#the thing is i hate literally both sides of my family: mom's and dad's

[januaryembrs]

TROUBLE ALMOST ALL MY LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

Description: The ONE time the BAU needs you + the FOUR times you need them.

word count: 24k (what on earth was I thinking)

trigger warnings: mentions of spencers addictions + use + side affects. MOMMY ISSUES thankyou ambassador Prentiss. hostage scene + injuries. mentions of forced/pressured marriage. fem!reader. reader and Emily struggle to bond.

next chpt.

main masterlist.

authors note: We never meet Emily's dad nor do we see a picture so while reader is given a nickname of Bugsy, she still keeps her real name (no use of y/n) and is given ZERO physical descriptors. ALL of my fem!readers should feel included here, let me know if this is not the case! also I don't speak any language besides English however she does speak many because of her mom, so I really tried to get it right, message me if I'm being stupid!!

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

“I’ll make some calls, I may still have some friends in the Eastern countries,” Ambassador Prentiss announced to the room, standing from her place on the plush sofa. 

A case had landed quite literally in Emily’s lap when her mother had come by that morning asking for Hotch, a Russian migrant looking for her father with a ransom note and a sliced off finger shoved through her mailbox, wedding ring still attached. 

It wasn’t every day Emily wished she’d brushed up on her Russian, but today of all days she was struggling to keep up. 

“We don’t have much time, we need a division of labour,” Hotch’s serious face settled, the time constraints making him just that bit more dictatorial, “Morgan, someone needs to go to the Chernus’s house in Baltimore in case they are contacted again,” 

“What about the language barrier?” Derek raised, smoothing a hand over the short scruff of his beard, “We can’t have the unsub speaking with the family directly. He could say anything to them without us knowing,” 

Bugsy would hate to admit she fit the criteria for youngest daughter of a workaholic mother and distant father to a tea, but Emily would say different. 

Elizabeth Prentiss had never been a warm woman; Emily used to tell her the scowl was a side effect of the overplucking of her eyebrows, not the serious nature of her job. Her youngest girl once said her mother’s lips looked like she’d sucked a lemon. Of course they admired her work, but world peace meant jack shit to a little girl wanting nothing more than a mother’s hug. 

Despite the fact she’d pushed away her husband and both her daughters in favour of her career, the one useful thing about being the Ambassador’s daughter wasn’t just the money, but the widespread culture the girls had been crammed full of since they could so much as beg for a sippy cup. 

“Baltimore, you say?” Emily asked Hotch with a somewhat doubtful wince, “I mean you could always-”

“Absolutely not,” Her mother cut her off, rubbing the stress lines already creasing her forehead at the very notion of her other daughter, despite the fact Emily hadn’t even finished her thought.

Emily’s sigh was a reflex, the years of her mother cutting her off sparking the frustration on instinct. 

“She lives right in the city, Mother, it can’t hurt to have her just talk for them-” Emily tried to bargain, only for the sharp mouthed Ambassador shoot her a frown. 

“End of discussion, Emily,” Elizabeth snipped, her manicured fingernails twitching with annoyance, “Your sister is much too young for an assignment so serious,”

Emily rolled her eyes with a scoff, as if the two had slipped back into the role of rebellious teenager and scathing mother without much thought. 

“She's twenty-two, mom. She’s getting her masters degree for Christ sakes, she’s not ‘too young’,” The dark headed woman fought back, clicking her pen a few times as if the spring loaded ink would take away some of the temper Elizabeth seemed to flare up. 

Her mother’s lips pursed, in the way Bugsy hated, in the way that meant she was going to be mean.

“Immature may have been a better word, then,” She replied, and Emily seemed to pause. She couldn’t argue with that. “Or perhaps lazy, or puerile; callow, wild, irresponsible. Would you like me to name more?” 

“Asinine would be a good term; deriving from the Latin asinus it not only means foolish, but to be stubborn and lazy like an ass,” Spencer input helpfully to the Ambassador, only for his bright smile to fade when he saw the daggers Emily stared at him with, “Sorry, I love word games,” He muttered into his lap. 

“Asinine. Perfect, Dr Reid,” Elizabeth said, and Emily could only roll her eyes harder.

Hotch huffed, the victim’s daughter watching between the two women’s quarrel with wet eyes, the ice box with her father’s finger clenched tightly in her lap, the cold of the limb bleeding into his own gaze.

“Unfortunately, Ambassador Prentiss, despite just how asinine your daughter might be, Morgan is right. Having the Unsub possibly speaking with the family without us understanding what he’s saying could prove fatal,” He explained, ignoring the way the older woman’s mouth scrunched in bitterness. They didn’t need to be profilers to see that despite how tempered the relationship between Emily and her mother was, a tension seemed to fall between the women the moment the younger Prentiss was mentioned. 

Spencer was sure he was the only person who even knew Emily had a little sister. 

“Very well, but don’t be surprised when you find your hands full of the girl,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head as she led the victims, a mother and daughter that seemed to cling to one another for comfort as if to rub salt in her matriarchal wound, into the break room to get away from the frosty atmosphere that now lingered around the table.

Emily sighed, picking around her fingernails the way she did when she was bothered. 

“I’m going to hate these next words that are gonna come out of my mouth,” She started with a long exhale, “But my mother’s right. Bugsy is a handful. Just try not to get her wound up, that girl smells fear,” She looked to Reid who seemed none the wiser, “I’m talking to you, wonder boy. She’ll eat you up and spit you right back out,” 

Spencer gulped quietly. 

Derek only chuckled, slapping a hand down onto Emily’s shoulder, “Relax, Prentiss. Your mom’s just got you all worried. Need I remind you I grew up with two sisters? This will be a piece of cake,”

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan. 

Loud, heavy metal music jumped through the wooden door, so loud Morgan worried his three polite knocks would go unheard as the two of them waited outside her dorm for her to answer. Morgan was about to knock again, figuring the music had drowned out the first lot, when the door swung open and a frown the spitting image of Emily’s stressed expression met their gaze. 

She looked so different to their Prentiss, but the way she seemed already scorned by the two of them told them they had the right woman. 

“Miss Prentiss?” Morgan asked formally, though he felt the warmth grow when he caught sight of a beat up friendship bracelet around her wrist amongst newer gold chains, five white blocks spelling out her sister’s name pulling tight on her skin, as if she’d quickly outgrown the thing but hadn’t the heart to remove it. 

It was then that he and Reid seemed to both reel back slightly at the fact she was standing in a large shirt, ratty around the edges, and what seemed to be a pair of men's boxers covering her bottom half, clearly not suspecting particularly important visitors. 

She looked him head to toe with a frown, a dozen piercings in her ears, her hair highlighted with streaks of cardinal red, as if he was the one confronting her in his underwear, before she moved onto Spencer, who’s face seemed to be getting hotter by the second as he forced his eyes away from her bare legs. 

“Are you guys strippers? Did someone send strippers to my door?” She asked, strawberry gum smacking between her lips as her gaze seemed to finish mulling over Spencer’s tall form and returned to Morgan.

“Emily sent us.” Reid said shortly, the music blaring in his ears making it difficult to focus on what it was she was saying, “As co-workers, no-not strippers. We’re with the FBI,” 

He hated loud noises anyway, cringed at the sound of particularly cutting rock songs, but since he’d developed his … problem, the dilaudid had him feeling like someone was clawing at his skull, tugging his brain through his ears.

“Emily sent you here?” She asked with a scoff, looking the two up and down again. They both easily caught the way her face hardened, “Are pigs flying today or something?” 

“We’re here to ask for your help on a case,” Spencer rushed through a sweaty brow, “Emily said you’d be able to act as a translator for us and some Russian citizens who are being targeted,” 

She sighed sceptically, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame, “Any strippers or non-strippers can fraud an ID. Emily’s name was in the paper just the other week. I’m gonna need a little more than that,”

She keeps track of her sister despite the supposed distance between them. Spencer was quick to profile, his mind whirring at all the ways she reminded him of her sister down to the way she raised her eyebrows expectantly at them. 

“Emily was born October twelfth, 1970 at 7:12am, graduated from Garfield High School in 1989,” Spencer said as if reporting the weather, her eyes narrowing in on him all the more coldly, “She attended Chesapeake Bay University and speaks six languages, as I expect you do from moving so often with your mother. She coined your nickname Bugsy from your childhood love of ladybugs, which she said you grew out of by the time you turned eleven yet the name stuck, though you still like counting the spots to identify their species. Your parents split when you were five and your father moved in with his now wife, born September ninth-”

“Alright- alright. What are you, living in her walls?” She interrupted incredulously, before turning her attention to Derek who seemed to hide a chuckle with a cough. “Either you really are a stripper or you’re a terrible friend,”

“She loves Kurt Vonnegut,” Derek held his finger as if to prove her entirely wrong, although not much else came to him. Maybe he was a bad friend, he thought guiltily, or maybe he simply lacked an eidetic memory like the wonder boy next to him, who had been about to tell her how old she was when Emily’s pet betta fish died, “Slaughterhouse 5?”

Rolling her eyes, she grunted at them, kicking her door open for them to enter. 

“Everyone loves Vonnegut; only losers under a rock dislike Vonnegut,” She drawled, edging back into her room, the heavy bass rock growing in volume as they followed her in, “I’ll be ready in a second- Emily’s always bugging me about wearing pants,” She said vaguely, scanning around the dirty dorm, until she found one particular pair of jeans laying half under her bed, quickly yanking them up her legs. “Come in, come in.” 

She flicked the speakers way down to which Spencer took a breath of relief. His eyes fell to the laptop that had been set up on her desk, the five different textbooks littered around the spare space, energy drinks and empty mugs filling the cracks where he could barely see the generic white of the table top, his nose crinkling. About as gross as he’d expect from a college student. 

“Emily said your Russian was pretty good,” Derek made conversation, his eyes wandering over the various posters plastered over her walls, some fraying round the edges from where she had likely been moved from bedroom to bedroom when the Prentiss’s inevitably had to move country again. 

“Yeah,” She snarked, pulling a nicer top over her head, “Kinda tends to happen when you live in Russia,”

Morgan raised his eyebrows to Spencer who seemed to give him the same look back, though the latter was biting back a snicker at her words. 

How in the hell was she the Ambassador’s daughter?

–

“This all involves Russian Mafia, it’s really beefed up here the last ten years or so,” Agent Cramer, a tall, slim man who looked entirely overwhelmed by the workload on his shoulders reported, as she listened intently. 

She had been somewhat de-briefed in the car, Emily messaging her for the first time since Christmas, the message a simple: “Have you met with Morgan and Reid yet? Make sure to put on pants,” to which she sent her a thumbs up emoji. She didn’t have much to say to her at the moment, barely even knew her sister anymore. 

“It started off mainly in New York and LA but they send lieutenants from the old country,” Cramer went on, and she caught Reid scratching his arm beneath his shirt. She knew it was mozzy weather, and he was already under the blaring sun in a little sweater, it wouldn’t surprise her if he felt a bit prickly. 

“Pahkans,” She interrupted, the man named Gideon shooting her a glance as she dug through her purse. 

“Your Mom do much work about the Mafia?” He asked, as she produced a clear nail varnish. 

“Here and there, I had to sit with her in her office for a whole Summer once when I got caught sneaking out. Picked up a few things, though,” She said, holding the polish out to Spencer, nodding to his arm, “Here. Supposed to help bug bites,”

He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, perhaps question her sources for such an old wives tale, but he stopped himself quickly, taking the varnish out of her hand with a dejected nod. 

“Thankyou,” He muttered, shoving it in his pocket. 

Three months he’d been in this rabbit hole. She had noticed it in a matter of hours. 

“They open up branch offices in other cities. Baltimore, Saint Louis, Chicago, Dallas, the list goes on,” Cramer added, nodding at her words, “They’re mainly offshoots of the Odessa Mafia and they’re especially tough to crack from a law enforcement standpoint. I mean beside being well organised with sophisticated technical equipment, there’s Vory v Zakone to contend with,” 

“The thieves code, eighteen principles they live by,” Reid jumped in before she could, to which she nodded as Gideon looked to her for more. 

“It means ‘thief in law’, or ‘thief with code’. It's a system of repeatedly jailed convicts that have been crowned or ‘made’ with a strict list of ideals, breaking them usually means death,” She explained, kicking a stone between her feet. 

“It’s like bible to these guys. We’re not gonna be turning any of them informer anytime soon,” Cramer said. Gideon seemed to tune the three of them out however, his gaze locking on the house across the street, where a curtain twitched, and a man’s face appeared in the window, watching the crime scene with guilt. 

“Then we’ll need a witness who will talk,” Gideon replied, heading straight towards the neighbour who seemed just a little too invested in what was happening, much more than a concerned third party should be. Though, she had barely noticed, digging through her purse once more for chapstick. 

“So, you study Russian or something?” Cramer asked as she applied it gently, Spencer swore he could smell the cherry flavour from where he stood beside her. 

“I lived in Moscow until I was six, moved back to France, then back to Italy, then Algeria for a bit. Bounced around Europe for a bit longer, but I still speak better Russian than anything else,” She clarified, and she saw Cramer’s eyebrows shoot up, “Military brat except I don’t get the cool discount at the store,” 

“You must have had a lot of friends though, going to so many schools,” Spencer added, and though there was nothing teasing about his tone, she laughed sharply anyway. 

“You’re funny,” She snarked, but smiled at him anyway.

Spencer had never been called funny in his life. ‘Funny looking’, ‘funny sounding’ maybe, but never funny. 

In fact he was so confused by what she had meant, whether it had been a taunt or genuine that he almost missed the sound of the whole street locking their front doors, dead bolting their lives away when a black prius, an expensive one at that, pulled through the street and swerved into park next to them. 

“Guess who,” Cramer bit, her eyes ripping away from where Gideon had the door slammed in his face. 

Detective Cramer aged by about five years when two tall men got out of the luxury car, opening the door for a shorter man in the back seat, their faces thunder. 

“You familiar with them?” She asked, shoulder brushing against Spencer as she turned to watch the men approach, entirely aware of the .9mm on each of their hips. 

“Arseny Lysowsky,” The detective identified, his voice cold, eyeing the two men who flanked the leader, towering over them. 

“Agent Cramer, how are you?” Lysowsky smiled at him, which oddly enough seemed somewhat real, as he also took stock of the three other people around him. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, noting her lack of gun and badge, trying to decipher if she was local or just a very unprepared fed. 

“Lysowsky, what brings you out?” Cramer asked, a tightness to his tone, his hand all too eager to grab his own pistol. 

“I heard Chernuses had problems,” He kept it vague, didn’t reveal too much, and looked back at the victim’s house with a scorned frown. 

“How did you hear that?” Gideon challenged, stance unwavering as the mob leader turned to meet his cold gaze. 

“And you are?” He asked, a sinister smile on his face that flipped her stomach. She didn’t like the tension that had overcome the little patch of sidewalk they took up, and she was quick to notice how Spencer moved towards her. 

He, by far, wasn’t the best shot on the team, but he was sure Hotch and Prentiss would have his and Morgan’s heads if any harm came to her. 

“Churneses said they hadn’t told anyone,” Agent Gideon ignored his question, hands firmly planted on his hips. If he was unnerved by the criminal in front of him, he never showed it, not even when Lysowsky’s grin widened horribly. 

“It is a small community. Word gets out,” He said simply, looking past him to the neighbours house that had kicked Gideon to the curb, “Are you a friend of Gorban’s?”

A second of silence passed between them, neither of them backing down from the moral standoff they’d engaged in. 

“Mr Gorban wouldn’t talk to me,” Gideon admitted, and Arseny only smiled again, flicking a look at the house behind him, as if hearing his dog had obeyed without command. 

“Would you like me to talk to him for you?” The threat was there clear as day, clear enough to have Gideon’s eyes narrow, “I can’t promise something will come of it,” 

“You!” In a second, Natalya, the victim she’d briefly met when Morgan had pulled up around an hour before, had stormed out of her house, her black kitten heels clicking against the concrete, “Where’s my father? He has my father!” 

“Wait a minute,” Derek called, restraining her where she stood, trying to pull his muscled arm from her shoulder, “Do you know he has your father?” 

“He’s responsible for all of this,” She spat, her eyes cold as she glared at the three men with vitriol hate, “Why everyone’s afraid, him and his animals,” She threw a hand up to his bodyguards that seemed barely contained by Cramer’s silencing hand. 

“I am only here to help,” Lysowsky replied, confident and calm in his words, though not as taunting as the agents would have thought, as if he truly cared for her.

A vast difference to the sadistic mob boss Cramer’s team had painted him to be. 

“Help?” She laughed woefully, tears in her eyes, “You’re a dog,” 

“Natalya,” Arseny said in a warning, the way a teacher would to a student, as her breath rattled in her chest through a weep. 

“How exactly can you help them?” Bugsy braved to speak, Gideon and Reid both flashing her a look. She’d always had trouble holding her tongue. 

Lysowsky turned his attention to her then, his eyes running down her figure, still deciphering whether she was armed; she looked much too young to be an agent. 

“In any way that they’d like me to, darling,” He replied, the disdain in her frown clearly not deterring him in the slightest, though again the act of concern held up in his own grimace, “As I said this is a small community. If one is in pain, we’re all in pain.”

Natalya weeped behind Morgan, sniffling as the boss made his way over to her, “Natalya, [you didn’t have to bring in outsiders],” 

The younger woman’s ears pricked up as he spoke in his native language, Spencer’s eyes flicking to her from behind his sunglasses. 

“[Let me help you],” He continued, taking a step towards Natalya, unthreatening yet she saw Morgan tense, his fingers twitching towards his gun. 

“[My family will never come to you for help],” Natalya hissed back, also in Russian, her face contorted in disgust, “[Get away from my house],” 

“[You are not right, Natalya],” He replied, yet again the concern in his eyes was either genuine or very well faked, “[You have made the wrong decision],” 

Taking a step away from the victim that wept with a scorned sneer, he looked back to the agents, noting the way the youngest of them glared at him hotly, before retreating to his car. 

“What did he say? Did he threaten you, Natalya?” Morgan asked, the woman watching the group of men drive away, as if Mr Chernus wasn’t still missing and they hadn’t just bumped themselves up to number one of the suspects list. “Talk to us and we can do something about it,”

“He said I made the wrong decision,” She said wetly, frustration turning on Derek as he pushed her for an answer, “I hope I didn’t,” 

With that she stormed off back into her house, the same stomping of her kitten heels in her wake, leaving the agents to all look between one another before they simultaneously turned to look at Bugsy, questions hovering on all of their lips. 

“What did he say exactly?” Gideon asked without frills, a hand rubbing his brow. Relaying the information, the men’s faces all drew into frowns as they heard Lysowsky’s parting statement. Gideon huffed, turning to Morgan and gesturing for him to follow Natalya inside. 

“Morgan, keep an eye on her, Reid and I are going to Cramer’s office to look over the files,” He looked at her then, worry lines littering his otherwise friendly face, damn near scowling as she looked over at him, “You are here to interpret, you understand? You do not speak to the suspects, that’s our job.” He growled, watching her with disappointment, the same tone a father used when scolding a petulant child, “Do you have any idea how much danger you could put yourself in? These guys won’t hesitate to take you out the second we’re not around, kid,” 

“But-” She started with a bite, though her whole fight left her when he silenced her with a raised hand. 

“Buts are for cigarettes, kiddo,” He interrupted, and Spencer winced slightly, knowing he’d heard that one a few hundred times when he’d first started under Gideon and had yet to mature entirely. Reid watched something rebellious flare in her eyes, and he worried for a moment she might just slap his boss for the patronising tone he took, “Just keep your mouth shut, you’re doing great so far,” 

She opened her mouth to protest, only to then register his words entirely and stay silent once more, appreciating his praise with a guilty smile. For once, she listened. 

–

The grandfather clock chimed to tell them it was merely 11am; two hours until the unsub would start cutting more if they didn’t get the ransom fee, two hours to figure out who wanted Natalya’s family to suffer. 

Said woman paced her living room at the sound of the hour, as Bugsy picked over the knick knacks on her fireplace, a small smile teasing her lips when she saw a picture of three small children grinning toothily at the camera. 

She had never gotten any photo’s similar, Emily being fourteen years older. The majority of their childhood photos consisted of a very grumpy teenager holding her baby sister that seemed to squirm in the tight, formal dresses Elizabeth Prentiss had forced them into, identical scowls on their faces as they were made to sit for the picture. 

There were some good memories, ones where Emily let herself be a sister and not a mom, where she would put makeup on her for fun and do her hair, let her have all the clothes out her wardrobe she thought looked nice, reading to her before bed, even letting her sister keep her pet corn snake when she left home for good. 

But now, it seemed like she was too caught up in her super serious grown up job to give a shit that her sister lived just an hour away. Still messaged each other for holidays, but the last few times she’d braved a call to the eldest Prentiss, it had gone unanswered. They argued the majority of the time they spoke, or there was an awkward long silence in between words, whichever was worse, but they each knew the other would come running if they were to ever need them so desperately. 

“Are you hungry? I could make something?” Natalya offered kindly, Derek having a poke through her collection of books that sat on the end table, though he’d have a tough job reading them as she’d already caught most of them were in her home language. 

“Oh, no thanks. I’m fine,” He replied with a small smile, putting down the books to calm the clearly on edge woman that looked to the twenty-something year old hopefully. 

She shook her head, “I’m good, thanks,” which seemed to deflate her entirely as she sat next to Derek with a sigh.

“I guess I’m like my mother. When she’s upset, she cooks,” Natalya said with a sad huff of a laugh, running a hand through her short, dark hair. 

“Yeah, mine does too. I think that’s just a mom thing,” He replied, and Bugsy felt the two of them look at her as her finger traced the old brass ornaments gently, “How about you, baby Prentiss?” 

She snorted, “You’re kidding, right?” smiling bitterly, “My mom never cooked for us, she said we needed to figure it out for ourselves rather than relying on the staff. Didn’t stop her from trying to end world hunger though,” 

It wasn’t lost to Morgan the way her eyes trained on the picture of Natalya and her mother, cuddled together with genuine love in their embrace, the snarky humour as she spoke, the same longing Emily seemed almost too good at hiding from them. 

“Your mother is a great woman,” Natalya complimented, though she missed the way the girl’s face steeled over, chewing her bottom lip as if to stop herself from snapping at the woman who meant well. She said nothing. “Where is your mother?” She turned her attention back to Derek who seemed the more talkative of the two of them. 

“Chicago. That’s where I’m from,” He replied, watching Bugsy turn away from the two of them to inspect more of the Chernus’s trinkets on their walls. 

“I’m from Dolgoprudny. Just North of Moscow.” Natalya replied. Opening her mouth to add something else, she was cut off by a knock at the door and the three of them froze in their place. 

“Are you expecting someone?” Morgan asked Natalya in a hushed tone, reaching for his gun and heading for the door. 

She shook her head, “No,” She whispered back. Morgan pulled the curtain back the smallest inch to see a small blonde boy staring back, a box in his hands and a bored look on his face. 

It all happened too fast from there, Natalya opening the door for the neighbourhood kid, opening the box to see a decapitated ear, the blood fresh and pooling in the bottom of the box. It couldn’t have been taken longer than an hour or so ago, unless they were keeping the parts on ice. 

Bugsy’s hand slapped over her mouth, Natalya’s scream piercing through her as she shoved the box into Derek’s hands, fleeing to the toilet, and she heard the woman retching. Part of her felt the same nausea settle in her stomach, looking away from the body part with a wince as Derek got straight on the phone to Gideon. 

“They didn’t wait, man. They sent a box with-” He swallowed thickly, “With Mr Chernus’s ear inside.”

Gideon replied, and whatever it was, it had Derek looking back to her. He agreed, hanging up the phone and rooting through his pockets, producing a set of rattling keys, holding them out for you between the tips of his fingers. 

“Gideon wants you, kid. He said they’re at the Little Kiev restaurant, they’re going to talk to Lysowsky,” Morgan said, grimacing as he held the ear away from her, “You sure you’ll be okay to drive?” 

“I’d rather be on the road than look at what’s in that box,” She said in disgust, taking the keys and heading out to the car.

She thought it best for everyone she didn’t tell him she hadn’t yet got her licence as she made her way over to the restaurant. 

-

“Reid and I will do the talking, just see if anything he’s saying connects with Vory v zakone, think you got that?” Gideon instructed her the second she got out of the car, taking the keys and handing them back to Reid who gave her a small nod. 

“We think the reason it was Mr Chernus who was targeted has something to do with the code,” Reid explained, his hands in his pockets as the three of them approached the restaurant, “You said earlier you understood the tenants,” 

“Why me, though? I thought I was just translating?” She repeated Gideon’s earlier words, almost cocky that they needed her.

“Lysowsky would feel the need to show face in front of men like Morgan and Cramer, even in front of Natalya since she lives locally. Between the three of us, he had less reputation to uphold, less so with a young woman like yourself,” Reid added, holding the door open for her to go in front. 

And so there she was, trailing behind Gideon and Reid over to where Lysowsky sipped a spoonful of borscht, as she tried not to marvel at the grandeur of the establishment inside. Clearly, Arsney had money to build a place like this, and wasn’t afraid to be flashy about it either, that much was apparent from the other clientele that tended to their beers around their own tables, Rolex watches and designer shoes adorning nearly every one of them. She hated to think of how many ears or fingers those suits had cost. 

“Would you like something to eat?” He asked, a chunk of bread in his hand dipping into the thick sauce, seemingly unbothered that they were there, “This borscht is exquisite, it’s my mother’s old country recipe,” 

“Didn’t you forsake all your relatives when you swore the thieves code?” Reid asked, which she guessed was hit foot in to get Lysowsky to talk. 

“I didn’t forsake her recipes,” Lysowsky replied with a shrug, looking to her where she seemed to be staring at his plate, “Borscht?” 

She shook her head, her nose wrinkling, “Much preferred stroganoff, mom used to force me to have borscht to make sure I ate my veggies,”  

His eyebrows raised, surprise written over his face, before he gave a short laugh. 

“[Where are you from]?” He asked in his mother tongue, gesturing for the three of them to sit down, though his eyes lit up as he watched her carefully. 

“[I was born in DC, but my mother worked in Moscow for a few years],” She answered shortly, and he seemed to find it even funnier that the near child they’d brought along on their case spoke as fluently as he did. 

Laughing with a heavy hand smacking on the table, he gestured to a nearby waiting staff to come over. 

“What are you having then, borscht for the gentle man?” He looked at Reid and Gideon, the former shaking his head while Gideon nodded with an awkward smile. 

“I’d love a taste,” He said, though any enthusiasm seemed to have drained out of his voice. 

“And what is the little lady having?” Lysowsky asked, his eyes falling back to her, as she straightened in her seat. 

She chanced a quick glance to Gideon, who nodded at her to play his game. She had not expected to be so deep in criminal territory when they’d said they needed a translator, and truly they hadn’t planned on getting her in the field until they realised she would know much more about this than they would.

“Do you have sharlotka?” She asked, returning his smile wearily as he clicked at the waiter who all but bolted to the kitchen. 

“A sweet tooth. I like it,” Arseny replied, shovelling a heap of beets into his mouth, “Our favourite was always Leningradsky,”

“Ours?” She prompted, giving a polite thanks to the waiter who returned too quickly with a slice of cake. She caught Spencer glancing at the bowl with intrigue, the hunger clear on the quiet man’s face. Gently pushing the bowl and clean spoon towards him, he flicked a look up at her, “Apple cake,” She whispered, sending him a small smile, “Really yummy with the sugar on top,” 

“Mine and my mother’s,” Arseny replied, though Gideon and Reid both caught how he paused before he replied, as if he had to think about the answer he was giving; the oldest tell that it wasn’t entirely true, “We didn’t have much when I was a boy, but that was always our dessert of choice,” 

She stopped for a mere second, missing the moment when Spencer spooned the tiniest bite of the cake into his mouth, trying to ignore the way his tongue exploded in the sweet, fruit taste. He hadn’t eaten anything properly in days, and maybe that was why it tasted so good, but more likely it was just the fact that everything sweet tasted even better when he was on his come downs. 

“We need to talk, Arseny,” Gideon interrupted, ignoring the way Spencer pined to go back in for a second mouthful, but chose to hand the bowl back to her with a small smile. 

“We are on first name basis?” Lysowsky asked, shaking his head, and she took a small bite of the sweet cake for herself, “I still don’t even know who you are,” 

“I think I understand something about this,” Gideon replied, his thumbs tapping together, the waiter returning with his borscht, “You have a problem,” 

“I do?” The pahkan titled his head at the agent, the annoyance clear on his face. 

“That’s why you came to the Chernus’ house this morning,” Gideon answered, unbothered as he began to scoop the borscht onto the spoon, the apple cake in her own mouth going down a treat. 

She kept her head down, took tiny bites of the dessert that certainly tasted like a fresh baked sharlotka. But her thoughts lingered on what Lysowsky had said, about his own favourite pudding. 

It made no sense that he would have ever tasted Leningradsky shortbread, not for the time that he was born, nor with the amount of money he claimed his family lacked. Infact, the way he fully pronounced his vowels, the akanye, the stress he put on certain parts of his words, all pointed to the same dialect you’d heard back in Moscow, more central than anything else. 

So how on earth would he have eaten the so-called ‘Royal Cake’ that had only been made eight hours from there, in the town it grew its name from. 

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing. 

“A man like me?” She tuned back into the conversation, swallowing another mouthful down as Gideon took another bite himself, though it seemed the topic had turned sour as Arseny wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin. 

“Four watchtowers and a convict signifies a stay in prison,” Spencer cut in, nodding towards the tattoos branded across his knuckles, “Each one of those crosses symbolises an individual sentence,” 

“Twenty three years in prison in the Ural mountains,” 

But she was still stuck on what it was she was missing. It had been such an odd thing to lie about, particularly when he’d even admitted himself that they hadn’t had much money, so he clearly hadn’t been lying to fake a reputation. 

So why lie?

She was ripped out of her stumped silence when Natalya entered the restaurant, her voice grabbing the men’s attention immediately. 

“Mr Lysowsky. You said you could help me,” She said, her purse over her shoulder and her own car keys gripped tightly in her hand as if she’d all but thrown herself out the vehicle to get there faster. 

“Don’t you already have help,” Lysowsky snapped, clearly Gideon had dug under his skin enough to garner a reaction. 

“I made a mistake,” Natalya replied, barely meeting Bugsy’s gaze as she stared at her from her seat at the table. “I talked to my father on the phone,” 

The girl frowned at her, “That’s a lie,” It came out before she could hold herself, brows furrowed at whatever it was she was trying to pull. Gideon said her name in a reprimand, though he too was looking at the woman as if she’d grown a second head. 

“Thankyou for coming, but I don’t need your help,” The woman met her confused look with a saddened expression, nodding to her solemnly. 

Leave it alone, she seemed to be saying, there’s nothing more I want you to do. 

And with that, the two of them left the restaurant, Natalya walking by his side obediently, her purse tucked in close under her arm, as Morgan and Cramer filed in from the parking lot, watching their only leads drive away without a fight. 

–

The team were quick to head back to Natalya’s home, only to find the ear missing and the finger gone too, the only evidence left of any crime being committed leaving with the victim’s daughter herself. 

“She’s not here, and the garbage was never taken out,” Morgan said with a grimace as he walked down the front steps to meet the four of them on the sidewalk. 

“Her dad just went missing, surely we can cut the girl some slack-” Bugsy words were hidden in a huff, rolling your eyes at the man who cut a glance to her. 

“No, no. When Hotch first talked to us, he said she noticed her father’s car in the driveway when she took the garbage out,” Morgan explained, his shades blocking the way the cogs turned behind his dark eyes. 

“Right?” Reid asked, his own sunglasses now covering his eyes that winced at the brightness, surrounding them.

“Garbage can in the kitchen is completely full, she never took it out.” 

“She lied,” Gideon said with finality, the penny beginning to drop for him too. 

“She could be half way back to Dolgo-whatever by now,” Morgan scoffed, his arms smacking against his side as the lightbulb went off over her head, the final puzzle piece falling into place. 

“Dolgoprudny?” Spencer asked, exchanging a glance with Cramer, “Isn’t that where Lysowsky’s from-”

“Yes, YES, of course!” She exclaimed, grabbing onto Spencer’s arm as he spoke. 

He looked at her with wide eyes, not that she could see since his shades blocked the way, only to feel her shake him harder in the midst of her enthusiasm. Part of him wanted to rip his arm out of her grip, waiting for the sickness to crawl up his throat at a strangers germs touching him, but the oddest part of him reasoned she had the same germs as Emily did, that the fifty percent DNA the women shared negated the fact she was a stranger, just as it did when he met Jack. Jack had Hotch germs. Bugsy had Emily’s. He didn’t feel so sick thinking of it like that. 

“I knew I was missing something,” She said, turning to Gideon, “He was lying before, about his favourite dessert. There was no way he could have had Leningradsky with his mother. Given his age, at that time in Soviet Russia, shortbread was incredibly expensive, only extremely wealthy families could have eaten it. That, and given the Central dialect he speaks in, I’d pinpointed he lives somewhere near or around Moscow, which means there was no way he was eating that cake considering it was only ever baked in one shop at first, one way up in Leningrad, where St Petersburg is now, like nine hours away from Moscow-” 

“What’s your point?” Cramer asked, tired of the somewhat slew of thoughts she’d been saving until she knew for sure what she meant. 

“Before when he said it was ‘our favourite’, I don’t think he was talking about him and his mother,” She explained, looking to see if Spencer at least understood what she was getting at. 

“It was him and his own child…” Spencer finished, as Morgan’s phone began ringing.

“Yeah, what?” He asked, the frustration clear in his tone that they were all still without the evidence needed to pin it on Lysowsky, “You’re sure? Uh-huh. Okay, thanks doll,” 

The four of them looked at him expectantly as he nodded to her, “Garcia just got into the bank’s system, somebody wired 500 thousand dollars into the account ten minutes ago,”

“Who wired it?” Spencer asked, though he was still reeling from the way she’d touched him, the way her voice went up about five octaves and a dozen decibels.

“She didn’t say, but the name on the account is Lyov Fulenko. She says that’s Lysowsky’s wife’s maiden name. Fulenko.” Morgan replied, and her brows furrowed. 

“Why did she bring us into this?” Gideon asked, though the solemn look on his face said he already knew, “Because she needed to put pressure on the other victim,” 

Gideon headed towards Mr Gorban’s house once more, though it was clear he had already sketched out in his head who was their unsub and Natalya’s involvement, he simply needed the confirmation. 

Morgan clapped a hand on her back, “Nice job, baby Prentiss. Those were some mean profiling skills out there,”

She frowned at him, scoffing,  “I’m not a profiler, that’s Emily’s job. It was just basic linguistics really; more a display of how I need to lay off cake for a while.”

The man kissed his teeth with a grin, “Don’t put yourself down. What’s your degree even in?”

She shrugged, picking under her nails for something to do, “Individualised genomics and health.” She said as if it were child’s play, though Spencer’s head shot to her. 

“Biotechnology?” He asked, and she glanced at him with a nod, “What’s your thesis on?” 

Gideon had returned by the time he’s asked, and began corralling the two of them back to the car, “We’re heading back to the restaurant. We need to speak with Lysowsky again,” 

But it had fallen on deaf ears as Spencer looked at her expectantly. 

“Just some new research into prenatal screening, nothing too fun,” She simpered, climbing into the back seat as he nodded with her. 

“I read a fascinating paper on the uses of hCG in a woman’s body-” 

“Reid,” Gideon cut him off with a short glance from the front seat, “Continue this conversation once we’ve found Mr Chernus alive,” 

Spencer blushed, feeling like a kid caught in the cookie jar, “Sorry, sir,” He looked over at her, only to see her hiding a smile to herself. 

He thinks it was then he’d decided Emily had been wrong about her.

-

“You paid the ransom already,” Gideon said plainly, the four of them trailing behind him as he followed Lysowsky to a small seating area in the front of the restaurant. She could tell the whole way Spencer had been itching to ask her more questions about her paper, barely contained as his fingers had twitched in his lap, but he seemed to straighten himself out once she’d reached the restaurant, “You paid all the ransoms,”

“Sit,” The boss ordered, barely glancing at them as he held his strong whiskey up.

“Are they going to kill Mr Chernus?” Morgan asked, cutting to the chase as Lysowsky spared him a bored glance.

“No,” He replied shortly, the look on his face about as grumpy as when they’d left. 

“The account is in the name of Lyov Fulenko. Lyov is a man’s name.” Spencer input, crossing his arms as the boss glared at him, “A son’s name. Vory v Zakone. Never have a family of your own. No wife. No children.”

“Lyov,” He looked at her then, gesturing to her with the glass of strong liquor, “You know what it means?”

“The Lion,” She replied gravely, steeling herself against his dark eyes. 

“No one else would be so stupid,” Lysowsky ran a hand over his weathered face, swigging his drink as if it was the only thing keeping him talking. “At first it didn’t mean much. It was a way of letting him earn his own money. I could afford it, it came from the fund. And no one questions the use of the fund-”

“Where is he?” Gideon asked, his elbows on his knees as he leaned in.

“What else could I do?” He was ignored, “I couldn’t admit I wasn’t blessing the kidnappings, I couldn’t even admit my son existed.” He huffed when he saw Gideon’s face unmoving from the glower, his question still unanswered, “Chernus will be home in a few minutes. You should be there, he will need medical attention,” He shooed them away, with his final words, drink sloshing in his hand. His face darkened, impossibly so, and the five of them looked at him, something sad and remorseful shining back. 

“What are you gonna do?” She asked, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer. 

“Vory v Zakone.” He said heavily, nodding to her, “We take care of our own troubles.”

It was a silent journey back to the Chernus’ house. 

-

Morgan and Reid pulled up to the campus, the younger girl in the back seat almost dozing off with the rhythmic hum of the engine, the evening sun much nicer on Spencer’s sensitive eyes. 

“This is you, baby Prentiss,” Derek’s voice jolted her out of the half sleep she was in, straightening herself from where she had her head pressed against the window. 

“Thanks,” She muttered, rubbing her eyes and unbuckling herself as they did the same, assuming they wanted to walk her back to her dorm since it had gotten dark, “I’ll be okay on my own, campus security should be out by now,”

“You sure?” Reid asked, flicking his watch up to his eyes to see the meagre 6:13pm staring back at him, “I thought they started at 7,”

She blinked at him, her eyebrows quirking for a moment, “How do you know that?”

“Johns Hopkins was my backup option- well actually it was my third, I much preferred Caltech’s curriculum, Yale was my second-” He started, flicking a glance to her where she waited for him to finish, “Not that Johns was bad, there were just better- alternative options out there-” 

“Don’t shit your pants, I’m hardly the dean of the university,” She chuckled indignantly patting them both on the shoulder before sliding over to open the door, “Nice meeting you both, I’ll just get back to my mediocre college with my poor curriculum, nothing like the solid gold bathrooms at Caltech-”

“I never said that!” She laughed again, with her whole chest, at his defensive tone as she stepped out the car, hand on the door to shut it behind her. 

Leaning down to give them both a wave goodbye, Derek’s voice stopped her again, “Baby Prentiss, do us all a favour and enrol yourself into forensics, we need more people on our team,”

Smirking at him, she shook her head, “Very funny. Never gonna happen. I like my little slides and samples, thankyou,” 

Slamming the door on the two of them she headed for the front gates, swinging her purse over her shoulder. She was stopped by a hand on her shoulder, and she quickly realised she’d been too tired to even realise a set of footsteps jogging after her. 

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all. 

Whirling around, her eyes widened as Spencer had clearly not been leader of the track team as he was half out of breath just from the few feet he’d covered, though she reckoned she could have guessed that seeing his lean ribs beneath his shirt.

He shoved a business card in her face as he caught his breath, though it was more just his name and credentials followed by a phone number. 

“I-I don’t have email otherwise I would-” He huffed, scratching his forehead as she frowned and looked at him.

“I’ve never been hit on via business card before,” She bit her lip with a smile, reading over the card again as he choked on his words even more than before.

“N-no, I-” He spluttered, ignoring the way Morgan beeped the horn for him, seemingly in a debate with a ticket metre that had caught him parked on yellow, “If you needed us for anything, or if you needed a second pair of eyes for your thesis, I’m happy to help,”

“You don’t have faith in the dummy that got into Johns?” She asked, and his head couldn’t shake fast enough, though he seemed to catch her teasing and shared her smile, “Thanks, Dr Reid,” 

“Spencer’s just fine,” He said, giving her a small nod and a wave as Morgan’s palm bounced on the horn a dozen times. She flashed him one more smile, pocketing his number and heading back to her dorm, wondering what the doctor would think about the paper due in tomorrow she’d yet to get started on.

+1. The one where you get arrested.

The case had been heavy. They’d felt it in the car on the way back to headquarters. A little girl, molested and groomed by her own uncle, his own wife covering for him. 

His mother always told him love makes you do crazy things, but Spencer hoped that whatever part of him worth loving would at least stay sane by the time he found the one. He was loyal to his team, to his mother, but that was where he drew the line. He was loyal to his family, undoubtedly so. 

Yet so was Emily. 

The call came to the second SUV, her phone set up to hands free mode, quickly flicking to answer the call on speaker, the other half of the team ahead of them on the freeway. 

“Prentiss, speaking. Who is this?” She spoke clearly to the unknown number, her knuckles going white at the wheel when she heard a nervous laugh.

“It’s me,” Her sister mumbled through the speaker, “You wouldn’t by any chance be near DC would you?” 

She huffed, cursing the knack Prentiss women had for showing up at the worst times. 

“Can’t this wait, I’m on the clock,” Emily hissed, her finger edging towards the ‘End Call’ button, “I’ll call you after,”

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up!” As if sensing her movements, she all but screeched, “This was my one phone call, they won’t let me have another,” 

The car went silent for a moment, Spencer’s eyes narrowing on the dash from his place in the passenger seat, JJ also leaning forward from the back with a frown. 

Emily grit her teeth, her upper lip twitching the way it did when she was mad. 

“What do you mean by one phone call? Where are you?” She bit in a cautious tone, though knowing how reckless Bugsy tended to be, she had a pretty good idea. 

The hesitation on the other end of the line was palpable, as was the way she awkwardly cleared her throat. 

“Fairfax County Jail,” She murmured sheepishly, “But it wasn’t my fault, these assholes don’t know what they’re talking about, I swear-”

“Stay there and keep your mouth shut,” Emily ordered, her expression furrowing into a sneer, “And for the love of god don’t antagonise the officers,” 

The agent didn’t even wait for a response, knowing it would probably be something snarky, her mind already racing at what the hell her sister could have done this time, every worst possible explanation jumping to the forefront. 

“I’ll call Hotch and tell him to turn around,” JJ offered, her fingers already searching her contacts for their boss, as Emily sighed through her nose. 

“Tell him not to worry, I’ll drop you guys back to headquarters, make my way there myself,” She said, picking the skin of her nail softly with her thumb. 

“By the time we’ve reached Quantico, visiting times will be over and she’ll have to stay the night,” Spencer pointed out, his own surprise evident. Sure, she had certainly been a personality when they had met, but a criminal seemed a stretch. 

“Maybe it would teach her a lesson,” Emily mused, shaking her head to herself, “Who am I kidding, that psycho would Shawshank her way out of there by dawn,”

“You don’t actually think she would hurt anyone do you?” JJ said, the dial tone ringing out from the phone she held to her ear. 

“Wouldn’t put it past her. She once cut a girl's pigtail off for wearing the same dress as her on her birthday,” Emily winced as Spencer’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. 

“I thought getting swirlied was bad,” He muttered, watching out the window as Emily made a U-turn at the traffic lights. He and the now twenty three year old had been bouncing research papers back and forth for a few months, the odd one every week, Bugsy even once joking it was much more interesting and riveting than foreplay, which had his face red hot at his desk.

She was like that, he’d quickly realised, had a vulgar sort of humour about her, yet he couldn’t help the snigger that came out whenever he’d receive one of his papers back through the mail with pink writing scrawled all over his ideas. The little hearts that dotted her exclamations whenever she wrote “AMAZING!”, the odd time she’d written “sexy ideas, doctor Reid” which he’d come to understand meant it was really good. He’d even gotten back the drawing at the end of the paper of a stickman of the two of them, his hair a curly scribble and a purple tie which told him immediately who was who, her line of a hand pointing at his caricature with the speech bubble, “everyone point and wave at the smart man,” which had made him laugh. 

She was odd, toeing the line between childish and witty, nothing like the scholars he usually worked with, and the writing he usually sent back on her papers were all in standard black ink, his own pharmacist handwriting staring back at him as he crammed in his every thought of her research into the margins. If she couldn’t read it, she hadn’t said, but he liked to think she took notice of it all, even if it wasn’t strewn with stars and doodles and the occasional flirt he knew meant nothing. He knew her from her writing, knew her from her ideas that sometimes kept him up at night thinking more about them, but the two of them hadn’t spoken directly, most certainty hadn’t seen one another since that day with the Chernus’.

Emily hummed, fingers drumming on the wheel, entirely unaware of the thoughts rattling around in Spencer’s head, then again that’s how it always was, “I just pray to god she’s listened to me for once in her damn life and keeps quiet,”

-

“Fucking bitch. The nuns in Moscow hit harder than you,” She spat, blood dribbling from her split lip. She wasn’t entirely lying, but god did her mouth sing with pain as she tried to muffle a moan. 

“You got jokes, pig lover?” The other woman asked, a tattoo covering half her cheek, her nose crooked from the shiner the Prentiss girl had already given her. “Won’t be fucking laughing when I’m done, bitch,” The woman was quick to tackle the girl around her stomach, slamming her into the hard concrete of the holding cell. Bugsy felt her skull rattle, the wind whooshing from her chest as rough hands grab her shirt and pin her down harder. 

The younger girl reached the nerve under her opponent's armpit, the soft of her ribs, twisting until the woman gave a bark of shock, and she took the opportunity to shove her off, climbing on top of her as they both scrambled for some sort of control.

“I got one for you. What’s got a broken nose, a black eye and doesn’t know what’s good for her?” She swung twice as hard, the other women in the cell rattling against the bars as if watching a matador taunt a bull, the air thick with excitement as the two of them cursed eachother out.

Emily’s sigh was audible across the room as the wardens separated the cat fight, the largest of the officers all but grabbing her sister by the scruff of the neck like a feral beast, dragging her over with stubborn feet to where the BAU stood in the lobby, eyes widened at the state of her. 

“You better start acting your age, little girl. Mommy’s not gonna be around forever to save you,” The officer hissed in her ear, manhandling her over to where Emily glared daggers into the side of her head. She knew that look, it was eerily similar to mom’s that time she’d been caught sneaking out of the house, something in the warm brown of Emily’s eyes frosting over into a cold blackness. Fury. 

She chewed her words for a moment, waiting until the man had turned around with a grunt of acknowledgement to the badge Emily had flashed to get his attention, before she spoke. 

“She’s not my mom, she's my sister, dumbass-” Emily slapped a hand over her mouth, gripping her shoulder with the bear-like strength her jagged nails possessed when she was mad, the scoff of disgrace leaving her mouth as her team trailed behind the two of them. 

“What the hell happened, baby Prentiss?” Morgan asked, ignoring the way Emily’s heated gaze turned on him, “What’s got you so worked up?”

“Don’t entertain her, Morgan,” Emily seethed, all but shoving her into the back of the SUV. She looked up at her sister with an open mouth, the guilt flashing in her eyes as she wavered under the pointing finger Emily jabbed in her face, “Don't you even dare,” 

“But-” She stammered, cut off when she saw the glare intensified, if that had even been possible. 

“I don’t want to hear another word from you for the rest of the day unless you’re prepared to give me a good explanation why I’ve dragged my team out here to save your sorry ass,” Emily hissed, and the girl’s mouth bobbed a few times, feeling the rest of the team watching as she got thoroughly chewed out. 

“Wait-” Emily’s hand lingered at the car door, ready to slam it in her face as she rubbed her cuff over her chin, mopping up the damage. Her head tilted for a moment, hoping her sister had something good to say, only for it to be; “He just called you old, I hope you realise that,”

Emily’s gaze darkened, slamming the door shut with an anger she imagined her mother had kept warm for the past twenty three years, whirling around heatedly when she heard a snigger from one Derek Morgan. 

“Damn, mama, hear the girl out.” He said, slapping a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he passed, heading back to their own SUV, “Maybe she’ll surprise you,” 

If Emily was going to bite anything back, she didn’t. Instead she ran a hand over her brow, the group disbanding to their cars now the problem child had been picked up from daycare, except for Hotch who watched the older Prentiss with a scowl, despite the worry in his eyes. 

“Hotch, I’m so sorry, just take it off my timecard, I’ll cover all the costs,” She said shakily, her own frown adorning her face as she felt herself blush from embarrassment under her boss’s gaze. 

“I understand she’s your sister, but this was a gross misuse of agent time and resources, Prentiss,” He said, his gaze drifting to where Spencer sat next to the girl, pulling a packet of tissues and hand sanitizer out of his satchel while JJ rooted through her own purse for a plaster, “Don’t let it happen again,” 

Emily nodded vehemently, flushed with anger, her palms sticky as she wiped them on her jeans. 

“Absolutely sir. Believe me, this ever happens again, she’s on her own,” She replied, though they both knew she didn’t mean it. Emily would never. 

He nodded stonily, deciding quickly that it was punishment enough that she felt so ashamed, he knew from his years of arguments with Sean what it was like to have a sibling stray so far. 

“We can fill out reports in the morning, just get Reid and JJ home,” Hotch said, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder as he passed her to head towards his own vehicle, “And try not to kill each other in the company car. It doesn’t look good on paperwork,” 

She beat off the smile on her lips as she got back into the driver's seat, the air that engulfed the four of them foul as she glared over her shoulder and into the back. Spencer twitched in his seat uncomfortably, his hand still passing over tissues to the bloodied girl. 

“So, you gonna tell me what that was about?” Emily asked, her tone brittle and warning, not in the mood for any snarky response she could give, “Or is this old lady going to have to lay into you some more,” 

The smell of strong ethanol engulfed her nose as she held the soaked tissue to her face, frowning into her lap silently and avoiding the burning stare as Emily stuck the keys in the ignition and started the car.

“Let’s start with why you were there,” JJ input, the same tone of voice she used as when talking to victims, calm and motherly, unlike the pissed off snarl Emily gave, “You wanna tell us why you were arrested?”

“You two really gonna pull the good cop, bad cop on me?” She snapped, her lip swelling around the wound, tongue grazing it softly despite the heavy taste of the sanitizer.

Emily said her name in a warning, her last warning, and she knew better than to push her luck even more, the SUV pulling out of the station and onto the road. 

“I was just shopping for groceries,” She started, fiddling with the bloodied tissue, wincing under her tongue stroke, “Store clerk made a pass at me, I told him I wasn’t interested. So he put a pack of smokes in my handbag while I wasn’t looking; the alarms went off. I didn’t even know what was happening until security grabbed me at the door,” 

JJ flashed a glance at Emily, like two parents deciding an appropriate punishment, the brunette’s lips straightening out into a line. 

“You’re telling the truth?” She asked cautiously, glancing in the rear view mirror to see how her sister balled the mess of paper between her palms. 

Rolling her eyes, she gladly accepted the other packet of tissues Spencer slid over the leather seat between them. 

“I went out for milk and oranges, I was not looking to get picked up, Em,” She bit back, groaning when she felt it jostle the cut, “And certainly not for cigarettes, you know I only smoke on New Years,” 

Spencer looked at her with a frown, and she caught his confusion quickly, pulling another leaf of paper from the packet. 

“Emily and I had a rule after she caught me smoking when I was like fourteen, that we could have one cigarette between the two of us on New Years eve,” She explained, JJ also perking up to hear it, “So that by the time morning came around, it would be last year’s mistake, and it would be like it never happened,” 

JJ smiled to herself, remembering the time she caught Roz sneaking one of her dad’s cigarettes on the back porch back when she was just ten. She remembered the little secrets the two of them kept back then, held them even all these years later. 

“So how did that lead to, well,” JJ gestured to her lip, “That,” 

“Yeah, didn’t I specifically tell you to not antagonise anyone?” Emily chimed in, signalling she was changing lanes as they headed down the freeway for a second time that day.

“Technically you said not to antagonise the officers,” She pointed out, before Spencer had the chance to, shutting his mouth as he caught the glare Emily shot through the mirror.

“Keep talking,” The older Prentiss ordered, as Bugsy sighed and blotted her lip some more. 

“That woman, Mira I think her name was, anyway, she recognised me from that picture mom had us take on Independence Day, the one they put in The Hill, and she asked me if it was true my sister was a fed,” 

Emily’s fingers twitched at the wheel, knowing the status agents and even people associated with agents held in prisons; knowing just being a Prentiss in a jail cell held a big, dazzling price over her head that said ‘kill me, kill me!”

The air sucked out of the car, a look passing between JJ and Reid as they thought the same thing, waiting for her to go on. 

“So then you hit her?” Emily guessed, the bitterness slowly ebbing as she understood maybe her sister wasn’t as unruly as she thought. 

“No, I told her to leave me the fuck alone, but she said you guys sent her brother down for something a while back, and she asked again if my family were all Pigs,” She picked her nails, the blood stain on her sleeve staring back at her, “I told her if she didn’t stop calling you a Pig, I’d make her squeal like one. And then I hit her,” 

Emily tried to pretend she didn’t smile hearing that, her cheeks tightening, lips pulling down as she fended it off. 

“Is that good enough, officers, or will you be needing fingerprints?” The girl chimed after a moment, a weight seemingly lifted from the car as Emily quickly realised she had, for once, not been entirely at fault. 

“I want a handwritten apology to my boss for wasting his time,” Emily demanded, her unforgiving gaze softening when she saw her smile, “And you owe my team coffee,”

“I can do coffee, coffee coming right up,” She agreed, shoving the used tissues into her purse with a crooked smile, “It’s a date,”

Spencers ears turned red, looking over the seat at where she dabbed at her lip gently. She didn’t look much older for six months, but she had gotten her nose pierced since the last time he’d seen her, unless he just hadn’t noticed it before, and the streaks of red were slowly fading out into a blush pink that said it was old, and he wondered if she’d done it herself in that tiny little cubicle bathroom of hers she shared with the four other girls in her block. 

“You finished your stats papers yet?” He made polite conversation, though part of him was dying to know out of curiosity if she could crunch numbers and equations as well as she could in her own labs. 

“Got two more this week, they’re kicking my ass man,” She replied with a huff, and he didn’t think he’d ever been called ‘man’ by a woman before. He knew if he’d known her in college, ignoring the fact he would have been twelve, he would have thought she may just be the coolest person alive, “I miss my labs with my microscopes and watching all the little baby cells move around in the ethanol. Stats are like, just not sexy,” 

He smiled at her as she stared out the window, unaware of the way she’d managed to make DNA sound like a play pen full of kittens. He held off from telling her he found stats really quite sexy, knowing it would never sound the same coming from his mouth.

He pulled a leaf of the tissues from the packet, producing his own pen from his pocket and began doodling carefully so as not to rip the delicate canvas. 

Sliding it over to her after five minutes as Emily and JJ made conversation in the front seat, she didn’t care that the grin tugged on her split lip, the reaction was instant, she couldn’t stop it if she tried. 

Two stick men stared back at her, her hair a close match in texture and a childish triangle drawn as means of a dress, a very tall stick figure next to her patting her metaphorical head, a speech bubble coming from his mouth. 

“Maths is fun!” It said, and she flicked a glance at him, her smile the most genuine he’d seen yet. He just smiled back. 

+2. The one where you graduate

Emily felt the looks on her the moment JJ had mentioned Maryland. The case was a little under their pay grade, nothing more than a stalker, no bodies or bloodshed, but one very rattled woman that had turned to the communications liaison with fear for her life. 

With Hotch and Rossi in Boston helping a case of their own, the rest of the BAU had been twiddling their thumbs waiting for something to come across their desk. 

“This case is in my hands now, and if we do nothing and something happens to her,” JJ took a heavy breath, her eyes lingering on the three names Keri had given her in case of her untimely death, “I’ll be the one notifying her family,”

Derek, despite his own hesitations about using their time for a case like this, caved the moment he saw the guilt on the blonde’s face. 

“Okay,” He shuffled the papers into a pile, Emily and Spencer gathering their own resources on the case and standing from the round table. 

Luckily, one government SUV was more than enough to carry the four of them for the hour drive North, all of them well aware Hotch would flip if they used more funds than necessary.

JJ piled into the front beside where Morgan climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving Emily next to a particularly fidgety Reid. It took all of fifteen minutes of the man flicking a glance at her, his mouth quirking as if he were about to use it, before he thought better and looked out the window, and the whole thing would start again. 

Derek, the less shy about his thoughts of the two men, even glanced at her through the rear view mirror, before he too returned his gaze out the window silently. JJ shifted in her seat, knowing she had to tread carefully around mentioning Bugsy to Emily, particularly after the last time they’d seen her. Emily had said they’d grabbed coffee once or twice since then, but that was all she spoke about it, which left her team walking cracked eggshells at the thought of bringing her up. 

It seemed the three of them were bursting at the seams with the same thought, and it wasn’t until Reid cleared his voice, his puppy eyes stuck in his loop, that she had had enough. 

“Does anyone here have something to say?” Emily huffed, Derek immediately reaching to turn the radio up the same time that JJ flicked the AC on for something to do. Realising they weren’t easily broken, she turned to Spencer who already looked slightly guilty, thumbing at his sweater, “Reid?”

“Did you want to see your sister?” He asked without hesitation, as if the words had fallen out of him, “You know, since we’re so close on this case. It would be a good excuse to-”

“You did say she owed us a coffee,” JJ pointed out, spurred on by Spencer’s nerves, “Wouldn’t mind cashing in if we’re coming all this way.”

“Morgan, do you have anything to add?” Emily asked with raised brows, though she already knew what was coming.

Derek chewed over his thoughts a second, “I’m just saying, you only get to see your baby sisters grow up once- you know, and it couldn’t hurt to see her even if she runs rings around you with that smart mouth-”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on the case?” Emily cut him off incredulously, but received three knowing looks back. She met JJ’s gaze where the woman had swivelled in her seat to talk to her, and Prentiss was fast to catch the buried grief in her best friend’s eyes. She knew it pained her to even bring up sisterhood, let alone watch Emily throw hers away for the sake of a decade and a half between them. It was the desperation in JJ’s face that did it, knowing she would give anything to spend just an hour with Roz one more time, that had her drawing her cell out her pocket and calling the contact with the little ladybug next to it, “Fine,”

As a profiler she would have been tempted to ignore the way Spencer smiled into his lap; as a sister, her eyes narrowed at him.

The phone rang surprisingly only once before she answered, and she heard an unnaturally tame version of her sister answer.

“Emily?” She asked, her voice hushed, worried almost, “You okay?”

Her brows furrowed, “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” She got no more than a hum in return, somewhat agreeing though Emily could tell clear as day she was holding something back. “Look, we’re gonna be in Silver Spring, I was thinking tomorrow we could grab lunch-” 

“Can’t, I’m busy, it’s an all day thing,” Her sister cut her off, yet it wasn’t rude or demeaning like usual. Nervous almost, sad, “Sorry,”

“What’s an all day thing?” Emily asked, the concern matching her words. 

Her sister swallowed on the other end of the phone, before she found her words, or maybe even the balls to actually speak, “I’m graduating tomorrow,”

Emily’s face lit up, the smile spreading fast on her face, ignoring the way Morgan’s words seemed to ring true in her ears; she was growing up too fast. 

“Graduating, why didn’t you say!” She asked, the joy in her tone unmissable, “How’d your papers go?”

Spencer held himself off from correcting her that she’d only done five papers, that the rest of her results had come from theory and labs, thinking better than to interrupt the one conversation they’d had where there was no underlying argument brewing. 

“Full honours, obviously.” Bugsy drawled with a snicker, and Emily shook her head, the smile never dimming. 

“Look at you, y’little superstar,” Emily bit her lip, ignoring the guilt that tore at her when she realised she barely knew what Bug spent her days doing, “Did Mom and Dad get good seats? Oh god, dad’s not bringing Stephanie is he?”

The silence on the other end had her halting, the light in the conversation wavering for a second, before she understood the nerves, the quick defence her sister had been on the moment the call had been answered. 

“Bug-”

“They’re not coming,” Her heart ached in her chest hearing it, “I sent Mom the details, she said she’s in Ukraine this week settling some papers. Didn’t even get a chance to ask Dad before he and Stephanie were off on their fifth honeymoon in the Bahamas until October,” A painful laugh echoed down the line, as if she were holding back the gravity of the situation. 

“Bug,” Emily tried again, picking her thumb viciously, punishingly, hating herself for being so blind to her sister’s troubles, “Why didn’t you invite me?”

“I figured you’d be busy,” Came the reply, sad and tender, the most honest she’d heard in a while, “You’re always busy,” 

“Never too busy for you,” Emily’s guilt tripled when her sister didn’t answer, knowing if she were to counter the statement with hard evidence it would only hurt both of them, “Look, I have some time today, probably,” She didn’t, not even a few minutes, “Why don’t we get that coffee, you don’t even have to pay,”

Bugsy gave a sad laugh, “Sorry, Em, I gotta get my dress fitted today, and some of the lab techs invited me to a party later. Maybe some other time,”

“A party with biology nerds?” Emily asked with false excitement, the air turned stagnant between them now, “Well, rock on, science freak. Don’t leave your drinks with strangers, and don’t walk home alone, and for god sake use protection-”

“Bye, Emily,” She said with a chuckle, the older of the two gracing her with the same, as they put the phone down. 

The car was quiet, waiting for Prentiss to speak, none of them missing the way her lip pulled between her teeth, a bitterness on her face that told them she was holding in something close to sadness. You’re always busy. It echoed around her head, stabbing at her chest to think her sister was graduating alone, no one to congratulate her, no one to pat her on the back and tell her how clever she is despite the fact Bugsy would happily tell anyone just how smart she was on her own. Never too busy for you. 

“She’s graduating tomorrow,” She said to the three people waiting for an update, Spencer’s brows shooting to his hairline. He hadn’t heard from her since her last paper got sent off, and why would he? They had exchanged a few little anecdotes and doodles, sent each other research papers to be graded like teachers exchanging lecture notes, “She didn’t even tell me. She’s gonna be alone,” 

JJ grimaced, “What? What about your mom- or, or your dad, an uncle, someone-” 

“Mom and dad are out of the country, Mom’s brother lives in Mexico with his seven kids, he can barely get a night’s sleep let alone a day off to travel up to Maryland. Dad’s sisters passed away when I was a kid,” Emily explained, running a hand over her face, “I can’t let her go up there alone,”

“So we don’t,” Spencer said, as if he’d never been more sure of anything in his life, “We don’t let her do it alone,”

-

“Graduating with Masters in Biotechnology; Jasper Adams, Tom Adamson, Kristen Afkins, Gavin Agriths-” 

The dean read off the names of the students as she fiddled with the hem of her dress. 

The dress fit beautifully, her make up done to near perfection, her hair styled neatly, she was graduating with full honours for christ sakes. Why couldn’t she just be happy with what she had? Why had she got to be so spoiled? 

Lots of peoples parents missed their graduation, lots of people her age didn’t even have parents anymore, she ought to be grateful her mother was increasing famine aid in foreign countries, all the lives she would save, or even be happy her father had found a pretty, rich new wife to tour every known vacation destination with. Or even that her sister had called her just yesterday and told her in a few words she was proud of her. 

But none of them quelled the feeling of loneliness that blossomed inside Bugsy. The kind that had always been there, the kind that just wanted someone in her corner, telling her she was doing pretty good for a kid who raised herself in all those big houses they’d moved to, who saw the au pair more often than her own mother. 

All those rooms were so empty, the houses so quiet besides for her. It was like living in a cemetery. 

“Robert Lewsinsky. Marcus Linford. Tara Lorence. Katie Macauley.” 

P would be up soon. Each name of her classmates drew an applause, some whoops and screams, one family she swore there must have been ten of them in the back row cawing and howling like monkeys at a zoo, proud of their son for making it. 

She willed a smile on her face, hearing Orla Parkins get called up, and she knew just by the steward that directed her where to stand in line she was close. 

“Kenneth Patterson. Joshua Perriman. Harriet Pimms. Lauren Pintons.”

She held a rattled breath as Renly Prackett walked ahead of her, strolling over the stage to collect his degree, flashing the crowd a wide smile and a fist pump. She had always liked Renly, having been his experiment partner for a year, despite the fact he never washed up after himself in the lab. 

Then it was, her name was called. The one no one but her mother and Stephanie ever called her, she solely went by Bugsy courtesy of Emily. It was a family name, a nice one at that. Maybe it had been the fact she had been eight and her cool big sister crowned her the new name, or maybe it just rolled off the tongue better, made her feel less like a Prentiss, that she chose to go by her monika. 

She tried not to think about where or what Emily was doing, only hoping she was safe, as she began walking over the stage, her heels clicking loudly with her hesitant steps. 

To her utmost surprise she heard a loud whistle echo through the auditorium, a group of jeers and screams of her name, even an air horn signing off that had her almost tripping over her own feet turning to see who it was. 

Surely it was a joke, a cruel prank, she barely had any friends in her class. Acquaintances sure, but no one so bold as to make such a fuss over her. 

Squinting down at the audience, her cap nearly slipping off her head as her head turned to the source, she felt her chest burst when she saw the dark hair and bangs, her sisters butchered fingertips in her mouth with a loud cattle whistle, screaming like a firework right to the stage where she graciously accepted her award, despite the fact she barely paid any attention to the dean anymore, more to her sister who smiled at her widely as she clapped. Behind her, her team she’d met on the off chance, the pretty blonde, JJ, who pressed the air horn a few more times, cheering just as loud for her. Morgan, the handsome one who had stood himself on top of his chair, cupping a hand over his mouth to scream “Kicking ass, baby Prentiss!” at her, ignoring the way other people stared wide eyed at them. 

And Spencer, tall enough to be seen over the crowd even without the help of a chair, who smiled at her, clapping those big hands of his loud enough to reach her, his own whoops never ceasing even as she stepped off the stage to head back to her seat. 

The rest of the ceremony dragged, a speech from one of the alumni and the exit music playing, but she simply grinned into her hand, where her degree smiled back at her, counting down the moments she would be allowed to stand. 

And then she was fast walking down the stairs, amongst the bustle of students, the black gowns flurrying around her as she burst out into the square where parents, fiancees, brothers, sisters, cheered their loved ones, pulling them into tight hugs. 

Her eyes scanned the wave of black hats, landing on two dark eyes, the thick sable hair framing the dazzling smile that awaited her with open palms. All but shoving her way through the crowd, she stopped in front of her sister, the urge to jump at her with a hug shying the moment she got close. 

“Told you. Never too busy for you, Bug,” Emily said, pulling her in by her shoulders for a tight hug. She knew her sister wasn’t one to beg for affection, wasn’t one to let her guard drop so soon, but she also knew she’d needed it by the way she melted against her, the way she chuckled into her hair, pulled her closer. 

“Do I owe your boss another letter of apology for this or do I get you guys for free?” The girl asked, as her sister pulled away, keeping an arm around her shoulder as they turned to the rest of the team. 

“No, this one is entirely on us, promise,” JJ said with a smile as she saw Emily beaming maternally over at the girl, the flat of the cap knocking against her cheek as she squeezed her in once more, “We’re very proud of you,” 

She heated under the woman’s words, wriggling in her shoes as bad as Emily did when she felt awkward, Derek chuckling and taking the degree out of her hand. 

“Alright, lets see the creds, Prentiss,” He held it up next to her face as she shrugged, the ‘4.0’ clear as day next to her name, “Good looking, and smart. Those boys in the lab ought to watch out,”

She grinned under his teasing, “What can I say, I got the deep end of the gene pool,” She teased, feeling Emily swat her ear, her eyes falling to where Spencer held a plant pot with a poorly wrapped bow of twine around it, the soil a little displaced from the journey.

“This is for you,” He said, handing her the small green sproutling, his cheeks blushing as her face lit up, reading the small inscription on the front, “It’s-”

“Dionaea muscipula,” She said, biting her lip as she smiled at him, “This is so cool! Where on earth did- I had a paper last semester on the ways to study their electrophysiology you just have to read- oh thank you!”

“English, please?” Emily asked, though the warmth flooded her chest when her sister threw her arms around a very rigid Spencer. 

Thinking she should grab her and warn her the man disliked touch almost as much as she does, she was surprised to see him give her a small embrace back, smiling proudly the way he did when he’d made someone happy. 

“Piège à mouches Vénus,” Her sister responded cockily, tugging herself away from the tall man, to inspect her new plant, well aware that Emily rolled her eyes at her use of French, “Venus Fly Trap. I’ve never seen one so young, still I should be able to pull some slides on the Rhizomes in the soil-”

Emily put a hand to her temple, JJ smiling widely as she saw for once Spencer be the one on the receiving end of an earful, chuckling to himself when she began dishing out name ideas for the sapling. 

“Holy shit, there’s two of them,” Morgan grumbled, nudging his shoulder into Emily who simply sighed, her migraine already starting as Reid began jumping in with his own thoughts, which didn’t take much effort.

“Don’t even,” 

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

“Tell us about the 911 call,” Spencer requests, flicking through the file himself beside her in the back seat. She had her own set of paperwork in front of her, her pen attached to a clipboard the lanyard around her neck reading her real, honest credentials, unlike the fake ones Emily and Reid were given. She’d been to one of these sects before, invited kindly as part of her research on the effect isolation has on cultivation of crops, knew one of the mother’s well from her last research paper, and had managed to get the group a foot in the door to entering the Separtarian Sect with little fuss. 

Hotch, usually hesitant to allow outsiders in on the job, especially as young and spirited as Bugsy, had to admit it would calm any potential unsubs and make them see the team as unthreatening if they had a friendly face there. He’d signed the papers with a frown that morning, and they were on their way to the little apartment the girl occupied just outside Baltimore, sample tubes stuffed into her pack ready. 

“I believe the he that they refer to is the church’s leader, Benjamin Cyrus,” Nancy, a woman from child protective services, replied from the driver's seat, Emily thumbing through her papers as they neared the compound. 

“Benjamin Cyrus, no criminal record; no record of him at all actually,” Reid replied, watching Bugsy scribbling notes into her lab book, perfecting her report before she had even begun, “What else do you know about him?” 

“The sect I spoke to before, the one in Utah, said he was rumoured to be practising polygamy and forced marriages,” The younger woman said, looking back at him with a frown, “They were much more modern in their beliefs than these guys. Last time I spoke to Marina she was happy there, I can’t see why she would want to move here,” 

Spencer looked as if he were about to answer, perhaps to tell her he was sure her contact would be just fine, when Emily shrugged and turned to Nancy. 

“Do we know who the caller is?” She asked, sipping her now lukewarm coffee out of the disposable cup. 

Nancy’s head tilted in a so-so motion, “Uh, Jessica Evansen is the one who the age fits, but we can’t be sure.”

“Well given their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn’t identify us as FBI.” Emily instructed, handing Reid his new, fake credentials and his gun she’d kept in her bag through customs. “Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.” Nancy nodded, the compound coming into view, the dust flurrying under the car wheels as the road turned into nothing more than a sandy path. 

A guard seemed to be expecting their arrival as he stood, unarmed at the main gate, unlatching the bolt in the middle and opening it wide for their vehicle to pass through. She nodded in thanks, her eyes flicking out the dirty window to see a collection of mobile homes surrounding a large church, a few smaller outbuildings dotted around the compound. It was quiet, not full of laughter like the last group she had been to, the children nowhere to be seen, only a few of the handier members of the flock that were either fixing up walls, trimming trees besides a man sprawled too casually on the steps of the chapel, a bible in his hands he seemed to be catching up on. 

The car pulled to a stop in front of the man that barely batted an eye at their arrival, the safety locks flicking off each of the doors, Nancy collecting her briefcase and exiting the car first. 

She had all but reached for the handle when Emily stopped her, swivelling in her seat to look her dead in the eye. 

“Your job is mediator, you got that?” Her sister had never looked more serious, but then again she did know her almost too well, “You and your field research are a… buffer between our investigation and the unsub. Just try to take the focus off what we’re doing, but do not provoke anyone,”

She raised her hands in innocence, “Got it, jeez, what could I possibly do that could ruin this investigation?” 

Emily stared back at her blankly, unnamused, as if they both knew there was a lot she could, and would, do that would blow the whole thing. 

“You look like mom when you give me that look,” She bit back, leaving the car, as Nancy spoke to the man laying on the steps, “It’s terrible,” 

“I’m looking for Mr Benjamin Cyrus?” Nancy reported, her tight, knee length skirt and blouse entirely out of place amongst the dirt track. 

“You found him,” The man replied, still not so much as granting them a glance of interest as he flicked through his passages. 

“I’m Nancy Lunde, we spoke on the phone regarding the allegation,” She replied, which was the only thing that garnered his attention as he looked up at them behind slightly bent reading glasses. 

“Savages they call us; because our manners differ from theirs,” He said, though it was clear it wasn’t entirely his own words, more likely a segment of his preach he’d repeated a handful of times. Bugsy tried to hide her disgust behind her hand tightening around her lab books she kept tightly to her chest. 

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr Cyrus,” Nancy snipped as he approached the group, pocketing the glasses though he kept hold of the bible in hand as if it was part of his own arm. 

“Actually it’s Benjamin Franklin,” Spencer murmured to the woman, which had Cyrus’ cold brown eyes narrowing at the tall man, assessing for a motive.

“Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid. They’re child victim interview experts,” Nancy introduced them quickly, the two of them flashing their badges, the unofficial ones at least. Gesturing to the youngest woman, she introduced her with her real name, his gaze flicking to her as he seemed to recognise it.

“Marina’s friend? The plant lady?” He asked, face half amused as she fought her lip from twitching into a sneer. Instead she smiled, holding out her hand. 

“That’s what they call me,” She said, shaking his hand, ignoring the way he flashed her a cheshire cat smile, “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by, Marina said I could take some samples for my research,”

He laughed, shaking his head, looking at Spencer, “Women and their flowers, right?” Spencer swallowed back a retort, shrugging his shoulders, though Bugsy’s eye twitched. Benjamin patted her on her shoulder, “Of course you can honey, I’ll find Jared, our head gardner, and you can run along for your research,” 

He said it as if she were lying, that her degree and endless hours of work would only ever chalk up to a few doodles in a notebook, or a garden full of hydrangeas, or tulips, or roses, because she couldn’t possibly care about anything else but pretty flowers. 

Nodding her head graciously, choking back the hateful response she wished to spit in his face, she gave him a polite thankyou, feeling Spencer’s eyes burning into the side of her head. 

“The children are in the school as I indicated,” Cyrus said, turning back to the other three, Emily and Nancy taking off in the direction he pointed, the former knowing her sister was at risk of blowing a fuse if they were here for long. 

Spencer hung back, partially because he had a plan of distraction in mind to allow the women a chance to speak with the children whilst Cyrus wasn’t around, partially because he didn’t want to leave Bugsy anywhere on her own. Sure, Emily had said they were both trained in self defence when they were kids, but with no weapon of her own, he was reluctant. 

“You're using solar power?” He prompted, gesturing towards where the eight blue panels warmed under the Colorado sun.

“We’re completely self-sufficient,” Benjamin nodded along, catching the impressed look on both their faces, “Electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said ‘God helps those that help themselves,’ you look surprised,” 

“No, impressed actually,” Spencer replied, and he wasn’t entirely lying. The system was incredibly complex, particularly if they received no help from outsiders, for as many people as there were in the compound. 

“Thankyou; for admitting that,” Cyrus said earnestly, flicking his gaze back to Bugsy who studied the solar panels, “I’ll go find Jared, he can take you to the greenhouses,”

Thanking him again, he led the way towards the school where Nancy and Emily had headed, as the two of them exchanged a look, Spencer smiling half piteously, wishing he could shake her and tell her just how smart she was and that Cyrus knew absolutely nothing. 

He didn’t miss the way she walked closer to him, or how she thumbed the corner of her notebook, or how she looked back at him, biting the inside of her cheek. He thinks he might get slapped if he pointed it out, but Emily had the exact same tell when she was nervous, which is why he bumps their shoulders together in means of reassuring her he was still there. 

It was only then she gave him any sort of smile back. 

-

Jared, as expected, had been just as condescending and patronising as Benjamin whilst she slipped on her latex gloves, scooping no more than a handful of homemade fertiliser into one of her test tubes. It had been a partial cover, their story, but she had been telling the truth when she’d contacted Marina and asked if she could drop by. She’d been meaning to expand her field research in hopes of stumbling on a job opportunity since she spent most of her postgraduate days reading while her cat pawed at her leg for more treats than he deserved, the odd phone call with her sister much more common than it had been before. 

She didn’t miss the way Jared’s hand fell into the small of her back as he led her back towards the school, after having noted down a few more readings, fussing over the state of the carrots that seemed to grow entirely naturally thanks to the systems they’d been smart enough to set up. He seemed rather bored by the whole thing, for a head gardener, more interested in staring at her legs as she leaned down to identify the fat black beetle that crawled along the rockery. 

It wasn’t until they were halfway to the school that the sound of tyres on a dirt path met her ears, and she saw five armoured SUVs out the corner of her eye. 

She hadn’t even the time to question what was going on, before Jared’s face dropped, the hand gently holding the soft of her back grabbing on her forearm hard enough to leave bruises, as he was dragging her to the chapel they had seen when they had pulled up.

 Emily had said the rest of the team stayed in Quantico, if it wasn’t them, who was it. 

“Whats going on- who is that?” She asked him lamely, her feet stumbling as she half fought his heavy hand off. 

That was when the shooting started. 

She thinks it came from the compound first, she’d seen two men stationed on top of one of the outbuildings, thinking nothing much of it, until she saw clearly now the assault rifles they bore, pointing it straight at the vehicles that drew closer. The whistle of bullets, bangs of the chambers emptying their artillery, and it wasn’t until she heard the doors to the SUVs start opening, more gunfire began hitting the wall ahead of them that she started running. Running fast, for the cover the church provided until she figured out just what the fuck was happening. 

Jared all but threw her past the chapel door, where Cyrus and four other men were waiting, a heavy barricade in their hands, her chest pounding with adrenaline, she couldn’t help the yelp that left her as Cyrus whirled on her, grabbing her shoulders firmly and looking her dead in the eye. 

“Did you know anything about this?” He asked, his calm demeanour cracking when she scrambled for a response, “ANSWER ME,”

“No-no not at all.” She shook her head, voice weaker than she’d like, but the sight of more guns in the men’s hands twisted any resolve she had, “Where are the others- the- the experts-”

“Take her into the tunnels,” Cyrus ignored her question, nodding at one of his men to grab her as Jared armed himself. She felt another callused hand yank on her upper arm, and part of her wondered if that was how men handled all women here, as if they were herding cattle, as she was dragged down into the catacombs below the church. 

They’d made plans for a day like this to come, she realised. 

Her heart constricted at the sound of bullets rattling above them, she hadn't been able to tell in that last moment whether Cyrus believed her or not as, nor whether she was being taken to the tunnels for her own safety or to be questioned harder about the gunmen. 

She could only hope Emily was safe. 

She felt her tongue too big for her mouth as the man all but shoved her into the bunker, the nervous chatter of women and children, some of the more elderly men, as they clung to one another for safety, the scathing remark she would have usually made about his heavy hands failing her as she scanned the room for her sister. 

Emily was faster however, and she nearly yelped again as two bony arms yanked her into a hug, a rare one, and she knew by the blazer and the sigh of relief in her ear it was Em.

Usually she would bat her off, tell her to stop fussing like a mother hen, but today she embraced her right back, trying to note if her sister had any bullet holes in her before she allowed herself the same relief. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Emily asked, the whole thing coming out in a slew of worry, and she nodded, pulling away as if she needed to see the proof in person. 

Bugsy’s eyes were wild, as if she were a doe in a meadow hearing a rifle cocking near. No scratch that, she was a doe being chased and shot at and hunted, narrowly escaping being mounted on a wall. 

“They were all shit shots,” Bugsy said, through a laugh she didn’t quite mean, “You would have done much better.” 

Patting her sister on the shoulder, Emily finally released her when she realised the humour meant she at least had her head on her shoulders. Spencer watched her with meticulous eyes, knowing the shock that registered on her face, knowing it was the same one he wore when he first had shots fired at him. He saw her own eyes quickly check him over, satisfied with a breath of relief when she saw they were both fine. 

“Where’s Lunde?” Emily asked, and she realised then Cyrus had followed her down into the shelter, two of his men grabbing handfuls of guns she had never seen before, likely imported out of country, and returning to the ground level, preparing for more shooting. 

“It wasn’t us,” Cyrus replied, as if that negated the fact their recklessness had gotten the agent killed. 

“What? You can’t shoot it out with the cops, you have children in here,” Emily seethed, her voice harsh and incredulous.

“I didn’t start this,” Cyrus bit back, looking towards his men as they grabbed boxes on boxes of ammunition, “I’ll take the front, you take the roof,” 

And with that they stormed their way back through the tunnels, leaving the three of them to look between each other, knowing this could only end badly. Knowing the only people that could figure out how to get them out of this mess was the BAU, all 1,700 miles away. 

–

They’d been in the bunker for fourteen hours when there was finally movement. The shooting seemed to have quietened down, in which Spencer whispered it was around 11pm and it was likely neither party had a clear shot. She’d managed to fall asleep leaning against the wall, Emily’s blazer draped over her legs. She’d regretted wearing cropped pants, despite how the shade of green complimented her eyes nicely, and she’d been shivering by the time she fell asleep, Emily’s hands stroking her hair gently as if she knew she was struggling to relax. 

She hadn’t realised she was staring at her little sister, frowning even as she slept, which made part of her want to laugh, until she caught Spencer’s tired eyes looking between them, something knowing and warm in his gaze. 

“You know, she’s always scowled in her sleep, ever since she was born,” Emily said, quiet enough it didn’t interrupt the hum of small snores, the odd baby cry that filled the bunker, but loud enough for him to smile at her, “She used to sleep walk terrible too. I’d find her in the kitchen trying to make pancakes with a cheese grater. It’s like that big brain of hers doesn’t know how to shut off,” Emily shook her head with a fatigue, rubbing her eyes. 

“Was it weird? Being fourteen years older?” Spencer asked, his own hands shoved into his sleeves to try defend from the draught. Emily thought for a moment, her hand slowing for a second on her sister's hair, before she answered. 

“I felt guilty leaving her in that house with my mom when I went to college,” Emily answered, Bugsy unconsciously tucking her face closer into the jacket, “I think part of her kind of hated me for it for a while.” She went quiet, the shame in her voice thick as the silence that encompassed them, “She’s never been very affectionate you know? Before her graduation I don’t think I’d hugged her in twelve years,”

Spencer held himself back from pointing out that she had been just as touchy with him since they’d met, and that maybe it was Emily’s own regret that seemed to shut the both of them down. He wasn’t one to rub salt in the wound, not since he’d gotten this job and learned to watch what he said. 

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to give her advice, knowing the whole subject of their slowly repairing relationship was a sore one. He had no siblings of his own, had a mother who loved him despite how much she grappled with her own mind, and he had only known the girl briefly enough to consider her a friend at a push. 

“I always thought the two of you were similar,” Emily chose to continue, offering him a small smile. He returned it, his face blushing at the fact that was a huge compliment to him, “Granted, you roll your eyes at me less and don’t act like I’m dumb, but you remind me of her,” 

“Thankyou, I wish that were true,” He replied, eyes flicking to her sleeping form, the way her eyebrows were indeed scrunched in a permanent frown. He wondered if she was actually angry, or if she was just thinking hard, perhaps her dreams were full of equations or labs she needed to sort through. Either way, he wanted to know. “She’s much cooler than I’ll ever be,” 

Emily snorted, shuffling against the wall to cosy herself, “That’s one way to put it,” She said, smiling over at him as he did the same, his head resting against the wall, Bugsy’s legs stretching out to knock against his feet, and he didn’t mind that she scuffed the bottom of his already dirty trousers. “Get some sleep,”

And so they did. 

–

Cyrus had corralled the whole flock into the church, where the shooting had stopped and the bodies had been removed, stating at the break of dawn that there was a hostage negotiator coming in to make sure everyone was safe before they made any deals. 

She sat next to Spencer, the three of them stiff from their sleeping arrangements, and her stomach churned with hunger. It had been over 24 hours since they’d gotten here, and besides the small bit of bread and water Cyrus gave everyone for breakfast, she was starving. 

“Remind me to never leave the house, ever again,” She grumbled, as everyone waited in the pews for the negotiator to arrive, “My cat is gonna be pissed I’ve not fed him,” 

“Since when did you get a cat?” Emily inputted from the other side of Reid, keeping one eye on the door in case any agents start shooting again. 

The girl shrugged, “I got lonely, there’s not much to do now I’m not studying anymore,” 

Reid watched how she clutched her stomach, feeling his own complaining at the lack of nutrition, “Morgan wasn’t lying when he said you should sign up for the academy. We could always use the help, we wouldn’t have solved that case in Baltimore without you,” 

She snickered, nudging his foot with her boot, “You’re being modest, you would have done it just fine,”

He was a little, wasn’t surprised she called his bluff either. “Okay, so probably yes- but it would have taken us a whole lot longer. Mr Chernus likely would have died,” 

She shook her head, glancing at Emily who watched her carefully, “That was all you guys. I just translated.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged a glance, leaning back in their uncomfortable seats calmly. 

“You’re probably right,” Spencer said, dusting the dirt off his trousers, “Probably couldn’t handle it, high intensity mind games and such,”

She blanched, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head, not knowing him to be so brutally honest, realistic yes, but not bordering on rude. 

“And it’s a lot of work,” Emily jumped in, her mouth a straight line, “I don’t know if you’d be dedicated enough,”

Bugsy scoffed, indifferently. “I have a masters degree, I was offered a scholarship to do a PHD, asked to be an assistant professor at Yale, I can work hard, Emily,” She snipped, and perhaps she was particularly just hangry or they had struck a nerve with their doubt, “and I could do it if I wanted to, I’d have the best shot they’d ever seen, guaranteed- mom made me take lessons when you left- trust me I could do it-”

She shut up when she saw their small smile exchanged, as if she’d told them a joke, or moreso they’d had the same identical thought and that alone was hilarious. 

Scowling at them, she looked from where Spencer looked almost, almost, guilty at making her the butt of the joke, to where Emily had a ‘told you so’ smirk, and she kissed her teeth at their childishness. 

“Are you guys reverse psychology-ing me? Seriously, so original guys,” She snapped, crossing her arms and straightening herself in her seat, ignoring the snigger that passed between them. 

“You’re not wrong though,” Emily replied quietly as Cyrus walked past them, his eyes falling to them with a frown. Bugsy kept her head down, heeding Emily’s warning of not provoking anyone, and Spencer eyed the way she leaned closer to him.

If she was going to retaliate, whether agreeing or not, she stopped herself, the doors the church opening and an older gentleman walking through the doors, arms full of supplies she’d figured must have been part of the negotiation. He was patted down by an armed guard, searching for his own weapons do doubt, or a wire perhaps, as he handed the box over to another who took it without a thankyou. 

“Rossi,” She heard Reid whisper beside her, and from the look he shot Emily and Spencer she gathered he was from the BAU, just as they’d expected. His eyes fell on her, softening as alot of Emily’s team did when they saw the two of them, as if they were picking her face apart for the tiny ways in which she resembled their Prentiss, or maybe it was the way she curled up in her seat, tired, hungry, on the defence. He just looked sorry for her. 

 “The children,” Cyrus said with no greeting, the air between them particularly frosty. He gestured towards the three of them, though Rossi had already clocked their tired faces staring at him with worry, “And our guests,”

She saw him trying not to react, guessing they had not let it slip to Cyrus he worked with the two undercover FBI agents, looking away from them as if the sight of their forlorn figures was enough to turn him sick. 

Judging by the way Cyrus and he spoke quietly, tensely, Bugsy just hoped they had a plan to get them out of here soon as he soon left with a rigid handshake to the man keeping them hostage. 

–

The three of them had been moved to a backroom a few hours later. Her stomach ached, the little sustenance Rossi had brought being distributed to the community before they’d been offered anything, which hadn’t left much. Reid and Emily had tried to get her to take some of their sharing, and despite how her insides cried out for it, she declined, stating they would be more use than she would; that they needed their strength more than her if they were going to get out of here alive. 

The two of them hadn’t liked that answer judging by the frowns on their faces, but they sat in their seats with little fuss as they waited for things to quieten down after Cyrus’ staged “mass suicide” that had turned out to be nothign more than a test of loyalty and grape juice. 

They had been sat in silence, aside from her foot bouncing on the floor impatiently, as she picked at the threads on her pants, the material uncomfortable on her skin after a day of wearing it. The door slammed open, Cyrus entering the room with nasty scowl. She didn’t know what had changed in the man in a matter of hours as he stormed over to them, two of his men behind him, loaded rifles in their arms. 

This was not good. 

“Which one of you is it?” He asked almost too calm for his demeanour, his eyes flicking between the three of them, where Emily attempted to brush her hair using her fingers, Reid played with the hem of his cardigan, an she sat beside him, resting against the cold stone wall behind them, her eyes narrowing at his furious expression. 

The three of them remained silent, waiting for him to explain more, though clearly it was not the answer he was looking for as he threw his jacket open, revealing a loaded pistol tucked into his jeans. Drawing it into his dominant hand, her body tensed up, her back straightening like a rod as she looked up at him through fear. 

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?” He repeated in that same calm tone, and her heart fell through her stomach. 

She opened her mouth to say something in retaliation, though the way she saw his hand shaking with fury, she knew it was better to stay quiet in case her voice would be the final straw that made him trigger happy. 

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer replied softly, and if he was panicking even a fraction amount she was he held it back, though his eyes flicked to Emily. 

But it was a tell. The smallest movement alone was a tell he was lying, or perhaps it was the fact he’d answered a question with one of his own, distracting from the attention on them with the unsubs own answers. Maybe his quiet and calm showed how trained he was for a situation like this, showed he had gone up against bad guys before and won. 

Whatever it was about him, it had Cyrus cocking the barrel of the gun straight at Spencer’s temple. 

“God forgive me for what I must do,” The preacher murmured, his finger moments away from the trigger, when she lurched forward in her seat, hand shooting out to grab his wrist deathly tight. 

“It’s me,” 

She hadn’t realised she’d said it until the room went quiet. She thought for a moment it had come from Emily, Emily had always been the braver of the two of them, but it wasn’t until Cyrus’ unforgiving, dark gaze fell to her where she froze in her spot, that she understood her mouth had been the one moving. 

Emily looked as if she was about to vomit, Spencer looked dumbfounded, but all she could do was stare back at Cyrus as if to will herself not to back down, knowing all three of them could fall victim if she gave them reason to doubt her; he could kill all three of them just to be sure the mystery agent was dealt with.

“It’s me,” She repeated, voice stronger this time, and she felt her chest relax just the tiniest amount as he turned the gun away from Spencer’s head. 

He stared back at her for a moment, before the weapon smacked across her face in a sharp whip, her cheekbone crying out in a sting she knew was going to bruise. 

He grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck, yanking her into a stand hard enough she yelped, despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the torture. 

“Watch the other two,” Cyrus barked, dragging her out of the room as she squirmed under his hand, feeling it only tighten into an unforgiving pull. 

She barely caught Emily bolting out of her seat to yell at the other men, all but fighting in their heavy grasp to follow wherever it was he was taking her, only for the door to be slammed shut behind them. 

It was only then she realised how fucked she truly was. 

–

She struggled to breath through the blood clotting in her nose. She didn’t think it was broken, not that she could check where her hands had been tied to the bedpost, tape over her mouth to stop her calling for help, her feet bound. She’d done nothing but give him hell as he’d been laying into her, keeping her cries and groans of pain silent as he’d kicked her in the ribs hard enough to know he’d damaged something at least. 

She’d not made it easy for him to tie her down, worried about what they were planning next, she’d managed to headbutt him in the mouth, and the way he clutched at his jaw when he’d left gave her a sick satisfaction, though her temple now hurt more than she’d like to admit. But they’d only covered her mouth after she’d screamed obscenities at them for an hour or so, hoping to attract attention, hoping if the BAU were on their way, Emily and Reid would be able to find her fast before they could dispose of her. 

Bugsy didn’t want to go like this. Tied up like cattle, gagged and beaten, the spirit kicked out of her as the dehydration gnawed at her limbs, making her too weak to even try wriggling out of the binds. 

She felt herself dropping off to sleep, or maybe it was a concussion, he’d slammed her face into that mirror quite viciously, she wouldn’t be surprised if it had rattled her head around. Fighting with her eyelids to stay open, she jumped in her battered skin as the door unlatched, and she thrashed on the rickety bed to get away from the impending second beating. 

But it wasn’t Cyrus. A fawn haired woman entered, her eyes falling on the girl on the bed, where blood trickled down her cheek, pouring from her nose like a thick liquor. Frowning, she was on high alert as the woman approached, a small, damp cloth in her hand. 

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you honey,” She hushed, approaching the young girl. Bugsy didn’t believe her for one second, her head pulling away from her as far as it could, her eyes wild and distrustful as the woman kneeled down beside the bed. “I’m Kathy,”

Bugsy debated jabbing an elbow in her face then and there, telling her in few words to stay as far away from her as possible, that the moment she was free she didn’t care who she hurt; she was getting out of here even if she had to crawl. 

“That woman’s your sister right?” The blonde said, and the words stopped her heart for a moment, giving the woman the chance to run the cloth over the dribble of blood, “Emily,”

“Where is she?” She tried to ask, but the gag made it little more than a muffled cry, the woman’s eyes turning down in sadness. Pity. Bugsy hated every second of it.

“She’s okay, she’s worried about you though,” Kathy said, wiping under her nose, making her wince at the feeling, “Put up a hell of a fight after they took you away,” 

She must have rolled her eyes, or perhaps it was just telling on her face that that didn’t surprise her as the older woman wiped over the superficial cut on her forehead she hadn’t realised was deep until the cloth went over it and she yawped like a dog having it’s tail pulled. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,��� Kathy cooed, and she seemed genuinely guilty as she did. She tutted, shaking her head, fighting the urge to smooth the girls hair down the way she did when her own daughter was upset, “Emily said they’ll be coming for us at 3am, Cyrus has a mass suicide planned but they think they can stop him, you just have to hold on a little longer honey,” 

“I want to see her,” Bugsy tried to talk again despite her mouth being covered, only for it to come out unintelligible once more. Huffing, she resigned herself to glaring at the ceiling, biting back frustrated tears. Kathy seemed to want to say something else, but thought better of it as the twenty something year old turned away from her to stare out the window, as if she were being dismissed. 

Sighing, she rose from the bed and headed for the door, praying the FBI would get them out in time, before Cyrus put his plan into action. 

–

Bugsy didn’t start panicking until it hit 2:50. She’d managed to kick the small analogue clock on the beside into working, the red numbers seeming to take a millenia to change over. 

Yet it wasn’t until 3am neared, and the hallways remained silent, did she start to wonder if Kathy had been telling the truth at all. What if they had found out Emily and Reid were FBI and not her? What if they’d already been caught?

She really had wanted to see Emily, wanted to scream at the woman, who had meant well, to bring her sister to her or she would make every damn bible basher in this compound regret the day they were born. She felt helpless. She despised feeling helpless. 

It was only when she heard shots rattling from outside did the cold fear set in. 2:52. Any minute now. 

It was then an even worse thought struck her. What if they didn’t bother to come for her? Reid and Emily were safe downstairs, at least that was how Kathy had made it seem. If they got the women and children, the agents out first, she wondered if they would leave her for last since she wasn’t their top priority. 

2:53 stared back at her. 

At least Emily would make it. She was more important, had more going for her. She was supposed to be an only child anyway, mom had said it herself. Bugsy was the product of a failing marriage and a shared bottle of 1896 Bourbon that had been a wedding gift they’d never opened. 

2:54.

She could have sworn she tore something the way her head snapped to the door as it swung open on its hinges, as if two large men had thrown their weight into it. But it wasn’t two men at all, just one frantic Derek Morgan with an FBI grade assault rifle. 

The relief in his eyes was immediate, and he pulled a pocket knife from his boot, rushing over to where she lay, almost in shock, wondering if he was real at all, her heart pounding as she heard shouting in the corridor. 

“I’m gonna get you out, kid,” The man promised, slinging his gun over his shoulder as he sliced through the rope on her ankles, her eyes trained on the 2:55 that watched them as if to laugh at them. 

She whimpered, cursing behind her gag when she heard footsteps pounding through the hallway, and she was sure they were going to get caught. She thought then it would have been better if they’d forgotten about her, that at least Derek would have been safe, and he could have made sure the children got out safely, could have gotten Spencer and Emily medical. 

Derek whirled on the doorway the same as she did as a tall figure all but skidded around the corner, his legs weak as hers felt, too long and not at all built for running. Clumsy almost. 

Spencer. She should have known from the way he looked white as a sheet the moment he saw her it was him, but maybe she really did have concussion, as it seemed within moments he was fussing over her face, tearing a little too sharply at the tape over her mouth. 

She thinks she groaned, or maybe cursed him out, as he started apologising immediately, his eyes a puppy kind of sad as she stared up at him, Derek handing him the knife to cut her arms free. 

He was talking, but she couldn’t make a lot of it out, just that he was really sorry, it was 2:56 now. It was like her brain switched itself back on when she realised she was free, and the two of them were trying to haul her to her feet. 

“Come on, princess, we gotta get out of here,” Derek said, as Spencer looped an arm around her waist, helping her limp across the room where her weak limbs did little to hold her upright, her ribs throbbing with every step, “We managed to stop Cyrus from detonating it manually, but the circuits are all still live,”

Morgan took the lead with the rifle, knowing some of Cyrus’ men had stayed to look for them, that they would go down with the building even though he’d already shot their leader the moment they’d breached the front door, because that was how loyal they were. They’d proven so already with the wine. 

She kept her groans behind tight lips as they made it down the stairs, knowing Spencer didn’t mean to hold her bruised bones so tight, that he was just worried and her legs were doing the bare minimum to keep them both moving very fast. It wasn’t until they made it within a few feet of the door that they seemed to pick up the pace.

And she saw why. 

Jesse, Cyrus’ child bride that had been the reason they’d come here in the first place was holding the detonator, her face tear streaked at the sight of her husband and prophet dead on the floor, the people responsible all but dragging a lame girl through the foyer and to the doors as if they hadn’t killed a handful of her flock tonight. 

Bugsy saw the moment Jesse decided she wanted vengeance on them, but then, she guessed Spencer had already acted as he slung one of her arms over his shoulder, yanking her out the front door in a matter of seconds as Morgan pulled up the rear, and the two men shoved her down behind the small wall outside the church steps. 

Bugsy expected the bang to be louder as the rubble flew over their heads, the floor shaking with the impact of the bomb detonating, and it was then she realised one of Derek’s large warm hands held her head into his shoulder, protecting her already rattled skull as best as he could. Spencer had done the same, throwing half his body over her back as he covered his ears, the two men tucking into the wall tightly and waiting for the dust to settle. 

Spencer started coughing first, though his position over her never faltered, and she heard his chest wheezing, and knew they needed to move away from the thick smog that blew into their faces. Morgan released her ear, tipping her head back to check her over once more. 

“Kid! You okay?” He fretted, noticing the way her nose had started bleeding again from all the movement; the way the bruise had already started blotching her cheek from where Cyrus pistol whipped her. 

“I didn’t think you’d come for me,” Was all she could say, and Derek thought it was the saddest he’d ever heard her. 

Reid was pulling her to her feet then, where he was still hovering over her, despite the fact the blast had already cleared,  still sputtering and hocking up a lung, but it didn’t stop her from throwing herself at his middle, burying her face in his dusty sweater, not caring one bit if he jostled her aching ribs. 

He was trying to be gentle with her as he squeezed her back, but she knew by the way he pressed his face into her hair he needed it just as badly. 

“You saved my life,” He said, his long arms wrapping around her waist, hauling her whole body against his. 

She laughed through a cough, their cheeks brushing past one another as she pulled him in tighter, thankful, relieved. 

“You saved mine,” 

And then she heard Emily. Emily, who sounded frantic and heartbroken as she called for her, her voice breaking as if she was crying, or atleast on the verge of, and as comforting as Spencer’s long arms around her cracked ribs were, she needed to see her sister was okay. 

Ripping herself from his embrace immediately, she tore off after the sound, and there she was. Her older sister, who had always seemed immovable, like she wouldn’t so much as budge for a bucking horse, like water couldn’t drown her, or however many unsubs she’d faced could stop her from catching them. Her older sister, who looked like she’d taken a few punches of her own, judging by the blood on her blue blouse, that looked around the crowd of fleeing people with watery eyes and a shaking bottom lip.

“EMILY,” She yelled, her voice a bleat, a lamb calling for its mother, as she sprinted down the steps, whatever strength she had left carrying her to where Emily was rushing towards her, taking the stairs in threes, “EM-”

She crashed into her sister’s chest, and it was only then she started crying. 

“I swear I’ll never give you trouble again, I’ll never talk back, I’ll never be a bitch ever again-” It was all a slew of mumbles against her sisters shirt, that was beginning to wet through at the rate the tears were coming, “I thought he was going to shoot you-”

“I was so scared, Bug, oh my god,” Emily murmured into her hair, squeezing the life out of her baby sister that sniffled and sobbed, “You don’t ever, ever do that to me again,”

Bugsy shook her head, clawing at Emily’s back as she pulled her closer, feeling Emily stroking her hair softly to calm her even in the slightest. They stayed like that until she managed to wrangle her sobs into little sniffs, the fire burning her eyes where it burned the rest of the church to ashes. 

She stayed with Emily for a month after that. 

+4. The one where you leave the altar. 

She knew she was turning heads, walking down the street of a drizzly day in Virginia, hair wet and sticking to her face, makeup running down her cheeks, and the sodden, dove white wedding dress clasped in her hands as she paced towards the government building. 

Whether the guards recognised her as the Ambassador’s daughter, or whether they really didn’t want to get into it with a bride looking like that on her day, she didn’t know, but they opened the door for her nonetheless, exchanging raised brows as a trail of wet followed her gown over the marble floors. 

Heading up the desk, she flashed her driver's licence, which was enough to gain her a visitors pass she didn’t bother putting to use as she headed for the elevator, her ballet pumps squeaking under the body of the dress. Waiting for the doors to start closing when she finally let a few tears slip, burying her face into her cold, drenched palms, undoubtedly making the mess of mascara even worse. 

Her heart gave a leap when she heard someone stop the doors, hoping she could get to her sister with little delay, and she quickly wiped her face with whatever was left of her pretty, dobby cloth shawl she had yanked on before she’d ran. 

Whatever excuse she was about to give, whatever one liner she was about to drop to clear the awkwardness this agent was about to walk in on was sucked out of her when she saw Spencer staring at her, his briefcase in his hands he’d used to hold the doors, a wide eyed look plastered on his face as soon as he saw her state. 

“Bugsy,” It was somewhere between surprise and sadness, jumping into the elevator before the metal could shut again, the button for the sixth floor already lit up in a ring of red, “What are you- I didn’t even know…”

“Spencer!” As seemed to be a common occurrence between them now, she threw two very cold arms over his shoulders, tugging him for a hug he quickly reciprocated, feeling like she needed it in the moment, “It was so awful, I just couldn’t all those people staring at me, and he- I just feel so-”

“Hey slow down,” He soothed, slipping his favourite cardigan off his body to put over her shoulders, ignoring the way he cringed as it quickly got sodden, “Let’s get you to Emily, I’m sure we can fix this,”

She nodded, though he could tell she was still shaken up, the elevator dinging to a stop on the fifth floor where an agent looked ready to step in, his face dropping when he saw the sight. 

“Sorry, we’re full,” Spencer said, with little room for discussion, pressing the button to close the doors once more, and taking her by the elbow as she began shivering, “We’re gonna be just fine, you look beautiful,”

She laughed sadly with a roll of her eyes, the tears sticking to her cheeks. She knew she looked no better than a drowned rat, windswept and disgruntled, her dress full of muck from the street. 

“Thankyou, Spencer,” She mumbled, the door sliding open to the sixth floor, where Penelope and her everlasting smile greeted her favourite boy genius. 

She almost dropped her glitter pen when she saw the woman stood next to him looking like Dorothy dragged through the twister. 

“Oh you poor little lamb, what has happened to you honey!” She all but cried, the cute little pom poms in her hair bouncing as she brought Bugsy closer, taking her hands tightly. “Your hands are ice! You’ll catch cold with that wet hair, and your gorgeous dress-” 

“Garcia,” Spencer cut her off, though the woman didn’t seem to mind being manhandled into the kind grip, he guessed her state had her letting her guard down, “This is Bugsy, Emily’s little sister.”

Penelope gasped, her ponytails swishing around some more, the gems on her glasses as bright as the light in her eyes as she yanked the younger girl in for a tight hug. 

“It is so nice to meet you! Emily talks about you all the time,” She said, pulling away and fumbling through her pockets for her fresh pink handkerchief she always carried around, mopping up the girl's eyeliner. 

“She-she does?” Bugsy asked, sniffling, her body trembling as the AC beat down through the water ladened on her body. 

“Of course she does, come on, let’s go get you coffee, I have a new machine in my office that makes the best espresso-” Garcia grabbed her hand as if they were kids in the playground, as if she’d known the girl years, which she sort of had. She had, of course, stalked every single one of Emily’s known relatives, even a distant cousin that never left Europe, and that had thrown up the quiet corner of the internet that Bugsy took up.

“I needed to talk to my sister, if that’s okay,” Bugsy braved enough to say, the swishing of her dress on the carpet making her wince, practically hearing the gallon of rain that soaked the expensive fabric. 

“Ofcourse! How silly of me, I’ll bring it out right to you, little bug. You just go with Spencer,” Handing him the handkerchief, she set off towards her ‘bat cave’ in search of a hot beverage for the shivering woman, “Spencer, clean her makeup!” 

He did as he was told, dabbing the water off her face as he led her to the BAU, where Emily and Morgan sat on their desks, chatting as they finished off lunch, Emily flicking through photos on her phone of baby Henry that JJ had sent over to her that morning from maternity leave. 

“He’s just the sweetest little boy, he’s got the biggest blue eyes just like Jayj,” She said through a smile, “You know Will even said-”

“Holy shit-” Morgan cut her off, and she glanced at him, wondering about his use of a curse. Following his eyes over her shoulder, she swivelled in her position to see where Spencer led a very wet, shaken version of her little sister through the doors of the BAU, a snowy ball gown hanging off her, a veil clinging to her hair that had seen much better days. 

“Holy shit,” She agreed, immediately darting for the girl that tugged Spencer’s cardigan tighter to her body, “Bugsy,” 

“Emily, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t take up too much time- I just couldn’t do it- and I know mom’s always saying ‘Bring home a doctor, bring home a rich man,’ but I just couldn’t no matter how rich his daddy is, he wasn’t even too bad-” It all came out in a slur, not making too much sense, and she didn’t stop until Emily held up her hands, as if easing a wild dog. 

“Woah, take it easy, kiddo,” Morgan hushed, as Emily brought a hand over her sister’s cheek, wiping away the last of the mascara, “What happened?”

Bugsy took a deep breath, looking between Emily and Derek, feeling the rain drip down her back. 

“So a few weeks ago, Mom made me go to that stupid debutante ball,” She started, rolling her eyes already as Emily winced, knowing Elizabeth loved any excuse to dress her youngest up like a Barbie doll. 

“I hated those things,” She confessed, shaking her head, “I thought you’d agreed you didn’t have to go to them anymore,”

“That was while I was in college, she said at least I could focus on my studies,” The girl explained, as Garcia tottered back through the office, a steaming cup of coffee in her beloved Bratz mug. Taking it from the chirpy woman, she took a deep gulp, not caring if it burned her mouth as she wished for the damn chill to go away, “Thankyou- But she made me go to this one on the condition she would pay off some of my college loans, and I was dumb enough to fall for her bribe,” 

She huffed, taking another sip, her stomach warming with the hot liquid settling through her throat. 

“You know how she is at these things, she knows everyone, and everyone knows her. I had four guys asking for my dance card within minutes of arriving there, it was like trying to walk through a dog pound wearing a meat suit, all the hand holding, trying to touch my waist- one guy even called me Madam Prentiss,” She grimaced, shuddering at the thought of it, “Madam? No one even calls mom that-”

“Focus,” Emily reminded gently, and she seemed to nod to herself, setting back on track.

“Right. And then he was there. Byron Hastings.” Bugsy said, wrapping her hands around the mug some more. 

“Oh, isn’t he that super yummy bachelor that just inherited his fathers business?” Garcia jumped in, not noticing how it made her wince, “I hear his dad totally owns a bunch of shares in Facebook and as like just signed a deal with a new company that will change the future of computing-” 

“Not now, baby girl,” Morgan said calmly, patting Penelope on her shoulder when she saw the bride’s crestfallen face.

“Right, sorry. Your turn, little bug,” She said, shaking her head and fiddling with her dozen rings. 

“Yeah, that’s him.” She replied, running a slightly warmed finger over her eyelash where rain even collected there, “And you know, I wasn’t complaining, he was certainly easy on the eyes, and he smelled nice, like he just smelled rich, but man alive he was so boring,” She sighed, “I like computers as much as the next girl, no offence, but he didn’t once ask me what I was into or, and when I tried to bring up my degree he just patted me on the head and said ‘That’s nice’ like I was some child that had brought him a pretty colouring or something,”

“Ouch,” Emily grimaced, rubbing her arms over the cardigan to warm her up a little more, “And then?” 

“And eventually, his dad and my mom cut a deal that we’d make a good pair. He said we could be married within the season, and suddenly everyone seemed up for it, and it was like no matter how hard I tried to dig my heels in, no one would listen, and mom just seemed so pleased with me-” She spluttered, sipping her drink to catch her breath, “I just let it happen and just thought, you know, maybe we could learn to like each other, or we could just be like mom and dad and separate in everything but paper,” 

“It’s your life, who is she to tell you how you’re gonna live it,” Emily was outraged, the tip of her nose pink, her dark eyes stormy as her hands fell to her hips, huffing as if it had been her backed into a corner, “I can’t believe she would do this to you,” 

“I was fine with it, really. It's not like its the fifteenth century when I’d be forced to consummate- anyway,” Bugsy rubbed her face, “I just got there, and mom put on my veil and told me I’d make a lovely Mrs Hastings, and just the sound of it- I couldn’t-”

“What on earth is going on?” A new voice cut through the BAU, and the group disbanded like kids caught trading answers to the homework. Rossi and Hotch stood by the unit chief’s office, brows furrowed at the wet bride and his team that tended to her as if she were a princess. 

“Should we be expecting four wet bridesmaids too?” Rossi asked, the two of them making the steps down to the floor, approaching the guilty faced woman, noting Spencer’s cardigan wrapped over her shoulders. 

“Nope, just me,” Her joke fell flat as she met the stony face of Aaron Hotchner, who looked thoroughly unimpressed, “Nice to see you again, Mr Hotchner, sir,” 

His gaze slid to Emily, mouth opening to share whatever scathing remark bounced around his mouth, but the younger girl beat him to it, everyone’s eyebrows raising when she all but cut him off. 

“This wasn’t on Emily, sir, I just showed up out of the blue, I can go- I’ll go- I just need to figure out where I’m staying since I left my purse at the church- don’t you worry I’ll be out of your hair, Aaro- sir,” Bugsy stammered, plonking the mug onto Emily’s desk, backing away to the doors of the office, clutching her visitor pass tight in her fist. 

Maybe it was because she looked so hopeless, or maybe it was the way his team shot him the same look of horror he would be so regimental, or maybe even it was the fact part of her reminded him of Sean, only his brother wouldn’t have had the courtesy to apologise for his mess. 

Sighing, he gestured her to come back, “Wait,” He said her name, her government name because the other one didn’t fit right in his mouth, “Reid, get her some clothes out your go bag. Emily, tell your mother she’s safe and will be staying in Quantico until you can figure something out,” 

Heaving a sigh of relief, she launched her still sodden form at the chief, wrapping him in a stiff hug, bolder than anyone else on the team had ever dared to be. 

“I swear to god, Mr Hotchner, the next letter you're getting will be the best one yet,” She mumbled into his hard chest, and he fought off the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Patting her on the back gently, he ignored the way his dress shirt wet through. 

–

let me know what you think! mAYBE A FEW MORE PARTS COMING UP ??

Edit: This is a part one of 3 or 4 I have planned, thankyou so much for all the love on this I did not expect the reaction 🥺🥺

SECOND EDIT: part two and three are out now!! Have a look at the top where it says ‘next chpt and it’s there bbys!!

#spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #Prentiss #prentiss!Reader #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #mathew grey gubler #Matthew grey gubler x reader

[handumb]

shhhh..

~ shigaraki x f!reader

summary: you had been exceptionally dry towards your boyfriend this past week, and he couldn’t get the reason out of you over text, no matter how hard he tried. So he figured he’d pay you a little visit! :)

additional tags: reader has strict parents, eventual smut, forced to be quiet, established relationship, teasing, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, using panties as a gag, slight aftercare, no quirk au

a/n: this is my first time writing publicly on this account, so please feel free to leave tips or suggestions for me <3

word count: ~2.7k

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Family dinner was something that was obligatory in your household; it had been since the dawn of time. Unless you weren’t home, you had no excuse to not be sat at your dining room table with your parents. That leaves you where you are now, picking at your plate as you sit in uncomfortable silence with your mom and dad. You knew the reason why they were refraining from breaking the silence, in turn understanding that they were going to avoid the subject all together.

“So, when can I talk to my boyfriend again?” Your tone was slightly annoyed, as you placed your fork down on your plate and looked up across the table. You met your mother’s eyes, which looked to her husband, and back to you. She let out a sigh as she also set down her fork, bringing her napkin to the corner of her mouth.

“You know the answer. He’s bad for you, and we will not allow you two to see each other any longer,” she stated simply. She was right, you knew the answer, but you couldn’t stand being forced to be so distant with him. It killed you to not maintain the same personality with him online, let alone not seeing him for the past week and a half. You looked to your dad, but he avoided your gaze, not being one for confrontation. “What your mother said, sweetheart.”

You scoffed, throwing your hands up and letting them fall to your sides. “That’s not fair, it’s my life,” you said, hating that they thought they could control you like this. “No, it’s our life, and it will be for as long as you live under this roof. If you want to be independent, you can move out!” Your mother raised her voice, displaying her usual short temper. “You don’t get it, you don’t even care enough to meet him,” you retorted, propping your elbows up on the table and swinging your hands around as you spoke, as if it helped prove your point.

“Honey, please, just try to see it from our perspective,” your dad started, turning to face you. “You sneak around with him, he’s been in the custody of the police more than once, he doesn’t do good in school, the list goes on. He doesn’t seem to have a good influence on you. We’re doing this because we love you.” You looked at your dad in disbelief. Of course they used that excuse, it’s their favorite one to abuse.

“You will stop seeing each other, and that’s final.” Your mom stated with no room for arguing otherwise. Feeling your blood rush to your face, you made the executive decision to stand up from the table, and reside in your room, not wanting to say anything that would provoke further punishment from the both of them. “If you loved me, you would let me live my life however I damn well pleased. Fucking god.” The words left your lips as a soft curse as you stormed down the hall and toward your bedroom door. Opening it revealed a surprise that you definitely weren’t expecting.

There laid your boyfriend, Tomura, lazily on your bed, fiddling with some little trinket that was supposed to be on your desk. The sound of your door opening snapped him out of whatever he was doing, and he smiled, really it was more of a smirk, and got up off the bed to greet you.

“Hey sweet thing.” He cooed out. Your eyes were wide and your feet were frozen, not expecting him to literally be in your room.

You shut the door swiftly, and held your hands out in front of you, motioning for him to stop and explain himself. “How? Why??” You could barely get out before realizing your parents could probably still hear you. Before he even started talking, you put a finger to your lips, signaling him to be quiet. You walked past him, finding something to turn on as noise to drown you two out. You landed on just turning on your fan.

The fan ran for a second before you interrogated him on what he was doing here. “What are you doing? How did you get in?” You were right in front of him, whisper-yelling your inquiries at him. He started walking closer to you, closing the gap between your bodies. You stepped back, until you reached your bed. You sat on it and looked up at him, waiting for his answer.

“Well, your window was unlocked, and I wanted to see why you’ve been ignoring me.” He stated with ease, a slight grin and a shrug of his shoulders accompanying his words. You sigh and furrow your eyebrows, upset at yourself. You didn’t want to break the news like this, but you figured you had no other choice. You were mentally beating yourself up for what you were about to say.

“Tomura.. I think we have to.. uhm- stop seeing.. each other.” The words left your mouth with so much hesitation, dripping in sadness. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, holding your gaze in your lap. Your head felt heavy as you tried to compose yourself, knowing he wouldn’t react well to the news.

You didn’t hear anything for a good while after you spoke, deciding to look to see what he was thinking. Except, you don’t see a different expression from what he was sporting earlier. He still had the shit-eating grin that was plastered on his face when you first saw him. “That’s cute, angel.” He rasped out, grasping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He crawled to you on the bed, forcing you to lie down as he positioned himself on top of you, trapping you. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

He leaned down to kiss you, holding the side of your face with one of his hands. You matched his movements, bringing your hands up to either side of his head. You were lost in the feeling, missing this for the last week or so. You wanted it to be slow, in case this was actually the last time you saw him. He slowly prodded your lips with his tongue, asking for permission to be let in. You granted it happily, parting your lips as you felt your breathing slowly become heavier.

He leaned down, pressing himself more into you as an effect, and finally broke the kiss. The catching of breath was all that was heard between the two of you. He just smiled with half lidded eyes before dipping down to your jawline, eventually kissing his way down to your neck. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling at his locks and tangling themselves in it. That’s when you realized that your parents were, in fact, still home. Most likely just down the hall from the both of you.

You panicked, trying to push Tomura’s face away from the warmth of your neck so that you wouldn’t get caught. “Wait, no, my parents are still home, I can’t-” You were cut off, your breath hitching, Tomura not budging as he continued his attack on your neck. “T-Tomura, I can’t, not now-“

“Yes, now,” he breathed out, finding a spot on your collarbone to sink his teeth into. He sucked on the spot afterwards, allowing as close to instant relief as he could, before dragging his tongue along it painfully slow. This elicited soft whimpers from your throat, foiling your plan of trying not to let too much noise slip. Sure, the fan helped with blocking it out, but it could only do so much before your parents got suspicious.

You eventually gave in, not being able to resist him with any bone in your body. He kissed down your collarbone, and made his way to your chest. He slid his hands up the shirt that was covering one of his favorite features about you, slowly raising it above your head and discarding it off to the side. He had a twinkle of something in his eyes, and licked his lips, before kissing and sucking all over your chest. His lips lingered on your nipple, sucking at it harshly, before bringing one of his free hands up to the other, making sure it didn’t feel neglected.

“So beautiful, all for me.” He said, making it increasingly harder to stay quiet, and you were very sure he knew that. You looked down at him, the sight one to remember, while soft moans were slipping past your lips. You bit your tongue in hopes of it helping cease the noises. He met your gaze, grinning.

Once he was done marking and biting your chest, he made his way down to your most intimate area. He started fiddling with the waistband of your underwear, looking up at you while he did so. You looked down at him with pleading eyes, practically begging him not to do what he was about to. “No! Are you crazy? Do you want me to get caught?” You whisper to him, squirming. He only laughed softly in response before slowly pulling them down your legs; past your mid thighs, then your knees, then all the way down to your ankles, before wadding them up and shoving them into your mouth.

“I guess you’ll just have to be quiet then, princess,” he teased, honing in on his target, “I bet you can manage.” His tongue stuck out, licking up your slit, then going to focus on your clit. You moaned into your panties, the sensation euphoric. God, you missed this. You couldn’t fathom how you went without him for as long as you had.

He wrapped his lips around your sensitive nub, lapping the rest of your pussy generously with his tongue. You tried to stay quiet, you really did, but you couldn’t help how euphoric it felt. You continued moaning, fighting back as much as you could manage. You were squirming in his grip, either trying to break free from his hands or trying to grind against his face; you weren’t sure which you were attempting. All that washed over you was an intense amount of pleasure, urging you to reach a hand up to one of your tits, fondling it and tugging at your nipple.

Your breath became labored, the rise and fall of your chest attracting Tomura’s eyes as he looked up at the beautiful sight: you with your legs spread wide just for him, moaning out what he assumed was a mix of curses and his name as he made you feel heavenly. He took it one step further.

“Look at me,” he pulled away, waiting for you to meet his gaze, “look at me as I fuck you with my fingers.” He said, slowly inserting his fingers into your core, feeling your gummy insides squeeze around his digits. You lulled your head back against your pillow, the combination forcing you closer to your climax.

That was until the sound of knocking at your door interrupted the two of you, the room falling almost completely silent as one of your parents made their presence known. “Honey?” Your dad called out, talking through the door. You sat up as much as you could, not knowing what to do. Your eyes darted between Tomura and your door, frozen.

“I.. I wanted to apologize for earlier.” He was lingering outside of your door. Tomura had a devilish grin on his face, slowly starting his movements up again. You looked down at him, seeing him slowly bring a finger up to his lips with a small “shh” emitting from them, dipping back down into your cunt, and thrusting his fingers in and out of you. You squealed softly into your underwear, trying especially hard not to make any noise now that your dad was outside of your door.

“You know how mom can be sometimes, she just needs some downtime,” he continued, wildly unaware of what was going on just on the other side of the wood barrier between the two of you. You felt yourself slowly climb back up the steep hill of pleasure, your boyfriend's movements only getting more intense as he makes it his mission to get you to cum. You looked down at him, pleading eyes begging him to slow down, or at least make it easier for her to keep quiet. But, to no avail as he kept up his pace with his fingers, matching it with his tongue as he focused on your sweet spots.

“We can go out tomorrow, just the two of us? I bet it’ll make you feel better, sweetheart,” he said. You squirmed, softly moaning, waiting for your dad to leave. You could feel yourself nearing the edge, wiggling your hips as you tried to force yourself into your orgasm. To your dad, you were just giving him the silent treatment, so he took that as his cue to retire back to his room. “Okay, goodnight honey,” your dad said, before leaving again.

Tomura rasped out a small laugh, before urging you on. “Come on, angel, you can do it. You’re doing so good.” He whispered in between your thighs, hitting the spots that make you see stars over and over, finally pushing you over the edge. You looked down at him one more time, before coming undone. You felt him hum in satisfaction as he tasted your orgasm, forcing you to ride it out until you were begging for him to take it easy on you. Your hand found refuge in his scalp, tangling themselves in the nest of light blue locks.

With one last lap of his tongue around your cunt, he pulled away, a smile plastered on his face as he licked his fingers clean. Your face was slightly flushed as you smiled back at him, your chest rhythmically rising and falling. He crawled on top of you, wrapping his arms around your body. You started massaging his scalp with one of your hands, and rubbed his back with the other. You heard him mumble out, “Are you actually going to follow through? With the thing you brought up earlier?” You heard his tone; he sounded defeated.

You cup his face in your hands, turning it to face your own. “Of course not. My parents have been on me about it, and I didn’t know what else to do.” You looked away for a moment, then back at him. “But, that’s not to say that I won’t still ignore you, seeing this is what happens when I do,” you teased, a smirk on your face. Tomura scoffed, shaking his head and laying it back down on your chest.

After a long, silent moment, Tomura propped himself up. “I think I should go. Your parents will kill both of us if they found out I was here,” he said, moving towards the window to open it up again. “Aww, please, stay just a little longer.. Please?” You pleaded, sitting up and following him out of bed covering yourself with a nearby blanket. He turned to face you, hands moving from the window to your face. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back. You can count on that,” he said, half of his face illuminated by the dim light of the moon. He leaned down, your lips interlocking with his one last time, before he turned to escape through the window.

“Wait!” You called out to him, leaning out the window. He turned to meet you, pulling his hood up. “Uhm- text me when you get home. Maybe I can sneak off to see you next time,” you said, a small dust of pink on your cheeks as you spoke. You heard him let out a small laugh as he nodded up to you, running off into the night, leaving you up in your room for the rest of the time being.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura smut #shigaraki smut #mha shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #first post #i’m nervous #please don’t be mean to me #haha

[koris-crumbs]

gimme td character headcanons. literally any.

RAHHH okay anything for you pookie. These are mainly for my favorite four but i probably have some more somewhere in this brain of mine

Heather:

Fem lesbian obvious

Her and Noah are best friends bc they both clocked each other IMMEDIATELY when total drama island first happened

By best friends I mean both of them only admit it internally and never to each other

Shitty, homophobic parents meant she ran away/got kicked out 😋

MAJOR mommy issues. her dad just was kinda there and didn’t do anything

despises her siblings but LOVES noah and his own family

Ended up moving in with Noah trust she’s basically his sister

LOVES babies despite what people may think

Immediately falls asleep after eating (yeah she’s one of those people)

Pretends she only eats gourmet food when in reality her fave is honestly just a good, greasy burger from some shitty diner Noah took her too

Since she got cut off she makes Noah, and eventually Alejandro and Court buy everything for her 😍

LOVES her weird off brand total dramaverse jigsaw movies but that’s about the only type of scary movie she’ll watch bc it has no jumpscares it’s just gore basically.

HATES HATES HATES JUMPSCARES she’ll scream

thinks noah’s crush on alejandro is genuinely the funniest thing in the world she never lets him live it down

was stunned into silence one time bc noah flashed a photo of her bald on facetime one night

Immediately clocked Alejandro as being a closet bisexual she genuinely probably knew he was a boy kisser before he did

Courtney followed her private account after the events of World Tour transpired and heather screamed when she got the notification

has a key to Noah’s house bc she lives there (this will come back later trust)

passenger princess every time

Noah:

Gay gay homosexual gay

after World Tour and swearing off of reality shows (for now) he gets a job as a barista at some shitty cafe near his house

he gives Heather free coffee bc girl can’t live without it

drove like four hours to pick heather up after she got kicked out

is the designated driver of the group

also usually pays for everything despite being friends with mainly rich (or previously rich in heathers case) kids

knew he had a crush on alejandro from the start and just kinda let it simmer bc he figured nothing would ever come out of it

he has a mom car. a beat up subaru. he is truly the mom friend fr

carries that photo of bald heather around as a way to get her to shut up if she says anything too mean (usually to owen or izzy)

had to be the one to ask alejandro out and literally rehearsed it for hours

is a surprisingly good cook despite being the youngest of nine children. him and owen cook together all the time as a sort of bonding thing

hes a mommas boy trust. both of his parents are great though

never really went all out for halloween until he was roped into a group costume with owen and team e-scope one year. after world tour alejandro convinced him to do couples costumes with him

the most ATROCIOUS fashion sense known to man

Alejandro:

the definition of bisexual

he has the absolute shittiest gaydar in the world though. I know it

didn’t even know he himself was bi until world tour

ALSO meant he couldn’t tell noah was gay (stupid) and it devastated him on that plane even though he had no idea why yet

THIS BOY HAS JEALOUSYYYYY PROBLEMSSSS

being the youngest and always second best to josé definitely contributed to that

the daddy issues to match heathers mommy issues

always wanted a sister

after courtney and him make up after the events of world tour he basically gets her as one

they shit talk people in spanish together trust

has one sided beef with one of noah’s coworkers bc they have a crush on noah

him and heather stayed close after world tour but he did NOT know she lived with noah. he didn’t even know they were friends.

was always confused on why heather made him drop her off like a block from where she said she lived

was scandalized when he found out heather did in fact not strictly eat gourmet food

hates Owen with a seething passion. this one isn’t even a hc honestly. the hatred after world tour mainly stems from jealousy bc owens so close with noah

“why is he here??” “he’s my best friend, alejandro” “i thought I was your best friend ☹️”

yeah he sticks to that “best friend” story a lot.

noah only starts getting suspicious when alejandro says it’s okay for best friends to kiss just for funsies

him, heather, and courtney have to take noah shopping bc of how atrocious noah’s taste is

doesn’t watch movies in general but he loathes horror movies with a passion bc he’s just like heather and hates jumpscares

noah and court put a horror movie on during movie night one time and alejandro literally almost cut off noah’s circulation from how hard he was gripping

for their first halloween as a couple he made noah dress up as a vampire while he was a werewolf (a better love story than twilight 🤯)

does not. know what to do around babies and toddlers. they make him uncomfortable tbh. what if one crawls over to him? he will kindly pass on that, thank you

one time one of noah’s little cousins waddled up to him and he went 😟 bc he thought noah was testing how good he was with kids

has a key to noah’s house bc he’s down bad and already spends 90% of his time there anyway

neither his nor heathers keys were given to them by noah himself

noah’s momma strikes again

whenever he sits behind her he kicks heathers seat in the subaru

Courtney:

lesbian in denial for a while (lmaoooo i’m dr seuss)

honestly wasn’t even that sad about duncan tbh she was DEVASTATED about gwen though

musical theater kid. probably music kid in general.

despite popular belief i actually imagine her parents being very proud and genuinely good parents. they adore their baby girl

definitely has a big photo of her as a baby hung up in like the main area in her huge house

after heather comforted her she honestly regretted not getting her contact info so she had to resort to finding her on instagram after like a month of searching

her and alejandro had kept in touch so she was surprised when she found out he was best friends with heather and noah as well

100% said the infamous heartbreaking quote to heather during world tour at some point

“why not?” “i wish you were a boy” (sorry)

is a beast and super fan for horror movies and noah’s the first friend she actually gets to enjoy them with bc he doesn’t get scared (unlike a specific two people)

ALWAYS dresses up as a princess or fairy or smth for halloween every year without a doubt. heather nearly had an aneurysm the first halloween they spent together

is scary when she drives solely bc of her road rage which is why noah’s the designated driver not her (heather and alejandro don’t know how to lmaooo losers)

that’s it for them for the moment. maybe i’ll do more for other characters if i think of anything ^^

#total drama #td heather #td courtney #td noah #td alejandro #td alenoah #heathney

[usssnarfblat]

Did Anastasia deserve to die for her family's crimes against Fieval's family?

I've always found it interesting that "Anastasia" and "An American Tail" were made by the same guy...

My mom got us "An American Tail" as kids, since we were Jewish, and a Disney-like movie with Jewish characters was a one-of-a-kind thing. ("The Prince of Egypt" was still a few years away. Yes, I'm that old.) More to the point, my dad's side of the family is largely Russian Jews, who immigrated in the early 1920s, for exactly the same reasons as the Mouskewitz. Being a child of this background and very literally obsessed with cats, I had mixed feelings about the movie.

When "Anastasia" came out a few years later, Mom didn't let that history stop us from enjoying the new princess movie, but she didn't shelter us from it either. We regarded it like we did the real history behind any sugar-coated princess movie. She even got us some history books about the real Romanov family, and we were fascinated by the subject.

Still, it's an odd elephant in the room, watching "Anastasia" and knowing that her granddad was the one who sent those Cossack cats after Fievel's village, and her dad himself continued doing it to the Jewish mice who didn't leave.

"Go, Pompom, Kibble and Fluff-Baron! Kill those Jew mice, and I'll give you extra catnip treats tonight!"

Don Bluth presents both the Romannov family and their victims with equal sympathy, even opening both movies with the family celebrating a holiday, with the kid heroes getting a plot-specific present, before being viciously attacked.

"Wow Grandmama! Fieval and Tanya could use this as a merry-go-round!"

*Cough* "Yes uh, about those Jewish mice Sweetie..."

Bluth's portrayal of the Romanov family is not entirely inaccurate. By all accounts, Nicholas II was a deeply loving father who both doted on his children, but raised them not to be spoiled. Despite being royalty, the princesses shared bedrooms and did charity work at hospitals.

It's a baffling irony that Nicholas was nevertheless was a tyrant, and not remotely just to his Jewish subjects. When I was about twelve, Mom got me the Dear America book A Coal Miner's Bride, about the Catholic Polish immigrants who also fled the oppression of the Russian Tzar. (Anastasia's family conquered part of Poland in the 1800s, banning the Pols from speaking their own language and drafting their sons into the Tzar's dick-measuring contest wars.) Anyway, that's what my mom's side of the family was fleeing when they immigrated. Yes, my family has double reason to hate the Romanovs.

So, I personally don't have a lot of sympathy for Nicholas II. But the horrors his poor wife and children endured in their final moments never fails to get the reaction from me.

The rationalization for the murder of the children and queen was that it was the only way to ensure that the monarchy never returned. But I assume most modern-thinking people would say that the ends do not justify the means in this case.

That said, millions of families like Anetka's and Fievel's suffered as bad or worse than the Romanovs, because of the Romanovs, and no one remembers them because they didn't wear tiaras. This no doubt was another factor that killed sympathy for the Romanov children. But they were still children.

The question today is, if we can feel for a family that was literal royalty, despite their father being an undeniable tyrant against our own families...can we also feel for Palestinian and Israeli families, during a conflict that is vastly more complicated than Imperial Russia?

Or do they need to be cute mice and glittery princesses to get our attention?

#don bluth #anastasia romanov #anastasia 1997 #an american tail #fievel #fievel mousekewitz #nicholas ii #tzar #russia #imperial russia #jewish #judaism #poland #a coal miner's bride #dear america #non disney princess #disney princesses #princess #immigrants #antisemitism #imperialism #russian revolution #mouse #mice #animation #hamas #west bank #israel palestine conflict #russian jews

[goldeunoias]

Angel.

A/N: i have a jay obsession i have a jay obsession i have a jay obsession

I am also writing for Jay again bc his stans also always give me the most feedback on his works so i am more inclined to write for him ^^ 

if you want to see a member more the best way to do that is to leave feedback on the author’s works!

Word Count: 1.6k (i can’t believe i did this in one sitting adsfasd)

Synopsis: Literally you are something so sweet and lovely to jay and he wants to corrupt you. Yeah.

Warnings: Male masturbation, slight perv! Jongseong, some daddy kink in there, corruption kink, dirty talk, daddy dom! jay lowkey, i think this is it i can’t remember, ah yes, finger sucking

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Who gave you the right to be so cute? 

Jay’s eyes were trained on you for a good duration of the night as yours and his parents conversed about things he didn’t particularly care about, but you however did, engaging in a deep discussion with whatever his mom was ranting about. 

Jay tried so hard to keep his thoughts pure, especially since he was literally at a family dinner but he couldn’t help himself. He’d liked you ever since his dad hired your mom, and you came into his life like a ray of sunshine. 

A ray of sunshine that he utterly wanted to ruin.

He knew you were inexperienced, he just knew it. You were so soft and delicate, shy giggles being let out every time his hand would grace any aspect of your body, whether it was to put the strap back on your dress if it was falling off, or to remove an eyelash that perhaps clung to your cheek. 

Jay felt his jaw clench and he adjusted his posture some as he tried to contain himself, enamored with how your eyes sparkled when his mom made a remark that you found funny. 

Gorgeous, an angel. 

“Jongseong, why don’t you tell her about the things you’ve been working on lately? You’ve been so quiet,” his mom interjected, pulling him from his thoughts. He immediately felt his heart pick up as you stared at him with captivated eyes, your whole countenance being warmer than fresh laundry. 

“Well, uh...I mean it’s all really stupid so I don’t think she’d want to hear any of that mom so it’s fine really,” Jay rambled out, feeling his body get hot. You smiled at his mannerisms and Jay felt his heart lurch out of his chest, giving you what he hoped was a smile that was not too forced but not too bland either. 

Jay watched as you went for one of the dishes that was placed near him and he rushed to help you, both of your hands colliding and inadvertently spilling the bottle of wine next to the food all over him. 

“oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to,” you immediately rushed out as you stood up and went to his side to clean up the mess with napkins, your face burning as you felt the gaze of both his and your family staring at you. 

“It’s okay you didn’t mean it. I guess we’re both a little clumsy huh,” Jay soothed, your face somehow getting warmer from the soothing sound of his voice. You handed him some more napkins so he could absorb some of the red wine from his ruined dress shirt and pants, apologizing to the rest of the group for causing such a ruckus. 

There was a murmur of “it’s okay” and everyone eventually went back to their conversations. You rushed out more apologies as Jay excused himself to shower and change to remove the stickiness of the wine. He told you it was okay and squeezed your hand for reassurance, the simple act making you nod and look down. 

Soon enough you went back to your conversation and Jay excused himself to his room, closing his door and stripping himself of his clothes to shower. If he was being honest, he couldn’t be happier to have a reason to excuse himself as he wasn’t really sure how much longer he could’ve held out. 

He hated himself for thinking about you in this way more often than not but you drove him insane and as the hot water started cascading down his body his thoughts start to run rampant, a low hiss emerging from him as he felt blood rush to his member. 

His mind started thinking about how frazzled and shy you’d get as he peeled off clothes from you one by one, remarking on how pretty his angel was. Jay groaned as he lightly wrapped his hand around his member and slowly started stroking, wanting to tease himself. 

Jay felt his face burn as his thoughts got even lewder, wanting so badly for you to disobey him so he could punish you with smacks to the flesh of your ass. His face furrowed as he thought about how you’d whimper and whine into a pillow as he delivered each ministration and how your voice would crack as you counted for him. 

Now drops of precum were profusely leaking from his tip and his mind now wandered to how warm your mouth would be as you tried to suck him off the first time, soft eyes looking up at him as you asked him if you were doing a good job. 

Like this jeongie?

At the thought of your voice asking it sweetly, he groaned against the shower wall, trying to hold out on his teasing for longer. The sound of the shower covered the lewd sounds that were coming from his hand as he gripped himself harder, his legs spasming for a second as he felt his stomach tighten. 

He hated how desperate he looked as he fucked himself into his hand, low grunts and hisses coming from him as he made thought of every indecent scene he could put you in. 

“S-seongie will it fit?” 

“Keep going please”

“I t-think I’m gonna cum”

“D-daddy...”

Jay hissed lowly through his teeth as he imagined easing himself into you, your delicate hands wanting to grip onto his for something grounding as he would stretch out the gummy walls of your core. 

Were you a virgin perhaps? 

He knew you were inexperienced but it would kill him to know if you were. Jay felt his hand tighten more at the base as he felt his hand speed up, his stomach clenching as a tight knot started forming in his stomach. 

His name fell from your lip and he squeezed his eyes shut as he thought about your syrupy arousal soaking his sheets as he fingered you, his heart fluttering at how wet he’d make sure to get you. You were so sweet and lovely to him he wanted to spoil you like a princess, dreaming up you wearing the cutest lingerie for him before he’d fuck you in it. 

Jay’s head felt dizzy as he knew he was getting closer and a part of him was embarrassed at how badly you affected him and how badly he wanted to ruin you. He felt himself choke on a moan at the mere idea of you begging to be fucked by him, cute pleas timidly leaving your mouth about wet you were.

“Fuck angel I wish you were here,” Jay groaned against the shower wall, as he felt his balls clench before the knot snapped deep and heavy moans fell from his lips as thick ropes of cum spurted out from him. He lay against the wall for a solid five minutes and changed the water to something cooler to get himself to come back down from his high, his breathing finally returning to normal after some time. 

He reluctantly turned off the water and dried himself off quickly and put on his robe and opened the door, stopped in his tracks when he saw the sight. 

It was you, a frightened expression plastered on your face as stood next to his bathroom door frame, your hand shamefully frozen between your legs. 

“I-I’m sorry your mom wanted me to check up on you and I didn’t mean ohmygosh I-”

“Ey it’s alright baby, no need to be sorry” Jay soothed as his hand came down and moved your own from between your legs, holding it up so you both could see how sticky it was. “Were you listening to me?” 

You gulped and nodded, doing everything to look everywhere except his carob eyes. Jay nodded and you jumped slightly when he slid your fingers into his mouth and started sucking, the warmth of his tongue making you whimper. 

“Here’s what you’re gonna do princess. Go downstairs and tell them that I have a migraine and you’re gonna keep watch to make sure I’m okay. Got it?” Jay purred, his hands lovingly stroking underneath your shirt. 

“O-okay,” you agreed, Jay helping you in fixing your clothes before sending you on your way. You timidly walked down the steps with frazzled legs, clearing your throat at the base to get everyone’s attention. 

“Jongseong has a migraine so I was gonna keep him company just in case he needs anything and can’t come down to get it,” you told in the evenest voice you could muster. There was collective nodding and his mom and dad gave you polite “thank yous” you nodding and going back up the steps without rushing up there. 

When you opened the door you saw Jay had turned off the lights and just had the lamps on instead, his room being cascaded into warm honey lighting. 

“C’mere princess, sit in my lap” Jay ordered softly, spreading his legs as you came and took a seat. It was taking all of Jay’s self-control to not just ravage you right then and there, his hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs and raising your skirt up more and more. 

“Do you want me to take care of you baby? I need your confirmation,” Jay cooed, one of his hands coming to hold your chin in place so you could stare at him. The already obedient eyes you were giving him were making the blood start rushing to his cock once more, dark desires fueling with him as you let out a whiny “yes daddy”, biting down on your lip in shyness. 

“Mm such a good princess. Daddy is gonna take real good care of you.”

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if ya liked it tell me! likes don’t tell me much and usually cause me to delete fics bc no one says anything and then i think no one likes it asdfafsdfasfdsfa

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen fanfic #enhypen scenarios #park jongseong smut #jongseong smut #enhypen jay smut

[whateversawesome]

I really hope this doesn't come off as hate, I just wanted someone else's input - I feel like the eden kids have become more of the main characters than the forgers have. I know we just finished an important arc with them but it feels as though every other chapter is centered around them. We haven't had a chapter with the forgers together since Anya got rescued and that wasn't even a whole chapter. it feels as though the manga's shifted from its core (a spy dad, assassin mom, esper child and a dog that can see the future). I guess this could just be because of the update schedule though making everything feel slow paced and some plotlines random at times. Again, I hope this doesn't come off as hate. I still love and enjoy the story, and was curious to hear the opinion of another.

Hi! Thank you for reaching out. Your question doesn't come as hate at all and it'll be my pleasure to answer it :)

Your feelings and frustration are totally valid. A lot of us got into Spy x family because of the Forgers (and some of us Twiyor specifically) and miss seeing them. So, let me tell you how I see things both as a writer and as a reader.

As a writer: I'm not worried about where sxf is going because I've written plenty of stories and I can see the seams (meaning the construction of the story). However, I know not everyone is a writer, so this illustration may be useful for everyone:

The beginning of sxf had a great exposition of the characters and the story. This is the part where the readers fall in love and get attached to the characters.

I know it's been going for 79 chapters, but in my opinion, we're barely leaving #2 (conflict) and entering #3 (rising action). Endo set the conflict and not quite started the action yet. So we're just entering the middle of the story.

In my experience (both as a reader and writer), when the middle of the story begins is not the most exciting part and, depending on the story and author, the middle can feel long.

In Spanish, the middle a story is called "nudo", which means "knot". This is where the story gets tangled and very complicated. In fact, the more complicated, the better, because it means that it'll be hard to resolve and the stakes will be high during the climax.

The purpose of the middle of a story is to point towards the climax. This is where the author has to build the tension to get there, where the conflict gets thicker and thicker.

Now, has Endo been doing this?

YES.

Evidence of this are the whole bus kidnapping arc: where he told us how the SSS and government behave towards its citizens (even when they're children). THIS will be key in the story. And the latest 78 doggie competition chapter: where Handler and Twilight literally talk about the main plot of the story.

This reminds us the main plot is still about Donovan Desmond and Project Apple. This doesn't seem random to me. And the fact that we've gotten so much Eden makes me think that Eden is key in the main plot too.

As a writer, his job is to point out to the main plot and head to the climax. If he's been doing that with Eden chapters, that means that's where we're going.

The way I see it, Twilight, Yor, and Anya (Spy, Assassin and Esper) are the main characters, but not the only characters. Because of its cuteness and wholesomeness, it's easy to think of Spy x Family is a simple story about a Spy who adopts a little girl and falls in love with an assassin.

It is not.

This is a monster of a story.

Think of it as a big tree. Stories like this have many branches (secondary characters and side stories) that are connected to the main plot and serve to lead the plot towards the climax. Examples: Lord of the Rings, Fruits Basket, Attack on Titan.

My point is that in these Monster Stories, the plot may not always focus on the main characters, but in the end, everything, every little branch and side story came together to let the main characters rule the story and get to that explosive climax.

And I believe that's what Endo is doing here.

Is it the most exciting thing in the world right now? No.

Sometimes development can feel like a total drag; especially if chapters come out every two weeks and we're all eager for more.

As a writer, I recommend patience. We'll get there, it's just going to take some time.

Now...

As a reader (and a fan): *Big sigh* Yes, I miss the Forgers (and Twiyor) so much and every time there's a new chapter I feel sad we didn't get any interaction.

Yes, I want to see the romance, the pinning, the angst, the first kiss. ALL of it!! At least give me the Forgers shenanigans...

But there is no point in getting upset about it.

Yes, we're kind of in a dry spot in the story, but personally I'm still enjoying it. I'm so grateful for all the good friends I've made thanks to Spy x family. On top of it, I've been having tons of fun writing fics analyzing, and discussing things with other fans.

There's so much talent in our fandom and during this dry season, it's the fans with their gorgeous fanarts and awesome stories what is keeping the fandom engaged and happy. There's no need to feel bored while we wait for the Forgers to come back (and Twiyor to kiss!), let's wait together. Let's have fun together!

One last thing worth mentioning...

I've said it before. It's okay to take a break. There is absolutely no hate in this advice: If the story is becoming too frustrating, if it's detrimental for mental health, if it's becoming more of a bother than a source of happiness, it's okay to take some time off. It's okay to get into other things, other stories and other fandoms. And it's okay to come back after a while to check up on any progress and it's okay to move on too.

Thank you so much for the ask. I wrote a long answer because, as you can see, I'm a big fan of stories and writing.

#thanks anon! #thank you for the ask! #spy x family #spy x family analysis #spy x family manga #ask

[tinyattack09]

ALLL MORAL OREL FANS

you wanna see a fix where Clay is confronted by literal god???

Here it is!!!

Beseech

After the Danielle incident and the hunting tragedy, Clay Puppington receded to his study most of the time. Making no attempt to change, he would waste his days drinking and having an affair with both Censordoll and Stopframe. But, we all know that the lord giveth, and the lord taketh away.

“Clayton Middleinitial Puppington!”

“G-…God!?”

“It is I, the Heavenly Father.” His voice shook the room, and boomed into his body.

“Wha-…Why have you visited me, Lord?” Clay said, clearly in a daze.

“You have a lesson to learn, Clayton. You give your own

lessons and stories while convoluting their meaning to fit your way of destructive, abusive life. It is time that you learn, mortal. The Lord’s mercy only reaches you if it remains pure.”

A sword of pure light appeared. As the Lord held it, the power

changed its hue.

“Lord, what are you doing!?” Clay stepped back. He knew that

he was in trouble, and he couldn’t bribe this one to go away. The sword was raised, and all the light in the room was focused only on Clay.

“What is necessary to keep my world pure.”

“Why…?!”

"Why!? Pathetic. Unable to realize thy faults. Let us see your life, and what it really was."

Everything fades. There is a young boy holding a gun. It shakes in his hands as he struggles to bear such a deadly tool.

"It's a tradition in the Puppington family that the head of the household would pass off this gun to the eldest son."

"Wow, dad… But I don't think I could kill an animal. That seems too mean."

"Son, nature was made to be hunted. We get to 'play god.'"

“Play God?? Golly Pops… that doesn’t sound very right…

You know the sixty-third commandment! ‘Thou shalt never hold a gun without anything to shoot at!’ And we have to follow God’s rules!”

The memory switches to a young Puppington, holding that

same gun, while ketchup was spewed all over the child’s body.

“Clay! Clay! Clayton! Open your fucking eyes!” Clay’s body was shook violently.

“What?? I didn’t do anything!” Clay springs back to life, having

pretended he was dead. His mother then cried out

“Oh thank the heavens! Lord, thank you-“ She froze in the

middle of her sentence. She fell to the floor, her heart unresponsive.

“Mom!” Clay ran to his now dead mother, understanding what he did.

“Get back!” Clay’s father pushed him back, slamming him to a wall. No CPR could be done, and Amanda Puppington was declared dead. The memory fades to black.

Clay was frozen.

“I-… I was so young, Father! I didn’t know what I was doing! I was only six years old!”

“Then let us watch something more… recent, yes?” The memory flashes to the wilderness. Clay is an adult, and stands there with his twelve year-old son, Orel.

“Dad… I think you might be *too* drunk.”

“I… Let me tell you something, Orel! Drunk is nature.”

“I’m not really comfortable hunting with you, Dad.” Orel is tense, gripping to the log he’s sitting on.

“You aren’t comfortable hunting with me? Ever tried hunting with you!?” Clay gulps down his liquor like it’s the last bottle of water in the desert.

“Y’know kid, your cup is always half empty. Look at me. You should be more like your old man and look on the blight side of life.”

“B-Blight?” Orel said, shivering from his fear.

“No, I didn’t say ‘bright,’" Clay interrupted, "I said blight. My life is sunny and blight. ‘Bright’ means the opposite — it means sudden withering death. And that’s… not… Oh, who am I kidding, my life is full of bright…”

“Dad..?” Orel replied, terrified that his father would lose composure.

“Oh, God.”

“What’s happening, Dad!?” Orel cried.

"Oh, I hate myself…”

He runs out of liquor in the bottle. He stares at his reflection, silently hoping that it would be the last time he’d have to see it.

“Why do you quit working on me!?!”

Everything goes silent. No birds chirping, no crickets, no owls in the night.

“She always fools me, Orel. ‘I’ll make things better dear! Drink me! Put me inside of you, I’m great!’ And then she chokes me just like every other whore out there!! They’re all worthless, kid! Every woman. Don’t let ‘em get ya! All of them just wanna get ya! They just grab you and pull you into ‘em! And then you’re forced to stay in, pull out. Stay in, and pull out!! And then they cut ya! And they grip ya by the… right where it counts! And then they start SQUEEZING things out! Things that are like weights around your head! You’re stuck there for the rest of your life, with NOWHERE to go and NO ONE to be!!! AAAAGH!!!”

The scene faded out.

"What's so bad about that?! It's useful advice!" Clay exclaimed, deluded by his own prejudice.

"Just wait, mortal."

The scene reappeared. It opens to clay and Orel sitting across from each other, with clay in a drunken stupor. Orel is now as far away from Clay as he can be while still on a log.

"It's time you became a man. Where's my rifle!?" Clay yells, searching for it/

"Dad, I don't think-"

"There it is! No mistakes, no accidents, no fuck-ups, no blunders."

"Dad! W-What are you doing?!"

"Somethin' important!!"

A single, lone spark flew. Following it was an ear-splitting bang. No noise could be heard after that, other than the ringing going through both of their ears.

"D-...Dad…"

The scene fades for the final time.

Clay was frozen.

"Do you realize thy fault now? Are you able to comprehend the weight of your sin?! Do you finally see that your actions have consequences, Puppington!?" The ethereal voice boomed. Its volume was so loud that Clay was shaken back into reality.

Clay was speechless. Instead of pleading for his case, he simply stood there thinking. He didn't need to speak, for his god could tell exactly what he was thinking.

I couldn't have done that. But I did. How? Why? What do I do!? What do I do?!

But then a thought hit him.

Just give up. You've been so dedicated to your Lord your entire life. Give everything to Him.

"Please…" Clay said, hopeless and weak. Clay then fell to his knees. He didn't dare to raise his head, or so much as stand up.

"Please what?" The deity spoke. Tears began to roll down Clay's cheeks as he remained there kneeling before his God.

"Please… Have mercy," he muttered. He was too weak to raise his voice.

"Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me. I'm weak without you, God."

"You beseech for something you could not give to your own, Clayton. The kingdom of heaven does not allow those like you."

The sword of light raised up once more, as Clay said his final vow.

"I'm sorry, Orel."

A scream rang out. The scream of a weak, hopeless, self-destructive, and miserable young boy. The light disappeared, and all that was left was a soul, going to neither heaven nor hell. The soul was trapped in the mortal world, and had a chain around its neck.

Suddenly, Orel walked into the study. As he stepped further, something came into view.

The end of a chain that led directly to his neck.

RB AND LIKE I SPENT SO MUCH TKMD ON THIS OKAY BYE

#moral orel #clay puppington #bloberta hymentact #shapey puppington #orel puppington #short story #my fic

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Jasper Hale (1/10)

Word count ; 3.9k

*Dedicated to @plumes-de-nuit. This'll definitely be the longest series yet. I... didn't realize I loved him so much.

*Also : R & Jacob & other love interests are 18. Jasper… y’all already know he ain’t a teenager.

*Edited:3

I stared out of the car window, watching as the trees passed by. Bella was beside me, and we were currently riding in dad’s police car. He’d picked us up from the airport, as we were moving here for our last few years - or, for me, a year - of high school. While Bella pitched the idea, I jumped in on it. I was eager to see the world, even if it was just Forks, after all these years. I had grown bored of Phoenix. Not just the weather, but the boys. There were no cute boys that I hadn’t already gotten or attempted to get with. 

I also really wanted - no, needed to catch a break from mom’s strict rules. She thought I was a troublemaker just because I went out a lot and occasionally got detention.

Oh, and I’d literally follow my dearest sister to the ends of the earth. But I’d never tell her that.

It was already raining. I knew that Bella hated the rain, but I loved the new scenery. 

Charlie pulled into the front lawn of a pretty standard house. It was white and green and is a two-story. I knew that it probably had a basement, though. In Phoenix, we had a flat one-story home surrounded by cactuses. I hated the weather, but I’d developed a darker tan for my s/c.

I stepped out of the back and raised my hands up the air. “Woohoo! Glad to be home.”

Charlie sent me a smile, appreciating the enthusiasm. Other people would see this scene as awkward, but that’s just how the family was. Bella was like dad, demure and introverted. And I was like mom, outgoing and extroverted.

Charlie insisted that he'd get our bags for us. I enjoyed the help, since I had a pretty hefty suitcase. Not to mention, I had a large backpack already strapped to my chest. Dad led us inside, allowing us to kick our shoes off, before showing us our rooms. 

He must’ve been going off what he knew of us when we were younger, because I knew without a doubt that Bella’s favorite color was green. However, her room was themed purple. Mine, though, was perfect. I loved pink as a kid, and I loved pink now. Was just about to get settled in when Bella hovered in the doorway.

“Hey, some people are out front. Charlie’s calling us.”

I blinked in confusion, but trailed behind her. I was already starting to get comfy, throwing my clothes all over the room. However, I knew dad was a straight-to-the-point kind of guy. As Bella commented on the plane, 'One of the best things about Charlie - he doesn’t hover.’ It was odd wording, but I knew exactly what she meant.

As we exited through the front door, I threw an arm around Bella’s shoulders. Sitting by the side of the road was a rustic red truck. I could already tell Bella was eyeing it enviously. Yet, my attention was more fixated on an older man in a wheelchair and a former childhood friend who I recognized instantly. Jacob.

We made eye contact, and I immediately sent him a smile. He smiled back. I noticed how he’d grown his hair out and he was a lot more mature than he was a few years ago. 

Charlie waved us closer. “Bella, Y/n, you two remember Billy Black.”

“Yeah!” I exclaimed, dashing forward to shake his hand. Bella seconded my statement, although in a much chill-er way. 

“Wow, you’re looking good,” Bella commented.

“Well, I’m still dancing,” Billy replied with a chuckle. “I’m glad you’re both finally here. Charlie, here, hasn’t shut up about it since you told him you were coming.”

“All right, keep exaggerating. I’ll roll you into the mud,” Charlie muttered playfully.

Charlie took a few steps away, but Billy began wheeling after him. “After I ram you in the ankles!”

“You want to go?” Charlie bickered, and as they eased around, it left Bella and I with a chance to greet Jake. 

“Jake! It’s been forever,” I cheered, pumping my fist into the air. His grin widened even further, and I opened my arms to welcome into a hug. He took it, quickly hugging, while Bella watched in amusement.

“Glad to see you’re just as energetic as ever,” Jake laughed. “How do you do it?”

“Lots and lots of coffee. And, of course, Bella’s here, too. Bella, you remember Jake, right? Or were you too tiny?”

Bella slapped my arm playfully. “You’re only a year older than me, geez. Yeah, I remember you, Jake. It’s great to see you again.”

Jake nodded to her. “Yeah, uh, we used to make mud pies when we were little.”

“Gross,” I commented. 

Bella shook her head. “You weren’t as cool as Jake and I were. Eating mud is, uh, definitely a healthy past time.”

I crossed my arms, pouting playfully.  “I just have etiquette. I am the eldest out of you two, after all.”

Jacob looked at me incredulously. “By a few months.”

Bella tilted her head over to Charlie and Billy’s antics. “Are they, uh, always like this?”

Jake bared his teeth while nodding. “It’s getting worse with old age.”

Billy and Charlie finally joined us again. Charlie patted the truck. “So, what do you think?”

“Of what?” Bella asked in confusion. I stood behind her and wrapped my arms around her shoulder, peering at Charlie with equal bafflement.

“Your homecoming present.”

Bella’s jaw dropped. “This?”

Charlie shrugged. “Just bought it off Billy here.”

“Yep!” Billy seconded.

Bella detached to me, and we both went to hug the car. “Oh, my god!” I exclaimed.

“I totally rebuilt the engine for you,” Jake spoke up.

Bella was gasping for breath, and she hopped into the truck. “Come on, seriously? This - this is so cool! Oh my gosh!”

“This so-o-o perfect —“

“Actually,” Charlie interrupted, "your mom gave me a head’s up that you’re a reckless driver. This is Bella’s homecoming gift. Your’s is still inside.”

My jaw dropped. “Wh a-a-at? You’re kidding me! I’m the best driver in the world!” I huffed leaning against the car.

Charlie shook his head, chuckling. “Your mom informed me of how you had to retake your driver’s test more than two times. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your present inside a lot more. Besides, I’m sure Bella can drive you where you need to go.”

Jacob weaved around the front, laughing at my repugnance, and hopped in beside Bella to show her the works. I was left pouting while Billy and Charlie talked. I was only a little insulted that I wasn’t trustworthy enough to sit behind the wheel, but fair enough. I’d be satisfied as long as my gift was just as cool.

“I told you they’d love it,” Billy joked. 

To be fair, though, I knew that Bella really loved cars. She’s loved them ever since we were kids. While I wanted to be a princess, she wanted to be a race car driver. Of course, both of our ambitions had changed, and now she planned on being a mechanic.

“I’m down with the kids!” Billy added, motioning ‘coolly.’

“Oh yeah, dude. You’re the bomb.” I snickered quietly at dad’s sarcasm.

I leaned into the open window when the car started up. “…Do you want a ride to school or something?” Bella inquired. I also wanted to know the answer.

“Oh, I go to school on the reservation,” Jake answered.

I pouted while Bella sighed, "Right, right. That’s too bad. It would’ve been nice to know one person.”

“You’ll be fine, Bella. I bet you’ll be friends with half the school by the end of first period,” I spoke up.

Bella laughed. “I’m pretty sure that’s you you’re talking about.”

I tilted my head innocently. “Oh, is it? I must’ve forgot.”

~~~

Bella and I hopped out of our new car. Technically her’s, since dad bought me a cool gaming console, but we’re sisters so I’d undoubtedly steal it from time to time. Luckily, the school year was just starting, so we couldn’t have stood out too much. Well, except for the fact that our truck was bright red. And my clothes were equally flashy. I loved being the center of attention, although I knew Bella loathed it. Somehow I wondered how we came out of the same vagina.

Bella and I walked side by side into the school. The weather was dreary and dismal, just how I liked it. We pulled out our respective schedules. Bella had been responsible and circled her’s, while I was only vaguely aware of what classes I’d signed up for.

Suddenly, a black haired, Asian student who was well dressed saddled up beside Bella. I dropped the schedule to my side, waving eagerly. “Hello!”

Bella jumped, meeting the boy’s gaze. “You two are the Swan sisters. The new girls,” he greeted. “Hi, I’m Eric, the eyes and ears of this place. Which of you is Isabelle and Y/n?”

“Bella, actually,” Bella tittered. “This is Y/n.”

I waved again, and the guy grinned charismatically. “Nice to meet you, Eric.”

“Anything you guys need? Tour guide, lunch date, shoulder to cry on?”

I could tell Bella was petrified. She could barely release coherent words from her lips. However, she needed to learn how to be socially inept. “Uh, I’m really kind of the more suffer-in-silence type. Y/n’s the one you should be asking.”

His gaze flitted over to me, and I switched hands, wrapping an arm around Bella. “Don’t mind her. She’s shy. A lunch date sounds great. Right, Bella?”

Bella nodded anxiously. Eric continued, not noticing her discomfort. “Good new for your feature. I’m on the paper, and you’re news, babies, front page. The title can be something freaky, like ‘opposites attract in the womb.’”

Bella looked utterly mortified. She halted in her steps. “Uh, no we’re not. I’m not. You… Please don’t have any sort of…”

“Woah, woah, chillax.” Eric waved his arm dismissively. “No feature. Unless you, Y/n, want one.”

I shook my head. “Nah, I’ll pass. It would be rather difficult to write an article and not mention my other half.”

“Cool, cool. Anyways, I’ll be off. See you two at lunch!” Eric really was off. He disappeared into the flood of people immediately, leaving me to Bella. 

She exhaled anxiously and I patted her back before looking at my schedule. “P.E. What a grand start to my week.”

“Oh, thank god,” she sighed. “Me too. At least we share one class.”

I chuckled, grabbing her arm. “Let’s get going, then. I can’t wait to meet new people. Eric’s cool, but we - more so, you - need some gal pals.”

Bella sighed, allowing me to drag her off to P.E. I knew I wasn’t the best at sports, but Bella - she was god awful. I knew she’d make a few friends from just being an athletic train wreck. As much as I loved her, she was way too perfect. Athletics was certainly her downfall.

We walked into the gym and changed quickly. The uniform was cute, a quaint tank top and shorts. Bella specifically brought sweat pants from home, as I knew she had some body insecurities. I, though, was more than glad to show some leg.

We walked out, still attached to each other’s side. I immediately waved to two girls who were playing volleyball. They waved back, motioning for us to join their team. Class hadn’t started, but the students were clearly basking in the new school year energy. The pair of girls had just been playing, but we separated into teams after a brief introduction. Needless to say, it was Bella and I against Sabrina and Jules.

“Bella, get it!” I called, too far away to get the ball. I was carrying the team, pretty much two against one, while Bella lingered behind me. 

She punched the ball, sending it into the net. I sighed, going to pick it up, while Sabrina and Jules said they were going to use the bathroom. That was code for them waiting a different partner. We waved them off. I picked up the ball and started making my way to Bella. Suddenly, a volleyball came flying past me and collided with Bella’s face.

Out of instinct, I burst into laughter, dropping our ball.

“Whoa!” a boy with dirty blonde hair exclaimed, running over to us.

Bella recovered, having caught the ball after it hit her face. She sent me a glare and threw it back at me, but I caught it, sending her a coy grin.

We both turned to the boy. He was slightly taller than both of us, and from his garb, he was probably on the school’s basketball team. “I’m so sorry about that,” he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. “Basketball’s more of my forte, not volleyball.”

Bella stuttered, waving dismissively. I interrupted, "To translate, she means it’s fine. I’m Y/n, she’s Bella.”

“Yeah, hey, I’m Mike Newton.” He held out his hand for me to shake, which I accepted. I sent him a wink, mesmerizing him further. Bella clicked her tongue, coming up behind her and placing her forehead on my shoulder.

“More like Mike Haw —“ 

I was interrupted by a girl with light brown hair, hung in a pony tail. She skipped over to us, standing beside Mike. “He’s got a great spike, huh? I’m Jessica, by the way. Hey, you two are from Arizona, right?”

“Jessica, hi! You’re so pretty,” I answered, sending her a smile. “Yeah, we are.”

“Aren’t people from Arizona supposed to be, like, really tan?” She quickly corrected herself. “No offense, though, Bella.”

“None taken. Uh, yeah. Maybe that’s why they kicked me out. Y/n, uh, definitely got out more than I did.”

Both Mike and Jessica laughed, and I couldn’t help but snicker. Mike pointed while stating, "You’re good.”

“That’s so funny,” Jessica chimed in.

Bella held up her hands, waving, as she backed away. “Uh, nice to meet you. Y/n’s planning to teach my volleyball, now so…”

“Right. See you around, Arizona,” Mike directed, more so at me.

“Right back at you, Washington and Jessica!” I winked and let Bella drag me off the a more deserted area of the gym.

“They seemed nice,” I commented optimistically.

“…Sure. But boy, are people scary.”

“Girl, get used to it. I’ll indoctrinate you into my way of life whether you want to or not.”

~~~

“It’s my pleasure, madam,” Mike suavely eclair, having taken my tray for me. Bella trailed behind me, quiet and demure as always. Bell plopped down next to Jessica, while I situated myself between Mike and Eric due to unfortunate seating arrangements. Eric was previously droning on about some project, and our appearances interrupted the conversation.

“Hey, Mikey, you met my homegirl, Y/n, eh?”

I quirked a brow, while Bella waved to the girls.

“Oh, your girl, eh?” Mike hummed.

A laugh bubbled in my throat, but in that moment, a boy appeared beside me and planted a kiss on my cheek. I gasped as he declared, 'my girl,’ before dashing away. A blush rose to my cheeks, and Bella looked more than happy to not be in my situation.

Mike’s chair was pulled from under him and I covered my mouth in surprise. “Sorry I had to mess up your game, Mike!” he shouted as he disappeared amongst the other students. Mike took off after him, leaving me mentally exhausted.

“Oh-h-h my god,” Jessica gasped. “It’s like first grade all over again. You’re the shiny new toy.”

I clicked my tongue. “It’s shocking Bella isn’t getting the attention. I mean, just look at her! Absolutely stunning. Plus, she’s got brains.”

Bella laughed, waving dismissively. Suddenly, an Asian girl with glasses and her hair done up in a pony tail leaned across the table with a camera. “Smile!”

I was caught off guard, but grinned anyways and gave a peace sign. Bella shrank away instantly, making me lose focus since it made me laugh. The girl shrunk away, muttering out an apology. However, her gorgeous smile didn’t fade.

“I needed a candid for the feature,” she explained, plopping in her seat.

“The feature’s dead, Angelia,” Eric sneered, rather hardly. I quirked a brow. Eric rose to his feet and grabbed my shoulders, leaning over. “I got your back baby.”

I was glad that it was just us girls left and Eric went off to do whatever the hell he wanted. “It’s fine…? I’m starting to think all the guys at this school are crazy,” I chuckled.

Angela scoffed. “I guess we’ll just run another editorial on teen drinking.”

Bella spoke up, clearly feeling bad for causing drama. “You know, you can always go for… eating disorders. Or speedo padding on the swim team.”

“I vote the latter,” I eagerly remarked. I slid down the bench and took my rightful place beside Bella, now that the boys had disappeared.

“Yeah. Actually, that’s a good one,” Angela agreed.

“Kirk, right? That’s exactly what I thought,” Jessica gossiped. “We’re talking Olympic size.”

“There’s no way. He’s so skinny. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I mean, how big are his hands? You know what they say about big hands,” I teased.

The girls laughed, but I noticed that Bella’s attention was strewn elsewhere. I followed her gaze, seeing that a cliche of incredibly pale and insanely good-looking people walked into the cafeteria. I noticed that Bella was most focused on the latter, the one that wasn’t paired up. There was a blonde and black haired couple holding hands, an awkward guy and a hippy and slash or tomboy bickering, and the last was silent, seemingly just as fixated on Bella.

“Who are they?” Bella spoke up, nodding to them.

“The Cullens,” Angela answered.

“They’re Doctor and Missus Cullen’s foster kids,” Jessica continued in a hushed tone. “They moved down here from Alaska, like, a few years ago. They kind of keep to themselves.”

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re all together. Like, together-together.”

“The blonde girl, that’s Rosalie, and the big dark-haired guy, Emmet, they’re, like, a thing. I’m not even sure that’s legal.”

“Jess! They’re not actually related.”

“Yeah, but they live together! It’s so weird. They’re legally family. And, okay. The little dark-haired girl is Alice. She and Jasper, the guy who looks like he’s in pain, aren’t actually together. Apparently, Jasper has some anxiety problem or something.” I glanced back at them, noticing that even with how stoic Jasper looked, he was quite attractive. “Um, Doctor Cullen’s like this foster dad slash matchmaker.”

“Maybe he’ll adopt me,” Angela sighed dreamily.

However, that information wasn’t enough to satiate Bella. Her eyes were glued to the final assumed family member. “Who’s he?” Bella asked.

“That’s Edward Cullen. He’s totally gorgeous, obviously, just like Jasper, but apparently, like Jasper, nobody in this school’s good enough for him.” Jessica snickered dryly. “Like I care, you know? So… yeah. Seriously, though, Bella, Y/n. Don’t waste your time.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Bella chided.

“Well, I might. That Jasper fella’s pretty cute for a, and I quote, 'guy who looks like he’s in pain.’” Angela snorted, and I followed Bella’s gaze. I peered over my shoulder, seeing that her and Edward were making intense eye contact. 

I couldn’t help but stare, and Jasper glanced over at us. I sent a smile, holding up my hand and waving. I noticed his mouth twitch before Alice stole his attention away. I returned my attention to the table to see that Jessica and Angela were both looking at me.

“Don’t tell me you just waved at him,” Jessica gasped. “You’re seriously wasting your time. You know that, right? What, are the guys falling at your feet not good enough?”

Bella clicked her tongue, and Angela teasingly followed up, "You’re totally a player.”

“Wha-a-at? No. I’m just friendly,” I chimed. “Besides, I’m not interested in guys like that. I have no idea why I’m the ‘shiny new toy’ when Bella’s right here.”

“It’s because I don’t make a scene,” Bella noted.

“Well, Jessica, if you’re asking if I’m interested in Eric or Mike, definitely not. I’m not blind, girl. Mike’s for you, dearest girl, and Eric’s obviously into Angela.”

Angela gasped. “You really think so? But he’s never been that friendly or flirty with me.”

I shook my head. “Nonsense. He’s just trying to make you jealous.”

Jessica laughed. “And what about Tyler?”

“Who?”

“The guy who kissed you on the cheek earlier.”

I scrunched up my nose. “No-o-o way, José. I know a cute guy when I see one, and Tyler’s not it. Jasper, though… He’s definitely my type.”

“Well, good luck. They barely talk to anyone outside their clique,” Angela sighed. “Believe me, we’ve all tried to talk to them.”

“It’s because they’re all freaks.”

I frowned, but in that moment, an arm wrapped around my shoulder. I looked up, seeing that Eric and Mike decided to rejoin the group. Eric attempted to steal the seat beside me, but Mike shoved him aside, sliding beside me with ease. He threw his arm around my shoulder, shaking me excitedly.

“Not at all, actually. And give it up, guys,” Jessica groaned. “She already has her he’s on the prize. And before you chase Bella, she’s enamored by Edward Cullen.”

“We’ve returned. I’m sure you all were dying for us to bless you with our presence,” Mike announced.

“Dream on,” Eric sighed. “Ne-e-ever going to happen. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them talk to anyone but each other or the teachers.”

Mike removed his arm and Eric sighed. “Damn, really? Oh, you’re breaking my heart, baby.”

“I’m not like my sister,” Bella tittered. “I just… think he’s interesting.”

Bella unsurely glanced over her shoulder. I did so as well, noticing that Alice and Jasper were chatting while looking at our table. Japer’s gaze flitted over to mine, and he raised his hand, giving me a curt wave and smile. My heart jumped in joy and I grinned.

Mike wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer. My expression immediately morphed into a displeased pout. I directed a glare him way, and he teasingly remarked, "Hey, I’m not going down without a fight.”

I shrugged off his shoulder. “Have fun with that, buddy.”

#yandere #x reader #x y/n #self insert #twilight #edward cullen #twilight saga #jacob black #the twilight saga #bella swan #yandere twilight #yandere jasper cullen #yandere jasper hale #jasper hale #jasper cullen x reader #jasper cullen imagine #alice cullen #jasper hale x reader #robert pattinson #jasper hale x y/n #jasper hale imagine #emmett cullen #carlisle cullen #rosalie hale #esme cullen #twilight x reader

[virtie333]

Day 30 - Life Day Damerey Celebration

Prompt: Life Day

Summary: Poe's thoughts of Life Day after personal loss

Notes: I wrote this the day after Christmas last year, the first Christmas without my mom, and it kind of sums up what the holiday was like for me that year. 2022 was by far the worst year of my life.

On the day before I posted this, I received a negative... well, not a review, but a comment... on one of my Modern AU stories.

It made me wonder how, when so many people are just trying to live their lives the best they can through horrors and depression and thoughts of suicide, why someone would take the time to hate on someone they don't even know. My writing and sharing of fanfiction has literally kept me going through all the above, so I want to thank those of you who take the time to say good things, nice things, and who understand exactly what I have been going through, because they have been there.

Thank you.

Warnings: Talk of the death of a loved one

AO3

Poe sat quietly by himself on the far side of the room, watching the many people that filled the space, but not seeing them.

He hadn’t wanted to come tonight, but Finn had begged him to, and he couldn’t deny the people he loved anything. Finn’s excuse was that it was the first Life Day since he and Rose had been married, and Poe supposed that was an okay thing to be happy about. Firsts were important. Your first Life Day married. Your first Life Day after a war. Your first Life Day after a child was born.

Your first Life Day since your father died.

Kes Dameron had passed away over ten standard months ago, and Poe had thought he was done grieving and mostly back to normal, but the holiday reminded him that normal would never be the same. He would never stop grieving. Not really. It would come and go, ebb and flow, but it would never end. As long as he loved his father, he would mourn his father.

Life Day had always been a big deal in the Dameron household. Even after his mother died, his father managed to keep the traditions they had all celebrated together the same. Only now did Poe realize how hard that must have been for his dad, and he knew the grieving man had only done it for Poe. Every year, Life Day was celebrated with traditional songs, foods, and gift giving. Even when Poe wasn’t home on Yavin IV, they still found time to connect and share with each other the events of the day. Only during the few years of the war had they not done this, if only because Poe didn’t dare contact his father; there was no way he was taking the chance that the First Order would find Kes and use him against Poe, who had been on their Most Wanted list for years.

But then the war had ended. Poe was able to go home, and he and his friends were able to celebrate Life Day together at the Dameron Homestead. Within two years, Poe was married, had become a prominent advisor for the New Republic’s Department of Defense, and had become a father. Life was perfect.

Until Kes informed Poe he had been diagnosed with lung cancer.

The doctors believed it was a result of Kes’ exposure to toxic gases used by the Empire during the Galactic Civil War. Though minimal, it had eventually caught up with him. Poe and his family took leave from their respective jobs and came to Yavin IV immediately. They were by Kes’ side when he died two weeks later.

Life had gone on. Slowly but surely, things became better. Poe had dealt with death many times. Two of his best friends, Muran and Snap, both died in their fighters right before his eyes. Commanders and those under his command, friends and former friends. The hardest death had been Leia’s, but the eminent attack from Palpatine’s fleet had prevented him from focusing too much on that loss until much later. He had loved them all in one way or another, but none had been his father.

Now it was Life Day, that special holiday that he and his father had always managed to share the same delight in. And now his father was gone.

He wasn’t mad at the people around him for celebrating. He wasn’t jealous of their joy. In reality, he simply felt nothing. No sorrow. No resentment. He was just… empty.

It was while the group in front of him started singing one of his favorite songs for Life Day, Gaudete, a familiar and beloved presence appeared next to him. He closed his eyes, letting the ancient High Galactic language play in his ears as the feeling of comfort and peace filled him. The Force. Sometimes he thought it was the only thing that had gotten him through the last few months.

He felt his wife, the bearer of that powerful Force energy, tuck her hand under his arm and lay her head on his shoulder. She he never strayed far from his side this past horrible year, despite the fact they both had obligations away from each other. Even when they were apart, if he started having a depressive episode, she would know, and come to him. She claimed she wasn’t using the Force to read his emotions, but that she could simply tell by his voice, his body language, the look in his eye even over a holocom. And when she was with him again, life became bearable once more.

Which told him that it wasn’t the Force that had kept him going.

It was Rey.

She never pushed him to talk, but she listened when he did. She never told him he should talk to a councilor, but she encouraged him when he chose to. She never pressured him to ‘just do it’ when he didn’t want to. She was his silent support, her strength and love palpable, even to a non-Jedi like him. He asked her once how she could still be there after so many months of his moodiness and disassociation. She reminded him that he had done the same for her during the months following Exegol. It was how she fell in love with him.

And as Poe felt her physical and mental warmth fill him, he realized with a strange certainty that he was falling in love with her, all over again.

He heard the familiar giggle of his daughter, and looked over to see Suralinda dancing to the music with the almost 2-year-old toddler in her arms. Little Leia had a huge smile on her face, her cheeks rosy red from the excitement of the evening. For the first time in days, Poe felt a real smile form on his lips, and a new determination in his heart.

He would grieve this first Life Day without his father, as was expected. But by next year, his little girl would start making memories of her own, and Poe was determined to make them as good as his own memories were.

He looked at his wife, letting is smile carry over to her. She smiled back, then picked up his hand and kissed the back of it. “Happy Life Day, Poe.”

“Happy Life Day, my love.”

#fanfiction #damerey #jedipilot #poe x rey #tw: death #life day #depression #comfort

[artificial-ascension]

I like to imagine Beyond's hypothetical shinigami dad (mom? I just find it more likely he was human born since he's... clearly a human with at least one shinigami power and if he was birthed by a shinigami he'd probably be more like a nerfed shinigami just by like... Pokemon breeding logic I guess) is a shinigami we haven't seen rather than a pre existing character simply because 1. That's another character oh boy how fun and 2. I feel like there'd have to be some ramifications of making such a beast. Like if extending human life is a crime punishable by instant death how is making another human also not a punishable offense? Like at the very least put them in time put for that. Don't just let them hang about with everyone else.

Anyway my personal take is that B's shinigami dad was summoned (I imagine there has to be some way to summon a shinigami, or at least ask for one to come down or something) by some shinigami worship cult or whatever and for whatever reason, decided to bone some human women and create Beyond Birthday. The shinigami king was like hey, what the fuck dude, penis privilege revoked for all of you and Beyond's father was permanently shunned by the rest of the shinigami because jacking off was the only other thing to do besides gambling.

The shinigami king had to make a whole bunch of rules about how Beyond should even function and assigned his father to look over him to make sure he wasn't being too much of an issue. Beyond's dad was already a very finicky and active shinigami so following some guy around earth wasn't ideal but he got to spend time with his kid I guess.

He never actually showed himself to B, kinda just doing paranormal shit like dropping things or moving things in his room when he wasn't in there. The reason why was that he didn't need B going full crazy and trying to convince everyone he was haunted by some freaky monster because B was already something of an outcast and didn't need another reason for people to hate him.

One interesting little idea I had was the concept of shinigami eye inheritance. My idea going that the eyes are a recessive trait and can only be introduced into the gene pool by someone having a child while they had the eyes. If both parents have them when the kid in conceived a child with be born with the eyes. B's mom made the deal and his dad was obviously a shinigami so he has the eyes. Now an interesting side effect of carrying the gene means there is a chance to recognize the vague visage of shinigami without touching a notebook. Not being fully capable, but still understanding that something was there. Basically, A happened to carry the gene because someone in his family had they eyes in the past meaning he could see B's dad following him. Now obviously B's father didn't account for this because honestly the chance of a human carrying that gene is so extremely slim and he only made an effort to hide himself from B so A got to see the distorted face of death and maybe that may have acounted in his unfortunate demise but hey he was gonna die young anyway and at least the visage of a death god haunting your friend helps inspire you to make cool horror art.

Oh also the reason B wasn't killed instantly is because the shinigami king was curious as to how his life would go. It went bad but he was amused by the LABB murder cases (obviously shinigami kid would not be in trouble for murder, it's literally in his blood.)

#death note #beyond birthday #labb #labb murder cases #just ramblings

[tigirl-and-co]

Middle-Aged Man (But Not a Dad (Probably))

Heyooooo, back at it again with a super rough draft for a fic!

inspired by @dballzposting but especially THIS post!

Basic plot summary is Trunks accidentally imprinted on Yamcha like a baby bird but is too emotionally stunted from growing up with the least familial family in all of classic anime to realize that he's being weird as hell about it.

To nobody's surprise, it's a character study! Woohoo!

And before we begin, I wrote almost all of this while dead tired, so it's probably even rougher than my usual rough drafts, but good god I wanted to write this sooooo bad.

Obsession ran on both sides of his family. This was an issue for Trunks, as he'd really fucking rather be thinking about quite literally anything else. But here he was, at the get-together-slash-party-slash-ritual-to-appease-a-big-purple-cat-with-food-so-we-don't-get-blown-up, staring at his mom's ex from the other side of the dessert table.

And praying said ex wouldn't look up from the eclairs he'd never be able to afford otherwise and see Trunks' stupid, stupid eyes staring at him.

But he did.

Fuck.

"Hey, Champ! How've ya been, Buddy?" Yamcha said, in his stupid fucking aging dudebro voice that filled Trunks with an overwhelming sensation of warmth and comfort. He hated it. Yamcha smiled at him the way, Trunks thought, a dad smiles at his somewhat estranged son.

It was probably a kinder smile than his real dad gave when he hugged him for the first time. Not that Trunks would know. Couldn't really see Vegeta's face, too busy experiencing every emotion he could name and also being shoved against Vegeta's inhuman, statuesque form.

It fucking felt like being shoved face-first into a statue, too.

Not like Yamcha probably felt, with his all-too-human physique. There was a softness that covered his features, even though he was still as tough and muscular as ever.

He kinda reminded Trunks of the big blue guy from Monsters Inc. But like, less serious. And very slightly less hairy.

Trunks had been staring too long, but apparently Yamcha was willing to write off the icy glare as a genetic thing and not an actual threat, because he approached the teen with no hint of trepidation.

He stood in front of Trunks and hucked a thumb at the spread of confections behind him. "Yo, you tried the weird cream cake thing? The one covered in chocolate? No idea what it is, but it is good!"

Trunks tried desperately to claw himself out of this conversation with "It's called an eclair cake." He wasn't sure whether or not he had meant to sound that gruff. Either way he sounded too much like his dad, and it pissed him off more.

"Yo, what? They can make eclairs into cake? That's crazy!" Yamcha took pause and then nearly busted his gut, laughing a bit too loud like guys that age tend to do. "But I guess when you're rich, you can pay people to cook up just about anything!"

There! An opening! Trunks knew how to win this conversation and then make his getaway!

"Actually, Yamcha, I think it's just graham crackers, pudding, and chocolate. Pretty simple recipe. I can ask the cooks to give it to you."

Yamcha blinked. "R-Really? That's it?" He sighed. "Well, as much as I'd love to eat cake all day, I really shouldn't." He slapped his gut, which jiggled slightly. "I'm at that age where I've gotta start watching what I eat or I won't be in any shape to show off to the ladies, haha!"

Trunks immediately threw his gaze to his shoes. He fucking lost that interaction, and now he'd have to talk to Yamcha for however long the older man could stand him. Fuck. Well, Trunks knew how conversations worked. He'd seen the guys at Kame House get into it sometimes, and since Trunks was no longer a child, he figured he should talk like that. The ball was in his court.

"Ladies, huh? What... sort of ladies are you into?"

Fuckin' killed it.

~~~

Now it was Yamcha's turn to be cornered. Was it okay to be talking about that kind of stuff with a kid? With someone else's kid? With the kid of somebody he dated?

But he couldn't just say that! Trunks was at the age where he was starting to go after the ladies himself, and Yamcha didn't want to discourage that! He had to find a middle ground, hopefully there was an avenue in this conversation that wouldn't lead to either of Trunks' parents hitting his head clean off his shoulders.

"Um. Your-" NONONONO CAN'T MENTION BULMA. "I m-mean, I like women who..." and how is he supposed to word this? Obviously he's not gonna say 'pretty women' because that would sound so damn shallow, coming from him. "I like. When girls. Can stand on their own... but enjoy having someone around to make their lives easier? I guess?"

He ran his hands through the hair on the back of his head. "To be honest, kid, I'm not really sure anymore! The more I think about it, the more I realize that sometimes people you think should work don't, but the real crazy shi- the real crazy stuff ends up better." Yamcha laughed the kind of shitty laugh you let out when you're nervous and stalling for time. "What about you, Trunks? You a ladies' man? Got a preference?"

~~~

Well, Trunks had been expecting an answer like 'I like redheads' or 'I'm a boob guy' so he was a little unsure of his next move, but he had to think of something to say!

"Um idk there's this one YouTuber I like." Trunks crossed his arms. "So you like women like my mom, right? It kind of sucks that she ended up with my dad."

Yamcha couldn't move. He wasn't sure he was breathing, either. "H-Huh?"

"Yeah 'cuz you probably woulda been a way better husband. All my dad does is train all day and then sit at the table and stuff his stupid face." Trunks put his fist on his hip. "You like watching movies and being nice and shit. I dunno."

~~~

Yamcha was desperately hoping Vegeta wasn't going to manifest behind him and reduce him to ashes. The things Trunks was saying were weird, sure, but the whole family had always been blunt. Trunks probably didn't mean anything by it. Not that that would stop either of his parents from hunting Yamcha down if they heard.

And Yamcha wasn't stupid! He had issues with his own parents, way back when. It's what eventually led him to become a bandit out in the middle of the desert for Chrissake! But he had just wanted to be a dude Trunks could come talk to if he was having the sort of human troubles an ex-evil alien dad couldn't help him solve, and apparently he had been too approachable. Or Vegeta really did just suck that bad.

Either way, oops.

"Hey kid, l-listen! You can't just say things like that!" Yamcha sighed deeply, trying to compose himself. He was still looking around like a raccoon that could hear hound dogs braying, but at least he stopped stuttering.

And then he saw Trunks' face harden even further, scowling angrily. The tykebomb looked like he was barely resisting shouting his next statement, and Yamcha was very glad for that.

~~~

"I'm not a fucking kid! Goddamnit, I'm just trying to have a normal fucking conversation, why are you being so fucking weird about this?" Trunks would have been a truly intimidating sight to behold at this point if he wasn't three-foot-five with lavender hair. "And I was gonna apologize for suckerpunching you that one time when you stayed over, but you can fucking forget it! I'm glad I punched you!"

~~~

The older man knew he had to take responsibility here, because apparently he was right and neither of the kid's parents bothered to teach him the difference in how you're supposed to talk to people outside your own home.

...Thinking on it, neither Bulma nor Vegeta had ever deferred to authority in their lives. Vegeta had a habit of trying to kill anybody stationed above him, and Bulma either screamed until listened to or flashed her tits at someone until she got her way.

Fuck him, maybe he would have made a better parent! Too late now, though.

"No, Trunks, that's not what I meant," he reassured the stunted youth. "I want you to know you can talk to me about stuff, alright? But maybe- maybe not out where your parents can hear? The earth dragon balls can't bring me back again, y'know?"

Trunks looked back up, waiting to hear the rest of the statement.

"And I mean, actually you probably shouldn't say that sort of stuff, because it makes people uncomfortable, but-" here he took the chance of fucking it all up even worse and ruffled Trunks' hair. Trunks didn't even flinch and Yamcha didn't know what that meant. "We're already friends, right? And friends can totally say that sort of stuff. In private."

Trunks met him dead in the eye, unblinking and unemoting. "Okay."

Yamcha chuckled unconvincingly. It fooled Trunks, though. "So, were you actually gonna apologize for that gut punch, or...?"

"No."

"So, what? You were just gonna feel like shit about it your entire life? Until you died?"

"Yeah."

"Haha, okay then! Did... you want a slice of this, um, eclair cake? There's not a lot left!"

"Sure. Can I call you 'Uncle?'"

Yamcha tensed up just slightly, before letting it drain out of him. "Not where anybody who might tell your parents can hear, okay?"

"Deal."

#dbz #dragon babble #my writing #yamcha #trunks briefs #piccolo in the distance losing his shit like 'oh my god im so glad the kid who imprinted on me was normal' #HE WASN'T YOU WERE JUST ALSO STUNTED #fic #fanfiction #dragon ball #my eyes hurt. #LET ME BE CLEAR THAT I LOVE BOTH OF THESE CHARACTERS OR ELSE I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO WRITE ABOUT THEM #i just. love weird dynamics and fucked up characters who don't know they're fucked up #or like. they're just now sort of realizing it #but yeah alternate title is 'yamcha gets piccolo'd'

[just-antithings]

Bugging y'all once again, may the gods forgive me. This is in response to anon talking about people hating polyam folks and I take a while to actually mention the polyamory thing but

People are tiring, mostly when they refuse to have any willingness to reevaluate their views.

My grandparents on both sides were pretty racist for most of their lives. My grandparents on one side still are. One has always been friendly but has talked to me so infrequently that I legitimately couldn't ever remember his name until I was 25. The other I talk to more than most extended family, but was so awful to me growing up that my mother almost cut contact with her for it. I don't think my grandma on that side even started to like me at all until I was like 18.

On the other side of my family, my grandparents were also pretty awful at points. But I didn't know this growing up. They were always amazing to me, to my siblings who weren't blood related to them, and to my mother. None of the children in the family knew they used to be racist.

My mom told me that, even when they were still actively racist at the beginning of when she and my dad got together, they never were unkind to her. Anything that has to say they only said to my dad, their son. And they pretty quickly realized, "Oh, wait, we were wrong on this one" because they adored my mom, adored me from the moment I was born, and even sat my mom down when it was clear my father wasn't good to her and told her she would always be their daughter even if she left him. They would be on her side, because it didn't matter if he was their son if he was hurting her.

There was a willingness to reevaluate their beliefs and be kinder people despite what they were raised to think and what they had thought for a long time. And I got to see it about so many things.

My grandma very casually mentioned to me once when we were watching TV when I was maybe ten or eleven that when she and my grandpa were younger they lived next to a triad. She said two men and a woman who lived next door were all in a relationship and that she wasn't sure how she should feel about it at first but ultimately they were all happy and good to each other and good people who she was happy to have known. And she was fine with polyam folks ever since.

All of us have had a belief we later disagree with, especially some of the beliefs we were raised with or were dominant beliefs in the culture we grew up in. And being able to give those beliefs further thought, especially when you meet people who you used to think poorly of, is so vitally important.

It's also vitally important not to decide someone is an awful irredeemable person because they used to have a harmful belief that they later realized was harmful and changed on, which certain people also have a hard time with. It is a little baffling when someone demands other people to have always and forever held the correct opinions on things or they're garbage and always will be because they have to know they don't fit that standard, right? Literally everyone changes on things.

.

#mod erin #ask #posted without comment

[missbunmuffin]

More punch out head canons

Tw: talk about weight issues

Less serious tw: ocs and cringe

What me putting my shitty ocs in these posts is like. I made posts about both of them probably gonna say this kind of stuff every time I post these kind of things but I don’t want people to be too confused.

Glass Joe

- Grew up in a catholic home but now as an adult doesn’t practice the religion really. He will eat meat on a Friday during lent. He doesn’t know what the fuck he is now he just considered himself spiritual or just a really bad catholic(not self projecting lmao)

- His family wasn’t really religious they only went to church sometimes but his mom wanted to do the no eating meat on Fridays during lent thing for some reason

- His sister just drops her kids off at his house randomly most of the time on Wednesdays because apparently French children only have like half a day of school those days(could be wrong) he loves his nieces but he hates when his sister just drops them off without warning because he has a life too.

- He loves silk textures. I feel like his boxing shorts are just really silky too

- Deadass walking around the locker room in a robe with a towel over his head after he’s done in the shower I drew an example back in like December

Yes that’s the same robe he’s wearing in the pity party drawings I made

- Protective over his hair but he doesn’t mind if people touch it as long as they ask and are gentle

- His hair is also pretty soft and he takes good care of it to prevent further damage from when he bleached it himself and a chunk fell out.

- Into Rococo art. I took a humanities class at the beginning of the year and looked into the rococo art movement a bit and apparently it’s French so I always thought he would like that kind of stuff.

- uses a lavender sleep spray

- tries not to get too angry in public. Sometimes he just needs to leave the room to just pout and let it all out sometimes even crying out of anger

- has quite the collection of sweaters and cardigans.

- Loves baking cookies for his girlfriend Eleanor. Shes a baker herself but she loves his cookies more than her own

Von Kaiser

- Cuts his own hair this fucking video is literally him

- secretly a cross dresser I mean this one might be kind of canon because of the weird chibi drawing of him in a Japanese manual for the nes game. Some of the other ones were so racist though ;-;

- Wasn’t really interested in working with children it just sort of happened

- Either way he cares about his students genuinely even if it doesn’t seem like it

Disco kid

- got banned on Roblox for a day for saying suck toe(totally not based on my cousin who is like the same age as him also getting banned for that) yes I’m sharing this drawing again

- Singing as loud as possible in the locker room showers

- If he has kids they aren’t going anywhere near the mall Easter bunnies and Santa’s he doesn’t trust them and neither should you

- He never hits the villagers with nets in animal crossing

- Has two sisters one older one younger

Aran Ryan

- Afraid of needles

- Has weight issues. He’s too focused on numbers on the scale. He knows nothing is wrong but I think some things the people around him said growing up affected him.

- I mentioned his sister Freya also has body issues in my post about her and Aran tries to support her because he doesn’t want her thinking that way about her body like he does. I imagine a lot of the women on his father’s side are naturally more curvy and he doesn’t want his sister to be ashamed of her natural body type.

- Still visits his grandmas house on his dad’s side even as an adult. He’s one of the only things she has of his dad that she has left.

- Plays Roblox with Disco kid and forces Narcis to play with them. He also bullies kids on there

- His mom was struggling fanatically a bit when his sister was about to go into secondary school. He just got into boxing at that point and was getting paid well so he paid for her school uniforms so she didn’t have to be stuck in his old ones that were too big and had rips in the pants that would probably fall down on her. He insisted he’d at least buy her some skirts because she’s not walking around school like that. He also felt bad because she literally cried at the thought of wearing a “boys uniform”

Narcis Prince

- Was like one of those rich British kids in tv shows and movies.

- He snoops in people’s shit all the time. Looking through drawers and reading peoples diaries.

- Would say British schools are crazier than American schools and than flip out at the stories in American schools and regret what he said instantly

- Tries to look after Freya to get on Aran’s good side. They have a complicated relationship. Deadass tries to put her to bed at 8:00 saying some shit like “young ladies your age need to be in bed by 8:00”

Okay this is getting long I’ll stop now

#punch out #punch out headcanons #punch out oc #glass joe #von kaiser #disco kid #aran ryan #narcis prince

[jewishregulus]

hold on because your thing with alecto carrow & the carrow twins……… you really did something there

listen okay i could go so crazy about them . i have so much lore trapped away in my brain . but i am going to summarize so fast and quick bc they drive me crazy….

general info abt both of them : they r born in japan bc the carrow family moves there post grindlewald and their mom dies and when she dies they move back to the england but they r poor af after everything so pureblood society looks down on them for being traitors. cue them fighting the entire wizaridng war to be given respect and seen as a genuine member of the sacred 28 and using intimidation and violence to do so… a if i cannot be better than them i will be so much worse moment . their dad is normal and loves them very much they just choose to be evil like that. their mom was a sweet angel also and everyday i cry over her even tho i invented her to be dead . whatever

alecto has a weird misandrist complex in which she hates men but is also performing for them all the time , a man hating lesbian who also can’t escape using the patriarchy to validate her skills and ambition. she loves spiders bc they are matriarchal . she bases her worth off of how well she appeals to others and has so her whole life to the point she barely has a sense of self . she wants to kiss lily evans on the mouth and she worships her like an absolute angel it’s serious and vicious . the few scraps of herself she has left are all about knowledge. she is obsessed w language and translation and tries to learn literally any language she can ever . despite this she still can’t give herself a voice . she wants barty crouch jr dead for the crime of being a man and a degenerate which like fair of her . evan n reg r chill tho bc game respects game . i think if she got the chance to explore Life she’d actually choose to become a teacher like voldemort Made her become , but she would be actually pretty good tbh. her and barty regularly brawl in the teachers lounge. alecto kicks his ass. in the modern college au in my head they are regrettably roommates and each conversation they have sets gay lesbian solidarity back 15 years . alecto is studying classics and women’s studies as a minor …. ik feminism is a big part of her character but chat do not reduce her to this u don’t get it … she has a deep connection to lady macbeth and the movie the handmaids tale . here is her vibe :

and amycus is his mothers son who does whatever alecto wants him to bc he just wants to be by her side. they are so aggressively co dependent . he is obsessed w magical plants and herbology and his favorite thing in the world is a magical venus flytrap he keeps in his dorm that evan keeps putting random drops of blood into the mouth of . his dream career would probably be using magical plants to make new medicines n poisons n such . hogwarts resident weed dealer . therefore he n barty r actually chill . he just misses his mom like so much 😭 he is consistently in morning over the life he could have had . he’s pretty good friends w everyone he’s not like a loner but he is lonely deep in his chest…… of course bc alecto is his sister #feministwomenloveamycuscarrow . every carrow is linked to an insect in my head and amycus is a praying mantis . …. he has the same capability for cruelty like he also is on the field w alecto during the war but like he’d rather be gardening :/. modern college au he’s probably studying biology and is the rlly menacing president of the gardening club. and u think this means he is secretly sweet but he’s literally evil. him n reg have a crazy friendship going in in which they do the craziest romantic shit but it is completely platonic. i’m talking like candle lit dinners . in my head he has a weird situationship w rabastan (who is another story….) but also i have a *whispers* oc….. who in the fic i have planned for them in my head (which i will never write) he ends up w and his name is maxx <3 but i will never talk abt ocs on here . i have some shame. amycus would follow alecto to hell if she asked (he just wishes she would stop going the- *car runs me over*)

here’s amycus vibes

i have so much more i could say abt them . there is so much in my head they have such a deep and complex story … i will take any excuse to yap abt them . anyways they are both gay and one day i will write the alectolily sugar mommy au in which lily is the sugar mommy bc she’s a super famous author n alecto works at an antique book store doing translation n repair <3333 and it’s completely accidental lily keeps paying to borrow these super old books and eventually she just pays for alecto to come over and help her research and then one thing leads to another . and alecto is guffawed when she realizes. amycus. thinks it his hilarious. i think her and lily would have an academic rivals to loves thing going on in canon and in like Any school setting but also just in general. they could be 5 years into their relationship and still competing to be the smartest . i think there is rosekiller alectolily double date hilarity potential. also have a lot of thoughts abt them paralleling to the rosier twins but what do i know … i will leave that to the masters ….

anyways that was my yapping . hope someone felt enthralled .

#alecto carrow #amycus carrow #marauders era #marauders #death eaters #yap tag #there is so much more to say this barelt scratches the surface #unfortunately i work for 9 an hour at a chain pet store so i cannot yap

[i23kazu]

valorant found family brainrot below: disclaimer: these are all my personal hcs. if you disagree, please just move on :^) they may be very ooc also im very new to valorant so some things i say may or may not be canon. pls dont hate huhu

ok i intentionally made the young adults abit more kidlike FOR A REASON bc they make my brain go weewoo in a very very good way.

firstly – roles!

• dads of the year go to cypher and brimstone. cypher can be a gentle dad and he's usually the comfort / gentle dad that the younger agents like. brimstone tends to more of the discipline / also comfort side of being a parent, but its safe to say that both dads can switch roles easily. the agents love them :) (also the voiceline from the killjoy-cypher interaction talking about the dark web makes my brain go to mush.)

• moms of the year goes to (obviously) sage! and more distantly viper and reyna. i love the idea of the other two being more mentor-like towards some of the agents – like viper to raze and reyna to jett and killjoy. i read about it somewhere and i'm not sure whether it's canon but its defo fanon in my mind. sage is #1 mommy (heh. sagemommy69) and she's genuinely so gentle and loving its unreal. it hits harder for jett because of the whole omega-alpha counterpart venice confusion thing that left her and her bio mom's relationship cut off.

• uncles include breach, omen, chamber, kay/o, harbour. the tough love uncles: breach, chamber, sometimes omen. i can see kay/o and harbour being uncles that offer a bit more TLC when people need it though. i like to think that killjoy and chamber have a somewhat okay relationship because of them being brainiacs <3 again im not too sure what's canon and what's not but this just made sense in my head

• aunts include fade, astra and skye! i was debating on whether or not i should put skye as one of the moms but she defo gave me more of a big sister/aunt vibe so she's here. fade is one of the agents that the younger agents can talk to about their problems – she's more down to earth than anyone else and can often get phoenix and jett out of their heads. astra has a super comforting vibe but i love the hc that she can do really good girl talks with the female agents. and skye is just comfort. she lets neon and jett play with her wolves :D

• second to last; sova gets his own category because i wasn't sure where to put him – as a kid or an uncle? but i realised there was a middle ground hehe. therefore, i give him the burden of being the oldest sibling – the innate nature to protect and care, but also the longing to be cared for the way he does for others. all the younger agents regularly go to him for advice because of his calm, cool and collected nature! he also just generally gives good advice while instilling confidence in his younger siblings teammates.

• lastly, the kids <3 phoenix, yoru, jett, raze, killjoy, neon! i loveloveLOOOOVE the idea of the five being siblings since they're all relatively close in age – yoru albeit reluctantly, i think. phoenix and jett get along so well ; a bit too well, the older ones think. they're often up to pranks around headquarters and regularly get raze onboard, and neon likes to tag along with her squish-squish attached to her hip. yoru begrudgingly takes care of the younger ones like killjoy and neon, although killjoy protests that she doesn't need his protection. (yoru does it out of his respect for reyna.)

secondly – more headcanons!

cypher knows how to do the girls' hair because of his daughter.

brimstone has a soft spot for the younger female agents (/p) and often lets them out of training early, much to phoenix's disdain.

sova gives HELLLAAAA good advice!!! plus he's literally free-flow confidence. he oozes confidence to his teammates.

cypher can cook really well and often makes dinner.

astra loves sitting down with her girls and talking them through whatever problems they have.

secretly, yoru goes to reyna to talk to her (get comfort) when he wants to (when he desperately needs validation from a parental figure)

harbour and breach both train the younger team!

when missions go well, brimstone and sage treat the whole team to a good meal.

when neon gets nightmares, the #1 person she goes to for comfort is cypher!

yoru also likes to hang out with omen because #emobois support group is definitely a thing

sage tries to get jett and raze to read more as a pastime but that usually fails. because the both of them cannot sit still for the life of them

skye and sage try to get everyone to sit down and have a meal together every week bc team bonding! but ofc that doesnt always happen bc of how tired the agents are from their missions.

sometimes neon feels left out bc of how young she is compared to the rest of the agents — even the younger group :,) ♡

the team likes sharing songs from their native languages!!!

also hc that cypher knows how to speak multiple languages and once he heard neon listening to pano by ZT and he just went “sweetheart who hurt you”

and neon is just shocked bc tf???? dad knows how to speak my language??? yes he does hes a cool dad

sova sometimes gets torn between the whole needing to protect and wanting to protected and the parents definitely give him the option sometimes when he looks so burnt out

sage loves talking with him because of how reliable and collected he is and she loves to give him advice when he needs/wants it! (ofc, he defo asks for it)

cypher uses a lot of petnames!! sweetheart, darling, dear, etc <333

brimstone’s knows all of the agents favourite foods and he tries to cater to everyone’s likes for dinner at least once a month bc the smiles on their faces are #worthit #loreal #becauseyou’reworthit

honest chamber is just there and viper just. does not vibe with him. she tries to leave the room when he enters but i love the hc that once he tried to kabedon her to stop her from leaving but she flipped him around and kabedon-ed him instead. then left like the girlboss she is

skye takes over the medbay healing when sage needs a rest!!!

also i think sage and omen’s relationship is slowly getting better but i like the idea of them being able to communicate without talking. just body language — nodding heads, eye contact, head pointing, etc

reyna trains the agents very hard but she also gives good breaks!!

once she tried to squeeze neon’s shoulders because the girl was clenching and neon yelped. turns out she’s not a massage person yoru is though and he goes to her when hes alone (/p)

game nights!!! phoenix beats everyone and got cocky until he played with omen and omen TRASHED him. so bad to the point where yoru started patting phoenix’s back out of sympathy

riot please just give yoru a good support system he needs to work out his anger issues and aggressiveness

brimstone and kay/o can often be seen hanging out together i like that

kay/o tried knitting once and hes not bad at it! just that it was too tedious and now he has a half done scarf in his room.

raze and cypher like to bake together :) <3 (theres a fanfic about this on ao3 but i cant rmb the name)

harbour is the second agent the younger ones go to for advice, next to sova!

also movie nights. when they watch horror movies, fade can be seen putting a palm on whoever’s knee to comfort them a little bit :,) its her own way of loving others

ok this is getting very long i’ll make a part 2

#[📝 stewardess' notepad!] #valorant #valorant headcanons #valorant found family #valorant fanfiction #parental sage #parental brimstone #parental cypher #long post

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

hey there! so I was wondering if you know any fic where the Hales are alive and stiles doesn't know about the supernatural yet or one with alive Hales and stiles & cora friendship

We went with the Cora and Stiles friendship!

@kevaaronday made this list.

Dude, Werewolves by mysecretashes (29,623 | 1/1 | Explicit | Sterek) Stiles gets partnered with Cora for a history project, and they become bros. Also, he kind of falls in love with her older brother, Derek.

Flirt Responsibly by Halevetica (24,572 | 21/21 | Not Rated | Sterek) Life for Stiles Stilinski is pretty good. He lives with his dad and two sisters in the small town of Beacon Hills, but when an old family moves back into town, Stiles can't help but notice how attractive Derek got, only Derek seems to be into his sisters rather than him.

Derek Hale has moved back to Beacon Hills due to his mother's job. He remembers the Stilinski siblings, but he doesn't remember them being so good looking. Derek finds himself drawn to one in particular and can't seem to keep from making a fool of himself whenever they're around. Not that they notice him anyway.

Snowed In by paintedrecs (16,292 | 1/1 | Teen | Sterek) As far as Derek could tell, Cora hadn’t asked if she could bring someone home for the holidays. She’d barely even bothered to give a heads up: she’d texted from the rest stop that was almost exactly halfway between campus and home, by which point it was much too late to tell her to leave this unwelcome intruder—some guy named Stiles—behind.

***

Derek loved Christmas. Family-only Christmases, that is, which Cora had thrown a wrench into this year by bringing home a guy who turned out to be handsome, funny, brilliant, and...of course...completely unavailable.

Or so Derek thought.

Daisies and Dandelions by Divinae (12,873 | 8/8 | Not Rated | Steter) It was suppose to go like this...

Danny has the 'talk' with Alpha Hale and joins the pack while Stiles and Cora take their newest friends out for a nice picnic. 

Then they'd all hang out and enjoy a peaceful rest of the day at Hale Manor to mingle with the pack.

Things don't always go as planned.

Would you care if I came back? By HopeSilverheart (7,583 | 1/1 | Gen | Cora/Lydia) “And finally, Cora and Lydia.”

Cora froze in her seat at the proclamation, her jaw clenching almost painfully as she angled her body towards the right side of the room and caught sight of Lydia Martin frowning at her. She wondered if there was a chance she could convince Mister Yukimura to pair her with Theo instead.

She had known the redhead forever, and she didn’t want to spend any more time with her than was strictly necessary. Was it not enough that they had to see each other every month during Beacon Hills’ secret supernatural meetings?

Or: Cora & Lydia are forced to work together on a project together. The two girls hate each other, until they don't.

Oh, That Summer Lovin’ by SassyStarboard (4,191 | 1/1 | Teen | Sterek & Cora/Lydia) Lydia, the head cheerleader to Derek's basketball captain, was every high school boy’s dream. They were both charming and popular, strong-willed and sharp-edged. On paper, they were the perfect match. The perfect crime.

***

How do two teenagers get around their parents' oppressive dating rules? By fake-dating each other's partners, obviously.

trace and memorize by StarAmongStones (2,588 | 1/1 | Teen | Sterek) “If mom asks, I’m working on a project for school," Cora says, already halfway up the stairs.

The boy in front of Derek clears his throat, face splotchy in embarrassment, and says, “We are actually working on a project together. I don’t know why she said it like that.”

“I literally don’t care,” Derek says, turning back to his laptop.

Fake relationship matchmaking by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving (2,279 | 1/1 | Gen | Sterek) In which Cora devices a plan to set up her brother and best friend that would never work outside of a fictional piece of work

Steady Me Now (You Are My Anchor) by scarlettletterr (1,551 | 1/1 | Gen | Sterek) Cora had thrusted the VIP pass in his face the second he walked into the cafe and Stiles hadn’t been able to say anything other than "Yes, Cora, I’ll be there."

AU where Stiles and Cora have been friends since they were in diapers, the Hales are alive and Laura, Derek, Erica, Boyd and Isaac are in a rock band, the Hale fire never happened (but Jackson was still a kanima), and Stiles is in love with the grumpy and gorgeous sourwolf of a bassist of "Alphas".

AND

@midnightwinterhawk suggested these ones!

Snowed In by paintedrecs

(1/1 I 16,292 I Teen I Sterek)

As far as Derek could tell, Cora hadn’t asked if she could bring someone home for the holidays. She’d barely even bothered to give a heads up: she’d texted from the rest stop that was almost exactly halfway between campus and home, by which point it was much too late to tell her to leave this unwelcome intruder—some guy named Stiles—behind.

***

Derek loved Christmas. Family-only Christmases, that is, which Cora had thrown a wrench into this year by bringing home a guy who turned out to be handsome, funny, brilliant, and...of course...completely unavailable.

Or so Derek thought.

Backstage is Full of Parasites by Falln_Grce

(14/14 I 61,349 I Explicit I Sterek)

A little tweak to the Teen Wolf universe where Stiles learned to take care of himself from a young age. And despite going through trauma as a child, he's 17 now and has adjusted to the new normal as well as he can. With a soulmate-AU just to keep things interesting.

What if the Sheriff didn't turn to alcohol when his wife died... What if he focused all of his attention on helping a seven year old, recently removed from an abusive home, Isaac get settled into the Stilinski household... Where would Stiles fit into that world?

Dirty Little Secret by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(2/2 I 91,001 I Explicit I Sterek)

“Holy shit, this is a date!” he blurted out, turning back to Derek wide-eyed. “This is a date! You intended for this to be a date, this was supposed to be a date!” He figured if he said it enough times, maybe he would believe it, but so far, no dice.

Derek was scowling again—seriously, did he want wrinkles?—but he just reached into one of the bags and pulled out a burger, checking what was written on the foil in sharpie before handing it over to Stiles.

“Of course it’s a date, what did you think this was?”

#teen wolf #sterek #steter #stiles stilinski #derek hale #cora hale #lydia/cora #high school au #anon