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aethelwyneleigh27 · 9 months

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Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part one)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

Please comment if you want to be added to the taglist, the next part or cod content alone.

Taglist: @marshmallowinamess

A/n: Hi lovelies! Lia here, I'm back after a nerve-wracking week of school. This is a bit short but I hope you enjoy it otherwise. God I fucking hate school. I wrote all of this in a cold room, a heat pad on me (because period cramps) and at 3am so any mistakes will be edited out as soon as I'm aware of it.

This is divided into a multiple part thing (I think 2-3?) because God knows I can't fit them all in one post because of the limited amount of gifs and photos. I'll add more to these in the future, some are longer than others because I can't think. Also because I can't write them all at once, that's a lot to write okay 😭

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

John Price

ꕥ (OH MY GOD LOOK AT HIS SMILEEE) (He's such a quokka)

ꕥ Price who literally is such a father figure, doesn't matter whether the relationship between you two is romantic or platonic. He often takes the dominant caring role.

ꕥ Doesn't smoke around you, doesn't matter if you insist he doesn't. He still won't and definitely will criticize you if you try or do smoke because he doesn't want you do end up like him.

ꕥ If there's a bit of an age gap between you, I'd say he's hesitant. Definitely afraid of what the rest of the task force thinks (He can't help it, they're basically his boys)

ꕥ John Price who wants to settle down with you, maybe have kids if you want but just a white picket fence life with you without the chaos that is war and his job.

ꕥ He only ever let's you have his hat, only when he gives it to you though. Most of the time it would be while you're out, he'd put it on your head from his. (Cowboy hat rule? I heard that in more respectful terms rather than sexual, it respectfully means that you are theirs)

ꕥ John Price who rests his chin at the top of your head no matter how much he needs to crouch down whenever hugging you from behind. Love doing it whenever you're busy doing something too. (Props for the effort because you cannot tell me he doesn't have back, neck and knee pains)

ꕥ Is constantly worried if you share the same line of work, like at first it was nothing but a tiny crush and slowly he finds himself caring about your well-being more and more over time.

ꕥ Can't help but think he's an acts of service type of guy, reaching up for things you need or better yet lifting you up so you can reach them and loves opening things for you like bottles or anything canned. (Girlies who get their nails done or wear press ons know this struggle ( I'm a press on girly)

ꕥ The kind of man who would turn on some oldies music and slow dance with you in the living room, your footsteps and breathing being the only other sounds as you smile at each other, foreheads against the other's.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

ꕥ Ghost who is such Doberman/Black cat boyfriend. Like have you seen this man? He's so tall and intimidating, one distasteful look from him and if it was physically possible that person would drop dead.

ꕥ Ghost whose a chubby chaser through and through, he just looks for something different from what he's used to.

ꕥ Is definitely a tits kinda guy, doesn't matter how big or how small they are. He'll definitely play with them in some way during doing the you know what.

ꕥ Feels like you can take him and his size better because of your plush body. Has a size kink and likes seeing it bulge a bit when he's inside you.

ꕥ You're just so soft and warm, he wants something away from what he usually feels doing his job. Not really that touchy but he gets quite clingy within closed doors.

ꕥ Likes to squeeze your thighs, his grip on them would not falter. Doesn't matter whether it's in a sexual or domestic way.

ꕥ Thinks you deserve better than what he can offer and needs constant reassurance, never says it out loud but you pick up on what he feels. (please be patient with him)

ꕥ More often than not, he thinks you're quite fragile. Even if you can protect yourself, one of his ways of showing you he loves you is through protecting you. Hence the Doberman boyfriend scenario.

ꕥ Doesn't like PDA but knows when it's necessary, him placing his arm around your shoulder is enough to keep perverts in their places. If that rando is really that bold then they'll most likely end up with a few broken bones depending on how pissed Simon is.

ꕥ If you work alongside him, he'd constantly worry about your well-being but at the same time is conflicted because he's confident that he can protect you.

ꕥ Only you and the TF141 can call him Simon, he still feels uneasy when he gets called that but when it's you saying it, it doesn't sound as daunting to him. Still dislikes in in certain tones of voice because his name reminds him of his past.

ꕥ You've seen his face, it took a long time but after that he trusted you enough to show him. The fact that you didn't find his face revolting and even kissed his scars while cupping his face was enough for him to want to marry you.

ꕥ Isn't fully insecure about his face but has his moments. (You know like the voice line where soap asks him to take off his mask and asked him if he was ugly and Ghost said "Negative")

ꕥ Takes a little while to get him to open up and little things like letting you hold him takes him a bit of time to get used to because it makes him feel vulnerable.

ꕥ God forbid something were to happen to you and he couldn't do anything to stop it, Simon would lose his fucking mind.

John "Soap" MacTavish

ꕥ Soap is a Golden Retriever boyfriend through and through. He's energetic, loyal and really affectionate.

ꕥ He's a lighthearted flirt at first because he doesn't wanna scare you off but damn does he gradually get bolder over time.

ꕥ Very hands on, touchy, and could be clingy at times unless you don't consent him, secretly always finding new ways to touch you.

ꕥ A sucker for cheek kisses, lips are his favorite but he can't help but break out a wide grin whenever you kiss his cheek. Can't help but feel kinda manly whenever you do.

ꕥ Adores making you laugh, no matter how stupid your sense of humor is he will absolutely say that joke if it gets a laugh out of you. Would be concerned if you had a dark sense of humor but will eventually get used to it. To describe it, hearing you laugh makes his heart feel full like in a content domestic way.

ꕥ Also, see the gif? You cannot tell me that he doesn't look at you that way because he absolutely would.

ꕥ Loves your weight against his body to the pint he's begging you to lay on him. You, him in the bed while he's shirtless with grey sweatpants on and you in your night clothes sharing each other's warmth with your head on his broad chest.

ꕥ Shows you silly and cute pet videos, especially the cat ones:

"[Name], look at this one!"

"Soap, we're not adopting a pet. Not right now at least"

ꕥ He was upset and gave you puppy eyes the whole time because the only time he had pet was when he was child, it was a hamster which was killed because it got sucked into the vacuum by his older sister.

ꕥ You're the only one allowed to tough his hair, he's very proud of his mohawk and will let you style it. Won't wear it out if you did something silly to it though.

ꕥ Soap who loves showing you off to everyone, loves light PDA but doesn't wanna potential put a target on your back.

ꕥ He definitely is the guy you want to take home to your family and friends (or found family <3), he's funny and easy to get along with. Very flirty with you but he'll straighten out because he's terrified on making a bad impression.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

ꕥ (HE'S SO FREAKING UNDERRATED WITHIN THIS FANDOM)

ꕥ He gives Labrador boyfriend vibes, you can't help but want to take care of him.

ꕥ Gaz who literally had to do a double take when he first saw you, he turned to Soap with that "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" look in a good way.

ꕥ Gaz who literally had to ask you out multiple times before you said yes thinking he's only doing it for a bet or a cruel joke.

ꕥ Constant reassurance from him because he doesn't want you to feel insecure about your looks because to him you are literally an angel.

ꕥ Loves to chill with you, cuddling and just relaxing. Maybe scrolling on TikTok occasionally and show you the funny ones he chuckled at.

ꕥ He has a sixth sense whenever you crave something, say you want chocolate or drink of some sort then he'd definitely being home whatever it is you we're craving without having to ask you.

ꕥ Kyle who has your Starbucks order memorized because he likes being the one to order things for you. Will playfully argue with you on who'll pay this time. (Don't even try anymore, he always wins anyway)

ꕥ Puts his hat on your head mostly when you're out, has done it the first time because it was hot out and the sun was in your eyes. He's picked it up from Price and once you smiled at him through the shade of his cap, he has not stopped doing it.

ꕥ Definitely a words of affirmation and acts of service kind of guy when it comes to love languages. Sometimes whenever he'd give you two thumbs up and a cheeky smile, you can't help but laugh a little.

ꕥ He's very thoughtful, so much so that he prides himself in knowing you better than anyone. Everytime you two go out to eat, when he gets something and know that you'll want to taste it (he knows damn well whether you'll like it or not when he tastes it) he'll bring it upon himself to order you one before you even say you want some.

ꕥ Soft snores when he sleeps, it's cute but you know damn well he's tired. Also I think he's very cuddly, like he just likes reminding himself that he's not alone and that his bed is warm because you're in it. Therefore at minimum always has an arm around you in bed.

ꕥ Dances in the rain with you and loves it when you pull him gently on his arm while your hands are intertwined. Takes note of how the the raindrops sometimes fall on your lashes while you look up at him smiling.

ꕥ Kyle Garrick who wants nothing more in the world to see you happy and smiling. His "this is the woman I'm going to marry" moment was when you baked his favorite cake for his birthday despite it being so hard, you nailed it perfectly. (Whether it's out of luck or skill is up to you)

Alejandro Vargas

ꕥ (idk how to write for this angry Mexican man but I'll try my best, love him and his megamind hairline though <3)

ꕥ Alejandro is definitely a flirt, a very bold on at that. He's quite forward when it comes to liking someone so yeah.

ꕥ He lives for it when you boss him around. That being said, he isn't picky about body type or any of the sort.

ꕥ Will teach you Spanish if you don't know any, definitely prioritizes the curse words and laughs whenever you jokingly call him pendejo.

ꕥ Wouldn't mind you teaching him your own culture and mother tongue. Bonus points if it's similar to his.

ꕥ Has Spanish nicknames for you because I imagine his own culture is important to him.

ꕥ Would hate it if you had the same line of work but will never take it out on you, it's just that it's so dangerous given the people he's involved with. (It's definitely Valeria)

ꕥ Speaking of El Sinombre, I don't think they had anything romantic going on. It's mainly platonic and the "betrayal" sucked on Alejandro's side. They definitely had some rivalry and the tension was through the roof. (Mainly because I headcanon Valeria as Lesbian)

ꕥ Can be so romantic when he tries, you can't tell me this mf ain't a smooth talker because he definitely is. Can be very blunt like in a forward way with his affection too.

ꕥ Likes kissing your wrist and feeling your pulse against his lips because it reminds him you're alive. (The amount of angst this scenario carries would be something I'm up for to write)

ꕥ Is sent on a fit of rage when something happens to you, say you got kidnapped then this man would tears off the walls of every building if he had to.

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

ꕥ (ANOTHER UNDERATED CHARACTER)

ꕥ Another Golden Retriever boyfriend. This man is just loving and dotting, very husband material.

ꕥ Loves chubby women, has a soft spot for them and just likes holding them.

ꕥ He's definitely used to the insecurity that comes with the body, also doesn't get why such beauty standards are even in place. Has and would fuck the insecure out of you again if he had to. (It's in a very gentle and loving manner)

ꕥ If you hold him in your arms, he'd be absolutely living for it. He already has had a long day and being honest he hasn't had many lovers that went far so having you care in this way about him would have him wrapped around your finger.

ꕥ Worships the ground you walk on. That's it.

ꕥ Would take everything to heart whenever you teach him or mention something within your culture if you aren't of Spanish origins like he is. He just loves you so much that it makes him happy knowing more about you.

ꕥ Would adore slow dancing with you, brings him back to reality where he realizes that he has you and that you're there.

ꕥ Terrified that one day you'll end up leaving him so reassurance would be much appreciated by him.

ꕥ Definitely a sucker for receiving forehead kisses, as for giving he likes to kiss the back of your hand.

ꕥ If ever danger presents itself to you too closely, he would have a heart attack like full on crying but not in public though.

#cod x reader #task force 141 x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #los vaqueros x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rudy parra x reader #cod headcanons #cod x female reader #Aethelwyne Lia writes

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 months

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Yo! Good morning/evening, hope you are fine^^💝. I wanted to ask you a question but I was afraid that it may bother you or something (you know..that feeling when you are scared that you might disturb someone or being an unwelcome person) but yeah I will ask you since i was serious about your answer for some time now so I hope I'm not annoying you or something *feel free to answer only if you wish^^. You seem to know the characters pretty well, you are quite capable and great at reading and understanding them, one of the things I'm serious about is what do you think would make someone qualified enough to be with malleus? Do they have to be of the same species?certain Reputation, stature or traits?(sorry can't help it since I can't rest until I know everything about what interests me and figure it all out😅). Thanks for giving me some of your precious time I really like your blog, you're amazing💜

No worries, you’re not bothering me at all ^^ I love to talk about my hyperfixations www

Now, I know a lot of fans (particularly on the EN side) like to ship Malleus with their OC and especially with Yuu so I want to first make it clear that my response is NOT meant to invalidate those Malleus shippers. Whatever I say here is based on my own interpretation of canon lore (and let’s be real here, TWST won’t ever confirm if anyone is romantically interested in Yuu because it might not work with how some players view their own relationship with that character). In fanon, anyone can be with anyone, but in canon there are very specific in-universe rules and expectations laid out for Malleus so these are what I will be referring to.

I also want to emphasize that the final traits I discuss in this post do NOT reflect Malleus’s personal tastes or views. He has little say in what kind of an individual his spouse would be, so his own preferences are not speculated about or taken into account here. The traits I will be bringing up are based on what I believe the lore implies are the desirable traits for those marrying into the Draconia royal family.

We got it? Good 👍 Read more below the cut!!

Firstly, I’m completely disregarding the ideas of “Malleus can love whoever he wants to love”, “Malleus can scare people into accepting who he loves”, and/or “Malleus can change the law so he can marry who he loves” (a la Sultan from Aladdin or through some other Disney magic or logic). Here’s why:

In general, those solutions for “high stakes issues” are too simple, and that has never been how Twisted Wonderland tackles complicated problems. Just look at every single OB boy’s backstory. They’re so complex that they aren’t totally resolved by the end of their books; these problems persist and are long term things each of them are working on addressing. This is also true of the politics TWST introduces to us; Leona for example explains how there is social pushback and resistance to the idea of infrastructure reform because the culture of the Sunset Savanna stresses harmony with nature. This has made it difficult for them to adopt new technologies because real politicians in their world have to seriously weigh their cultural values with their health and societal progress. The only time there are really easy solutions are in events or vignettes where the emotional stakes are not super high, but who Malleus marries is, in fact, super important since this will entirely change the life of a main character and his country.

With that first bullet point in mind… No, Malleus cannot love whoever he wants to love. Certainly, he may feel affection for another but he can never truly be with them. He is royalty and the only heir to the throne of Briar Valley. It follows that he is expected to marry for political reasons/to better his nation. This is a non-negotiable obligation for him.

Rather than saying, “Malleus cannot scare people into accepting who he loves”, I think it’s more accurate to say Malleus knows he probably shouldn’t. I mean, yes, he may be upset about his S/O not being accepted by his people but I feel that is discrediting a lot of the loyalty he has for his own country. As a kid he may have thrown tantrums when he was upset and potentially harmed staff, but as a 178 year old he has a much better understanding of decorum and maintaining it in spite of his own grudges. For example, even though he personally dislikes Leona he still commands Sebek to apologize to him because, at the end of the day, this could harm Briar Valley’s relationship with the Sunset Savanna. That’s not to say that Malleus can’t be petty (he definitely is)—but implying he would be petty toward basically his entire country just because they would disapprove of the one he loves?? (We know this would likely be true because Sebek’s parents faced similar backlash when they got together.) I feel like his own sense of awareness and responsibility for his country, crown, and people would override that. As an example, Malleus states that he has never been in a car before because the senate would be against it and often kept Malleus in the castle. Someone of his power could easily ignore them and sneak out and do whatever he wanted, yet the dialogue implies Malleus didn’t. He obeyed his political advisors even when he was younger and arguably much more immature. Malleus might not like certain decisions made about his life but it sounds like he ultimately complies with them.

Continuing from the previous point, let’s say for the sake of argument that Malleus does scare everyone into line. What about his public image and the mental health of his S/O? Maybe Malleus can frighten people to not talk out of turn to his face, but he cannot control what people whisper about him behind closed doors or to treat his S/O well or like they actually like them. Not only would they be alienated (away from their own home and forced to adapt to a new one) but they’d be treated oddly by others too. What kind of reputation is that for Malleus? To be a tyrant king who throws a hissy fit anytime someone talks about his partner in a way he doesn’t approve of? With a spouse who is not at their best mentally because of the constant ostracization? (This is similar to what Leona experienced in his childhood.) I don’t think Malleus would want to subject anyone to that kind of life, especially not one he loves. And again, this attitude would be the vast majority of his people. It’s not like it can be avoided or resolved in an easy manner, especially when the people of Briar Valley have proven to be against change.

Lastly, Malleus would not change the law so he can be with whoever he wants to. To begin with, I doubt this is a unilateral position the senate would approve of. But okay, let’s accept that Malleus is royalty so his power overrides the advisors’ power. So he effectively just changed a law for a very selfish and personal reason rather than changing something to actually benefit his people. That doesn’t feel in-character for him, not when Malleus seems to understand that it is the duty of those in higher status to help those below them rather than themselves (see: Riddle’s Suitor Suit vignettes. Malleus has acted selfish before, yes (who remembers Endless Halloween Night? His Dorm Uniform vignettes? I do.)—but never at the cost of changing the status quo of his country. (Book 7 is not included here because he’s in a very distressed emotional state then; this “new law” scenario posits that Malleus is in a normal state of mind.) This is a major change—change which Briar Valley, its people, and most importantly, Malleus, are not ready for. You think there wouldn’t be social pushback against this? From a society that has become complacent with its own way of life and is still isolated from the rest of the world? That Malleus, someone who struggles greatly with accepting life changes himself, could enact such a big change so easily? (On a more technical level, you don’t just pass a law and it instantly becomes tangible or real, there is a process of approval and then implementation.)

Additionally, it’s made clear in Ghost Marriage that “[Malleus] cannot enter into an engagement lightly”, which is why Sebek goes in his place. Eliza, the Ghost Bride, is royalty (er, albeit dead) but it seems that royal status is not enough to qualify as his partner. Maybe this is because she’s dead and doesn’t have anything of value for Briar Valley (no land, no people, no political power), but it could also mean that the partner has to be given the thumbs up by other parties.

All that being said, here are some of the conditions I think would have to be met for Malleus’s future spouse:

Has to be someone of equal or at least high status. This means they also have to be a royal or at least of nobility. This appears to be true of Malleus’s dad, who is referred to as a duke.

Because of how self-contained Briar Valley is + nocturnal fae having beef with diurnal fae, I imagine his partner would have to also be a nocturnal fae. This would also solve the MASSIVE lifespan difference between fae and non-fae because at least fae would be far closer to each other even if their lifespans fluctuate but subspecies.

Someone suited to rule by his side. Being married into any royal family is no joke—it comes with the expectation that you will contribute somehow, and the partner should be fully equipped to enter the world of politics with him.

Piggybacking off the last point, I think mental fortitude is also a prerequisite. This is because being a politician (navigating the social climate both within your country and outside of it, keeping your people and colleagues happy, maintaining public approval, managing laws, dealing with potential attempts on your life, etc.) can be very stressful and can hurt those who are faint of heart or not prepared for the responsibility. Leaders have to make tough calls at the drop of a hat, and they have to be ready for it.

Has a lot to offer in terms of benefits to Briar Valley as a country. This could be in terms of resources, connections, and/or political savvy. This appears to be true of Malleus’s dad, who acted as a diplomat for Briar Valley.

Vetting and formal approval from the senate. lmao good luck with that

Has to be able and willing to have a child. They at least need an heir to the throne to succeed Malleus. (However, knowing how exclusionary and conservative as heck the senators are, I doubt they would accept anything but a biological child 💀)

Preferably someone with powerful magic or is skilled at magic already so as to lessen the chance of “tainting” the bloodline with a weak mage or a non-mage.

I believe that Briar Valley would prefer someone with old fashioned values like them, not someone pushing for massive reform. They have a culture that is resistant to change and a history of fighting for resources with outsiders, so if Malleus’s new spouse tries to introduce a bunch of technology or open its borders to other countries (even if they have good intentions), the people + the senate may oppose them. His father is implied to be open-minded, but he at least understood that such change isn’t reasonable without time and effort dedicated to the endeavor.

All that being said 💦 I think that this topic is actually less about what Malleus as an individual wants and what his country, his people, and, yes, even his asshole senators, want. This is basically an arranged marriage situation so that their country can maintain power and relevance. It’s about the collective and what Malleus must do for their perceived security and prosperity.

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sourslip · 11 months

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I'm still reeling from that reveal/scene (like most of us, apparently) so bear with the chewing-on-glass scatterbrain but I think the surprise has actually made me appreciate Laura's RP choices even more

going into that scene set up my expectations for some comforting, maybe some discussion of what Laudna was going through post-party split, but overall I was expecting - at most - some cute and friendly intimacy reaffirming they are Very Good Friends

AND THEN ITS LAURA BAILEY WITH THE CHAIR!!!

"Can I kiss you?" felt like it came on so fast without any specific queues (like what we've seen in previous romances where one or both PCs will name their desires in conversation with someone else before acting on it) but it also made perfect sense in retrospect

ever since Laudna came back, Imogen has been sitting on something, always seeming to hold back some burning comments here and there. she was also insistent that Laudna would get to choose everything going forward, and part of that I think meant Laudna having the freedom to think on a response to any question of further intimacy without even a chance of Imogen overhearing. Laudna could have the freedom to wonder if she did want to get in touch with "that part of her mind", to think about how painful, scary, or awkward that might be after decades of being shut off to it.

Laudna has some pretty intense self-image and self-worth issues to work through, but she's also had 2 years of Imogen in her head able to pick up on her wants without having to ever voice them and, ultimately, without having to accept that she does have her own wants independent of the people around her. Laudna seems to have only just started to get in touch with her anger, and that kind of repressed emotion that comes out in the healing process is one of the less intentional ones! Girl hasn't felt safe enough to actually think about her wants, let alone try communicating them!

Imogen and Laudna reconnected after their time apart and discovered that they - as Marisha pointed out in 4SD - have grown into different people, and that resulted in the tension of the first moments in the scene where they kind of made quasi-small talk. They were figuring out how to connect with each other again but, rather than return to their old dynamics (that kept them stagnant), Imogen set them up to try exploring something new and maybe a little healthier with communication going forward.

I think Imogen has been working towards this for a while, and while the circlet was the last "thing" she needed to help force them to communicate better, having the time apart gave them an opportunity to try something new.

Imogen has held a lot back before because she's too tuned into other peoples thoughts, and Laudna held off exploring her own wants and desires for too many reasons - but she is starting to get more in touch with her self-interested emotions. So they've both been tip-toeing towards a change for a while, but change like that can sometimes be like getting into cold water; at a certain point you just have to commit and jump in the rest of the way.

So to me, not only was Imogen trying to give Laudna the freedom to make her decision without an audience (the talk about the circlet), but she also made the most of the new distance between them to push them both towards a change, one that challenged both of them to be more honest with themselves, each other, and about what they want from their relationship.

Laura Ultimate-Romancer Bailey everyone

#critical role #critical role spoilers #imodna #imogen temult #laudna

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thetravelingmaster · 6 months

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Reasons Why you Should Check Out ROM

(readonlymind.com)

I've done a similar posts before for this site when I first joined up ROM as an author, but I feel like it deserves a little boost and some visibility out here as one of the many sites where one can enjoy erotic mind control literature. And also, because I'm a little selfish! I figure that if more people know about it, there's going to be more erotic stories to read.

Back when I joined, thanks to @arihi 's post on the matter during the 2018 tumblrapocalypse, I believe that there were barely 150 authors that published on the site, but as of today, that number has risen to 446. The list keeps growing and so does the variety of stories available.

Much like mcstories.com, the site is very easy to navigate and search through, even if you aren't 'logged in' as an author or reader. It offers us simple ways to search out and find the stories or authors we most want to read about. They've done an awesome job with the tag system so that regardless of which story you are reading, you can click on a tag to see what other stories that have the same theme.

It's a lot like a porn site actually, but for mind control themes.

And speaking of the tags...

The search function is rather advanced. Not only can you click a specific tag to see which stories have them, but you can also use the 'advanced search' to combine them and refine your search. You can add as many as you want to really find out if a specific theme is available. In fact you can also exclude tags to make sure you only get the stories you truly want.

Of course, when you do find a story you like, the author name will be a link to their page, which will list their stories as well as an introduction about themselves if they chose to add one. Since the site is all about open discussion, they accept self promotion so you can expect to find contact information on authors you like or even a link to other sites they post on.

Another very useful thing you'll find on their page, which I haven't seen on any other MC site before, is the 'story suggestion' link. There, you'll find all the stories the author recommends.

I've found that it's a great way to discover other authors because if you enjoy someone's writing, there's also a good chance you'll enjoy reading the stories they've enjoyed and recommended. Plus, if the author is so inclined, they can do more than just list off a bunch of stories, but also add a comment as to why they enjoyed it. I personally try to always add a little something to entice those that end up on my list.

Another feature I truly enjoy as an author is the fact that you can always go back an edit your stories because you always have full control of what is posted. Honestly, if I had discovered this before I opened up my own website, there would have been no need for me to do it. Although, I might have been a little disappointed about the fact I couldn't add the lovely images that inspire me so much... hehehe

But regardless, as an author that has many stories with many chapters, I've quickly discovered how easy it is to organize my stories because I can add a new chapter to an existing story, which is great because the reader doesn't have to look for previous chapters. Plus, you can add titles and even small descriptions to each, which will show up in the story index. In addition, you always get a word count for each chapter (or full story in the story list) so you know how long it should take you to get through it.

Speaking of readers, the site offers a little more than just a well organized and searchable site.

Well... If you register that is!

You don't have to post anything though, so registering is simply like creating an account. What you get for registering are a few fun bonuses like the ability to 'snap' a story you liked. Which is basically the equivalent of a 'like' here on tumblr. As an author, it's always a great inspiration to add chapters when I notice that one of my stories becomes popular and I know readers want more. It's also a great indicator for readers, as you well know!

Another bonus you get by registering is being able to comment on each chapter. I love the comments section because it not only gives me the ability to get feedback, but it also allows registered people to tag each other and reply to comments. As an added bonus, once you register, you get access to a notification page and if someone's replied or tagged you, you'll be notified there.

Speaking of notifications...

As an author, I get a bunch of notifications every time a user 'snaps' one of my stories, leaves a comment or recommends it to others. But as a reader, I can also 'follow' specific authors and be notified when ever they publish a new story or add a chapter to an existing one. But hey, that could be bothersome too so you ALSO have the option of just following ONE specific story so you are sure to know when the latest chapter drops. I'll admit, I use this option a lot!

Another option you may notice in the above image is the 'Read Later' option. I've used that as both a place to list off stories I like to read multiple times, as well as the obvious happenstance where I find a good one I want to read, but don't have the time.

As you ALSO may have notice, there are well known authors publishing their stories there too. @scifiscribbler, @jukeboxemcsa, @darthkyra, @ellaenchanting, @hypnoticharlequin and @skaetlett, to name a few you might know from tumblr.

If you can't get enough of reading MC stories, then this site will definitely help to feed your cravings. It's still relatively new and small when compared to others, but so far, it's proven its potential for growth.

The more the merrier

#news #ROM

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gold-pavilion · 4 months

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Toman and Buddhism + Tenjiku and Taoism

Another post to cover references in Tokyo Revengers!

This time, I'll be covering the links to two religions to be found in two gangs in the series, reference by reference, with the according explanation of each.

Some of these may be already known, I know one of them sure is (the whole buddhist manji confusion thing yeah yeah) but still, for the sake of a tidy compilation and of providing more detail, I'll go through them too. Some others are a lot less noticed, like Tenjiku's lean towards Tao, so it'll be best to lay down eeeeeeverything I've caught during my time enjoying this series. Plus, I'm pretty excited to get some of those less-known facts out here!!

Warning though, it's lengthy.

Let's start with Tokyo Manji Gang:

- Firstly, the gang's name and how it's written.

Despite Mikey suggesting the name as a short form of Tokyo Manjiro Gang, putting himself front and center, the kanji that ended up forming the name of Tokyo Manji Gang show that it went in a different direction of meaning. The manji used for the middle part ended up not being the same one from the name Manjiro, but a manji written as 卍. Aloud it's read the same way (many, many, many kanji are homophones), but has a different meaning.

卍 (manji) is an extremely common buddhist symbol (not even limited to japanese buddhism, but in hinduism and other aligned east-asian religions too), which represents the path of Buddha and the endless cycle of rebirth through samsara; the pursuit of leading a more spiritually balanced existence until the soul can reach enlightenment. In other words, it's nothing but deeply buddhist.

(To answer a common question around it: can it be called a swastika? Yes. The symbol in general, with each of the million variations that have popped up in different cultures, can be called a swastika as a broad term. There are a fuckton of swastikas. They mean a fuckton of different things. The tilt and the direction in which this one "spins" makes it different from other swastikas though, and it's always best to be precise and call this one manji.)

Moving on,

- Reunion spot.

The Musashi Shrine (based, but not exactly taken from any of the real-life shrines and temples of similar name in Tokyo, as far as I know) is a shinto-buddhist temple. And, apparently, a place where the founders hung out from time to time, but I'll add to that later!!

It's cute to me that the Toman members seem to use the temple very respectfully. They always meet in it at night waaay after it's closed (daytime meetings have always taken place in different locations, never the temple during visiting hours), they've never once set foot even near the oratory/sanctum/other buildings, never been seen bringing the motorcycles anywhere they shouldn't, and the one time a character was seen using the public temizuya (the little stone fountain where visitors purify their hands and mouth), he was proper about it in terms of pouring water into his hand to rinse his mouth with, not getting the ladle or the rest of the water dirty, as one should always do.

A fun fact: in Google Maps, buddhist temples are marked with the manji symbol!

- Gang's manifesto.

Embroidered on the chest of the gang uniform, you can see the text 天上天下唯我独尊 ("Above the earth and below the heavens, I alone shall be honored"), which is the gang's manifesto or motto. Sounds just like something Mikey would choose, yeah.

That phrase is also of buddhist origin; famously, the words spoken by Buddha Gautama Siddharta (bear in mind that buddhism isn't a religion with one god or anything like that, anyone enlightened can become a Buddha and many figures have been granted that status, but Gautama is the first and main one, the creator of the doctrine) when he was born. To be honest, this is very much interpretative, but I've come to get the impression that it's not so much a power or ego statement, but rather an expression of cultivating and honoring yourself…? It's absolutely up to personal reading and I'm absolutely not an expert. But those are certainly THE Buddha's words.

- Ceremonial sash.

Another part of their uniform that bears a slight reference: the sash worn by the commander, vice-commander, captains and vice-captains during important fights.

These are tasuki, sashes originally worn by shinto-buddhist priests during ceremonies, in order to keep long sleeves and such in place. However, eventually, they also began being worn by samurai and all sorts of warriors, 'cause of their convenience. In modern times, they even started being used by just about anybody who wears traditional clothing but also does manual work and needs the sleeves out of the way. So it can be concluded that, over time, they stopped being strongly linked to religious practicers. In fact, even biker gangs in general ended up adopting the use of tasuki! Not for their religious origins, but for the warrior part; a bōsōzoku gang member wearing one would look very prepared and determined for a fight.

That's why overall, Tokyo Manji Gang having them is only a relative reference; they could be paying homage to their reference religion, as they could be only honoring gang traditions.

- Additional notes about the leader.

I feel it's important to add up all these little factors of Mikey's choosing, with other little details about him as a person that kinda make it all make sense.

If I say "Mikey seems to be religious, to an extent", I understand this can carry a bunch of tricky connotations. Japanese religion isn't exercised the same way it is in other places, someone being religious SURE AS HECK doesn't mean the same things it means in the christian west. Shinto-buddhism is so commonplace in Japan, most people partake in all kinds of religious practices without even thinking of them as strictly religious, such as new year's celebrations, casual prayer during shrine visits, purchasing and giving charms and such. Religion is integrated in life in a lot of extremely chill ways.

And we can observe a lot of things about Mikey that put him quite above the average in terms of his relationship with local tradition and religion. His house is a huge traditional-style family home, his family is hinted to be active in religious practice (remember Emma's appearances during the Christmas Showdown arc? How she mentioned that their family does a lot of temple visits, and even she considered it weird at that time of the year?), he's much more prone to wearing traditional clothing than his peers, his motif in extra clothing designs is the lion-dog (temple guardians; statues of these can often be found in them), his personal beliefs around death and relationship to the dead run deeper than others' to the point they find him disturbing when he talks about Shinichiro or Baji still being with him... many little things that aren't that deep on their own, of course, but when added up they paint a pretty coherent picture of the guy.

And so, it does make a lot of sense that, even from childhood, a temple was a regular place for Mikey to hang out with his friends, leading to the birth of Toman in one. And it makes a lot of sense that he made all those little choices about the way the gang would be styled. In my opinion, it's likely that those things just all came natural to him because they're a part of his background and worldview. Of course, how actively religious he is, how much he believes in the things he happens to know and how much exactly he might know about buddhism are all up to headcanoning and interpretation. Personally, I'm just a roleplayer that takes it as a relevant part of his character.

- Following a Buddha?

A little out-of-TR-universe element that I love to bring up, 'cause it's just hilarious and cool as hell, is the creation of this statue:

This part of the 2022 Tokyo Revengers exhibition straight up imitates the famous Reclining Buddha in the Wat Pho temple, Thailand.

The ENORMOUS statue depicts the moment Buddha reaches nirvana, and his enlightened soul is at rest. The golden Mikey statue that imitates it very much intentionally likens him to a Buddha; funny to note that the exhibition staff even prayed to the statue, as you can read in the tweet itself.

What does this mean about Mikey's character? Well, this isn't within text in Tokyo Revengers, just a little outside factor, so I wouldn't take it too literally or too seriously, but it's interesting nonetheless. Personally, I see it as a hint that Mikey was supposed to be on his own little quest to enlightenment, or had the potential to be. Grappling with morality without having a natural sense of what's right, wrong, too much or enough is a major thing with his character. I can also imagine it might just be meant to represent the godlike view others have of him, the guidance they sought from him. Take it as you will!

The important thing is just that it exists, to confirm that there is an intentional connection of some type between the Buddha and Mikey.

Thaaaaat concludes the Toman and Buddhism section of this post.

Whew!! That was a whole lot.

The Tenjiku and Taoism section coming now is shorter, but I'm sure it contains interesting and less-known things (at least, I've never seen anybody talk about these)!

So let's see, Tao references in Tenjiku:

- Gang name.

Tenjiku is a now-obsolete word that translated directly to "heaven", while simultaneously being the japanese word for the country India (as taken from the chinese pronunciation, Tianzhu).

In modern times, it can be found mostly in ancient literature, the most prominent example being Journey to the West. Given that Kakucho and Izana mentioned this book and seemed to have knowledge of it as kids, we can conclude that's where they got the name of their gang from.

Why would they use the word for India to name their kingdom? What does this have to do with Tao? I'll get into that properly now:

- Kakucho, Izana & Journey to the West.

Journey to the West is one of the four great chinese classic novels (along with Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Outlaws of the Marsh, and Dream of the Red Chamber) which are enormous, ENORMOUS influences on east-asian literature and fiction in general. Journey to the West, itself, is considered the most popular east-asian literary work overall; of course, being super well-known in Japan, too. (To give my favorite funny example of just how omnipresent it is, y'know Dragon Ball? Hit anime series Dragon Ball? Unabashedly based on Journey to the West, which was to thank for most of its initial local popularity.)

It's the story of the buddhist monk Tang Sanzang, who travels to Tenjiku, to India, to that certain heavenly kingdom, to obtain sacred texts for Buddha Gautama Siddharta (the guy I described as THE Buddha in the Tokyo Manji Gang section above). The quest doubles as a search and exercise of enlightenment, as Tang Sanzang is aided by three protectors that are atoning for their sins and learning from him. The main guardian and arguably the true protagonist of the book is Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, a fighter "so strong he could carry a mountain on each shoulder, and still dash as fast as a meteor". It's a huge, epic, 100-chapter monster of a book, in which each chapter is already a fantastic and entertaining anecdote about the characters or what happens in their travels, but also a long spiritual journey that pretty much serves to subtly teach the principles of Tao (term that can be translated to "the path", chinese religion and philosophy).

A tangent: let me just show you how large it is (and why I haven't been able to finish it, 'cause I cannot take this brick of a book anywhere lmaoooo).

(Cover says Journey to the West: The Adventures of the Monkey King. It's in spanish.)

My guess is that Izana and Kakucho studied about it or read some chapters in school, 'cause dang, there's no way they read all of this at that age?!?! BUT ANYWAY.

While there's obviously quite some buddhist influence in the story, most of what it works with throughout is rooted in chinese folklore and Taoism. The edition of the book I have even begins with extensive notes and introductory explanations about Tao, as its themes of harmony with the universe, self-cultivation, internal alchemy, its main ethics and values, etc etc etc are the basis from which the book is built up. The characters very actively engage with Tao. Sun Wukong is an ardent student of Tao who obtains a bunch of powers through it, for one.

I've gone into this much into detail because Kakucho and Izana make it pretty explicit that, to them, Izana is like monk Tang Sanzang leading to Tenjiku, and Kakucho is like his guardian of unmatched strength, Sun Wukong.

In the end of Journey to the West, it's both Tang Sanzang and Sun Wukong that accomplish their goal and also obtain enlightenment, finally ascending to buddhahood. Had Izana and Kakucho's journey with Tenjiku reached their original destination (not "to become a criminal syndicate that controls Japan" but "to build a kingdom where everyone without a home could exist"), had it been like Tang Sanzang and Sun Wukong's pilgrimage… they would've learned true balance and they would've found the necessary enlightenment.

Again, I find this little connection with characters that could've been on a quest towards buddhahood, but as far as things went in the main TR timelines, all failed.

- Uniform & logo.

Finally, something lighter and quicker to add, haha.

There are symbols and references that are so so so widespread that they become more of an aesthetic detail than a symbol with meaning, in the eyes of the general public. The yin-yang is one of those symbols that just… appears in a lot of places, fashionably, and one kinda gets used to seeing it without thinking much about it. Sometimes it's not meant to stand for much more than a decorative detail, yes, that definitely happens, but sometimes it's very much a thoughtful choice. With Tenjiku, given its connection to Taoism, I'm gonna treat the yin-yang as a meaningful choice.

So! On the back of the uniform we have a yin-yang, Taoist symbol that represents the balance of the two complementary and opposing forces of the universe (note: it's not a good vs evil type of thing, as tends to happen with western black-white dualism, but rather… the fact that reality needs to be composed of push and pull to get anywhere, hard and soft things with their own function, sun and shade. A common comparison is how a mountain will have a sunny side and a shady side when looked at in a certain moment, but the sun and shade will switch over at another time of day, in a needed cycle). Other features of the uniform are a mao collar instead of a more common style for gang jackets, and an intense red color, the main auspicious and prosperous color in chinese culture. These last two little features could easily be coincidental, but when paired with the yin-yang, I feel like it's intended to lean towards chinese aesthetics.

And with that,

I end this reference post!

Did you learn anything you didn't know? Did you enjoy learning it? Any thoughts? I LOVE TO TALK ABOUT THESE THINGS, SO FEEL FREE TO DROP BY MY ASKBOX with any comments or questions or such!!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers meta #tokyo manji gang #toman #tenjiku #kurokawa izana #sano manjiro #izana kurokawa #manjiro sano #mikey #kakucho #thoughts and talk and so #tokyo rev #wanted to write this one forever #just never quite got around to it

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bao3bei4 · 6 months

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why zines? how zines?

i was on a panel at fanworks con 2023 about zines today. it was a lot of fun! i decided to turn my portion of the talk into a post for my friends who couldn’t make it to the panel.

this post includes my thoughts on:

why make a zine

how to generate ideas for zines

how to finish your zines

how to build an audience for your zines

so why zines? what are they? [ZEENS, rhymes with beans], pronounced that way because it’s a shortened form of the word magazine, are basically just that: self published magazines. but why make a zine over, say, a blog post? or any other piece of art.

i have basically three reasons. the first is that making little books is cool. it’s genuinely awesome to make physical zines and have the product of your labor in your hand. it’s a great feeling to finish a project and feel a concrete reward, and a lot of times we don’t get that in our lives.

the second reason is that zines give you absolute editorial control. you can put anything you want on a page. whatever layout, whatever order, whatever fold, whatever content. you name it, you can do it. this is something other venues rarely give you. for artists, it’s phenomenal. and for the rest of us, it gives us the ability to become artists for a little bit, as we lay things out.

the third reason is that zines can be absolute shit. in fact, the more shit they are, the more diy and punk they are. they have an incredible lineage of stolen copy paper and anarchist politics. all that to say, is that there are no standards. the zine ethos is say what you wanna say. it’s tremendously freeing to go fuck polish and respectability, i’m making my project.

because of these three reasons, i want to encourage you to get started making zines by describing common challenges and worries and giving you several practical tips for each on working past them. so, in order, they’re “i don’t know what to make a zine about,” “i struggle to finish projects,” and “no one will read my zines.” let’s get into it.

first up, “i don’t know what to make a zine about.” i think this one is pretty common, even for experienced zine creators. sometimes you’re in the mood to make things but you have no clue what. a lot of people suggest to just go with random words or whatever pops into your head, but i’m picky! i find that unsatisfying! so here are some tips for people in the same boat.

ONE: what’s distracting you? work with it. because anything can be a zine, let the things you’ve already done serve as inspiration. photos you’ve taken can be formatted into a zine. is there a game sucking up your attention? make a zine about it. the song stuck in your head can turn into a lyricbook, forgotten works in progress or sketches can be resurrected, cannibalized, or even published as incomplete zines. if you’ve been busy with real life, maybe the recipes you’ve been making—even if, especially if, they’re struggle meals, can turn into zines. interview your most interesting friend. summarize a book you read recently. even if you’ve just been doomscrolling, that’s a zine too! i got a zine last weekend called bay area newsreel which was collecting recent articles about local news from leftist perspectives gathered up into a handy volume. your attention is a gift, so look at what zine fodder it’s accumulated for you naturally.

SECOND: add a twist. sometimes i have an idea but it isn’t quite right. it just seems too straightforward. so i try to develop along a single axis of content or form. what this means is basically go against your instincts, or rather, your first impulse. that first idea is very hard to walk away from, but doing so often gives you an idea that gets you unstuck. so for content, add a different perspective. for me this is often a theoretical approach. when i was stuck on my scum villain zine, turning it into freud zine let the words start flowing. next, on form: present it differently than your first instinct is to. if my first thought is “essay,” i try to figure out how to chunk out the information into modules or how to add interactivity or what kind of illustrations to add. if my first thought is “this could be a fic or comic,” i try turning it into an essay. saying things a different way often gives you a new perspective on the content as well.

THIRD: copy! make your take on the same thing as someone else. it’s not stealing—well, ideally it isn’t. make your original take and give credit where credit is due and ask permission if necessary. but engage with the medium!!! making zines without reading zines is the same thing as trying to write a paper without citing sources, or a novel without reading your contemporaries. that is, you can do it, but it’s hard. zines are a genre into themselves so figure out how to situate yourself in their ongoing dialogue. an example of this from my own practice is that i own a zine about queer gods and mythological creatures from chinese history. reading it i was like. why don’t they talk about this. why don’t they talk about that. and that became the basis for my own zine, guaitai the strange and the queer which focused on queer chinese history and literature instead. different zine, same inspiration.

all of my ideas suppose you have SOMETHING going on. what if you truly have nothing. my advice? adapted from my “how to write an essay” blog post, is to read a book. read an article. read something. and then post about it. and then turn your posts into a zine. don’t start entirely from scratch — give yourself a scaffolding. so first. read something and tell someone about it. i wasn’t lying about calling myself a consummate poster. it’s a big part of my thought process.

second up, what if “i struggle to finish projects.” i’m no stranger to having a bunch of half finished half started projects lying around. but here are some zine-specific tips i have for addressing that.

FIRST! go smaller; go shittier. reduce the scope of your projects. make one pagers, lists. once when i was feeling stymied, i made a physical zine about movies i’d watched that month, just listing them with a couple bullet points on each film. i eventually turned it into a bigger digital zine where i listed movies i’d watched over the past several months with more thoughts on them, and nicely formatted. but that was something that came out of reducing my scope from “i need to write a manifesto on a movie i’ve watched recently” to “well i can just tell people about it” to “i can say two things about it.” and something actually got finished.

SECOND. your friends are a great tool for accountability. something i like to do is zine jams with my friends. nothing fancy, it’s just we’ll sit down for an hour and go we’re going to make something in this hour. or, for a bigger scope, we might work separately but commit to making a zine that weekend. it’s nice to have community and it’s nice to feel a little bit of a friendly deadline. i recommend this even if you DON’T have problems finishing zines. it’s a good time.

THIRD. a lot of times if the words aren’t coming easily, it’s because i’m not trying to say the right thing. keep in mind that your zines don’t have to be “content.” this little paper zine i made about movies wasn’t made to share online; in fact, it’s not available online. i didn’t make it according to what other people would see or be interested in. you can and will burn out on making “marketable” content. corollary to this: sometimes what i have to say is something i DON’T want to share online. it might not be that it’s boring, it might be that it’s too personal. and i share a lot online, i write personal essays after all. but some projects i stall on because they’re really just for me, and i’m again, focused on making content. so this piece of advice is about rejecting the tyranny of the imaginary audience.

and the next challenge is about embracing that audience! what if no one reads your zines, something that’s entirely possible. well there’s plenty you can do about that.

FIRST. cultivate zine community. read other people’s zines! talk to them about their zines! this greatly increases the chance that they will do the same for you. don’t go in expecting reciprocity; do it for its own sake, but it’s a great place to start. try asking people at zine fests if they’d be willing to trade with you, for instance.

SECOND. write for yourself. it’s cheesy but it’s true. you really have to. if you’re not proud and happy with what you’re making on its own merits, what’s the point. now because this is a cop out tip, i’m not counting it as a tip on its own.

so SECOND PART TWO. make your zines more accessible. if they’re not free, make them free—yes, you deserve to be compensated for your work, but it’s up to you to decide if you want a bigger audience first. if your zines aren’t short, make them shorter. make them short enough that you can post their entirety on social media or something else easy for your audience to consume. it’s a big ask sometimes to get someone to download your pdf! if they’re physical, hand them out to people you meet. remove all the barriers to entry.

THIRD. related to this, change medium. if you’re not making physical zines, try printing them out. if you’re not making digital zines, try digitizing them. both of these offer access to new audiences and new people who might be more interested in one form than another.

i hope these thoughts encourage you to make a zine! if you do, please let me see it. i love reading zines.

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milfjuulpod · 6 months

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Guidance, Ch III

A/N: hiii sorry this took so long, all the chapters are posted on my AO3, same username. hopefully the next update will be better, i’m not too proud of this one :,(

previous chapters are on AO3 and my master list, here

You and Melissa had agreed on meeting after school for coffee on Thursday, giving you each time to prepare some work. One of her students was showing signs of dyslexia, and after a one-on-one meeting with the student, the redhead decided to take action. Via email, she gave you some information to get started and make an IEP for her. It was quite early in the year, and with it being your first year doing this job, you were quite nervous. Nonetheless, you put your best foot forward and got to work nearly immediately.

Of course, your habit of drowning yourself in work caught the attention of others. A knock at your door pulled you away from the research in front of you. “Hey you! I feel like you’ve been here for weeks and we’ve barely bonded,” Janine announced herself, entering the room. The younger teacher was sweet, and even though her overzealous personality could be a bit much, you knew it was coming from a good heart.

“Sorry, Janine. I get wrapped up in work pretty easily. How’s your Tuesday going? Kids treating you right?” You asked, minimizing the tabs on your computer.

“Oh my students are great, right now we’re working on fractions and it’s actually going good!” She said enthusiastically. “I’m glad to hear, can I help you with anything?” You continued.

“Uh, yeah! Jacob and I are going out for trivia on Thursday, you should totally join us! I heard you went to a great university and we would love to spend some time together after school. Have you met Jacob? He’s so sweet you’ll love him, you know actually-” You cut off Janine before she could start one of her infamous rants, which you heard lots about and we’re lucky to avoid until this point.

“Actually, I can’t Thursday. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to get to know you guys but, I’m actually meeting with Ms. Schemmenti to help one of her students out.”

Janine’s face dropped, and just as quick as it did, she returned to her peppy demeanor. It reminded you of what she previously said about Melissa, and you silently wondered if there was any truth to it. “Oh, no worries. I’m sure we’ll figure something out soon,” Seemingly wanting to avoid more rejection, Janine gathered her things. “Wait, Friday is our half day, right? Maybe we could go grab lunch or something after school? Make up for me missing trivia?” You offered, not wanting to make her feel bad.

It seemed like you made the right choice, as Janine immediately bounced back. “That would be awesome! I’ll tell Jacob right now, see you around!”

The rest of the week passed by rather quickly, filled with new paperwork and projects that you continued to work on. Thursday came before you knew it, and with the final bell, the plans you had put most of your attention to were gathered, on their way with you to meet Melissa for coffee.

Opus was gorgeous inside, filled with neutral colors and artwork from the team and local artists. Plants covered the walls and even decorated some tables. It was nice, you were happy to meet the redhead in a place like this. Upon seeing her, you felt your breath catch and couldn’t take your eyes away. Sure, it was right after school so she was wearing the same pink sweater and tight jeans, but something about seeing her more relaxed, outside of the school walls, it made your heart beat a little bit faster.

“Hey hon, thanks for meeting with me after school. I brought some stuff to brainstorm with…” She trailed off, picking a table for the two of you and immediately covering it with papers and binders. Janine’s voice rang in your head again, and you began to feel insecure about where you stood with Melissa. Maybe even stupid, for thinking she would find a friend in you.

“That’s fine, I’m gonna grab our coffees, macchiato?” You asked, but Melissa was quick to turn down the offer. “Absolutely not, you buy me coffee all the time. It’s my turn,” she walked past you, gently pushing you to the side with a hand on your back. Just as quickly as you remembered the infamous words about the older teacher, you forgot them.

The rest of the afternoon was that way. One moment, completely entranced by the woman across the table from you, unable to pull your attention away. The next, avoiding eye contact and feeling uncomfortable and used. Something told you Melissa noticed your switch in behaviors almost every time, the way she would mimic your actions. It was impossible to read her. Maybe she wanted it that way, maybe you just couldn’t read her.

After a couple of hours of this back and forth, the two of you decided to call it. “Thank you, again, for helping me. It means a lot,” Melissa said outside of the cafe, wind blowing her hair ever so slightly. “Oh…It’s no problem, I’ll see you tomorrow,” You smiled and turned to take your leave, anxiety bubbling at the surface, until a hand grabbed your wrist to face its owner yet again. “Hey, what’s goin’ on with you today? Usually you’re more…I don’t know…upbeat and engaged. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. I just…I mentioned to Janine the lunch you shared with me earlier and she said something that made me a little nervous,” You answered. As much as you didn’t want to tell the truth, you figured lying would be even worse. Instead of replying, Melissa motioned for you to continue. “She said she hoped you weren’t buttering me up for something and why else would you be nice to me?”

Wrong choice. Melissa’s eyes widened and you could see all the rage she had in her expression. “Oh, so I can’t be nice to the newbie for one day? I gotta get somethin’ out of it? And you believed her…This whole time? Whole time you’ve been buying me coffee and offering to help, what are you trying to get out of it?” She yelled, and didn’t give you any time to retaliate as she got in her car and left you on the steps.

Defeated, you stood alone for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts. You felt like an idiot, again. For believing what Janine said, and for treating Melissa poorly. You threw your work into the passenger seat of the car and drove to trivia.

“Oh my god! I thought you weren’t coming? Weren’t you going to meet Melissa today?” Janine nearly yelled as she ran from her booth of friends up to you. “Yeah…I did. It didn’t go too well actually so I wanted to come here and at least have a good night. I hope that’s okay?”

“Of course it is, here come sit with all of us.” Janine led you back to the booth with Jacob and Gregory, happy to be in the company of new friends. “Alright, trivia doesn’t start for another thirty minutes, what happened?” Janine asked, which was followed by Jacob interrogating you as well, and Gregory listening attentively. You explained the entire afternoon to the three of them, hoping to at least get it out of your system. All three of them had something different to say, but you took Gregory’s advice to heart.

“Listen, Melissa’s a bit tough on the outside, but she always means well. Just apologize to her for reacting that way and, with time, I’m sure things will be fine.”

Thankfully, trivia started shortly after the advice dump you received, and you were happy to be done talking about it. Hopefully tomorrow morning, with a macchiato and an apology, you could make it up to Melissa.

#abbott elementary fics #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #wlw #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti

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lurkingshan · 19 days

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Hii, hope you're doing well!! I've been meaning to check out more c-dramas. I've never really watched any, but I keep seeing them on my dash and want to start giving some a shot since I watch every other type of drama (BL or otherwise lol). I saw you post often about c-dramas, so I wanted to ask if you had any other recs besides Tender Light (which I'm planning on watching when it's done)? I'm more curious about c-dramas in general rather than any specific genre, since I'm so new to them

Hello, thank you for the ask! I'm glad my obsessive Tender Light posting has got you curious about cdramas. Some of my all time favorite dramas are from Mainland China, and I would be happy to share some recs! Since you are looking for a general sense, I am just going to give you a sampling of some of my personal favs.

Tender Light

Obviously I will be taking this opportunity to talk up this drama some more, which will be ending its run this weekend. This is, hands down, my favorite drama of the year and easily going on my top 10 dramas of all time list. It's one of the most gorgeous and precise and unflinching pieces of media I have ever seen. This is definitely one for people who love smart mystery writing, dark themes (I mean this for real, if you have a lot of triggers ask for CWs), and explorations of the human condition. It will be staying with me for a long time.

Go Ahead

Another of my all time favs (and with cast crossover from Tender Light), this is a family drama that digs deep on the meaning of family, finding your people, and resilience through intergenerational trauma. I love it so so much (I am actually rewatching it right now).

Lighter & Princess

A fantastic romance and owner of a coveted spot on the ride or die drama couples list. In this story you get to watch these two fall in love twice, first in college and then as adults, and both times it's epic.

Reset

How about a time loop thriller? This is one of the best I have ever seen, and its relatively short run keeps it tight and tense all the way through. There's a romance in this one, too, but kissing is definitely secondary to finding their way out of this death trap.

The Rebel Princess

Let's dip our toe into historicals! Granted, I still have plenty of gaps in my historical cdrama watch list (there are just so many and they're so long, I am doing my best people!) but this remains my all time favorite to date. It's epic, it's shockingly well written and paced for its length, the characters are excellent and compelling all around, and it has one of my all time favorite male leads and drama couples (another from the ride or die list!). Don't let the episode number intimidate you, it will fly by much faster than you think.

The Untamed

You watch bl so I am assuming you already know about Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, but just in case I will also include this drama as a much watch. It's likely the best live action danmei we will ever get.

Love Between Fairy and Devil

Have you ever wondered what it would be like if a show put all your favorite fanfic tropes in a blender, cast beautiful people to act them out, and put them in lavish costumes? Well, here is your answer.

Love and Redemption

This one's for us angst with a happy ending girlies. An epic love story with lots of pining and struggle and strife, and it's so worth it.

Falling Into You

Back to the modern era, this is a classic sports drama with a noona romance. Very unassuming but full of charm and very well executed.

Fake It Till You Make It

An unusually mature take on adult romance from a cdrama, this one is about two career focused permasingle love skeptics who meet, realize they actually like each other, and try to figure out what the hell to do with that. I love it a lot.

That should be enough to get you started! There are many many more recs to be had, so once you give some of these a try and figure out what you like, feel free to hit me up for more!

#tender light #go ahead #lighter and princess #reset #the rebel princess #the untamed #love between fairy and devil #love and redemption #falling into you #fake it till you make it #cdrama #shan recommends #shan answers

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c0wb0yenthusiast · 3 months

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Country Boy - Part II

Phillip Graves/Fem!reader

Summary : There’s a little tension between you and Phillip, but surely you can avoid it? Not when you get tipsy at your welcome party and share a rather intimate moment, revealing some feelings in question to each other.

Word count : 3.4k

A/N : was about to post this earlier then realised a funny glitch had happened and the whole beginning had been deleted…. So I had to redo it and I PRAY it’s not choppy or anything!! Anyways thank you to everybody who read part 1, I appreciate all of your support and hope this part lives up to your expectations! :))

All morning, your mind seemed to be preoccupied.

You prepare your tea in utter silence, finding peace in the soft clank of utensils on plates while your parents eat at the table. Your shoulders are hunched and your back is to them, which allows a little more privacy to let the events of earlier sink in.

Phillip Graves.

Phillip Graves was on your porch. He teased you.

And you let him.

You’re busy pouring hot water into your mug, now attempting to recover everything about that meeting that your mind allowed you to.

It was almost horrible how good he looked, prompting you to keep your head low as you approach the table with your mug cupped in your hands.

He was so tall, so broad and so much more handsome. However, now he brandished a scar sliced deeply into his cheekbone from what you saw. It contrasted his tanned skin and stood out among the small nips and marks he’d collected on his skin since seemingly forever.

His hair fit perfectly under his hat, small dirty blond strands peeking from underneath. You felt as if he was teasing you. Look at me now, look at what you missed out on.

You blow on your tea quietly, hiding the fact it’s actually a deep exhale to comprehend the sight you saw this morning.

Leaning against the arch of your porch, he was wearing a red flannel which managed to hug him in all the right places. His broad shoulders were now defined and so were his arms. The plaid flannel pulled up to reveal his strong, muscled forearms wasn’t warding you off at all.

It’s embarrassing that you remember these features from such a short meeting, causing you to raise your mug to your mouth slowly in an attempt to cover the sheepish smile appearing at the memory of how he used to hold you back then. The way his warm hands cupped your face perfectly, as if they were two pieces connecting in a jigsaw puzzle. You now wished you could’ve gotten a better glimpse at them this morning.

“Is something wrong, dear?” Your mother takes notice of your silent routine, which makes you eye her nervously.

“Nothing. Just.. Phillip-“

“What does that boy want?” Your father interrupts, facing you with an accusatory glare.

“He said your fencing had arrived, wanted you to pick it up.” You mumble awkwardly, wishing you could sink into your mug of coffee and never return. It’s barely been a day and the city seems to be calling your name already with open arms.

You would’ve happily embraced it again, but now you’re here. No regrets, right?

“Oh. Alright.” He shrugs, stretching and getting out of his chair.

Alright?

What is going on?

Ten years ago, your father and Phillip’s rivalry seemed to be unmatched. It pretty much was the talk of the town - the love-struck teen and the unmoved father.

You don’t respond, draining your mug and sitting there stock still. There’s a lot to process this morning.

Like the way Phillip barely looked at you. His eyes only grazing over your face for a split second before directing his attention to his truck or the front door. It’s a little obvious if you say so.

But you can’t help but mourn over the way his gaze would tenderly trace over your figure, how he took his time to memorise any scar or beauty mark somewhere across your body. He’d always run his thumb over his gently at first, but as the two of you got more comfortable in the relationship he learned how much you loved it when he kissed any of your birthmarks.

You stop yourself; you have a husband, you can’t be thinking like this. You’ve moved on.

And clearly Phillip has moved on too. Probably for the better, you reassure yourself. It’s been 10 years, everyone seemed to have given up on chances of you returning.

You’re rinsing your cup in the sink when your internal argument seems to be intercepted by your father.

“I’m heading into town to pick up some equipment, would you like to come, dear?” As he finishes his sentence, his warm hand pats your shoulder gently.

You try not to give off any startled reaction to this sudden touch, you don’t want your family catching onto your mental battles with the memories flooding back so quickly and harshly into your mind once more.

You watch him for a second, he’s pulling a very hopeful yet playful smile, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

“Sure, Pa. I’ll come along.”

He cracks a grin, clapping your shoulder happily before turning away.

“Be dressed by 10!”

You’re overthinking this.

They’re just clothes, you reassure yourself but can’t help shrinking from the intimidating way the assorted pieces of garments glare at you from their position on the bed.

It never used to be this difficult, or at least you don’t remember it like this. Maybe it was because you were a teenage girl and wore all the cute little dresses and cropped items you could get your hands on. You never used to worry like this.

Probably because of Phillip.

You tense a little at the thought of him again. Yet you do remember how he’d savour every outfit you wore, even if you’d worn it before.

“You look great, honey.” He’d whisper to you at some point in the day, his hands comfortably stroking your waist as his eyes would examine every inch of you.

You caught yourself smiling fondly at the memory, but it’s countered by the sudden remembrance of his coldness this morning.

You don’t waste any more time, grabbing whatever catches your eye to throw together an ensemble. It’s not like anyone will care.

The town is sure lively. You’re trying not to act surprised at the influx of new faces meshed with old ones and little children running around, sharing old traits from former classmates.

Just a reminder of how far you’ve seen to have gotten in your marriage with Louis. The only success being his job - you’re just working in his office so he can keep a very inattentive eye on you. You groan and lean back into your seat, trying to shield yourself away from prying eyes that throw cursory glances at your father’s large, quite obtrusive car.

Thinking about Louis and the city was enough to completely lower your mood, including the past memories and flickers of Deja vu when one of your senses encounters something vaguely familiar. It’s like a magic spell of some sort, fleshing out your life 10 years ago and how it may have affected you if you’d stayed.

The car reverses into a parking spot and you hear the thud of the drivers door slamming shut.

“Sweetie, hop out. I’m sure uncle Jimmy will be shocked to see you.” He adds, grinning and patting the car firmly. It seems playful but in reality it’s a bit of a threat.

You slip out hesitantly, allowing the beams of the full sun to encase your body with warmth as well as the now very noticeable sounds and voices flowing around you.

It’s so much quieter than the city yet very distinct, while on your painfully slow journey to the entrance of the shop you overhear someone reciting their shopping list, gossip between two old ladies and complaints about the weather.

This all leaves your mind the minute the shop bell rings as you push open the door.

“Finally, what took you so long?” It’s a rhetorical question. Your father stands by the counter expectantly, looking eagerly to you then to Jimmy at the counter.

He’s not really your uncle, just a saying.

Just a neighbour who used to bring his daughter around, then stopped frequenting after an ‘incident’ broke out at your school and realised it would be a hazard to bring the bratty 13-year-old over again.

He’s not a bad guy, you reassure yourself. Sauntering up to the counter with a smile across your face, he returns it and chuckles at the sight of you.

“You’re all grown up now! I remember when you were just a small thing, hon.” He gestures with his hand, amusement clearly visible on his face at this ‘rare sighting’ of the girl who finally came back.

The city mouse becoming the country mouse she used to be.

“Just what I said! She’s all big and successful in the city, you see, Jim? Even married too!” He exclaims.

Your dad has a habit of doing this, which you’ve grown used to - showing off in front of any other middle aged man. Maybe they’re competition? Who knows.

You’re smiling very calmly, nodding and chuckling lightly just to ease the time and escape from this conversation. The words only begin to sink in once you hear a very specific sentence. More like a word.

A name.

“Yeah, how’s your nephew Phil doing? He an errand boy now? Came round this morning to tell me about those fences.”

“Oh yeah, he’s doing just fine. Pretty damn skilled too, if you need some help with those fences I’ll send him over later.”

You almost freeze.

You can’t interact with him more than once today. You need a break from his painfully pretty face, silky smooth voice, breathtaking blue eyes-

“No need for a later, Jim, I’m right here.”

It’s coming from behind you.

No time to shrink or hide, but that would be futile anyways. It’s almost silly how worked up you’re getting.

“Speak of the devil, Phillip. Sorry I missed you this morning.” Your dad turns and greets him happily, you can hear the clap as their hands collide into a hearty handshake.

You also turn to face him, forcing a smile as his gaze lingered on you.

“Nice to see you back in town, Y/N.” He comments, his hands drifting to hold onto his belt rather than shaking your hand. Or touching you at all.

You think it’s because of the tension, the unresolved problems left behind 10 years ago that are apparently prevalent now still as you can’t seem to look at him for too long.

From the way his hand tightens around his belt loop, he’s feeling similar to you.

“Phillip? You mind coming round sometime to help an old man out?” Your dad interrupts this strangely intense moment, as Philip’s face seems to ease to his usual soft smile and attentive manner.

“Sure can do. But I don’t want to interrupt that party you’re having later with the neighbourhood.” He adds, probably an attempt to weasel out of seeing you again today.

“Nonsense! You’re practically family so don’t give me any excuses, just get your ass over there.”

And with that, your father lets out a hearty laugh and claps a hand on your shoulder. You try not to look as winded as you are from the utter force he exudes.

“I’ll see you soon then. Tom. Y/N.” He addresses the two of you with a fairly civil tone, but it’s hardened at the edges.

He walks out and you desperately drag your wandering eyes away from his form fitting flannel and jeans.

The party is civil.

That’s all you can say about it, because there’s not much else to really pay attention to other than the small, seemingly riveting conversations everybody seems to be having apart from you.

Obviously people come and ask how you’re doing and what your current life goals are, but you just throw out a few repeated phrases you’ve found reassures them the best from the masses of people who flocked to you when walking around town earlier with your father.

It’s not exhausting, but more nerve-wracking. Not everyone wants to see anybody apart from their own family achieving something more in their lives. At least, that’s what you look like to them.

You’re just tired.

So, so tired.

You’re observing the overall party from a swing in the backyard. Your dress delicately spread across the seat and hanging off of the seat a little. It’s a bright pink, which your mother insisted didn’t ‘wash you out’ whatsoever and was the perfect choice for a party.

That is if you’re attending a five year old’s tea party. Which you would rather.

Kids don’t tut at you when you explain your job to them, neither do they spout vaguely critical comments when they believe you aren’t listening.

“It’s nice to see her back after so long, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes, she’s definitely… blossomed… into that beauty of hers.”

“Exactly!”

You can only sit and watch, unbothered at this rate. You’re married and have your life together; people just want to pick at anything they can.

Everything seems to change when the familiar honk of a horn rings from the front of the house. You’re practically leaning out of your chair completely to catch a quick glimpse.

However, you instantly relax once more as your father comes into the backyard accompanied by Philip Graves.

White button up, soft blue blazer thrown on lazily and jeans. You don’t want to linger on him, it’s not right. It’s not fair.

So you get up and do something about it.

You stumble out of your chair, walking down to where everybody seemed to be congregating and looked around for the bowl of your mother’s special punch.

Maybe if you drowned yourself in punch it would avoid having to look at his pretty face. His infuriatingly beautiful face.

Your movements begin as careful, long pours of punch with the ladle into your glass as you throw around polite smiles and chatter. As you refill your glass more and more, the familiar sound of punch swishing in the cup begins to ring in your head. And so do the conversations around you.

You don’t know how long you’ve been idly sipping punch for, but it’s enough time to let the effects of the rather strong beverages -mixed in by your mother- take effect.

You forget that you’re a grown adult now who probably shouldn’t be drinking like a party girl on a weekend. But that thought slips out of your head too quickly to develop into rational feelings, so you just laugh it off and sloppily place the glass on whatever stable surface is the nearest to you.

Wandering through the groups of people, sometimes barging past and almost tripping headfirst into the grass or just walking right in the middle of a conversation just for the convenience of it.

At this rate it’s only to justify why your head feels like it’s melting. God, what was in that punch? It’s not like you’re the biggest lightweight on Earth, but it’s been awhile since you’ve drank that hard in such a short period of time.

At least, that’s what you realise looking back on the situation.

Right now you’re just trying to get back to your seat. Solace away from all the faces you keep bumping into. Somewhere that isn’t spinning, and spinning and spinning.

And spinning.

You slump back into your chair, utterly drained from the strenuous journey of climbing three steps while drunk. It’s such a huge achievement that you smile to yourself, satisfied with your efforts.

You’re busy taking a moment for this newfound quiet to settle into your raving brain when a blur of blue and brown seems to appear in the corner of your eye.

“Here’s the girl of the hour.” He’s suddenly next to you, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms crossed over his chest.

Now that he’s here, you’ve been dying to get a better glimpse at his muscles than this morning.

You only smile passively at him, letting the words flow into one ear and out of the other as your eyes are now fixated on his strong arms.

Phillip isn’t offended by your lack of response, more so concerned at the blankness in your expression.

“Sugar? You alright there…?” He questions, a little amused at your wide eyed, careful examination of his muscles.

Without thinking - which you seem a little bad at doing right now - your hand reaches out and your fingertips glide over his bicep. It’s solid, sturdy and hugs against his blazer in a flattering way.

Now you’re smiling even harder, fondly remembering how he’d carry you home when you were too tired to walk after a date. Or his joy when you’d run to him and he’d instantly wrap his arms around you and spin, your dress would almost float.

You don’t know why these memories seem to flood back at this very moment, but it furthers this euphoric state that you’re slowly slipping into.

“Remember when you used to hold me like a princess?” You murmur, looking up at him with a tenderness evident in your gaze.

He attempts to hide the way his eyes widened at your question, or how he’s beginning to falter or look away. You’re not very aware of it in that moment - but it haunts you afterwards.

“I do. Because you were. Are.” He adds, almost firmly as his hand moves to yours and his fingers brush against your knuckles. It’s funny how he seems to instinctively slow his movements purposefully just so he’s gentle with you, as if you were a doll.

“I’m not.. I’m not a little girl anymore..” you sigh, accepting his fingers intertwining with yours now. His rough, calloused fingers that always seemed to soften in your grasp. The hands that always seemed tense or even clenched in fists most of the time, but were always laid out for you to touch to your liking as your relationship progressed.

He doesn’t initially notice something nudging on his fingers, but glances down at your hands out of curiosity.

There’s two rings on your hand. One on your ring finger and another on your middle; it’s easy to tell which one was made by a lovestruck boy professing his dedication to a high-school sweetheart, whereas the other is flashy, decorative and unthought of. It didn’t strike him as something you used to wear, especially when it clashed with the other ring. His ring.

The ring he saved up for and pleaded for ever so desperately as he handed over his wages to his uncle, asking him for advice on what to make for his girlfriend at the time.

But that didn’t seem to matter anymore. Not when this ring was clearly an engagement ring.

I was planning to come here when I got married, the statement rings in his mind.

“I know. You’re a big girl now, hm?” He chuckles dryly, using humour to cope with the fact you’re touching him. Even after your tense conversation this morning; the conversation that mostly consisted of him speaking and you watching, mouth agape as if you’d just seen a ghost.

He thought he’d been dead to you anyways, especially with your sudden disappearance and lack of communication. Was he that insignificant?

Clearly not, he interrupts his doubts. Clearly not when you’re touching him the exact same way you did like 10 years haven’t passed and you weren’t already taken by some lucky bastard. Engaged. Basically married at this rate if he’s lucky.

His hand slips out of your grasp seamlessly. Deep down he’s berating himself, practically begging himself to hug you, hold you, kiss you so hard his lips bruise and he cannot possibly breathe anymore.

But he doesn’t do any of these things.

You’re looking up at him plainly, waiting for his next move. There’s no animosity or embarrassment clouding your face like the way it was in his uncle’s shop or your front porch.

It’s just you.

The dreamy, doll-like girl he’d happily mapped out his future with while she listened attentively, chirping in her thoughts about what she wanted to do in the future alongside him.

“Sorry, sugar. I’ve got to go to work now.” He whispers, turning away and walking off again. Walking away from the one thing he craves. He’d lost his chance, so what was the point?

He may as well just watch you succeed from afar, living a life that doesn’t involve a country bumpkin from her past ruining her plans.

His footsteps become a little forceful, digging into the dirt and kicking any little stones out of his way.

God, he probably looked so stupid.

He drives off without another word, leaving you a little dazed as you lay back into your chair. You don’t want to even try to think about what just happened, so you just sit there for what feels like forever until people begin to disperse.

Slowly but surely, the crowd grows smaller and smaller and the minute everybody is gone, you run up to your room.

You run as quickly as you can, not waiting to hear your parents’ questions or concerns. This was all a mistake.

A really confusing mistake.

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #fanfiction #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #cod mw2 fanfic #call of duty #warren kole #call of duty fanfic

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bg3ficreviews · 2 months

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The Wilted Dreams of Baldur's Gate series - BG3 Fic Review

Review by Apollo (@apollo-stories)

Good news, dear readers, after taking it outside and fighting the other reviewers in a Wendy’s parking lot, I have won the rights to review this wonderful collection with our favourite vampire, Astarion.

Wilted Dreams Of Baldur’s Gate is a seven-part collection examining Astarion and Tav’s relationship across the game and post-canon written by author emicha on AO3. You can also find emicha here on Tumblr at @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate.

There’s something for everyone in this series with some fluffy slice of life here, a little angst there, and a generous portion of smut. The series beautifully explores the ups and downs of a relationship between two traumatised individuals trying to find healing and hope.

A note from the BG3FicReviews team: As always, mind the tags! Our review is continued below the fold due to the NSFW nature of the content in some of these works.

This incredible virtual photography of our favourite vampire spawn was taken by @astarielx over on Twitter. Shared here with her permission.

This collection reminds me of a Studio Ghibli movie. If you’d like, you can read it once and enjoy it for the warmth and romance of the domestic, mundane life. That said, However it speaks to the talent of the way the author has that they have managed to create a story that feels so effortlessly natural, yet still includes weight and depth to both the characters and the plot is truly remarkable.

The series begins with You, Blinding Like The Sun.

We dive into Astarion’s feelings and conflict in the early days of his relationship with Tav. The feelings are new, and difficult to manage. We can see some initial comparisons with Cazador here as Astarion sees Tav as some perfect being he cannot hope to emulate, someone superior to him. He creates his own power imbalance because he doesn’t know any other option. Astarion has been shoved into the sunlight both literally and figuratively. Overwhelmed by the situation he finds himself in, his immediate response is to lash out.

As their journey progresses, however, this balance shifts. The author shows the reader the imperfections in both characters and how their relationship adjusts around those personal flaws.

Astarion decides that Tav is someone he wants to have alongside him through the blinding difficulty and the imperfections. It’s a wonderful beginning to a well-rounded relationship.

The following two works - Steady Hands, Frame My Love and A Gift That Keeps On Giving - focus on the developing relationship between Astarion and Tav. More specifically, the author demonstrates how the pair navigate complicated situations together.

The reader sees Astarion’s flaws and Tav’s love for him because of them (rather than in spite of them), with Astarion mirroring the sentiment about the ever imperfect Tav.

You can also see Astarion’s healing with the way he views Tav. There is little focus on appearance, more on the smaller inflections and imperfect edges. After Astarion was used for his good looks so many times, this is a refreshing contrast. The reader can see this in several of the works; as the relationship develops, we can see how they prioritise each other over appearances every time.

This collection was surprisingly relaxing to read. The work Darling, Mind if I Enjoy Myself? is a lovely smutty treat with no small amount of teasing and fluff. It’s easy enough to enjoy for the smut alone, but a deeper read reveals the depth of their affections for one another and just how much the pair enjoy being together. They are in love, and every moment is drawn out as they relish every moment.

Starlit Skirts is the end of the timeline of this series, but it is not the final story. It’s a beautifully sweet climax, with a lovely surprise at the end.

The sixth work in the series, The Scent of Missing Buttons, is actually a prequel to the previous five, and touches on the night Astarion was taken by the nautiloid.

In the prequel, the author shows us Astarion’s life as Cazador’s spawn. Astarion’s trauma is made manifest, reflecting how deeply he has been dehumanised, even to himself, to the point that he scolds himself for not grovelling enough in front of his abuser and tormentor. We are introduced to a version of Astarion that has been shattered into a thousand different pieces over the past two centuries.

Once you’ve read The Scent of Missing Buttons, the entire story unfurls like a flower in bloom. The writer has sewn links and connections into each work like the pearls on a wedding dress, and you can enjoy finding each Easter egg on your re-read (which I highly recommend). For example, you’ll find a change in sentence structure and shorter paragraph length in The Scent of Missing Buttons. It reflect Astarion’s dissociation and disconnection while under Cazador’s command, his mind numb, focusing only on what is necessary to his survival. In contrast, once Astarion meets Tav, the author’s writing becomes increasingly descriptive and poetic as Astarion starts to see the world with new eyes. The Author’s work is a fascinating example of how even something as simple as formatting and sentence structure can convey depth and nuance.

As a character, Astarion is remarkably malleable, and I’ve yet to find an interpretation of him that I don’t enjoy. His journey towards a healthy romance with Tav makes for a beautiful story with a great deal of depth, akin to a thousand fragile threads linking together with the strength of steel and creating a beautiful tapestry of their love for one another.

With the work’s excellent depiction of Astarion’s struggle to survive, his panic in a new relationship and the active choice he makes to choose loving Tav over fearing Cazador, I would happily read each chapter again and again.

Not to be outdone with the already excellent six works I've already mentioned, emicha has now added a seventh work (published only a few days ago) that I have yet to read, namely Springtime Caresses. If it is anything like its predecessors, I absolutely can't wait to sink my teeth into it.

We have included a snippet of the first work in the series below for your enjoyment. As always, please remember to support the author's work with comments and kudos. 🫶

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You, Blinding Like the Sun

He despises you.

From the moment Astarion first laid eyes upon you—confident, selfless little elf, blinding like the sun—he has despised you. You with your dazzling golden eyes, the sweet flush on the tip of your pointy ears. Your artfully arranged hair, kissed by the sun to make it shine like fine silk. The cute little freckles sprinkled all over your unmarred skin—skin that has never been touched by undesired hands. You who lived long enough to choose a name for yourself—to make a name for yourself.

How he despises all of it.

The way you win anyone over with nothing but an honest smile; the sheer purpose in your every step. That nasty confidence of yours that isn't some skill you ever needed to acquire because, to you, it comes all-natural, of course—you were born with it. Astarion can tell it's true because he’s spent two centuries mimicking the behaviour of people just like you.

And he despises you for it.

Before you were even born, the gods have bestowed their gifts on you, and here you are, not even knowing what power you hold, how very blessed you are. You wouldn’t even care if you knew, because the fact of the matter is that you have no need for gods nor gifts nor skills. Not when people gravitate towards you as if you have hung the stars. And how dreadfully inviting you always are, so very accommodating.

You can find the entire series here on AO3.

Review edited by Aivu (@aivuthedragon).

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfic review #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 fic reviews #bg3 smut

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penvisions · 4 months

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the melting point {chapter 16}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: In the aftermath of a rather eventful and terrifying last summer farmer's market, you try to find a semblance of normalcy as best you can. Meanwhile, Frankie is up to something that is beginning to cause you to worry about the burden you've become in your recovery.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: medical jargon, mild language, emotional monologues, internal monologue, negative feelings, negative thoughts, ptsd symptoms, pining, emotional pining, depressive thoughts, description of pain and injuries, blood, descriptions of post shooting chaos, panic attacks, notions of death, hospital setting, mentions of needles and iv's, mentions of narcotics, use of prescription narcotics, feelings of inadequacy, angst

A/N: um, so it's been four months since i've touched this fic, then i woke up yesterday morning and just began writing like nothing. takes breaks when you need to, don't force things and it'll all work out. please let me know what y'all think!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“C’mon, hang on for me baby, please, don’t-don’t close your eyes.”

“Mantequilla, everything is gonna be okay, I promise, we’re all here for you, please know that everything is going to be okay.”

“We’ve got you, you did so good, you saved my little girl, you did, you saved her.”

“Honey, we all love you so much, please stay strong, I’ll hold your hand the entire way there.”

“Let’s get you turned over, ma’am, c’mon. There we go, you’re doing amazing.”

“Santi, she-she-“

“Papa!! Papa, please help her, I love her! Tio Santi, do something!!”

“Merde, that’s so much blood, Frankie you’ve gotta focus, you’ve gotta calm her down. Get her home safe, to your mother’s, somewhere safe.”

“Will!! They got her, call Morgan! She went missing the second things got crazy.”

“Has anyone seen Benny?”

“They’re transporting her now, rushing her to surgery the second the get there.”

“She’s lost a lot of blood, any donations with the same blood type would be appreciated. Who here is a positive?”

“Sweet girl, please, you’ve got to pull through, I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”

“No response, it’s been how many days now?”

“She’s being rushed into another surgery, she keeps clotting. They can’t figure out why.”

“Fransico Morales? You’re next of kin?”

“No, no, but we’re all she has. Her family is flying out, they’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Taylor, take a moment, it’s…it’s a lot to take in.”

“Daddy, why is tia all tangled in those machines, she’s going to be okay, right?”

“This is my son, he wanted to come and cheer her up because she always did the same for him when he was sick.”

“Please, mi amor, please, you have to make it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Fractered memories played over each other, words echoing and bouncing off of each other through the fog that was all you knew. You couldn’t feel anything, all of your senses stripped away, and you were nothing more than a half-conscious mind tunneling in and out of suspended darkness.

Beeping, an even beeping was the only steady thing you could make out. Sense of environment completely gone and sense of awareness slowly trickling in. Your eyes hurt as you slowly blinked them open, the faint lights around you too bright and you clenched them shut with a huff that pulled at your lungs. The stillness of where you were was shattered as the clattering of a chair sounded, followed by a pair of hands tightening around yours that were settled over your middle. A hushed order to go fetch someone and then a deep voice was rumbling close. You turned your head toward the presence hovering close to your left side, drawn to whoever it was.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, sweet girl.”

A grunt sounded from deep in your chest as you tried to open your mouth and respond. Then a gasp when pain reverberated from the same spot. You tried to shift your legs, hips feeling oddly numb but you couldn’t quite feel them. It was as if they were asleep, but… you cracked your eyes open a second time, squinting down the length of the bed you were in. Your legs were there, obvious underneath the thin, knit, scratchy blankets that only a hospital possessed. You tried to shift again, but even your hips didn’t feel like a part of your body. Your eyes flew open completely, tearing up at the brightness of the room.

Shuddering breaths pulled deep hurt, but you tried to shift again and again but there was no movement underneath the blanket. None.

“Okay, alright, querida, please. Take a deep breath, it’s-it’s gonna be okay.” Frankie. It had been Frankie speaking to you, close to you. His hands reached out for your own, where you had pried them from him to try and prop yourself up, wires and tubes pulling, clattering against each other and making your head swim. “The doctors-“

“I know this must be quite a shock, but it’s good that you’re awake!” A white coat, thrown over a modest skirt and blouse, blonde hair. A kind face, pinched. A furrowed brow. Bad news on the tip of her tongue.

You tried to speak, demand why you couldn’t feel anything below your waist. But you could only croak out the faintest notions of words. Everything was a blur, the hospital room you were in a mess of blue and white, the beeping of machines hurting your ears. Nothing made any sense, confusion coloring every thought as to how you got here and why.

“Let’s get you some water and food first, your body is pretty weak right now. Can I get a level two meal delivered to room thirteen eighty-nine, please?” She turned to address someone who had been hidden behind her, a nurse in teal scrubs.

“Tell me.” You managed to croak out, eyes fixated on her pinched ones.

“I would really prefer to get you a little acclimated.”

“No.”

Her eyes flickered toward Frankie, as if in a silent plea to get him to calm you down and put you at ease however little he could manage. But you ignored the warm weight of his hand on your shoulder, eyes trained on the doctor in front of you as you tried to find more strength to speak around the dry cotton feel of your mouth, the panging hunger that was present in your stomach, the lack of control over your body.

She sighed, arms holding the clipboard in front her in an imitation of a fig leave over her hips.

“We had you in a medically induced coma for the last two weeks. I’m not sure all of what you remember, the brain is fickle that way, pushing things and events out in response to trauma.” She didn’t look from you as the sound of fast steps approached the door, nor when a large figure moved passed her and came straight to your right side. It was Taylor. Both of the most important men in your life on your sides. He was quiet, but you could see the evidence of tears in the puffiness of his eyes, the lack of a smile on his face as he hovered close.

“You were hit in the sacrum and coccyx region, paralyzing you from the waist down. We performed three surgeries to remove the bullet shards and repair as much of the damage as possible. Your blood flow and reflex reactions have improved but we had no way of knowing if anything truly worked until you woke. A week has passed since we stopped inducing you, we were beginning to think you might not wake up.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur, medical terms floating heavy in the air of the room. Daunting, terrifying, life altering. You didn’t think you could handle another life altering event of this caliber. But it didn’t look like you had to traverse it alone. You teared up once the doctor left the room, offering to come back and talk to you once visiting hours were over, though she had mildly glared at both men as she said it. But knowing them both, they had been alternating staying the night to watch over you past the set hours that allowed for them to be present.

You had two wonderful men who were willing to do anything for you, one with a friend group who would follow his lead and the other who had given you so much already. You hoped it wouldn’t be too much, taking what they were willing to give.

“It’s a lot,” Taylor’s voice broke, his words spoken through eyes glittering with tears. His hands tight around yours as he leaned his forehead against yours, completely in your personal space. “But we’ve done somethin’ like this before and we can do it again. We can do it again.”

You could only nod, throat and voice still weak from weeks of disuse.

He walked closer to the side of the bed, the man’s large build shadowing over you in the dimmer setting of the lights you had requested. The full effect of them too bright for you eyes after being unconscious for so long. You reached out to him, urging him to sit atop it as best he could as you all but threw yourself at him. He let you, aware of Frankie standing close to the other side, eyes watering as he heard the cries that began to bubble up from you.

“I-I-“

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re both here.” Taylor murmured, as he wrapped his own arms around you to pull you close. He smelled like your apartment, a mix of faint buttercream and the rose perfume you favored all rolled into one comforting scent. His own masked by the time he had been in town. “Alfred was here too, but he had to be taken back for school. He sat with you every day for that first week and read to you. He was so worried about you, mami. He kept talking with you like he always does, hoping you would wake up and respond.”

Frankie excused himself, his phone beeping in his pocket and the sound of you crying too much for him to handle all at once. You watched him leave the room, his shadow visible through the blinds in the window looking into the room as he paced up and down the hallway just outside. His voice a low murmur as he spoke with whoever had been trying to contact him.

“I didn’t mean to scare him…or you. I’m so sorry, that call – it must’ve been so terrifying.” You hiccupped into his chest, unable to stop the tears and emotions from flowing all at once, overwhelmed and completely at a loss of how to respond to anything at the moment.

Hushed words eradicated any ill thoughts you were having of yourself, comforting in their genuine indication. He assured you he had been able to handle it, that he was able to handle the hard things that came along with being bonded with someone for life, for knowing someone for so long. For having already done something similar before. But yeah, that it had been scary but Frankie had been as detailed and direct as he needed to be, levelheaded in his description of what had happened and what immediately happened afterwards.

Frankie came up to you both as he entered back into the room, a hand on both your shoulders to get your equal attention. You looked up at him with watery eyes, feeling so proud of how everyone was trying to keep it together for you but guilty at the same time since it had been something they had been dealing with for weeks now.

“That was the airline, they need someone to come in and take over a few tours for double pay. I wouldn’t normally turn them down and I will if you need me here. You’re awake now and I want to be here with you.”

“Y-you should go, if you want to, if you need to.” Scratchy words spoken with what little conviction you could muster. He was conflicted, worried about making the wrong decision.

“You need me here.” He didn’t argue so much as read the thoughts in your mind as clearly as if you had displayed for him to see. “You want me here.”

“Yes, but….money is money, Frankie. For your house, for your daughter, for everything. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I’m gonna run and get a coffee before you head out, I’ll stay the night, okay?” Taylor announced before he pressed a kiss to your temple and stood. Leaving you and Frankie truly alone for the first time since you woke up. You reached out to the man, gripping his open flannel shirt and lightly pulling him toward you. But he didn’t budge, his feet stable on the ground and his back not leaning to meet you. He wasn’t looking quite at you, but just beyond you. His eyes a little distant.

“I’m sorry.” Pulling your hands back to rest in your lap, you began to twiddle your fingers, unsure of what to do, unsure of why he was acting so weird and distant. Maybe he was just exhausted, mentally wiped out from waiting and waiting for you to wake up. Maybe…he was rethinking everything he’s once promised you…

“Hey, no, you don’t have to be sorry.” His eyes caught your own, his hands reaching out to hold your own as he kneeled down to be at your eye level. Emotions you couldn’t read swirling behind them. “I just- It’s just… you’re awake. And I’m so scared I’m going to open my eyes or wake up and you’ll still be unconscious…or passed.”

“I am awake.” You insisted, worried about this being an elaborate dream all the same. Some made up fantasy your brain concocted in its last moments and none of it was real, that you weren’t real anymore.

“I want to stay,” He pleaded with you, desperate for you to understand how hard it is for him to make the decision to leave, to heed the call of an entire week’s worth of pay in just a few days. But he had a plan and he had to stick with it, it would be for the best in the long run.

“C-can you stay tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweet girl. I promise. I just- this is important. For the both of us. I swear.”

“I believe you, Frankie. I love you.” You lifted your intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles. He repeated the words before he shrugged his jacket on and bid you goodnight. He didn’t kiss you back, instead squeezing your hands twice in farewell.

“Hermosa, I-I just-“ Frankie hung his head, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees the next evening.

He had gone home to change and get a little sleep after a hectic two days of back to back tours. A touch restful now that he knew you were awake, but still fleeting. His thoughts had been a jumble as his mind flashed your unconscious form across the backs of his eyelids. Bleeding, hyperventilating, being rushed into emergency surgery not once but three times. Of you completely still save for the slight rise and fall of your chest laid out in the hospital bed. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing or diminish anything but- just thank you.”

“You saved her, at such a great risk to yourself. But you did, you saved my little girl when I couldn’t. I have endless love and admiration for you, querida. Please, I am here for you. I will help you with whatever you need or want. And not just because of this, but…but until you don’t want that anymore. You’ve got me, sweet girl. I promise.”

The conviction in his tone was strong despite the way his words were pushed out with deep breaths, trying to keep his composure. His shoulders were quaking with the effort he was holding back another wave of tears. Too many emotions for him to handle since the second you had rushed in front of that gun aimed at his daughter.

“Come here,” You softly compelled him, trying to shuffle atop the bed. Feeling still numb below the tops of your thighs, only some control over your legs that you were trying not to dissect. Going over your charts and test results had helped a little, compartmentalizing that it was happening to you and mind working to help solve and reason the things you read as if it was a patient of your own. Work. And a lot of it was ahead of you.

Frankie shuffled up and out of his shoes, choosing to urge you forward softly so he could be the one resting against the back of the angled bed. He helped to situate you against his chest, his arms coming around you in a warm embrace, the smell of his cologne and body wash puffing up and surrounding you in a comforting way. He pressed kisses to the crown of your head, nose shuffling in your hair and making you sigh out at the human contact.

“I would do it again, in a heartbeat. Even knowing what would happen.”

“Te amo. Te tango mucho amor ti, querida.” He whispered hoarsely in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. All you could do was repeat the words to him, meaning them with everything in your very being. Bringing his hands up to rest over your heart, palms flat over your chest, you both just laid there soaking up each other’s company.

His thoughts took over as you felt your breathing even, reaching over to silence the television that had been playing quietly in the corner where it was installed high on the wall.

‘Everything was so loud, a cacophony of too sharp frequencies grating on his ears as he watched the way your body fell to the ground. The man with the gun fleeing from the scene as soon as the gun had fired, steps heavy as he ran as fast as he could. Pope taking off immediately after him, his own gun pulled from the holster attached to his belt. Permission to carry it around off the clock from one of the local military bases where he worked as a freelance advisor.

Frankie was rushing too, toward you. Toward his daughter. Toward you both. There was a pool of blood forming beneath you, having twisted yourself to prevent from falling on top of Alexia’s smaller frame. She was kneeling beside you, tears running down her cheeks as you reached up to cup her face. A pinched expression on your features and blood blooming dark low on your front. His little girl turned to him as he crashed to his knees behind her and brought her in a crushing embrace to his chest, hearing the hum of the crowd that had begun to form all around.

Shouts to call 911 and responses that more than one person was already speaking with officers, telling them of what had just happened.

She begged him to help you.

She begged him to save you.

Shouting at him in her small voice that she loved you and she knew he loved you too.

She buried her face in his chest as he leaned forward to try and get your eyes to focus on him, but you were barely able to keep them open. Lashes fluttering as your breath became labored. He was speaking, words falling from him as he fell back on years of training. Pinging questions off one after the other, getting no response from you for even one. Unresponsive in the worst way, body completely laid out before him and eyes now completely closed. You could’ve been sleeping, as you were still for a fleeting moment.

But then you started to convulse, body fighting against the bullets that had landed deep in your body. He tried to tilt your head toward him, to avoid you biting on your tongue or choking on your own breath.

A new set of hands was taking over, gently ushering him away as paramedics appeared on the scene.

He could only hold tight to his sobbing daughter as he watched the two technicians tend to you. Your chest ceasing heaving at an alarming rate, your breath almost rattling as your lungs desperately tried to keep working.

Blinking rapidly, Frankie focused his eyes on his hands curled over the controls in front of him. He was flying, the landscape of the city and surrounding greenery, the ocean all laid out before him. He was okay, you were okay. Alexia was okay.

He was at work. He was okay.

His fingers twitched at the clueless ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ of the tourists clamoring for views outside the windows. Their voices coming in clear through the headsets they wore to match his own. Completely in their own world and no problems plaguing them. Carefree.

He was at work. He wasn’t okay.

He should’ve stayed with you.

He should’ve turned down the offer.

But he had run at the first opportunity. Unable to stop the events from replaying in his mind on a loop.

Preventing him from sleeping, preventing him from being able to look at you half the time. Seeing you as you had looked right after the attack, seeing you as they rushed you onto the ambulance, seeing you as your chest went completely still once loaded up. The way your body didn’t respond to the attempts of resuscitation.

Mind torturing him by projecting you laid out in an open coffin. Copper hair resting around your lifeless frame, beautiful face covered in the wrong shade of makeup, hiding the freckles that dotted your face from him. Forever closed eyelids hiding your bright eyes from him. Black dress hiding your soft skin from his twitching fingers, itching to trace the delicate ink that decorated your skin. A masterpiece taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

Shaking his head minutely, he shoved the fake notions out of his head and pivoted the helicopter toward the coast. Following and announcing the route for the tour that the people sat behind him had requested.

He was at work and he didn’t think he’d ever be okay again. But he would try for you, because you were awake and waiting for him to return to you.

He pulled his sunglasses from where the frames were hanging from his collar and covered his reddening eyes.’

“Come on, two more steps and we’re home free.” The physical therapist was encouraging in the most grating of ways. Your normally polite and civil personality being shattered by the turn of events your life had taken. It was a lot of work now, but it had been a lot of work to initially discover that you had only minimal feeling and control over your lower half. Hips sore no matter how much medicine was added to your IV, legs numb and unresponsive more often than not.

But that didn’t stop the doctor from putting you on a physical therapy track of two appointments per week. Something you had thought was a lot right off the bat but not wanting to argue. Just as angered by the quick pace as you were determined to stick to it. It was the second week since waking up, discharge looming like a storm over the horizon, visible but not yet tangible.

There had been talk about Taylor renting a home to move into for the duration of your recovery. His son being taken care of by his co-parent back home with school having started. But Frankie had offered up his own home, a flush to his caramel skin as he did so. Not having wanted to ask you to move in under such dire circumstances. But he would be lying if he said the thought of offering you a space in his home hadn’t been on his mind lately.

Taylor had offered to split his time between Frankie’s and the apartment above the shop. An outpouring of love from the community delivered to the shop and hospital in overwhelmingly equal parts. Baskets of treats, flowers, cards, vouchers for services from all around the city and local vendors. Everything was being toted back between the two spaces that were now yours.

Lex indulging in the treats as she sat with you in the afternoons after school. Homework laid out before her atop the bed as you helped her with her math and writing. Different people picking her up while Frankie returned to work, determined to put in as many hours before he took two whole weeks off to help you transition to being home once you were discharged.

But right now, you were stood on shaking legs, arms braced heavily on the bars on either side of you as you stood between the set up of the parallel bars. Sweat dripping from your hair thrown up in a haphazard bun, skin sallow from the medication you were on a strict rotation of. You had forgone shoes, insistent that you wanted to be able to feel anything should it come back to you while practicing.

Your arms were shaking, holding up the entirety of your body weight on them, muscles straining and tattoos looking distorted with the flex of them. With a huff, you shifted your hips, right leg lifting slightly and managed to shuffle it about a foot before placing your foot down flat and tipping forward to even your weight with the new stance.

“Alright, you did it!” The nurse was a kindly young man, his arms hovering behind you as he waited for you to tap out. But you sucked in a deep breath and concentrated. Shifting your left foot ahead in the same manner before a spike of pain shot up from the arch of it as you settled it flat on the mat.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, I’m out. That’s all I got.” You wavered, arms shaking and legs beginning to tingle where you could feel them.

“That’s okay, you did good today. Four steps is progress.” The nurse helped you, gathering your form in his arms and lifting to get the pressure off your aching shoulders.

Santi was in the room when you were wheeled back, no sign of Taylor or Frankie. He informed you that they were both taking care of something for you which made you feel a little uneasy that they hadn’t told you themselves the night before that they wouldn’t be in to see you today. The nurse let the man take over with helping you get back into the bed, knowing you’d rather it be someone who you knew handling you for something a little more intimate of a move.

The man’s broad shoulders tensed as he supported your nearly dead weight, completely at a loss of energy from the days activities.

“Did they say where they were going?” You inquired, voice soft as you nuzzled your face into the man’s neck. He smelled so good and you were just in a very physically affectionate mood in wake of not getting any direct attention from Frankie in the way you were too hesitant to ask for.

“Mante, you know I would tell you if I knew, but they were like school boys, shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact. I’m sure it’s just a surprise for you, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, allowing the man to situate your aching legs as best he could and covering you up with the blankets that had been brought from your apartment. He busied himself with getting a take out bag unpacked and placing containers over the collapsable table attached to the bed for you. A cup of coffee that smelled of caramel and foamed milk pressed gently into your reaching hands. He was so diligent, the soft curls of his graying hair falling over his forehead as he focused. When everything was set up, he settled into the chair beside the bed with his own container and began to dig in.

But you were still, only a sip taken from the hot coffee handed to you.

“Santi…”

“What is it, hermosa?” He looked up from his food, utensils loaded up and a bite halfway to his lips. “I get the wrong thing?”

“No,” A small smile offered to him as your heart fluttered in your chest, unsure of how to even broach the concerns that were crashing over you in overwhelming waves. “No, this is great. Thank you.”

The man watched you, eyes scanning your face as you averted your eyes. He let out a quiet sigh and set down his utensils completely, asking you to tell him what was really on your mind.

“Frankie…he, um, he-“ You felt like a complete idiot as your face heated up, tears welling in your eyes unbidden. Foolish question, it was such a foolish thing to be worried about when the man’s words were nothing but reassuring and loving. “Why won’t he kiss me, Santi?”

“Is that what you need right now?”

You warbled out an affirmative. Feeling for all the world like a pathetic lovesick fool even surrounded by everyone who you could possibly need in your life right now, everyone working together to help you in any way possible.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

A shake of your head was all the answer you could muster up.

“He’s probably just trying to respect you, not wanting to put pressure on you to be that way with him if you’re too overwhelmed.” Santi went on to explain that his best friend had trouble with stuff like this, showing his affection and feelings in wake of traumatic events.

That you should try not to worry too much, though he knew that was easier said than done. To not take it personally, but he admitted to knowing that might be hard to do as well, everything so much at the moment. He reminded you that you could reach out to you with anything at any time. He would try his best to be there for you in any way that he could. Even jokingly offering to pepper kisses over your face and approaching you with overly pursed lips until you erupted into a laughing fit at how ridiculous he looked as he loomed closer. He sealed the conversation with a genuine press of his lips to the corner of your mouth, his hands cradling your face in their warmth before he moved back to his seat and ordered you to eat.

Across town, Taylor and Frankie had a similar conversation as a bell dinged above them where it was nestled in the doorway to a shop front. The two men determined to surprise you with something that Frankie had quietly brought up one night following your first rush into emergency surgery. An approval of sorts he had been seeking after was granted instantaneously with a smile and words of encouragement from the only other man he felt like he could share the conversation with at the moment.

“Discharge papers should be processed by end of day, looks like you’ll be spending the night in your own bed.” The doctor offered you a small smile. She had been worried about having you under her care when she found out you were a once trained medical technician, knowing how bad of a patient she was when sick herself. But you had surprised her, not talking over her or voicing opinions on what needed to be done. It had been another week, progress made in physical therapy.

You were able to walk the length of the parallel bars, slowly and with a lot of huffing and puffing. But it cleared you for outpatient treatment. The feeling in your legs was spotty, coming to you mostly in the mornings when you first woke up and at the end of the day after resting for a few hours. Something she was only mildly worried about, muscle atrophy from being unconscious for so long lingering even now.

But she had been confident that the feeling would come back completely, though she was honest when she said she was worried about numbness flaring up.

That’s how you found yourself seated in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck as he pulled into the drive of his house. He was waiting for the garage to open, in order to make it easier for you to walk straight into the laundry room instead of having to attempt to tackle the stairs to the front door. Everyone would be over tomorrow, to celebrate your release. Giving you a free night to settle in and mentally deal with the shift in environments. Lex would be at her grandparents so Frankie could focus on getting you settled.

“One moment, just…want to get something set up before I help you out, okay?” His earnest gaze widened his beautiful eyes, watching you and making sure you were alright to be left alone for a moment. He was through the door and back in the garage in a matter of minutes, a shy smile aimed at you as he helped you down and got a walked ready for you. It had a cushioned seat in the middle, in case you needed to take any breaks when trying to move about. Something you wanted to argue but didn’t have a good one against.

You felt…weird. Having to rely on him so much, but extremely grateful that he was willing to. You’d seen friendships and relationships fall apart with this much stress and similar situations. Both as a professional and a civilian, as a friend. You only hoped this wouldn’t be one of the last things he did for you before telling you it was too much, that you were too much. Love could only encompass so much before it wasn’t enough to hold two individuals together.

Melancholic and depressive thoughts abundant as you tried to come to terms with what the near future would hold for an unknowable amount of time. There was no timeline with things like this and that’s what worried you the most. What if you had flares of numbness for the rest of your life, what if he began to see you as a burden, as work he had to come back to after doing his shifts at the mechanics and his flying tours. What if all your progress was meaningless and you woke up one day with no feeling at all?

He had hushed you on more than one occasion with soft words, promises he wouldn’t do that. Promises that he was yours, that you were his, that you were in this together. But doubt crept in regardless. Even more so in the realization that he hadn’t wanted to kiss you. He was quick to dodge your advances, placing placating touches of his lips to your hair instead; of pulling you tighter to his body instead. Almost as if he was hesitant to show you affection in that way and it was hard to handle when all you wanted was that type of comfort from the man you loved so completely.

His hands were warm as he supported your weight, but he didn’t shift you down to the ground completely, instead he pulled you flush against him. Your own arms tightened around his neck, feet barely touching the ground as he ducked his head to kiss you fully for the first time since you woke up in that hospital bed. You melted into him even more, welcoming his lips against yours reverently, desperately.

The plush give of them against your own feeling like a true welcome home.

Shifting your hands up into his soft hair, you knocked the cap clear of his head as you parted your lips for him. He held you tight, not risking you putting too much weight on your own feet for even a second as he kissed you again and again, lips meeting yours in a dizzying display of his unfettered affection. Pulling at his curls, you pivoted his head to deepen another kiss, desperate for his touch and his taste. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back slightly to rest his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes slowly, watching the way his face was completely relaxed. The lines of his age smoothed out slightly as he moved to peck one last kiss to your slick lips.

He had set the table up before picking you up, at home during the day as he had received your hopeful text about the paperwork this morning. But he had run inside to pull everything from where it was keeping warm in the oven, lighting twin tapers set in the middle of the dining table. You tried to hide the squeal of surprise as he lifted you up completely, choosing to carry you bridal style over the threshold of the house and through the laundry room and into the kitchen.

“Frankie, you didn’t have to do all this.” You placed a kiss to his cheek as he carefully set you down into a chair, making sure your legs were situated how you wanted them. “I woulda been happy with a fast-food drive thru, you know that.”

“I know, but I wanted to do something special for you.” He moved over to the closest chair, settling down into it with a sigh. He looked nervous, you realized as you took in the dinner had had made before picking you up. One of your favorite dishes filling the kitchen with its tantalizing scent. The boys had snuck in food from time to time, but it had mostly been bland hospital food for a majority of the last three weeks.

Frankie cleared his throat, your eyes lifting from the items on the table and toward him.

In his hands was an emerald velvet box, open to reveal a simple gold band with a sparkling rhombus diamond in the middle.

Your lips parted, a gasp falling from them as your heart stuttered hard in your chest. Hands dropping the utensils you had just picked up clattered to the table and you stared across the table at him. At a complete loss for words as he nervously shifted in his seat and leaned closer toward you to take your hands in his own, the small box set down gently beside your plate. His hands were shaking slightly, his nerves obvious as he bared his soul to you with his next words.

“Sweet girl, I know things are going to be touch and go for a long while,” He took a deep breath, chest pulling the fabric of his shirt taut with the action. His tongue peaked between his lips, a habit you noticed when he had a lot on his mind, and he was trying to sort through everything. “But I don’t want you to worry about anything to do with us, with you and me. You have me, you have me until the moment you decide you don’t anymore. I hope you don’t ever change your mind because I’ve been gone on you since the second you aimed that glare in my direction all those months ago. Will- will you do the honor of marrying me?”

Tears welled up the longer you looked at him, his eyes so wide and open, his voice cradling you with his earnest words. All you could do was nod, voice caught in your throat.

He let out a deep exhale, pulling a giggle from you when he broke out into the widest, goofy smile you had seen on him yet. You mirrored him, lips pulling as you squeezed his hands and leaned forward to rest your forehead against them clasped together.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Fransisco. Of course.” You kissed the tops of his hands, one and then the other before you were pushing yourself up slightly, tentatively placing weight on your legs and surging forward to kiss him.

He only let you get away with one before he was standing from his seat and kneeling in front of you with the box in his hands. He carefully removed the ring from its spot nestled safely inside the velvet cushion and you held out your left hand for him. It took a second for him to place it securely on your ring finger, snug and perfect against your skin. It glittered in the candlelight and you felt a tear run down your cheek.

Frankie’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips connecting with yours as he chuckled breathlessly at having managed to pull out the surprise proposal. At your resounding yes. At the prospect of a concrete future with you.

“I love you so much, thank you for...for everything.”

“I love you too, you dork,” Your laugh sparkled against his parted lips. “I can’t believe you just thanked me for agreeing to marry you.”

“Well, you could’ve said no.”

“Not in a million years.”

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taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

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starboundpix · 5 months

Text

i. (love is) a gift

you just want a regular scarecrow. not whatever this shiny metal scarecrow-esque thing is. too bad your aunt didn't get the memo.

daycare attendant x reader ✧ 1.3k words farm au, gender neutral reader, reader is a farmer, lots of pets and animals, reader does some heavy lifting

note: this is the first writing piece I'm posting for the fnaf fandom! my roommates have been dragging me down this hole the entire semester, so here I am >.< I hope you enjoy!

When you mentioned to your aunt in passing that you desperately need a scarecrow because the birds keep ruining your newly planted garden, you didn’t think she paid that much attention to you. She must have been listening and decided to use her rich aunt privileges because here you are in your barn, ankle deep in packaging paper and hay, staring at a large wooden crate turned on its side, jaw dropping at the sight of gold and light yellow metal spilling out of the opening.

This most definitely is not the kind of scarecrow you were planning to purchase.

A brief search through the packaging paper in the crate reveals a thin booklet titled Farm Helper Manual. The cover depicts two cartoon characters: one in the same coloration as your metal scarecrow and the other in varying shades of blue and black with highlights of a soft silvery-grey. They are like the sun and moon personified and their fun poses within the stalks of corn evoke a bit of amusement that breaks up the shock that had settled in.

You start flipping through the pages, skimming the titles and headers. You just want to find out how to set the scarecrow up because you don’t think mounting it on a wooden pole in the traditional fashion would work out.

“‘Battery and operation,’” you read out loud. One of your chickens clucks at you in response, then pecks the scarecrow, beak glancing off metal with a plink. “Henrietta! Don’t dent my scarecrow.” You wave your hand at the red-feathered hen and she ruffles her wings, disgruntled, settling a few steps away. Sighing, you keep reading the page. “‘Your farm helper-’ cute term for a scarecrow, ‘-is both solar powered and battery powered. Once fully charged, it will operate for 48 hours before reaching low-power mode and has three more hours before shutting off completely.’ What, is that it?”

A quick flip through the rest of the pages doesn’t reveal anything about how to set the scarecrow up, which is extremely unhelpful.

Tossing the booklet to the side, you move to stand before the crate, hands on your hips as you eye the mass of metal enrobed in rather sad, brown, sack-like cloth. Well if the book won’t tell you much, you can figure this out yourself. You’ve been able to fix the machines and tools you need for farmwork, so you certainly can set this metal scarecrow up in your garden. You hope.

This scarecrow is so. Immensely. Heavy.

Your shoulders and arms ache terribly from the odd combination of carrying, pushing, and pulling that is necessary to get the scarecrow into your wheelbarrow. It doesn’t get any easier when you have to lift the wheelbarrow scant inches off the ground to push it to your garden, careful to avoid the fresh green and yellow sprouts of vegetables and herbs.

Now, you have the miserable task of somehow getting this hunk of metal out of the wheelbarrow and set up to charge under the sunlight.

After staring at it for a moment, you make the short trip to your house and grab a chair from the wrap-around porch, awkwardly shuffle-walking with it in your arms until you return to the wheelbarrow. You set the chair down, wiggling it until the legs sink a bit into the dirt to make sure it won’t topple over.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you tell yourself, shaking out your arms to prepare for the difficult task ahead.

First, you move the scarecrow’s legs over the edge of the wheelbarrow, each limb weighing just as much as your large Australian Shepherd who has wandered over to witness your struggles.

You pause to rub your dog’s side when he stops by your feet, his tongue out and tail wagging. “Come to laugh at me, Pluto?” He barks once, sharp and short, before leaving you to lay down on the dirt a bit away from the chair.

Smiling at him, you continue on with your task. You pull the scarecrow’s arms to rest over your shoulders, and after a moment to catch your breath, you heave your weight forward, pulling with all your might. For a moment, you think that the scarecrow will not budge. But the weight starts to get heavier and heavier on your shoulders, the wheelbarrow falls onto its side, and the entire weight of this scarecrow is pressing down on you.

You stumble forward, then find enough balance to walk the three steps needed to get to the chair. Quickly, you shrug the scarecrow’s arms off your shoulders and lean back until you hear the scraping of metal and fabric on wood and suddenly feel infinitely lighter.

Air whooshes past your lips in an exhale. Rolling your shoulders helps to ease some of the pain and tension that has gathered in your arms, but you surely will feel the ache for the next few days. You’re used to the hard labor of farm work, sure, but you rarely have to lift this much weight at once. Why on earth did they make a scarecrow this heavy?

Turning around, your eyes grow wide when you take in the present from your aunt. “Oh, wow.”

Under the bright golden sunlight of a warm spring afternoon, the scarecrow is glorious despite the rough burlap sack covering the torso. There are so many fine details, more than you’d ever expect the manufacturers to include. Individual knuckle joints are coated in a shimmery light yellow paint, the same color as what you can see of the metal torso. The arms have beautifully intricate designs of vines and flowers, twining from wrist to shoulder joint, that are the slightest bit darker than the yellow so the markings are only visible when the sunlight hits them at a certain angle. The scarecrow’s face is split in two colors—that light yellow on the left and a deeper golden hue on the right—which curves to form a crescent. You wonder what colors the eyes and mouth would be, but they’re all closed, giving the scarecrow a serene expression. To finish off the wonderful craftsmanship, a set of triangular spikes crown the scarecrow’s face, starting in that deep gold and fading away to the light shimmery yellow at the tip.

“You’re like the sun,” you murmur. “Sun the scarecrow.”

Proud of your naming skills, you take the time to properly position Sun in the chair, hoping that the battery will charge properly under the bright afternoon light. As you stand, you pat the scarecrow on the chest. “Please protect my garden for me, Sun. Don’t let the birds eat the seeds and sprouts.”

Turning away and feeling very pleased at your new addition to the garden, you call, “Pluto!” and snap your fingers twice. Your dog shakes dirt off his dappled coppery-brown fur before bounding toward you. The two of you return home, have a peaceful afternoon as you complete the necessary chores and enjoy dinner as the chill of a typical spring night starts to set in.

Late into the night, long after you have gone to bed, the scarecrow opens his eyes. They shine with a soft white light, cutting through the dark. He is deep blue and obsidian, with the night sky embedded into his arms in a soft silver that emanates the faintest light. His head, now devoid of spikes, swivels as he takes in his surroundings.

This place is unfamiliar to him—to them. It is a relief.

Knowing that there are no immediate dangers to them, he settles back into the chair. He does not know why he has been placed here in the garden, but is sure that his counterpart will find out tomorrow. For now, he will stay on guard but enter low power mode to conserve energy as they have not fully charged, and will leave his exploration of this new territory to tomorrow night.

He will keep watch until morning.

note: the plan is for this to be a little drabble or mini series whenever I feel inspired to add a new part! it's also a little side project for fun as I work on a larger piece hehe. I'd love to hear what you think about this first part! (especially because there's a second part in the works already ^u^)

series masterlist ✧ part two

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emberfrostlovesloki · 5 months

Text

Fear of Falling [Emily x Reader]

Photo credits: Center (@chanelmonamour) Left and Right (@foxy-eva)

Prompt: Emily and the non-BAU reader meet each other due to a game of truth or dare that does not turn out how either of them expected.

Pairing: Emily x female reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: Comfort/fluff/smut

Word Count: 13.3K

A/N: Hi, loves! First off this story is 18+ Minors DNI. Please respect this boundary. Content warnings are below the cut. I hope you had a fun and relaxed Christmas/Holiday season. The lovely @shqtteredcrystql1 requested a fic with a reader who had never dated a woman before and is not very experienced with intimacy. I loved this idea and jumped on it, and it grew from there. It seems I’m not able to write anything short anymore. I also included a lot of “pick your own” options, but you can just jump into the story and go back when you get to one of those options. If you like this, I might write a second part. Lastly, my requests are open. If you'd like to submit a request/idea, please see this post, CM Request Post (linked) With all that being said, I hope you all like this, it was so fun to write! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! - Love Levi -❤️

Content Warnings: Drinking [reader and Emily], unwanted physical touch, mention of workplace harassment, sex [oral, fem receiving (reader)]. If I missed any, please let me know.

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_y/c/h_ = your color hair

_y/f/c/l_ = your favorite color lipstick

_y/f/b/o/b_ = your favorite brand of bag

_y/f/s_ = your favorite scent

_y/j_ = your job

_y/h/t_ = your home town

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color

_i/s/p/h_ = insert special person here (mom/dad/guardian/friend/mentor etc.)

_y/e/w/m/b_ = your experience with men before (if you don’t have any, then say that)

_w/y/d/w/ys_= what you’ve done with yourself before

The tap on _y/n_’s shoulder surprised her. _y/n_ was so absorbed in her own thoughts that the physical contact had her whip her head to the right. _y/n_ didn’t expect to see a very pretty, keen-eyed woman who was sporting a rather bashful smile on such a pretty face. Any annoyance _y/n_ had felt at being disturbed melted away and she relaxed as little. _y/n_ said, “Sorry, you scared me. Is there something I can do for you?” The woman flushed and replied, “Don’t be sorry. I should have said something before. I just wanted to give you this.” The woman handed her a small piece of paper that was folded into fours. Before _y/n_ could even ask the tall brunette her name, the woman was walking with a determined pace back toward the group she had come in with. With incredulity, _y/n_ opened the note. There were just a few words scribbled in semi-sloppy penmanship saying, “Emily Prentiss 512 - 198 - 4459. Call me if you’re interested/open.” The simple note had _y/n_’s head whip up once more and looked at Emily’s retreating figure. _y/n_ had noticed Miss Prentiss when she walked into the bar. _y/n_ thought, “I mean, how couldn’t you notice her? She’s the prettiest person in this joint.” _y/n_ had tried to not gawk for about ten minutes until she got a text that had soured her whole mood. Had pulled her mind away from the beautiful woman sitting at a table full of friends and laughter, unlike her own. Now _y/n_’s mind was fully back on Emily. Looking at Emily’s beautiful figure, _y/n_ thought that there was no way that someone so lovely would be marginally interested in her. Just as _y/n_ felt a spark of excitement, and hope after a very long week, it was snuffed out immediately when Emily got back to her table and a chorus of laughter erupted from her friends. _y/n_ didn’t see Prentiss’s face as she sat back down, or how flushed she was. All _y/n_ could interpret from that interaction was that she had, yet again, been the butt of someone else’s joke. _y/n_’s inner voice said, “What, you’re surprised? This isn’t new, _y/n_. Get a grip. It’s just the first time this has happened with a woman.” And though it was cruel, it was true. _y/n_ had been let down by lots of men before, but she had started to question if men were something she was even interested in. Not that she had much physical experience with men to begin with, but even with that being the case, _y/n_ had started to be drawn to women more. Those types of thoughts had always lingered in her mind, even since childhood, but she had suppressed them. Thinking, “That can’t be me. I must be making it up.” But the more, _y/n_ interrogated those thoughts, the more she realized she had feelings for women were just as strong, if not stronger as those she held for men. What this all meant, _y/n_ wasn’t sure, but her encounter with Emily did have her feeling very good about her chances. The bartender was perceptive to _y/n’s disappointment and asked, “You look like you need another drink, sweetie. What can I get you?” _y/n_ looked at him with half-blurred eyes from tears and said, “The strongest, cheapest thing you’ve got. Keep ‘em coming.”

While this was all transpiring, Emily was blushing like a mad woman. The young lady who she had given her number to was pretty. There was a look about her, a sort of glow that permeated the space she sat near. If she wasn’t with Derek, Spencer, JJ, and Garcia, Emily would have happily planted herself next to the woman and basked in her glow for hours. But Prentiss, for heaven’s knows why, had agreed to play truth or dare with the members of the team. It was the moment that Derek had suggested the game that Aaron and Rossi agreed it was time for them to head out. Once their superiors were gone. Morgan smiled and said, “Alright, we draw straws to see who gets to ask the first question. Remember, you get to pick truth or dare, but once you’ve chosen, you’re locked into that choice.” Everyone nodded in agreement. Penelope had drawn the short straw which let her ask the first question. The questions and dares had started simple like asking about small embarrassing stories or minor challenges for the dares, but as the drinks flowed, the conversation had gotten more personal. There had been two rounds with Emily picking dare each time, and she wasn’t planning on stopping now. As much as she loved her friends, the team didn’t need to her about her sex life or dating woes. Revealing any of those details would only expose how lonely she had been for the last four months. So when it came down to her turn again, with JJ asking the question, Emily happily said, “Dare.” JJ had been expecting this and planned her dare well, saying, “Give your phone number to the most attractive person in this bar right now.” Emily’s eyes widened at the challenge. It was the best one yet. Derek doing push-ups in the corner was not nearly as interesting as making Emily pick the most attractive person in a bar. Emily shot JJ a small look. Just last week she and the empathetic media liaison had been talking about dating and JJ’s upcoming engagement party. Emily had revealed to JJ that she hadn’t even tried seeing anyone for months. That she’d slightly given up on the dating scene. JJ’s dare was a soft push to try again. The glow from the woman at the bar had drawn Emily’s attention again, and Prentiss pulled out a small notepad, tore out a page, and wrote a quick message. Emily had never had success with giving her number to people, but heck, she didn’t see how it could hurt now. The interaction with the stranger was quick, but whoever she had given her number to, was so beautiful with her _y/c/h_ and _y/f/c_ lipstick. Even though it was less than a minute-long interaction, Emily felt like some of the stranger's warmth had rubbed off on her. As Emily made it back to the table, the group cheered her on. Little did they know, their claps and laughter were having such a negative effect on the woman sitting at the bar and looking at Emily’s turned back with a deep sense of longing.

A half-hour later, the BAU members had sobered up considerably and planned on heading out. As they all got out of their chairs, Derek looked over to the bar and said to Emily, “You might want to reconsider accepting messages for that girl you gave your number to.” Prentiss quirked an eyebrow in confusion. Before she could ask, Derek took her shoulder and turned her one-eighty degrees to face the bar. It took a microsecond for Emily to see the aforementioned woman at the bar laughing at some guy's joke. As Emily looked closer, the man had his large splotchy hand on the small of the woman’s back. Worse still the guy started slipping his hand under the back of the woman’s shirt. That was enough for Emily to want to step in. Something, be it intuition or personal experience, told Prentiss that if this lovely woman was sober, she’d have told the guy invading her privacy off minutes ago. As Emily stepped forward, Garcia asked, “Do you want me to wait for you?” Prentiss nodded her head no and said, “I’ll take an Uber back. Thanks for picking me up, Penelope.” Garcia smiled and said, “Of course baby. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Emily nodded and turned, but Penelope stopped her once more by saying, “And Emily, don’t bite his head off. I don’t think Hotch would appreciate that.” Prentiss gave her friend a small, reassuring smile before turning on her heel and moving quickly to the bar.

Once Emily had reached the bar, she stepped between the man and the woman. Before the man could protest, Emily said, “Hey sis. Sorry, I lost you. Collin talked my ear off at the restaurant. You should have called me and told me you moved to a bar. I would have joined you a half-hour ago.” Emily mentally crossed every part of her body that could be crossed, and some parts that couldn’t, that her ploy would work on the man breathing heavily behind her. There was a tense minute before the man slipped away and back to the upstairs section of the bar. When the creep had gone, the woman turned her head toward Emily. Her cheeks were severely flushed and the woman said, “Good job, you had your laugh and white knighted. You can leave me alone in my misery now.” Emily’s brow furrowed a bit at the comment. She got the “White Knight” bit; she had swooped in like some kind of savior, but Prentiss didn’t like the way that guy had been touching the inebriated woman in front of her. But the bit that she didn’t understand was the laughing bit. Emily hadn’t laughed at the woman. The added comment about misery had Prentiss look at the woman more closely. _y/n_ kept Emily’s gaze. She might be upset, but that didn’t mean she was going to miss out on looking at someone as radiant as Emily. Even if she’d made fun of her, Emily was still brilliant. _y/n_ reasoned, “When am I going to get to see someone so pretty again? Might as well enjoy it.” The fact that _y/n_ was drunk was also helping.

While the yet unnamed woman looked at Emily, the profiler took a closer look at her face. It seemed the cheerful facade from a few minutes earlier had slid off like bad veneers. The woman did look miserable. As Emily looked at her, she could see the apathy in the woman’s eyes. The dark circles from lack of sleep or stress. Prentiss asked, “Why did you say I was laughing at you? Is that what’s making you so sad?” Emily felt an odd desire to comfort the woman in front of her. To understand where the look of resigned desperation was coming from. _y/n_ sniffled and said, “Well you know. Go up to someone, get their hopes up, make them think that they’re something, and then go back to the table with your friends and have a big old laugh about it. Like ‘Hahaha Good one, Emily, I bet she bought that. Like I’d touch that with a ten-foot pole.’” _y/n_ was crying now, feeling re-humiliated.

As Emily heard the story of JJ’s dare from the woman’s perspective, her face fell. She hadn’t meant her giving her number to come off as some kind of cruel prank, and Emily said, “Hey, …. Um, what’s your name?” _y/n_ murmured, “_y/n_,” into a napkin, as she wiped at her nose which was now unbecomingly dripping due to the crying. Emily placed a hand on _y/n_’s shoulder and said, “_y/n_. I am so, so sorry if me and my friends' actions felt like we were mocking you. Treating you like a game.” _y/n_ looked up at Emily, and with a sharpness in her voice, she said, “Well what was it then? Because it certainly felt like one to me.” Emily wondered how to phrase her next response. She felt horrible for making _y/n_ feel this way. In all honestly, Prentiss thought about lying and saying that her friends had just made a joke when she got back to the table, and everyone had laughed at the right time. _y/n_ was drunk enough that she wouldn’t remember the lie in the morning. But Emily didn’t believe in starting relationships, even friendships based on a lie. Emily took a deep breath and said, “Let me tell you what happened, please?” _y/n_ nodded that she was listening, even as her face still burned in shame.

Emily swallowed once before saying, “My friends and I were pretty tipsy already. We decided to play truth or dare.” This had _y/n_ freeze, because it fucking confirmed that it had been a game. Emily continued anyway. “I’d been going on all night about being lonely and crap and then you walked in, and I kind of stopped talking. I was just captivated by you.” Prentiss remembered how Spencer had had to tap her to get her attention away from _y/n_. Derek had teased her, “Someone caught your eye, Em?” To which she had blushed furiously. Derek then said, “You should give her your number you know.” That was where JJ had gotten the idea for her next dare from. Emily blinked and said, “Well my friends had seen how I’d reacted to your very presence, and my friend dared me to give my number to the the most attractive person in the room. And that was you. I swear that my friends didn’t mean it as a joke. I didn’t mean it as a joke. You are the most pretty person in his building, on the block, in the whole city, I swear.” _y/n_ looked up at Emily, eyes, still red, and asked, “Then why did they laugh when you got back?” As _y/n_ reflected, given the new context, perhaps she had been overthinking again. But that didn’t explain the laughter.

Prentiss sighed and said, “I have a bit of a tough guy reputation at work. It’s unusual for me to be so nervous about something. That’s why they laughed.” A hint of understanding came to _y/n_’s eyes and she said, “Why would you be interested in me? I’m nobody special.” Emily patted _y/n_’s hand and replied, “_y/n_, I know I don’t know you at all, but you’re certainly not a nobody. I think you’re far from nobody.” _y/n_ blinked back fresh tears and said, “Well you’re the first person to see me like that in a long time. I’m sorry I’m so emotional. This is so embarrassing. I think I’ll go home.” _y/n_ really felt like getting under her heavy covers and sleeping for two months, hoping to wake up and have her whole life changed, and particularly to forget tonight.

Emily nodded, getting out of her chair to make room for _y/n_. Prentiss wasn’t sure _y/n_ had really sobered up enough to drive or even call a cab, so she was going to ensure that _y/n_ got back home, wherever that was, safe. Once _y/n_’s feet hit the ground, she listed forward. Emily could immediately tell that _y/n_ would need help getting home and said, “_y/n_, let me call you an Uber or a Lyft. You shouldn’t be trying to drive after, well, after tonight I think.” _y/n_ brushed Prentiss off and said, “I just live two blocks down. I didn’t drive here. I’ll be fine.” The false cheeriness was back and this didn’t make Emily feel any better. The agent replied, “Well, it’s good to hear that you’re not driving, but can I walk you back to your place? Just to your front door.” Emily knew this wasn’t like her, but she wouldn’t just let _y/n_ walk out of the bar while she was still pretty sloshed. Furthermore, Emily still felt bad about the dare. The unintended impact it had had on _y/n_ seemed to weigh Prentiss down. After a moment, _y/n_ nodded and slurred, “Yeah, sure.” Emily let out a small breath of relief. The pair moved out of the bar, and _y/n_ led the way on unshakey feet. Emily ended up having to keep _y/n_ up a few times, as they walked down the two blocks. As _y/n_ took a left at a red light, the luxury houses came into view. Prentiss knew the area was rich, but not that rich. Emily looked over at _y/n_ and gently, trying to be sensitive, asked “Are you sure this is where you live?” _y/_ scoffed and said, “Listen, I’m no Daisy Buchannan, alright. One of the older ladies who lives in the neighborhood had a mother-in-law suite that she never uses. She rents it out. I was lucky enough to find the advertisement before anyone else. I don’t think she understands inflation. I barely pay anything for it. I do help her with her yard when she asks me to make up for it. I get lucky because I could never afford it at full price.” After that, there was a soft silence as they walked one more block. Emily assumed the drinks had _y/n_ speaking so candidly. It wasn’t something Prentiss would do with a stranger. Even a hot one. At the end of the street _y/n_ stopped at a little gate that had an old-looking lock on the side. Emily watched as _y/n_ fished through her bag and produced a set of keys that jingled like a bell as _y/n_ attempted to find the right one. When _y/n_ had, she shakily put it in the lock, but her fingers trembled and she dropped the keys into a small dirty puddle on the red brick sidewalk. This happened once more before Emily stepped in and unlocked the gate for _y/n_. Prentiss put her hand on the small of _y/n_’s back and led her over the uneven stone path that went to a very small house that was in the shadow of a huge art deco style mansion. Suddenly the reference to The Great Gatsby made sense. _y/n_ didn’t even try for the two locks on her door. Instead, she found the right key and handed it to Emily to unlock. The brunette easily opened the door and helped _y/n_ to the couch in the space. She turned on the lamp on a small table. With the cozy space illuminated by the soft lamplight, Emily moved back to the couch and asked, “Do you have everything? Your ID, wallet, cell phone, or anything else important?” _y/n_ pulled her _y/f/b/o/b_ into her lap and rifled through it again. When _y/n_ pulled out all of the things Emily had said, there was awkward silence which Emily broke by saying, “I’m gonna head out now. I’m sorry again for tonight.” _y/n_ nodded and watched as the tall woman quickly left the room like this was the most normal thing that had happened to her this week. _y/n_ sighed in resignation and just sat for a few minutes once Prentiss was gone.

When _y/n_ had composed herself, she moved to her bedroom, stripped, and moved to the bathroom to take a hot shower. As _y/n_ stepped under the shower head and lathered _y/f/s_ed soap over her body, she reflected on how the night had gone. Embarrassingly. Almost as embarrassing as when she’d been invited to a fraternity dance and then found out the day that her date had asked someone else behind her back. It had been humiliating. This night had been the same, except on this occasion, it had been her fault as she had partially misinterpreted the situation. Not that the situation was totally easy to understand, but still, it was awkward. When _y/n_ had taken off her tweed pants, Emiy’s phone number fell out of the pocket. _y/n_ had considered crumpling it up and throwing it in the trash, but her heart had told her to keep it in case she ever got the nerve to text Emily. Given how the night had gone, she doubted it would ever happen. But despite her negative attitude, _y/n_ folded the phone number in two and put it in the top drawer of her bedside table. As _y/n_ finished her shower, she hoped she would wake up feeling better or having forgotten the whole evening. Once the shower was over, _y/n_ slipped into her pajamas, and slumped onto the bed and under the covers. She turned off the light and quickly fell asleep.

Unfortunately, in the morning, neither of her wishes had come true. Her head pounded from a hangover, and _y/n_ remembered the whole fiasco with Emily too. _y/n_ groaned and got up. She stumbled to the bathroom and drowned a glass of tap water and two aspirin. She’d overslept and she would need to rush to get to work on time. _y/n_ just barely made it to _y/j_. This had been happening more and more often recently. At the beginning of the year, _y/n_ had finally landed a job that she was excited about. But as it turned out with most things that seemed too good to be true, the job had ended up being more of a pain. There was a high turnover rate, and _y/n_ ended up taking on projects and work that weren’t under her purview. Because of this, her performance plummeted due to not being trained on her new tasks. And another problem had come up as well. Her manager, who had seemed cool and understanding in her three interviews had turned out to be more of a bother than a help. He had started making small comments about her appearance, and then he’d started offering to take her out to dinner or drinks, and he’d become more and more insistent about getting to know her better outside of work hours. Things hadn’t escalated too far. That was until the previous day. The older man had called her into a private meeting and threatened to cut her pay if her performance didn’t improve. And he’d personally told her he would train her on the things that she didn’t know, but only if she’d go with him to drinks that weekend. _y/n_ had wrestled all day with whether to contact HR about the man’s unwanted advances. Now that things had escalated to threats it seemed justified. However, she was so new to the job, and HR and everyone seemed to love her boss. That had led to a personal crisis, thus the night of drinking at the bar. As _y/n_ reflected, she steeled herself for the day and just decided for the moment to deal with it. To do her job, ignore everything and everyone, and solely work. _y/n_’s bosses harassment and threats, along with _y/n_’s avoidant behavior went on for another week. The man remained relentless. That afternoon he had even touched _y/n_. His hand trailed it down to her lower back. The sensation made _y/n_ want to scream. The tension built for the week and _y/n_ let everything in her personal life fall apart, including her house.

That Friday she had a panic attack in the bathroom and decided enough was enough. She went to HR and told them about what had been happening. About her discomfort and the growing threats. _y/n_nwas eternally grateful to be taken seriously and the personnel team took her statement and promised to look into the matter discreetly. When _y/n_ got home that day, she decided it was finally time to clear up the mess she’d left behind. It took a good four hours with her bedroom being the last thing she decluttered, swept, and put back together. The top drawer of her nightstand had accumulated lots of junk and receipts, and _y/n_ quickly moved to throw them in the small trashcan by her bed. However, a folded slip of paper made it out of her hands and fluttered to the floor. _y/n_ sighed as she threw away the rubbish and bent down to grab the last piece of trash to get rid of it. _y/n_ didn’t recognize it and unfolded it. It was Emily’s note from a few weeks back. The instant _y/n_ saw the neat handwriting, Emily’s bright face flashed into her vision. Prentiss’s dark eyes and the way she spoke with a confidence _y/n_ lacked. The beautiful woman’s image seemed burned into _y/n_’s mind. Of course, she remembered the embarrassing parts of the evening as well, but something about Emily Prentiss had engrained itself in _y/n_’s head. _y/n_ held the paper in her palm and sighed. She moved to the kitchen and started cooking a simple meal. She sipped on a glass of wine and pondered if it was too late to text the woman back. _y/n_ realized that she’d never get Emily out of her mind unless she did something about it. _y/n_ pulled up her phone. She started a new message and input Emily’s number. _y/n_ tapped the counter before finally texting:

Hey, Emily. This is _y/n_ from that bar on 6th Street. I’m really sorry if I made the end of your evening awkward or if you had other plans. You were nice to me, and I want to thank you for that. I hope you're having a good start to your weekend. - _y/n_.

With that, _y/n_ hit the send button and then promptly moved her phone into her bedroom, not wanting to see if she got a response. Instead, she moved back to the kitchen, stirred her two pans with a wooden spatula, and metaphorically patted herself on the back. She’d done a brave thing, which for _y/n_ was not something that came easy to her. In fact, over the last few weeks, she’d been finding herself doing more and more brave things, and this was the latest of them. _y/n_ didn’t particularly like change, confrontation, or anything that would have made her stand out in any way. _y/n_ hadn’t always felt good about herself, and adding a spotlight to her actions was the last thing she wanted. But moving to D.C. from _y/h/t_ had been a change she had hoped would push her out of her comfort zone. It might have taken about eleven months, but _y/n_ was finally beginning to think, that maybe, it was happening. After dinner and some light reading, _y/n_ moved to her room. It was a bit early for her to go to bed, but she felt the call of the mattress. _y/n_ slipped into her pajamas and moved under the covers. Before going to bed, _y/n_ grabbed her phone to set an alarm. She’d sleep in, but she didn’t want to waste the whole next day in bed. As her phone blinked on. There was a text from a number she didn’t know. With her heart skipping a beat, _y/n_ unlocked her phone and opened her messages. There was a simple reply to her previous text to Emily. It read: “Hey, _y/n_. It’s good to hear from you. Unfortunately, work has me busy and out of town, but I hope you’re doing well and feeling okay. Keep your head up. Emily.” Although the text was short and simple and didn’t quite open the dialog for further conversation, that hadn’t exactly been _y/n_’s goal. The goal was doing the hard thing, and it had been done and there had been a nice reply as a cherry on top. So, with that, _y/n_ set her alarms and went to sleep contented.

Emily looked down at the hard ice under her. It was glossy. So glossy that she could see her reflection almost. The sound of the other skaters' laughter and skates against the ice made her sigh. The ice had just been smoothed by the Zamboni. Emily had known it was a bad idea to go out on the ice when it was so slick. However, she had waited a whole half-hour for Benette from Hinge to show up. He had seemed nice, He had blue eyes and a kind smile. One that seemed normal enough to be someone real and not a catfish. They had texted for two weeks and spoken on the phone once before he’d offered to take her on a date to the ice skating rink. The idea had been a new one to her. Most of the people who she went out with on-first-but-never-second-dates, took her to bars or dinner. The prospect of not drinking or eating had been refreshing, and Benette had been original, which put him on the plus side of things. However, the fact that he was so late began to irk Prentiss. When the half-hour mark came and went, Emily gave up on the man in private equity, rented her skates herself, and ventured out on the ice. She was already here, why not take a lap or two? She had only made it halfway around the rink before she ate it. The ice against her legs reminded Emily that she wasn’t sixteen anymore. She was sure there would be a bruise on her hips in the morning. And when she got to work on Monday, Derek would ask why she was limping and she’d have to explain. Then Morgan would laugh and gently tease her about being a geriatric, and by that point, she would have forgotten how her second date in a row had stood her up. Emily rested her hand on the frozen water before getting ready to get up onto unstable, cold, wet, legs. Before she had a chance, a skater, who had been moving quite quickly over the ice stopped neatly in front of her. There was a pair of white skates and _y/f/c_ leg warmers.

After a second, Emily looked up to see who exactly was offering her a hand up. From the attire, she highly doubted it was Benette unless he had a very big secret to tell her. But when Emily’s eyes settled on the person in front of her, she recognized the face. It took a second before she realized she knew that face. At this point, Emily was back on her feet thanks to the hand up, and only then did she say, “Hey _y/n_. Fancy seeing you here.” At this point, she was blushing and slightly embarrassed. _y/n_ smiled at her and said, “Hey, Emily. I never really expected to see you again. Are you alright? That looked like a nasty fall.” _y/n_’s comment only had Prentiss blush further, and she said, “Oh, well, you know, I’ll probably be sore for a week, but nothing’s broken.” _y/n_ noticed the flush on Prentiss’s face. _y/n_ didn’t take her hands off of Emily. Now it was _y/n_’s turn to worry that Emily might fall. Eventually, their hands grew warm, and they dropped them. _y/n_ looked over at Prentiss and asked, “Are you waiting for someone? I’ve been here for about an hour, and well, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been here for a while. Sorry If I’m being nosy.” Emily sighed and said, “I was waiting for someone, but I don’t think they’re coming. That’s pretty depressing, isn’t it.” _y/n_ tipped her head and said, “I’m sorry. And sorry that you had to be out of town for work during the holidays. That always reeks.” Emily nodded. The case had been bad. Plus being stood up was never fun, but it was nice to see _y/n_ again. Nice to know that _y/n_ had made it past their shared night in the bar and their brief text exchange. Emily had forgotten how pretty _y/n_ was, but being in front of her again, she felt the unfamiliar pull toward _y/n__y/n_ pushed off the rink wall and moved to Emily’s side. Emily attempted to move forward, but she very shortly after almost fell again. Because of this fact, _y/n_ had stayed close by. As Emily nearly fell, _y/n_ skated in front of her and took her hands firmly. Steadying her. Emily watched with some surprise as _y/n_ skated backward with ease as _y/n_ kept her steady. After a minute of moving along the wall, _y/n_ asked, “Would you like me to let you go?” Prentiss considered it for a second and then said, “I’d rather you didn’t. If you don’t mind.” _y/n_ smiled and said, “I don’t mind.” Emily nodded.

There was a short silence before Emily said, “So, um, are you feeling better since the last time I saw you?” _y/n_ flushed thinking of the last time they’d seen each other, but _y/n_ had grown since then, and replied, “I have actually. Well, at least I haven’t gotten so slooshed that I can’t tell when a pretty woman tells me that I’m the pretty one and that I matter for some inexplicable reason.” The bluntness with which _y/n_ made the statement had Emily chuckle and she said, “Well it’s true. You are pretty, and you do matter.” _y/n_ felt a flush bloom over her face, and to divert the attention from her, _y/n_ asked, “So, what asshole decided to stand you up? I might just give them a kick in the teeth.” Where this confidence was coming from, _y/n_ couldn’t say, but the small shine in Emily’s eyes made it all worth it. Prentiss sighed and replied, “Hinge. I should learn that my luck with dating apps is cursed. I’ve been stood up on four dates from Tinder and Bumble in the last three months. Talk about a track record. Also, you’re very good at staking backward. If that was me, I’d be on my ass already.” _y/n_ chuckled and said, “Well they’re all idiots for standing you up. And the ice skating thing, that was more of my _i/s/p/h_’s idea. You know, every kid needs a hobby, and they stuck me in skating. It wasn’t a very practical choice on their end. It’s not like I’m going to the Olympics or anything.” Emily smiled and replied, “Well, you say that, but it’s proving a very practical skill to me right now. And it’s gotta look cool if nothing else. My mother had me in language schools since I was five and then after all that, she had me practicing piano for three hours a day.” _y/n_’s eyes grew wider at the revelation. Emily Prentiss didn’t exactly seem like the type of person to just open up, but she had said something about her childhood, and perhaps Emily was simply reciprocating. After a beat, _y/n_ replied, “That sounds, lonely. Do you find either the languages or music skills still helpful to you?” Emily thought back to her first case with the BAU and how her Egyptian had helped the team. How it had bought her points with Gideon and Hotch. Of course, both men saw her for more than that after she’d become a permanent fixture on the team. Sometimes Emily wished she’d had more time with Agent Gideon. She felt like they could have been friends, but, the past was the past, and she let out a sigh before saying, “The languages come in handy when something comes up at work. However almost everyone in my department is multilingual, and if they’re not, well, I’ll just say that they make up for it with an abundance of talents in other areas. As for the piano lessons. Like most little girls and boys, I hated the practice. I gave it up in high school, and I regret that now. I have a keyboard at my place and if I ever find the time, I tinker, but not much more than that.” By the time Emily had finished talking, the pair had made it back to the opening of the rink. Prentiss had hardly noticed as she looked into _y/n_’s eyes and talked like they were friends. _y/n_ had made it easy to glide along the ice unafraid of falling or bumping into people, or worse, taking down some kid with her as she fell. _y/n_ stopped just beyond the opening, giving Emily a prime place to step out. However, Emily was hesitant to let go for a second, either from fear of falling or something else, she couldn’t say.

_y/n_ looked at Emily and asked, “Would you like to go around another time?” It was the only reason _y/n_ could think of why Emily would still be holding her hands. Prentiss seemed to snap too, and replied, “Oh, no. thank you.” _y/n_’s face fell a little, But Emily was still looking into her countenance, and she was thinking that she did want to spend more time with _y/n_. Talking with her had been so calming. So easy. Like they were good friends who just hadn’t met yet. It took another second before Emily realized that she hadn’t shared the second part of her sentence aloud, and she blushed madly as she said, “But I’d like to hang out, maybe. Just someplace where I’m less likely to break a wrist or hip. There’s a cute coffee shop down the street if you’re down?” The words came out in a jumble, and Prentiss wondered why she was suddenly so bad at talking to women. Why did every attempt at flirting or a friendship with _y/n_ come off as vaguely insulting? She hadn’t dated a woman in a while, but Emily wasn’t that out of practice. It’s not like she’d been dating men in the recess. All Prentiss could do was wait and see how _y/n_ responded to yet another botched attempt at flirtation. After a second, _y/n_’s face broke out into a soft smile and said, “Yeah. I’d like that.” Emily beamed, and once she was off the ice, Emily helped _y/n_ step off the ice even though she clearly didn’t need her help. Emily asked, “Did you get a locker for your things?” _y/n_nodded and said, “Yes, right over there.” _y/n_ pointed to a row of lockers on the far side of the space. Emily’s purse and black boots were in a locker on the other side of _y/n_’s and they both moved in that direction chatting about the weather over the last week. A conversation that was easy to cut off when they both got to a place where they needed to split up for a second. Emily moved close to her locker and sat on the wooden benches taking off her skates. Emily moved to her locker and slipped the finicky key into her locker’s lock. She grabbed her shoes and zipped them up. The last thing she needed to do was sling her handbag over her shoulder, and then she’d go over to _y/n_ and they’d walk over to the coffee shop together. Just as Emily was walking over to _y/n_. She looked at the ground, trying to avoid the numerous puddles that spotted the ground. She didn’t want to get her leather Hermes shoes wet. However, the sound of _y/n_ shouting, “Hey, hey! Let go of it,” and then the sound of a sharp hand on flesh snapped Emily’s eyes up. Prentiss watched as the man ripped the purse from _y/n_’s hands, as _y/n_ moved her hands to her face which had just been hit. The fact that some punk had tried to and was now running away with _y/n_’s bag was bad, but the fact that the whippersnapper had hit _y/n_ had Emily running after him with a determination she would on a case. She flew past _y/n_ and tossed her purse over to the half-stunned woman to allow her to run unencumbered.

Emily’s footsteps pounded on the half-frozen ground. She deftly avoided the slick patches of ice that peppered the sidewalks and street. The vandal was not so lucky and took a few falls which slowed him down. The young man did make it past the crosswalk just before the warning hand popped up. The man had realized he was being followed and hoped to put some space between himself and the agent hot on his heels. Unfortunately for the thief, Emily was undeterred by the flashing orange hand and oncoming car. She wasn’t letting this punk get away with _y/n_’s things, or the fact that he had hit _y/n_ in an attempt to do so. Prentiss moved into the two-lane street and dodged a small Kia that honked at her furiously to get out of the way. She didn’t pay attention to the angry driver, as she made up some distance with the man. Emily felt her breath coming fast inhalations and exhilations as the man quickly, dangerously rounded a sharp corner in an alley full of trash and gunk. Prentiss was close enough to tackle the man, so she did. They both went down with a smack on the pavement, but the man had it worse as he went face-first into the street while Emily’s face and chest were padded by his legs. The man groaned, “Goddamn it. Where do you get off taking a guy down like that? Who the fuck are you anyway, J.I. Jane?” Emily smirked and said, “Who I am doesn’t matter. Maybe don’t try stealing shit in the open. Better yet, don’t try stealing anything at all.” Emily hauled the man up and toward a still police car that she had passed in her foot chase. Prentiss tapped on the window and flashed her badge. Thankfully didn’t take long for the officer to her statement and number for a follow-up call if he had more questions. _y/n_ watched as about twenty minutes later Emily came back into view. Her cream-colored pants looked dirty, like she’d rolled in some mud, but the smile on her face, as she held up _y/n_’s purse in triumph, had _y/n_ smiling as well. When Prentiss, who seemed to be out of breath, reached _y/n_ they both asked in unison, “Are you okay?” Emily repeated the question first and said, “Did that guy hurt you? Is your face alright?” _y/n_ nodded yes and said, “It’s fine, just a split lip is all. Nothing to write home about.” Even as _y/n_ said this, Prentiss looked more closely at _y/n_’s face, softly running her thumb over her mouth. _y/n_ cringed ever so slightly and let out a breath, as Emily’s warm hand brushed over her face, and the rush of warmth she felt as the brunette checked over her for any damage was something she hadn’t felt in months. The sensation was not unwelcome. When Prentiss had composed herself, _y/n_ gently brushed over her pants, trying to clean them a little, and see if Emily was hurt too. But the tall woman did not react. She just let _y/n_ fawn over her for a few minutes before Emily took _y/n_’s hands in hers saying, “I’m alright _y/n_, really. I just need to get these pants clean once I get home.” _y/n_ nodded, no longer in a daze from the events, but now by the woman in front of her. _y/n_ looked at her and asked, “How did you just do that, exactly? Are you often running down random pickpockets?” Prentiss chuckled and said, “Maybe. How about we talk about it over coffee? We seem to be continually interrupted by stuff, but I’m not going to let this stop us. Not even these dirty pants.” _y/n_ nodded and they exchanged purses and walked the short way to the quaint coffee shop named Doubles. Emily got them a seat and _y/n_ took her order of a flat white with vanilla. _y/n_ insisted on paying for her drink because she’d saved her purse. At the counter _y/n_ got her favorite winter drink and Emily’s. The line was shockingly short, and _y/n_ had their beverages in a few moments.

They sat in relative silence as they blew on their drinks and then sipped them with trepidation and fear that their mouths would be burned. As the drinks cooled, _y/n_ looked at Emily and asked, “What is it you do exactly? You seem so capable. Like you could do anything in the world.” Prentiss hesitated. She wasn’t one to disclose her job easily, but when she looked at _y/n_, she felt the openness she had when they were on the rink, like old friends. And Emily said, “I work for the FBI.” _y/n_ seemed surprised and she said, “And I’m guessing it’s not the tax fraud department?” Prentiss laughed low, and replied, “Yeah, not tax fraud, that’s for sure.” _y/n_ thought for a second and asked, “When you said you were out of town for work, was that FBI-related?” Emily nodded and said, “Yeah it was. We kind of just get called in and we go where we’re needed.” _y/n_ reflected on what Emily had said about her childhood. It seemed like a controlled childhood, and now a demanding job, _y/n_ had to ask, “Do you enjoy it? Your work?” There was a tense pause before Prentiss sighed and said, “I do. I know I’m making a difference, in my way. Both to my team and to society. But we all have our regrets about work, don’t we?” _y/n_ nodded in agreement.

Her recent work affairs had tainted her image of the company as HR had contacted her manager and he’d made a big stink about the whole affair. He’d blamed _y/n_ for coming onto him and not the other way around. HR had taken her side of things in the end. There had been too much evidence to prove anything that _y/n_’s boss had said, but whatever the case was, it was still uncomfortable. Emily saw _y/n_ retreat into herself and asked, “What is it you do, _y/n_?” _y/n_ snapped out of her head and said, “Oh. Nothing important. Just _y/j. Nothing like what you do, I assure you.” Prentiss noticed her uncertainty, the way _y/n_ spoke down about herself again and said, “_y/n_. Your job isn’t any more or less important than mine. We all have to work in this economy unless you're an heiress or something. But as long as it doesn’t drive you crazy and you get paid then I think that’s enough.” There was a pause and Emily asked, “Do you enjoy it?” She couldn’t be sure, as _y/n_’s face shifted into an uncomfortable look. Prentiss quickly tacked on, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” _y/n_ sighed and replied, “I don’t mind talking about it. I’m just disappointed. I moved here a few months ago for this new job, and my boss turned out to be a real ass. It was a whole ordeal last month and the start of this month. I just lost the joy I had for the company I guess.” Emily frowned and said, “That sounds disappointing. I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it more?” Emily realized that she was dancing around a potentially sensitive subject and wished she’d kept her mouth shut. _y/n_ shifted in her seat a bit and said, “It’s getting better actually. I’ve been trying to stand up for myself a bit more. To be honest I’ve been a bit of a doormat most of my life and I’m sick of it. I’m not quite at tackling a guy that steals my purse yet. I think that’s when you graduate from beginner-level non-doormat status. That’s why I’m lucky to have someone like you around. Even if it is serendipitously. But, maybe there are nicer things we can talk about?”

Emily smiled and nodded, acknowledging how open _y/n_ had been with her. However, she realized that having a lighter conversation would be more enjoyable. And they’d get to know each other better that way. So, for the next hour and a half, they talked about everyday things. Like the worst movie they’d seen that year, or the best album they’d listened to. What had made them laugh so hard that they’d cried. And by the end of the conversation that flowed with ease, as Emily asked _y/n_ if the bar on 6th street was her favorite, or if she just went there out of convenience because it was so close to her house, when Prentiss held out her hand on the table in front of her, and _y/n_ took it. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. _y/n_ and Emily finished their conversation and _y/n_ looked at the woman in front of her. She wasn’t sure what was going on. If this was flirting or friendship or something else entirely, but as things seemed to be wrapping down, _y/n_ didn’t want it to end. So _y/n_ asked, “Emily, would you want to do this again sometime? Like, sometime soon? I don’t know if you can tell or not, but I don’t have many friends, and talking to you, well talking to you is so easy.” Prentiss squeezed _y/n_’s hand slightly and replied, “Yes. I’d like that. Is there a day in the next two weeks that works well for you?” Emily was very happy that _y/n_ had asked, because if _y/n_ hadn’t, then she would have had to, and that somehow felt like pressing her luck. But _y/n_ had asked, and they agreed on a day, and then Emily explained how, due to her work schedule, she had to be very flexible with plans. And if she should have to take a rain check on their next meeting, that it had nothing to do with _y/n_ and everything to do with work. And, although if a statement like that had come from anyone else but the enigmatic Emily, she would have thought they were canceling on her already. But with Prentiss _y/n_ believed her. Or at least she wanted to believe her, and _y/n_ hadn’t had that kind of hope in anyone in a long, long time. So _y/n_ chose to believe Emily and see where it went from here. _y/n_ and Emily said their goodbyes until the next time, and Prentiss gave y/n_’s arm an affectionate rub just before she hopped into that taxi that would whisk her away like a sprite in the wind.

Both Emily and _y/n_ thought about the other on and off between the next time they would meet. To _y/n_ it all felt new. As she pondered their first and second meeting, _y/n_ contemplated how her stomach fluttered in a way it had in high school, but not since then. _y/n_ wondered if it was love, lust, or something secret thing that she’d not learned about yet that happened when one liked women. She also wondered if it was too fast to be falling head over heels for someone she barely knew. It felt like Twilight but make it homoerotic. _y/n_ wished she was more sure of herself. Wished she had the confidence to just be honest with herself. But for now, she was just happy to be seeing Emily again. And if things went well, which she hoped they would, then she would ask the most beautiful women she’d ever laid eyes on, what exactly it was that they were trying to be.

Even just as a friend, Emily Prentiss seemed like a good person to have on one’s team. Emily, on the other hand, was trying to figure out how a stranger had gotten her to drop her walls with no prompting, prodding, or intrusive questions at all. Prentiss’s mother had instilled in her, from an early age, a ‘personal none-disclosure policy, no matter what the personal cost.’ And the astute agent stuck to it for the most part. But _y/n_ had managed to weave her way past her barriers so easily, without even trying. And, as Emily thought about it, she realized that _y/n_’s not trying had been the key. If anything, she had been the one that had pressed _y/n_ for information, and _y/n_ had answered honestly. At least all of her tells had indicated honesty. So many of her previous lovers and would-be lovers had pressed and pressed, and pressed, like those accusing witches in Salem. But _y/n_ hadn’t done that. There was just a kindness to _y/n_ that seemed to permeate the air she inhabited. _y/n_ seemed to have a genuine desire to know her, but in a gentle way that didn’t make her feel like a thing being examined under a microscope. Her internal and external flaws were being picked apart one by one via vivisection. No. getting to know and being known by _y/n_ was like gentle hands running up her body, discovering every part of her. Letting herself be known.

Suddenly Emily felt flushed all over. She was sure she was red in the face because Derek had come up beside her with Garcia nearby and said, “What are you thinking about, baby girl?” Morgan had Emily nearly jump out of her seat, and she said, “Geeze Derek, you didn’t have to scare me to death.” Morgan laughed and said, “Well, if you’d been paying any attention, you’d know I called your name twice before speaking louder. What’s got your mind so busy? You have another hot date last night with a guy?” Morgan couldn’t help but notice Emily’s flushed state, and that her breathing had picked up ever so slightly. Emily sighed and rolled her eyes. Garcia, as if she were a profiler herself, commented, “She rolled her eyes, so it’s probably not a boy. Is it a girl? It could be that or someone who’s non-binary. Oh please Em, spill the beans. My love life is as dry and old bones right now, and I need someone vicarious to live through to make it through the drought.” Now Prentiss rolled her eyes because of Penelope’s antics. Emily had reigned in her straying thoughts and her flush. Morgan chimed in, “I’m siding with Garcia on this one. I haven't heard you complain about a bad date in ages Prentiss. You finally find someone worth your time?” Emily replied, “You know ya’ll two are the biggest gossip’s in this building, right?” Garcia grinned and said, “Guilty as charged. Now spill the tea.” Em sighed again and said, “Listen I don’t even know yet. This is very new and I’m trying to understand my own feelings about the whole situation. As for the gender of this person. I think that can wait. Last time I told you both the restaurant I had dinner with on a second date on Penelope had found that dude’s Insta by the afternoon, so I’m not making that mistake twice.” Before either Morgan or Penelope could protest, Hotch called the team into the conference room to debrief the newest case. It was a mercy for Emily, and she let her mind wander back to the image of her and _y/n_ being that close, or exploring a deeper intimacy together before she fully pushed it aside to focus on the case.

Emily was back in the David Copperfield Bar, the one on 6th that she’d met _y/n_ at. The last week had been rough. The case was a hard one, bumping right up to the Holidays. Then after that, she got word from her mother that she wouldn’t be able to visit her in London because her mom had to go to an emergency security council meeting in Brussels which had been a big bummer. Emily hadn’t seen her mom in over two years, and this was going to be her chance, but fate had other plans. Plans that even Emily was unaware of. She had found herself in _y/n_’s neck of the woods because she was doing some retail therapy. She’d bought a new dress which she wore out of the Prada. Rossi had offered for her to come and celebrate Christmas with him, but as the rest of the team was mostly away with family or friends, Prentiss felt that it was a little sad and had said no. So she had spent the holidays alone. That depressing fact was still catching up with her. As Emily sipped on a Cosmo, the doorbell jingled and she was surprised to see _y/n_ step inside and shake off some snow from a warm-looking coat. Her and _y/n_’s next meeting slash date was set for next week on Friday, and Emily hadn’t expected to see her again until this. But the sight was far from unwelcome.

_y/n_ noticed Emily too. _y/n_ moved across the mostly empty space to where she was sitting and said, “Well fancy seeing you here, Emily. Did something drag you to this side of town during the holidays?” _y/n_ couldn’t imagine a person like Emily drinking alone. There must be some other reason. Prentiss sighed and said, “No it’s just me. I was spending my Christmas money, as you can see.” She pointed to her Prada bag, and _y/n_’s eyebrows went up. _y/n_ jokingly asked, “Wow, if the FBI paying that well. I should consider a career change.” _y/n_’s joke didn’t seem to land and Emily still looked glum after. _y/n_ tipped her head to the side and said, “Mind if I join you after grabbing a drink?” Prentiss nodded yes, and _y/n_ was quick to grab her standard drink and then sit down across from the demure woman. After a few moments of silence, _y/n_, “What’s the matter, Emily? You seem so sad.” Emily looked into _y/n_’s empathetic eyes and sighed before saying, “It’s nothing really. I had a bad week at work and then I was supposed to fly out to see my mom but that got mixed up. I’m just throwing myself a pity party by having a cheap drink and having some retail therapy. I’ll be alright, _y/n_. I’m just going to finish this round, closeout, go home, and sleep for a solid eight hours. I’ll feel better then.” Emily was feeling sad, and she didn’t want to dampen _y/n_’s evening with her mood. However, _y/n_ worried about Emily a little. This wasn’t her confident, chipper self. _y/n_ replied, “Do you want to be alone tonight? You can come over to my place. It’s two days after Christmas. If you don’t want to be alone, you don’t have to be Emily.” The words came out of _y/n_ like water. Like they’d been there all along and they’d finally slipped out of her mouth for good. _y/n_ didn’t mind them, but they seemed like something someone far more confident than her would say. Emily similarly seemed taken aback, but mostly because it sounded so nice after all she’d been through that week. To be in _y/n_’s company felt like a balm. Prentiss said gently, “_y/n_, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to take time away from your life, or if you’ve still got friends or family around.” _y/n_ smiled and replied, “I’ve spent time with the people that matter to me. If I couldn’t see them in person then we called. And I managed to mostly avoid the people I hate. But my house is empty, and you’re welcome in it even if it’s just for an hour so you don’t feel alone.” Emily looked at _y/n_ and again there was no dishonesty in her countenance. Emily wasn’t sure if _y/n_ could tell a lie. And because she badly wanted to feel seen, Prentiss nodded a small yes. They both finished their drinks, and _y/n_ paid for both of them with Emily softly insisting to pay _y/n_ back, but it really didn’t matter either way.

The pair took their time walking to _y/n_’s house as the flurries floated down in soft waves that made a satisfying crunching sound beneath both _y/n_ and Emily’s feet. Neither spoke as neither knew what was going to happen once they got to _y/n_’s place. But they made it eventually and _y/n_ unlocked the gate and then the door and then she was turning on the lights and telling Emily, “Make yourself at home? Would you like something to drink? Some water or a glass of wine? I’ve got cold brew if you like that at nine p.m.” That finally got Emily to laugh as she took off her coat and rather unceremoniously slumped down on the couch. Hearing Prentiss laugh had _y/n_ turn her head back and say, “Now that’s the girl I know.” Hearing those words had Emily flush. She cleared her throat and said, “A glass of wine would be nice, _y/n_. Thank you for having me.” _y/n_ nodded, and as she poured two glasses red. _y/n_ set the glasses in front of them and then sat next to Emily. She sat so close that she could feel the heat radiating off the brunette beside her. They both took their glasses, gave them a small clink and Emily said, “To friends, we didn’t know we needed.” _y/n_ smiled, placing a hand on Emily’s thigh. _y/n_ took a small sip of wine and then asked, “Is that what we are Emily? Friends?” Prentiss’s eyes had gotten wider, pupils slowly blowing out. Emily softly ran a circle with her thumb over the soft flesh of Emily’s upper leg.

_y/n_ felt like she must be possessed by Aphrodite with the confidence that had up until now, never emerged like this before. _y/n_’s desire for Emily was strong, stronger than it had ever been, and more shockingly was the fact that Prentiss wasn’t pulling away from her touch. She was leaning into it, into her. And before _y/n_ could fully understand what was happening, their lips were meeting and the scent of Emily’s perfume filled her head like a hallucinogen. Emily similarly reveled in the sensation of _y/n_ soft lips pressed against hers. She snaked her hands into _y/n_’s hair, just to make sure this wasn’t a dream. When they had to pull back, Prentiss took a quick breath. She kept her hands woven in _y/n_’s smooth locks and then kissed her forehead tenderly. Emily didn’t consider herself a woman of lust, but the feelings that _y/n_ had pulled out of her made her want more. Made her want to get drunk on _y/n_ alone. Finally, she pulled back, and _y/n_ was flushed and her chest rose and fell more rapidly as if she was still trying to regain her breath. Emily placed a hand on the side of _y/n_’s face. She wanted to ensure that there was consent for everything going forward, so she asked, “_y/n_, do you want to keep doing this? Doing more? I’d like that with you _y/n_, but only if you're comfortable with it. I don’t want to move too fast if it’s unwanted.” Emily’s words seemed to zap all of _y/n_’s confidence from her, and she pulled back a little. Prentiss took this as a “Yes, let’s stop for now,” but didn’t understand the internal conflict _y/n_ was having. Didn’t understand why _y/n_ felt like she couldn’t say yes even though she desperately wanted to. But how could _y/n_ admit that she’d never been with a woman before to someone as pretty and cool as Emily? What would Emily think of her after that? But Prentiss could see _y/n_ look aside, the loss of confidence that had looked so good on her. In a gentle voice, Emily asked, “Penny for your thoughts, _y/n_.” _y/n_ bit the inside of her lip and realized if she was going to be brave with anyone in this area of her life, Emily was probably the best person to do it with. After all, it was Emily, she had just been making out with like it was nothing. So risking whatever there was between them, _y/n_ said, “I, I want to be with you like that Em. It’s just, well, I’ve never been with a woman before and I know, I know it’s stupid, but I don’t know how. I don’t want it to be mediocre. Not for you. With guys, it’s whatever, but not with you. You deserve the best, and…” _y/n_ realized she was rambling and cut herself off, embarrassed.

Emily nodded a bit in understanding and replied, “_y/n_, did you think I was going to laugh at you or something for not being experienced?” _y/n_ turned her head back to Prentiss and gave a small affirmative nod. Emily sighed and took her hands saying, “_y/n_ we all have to start somewhere. My first time with a woman wasn’t great, I can tell you that. It was all teeth and tongue.” Emily flushed at the memory. She’d grown a lot since then in her sexuality and experience. _y/n_ knew where Emily was coming from but said hesitantly, “Yes, but you’re my first woman to be intimate with Emily and I can only imagine that it will be tongue and teeth when I reciprocate.” Emily squeezed _y/n_’s hand and said, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I want to make you feel good _y/n_. Making you feel amazing will make me feel very happy. And if you want to try with me, I can tell you what I like. Show you what to do? But you don’t have to. You make me feel so open, _y/n_. And I’d like to share that with you, for you, if you’ll have me?” _y/n_ looked at Emily. _y/n_ thought about everything, about how she didn’t know what this relationship was, but how good it had felt to kiss Emily. How natural it was. How Prentiss had booked after a robber just to get her purse back with her. Yes, _y/n_ felt the nerves in her stomach clench in apprehension, but the desire to have something more with Emily gave her the courage to nod and eventually say, “Yes. I want that with you too, Emily. Would you show me how it works?” Emily softly smiled and said, “Of course. I’d be happy too. How would you feel about moving to your bedroom? I think this might be more comfortable there than on the coach.

_y/n_ nodded and stood. Emily placed a hand on her lower back, as they moved a few feet to _y/n_’s bedroom. _y/n_ turned on some lamps and then stood in front of Emily, hands down in supplication. Prentiss moved toward her and said honestly, “You can tell me to stop at any time. If at any point you want to stop, we stop, alright?” _y/n_ nodded yes, and Emily asked, “Please tell me yes.” _y/n_ cleared her throat, a blush rising at the idea of what was about to happen, and said, “Yes. I promise.” Emily smiled and said, “That’s my girl,” before leaning down and kissing _y/n_ again. This kiss was more passionate. Now _y/n_ ran her hands through Emily’s dark hair, while the agent's hands slipped behind _y/n_ back and shoulders. Pulling _y/n_’s body more flush with hers. Prentiss ran her tongue over _y/n_’s low lip and _y/n_ opened her mouth in surprise at the warm, wet sensation. Emily pulled back ever so slightly and looked at the hazy gaze of desire in _y/n_’s eyes. Emily whispered, “Can I slip my tongue in your mouth? I want to taste you here before I taste you down there?” _y/n_ flushed further and nodded her consent. _y/n_ more excitedly pressed her lips to Emily’s opening her mouth again. Emily moved her tongue inside _y/n_’s mouth and softly explored the dark space. Feeling the concaves and upper palette of the space. Emily savored this small step, as she felt _y/n_ press her body even closer to her own as the intimacy and trust grew between them. When _y/n_ let out a soft moan, prompted by Prenitss slipping her hand under her shirt, and to her bare back, Emily pulled away.

Whatever hesitation or fear had been in _y/n_ before was slowly seeping away as she longed for more sensation from her guide in this new realm or pleasure. Prentiss asked, “Is it okay if I help you out of these things you’re wearing? You get to choose how much you want me to see.” _y/n_ smiled and said, “I’d like you to see everything. And I’d like to see all of your too,” as _y/n_ began undoing the buttons of her shirt while Emily moved her slender hands to _y/n_’s skirt waistband. When the zipper was undone, it slipped to the floor along with _y/n_’s shirt which she cast aside. Emily looked over _y/n_ in her semi-naked state. She was luminous, glowing under the lamplight in _y/f/c_ bra and panties. Emily affirmed her as she had the first night they met. “You are so, so beautiful, _y/n_. With your clothes, without your clothes. You’re like a sun, like a light.” _y/n_ chuckled and moved softly behind Emily, with the profiler watching her graceful steps. _y/n_ said, “May I get you out of this dress?” Prentiss nodded and _y/n_ pulled down the zipper on the back. The gold teeth unwound one by one down to Emily’s lower back Once there, _y/n_ pushed either side of the body off of Emily’s arms. The outfit was formfitting and it took one or two more tugs to get the dress to join the rest of _y/n_’s clothes on the floor. When it was off, _y/n_ moved to face Emily head-on again. Now _y/n_ looked over the goddess that was in front of her and said, “Have you considered that I might just be a mirror and that you’re the one that’s the sun, Emily?” _y/n_ really hadn’t allowed herself to consciously think about Emily like this. Or even look at her that closely until now because an insecure part of her, deep inside, had told _y/n_ that someone like Emily would never be interested in her. But now the most beautiful woman in the world was in front of her, in only a white lace bra and matching underwear and it was all a bit overwhelming in the best possible way. It felt like the relief of getting a breath of oxygen after being pushed underwater by a big wave for too long. It didn’t even take Emily asking to get _y/n_ to take her hand and lead them both to her bed. Once they were on the mattress with _y/n_ laying up on her elbows and Emily slightly over her, Prentiss kissed her mouth and then down her jawline and neck. Once between the valley of _y/n_ breasts, Emily slipped her right hand behind _y/n_’s back and easily undid the clasp of _y/n_’s bra while her left slipped the straps off _y/n_’s shoulders. _y/n_ helped in removing the intimate article. _y/n_’s nipples upon exposure to the cool air formed their taut buds, ready to be rubbed or sucked. However, before Emily moved forward, she sought clarity,

Emily sat up a bit, and _y/n_ looked slightly disappointed as Prentiss said, “_y/n_. Just so I know, how much experience do you have with sex and intimacy? Be it with men or yourself?” _y/n_ flushed but replied honestly, “You know, I’ve messed around. Had a boyfriend or two. It was mostly _y/e/w/m/b_, but not much more than that. As for what I’ve tried myself is just _w/y/d/w/ys_.” Somehow _y/n_ had imagined that sharing her history with Emily would be embarrassing, like saying she’d never been with a woman would be embarrassing. But Prentiss took it in stride and said, “Thank you for telling me. I’m going to go slow for now. If you want more or less, or to stop, all you have to do is tell me.” _y/n_ nodded and watched as Emily dipped her head down to her chest, taking her right nipple into her mouth and swirling her tongue over the sensitive area.” Almost instantly _y/n_ moaned and closed her eyes. As _y/n_ tipped her head back, Prentiss used her left hand to rub over _y/n_’s left nipple and used her right to trace down _y/n_’s side, and then between _y/n_’s legs. With practiced pressure, Emily rubbed circles over _y/n_’s clothed sex. _y/n_ let out another moan, and Emily knew that if she slipped her right hand under _y/n_’s panties, she would feel the beginnings of desire slick her fingers. But she worked slowly, making sure _y/n_ was ready. After a few minutes and many more needy sounds for _y/n_, Emily asked, “Can I taste you down there? It’s not invasive or overwhelming generally speaking like traditional sex. I think you might like it. It’s a good starting place for this type of intimacy.” _y/n_ stopped herself from recounting how the one time she’d asked a partner about cunnilingus, they had said, “That stuff’s gross,” and instead said, “Yes, please.” Because _y/n_ had wondered what it felt like, and if it was Emily's offering, it had to be mindblowing. Everything else the brunette had been doing to her body had been ecstatic. Eliciting feelings and responses she’d never felt before. Emily nodded and again, saw the desire in _y/n_’s eyes. Prentiss kissed down _y/n_’s stomach and navel and then made it to the elastic of her underwear. Because Emily had been continually teasing and applying appropriate pressure to _y/n_’s clit, she knew that _y/n_ was soaked already. That it wouldn’t take much to get her over the edge. Prentiss pulled off _y/n_’s last piece of clothing with _y/n_’s help by lifting her hips. It was just the sound of their shared breath as Emily positioned _y/n_’s legs apart and slightly bent. Emily repositioned herself on the bed and gave one final look to _y/n_ between her legs. _y/n_ nodded her final consent, and Prentiss moved her mouth to _y/n_’s most intimate area.

Even as Emily’s tongue made its first pass in tasting _y/n_’s arousal, the new sensation had _y/n_ clench her stomach in the most pleasurable way. Similarly, Emily loved the taste of _y/n_ so much that she lapped up and down _y/n_’s sex from her entrance to her sensitive bundle of nerves, taking everything she could with each pass. _y/n_ gripped the sheets of the bed with clenched fists; saying Emily’s name as she struggled to get the word out around her pleasure. Emily slowed her mouth a bit, realizing she was getting ahead of herself with her desire. As Prentiss started to draw small circles up and then down _y/n_ weeping sex, she used her other hand to run up and down _y/n_’s side. After a few minutes of this, _y/n_was panting. The tingling in her core had built up to a fire that was daring to be let out. To flare with just the smallest addition of oxygen. Emily’s mouth and nose were wet with _y/n_’s slick, and when _y/n_ said, “Please, Emily. I don’t think I can take it much longer.” Prentiss moved her attention to the _y/n_’s clit. Emily sucked and licked the area in tight circles. That was all it took for _y/n_ to intensely climax. _y/n_’s orgasm felt like water finally coming to a boil. The sensation was so strong that she spasmed uncontrollably for a moment and then collapsed into the bed. The euphoric feeling was so filling that _y/n_’s mind went blank for a few moments. It took _y/n_ a few minutes to realize that Emily had moved from between her legs and was now by her side, checking in on her, and running a hand up and down her arm to ground _y/n_. When _y/n_ opened her eyes, she said, “That was so good Em. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I want to give that to you too. I’m just not sure if I can do it tonight. My brain, it’s like, turned into soup or something.” _y/n_ chuckled, closing her legs and saying, “Maybe you broke me. I’m not sure if humans are supposed to feel that good.” Prentiss smiled at _y/n_’s words and how flushed she still looked, even minutes after her release. Emily ran a hand through _y/n_’s hair and said, “You deserve to feel that way often, _y/n_. I’ll make it your new normal if you’ll let me. I feel drawn to you in a way I’ve never felt pulled to anyone before. I’d like to show you more. Get to know you more. Keep spending time together.” _y/n_ nodded and said, “I’d like that, But only if you promise to show me how to make you feel this way too?” Emily nodded and said, “It would be a pleasure.” There were a few moments of silence before _y/n_ said, “Spend the night with me, please? It’s late, and I need my sun near me for a warmth I never knew I needed.” Emily smiled and nodded, wordlessly nestling close to _y/n_’s body, finding solace in their proximity.

After composing herself a bit _y/n_ moved, turned off all of the lights, and lay down next to Emily again. With an arm draped over Prentiss’s waist. _y/n_ asked in the darkness of the room, “What are we exactly, Emily? Is this what people always talk about with love at first sight?” Emily’s laugh reassured _y/n_ that she felt the same way about that trope as her. Emily replied softly, “I don’t know yet. I don’t think this feeling I have around you has ever happened to me before. But maybe we can figure out a label tomorrow if it will bring you comfort. All I know is that I love you, _y/n_, and I don’t want to let you go.” As _y/n_ felt Emily fall asleep in her arms. _y/n_ whispered, “I love you too, Em.” As _y/n_ slipped into oblivion, she pondered how she’d never really allowed herself to fall in love before. Because it could hurt, because she’d been rejected before. The fear of falling seemed so stupid now that Emily was nestled next to her, and with that, she slipped into sleep.

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