#despite the horrors (five days in with no one attacking me)

[recallback-art]

Mentioned I was doing artfight this year, and I still am, I'm trucking through. I've done an attack a day on average.

This attack is for Fawnziez on Artfight of Fawn's malware OC, Ally! Love the vibes of this beast, very fun to draw.

[januaryembrs]

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

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

Word length: 20k

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

previous chpt | next chpt

‘so sweet with a mean streak

nearly brought me to my knees.’

The one where he tries flirting

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His heart swelled in his chest. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Attracted. Interested. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2. The one where he nearly dies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ prayed, and prayed, and prayed. 

–

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

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

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

She could hear her mother laughing at her now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She gagged, filled with memories of her birthday. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. The one at Haley’s funeral

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wrung her hands guiltily, “Sorry,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4. The one with his new hair

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

He was hoping she liked it. 

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

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

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

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

Definitely not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He felt the headache coming already. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He only cared about what she thought of him. 

Only cared what her face looked like-

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bugsy thought she might be sick. 

“Garcia,” 

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

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

Get that bitch. 

Show her a good time. 

Teach the pigs a lesson for sticking their nose in. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His audience including the team. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shook his head instantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swore his face went crimson in a single second.

5. The one with his migraines

“Let me pay for your fuel at least,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+1 The one with the eulogy.

This was hell on earth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t see her getting through this alive. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it. 

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t say he blamed her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew then.

–

TAGLIST

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

[whumpthemusical]

Whump: The Musical Prompts!!

As stated before, this challenge will run from March 1- March 31, 2024. All fandoms are welcome to participate despite it being prompts based off of musicals. Once again, all types of media are allowed. This challenge has the standard "choose one for the day" style, but feel free to do all three prompts if that's what you want to do!! All types of whump are allowed, but please be respectful to your fellow audience members and properly tag it!! Some of these prompts are sensitive, so make sure you warn your readers correctly! There will be an ao3 collection and an FAQ post coming soon, so if you have any further questions or comments about this challenge, feel free to drop me a line. Happy writing, my beautiful ingénues, and enjoy the show :)))

The prompts will be listed under the cut for those who have difficulty reading fonts!!

Cats- Sabotage • Second Chances • "I Can Dream Of The Old Days."

Wicked- Mob Mentality • Propaganda • "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished."

Jesus Christ Superstar- Whipping • Betrayal • "Then I Was Inspired, Now I'm Sad And Tired."

Les Mis- Survivor's Guilt • Failure • "Drink With Me To Days Gone By."

Heathers- Poison • Reluctant Whumper • "Wanna fight for me?"

Newsies- Chronic Pain • Exploitation • "Let 'Em Laugh In My Face, I Don't Care."

The Last Five Years- Infidelity • Gaslighting • "I Will Not Lose Because You Can't WIn."

Hadestown- Deals • Doomed Narrative • "Doubt Comes In."

Sweeney Todd- False Imprisonment • Razors • "Have You Decided It's Safer In Cages?"

Rent- Substance Abuse • Poverty • "Feels Too Much Damn Like Home."

Bare: A Pop Opera- Outing • Religious Trauma • "Please, See Me."

Waitress- Unplanned Pregnancy • Abuse • "She Is Broken And Won't Ask For Help."

Tick Tick Boom- Atychiphobia • Working To Exhaustion • "Is This Real Life?"

Dear Evan Hansen- Deception • Broken Bone • "Words Fail."

West Side Story- Star-Crossed Lovers • Prejudices • "A Boy Who Kills Cannot Love."

Come From Away- Stranded • Aftermath • "Blankets And Bedding And Maybe Some Food."

Spring Awakening- Withheld Information • Suicide  • "I Don't Scream, Though I Know It's Wrong."

Hamilton- Hurricane  • Dueling • "I Will Kill Your Friends And Family To Remind You Of My Love."

Falsettos- Sickness • Identity Issues • "Death Is Not A Friend."

Into The Woods- Blame • Lost • "Nothing But A Vast Midnight."

The Great Comet- Abduction • Letters • "Did You Love That Bad Man?"

In The Heights- Grief • Homesickness • "I Know That I'm Letting You Down."

Be More Chill- Mind Manipulation • Panic Attack • "Everything About Me Makes Me Want To Die."

Moulin Rouge- Class Differences • Sex Work • "Come What May."

Chicago- Cold Blood • Trial • "He Had It Coming."

Six- Execution • Trauma Bonding • "Playtime's Over."

Ride The Cyclone- Unexpected Tragedy • Forgotten Whumpee • "I Hear The Anguish Of The Street."

The Rocky Horror Show- Obsession • Wrong Place, Wrong Time • "I've Seen Blue Skies Through The Tears."

Nerdy Prudes Must Die- Bullying • Ritual • "Who Will Pray For You?"

Jekyll And Hyde- Duality • Good Vs Evil • "If I Die, You'll Die."

Phantom Of The Opera- Disfiguration • Shunned • "My Power Over You Grows Stronger Yet."

[ponderingmoonlight]

hi, <3

I've been working for a week now, so I don't have time to send you ideas, but there are SO MANY in my head.😭😭😭 I do not know what to do!!!I think you've already guessed that I'm in love with Nanami's dad!! He's so cute as the father figure.Imagine that Kento and his wife had their first child (a girl) and when Kento comes home to his daughter and wife, he sees that his daughter is wearing a small bodysuit with the text “I love daddy” and Nanami just looks and is touched. DADNANAMIDADNANAMIDADNANAMI🤤🫦

Okay I cried my eyes out while writing this and the cover sent me over the edge 😭 But THANK YOU SO MUCH for that precious request my love, let me know what you think <3

Nanami's reaction to his daughter wearing a jumper saying "I love daddy"

Pairing: Nanami x wife!reader; Nanami x fem!daughter

Word Count: 1,3k

Synopsis: After the incidents of Shibuya and his wife getting severely injured, Nanami is relieved to know his new family safe and sound. A little suprise from his precious wife seems to be enough to make a grown man cry in joy though...

Warnings: cuteness overload, this had me balling in the best way, might be the comfort you need this is canon

This is like a spin-off to the "Haruta seeking revenge on Nanami's heavy pregnant wife" fic - just click on it to read it first!

To say the last few months were a trip to heaven and hell at the same time would be an understatement. Despite the horror the Shibuya incident caused, even though the attack of Haruta left both you and your precious baby to risk, you somehow made it all out alive. Kento, you and the little angel of daughter you gave birth to exactly one month after Shibuya.

“I’ll leave in five minutes, regardless of what you have to tell me afterwards”, he sends towards the man in front of him who is asking him for the hundredth time about the Shibuya incident.

Finally, this way too long day is over. A day without seeing you the whole time, a day without his little one by his side. Due to the fact that delivering your baby girl was rather difficult after the severe wound wasn’t healed yet, Shoko prescribed strict bed rest for you within the next few months. You are barely able to stand up on your own, let alone go to the toilet. Most of the time you lay on the couch with your daughter by your side, watching your favourite show on TV until you greet him with the brightest of smiles.

But even though every minor step causes you visible pain and it’s hard for you to be on your own, you insisted on him continuing doing his job. After all, somebody has to take care of poor Yuji when you’re not around. And since Gojo is gone, whole Jujutsu High seems to be an endless mess. Yes, somehow you did eventually convince him of leaving you every single morning. Even though he hates letting go of you after what happened not long ago.

“I will leave now”, he announces before grabbing his suitcase and walking away without waiting for an answer.

In the meantime, it’s hard for you to sit still.

“Come on angel, please hold still for a second. We just need leg number one, leg number two, and…There you go!”

Your eyes almost overflow with joy, just staring at the tiny jumper your daughter wears makes you feel emotional all over again. Kento worked so much these last weeks, making sure that especially Yuji feels better after all those things that happened to him during Shibuya. And the fact that you’ve got severely injured…You’ll never forget the look of horror on his face when you collapsed into his arms, Shoko making it just in time before everything went black. For the split of a second you thought everything is over, that this will be the last time you’ve seen your husband. Oh, how you begged Shoko to save the life of your unborn child instead of yours, how you held onto Kento’s hand for dear life.

But seeing that bundle of joy laying in front of you, giggling happily while kicking her tiny feet in her brand-new jumper…You have to read the words all over again, the simple writing that says “I love daddy”. You were mindlessly scrolling through baby stuff when it caught your attention, thinking about how your beloved husband would react to it. There was absolutely no way out of ordering it.

“Daddy will love to see you in this.”

Just the thought of how Kento will react makes you kick your feet too, smiling down at your giggling daughter. Even though every little movement sends a wave of pain through your entire body, you try to stay as positive as possible. The discomfort will go away eventually, but the joy Kento has gifted you with will stay forever.

You can sense him before he put the key into the lock right away, heart pounding so hard that it feels like jumping out of your body.

“This is out time angel”, you whisper into your daughter’s tiny ear before sitting up and staring at the door in sheer excitement.

Nanami’s heart skips a beat when seeing you, looking so adorable dressed in his way too big t-shirt and sweatpants.

“What are you smiling about, sweetheart?”

The second he lays his eyes on your flawless face decorated with that breath-taking smile, he is lost all over again. But by now it’s not only you who awaits him. No, next to you curled up on the couch lays the little bundle of joy that makes his happiness complete.

“I’m just so glad your back! How-ah…”

A minor groan escapes your lips as you try to sit up straight, Kento instantly rushing to your side.

“Hey, think about what Shoko said. No need to rush, we have the whole evening for ourselves, darling”, he gently speaks out, his hands caressing your back moderately.

He hasn’t seen it yet, the blanket on top of your daughter hiding the jumper very well from him. But you can’t contain your excitement any longer. For a moment, you’ll have to put your aching aside.

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to show you…”

Your husband tilts his head to the side, a tender smile creeping up his face before he can stop it. You look so utterly excited that he can’t help but wonder what you mean.

“I wonder what leaves you this excited.”

“Well, there aren’t many things apart from you that get me excited”, you reply with a sly grin.

“But maybe you should take a closer look at your daughter.”

Your heartbeat picks up even more as soon as he looks at your precious little angel, hand gently brushing over her tiny cheek. Slowly, he lifts her off the couch, blanket falling down and revealing her new jumper. You hold your breath, your husband’s eyes locked onto her body.

“I love daddy”, he reads out loud.

His smile widens, eyes turning glossy in pure admiration. Oh, how much he adores you, how much he loves you in every single way. Why does he suddenly turn this emotional? Why does the sheer sight of his daughter with a jumper saying “I love daddy” make him tear up? The last months were so rough on him, it was never granted that he’ll be able to hold his daughter like this while you sit next to him. For a few horrible seconds, he thought he lost you both.

But now you’re here. And you really think that he’s a good dad.

“Words can’t express how much that means to me…”, he mumbles, pressing his daughter against his chest and closing his eyes.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to make you cry love”, you instantly reply while getting up from the couch way too quickly.

Your husband catches you just in time before you fall back onto the couch, his free hand wrapped tightly around your waist while his daughter rests against his shoulder.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me, (y/n). And to top it all off, you gifted me this beautiful daughter. You are so strong, I am so proud of everything you have done these last few months.”

His words his you in your feelings with full force. Despite the fact that you are a strong and composed woman, tears start to stream down your face like a waterfall while your gaze never leaves his. God, how much you love that man, how thankful you are for the fact that he survived. And for the bundle of joy that rests against his shoulder. You never thought your life would turn out like this, eventually. A snack of a husband holding you tightly in one hand while carrying your daughter with the other.

“I love you, Kento Nanami. That jumper says nothing but the truth”, you hush lightly.

Oh, Kento will definitely make sure of that.

“I love you too, sweetheart. And you, my little angel.”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez

[archangeldyke-all]

Okay first time I regust something.

So the principal call Sev and reader to the office cause little fucker have been in a fight. Cause she defended herself for a bully(like she taught, come on she’s Sevs daughter)

The bully has been bullying her. She ignores it but when the bully does anything to her friends BOOM

LOVE THIS

men and minors dni

you pull up to your daughter's school in a panic, your eyes frantically searching the parking lot for your wife.

sevika's smoking on a bench waiting for you: a habit she's managed to kick unless she's really worried. and she only gets really worried about you and little fucker.

"hi baby" you say as you approach her, wrapping her up in a quick hug.

she tries to hide her cigarette, flicking it away from her body and fanning the air around her. you snort and kiss her head as she hugs you back.

"how's your day goin'?" she asks, taking your hand and walking the two of you toward the school. you scoff.

"was goin' good until i got this call. you?"

"was actually pretty shit. i was sorta glad i had a reason to leave work, until the secretary told me the little shit's bleeding." sevika sighs. you cringe.

your daughter's been having some issues with a girl in her class, a little asshole who seems to think your daughter is an easy target.

your sweet little girl-- despite the fact that sevika's been teaching her self defense and mma since she could walk-- has never done anything to escalate the situations. she just takes the abuse and comes home with tears in her eyes, crying in your or sevika's chest about the stupid little shit who's been terrorizing her.

you've had to talk sevika out of killing the ten year old about five times this month.

but now, as you push into the principal's office and your eyes land on your baby-- her eye swollen shut, her bottom lip puffy and bleeding, her nose broken-- you think tonight sevika might have to be the one holding you back from child-murder.

"oh, baby." sevika whispers. you can hear her heart breaking in her voice. she approaches your daughter carefully, kneeling down in front of the kid and cupping her cheek. "fuck, kid, are you okay?"

your little girl bursts into tears. your heart breaks.

sevika takes a seat beside your daughter, holding her and cooing at her as she pets her hair and lets her cry into her chest. you press a quick kiss to little fucker's head, then turn your angry glare on the principal, sitting in the middle of the room.

"what the fuck happened?" you growl. the old man sighs.

"your daughter attacked her classmate natasha on the playground." he says.

"that stupid bitch natasha's been pushing my kid around for weeks. and if i recall correctly, you did nothing about it 'cause natasha's parents are big donors." you growl, your fingers clenching into fists at your side.

"ma'am, verbal taunts are different from physical violence."

"did you beat her ass, baby?" sevika's voice cuts in. you chuckle as you watch the principal's face fall in horror, and then look over to your family to watch your daughter nod against sevika's shoulder.

"knocked her front teeth out." she mumbles. you burst into laughter, and sevika ruffles her hair.

"atta girl." she praises.

"ladies, please, we can't encourage this kind of behavior in response to some light teasing--"

"it wasn't light teasing, mr. rolla. she was bothering little jamie, the kid with the crutches in my class. kept kicking his crutches out from under him, so i kicked her feet out from under her. see how she'd like it." she grumbles.

you can't contain your smile. sevika can't either. mr. rolla seems appalled.

"so what are you doing to this natasha kid?" you ask the man. he gawks at you.

"n-nothing! natasha is currently at home nursing her injuries, i think she's suffered enough!"

"listen here you piece of sh--"

"sev." you cut your wife off with a hand, and she huffs. your kid giggles a little, and you wink at her before turning your attention back to the principal in front of you. "what's her punishment?" you ask. he sighs.

"suspension for rest of the week."

you shake your head, scoff, then turn your back to the man.

"well kid, looks like you got a week vacation!" you say to your girl. she smiles at you.

"ma'am, it's not a vacation it's meant to be a punis--"

"maybe me and ma'll take work off-- we can have a family week vacation." sevika suggests. your daughter's eyes grow wide, and you grin.

"i like the sound of that, babe, good thinking." you say. "i think we should get ice cream for lunch today, too. something cold to help that swollen lip of yours." you say.

little fucker bursts into giggles, and sevika grins, hoisting your girl up to carry her on her hip, then walking out of the office. you turn to follow them, but stop before you can fully leave, turning around and glaring at the flabbergasted principal sitting in his desk.

"you know mr. rolla, i know that big donors are essential for the school's livelihood, i get why you're goin' so easy on natasha. but... i also know that you and old ms. washington have been hooking up on the regular. and... i happen to know that mrs. rolla gets her hair done on that salon off 54th? on the first of the month, right? it would be a shame if she were to get a visitor at her next hair appointment with some bad news..."

the man in front of you goes deathly pale, and you giggle, turn on your heel, and leave the office.

outside, sevika and your girl are giggling with one another as they wait for you. when the three of you start your trek back outside, sevika grabs your hand and shoots you a questioning look. you giggle, then lean in to whisper in her ear.

"may or may not have threatened to ruin his marriage."

sevika grins, looks both ways down the school hallway, then pulls you into a wet, sloppy kiss. you moan against her lips, and her hand trails down to squeeze your ass.

"moms, stop! you're embarrassing me!" your daughter whines.

you and sevika pull apart with guilty chuckles, then continue to walk your kid out of the building and toward the nearest ice cream shop.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

[sp0o0kylights]

“Oh god it’s covered in hearts.” Gareth says, staring horrified at the stage that’s been set up in the cafeteria. Grant and Jeff stand next to him, eyeing the abomination of glitter, paper, and tinsel that’s been shaped into pink and red hearts with a microphone standing proud in the middle.

Several of Hawkin’s jocks are standing to the side, talking amongst themselves, but worse is the crowd of students accumulating in front of the stage.

“You don’t think they’re gonna serenade us for Valentine's Day, do you?” Jeff asks in a similar tone of horror.

Grant makes a disgusted face at the very thought.

“It’s about time they gave me my own mic!” Eddie cackles, slamming his hands down on Gareth and Jeff’s shoulders for leverage, jumping up for a better look (Grant smartly ducked away before his friend can crawl all over him too), “I’ve only been going on about the capitalistic horrors of Valentine's Day since middle school!”

They groan in unison..

Eddie’s got a look on his face that says he’s about to vault up on stage and do this year's rant in style; Gareth will be damned if he lets Eddie get detention on a Hellfire campaign night.

“Eddie, no.” Gareth warns, as his best friend tries to worm his way past them.

“Eddie, yes.” He grins, bolting forward even as multiple hands reach out to yank him back.

“Whatever they’re doing we do not want to get in the middle!” Jeff hisses in his ear as Grant reaches for his middle (already once tricked by grabbing Eddie’s jacket, which he simply shrugged out of). Gareth does his part, holding firmly onto one of Eddie’s hands. Eddie bravely tries to stagger forward, despite the efforts of what looks like some kind of mutant tangle of human limbs.

“Come here microphone, my beloved!” He pants, comically reaching his arms out towards the stage, before Grant promptly stops fooling around and hefts him into the air.

“Nooo--the people need to hear me!” Eddie wails, thrashing.

Gareth rolls his eyes and spots three familiar faces in doing so. Freezes so abruptly that the arm he was holding onto slips out of his grip, allowing Eddie to deploy a tickle attack.

The result is Grant almost throwing him to the floor, with Jeff forced to let go or fall.

Free to cause chaos, Eddie throws his hands in the air, grinning widely.

“Is that…the freshman, up there?” Gareth asks before his best friend can crow victory.

“I’m sure there’s many freshmen up there, buddy.” Grant says with false sincerity as he regains his breath.

“No, not--I mean our freshmen! Henderson, Wheeler, and Sinclair!” He points, and sure enough, on the side of the crowd opposite the jocks, there stood Hellfire’s youngest with their heads put together.

“Now just what are they up to, I wonder?” Eddie ponders aloud, before shrugging his jacket back in place and strutting forward.

Trading uneasy looks with each other, his friends follow.

xXx

“The auction isn’t kicking off until 6 pm.” Henderson says, as he carefully counts the individual bills in his hand. “We know that besides the basketball team and the cheerleading team, they’ve got like, the Mayor involved, and the fire department, which means--”

“A lot of people are going to be there.” Mike interrupts, arms crossed over his arms. “That’s what it means, Dustin. What’s the point if every girl there is going to be bidding on him?”

“Were you even listening, Mike? I just said there’s a bunch of other people they’re auctioning off!”

Wheeler Jr. pulls a face that nearly makes Eddie laugh (and thus give up the fact he was slowly sneaking up on them) before the kid shoots back, “We have five dollars total Dustin. I don’t think that’s going to be enough.”

“Not to buy a whole person.” Eddie says, voice dropping to imitate the current big bad in their D&D campaign, “But five dollars is a fair price for a body part I’d say…”

He trails off with a cackle as the three freshmen startle away from him like spooked horses. “Now what--or who--are you buying?”

“They’re gonna explain it here in a minute,” Dustin says after he recovers, waving at the girls in front of the stage with a hand. “But there’s some big charity fundraiser happening tonight. Right now they’re voting one guy from the basketball team and one girl from the cheerleading squad to represent the school, but they’re auctioning off a bunch of people.” Dustin explains, holding up his fistful of dollars with a wild grin.

“If you’re the highest bidder, you get to spend the day with the person you bid on.” Lucas adds, because Dustin skipped right over that part. “Since it’s Valentine's Day themed, they’re referring to them as “winning a date”.

Well that explained all the giggling cheerleaders.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “I’d ask if this is Sinclair’s bail money, but as my last two years remind me, it’s only for juniors and seniors. Not--” He playfully slings an arm around Lucas’s shoulders, “--for the darkside’s newest recruits.”

The uncomfortable look Lucas gives him is almost enough to make Eddie feel bad, but it’s not his fault Lucas was tempted by the evils of highschool sportsball. He figures the kid will come to his senses soon enough, and considering how awful the jocks are, it won’t be too long before Sinclair is 100% a Hellfire club member again.

“Which begs the question.” Eddie continues, slinging an arm over Mike’s shoulder as well. “What are you scheming? I’d ask if you’re buying me a date, but,'' He gives an over-dramatic sigh,” alas, no one can survive the charms of Eddie the Banished.”

“Charm is one word for it.” Jeff says, as the rest of Hellfire finally catches up. Gareth and Grant roll their eyes as Mike and Lucas chuckle weakly at Eddie’s exaggerated pout.

He drops his arms from his little lamb’s shoulders, taking a step back and looking around at the growing crowd.

“Hush Jeff. Let’s see if ol’ Eddie can guess who our brethren here have their eyes on. I wonder if…” He trails off, dragging out the last word as he does so before a bright, teasing smile lights up his face. “Aha! I see one Miss Cunningham. Are we bidding on her for Sir Gareth?”

A sputtering noise erupts behind him, as Eddie turns with glee to watch Gareth practically choke on soda he’d just taken a sip of, Grant thumping him on the back.

“Eddie.” Gareth hisses, and somehow it sounds like a warning even if his voice has a slight wheeze to it.

“What?” Eddie says, full of faux innocence. “We all know the lengths you’ve gone to get her attention recently.”

Gareth’s gone bright red, a testament to the fact that he’s been mooning over Chrissy Cunningham since the day she complimented one of his drawings.

His over-the-top moaning of how to woo her away from Jason is a prospect Eddie tolerates only because he himself has gone through great lengths to impress men that will never once look his way, let alone consider him as a romantic option.

(And also because Gareth, as Eddie’s best friend and confidant, was well aware of Eddie’s own crush on one Steve Harrington.

Apparently, Hellfire’s members were just cursed to fall for jocks.)

“They want to bet on Steve.” Mike says with an eye roll, apparently done with this entire charade.

For two seconds Eddie thinks that he’s somehow spoken the part about Steve aloud and that Mike is somehow echoing his deepest, innermost thoughts but is saved from panicking further by Dustin adding;

“We’re gonna make him play a campaign with us.”

The kid’s grin makes his eyes sparkle, which is completely at odds with the way Eddie’s stomach plummets.

“He played D&D with my sister, Eddie.” Lucas says, feigning a hurt look. “My kid sister, but not me?”

“Harrington played D&D?” Gareth’s voice implies he doesn’t believe it, and honestly? Had it not been for the freshmen, he wouldn’t have believed anything that was said about Harrington. He was on the verge of tears with laughter when they told him that the almighty King Steve was their chauffeur. They had to be lying about how often they hung out with Steve to begin with, right? Because there was just no way.

Except they weren’t. They really, really, weren’t.

It only took a handful of times of watching Steve pick them up from Hellfire, and then seeing the entire extended group (including Sinclair’s on-again-off-again girlfriend and Robin Buckley of all people) bouncing around Harrington like over excited puppies all over town.

The arcade. Downtown Hawkins. The local milkshake diner and the stupid movie theater.

Literally.

Everywhere.

“You guys are going to bid on Steve Harrington and make him play D&D.” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie doesn’t blame him for doing that either.

It’s the stupidest thing he’s heard all day, and he spent the last hour and a half listening to Mr. Rulf yawn on about parallelograms.

“Yeah! You guys wanna pitch in and help?”

“Absolutely not.” Eddie sneers. He can’t help himself--this is against everything he’s ever stood for.

Stupid thoughts of stupid Steve going on a stupid date with him, aside.

“Yeah guys, I think we’re gonna eat outside today. If you wanna listen to…whatever,” Jeff casts his eyes towards the cheerleader that’s bounding up the steps of the stage, ponytail bouncing, “ then go right ahead.”

“Oh we don’t need to listen to this.” Dustin dismisses the entire thing with a wave of his hand, making Mike roll his eyes again.

Somewhere in his campaign notes there’s a joke written about Wheeler Jr’s eyes getting stuck like that. Eddie hadn’t planned on bringing it out tonight, but a part of him really wants to.

Maybe if he can talk the freshman out of their idiotic idea, he’ll reward himself and do it tonight anyways.

….Or he could still steal that microphone.

xXx Steve xXx

Steve has no idea how he got talked into this.

Actually, that’s a lie, he knows how it started: a phone call, his mother, and a sudden way for her to be in the spotlight for her yearly fifteen minutes of Hawkins fame. He just can’t recall why he agreed to it.

“It's an opportunity, Steven." She says, heels clicking against the department store tile.

An embarrassment is what it was, but Steve knew better than to tell his mother that.

"You should be honored that Wendy--that’s the head chair of the charity board, you remember her don't you? She used to attend your piano recitals--she asked for you personally." His mother expertly plucked a shirt from the rack, holding it up to the light.

"Those were your parties mom, not my piano recitals." Steve reminds her as she holds the shirt out to him. He took it, adding it to the stack he had in his hands.

The parties were the exact same kind of shit this as this “Valentine's Day Fundraiser” a way for rich people to celebrate themselves by making others uncomfortable.

Only instead of being forced to play piano so his mothers friends could wine and dine with the famous Harrington's, he was being hauled up in front of the entire town (or whoever was attending this stupid event) and auctioned off as a “date” to the highest bidder.

(“It’s for one day, Steven, don’t be so dramatic. Why is your generation entirely incapable of taking a joke and having fun?” His mother had said, when he tried to tell her he wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

Of course there was no answer that would please her; soon enough, Steve found himself dragged about town as his mother played dress up.)

"You'll be standing alongside the Mayor, the fire department, even that idiot, Mary Marie--"

She stops for a moment, eyeing a jacket with a critical eye.

Just as quickly she dismisses it with a hum, prowling on to the next section.

"--the point is that there will be plenty of candidates for the children to pick from, but you’ll be the only hero up there."

That same critical eye turns on him, appraising him like he was no more than a horse in her stable, adding up imperfections and dividing amongst his best qualities.

(Despite a lifetime of training, it still takes everything in him not to squirm.)

"Not to mention a Harrington.” She purrs, taking a step closer to run a manicured hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing away a stray crease. “Women will be throwing money to win a day with you."

Steve has to fight not to outright shudder.

"Which means you have to look your best. Now stop whining, we’re almost done.”

Steve doubts that, but it doesn’t matter; he never had a choice to begin with.

xXx

Four hours, one shower, and several rounds of his mother’s nagging and meticulous styling, ,Steve finds himself back in Hawkin’s High, staring at the gym.

His mother had long swept past him, having spotted some high school friends and gone over to lord her lifestyle and general wealth over them.

For a fundraiser, the charity board in charge had spared no expense in dressing the gym up. Red, pink and white balloons decorated the doorways and a large stage hauled to one end.

Tables with thick, white table cloth are artfully arranged about the floor, caterers swiftly moving between them.

This is probably the fanciest this gym has ever looked, and Steve wants to be anywhere but inside it.

“Oh--Steve.” A gentle voice says next to him, and Steve turns his head in surprise to see Chrissy Cunningham look nervously up at him. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Me neither honestly.” He tells her, watching the way that makes the younger woman smile. “But I’ve been volun-told to be auctioned off. What about yourself?”

Chrissy runs her hands down her dress, a modest if not beautiful blue halter dress , wincing as she snags a nail on it. “The school held a vote at lunch about who would represent the school tonight. All of the varsity cheerleaders and basketball players were involved.”

“I see.” Steve says, keeping his voice gentle and playful. There had always been a part of Chrissy that had reminded him of El. Someone who needed kind words in their life. “You got voted as tonight’s sacrifice, huh?”

Chrissy laughs at that, hand flying to cover her mouth. “I guess you could say that.” She says, and seems surprised at herself for it.

“Did Jason get picked too?” Steve asks. It would make sense if he was, the guy was the basketball Captain after all.

Chrissy nods, then chews on her lip. “Yes but--he’s not happy about it,”

Steve snorts and tries to cover it with a cough. “None of us are.”

“It’s more that I’m being auctioned off.”

Chrissy must catch the look on his face because she rushes to add; “You know, like any boyfriend would be! I know it’s just supposed to be a fun silly thing and they’re not really dates but…” She trails off, voice growing quieter at the end. “He worries.”

The word “worry” sounds like it means something else entirely.

Steve feels for her.

“Hey, if Jason’s an ass about it, let me know.” Steve says after a moment of shared silence. “You don’t deserve to deal with him being a kid about this shit.”

Chrissy blinks up at him at that, hand almost to her mouth as though she’d subconsciously raised them up to chew on her nails. “Thanks Steve. That’s nice of you.” She whispers it, and Steve nods and smiles at her.

“There you two are!” A woman says, rushing over with a clipboard. “Steve Harrington and Chrissy Cunningham, right? We’re gathering all the dates behind those doors.” She turns and points to the opposite end of the gym. “If you both would follow me please?”

Steve motions for Chrissy to go first, and moves to follow her when a flash of curls crushed down by a blur of white, blue and electric yellow catches his eye.

He turns automatically, seeking it out and sure enough, ducking down the hall is Henderson, Sinclair hot on his heels.

A familiar mixture of emotions lights up Steve’s spine, and he knows immediately he won’t be able to rest until he figures out what the gremlins are up to--because their Hellfire Club was supposedly canceled today on grounds that Munson had stolen a microphone, or some other crap.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll join you in a second!” Steve calls, before darting down the hall, after them.

[ebongawk]

oooh hellcheer hc is that eddie goes into fully nurse mode whenever chrissy’s sick. she has a cold? he’s fussing over her, making soup from scratch thank you very much bc he’s actually a great cook. cramps? he buys out her favorite chocolate from the corner store, he’s got three different types of heat packs ready, he’ll massage her belly for hours if that’s what it takes to make her feel better

Here's the thing: Chrissy was never home when Eddie got out of the studio on Wednesdays.

Wednesdays were their short days. The band's self-proclaimed 'recharge' days. The midweek break they all pretended to need that they'd written into their contracts so the fucking producer wouldn't throw a fit when Jeff dipped out at eleven to go meet his girlfriend at the train station, because Marie was in Boston Saturday night through Wednesday morning for work.

Eddie usually wandered in after a fast food lunch and a grocery run around one o'clock. Chrissy wasn't even off most days until four. So when he walked in the front door and was greeted with the curdling scream of horror queen Janet Leigh on the tube?

Yeah, Eddie about had a heart attack. Like full-on hand-over-the-heart terror.

"Sorry," Chrissy croaked from the couch as she frantically turned the volume of her vintage horror flick down. Psycho. Classic. Eddie hadn't even noticed her, she was so bundled up in blankets. A Chrissy burrito that could've passed for a rumpled throw blanket. "Sorry, sorry. You came in at the worst part."

Shit, she sounded awful.

"That's my specialty," Eddie breathed, dropping the excess number of grocery bags in the foyer and tripping over his own feet to make it to her side. "What's up, buttercup? How come you're home so early?"

Shit, she looked awful. All curled up and shivering despite the throw around her shoulders and the duvet she'd dragged in from their bedroom. Eddie automatically put a hand on her forehead, hissing at the burn beneath his palm.

"Think I caught the bug that's been going around on the publishing floor," Chrissy said, covering her mouth with the throw as she talked. Trying to breathe on him as little as possible. But her sinuses were so full, he doubted she could take in any air from her nose. "Editors were next, I knew it, but everyone insisted it'd stay quarantined upstairs."

"Morons," Eddie huffed, eyes raking over her face. Her blotchy, feverish cheeks; her bloodshot eyes ringed in the purple bruises of exhaustion. Her lips were dry, and Eddie sighed, hopping up and pressing a kiss to her forehead that she protested.

"You're gonna get infected," she grumbled. Eddie just shrugged, more firmly wrapping her up in her blankets.

"Did you take anything?"

"Grabbed some cold medicine from the pharmacy that's next to the office," she said, still covering her mouth. Exhaling a couple of rough coughs into the fabric. "Probably should've eaten something, but nothing sounds good."

Her sentences were choppy and slurred, which was how Eddie knew that this was serious. Having majored in English at BU, Chrissy's articulation refined to a fucking knife's point over the years. Ready to stab anyone who looked at her with a modicum of doubt when she explained what she did for a living.

His poor little Supervising Editor.

"Alright," Eddie said, hopping to his feet and pressing another kiss to her crown – this one not quite as protested as the first – before he rounded the couch to collect the grocery haul he'd bought that was entirely inadequate for a sick Chrissy. "Lemme get some water in the kettle, yeah? I'll make you some ginger tea and run to the bodega for soup supplies."

"Love, really, I'm fine––"

"Don't you I'm fine me, Cunningham," he called from the kitchen. Even though her last name had been Munson for damn near five years now. He loved the dopey little smile she still got when he reprimanded her with her maiden name. The eye roll. The huff of, That's Munson to you, Mister.

The huff never came this time. She was too tired to argue, he knew.

He started some prep work for what they had on hand while the water heated up. Mincing up a metric fuckton of garlic, grabbing some chicken breast from the fridge, grating most of a knob of ginger. They had some frozen chicken wing tips, but Eddie wasn't sure he had the time or patience to make broth from scratch. He mentally added store bought shit to his list, along with spinach and carrots.

Once her tea was ready, Eddie departed after stealing another kiss – this one to her cheek, which she yelled at him for as well as she was able and which he laughed at when her voice broke.

Another forty-five minutes later, after hauling ass to the store and back, Eddie had soup simmering on the stove, orange juice in the fridge, and three other types of medicine lined up along the coffee table to be taken after she'd eaten.

"I should go to the bedroom," Chrissy sighed as Eddie exchanged her empty mug of tea for a glass of juice. "Give you veg space so I don't get you sick."

Eddie scoffed. He'd grabbed The Two Towers from their nightstand, carefully depositing it on the arm of the couch before gently easing Chrissy's juice from her hands. He crouched down in front of her, leveling her with as withering a stare as he could muster around the worry he could feel lining his face.

"What kind of husband do you think I am, sweetness? To abandon his queen in her most desperate times of need?" She rolled her eyes, cheeks turned up in a slight smile. Eddie grinned, reaching up to pinch her cheek. Broadening her smile as much as she was able. "My fair lady needs her noble knight's assistance now more than ever! I ain't just gonna abandon you to squalor, baby. You know better than that."

She made a little noise of distress, and Eddie knew it was because she was terrified of getting him sick. Even though he played backup to Jeff, fucking his vocals could fuck the whole timeline for their next album.

He couldn't have given less of a fuck.

Tucking the blanket more firmly around her, Eddie carefully wedged his arms under her slight body, hoisting her up with a cracked little squeal from her raw throat before settling himself lengthwise on the couch, Chrissy in his lap.

"Eddie––"

"Shh, baby," he said, grabbing the book behind him and opening up to the bookmark. Picking up where they'd left off the last time he lulled her to sleep, just the night before, when she'd still been perfectly healthy. Harboring this bit of sick down deep enough that her body was still attempting to fight it off.

His voice, she'd told him once, was her favorite lullaby.

"So it was," he began to read, "that in the light of a fair morning, King Theoden and Gandalf the White Rider met again on green grass beside the Deeping-stream."

An hour later, Chrissy was out like a light. Breathing deeply through her mouth, with a little dribble of drool spilling onto his shirt and making him chuckle. He leaned down, kissing her hair and brushing it back over her ear.

"My poor little peach," he murmured, pressing the words into her scalp. The scent of ginger and garlic wafted through the air, and Eddie knew he should extricate himself from her embrace. Slip into the kitchen and turn the stove off.

But Chrissy let out this scratchy little snore, and Eddie figured he could give her another half hour.

"Love you, sweet," he said. And by the way she hummed in her slumber, snuggling even closer against his chest until her ear was pressed right up against her heart, Eddie thought, fuck, maybe she'd heard him.

(inspo ask)

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

The Grumbo Apocalypse / Monster Horror AU

Massive thank you and credit to @angeart for helping me out with this AU of mine, coming up with new ideas, listening to my insane rambles, writing cool stuff, and making some brilliant concept art!

(and helping with this post too!)

CW/TW for this au: apocalyptic scenario, discussions of death / existential dread / being replaced / horror themes, body horror, issues of identity and self-image

SO the 'grumbo apocalypse / monster horror' AU is sort of what it says on the tin? Mumbo is just a regular guy with a coding job who wakes up one day to a nice bright apocalypse outside.

The sky turns white, the sun turns black, shadows become death traps, wormhole open up in the middle of the road... you get the picture. At first, everything is reported on by local news stations- it all seems rather mundane despite the horror of it all. People are hunted down by various monsters in the streets, and you can hear all about it on the ten 'o clock news.

Still, eventually, humanity seems to flicker out. No more electricity. No more news. Mumbo goes to his living room window and Something looks back at him. So he does what any self-respecting person would do, and cowers under the windowsill waiting to die.

The monster that breaks into his house through the glass is something the media called an 'outsider'. Its form shifts, changing fluidly with horrible wet sounds. It has scales and feathers which move across its pale skin like insects. Two- five- three- two eyes. A mouth, filled with rows of teeth and black bile, opens up from nothing on its face. It stares at Mumbo. Mumbo thinks he's going to die.

Then the monster speaks to him. It says 'hello' in a disjointed, stuttering voice. Mumbo doesn't die. The monster tries to look more human. It's name is Grian, apparently.

Grian is part of a species which existed long before the apocalypse. A monster which lived on the outskirts of towns and cities, usually just keeping to themselves. Like pests, they would sometimes wander into isolated houses, and find themselves nesting there.

Outsiders- we will call them that for now- can change form easily. Naturally. They also mimic sounds. Voices. Screams of the dead. And they are designed to blend in. To slip into a home, kill a human, take their voice, become them. If they feel threatened enough.

The apocalypse made them angrier, more feral. Hunting, eating, killing humans just seemed natural, despite their generally passive past.

Mumbo survives because he freezes. Naturally, he's the type to panic and stop moving entirely. He freezes and hides and waits. Outsiders are built to chase a moving target. They don't tend to attack an unmoving figure.

Grian settles, and Mumbo becomes his new friend. Like that, because Mumbo is still reeling from not being slashed to death or eaten, Grian simply stays. Or, Mumbo stays.

Grian is very protective of Mumbo. They leave the city, Grian using his teeth and claws to kill any threats. Into the forest, they find Grian's nest- where his flock is (though Mumbo can never quite be sure if they are there, hidden in the shadows) and they survive.

It is nice, for a while.

Grian only sometimes talks in an original voice. He can speak his own language (chirps, whistles, gurgles, clicks) just fine, but he is only made to mimic human language. The most basic words- though he's learning. He can use the voices of the dead (and has a funny habit of replicating their dying screams).

(Mumbo tries not to hear familiar screams in Grian's voice)

(If he has nightmares about it, and panics when he wakes up wrapped in Grian's arms, the arms of a killing machine, he doesn't mention it)

But, also, the apocalypse, and living in the forest, and cuddling with a being designed to kill and replace you, is scary. Mumbo wants to go home. He wants to stay. The sky is white. His mind can't quite take it.

And when another monster tries to attack him, he runs. Grian kills the monster fast. He sees Mumbo running. Instinct triggers. He pounces.

Mumbo tries to forgive Grian for the scratches. (They aren't scratches. Mumbo calls them scratches. They run deep). He still flinches for the next week whenever Grian gets close. They both know it couldn't have been helped- their instincts are incompatible. Human and monster. Made enemies by the end of the world.

Grian tries to make himself more human. Two eyes, two arms, two legs, no tail, less feathers, smoother skin, a normal face, a normal voice. It hurts to hold that form. It hurts to look at his true form, knowing it scares Mumbo. It's worth the pain to pretend they are a normal pair.

Neither of them talk. Neither of them try. Soon, one of them will break, and the other will come crumbling down after... but that's a story for another day.

(psst. ask me questions about this AU I get insane about it always) (also scar, cub, pearl, joe hills and cleo have very minor roles you should ask about them too)

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello, my request is with the theme of the daughter of Leviathan and Behemoth. Even with Poseidon, Shiva (with Parvati, Kali and Durga, of course) and Buddha.

Let's say her dragon bride was in scaling season, and she went far away, hiding even from her older brother Ziz.

She didn't want to let anyone see her, since all her scales fall off and grow fast, the problem is that her new scales are transparent and very soft.

Also, she often gathers her old scales to throw into a volcano, where humans near it discovered that the soil made crops grow faster.

So this is about her dragon bride trying to commit the perfect crime to wipe out the mountain of old scales shiny like diamonds, while her tail is full of scales that look like super soft dumplings.

-You could only stare down in horror after you woke up, finding scales littering your bed.

-Your eyes darted frantically to the calendar in your room, and you gawked, you were almost four full weeks early!!

-Every other year, your scales shed, falling off to make new scales, ones that are harder and stronger, but it was always on time, give or take a day or so, nothing like this!!

-Ziz knocked on your door, as he had heard you yelp out when you saw the scales, “Y/N, are you okay?” as if you were moving at light speed to were at the door, keeping it shut, “I’m fine! Don’t come in!”

-Your brother instantly grew concerned, hearing your frantic and panicked tone, trying to force his way in, “Y/N what’s wrong? What happened?!” the two of you were in a tug-of-war with the door.

-He finally relented, sighing deeply as he didn’t want to upset you, “Just tell me these, are you okay?” you hesitate for a moment before answer, “I will be soon! I’m going out! Don’t look for me!”

-Ziz instantly nodded, now knowing what was going on, you were molting, you had always been very private about that, when your scales would fall off, finding it embarrassing, even though he wasn’t bothered, as you’ve seen him molting his feathers plenty of times.

-Despite ‘never’ looking for you, Ziz knew exactly where you were going, as it was the same place you always went to, a large volcano that has only erupted twice in the past five thousand year, it’s always active, but is quiet.

-You went there to destroy the evidence of your shedding, throwing the scales into the volcano and you would relax there by the warmth while your new scales grew in.

-Your shed scales looked like opal, sparkling in a rainbow of colors in the sunlight, and as hard as diamonds, while the new scales growing in were transparent and soft like dumplings

-You were vulnerable during this time, which is why you hid, you’ve never been attacked, but Ziz always told you when you did shed, to hide away to protect yourself.

-You were surprised when you arrived at the volcano, finding a thriving farming civilization of humans now there, you didn’t approach, only flying up to the top and dumped in the scales you had at the moment.

-You laid down on the top lip of the caldera, a soft sigh escaping you as you basked in the warmth, soft purrs leaving you in content.

-Your mind then started to race, trying to figure out why you were so early before your mind drifted to your lover, who had been courting you for a while and your eyes widened, remembering reading somewhere in the libraries around Valhalla, that if a sudden change in a lifestyle happened, it could throw your body out of whack!

-He’s been courting you for a few months now, but here recently is when you started to get more physically affectionate, kissing, cuddling, and spending the night with him, which for you, is something totally new for you!

-You sagged against the ground beneath you, feeling a bit annoyed, but at the same time you felt sad that you didn’t get a chance to tell your lover where you were going, and this process took at least a week!

-You could only hope Ziz would tell him when he came looking for you.

-Your attention then went to the valley below you, your tail flicking around as you saw the massive farms that seemed to be flourishing with all sorts of crops.

-This village wasn’t here the last time you came to the volcano but you were pleased to see that they were surviving without having to struggle.

-While you didn’t really care about humans, you didn’t like seeing other struggle.

-You failed to hear the footsteps coming up behind you until a voice spoke, “What happened to your scales?”

-You instantly turned, teeth pulled back in a snarl, claws out and tail thrashing behind you, to defend yourself before your eyes widened, seeing your lover.

-Poseidon- You instantly flushed, trying to backpedal, “What are you doing here? Don’t look at me!” he wasn’t bothered by your anger or your embarrassment, stabbing his trident into the before approaching you and instantly wrapping his arms around you. He was surprised to feel your new scales were soft, almost jelly like before he pressed his lips against your cheek, how he normally greeted you. You had been struggling to get out of his embrace until he kissed you and you calmed, your hands on his chest before he pressed his forehead against your own, “Are you alright?” you nodded, not meeting his gaze as your face was bright red before he sat down with you in his lap, stroking your hair with one hand while the other ran across your scales gently. Poseidon didn’t tease you for shying away and trying to hide, as he knew the process was something healthy, to make new scales, mermaids went through something similar every few years so it was nothing new. His acceptance to this did relax you, leaning your head down on his shoulder as he hugged you, “I would say stay with me the next time this happens, but I think those humans are grateful for your assistance?” your confusion made him smile lightly, pressing a kiss into your hair, “Those scales of your, combined with the volcanic soil, makes for very fertile soil.” Your eyes widened at this, sparkling up at him, “Really?!” That was a day you would always remember, when you made the mighty, stoic Poseidon, laugh.

-Shiva- Your eyes widened, seeing not only Shiva, but Parvati, Kali, and Durga there as well, all looking at you with wide eyes, concern on their faces. Your face quickly flushed before you turned to run but Shiva easily caught you, pulling you back into his arms as you struggled, “No let go! I don’t want you to see me like this!” Parvati quickly took your hand in hers, halting you as you didn’t want to accidentally scratch her before Shiva spoke, speaking quietly into your ear, his breath tickling you, “Y/N, it’s fine. Calm down.” You let out a small whimper as he sat down with you in his arms and let his wives dote on you, Kali brushing your tears away from your cheeks while Durga spoke, “Do you normally shed like this?” you nodded, not really meeting their eyes, still feeling a bit shy, but Parvati cupped your cheeks, making you look at her, “Then it’s nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N. We love you for you, and if this is something that normally happens, then we want you to trust us with this. If you want to hide, hide with us!” she ended her statement with a smile which did make you feel better before you squeaked, a shivering running up your spine as Kali and Shiva were stroking the new scales on your tail, Shiva in awe, “They’re so soft! They harden over time right?” you nodded, “After about a week or so.” One of your scales fell off and Durga inspected it, holding it up, “Hmm, if you’re throwing these in, that would explain why the soil in the area is so rich. The calcium in your scales paired with the volcanic soil is very powerful fertilizer!” you were completely blank, not realizing this and you were quickly blushing, pouting as you looked away from your laughing lovers as Shiva hugged you close, pressing his lips against your cheek, nuzzling softly, but it did make you feel so happy that they were so accepting.

-Buddha- Buddha immediately lunged, as he knew you were going to try and run and he caught you, hugging you close to him, your back in his chest. You were trying to get free, but he wouldn’t let you, easily turning you before he kissed you deeply, stunning you but quickly your eyes went hazy. He pulled back, pressing his forehead against your own, his beautiful blue eyes piercing into your over his glasses, “I’m happy I found you. You didn’t tell me you were going to an island for a vacation!” you tried to find humor in his words, but when he noticed you didn’t smile, he squeezed you close, making you rest your head on his chest, to hear his heartbeat, “It’s okay, Y/N. I figured it would happen sooner or later, since you have scales.” You squeaked, pulling back in shock, your eyes wide, like this was news to you before you turned bright red, hugging him around his neck as he laughed loudly, ignoring your pouting. A shiver ran up your spine as his large hands stroked along your tail, feeling new the scales, “It feels like marshmallows!” you giggled lightly as he always seemed to compare everything with sweets or snacks and seeing you smile made him smile and he sat with you, enjoying the warmth from the volcano. He was soon laughing again at your stunned face when he told you that your scales were what was helping the soil down below, as you had no idea, you were just trying to get rid of the evidence!!

[darkness-and-books]

I Like Your Sweater

TOS Leonard McCoy x gn!reader

⚠️: none I don’t think, just fluffy at the end

word count: 758

My alarm rang throughout my quarters, so I turned it off and rolled over. “It’ll go off again in ten” muttered angrily to myself. I was wrong or maybe I was right but I didn’t hear it, I don’t really know. What I do know is that it’s 9 AM and I am laaate, like the kind of late where I hopped out of bed and scrambled for any of the nearest clothes, most of which were on the floor and yesterday’s or older. Just as I was hopping about, trying to get my other leg in my pants while also brushing my teeth, Scotty’s face popped up on the video communicator. Thunk I fell over backwards, I was hoping that maybe no one, or at least no one important, would notice that I was late. I could hear Scotty’s laughter radiating from the communicator. “I see you’re already getting ready!” He belowed between fits of laughter. “Yes, why do you call?” I inquired rather loudly as I was still on the floor trying to get my pants the rest of the way on. “I just wanted to let you know that when you do finally get down to engineering, we’re having our monthly meeting to assign projects” Scotty informed while attempting to hide more chuckling. (I dunno, I just made up something important) That was today?!? “Are you kidding?!?” I popped up with my pants finally all the way on to look at Scotty. “Nope, serious as a heart attack” He deadpanned. “Fine, fine, I’ll be there!” I shouted as I dived back down to find my toothbrush in this mess. “You’ve got eight minutes, see you there!” Scotty singsonged before hanging up. Eight minutes, so really I’ve got five minutes and enough time to take the turbo lift down, and not miss anything but basic introduction. Why is it so cold in here? I know I’ve got bigger fish to fry at the moment, but I’ve gotta have a uniform sweater around here somewhere. “Bingo!” I swiped the sweater off the floor and put it on. I didn’t have time for a shower, so I did the next best thing and used a handful of water to smooth out the top of my hair and put on deodorant. I run for the turbo lift. “Morning Chekov!” I shout as I run. I get into the turbo lift and pant out engineering. I’m so grateful that it was open and I didn’t have to use the stairs. Once off the lift I run into the conference rooms in engineering, there are six of them and Scotty didn’t actually say which once we were in this morning. I started to just randomly pop my head into other meetings, fifth time’s the charm I guess because we were in room five. I slipped in and tried to sit without being noticed, but the door slammed behind me. Suddenly everyone was giving me various degrees of judgemental looks. “What?” I ask in irritation, “Nothing, you just late” Scotty reassured while glowering at all the other engineering personnel. The meeting was long and slow, the only thing I learned was that despite previous mistakes I was still working in the engine core. I had nothing else to do unless something got broken so I headed down to the medbay to see what was up with my favourite CMO. The whole way there I kept getting looks, was my hair really that bad? I thought about this and automatically ran a hand over my hair. News travels fast around here, maybe they just all know I was late, I can’t have been the only person who was late today though. I walked on into the medbay to find Leonard at his desk. Must be the luckier part of my day, he’s usually being dragged around the medbay if not the whole ship for various emergencies. “Hiya, Len!” I call to him as I make my way over. He turns to look at me and whatever he was about to say dies on his lips. “I like your sweater, darlin” he says in a slightly mocking tone. “It’s just a uniform sweater” I tell him, “Yeah, but whose uniform?” He questions, crossing his arms and eyeing the sweater. I finally look down and much to my near horror, I see a medical officer’s sweater over my engineering shirt. “Don’t worry bout it darlin. It looks better on you anyway” Leonard compliments me as he gestures me over for a hug and a kiss.

[humbly-a-doppelganger]

THE STOLEN CHILD - WIP intro

So, I thought I’d post an overview of the world that burst inside my mind four years ago, and has so far refused to leave :)

The Stolen Child is the first part of a multi-book, multi-POV series titled The Kinship Chronicles. The story falls under the self-engineered time capsule urban fantasy genre, which is short for a mosaic of urban fantasy, historical fiction, adventure, a touch of horror, a tentative dark academia, and probably a couple other genres I’m forgetting right now. It's also YA! But, above all else, TKC is a story of doomed debts dealt across generations.

The synopsis is as follows:

Coraline 'Cal' Everitt has a secret. Her body, which at the age of five, she discovered would split into two forms—one mortal, the other not. Oftentimes without her consent. Why? All her attempts to learn the reason proved fruitless. But here's the one thing she's certain of: no one in her family shares her ability, thus, she must bring it to her grave.

Oliver Whitaker has a secret. His double-lived identity. He hails from The Kinship, an underground society for the otherworldly Saz. And yet, he spends his days Aboveground, spying on Cal in search of a sign that would mark her as one of his own, like her parents before her. Even though they hold no memories of it.

Diana Zubairu has a secret. The ghosts of her past haunting her present. Her family moved to London in hopes of escaping the aftermath of her brother's death. She may think herself on the path to healing, may find new companions in Cal and Oliver, yet John's clutch is strong and stubborn—and he has deemed her his sole victim.

Then a sudden attack falls upon them, causing the walls guarding their secrets to crumble to dust. Cal, Diana and Oliver will have to rediscover reality in the latter's native land—the very same land Cal and Diana are also entitled to. But in The Kinship, they'll get entangled in a quest that will challenge the very basis on which their perceptions hinder. Min Hao, the youngest daughter of a dying politician, is missing.

And only they may save her.

The Stolen Child is an amalgam of a myriad of tropes, plot points, etc. that don’t quite fit into any categories. You’ll like it if the following catches your eye:

Character-driven stories

Fleshed-out lore

Slowburn

Victorian era aesthetics

Underground, secret societies

Unconventional powers

A strong emphasis on platonic relationships

Mysteries

Queer characters and storylines

Time loops

Creepy, monstrous children

Saphic yearning

Rotten utopias

"We were fated to meet"

Diary romance

Journey to acceptance

Complicated families

I have a sick obsession with making characters. Seriously. The Stolen Child has a main cast of eight:

Cal Everitt ✧₊⁺ A newcomer lost amid her birthright

Oliver Whitaker ⚕ A healer who many help all but himself

Diana Zubairu ཐིཋྀ A foreigner hiding from her ghosts

Selvar Zandstra 𖤓 A survivor frozen in time

Atalanta Everitt-Melton ೱ A historian on the verge of collapse

Hunter Hao 𓍼 A brother with a blindfold in tatters

Morgan Hao ☠︎︎ A sister burdened by her misery

Caleb Verninac ♫ A son of secrets and pain

If any of this interests you, here’s the chapter list with links to each respective chapter!

Aside from posting on Tumblr, you can also find me on AO3 (Crosskill11), on Wattpad (Crosskill-11) and on Instagram (humbly_a_doppelganger), though I very, very rarely post anything there, if at all.

Now, this is getting too long, so I’ll be posting my inspirations for The Stolen Child—and The Kinship Chronicles as a whole—under the cut.

Early 2000s urban YA fantasy literature: in many ways, The Kinship Chronicles is an ode to those stories of girls who discovered the world was not what it seemed, that magic was not the stuff of fiction and that, despite everything, she was owed a place among that newfound reality. Only it is queer

The Shadowhunter Chronicles by Cassandra Clare: literally all of it, from The Mortal Instruments to The Last Hours. In fact, The Kinship Chronicles started out as a mesh of wild TSC fan fiction and a pre-existing WIP of mine I’d created at 14. Those books have nurtured me in my adolescence (and early adulthood) and in many ways, The Kinship is what my social sciences brain would’ve liked the shadowhunter world to be. The Infernal Devices and The Last Hours made me fall in love with the Victorian and Edwardian Eras

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs: his books were the first time I heard the word ‘time loop’ (or bucle temporal in Spanish), and I remembered being so mesmerised by the kind of powers peculiars wielded—they were, in themselves, peculiar, and I hope that Saz’s insignias embody that same peculiarity

The Loneliest Girl in the Universe by Lauren James: I don’t think many people have read this book, I finished it at 2:00 a.m. in a random summer and it’s stayed branded in my brain ever since. I can’t recommend it enough. Strangely, it made me love the idea of falling in love with a person who you’ve only known through their writings

Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie: listen, the second line of the first chapter of The Stolen Child directly mentions Barrie. Peter Pan was my first fictional crush, Neverland my first form of Heaven. Two summers ago I read the original book from the early 20th century and I bawled my eyes out. Because of this, my main character, Cal, adores Peter Pan and I hope to be able to convey at least half as much as what Peter Pan conveyed to me. I don’t care if it sounds childish

Saint Seiya: Knights of the Zodiac: eight-year-old me had no business watching this anime, but I’m glad I did. My man Ikki had done wonders to help me worldbuild

Tales of Berseria & Tales of Zestiria: undisputed JRPG masterpieces. Great, great, great for worldbuilding

Uncharted & Tomb Raider: I will cry, I wanted to step into their worlds so much I carved out a piece of them and stitched it into Mirror (this is very vague inspiration, but inspiration nonetheless)

Plato’s philosophy: truly inspired a great plot point and Morgan and Hunter’s character arcs. I should really get to reading the Symposium

Descartes’s philosophy: can’t say how or why, but by God I love Descartes

Spanish and, more particularly, Andalusian culture and heritage: this will be evident at the very end of The Kinship Chronicles. It’ll potentially traumatise some people, but that doesn’t erase the fact that I think my culture’s beautiful and that I’m forever grateful that I get to experience it

Roman law: my inner law student took the reins. The XII Tables my beloved

[bondagebimbo]

the time has come once again for me to ask my favorites questions to get to know them better 🖤

1. what is a scent that reminds you of a happy memory?

2. are you most drawn to the forest, the ocean, the mountains or the desert?

3. do you have any go-to comfort foods?

4. what are five things you love about yourself?

5. what is your favorite horror movie franchise or series?

6. is there a song that gives you goosebumps every time you listen to it?

7. if you could magically learn a new language, which would you choose?

no pressure to answer, beautiful! i hope you have a wonderful day 🤗

hiiii honey!!!! not pressured at all!!! I love being asked things that are more thought provoking like this!!! I just hope my answers are satisfying lol

1. my old great grandmothers very light rose scented perfume. I still smell it around my mom’s house occasionally from time to time when I’m over there (she lived with us before she passed, despite her death being almost 12 years ago now) and it’s a really relaxing and comforting scent to catch a whiff of when I’m over and manage to, just in general, because my mom doesn’t have a bottle of it in the house so we take it as a sign that she’s visiting from wherever she is. so it brings back a lot of good memories with her when I catch that scent anywhere in public or whenever I’m stressed out because she always used to help calm my panic attacks when I was young. losing that woman did a number on me, honestly.

2. mountains/forest combination, hands downnnn. throw me in the PNW and watch me flourish as a newfound cryptid 😭😭😭

3. steak 😅 I love a good fuckin steak ONLY if it’s rare as hell. anything more done than mid rare and I cannot stomach it. gotta be blue rare/rare for me lol.

4. oh please don’t ask me this when I’m already feeling not great about myself, I can’t think of a single thing right now, I’m so sorry about this one 😭

5. Silence of the Lambs, if I’m being dead honest. Hannibal Lector could get it (and so could the Mads Mikkleson show adaption, not just Anthony Hopkins lol 🥵)

6.

HEAR ME OUT OKAY: just the fucking INTRO makes me shiver and makes my nipples hard, like, not even hitting vocals. once it gets to that point, I’m already a puddle ngl. this song just does it for me. Maria Brink x Motionless in White is the best crossover tbh.

7. I already know Latin, but I want to learn Italian, Russian, French, god. thinking about it, I’d be content to learn ANY other language tbh. I have an insatiable thirst for knowledge and it’s def triggered by wanting to learn every language I possibly can, lmao 😅

[lesvegas]

ritchie’s🎃💀 ABCs of Horror Movie Marathon!! 💀🎃

Horror movie challenge prompted by @quintsmachete

Day Twelve - L is for Let The Right One In (2008)

This movie sat in the back of my mind as one that I should 'probably watch' some day, along with Silence of the Lambs and another horror movie I can't remember the name of for one reason that I'm only a little ashamed to admit: my first exposure to their existence was crossover fanfictions that were just the plots of said movies but with characters from whatever I was hyperfixated on at the time. With the SotL fic I could remember bits and pieces, but with the fic based off this movie? I have no fucking clue.

I honestly assumed this movie might be boring because I could only remember the fic being boring, or something I wasn't ready for just yet. I'm really glad I and my younger self were wrong.

The first thing that fascinated me about this movie was just how quiet it was. There's no background music at all until the first 'vampire attack', and then the music just serves to emphasize what a disruption to life it is. There's more music following that scene, but the majority of moments are backed by silence and atmosphere, leaving many scenes feeling oddly calm and reflective; inviting you to think about what everything means rather than telling you how to feel. It also makes the first 20 minutes or so feel like the calm before the storm.

Speaking of atmosphere, it's peak bleakness. Everything feels desaturated, emphasizing the cold winter nights most scenes take place during, and everyone from the child protagonists to the adults in their lives feel incredibly lonely. It all adds up to a very unique vibe I've never experienced in a movie before, and I loved every second of it.

About midway through the movie, I started to finally realize why there was a crossover fic based on this movie in the first place: the protagonists, Oskar and Eli, are really, really cute together. Their friendship turned childhood romance felt very real and the kids who played them were fantastic actors. I really enjoyed seeing them get closer and near the end I was honestly kind of dreading an unhappy ending for either one of them.

It's almost easy to forget that this is a vampire movie. It's not really about vampirism, even though it uses some classic vampire lore I haven't seen in a while. Despite that, I think this is easily one of my favourite vampire movies of all time. I can't think of any other media that explores the unique challenges a child vampire would face to this degree, and certainly not one where said child clearly wants nothing to do with her condition and sees no advantages to having it.

There's only one more thing I really feel the need to touch on here, but I don't even want to spoil it. All I'm gonna say is it handles one type of subject matter way better than its source material, especially for a movie from 2008. Honestly, if you're at all interested in this movie (and I have to assume you are if you've read this at all), you should just go give it a watch.

I've been saving the blood drop emoji for a movie that's worth it, and this one gets five of 'em 🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

[legofanguy]

TMNT Victorian AU

A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Victorian AU for @augustwritingchallenge event AU August 2024 day 26 Victoria Era. I know that it would be wrong to add a fifth turtle to the usual four men team, but I found a way to work around Venus name by making Splinter got the name ideas from a book on the Renaissance.

New York City has been slowly become the America's version of London after the horrors of the Civil War during this era known as the Victorian Era, with many coming to move into the city to make a living in the great city, despite the increase in crime. There are rumors that begins to formed in the city of five green creatures that walk like men but they disappear into the night like ninja of Japanese legends. The public worry these green creatures as break ins of factories begins to increase, threating the jobs of workers.

On a nice day in the city and inside a building, April O'Neil watched as her boss Baxter Stockman, a African American inventor, said to a board of businessmen, "Gentlemen, this city is starting to have a rat problem, and I, Baxter Stockman, hold the answer to that problem." Placing a strange knee high machine with a head with sharp teeth and two legs on the table, Baxter said to the businessmen, "I give you the Mouser. My assistant April O'Neil will aid me in showing you how its works." April bring in the mouse maze and the rat on the table and Baxter turn on the Mouser, which let out a machined meow as it goes after the rat, chewing through the maze walls with its steel jaws, until its caught it, to the shock of the businessmen. After turning off the Mouser, Baxter said to the businessmen, "The Mouser is the perfect rat killer as you can see, gentlemen, but this lone Mouser couldn't deal with our city rat problem by itself, so I wish to buy one of your factories to build a unit of Mousers to deal with the rats. Do you gentlemen agree?" and the businessmen look at each around with worry that they would cut the usual work of their steels to make sure killer machines.

April and Baxter left the building with the red hair woman saying to her boss, "I guess that they has not chosen yet, Mr. Stockman." and a upset Baxter said, "Oh, they will, Mrs. O'Neil. They will accept me. I will be among the greatest men of science in the history books with my Mousers. Mark my words, Mrs. O'Neil." Baxter said as he start to leave, "I must return to my office for some time. I think you should head home yourself." and April nod her head to Baxter and head home.

As April enter the poor neighborhood where she lived, a group of men with purple tattoos of dragons walk in front of her and their leader said with a smile, "Hey there, leader. Are you lost? Why don't you come with me and the boys?" and the scared April said, "Sorry, I must get going." and try to leave before one of them grab her arm. "Don't you go anywhere unless we said so." said the man holding April and she realized the danger she is in as the men drag her to a alley. Just then, the man holding April got hit by a stick and the user, hidden in the shadows, said to him, "Leave the lady alone, buddy." The other criminals see the light of steel as four ninja figures surrounded them with the leader saying, "I don't know who you are, but this is Purple Dragon territory, and no one mess with us." The Purple Dragons try to attack only for the five ninjas to defeat them along with using their weapons to disarm them, and soon round up the defeated criminals in a pile and their leader said, "I'm sure we should leave them for the police to pick them up." April walk up to the ninjas and said to them, "Thank you." and one of them turn and step forward to the sunlight, revealing the ninja to be a anthro female turtle wearing a white headband and a pair of tessen on her hands whose said to April, "You are welcome." April was shocked and said, "Y-Y... You are not human...." before she faint and the other ninjas, whose are anthro turtles with differenent colored headbands and different weapons, walk up to April and the turtle in blue said, "She has seen us. We have to bring her to Master Splinter."

As April wake up, she find herself in somekind of underground lair and ask herself, "Where am I?" and see the five turtles sitting at a table as the turtles wearing a orange handband said, "Hey, she is awake. Can we keep her?" and a older male voice said, "No, Michelangelo. She is our guest here." The five turtles then said, "Hai, sensai." and April see a anthro gray fur rat in a purple kimono with a walking stick come out of a room, which shock her, while he said to her, "Greetings, young one. Don't be afraid. My name is Splinter, and me and my children are friendly. We brought you here because of both the attack on you and that my daughter Venus has made us be seen by a outsider. We have to bring you here for our safety." April ask Splinter, "How could you be what you are?" and Splinter answer, "I support I will tell the story of a young man from Japan named Hamato Yoshi, whose story is linked to ours."

Hamato Yoshi was a member of a clan of ninjas known as the Foot and he was one of their top members, but Yoshi want to fix the corruption of his home. When Japan open their ports to the outside world, Yoshi saw it as a chance and ask for the Foot Clan to work with the outside world, but the Foot Clan leader refuse and their son, a prideful man named Oroku Sawaki, call Yoshi a fool, which set Yoshi in a fit of rage that he injured Sawaki. For this dishonored attack, Yoshi was exile to America, where he move to New York City and live in the sewers with his five baby turtles that he keep as pets and the local rats. One day, when Yoshi went out with his pet turtles, he saw a pair of strange men threating a old man and Yoshi rush to stop them. During the fight, Yoshi kick a strange jar of ooze on himself and the turtles out of one of the men hands and it begins to changed them. That ooze appear to changed animals and humans into what they last touch, with the baby turtles becoming the five that you see before you, while Yoshi, whose last touch a nearby rat, was changed into a humanoid rat.

April said to Splinter, "So Hamato Yoshi was.... you." and the turtle in the red headband said, "Look you got figure it out." Splinter continue his story, "After I managed to bring us to my home in the sewers, I understood that the surface world wouldn't accepted us, so I retrain my new body in the ways of the martial arts and ninja, which catch the turtles' interest and so I choose to teach them as well. Soon, with a book on your Renaissance that I owned to make me understand your culture, I give them each names." and point his walking stick to the turtle wearing a blue headband and have two swords on his back, "Leonardo, master of the twin katanas, and leader of his siblings." Splinter then point to the turtle wearing a purple headband and with the stick in his back, "Dontaello, master of the bo and a genius in heart. He has been taken in by your steelworks that he bring in scraps home." and Splinter then point to the turtle wearing a red headband, "Raphael, master of the sai." The turtle with the orange headband said, "Raphael seen himself cool but he can be rude at times." and Raphael said, "Don't make me hit you, Mikey." while Splinter said, "That is Michelangelo, master of the nunchaku. As the younger of his siblings, Michelangelo is mostly not all there." Splinter then said as he point to the turtle with the white headband, "Finally, there is Venus, master of the tessen, and the one whose allow herself to be seen by you." and April said to Venus, "You are the only girl here." which made Venus nod.

As April stay with the turtles, Leonard soon come with food and news paper, saying to his family, "You are not going to believe this." and show it, which April reads, "Scientist Baxter Stockman goes missing!" and April said in shock, "Mr. Stockman! He was building a new machine yesterday! Someone must have kidnap him for that machine!" and Dontaello said, "Maybe whosever is stealing those steelworks factories must have been getting metal to build copies of that machine.” and he then asked April, “What was he building?”

In the cover of night, April and the five turtles exit the sewers and the turtles use the rooftops to head to Baxter's house, as April follows.

Checking out Baxter's place, Mikey ask, "Who do you think want this Sickman..." before she corrected him, "Stockman." and Mikey continue, "Anyway, are aliens behind this?" and Leo said to his younger brother, "I don't think it was aliens, Michelangelo. I find a clue to who it could be." showing a note that read a address.

April and the five turtles arrived at the factory where the address would be and the red hair woman was quite surprised that there seen to be a factory working at night. She and the turtles peek into a window and see Baxter working with a man as they oversee the building of a army of Mousers, and Baxter said out loud, "I must thank you for the stolen metal, Mr. Krang! With this factory, I will build my Mousers and use them against those that mock me, destroying New York in the progress if it come to it!" shocking April that Baxter is plotting to destroy the city.

The turtles clash into the factory and Leo said to Baxter, "It's over, Stockman!" and the shocked Baxter said, "What in the name of science are you?" while Mr. Krang said, "Those are turtles. Mutant Ninjas I must add. Well, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles." and Mikey said to Krang, "Hey, that is a good name of our group." Baxter said to the Turtles, "My Mousers will end you, turtles!" and a horde of Mousers come toward the turtles, whose used their blade weapons since the Mousers are machines.

The turtles escape as the factory blow up as well Mr. Krang and Baxter escaping as well.

Back in their lair, April and the turtles tell their story to Splinter and he said to them, "I see... at least you did well tonight, my students. Still, I think destiny set us on a path, for I overhear the two men whose was respond for us said that they work with one named Krang." The turtles were shocked and Leo ask, "Is Krang behind what we are?" and Splinter reply, "We don't have the whole story, Leonardo, but we must try to protect this city from the shadows, my students. I think April would like to join us." and April reply, "Sure. I can see if I can also get a job as a reporter so I can get the scoop on any crime."

Meanwhile, Krang take Baxter to a strange metal base and said to him as Krang start to take off his coat, "Your factory loss cost me dearly, Mr. Stockman, thanks to those turtles. Now..." showing a brain like creature in his torso, the creature said in Krang's voice, "Let us discuss business face to face, Mr. Stockman."

[narrans]

A Tall and Small Collection | S2.36 | & Everyone Needs a Little Hero :: Crossover :: Saving Our Hero pt. 2

This was bad!

This was really bad!

There were so many questions, and yet none of them mattered more than the overwhelming declaration that Hero Rafter had just been seen and captured by a human!

Raze Pinch, a Borrower in the community, had seen the whole interaction.

He had been watching this apartment for the past few days, borrowing as furniture and boxes were moved out. He loved when humans moved. They could misplace practically anything and blame it on the move instead of the Borrowing community. He managed to grab an entire box worth of straight pins from the mason jar as well as a couple of popsicle sticks. From the pantry, he snagged five Borrower sized bags each of chips, dried fruit, and some of the dried goods like rice and sugar packages.

He had returned to watch from above because he heard the humans fighting with who he assumed was the daughter. Something about not wanting to move and leaving behind friends and a guy she was interested in.

How dull.

The struggles of humans. They get to bring everything with them in luxury and she’s worried about leaving behind friends.

Just make new ones! Borrowers did it all of the time.

He watched in horror from the top trim piece as Hero Rafter, son of Casper and Prim Rafter, boldly walked out onto the desk and made eye-contact with the human. Raze didn’t know who this “Austin” boy was, but what he saw next was more bone chilling than the thought that someone had mentioned the existence of Borrowers to another human.

He watched as Rey, the boy rumored to be one of the “human pets” to a human known as Ashlynn, managed to get Hero free from his trap in the mason jar.

Alas, it did not last. Raze watched the boys vanish under the desk and then saw the human girl drag out Hero once again. Her finger was bleeding profusely as she held Hero aloft.

“That little rat!” she said as she cursed under her breath and began sucking on her wound like some kind of monster. “And you! You’d better not try that little stunt again.”

Raze heard Hero shout in pain as, with horror, Raze heard him speak.

“N-n-no. Please. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but you don’t have to. Please! W-w-we can be friends!”

“Oh, we’re going to be friends alright. You get to be my live-in friend – and you’re coming with me,” said the girl as she opened the top drawer of her bedside table, dumped the contents onto her bed, and shoved Hero inside.

“N-no! Please!” pleaded Hero as the girl snapped the drawer shut.

Raze immediately ran for the Rafter’s home.

He needed to tell them what he just saw.

They needed to know!

This wasn’t good!

This really wasn’t good!

~~~^*^*^~~~

Soren quickly darted through the walls and across beams until he reached the massive elevator shaft. He didn’t have time to wait. After listening to Rey recount what happened to Hero, there wasn’t much time left.

Soren practically leapt down each set of stairs as he delved down further into the community. He swore he could feel their eyes on him as he passed. There was little doubt the Borrowers who attacked him had spread the rumor that he, as well as his family, were human pets.

Pathetic.

He understood their fear, but couldn’t they put together that if something were going to happen to them by Ashlynn’s hands that it would have already happened? Wouldn’t he have already told Ashlynn where to find them? Wouldn’t they already be captured if that was his deal with her?

Soren didn’t have time to explain everything to them. He didn’t want to try and convince an entire community to accept Ashlynn, despite how much it pained him. He was once like them, believing that humans would only seek personal gain if they were revealed. His mind would not be changed about most humans being dangerous, but it was hard to believe after getting to know Ashlynn and Hero’s tales about Sam and Eliza that all humans were bad.

Now, however, was not the time to argue with anyone that humans had the capacity to be good.

Now was the time to tell the Rafters what happened and offer every ounce of help they could spare.

Soren made his way through the walls and passageways until, finally, he arrived at the Rafter family door. The moment he did, however, he could feel that something was off. He heard sobbing from the other side of the door as well as some of the Rafter children speaking loudly.

A hollow feeling sank into Soren’s middle as he reluctantly raised his fist and knocked on the door. It took a moment, but soon Soren heard stomping footsteps approach the door. It was wrenched open to reveal the oldest Rafter son, Atlas, looking angry and distraught. Soren could see the bitterness in his eyes. There was something loathing in his eyes as he looked at Soren, obvious tear stains on his cheeks and in his eyes.

From just behind Atlas, Soren saw Casper sitting at the table, hunched over and his head in his hands. Prim, their mother, had collapsed onto their Borrower made sofa, sobbing and muttering hopeless nonsense that Soren couldn’t quite understand. Cali, Tiron, and Winnie were all at their mother’s side, tears streaking their faces too.

Soren also saw another Borrower who he had seen around the community standing just in front of Casper, but Soren couldn’t recall his name at the moment. He had wild blond hair that frayed out on either side of his head and made him look like he had been in a windstorm. His pale blue-green eyes were completely fear stricken. He looked at Soren with apprehension before backing away a few steps.

Soren didn’t have time for this. He turned his attention to the eldest boy.

“Atlas, I know now is probably not a good time, but I need to speak to your father,” said Soren briskly. Shoulders shaking with anger and fear, Atlas stood aside and let Soren pass. He shut the door forcefully behind Soren, trapping him in with the distraught sobs of the family.

This was no time to feel out of place. This was the time to act – for Hero’s sake.

“Casper,” said Soren cautiously as he approached. “I…”

“You’re here because of Hero?” asked Casper, his voice hoarse and strained. “Because he was caught?” Soren’s fears were true. This other Borrower, whoever he was, must’ve seen what happened and already told the Rafters what happened to Hero.

“I… I’m sorry, b-” Soren was interrupted by Casper suddenly leaping up, seizing the front of Soren’s shirt, and charging forward until Soren slammed into the far wall. Soren grunted in pain as his chest and the back of his head were slammed into the hard wooden wall. The sudden aggression caught everyone in the room off-guard, and everyone seemed to quiet despite their desire to continue crying.

“Sorry? You parade around as a human’s pet and you come here to say sorry? You and your family infected Hero with the idea that humans are safe, and now he’s been captured!” growled Casper. “I knew I should ha-”

“With all due respect, sir,” interrupted Soren boldly, daring not to grab onto Casper for fear that Casper was one wrong move away from pounding Soren into the ground. “But my family didn’t infect Hero with this idea. He came up with it on his own. We’ve been trying to tell him that humans are dangerous.”

“Liar!” roared Casper and pulled Soren off of the wall only to slam him back into it. Soren dared not fight back and merely tensed, trying to fight off the swirling in his head.

“Why would I lie about it?” grunted Soren, now feeling Casper twisting his shirt. It tightened against his throat. “Hero came up with this idea himself. He’s been talking to humans for a while now. He has humans he considers friends!”

“Shut up!” Casper shouted as he forced his fist higher into Soren’s throat. “It’s not true!”

“If it’s not true, then ask yourself why Hero walked out into the open when a human was in the room. Ask yourself if you know where he’s been going when he says he’s helping the community? Did you ask him who he was helping? Did you ask the other Borrowers if they saw him around?”

Soren was starting to see stars swirl in his eyes. His vision was swimming and definitely trying to fade around the edges. He dared to struggle a little against the father’s grip, which seemed to slacken ever so slightly before tightening again.

“You saying I don’t know how to take care of my family? That I don’t know what my own family is into?” demanded Casper. Soren swallowed dryly as his vision swirled again.

“Of course not. Casper, please, you have to believe me when I say we were trying to prevent Hero from meeting with his human friends. Rey was going with him on his ‘helping the community’ campaign to keep him from going and talking to humans,” said Soren in the most factual, level tone he could manage. His heart was starting to pound frantically in his chest though, and every instinct was starting to flex, daring Soren to try and pry Casper’s hands away from him.

“Sir,” interrupted the new Borrower. “Based on what I saw, it seems to make sense. Hero was the first up, and the other Borrower, who I assume was Rey, managed to get him out of the jar. Rey was hiding and looked like he was trying to get Hero to come back. I… I don’t want to side with the pet, but….”

“I am not a pet,” spat Soren. “And I’m not working for Ashlynn to capture other Borrowers. I’m here to inform Casper that we, Ashlynn and my whole family, are doing everything we can right now to get Hero back from the human.”

There was a stunned silence that followed Soren’s statement. Soren swallowed again and just as his vision was starting to darken around the edges, Casper relinquished his grip. He slumped to the ground, utterly defeated, and sucked in what Soren assumed was about to be a sob.

“My son… my youngest son… captured… talking to humans…” muttered Casper. He turned his blue eyes onto Soren. “You said he has… humans… who he thinks are friends?”

Soren, trying to keep himself from gasping for air, nodded and composed himself.

“Yes. Ashlynn knows one of them, a young boy about Rey and Hero’s age. His name is Sam, and he is apparently one of the good humans according to Ashlynn. Sam isn’t the one who has Hero though. It is apparently some girl who seems to be moving out today.”

Casper, looking hopeless, looked away from Soren and glanced backward at his family. In that moment, Soren knew exactly what Casper was feeling – uncertain. It was the same look Soren knew he had when Brady, his stepfather, left him for dead as Soren was trapped in a mouse trap. It was the dread of the uncertain. It was the hopelessness he felt when he was completely alone, forced to endure whatever was going to happen next.

Soren, taking in several more deep breaths, dared to lay a single hand on Casper’s shoulder.

“We’re working on a plan to get him back. Ashlynn is doing reconnaissance now, but we need help. We can’t do this on our own,” said Soren. “Anyone who you trust, we could use their help. If… if you want to help, we are working out a plan to get Hero back now. We’re stronger together. Will you help us?”

Casper looked Soren deep into his hazel eyes. There was still a hint of distrust in his eyes, but it was understandable. Soren sighed.

It would have been nice to have their help, but we can manage on our o-

Soren’s thoughts were interrupted when Casper forced himself to his feet and nodded.

“I won’t ask others to risk their lives, but I’m coming with you. I’m going to get my son back,” said Casper.

“I’m coming too,” said Atlas. “Don’t even think about stopping me, dad. I should have paid more attention to Hero and his movements. He’s my little brother. I’m helping.”

“Me too,” said Tiron.

“Same. Mom, I’m sorry, but I’m getting Hero back – and then I’m going to box his wooden ears for not listening to our warnings,” said Cali. The family approached one another and embraced. Soren turned away, feeling like he was interrupting some kind of private moment between the family members, before they broke away and turned to face Soren.

“If you double-cross us…” warned Casper.

“I know, and I’m not. Now, get everything you think you might need. We’re going right now,” said Soren. He watched as the family delved into their stores for hooks, line, wires, blades, and a number of other tools that could possibly help. With everything prepped and ready, Prim gave her children another kiss on their foreheads before kissing her husband.

“Bring him back,” she whimpered. “Please, bring back our boy.”

“I will,” said Casper.

With that, Casper and his oldest three children followed faithfully and silently behind Soren. Some of the Borrower community saw them walking together, but many of them dared no approach. The air around Soren and the Rafter family seemed to chill their surroundings. There was a sense of determination filling them as they marched up the stairs and into the hallways leading to Ashlynn’s home.

Soren hoped Ashlynn had some information for them because, if not, things were going to get messy fast. At the moment, Casper and his family were working with him. He didn’t want to fracture their already fraying trust. How long would it last? More importantly, how were they going to get Hero back?

~~~^*^*^~~~

Hero huddled in the back corner of the bedside table drawer. He felt completely sick, but he had already thrown up twice out of sheer panic and anxiety.

What was happening?

Why was this happening?

He just wanted to help.

Why wasn’t the human listening?

Why wouldn’t she let him go?

She refused to give any kind of explanation, only to say again that this “Austin” guy had talked to her once or twice about why he made traps. He was keen to catch one and keep it for scientific purposes.

The thought made Hero sick.

The stories were true. He curled in on himself, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, as the sinking feeling of realizing the stories were true really sank into his mind. His mind was moving a million miles a minute, and there was nowhere for those thoughts to go except to spiral over and over in his head.

Hero looked at the seam of the drawer. He had already tried to pry himself out and there was no way for him to open the drawer by running and throwing himself against the seam of the drawer. His bruised shoulder reminded him of that.

He heard footsteps on the other side and the muffled voices of the girl and another human voice. By the sound of it and the way the girl called the woman “mom,” it was easy for Hero to conclude this was the girl’s mother. For a moment, he thought she was going to show him to her mother, but it sounded like they were preoccupied.

“Mom! I told you I don’t want to go! I’m staying right here,” spat the girl.

“Lily, I can’t change anything about it either. You are going to stay with your grandparents while your father and I move,” said the woman.

“You mean finalize the divorce. It’s what you really mean, right? I’m almost an adult! You can call it what it is!” shouted Lily.

“What your father and I are going through is not the same. Now, start packing your things. You haven’t even started. Corban and Aven are almost finished and ready. You need to set a good example and get ready,” scolded the mother.

“Oh, I need to be a good example? You’re one to talk,” shot back Lily. The two of them continued to argue loudly, each accusing the other of not understanding.

Hero hunkered down and drew his limbs in tight to his chest. Terror forced his heart to skip the next few beats as he held his breath.

So, the girl is moving? That’s why she wants to bring me with her? So, she has someone to talk to? I can’t leave! I don’t want to leave!

Hero felt fresh tears drip down his face as he buried his face into his arms, but not a lot came out. He felt exhausted and dehydrated, mouth dry and feeling like sandpaper. The two continued to fight while he cowered in the back corner. Hero knew he needed to work on an escape plan. He knew he needed to try and fight his way out, but Hero couldn’t summon the energy to even stand.

He felt drained and hopeless.

Everything he thought and everything he believed – that humans would never actually try and trap a Borrower and turn them into a pet once they knew they were sentient – was wrong.

What else was he wrong about?

Were people really not as good as he thought? Who else was like Lily? Ready to change on a dime…

~~~^*^*^~~~

Ashlynn stood outside in the lobby and watched as movers negotiated the main doors. She made the excuse that she was waiting for a delivery herself and kept holding the door open for the movers. In the meantime, she paid attention to who was going in and out of the building.

Based on what Rey said, Ashlynn had a good idea of what the girl looked like. Even if she didn’t have a name, she could still be on the lookout.

With each passing moment, Ashlynn felt sickness plaguing her. What was Hero going through? Was he alright? Was there anything else they could be doing to rescue him?

Ashlynn’s head was spiraling out of control when something caught her attention.

“Oh, hello Miss Ashlynn.” Ashlynn looked over to see Sam exiting the elevator. It looked like he had a key in his hands. Most likely, he was helping out with his chores and retrieving the mail. His bright smile was a momentary distraction, but Ashlynn suddenly felt as though she had been punched in the gut.

Sam didn’t know about Hero. He didn’t know what kind of danger his friend was in.

For a moment, Ashlynn thought about disregarding her notion to tell Sam when a brilliant thought came to her.

Sam could help get Hero back.

Yes, it would require her telling Sam that his friend was in danger, but Sam could also be the perfect lookout. He could ride the elevator and warn if someone matching the description Rey gave came into the elevator.

Ashlynn watched as Sam continued to the mailroom and, as he did, Eliza rounded the corner to her own mailbox. Sam managed to dodge out of the way before addressing her in his sweet voice.

“Hello Miss Eliza,” said Sam.

“Oh! Hey there, Sam. Sorry. Did I almost bump into you?” asked Eliza, withdrawing her white stick and bringing it closer to her body.

“Nope! I mean… no ma’am. I just thought I’d say hello and see how you were doing,” he chirped.

Ashlynn couldn’t believe her good fortune. This was absolutely perfect! Eliza and Sam both knew about Hero, and both would care that he was captured and needed help. Ashlynn hesitated just for a moment. Would the other Borrowers approve? She doubted it, but they needed all the help they could get – and they, as humans, were the perfect distraction for other humans.

Acting on pure instinct and impulse, Ashlynn abandoned her spot by the door and prayed that the person she was looking for wouldn’t arrive at that precise moment. She approached Eliza and Sam, who were discussing the weather, and dared to approach the topic that she swore to secrecy.

“Hey Eliza. Hey Sam,” she said, hoping no one sensed her anxiousness.

“Ashlynn? Hey! Seems like everyone is getting their mail at the same time today. How have you been?” asked Eliza. Sam gave a little wave and a smile to Ashlynn.

“Pretty great until today actually,” Ashlynn replied, keeping her voice low. She saw both Sam and Eliza’s brows furrow in the exact same way.

“Oh? Something wrong?” asked Eliza.

“Yeah, and I’m thinking you two could help,” said Ashlynn, almost whispering.

“Ashlynn, why are you whispering? You’re not in trouble, are you?” asked Eliza.

“Umm… I should…” Sam started, but Ashlynn shook her head.

“No. I need you both. Here. Come over here to the mailroom really quick,” said Ashlynn. Curiously, the two of them stepped back into the mailroom, Sam a bit more hesitant than Eliza. Ashlynn pulled the door slightly shut before looking back at the two of them.

Her heart was hammering out of her chest. She felt like she could barely breathe. There was no going back now. There was no time for doubts, and she had to trust she was doing the right thing.

“Okay, I’m going to cut to the chase,” said Ashlynn quietly. “I know you both know about Hero.”

Ashlynn’s statement obviously took them both off guard. Eliza, looking stiff, tried to play it off.

“I… what? What Hero?” she asked. Sam, looking nervous, kept glancing from Eliza to Ashlynn. It was clear he was trying to keep his word to Ashlynn that he wouldn’t reveal what he knew about the hand-sized teenage boy.

“Eliza, we don’t have time for this. Hero told me that he introduced himself to both of you some time ago. He’s been helping other humans around the building, and now he’s in trouble,” said Ashlynn. There was so much that needed to be said and explained, but there was no time for it. Ashlynn felt her chest tightening with anxiety. This was the first time she talked to another person about knowing about the Borrowers.

“You… know about him? But… how?” asked Eliza. She was obviously working through what Ashlynn said, almost as if she didn’t believe that this kind of conversation was happening.

“Hero’s in trouble?” asked Sam, now disregarding the previous bit of the awkwardness and delving into the heart of the matter. “What kind of trouble?” Ashlynn was more than grateful that Sam was keeping them on track.

“Yes, he’s been captured. There was a girl who saw him and now she has him,” explained Ashlynn. “I’m working to get him back, but I can’t do it alone. I need you two to help me. Please.”

“Wait, Ashlynn. Slow down. How can we help? And how do you plan on getting him back? Can’t you just ask the girl to let Hero go?” asked Eliza.

“I wish it were that easy,” muttered Ashlynn. “Apparently, Hero tried to reason with her, but she wants to take him with her. She’s moving out today and will most likely lie in order to keep him.”

“Count me in!” said Sam. “If Hero’s in trouble, I want to help. What can I do?”

“Wait… how do you know this?” asked Eliza. Ashlynn grit her teeth. She thought something like this might come up. Taking a partial breath, she decided to be just obscure enough while also telling the truth.

“Let’s just say that Hero isn’t alone,” said Ashlynn. “Now, please. Will you help me – us – get him back?”

“Hey! I said I’m in! What can I do?” asked Sam.

“Alright, I’m in too. What’s the makeshift plan?” asked Eliza. Thinking on the fly, Ashlynn came up with the first thing that popped into her head.

“Sam, you have your phone, right? I need you to ride in the elevator and let me know if you see a girl who is older than you, but younger than me. She was wearing a lot of make-up and will most likely be carrying something that will be big enough to carry Hero. When that happens, Eliza needs to run interference. Find some way to distract them and keep them in the building. I’ll be down as soon as possible to try and help.”

“Wait, then where are you going?” asked Eliza.

“I’ll be right back. I have to give an update and then I’ll be right back looking for her. Okay?” said Ashlynn. The two of them nodded after a moment of consideration. “Good. Then man your positions and I’ll be right back. Sam, here’s my number. Plug my number and Eliza’s number into your phone. Call us immediately if you see someone. Okay?”

“You got it!” said Sam, looking more determined than ever. Eliza went back to her apartment to get some supplies, undoubtedly ready to stumble out of her apartment and spill everything to distract anyone going through.

Sam and Ashlynn rode the elevator up to her floor and she darted back to her apartment. She hoped Soren would be understanding that she roped them in. They needed help, and there were no better people to ask than these two. The main question now was how they were actually going to get Hero back.

~~~^*^*^~~~

            Soren and the others marched forward through the walls and over beams to get to Ashlynn’s apartment. It seemed like the most logical choice to make it there before proceeding. At any rate, they needed Rey to tell them where to go and how to get to the right apartment.

Soren felt a terrible guilt knowing he would be subjecting his youngest brother to this horror once again. It felt like the incident with Dorian’s friend all over again, but they had all been close and managed to get his friend back before anything terrible happened. Now? It sounded like this human could be leaving any second with Hero, and if that happened he would be gone forever.

None felt the gravity of the situation more than the Rafters, especially Casper. His mind swirled with every terrible notion and the pain of his child being in pain and danger. How could he have not known what his son was up to? How did he not realize that Hero had been talking to humans for so long? What kind of father was he, to not know what was happening with his youngest son? What kind of example was he setting? What were his children thinking of him now?

No…

That didn’t matter now.

What mattered was getting Hero back home safe and sound.

Soren continued to lead the way silently until, finally, they reached the permanent line that led down into the kitchen – Ashlynn’s kitchen. He quickly descended the line and touched down just inside of the wall. To make room for the Rafter family, Soren went ahead and stepped out onto the counter.

Just as he did, he heard the front door close and the sound of footsteps.

“Ashlynn?” Soren called.

“Soren? You’re back!” Ashlynn returned the call. “Boys, do you want to come over to the counter?” Soren heard a faint “yes” that was undoubtedly from Rey. There was a slight pause before Ashlynn rounded the corner with Soren’s brothers and daughter cupped carefully in her hands.

“How did it go? Did you talk to the Rafters? Do they know?” She asked as she set them down on the counter. Soren nodded before he started speaking.

“Yes, and they knew as soon as I got there. Someone else told them. They saw the whole thing happen,” muttered Soren. Rey’s eyes widened, jaw slackening.

“They did?” he asked, shrinking in on himself ever so slightly. He pulled his blanket over his shoulders a little tighter.

“Yeah,” said Soren. He glanced over his shoulder. Did he just see two of the Rafter children duck behind the electrical cover? “They decided to come and help get Hero back.”

Ashlynn and Soren made eye-contact, hazel against blue-grey, and Ashlynn immediately knew what Soren meant.

“Oh… right… okay… um… well…” Ashlynn stammered. “Well, I have a bit of news of my own.”

“Yeah?” asked Soren. Ashlynn nodded before glancing at the electrical cover and then back to him.

“Okay, Soren, I don’t want you to be angry, but I got a little bit of help,” said Ashlynn quietly. Soren’s eyes widened. He suspected this was coming, but he wasn’t sure the Rafters, who were mere inches away, were prepared to hear something like this.

Sadly, they would have to accept reality quickly if they were going to get Hero back.

“Who?” asked Soren, glancing over his shoulder, hoping the Rafters weren’t changing their minds in helping them get their son – their brother – back.

“Eliza and Sam. I saw both of them when I was down there, and they are helping out right now. Eliza is preparing a distraction and Sam is in the elevator making sure no one matching the girl’s description gets in. He’s going to call if he sees her,” explained Ashlynn. “They were two of the humans who Hero was friends with, so… it was easier to get them to help.”

Soren nodded slowly, only glancing back one more time to see if he could see any of the Rafters.

Then, Ashlynn sighed and folded her arms.

“Okay, let’s just cut to the chase, okay?” she said. Soren felt his heart jumped into his throat, and he was absolutely certain the Rafter family was on the verge of losing their minds with fear and anxiety.

“Ashl-”

“No, Soren. We don’t have any time to lose,” stated Ashlynn. “Look, I know you’re scared. You’re terrified what might happen to your son. You don’t know what’s going on right now with your brother. You have a million questions, but now is not the time. I’m not asking you to trust me blindly or saying you need to trust me outright. What I am saying is that I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I’m trying to help. I’m not the enemy. Right now, we need to work together to get Hero back. You can be angry at me later when Hero is safe.”

The entire time, she was looking directly at the wall cover.

There was complete silence in the home. Soren wondered if the Rafters had gone, left so they could handle the situation themselves.

But they hadn’t left.

Casper and his children were on the other side of the electrical cover absolutely petrified with fear. The human, Ashlynn, was talking directly to them. She revealed two of the human’s names who Hero had become friends with.

Casper felt himself shaken to his core. Hearing it from a Borrower and then hearing it from a human were two entirely different things.

Still… Ashlynn was right…

They didn’t have time.

Casper looked back at his children, who looked at him with the same reflected fear that was in his eyes. He looked back at the electrical cover. An entire world was just beyond the piece of plastic and drywall beside him. Humans and danger were mere feet away, but it didn’t matter now.

What mattered was, for the moment, working together and saving Hero.

Casper looked back at his family, hoping he was making the right decision.

“I know,” said Casper as loudly as he dared. “I’ve been watching all of you… and I know you are just trying to help.” His children looked panicked that their father had spoken directly to a human, but none dared to raise their voices against him. He smiled at them in some wise way before turning his eyes back to the electrical cover.

Then, to everyone’s astonishment, Casper stepped out from behind the electrical cover and stepped out onto the kitchen counter. Ashlynn’s eyes widened as she stared at the older Borrower, daring not to move. “Please,” said Casper. “You’ve earned my trust. Now, help me save my son.”

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

::_____::

A Tall and Small Collection

Continue

Previous

A Tall and Small Collection | Soren

ASK ME ANYTHING

::_____::

Everyone Needs a Little Hero

Continue

Previous

Beginning

Prompt

ASK ME ANYTHING

[cannibalcreepers]

Are you familiar with the 2009 horror movie Grace? So: how will our favorite cannibals react to the cannibal girl?

Never heard of it before, gave it a looksie and will def put it on the watch list for this year! 8D Now, for the good Hilliker boys meeting to an outsider cannibal girl 😏✨ -------------

Truthfully these boys did not expect to come across someone similar to them, in fact the three were just hoping for a quick and easy meal when attacking some random people whose car broke down, unbeknownst to them that they weren't the only ones on the hunt. Though the three brothers were hunting from afar, watching and waiting, the hidden fourth hunter was in the small group of people trying to fix their car. This woman had been a hitchhiker, being quite lucky a group of five friends were kind enough to squeeze her into their run down wagon. She was copying their mannerisms of disappointment and confusion on why the car just wouldn't start up after their quick stretch break, didn't help that the driver decided to take a dirt road that wrapped around some thick mountains of West Virginia as a 'shortcut’, which the hitchhiker woman didn't plan on, but it meant that there would be no passerby witnesses. Or so she thought.  She learned pretty fast that her and the group she was with were not alone in the mountain forest when she went down the road with one of the men, the two of them following it to see if they could come across another car or a house, when they were a good 15 minutes away from the others, the young man chatting away with her, attempting to be flirtatious which she played along with despite the disgust rolling in her stomach. Trying so not hard to roll her eyes too hard, the woman stopped suddenly and said in a concerned tone “What was that?” attempting to make out she heard a noise in the forest, moving closer to the man who only asked what she was talking about, leaning to see if he could see through the thick brush, saying he couldn’t hear a thing.  “I swear I heard something, could you just check it out for me, please” She would ask in such a sweetly tone, looking up at him with big, scared eyes that seemed to work as it forced the young man to try and act ‘manly’ in front of the ‘pretty hitchhiker girl’.  She would walk behind him hesitantly, grabbing onto the back of his shirt while he walked towards the brush and pushed the leaves aside, trying to look for whatever ‘noise’ the lady had spoken about, turning around to tell her there was nothing there but was met with a bladed knife being swiped at his face, causing him to stumble back with a yell, grasping his bleeding cheek. She went for another swipe but to her and the man’s surprise, he instead went ass up and face down to the ground when his foot got snatched up by a rope snag, sending him hanging upside down, the woman tilting her head a little as she was curious on who would make such a trap that was strong enough to handle a human weight but it didn’t stop her from stabbing the man over and over in the face and stomach, smirking large as she whispered to the slowly dying man who no longer could scream from his neck being slit, running the flat side of the bloodied blade along her tongue to taste the delicious redness, not knowing there were a pair of eyes watching her gruesome actions.  Curious eyes, piercing through the trees and slowly creeping closer as they watched this strange, violent woman crassly cutting up chunky pieces of meat and scoffing them down as though she hadn’t eaten in days, which wasn’t far from the truth, she hadn’t eaten properly in over a week, mostly surviving of cheap side-road bar food or service station snacks that she stole from through her travels, only really devouring people here and there, never having a proper, bloody meal so she was taking this blessing by the balls and eating as much as she could before she had to return back this dead man’s friends.  Wiping her blade on a clean part of the man’s clothing, and sucking the dripping red from her fingers, the hitchhiker turned to leave only to come nose to long nose with a slightly taller, scraggly, thin hillbilly of a man causing her to take in a sharp inhale and step back into the dead hanging man, making it slightly swing.  The man was rather unpleasant to look at with wiry, unkept, salty-white hair that sat far past his wrinkly and paled forehead covered in scars but was missing eyebrows, instead sporting a heavy set brow that scrunched together when the man was staring at her with piercing blue eyes, looking her over as he was thinking. The strange man reached out with a large, oddly shaped hand which the hitchhiker woman noticed was deformed and only sporting three thick fingers that were heading towards her face while the man let out a small string of chitters that snapped her out of her frozen state. So she lashed out, slicing her blade across his offending hand, making the man hiss and hold it to his chest, face scrunching up in anger and annoyance.  She attempt to take the chance to slash at his face, but was met with the man grabbing her arm midway and yank her close to him, slamming his forehead into her own, a sickening crack echoed and she saw stars that were soon swallowed in darkness.  When the woman awoke, she hazily looked around to see she was in a dingy-looking shack, her hands bounded above her head on a creaking, smelly bed. She grit her teeth and tried to test out how tight the roped restraints were but she was having no luck, a loud thwack followed by a wet squelch and snap caught her attention, looking to her side to see three large men surrounding a table that had half a bloodied body, seeing familiar clothing on the body showed that it was one of the young people who she hitchhiked with and friend she killed, along with seeing one of the men with the white hair that headbutted her.  Seeing as her feet weren’t bound, she tried to quietly pull them closer to her as a way to sit herself up, but the creaking of the strain she put on the bed didn’t go unheard as there was nothing but silence, slowly turning her head to look at the men that were staring back at the woman, her mouth going dry, not wanting to make a noise.  The first to move was the largest, but all he did was snort and turned back to brutalizing the dead persons arm from their body, while the shortest was slicing off pieces from the body, placing them on a cracked yellowed plate, making his way over to her with a toothy smile, the third man, the middle-sized one that was hunching slightly, just stared with his single eye, wide and curious as he was slowly putting a slice off flesh into his mouth, as though he was too shy to come over.  She wanted to lean away when the short man came over and sat on the side of the bed, chittering and giggling away as he grabbed a thin piece of bleeding human meat and held it close to her face, motioning for her to take a bite. She didn’t need to be a brainiac to know that she was in the presence of dangerous people, though it seemed them and her were similar in a way, she eyed the meat and the man a bit, narrowing them a little in a distrustful way before leaning in to eat the piece which pleased the strange man.  The hitchhiking, cannibalistic woman was now these three brother’s new prisoner, for now, it wouldn’t take long for her to have all three of them wrapped around her finger.