#but i hope it was worth it and you all enjoy this next installment :')

[llondonfog]

for @bluelightning16 ♥

a very merry (vanrouge) christmas; 2/3

The plan is fool-proof.

Silver lies awake in the warm bed he shares with his father, breath held in his throat, as he listens for the tell-tale sound of the front door hinges protesting with a stale shriek.

He had been painfully vigilant tonight, the soft inside of his forearm raw from all the pinching he had done to keep his troublesome eyes open and ward off the darkness encroaching at the edges of his vision. He had even managed to stave off his papa's curious line of questioning about the double layers of clothing that Silver had gone to bed in, claiming he was still cold from all the romping about he had done in the woods earlier.

And while it doesn't feel good, lying to his father like this especially when he knows how the fae abhor being presented with falsehoods and even more so when leaving their home alone after dusk was one of his father's few cardinal rules, it would all be worth it, he's certain! Tonight of all nights, he had to be able to master his frustrating condition and surprise his father with his resourcefulness, it was for the sake of his Papa's happiness!

As if on cue, the front door performs its grating soliloquy, and Silver scrambles hastily from the sheets to yank on his coat and shove his feet into his leather boots, acorn bracelet secured deep in his pocket. With practiced motions, he slides the bedroom window open, eyes smarting from the immediate winter chill, and shimmies over the ledge to the brief drop on the other side. Pressing himself against the shadows of the cabin wall, he pauses with a mittened hand held over his mouth to keep his breath from crystalizing in the air, ears straining for sound.

"Shall we get going then, boys?"

His father's agreeable tone rings out like a clear bell among the still scenery, and Silver peeks out carefully from around the corner of their home to see the pale moonlight illuminating two taller, cloaked shadows flanking his papa, the three of them drawing close to hold some kind of murmured conference. Closer to him and the tree line near their home sits a walled wooden cart, packed with boxes at least from what Silver can see through its sagging cloth 'curtain'. But it was clearly missing a crucial component, one that Silver couldn't see no matter how hard he squinted in the dim lighting— where was the horse?

Still, it's clear that this is his best option. How shocked Papa would be if Silver popped out from between the boxes and surprised him with his present, what a story he would have to tell Sebek! Swallowing to steel his nerves, he takes one more glance at the gathered figures to ensure their continued conversation, before darting out as quietly as he could be in keeping to the shadows of the bushes and trees. Even the woodland creatures seem to have caught on to his little ruse, not a peep emerging from the snow-capped greenery around him. But as the acorn charms press against his thigh, it's almost as if he can feel their silent encouragement, a palpable delight to see the boy they raise in tandem with the mysterious fae giddy with a rare anticipation.

Nimbly, he squirrels himself away in the cart between a few wooden crates, dragging what seems like a blanket over to disguise his presence lest his father or his other companions decide to peer into the opening. And just in time too, as Silver's heart pounds like a tiny hammer in his chest— the soft crunching of approaching feet in the snow makes itself known, and he presses himself as far back into the warm darkness as possible.

"—send it forward, then?"

The high, sharp voice grates against his ears like his father's weapons against a whetstone; it's not a familiar tone that he's heard before, but that isn't saying much considering their scarcity of visitors and remote home.

"Yes," and the way his father drawls out the command sends an odd shiver down Silver's spine, a sudden dousing of an anxious realization. "They've been on the lam for quite a while now, have they not?"

There's a slight rocking to his hiding place, and Silver realizes from the new closeness of his father's voice that he must have stepped up from where they all have gathered at the front of the cart, placing a hand on one of its shafts. " . . . Winter makes a mockery of us all, men and fae. Their desperation must be at its peak— I have little doubt that their misery far outweighs their scheming, a fact that the Queen is counting on."

They? Who were they? Papa had taught him that their Queen was fair and just, why would she ever want to see anyone miserable? And who could possibly be speaking? Surely it cannot be his papa!

The deliberate words are so tightly laced with cold satisfaction that they squeeze the air out of Silver's lungs and bear no resemblance to the warm phrases of fond amusement and gentle indulgence that have become the cornerstone of his tiny, sheltered world. And he has no time to analyze them further, as in the silence that follows his father's declarations, something utterly strange happens. The world around him, the very air and space itself, seems to twist inwards, bending in a sharp and painful way that rips his awareness from his body in one cruelly eager swoop.

To the three pairs of eyes behind, two perturbed and one newly horrified, the cart winks away into the night, leaving in its wake only the indention it had ever existed in the snow, and a trail of small, unassuming footprints.

[shewroteaworld]

Unsub Bait

Premise: For the fourth time, brilliant sunshine!reader is asked to bait the unsub. For the first time, Spencer has a problem with this.

Word count: approx. 2,000

Tw: canon-typical discussions of violence

Author's Note: Welcome to the second installment of brilliant sunshine!reader (meaning highly intelligent sunshine!reader) x Spencer Reid! While you don't have to read my first brilliant sunshine! reader fic to understand this one, I would highly recommend reading it. It's titled "I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't." Hope you enjoy! :) <3

“Here’s an overview of the first phase of the operation: (Y/N) will go undercover as a college student at Yale. She’ll get acquainted with the unsub at Speakeasy, the New Haven bar where he assesses potential victims. We’ll apprehend him in the act of attempted kidnapping.” Hotchner listed for the team.

You’d played unsub lure almost a comical number of times. Once? That’s a once in a million task required to capture a once in a million unsub. Twice? You’d only have two nickels, but it’s weird that it happened twice, right? But four times? 

You’d already joked to Hotch that you should add “professional unsub bait” to your resume. 

It would’ve been more comical if it wasn’t so scary. 

You took a deep breath as you stared at the photos of the victims on the mahogany conference room table. Melissa Grey. Audrey Bernstein. Alivia Johnson. You could see your 21-year-old self in their eyes. You remember being so young and full of anxiety; you were near graduating from MIT. You couldn’t sleep at night from worrying if you had already lived up to your potential and would spend the rest of your years a washed up gifted kid– an academic has–been. After graduation, you proved to yourself your worth.

The college juniors in the photographs had their lives cut short by the unsub before they had the opportunity to find out what amazing places their brilliant minds could take them. You were about to allow said unsub to nearly kidnap you. 

That is, if you didn’t blow your cover. Then, he would hold you hostage or attempt to kill you as soon as possible by skipping his usual "kidnap and torture" routine.

Rationally, you knew your field experience more than prepared you for this task. Also, you knew your team had your back. They always kept you safe and healthy. The one time you were put at serious risk, you had to fight to be left alone after the case closed. But, you’re not sure if all the facts in the world could adequately calm your adrenal glands.

“Is this necessary?” Spencer suddenly interjected.

You turned to Spencer in surprise. “It’s the quickest way. We have twenty-four hours,” You said.

The unsub had a pattern; a girl was dying once every two weeks, and, when the the local and Connecticut police force combined failed to contain the situation, the BAU was brought into the case 36 hours before the next killing. With his eidetic memory, you were certain Spencer couldn't forget the time restraints if he tried, hence why you were stunned by his sudden brazenness. However, given Spencer's traumatic relationship history and your budding romance, Spencer's behavior was a lot more likely.

You and Spencer had been dating for a couple weeks. Despite being certain the team had their suspicions, you kept your relationship on the downlow. Strong boundaries were a good thing to keep when your relationship was in its fragile, formative era. Plus, you both agreed it was best to keep a high level of professionalism. 

This was the first time Spencer broke protocol.

“I think there’s another way.” Spencer continued. “It’s unsafe and illogical to put anyone’s life into considerable risk if there’s another viable option.”

“Are you implying I’m being rash, Reid?” Hotchner asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Usually, Spence would look away and take a breath. He’d at least have the decency to act timid, especially given the fact the entire team pulled multiple all-nighters in an effort to catch this serial killer. Instead, he leveled with Hotchner’s glare and asserted himself further. “I just think we’ve gotten a little too comfy using (Y/N) as an unsub lure. The more we do, the more probable a disaster will occur with her in the line of fire.”

“Spencer,” Morgan cut in gently. There was sympathy in his eyes. “We’ve done this with (Y/N) before. We’re good at reading her. And she knows the drill. We’ll keep her safe.”

“Yes, because that’s something we can certainly guarantee when she’s 3 inches from a serial killer.” Spencer deadpanned. 

“Reid. A word.” Without waiting for Spencer’s reaction, Hotch left the meeting room. With a hard look in his eye, Spencer filed after Hotch. You were relieved he was still obedient despite being ornery.

For a few moments, the team sat in silence. 

Rossi broke the spell with the scrape of his chair. “Well, I for one, am going to take this impromptu intermission as an opportunity to grab coffee. Any requests?” Rossi asked. 

“I’ll take a barbajada.” You joked half-heartedly. 

“Very funny, (L/N). Any requests the office Keurig can complete in less than five minutes?” 

The team rattled off their go-to office drink orders, but it faded to white noise. During your friendship, Spencer would always care for you when you had to lure the unsub. He’d be more attentive on the jet ride in and out. He’d check in on your mental state directly after the unsub was arrested and always called you once you got home. Once, after the particularly stressful unsub encounter, he sent you links to PTSD articles and even offered to help you schedule an appointment with a specialized therapist through the FBI’s mental health services.

But he’d never once intervened with a plan for you to go undercover. You knew Spencer Reid was nothing if not rational. He knew Hotch valued every member of his team. He knew Hotch would never send you undercover if it wasn’t necessary to stop a killing spree before more young women became statistics. 

Therefore, you knew Spencer was thinking about Maeve. 

You stood. 

“Where you going, Beauty Queen?” Morgan asked.

“Just heading to the restroom.” You lied. 

You walked down the hall and crept up the stairs. You tiptoed down the east wing of the second floor to avoid clicking your heels against the concrete. 

You crept to the side of Hotch’s office. You pressed your back to the wall.

Hotch said something indecipherable. An angry Reid answered.

“And all I’m saying is, she is not a cat with nine lives! She has one life. One precious life, that I think we’ve been a little too careless with.”

“Reid, you know I would never risk putting (Y/N) in harm’s way if it wasn’t the best course of action. She’s experienced with this. The team is experienced with this.” 

A beat of silence passed.

“Promise me that if you have so much as an inkling her life is in danger–”

“We’ll do everything in our power to get her out of there.”

“That’s the thing! ‘Everything in our power…’ It’s not enough. How many times have we told families we did everything we could when all they have left is a body bag?” 

Your heart froze. Both of the voices lowered. You could only catch bits and pieces of Hotch’s speech. You were never an eavesdropper, but despite your better nature, you crept around the corner towards the door.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone to an unsub, Spencer. I know how it sticks with you. I know how it changes the job. But you have to trust us– the team. We’re going to protect her. And we’re going to be there for you,” Hotch said. 

Spencer sighed. "How did you do it?" Spencer's voice cracked. "After Haley, Hotch? I’m not sure if I can survive this.” He sounded seconds away from tears. 

At that moment, you knew you would not sleep comfortably at night if you continued to be a fly on the wall.  You tiptoed back down the east wing and waited for Spencer at the bottom of the stairs.

Ten minutes passed before Spencer appeared at the top of the staircase.

“Spencer?” You called. 

His hazel eyes were tinged pink. He walked down the stairs nonchalantly. “Hey, um, would you mind if we discussed part of the case file real quick? Privately? It could help, um…” He cleared his throat. “Develop your persona.”

“Yes, of course.” 

Spencer didn’t look at you as he power walked down the hall towards the janitorial closets. For the first time since you started dating, he didn’t adjust to your walking pace. 

He flung a door open and yanked you inside. 

Carelessly, Spencer slammed the door behind you. Before you could get a word in, he pulled you into a bear hug.

“Spencer.” You whispered. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

He nuzzled his nose into your hair. 

You stood in the statue of a hug for two minutes.

“I can’t lose you.” Spencer whispered.

“You won’t.”

Spencer pulled away from you. He bent down to look you in the eye. He squeezed your shoulders. His eyes danced with emotion. There was a deep ache, a whirlpool of sadness that you knew a lifetime may never heal. What perplexed you was the hardness that you could only read as anger. 

“I…” He sighed. He hung his head. He dragged his palms down the slope of your shoulders to your forearms. It was like he was taking a cast of you with his hands. 

“I’m not dead on arrival. I’m still here. I’m coming back on that jet ride home with you. I’m going to be okay.” You reciprocated his shoulder squeeze. “You’re going to be okay.”

Spencer shook his head. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I care about you. It’s a part of the girlfriend package.” Spencer pulled you into another constricting hug. 

 “I can’t fathom how difficult this must be for you.” You whispered.

Spencer pressed his forehead to yours. “Promise me when you go out there, you won’t worry about me. I want you to only focus on you, your surroundings, and making sure you get out of there.”

“I promise, Spencer.” You said, though you weren’t sure if that would be the truth.

“And one more thing,” He said. His irises were so close to yours you could pick apart the layer of green and brown. “As soon as you feel unsafe, you call someone. If you have any inclination he’s going to overtake you–”

“I call the team.”

He took a step back and ran his hands through his hair. “I know you’re strong. I’m not trying to insult your field work.”

Your heart cracked. “Spencer, love, I know that. I’m so happy you care about me. I just wish this situation hurt you less.”

He dropped his hands to his sides. His brows furrowed. He stared at a random point to the left of your face.

“Can you do something for me? Before we leave?” He asked, still not meeting your gaze.

“What is it, Spence?”

He took a deep breath. He met your eyes again. “Dance with me.” 

“What?”

“Dance with me. I…” He inhaled deeply. “I never got to dance with Maeve before she…I barely even got to hold her. I won’t make the same mistake twice.” 

You closed the distance between you and Spencer. You cupped his face in your hands, and he instinctively leaned into your touch. His eyes shone with tears. “I’ll dance with you for the rest of my days, Spence.” 

He whipped out his phone. He turned on a slow jazz song you played for him last winter on an impromptu hot chocolate date. 

Your heart skipped a beat. You could go on that same date again, but it would have a whole new color to it. 

He slid his phone onto a cleaning supply shelf. He pulled you to his chest. Your head nestled right beneath his collarbone. You wrapped your arms around his mid back.

You danced, bodies pressed together like puzzle pieces, in silence until the song ended. The symphony of emotions didn’t cease with the final brush of the snare. 

Spencer continued swaying with you.

“I’m going to be okay.” You whispered.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You can’t promise me that.” He held you even tighter. “But I can promise you I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you come home to me.” 

Author's Note: Hello to all my new followers! I'm so glad you're here! I'm so grateful for the overwhelmingly positive reception to "I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't." Hope you enjoyed this piece as well!

I hope you have a great day or night wherever you are in this crazy world.

xoxo,

shewroteaworld

[suzukiblu]

Day eleven of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems that causes for someone who was in that situation and hasn’t processed it trying to have a relationship with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Uh–is it?” he asks, not really sure what else to say. Or more like, not really sure what else to say that would not sound both desperately, desperately horny and desperately, desperately weird. 

“I dunno,” Kon replies, giving him a quick, sheepish little smile. “Just makes me feel good, that you think I’m worth, like–taking out and showing off, or whatever. Like–without the S-shield on, even.” 

“The S-shield would definitely make date night a lot harder to enjoy, yeah,” Tim says, torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to dissolve the entire entertainment industry and all of Kon’s previous romantic interests in acid from the ground up. Slowly. Kon blushes again, his smile widening. 

“And, uh–and that,” he says, glancing sidelong. “And that you wanna hang out with me without anybody interruptin’.” 

I want to hang out with you until I overthrow Gotham AND Metropolis and then I want to install a zeta between them and the biggest beachfront property you’ll let me buy for you and any little Kon 2.0’s you let me make you, Tim’s most insane self thinks and his slightly more rational current self does not say, because he has at least some small and tiny and miniscule scraps of self-control. 

Like, barely, and only lasting until the fifteen-year sidekick-to-supervillain plan goes off, but still. 

“I definitely don’t want anyone interrupting, no,” he agrees instead, and Kon beams at him again and then ducks in and kisses him again–just a quick little peck, but definitely still a kiss. Tim, belatedly, realizes that Kon might actually be getting more up in his space than he was before the whole . . . script issue happened. Just–standing closer, and leaning in a little more often, and things like that. Not in a demanding way or anything; just like he wants to be there a little more often. 

Like maybe he’s a little more comfortable being there, now. Or like maybe he thinks he can do it without anything being–expected from it, maybe. 

Tim doesn’t even know if Kon’s doing it on purpose or not, but he’s definitely noticing a difference either way. Just–there is very much a difference there to be noticed. 

He is definitely, definitely not going to be able to find out who any of Kon’s exes are before he goes supervillain. That’s just not going to work out for his timeline at all. 

Also Bruce would absolutely get upset if he found out about whatever he ended up doing about it, and he’s an emotional support sidekick, not, like, an intern or whatever. He is not here to cause problems, he is here to facilitate Bruce’s mental health, help him manage his paranoia, and minimize the amount of overkill beatings of petty thugs and small-time criminals. 

Admittedly Bruce managing his paranoia is not going great, but it’s a process, alright? He’s doing his best here. 

“So like, if we do go shopping again, wanna pick something out for me to wear for you next time?” Kon asks, still beaming at him. Tim’s brain attempts to reboot a couple dozen times before he manages to remember how to string a coherent sentence together. 

“Yes,” he says in an almost normal-person voice. Maybe. Theoretically. He . . . hopes, anyway. “Uh–yeah. That sounds, uh–like something I would like to do.” 

It’s a little harder to focus on the supervillain thoughts with Kon both wearing that expression and actually asking him to buy him something–especially specifically something he wants to wear for him–so that’s helpful for keeping to his timeline. But also, uh–embarrassing, kind of, because usually Tim is better at thinking than he currently is being. Like, his normal thought processes are a lot more involved than Kon’s so hot and Kon’s so CUTE and hurr durr pretty boy. 

He definitely still wants to ruin some people’s lives, but first he wants to get Kon dinner and dessert and buy out a boutique or four for him, and just like, a small suburb. Or town. City. Tri-state area. 

And also to pick out something for him to wear “next time”, since apparently Kon still wants there to be a next time that he sees Tim Drake and also just like . . . just the whole thing with the picking out something for him to wear thing, because Tim only has so much self-control, alright? He is doing his best here, but he’s only an emotional support sidekick, alright, he’s not made of stone. 

Seriously, Kon asked him to dress him and asked him to buy him something. Tim is not actually sure if he’s more thrilled about actually getting Kon to specifically ask him to buy something for him or frazzled over Kon offering to let him pick out something for him to wear. Just–god. Tim is just not even–Tim does not know what he’s feeling right now. Just–whatever it is, he is feeling it. 

He wonders if it would be, like, a little too pathetic of him to maybe get Kon another crop top. Or, uh, a little too thirsty of him. 

. . . probably, yeah. Probably definitely, in fact. 

. . . . . . but like, if Kon sees one he likes, it's not like Tim's gonna say no or–

Anyway. 

[tinydefector]

Okay. You've got me invested on the newest installation of Human Effects.

Now I can't stop imagine both Humans and Mechs alike having some sort of Google Form where they click on the Human/Mech they want to fuck and see which is the most desired amongst their respective species.

Now that I think about it, I think there'll be a lot of fighting. And chaos.

But then again, we live for the drama.

Human Effects Lost Records

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: talk of sex, human/alien, pornhunting

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Lab logs

Did I take this as an opportunity to merge Human effects and laboratory logs together into a series yes I did. I'll be working on the human Effects timeline where human Effects 2 is spin-off pieces from the mainline.

_____________________

The Holo, cyber and inter webs had a strange beauty to them. It has given many the ability to communicate with different planets, species, to share culture, laughter, debates, videos And all sorts thanks to the many different satellites floating out in space. Everyone also enjoyed it for the use of downtime the most. Some had taken to enjoying Earth's entertainment platforms such as YouTube, Netflix and many other sights, others fell into more depraved sights such as Reddit, Twitter,Tumblr, Pornhub, interlink, Processed and other sights. 

Commlink: post Humans Aboard BLO freight.

BigBotNoStop: Alright mechs, I come bearing an inquiry. As you may have heard from some of my last posts, the newest additions to our crew are a thriving colony of soft, squishy humans. Word in the taproom is some have taken quite an interest in... extending cultural exchanges, if you catch my drift. Not really my field of experience and was hoping some of Xeno's here might have some input. 

Posted to Sublink: Human and cybertronian relationships?

But I'm curious, are interspecies acts even possible without harm? Their frames seem so fragile. One wrong motion and SPLAT! No more humans. quite a few members of our crew have shown interest in flirting... Thoughts? Suggestions for how to proceed with care- help a mech out!

Blazemech: Yo! You got fleshies on your ship! Fragging jealousy!. Your ship is looking for any dock workers?

TailOrTrails: Oh Primus, are we really having this discussion?? Look, I get the appeal of those soft little flesh bags. Really, I do - different wiring can be so freakin' hot. But there's no way a romp with one of those puny things ends well for them! Even accidentally bumping into a table puts them in the medbay. Think of the mess, One wrong thrust and you've got squish all over your plating.

ISOCLEAN: Just download some holofacing and use your imagination if you're that jonesing for an organic interface. Trust me, it's not worth the risk - or hassle of cleaning up after. sure you can find something from the Human sites on Mechanophilia, slutty Show and shine or Car Washes. Stay shiny and keep those servos to yourself, mechs! Some curiosities are better left to fantasies.

Flyboi69: Don't leave a mech hanging, I want deets!, has anybot here actually gotten friendly with a fleshie before? I'm talking about hands-on experience. We've all gotten curious watching, but has the real thing lived up to the fantasy? 

Pimptheride: Any tips for coaxing one into the berth, or does their tiny size mean you've got to take it slow and gentle? And most importantly... any videos out there of the deed? A mech's gotta do some, ah, research before taking the plunge. Hook a brother up if you've found any good amateur organic-on-mech action out there in the 'net. Gotta see it to believe it. 

ScienceSorcerer: For reasons. Does anyone know if humans have both Spikes and Valves? Or if they have any human anatomy holos or books and such from Earth they are willing to sell for some decent Shanix.  

T-Wrexz: Primus, you mechs are hungrier than fragging scraplets. As far as I know, relations between our kinds are still uncharted territory. Could be amazing, could end badly - who's to say until we try? Personally I'm keeping an optic out, just curious to see what new experiences those squishy aliens can offer us tough metal mechs. 

Bar-rizzla: Oho, look who's swapping tall tales. I've been keeping a close optic on our ships squishy company since they came aboard. And between you and me... I may have an in with their ambassador that could lead to some juicy first-hand intel. Just trying to track down the bot we think they are berthing with. Crews got bets out. Turns out they get just as curious about us big metal hunks as we are them!. The other night, their chat got particularly saucy after a few drinks. Lots of gossip and speculation about which lucky bot one of them might take for a private ride. 

WPHAS-Violation: I may have a certain special "human entertainment" vid I could share. Let's just say the organic in question got quite... friendly with an eager mini-con. You know where to find me if you're brave enough to watch! 

Tapemix54: Oho, mechs - think you've got it bad now? You should've seen some of the real deviants back before the war. When I was still stationed on Petrex, I knew this one smuggler - went by the name Rattler. Sneaky little scraplet, but Primus if he didn't have the wildest stories. Rattler used to run goods across time and space, dodging security at every turn. He'd pop up out of nowhere selling the rarest exotic "pets" to rich senators and other high caste mechs looking for a thrill. I'm talking aliens so bizarre even our data banks had never heard of their kind. But the highest bidder always walked away with a new "plaything" to break in, if you catch my drift. Word was Rattler even had a collection of sentient organics that he'd let special clients "test drive" between runs. Humans were apparently a favourite - their smaller frames could take all sorts of creative handling. Rattler had vids, too, of course, to entice buyers. I saw one once, let's just say "versatile" doesn't begin to cover it. Naturally the vids have all been scrubbed by now. But I bet if you knew where to dig in the deep web or some easily swayable Archivist, you might find traces of Rattler's stash still floating around out there.

 T-Wrexz: Whoa, whoa, slow your intake there tapemix! As much as I love a good far-fetched tale, I gotta call scrap on this one. Humans weren't even around back then, much less roaming the streets of Rodion as black market pets, I'm all for imagining exotic interface scenarios, but let's keep the stories at least somewhat rooted in known history, yeah?. Last I checked it was probably fabricated by Caminus cartels to make their actual goods seem tame. 

A few other mechs agree with T-Wrexz before a few kliks later a new post is put up. 

Post: 

"Old Iacon records saved of the Senator and his human Conjunx”

It's a file collection of holotapes and pictures: "Enjoy these are pre war photos of Senator Shockwave and his Human holding their sparkling" 

There are many holos and videos of the long gone senator smiling with his human perched on his shoulder, in the crystal garden with a young sparkling held in the human's arms. Videos of the sparkling playing with the two but the last The last holo looks like a family portrait with Shockwave’s frame in a lime green blue white paint with gold accessories,  his human lover is dressed in elegant robes and the small blue praxian sparkling held in their arms. Each holo is dated with the Iacon records seal of authentication. 

FlyBoi69: NO FREAKIN' WAY. Is this real?! *downloads files faster than Blurr* FRAG ME SIDEWAYS, I think I just popped a gasket! How in the PIT did you manage to dig up the holos of senator Shockwave, most of his speeches, debates and lectures were wiped. Where did you find this! 

Jackin0: of all mechs, with an actual human back in the Golden Age?!. I'm calling scrap on this being real. It's gotta be a flawless deepfake. By PRIMUS if true - to think ol' Shockers was living it up with a squishy. Maybe there's more to those Senatorial types than meets the optic...

T-Wrexz: Okay, I'll bite... but someone better explain to me RIGHT NOW how any of this computes! Last I checked, time travel and inter-species relationships were the stuff of erotic imagination, not legitimate pre-war archives. Tapemix, you better start talking. Where in the PIT did you source these files? How do we know they're authentic and not just an incredibly convincing parlour trick? Because if I'm gonna let these images ruin me, I wanna be ruined by the real deal! Spill it, mech. 

Iacon-Records: Tapemix54 could i please request where you discovered these as i work with Iacon records and this here is history that needs to be preserved. I'm willing to talk with you through a contractor if you would be willing for us to add these back into the new hall of records. Cybertron has lost so much and to find something like this I ask that we find a way to preserve it.  

BigBotNoStop: Pit take me now... I think I may have to reassess everything I thought I knew about interface and partnerships. That human is holding a sparkling curled around them - frag if it isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! If anything could make me believe in miracles, it's this! Tapemix, you glorious glitch - how can I ever repay such an enlightening gift?

Tapemix54: These were filed only cycles after Shockwaves Emputra; they were added to the Iacon records by some Archivist under the title. 'I will Remember you for who you were'. This was right when the senate fell apart on the brink of the war. From my knowledge of information on Rattler he apparently had an outlier who he got to take them to different times since he was a shuttle made it easier to transport. That's from the  records that still exist at least. I'll take you up on that offer Iacon-records. 

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photos in the collection

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[fuzzybirdie]

Hero of Changing Faces

ch.1 pt 2

The line for the ride was a bit shorter than expected, but then again, it was 9 in the morning. There also seemed to be an event going on somewhere in the park, some people (actors?) were walking arround in the restricted area wearing clown masks and absurdly large shoes. After the ride, he'd have to ask where the event is so he could avoid it. (Clown trauma)

The ride had 12 seats, 6 rows of 2. And danny was sat right in the middle, row 3. The bar came down, securing everyone in their seats, and they were off. The lift part was covered in a bat themed tunnel, to give people something to look at during the slowest part of the ride. There was a PA system installed as well to welcome people to the ride, or warn of emergencies when getting off the ride.

"Welcome one, Welcome all, to the Ride of your Life!" The announcer/operator had a flamboyant cadence to his voice and was very openly enjoying his job. "About halfway through the track, riiight after the loopdeloop, there is a hole in the tracks! And unless our Dear Batsy can find a way to stop the ride, everyone here will take aaaa eeehhh 20-30 meter drop to their deaths!"

Danny no longer thought the person cackling on the PA was an announcer.

Sure enough, as they saw when they exited the bat-lift-tunnel, right there, after the loopdeloop was a giant gap in the tracks.

Now, Danny would be fine. Being in his ghost form would ensure that - heck, just being a halfa would ensure that! Everyone else though? Very very solid humans. And humans, being solid rather than gasseous would go 'splat' very easily. So, Danny Needed to stop the ride.He could freeze the wheels to the tracks, and the gears to each other? Worth a shot.

Danny grabbed the sides of the ride, reaching over the gentleman beside him, which he'd appologise for later, and began carefully branching ice toward the rails. The ride was slowing down, but not enough. "Holy shit!" The mother behind him whispered "Are you freezzing the wheels?"

"Not enough" Danny grunted, his ice reaching more towards the gears and couplings."You can do it, chum." The gentleman soothed, placing a warm hand on his back.

"Focus on the axles," a girl in stained overalls advised, "they run right along a vehicles undercarrage, and are integral to making wheels move. If this is anything like a car there should be some."

Danny nodded, slowly expanding his ice all over, as everyone whispered encouragements. The ride got slower and slower until they got to that loopdeloop. Everyone closed their eyes and braced for impact as Danny let out one final push of ice.

The ride climbed,

Jolted,

And stopped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Thanks for reading! This is chapter 1 done, chapter 2 is written, and I'll post that maybe in a week? Anyways! Hope you enjoyed! And even though it's not quite showing it yet, this story is fully based on the prompt i've linked below. Go check it out!

Edit: I FORGOT HALF THE TAGS!

[dianneking]

The Affair - Chapter 2 (Larissa/Reader)

Hello everyone, here's the second installment to this little fic. Writing has been slow-going but the kind comments I got on chapter 1 both here and on AO3 were a great motivation to put in the work when I had the time and brainpower to do so. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Larissa Weems/You Rating: Mature Tags: Alcohol consumption, Morally Ambiguous Character, Swearing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Seduction, Second-person POV, Teacher Reader, Power Imbalance.

AO3 link in title below

< Previous Chapter - Next Chapter (tbc)

Chapter 2 - Private Booth

“I must admit this is highly unprofessional of me, but I cannot help but find you incredibly alluring, darling.” She murmured in your ear and you heard a breathy laugh exiting your mouth, feeling as if it came from miles away. 

You weren’t sure how the evening had evolved to this point, if you had to be perfectly honest. You were sure you both had been the picture of professionality at the start of your dinner together, sitting primly at the table in the private booth, ordering a light meal and talking about lesson plans and your previous work experiences.

You had been nervous, but except for the unusual setting, it hadn’t been that different from countless other meetings you’d had with principals. And, you mused as you took a bite of your salad, to be honest you appreciated having this conversation over food for once instead than in a stuffy office. 

Was it some sort of cultural difference that outcasts had? Or was it a peculiarity of the woman sitting in front of you? She seemed like someone who was more than able to disregard rules if she wanted to. 

You found yourself liking that, despite your usual aversion for rule breaking.

Then…then Larissa (she had asked you to call her Larissa at some point, you were sure of that) Larissa had offered to share a bottle of wine “to toast together at a fruitful collaboration” and you had had half a mind to turn the offer down, but found yourself agreeing. Why the hell not? It had been ages since you drank some good wine, and your principal looked like the kind of woman who’d only choose good alcohol. 

“You have great taste,” you had commented, sipping on your first glass, and it had been at that moment that you had felt the energy in the booth starting to shift. She had dabbed her mouth on her napkin, and let her eyes roam over your figure for a handful of seconds more than it was polite to do before replying, “Oh of course. I very rarely lose my time when it’s not worth it.” Her lips had curved up in a smirk and you had had to take another sip of that wine to give time to your suddenly galloping heart to slow down a bit. Surely she was still talking about the wine, wasn’t she?

But then the conversation had moved on and you thought you had imagined the flirty undertone. Surely she wouldn’t be the type to do something like that, would she? Even if you hadn’t actively sought out gossip, surely you would have heard if Nevermore’s principal was a serial seducer, right? 

Larissa had been an extremely pleasant conversationalist, and often you found yourself invested in the latest anecdote from one of her travels, or her opinion on one subject or another. You laughed at her recounting of the antics of her students, and were amazed at the lavish traditions of Nevermore that she insisted on educating you on. 

You could have listened to her talk all night long, looking at how her face danced with emotions, how the passion she had for her job and her loyalty to her school shone in her voice as well as her eyes. And the way she ran her tongue against her teeth every now and then had you completely mesmerized. You were hanging on her lips and had given up feeling self conscious about it. You wanted to know more about this mysterious lady. You wanted to know all that she’d be willing to tell you.

And you were acutely aware that you still hadn’t discovered what exactly had happened that had left her for several months on sick leave. The students talked of an attack of undead  to the school but you were sure those were exaggerations, and that there was a less…fanciful explanation. Teenagers are known for making a big deal out of small mundanities. Even taking that into account, it seemed like mysteries surrounded this woman, wrapping around her like the subtle yet lingering scent of her perfume. 

“You smell amazing.” You had blurted out, and almost clapped a hand over your own mouth, horrified at your sudden boldness. That was not something to say to your boss who apparently still had the power to fire you if she somehow found you lacking! 

But she hadn’t bristled, nor had she seemed in any way angry or offended. She had simply chuckled lightly, and busied herself with swirling wine inside her glass with slow, hypnotic movements.

“Thank you, dear. It’s Ambre Nuit, by Dior, obviously.”

“...Obviously.” You had parroted back, even though you knew nothing about perfumes and even less about Dior. Your eyes were glued to her hand, still cradling the bowl of the wine glass. You had not noticed until now just how long and tapered and beautiful her fingers were. How effortlessly they curled on the glass shoulder to loosely swirl its contents. A part of you wondered how those hands would feel on your body.

“You know? You could smell it even better if you came to sit beside me…there’s plenty of space on this bench…” her voice had trailed off, and it might have been the wine coursing in your system, but this time you felt like you could almost taste the promises in her voice. 

And that’s how you had found yourself squeezed besides her on the bench, your thigh pressed against hers, the fabric of her dress and of your trousers the only thing separating your skin from making contact with hers. You were acutely aware of how dimmed the lights had been in the private booth, and how the waiters had stopped coming around after they had delivered your desserts. 

A perfect setup, suggested the romantic part of your brain, a part that was often overlooked and laid dormant in the day to day routine.

A perfect trap, countered the more cynical part, who couldn't help but wonder how many times had the beautiful woman beside you put on this show for her latest prey. 

It just all seemed so effortless for her. She mixed her flirting (it had to be flirting by now, right?) with more easygoing topics, she kept topping your glass off with that lovely wine, as well as drinking just as much herself. One part red flag, one part irresistible temptation.  

And it was at that point that she had leaned over, and you had felt her breath hot on your ear, and you were sure you had drank way too much wine because just that little puff of air made your skin erupt in goosebumps and your head spin. 

“I must admit this is highly unprofessional of me, but I cannot help but find you incredibly alluring, darling.”

“I must be dreaming” you said before your common sense could stop you, the tingling of your giggle still in your throat.

But not even in your wildest dreams could you have imagined how her hand felt as it fell on your thigh, light as a feather, but making your skin burn white hot even through the fabric.. 

“Well I suppose I’ll have to pinch you then.”

---------------

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[cfierce116]

No Sleep Part Two

A/N: Thank you to everyone for the support for Part One. Hope you all enjoy the next installment. Also, if anybody wants to be tagged for updates please let me know.

*Pairings: Jey Uso/OC (black fem)

*Warnings: 18+

*Word Count: Approximately 4600 words.

“I shoulda went home.” 

Imani smacked her lips as she rolled onto her other side trying to find a comfortable position in the queen sized bed in Sefa and Krystle's guest room. It was several hours after dinner and she was trying to force herself to get a few hours of sleep before she had to drag herself to work. Once the group returned to the couple's house, the liquor continued to flow (or water in Imani's case because she refused to have a hangover at work) as they played cards and listened to music. Like at dinner, the conversation flowed easily and despite her earlier protests Imani was happy she decided against ending her night early especially since she got to spend extra time with Josh. As the night continued in Imani found herself relaxing more around Josh. He was easy to talk to and actually seemed interested in whatever she had to say. Watching him and Sefa crack jokes on one another reminded her of watching her own three older brothers doing the same whenever they reunited during the holidays.

However, the later it got the more drowsy Imani got. She was not lying when she told Krystle that her days of partying into the wee hours of the morning were long gone and even her staying up until a quarter to 3 AM was pushing her limits. Imani quickly lost the battle against Krystle, Sefa, and Josh to order an Uber to go back to her apartment which is how she eventually wound up in the guest room. On one hand she was grateful to have friends that cared about her wellbeing that also had a guest room for her to crash in.

But on the other hand, she wanted to strangle both Krystle and Sefa for keeping her awake with the loud giggling happening in the room next to her as Sefa did God knows what to her best friend's body.

Don’t get her wrong she was happy for her best friend finding the love of her life. The two of them were perfect for one another. However, Imani could’ve been happy for them without hearing them get frisky with each other since she herself was in the middle of a year long dry spell. 

It wasn’t as if her dry spell was intentional. After her latest heartbreak with another man who decided to show his true colors after wasting Imani’s time for two years, Imani made the choice to take a break from dating and focus on her career and working on herself. Learning how to enjoy being single and figuring out who she was without letting her personality be dictated by whoever she was dating at the time. After a year of self reflection, Imani finally decided she was ready to dip her toe back into the dating pool to see what was out there. 

But all she found was trash. Nothing but trash. 

After a few dates Imani still hadn’t made a connection with anybody. There was either no spark between her and the men that sat across from her, the date reminiscent of going to grab a quick bite to eat with one of her older brothers. Or she detected a red flag that sent her running far away as quickly as she could, determined to not allow herself fall into the familiar trap of her thinking she could ignore the flags and fix the man instead. While some people (namely her mom Joyce who was desperate for a grandchild from her only daughter) thought Imani might have been setting her expectations and requirements too high, she believed she was simply weeding out the men who weren’t right for her because she would be damned if she would waste her time on a man that wasn’t worth it. And if she had to remain single until she met her perfect match then so be it.

Yet there were still nights like tonight, where she was being subjected to hearing her best friend’s moans over her head when the loneliness felt extremely suffocating. 

Deciding she couldn’t handle listening to the frolicking going on next door, Imani quietly slipped out of the bed and started searching for her belongings. If she left now, she could make it back to her place within thirty minutes. She folded the dress she wore earlier into a neat pile and grabbed her heels off the floor opting to carry them instead of wearing them so Krystle wouldn’t discover her trying to leave. Regardless of being an adult and knowing she could make whatever decision she wanted, Imani really didn’t want to deal with another repeat of Krystle trying to convince her to stay the night.  

Imani stepped out of the guest room and sneakily walked towards the stairs, easing down each step before reaching the main floor. She reached inside her purse and pulled out her phone to request another Uber ride.

“Sneakin out?” 

Imani quietly yelped at the voice behind her and quickly twirled around.  Her eyes landed on Josh who stood in the kitchen drinking a bottle of water. She stopped her gaze from traveling over his body, his chest bare and showing off his intricate tribal tattoos and his lower half covered in a pair of gray basketball shorts. Imani placed her hand over her chest as she tried to catch her breath – whether it was from Josh startling her or the image before her she didn’t know. 

“I am not sneaking out.” 

Josh smirked. “So why you tiptoein around here with your stuff?” 

“I didn’t wanna disturb anybody that’s all.” Imani and Josh held their stare before erupting in laughter. “Fine. You caught me. I am sneaking out. But I shoulda just took my ass home in the first place. It’s so hard for me to sleep anywhere besides my bed and having to listen to those two act like horny teenagers I can’t get a wink of sleep.” 

“What was it that you told me at dinner? Be nice - they’re annoying but they’re sweet,” Josh joked with a laugh. 

Imani rolled her eyes. “Fuck that I like my sleep. I don’t see how you stay here when you come visit.” 

“It usually don’t bother me because I can sleep through anything. But since I’m sleepin’ in the guest room down here I can barely hear em.” 

Imani furrowed her brow. “There’s not a guest room down here.” 

“You standing in it.” 

Imani glanced behind her to see a bedsheet and a pillow on the couch behind her. “You’re sleeping in the living room?” 

Josh shrugged as he finished the last drop of water. “I ain’t picky. Just gimme a flat surface and I can fall asleep anywhere,” he said as he walked to the corner where the trash can and recycling bin sat dropping the empty bottle into the bin. 

Imani watched as Josh walked to the couch and plopped down, stretching his legs out in front of him. She dropped the items in her hand on a chair and walked in front of him, placing a hand on her hip.

“Wait you usually sleep in the room upstairs? Why didn’t y’all just say that? I coulda slept down here.” 

“I’m not lettin’ you sleep on a couch Imani. It’s fine I told you I’m not picky.” 

Imani pushed away the guilt she felt for taking the guest room from Josh as she gently dropped down on the couch next to him. She flashed him a small smile. “Thanks for the drinks tonight. Although I should’ve stopped at one shot.” 

“It’s yo birthday. A few shots ain’t gonna hurt,” Josh said with a wink. He glanced over Imani’s body that was now dressed in a pair of gray leggings Krystle loaned her to sleep in with an oversized white t-shirt. Her hair was tossed into a messy high ponytail exposing her slender neck that was adorned with a simple thin gold necklace. ”So did you enjoy yo’self tonight?” he asked after a few seconds of silence. 

“You know I actually did. It felt nice to let loose and relax for a few hours,” Imani answered with a smile. “Sorry you had to spend one of your few off days tagging along to a birthday dinner so I wouldn’t feel like a third wheel loser.” 

Josh smacked his lips. “Ay, you not a loser.”

“I’m just saying I’m sure you could’ve found something better to do with your time. Call up one of your many girlfriends to link up with.” 

Josh softly laughed and ran his hand over his hair, pushing it off his forehead temporarily before it fell back in place, errant strands framing his face. “Look I ain’t gonna sit up here and pretend I couldn’t have called up some other woman to hang with tonight.” 

“Of course you could’ve.” 

“But I didn’t because I wanted to spend time with you. And I had fun,” Josh said with a smirk. “None of them other chicks are you Imani.” 

Imani chuckled softly. “Wow Krys was right. You are a charmer.” 

A heavy silence filled the room after Imani’s statement and she mentally kicked herself. She barely knew Josh and here she was being her typical sarcastic self that she usually reserved for her conversations with Krystle. Turning to mumble a quick apology to Josh before getting ready to head home, Imani movements halted as her eyes locked with his. Intensity burned in his gaze as he stared at her making her stomach flutter with nervousness as her skin’s temperature increased, sweat gathering on her palms and between her legs.

At least she thought that was sweat. 

“I sho-“

“You really don’t get it do you?” 

Imani’s face crinkled with confusion. “I don’t know what you mea-“

Imani’s words instantly died on her lips as Josh quickly thread his fingers through her ponytail and pulled her face closer to his, smashing his lips against hers. The movement caught her off guard as her body stumbled backwards from the impact. A few seconds later her brain registered what was happening and she naturally relaxed in Josh’s arms, wrapping her arms around his neck as she returned the kiss. His plush lips moved in unison with hers as his tongue slipped between the seam of her lips. Imani released a soft moan the moment their tongues touched making Josh’s grip on her ponytail tighten as he groaned lowly. 

The sound of his groan snapped Imani back to reality and she pulled away quickly, remembering what she was doing and who she was doing it with. She quickly stood up to distance herself from Josh, not trusting herself to be close to him. 

“Josh-“

“Damn that was better than I imagined,” Josh interjected.

Imani’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?” 

Josh stood as well, adjusting his basketball shorts. Imani quickly diverted her gaze from him choosing to stare at her pale pink painted toenails instead. 

“You tellin me you really don’t know?” Josh asked. Imani shook her head as she continued to avoid his eyes. He stepped towards her and placed his index finger underneath her chin, lifting her head. The fire in his stare made her pulse quicken as she felt stuck in place, her eyes watching as he slowly licked his lips.

“Imani I like you.”  

Confusion washed over Imani’s face. “What?”

“I like you,” Josh repeated. 

“You do?” 

“Yeah For a minute now actually.  Like why do you think every time I see you around I always go out of my way to speak to you? Or the amount of times I comment on your posts and slide into your DMs on Instagram?”

“I just thought you were being friendly. I didn’t think nothing of it.” Imani shrugged. 

Josh chuckled. “Shit I spent the past two weeks pleading with Krys to let me come to dinner tonight. Even had to get Uce to plead my case and shit with her too.” 

“Wait, Krys knows?” Imani asked, her light brown eyes widening more. 

“Hell yeah Krys knows. Sefa knows. Jon knows. Joe knows. Trinity knows. I guess everybody knows but you.” 

Silence fell over the two as Imani tried to figure out how everybody else knew about how Josh felt about her but her.  Memories of the brief conversations they shared whenever they crossed paths or managed to end up sitting next to each other when Krystle and Sefa had a gathering at their house flooded her brain. Josh was always nice to her, always greeting her when he saw her and asking her how things were going. But he never made a move to indicate he was interested in her. 

And sure he slid into her DMs on a couple occasions with an emoji response to one of her stories or some corny joke that made her chuckle. But she never thought much of that either because she was positive a man that was as fine as him slid into plenty of DMs. She simply thought it was Josh being Josh. 

Clearly it was much more than that.

Imani crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at the man in front of her. “So if everyone knew why didn’t you tell me?” 

Josh nervously chuckled as he released the hold he had on Imani’s chin. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit I ain’t think I had a chance.” 

“Why not?” 

Josh stepped away from her as he started pacing. “You seem like the type of woman that wants a man that’s the CEO of some big time corporation or some shit like that. Has multiple degrees. Drives a luxury SUV that’s big enough to drive the kids y’all will eventually have to school and after school activities. Knows which forks to use when he takes you to a fancy restaurant.  A man that would know all the right things to say instead of getting nervous every time y’all speak.” Josh stuffed his hands inside the pockets of his shorts and shrugged as he continued to pace. “So basically the opposite of me.”

Imani’s expression softened as her brain registered Josh’s words. On screen Jey Uso was an overly confident, charismatic, energetic superstar. But Josh was showing her a side of him that she hadn’t seen before. Sure he still had that same swagger and charm as his television persona. But in this moment of vulnerability he was giving her a glimpse of his timid and uncertain side, features that reminded her of how she behaved around him. Before her brain could protest Imani reached out and grabbed his forearm which stopped his movements.

“Josh-“

Josh shook his head and held up his hand, an uneasy smile spreading across his face. “You know what just forget I said anything Mani. I’m sorry for gettin weird and kissin you.” He turned to walk away.

“I like you too!” Imani blurted, her hand immediately covering her mouth.

Josh’s head whipped around towards Imani, curiously eyeing her. “Huh?” 

Imani chuckled nervously as she silently berated herself for the word vomit ungraciously spilling out of her mouth. She bounced her weight from one leg to the other and exhaled. 

“I like you. Hell I’ve liked you for a while too,” Imani admitted. 

A relieved grin spread across Josh’s lips as he also crossed his arms, mimicking her earlier stance. “So why you ain’t say something?” 

“We might actually have more in common than you think because I also didn’t think I had a chance. Never thought I was your type.” 

“My type?” Josh asked. “Whatchu mean by that?” 

“Let’s be for real. You’re a WWE superstar. You can choose any woman you want in any city you visit. If I were to put money on it I would guarantee you would go for the Instagram baddie with the fat ass wearing the best designer clothes the world has to offer instead of a plain jane with a small ass who shops at Old Navy.” 

Josh shook his head. “Ay stop that shit. There’s nothin plain jane about you. You’re beautiful and you look fine as hell in anything you wear.” 

Imani pursed her lips together to stop the goofy smile from appearing on her face. “I’m just saying I know I’m not the kind of woman that makes men go wild with desire. And I’m not like Krys - bubbly and full of personality who can easily talk to anybody she meets. I’m mild mannered and reserved. I just prefer to keep a low profile and most of the time that means men overlook me.” 

“I don’t overlook you,” Josh countered. “Hell every time you walk into a room I can’t keep my eyes off of you.” 

“Really?” Surprise dripped from Imani’s voice. 

“Yeah really. You have this vibe that just oozes confidence you know. You have this understated beauty where you don’t need flashy clothes to stand out you just do so naturally. Yeah you keep a low profile but I like that the most about you. You don’t have to be loud to get noticed you just happy stayin in the background and chillin. I think you only share your energy with people that you think are worthy enough to experience it. And I wanna be one of those people.” 

Josh stepped closer to Imani, the heat from his body engulfing her own and making her lightheaded. Like earlier his gaze remained steady on her but this time she didn’t look away.  She felt her breath hitch in her throat as his brown orbs stared deep into her eyes, her soul feeling exposed. 

“I wish you could see yo’self the way that I see you.” 

Before Imani could respond Josh’s lips descended upon hers in another searing kiss. She pushed every thought out of her mind that screamed at her to pull away as her hands ran through his hair, her nails lightly scratching his scalp. Her mouth swallowed his deep groan as his muscular arms wrapped around her waist pulling her body flush against his. Imani whimpered softly as she felt his hardened dick pressing into her thigh, his large hands roughly grabbing her ass. 

Josh quickly moved his mouth to the base of Imani’s neck his lips sucking on the space that connected her neck to her collarbone making her hiss softly.

“Talkin’ about you ain’t got no ass. What’s all this back here huh?” He asked with a grunt, squeezing harder to accentuate his question.

“Mmmm Josh,” Imani gasped as she tilted her head back to give him more room to mark. Her eyes fluttered closed, pleasure coursing through her body.

“Keep sayin my name like that I ain’t gonna be able to stop,” Josh warned. 

“Who says I want you to?”

Josh pulled away from Imani holding her at arms length. “Imani look at me,” he commanded. The moment her eyes cracked open and locked with his he sucked in a sharp breath. Desire and lust sparkled in her eyes as her chest heaved up and down with every breath she took. “You sure? Cuz I ain’t tryna make you do anything you ain’t ready for.”

Imani tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth as she silently pondered Josh’s question. She couldn’t comprehend how she ended up in this position with the man she had been crushing on but here she was. Typical Imani would choose this moment to completely halt the brakes and run away. Or pull out a pen and paper to jot down the pros and cons for having sex with Josh. But for the first time in a long time she didn’t give a fuck about the consequences. She just wanted to shut her brain off and finally allow herself to do what felt right. 

Imani wordlessly stepped closer to Josh and wrapped her arm around his neck. She started to press soft kisses to his throat, the coolness of his chain a sharp contrast  against his burning skin. Her lips moved up and across his jawline his beard prickling her chin. She smirked against his neck as he sucked in a ragged breath while his dick continued to come alive in his shorts. His hand squeezed Imani’s ass again before slapping it causing her to whimper softly. Imani reached for the waistband of his shorts and started to push them down his legs.  

Josh placed his larger free hand over Imani’s. Her eyes snapped up to his, confused. Josh shook his head.

“Nah. Tonight is all bout you birthday girl.”

Before Imani could protest, Josh grabbed the hem of the t-shirt she wore and haphazardly yanked it over her head revealing her black lace bra. He groaned loudly at the sight of her breasts threatening to spill out of the fabric. He grabbed her covered breasts and squeezed them roughly forcing her to groan before he quickly moved to unsnap the clasp in the back. Once her breasts were freed Josh pushed Imani down on the couch and climbed on top of her and buried his head in between her cleavage.  He peppered kisses on her skin, his tongue creating a trail of saliva from the middle of her chest towards her breast. The second his mouth engulfed her nipple, Imani moaned loudly, her arms wrapping around his neck to hold him in place.

“Fuuuccckkk Josh,” Imani whimpered. Her heartbeat rumbled in her ears as he continued to suck and lightly bite her nipples before moving to her other breast to repeat the actions. She should’ve felt embarrassed by how easily undone she was becoming simply from him sucking her breasts but her drought made her body extremely sensitive to his touch.  “Oh fuck don’t stop.” 

Despite her plea, Josh raised his head a devious glint in his eye. His fingers hooked inside the waistband of her leggings and he started to pull them down. 

“Trust me I could suck on yo big ass titties for hours. But there’s something else I wanna do to you. You ok with that bae?”

Anticipation bubbled in Imani’s stomach as her body moved on autopilot. She lifted her hips so he could remove the intrusive garment completely from her body. She bit her bottom lip shyly as Josh’s eyes roamed over her completely naked body.

“I knew yo ass ain’t have on no panties when I saw you walk down those steps,” Josh mumbled shaking his head with a chuckle. He glanced up at Imani, hunger sparkling in his brown eyes. “Tell me what you want Mani.” 

Deciding now was not the time to be bashful, Imani silently thanked Krystle for the many times she dragged her to an early morning yoga class before they started work. Imani wordlessly raised her legs and reached between them, grabbing her ankles and contorting her body to reveal her dripping pussy to Josh. 

“Eat my pussy bae.”

Josh’s eyes widened at the sight of Imani’s fully exposed pussy in front of him. The sight of her juices dripping between her folds made his chocolate brown eyes darken with passion as he carefully lowered himself to his knees in front of her.  His hands softly caressed her thighs before he hooked his arms under them pulling her closer to the edge of the couch. Imani watched with bated breath as he wrapped her legs around his neck, wedging his face in between her limbs. He kissed her thighs softly, slowly moving towards her core. He smirked against her skin as she impatiently thrusted her hips towards him silently begging for him to stop teasing her. Josh looked up at Imani, admiring her half lidded eyes glazed over with lust, her full lips partially open to suck in oxygen.

“Relax baby. I got you,” Josh said with a wink.

Imani’s drawn out moan filled the room as Josh’s long tongue snaked out of his mouth and licked the juices between her lips before dragging upward and landing on her clit.

“Oh fuck!” Imani cried out. Her hips thrust upward at the feeling of Josh’s tongue on her pussy as she clenched her eyes closed. His strong arms forced her hips back down as he completely buried his face between her legs, his mouth enclosing around her clit and sucking on it. Sweat gathered on Imani’s chest as Josh began to devour her pussy. It was everything she had dreamed it to be. His mouth was sinful but heavenly at the same time. His movements were erratic but methodical.  It was as if somebody had gave him a road map to her pussy that he studied to create the perfect course of action to make her lose her fuckin mind. 

“Damn this pussy sweeter than I thought it would be,” Josh mumbled after he released Imani’s clit from his mouth. He pulled her labia into his mouth and sucked on it making Imani’s moans increase in volume. He released her lip with a loud and appalling plopping noise before directing his attention to her other lip repeating the actions, softly nibbling on the flesh. 

 Imani’s breathing grew shallow as Josh’s tongue swirled around in her juices that continuously descended in a rainfall motion before he slipped it inside her quivering hole. The calloused fingertip of his index finger found her clit and started to rub it in a circular motion, the pressure from the pad of his finger just right. 

“Ah fuck fuck fuck,” Imani chanted as Josh removed his tongue from inside her. He quickly replaced it with the index and middle finger of his free hand, the two digits moving in a scissoring motion. Her walls gripped his fingers tightly and he started to thrust them back and forth.  

“Yeah go ahead and fuck Daddy fingers just like that,” Josh encouraged with a smirk. He felt his dick throbbing in his shorts as he watched her body beginning to stiffen with tension, his keen sense telling him Imani was close to shattering. “Can’t wait to get up in this fuckin pussy Mani. Fuck the shit out yo sexy ass. How that sound bae?”  

Imani nodded her head mindlessly before Josh dived back between her legs his tongue attacking her pussy with sucks and licks. Her upper torso rose from the couch as she felt a tingling sensation in her legs. Her ass cheeks clenched together as her hips started to raise uncontrollably.  “Ah shit Josh I-I-”

“You about to cum baby? Don’t hold back. Go ahead and cum right on Daddy face.” 

“Fuck Josh!” Imani cried out as her orgasm rammed into her at lighting speed. Her toes curled forward as juices drizzled from her pussy into Josh’s awaiting mouth. Imani’s body flailed around on the couch as she tried to pull away from Josh as he continued to suck on her clit extending her orgasm. But he was too powerful and her resistance was in vain as he kept her right where he wanted her, forcing her to endure the pleasure that was racking her body.  She continued to mewl his name as her orgasm started to subside, her body unfurling and heart rate slowly decreasing. 

“Open your eyes baby.” 

Imani slowly cracked open her light brown eyes locking onto Josh’s glistening orbs. His lips coated in Imani’s essence spread into a sexy smile and if she wasn’t so worn out she would’ve had another orgasm just staring at him. 

“You so sexy when you scream my name.” 

Imani rolled her eyes playfully as she flipped Josh off with a giggle. He unwrapped her legs from his neck and placed her feet on the floor. With as much strength as she could muster, Imani sat up and gently grabbed Josh by his chain and pulled him to her. She captured his lips in a kiss.  Josh groaned as he thrust his tongue inside Imani’s mouth allowing her to taste herself before he wrapped his hand around her ponytail and tugged. 

“Now if you two are finally done down there can yall keep it down? Some of us gotta be up early tomorrow you know!” Krystle yelled from upstairs. 

Imani and Josh jerked away from one another, their eyes widened in shock. They shared another look before they broke out into laughter as their cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Josh grabbed the t-shirt Imani wore earlier and handed it to her. Once she pulled it over her head, he pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they started walking towards the stairs.

Josh placed a kiss on her temple.  “Don’t worry about they ass bae. Consider it payback for them keeping you up earlier,” he said causing Imani to laugh as they made their way to the guest room. 

&

Tag List: @krysxtotheo @lisayourworries @amandairene88 @whatdoeseverybodywant @vebner37 @sayyestoheav3nn

[aspionagee]

First off-- I'm a HUGE fan of your writing, you have no idea how stoked I am for the next installment of A Patchwork Family. I was never a fan of severitus before I came across your fic by chance but your writing is so good it turned me onto it.

I was wondering if you had any severitus fic recs? I saw you post something about crime and punishment and gave that one a read (SO good), and since it seems you have incredible taste to go along with your incredible writing skills I was hoping you could help me out 💚

Thank you very much for the question! I actually have a ton of fic recs for Severitus, and I've been meaning to make a list for a while, so in no particular order here it is!

1. A Year Like None Other by aspeninthesunlight

This fic is also very special to me, and directly inspired A Patchwork Family. Snape ends up adopting Harry and Draco during their sixth year. It was written before the sixth and seventh books even came out, so there's a very fascinating plot!

2. To Trust by Clairdeloon

This one has a runaway Harry being sent to live with Snape after the Dursleys die before his first year. If you like angst this is the one to go for; it hurts so much but it's so worth it.

3. Time Left Today by gzdacs

After the situation with Quirrell, Harry is wanted by the Ministry for questioning. Snape is forced to transport him across Europe to hide him (with things progressively going more and more wrong!). Very enjoyable fic

4. Tension's Empathy: The Wanderers Curse by yarrowmirth

Another "Harry and Snape on the run" one, set after fifth year. I particularly enjoy how long it takes Snape and Harry to warm up to each other! It's also criminally underrated. I check so often for updates you have no idea

5. Grease & Lightning by Mothboss

Would highly recommend this and its sequel, Acid Reigns. Features Snape semi-accidentally acquiring eight-year-old Harry(with some of the best, age-accurate writing of a child I've ever seen). He takes on a protective big brother role and it's so perfect! Acid Reigns also uploads every Tuesday without fail, which I always look forward to

6. obscured by illisius

A recent fic discovery for me, where Obscurial Harry is sorted into Slytherin and Snape has to help him. I am rarely in this much pain when reading a fic, oh my god. The ANGST. It's just so perfect, and I'm so excited to see what's coming next for the universe!

7. The Potions Master and his Golden Boy by HazelEyes25

If you like your Severitus slowburn, this is the one. During Harry's second year, Snape slowly goes from Harry's mentor figure to guardian. It's full of lots of nice hurt/comfort!

8. aim & ignite by shostakobitch

The only biological father Severitus on this list, and HEAR ME OUT! Because if Snape turned out to be Harry's biological parent, this is EXACTLY how it would have gone down. Snape is perfectly canon; he is the horrible, snarky and cruel man from book canon even as he learns how to be a caring man to his child. Such a hard balance to strike, but it is done PERFECTLY. It also features Girl!Harry which I very rarely see in Severitus. With the beautiful prose thrown in on top, all I can do is beg you all to give this a go! So worth a read!!

9. O Mine Enemy by KirbyLane

This is a classic! I've not read it in a while and it's next on my reread list. Again, very good characterisation. Both Harry and Severus feel very human. Takes place during fifth year, and switches up canon a bit which I always like!

10. Crime and Punishment by Melolcatsi

Just in case anyone else didn't see the Crime and Punishment rec, I want to still put it here. This is one of the first Severitus fics I ever read, and it's so very special to me! Harry gets sent to live with Snape in the summer after fourth year when he is falsely accused of stealing. Snape's characterisation in particular is stunning

I could keep rambling on for hours, but this is essentially my top ten! I hope you all enjoy!

[cmdrfupa]

Chihiro

2nd installment of Upheaval.

cw: all chapters and content warnings are listed in this post but this chapter contains smut near the end. Grandma's first nastee writing in a decade heh.

an: firstly, thank you for being so nice to me 😭 I expect nothing but you all seem to find a way to make me feel like I’m good at this and I appreciate it more than you know. I tried not to make this a yep fest and therefore at least 2 more chapters will happen so yay!

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! ✨✨

August 6, 2021

  No longer being led by liquid courage, but by the sheer need to be your doting husband once again, Kento took initiative and scheduled the next counseling session. On appointment day, he picked you up early, ensuring he had an hour to calm his nerves and spirit during the drive.

The idea of reconciling felt surreal once he learned how close you were to being done with this marriage. 

"She has the papers drawn up and waiting to have you served. So figure out how to stop her from giving them to you, Nanamin! Simple." His voice of reason was the sound of Gojo telling him that you had already drawn up divorce papers. 

From what he was told, you were asking for very little if you both let it go through. Willing to leave him the home you bought together only wanting to keep the Nanami name and split all investments you'd made while married. Fair even when your heart was being broken into pieces. Perhaps he didn't deserve you. 

So step one was easy: Stop you from handing those papers to him. And that started here.

Ootaishi Niko: Would be special grade sorcerer and revered therapist across the southern prefectures. 

Currently not one of Kentos' favorite people.

  "I'm glad the first two sessions didn't scare you off. Make yourself comfortable." Kento sat in the middle of the couch, his thigh lightly grazing yours as he crossed his legs. He noticed you sat close to him, and he didn't move. 

Heavy air filled the room as the sound of the central unit whirred to life, gusting a light chill through the air.

Uneasy anticipation sat in the wings of the brightly lit space. 

The chenille-upholstered couch tugged at Kento as he sat back, placing the pillow between you both.

"We apologize for ghosting. After the two sessions, we didn't know—"

"If it was worth returning once they moved out of our shared home," Kento cut in before you could finish. 

He noticed your leg bouncing; he fixated on the box of tissues in front of him. "I apologize. That was unnecessary." 

"It's fine."  

Ootaishi noticed the small interaction but said nothing. Instead, she lowered the window covering that faced the couch and sat across from you in a single chair. 

"I am, as you know, dedicated to healing relationships, revealing the truth, and finding solutions. By entering my office, you consented to my domain. You could try to bypass my expansion, but it would do you more harm in the end."

She sat a small talisman on the table. The etchings glowed similarly to the Heian-era sigils you'd seen in your studies.

"With that said, you can leave anytime, as this is a barrierless realm. If you exit without acknowledging it, it will cause 24 hours of what I call Toxic Empathy. Are we clear?"

"Yes," you both uttered in unison, consenting before sitting back on the couch. 

"Splendid! Now, please close your eyes so we can begin."

Kento followed your lead, closing his eyes once he saw you settle. You took shallow breaths to center yourself.

In a low tone, Ooitaishi spoke, "Memory Alpha."

There was a noticeable shift in the room. Temperature dropped by at least 15 degrees as a chill swept on the nape of his neck. Mumbles of small talk surrounded him as the familiar scent of overly artificial strawberry and bramble room deodorizer filled his nostrils with an unpleasant sting.

Nearby speaker hummed a song that felt like a distant memory: ‘Daremo Shiranai’ by Arashi.

"Gojo's?" Kento's eyes opened, and there it was: Gojo's apartment. Ambient lighting lined the spacious loft walls that were never really lived in but used occasionally for events like birthdays, meetings after official meetings, and that night's game festivities.

Kento looked around the room, fully accepting that the office had been transformed into some type of memory bank. His memory bank.

"So, Kento. It seems you're first up. Do you mind telling me why we're here?" Ootaishi smiled, sipping the cold lager beer that appeared on the side table next to her.

"Ken." You knew exactly where you were.

Clearing his throat, Kento perched himself on the edge of the couch as he saw his younger variant walk through the front door. "The night Shoko introduced us. When we first met."

November 15, 2014

"Nanamin!" Gojo leaped with a smile, waving him down from the crowded corner of people playing Jenga.

Waving back in hopes of not being bothered no more Kento considered himself saved as Shoko walked over. "Avoid eye contact. He's been drinking milk tea all day and won't shut up about beating you in Yahtzee. We've got more important things to do anyway." She brought her hand to Nanamis's shoulder, chauffeuring him to where you sat near the open balcony doors.

There you were, leg shaking as you looked out the nearby window before noticing the approaching duo. "She's like me. But probably with a little more patience. The perfect match, really." He was working with nothing other than you had the patience of a saint and apparently were able to get Shoko to stop smoking.

And while he wasn't a superficial nor religious man, he thanked every God above and below that you were also beautiful.

Your cashmere sweater fit you perfectly as you stood up to greet him.

"I'm back, and here's the friend I mentioned. This is Nanami." Shoko gave a look of approval as she gave Kento a slight nudge.

"Hey! It's a pleasure." He took your outstretched hand and firmly shook it.

"Nanami Kento. It's great to meet you. Shoko has told me nothing about you."

Your warm laugh sent a surge of serotonin through his chest.

"Seems she's great at keeping her lips shut." You sat back down, offering the chair next to you. "But it does give us plenty to talk about and get acquainted better."

Nanami slid his coat off, smiling as he hung it on the back of the chair and sat beside you.

"Of course. Like how that sweater you're wearing is lovely. Cashmere?"

"Yeah! I bought it while I was out in Scotland over the summer. Thank you. Big fan of fashion?" You questioned while grabbing the beer bottle from the table.

He grabbed the drink Shoko had set down for him while she observed you interacting as if it were a chaperoned date. "Not necessarily. I just prefer to buy for long-term use."

"Same! I'd rather spend the large amount on quality that'll last years than something I'll need to replace by the end of the season." A sip from the apple-flavored IPA soothed your throat before you continued. "Like, it's money, and I hate to be an incessant contributor to capitalism, so I want to at least be wise about where my money goes, yanno? Less consuming, more investing in things that can be seen as sustainable. Even if it's clothing, I suppose."

Sensible, financially aware, hates capitalism, knew to buy a cashmere sweater in Scotland.

'Let's hold off on the pedestal.' Kento internally tried his best to ignore the immediate fluttering of his heart as you spoke. 'Perfect match.'

Four hours. Kento sat in that uncomfortable chair talking with you about everything he could for four hours, from learning about your love of music theory and literature to your time in med school with Shoko. He told you about his passion for research, travel, advocacy, and the arts. Your shared love of cooking somehow brought you to discussing family lineage.

"So a distant relative to the woman who was the unfortunate victim of Noritoshi Kamo. That dates back to the-"

"Meiji period. It's an incredibly long story, but my father tried to keep up with that part of my family history for a long time."

"Do you keep in touch with the Kamo clan?"

Shaking your head confidently, you responded, "They try to reach out to me, but I'd rather not be associated for the time being. Bit of a weird conversation to have."

Kento noticed your slight disconnect from this part of the conversation, watching your eyes migrate to fixating on your bottle once you mentioned their recent attempt. Choosing not to pursue it any further, he instead focused on your features as the low lighting seemed to glow around you.

Kento felt a hint of glee for the first time in a long time. He realized you'd noticed him taking you in, and the corners of your mouth lifted.

"Shoko tells me you'll be joining us at Jujutsu High. She said you left the sorcery world but came back! You excited?"

"You'll also be there?" Kento lifted his brow, not realizing you'd actually be around him more than he expected.

"Oh, yes! It isn't a significant role, though. I'm a consultant and teaching some history courses. And will do field work when needed."

"History?"

"Cursed energy and ancient techniques. Pushed hard for it to be a class for all 2nd years." Were you really telling him that you had a history course on curses?

"I'll have to sit in on one of your classes then. Sounds like I could learn a lot from you."

The sound of Gojo imitating another party guest echoed across the room, making you cringe with a laugh as Kento shook his head with a plastered smile. "I have to admit, I was a little hesitant on this whole blind date idea."

"Dating can be challenging as it is." Taking the last swig of your ale before idly playing with the bottle's rim, you continued, "Adding the shroud of mystery can make it almost unbearable. But Shoko did mention that you were my perfect match."

"Perfect match?"

"Don't tell me she was wrong, Nanami Kento." Dripping with flirtation, the tone in which you said his name turned his ears red-hot.

When he leaned into you, Kento smiled at your poor attempt to hide your sudden, bashful reaction. "I guess we'll only find out if I take you on a proper date on Sunday, perhaps?"

"Only if you promise to wear this tie again. I like how the pattern complements the chestnut flecks in your gorgeous eyes."

Marble. A marble pedestal. Engraved with your name across the front. One of the world's many wonders that now prominently sits in the forefront of Kento's mind for however long you allow.

"I'll let you dress me. How does that sound?"

July 3, 2015

"Surprise!" You cheesed until your cheeks ached as you stood in Kento's dim living room. The sparkler candles sitting atop the chocolate croissant bread pudding you held acted as the secondary light source after the dimmed ceiling light as he walked toward you. "Happy birthday, Ken!"

Chuckling, Kento sat his briefcase on the couch, bewildered by your ambush. "Dove, what is this?"

"Oh!" Handing off the dish to Kento, you put a party blower to your mouth and blew into it with all your might. "A surprise!"

Kento savored a fleeting moment to take in the sight of his living room. Adorned with its usual neutral-toned furniture, it had been transformed by the addition of a striking balloon bouquet nestled in a corner. Glittery confetti scattered across the floor and coffee table, catching the radiant hues of the late sunset, while elegant streamers crisscrossed the ceiling, adding an extra layer of festivity. Coming back to you, his softened gaze met yours.

"As is tradition back at home, you now have to suffer through my rendition of 'Feliz En Tu Día.' Clearing your throat as you placed a party hat on Kento, you began to belt.

What was happening? Why was his pulse quickening as he watched you sing a song with everything in you? Why did he feel his body warm up from how you smiled waiting for him to make a wish for today and everyday after?

His wish was you. You today and everyday after.

Kento felt his heart pounding from how sweet you were to him. Effort that felt so genuine and done out of love, he was beginning to think he might have a stroke. "I—thank you." He blew out the candles with a quaint smile and set the bread pudding down before kissing you deeply. "You really did this for me when you didn't have to. I have a birthday every year."

"Listen, you only turn 25 once; you deserve to be celebrated on every birthday." You laid a warm kiss on his cheek and held him close. "I know Shoko's party on Saturday may not be your scene, so I wanted to do something intimate and special just for us."

Kento went in for another kiss, gentler this time. Your heated flesh invites the palms of his hands as they slide under your shirt, finding the soft flanks of your waist. It was the most courageous he'd felt as the fluttery feeling hit his chest. "I love you."

Seven months and two weeks ago. 230 days. Kento knew he’d fall in love with you the same night he met you when you decided that waiting until Sunday was too long to see him again. When he took you to his favorite izakaya and introduced you to the owners, who kept giving him the all-knowing "That's the one" look all night.

You sat close in his usual booth, telling him everything else that wasn't shared at the party. The same booth where you couldn't help but notice the overwhelming grief in his posture as he confided his reasons for why he had left the sorcery world once before. In those suffocating moments, you became his solace, reminding him to just breathe. You became his reason to stay, his undying love.

"You love me?"

"I love you."

Your pupils dilated while your stomach filled with butterflies. "I love you, Kento."

When you returned his feelings itf felt like he was experiencing everything for the first time. He felt more alive than ever. Every interaction led to the heart-thumping experience of your love. The sheer intensity of each emotion made it a time of joy and anxiety as the fear of losing this feeling became just as strong as the love itself.

Kento's actions from this point forward were to be charged with meaning. His heart, which had been in darkness for years, was now in your hands.

"Memory Alpha 2.33."

The distant memory of the dim living room shut into itself as Kento reawakened in the office. He immediately looked over to you, your eyes still closed, but tears stricken down your cheeks as if you'd been crying.

"Dove, you okay?" Anxiety coated his tone as you appeared to still be under the effects of the domain.

"She will come to in a moment, Nanami. I want to take this time to talk to just you."

Kento wasn't sure how therapy was supposed to go, but this seemed far from the usual protocol. He glanced back over at you.

"I promise you, she's safe," Ootaishi assured Kento, sharing a quick glance at your current state of mind to calm his anxieties. You were sitting beachside at sunset, engrossed in yet another article on creating the perfect greenhouse all year round. A beach chair was set beside yours, and his worn copy of "Antic Hay" awaited him.

A wistful smile graced his face. "Thank you."

"You care very deeply for her."

Kento kept his eyes on you for a moment longer, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your mouth seemed to twitch into a smile. "She's my life."

"And so you choose to push your life away."

Kento's neck joints cracked as he turned back to face the therapist. "Excuse me?"

Ootaishi wrote something in her journal as Kento mentally torched a hole through her chest. "Your wife. You call her your life, yet we are here because your life is tired of being pushed away."

There goes his ring, feeling too small again.

"I'm not pushing her away."

"Then my apologies for assuming. What would you call what you're doing, Nanami?"

"I feel like we've reached a standstill in our marriage," he said, twisting the wedding band around his finger. The pinching sensation distracted from the undeniable truth of his feelings. “We've grown but in different directions. It's impacting our daily lives."

Ootaishi glanced at the talisman, the etchings now glowing a dull red. "It seems someone forgot about our honesty policy, Nanami."

A huff strong enough to blow off a roof exited Kentos' nose before dragging his hands down his face.

"It's clear that you are not ready to get to the real root of your problem, and that's okay. Healing is never linear, nor is it quick." Ootaishi took a few more notes and smiled before closing the journal. "But just for future reference, I prefer the method of you being honest with me, as I hate forcing myself into your psyche for the answer I need to resolve issues.”

Kento's jaw clenched as he sat up fully. There was a small, dare he say minuscule part of him that wished he could've just fessed up to why he was being a pussy. The chance was there; if nothing else, he appreciated how forward Ootaishi was to get him there.

But he wasn't ready to face the demons he knew needed to be slain before it was too late.

"Can you not mention this to her? It's not that I'm trying to keep anything from her—"

"You have my word, Nanami." She sat on the edge of her chair and looked over at you. "If you're ready, I can wake them up."

With a nod, Ootaishi intonated, 'Memory Alpha; end sequence,' and Kento watched closely as you slowly roused yourself.

"Welcome back." Ootaishi opened the curtains halfway and gave a warm, almost motherly smile as she looked at Kento and then at you. "Take some time to get adjusted to the room, and then we will end today's session."

"Thank you again for being so open to going back."

"I'm glad we did. It was better than I thought it would be. It was far more invasive than I realized." He crinkled his nose as he recalled the all-too-intrusive experience.

You both shared a chuckle as Kento walked you to the door.

"Yeah, it's a bit intense. But I've only heard of great results from Ootaishi, so I'll allow the invasion."

There was a lighter air between you as you neared the threshold.

"Did you want to come in for lunch? I've been marinating some eggplant in red curry. There's more than enough."

"Is that a good idea? I should give you some time to sort through today's session."

Eyes fluttered quickly as you were taken aback by the sudden compliance from Kento. "Is Nanami Kento actually taking the therapist's suggestions seriously?" It was apparent how impressed you were.

With a light chuckle, Kento shrugged as he looked at you. "I just want to show you how serious I am about everything. You deserve time to process today just like I do. But we can grab lunch soon."

"Lunch. Just tell me when."

"Absolutely."

The two of you stood together in the luminous hallway, the air heavy with unspoken words. The silence that enveloped you was strangely comforting. The faint sound of footsteps approaching the elevator shattered the peacefulness, jolting you both back to the present moment.

"I should get going, but let me know how the eggplant turns out. Tell both Shoko and Utahime I said hello."

"Will do. Let me know when you've made it home safely."

His hesitancy showed in the two steps he took towards you. Opting out of embracing you and instead kissing the top of your head and inhaling your scent.

"See you later, dove.”

“See you Monday, Ken.”

As the sun slips below the horizon, the golden light of the setting sun fades, leaving only the pale moonlight to illuminate the evening. In the silence of the late evening, Nanami sat in his den, deep in thought, attention focused on the quiet contemplation's of his mind. You.

The sound of his breathing was the only sound in the room, punctuated by the occasional rustling of pages as he fidgeted with the corners of his book.

The soft beams of moonlight cast shadows on the floor, the trees standing guard like looming sentinels against the glossy wood.

“I don’t even know what the fuck I’m reading.” A deep, dispirited sigh left his lips as he read the same sentence for the eighth time. Mentally worn, Kento sat the book on the table and fell back in his chair, slouching as he closed his eyes to gather a bit of energy to get to bed.

“Come to bed, Ken. Your pillow is a real shit replacement for your chest.”

Hearing your voice in his head, he smiled as if you were in the room with him. Your low, sweet-as-saccharin voice filled his mind as he replayed your sweet sentiments to himself like he did every other night since splitting. Toying with the waistband until he was tired of trying to play coy with himself, he rubbed his growing erection through his pajamas.

“God.” His lips parted, sucking in a small breath as he thought of your scent. Your hand on his chest as he inhaled you that afternoon.

He freed his thick member, looking at a drip of precum before smearing it with his thumb.

“Tell me how you want me, Kento.”

His left hand gently massaged his balls while squeezing the head of his cock as your voice led him to stroke himself.

Slow strokes to copy how you pleasure him had his eyes rolling back as he envisioned your lips pressed against his neck. Your warm breath sending electricity down his spine, your slick cunt resting on his aching balls as you stroked him from above. “Faster. Please.”

His steady rhythm quickened, a long tug before he slid his hand up and down his length faster, the wet sounds of his slick shaft competing with the lewd moans that fell from his parted lips. You. The way you whimpered his name when his thumb rubbed over your clit. Your eyes full of hunger when he would only let the tip of his thick cock poke and prod at your eager, fluttering cunt. “Is this what you want, dove?” fucking every inch into his hand with brute force as if were your wetness.

“Not yet… fuck.” Kento slowed down, lightly tugging his taut balls from his form to stop himself from releasing.

Painstakingly slow, he watched his reddened cock head swell as his grasp tightened, sliding up and down his shaft again. He watched the way the veins in his right hand were accentuated with each squeeze of his cock. Recalling how his hands looked cradling your face as your nose met his pubic hair, taking every inch of him to send him into a crying mess.

Hair stuck to his forehead as his chest heaved, pumping quicker to satiate the flame that kept growing in his abs. Losing himself in the fierce desire for you. “Please let me cum, please. Please, dove.” Hips bucking at an unearthly pace with pathetic pants of desperation echoing as he felt his release hit its peak before he pulled his hands away.

He knows he won’t finish. He can’t finish. He watched his cock bounce and flinch freely while the sweat on his brow cooled him. A huff of frustration brought him back fully as he tucked himself back into his pants, trekking to the bedroom in silence.

You’d trained him to need you for that release. A cruel feat that he couldn’t even call a punishment because it was a self-inflicted disservice.

Settled into bed for the night, Kento checked his phone one more time. His lock screen lit up with the only photo Kento allowed to be taken right after his hospital stay post Shibuya. Your lips on his cheek as he gave the camera a shy smile, Gojo’s white hair peaking in from the bottom corner after a failed crop attempt.

Four months and a week: 128 days separated.

One day towards fixing what can be saved.

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

hi mo! i want to wish you a HUGE congrats on your milestone (: you deserve every single follow and like and reblog! your writing is so, so good and it brings me sm comfort if youre still taking requests, can i pls request alfie + “how long has it been since someone hugged you?”

Oh Noni this was so sweet! You are so so kind. It brings me immense joy that my writing brings you comfort. That is the greatest compliment I could ever receive. I’m sending all my love to you darling, I hope you enjoy this.

Guys this is the last request from our 100 Follower Celebration!!! This was so fun and I am so in love with the community we have built here together!!! I’m currently working on our final installment of Interviews for New Beginnings!!! Anyway I love y’all so much, have an amazing day my loves!! - Mo

100 Follower Celebration: Always

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing

“Mr. Solomons. I know you don’t want to hear this… or anything I’ve said the past 10 years I’ve been your physician… but you really need to watch your stress levels sir. It may very well kill you one day.”

Dr. Young had been treating Alfie Solomons exclusively for 10 years. Every stab wound, bullet hole, and influenza season had been watched over diligently by the good doctor. But every month his largest concern was Alfie Solomons’ blood pressure and tension headaches. Unfortunately for Dr. Young… Alfie Solomons was the worst patient he ever had.

Alfie ripped the stethoscope off his burly chest and threw it back at his doctor, “Bah fuck off. Respectfully of course. I’m fine. I’m going to live longer than you mark my words. Stress is good for the body.”

Dr. Young shrugged, there was no use fighting with Alfie. Usually Alfie would see reason and silently beckon and repent right before death came knocking, “If you believe Mr. Solomons. Anyway I want you to keep counting your pulse and recording it. Not that you’ll do it I wager. But I’ll be back same time next week.”

“Yeah, right. See Ollie gives you your fee. And double check with my secretary that your window is still open.”

Dr. Young smiles, “I’ll be sure to let her know that I gave you a task so that she keeps you accountable as well.”

As he walked out, leaning heavily on his wooden cane to offset his heavy medical bag, Alfie hollered after him, “You will do no such thing damn you! Ask her the schedule and nothing else!”

Alfie hears the slight chuckle of his ancient physician behind the closed door. Alfie finally lets out the sigh of relief he had been holding tightly all morning. His head falls into his calloused hands. The slow and rhythmic push and rush of his palms against his eyes and temple soothe the panging and banging in his head. An ache that has been ever present for the past few days. One that hasn’t been aided at all by the lack of water in his day to day.

The past few days have been Alfie’s own personal hell. The Americans’ prohibition on spirits has added another layer of problems to the business. New men had been hired and were not all bright, causing more mistakes than their bodies were worth. Cops were getting greedy, and were needing more to smooth their hands and seal their lips. Usually, a boss would have been able to hand off problems to lower levels. Not Alfie. Never Alfie. Alfie doesn’t get to give jobs to anyone else. No one wants to help Alfie. Alfie is to solve every problem. By himself. If he doesn’t do it, it will not get done. If he doesn’t fix it, everything will fall. But it’s always been like this. Ever since his father passed away, he’s been the man. He’s been the fixer. The protector. The boss. The leader. He alone can do it. He alone does it. He alone. He is alone.

Through the barricade of his stress and rage and sweat and stiff muscles, he hears his door click open, and the soft tap of your feet across the floor boards. Your sweet bell voice tingles his nerves, “Alright Alfie I set up Dr. Young’s appointment next week so you are all settled. This afternoon you have two more meetings. Mr. Yusef and Mr. Edmonds. Also you will need to look over the shipping particulars for the shipment to New York in three we- Alfie are you alright?”

You pause looking at his face. He’s always looked rather scruffy and wild but this was different. His face was gaunt and ashen. His usually ruddy cheeks were pale and covered in a thin sheen of sick sweat. Those bright blue and sparkling eyes looked glossy. If you didn’t know better… they could almost be tears.

You don’t even let him try and explain away his symptoms.

“We’re cancelling the rest of your meetings today. No arguements.”

Screaming. Shouting. Bellowing. The glass in the window panes shake. The wood of the desks bang like the sound of gunshots and canons. “VILE WOMAN YOU TOUCH THAT CALENDAR YOU ARE FIRED DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU BRING YOURSELF BACK HERE NOW!”

You ignore him, calling the other secretaries, having to shout over the bellows and cries of your melodramatic yet beloved boss. The excuse you concocted didn’t matter. You wouldn’t care to remember the story you told. You would deal with it later. What mattered was clearing the calendar to make sure that Alfie could be released from his bindings that he so tightly wound around himself cutting the circulation and breath of peace.

You set the cornflower blue and cream colored tea pot on the little stove in the corner. Gingerly stoking the flame, coaxing warmth and light into a sweet roar. You call for hearty treats from the bakery next door, a good array to settle the spirit of your war laden boss. Soon the tea is ready and the soulful remedies are set. The roaring of the animal in the office has settled into rumbles. It was safe to enter.

Upon entering Alfie is again shouting, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve treacle. I am your boss. I am your superior officer. I pay your paycheck. And you have the absolute fucking audacity to…”

You let the hot words wash over you like a summer storm. You place your tools of healing on Alfie’s desk, swiftly and quietly. You take your spot in your chair across from him, grabbing his worry worn wooden pipe and filling it with his tobacco. Like a dance you’ve done a thousand times, he gingerly takes that pipe from you as he’s still yelling and scolding, pausing briefly to light it and suck in that air like it’s his last meal.

You smile as he blusters on like a thunder cloud. There was no true threat. You would never really be fired. Even if he was cross with you. There was a certain comfort in the noise. Like the storm cloud the noise signified that there was still life and that a calm would soon follow. But there was still the tightness in his shoulders. There was still that look you saw before he started to storm and blow. In a feat of courage you cocked your head to the side, “When was the last time someone hugged you?”

Immediate silence.

“What. What the fuck did you just ask me?”

“When’s the last time someone hugged you? You look like you need one sir.”

His index finger might as well have been a loaded pistol the way he pointed at you, “Men do not hug. I have never been hugged nor will I ever hug do you hear me? Hugged?! It’s even a ridiculous word. I mean… hugged?! No! I don’t want one I don’t need one that is completely and utterly ridiculous!”

You smile, knowing that he would say something like that. As if approaching a wild dog you put your hand out, offering yourself to him. Offering your vulnerability to him. Alfie stared down as thought it held an invisible gun, unsure what it was you held. Carefully and out of practice, he slowly slipped his hand in yours. Cool and smooth fingertips against is hot rough hands. Your hands so easily slips around his, finally finding its home. To Alfie’s absolute shock, he watches as your perfect thumb runs patterns and circles around his scarred knuckles and ornate rings. He watches the way your lashes flutter and soft smile blooms on your face. In a gentle caress to his ears you say, “You know you don’t have to keep it all inside. You can ask for help.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. But doesn’t move his hand away, “I don’t need help.”

You laugh, and he feels his heart skip, “Oh I’m sure you don’t. I’m sure you could run this entire thing by yourself.”

“I could.”

“I know.”

Alfie hums, satisfied that he’s won enough. You sit in silence, the muffled sounds of the distillery and street below being the only signs that you’re still on Earth. Alfie never moved his hand, never responding to your ministrations beyond a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you… for… being here.” Alfie finally breaks the silence. He can’t help the blush that rises to his ears and cheeks. He can’t look away from the smile on your perfect lips.

You nod at him, squeezing his hand and shaking it. “Always.”

[set-phasers-to-whump]

stupid ideas

prompt: seeing double

whumpee: river cartwright

fandom: slough house, slow horses

hiii here's another installment of me beating up my boy <3 hope you enjoy it!

It’s one of those exceedingly rare days where he’s been given a task to do that takes him out of Slough House. 

Granted, he’s taking the bus one stop, picking up an envelope from an acquaintance of Lamb’s, and returning, but still. Gets him out. 

Honestly, he’d bet money that there’s nothing of any value in the envelope—quite possibly, there’s nothing in it at all, and Lamb just wants to send him on a particularly stupid errand. 

Not that there’s any other kind of errand where Lamb is concerned. 

So River’s on the bus, for all of two minutes, and then he’s on the pavement, and it’s just his luck that a car drives past and splashes him with muddy rainwater as he’s waiting to cross the road. 

Just great, he thinks bitterly, stomping across the crosswalk. He can already see Lamb’s acquaintance waiting for him beneath the faded awning of what appears to be an Italian restaurant. The man looks vaguely amused, which does nothing to improve River’s mood. 

They don’t so much as exchange a word. The man hands him the envelope, which does at least look as if it’s got something in it, though maybe it’s just a takeout menu for this place. That done, the other man nods, then turns around and enters the restaurant behind him. 

For a second, River thinks about following. It’s near enough to lunchtime, and this would keep him out of the office for longer. 

Except that the glimpse of the restaurant he’d gotten through the open door hadn’t seemed terribly inviting or terribly on par with basic standards of cleanliness. He’d rather not end up with food poisoning, even if it would mean a day or two off work. 

And so he heads for the bus stop, instead. 

It seems that he’s only just missed his bus. He could walk and make it back to Slough House before the next one arrives, but there’s no point hastening the inevitable. He finds a space for himself inside the shelter and stares at the traffic passing by. 

A few more people join him, seeking cover from the rain as they wait. The bus shelter crowds up quickly, and River finds himself wishing he hadn’t bothered with it. 

He catches a glimpse of his bus approaching and begins pushing his way out of the crowd. And then someone grabs the hood of his jacket and tugs. 

“Hey!” he yelps, struggling to break free. “What the fuck?”

Whoever’s got a hold of him is strong, and River finds himself being pulled backwards against his will. And then, just like that, he’s released, but he doesn’t manage to take so much as a step before he’s being shoved forwards from behind. 

His head collides with the glass wall of the bus shelter hard enough to make him taste blood, but not hard enough to shatter the glass. For a second, he’s stunned, can’t do anything amidst the sounds of people gasping and shouting, and then the world more or less resumes its normal dimensions. 

The bus stop has cleared out, and only a few people remain—it seems he’s missed his bus again. Those still there are alternately avoiding looking at him and outright staring. 

“Are you alright?” one of them, an old woman, asks. 

“I’m fine,” River replies stiffly. He starts walking away, giving up on the bus in favor of the pavement. He hopes he’s not bleeding. Doesn’t feel like explaining to anyone, “Yeah, someone threw me into the wall of a bus shelter. No, I didn’t see who. No, I don’t know why.”

A quick pat-down of his pockets reveals the continued presence of his phone and wallet, as well as the envelope. Better be bloody worth it, he thinks, though he knows it won’t be. 

As he wanders down the pavement, heedless of the rain, River becomes more and more aware of the fact that his head fucking hurts. 

Which is not exactly a surprise. What had he expected, after getting slammed into a glass wall?

It’s annoying, though. But he reminds himself that it’s only a matter of time before he gets back to Slough House, where at least a bottle of paracetamol awaits him. He’ll be fine. 

He shakes his head slightly, like he can physically brush away the ache. 

This accomplishes the exact opposite thing, and his head spins. His vision doubles for a few seconds, and he stops dead still in the middle of the pavement. 

He’s treated to a few seconds of verbal abuse from his fellow pedestrians before he makes his feet start moving again. 

Fuck, that had been a stupid idea. 

He makes it the rest of the way back to Slough House without any further issue, unless you count the gradual increase in the intensity of his headache with every passing second spent amidst the clamor and lights of a busy London afternoon. 

He’ll just take a few painkillers, and it’ll be fine. 

Back in Slough House, he makes a pit stop at his desk for said painkillers, dry-swallows the maximum dose (which is another stupid idea, and just adds a pain in his throat to the pain in his head). That done, he makes his way to Lamb’s office as slowly as humanly possible. 

Lamb doesn’t so much as glance up from his task when River arrives. He stands on the threshold and waits, rocking back and forth on his heels, until Lamb has finished scratching between his toes with a novelty, Christmas-themed pen. 

“Took your time, didn’t you?” Lamb observes, tossing the pen into a dark corner. Its light-up red nose briefly illuminates a takeout container that might qualify as toxic waste before blinking out. 

River doesn’t answer, momentarily transfixed by the pen’s flight across the room. By the time he realizes Lamb is still saying something to him, it’s too late. 

He spends what feels like an eternity being verbally berated for nothing in particular—a Lamb specialty—before he can take no more. 

He pulls the envelope, slightly damp, out of his pocket, tosses it onto Lamb’s desk, and leaves.��

He makes it about halfway down the stairs before he has to stop and brace himself against the wall. His vision has started to double up again and there’s a nauseous feeling slowly creeping up the back of his throat. 

So he’s fucking concussed. Great. 

He makes it down the rest of the stairs with all the speed and grace of a senior citizen, and collapsing into his desk chair feels like some kind of salvation. 

For far too long, he just sits there, eyes closed, breathing slowly, and generally trying very hard not to either throw up or pass out. 

This works moderately well, at least, it does until there’s a horrible crash right outside his door, followed by an exasperated, though rather polite, “Fuck!”

River flinches, then groans. 

“Sorry, River!” Catherine calls out, and even this is far too loud. The following noise of her tidying up the shards of glass is somehow worse, but he can hardly do anything about it. 

He puts his head down onto his desk and tries to block out everything. 

This doesn’t really work, and the next thing he knows Catherine’s voice is a good deal closer than it had been before. 

“Are you alright?” she asks, and he nearly jumps out of his chair. He hadn’t realized she’d moved closer, that she’d stopped cleaning. He feels like he can still hear the shards of glass bouncing off of each other. 

He slowly turns to look at her. There’s sort of one-and-a-half of her, and the faces overlap, but he’s pretty sure she looks worried. 

“What’s happened?” she asks, and she sounds worried, too. 

“Nothing,” River says thickly, because he doesn’t want to explain. 

“River.”

To his horror, he feels tears pricking at his eyes and an uncomfortable sensation in his throat. It’s fucking stupid. He went out on a stupid errand for his stupid boss, and some fucking idiot slammed him into a fucking bus shelter, and now his head hurts so fucking much, and he just wants to not be here, for the painkillers to start working, and he wants to be at home and he wants it all to stop. 

“It’s fine,” he snaps, and the words echo through his head and make everything worse. 

“You’re not well,” Catherine replies, apparently undeterred. “Are you ill?”

He shakes his head a bit too violently and immediately casts doubts upon this answer by throwing up, narrowly missing his own shoes. 

Things get a bit fuzzier, then. The pain in his head gets even worse, pounding and consuming his thoughts, and things triple and blur, and the next thing he knows Lamb, of all people, is shining a flashlight into his eyes, which fucking hurts, is he trying to kill him?

“He’s concussed,” he hears Lamb say. River gets the sense this isn’t directed at him, but the question that follows definitely is. “What the fuck happened?”

“Got pushed…in a bus shelter,” is what River manages to say. He doesn’t think this is his best explanation, but he lacks the words to make it better. 

Lamb mutters something else, which River fails to understand, and then someone is pulling him to his feet. For a second his vision whites out, and when it returns, he finds himself being manhandled out of Slough House and into a car he vaguely recognizes as Louisa’s. 

“Where we going?” he manages to ask, not sure whether he’s addressing the driver—surely Louisa herself—or the person beside him, who he thinks might be Catherine. 

It’s Louisa that responds. “A&E.” Her voice is clipped and if River felt slightly less awful, he’d wonder about that. 

As it is, he just hums in acknowledgement and lets his eyes drift closed, trying to distract himself from the unpleasant feeling of movement. 

This doesn’t work terribly well, and he vaguely hears himself make a rather pathetic and completely involuntary noise as they go over some kind of bump. 

“It’ll be alright,” comes Catherine’s voice from beside him. “You’ll be alright, River.”

He believes her—what else can he do? He lets that thought, that he’ll be alright, wash over him, and it distracts him, just for a moment, from the pain.

thanks for reading!! fun fact i am giving my boy river a concussion on the six month anniversary of me getting one myself :P love to see it lmao. hope you enjoyed, love you all etc etc amen <3

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAu - On the other side

:3 :3 :3

Guess who is back already?!

Not with the normal cast though :3

No I had an idea for the another person in this AU.

Anyone wondering how Dream is going? :D

So this one is a bit different then all the other installments and don't expect these often as the main focus is on the gang and their now babybones boss. But this one I thought would be fun.

Welcome. To Dream dealing with this (the sometiny changes to the multiverse. A God can't lose his status without it affecting those around him after all :3)

First: here Prev: here Next: here

We good? We good. We are unedited and unbeta'ed as always.

oh shit @spotaus I actually forgot you that time. sorry fam (they gave me the original prompt which is why they keep getting added every update. They are stuck with me now)

*----------*

The sun feels so warm on his bones. Dream lays by the roots of his mother. Enjoying the warm light of the never ending late spring sun which warms his bones. His mother's voice, always loving and so proud of him.

The only thing that would make this moment better would be his brother near him. But he went to wash up a while ago.

Which is okay It isn't. where is nightmare? He will just wait right here for when he comes back.

Nightmare always joins him again. except that one time. The time when it mattered.

Dream loves his brother so much, and Nightmare loves him! Not anymore, not after everything

Dream sighs in the warm light and looks to the side. The village lays in the distance. Beautiful and lively and so so welcome of him!

Rememver your duty my son. You are meant for great things. Never forget that.

Dream hums happily as he looks back up at the branches "I know mom! I will be like you and be a great warrior and bringer of hope!" he smiles up.

A laugh in the air that sounds like a bell A bringer of balance my dear son. Remeber. Too much of one will always spell the end for one.

Dream hums as he enjoys the soft sunlight and happiness he feels in his soul.

He just wishes his brother was here. he wants his brother back, that is all he wants.

oh. I think Nightmare is back from washing himself

Dream blinks his sockets open and looks over. Near the forest edge stands Nightmare. In his purple clothes and with a small silver crown on his skull. Dream smiles and waves from his spot "Nighty! Over here!"

But Nightmare doens't move. He just watches him.

Dream frowns as he sits up "Nighty?"

The sunlight is gone as an ominious rumble is heard overhead. The light feeling in him disappears as he looks back at Nightmare "Nighty! i know it is scary but you need to get over here!" Normal trees can't protect them from thunder and lightning! Their mother can.

Nightmare just continues to stare at him from a distance. Even now Dream thinks he looks tired.

Drema raises to his feet.

His mother's voice fills his skull Dream don't go. It isn't worth the risk.

Dream shakes his skull and leaves the save shadow and cover of his mother. Running towards his brother. He needs to get to him. He can't be too late again. Not when he has this chance to reach him in time.

Dream watches as Nightmare remains rooted in place. Lightning flashes overhead and loud thunder follows right away. Drema flinches but keeps running "Nighty!" his voice lost in the loud rumble and thunder.

Dream is right by him and reaches for him. But another flash of lightning and Dream is blinded. Once he opens his sockets he is no longer by the forest. No, he is in the village. People are screaming. He searches for Nightmare only to see his mother burning in the distance. Her branches ablaze in bright orange light.

Dream rushes towards her. Panic. Why can't he stop this? Why did it happen?

He reaches her but it is already too late. His mother is gone. HIs friends are gone. His brother...

His brother...

Staring at him with betrayal. Dream can feel the hurt and betrayal in the other and Dream realises his has his hand out.

He had hit him. He had attacked him.

Dream reaches for his brother but Nightmare flinches back, away from him.

Because he had hurt him.

Dream can't speak. He can't move.

Nightmare glares at him "Nothing to say for yourself?"

Dream tries but no words leave him. Please Nighty. He is sorry.

Nightmare just continues to glare at him "After everything?! You only came because of those stupid villagers?!"

Dream shakes and tries to shake his skull. tries to deny it. But he can't. His body isn't moving. Nightmare is right, dream had always only cared about the village and what they wanted.

Nightmare turns and walks away. Away from him. Away from their ruined home.

Dream wants to follow but can't move. He is locked in place. just like he had been when he had been turned to stone.

He tries to reach for Nightmare but he is already gone and everything goes dark. Just dark dark dark dark-

Dream gasps as he sits up and checks himself. He can move! He is fine! he... he...

He looks around and sees that he fell asleep on his couch again... in his own living room... again...

He sighs as he sits normally on the couch and puts his skull between his hands. That same dream again. it had been haunting him ever since he had first faced Nightmare. But the dream kept coming back more often lately, for almost two months now...

He is so tired. He can't deal with everyone needing his help today. He can't deal with everyone demanding his attention and support today...

Dream glances at his phone and grabs it. So many numbers in there and many many texts and missed calls already. He ignores them all and finds the right number. He calls it and waits.

"Hey Dream! How are you?"

Drema feels apart of him relax "Blue..."

"... What is wrong?"

Dream feels bad for asking this off him "... can... can i please come over?" he is suposed to be strong. a bringer of hope and light. Yet he keeps failing. He tries so hard but keeps messing up or not being enough.

"Of course. I will clear my own schedule. Can you get here okay?"

Dream smiles and nods "yeah... be there in a bit." Honestly thank everything for Blue.

--

Dream sits on the couch in a different living room. Still feelign exhausted but a bit better. He had told Blue all about the dream he had had... The way it had been bothering him more and more lately and just how exhausting he had been lately.

Blue sits by him as he eats his bowl of cereal, Dream's own bowl untouched. Blue hums as he takes a bite "Seems to me that you are getting burned out." and he eats another bite.

Dream frowns "no? That is for people who do stuff they don't like. I like helping people!" generally... sometimes...

He is the guardian of positivity! He is suposed to like helping others! That is hiw whole purpose!

He wishes he could ask his mother... He wishes he could ask Nightmare, Nightmare had always been better at listening and hearing what their mother said.

Blue hums as he eats more of his breakfast "Everyone can get burned out by everything. It is why Ink can get an artblock. It is why Sci can get overwhelmed and annoyed with his own work. Jsut because you like soemthing doesn't mean you can't get stressed or overwhelmed by it."

Dream blinks confused at Blue and Blue smiles "My bro has it more often than me. Said it like that too much of one thing is always bad, no matter what it is."

Dream... Dream suddenly has a strong sense of dejavu.

Blue nods "Even stuff you like! Say... I love taco's. It is my favourite! But... if i had to cook it everyday and only eat taco's? I would get sick of it. It doesn't mean i don't like them any less. Just, even too much of a good thing is bad. you know?"

Dream gives a slow nod as he stares at Blue "what... what should i do?"

Blue shrugs as he finishes his meal "Take a break? Don't do the guardian stuff for a bit?"

Dream frowns "I can't take a day off!"

Blue tilts hsi skull "Why not? Having a good work ethic is important, I myself have one too, but i know i need breaks. Obviously not as much as some people!" Blue looks over his shoulder with a glare.

Stretch chuckles in the distance "guilty as charged!"

Blue huffs but turns back "But breaks are important. It is why there are rules nad laws about days off and having breaks every so many hours. It sounds to me that you have not been using your vacation days and you should at this point." he puts his empty bowl away and quickly washes it before joining his said again.

Dream already feels anxious. PEople like and listen to him because he helps them. If he stops doing that they may dislike him or not listen and then what does he do?!

Blue sits next to him and keeps waiting for a reply.

Dream rubs his arm "what.. what about... work? What about spreading positivity?"

Blue thinks it over "I mean... It should be fine right? The gang and your brother have been very quiet for the last... what... month? two months?"

Dream nods as he looks at his hands. the anxiety returns "He must be planning somethign big..." something gigantic. And dream has no idea and doesn't even know where to start with getting information or anything-

Blue snaps his fingers and Drema blinks out of his own thoguhts before shooting Blue a confused look.Blue grins at him "I honestly didn't expect that to work. Stop worrying about stuff that hasn't happened yet. Think about the here and now. Your friends are doing okay. The omega timeline doesn't need your help with anything they cna't do themselves. The gang hasn't done anything yet and Errir and Ink still have their third cease fire."

Blue pokes Dream "What will help you right now."

Dream stares at Blue for a moment before looking away. He thinks before he speaks "I think... I think I would like to go... home..." Blue frowns so Dream tries to explain "YOu know... home home... I haven't been there in ages... my... my magic has been... shifting... it is strange... I don't bring as much positivity to others as i used to anymore. Me just being there doesn't make others happy anymore. I... I was hoping... maybe i can find answers there?"

Blue blinks before smiling "That sounds like a wonderful idea! If you give me ten minutes I can get ready to join you."

Dream blinsk confused "You will join me?"

Blue grins and nods "Of course! what are friends for?"

Dream feels lighter and smiles "Thank you blue."

--

not even fifteen minutes later and they had arrived in Dreamtale. Dream... Dream isn't sure what he had been expecting. but it was the same as he remembered. no colours. everythign is grey and frozen. lacking anytype of magic.

It hurt.

They had arrived at the village and blue looks around "oh.. i... i am sorry..." he holds his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

They walk around the village together and that same bittersweet feeling returns to Dream. He remembers playing games here. the little marktes he would visit. How everyone would always be happy to see him.

It had been a beautiful place.

And now it is gone and-

Dream freezes. Blue doens't notice as he keeps walking but dream can't look away. because there in the distance... in another building... that... that looks like...

"Nighty?"

The mirage, or vision, or hallucination looks up in shock. before pure fear overtakes the expression.

He looks so young... had they been that young?

Dream feels himself take a step closer. his soul is pulsing madly and his sockets starts to itch with tears. is he going insane?

The tiny form disappears from view as it disappears behind a wall and out of the view of the window.

Dream doesn't think and starts sprinting.

"Dream?! What is wrong?!"

Dream doesn't stop to explain. He runs through the empty streets. please. please. just a moment longer. just bring that vision back. He just wants to see his brother one more time.

Please.

A crack much like a thunder fills the air and Dream rushes into the house he had originally seen the vision in.

Nothing.

Dream sobs as he falls to his knees.

He was too late again.

Blue joins his side a moment later but Dream can't even begin to explain.

Why did it feel like he lost his brother all over again?

Why did his soul hurt this badly?

Blue holds him and continues to hold him until Drema calms down again.

Dream sobs "Maybe... maybe this was a mistake..." he can't admit he jsut saw a vision of his own brother but as a child... He can't admit he is actually going insane.

Blue just continues his hug "Or maybe this is exactly what you needed. You have been holding in this grieve for a long time Dream. Maybe it needs to be released?"

Maybe he has a point. Dream leans heavily into the hug.

Blue holds them both up easily "Any place you want to visit?"

Dream holds it tightly before looking around "Maybe... maybe my friend is still here? It has only been about two years since a left." she had given him tea and let him sleep on her couch... Later she had broken him out of his stone prison and helped him as he grew up to be who he is today.

He wants to be sure she is okay.

Blue nods as he looks around the village "where to?"

Dream points in a direction "Her house should be over there..." They walk together in silence and Dream finally spots the old house. But it looks old and broken. As if no one had lived there for centuries.

Dream feels himself shake "That can't be right." he rushes inside and freezes as he finds a pile of dust.

oh... how?

Dream sits next to the pile and sobs. Blue joins his side and hugs him.

Time passes and Dream ends up carefully collecting the dust and putting it in a jar. He will have to figure out what her favourite things were and-

"euh... Dream? What is this?"

Dream blinks and looks over to see Blue holding an old beautiful book. Dream frowns as he walks over and reads the title.

'Dreamtale'

Dream feels himself freeze "I... I don't know... where did you find it?"

Blue points towards the room. Dream frowns "I... i was told to never enter that as that had been her personal room. I didn't want to breka the trust..."

Blue hums before just opening the book. Dream hisses "Blue!"

Blue doesn't even look apologetic "Dream. If i have learned one thing about the multiverse, is having an universe named after one person spells trouble for everyone else in that universe. Why would she hide this from you?"

Dream can't help but agree and the two sit together at the table and start reading the story.

--

Dream wants to throw up. He is going to throw up. He just sits with his skull in his hands.

How... how often had nightmare asked him not to leave... to leave him alone? How often had Nightmare told him that the villagers didn't like him.

Dream... Dream never listened.

Dream sobs as he lays fully on the table.

The person he thought had been his friend... the person who gave him tea and a place to sit and rest. drugged him... all to make sure he couldn't interfere when they went to... when they had planned to murder... to murder...

dying...

all those years again.. Nightmare had accused him of not even caring that he had been dying. dream had thought it had been the corruption somehow talking to him, mocking him. Trying to make him feel horrible...

It had been Nightmare himself... accusing him of leaving him to be hurt and die alone.

And he had been right.

Dream sobs as tears leave his sockets. His sight finds the jar with dust of that... that... woman! That! Rage burns through him but two arms keep him in place.

"It is okay Dream. Let it all out."

Dream shakes his skull as he pushes closer to Blue "It isn't okay!! I am a fucking idiot! I was too fucking blind and now! Now I-" more sobs.

Blue jsut holds him tighter "You were a kid dream"

Dream sobs as he tightens his hold on blue "So was nighty..."

His dreams... his dreams and even that hallucination must have been trying to tell him all along there was more than he saw. That something had been going on. But dream was too busy. Always too busy. Before he had been too busy wiht the village and villagers... and now he was too busy with the multiverse.

eventually the tears dry as Blue just keeps holding him.

Dream sniffs "How do i fix this?"

Blue pauses his movement and clearly thinks for a while. Dream feels worse the longer Blue doesn't answer.

Blue sighs as he leans his own skull against Dream "I don't know. I would say you could try to talk with Nightmare but... well..."

Dream tightens his hold on Blue. every time him and Nightmare met they never spoke. Dream had for a while tried to tell Ngihtmare he could do better nad make up for the wrongs he did...

No wonder Nightmare doesn't want to speak to him anymore. Dream pretty much said that Nightmare should feel bad for fighting for his own survival... that he should feel bad for killing those who tried to kill him.

Dream feels sick all over again as he pushes closer to Blue. Being near blue helps.

Blue keeps a tighter hold on him "For now... you can take the book with you at least... keep your story with you you know? And maybe try and approach the subject if you see him again?"

Dream nods before anxiety reaches him "How will i tell everyone this?"

Blue pulls back and stares him in the socket "Stop. YOu dont have to tell them."

Dream looks away "They deserve an explanation and-"

Blue shakes his skull and looks at Dream "They don't. Just because they think they do deosn't mean they actually do. You don't have to hurt yourself to please them. You don't have to share this just opened hurt with those who won't support you dream."

Dream still feels sick "won't that be selfish?"

Blue shakes his skull "people demanding you share your trauma with them are entitled. You don't have to tell anything if you aren't comfortable."

Dream sniffs before nodding.

Blue nods and slowly helps him too his feet "Now. We came here with a mission and that was to find out what was up with your magic... the book didn't hold the answer so i am going to assume it may have to do with adult you. is there any other place you could learn more of yourself?"

Dream frowns. his head still a bit foggy "maybe... mom would know... but she never told us much... and she is gone... and i haven't been there since... well. i turned to stone." even after he got broken out he hadn't been brave enough to return.

Blue nods "How about.... we walk around first... see if we find anymore... clues" he eyes the book before looking back at him "And once you are ready go see your mom?"

Dream thinks for a moment before nodding.

Dream and Blue end up going to the hill after a quick walk around the village. All the good memories that Dream had had had already turned bittersweet after them dying. Now? They just burned him. Made Dream angry in a way he couldn't put into words. He had helped those unthankful assholes! He helped them day after day after day! Adn they hurt... they hurt... They killer his mother! They tried to kill Nightmare!

They walk up the hill silently and dream is dragging is feet.

Dream didn't think he could feel worse but he was wrong.

Because right by the dead stump of his mother.

Are two old graves.

One saying Nim. One saying Dream.

The worst part is that they looked well maintained and there are fresh flowers on them.

After that Blue calls it a day and helps him home. Saying that they will ask other people in the multiuniverse about gods changing powers later. and with a crack like thunder they teleport away and out of that universe again.

*-----------------*

... *coughs* did someone say brother complex? Also this ended up a lot longer than planned? Woops? Look it was just suposed to be about Dream seeing tiny NIghtmare in their old AU but then a lot happened and I figured Dream also had a lot of trauma and well... tada?

Look. I never said Dream was dealing well with the changes... If i am being honest Nightmare took his own slight body horror better than Dream took the slight changes around him and the vision of his younger brother :3

First: here Prev: here Next: here

anyway. Love you all. You are fun and nice to hang out with! See you next drabble. also i can't believe this account that i just had to give little extra information abut my main AU just... has a second AU living here now.... guess that happened...

[sanospet]

✩ FAILURES & FERVOUR ✩

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - 𝘠𝘈𝘒𝘜𝘡𝘈!𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘎𝘈𝘙𝘈𝘒𝘐 𝘛𝘖𝘔𝘜𝘙𝘈 𝘟 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙

𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦 : tomura viewed you as something of a painting, a timeless, priceless piece, highly sought after, something to be handled with the utmost fragility. the air that surrounded you, an artistic mix of expertly chosen colours, rare, scarce. the first form of portrait art, a being so captivating, alluring, serene that one had the overwhelming urge to capture it in the moment and seal it's divinity for all to indulge in forevermore. touya's rusty, battered, razored claws, his poison tipped words, piercing through the canvas with ease, scarring your skin. tomura's lips, his unyielding fervency, cementing the tares, sewing the canvas that is you, together again with his touch alone.

warnings and notes!

18+ . angst . hurt comfort . quirkless au . the shimura’s are very much alive and well (though tomura doesn’t use the name “tenko” anymore) . mentions of firearms . reader is held at gunpoint . touya being an absolute creep . heavy suggestions of the reader having sexual trauma/fear of men . reader has a breakdown . reader has deeply rooted self worth/esteem issues . heavy suggestions of the reader having SH scars . guilt/self-blaming . tomura, the king of comfort . they have huge crushes on one another, lol . pet names (“kid”, “dear”, “love”) . gender neutral reader . proofread though there still may be some spelling mistakes, enjoy <33

authors note:

another very self indulgent story, except it’s just the beginning because this is the first instalment of my “veiled blossoms” fic, yippeeee! i feel like this chapter is a little too choppy, but im just trying to set a good foundation to spring off of for the next few chapters. im not sure how long of a fic this is going to be, but i do have most of the story figured out and planned, and it’s already looking quite lengthy, lol. anyways, i hope you enjoy this chapter and i hope to show you the next instalment soon, thank you for reading! <33

- linus

tomura shigaraki masterlist | chapter 1

"what do you say ?" hana spoke, sight sweeping over your tense posture, "look, i know it's a lot to ask of you, but it'll just be for a little while," doe-eyed, pleading "just until he finds his footing."

shifting in your seat, the cooling chill wafting through the dining area mutating from a pleasurable breeze into more of an undesirable gust, goosebumps perking up on your skin. mouth drying at the mere thought of an unfamiliar man wandering freely around your safe space, the zone in which you derived comfort and solace, tainted by the presence of another.

clammy hands smoothing over the fabric of your dress, "he can't go back home ?" voice softly wavering, anxiety tingling in your skin, treading carefully as you questioned, earning the gentle shake of hana's head, letting out a sigh, "my father wouldn't step within ten feet of him," she spoke, a tight smile forming, fork pushing at the pasta resting on her plate "and im afraid that feeling is reciprocated," the words muttered as she trailed off.

silence blanketing over you both, your sight hazed, unfocused as you stared at the cooling food on your plate, mind tugging memories of the countless, nefarious tales hana had spoken of about the horrid man. the troublesome upbringing she had faced alongside her brother, due to her father's monstrous nature, your heart clenching at that.

offering a wordless nod of agreement, a soft smile dawning your features, hana's voice upping an octave, through a gasp, "really ?" excitement failing to take bay, lacing her words, "really," you confirmed. hana taking your hands in her's at the affirmation, "he won't be a bother, you won't even notice him" granting a small squeeze, "i'll make sure of it," lips curling to match your own.

                               ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

tomura was unlike anything you'd imagined.

you hadn't really a clue what to expect from the man, the stories you'd heard regarding him only pertaining to their youth. hana failing to update you, nor give a proper briefing on his development in all the years she'd been visiting him in captivity, granted, there had been little reason to.

slumber evading you on the eve of tomura's arrival, your mind wandering...maybe he was someone dry, stoic, harsh, the stereotypes of a convict. perhaps he had grown taller, broader, recalling the humorous comments hana had frequently made regarding his height and stature as you revisited their younger years through words.

the weeks of his presence swam by smoothly and tomura had been settling in comfortably, though despite hana's promise, his residence was striking, as was he. unable to neglect your shameful emotions, losing the tussle with your heart, finally acknowledging that long lost feeling bubbling within you during each recurring encounter. it was something child-like, innocent, a match that ignited reveries, flushed skin and the heightened awareness of your every move before him.

the giddiness, the joy, the anxiety, all knotted in a frothy, lopsided bow in your chest, accompanied haphazardly with the rush of adrenaline and stuttered speech as your eyes met the silky carmine held within his own.

niveous waves cascaded down tomura’s back, sleeping soundly against flourished muscles, hana commenting on how much it had grown since his detainment. crimson pearls centring his face creating an abstract union with the snowy locks framing them. an ocean of jagged rubies, something you could drown yourself in without a second thought, serene, yet a gloom, seemingly governed by scylla herself, swam within them.

you'd lost yourself in the sparkles he used for sight a myriad of times, his glowing locks falling into them as you rambled on, yet tomura remained attentive throughout every syllable. eyes remaining on yours as your lips moved, words often trapping in your throat under his paralysing surveillance.

hana's frequent absence from your shared home was something you'd grown accustomed to, her often leaving for hours, and sometimes even days, at a time. schedule filled with endless to-do's, ranging from school, work, outings with friends and trips.

never had it become a cumbersome arrangement, though, with the recent developments, it was presented with an added layer of anxiety. tomura's presence hailing complications in the methodical act, due to the, now native, sensation that routinely filled your stomach under his watch.

fingers flat against the ingredient, hands moving as you diced the tofu on the cutting board before you, a groggy voice, rasp ever-present, sounding, "cute pyjamas," lazily shifting the dampened towel over the back of his head, taking in the skin flaunting ensemble you'd chosen to lounge in.

muscles tensing at the sudden interruption, letting out a small yelp, the sharpened knife slipping from your grip, nipping your skin in the process, crimson pearls soon seeping out of the new wound.

"hey, are you alright ?" brows furrowing as tomura joined you, unease linking the sentence together, reflexive hands quickly moving to grab hold of your retracting ones, startled by the swiftness of his actions.

face resembling that of a deer in headlights as tomura's softened eyes met your widened ones, gaze gentle as he stilled his movements, arm remaining outstretched, beckoning, lips curling into a sweet smile "let me have a look, yeah ?" tone soothing, almost guiding, as you placed your delicate wrist in his palm, cuffed in a tender grip.

crimson orbs briefly meeting yours, his eyes analysing the injury before linking once more, gaze fixed as your examined digit slowly disappeared between his lips. a meek gasp slipping past your own at the act, face contorting in a wince, cheeks growing warm under his watchful inspection, feeling bare as tomura observed the expressions you made with intrigue.

yet you remained stagnant, the warmth of his tongue collecting your very essence, ears burning to a shade similar to that of his eyes as he pulled out the injured finger with a gentle pop. "you should really put a band-aid on that," breath fanning against your skin, heavy lidded gaze glancing toward the abandoned chopping board, "i'll take over from here."

tomura's heartbeat rattled against his ribcage, prior actions replaying on his mind like a broken record as you disappeared down the hall. cheeks rosing at his intensifying inability to control such sudden desires, the ebbs and flows of your visage under his touch singed into the forefront of his mind like a brand mark.

pressing the remedying item against the wound, feet padding against the wooden floor as you joined tomura in the kitchen once more, his frosted locks almost shimmering under the daylight. the black crewneck he adorned, seemingly a size too small, essentially compressing his muscles, exposing every defined part of the man at an easy glance. grey joggers sitting low on his hips, a sliver of abdominal skin separating the two fabrics.

"sorry about your finger, how's it doing ?" setting two small bowls of miso soup down on the coffee table, "taking it like a champ ?" a slight smile accompanying the words, pulling one from you in return, "o-oh, i-it's alright," with a dismissive wave, "and um...i can still help, you know ?" feet shifting beneath you, his raised hand halting your movements, "with an ailment so arduous ?" nodding at the platter that had been set out, "take a seat, kid."

tomura chewed at a slow pace, opting to savour the blend of tastes on his tongue, lids shut, bliss dusting his features in a rosy smile, "i still haven't gotten used to fresh home-cooked meals again," through a small sigh, "the shit they serve in there felt like a unique kind of torture," sight lifting to you, "you're a good cook, you know that ?"

the unexpected praise almost sending the food in your throat back up with a suppressed cough, you shook your head, swallowing, "w-well i can't take all of the credit," smiling softly, widened eyes trained on the table, cheeks warming at the words, "you made the rolled omelette," taking a bite, meeting his gaze, "seems like you haven't lost your touch."

tomura's heart swelling at the words, smirk growing "oh yeah ? go on," letting out a gentle giggle as you watched tomura's arms fold over one another on the dining table, leaning closer, "and the rice is good too, tomura," eyes raking over your features, cocking his head, "just good ?" inching as you spoke, "perfect," taking a spoonful into your mouth.

tomura's ears adorning a tint as he regressed, back flush against the chair, "well, now you're just stroking my ego, but," shrugging, the corners of his lips tugging upward, "i'll take credit where credit is due."

jagged rubies catching your eyes in an unbreakable link, that familiar ripple quilting your stomach once more, tomura's breathing shallowing under your observation, rouge tinting your skin. stranded in the the entanglement of ambience caging the two of you, aura's intermingling, you found yourself becoming lost in the sunset orbs before you.

harnessing all of your might to forcibly look away, your gaze falling onto the, now lukewarm, soup before you, lips pushing out the first few words that sprang in your mind, "o-oh, uh, where's hana ?" gently clearing your throat from it's wavers, "it's um, her day off, no ?"

tomura's chest rumbling with a gentle hum, "she's off doing me a favour, left quite a while ago to grab my things from back home," spooning soup into his mouth as you nodded along, fingers fiddling with the drawstring of your shorts, "i see," sight raising to him once more, "so um...she'll be back soon, then ?"

the playful swirl in tomura's orbs were overt, setting his utensils down as he spoke, "what, you don't enjoy my company ?" sputtering at the taunting words, scrambling to clarify "w-what ? y-you know that's not what i meant, tomura."

tomura almost felt guilty as he soaked in your flustered stature in amusement, cheeks rosy, eyes wide, glossy lips spilling stutters as you attempted to speak, almost. tomura's eyes squinting in turn at the tumbling words, "so you admit that you do enjoy my company ?" question left out to dry as your mouth opened and closed, failing to search for a response as he continued on,"i mean, i hope you do, at least," shrugging, tone apathetic as he leaned closer once more, "since, you know...it'll be just you and i in this place for a while," whispering secretively.

brows dipping, soft smile shifting to more of a frown at the confession, "w-wait..." confusion blanketing your face, contorting your features, "w-what do you mean ?" tomura's eyes almost sparkling as they widened at the query, "oh, she didn't tell you yet, huh ?" a soft laugh slipping past his lips, despite his attempt to suppress it, tomura's enjoyment in your naïvety of the situation all too apparent, "t-tell me what, tomura !?"

                               ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

"you can't be serious..." the rustling of tomura rummaging through storage boxes sounded throughout the room. hana's hand setting pets onto yours, speaking over the ruckus, "i know, im sorry i couldn't break it to you myself," a gentle pout resting on her lips, "but it's not set in stone," she assured, "i don't know why tomura told you so soon." head snapping toward the man in question, razor-edged glare piercing daggers into his skin, tomura offering an indifferent shrug in return, a small smile twisting his lips as he continued his search, earning a sigh from the other, "i was just voicing my thoughts at the time."

a gentle smile taking over her features as she turned to you, "our three year anniversary is coming up soon, and i wanted to surprise her with a trip," words mellow, hushed, eyes almost glazed over in a dreamy daze, something she couldn't help but fall into whenever she spoke of her lover. "we've been thinking about moving in together for a while now, so i thought it would be the perfect time to test it out, you know ?" eyes meeting yours, "a trial of sorts, to see how well we mesh in a shared space," brows upturned, heart clenching as she gushed, "and if it goes well, you'll take the next step ?" the apples of her cheeks plumping, baring a toothy smile, "exactly."

the corners of your lips tugging upward, twinning her countenance as an ache rippled through your chest, heart falling victim to the tugs of different directions. the memories of the irreplaceable years you'd spent together under the same roof rushing to the forefront of your mind, "im happy for you, truly, it just," sighing, "it just caught me off guard a little."

hana had become somewhat of a little sister to you over the span of your shared tenancy, someone you grew to cherish deeply. someone you confided in just as much as she did in you, someone irreplaceable. albeit the heartache you were currently experiencing, having had front row seats to the unwinding story of her love, cheering her on from the sidelines as she pined and fell for her partner, you couldn't help that sense of pride you felt for her growth.

pulling you in for a hug, your chin resting on hana's shoulder, "i'll miss you so much," offering a gentle squeeze, "i'll miss you too, but i'll still be around," pulling away, "you can't get rid of me that easily," sharing a giggle.

"don't worry," tomura chimed, "you'll still have me," offering a toothy grin, "how comforting, tomura," sarcasm laced between your giggled words. "do you have a destination picked out for your little sojourn ?" setting a small cardboard box down on the coffee table as he settled into the armchair, "jeju island," she spoke warmly, "felicia has always spoken about it." cooing, "how romantic," you teased, playfully pushing her arm, rouge tinting her cheeks, a small laugh leaving her lips.

"it's a quick flight too, no ?" tomura added, hands avidly sifting through the contents before him, "yeah, about five hours," she affirmed, attention diverted by tomura's fiddling fingers, "what have you been looking for ?" brows sewn as tomura pulled out an item, eyes lighting up at the sight, "im surprised mom was able to keep all of my stuff hidden so well," under his breath, a verbalised of thought.

hana rising from her perch on the sofa, taking a peek at the box's contents, a small sigh falling from her chest, "you're not actually thinking of going back into freelance, are you ?" tomura shrugging, "what choice do i truly have ?" ruby eyes locking with the misty orbs his sister held, surveying her looming figure "you think my record would appeal to a retail manager, hana ?" satire soaked words, earning an uneven smile of annoyance from the other, "where are you even planning on setting up shop ?"

tomura's eyes drifted between the both of you, wordless, gifting a look mixed with that of expectance and hope. "here !?" hana's booming voice drenched in astonishment, nose scrunching in disgust, "god, that's so unhygienic, tomura, you need a sterile environment." he couldn't help the growing itch to roll his eyes at his sister's incessant critiques, sighing, "well, my clients aren't exactly the picky type, hana, they'll take what they can get, and this," finger gesturing around the room in a circular motion, "is luxurious enough."

"fine, fine," jaded words through an exhale, exhaustion seeping through her demeanour, "well, you're not the only one that's living here, alright ? im fine with it, but," their locked gaze severing, shifting toward your quiet stance on the couch.

attention alternating between the two, brows dipping slightly, feeling somewhat small under their spectation. engrossed by the gentle aura tomura held with but a glance, his orbs almost luring you into a trance once they linked. you could feel yourself giving into it once more, your silence under his gaze amassing a smile from him, "i think they want me to stay here with them, hana."

eyes remaining secured onto yours, mischief whirling within them, opal tendrils softly shifting as he cocked his head, "somebody's gotta keep them company or they'll grow lonely," smile growing into a knowing smirk, gaze shifting to hana's, "you know, after being abandoned by their roommate and all."

rosy cheeks deepening in shade at the words, inventive mind meticulously crafting countless scenarios at a hectic pace with the prompt. flashes of the intimate morning you'd shared still fresh on your mind, overriding your brain, heart rate quickening.

hana's mouth opening to retaliate, cut off by your awaited response, "y-yeah, sure, i-i don't mind" nodding firmly. "great, because i already have my first two clients booked in," rising from his seat, small box in hand, "you already booked-" hana's irritation wafting off of her in potent waves, slicing her words short with a sigh and an inhale, attempting to regain her composure, "how did you know we would even agree to any of this ?" brow lifted in question.

tomura offered her a smile, "because you're a gracious and kind sister," words woven tightly with mockery, his hand sifting through her locks, ruffling her hair as she swatted him away, "and you're little friend over here is quite fond of me," setting a few gentle pats to your head, "they'd do anything i ask," hooking a finger beneath your chin, raising your gaze, "wouldn't you, dear ?"

unable to suppress the blood rushing to your skin, his minor touch flustering you exponentially. hana's hand moving to shove his before you could react, a tut heavy on her tongue, "teasing isn't a form of gratitude, tomura, quit it."

                               ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

knock. knock. knock.

the rhythmic set of belligerent bangs strode in bold waves, your muscles tensing at the unusual aggression set behind them. robust slams violently ripping you from your heart-eyed daze, gaze drifting toward the clock on the wall, brows knitting, the sharp sounds echoing through the hall, piercing your ears as they continued.

eyes shifting toward the flatscreen displaying the paused movie you'd been watching with tomura, his presence lacking as you waited. the indent he had made on the couch still retaining his warmth, jointly with the skin along the back of your neck, goosebumps soon budding in place of his arm. fingers fiddling with restless yearning, gaze fixed on the darkened hall, anticipating his emergence to no avail.

phone screen remaining in it's dimmed form, the virtual contact you'd had with your roommate dating back to daylight hours, anxiety blossoming, the routine messages you'd usually exchange upon arrival, void. palms flattening against one another as you writhed, feet meeting the floor, wary footsteps moving toward the entrance.

"h-hana, i-is that you?" calling out, skepticism thickly dousing the string tying the sentence together, face contorting in confusion, words greeted with only the rustling of jackets beyond the slab of wood. shuddery hand clasping the doorknob, "i-i thought you weren't supposed to be back until-" speech clogging instantaneously, mouth falling shut under the glowering gaze of the two men towering before you, their figures shrouded in shadow, backlit by the glow of the moon.

eyes meeting azure, raven tufts almost being swallowed by the night, shade wrapping around him like a scarf. his smooth ink filled skin peaking out through his sleeves, travelling up his body, crawling up and over his jaw like a muzzle. face jewels offering the sight of glimmering stars beneath his lips, trailing the curl of his ears. cyanic stare bearing the ability to incite serenity and calm, yet they seared your skin with ease, seemingly hostile, a ravenous flame burning deep within them.

his companion almost a complete juxtaposition to his being entirely, a golden aura permeating off of him in rolls, something luring, coercive. yet, the warm smile adorning his face didn't quite reach his eyes, the foiled expression setting a pang of unease to your stomach, your throat burning. artistry coating his flesh, pierced skin stretched with the curl of his lips, sharp teeth bared, the contempt swirling within his eyes curtained by sunny tendrils.

fingers lifting from their frozen stature, unclasping the handle, the door falling shut with a slam, almost tugged by the swallowing atmosphere that circled the men. breath caught in your throat, body fixed in its rigid position, the scrutiny of their gaze locking you into a trace-like state, left ogling at the entrance, mouth agape as you pushed out a shaky exhale.

a jagged shard of ice shooting down your spine like a missile, goosebumps rising on your skin, anxiety almost penetrating your blood as you took note of the unlocked door. fingers flying to remedy it instinctually, jolting as warmth spread across your shoulder, "what's going on ?" tomura spoke, hand retracting as you let in a sharp gasp, swiftly turning to meet his gaze.

brows scrunching as he took in your ashen expression, "woah, woah, are you okay ?" concern laced heavily in the words, your forefinger flying to his lips, "n-not so loud," whispering, hand clasping his own, footsteps light as you guided him to the living area once more.

turning to him, eyes frantic, breathing quickening "s-scary guys...d-door," words muddling as your mind scrambled, "i-i don't know, w-who...", shaking your head, "hey, hey," tomura's hand moving to your arm, "it's okay," he assured, offering soothing strokes, "take your time."

his fingers shifting to your chin, "look at me, kid," a soft smile, eyes linked, "breathe for me, yeah ?" tomura taking an inhale as you mimicked his actions, letting out an exhale before repeating, respiration soon slowing to a normal rate. "now, tell me what's going on," voice failing to blanket the slight waver in his tone, expecting.

"there are two really scary guys at the front door!" whisper shouting, the knot of discomfort tightening in tomura's stomach releasing at the confirmation, tongue tarting with a metallic taste as he nodded. raking a hand through his soft locks with a sigh, "already ?" murmured, more to himself, your voice spiking as the words reached you, "you know them ? who are they !?" frenzied query's unanswered as tomura's hand circled around your wrist, guiding to toward the staircase.

"stay in your room and don't come out," tomura's command cushioned with pleading, "you're not seriously thinking of letting them in, are you !?" spiked clamps piercing either side of tomura's heart as he scanned your face, panic sewing your features together. he couldn't bare to meet your gaze as he spoke, "they're here for me, kid, just..." the confession sitting heavy on his chest, letting out a sharp sigh, "just, stay in your room and don't make a sound, yeah ?"

frustration itching at you, his aversion adding piles to the answers you sought after. your hand moving to his chin, forcing your eyes to link, "tomura, tell me what's-" speech sliced by the rattling of the door on its hinges as the sharp bangs ensued once more, your breath hitching.

tomura's fingers pushing tousled tendrils from your face, "i need you to trust me on this, ___, can you do that ?" tomura's hand clasping yours, rubies scanning your face, searching for an answer, pleading. the mountainous pressure of time itself, spurring on the anxiety bouncing between the both of you. replying with a nod, "use your words for me, kid," he whispered, the gems he used for sight tying with yours, "i trust you, tomura," words firm.

tomura offering a soft nod, grip loosening as he shifted to leave, pausing as you set a gentle squeeze to his hand, "w-wait," eyes linking once more, the wet sheen blanketing your orbs striking, "just be careful...please," tomura's lips curling, a tender smile resting on them at the plead, guilt swimming in the lake of passion in his eyes, "of course, kid."

                               ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

the reflection presented obsidian locks, tufts of hair falling into azure, the lifted sleeve of touya's shirt revealing the film stretched flush against his skin, blanketing the new scar.

keigo's relaxed form nestled into the armchair, tomura’s snow tucked behind his ears, glimmering rubies focused on his working hands. "jail wasn't a total waste of time, i see," keigo’s lips curling into a smirk, sight resting on the new design touya adorned on his skin, the freshly dipped inky needles continuing to puncture his own, "bet you had cues of inmates wanting your art on them, huh ?" the words hinting more toward mockery than anything.

tomura paid the double meaning no mind, shrugging as he replied, "only tatted a few," tissue dabbing to collect the excess ink, "i soon realised that cup ramen wasn't necessarily the best form of payment," crimson meeting amber as their gazes linked, "and you know i only tattoo those i know without charge."

keigo's lips stretching into a smile, hand resting on his chest with a sunny sigh, "i feel so special all of a sudden," a light laugh on his lips as he called out, "you hear that, touya ?" azure shifting to ivory as the man rolled his eyes in the reflection, "yeah, yeah, don't let it go to your head, he'll have us compensate him in some other way sooner or later." tomura's movements slowing as he caught the others gaze in the mirror, a smirk loosely twisting tomura's lips at the words, "so, you're crashing here, then ?" keigo continued, earning a hum, "for the meantime, yeah."

touya moving to lounge on the sofa, head shifting as he surveyed the room, "and where's that pretty little thing who slammed the door in our face earlier ?" tone laced thickly with desire, "this is her place, no ?" tomura's chest tightening, lips tugging downward as his throat dried, "you had us waiting for an awfully long time."

touya's mind burned with the image you presented, cotton tank top sitting flush against your skin, cut low on your chest, thin straps reaching up and over your shoulder holding the thin fabric in place. skimpy pyjama shorts, satin, hanging low on your hips, a lick of skin separating the two fabrics. the lengthy stretch of your smooth legs, the dips and curves of your body, the scars littering it, a figure he so deeply craved to explore.

the deer eyed stare he'd been granted upon your meet-cute setting a ravenous fire within him, your seeming naïvety at first glance unleashing the scent of a potent love potion, captivating him completely. touya wanted to analyse everything that was you, run his calloused fingers through your tousled hair, his bloodied hands across your damaged skin, push his lips against yours and taste your very intrinsic nature on his tongue.

the tattoo gun continued to whir in tomura's paused hand, palm turning white, grip crushing, shadowy gaze turning to touya. darkened pearls dusted with ire as they met cyan, a smirk growing on pierced lips at the unspoken challenge, "what, she hiding or some-" words sliced by a sharp tone, "they're no-one, really," tomura's dismissive tone filled with warning, "not worth mentioning," strict words pronounced.

touya hummed, nodding slowly as tomura let out a breath through his nose "not worth mentioning, huh ?" the words spoken into the air, parroted if anything, through a laugh as touya rose to his feet. tomura's frantic tone failing to be suppressed, "where are you going ?" eyes trained on the dark haired man, his lax posture irritating tomura's skin, the need to scratch overbearing. "the restroom," touya's feet shifting toward the entrance, "it's at the end of-" hand rising, cutting tomura's words off with a dismissive wave, "i can figure it out."

mouth filled with cotton, tomura's gaze piercing touya's shrouded figure as he descended into the darkness of the hall, setting his form aflame with a blazing stare as he watched the bold man bypass the restroom entirely. the echos of heavy boots against wooden stairs drifting in through the opened door of the living room, hitting tomura like a harsh gust of wind in a hail storm, inflaming his itchy skin.

"i wouldn't bother," keigo spoke curtly, "the time you spent in that dingy cell was not meant to be squandered on improving your skills, but reflecting on your failures," face contorting into that of disgust as he eyed tomura, venomous whispers slipping straight into tomura's ears, "you handed us your title on a silver platter," free hand moving to tomura's chin, "hey, look at me," ripping tomura's gaze away from the void hall, fiery rubies meeting a clouded sunset, eyes swirling in contempt, "face it, you're nothing now, tomura." through curled lips, tone almost melodic, head nodding toward his unfinished art piece, "get back to work."

jaw locked, clenching, teeth grazing against the inside of his cheek, skin burning with the need for friction, tomura resumed without a word. distaste sewing his features, stomach searing with acid, shredding from the inside, clawing up his throat as he worked, mind fogging. the needles of the tattoo gun narrowly increasing pressure into keigo's skin slightly more than necessary, movements swifter than usual, eyes glazing over as rage festered deep from within, brows tightly knit.

                               ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

muffled words were all you could make out over the static hum of a machine, your ear pushed flush against your bedroom door, straining as you noted the nearing presence, the man's heavy gait something foreign by sound alone.

eyes frantically darting around the area, feet scurrying to the safety of the soft area you'd built, kneeling between the plushies packed into the corner. a thin blanket draping over you, eyes peaking over the edge, searching for some sort of solace amidst the raging anxiety whirring in your chest, the creaking of your door revealing a daunting figure.

weighty steps inching closer, your feet pushing against the floor instinctively, shifting backward, attempting to maintain distance, mind tugging forward the deeply buried memories that overlapped with your current reality, throat clogging. touya's teeth almost twinkling beneath the moonlight spilling in through your curtains, your fearful nature only spurring the sinful urges bubbling within him.

fingers roughly tugging the blanket from your grasp, discarding it behind him, hand shifting to grip your chin, harshly raising your downturned gaze, "anyone ever tell you how cute you look on your knees?" query met with your silent glare, eyes slowly drifting to the object tucked snugly into his waistband, its silver handle offering a gleam.

touya's attention following with a chuckle, "ah, there's no need to be afraid," words slow, as if to infantilise. pulling the weapon from its sheath, crouching down to your level, pushing the nozzle against his temple, his finger hooking around the trigger, applying pressure, "bang!" whispered with a smile, cadence lax, mocking, "see, the safety's on."

the nozzle of the weapon a pointer, touya gesturing to the plushies surrounding you, "i like your collection," the click of the safety being flicked off ringing in your ears as the tip trailed down your cheek. eyes fluttering shut, strained as tears collected in them, horror engulfing you in a deep embrace, a ghost of a smile resting on touya's lips as he observed your shuddering being, resting the tip on your lower lip, dragging downward, parting, "they're almost as sweet as you are."

swallowing thickly, ripping your face from his vile grip with a shaky exhale, eyes trained on the swirls engrained in the wooden flooring, "w-where's tomura ?" voice low, endeavouring an authoritative sound, nerves failing you. "he's still busy, sweetheart," azure washing over your features like icy water, shivers trailing your skin in it's wake, "but, it's alright," finger hooking under your chin, sight linking "we can keep each other entertained in the meantime."

nausea fizzing within your stomach, his touch almost singeing your flesh, "so, why don't you tell me your name, hm ?" your lips tucked in a firm line as he spoke, silence wafting through the thick atmosphere, a gust of wind leaving touya's own with a sigh. "alright, then, do you live here alone ?" peace broken by his words, resuming as his query drifted, irritation pricking his skin at your reserved speech, your lips almost sewn, "not a talker, are you ?" exasperation laced thickly between the words, "do you want to tell me anything about yourself ?"

a shadow stretching across your bedroom floor, forcing your eyes to lift, hope blossoming in your chest, a rigid tone sounding, "this isn't the restroom, touya." the budding flames of exhilaration held within the man's orbs offering licks as tomura spoke, eyes raking over your features, savouring the minor details, memorising, "so it isn't," he whispered, amusement evident.

setting a small pat to your head as he joined the man in the doorway, "i see why you keep them locked up," setting a few knocks to tomura's chest with the firearm, smirk curling his lips as he turned. cyan shards piercing through your skin, insides cringing under the observation of the raven haired man, head cocking as he scanned your quivering form, "i'd want to keep them all to myself, too."

                               ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

silence floated throughout the halls, rigid body and racing mind lulled by the sweet nothings tomura whispered. your head nestling into his chest in a tight embrace, body rocking with uneven breaths, "shh," he hummed, setting soothing strokes over your back, his familiar scent offering tranquility "it's okay, we're all alone now," words gentle, fingers gently threading through your locks, "just you and me, yeah ?"

hands flattening against his chest, heat slowly seeping into your palms like a campfire as you gently pushed him away with a sniffle. tomura's hand moving to cup your soaked cheek, brows knit, shame fogging his orbs in a thick rouge mist as he thumbed away the tears, "w-who were they, tomura ?" exhales jagged.

rubies smoothing over your face, clumped lashes lining your glassy doe-eyes, rosy cheeks plump, tear stained, glossy lips forming a light pout. the angled rise and fall of your chest, the fuzzy cloud embracing your mind in a iron grip, the tremors in your delicate hands, all resultant due to tomura's feigned ignorance. his jaw clenching as rue dripped into his veins like an iv, the venomous drug coursing through his body, "they're colleagues of mine," he pushed.

vague words erupting a deep frustration within you, "colleagues that carry so casually, tomura ?" your words piercing thorns into his side, "well i can't exactly work a typical nine to five, kid," brows knitting, "i thought you were a freelancing tattoo artist, since when were guns added to the job description ?"

tomura slipping out a cavernous sigh, fingers sinking into niveous tufts as he took a perch on the bed, "it's complicated," the heels of his palms finding solitude in the dips of his eyes.

tomura's discomposed state setting a wave of contrition through you, settling beside him, your hand shifting to rest on his leg, "are they the reason why you...um ?" trailing off into a murmur, unable to string the words, ruing the question entirely, tomura's gaze lifting, replying before you could mend it, "went to jail ?" a sigh hanging heavy on his lips, "partially, yeah."

a beat of silence resting between you for a moment as you nodded, queries tumbling in your mind, "was it...um, scary ?" a soft chuckle leaving his lips at the naïve question, shrugging, "not really," his hand interlocking with yours, eyes linking, "if you know the right people."

fingers moving to your hair, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear, moving to cup your cheek as he turned to you, "im so sorry, kid," tomura's eyes raking over your face, sorrow swimming within them. "for tonight, it wasn't," a dry scoff, shaking his head, sighing, "it wasn't supposed to happen like that, but even then, i know them and i should've known it would've, it's-" speech quickening with each syllable, your hand settling over his own, warmth melding with his, the sincerity that carried his words something you were unaccustomed to, his sentences almost foreign. body lined with discomfort, aware of your burdensome nature as tomura expressed his view, the apology causing the rise of a sense of shame within you. heart clenching at just the thought of him feeling the need to do such a thing for you, "i-it's okay, tomura," cutting his ramble short, a soft smile tugging your features.

"it's not," he sternly refuted, brows furrowing at your swift mercy, "it's my fault, ____, i shouldn't have let them come, knowing who they are to their very core," his lips twisting in contempt for his own failures, keigo's rotten words burning in his mind as he spoke, "and to let them in despite it all," a dry laugh, "it was naïve of me, stupid and you...you didn't deserve to experience the brunt of my errors," his hand offering a squeeze, "im truly sorry, love."

lashes failing to withhold water, your tears resumed, a soft smile resting on your features at the firm argument. the ache engulfing you before his continuation dissipating as you let the words sink in. "i just..." a gentle hiccup of a breath, "i don't know what's going on in it's entirety but, i meant what i said earlier," inching closer, words matching the insistence of his own, "i trust you, tomura."

tomura could feel the gentle glow of warmth growing in his chest at your affirmation, his lips sealing the proclamation as they met yours in a sweet kiss. intertwined hands unlacing, shifting to your waist, guiding you atop his lap, knees bent on either side of his pelvis, your own disappearing into snow, fingers raking through icy strands, the locks just as silky as you presumed.

tomura viewed you as something of a painting, a timeless, priceless piece, highly sought after, something to be handled with the utmost fragility. the air that surrounded you, an artistic mix of expertly chosen colours, rare, scarce. the first form of portrait art, a being so captivating, alluring, serene that one had the overwhelming urge to capture it in the moment and seal it's divinity for all to indulge in forevermore. touya's rusty, battered, razored claws, his poison tipped words, piercing through the canvas with ease, scarring your skin. tomura's lips, his unyielding fervency, cementing the tares, sewing the canvas that is you, together again with his touch alone.

tomura deepening the kiss, earning a soft whimper, his tongue slipping into your mouth at the reaction, bodies heating at the mere touch of one another, suffocating passion encasing your very beings in a cage of fire.

the crimson threads of your individual strings looping, binding into a ropey tether as you indulged. soft moans exchanged like the words of an insightful conversation as your lips moved, hands canvassing each others bodies, memorising, sealing your fate amongst eager caresses and gentle giggles.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Halloween Honey [Emily x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@ancientsstudies) Center (@zendobx) Right (@iambrochella)

Prompt: Emily introduces the reader to the team at Derek’s townhome on Halloween night. After they get back to Emily’s apartment, they take their relationship to the next level. 

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

Category: Fluff/smut 

Word Count: 6.5K 

A/N: Content Warnings below the cut. This is an 18+ story. Minor’s DNI. Please respect that boundary. Good evening and Happy Halloween!!! I hope you are all having a fun and safe Halloween. This is the third installation of my informal Emily Prentiss x reader series. Parts I and II can be found (here) and (here).  I thought that it was about time that the reader got to know Emily’s friends, aka the BAU team. You could also read this as a stand-alone. The only background I think you need is that the reader is an intern for a senator. The title is based on Derek’s infamous line in the show. I hope you all like this and have a good night. If you do enjoy it, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love - Levi. 

P.S. The Latin is just a mistranslation of the rite of exorcism. It's Google translated, so it might be wrong.

Content Warnings: Sex (Emily and reader receiving [oral - Emily and fingering - reader]), the reader has some anxiety, a horror movie is watched/discussed (The Conjuring), brief mention of dead bodies, light drinking. If I missed any, please let me know. 

List with all stories

_y/n_ = you name 

_l/n_ = your last name 

_y/f/s_ = your favorite senator 

_f/j/t_ = your favorite jewel tone 

_y/f/s/t_ = your favorite shoe types - aka, heels, sneakers, creepers, loafers, etc. 

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color 

Emily and _y/n_ were cruising down the road. A Florence + The Machine Spotify playlist was on shuffle playing from the stereo. It was quiet for a moment, and Emily briefly looked over and took her eyes off the road to look at her partner. _y/n_ was twisting one of the rings on her left hand, looking at her fingers with an apparent, deep interest. Prentiss focused on the road again and asked, “_y/n_, what’s on your mind? You seem a bit preoccupied.” _y/n_ flushed slightly. She looked at Emily, who was softly illuminated by the lights on the dashboard. When Emily told her more about the actual science behind profiling. She particularly stated, “It’s nothing like NCIS or CSI. Though the team's cases might look interesting and sound exciting, the real thing’s no fun at all. It’s just stress and dead bodies..” _y/n_ had nodded along. She understood where Emily was coming from. _y/n_ often got the same response when she told anyone that she worked in politics. Someone was always bound to say, “Oh, so like Parks and Rec?” with an uninformed laugh. She normally didn’t correct them. It wasn’t worth the work. Thinking back to the conversation with Emily, she had asked, “So, are microexpressions real? Can you tell if someone’s lying or not?” Prentiss had thought for a moment, and replied, “Well microexpressions are real, and there is a science behind it, but I think they're exaggerated in the media. Those expressions are just there on the face for a millisecond. Unless it’s on film, people can’t really see them. There’s only one person I know who might be able to use microexpressions as a defense.” This had piqued _y/n_’s interest, and she asked, “Who is it?” Em laughed and said, “Aaron, our Unit Chief.” _y/n_ nodded along. She was slowly getting to know more about the team. Their names, of course, and smaller things like the normal roles they took in cases, and their personalities. Emily had promised that _y/n_ would like JJ and Garcia, and she was looking forward to meeting them. Emily had promised _y/n_ early on in their relationship that she wouldn’t profile her. But it didn’t take a profiler for Em to tell that _y/n_ was anxious about something. Finally, _y.n_ replied, “What if they don’t like me? The team? They sound so smart and talented. And if they’re anything like you, well then that just confirms it. I’m just boring old me, ya know.” 

Emily briefly turned to look at _y/n_ and took her right hand off the steering wheel. Em placed it on _y/n_’s hands, stilling the nervous tick of twisting the rings on her fingers. When _y/n_’s hands were calm, Emily moved her hand to _y/n_’s shoulder. She quickly checked the road before returning her gaze to her partner. The slightly worried look painted _y/n_’s face in the way her brows were pressed together and the tension in her lips. Prentiss let out the smallest of breaths and replied, “_y/n_, you’re wonderful and beautiful, and kind, and you’ve been so good to me. You’ve been patient and loving, and you understand when I’m stressed and need space.” When Em was sure _y/n_ was listening, she focused on the road but continued speaking. She said, “The team is going to love you. Penelope and JJ have been dying to meet you, and I know that you and Spencer could probably write a dozen books together. Yes, the people on the team are smart, but you are wickedly intelligent about the law and handling people. Getting them to listen to you. This isn’t a contest; I want you to get to know the other people in my life.” At Emily’s encouraging words, _y/n_ relaxed. She felt better after being hyped up by Em. “Thanks, Em. I needed that.” Emily smiled and said, “Anytime, love.” Emily could feel _y/n_’s gaze on her. She could feel _y/n_ beaming at her, and she felt slow warmth pool in her stomach and drip downwards. _y/n_ was a very affectionate person. She loved physical touch. Emily was less so, but they had started a few routines that met both their needs for touch. They would hold hands under the table at dinner, and as they walked down the street from various cafes, art museums, and curio shops, Emily would snake her arm around _y/n_’s back, holding her waist securely. 

It was only a few minutes later that they arrived outside Derek’s townhouse. Emily recognized Garcia’s and Spencer’s cars parked right out front. Emily parallel parked, and once her keys were out of the ignition, she turned to look at _y/n_. _y/n_’s eyes were shining in the darkness, and Prentiss couldn’t stop the grin that she gave_y/n_ as she said, “Come here you.” They both leaned forward over the center console and kissed. As their lips met, their breath on the other’s face made them flush. Their lips were a bit tacky as Emily was wearing matte red lipstick and _y/n_ was wearing a glossy black lip. The kiss turned a bit more passionate, and Emily threaded her hands through _y/n_’s hair. _y/n_ similarly put her hands around Emily’s neck. When they pulled apart for breath, they both could feel the sexual tension in the cab of the car. Emily cleared her throat and asked, “You ready to go in there?” _y/n_ smiled and said, “I am, but maybe you should look at your mouth first?” Emily looked at _y/n_ quizically before _y/n_ turned on the lights in the car and pulled down the visor with the mirror. Emily flushed when she realized that some of _y/n_’s lipstick had transferred to her mouth. Emily spluttered slightly and fished around in her purse. She found some tissues and removed the transferred gloss. In doing so, she took off a good bit of her own makeup. Prentiss looked in her bag to reapply her lipstick. When she didn’t find the tube, she softly said, “Shit.” She had left it on her vanity. When Em looked up, _y/n_ was extending her black gloss. Emily looked apprehensive, and _y/n_ said, “I think it’s either this or you take off all the lipstick. You know you look great in black Em, I’m sure some black lipstick will look incredibly hot on you. Plus, we can kiss that way and none of your friends will know.” Prentiss flushed at the compliment and the idea of her kissing _y/n_. She took the offered makeup. Before she put it on, she said, “See I told you you were smart, _y/n_.” Em booped _y/n_’s nose with her finger before she turned to the mirror. 

The couple reached Derek’s door, and Emily knocked twice. After a moment Morgan’s strong build opened the glass door, and he gave one of his best smiles to Emily and _y/n_. Morgan extended a hand to _y/n_ and said, “Hey, _y/n_. I’m Derek, Morgan.” _y/n_ smiled back and said, “_y/n_, _l/n_. I’m so happy to meet you.” Derek extended a hand and _y/n_ took it. The shake was firm, steady. Em had described Derek as the protector of the team. Rash sometimes in his desire for his friends to be safe. As _y/n_ stood in front of the man now, she could see how that might be true. Morgan moved back a step and said, “Please come on in. The gang’s all here. As they stepped into the nice space, Morgan gave Emily a side hug and one of those smiles that said, “I like her already.” As they moved through the hallway toward the living area, Morgan pointed out the kitchen and the guest bathroom to _y/n_, stating, “Please make yourself at home. Drinks are in the kitchen and if you need anything, just let me know.” _y/n_ nodded and thanked him for his hospitality. Of course, Prentiss knew where all of these things were, but Morgan was particularly about meeting new people and showing off his space. When Derek had first invited her over for a friendly dinner, she felt a bit awkward, but once she had gone, Prentiss realized that her friend was a natural host. Gifted at making people comfortable in his home. Now, whenever Morgan was hosting, she attempted to make it. Emily was happy that this was where _y/n_ was going to meet the team. 

As the trio moved into the living room, everyone that was seated stood. Penelope was up first, bridging the gap between herself, Emily, and _y/n_. Garcia extended a hand and said, “Oh my gosh, hi. I’m so happy to meet you!” _y/n_ smiled and said, “It’s lovely to meet you too… Penelope?” Garcia did a little happy dance and said, “Yes! How did you know?” As soon as the woman, wearing bright neon colors, with blond hair in pigtails had approached _y/n_, she knew who she was. Instead of saying any of that, she said, “Oh, you know, just my telepathic abilities.” This response made Garcia so happy that instead of offering a handshake, she said, “I’m sorry, but can I hug you? I think you may be my favorite person to ever exist.” _y/n_ lending into Garcia’s open arms and relaxed at her touch. In Garcia’s arms, _y/n_ felt warm and safe, and she made the observation that Penelope smelled distinctly of bubble gum. When they parted, Garcia ushed _y/n_ toward the others. JJ and _y/n_ shook hands and had a brief introduction. JJ looked over _y/n_ quickly. The Media Liaison realized exactly what Emily was talking about with _y/n_ being not only beautiful but also fully present. When JJ looked at _y/n_ there was no distraction, no wavering energy; she was fully focused on what JJ was saying. As someone who interacted with loads of people on a daily basis, having someone so centered felt like a breath of fresh air. JJ said, “It’s nice to finally meet you _y/n_. I can’t believe it’s been almost three months since Em met you in that dressing room. _y/n_ flushed at being reminded of how Emily and her met. It was still one of her favorite memories. Sometimes she forgot that JJ had been on the other end of Emily’s phone call when she had complimented Emily. The last introduction with Spencer was calm. Reid extended his hand and introduced himself. _y/n_ thought that maybe he was a bit shy. _y/n_ hoped to see more of his personality, and his smarts eventually. With how much Prentiss lauded his brain, she was excited to see it in action for herself. Everyone found a spot in the living room. Derek and Garcia were on the couch with Emily and _y/n_. JJ found herself on the loveseat adjacent to the couch and glass coffee table. JJ patted the spot next to her, but Reid opted to sit on the rug by her feet instead. Derek said, “Reid, what are you doing?” Spencer looked over to Derek and said, “I don’t want to be on eye level with the screen. If I sit on the couch, I’ll be looking directly at the movie, and you know I don’t like the possession or doll stuff.” Derek chuckled and said, “Well, suit yourself pretty boy. Also, how can you do this job and be afraid of a ghost or some dolls?” Spencer reddened and made some small protestation while the team ribbed him gently. It was all in good fun. The team had voted on three possible films: The Exorcist, The Conjuring, and Brahm’s The Boy. As everyone debated which film to watch, Emily went and grabbed her and _y/n_ some drinks. 

The group had decided on The Conjuring, and once everyone was settled in with a drink, they started the film. The first time Annabell came on screen, everyone laughed. The film progressed, and the Perron family got more scared in their new home _y/n_ relaxed a little and settled closer to Emily. Just as Emily had assured her, the other members of her team were kind and normal people. They laughed at the family's silly responses to the strange phenomena happening on screen. Once they were playing the clapping game in the movie, Spencer said, “The mom shouldn’t be playing this upstairs. With the wrong footing, she could easily fall off the second floor to the first. Did you know that around 1,000 people die from falls on staircases each year, and over 3,456 of all ages and abilities are injured on them annually.” After Reid finished this commentary, Penelope said, “They should hire you as a consultant for whenever the studio makes another cheap sequel.” This got a chuckle from everyone. Once the spirit of Bathsheeba showed up for the first time on top of the girl’s wardrobe, everyone jumped and then Derek said, “Baby girl, I think you need some lotion and to up your skincare routine.” This got a big laugh out of everyone. During the third shot where the camera rotated 180 degrees, _y/n_ added to the conversation, asking, “I know about the Dutch angle and eye level shots and all that jazz, but is there a term for this? It’s starting to get boring as a visual device honestly.” There was a moment of silence as the question lingered, but Spencer quickly said, “Well, I’m not sure if it’s a technical film term, but maybe something like an inverse shot or a flipped angle or something? That might be apropos here.” As the scene got more tense, _y/n_ very quietly replied to Spencer, saying, “That sounds about right.” When everyone got ready for the climax, Emily gently squeezed _y/n_’s hand and gave her a soft kiss on the temple. She whispered, “See. I told you you and Reid would get along swimmingly.” _y/n_ hummed slightly, squeezing Emily’s hand back. The film wrapped up and everyone got up and stretched a bit. Penelope, _y/n_, and JJ took turns in the bathroom. When _y/n_ exited the facilities, she found Emily and Derek trying to comfort the tech whiz. Although Spencer had said he didn’t like films with possession as a theme, it seemed that Penelope was the most affected of all of them. Derek was trying to take the compassionate approach saying, “Sweetness, it’s all just made up. None of it’s really real. They exaggerated and added scary music so you’d feel scared.” _y/n_ stopped herself from commenting on the real Warren family and their troubled history as paranormal investigators. JJ chimed in, “At least the movie ended happily Pen. There was a real hope for that family. Love won. It can’t be that scary if love won.” This seemed to help Garcia a bit. _y/n_ moved into the kitchen and got another drink. As she walked to stand next to Emily, she gave Garcia a pat on the arm. Penelope looked at her and smiled, saying, “Thank you _y/n_.”

Thinking about the inaccuracies of the film, she said, “You know that exorcism scene always bothers me. I know secular shows aren’t concerned about the actual ritual of an exorcism, but still, you could at least get the Latin right.” This comment had the rest of the party looking at her. _y/n_ flushed, and said, “I might have considered a divinity degree before political science consumed my life.” Everyone chuckled and Reid said, “You’re right. Ed says “‘Verte malum de inimicis meis; in veritate tua disperde illos.Omnenus: Sponte sacrificabo tibi,’ where it should be...” Before Spence could answer, _y/n_ replied, “‘In veritate tua disperde illos. Omnes: Sponte sacrificabo tibi.’ It’s not like the church and other religions have been performing those types of rituals for centuries or anything.” As she said this, Reid gave her a genuine smile and nod of recognition. With the topic on the table, Reid started running with it and began to ramble about how the ritual of expelling alleged dark forces had changed over the years. _y/n_ leaned into Emily gently, as she listened with keen attention. Again Emily was right. Dr. Reid was brimming with knowledge. _y/n_ hadn’t expected her girlfriend to lie or exaggerate about her friends, but when she had heard all the descriptions of the members at first it felt a little too impossible to believe. Once Spencer had finished his ‘brief’ history of exorcisms, Derek turned to _y/n_ and Prentiss. He said, “Alright Emily, you still haven’t explained fully how you met _y/n_. And JJ and Garcia are still talking about that first date. Every time I bring it up you say that you’ll tell me soon -- and I think it’s time to pay up.” Emily chuckled and said alright. I’ll tell you.” Prentiss detailed her first meeting with _y/n_ and then described their first date. _y/n_ would chime in with certain funny or cute moments,  and Morgan was eating up the story. After another hour or so, everyone decided to start heading out. _y/n_ said goodbye to everyone, giving hugs or handshakes. As she approached Garcia, Penelope said, “I’d love to go shopping with you sometime. Your style is so cool!” _y/n_ flushed and said, “I pinky promise. I’ll text you, and we can set something up.” Penelope nodded enthusiastically. Derek walked the couple to the door, he gave _y/n_ a side hug and said, “If you ever need anything, you just let me know, alright.” _y/n_ nodded. His sincerity was touching. She thought back again to what Em had said about him being protective, and she fully saw it now. _y/n_ replied, “Thank you, Derek. Thank you for having me over. It was a really great night.” Morgan beamed and said, “Well then, I can’t wait to have you over again.” Derek and Emily said their goodbyes and “See you Monday’s.” 

In the car on the way back to Emily’s apartment _y/n_ said, “Em, they’re all so sweet. So kind. I’m so happy to have met them. And I’d like to meet Aaron and Rossi too if I can sometime.” Emily smiled and said, “I’m glad you like them, and you had a good time. And believe me, Dave asks about you constantly and Aaron has too. I’m sure you’ll meet them when there’s time.” The pair drive back toward Emily’s side of the city. As they moved down the road Emily considered how they had gotten closer over the few months they had known each other. Emily was protective of her past. She had to be with what she had gone through. Revealing too much could make _y/n_ an unintentional target. But _y/n_ had been so open, so gentle with her that she couldn’t help but open up to _y/n_’s warm care and affection. They had become more physical around each other too. They had slept in the same bed many times now. Their bodies pressed close. And on one of those evenings, Emily had moved her hand beneath _y/n_’s linen shirt and brushed her fingers over the buds of _y/n_’s breasts. While she had done this, _y/n_ had stroked over her clothed sex with two fingers. As much as Emily had wanted to take it farther that night, they had both been exhausted. Emily had just returned from a long case, and _y/n_ had had a long night in the office trying to proofread a 500-page long bill from _y/f/s_. The passion was there, but not the energy. Em had promised _y/n_ that she wanted this -- desperately, but that she wanted to give her her all for the first time. _y/n_ had agreed. They rode back toward her apartment, and Emily thought of that first brief intimacy. She began to pool with desire again. She wondered if this was going to be the night that they would reach that stage in their relationship. While Emily thought this, _y/n_ couldn’t tear her eyes off of her partner. _y/n_ tried not to sexualize Emily often. She was too dignified for her to be drooled over. But now and then, Emily would look at her a certain way, or say something so profound that _y/n_ wanted to kiss her all over. To kiss every part of her body. A specific region, flushed and pink came to mind, and _y/n_ had to stifle a needy sigh. _y/n_ had always found Emily attractive, and the night that they had been most close replayed in her mind often. The feeling of Em’s hands, tender yet firm, moving over and teasing her breasts left her breathless and wanting if she thought about it for too long. Now as _y/n_ looked at Em, was one of those times. _y/n_ begged anything out there in the cosmos that they could have that and more tonight. 

As Emily and _y/n_ got into Prentiss’s apartment. There was an anticipatory, hungry feel to the air. Emily turned on some lamps in the living room. She had asked _y/n_ if she wanted to spend the night, as they drove back and _y/n_ had readily agreed. As Prentiss turned to ask _y/n_ what she wanted to do; if she wanted a drink of water, or anything in particular, she was almost shocked at what she saw. The look of pure desire on _y/n_’s face. _y/n_ closed the gap between them and noticed how Em cocked her head to the side almost confused by her want of her. When _y/n_ was flush with Emily, she pressed herself close to her girlfriend. _y/n_ stroked her hands through Emily’s dark hair. After a few seconds of this, _y/n_’s right hand rested on the crown of Emily’s skull and gently guided Emily’s mouth to hers. Emily easily, amicably acquiesced; allowing herself to be guided to _y/n_’s full lips. As their mouths met, Emily felt that pool of desire begins to flow downward again. It took all of her concentration to not moan at the close contact with _y/n_. Prentiss didn’t want to sound needy yet, but she felt that way. She longed for _y/n_’s touch in places yet unexplored. When _y/n_ ran her tongue over Emily’s lower lip, asking for control, she didn’t want to stop _y/n_ from having that access. As Em let  _y/n_ into her mouth, there was a mutual understanding of comfort and dynamics. Neither one of them was acting as a dominant or male persona. They were both just seeking comfort and pleasure in the other. When both Emily and _y/n pulled back for air, there was a moment of silence, of stillness. After a beat, _y/n_ said, Em. I need you, all of you, tonight. If you’ll let me?” Prentiss nodded and breathily said, “Oh God, yes, _y/n_. I was afraid I was moving too fast, and to hear you say that makes me feel so desired. You wanna go the bedroom, Baby?” _y/n_ agreed in a high pitch. Em took _y/n_’s hand. They moved slowly to the mauve-colored room. As they walked, there was a longing that they both let linger. After tonight, they would be joined in a way that would change the dynamic of their relationship from here on out, and they wanted to give space to that fact. 

In the bedroom, with the white door closed, _y/n_ turned to Emily. She was wearing a charcoal grey blouse that buttoned up the front. There was a bow that was tied at the collar. _y/n_ started by gently tugging the bow undone. She settled the strips of fabric that formed the extra edition of the collar behind Emily’s neck. She then moved to the buttons of the shirt. Slowly, with care and precision, _y/n_ began undoing the buttons of the silk shirt. As each inch of skin was revealed, _y/n_ reveled in its exposure. There was a reverence in her gaze that Emily had rarely seen. When Emily had been intimate before, there was always a hunger in the look of her lovers, male and female. A desire for pleasure. This was all fine and good, but the awe on _y/n_’s face was new. There was also a hunger, but not like she was a thing to be had, sucked dry and then left in the cold morning air uncovered. Thinking of this had Emily let you a sigh of desire. Emily’s head was slightly tipped back, her mouth half open, taking needy breaths. Through her half-lidded gaze, she saw _y/n_ smile at her noises. Emily wondered what _y/n_ moaning sounded like, and her sex pulsated at the idea. Her arousal intensified. When the last button was undone, _y/n_ pushed the silk off Emily’s shoulders and to the floor. The fabric fell to the floor with little sound. _y/n_’s gazed over her form. The lovely planes of Emily’s skin shone in the light of the lamps illuminating the room. _y/n_’s warm hands slowly started moving over the exposed flesh. Circling Emily’s stomach. She felt up the side of her waist. _y/n_’s hands then moved higher, ghosting over Em’s covered breasts. _y/n_ noticed that the bra was slightly padded and the underwire looked uncomfortable pressed too tightly under the sensitive tissue. _y/n_ would be sure to address this soon. But for now, she moved her hands to Emily’s clavicle, running over her collarbones. _y/n_ noticed that Emily had some birthmarks adorning her skin. One was above her right breast, and the other two were on Emily’s torso. After spending a bit of time feeling over Em’s upper half, _y/n_ softly fell to her knees and began working at the button and zipper of Prentiss’s black slacks. Emily watched as _y/n_ pulled down the fabric of her pants and realized that _y/n_ was kneeling at her body like it was a temple, and Prentiss thought she couldn’t possibly be loved more than this. When her pants were pooled at her feet, Emily moved her right foot up, and _y/n_ pulled her foot free. The process was repeated with the left foot. 

At this point, Emily had to reciprocate. She helped _y/n_ her feet and said, “You are so good to me. You have no idea how good you make me feel.” _y/n_ smiled and said, “I think I share in your feelings, but putting it to voice, especially now, feels a little difficult.” Em laughed softly at the comment, as her hands moved to the zipper at the back of _y/n_’s _f/j/t_ colored dress. The invisible zipper needed a bit of effort, and Emily carefully held the fabric at the top of the dress as she applied more pressure to get the zipper to move. The zipper was fine moving down the teeth until it got to the waistline, where the fabric was doubled. Here, even with her careful pulling the zipper didn’t seem to want to budge further, and it wasn’t because the dress didn’t fit _y/n_. It fit like a glove custom-made for her body. After another minute of struggle, _y/n_ burst out laughing and said, “Sorry. It’s so funny. I didn’t want to say anything because it was so sexy. You were taking my breath away, but as soon as you started doing that, I knew you were going to have trouble. You have to jimmy it a certain way to get it past the waistline.” Emily gave a little huff, and jokingly said, “Well you could have told me that before.” _y/n_ smiled and said, “Well, I have a potential solution from here on out?” Emily smiled and replied, “Shoot.” _y/n_ leaned forward and said, “We can be nude every time we meet from here on out?” Emily flushed and teased back, “How do you think the senator would like that? How about my boss?” _y/n_ gave Emily a large grin, and she said, “They don’t have to know.” While _y/n_ said this, they moved their hands to their back and Emily gave her space to work the ornery zipper past the difficult spot on the track. Once it was past the waistline, _y/n_ let Emily take charge again, and she quieted to let the moment have its full impact. Prentiss appreciated this, as she moved the zipper down the final six inches of track. As _y/n_ had done with her shirt, Emily removed the fabric of the dress, and _y/n_ moved out of its constraint at her ankles. Emily had taken her heels off when she had gotten in the door, but _y/n_ still had hers on. Thus, Em paralleled _y/n_ and dropped to her knees, and helped remove _y/n_’s _y/f/s/t_ and socks. The last article of clothing that needed to be disposed of to make _y/n_ as bear as Em was _y/n_’s tights. Prentiss took care of removing this thin layer of nylon. Prentiss didn’t want her short nails to snag the cloth and tear it. Once the tights were disposed of, the profiler moved and kissed over _y/n_’s clothed vagina. At the intimate act, _y/n_’s breath hitched, and she said Emily’s name with a need not yet voiced. 

_y/n_ pulled Emily up and to the bed. Both moved to remove the other's bra and their hands were a tangled mess, as they tried to both do the same thing at the same time. Again there was a soft laughter between them. Emily said, “If this happened to anyone else _y/n_ I would be so mortified. I would have lost my chill the second the zipper snagged. But with you, with your patience and calm and understanding it doesn’t feel like a big thing. I can honestly laugh with you. It reminds me of our first meeting, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life.” _y/n_ beamed and said, “You’re someone I want to be real with Em. I want to laugh with you and cry with you, and God do I want to have sex with you.” Hearing this, Prentiss flushed and then both of them moved again as they clasped behind the other's back to undo the other’s bras. As both women disrobed and looked at the other, the feeling of deep longing washed over them. Emily whispered, “You’re so beautiful _y/n_. So beautiful.” She leaned forward and kissed over _y/n_’s breasts. The warm, wet feel of Emily’s mouth over her sensitive flesh caused her nipples to harden. Emily took one of the taught buds in her mouth. She sucked and swirled her tongue over the nipple. _y/n_ let out a sigh, and her own hands moved to Emily’s chest. _y/n_ began kneading Em’s breasts. Without her bra on, the tissue was just slightly less perky than when trapped in the confines of a bra. Em’s nipples hardened too, and _y/n_ used her fingers to pull and tug at the sensitive areas of her body. Emily had to move her mouth away from _y/n_’s breast, so she could let out a gasp of pleasure. Hearing this from Em, _y/n_ moved her hand lower and began rubbing two fingers over her clothed sex. Emily’s panties were wet, soaked through, but _y/n_ hadn’t had the chance to notice, as they were black; hiding the level of Emily’s arousal. _y/n_ said, “Let me get you out of those…” _y/n_ was going to say underwear, but noticed the small VS charm on a tiny silver charm sitting at the center of the delicate bow at the middle of the elastic holding the garment up. Emily chuckled and said, “Hey listen they're comfy and sexy. Two birds one stone?” _y/n_ grinned and said, “There’s no complaints from me love.” _y/n_ leaned down and kissed the second bow, realizing that Emily had had a bow at her neck and a bow down here. Knowing how detail-oriented Em was, it wasn’t by accident. 

Emily was about to ask if she could get _y/n_ off first, but _y/n_ stopped her by saying, “Em, please. You’re out there every day saving people who don’t even know it. Who will never understand the things you sacrificed for them? So please let me do this for you first. After that, you can fuck me into tomorrow, but I want to do this.” Emily swallowed and nodded. With her consent, _y/n_ removed Emily’s panties, sliding them off of her hips and down her legs. The underwear was discarded on the floor with their other clothes. _y/n_ looked at the flushed folds of Emily’s vagina and the small patch of dark pubic hair near her entrance. _y/n_ couldn’t wait to get her hands and face in that hair, that needy region. _y/n_ wanted to ensure Emily’s comfort and pleasure and asked, “Would you like oral, or my hand, or I can use a toy you like if you have one?” Emily took deep breaths and said, “I want your mouth. I want those pretty lips of yours on me; in me.” _y/n_ hummed. Both she and Emily had washed off their makeup, so _y/n_ was ready to dive in. _y/n_ got on her knees on the bed. She also pulled Em’s knees up to a ninety-degree angle and a good distance apart so there would be room for her face. Before she started, _y/n_ said, “Tell me if it’s not good. Tell me if you need to change techniques at any time. And, please put your hands in my hair if it is good. I’ve dreamed of that for that last month and to have it happen for real is making me so hot and bothered right now.” Emily nodded and said, “I promise to do those things if I need to. But most certainly the last will be happening.” With this said, _y/n_ moved down. The heat and moisture was alluring to _y/n_. She started by running her nose up the area and wetting it. After this, _y/n_ ran her tongue over Emily’s folds. The taste was slightly salty, but there was a slight aftertaste of talc or matcha — a drying earthy taste. _y/n_ kept moving her tongue this way, and the words and noises came unbridled from Emily. After a few moments of this, _y/n_ started to move her tongue in an infinity symbol moving from the entrance to the clit with each pass. While this was happening, Em moaned out _y/n_’s name. When _y/n_ started sucking on the clit, Emily knew she was racing toward a strong climax. At this point, she ran her hand through _y/n_ hair, pulling and tugging it gently from the follicle. Her grasp strengthened as the feelings got more intense. In the end, Prentiss was moving her hips to increase the friction, and in a moment of pure ecstasy, she felt her body clench and then let go. Emily cried out in pleasure and held _y/n_’s face where it was, pressed to her sex. _y/n_ slowed her tongue slightly, to let Em down gently. As the waves of heat and joy moved through her in long waves, Emily was sure this was the best orgasm she had ever felt. 

Once Em had calmed and found herself again, she moved with a passion, getting up and looking at _y/n_. Emily said, “My turn. Let me, ‘fuck you into tomorrow’ like you just did with me. So tell me, what gets my girl off? I’ve got toys like a vibe or a strapon. What do you want, Baby?” _y/n_ very quickly flushed and said, “I just want your hands in me. I’ve dreamed about that too.” Em replied, “Well, well, you shall have them. Now grab that pillow and lay down for me _y/n_. _y/n_ did as told, and Emily positioned the pillow at her partner's lower back and then pushed her back onto the mattress. Prentiss took off _y/n_’s _y/f/c_ bikini-style panties and discarded them at the foot of the bed. Emily kissed _y/n_ passionately, as she started to rub _y/n_’s exposed vagina. Emily could feel _y/n_ dripping against her fingers. Sliding her fingers up and down _y/n_’s labia and clit was so easy. After a few moments of this, and when her pointer and middle fingers were thoroughly coated, Em moved her fingers slowly into _y/n’s entrance. _y/n_ was tight against her hand. At this sensation, _y/n_ gave a needy whine and Prentiss asked, “Is that good for my love?” _y/n_ gasped and replied between breaths, saying, “So good. You feel so good in me.” Emily smiled and said, “Good. I’m glad.” Emily started pumping in and out of _y/n_ while her other hand moved to _y/n_’s left breast. As _y/n_ said her name and moaned against her touch. Emily moved the fingers that were inside _y/n_ to curve up so that she reached _y/n_’s g-spot and _y/n_ made a loud, desperate noise. Hearing this, Emily moved the hand that had been on _y/n_’s breast to _y/n_’s clit and rubbed fast circles over it. _y/n_ could feel herself about to snap as Em’s movements became more frantic. The dripping of pleasure from _y/n_ had moved from a drip to water to an ocean waiting to burst free of a dam. With one more thrust of the hand and movement over the clit, _y/n_ broke down entirely, as she lost control and shouted out in pleasure. _y/n_ had never been so vocal in her response. After a second, Emily removed her hands and moved to kiss _y/n_’s mouth, taking the breath from her partner again. Em rubbed her sticky hand over _y/n_’s thigh. As they both came to themselves a bit, _y/n_ said, “I’m so lucky to have you in my life Em. To have met you the way I did. I love you so very much.” Emily nodded and said, “Same here. You make me feel so happy, and so good and worthy.” There was a silence and Prentiss noticed that neither of their bodies were ramping down, and Em asked, “Would you be down for a second round, _y/n_?” _y/n_ smiled and said, “I was waiting for that profiler instinct in you to notice. How about we come together this time?” Em smiled and nodded. As both women got ready for another set of pleasure and release, they both knew that they were meant for the other both physically and in spirit -- and there would be many more nights like this, bleeding into tomorrows. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow…

[daddywright]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY APOLLO JUSTICE 🥳 I'M GONNA WHUMP YOUR ASS LIKE IT'S 2013!

In all seriousness, to celebrate our favorite orange lawyer, I've decided to reward everyone who's commented on "it never rains" lately with such lovely words of encouragement with a big-ass excerpt for the latest installment of pressureverse. I hope you enjoy it!! It's been coming to this point for a long time, and it's finally here. To the star of the show, I can only say... it's gonna be rough, buddy. Happy birthday!

Read below for the excerpt!

Miles

"Phoenix."

Low, distracted humming pauses over the sound of a bubbling saucepan. "Hmm?"

"Is tonight a special occasion?"

A spate of blinking as Phoenix turns to look at him, cheeks vibrant from the steam. There's tiny red drops of tomato spattered onto his shirt, and the counter is a familiar mess of half-used ingredients. It's Friday evening, after all, and on weekdays that keep him at the office late, his arrival home tends to greet him with a hurricane coastline in the kitchen. Luckily, Trucy is absorbed watching television in the living room, or it would be a category event.

"Huh? Special?"

His mouth threatens a smile watching the cogs spin in his husband's eyes, seeking potentially overlooked data, and he edges close to gently tap the wine bottle in Phoenix's left hand.

"Given that you're no fan of reds, one can only assume you're intending to treat me. Unless, of course, your intent is to make pasta sauce with a two hundred dollar French vintage. Either way, I'm flattered."

"T- Two hundred dollars?" Phoenix wheezes, eyes bulging at the bottle in his hand. His own smile breaks at the confirmation of ignorance, and he swallows a small chuckle as Phoenix carefully places the wine onto the countertop like it's a loaded gun. "Why do we even have wine that expensive?"

"It was a gift from the Japanifornian ambassador of Borginia. I'm sure it's a fine vintage, though it may be wasted in a bolognese."

"Jeez," Phoenix mutters. Without warning or opposition, his head tilts to thump against Miles's shoulder. "Well, I’m glad I didn't open it yet. I would have drowned myself. Or bribed Trucy to help me cover up the crime."

"That seems somewhat drastic," Miles hums, absorbing the warmth of Phoenix's cheek through his dress shirt.

“Two hundred dollars,” Phoenix repeats, with fervor. Miles doesn’t voice the thought it might have been worth the entertainment of his panic, knowing it will earn him a night of mockery over his perspective on personal economics. Contrary to popular opinion, he does know how much basic items should cost at the supermarket.

“Anyways... how was work?”

“Nothing unusual,” he replies, as Phoenix straightens up to resume his food preparation. His mouth twitches, weary, as Phoenix reaches for a knife and begins to start chopping an onion, already skinned and halved on a nearby cutting board. “Though... Franziska called today.”

“Yeah? She wrap up that arms-trafficking case yet?”

“Of course,” he says, dismissive— as if it would pose an obstacle— and pauses. He listens for the sound of the television in the next room, blaring familiar orchestra, and continues. “She didn’t call to talk about her work.”

Phoenix’s chopping slows, but he doesn’t look up. “Yeah?”

His stomach prickles with apprehension. “She’s growing... impatient,” he says lowly. “As you can well imagine.”

Phoenix’s shoulders form a tense line. “...I can.”

He still doesn’t look Miles’s way, chopping slow and steady. Miles shifts his jaw.

“She was accommodating, acquiring those records for us last month. But she is not a woman who appreciates being left out of the loop. Especially when she has suspicions about its connection to her work on the taskforce.”

Suspicions with ample justification. The progress she’s made with Interpol in the last few years has been more than impressive— contract killers have been a particular bone in his sister’s jaw ever since the Engarde case, years ago, and hounding the shadowy trails of men like De Killer has driven her to remarkable success with a taskforce under Interpol’s umbrella. Olga Orly’s testimony before her conviction had drawn Franziska’s predatory eye, and Miles had welcomed it, given the threat that woman could have posed to his family.

However... Franziska hasn't been apprised of all they've uncovered, and capable as she is, she’s begun to suspect as much.

It's been a point of contention. For several weeks, in fact. But Phoenix is a stubborn man.

Miles watches him silently stir the sauce, and quietly readies his own stance.

The facts being what they are, he understands Phoenix's point of view. Whoever hired Orly to murder Zak Gramarye did so to keep him from sharing information about Thalassa. Since the trial, they've examined seemingly every angle of the incident that led to her supposed death— but in the months that’ve passed since, finding any leads has proven more difficult than it should have been. Even with Kay’s best efforts, it’s increasingly clear that information about Thalassa has been wiped clean from nearly every avenue of government documentation— a feat that shouldn’t seem possible, given the fame and notoriety that the Gramarye family achieved at the height of their success. It coincides, however, with what Orly had implied during the last moments of her trial— that the person who hired her was someone of extreme political or financial influence.

Someone desperately wants Thalassa to stay buried. They have no evidence to suggest who, or why. They haven’t even been able to verify that she is alive, as Zak claimed. All that’s certain is that the truth is something that a certain party is willing to kill over, and because it’s all they know— because they are grasping at straws against a shadowy danger, and have been for months— he has made concessions.

He had reluctantly agreed, when Phoenix first told him, that the truth about Thalassa should be kept secret from Trucy. Not because she needed to be shielded from the possibility, but because they knew her too well. Trucy wouldn't be able to resist searching for her mother on her own time, and that posed an unacceptable danger. Loath as he was to conceal such a critical thing from her, he and Phoenix agreed her safety was paramount, with themselves still so much in the dark.

As a result, he’s grown accustomed to dodging his daughter’s earshot, in recent months. He despises how habitual it has become. However, as of today, he’s determined his agreement to secrecy will no longer extend to their other loved ones.

“It's time," he says, to his husband’s stubborn back. “At this point, she’s going to be furious that we didn’t tell her what we discovered sooner.”

“Miles,” Phoenix says, and the unspoken slant to his voice— the we’ve talked about this layered within—makes Miles’s stomach clench with irritation. “... You know how I feel about this. It’s not—”

“Do you doubt my sister’s capabilities?” he interrupts, before he can hear the same justification he’s heard a dozen times before. “Do you consider her untrustworthy?”

“No,” Phoenix says pointedly, knife stilling, “you know I trust her, so don’t try to make it sound like—”

“We are making little headway on our own, and she is a talented investigator,” he presses, pride rankling. “I understood your hesitation, at first, but—”

“Hesitation?” Phoenix issues, voice edging on a hiss. “I’m not being hesitant, I’m thinking about safety here.”

“Franziska can look after herself. She is more than capable—”

Phoenix puts down the knife, hard enough to clack against the cutting board wood. “We still have no idea who we’re dealing with or how influential they are. Just because Franziska’s Interpol doesn't mean she's untouchable. Besides, the more people poking around into Thalassa, the more likely we are to tip them off!”

“We are less effective on our own,” he counters, voice flinty. “And if our investigation brings danger to our doorstep, we’re putting others at risk by keeping them in the dark.” And it speaks to the core of what’s been eating his conscience, for months on end— not just the deception, but the potential danger that comes with it. “The people we trust to ask for help— they deserve the facts as we know them.”

Phoenix is stiff, now, staring into the boiling pot of marinara sauce. Shoulders squared. Muscles bunched in his jaw. Miles hates it. Hates the tension and anger coiled in Phoenix’s body, hates that he erased the calm he found when he came home. But he isn’t willing to bend anymore.

“I can’t,” Phoenix grits out. “I can’t be— I can’t put them in danger, Miles.”

“I am not asking your permission,” he replies, cutting, and Phoenix’s nostrils flare. “Just because you hide the truth from your sister, doesn’t mean I will lie to mine.”

Phoenix’s head snaps his direction, and they finally meet eyes. “That’s not fair,” he says, oversharp. “Goddamn it, Miles. You think I like this?”

“I think you’ve confused silence for protection,” he argues, glacial, and when Phoenix visibly reels back, eyes alight with it, he strikes first. “And I am just as guilty. Because I have allowed you to do so.”

Phoenix’s open mouth stalls, face flickering. Miles feels his stomach roll under the emotion on his face, having spoken the realization he’s been turning over in his head for days. He knows— has always known— the kind of man that Phoenix is. And that kind is a fool.

A stubborn, reckless, determined fool. A stalwart of belief. A man who triumphed with his mastery of evidence, on their control and righteous reveal. A man who would work himself broken to help someone who needed it, and who would suffer every burden in silence, if he could manage it. Even if the cost was great. Even if his sacrifice was unnecessary.

Miles is guilty of the same mistake that others have made, when it comes to his fool. Guilty in assuming that because Phoenix is capable, it means he is right.

He is capable. So much so it has put stars in Miles’s eyes. But he can be blind, too, in that what others might consider selfish, Phoenix finds responsible.

“I have allowed you to carry this,” he says softly, “because I was willing to do what I thought you needed, after the trial.” For you to feel safe. So you didn’t feel powerless. “But I cannot call fighting on your own what you need.”

“I... I’m not on my own,” Phoenix says, former anger cut in half in his voice. I have you, it means, and affection sweeps warm and painful into his chest.

"No,” he agrees. “But they aren’t children, anymore. Franziska and Maya neither need nor want your protection, if it means you do not have their support. And the same goes for your proteges.” Slowly, he reaches out a hand. Phoenix hesitates, only to sigh and take it.

“Look at me.”

Phoenix does. Their fingers slowly tangle.

“They act in your footsteps. Do you want them to learn this habit? To feel too afraid to ask you for help, out of concern for your wellbeing?”

Phoenix stares at him, hand warm in his, and closes his eyes. “...Damn it,” he whispers. His expression fractures. “...I hate when you’re this right, Miles.”

“You hate when you are wrong,” Miles corrects bluntly. “But that is something we both can be forgiven for, on occasion.”

“M’sorry.” Phoenix’s fingers tighten around his hand. “I— I shouldn’t have made you choose. Between me and Franzi.”

“It was not a choice. It was a strategic delay. I was always going to inform her.”

A humorless huff. “Okay, sure. But you waited. Because I asked you to.”

“Yes.” It’s unnecessary, to say what he meant by doing so, but Phoenix’s fingers squeeze around his regardless.

“I know I’ve been... paranoid, lately,” Phoenix admits, face shadowed with regret. “I— It just feels like. I don’t know. Like if I take a breath, then—”

Miles’s chest cramps. Phoenix hasn’t taken on a client himself since the trial, too focused on supervising Justice and Cykes and spending the rest of his time following leads on Thalassa. He’s noticed certain habits worsen. More often, his husband’s hand seeks the inside of his coat when they leave the house. More often, he wakes to find their bed empty. And it’s just one more reason why he resolved himself to tell the truth to Franziska.

They need to resolve this as quickly as possible. Not just for Trucy’s sake, or to catch a murderer, but because he’s reached his own limit. For dead-end leads, for withheld truths, and for the dark circles that have made a permanent home beneath Phoenix’s eyes.

"We will keep doing what we can,” he says. “But now, we will have more help.”

“I’ll call Maya tomorrow morning,” Phoenix says, sighing. “She’s gonna rip my head off.” Miles says nothing, because it is true. “I hate making her worry, Miles. Especially with all this tension going on between her and the Khura’inese envoys...”

“If you do not inform her, Franziska will beat you to it,” Miles says, to curb any chance of cowardice, and Phoenix grimaces.

“Ugh.”

With Phoenix on the ropes, he maintains momentum. “And your juniors?”

Phoenix shifts uneasily. “I... don’t know. Athena’s still adjusting and I can tell something’s... bothering her, right now. And if I tell Apollo, he’ll have a meltdown, and Trucy will be able to guess we’re all keeping something from her. It’s bad enough just we are. I want her to have them to turn to, if the worst happens and she’s...”

Heartbroken, he doesn’t say, and Miles feels the guilt of it lance across his stomach. “You have a point,” he admits, unhappily. They are, the lot of them, remarkable in their abilities, but even the single day he spent with the capability to sense falsehoods had proven overwhelming. There was a time in his youth that he wished more than anything that he was better at understanding and relating to other people. But the older he becomes, the more he realizes his own challenges are far more preferable to the burden of understanding too much.

“But if the time comes,” he begins, the memory of Apollo Justice awkwardly wrapped in Phoenix’s arms blooming in his mind, “don’t discount their—”

“Shit,” Phoenix yelps, and Miles blinks to the distinct smell of burning. “The sauce, oh my God, I forgot to stir it—”

“Daddy.” Trucy’s voice comes, worried, from the living room, and Miles watches Phoenix fumble with the gas, muttering curses.

“Yeah, sweetie, I’ve got it, nothing’s ruined—”

“Daddy,” Trucy says again, but there’s no relief in it. “Papa. I think you need to see this.”

They both frown, glancing at one another. Phoenix shuts off the stove, and they abandon the kitchen for the living room, the sound of a newscast filling Miles’s ears as they draw close.

“Truce?”

"Daddy,” Trucy says, turning from the TV. Her face is pale, ringing alarm bells in his mind. “Something bad happened downtown. I saw people talking about it online and turned on the news and...”

Miles turns to the television, the reporter’s voice increasing as Trucy dials up the volume. A reporter, standing in front of what looks like the GYAXA center downtown, above the headline at the bottom of the screen—

TRAGEDY AT COSMOS SPACE CENTER.

“...Coming to you live from the scene, we have the latest report from investigators about the terrible tragedy that took place at GYAXA mission control, moments before the long-anticipated launch of the HAT-2 space missile.”

Trucy gasps, and Phoenix draws in a quick, horrified breath. The name is familiar but Miles can’t immediately place it, attention locked onto the screen.

“Early this morning, authorities were notified that two devastating explosions had rocked the facility. The base is under lockdown after emergency responders were cleared to enter to rescue staff members on site. Currently, LAPD can neither confirm or deny that the fallout was a result of catastrophic failure or criminal act, but sources say that there has, in fact, been an arrest made. Though we are still waiting for final confirmation, we can report there has been one confirmed casualty.”

“Please,” Trucy whispers.

“GYAXA Director Yuri Cosmos released a statement moments ago, confirming the identity of the staff member lost to this tragedy.”

The screen flickers, and an older man stands at a podium draped in the GYAXA flag. His stern, aged face is layered with grief.

“It is with deep sorrow and regret that I must announce the tragic loss of one of our brightest and most talented young pilots. It is our hope that the authorities can get to the bottom of this senseless tragedy, so that we can honor the life he lived, and acknowledge his contribution to humanity’s dream of transforming the next frontier. My condolences go out to the friends and family of one of our best, taken too soon. GYAXA Flight Engineer Clay Terran... may the stars welcome you home.”

“No,” Trucy croaks, a horrible sound of denial. “No.”

Horrorstruck, he watches the portrait fill the frame. A young, familiar face, smiling into the camera, holding a helmet in hand. A face he’s seen at Christmases, birthdays, and graduations. A face he’s seen grinning at his child, making her squeal as he swung her around, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Oh, God,” Phoenix whispers, and he turns to see grief, decimating his husband’s face.

Sobs break into his ears, Trucy covering her eyes and crumpling in on herself. Miles watches, paralyzed, as Phoenix moves robotically to her side. She grasps fingers in his shirt, weeping.

“Daddy. What—what do we do?”

Miles’s heart closes shut. Phoenix’s face breaks, stroking their daughter’s hair.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, voice cracking. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry—”

“How do we tell him? What do we do?”

Trucy looks up, and her face cuts a wound in Miles’s chest.

“Polly,” she says, and beneath her grief is a horrible desperation. “We have to go get him, Daddy. Polly.”

Watching this new pain dawn on Phoenix’s face, Miles feels his heart break cleanly in two.

xXXx

Phoenix

He knocks, then lets himself in.

He pockets the spare key by the door, quietly leaving his shoes near the shoe rack. He pads barefoot over linoleum, and there’s a mew as Mikeko chirrups quietly at his arrival, weaving around his ankles as he moves through the living room.

The apartment is dim and quiet. No lights, the last of the blue hour soaking into night. In the living room, the TV flickers over the news. It’s the same channel he last saw, with images of flames burning over Cosmos, and the reporters’ mouths move in muted silence. His heart climbs and calcifies in his throat.

He keeps going. Passing the hallway, drifting into the kitchen where Mikeko trots ahead of him.

He steps inside, and finds the cat curled at the feet of his owner. Apollo stands in the kitchen, barefooted. His back turned, hair curled damp on his neck from a recent shower.

He’s staring at the sink. Doesn't turn at the sound of footsteps.

Phoenix swallows. “Hey,” he says. Soft and low so there's no chance of surprise, in case his entrance wasn't heard.

Apollo doesn’t respond. In the silence, he can say nothing. He stares at Apollo’s back, throat closing shut.

That sweatshirt’s too big for him, he thinks faintly. Makes him look small.

Slowly, in heavy heartbeats, he watches Apollo take in a breath. Straighten his shoulders.

“I was going to meet you there.”

The sound of his voice makes Phoenix’s stomach sink.

Level. Steady. Completely untouched.

Oh, kid. He sucks in a breath, and he lets it go. “...Meet me where?” he asks.

“The station.” Calm. Too calm. “They arrested someone.”

His heart clenches, and then he understands. God, he does.

“Apollo,” he says, the whole name, and Apollo finally turns.

“I need to see them.”

Apollo's face is colorless. Empty. His gaze is unfocused, and in the dim light, his eyes seem—

Red. Mercury red.

“I need to see them,” he repeats, voice hollow. “Whoever they are. I need to know.”

Phoenix lurches a step forward. “Kid—”

“I need to know why. They'll tell me. If I see them, I can find out. Even if they don't want me to.”

His irises burn and burn. Unblinking, molten. Dread sparks in Phoenix’s stomach, almost afraid. Afraid that what's come over him is something Apollo doesn't have control of. Rattled, he finds himself stepping forward, intent to eliminate the distance between them—

Unfocused eyes find him and sharpen, sending a jolt through his heart. Their color drains to muddy brown, and Phoenix stills, breath caught in his throat.

“I—” Apollo blinks. The invisible wall on his face shudders, then holds. “I'll get my keys.”

He moves, walking past him, expression blank. Without a second thought, Phoenix reaches out a hand. The moment he makes contact, Apollo flinches away.

“Apollo—”

“Don't.”

His heart twists. “You know they won't let you in,” he says, trying for reason first. “Tomorrow, maybe—”

“I'm not waiting.” He opens his mouth, but Apollo cuts him down, words coming faster, “He'll lawyer up soon, and then my chance to see him will be gone. I need to—”

“You'll have a chance,” he counters, soothing. “I promise. But the cops won't let anyone in right now, so—”

“Then I'll go find someone who will talk,” Apollo snaps. Finally there's emotion on his face, and it’s fury. “Someone— anyone who knows something. Who they are, how they did it, when, why—” A schism, steamrolled over, “Someone at GYAXA has to know. I'll find out who and then I'll—”

“Do what?” he asks softly. Apollo freezes, face rigid, staring at him with that perilous nothing threatening the edge of his expression. “Pollo...”

“Why are you trying to stop me?” Apollo demands, with sudden volume that’s like a slap to the face. “Are you really gonna tell me that I should hand this off to someone else?”

“No, but I—”

“You’re such a hypocrite.” The word’s spat out of Apollo’s mouth like it’s been poised there a long time. “Like you’d do anything different. You wouldn’t hesitate. Don’t try to tell me to stay put like some stupid kid when I can do something—”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t,” Phoenix tries, strained. Apollo’s been angry with him before, but not like this, and it’s like the ground shifting under his feet. “I’m just saying to— to take a second, take a—”

“I can’t!” Apollo cries, his frayed voice shattering the dark kitchen, and Phoenix has nothing to say. To offer him.

There’s nothing that will fix this. That’ll make the pain any less.

“...I know.”

“Shut up.” His expression trembles, anger splintering. “You don't.”

“Pollo—”

“You don't know anything,” Apollo croaks. “You always act like you do. Like you know everything, like you know me. But you don't.”

His stomach twists like he's been punched. Apollo has always been private about himself, since the day they met. And he's never pried. He thought it would only push the kid away. He isn't the first person Phoenix has drawn close through a few walls.

But maybe he should've tried knocking.

“I'm sorry,” he says. Apollo’s eyes widen, taking shine, and his face cracks.

“Shut up.”

“I'm sorry.” He steps forward, and Apollo’s body tenses as if to run.

“Stop.” Desperate. “Stop it.”

“I'm so sorry, kid,” he whispers, voice thick. He reaches out again, with both hands, gently grasping slim shoulders.

“You don't know anything,” Apollo says, voice fracturing. He leans away, shoulders jerking from Phoenix’s touch, but his feet are rooted to the ground. “Don't— don't touch me, you're not my—”

“Trucy told me to come get you.” At her name, Apollo stills, his protests disappearing. If Apollo can't accept him, there is someone else who he’ll always permit. “She wanted me to make sure you were okay.”

Silently, tears well in Apollo’s eyes.

“I... I don't want her to see,” he whispers.

And Phoenix understands.

Is he the same age that I was? Did I look this young, too?

“It's okay,” he says, voice thin. “She just doesn't want you to be alone.”

Tears slide down Apollo’s face. “... I was,” he says. “Before. Without him. With— without him, I—”

A strangled noise, an awful hiccup of a sound like he can't breathe. And his face breaks apart into something so frightened that Phoenix can't bear another frozen moment.

Gently, he takes Apollo in his arms and drags him close. Resistant hands push at his shoulders, knocking weak fists against his arms.

“No. No, no. Please.”

Gasping sobs. The hands that push him away turn to claws, digging into his shirt.

“I can't. I can't, I can't.”

He holds him when his knees fail, supporting every scrap of his weight.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers, again and again. “I know.”

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Is there any wr Chris Drabble that you can and want to share maybe perhaps

🙏🙏🙏🙏😭 * not in a pressuring way but in a I love this installment and can’t get enough way* feel free to ignore if not!

you know what??? sure! this is a fluffy one that i haven't had a reason to post, so i'll use this ask for that skdjfhskjdf

just fyi i've got a couple horny ones in the works, but they're still not complete 😭 so this is all i can offer for now. hope you enjoy~

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series. you don’t really need to read any other instalment to understand/enjoy this piece). | Word Count: ~1k | Themes & Warnings: fantasy/supernatural AU · fluff | established relationship | descriptors of the reader such as: being chubby · pet names · a bit suggestive, but it’s fairly tame · this is barely proof-read, so please bear with me

minors do not interact.

> Chris💕🐺: hey pretty > i know we said we were gonna go on a date tonight > but i dont think ill make it baby im sorry :(

< You: aw 🥺 < it’s ok darling < we can go out some other time

> Chris💕🐺: ill make it up to u > i promise

It wasn’t uncommon for your boyfriend to come home late at night. He’d always come through the door complaining about how they were behind on their sprint, or how one of his co-workers deleted hours worth of coding in a single click, or how the entire platform he worked on crashed and they needed to spend overtime fixing it… It worried you sometimes, but it’d become such a natural occurrence at this point it didn’t faze you anymore.

You felt like Chris didn’t even need to promise to make it up to you, you knew he would anyway, but you figured he always felt the need to set his words in stone. Sometimes he’d make it up to you the very next day, sometimes it took him weeks, but he always did, which you appreciated immensely.

By ten in the evening you just knew Chris wouldn’t be home before midnight. He always told you to not wait up for him, that you needed to rest, too. But you found it incredibly hard to fall asleep comfortably when he wasn’t there, so you’d either toss and turn for hours, or you’d drift in and out of sleep until he made it to your bed.

You vaguely registered the front door of your flat opening and closing, just like you vaguely registered the muffled sounds of your boyfriend’s steps around your home until you started to hear the shower. Stretching your limbs a bit, a tiny squeak left your mouth, and you reached for your phone to check the time.

One thirty in the morning.

With a sigh, you locked your phone again and turned to lay on your other side, bringing one of the extra pillows between your thighs for comfort.

You laid there for a while, waiting, until you heard the shower stop completely. You honestly expected your boyfriend to open the door to your bedroom right then, but instead, all you heard was silence. In normal circumstances, you would’ve let it go and gone back to sleep, but as it was, you really wanted to see him, so you got out of your shared bed, rubbing sleep from your eye with your fist as you opened the door and left the room.

Only the small lights on the kitchen were on, but they provided enough illumination to see Chris. He was sitting on the sofa, with his elbows on his thighs and his hands buried in his hair.

As soon as you walked closer, he looked up. With a small smile on his lips he gave you a “Why are you up?”

You yawned, shrugging.

“Sorry I woke you up, pretty”, Chris mumbled, taking a hold of your hand as soon as you were in front of him.

Shaking your head, you placed your free hand on Chris’ shoulder, pushing him just enough to lay back on the sofa so you could straddle him and comfortably settle on his lap. With his arms around your waist, he pulled you flush against him, just as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, mumbling a very sleepy ‘S’okay’ against his skin.

Burying one of your hands in his damp hair, you gently massaged his scalp while bringing an arm to rest on his shoulders so you could pull him close to you as well. Chris hummed, and you felt him relax under the soothing motions of your hand.

Over the years, you’d come to read your boyfriend’s body language quite well–or at least you liked to think so. When he was quiet like this, you could tell something was weighing heavy on his mind, so you’d made it a habit to ask. “Wanna talk about your day?”

Chris remained quiet for a moment, but he still moved his arms from around your waist to bring a hand under your shirt and rest it on the small of your back, while the other cradled the back of your head. After a few moments, he just shook his head, and you hummed in understanding.

You both stayed there like that, quietly enjoying your warmth for a while. Until you finally pulled away from his neck and cradled his face in your hands. Chris just leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and heaving a sigh.

He was clearly refreshed from his shower, but you could still see the bags under his eyes, and the small frown on his face. You knew it wasn’t directed at you–or at least you hoped so–it surely had to do with whatever happened at work, so your first instinct was to lean in and press a kiss right where his eyebrows furrowed.

A small smile spread on his face, and his frown seemed to have disappeared when you finally pulled back. With a smile of your own, you leaned in again to press a kiss on his forehead. Then his nose, each cheek, and finally, his lips. 

Chris’ lips moulded to yours, kissing you slowly, holding you even closer to him. He was so warm, and the feeling of his fingers caressing your lower back and the ones burying in your hair to angle your head to the side the tiniest bit was quickly igniting the flame of need deep within yourself.

After a few moments of kissing, you rolled your hips. You couldn’t help it, he was right there, touching you, existing, and your body just naturally reacted to him.

Chris tensed with the movement, and he immediately brought his hands to your hips to still your movement.

“Baby…” Chris pulled away from your lips with a sigh, an incredibly tired sigh. “I’m–I’m not…”

It was rare for Chris to not be in the mood for sex, but it did happen every once in a while, usually when he was not only incredibly exhausted, but also worried about something. So you simply smiled at him, dragging your thumbs over his cheeks as if to soothe him. “It’s okay, baby”. 

Chris sighed again, looking you in the eyes. His eyebrows were drawn together once again. “I’m sorry, pretty. I’ll make it up to–”

“Baby”, you interrupted him and squished his cheeks, forcing his lip into a pout. “It’s fine. You don’t have to make anything up to me”. 

“But–” 

“I’m serious”, you pecked his lips, and offered him a smile after. “Don’t go all toxic alpha on me now, hm? It’s literally fine, babe”. 

Chris chuckled, and he pulled you down for a brief kiss. “I love you”. 

“Love you, too”, you replied simply, relishing the way Chris’ body relaxed under you again. “Now… Sleep?”

Chris looked at you for a moment, mulling your words, until he eventually spoke. “I’d like to… kiss some more…” 

You leaned in, not quite pressing your lips to his yet, but close enough so every word made your lips brush against his. “How much more?” 

Chris held you tighter. “A lot more”. 

So you hummed, right as you finally connected your mouths in a deep kiss.

This was one of Chris’ moods sometimes. He’d just want to hold you, kiss you, rile you up with no real prospect of sex. And you’d lie if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

His plush lips against yours, his teeth tugging your flesh, his tongue brushing yours… Chris was an amazing kisser, and you could honestly spend hours just doing this. Hours of his hands roaming your back, of the satisfied hums and moans spilling from his mouth, of the wet sounds your motions produced. 

Of course it made you horny, of course it made him horny… You could feel his hardness under you, enticing you, but being honest, kissing felt just as satisfying regardless. You liked that you could have these moments with your boyfriend, where you could somewhat keep things intimate, but rather chaste–as much as french kissing a werewolf could be considered chaste…

“God, I missed you so much”, Chris mumbled, digging his fingers on the soft flesh of your waist, under your tee. 

“Me too, baby”, you mumbled back, barely even disconnecting your lips from his.

You couldn’t really tell how long you spent there, sitting on his lap and ravishing his mouth, but eventually, he pulled back, looking you in the eyes as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ears. 

His pupils were so deliciously blown, his lips all pink and plump, slick with your spit, and you were sure there was wetness making contact with your core, even with the thin fabric of his sleeping shorts separating your bodies.

“You’re so pretty”, Chris wrapped an arm around your waist, and he cupped your cheek with his free hand. “So pretty and mine. My pretty girlfriend…”

You chuckled, looking at his droopy eyes. “So are you, darling”. 

“Mmm…” Chris leaned in again, kissing you briefly. 

When he pulled back, you placed your hands on his bare shoulders. “Sleep?” 

Chris nodded. “Sleep. Hold on tight, baby”. 

As soon as you looped your arms around his neck, and with a firm hold on your thighs, Chris stood up from the sofa, taking you with him and walking languid steps to your bedroom, switching the kitchen lights off on the way. 

As soon as he stepped into your room, Chris gently placed you on your feet so you could take the few steps left to the bed.

He placed a quick kiss on your cheek once you were both tucked under the covers. He pulled you close to his body and laid his head on your chest, letting out a sigh of relief once you buried your fingers in his hair and started massaging his scalp.

It was silent for a while, until you started to hear–and feel–the barely audible rumble coming from your boyfriend’s chest. It brought a smile to your face, and, soon enough, you fell asleep as well.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

tagging everyone that wants to be tagged in my wereroomies instalments. if you don’t want to be tagged in little ask responses like these let me know ! If you want to be added to the tag list, you can fill in this form. be aware that you must have an indication that you’re an adult in your blog if you want me to tag you in my works

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