doing here,” Sean pleaded, and Derek, Spencer and Bugsy turned to their boss in unison with bewildered faces. Hotch looked back at them, his own anger dissolving into utter, raw confusion. 

“Do you two know each other?” Hotch, Aaron, asked the girl in the middle, the other men all but positioned as bodyguards in the midst of their little spat, and he saw her cheeks hot with anger deflating as she drew a breath to answer. 

“Unfortunately,” She spat, scrutinising the familiar tone Sean had used when he’d said Aaron’s name, “Do you two know each other?” 

“He’s my brother,” The Hotchner’s replied in unison, their tone almost identical and she felt stupid for not seeing it sooner.

Bugsy felt her face drop, her eyes scanning between them for any signs of a lie, except all she found were the tiny details of their face that seemed to half match. Like their cheekbones, and the crease between their brows, the shape of their lips. 

Her face blanked, gobsmacked silence passing between the five of them as she digested exactly what that statement ment. 

Sean, her Sean, the Sean she’d been sleeping with on and off for six months straight, who used to make her tea way too milky and without sugar the way she hated it, but would bring it to her in bed and stroke her back when they were finished, the Sean who once tried to ask her to be his girlfriend when he was stoned and she’d laughed at him and snatched the blunt away, told him to get a hold of himself because that was the exact opposite of how friends with benefits worked. 

Sean, who she had trusted to keep her safe, who’d ditched her naked in a hotel room in a foreign country and made her feel stupid for ever believing a word a man said.  

She stuttered for a response, a wide eyes mix of terror and confusion and repulsion washing over her in stages. 

“I need-” She swallowed thickly, her mouth drier than sandpaper, gently pushing Derek’s arm from around her waist, “I think I need a walk- a walk sounds good- yeah-”

Rossi paced over to the five of them, his phone clutched tightly in his hands. He almost paused at the wall of awkward tension around the group, each participant seeming stuck for the right thing to say, the entire situation so bizarre that Spencer debated faking a migraine to get him and her out of the room for some air. 

“Hotch,” Both of the men turned to look at him, and the sight of it made Bugsy shudder, feeling almost completely out of her own body at the thought of her nude body on top of Sean’s because now all she could see was Aaron in his place, “Six new bodies found in a nightclub-”

“I’ll go!” She jumped, all but bolting past the men, trying her hardest not to touch either of them because her skin crawled with a sickening uncanny valley looking between the brothers, “I’ll go inspect the crime scene,” 

And no one stopped her, because they’d seen her be all manner of strange before, but never quite like that. Aaron nodded his head to Morgan, and the man took it as a sign to follow her. He quickly obeyed, hot on the girl's heels as she kept her head down with an odd, freaked out expression on her face like she was about to throw up and scream at the same time. 

Which left Sean alone as Spencer and Aaron whirled around on him, similar looks of annoyance on their face as the younger agent looked the man head to toe. 

He was handsome, handsome in a rugged way like he was used to bar fights and late nights and drinking until three am with pretty ladies like her. He was built wide like Aaron, his shoulders broad and muscles stocky, a few tattoos dotted around his arms that only added to his rough looking appeal, and Spencer wondered if she’d always liked the bad boys, wondered if he was an outlier in her dating history. 

Except they weren’t dating, not yet at least. 

“So I take it she’s one of your agents,” Sean said, wringing his hands together in anxiety as the two taller men looked down at him, equally unimpressed.

Though, Spencer hated to admit, his was more green faced jealousy than anything else. 

“Agent Prentiss is one of the best,” Reid corrected, his tone cold and stern, and Sean visibly shrunk in on himself, looking to his big brother for help, only he found Aaron was just as annoyed, glaring down at him. 

“You have some more explaining to do, Sean,” His brother snapped, and the two men diverted him into one of the interrogation rooms, Spencer’s jaw clenched so hard he felt his temples ache, “Or next time I’m not stopping her from handing your ass to you, and believe me when I say you’ll wish you’d told me sooner,”

Sean gulped, all too aware of the way eighteen year old Bugsy had never backed down from a fight, when men twice her age shoved her in clubs or girls bitched at her for dancing too close to their boyfriends. He didn’t imagine she was any different at twenty eight, except this time she was trained and licensed to handle a gun. 

The door slammed behind them, and Aaron pushed his little brother into the seat with a firm hand, the sight of his unit chief just as protective over her as he was making Spencer bite back glee. The image of Bugsy laying into the guy was burned into his memory, eidetic or not, and it seemed to be the only thing that stopped him blowing his top as Sean opened his mouth to explain what had happened between him and the younger Prentiss woman. 

–

“What did you do, Thane?” Sean’s voice crackled over the feed, the wire on his chest brushing against his shirt as he paced in the wine cellar. Aaron, Morgan, Spencer and Bugsy sat in the van, listening to the conversation through shared headphones, Spencer and Bugsy’s heads pressed together as they followed the voices as best as they could, waiting for a confession or anything they could tie to the victims' gory deaths. 

“I spiked the wine, you idiot,” Sean’s boss, Thane, snapped, his breathing laboured and Bugsy took a shot in the dark to say he was pacing, worrying now that there was concrete evidence linking his date rape drug to the deaths of atleast nine people so far, “Oh, God. Oh, god, Jim is going to kill me.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Sean seethed, his patience wearing thin as the man all but confessed to killing his girlfriend. 

“For a laugh, I thought it was X. Girl’s love that crap,” Thane replied, his voice louder as Sean stepped closer to him, and she exchanged a look with Aaron.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t X, was it?” The younger Hotchner barked, and she quickly let go of the headphones to grab a kevlar and her gun. 

“He’s going off track, Aaron, he’d not going to keep his cool much longer,” She said, and Spencer’s eyes trailed up to her face, her brow furrowed as Aaron moved to slip his own bulletproof over his head, adjusting the straps at his side. 

“Tell SWAT to stand by, we’re going in to support, but we may need back up,” Aaron ordered, unholstering his gun and switching the trigger off safety, “You two stay here and see if Thane says any more about the wine,”

She drew her gun to her side just as he did, and Spencer made a move to stop her, even just to check where her head was at because he knew she had this tendency of throwing herself in harms way and asking questions later. He selfishly worried what that upset look in her eyes meant, like she loathed that Sean was in danger as much as she loathed him. 

But he wasn’t quite fast enough, because by the time he’d reached a hand out for hers to ask if she was feeling alright, she had slid the door to the van open, hopping out onto the tarmac as Aaron shadowed her. 

And something ugly and envious reared its head in Spencer’s gut as the doors slammed, so much so that his jaw feathered and he took a deep breath out, his lips pressing into a thin line.

The two agents moved as one, their footsteps pounding over the linoleum floor of the night club. They swept to the back of the building, where the door to the stock room was, and it became apparent almost immediately from the grunting and shuffling the other side of the door that the two men were much closer to brawling than they’d guessed. 

“FBI, drop your weapon!” Bugsy called, bracing herself as she felt Aaron’s domineering figure at her shoulder. She raised her leg to kick the door in, and it swung on its hinges, smacking into the rack of beer. They caught the two men in the middle of a fist fight, Sean with a split lip, Thane with a gash on his forehead, his head locked under the younger man’s arm with a deathly grip.

She holstered her gun, seeing that neither of them were carrying, and moved forward to break the two of them up.

“Alright, Sean- Sean, that’s enough,” She scolded, her fingers prying his muscled arm off his boss’s trachea, and Sean took a second to realise it was disappointment in her face, not the white hot anger it had been not even a few hours before, before he let the man go, some colour returning to his bluing lips.

“He killed Linda,” The blonde Hotchner said softly, and something wavered in her eyes, something close to pity, and she nodded at him while biting her cheek hard. Aaron holstered his gun, surging forward to grab Thane with rough hands as he fought against the taller man’s grip. “She was sober, she’d gotten clean and he killed her,” 

“I know,” Bugsy said lamentingly, and against her better judgement she patted his shoulder kindly, more kindly than he probably deserved, and the thought of it made Sean’s baby blue eyes turn away in sorrow. 

Before she could say anything else, Thane wretched his hand out of Hotch’s grip, grabbing for the sharp box cutter and lunging right for Bugsy where she turned away from him. 

Sean’s expression morphed into fear for a moment, grabbing for her to yank her out of reach, but it was too late. She felt the slash across the back of her arm, where her kevlar couldn’t cover up, and she yawped in pain the way a dog sounds when its tail gets crushed. Turning towards the source of the danger, Sean’s hand weaved around her waist to tug her backwards as Aaron scrambled to grab the suspect. 

Thane’s hand gripped the blade and slashed down again, across her cheek and only inches away from her eye, her hands too late to grab his wrists to stop his advances. By the time he drew back to swipe for her again Aaron had already tackled him to the ground, pinning him to the wine soaked floor and fumbling for his cuffs. 

“We have an agent injured and needing medical, repeat, medical unit required on scene,” Spencer was out of his seat before Hotch could even finish his sentence, forgoing his own vest as he darted from the van, his heart racing at the sound of the scuffle echoing through Sean’s wire, and he felt his chest seizing at just what kind of a state she’d be in when he saw her. 

She was the only other agent on the scene. That call had to be made for her, the voice in his gut told him, but the twisted part of him hoped that it was someone else, anyone else, that had gotten hurt, because he might just throw a punch of his own at Thane or Sean or maybe even both of them if she had so much as a single hair misplaced. 

Spencer had only just about reached the bar area when the four of them emerged from the stock room, Thane in cuffs, looking rattled and aggravated. Spencer let himself take a long, hard look at the man with a glare that soon made him cower away, though he found little luck elsewhere as Hotch’s hands gripped him so tight Spencer thought he might be trying to strangle him through his arms. 

But that wasn’t who he was looking for. And there, trailing behind his unit chief sheepishly, with Sean’s hand on her back as he watched her carefully, his eyes worriedly darting over her skin when he saw how fast the blood was pouring from the laceration on the apple of her cheek, was Bugsy. Her expression was shaken, no doubt from nearly having her corneas slashed open had Sean not pulled her away even a second earlier, and she seemed in some sort of a daze, until she spotted the sweater vest she’d shoved in the wash about a hundred times, and two supple hands reached for her shoulders, snapping her attention out of her head. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, all but ignoring Sean as the man went to flag down medical, his own appearance dishevelled and stunned, and it irked Spencer something childish when her head snapped to the blonde, watching him head for the paramedics. 

“I’m okay, Spence, it’s just a superficial wound,” She said as a reflex, meeting his eyes finally. But she simpered when she saw just how terrified he seemed, a warm palm raising to cup his face affectionately, “He just nicked the skin, that’s all. It’s not as bad as it looks,” 

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Her face stung like a bitch, but the feeling of her cheek dribbling with the ichor was worse than the actual pain, and made her feel queasy more than anything. 

He went to say something else, or perhaps even gently caress the clean side of her face with his own loving gesture, but he was quickly interrupted by the medical team all but grabbing Bugsy out of his grip and assessing her themselves. 

“It’s probably best if you come take a seat, Agent Prentiss,” The woman said, pointing to where Sean sat on the back of the ambulance getting his nose checked over, “We’ll be over with some stitches and glue,” 

And Spencer made a move to follow the two of them, only to be stopped by Hotch, who called his name with that direct tone he took when he was worried.

“Reid, I need you and Morgan to interview Thane about where he got the drugs he used to spike the wine,” Aaron ordered, even though he seemed to watch the girl go just as bothered as the younger agent, and Spencer seemed conflicted between rebelling against his boss’s instructions or keeping to his track record of following them to a tea. 

He paused for a second, his gaze flicking to the girl who sat with her old flame, Sean’s eyes roving over her head to toe worriedly, and he looked back to Aaron, “But-”

“Now, Reid. She’s going to be fine.” 

And Spencer was forced to listen, even if his face burned with annoyance at the sight of the man watching her so tentatively. 

–

“Would you quit fidgeting, the medic said it was a surface wound,” Bugsy snipped, feeling the ocean hues burning a hole into the side of her head. She dusted her knees off of invisible dirt, braving a look up at her ex-fling where she was met with a wall of guilt.

And it was like for a split second she remembered all the mornings she’d wake up to him twirling the tips of her hair between his fingers, or when he’d shake his head whenever he’d look over her shoulder at her lab reports she’d be writing and make a passing comment on how a hot girl like her could have brains and looks. 

Or how he could be kind to her, genuinely sweet when he wanted to be, when they toed a weird line between friends with benefits and something a little more, because at his core she knew he was a good guy, he was just incredibly dumb for an eighteen year old. 

“Listen, Bug,” Sean sighed, looking down at the ground where they were perched on the back on the ambulance, Bugsy’s face stitched up so tight she hoped it wouldn’t scar very deeply, “I really am sorry for how I treated you,” 

His voice shook with something remorseful, and she let her eyes cast over his face that had grown even more handsome in the ten years since she saw him. With the good memories came the bad ones in equal measure, and the arguments over stupid shit like leaving cupboard doors open and playing music late at night and the time he forgot to feed her gerbil for two days when she was out of town washed back to shore from the deepest crevices of her mind. 

She’d been with men after him, had flings and meaningless kisses with boys who’d treated her much less kindly than he had. And when she thought about it, the anger and resentment she’d felt when she thought about those few days she spent lost in Italy stemmed from the fact she’d been forced to confront what she’d always feared since she was little. 

That Bugsy was alone in the world, forgettable, someone you could leave behind and sleep soundly. 

But when she thought of that now, the first face she pictured was Spencer, and how he would tell her to knock it off if she ever said that out loud, because he would never leave her, in a foreign country or even at a gas station if she needed to get fuel. He always walked up to the pump with her because he knew exactly how many women got kidnapped in places like that every year, he'd told her so already. 

And she knew the person she was when she could have loved Sean, the person who was reminded just how easy it was to leave her behind, was gone. In its place was the girl who Spencer loved like it was as easy as breathing. And the thought of it made her feel just that little bit less bitter towards the blonde man who fiddled with his rough, bloodied hands. 

“I was a dumb kid, I did a lot of things that I’m not proud of,” He swallowed heavily, his frown looking strikingly similar to Aaron's as he did, but she would never remind him, “But I did always wonder whether I’d see your name in the news curing some disease I could never pronounce or being the first person to learn like every single language there is,” He smiled sadly, and the old her knew him just well enough to know he was being honest, because his nose turned red whenever he lied. 

The thought of it made her lips curve up, despite how annoyed she’d been to see him again, and there was something bashful about the way the slid a hand into his to give it a quick squeeze.

“We were eighteen, Sean. No one has themselves figured out at eighteen,” She said earnestly, her head dipping to meet his ashamed gaze.

He shook his head, “You deserved so much better than I could ever give you, we both knew that,” He pulled his hand away, and her expression contorted into confusion, “It’s probably why you're with that doctor, right? Aaron said he’s like a whizz kid,”

“He’s not-We’re-” She sighed, running a hand over where the EMTs had stitched the gash on the back of her arm, “It’s complicated,”

“Complicated like we were complicated?” He asked, her fingertip tracing every single nook where they had looped the suture through her skin. 

She smiled to herself and looked over at him, something weighty like closure passing between the two of him as he watched her take his tired face in, knowing they were nothing more than just passing ships in the night now. 

“You meant something to me once, Sean, no matter how much we drove each other up the wall,” She snickered, and something like an exhausted chuckle matched her, “But it’s different with him. It’s like everything I do means something to the world when I’m with him, you know?” 

Sean took in the wistful look in her eyes, the girl he’d known who had only gotten stronger, scrappier, wittier with age, and he thought he’d be lucky to ever get someone like her again.

“I hope I do,” He said, and she knocked her shoulder into his to dispel the bad memories of two teenagers figuring out what feelings and kisses and sex meant in the messiest of ways. 

“Do me a favour?” Sean hummed at her, and she looked surprisingly like herself again when she smiled at him wryly, “Call Aaron more. It’s difficult being the only disappointment child in his life,” 

Sean barked a laugh at her words, and she smiled into her lap. Who’d have thought closure would be so healing. 

–

She felt eyes on her even as she tried to nap on the jet, having returned back to their original position on the couch, her head on Spencer’s lap. She had a sixth sense to who it would be, the Spider Sense they’d been calling it despite the fact Spencer tried to tell her it was mere intuition, she glanced up to where something melancholic swirled inside his forest gaze, already watching over her despite his book being open in his lap. 

She hadn’t even opened her mouth to speak before his obscenely large hand had sneaked under her jawline, tilting her face up so he could take a better look at the messy cut. 

“Have they given you anything for the pain?” Spencer said quietly, because the other’s were already trying to sleep, and she blanked for a moment, before her hand came up to snake around his wrist gently. 

“They gave me Naproxen for two days. Spence, I’m fine, really,” 

His teeth ground together, his other hand placing his book down beside him and moving to smooth the back of her hair, the sealed wound staring daggers at him as his eyes darted over the rest of her face, just to be sure they hadn’t missed anything. 

He nodded to himself, as if to conclude his consultation and his thumb stroked down the curve of her jaw, his head whipping up to quickly make sure no one else was watching.

“What, uh,” Spencer cleared his throat nervously, her expectant eyes looking up at him, “What were you and Sean talking about?”

Her brow quirked in confusion, and it wasn’t until she felt his delicate strokes hesitate that she realised he seemed on edge, “Why?”

“N-No reason, I just was wondering, you looked like you were-” He coughed again, even though there was nothing tickling his windpipe, nothing except embarrassment, because he’d never thought he’d be the envious type. 

He braved a look at her again, worried she would be annoyed with his crass and intrusive questions, only to see her smiling at him wickedly. 

“We were what?” She asked, and Spencer went so quiet he could have heard a mouse knitting if he tried, his cheeks flushing with raspberry red heat, “Are you jealous, Spencer?” 

He shook his head fast, unable to formulate anything that wasn’t a stammer, and she sat up in her seat, throwing her legs onto the ground so she could scooch up into his side. 

“Because if you were, you know I’d find that wildly attractive right?” She murmured, his cheeks burning an even hotter shade, the sight of it all but a bone to a hound to Bugsy who loved teasing him. She snickered, leaning in close to his vermillion ear, and leaving a tiny kiss on his clenched jaw, “Don’t worry, Wonder Boy. He knows I’m all yours,” 

3. The one with the day of the dead.

“Thankyou, thankyou, my helpful little mice,” Penelope chirped as the three of them stepped into her apartment, their arms filled with shopping bags, “Set them down on the counter, I’ll unpack them later,” 

“Wow,” Bugsy gawped at the altar stood in the corner of the woman’s living room, an assortment of sweets and tissue paper flowers decorating the layers, “Oh it’s so pretty, they’re going to love it. We spent a Summer in Mexico when Mom was having talks with their President, but we moved out before October rolled around so I never got to see a Día de los Muertos,” 

Penny smiled, though she quickly looked around the rest of her apartment that had yet to be decorated, “There’s still a lot to do before the party next week and,” She huffed, the bags taking up the entirety of her kitchen table as Bugsy frowned at her, “I’m scared. I’ve never had the whole team here before,” 

“Relax, Pen, I can help you set up,” The younger woman reassured, helping unload the groceries that needed to go in the fridge as Spencer helped her carry the larger items. 

Penelope perked up watching her guests move towards the cooler, a devilish smirk twitching at her lips, “Hey, while you guys are there, can you see if I have enough hot sauce for the party?”

“Sure,” They replied in synchrony, Bugsy putting the milk and soda in the side drawers as Spencer shelved away some of the meat. They both looked at the top row, where some kind of jalapeno salsa was resting next to a jar of fake eyeballs, and the flicked a casual glance at the woman who was pouring vials of red viscous liquid made to look like blood down her cheeks for a Penelope version of a practical joke.

Bugsy blinked once, not quite surprised as she would have thought seeing Penelope attempting to scare them with something they’d seen a thousand times over for real. 

“Now, are the eyeballs marinating in anything spicy or is it just like a pickled onion type of thing because all you seem to have is the jalapeno sauce,” She said, and Penelope deflated at her bored tone, looking at the two agents in discontent. 

“You guys didn’t even flinch,” She said sadly, her dark eyes flicking between them, “My poor babies, what has the world done to you?” 

Bugsy smiled, shutting the fridge door and handing the bubbly woman a leaf of tissue paper. 

“JJ’s right, I told her I wanted to go scary this Halloween and she just laughed at me, and said that I don’t have a scary side,” Penelope whined, and Bugsy giggled. 

“Sorry, babygirl, you wouldn’t be Penelope Garcia if you were capable of scary,” She teased, waltzing around the kitchen to put away the rest of the shopping, even as the woman tried to shoo her away from helping, “I’ve seen puppies scarier than you, Pen,” 

“If it helps, you probably do,” Spencer interjected, helping Bugsy shelve something on one of the higher cabinets, his long arms weaselling over her own as he reached past her, “The building blocks of the human personality are complex, varied and multi-faceted. It’s essential to one’s mental health to want to express these hidden personalities and it’s just a fact of nature that everybody has one,”

“Everybody?” Penelope asked, ignoring the way the two of them bumbled around her kitchen, handing things between one another the way she imagined them putting away the groceries in their own kitchen, like they worked just as well in the home as they did in the field. Dare she say it, like a couple who had been married and knew each other's routines for years. “Even the two of you?” 

“Oh, absolutely, yeah,” Spencer agreed, and Bugsy flicked a smirk up at him as Pen turned to her expectantly.

"I mean, you can't tell me Bitch-Slapping our boss or fist fighting with my sister was exactly usual behaviour for me," She pointed out, and the two of them nodded in agreement, although they wouldn't have exactly called it out of character for her.

“Okay, okay, I want to see it. I want to see Dr Spencer Reid’s hidden personality,” Penelope said, a smile growing as thick and fast as a weed when he seemed thrown off by her request, and it only took one look at the younger Prentiss to know she wanted front row just as badly. 

“R-right here? Like right now you want to see it?” He stammered, all too aware of Bugsy’s amused lashes batting up at him, the innocent expression she knew made it difficult for him to say no to, and he wondered for a second if she understood the exact amount of control she had over him when she wanted to. 

“I wanna see this hidden personality, pretty boy,” She smiled with her teeth, and he felt his hands turn jittery in embarrassment. 

“Okay, alright,” Spencer shook his arms out, clearing his throat with a growling sort of husk that made her raise her brows, and in a single blink he’d locked stern eyes with her, pointing to her with a completely un-Spencer-like stance; completely rose to his full height, confident and domineering, “I know what you’re thinking,”

She really hoped he didn’t. Because what she was really thinking was just how hot he sounded with that deep sort of timbre, that cocksure attitude. 

“You’re thinking ‘Did that guy just fire five shots or did that guy just fire six shots?’” He went on, his tone deadly serious, as her lips parted in surprise, and what had started out as a game turned into some wildly lewd thoughts fast, “You’re going to have to ask yourself a question; Do you feel lucky, pun-k,”

She swallowed haughtily, as he squeezed his eyes shut and when he looked at her again he was entirely puppy like the way he usually looked, none the wiser to the way her stomach had coiled in want. 

“That was Clint Eastwood from Dirty Harry,” He explained, looking to Penelope because he had no idea what that strange look on Bugsy’s face was, only to see his techy friend just as in awe, “I mean I know it’s not as effective as my dominant personality, but I really think it’s there-”

Penelope’s phone sprung to life with a call from Hotch and she quickly spluttered an excuse that they needed to leave right away, grabbing for her keys and heading for the door. 

Spencer made a move to follow her, only to feel a hand grab his shirt and turn him right back around, Bugsy still staring at him with that look in her eye, like she’d had too much caffeine or been told there was a million dollars cash waiting for them at home.

“Is everything okay-”

“Is Clint Eastwood strictly a party trick or would I be able to have him on request, maybe?” She said, her hands oddly tight as they grabbed at his soft stomach, and it was like he heard the click in his brain when he realised what she meant. 

“R-request, I guess,” He stumbled for composure, finding his footing when he felt her palms were clammy, “You got a thing for cops?” 

“Just the one, I guess,” She said with a clenched jaw, and he laughed though it sounded more like a choke, as she darted right behind Penelope to avoid suspicion. 

–

By the time the party rolled around, Penelope had decked her apartment out to the nines, marigolds and tissue garlands and lights and food of all sorts spread out across the altar, a mix of alcohol and juices available in pitchers, because Penelope was nothing if not a people pleaser. 

The doorbell rang right as Alex and Bugsy poured themselves some margarita, complete with the eyeball ice cubes ofcourse, and Penelope fussed in her beautiful dress, muttering under her breath the way she did when she was nervous. 

“What, what, what,” She murmured, her blonde curls bouncing with her steps as she reached for the door, “I thought you said you couldn’t come!” 

Bugsy’s head whipped to the door, Aaron looking much more casual than they were used to seeing him as he entered the decorated home, his colleagues all dressed smartly and in some shade of black. 

“Jack got a last minute sleepover invitation so I hope it’s okay,” He said, a bottle of rosé in his hand he’d brought as a contribution. 

“Ofcourse, ofcourse,” Penelope sang, leading him over to the altar where everyone stood with their offerings, sipping on their glasses of liquor, “Okay, everybody, I guess it’s time to start, here you go sir,”

She handed him a freshly poured glass of wine, chilled courtesy of the eyeball, and Aaron thanked her kindly, taking a generous sip to catch up with the others. 

“I want to thank everybody for doing this with me, and our altar’s burning, and I just feel so blessed to have you all here,” Penelope started with a grateful smile on her painted lips, a handful of old photos between her fingertips, “I will start, um, this is my mom and dad,” She said, nostalgia idling her tone as she gently placed down a worn picture of a teen couple holding a beautiful, blonde girl, eyes bigger than moons and full of curiosity, just how Bugsy would have imagined Penny as a baby, “I miss them. And this is my cat, Simba with his usual bowl of soda pop. He was a weird cat,”  

The team chuckled, looking at the enormous ginger Tom that lapped at the bubbly liquid. Bugsy took a sip of her drink as JJ took a step forward with a smile, her own photo in hand. 

“This is my sister, Roselyn. Ros.” JJ said, placing down a photo of a fifteen year old with identical eyes and nose to her, sitting it next to a small statue of the eiffel tower, “She always dreamed she’d live is Paris so um,” She swallowed, looking at her sister laying in the grass of their childhood home, something girlish in her gaze, “It didn’t happen but I thought this would bring her some happiness,”

They took it in turns bringing their offerings and pictures: David bringing some Cubs tickets for a soldier he had lost in Vietnam, Alex bringing a crossword for her mother, Spencer sliding down a picture of Maeve silently, alongside a cut out picture of Nikola Tesla, Morgan bringing his father, Hitch putting down the picture of Haley he kept in his wallet. 

Which left them all to turn to the youngest agent, who seemed flustered.

“So, I fortunately have not lost anyone properly thus far, so bare with me here guys,” She said fishing out an old scrapbook photo of her as a seven year old, a small orange snake wrapped around the length of her arm, twenty two year old Emily standing right behind her, the pair of them with beaming smiles as the snake seemingly poked its tongue out for the camera. 

Penelope clutched her chest in horror, “Is that a-”

“This is Tigger, the corn snake Emily gave to me when she left home,” She explained, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the million dollar grin she had in the photo, three of her front teeth missing sweetly, “I had him until I was about twelve before he kicked the serpent bucket, but he was cute for a slithery little guy,” 

She drew another photo, an ultrasound showing two tiny embryos and she put it beside the picture of Tigger, and the group drew a shared breath. 

“Bug, I never knew you were…” Spencer started, his stomach flipping when he saw the outline of the foetuses, only for the girl’s eyes to widen. 

“No! No, it’s not like that, this is um,” She cleared her throat awkwardly, scratching the back of her hand with a guilty look, “This is the twin I absorbed in the womb,” She said, and she felt the rest of her team gawking at her without having to look, “I guess I’d like to say, uh, I’m sorry pal. It was nice while it lasted, I hope you can forgive me,” 

“You’re being serious?” Morgan asked, gawping at the girl, right as Hotch broke out into disbelieving snickers, probably spurred on by the wine, and Alex was quick to join him, her hand over her mouth.

Bugsy turned to him with a ‘duh’ kind of look on her face, “Oh, 100% serious, yeah,” 

“Is that why you’re a little…” Rossi started, only he found himself stuck for words when she looked at him betrayed. 

“A little, what?” She asked, looking to JJ who cracked into a chuckle, putting her head in her palm.

“What he means is you have a big personality,” Alex said, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulder and giving her a motherly squeeze, hoping they hadn’t offended her, “And we wouldn’t change it for the world,”

“I should hope so, she got a double helping.” Morgan cackled, and Bugsy smacked his arm with a smile. 

“Every time I think I know everything about you, you come out with something new,” Penelope said, her own snickering laugh meeting the girl’s ears, “You’re like Jason Bourne,” 

“God help us if there had been two of you, Prentiss,” David added, patting the girl on the head as they laughed, and Penelope raised a toast to their altar, the rest of the team doing the same before they sipped out their cups and allowed themselves to enjoy the rest of the party. 

–

“Oh, I have something for you!” Bugsy said, springing to her feet and almost tripping over Sergio who had curled up by her legs. 

She’d cut herself off after her third, and by the time midnight rolled around she’d almost completely sobered up enough to the point her and Alex had been playing hangman except with only Old English words.

Her and Spencer had gotten home twenty minutes later, the two of them exhausted from an evening well spent, the melancholy happiness in the room draining them to the point Bugsy had immediately changed into her pyjamas when she got into the house.

Her pyjamas being Spencer’s boxers and one of his shirts since he’d inadvertently been hiding all of the underwear-top combinations she’d gotten from other flings that she’d brought when she moved into his. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” He said earnestly, and she simply waved his humble attitude off, the two of them sat on the sofa in their nightwear, flicking through the late night TV. 

He smiled, watching her bustle into her room and root around her closet, before she emerged with a terracotta coloured pot of lilac flowers, whirling on her heel to head for him. 

“What’s this?” Spencer asked, standing to meet her and Bugsy simpered, because she’d felt silly for buying them in the first place. Perhaps it was some left over guilt considering she’d spent the majority of Maeve’s existence in her life hating the girl, or atleast hating what she had that Bugsy thought she could never be privy to. Perhaps it was because all things considered she wanted Spencer to know that it was okay for him to mourn, because she’d never force him to hurry up his process when he’d been there for every second of hers. 

She handed him the potted plant, the small purple petals in the shape of half moons lighting up at him, and his mind raced as to what species they were since he’d certainly never seen them around the East Coast before.

“Scaevola aemula,” She said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt around her waist as she spoke because his eyes were unnervingly doe-like when he looked at her in the dark lamp light, “It’s called the fairy fan flower. I thought-"

She paused, her expression morphing into embarrassment, "Wait, this is so stupid, I’ll send them back,” She shook her head, the worry overtaking the rational part of her as she grabbed for the pot to stash it back in her room, but he held it out of her reach, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her body against his hip, as the other stretched out to keep her from snatching back the plant. 

“Tell me. What?” He said, his lips stretching into a devious smile to see her so shy suddenly, and she buried her face into her hands as he watched her, “I'm not going to think it's stupid. Why did you get me these?”

“They’re not for you- well, they are, but I just thought,” She stumbled over her sentences, her heart thumping that this was entirely the wrong move, that she was poking at an open wound no matter how caring she was being. Clearing her throat, she let her forehead thump onto his shoulder, her eyes squeezing shut as she spoke, “I thought you could keep it so that you can think of Maeve every time you water it, since Maeve was the name of the fairy queen,” 

He was quiet. God, why was he so quiet? Her breath was thick as molasses as they sat in the silence for a second. She nearly jumped a foot in the air when two of his fingers ran delicately beneath her chin, tilting her head up enough that he could see her face and she drew a sigh of relief when she saw he didn’t seem angry or hurt at all. 

His eyes were soft as pools of honey as he looked at her, his brows stirring into a sad-happy mix. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” She whispered, their faces so close they were sharing breath, and he shook his head, his fingers never leaving her skin where they forced her to stay near, gave her no choice but to keep her looking at him. She didn’t think she could stop even if she wanted to. Everything pretty about him was dialled to a thousand whenever she got close, and his thick lashes blinked at her like he was seeing a mirage, a daydream. 

“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, Bug,” Spencer murmured back to her, his every word fanning over the bridge of her nose, and she sighed in content, melting back into his side as he pulled her into a hug, his own face burying into the crook of her neck, “Thankyou,” 

She smiled and hummed in happiness, wrapping her arms around his slender waist and drawing him so close she got a whiff of his shampoo. 

“I have a bigger pot in my room, if you like, then we can keep it in the kitchen sill, away from the boys,” She offered, beaming at him when he stroked over the back of her hair affectionately. She hopped out of the embrace, “I’ll go get it for you-”

“You’ve done enough, Bug,” Spencer reminded, something grateful in his tone as she paused and waited for whatever he was going to say, “I’ll go get the pot, you go decide what movie we should watch,”

“You’re sure?” Bugsy asked, her brows furrowed as she checked for signs of an escape in his movements. But he just smiled back at her tiredly, the purple flowers his accomplice as she gave in and headed back towards the sofa, “It’s by my dresser, where my paper bin used to be,”

He set the gift on the kitchen table, the lilac hues brightening up the kitchen already like they just knew how touched Spencer felt to have received them, like there really was some kind of fairy magic burrowed into the soil as they watched the two of them dance around one another, heading to opposite ends of the apartment with lingering glances and bashful smiles.

Spencer thought his chest couldn’t swell any bigger in size, his heart so inevitably full of her, it left room for no one else, not even Maeve, which was the first time he’d brought himself to think that in months. 

+1 The one with the book.

He opened the door to her bedroom, her duvet tossed everywhere because it was a rare occasion she made her bed before they left for work, her clothes strewn about the floor in the general direction of the bathroom, like she’d stripped on the way there, and the thought of it made his stomach seize with a heat, the idea of her undressing little more than a wall away from him knocking his every thought from his head.

The vase. He needed a bigger vase.

Quickly collecting her clothes up and shoving them into her laundry basket for her, he diverted his attention to her dresser, where the slightly roomier pot sat on the floor, a towel underneath it to catch any water remnants and he stepped over her various note pads and books she’d clearly tossed off the bed before she went to sleep. 

He tried to ignore them, he really did, but his scratching urge to keep things tidy for her wrestled with his conscience that said to leave her stuff alone. Before he could talk himself out of it, he found himself organising them into a neat pile in his hands and placing them on top of her dresser where one of her books had made it safely, or at least safe enough she wouldn’t trip over it. 

His gaze dropped to the book already on there, its leather cover entirely melting into the background of the dark chestnut dresser, yet it stared daggers up at him like it had been waiting to be noticed.

Great Expectations, Charles Dickens.

The book looked old enough to be easily from original 1900s, at least one of the first few hundred published. It was scuffed a little on the edges, the black lettering of the printed title choppy in places where it had been handled recklessly, and the leaves of paper were atom thin. The smell of dust and paper clouded his nose when he picked it up delicately.

Opening the front cover curiously to see its printed date, he was stopped in his tracks to see a little post it note on the title page, covering Mr Dickens’ name with a scrawled handwriting he’d known for six years. 

Six whole years. Nearly seven. He felt like he’d known her his whole life, when in startling reality he’d not even known her a third of it. 

And there it was, where he was expecting a list of notes or her thoughts on how David Copperfield had much more likeable characters, anything that she’d thought important enough to scratch down on the front page, instead was his name. 

Spencer,

He felt his breath catch the second he read it, contemplated slamming the book shut right then and there because this felt illicit to read whatever it was she’d scribbled out just for him even if it was dedicated to the stupid man who’d been asking her to wait on his stupid head and stupider heart to align so he could give her exactly everything she deserved. 

His gaze snapped away from the page, that voice in his head telling him this was wrong, that if she’d wanted him to see that book she would have given it to him already. And yet, like it did most days, the beating organ in his chest writhed in annoyance that he’d looked away, that he’d followed the rules one too many times for its liking. He bit his cheek, the two halves of himself arguing amongst themselves. 

After a second of debating, his eyes fell slowly to the note, a creeping guilt skirting down his spine that he was reading something private. How could something be private and yet meant for him? His brain scoffed at the dichotomy of it all, while his chest lurched when he caught a glimpse of more of her writing. 

‘Spencer,’ His heart trembled almost as much as his hand as he traced the writing with his forefinger, imagining her writing it out in a little ball point pen, her body slumped over the book with every intent of having him read her little note. He imaged her breath fanning across the page, her hand warm as her knuckles stroked over the paper, and it felt so much more intimate than a little post-it when he thought of her like that, ‘By the time you’re reading this I’ll be back home from London and we’ll probably be in your apartment doing that stupid thing we do when we pretend like I haven’t missed you more than anything in the whole world while I’ve been here in England,’

She wrote this in London, probably in that tiny apartment her and Emily had rented on a short lease, the one she’d said smelled like mildew and dust and wet wood but had a gorgeous view of Hyde Park when she looked out her bedroom window. 

She’d written it months ago, so why hadn’t she given it to him?

‘I miss you every day. You’re all I think about when I go for a run, and I think sometimes you’d really like it here. I’ve mapped out all the bookshops I’ve found and all the places that do really good coffee if you ever did want to visit England, but I think I’d be happy with you even if we lived in a little ditch on the side of the road like two drowning rats,’

His chest seized, tears lining his lashes when he thought about that day she’d yanked him into a hug the second she saw him, when he’d been too busy thinking about Maeve and burying whatever he felt for Bugsy entirely behind him. 

You should have called, Bug. He’d said, like his eidetic memory wanted to twist the knife in just that bit deeper, and he didn’t need his freaky brain to remember how her face had fallen when he’d said it like that. Like he didn’t even want to see her. 

He hated himself. He hated himself more than she’d ever had. Even if she had more rights than anyone to despise his selfish guts. 

‘Anyway, I know Dickens isn’t your favourite or anything, but I got you this because I know you like the original copies and because it made me think of you (but then again, what doesn’t?). 

I never truly enjoyed the living part of life until you were in mine. And so I guess that means I’ll love you until the life part stops too. 

All my heart,

Bug.’

He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until he finished the note, digesting every single word the average speed instead of his usual method of inhaling the letters faster than should be possible, like he wanted to savour every single one because they’d come from her. 

He heard her saying every single one, the thought striking him like someone had cracked him across the face with a paddle. She’d wanted to say all of this when she was in London, when he’d been too busy for her, when he’d been too busy with Maeve. 

I never truly enjoyed the living part of life until you were in mine. 

“Did you find it?” Her voice called from the other room, no doubt where she was settling down to flick the movie on, her heart so delicate and gracious because she was still waiting for him. 

Even now, even when she was in his clothes and under the blanket she’d brought from her apartment for them to use on movie nights because it got cold too fast in his house, when she was waiting for him to come back. 

Spencer felt knocked out of a dream, like someone had yanked the chord on his music, shaken him awake into the freezing realisation she was waiting for a reply. 

He’d made her wait long enough. 

He barely heard her footsteps entering her own room, probably worried when he hadn’t responded and she said his name, “Spence?” A shudder rolled over his neck when he heard it, a siren song he’d been hearing like a mantra for weeks and he felt something fat and full well in his chest when he turned to look at her, standing there in nothing but boxers and a shirt, just as she had when he’d first met her. 

Except she was his. She was waiting on his call, on his signal, on his word go. 

And it was like the idea of being with her for the rest of his life made his living part worth it too. Like it always had done. 

Her eyes fell down to where his hand rested on top of the book, the page splayed open where he’d delicately flicked it open, the yellow post-it catching in the light and making her expression fall. 

They looked at each other, the same thought channelling between them, their brains meshed together on some other kind of bluetooth the same way they’d always done, only this time it was a prickling hive mind that gave them both gooseflesh the second they locked eyes. 

“Why didn’t you give me this?” He asked, his voice small because he already knew the answer, not daring to move a muscle like she was some kind of deer ready to be spooked. 

“You were busy,” She said equally as sheepish, her thumb moving to pick the side of her nail when she saw his still stature. They went quiet again, neither of them daring so much as to breathe too loud because they both knew what was on that note. It was the closest she could ever come to splitting open her own chest and handing him that thumping wad of bloodied muscle herself, and it was only when he turned to look at her did she panic, words tumbling from her lips; anything to stop him from walking away because she’d been poking around a fresh wound, “You weren’t supposed to see- I mean you were but only when you wanted to, I didn’t want you to think-”

Except he wasn’t heading for the door like she’d thought, he was heading straight for her. 

“Spence, please, I wasn’t going to tell you until-” But she’d shut up, because instead of replying anything back to her, instead of telling her she could have his heart and his soul and everything in between if she’d ever ask for it again, instead of telling her she was the thing that had kept him alive, like she might as well be the blood that rushed through every one of his veins, he grabbed her face in his hands so hard her back hit the wall, her hands flying out to stop herself from falling. 

And he kissed her, so hard he thought he might cry because it was better than any high he’d ever had, any drug on the market, better than his wildest dreams. She froze for a second, worried she’d tripped and fallen on her way over, that this was a concussion spun wild, because there was no way he was kissing her with every inch of their available skin pressing against one another, his hands swallowing her cheeks whole, his body invading her space, his breath rushing through her nose that bumped against his clumsily. 

Bugsy woke up after a second, her hands gripping onto his slender waist like he was pulling her drowning out of water, like he was dragging her from a flame which she didn’t think sounded too far off since her skin had become molten, her cheeks hot, her chest wrenching for control like she’d inhaled black smoke. 

But he was there, kissing her like she was all he had left, and she kissed him back with equal fervour, whimpering when he bit her lip, a hand wrapping around her waist to tug her just that bit closer to his stomach. Any molecule of her that was left behind was stolen by the action, and all she could think was that every inch of her was his, entirely his, his forever if he wanted it. 

“I love you, I love you so much,” He gasped, drawing away for a split second of air before he took her lips to his own once more, twice, and a third for good luck, their teeth knocking together as he wanted to tell her that a million more times while still kissing her, “I love you, I love you. God, I don’t think I ever want to stop saying it,” 

He pulled her to him again, silencing his own stupid ramblings of a mad man, a whine dragging from his throat as his brows furrowed, his lips soft and plump as he kissed her like he was begging for honey after a hundred day fast. 

And she smiled into his mouth, because Spencer was finally hers. 

--

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[artyandink]

‘34 château margaux

SUMMARY: Spencer never knew to feel about you. Actually, he did. You were a career criminal, but also a liaison for the FBI, which prevented your arrest. You’re cunning, manipulative, persuasive and oh, so seductive. Spencer was warned against you, and he knew it. But even a genius profiler with an eidetic memory couldn’t resist you. Even a genius profiler with an eidetic memory can’t help but lose control around a woman like you.

TW: mentions of smoking, wine, seduction, badass reader, s7 Dr Spencer Reid, mentions of organised crime, mobs and mafia, Spencer’s weak for reader the poor baby, Hotch slander, smut

STW: Spence doesn’t stop the reader from kissing him, marking, oral (f. receiving), brief handjob, praise kink if you squint, dirty talk but Spencer style, degradation I think, wine play (I think), temperature play as subtext, ass slapping, profiling during sex, threat of exhibitionism, light choking, switch!Spencer, switch!reader, pussydrunk!Spencer, slight overstimulation, fingering

SONG INSPO: Greedy by Ariana Grande, Acapulco by Jason Derulo, I Did Something Bad by Taylor Swift and Make you Mine by Madison Beer

Femme fatales had a specific profile.

The "femme fatale" is typically depicted as a highly attractive and enigmatic woman in her late twenties to early forties, often characterized by a seductive allure that masks her manipulative and dangerous nature. Her primary weapon is her ability to ensnare men through charm, beauty, and sexual allure, ultimately leading them to their downfall.

While her motivations vary, she is often driven by power, revenge, or hidden trauma. Early literary examples include the biblical figure of Delilah, who betrays Samson, and Salome, who demands the head of John the Baptist. In classical mythology, Circe and the Sirens use their allure to seduce and destroy men.

The femme fatale's archetype is also evident in later works like Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth, who manipulates her husband to commit regicide. This profile of a femme fatale highlights her as a complex figure whose allure conceals a more sinister intent.

That was your profile.

Hotch had warned Spencer not to get too close to you, because you knew how to use your everything, and you had a sweet spot for the latter. Not because Spencer really was a likeable son of a bitch, but because you found him more fun than the other agents.

You were a pretty face, sure, but you were also a genius. A Dr Spencer Reid level genius, but you were the side of the spectrum that dissolved into a life of high crime and corruption.

Instead of becoming a federal agent - or law enforcement - you were the trusted advisor to a lot of the mafia and mob population, and even that was enough to put you away on charges of incitement/inchoate crime. But you were useful, extremely useful, so you also then became the liaison for the FBI whenever the mafia or mob circles became involved in an investigation.

This time, you were, as the unsub of a case in Las Vegas, Nevada seemed to be purchasing drugs like M99, ketamine and small doses of chloroform, mixed with LSD. It was a powerful mix and the dose was enough to cause immediate system failure and then death. The drugs were being purchased from casinos which were rumoured to be the cover of Vegas’ mob circles.

Your hotel room was the kind of thing Spencer only hoped to see in movies, with warm lighting, patterned red wallpaper, mahogany flooring with underfloor heating, glass and gold tables, mahogany dressers and a huge king-size four poster with curtains the same colour as the walls. There was a liquor cabinet as well as a fancy looking cooler, and it was nothing like Spencer had been used to seeing as he grew up in this very city.

It didn’t feel like his territory anymore. He wasn’t as comfortable as he usually was around these parts. He took the couple steps in, having closed the door behind him, now standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Maybe you weren’t in. Phew.

“Dr Reid.” Came the voice that made Spencer feel like he was on fire, a perfectly manicured hand brushing over his shoulder as you walked up from behind him, having come from the bathroom that was no doubt as fancy as the bedroom itself. After all, this was the penthouse.

You lived it big as a career criminal.

You stepped out from behind him, lips that he’d unintentionally imagined on his body stretched into a smirk as you picked up a quarter-full wine glass from the table and took a sip. You were killing him, wearing a black silk robe with just the right hint of lace, which stopped at your mid thigh and had a neckline that had his eyes dropping briefly before he schooled them and gave himself a very firm lecture inside his head.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Again, that voice, the cadence of it, Spencer couldn’t understand how something as simple as a damn voice could have him so unbelievably weak for you.

Spencer raised his hand in greeting with his bravest attempt at a smile, like he usually did.

“It’s a case.” He dug in his messenger bag, handing you some photos of some bodies. “Someone’s targeting bank workers around Vegas. It’s a ‘drug smoothie’ of M99, ketamine and small doses of chloroform, mixed with LSD. Morgan dubbed it that. Actually, smoothies are meant to boost the health of the drinker and contain nutrients from a liquid base such as yogurt or milk puréed with fruit, vegetables or items in a mixer, so I don’t see how this particular drug mix is a smoothie— a milkshake perhaps, as it hasn’t got as much nutritional value beside providing substantial energy through the intake of sugar and carbohydrates.”

He paused, seeing the soft, amused smile on your face, the light of the room casting a perfect shadow on the curve of your cheek. It felt like you were ethereal. “Did I say too much?” Spencer said meekly, rubbing his jaw.

“Not at all, Dr Reid, I completely agree. You can tell your friend Morgan to change it and you have my wholehearted support.” You gave him a nod, your head tilted and eyes looking big with the way you were looking at him. “You have no clue just how much your knowledge turns a girl on, baby, no clue at all.”

Spencer cleared his throat, realising that he was veering off topic and also almost salivating at the sound of you calling him baby. Having to lecture his eyes once again for looking at your legs that seemed to go on for days and seemed to also be calling for him to grab, knead and grip. “We need to stay on topic. Hotch needs the information about the case, and you need to give it.”

Spencer couldn’t help but always let his mind drop into the gutter at the sight of you. It was a Pavlovian response at this point— pure, unbridled instinct.

He couldn’t help but notice that with the way the robe draped on your body, you had nothing on underneath. That kind of assumed information had Spencer reeling.

You waved a perfectly manicured hand with scarlet nails, dismissing the idea of maintaining professionalism. “Hotch needs this, Hotch needs that. No offence to him, but he’s got a lock on you, Dr Reid. Enjoy for a night, let your hair down.”

“Well, t-the phrase ‘let your hair down’ originally was meant literally back in 1850, which was its first recorded usage but it has its roots in the 17th century. It was taken literally because women wore their hair pinned up in public, but the meaning of the phrase was to ‘get familiar’.”

Oh.

“Sorry, I can’t.” Spencer added hurriedly, searching for a notebook and pen in his bag. Licking his lips subtly at the sight of your v-neck and the way your hair framed your face. The curve of that pretty neck he wanted to kiss and lavish so it made those pretty lips fall open—

Jesus, keep it together.

“Anyway, do you want some wine?” You asked, tapping the bottle. “‘34 Château Margaux. This hotel really does have good taste.”

“I don’t drink on the job.” Spencer answered coolly. “And definitely not with criminals.” He would had Hotch not warned him— bad Spencer.”

You pouted, feigning upset. “That just breaks my heart. Putting my job against me? I’m only the advisor to some very powerful forty-and-above men who want some sexual gratification and overall ego boosts and also carry some lovely baggage with mommy issues written all over it. They want a pretty face to spill their secrets to, I give them that and get some cash in return.”

You saw the look on his face. “I’m not apologising for being a career woman.”

“Yet you liaise with the FBI about all that these forty-or-older sexually frustrated men tell you.” He countered quickly, firmly looking you in the eye. Not down at your lips, not at your tits, nor your thighs.

Spencer shook his head in exasperation, even though a shiver ran down his spine at how you advanced towards him, undoing his tie with a practiced hand. “What- ma’am, you can’t do that—”

“Ma’am?” You laughed, getting the maroon tie off and dropping it to the floor, unbuttoning his collar deftly. “Jesus, sweetie, that makes me feel old. Call me by my name, don’t be shy.”

Your name slipped off his tongue in barely a whisper, and became his only known prayer when he felt the warmth of your hands through his shirt, sliding up and up until the searing heat ran over his neck, resting in his hair and trailing down his arm, your nose brushing his before slotting in place.

Oh, God, he thought as you took his hand in your own soft one and guided it to press against your thigh, the fingertips of his index, middle and ring finger feeling silk while his palm, thumb and fifth finger felt smooth, creamy skin.

Oh, fuck, he thought as your lips got close enough to his to be a teasing venture into the cracks in his walls and defences that he’d flimsily put up against you.

“I’ll give you the information you need.” You said softly, in a way that had Spencer’s breath hitching. He should have looked away. He should’ve removed his hand from your thigh, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He was stuck like that, entranced by you. “You just need to let loose for me. For one night, I’m all yours. Drop that professionalism, Dr Reid. Let yourself go.”

“You’re a career criminal.” Spencer murmured, his hand beginning to rub your thigh, gripping slightly at the end of the downward stroke. Bad hand.

“Semantics.” You smirked, biting your lip— oh, hell, that did nothing for his self control. It made him want to kiss those lips until they bruised or swelled, until they numbed. His hand on your thigh made his tongue long to devour your pussy. The way you were looking him made him feel like he was merely a puppet on strings. “Come on, Dr Reid. Don’t deny yourself a good time, hm?”

Spencer would’ve answered, but then your lips pressed against his, and suddenly, he had clarity. That this was wrong, so very wrong. But it felt so damn good. His hand now kneading your thigh was wrong but felt electric.

He pulled back, but his mouth didn’t need to do the chasing that they ached to do. You did it for him, silencing any bubbling protest. You kissed him for the sake of coaxing him to give in, to just kiss and touch until his lips and conscience went deliciously numb.

“We can’t-” He felt your lips against his, a hum replacing his words, unknowingly stepping back towards the bed. Or maybe he knew. “We - mm - Hotch will - mhm—”

“Baby, what Aaron Hotchner doesn’t know what hurt him.” You murmured, pushing him back onto the bed. Spencer fell back without a protest, taking you in, especially as you straddled his lean form that had scooted up the bed, set his messenger bag aside and began popping the buttons of his shirt while grazing his lips with your own, teasing him, taunting him and daring him to let go as you rolled your hips slow and steady against his.

A grinding motion that drove him insane and made him moan and gasp. The fabric of his trousers really did nothing to alleviate the friction and pressure.

Spencer’s hands shot to your hips, unknowingly helping you and guiding your movements under the guise of getting you off him. “Ma’am, I mean—” He whimpered your name instead of saying it like a normal guy would, “please, d-don’t—”

Saying don’t stop was the intention, but he held himself back with the rapidly fraying thread of control. His eyes screwed shut then opened wide with a gasp, wanting to lose himself in you.

He wondered if this was his state with every woman or just you.

Definitely you was the answer when you took your mostly empty glass of wine, pouring the remaining contents over his chest. Your cold hand cupped the side of his neck, a shiver flitting over his warm skin as you then bent forward, lapping up the liquid from his chest. Sucking, drinking the earthy-noted wine with a suspiciously high efficiency. A moan that even surprised him left his mouth when you ground down against him again, your tongue on his skin, and he never hated his trousers more than right this moment as the fabric strained against his clothed need.

He loathed them when you reached for the sash of your robe, untying the waves of tantalising silk fell off your shoulders and over the side of the bed, revealing nothing underneath.

His mouth went dry.

He swallowed.

He snapped.

Within a second, you were flipped over, Spencer’s lips crashing down on yours as he kicked his shoes off, toed his socks off as he kissed you like he was going feral, hand tangling in your hair as he practically rutted against you, hard and fast and oh, so relieving.

He was gripping your face, free hand pushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue and making the blazing journey down your neck, which you bared to him gladly.

“Is this what you wanted?” Spencer panted, sucking at your pulse. “You wanted me to lose control, baby? Yeah, you got it. You. Got. It.” He punctuated the last three with nips to your collarbone and followed up with presses of his mouth on the swell of your tits.

You couldn’t even think, just letting out moans and sighs and needy whimpers of his name and unintelligible sounds, which did good to satisfy his frustration. Spencer’s mouth enveloped your nipple, sucking while tweaking the other between his fingers to have you arching into him and a smirk forming around his temporary fixation.

He switched his attention, pushing you down by your waist with his free hand to keep you from arching up. “Sit pretty and take it.”

Oh, those words sent a hot shiver up your spine. And then back down again, straight to your already soaking pussy.

He let your tit go with a small gasp, his eyes zeroing in on the prize and prompting him to start kissing down your stomach and nipping at your thighs.

If you chose to wear that robe for another person in the near future, they’d see his marks on your thighs. His. That was a thought that had a warmth swelling in his chest and cock.

He pushed your legs apart, holding them apart with his elbows and biting his lip at the feel of your hand in his hair. Testing the waters, his middle finger pushed with no resistance into your throbbing pussy, which had you gasping and moaning his name, while Spencer groaned yours upon feeling how you squeezed merely one finger.

Spencer had long fingers. Imagine what that meant for all you ladies out there.

He would’ve began pumping it, but he withdrew it and began licking it clean, tasting you on his tongue and almost whining at how good it was. Ignoring your whimper at the loss of contact, he maintained very intense eyes contact with you as he licked one long stripe up your cunt.

That didn’t last very long. The moment he got one proper hit of you, his eyes rolled back, then closed, mouth fell open, and he properly got to work, drinking you up like you did that wine on his body.

You’d honestly never been with a man as dedicated to eating pussy than Dr Spencer Fucking Reid.

“I’ve profiled you, y’know.” He murmured, still lapping at you and acting as if you weren’t writhing, moaning and arching your back - a complete mess - while he was having a fucking casual conversation with you and being the little shit that caused it.

He paused to suck at your clit as if it was all casual and part of a daily routine, little hums and encouragements between words where he’d absolutely devour you and make it look like him playing poker. Easy. “You’re promiscuous - mmh - like Lady Macbeth, except without the - mhm - implied infanticide and insanity.”

Spencer used his elbows locking your thighs in place to spread you open and get a new angle, and god damn it worked, because while you were crying out his name to Jesus and the holy mother Virgin Mary he was acting like this was another day at the office. “You use your body to get what you want - that’s it, be loud, baby - and on all counts it works. You also know how to play into people’s - fuck - psyche. It’s what makes you a textbook femme fatale.”

His middle finger slid in again, along with his index - both ridiculously long - and he crooked them just right, reaching places you didn’t even know existed and hitting the bullseye that was your g-spot all while tracing his name on your clit. Again, acting like you weren’t a complete and utter mess by now, but you were too far gone to care.

“You have an ability to see someone’s emotional desires— now, for example.” Spencer glances up at you, his free hand massaging your thigh and his fingers working you, pumping in and out and making sure his thumb got your clit while he talked. “It makes you highly manipulative, a-and your confident demeanour makes it - so tight, pretty girl - easy for people to trust and confide in you, hence why you’re the advisor to a lot of the mafia bosses on the FBI’s most - mmh - wanted list.”

Upon feeling and seeing how close you were, even if you didn’t know it yourself, Spencer smirked up at your face, looking like the prettiest picture with your eyes rolled back, mouth open, hand holding the sheets and your cheeks as pigmented as they could go. “But you’re easy to read when you’re in a vulnerable position. So why don’t you be a good girl, and come for me?”

You came apart easily at his cue, your high crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, feeling him lap at your pussy to clean you up— or so you thought. He actually didn’t stop, murmuring something about “one more” as his brow furrowed in concentration, really zeroing in on his target.

Not stopping, not letting up.

You were pretty sure you saw God and his army of angels frowning upon the sinful deed you two were partaking in, and how you were partaking of each other, while Spencer continued to steal your thoughts with that damn talented tongue and fingers.

He moaned at the taste of you, feeling drunk on everything you were giving him. Your sounds, the feel of you, the taste of you— you consumed all his senses.

You were a forbidden fruit. He was eating it. Except he was taking more than just one bite of the apple.

When you came again after a few more practiced licks, you felt a lot more sensitive then usual, but the satisfied look on Spencer’s face told you he’d made you come twice instead of once.

Testament to his skill, you guessed.

Spencer wiped all the residue of you off his chin with his thumb, licking his lips and quickly sucking the slick off by popping the thumb into his mouth. He made it look like his everyday Tuesday.

Then he undid his belt buckle and dropped it aside, his trousers and boxers going with as he pressed kiss after kiss to your body on the slow journey up. Spencer groaned as your hand wrapped around his cock, your thumb teasing the head before your hand began to move up and down… until he stopped you.

“Not right now, baby.” He chuckled. “Another time. Statistically, I’m fifty percent more likely to come if you do that.”

“That’s the idea.” You winked, but removed your hand off his dick anyway.

“I’m sure it is.” Spencer smiled, then looked around. “Do you have condoms? J-Just cause using protection during sex, particularly condoms, is crucial for several reasons, both from a-a health and social standpoint. First, condoms are one of the most effective methods for preventing the transmission of sexually transmitted infections, i-including HIV. These infections can have long-term health consequences, some of which are irreversible or even life-threatening. By using a condom, you're significantly reducing the risk of both contracting and spreading these infections to your partner. Second, condoms are a reliable method of birth control when used correctly. They prevent sperm from reaching the egg, thereby reducing the likelihood of unintended pregnancies.”

Then you pulled out the top drawer of the bedside table, which was full of condoms of all sizes. Which had him both slightly jealous and sheepish. “Oh, uh, thanks.” Spencer grabbed one, tearing the foil off with his teeth and expertly sliding the rubber on and entering you so fast your moan came in delayed timing.

“Fuck.” You gasped, especially as you adjusted to him and even better when he started moving back and forth at a steady rhythm, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in, feeling your pussy practically mould to him in a way that had his eyes rolling back and hips snapping forward harder.

It made your nails claw at his back, which made him bite his lip and release it, claiming your lips in a hungry kiss. ‘34 Château Margaux. It had an earthy taste to it.

Your perfume was intoxicating, and he smelt of new books and a cologne that drove you mad. You also got notes of butter popcorn from his time watching Russian movies and his lips distinctly tasted of you and you only.

It felt like your claim on him.

Next thing you knew, he’d pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach and thrust into you again, his mouth latching to your shoulder and leaving marks as he took your neck by his hand, not squeezing hard, but just enough to let you know he was there.

“So tight. How’re you gonna look - shit - all those mafia bosses in the eye, huh?” He panted, punctuating his words with a snap of his hip while you were reduced to cries of his name. “When you can’t walk because of an FBI agent?”

“Spencer, fuck!” Was the only admittedly pathetic thing that came from your mouth, along with a whimper when his hand came down on the side of your ass, soothed by a rub.

“That’s right, baby, call out for me.” He murmured, sucking a mark under your ear. “Make sure everyone in this hotel can hear.”

You found yourself coming at the words, gripping the pillows with your eyes rolling back, Spencer’s own copying as he felt your cunt clamp down on him like a vice. His hand on your throat squeezed a little tighter - but he was aware that it wasn’t enough pressure to cut off an airway - with his head dropping to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the heated flesh as he followed with a few clumsy, shallow thrusts later.

Oh, he knew what he did was wrong. He just couldn’t help himself when presented with you.

Spencer pulled out of you, both of you practically spent of all your energy. You rolled onto your back, wiping away a forming tear due to your sensitive pussy being wrecked by Dr Spencer Reid, but it was worth everything.

“I forgot one thing.” He murmured, moving so he could pull you into his chest and kiss your hair. Remarkable how this man can go from a hot dominant to a hot nerd. “From your profile, I mean.”

“Yeah, Dr Reid?” You smiled, kissing him softly yet intensely, drawing a hum of contentment from his lips.

“You, ma’am,” Spencer cheekily emphasised between kisses, “are very sexually proficient.”

That got a laugh from you, breaking away to playfully swat his chest, which got a noise of surprise from him and a small "son of a bitch!". “Is that your way of telling me this was mind blowing sex?”

“That isn’t how you tell someone that?”

TAGLIST: @goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

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@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@cheynovak

[pinkiemachine]

I’ve only done some light reading on Selina, but even so, details on her past seem few and far between. Maybe there’s a reason, maybe I just haven’t looked hard enough, whatever. Someone can enlighten me in the comments. What I do know, however, is that she’s eluded to have experienced some form of abuse as a child. Now, this research came on the heels of brushing up on the rest of Batman’s rogues’ gallery and I gotta say, abuse as a backstory comes up a lot. And I’m just sitting here, like, “There are so many unique people in this world with unique traumas and hurts that this feels almost cookie cutter.” Am I wrong? I just wanna be more specific and explore problems more intimately. So… Selina Kyle. What to write for her backstory? I thought a lot about who she is as a character present day—her playful aloofness, her decision to become a cat burglar, breaking rules as if they don’t exist, always on the run, never settling down with anyone long term, stealing nice things for herself—it led me to this backstory: When Selina was a child, she was horribly neglected. Her father was almost never around and her mother was depressed, anxious, under the influence of alcohol quite often, and wished she never had a daughter. Selina found that it was always easier to live as though she were invisible. If she never got caught making a mess or being noisy or causing problems, her mother would never get mad at her, or even a acknowledge her, and neither would her father if he ever showed his face. She never received birthday gifts—or if she did, they were pitiful—and all of her attempts of reaching out via gifts to her mother and father were rejected. She was never loved and grew to believe that the only way she would ever feel cared for is if she just took care of herself and only herself. She was good at being invisible, and so she became good at stealing. She treated herself to nice things whenever she felt like it, and she rarely ever got caught. She never made close friends. She never really fell in love. She built up walls so high that no one could ever break them down… until she met Bruce. Suddenly, here was a guy who could consistently catch her red-handed. Who told her she needed to stop robbing people. Who believed she could be better. Who saw her. And even though she kept double-crossing him, escaping his grasp, and escaping justice, she found that it was a little bit harder to return to crime every time. She had always found him attractive… but the longer they chased each other around Gotham, and the longer he showed that he wasn’t going to ignore her or give up on her, the more that attraction turned into a deep feeling that Selina had never felt before. True love. She was scared of it. She didn’t know what to do with it. It was completely the opposite of everything she had ever known, and she secretly didn’t think she deserved it. After all, she was a criminal. She was a “bad guy.” Someone who stole from others for pleasure and profit. And yet Bruce believed she was a good person deep down. He believed she had the capacity for change. And in time, he would find himself falling in love with her too. By the end of their story, naturally, those walls had come crumbling down and they had each learned how to love again, something they both thought would never happen to them. 💜

[silvermoon424]

This poor woman. I can’t imagine the misogyny she grew up around (as the Tate siblings’ father was a huge misogynist and deadbeat himself). Still, she managed to become a successful lawyer with a happy family whereas her idiot brothers became sex criminals who brainwash vulnerable men. This really is a fascinating example of how people can turn out radically different despite having the same upbringing.

She’s living her best life and I’m so happy for her!

[atzloverr]

Mafia bf!Yunho x female reader

Here are some mafia!Yunho x reader headcannons/oneshot (idrk what to call it)

includes: Yunho x reader, violence, kidnapping, mafia au, fluff

- He never intended to become a frequent customer at your small coffee shop near ateez’ underground base

- It started as a place for him to go when he needed to escape the gruesome life of the mafia, when he just wanted some peace and quiet

-He soon found himself becoming a regular, and without trying to, starting to feel at home in your small cozy cafe

- He still remembers the first time he saw you, looking so cute in your little apron, focusing on making a specific espresso art for a customer.

- You always found yourself lighting up when Yunho entered the cafe, his presence alone bringing you comfort in an odd way

- He seemed so nice and respectful, never asking too many questions or making any noise in your shop.

- He just sat down at his usual spot, with a book in hand, sipping on a coffee you made perfectly for him

- The other members teased him about his little crush on you, noticing the way the tall male had grown fond of you

- He never let any of the members accompany him though, telling them that this was his spot, and that he wanted to separate it from the mafia life

- He almost felt ashamed of his crush on you, thinking that you deserve someone better, someone who’s not a criminal mastermind

- Regardless of his will to keep you at a distance for your own good, his need to get to know you was stronger

- He tried to promise himself not to get attached…

- You eventually started sitting next to him at times, chatting about your lives and hobbies.

- You were quick to notice his secrecy, and the way he never went into detail about his life.

- It made you a little sad, but you decided not to ask, not wanting to invade his privacy

- Yunho convinced you that you were working too hard, seeing your dark circles grow as of every day.

- When you tried to tell him the same thing, noticing the way his skin looked paler than usual, he just shrugged you off

- Somehow, word had gotten out that Yunho had a special girl, and when ateez got into a twist with another gang, the opposing gang knew exactly who their target would be…

- One night, when you were just about to get home from work, the glass door was suddenly smashed open, and a group of masked men entered the small cafe.

- You crouched down, trying to hide behind the counter, putting a hand over your mouth as the men’s voices started filling the room

- You felt your legs starting to tremble as your heart beat rapidly in your chest

- A man appeared behind the counter, harshly grabbing you. Your hand was replaced by his, as a gun was pressed to your head

- Your wide eyes scanned the room for any means of escape, but only saw three other men, equally as scary as the man holding a gun to your head

- You couldn’t understand any of this, but soon another man came up to you, eyes staring you down.

- He yelled at you to not move a muscle, and you couldn’t help but obey when a sharp needle was inserted into your arm

- You wanted to squirm. You wanted to scream, but you just couldn’t.

- You felt your eyes start to roll back, as your body grew limp in a matter of seconds.

- And then, everything went black.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

- When Yunho heard your name leave Wooyoung’s mouth, his body immediately became stiff

- “Where. Is. She?” Yunho asked, hand finding the gun in his waistband.

- Yunho was sure he had never felt this type of fear before

- When Wooyoung told him he didn’t know where you were, Yunho grabbed him by the collar, almost lifting his smaller body into the air

- “THEN FIND OUT!” Yunho yelled.

- Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrowed at his partner’s sudden frustration. He had never seen Yunho this angry.

- He knew that you were dear to Yunho, but not like this.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

- You slowly felt your surroundings becoming clear to you as you woke up

- You felt your arms aching, the harsh rope binding them leaving a burn in your skin

- Your eyes fluttered open, revealing the scene in front of you

- You were in a dark room, the only thing giving you a whim of the figures in front of you a small lightbulb hanging from the ceiling

- You felt your breath pick up, making the heads of the men snap towards you in an instant

- You tried to move, your instincts screaming at you to flee the situation

- “Well look who’s finally awake,” one of the men snickered, placing his cards down on the small table he sat by with his three companions.

- You felt your memories come flooding back to you from the night before, reminding you of the traumatic experience you had gone through

- You tried to speak, but a cloth in your mouth stopped you from doing so, only letting muffled sounds escape you

- The men laughed evilly, making you tear up

- Why was this happening to you?

- “What do you say boys, do we keep her alive?” one of them asked, a smirk coating his lips.

- “What would make Jeong more angry? if we kill her? or—“ another man stepped closer to your form, grabbing a fist of your hair. “If we keep her as a toy?”

- You felt tears streaming from your eyes as you squirmed desperately. You didn’t understand any of this, but you could collect that these men were purely evil.

- Just as one of them were about to leave another snarky comment, a small knock was heard from upstairs.

- Their heads perked up at the sound.

- “I’ll go get it,” one of them said, picking up a gun before leaving the basement.

- Your gaze followed him as his big body made its way up to the main floor.

- The other three men averted their attention back to you, and you braced yourself for the humiliation you were about to endure.

- “Keep her alive, she’s young and all,” a man said. You felt sick.

- As they were about to continue their discussion about whether or not you should live, a loud bang was heard from upstairs.

- Everyone tensed up in the room, including you.

- You heard multiple gunshots, and many more male voices filling the room.

- The three men in the basement stood up and grabbed their weapons. You heard the sound of guns being loaded, and couldn’t even keep your eyes opened.

- You were too scared.

- Two of the men ascended the stairs, leaving you with the man who was still holding your hair in his hand.

- “Make a sound and you’re dead,” the man warned you, pushing his gun towards your head once again.

- You breathing quickened more and more as the sounds from upstairs escalated. More gunshots and screams were heard, and they only seemed to get closer.

- The man’s grip on your hair only became tighter when the sound came closer to you. You tried to stifle your small whimpers, but they went unnoticed as they exited you anyway.

- An eerie silence filled the place, making you have to choke down your sounds of fear. Was this really the day your life was going to end? Just when things had started to go your way, everything was going to be ripped from you like this?

- You barely noticed as two men came down the stairs at an unbelievable speed. You clenched your eyes shut, not even wanting to know what was going to happen, but then, the hand in your hair suddenly vanished, same with the gun pressed against your forehead.

- The sound of a gunshot made you flinch, your head lowering in submission, as a way for you to beg for your life.

- “She’s here!” a voice called out, as a man stepped closer to you. From the sound of his voice you would guess he was younger than your kidnappers.

- A hand found your head, making you retreat in fear. You still didn’t dare to look at the man in front of you, but was surprised when the hand gently took out the cloth from your mouth, making you gasp at the sudden access to air.

- Your eyes flew open, taking in the man in front of you. He had pretty long, black hair that illuminated his face well, even in the dim lighting. The man behind him stood with his hands behind his back, as if waiting for an order.

- You heard the sound of footsteps rushing down the stairs, and when you saw the man’s identity, your jaw dropped in disbelief.

- You barely noticed as the dark haired man untied your arms, too focused on the sight of the tall man in front of you.

- Yunho.

- Here he was, a panicked but somewhat relieved look on his handsome face. You let out a breath, not finding any words to say.

- Yunho sighed, a single tear dropping from his cheek.

- “Y/n,” he breathed out before rushing towards you.

- You still felt your eyes staring into nothing as his arms flew around you, his welcoming embrace making you tear up.

- You didn’t care about your questions, all that mattered was that he was here now, and you could finally cry into his warm shoulder.

- “Thank god you’re okay,” he cried. You started sobbing, letting the fear you had had to suppress wash over you.

- “I— I was so scared,” you cried, not caring about the seven men gathered around the two of you. It was like a part of you knew. Knew that you were safe with them.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

- “I never wanted you to get involved in any of this…” Yunho confessed, a hand on his forehead.

- “Well, now I am, okay?” you smiled, giving him a small peck on the cheek

- Ever since that incident, Yunho had hesitantly told you about what he actually does. He was convinced you’d run away from him in fear, but you only nodded slowly as you took in the information.

- Now, here you were, in a relationship with a member of ateez, one of the strongest mafias in town.

- You still thanked Yunho every day for saving you, but he tried to assure you that it was his fault you even ended up in that situation.

- “No, it wasn’t!” you argued, pouting almost. “It’s not your fault that they decided to go after me!” you tried.

- Yunho sighed. “That’s what we do. We don’t play nice,” he tried to explain, but you only shook your head.

- “Whatever, I love you anyway,” you said, plastering a kiss on his lips. Making him smile in a way that made your heart melt.

- “I love you too, baby.”

- The gang had started becoming more of a family to you.

- They all knew you were one of them now, since you were with Yunho.

- You had to admit that the mafia life scared you still, but you were still so lucky to find ateez.

- You had made friends for life, and they were so thankful to have you with them.

- You were like a little happy pill, always making them cheer up when they could only focus on work.

- You loved cooking with Wooyoung, playing games with Yeosang or watching movies with Hongjoong.

- It truly felt like you had found your place, even if it was in a secret underground base with eight mafia members.

Heyyyyyy guys hope you enjoyed this little drabble/oneshot or whatever I should call it. Requests are opennnn!

masterlist

[tarre-was-right]

ROUND ONE: MATCH-UP FOUR

Remember, this is NOT about who would win in a fight. This is about who makes the best leader for Mandalore as a whole.

Explanation post

Seeding

Propaganda below the cut! You can submit more on this post and I will reblog it back to here!

BOBA FETT

Anon: Boba The Builder, can he do it? Boba The Builder, yes he can!

@spacetime1969: He grew up in the political game that is the criminal underworld and managed to out manuver all the other groups on Tatooine to take control of the planet. That's not something you can pull off without political and tactical skill.

Anon: Boba Fett Propaganda: - Boba Fett was explicitly raised by his father, past Mand'alor Jango Fett, to be the legacy of his own adopted buir, Mand'alor Jaster Mereel; while this training did seem to focus more on the bounty hunting and mercenary aspects of their work, it presumably included many lessons about working with people and negotiating, both of which would come in very handy - Boba is commonly held to be a classic example of a child who grew up in a cultural diaspora, feeling largely disconnected from his Mandalorian roots; given the climate on Mandalore after the Galactic Empire glassed it during the Rebellion Era, his experience is likely representative of many of the surviving Mandalorians, who likely also grew up away from their traditional homeworlds in the sector, possibly even in hiding as in the case of Din Djarin's Covert - speaking of Din Djarin, the strong respect between him and Fett would likely put Fett in good standing with those traditionalists, who would similarly respect Fett's connection to their people as the son of a Foundling, even if he wasn't raised the same way as them - in Legends, Fett's connection with Goran Beviin and his family really brought him more fully back into Mandalorian culture, and in a way that makes a good story to sell to reporters (and readers, breaking the fourth wall a bit there, lol) - finally, Boba DID become Mand'alor in Legends continuity, and one that seemingly enjoyed popular support!

Anon: You know what? Boba Fett was given a bad hand in life. He’s done some bad things. But you know what he’s shown? Drive. Commitment. Determination. Resilience. Willpower. And a shocking refusal to die when he’s gone up against bitches badder than himself. Thats more than some Mandalorian leaders can say for themselves. He keeps going. And it’d be funny. Here IS how Jaster can still win. - Also I think that he would be pretty chill. Cody prolly couldnt be. We’ve seen him rule a city, maybe questionably.. but he was hot doing it. Fennec would probably help him and she’s hot too. Din would prolly be good with it. Cody’s last experience ruling was being involved in the empire and witnessing a horrible execution after negotiating a surrender. He prolly wants nothing to do with it now. And good for him! Let!! Cody!!! Retire!!! This isn’t a popularity contest.

Anon: Boba Fett Propaganda: Boba Fett literally was the Mand’alor in legends, and he did a pretty fine job

COMMANDER CODY

Anon: Propaganda for Commander Cody: - Cody was a student of Alpha-17, who in turn had been personally trained by former Mand'alor Jango Fett, giving him a strong training lineage claim to the title - Cody's service as Marshall Commander in the GAR gave him a lot of the diplomatic, organizational, and military experience needed to govern a planet like Mandalore

@spacetime1969: This man has led more people at once than anyone on this list.

Anon: Cody should be Mand'alor because it would be unspeakably sexy

@cha0s-cat: Cody has experience with negotiating from accompanying Obi-Wan, he leads a massive amount of his brothers already. Can recognize when there is a need for negotiations vs a need for violence. This would balance out the majority of the two factions (pacifists/traditionalists) excluding the extremists on either end. And with the amount of chaos that he has to deal with when it comes to Obi-Wan and Anakin, this would probably be relaxing.

@skykind: - Has resisted facism and its attendant police/military state at great personal risk (Bad Batch 2.3), which is apparently necessary to successfully govern Mandalore so long as Death Watch is fully armed and also backed by someone more cunning than their usual leadership (Clone Wars 5.15). - Possesses exceptional leadership and organizational ability from his time as one of the highest-ranked Clone officers of the GAR. The Clone Wars and Bad Batch narratives furthermore present him as Obi-Wan’s peer, so he should be interpreted as equally skilled, wise, kind, and unhinged-in-battle as Obi-Wan. Jury’s out on the sarcasm. - Turns to diplomacy before fighting (Bad Batch 2.3). - Has caught a Jedi’s lightsaber mid-battle at least two times (Clone Wars 1.20 and Revenge of the Sith). This is a very useful skill to have as the prospective or current leader of people who keep chucking the darksaber about. - Has returned a lightsaber to a Jedi at least two times. This is a crucial skill to have as the prospective or current leader of people who should stop selecting said leader via darksaber acquisition.

[scorpihoe1111]

💔Chiron In the Houses💔-Part 2

Chiron in the 8H👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 TW: S*xual Content

People with this placement could struggle with themes regarding sex/sexual health. This could be somebody who’s had a bad experience with sex, such as being used/manipulated into it, made to feel shamed or guilty for having it and/or (TW: SA) sexually harassed/assaulted. I’ve also noticed people with this placement may have grew up with a very conservative family who had strict views of sex, so the individual is hard on themselves or feel almost guilty for having it or interacting in sexual things. This placement could also struggle with contracting STD’s, or having overall genital/uterus health problems often in their life. I also noticed that people like this are drawn to the occult early on in their life, and something happens that traumatizes them and ruins their outlook on it. A VERY common placement I’ve seen with people who dabbled in witchcraft and it backfired or someone who consistently goes to witch doctors/psychics/mediums and depends on these people. Also, something about the mother with this placement as well. This placement is also seen in people who have been permanently scarred by the death of someone or a near death experience themselves. The idea of death in general haunts this native and they usually refuse to accept it as a part of life. They could have paranoia of those around them dying and leaving them, or them dying themselves. The mother could have passed early on, and/or the mother could have been abusive or overly possessive and controlling of the Chiron person. Could also indicate someone who went through financial abuse as well, such as a mother or other feminine figures in their life being stingy with money that was owed to the Chiron person, or stealing Chiron’s actual money from them. This placement usually has a hard time getting along with the women in their family or women in general.

Chiron In the 9H🌍

Chiron here is one of the placements I sympathize with the most tbh. These people could have grown up in a strictly religious environment and may have had religion forced upon them from an early age. This person could have went through something that traumatized them in regards to church, church goers, pastors or religion altogether. They could have had really negative experiences or mistreatment from those in the church who were supposedly supposed to be good people they can trust. Could have been gossiped about, judged for their interests/personality/looks, or sexually abused as well by those in the religious group. These people are very conflicted when it comes to religion, usually choosing to be atheists/switching religions as they grow up in order to find one that doesn’t hold them back from what they wanna do or who they wanna be. This could also be someone who had extremely controlling parents who prevented them from developing, growing or having their own free will. This was someone who always had to obey their parents even when parents were wrong. Somebody who didn’t have the freedom to do fun or normal things everyone else in their age group may have got to do. These people are deeply traumatized by a lack of freedom and being controlled and refuse to go through that again in their future relationships. These people start to rebel in their teens/early 20’s, and once they’re free they become their own boss; however because they were sheltered so much they could be still naive and overdo their new freedom to the point of getting themselves in legal trouble or creating baggage in their personal lives. These people could have a lack of responsibility and self control and end up in debt, jail, a criminal charge, unwanted kids, addictions etc.

Chiron In the 10H👨🏻‍💼

Those with Chiron in the 10H could be sensitive about their reputation. This is a placement that has been judged and gossiped about mercilessly in regards to their character. These people may have done something scandalous within their life, or they may have made a mistake that many people throughout their lives have done but get heat for it way harder than others. This placement is usually found in those who care about their reputation and image more than anything else. They put how others see them and think/talk about them on the forefront of their lives. These people unfortunately can also be yes-men, or people pleasers due to wanting to receive validation from others at any cost. These people could have been well known and placed on a pedestal at some point in their lives which is why they usually tend to get gossiped about so much, or on the flip side this person does not get the recognition or acknowledgment they think they’re owed and this can lead to them feeling like they failed at life. I usually see this placement as one that’s money hungry or honestly an attention whore in most scenarios, since I’ve mainly seen those with this placement live for approval and validation even from those they don’t even know. These people could have grown up as an only child or favorite child, and parents could have exaggerated their talents and worth to the point they grew almost narcissistic and convinced they’re owed something from everyone. Obviously, this can have bad consequences as one steps out into the real world and this placement could be humbled quickly leading to their failure feeling of not being #1 in everything. Another scenario I see is those with this placement who have been involuntarily placed on a pedestal, to where each and every one of their actions, goals and mistakes reflected on their reputations heavily. In this case, this placement could have been severely judged/bullied in their youth, and/or had something happen to them or did something that they became known for and unfairly held against them. It’s important for this placement to heal in both scenarios, as if they’re unhealed this trauma can lead to excessive insecurity, co-dependence, anger and very low self esteem. This person needs to learn to live in their authenticity and honestly just stop giving a fuck what others think or say.

Chiron In the 11H👩🏻‍💻

These placement could have suffered from bullying online or in social groups. Definitely a black sheep placement, they’ve probably went through excessive outcasting or rejection in their early years from people their age. These are people who were probably loners in school, or simply didn’t know how to make friends. Many people weren’t nice to this native, and they might have always felt like the odd one out in any friend groups they have been in. This placement honestly gives me Janice Ian vibes. That 1 outcast that becomes friends with cruel people, and ends up being vulnerable to the wrong people. They could have been the target of bullying, subject of gossip etc. They may have had friends who were intimidated of them, and friends could have projected HEAVILY on them. These people could also be naive and easily influenced, usually ending up in the wrong crowd or friend group and trusting the wrong people due to desperation of needing to fit in. These people have a hard time being accepted within society as they may be different from most people, or have interests that are considered weird among peers. They could also be subject to online harassment and bullying as well, being the main target of being harassed by fake/anonymous accounts, secrets leaked online, personal information leaked online, posting something that the internet community may not approve of and attack the Chiron person for; etc.

Chiron In the 12H💤

This placement is really interesting for me, I think because I had to do extensive studying and research as well as trying to find people with this placement in order to really figure it out since it’s such a complicated placement. From what I’ve learned so far, those with this placement may have grew up with sleep paralysis and/or horrifying nightmares growing up. These are people that had an imaginary friend growing up. They’re very in touch with their spiritual side whether they want to be or not. These people could be scarred by the things they’ve seen in their dreams, or may have lived in homes that were possibly haunted and may have trauma in regards to things that may have happened in those homes. These people are usually deeply afraid of the paranormal, because of some type of experience they may have had when young. In another sense, I’ve also noticed that these people may have been isolated throughout their life a lot and felt very alone. They may have or still struggle with mental health/illness’s. These people could also be deathly afraid of random things, such as fire, insects, heights etc. with no personal reason as to why, it just provokes something in them. This is because those with this placement have TONS of past life trauma that needs to be healed. The sad thing about this placement is that it feels vulnerable and unsafe to things bigger than life, such as a higher power etc. They could be afraid of the paranormal, God, the Devil, Demons, Angels, ghosts etc. These are very sensitive to others spirits as well. These people often experience a deep, overwhelming sadness and pain without knowing their root cause. They feel uncomfortable and hate that the world is a negative place. Sometimes they might feel like there’s an invisible wall holding them back from reaching their full potential. In a way, this placement could feel almost as if they’re being punished by these higher powers I was talking about. Like their mind and overall future is being destroyed and blocked by something bigger than us, and they have no control over it. Overall, I feel like this placement wants to be safe. I feel like this placement doesn’t feel safe or comfortable in the world in general, which is why this placement is one of the very special ones for me. I truly think they are angels sent down from earth. I also feel it’s important that this placement heals deeply, and finds themselves a higher power that brings them comfort. I deeply feel this placement may need religion or spiritually to reach their full potential and happiness, as they seem to be so connected to the divine it’s best to confront their fears and accept the calling they’re overthinking about.

[queerasfact]

Uncle Jack Charles

“...there are many Aboriginal people who are gay, both men and women, and ... we’re so proud we’ve made our mark and stamped our ground. ... us gay and Indigenous mob, we’re fringe dwellers twice over, and that’s what gives us great strength.”

Bunurong and Wiradjuri man Uncle Jack Charles was taken from his mother at just four months old as part of the Australian government policy of forcibly assimilating Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children. These children are now known as the Stolen Generation.

Raised in a Salvation Army boys’ home, and then by a white foster family, Jack grew up believing he was an orphan, and had no idea he was Aboriginal until he was 17. When he left his foster home at 17 to seek out his birth family, his foster mother called the police. When Jack was finally able to connect with his family, he described himself as being born again in his Aboriginality.

Uncle Jack had his first acting role at 17, in a community production of African-American playwright Lorraine Hansberry’s Raisin in the Sun. He went on the become a stalwart of Indigenous theatre in Australia, and in 1971, co-founded the country’s first Indigenous theatre group, Nindethana, which achieved international acclaim.

Throughout his life, Uncle Jack dealt with homelessness and heroin addiction, and spent time in jail for theft. As a burglar, he deliberated targeted wealthy Melbourne neighbourhoods, saying later "I robbed as rent collection for stolen Aboriginal land!"

Having experienced the prison system himself, Uncle Jack became a tireless advocate for young incarcerated men, especially Indigenous men. In 2010, he starred in a one-man show called Jack Charlves v The Crown, where he explored his life, and his struggles with a government bureaucracy that said a man with a criminal record couldn’t be allowed to mentor prisoners.

Uncle Jack was openly gay, although romance was never a big part of his life. He described giving the Welcome to Country at Melbourne’s pride event, Midsumma, as one of his most cherished duties.

Uncle Jack passed away on 13 September 2022.

Keep an eye on this blog throughout the week as we continue highlighting queer Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander history and culture for NAIDOC Week.

[Image: Uncle Jack holding his record Son of Mine]

[gay-dorito-dust]

Heres an idea what if ford and his infant baby BOTH got sucked into the portal? How would ford cope with jumping across the multiverse while trying to raise his child?

I’m going to assume the reader is the baby, so this fic is obviously platonic from here on out.

The man gets grey stress hairs at like 23/25 (no clue how old he is when he got sucked into the portal but I’m going to assume for this)

Ford didn’t mind if it was just him that got pulled into the multiverse, he would’ve found a way to handle it but being in a multiverse full of potential dangers with you, his child? The man is doing everything he can to set you up to survive and one day escape the multiverse and go home, regardless if it’s with or without him.

Ford is putting you first and foremost as you were the future, his legacy and his protege.

It was a daunting task to not only try and survive the multiverse but also dedicate time to raising his own kid, it was taxing on both an emotional and physical level for Ford as he made sure you were kept warm and well fed as possible while leaning himself with little to nothing, but he didn’t mind because as long as you had everything you needed to grow and be strong, that’s all that matters to Ford.

You grew up traveling with bandits, learning to speak 13 languages, read ancient texts, become royalty when Ford was king of the finger dimension for a brief period of time, only for a seven fingered man to take the crown and becoming a wanted criminal in multiple dimensions before you were even twelve. Your childhood was far from a normal one as your memories of home were mainly from stories Ford told you about at night when you were both sat near the fire.

It saddened Ford to know that you viewed home a lot differently than you did the multiverse but he couldn’t blame you. You had near enough spent most of your developmental years running from dimension to dimension, aiding rebellions and surviving say to say that if you both were to ever get home, Ford knew you’d be out of your element as all you’ve ever known was the multiverse and him.

This thought occurred to Ford on many occasions that he blames himself for ever letting you get dragged into this mess because if you didn’t then maybe you could’ve grown up with Stanley and lived a perfectly normal life. You were robbed of a childhood you could look back on in fondness and Ford couldn’t help but believe himself to be the cause as he stays up to watch over you, seeing his child mentally grow up faster then you should be allowed for your age broke his aging heart.

Would you be ridiculed for being weird if you were to ever go home much like he was as a kid? If so then he’d much rather stay in the multiverse for your sake rather than his own.

You had been through a lot and seen more then a child your age should and while Ford will forever be proud of the person you had become. His only wish was that you got to at least experience a portion of your life back home before all this, just so that you didn’t look at everything so weirdly and so alien.

Ford knew that sometimes there will be moments where there’s a disconnect between you two, something he had to accept that as the truth instead of trying to logically fix it, and instead try to meet you halfway in a comforting manner when you start to think that you were too weird for home as you sat on the rooftop of the shack.

‘Won’t Mabel and dipper find me…odd?’ You asked.

‘No of course not sweetheart, they love you and see you as their cool older relative they can trust to keep them safe and happy and seen.’ Ford reassured you with a pat on the shoulder before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. ‘You’ll be loved, so loved my little sharpshooter. I promise.’ He adds as he sees you yawn and instinctively brought you into his side, once again watching over you as you slept peacefully for the first time in a long while.

While Ford hated that you had practically been raised in the multiverse but he couldn’t help but be proud of who you’ve become when you pointed out a flaw in his plans for the quantum destabiliser weapon that he had overlooked. You were going to be okay, Ford knew it.

[solarrsims]

greek mythology legacy challenge

hi loves. i’ve spent so much time trying to find a legacy challenge that interests me, and i stumbled upon this one on the forums. however, i decided to put my own spin on this theme, and create my own goals and rules. use the hashtag #greek mythology legacy so i can see your gameplays!!

also, feel free to bend the rules to your liking. if you don’t have a pack i mention, you can bend that rule, or you do have a pack that i don’t have that you think would fit, you can add that in however you’d like.

gens/rules down below or in this doc

edits because of @nom-de-plumbob her ideas were so much better than my og ones!

overall rules:

- you may only use free real estate cheats when you first start

- you can only move onto the next generation when you’ve completed all of the goals

- i recommend setting your life span to normal or long

- you can use any gender for any generation!

- you don’t have to actually name them the god’s name if you don’t want to. be creative!

- try to use their assigned colors in some way (clothes, hair, skin, house, etc!)

GENERATION ONE: ZEUS

god of the sky, king of the gods - white

you have had a rough childhood. your father was abusive towards you and your mother, which resulted in your mother taking you and fleeing town. the two of you settled down the snowy mountains in mt. komebri. she became very over protective of you, rarely letting you out and about in case your father ever found you.

traits: non-committal, ambitious, charismatic

aspiration: successful lineage

career: politician (politician branch)

goals:

have a weather machine

max out career

marry and have two biological kids with partner

have many affairs

have 3 other kids with different partners

live in mt. komebri

GENERATION TWO: POSIEDON

god of water, the ocean - blue

you grew up in a very competitive household. your father was a well-known and very competitive politician whom had many different affairs. you eventually grew restless of the competitive life and decided to move for a simpler life—sulani.

traits: child of the ocean, loves outdoors, erratic

aspiration: beach life

career: marine biologist

goals:

move to sulani when turn young adult

become a mermaid

discover rare underwater treasures

try to keep sulani clean

advocate for marine conservation

marry someone you meet on the island

have at least one kid with partner

GENERATION THREE: HERA

goddess of marriage, women - purple

this sim grew up living a very calm and collected life by the beach. as a child, they loved watching movies and love, which grew into a passion for acting. so, you fled the beachy town and went to del sol valley to achieve your dreams.

traits: ambitious, romantic, jealous

aspiration: world-renowned actor

career: actor

goals:

become a famous actor

marry a celebrity

get jealous and become a controlling spouse

live in del sol valley

have more than one kid

you should favor your other children over the youngest, whom will be the next heir

GENERATION FOUR: HADES

god of the underworld - black

you’ve always despised their mother as a child. your mother favored your sibling(s) your whole life, and always saw you as a disappointment and not being able to live up to your older siblings. because of this, you decided to go on your own, and live up to being a criminal.

traits: loner, materialistic, gloomy

aspiration: criminal mastermind

career: criminal

goals:

max out aspiration

reach level 10 in mischief skill

become enemies with 5 people

have only one child, and don’t be close with them

GENERATION FIVE: ARES

god of war - red

this sim grew up in a rocky household. you’ve always had a strong sense of patriotism and bravery, and you’ve always dreamt of going into the military. despite not wanting to follow in your father’s footsteps, you still have.

traits: athletic, hot-headed, ambitious

aspirations: athlete

career: military (officer branch)

goals:

achieve level 10 in the fitness skill.

start at least 5 fights with different sims

reach level 10 in the officer branch

have at least 2 children

GENERATION SIX: ATHENA

the goddess of wisdom - silver

you grew up in a very competitive household. you were definitely the outcast child, as you prefer to read books or play chess instead of working out. you move out when you become a young adult with little funds.

traits: genius, bookworm, perfectionist

aspiration: nerd brain

career: scientist

goals:

achieve level 10 in three different skills.

complete the nerd brain aspiration.

reach level 10 of scientist career

eventually travel to alien world with wormhole generator

if you have discover university: get physics degree

GENERATION SEVEN: APOLLO

the god of sun, light - orange

you grew up in a very close and loving family. growing up in an environment that fostered creativity and intellect, your mother always encouraged you with your talent: music. your mother’s guidance not only nurtured your musical talent but also instilled a thrust of knowledge and an understanding of music.

traits: art lover, outgoing, music lover

aspiration: musical genius

career: entertainer (singer or musician)

goals:

start playing instruments as a kid

listen to music often as a toddler

achieve level 10 in the singing/one instrument, and level 5 in the other instruments

complete musical genius aspiration

play on the street or at bars for money

if you have discover university: get the fine arts degree

become a famous singer or musician by writing songs and licensing them

marry someone who has the music lover or art lover trait

GENERATION EIGHT APHRODITE

the goddess of beauty, love - pink

from a young age, you found yourself entangled in the intricate dance of romance, captivated by the myriad emotions that love invoked. however, your journey was not without heartbreak. you, in pursuit of love’s beauty, experienced the shattering pain of a broken heart multiple times. yet, with each fracture, you discovered an unparalleled strength to mend.

traits: romantic, high maintenance, party animal

aspiration: serial romantic

career: fashion influencer (stylist branch) or social media influencer (internet personality)

goals:

have at least 10 romantic relationships in your life, starting as a teen

reach level 10 in charisma

as a teen, get the party animal trait

go to parties often as a teen/university student

reach level 10 in either career branch

achieve serial romantic aspiration

have children only from one night stands or blind dates

GENERATION NINE: HERMES

god of trade, travel - brown

your mother never really paid much attention to you and your siblings growing up. you lacked the guidance you needed, leaving you and your siblings to fend for themselves. your nasty habit of kleptomania started as a teen, from stealing your mom’s stuff to stealing items from public places.

traits: active, kleptomaniac, you pick

aspiration: friend of the world

career: astronaut (interstellar smuggler branch)

goals:

live in at least 5 different worlds throughout your life once you become a young adult

reach level 10 of astronaut career (interstellar smuggler branch)

attempt to swipe at least one item per day (or every other day)

befriend at least 15 sims from various ages

marry a co-worker

have only one child

GENERATION TEN: ARTEMIS

goddess of hunt - yellow

your days as a child were spent in the outdoors whilst your parents worked, and you have lived in multiple different towns. once you moved out, you decided to built a house on an empty lot with a small farm. your farm began to flourish, and you hound solace in the tranquil landscapes, surrounded by your family and your animal companions.

traits: loner, family-oriented, animal enthusiast

aspiration: friend of the animals

career: veterinarian

goals:

own your own vet clinic

as a child, befriend at least 5 animal

have at least 3 pets!

achieve level 10 in the dog training

you may never marry. either adopt or have a science baby only once.

OPTIONAL GENERATIONS: TBF

GENERATION ELEVEN: HESTIA

GENERATION TWELVE: DEMETER