#don’t have the energy for people to argue about this in my notes. shrug emoji

[weezeryuri]

best piece of internet advice i Can offer is if someone is weirdly fixated on chris chan you gotta get the fuck out of there as soon as possible

[thunderheadfred]

💥Bakugou HC's💥

Aged-up pro hero Katsuki for all of these. Some NSFW beneath the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

He’s scary good at everything he tries. Every. Single. Fucking. Thing. It’s infuriating. Has zero patience when other people can’t immediately master a skill. Never let him teach you anything. Not that he’d offer, nerd.

He WILL offer, though. A lot. He can’t believe you still can’t Do That Thing. Tsh. Like THIS. You're gonna hurt yourself, Dummy.

But hold on. Of course you have unique skills of your own. You work hard to improve yourself. Trust me, he's the first person to notice. He doesn't praise anyone lightly, so when he raises his eyebrows and whispers he's impressed, your heart will go thermonuclear.

Perfect spelling and fully punctuated texts. Never uses abbreviations. Employs a grand total of four emojis, all of them angry faces. Constantly leaves you on read. He's busy, dammit.

Doesn’t smile or laugh in public (except sarcastically). His real smile is a crooked, fragile thing. Never make him feel self-conscious about it, or you might not see it again for weeks.

He does not talk about his private life to the press. Ever. Will K.O. rookie reporters who can't keep their big mouths shut.

HOweVER: he's intensely kind to his fans. There is a whole photographic sub-genre of little girls in cosplay hugging Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight like he's a Disney Princess.

Too smart for his own good. Emotionally hyper-vigilant. Overthinks every interaction to hell and back. Will act like he's not listening but actually hears every single word in a ten-block radius.

INSECURE AF. 110% convinced he will never be good enough. Terrified of his loved ones leaving him behind. Does he do anything to assuage his fears? Like... talk to anyone about it? Hell no. That would require admitting he has fears to begin with.

Seeing people upset makes him upset, especially if he doesn't know how to fix it.

The epitome of being mean because he cares. He genuinely does not seem to comprehend that monosyllabic grunts and lopsided shrugs are not actually that comforting.

Because he was such a brat growing up, he wants to make up for it now. Sort of. In his own way. Look, he's trying, okay?

He smells - so - good. Obscenely good. He doesn't wear cologne; are you joking? There's the burnt-sugar caramel candy smell of his quirk, for starters. And since he sweats deadly ammunition, he showers and wipes himself down almost constantly. He always smells clean. Like a fucking meadow.

Never got that growth spurt he was hoping for. He’s a short man - not even THAT short - but he has a Napoleon complex anyway. If you’re taller than him, the collars of your shirts will all be stretched out. He’s constantly dragging you down to his level. He will assert himself all the fucking time; the pissing contest is never-ending. Don’t wear tall shoes unless you want him to drag you around on a leash. If you’re shorter than him, that’s good. That’s very good. He likes that.

He’s an incredible cook, but everything he makes is a nuclear fire challenge. Adapt or starve.

- - - - -

Dating

Makes artisanal, nutritionally flawless bento lunches for both of you. When people assume his S.O. makes them, he gets fucking pissed. Damn right your co-workers are jealous of my cooking.

Your pet name is Dummy. Don’t like it? Fine. You can be dumbass.

There will be zero PDA in this relationship. His hands are shoved so deep in his pockets you can’t even try.

Intensely private with the press. But with his friends, he will brag about you nonstop. Bakugou Katsuki has the most talented and attractive and intelligent S.O., and anyone who doesn't recognize that is blind. Were you assholes even listening?

A mutual buddy definitely recorded one of these drunken brag-rants and sent it to you for safekeeping. Do not let Katsuki find out about it, unless you enjoy having an ash pile for a phone.

Gets jealous about everything, at least at the start. He calms down eventually. Kinda. He stops saying shit to you about it, anyway, because he learns to trust you. But anyone who so much as looks at you in a too-friendly manner will get the death stare of a lifetime.

He’ll throw all kinds of temper tantrums and the two of you will argue about every tiny fucking thing. He’ll scream out car windows, he’ll ball up his shirt and gnash on it. But he will never raise his voice at you. He’d rather die than make you feel unsafe.

Honestly, the constant bickering is really just... uhh... passionate communication. Eventually you both hash out the important things. You'll learn how to step around his landmines and actually make your points, and he'll learn to open up. A little.

Once you meet his mom, Katsuki starts to make a lot more sense. His family just... emotes like that. Eventually, you and his dad form a spousal support group consisting of exactly two lifetime members. He teaches you the Bakugou family semaphore you need to survive a long-term relationship.

Katsuki can dish it out but absolutely cannot take it. The only person who can level with him about serious issues without explosive fallout is his dad. Or, on a lucky day, Kirishima.

If you give him a legitimate criticism (even gently!) he will take it about as gracefully as a knife to the gut, because it confirms everything he hates about himself.

To your never-ending shock, you’ve made him cry. Yes, CRY! You monster! More than once! His lip gets all *trembly* and his eyes get all *watery* and all you want to do is hug him, but. No. He’ll storm out and wander around for a few hours before coming back with the problem perfectly solved.

He always takes your advice to heart. No, he will NOT talk about it, stop asking.

Gets mad if you don’t snuggle him on the regular. Will drag you into his lap with a pissy little grunt. There might be two seats on this couch but you will not be needing both of them.

Takes pictures of you while you sleep.

Takes even more pictures of you when you're awake but think he's out of the room.

He looks at all these pictures when he's away on high-stakes jobs. He gets all bleary eyed and sleeps in a salty puddle without you. NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW.

You don’t have to meet him at the door or anything, but when he says “I’m home,” you’d better answer fast. If he doesn’t know your precise location in 0.05 seconds, he will assume you’ve been kidnapped. He never checks the fridge for notes. Never assumes you've gone down to the konbini for a snack. No, it’s kidnapping every time.

A terrrrrrible bed partner. He goes to bed at senior citizen hours and will never fuck you after sundown. He snores SO loud. Runs hot and sweats through the sheets. Slaps and elbows you in his sleep and aggressively spoons you with his loud, sweaty body. You WILL want to suffocate him. Separate bedrooms aren’t such a horrible idea......

BUT HANG ON, because in the morning he transforms into an honest-to-god angel. He's half awake, his guard is non-existent. Morning Katsuki is a doting kissy-faced marshmallow man.

If you can wake up before the ass-crack of dawn, he will pamper the fuck out of you. You are royalty for one (1) hour only, and he is your bleary-eyed slave. You want a cuddlefuck? You got it. Hugs? Kisses? Take as many as you need. You want a perfect, fluffy, NON-SPICY omelette with a heart drawn in ketchup? Here it is, gorgeous.

Then he gets in the shower and the spell is broken.

- - - - -

💥bang BANG💥

Let’s get the obvious out of the way: this here is an ASS. MAN. He'll spank you with his quirk; doesn’t matter if you’ve been good or bad. Wants to see you wince when you sit down later.

Likes pounding you face down with a vice grip on your waist.

Unfortunately, even with all that said... he doesn't exactly have the feral beast sex drive you were expecting. He’s married to his work and has the fuddy-duddy habits of a once and future valedictorian. Only fucks you when he has the time and energy to fully dedicate himself to it.

But ohhhh. Shit. When it's time? It's TIME. The man will rush for nothing. Stamina for days. Making you cum as many times as possible is a point of pride. Yeah, you passed out once.

You’re gonna need those days off when he’s done with you.

That dick THICC.

Sends unsolicited dick pics. Only after you’ve been dating a good long while - he doesn't show that shit to just anyone. But yeah, don’t check your phone at work. He won't cum without you; those pictures and videos are time bombs. You better get home. Now.

Physically dominant as FUCK, but won’t verbally degrade you unless you ask. Well, let’s be honest. Unless you beg.

Praise him and reap the rewards. A long hard ego stroking will get him off more than touching his cock ever will.

Will grab your hair and fuck your throat. Will also stop immediately if you need him to.

The two of you have safe words and gestures. Even for vanilla stuff. He’s paranoid about scaring or hurting you. He insisted you both sign a color-coded ‘love contract’ that he meticulously formatted in a word processor. When you gave him guff about it, his blush was the darkest crimson you’d ever seen.

Coin-flip: he will sometimes be unbelievably gentle in bed. Doting and affectionate, taking perfect care of you. Like, it’s baffling. There’s no warning, the switch just flips. When you want him to be extra-rough and mean, he’ll sweetly worship you instead. For hours.

Bonus: he likes being penetrated. But of course he’s got a complex about that too. Super intense power bottom. You will never fuck him hard enough. He’d like to see you try. Hit his prostate just right and he might literally explode.

You'll live happily ever after but he will say he loves you out loud exactly once. Maybe. If you're lucky. And you're both about to die.

[aesthbaby]

Ghost

Summary: Do you remember the episode Demonology where we learned of Emily’s past? What if I told you, you were apart of it. After years of silence on her end, you end up meeting her again.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Prompt: here

Warnings: Cursing | Sadness | Typos

Word Count:

Masterlist

An: Dedicated to my hundredth follower. Ahhhh I'm too hype about this! I also made a slight change to the prompt but everything else is the same :)  Anon, I hope you enjoy.

Indignation

The screaming crawls up the walls of her oversized, child hood home to shake her ear drums. The thunder only adds fuel to the fire that is the rage possessed by both Prentiss’ as they continue their screaming match.

“Don’t you dare walk away when I’m talking to you!” Elizabeth’s voice matches the rain. The way she stomps behind her daughter looks almost comical.

“Back off mother.” She mumbles this more to herself than her mother.

She stops walking, planting her feet firmly on the Brazilian Chestnut flooring. “I will not ask you again.” She comes to a stop, takes a breath, and slowly turns to her mother. Not meeting her eyes, of course, because it’d hurt too much to see the hate in her eyes. “Look at me.” The mother growls. She slowly moves to meet her mothers eyes and finds nothing but rage there; energy matched to the thunder and rain outside. “You will not see that-” The derogatory term gets caught up in her throat.

Taking a step towards the elder, “What?” Daring to ask the question to which she already knows the answer. “What do you want to say mother?” Her jaw tightens, a sign that Emily knows all too well. “Spit it out.” Its taking everything in her not to raise her voice again and spew the word out for her mother.

Elizabeth takes a breath of her own before replying. “You are not to see that girl again or so help me, I will make sure she goes back to where she came from.” Before Emily could object, she speaks again. “That is final Emily.” Her voice holds strong, and suddenly the storm ceases its assault. 

All is quiet in the Prentiss house yet the tension remains; so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

Disregard

The next morning you arrive to school earlier than usual, but for good reason. Some random college hoodie wrapped loosely around your torso and a dainty neck tucked under it. Your school uniform has never fit you quite right because of how late in the year you transferred, you know...left overs. Phone is going absolutely crazy in your shirt pocket but now isn't the time, you’re looking for somebody. You’re looking for her. Mr. Ricci’s voice can be heard on your left, telling a group of guys its time for class. Emily...where the hell are you?

As the day progresses you still see no sign of the brunette until now. “Emily!” Running up to her you deliver a swift punch to her shoulder. “Where the hell have you been?” When her eyes meet yours they puffy, like she’s been crying. “Em- I-”

“First of all, ouch. Secondly, I can’t right now.” She turns to walk off with her lunch in hand, but you quickly pull her back by her elbow.

“You ‘can’t’ right now? What the hell is wrong with you?” Its taking everything in you not to become overtly emotional. “And where have you been?”

“Y/n I’m sorry but I really can’t right now.” She pulls away from your grip. Leaving you more confused than before.

You scuff at her wording. “You never calls me by my first name...” Its always been her thing, starting with a joke about how she has another friend by the same name as you so she had to call you something else. The next day was the same, avoiding you at all costs.

But it didn’t stop there.

It felt as though you were left on a physical manifestation of ‘read.’ Her name with the red heart emoji attached, did not pop up on your phone for what seemed to be months but in reality it had only been a few weeks. If she were to simply pick up the phone you would have been able to tell her about your unforeseen departure time. Due to sudden changes in international studies, you had to leave and the academy needed their student back. The one of which you exchange places with in January. Tears spring to your eyes at the thought of leaving. Not only are you leaving her, but also leaving this city you got to call home.

Sunny days always seem to appear at the wrong time, your departure day. She’s not here to see you off, hasn’t been around for a while. Can you really blame her? She doesn’t even know you’re leaving because she wont pick up the fucking phone. It doesn’t matter anymore, your time is up and so is her’s. A line of black and white kittens sprint across the cobblestone streets and that right there is what makes you break down in tears. Seeing the delicate kittens run after a mouse while tripping over their own feet. Random yellow flowers peaking through the stone which you’ve never known the actual name of. That one girl in Chem that would bake cookies for the class on Fridays. Your host dad taking you to his favorite café that served an increasing number of Cuban smokers. Going to eat gelato after homeroom with that one guy who would always make Golden Girls references. Then there was Emily, the girl that gave you a dainty gold necklace for valentines day. The girl that got a random jock to stop harassing you. The person whose lap you’d lay in on Saturday mornings at the park, is the same person who randomly started to ignore you. Maybe you could have fixed things with her if you had more time. You were supposed  to have until June but suddenly everything shifted and all you were told is that you needed to come home, promptly. You couldn’t wait for her any longer, not even sure why you thought she’d come in the first place. Casting one last glance over your shoulder before stepping into the buzzing airport.

At least meet me half way.

Hereafter

"I don’t think so.” You laugh at your friend’s proposition to set you up on a blind date. “I am absolutely content with the way I choose to live my life.” Shifting a bit on the new couch that hasn’t been broken in, resulting in the stiff cushions.

He lets out this weird scuffing noise. “No you’re not. Remember last weekend when we tried to pull an all-nighter but your sleep deprived brain betrayed you?” At your nonchalant shrug, he continues. “You started rambling about just wanting to find some well educated, fun loving, female in this world full of bureaucratic straight men. Your words, not mine.” You throw a pillow at him but he swiftly doges it. “But you couldn’t have said it better.” These recent years have been a series of unfortunate dates that have ended in you lying about having to leave early for something.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend you should be getting home to?”

“Not tonight, I’m all yours. Apparently she has her knitting circle tonight.”

“That's what you get for dating an older woman.” 

“Its a five year age difference! What is wrong with you people?”

You hold your hands up in defense. “Nothing, as long as you’re both legal and she’s good to you, its fine by me.”

“Shut up!” He screeches. “Oh shit, don’t you have a meeting in the morning?”

“Yes sir.” He stands to take your glasses and plates in the kitchen but you object. “Leave it,” At his confused expression, you continue. “Cleaning helps me relax so I figured I’ll wake up early so I can do that and reduce my stress levels by at least ten percent.”

“Dude, you’re seriously weird.”

“Say another bad thing about me and I'm sending you home.”

Throwing him a few pillows from the hallway closet and a comforter just for him to scream, “Its too hot in this cottage core apartment!”

Its not even cottage core themed?? Its just cozy with a plant or two. Am I expected to live in an ice cold home? I feel like he’s just saying this because I’m gay.

Your prepared outfit hands on the back of your bedroom door, mocking you. Making you reconsider the entire thing and simply not go but it feels as though you’d regret it if you didn’t. Maybe not, who knows?

And with that as your final though, you drift off to sleep.

You wake at the amazing time of 6 A.M to see your guest gone with a note on the couch:

I cleaned up the mess from last night and I also did the dishes in your sink. Not sure how u slept through all of that...I made a fruit salad for ur breakfast and a normal one for lunch.

Good luck with your meeting!

And one of those old fashioned emoticons at the bottom corner. Idiot.

You eat the food he left from the fridge, brush your teeth with the news playing in the background, and continue on with the normal morning routine.

Gathering your lunch and the little items you feel like you’d need, phone, charger, paper work, and keys; you know, the works. Finally heading out to your destination with nothing but ambition, you run into a slight problem. 

Overlapping breakfast with an old friend of yours. “Hey, babe, I am so sorr-”

“Absolutely not, I don’t want to hear your excuses.” The positive voice rings through the phone like velvet sheets after a cold shower. “You missed our reservation!” Have to admit hearing them whine is pretty entertaining. “You had one job. One!” You guys met some years ago over some random online forum, arguing over some random movie. You don’t talk as much as you’d like but breakfast is always on the menu--mostly in February.

“Quick question, am I allowed to apologize?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, “Yes you may, but only in fruit baskets and coffee.”

“I got you, next time though. I’m on my way to something right now.”

“Something...” In comes the teasing undertone. “Does this ‘something’ have a name?”

Bursting into a fit of laughter at what is implied and replying, “Definitely not, its a work thing.”

“Speaking of work, I have to go. Ciao!”

Just in time to end the call, you pull into the designated parking deck from the email. Going through all of the security procedures was hell but blatantly necessary; the rest was gravy. Floating through the rest of the building gave you a slightly stressful feel because of all the men walking around with perfect suits and casting no glances your direction. When the glass doors labeled BAU appear, you take a deep breath and walk in with confidence. Taking in the buzzing sound of agents at work all around you. Agent Hotcher’s office is glaringly obvious: higher up than the rest, perfect overview of the hive, and in direct eye sight of the entryway doors.

Delivering a swift knock to the office door you hear a faint invitation from the inside. Walking in with a smile and straight back you are greeted with a man in a dark navy blue suit and a stoic look to attached to him. It first starts with the small talk of your experience, early life, skill sets, and what not.

“Agent Hotchner, might I speak out of line for a moment.” He gives you a skeptical look before nodding. “I understand the nature of this meeting but I am not completely sure why it was conducted.” His furrowed brown is not a good sign, making you correct your structure a bit. “Right, well,” God his stare is fucking intense. “What I mean to ask is, why am I here?”

That was bold.

“Agent, are you not aware that this is a Career Analysis Assessment?” As it slowly sinks in an O-shape forms with your mouth. Now you feel like a complete idiot in front of this prestigious, tight suited, man. “You were unaware? Its fine if you were,” You let out a sigh at the confirmation. “I have a tendency to write my emails with an excessive amount of four syllable words so one could see where the confusion originated.” You let out a nervous laugh at the realization that this is basically a job interview.

“I see that you’ve spent time studying abroad.” Indicated by the recommendations from your Italian Psychology teacher. “Why not join the CIA?”

“Dare I say, they make me nervous?” He cracks a small, very subtle, smile at the admission.

“What made you want to leave Human Resources?”

“I got tired of analyzing decisions with nothing but dead bodies and messy crimes and having my primal focus be the agents and not the victims or perpetrators. Using what I’ve learned as material for agents in training when I could have prevented it from happening.”

“Well said, but I need to be completely transparent with you.” This can’t be good. “I will admit that I have serious reservations about adding a Human Resources officer to my team.”

Shit let me stop him before this spirals. He thinks I’m a spy. “Sir, with all do respect, I have no intentions of being a bureaucratic spy. I’d also like to point out that I wasn’t that high on the HR totem pole to the point where I had an explicit say on what happens to agents, who is hire, fired, or how they’re trained. I analyzed and compromised while expressing my findings to an unbiased extent. If I wanted to be a spy I would have joined the CIA.” Besides, Head Quarter’s is the one that does all of that internal investigation stuff, not HR.

He doesn’t say anything or make any sudden movements for a good minute. I fucked up. That spy line was too far. “I’d like to offer you a position on this team, so long as you can start immediately.”

“Yes, of course I can! I don’t have much office supplies besides a pen or two and-”

“Its fine,” He stands from his seat and straightens the dark blazer. “I’ll have one of my agents show you around.”

From across the bullpen you spot a familiar blonde. “Oh my god!” The file in her hand falls to the floor. “Its you!” She practically squeals.

“Penelope, I didn’t know you work here.” You give your old friend a tight, unapologetic hug. She said she worked as a tech analysis but you always assumed it was for an activism group or a tech firm, not the FBI out of all things. Despite having such interesting jobs, you never talk about work with each other. She knows you work for the government but not which. Although knowing how good she is at uncovering people’s secrets, there’s a good chance she already knew you work for the FBI too.

“What are you doing here? Like physically here. I thought you were in Florida.”

“I have to get back, can you take care of Agent Y/L/N for me?” Hotchner says before rushing off without an answer.

And there she goes with the snooping. “Actually, I left the Florida office and went to California.”

“Oh.” Her face twists a bit. “And now you’re here?”

“I thought you were the woman behind the curtains, the all knowing.”

“And wonderful!” She points with her perfectly painted finger.

In comes a slim man with a messenger back, making a click in your mind. “Now where have I seen him before...” Turning slightly to follow his trail.

“That’s our resident genius Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Unbelievable. “He’s twelve.” The young agent’s head snaps toward you and Penelope, “Does he have super human hearing too?” She introduces you to the Doctor who is, as expected, socially awkward in many ways. A man named David Rossi of whom you’ve met at least once during a few Bureau seminars; last you heard he had rejoined the BAU after retirement. Jennifer Jareau is gorgeous with a nurturing nature about her, she immediately recognizes your name from exchanged paperwork but that’s about it. The introductions are brief, everyone seems to be busy with their own things. “Penelope your team is kind of small.” You quietly mention to her.

“Oh!” Guess the realization that two people are missing, finally clicks in her head. She starts walking in the direction of a staircase so you automatically follow her. “This is Derek Morgan.” Standing in front of a round table is a tall man with a really toned body. “Derek, this is Agent Y/n L/n from Human Resources.” His eyebrow arches up in suspicion.

“Oh no I’m not here for anything bad, I’ve actual been transferred into the BAU. Working behind a desk and watching as others do the work I can’t, wasn’t working out for me.” Definitely won’t trust me until I save his life or something. “I’ve heard of you, one of the Academy trainers has shown a few videos of you.” He smirks at the implied compliment and finally holds his hand out for you to shake.

“Where’s...” Pen trails while looking around.

“Oh she’s getting coffee.” The darker man points behind himself.

“Who’s getting coffee?”

Reconciliation

Maybe we wouldn’t be so short handed if they sprung for better coffee. Emily thought to herself while stirring the flavorless, dark liquid. What if they attach a coffee shop to the building? Imagine how much money the shop would make off of overworked agents. But then I feel like we’d start developing a true addiction to this stuff. Her thoughts are interrupted by the approach of foot steps. She meets Derek’s figure and smiles at the resident goofball of the BAU. Followed by Penelope’s pink centralized outfit with feathers. Then there’s you, just as beautiful as the last time you saw each other. If not more. Your hair shines amongst the florescent lights, paired with the perfectly tailored outfit and jewelry. The same eyes that would brighten her day as they met. An almost unnoticeable bounce in you walk, same as it were years ago. As you step towards her there is a flash of gold on your wrist that sends a ping to Emily’s heart, its the necklace I gave you in high school.

Intersect

You would have know about Emily’s transfer here from a few years ago, had her paperwork gone through the HR department but apparently it went straight to the top because this is definitely a surprise. Once you realize its actually her you stop dead in your tracks. Can’t be.

“Y/n,” She stutters out your name in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“Emily, I work here.” Ripping the band-aid off like this is an every day encounter; seeing your unofficial ex who you were never actually with in the first place but had the same characteristics as a high school couple. Yeah...that.

She also blurted out a ‘no you don’t’ before Garcia interrupted. “How do you two know each other?”

You both snapped your heads to her simultaneously. “We don’t.” Also said that part at the same time.

“Right.” She drags. “I’m sensing some unresolved tension...”

“What are-” Em tries to object.

“So we’re going to go.” The tech analysis grabs the sleeve of the darker man and practically sprints off in the opposite direction. Morgan having a dumbfounded look on his face.

It feels like you’re at a stalemate, who will make the first move. What will the emotions be? Are they going to fly? Because I’d like to throw a few verbal punches her way. Who does that to someone? I thought I was over it but clearly the wound is still open. Great now watch her blame me for X, Y, and Z,

“I’ve missed you.” She barely whispers, sounding a bit broken yet insincere. Its like she’s detaching herself from the narrative. So unexpected that you almost think you’re imagining this. Why would she say that? This is not the Emily you remember.

Anger bubbles up in your throat ready to unleash upon her entirety. Instead of bursting into flames right on the spot, in the middle of your new place of employment you take a deep breath. Words of disbelief  dance on your lips before speaking. “You did not.” She tilts her head like a curious puppy. Who am I even talking to?

“What do you mean?” And just like that she’s whisked away by a guy in a suit of whom you do not recognize. Your jaw clinches in a desperate attempt to keep your cool, wondering what the hell is going on.

Realization

Besides the surprise of seeing Emily, your first day went great. Everyone kept checking up on you and you couldn’t tell if it was because they were trying to be friendly, excited to have a new teammate, or nervous of your background. “She used to work for the FBI Human Resources Branch.” You heard the skinny one tell Morgan when they thought you weren’t listening.

JJ and Penelope invited you out for drinks but all you really wanted to do was lay in your bed with a face mask and a bag of chips. Waving a farewell to the blonde women and head to your car, but a few feet away you feel a presence. You quickly loop around in search of the energy with your hand on the top of your gun. “Woah woah.” Emily holds her hands up in surrender.

At the realization of who it is you take a breath and clip your gun back in place. You give her a “what the hell look” before straightening your outfit.

“Were you going to shoot me?”

She’s met with wide eyes from your end. “Maybe?! Who sneaks up on someone with a gun?”

“I didn’t ‘sneak’ up on you.”

“Emily, you wear all black and walk like a feather. What were you expecting?” The buried anger is starting showing through.

“Okay,” She does a weird hand movement that kind of looks like she’s trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry. I just thought we could talk.”

“Talk...” You’re not really following.

“Yes, I’d like to talk.”

“Emily what are you asking? I’m lost.”

She take a moment to figure it out before answering. “For a second chance, I’m asking for another shot.”

You uncross your arms at the admission, letting them lazily fall beside you. “Em- I-” She can’t be asking what I think she is. “Its been years. More than a decade has passed since-” The words suddenly die on your lips

“I know,” And it looks like there’s a slight glimmer in her eyes, implying the presence of suppressed tears. “I’d just like to explain.”

“Explain?” You bite, tasting the bitter flavor of annoyance.

“Yes, I at least owe you that.”

And that’s how you ended up here, with her. In a cozy, minimalistic loft at nine in the afternoon with a coffee table separating the two of you.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing to break the silence, and this time it actually sounded sincere. “If I could have explained everything to you back then, I would have.”

You lean forward, closer to her and push the rather large vase off to the side so she has to be vulnerable with you. Nothing to help her hide from herself. At her confused face you lean back in your seat and nod for her to continue.

“My mother was always a difficult woman and although she has gotten better over the years, things were at their worst when she found out how much time I had been spending with you.” The brunette takes a minute before admitting the next part. “She was responsible for your early departure. I tried to stop her, give you more time but she’s relentless.” She waits for your reaction but when met with nothing, she continues. “She threatened me by putting our connection on the line, which in retrospect I now realize was impossible to save. She had already made calls to get you out of the country by the time I could sever what we had. I never wanted to hurt you or end what we shared.”

“And what did we share, Emily?”

Her tongue darts from between her lips, doing that weird little biting thing she’s always done since we’ve known each other. It sparks something in you that you haven't felt in a while. “I think you know. The fact that you still wear the necklace I gave you, bracelet, means you never really forgot.”

“I liked it where I could see it, but Em you could have called, texted even.” 

“I couldn’t I was scared. Then after you left I started to distance myself from everyone and everything was really going downhill.”

“How so?”

“I got mixed up with peer pressure and boys.” This doesn’t sound good. “At one point I did anything I could to fit in.”

“What does that mean?” There’s a moment when a tear wells up on one of her eyes, but not dropping. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I-” She tries to speak but nothing comes out. “I couldn’t tell my mother and the church wasn’t happy with my actions.” It suddenly dawns on you, like a smack in the face. You want to make her stop and just hold her but this needs to come out. “I couldn’t call you because it would hurt too much. I hated myself at that moment more than I ever have.”

“And you haven’t dated since?”

She sniffles and lets out a little laugh at that. “God no, I’ve dated people but I haven't dated another female since. It felt wrong, like I was replacing you or something.”

“You owe me nothing. You were just trying to protect me and I see that now.”

“I knew better, its been so long and when I heard you joined the academy I-”

“Wait, you knew and didn’t say anything?”

“Y/n I couldn’t bring myself to do anything other that attempt to move on.” Silence fills the room and its not the comforting kind. Its the tense, I need to do something, kind.

“Do you feel anything?” You dare to ask.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Were your feelings lost in transit?”

“They froze the day you left, and thawed the day I saw you again. Today.”

“So its not over.”

She appears to contemplate your statement. “No, its not over. We have a chance to start over.”

What now?

.｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*★*･ ･*･'･*:..:*･゜ﾟ･*☆*:. .｡.:*☆

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