#longer than chin length what are we cutting hair for

[pcktknife]

Yo! Do you use HoYoLAB, that social media app hoyoverse made? It is FOUL on there

hoyolab hurts the brain to be on for too long

[januaryembrs]

WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME? | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [10]

description: the one with Cat Adams + the one where she tells him.

length: 13k

warnings: literally just watch 11x11, mention of vomit, blood, alcoholism. mention of pregnant wives??

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‘who’s afraid of little old me?

you should be,’

She remembered when she was little when she would wake up so early even the birds hadn’t uttered a morning chirp, her stomach grumbling because she usually hated the fancy stuff they had for dinner and ended up leaving it on her plate. She remembered thinking her mother would be no use, that Elizabeth would tell her to go straight back to bed, even if she whined and cried that she wanted breakfast, remembered thinking Louise, the au pair that usually took the morning shift, wouldn’t be in for another hour or so, and she certainly wasn’t tall enough to reach the cabinets yet. 

Which left her with Emily. 

Nineteen year old Emily, who was already in and out of the house with college, her hair a box dyed black, singed from all the crimping and hair spray. Emily, who liked to take her to the park even if she pretended she was too old, who played Barbies with her and helped her cut all their hair off probably because she figured that was better than her constant urge to do whacky things with her own locks. Emily, who had never wanted a little sister really until Elizabeth had brought home the carrier and suddenly she had never loved ten chubby fingers and toes so much.

She remembered waking Emily up, usually by pulling herself up onto her sister’s Mötley Crüe themed bedding and prodding at the girl’s shoulder until she stirred, how Emily would lead her down the long, ornate hallway into the kitchen, when the only sound in the house would be their bare feet padding along the cold tiles. How Emily would yank two bowls out of the cupboard, tipping a generous dose of coco pops in each of them, back when they were full of sugar and real chocolate, not the healthy crap they sold nowadays. 

It would just be the two of them at the breakfast table, crunching on their spoons, five year old Bugsy no doubt dribbling the brown milk down her chin and pyjama top, but she was happy. Because she had her big sister.

She stared down at the dregs of cocoa that whirled into the white milk as the cereal sat there longer, because she was only picking at it really, and it had nothing to do with the fact she was almost certain they had changed the recipe since she was little. 

“I was thinking,” She said after a moment or so, while Spencer pottered around the kitchen, fixing them both a pot of coffee that she usually was usually bouncing over to grab at this point in the morning. Except today she felt sluggish, lost in that maze of thoughts that only Spencer could really unpick, and the second she’d started speaking his head whipped over the counter to where she idly stirred her breakfast, “About what you said when Gideon… We could probably afford to start looking at buying a house soon, what with the mortgage rates dropping,” 

She looked up at him hopefully, hoping he couldn’t sense the hesitation on her breath because he usually knew what she was thinking before she said anything, and for once she wished he didn’t have that crazy ability to read her mind, only to see him with a small if not saddened smile. 

When Gideon had passed, Spencer had gotten in his head that they needed to leave the apartment, that if the Jason Gideon could have been caught unaware, then they weren’t safe either. Of course he hadn’t meant it, at least not entirely, but Gideon passing had spun the logic half of his brain that spouted the statistics that they were no more in danger now than they were before he’d gone, but still it was something he’d been thinking about. A house meant more space; more space meant they could stop tripping over each other's laundry, meant they could get the bigger shower they’d always talked about, maybe even a tub. A house meant the garden he knew he always wanted Niko and Sergio to have now they were grey around the whiskers and couldn’t run so fast. 

“I think that’s a great idea,” Spencer said, picking up their mugs of steaming hot goodness and carefully stepping towards her, gently sliding the drink over to her as the liquid sloshed and threatened to dip over the edge, “Is there any place you want to look?” 

He left his own mug in favour of circling his arms around her shoulders and pulling her in for a soft hug, her head falling beneath his chin where she sat on the barstool. 

Kissing her hairline gently, she heard him inhale her shampoo scent, and she plonked her spoon back in the bowl to wrap her arms around his waist, squeezing herself into every crevice that they weren’t already touching. 

“I don’t care,” She said, tilting her head to look up at him with love sick eyes, only to see him already besottedly gazing at her, and she guessed by the way his lips draw up at the corners that he didn’t realise he was still smiling, “Anywhere with you is good enough for me,” 

He looked down at her in that way he usually did, expression soft and sweet and entranced, but she saw the traces of worry in his gaze, “You feeling okay? Today is going to be… hard,” 

Bugsy’s expression faltered slightly, and she turned away to push her face into his stomach so he wouldn’t see the doubt lingering in her eyes. She nodded anyway, even though she knew he would catch her in the lie.

After Scratch, Hotch had ordered her to take three months off for a psych evaluation, had granted Spencer at least a month of holiday to watch over her because he knew Reid’s head would be all over the place with worry if he’d returned to work without her. It was like asking Garcia to leave her computers and fluffy pens at home; it just wouldn’t work. 

By the time she was cleared to come back, despite the recurring nightmares of that day still eating away at her sleep, Hotch had set her up to work solely from the office, strictly no field work.

He liked to think it was for her own safety, for her own good since he saw the way she pounded coffee like it was juice while Spencer lingered around her with a worried stare. But if he had to be honest with himself, Hotch couldn’t get away from the things Scratch had made him see just as much as she couldn’t. He couldn’t escape seeing her throat slit like she was a lamb for slaughter, the life leaving her eyes as she faded away. And it was the thought of her carotid artery spraying over his boots that made him want to lock her up in bubble wrap and never let her go. 

But that was feasible in their job, not really. So desk duty it was. 

“You don’t have to go with us into the field, you can always stay with Hotch and Garcia,” He offered, stroking her hair behind her ear and tempting her to look back up at him with gentle fingertips under her chin, and when she saw the unease in the muddy hues, she squeezed him tighter, knowing the past five months had been just as hard on him. 

“No, I want to,” She protested gently, her hands weaselling under his shirt and onto the warm, soft skin of his back, pawing at him like a cat trying to settle. “If you’re being made this woman’s number one target, I want to be there on stand by,” 

And he couldn’t really argue. Because no matter what frame of mind he was in, even if it had been him captured and tortured, he would never let her go out as bait and not be there breathing down her neck. 

He sighed, the urge to protest stuck in his throat and all he could think to do was bring his lips to hers gently in a soft kiss, because his resistance to her being put in the line of danger would only be futile. 

She hummed into the kiss, his hands skirting over her back and she swore she would be content if the rest of her life was spent in Spencer’s arms, in the warm mornings at their kitchen table just the two of them, and the idea of that last part spun her stomach into turmoil all over again. 

What if he freaked out? No, scratch that, he was definitely going to freak out. Spencer hated change, hated having things dropped on him, and Diana was already getting worse with the symptoms of Alzheimers she had begun presenting. He had more than enough on his plate as it was, and she knew she was the only thing that could keep his head from exploding with the worry, even if she was sometimes the cause of it. He’s always been a worrier, and part of her despised herself for the fact that he had shot out of bed every single night she’d been in the midst of a night terror, when the room spun and Peter Lewis seemed so real and so close and she woke up screaming. Because she’d brought him enough stress and trouble, and now she had an extra helping of it dished up and ready. 

It wasn’t one of those things she could keep to herself, not even if she so desperately wanted to sit on it and mull it over for a few months. She needed to tell him soon. 

Spencer looked down at her eyes, the way they’d glazed over slightly, and he wished he could crawl into the space where her thoughts bounced between one another if it meant he could figure out what had gotten her so twisted up the past few weeks. She hadn’t been herself entirely since Scratch, but she had been getting better. She’d started getting more sleep, seemed less jumpy when they were in the quiet of their apartment, and part of him thought maybe that was why she wanted to look at houses. A fresh start. And yet overnight, she’d had this guilty look in her eye like she was suddenly a million miles away, and he hated it. Bugsy had never been distant, which seemed odd to think considering she was burying her hands and face into him like she had no intention of letting him leave. But there was something in the depths of her brilliantly big mind that seemed to hold her tongue for her.

He kissed her again, hoping it was all in his head, hoping she wouldn’t keep things from him because it was them and they always told each other everything. Even if it was gross and weird and inappropriate, everything. 

And he thought maybe it was because he was going on a date with another woman, using himself as live bait to flirt and charm and seduce an assassin in order to take her into custody without fuss. Yeah, that was probably it. He couldn’t say he would be all too pleased if it had been the other way around and he would be watching her ravish another man even if it was just for the job. 

That was definitely it. There couldn’t be anything else. 

“You know I love you,” He said as a statement, yet she nodded as though it was a question, and he kissed her again because he’d regretted not doing it a hundred times a day the second he’d seen her in that closet, regretted not seeing the fact she was more than likely uncomfortable with her boyfriend of two years wining and dining a murderer. “Whatever I say when I’m there with her, you know I love you, more than I could ever love anything else,” 

He seemed so sincere, his eyes turning into that soft puppy like frown, and it only served to drive the knife in deeper as she nodded, her hands wrapping into his hair and pulling him down to kiss her again, this time just a little harder like his lips could wipe away the pit in her stomach. Because it was Spencer, and she was lying by omission, and god did she need him to know how much she loved him before things went wrong and they changed and-

“We have a little time right?” She said, his hands taking the hint as they pulled her to her feet gently, cereal long forgotten in a chocolate slush, and his hands reached down to cup her ass in the way he was more than used to doing now. Didn’t stop him from blushing however. 

“Y-yeah we have time,” He said, and she barely let him finish his sentence before she’d claimed his mouth again, not that he was complaining. She looped her fingers through his belt buckle, stepping backwards with his guidance towards their bedroom, and he hummed through a moan when he felt her run the other hand through his already messy bedhead, tugging on the ends of his curls gently.

“Good,” She responded, with a drop of that natural Bugsy cheekiness he was used to, and the sound of it made him smile. Maybe it was just the job after all, “I think I need a demonstration on just how much you don’t mean whatever you need to say to her,” 

He smirked, because she was more like herself than she had been in days, and god was she pretty when she smiled at him before they had sex, like she knew what was coming, like she knew what she did to him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear his heart thumping in her ears just as clearly as he could. 

“I think you’ll need multiple demonstrations,” He said, his fingers looping in between her buttons on her trousers and popping them apart softly because they’d done this before, rushed it so they weren’t late for work, and ended up ripping good jeans, “Gather multiple sets of data before you draw a conclusion,” 

He kissed down her neck and her small laugh became a moan, “I think it’s pretty much the only way, Doctor Reid,”

He laughed, and she felt it against her pulse, the sound of it making her shiver as he shoved the door open with little remorse for the way it slammed into the wall. And she made a promise to herself that once they’d caught their UnSub, she would tell him, even if it meant all of this would change. 

–

He arrived at the restaurant five minutes early, his suit steamed and neat, a single red rose in his hand. His skin was already crawling at the idea of flirting with another woman, but Spencer knew none of it was real, knew he was just doing his job. Still it didn’t diminish the desire to glance where Bugsy and Rossi were sat in a booth, because he’d seen her in that red dress a thousand times before, and yet it still made his jaw drop the second he saw her in it.  

The brief had been black tie, something to fit in with the five star restaurant, and god had she delivered. He ought to have protested, told her that she was too distracting and maybe insisted she stayed in the office if she looked so striking, but then again she could have worn a bin bag for all he cared, he would still be fighting the urge to look over at her. 

He chose the seat with Bugsy at his back as to eliminate his urge to stare at her, because Dave could keep her safe, the rest of his team could watch her, he had to trust that. 

He lay the rose on the other side of the table, fiddling with the other parts of the cutlery to make sure everything looked perfect, even though in his mind he was thinking of all the things Bugsy would have been saying if she was his date tonight. She probably would have made a comment on his suit (she already had before they’d even stepped out the hotel, just as he’d given her arse a quick squeeze with cheeks even more crimson than her dress because she looked divine), probably would have offered to go to the in-and-out down the street instead because she never cared about splashing out on dates, just being with him was enough. 

Adjusting his jacket a little, he waited, trying to keep his head far away from his girlfriend, although that was much easier said than done. He couldn’t remember what his brain was like before it was filled with thoughts of her.

The ring sat in his sock drawer, buried in one of his older pairs that he hoped she wouldn’t go after since he’d made the mistake of putting it in with his boxers and almost got caught within a day when she went to steal some ready for bed and he’d chided himself for the sloppy work. He knew he wanted to ask her, thought he might even bring her to a fancy place like this, maybe prepare a small speech that attempted to tell her how much she meant to him even though he knew there wasn’t enough words for such a thing. Would he hide it in the cake? No that would be cheesy, she found cheesy overdone. Would she even like it done in public? No, she would hate that, he would wait until they got home, maybe even try that thing she’d wanted to do in bed for a few weeks, and then when they were done-

“Spencer?” A woman appeared at the table, a woman who by all accounts was objectively pretty, yet he felt that small kick of victory when he recognised her from the FBI database. 

Cat Adams. Assassin. Mastermind. UnSub. 

“Cat?” He said with practised naivety, and this time he forced all thoughts of his loving girlfriend from his head like they were about to be tainted by the woman standing in front of him, “Hi,”

“Hi,” She replied, her grin too bright and sparkly for anyone to ever guess she was a killer though he supposed that was the point,

“Hello, it’s nice to finally-” He cut himself off when she leaned up to hug him, her face drawing closer to his suddenly and she looked like she was gearing up for a peck on the lips. Forward. Much more forward than he’d given her credit for, and his stomach flipped in discomfort as he leaned away, “Oh s-sorry, I have kind of a germ thing,” He excused, which wasn’t a total lie. 

Also my girlfriend is sat ten feet away and I can already hear her clenching a fork ready to ball your eyes out like a melon, he wanted to say, though he kept his snark to himself. 

“Oh, sorry,” Cat said, holding her hands up in surrender, and looking up at him with what he knew to be false innocence. But he played along, because the sooner they caught her, the sooner he could be done with the entire thing.

“I’m kinda weird with hugs,” He explained, his face boyish as he gestured her to take a seat, because at least then he could put some distance between them, “Please, sit down,”

She smiled dizzily, slipping her jacket off to reveal a blue dress that accentuated her pixie short hair, her collar bones that could cut glass, her small, sleek figure, and she adjusted her straps as an excuse to divert his attention to her breasts.

“That’s like the oldest trick in the book, get some new material, bitch,” Bugsy mumbled under her breath, drowning her venom in sparkling apple juice disguised as champagne from where they sat in a dark corner booth and Rossi chuckled, shaking his head. 

“I wouldn’t worry about boy genius having a wandering eye, kid. Reid is more devout than my mother on Easter Sunday,” He said, picking at the starter they’d ordered as a way to seem busy. She hummed, diverting her attention into her chicken salad, making sure she wasn’t looking at the happy couple for too long as they talked awkwardly, “Do you think you could take her?”

“I know I could take her,” Bugsy responded in a clipped tone, and Rossi sniggered, and they heard Tara and Derek do the same down their earpieces. 

“It was a joke,” Cat said, to something they hadn’t quite caught, though by the looks of it they were still just making small talk, “A bad joke,”

“No, no, it was funny,” Spencer said reassuringly, and he chuckled, though Bugsy knew off the bat it was fake because she loved making him laugh and it sounded nothing like that. They fell into an awkward silence and she could hear Spencer scrambling for things to talk about because if she walked away their lead to the other assassin went right with her. 

“Can we start over? Hi, I’m Cat,” The woman said, fixing her skirt with a shy smile. She certainly didn’t seem like a killer, Bugsy thought, where she glanced at her in her peripheral. She certainly was pretty, spritely even. A little too eager to kiss a guy she just met. 

“Hi, I’m Spencer,” He replied, in that nervous tone he usually got when she flustered him. 

“Is it true you have three PHDs?” Cat asked with, well, cat-like eyes flicking between sly and seductive, and Bugsy could see how any man who wasn’t as smart as her boyfriend would fall for the act.

“Yes, that’s true. I do have three PHDs,” 

“What’s your favourite book you read last year?” She pressed and Bugsy sipped her juice to stop herself from answering for him.

“I’ve honestly never read a book I haven’t loved,” He said, deflecting the subject, while his girlfriend smirked into her almost empty plate. 

Demons by Fydor Dostoevsky, she corrected to herself because she knew he’d gone back to it more than a handful of times. 

“Tell me about your wife,” Cat went in for the kill, her timid smile morphing into something wicked as she watched Spencer squirm. 

And the second she’d said it something had reared its ugly head inside him. Because try as hard as he might, all he could think about was Bugsy’s face and that damn ring. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d er…” He cleared his throat, wondering why it was so difficult to get through a single conversation when they’d ran through the plan a million times. He knew she would ask, and yet all he could do was get defensive thinking about Cat damn Adams setting her hands on the woman he wanted desperately to marry, “I’d rather not talk about her,”

“Might as well get it out in the open right? I mean, it’s why we’re here,” She said smugly, like that innocent bounce in her step had wiped right away, revealing the murderess underneath, “How long have you been married?”

“Four years,” He lied, though he thought back to JJ’s wedding that same amount of time ago and how beautiful she looked in her dress and her cast and how he’d wished it was theirs. 

“When is she due to give birth?” Cat’s eyes narrowed at the man, pushing her hair behind her ear in a playful manner. 

Bugsy stopped, licking her lips and hoping Rossi wasn’t watching her as she finished off the last of her sparkling juice, raising a hand to a passing waiter to order a second round. 

“You having another one, Grandpa?” She said innocently, despite the stink eye he gave her and nodding to the non-alcoholic beer he’d ordered. 

“Watch yourself,” He said as the waiter retreated, and she snickered into her meal, “Grandpa will knock you on your ass,” 

“You would never, Hotch would hate that kind of paperwork,” She said setting her cutlery on the side of her plate to signal she was done, “HR would have a field day,”

“I wanna hear you say it,” The line crackled in their ear as Bugsy’s drink arrived at the table, and she couldn’t help but think the woman’s seductive voice could easily pass for a call girl. She chanced a quick look over at their table, her heart rate spiking when she saw the woman all but eye fucking Spencer with a bit of her lip, like the thrill of the chase was half the fun for her, and Bugsy felt the disgust settle in her stomach. 

“To have her killed,” Spence replied, and she looked away then, the bitterness settling on her bottom lip in a sneer. She didn’t think for one second that Spencer would think the woman was alluring, it didn’t make him flirting any easier to watch. 

The UnSub smiled wryly, looking down at his arm, “Let me see your ring,”

Spencer froze, holding his hand out hesitantly, the feeling of the gold band entirely alien on his finger even though he was trying to get used to it for the sake of the case. Cat’s hand shot out like a snake striking, holding his ring in between her perfectly manicured fingers, her eyes roving over the jewel.

“You know what that is?” She said with contempt, shaking her head, “A noose, only it doesn't kill you all at once it kills you slowly, day by day,” 

And he couldn’t have disagreed more, in fact the only thing that was killing him was the fact he had been dumb enough to wait so long to propose to the woman he loved more than life itself. 

Spencer Reid, dumb and in love.

“You ever feel that way?” She said, ripping him out of his thoughts, and he nodded wordlessly, sighing for effect.

“I feel that way all the time” Except his every day was spent wondering just how he ever got so lucky, how he managed to fall in love with the same woman who gave him apple cake when he couldn’t remember the last real meal he’d had because he was three months deep in an opioid addiction and having her look at him like he hung the damn cosmos. 

“Take it off,” She ordered, and Spencer tried flashing her a surprised if not charmed smile, though his hackles were slightly raised, “As a sign of your commitment. To me,” 

He bit his cheek, knowing better than to argue back if he was playing the part of the down beaten husband, and began twisting the gold ring off his wedding finger, handing it over to her expectant palm. 

“If she sticks to the pattern, she’ll take him to a secondary location and then kill him.” JJ observed, sipping on her mocktail in her own fancy, ruffled dress, shooting Tara and Derek a look where they played the part of a sweet couple on a date. 

“I’d like to see the bitch try,” Bugsy said through a wide fake smile, her face showing no symptoms of anger except the flash of teeth. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’re not letting it get that far,” Rossi added, and the two of them clinked their drinks together in a ringing chink, “Hotch, do you two have a visual?”

Penelope confirmed with a few taps of her keyboard, and Hotch nodded as Spencer confirmed with a small flick of his eyes he could hear the feed, ”Alright, all agents stand by. Dr Reid will give the green light, don’t move until we have it,” 

“Twenty four carats?” Cat asked, twisting the ring in between her fingers with a smug grin like she already knew the answer. 

“Yeah,” Spencer replied, looking down at the band and back up the soulless dark hues of the black widow woman. 

“Twenty four k times… four years. Means this ring should be dinged and nicked, but,” She huffed, reaching into her purse under the table, and Bugsy damn near spat out her juice when she heard a gun load through the mic, “This sucker is brand new. You’re not married.”

“What was that, was that what I think it was?” Penelope’s stressed tone rushed through the ear piece, and the sound of it plus the smell of the chicken she’d just eaten made Bugsy’s stomach turn again. 

Except this time she felt it coming up into her throat, the same way she’d found herself feeling queasy for a few days. Spencer had thought she had a stomach bug, had tried to get her to stay home with some mint tea, but this was more than the last few times. It was like her anxiety clenched her gut in a tight grip and twisted painfully, and she lurched forward, slapping a hand over her mouth. 

“Kid?” Rossi said, his brows frowning at the expression on her face, and she immediately began untucking her napkin from her chest. 

She needed to make it to the bathroom now, hoped on everything that the sudden movement didn’t distract where Cat held a gun to Spencer’s midriff beneath the table. 

“What is she doing?” Morgan hissed into the mic, while Hotch and Penelope began barking protests. 

“Oh, good lord, Bug, stay down, you don’t know what that psycho is going to do!” Penelope squealed, watching Bugsy rush out of the booth seat, a hand firmly over her lips, and Aaron brought a hand to his head, a splitting headache forming at the sight of the youngest agent rushing for the bathroom. 

“Prentiss, what are you doing, you could blow your cover,” He snapped, though there was no anger there, and she could only switch her mic off for what was about to happen, knowing the team had much bigger things to worry about. 

Bursting the doors open, she dived for the nearest stall and fell to her knees, head in the bowl before she could hock up her guts over the floor, and then came a horrid retching sound. 

Spencer’s eyes widened at the table, hearing his team yelling out orders at the one person he couldn’t keep track of, and it took everything in him not to turn in his seat to investigate for himself what happened for her to flee the safety of the table, or go after her even. Because even if he wanted to, even if he needed nothing more than to make sure she was okay, he couldn’t move an inch. Not with the gun being pointed at all of his important organs by the experienced killer with a smile.

“Do you know why I’m so good at my job?” Cat asked in a sweet tone, her eyes cold and calculating as she cocked the gun beneath the seat. 

“Because you kill without compunction or remorse,” Spencer bit, the flirty look in his expression long gone the second he’d heard the rest of his team calling for his girlfriend. He needed to keep his head, Bugsy was safe so long as she was far away from the woman pointing the gun at him. Having the weapon aiming for him he could deal with. 

“That only gets a girl so far in life,” Cat agreed with a nod, her jaw setting in a hard clench, “No, it’s because I think through every possible outcome and then I plan accordingly,”

And Bugsy’s stomach seized hearing her voice so cold and viscous, and she would give anything to hear her partner flirting with that bitch of a woman if it meant she knew he was safe. She emptied her stomach again right as she heard their UnSub speak once more.

“You see, I didn’t walk into your trap. You walked into mine,”

And with that Bugsy gave another hurl.

–

“Spencer, why did you take time off from the FBI?” Cat insisted, her voice nails on a chalkboard, and he felt the apathy on his face flick into slight annoyance. 

Bugsy. Because Bugsy had been ill, because she hadn’t been sleeping, because she hadn’t been herself for a few months, because his mom had gotten worse, because they needed him. 

Spencer would take the bullet before he ever told her about Bugsy, because he knew for a woman who loved male attention, telling her about the girl he loved most in the world would only draw a big target on her back, and he would never dare to put her at risk. Never again. 

Not a single hair on her head, he’d promised. Not even a scratch. 

“You can ask me as many times as you want but I’m still not going to tell you,” He snipped, making sure to keep his face expressionless if he really wanted to sell the deal that she was a nobody to him.

Her mouth tightened in frustration, “Then you’re cheating, and I don’t like cheaters,”

“You don’t get everything you want just because you’re pointing a gun at me under the table.” He stated blankly, his team waiting on bated breath to see if they needed to send in their back up since JJ’s cover had already been blown. “You’re not the first killer to point a gun at me, you’re not even the first woman to point a gun at me. Sorry.” 

Cat’s smile shifted into something akin to a snarl, and she leaned forward on her elbows, and Spencer matched her challenge with cool ease. “You’re really gonna take this all the way, aren’t you?” 

And Spencer smiled wryly, because her composure was collapsing beneath her, “Yeah,”

“So am I,” 

“Dave, go,” Hotch ordered, and Rossi drew his gun beneath a napkin, shuffling to his feet, “Prentiss, where the hell are you?” 

And she knew she was wasting time, but her stomach had picked the worst time to flip. Perhaps it was the anxiety, or the pressure of a gun being pointed at her love, or maybe it was bad chicken. Either way her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, her legs weak where she’d crouched on the floor, and she chided herself for not being able to pull it together when Spencer needed her. 

And as if her nerves weren’t rattled enough, she heard Spencer’s mic mute out, and she knew then that the time for sticking her head in the bowl and screaming at herself to get up was over. Spencer was in trouble. Two of their agents' cover was blown. With Tara and Derek sitting the opposite end of the restaurant, he was alone if Cat Adams decided to pull that trigger. 

Spitting the rancid taste from her mouth into the toilet, she reached up for the flush, wiping her mouth with a handful of toilet paper. 

“Hotch,” She tuned in, and she heard the sighs of relief as he and Penelope seemed to both ease slightly at hearing her voice, “I’m back, how’s Rossi?”

“His cover’s blown, he’s heading out to find JJ,” Hotch responded, his heart rate in his throat the second he’d heard her sound through. He knew it would be unfair if he pulled her from field work for another three months, but the second she’d disappeared from their screens, he’d already began thinking of the excuse he could give if it meant he knew she was kept out of harm’s way, “Where are you, are you hurt?” 

“No, no, just,” She cleared her throat, leaving the stall and heading for the sinks, “Bad chicken I guess,”

Taking a handful of cold water up to her mouth, she swilled the liquid around to try freshen herself up, sputtering it back into the sink and running the back of her hand over her lips. 

“Do you need to get out of there?” Hotch asked, the concern thick in his tone, almost as clear as it was on his brow as he leaned in to Penelope’s monitor, “Lewis and Morgan have got eyes-”

“No, I’m not leaving him out there,” She protested, leaning over the sink with an exhausted huff, “I can’t head back to the table, she’ll know I was with Rossi,” 

And as if she had spoken a plea to the universe, one of the waitresses waltzed through the bathroom door carrying glass cleaner and a bunch of fresh toilet paper under her arm, smiling sweetly at Bugsy who seemed like any other patron of their restaurant. 

Her eyes snapped over the girl’s body, figuring she was about the same size, perhaps a tiny bit bigger than herself, she almost audibly heard the click of the idea and before she knew it she had reached out to grab the girl’s attention. 

She just hoped it worked, because otherwise the scolding she was going to receive from Hotch wouldn’t be worth it in the slightest. 

“Here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna penalise you by adding ten minutes because I actually did learn something important.” Cat said with a smirk, her finger flicking over the clock on his phone as she prolonged the countdown, and Spencer squirmed where she shuffled closer to him, close enough that their knees were touching and he could feel where the toe of her heels were teasingly stroking up his calf, like threatening him and his team for information was getting her off. He felt filthy, like he’d need a dozen showers before he fell into his girlfriend’s arms, and part of him considered skipping the whole dinner and speech, asking her the second he saw her again if she would be his wife. 

Because this, having another woman so close, was making him sick. 

“Oh really? What’s that?” He snapped, his patience wearing thin as his lips pressed in a straight line. 

“Your back up, I flushed them out,” She replied with a smirk, looking around the room with an arrogance Spencer wished he could wipe right off of her face, “It’s just me and you now,” 

“Hi, how are we all doing this wonderful evening?” A chirpy voice came from the end of the table, slamming two menus down between them hard enough that their attention snapped to her immediately. Spencer felt his eyes morph into horror, though he fought hard to hide it, as he saw a familiar face, the same one that had been running through his mind since, well, forever. Her red dress was gone, replaced with a maroon shirt and a black pencil  skirt, her hair tied back in a neat bun and she had a pen pushed behind her ear for good measure as she smiled at them tightly. 

Bugsy had really done it this time. 

“My name is Emily and I’ll be your waitress. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

–

“Prentiss, what in god’s name have you done?” Hotch barked, as she waltzed behind the bar, ignoring the looks from the barman that clearly had never seen her working there before. 

“I’m making sure Spencer has back up if she decides to get trigger happy,” She bit back, snagging a pitcher of water from the fridge and two crystalline glasses, placing them on an upturned tray. 

“And what happens if she gets trigger happy towards the waitress that won’t leave them alone?” Morgan snipped, shooting her a look where their table faced the long, walnut coloured bar that wrapped around the back of the establishment. 

“Well then, I guess we pray there’s a doctor in the house that isn't Spencer,” She huffed, plastering a fake smile on her lips, and carefully shuffling the tray onto her palm, “You’re going to have to take me out yourselves if you think I’m leaving him there alone,”

And they huffed, Hotch running a hand through his hair. Because they knew she wasn’t kidding. God help the man who tried to stop Bugsy when she had her mind to something. 

And with that resounding silence, she listened to Spencer’s mic, hoping to catch a foot in to the conversation.

“You should have seen right through me the moment you walked in, but you didn’t,” He said, and she didn’t need to take a glance at Cat’s face to know she was getting more than riled up. Why was she here? What happened to staying with Rossi where it was safe? It was her first day back in the field, what was she doing? He didn’t think he’d ever been so angry, though he knew if he scratched the surface of the feeling he’d find it was fear. And unfortunately for the woman sat opposite him, he’d stopped pulling his punches because of it. “You couldn’t. Because you can’t get to the man you really want to hurt, so you need to hurt every man who reminds you of him,”

Cat’s face flashed with what he could have sworn was hurt, before her eyes steeled back over and she shrugged nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t hit straight home, “That’s kind of boiler plate psychology, isn’t it? I’m just another girl with daddy issues,” 

“You’d be surprised how many killers do what they do because of their parents,” He snapped back, because he couldn’t dare take his eyes from their UnSub, no matter how desperately his gut told him to check on Bugsy. “If it’s so boilerplate, let's test that theory. How hard did you look for him?”

Her mouth screwed up in bitterness, “Very hard,”

“And how disappointed were you when you realised you will never find him?”  Spencer drove the knife in deeper, watching Cat’s resolve fade under his hateful stare, “You needed some other outlet for your rage and for a while this worked, but it also tripped you up,” 

And Bugsy stopped, because Spencer always had a way of saying the exact right thing that made her brain tick into genius, like everything about him made her the best version of herself even if he didn’t mean to. That was what tripped her up. Her father. 

“Hotch, it’s her dad,” She murmured, flashing a couple of customers an easy smile as she took the plates off their table, because Cat would catch on way too fast if she seemed to be the only person not be doing a job, “That’s what she wants, that’s her endgame,” 

And there was only a single second between them, before Hotch caught up to that wonderfully big brain of hers, “Serial killers with an endgame will do anything to get to them, even if it means taking themselves down with it,”

“Why would I make you sit here for thirty minutes?” Cat’s voice crawled down her ear piece as she burst through the kitchen doors, dumping the plates at the pot wash and looking to where JJ and Rossi were talking with the manager. 

“Because you’re stalling,” Spencer said, though he didn’t have that usual tone that told her he was sure of himself, and she knew from the direction it was going that something was missing. They’d missed something, otherwise they’d have Cat in cuffs by now.

“Then you don’t know me at all,” She hissed back, and Bugsy shook her nerves out through her fingers, peeking at where they were sat through the thin glass pane on the door, “Do you think I would show up here without an escape plan. Or is that just what another girl with daddy issues would do? Maybe if you hadn’t fallen victim to your own gender bias, and yes all men have gender bias, even you Dr Reid, you would have recognized that your entire strategy was based on one faulty detail. Can you see it?” 

Spencer paused, his frown shifting on his face, “You’re not here alone,” 

“And my partner? Less paranoid than you think,” She said, and by the sounds of it the smirk was back on her face, and Bugsy fought the sneer twitching at her lips. 

“You planted a bomb in the building,” Came Spencer's response, the grave realisation setting all three agents into motion. JJ’s head whirled to where their youngest stood by the door, her eyes widening at her partner’s words. 

And for a second she wanted to beg Bugsy to take cover outside, to get out while she still could, because it had been a miracle the last time a building had exploded around her and she’d only broken a few bones. JJ didn’t think she could stand to grieve her for good, not the girl who had already gone through so much for them. All because they had missed it. 

But she knew better, knew Bugsy would fight tooth and nail to stay if Spencer was still in the building. Knew that that argument would only be futile, a waste of time, because the Prentiss girl was not leaving. 

“We’ll go check it out, you stay put,” JJ ordered, drawing her gun to her side as Rossi did the same and Bugsy nodded, “Don’t do anything stupid, don’t draw attention to yourself, Spencer knows what he’s doing,” 

And Bugsy paused before she answered, choosing to give them a slow nod because she already had a good idea of what her next move would be, and it absolutely did not involve staying put. 

Like hell she would stay put while he was there. 

With that, JJ and Rossi turned on their heel to head for the stairs leading underneath the building, and Bugsy picked the tray back up, right as Lewis burst through the revolving doors, a serious look on her primped face. 

“We need to evacuate,” Tara said, and Bugsy nodded, flicking a look behind her to where the rest of the kitchen seemed to be waiting on their order, because the second JJ had flashed the FBI badge, they had frozen.

“You get the customers out safely, I’m going to buy us some time,” Bugsy said, and Tara watched her slip through into the restaurant, the tray pressed against her stomach. 

This was stupid. Stupider than she’d ever been, but her thoughts struggled to make sense whenever Spencer was in trouble. And it was like she saw the splash of his brains against the table, the same way she’d seen it in Lewis’s house all on the ceiling, like she could see now just what his organs would look like when Adams shot him however many time in the abdomen. 

She couldn’t think like that. They would be okay, they would figure it out together, they always did. They always managed to put their heads together when they were in trouble. 

Being in danger together seemed like a much better bet than having to watch the love of her life killed in the middle of this damn restaurant because she hadn’t done anything. She wanted to do everything with him for the rest of her sorry life, and if that meant sitting at the nozzle end of a pistol with him, then so be it. 

She just hoped he would forgive her quickly. 

“All we want to do is-” She heard Spencer begin, the other waiters filtering out of the kitchen with shaken looks on their faces, as they carefully slipped their patrons the bill that had already paid off, asking them to leave calmly and quietly. 

“Minimise collateral damage, I get it, I’m not mad,” Cat snapped back, rolling her eyes, “It’ll give me the cover I need to slip out. I just need to know it’s clear, so do me a favour and tell your boss that nobody leaves until its safe for me to do so,” 

Spencer chewed his tongue. He couldn’t let her leave, not when they had her so close, not when they were pursuing Penelope, not when they were so close to catching the woman responsible for so many kills. 

Spencer hated losing, he hated knowing that she was about to get away because he had been too wrapped up in his overwhelming thoughts to figure out her plan, too busy fretting over the two women who meant the most to him to think ten steps ahead like he usually did. 

He’d been sloppy, even though he knew he should cut himself some slack. His fiancee, girlfriend, had been tortured, his mother facing a different kind of terror in her mind altogether. He hadn’t been thinking about work, he’d been thinking of the house they were going to buy with the picket fence and the porch swing and the mortgage, and the damn ring-

“Well?” Cat’s goading voice ripped him out of his reverie, and he huffed in defeat, “Spencer?”

“You can leave,” He murmured, the agitation scratching at his skin because he was struggling to think of a final card to play. He was usually so good at games, usually won every single one of them. But his head couldn’t settle when Bugsy wasn’t near, when he couldn’t make sure she was safe. 

Cat shuffled out of the side of the booth, her eyes flicking across the restaurant for her contact, and Spencer had barely opened his mouth in protest before he watched the UnSub walk straight into a waitress, a false smile slipping on her face as to not raise alarm. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was-” And yet his breath hitched when he spotted the hair he’d ran his fingers through just that morning yanked into a bun, the lips he could kiss for an entire lifetime curled in disdain, the body he worshipped refusing to move out of the way for the woman in a hurry. 

And it seemed Cat only realised that the woman who had brought them water wasn’t a waitress at all, despite her plain face that had faded into the background, despite the fact Spencer hadn’t given her a second glance; Only when she heard a gun cocking behind the serving tray at her stomach did the fake smile drop from Cat Adams face. 

Because she hadn’t flushed out Spencer’s back up. Not while Bugsy was still alive and breathing. 

“Sit back down,” Bugsy growled, keeping her tone low but with enough bite that Cat’s eyes narrowed to hide the surprise. 

“Well, well, seems I hadn’t planned for everything, I thought a pretty face like you would know better than to pull a gun on a woman with her finger on the big red button,” Cat said wryly, though Bugsy caught her eyeing up her chest as if to be checking for a bullet vest, “Move out the way, sweetheart. You don’t want this to get ugly,”

Spencer’s jaw flexed as he ground his teeth, though he kept his breathing even. What was she doing? 

He didn’t care that he had no more power over her than anyone else on the team, he wanted to drag her out of the room himself if it meant she would stop throwing herself in the way of danger. 

“Unfortunately, sweetheart, that’s not happening.” Bugsy snapped back, her expression melting into something rogue, something teasing as she leaned towards Cat with a challenge in her eyes. “You’re going to sit back down, and I’m going to show you exactly why you should have accounted for a pretty face like me,” 

“You’re stalling,” Cat snickered, trying to push past the waitress, who wasn’t a waitress at all but an FBI agent, only for her hand to shoot out and grab her wrist, tossing the tray on the table. 

Spencer felt his heart lurch into his throat as he saw both of them pull their guns to waist height, a blink and you’d miss it kind of movement, and it was like he’d seen the game set and matched then and there. 

Bugsy wasn’t backing down. And neither was Cat.

“I make it a habit of knowing what kind of women are going on dates with my boyfriend,” Bugsy’s hand tightened around her wrist, watching the surprise flicker in the woman’s eyes, and she scoffed, “What? You really thought all that flirting and nervous glances were real?”

And the woman said nothing, her ego clearly a little hurt, though Bugsy was just sticking to the profile, and the profile said she revelled in male attention. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Bugsy snipped through a grin, even if her chest was pounding at the feeling of the gun pointing at her abdomen, “Well, lucky for you I have a present for you. On the condition you sit back down and play my game,” 

“You think I’m going to fall for that shit?” Cat seethed. It was one thing to outsmart a man, that was fair game, that was easy pickings for a woman like her. But a woman, a woman who seemed to love playing with her food as much as she did. That was different, “What is it, a reduced sentence? The good TV in my two by four cell? You can keep dreaming, I don’t want your worthless promises,” 

“I’d hardly call your daddy dearest worthless,” Bugsy mused, and she watched Cat’s expression falter, “A dead beat drunk maybe, but worthless? A little harsh considering you waited so long to meet him,” 

Cat paused, eyes flicking over the woman’s face for any signs of a lie, “You have my father?”

And Bugsy smirked, “Do I look like I’m bluffing?” But her face was set in stone, and Cat hated to admit she seemed too confident to be lying, “Why don’t you make this a little easier for everyone and sit back down. I’m not done with you yet,”

The murderess scowled, her shoulders straightening as she ripped her wrist out of Bugsy’s grip and retreated back to the booth. 

And it was only then that Bugsy looked at Spencer, his eyes wide in a horrid mix of terror and rage, and it was a sight she swore she never wanted directed at her again. But she couldn’t leave him, he had to understand that. Because if all the bets were off, if all the cards were dealt, she knew he would need to be dragged screaming from the building before he left her to deal with a hostile UnSub alone. 

And Spencer knew that too, of course he knew that. Yet it didn’t diminish the sickening worry bubbling up in his chest as the women sat down at the table, and their game had a playing field. 

“So, I take it this is the darling wife you wanted killed,” Cat sneered, and Spencer didn’t dare take his eyes off the woman with the gun, even if Bugsy did have one pointed right back at her, “I don’t blame you, I’d want to be rid of her too,”

And they both knew it was a dig, a stab in the interest of getting them both riled up. But it wouldn’t go far. Because despite the anger Spencer felt dwindling in his chest, he always worked better with her. Like a puzzle piece in the tangle of his mind had clicked into place, and suddenly they were a team again, and she seemed more like herself than she had in months, an ease about the way she leaned back in the plush seat despite the fact her finger was resting on the trigger. 

“Have you ever played Cat’s cradle?” Bugsy asked her, knocking her knee against his as if she’d heard his thoughts. They were together in this. Together. Even if the building went up in flames and bullets and the plan went to shit. Just the two of them, the way they’d always been. 

And he felt himself ease back too, something akin to security shifting over him. They always were safer together. 

Cat’s eyebrows raised as Bugsy dodged her comment, “What, do you want to braid my hair like sixth graders, too? What about it?” 

Bugsy shrugged, reaching over with her free hand to the glass of water she’d set down for the two of them, “The way I see it, Cat, you have got those little paws caught in yarn and are scrambling to get out of it,” She chuckled, taking a quick sip, “Now, if we were to let you go, you’d end up walking out of here scot free, and who knows, might even blow up the whole building anyway. But, if we help you out of this little tangle you’ve got us all in, then maybe we cut a deal that doesn’t involve all of us going out in a ball of flames and champagne. Sounds good right?”

The woman’s lips pursed tightly, her head tilting in annoyance, “Alright. Get on with it, no one likes a show off. How did you find my father?” 

Bugsy smirked, “Well that was pretty easy once you have access to the files we have. We traced your birth record to a Daniel Adams, who did in fact leave the country in 1987 but returned in 2012. Based on confidential records in rehabs and sober living houses, which in turn pointed us to flophouses and soup kitchens.” 

The brunette’s eye twitched, like the girl had just spat in her face, which was what it felt like, and she felt the taste of her own medicine was just as sour as she’d always presumed. 

“He couldn’t put twenty four hours together sober, sweetheart,” Bugsy summarised, shrugging her shoulders as if it was no big deal to her, just another bum on the street, “You can probably imagine our surprise to find that he lives here in DC,”

“Where?” Cat hissed, and Bugsy snickered, shaking her head and taking another sip of her water. 

“I’m an agent, not a miracle worker. It wasn’t that simple,” She replied, boredly tracing her finger over the restaurants emblem they had printed on the napkin, “I found him on the street, showed him your picture and said I’d like to ask him some questions about his darling daughter,”

Cat’s lip pulled down in annoyance, her matt red lipstick smudging with her pout, “And?”

And perhaps Bugsy was being cruel. Perhaps she was playing into the profile that indicated Cat needed someone to match her wit and zeal if she was going to listen. Men, she could squash like bugs. Bugsy, ironically, not so much. 

Perhaps she was thinking about how she’d reached into Spencer's pants to retrieve his gun, and wanted some of what she was saying to hurt. 

“He didn’t even know he had a daughter,” Bugsy said simply, with a small shrug of her shoulders, and she watched the woman’s onyx brown eyes glisten with unshed tears as the realisation crashed on her, "Didn't really seem to care,"

“He-he didn’t remember me?” Cat asked, the tease that had been there half an hour ago wiped clear from her tone, and Bugsy shook her head. 

“Nope,” She said, popping the last syllable, “Alcoholism really rocks your brain. Sorry, honey,”

Adams scoffed, shaking her head with venom, “You’re not sorry. Sorry is what people say when they don’t understand,”

And Bugsy’s brows raised, a bitter empathy flicking in her gaze. Quick, but not so quick that Cat didn’t catch it, and she shuffled in her seat. 

“Oh,” Their UnSub paused, the trodden down look on her face rekindling with interest, “But you understand, don’t you? What, does your father like a good beer or ten, princess?” 

Bugsy snickered emptily, “Ofcourse I understand,” She said, leaning over the table to hold the woman’s glare, because like hell would she back down just because Cat was treading on home ground, “I haven’t spoken to my father in five years. He picked the hot wife and holidays to Aruba over his little girl and he thought a new pony or two would make up for all the times he forgot Christmas. I can’t even remember the last time he sent me a birthday card on time, and yeah he was a bit of a mean bastard once he'd had a whiskey,” She shook her head with contempt, and she felt Spencer knock his knee against hers gently, but she only watched the viper woman with careful eyes. And to her shock, Cat seemed like she understood her, like she had some kind of respect for her telling the truth. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m very good at making sure old guys like that get what’s coming to them. Or is that just what another girl with daddy issues would do?” 

Cat’s face seemed to shrivel in frustration when she heard her words repeated back to her, “Is that really why you came here today? To help me?” And Bugsy tilted her head, knowing their UnSub was running out of time, that her window of opportunity was closing with the patrons of the restaurant getting antsy to leave. “Do you know how many men have told me they want to help me?”

Letting her expression smooth into empathy, she leaned forward, her tone dropping into a hushed murmur, “That may well be true, sweetheart, but from where I’m sitting, I’m not a man,” 

And Cat paused, something like regret drifting over her face, before she spoke again, “Do you want to know how that worked out for them?” 

And with that, JJ and Rossi watched the C4 charge’s switch to green, indicating their line was live and ready to blow. 

“Hotch, she just armed the bomb,”

Bugsy’s expression dropped an inch, the sight of it making Cat’s lips curl into a cheshire smile. 

“You’re not the only one with a loyal partner, honey,” 

But the Prentiss woman was quick on her heels, watching Morgan and Tara rise from their place at another booth, heading towards a woman sitting at the bar on her phone, and she forced her lips together to stop herself from looking too smug to cause suspicion. 

“It seems so,” Bugsy agreed with a nod, handing her gun off to Spencer beneath the table. 

If he was confused, he didn’t show it, probably because he trusted that big brain of hers with everything in him, even if he was mad enough he could feel the annoyance oozing from his hot cheekbones. Yet to the rest of the restaurant, Cat Adams, included she hadn’t moved an inch. 

“But, there is one thing I can guarantee about this partner of yours,” She said, leaning over to pour herself another glass of water casually. 

Cat hummed in content, “Oh, right? What’s that?”

And Bugsy smirked, barely raising the glass to her lips as Morgan pounced on the Bomber, ripping the phone out of her hands and causing the patrons around her to yelp, “She’s sure as shit not as clever as me and my husband,” 

Cat’s head whirlled around to see her partner’s face slamming into the hard wood of the bar, Tara yanking the cuffs from her belt, and she barely had time to flick back to the two agents facing her before a pitcher of ice cold water was thrown in her eyes, her thick mascara running down her cheeks and blurring her vision. Spencer dove over the table and grabbed her gun from her grasp as Bugsy ripped her out of the booth with rough hands. 

She threw her to the ground in the few seconds she was disorientated, her hands tightening around her wrists as make shift cuffs, and she saw Spencer hurrying to grab the real things from his pockets. 

“That was a cheap shot, you’re a cheater, you said you’d play fair,” Cat barked, her cheeks pressing against the rough carpet as the agents cuffed her, ignoring her protests and shoves. 

“Honey, this is me playing fair,” Bugsy snapped with a cruel smirk, “You threatened my friends, you stuck your hand in my boyfriend’s pants, and pointed a gun at him. Believe me I could have done so much worse,” 

And with that Cat Adams was hauled off the ground by the two of them, as they led her out to the police van waiting outside the restaurant. 

–

The doors pulled open, empty, and Cat’s face dropped, because her only silver lining on the entire outcome had been that she’d be able to meet the dead beat dad that ran out on her. 

That agent’s face had been so genuine as she’d said it. It had seemed so real, and yet… 

“You lied to me,” She said as Bugsy set her down on the bench, Spencer pulling another set of handcuffs from his belt and the two of them looked up at her, her lashes lining with disappointment. 

“If it helps, we really did try to look for him.” Spencer said, his tone blunt because she had a crazed look in her eye he didn’t like one bit the second she stared at his girlfriend.

And even though she was the one in chains, heading for prison for a twenty year sentence at the minimum, she laughed. Cackled. 

“It doesn't matter anyway, I still won,” She said, that venomous gaze turning to Spencer because she had learned atleast two thing in the time she’d been sat with the two agents that ruined her life. 

One. Spencer’s mother had Alzheimers, that he hadn’t been lying about. That she was sure was too real to be a story he’d pulled out his ass. 

Two. The girl wasn’t phased by insults or bites or cruel words directed towards her. Yet when it was at Spencer…

“How do you figure that one?” Bugsy said, her brow furrowing as she shook her head at the woman.

“In ten years, Mommy dearest won’t remember anyone’s name,” Bugsy’s head shot up at that, her lips curling into a snarl, and she forced her fingertips into her palm to stop herself from throwing a slap at the woman’s face, “But I’ll remember yours,” 

Bugsy daren’t react, no matter if her chest boiled in anger at the woman’s callous words. Spencer had to give that information up, give a small bit of his soft underbelly to get the woman to trust him enough not to shoot. 

And she couldn’t exactly blame him when he rose to his feet, darting out of the van with a clenched jaw, because the day had been an entire shit show, and she knew by the growl of annoyance he let out that their was a big conversation looming over her head, one she could only see ending in a fight.

It was just the two of them in the van, Cat entirely bound to her seat, and her painted lips had pulled into a grin the second he’d stormed off, her sleek eyes snapping to Bugsy who looked ready to slit her throat. 

“Oh, come on Princess, it was tit for tat,” Cat shrugged as if she didn’t seem destroyed, “You took my dad from me, I guess I had to do the same for that hubby of yours,”

Bugsy looked down at her, swallowing her rage with a purse of her lips, feeling her breath rattle with unfiltered animosity.

“You’d make a shit profiler, for what it’s worth. What you profiled about him was all off,” She snarled, stepping away from the woman and looking down at her as if she was shit on the bottom of her shoe, “At least he’s going to make a better father than the bum who would rather sleep on concrete than know you,”

And with that she slammed the doors closed behind her, darting off on Spencer’s heel. 

+1. The one where she tells him.

She saw his stress lines, the way the day’s events had weighed heavy on him. He sat on the sofa, his shoes thrown by the door after a tense drive home, and she'd found a space on the coffee table in front of him.

He was quiet, he had never been quiet with her, not in the years since they’d kissed that first time in her room. He wasn’t one for the silent treatment, she knew that much. Yet he was just that. Silent.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked, her voice that of a child as her brows scrunched together in worry. She felt the words bubbling in her throat, the thing she’d needed to tell him for a week gnawing at her tongue, crawling it’s way out, only she worried that after what she had done, he might just be ten times more annoyed at her throwing herself in the line of danger. 

He stayed quiet for a moment, and she thought this might turn into their first real fight in the two and bit years they’d been together. Her skin went cold at the words that loomed over them, and she knew by the way he sighed alone he was pissed. 

“You can’t do that,” He said, his voice a restrained bite, and he shook his head for good measure, “You can’t put yourself in the way of danger again, I can’t do that again, not after Scratch.” 

Her throat closed up with tears, and she glanced at him, her fingers itching to take his warm hands in her own, her body begging to preen into him, have him kiss her and tell her he wasn’t mad, that he still loved her, that everything was okay. But he wouldn’t. Not because he didn’t feel any of that, of course he still loved her, but the wet that lined his lashes told her all she needed to know. That seeing what Scratch had done to her had scared him enough that even the idea of her coming close to a hostile UnSub with a loaded gun, that straying from the plan that was designed to keep everyone safe, had tipped him into a grey area that had him both wanting to hold her close and never let her go whilst yelling at her in that broken cadence to show her just how hurt he was. 

“I’m sorry, I just-” She choked, her eyes becoming watery and pathetic and she hated crying during arguments, not wanting to look weak but that was exactly how she felt. Weak. Like she had no backbone to lean on because she knew she shouldn’t have intervened, but the snake-like woman undressing her boyfriend with her eyes while cocking a weapon at him had pushed her over the edge. 

“Oh, you’re sorry, that makes it much better,” Spencer shook his head, furrowing his brows and it was only when he leaned forward that the salty hot tears dribbled down his cheek. “You- you can’t just do that, Bugsy, you know that right?”

She nodded, the words building in her trachea like word vomit, like she wanted to scream the confession at him that she should have given him the second she’d found out. “I know, I’m sorry,” She said again, her words entirely warbled with guilt because she’d never seen him so distraught, and she thought back to the horror that had spread on his face when she’d sat down. 

“You can’t do that to me, sweetheart, do you understand?” His tone had shifted, something a little softer and he grabbed her hands tightly when her shoulders hunched together, and she leaned forward to try to hide her cries in her lap, sitting silently like a scolded child, “What were you thinking? You just got back into the field today, you could have been hurt, you could have gotten someone else hurt-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” She sniffled, her expression truly guilty, because everything he was saying was exactly true, she could have gotten him shot. “I didn’t think, I wasn’t thinking, I just was worried that…” She trailed off, her heart rate spiking when the words almost slipped from her tongue. She couldn’t tell him, not like this.

“What?” Spencer pressed, because he didn’t like the look of whatever had just passed over her face, and she shook her head in denial, “Bug, tell me,” 

“No, I can’t,” Her breath clogged in her chest, coming out in a shaky rattle, and it was then that he leaned forward even more, trying to dip his head down to catch her eye, "Not like this,"

“Please tell me,” He begged, his eyes still stinging where another wave of tears threatened to burst at the seam when she shook her head again, her chin pressing down into her chest because he hated this. He hated arguing with her. “I’m sorry I yelled, I didn’t mean to, honey, I just got- worried.”

“I know,” She said quietly through another sniffle, rubbing her cheek on her shoulder to dry it, “I know, I’m sorry I didn’t think it through I just,” She took a deep breath, because she knew she needed to tell him, knew there was no more running from it. 

He lifted a palm to her cheek, his thumb skirting under her eyelashes, and he forced himself together because he could never stand to see her cry, not when it was partially his fault, “What?” 

“I just can’t do this without you,” She murmured, her heart in her throat, and it only made it difficult to swallow. She chanced a look at Spencer, his eyes wet and red and worried as she continued, “I can’t be the one to tell this kid their dad died because I didn’t do anything,” 

“What..” He started, his brows immediately falling into a frown as he looked at her. She swore she could hear every single contraction of her heart muscles in her ears, the blood rushing through her veins making it sound like waves crashing on a shore right in her eardrum. 

“It’s still fixable,” She jumped in, before he could say anything, like she needed to justify immediately what she’d said, or even just talk to fill the silence because she hated not knowing what he was thinking, “It’s only five weeks along, I still have time to… fix it-”

“Five weeks- you-you’re pregnant?” Spencer’s eyes were wide, with horror or shock she had no idea, nor did she want to find out judging by the way he had turned pale, reading between the lines, “W-What- fix it? Is that what you want to do?” 

She stopped, because he seemed to be keeping a lid on his emotions, trying his hardest to sound calm and somehow that made it all the more worse. Because she would rather him get angry, or get frustrated and tell her this was too soon, or tell her there was no way he was ready to be a father, because at least then the pressure of it wasn’t on her back to decide for both of them. 

But he would never, and she didn’t know why she’d ever second guessed him. He wasn’t yelling, or turning away, or leaving her the second things got tough, because it was Spencer. And Spencer would never. Spencer gave her the choice of what she wanted to do. 

She stopped, her lungs suddenly feeling just that bit tighter, as she shrugged pitifully, and she thought this was perhaps not the most ideal way to tell someone you’re pregnant, “I-I don’t know, I think…” She stopped, because what did she think? She’d been so wrapped up in worrying about what Spencer would think, worrying about his mom and her nightmares and Cat God Damn Adams that she hadn’t even let herself entertain the thought of a little them. 

But if she said she didn’t like the idea of a little boy with Spencer’s hair and glasses and smile, if she said she couldn’t see the photo album his mom had handed her full of pictures of their kids butt naked and watering the flower beds, she would be a liar. 

“I think… it would take a lot of work, I mean it’s a baby for christ sakes, Bugsy, of course it’ll take work,” He nodded slowly as she chided herself, but she felt his hands tighten on hers, and the tiny gesture gave her the encouragement she needed. She took another breath, that boy with brown curls and her eyes in a jedi costume flashing through her head, “But.. I think having a mini you is everything I could have ever wished for,” 

His lip quivered for a minute, and she worried she’d said the wrong thing. And then…

He smiled, wider than she’d ever seen him, like she could count every single one of his teeth, and she copied him despite the way a frog leapt into her throat, and she saw his eyes line with a fresh set of tears. 

“Really, we’re really doing this?” Spencer asked, quietly, like someone could hear them, or perhaps he couldn’t believe himself even as he said it. He thought his chest was about to explode, thought his heart could never love someone so much as he loved her, thought it would never beat the same way again as it had before he’d been told he was going to have a baby with the woman he’d been in love with for nearly nine years. She nodded, her shy smile turning into something happy, maybe even excited as he pulled her in for an achingly sweet kiss, his hands cupping her cheeks as he kissed her lips over and over and over again, ignoring the salt that trapped in her skin, and he realised then he had started crying just as much as she had. Two wailing saps sitting in their living room, happier than they’d ever dreamed they were allowed to be. “I love you, I love you, I love you more than anything, I was so stupid, I’m so sorry I shouted-” 

She chuckled, shaking her head, and drawing him back in for a long, silencing kiss, “I was stupid, very stupid.” Bugsy said, the weight lifting off her chest like a dumbbell had been moved, and she could breath again. Because Spencer kissed her like he wanted to merge their bodies into one, like he didn’t care for breath anymore as long as he had her lips on his, and she couldn’t help think if that was what he thought of her too, “No more being stupid from either of us. Kid’s got to have at least one smart parent,“

He smiled, enough joy in his eyes to make her think she was handing him the universe. And yet that was exactly how he felt. Like everything he dreamt of as a kid, when he was in his room wishing his dad had stayed because sometimes looking after his mom was tough on a twelve year old, or when he’d held Henry for the first time and thought maybe he wouldn’t be terrible at it by the time it was his turn. 

He looked at Bugsy, the idea of their kid growing inside her, about the size of a petit pois pea at five weeks, and Spencer damn near felt like he’d won the lottery. 

And all thoughts of Cat Adams were gone from both of their minds, the viper woman she wished she had gotten a good right hook to when she’d had the chance entirely unimportant now. 

Because they were going to be a family, more so than they already were. And Bugsy felt as though she couldn’t love Spencer any more than she already did, but she could love his baby more than she’d ever thought possible. 

--

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[lunerabo]

bedbug

cw: sub!Mahito, dom!AFAB!Reader, can we even call this pegging, dark content, stabbing, gore, evisceration (kinda), fauxjob, throatfucking (a new definition of it), dawg why did I write this

If you’re a sorcerer, you’re either here against your will, or you’re insane, they’d said.

You’re the latter; something’s been knocked just slightly off course in your mind to make you say the things you do, act the way you do. You enjoy the job far more than anyone in your field should. While others long to escape, you dream of plunging further in.

And plunge you do, just how the creature beneath you begs, its need for torture insatiable.

Blue hair swings and bobs beneath you, the curse’s throat making way for you as you fuck his mouth like you hate him. You do, you think. He’s terrific fun, though. Perhaps that’s why you let him live long enough to have him visit you like this.

He looks up at you, and you don’t like it. You sneer at him, gripping his bangs and shoving his head back downward to keep him from meeting your gaze. A giggle escapes him, cheeky, composed, far too much for your liking. Those sloppy gagging noises please you far more.

He slides off of you with a wet puah sound, tongue still out as he does. He licks his lips.

“Want to see something cool?”

That’s never good, coming out of his mouth. You make a face at him, something between a disapproving sneer and an exasperated grimace, lips pulled taut and brow furrowed. But against your better judgement, you nod at him once, the kind of casual ‘what’s up’ motion you’d send his way if you walked past him on the street.

Slender fingers stretch into talons that rend his own flesh, tearing into the soft, yielding skin beneath his chin and ungracefully ripping down and outward, spraying blood with the force of his pull. Skin stretches and tears like a plastic bag, becoming thin and white before it begins to rip. He bleeds profusely down his chest, more so when he reaches in and causes even more aimless damage. No move he makes is calculated; he may as well have stuck a potato masher in there.

Yet you watch, transfixed, and most amazingly, not nauseated by the sight. Your gaze follows in amazement as he draws the cut a little ways down his chest, ripping out anything he can grab that the opening allows. Torn nerves and skin and muscle and part of what you think is his esophagus hang limply outside his body, and he bleeds all over his lap before you, grinning and smug and eager to put on a show.

His tongue lolls out when he opens his jaw, no longer attached to anything except the bottom of his mouth. He swipes it down across his chin, something that shouldn’t be possible, with him having severed its connection in his throat.

And fuck, he’s beautiful.

Mahito shows you what surely awaits you in hell. He’s a picture of the horrors that plagued the minds of the disturbed across centuries, depicted in paintings of demons and monsters and those meeting their due punishments. You’re not likely to be grinning that much, but perhaps he knows that, and finds his own pleasure in that knowledge.

He scrambles towards you, bloodied hands clawing up your thighs, and he begs wordlessly. A hand wraps around your toy, sets it against his face. He looks up at you.

“My, you are a pretty creature, aren’t you?”

Soft, tender hands brush hair from his face as though they love him, a finger sliding underneath to run up the length of the exposed flesh to feel what he feels like on the inside. It presses down on his tongue, cleaning itself of the blood it has collected.

You force your way in, not through his mouth, but now through the new hole he has so graciously made for you.

Warm blood gushes down your thighs and a downright pornographic groan rips from his ruined throat despite his severed vocal cords. For a moment, you actually wonder how it is his body works to make that possible.

He clings to you desperately, begging for more, more, more, holding your waist flush against his opened neck. The fleshy bulge bobbing at the back of his throat bursts with the pressure he forces on it, and the bulbous head of the strap pokes through. It disappears and reappears through a hole in the flesh that doesn’t even appear to be there when you aren’t poking through it, and Mahito seems to revel in having his throat fucked backwards far more than anything else you’ve done to him. His eyes roll back and the corners of his lips pull upward, his tongue hanging out and moving a little each time the strap presses against the back of it. Blood and drool pour from his mouth, and he fucks into his fist beneath you like he’s about to burst at the seams.

He looks up at you, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed, and a warmth that definitely doesn’t flow like more blood trickles down your leg.

You withdraw, and he looks down at himself for a second. He’s drenched the both of you in blood but the wound seals in an instant, and he licks his lips and swallows, as if to make sure he put everything back correctly.

You coo at him, tone sickly sweet, feeding him words of hatred and disgust that he eats right up with a grin.

“That was a lot of fun!” He exclaims, voice light and airy, “but I’ve done something bad, though, haven’t I?” That familiar cheekiness returns, a telltale sign that he knows he’s not done. But he doesn’t want to be.

“That you have, boy.”

The curse leans back, gesturing for you to look at the whole expanse of his body.

“So where do you want me to make the next hole?”

[daddyricsdoll]

Soft ✭ Oscar Piastri

Summary: Some soft sex with Oscar after he won the sprint in Qatar.

Warnings: Unprotected sex

A/N: So sorry this took so long, well actually this wasn't planned, I was writing other things and then I realised I needed to congratulate my good looking boy. Oh this is also just a short blurb, just over 500 words. Anyways, you may carry on.

“Fuckkkk” Oscar groans as he slowly makes his first thrust. “You feel so different, so good” He finally fits his whole length in, I look up at him and watch some of his hair fall into his face, his eyes softened but still hungry. 

My lips part as I watch his perfect features and feel him inside me raw for the first time. Oscar leisurely pulls out and with the same pace, pushes back in. Moans leave both of our mouths and I lift my leg up so he can get deeper.

“Is this what I get when I'm first?” He looks down at me and I let out a failed yes, as he thrusts into me again with some more force. Oscar gives me a beautiful smile and continues at a faster but controlled pace. 

His groans are always alluring and in the darkness of the room, and warmth of his presence, it only makes you feel more addicted to it than before. “Can you go faster?” I nervously ask, and just like I had expected his pace quickens and my body starts moving more under his. 

I hear Oscar’s chuckles and I open my eyes to look at him, my hand goes to the strands of hair misplaced and I lead them behind his ear. A few thrusts later the hair falls back down and we both let out a little giggle. 

Oscar lowers his body and our faces are just centimetres away. Just like magnets our lips collide and fuse together in a soft and sensual kiss. My hand goes to the back of his neck and pulls him in deeper, his elbows beside my head barely managing to keep him up. 

My legs pliant as I feel him reach new spots and the knot inside my stomach starts tightening. My hands leave his head and wrap around his biceps, my hips moving in sync with his and just like that, I reach my climax. 

A loud moan escapes my mouth and I bite my bottom lip, back arching while Oscar continues his movements. He starts making sloppier thrusts. “Can I cum in you?” 

“Yes” I breathe out and then moments later I feel him spill into me. The one tear that must’ve fled my eye, dry now and Oscar finishes his last motions before he pulls out and flops next to me. Both our chests rising and falling with deep breaths before we both turn our heads and make eye contact with each other. I barely get up and shuffle toward him, my head buried in his chest and arms wrapped around his torso. I feel his breath on the top of my head. “Do you want me to-” I cut him off. “No, no, I just…let’s just stay here a little longer.” I take in whiffs of his scent and close my eyes, his chin rests on the top of my head and I smile into his chest. At this moment, I feel like the winner.

[bullet-prooflove]

Coy: Dean Archer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @helsinkibaby @hufflepuffgirl @mimi-8793

Releasing early as a birthday gift to my babe @mandy426

Dean found out his wife was cheating on him when he discovered he had syphilis during a routine medical check. He tells you that after you've been trapped in an elevator together for over three hours. He’d exhausted all of the small talk options after the first two so now the you’re digging into the real stuff, the stuff you don’t even tell your best friend because you’re terrified they’ll murder someone on your behalf.

You’d already disclosed how you found your husband fucking another woman on a sheepskin rug in the cabin you owned together. So it was his turn and well that’s apparently that’s the secret he chose to disclose.

“It’s gone now though right?” You say gesturing towards the lower half of his scrubs and he gives you an offended look. “You’re not just walking around sowing your wild oats…”

“One, that would be horribly irresponsible if I didn’t get treated and secondly I do not ‘sow my wild oats’.” He says making bunny ears with his fingers.

“I just assumed, an intelligent, attractive man like yourself would have a busy social calendar.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“Yea, Netflix and medical journals.” He responds before backtracking. “Wait you think I’m attractive?”

“Dean, don’t be coy.” You say, kicking him lightly in the knee with your shoe.

“I’m not.” He tells you, his cheeks colouring as he tilts his head back towards the ceiling and closes his eyes. “I can’t remember the last time someone told me they found me attractive. It’s usually grumpy, egotistical…”

He laughs before he tips his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours.

“I’m not selling myself am I?”

“Do you feel like you need to?” You ask him and he frowns before he shakes his head.

“No I…” He trails off before he looks at you a little differently. “I’ve never felt like that with you, it doesn’t feel like trying. Hell I’ve just told you I’ve had syphilis so I think we can discern I feel pretty damn comfortable around you.”

“Yea.” You say with a sigh, tucking your hands into your pockets. “Comfortable.”

“I’ve said something wrong.” He says quietly. “I didn’t mean…”

“No.” You say softly, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s just, I’m not the girl that gets the guy. I’m the weird one that cuts up bodies in the morgue.”

“You do a valuable job, we learn things from that, people get closure.” You give him a look and he realises he’s doing it again, saying the wrong thing. “I’m not explaining myself well.”

“No you are.” You say with a smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. “I understand perfectly.”

Silence falls between the two of you and now it’s his turn to sigh because he’s never been good at communicating, not when it comes to the important stuff. Up until three hours ago you were just a colleague, the woman he had a thing for. And now…

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful.” He tells you because you took a risk and now it’s his turn. “And it has been intimidating actually, because you’re also smart and funny. The perfect package.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

He can tell you don’t believe him, why would you? You’re ex-husband spent years lying to about his affairs. He knows how that feels, how it erodes at your self-worth. He also knows that sometimes actions speak louder than words.  

“I mean it.” He tells you, his fingertips tilting up your chin so that he can look into your eyes. “I never thought I had a shot with you.”

“We’re idiots aren’t we?” You say softly as his thumb traces over the apple of your cheek.

“We are trapped in an elevator.” He agrees, his nose trailing along the length of yours. “And I’m terrified what other secrets I may end up spilling if we stay in here any longer.”

“You wanna do something other than talk?” You ask him and he smiles against the corner of your mouth.

“Yea.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours. “I think I would.”

Love Dean? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[kingofthe-egirls]

Hear me out, y/n and Zoro are working out, and they like train fight together and y/n wins somehow, Zoro gets all grumpy and pouts and y/n says that they will make it up to him, and Zoro being Zoro, gets an idea, and then rest is up to you my dear writer!!

ooooooooooo ok

SPARRING ROOM: ZORO x Y/N

(cw: sword fighting, sweet self indulgent combat descriptions, minor stab wound, etc., sword language, kissing)

(a/n: so i tried to focus less on just the stage directions this time, since i've been wanting to delve more into the narration and what's going on inside reader's head. snakelike imagery as well as a lot of "S" words. sometimes it felt a lil clunky but we made it through lol)

Songs: "Ain't It Fun" by Paramore, "Sexy Villain" by Remi Wolf

words: 1.9k

"That's my girl," Zoro says, strong hand on your back as you finish up your set of push-ups (thirty second reps with fifteen second breaks between). He lets you sit up, stretching out your back.

"Thanks, Zo," you say, pushing up to standing. You take a long drink of water, drips tickling down your chin and onto your sports bra. Zoro clears his throat, and looks away. You smile.

Swordsmen are so noble.

"Wanna fight?"

Zoro scruffs his hand through his hair, pushing up to standing himself. He towers over you, a good several inches. Maybe a full foot. You knock your forehead into his chest. Headbutting is your way of showing affection, kinda like a cat.

He scruffs your hair, too, from where it's pulled back into a messy ponytail. "Sure," he says, and moves over to the side of the crow's nest where his three swords sit against the wall. You watch the ocean way below, swishing and sparkling as it laps against the Sunny.

You bend to pick up your own rapier, the silver filigree wrapping around your hand comfortably in a decorated knuckle guard. The dancing tiger that stalks its way across the sweepings guides you to victory, all the way down to the rapier's gleaming point.

You swipe it through the air, relishing the swiftness and flexibility of your sacred blade. Nightingale. She is a snakelike, hissing thing that speaks to you in whispers as she flies. You pair her with a short blade, held in your other hand with no less care.

Meadowlark.

Swordsmen are always worried about the length of their swords: the bigger the better. Typical. What they don't account for, however, is the deadliness of a shorter blade. The duck and strike, the rattlesnake bite, the venom of your speed strikes straight through their lowered guard. They always overestimate themselves, since your opponents usually have a longer reach than you. But your rapier is not alone.

She bites.

And so do you.

Swordswomen do not play fair.

You grin over at Zoro, who's checking the edges of his blades so as not to cut you. Speaking to them softly, caressing their sides and gripping their handles like a lover. His voice rumbles lowly across the glossy wooden floor, sweetly beckoning the swords to follow him, obey him, let him rule over them as he spars with his friend.

You almost hear them rattling in his hands.

Purring to your own blade, you remind her sharp edges not to bite so dangerously, but not to go too easy on him either. It's a delicate balance, talking to your swords. She whispers back seductively not to worry, that she'll swing with accuracy but not deadly force. She sighs in your hand, shivering as she readies for battle.

"Easy," you murmur to her, and she sings. Meadowlark buzzes in your hand, adding the bass to her soprano. "Ready?" You ask Zoro, swiping your sword through the air. You stalk towards him, stepping carefully across slats of glossy Adam tree.

Zoro smiles wickedly, placing his white blade between his teeth. He cherishes the handle of Wado Ichimonji as if she were sweetness itself. His sister's spirit lives inside this sword. You respect his three-sword style, and have yet to beat him in a sparring match.

Swiftly, you bow.

Zoro returns the gesture, and brandishes his two swords aloft. Wado Ichimonji gleams in the sharp florescent lighting of the crow's nest. Swiping the air, you stalk around your opponent, noting his strong biceps and flexing center. He lowers his center of gravity, bending swiftly before leaping forward to strike against your guard.

You swipe away the sharp edge of Wado Ichimonji, ducking aside as Zoro lunges forward, sword tilted in his teeth. He steps away from you, just barely, so that your swift disarming counter strikes harmlessly against Sandai Kitetsu's guard. Sparks glint off where the strong metals meet. You swipe Nightingale across his side, but he dodges. You stumble forward, slightly off balance.

"Shit."

Zoro laughs, growling around the white-wrapped handle of Wado Ichimonji. "Start again," he says, standing wide with a lowered stance. Enma gleams sharply in his strong fist. You turn, stepping around in a circle as he counters your movement across the floor.

"Stumbling is never a good sign," Zoro says, swords snickering in their triangle shape. She is making fun of you in particular: the sword singing softly in his right fist. Smirking, even. Zoro matches her sneer as he closes the distance between you in swift, even strides.

"Stop it," you whisper, tightening your grip around Nightingale's sweetly wrapped handle. She has a soft, white leather made from a doe's hide. She is a flourishing, sacred blade.

"Stop what?" Zoro asks, clashing his two swords against your rapier overhead. Sparks fly down between you, and you just barely dodge out of the way of Wado Ichimonji's strike. His three-sword style is a bitch, sometimes. Stepping back, you catch your breath.

He swings, again.

Sweet Meadowlark counters the sharp edge of Enma, screaming across the sharpened steel. You grit your teeth, bringing your dagger all the way down to the hilt of Zoro's katana.

"Not you," you hiss out through a clenched jaw. Staring at Sandai Kitetsu, you push forward even more, enough to get Zoro to stumble backward. He counters, quickly. He faints with Sandai Kitetsu, before slashing sideways at your open side. You yelp, a sharp, high-pitched noise at the back of your throat. Zoro smirks.

"Swords are makin' fun of ya?"

Snickering, the three katanas all bear down on you from overhead. He's so fast. You grunt, blocking them with rapier and dagger crossed above you. He knees you in the stomach.

"Ouch!" You scream, winded. You stumble backward, clutching at your abdomen. You spit saliva onto the floor. Zoro chuckles.

He plants both feet on the floor, standing shirtless in front of you, with nothing but his leather pants and green bellyband. You're only in a sports bra and shorts, yourself. Swiping Nightingale through the air, you sprint toward him at full speed.

Fainting with Nightingale, you strike at Zoro's blind side, before ducking quickly and jabbing Meadowlark straight into his chest.

"Shit!" You squeak, ripping your steel dagger out of Zoro's bloodied chest. You hit right between the ribs, on the side with his good eye. Blood trickles down his abs in a scarlet ribbon. You smile.

Strike One: Y/n.

But the victory tastes sweet for only so long, as Zoro bears down on you with a counterattack. You dodge out of the way, but only slightly, as Sandai Kitetsu shears off a lock of your hair.

"Fuck!" You scurry backward, a rogue at heart, meant to strike and retreat as quickly as possible. Zoro stalks forward again.

This time, he twirls Enma in one hand before striking down viciously at you with a barrage of attacks. Slashes, stabs, lunges. Swipes at your side, especially the side where you hold shorter Meadowlark.

"Shut up," you tell his sassy sword, who's been snickering at you this whole time. She chides your balance, your sword play, the way you're standing with too much weight on your left side.

She glides snakelike against your dagger, bouncing off the side. Your arm stings with the recoil. Shit. You barely keep your stance in place as you're forced to shuffle backward. Sandai Kitetsu bites your upper arm, and you hiss.

"Stop dodging," Zoro commands you, striking the wall behind you, right next to your head. "You have to fight back, or else you'll be dead." Sandai Kitetsu giggles in his hand.

You're panting, sweating with exertion. Zoro's strikes are so strong. He's stepping away from you now, giving you room to breathe. You hate when he goes easy on you. Snarling, you charge forward again.

Zoro meets you halfway, growling in his throat.

Your swords clang together harshly, metallic singing reverberating throughout the room. You both back up, stepping in tune with the other's movements. He stalks around you like a tiger, and strikes at your backside. He hits you with the flat of Sandai Kitetsu's blade.

"You're weak."

He challenges you, and you see red.

It's a spin, a stab, and a dance backwards, before your vision clears. Zoro is grimacing, another bright red stripe decorating his bare chest. It's right above his sternum, and a little to the left.

He grunts, and charges after you.

Swinging at your weak spot, Zoro brings Enma down toward your side. You block the strong, sweeping arch with the silver side of Nightingale's cross guard. She resonates with the sound of the blow.

You both hold for a second, struggling to push the other's weight off.

Eventually, you let go with a huff.

"That's enough," you decide, whipping your sword through the air with a signature flourish. Zoro nods, sheathing his own blades.

"Good job," he nods, heading back over to the side to wipe his face with a towel. He throws it into the dirty clothes hamper that one of you will eventually take down to the laundry room when it gets too full.

"Yeah, right," you seethe, jaw clenched. "I wish I was anywhere near as strong as you. I can be fast, and invasive, but...," you raise your shoulders, and let them fall with a defeated sigh. "Sheer strength-wise, you've got me beat."

Zoro shakes his head, "You're not that far behind me, actually." He sits down on the bench, elbows on his knees with a canteen in his hands. He chugs a lungful of water, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

"Yeah?"

You sheath your swords, and start a cool-down stretch routine. You lean over to one side, and then the other. You shake your legs in their sockets, trying to loosen up your hip flexors.

Zoro nods. "Not everyone can fend off Enma." He regards you steadily, his green eye flicking you up and down. You stretch your arms over your head. "Especially with a blade that flimsy." He smirks at your rapier, and you huff.

"She is not flimsy." You cross your arms, nose in the air. Nightingale hums in agreement at your side. Zoro sneers a laugh.

"Plus, you can understand sword language better than any other swordsman I've met. Not even Mihawk can hear his sword so well."

At that, you pause.

Your fingers flutter around Nightengale's hilt, and you grin. "Thanks, Zoro. That means a lot."

His face flushes, and he looks away.

"Well, yeah...," he says, gruff, before pushing off the bench to make his way over to you. He skims his knuckles over the outside of your arm. His fingertips dance along the diamond pommel of your sacred blade, and you gasp. He arches an eyebrow. "Feel that?"

You nod, stunned.

"That's the bond between a swordsman and his blade."

"Her blade," you correct, and he snorts.

"Rematch after dinner?" He pulls away, and leaves you aching. You stumble after him, a step or two. He turns, pausing, with his lips parted. Your swords are clattering at your side. He looks you up and down, a question paused in his mouth that you can't quite read.

"Kiss me?"

Zoro blanches, and for a moment you're stuttering, shocked at your own bravery, boldness, yours and his swords are all clamoring to be heard above the din of blood rushing in your ears, and--

Zoro cocks his head, smirking, and closes the distance between you.

He takes both your arms in his hands, holding you by the shoulders, and leans forward to place a kiss on your waiting lips.

"How's that?"

You smile like a little kid. "Perfect," you say, before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in to deepen the kiss.

You can't wait for the rematch.

[dateamonster]

My vampire ex-boyfriend is stalking me. This is not an unusual occurrence. Even when we were still dating he was always doing this, he just used to be more obvious about it because if I called him out he already had a line locked and loaded about how he was only looking out for me. And sure, I'll admit that I've had more than the average number of near-death experiences for a seventeen year old, but at the risk of rehashing old arguments, a lot of that could've been avoided if he'd just turned me the first time I asked.

I've broken things off with my vampire ex-boyfriend a couple times before, usually for about the same reasons, but this time it's different. I think he's noticed it too. I'm not grieving anymore, not holing myself up in my room listening to sad music watching every gray day pass me by. I've talked to my friends, then to my dad, and they're on my side. My dad took a little longer to come around, but it helped that his best friend's son went through the same thing. It's good to have people around who want to support me, not just protect me.

My vampire ex-boyfriend didn't want me to be a vampire like him. He didn't want me to have sex, with him or anyone else. He didn't want me to go out with my friends without him there, but he also didn't want to come along. He didn't want me to go out after dark. He didn't want me to cut my hair. But he liked me, he really liked me. He liked that I didn't ever show much skin even in the summer. He liked that I didn't have any real hobbies or passions so that he could be the one to introduce me to music and fine art and literature. He liked that I kept my innermost thoughts so buried that they were a secret even to me.

I don't know for sure if I want to be a vampire anymore. I think I might, or at the very least I want to keep my options open, but it doesn't feel as urgent now that I know there are other ways to change myself. I used to think I needed it to be close to him. He was so beautiful, is so beautiful. My vampire ex-boyfriend, with his serious, brooding stare and his model chin and his body carved from the center of a pale diamond, his chiseled angles sharp enough to cut with just a glance. And then me beside him, with my long mousy hair and my fragile frame hidden beneath overlarge shirts and jeans when even a knee-length skirt made me feel too exposed. For all his sanguineous habits, I was the parasite, and he was the genuine article, and maybe that's why it hurt so much to have him reject me again and again. All I ever wanted was to burrow into his colorless skin, to feel what it was like to be strong and unyielding. My vampire ex-boyfriend hated his perfect body. He waxed poetic about my warmth, my softness. Maybe we were more alike than I thought in the end.

I load my old pickup truck full of lumber and nails and feel pleased by how much easier it is now that I've started to put on a little muscle. Working with my hands makes me feel more grounded in my body, so dad's enlisted my help in some of his DIY projects around the house. My collection of bandages is growing, from splinters and slips and the occasional dropped hammer, but my coordination grows a fraction less abysmal each day, and if I spill blood there's no one there to wince and whine about it.

I put a lock on my bedroom window. I pin photographs to my wall documenting my changes from month to month. Dad shows me how to shave without cutting myself, despite my insistence that if I could figure out my legs I can figure out my face. I smile more days than I don't. I still turn my head in the same direction when I hear a loud crack from beyond the treeline that's not quite thunder. I still visit his family, when he's not around. In another life I know his parents would've treated me like one of their own.

Just as I'm climbing into the driver's seat I hear a voice from the shadows, whispering the name of a stranger. I drive away. I've got no more interest in raising the dead.

[buckydeservesthebest]

OK quirky Bucky theory time. You ready? We never see Bucky clean-shaven after TFA. He always has a stubble, a bit of scruff around the chin or sports a proper beard as in Wakanda.

At first I wondered if our boy was just lazy or didn't have much of a self-grooming routine (obviously nothing in HYDRA days) but now I don't think its that at all.

I think that instead, on the rare occasions he does shave, his facial hair grows back absurdly quickly because of the healing factor of his serum. Like probably within a day or two.

So, whenever he tries to shave his body is like **damage is being done! I must heal this!!!** and goes into overdrive to grow hair back.

This must have been frustrating when he first escaped HYDRA, before he realized it was better to just let the stubble do its own thing.

Hi dear Anon! Thank you very much for sharing your interesting theory!

This is a curiosity I often think about... Apparently Bucky's hair and beard length has been a bit unconscious over time...

I mean, Bucky was under HYDRA's control for 70 years, but his hair length only reached his neck, this is indicative that Bucky spent most of that time in cryostasis, which slowed down his metabolism and probably made his hair grow slower.

But I wonder what happened to his beard then? Why didn't it grow as long as his hair? Did HYDRA shave him? I really doubt that was the case, why would they do that? They have no reason to...

Now, we know that after CA:TWS Bucky was free for 2 years, but his hair and beard don't seem to have grown any longer. Is it just a plot hole? It's funny, but if you notice Bucky's hair is a bit longer at the beginning of CW, in the Bucharest fight, than in the Berlin prison escape. And this is for no other reason than because the Berlin prison scene was filmed before the Bucharest scene, and as the filming of the movie went on, Sebastian's hair grew. So, at the end of the day, the variation in Bucky's hair length in CW is a Marvel inconsistency...

Well, after this, Bucky was in rehab in Wakanda for 2 more years, and now his hair and beard seemed to grow consistently in this time.

It's also true that the rate of hair growth varies from person to person, for example Steve never had any trace of a beard apart from Infinity War, did he shave all the time? It's possible, or just that his hair grows slower than Bucky's...

But speaking especially of why there isn't a moment in TFATWS where Bucky is totally shaved, I think that just as in IW and Endgame Bucky hadn't cut his hair, this is a reflection of how he feels deep down...

His hair is intimately connected to the time of the Winter Soldier, and by that time (in IW and Endgame) Bucky still felt unsettled, he didn't feel recovered...

And as we saw in TFATWS, Bucky still feared that a part of the WS was still there, which breaks my heart because this isn't it... But the point is that maybe our boy never ended up readopting the look he had in the 40's because he no longer feels like the man he was back then.

It's not just like Steve said "the man he was froze 70 years ago and someone else came out in his place", the dissociation Bucky feels towards his past self is based on trauma and self-loathing, which makes this subject heartbreaking..

That's why I prefer your theory, it's not emotionally painful at least...

[tragedybunny]

Hey but WHO WOULD CUT ASTARION'S HAIR? Cuz we all know and love his perfect hairdo, but as someone with short hair, it's HELLA HARD to maintain it at "hot sixties working dad" (like that gelled up Superman look lol, I don't have any other description) and not "cow licked chin length bangs and untouched sheep wool behind", and it grows into that in MONTHS. Because he would hardly be able to do it himself with no mirror. NOT SAYING THAT LONG HAIR ASTARION WOULDN'T BE HOT, THE WHOLE FANDOM IS DROOLING OVER THE BAND ASTARION STUFF, but I don't think he'd let it grow that long during the game's events

What's your thought on Astarion getting a haircut? Does elf hair just grow extremely slow?? Sounds depressing, honestly. How would he cut his hair? Who would he let cut his hair?

(so sorry if I'm bugging your ask box, PLEASE answer the messes I send you AT YOUR OWN PACE. I'm just currently sick, have time, and am full of ideas for a moment and are really excited to have someone to chat about BG3 about??)

(Yes, that is a threat.)

Whewh this got longer than I anticipated...

Now I'm wondering if vampires have hair that grows???? Does it??

So, if it does, my main theory is the spawn helped groom each other. Despite they're issues between the group, better they all have a shot at succeeding.

So I'm guessing eventually Astarion comes grumbling to Tav to please help him out and don't say anything.

If Tav is a romance, then they are pretty much obligate to look after his hair. It comes with the territory. If not romanced, they are the most capable in the camp so....

I like to think later in a relationship, it becomes a bit of a beloved ritual. Astarion showing how much he trusts his partner by letting them care for his hair. (You know he knows it's one of his best features), and Tav enjoying caring for him.

And someday, when Tav is gone, maybe he lets it grow out because he can't really stand to let anyone else touch it.

[whitepeachrum]

Mirepoix

Fandom: Hetalia (personified) Pairing: Arthur x Kat (EngUkr/UkrEng) Content Length: Short (~500 words)

A sleepy Arthur shuffled into the kitchen, drawn by the comforting aroma of a simmering stock and the enticing view of the lovely woman making it. He walked up behind Kat and wrapped his arms around her, giving her cheek a soft kiss, then resting his chin on the crook of her neck.

“Mm. Good morning, love.”

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” He closed his eyes, still feeling sleepy. “What is my beautiful wife up to this morning?”

“Well, I decided to start making some soup early so we can have something warm for lunch.”

“It's too early for soup, love.” Kat glanced at the time on the stove and noticed it was indeed a bit early from her usual start to the morning. She looked at him and put her hands on his.

“It is. And?”

“Come back to bed with me. It's so cold without you.”

“It is quite cold this morning, isn’t it?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, then, why don't I finish cutting up some of the vegetables first, and then I’ll join you again? Hm?”

“Couldn't you do this later?” Arthur pouted, tugging at Kat's heartstrings.

“You’ll enjoy it more if it simmers longer.”

“But I don't want soup. I want you.”

“Mmm. Could you give me a couple of minutes first?”

“Kat..” He whined softly, wanting to do nothing but cuddle together. His hands were getting cold and he needed to warm them up soon.

She turned around to give him a kiss to placate her big baby for a moment. “Go back to bed, I’ll be there soon.”

Arthur sighed loudly, not wanting to let her go, but feeling the need to lay back down under the covers. He unpeeled himself from her and picked her up, carrying her like he did the night of their wedding. She yelped from the unexpected movement, wrapped her hands around his neck for support, and then laughed at his sudden gesture.

“What are you doing!?”

“I'm taking you with me.”

He carried her up the stairs to their bedroom, and laid her down on the bed, then covered her with the blanket and crawled underneath it, wrapping his arms around her again. So warm…

“Mm. This is nice.”

“You're right.” Kat snuggled up against him. “This is much nicer than soup.” She put her fingers on his lower back, beneath the top of his pajamas, causing him to flinch and groan at the sudden iciness. She giggled softly at his reaction.

“Oh yeah?” Arthur placed the back of his fingers against her neck and she squealed from the way the chill of his knuckles shocked her warm skin. “That's payback for what you did.” He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss that basically said ‘We are even now’.

She placed a warm and sweet kiss back onto his lips and nuzzled her nose into his neck, taking in his natural musk, basking in his warmth, and slowly falling asleep as she listened to his heartbeat thump evenly. He pulled the blanket up to her nose and buried his nose in her hair to keep himself warm too.

“Can you breathe, my love?” he gave her kisses as she fell asleep in his arms.

“Mhm.”

“Perfect.” He dozes off with a smile on his face, a warmth radiating from within, and the love of his life in his arms.

[speakergame]

Hello ! First of all I would like to say that I absolutely love Speaker ! Such a wonderful if ! Second of all I had a question about f!Rory ; she's described as having short hair, but "short" is always kind of vague for me, so I wondered how short are we talking about here ? Chin length short or more near cropped short? I'm sorry, in my language short is a general term and I just wanted to know if I visualized the character correctly 😅 Thank you an hundred times for your story, have a nice day!

that is a very good point! for women anything above the shoulders is generally called "short hair" (and I guess along that same line, for men "long hair" is anything long enough to be in their eyes)

but Rory's hair is cropped really short, in what was called a "pixie cut" when I was a kid but these days even those are longer than I remember. so something like this:

(this is Heather Kemesky, who is gorgeous and is also my favorite faceclaim for f!Rory)

[mieeaahhh]

What haircuts/hairstyles I think the foxes have! (Ignore the faces this is hair only🙅‍♀️)

(Yes some of the pictures are bad and you can barely see some of the hair but it won’t let me put more than ten photos so leave me alone)

(I cut my shaggy pink hair into a chin length bob and hated it)

Anyway😒

Neil Josten

at the beginning of the book I think it would just me some curly mess on top of his head but I think he’d grow it out a bit and it’s kind of a mullet looking shape idek

Maybe a bit more thicker/curlier than the photo I put but it’s the only decent one I could find😒

Andrew Minyard

I don’t even know

Just something like this

Aaron Minyard

Again idk how to explain it but I think it would be similar to Andrews just longer??

I follow this guy on TikTok *shame and fear* and he dresses how I think Aaron would dress LMAO

Kevin Day

To begin with I think it would be very neatly cut and ‘controlled’ but after awhile he grows it out and lets it be messier

Nicky Hemmick

Curly and dyed🗣️🗣️

I think he would have small blonde bits dyed into his hair that aren’t THAT noticeable but are definitely there (I can’t find a photo so use your imagination)

The book says his hair is jet black but I disagree

I also think it would be JUST long enough to put up

Renee Walker

We all know what her hair looks like

Allison Reynolds

Shag thingy

The same way my hair was cut BEFORE I CUT IT ALL OFF😡😡😡🤬🤬🤬😒😒😒

I think she would style it a lot if different ways but mostly I think she’d just straighten it

Dan Wilds

It says in the books that she has short dark hair and I agree🙏🙏🫡🫡

Matt Boyd

SPiKeS SPIKES. SKOYDH

[jedi-princess-kestis]

Shadows of the Force

Chapter 1: The Twins

Warnings: swearing, star wars level warfare, injury.

Word Count: 4K

Summery: The Twins meet The Bad Batch, Captain Rex and the 501s for the first time and take on a new kind of mission.

Two pairs of eyes watched as a ship just about crash landed on the loading zone. They didn't seem impressed with the pilots flying skills, the twins leaning against a few crates as they watched the ship slide to a stop. They were on Anaxes, helping with the battle that had been going on for weeks now. Their armor showed the scraps, burn marks, and dents of war, the paint chipped but they didn't seem to care.

They watched as 4 clones in black and red armor walked off the ship, each one taller than the last. Then they saw Cody walk up to the one with longer hair, a face tattoo and a bandana around his head, grabbing arms in a handshake.

"So what suicide mission are you sending us on this time Cody?" The Sergeant asked Commander Cody. The Grand Marshall nodded his head as he went to answer the Clone.

"First you have 2 other members of this mission you need to meet." Cody told the group. Rex looked over at Jesse and Kix before looking back at Cody.

"Who else did you call Cody?" He asked as he ran a hand over his short blonde hair. Cody smirked and nodded his head at the two shadowy figures standing off in the distance. He raised his hands waving them over. They had their helmets on and right away they could tell they were no clones.

"Mandalorians?" Rex questioned.

"Not just Mandalorians." The one spoke up, a feminine voice speaking from under the helmet. She pulled her helmet off, her long black and platinum white hair falling from the helmet. It was braided into 2 double dutch braids that went back into one thick braid that hung down over her shoulder. Her hair fell down to her hips when lose. Her steel gray eyes looked unnatural, almost glowing. She had softly tanned skin, full lips and a softly shaped nose.

"Shadow Kline of Clan Rook." She said, extending her hand out to shake. Captain Rex shook her hand first and then Jesse and Kix. She then turned to the Bad Batch. "And you must be the Bad Batch. Heard some interesting stories about you boys." She said with a smirk.

The dark and broody one raised an eyebrow before shaking her hand.

"Sergeant Hunter. This here is Tech, Wrecker and Crosshair." He said pointing at each of his brothers.

"This over here is Captain Rex, Jesse and Medic Kix." Cody spoke up, pointing out the other clones standing behind himself. She nodded her head at each of the clones as she learned their names.

"This is my twin sister Scarlett." She waved to the other Mando standing behind her. She pulled off her helmet, showcasing black and red shoulder length hair that was a bit wavy. She had dark hazel eyes that seemed to cut right into your soul. A rifle was strapped to her back, a knife on her thigh. Shadow had two blasters, one on each hip and a knife on her chest plates. Their armor was black with dark purple and soft yellow accents adorning the armor. Their helmets had purple and yellow swirls and lines as well. They both wore black kama with a yellow and purple Vexis embroidered onto the right hip.

"Don't let them fool you boys. This is Lieutenants Shadow and Scarlett Kline, Special Ops Unit. These two are deadlier than they look." Cody said laced with pride. Shadow smiled at the Commander as he spoke.

"What makes you so special?" Crosshair snapped at them. Scarlett glared at the tall, linky clone and tilted her chin up.

"Cause we are clones." She hissed in a tone that matched his. The group looked around at each other, trying to wrap their minds around this news.

"Clones?" Rex spoke up, confusion written all over his face. Shadow wanted to slam a hand to her face but she kept her cool. She glared at her twin for a second before turning to the group.

"Yes, clones. But not from the same donor as you. Our mother was next in line as clan leader of Clan Rook. But our parents couldn't have a child. So our mother had herself cloned in order to have an Heir. She got twin girls who were also genetically modified. Meaning like the Bad Batch, we have enhanced abilities to become the next generation of Mandalorian soldiers."

Shadow looked at Hunter while she talked, seeming to feel the need to watch his expression as she spoke. His eyes seemed to hold questions only she could see. They way he stood, holding himself made it seem like nothing could phase him, but she knew better. She could feel the shift in his muscles, his breathing, the way his body reacted to her words.

"Now… the mission?" Scarlett spoke up. "I don't know about you boys, but I'm not looking to stand around for a chit chat." A roll of her eyes followed her statement.

"Let's get going. We'll brief you on the way." Cody said, pointing to the gunship that was waiting for them. The group of soldiers walked to the ship and hopped inside, grabbing the support straps that hung down for them. Shadow tucked her helmet under her arm standing next to Rex and her sister with Kix behind her. She saw Jesse and Crosshair glaring at each other, Crosshair moving his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other as he sent a death glare to the trooper.

"What are you looking at?" Jesse snapped at the snipper, a hint of anger in his eyes. Crosshair pulled the toothpick from his mouth and flicked it at the soldier.

"We don't usually work with "regs." He hissed in a cold tone.

"Regs?!" Jesse growled.

"He's talking about regular clones. But don't take it personal." Hunter stepped in, trying to keep the peace between the clones. Shadow felt the energy swirling and racing around the men, their anger on full display to her. She took a deep breath pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Males." She thought to herself.

"We're all on the same team, so cut the attitude and listen up." She snapped at the men, her voice holding a bite to it. The group fell silent so Rex cleared his voice and spoke up.

"Here's the mission. Our target is this Cyber Center. It's the "brains" of the entire Separatist campaign here on Anaxes." He said pulling up a Holo map. He pointed to the building that showed up. The group took a good hard look at it, then Wrecker spoke up.

"I could demolish that with one hand! Yeah!"

Shadow smiled at the large man, finding his love of blowing things up amusing.

"This isn't a demo job, Wrecker. It's strictly a retrieval operation." pointed out Rex, much to Wrecker's disappointment. Shadow looked up to find Hunter watching her. She stood up a bit straighter. His eyes seemed to be searching her as if he was trying to read her mind. She raised an eyebrow at him watching him duck his head to the side having been caught staring. She smiled lightly to herself before she felt a boot tab her on the leg. She turned her head and saw Scarlett giving her a look. Shadow just shrugged and faced forward again.

Boom!

"What the Kriff?!" Shadow screeched as her body slammed back Into the wall of the ship.

"Incoming fire! We're going down!" The pilot's voice fills the ship as it launches forward again, sending Rex, Cody, Scarlett and Shadow into each other and Jesse and Kix fall to the floor behind them.

Boom!

Another explosion tore through the ship as it spun before smacking into the ground below. Shadow was thrown from the ship, her back and right side smacking onto the stony ground, the air being forced from her body. Her head felt lightheaded as she tried to take a deep breath. Her ears were ringing loudly, her heart pounding under her ribs. She rolled into her side, feeling pain slowly fill her body but nothing felt broken.

"We always get shot down when we travel with regs!" Crosshair's voice filled the air as he stood up, dusting himself off. She looked around, seeing Wrecker helping her sister stand up. She felt a hand on her arm and saw Tech standing above her.

"Are you alright Miss?" His voice still sounded far away due to the ringing in her ears. She groaned and let him help her up. She put a hand to her head and looked over to the right, seeing Rex running to the gunship.

"Cody! Help!" His scared voice filled the air around them as he tried to get to his vod.

"He's trapped! We have to do something."

"I'll get him. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." Wrecker said, placing a hand on Rex, pushing him back towards Hunter as he walked to the ship.

"Easy, Captain. Wrecker, get him out." But Hunter's words fell on deaf ears as he tried to hold the Captain back.

"Get back! This is ridiculous! He's gonna need help to get Cody out of there."

Crosshair stepped up and looked at Rex as he spoke. "He's gonna get the gunship out of there. Not Cody."

Now this confused Shadow. What in the world did that mean? She leaned against Tech still as he helped her move closer to her sister. She nodded to Scarlett when she saw her raise an eyebrow, letting her know she would be fine. They watched as Wrecker picked up the gunship and literally flipped in off Cody. The ship rocked back and forth as he picked up the Clone Commander.

"Boom." Wrecker said as he started walking away from the ship with Cody in hand. The ship then exploded, the flames reaching high into the night air. Shadow turned away a bit, shielding her eyes from the bright flames. Wrecker laid Cody onto the ground and Rex and Kix raced to his side as he groaned and whined in pain. Kix ran a device over his body looking for damage.

"He has internal damage." Kix said reaching into his medpack from a shot as he spoke. "I can cut the pain. But he needs help fast." He looked to Rex before giving Cody a shot of pain meds.

"We all need help. That blast gave away our position." Hunter said as he looked around at the group, his eyes finding Shadow's before looking back to Rex.

"I thought getting shot down gave away our position." Sassed Scarlett. Hunter gave her a look that did nothing to make her lose her attitude.

"Everyone, Find cover!" Shadow cut in, pointing to a group of battle droids walking their way.

Rex stood up and looked over at the large group marching their way. "We'll hold this position and let them come to us." He said as he looked to Jesse and Kix to help get Cody to the other side of the ship for some cover. Shadow reached for a blaster, itching to blow something up after all that.

Hunter raised a hand as he turned to look at his brothers. "I don't think so, Captain. That's not our style." He then looked back at the droids.

"We prefer going to them."

"Bad Batch! Plan 82, "Shockwave!"' Hunter called out as they pulled on their helmets. Wrecker picked up a large chuck of the gunship that was lying on the ground and stepped in front of his brothers. Shadow took a step forward, trying to figure out what exactly they had planned.

"Is that smart?!" She called out as they took off running for the droids. She watched as they got closer before Wrecker slammed the hunk of metal upright into the ground, making a wall for them to hide behind. Crosshair started shooting at the droids as Hunter threw a Droid Popper into the air. Crosshair snapped up his gun, hitting the popper making a wave of droids fall to the ground. Shadow was impressed at this. She had never seen something like this before. She took another step closer, coming up to stand with Rex as they watched Clone Force 99 do what they were famous for.

"Have you ever seen a group work like that before?" She asked as she watched Hunter slashing and cutting down droids with his knife. The way he moved, jumping and swirling around them as if it was some sort of dance to him. Her body felt a rash of energy as she watched him, as if something was pulling at her trying to show her something. She never felt anything like it before. Never felt a pull towards someone like this before. Soon all the droids were destroyed and the batch walked back towards the group, Hunter spinning his knife between his fingers before sliding it back into the holder on his arm.

"That was some show you put on just now."

"Just doing our job, Captain." Hunter answered. He looked over at Shadow and frowned a bit. "You alright? You're bleeding." He said taking a step closer to her. She reached up and felt blood on her face and realized that her lip was bleeding and she had a small cut in her forehead. She waved a hand and looked up at him.

"I'm fine. I've had worse than this." She hummed before looking over at Wrecker picking on Crosshair with a Droid head.

"Hey, look, Crosshair, this little clanker likes you." He said, pushing the droid into his face. Crosshair pushed the droid away and sneered up at his larger brother.

"Grow up Wrecker." He said bitterly.

Shadow smiled and chuckled, finding Wrecker annoying the snipper funny. She looked over at her twin only to find Scarlett staring at Crosshair, a slight blush to her cheeks. That was new. Her sister never showed interest in a man before. She never saw her blush before now that she thought about it. What brought this on?

"We should move out before reinforcements arrive. Our position has been compromised." Rex's voice cut through her thoughts, making her jump slightly. She turned to look at the blonde haired Captain and nodded. She made sure Jesse and Kix had Cody before falling into step behind Rex as he led the group away from the battle behind them. They started making their way into the hills, trying to find a place to lay low for a bit till someone could come for Cody.

As they walked on Shadow realized Hunter fell into step with her, matching her pace. He seemed to be deep in thought as he looked ahead. "You seem lost in thought there, Sergeant." She said in a hushed voice. She watched as his dark honey eyes found hers and it was like the air in her lungs rushed from her body. This was something she never felt before. That pull she felt earlier started tugging at her mind again and she tried to ignore it. She didn't know what it meant.

"Hmmm. Just… thinking about what you said earlier. About how you are like… me.. my brothers. Different I guess." He shrugged his shoulders after he spoke, looking forward again. Shadow thought over his words for a moment before speaking up.

"I can manipulate shadows and darkness, making myself blend in better, making it as if I wasn't even there. My senses are enhanced, like yourself. I can feel everything around me. Hear, smell, taste every small detail. It's like a wave, a river of energy floating and swirling around me, telling me what's going on or what's happened before I even see it." She paused for a moment to take a breath. Hunter was hanging onto her words, soaking them in as if they were water and he was a dying man.

She looked at him and smiled softly before going on. "I have enhanced flexibility and hand to eye, making me very hard to beat in hand to hand." Hunter smiled at this, seeming to find it appealing that she was good at hand to hand. She likes seeing him smile, the way his tattoo moved with his muscles in his face.

"What about your sister? What can she do?" He asked curiously.

"Ahhhhh. Well. She has enhanced eyesight, speed, and reflexes. She has an enhanced mind, specifically in military strategy and weapons. She can have a bomb or gun apart and back together in under a minute with how fast she thinks. She is honestly one of the best snipers I know. She has a perfect aim." She boosted about her twin. She was proud about who they were and what they could do in service to the Republic and the honor it bright her clan.

"Remind me to never be on the other end of a fight with you two then." He joked lightly to her. Shadow smiled and shook her head. She looked back at her sister who seemed to strike up a conversation with Crosshair about his rifle. Hunter looked over his shoulder at the pair and raised an eyebrow as he saw Crosshair actually talking. "Huh."

Shadow turned her eyes to look at the broody clone. "What?"

Hunter looked back at her and seemed like he was still surprised at what he saw behind him. "I've never seen Crosshair actually look happy to be speaking to someone before. It's… weird."

Shadow hummed and nodded her head. "Scarlett is not that most… approachable person either. Though people seem to think I'm the colder of the two, just from… well my eyes, my hair, the way I hold myself."

"The look of a leader who has seen more than her share in life." His words stunned her. She never heard someone say it like that before. Like he understood just how much her life twisted and turned since a young age, that it never slowed down and she had to make choices that changed her life in many ways. It was like he looked right into her soul and knew everything that she went through to keep herself and her sister alive to fight another day in this war.

"Yeah… eyes that have seen so much inna short amount of time I guess." She said softly before looking ahead to Rex, Jesse and Kix trying to keep Cody moving. The two soldiers soon fell quiet but it was a nice and calming type. They walked side by side for a while following the Captain as he looked for a place to rest. They walked for another hour or so till they found a small grove of trees at the base of a hill. Jesse soon for a fire going as Wrecker grabbed logs to place around the fire for them to sit on. Jesse, Kix, Shadow and Scarlett sat on one side of the fire as the batch sat on the other side. Cody was laying off to the side, holding his chest in pain as Rex tried to keep him calm as he called in for a rescue crue. Hunter got up and walked past Shadow as he made his way into the darkest, bending down now and again, feeling the dirt and looking around him.

Jesse was eating as he looked out at Hunter. He took a bite of food before elbowing Kix. "So, I get what makes the other Batchers unique, but what's so special about Hunter?" He asked his vod. Kix shrugged his shoulders before saying

"He can put up with the other three."

Jesse and Kix laughed and Shadow shook her head at them, a soft smile playing on her face.

"He was engineered with heightened senses. A place like the Cyber Center, Hunter can feel the electromagnetic frequencies from anywhere on the planet." Tech spoke up looking up from his Holopad for the first time in hours. Shadow looked back over at Hunter and knew he was trying to find a clue, a sign of which way they were supposed to be going.

"And here I thought we were smart just using a holomap." Jesse said with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, maps can be wrong. Hunter never is." Tech said, seeming to miss the sarcasm in Jesse's voice. Scarlett rolled her eyes beside Shadow and leaned forward a bit.

"Shadow is never wrong either. If she says something is gonna happen or we need to move I don't question it. She is never wrong when it comes to her enhancements." The colder of the two Mandalorians said as she looked into the fire blazing in front of her. "So if she doesn't agree with Hunter I will follow her without question." She said looking Tech as she spoke the last part.

Rex was off to the side, bearing everything that was being said. "Hang in there Cody." He said with a pat to his vod's shoulder.

"Listen up. We have to move out. Commander Cody's in no position to move. Already called in Evac. Kix will stay with Cody until it arrives. I'm in charge now. And I've got a plan to get into that Cyber Center." He addressed the group as he moved closer to the fire, looking them each in the eye as he spoke.

"If your plans are so good, why did Commander Cody have to call us in?" Sneared Crosshair as he mouthed off to Rex.

"You can't talk to Captain Rex like that!" Jesse said standing up and pushing Crossaid in his chest plates, sending the tall Clone stumbling backwards. Shadow gasped as Wrecker picked up Jesse and held him up in the air. Kix tried to push his way forward, only to be pushed back by Tech. Scarlett jumped up and so did Shadow, a hand flying to her blaster. She watched as Rex tried to get Wrecker to drop Jesse but failed. Hunter came rushing over and grabbed Wrecker's arm. Jesse soon dropped to the ground and Kix helped him up.

"Fellas, come on! We're all fighting for the same thing, right?" Hunter snapped at his brothers trying to regain some control. They soon nodded and Jesse and Kix nodded their heads too. Shadow saw Rex letting out a breath of air. She felt sorry for the Captain.

"All right then. Let's cut the chatter and finish what we started." Hunter then turned to Rex and said "We'll do it your way, Captain. For Commander Cody."

Shadow saw Rex give Hunter a look of gratitude before speaking to the others once more. "Okay. Let's gear up and move out."

Shadow reached for her pack and felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up she met the eyes of her twin. "One way or another these guys are gonna need to learn to get along…. Or we are all going to end up like Cody or worse."

Shadow nodded her head and cast a glance around the men grabbing their gear. "I agree. The Bad Batch doesn't seem to play well with normal Clones. Though Hunter seems to be the only one open minded about working with them. Or us for that matter." She stated as she pulled on her pack. "I just hope they get their shit together before we have to get involved." The twins smiled at each other before sharing a chuckle. She glanced over at Hunter who was already looking her way. She felt the pull at her mind and body again and a shiver rolled up her spine.

"Something tells me this mission is going to go differently than any of us have planned for." She sighed before walking away from the fire with the others, leaving Kix and Cody to wait for pick up back to base. She looked over her shoulder one last time at the fire slowly growing smaller behind her and placed a hand on her blaster. "Let's go kill some droids." She said look at her twin before walking off after the others again.

Masterlist

[sonic-love-island-official]

Knuckles (Bio/Character design ramble)

Here he comes, rougher than the rest of them: Knuckles !!

More info under the cut, as per x

Knuckles is a 26 year old from Angel Island. Guardian of the Master Emerald, Knuckles lives relatively isolated from the mainland, rarely leaving the island for anything. He joins the show as a challenge for himself to branch out, live a little and find a potential long-term partner.

To put it simply, Knuckles arrives with a lot to navigate. He's never experienced such a complicated social situation in his life before and he's tasked with learning how to act around the other Islanders, which leads him to be very unfaithful to himself and his personality. Even though he's working out social dilemmas and how to present himself, Knuckles is still a very genuine guy and does nothing if he doesn't mean it. Both laid-back and short-tempered, he finds himself in a bit of trouble on more than one occasion, providing lessons for him going forward.

Trying different faces on, testing the waters and making mistakes, Knuckles needs to learn the value of being his true self and nothing else.

External design choices !! (visual appearance - incl. formation of base sim, references taken, makeup choices, fashion style... etc.)

I only wish I could remember any of the steps I made to create Knuckles' sim. But... By the looks of it, I think I might be able to guess where my head was at with some of the decisions around his design ?? Again, he doesn't look near to what I imagine him to look like, but at the end of the day, as long as they resemble enough of the character we're trying to portray, that's enough for me.

Firstly, I know for sure his SA2 model was used for inspiration and that was a deliberate, memorable choice. Because look at him !! SA2 Knuckles was so distinct to me, not only in how he acted but his features in this game are peak (also why tf is this his only portrayal where he has more melanin ?? huh ??). Needless to say, SA2 Knuckles is a personal favourite of mine in every way, shape and form, and that's basically why I picked that model to base Sim Knuckles off.

Hence why he has a warmer, darker skin tone than what's seen in other Knuckles models. I did my best to match it up as close as possible, and while not exact, it's pretty darn close that I'm no longer so fussy about it.

Knuckles striking red colour went straight to his hair, as per the majority of the sim versions. But, unlike the rest, Knuckles red hair is (allegedly /j) natural. The SLI world has a trend of people dying their hair all kinds of funky colours, but Knuckles isn't one of them, so his hair, brows and body hair are all this shade of red that he inherited from his ancestors (this, among a few other features pull relevance in-plot later). Regrettably, we didn't have anything close to his dreadlocks in-game (one of my FAVOURITE parts of Knuckles' design), so we had to settle for this shoulder-length, half-up-half-down hairstyle. Of course, we try to make up for it by drawing him with them wherever possible, because his dreads are NOT going to be lost on us no matter how limited we are in this game. Another hair related detail that became more of a recent development, is Knuckles having facial hair (not present on his sim, because naturally the game does not have anything close) — you know, just a bit of chin fluff. No reason, just vibes :)

Knuckles doesn't have the same round eyes as what Sonic or Amy have, but isn't so harshly angled like Shadow's, so it was about finding that happy medium with Knux. And you know what ? His eyes are purple, pretty and I can't complain, he's such a cutie <3

I can't say much about his facial structure. I'm going to assume I had a vision, but I don't remember what in the world it was.

Naturally, Knuckles being Knuckles, is definitely more buff than the likes of Sonic or Tails. Bro works out — he's dedicated to that stuff — so that just had to be translated over to his sim. Ain't no more to say about that :)

Another thing absent from his sim version (limitations again, grr) is the idea that Knuckles has cultural tattoos, most prominently the crescent moon on his chest. In some screenshots (not seen here), Knuckles has a tattoo representative of M.E. as well.

As for his fashion style ? Hoo boy. Despite making the occasional, heinous fashion crime, Knuckles is actually pretty styling ! Knuckles suits all sorts of things and his style has a uniqueness none of the other Islanders have. More often than not though, Knuckles is seen in colourful/patterned tees, sweater singlets, cargo pants, baggy jeans and sneakers, along with a chain necklace (and maybe a bracelet and/or ring). Knuckles claims he isn't fashionable, but I beg to differ. He's probably one of the best dressed boys in the villa by far.

Internal design choices !! (personality, characteristics, psychology)

Here's where things get messy. Stated before in previous posts, characterisation isn't strict. All the characters are a blend of a multitude of portrayals across Sonic media and Knuckles is no different. But where each character is a cohesive blend, Knuckles very evidently has two, polar opposite ways of expressing himself, which I've haphazardly labelled:

'Funny-funny, I'm trying to fit in, please like me' Knuckles (that my sister primarily writes for)

And,

'Serious' Knuckles (that I tend to write for)

Like I've said in countless posts before, and in this one, Knuckles is trying to figure out who to be around people. The sillier side of Knuckles is heavily derived from his Sonic Boom characterisation, but is used in a self-aware sense. A lot of fans don't like this caricature version of Knuckles (me included, but I kind of regard Boom! Knuckles as a separate entity at this point and I personally enjoy his character better that way. Also, Boom is really its own continuity anyway, and I enjoyed the show as it was intended. It's another each to their own, I guess), but we've utilised this version of him with intention. AU Knuckles uses this comedic, faux stupidity to make himself interesting to others. This side of him carves a presence in the Villa, and he finds more people are willing to engage with someone entertaining. So the persona sticks.

'Serious' Knuckles is the more true (?) Knuckles. He's the game canon Knuckles, beloved for his steely disposition and golden heart. This is the Knuckles that is both a hothead and cool as a cucumber. He's the one loyal to his duties, to his friends. The one that cares for people, animals, land. He's the guy that could pack a punch if he wanted. Knuckles knows far more than he wants to let on. He's very in tune with people's energy and emotions and a lot of this knowledge makes him quite intelligent, though no one seems to notice.

Despite both these parts of him, Knuckles plays true to his feelings, whatever they may be, and whichever tracks it leads him down. He's not a fake guy at all !! He's just convinced himself what he's doing is the best course of action, even when it may not be.

Overall, Knuckles is a fun character to play around with ! He seems fairly shallow on the surface, but then, digging deeper, there's far more intricacies to his character. Knuckles provides a lot of things to work with in terms of his personality, background, knowledge and actions. I love how his character also explores different things to the other Islanders, due to those aspects.

Fun facts / trivia :

Knuckles loves to sing ! There's many moments throughout the series where he has sung songs alone or with other contestants. Knuckles is trying to make this series a musical (but I won't let him ! /j)

He likes to express his culture and does so wherever and whenever he can. It's very important to him <3

[keicordelle]

The Daily Inconveniences of an Au Ra: Aging

Keshet peered at his reflection in the mirror, tilting his chin just so until he could see the scales that crawled up his neck and over his jaw. Swaths of skin peeked between the black, brown eddies and swirls of vulnerability tucked between the encroaching plates. Were the patches between his scales smaller than they were before?

Maybe. He couldn't really tell. The spikes on his chin and the jut of his horns made it difficult to see his own neck, let alone try to examine it in detail. He dragged a finger along the narrow patch of exposed skin on the side of his throat, trying to judge if the rough edge of scales rubbed further in along the pad of his finger than it used to.

"Cut yourself while shaving?" a wry voice asked, and if Keshet really had been holding a razor, he would have slit his damned throat with how hard he jumped. He twisted to find Thancred standing in the doorway, hip cocked and arms crossed over his chest as he leaned in the frame. Laughter twinkled in his eyes as he watched Keshet's reaction, but he was polite enough not to comment.

Keshet grimaced at him. "Of course not. Do you think these scales are denser than they used to be?"

Thancred squinted at his neck, tilting his head and chewing on his lip for a long moment before offering an easy shrug. "I don't know. I'm not in the habit of staring at your neck."

"What about my horns? Do you think they're longer?"

"Uh, no? What's gotten into you? Did you find a grey hair or something?"

Thancred was not actually expecting the muttered, "Something like that," he received in response.

"Wait, really? How would you ever know, in all that hair?"

"Au Ra don't go grey," Keshet explained absentmindedly, poking at the caps on his horns. Was it just his imagination or were they more snug than they used to be? "Well, we do, but not as early as you do. But our scales and our horns never stop growing, so you can judge our age based on how much skin we still have exposed or by the length of our horns. Old Au Ra end up practically covered in scales, and their horns can get so long it causes health problems. Never been much of an issue among my people, since we don't usually make it to old age, but I've seen some of the elders of the other tribes, so I know what to look for."

"Uh...huh. And you're worried you're getting old all of a sudden?"

Keshet looked up from his own reflection long enough to frown at Thancred. "Not worried. Just... noticing. It's been no small number of years now since I came to Eorzea, but I'm only just now realizing how much that time has changed me. Inside and out."

Thancred's expression softened. "Ah. Well, if it makes you feel any better, you'll always be a young whippersnapper by my standards. Hell, I'm another 5 years older than you now than I was when we met! And unless you go spending all your free time on other shards without us, I don't think you're likely to catch up any time soon." Keshet chuckled, a paltry, half-hearted sound, but he didn't look quite as concerned as he had a moment ago, so Thancred counted it as a win. "But... if you ever want to talk, I'm here," he added gently.

"Thanks," Keshet said, offering him a half-smile. After a beat, the other corner of his mouth quirked up as well, and he grinned. "Besides, next to a bunch of white- and grey-haired cronies like you all, I'm bound to look like the youngest forever."

-

Read the rest of the series on Ao3!

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[indigolover97]

We Started It

Chapter 1: Set Me Free

The day that Kim Taehyung’s life changed for the better he was utterly bored. He walks with lazy steps and slouched posture as he follows behind Peakboy to their meeting with the Bulletproof Company. Inside the conference room he places himself in his assigned seat, spinning slowly around in it while they wait for the men to arrive.

He’s already wanting to return to his room and find something to occupy his mind before the meeting has even started. He rolls his eyes at Peakboy’s glare as his chair spins him into view, but doesn’t stop his slow circles even at the warning scold he gets. He barely glances up when the door opens and the announcement of the Bulletproof Company’s Leader and Second is given.

“The Rap Monster of Ilsan and Agust-D of Daegu have arrived,” Kang drones at the door before bowing and allowing the two men to enter.

Taehyung doesn’t rise with the rest of the table as they stand to bow to the men as they enter, just continues his lazy circles in his chair.

“You honor us with your presence,” Peakboy greets, gesturing for them to sit at the two empty seats.

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” A deep voice respondes, Taehyung glances at the men as his chair brings them into view.

They’re younger than he had expected, their unmarked faces a rarity in the underground. The cat-like eyes of the blonde one catches Taehyung’s spinning and narrows his eyes as Taehyung just stares impassively before turning away.

“I apologize for our youngest’s behavior,” Peakboy apologizes, bowing to the men again and kicking Taehyung’s chair to stop his spinning. “He’s very hard to keep entertained.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes as he turns his chair to face the table of men and crosses his arms over his chest as he stays put.

“You don’t have to apologize,” the dark haired one dismisses with a wave of his hand. “I hear that you are the man to come to when you need to contract one of the best hackers in the business.”

“You’ve heard correctly,” Peakboy boasts, puffing up his chest. “We take great pride in having Vante of Daegu in our crew. What do you need him for?”

“To find an assassin,” the blonde one answers, his voice even deeper than his counterpart. His eyes flicker over to Taehyung’s bored ones.

“I see,” Peakboy muses, placing his elbows on the table and bringing the tips of fingers together under his chin. “What will you pay for his services?”

“What’s your price?” The dark haired one asks, folding his ringed fingers on the dark surface.

Peakboy shrugged, “That depends on how long the job is, you’re taking our best after all. It’ll put us behind on a lot of other contracts by parting from him for even a month's worth of time. There’s no telling how much we’ll lose if you take him for longer.”

Taehyung scoffed quietly, turning his head away to look down at the dark wood flooring. He hated being talked about when he was in the room and to be spoken about like he was some object to be played with.

“We can cover the cost of any lost contracts, we don’t have an estimate on the length of this mission.” The blonde one explained, pulling a contract out from his briefcase and slid it down the table.

Peakboy moved to take it but Taehyung was faster, his long fingers picked up the folder and began flicking through the pages. His eyes glaze over the legal terms, a smirk forming on his face as he spies the lack of loopholes for Peakboy to exploit.

“We’ll need some time to…” Peakboy started to say but is cut off by Taehyung’s scoff.

“I’ll take the job,” he says, lowering the contract to look at the men. “I don’t care how much you pay them, I’ll take it.”

“And you are?” The blonde man challenged, raising his brow at him.

Taehyung smirked and pulled a pen out of his pocket, signing his signature over the last page before sliding it back down. “I am Vante of Daegu, I’m the one you came for.”

The man picked up the contract with long pale fingers, not even glancing over them as he placed it back inside his briefcase. “We’ll send you a copy, along with the first payment later today. Are you prepared to leave?”

Taehyung nodded and stood, “Let me just pack my bags, I’ll meet you at the entrance.”

He ignores Peakboy’s shout for him as he leaves the room, makes his way back to his quarters and starts packing. The men are waiting for him and gesture for him to place his bags into their trunk before stepping into their SUV. Taehyung follows behind them and slides into the seat that faces the two men before the door is closed.

“I’m Kim Namjoon, the Leader of the Bulletproof Company,” the dark haired man greets, holding a hand out for Taehyung to shake.

Taehyung takes it, “Kim Taehyung, I prefer using my name over Vante.”

“Min Yoongi, Second in Command.” The blonde one says with a nod, folding his arms across his chest as he peers at Taehyung with doubtful eyes. “How do we know you’re the real deal?”

Taehyung shrugs, crossing his own arms over his chest. “I don’t make promises before knowing what I’m facing, or who I’m looking for. You’ll just have to trust that I know what I’m doing, I didn’t just piss off my boss for nothing.”

“No,” Yoongi muses, clicking his tongue. “You did that because you were bored, but I suppose we’ll see what you’re made of.”

“That you will,” Taehyung purrs, smirking at the man’s glare. “I’ll be worth the money, trust me.”

“We’ll see,” Yoongi huffs, pulling his phone out from his pocket, ending the conversion. Taehyung just smiles and looks out the window as they pass the gates of the Hwarang Boys’ homebase. The ever present ache in his chest eases a bit after they pass through and start making their way down the highway.

Taehyung only hopes that this contract with the Bulletproof Company can last as long as it can.