#and forced my mom to come see him with me

[onlymurphy]

Save You a Seat

SPOILERS: Very Minor Whole Cake Island

Happy Father's Day! I adore these two but only time to write a little thing today. I hope you enjoy!

Ever since the birth of your son, Sanji has been struggling with accepting the fact that he's a good dad. His past lingers, and he's terrified he won't be everything his son needs. So, you intervene with the only person Sanji will always listen to. His dad.

Sanji x fem!reader (no y/n)

Fluff

GA

TW: Mentions of a hard labor, pregnancy

Cross-posted on A03

Request here

“Why is it taking them so long?”

You smile to yourself, continuing your scrubbing of baby bottles and pacifiers.”They’ll be here, dad. Don’t worry.”

The title still makes Zeff perk up a bit as if he’s shocked to hear you say it. It’s been three years since you married Sanji, and Zeff still seems as though he can’t believe that little girl that used to run around his restaurant is now his daughter-in-law. It forces him to look at his own little boy as a man, a husband, and a father. 

You turn the faucet off, turning to smile at the grumpy old chef at your kitchen table. You never thought you’d see Zeff on the Thousand Sunny. You had even started to question that you’d ever see him again, but when an old Marine friend of your dad offered to bring him to a meeting point to surprise Sanji for Father’s Day, you jumped at the opportunity.

He huffs again. “Doesn’t my brat know better than to keep an old man waiting?”

“I thought you told me when you made it out here that you weren’t that old” you remind him, hoping to tease him enough to take his mind off the fact that Sanji is late. “Only an old man when you gotta make Sanji do some work?”

He smiles a bit at your attitude. As much as you used to torture him as a child with your antics, he can’t deny that he’s always had a soft spot for you.

“You know, you’re just as much of a snot-nose little brat as you were when you were small” he replies. “Got a mouth on ya.”

You laugh. “Keeping you on your toes, dad. Keeping you on your toes.”

Before Zeff can respond further with what was surely going to be a bite back at you, you hear excited chatter begin on the deck.

Sanji’s back.

Zeff immediately makes a move to stand up, groaning as he rises and looks toward the door.

You know he’d never admit, but this is the most excited he’s ever been. He hasn’t seen his son in three years. He’s heard so much about your adventures -many dangerous- and hasn’t been able to check to see if his child is okay. You could practically feel the rage radiating off his voice when Sanji got to call him after the events that took place on Totto Island a few years back. Zeff was so angry with Big Mom and Vinsmoke Judge that the two of you had to talk him out of hunting them down himself.

You know it all comes from a place of love. His child was hurt, and there was nothing he could do.

The separation is hard. He missed your relationship with Sanji. He missed your wedding. He missed the birth of your child.

He’s never even met his grandson.

Of course, you’ve sent Zeff a million photos of baby Noah since the boy’s birth. He knows almost everything the baby does from Sanji’s letters, even knows the story of him being named after his uncle, Roronoa Zoro. Sanji has been treating the letters to his dad as a type of journal, telling him all about Noah’s terrifying birth in which Zoro had to deliver the baby alone on the Sunny during a storm. You were stunned at how emotional the letter was, how open Sanji was to his dad about the fear he felt when he finally got to return to the boat and found not a pregnant wife, but a wife and a son. He even admitted that he was the one to suggest the name Noah after Zoro, honoring the baby’s uncle for delivering him safely.

The door to the galley finally opens, tearing you away from your thoughts. Sanji enters with baby Noah bouncing about in his arms. The infant babbles away, drawing all of Sanji’s attention as he doesn’t even notice his own father standing before him.

For just a fleeting moment, you see Zeff staring at his grandson with something in his eyes you’ve never seen. He looks soft, at peace as he watches Noah nibble on Sanji’s fingers, the chef cooing over the mischief of his son.

“Oi” Zeff finally says after a moment of silence. “Don’t you know it’s not polite to ignore your guests?”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know we had-”

The sentence dies on Sanji’s lips when he sees his dad. He just stares, eyes not blinking as his brain rapidly tries to catch up to the view before him.

You make sure to scoop Noah from Sanji’s arms before he drops the little boy out of shock. He doesn’t even seem to notice when you take the baby. He’s too focused on staring at his dad, mouth slightly agape, hands beginning to shake just a bit.

Zeff smiles that gruff, sweet smile of his. “Happy Father’s Day. That’s a cute kid ya got there.”

Sanji says nothing, just stares the man down as if he’s completely forgotten how to speak. When Sanji doesn’t make a move to approach, Zeff closes the difference between them.

“Brat” the older man mumbles, wrapping his arms around Sanji and pulling your husband into his chest.

Sanji caves instantly. He falls into his dad, body collapsing as a small sob finds its way up from his chest without restriction or shame.

“Look at you” Zeff tells him, his hand coming up to ruffle his son’s hair. “What happened to you lookin’ like a string bean? You look like a man.”

Sanji doesn’t have anything to say. He just clings to the man, holding tight as if one wrong move could rip him away forever. He’s freely crying now. It makes your heart ache just a bit, but you know the tears are a release. Sanji -after all the horrors he’s been through since he left his dad at Baratie- needed something more, the love of a parent to ease some of the pain. You know he too thought he’d never see Zeff again. The relief you can virtually feel coming from the pair is enough to move you to crying yourself.

You feel tears of your own pricking at the corners of your eyes. Noah stirs in your arms, reaching for his dad and beginning to fuss.

Sanji separates himself from Zeff to look back at his own son.

“Noah” he begins, his voice a bit nasally as he recovers from the sobs that were just wracking his body. “Come meet papa.”

Papa. Finally hearing the name used with the man himself right in front of you makes a tear slide down your cheek.

Noah has a grandparent. After showing him photos, pointing to Zeff, and telling him stories, he finally gets to meet his papa.

You approach the men with Noah in your arms. The baby gets increasingly more excited the closer the gets to his dad, but when Zeff waves to him slightly, the baby goes quiet.

You rub his chunky little hand. “It’s okay, Noah. That’s papa, you’ve seen his picture.”

The baby doesn’t seem so sure. He side-eyes his grandfather with an expression that is all Sanji and snuggles against you.

Sanji reaches out to stroke his son’s back. “It’s okay, No. It’s okay.”

“I know you’re tougher than that, eh kid?” Zeff teases, reaching out for the boy. “You’re a pirate after all.”

Upon hearing his grandfather’s voice, Noah reaches for the outstretched hand and gently takes one of Zeff’s fingers in his fist. The chef lights up in a way you’ve never seen. With great care, he strokes the back of the baby’s hand.

“You’re a strong little thing” he compliments the boy. “Gonna be a damn good pirate when you’re a little bigger.”

Noah’s confidence seems to be growing as if he understands his grandpa is complimenting him. He reaches his chunky little arms out, a big smile on his face as he tries to grab at his grandfather.

“Take him” you urge Zeff. “He wants to see his papa.”

Zeff appears hesitant at first, looking to both you and Sanji. Your husband gives him a smile.

“Go ahead” he presses.

Zeff looks to you one more time before reaching for the little baby. You’re happy to hand Noah over, watching with a smile as your son immediately reaches for his grandfather’s face.

Zeff chuckles as the baby tugs and pulls at the braids of his mustache. Noah is giggling up a storm in his grandfather’s arm, swinging his little legs and bobbing about.

“He really likes you” you assure Zeff. “I think he likes your mustache.”

The chef lets out a laugh. Noah laughs right along with him.

“You’ll be big enough someday to have your own mustache, little man.”

You roll your eyes. “Stop talking about him getting big! He’s just our little guy for now.”

Zeff looks to Sanji, now rocking the baby on his hip. “Little Eggplant here sprung up like a goddamned weed. They grow up fast if you’re not watching ‘em.”

Sanji gives a soft, embarrassed smile. You can’t wait to tease him later about the softness of his dad’s words. 

As much as you don’t want to leave this adorable scene, you have to grab a bottle for Noah. You turn, heading toward the cabinet.

“You want to feed him, papa?” You ask, looking at the gentleman over your shoulder.

Your heart almost melts when you watch Zeff kiss the top of Noah’s head and nod. It’s nearly a crime that Zeff didn’t have Sanji as a baby. You know for sure that Sanji’s life would’ve started out with love and care, not the horror he was born into.

You set the baby’s bottle on the stove, letting it warm. You don’t want to let Sanji know that you’re listening, but you can’t help but eavesdrop a little on the men’s conversation.

“He’s something, huh?” Zeff tells your husband. “Good thing he looks like his mother.”

Sanji huffs a bit. “I think the same thing. He looks just like her.”

You pull the bottle from the stove, smiling a bit to yourself. It isn’t true in the slightest that Noah looks like you. He’s all Sanji from his pale hair to his sweet and delicate facial features. He is Sanji’s little boy through and through.

You head around the kitchen counter and hand Zeff the baby’s bottle. “Ever fed a baby before, dad?”

He takes the bottle from you, staring at it oddly as he shakes his head.

Sanji steps in. He grabs the bottle, reaching out to adjust his son in Zeff’s arms.

���Hold his head like this” he directs his father. “And his bottle like this. He’s a good eater, so just hold it steady for him.”

Zeff follows his boy’s directions, Noah immediately taking the bottle into his mouth and settling comfortably back into his grandpa’s arms.

Sanji is smiling ear to ear. You know what he’s thinking in this moment. He never thought in his complicated upbringing that he’d be able to have a family like this. You know from being his best friend in childhood that a wife and children never even crossed his mind. His only example of love had been his own biological parents, and that wasn’t even love. Despite being a hopeless romantic, Sanji didn’t believe in marriage in the slightest until the two of you fell in love. This is everything he’s ever wanted and thought he’d never be able to have.

You place your hands on Zeff’s shoulder, gently guiding him down into a kitchen chair beside you.

“You’re a good dad it looks like, Little Eggplant” Zeff compliments. “Little guy eats good. He’s strong. He’s tough.”

Sanji takes a seat across from his father. “I can’t wait to cook for him when he’s done with milk. I want to teach him how to cook.”

“He’ll be amazing at it” Zeff assures. “He’s my grandson after all.”

All Sanji can do is smile, and you feel the same. You’ve never quite known peace like this. Here you are, in your beautiful home with your beautiful family and your amazing crew. So much has happened to the two of you over the course of your relationship. To have this reward is more than anything you could’ve ever dreamed of.

A knock on the galley door grabs everyone’s attention. You all turn, watching as Luffy’s head pops in.

“I know you guys are having some kinda thing” he begins, only his eyes visible to you through the cracked door. “But I’m really hungry.”

~

Sanji cooks a special supper for the entire crew and Zeff. The dinner is beautiful. The evening is the most perfect of your life. To see Sanji and Zeff cooking together while you watch with Noah in your arms makes you feel like you’re floating. The rest of the crew is over the moon to be able to meet and see Zeff, and you can tell he’s elated to see the way that they play with Noah. He’s already insanely protective of the little boy, hovering to ensure he never bonks his head or crawls on the rough wood. You hate to think  how difficult it’s going to be when he has to part ways with his grandson.

It’s hard to even get Noah away from him to head to bed. The chef has the itty bitty baby sleeping in his arms, reading to him slowly from his travel log that Nami dug out for him. Noah looks more restful than he ever has. He drools away in his grandfather’s arms with a soft, easy look on his face.

You approach Zeff who now has Noah asleep on his chest. He looks up when reach him.

“I hate to take him, but I have to put him in his crib” you whisper. “You’re free to get him when he cries tonight.”

Zeff smiles softly down at the boy. “Go with you mama, Baby Eggplant.”

You could scream about how adorable the whole scene is, but you settle for a smile so big that it hurts the corners of your mouth.

You lift the baby into your arms, rocking him gently so that he doesn’t fuss. When you’re sure the baby is still softly sleeping, you look back down to Zeff.

“Thank you for watching him so much today” you tell him. “I got a lot done.”

The old man grunts. “Better watch the little man. I’m still looking for a new sous chef since you stole mine.”

You smile. “Will do, old man. You can take Ji back with you when you go.”

Zeff grimaces, looking over to his son who’s arguing over something with Zoro as the two lean over the railing of the ship.

“I’d rather have the baby” Zeff teases. “Won’t give as many customers concussions.”

You just give him a small laugh. “Thank you for coming all the way out here for him, dad. Happy Father’s Day.”

Zeff gives you a soft and genuine smile. “Go put that baby in his crib. His cooking lessons start tomorrow, gotta be rested.”

You turn to your husband, gesturing up toward your bedroom. He abandons his argument immediately and comes to you, stroking Noah’s back. You never thought there’d be anything in this world that could get Sanji away from an argument with his rival, but baby Noah seems to always do just that.

You say goodnight to your crew as quietly as you can manage. Everyone turns to you, smiling and waving as the three of you disappear into your bedroom.

Sanji is sure to shut the door behind you when you reach your room and set Noah down in his little crib. He barely stirs at all, safe and secure in his bed at last.

Your husband walks beside you to wrap his arm around your waist. Together, the two of you lean over the baby’s crib.

“Thank you” he whispers, turning to look at you. “For Zeff. And for Noah. You made me a father.”

You lean up to kiss his cheek. “I’m so glad you enjoyed your day. I know you’ve been kinda going through it lately. I wanted it to be special.”

His face goes sad then as he looks back down to your son. Truth be told, fatherhood has been hard for Sanji. As much as he loves his son, he struggles everyday to believe that he’s a good father. Every little move he makes has to be perfect, and if he messes something up, it bothers him for the rest of the day. You know that his biggest fear is hurting Noah in any way, shape, or form. Your difficult labor was agonizing for him to hear of. He beat himself up for days over the fact that the storm had kept him from witnessing his son being born.

“I love him so much” Sanji muses. “He’s perfect.”

“He really is” you agree with a sigh.

The two of you share a quiet moment staring down at your son, Sanji’s hand slowly rubbing up and down your side.

Eventually, he looks to you. “I’m a good dad.”

The statement takes you back a step. You know this to be fact - Sanji is every kid’s dream father. For him to just say it, however, is wildly out of character for him.

“I know” you assure him. “You’re an amazing father.”

You can tell by the look in his eyes that he so badly wants to reach into the crib and hold his son close, but in true good father fashion, he allows the boy to sleep.

“My dad called me a good dad” he breathes. “He didn’t need to be my dad. He chose to be my dad, and he still says I’m doing a good job when he gave up everything to take care of me.”

You snuggle into Sanji’s side. “He didn’t give up everything when he started taking care of you. That’s when he finally got everything, Sanji.”

You hear your husband sniff. You know the emotions have been flowing hot lately, so you just give him space. He deserves to express himself and not feel like he’s being watched.

So, instead of speaking, you just squeeze his hand and join him in gazing down at your son, his perfect father safe for now in your arms.

[estellan0vella]

Family Ties Older Brother Sukuna AU HFBU

You sit on the couch in the living room of the home you share with Sukuna and Yuji. Nervously, you fidget with the hem of your shirt, glancing at the clock. Your parents are due to arrive any minute, and your stomach churns with anxiety. Sukuna sits next to you, his arm draped casually over your shoulders, sensing your unease.

"They'll be here soon," you say quietly, trying to steady your breathing.

Sukuna squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, babe. We've got this."

Yuji, playing with his toys on the floor, looks up at you with a bright smile. "Are your parents coming, Y/N/N?"

"Yes, Yuji," you reply, forcing a smile. "They're coming to meet you and Kuna."

Yuji grins, but you can't shake the nervousness that's settled in your chest. Your relationship with your parents has always been rocky, and Sukuna knows this, and he's prepared to stand by your side no matter what.

A knock on the door startles you, and you take a deep breath before standing up. "I'll get it."

You open the door to see your parents standing there, your mother with her usual disapproving frown and your father with his stern expression. "Hello, Mom. Hello, Dad," you greet them, stepping aside to let them in.

Your mother barely glances at you as she steps inside. "So, this is where you're living now," she says, her tone laced with judgment.

"Yes, it is," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Your father follows, his eyes scanning the room critically. "It's smaller than I expected."

Sukuna stands up, his presence commanding as he extends a hand. "Sukuna. Nice to meet you."

Your father shakes Sukuna's hand, though he does so with a begrudging look. "I'm Mr. L/N. This is my wife."

Your mother acknowledges you with a slight nod before turning to Sukuna. "And you are?"

"Sukuna," he repeats, his voice firm. "This is my little brother, Yuji."

Yuji looks up from his toys and waves enthusiastically. "Hi!"

Your parents give Yuji a cursory glance before turning their attention back to you. "So, how have you been?" your mother asks, her tone indifferent.

"I've been good," you reply, though you know they don't really care.

Your father snorts. "Still dealing with that epilepsy nonsense, I assume?"

You feel a pang in your chest, but before you can respond, Sukuna steps in. "It's not nonsense. It's a serious condition."

Your father raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "She's always been dramatic about it."

"Yeah," your mother chimes in. "Always making a big deal out of nothing. You'd think she was the only person in the world with problems"

You bow your head, trying to hide the tears that threaten to spill. Sukuna tightens his grip on your shoulder, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Don't talk about her like that," he sneers.

Your father scoffs. "Oh, come on. It's just epilepsy. Maybe she needs some electroshock therapy to snap out of it."

Yuji, who has been listening quietly, suddenly jumps up, his small fists clenched. "Don't say that about Y/N/N! You guys are being meanies!"

Your mother looks taken aback by Yuji's outburst. "What an unruly child."

Your father sneers. "Looks like you're teaching him well, Sukuna."

Sukuna's eyes narrow dangerously. "Watch your mouth."

Yuji, seeing the distress on your face, stomps over to your father and kicks him in the shin as hard as he can. "Get out! You're making Y/N/N sad!"

Your father yelps in pain, hopping on one foot. "What the hell, kid?!"

You can't help but laugh, the tension momentarily broken by Yuji's fierce protectiveness. Sukuna chuckles beside you, clearly amused by the situation.

"Are you going to tell him off?" your father demands, glaring at Sukuna.

Sukuna smirks, his expression deadly calm. "You're lucky it was the four-year-old who kicked you and not me. Now get out before I throw you out."

Your parents look outraged, but Sukuna's intimidating presence leaves them no choice. They huff and puff, but they turn to leave.

"This isn't over," your father says, pointing a finger at you.

"Yes, it is," Sukuna retorts, slamming the door behind them.

You stand there in stunned silence, the weight of the encounter settling over you. Tears well up in your eyes, but this time, they're not just tears of pain—they're tears of gratitude.

Sukuna turns to you, his expression softening. "You okay, baby?"

You nod, wiping your eyes. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you."

Yuji runs over and hugs you tightly. "Don't be sad, Y/N/N. I love you."

You hug him back, feeling a surge of love for the little boy. "I love you too, Yuji. Thank you for defending me."

Sukuna joins the hug, wrapping his arms around both of you. "We're a team, remember? We've got your back."

You nod, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Despite the rough start, you know that with Sukuna and Yuji by your side, you can face anything.

Later that evening, after the house has settled down and Yuji is tucked into bed, you and Sukuna sit on the couch, the events of the day replaying in your mind.

"You really didn't have to do that," you say softly, leaning against his shoulder.

Sukuna kisses the top of your head. "Of course I did. I'm not going to let anyone treat you like that, especially not your own parents."

You sigh, the reality of your strained relationship with your parents settling in. "It's just hard, you know? They've never understood me."

Sukuna tilts your chin up, looking into your eyes. "They don't have to understand. You've got us. We're your family."

A tear slips down your cheek, and Sukuna gently wipes it away. "Thank you, Kuna. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He smiles, a rare, genuine smile that makes your heart skip a beat. "You'll never have to find out, baby. I'm here to stay."

You lean in and kiss him, feeling the love and support he's always given you. No matter what challenges come your way, you know you can face them with Sukuna and Yuji by your side.

As the night grows darker, you cuddle closer to Sukuna, feeling safe and loved in his arms. The events of the day fade into the background, replaced by the warmth and comfort of your small, loving family. And that's all you'll ever need.

taglist: @sad-darksoul

[angelyuji]

homelander realizing that you could make a great mom to ryan and kidnaps you, but realizes you were partly why ryan is not like him??? yeeah im thinking thoughts.

tw // physical abuse, mental/emotional abuse, implied noncon, homelander being homelander

honestly the ending got pretty sad idk why i think its cuz i feel so bad for ryan becuz he deserves so much better than shitty homelander and i wish his mom didnt die poor baby angel :( anyway....

"what have bullshit are you teaching him." john's face, twisted with wrath, was only a few inches away from you. you try to inch back, but he grabs your face. gripping your jaw with one hand, he forces you to look back at him. "answer the fucking question, (y/n). what poison- what LIES are you teaching my son?" your face hurts and you feel tears well up in your eyes.

"dad, she's not doing-" ryan tries to interject, to stop his father, but john raises a hand at him.

"don't. don't protect her. talk now, (y/n), before i really get angry." his eyes flash red and you feel your heart stop.

you sniffle, "john, i swear i'm not teaching him anything. i don’t know-” before you could finish, john backhands you, sending you to the floor. your vision goes white from the pain and you can’t help the screaming sobs coming out of you. when you look up, you see ryan in tears. you can’t even muster a smile to make him feel better.

“ryan, go to your room.”

“but-”

“NOW.” you hear ryan’s defeated steps go up the stairs. your scalp stings as john grabs a fistful of your hair to pull you up. “my son is the most powerful creation on the planet alongside me. i will not let you turn him into a pathetic, worthless worm like you. understand, (y/n)?”

his face is close to yours. you can feel his fury and you nod, afraid to speak.

"say it. say you understand."

you choke, "i understand... i'm sorry, john." his grip loosens and you collapse to the floor, shaking wth sobs. you hear him huff quietly to himself.

"so fragile and weak, why would you think ryan should be like you and not me, his father?" you look up at him and he stares down at you. you try to speak, but he holds a hand up. "i don't want to hear it." you look down. the room fills with silence, interrupted occasionally with ryan's footsteps from upstairs. "fucking pathetic." you hear him mumble. "go upstairs and collect yourself. i don't want to hear your sniffles when i fuck you tonight." he rolls his eyes and waves you away.

you stumble up the stairs and finally make it to the bedroom, collapsing into the bathroom. you sit in the bathtub, knees against your chest, sobbing.

"y/n?" a small voice comes from in front of the door. you quickly wipe your tears.

you clear your throat, "come in, sweetheart!" you watch as the door is opened, hesitantly. ryan comes in, slowly, and closes the door behind him. he looks at you, eyes filled with guilt. he sits down next to the bathroom. "you're growing up so fast..." you try to smile and brush your hand through his hair.

ryan puts his head down on the edge of the bathtub, "i'm so sorry, (y/n)..." your heart hurts and you cup his face in your hands.

"none of this is your fault, ryan. you did nothing wrong." you watch tears fall faster down his face. you pull him into a hug. the edge of the bathtub was digging into your skin, but you felt ryan relax and you knew you could be in pain for a little while longer.

[luxury-nightmare]

mom says that it’s my turn on the writing

They’d been caught.

Police sirens blared outside the barn, shocking Alex out of their uneasy sleep. The lights outside painted the barn in red and blue.

Clyde barged into the barn in a panic. “Human we need to leave”

Alex grabbed their bag and sprinted out the door, only to be met with the horrifying sight of a cop car parked right outside. They froze, then started to dig through their bag for a weapon as police swarmed onto the scene. Out of the corner of their eye they saw Clyde dive onto the nearest one, ripping him to shreds with it’s claws.

Looks like they were fighting their way out of this one.

————————————————

Clyde was panicking, fueled by pure adrenaline and fierce determination as it moved onto the next cop. It could ignore the exhaustion that plagued it for a moment as it torn through the officers.

It felt a shock run up its spine. It snapped around, only for the shock to return with vengeful force, a police officer holding a taser standing behind it.

Only for a crowbar to hit him on the side of the head. Alex stood behind the cop as they went for another swing. Their eyes were full of fear, but Clyde could see a spark of white-hot fury behind them.

Alex extended a hand. The eyes were visible in their hair again, their illusion fading through the sheer stress. Clyde grabbed their hand and the two started to run. They were outnumbered, and Clyde wasn’t stupid enough to let its pride blind it to danger.

A buzzing sound rang through the air, and Clyde felt the shock a third time. It snarled, whipping around and striking the assailant with it claws. The exhaustion came back with incredible force, and Clyde stumbled back a little in dizziness.

It saw the officer sneak up behind Alex, ready to tase them down, and Clyde lashed to protect it’s friend, it’s family.

Wait, what?

And suddenly, Alex wasn’t there anymore.

Clyde had never been more thankful for its illusions acting subconsciously in its life. It turned to the officer, ripping through his chest, and turning to next one with rage in it eyes, eyes so heavy from exhaustion. It lunged, only for a sharp pain to shot through its shoulder. It turned around to see a police officer holding a gun in his shaky hands.

Clyde turned to lunge at the cop, but before it could, he pulled the trigger, and another flash of pain sent it reeling back.

And another

And another

And as it lost consciousness, it wonder if it would get to see Winfrey again soon.

————————————————

Alex hadn’t left the barn for hours, and Simon was worried. It had come back to the barn in ruins, and Alex had tried to explain what happened best they could with their broken sign language.

Clyde had been taken, using its illusions to hide them before it was carted off to the asylum. Simon was terrified, utterly confused on what to do next.

But if Simon was panicking, Alex was completely devastated. They had sat in the dark for hours, surrounded by nothing but their own illusions. Simon had taken a look inside a couple minutes ago, and the whole room was dark.

Lit up only by illusions of yellow eyes and crooked grins.

Simon heard the door creak open, causing Simon to turn around quickly, to see Alex walk out from the darkness. They had given up trying to make themself look human in any capacity, and Simon finally saw what they looked like underneath the falsehood.

Their form was dripping and unstable, crooked stripes lining their arms, ebony black claws gripping their crowbar. The bones of wings stuck out of their back, dripping with void. Their face was completely covered in shadow, crooked eyes burning with determination and rage, inhuman teeth pulled back into a snarl.

Are you coming they signed. Simon looked at them confused “what are you talking about?”

I’m going to the asylum. I’m getting everyone out, are you coming with me?

Simon looked at Alex in shock “Alex, you can’t. You’re unstable and it’s to dangerous-“

Are you coming? They signed aggressively.

Simon looked at them, at the sheer rage in their eyes, and nodded.

———————————————— Clyde woke, exhausted and in pain. It shuffled upwards, gripping its bullet wounds. The costume shifted uncomfortably against its skin. It took a couple moments to take in its surroundings.

It heard muffled voices from just outside the large steel door. Out of curiosity it moved closer to hear more clearly.

“I said I wanted 01 in prime condition, instead your men turned around and made Swiss cheese out of it!”

Rage curdled in its stomach. It knew that voice.

“I’m sorry sir, but it brushed off three tasers like it was nothing and killed at least six of my men.”

“Never mind. At least it’s here. Where it specimen 03?”

“I don’t know sir. They just disappeared”

“What do you mean they disappeared? Did you forget they could make illusions?”

“…”

“Incompetent. All of you”

All of a sudden Clyde heard a shuffling behind it. It’s tail shot upwards in fear. It was in no state to fight, and whatever was in this room with it was probably bad.

“Clyde?”

Wait

It knew those voices

It turned around-

“Winfrey?”

[kesouu]

Blue Star☆｡⁠*✯ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

(⁠☆) Narumi Gen x Oc

(｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ CHAPTER 1 +ﾟ⁠*｡⁠)

(⁠｡⁠•̀✧) FIRST POST IN A WHILE SO WHY NOT MAKE A SERIES??

13 years ago...

A 12 year old Hoshiko stands before a crowd of older boys unconscious on the floor and a boy her age in the center of the chaos.

"Hoy! Your all bruised up!" She yells cupping her hands around her mouth to emphasize her voice "What's it to you?!" The boy yells as he snaps his head in her direction with a scowl on his face which morphs into surprise as the girl walks towards him avoiding from stepping on the boys on the floor to grab the bruised boy's wrist. "Oi?!-" was all the boy could yell before he was being pulled and yelled at "I'm going to patch you up at my house! No complaining!" The girl exclaims.

Narumi, Hoshiko learns, hisses at the antiseptic she dabs on the boy's wounds. The boy was propped up on a counter, his head unfortunately forced by the girl to rest on her palm as he flinched away from the burn of it on his cuts. "You take punches but not betadine?" She laughs as she grabs a plaster to place on his face as she hears him huff in annoyance. "Aren't you that guy who aces all his classes but can't stay unsuspended for the life of him? We go to the same school." Hoshiko says gently placing the plaster on his face caressing it with her thumb to smooth it out. "Yeah, you done yet? If you are, I got a game to finish so-" Narumi was about to jump off the kitchen counter untill Hoshiko stopped him.

"Go to me when you get bruised up again." Hoshiko says sternly holding onto the boy's arm "Thank you so much, mitsuba-san" he says just as sternly until he yells out again "IS WHAT I WOULD SAY IF YOU DIDN'T NAG THE WHOLE TIME?! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WANTED THIS AND YOUR THE ONE COMPLAININ'?" Narumi yells holding up his middle finger, in retaliation, she holds up her own and argues back "My conscience couldn't walk away when i saw you, okay!? I knew first aid anyway my mom taught me..."

Silence follows the outburst as Narumi scoffs "I don't care about you or your conscience if that's all that made you want to do this. It's just because you want to feel good about yourself..." He lowly says to the girl who's eyes widen at the anger and the twinge of sorrow in his words. "...I've always survived on my own no one has done me any good in this world anyway so leave me alone."

Narumi finally jumps off the counter top but was stopped at the front door yet again "You sure are stubborn." He says, an irk mark appearing on his cheek. "I get that a lot" Hoshiko smirks as she continues "Listen, you say the world hasn't done good for you right? Well let me be the first to give you good, come here whenever you like, let's be friends." The boy infront of her stares in shock and confusion 'Why the hell is this kid doing this..' "You have a wierd way of making friends you know that." The girl nods and moves out of the way of the door "I know, that's all I gotta say so your free to go." Narumi reaches for the doorknob and as he twists it Hoshiko speaks up again "I hope next time you come over it's not after you beat up more random guys alright?"

"Are you kidding me." Hoshiko was out in another one of her afternoon walks to see Narumi beating up another bunch of older boys. 'might as well lessen my job later' she thinks as she digs around in her pocket 'there you are...' she says grabbing her magic stick as she pulls the screw at the end and it extends and she goes to join in on the fight.

"You don't have to do this." Narumi says holding a guy by his hair as he watches Hoshiko hit another with the end of her stick "I don't learn bojutsu to just rot in the dojo you know." She huffs as the last of the group was on the floor to then turn to the boy she was with -

"Guess I'm going to be patching you up again, right?"

"Do whatever you want"

"You don't have to do this." Narumi says for the second time that day "But I want to" the boy who was sat yet again on her counter top furrows his eyebrows in frustration "You'll stop doing it eventually when you don't want to anymore." He says, the boy feels a slight pang in his chest at his comment "Nah I could get used to this I like patching you up now, you are my friend now, right?" Narumi stares at her as she smoothens the plaster on his cheek again with her thumb "You were serious about that?" And the girl hums as she began to clean up the mess she made.

"I better not catch you in a fight again, sheesh are you like a gangster or something? So many people have some sort of grudge on you. Its the weekend and all you've been up to is being ganged up on??" She says bewildered "Not my fault they don't mind their own business." The boy looks away his bangs covering his eyes Hoshiko then brightens up at the sight "I'll be right back!" She says before disappearing up the stairs leaving Narumi in the kitchen, from his position he can clearly see the living room so curiosity takes over him as he jumps off the counter to explore the room.

'Theres only older pictures of them together' Narumi thought as he stared at the family pictures on the wall 'they have a huge tv and a console too, might stay here a while then' crouching down to look at the console connected to the tv as he heard footsteps going down the stairs "Got you something!" Hoshiko says hiding an object in her hands as she descends the stairs "Look!" She stands beside Narumi to show him multiple clips shaped like stars "I am NOT wearing those." He glares at her as she laughs "Come on! It's to get your hair out of your face!" She whines as she tries to put it in his hair "No way! I like my hair like this!" He yells trying to push her hands away "Just this once!!"

The couch cushions were all over the living room, pictures were now hanging crookedly on the wall, coffee table not in the same position it was in before from the wrestling the two children did as Narumi sits with a scowl on his face as he plays with Hoshiko on her console with an assortment of different colored star clips in his hair "They look good on you" Hoshiko snickers without looking away from the screen "Shut up." The boy says as he glares at the tv in frustration "How are you so good at this!" he complains as the girl laughs "You're just ass at it thats why." she says beating Narumi in a match for the 3rd time "Forget it! I'm going home!" He says slamming the controller on the coffee table "No you aren't! You're helping me clean the mess we made!" The boy grows an irk mark at the girl's demand "Why should I clean?! You started it?!" He yells pointing a finger at the girl "You were the one who started throwing pillows!" She argues back.

"That was harder than I thought..." Hoshiko says looking at the living room they just cleaned "I would have been home by now fighting the final boss of my game." Narumi crosses his arms as he stands beside her "Well you're free to go home now." The girl says looking at the boy beside her as they walk to the door. "Did you have fun?" She says teasingly to Narumi's displeasure "...It was ok" he rolls his eyes and continues "Do I really have to keep these on?!" He says angrily and Hoshiko laughs at his frustration "Duh! I have loads of those things so its fine if you keep them." Narumi huffs out a breath and turns his back to the girl "Fine, I'm going home" he says as he walks away from the door raising his hand to wave "Bye! Get home safe!" The girl yells. On his way back to the orphanage Narumi feels a tingle in his chest 'The world is finally showing me some good huh?'

-☆☆

[quitealotofsodapop]

Mei is both proud and very unhappy with the grounding. True, she didn't know her little buddy was actually Sun Wukong's son until about ten minutes ago, but her parents got to meet her little brother figure, and they think he's adorable! Wukogn makes sure to warn them of potential baby layers, tho, new powers and all. Luckily, that's not something new to the Ao Long household considering how Mei holds a certain Ring.

That conversation has to be one of the msot awkward Wukong has ever had up to that point tho, calling up Ao Lie's great granddaughter to tell her that her daughter, whom she hadn't even realized knew him, had gotten his son, who nobody even knows he has, into a bit of trouble and now DBK is free and all the parents to the kids involved in freeing him are coming together for a tea party to figure out, essentially, what's next.

Wukong, astral projecting: Hello, yes, Mrs. Long? Lovely to speak face to face, I knew your grandfather you know, but that's not why I'm calling. Um, so it's about your daughter.

Yi Li: What!?

Wukong, getting nervous: Uh... yeah, see, she and my kid have gotten pretty close. Mr. Tang is his tutor, you see, and they tend to have their lessons at the Noodle Shop she works at. Well, I let Mei take my little Xiaotian out with her for some of her delivery runs aaaand... next thing I know, the Demon Bull King is free.

Ye Li, already suspecting: Oh no... dont tell me, it was her!?

Wukong: From what I understand of the events, she was pretty involved and stuff... so do you mind coming over for some tea with me and the Demon Bull Family so we can kinda... figure out our next steps? They've called a bit of a truce for now after meeting my kid.

Ye Li: Of course! Just give us a few minutes to clear our schedule and we'll be right over... oh and please tell my daughter she's grounded.

Wukong: Alright then! See you there! *turns to unseen person as he begins to fade out* Hey Mei your mom says-

prev post. @soniclozdplove;

+an earlier ask;

Ao Yi and Long Cháo have long accepted that their baby girl is a lot more... firey than a normal water dragon pup. But they never believed in locking her up or forcing her to suppress her boundless energy.

So when Mei came to them wanting to get a part-time job as a delivery job so she could have "real life" experience, they were fully supportive.

They think it's really cute how she's bonded with her boss and some of the regulars. Mei especially mentions a little demon monkey named MK who's obsessed with the Monkey King, and is about to become a big brother. The Ao-Long's only met MK and "Mr Qi" once when they decided to visit Mei at her work. The little boy was so excited about going to school and becoming a big brother - even though "she's taking a long time." Mr Qi just laughed and explained that he was a little overdue. The dragon couple thought the two were an adorable parent and child, but Ao Yi swears she recognises Mr Qi from somewhere...

Wukong, astral projecting in: "Heeeeyyyy Mrs Long." Ao Yi: "Sun Wukong? Why, I haven't seen you since I was a pup. What brings you here today?" Wukong, stalling a bit: "Well it's about Mei- she's not in trouble don't worry! Well maybe a little in trouble... she was doing a delivery when she and her little stowaway came across my Staff and DBK's resting site. Iron Fan and Red Son included." Ao Yi, going pale: "She didn't." Wukong: "She didn't - but Red Son did. And then MK managed steal it off of him. Mei grabbed him and bolted before any fighting could happen but they got chased." Ao Yi, frustrated and worried: "Oh sweet- Cháo! Our daughter somehow helped release an ancient demon king!" Long Cháo, running in: "Is she ok!?" Wukong: "Oh yeah she's fine. Nobody got hurt. DBK was a lot more forgiving once he properly met MK-" Long Cháo, piecing together the lore: "Wait isn't that the same MK who gets tutored by Mr Tang? Isn't Mr Qi... pregnant?" Ao Yi, raises brow at Wukong: "Yes. Yes he is." Wukong, laughing nervously: "HAHA! Yeah! Surprise! I uh... have a kid and one on the way. Long story." Ao Yi: "Great-Grandfather did say you had an Egg with you throughout the Journey. I had assumed he was rambling, but this explains so much..." Wukong: "Yeah, I've been keeping it a secret for a long time. Ao Lie was always so protective of me... Anyway, my dao isn't so great right now so I need to wrap this call up. You guys wanna meet up or something to talk about this in-person? I just want my Xiaotian to know some folks connected to the "old gang" now that his powers are developing. Plus DBK needs a lot of history filled in for him." (*the dragon couple share a look and smile*) Ao Yi: "I see no issue in having a few lunch meetings. It's not every day I get to talk about Great-Grandfather's journey." Long Cháo: "Xiaojiao is grounded though, right?" Ao Yi: "Without a doubt."

The familys (+occassionally Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy) start meeting up for brunch afterwards. Ao Yi and PIF are glamourous girl besties the second they meet, and their husbands bond over their difficulties in courting them. Wukong is glad to have people to hang out with outside of FFM, and to rebuild the relationship with his brother and sister-in-law.

Mei house sits the day the parents are all out for dinner. Red Son is still trying to take over the city in a misguided effort to make his parents proud, so attempted sword-theft still occurs and Mei's own dragon abilities start erupting. MK yells with joy at his bestie being a fellow "Superhero!". Red Son gets grounded.

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 12

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 11

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams

@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals

@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30

@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson

@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne

@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975

@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smoking, smut, dirty talk, phone sex, masturbation, praise/degradation, unprotected sex, crying, angst, anger, violence, blood, mentions of domestic violence, anxiety, mentions of vomit, fear, crying, mentions of drugs

Word Count: 14.4k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Part 12.1: Twist of Fate

Monday, April 10th, 1989

"Good luck on your exam, my love." Eddie says, walking you to the front door of his trailer in the morning. He seems much better than yesterday, well-rested for once since you were at his side all night. He even woke you up to some spontaneous fingering to repay you for his bath. It goes without saying, you definitely needed it.

"Thank you, Eddie. I'll be back after my test, but I promised Mom I'd be home tonight." You exchange a goodbye kiss, trying not to linger too long. You've got a decent-sized ride ahead of you, and you cannot be late. You pull away, letting Eddie open the door for you and stepping into the warm April air. You hop down the steps, feeling on top of the world as you pick up your bike and straddle the seat. "Bye, darling!" You wave at him, which he kindly returns.

"Bye, princess. I'll see you later." He smiles, already missing you. You start pedaling, making your way out of Forest Hills. You ride at a steady pace, forcing yourself not to rush. You have more than enough time to get to the college, taking a deep breath at every intersection. Your nerves send a shock through you the closer you get, but you know everything will be okay. You've studied your ass off, and you're gonna make this exam your bitch.

You lock your bicycle up to the rack in the parking lot, taking one last deep breath before heading inside with the other students. It's your Biology final today, your easiest subject. You make your way down the hall, locating your assigned exam room. Your professor stands at the desk at the head of the room, handing out scantron sheets and test booklets to everyone as they come in. You take yours, exchanging a smile with him before taking your seat. You're one of his top students, sure to knock this out of the park. You sling your bag over the back of your chair, digging out your pencil pouch to set on your desk.

"Alright, everyone. We're about to begin the exam. You have exactly two and a half hours to complete it. Please remember to fill in your answers clearly, and fully erase any mistakes. If not..." You listen keenly to his instructions, your knee bouncing in anticipation of the go-ahead to open your test booklet. "...and once you've completed the exam, you'll hand in your test book and scantron sheet and be dismissed. Good luck, and I hope you all enjoy your summer." He finishes speaking, which ensues a cacophony of students ripping the seals off their booklets. You follow suit, slowly ripping the stickers that withhold the questions you need to answer.

You put your name and the date at the top of your answer sheet, taking a second to calm your pounding heart before starting your test. You've got this, bookworm. You smile at Eddie's voice speaking softly inside your head, flipping open the first page. A quick glance over every question tells you you've got this in the bag. The anxiety melts away like snow in the spring, and you gleefully fill in each bubble with the exact right answer. Mom will be so proud of you, as will Eddie. 

Would Dad have been proud too? The unwelcome thought shoves itself to the forefront of your mind. You shake your head, pushing it away. Why would you care what that fucker thinks of you? He's dead as a doornail, end of story. You continue bubbling in the correct A's, B's and C's, steadily working your way through every page. That odd thought still sits in an awkward place inside your brain, waiting to creep its way into view again. But it won't here, not right now.

About halfway through the test time, you finish before everybody else. You gather your things, bringing your papers to the professor. "Have a great summer, Y/N." He smiles at you, you suppose he's proud too. You just nod, quietly thanking him and excusing yourself. Your body relaxes once you leave the room, it's like you can truly breathe again. You play the thought of your father over and over as you head back outside. You're meant to be going back to Eddie's, but you need a minute to think.

You fish out your cigarettes, putting one to your lips as you sit on the curb beside the bike rack. Eddie will smell the smoke on you and claim it's unfair, but you don’t give a fuck right now. You light up, taking a well-earned drag nice and deep within your lungs. The nicotine makes your skull buzz, and you just barely hold back a satisfied sigh. You take a few more drags, reexamining what popped up unexpectedly during the test. Why is the bastard even being considered in the list of people who would congratulate you on passing junior year of college? Sure, you still have four courses left to test for, but they’ll be just as much of a breeze as Bio. Still, he was never around for your other milestones. Why would his opinion matter now? You decide he's only come up because of the funeral. That must be it, nothing more. "Fuck you, George." You spit to nobody in particular, it's more just thinking out loud. You take the last puff from your cig, stomping out the spent butt and biking back home to your boyfriend.

"You're back earlier than I expected. How'd it go, bookworm?" Eddie asks as you step into his embrace. He notices you smell like cigarettes, automatically annoyed that he can't partake himself. You're not one to smoke if he doesn't, so there must be a good reason.

"It went great. I finished before everyone else, easy as pie!" You chirp, heading to the fridge to pull out a can of Coke. But that stupid thought keeps bubbling back up again, and Eddie can read it on your face.

"There's something else though, isn't there?" He prods, leaning against the kitchen counter beside you. He takes your hand, kissing the back of your palm. You nod, sighing as you try to fight back tears. You really don't wanna talk about it, which means you definitely need to.

"I was taking the test, everything was fine. I knew every answer, no problem. I was thinking about how you and Mom would be proud of me. And then he popped in there." You pound your fist against the counter, gritting your teeth as you continue. "It's totally fucking stupid, but I wondered if Dad would be proud, too." You feel a tear shed itself of its own volition, running down your cheek in a salty trail. You look at Eddie, unable to stop your lip from trembling. He sighs, this was supposed to be a happy day for you. And yet, this bastard he's never met has managed to ruin it posthumously.

"C'mere, sweetheart." He pulls you into his chest, holding you close as your arms wrap around his waist. You can't help yourself, this idea has shaken you to your very core. For years, he never crossed your mind at all, and now he's making unwanted appearances during a very crucial time in your life. You sob uncontrollably, though you're not sure why. You're not sad, not really. More like...frustrated. It's like you're not in control, and you hate that more than the man unworthy of calling himself your father. "It's okay, love." Eddie coos, trying his best to support you. He really wishes George was still alive, so he could sock that fucker right in the jaw.

You manage to settle down after a few minutes, letting him lead you to sit down. You sink into the couch, sipping your soda while Eddie orders some pizza for lunch. "You seem to be doing a lot better, baby." You say to him once he hangs up the phone, giving him a small smile.

"I'm still a little achy, but I'm almost good as new. I'll be blowing your back out in no time, princess." He chuckles, plopping down beside you with his own drink. You manage to giggle too, thanking the universe for Eddie's killer sense of humor. "I think I'll be back to normal tomorrow. I can drive you to your next exam, if you want." He kisses your cheek, eager to be your personal driver once again.

"I'd love that, baby. I've missed riding with you." You shuffle onto his lap, wanting him to hold you close. Your head lays on his chest, knees tented as your feet sit beside his thigh. You loop your arms around his neck like a koala, lacing your fingers together.

"I'm sure you have, sweetheart." He smirks, noticing your intentional phrasing. He speaks as close to your ear as he can, craning his neck awkwardly. "I'm very proud of you, by the way. I didn't get a chance to say that yet. I knew you'd kick that test's ass. My sexy little genius." His words make you light up, drawing you further away from your previous sour mood.

"Thanks, Eds. It means so much to hear that from you." You nuzzle his neck, planting a loving kiss there in gratitude. You hum pleasantly, returning to your original position. With Eddie by your side, perhaps this week won't be so terrible after all.

Later in the afternoon, when all the pizza is gone and you're nearly bursting with pepperoni and mushrooms, you say goodbye to Eddie for the day. You exchange a heated kiss, holding his stubbled face in your hands as you don't wanna go home just yet. You eventually pull away, hopping back on your bicycle for the third time today. When you get home, it's the same spiel of 'how was the test' with your mother. You don't tell her about the upsetting thought, though. It's not like you want to hide it from her, but you already talked it through with Eddie. It doesn't feel necessary to do it all over again. 

"I'm so proud of you, sugarpuff!" Mom cheers, pulling you in for a bear hug.

"Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that." You reply, happily reciprocating her affection. "I've still got four more. And easy as Bio was, it still fried my brain."

"I’m sure you're gonna do just fine. You’re incredibly smart, Y/N." She reassures you, not used to hearing you cast even the slightest doubt on your performance during testing. There must be something wrong, but given your demeanor, you don't want to talk about it just yet. You've got enough stress this week, what with the funeral and all. The last thing she wants to do is send you spiraling. She only hopes you'll talk to Eddie about whatever is bothering you. "Are you hungry, Y/N? I picked up some subs from that yummy sandwich place. I got your favorite!"

"Oh, I already ate at Eddie's. He ordered pizza. I’ll eat it later." You feel bad for spoiling her way of rewarding you. The tradition hadn't crossed your mind today, that she always gets your favorite sub during finals week.

"That's okay. I'll keep it in the fridge for you." Her face falls slightly. You never forget your special sandwich. "Are you doing okay?" She asks. Not this again.

"Yes, Mom. I'm fine. I'm just tired. I didn't mean to forget our little tradition. This week is just...a lot." It's not exactly a lie, but it's not the whole truth either. I'll tell her later, you promise yourself. You've already done the whole angry crying routine, you're over it for the day. You lean forward against the kitchen island, elbows resting on its smooth surface.

She sighs, opening the fridge to put your sub away. "I'm sorry, sugarpuff. I wish this whole funeral business wasn't happening during your exams. I don't exactly have control over what Angie wants." Resignation taints her voice, this week is probably just as hard for her.

"No, I know. I can't imagine you're having the best time, either."

"Not really, but I've got my special kiddos to help me through it. It's just a few days, it'll be over before we know it." You can tell by the way she speaks that she also counts Eddie as one of those 'kiddos'. The sentiment makes you smile brightly. You and him are so lucky that both your families love seeing you together, it's so fuckin' perfect. "How's Eddie doing?" She asks, curious to hear about your handsome loverboy.

"He's much better now. He's actually gonna drive me to my exam tomorrow." You reply happily, already counting down the minutes.

"Oh, good! And he'll be coming to dinner on Wednesday, right?" She perks up.

"Yeah, he offered before I had the chance to ask. Hopefully he’ll keep me from going apeshit." You joke, though Mom doesn't find it particularly funny.

"So do I. Oh, Angie mentioned on the phone that she wants to talk to you specifically about something. She wouldn't say what, but it seems important." She bites her lip, worried about sending you into another angry fit.

You raise an eyebrow, wondering what the hell that slut could possibly have to say to you. "Okay? I'm guessing I have no choice but to hear her out, correct?" You dull the attitude to the best of your ability, holding your eyes still so they don't roll into your skull.

"I'm not gonna force you to be alone with her, Y/N. You're a grown woman now, that's your choice. But, I think it would be helpful to everyone involved if you just do this for her, and for yourself." Mom implores you to play nice, it's the one thing she's asking of you.

"Alright, I'll do it. But not alone, Eddie can hear whatever the hell she has to say. I'm not gonna be one on one with her, not for a single second." You reply firmly, drawing a line in the sand..

She nods agreeably, your terms are fair enough in her eyes. "Thank you, sugarpuff. I really appreciate it." She gives you a half-smile, praying nothing goes wrong this week.

You spend the rest of the day in your room, reviewing flashcards for your next exam one last time. You pop out for your sandwich around dinner time, and give Eddie a call to tell him that Angie wants to talk to you. He agrees to stay by your side no matter what, you need him more than ever through all of this. You miss him so much, you're tempted to go back to the trailer. But he'll be here in the morning to take you to school, and you'll get exactly what you've been craving after your test.

You say goodnight to Eddie, letting him get some much-needed rest so he'll be fresh tomorrow. Mom's doing dishes in the kitchen, and Dustin is watching TV. They seem a little glum, though you’re guessing you don't look much better. That's just the nature of handling death, all you can do is grin and bear it until the pain fades away. "Goodnight, Dusty, Mom." You say to them, heading back to your room for the night. They parrot your words back to you in unison, too focused on their activities to look your way. You shut your bedroom door, changing into Eddie's shirt before climbing into bed.

Sleep. It's such a simple word, and an even simpler concept. You lay down, close your eyes, and BAM! Sleep. Tonight, this simple idea appears to be more elusive to you than ever before. You toss and turn in your bed, trying to get comfortable. You attempt to count sheep, solve complex math equations, and recite state capitals. Nothing is working. You look at the clock. Midnight, and there's no slumber in sight. Maybe another smoke will relax you. You hop out of bed with an aggravated sigh, digging around in your bag for your cigarettes. You light up whilst hanging outside your window like always, staring up at the moon.

You can't help wondering what Eddie's up to, picturing his handsome face. You hope he's able to sleep at least, but a feeling in your gut says he's just as restless as you are. He's probably laid up in bed or on the couch, worrying about you and what the remainder of this week holds. Maybe you should call him. You finish your cig, flicking the butt away before closing the window. You creep out of your room and down the hall. All the lights are off, and everything is deathly quiet. You tiptoe to the phone, quietly picking up the receiver. The dial tone rings in your ear as you punch in Eddie's number. You hope you won't disturb him, your gut has a habit of being wrong at times. It rings once, before he picks up. "Y/N?" He asks, not a fleck of sleep staining his voice. You were right.

"Yeah, it's me. I hope I didn't wake you, love. I just...can't sleep." You speak softly, not wanting to be too loud.

"Yeah, I can't either. I thought about calling you, actually. I didn't wanna wake the whole house." You picture how he looks right now, leaning against the wall in the same pajamas you saw him in earlier today. His hair tousled about from running his hands through it while thinking about you. Fuck, you wish you were over there with him right now.

"I miss you, Eds. I know I spent most of today with you. But it's never enough." You say, knowing he feels exactly the same. The two of you are so in sync now, it's almost scary.

"I know, baby. I always wanna be with you, too." His tone is desperate, like he's a junkie and you're his fix. Is it wrong that it's kinda turning you on?

"Ugh, can it be tomorrow already? I need you." You almost whine, which makes Eddie's breath hitch on the other end.

"Fuck, always a tease, aren't you?" He speaks darkly, and you can practically hear his eyes widening with lust. You sit in the chair beside the phone, settling into it as you might be here a while. "What are you wearing, doll?" He asks, which makes you smirk. This could be fun.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" You say lowly, toying with him. He groans in annoyance, and you roll your eyes before truly answering him. "I'm just in your Hellfire shirt and some panties. What about you?" You bite your lip, waiting for him to respond.

"Wish I could see you for myself, I bet you look gorgeous. But I'm just in my boxers, baby. You know I run hot at night." He says with a chuckle, and you can feel yourself getting wet at the image of him standing at the phone in his underwear.

"What would you do if you were here, Eds? Tell me." You say breathily, your heart beginning to race as the words leave your lips.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He teases you back, making you giggle. Eddie thinks for a moment, before speaking again. "Well, first I'd lay you down on your bed. And I'd kiss you, slipping my tongue into your mouth." You gasp at his words, picturing his actions perfectly in your mind. "Then, I'd kiss your neck, and mark you as mine. I know you like that, sweetheart." He chuckles.

"I really do. What else?" Your breathing picks up, chest rising and falling a bit harder than normal. Your hand mirrors his actions as best it can, stroking your neck as you wait for his next move.

"Then, I'd take your shirt off, and grab those beautiful tits of yours in my hands...Can you touch them for me, angel?" Eddie asks, blushing at the request. He wishes he could do it himself, but his imagination will have to do. His hand lowers from his hip to his crotch, lightly groping himself through the thin fabric of his underwear.

"Uh-huh." You do as he asks, squeezing the supple flesh in your palm over your shirt. You moan quietly at the feeling, your nipples hardening from the contact. "Fuck, Eddie." You sigh to him through the phone, and the sound makes his cock twitch.

"Does that feel good, princess?" He purrs. You just hum as an answer, wanting him to keep going. "Good. Next, I'd kiss your chest, every last inch of it. And then I'd take your nipple in my mouth, biting just the way you like." Eddie strokes his dick over his underwear, taking his time before fully touching himself.

You mimic what he's saying, reaching beneath your shirt to pinch your nipple between your fingers. "It feels so good, baby." You moan to him, forcing yourself to keep the volume down. You're so unbelievably wet, eager to feel your slick folds with your fingers and pretend that they're Eddie's instead.

"Glad to hear it, darling. Do you want more?" He asks, but he already knows what you're gonna say.

"Yes, please." You beg, your insides set ablaze by this interaction. You've never had phone sex before, and you'd like to think Eddie hasn't either. Although, it seems to come very easy to him.

"That's my good girl. Next thing I'd do is lower my hand real slow, dragging my fingers down your body until I reach your panties." Your own hand follows his path perfectly, hesitating at your waistband. "And then I'd slip inside, feeling how wet you are for me. Can you do that, Y/N? Tell me how wet you are?" Eddie's words come out harsher now, ragged. He's breathing heavily, you swear you can feel it fanning over your flesh in hot waves.

You obey his request, reaching under the fabric with two fingers. You gasp as the tips of them brush against your clit, and you can feel how absolutely drenched you are. "I'm soaked for you, baby. I want you inside me so bad." You hold your fingers still, waiting for him to tell you when you can rub yourself.

Eddie lets himself grip his cock in his hand, stroking it lazily under his boxers. "Such a dirty little slut for me. Begging me to touch you, and fuck you. Rub your clit for me, love." His eyes slip closed as you pant on the other end.

Your fingers swirl around the bundle of nerves in slow circles, and you can't help moaning a little louder this time. It's still subdued, but you want Eddie to hear how much you need him. "Are you touching yourself too, Eds?" You ask, dying to know if this is just as hot for him.

"Yeah, sweetheart. But I wish it was your mouth instead, or your perfect little pussy." He groans, picking up the pace slightly. His words spur you on, and you rub your clit faster.

"So do I. Tell me more." You whine, a familiar pressure building inside your belly.

"Why don't you take a turn, baby? I'm havin’ a hard time focusing at the moment." Eddie replies, hoping you'll play along. He would love to hear you say all the dirty things you want him to do to you.

"Okay." You take a moment to think, though it's difficult to concentrate when you keep stroking yourself. "I'd flip us over so I'm laying on top of you. And I'd kiss your chest, down to your stomach, until I reach your dick. Then I'd lick the tip, before taking all of you in my mouth."

He moans into your ear, you'll never get enough of that sound. "Fuck, that’s perfect. Keep goin’." Eddie encourages you, he can tell you're nervous about doing as well as he did. He pumps himself faster, getting close to the end.

"I'd suck your cock for a while, winding you up with my tongue. But then I'd stop, and take you in my hand. I'd rub you against my pussy, fuck一" You can't believe the things you're saying, but this moment with Eddie is so fucking hot.

"What else?" He needs to know what you're seeing inside your head.

"And then I'd sink down onto your cock, letting you fill me up perfectly like you always do." You finally slip your fingers inside your dripping cunt, moaning again at the sensation. "Oh, Eddie." You whimper, struggling to hold back the obscene noises you want to make.

"More, darling. Be a good girl for me." He almost growls, ordering you to make the two of you cum from your words. You nod, but quickly realize he can't see it.

"I'd start riding you, feel you hit my g-spot over and over. And I'd moan and call your name again and again." The pressure grows higher and higher, you're getting very close. You pump your fingers in and out, in and out. You thrust as fast as you can, a muted stream of moans and curses flowing from your lips. You can't keep this up much longer, the pleasure becoming unbearable. "I'm so close, love." You confess, wondering if he's in the same boat.

"Me too, angel. Tell me you want me." He's jerking himself rapidly in his grip, his orgasm quickly approaching.

"I want you, Eds. More than anything in the world. I want you to kiss me, touch me, fuck me until I can't walk. You always feel so good, you make me cum harder and better than anyone else. I love you so fucking much, baby." Your mouth spews filthy sentences haphazardly, your brain is in overdrive. You pump your digits harder, faster as you chase your high.

"I love you, too, babydoll. You're so fuckin' perfect, and sexy. I always wanna be near you, making you happy. I can't get enough of you, especially when you're making those beautiful noises." He matches your energy, you always rev each other up like nothing else on earth. His breath is stuttering, his release imminent. "You gonna cum for me, princess?" He asks, unable to hold himself back any longer. "Fuck, Y/N." He grunts, his load emptying into his boxers and making a mess on his hand.

Hearing Eddie lose control is what finally pulls the pin on your own high. "Oh, god!" You moan one last time, waves of ecstasy crashing into you. Your legs shake, and your walls pulse around your fingers. Arousal pools in your palm, spilling to soak through your panties. Your body washes over in a light sheen of sweat, and you gulp in air as your orgasm subsides. You fall limp against the chair, gripping the phone tightly in your hand. You both breathe heavily in each other's ears, trying to calm down. You slowly pull your fingers out of your aching hole, whimpering at how sensitive you are.

"You okay, baby?" Eddie asks, catching his breath.

"Yeah, more than okay. Have you ever done this before?" You can't help your curiosity getting the best of you. You like to think most things you and Eddie do together are things neither of you have done with anyone else. At the end of the day, you suppose it doesn't matter. But you want to know, for some strange reason, it feels important.

"Nope. Only with you, my love." He says with a smirk, which makes your heart melt.

"Well, you're very good at it." You reply, failing to repress a yawn. You're extremely relaxed now, in utter bliss.

"Aw, are you all tuckered out now, sweetheart?" He coos, remembering how late it is. "You should probably get to bed. You've got a big day ahead of you."

"I know, I will. You should, too. You are my ride, after all." You say just as lovingly.

He scoffs in offense. "Is that all I am to you? A set of wheels to cart you around?" You know he's far from serious, always a smartass.

"No." You say simply, biting your lip as you contemplate whether or not to say what you're thinking. "You've also got an amazing cock." You laugh, prompting him to as well.

"Jesus, Y/N! I'm gonna have to punish you if you keep it up." His tongue pokes into his cheek, relishing how perfectly vulgar you are.

"You better, or else I'll be extremely disappointed." You just can't help yourself, you love pushing his buttons. But you're finding it hard to keep your eyes open, so you decide to wrap this up and finally get some sleep. "I should head to bed, though, Eds. I love you, and I'll see you in the morning."

"I love you too, angel. I'll be there bright and early for ya." You both hesitate to hang up, it's always hard to say goodbye. "Sweet dreams, Y/N." Eddie breaks the silence, forcing you to let go.

"Goodnight, Eddie." And with that, you hang up at the same time. You return to your room, tossing your underwear into the hamper before slipping under the covers once more. Your head hits the pillow like a brick, and you're out like a light.

Tuesday, April 11th,1989

Today goes about the same as yesterday. Eddie drives you to school, and you kick ass at the exam. Dad doesn't make an appearance this time, which you're highly grateful for. And once you've finished, you return to the parking lot where your handsome boyfriend awaits you. You and Eddie share a smoke, and he drives you somewhere semi-secluded. It's just some random alley downtown, you're both too impatient to go all the way to the lake or the woods. The two of you scramble to the back clumsily, and proceed to fuck like your lives depend on it.

 It's hot, messy, and wild. Bites and scratches quickly litter your bodies, desperately attempting to squeeze every last drop of pleasure out of each other. The van rocks on its wheels, and you're doing nothing to conceal any noise. Part of you wants the whole damn town 一or the world, for that matter一 to hear how deep and intense your love is. You're essentially tumbling around, repeatedly switching positions and going multiple rounds with an occasional smoke break. You're sweating more than you ever thought possible, constantly panting and moaning as you keep it up. Your hair is soaked through, clinging to your face and neck. The windows have all fogged to hell, nobody can see in even if they wanted to. When you've had your fifth orgasm, you have to tap out. You collapse onto the blankets, reaching for another cigarette.

"Jesus christ. That. Was. Amazing." Eddie says between deep breaths, taking the pack from you to get a smoke of his own. He lights yours up before his own, and you simultaneously inhale very long drags as the cherry on top of a perfect afternoon.

"Fuckin' fantastic." You reply with a chuckle, completely exhausted. You gaze up at him from the floor, seeing him glisten as he leans against the side of the van. He smiles at you, blowing rings of smoke into the air. His knee is propped up, his free arm resting over it. He's so sexy without even trying, unintentionally posing like a goddamn Greek statue or something.

"What?" Eddie asks, noticing your eyes lingering as you take in his form.

"You're just gorgeous, baby. Truly a work of art." You say earnestly. His eyes widen at the sentiment, and his cheeks turn rosy.

"Um...thank you. You're not so bad yourself,sweetheart." He smiles uncontrollably, hiding his face with his hair.

You can't help giggling at his reaction, he has no idea how to take a compliment. He'll happily shower you with them, but he gets all flustered once the tables are turned. "God, you're adorable." You groan as you get up, shuffling over to sit beside him. You lay your head on his naked shoulder, and he places his head on top just so. You stay like this for a while, smoking and keeping light conversation. Your stomach growls loudly, which makes Eddie laugh.

"You hungry? I think we've worked up quite an appetite." He nuzzles against you, kissing your damp hair.

"Starving. I would kill for some diner food right now." Your mouth salivates at the thought of a burger and fries, or some waffles. Maybe both, even better.

"You got it, babe." Eddie reaches for his boxers, struggling to slip them on his drenched skin. He makes an odd face, uncomfortable with redressing when he's covered in sweat. "You think we could run to the trailer for a quick shower first?" He suggests.

"That's fine. It's probably best to hose off so we don't scare the tight-asses with the stench of sex." You poke fun, but you're not feeling particularly clean at the moment, either. Luckily, you brought some extra clothes since you plan to stay the night at Eddie's place.

The two of you redress and head over to his place to freshen up. You tiptoe down the hall so as not to wake Wayne up, he worked another extra shift yesterday and needs his rest. You keep the shower brief, resisting the urge to heat things up again as your stomach continues to growl louder and louder. Eddie's joins in on the song of hunger, which kicks him into high gear to get to the diner ASAP.

A perky waitress named Darlene escorts you to a booth in the corner of the Denny's once you walk in the door. "And what can I get y'all to drink?" She speaks with a slight twang. She looks to you and Eddie expectantly, her bright blue eyes sparkling with customer service.

"I'll have a water, and an Orange juice, please." You say to her. She asks Eddie what he wants, and he gets the same.

"Alrighty, then! I'll be back with your drinks in a bit." Darlene replies, turning on her modest heels to retrieve your beverages.

"She's bubbly." You comment to Eddie, unable to hide a smirk. He mirrors you, opening up the sticky menu the waitress put on the table.

"What were you thinking, love?" He asks, unsure himself what he wants. Everything sounds pretty damn good right about now.

"Hmm, it's hard to decide. A burger and fries sounds good, but so do the strawberry waffles." You bite your lip, unable to choose. Eddie chuckles, closing the menu back up.

"We can get both and split 'em, if you want. You're practically drooling." You gaze at him bashfully, and he reaches a hand across the table to hold yours. Your fingers interlace in reflex, an action you've done at least a hundred times. "It's alright, baby. I love how insatiable you are, remember?"

"I know. You're just so sweet, and giving. I doubt those are what you'd pick."

"How do you know? You didn't ask." He smiles kindly at you, but the words sting you a little. You know he didn't mean it as a slight, but maybe it should be.

"What were you thinking of getting?" You ask, wanting to right the selfishness you feel you've displayed.

"You won't believe me if I tell you." He says, tongue poking the inside of his cheek playfully. But you insist, giving him a serious look to get him to answer your question. "I was thinking the same, angel. We're eerily alike, ya know."

"You're right, I absolutely do not believe you. But I'll take it, if it makes me look like less of an asshole." You chuckle, just as Darlene returns with your drinks. She sets them on the table, and you notice just how low-cut her uniform is as she bends over. Your eyes snap to Eddie, who is purposely avoiding her chest. You giggle at his eyes drifting to the ceiling, seemingly finding something very interesting up there.

"Are y'all ready to order?" Darlene asks sweetly, pen and pad in hand as she stands upright. Eddie relays the order to her, and she smiles wider than before as he speaks. Once she's written it all out, she almost skips back to the kitchen to put the ticket in.

"I saw that, Eds." You comment, and his eyes go wide as he meets your gaze. "Relax, babe. I appreciate you doing your best not to stare at Darlene's tits. I'd be lying if I said you weren't missing out." You joke, making him scoff slightly.

"Pardon me for trying to be a gentleman, Y/N. But it’s interesting to know you look at other women that way." He says cheekily.

"Don't get any ideas, Munson. I'm able to appreciate the female form. Sounds like someone might be a little jealous, though." You're playing with fire, Eddie’s definitely the protective type. He's never said anything, but he notices how other guys look at you when you're out on the town with him or walking to his van in the college parking lot. Whenever it happens, his grip on your hand tightens slightly, or he'll kiss you a little harder than usual. You don't mind it, it's actually kinda hot that he finds you so desirable to others. You've never seen yourself that way, but Eddie clearly does.

"No way. The farmer's daughter is totally not your type. Now, maybe Nancy Wheeler, or even Robin would suit you..." He realizes what he's saying, probably sounding like a chauvinistic jerk by picturing you with other women. He sighs, shaking the train of thought away. "Sorry, I dunno why this matters. But I'm not jealous, because I know you only want me." He says matter-of-factly.

"You're damn right I do. I was mainly joking, you know. I just can't resist messing with you sometimes." You snort, reaching for your juice. A little later, Darlene brings out the burger and waffles.

"Here we go! Is there anythin' else I can get for ya?" She asks, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. You've got to be kidding me. Your eyes flare in sudden anger, but you resist stabbing her with your fork. He gently shrugs her off, letting her know you won't be needing anything else besides the check when you're finished. Darlene gives you an odd look, startled by your glare. She scurries away, retreating to the hostess station.

"Whore." You mutter as Eddie cuts the burger in half with the steak knife. His hand stutters at your envy, causing the blade to squeak against the plate.

"Now who's jealous?" He remarks, half-joking. He can tell you're in no mood for it. It's one thing for her to essentially flash him. But to put her hand on your man? Absolutely not.

"You're damn right I'm jealous! Who does she think she is, touching you like that? Fuckin' bitch, she knows I'm sitting right here." You grumble. You don't blame Eddie one bit, he was visibly uncomfortable with Darlene groping him like that.

"Baby, relax. She's probably trying to get a bigger tip. She won't, though. I don't like being touched by strangers." He reassures you, pushing the plate your way so you can enjoy your half of the burger while he attacks the waffles for a bit. You nod, still vibrating with anger. Luckily your appetite is still intact, and you harshly bite into the juicy beef patty. You moan at the greasy goodness as it touches your tastebuds, eyes closing as you calm yourself further. You definitely needed this. "Better?" Eddie asks, mouth half-full of sweet, strawberry delight.

"Much." You answer flatly, focusing on putting food in your stomach. You quickly polish off the burger, and a few fries. You wipe your face, before swapping plates to enjoy some of the waffles. Eddie watches you carefully, observing as the fattening food gradually brings your anger levels down. You really are a loose cannon sometimes. He can be, too, if the circumstances are right. But lately you've been quick to fly off the handle, ready to start swinging instead of talking yourself down. You take one last bite of waffle, sliding the plate back over to let Eddie finish the rest. You're very full, and much happier than you were when Darlene last left the table. "Fuck, that was good." You let out a satisfied sigh, watching the little slut come by with the check. She sets it down without a word, quickly walking away while avoiding eye contact with either of you. That's right, keep walking, bitch. You smirk to yourself, glad you’ve scared her away.

Eddie finishes up, leaving cash on the table to pay the bill and leading you back out to the van. "Are you alright, love? You had me worried in there." He asks, stopping off to the side of the entrance to have a smoke. He offers you one, which you happily take.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I guess I'm a little more possessive than I thought." You inhale deeply, letting the smoke fill your lungs completely. Eddie wraps his arm around you, holding you closer to him.

"I know what the waitress did was wrong, sweetheart. But you got really angry, really fast in there. Kinda freaked me out." He speaks honestly, hoping it's not gonna hurt your feelings.

You sigh, taking a moment to absorb what he's saying. He's right, you've been a ticking time bomb lately. It's so annoying, really. You don't wanna be like this, but everything is feeling a thousand times stronger than it actually is these last few days. "I'm sorry. It's like I'm dialed up to eleven lately. The highs are ridiculously high, and the lows are painfully low. I feel like I'm going crazy." You chuckle wryly, continuing to smoke in his comforting hold.

"You're not crazy, love. I just wanted to know what's goin' on with you. This week in particular isn't proving to be as easy as we were hoping. But I'm gonna be with you through all of it. I promise." He turns you to face him, looking deep into your eyes. His arm lowers to your waist to bring your chest flush to his, and he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. You melt into it, the ash on your cigarette growing rather long as you neglect it.

"MUNSON!" You hear an angry voice shout from across the parking lot. You break away from the kiss, looking to find Jason Carver stomping over to you. Shit, this can't be good. You think back to your dream, quickly checking to see if Jason has a gun in his hands. But no, he's just got his fists balled at his sides. He's wearing a tacky business suit, and his face burns bright red in contrast to his slicked blonde hair. "Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?" He shouts again, stopping about six feet away from you.

"I dunno what you're talking about, dude. I'm just here havin' lunch with my beautiful girlfriend." Eddie winks at you, not at all concerned.

"Bullshit! You know exactly what I'm talking about! Chrissy told me everything, about how you were gonna take her away from me!" He gets closer to Eddie, almost spitting in his face as he speaks angrily. His eyes flick to you. "And you. You're the one who put this silly idea in her head to leave in the first place! You should know to stay in your lane, metalmouth!" He screams at you, making you flinch. You haven't heard that awful nickname in years. You wish you could say it doesn't hurt as bad as it did back in the day.

"Leave her alone, jerkoff. It's not our fault you beat your wife, like the lowlife you are." Eddie retorts, which earns him a firm punch in the nose from Jason. He shouts in pain, his nostrils gushing blood.

"Oh my god!" You scream, trying to inspect his injury. He brushes you off, sniffing harshly before standing his ground. Blood drips onto his shirt, but he's more than willing to kick Jason's ass if he needs to.

"Still a little bitch, I see. Lemme guess, you beat the truth out of Chrissy, right? She was gonna leave your sorry ass, and take your son somewhere far away. Correct?" You wish Eddie would shut up for his own sake, but he just won't.

"Eddie, please. Let's just go, I don't want you to get hurt." You try to pull him away, but Jason interjects.

"Stay outta this, Y/N! This is between me and him." Jason pokes Eddie's chest harshly, pushing him further.

"Get your fuckin' hand off of me, Carver." Eddie warns, his eyes turning angry with a dark intensity.

"What are you gonna do about it, Munson?" Jason taunts, shoving Eddie backwards into the wall of the restaurant.

"God, you sound like we're still in high school. Peaked early, did you? How predictable." Eddie continues to taunt. Why the hell is Eddie egging him on like this? He's gonna get hurt, or worse.

"Fuck you!" Jason screams, landing another punch. It knocks Eddie's face to the side, getting him right in the left eye. "At least I have a job!" Another punch, this time to the jaw which makes him spit out blood. "And a house!" Another blow, to his stomach this time. "And a family!" A second punch to the jaw. "And you have nothing!" Eddie grunts in pain with every hit, letting himself get beaten to a pulp. He refuses to fight back, and you can't figure out why. You keep screaming at Jason to stop, but he refuses. You don't know what to do. You can't take Jason out, there's no convenient statues lying around to knock him in the head with. A few other patrons have stepped outside to see what the ruckus is about, along with a couple waitresses. You look at them, tears streaming down your face.

"Call the police!" You beg, and a waitress runs back inside to get to the phone. "Jason, stop it! It was Chrissy's choice to leave! We just wanted to help her." You try to reason with him, sobbing as he continues to hurt Eddie.

"You don't know what you're talking about! Chrissy is mine, and she's not going anywhere." You hear the vile smugness in his voice. He likes hurting her. He thinks he owns her.

"Chrissy is NOT your property!" You scream. You're once again overcome with rage, pushing yourself between Jason and Eddie. You kick Jason in the crotch as hard as you can, making him crumble to the ground. "Come on, Eds. Get back inside while we wait for the cops. Please." Your voice trembles, you cannot believe you just did that. But you can't bear to hear Jason speak like that about Chrissy and mercilessly kick Eddie's ass. You both turn to go back in, when Jason grabs you by the back of your shirt. He tugs you out of Eddie's grip, slamming you down onto the asphalt with a hard smack.

"You're not going anywhere, bitch! You messed with the wrong man, and now you're gonna fucking pay!" He stands over you, your head throbbing painfully from the impact. You feel sick, you might have a concussion. You can't say anything, the pain is too much. "Just like old times, huh? The geek and the freak. But you can bet your ass I won't lose this time." He smirks sickeningly, and you're annoyed that he doesn't have a scratch on him. Suddenly, Eddie tackles Jason to the ground.

"Don't fucking touch her!" Eddie yells, and you watch him pin Jason down, before absolutely wailing on him. He lands punch after punch, grunting as he swings his fists down onto Jason's face as hard as he can. You can't stand up, everything is spinning. It looks like you're watching three Eddies on top of three Jasons. "You bastard! You don't hurt her! You piece of shit! You're a fucking bully, and that's all you'll ever be!"

The world is slowly fading to black, just as you hear the police sirens approaching the diner. You pass out, the unfocused image of Eddie defending your honor being the last thing you see.

Part 12.2: Mad World

You slowly regain consciousness, hearing the beep of a heart rate monitor as your eyes flutter open. You groan at the harsh lights in your eyes, looking side to side to see where the hell you are. "Oh my god, sugarpuff!" You hear Mom's voice, she's sitting in a chair beside your hospital bed. She rushes to your side, taking hold of your hand.

"What the hell happened?" You ask, trying to remember how you got here. You think back, gluing the shattered pieces of what happened today back together. You recall the exam, lots of sex, greasy food, and一 "Where's Eddie?" You ask in a panic, picturing Jason beating the shit out of him before the tables turned.

"Shh, Y/N. He's okay. Well, he's got a broken nose and some cuts and bruises. He's down at the police station for questioning. What the hell were you two doing getting in a fight with that awful Carver boy?" She interrogates, needing you to clear things up. You try to sit up, but you're feeling extremely woozy. Mom notices you gagging, reaching for the bucket the nurse left in your room for you to puke into. There goes lunch, and it certainly doesn't taste as good coming back up. You keep the bucket on your lap in case you need it again. There's a horrible, radiating pain in the back of your head. You're about to reach behind and touch it, when Mom swats your hand. "Don't touch the stitches! You'll get them infected!" She's definitely pissed at you, and scared. You've never been one to get in trouble like this, you've always been a good egg.

"Stitches?" You ask dumbly, realizing you probably split your head open when Jason pulled you down. You inhale sharply, realizing just how serious the situation is. "Okay, um. I know this looks bad, but it's not what it seems." You say as you look at her angry face. You've never seen her so upset at you before. You can probably kiss that six-month promise goodbye.

"Then please, tell me what the hell is going on. And don't leave anything out!" She barks, and you let her know about everything. Jason abusing Chrissy, you and Eddie trying to help her leave, Jason confronting you. Her face softens as you clear the cloud of confusion for her, the anger slowly dissipating with it. "Why didn't you come to me, Y/N? I could've helped you go to the police."

"There was no guarantee going to the cops would've done anything, Mom. We were waiting for Chrissy to have a plan before getting her out of there. If there was even a chance of Jason knowing what she was up to, it would've made things worse." But you suppose they are either way now. "Is Jason at the station, too?" You ask, wondering if he’s managed to weasel his way out of responsibility for his end of the fight.

"Yes. The police need to speak to you as well. Obviously, they've had to wait for you to be conscious again, but they said to bring you once the doctor clears you." Mom answers, regaining some of her terseness.

“Shit, Mom! Get them in here. I need to go right now. I have to tell them everything, and help Eddie get out." You speak in a mania, trying to rip out your IV and locate your clothes. You remove the heart rate monitor, and it starts acting as if you've died, making obnoxious noises.

"Y/N, slow down! You have to wait for the doctor!" Mom tries to stop you, keep you from hurting yourself. But you're too high on adrenaline to let anyone get in your way. You need to be with Eddie, now.

"Mom, please! I have to tell them it's not Eddie's fault! I don't want him to be punished for something he didn't even start." You manage to stand up, pushing past her to dig around in the plastic bag containing your personal effects. You don't even care about the curtains being open, you're getting dressed come hell or high water.

The doctors come rushing in, attempting to force you back into bed. But you scream bloody murder, telling them you need to leave right now. You back yourself into a corner, flailing your limbs when they attempt to get close to you. One of them calms you enough to ask you the typical concussion questions. Who is the president? What year is it? What is your address? You answer every single one without hesitation, continuing to strip off your hospital gown and put your clothes back on in their full view. Embarrassment and modesty have flown out the window, the need to help your boyfriend has overridden everything else. "Can I fucking go now!?" You shout once you've fully dressed, and the doctors begrudgingly let Mom take you out of here. They give you some pain meds, and tell you to take it easy as you storm out the door barefoot.

"Y/N, slow down! You can't get there on foot!" Mom yells, calling to Dustin who was on his way back from the vending machines. He runs over, wondering what's going on. He sees you booking it for the car, cursing under his breath. He can't see your face, but he already knows you're determined to go to the damn police station right this second. Nothing and no one will stop you. You reach the car, clutching your bag which holds your purse and shoes and the little paper bag the doctor gave you. You yank on the door, it doesn't budge. Of course, it's locked at the worst possible time.

"Hurry up! I need to clear everything up for these assholes!" You can't stop yelling, it's your default volume at this point. Mom hurries to the driver's side, fumbling with the keys to unlock the car. The three of you hop in, seatbelts and all. You put your shoes on while Mom drives, luckily the station isn't far from here. Your knee bobs up and down, anxiously waiting for the building to come into view. Before Mom can stop the car fully in a parking space, you open your door and run inside to find Eddie.

"Y/N!" They both call after you, running to catch up once the car is parked. You go to the front desk, finding a rather disinterested secretary sitting behind it.

"I'm here to give a statement about the fight at the Denny's." You say simply, hoping she knows what you're talking about. She looks you over suspiciously through her thick glasses, noticing the tape from the IV still sticking to your arm.

"Uh...yes, just let me check with Chief Powell." She says, standing up to leave you at reception. You pound your hand on the desk, needing her to listen.

"Please, it's urgent! My boyfriend is in there!" You beg, it's a wonder you haven't turned into a puddle of tears yet. She nods when she figures out who you're referring to and leads you down the hall. You turn the corner, finding Eddie cuffed to a chair. "Oh my god, Eddie!" He looks up at you, and you see the awful state he's in. His lip is busted, and there's a cast on his nose. His left eye is swollen shut, an uneasy shade of purple. And there's thick gauze wrapped around his knuckles. "Shit, Eds. You look terrible." You coo at him, kneeling at his side.

"You should see the other guy." He chuckles, before remembering where he last saw you. "What the fuck are you doing here? You're supposed to be at the hospital!" He says, concern tainting his voice. But you just shake your head rapidly. It makes you nauseous again, which isn't helping. You choke the bile back down, speaking shakily.

"I couldn't stay there. I'm all stitched up, I'm fine. I had to come and be here for you. Did they talk to you already?" You want to take his hands in yours, but you don't want to hurt him. They're stuck together at his side, the link of the cuffs trapped under the armrest so he won't run off.

"Yeah, Jason, too. And some others from the restaurant. They're bringing Chrissy in as well. But so far, it's not looking great for me. The pigs tackled my ass when they got there, assuming I started it. Hopefully some of the other people there didn't fuck me over. And having you talk to them should help. Just一 don't tell them anything about the drugs. Please." He warns, and you nod in agreement. You're sure Chrissy will know to leave that little detail out as well. It would only get her and Eddie into more trouble.

"Y/N Henderson? Come with us, please." You hear Chief Powell speak behind you, and you turn to look at him. His expression tells you he's none too pleased with having to handle a fucking fight taking place in a Denny's parking lot on a Tuesday afternoon. You stand, quickly walking into the interrogation room to answer their questions. You share one last look with Eddie, trying your best to give him a smile. Though it probably comes out more like a grimace. You take a seat, and Powell and another officer sit across from you. "Alright, let's get started." Powell says, clasping his hands together on the table. "So, tell us in your own words what happened this afternoon."

You swallow hard, cops always make you nervous. "Well, um, me and Eddie had gone to the Denny's to have lunch. When we were leaving, we had a smoke in the parking lot. That's when Jason showed up." You stop to breathe, Powell's eyes staying on you. You continue. "He was angry at us, Eddie in particular."

"And why was that?" The Chief interjects.

"Because we had seen Chrissy a few weeks ago in passing, I don't remember where. But she had bruises on her arms, and when we talked to her about Jason and their marriage, it seemed like she was being abused." You answer apprehensively.

"By Jason?" He says to keep the flow of questioning going.

You nod. "Yes. She did get angry and deny it. But a few days later, she found my number in the phone book. She asked us to help her once she had a plan of escape."

"And up until now, Jason had no idea about this?" He asks, gesturing with his hands as he speaks.

"No." You shake your head. "She even said not to call the house in case he picked up. She knew he'd do something really bad if he found out."

"Did she say what that would be?"

"I dunno, hurt her again? Kill her, maybe? Does it really matter?" You don't mean to catch an attitude, but you wish these officers were taking this a little more seriously. It's almost like they're trying to justify Jason coming after Eddie.

"We just want to get the facts straight." Powell says with a warning tone. You nod like a scolded child, trying not to blush in embarrassment. "Now, what happened after Jason showed up?"

"He was yelling, saying we were taking Chrissy away from him. Eddie wasn't taking his shit seriously, and Jason hit him. First in the nose, then the jaw, and stomach. Jason landed a few more punches, I think. I dunno, it all happened so fast." You pause again, gauging their reaction. But their faces don't show much emotion at all. "And then Jason was talking like he owned Chrissy, and that made me angry. And I wanted him to stop hurting Eddie. So I got between them, and kicked Jason in the balls." The other officer in the room, whose name tag reads 'Callahan', bursts out laughing. You suppose it's amusing to him that a little thing like yourself would be so bold to kick a large man in the nuts. Powell shoots him a disapproving look, which stills the laughter immediately. Callahan clears his throat, regaining focus.

"And then what happened?" Powell asks, easing you along to the end of the story.

"Me and Eddie tried to go back inside, I'd had one of the waitresses call you guys before I did what I did. But Jason grabbed me by my shirt, and slammed me to the ground. He split my head open, by the way. I've got stitches and everything." You turn your head to let them see, which makes them audibly wince. You can't imagine it looks pretty, and you sense small chunks of hair are missing. Hopefully a trip to the salon to even it out will help.

"And then?"

"And then Eddie tackled him, and started punching him over and over. He got so angry, and I couldn't move because I got a concussion. The world was spinning, and I blacked out." You finish painting your version of the picture for them, but at the end of it you can't tell if they’ve actually listened. "I promise, this isn't Eddie's fault. He was just trying to protect me. He didn't throw a single hit until after I got hurt."

"Do you want to press charges against Mr. Carver?" Powell asks, trying his best to appear stoic yet sympathetic. He truly feels for you. But given Jason's affluent status in the community, he worries Eddie might pay a hefty cost.

"Um, I dunno. Is he gonna get in trouble for abusing Chrissy?" You ask, watching their faces closely to see any indication of such a thing coming to fruition.

"Well, we can't say much about that. We haven't even talked to her yet. But if she does corroborate what you've said, then, yes, he will be arrested and charged for assault and domestic abuse. Your boyfriend, on the other hand..." The Chief's words stop, he can't help wanting to let Eddie go when he sees the desperate look on your face. You don't want Eddie to be in trouble, it's not even his fault. He was just defending you, that shouldn't be a crime. "Mr. Carver wants to press charges against him." You scoff at the thought. Of course he does. He puts a hand up to reassure you, giving a small smile. "However, given the fact that Mr. Carver started the fight, I doubt it'll hold up in court or even make it to trial."

You nod, taking this all in. You hope Chrissy comes through for you. You imagine she's not looking too pretty herself at the moment. "Okay. Is there anything else you need from me? Can me and Eddie go home now?" You ask, pleading with your eyes to appeal to Powell's softer side.

"You're free to go, for now. I suggest the two of you stay outta trouble if you know what's good for you. Munson is very lucky he has you to plead his case." Powell says with a small smile. He leads the way back to Eddie, and lets him free of the handcuffs.

"Thanks. I typically only use those in the bedroom." Eddie jokes while rubbing his bruised wrists. The Chief doesn't find it amusing, scoffing before he leaves the two of you alone.

"Thank fuck." You sigh in relief, and Eddie quickly captures you in a suffocating hug. You squeeze him just as hard, not wanting to let go. Those tears you've been saving up finally come out to play. You sob long and hard against his chest, soaking through his bloodied shirt. This whole week has just been blow after blow, literally. You swear you can't take much more of this, or you're gonna snap. Eddie holds you close, rocking you back and forth to try and calm you down.

"Let's go home, okay?" He whispers, and you nod as you continue to let everything out on him. He leads the way, despite his impaired vision. Wayne pulls into the parking lot just as you step outside, rushing to get out of his truck.

"Lord, almighty! What the fuck have you got yourself into, Edward?" He asks, just as bemused as everyone else has been today. "And fuckin' A, you look like you got your ass handed to ya." His eyes flick to you, and he stops himself from blowing up when he sees just how hard you're crying. He sighs, wiping his calloused hands down his face. His tone relaxes, saving the questions and lecture for later. "Jesus christ. Just get in the truck, dipshit. You too, Y/N."

"I gotta let Mom know where I'm going." You say flatly, not really sure what the plan is. You have your next test tomorrow, and the pre-funeral dinner. Eddie's van is still at the diner, and neither of you can drive it anywhere. The two men nod, letting you have a moment with Mom and Dustin.

"You okay, sugarpuff?" Mom asks, and you can't manage to do much besides shake your head. You wish none of this had happened, everything's all fucked up. You keep the tears at bay for now, wanting to calm down. Your nerves are absolutely frayed, sending random signals of panic to your brain.

"Are you gonna go with Eddie?" Dustin asks, his worried expression making your heart sink.

"Yeah. We're gonna figure out our plan for tomorrow. His van is stuck at the restaurant, and clearly we aren't in any condition to drive." You chuckle dryly, though you don't find your words funny whatsoever.

"Well, if you two come home tonight, I can drive you to your test tomorrow. And then I can bring you back and we'll all pile in the car for dinner later on. Sound good?" Mom suggests, and you thank her for the simple solution.

"That'll be perfect, Mom. I don't wanna be away from him right now, but Wayne's schedule doesn't help me get to school on time. We'll be over later, just put my stuff in my room for now." You reply, giving them both a big hug before getting into Wayne's truck with Eddie sandwiching you in the middle.

You tell Wayne the plan as he drives you all back to the trailer, and he's more than happy to drive you to your house on his way to work tonight. Eddie takes hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly despite his injuries. You put your head on his shoulder, mimicking your position from earlier today. You can't help crying again, you feel so fucking tired as the adrenaline that’s shocked your system wears off completely. Eddie whispers sweet nothings in your ear, doing everything he can to console you.

The three of you walk through the door, and Wayne asks you both to sit down and explain to him why in the hell the cops called him in the middle of his sleep. You lay out the situation for the third time today, utterly sick of repeating the same fucking words. But just like the other two audiences you've had, Wayne is easily sympathetic as opposed to angry. He lets you and Eddie retreat to his room, and you're helping pack some clothes for him for the next few days. "I didn't ask before, but what were you trying to do, Eds?" You ask as you pull out some shirts and boxers from his dresser and put them into a duffle bag.

"Well, I was trying to let Jason throw all the punches so he would be the one in the handcuffs. I had no intention of hitting him at all, until he hurt you. All I could see was red after that." He explains, sitting on the edge of his bed as you gather his things.

"Well, it was really stupid. Sweet, but stupid." You reply, trying to ignore the pounding in your head.

"How are your stitches?" He asks, and you show your back to him so he can get a good look. "Jesus, the asshole really did a number on you." His tone is heartbroken, he hates that you ended up getting hurt in all this.

"I'm guessing it's a good thing I can't see them, huh? Everyone keeps making weird sounds or comments about it. I'll need a haircut when they heal up." You don't mean to sound so annoyed, but you're exhausted and in pain. This day started out so sweet, and ended up a bloodbath. "How are you feeling? Mom said you've got a broken nose."

"Well, my face hurts a lot, and my hands. And I gotta keep this cast on my nose for a week, so that's fun." Eddie's just as done with today as you are, all he wants is to sleep with you in his arms. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I know Jason started it, but now I've gotten us tangled up in all this mess." His voice breaks, and you realize he's the one crying now. You stop packing, sitting beside him on the edge of the mattress.

"Baby, it's okay. You were just looking out for me. And technically I got us into this when I convinced Chrissy to try to leave him." You cup his cheek, wiping the tears away from his good eye.

Eddie's body shudders as he's falling to pieces before you. "But you got hurt, and it's all my fault!" He insists, you've never seen him like this before. He's so upset with himself, it's his job to look out for you. To protect you. And he failed. He's becoming inconsolable, wailing and sobbing like a lost child. You're sure he'd be holding his face in his hands if it wasn't so messed up.

You have to calm him down, he'll make himself sick if he keeps going like this. "It's not your fault, love. Let's lay down, okay?" You speak softly to him, taking his wrists to lead him further onto the bed. He lets you maneuver him, laying his head on the pillows as he continues to sob. You lie down behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. Usually this goes the other way around, but Eddie needs you to hold him. He's always taken care of you when you're sad or ill, and it's your turn now. Your hands rest on his chest, stroking him over his shirt to soothe him. Your leg lays over his, trying to cover him with your warmth. "It's okay, Eds. Everything's gonna be okay." You coo in his ear, nuzzling his neck with your chin.

The two of you lay like this for what feels like hours. You repeat your words over and over, your hands continuously caressing his trembling body. Eddie stopped sobbing a while ago, but he's shaking uncontrollably. He's far from cold, he's full of fear and anxiety now. What kind of man is he if he can't even keep you safe from an asshole like Jason? What if whatever Chrissy has to say isn't enough? And Jason is free to come find you again and do something much worse? That thought scares the living hell out of him. "I'm sorry." He whispers in a hoarse voice, his throat hurts from crying so much.

"You don't have to apologize. I promise, it's not your fault. Just relax, darling. We've both had a long day." Your heart aches for him, you wish he wouldn't blame himself.

Wayne knocks on the door. "Hey kiddos, be ready in five." You plant a gentle kiss on the back of Eddie's neck before getting out of bed to finish getting his things ready. Eddie rolls over to look at you, his lip still quivering.

"Do you still love me, Y/N?" He asks, which takes you aback. Why would he ask such a thing?

"Of course I do! You really think I'm gonna stop loving you over something like this?" You're genuinely curious where his head's at, this whole ordeal has rocked him to his core.

"I dunno. Maybe you should." His gaze shifts away from yours, and you take a moment to figure out how to respond. You zip up his bag, kneeling at the side of the bed to force him to meet your eyes.

"Eddie. I love you more than anything in the world, okay? I'm not going anywhere, except with you to my house. I've told you before, there's nothing you could do to scare me away, and I mean that with all my heart. C'mon, Wayne's waiting." You lean forward to kiss his forehead, the rest of his face is inaccessible at the moment.

"Okay." He sounds unconvinced, but you don't have the energy to go back and forth on this with him. You just wanna go home, eat some food and take your meds, and then pass out in bed with Eddie. You've got too big of a day ahead of you tomorrow, and this week can't possibly get any worse. You help him stand up, his feet scuffing against the floor as you pull him along. He slings his bag over his shoulder, letting you drag him outside to the truck.

The ride to your house is silent, but there's unspoken tension hanging in the air. It could be Wayne's disappointment, or Eddie's melancholy. You can't quite place it, though it's unsettling to say the least. To be honest, you don't care to find out what it is. You can barely keep your eyes open at this point, your metaphorical tank is reading at a big, blinking 'E'. You'll have to puzzle it all out tomorrow. "Here ya go, kiddos. Please, don't get into any more trouble?" Wayne implores, taking hold of your hand while giving you a serious look. He's asking you to keep an eye on Eddie, make sure he doesn't do anything else stupid. You nod, and he lets you two go inside.

"Hey, sugarpuff! I left your stuff in your room like you asked." Mom announces as you walk through the door. She's making chicken alfredo for dinner, stirring her homemade sauce at the stove top.

"Thanks, Mom. We'll be in there until dinner's ready." You give her a weak smile as you pass by, holding Eddie's hand as you mindlessly pull him down the hall. He hasn't said another word, not even acknowledging Mom or Dustin when he walked inside with you. He's taking today really hard, and you don't know how to snap him out of it. You don't want him to pretend to be okay if he's not, but you feel like he's being too hard on himself. You shut your bedroom door, gently moving Eddie to sit down on your bed.

You kneel before him, slipping off his shoes. "What are you doing?" He asks, staring down at you with no clear expression on his face. It's more like he's looking through you, like you're not really here. His voice is monotone, which you've never heard out of him before.

"I'm helping you get into something more comfortable, love. I doubt you want to stay in bloody clothes all night." You remove his socks, putting them in your hamper. You do the same with his shirt, carefully positioning his arms to pull it over his head.

"Okay." He replies, allowing you to manipulate his body like a mannequin. You pull off his jeans, which are covered in dirt from the parking lot. You retrieve some cozy pajamas from his bag, dressing him back up. When you're finished, you sit beside him.

"There. All better." You try to smile, lighten the mood. But he stays the same, almost catatonic. "Eddie?" You ask, wanting him to look at you. He turns his head in your direction.

"Yes?" He says flatly, which is really freaking you out now.

"Is there anything I can do, love?" You desperately search for something, anything to indicate emotion in him.

"No." You know it shouldn't, but that singular word feels like a slap in the face.

"Do you want to be here?" You put a hand on his knee, and this question appears to chip through the layer of ice he's put up.

"Yes." His own hand lays over yours. Finally, a sign of life.

"Okay. Can you stop shutting me out, then?" You ask, coming off a little more annoyed than you mean to. But he nods, forcing himself to soften up a little.

"Sorry, I'm not meaning to. I'm just having a hard time today." His voice catches, he really doesn't want to cry anymore.

"I know, darling. That's what I'm here for. We work through things together, remember?" You squeeze his leg gently, and he nods again.

"Yeah, I do." Eddie gives his best attempt at a smile, pulling you into him so he can wrap his arms over you. "I love you, Y/N." He says, choking back more tears.

"I love you too, Eddie." You let him cling to you for as long as he wants, settling into his warm embrace. You know he needs you, more than ever right now. He needs to know you still want him, still find him worthy of your love. And you have every intention of leaving no room for confusion.

A little later, Eddie lets you go so you can change out of your grungy clothes. You slip into some lounging shorts and a tank top, when you realize the necklace he gave you isn't around your neck. They must have taken it off at the hospital. You dig around in your belongings, finding the necklace at the bottom of the plastic bag. The chain is broken, and there's some blood on it. But the engraved pick is still intact without a scratch. Eddie noticed you weren't wearing it hours ago, thinking you did it on purpose. But seeing you excavating your jewelry box to find a new chain tells him you just got caught up in the moment. Your only concern after waking up was getting to him, making sure he was okay. "Good to know you didn't actually take it off." Eddie pipes up, startling you after being quiet for so long.

"Yeah. I had no intention of doing so. Jason must have snapped the chain when he pulled me down. I'm glad whoever took me to the hospital didn't leave it behind, that would've broken my heart." You find the perfect replacement, a simple gold chain from an old charm necklace set you used to wear years ago. The charms are long gone, they were childish things like unicorns and butterflies. But the chain was sturdy, pretty. You kept it in case you found a new pendant worthy of it. And what better one than the guitar pick labeling you as 'Eddie's girl'? You slip the pendant on, and clasp the chain around your neck. "There, good as new." You admire it in the mirror for a moment, catching Eddie's gaze in the reflection. "I'm always gonna be your girl, Eds." You say with a smile, his own lips twitching upwards briefly.

"And I'll always be your guy, sweetheart." He holds out a bandaged hand, beckoning you to him. You walk over to him, taking a sideways seat on his lap. His arm wraps around your waist, keeping you in his grasp. "God, I wish I could kiss you right now." He says, biting the part of his lip that isn't split open.

"Me too, love. Doesn't mean I can't kiss you,though." You say slyly, leaning your head down to place your mouth on his throat. He hums softly, he loves it when you kiss his neck. Or any part of him, really. Your lips are so plush, and you put just the right amount of pressure to make him putty in your hands. You keep the contact brief, you've both had enough excitement for one day.

"Remind me to pay you back double for every time you do that. Once I'm able to, of course." Eddie smiles, slowly slinking out of the pit of despair he’s been occupying.

"You got it, baby." You give him another kiss, eager to rack up a stockpile of his affection. He chuckles, realizing his mistake. You're gonna be all over him now, giving him sexy little pecks every chance you get. He's not complaining, but it's gonna make him go insane.

"Y/N? Dinner's ready, honey." Mom says on the other side of your door.

"Okay, Mom. We'll be right there!" You call to her, and you hear her footsteps receding back to the kitchen. "C'mon, bruiser." You say with a laugh, taking Eddie's wrists to lead him to the dining room. Dinner is surprisingly light, Dustin asks Eddie lots of questions about the fight, wanting to know just how badly he beat Jason's sorry ass. Eddie answers them, even after Mom tries to get your brother to cut it out. You ask Dustin about his own finals to change the subject. You know Eddie's not really in a mood to act like he's some badass for today's events.

Dustin fills you in, eyes sparkling as he fantasizes about finally walking that graduation stage next week. You're so proud of him, he's even smarter than you are. He got early admission to multiple Ivy Leagues, offering scholarships left and right to draw the little genius into various science programs. You swear it was just yesterday that he joined Hawkins Middle A.V. Club, running around with his squad of friends on make-believe adventures. Their little band of misfits has only expanded these last few years, and you're happy he's been able to form strong bonds with so many people. It's one of many things you envy about Dustin, friendship comes so easily to him.

You help Mom clear the table after dinner, and Dustin sits with Eddie on the couch to discuss the next D&D campaign. There isn't a set date for said game just yet, but you're very excited about it. You listen to their conversation as you dry each dish Mom hands to you after she washes them. Things seem to be at least slightly back to normal, when the phone rings. It startles everyone, and your eyes lock onto Eddie's. You go over to pick it up, wondering who's on the other end. It could be the police, or Angie, or一

"Y/N?" It's Chrissy.

"Hey, Chrissy." You say, loud enough for everyone to hear. The room goes silent. Mom shuts off the faucet, and Dustin clicks the remote to the TV.

"Are you and Eddie alright? I just got back from the station. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't want to tell him anything, but he found out about my plan to go to my aunt's..." She pauses for a moment, her breath shuddering. You can tell she's been crying. "...he一 He threatened to hurt JJ." Your jaw drops. That's a new low, even for Jason.

"Chrissy, don't apologize. We're okay, well, mostly. We wanted to help, and we knew something like this could happen. Are you alright?" You hope Jason wasn't too rough with her, or the baby.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine. Jason's been arrested, waiting for charges. And my aunt is coming tomorrow to help me pack up what we need. I'll be living with her until I can get a job and a place of my own." Her tone brightens, she sounds so relieved.

"That's great! I'm glad you're finally getting out, going somewhere safe. And hey, when all this shit blows over we should hang out." You smile, glad at least one good thing has come out of this dumpster fire.

"I'd love that! Well, I'll let you go for now. I'm sure you two have been through a lot today. And thank you for helping me. I'll never be able to repay you for that." You hear her getting a little teary again, which makes your heart swell.

"It's no problem at all. Just doing what's right. Goodnight, Chrissy. We'll see you around."

"Goodnight." She hangs up, and you set the phone back in its cradle.

"Is she alright?" Mom asks, turning to wash up the last couple dishes.

"Yeah. Jason's awaiting charges, and Chrissy is moving in with her aunt. So, our injuries aren't for nothing." You joke, drawing nervous giggles from everyone. "I dunno about you guys, but I'm fuckin' exhausted. You wanna go to bed, Eds?" You gaze at him sleepily, reaching your hand out..

"Sure thing, baby. Night, Dustin, Ms. Henderson." He stands up to join you, just as tired as you are

"Night, guys." Dustin says, turning the TV back on for a while.

"Goodnight, kiddos. Sleep well, we've got a big day tomorrow." Mom says, hoping you two are able to rest properly when you're all battered and bruised. You travel back down the hall, stopping at the bathroom.

"I'm gonna take my pain meds real quick before bed, love. You wanna warm up the bed for me?" You poke his chest playfully.

"Yes, ma'am!" He salutes you, making you laugh.

"Ew, don't ever call me that again." You scrunch your nose, that term makes you feel old. He smirks at you, before turning away to go lie down. You open the bottle of pills at the sink, taking the recommended dose with a handful of water from the faucet. You go to your room, finding Eddie already passed out on his back.

He's snoring lightly, the poor guy must have conked out as soon as he hit the pillow. You flick off the light, and set your alarm for the morning. You quietly climb in beside your love, laying your head on his chest. His arms bring you closer out of instinct, but you can tell he's still asleep. "Goodnight, baby. I love you so much." You whisper, shifting slightly to get comfortable. He probably can't hear you, but you never go a single night without saying you love him. You slowly drift off, the comforting beat of his heart lulling you to sleep.

To be continued...

[barbie-nightmare-house]

I saw Hozier for the 5th time and I am in excruciating pain but god damn that white boy does a hell of a job

[corpsentry]

ass in the air on my hands and knees searching for link/allen (romantic platonic idgaf in this economy) fanwork i scoured the ao3 tag dry and 8 years of tumblr posts and now i am Two fists deep in pixiv, dodging projectiles of pathetic ai porn, desperately looking for crumbs. i’ve done it again folks i found a more or less dead fandom and got stuck on the niche pairing of the main character and the guy who debuted with a bowl cut and now there is nothing to be done but CRY LOUDLY and then (some time later) EQUIP PEN

[sudokuplayer]

i'm so angry and heartbroken and i think this is all i will ever be

[pzos-amiserableidiot]

was watching tiktok and a video had the song michael in the bathroom playing and I was vicerally reminded of being in middle and high school and mom always mentioning how much I looked like my dad (his name is michael) and how I slowly was able to start noticing it too and whenever I sang the song it reminded me of him and I felt like we were overlapping too often felt like id never be anyone but a shadow or his mirror and then i began learning i was trans and now the song makes me think of him even more (he’s not a bad dad he tells me he’s proud of me and stuff there’s just two really big moments he unknowingly failed and one long continuous one but he loves me and he’s proud and he supports me and he didn’t mean it and ive learned to make that enough) and the weird flashback I got when I heard that song and overlapping with his face and how if I transitioned I almost fear I’d be his clone and yeah Anywyas banger song

[pepprs]

mission failed we’ll get em next time 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[tinyorangepotato]

Yo like straight up your parents kinda suck!

he tries but yeah that doesnt make it much better

[house-in-the-backyard-trees]

Listen world if you're gonna just keep having keeping come in my life and then leave bc of my mother then just kill me bc I can't take it anymore

[medicinemane]

I still argue that bleeping someone like Gorden Ramsey is bullshit so that people who love and find swearing fun can pretend that they didn't just hear him call someone a fucking donkey, because there was a bleep... like they don't know the exact word he used, like they didn't think it, and like they didn't have fun with it

Cause I bet you... any amount of money you want honestly, that if you asked Gorden Ramsey not to swear he just wouldn't... I don't think they ever bleep anything in shows where he's helping kids cook

No, people find swearing fun, it's entertaining... they just don't want to admit they like it because it's naughty

And to be clear I'm directly pointing to this and pointing to 'unalive' and drawing a line between them for how we got here

[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.

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!!

series masterlist | next chapter

[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!!

THIRD EDIT: we are now balls deep into this universe here's th link for the masterlist