#thinking of that one offical artwork of him right now

[meownotgood]

Drunk Aki... Tongue out Aki... Giving me feels of drunk Aki with his tongue out. Leading to him kissing your neck, chest, feeling odly touching for someone like him and then... Making his waybetween your legs to use his tongue. Periodttttttt.

you understand me anon because whenever I see aki with his tongue out I just think of....... interesting things

aki gets so sloppy whenever he's drunk. his kisses are a clumsy mess of saliva and lips that don't quite connect, his tongue usually ends up halfway down your throat. he pulls away to kiss your face, to trail kisses down your jaw and your neck, his tongue licking stripes over your skin, tasting you, all while his drunken hands struggle to take off your clothes and grip to any bit of bare skin he can find.

he kisses down your stomach, your thighs, parting your legs. he keeps eye contact with you, his eyelids heavy, his gaze filled with lust, and he laps up your slick with his tongue, he swirls the tip around your clit and sucks on it. the alcohol in his system makes you taste way, way sweeter, and aki can't get enough. he drools and spits all over your cunt until your thighs are pressed to his cheeks and you're cumming into his mouth.

[vonlycsnn]

✧ — PICTURE PERFECT

~ VON LYCAON X GENDER NEUTRAL ARTIST! READER.

SUMMARY: You're a famous artist/illustrator in New Eridu, absolutely tired of trying to deal with recent problems. then you decide to call Victoria Housekeeping Co. for some help, it was the best decision of your life.

- cw/tw: none.

- A/N: im so obsessed over this man its genuinely concerning, pls help. also this might be messy/ooc(?)...it's my first time writing this kinda stuff so bare with me.

Being such a well-known artist in New Eridu is tough work. Not only do you have to keep up with your clients' demands and expectations, you also have to deal with thieves trying to steal your work. 

You were thankful that some of your most valuable artworks were in museums that had incredible security, but even so, those bastards are still trying to break into your mansion and steal your canvases that have yet to be delivered or even unfinished.

Understandably, you grew tired of all the stuff you went through, slowly becoming restless from the amount of sleepless nights you had to fight through. To the point where you wanted to quit art completely but you just couldn't. Art was your passion. You've been drawing for nearly your entire life; you couldn't quit now.

Thankfully, a kind client of yours took notice of your situation and recommended Victoria Housekeeping to you. At first you were skeptical; there's no way a housekeeping company could help you with these problems, right?

—

"I don't think they'll be able to help me..." you kindly said. The client merely smiled and gave you a pat on the shoulder.

"Just give them a call. Trust me."

—

And here you are now, constantly being served and protected by the members of Victoria Housekeeping. You were extremely grateful for their service; they've made your life so much better than you expected. 

You've grown so close to them that you became one of their most respected clients, having to be close friends with each of the members. You didn't want to say that you had a favorite attendant, but you do have a preferred one. 

Rina, although her general services are incredible and you'd always find yourself having a great time with her, her culinary skills are...questionable at best, but still, you didn't want to upset her by any means. 

Corin is a sweet girl. When the two of you became acquainted, you saw her as a little sister. Although you were surprised at how strong she is for her age, you didn't think much of it. The problem with her is how much she doubts herself; you'd have to constantly remind her that she's not doing anything wrong, and as much as you hate to admit it, you were pretty annoyed.

Ellen, well...she isn't too enthusiastic about regular housekeeping jobs, not to mention she's always low-energy. But the number of times she saved you from the most dangerous situations was enough for her to gain your respect. Plus, talking about internet trends with her is always fun.

And there's Lycaon. Oh, did you have so many words about him. To keep it simple, he was just right. His services are always near perfect; he has saved you countless times from hollows and thieves; he is elegant; he is a gentleman; you could ramble about him all day for all you cared.

To be perfectly honest, you grew a crush on him. Every time he'd lean behind you to see what you're working on, you'd always freeze in place. Too flustered by what was happening. Every time you'd hear his voice, you'd melt. The way he acts just makes your heart flutter...He was perfect.

As your own personal request for him, you wished he'd spend more time with you. Be it in the mansion or outside. He smiled, bowing down in front of you.

—

"As you wish, master. I'm more than happy to spend time with an amazing artist such as yourself." He said. You saw his tail wagging ever so slightly, but decided to say nothing; you merely smiled.

—

Every now and then he'd come to your office to check on you; he'd bring you food every time you lost track of time; he'd give you a massage whenever you had free time.

"It's always important to maintain a good posture, master." As he would say.

But being an attendant for a full-time artist comes with its own challenges. Other than having to constantly be on guard at night for possible thieves, he'd always let out an irritated sigh whenever he saw your workspace covered in paint. Especially when you're making abstract art. But he understands that art can be messy sometimes, and that's fine.

Every time you get a commission to make abstract art, you'd always rent a workspace outside of the mansion. Just so Lycaon doesn't have to deal with the mess.

But other than that, the two of you were grateful for each other's company.

Much to your dismay, however, your feelings for him grew the longer you spent time with him. You became so close to Lycaon than any of the other attendants; he knew your weakness, he knew your strengths, and he even knew some of your secrets.

You couldn't express your feelings for him with words, and so you did what you knew best: to draw. As a request, you asked Lycaon if you could take a few pictures of him. Of course he obliged. Amidst the photography, he asked.

"If I were to be bold to ask, master, what is the purpose of this?"

You merely smiled at him, saying that it's nothing important. A part of him knew about what you're planning, but he decided to keep quiet and merely chuckled.

After the interaction, you quickly but stealthily took a small canvas and a few of your painting supplies.

—

Days passed, and the painting was finally ready. You have pulled many all-nighters to finish this; you spent so much time carefully adding details and capturing his looks to the formerly blank canvas. And you couldn't be happier with the results; you just hope it was enough to make him understand the message you're trying to pass.

You took a deep breath and finally called for him. He quickly arrives at your workspace, noticing the medium-sized easel and the small paint stains on the floor. Your back was facing towards him, trying to hide the painting from his view. Realizing what to do, you flipped the canvas and turned towards him. He was understandably confused, and you were too nervous to say anything. You quickly walked up to him and handed the canvas to him.

"Here. I...made this for you." You said in such a shaky voice, he was almost concerned. But he gently grabs the canvas, and finally, he turns it to reveal the drawing. He was... speechless. Absolutely speechless. Just standing there, appreciating what he's seeing. You stuttered, trying to get words out of your mouth.

"...as a way to express how much I'm thankful for everything you've done. You're an amazing attendant, and I wanted to repay you somehow. W-well, other than using money." You awkwardly laughed, fidgeting with your fingers.

Lycaon continues to silently admire your work of him. You captured his features so well; the colors were so nice to look at, the pose, the lighting... it was so beautiful. He always appreciates the time and effort you put into your artwork. Secretly, he has been going to your workspace at night to admire all of the work you've done. He couldn't help but laugh once he saw how red your face was.

"My sincere apologies, master. But if I may ask, what are you trying to say?" He asked, almost in a teasing matter. Oh, he knows.

You panicked, so overwhelmed by the situation at hand. A part of you is trying to come up with lies, but ultimately, you gave in.

After taking a deep breath, you officially admitted your true feelings. Well, in the simplest way possible. You couldn't help but cringe at what you've said. This is so embarrassing, you thought.

Lycaon smiled, looking back at the painting to caress the sides of the canvas. He chuckled once more.

"What an astonishing way to express such feelings towards someone. I must say, master, I'm truly impressed."

The thiren carefully puts the canvas on a small table next to him, then he walks towards you. Gently grabbing your hand.

"As for what are my thoughts regarding all of this," he then proceeds to kiss the back of your hand. You jumped to his action, watching every move he made. He looked back at you softly.

There you heard it—the words that'd make you fall to the ground instantly.

"I'd be delighted to be more than an attendant for you, my dear."

[starkwlkr]

miss honey | sebastian vettel

dad!sebastian x female reader

no part 2

“Papa! I have a new teacher!”

The school had already sent out an email letting parents know that the students were being thought by a new teacher. Ever since his daughter knew of the teacher, she had been counting down the days until she could meet her and finally today was the day.

“Remember, we have to be kind to her and all the other kids, okay?” Sebastian reminded her as they walked hand in hand to her classroom. The little girl nodded with a smile on her face.

They finally made it to her classroom and saw several parents with their kids already inside. The Vettel girl let go of her father’s hand and excitedly ran to the table where her friends were. Sebastian wasn’t sure what the new teacher looked like so he just stood to the side admiring the artwork of the kids that was stapled to the cork boards.

“It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Cooper.” A sweet voice caught Sebastian’s attention. It was coming from outside of the classroom so he poked his head out to see what was going on. At the same time, you had entered the classroom causing you to bump into each other. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”

“No, it’s my fault. That’s what I get for being nosey. I’m sorry.” Sebastian apologized. “Do you know who the new teacher is? My daughter is excited to meet her.”

You smiled. “Well I’m more excited to meet her. Where is she?”

“You’re the new teacher?”

“Is that surprising?”

Sebastian nervously chuckled. “No, not at all. I was just . . . Schatz! Come meet your new teacher.” The little girl came running to her father.

“Hello, my father told me you’re excited to meet me.” You bent down to her height. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Emma.” The girl replied shyly.

“Emma, you have a very lovely name. I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but smile at the interaction. He already took a liking to you. He stayed with Emma for a bit while you greeted other parents and their kids. While Emma colored in her journal, a dad of Emma’s friend had gotten Sebastian’s attention.

“New teacher is hot, right? I’ll have to drop off my kid more often now.” He said, keeping his eyes on your body. “God, she knows what she’s doing. Look at that ass—”

“We’re in a classroom, there’s kids around us. It’s inappropriate, especially when she’s the one teaching our kids.” Sebastian interrupted.

“What? You’re acting as if you wouldn’t sleep with her. Whatever, she’ll definitely put out for me.” He then walked towards you as you finished another conversation with a mom. Sebastian watched as he tried to talk his way into getting your number.

The German could see the discomfort in your face so he quickly made his way towards you. “It’s getting late, shouldn’t you be going to your office?” Sebastian told the rude man.

“I’m the boss, Vettel, I can go in whenever I want.” He replied.

“Last I heard, your boss was thinking of firing you because you got drunk and ran over a road sign and you called him in the middle of a meeting so he could bail you out.”

You could feel the tension between the men. All you wanted to do was start your first day.

“You’re really not that funny.” He said as he left the classroom.

“Wasn’t trying to be.” Sebastian mumbled. “Sorry about him, he’s an idiot.”

“I could tell. .” You gasped when you realized what you just said. “Oh god, please don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Ever since your first interaction with Sebastian, you couldn’t help but think about him often. You knew it was wrong, but he was just so charming. It was one sided at all. Emma would sometimes bring you a little gift with a note attached in Sebastian’s handwriting. You didn’t know what exactly he did for work, you assumed it was a job that required him to travel a lot since Emma would bring different souvenirs from different countries. His notes were always short and sweet, it made you melt inside.

It was a chilly day and you were almost done with class. The kids were packing their backpacks and cleaning up their areas while you helped some students.

“Does anyone have questions about their homework?” You asked your class.

“No, miss l/n!” They replied.

“Miss l/n? I have a question, but it’s not about the homework . . .” Emma raised her hand from her seat.

You nodded and walked over to her table. “What’s your question, Emma?”

“Well . . My papa is retiring and i was wondering if you want to come with us to his last race?” Emma asked.

“Race? Your papa races?” You were confused, but then it all made sense. The gift from different countries, why Emma’s grandparents were the ones the drop her or pick her up off most of the time.

“Yeah, but he’s retiring. He has four world championships!” Emma put up four fingers. “Can you come with us? Please!”

“Emma, I’m not sure. What if your papa doesn’t want me there? We can talk about this another day.” You tried to dismiss the topic, but the little girl wasn’t giving up.

“That’s not true because my papa always talks about you to his teammate and his friends and everyone who works with him and I heard him say he wants to invite you to the race. One time he called you Miss Honey.” Emma said.

You were sure you were blushing at the thought of Sebastian calling you Miss Honey. It wasn’t the first time you were called that, but knowing Sebastian did made you smile.

“Well I’ll have to talk to your papa when he comes to pick you up.” You said. The Vettel girl nodded.

You took the kids to the entrance of the school where all the parents picked them up from and noticed Sebastian immediately. He waved at you instantly. You waved back, already feeling butterflies in your stomach from that tiny interaction. You then helped the kids find their parents and kept other kids company since they were waiting for their parents to show up.

“Miss l/n! My papa wants to ask you something!” Emma came up running to you, dragging Sebastian by his hand. “Ask her papa!”

The older man just laughed. “I will, just be patient. Um . . So I was wondering if you would like to attend my last race as a Formula 1 driver.”

“Emma did mention you raced.” You said. “She also mentioned you talk about me to your colleagues and call me Miss Honey.”

“Did she?” Sebastian looked down at his daughter, who innocently smiled. “I apologize if that made you uncomfortable—”

“It’s cute. Not the first time I’ve been called that actually.”

Emma couldn’t wait any longer for your answer. “So you’ll go see my papa race?!”

“Emma, be patient.” Sebastian told her.

You looked at her with a smile. “I think it would be lovely to see your papa race.”

Thank god for Emma Vettel and her impatience.

The last race of the Formula 1 season was here. It was a very emotional weekend for many since they would be saying goodbye to the great Sebastian Vettel. He had been receiving lots of kind messages and gifts from fans and supporters from all over the world.

It was the morning of Abu Dhabi Grand Prix and you were feeling a lot of emotions. On the way to the track, Emma had given you her version of how a race worked. You listened to her all the way to the track with Sebastian sometime reminding her of a few things she missed. Finally, you made it to the paddock entrance where photographers were waiting for the arrival of Sebastian.

“Papa, there’s a lot.” Emma said once she noticed the amount of photographers waiting.

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart. You can hold my hand until we get inside, okay?” You assured Emma. Sebastian saw how Emma felt safe with you. You truly were a real life Miss Honey.

Eventually, the three of you had to make your way to the entrance so you held onto Emma’s hand and stayed close to Sebastian. While Sebastian got caught up with taking photos and singing autographs for fans, Emma showed you around. She pointed at several buildings and told you that those were the team motorhomes.

“Sorry about that, come on let’s continue.” Sebastian caught up with you and Emma.

“It’s alright, Emma is a very good guide. She’s very smart.” You reply.

You all made your way to the Aston Martin garage where Sebastian insisted on showing you around. Even though Emma had already been to multiple races over the years, she always acted surprised when she saw her father’s car. You couldn’t help but take a photo of Emma being put inside Sebastian’s car for the final time.

“This is amazing. I can’t believe you never told me this was your job.” You said to Sebastian as you both watched Emma joke around with Sebastian’s race engineer.

“You never asked.” He joked. “It means a lot to Emma that you’re here . . and to me. Thank you.”

“I’m happy to be here.”

Soon came the race. You and Emma watched from the Aston Martin garage. You weren’t sure what was happening, but you were happy to be there to support Sebastian. When the checkered flag came out, Emma explained to you that her father had finished in the points. You, Emma and the Aston Martin team cheered.

It felt like forever trying to reunite with Sebastian, but you kept Emma entertained by playing I spy.

“I spy with my little eye something . . . Red!” You said.

Emma looked around then spotted Charles walking with Max. “It’s Charles!”

“You got it!”

Now it was Emma’s turn. “I spy with my little eye . . Papa!” She yelled, the game of i spy already forgotten since Sebastian was back in the garage. Emma ran to her father and gave him a big hug.

“Did you have fun?” Sebastian questioned.

“Yeah, miss l/n and I were playing I spy and I won.” Emma replied. “Can we go home?”

Sebastian looked at you. “Let’s go home.” He nodded, content with his new life.

After your return home, you saw Sebastian more often. He even volunteered for bake sales, school fundraisers and career day. The kids loved seeing his helmet and racing suit, you were pretty sure it made all the other parents jealous.

It was a nice sunny day when Sebastian had asked you to dinner. It took some convincing, but you accepted. He took you to a restaurant that had a beautiful view and a lot of pretty colorful flowers. As you were talking about a bookstore you wanted to visit, a bee that joined you. While most people were afraid of bees and tried to run away from them, you adored them.

“Five eyes, six legs.” You admired the insect.

“Emma thinks I’m crazy for talking to bees. I tell her that bees are important.” Sebastian said.

“Yeah, I do remember her telling me that you talk to the bees. I thought she was joking.” You chuckled. “I had the kids to a project about bees and Emma said you were planning to make insect hotels?” Soon all you and Sebastian could talk about what his upcoming new project.

After your date, Sebastian drove you home. You honestly didn’t want the date to end, but you had homework that needed grading. What a way to spend a Friday night, but you enjoyed it. You found grading papers very therapeutic.

“I’ll see you at school?” Sebastian wondered.

“Sure.” You laughed. “Before I forget.” You leaned forward and pressed your lip’s against his. It was sweet like honey. After you pulled away, Sebastian couldn’t wipe off the smile from his face.

“Goodnight, miss honey.”

“Goodnight, bee man.”

—

2023

Time skip brought to you by all my seb pictures from pinterest

PRIVATE ACCOUNT

liked by sebastianvettel, mickschumacher and 276 others

missl/n_ bee man in his natural habitat 🐝 thanks for bringing me along 🖤

mickschumacher come back soon!!

missl/n_ i’ll try! my kids need their teacher 😉

sebastianvettel the bees thank you, miss honey 🍯

missl/n_ i love you, bee man 🐝

[cherrybacy]

Volume 7 Special Illust Gallery

These are the bonus artworks included in the special edition of Volume 7! Find them under the cut!

DO NOT REPOST OR REUPLOAD ON OTHER SITES

cl: zuri

tl: red & naina

ts: zuri

(join our discord!)

I've been thinking that for a while now, but Adachi's sleeping face looks really vulnerable...  He feels younger than usual, or rather like a child. I've always wanted to see it, but we’re almost at our stop. I might get in trouble if I don't wake him up…

Huh? I-Is Adachi maybe secretly taking a picture of me? No, I’m completely fine with it and really happy. What would he do if I took one of him in return? I so wanna ask him that… I’ll pretend to sleep a little longer.

That I’d get to wear matching yukata on our date! It’s like I’m dreaming… Since Adachi’s skin is fair, getting a dark colored yukata was definitely the right call!

I thought wearing a yukata at a summer festival and frolicking around would be weird for my age. I really doubted this idea but it is actually not that bad. Most importantly, Minato looks like he is having fun. More than usual, even. That is… it kind of… feels like we’re closer somehow.

Today is our Christmas date. I also look forward to waiting for Adachi at our meeting place. That moment when Adachi sees me from afar and comes running towards me is so cute. Aah, it’s no good. I can’t remember any of the content in this book at all.

Mugs and a pair of glasses, let’s just buy both. I’m really happy to see more and more matching items in our home.

A present prepared for this day. Before we started dating, I had fantasized many times about giving Adachi a present, but I never thought that the day would come when he would actually accept it and prepare one for me in return… My heart can’t be racing this fast even before handing it over.

This is bad, I'm so happy to be lying down on Adachi's lap, I feel like I'm going to die. It's perfectly fine if you laugh at me and think I'm a spoiled child. I’ll fall in love with that smile again and again.

In the Taisho era, if I were a police officer and Adachi was working for a publishing company…

I'm sure Adachi would still be kind, so if I'm having trouble investigating a case, he'd probably help me. That kindness of his, I really love it.

[dr-spectre]

Splatoon 2 Callie Explained - (In my interpretation)

So in this blog post I wanna go over what is going on with Callie in Splatoon 2 because there's a lot of misinformation being spread around due to how unclear the events of Splatoon 2 were. I'm going to provide my own thoughts into how the Hypnoshades actually affect Callie and clear up what hypnosis actually does to a person, because a lot of people think that Callie was kidnapped and then mind controlled but its actually a lot more complicated than that. I've done a ton of painstaking research into this so if you would like some sources to what I'm saying then I'll be happy to provide it in the comments below when asked!

Okay so first off we need to establish one thing right off the bat, no, Callie was not kidnapped in the sense that she was snatched up by DJ Octavio and then brainwashed while she was kicking and screaming trying to stop him. The idea that Callie was snatched up randomly is simply not to true due to the fact that the OFFICAL Splatoon 2 relationship chart states that Callie was willing to hear out DJ Octavio and go with him. Why? Because if you look at Sunken Scroll 21 and 22 in Splatoon 2, it gives insight into Callie's declining mental health as she struggles to put on a happy face as she walks through a huge crowd of people, as well as the fact that she drew a squid with a sad face on it in Sunken Scroll 22 which is a very clear giveaway that she isn't doing well. Also keep in mind Marie was busy with her own solo thing too and Callie even states in the relationship chart that she's busy and lonely. It also explains why Callie doesn't experience any sort of trauma, turmoil or resentment after Splatoon 2 because well, she wasn't kidnapped and the shades were not forcibly put on her. (Also in Squid Sister Stories chapter 7 there's an artwork piece of Callie walking towards DJ Octavio's star mark so there's that too....)

Now I want to get into how hypnosis actually affects a person and what being hypnotized is actually like. Being hypnotized is described as having "heightened attention, increased focus and heightened suggestibility." You do not get put to sleep and become a puppet as popular media shows it to be, but instead you are hyper aware of what is going on around you. It's also said to be highly relaxing and can help with patients who struggle with anxiety and other mental issues, which might explain why Callie kept putting the shades back on, she enjoys wearing them to some degree as it helps her deal with the pain of being a celebrity, kind of like an addiction but unfortunately Splatoon 2 doesn't explore it at all and Marie (CALLIE'S OWN GOD DAMN COUSIN BTW!) jokes about it..... ugh...... at least she overcomes that addiction OFF SCREEN unfortunately....

Now that part about "suggestibility" is important to consider because contrary to popular belief, you don't lose awareness and memories while you are hypnotized and the person who is in charge of hypnotizing you, CANNOT force you to do anything that's against your wishes and you do NOT lose control of your behavior. Meaning that on some level Callie actually wanted to side with the Octarians because her life beforehand was shitty. The shades do not control Callie but instead put her in a hypnotic state that relaxes her and increases her attention and suggestibility.

For example, if DJ Octavio were to tell Callie to kill Marie instead of Agent 4, she would probably have a ton of hesitation about it and probably not follow his orders. Callie doesn't want to kill Marie, but she doesn't care or know about Agent 4 and that's why she had no problems with following DJ Octavio's suggestions. She also didn't try to attack Marie during the final boss when she was flying around and she just wants Marie to leave her alone because guess what, she's suffering from mental health issues!!!!!! And her relationship with Marie got worse and worse overtime as shown with the Squid Sister Stories.

If you were hypnotized and then the person responsible of your hypnotism handed you a weapon and told you to kill your best friend, you wouldn't do it because it's against your wishes (unless you secretly wanna kill your best friend for some reason....)

With all of this information laid out, it actually does make Splatoon 2's admittedly mid story a bit more interesting, it shows that Callie does have these dark traits and flaws about her, and the Hypnoshades bring out the worst in her. The angry, power hungry and harsh side to her, that was even built up from Splatoon 1. If you look at the dialogue from the Naughty vs. Nice, Early Bird vs. Night Owl and Callie vs. Marie Splatfests, you can see that Callie actually got upset at Marie multiple times due to her attitude.

It really does make Tidal Rush more emotional and powerful as a song if you really think about it. It's a clashing of two cousins whose relationship has been broken apart and Marie is desperately trying to reach out to Callie and fix what she has done. Maybe Marie blames herself for why Callie ran away and that's why she sounds like she's on the brink of tears in the song.... And it makes Spicey Calamari Inkantation more triumphant as a song too.

It does make me a bit angry that Nintendo doesn't wanna dive into these topics as well as Callie. She is flawed and has dark traits about her but, she doesn't try to change or grow from them in any significant or well written way, its like they forgot about it in Splatoon 3 which.... sucks man. I'm hoping we get a Side Order type deal with the Squid Sisters for Splatoon 4 and we dive deeper into the psyches of these girls, because what we have is really interesting but it lacks explanation and nuance and everyone keeps boiling it down to "welp Callie got kidnapped and mind controlled!" Which... its more complex than that... With Agent 3 and Marina it's for sure mind control and i would like to talk about them in a future blog but, with Callie? It's different and there's a lot of layers a lot of people tend to ignore because Splatoon 2's story is just... meh.

[aquagirl1978]

Little Lion Man

Pairing: Leon Dompteur x Reader

Prompt: Day 1 (Love), Day 4 (Brothers) and Day 6 (Dance) for Leon Dompteur Sequel Route Release event (hosted by me)

Word count: 1330

Tags: Fluff (with a brief appearance from Chevalier, Jin and Leon's young son)

A/N: This fic was inspired by Leon's recent Halloween gacha card in JP as well as @ikeprinces-stuff artwork with an alternate Leon costume that can be seen HERE. Jin and Chevalier's gacha cards are also referenced throughout the fic.

“You are going to be the cutest little lion cub at tonight’s party!” you squealed as you adjusted the lion ears on top of your son’s head.

“Do you think Papa will like my costume?”

“Like it? He will love it!” You picked your son up in your arms, thankful he was still light enough for you to carry, and held him against your chest as you both looked in the mirror. “I think Uncle Yves did a great job with both of our costumes this year, don’t you think?”

Your son looked up at you and smiled. “You will be the prettiest bunny rabbit tonight, Mama.” He looked back into the mirror and opened his mouth wide to let out a tiny little roar. “And I will be the fiercest lion at the ball!”

Beaming with joy, you put your son down and took his little furry paw in yours. “Are you ready to go to a party now?”

He jumped up and down excitedly; his smile, bright as the sun, was a near replica of his father’s. “But where’s Papa?”

You looked out the nearby window, the darkening skies telling you it was already getting late in the day. “He said he had something to do before the party, and that he would meet us there.”

*****

“This is what you came to my office for, Black?” Chevalier let out an exasperated sigh as his ice blue eyes met Leon’s amber eyes in a cold stare.

“Yes! This is an important matter!”

“Your ridiculous costume does not concern me,” Chevalier remarked, his eyes returning to the documents on his desk. 

“I found out that Silvio is going to the Halloween Ball as a vampire.  I was supposed to go as a vampire. I’m the King, I can’t be wearing the same costume as someone else!”

“I don’t think you’ll have that problem now,” Chevalier commented with a smirk. “I can assure you, no one else will be dressed like that tonight. Although, the color is very fitting for you, Black.”

Leon grumbled loudly at being called this nickname, but refused to dwell on it. Unfortunate as it was, he needed Chevalier’s help.

“Please. You read more books than anyone I know.”

“Yes. And you read none.”

“That’s not the point,” Leon growled. “I’m asking for your help.” 

Chevalier straightened in his seat and rested his chin in the palm of his hand, his icy gaze silently saying speak.

“Belle read a story to me the other night. It was about a masked, sword-wielding hero and his swashbuckling adventures.”

“And this is who you are supposed to be?” Chevalier asked wide-eyed.

“Yes! His name was…ah, Zoso or something?”

Chevalier was polite enough to cover his mouth when he snickered. “You mean Zorro.”

“Isn’t that what I said?” No, wait. Don’t answer that.” Leon pulled out the rapier that was sheathed at his waist and dramatically flipped his dark cape. “I am Zorro, the dashing masked vigilante!”

Leon put down the rapier and stared at Chevalier. “That was believable, right?”

“The masked part certainly was.”

Leon’s brows knitted in frustration. “You’re a bully. You know that, right?”

“You’re the one who came to me,” Chevalier replied with a snort of laughter before returning his attention to the papers on his desk.

“Oh hey, Chevalier. What costume are you wearing tonight?”

“Evil demon,” he replied without looking up from his desk.

“Ah, well, that makes perfect sense. You could go as yourself, no need to even dress up,” Leon muttered under his breath as he made his way towards the door.

“I know,” Chevalier called out. 

Leon didn’t have to turn around to know there was a wicked grin plastered on the face of the second prince.

*****

“Have you seen Leon?” you asked Jin when you ran into him at the dessert table.

Jin looked around the room slowly, looking for his younger brother. “I haven’t seen him since I got to the ball. When I saw him earlier, he did mention he might be a little late this evening.”

“Did Papa forget about the ball?” a quiet little voice asked.

Jin crouched down and held out a lollipop to his nephew. “I’m sure your Papa didn’t forget. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was still at his desk, finishing up some work that just couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

Still crouched, Jin noticed a familiar figure dressed in black approaching. Leon held a finger to his mouth, to which Jin gave a quick wink.

Standing off to the side, you smiled as you watched Leon walk on tiptoe, trying to surprise his young son.

Jin leaned in closer to his nephew, whispering loudly in his ear. “I heard there will be many mysterious visitors at the ball tonight. Some might be friend, others foe. I need you to be on high alert and let me know if you see anyone suspicious. Can you do that for me, buddy?”

“Yes, Uncle Jin,” the small boy answered seriously.

“I think it's best if you turn around then. You won't be much of a lookout if all you're doing is looking at me,” he said. He put his hands on his nephew's shoulders, ready to turn him around at the right moment. “On my count. One, two…three!”

On three, Jin spun the young prince just as Leon was a few feet away.

“Papa!” the boy exclaimed, breaking from his uncle's hold and running to his father.

“Whose Papa? I don't recall raising a lion cub!” Leon scooped his son up in a big bear hug, gently tickling him until he began to squirm with laughter.

“It's me, it's me,” he squealed in between peals of laughter.

“What do you think?” Leon winked, gesturing to his costume. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes. You're Zoso, the dashing, masked vigilante from the book Mama read to us!”

Leon threw back his head and let out a loud roar of laughter. 

Like father, like son, he thought to himself as he pulled his son into another hug.

“Hey!” Leon called to you, extending his hand. “Don't think you're hopping away so fast!”

Joining him in a tight hug, your heart filled with warmth. “I thought you were going to be a vampire,” you whispered in Leon's ear.

“It's a long story, I'll tell you later.” After Leon set the tiny lion cub on the ground, breaking the family hug, his hand searched for yours. “I heard…” he started in a very excited voice, “that there is a haunted maze out in the gardens. Who wants to go?”

“I do, I do!” cried a young voice.

“And you, my bunny?” Leon asked with a smirk. 

“If you're going, I'm going.”

“Hey, what about me?” Jin asked, a small pout forming on his lips.

Leon looked over his older brother for a minute. “ I'm not sure they're letting in any lazy mummies this year…” Leon let Jin stew only a few moments before clapping him on the shoulder with a wide smile. “Lucky for you though, your brother happens to be king.”

Leon led the group to the haunted gardens, his hand still clasped in yours, while Jin and the young prince ran up ahead.

“I was really looking forward to seeing you as a vampire tonight,” you said, trying to mask your disappointment.

“Oh?” 

“Not that this costume doesn't look amazing, but….” you smiled at Leon, “…you know…”

“Know what?”

“Vampires…biting….” you replied, quickly looking away as you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

Leon pulled you closer, so close he could feel that heat as he whispered to you.  “I can always change later. I still have the vampire costume.”

“Let's hurry then,” you said softly, not wanting to be heard by anyone but your husband.

Leon quickened his pace, excited to continue the haunted festivities. His arm wound around your waist as thoughts of what this evening would later bring were already dancing in his head.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady

@queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome

@kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira

@crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings

@wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381

@maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia

@ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @portrait-ninja @sh0jun

@ikesenwritings @justpeachyteastea @kalims-pessimist-bestie @shadowylakes     @writingwhimsey  

@ikeprinces-stuff @candiedcoffeedrops     @kookie-my-little-sunshine

[avastrasposts]

When's the last time you lived?

A short little one-shot (2.6k) with sweet Marcus PIke for @pedgito @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy and their Summer Loving writing challenge! Thank you for putting this all together!

I was given a quote, a location and Marcus Pike to write for, plus this lovely mood board as inspiration. No warnings needed, this is all fluff!

You really couldn’t say you were enjoying yourself. Leaning against a wall at the back of the stuffy gallery, you sipped the sour red wine and let your bored eyes drift across the crowd. All of your friend’s new boyfriend’s acquaintances, mingling with dry canapes and faces molded into interesting looks as they competed with each other for the wittiest line about the artwork lining the walls. 

Little did you, or anyone else, know how interesting the evening would turn out in the end. All you knew was that the dark haired guy who kept circling the room, making polite small talk and eyeing the art, was as cute as he was sexy. He was the only thing keeping you from making a bad excuse and dipping out. He kept glancing over at you, catching your eye, and you’d exchanged quick smiles. 

When the front door suddenly swung open and four armed police officers marched in, the party froze. With widening eyes you watched as the cute dark haired guy stepped up to the gallery owner, right in the middle of schmoozing a client, and flashed an FBI badge. Within a few minutes the party was broken up, the owner in cuffs being led away and a team of FBI agents swarmed in and started packing up the artwork. You found yourself ushered out onto the street with the rest of the guests, but as you turned to leave, one of the agents held out his hand. 

“Miss, you’ve been asked to stay just a few minutes, Agent Pike has some questions for you.” 

“F-for me? I don’t know anything?” you stammered, following the agent to the side as the other guests hurried away, throwing questioning glances back at you.  

“Thank you, York, I’ve got it from here,” a second male voice said, putting his hand on his colleague's shoulder. The cute dark haired man smiled down at you as the other agent walked away with a brisk nod. 

“I don’t know anything about all this, I was just here with a friend, her boyfriend-” 

“No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to think you’re a suspect,” he said, shaking his head with an apologetic look, “I just wanted a chance to come over and say hello before you left. I couldn’t interrupt the raid.” He gave you another warm smile and held out his hand, “Hello, I’m Marcus.” 

You huffed a small laugh of relief as you took his hand and gave him your name, “I’m glad, getting arrested by the FBI is not on my bucket list.” 

That’s how you’d met Marcus Pike, FBI agent, foodie, art nerd and all around great guy. Not to mention an incredible lover and pretty damn near perfect at dating. He did move kind of fast, eager to please and to make sure you always knew what he felt about you. It was endearing but unusual, but once he opened up about a particularly bad relationship in his past you understood him more. He needed reassurance that you were both on the same page, and when you told him you needed to move a bit slower, he understood and backed off a little bit. You dated, had fun, and kept it at that for now. No need to rush. 

This evening he’d invited you to the opening of a new exhibition at the National Gallery of Art. He’d been out of town a few days for work, and you’d felt a little jolt of excitement when you’d spotted him in the crowded foyer. He was scanning the crowd for you but hadn’t seen you yet, so while you crossed the room you took in his tall, broad form. The gray, soft looking, sweater stretched across his shoulders as he pushed a stray strand of his hair off his forehead and scratched absentmindedly at his scruffy beard. The beard was a recent addition, he’d been clean shaven when you met, but he’d let it grow out for a job. He’d complained that his beard never filled in, but you loved the look on him, and how it felt when he kissed you. So he’d kept it, making sure to tickle you with it when he trailed kisses over your neck, laughing when you squealed and squirmed under him. 

As you got closer he saw you approach, and he moved through the crowd with a warm smile. His hand cupped your cheek as you met, and he bent his head to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. 

“Hey,” he murmured against your mouth, “I missed you, honey.” 

“Missed you too, Marcus,” you smiled against his lips as you felt his other arm curl around your waist, pulling you into his chest, “How was your trip?” 

“Boring but successful, we got hold of the evidence we needed,” he said, still close to your mouth, letting you trail your fingers across his cheek while he smiled, holding your gaze until you had to kiss him again. 

“I should’ve planned a date at my place instead of in public,” he chuckled, pulling away slightly as you became aware of the crowd milling around you. His hand slipped from your waist and took your hand instead as he gave your cheek a final caress.

“Should we go see what the fuss is about?” he asked, holding up two tickets for the exhibition and you nodded. 

“Let’s see if it was worth giving up the couch for.” 

You ambled together through the exhibition, and it was definitely worth it, as Marcus no doubt had known it would be. He’d visited the van Gogh museum in Amsterdam a few years earlier and hadn’t wanted to miss this exhibition, the biggest one of his works in the US. You weren’t familiar with van Gogh apart from the sunflowers. But as Marcus walked you through the exhibition, reading the signs and asking what you thought about different aspects of the paintings you hadn’t even considered, you began to see that there was a lot more to van Gogh than cheap posters of sunflowers and a man who’d cut his ear off. 

You stopped in front of one of the last works of the exhibition and felt yourself be sucked into the image. The small sign said it was called ‘Wheat field under Thunderclouds’ and the petroleum blue clouds gathering on the horizon, threatening to envelope the sunlit wheat fields captured your imagination. Marcus stopped just behind you, his warm palm on the small of your back, as you took in the atmosphere in the painting. It felt melancholy, the end of summer, the end of warm days, a looming disaster in the distance, rolling in to destroy the wheat fields just as they were ripening. 

“What are you thinking?” Marcus asked in a low voice, he seemed to sense that the painting had stirred something in you. 

“The painting makes me sad, it looks like the end of a warm day, the storm clouds are so ominous,” you said, pointing to how they had rolled up right to the edge of the frame. 

“He painted it just a week before his death, along with several other pieces on the same subject,” Marcus said, “It maybe be a bit on the nose, but I always thought of the clouds as his own looming troubles, maybe he was feeling happy when he painted them, but he knew darkness would roll over him again.” 

“Knowing that makes the painting even sadder,” you said, looking at the dark clouds again, “But I really love the painting anyway. That one and the one he did for his nephew,” you pointed over towards a bright painting of flowering almond branches against a blue sky. 

“That’s one of my favorites too,” Marcus said, “and The Starry Night.” 

He took your hand as you walked slowly towards the exit, “I have a surprise,” he smiled, “I’ve arranged something special for us. Wait for me in the gift shop and I’ll go make sure everything is set up, give me five minutes.” 

“Come here first,” you said, not letting go of his hand as he tried to walk away. He turned back with a grin and came willingly as you pulled him down for a kiss. 

“You’re the best boyfriend, you know that right?” you told him and he chuckled, ducking his head for another kiss. 

“I try my best,” he replied with a wink. 

He gave you a quick smile as he left the gift shop, leaving you to browse a ridiculous assortment of pens, mugs, water bottles, umbrellas, trays, key chains, t-shirt and phone covers adorned with artwork. A book on van Gogh’s work caught your attention and you were flipping through it when Marcus came back. 

“All ready for your surprise, if you’ll accompany me,” he said, holding out his arm for you with a big smile, and you put your hand on his soft sweater and let him guide you out of the shop. He led you away from the crowds, further into the museum, where the lights were dim. 

“I found this little nook, hidden away,” he said, taking another turn, leading you into a gallery filled with marble statues, “And I thought it might be a nice place away from the crowds.” 

“And we can be back here?” you asked, looking at the very empty rooms you were passing through. The rest of the museum was closed for the night, it was only the van Gogh exhibition that had been available to celebrate its opening night. 

“Yeah, sure, I’m FBI,” he grinned, “I’ve got my badge with me just in case.” 

“Marcus,” you say, almost stopping dead in your tracks, “are you sure this is ok?” 

“It’s fine, honey,” he smiled, “When was the last time you lived, huh? Let’s bend the rules a little,” Marcus winked again and tugged you with him, and you felt a reckless giggle bubble up as he led you further into the statues gallery. 

“I’m pleading innocence if we get caught,” you laughed and Marcus smiled, turning a final corner. 

“Here, my lady, dinner is served.” 

“Oh, Marcus!” you gasped at the scene he’d set up. Right at the end of the room, surrounded by elegant Roman statues, was one of the museum’s benches. But now it was covered by a white tablecloth and on it was laid out a picnic, if you could even call it that. The bench was laid with plates and cutlery, two wine glasses and a bottle, together with candlesticks and a single red rose in a vase. Several take out boxes sat between the plates and you could smell something delicious. 

“How did you even do all this?” you asked as he led you to the “table” and made you sit down. 

“Easy,” Marcus grinned, “I brought it from home and put the bag in one of the lockers, then I ordered the food while we were in the exhibition and it arrived right on time.” 

“I’m so impressed,” you said, holding up your glass to let him fill it with wine, “you’ve outdone yourself.” 

“I hope not,” he laughed, “I need to come up with something really great for when I p-” He bit his lip and stopped short as his cheeks turned scarlet, “Sorry, forget I said anything.” 

“The dreaded p-word,” you said, smiling to make him less uncomfortable, “It’s not as scary now as it was six months ago. You’re making the prospect of it less intimidating.” 

Marcus’s face softened into a look of relief, smiling as he took your hand, “And you’re making it easier to just enjoy our relationship right now, thank you for showing me how to slow down.” 

The kiss he pressed to your lips lingered, the food forgotten for the moment, until leaning over the bench became too uncomfortable and you pulled a part. Marcus looked down at the take out boxes and picked one up. 

“Let’s eat before it gets cold, it’s from my favorite Greek places, I hope you like it.” 

“You haven’t given me bad food once, Marcus,” you said, accepting a helping a some spinach dish, “I just wish I could repay you, but since you don’t share my fondness for microwave meals, you’ll just have to keep picking restaurants.” 

“Actually, I was thinking,” Marcus said as he served himself and you sniffed one of the side dishes with feta cheese, “I wanna get better at cooking, maybe we could do one of those cooking classes together? And then we could cook together sometimes, what do you think?” 

“That’s a nice idea, I could do with some cooking classes,” you replied, “Did I tell you I actually set fire to the curtains in my first apartment? I put the toaster too close to them on the window sill and then I burnt the toast and the whole thing went up in flames.” 

Marcus looked at you with wide eyes, “Seriously? Were you ok? Did you get burnt?” 

“No, I was fine, my roommate knew where we had the fire extinguisher so she put it out and then the fire department showed up and made sure it hadn’t spread,” you chuckled at the memory and Marcus shook his head. 

“Lucky, and maybe I should handle the toast the next time we’re at my place.”   

“Marcus, you don’t even own a toaster,” you laughed, “between the two of us, we own one coffee machine and two microwaves.” 

“And a popcorn machine, don’t forget the popcorn machine,” Marcus replied, his warm brown eyes smiling at you as he reached out and swiped a crumb from your bottom lip with a soft touch. 

“It does make excellent popcorn,” you mused, watching him turn his attention back to the eggplant dish on his plate. 

Marcus was a foodie, you’d found out on your very first date when he’d planned a three restaurant “pub crawl” that ended up being four when you told him about your favorite gelateria. You’d agreed to share the ice cream since you’d had dessert at the third restaurant. That plan fell through the second Marcus tasted their cherry gelato, you’d both spent the better part of half an hour tasting all the flavors until he’d settled on cherry and hazelnut chocolate and you’d gone for stracciatella and lemon. Strolling through the warm evening, you’d eaten your gelato while Marcus asked if you’d like to go on a second date with him to a food truck festival and from then on, food had been the theme. 

When all the food had been eaten and the evidence of your secret picnic had disappeared into Marcus’s bag, he took your hand and brought you to the middle of the room. The lights were dim, the statues surrounding you cast in shadows, and it could’ve been creepy, if it wasn’t for Marcus’s presence. He put his phone down on one of the benches and low music filled the room, a slow instrumental piece, and held out his hand in an unmistakable gesture of inviting you to dance. With a smile you took his hand and stepped into his arms as he began to move you both in a slow twirl. You put your head against his shoulder as he led you in time with the music, his warm scent and steady heartbeat lulling you into a comfortable silence. His hand gently caressed your back, holding you close to him and you could feel his breath ghost over your cheek as he bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to your skin. 

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice low in the dark room. A simple statement, no grand gesture, no fanfare or lengthy speech, just an uncomplicated affirmation that filled your heart. 

“I love you too.” 

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 45 (Improving the Clinic)

QUESTION: Why is it so difficult to raise the clinic's rating? Has anyone ever gotten it to five stars? How??

Brindleton Pawspital was steadily improving, but every day at work was hard. Heather now had three vet techs who improved their skills every day (even Marcus Flex!), but they all had a long way to go to catch up to Heather.

She still worked long hours, earning more four-star reviews and increasing her clinic's reputation. But four stars wasn't five and left plenty of room for improvement, so she set to work upgrading the décor to add to the ambiance. She added a box of pet toys and an espresso machine in the lobby, new artwork, and better couches. Conrad liked to send her flowers, and the arrangements always brightened up her office.

She placed a community board by the edge of the square and installed a unique statue crafted from bird feathers found by her cats. A vendor at the docks traded for it when she'd collected twelve different bird feathers. He said it was a Spotted Sixam bird, but her mother was an astrobotanist and she'd never heard of one before. Nonetheless, she displayed the local artwork proudly outside her clinic.

At the end of another successful workday, she convened with Kaori Hayashi, her best vet tech, to discuss her newest hire. "Do you think Rico will be able to get his skills up as naturally as you did?"

Kaori shrugged. "He's great with the animals but he's a bit slow yet. But he's enthusiastic, and keeping him away from Marcus for most of the day was pretty smart!"

Marcus was still prone to take too long on his exams, even if he was getting better. "I don't want Rico learning how to do everything the hard way. Thanks for taking him under your wing."

"It's no problem, Doc. Oh, by the way: Petcare keeps sending emails about raising our prices." Kaori smirked as Heather rolled her eyes. As important as it was for her to raise money for the buyout, she was well known for quality service and products at reasonable prices. She didn’t want to change for Petcare or Landgraab Corp.

"They think if they just keep sending price suggestion emails, I'll suddenly stop ignoring them," she scoffed. "We can raise enough to buy them out without making the clients pay more."

"There is one thing we could try. I saw it on Simdit a while ago, but a friend of mine has a connection to this old armour-maker from Tartosa. His suits of armour actually make people so happy they drop more money. He says businesses always notice better ratings once they put them in every room."

"Sometimes I feel like nothing I do can improve our rating, no matter how successful we are." Heather sighed. "Do the statues really work that well?"

"My friend swears they're really special."

"A suit of armour seems so out of place in a vet clinic..."

"He says people like what they like, and they like these statues! Besides, when have you ever really cared about aesthetics?"

She had a point there. "How much do they cost?"

"They're expensive," she said, pulling out that f%$@*& lump of clay. "Probably eight or nine thousand simoleons apiece."

Heather cringed. "The clinic doesn't have near that kind of money right now."

"I don't blame you for not jumping at the chance. It sounds like a crazy idea, but my friend's a good dude. I trust him on this, but maybe you should focus on paying off the Landgraabs first."

Heather was proud of the way she was running the clinic. If she worked hard and saved properly, she'd be rid of Nancy and her company sooner than later.

There was little she wanted more. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[mrs-snape5984]

„And there's a black mark where your heart should've been….“

„I could've laid down and died, but my head was spinning round. It was spinning round. I wanna know what it's like, so I can feel it inside…“ („The Blue, The Green“ by Lonely The Brave)

Trigger warning: I’ve written this post in a moment of frustration and grief. If anyone has a problem with reading the sad thoughts of a depressed, middle-aged woman with the tendency to curse and swear too much, please feel free to skip the following five paragraphs.

It’s one of those especially hard days today. I had to leave my dark room to be taken to a medical appointment. Leaving my dark room means crashing hard again…with prior announcement!

So, leaving the house goes hand in hand with a sudden feeling of disorientation. Noises, movements, lights…those are all things, which my brain can’t comprehend anymore since I’m struggling with ME/CFS. When I’m overstimulated like that, I’m losing my grip on reality. Everything gets blurry and I feel as if I don’t know, who I am anymore.

It’s hard to describe, but I need to be guided into the right direction in these situations: Walking very slowly with my cane…having a break after every few steps…being held on my other arm…always wearing my dark sunglasses and my noise canceling earplugs…all these aspects together are making me feel so helpless…

I have to take my mother with me to the doctor’s office, because I wouldn’t understand a single word otherwise. And when I’m home again, back in my dark room…lying in my bed, the big crash starts to hit me right into my face! I’m getting feverish…my whole skin hurts as if it would be pulled off my body…my lymph nodes are swollen…my limbs are hurting and I can’t make a single step anymore. My head seems to explode from aching and I’m losing my ability to communicate properly. Every fucking time!

After some hours (sometimes even up to 24 hours) of sleep, I’m regaining consciousness again…still not capable of leaving my bed. And this is the worst moment…the moment, when my brain starts thinking about the humiliating feeling of being so helpless in my age. The moment, when I’m realising, that there are still so many years left to live….probably the same way as I was living for the past 1,5 years. The moment, when I’m grieving for the life, I’ve lost. The moment, when I’m hating myself for being too sick to be the active mother, friend, employee, I’ve been before this goddamn disease ME/CFS destroyed everything!

And this is the moment, when Severus has to take over. This might sound strange, but drowning in my fantasies about him is the only way to prevent my mind from going insane. Every time, when my own reality becomes unbearable to me, I’m imagining myself to be hidden beneath his robes…searching for shelter in his arms. Severus has been my safe haven for the past 21 years…and right now I’m clinging to him as tight as I can…in order to stay alive.

The wonderfully talented @alinearthp has transformed my fantasy into this beautiful artwork and I’m more than happy with the outcome of it. Aline, my friend, I love your art and the way, we’re sharing our thoughts with each other. You are a precious person, my dear, and I’m grateful to know you. Thank you so much for everything!

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

[jhilsara]

The Midnight Owl

Summary: After Spencer is shot he can't do much in the field for a while, being stuck to the offices in Quantico. His insomnia starts to amp up and instead of an urge for McDonald's at 1 AM he finds himself desperate for a new book and a coffee. Somehow, he finds the Midnight Owl, the late night bookstore/cafe open at weird hours with a cute southern co owner who probably gets the same amount of sleep as he does.

She also makes the best coffee that is disgustingly sweet. Exactly how he likes it.

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: Mentions of Season 5 100 episode and canon typical BAU themes

Artwork and beta read by @aninaska

The one with the late night bookstore  

If Spencer could pace, he would, but his new semi-permanent crutch situation was impeding his mobility. He hasn’t been able to sleep, much less relax with the knowledge of Hotch being stabbed by George Foyet in his own home. Or how it’s clear that he’s playing an extreme game with the BAU, but mostly Hotch. Spencer didn’t even want to think about poor Haley and Jack being thrown into witness protection. These were scenarios Spencer knew came with the job he does, but seeing it happen to people he knows and cares about, makes his stomach churn. He couldn’t imagine if it was his own mother being threatened. It sends a cold chill down his back. He needs a distraction.  

Spencer’s eyes drag over to his used and abused bookshelf. Looking through his collection trying to find something to read. Even for a distraction he’s not very interested in rereading any of the texts on his shelf. His go to comfort of Sherlock Holmes doesn’t even seem all that appealing at the moment. He needs something that isn’t about criminals or detectives right now. Too bad nothing else on his shelf seemed to catch his eye. Spencer eyes his clock and the analog clock on his wall tells him it’s two in the morning. He’d be lucky if anything besides a dingy twenty-four-hour cafe was open, much less a bookstore.  

He sighs and looks over at his discarded laptop on his desk. He boots it up to see if maybe he could at least check how early the library opened. He could try to sleep but his insomnia was eating away at him, trying to focus on anything else but work seems harder and harder. Spencer had to get out of his apartment. He looks up the library hours as well as a few bookstores. Just trying to see how soon he could sit down and avoid the never-ending running in his brain. He’s surprised when he finds a bookstore that was advertising its hours as open. Surely that was wrong. He spots the phone number on the webpage, and he decides to call to double check.  

The line rings for roughly two seconds before it’s picked up, a melodic voice on the other line states, “Midnight Owl, this is Margaux how can I help you?” The cadence of the woman’s voice much too chipper for the middle of the night.  

Spencer’s shocked into silence for a moment before he responds, “I thought the hours posted were wrong...” He finds himself stating. 

“Nope!” She replies, unbothered by his blunt response. “We’re open 24/5, only closed on Fridays and Saturdays!” She tells him brightly, “You wouldn’t be the first to call thinking we posted our hours wrong though. More common than you think.”  

He coughs awkwardly and finds himself nodding even though she can’t see it. “Okay, great, thank you so much.”  

“Not a problem, swing by some time we have the best drinks crafted by yours truly!” She jokes with a soft laugh trailing her sentence. She drawls out the end of her words in a way that has them twisting together as sweet as the tea he’s almost positive she drinks. 

“Have a good night.” He states before hanging up the phone.  

He looks at the address listed and finds that it’s just up the street, barely a block away.  

Spencer eyes his crutches for a moment debating on whether he should go or not. His good leg shakes in anxious movements as he sits on his couch. What were the odds that there was a bookstore up his block that was open at odd hours that catered to him? He knew the odds; they were incredibly low . He shrugs to himself and hobbles to grab his crutches, he’ll check it out. Why the hell not? If it’s too good to be true he can add it to the list of places he’ll never visit again like that one coffee shop downtown that burns everything he’s ever ordered.  

He desperately needs to get out of his apartment.  

- 

Margaux's night at the Midnight Owl was going slowly. She had a few of her regulars wander in, which she was happy for since they had only officially been open for four months. There was a couple that sat on the loveseat in the cafe every Thursday night reading their books together and drinking the cafe’s famous homemade lavender lemonade. Not that she could brag about it, her co-owner makes pastries and premade drinks. All homemade family recipes. On the opposite side of the store was the guy who came in every other day to check for anything new. He grabs a coffee and roams the stacks for an hour. Sometimes he buys, sometimes he doesn’t. He comes in at the same time though, so Margaux thinks he works a graveyard shift.  

There were a couple of students at a table in the cafe section clearly up studying and writing papers. The semester for school had only just started a month ago, but the influx of students coming and going was increasing by the day.  

She loved her little bookstore, and during the day they were popping. A rising trendy place for local university students. Margaux preferred the quiet of the nights though. It gave her time to make orders for books, restock, and change out displays. It was the methodical cleaning and sorting that kept her sane. Margaux’s daytime life was overly complicated and having her own corner of the world was nice. It felt like a safe bubble that didn’t necessarily feel like work.  

She’s in the middle of compiling a list of books to reorder that have already sold out when the front doorbell chimes telling her someone just entered. She’s behind a stack finishing what she's writing on her notepad when she calls out, “Be right there!”  

She bounds around the stack to the counter to meet the newcomer, “Welcome in! How can I help you?” she asks happily pushing her short hair behind her ear nervously.  

She scans the guy from head to toe, he’s definitely new. He looks like a grad student, probably around her age. His mousy brown hair is tied back into a low ponytail and he’s in a well-worn Caltech shirt and sweatpants. The oddest thing about him is the crutches he’s sporting as he comes in. Margaux sends him a warm smile. 

Spencer looks at the woman standing at the counter and finds she is not what he expected her to be. She looks like the moon; her round face is framed by dark midnight hair that hits just above her shoulders. It almost looks like it’s reflecting blue under the warm ambient light of the bookstore. Her dark blue eyes are like the ocean as they meet his hazel forest ones. Spencer almost loses his train of thought as he takes in the bookstore worker’s soft round features that just made her seem so inviting.  

It takes a second before he registers that she asked him a question. “Oh, yes,” he rushes out awkwardly. “Is the cafe still open?” He questions, tilting his head to the empty-looking bar on the other side.  

Margaux nods happily, “It is! I’m the only one who works the night shift, so I run the register and the cafe. Would you like something?” she asks him, already walking toward the counter that holds the cabinet of pastries and coffee machines.  

“A latte would be great actually.” He says in a much clearer voice.  

“Can do.” She grins at him radiantly and it’s so infectious he finds himself returning one to her. She turns and almost has a skip to her step as she walks, far too awake for him to deem reasonable for two in the morning.  

Spencer watches her as he slowly moves forward on his crutches, she almost dances around the machines as she makes his latte. She’s humming to the music that he’s finally registered playing in the bookstore. She’s radiating a warmth that Spencer doesn’t get to see much day to day except for the one and only, Penelope Garcia. Garcia looked and acted like the sun, one giant ball of pink and blonde energy. He watches Margaux move around her workstation making his latte and it’s seamless how she moves, it’s her second nature.  She’s just at ease here, which settles his uneasy nerves about trying a new place out in the middle of the night. He looks around and sees a few people mingling about. 

Spencer takes time to look around the store and notices how it feels much more lived in than any box stores he’s been to. The overhead lights aren’t fluorescent like a normal store but a few well-placed wooden chandeliers that are carved to look like vines. Every other light is a floor light or table lamp that has mismatched covers and stained glass. He turns to the large windows, and he guesses the store probably gets great sunshine when it’s daylight. The multiple house plants by the window and on the empty tables being a good indicator. The ambiance is so inviting, not to mention the amount of comfortable faux leather seating he sees.  

He could imagine spending a lot of time here, it was just so cozy. Spencer can’t imagine he would have missed this place opening but with all the cases they’ve been busy with, he actually isn’t surprised at all.  

He’s brought out of his thoughts by her placing the drink on the pickup bar, “So what ails you?” Her voice carries to him and her head is tilted as she looks at him expectantly. 

“Excuse me?” He finds himself stuttering out. 

She shrugs nonchalantly, “Well, it’s the middle of the night and I’ve never seen your face in here before.” She states the facts like it's so obvious.  

“So, what’s buggin’ you?” Her voice drawls out sweetly as she looks at him expectantly. 

It’s almost like the lights in the cafe frame her from behind, bright and dazzling. She’s clearly personable and Spencer isn’t used to people with Margaux's personality being overtly kind to him. He’ll see how long it takes her to dismiss him like most people do. It doesn’t annoy him like it used to, he expects it really. Especially when his own team and friends do it almost regularly.  

She’s waiting patiently for his response with unwavering kind eyes. 

“Insomnia,” He settled on admitting to her, he gave her a tight lined frown. “I needed a new book; I’ve read through my catalog.”  

Margaux’s eyes light up, “That’s my specialty! I mean, I make a mean latte, but my favorite part of this place is the books.” She whispered conspiratorially.  

“So,” She comes around from the back of the bar and puts her hands on her hips, “What genre were you looking for? Or was it a specific book?” She asks him.  

“Fantasy, preferably. I’ve read all of Tolkien and Gaiman’s works.” He tells her.  

She nods in understanding her blue eyes giving a quick look of him from head to toe, “You look like a man who’s read The Hobbit and American Gods .” She said, almost more so to herself.  

Spencer gives her a quizzical look, unsure if he should be insulted or not. Margaux reads his face and her own cheeks flush with embarrassment. Her hands start moving exaggeratedly as her voice pitches, “Not in a bad way! I promise, I’m here for a well read person! Not that you have to have read those two authors to be well read, I just-” She takes a deep breath and stops herself.  

“Sorry, I just mean, you look like you’ve probably read some of the most popular titles in that genre.” Her voice grows smaller, and her face is bright in a flush as she was rushing through her words, drawling out her words in that voice that sounds like sugar. She bites the inside of her cheek forcing herself to stop talking.  

Spencer chuckles and shakes his head, “I get it, you’re good.” He tells her reassuringly.  

She sighs in relief, pushing her bangs out of her face nervously, “Sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant you probably want something different and not recommended every time you ask for fantasy.”  

Spencer just gives her a smile, “I appreciate it.” He shifts his weight on his crutches to awkwardly sip his latte.  

Margaux ushers him over to one of the comfortable chairs with a nice side table lamp that has beautiful green and red stained-glass roses on it.  

“Here sit, I’ll grab some recommendations, and you can let me know what you think.” She doesn’t even give Spencer a chance to rebuttal before she’s off and disappears into the stacks.  

The silence that followed her absence was overwhelmingly loud, except for the soft music playing from the speakers. Spencer takes his time drinking his latte and it’s delicious. Better than the place the BAU grabs coffee from, and much better than whatever was in their coffee pot at the office.  

Margaux pops back out from the stacks within ten minutes holding at least five book options for him to sort through.  

“These all have different sub-genres but are fantasy in nature. Let me know if any look good to you.” She hands them over to him happily. He notices her biting the inside of her cheek again, as she watches him look over the books.  

Margaux’s rocking on her feet, as she watches Spencer thumb through the books, reading the summaries keeping his face neutral. She’s picking at her nails trying to not seem like a dog waiting. She should busy herself with something else besides trying to gauge Spencer’s reaction to the books, but she can’t help it. 

Spencer pauses on a book with a bright colorful cover that was in the middle of the stack. It’s the only one he pauses on and Margaux’s face lights up.  

“I loved Howl’s Moving Castle !” Her voice pitches up in enthusiasm. She starts talking with her hands again, “It’s fun, and the cast of characters who, in a magical world, feel so relatable. The two leads also have great dialogue! I was genuinely laughing out loud.” Margaux’s face is split into a grin as she explains the book to Spencer without spoiling anything.  

She’s so filled with joy as she talks about the book, it doesn’t take him but a second of listening to her to know he’s sold. He’s reading this, her genuine joy selling him on it. He doesn’t have to look through the rest of the stack, though he’s sure she’s likely read all the books she offered him.  

“I’ll take it.” He said, moving to stand up to purchase it at the counter.  

She moves to stop him, “Don’t worry about it! You can pay on your way out. You look like you’ve been struggling with those crutches.” She tells him waving him back down to sit.  

“Just relax, drink and read. It’s what the Midnight Owl’s for.” She chirps happily shooting him a triumphant look as she moves to walk back to the counter.  

Margaux goes back to working on creating an order for books back at the checkout counter. She has the work desktop open back to the list of books she was cross referencing for prices. She goes back and forth from looking at her handwritten list to researching prices from different distributors.  

The couple who was there earlier finally get up, waving goodbye to Margaux.  

“Have a great night y’all! See you next week.” she tells them with her own wave that’s brief as she makes her order.  

The only noise in the store is some shuffling and the music playing overhead and Margaux humming along to it. It’s a mix CD she burned a few years back and most of the songs are still her favorite. She keeps meaning to make a new one, but she just hasn’t had time. Her eyes wander from her computer to check on her new customer reading. She doesn’t want to hover, but she is trying to gauge if he’ll be a regular or not. She hopes so, he seemed nice enough.  

Spencer can feel her eyes on him occasionally, he can see her fidgeting behind the counter. Every other song he can spot her leaning out of the corner of his eye to look over to him. He tries to hide his grin; he knows that look well. She’s trying to see if he’s enjoying the book. Spencer tries to read at a normal pace, even though he can read twenty thousand words per minute, that defeats the purpose of him trying to get out of his apartment to just devour this book. Plus, he kind of enjoys watching the store clerk. 

She’s full of energy and he has no idea where it comes from, but it’s almost a nervous energy. She’s constantly moving, either fidgeting or walking through the stacks to check or tidy the books. She’s also passed in front of him a few times to check the cafe machines or even grab a pastry he’s sure has been there for too long, and she feels bad about selling it.  

Spencer stays there for a few hours; he really doesn’t notice how long until the door opens and the bell chimes again.  

“Morning!” The new woman cheers sleepily.  

Margaux waves at her, “Morning Josie. There are still a few pastries left from yesterday, but I put them in the back fridge for you.” 

The new woman waved back, “Thanks, I’m going to prep for today.”  

Spencer finally looks at the time and realizes it’s five in the morning, he sighs standing up. He grabs his crutches and pushes himself toward the counter to pay for his book. If he’s lucky he could get an hour or two of a nap before work.  

He gently slides the book over to her and her whole face brightens, “Have you liked it so far?” she asks him.  

Spencer grins “It’s charming. You were right about the cast, it’s a great blend of characters that shouldn’t fit as well as they do together.”  

Margaux’s nodding excitedly. “I don’t know if you’ve gotten to a certain part, but I won’t spoil it, I loved how they explain the magic that affects Sophie! It was a fun book.” 

Spencer hands over some cash to pay for his book. “I’ve liked it so far. I’ll have to ask for another recommendation.” He tells her.  

If Margaux was a dog, her ears would be pointed up and tail wagging, she cannot contain her pure joy.  

“Absolutely! Anytime, it’s one of my favorite things.” She pushes her dark hair back and she looks down at the table nervously pushing his book back toward him with his change.  

“I’m always happy to see a returning face.” She said looking up at him, her indigo eyes sparkling. “I’m Margaux by the way, I don’t know if I introduced myself.” 

Spencer takes the book and his change; she smiles brilliantly at him, and he feels a little enchanted by the bookstore clerk. He returns it. “Spencer. It was nice to meet you.”  

He gives her a small wave before walking out, crutches pushing him forward.  

The one about Halloween  

Margaux has decided that she does not care if it’s only September, she is decorating for Halloween. Maybe it’s that she’s festive or maybe it’s from growing up in a southern community that went all out for decorations, but she is determined that the Midnight Owl will be the place to be for October. She’s also planned a few events for the spooky month for all ages.  

She has a few reading hours planned for children during the day, costume contests, and some trick or treat candy lined up to buy. Her shopping list was filling up quickly. For the nighttime events she’s gotten together with Josie to throw a movie night every Sunday night at eight in October. She’s already planned a lineup of movies to play and popcorn to order. Margaux still can’t decide on having two movies or not, a family friendly one first and then a scary one. She’ll figure it out.  

To say she’s bubbling with excitement is an understatement.  

She was in the middle of dragging out one of the boxes of decorations from the attic when the door chimes open.  

“Welcome in! Help yourself to shop or if you wait a few minutes, I can fix you a drink at the cafe!” She shouts from behind the large box she's carrying. It’s not heavy, filled mostly with paper and plastic decorations. The box itself is just quite large and it blocks her view when she’s walking. 

“What are you doing?” A soft chuckle passes through, and she recognizes it immediately. It’s her new favorite regular.  

She sets the box down in a huff behind her counter and looks at Spencer exasperatedly. 

“If you must know, I’m preparing for Halloween.” She said matter-of-factly.  

Spencer’s hazel eyes light up, the same way he gets when he’s about to tell her a long list of facts about something. She loves it when he gets excited. It’s contagious. 

“Oh, please continue then. It’s never too early for Halloween.” He said happily. 

Margaux let out a burst of laughter and it echoes in the room, “Thank you! Finally, someone who understands.” She teases him. 

Spencer’s been coming in almost every night since his first visit. It’s only been a month, but Margaux loves talking to Spencer. He’s full of endless information and he loves to read just as much, if not more, than she does.  

He has an unfair advantage though. He had admitted how quickly he could read to her in passing a few weeks ago and her jaw dropped. She didn’t believe him at first.  

- 

 “Okay, that’s the fifth book you’ve finished in like two days Spencer. Are you even actually reading them?” Margaux had teased him, when he returned to the shelves looking through her selections.  

“Of course I do. I just happen to read twenty thousand words per minute.” He said easily running his fingers along the spines of the books as he pursues.  

Margaux scoffs, “Yea right.” She rolled her eyes. “Just say you skim through them.” 

Spencer shakes his head, “I’m serious, I have an eidetic memory too.” he tells her.  

She blinked at him a few times in disbelief before just bursting into a fit of small giggles. 

“Wow, I wish I could read that fast. I’d get through my TBR so much faster!” She said impressed.  

Spencer pauses looking at her, trying to assess if she’s trying to make fun of him or not. Her face is split into a wide grin, and he realizes she is intrigued by this little tidbit. She didn't think it was weird, that he’s weird.  

Spencer felt his face flush a bit, and he just shrugged it off. “It’s not a big deal.”  

“No, it’s just a really cool fact about you.” She said like it was obvious.  

Spencer mouth tighten into a fine line, and he shook his head, “That would be a first.” he had mumbled under his breath.  

She didn’t press him, but she did file away in the back of her mind his response for later. Clearly Spencer wasn’t used to someone reacting positively to this tidbit about him.  

- 

Margaux looks at Spencer as he stands there watching her. He’s in his work clothes, which she’s used to by now, but it’s the opposite of what he wore when they first met. He’s in a purple button up shirt that he’s rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. His cardigan is hanging off his faded brown leather satchel sitting against his hip. He’s leaning on his crutches as she assesses him.  

“C’mon,” she says waving for him to follow her. “Let’s make something fall flavored to get rolling with the season.” She suggested a small smile tugging at her lips.  

Spencer just nods and follows her toward the cafe section.  

“Are you a fan of pumpkin flavors or do you prefer other autumn flavors?” She asked him as she walked around the counter to the coffee machines. 

The pickup counter for the cafe doubles as a normal place to sit and Spencer grabs a stool to sit in, leaning his crutches against the counter. 

“I only like my drinks sweet. Flavor isn’t too important.”  

She hums in acknowledgement and gets to work on making him a drink. “I’ll just surprise you then.”  

Spencer brings out a few books he’s reading and places them on the table. While Margaux’s making his drink she asks him, “What’s your favorite book to read to get into the spooky spirit?”  

He perks up, “There’s plenty of options, I think I prefer something classic like The Shinning or maybe even an old compilation of ghost stories. Those are always good.” he said passionately.  

“Ooh! I’m obsessed with the paranormal!” She gasped in excitement. 

Spencer feeds into the enthusiastic response, “Did you know there are a multitude of categories of the paranormal? Most people only associate it with ghosts or demons, but ufology and cryptozoology are also subcategories. Personally, as interesting as ghost or demon possession stories are, I’m far more fascinated by cryptozoology and the creatures that different areas of the world claim to see and state they have proof of.”  

Spencer realizes he’s rambling and tries to cut himself off, but Margaux's eyes are wide as she actively leans against the counter giving him her rapt attention.  

She notices his abrupt stop and she tilts her head, “Keep going, you have my full attention! I’m trying to get into the spooky spirit!” She drawls out, her rich accent seeping through.  

Margaux turns to grab his drink and hand it to him. It's in a nice burnt orange colored mug, “It’s a maple chai latte. Felt like fall to me.” She said quietly, having a matching mug with him. She leans against the counter and bats her hand at his forearm. 

“C’mon tell me more!” She giggled.  

Spencer stared at her in awe for a moment, before he tried to hide his expression through drinking his latte.  

“Ghost hunting became popular in the early 2000s, but it’s been around since the 1920’s and even before then there were popular ghost stories told throughout history! Humans have always been interested in the afterlife which is why we’re probably so fascinated by looking for proof of the afterlife.” 

Margaux nodded and sips from her own mug, “Have you ever watched those ghost hunting shows before?” she asked curiously.  

Spencer shook his head no. “I don’t watch a lot of television.”  

She hums in thought, “Yeah, that checks out. Well, they’re super cheesy and trashy. Love them to be honest.”  

“Which one’s your favorite?” he asked, leaning closer toward her against the bar. 

It felt like it was only the two of them in the bookstore. Inside their own bubble, the world moved slowly inside the confines of the Midnight Owl.  

“This is gonna sound so awful!” She laughed lightly shaking her head, “There’s a show called Ghost Adventures, and the main guy, Zak Bagans, he’s such a dick to the ghosts! He instigates all the time, and I mean, regardless of if ghosts are real, he goes in hot ! Not to mention he always throws his costar Aaron into the worst places! It’s just insane, absolute trash.” She shakes her head in disbelief.  

“But you love it?” Spencer asked.  

Margaux gives him a deadpan stare, “Oh absolutely, it’s the best kind of quality trash.” 

She burst into a fit of giggles and Spencer couldn’t help but find it contagious.  

“Aaaaaaanyway~” She drags out, moving to grab her box of decorations.  

“Wanna help me decide how to decorate?” she asked him, grabbing a pumpkin garland out of her bin and tossing it dramatically over her shoulders like a scarf. 

Spencer brushes his loose hair out of his face and nods. He may still be useless on crutches, but he could help her... Kind of.  

Margaux empties the containers of the bin on the counter where Spencer’s sitting and he quickly grabs his mug to lift it up to avoid being knocked over from the avalanche of orange and black. She smiled at him apologetically before trying to dig out her favorite decorations.  

- 

Spencer’s face is twisted in a look of frustration as he sits in the corner reading. He came in a while ago and besides his drink, he hasn’t spoken much to Margaux.  

Which isn’t a bad thing, tonight was one of her busier nights. It was mid-October, and the festivities had been nonstop. Tonight was vampire night, which upon entering the building Spencer was already grimacing. There was a special drink deal on the board hanging above the cafe for anyone buying a vampire related book. Twilight , Dracula , Carmilla , Interview with a Vampire, just pick a title it was an option with its own fun themed cafe drink that was absolutely red. 

 It wasn’t like Margaux knew he had just finished working on a case that involved vampirism, but the odds weren’t in his favor for finding an escape from the most recent case. Halloween season had its ups and downs he supposed. 

There was no way of explaining his slightly irritable mood. Spencer hadn’t mentioned his work to her. She didn’t ask, and he didn’t feel like explaining that he spent most of his waking hours profiling serial killers. In the past it hasn’t made the best openers in conversation. It’s also nice to have this small corner of his life not be coated with unsubs, victims, and death. It’s just his favorite bookstore. 

Spencer looked up to see Margaux making more drinks, the cafe was popular tonight. She’s chatting up another woman who’s laughing at the joke Margaux’s telling her. The other woman is holding a book that Spencer is positive is a vampire novel.  

“And I have one raspberry mocha for a Carmilla lover!” Margaux’s voice rang out and she handed over the drink to the customer.  

“Come back Sunday for our movie night, we’re playing Beetlejuice !” Margaux said and waved goodbye to the customer.  

For eleven o'clock at night Margaux was busy. Busting out drink after drink and ringing up books at the cafe register. It was her idea to do a deal with a themed book and drink combo, but she didn’t expect to still be busy into the night. She hadn’t even had a break in customers to say hello to her regulars.  

For business, this was great, for her own mental health, she was struggling. She just needed it to slow down enough to catch her breath. She should have scheduled someone else on shift with her, but she wasn’t about to call for help now. It was her mistake, and she’ll live with it. She will make a note to make sure someone is on shift with her tomorrow night for a different themed deal.  

After another round of five more customers Margaux finally has a break. She sighed leaning against the counter and took a grounding breath. She doesn’t move for a minute, just catching her breath before she looks up and catches Spencer from his chair looking at her. She shoots him a shaky smile that is supposed to be reassuring but actually looks like she's about to cry. Spencer’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he decides to get up and go toward her. The cafe was still bustling but no one was sitting at the counter. Spencer shoves his book into his bag, grabs his crutches and hobbles to the counter.  

“Busy night?” he asked, already knowing the answer but trying to see how she was doing.  

Margaux’s midnight eyes look up into his hazel ones and she looks worn. “In my head, the whole vampire bomb and Halloween themed event seemed like a good idea. For profit, absolutely. For my sanity? I never wanna see another Twilight shirt or raspberry flavored item for a while.” she said in a groan leaning against the counter.  

“What is Twilight ?” Spencer asks her.  

He doesn’t know anything except that it has something to do with vampires and its popular enough that the victims of the latest case were also obsessed with it. He knows it’s a book, but besides that, he has no clue.  

Margaux blinks at him for a moment, trying to deduce if he’s being serious or not. “Very funny Spencer, I know you’re not asking what the pop culture phenomenon Twilight franchise is.” She replied with a laugh. 

After a moment of looking at Spencer’s confused face she realized he was in fact, unaware. Her eyes widen.  

“Wait, wait, wait, you seriously don’t know? I mean it’s like everywhere. The second movie is coming out in less than a month. I don’t think I’ve sold so many copies of a book in my life. I can’t keep New Moon on the shelves.” she said almost exasperatedly, but the smile on her face gives her away. If Spencer didn’t know any better, he’d think she was getting a kick out of it. He knows by now Margaux won’t make fun of him; she’s elated for a completely different reason. 

“I just know it’s popular and about vampires.” He replied with a shrug.  

“Oh my god, I get to explain Twilight to you.” Her face splits into a massive grin, her energy returning quickly.  

Spencer quirks an eyebrow at her, “I thought you were over hearing Twilight?”  

“No, no, no, no! This is totally different!” She’s almost vibrating with excitement. “I’ve read all the books, I’m gonna let you borrow my copy next time you’re in! Actually, I’ll give you the first two since you read so fast!” her words are running together in a run on sentence she’s talking too fast. Her accent came through stronger than ever with her eagerness.  

He doesn’t have it in him to turn her down, she’s so thrilled. Spencer just finds himself too caught up in her own joy to tell her he had no interest in the book series. He finds himself agreeing to her letting him borrow her copies.  

“I can buy them if you need me too. I don’t want to take your copies unless, you’re sure.” He offers. 

Margaux shakes her head, “I can’t keep them on the shelves long enough for you to buy them. Just go ahead and take my copies.” She moves to make Spencer a drink that isn’t one of the red blood themed drinks on the menu. “It’s not a big deal. I do have a lot of sticky notes in there though, my friends and I read it for a book club night.”  

He sits up a little straighter, suddenly becoming more interested in reading these books. Not because of their pop culture relevance but because he could read Margaux’s commentary. There was something special about that, sharing a book with annotations. 

“I’ll bring one too.” He finds himself offering before he can think.  

Margaux’s face glows as she hands him a chai latte. “I’d love that! It’ll take me a bit longer to read than you will.” she joked lightly. 

“It’ll be worth it; I haven’t had someone to talk to about books since my mom.” He said looking down at his drink, his eyes growing distant for a split second. 

Margaux opens her mouth to ask but quickly shuts it, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself. She might be nosy, but she knew when to not pry. It was how Spencer seemed to be somewhere else in his mind, if only for a moment. It was enough to know that she had no business asking him to open a can of worms he maybe didn’t want to. Instead, she turns around to grab a set of fake vampire teeth to put in her mouth. They were small and awkward and not cute by any means, but if she could get him to smile, that was all she needed.  

She patiently waits for Spencer to look back up at her as she rests her head in her palm and keeps her face neutral. The fake teeth are making her mouth uncomfortable, but she’ll survive.  

When Spencer does look up and sees Margaux dramatically batting her eyes at him and grinning madly with children’s plastic vampire teeth, he can’t control the bubbling laughter that takes over him. His shoulders shake with the full body movement, and he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“Where did you get those?” he asked through his fit.  

She turns to spit them out into the trash, her mouth disgustingly filled with drool from the uncomfortable teeth. She covers her mouth and grabs her own drink to flush out her mouth.  

“They were a gimmick for the themed drinks tonight.” she finally replied. “Good for a quick joke not for actually wearing.” she said groaning. 

“Pretty sure they are made for children’s mouths.” Spencer teased. 

She shrugs and sighs, “Well, being a vampire for Halloween is off the list of options this year. I don’t want to wear those for a whole night.” 

“Probably better off.” He said trying to not immediately focus on Dante and his manager coercing a mentally ill young woman into committing vampire ritual like murders. 

“Yeah, the whole thing with that celebrity kinda left a sour taste in my mouth.” she mentioned grimacing.  

“Dante?” Spencer asked for clarification. 

“Yeah, it was all over the tabloids,” she pointed to the magazine stand by the main register. “Got them in this morning.”  

Spencer tries to not make a face as he sees them, “You read that?”  

Margaux lets out a loud snort of a laugh. “No, no, no, oh god!” She stands up a little straighter and pushes her dark hair out of her face. “I don’t trust a TMZ article as far as I can throw it, but those murders are real. Making it look like vampire bites... that just skeeves me out.”  

Spencer drinks from his mug but nods his head in agreement. He didn’t peg her to believe paparazzi reports. The magazine articles would be wrong anyway; they didn’t make the arrest until that afternoon. It was refreshing to see someone not believe everything they read.  

“If vampires are off your list, what other costumes are you thinking about?” he asked, trying to change the subject.  

“No idea.” Margaux groans out in irritation. “I usually do group costumes with my friends but, kind of hard when they live 600 miles away.”  

“South?” he asked.  

She snorted with a roll of her eyes, “Aw geez what gave it away?” she teases with an exaggerated drawl, making her accent thicker than normal.  

Spencer shakes his head in amusement. “Very funny. Why move here?”  

Margaux tenses up, avoiding his doe eyes. She looks down biting her lip nervously. “It’s uh, a long story.” she said quietly.  

Her body almost looks like it’s trying to shrink in on itself. Spencer doesn’t need to be a profiler to understand her body language. Whatever it is, she’s not ready to share it.  

Instead, he tries to be reassuring that he’s not prying for information.  

“I’m a transplant too. I grew up in Las Vegas.”  

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, “I’ve never been, is it really just the strip filled with casinos or are there nice pockets of peace and no tourists?” she asked. 

Spencer sighs, “It is a lot of tourists. There’s plenty of local places, ones that are only there if you’ve grown up knowing how to get to them.” he told her in a quiet voice, almost conspiratorially.  

Her mouth splits into a smile that reaches her eyes, her dark indigo eyes sparkling, “So you’ll be my tour guide, right?” 

Spencer’s face heats up from the suggestion and Margaux’s giggles fill the room.  

“I’m just teasing you,” she pats his arm reassuringly before going to grab a pastry from the front display.  

“Come on and split this last cookie with me, I know I'm not going to sell it.” She said grabbing a chocolate chip cookie and warming it up before cutting it in half.  

Spencer’s face is still tinted pink but the soft cookie and the way it melts when he bites into it and seeing Margaux look happier than earlier, it's enough for him. A small corner of peace in the world inside the Midnight Owl. 

The one after Haley’s funeral  

Margaux’s sitting at the checkout counter reading the book Spencer most recently traded with her. It’s one of the Sherlock Homles books, which she had admittedly never read before. She had watched plenty of films and shows but reading it never really crossed her mind.  

She joked about making Spencer watch The Great Mouse Detective when she finished so she could explain her first introduction to Sherlock Holmes. He had no idea what she was talking about, which Margaux found charming in its own way. She loved introducing Spencer to the pop culture media that just filled her brain. Even if it was trashy. She had promised him The Great Mouse Detective was anything but trash. A childhood classic for her.  

She takes her time reading the books Spencer gives her. He started leaving small post-it notes for her in them with commentary and questions. It was like they had their own language, and it was books. Even if he let her borrow a genre, she had no interest in, she suddenly was invested. It was a way to get to know him, and in turn he took her books happily. Her annotations were way more scattered brained and filled with tiny commentary to herself.  

She saw Spencer reading one of her books she let him borrow and he laughed, loudly, in the middle of the store. They were both flushed in embarrassment. It was a busy night, filled with university students studying late at night, so it was mostly silent besides the music Margaux was playing through the speakers. She also knew she had written something insulting about one of the characters on that sticky note. She got creative with her insults, and she had completely forgotten to take that out before giving it to him. Spencer had teased her about her comments on Gale from The Hunger Games for the rest of that night.  

She’s in the middle of The Hounds of Baskerville when the door opens. She looks up to greet them but her face falls when she sees Spencer. She slowly closes the book and moves to walk toward him. 

His eyes were hollow and the normal dark circles under his eyes seemed impossibly darker than usual. Spencer just seemed sad and defeated. Margaux had not seen this side of him and all she wanted to do was press her thumb to his forehead and smooth out the furrow of his brow. To get him to relax, if only for a moment. 

“Hey honey, what’s wrong?” she asked gently walking toward him. She reaches out to rub his arms affectionately, “What happened?”  

Her voice is soft and sweet, the way she said honey with her drawl feels like a hug. Spencer just needed a minute. One second of peace. The image of Haley’s body unmoving with blood still fresh behind his eyes.  

“It’s been a long week.” His voice comes out a little rough. He’s haggard from the flight from Nashville and he really didn’t want to go home.  

The only comforting place he could think of immediately was the Midnight Owl, Margaux. Her warm voice and comforting drinks were the only things he could stand to be around.  

Margaux’s face softens at his words, and she tilts her head, “Do you need a hug?” she asked softly.  

There’s a shaky sigh that escapes Spencer’s mouth and he just nods his head, unable to form the words.  

Margaux pulls him into her embrace gently, her arms wrapped around his shoulders tightly. She rubs soothing circles into his back and Spencer holds onto her waist. Her body radiates heat and it's comforting as he shoves his face into her shoulder. She smells like vanilla, cloves, and parchment paper and his whole body relaxes into her. She holds onto him until Spencer pulls away, not wanting him to feel like he was burdening her. The store was empty anyway, it's been a slow night. 

He takes a deep breath before peeling himself off her. He moves his hands to hold her arms so he’s supporting himself. Margaux’s eyes soften as she looks him over, her hand coming up to cup his face.  

“You don’t have to talk about if you don’t want to, but I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” She whispers softly.  

Spencer relaxes against her touch and doesn’t say much, just hums in response. He eventually finds his words, “My friends wife died recently, and it just, it was a shock.”  

He doesn’t want to get into how Haley died. That his job makes him and his coworkers targets. The people they love. George Foyet died at Hotch’s hands for killing Haley and attempting to kill Jack. Spencer watched Hotch’s face crumble, fall and lose what he loved the most. He knew Hotch didn’t want to divorce Haley, he loved her and his son with his whole heart.  

That love had cost him Haley’s life. 

“Oh hun,” Margaux’s voice brings him back, “I’m so sorry.”  

He shakes his head, “I’ll be fine. I’m just processing it.”  

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, you’re allowed to process and grieve, especially if you knew her.” She tells him firmly. “C’mon, go sit down and I’m gonna make a delicious warm drink and we can just relax alright?”  

Spencer gives a tiny, tight smile and lets her grab his hand to pull him to one of the nicer chairs. He sets his cane against the armrest and is floored by how easy everything is with Margaux.  

She doesn’t push or pry for information, let’s him ramble, and Spencer doesn’t think he’s had a real friend outside of the BAU in a long time, much less someone his age. As much as he loves his team, there are times where they don’t understand him. It’s a lot easier to be himself with Margaux. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t know what he’s doing most of his days, and he could argue with himself that she doesn’t know him. Almost 90% of his life is the BAU, and who is he if he isn’t Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI agent in the Behavioral Analyst Unit? A small part of him hopes he would be the person he becomes when he enters the Midnight Owl.  

He’s too lost in his thoughts to notice her walking over with two steaming mugs.  

“Here, it’s just tea but I think you need a relaxing drink. No caffeine.” She said her tone is sweet as she looks him over.  

She sits on the arm rest of the chair cradling her own mug. “Can I try something?” she asks him.  

Spencer is drinking from his mug, but he mutters an agreement under his breath.  

“Lean back fully in the chair.” she instructed. 

He does as he’s told, he lowers his hands to his lap, mug still warmly pressed into his hands. Spencer isn’t sure what she’s trying to do until her hands are running through his hair, feather light. She’s not massaging his scalp, just the lightest of touches as she cards her fingers through his long hair. Spencer’s eyes close and he almost moans from how the tension leaves his body immediately.  

Margaux lets out a tiny snort but continues the motions.  

“My momma used to do this when I was little.” She whispers to him, keeping her voice low.  

“I would be asleep in an instant.” she emphasized with a quiet snap of her fingers. 

Spencer’s eyes flutter open to look up at her, his big doe eyes looking up to see Margaux’s soft features look highlighted in the warm glow of the lamps. She looks down at him and tilts her head.  

“I might pass out like this.” he murmured in a low voice. 

“You can if you want. Promise I won’t let anyone bother you... not that anyone’s coming in anytime soon.” She drawls out looking around at the empty shop.  

“Just a quick nap, twenty minutes.” he told her, voice already fading and his eyes growing heavy.  

She doesn’t respond to him, just continues stroking his hair until he falls asleep. He feels the warm mug leave his hands and he hears ceramic clank onto the wooded side table next to him. 

Margaux watches Spencer sleep, giving him much longer than twenty minutes. His dark circles told her enough, he needed this nap more than he was letting on. It takes less than five minutes for Spencer to pass out. His body relaxed into the chair with all tension leaving his body. She slows down her movements until she feels safe enough to stop. His small snore telling her he was asleep.  

She moved to stand and went back to her duties, which wasn’t more than inventory tonight. Mondays were always slow. 

Margaux moved about the bookshop, filing away books, crossing off things on her checklist, and besides the few customers that came in for less than twenty minutes each, the night was quiet. Enough so that she let Spencer sleep much longer than twenty minutes.  

Spencer sleeps peacefully for most of the night. She checks on him occasionally, and besides the few snores, he’s sound asleep.  

Around four in the morning he stirs awake, blinking blearily and looks around the store. Margaux hears him and pokes her head out from behind a shelf.  

“Good morning sunshine!” She teases in a chipper tone.  

Spencer looks at her confused before looking down at his watch. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked, tone not accusing, just confused.  

Margaux shrugged and made her way over to him, “You looked like you needed the sleep.”  

She gently reaches her hand up to smooth the furrow of his brow. “You’ll die young from all that stress you’re carrying on your shoulders.” She tells him softly. The way she’s gently touching his forehead is like she’s trying to erase the stress and pressure.  

Spencer sighs into her touch, “For sleeping on a chair, it was pretty peaceful.” he murmurs.  

Margaux snorts in amusement. “Well, at least I know they’re comfy.”  

“I sleep on planes frequently, so this is much better.” he tells her. 

“Travel a lot for work?” She asked. 

Spencer just nods. Not wanting to explore too deep into his job. The job that was leaving him sleepless most nights. 

“Do you feel any better?” she asks quietly.  

He nods solemnly. “Better than when I arrived.” he said with a shrug.  

Margaux frowns but doesn’t push, she pushes his hair back again giving him a reassuring smile.  

“I’m a good listener if you ever need to talk. Promise.” She puts out her pinky finger in the childish gesture of a pinky promise.  

Spencer finds himself smiling, finding it charming. Regardless of his problem with germs, it doesn’t feel so intense with Margaux. She’s not a stranger anymore. He hooks his pinky with hers.  

“Not now.” He whispers. “But someday...” 

“Someday.” she reaffirms. 

The one about family  

Spencer’s surprised to see that Margaux isn’t working one random night in November. He knows that, of course, Margaux can’t possibly be working every single night he comes in. It just throws him off when he doesn’t see her immediately. The sunshine woman behind the bar making him a new sickly sweet coffee to try. She’s only ever missed one day max two, so he doesn’t think much of it. Just a blip on his night. 

One night without her suddenly turns into half a week. Everyday Spencer walks in and it’s not her bright bubbly voice greeting him. It’s one of the handful of people who work the late-night shift. They aren’t strangers, Spencer’s ran into a couple of them occasionally. So, when Spencer comes into the bookstore to see, yet again, Robert, manning the front desk lazily flipping through a magazine, his mild frustration turns to worry. Margaux’s been gone for four days and none of her coworkers seem to know why. 

What if she’s sick? What if something happened to her? Did she take a vacation? Is she in danger?  

The thoughts consume Spencer so much he almost calls Penelope to track her down. Or at least give him her address to check on her. He pulls himself together and realizes that it would be a bad idea and an invasion of her privacy. He’ll just have to wait it out. 

Spencer does wait, mostly because he’s forced too. The BAU never truly stops working. 

When he finally sees Margaux again it’s near the tail end of November and way too close to Thanksgiving for his liking. He feels like she’s been gone for ages, but it’s only been two weeks. The door chimes behind him as he walks in, he’s expecting to see her big dark indigo eyes light up with a smile on her flushed pink cheeks. The way she’s always greeted him.  

Instead, he sees a side of Margaux that he’s not used to at all. She looks tired, exhausted. The dark circles under her eyes could compete against his natural ones. She’s wearing glasses which he’s never seen on her before. Her hair is haphazardly tied up, and Margaux’s in a large well-worn sweater that reads, ‘Read Banned Books’. He doesn’t think she’s slept much, if at all, since he last saw her.  

She looks like a zombie, barely functioning. 

She doesn’t even register Spencer enter; she’s standing at the checkout counter finishing a transaction with a customer. She’s swaying on her feet the whole time.  

Spencer lets her finish the interaction before coming over to the counter, concern clear on his face. 

“Margaux?” He says her name softly as he approaches.  

Her eyes fly up to him and widen a little in surprise, her body reacts with a small flinch. “Oh god Spencer!” She gives a soft laugh her hand coming up to clutch her chest, “You scared me! I didn’t hear you come in.” she tries to calm herself down. 

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes and Spencer can tell. It doesn’t take a profiler to see she’s not herself. Her eyes are only half open, her hands shaking from what he can only assume is the obscene amount of caffeine she probably has in her system. Everything just seems muted, not in the bright colors he used to seeing her be framed in. 

“Are you feeling okay? You’ve been gone for a while.” he prompts, trying to get something out of her. A clue to what might have happened. Anything. 

She shakes her head, “I’m fine, everything’s fine.” She said a little too quickly.  

Spencer doesn’t buy it, but he’s kept enough secrets to himself to know he probably shouldn’t go looking into friends’ private lives. Some things he knows he’d rather keep to himself... but seeing her like this, he wants to help.  

She avoids his eyes and starts to play with her hands on the counter. “I-” she opens her mouth but promptly shuts it again. She bites her cheek with a frown plastered on her face.  

“Sorry, it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.” She says quickly before turning to grab some books from behind the desk to busy herself with.  

She doesn’t want to talk about or think about it. It’s been a long two weeks, and she just needs some normalcy. Something that she knows she can do and enjoys.  

Margaux feels Spencer’s eyes burning into her. She’s trying to keep her usual high energy, she truly is. Everything has been so rough this month; she just needs a break. The bookstore was her solace. The Midnight Owl wasn’t just a job, it was Margaux’s home. Her safe haven. 

She didn’t want to bring her real life here, not when sometimes her only highlight is seeing Spencer and sharing books back and forth. If he starts asking about her life outside the four walls of her shop, she doesn’t know if she can hold herself together. Not today.  

“Margaux,” he opens his mouth trying to get her attention again.  

“Really Spencer, it’s fine, I’m fine!” she tells him, a short tone to her voice.  

She spins on her heels to walk somewhere, anywhere, else. “You know I have your book actually, let me return it. I left some notes in there.” She makes it five or six steps before she falters and sways again. Spencer reaches out to grab her and steadies her.  

“Forget the book Margaux, you don’t look fine.” He makes her face him. “You look exhausted.” He chastises her.  

She deflates immediately and lets Spencer guide her to a chair. He gently sets her down and he pries the book out of her hand and places it on the side table.  

“Sorry, you don’t have to take care of me.” she murmurs feebly swatting him away. “I just...” Margaux takes a deep breath. “I had to take dad to the hospital on Tuesday and it’s just been downhill all week...” she admits timidly. She pushed her glasses up her hairline and pressed the heels of her palm to her eyes.  

“I haven’t gotten much sleep.” she admits.  

“You’ve run yourself ragged.” Spencer lowers himself to be eye level with her. “Is he home now?” he asks gently. 

“No, they’re keeping him one more night.” She said with a heavy sigh.  

Her arms fell in between her knees, and she leans her head back exhausted. “It’s just been hard this past year...” Her voice is small and lingers with sadness.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked hesitantly.  

Spencer maybe doesn’t like talking about his hardships, but he’ll listen to Margaux’s if she lets him. He wants to desperately ease her mind, see her smile.  

She looks up at him, eyes wide as she assesses him. “I don’t want to put my problems on you Spencer.” She gives a tight smile. “I’ll figure it out.” 

Spencer reaches out to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Talking about it doesn’t mean that you’re inconveniencing me. I'm just worried.” 

She sighs, already feeling him chip away at her. She didn’t stand a chance against his big doe eyes looking at her like she was fragile.  

She takes a deep breath before answering him, “My dad has ALS, he was diagnosed a few years ago... I’ve been taking care of him.” she admits.  

“Where we were, the doctors just weren’t cutting it. So, I did some research and of course there were stellar doctors in DC... plus my baby sister came here for university so I just thought... maybe it would be easier. On all of us.” The tone of her voice gives her worry away.  

“Anyway, he just, he had an accident and fell down the other day. His legs are finally giving out and he’s being so stubborn about needing a wheelchair.” Her voice shakes and she closes her eyes.  

“It’s been a long week.” She finally admits looking up at Spencer with watery eyes.  

Spencer understands. He’s spent most of his life taking care of his mom because of her own illness. While Margaux’s dad is suffering from something different, he understands. Probably more than she realizes.  

“I get it, I do.” he tells her. Margaux goes to retort, but he cuts her off. “I took care of my mom for a long time. She...” He pauses looking at Margaux, debating for a moment on if he should tell her.  

“My mom has schizophrenia, and I committed her when I was eighteen.” he tells her with a tight frown. 

“It’s hard to take care of your parents, especially when it’s their job to take care of us.” He tells her sincerely. 

Margaux has tears pricking her eyes, “Oh Spencer, I’m so sorry.” 

He shakes his head, “I’m telling you this because I understand. I promise I do, it’s not easy.”  

Margaux takes a shaky breath; her heart feels like it’s a thousand pounds. “Does it ever get easier?” she asks softly.  

Spencer squeezes her hand, “No, it doesn’t. There are happy moments though. Moments where you know you’re doing the right thing, even if it’s difficult.”  

She sniffles and wipes her face, “Thanks, I uh, I needed that.” she said with a small smile.  

- 

It’s getting closer to Christmas. The bookstore is decorated and busier than ever. There’s a handful of special events but between people coming in to buy presents and university students staying all night to study for finals, Margaux has her hands full.  

There’s a second staff member working nights with her this month until the holiday break starts for the store. Which Margaux and Josie were adamant about closing the bookstore between Christmas Eve and New Years. If someone needed a book that badly they could go to a big box store.  

What she really doesn’t need right now is her baby sister coming to her place of work and harassing her about Christmas and their dad.  

“Bridget, I don’t have time to discuss this with you right now!” Margaux hisses out at her younger sister. “You didn’t spend Thanksgiving with us and daddy really wants you to come home just for Christmas.” She chastised her sister with a frown.  

Margaux has a pause in customers for the moment, but she knows that the large study group is coming in half an hour like they have been for the past week and half.  

“That’s not fair Maggie!” Her sister groans in frustration using Margaux’s nickname. “I made these plans months ago; Mark really wants me to spend Christmas with his family.”  

Margaux crosses her arms and looks at her baby sister sadly. “Birdie, we don’t know how much time we get with dad-” she starts but is cut off.  

Bridget’s face scrunches in disgust at her sister’s words and huffs exaggeratedly. “Good god Maggie! He’s not gonna die over the holidays, stop fucking guilt trippin’ me over every decision because it doesn’t revolve around dad!”  

Bridget’s annoyed and Margaux can tell, she always tries to skirt around her problems when she’s frustrated. She thinks Margaux’s trying to back her into a corner.  

“Birdie-”  

“It’s Bri. I go by Bri here.” Her baby sister crosses her arms and looks at Margaux in annoyance.  

“Look, I know dad’s sick, I’m not stupid.”  

“I didn’t say you were Bridget.” Margaux said defensively. 

She rolled her eyes, “I didn’t decide to pack everything up and move dad out to DC. Just because you’re closer doesn’t mean I’m going to stop living my life to take care of daddy.”  

Margaux bites her tongue. Trying to not fight with her sister, but her irritation rises in her throat. Burning words of resentment linger in her mind.  

“Fine. Would you please just call him on Christmas and please come by after the New Year. He really misses you.” She tries to plead with her sister.  

Bridget just waves goodbye as she walks out the door, “Will do. See you next year Mags!” she almost ran out the door.  

Margaux deflates, her shoulders dropping. She almost doesn’t hear Spencer walking up next to her holding a gift bag in his hands.  

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” he said.  

She looks up at him and smiles at her favorite regular. Her friend. She thinks they’re allowed to call each other friends now. He already saw her cry and that was a big step for her.  

Margaux shakes her head, “Yeah, we’re not as close as we used to be.” she mumbles under her breath.  

Spencer nods his head. He never had any siblings, but he can read her face well enough to know she’s not thrilled.  

“It’s fine.” she shrugs and gives a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She leans against the counter. “What’s that you got there?” she asked, changing the subject.  

She’s pointing to the gift bag in his hands. She tilts her head curiously.  

“Oh, this is,” he flushes for a split second rushing his words out. “This is for you. I know you’re closing for the holiday soon and I don’t know if I’ll have a last-minute work call or not so., I brought your Christmas present.” He fumbled through his words quickly, but he held out the small bag for her. 

She lights up immediately. Her eyes shimmer with excitement. “Aww, Spencer! This is so kind thank you!”  

She bends down below the counter and grabs her own item, “I actually have your present too.” she said shyly, handing him a wrapped package.  

Spencer is quiet as he gently takes the gift from her, a tiny smile on his face. He brushes his hair back out of his face as he looks at her softly.  

“This is so kind thank you.”  

Giddy giggles consume her, and she holds the gift bag. “Should we open them together or do you want to wait until Christmas?” She asked.  

Spencer shakes his head, “No no, you can open it now.” he reassures her.  

Margaux smiles, biting the inside of her cheek and opens her present. Under the tissue paper is a sweater that’s twice her size and it’s the softest thing she’s ever felt. She pulls it out and it’s a purple crocheted sweater with a beautiful sun right in the middle. It reminds her of one of the tapestries from the late nineties that would have been in Practical Magic or something like that.  

“Oh Spencer, this is perfect.” she says quietly holding it tightly to her chest. “Thank you so much, I love it.”  

Margaux pulls off her cardigan and immediately shoves the sweater on. She nestles herself inside it and grins widely, “It matches your scarf!”  

Spencer just takes in her joy and how she lights up, and he’s happy he could make her feel better.  

“Well go on open yours!” she said excitedly pushing her wrapped package toward him. 

Spencer gently peels back the wrapping paper and uncovers a white box; he opens the box to find a ceramic mug. Its custom made, with some uneven texture. It’s glazed a speckled purple and wrapped around the bottom is a quote, “Some books are so familiar that reading them is being home again.” -L.M. Alcott  

Spencer is quietly inspecting it, and Margaux starts explaining. She pushes her midnight hair behind her ear, “I uh, I took a pottery class in my free time this past year. Since you’re here so much I thought you would like your own mug.” she said hesitantly.  

Spencer’s eyes widen, “You, you made this? For me?” he asked in surprise.  

She nods, looking down at the counter nervously.  

Spencer makes his way around the counter and pulls her into a tight hug. “This is the best gift anyone's ever gotten me.” he whispers to her.  

She returns the hug holding Spencer tightly. She presses her face into his shoulder, and she feels infinitely better than how her night started. 

When they pull apart Margaux plays with the edge of her new sweaters' sleeves, a small blush on her face. “Do you go visit your mama for holidays?” She asked him.  

Spencer shakes his head, “Not all the time. My job doesn’t usually care if it’s a holiday or not.” he tells her.  

She nods, “Well, I hope you get to this year Spencer. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”  

He takes a shaky breath and nods in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll try to see her soon.”  

Margaux nudges him lightly, trying to keep the tone light, “Want a fresh drink in your new mug?” she teases. 

Spencer chuckles but nods his head. “I’d love that.”  

“We’re about to test run if I’m actually good at pottery. So, fingers crossed it doesn’t leak.” She jokes moving to the cafe counter at the back of the store. 

Spencer watches her walk away, with a skip in her step like the first night he came to the Midnight Owl. The way she easily glides through the crowd and chatters with customers and giggling.  

She shines bright like a star, like the sun. 

A/N: This is the first part of a series of long one shots following Margaux and her relationship with Spencer Reid. This starts in season 5.

[natrogersfics]

The Anthology - Epilogue

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

This would never not feel like a fever dream.  

That’s all Steve can think about as he smiles for the sea of flashing cameras before him, the massive poster of Captain America in his stealth suit towering tall in the background. It feels like just yesterday that he had walked onto set, hoping along with the rest of the cast and crew that they would do this project that meant so much to people some justice. And now here they are, prepared to show the world the final product.

He poses for a few more photos and signs a handful more autographs before Maria finally ushers him further down the carpet and straight into the path of the lively host waiting by the entrance to the theater, her camera crew hovering all around. 

“And here we have the man of the hour!” the host announces as he nears, and she turns her mic towards him. “How are you feeling tonight, Steve?”

“I’m extremely excited, Darcy,” he says truthfully, watching as she lights up in pleasant surprise that he had remembered her name. “We made this one as a love letter to all of Cap’s fans, so fingers crossed that they like it.”

Darcy beams. “I’m sure-” she begins, only to pause when she’s interrupted by a chorus of excited squealing. They both look up the carpet to see the cause of the commotion, prompting Darcy to chuckle. “Seems your costar has arrived.”

“Seems so,” he manages to say. Part of him is aware that Darcy still has her mic extended to him and that he’s now frozen stupid while on live television, but he doesn’t care. There’s nothing, absolutely nothing, that could pry his eyes away from the sight of Natasha slowly descending the carpet, looking every bit the movie star that she is with her hair falling in loose waves down her back and her lips painted crimson – a few shades deeper than the little red number she has on that hugs her in all the right places and falls just a little past her knees.

Natasha’s eyes meet his as she approaches, her lips lifting in that soft smile he knows is just for him. “Hi there.”

“Hi,” he says, offering his arm out for her to take. She links her arm with his, allowing him to guide her until she’s standing by his side. She looks even more ethereal now that she’s right next to him, and for the briefest of moments, it’s as though he forgets how to breathe. He sighs as a smile all but threatens to split his face in two. “You look stunning.”

“As do you,” she says, and he swears he sees a hint of a blush pave its way to her cheeks.

“The one and only Natasha Romanoff is here with us, ladies and dudes,” Darcy says, and it’s only then that he remembers that he’s still halfway through an interview. If Darcy is at all piqued by his lack of attention, though, she doesn’t show it as she turns excitedly to Natasha before pointing to the cameras. “Wave to everyone at home, girl!”  

Natasha chuckles, waving into the camera with her free hand. “Hi, everyone!”

“Natasha, can you tell us what your experience working on this movie was like?” Darcy inquires.

“Oh, it was magical,” she says. “Honestly, the cast and crew just gelled so well. We really became one big, happy family out there. Which is all you can really ask for when you spend months shooting for hours on end.” She turns towards him, her smile growing wider. “And, of course, it’s never a bad day at the office when you get to work with this one.” 

“Can confirm that lots of people were jealous of your job, yes,” Darcy says, causing both her and Natasha to laugh and him to sheepishly shake his head. 

“I will have the people know that she is also a joy to work with,” he says, leaning closer to the mic before looking back to Natasha. “Getting to watch her work every day was an absolute treat. There is simply no Black Widow without her.” 

“I paid him to say that,” Natasha quips, still holding his gaze even as she attempts to brush off his compliment. He winks in response, eliciting another smile from her. 

“Speaking of the people, though…” Darcy’s words cause him to turn back at the host just in time to see her eyes dart between him and Natasha before zeroing in on the hand Natasha still has resting on his chest. “I’ve been sent to do their work here, so I have to ask. There have been… discussions, if you will, on the interwebs these past few weeks about Cap and Widow’s chemistry maybe, possibly, extending beyond the screen...” She wiggles her brows. “Would either of you care to set the record straight right here, right now?”  

He chuckles at the conspiratorial smile that finds its way across Darcy’s face, and as he looks at Natasha next to him, he lifts a brow up in a silent question. They’ve discussed this ad nauseam at this point, and while he knows, unequivocally, what his answer is and that hers is exactly the same, the fact of the matter is that there would be no going back from this. His next words will alter the path of their lives moving forward, and he wouldn’t dare pull the trigger without her consent. But then her lips curl into that trademark smirk of hers, and that’s all the confirmation he needs to know that they’re on the same page. 

“Actually, Darcy, we would…” he says, his eyes never once leaving Natasha’s. From his periphery, he sees the mic that Darcy pushes closer to him, anticipating his response. He knows the words he wants to say, has rehearsed them in his head more times than he can count. Even so, he decides to let his hand slide to Natasha's waist instead, pulling her to him. 

“What are you doing?” Natasha asks, her eyes lighting up in a mix of surprise and amusement just as Darcy lets out a gasp. 

He doesn't respond, opting instead to lean down and slant his lips over hers. In an instant, they’re engulfed by the sound of the crowd cheering around them and of the cameras furiously flashing away, memorializing this moment forevermore, but he lets that all fade away as he deepens their kiss.

“Think that’s clear enough for them?” he asks when they finally pull away, smirking when she just snorts, pushing playfully at his chest. 

Chapter 8 | The Anthology Masterlist

[ddagent]

I've been really loving your writing! How about C1 for the prompts? I must know what that season 2 AU is. And maybe, if you have the time, D6?

Fanfic Menu Challenge

Aleida Rosales' first day at NASA had been intense. It was the first time she'd stepped foot into JSC since the day her father had been deported. There had been a scheduled field trip during her senior year but she'd called in sick that day; not wanting to see the familiar halls, to see Margo Madison. Aleida had long wondered what returning would feel like. But it had felt...right. She belonged in these halls, had worked her ass off to get a place in these halls. And not only was she now an engineer at NASA but she was working on one of the biggest missions since Jamestown: Apollo-Soyuz. With none other than one of the men who put Alexei Leonov on the moon.

At the end of her first day, Aleida wanted to make sure she said goodbye to Sergei. He had been kind: not pushing her to open up; asking only questions about the work. Always with a smile. But he was nowhere to be found.

In the ops office, she caught Elaine. "Hey, have you seen Sergei?"

Elaine tried her best to hide a smile as she finalised the new ops procedures. "He'll be with Director Madison."

Aleida felt a chunk of ice settle in the pit of her stomach. Why was he with Margo? Was she checking up on her? Did Margo think so little of her that she needed to be babysat? "Are you sure?"

Elaine checked her watch. "Well, it's about seven. He'll be there."

With a nod towards Elaine, Aleida fled the office and went to find Margo's. This would be the third office Margo had had since Aleida had known her. The first was nothing more than a cubicle: dim lighting, a mug full of tootsie rolls and toothpaste. The second had been larger, with a window no less and a couple of chairs. As Director of JSC, Aleida was expecting her office now to take up a whole floor. Maybe there was even a goddamn piano in there. Aleida felt rage build with every footstep, every clench of her hands. She was pissed at Margo for checking up on her. Pissed at Sergei for lying to her. He wasn't her friend. He was her damn babysitter.

As she rounded the corridor, Aleida caught sight of the open office door. Margo's assistant, Emma, had gone home. Light spilled from the open door, as did laughter. She recognised Sergei's laugh: he was incapable of getting through a shift without it. But in the months that she had known Margo, she had never heard that woman laugh.

"You do not think I will look fetching, yes, in a fake moustache and wig?"

Margo laughed again. What the hell? "Sergei, we are not hiding you when the Soviets come. You're with NASA, now. Front and centre."

"A perfect place to be for their snipers."

Through the open door, Aleida watched as Margo jabbed a finger in Sergei's direction. "Don't joke about that. Refill?"

"Please."

Margo stood up, took his empty glass, and went to a small bar by the wall of windows to refill their drinks. Aleida wondered what they were drinking. Vodka, maybe, as Sergei was Russian? Whiskey, brandy? Pepsi? But her speculation was cut off as her eyeline settled on Sergei. He wasn't staring at the artwork on the walls or at the bland carpeting. He was staring, unwatched and unbidden, at Margo Madison. His gaze was soft; his smile playful. Sergei stared, every atom within him yearning, as Margo poured them both another drink. Then, as soon as she turned around, a mask went up and Sergei was laughing and his eyes were harder. Like he'd never been watching her at all.

Margo sat back down and a new topic was introduced. "So, how was your new engineer?"

This was Aleida's moment. This was her time to storm in, to challenge them both. But she was rooted to the spot. Sergei replied and all Aleida could see was the familiar way he addressed Margo, the familiarity between them both. "She was wonderful, as you told me she would be. I am not surprised; you were her mentor."

"Hardly." Margo took a sip. "I knew her for four and half months eight years ago. I may have got her started but everything she is...it's all her." Another drink. "You'll keep an eye on her for me?"

"Margo—"

"—Sergei." He paused. She faltered, then spoke: "Please. You...you know what this means to me." Two drinks were quickly put aside. Sergei took Margo's hand in his. Their eyes met, and for a moment Aleida wondered whether she would watch her former mentor and her new one kiss in a quiet office. But Aleida blinked, and Margo was out of her chair, downing her drink, and putting it on the sideboard. "It's getting late."

"Of course." Sergei reluctantly finished his own drink. "Goodnight, Margo. See you tomorrow."

"Night."

Sergei left Margo's office, pulling the door closed behind him. He muttered words in Russian – Aleida didn't understand, but they seemed to be chastisements, hissing at himself and his behaviour. Sergei raised his head to leave and found Aleida standing in his path. He came to an abrupt stop. No questions about how long she'd been standing there, what she'd heard. Just: "This was a private conversation."

Aleida crossed her arms. "Looked pretty cosy."

"It is not. Director Madison and I...we discuss things. We have known each other a long time." Sergei joined her, sunk his hands into the pockets of his pants. He relaxed the closer he was from the door. "She does not question your capability, Aleida. She means only to make sure that you are well, that you are happy here."

"She could ask me herself."

Sergei smiled, softly, almost to himself. "Ah, but that would require Margo to challenge what has been instilled in her since she was first mentored: that this hallowed place is only for calculations, procedures. Not friendship or...love. She does her best, Aleida." His hand lightly patted her shoulder. "Please, give her space for her best to become better."

Aleida, reluctantly, nodded. Maybe she could give Margo a little leeway. But only a little. The moment she found out that Sergei was making detailed reports about her back to Margo, she'd cut both of them out. It would only dawn on Aleida later, when she understood the true reason behind the seven o'clock meetings, that discussing her work performance was the very last topic of conversation Margo and Sergei wanted to indulge in.

[the-guilty-writer]

Never Grow Up

Agent Rossi-Reid

Anthology Masterlist

David Rossi x daughter!reader,  Spencer Reid x reader, Criminal minds x BAU!reader

Summary: The role Gideon played as Rossi-Reid grew up.

A/N: This is sad. This is really sad. I don't apologize. Embrace the sad.

Based off Taylor Swift's Never Grow Up

CW: typical criminal minds talk of murder, very sad and angsty

---

Your little hands wrapped around my finger And it's so quiet in the world tonight Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreamin' So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light

---

Dave looked down at the little bundle of blankets that rested in his arms. It was a big day for the newest Rossi family addition- the team had come over to meet you for the very first time. It had been a lot for Dave, too. He thought profiling was the hardest, most time consuming, soul-sucking, job in the world, but you had proved him wrong. Turns out that the hardest, most time consuming, soul-sucking job in the world was being a parent.

But the joy you brought him made up for it all.

For about an hour the BAU agents had passed you around and Dave was grateful that after all the action you were dozing off in his arms, one of your impossibly small hands wrapped around his pointer finger. He smiled tiredly, knowing he had to put you down in your crib soon before he spent another night admiring your adorably tiny features. He sighed quietly and sent you down, hoping that you wouldn’t wake up. Your eyelids fluttered- hopefully with good dreams- but other than that you didn’t stir.

He walked over to turn on the nightlight; it was a gift from Gideon. The tiny plastic sparrow illuminated the room the perfect amount, but Dave couldn’t get over his closest colleague’s strange fascination with birds. Of course, you loved the little plastic bird- when you awoke at night you’d cry at first, but by the time your dad got to your room you’d be goggling at the feathered figure.

“Mio Passerotta.” It slipped out before Dave even had a chance to think about it. The Italian nickname was common enough that no one would think it was odd, but it felt more right than that. Gideon had named his son Stephen, in honor of Dave. It only felt right that your term of endearment- something your dad had thought about more than your actual name- was an ode to his friend. “Sogni d’oro, my sparrow. Ti voglio bene.”

---

To you, everything's funny You got nothing to regret I'd give all I have honey If you could stay like that

---

“Uncle Jason!” Your little legs carried you towards Gideon’s desk as fast as they could. “Uncle Jason look!”

“What is this?” he said in an exaggerated voice as you handed him a piece of paper and climbed into his lap. Your preschool and daycare were closed due to a holiday, but work never stopped at the BAU, meaning your dad had no choice but to bring you into the office. None of the agents minded- you brought a joy to the space so pure that it almost made the horror of their jobs disappear, even if it was only for the day.

Lucky for them you were now three years old and had recently discovered a love for drawing and coloring, which meant scrapped preliminary profiles that were blank on one side could be recycled into canvases for your artwork. Gideon couldn’t decide if it was right or not- having you put images of rainbows and butterflies on papers that had lists of victims names on the other side- but he tried not to think too hard about this.

“Wow!” Gideon held you steady on his lap with one hand and your drawing of… something… in the other. “Is this for me?”

“Yes!” You smiled up at him. “It’s a bird cos you like birds.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll hang it right here.” He tacked the picture up on the bulletin board that sat on his desk, next to the other three drawings of birds you had done that day for him.

“I should draw one wearing a hat!” you giggled. Gideon wasn’t sure what was so funny about the idea of a bird wearing a hat, but it made him chuckle anyway.

“(Y/N)!” your dad called for you.

You turned to Gideon. “I have to go, but I’ll be back!” You ran off towards your dad’s desk.

Gideon watched to make sure you didn’t fall. He opened up the file he had been so careful to close before you came over. Inside were pictures of young women with your same hair and eye color, each assaulted and murdered in cold blood. With a heavy heart, he looked over to you, innocently drawing another picture with your crayons.

Oh what he would give for you to stay like that.

---

You're in the car on the way to the movies And you're mortified your mom's droppin' you off At fourteen, there's just so much you can't do And you can't wait to move out someday and call your own shots

---

Aaron Hotchner was a man known for his calm and cool demeanor, but he was also known for his ambition, and occasionally that ambition made him more excited than normal. Recently, his ambition had led him to become an agent at the BAU. It was something he’d wanted since he first heard about the unit, and though he managed to make himself look poised on the outside, he couldn’t hide the fact that he was probably shivering in his suit. They really should warn the new agents that the basement, which served as the unit’s headquarters, could go from being a sauna one day to the arctic tundra the next day.

The heavy metal doors of the BAU opened, letting the cool air from the hallway sweep across his desk. He shook off the need to chatter his teeth and went back to his paperwork. It was beginning to feel tedious, doing the grunt work of all the agents above him. He knew that next week he would get to start looking at actual cases. After a few months he would be allowed to consult on simple profiles over the phone with small police stations that called for help. Maybe even if he worked hard enough he could make it into the field before he hit his first year-

“Agent Hotchner, over here!” Someone called to him from the outskirts of the space, where the senior agents had their desks. He suppressed a groan at the idea that another file would be added to his seemingly endless pile, but when he looked over at the person who had called him, they weren’t holding out a file.

David Rossi, the senior agent who approved Aaron’s request to join the unit, was walking towards him. Next to the senior agent was you. Aaron had seen you before of course, but he had never taken time to really look at the 14 year old that came into the BAU around 4 PM every day. But now there was no doubt in his mind that you were David Rossi’s daughter- your facial expressions, posture, and the way you walked was nearly identical to your dad’s.

“Agent Rossi,” Aaron stood up from his desk as the two of you approached.

“Please, Aaron,” Rossi said. “Just call me Dave. Now, this is my daughter, (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Agent Hotchner. Now, I have a flight to catch for an emergency case and the TSA is going to be a pain in my ass like they usually are.” He handed Aaron a key. “This is for SUV number 4 in the parking garage. Don’t crash it, but (Y/N) has to meet her friends in 25 minutes and the movie theater is 30 minutes away. Thanks.”

Dave gave Aaron a quick pat on the shoulder and then walked past him, his go-bag in hand, leaving the young agent alone with his daughter. Aaron honestly wasn’t sure whether he should be offended or not.

“Sorry you got put on babysitting duty,” you said, though you didn’t sound apologetic. “But we have to go.” You began to walk off.

Aaron blindly shoved papers into his brief case before following you out the doors of the BAU. “I’ll uh-” He looked down at his watch. “I’ll have to ask where the SUVs are kept-”

“No need.” You walked easily into the elevator and pressed a button. “I know this place like the back of my hand.”

You seemed confident enough in your manner that he didn’t question you. Aaron took a deep breath to try to compose himself. He was usually good at working under pressure, but something like this had never happened to him.

The elevator stopped and you walked off. Aaron followed you. Surely enough, you knew exactly where the SUV was kept. As he drove, you tried to get him to take short cuts to the movie theater, but he refused to listen. Still, you got there on time. He was about to pull up to it when-

“You can just drop me off here,” you said. The theater was about a block away. “I’ll just walk.”

Aaron shook his head. “Your dad trusted me and-”

“And I get made fun of every time I get dropped off somewhere in a government vehicle.”

Aaron looked over at you. The confidence that had shone through before dimmed just a bit. Aaron remembered being 14… thinking about all the things he wished he could do but he couldn’t. He knew that teenage desire to have independence; to be able to call the shots in your own life. 

Honestly, he was experiencing a bit of it right now being new at the BAU- having this need to look good for everyone, wanting to impress those around him, hoping that they’d loosen his leash just a little bit…

“One day what the other kids say about you won't matter,” he said and pulled up in front of the theater to drop you off. “Do you have a ride home?”

“Yeah, my actual babysitter will be here soon,” you replied. “Thanks for the ride, Hotch.”

“Don’t call me that,” he retorted.

You smirked at him before shutting the car door. You walked into the theater, but saw that Hotch was lingering around, just to make sure you really were okay, before finally leaving.

You hurried out to the payphone in front of the theater and dialed the number. “He stuck around for an extra seven minutes,” you said into the phone. “Trusted me enough to follow me to the SUV but didn't budge when I told him it'd be quicker to take the short cut. I'd give him a B+. Maybe an A-.”

You knew that Jason Gideon was smiling on the other end of the phone. “I guess he passed,” your uncle said. “I'll be there to pick you up soon.”

You hung up the phone, your part in the BAU new agent hazing ritual complete. Agent Hotchner had taken enough command, trusted you but not too much, and followed through with your saftey.

Part of you wondered if there was more to the "test" than just a good laugh for Gideon and your dad. Maybe you'd find out one day.

---

So here I am in my new apartment In a big city, they just dropped me off It's so much colder than I thought it would be So I tuck myself in and turn my nightlight on

---

After finding the letter at Gideon’s cabin, you held Spencer for what felt like hours as he cried. You wanted to cry too, but the shock of it all was too much. It wouldn’t sink in, like your body and mind refused to accept that it had happened.

Spencer left for the bathroom to take a shower. You knew he was probably standing under scorching hot water, trying to wash away the pain of it, or feel something other than grief. Normally you would have gone in and turned the temperature down, but your heart wouldn’t let you.

Right now, all you wanted was some sleep.

You slipped on your most cozy pajamas, tossing your tear-stained clothes in the hamper. The entire apartment felt colder than normal. You went to tuck yourself into bed, but stopped before you could get comfortable. Spencer would get out of the shower eventually and being the gentleman he was, he wouldn’t turn on the light in an effort not to wake you. You slipped out of bed and padded over to the nightlight to turn it on.

The little sparrow had faded in color, but it was still your favorite nightlight. You went to flip the switch, but it didn’t turn on; and for some reason, you knew that it wouldn’t matter if you changed the bulb or not… it wasn’t going to light.

It would never light again.

Whether your heart or your legs crumbled first, you weren’t sure, but you were on the ground. Your body shook and tears fell, but you made no noise. You stayed there, on the cold wooden floor, your head buried in your arms and your legs tucked up to your chest, until a hand fell on your shoulder.

You looked up in the dark to see Spencer, and then turned back to the sparrow that had lost its light forever. He sat down next to you and let you lean into him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly. It was his turn to take care of you now, and he knew that. Sometimes that meant asking you if you wanted to say something, even if you said nothing at all.

You looked at the bird in the darkness, remembering your life… your childhood room, the sound of the door opening when your dad got home, the way your footsteps had grown against the concrete floors of the old BAU headquarters, the wise words that Gideon always spoke. It was before your heart had been broken, before you had been hurt and scarred, before you had been deserted; back when everything was simple.

“I-” you started. “Sometimes I wish I never grew up.”

---

Taglist:

@doctorsteeb@saturnluvvr@padsfirewhisky@staygoldsquatchling02@mycoolusernamesstuff@reidstileschishiya

[fatuismooches]

*flops out of sewer*

I noticed a couple of posts where Dottore holds onto stuff from fragile reader and I thought what if he has a locked drawer in his office where he's keeps littles trinkets or stuff from reader and looks at it whenever he's stuck on something or not in the best of moods and one day when reader is in his office they discover it. ahhh fluff fluff ( *pulls out angst* and reader starts crying because they didn't think their stuff is good enough for Dottore to see and that's why it was in the rubbish in the first place. hehehe ) fluffy fluff.

Ok. Have a lovely day smooches!

* flops back into sewer *

-Jellofish Anon

SOBBING RN NO ONE SPEAK TO ME... I saw your other ask referencing if fragile reader drew/made some kind of art but it comes out poorly due to their illness too and I just. CANT HANDLE THIS OH MY GOD. THIS MADE MY TEENY HEART HURT SO BAD. A part of you always wondered what he did with your little things... this was Dottore after all you couldn't always tell what he'd do. Especially since your creations weren't of much material or scientific value. You just hoped that in the instance you gave it to him, he was happy, nothing more. But clearly, you underestimated your husband... you didn't know he looks at your poorly made artwork when he's frustrated with his research, or fiddles with your not-so-well-constructed accessories when he's no step closer to finding a cure. You didn't know he thinks about you and what you're doing right now when he's stuck signing paperwork. Sigh...

You didn't mean to snoop around his office. The segments said he'd be there, but he wasn't. So you thought you'd just wait around a bit to see if he'd show up. And what better to occupy yourself by sitting in Dottore's large spinning chair and getting comfy. Even his coat was hanging there! But then you noticed that one of his drawers was the tiniest bit open, which surprised you as he always kept that one particularly locked. You never cared much about it because you presumed it was just important Fatui or research materials. But now that it was opened, right in front of your fingertips... you just had a feeling that you needed to know. And what was revealed to you was no confidential Fatui matter. No top-secret experiment. It was... merely the small gifts and trinkets you gave him on a whim. You swear, some of these were trashed in the bin, that you never showed to him too. Nothing fancy... and nothing very nice since your shaky hands weren't good enough for that. And that drawer was LONG. You kept sticking your hand in it and pulling out more folded pieces of paper. And what did you know, he also still had some things from hundreds of years ago that you made, these ones better quality since you weren't sick. Or letters you wrote to him, clearly worn but still recognizable. To think all of this was kept right in his desk... The revelation immediately started your tears. Dottore cared more than he would ever let on or show. Of course he did.

You tried your best to place the items back just as you had found them but your blurry eyes made it hard and eventually you just shoved them into the drawer. Hopefully he wouldn't open it up for a while, but he'd know it was you whenever he did. You just ran to your room and cried for a bit, both happy and sad that he actually liked your stuff enough to keep 🚶‍♀️ (He found out on the same day and came to your room to find you sleeping, and tucked you in once he saw your face)

[whatsyourcolor]

Psycho-Pass Providence Review (with major spoilers!!! Don’t read if you don’t want spoilers!!)

As promised, I went to see Psycho-Pass Providence at Nijo Toho Cinemas in Kyoto. They had a little merch at the theater. They also gave everyone a booklet with artwork that I’ll include at the end of this review. If you want to wait until you can see the movie, please stop reading now because I will be basically telling everything that happened, good and bad. I was glad to see more people coming to watch the movie because when I bought the tickets most seats were available! We are a small fandom, but we are loyal! Now, please understand I don’t know any Japanese, so a lot of the information here is things that happened, but I can’t tell you much about the dialogue. I’m dying for someone to translate it once the movie becomes available everywhere.

Spoilers below:

The movie starts in a ship off the coast of Kanagawa, Japan, that is being attacked by the infamous peace breakers led by Akira Ignatov, Kei’s strange brother. The men in the ship are SAD agents that are getting murdered left and right. What do the peacebreakers want? Get something from a woman named Stronoyka who is currently traveling in the ship. From the synopsis we know this woman holds a dossier that details how to destroy Sibyl (or something of the sort, can’t quite remember). Kogami is the first on the scene in a suit reminiscent of a flying squirrel, but unfortunately, he’s too late. He looks hot as hell though when he jumps in the water.

The intro with a song by Ling Tosite Sigure had me excited to be watching a Psycho-Pass movie in a movie theater and surrounded by Japanese fans of the movie. It was sweet!

To skip ahead, SAD and the MWPSB have to work together. Akane, Kogami, Ginoza, Sugo, Saiga and Frederica travel to Dejima to investigate, I think. Let’s get to the meat of what the fandom wants to know.

Kogami and Ginoza Reunited

Akane is talking to Frederica and as they’re walking towards Division 1 office, they find Ginoza grabbing Kogami by the collar and yelling at him while Sugo is trying to separate them. What was Ginoza saying? No idea, but he was probably getting back at Kogami for leaving or coming back, etc.

At some point, however, Kogami and Ginoza fight together against their enemies. There seems to be some will for reconciliation.

Akane and Kogami Reunited

Akane walks in the room with Frederica when Gino is yelling at Kogami. Ko says “Kanishkan” at some point, so I think he’s addressing Akane, but her reaction is…should I say, enigmatic? Indifferent? Maybe she’s controlling herself?

SAD and the aforementioned team travel together to Dejima, and Akane and Kogami barely talk on the way. Once there, Saiga and Kogami talk and at some point they mention Akane. Later Akane calls Kogami while he’s in his room. They both sound like they disagree about something or like something is awkward between them and Akane hangs up on him, surprising him.

The thing about this movie is that they gave Akane the cutest outfits. Especially one in a very crucial moment. I’m so glad they made her look so cute and beautiful in the movie.

At some point the infamous peacebreakers begin their attack, and in the famous explosion scene, Frederica, Saiga, Kogami and Akane are walking down a hallway when an explosion goes off. Kogami doesn’t even think once about protecting Saiga or Frederica, he straight up runs to Akane and they fall to the ground. There are some lines of dialogue here while he’s laying on top of her. This is the part when Akane gets her bruised cheek.

In another scene, after Akira basically gives himself up, Kogami is interrogating him and then another guy shows up and shoots at them. Kogami gets shot and he ends up in the hospital. Akane visits him and when he makes to start smoking, she takes the cigarette off his mouth. There’s a moment here where it seems like he’s teasing her, because he sits up on his bed and kinda leans towards her. Very cute moment between them.

Saiga

Saiga and Kogami have a long talk about many things (I assume, remember, I don’t know any Japanese) but at some point they mention Akane.

A very sad, traumatic moment for Akane. They get attacked by a specially unkillable peacebreaker and Saiga ends up being held hostage by the guy. In the last moment, what we feared happens. Saiga’s last words are for Akane. Our poor girl suffers a lot and Kogami is there to console her and help her push through. They look so good together!

Akira, Kei, Maiko, Arata and Arata’s Dad

Honestly, most of the plot escapes me. Akira at some point even fights himself. He seems to be controlled by an old man who appears to be creating his own version of Sibyl. Akane is actually invited to Kei and Maiko’s wedding and on the same night Arata’s dad, with whom she seemed to have a very good relationship (there’s a lot of dialogue between Arata’s dad and Akane), killls himself while holding a photo of his family.

Craziness Ensues

Akane agrees to meet the mastermind behind all these terror attacks while a tactical team formed by Frederica, Gino, Kogami and Sugo fighting lasers from the air attack the headquarters of the peacebreakers. Here we see for the first time the two old dudes that become obsessed with Kogami in Season 3.

While everyone is fighting and there are explosions and shooting everywhere, Akane has a dialogue with the mastermind. At some point she draws her dominator but his crime coefficient is around 40. The whole place begins to collapse and by then, the mastermind has shot Akane on the leg and has her cuffed. They discuss and debate when he shoots her again (that asshole!). By the time Kogami shows up to rescue her, the other man is pointing his gut right at Akane’s forehead while they debate. At some point Akane says something that irks the guy and he pistol whips her a little bit. Kogami shoots him and gets her out of there.

The craziest plot twist

They show Akane dressed in a ceremonial uniform (and she looks so beautiful!) while Kogami is confined to an isolation facility. He begins reading a letter she wrote to him. They show her at a ceremony where it seems she will be recognized for her achievements. It is here when Akane shoots Chief Kasei in front of everyone.

They show Mika running to arrest Akane for her crime and she yells at Akane with frustration for what she did. Akane offers no resistance. As Kogami is reading the letter he looks angry, frustrated and sad for what Akane did. Why did she do it? We will have to wait until someone translates the movie.

Akane’s face is plastered all over the news as the inspector who went crazy and killed her boss. They show a parallel of Kogami walking out of the isolation facility while Akane is walking in. They don’t cross paths, but once Akane is alone she completely breaks down sobbing uncontrollably. It was so sad to see her suffer like that! Then they show Kogami walking free on the street and he says something and then the movie ends. Did Akane go to jail because of Kogami?

I’ll write more thoughts tomorrow! Overall it was well made. Lots of CGI and explosions almost made me think at times that I was watching a Transformers movie.

[nicki0kaye]

random Kallus hc inspired by someone else's post #2

man he's gotta hate that he lost his bo-rifle to fucking Thrawn

like so the moral of the Honorable Ones to me was Kallus realizing he has nothing of value in his life--he has TWO personal items to his name; this fuckin glow rock and his bo-rifle which he has just learned is his by right. Regardless of what he did to Lasan, regardless of all the awful reasons he should never be accepted by any of his enemies, that fucking bo-rifle is his and no Honor Guard of Lasan can argue otherwise. There are a lot of reasons he turns on the Empire, but this is where it starts. The realization his life is so small and so empty, and he just limped back to it. Why? Why is this life worth living? And with more research, it stops being a selfish desire to ditch and becomes an informed hatred of the Empire, BUT

lets go back to that kernel of rebellion. Kallus' life is small and empty. He's got a Rock and Bo-Rifle. That's all that defines him outside his identity as a ISB officer.

He just acquired the Rock. He's been living with bo-rifle as his single defining trait for maybe a decade at this point. It's an extension of his beef with Lasat in general, which started on Onderon when one blew up his first Big Boy Mission. It makes sense he'd fixate on such a traumatic event but it's not JUST that. You don't get to have personal hobbies or a sense of fashion or really any kind of identity within the Empire outside who you personally want to fuck up. Kallus chose the Lasat and got fucking spiteful about it, which led him to the Siege of Lasan, where he won his bo-rifle.

but like, it's more than that. It isn't just hatred--if it were, I don't think Zeb would have gotten to him. I think that Kallus has had a buried respect for the Lasat for a long time, if only because of how much time and effort it took to win and then become proficient with the bo-rifle. Then there's the layer of it being the only true outlet for identity he's allowed. THEN there's the fact the bo-rifles are a Force weapon. They've got kyber crystals inside them. And I personally subscribe to the idea that everyone can sense the Force, thus be guided by the Force, it's just that not everyone can recognize what is intuition/one's own emotions and what is the Force, nevermind having an ability to influence other shit with the Force.

What I'm trying to say is I wanna believe Kallus bonded with his bo-rifle in a cosmic way. He is the Warrior, hunting the future; the Force always had plans for his ass and saw that a Force-conductive weapon made its way into his hands, that he then spent years becoming deadly with. That fucking weapon is connected to his soul.

and he lost it to Thrawn.

Thrawn didn't beat him in a fight while Kallus was armed with his bo-rifle, but he super beat his ass in a fight. Even if Kallus could argue he didn't earn the bo-rifle, Kallus couldn't retrieve it before having to gtfo. It's still somewhere on Thrawn's stupid ship--my assumption is that Thrawn goes and adds it to his collection of stolen artwork.

Regardless, Kallus doesn't have it anymore. This thing he poured what little identity he was allowed to maintain, years of hard work and practice and countless battles where he relied on it to keep him alive as his primary weapon, nevermind a Force connection, anyone would become attached to a weapon after years of service. This reminder of Lasan, this piece of history, its fucking gone now.

I don't think he'd think he's allowed to mourn that, considering all he's done, but you can't logic away your feelings, and now he's with a group of ppl who actively find that kind of coping pretty fucking unhealthy. At some point he's gonna have to process what that weapon meant to him and its not gonna be pretty.

imo, he gets a tat of it on the forearm of his dominant hand. He'd think about it for a long time but only go through with it after finally discussing all his mixed up feelings with Zeb, who would super approve of him paying his respects to a sacred fuckin weapon this way. It was his, by right, by soul, by will of the Ashla.