#and he was also just rude about the fact that I wanted my first tattoo to be smaller cause again I had no clue what it felt like

[hella1975]

the closest ill ever get to being a pick me girl is the joy that fills me when the chefs at work so clearly favouritise me. like im there nicely cleaned up in my smart-casual uniform just a 20 year old waitress smiling my customer service smile and behind me spawns Scary Dog Privilege 10x in the form of several burly middle-aged chefs at least three of which have criminal records and would all stick a bread knife in someone for bothering me

[ghostickle]

I’m impatient and dying (<- has had literal years to get these tattoos done and just procrastinated finding a good tattoo shop)

[yanderenightmare]

part one

TW: nsfw, dubcon, blackmail

fem reader

As promised, you receive the pictures in the mail while the payment is forwarded almost emmidiatly. You don’t know which makes you gawk more, the photos of you or the numbers.

You also get an email—an invitation. The photographer is asking you to dinner. Or, asking is putting it nicely—which he most certainly didn’t. It’s phrased like a notice from your boss—matter-of-factly, he’s picking you up at eight, wear something nice.

You think about declining, but then you think about your friend again and how you don’t want to cause her any trouble. A free dinner isn’t really all that bad, is it?

It’s worse, actually.

“You should have told me you didn’t have anything to wear. I would have lent you something,” is the first thing he says when you get in his car. He hadn’t opened the door for you or anything, just sat in the driver’s seat waiting.

And though your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you think you’re foolish for it. You hadn't really dressed to impress him, after all—something you might as well tell him, “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dressing up. You didn’t exactly leave a good impression last time we met, so I don’t believe I owe you anything.”

He scoffs with a grin—face turned towards the road as he starts driving. “You have a lot more bite without your friend.”

“She has too much respect for you.” You cross your arms and look out the window. 

“That’s for sure.” You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t offer any more of a response. You’re glad to spend the rest of the drive in silence.

You feel underdressed at the restaurant. You hadn’t thought he’d take you somewhere so nice. Most of the other couples there are dressed as if for a gala, while you’re dressed as if you’re going to an office party.

He hasn’t tried too hard himself. But still, he fits in—fat watch on his wrist, kempt hair, neat shoes, dress trousers, and a silk shirt with one too many buttons undone—a nauseating skinny chain beneath the collar as well as the hint of a chest tattoo. You bet it’s one of those dumb tribal inks, probably with some mundane Japanese characters he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Is this where you undermine all the models desperate for your recognition?” you sigh as you sit down.

“We haven't even gotten our menus, and you’re already causing a scene?” 

He’s the one who was rude the moment you got in the car. In fact, he was rude the minute you met him. “Might as well speed this along.”

He chuckles—his smile genuinely amused instead of angered the way you’d imagined—the way you’d remembered from last time when he sent girls crying. “You know, for a face like that, you have one hell of a tongue.”

He orders wine by the name with ease and swiftness before returning to what he was saying.

“I like that. Most models are dull, but not you.”

“I don’t agree. And I’m a model,” you snip, showing no interest in his flirting.

 “No? Didn’t you see the pictures?” Your attitude doesn’t seem to deter him—rather, it only seems to egg him further on. “I have them all mounted on my walls at home—you should come see.”

This makes you falter. Looking at him from across the table with rounded eyes. “On your walls?”

“Framed.” He smiles, finally having broken through—he only intends to take it further. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true. “I just couldn’t help myself. I consider it my best work.” 

The look on your face is something between disgusted and uncertain—speechless in a sense.

It makes him laugh again. “Does anything flatter you?”

The wine comes. He’s poured a glass for testing.

“Not when spoken by men like you.”

His grin grows as he swirls the liquid around, smelling it like a phony.

“That’s a shame,” he says before taking a sip. He nods to the waiter, and you’re poured a similar glass. Meanwhile, he looks at you. “I’d like to flatter you—I’d like to spoil you even. You seem like you deserve it.”

You sip your glass. “No need.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You currently work at a diner, right?”

You gaze at him from atop your glass, brows furrowing. “How do you—”

“I didn’t.” It’s a lie, of course, he’d searched you up and gone over every little detail he could find. “It’s clear from the looks of you—”

“Fuck you,” you snap, putting your glass down a bit too harshly, enough to make a little wine slip and spill.

He doesn’t mind it. “Oh, I want you to,” he says instead. “After I pay for dinner and drive you back. We can fuck right under my favorite portrait of you.”

You’re stunted by his crude words, but only for a second. “How about we skip dinner, and you go fuck yourself.” 

His smile doesn’t drop, even as you get up to leave. “Settle down, sweetheart.”

“Make me, jackass.” 

You’re on your way to go, but his next words have you halting. 

“Either you humor me, or I make sure your friend never models in the country again.”

You turn around to look at him. You don’t really know why you’re so surprised. The card he just pulled is the very reason you agreed to the dinner in the first place. But an incentive is very different from outright blackmail, and suppose you just hadn’t really believed he’d take it that far.

“It’s my impression you don’t want that,” he continues.

You sit back down. He tops your glass off.

“I could make her big, you know?” he offers while pouring for himself as well. “Really speed her career along—set her up for life. I’ll do the same for you, too, of course.” 

He swirls his wine, lifting it as if to make a toast.

“And all you gotta do is come back home with me.”

You don’t have the words.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he promises. “I’m good at it.” As if that’s your concern. “You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again.”

You hate how right he is. 

You’ve never cum sooner or harder before in your life, not with anyone else or on your own. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—so good, you’re screaming—moaning out in echoes throughout his giant penthouse, bouncing off the marble floors into all unlocked rooms, creating a cacophony of your undeniable pleasure.

He’s on his knees beneath you as you lean with your back against the window overlooking the city, barely able to stand as he buries his face between your soft thighs, canting his chin up while lapping hard at your slit and clit. His hard stare set on your face and the way you throw your head back while cumming in his mouth—your hand tussled in his hair, yanking on it hard enough to make him growl.

Your legs and feet give you little support. It's his hands that keep you up as you slide further and further down the floor-to-ceiling window until you’re almost about ready to drop your weight completely.

But he’s made you come undone three times by then, and just can’t wait any longer. 

He’s spun you around before you know it, making you face the pretty lights of the city skyline—his mouth hot on the shell of your ear, “I told you so, didn’t I?”

Your breath fogs the glass with your panting—knees wobbly, only standing thanks to the thick arms he’s got supporting you, each with a tit in their hand, giving them rough squeezes as he starts pounding away at your womb—hard enough to make the city lights blend in with the stars. 

“You won’t wanna fuck anyone else again.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[januaryembrs]

YOU CAN HEAR IT IN THE SILENCE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [9]

description: the TWO big steps you take together.

word count: 13.5k

trigger warnings: entire mr scratch episode including drugging and suic!de, gore, violence, blood, mention of Diana's schizophrenia, mention of hotch's upbringing

author's note: lets do this again UGH. also set throughout season 10 so even though it seems like a jump its been a whole year bcus I can't write about every day my babies spend together.

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‘Cause you can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out,

You’re in love. True love,’

The one where you meet his mom. [you have the parenthood talk]

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her thumbnail instinctively picking at the side of her forefinger as her eyes trailed over the dress in the mirror. 

It was a little too chesty, were the sleeves too short? Would his mom not like that it was backless? Backless meant suggestive to some people. Would she hate her piercings? She could take out a couple of her earrings just for one day, cover the hole where her nose ring slipped in with foundation easily. 

Smile, she needed to remember to smile, not that god awful resting bitch face that Elizabeth used to say looked like she’d sucked a lemon between her cheeks. Smile. No, not like that, that looks fake and awkward. 

Was her make up too much? She would hate for Spencer’s mom to think she looked like a hooker. A cheap one at that. 

She felt his hands on her shoulders before the throes of her vicious mind could nab her once more, and her eyes trailed behind her in the reflective, if not slightly fingerprinted, mirror. 

“You’re thinking loud,” Spencer said as if it was a fact, though that tended to be the way with him, since he knew damn near everything there was to know. Especially about her. “Why are you so worried, it’s my mom. Besides, what’s not to like about you?” 

She huffed, shaking her head even though she really tried her best to give him a smile, instead turning to look down at her hands with wincing, cynical twinge of her lips. 

“Maybe my tattoos or my make up or my slutty dress or my piercings that make me look like I just raided Penelope’s collection of ‘goth chic jewellery’, her words not mine,” She said pessimistically. She didn’t want to dampen the mood, honestly she was looking forward to the woman who graced the world with Spencer Reid (she wondered if a handshake or a hug would be appropriate, she would ask Spence in the car she decided,) “People don’t tend to see me the way you do, honey, I can be blunt and rude and snappy and cold. And it’s your mom, she’s like the most important person in the world to you.”

“She’s joint first, actually” Spencer corrected, trying to lift her spirits even a little. He knew none of the things she was saying were necessarily true. He suspected that voice that had overcome her was not her own at all, more likely her own mother nagging into to her for years to sit up straighter, smile more, make an effort to network and socialise, or any other piece of shit observation about how she acted for Elizabeth to badger her about. 

But then she smiled at him, her eyebrows drawn together a little like she guessed he was lying or perhaps sugarcoating things. 

“You’re allowed to have her first, you know,” Bugsy reassured him, her eyes melty and soft as she looked at him and he nodded, wrapping his arms around her stomach, almost like he was trying to suck the negativity out of her whole body through diffusion of their skin alone. “She’s your mom,” 

“I know,” Spencer said simply, their eyes never breaking the gaze at one another, and Bugsy felt herself warm inside when she saw just how besotted his forest hues were, “Please stop worrying, she’s going to love you,”

“You can’t know that for sure,” She pushed back, because when had she ever allowed herself to enjoy a good thing when she had it. She knew she was being somewhat of a Negative Nancy, and she didn’t mean to be, truly. But Diana Reid was possibly the most significant person in Spencer’s life, despite what he said. And Bugsy was… Bugsy. All teeth and chaos and bite and vicious tongue when she didn’t mean to be. 

If Diana didn’t like her, she wasn’t quite sure she’d be able to look at Spencer again without blurting out the million ways she’d try to make it up to him.

“Oh, I do know for sure actually,” He said, spinning her around so he could see her first hand, not in a reflection or a mirror image, and she smiled despite herself, pressing into his lean body and taking a big whiff of his freshly washed clothes. It was the same detergent she used, the same one he’d always used, and yet it was so Spencer it made her skin crawl with what she thought felt like warm goosebumps.

“Oh yeah?” He nodded proudly, and she progressed to a grin, her chin leaning against his chest as she spoke, and he stroked her neatly braided hair away from her face to see her better, like he’d won the second he saw her smile properly, “How do you figure that one out, wonder boy?”

“I’ve mentioned you in almost every single letter I’ve written to her for three whole years. When she saw the photo of you I sent her, she asked if I’d cut you out of a vogue magazine,” Spencer said and she burst out laughing. He couldn’t say he blamed his mom, the photo he’d sent had been one of Bugsy’s best, but then he’d be willing to argue all of them were just as newsworthy as the last. And nothing compared to the real thing. “You make me happy, happier than I ever thought I was allowed to be. Believe me, I know she’ll love you, because I love you,” 

Bugsy smushed her face into his sweater to hide her modesty, and she pressed a small, barely there kiss to where her lips met even if he wouldn’t feel it. 

“Does my hair look okay?” She checked again, her voice muffled by his thick knitted clothes, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, stroking a gentle hand down her spine. 

“You look beautiful,” He said softly, pulling her away from his body and holding onto her right hand, “Give me a spin,”

He lifted her hand above her head, despite the fact she seemed reluctant and embarrassed, “Spence,”

“We’re not leaving until you give me a spin,” He teased, and his smile was infectious as she twirled around beneath his grasp, the long, floral, sundress fanning out around her knees, “And back again!”

“Spencer-” She said with a chuckle, but he seemed to ignore her, or judging by his smile that spread across his whole face he didn’t care.

“Sorry, it’s just the rules,” He said, though she was almost certain there wasn’t ever such a thing as a rulebook on how to make your girlfriend less of a whiny bitch.

He spun her back around, and by the time she whirled around to face him a second him, his arm dropped down to secure around her waist, yanking her towards him to press a scorching hot kiss to her lips. 

She kissed him back, her tongue trailing against his lip and Spencer’s obscenely large hand released her waist, trailing up her sides to cup her cheeks. Spencer kissed her like she was sucking air right out his lungs, like he was receiving life saving medicine, like he was being graced by an angel, a non-believer, a man of science reaching out to the white gates of heaven as if they were about to disappear under his touch. 

They parted with a small smack that reverberated in the bathroom, and Bugsy looked at him as if he’d infected her with a drug, because truthfully that was how his touch, his kiss, made her feel. 

They settled in his car, a few soft and loving affections later, because she really did look beautiful and he could apologise for smudging her lipstick another time, and Spencer it was the first time in a long time that Spencer felt like his future was laid out in front of him. 

–

She fretted some more in the lobby, the woman behind the desk at the sanitarium lighting up at the sight of Spencer walking towards her with a smile. 

“Dr. Reid,” She enthused, noting the woman next to him that squoze a book to her chest tightly like she wasn't sure what her fingers might do if they were let loose, “She’s been so excited to see you, her doctors said she’s responding well to the new medication,” 

“I heard, I’m glad to hear she’s feeling calmer,” He said, his eyes trailing past the brunette who tapped away at her keyboard idly, “Where is she?”

“She’s just in the sunroom. She’s been learning how to crochet, just like you said,” The receptionist smiled kindly at Bugsy, who looked all but terrified, though she hid it well through tight lips. 

Spencer nodded, reaching up to put a hand between Bugsy’s shoulder’s to lead her through the lounge area where a few other residents watched a black and white movie. 

“Are you sure my make up looks okay, my mascara hasn’t ran has it?” She whispered, because a few other people, some even her age, were sitting in comfy armchairs flicking through books. 

Spencer smiled at her, because she was so cute when she was nervous, usually it was the other way around, “You look lovely, you always look lovely,”

“I believe that’s what’s called voter bias, Dr Reid,” She said, because jokes and wit always seemed to release the pressure on her head when she was stressed. 

He chuckled, opening the door to a large room filled on all sides with windows, and the cosy heat hit her in the face, “Not if what I’ve said is a verifiable fact.” 

“Who’s your secondary source, Dr?” She said, because they seemed to fall into a nerdy sort of teasing when they were like this. Facts and figures were predictable, getting your boyfriend’s mother to like you based entirely on your personality was not. 

“My mom,” Spencer said, and her head whipped to his, ready to protest when he led her to the corner of the sunroom, where a woman sat with her ocean blue eyes screwed up in concentration where two blush pink hooks were crossing and bobbing between a cream thread of yarn, “Mom,”

Her eyes flew up from where she sat, immersed in the delicate movements. Spencer had said a few weeks ago her hands were becoming stiff on her new tablets, that the side effects were making her circulation poor and so Bugsy had been out to help him pick up a crochet kit from Walmart the very same day.

“Mom, this is Bugsy,” He said, and it was his turn to be almost shy as he gestured to the young woman. “The girl I was telling you about,”

Diana stopped for a moment, as if assessing the new face, the way her hair fell around her ears, and Bugsy clutched the hardback tighter to her chest, thinking that maybe she should have gone for something a little fancier than the small piece of twin that wrapped around the present. First time meeting his mom and this was the best you could do, really Bugsy? Where’s the flowers or even another ball of yarn to keep her occupied? 

Bugsy swore her breath caught, her brows furrowing together worriedly as she went to hold a shaky hand out to Diana, but then second guessed herself when she wondered if the loathing of spreading germs was shared between Spencer and his mom. She’d forgotten to check when they were in the car- stupid- stupid girl.

“H-hello, Mrs Reid,” She said quietly, shakily, holding out the book to the woman. Diana Reid looked good for her age, considering Spencer had told her on numerous occasions that she struggled to pretty herself up the way she used to before her Schizophrenia had spiralled. But her hair was a warm blonde with only small traces of grey in it, short around her neck likely for practicality, and despite the fact her face seemed somewhat grumpy, though Bugsy would describe her as lost more than anything, she lit up like a damn firework on the fourth of July the second she saw her son. 

“Spencer!” She exclaimed, holding a hand out for her son to take, which he did so without hesitation. Bugsy thought she might be going in for a hug, maybe that she’d missed the hint that Bugsy was trying to greet her, which the young girl didn’t mind one bit. She was well aware she was stepping on their time together, “Help me out of this chair, I left my glasses in my room, I want to see her,” 

Bugsy felt heat rush to her cheeks as Diana all but threw her crochet set to the little table beside what seemed to be a lukewarm mug of coffee, and Spencer helped her out of the recliner, Bugsy holding out another hand in case she needed it. She was tall once she stood to full height, taller than Bugsy would have thought she would be, and hands were on her shoulders the second Diana had released her son. 

“Oh, look at you!” Diana exclaimed, and Bugsy tried not to falter with embarrassment under her words. But his mother’s hands were soft, if not rough on the tips where she had spent her life flicking through pages on pages of literature, “I’ve always told Spence he was a looker but, my god, you’re a catch even for him,” 

“Mom,” He said indignantly, but Bugsy chuckled through flaming cheeks. Diana waved him off in favour of smiling at the girl, and the second she met eyes with the woman who had raised Spencer Reid she saw where he got his good heart from. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Reid,” She stumbled over her words, trying for a second time to give her the book, and Diana looked almost aghast that she had brought her a present, “Spencer said you’d finished all your books they let you keep here so I bought you one of my favourites-”

“How could I resist The Great Gatsby,” Diana said, running a polished thumb over the gold printed writing, a small smile playing at her lips, “I’ve been meaning to brush up on Fitzgerald,”

Spencer smiled at his mother, who seemed more full of life than she had in weeks, before she waved her hand in front of the two of them, and Bugsy wondered if she had done something wrong. 

“And none of this Mrs Reid crap. You're not the IRS, Diana is just fine, honey,” She said, and Bugsy grinned, nodding in agreement with the older woman. “Mom is even better if you’re feeling brave,” 

“O-okay, absolutely,” She said, smiling even wider when Spencer seemed almost aghast his mother was being so brazen. Though he needn’t be so prudent, Bugsy was certain she loved her already. 

“And how is my big strong FBI agent?” Diana turned to her son finally and he shook his head, his eyes full of boyish affection for the women. 

“There’s dozens of words I think would perfectly describe me yet ��big and strong’ fall nowhere in that category, mom,” He said, smiling widely at his mother who rolled her eyes and nudged him with her shoulder. She seemed more like herself than she had in years, her eyes were clearer, her nerves weren’t shot like usual. She seemed like the mother from his best memories. 

“Alright, how does ‘contumelious’ work out for you?” She cracked back, and he laughed, shaking his head and he caught the pure warm grin radiating from Bugsy’s direction at the two of them. 

And Bugsy saw in the kind, devoted eyes that hid behind Diana’s fluffy white, blonde hair where Spencer got his gentle soul; as if no amount of medication or illness would ever make his mother let up on the tenderness she held for him. She felt it in the air alone, the way they fell into sync only blood could ever achieve, and for a flash of a thought, Bugsy wondered if Spencer would be so doting on their children. 

And for the first time all day she didn’t need to second guess herself. She already knew the answer. 

–

“And this was Spencer in the mathletes,” Bugsy’s hand flew to her mouth to suppress the ‘aww’ threatening to tumble from her lips, because she knew from the way his cheeks had turned a bright rouge that he was embarrassed and she hated to make him feel like she was finding humour in his shame. 

It was easy to see which one was him from the offset. Three college boys who had probably spent the best part of their first years begging sorority girls to fuck them and eating funny brownies stood at the back, atleast in their late teens judging by their late-adolescene acne and braces. Yet there, standing in front of them dressed in a tweed sweater vest and pressed brown trousers as if he was a small grandpa, was a scrawny pole of a boy, peeking out from behind a sweeping fringe in need of a trim and a pair of  bubble-like glasses. 

He was smiling wide, holding some sort of trophy in between his slender, little fingers, and Bugsy could bet her entire savings that he had answered almost all of his team’s questions. 

“Spence,” She murmured, taking the photo gently between her fingertips where she sat in between her partner and his mother at the foot of Diana’s bed, “You were so cute,” 

“You can just say dorky,” He corrected, fighting the urge to cover his cheeks with his hands, because he could feel the way they gave away his self-consciousness. 

But she shook her head, leaning into him with adoring eyes as she stared at the photo, “No, I mean cute. Look at your little hair, you were so tiny- aw!” 

He laughed awkwardly, not missing the way she put a hand on his leg in reassurance, and Diana handed her another photo of a toddler with thick dark hair, those hazel eyes she loved, huge and round on the baby's smiling face. Bugsy melted when she saw the milk teeth gleaming in the midst of his laugh, yet she burst into sheepish giggles when she realised baby Spencer had no clothes on. 

Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the thing dangling between his legs as the picture captured him crawling towards where Diana had the camera. “Mom!” 

Diana rolled her eyes, producing another one of Spencer watering the flowers with the garden hose, barely one year old in a bucket hat and, yet again, nothing else. “Oh, Spencer, don’t give me that, look how cute those little butt cheeks were,” 

Bugsy slapped a hand over her mouth, her brows pulling together at the endearingly innocent photos, and she met Spencer’s gaze again, the urge to squish his cheeks in between her fingers suddenly itching her hands. Though, judging by the embarrassment in his expression, he wouldn’t like it very much even if she did mean the best of intentions.  

“You were so adorable,” She confessed, looking back down at the two tiny, round butt cheeks that made something well in her chest because it was Spencer, so small and vulnerable and helpless. She turned to Diana, her eyes wide with love, “How did you not want just millions of them?” 

The woman laughed, leaning against Bugsy and palming off another photo, this time of Spencer in swimming trunks at the beach, likely around two or three, a line of white sun cream running down his nose and cheeks as he looked to be grumbling about the sand on his legs. 

“Because I knew none of them could ever be as special as my Spencer, and then that just wouldn’t be fair on them.” She said simply, and Bugsy smiled at the woman, truly smiled, because despite everything her illness set against her, she loved her son more than anything in the world. “You don’t win the lottery and then pawn in your rings for a couple bucks, now do you?” 

Bugsy chuckled, shaking her head. Elizabeth had never been so doting on her. She knew she shouldn’t think about her, shouldn’t compare the two of them because they weren’t similar even in the slightest. Diana was a single mother of a deadbeat husband who left, she battled a disease day in-day out that threatened to eat away at her brain, her memories of her son who thought the world of her, and she was still a better mother than hers had ever been. 

Part of her felt that bitter sting that never really left her since she was thirteen, since she saw the maid at breakfast time more often than she ever saw her mother, the kid that got picked up and dropped off in another country like she was furniture, a barbie doll for her mother to primp and clean and boast about her big brain to her colleagues without ever showing a semblance of affection for the girl reading material eight years above her grade level. 

Diana was living proof that no matter what, it’s not a challenge to love your children the way Elizabeth had always made it out to be, that she was difficult to love even for her own mother. 

Bugsy bit the emotion back, knowing it was just the baby photos ramping up her hormones, and felt herself fall perhaps even more in love with Spencer Reid when she saw the photo of him at Christmas dressed as a Jedi. 

–

She was quiet on the way home, her stomach warm with fondness, her hand warm with his palm as they held hands on top of the gearstick. 

She watched the last of the sun peek through the trees in a cantaloupe orange and candy-floss pink swirl, and she let herself close her eyes under the day’s worth of laughter. 

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer said after a moment, giving her hand a small squeeze when she didn’t answer right away, and he wondered if she may have even fallen asleep, feeling immediately guilty for waking her. 

She looked at him with an uneasy smile on her face, and his brain threw up a million different reasons for it, almost all of them making him worry.

“I know my mom is a lot,” He said, his tone jittery and she started shaking her head immediately, forgetting he couldn’t see where he was looking at the road, “I know she’s-”

“She’s wonderful, Spencer. God, no, it’s not that. I loved her,” Bugsy cut him off, and his shoulder’s immediately sagged in relief. She moved her hand to tuck a single lock of hair behind his ear, and he nudged into her touch on instinct. 

“Then what’s wrong?” He asked, his brows pulled together in worry as they came to a red stop light, and he put the Beetle into neutral. He looked over at her then, and he saw the way the grin had slipped off her face, leaving her with something oddly unreadable, though if he had to put a name to it, he would say doubtful, and she swallowed thickly. 

“Do you ever worry…” She paused herself, because she already could see their picture perfect day spiralling down the drain like yesterday’s woes, “It’s nothing, just forget I said anything,”

“No, tell me,” Spencer insisted, and the road around them seemed to hold its breath waiting for her reply. He’d taken a nice route home, claiming he wanted to skip the eight pm traffic, whatever that was, had cut through one of those neighbourhoods they show on holiday brochures or estate agents' windows. The kind people with kids and volvo’s and yoga mom groups lived in.  

Her eyes snapped out the front window when four young boys zipped past them on their bikes, their knees muddy from where they’d probably spent the day playing soccer, their clothes just as messy and torn, likely waiting to be scolded by their mothers for their recklessness. And pulling up the rear was a kid smaller than the others, jogging after them, wanting to cross the road before the light turned green, his glasses slipping down his nose with every step, and some weird, small part in Bugsy’s gut wanted to throw her arms around him and walk him home to make sure he got there safely. 

Spencer’s hand was on her thigh, pulling her out of her thoughts for a second time, and she blinked a little too harshly, wishing she could just enjoy a lovely day for what it was rather than putting such a downer on things. 

“I haven’t spoken to my mom since Emily’s funeral,” She said, swallowing heavily, and understanding passed over his face then. He knew he would never have with Elizabeth what they had just had with his mother. Even if she retired tomorrow and wasn’t jetting off to another country every week, Elizabeth Prentiss was a cold, shrewd woman who could make someone, mainly her daughters, feel empty just by being in the same room. 

Her damning grey eyes, her tight lips that never smiled, her harsh brow. 

“I don’t think she even kept any of my baby photos, none that don’t have her in them at least,” She confessed, and the lights flashed to amber, then green, and he was forced to let go of her for just a moment as he pulled off again, “I don’t… I don’t think she ever liked me.”

He had no idea what to say that would make it better. Usually he was so good at wriggling her problems out from the core, proving all her worst fears were wrong with simple logic. Yet he was at an end. Because Elizabeth had never shown any sign of loving her daughters, truly loving them beyond trophies. 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” He tried, pulling over to stop at the curb because he hated speaking to her when he was distracted. “Some people just have a funny way of showing these things,” 

But she shook her head, turning her eyes to her lap, “Your mom is… Amazing. And I feel like a total asshole for complaining about mine when yours is sick most of the time. And I know things weren’t great- I mean you were just a kid, you should have never had to look after her, it’s supposed to be the other way around, you know? But you’ll know she’s always loved you, like truly, truly loved you. I mean, you’re her whole world,” She rushed, like the thoughts had been bouncing around her head all day, waiting to burst out at the seams, which they had. 

Spencer took the keys out of the ignition, shuffling in his seat to face her, and he only realised then she was watching where the four boys had taken off down the street on their bikes, the smallest one trailing at the back like a lost puppy. 

“Don’t you ever worry sometimes I’ll be..” She started, and he knew where it was going before she forced herself to finish. Taking her hand in his, weaving his fingers between hers and squeezing them tight. 

“Like your mom?” He said for her because the words were lingering in the air like alphabet soup. She nodded silently, grateful that he always seemed to know how her brain was ticking over. She reminded herself to make it up to him later, “Never,”  

“But-” She started, and he grabbed her chin then, forcing her to look at him. He smiled dopily, because usually it was him who needed to be told how other people felt, and she swore his eyes had never looked so sweet. 

“Never,” He repeated, feeling the smile spreading under his fingertips as it took the second turn for her to hear it, “If anything, I worry more about becoming like my dad,”

Her brows furrowed, and she shook her head again. Sometimes Spencer wondered if she knew she was so expressive. It was one of his favourite parts about her.

“Never,” She echoed back to him, and they shared a sombre smile, squeezing each others hand just that bit tighter, “I tell you what, the second either one of us starts becoming our parents, we have the right to call them a jackass,”

He laughed, nodding his head and leaning over the centre console to press his forehead to hers, “Alright, deal. Although I think I hear Freud rolling in his grave at that statement.” 

She kissed him, hard, because she would never be able to tell him exactly how he made her feel with words alone. Over two hundred thousand words in the English Language, at least five other languages she could speak fluently, and yet not one of them knew how to describe this feeling. Like she had been absorbed so completely, effortlessly, by Spencer Reid. That she was disease ridden, riddled with Reid. 

And the thought made her giggle into the kiss, because she would have to tell him some other time. Her hand ran through his hair, pulling him closer, and his hand skirted down to her waist to tease underneath her shirt. 

They pulled away after a moment, staring with the same dazed look in their eyes. 

“We have three more days in Vegas,” She started, fixing his collar and hair with idle fingers and pressing an absent peck to his lips, “Do you think we could go back one more time? To see your mom? If that’s okay with her, of course,” 

And he smiled widely at her, nodding and pulling her in for another long kiss. They had a dinner reservation in a half hour, but he didn’t mind being five minutes late for once in his life, not if it meant he was with her. 

The one with Scratch. [he buys a ring]

He’d walked past the jewellers three times that week on his way back from the coffee shop. Bugsy had a fair bit of paperwork to catch up on, despite him offering to halve her load with her because Hotch had already warned them once about the complaints he got from the other agents that she was using Reid’s memory as an unfair advantage, although he would argue that her brain was just as capable as his. 

So, he’d been sent on a coffee run alone. He wasn’t complaining, it was just down the road, barely even a five minute walk, and it meant he got to look at the range of neatly cut diamonds in peace.

He wasn’t looking to buy it soon, at least that was what he’d told himself the first time he’d seen the pretty one in the corner. He was just having a browse, perhaps just looking at the watches they had on display and his eye had happened to fall to the women’s section below. The second time he’d stopped for a look, it was just to see if anyone had bought that one he’d seen the first time, and when he realised they hadn’t, his heart gave a somewhat relieved sigh that he decided he would confront later. 

By the third time, the shop keeper stuck his head out the door, making Spencer jump. 

“Either you’re buying or you’re fogging up my window, kid,” The old man’s voice was gruff, but he had kind eyes, that of a romantic, and Spencer supposed you didn’t sell a dozen engagement rings a day and not feel hopeful. 

“J-just looking,” He stammered, taking a step away from the rings and double checking he hadn’t gotten any smudges on the glass, “Not to buy right now, just for future reference,”

“No one comes back that many times for future reference, son,” He said with a chuckle and Spencer hated the part of him that said that he was right, “Why not for right now?”

Spencer huffed quietly, wondering if her coffee would be cold by the time he got back at the rate he was going, “It’s still a little early. I don’t want to freak her out,”

She had been his girlfriend for one year, seven months and two weeks (and four days but who was counting). It had been her thirtieth birthday just a couple months ago, as far as he was concerned Bugsy had never dropped any hints about wanting to marry any time soon like he knew other women did at this time in their life. 

He was happy where they were, in their apartment, in their semi-public relationship, with their boys that were starting to look a little grey and rickety on their paws. Spencer didn’t want anything to ruin that, even if that one ring did seem to call out to him like a siren song. 

The jeweller grinned slyly, like he knew something Spencer didn’t, but he nodded at the kid nevertheless, “Well, that little number in the corner you’ve had your eye on has had two offers already, incase that sways your hand at all,” 

And Spencer felt the jolt of injustice in his head at the idea of someone else taking that ring, one that he couldn’t get out of his head the entire way back to the office, one that only went away when he saw her smiling up at him. 

One that only dissolved when he imagined how she would look wearing it. 

–

“Tell Penelope I said hi,” Director Axelrod murmured, turning on his heel and heading back to his car as Hotch flashed a look down at the paper, the name ‘Peter Lewis’ scribbled out on the line and he passed the paper to Bugsy where she peered around his shoulder. 

“Get this to Garcia, Lewis has his final victim already,” He said and she nodded, the two of them heading back to the car. Bugsy pulled her cell out her pocket, immediately calling their tech whizz where the rest of the team were at the office an hour away. 

“Peter Lewis, born and raised in Jacksonville, Florida. To call him a Math genius would be an understatement,” Garcia reported, her press on nails clicking against the keyboard as she worked in the candlelight since Lewis had hacked into their electric systems. 

“Where was he in the foster system?” Hotch asked, Bugsy holding the phone up over the centre console so they could both speak to their team.

“He was… ugh this WiFi hotspot is the worst,” They waited, Hotch heading for the freeway, “He was not in the foster system. He had two very biological parents and they ran the foster home until it- oh dear,”

“Looks like we found Mr Scratch,” Rossi sighed, and Bugsy’s brows furrowed, waiting for a response. 

“So one of the boys in the house said Peter’s dad would dress up as the devil then the other kids would follow suit, this has to be where all the victims stayed before they were adopted and their names were changed,” JJ chimed in. 

“Did Lewis’s father serve any time?” Bugsy piped up, chewing the inside of her cheek because the whole case had given her the heebie jeebies. Grown ups reporting sights of shadow monsters and waking up with dead loved ones. She thought by now she had heard it all. 

“The case was pending and then he was killed in jail for being a paedophile. Peter’s residency is still listed as Florida,” Garcia said, her mouse whirling around at the speed of light judging by the soft ticks they heard on their end. 

“He broke into FBI files to find someone in witness protection, did any of the kids from the home end up in WITSEC?” Hotch asked, clicking the blinker down to chand lanes and overtake the ford infront of them. 

“That would be… no? No, none of them,” Garcia replied, and the team shared a confused pause. 

“Who the hell is he still hunting?” 

Hotch spoke up, his own mind whirring as to who could possibly be Lewis’ endgame, “Garcia, who ran the investigation in Florida?”

“Hold on, that would be Dr. Susannah Regan, who went into witness protection on a very nice estate in Columbia, Maryland,” Bugsy and Hotch looked at one another, sharing the same thought and the unit chief floored the gas pedal, knowing Regan didn’t have a whole load of time left if Peter had gotten to her already. 

“Send Reid the location, we’re on our way,” Hotch ordered, and Penelope was already ten steps ahead, Rossi and JJ grabbing their vests and heading for the garage. 

Bugsy hung up, checking her gun was still holstered as Hotch launched them the final five minutes to Dr Regan’s home. 

And yet she couldn’t help feel like they were walking into the belly of the beast the victims had been describing. 

–

Garcia hadn’t been kidding when she said it was a nice estate. By the time they’d gotten out the car, the entire street was silent, a quiet only lots of acres and high gates bought you. 

“You stay behind me, we watch each other's six. We get Dr Regan and we get out, are we clear?” Hotch muttered, his eyes darling to the living room window where the curtains had been pulled closed, one single lamp left lit. 

She nodded, the two of them edging towards the door that had already been left open a crack, “Crystal,” 

He took a second to breath, wondering if they should wait for back up, but Savannah didn’t have alot of time, not if the unsub was already inside like he suspected, before he raised his hand up to the knocker and snapped it a couple times, pushing the door open. 

“Dr Regan?” 

“It’s open, come in,” The woman’s voice called, though it sounded too chipper to be authentic, some sort of uncanny valley as if it was an automated response from an answering machine. 

Checking Bugsy was still behind him, he pushed on, his footsteps light and quiet, eyes scanning the large antechamber, the grand piano sat in front of a huge fireplace cold to the touch, the lights all switched off despite the owner being home. 

Maybe Dr Regan was cheaping out on her bills. But Bugsy doubted it. Something in her gut didn’t sit right. 

“Are you alright?” Aaron called, his torso squeezing against his vest as he scanned what he could see from the room, and she held up behind him, flicking a look over her shoulder every once in a while for movement from the other rooms. 

“Agent Hotchner, I got Agent Rossi’s message,” She said, again in that cheery voice, despite her words claiming she understood she was in peril, and the sound of it made Bugsy’s chest seize with suspicion. 

“Doctor, you’re in danger, you need to come with us,” She explained, her eyes squinting to see in the damning lowlight of the home. 

“I understand,” That robot voice spoke, “I’m in the study,” 

They paused for a second, exchanging another look before pressing on because they had no time to lose over silly hesitations. Passing through the entrance into the room lined with bookshelves on bookshelves, expensive tapestry on expensive tapestry, their heads flicked over to a frail older woman that somewhat resembled the woman they’d been sent from Penelope, when she had was freshly turned twenty five with a sparkly new bookdeal under her nose. 

She sighed in gratitude when the entered, and Bugsy held back a moment as Hotch moved in, keeping her finger on the trigger, “I’m so glad you’re here, you need to see this,” Savannah produced a long, glass sharp letter opener that could easily pass for a knife with the eight inch edge of it, “He wants you to see this.”

And with that, without hesitation or caution she jammed the knife through her own windpipe as if puppeteered by a master, and Bugsy leapt forward to try stop the bleeding just as Aaron did. 

Only she never got that far, because no sooner had she stepped forward a hand reached out from the darkness, grabbing her by the scruff of her hair and throwing her to the floor while she had been caught off guard. Pain exploded behind her eyes as her nose met the hardwood floor, and she swore she cracked a tooth or two. Her hand scrambled out for her gun, only to watch a large black boot stomp down on her digits that made her hiss in pain. 

She heard a scuffle up ahead where Peter had managed to grab Hotch equally unaware, and she watched her unit chief tumble to the floor, smacking his head on the table on his way down. 

And it was then that she smelled it. A raw chemically odour that ran up her bloodied nose, went into her mouth when she tried calling out for Hotch, and it made her cough up a thick mucus before it had even slid down her throat. 

She heard shots fired, and it was enough for her to reach out for her own gun again, hoping that Lewis was distracted enough to not pay attention to her, only to realise somewhere in the scuffle he had kicked her weapon across the floor. 

When had he done that? Why hadn’t she seen him? Probably because the pain behind her eyes had damn near wiped her vision into a blur of white. 

It was then the nausea hit her, the vertigo washing over her like she’d stood up too fast, only she wasn’t standing up at all, in fact she was pretty sure she was on her hands and knees trying to crawl towards Hotch. 

Hotch, who lay on the floor with his own eyes rolling like the room was spinning for him too, and she wondered how on earth anyone could have beaten Hotch. He was a rock, immovable, irreplaceable, forever. 

“Hotch-” She garbled out, her voice tragic and weak in a way he’d never heard before. 

And he opened his mouth to speak, only to find his own voice gone when he saw the figure leering over her body, a glint of a knife in his hand, and Aaron wanted to know how he had managed to emerge out of the shadows when he could have sworn Lewis was right next to him. 

The drug, it had to be the drug. God his eyelids were heavy, what had they been in this house for?

But Aaron felt a scream lodge in his mouth, sounding more like a yelp, something that could have been a mix of ‘no’ and raw anger because Peter had brought one of those big black boots behind him and kicked Bugsy so hard in the gut she flew to her side like roadkill, the wind leaving her lungs with a whimper of pain, and her eyes never left Hotch’s gaze as he did so. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m going to need some alone time with Mr Hotchner here,” Lewis said, and before Aaron could plea or beg, he watched the man lean down and drive a swift line across her throat, as if he were simply gutting a pig, and her carotid artery was sliced clean in two, her blood spewing all over Aaron’s shoes, seeping into the floor. 

And Aaron went to scream, felt the tears well in his eyes because he’d failed her, only this time, unlike Hailey, he was forced to watch every second of life trickle from her face as she bled out onto the floor, choking and clawing at the floor for reprieve. 

What would he say to the team, to Spencer? What would he say to Emily?

Aaron let himself sob, shaking his head in denial and squeezing his eyes tightly shut, hoping to god medical would get here soon. It would be too late by then, he already knew it. 

Bugsy was dead. There wasn’t any miracle fix or band aids that were going to fix that. 

And yet in the next moment the sound of her body writhing in desperation against the floor, the sight of which he couldn’t even bring himself to watch, it had gone quiet. 

And Aaron peeled his eyes open, wondering if she had passed, if she was still in pain, if she wanted someone to hold her hand as she went, and he urged his heavy muscles to do something god damnit anything to help her, except his body felt like lead and even opening his eyes was too much for him. 

But there was nothing there. Not the puddle of blood he’d just watched spill over the flooring, not her hand reaching out for him, clawing at her throat for reprieve and certainly not a body of a girl he once loved like a daughter who would stay with him for a lifetime. 

All of it, just… gone. 

“Don’t you worry, Mr Hotchner, I’m saving the girl for later. Can’t have a pretty thing like that go to waste,” Lewis smiled toothily, and Aaron wanted to wrap his hands around the bastard’s throat, wring the life out of him until he was a crumpled mess on the floor, “But for now, it’s you and me, Aaron. And I think you should answer your phone. Your team are on their way for you,”

–

Her scream was piercing, cut through two walls. He could hear it the second they stepped out of the car. He’d all but thrown himself out the vehicle before Anderson had even stopped, probably would have barged right through the front door without even drawing his gun if it hadn’t been for Morgan grabbing him. 

“Reid, Reid, no-” Derek said, even though his voice wavered, his head flicking back at the house, “You can’t just head in there without backup, it could be a trap, man,” 

“She’s in there, can’t you hear her?” Spencer said, his eyes wide with terror as the sound of her screaming kicked up a whole other decibel and Spencer's stomach churned at the thought of what might be the root cause of it, “Please, Morgan, I can’t-” 

He didn’t even realise his eyes had welled up at the sound alone until he couldn’t finish his words, and Derek was staring at him with an equally solemn expression. 

JJ rounded the other SUV, Rossi at her tail, their guns drawn low to their thighs as they gave Derek a nod; ready to enter. 

“Just promise me you’ll keep your head, Reid,” Morgan said with a cautious tone. Realistically, Spencer should have stayed back at the office with Kate. He was too emotionally invested in the case, though no one wanted to be the one to argue that with him, knowing Spencer would only fight back that they would all struggle to keep their cool once they entered the house. 

Because the UnSub had Hotch and Bugsy. He’d taken family. He’d made it personal. 

And then, just as Spencer nodded, unholstering his own gun and making sure his vest was tightened at his waist, perhaps the worst happened. 

A shot fired from inside the house, loud and unmistakable over the deafening cries and Bugsy’s screaming stopped. 

–

Spencer didn’t even remember entering the house, not really, despite his promise to Morgan. He felt like his heart was in his throat, images of Maeve’s brain matter splattered over the warehouse floor flooding his head, because apparently a revolver can cut through two heads at once and still pack a punch.

Spencer was realistic, had sprung into a clinical sort of worry that told him exactly how many times he’d told her he loved her (two thousand, six hundred and seventeen times) and that maybe that wasn’t enough. It told him the amount of kisses they’d shared could have easily been doubled if he dared to steal them more often before bed, if he’d been honest with her years before he had, if he’d just taken five minutes off his showers. 

He had barely survived Maeve dying. If Bugsy was gone… there would be nothing left of him. Nothing important anyway. Just a body, limbs, a heart that would never beat again. He wagered even his blood would stop because the idea of her gone from the world had already made him cold. 

He heard movement in the living room, and judging by the way Derek’s head whipped over to their right, he had too. And before they could raise their guns up to aim, Derek edging forward to kick the door in with pure, simmering rage, a voice sounded out from the other side. 

“In here!”

Hotch. Hotch, who sounded like he was weeping, or at least had a frog in his throat, hummed his words almost. The men drew a breath of relief, Derek reaching forward to open the living room door, his weapon still tight in between his fingers as he pushed. 

“Hotch?” He said, though Spencer’s eyes cast around the room the second he confirmed his unit chief was okay. He had a nasty gash on his head, likely from where he’d fallen, and his pupils were dilated. Drugged. “Hotch, where’s Bugsy?”

“H-he took her-” Aaron slurred, attempting to get to his feet, holding out a hand to the sofa and using the furniture to claw himself up to a stand, “Upstairs I think- I need to get her- Where’s my gun-”

Morgan rushed in to grab Hotch under his arms as Rossi and JJ burst in from the kitchen, Rossi calling out behind them for medical attention. 

“Hotch, you’re not going anywhere, you need to- Reid,” Morgan yelled, but Spencer ignored him. Because he could apologise later. 

Lewis had Bugsy alone, had taken her upstairs, that was what Hotch said. And Spencer couldn’t stand by and wait while they had no idea what was happening to her. He heard JJ’s footsteps pounding behind him, following him up the stairs, and he knew he should be paying more attention for any hint if Lewis was still in the building. But he didn’t. All he could think about was those screams. Raw. Guttural. Like she was being skinned alive. 

His eyes trailed the empty bedrooms, any sign of movement whether it be Lewis or the woman he would trade his own life for in a heart beat if it came down to it. But there was nothing there, not even as JJ swept the other handful of rooms, leaving them with one small storage room at the end of the hallway, and the two of them cast a glance at one another. 

JJ nodded to him, and he reached out a shaky hand, praying on everything in the vast universe he’d spent his entire life learning about that someone heard him begging to keep his Bugsy alive. 

He slid the door open, cocking his gun up to the figure in the corner, his own weapon at his feet as he smiled in a smug manner. 

JJ took stock of their surroundings, waiting for the trap they were walking into to spring, only he held his hands out in surrender. 

Because he had already gotten what he wanted. He had killed Dr Regan, and taken two cops down with him. 

“Where is she?” Spencer spat, handing JJ cuffs as the woman grabbed him harsher than she should do, because the pleased look on his face was infuriating, only made worse by the chuckle that bubbled out of his mouth. 

“She’s in the closet,” He nodded his head to the smallest bedroom, and Spencer’s eyes narrowed, “She sure is a darling, isn’t she? So easy to tame once that smart mouth of hers was gone,” 

Spencer wanted to shoot him between the eyes there and then, put him down like the sick dog he was, but instead he fled after where Lewis had directed him, because he didn’t know if she was injured herself or if it was already too late.

For once in his life, Spencer Reid knew nothing. 

–

And then he saw her. 

She was alive, thank god she was alive, a dent in her nose that suggested he’d thrown her to the ground face first, her knees skinned, her palms scratched. 

But that wasn’t what worried him.

Because no sooner had he opened the door to the closet, reaching forward to yank her hands off her ears, or maybe pull her for a hug, or maybe break down into sobs and tell her how sorry he was he couldn’t have stopped any of it, she’d started screaming again. 

He didn’t think after so many years on the job he’d ever heard something so gut-wrenching. For a moment he thought he might even be sick. Because it was full of pure terror. Not the childish fright you get from a scary movie or a loop de loop on a rollercoaster, but blood curdling fear like he had never heard before. 

It was enough to have Morgan running up the stairs with his gun drawn, only to see Spencer frozen, his hands reaching out to grab her, and it was only then the agent realised Reid was trying to speak to her. 

“Baby, baby it’s okay, it’s me, it’s Spencer, you know me,” He said, his lip quivering, his words warbling with tears, “Please, please come back to me, I don’t know what to do- please just tell me what to do-” 

“Reid, she’s not herself. Hotch said Lewis made him see things, awful things, just like he did with the other victims,” Morgan said, holstering his gun, his own resolve crumbling when he came closer and realised she had her eyes screwed tightly shut, curling herself into a ball in the corner like a kid trying to hide from the boogey-monster.

But Spencer didn’t listen, he couldn’t accept that they had found her alive and still he had been too late, didn’t want to accept that he had her in his grasp and yet she was still living her a personal hell with no end in sight. 

“Please, please, come back to me,” He sniffled, leaning forward onto his knees to try hold her hands in his, maybe get her to hear his voice and wake up from whatever nightmare she was stuck in, “Come on, I got you,”

“No, no, no, you’re not real, you’re not real,” She screeched, shoving his hands off her, and it was then he saw the dribble of tears running off her nose, “You’re not, I won’t kill him, I won’t-”

It was the ravings of a mad woman. But Spencer didn’t doubt for one second that whatever was happening inside that big brain of hers felt entirely real. He heard Morgan draw a sharp breath, turning to face away from the girl and steady himself where his dark eyes lined with woe and salt. 

Spencer hated seeing her cry, hated not knowing how to help her even more, and he didn’t care if she pushed him away even more. He had to hold her, hold her and make her listen, make her understand she was safe because he was there. 

Spencer swore then and there that he wouldn’t let anything touch her ever again as long as he lived. 

It took everything in him to ignore the way her hands scratched at his wrists desperately, and he wondered if in her mind he’d taken the form of some beast ready to swallow her whole. But he was sure he could calm her down with some coaxing, get her to see what was real if he was patient and gentle enough. He scooped an arm under her legs that shook, and it only took him a second to realise he had peed herself in the throes of her nightmare, the sight of it causing another cry to roll from his tongue. He didn’t care about the mess, because his entire focus was on her as her hands thrashed against his chest, trying everything to get him off her, even when his other hand wrapped around the back of her head and pressed her tightly into his shoulder, squeezing her against him in his lap like she was an inconsolable child. 

“Please, please, I can’t, I can’t do it again, I don’t understand,” She wailed, her voiced croaking and pathetic and he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d damaged her vocal chords, “I don’t understand,” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” He cooed softly, pressing his head next to her ear and rocking her slowly, “It’s me, it’s Spencer. I’m real, this is real,”

Her hands stopped their fight against his body, his own grip tight and not showing any signs of letting go any time soon as he waited for her to wear herself out, for her body to lose its adrenaline and slip out of its fight response. She pushed him limply a few more times, with little more than the strength of a toddler, and he knew she was coming back down, at least something close to it. 

“I’m so tired,” Her voice was muddled with tears, slurring and stumbling over each other and it was then that JJ walked in with three paramedics behind her. 

The blonde’s face evened out when she saw the girl was alive, nothing but a few surface wounds, but it was then she saw over Spencer’s shoulder the way her eyes were clenched tightly together, the red marks on Spence’s alabaster skin where she had put up a fight behind cradled in his arms. 

And JJ knew then that something inside Bugsy had changed that day. 

“I know, you were so brave, you were so brave for me,” Spencer nodded, his cheeks flooding as he tried to keep his tone strong, stroking the back of her hair softly, “You did so good, I’m so sorry,” 

“I’m so tired and I don’t understand,” She said, like she was putting sentences together for the first time, and it was like suddenly the fight had been sucked out of her as she slumped against him, not even realising in her haze that she needed to be showered off desperately. 

“I know, honey,” He murmured, sniffling and pressing his face into her neck, “You can sleep now, I got you,”

She hummed like she didn’t quite believe him, like she still thought he was some figment of her imagination, but she hadn’t the strength to fight back, to call his bluff. And so she drifted in and out of sleep, as the paramedics got her on a stretcher, Spencer hovering over her face incase she woke up in a panic again, cracking her eyes open right as they got her on the back of the ambulance and suddenly it wasn’t Spencer’s face she saw flitting in and out of her eyeline, it was Hotch. 

“Hotch-” She tried, her hand swinging out at her side with her attempt of grabbing onto his face because there was a trail of blood down his cheek. Her voice was fried, just like Spencer had suspected, her words sounding as if she had swallowed stones, “Hotch, your head,”

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I should have known he would be there,” Hotch said, as her eyes rolled back, straining desperately to keep herself awake. But she had said it herself. She was just so tired. “I shouldn’t have taken you in there,”

“I don’t think I like dreaming anymore,” She garbled childishly, a small frown on her face, and Hotch bit his lip to hide a whimper, raising a hand to her cheek, and Spencer sat at the foot of the stretcher, his neck and wrists sore where she’d clawed him, but he didn’t care. 

Hotch gave her a long kiss to her forehead, one Spencer pretended not to see for the sake of paperwork, because he knew Hotch needed it, even as she’d been sucked right back into the reverie of sleep, their eyes never left her frail form, not even when the paramedics started hooking things up to her wrists to take her charts. 

Spencer knew then he should have bought that ring. 

–

She’d been staring at the ceiling for about five minutes before he tried to pry an answer out of her. 

He’d tried not to smother her the second she woke up, had seen the hesitation and distrust swirling in her gaze when she saw him there, and he wondered if she thought it was another one of her dreams she had yet to wake up from. But he was real, and he was worried, and he loved her. God, did he love her. Loved her so much he couldn’t stand for one more moment to see her so dissociated from a world where she was his and he was hers and everyone was missing her.  

“What did he make you see?” Spencer tried, his voice as soft as he could try make it without crying, because her gaze remained in her lap, the side effects of the drugs making her a little woozy, “Baby, I can’t help you unless you talk to me, please just, let me help you,” 

Her throat was in agony the second she opened her mouth to speak, ripping with pain when she cleared her throat and in an instant, Spencer’s hand was on her thigh drawing comforting circles with his thumb. 

“Emily was there, she came to- r-rescue me,” She started shakily, her hands trembling beneath the covers and she breathed slowly through her mouth, “S-she wasn’t wearing a vest, and when I asked her she said she’d gotten the first flight out of London to get me; and then… Doyle,”

She swallowed, and he took her hand in his, giving her a reassuring squeeze, and she tried not to let her eyes well up only to find it was already too late. 

“He stabbed her like he did that night, but it was different this time. She was on the floor, trying to get away, begging me to call for help but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything, and I was trying so hard to scream and tell someone, but I couldn’t…” She sniffled, squeezing his hand so tight it hurt, but he didn’t care, “And he wouldn’t stop. He just kept going, over and over again, and I had to watch every second of it knowing it was my fault,” 

The floor was red, a horrible midnight ichor of Emily’s blood seeping from her body, more blood than a person should ever be able to hold. Last time Doyle had killed her, there had been a hairline chance that she would pull through and Emily had beaten all the odds stacked against her. 

But this wasn’t like last time. There was no miracle escape to Europe. Bugsy would be surprised if there was even anything left of her to put in the casket. 

Her eyes were terrified as she watched Doyle drive the knife into Emily’s skin, the scream lodging in her throat for a reason she couldn’t place. She begged herself to do something, say something, tell the man that she would rip him limb from limb if she ever got the feeling back in her legs, wail for help because that was her sister, her big sister, and she’d stopped moving a while ago. 

Stop, stop it, stop it.

But the words wouldn’t come out. She was frozen. Numb. Like someone had unplugged her from the socket, and the only part of her that did work was her eyes, why did it have to be her eyes. 

And the blade was red, so red she thought she’d never see anything else other than red again, as so was the floor, and his arms, and Emily’s clothes. Red. All over. Driving into her stomach with a wet squelch that made Bugsy want to vomit. 

Over and over and over.

She burst out crying then, the first real emotion she’d shown in days, and he was out of his chair in seconds, cradling her to his chest and shuffling to sit next to her on her bed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it wasn’t real, baby,” He soothed, and she shook her head, her tears soaking his shirt through, and all he could do was stroke her hair down and press gentle kisses to her brow, “You were so brave,”

“And his face changed, and he wasn’t Doyle, it was Hotch. And he-he gave me his gun, and said I had to pick between him or you because one of you had to die and-and I wouldn’t do it, I wouldn’t pick-” Her words warbled into his shirt, an amalgamation of sobs and deep breaths in between sentences, but she needed to get it out. It would eat her alive if she didn’t.

“Choose,” It was Hotch’s voice. The same rough edge, same bite he used with the UnSubs they chased, the tone he’d never used on her. 

She shook her head, because the feeling had tingled back up her spine into her neck by now, and with it brought her voice, her sorrow. 

“No, no, Hotch, please don’t make me, I can’t, I won’t-” She sniffled, looking at the thunderous eyes of her unit chief she’d known for years. He didn’t look like himself, like someone was wearing him as a mask, yet she knew it was him by his steady hands that drew his gun from its holster. He had always been sure of himself. 

How had she got here? Had Lewis got to Hotch, brainwashed him into slaughtering and terrorising his own team. Whatever it was, Bugsy knew in her chest that whatever was standing in front of her was not Aaron Hotchner. 

“Me or him,” He said simply, as if it was that easy, as if he wasn’t pressing a gun to Spencer’s head. 

The sob fell from her lips before she could help it, looking to Hotch’s feet where he held the love of her life bound, his eyes rimmed with fear. 

“I can’t, please, I can’t,” She wept, her cheeks soaked, the salt trickling down her neck and into her shirt. Or was it blood. Had she hit her head? Why did her head hurt?

She couldn’t care, couldn’t think of anything other than the fact a monster had taken over the man she thought the world of. She knew if anything happened she would never be able to hold it against him if anything happened, even if it would always be his face in her mind killing Spencer. Because it wasn’t him. It was Lewis. It wasn’t him. 

Hotch’s finger clicked a bullet into the chamber, pointing the gun at Spence’s crown, and she warbled in protest, because her legs were still numb, her body from the waist down useless, but this time she could scream and fight and yell all the ways she begged for this to stop. 

“Hotch, please, please don’t. It’s not real, it’s not real,” She yawped, her chest in agony, her head spinning because she could have sworn Emily was just here, could have sworn she had been coming to save her. Why was Emily here? And she’d usually be embarrassed to admit it at her big age, but she wanted her sister. She wanted her big sister more than anything, “Hotch,” 

But the man who looked and sounded like Aaron Hotchner wasn’t listening. Instead he looked at her with a steely glare, cocking the gun once more between his fingers, “If you’re too much a spoiled little bitch to choose, then I suppose I’ll have to do it for you,”

And with that he pulled the muzzle away from Spencer’s head, and before she could say another word, utter another plea, he angled the weapon under his chin, pointing it straight for his brain, and pulled the trigger. 

She thinks she screamed, though her hearing had gone with a staticky blur, his blood spraying across the wall like something out of a slasher movie. She remembered howling in shock, her face soaked with ichor and salted tears, and she expected Spencer to rush forward, grab her in his arms and cradle her with soft words. 

But he did. Those hazel eyes she would know in every life time stared blankly at her, all trace of terror gone from his gentle face, and in a whirl of movement, he was standing where Hotch had been, his body gone in a wisp of smoke, like he was nothing more than a magician’s magic act, like her chest hadn’t just cleaved in two at the sight of him dying. 

And Spencer took his place, the lips she’d kissed a thousand times pressed into a scowl, the hands she wanted to melt under, to hold her and tell her he was going to fix everything and make it make sense again holding the loaded gun. 

And at his feet, bound by the same rope he had been was JJ. Freightened, beaten. Mother, wife, best friend, sister. JJ.

“Choose,” Spencer said, but it was cold and unfeeling. Nothing like the saccharine tone he used with her, and she felt the pit of pain and suffering and dread that had opened in her stomach grow only deeper, “Me or her,”  

–

She had cried for about two hours after that, and he had held her for all seven thousand, two hundred seconds of it, stroking her hair, reassuring her that Lewis was gone, the drug disposed of, and more importantly, telling her he would never let anything like that happen to her again, over his cold, lifeless body. 

And he meant it. With everything in him, Spencer would never let an UnSub get so close to harming the woman he loved. Not a bruise, or a cut. Not even a scratch. 

And for the three days they’d kept her in for observation she’d slept, and slept some more like she hadn’t known a wink of rest in years. And with it came the nightmares, of all the people she loved splattering their own brains over the walls, Chose, chose, me or them?

But by the fourth day she was allowed more than one visitor in her room, the spot that had solely been filled by Spencer, who would take to his grave that he’d gone home and washed their clothes of the mess she’d made when she wasn’t herself. 

And on that fourth day, the team had arrived with love by the bucket load, because Bugsy was family, and family never let each other suffer alone.

“Oh, look at you!” It was Penelope first, ofcourse it was Penelope first, “Spencer, where’s that cardigan I told you to bring her, she could get cold, and that purple is so her colour- oh what am I saying, come here!” 

Penelope bounded over to her bedside, not completely blind to the way Spencer tensed up as she threw her arms around the girl, fighting his urge to chide Garcia into being more gentle because he knew he’d been hogging time with her while the others had been forced to wait. 

“Pen,” Bugsy said, breathing out and hugging the woman back as hard as she could, “Why do you smell like lavender?” 

Garcia released her clutches (reluctantly) and produced a big tote bag of trinkets, one of which Bugsy suspected was a candle. 

“Spencer said they might be keeping you another couple of days and so I brought you some goodies to cheer this place up,” She said with a chirp, reaching in her bag for two stuffed teddies, and Bugsy’s eyes melted when she realised they resembled Niko and Sergio, their colourings not quite identical but the thought had been there, “So you don’t miss your boys too much.”

Bugsy smiled, her chest spreading with warmth “Thankyou so much, Penelope,” 

And Garcia went to respond, her smile wide and relieved, when another voice spoke up behind her, “Quite hogging her, mama, there are people waiting to see the kid,” 

Penelope rolled her eyes which made Bugsy snicker slightly, moving out the way for Derek to lean over her bedside and give her a tight squeeze. 

“You gave us a scare and a half, baby cakes,” He said with a sigh, and she hugged him back the best she could, though his arm muscles were the size of her head. 

“I’m sorry,” She murmured, and he patted her on the back gently, before letting her go for the next person waiting to pounce on her. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t need to be sorry,” JJ shushed, her slender arms all but crushing her into her chest, and she heard the breath of relief from the woman’s throat as she stroked a hand over her spine, “Just get better for us, okay?”

And Bugsy knew she didn’t mean the crack in her nose Peter Lewis had given her when he’d grabbed her by the nape of her neck and slammed her face into the wooden door the second Hotch’s back was turned. She meant the screaming. The nightmares. The chill that ran down her spine even now when she looked at every one of her friends and remembered that night. Picturing their brains on the wall, their blood on her face-

“Henry drew you a picture,” JJ said, pulling away and presenting her with her own gift basket full of homemade goodies and fresh pyjamas because the ones she had from the hospital were starting to itch, “He said you needed magic kisses,” 

Plucking the card from the front of the wrapping, her lips quirked into a smile when she saw two stick figures, a small dot with yellow hair labelled ‘henry’ with an arrow, and a tall woman with a triangle dress and two glittery wings labelled ‘bugy’, and she was almost certain it was because they had played fairies and princes the last time she had gone over. 

She flipped the page, and saw his hand writing scrawled in a green crayon, a few spelling errors here and there where he had tried his best. 

‘to bugy

mommy said you wer hurt at work and needed somethink to make you happy agan.

I gave the card majick kisses before mommy takes it to the hospital to make you better agan. 

also plees coud we play princes again some time soon.

Love Henry’ 

She chuckled, her finger stroking over the letters gently, because she could imagine him at his little blue table writing it out for her, and she handed it off to Spencer to put on her bedside table. 

“Thankyou JJ,” She said earnestly, and the blonde nodded, squeezing her leg under the blanket gently before she moved over for Rossi to shuffle in, ruffling the girl’s hair because he would joke later that his back couldn’t handle all the movement when really he felt like she’d been mauled with enough affection for one day. 

“You okay, kid?” He said, his eyes roving over the bruise on her nose that had bled into her eyes, and she nodded, smiling up at him somewhat convincingly. 

“I’m still kicking aren’t I?” She said, and the older man chuckled, shaking his head, “Can’t get rid of me that easily,”

And it was almost true, the small seed of double planting in her own head because for a second in that house she had thought things were done for her. And Spencer had thought the same, judging by the way he nervously cleared his throat, playing with the collars of his shirt.

But Rossi nodded with her, “You kidding? There’s enough life left in you to resurrect all of my dead end marriages,” The team snickered, Rossi squeezing her arm the way grandads do, “Kate sends her love, she had to take Meg to her dance recital, she said she’s dropping by later with good coffee,” 

Bugsy took a sigh of pleasure, because she would kill for a steaming cup of good coffee, and Rossi smiled at her attitude they’d all missed in the office. 

And then there was Hotch, who looked damn near like a dog with a tail between his legs, sporting his own jagged forehead wound that had been stitched up, his lips pulled into a guilty pout unlike everyone else's grateful beams. 

“Bugsy,” He started mournfully, and he swallowed heavily, “I’m-” 

“Don’t-” She shook her head, looking up at him from where she’d sat up in the bed to accommodate everyone’s hugging, “It wasn’t your fault, so don’t give me that. He caught us both of guard,” 

But he still didn’t look like he quite accepted that answer, settling to reach out and squeeze the hand that was laying across her stomach, his skin warm and rough as he held her like she was cracking glass under his touch. 

She realised she had been wrong that day with Lewis, when she’d been damn near shaking in her spot because of the man who looked so much like Hotch, and she saw the fatal flaw that gave it all away. 

His face was set in a frown more often than not, and it was for that reason a lot of the agents on the other floors lived in fear of SSA Hotchner’s thunderous tone and barking attitude, but Bugsy knew that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Because while he could be cold and domineering and bossy, his eyes told her all she needed to know. 

He was hurt. He was guilty. He was worried. He was mourning. He couldn’t stop seeing Peter Lewis slitting her throat in that flash of a blade. He didn’t want to take his eyes off her incase it was all a dream in itself, that they had never been found, he had never woke up, they had never saved her. 

His eyes were haunted by the past twenty years of his life, perhaps what happened even before then because she wasn’t so stupid to miss how he was more rough on child beaters and abusive fathers than he was their usual UnSubs, how he was so extra gentle with Jack, how he hated raising his voice. And inside the big scary exterior, Bugsy saw a boy who only wanted to save everyone because no one was ever there to save him. 

She squeezed his hand tightly in hers, pulling him towards her and he’d resisted hugging her to start with because he knew the frog would leap into his throat, but he could never deny her. And he didn’t, he simply leaned over, caressed the back of her head over his shoulder with one of his enormous palms and gave her a warm hug no monster or demon or whatever she had seen could ever be capable of. 

And Bugsy felt stupid for ever believing anything she’d seen. 

–

They stayed for another hour or so, Derek running out to grab Bugsy a subway because the food at the hospital hadn’t been the best, and she had devoured the steak and cheese footlong so fast Rossi’s brows had raised into his hairline. Spencer handed her a strawberry flavoured pudding pot, the lid already peeled open for her and a spoon.

And it was then a figure came rushing through the door, so fast they were surprised they hadn’t heard the heels on the linoleum and the whole room stopped for a breath, Bugsy dropped her pudding cup down her shirt, barely even making her first bite count. 

“Why did no one tell me those two were screwing for eight months?” Emily barked, gesturing between the two agents that cuddled up on the hospital bed, and almost as soon as the pure joy to see her older sister had flooded her body, it ebbed again, and Bugsy rolled her eyes.

“Eleven hour flight, Em, and a buttload of head trauma and that’s all you have to say to me?” She snipped, mopping up her pudding with the edge of her finger. 

“I got weekly updates about the consistency of Sergio’s bowel movements but this you missed out?” She threw her hands up, sighing in contempt and almost immediately the girls were bickering like they hadn’t spent a single day apart from one another, but then Spencer supposed that’s what happened when you were blood. 

And part of him wondered just who was going to tell Emily about the proposal, the same small part that had gone and bought the ring just yesterday while she’d been sleeping. 

He supposed he could live with it being his secret for a few weeks longer. 

--

TAGLISTS:

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[liminalmemories21]

Ficlet (911 - Buck/Tommy)

Inspired by this thirst trap

(and @cecilyv said this was sufficient unto itself and didn't need to go further)

He's three hours into a 48 when he gets the first one.

He's used to a string of texts, voice messages, videos from Evan when he gets back to base and has time to check his phone.  Doesn't think twice about clicking on this one.  Stares at it open mouthed, and then hits play again immediately.

Lucy peers over his shoulder and gives a low whistle.  "Damn."

From across the break room Garvey calls out.  "Share with the class."  When Tommy flips him off he adds.  "It's your duty."

He looks up at that.  "It's my duty to share the thirst traps my boyfriend sends me?"

Knows it was a mistake when Garvey gets up and comes over to lean against the back of the couch to try and see his phone.  He twists his head.  "Didn't know you played for this team, Garvey."

Garvey shoves at his shoulder.  "I don't, but I'm bored, and I wanna see what's making Donato's eyes bug out."  And, well, as thirst traps go it's ... well he's not sure what it is, but it's not showing anything Garvey couldn't see if he showed up at the 118 gym, so...  He hits play.

It is, technically speaking, a thirst trap.  Evan is shirtless, just wearing thin well worn sweatpants - and, Tommy suspects from how low they hang, nothing else.  Acres of skin and tattoos on display.  He's also vacuuming.  Garvey blinks at him when the video ends.  Finally says, in a faintly shocked tone.  "Kinky."

Tommy has to laugh.  Doesn't think much of it.  Except, there's another one waiting for him when he gets back to base.  This time Evan's folding a fitted sheet.  Tommy recognizes it as one of his, and then recognizes the edge of his couch behind Evan, and realizes he's used the key Tommy gave him a few months ago to go and do his laundry.  To be fair Evan'd had an equal hand in getting those sheets dirty, but still the thought of getting to go home at the end of his 48 to clean sheets, and clean towels, and neatly folded laundry, and, knowing Evan, a fridge full of neatly portioned food is ... it makes something warm curl and stretch in his heart, like a contented cat.  He doesn't need to be taken care of, he's been on his own for decades.  But, someone who wants to take care for him, that's something he'd been starting to think he'd never get to have.

They come at irregular intervals after that - Evan baking, Evan washing the dishes, Evan setting up coffee - always shirtless, always in those low slung pajama pants that get lower with each video.  If Garvey keeps looking over his shoulder eventually he might see something that'll scar him.  Tommy will enjoy it though. 

Garvey peers at the one of Evan washing dishes, and says dubiously, "And this does it for you?"

It does actually, to an embarrassing degree, but he doesn't actually feel like sharing that particular fact.  Lucy unexpectedly comes to his rescue, elbows Garvey sharply.  "Nothing is hotter than a man who does housework."

Garvey looks skeptical.  "Yeah, you think Carol would think it's hot if I did the dishes just wearing my boxers?"

Lucy and Marcus both snort.  Marcus slaps Garvey on the back.  "Garvey, you do the dishes without being asked and Carol's gonna call me and ask if you had a head injury recently she doesn't know about."  Which is rude, but fair.

He texts Evan / you're getting quite a following over here / .... / you might have to start an OnlyFans page /

/ Only fan I'm interested in is you / is the response he gets back instantly

[crimswnred]

LITG TEMPTING FATE: CASA IS HEREEEEE

okayyy!!! i spy with my little eye 3 hotties

maybe it's the best casa we ever had looks wise

and there's liam lmaooo

anyway he's rude so I'm happy he's also ugly

my MC is waiting for her one true love Jin

but I'll replay it later and stick with Jack so I can be with one of the Casa Guys

look at Kyle's legs omg

what have fusebox done to my sweet girl Emel who believed in romance and wanted Oakley to declare poetry??

this is the face of a man who's unreliable 👇

source? bro he's blonde AND has long lashes

Claudia chill I wasn't actually serious when I said I would couple up with you sorry

OMG BEA LIKES WOMEN !!!!!!!!!!!!

anyway chill I'm trying to be loyal here

first day of casa ✅ still not a cheater

ofc they would cut Bea in the middle of what she had to say...

raunchy is always so fun I love kissing boys just for the fun

yeah, I am the funniest, the most travelled and also I'm a dancer, so yeah, I'm the sexiest dancer

and why would anyone think EMEL is the wildest girl? c'mon

these are the eyes of a man who lost his soul 👇

guys never mind he's actually hilarious

what do you mean WE HAVE TO SWITCH?

I don't want to switch? I want my boyfriend back

is it just me or do you guys also want to bite Kyle? just me? ok!!

yadda yadda everyone loves me yadda yadda

Max is literally a child omg

fusebox I fucking hate you

anyway party time!!!!!

which means let me see the outfit for this week

I don't hate it but I also don't love it. the tits are great but the pants could fit better

MCs body is tea

"I had sex in all the continents" followed by this:

lmaooooooo

anyways, there are 6 continents: America, Europe, Asia, Africa, Oceania and Antarctica, I don't know why you guys pretend America is actually two continents like...

as a Brazilian, my girl Claudia would defo point that out. check your facts fusebox

KYLE TATTOED WHO????

AND WHAT DID HE TATTOO????????

jk we don't give a fuck about Gabi, Suresh and s5 mc mess MOVING ON

I just chose Max for my last turn in the game to be messy

stop judging me??

EMEL WE WERE BEST FRIENDS JUST YESTERDAY WHAT'S YOUR DEAL??????

Kyle is so nice <3

oh...

guys I may not be the loyal girl I promised I was

you can't give me a guy with that amount of tats and expect me to not let him touch my thigh ok?

... and share a bed...

... and kiss me.

OKAY OKAY I KISSED HIM ALRIGHT??

but what about it? Jin apparently was saying this girl was a proper head-turner so he can cope

he cheated emotionally, when you think about it that's even worse

and now Emel is moaning Kyle's name

great.

this volume pissed me off. let see what this mess leads me to. gotta say, they keep me entertained

[theflyindutchwoman]

Lol, is eric winter forbidden of using # chenford now?

After hyping this ship so much, it seems like he wants to distance himself from it, lately. He only acknowledges his character alone in social media now.

He just posted a story of a fan that tattoed the DOD scene on helself and just used # bradford. Super weird for someone who is considered the "captain of the ship" lol.

I… I'm not sure how to answer this. As much as I don't mind speculating on the show, when it comes to the actors themselves, I try to avoid it as much as possible. And as I don't really follow them on social media, I probably missed some context - which will obviously color my answer. Especially since your ask is a bit old (and I'm sorry about the late reply). I think I still managed to catch the post you mentioned in time though.

To be honest, in the tattoo in question, Tim is the most visible character, so it doesn't strike me as entirely odd that Eric only tagged Bradford despite the fact that, yes, it was very much a Chenford moment. And considering the typo in one of his hashtag, he may have posted this in a hurry. I don't know if it's pattern lately, so I could be wrong, of course… but I seriously doubt he is being forbidden by anyone to post about Chenford.

This feels like a damned if you do and damned if you don't kind of situation. I think he simply wanted to acknowledge the tattoo. It doesn't need to be deeper than that :) But maybe you're right and he does want to distance himself from Chenford. There also could be many other reasons. Only Eric could answer that one. Whatever the case might be, that's his prerogative. As long as it doesn't impact his acting and his portrayal of Tim, it doesn't really matter to me. At the end of the day, he's engaging with the fans because it's fun and beneficial for him. The way I see it, he doesn't owe us anything. This is just a bonus. For what it's worth though, it's not the first time that this happens either… Last time, it was due to rude comments regarding his wife and marriage. Not sure if that's still happening...

And to be fair, just because Eric talks a lot about Chenford doesn't mean he always has to. He is allowed to talk about his character as well or the show in general. Let's be real, there are only so many questions you can answer before it gets too repetitive anyway. Or too spoilery for that matter ;)

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

I'm so not ready for Pit Babe to be over. This is one thing I love about BL, it's never the shows I expect that grab such a hold of my heart.

Oh my heart.

The way Babe's hands were shaking as he touched Charlie to make sure he was real...*sob*

Also, can we please stop giving this man head wounds?

Way to understate it Babe.

"I'm not happy" = "I was utterly devastated and incapable of functioning without you"

There we go! Time for the Kenta flip.

Being distracted from the plot by how good these two look together:

Also, I just realized Way is in white for what I think is the first time? Look at our boy getting all lightened up by being with Pete.

There's something about ultimate sunshine boy North calling Tony a dickhead that I can't stop laughing about.

Holy shit! I mean, I'm not surprised Tony killed kids, I had assumed the ones he deemed useless were sold off for their organs or something, but this is so blatant.

On the other hand, knowing what we know about the ultra-wealthy...yeah, this tracks.

Although I have to laugh a bit that the first video people will see is Tony just shoving a kid, and then it moves right along to straight up murder. Bit of an escalation there.

Dude, this is on the internet. You are way past containment!

Uh, yeah, great plan - kidnap another millionaire and a famous racing personality, I'm sure you'll have no problem staying under the radar.

I am so not normal about how North always puts himself between Sonic and danger.

Show, if you don't let these boys kiss... *growl*

Kim! My sexy baby! Coming in clutch!

Lol, alright I give Winner a few points for audacity.

Dammit, I knew Way was gonna get shot.

Also, what is it with all of the villains lately who are pulling the "just do what I want, and you will get what you want" move? It didn't work for Jareth, it's not going to work for any of you!!

Omg, Kenta!!

I have to give so much credit to Garfield, he has been acting his ass off these last few episodes.

Um, can we now stop focusing on sad faces and get Way some medical help?

Equally annoyed that they're doing the death via redemption, and distracted by how pretty Nut is during his dying scene.

Oh shit, showing Alan like this is what got me.

Well, this is just rude!

Though the fact that the funeral setup is just like Charlie's makes it feel oddly like Way is now off faking his death somewhere.

Poor Pavel, the man must have been so dehydrated after filming all this.

AlanJeff are such a balm for the soul.

And that tattoo is so sexy.

Damn, the faces these two make. I am weak.

Yay, our baby is fully where he belongs! Have fun Kim, surrounded by a big group of lovable idiots who will need your constant help.

Ah yes, can't finish this show without one more locker room railing.

Also, love that they keep getting more and more specific that Babe is, in fact, the one "taking it", for all those people who cannot see past stereotype.

Sweet.

Noooo, don't end. I need more fluff.

Ok, we for sure need a special episode, people.

We need:

SonicNorth kisses

Pete & Kenta closure (can be romantic or platonic, either way)

Kim to get a boyfriend

A bunch more group cuteness and shenanigans with zero trauma

[tkwrites]

Life is royally kicking my ass rn 🙃 any chance you are able to bless us with more initial or bts thoughts for some of your works?

I can list a couple to save you from having to figure out which ones you've already previously shared but don't feel you have to do all of them. Just mentioning a few to see if any spark something to you 🥰

Second nature, please, elimination, let the cleaners deal with it, before I meet your parents, first fight, love me gently, the second time is better, worth the wait, our heroes meet

Okay I think I just dead ass named all the snapshots you've not previously shared about 😂 I just can't pick favourites 😘

Hope you are doing well and can't wait to read whatever goodness you are currenly working on 🩷🩷

Hi Lovely, thank you for this sweet message!

I'm sorry life is so hard right now, and I'm so glad my little au can be an escape for you.

I'm so flattered that you want any behind the scenes tidbits at my fics, but to not have favorites? I'm blushing. ☺️

I'm doing well. Work is still a little nuts - I missed a meeting with a client today because I was training a new employee and lost track of time. 😬 So that's fun.

I've put the bts notes down below so I don't take over your feed.

[ ] Second Nature

Second Nature started with the vision of Quinn putting Sarah's bra back on. Specifically the idea of him threading the strap back on her shoulder. I knew Sarah had a tattoo on her rib cage and when I designed it in my head, I just had this vision of her needing him to see it, but not quite willing to bare all.

I wanted Quinn to be respectful and sweet about it - freaking out a little before realizing he could fix the issue at hand (i.e. wanting to comfort her, but her bra is undone) and doing so.

[ ] Please

I'm pretty sure the inspiration for this was an ovulation dream about Quinn begging. I was certainly ovulating when I started writing it, which is why it's a little more smutty than usual.

[ ] Elimination

This one started because Quinn looks so sad and distraught sometimes that I just want to hug him and remind him hockey isn't his whole life. I think in real life this would actually be pretty rude and dismissive, so I'm glad Sarah does it better.

[ ] Let the cleaners deal with it

This was totally inspired by the ask that came in about this idea. When I read the ask, I could vividly see Quinn waking up to Sarah trying to get blood out of the sheets with ice and paper towels and him, in his sleepy mind going, what the hell is going on?

[ ] Before I Meet Your Parents

This one was born from trying to write Sarah Meets the Parents (which finally started coming together when I wrote what is now the opening line of that fic). I kept getting so stuck on the idea that Sarah would have a hard time with the idea of meeting Quinns parents, and had to write it out. This idea that she doesn't know what she's feeling is something I experience quite often.

I was really, really nervous about including the sex scene in this one. I think it really flows when I read it back now, but at the time, I worried it might read like I was adding it in just for the sake of having smut, which wasn't true, but I worried.

[ ] First Fight

When I was writing Better, it felt a little incomplete. Not that the story was, but Quinn and Sarah's relationship felt a little incomplete somehow, and the angst of this fulfilled that, giving them a test they could pass.

I also wanted to explore more about how his past relationship messed with Quinn, which spurred from this line in Second Nature:

It had taken months to get that comfortable with his last girlfriend, June. She hadn’t been as into him as he’d been into her (and hadn't been afraid to wield that fact like a sword), so that had been most of the problem.

It morphed into wanting to show the contrast of a fight with June against a fight with Sarah. That they're very, very different because Sarah is very different than anyone he's previously dated.

[ ] Love Me Gently

This was really selfish on my part. I'm physically quite sensitive (well, I'm quite sensitive in all areas of my life, let's get real), and so really, Quinn in this is how I'd want my ideal partner to react.

I really wanted Sarah to express open, unashamed communication about her needs. It's part of that 'fuck that' attitude she's had since losing her mom. Like, I don't have time to suffer through you figuring out what I like when I could just tell you.

[ ] The Second Time is Better

This one actually started because of a blip from season 7 of Love Island UK. In it, one of the contestants and his partner have sex for the first time. After, he tells his friends something like, "not gonna lie, it was two strokes and done." And that just spurred off this whole thought process for me about how the first time with someone new usually isn't some mind blowing experience. You're still getting used to your new partner and it's highly likely it's not going to be phenomenal. I really liked that idea of Quinn being embarrassed and Sarah reassuring him she didn't expect all that much just by virtue of it being their first time. In many ways, this one kind of wrote itself. It flowed out in like 3 days or something.

[ ] Worth The Wait

Worth the wait started with the idea of them watching Star Wars since they bonded over it in Out Heroes Meet, but I needed it to be more than just a movie, so I put them in a cinema pub and let it go from there.

Originally, this fic idea didn't have the whole scene with Sarah watching hockey for the first time, but, I felt like we didn't know her well enough and I needed a transition from Quinn letting her know he was leaving to when she texts him about the movie. Once I started, it just kind of started flowing. Eunice is so wild in this fic, but I kind of love that about her.

[ ] Our Heroes Meet

This was totally based on the idea of fate. I've always loved the ocean and went to the aquarium on my vacation to Vancouver last summer, so it felt like a good starting place. I wanted Sarah to be really smart and educated, and it occurred to me that she could work at the aquarium and study something with the ocean. Then, I just had to get Quinn there with her. And what better way for lovers to meet-cute than because of a rain storm?

[9leaguesofmirrors]

Meet-(Not)-Cute (a Ross Gaines x Joseph Lisgoe fanfic)

I've realised that I've written a few fics where Lisgoe is the one battling with his feelings, but never really explored things from Ross' POV. Since I also haven't explored how these two actually met, I figured this was the perfect time to look into it! I also feel like my recent fics have been a bit heavy so I hope this one lightens the mood

And yes, I know these two are played by the same person and therefore would be the same height, but I know in my heart that Lisgoe's that little bit taller

Usually, Ross didn't get into debt. He kept a small book on his desk and it was enough to keep him in check. But he was human, despite his robotic tendancies, and that means he makes mistakes - not that he's ever want to admit such a fact. Long story short, things got busy at work and it caused him to fall a little behind. He was visited by two idiots, one short and fat, the other tall and twiggy, but they didn't stay long. After the fat one left crying, the twig followed suite and that was the end of it

Well, that was until he got another knock on the door which, since he was occupied with work he'd brought home, he ignored

"I know you're in there!" A voice shouted, accompanied by furious banging at the door "Open up, you bastard!"

Well, Ross thought that was rude

Soon, the thumping at the door proved to be relentless and Ross had no choice but to open it. Even if it was just for his own sanity

As soon as it was opened, Ross was greeted by the sight of a man that seemed to loom over him despite the height difference only being a few inches. He was a strange combination of rough and smart; he wore a black, fitted suit jacket (no collared shirt, like a plebian, just plain black), but in a way that suggested he cared little about looking tidy - buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was slicked right back, which just made his features look more angular

The first thought that crossed Ross' mind was he looks like the leader of a gang

Well, that was the first thought he let settle in his head. His actual first thought was quickly pushed out like a splash of water: at least this one isn't disgusting to look at

"Can I help you?"

"Are you Ross Gaines?"

Oh, you weren't putting that on, your voice really is that nasal

"You can fuck right off with those snarky comments and all!"

"I apologise, I didn't realise I'd said that out loud. What's this about?"

"This is about you not paying your debts on time." The man rested his hands on his hips, his teeth gritting together "And then you decided to get mouthy at the knobheads I work with."

"If this is about the way I treated your co-workers, then may I suggest you you find more competant people?"

That was clearly the wrong thing to say, because the man had taken two steps towards him. Suddenly, Ross caught a waft of his scent. There was a hint of cheap cologne and a lot of cigarette smoke, he clearly... hang on, is that... of course he has a tattoo. Yes, on the side of his neck was a black bird. As if I needed another reason to not want this man anywhere near me

"Nothing says vulgarity like a tattoo."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, dickhead!"

As soon as he said that, something clicked and Ross knew who this man was. He'd known him only by name and reputation, but this was the first time he'd seen him face-to-face

"Joseph Nigel Lisgoe."

"So you've heard of me," an arrogant smirk graced his face "that's good."

"I thought you'd be taller."

With great amusement, Ross watched as his smugness turned to annoyance. However, this was short-lived when he felt himself getting grabbed by his shirt and pulled towards Lisgoe

"If I wanted shite crack like that," he sneered "I'd lick a dog's asshole. I don't care about my subordinates, what I care about is the fact I needed to drag myself out of the house on what should be my day off. So where's my money?"

There was a moment of silence, which Lisgoe clearly wanted filled. He was showing no signs of relenting, Ross watched as his eyes dragged up and down his own frame with a stare that could only be described as steel. Cold, hard steel

For some reason, he could feel his stomach swirling, probably something I ate was his immediate thought

Suddenly, Ross felt his shirt being let go of, which resulted in him stumbling backwards slightly

"I have your money," came the calm reply "and I would've given it to you without all these dramatics. After all, this isn't a regular occurance, is it? I'm good with my debts and-"

"Well," Lisgoe interrupted with a sharp tone dripping with mockery "aren't you a good boy."

Ross wasn't proud of his immediate thought and buried it deep inside him. He just focused on the growing feeling in his stomach, but he just made a mental note to visit the nearest pharmacy as soon as this delinquent was out of his sight

"Are you expecting an invite inside?" He managed to maintain a level tone "Because I was in the middle of working."

"And I was in the middle of watching Dexter, but I'm stuck here talking to a rat in a wig!"

Once again, rude- hold on, did he say Dexter?

"I didn't strike you as a fan of Dexter."

"Funny, I knew a wannabe sociopath like you would enjoy it."

After a moment of consideration, Ross decided to take a chance

"If you're really irritated about missing your programme, you can catch up here. Since you're already here, as you eloquently put it, 'stuck here'."

"If you're trying to sweet-talk your way out of-"

"I'm doing no such thing. You'll get your money, but it's your day off. What's the rush?"

Lisgoe was clearly considering the pros and cons of taking up this offer. His gaze was directly on Ross, lazer-focused. Tense jaw. A slight bite on the corner of his lower lip

Before Ross could say anything, he was being barged past. Lisgoe had made his way through the door and into the living room, throwing off his jacket and throwing it onto the arm of the sofa before letting himself fall back next to it

"You could at least hang up your jacket." Ross followed, clearly unimpressed by his slovenliness "This isn't your house."

He watched as Lisgoe rolled his eyes and raised two fingers at him before leaning back, his arms on the backrest. Thanks to his short sleeves, his intricate tattoos were on display

"I hope they're not too vulgar." He said in that mocking tone when he noticed Ross looking "I'd hate to piss you off further."

Ross didn't even register the attitude, he was looking at the drawings that marked Lisgoe's arms. Tattoos really were ugly things, but the black-and-white that adorned his arms weren't the worst that Ross had seen

I need to get my stomach checked, it's spreading to my chest. Probably a virus. Speaking of viruses, if the one on my sofa doesn't stop slouching-

"Are you just planning on fucking standing there?"

That effectively snapped Ross out of his thoughts and he sat down beside Lisgoe, turning on the TV and turning on Dexter

Ross was thankful for the silence that followed, it gave him an opportunity to focus on something else and ignore the brash, cocky man beside him. Which was nice, because the constant swearing and general pissy attitude was too much. Not only was it testing Ross' patience, but it was making things complicated. Like the fact that the stench of cigarette smoke and abundance of tattoos, traits he usually despised, didn't seem so bad anymore. Or the fact that he let the most feared man in Royston Vasey into his house to watch Dexter. And the fact that said man was digging into his trouser pocket and- he's pulling out a cigarette box. Is he joking?

"Go outside."

"I was going to, Hindenberg!"

"You're going to get ash on my sofa, I paid good money for-"

"Jesus christ, I'm going!" Lisgoe got up and headed for the back door

"Outside."

"Oh yeah, let me just phase through the door! Fucking open it for me!"

Ross got up and let Lisgoe out, standing at the door as he went out and lit his cigarette

Dirty habit... he thought to himself as he watched him raise the cigarette to his mouth. For some reason, his eyes happened to hone in on the way Lisgoe's lips wrapped around the end of it. It was obvious he'd done it before, because he inhaled a lot of smoke without choking, he sucked on the cigarette before tilting his head back and blowing smoke into the air before looking at the cigarette with a satisfied look

Suddenly, Ross was very aware of the virus he seemed to have caught. His symptoms seemed to be everywhere; there was a fizzing in his stomach, his chest felt tight, and there was an odd, tingling feeling in his pelvis... wait...

No. Not happening

"Do you want my money or not?" He snapped, growing impatient

"I'm waiting for you to give it to me."

"It's inside."

"Then bring it outside, you stupid little man."

"I'm not that much shorter." Ross muttered as he went back inside to retrieve what he owed

The transaction was quick and, before he knew it, Lisgoe had one foot out the door

"I hope I never have to do this again."

"What? Collect my debt, slob on my sofa or get your cigarette ash everywhere?"

This was met with a glare as Lisgoe, once again, moved his hands to his hips

"Does acting like a smarmy jackass turn you on or something?"

"I don't know, does being an inconsiderate pest turn you on?"

"What turns me on is none of your fucking business."

"It's a good job I don't want to know."

Lisgoe's eyes darted down and up. Then his eyebrows raised slightly as a smug smirk graced his lips

"Right."

"You can leave now, Lisgoe."

"Might stay and piss you off more, bring some colour to your cheeks."

"Go on, shoo. Enjoy your day off." Ross did a dismissive motion with his hand "I want you as far away from me as possible."

Once again, Lisgoe's face was one of disbelief and he looked Ross up and down again

"What if I just stayed here?"

"I'm closing the door now."

As Ross started to shut the door, he was stopped by the slamming of a hand against the edge of it. Lisgoe had stopped the door and was now staring right at him. That's all, just staring. And he was moving closer, as if he was going to-

"Move, I need my jacket."

Wordlessly, Ross let him pass. Then he leaned against the doorframe and let out a frustrated sound. First he gets interrupted while he was working, then not an ounce of courtesy is shown to his living room, and then, to make matters worse, he was insulted every 5 minutes

His immediate thought was does this man have no shame?

Then his thoughts turned to the feelings in his stomach, but that was quickly discarded

"Don't say a word."

Ross turned and saw Lisgoe next to him, there was a buzzing in his pocket and an impatient look in his eyes

"Is that your-"

"I said shut up!"

"If this is a test, then-"

Lisgoe let out an annoyed huff and answered his phone

"Yes Hammonds... I can't, I'm on duty... yes, but those cun- um, Barry and Glenn needed me to deal with a tricky target... no, I haven't. We argued for a bit and now he's shut the door again." As if to add conviction, he slammed his fist against the door a few times and paused before talking again "See? This might take a while... of course I'm trying hard enough... fine, I will."

He hung up and turned to a very confused Ross

"My boss." He explained "He's an absolute wanker, worse than me and that's an achievement. I knew he'd want to see me and I'd rather walk on hot coals than deal with his shite. So I'm staying."

"You mean here? Or are you going home?"

Lisgoe's face crunched slightly, as if he was rendering whether or not he'd heard the question right. His right eye twitched slightly with confusion

"Home. Obviously. Why would I stay here?"

"We, well, you stopped watching halfway through an episode."

"So?"

"So I'm telling you that I hate leaving things unfinished."

"Finish it yourself." Lisgoe shrugged "That's not my problem."

Gaining a surge of confidence, Ross took a step to the side, as if inviting Lisgoe back inside

"It was just getting good, and I'd hate for you to miss it."

"Fucking hell, your head's wedged up your arse, isn't it?" Lisgoe's teeth gritted again "Fine. One episode."

One episode would turn into one season, and Ross would start falling behind on his debts a little more often - resulting in Lisgoe visiting more

And soon, Lisgoe would start coming round on his days off for reasons that had nothing to do with work. They'd move from Dexter, to the Final Destination films, then to Saw, until they no longer felt the need for such distractions

Months later, they'd no longer see the point in living seperately. Which means, eventually, they would know each other better than anyone else. They'd see each other at their lowest, their highest, worst and best, things nobody else was allowed to see

And then, suddenly, they'd eventually realise that they'd found someone that made all of Royston Vasey's bullshit worth living through

But right now, neither of them knew that, so Ross simply said:

"One episode it is."

[the-flower32]

Monsttober week 2: Angel

The Farm of Spencer Spector; Remembrance and Realizations

It was a crisp autumn day in Ashwood, the graveyard was quite save for two visitors. One was an older woman named Spencer Spector, the other was younger and named Mic.

“Man… this place is way cleaner than the one in my home town.” Mic said as he looked at the headstones they passed.

“Oh thats sad.” Spencer said over her shoulder, a bouquet of Violets and Lilacs in her hand.

“Oh- I don't mean trash- it was just over grown in a lot of places. There was even a club in highschool that petitioned to get it ‘spruced up’.” 

“And how’d that go?”

“Not that well until one of them offered to buy pizza for the class who had the most signatures, she was only able to do so because her dad owned the local jewelry shop.”

Spencer chuckled.

“Food is a big motivator, especially sweets.”

“I know right.” 

The two approached a headstone with an angel carved into it, Spencer stopped in front of it, Mic off to the side. Mic read the name on the headstone.

‘Amissa Spector, Loving wife’

“I wonder who they were.” Mic thought as Spencer placed the flowers and crossed her arms against the wind. 

They wanted to ask, but hesitated. 

“No, it’d be rude.” they told themselves, so they fidgeted with their necklace. 

Mean while Spencer glanced over at them, she was old enough to recognize curiosity when she saw it, and smiled.

“Thanks for driving me out here, I really need to get fitted for glasses.” she started, Mic jumped.

“Uh… no problem.” they said. 

A moment of silence went by.

“You can ask if you want,” Spencer said, seeing Mic’s surprised face she added, “I know most people don't like talking about those the’ve lost but, I like talking about her.”

Mic glanced towards the angel on headstone.

“Ok…who was she?”

Spencers face got a reflective look on it,

“She was my best friend. We got married in a courthouse- we couldn't afford wedding dresses so we just stole our prom dresses…. Neither of our parents agreed to it.” 

Mic watched the old womans face as she paused for a moment, Mic was unsure if she was fighting tears or just trying to remember.

“In fact she had to steal this ring from her mother’s jewelry box, the only guests we had were our friends who stuck with us from highschool.” Spencer giggled fondly, “and her uncle. He owned a tattoo shop and had basically been disowned by his family- except for her. He sat at the back of the hall to make sure our parents wouldn't run in an object. He also gave us the van we lived out of for nine months.”

Spencer looked up at the cloud covered sky as she reminisce,

“We were finally able to buy the farm I live on now, we had no idea it was such a supernatural hot spot of course. The first time we met anyone was during winter, and she greeted them with a shotgun. It was Maple’s older brother.”

“Mark?”

“Yep.”

“Was he in human form?”

“Nope, but he changed back the minute he saw the gun.” Spencer laughed.

“I bet that conversation was awkward at all.” Mic smiled, remembering when they met Maple and Mark, and his surprise when he learned more than just werewolves exist. 

Spencer ran her thumb over her wedding ring, “She was loud and brave, and would fight till the end of time if she could. You should have heard what she said to my parents when I introduced her and they freaked out. She almost punched my dad!”

“We’ll he sounded like a jerk, so I don't blame her.”

Spencer laughed.

“you’d of gotten along with her. Though- she’d probably try to talk you into a less heavy eyeliner look.”

“Yeah- that wouldn't of worked.” Mic smiled down at the headstone. Then he frowned, and started picked at a loose thread in their fingerless gloves. “… sorry you two had to live in such a crappy time.”

Spencer looked at them.

“And with such crappy families too. Neither of you deserve that.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow and smiled,

“Actually… after my dad died my mom came and found me.” she started, “she came to apologize, said she didn't want to die angry like my dad did. She’s not burred here- though- she’s with my dad.”

Mic couldn't help their expression from becoming disgruntled as Spencer talked, so they turned away. 

“I remember, when she was in the hospital, she said she’d tell my dad how wrong they were once she died. I wonder if they’ve moved on yet.”

“Heh, im glad she could get over her prejudices…” Mic mumbled, not knowing they were loud enough for Spencer to hear them. “some peoples families cant.”

Spencer looked sympathetically at him, then smiled. 

“Oh- she may have been my mom but she wasnt my family,” spencer said, Mic looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “not till after she apologized anyways.” 

“You know the phrase ‘blood is thicker than water’? It actually started as ‘the blood of the covent is thicker than the water of the womb’, which narrows down to the fact that the family that cares about you is the one that matters, sure- your biological one made you, but the one you make yourself can be just as important.”

Mic looked off to the side as he thought about what she had said. Then smiled. 

Spencer rubbed and blew on her hands, 

“we should get back to the farm before it gets colder, feel like stopping by the donut shop on the way back and getting a tea or coffee?”

Mic nodded, “If they have hot chocolate, then sure.” 

Week 1

[the-grim-and-sanguine]

WIP: Foray

Writing -  Character Intros - Other Stuff

Summary/Blurb: Tamril has always been a little bit alone. A shadow, sort of following whoever will protect him around, he eventually manages to find himself in the McLeod’s home, or rather, mansion. It’s a veritable center of politics, business, and drama, and his two saviors, Cyan and Carter, are right in the middle of it all. Can Tamril navigate this strange new world, step out of the shadows, and find himself amidst the chaos? 

Genre: NA Science Fantasy? 

Themes: Found Family, Self Discovery, Interpersonal Connection, Politics

Status: Blurbs. 

Tags: #wip: foray

Content Warnings and Character Info under the cut!

Content Warnings (CW): 

I would like to start off by stating I felt these were very important things to CW since these are all very real things that happened/still happen but I am not very knowledgeable about some of these topics so I apologize for my ignorance! As a bipoc person who is very white-passing and was shielded from these things by my white mother, I apologize if I handle any of these topics poorly. I am very open to any feedback so please don’t hesitate to reach out!

Racism, mentions of slavery, and something slavery-esque? This world has two main races - humans and demons. And just like our world, holds a lot of racism. Specifically towards the demons. While slavery isn’t legal in a majority of the locations in Foray, it will be mentioned. This world also deals with Charges (a person or thing entrusted to the care of someone else) and in the context of Foray - is Humans taking on Demon charges. Those who take on charges namely do it to protect demons they are close to but unfortunately, there are those who abuse the system.

Tattoos that could be seen as branding? This world is one of magic - and uses tattoos as a way to form/show bonds. The people in this world use them to show relationships - whether that be who you are related to, who you are married to, who you are close to (found family) or in the case of why this is a CW - Humans and Demons getting matching tattoos to show whose charge you are. I would like to state though that both parties are getting these tattoos and that there are laws (though people do find loopholes) around the age of consent and that both parties need to agree to getting them.

Something akin to sun-down towns? So. They are sun-down towns. In less populated areas some of the towns refuse to service/help/house demons. They aren’t mentioned often after the first few chapters - but they do exist in this world. 

Less jarring CWs: fantasy violence, mention of sex/sexual themes, suicidality, alcohol, PTSD and related symptoms, etc…(more will probably be added)

The Characters (this one has so many I apologize): 

Tamril Dawnstar - Our unfortunate MC who just wants a nap. A 16-year-old kid *cough* demon *cough* whose been tossed around from caretaker to caretaker cause his sister is off doing who-knows-what and he eventually fell into the care of the McLeod brothers. 

Cyan McLeod - Oldest of the main group, at the ripe old age of 26. Depressed alcoholic who is a bit (very) eccentric - and also the heir to a multi-billion dollar company? Or at least the equivalent of that in this world. 

Aaron Tyr - The 19-year-old half-demon under Cyan’s care. Used to be a prostitute until he tried to seduce Cyan and Cyan was just like “You are wayyyy too young - but I can offer you something more stable?”. 

Carter Klassen/McLeod - 20-year-old adoptive sibling to Cyan. Comes across as rude but it’s cause he’s an awkward fuck who has zero social skills (Has he been with the McLeod’s since he was 7? Yes. Has he learned anything? No)

Cecelia “Cici” - Previous caretaker to Tamril, but currently lives in this world’s equivalent of a sun-down town (she doesn’t like it, but she’s a traveling apothecary and this town needed help). Pops in often to check up on Tamril (no one knows how seeing as she lives days away - maybe it has to do with the fact she’s demon-touched?). 24 years old. Has vitiligo. 

Iva - Cici’s lifelong partner! She tends to be the type to overwork herself helping whatever town she and Cici live in. Doesn’t talk much, mostly because she’s just very tired. 25 years old. 

Vidalia “Prince” DeStone - Royalty–a demon-touched enby who is paralyzed from the waist down. They work to advocate for demons and those touched by them, and don’t take anyone’s shit. Especially not Cyan’s. 23 years old.

Vu - Prince’s personal guard and lifelong partner. She is from a demonic race similar to orcs, making her larger in stature and very strong. 23 years old.

Serrure - A blind man who can see visions of the future. He comes from an island of people like him, but as it is, he’s isolated. He is devoted to Mina, for better or worse (mostly worse). 22 years old.

Mina - A woman with no care for others, actively enjoying causing chaos and ruin in the lives of others. Cyan is her favorite target. 25 years old.

Sterling McLeod - Cyan’s, and by extension, Carter’s, cousin. He was supposed to be the heir, but decided to follow his passion for medicine and become a doctor instead. He works within the McLeod estate. 27 years old.

Lakita Wafalls - Cyan’s ex-fiancee who never got over the breakup. Currently, she also wants to ruin Cyan in a desperate bid for attention. 25 years old.

Taglist: @planets-and-prose @the-down-upside-finch

Please ask to be added or removed!

[revoleotion]

Can you tell me more about Dawn?

I CAN ALWAYS TELL YOU MORE ABOUT DAWN

(vibrating intensely) pls send more asks if there's anything specific you want to know but...

some basics? Did I ever do this on this blog?

first off, there are two "versions" of Dawn, the original way I wrote him and am playing him in the Pen and Paper... and the version I did for playing him in bg3, lovingly dubbed DNDawn by my DM.

A few facts about OG!Dawn:

he's a Chiss sky-walker who retired (read: lost his connection to the Force) at 17, which is pretty late for a Chiss but still pretty traumatizing. He spent the months leading up to retirement trying to stop the loss of his Sight or at least trying to find a way to be useful in other ways, but he still had to leave eventually

right before that, he met the human sent to the chiss ascendancy (Eli Vanto), which inspired a conversation about a life outside of the ascendancy. Vibes wise, I was going for a parallel of that conversation between Thrawn and Thalias in Chaos Rising!

anyway, Dawn didn't leave immediately after retiring, though. He went to an academy for a few years, where he had a roommate that he suspects might have been a sky-walker too but they never actually talked about it. Her fate is uncertain too but she probably died shortly before graduation. Dawn actually got a degree from that academy, which he never mentions and does not care about in the slightest

once he had his degree, he got a tattoo done (on his back, a star constellation only seen from Csilla), chose the new name Dawn so that lesser space inhabitants can properly address him, and fucked off to meet an Imperial contact Eli gave him

it turned out pretty quickly that Dawn was not Empire material, and he didn't care for it either, but this information is important because it shows that his first contact with the Empire was neutral (+ knowing that Thrawn ended up working with them also helped shape Dawn's opinion of that regime). This opinion changed later, of course, but it's important that he didn't immediately hate the Empire or distrust its members

and this is how he eventually ended up with the torment crew! yey! and that's when the campaign started and....... well. shit happened.

he's also trans (most, if not all, sky-walkers are girls, but he never really vibed with that) and very, very gay.

dawn gets to use a mechanic that i lovingly refer to as the "autism dice" where sometimes my DM makes me roll in conversations with other crew members to see if dawn notices the deeper meaning/sarcasm in other character's words (most of the time I didn't notice it either, and if I fail, he's not explaining it to me either, Dawn & I just have to live with it. rude (jk jk, I agreed to this))

my favorite thing about Dawn is how he views himself as a tool but sometimes (very, VERY rarely, and ESPECIALLY when he's tired/not thinking straight) slips into this mindset of "excuse me, do you know who you are talking to??". no matter how alienated he feels from other chiss, he is one, and maybe those legends about chiss not reacting well to being betrayed are true after all.

since sky-walkers get their memory purged to avoid any unnecessary feelings/homesickness, Dawn does not remember his childhood or family. It also means he has no idea of his original family name. He has a twin sister but will very likely never learn that or meet her. After his service as a sky-walker, he got adopted into the Irizi family, hence his name.

Dawn has very strong feelings about being compared to Thrawn, mostly about the fact that he's a Mitth and how dare people compare him to a Mitth??

the thing I struggled with the most when creating him and playing him in early sessions was his moral alignment. He was pretty much a blank slate, due to the memory purging and being used as a military child weapon most of his life... so this didn't make it any easier. By now, I have his alignment and loyals figured out though! It's more complex than I first expected, and the fun bit is that he is now very torn between wanting to do what's best for the crew and the connection he's feeling towards the guy speaking to him through the sith holocron, mostly because he is grysk (and therefore, from the same region as Dawn AND his mortal enemy but you know what, we can excuse that as long as we get homoeroticism and narrative foils)

dawnkallig. my beloved. i should write another essay on my pnp side blog

ANYWAY this got long. Tell me if I should talk more about the DNDawn version (who shows up in my bg3 fanfics)...... or if you have any more random questions about my boy!

[theluxuriansecret]

Diary Entry 6.18.2024

Dear Diary,

I haven't felt this consistently anxious in a really long time. It is really starting to get to me. I had my phone on DND all day and cried when I got home. I know that the answers lay within me, I just have to dig them out. I hate that I don't take the time to write (or type) as much as I used to, and I need to start getting back to my routine. I swear I say that every week and yet there is something about life that does not help me stick to it. I understand that life throws you curve balls sometimes, but I feel like.. why cant I dodge any of them? Why must I fall off every single time? I am starting to grow frustrated with myself because I feel as though there are too many outside factors starting to effect me. I try to let the emotions flow through me, but then it becomes everything at once and I can't handle it.

To begin, my moms misery is truly starting to rub off on me I feel. On Sunday, it was fathers day, my grandma didn't feel too well so we all went to dinner as 4, it has been a really long time since we did that. For the most part, I think dinner went really well. We were all laughing, making jokes, even my brother was participating. Until my mom brought up the fact that she's the one thats been cleaning out the fridge, they got a little loud about it, but my dad ultimately thanked her for cleaning out the fridge on his day. It was true, my dad was not holding up his end of the chores so naturally it fell onto my mom. I can completely understand her frustrations, but sometimes I wish she could put her misery aside for the rest of her family. That seems like such a selfish thing to wish for, but for a moment it felt like we were normal again, until she made it incredibly clear that we weren't. The food was really good though.

Moving on, but similar topic, my mother and I have really been butting heads. I just feel like some space would be really nice. I wish I had my own space, I wish I could just have the people I wanted over with out a three day notice. I wish that I didn't have to tell her every detail of every part of my plans. I appreciate her being such an incredible parent, I appreciate the fact that she is very attentive in my life and knows my friends names, and what they mean to me etc, but sometimes it just becomes too much. DO NOT get me wrong, I love that both of my parents are alive and I am grateful, but I cannot help but think about how I am trapped in these four wells, shrinking. In this house I feel small and helpless.

One of my friendships I truly feel is on the fence. Yesterday, my 4 friends and I went to dinner and one of them (one that I share a tattoo with) made a face at our other friend (who we also share the tattoo with) because I laughed a little loud. I have a really loud laugh, it's true, and it may have been right in her ear, but not on purpose. But I just felt like making fun of me right in front of me was truly rude, and I feel like this is the same thing I've dealt with in the past. I feel like she likes me, but she also doesn't like me. I think she enjoys my company, but also just doesn't like me. I don't know what that means. She has made sly comments, and faces and other uncomfortable remarks before, but I always decided to let it slide because they were moments where I wanted to just keep the peace and enjoy my night, but right now I do not feel peace, I feel very far from it actually, and I hate that. I've decided I am not going to be as present in her life as I want right now, not a full removal, but a full step back. I've done way too much for that girl or her to treat me as she does, it's just not right.

Lastly - I love my boyfriend, things are gong well on paper, but something feels off. I asked him if we were in good standing and he said yes, he also emphasized how our relationship was good in a situation that happened in his own life. I can't help but wonder why he hasn't told me he loves me without me saying it first in a week. I don't want to assume anything, or put anything negative out there. but I swear it started a week ago. And i know he has been going through things on his own so I try to give not only myself grace, but him as well. I also try to remind myself that no matter happens outside of me, it is not a reflection of me. I have enjoyed the experience thus far, and just like anything else in this life, it is an experience. I am grateful to experience all that I have in the years I have spent on this earth, and I will continue to the years count on.

no tags today, xoxo

[vanilladaises-rp]

Tattoo-Artist! Jungkook-🖕🏻:

"I'm a digital artist for a gaming company that focuses on hidden objects and puzzle games. I also paint in my free time, but only paint by numbers as I can't be bothered coming up with stuff myself if it's not work related.", I replied to his first question, looking over at his attractive smile as he teased me a little bit over the design. "Hey, I didn't do a lot of changes except for the shading after you showed me how to do it. I won't give you credit for that, you don't deserve it.", I rebutted with a small chuckle behind my hand and a slight roll of my eyes. Him thinking that I'm not like one of the girls is insulting me, if I knew about it. I didn't hear much about his private life, except for the fact that I researched my artists carefully and his shop was online really well-renowned, and the type that I would most likely avoid getting involved in are those of criminals and drug dealers. Him calling himself a bad boy would put him in that category and not the type of man you see in movie tropes. That first stab against my skin made me grip my stressball tightly, it sent me a small fright as it was unexpected. Then I looked over at how well he's doing his job. "You're really good at this. It looks already as if it's alive on my skin.", I complimented him, forgetting about my pain as I groaned here and there when he hits a bone. I did however, requested a little break, in my mind. I needed to use the bathroom and it would be so rude if I just got up while he's starting to shade the flowers now. With his part of the flower that he wants to shade it in, it's a surprise. I didn't want to look at it until it was over to show off my cute reaction afterwards.

"I'll admit, that's cool" He said smugly, feeling your eye on him as he worked the ink into your skin. "I originally wanted to do that as well, game desigin" He explained, "But somewhere things just changed I suppose" By changed he means dropping out of college, which not a lot of people knew about but it was useless information, according to Jungkook at least, "I like this better though, and it seems like you agree" The artist chuckles as you complimented him on his work even though he just started. When the needles went over your bones, he knew it would hurt and was expecting a shriek as most people let out, no matter how tough looking they may be, but to his surprise you only winced quietly, not that it mattered but it was impressive to see how it had little to no effect on you. When you asked for a break he nodded, "Giving in so soon?" He teased putting the gun down and helping you up, "I'll be here, don't take forever please" He sighed.

[estrangedgigglesx3]

𝙰𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚜/𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚜/𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚜

Warnings: some suggestive bits but nothing too bad!|pairings: sevika x reader, vander x reader, vi x reader, jinx x reader, jayce x reader, viktor x reader, mel x reader, Caitlyn x reader|proofread: no <3| authors note: bare with me I am VERY tired :,)

Vander:

TATTOOS

- wouldn’t think anything of it at first

- A lot of people came into the last drop with some type of body modification, so he never really thought of it

- BUT-

- That being said, he still found them interesting.

- He’d always ask what some of them meant to you, if they had a meaning behind them or not

- I imagine he does have a bit of tattoo knowledge from the past

- So if you were to get a new tattoo he’d always take care of it for you

- Even if you didn’t ask, he’d still ask you if you needed any help with wrapping it up

- Which is nice, especially with back tattoos

BODY MODS/PIERCINGS:

- ok, body mods are a bit of a different story

- Tattoos are a big sign of how tough you are, but body mods..

- Let’s just say, he finds it hot

- And he finds you 100x more tougher

- Because either something punctured your skin for a piercing or you got her tongue cut in half (those type of ppl are so h o t)

- Just more reasons he loves you

- But if you got a new piercing, he doesn’t know anything about keeping those clean

- So he’ll just sit off to the side, watching how it’s done

- Like, he’s standing outside your shared bathroom while watching you clean your piercing.

- Will never get one

- Even if you ask nicely

- He’s tough in his own ways, so he’s not worried about seeming tougher

vi:

TATTOOS

- she definitely finds them attractive

- Since she grew up in zaun and prison, she saw tattoos often, but they always corresponded with that persons role with something

- But your tattoos were different

- They had a personal reason behind them or you just got them because you wanted too

- Whenever you two are cuddling, she always draws over your tattoos with her fingers

- Also enjoys it when you draw over her tattoos with your fingers

- Most down to get matching tattoos

- She loves the fact you and her have something on her that reminds her of you

BODY MODS

- oh. My. God.

- She freaks out

- Out of being excited

- Whenever she sees your piercings or other type of body mods, she’s always in awe

- ESPECIALLY with a split tong

- She’d ask tons of questions

- “Did it hurt??” “What’d you eat while it was healing??”

- That type of stuff

- Always wants to know more about you because she loves you <3

Jinx:

TATTOOS

- she grew up surrounded by people with tattoos and never thought of any of it

- That being said,,

- She falls in love all over again

- “You’re even more beautiful than before toots ;)”

- She’d show you off to people you two meet

- “This is (reader), aren’t they beautiful?? :)”

- They answer yes out of f e a r

- She’d always draw on free spaces on your arms and always gets so excited when you get it tattooed on you

BODY MODS

- almost the exact same as the tattoos

- She’d get VERY excited

- Somehow keyboard smashes irl which is very confusing

- “YOUR SO HOT TOOTS!!”

- She’s your hype woman

- Sometimes makes you new piercings for you to wear

- When she’s sitting in your lap at her desk she’d always cup your face in her hands and kiss your piercings

- Every. Single. One.

Sevika:

TATTOOS

- when she first saw you, she immediately found you hot

- One thing led to another you two were playing poker while one another while she asked about your tats

- Never crosses any boundaries

- She’s mean but not rude

- Of course you two ended up together after a few months

- By now she knows most of your tattoos from head to toe

- Just looking at you she feels proud

- Loves you with all her heart

BODY MODS

- much like the tattoos, she finds you hot immediately

- You somehow convince her to get a bridge piercing

- Which you found VERY hot

- If you have a split tongue, she’d always somehow end up staring at it while smoking a cigar when she first noticed, listening to you rant about something that happened.

- “Are you listening?” She wasn’t

- “What’s that in your mouth?”

- Which led to you sticking your tongue out to show her, which got her all flustered

- “That’s fucking sick” she loves it.

- All in all, finds YOU hot

Caitlyn:

TATTOOS

- the first time she saw you, she was s t u n n e d

- Like, damn, did those hurt?

- She finds it kinda hot ngl..

- Ok she finds it REALLY hot

- But she can’t let you know that

- So she hides her simping by asking a TON of questions

- “Why’d you get them? Did they hurt? Who did them? Did you make the drawing of it? How long did it take?”

- H o u r s of her questions

- Eventually confesses she finds them attractive and you two ended up cuddling together while she admired your tattoos up close

BODY MODS

- honestly, she didn’t understand them at first

- When she saw your piercings she couldn’t help but ask you why

- When you told her the reasoning, she understood

- Much like the tattoos, she admired them whenever you two cuddled

- She would spend A TON of money just to buy you some new piercings

- Just knowing that your wearing something she bought brings butterflies to her stomach

- Gets flustered when she sees your split tongue if you have one

- Like, how could she never notice??

- Asks you if you struggle to eat food or drink

- Which you answer honestly

- Often wonders what it would feel against hers-

Viktor:

TATTOOS

- He honestly never saw them before

- Only when he saw the glow of a some type of neon light against your skin did he see them

- He’s obviously got a ton of questions but knows how annoying that can get so he just keeps it to one or two questions at a time

- Makes a cute little nickname for you like “ink pen”

- Loves the idea of looking at tattoos, hates getting them

- So he never does, but he’s always there for you for moral support

- Sometimes

- Secretly he dislikes watching the tattoo pen prick at your skin

- He’s just worried for you 🥺

BODY MODS

- same as tattoos, curious but won’t bombard you with questions

- Whenever he sees your piercings he’s always tempted to touch them

- Doesn’t though, because he respect your boundaries

- Makes sure nothing magnetic that can hurt you is in the room

- If you’ve ever asked if he could help clean your piercing out, he gets nervous instantly

- Suggests it might not be a good idea, but you persisted

- Accidentally got the cleaning solution in your eye

- Never should’ve doubted him

Jayce:

- oh boy

- Another story

- He gets VERY curious about your tattoos

- BOMBARDS you with questions, much like cait

- Once he realizes you had kinda gotten annoyed, he backed off immediately

- Still asked a few questions here and there but never went too fair

- “How many do you have?”

- Whenever he’s stressed out he’d immediately go to you and ask if he cuddle

- Which you do of course and he runs his fingers over the tattoos as he told you what stressed him out so much

- Feels 100% better

BODY MODS

- once he sees your piercings, he’s asking questions again

- “How many do you have?”

- “A few”

- He loves them and you sm

- He’d always get distracted staring at them, wondering how he was so lucky

- If you have a split tongue and he spotted it, he’d be slightly grossed out

- Only because he’s imagining the healing process

- But he does find the split tongue kinda hot-

- Like cait he imagines what it’d feel like against his 👀

- He just loves you all together 🥺

Mel:

TATTOOS

- You covered them up mostly whenever you were around her

- But one day she caught you in a tank top and your tattoos on full view for e v e r y o n e

- She’d confront you and ask why she’s never seen them

- You honestly just thought she’d find them unprofessional and break up

- She doesn’t

- Actually would like to paint your tattoos on a canvas, like a reminder of you

- Which you do, that is why your sitting infront of her and her canvas in a bra so she can get a full view of your tattoos

- Finds them VERY attractive

- She’d always rub her hand delicately over them while you two relaxed in her bed after a long day

BODY MODS

- When she first saw your piercings, she was impressed

- She’s probably got a piercing somewhere hidden (👀)

- So she doesn’t judge

- She’s 100% down to help you clean your piercings

- Makes it a whole thing

- Would also run a bath for the two of you

- Light a candle or two

- ONLY THE BEST FOR HER BELOVED 😩

- Just imagine, she’s holding your face in her hands while sitting in in your lap, cleaning your piercings and face after a long day of work

- She loves the feeling of your face in her hands, holding you as she admired your features.