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iid-smile · 3 days ago

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★ — usage

content — nagi seishiro x fem!reader, continuation from this post, hurt no comfort, angst, nagi is a piece of s###, like he's bad, nagi insults the reader quite a bit, some profanity, break up

wc — 1.5k

a/n — this is kinda rushed oopsies 🙈 also these a little surprise at the end !

two hours have passed. two hours of hearing nagi's stupid nintendo 3ds, two hours of hearing those same stupid theme songs over and over, and two hours of dread continuously pouring into your heart.

you've tried sniffling to get his attention. nothing. not even a glance to see if you're crying or not. you've tried getting up and going into another room. the sound of shuffling makes you think he's getting up to check on you, only to realise that he's turned from one side to the other on the bedsheets. call it toxic to fake your emotions, but it's way worse to not care whatsoever about what your partner is feeling.

all you needed to do was talk, right? and then this would be over. you'd get over it, and things would go back to normal.

but what can you say? what could you say without tearing up midway through? you could bring up today, or yesterday, or what's happened months ago, if you really wanted to. there's only been one thing repeating in your mind over and over, and that's what he's said two hours ago.

"sei." no response. "sei." and still. "seishiro." you beg for him to say something. out of frustration, you snatch his 3ds from his hands.

a soft gasp escapes him as he groggily stretches out for his device, his hand just inches away from it —exactly where you wanted him to be. for a moment, his eyes remain fixated on the screen, the sounds of the device ringing in his ears, but gradually, nagi drags his gaze up to find yours. "hey... i was usin' that..." normally, you would relish hearing his sleepy voice on a lazy day, but today... today was something different.

"and i'm trying to talk to you, so will you just—" he shifts his gaze, his eyes drifting elsewhere, leaving an air of unspoken tension between you. determined to bridge the gap, you subtly inch closer to his still figure, your heart racing as you attempt to keep him within your line of sight, hungry for a connection that feels just out of reach. "just listen to me. please?" pathetic, having to ask to be listened to.

"mm..." he mumbles.

"you're not—"

"i am."

with a sigh, your shoulders drop. "okay." that's not okay. you shouldn't allow that to happen. swallowing down the knot bubbling in your throat, you continue to speak. "what did you mean when you said you hated me?"

"i never said that." he's lying right through his teeth. either that, or he's managed to forget, to which you know he's not that stupid.

you brush your teeth over your lower lip, holding back the urge to scream at him — scream whatever words come to mind. your arms are crossed, and your legs too. "then what did you say? be honest with me, because we both know that i heard exactly what you said."

"hm?" he attempts to pull off a clueless expression, but you see right through it. once more, nagi shies away from making eye contact. just when you think the truth might forever remain hidden, a flicker of honesty manages to break through the facade. "i said i used to hate you."

"you said you still maybe do."

"...oh?"

"don't 'oh' me. why did you say it?"

"i didn't mean it like that..."

you are filled with disbelief, your mind racing to comprehend the situation. a deep, simmering anger sizzles beneath the surface, clenching your fists as frustration takes hold, leaving you almost absolutely furious.

"what else could you have possibly meant?"

the only sound that filled the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the rapid thumping in your chest. not a word for five minutes.

for those agonizing five minutes, you turned your back on him, not daring to meet his gaze. you were all too familiar with his ways — the charm that masked his manipulative tactics, whether deliberate or not. it was a game he played expertly, and the last thing you wanted was to be drawn into his web of deceit.

yet somehow, he possesses an uncanny ability to captivate you, much like a moth irresistibly drawn to a flame. as you find yourself locked in a gaze with him, his eyes hold an intense yet disarming quality, radiating an expression that seems to shout, 'i’m innocent'.

their depth invites you in, while the softness of his gaze stirs a blend of curiosity and empathy within you, making it hard to look away. will you fall victim to it once again? "don't give me that look..." you mumble.

"baby..." nagi reaches out for you, his head now laid on your lap and his hands around your calves. he always does this, every time he doesn't know how to ask for forgiveness.

"no... sei, please don't." it's hard for you to push him away, caught between wanting to stay and the pain of your own feelings. seeing the frown on his face tugs at your heart's strings in such a way that shouldn't be possible. you can feel the weight of his grip, heavy yet comforting; it pulls at your emotions in a way that’s almost overwhelming. it's so painful to see him so...

...empty?

"seishiro." finally, you manage to position him in a way so that he's somewhat facing you. you take a deep breath in, slowly exhale out, and brush some hairs away from your face out of habit. "i need you to be honest, okay?"

he only nods.

stay calm, stay calm. you can't let him see how you're really feeling. "what do you think about me?"

"honestly?"

"honestly."

"you won't get mad?" uh oh. that seems like a bad sign. still, you push forward, needing the full truth more than anything. maybe you could fix your relationship, or in this case, maybe you could fix yourself.

"i—"

"you're annoying." he abruptly interrupts you, and your eyes widen in surprise. in that instant, it feels as though a dam that has been sealed for years has suddenly burst, unleashing a string of words that flow effortlessly from his lips. each sentence spills out with urgency, as if he can no longer hold back the thoughts that have been swirling inside him. "you talk too much, i hate listening to you talk and you don't know when to shut up."

you sit there and take every word as if you deserve it. you can't even breathe, just staring down at your shaky hands, now starting to become damp with tears.

"stop bothering me right after class, and stop trying to stop trying to hold my hand all the time. it makes me cringe having to tell everyone else you're my girlfriend. and quit calling my name whenever you watch me play. it's embarrassing."

with a trembling breath, your voice falters, cracking like fragile glass as you softly gather the courage to speak. "...don't you have something nice to say?"

"something nice? you're pretty... i guess..."

and that completely broke you.

for all these years, you believed your relationship was filled with trust, never once feeling a hint of doubt about him. you believed wholeheartedly that he liked your endless rambling filling up the silence, or your randomness, or the little quirks that just make you you.

but clearly, that's not the case. it never was.

with tears blurring your vision, you steeled yourself and carefully made your way through his apartment, memories flooding back with each step. you grabbed what little was yours: your phone, charger, and headphones, clinging to these small, faint tokens of familiarity as you prepared to leave. you even abandon the oversized jacket you wore on your way here, which was his.

the red flags, how did you not see them? they were so obvious, and you still chose to ignore them. because he had a pretty face? because he wants to be treated like a fucking baby? you're sure as hell not going to act like his mother, and your sure as hell not going to let him treat you like his other boy toy.

"i'm so done with you." you try to stifle a sniffle, but a couple of tears escape, tracing an unwelcome path down your face. as you fumble with your shoes, your fingers tremble, and you nearly lose your balance more than once, the world around you blurring with each shaky movement. "don't even think about calling me anymore. don't wanna hear your stupid voice anymore..."

not a single hint of protest escaped nagi's lips. he remained perfectly still, his gaze locked onto you as you finally slammed the door shut behind you.

it was embarrassing, having all of his neighbours and him listen to your sobs echo through the hallway as you approach the metal doors, pressing the button multiple times. the wait felt like torture, your body aching to approach his doorstep once more. you enter, your hand on autopilot as you reach for the button right at the bottom.

"why...?" you find yourself whispering to your own reflection in the elevator mirror, dabbing at the tears glistening on your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. "if you didn't like me in the first place, why couldn't you just say so?"

all you did was talk, right? and everything went back to normal. he was no longer in your life, and you weren't in his.

but is that really what you wanted?

yesterday at 16:19

im bored

playyyy

yesterday at 3:27

hey :x

can we talk plz?

today at 13:40

ar u ignoring me?

2 missed voice calls at 13:42

bllk m.list

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lovedrruunk · 2 days ago

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'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part iv]

She's weird, she's creepy, she's a total stalker, and now she's... loitering outside your door...? [part iii]

You paced your living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, teeth chewing the inside of your cheek. You felt like an idiot.

What were you thinking showing up to her house uninvited, banging on her door and shouting her name like a lunatic? No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't help but feel that showing up like you did had been a mistake.

The look in her eye when she opened the door haunted you. It wasn’t anger, not really. It was something else entirely. Fear? Guilt? Whatever it was, you hated that look on her.

You stopped pacing for a moment, your arms falling to your sides as you let out a heavy sigh. What was the point of trying to fix things now? You’d probably just scared her away for good. Why did you always have to push things? You should’ve just left her alone, I mean clearly she didn’t want to be friends.

But then you couldn’t help but wonder: why the hell had she been following you then??

You groaned and flopped onto your couch as your mind raced. It didn’t make any sense. If she didn’t want anything to do with you, why had she gone out of her way to be near you? Why had she constantly stared at you from afar as if she wanted to say something?

None of it added up, and the more you thought about it, the more frustrated you felt. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe she wasn’t following you at all, and you’d just misread the whole situation. But… no. The way she’d looked at you when you confronted her, it was written all over her face. She’d been following you. You were sure of it.

“Ugh.” you groaned, dragging your hands over your face. This was hopeless.

Every time you thought you had a grasp on her, she’d do something to throw you off completely. She was impossible to read, like a puzzle missing half its pieces, or a windup monkey without its gears. And as much as you wanted to forget about it, about her, you couldn’t.

Because deep down, you cared. You hated seeing her so… isolated, so withdrawn. And even if she didn’t want to be friends, even if you’d scared her away, you couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t deserve this.

Pushing yourself off the couch, you started pacing again. You wanted to fix this, to figure out some way to show her that you weren’t just trying to bother her. But how? After the way she’d turned you away, what was the point?

Part of you wanted to march back to her house and try again. But the other part screamed at you to stay put, to not make things worse, to wait until she was ready.

But god did you want to see her.

You huffed again. You felt like a stupid teenage girl kicking her feet and hitting her pillows while whining about her latest highschool crush. You wanted to see her, you wanted to see her so bad it was driving you crazy. It was irrational really. She was a total freak. New in town, avoidant, creepy, and frankly, a little bit of a bitch. All negative traits associated with someone you shouldn’t be seeing. So why did you want to so badly? All your alarm bells were going off but it was hard to tell if they were yelling or singing.

Either way, you decided that this time you wouldn’t be impulsive. You’d choose logic over feeling, because obviously that’s what any other responsible adult would do… obviously. Logic over feeling. Rationality over impulse. It sounded easy in theory, but as you sat there, staring at the blank wall across the room, it felt impossible.

What if she thought you hated her? What if she thought you didn’t care? Or worse, what if she thought you pitied her?

She’d probably slam the door in your face again if she thought for a second you were pitying her. You knew nothing about her yet you couldn’t help but feel like she would be the type.

You groaned, flopping back onto the couch. "This is ridiculous," you muttered to yourself. "I'm ridiculous."

You stayed still for what felt like hours, the only sound you could hear being the faint ticking of the clock. You couldn’t sit here forever, pacing between guilt and worry. But you’d already decided: no more impulsive decisions.

…

So why were you halfway to the door before you even realized it?

Your hand froze on the doorknob. You couldn’t go over there again. What happened to all that logic over feeling talk? Before you could scold yourself and retreat back to the couch, a sound from the other side of the door made you pause.

A shuffle. A creak. The distinct sound of someone sighing.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you wondered if you were hearing things. After a short pause you decided that it wouldn’t hurt to just check, for your own peace of mind if not anything.

Turning the doorknob to quickly open the door, the sight made your breath hitch.

Powder was crouching on your doorstep, looking up at you like a deer in headlights. Her eyes were wide, her hair messy, and she looked just as nervous as you felt.

“You!” You shrieked.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"What... the hell are you doing here?" you managed to ask after a long pause, your voice softer this time so as to not freak her out.

She shot to her feet so fast she almost lost balance, quickly tucking something into her pocket. Her eyes darted to the ground as she fidgeted with her fingers. “I don’t- I wasn’t-”

“You weren’t what? Just crouching on my porch for fun?”

She looked back up at you with a sour expression, her cheeks flushing a bright pink. “I didn’t think you’d open the door!” she blurted out defensively.

“It’s my house!” you said, exasperated.

“I know that!” she snapped back, louder than she intended. Her eyes widened, and her voice softened almost immediately. “I just... I wasn’t ready.”

“For what?” you asked, but she didn’t answer.

The air was heavy and the atmosphere was thick as you waited for her to respond. Her lips parted again as if to say something, but instead, she shook her head and spun on her heel, dropping onto the top porch step with a huff.

You took a minute to look at her. Just a couple minutes ago you were telling yourself to stay away from her, and although you agreed, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for her visit. It felt right, y’know, her being around.

Staring at the back of her messily cut hair, you wondered why she’d dropped by in the first place. Two days ago she was shooing you away like a fly, but now, for whatever reason, she came to you this time. You wondered what changed.

You sighed as you followed her, sitting down a few feet away. Neither of you said anything at first, the silence filled only by the far away sounds of the townsfolk heading home as the sun set.

Finally, you spoke first, your voice quieter this time. “You know, you don't make much sense.”

She didn’t look at you, her eyes fixed on the sidewalk below.

“I know.” she muttered.

“Then help me out.” you said, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “What’s going on here?”

“I... I don’t know.” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to look at her, noticing the way her fists tightened. For someone so closed off, she looked more lost than anything else.

You felt a pang of guilt, and although you knew she'd never stand for being pitied, you couldn't help but feel bad.

“Well...” you said after a moment, leaning back slightly, “whatever it is, there’s no rush.”

She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t say anything, but the fact that she didn’t immediately run away felt like progress.

‘There's no rush’ the phrase replayed in her head for the millionth time. It was just like you to say something like that wasn’t it? Sweet, patient, so sure of yourself. Meanwhile, she felt like her insides were about to explode.

She hated how much she cared about your words, how they lingered in the back of her mind, how they actually managed to reassure her.

“You’re being too nice to me.” she said finally.

“How so?” You asked, keeping your tone light.

She shook her head. “You just are.”

You groaned dramatically. “You’re so confusing.”

She laughed dryly in response.

After a short pause you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees.

“I like being nice to you.” you said simply.

She froze. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“I don’t know how to deal with that.” she admitted finally, her voice small.

“Then don’t” you replied. “Not right now at least.”

Powder looked away, blinking rapidly. She stood abruptly. “I have to go.”

You stood too, subconsciously copying her. “Powder, wait–”

She turned to face you, looking at you fully for the first time since you two sat down, before quickly cutting you off. “Here, this was for you.”

She extended her fist towards you before opening it to reveal a crushed and wilted flower.

You hesitated before accepting it, it was a cute offer but you were more confused than anything. You stared at it for a second before the sound of her boots rushing down the steps caught you off guard.

“H-Hold on!” you called out.

She stopped in her tracks, turning her head slightly to look at you through her peripherals.

“Are you… free tomorrow?”

. . .

it wouldve been real fucking funny if i made her trip and fall down the stairs

ANYWAYS THEYRE SO CUTEEE AWWW (i say as i am the one who wrote it)

TRUSTTTTTTT that PART 5 WILL COME A LOTTT SOONER!!!! updating takes me awhile when im not sure how to go about the story BUT I HAVE RLLY CUTE AND FUN IDEAS FOR THEIR HANGOUT SO WRITING IT WILL BE MUCH EASIER!!!

also posting this on my bday is so funny to me like wow life of a teenage girl

[taglist ( ;´ - `;)!!]

@cattjull @kenqki @powderbomb-jinxed @iamastar @lostdreamingwallflower @errorlovernotfound99 @raven437 @cartalige @poncho-fisch @crushh-existz @slxtcity @jinxslapdog @radioheadfan699 @alduinworldeater11 @dulleyeddreamer @alicenasflowers

[USERS I CANT TAG 4 SUM REASON (◞‸◟；)]

@sacrasm-is-my-form-of-attack @wonylvxv

#DIDJA MISS MEEE?!? >ه<#WHO DAT IN THE BACK WHO DAT IN THE BACKK!??!#jinx x reader #Jinx #jinx arcane #arcane #arcane x reader #jinx arcane x reader #jinx imagine #x reader #series #jinx league of legends #arcane league of legends x reader

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vivaciouscynner · 14 hours ago

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"Over here honey!" She, the sorceress, gave a little wave to her. She tried not to wince. The cage had no floor; just the narrow bars to barely get a foothold and it was getting far less comfortable to stay in that position. But hey, she and her adventuring friends with her weren't bathing in acid. Instead, they bathed in the heated glow of her wife's rage. The fires swirled around her. Only in the short flickers around her shoulders could the party make out her face.

Scorn was only a word before. It was She that gave it true meaning.

She stared at the wizard after acknowledging her wife with a slow nod. Her eyes glowed a brilliant white and she howled like a banshee. A scream of terror that it jolted everyone in the cage. The wizard threw up a barrier just before getting hit but it couldn't hold and he was knocked to the floor.

"Is- Is your wife some kind of god?!" asked the terror stricken rogue.

The sorceress smiled, almost dreamily. "Something like that. She's a Djinni."

The fighter spoke after soiling himself, "What? Did you wish to marry her as one of your wishes?"

"I'm a little offended. You think I'm so unworthy? I'm just as powerful as her."

The wizard got up, took his staff, and stamped it hard onto the stone floor. He summoned golems. Large, heavy, stone golems rose from the floor. It was only two, but they towered over the ten foot Djinni.

The fighter scoffed, "Oh really? As powerful as her you say? Aren't you here stuck in this cage with us lot? Or are you just a figment of my imagination?"

The rogue said, "Is this really the time, you two?"

The sorceress tsk'd and shook her head, "Now he's done it. All the intelligence and none of the wisdom it seems. Doesn't he realize my wife just burst through the stone walls of this castle? What does he think stone golems are gonna do?" She turned to the rogue, "Did you have somewhere to be?" Then the fighter, "You know well I can't use my spells inside the castle. Area of effect, heard of it? What, you want me to evoke meteor swarm, right here? Want to see how well that turns out for the two of you?"

The Djinni expanded her swirling fire around one golem and the rage did the rest. The stone quickly glowed a fiery red, crusted in black, and turned to powder. She then simply leapt through the other one, tearing a hole the size of herself through its torso.

The sorceress bit her lip at the sight of it all. The fighter asked, "You couldn't use a lesser spell?" It sounded more sincere and less cocky than his previous questions. So she answered just as sincerely, "Nah. Well I do, but the wizard's pretty powerful too. Nothing lesser would have hit. Or if it did, not much would have been done to him. Little shit. He's about to get what's comin' to him though."

The wizard trembled, just for a moment. He eyed the levers in the floor by the wall just a little ways from. The very same levers that would release the cage into the vat of acid. He scowled, "Ensure my safety or in the acid they go to die! You hear me wench! Don't you dare come closer! Even a breadth closer and you ensure their demise! Now back off!"

The sorceress said, "Now..., now you guys may want to look away. This. Won't. Be. Pretty." And then under her breath she said, "Now I almost pity him. She covered her ears and closed her eyes. Tight.

The sounds of his agony could still be heard through her hands. He wasn't screaming. It was more like wailing. And the bones. The sorceress only knew she was allowed to remove her hands and open her eyes again when she felt the cage descend, slowly and carefully, away from the acid pools. And the faces of her companions was evident that they did not heed her warning.

The iron bars pulled away like they were wet noodles and her Djinni scooped her up in embrace. She swung her in her big arms and peppered her in gentle kisses. "What were you thinking? How did you even get into this mess? You?"

The sorceress tried to speak, but she was still being peppered with love and could not answer. She eventually said, "I'm sorry baby, I beat the fool at his own game, he got angry, I made friends and they were with me, I couldn't attack without hurting them. I weighed my options and risked getting trapped and called you. You understand don't you? I did the right thing didn't I? I hope I wasn't too much of a burden. I'm sorry."

The djinni's eyes eventually drifted to the terror stricken friends, "It seems your friends watched. Did you not tell them to look away?"

"I did, I swear! They just didn't believe me." She turned to them, "Come on, it's not that bad. He's generally in the same area at least. I've seen worse. Bits of them in one area, others in... others."

They kept saying over and over in their disbelief, "He did it to himself? Why would he have done that to himself?"

The djinni answered, "Oh that? I just showed him a vision of what I'd do if he didn't." She smiled plainly and let her wife down, but did not refrain from hugging her from behind. The sorceress kissed her biceps as if she had a silly habit of doing so every time her wife hugged her this way.

"You guys are good right? Let's grab his loot and go!"

An adventuring party is in a cage suspended over acid the wizard clears his throat "I just sent a message to my wife she should be here to save us soon." "Wait your married?" Said the rouge "more importantly what is she gonna." The paladin is interrupted by a massive explosion.

#writers #writing prompts #writeblr #just a quick thing #nothing special #The sorceress freed the djinni and couldn't stop flirting #it made the djinni laugh

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secriden · 2 days ago

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This line. God, this line! It has been eating me up inside for 2 days now, because let's not forget, this line isn't about love, it's about trust. And that has implications that make me want to scream.

It's a direct reference to this moment earlier in the episode:

At the start of this discussion, Style and Fadel still have a kind of playful air about their conversation:

Style: Oh? Not even me? Fadel: You're at 80% at best. I feel like you're hiding something from me in the 20%.

In this exchange, though, there's a sense that Fadel is issuing a challenge, like there's something specific which Style can do to gain Fadel's full trust. And while Style knows there are things he cannot (yet) reveal to Fadel, I think a part of him is determined to be as honest as he can be, which is why he issues a challenge of his own by asking for more specificity:

Style: What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?

Part of this question is a simultaneously inquisitive and deflective - What (and why) do you think I'm hiding (something) from you? - but there's also a moment after Style finishes speaking where he stills and goes quiet that feels... genuine, weighty. Or, as @airenyah has pointed out in her meta on Style in episode 4, the "grounded[ness]" in Style's demeanour is a signal that Style means what he's saying in the moment. Maybe about his own desire to be worthy of Fadel's trust, maybe about how he genuinely does want this relationship to be real in whatever way that matters to Fadel.

I think Fadel sensed that too, because the moment looses all the lightheartedness it had before. Fadel pauses, and then gets a look on his face that just... breaks my heart. There's a sombreness there, like he knows he's going to have to say something that makes him sad. Fadel looks away, and then down, before he seems to steel himself and says:

Fadel: It'll never happen. No matter how much you love someone, I just don't believe that you can completely lay yourself bare in front of them.

Fadel says this like it's fact. Like what he's expressing is something foundational and true and irrefutable. It's not even about his doubt in Style's honesty, because this statement has no qualifiers or conditions put on it to connect it to Style. Rather this is what Fadel fundamentally believes about relationships and trust: he finds the very concept of being fully known and still accepted an impossibility.

Sure, maybe this is because of the falling out (or betrayal or disappearance) associated with the former lover; but I also think it might be because Fadel is acutely aware not only that he's hiding a rather big and dark secret (not to mince words, but: actual literal premeditated murder), but also about what it implies about Fadel. Because being able to kill another human, coldly and clinically and without remorse, takes a certain type of person. Because, yes, Fadel has lived through an absolutely harrowing and traumatising event (his parents' murder), but it's also undeniable that it changed him. Because there's something about Fadel that twisted dark and which he never quite got back. There's an anger, a hurt that colours every moment of his life; that enables him to look a man in the eyes, smile politely, and pull a trigger.

And at this point in their relationship, Fadel's understanding of Style is that he's... well, kind of innocent. Especially in comparison to Fadel and Bison, and even Kant.

Style, who easily reveals facts about his life which Fadel already knows (winning a car tuning competition), making Fadel doubt his own instincts about Style hiding secrets. Style, who also reveals the things Fadel doesn't know, like the tender and secret pain of a mother lost to cancer (which, now that I think about it, Fadel may also know) and his worries about a father who "lost his bearings for a bit" (which he probably doesn't). Style, who tries to comfort Fadel in his own loss by offering a safe space and a sympathetic ear.

Style, who doesn't just see Fadel for his tragedy, but is asking to be given the chance to accept all of Fadel as a person. Style, who not only wants but has the capacity, to be the only person Fadel needs to rely on. Style who, despite the sea of differences between them, understands Fadel on a level that is so very foundational.

I'm going to slightly segue and mention something that may not resonate with everyone, but really hit me in the gut this episode: because I lost my father when I was 16 after he battled cancer for 2 painful years. And this revelation about Style has totally shifted and coloured everything Style has done in a new light for me. Because not only does this totally explain Style's sometimes almost stubbornly childish demeanour (it's common in adults who've had to 'grow up' too early), but also why Style shows seemingly random flashes of insight and maturity when they are most crucial. Notably, Style has this almost instinctive sense of when he needs to back off a sore point with Fadel that I couldn't quite put my finger on until this episode.

I've seen a few jokes about Style's awkward subject change, but I've actually got a friend who I hold very dear to my heart who was one of the only people to give me a sense of normalcy and comfort when my dad was on his last few days and then at his funeral. And part of that was the instinctive way she would know when I needed to just. Not be a grieving daughter for a few minutes. To get a small respite from the overwhelming hopelessness and sense of impending loss. To get a moment to breathe and gather my strength, because knowing I was never going to see my dad again, or hear his voice, or hold his hand was tearing me apart back then. Sometimes she'd talk to me about college drama, sometimes she'd introduce a new kpop video to me, sometimes she'd just ask me what I wanted to eat and take me to go have a meal with her. And sometimes there really just isn't anything else to say other than "I'm sorry." Nothing you say - nothing you can say - is going to ever, ever make this grief go away, and in most cases, it was better when people (especially those who couldn't really understand) didn't try.

And I think if you look at Fadel very closely, there's a moment of genuine surprise (Fadel wasn't expecting the subject change at all) and then... something that looks like fondness mixed with exhausted relief. Because I don't think Fadel was ready to talk about his parents yet. This was honesty he wasn't ready to give Style, mostly prompted because Style himself had willingly been so vulnerable that a part of Fadel wanted to reciprocate. But further down that path lies not only his darkest memories, but also the connection to the part of his life he is not willing to share with Style yet. So this subject change is a relief, it's a blessing, but it's also Style knowing when he shouldn't push any further with Fadel's fragile heart.

Which brings me back to how well the episode's theme of trust (both deserved and undeserved) was woven in this episode. This is true on multiple levels and characters but I'm not even going to attempt to touch Kant in this post because... Lord, that is beyond me at the moment. Someone else needs to do that, pretty please, so I can reblog it and scream.

It starts, somewhat unexpectedly, with Fadel asking for entrance into the intimate spaces of Style's life.

So, this episode was not about Fadel's fear of his own feelings, desires, or even affection for Style - that appears to be fully addressed in episode 4. I think that's why we see Fadel be so physically affectionate and indulgent of Style in this episode. He's come to terms with his lust for Style's body (hence his comfort in initiating sex), he's accepted Style as his boyfriend and so can enjoy Style's playful teasing (still reluctantly, but Fadel is still an introvert even if he's mostly enjoying Style's rambunctious nature), and give into Style's (and Bison's and Kant's) cajoling with relatively little fuss.

He's even comfortable toying with the edges of revealing his darker and more sinister side by reminding Style implicitly about how violent Fadel has the potential to be. Recall that Fadel knows Style knows some of his capacity for violence; he just doesn't know how very thoroughly Style is aware of the full scale of this truth. It does help that Style evidences no actual fear and, in fact, looks positively euphoric. Like, buddy, pal, dearest one... please control yourself.

And yet something very, very telling is the way the show makes it a point to depict Fadel very deliberately getting drunk during the double date. Even before the date has started, Fadel looks to be about half a beer in and we see him constantly drinking, drinking, drinking during the whole date. From the conversation about trust he has with Style while Kant and Bison are being off key and adorable about it, to after Kant leaves and Bison gets worried. And we've seen Fadel cope with emotional and mental distress with alcohol before, so we know that Fadel is internally fighting some kind of very intense battle even as he is also very clearly enjoying moments with Style on this date (most notably when they're dancing by the bowling lanes and when Style asks him to go home with him).

So here's my take: rather than being about love, this is about Fadel fighting to hold onto his own philosophy on relationships and trust. Because as much as I do believe Fadel believes he's telling the truth when he tells Style that 100% trust is "impossible", I think it's clear that's not what he wants.

What he wants is to finish this last job so that the only thing he can't be honest about with Style will finally stop being a factor in his life. What he wants is to fully and completely reciprocate the openness Style seems to be giving Fadel. What he wants is to switch off his brain and let his heart lead for once, to stop fighting a battle he has no desire to win anymore, only he can't. Trust (not love) is Fadel's final frontier, and one which he can't quite give up in spite of himself.

Which is why I think Fadel intentionally gets himself drunk here. Because he wants to let his guard down around Style. He wants to open himself fully, he wants to "lay himself bare" for Style, he wants Style to know the full truth and accept him anyway - and he gets so close, but can't quite get there - because he doesn't know that Style already has.

When Style says this, Fadel thinks it's empty words, not knowing that Style has long passed the bar Fadel thinks is insurmountable. And just like Style was able to offer safety and reassurance to the vulnerability Fadel was showing in episode 4, Style instinctively gets to the core of Fadel's darkest fears again:

Style: One day, I'll be your 100%.

This isn't (just) a promise that Style will wear Fadel's stubbornness down, or that Style will be worthy of Fadel's 100% (which, already, has me in tears, ngl). Beyond that, this is Style promising Fadel isn't ruined for this; that it isn't too late, that whatever hurts and wounds Fadel has can be made whole again. That the kind of honest and all-encompassing and unconditional trust which Fadel says is impossible can, in fact, be his. That Fadel still has the capacity to trust and be trusted the way he so desperately, painfully longs for.

I know a lot of people have said Style in this episode is writing cheques he has no ability to honour, but I think it's more layered than that. Because in a very significant and profound way, Style is wholly deserving of Fadel's trust. Because in all the ways that Fadel has ever known he should want, Style actually IS worthy of his trust. Style knows the truth Fadel is hiding, knows what this man is capable of, knows the danger of being in his arms, knows the likely nonexistent future Fadel has to offer him -- and wants him anyway. Style is a man who would stare into Fadel’s darkness and reach out first. Strip away the complication of Kant being blackmailed and dragging Style into his mission, and Style is literally perfect for Fadel. He is exactly what Fadel wants (and possibly has wanted for a very long time). He is, in fact, exactly what Fadel needs to ever experience anything beyond the shadow of a life he's had so far.

But oh, the cruel narrative means that Style is also, simultaneously, painfully undeserving of Fadel's trust; and this is something Style is very much aware of. I think that's why he's trying so very hard to be worthy in all the other ways he can be. Style's awareness of what Fadel is hiding enables Style to (counterintuitively) be completely honest about his feelings for and about Fadel even as he cannot reveal his motivations. So he gives Fadel as much honesty as he can: offers the vulnerability of his own pain and hurts; the comfort of his true understanding and acceptance.

And just as Fadel's vulnerability in the abandoned factory was met with Style choosing a form of physical connection that prioritised Fadel's pleasure (it's made very clear that Style is jerking Fadel off and that all his focus in that moment was on Fadel, not his own pleasure), so too is this moment met with Style very intentionally choosing to worship Fadel's body with all the tenderness and genuine emotional weight that Style wanted Fadel to have in their first time in the storeroom.

Because, crucially, this was Style giving Fadel the chance to lay himself at least physically bare. This is the closest either of them can get to full honesty with the secrets they both are keeping. It's why Style tries so very hard to show the care and adoration and genuine feelings he has for Fadel. Why he makes sure that the vulnerability of Fadel getting himself as drunk and as relaxed and as trusting as Fadel can allow himself to be is tied only to gentleness and tenderness and pleasure.

Because Style actually knows that Fadel can't (and shouldn't) trust him in the way Fadel truly wishes to.

And as much as I believe that Style genuinely means this from the bottom of his heart, the horrifying full truth is that it is Style that has the metaphorical knife hovering over Fadel's chest. He is the one with the capacity to actually give Fadel a new scar that would truly matter. He is, in fact, the only one Fadel wants to fully trust -- and this, along with Style's compromised heart, makes it so that the circumstances will doom them both.

#this episode broke me in ways i wasn't ready for because of style's backstory so fair warning there's no level of objectivity whatsoever #i'm sure much as already been said about this line and this moment and i'm sorry if i'm just repeating someone else (please let me know!)#i haven't had the time or physical OR emotional capacity to actually read any meta on episode 5 #so i apologise in advance if i screwed up anything but these are just my (somewhat disjointed and very emotionally driven) thoughts #the heart killers #the heart killers the series #fadelstyle #style sattawat #fadel #thk ep 5 #thk meta #i understand why dunk said this scene was so hard and weighty and was his favourite now #(or at least i think this was the one he means?? I vaguely remember an interview where dunk talked about them talking #before they have sex and how emotionally charged it was)#i'll have to go through my tags and see if i talked about it #but either way our boys both did such excellent jobs this episode #as they have been doing every episode but each time i really am just... newly awed by their talent and my adoration for them grows <3 #joongdunk #joong archen #dunk natachai #<my posts>

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1920sladydectective · 20 hours ago

Text

Best Friend's Mother Ch.6 (Finale) 6.8K MDNI 18+

Here she bloody is, my darlings!

All done, finally, giving me room to write even more Ambessa stuff. Next stop Professor Medarda!

That being said, I've loved writing this story and feel so honoured by the reception it has received. Thank you especially to @shinyshayminflower for the initial prompt, @uselessbard1031 for the endless support and @chocolate-quotes for the stunning cover art which I adoreddddddddddd.

Love you all, let me know what you think!

Warnings: Degradation, Name Calling, Overstimulation kinda? Lots of alcohol idk I'm British and this is set at Christmas okay.

Chapter 6:

You’d failed at the first hurdle, the first second, the truest and largest fuck up possible of a New Year’s resolution. Bubbles fizzed in your blood, common sense popping like a thousand little sparks.

She tasted good, like whisky and regret and those tiny chocolate puddings on the trays at the party. The party you couldn’t quite remember or reconcile, the party that faded to blurring noise as she consumed you.

Ambessa’s mind was screaming at her. This was not how she’d intended the evening to go. Rather the opposite. She was going to kiss one of Cassandra’s uptight friends, unwind them a bit and then take her drunken gaggle of children home.

Instead she’d been ripped to shreds by her daughter and was now eating the very forbidden (but no longer?) fruit she had tried to avoid.

You pulled away merely to breathe, but it was enough, like a shock of cold water. Tears, hot and angry sprung into your eyes almost immediately.

“What was that?” You snarled, gulping in air.

“I-“ Ambessa coughed slightly, “A mistake,”

You scoffed, shoving her, “You can say that again,”

“No,” She backtracked, muddled, “I just meant-“

“Do me a favour and fuck off, okay?” You wiped your mouth viciously with your sleeve, panic heavy in your heart as you rushed past her without another word. Drunk and distressed, you made your way into a random corner and stayed there.

You’d tell Mel in the morning, you told yourself with trembling hands, but right now it would be too much.

Ambessa was having the most tiring evening ever. Nothing was happening in the right order, as if she’d been given the smaller part of every wishbone in existence.Her mouth was a villain, intent on ruining everything. Glancing in the reflection of one of Cassandra’s crystalline statutes, she saw her massacred face, red smudges everywhere.

“Well,” Cassandra Kiramman’s smug voice rang out, “That was a damn sight better than seeing you kiss my child like last year,”

Muscled shoulders seized, wide golden eyes meeting cool grey ones, “Lovely party,”

“I think that’s the first time in twenty years you’ve said that,” She snorted, “I needn’t lecture you about how stupid that was, we both remember what happened with Maddie,”

“She isn’t Maddie,”

“Evidently,” A click of teeth, an outstretched hand holding cloth “I’ll see you on the 14th, I can take your money and your secrets then,”

Ambessa sighed, wiping her face of lipstick and taking a regrouping breath. There was little to do but sober up and figure out a battle plan. Divide her stupidity and hopefully conquer her love. Or some other battle analogy she was too pissed to think of. “Thank you,”

“There’s no need for that,” She smiled, rolling her eyes at her friend, “You’re hosting the women’s luncheon in February,”

Fuck.

You were sitting in a fancy taxi, a snoozing Mel on your shoulder as Kino rambled about the artwork in Caitlyn’s house. You didn’t care about the fact that the frames were worth as much as the art, or that some of them had taken years to find. You didn’t care about anything at all really, save the brooding woman in front of you. She seemed so cold, so distant, and you found that it did not suit her. You’d never be rid of her, that understanding had set in as you stumbled out of the car and into the front porch. She was like Japanese knotweed, strong and thriving and made to rot the very foundations of life. Here you were, a three time offender of succumbing to her, despite your morals and your strength and your hatred.

Deft fingers attempted to grab your wrist as Kino and Mel waltzed arm in arm up the staircase, but her hold found nothing but air. A snap, a growl, something animalistic as you trailed quickly after your friends, the third of the good little wolves and nothing more.

Sleep was easy due to alcohol, though all it really did was lock you in dreams. Tender kisses and bitter words fighting for the spotlight, leaving your mind a flashing drunken strobe. Sweaty, distressed turning and rolling until dawn beckoned and you lay shivering in the fetal position. No amount of fancy heating systems could rid your bones of the chill, heavy limbs freezing you in place.

It took several hours and a minor pity party to make it into a different pair of less sweaty pyjamas, another hour to make it downstairs and fifteen seconds for your hopes of sorting this out as soon as possible to be crushed.

A series of texts from Mel. Mel and Kino had left twenty minutes ago, a sibling breakfast tradition you had been omitted from due to your lack of appearance. Fuck. Just her, somewhere, lurking.

The kitchen was safe, paprika crisps settling your stomach as you brewed some longjing tea. A plan was formed, tell Mel, pack your shit and stay with your cousin until the housework finished later this week. It was solid, grounding and allowed you to get the fuck out of this weird fantasy land. Nothing felt tangible here, all consequences smashing down as soon as the spell of the upper class echelons was shattered by travelling 20 miles north. You holed yourself up in one of the spare sitting rooms, avoiding where she thought you’d be in favour of unfamiliar cream sofas and animal artwork.

It wasn’t enough.

Tentative footsteps, her arrival heralded by Mina, like a slow marching procession. There was no escape. One way in, one way out. The oak door clicked shut softly. You did not, would not, give her the satisfaction of looking up.

Your name on her lips, measured and calm, as the sofa to your right dipped with her body weight. A loud clunk, your gaze meeting a bottle of artisan Olive Oil.

“Olive branch?” She muttered, “We were out of breadsticks,”

You looked at it, still not her, nose twitching. Her charm, though flavoured now with hesitancy, was viscous and wrong as it lapped at your skin. “That implies there’s a conversation to be had here, and there isn’t,”

“Look at me,” Soft but impatient.

Your eyeline did not move. Her arrogance astounded you.

“I was thinking-”

“No, Mrs Medarda,” You snapped, formality and fury, making the cat jump, “There is nothing you can say, I am going to tell Mel and then I’m going to get away from you, as fast as possible,”

“A tad dramatic,” Cryptic, passive smile, “Mel knows, darling,”

“What?” This had you meeting her gaze, “You told her?”

“Not yet,” A sniff, “Not exactly,”

“Well then she doesn’t fucking know, you twat,”

Ambessa’s lips upturned slightly, “She doesn’t know the specifics, but she knows my motivations,”

“Motivations?” You scoffed, “Your untameable pride and sex drive you mean?”

Ambessa, despite having spent most of the night replaying every interaction you had ever shared under the rosy haze of infatuation, had yet to find a way to piece together her confession. Part of her wanted to wax lyrical, a modern day poet speaking in nothing but nonsense and flowers. But your impatience, borne of hurt and exhaustion, hung heavy above her. She was the one fearing the guillotine’s blade now, she should have learned from history that the revolution always comes in the end. And here it was, the revolt of her own mutinous heart.

“Well?” Her silence unsettled you, those carved brows scrunched inwards, as you fought a mounting urge to backhand her.

“Not quite that,” She muttered, “Wouldn’t have bothered with the olive oil if it was just sex, dear,”

Your eyes rolled, pushing off of the sofa, body fleeing before your blood curdled in your veins.

She grabbed your arm, pulling you back down with a thud, “Stop I-” gasped air, “I’m trying to be honest here,”

“You’re speaking like a Dickens novel and I’m supposed to take you seriously? Three Ghosts come and slap you in the face? Or some New Year’s resolution, is it?” You yank your hand back, skin fizzing and yearning for the calloused warmth to return.

“Yes, actually,”

“What was your Christmas past like then?”

“Troubled,” She quipped, rolling her eyes at you, “It is a resolution, one I indeed to stick to,”

A laugh, grating against your throat, “Didn’t take you for the type, you don’t seem in a rush to change anything about your life,”

“Stop being childish and listen,” She snapped.

“You have two minutes,” You spat, “And then I’m leaving,”

“Two minutes isn’t even enough time to boil an egg,”

“Ambessa,”

Muscles tensed. Fine. Fucking Hell. “I’ve been bad to you,” There, well done Ambessa, a start. Accountability, the sharp blade you must crush within your palm.

Tart and hard, an unripe cherry between your teeth, shock bloomed. There was nothing particularly reassuring about her words, but you jumped all the same.

“I abused your kindness and took advantage of you,” How lovely and romantic, the muted whites of the room shifting to morose greys.

“Old news, cemented about nine kisses ago,”

“I know that,” It was sharper than she’d intended, a sigh rattling out, “I know,”

“If you know, why are we having this conversation?” You grabbed the olive oil, waving it about, “What kind of weak, spindly branch is this?”

“You’re so pedantic, must you have everything spelled out for you?!” She growled, tenderness foreign on her tongue, “The I’m in love with you kind,”

A spell, like a muffling blanket of snow, enveloped the room. Such a tender, sweet truth, with all the certainty and promise of the apple of Eden. Was she the snake or Eve, you could hardly tell. You sat, in stasis, as she swallowed.

FIve minutes. Ten. A brutal, endless fifteen.

“Don’t be cruel,” Acid burned in your mouth, tears smarting your eyes, “Don’t wave that about,”

Snip. Your words cutting Ambessa’s newly found heartstrings, “I wouldn’t,”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“No,” It was firm.

“And that’s what Mel knows?” You asked, eyes narrow. You didn’t believe her, couldn’t, wouldn’t. Really, really shouldn’t.

“She insisted upon it, screamed at me in the Kiramman’s bathroom,”

“Wait,” Awe bubbled between your ribs, “Last night?”

A begrudging nod, that soft half smile that made you melt. She loved your lip twitches of surprise, your mouth turning over words you couldn’t vocalise.

“Why?”

“She sort of stumbled into it, as did I,” A pause as she pulled a red wine bottle and glasses from seemingly nowhere, “Do you mind?”

“Yes, I do,” You snarked, flicking the cork onto the floor, “But by all means, don’t let that stop you,”

“I won’t,”

You took the glass she offered all the same, settling into the sofa with renewed confidence, petulant hands spilling drops of burgundy onto the cream sofa. “Stumbled, you said?”

Ambessa crossed her legs, Malbec coating her tongue, “She was..frustrated that I had not distanced myself enough from you,”

“I noticed a distinct difference,”

“That’s what I said,”

“Not taking your side,” You swished your hand for her to continue.

“She said I was selfish and many other things, another character assassination,” Heavy chug, “But she wanted a reason, a cause,”

“She always does,” Anticipation was building now, possible half truths and sweet words lingering just out of reach, “It’s the only reason she forgave me, because of how I felt,”

Ambessa nodded, eyes distant, “Did you know I find it harder to sleep now?”

What? You were hungover and hair of the expensive vintage dog was not quite cutting it. Speak plainly you maddening cow, your mind cried. Instead, “Pardon?”

“I miss the weight of you on my chest, and the coldness of your toes on my calves,” She muttered, memory easier than big declarations, “It’s what I thought of when Mel asked me to prove it, to prove it was..”

Monster. Cannibal. Villain. She was gnawing at your bones, words like ambrosia to all the battered, tired shades of you that sat before her. You missed that too, had mourned it like so many other little, luxurious sweetnesses.

“That’s still a physical desire,” You rationalised, lips stained with wine.

A grunt, “Do you need more?”

A nod. Several. Only confirmational overkill would do here.

“I-” Her hand twitched, “find myself trying to force an affinity for apple tea,”

“You hate it,”

“But it tastes of you,” She said, “Sometimes it’s all I can do to stave off the craving,”

“So you miss my mouth? Physical.”

Ambessa pouted, heavy hand overpouring another glass, “What do you want from me? I’ve already said it,”

You laughed, in spite of it all, “I want to know what you’re feeling, not what you miss or crave or imagine,”

It seemed to rent her asunder, her feelings etched in memories, stuck far away from words. Love was one, but it was vulnerable and rough against her tongue. It had only come out via happenstance, sleep deprivation and growing panic. Affection hung in the background, and devotion sat like oil on her smooth skin. How was she to wield them? A great axe pulling her into herself, straining underdeveloped muscles.

“It’s a bit like quicksand,” Her tone was unsteady, “It’s eating me whole,”

“What is?”

“Love,” She snarled, as if it was obvious, eyes ever so slightly glazed.

“The more you fight, the more you sink?”

She nodded, a heady relief in your understanding, light at the end of her confusing tunnel, “Exactly that,”

You downed your glass, “Then I’ll throw you a stick, help you out,” a dismissive sniff, “I hate you,”

“No you don’t,” No hesitation, “You fell before I did, Sweet Girl,”

“And look where that got me,”

“But we’re in it together now,”

“There is no together, Ambessa,” You were sinking, she would not be proven right, “Your love is as dangerous as your indifference, wolves do not cradle their prey tenderly,”

“You aren’t prey,” It was a cry, angry and indignant, as her hands found yours.

“Then why am I covered in your bitemarks?”

She grumbled, “I think we’ve used the full extent of this metaphor, darling,”

“Metaphors, jibs, cold truths, however you spin it, you are an emotionally immature mess,”

“Mel called me an emotionally impotent bitch,” She said, interlocking her warm hands with your trembling ones, “You were kinder about it,”

“I’m always kinder about everything,” You replied, tightening your grip.

“It’s one of the things I love about you,”

“Stop saying that!”

“What?” She smiled, something giving way inside her, “Love? That I love you?”

“I-Yes,” You were chest deep now, thick wet sand eating you, “I don’t know what to do with that, with you,”

Ambessa sat, rhythmically stroking your knuckles, as her head leaned closer to yours, “You let me earn you, my darling,”

Thick sludge, stealing your breath away now, “Earn me?”

“Will you let me try?” Her voice was molasses now, pushing you down into the very bottom of the pit, her brain finally catching up with her body, “Words fuelled by action?”

“L-like date me? And woo me?” Your eyes were fluttering, heart a schism of fear and fancy.

She hummed in confirmation, free hand tucking some of your glitter crusted hair behind your ear, gaze soft.

“Doesn’t seem very characteristic, Ambessa,”

“Yes, well,” A humorous sigh, “You’ve clearly made me sick, some kind of spell or curse,”

You smacked her arm, a nonsensical laugh slipping out. She was ridiculous and stupid and images of her sending you flowers or taking you mini golfing came into your mind unbidden.

“Is that a yes, my darling?”

“What does Mel think?”

“I think you should ask her,” Ambessa’s voice wrapped around you, “Regardless of this, I will not monopolise on your relationship with her,”

“I think you’re suffering from head injury,” She was perfect, she was handing you your dreams on a silver platter, so why couldn’t you take it? “I think I need some time,”

She nodded, ignoring the dark growl in her chest, “There’s no timeline,” Actually, the timeline was she wanted to be between your legs right now, but it seemed the clocks were confused.

With an odd, robotic stroke to her cheek, you stumbled out of the room and back up the stairs. Ignoring your door, you curled into Mel’s room, allowing yourself to be engulfed by frilly bed sheets. She’d find you later and you could have a chat.

Find you she did, snoring and pale in her bed, with wine stained lips and tear stained cheeks. Hungover limbs crawled around you, kissing your forehead.

“Babe!” It was a happy shout, as you flinched awake.

“That was not the only way to do that,”

“It’s the way I chose,”

The conversation that transpired was as follows. You bared your snotty, shattered soul and called her mother all the cruel, loving things you could think of and she nodded sagely whilst stroking your hair. She then decided to take her mother’s side, and say that you should definitely pursue a relationship if you loved her, as if it was that simple. You were now battering her shoulder with a candy cane shaped cushion.

“Hitting me isn’t going to change my answer,”

“It’s not normal to tell your friend to date your mother,” You cried, “The only sane person in this family is Kino,”

“Really?”

A memory of him drizzling a chicken wing with melted chocolate the night before returned, “Christ, okay you’re all nuts!”

“You still haven’t told me what you want,” Mel murmured, taking the candy cane from your grasp, “Just that she’s evil and you feel weak when she smiles, which honestly urgh,”

Uncertain, jittering hands tug at a strand of hair, “I don’t think I know,”

Silence, her hand on your shoulder, as you sorted through the bombed out craters in your mind. Each kiss, fight, and confession had made its mark and the rubble was hard to decipher.

“I think I want to exist a bit, before I commit to anything,”

“You have been through a lot, babe,” Mel was so gentle, you adored her more than she could ever ever know, “Maybe just be you? Mum’ll wait,”

“Will she?” That was your hope and your fear.

“She’ll have to if she’s serious, and if she doesn’t then fuck her, you can find another fish, preferably one I’m not related to,”

“I love you,”

“Damn right,” She kissed your head, “Now can we watch TV or something, my head hurts,”

Three days passed, and she was surprisingly normal. There was no forced affection or ultimatums, just the same smile; considerate and mischievous. You were grateful, the space confirming what you’d said to Mel. You needed to be you, away from the magic and madness of this house, and only then would you really know.

When you told her as much, firelight flickering in the library on your last evening, she let out a long sigh. The grating, dull pain in her heart intensified, but with it so did her plan.

The last dinner felt stupidly biblical, final and massive, as though you may never return. A veritable feast, overflowing plates and glasses, as even Rictus joined you for the meal. Kino was a jester of epic proportions, breaking more than one glass in his pursuit of a punchline. Ambessa sat, quiet but merry, against the carved mahogany chair of the dining room. Mel, as ever, was the master of pictures. You dreaded the thought of the costs to develop that much film, though you placed bunny ears behind Kino’s head as you grinned into the flash all the same. Rictus, though, was the real diamond in the rough of the evening. Strong and well mannered, with your exact sense of humour. He was quiet and yet seemed to fill every silence that threatened to hurt you. You felt sorry to have overlooked him in a way, leaning a heavy head against his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you,”

“Miss my endless free labours?” He joked, a gruff voice above your ear.

“Miss your sanity,” You said, “Miss your friendship,”

“Well, I’m only ever a phone call away,” He replied, “Us furniture have to stick together,”

You laughed, bright and true, as he dolloped another mountain of tiramisu onto your plate.

Slowly, but surely, you all retired to bed, a holiday well spent and a heavy desire to return to normal weighing in the air.

The next morning, as he bundled your endless possessions into Mel’s boot, Rictus called you over.

“Something the matter?”

“Kid,” A sternness, “You’re going to be alright?”

You snorted, “I told you I’d keep in touch, where’s this come from? Delirious from all of Mel’s handbags and shoes?”

“I love Ambessa Medarda very much,” He said out of nowhere, hand stroking your arm, “Don’t let her wants eclipse yours,”

“What?” What the fuck was he on about?

“Speak of the devil, and she appears,” He muttered, stepping away without a further word. Bastard.

Ambessa squeezed Mel with all her might, an acceptance blossoming in a relationship filled with shards of glass and broken promises. “Look after yourself, work hard,”

“Party harder,” Mel muttered, “I know Mum, I’ll see you at Easter,”

She climbed into the preheated Land Rover, just as Rictus wandered back into the Manor with a shout and a wave. Kino had said goodbye over breakfast, nearly breaking a rib, and so it was just her.

The goodbye was stilted, her large hand stroking your hair as she took an audible sniff. It made you giggle wetly, swallowing down the impulse to just collapse into her and let yourself be consumed. You first, her later. That was probably what Rictus had meant, god your brain was slow today.

“Thanks for a lovely Christmas, and everything in between, well most things,” You mumbled, watery smile.

“You’re more than welcome, Sweet Girl,”

“I-I’ll be in touch, when I can,” Her hand was warm in yours, keeping you anchored in place.

“IF you can, Dear,” She corrected, voice caring “I expect you to take this seriously,”

A scoff, as you nodded and pursed your lips. Everyone was treating you like you were suddenly going to go back on your plan and jump her bones against the front door. It was a valid concern, even you hadn’t decided completely if you would or not.

“See you soon,” She said, a throwaway comment, as you let go and climbed into Mel’s car.

Several beats. Your heart full and empty, a weird schrodinger’s joke. A fern tree smell from the little car freshener.

“Well that was agonising to watch,” Mel quipped, shooting her mum a wave and pulling out of the driveway. Manicured nails flicked on a random playlist, 80s rock heavy, as you stared out at the frosty scenery.

The flowers started a week after you had gotten back to Edinburgh. Always different, always perfectly sized for your light green vase and never overwhelming. It was a constant sign of her presence, without the stifling need to be responded to. There was never a note, beyond her initials, and that made each delivery all the sweeter. Sometimes other things would come with them too, after a long deadline or big presentation, there would be wine or a new book. It was a more considerate type of materialism, reminiscent of sand castle buckets and chiffon dresses, as glimmering parts of your old self emerged from the explosion of Her.

Winter socials, dancing around the house in pyjamas singing ABBA with Mel as the world began to thaw.

Valentine’s Day arrived, and with it a little bouquet of roses and a takeaway voucher.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Ambessa x

You too, Sweet Girl x

It was your first point of contact, and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. She was slowly but surely winning you over from afar, earning you as she’d said and this new, fresh, old version of yourself was happy to let her encroach a bit on No Man’s Land. Plus, this burrito was one of the best things you’d eaten in ages.

Ambessa was smiling widely at her phone, heart a jackhammer. She felt foolish, any acknowledgment sending her into a tailspin, but that soft kiss at the end of a text was enough to solidify her already immense resolve. You were hers, and she was yours, however long she had to wait.

You were granted the funding you needed, your academic success propelling you into spring with tired and happy limbs. Eleven weeks of flowers, a few scattered texts and one slightly drunken nude later, Mel was rambling at the dinner table about Easter plans.

“Dad’s not back till the last week,” You replied around a very hot mouthful of chicken parm, “Presumed I’d spend the rest of the time with you,”

Mel’s eyes glistened, shit eating grin on her glossed lips, “Did you now?”

“Oh come off it,” You snapped, “Ambessa already offered anyway,”

“She has? How nice of her,” Excitement fizzed in her, battling with a bit of sadness at losing her friend’s full attention, “And how is that? Calla lilies this week, I noticed,”

“Why’s that matter?”

“They mean beauty,”

“They have meanings?” Tomato sauce stained your grey joggers, you didn’t care, “What about the others?”

She snorted, “You thought they were just random?”

“I-I” A gulp, “Well, fuck I don’t know I just thought they were pretty,”

Her laughter grated at you, google your true friend in the matter, as you scanned through each message Ambessa had supposedly sent.

Bluebells first - Humility. Ironic start.

Honeysuckle - Bonds of Love

Yellow Tulips - Sunshine in a smile - your heart seized.

Peony - Bashful - not a word you’d really associate with her.

White Hyacinth - Loveliness - Hers or your own? Both, you decided. Both.

Edelweiss - Devotion - a dizzy wave of warmth over your skin.

Red Roses - I Love You - apt for Valentine’s day.

Chamomile - Patience in adversity. How brave she was, how ridiculous.

Forget-Me-Nots - True Love Memories - Her stained grin, garlic bread in hand came to mind.

Red Camellias - You’re a flame in my heart - This coincided directly with her receiving a picture of you in a lacy red bra and thong, courtesy of cheap pints in your favourite pub, and an uncharged vibrator.

Calla Lillies - Beauty.

Your chicken parm was cold now, your mouth hanging open, as your eyes burned slightly.

“You back with me, babe?”

“This is so stupid,” You spluttered into cold marinara sauce, “She’s so stupid,”

“Love makes a fool of us all,” Mel said wisely.

“Is that why you, Viktor and Jayce were curled up last night? I saw you holding hands,”

“Be quiet!” She whined, “Die,”

“Don’t throw stones, Mel,” You mocked, “You’re looking awful glassy right now,”

You would stay for Easter then, you both agreed over chocolate mousse, as you sent a thumbs up to Ambessa’s invitation.

Ambessa, glasses balancing on her nose as she read a novel, scanned the text. Once. Twice. An exuberant third time. Rictus ended up battered with requests for a clear and ornate Easter menu, despite the fact that the holiday was over six weeks away and not at all favoured by the Medarda family. Mina had taken to nibbling her phone but only ever when you texted, and Ambessa was beginning to take it personally.

Your spring deadlines came and went, as April and its gentle rest bite from academia beckoned. The journey was painfully familiar to you now, as was the warm and rough rock sitting in your stomach. You felt you again, which was terrifying as it finally gave some space for her. Something you had come to want so desperately it made your dreams turbulent and your hands shaky. She still had some work to do, but as you flicked through your sparse text exchanges you couldn’t fight the smitten smile.

You loved Ambessa Medarda, and that was okay now. For both of you.

Ambessa had been waiting for three hours by the door like an overexcited dog. Several times Rictus had come to ask her questions or show her things, and each time she was transfixed on the long driveway.

“Mel said they wouldn’t be here before 2,” He said, smirk on his lips.

“She’s never reliable,”

“She is literally compulsively on time,”

“Rictus, do I pay you for these kinds of conversations?”

“No, but you probably should, I was going to bring it up during my next performance review,”

“Ah yes, 31st of April, wasn’t it?”

He laughed, wandering back towards the tower of hand painted easter eggs he was tending to.

2pm on the dot you pulled up by the house, clambering to stretch your legs. As the door opened Mel ran to it, kissing her Mum’s cheek and shooting past her to get to the toilet. Whether intentional or serendipity, Mel had given you the perfect opening to stare like a lovesick fool at her mother.

“Ambessa,” Her name a cry of joy.

“Sweet Girl,” She ignored the thickness in her throat, eyes glimmering at seeing your face again.

“T-Thanks for the flowers,” Unsure hands, “And the messages they sent,”

She smiled, stepping forward and squeezing your arm. “Always, as long as you enjoy them,”

“You’ve been just what I needed,” Affection swelled in your chest, “Present but distant,”

“Like a ghoul?”

You giggled, “Exactly that,”

“You keep comparing me to spirits and ghosts,”

“I actually compared you to Scrooge, not the ghosts themselves,”

She rolled her eyes, snorting, “You must always be right, mustn’t you?”

“Ambessa,” You repeated, gentiler now.

She hummed in question, gaze meeting yours.

“I think I’m ready to try now,” A sharp inhale, “If you are?”

“Well,” Her crimson lips part into a dazzling smile, “That makes me very ha-”

“Princess!!” Kino, dressed in plaid pyjamas, shouted as he ran to engulf you in a hug, “You’re here!”

“Bastard child,” Ambessa grunted under her breath, watching as you cuddled her son and made faces at her over his shoulder.

“Later,” You mouthed, before focusing on Kino, “Hello there, Peacock Prince,”

She wandered back inside with a murderous expression, greeted by Mel halfway through a bag of Quavers, “Kino cockblock you?”

“Mel, I fund your lifestyle,” Ambessa snapped, “Do not antagonise me,”

“That’s a yes,” Her crunchy words said, offering her a cheesy grin.

It took until after dinner that evening for you to get a moment alone together again, your spot in the library occupied as you stared across at her. Kino was out with another lady friend and Mel had common sense, so the air that crackled around you would not be interrupted. It was a good thing too, you’d spent the whole time eating your spaghetti trying to make yourself look alluring. Until Mel had pinched you under the table.

“So,” You started, chest tight.

“So,” She repeated, stroking Mina, “You said you were ready?”

“Yes,” Your decision was certain now, having spent some time back in her presence. You wanted it all, as soon as you could get it. Seemed you were as damned as she was. The devil on your own shoulder.

“We can take it slowly, Sweet girl,” She said, leaning forward, “There’s no rush,”

Your blood was thick and hot, mind whirling, “What if I want to rush?”

Ambessa grinned, chucking Mina away and with one sharp tug moving you onto her large thighs, “Then I’d say, where would you like to start?”

She was solid and seductive and all the things you’d avoided in your time finding yourself. She was as sticky and tempting as always, though her love tempered the fire now. Things were never done by half, and you’d fooled yourself when you planned to build a relationship step by step. Ambessa had laid the foundations, floral and firm, so now you wanted to chuck brick and cement together as fast as you could.

“This maybe?” You half slurred in anticipation, hungry lips meeting hers.

Ambessa was, for once, incredibly surprised. You were devouring her, with no restraint, as if no time had passed at all. But you were different now, she could sense it. Stronger, more certain of your place, your needs and wishes. It suited you, like an attractive new coat. Her hands were roaming about, searching for the best place to land, each patch of skin more perfect than the last.

“Are you sure?” She murmured against smudged lips, holding your chin in place to stop your desperate advance, “I don’t want to push you away again,”

You melted, kissing her palm, “You won’t,” it was breathless, “I promise,”

“I’ll only do this if I get to take you out tomorrow, a nice long day together,” Her honeyed voice muttered, though one hand was already making its way under your shirt.

“So a win-win?”

Calloused fingers grazed your nipple, kissing your neck as she nodded into it.

“Not sure I could ask for a better Easter,” You joked breathlessly, body twitching into her touch.

“That’s why you’re not going to ask for it,” Her voice was dark, a switch flipped, “You’re going to beg,”

Welcome back Ambessa Medarda, you’ve been sorely missed. I hope you fuck my brains out now. “Please?” You quipped.

A sharp pinch to your nipple, a low growl, “Do you think I’m joking, girl?”

You ached for her, mind fracturing, as an earnest apology ripped from your throat. Your pleading was real now, her wet kisses maddening.

Ambessa felt hungry, ravenous in fact, and you had offered yourself like a perfect little dessert. How kind. How naive. It took her a few minutes of pawing at you for all of your clothes to be left on the floor, goosebumps prickling your skin as you rubbed yourself against her thigh. This was perfection, your thoughts slush as she whispered filth in your ear.

“More,” You whined, the pull on your chest not harsh enough.

She twisted until it burnt, making you jolt, as her wet tongue soothed the ache, “That enough pain for you? So desperate for it,”

“I-I”

“Is that why you sent me those filthy pictures?” Her thumb, slick with you, danced in circles across your clit, “Wanting to show yourself off, hmm? A slut in red lace?”

“Ambessa,” You gasped.

“You wanted to drive me mad,” A suck to a sore nipple, “Wanted to corrupt me, after I tried so hard to stay away,”

“It was an accident,” You slurred, stomach tensing as you thrust in rhythm with her touching.

“An accident?” She scoffed, nuzzling against your throat, “That’s what you call spreading yourself for me on camera?”

You were so close, her words like gasoline as you whimpered a confused apology, your mind desperate to keep feeling good.

“Is this an accident too, Sweet girl?”

“Wha-” Your eyes rolled, cunt gushing as your first orgasm slammed into you like a sledgehammer.

She slipped you off her lap, sliding out from under you to the ground, as your bare skin touched the cool red leather chair. She knelt, a devious grin on her lips, between your trembling legs as she watched a soft slickness drip down your thighs.

“You’ve made a mess,” She said, disapproving pout on her face, “Say you’re sorry,”

“S-sorry, Ambessa,” You mumbled, eyes glassy.

“Good girl,” She stroked your thighs, a tight grip on them, tiny crescent moons from her nails, “It’s okay, I’m here to tidy you up,”

She had always been skilled, playing you like an instrument, but as her hot tongue hit your folds you found yourself blank, empty and unsure if you would ever feel anything other than raw, molten pleasure again. Teasing kitten licks lapped up your juices, her golden eyes controlling your every move, as you went limp against the chair. It smelt of her. Everything in this room did. Your body twitched again.

Her tongue drew another two orgasms from your needy body, sweaty hair sticking to your forehead as you tugged at her salt and pepper curls.

At some point you ended up flat on the floor against her fancy Persian rug, legs spread as she sat on your face. She was soaked, your cheeks wet as you ate mindlessly. Her orgasms were like nectar as she came apart above you, stern voice turning airy and dazed.

“Just like t-that,” She panted, fucking herself on your tongue.

Your hummed agreement hit her swollen clit, her tongue lolling out her mouth as an animalistic grunt filled the room.

You were in a bed now. How had that happened?

“Still with me, little one?” She teased, stroking your hair as she loomed above with a long, hard strap-on.

“That looks nice,” You babbled, chest rapidly rising and falling.

“Would you like it?”

A nod.

“Ask nicely then, Sweet girl,”

“Pleasepleaseplease,” You said, sweet as sugar, spreading yourself just as you had in those pictures.

Ambessa Medara was a strong woman. It was her defining feature in fact. Iron will and firm muscle, she prided herself on being a fortress. Here, however, with a whimpering slut beneath her, her resolve shattered like china against marble. You were stuffed before she’d processed the last plea, a surprised gurgle as she worked to destroy you.

Again, and again and again. She fucked that sweet spot in you with relentless efficiency, as cool leather rubbed against your clit in time with her thrusts. You’d long since given up on the idea of being quiet, mewling gasps and shouts of her name leaving you hoarse with fluttering eyes.

“Cum for me,” It was a sudden command, voice harsh and high, as she fell apart with a vicious thrust.

You obeyed, the coil in you snapping again, as her sweat covered skin collided with yours.

You stayed like that, hearts beating in time, as lust faded to contentment and exhaustion. Her slurred praise soothed your battered body as a cold flannel wiped away the stickiness that lingered everywhere.

There was little else to be said that night, words of love and happiness pouring from you both under your shared silken sheets.

She loved you.

You loved her.

How perfect.

Slightly lopsided, with a turtleneck to hide the smattering of bruises across your skin, you made your way to the breakfast table. You’d agreed with Ambessa to tell Kino this morning before your date, the only thing still truly weighing on her out of the way in order for you to have the perfect day together.

He was currently assembling a tower of waffles and bacon, as Mel systematically pushed it over. Rictus stood making more construction materials at the hob, sharing a grin with Mel.

Ambessa, seeing you enter, coughed loudly to silence the squabbling.

You wandered over nervously, resting beside her.

“I’d just like to make everyone aware of something,” She started slowly.

“Someone dead?” Kino muttered, staring at you.

“No,” She held her hand up to silence him, “Nobody’s died,”

“Someone pregnant?” Mel asked. The shit stirrer.

“No I-” Ambessa glared at her, taking a deep breath her hand gravitated towards your shoulder,“I wanted to let you know that we've decided to pursue a romantic relationship,”

“Oh,” Kino’s body tensed, “And when did you make this choice?”

“Last night,” You replied hesitantly, “Why?”

“Fuck,” He groaned to himself, a gruff laugh heard from the hob.

“I do believe we said one thousand even,” Rictus mocked, flipping a waffle onto the boy’s plate.

“You couldn’t have waited another twelve hours,” He grumbled, fishing for his wallet in his coat.

“What is happening right now?” Ambessa said, voice stern.

“I bet yesterday,” Rictus said as if it were obvious, “Wolf pup here bet today, thought you’d need a little time to warm up, silly boy,”

“You’ve been betting on our relationship?!” You cried, eyes wide as saucers.

“I wanted to feel included somehow,” Kino whined, “Everyone was taking me out for breakfast to shut me up,”

Your gaze turned to Mel, who held her hands up, “I knew nothing about this babe, I swear,”

Liar. Her grin gave her away.

Ambessa took the wad of cash from Kino’s hands before Rictus could, taking two hundred pounds from the pile, giving you a hundred and keeping the rest for herself, “Our commission,” Her voice was tiny daggers, “For entertaining you all so thoroughly,”

Both men grumbled, though the sparkle in their eyes told them it was never really about the money, the satisfaction coming from destroying the other's pride.

A pause, as she turned directly to her son, “You’re taking this very well, Kino, despite your usual nonsense, I am sorry for keeping you in the dark,”

“About as dark and subtle as a bat signal, Mum,” He laughed, “I knew you’d tell me when it worked for you.

“Yes, well, thank you anyway,” Her voice was laced with sarcasm, as she kicked down his tower this time.

The loud, nonsensical rumble of infighting filled the kitchen as her hand found yours, a tight squeeze making you smile.

No more secrets. No more sadness.

You were finally officially a Medarda.

#reader insert #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #arcane #ambessa smut

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millieisawriter · 2 days ago

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okay guys <33 requests keep coming in (just got one for arthur/dutch x brothel worker reader,) and i love that but for some reason (i'm still a lil sick, woke up with a terrible headache) writing has been going slow :( so! not wanting to leave y'all dry i've prepared something like this :)

headcannons: RDR2 men as dads

including: arthur, javier, charles, sean, lenny

Arthur Morgan

considering his past experiences, he'd feel so grateful to have another chance at having family

this time he would leave the outlaw life for his family, now he knows being two things at once, a criminal and a good father, doesn't work

tries to watch his language around the kid, and succeeds most of the time

the most protective dad ever, like he'd fr team up with the kid against you even if you're trying to scold the kid for something she/he did

when i say protective i mean it – if the kid coughs he's rushing her/him to the nearest doctor

he sucks at fishing, but he would take the kid fishing if she/he likes it

if the kid wants a dog, arthur is getting a dog for her/him immediately

would let the kid doodle in his journal

bedtime stories for the kid that are literally about the gang's past, excluding the darker parts of the story

Javier Escuella

writes his own lullabies for the kid

encourages any form of creativity like playing an instrument, singing, dancing

his kid would be the best dressed kid around, he's always getting the prettiest clothes for her/him and teaching about the importance of a clean appearance

but the kid would think it's extremely funny to run from him whenever he's trying to get them to wear a new shiny pair of boots, they just love to rebel against him

tries to watch his language around the kid, nearly failing often like "mierrrr–coles"

the kid would think spanish is harder than english, so whenever javier tried to learn her/him his language, the kid would get frustrated at some point and just scream gibberish

then javier would pick random days where he speaks only spanish to the kid. she/he might be reluctant to answer in spanish, but she/he understands the language well. however, javier will NOT reply until the kid speaks spanish

Charles Smith

teaching the kid about how important it is to respect the nature and the land

would make any toy the kid asks for by hand

i think that's obvious, but he would take the kid hunting when they're old enough

teaching the kid to take care of injured animals, that's how a rabbit ended up living in the house ("temporarily" at first)

would be so happy to let the kid braid his hair or put flowers in it, or if the kid made a flowercrown for him

most calm dad ever, he never gets angry at his kid. he doesn't even need to yell, one look is enough for the kid to stop whatever nonsense they're doing

doesn't panic as long as the kid isn't in a lot of pain. like maybe the kid will fall or get a scrape or a little cut, and charles would be just like "you're fine, walk it off" but he'd say it gently

good at playing hide and seek, many times the kid would just give up searching for him or throw a tantrum because charles found her/him so quick

Sean MacGuire

terrible influence, you couldn't have picked a worse father for your kids

doesn't bother to watch his language around the kid at all, so even if the kid doesn't pick up his accent, they would swear in sean's irish accent

allows his kid to stay up late, eat sweets instead of a normal meal, encourages mischevious behavior

would teach the kid to gamble

his kid is literally his partner in crime, sean would teach her/him how to silently steal from people's pockets or how to pick a lock

getting a mannequin, putting a jacket with many pockets on it, wrapping it in things that make noise like little bells on a string, and telling the kid to pickpocket it without making any noise

the kind of dad that will purposely do something to embarrass his kid in public, but would also brag about his kid

would offer a sip of beer to his kid a few times because "that's not even real alcohol!" but you quickly smack the idea out of his head

neither sean nor his kid are allowed around matches after a small incident that involved matches and hay

Lenny Summers

would make sure his kid is well-spoken and understands the importance of education

takes the kid for trips to a nearby bookstore

at first the kid didn't like reading much, feeling like lenny pressures them too much into it, but eventually they started enjoying books

would raise the kindest, gentlest, most obedient kid ever, the kind of kid that never talks back to the parents

yet still he'd also teach the kid to stand up for themselves when someone would try to push them around

IF the kid did something wrong, lenny would pull up with "I'm not mad, I'm disappointed"

would never fall into the loop of "why" questions, because his answers would be so long and detailed the kid would just give up

#rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 headcannons #arthur morgan x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #sean macguire x reader #lenny summers x reader #red dead redemption 2 headcannons

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slightly-knot-insane · 2 days ago

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My Eye on You

Monstertober 2024 - day 20 + 31 [ Fear of the Dark + Creature Feature ] by @/ozzgin

[ m!psoglavs* x fem!reader ]

*The quite literal translation for 'psoglav' is 'doghead'. They are nasty creatures, scavengers that eat corpses. They are described having human bodies with a dog head, one eye, iron teeth (and possibly hooves)

content: dub-con, gangbang, knife play, p in v, bukakke, biting, oral (both) tw: dub-con, (mention of) discrimination, racial fetishization

You look behind yourself. The street is very poorly lit and the gangs of psoglavs have been an issue in this area for a while. You click your tongue in annoyance. Calling groups of protesting psoglav "gangs" is very disrespectful. They've been discriminated for many years. Only working the worst jobs and suffering constant repression. The recent case of a psoglav child being refused treatment by a racist doctor sparked protests in the city. And they also ignited the darker side of psoglavs, especially at night.

But you know how much people have been unfair toward them. You've been working as a social worker for ten years and the amount of times you had to fight, yell and scream at authorities and your co-workers to stay professional and fair is alarming. And disappointing.

This is not your usual route of going home. The train stopped outside the station since it broke down and you had to walk through this unfamiliar district or go around following a quite longer path. It's an industrial zone and it's completely abandoned this late at night. You, admittedly, didn't think about that or about the lack of street lights. Which is very foolish.

You use your phone's flash to illuminate your path, but it feels like you're in a horror video game. You push your chin deeper into your jacket and walk faster. You don't get far before hearing a familiar sound of iron hooves ringing against the pavement. A group of psoglavs are following you. Shit.

You stop and turn around and your flash illuminates their impressive teeth and whites of their glaring eyes.

"I'm sorry for walking through here," you say. "I had no idea this was your area."

"Oh don't worry, we don't mind," one of them replies. You count four almost glowing eyes surrounding you. "We can help you get through here."

You take a step back, noticing the dangerous note in his voice. "I'm f-fine."

One of them pulls out a knife. "Oh but we insist."

"Wait..." The one whose eye is shining in a deep green shade steps forward. "I know her. She's one of the social workers who helped my nephew stay with my sister. She's... really nice."

The amount of humans and psoglavs that go through your office is too high for you to remember everyone... but you actually do remember this young man. A few weeks ago, he was sitting in the hallway comforting his little nephew while his sister was nervously pacing in front of the office. An immediate thought flashed through your mind - how caring and sweet he was. Not to mention you have a bit of a... thing for psoglavs and their lanky bodies and elongated arms.

"Is she?" The one with the knife relaxes. "That's okay... But she's still a human. I just... don't like them. Not anymore."

Being surrounded with these tall psoglavs fully electrified with conflicting emotions, aggression and frustration - got you sweating. And wet.

"Well, in any case, too bad such an opportunity go to waste." The next second the knife is at your throat, tip pressing against your pulse. You are too scared to swallow. "Unzip, darling."

One of them takes your phone and illuminates you as if you're on the stage. You remove your jacket and it falls to the ground. The knife slides between your breasts as it cuts your blouse. The tip burns your skin as it lightly enters your skin.

"Not even a little yelp?" The one with the knife mocks. "You are so brave." He proceeds to rip and cut your clothes, and his sharp knife makes a few cuts here an there. Soon you're left in your undies, exposed and trembling, covered in small lacerations. Psoglavs lick their lips and growl.

The knife dances across your stomach and ends up pressed just above your clit. You gasp from anticipation. "You're wet, darling. Your panties are soaked. Such a filthy slut you are." He lifts his knife and pulls it to his mouth. The slow dragging of the blade across his moist, steaming tongue sends a throb right into your core. You're no longer sure that the cold is making you tremble.

"Cherry boy!" You're surprised by his bark. The psoglav you know unglues his eyes from you and looks at his most likely leader. "Would you like to taste a human cunt?"

The cute psoglav seems flabbergasted at first, like he didn't understand the question, but then his bright green eye flashes. In one quick jump he's behind you, pulling you backwards with his long arms. He is squeezing your tits and pushing his hand between your legs, rubbing your damp underwear against your moist lips. He is too rough with you and you jolt.

"Ah... sorry!" His voice is less deep than the leader's, less rough, almost velvety. "You are just so... gorgeous. I really want to... fuck you... I've watched so much psoglav and human porn..."

His friends giggle. The young psoglav growls and fondles you harder. His eager, impatient, raspy pants tickle your exposed neck. He is drooling down your bare back. You can only imagine the state this youngsters is in - and that excites you. Especially the hardness pressing against the small of your back. His bony long fingers pinch your nipples. "So pretty... so soft..."

"Bend her down," the leader instructs him. "She is too short for you so I will help you. It's a shame not to use that delicate mouth of hers too."

He pulls out his semi-hard cock out of his jeans just as the young psoglav pushes your back, bending you forward. "I love human asses," he growls and slaps you. "They are so fat, so soft, I just.... nggghh..."

You feel his hot breath on your ass. The first bite is unpleasant and you yelp. "Hey, easy!"

"S-sorry... I just can't control..." His sharp teeth will definitely leave bruises but you're sure he could do a lot worse if he wanted to.

"Let's keep that mouth of yours busy." The leader takes you by your shoulders and lifts you right in front of his red and swollen cock. He doesn't need to tell you anything and you slurp that thing right in your mouth. You always wondered how does psoglav cock taste like. The leader hisses through his teeth, surprised by your action. "Fuck..."

The young psoglav behind you moves your underwear to the side and the next thing you feel is the long and slimy tongue hitting your g-spot like a torpedo. You whimper and wriggle around, but strong arms hold you in place. "Keep sucking my cock you slut, and let my friends have fun with you."

"You taste so good..." Youngster is slurping and humming against your pussy, eating you out like a juicy watermelon. You knees tremble and you have to grab the leaders jeans just to stay on your feet.

"Come on, cherry boy. Get your cock out. We don't have all night."

With an annoyed grunt, the tongue retracts from your core, just as your orgasm was starting to build up. You whimper and buck your hips wanting him to continue. And fast. The two other psoglavs get their leaking cocks out and stroke them on each of your side.

"Fuck..." The nervousness almost breaks young psoglav's voice. He lifts your thigh high up to position himself, lifting you up with his other arm cupping your stomach. He misses once, twice... but the third time your soaked pussy almost sucks him in. "Oh fuck, I'm inside...." His excitement is so adorable. "I... oh fuck... oh fuck... this is so good..."

His thrusts are insecure for mere seconds before they turn impatient and vigorous, catching a delightful rhythm. Your g-spot gets rubbed by his thick cock, the pressure sending pulses of irresistible pleasure. You get slightly dizzy, two strong psoglavs holding you horizontally almost completely lifted in the air, and you just buck your hips chasing your release before it washes over you. Your scream is muffled by a cock shoved down your throat and they barely notice it from all their panting and growls.

"Great job!" the leader praises the ex-virgin. "You made her cum. You will be an excellent lover."

The young psoglav doesn't say anything, but his thrusts become erratic and irregular and, with a low growl ,he grabs your thigh and pushes himself inside your pussy as far as he can go and releases his load into a body for the first time. Probably turned even more on by his and your panting, the rest of psoglavs shoot their loads on your face and back, covering you with their thick and sticky seed.

"Well..." The leader is breathless. He suddenly releases you and you would've fell onto the ground face first if the young psoglav behind you didn't grab you by the hips and helped you up. "This was fun. Thank you for being on our side, human. We'll keep an eye on you."

The three of them push their cocks inside their jeans and walk away. The young psoglav stays a bit longer to make sure you can stand on your own. After fixing himself up, he removes his jacket and places it on your naked shoulders and runs after his friends. But you see his green eye flashing back toward you, at least one more time.

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himluv · 3 days ago

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I'm having a lot of thoughts and feelings about Lucanis's quest line. This all started when I was talking myself through what I consider critiques of the game - things I didn't like (which is a whole other post tbd). And I sort of stumbled into how I felt in the initial moment when I realized Illario really had betrayed Lucanis.

My immediate reaction was... Disappointment. And I thought I was disappointed because it felt too easy and out of character, but as I talked myself through it (verbal processing ftw) I think I stumbled onto the truth of the matter. Or at least, it feels true to me.

I read The Wigmaker Job and The Wake multiple times before VG released. Lucanis was my #1 hope for a companion before they were announced. I know and love these idiot Dellamortes.

So when the game took every opportunity to tell me Illario betrayed Lucanis, I didn't believe it. It was TOO obvious, too heavy-handed. And Illario loves his cousin, so surely there must be a twist.

I kept waiting, kept denying, until Bloodbath when it became pretty fucking clear that Illario was, if not directly responsible, definitely involved in Lucanis's imprisonment in the Ossuary. The betrayal was real. And I screamed at my TV and threw a pillow and had to take a break.

Now, here's why I think this is actually an example of brilliant writing:

The game told me over and over and over again that Illario betrayed Lucanis. And, because I did my homework and read the tie-in media, I liked Illario too much to believe it was him. Because I am trained by a lifetime of consuming narratives to believe that the obvious culprit is NEVER the actual culprit, I denied the reality the game kept presenting.

I said, "nope. No way. Not Illario."

Just.

Like.

Lucanis.

The game manipulated me into a similar (if not identical) viewpoint as Lucanis, until we were both forced to accept and face the truth. The terrible thing is not only possible, it's true. It happened. And no amount of lying to yourself will change that.

Which is also the entire theme about Spite. About acknowledging the trauma you've experienced and then finding a way to live with and through it. You can't keep hiding from it. It won't go away.

Lucanis's whole story is: the terrible thing happened. You can't undo it, can't unsee it. If you do nothing, then you will never be free of it. So, what do you do now?

And that's what Illario's betrayal is - an external version of the inner struggle Lucanis is battling.

Basically, once I realized how beautifully the writing maneuvered me through this narrative, I stopped thinking about any potential "bad" writing. This game is brilliant and I will not be taking questions at this time.

#datv spoilers #dav spoilers #da4 spoilers #dragon age spoilers #veilguard spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #illario dellamorte #himluv rambles about pixels again

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roseburning · 2 days ago

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I've been thinking about those soulmate AUs where whatever happens to your skin translate's to your soulmates, so when you get hurt, they get hurt as well. Those can be really cute with other ships when one doddles on their skin, or if one works as vet and has weird scratches.

But Cherik. Fuck, Cherik.

Kurt beating Charles up and Erik thinking that the bruises he doesn't remember is just Shaw experimenting on him while unconscious. That's just the tip of the iceberg.

One random morning when Charles is a kid, he feels this excruciating pain and numbers appear on forearm. From that point beyond it's just downhill, everyday he screams like it's torture, because, well, it is.

It gets to a point where even his negligent mother can't ignore and takes him to a hospital, he gets tested for every single type of chronic pain possible, but it all turns negative, so they think he's faking it/ it's psychological. But his shitty family still doesn't want to deal with that, so they lock him up in the hospital, so the doctors can "treat him" and "ease the pain", however nothing works — because the it's not Charles', it's Erik's.

At this point some might suspect it's soulmate induced, but what kind of person would be torture this much for so long?

Raven is the only one who keeps visiting, disguised as a nurse or a doctor, she's the only one who believes him. Until the late 1940s, when the pain stops. Erik is free from the camps. Charles is discharged from the hospital.

It's not until some years later, the world learns the the horrors the Nazis were doing, and my god the tattoo — that's when Charles understands what kind of person his soulmate is. He never cried so hard as that night. Raven hugs him, saying that his soulmate has to have survived, or else he'd be dead too, right? Right?

They want to search for his soulmate, but all they have is the numbers (and they'd assume it's a girl because of period typical homophobia). Besides, if they're soulmates, the universe is going to put them together, right?

And then Charles saves a random man who was going to drown trying to throw a submarine at a Nazi yacht. Their minds touch, and it's like they've known each other their wholes lives, it's beautiful.

Charles shows him his numbers and Erik shows his, and they match — because of they do — and my god, IT'S YOU!!

Erik didn't even thought he had a soulmate, thought he was doomed to be alone, but Charles is cheering and hugging him because IT'S YOU WHO I'VE BEEN IN HELL FOR! oh my god you've been through hell OH MY GOD WE'VE BEEN THROUGH HELL!

Raven is crying in the background because she has a new brother-in-law. Erik is a bit confused in the beginning, but as soon as he realizes Charles has suffered in Shaw's hands as much as he did, he hugs him to never let go. He cries variations of ‘I'm sorry’, but Charles reassures him it was never his fault.

And they go hunt Shaw together, holding hands. And Charles doesn't protest when Erik wants to kill him with the coin. He endures holding Shaw still while Erik gets his closure, he endured so much for Erik, it's just one more thing, once and for all. It's revenge for us both.

There's no beach divorce.

They live happily ever after.

#if there was a beach divorce Erik would feel the bullet as well but wouldn't get paralyzed #cherik headcanon #cherik #cherik au #au #soulmates #soulmates-identifying marks #soulmate au #soulmates identifying marks #x men #x men first class #happily ever after #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #jewish erik lehnsherr #sebastian shaw #Sebastian shaw dies

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corkinavoid · 2 days ago

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DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 1]

The first time Tim sees him, he is seven, standing by his Father's side, and bored out of his mind.

The 'party' is numbingly dull, full of adults, sparkling flutes of champagne, tiny sandwiches, and fake twinkling laughter. Tim doesn't understand how his parents find any of it interesting; in his opinion, nothing about just talking to people for hours and hours straight sounds as exciting as they make it look.

He wishes he could just go home already. Not that his time in the Drake estate gets any more exciting than bothering house elves or spending his day in the library, but it's still better than this.

Or, Tim thought so until he heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering on the floor.

He turns around, and there are yelps and screams of surprise and angry swearing. It takes Tim a few seconds to realize what's going on - a few people are holding their hands to their faces, like trying to hide them, and he gets a glimpse of an elephant trunk peeking through the palms of one old lady.

And then, there's a sound of loud, delighted laughter ringing through the room, and the sound of footsteps, and-

"DANIEL!" Tim hears Mr. Masters, the host of the event, yell at the top of his lungs.

A moment later, Tim sees a boy zooming past him, elbowing the adults on his way to push through the crowd and still cackling like a madman. Tim doesn't get a good look at him, what with the boy running so fast he almost trips, but he does notice the messy black hair and the large, knitted blue sweater that looks too big on the boy's body.

"Daniel Jackson Fenton, come back this instant!" Mr. Masters calls again, his thunderous steps louder than all the yelling around them.

The boy doesn't even deign him with a look over his shoulder. Instead, he darts towards the nearest window, opens it with what seems to be practiced ease, and climbs on the windowsill. Only then does he look back to the chaos he created in the room full of respectable guests, and grins.

Tim blinks. He's never seen anyone smile like this, all teeth and mischief, and cheeky excitement.

"What, too old to catch me, Vlad?" He sticks his tongue at Mr. Masters, and just for a moment, Tim is scared the man is going to lunge at him. Yet, right as Mr. Masters gets close enough, the boy pushes off and jumps out the window, his laughter echoing through the night.

Mr. Masters looks like he is about to follow - and Tim is, for once, curious to see if he would - but stops himself short, only leaning out the window.

"Don't bother coming back, you little badger, you are grounded!" The man yells. The only response he gets is another fit of distant cackling from the gardens.

"That is sure a way to entertain the crowd," Father says quietly, and the tall, dark-skinned woman he's been talking to before the whole mess happened snorts a short laugh.

Tim looks back to the few people who are still sporting elephant trunks for their noses.

It's the first time he thinks a party full of adults in stuffy robes can be more fun than he expected.

—☆—☆—☆—

Some visuals for v i b e s

The room where the scene took place:

Tim's drawing after he was back home from the party (house elves helped):

[Picrew]

—☆—☆—☆—

I have the vaguest possible idea of where I'm going, but this is definitely going to be a multichapter thing.

A few notes I've got pinned down so far:

Drakes are a mostly pureblood family, not filthy rich and straight up focused on the whole purity thing, but keeping their reputation clean and nice, and their income stable. Both Jack and Janet have attended Hogwarts, and they were both Ravenclaws while they were at it. Janet might have some relation to Blacks, but it's so distant that she doesn't bother keeping it in mind.

Vladimir Masters is, technically, a pureblood wizard, but his family has been in England for only two or so generations. His grandma (who is still very much alive) came from Russia after falling madly in love with Vlad's grandpa (who is now deceased and, as the rumor goes, his wife had a hand in it). He also attended Hogwarts and has been a Ravenclaw in the same year as Madeline Fenton nee Walker. Hence, Daniel Fenton is his godson and, unofficially, as of right now, heir to Masters family.

[part 2 ->]

#im going to have f u n with this #danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #tim drake #vlad masters #hp #dpxdcxhp #hogwarts au #cork writes #cork prompts #yes this is going to end up with dead tired ship #like all my prompts

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minyard-05 · 2 days ago

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thinking about nicky and erik back home in germany and it's christmas and this year it just didn't work out– they didn't try and plan travelling until it was too late, nobody's schedules worked out quite right, so this is the first christmas nicky spends in germany without the twins. and it's fine, really, it is, nicky knows where they are, andrew and neil have settled into their apartment in colorado, just adopted their second cat, aaron and katelyn are in chicago, their residences have just started, last time katelyn texted she said she was thinking about getting aaron a dog and nicky made her promise to get a pug. it's a quieter Christmas to ones nicky might be used to, but it's all fine, really, it is. but he's got this weird nagging feeling at the back of his mind, his 'mom instinct', erik jokes, and nicky laughs but he really can't shake it. a call to andrew goes unanswered with a text a few hours later "at practice." neil texts just after "did you need something?"

aaron picks up, but it only lasts five minutes. he's driving, because they called him in for night shift again, on christmas, nicky complains, and aaron maybe even laughs down the line but it's still a thousand miles away. "they're sick, nicky, they can't help it."

"alright, doctor man, go save the world or whatever."

aaron laughs again, and says merry christmas before he hangs up. nicky drops the phone in his lap and sighs. erik puts a mug of hot chocolate in his hands and kisses his head, and nicky remembers he meant to send more of the german stuff from the market to andrew, knowing he's probably grown up by now.

"something on your mind?" erik asks, shifting so that nicky can sit sideways against him. he settles his hands into nicky's hair, combing through curls and tangles, and nicky sighs, not sure he could put it into words if he tried.

"it's just so quiet, you know?"

erik nods, reaching for the remote. he flicks on the tv but nicky barely notices, too caught up in his thoughts.

"i mean there's stuff i don't miss. when they wouldn't talk to each other for weeks wouldn't even stay in the same room as each other. i don't miss aaron trying to get as far away as he could from us, or andrew's meds, or when they couldn't communicate outside of therapy. it's just–"

"you miss when they were only a door down."

nicky nods, and he can feel tears pricking at his eyes now. he never cried over the twins when they were anywhere to see, knowing they'd only hate it, but erik knew him better than that by now. erik had listened to nicky break down over both trials he'd been brought in to testify in, had stayed on the phone for hours when aaron was in holding, when andrew was in easthaven, even flown all the way from germany when nicky himself was in hospital. erik had listened and erik had reassured and nicky was certain he didn't deserve him by now, but he twisted his ring around his finger and let erik press another kiss to his forehead.

the volume turns up, and nicky finally looks up at the screen. it's an exy match. nicky frowns– erik has never been much of a sports person, but then he catches half a familiar name on the commentary.

"–Minyard's recent transfer has definitely turned this team around since the start of the season. We're looking forward to seeing a lot more from the Chicago Kings this year."

nicky laughs, because it's like it's been years since he's seen andrew walk out onto the court, helmet under his arm, to crowds of screaming fans dressed in white and blue, and nicky laughs and he's really crying now, but it's like andrew can see him through the camera, because he pulls his helmet on and sends a two-fingered salute to the crowd. nicky lets erik pull him close and wipe tears away from his eyes.

"i'm so proud of them."

"you should be."

#orpheus speaks #aaron minyard #andrew minyard #nicky hemmick #aftg #all for the game #this didn't end the way i intended but i am too caught up in Emotions #nicky hemmick they could never make me hate you

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neysaadept · 1 day ago

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Prometheus Chapter 13

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 13 - Chasing After You

Tags: Swearing, canon typical violence, panic attack, drinking, mentions of grooming, drugs, arson, juvenile detention, breast mutilation, incest, and underage prostitution. No beta reader, mistakes are all me. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 7.5k

AO3

… Desperate for changing Starving for truth I'm closer to where I started I'm chasing after you

Hanging by a Moment - Lifehouse

You haven’t changed out of your sleep clothes or done your morning routine as you sit on the edge of the bed next to the open black duffel bag on Saturday morning. There is a navy-blue sweatshirt sleeve hanging off the side with drumsticks peeking out. Everything else was safely nestled inside except for the phone in your hand that you were staring at as if willing the device to magically alert you to a response about your text message.

Alpha sent 0534: I think I’m fucked.

You couldn’t talk to anyone at the BAU about your hot and cold relationship with Emily because it would get back to her for sure. The team sucks at keeping personal secrets that don’t affect national security or involving a case. Rebecca wasn’t an option either. She may have been your partner in crime with the fake dating prank, but she’s with Tara and that goes back to the first group of individuals you’re trying to keep this from. Brian was out. No way were you going to drop this bombshell after decades of being a lone wolf of you willingly flirting with the section chief and it being clear that awkward night was affecting your working relationship. He already has his suspicions on your drunken behavior because you are the master of not letting your guard down. And you did.

“Come on,” you urge down at your phone and look at the time shift to 0559.

You’re about to give up when the chime went off that you received a message. Eagerly, you open the message and smile.

Charlie sent 0559: And what did we do this time? 😊

Alpha sent 0603: You promise to not tease me?

Charlie sent 0604: I can make no promises, love.

Alpha sent 0604: 😡

Alpha sent 0605: PLEASE

Charlie sent 0605: Wow. This IS serious. What is going on?

Charlie sent 0605: And if it is something with the mission Brian got your back.

Alpha sent 0606: Not about current assignment.

Charlie sent 0607: 😮

Charlie sent 0607: OK that is a first.

Charlie sent 0607: What is wrong? How can I help?

You pause typing there because now comes the hard part – admitting you are capable of having amorous feelings towards another woman. You press your lips tightly together and fumble with the keypad, typing and deleting your message several times. Then you hang your head when you finally send it with a fiercely beating heart full of fright.

Alpha sent 0612: I really like someone. A lot.

The phone immediately rings and you laugh because it was expected. You answer it while scooting back against the headboard with your legs stretched outwards. You had been hunched over for so long your muscles were screaming in stiffness which makes you grunt against the receiver.

“Woman you tell me everything right now because I am not believing you!”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, overwhelmed at admitting this. “Comes as a big fucking surprise to me, too.” You narrow your eyes. “Do you know what I’m doing now?”

“Clearly not the woman that stole your heart.”

You blush hotly and cover your face. “Dude, just … just stop.”

She cackles over the phone. “I have to tease my baby sister that she has a crush.”

“Oh my god, I am not twelve. Stop talking like I’m a child.” But that made you glower into your lap, bringing your mind back to the argument with Prentiss.

“Ouch. That hit a nerve.”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s not you. It’s the whole fucking situation.”

“Okay. So, fill me in. And no, Brian hasn’t told me or Echo anything about what you’ve been up to.”

You fill her in on everything regarding Rebecca Wilson’s big favor, working with the BAU as a consultant, the stipend, and all about Section Chief Emily Prentiss. The first rocky week of your partnership, drinks at Buddy’s, making amends with a desk, Diet Coke, and working assignments together. Then you go into explicit details of Emily coming to your unit and collecting you for a girl’s night, the drunken ride home, and the inexplicable attraction that kept you standing there helpless before forcing yourself to move towards your building. And, of course, yesterday’s fight.

“Wow,” she says in amazement, but joy is heard there, too. “I never thought I’d live to see this day.”

“You’re not kidding.” You sigh into the receiver. “It’s so easy. Working with Emily. Being around Emily. It was nice, too. Finding that with someone outside of the fucking CIA and our little group,” you confess soberly. “Then it all got ruined because I’m a dumbass.”

“You’re not a dumbass for having feelings.”

“Yes, I am. I’m not supposed to have them because I’m incapable of having them. And now they’ve fucked up my friendship with her because now I have them. Which only furthers proves I’m a fucking idiot.” You slam your fist against the bedspread and growl in frustration at yourself. “She completely hates me now.”

“You’re only human. And honestly? This just shows how far you’ve come. And no, I sincerely doubt she hates you. You said the fight didn’t escalate like before, right?”

You bounce your head against the headboard lightly in rhythm to think and then stop when you speak up again. “No. It was … rather tame considering.”

“Right. So obviously she isn’t that upset.”

“Then I made her uncomfortable.”

“You made the Emily Prentiss uncomfortable? Girl, get over yourself.” She laughs and you can’t help joining in.

“Okay, point. But she’s obviously affected by what I said without directly coming out and saying it.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And, what?” you ask, puzzled.

“Fucking go talk to her.”

You freeze, feeling all the blood drain from your face and speak with a shaky face. “Uh, yeah. No. Can’t do that.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m always gonna be two triggers away from becoming a sociopath and she doesn’t need someone like me in her life!” you yell, white knuckling the phone.

“Oh, sweetie. We’re all wired this way. I bet Prentiss is, too. Some just got it worse than others, like you, but even we deserve happiness. You’re long overdue for some.”

She waits for you to get ahold of your ragged breathing that she hears pounding against the other end. You put the phone down and collect yourself, running a hand through your hair and realize that your once comfortable position sitting against the headboard had become you hugging knees to your chest. You roll your head back and forth and begin the familiar pattern of breathing and holding your breaths in fours. With each successful round of grounding, your limbs loosen and fall to the bed. Your neck cracks and stretches the tension away until finally, tight shoulders drop.

You’re back and you bring the phone to your ear knowing Charlie is waiting for you.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now let’s start over and talk about why you deserve this chance and then you can see how you feel about it and make a decision.”

“Damn it,” mutters Rebecca looking at her phone. She’s cozied up against Tara’s side on the couch at her girlfriend’s home.

They wanted to have a quiet night in, but the two of them thought it would a good idea to invite you over to join them. Also, Rebecca hadn’t had a chance to see you since the dinner awhile back and she was missing you. They were waiting for your response but had started on the wine without you.

Tara looked up to respond with a questioning gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“She said no,” Rebecca responded frumpily and tossed her phone down by the furthest cushion. “I really thought she’d come.”

“I’m not,” Tara states emphatically without thinking before taking a sip from the wine glass. They had chosen a cabernet sauvignon to have while watching the movie Till, and the bottle was ready for refills on the coffee table.

Rebecca’s head snaps at Tara with much curiosity. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Tara stopped in mid-sip realizing she was in trouble. “Uh …”

“Don’t uuuuuh me.” She pries the drink from Tara’s hand and sets in on the table. “What’s going on with her that I don’t know because last time I remember, I was her friend first. Which means, I’m on a need to know basis on what you clowns at the BAU have done to her.”

“Hey! What makes you think it’s us?” Tara declared with a tinge of hurt.

“Who else could it be?” she retorts with confidence and goes into lawyer mode. “The only variable that’s changed with her since I’ve known her is working as an FBI consultant with the BAU. And I know your track record with drama. So, please tell the jury who else has upset Agent Whitlock. And remember,” she pauses to bop Tara’s nose with a fingertip, “you’re under oath.”

Tara playfully tries to bite Rebecca’s finger as she pulls away which makes them smile adoringly towards one another. It makes Tara sigh with a roll of her eyes. “It’s not technically the BAU.”

Rebecca raises an unamused brow, but Tara holds up a hand to halt the retort. “I’m serious.” She rocks her head back and forth on how to phrase this. “It’s really just the … section chief of the BAU.”

That makes her brows furrow in defensiveness. “What the hell did Prentiss do?”

Tara leans with a huff. “It’s a long story.”

She takes the remote and pauses the movie. “Girl, I’ve got all night for you to convince me not to tear Prentiss a new asshole. You better get talking.”

User45125 sent 0924: Before we get to that, need assurances.

FlamePit23 sent 0945: Like what?

User45125 sent 0955: Need a favor done. And if done right, we can go ahead with your present.

FlamePit23 sent 0956: What kind of favor?

User45125 sent 0956: Not here. Want to talk. You game?

FlamePit23 sent 0957: I am.

User45125 sent 0959: Let me take care of some things on my end and I’ll let you know.

FlamePit23 sent 1000: Try not to have too much fun without me.

User45125 sent 1001: Wouldn’t think of it.

FlamePit23: sent 1002: Good. Talk soon.

This conversation happened during the day at the BAU where Prentiss and Garcia could watch the exchange in real time. Soon as you got the first text, you fired off one to Prentiss and Garcia to meet you in Penelope’s lair.

“Good work, my beloved cutie. You’ve gotten one step closer at snagging Spiderboy,” exclaims Penelope giving you a bright smile.

“Thanks.” You nod appreciatively. “Need to be careful though. He sniffs even an ounce of deceit; this plan is fucked.”

“Agreed.” Prentiss remains passive, focusing on the screen. You two haven’t shared a single word that wasn’t work related which was fine by you. “Let’s go over your cover.”

Penelope cracks her knuckles and brings up the digital creation for you. “Meet Nikole Wade – forty-three-year-old woman who barely graduated High School with a 2.0 GPA at Graves County in Mayfield, KY. She has a lovely rap sheet of violence and arson that has landed her in juvie several times because of her abusive father, Liam Wade. Thankfully he tragically died by slamming into a tree because he had a heart attack while driving his truck. Backstory, he was addicted to alcohol and cocaine. Mama Katie Wade in her infinite wisdom, thought she could groom her daughter for prostitution to pay the numerous bills. That’s when Nikole’s penchant for fire starting came to fruition and burned down the house, along with her mother. It was ruled an accident because mommy dearest had too much to drink and kept the stove on. Nikole ends up working a lot of retail jobs and is currently a cashier at the Food City grocery store in Gatlinburg, TN.”

“This fits with the whole nurturing angle that FlamePit23 has on her profile,” you continue. “And with a history like this, it explains her antisocial tendencies and denying friendships. We theorize by previous posts that the user came to this forum to gain new insights into what other arsonists are doing to keep their habits going without getting caught. Then ends up disgusted with how many wannabees there are playing pretend.”

“And this corroborates Green’s explanation of how Sicarius weeded through the users for those individuals that were legit. FlamePit being one of them,” Prentiss surmises.

“Exactly.” Penelope brings up a picture of you digitally altered to look like a teen during the juvie years of your story. “Isn’t she cute!”

Your head drops as you sigh. “You won’t let that go.”

“I will not. Not unless you show me an actual picture of teenage you to dispute your cuteness.”

“You know I can’t do that,” you plead while turning your head to look at her.

“Therefore, you are cute!” Penelope grins with a scrunched nose.

“Both of you focus,” Prentiss snaps, which got both of yours attention. And here you thought she would remain neutral but here comes bitch mode. “What have you done to make Sicarius believe this?”

Penelope’s wide eyes return to normal after being scolded. “Ah, well, the usual. High school records, a sealed juvenile record, uh … different places she’s worked, social security cards, birth certificates. A few police reports and articles about the crash and fire. If he somehow goes deeper than that, we’ll … we’re screwed.”

“But really, a person like Nikole Wade isn’t gonna have a lot to find since she’s kept to herself since becoming of age. I’ve already studied unsolved arsons in the Kentucky and Tennessee area that I can use for a resume in case he questions me,” you add. “Honestly, this is as good as it’s gonna get, Prentiss. Not unless you want me to do an entire photoshoot for new material.”

She heard the roughness in your tone in response to her impatience. She really couldn’t blame you and rises from her seat. “Alright. Let me know when he schedules the call. Until then, I’ll be in my office.”

“Oh, okay, Emily …” Penelope starts talking but Prentiss already was on the move and didn’t make eye contact with either of you. The door closes and she ends up waving to the door. “Bye!”

You roll your eyes at Prentiss’ childish behavior. “Anyway, I should probably get back to my desk since we’re good here.”

Penelope wants to say something so bad, but she can’t. She just can’t! No matter how much she wants to interfere and smack yours and Emily’s heads together to get a clue. Her, Tara and JJ all promised to not tell you anything.

So instead, she nods with agreement. “Yep! Those nasty reports can’t write themselves.”

Two days and there was no further contact from Sicarius, thus the BAU was business as usual writing up reports, analyzing data, and piecing together information to connect the victims in the shipping container to the missing persons. Tara has provided closure to three families. Penelope has made your cover identity as airtight as she possible can with the cyber crime division and what made Prentiss exceptionally happy? That Bailey had nothing to say about any of their work because the expenses were paid for and Director Korogoth’s glowing report of the BAU’s work in Idaho with your expertise made the AG extremely happy. She saw the benefit of Rebecca’s involvement of you, which also made Director Madison happy. The BAU was coming out ahead all thanks to collaborative efforts of you and the BAU.

What personally sucked was the lack of resolution between the two of you. She hadn’t even devised a solution to the problem she, once again, created so the only option was to avoid anything social with you. Admittedly her anxiety over the situation spilled over to impatience with snappish responses to any frivolity in the unit. At least she was consistently bitchy instead of her previous singular agenda against you. What weighed on her mind were things growing more awkward as she dragged out clearing the air with you.

“Hey, Em? Got a sec?”

She looks up from the opened file from New Mexico to address JJ. “Yeah. Come on in.”

JJ closes the door which puts Emily on alert. “Is everything okay?”

“Well, that depends.” JJ takes a seat across from Emily with purpose.

Emily speaks cautiously. “Oh what …”

“On why you haven’t talked with Whitlock yet,” she accuses.

She closed the file forcefully and was defiant. “JJ, I’m in no mood for this right now.”

JJ’s brows raise in disagreement. “Ah, well. Guess what? We’re talking because your mood sucks around here and it’s getting really old, really quick.”

“Are you seriously reprimanding me?” Emily challenged.

“Ah, yeah. Clearly, I am.” She frowns. “You need to talk to someone about it. Why not me?”

Emily starts to respond but doesn’t know how to start, leaving her mouth hanging open. JJ is patient since she sees that she is trying.

“You were right, JJ,” she admits with a long face. “I fucked up.”

“How did you fuck up?” she probed gently.

“Nina … is her mandated psychiatrist.”

Blue eyes look hard at Emily to interpret why this news unsettled her. All of them had mandated therapy sessions at several points in their careers, and now she knew who Nina was. Which wasn’t a woman in competition with her for your affections. “Okay. How is this bad?”

Emily licks her upper teeth as if there was a bad taste in her mouth before holding JJ’s gaze. “Because … I didn’t do as you suggested. And because of that we had another disagreement here in my office. Oh, stop that!” Emily scolds JJ dubious look. “It wasn’t like before. Tempers weren’t so heightened. But …”

JJ leaned in closer waiting for a continuation that never comes. She speaks up, coaxing her friend to keep going. “But what, Emily?”

With a sigh, Emily shrinks back into her chair to avoid eye contact. “Because I didn’t ask her who Nina was like you suggested. Instead, I learned it because she took a call from Nina.”

JJ winces. “Ouch.”

She points emphatically to her. “Exactly.”

“Well, it’s still salvageable,” JJ suggests furrowing her brows with concentration.

“I’ve messed up twice, JJ.” She holds up two fingers for emphasis. “Twice. I’m not willing to gamble the third times the charm.”

“Okay, if you want to be technical, you’ve already messed up three times if you could the first week you worked together with her,” offers JJ with a glint in her eyes. “So, fourth time’s the charm?”

Emily response was crossing her arms over her chest.

“Okay, yeah. Not funny,” JJ agreed, but she wasn’t going to give up on Emily. “You’re gonna have to work together for awhile still. You might as well be honest and apologize to smooth things over.”

“She’s too smart to take just the apology, JJ. She’ll want a reason.”

JJ shrugs. “So, tell her the reason.”

“Tell her she hit on me in Russian?” she scoffs at that. “Like she’ll believe me. She obviously doesn’t remember what happened. And after my behavior, you really think she’ll take my word? Or hell, really anything I have to say?” She looks guilty at JJ. “I really laid into her about the last case. About her call in the field.”

JJ knows how ugly that can get and is sympathetic for you. “Remember what I said when we were discussing this before?”

“That I basically suck at relationships.”

“True, but you needing more information is what I was going for,” she reminds Emily. “I think that if you don’t resolve what is, and isn’t, going on with you and Whitlock, this is just gonna keep escalating further until you have a real blow up. Professionally, that won’t be good and could get someone seriously hurt … or killed.”

She nodded thoughtfully at that, knowing JJ was right. “And what about personally?”

“Oh, that’s simple.”

Emily looked at JJ who was sitting eagerly at the edge of the chair. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. I want you to be happy and I really think that if you clear up this misunderstanding, you’ll get that chance.”

The case officially came that evening once logistics were ironed out. Penelope sent out the ‘Avengers Assemble’ text to the team on Prentiss’ behalf and that night you took the jet to Albuquerque, NM. A series of disappearances occurred at different campsites where the victim’s cars were left at NomadLand and Enchanted Trails RV park. Word is the victims stopped there for directions and never made it back to their vehicles. Both families called in a missing person report. Two weeks later, a couple of dirt bike riders found the bodies of the missing women off an OHV* trail by Goose Lake. It was roughly a four-hour drive from Albuquerque. The bodies of the women were found naked with signs of sexual abuse and breast mutilation.

You, Rossi and Prentiss were working with Albuquerque detectives on the geographical profile and pouring over cases that may have been missed similar to the current one. Lewis was interviewing family and witnesses while Alvez and JJ were investigating the dump site and talking to the rider that found the bodies.

By the weekend you had the profile of a twenty to thirty-year-old male who not only wants power over his victims by assaulting them, but also expressing deeply rooted anger by disfiguring the victim’s breasts. It more than likely stems from psychology trauma inflicted upon his mother or another female authoritative figure. As the victims were both similar in appearance and age, they suspect a Hispanic unsub.

That brings you to Gabriel Arellano, a thirty-three year old out of Farmington, NM, a city three hours northwest of Santa Fe. He and his three brothers were raised by their single mother, Elisa Arellano. Several calls to CYFD* were made on the children’s behalf, due to Elisa’s drug and alcohol habits and eventually the children were taken away from her and they were put into the foster care system. Once Gabriel finished High School, he made it his mission to raise his siblings, but no one was aware of the sexual abuse his mother unleashed upon him when she was high and intoxicated.

That inner rage was tempered to protect his brothers, making sure that Elisa only abused him. By researching similar kidnappings, the BAU were able to determine that Gabriel’s killings started once his youngest brother, Ricardo, moved out of their shared apartment. Once alone, Gabriel no longer was focused with family obligations and was triggered by seeing a woman that resembled his mother at a construction job per Garcia’s digging. That disappearance happened six years ago. Paula Sanchez’s body was found outside of the Navajo Nation reservation, strangled, raped, and had bite marks on her breasts, focusing on the nipples. He has slowly escalated since.

State PD had issued an APB* on Arellano’s silver 2002 Dodge Charger as he was lying low since the news broke of his involvement. Law enforcement was confident he was still in state but had collaborated with surrounding states to monitor highways for people matching his description and vehicle.

After a lead on Arellano’s whereabouts turned up cold by a Circle K in Hatch, NM, you were driving back to the hotel in Albuquerque. The ride was under three hours and since it wasn’t hot this time of year, you had the window down enjoying the fresh air with classic rock playing. Prentiss was in the passenger seat checking her phone and Rossi was well aware of the tension between the two of you. Tension that had been building over the last week. Emily’s cold behavior had resurfaced after drinks last Friday night and was avoiding you at work as much as possible. Prior to that, the two of you had an easy working relationship and conversation. You sometimes took lunch together in Emily’s office. That came to a sudden halt on Monday.

He glances between the two of you and smiles. “Pretty chilly up front.”

You have your Ray-Ban’s on, so he didn’t notice you looking up at the rearview mirror. He has this knowing smirk on his face and your stomach sinks. You pray he says nothing. Emily doesn’t even acknowledge him.

“Alright. How about this.” He folds his hands atop his jacket. “Mind telling me what’s going on with you two?”

Prentiss keeps scrolling on her phone but not she’s on edge. Or at least was doing a good job pretending. You shrug. “I’d say I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about but clearly that won’t work.”

Rossi half smirks with a chuckle. “The trials and tribulations of working with profilers.”

Prentiss half snorts as you bit your lower lip in thought. You did not want to have this conversation right now with Rossi present. Or really, at all. You’re still mad at Emily.

He starts tapping his thumbs together thoughtfully as neither you or Prentiss comment further. “Come on, ladies. Something’s clearing bothering the two of you.” He pauses patiently. “What happened?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with Papa Rossi,” you dismiss with a half-smile that Prentiss catches.

“Oh, god. That was fucking terrible, Whitlock,” Emily noted with a huff.

Rossi was happy you two were talking but he didn’t understand what happened. “What was terrible?”

“Dave, seriously? You don’t hear it?” Emily says partially annoyed, but you note a hint of amusement.

He’s baffled. “Hear what?”

“Papa Rossi.” You say again and he looks blankly at you still not understanding the joke. “It’s like … paparazzi ya big fancy famous writer man.”

“Ooooh!” His head rocks back as he laughs just as a silver Dodge Camaro passes your SUV on the other side of the two-way highway.

You looked at Prentiss who was looking at you. Dave was laughing cluelessly. There was only one way to find out if this was your guy and that was to go after the driver. You share a nod with Prentiss and suddenly turn the SUV around for U-turn. This wasn’t the first time you’ve done this and purposefully go off roading for a second to even out the car so you don’t tip over. You thank fed tires for being strong enough to not get stuck in the sand.

“Whoa!” Dave exclaims while grabbing onto the headrest of the passenger seat and the door handle. “What the hell Whitlock?!”

“Camaro that matches the description of our unsub just drove past us,” informs Emily as you start back on the main road to catch up.

“On it,” says Rossi, making a call to the New Mexico State Police.

You work the controls under the automatic gear shift to put in a call to Penelope. The car was synched up to your phone by Bluetooth that was secured on a handsfree mount on the dashboard next to the dash camera.

Her face appears on screen. “Hello my lovelies. What’s up?”

Prentiss speaks up first. “Access the dash cam. We need to ID the car in front of us. Might be our unsub.” And as she finishes saying that the Camaro starts burning rubber and speeds off. “Which has now elevated to probably our unsub,” Prentiss updates.

“Doubt they’re running from a ticket,” Rossi says while announcing different markers on the side of the road so state troopers could intercept.

You hit the accelerator and chase after them. “I need real time reports of traffic. We haven’t seen much but in case this gets messy, I don’t want any civilian injuries.”

“Done and done! Oh yeah … uh, that’s our guy. Plate matches.”

Rossi takes over relaying that information. “We have confirmation that we’re in pursuit of the suspect’s vehicle. New Mexico Plate Tango Charlie One Eight Nine Nine.”

“Wait. You’re driving crazy with Dave in there?”

“Well, yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask while Penelope brings real time traffic for you as requested on your display.

“Dave you be careful!”

“I’m the one driving, Pen. Shouldn’t you be telling me to be careful?”

“She’s saying I’m old and don’t have a heart attack,” he says for clarification.

“Don’t worry, Queen Penelope,” you say quickly as you close the distance going ninety and climbing. “I’ve got this.”

“Uh, Queen Penelope?”

You hear the guilt in her voice and call her out on it. “Yeah. Why’s that weird? You are the Black Queen.”

“Right! I’m the Black Queen, hence why you’re addressing me as my sovereign title.” And not because of the chat title she gave herself in the secret chat group she made to discuss two of her favorite people she was staring at during a high speed chase.

“Why you acting weird?” you ask, watching the display and the road ahead of you. There are miles of desert in this area and rest stops. So far, the lack of traffic is on your side.

“Why are you?” Penelope says defensively without meaning to.

“Yeah … no. We’re revisiting this later but right now I need to focus.” You cross the solid yellow line into the opposite lane.

“What are you doing?” Prentiss wonders cautiously.

“Gonna say hi.”

Even Rossi was dumbfounded by this. “Say … hi?”

“Yep.” You speed up and follow alongside the Camaro and see Gabriel is white knuckling the steering wheel.

“Well, that’s definitely our guy.” Prentiss confirms and Rossi relays that information to dispatch as well. What she wasn’t expecting is you waving at the suspect. “What on earth are you doing?”

“I told you; I wanted to say hi.” You see Gabriel meet your gaze and watch his brows raise above the sunglasses in what had to be shock. You then grab Prentiss’ lanyard and hold it up. “Tell him to pull over.”

“I just … I don’t even know what to think about you right now.” Prentiss is exasperated and snatches her ID back as Rossi busts out laughing. “Dave! This is not funny.”

“Actually, it’s quite hilarious and technically by the book.” Dave starts explaining to dispatch what was so funny and then frowns noticing movement in the car. “Oh, looks like he’s reaching for something.”

“Probably a gun,” sighs Prentiss. “It’s always a gun. They can never go quietly.”

“Yep, there it is,” you announce, seeing the flash of metal in the desert sun. “Just needed confirmation.” Then you hit the brakes to confuse Arellano and end up behind the vehicle once more.

Dave was hanging on to dear life and almost dropped his phone. “Warn me next time!”

“OH MY GOD YOU ALMOST KILLED DAVE!” Penelope shrieks over the connection.

“I’m not killing anyone! God. You all need to trust me that I know what I’m doing. And thanks for asking if me and Emily are okay, too,” you bark and straighten out the car.

You both zoom past a small gas station leaving a trail of dust behind and as far as you could tell, the road was continued to be clear, and police were still enroute. You had no visuals either way and it was time to change that. “Pen, we’re still alone out here, right?”

“Ah, yes. No civies and police are about ten minutes away from catching up.”

You surmise that if this goes the way it will, either troopers will open fire on the vehicle and end up killing Arellano, set up tire spikes and have you back off but that would alert him that something was up. You’re aggressively tailing him. There’s also the chance they’ll try and barricade him, and he’ll just slam through it and possibly kill someone.

You keep your eyes up ahead and see Arellano poking his head out to open fire several rounds. You swerve out of the way, rocking everyone inside as tires hit desert sand before pulling the car back onto the pavement. At least he only had a handgun he was currently using, though there may be other weapons in the car, but you make your decision.

“You trust me?” you ask, turning to Prentiss.

Without hesitation, she nods firmly. “I do.”

“Shoot the back right tire after I get him to open fire again. With him distracted, I’m hoping he spins …”

“… off the road. The sand should slow him. Car like that’s not made for driving on sand for too long.”

“And then we surround the car to arrest him while he’s in shock,” finishes Dave.

You hit the accelerator and come up to his right, off roading until you catch up to him as Emily rolls down her window. Emily had her gun hidden from view, but the safety was off and ready to go once you gave her the opening.

You nod your head up and salute Arellano with a cocky grin, which pisses him off after he realizes you were right there again. He quickly points the gun at you. You hit the brake while easing off the accelerator, so all Arellano shot was the passenger window, shattering glass pieces everywhere where you now weren’t. You veer back onto the road, the car’s suspension taking the brunt of force for changing terrain so quickly. You saw how frantic Arellano was trying to control the steering wheel and with you keeping him off guard, it left him open for Prentiss who was already leaning out the window and lining up a shot.

She fires one round into the back right tire as planned and immediately you slow down to bring the car around to the left to avoid impact. The tire blows out with a bang and since Arellano was pulling the steering wheel down to the right, the car spins out in a three-sixty once and diverges off the road. In a panic, Arellano hits the accelerator, kicking up sand and with the loss of traction, ends up spinning his good back wheel deeper into soft sand. He was stuck.

Before he could make a decision on what to do next, you already pulled up alongside his car and put it in park to allow Rossi and Prentiss out. They quickly take sides, pointing their guns at him from both front windows.

Rossi was on the passenger side and saw that in the chaos, Arellano lost his gun. The 9mm was laying on the floor mat of the passenger side.

Rossi tsks as he tries to go for it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Arellano slowly raises his hands, glaring at Rossi with crooked sunglasses. Prentiss keeps the gun training on him while opening the driver’s side. “And you are under arrest Mr. Arellano. Let me list off all the reasons why …”

You were leaning against the SUV with arms crossed watching the state troopers take custody of Arellano from Rossi. It just made sense to wait and hand him off to local authorities, and it was one less thing the BAU had to do. The rest of the team would meet you in the police station in Albuquerque and start the paperwork to tie the case up with a bow for the district attorney.

You became distracted by the sound of the tow truck the troopers called in to take the Camaro. The driver was just finishing attaching the tow hook under the front bumper when you felt another presence join you against the car. You know it was Prentiss, but you honestly had nothing to say to her. Nope. Not even if she still trusted you in the field. Not that it almost made the fight you had in her office sting less.

Emily has her hands tucked into her front pants pockets and watches the car being pulled up the ramp with you. “Your driving was incredible,” she states delicately, testing the waters.

“Thanks.” You then add as an afterthought. “Nice shot.”

“Thanks.”

Silence ensues as you both watch the driver secure the Camaro. You really just want her to go and end this awkwardness, but Prentiss’ stubborn ass is still there.

You hear Emily shift beside you and then a thud. You finally dare to look at her and see her gazing up towards the sky. Silver grey hair was tousled against her shoulders and the car since there was no time for her to put it in a ponytail. Everything happened so fast as the three of you were not prepared for an actionable situation. She looks even more beautiful.

You resist the urge to restart the conversation despite wanting to know what’s on her mind, so you look across the scene and see Rossi looking back at the two of you. He smirks and just walks away and thus, takes away your way out.

Ugh.

“I need to apologize again,” admits Prentiss with a soft voice that takes you by surprise.

You tilt your head slightly while raising your brow. “Won’t hear me arguing.”

She nods. “I deserve that.” You watch her swallow; your eyes dragging along her neck and enjoy the view far too much for your liking before Emily moves her head to catch your gaze. “I am sorry. For the misunderstanding in my office.”

Your eyes squint and give no indication to her if you accept. You need more information. “But why was there one? I mean, I get being miffed that I did my own thing …”

“Miffed?” she questions while cutting you off.

“Put out. Angry. Asserting dominance by being a bitch.” You shrug nonchalantly but Emily heard the underlying hurt in your voice. “Miffed’s being nice, chief.”

“Oh … don’t do that,” Emily says with disappointment.

“Do what?” You know what you did.

“Be all formal like that.”

“Well, I thought we were past all that, but you pulled rank on me.” You didn’t hide the hurt in your voice as you challenged her. “That was Section Chief Prentiss getting pissy with me, so I figured I need to address you that way from now on.”

“But that’s not what I want,” she reveals quickly and that made you pause once your eyes meet brown ones. In that moment, all the sounds became muffled as time slowed. You could feel your heart begin to race under Emily’s intense gaze that were holding all the answers to why your friendship went to shit. You have your suspicions, but it was important to hear it from Prentiss.

“So,” you ask bluntly. “What the fuck do you want? Cuz I’m tried of this bullshit, chief.”

She winces and you hate that as much as you like doing that to her. You want to be vindictive like she was being to you, but in the next breath, you really hate how upset you were making her.

You watch her lips push and pull ever so slightly in thought but somehow, she has the strength not to look away. When her facial features smooth out, you know she comes to a decision and wait for it while holding your breath.

She fists her pants pockets and speaks your name with care. “I want you.”

The air rushes out of your mouth as your chest tightens. You end up playing dumb because you don’t know how to react to this and look away cowardly. “I … what?” Then your defense mechanism kicks in. “Kinda have an audience here, Prentiss.”

She smiles, glad to hear your joke and most importantly you are calling her by her last name again. “Well, I was thinking of a few dates first but hey, we can always give them a show,” she says as her gaze looks out to everyone clearing the scene. She saw Rossi finishing up with a deputy.

“That is the socially acceptable thing to do first,” you agree, then look at her. “But why are you telling me this now? Seems an odd time to do so.”

“That it is.” Her lips press thinly before responding. “I was gonna ask you out last Saturday.”

That made you jerk back and tilt your head in thought. “The day after Fireside?”

“Yes,” she confirms.

“Okay.” You sound as confused as you looked. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I was about to when I overheard your speaking with Brian.”

“Brian?” You’re baffled. “What does my conversation with Brian have to -. Oh …” It finally clicks as you remember your conversation about your ‘date’ with Nina. “Prentiss,” you say teasingly and smirk as she blushes. “All this nonsense was cuz you’re jealous?”

“I am not not saying that,” she sneers, but takes a deep breath before nodding. “But … maybe.”

You’re touched and feel yourself beaming. “Thank you for telling me.”

She looks at you pointedly and sees a resolution reflecting in your eyes. Emily frowns. “But?”

“But this isn’t a good idea. Even with me hitting on you in Russian,” you admit sheepishly.

“So, you do remember!” She grins. “Ass.”

You bow your head at that remark to concede the truth of it.

“And just for the record, I’ve been informed that since Brian is your direct supervisor, you wouldn’t be dating your boss,” she answers, anticipating your next response.

Shit.

Do you keep pressing that you work together and it’s a bad idea despite there being no official reason not to have a romantic relationship with one another. Or do you tell her the truth.

You look down at the sand. “I suck at relationships.” You give her a partial truth.

“That’s alright because you’re in luck.” She says your name and you look up to see her smile knowingly. “I suck at them, too. Like, really suck at them. As JJ will confirm, I’m the master of self-sabotage.”

“Wow,” you chuckle. “That’s a helluva thing to admit to someone you’re asking out.”

“Yes, it is.” Emily kicks at the sand nervously since you still haven’t given her an answer either way.

“You know I don’t date. Like, ever.” You admit and hear Emily’s boots shifting quickly in the sand.

“I, uh, didn’t realize that. But you know I appreciate you telling me this up front instead of stringing me along. Or being utterly rude like I was to you.” Emily was starting to spiral and needed to get away from you to recuperate from this raw emotional state. Damn her for assuming you would just magically forgive her and say yes.

“Hey, Emily?” you start but she was still going.

“No, it’s alright. Thank you for this.” Her smile was all for show, but her eyes were dull and defeated. “We should get Rossi and head back to meet the rest of the te-.”

“Emily, stop!” You say firmly and that halts her from walking away any further. She hesitantly looks at you despite her body thrumming with anxiousness. She was ready to bolt by words or movement. You take a cautious step forward and decide to go all in like Charlie hoped you would. “I mean, I’ve never dated anyone before. Ever.”

Emily quirks a brow as if she didn’t hear that right. “Like … ever?”

“Never, ever.” You kick the sand now and chuckle nervously. “No one came along that mattered.”

Emily’s lips slowly curl into a hopeful smile. “Really? Not even in high school or …?”

You confirm all of that with a nod, which was far more confident than your voice that cracks. “Yep.” With Emily looking so adorable with that admission you look away. “Fuck, Prentiss. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asks taking a step back closer to you with a shit eating, confident grin.

“Fuck it, like that!” you accuse, gesturing at her, with a nervous laugh. Damn her gorgeous smile that just lights up when so thrilled. For once, Emily looks like the weight of the entire world didn’t rest on her shoulders. How could that be because of you?

“So?” she lowers her voice on purpose and stops in front of you, relaxed and back in control of this conversation. You were close enough that if she wanted to, she could reach out and touch you, but she wouldn’t. Not with too many eyes in the vicinity. “Does this mean you’ll allow me the pleasure of taking you out sometime?”

You lick your lips and nervously scratch at the back of your neck, which makes Emily’s eyes light up happily with the effect she was having on you. “Ah fuck it.” You twist your lips, sucking on the lower one as you find the courage to look directly into those gorgeous brown eyes that were distracted by your lips. “Yeah. I’d love to.”

I'm living for the only thing I know I'm running and not quite sure where to go And I don't know what I'm diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Hanging by a Moment cont. - Lifehouse

*Off-Highway Vehicle

*Children, Youth & Families Department

*All-Points Bulletin

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