#i do really like the idea of them mirroring the emilys and i KNOW this barely changes shit but

[bravevolunteer]

VERSE — MOVIE ( CONTAINS SPOILERS & CANON DIVERGENT, tw for canon-typical themes & suicide mention )

just to get straight to the point : it's mainly canon divergent in the sense that i will be altering details in order to make mike an afton. do i think this is going to happen in the movie timeline? no. do i think it's more likely that they're going to explain the oddly personal kidnapping through mirroring the emilys? probably. but it's MY michael afton blog and i can put on my tinfoil hat as much as i want about it. of course i am willing to adapt based on other's info / preferences but given that this isn't my main canon anyway it is meant for those that are interested.

Mike thought he knew everything there was to know about what happened to his family: what he was never told is who his real father was. He was too young to remember anything about William Afton before his mom separated herself from him entirely ( one night stand, breakup, what have you, i'm not picky- ), so he always thought of the father he grew up with as his dad, the reality never changed anything about that.

Until he was twelve years old and Garrett went missing, and everything fell apart. William followed the Schmidts there, taking Garrett in a targeted attack ( whether or not he was trying to grab Mike, took him out of spite, anything else is also flexible ). Everything grew solemn and tense, each of the Schmidts lost in their own individual grief. Slowly, they stopped having dinners together, stopped going out as a family, stopped being able to feel like things were normal. The grief and guilt only added to Mike's developing anger issues and depression. Although it wasn't on purpose nor with any malicious intent, his dad was the more distant of his parents at the time, serving as the first hint towards his biological parentage and simply because as much as he cared for mike, he was grappling with losing his biological kid ( think tse henry- well meaning but drowning in grief enough for the child to pick up on it ).

This is where Abby comes in, where the Schmidts have another kid in an attempt to feel like a normal family again. It almost seems to work, although there is still that underlying sense of collective grief. Mike was older by then, too ( while he graduates high school, he either doesn't go to college at all or doesn't finish it ).

Their mom dies and the brief sense of possible stability disappears again. It's when Mike is staying at home again for the funeral/to help with Abby that their father commits suicide, unable to take the grief. Mike has had custody of Abby since then.

The events proceed as they did in the movie, William's recognition of Mike in the office not only stemming from the kidnapping but the fact that it's his kid, although Mike doesn't find anything out beyond the fact that it's the man who took Garrett. There is potential for more hints towards this in past interactions with his aunt or birth records or even his dynamic with Vanessa, but for the most part this specific realization is left open.

Following the movie's events, he... does come home to his aunt in the living room. After reporting her death, Mike actually goes back to Freddy's one more time to get security footage in order to prove his innocence. Afterwards, he does his best to hold down another job to keep taking care of Abby in peace, but something about Freddy's gives him the sense that he'll come back to make sure nothing like this happens again.

[luveline]

I love bombshell reader. Would she ever get jealous?

Your eye is most definitely twitching. The pull and cinch of your lashes and the delicate skin of your eyelid distracts you mildly from the sight in front of you, but not for long. 

You rub at your eye with a perfectly filed nail, smudging intricate makeup all over the place. You remember your mascara only after you've mussed it and groan in annoyance. "Fucking fuck," you murmur, slipping a hand into your jacket pocket. 

"You okay?" Emily asks. 

Using your phone screen as a substandard mirror, you clean up the smudge you'd made of your make up with your pinky finger carefully. "I'm great," you say breezily. 

"You sure? You sound stressed." 

"She's jealous," Morgan says. Smugness lines his face and the otherwise handsome set of his mouth. 

You roll your eyes at him, to his bemusement, and sit back in your cold, leather-backed chair. "Sure, Morgan, I'm very jealous. Of what?" 

"Of our baby boy's new friend, obviously," he says. 

You don't give him the satisfaction of looking back at Spencer where he stands at the bar, nor do you let the practised smile you're wearing falter. Your guts an aching wound and your skin flushed with heat, you reach for the cherry coasting along the surface of your drink and pull it out by the stem, twisting it between your fingers. Unbothered on the outside, and an insecure, hurt mess on the inside. 

It really looked like Spencer was flirting with her. 

You chew your cherry for much longer than you need to for want of something to do, hot tears begging to well behind your eyes. Spencer isn't your boyfriend, you've held hands a couple times and that's that. He's allowed to want someone else. Someone prettier, smaller, she'd had a head of perfect braids and a dewy, do eyed smile. Cherry swallowed, you knock back your drink. 

"Sorry," Spencer starts, sliding into the booth next to you with another cherry sour for you and what looks like an ice cold glass of coke for himself.

You hadn't asked him for a drink and he hadn't mentioned getting you one. For a moment, the ugly weight of envy lifts from your shoulders. "Oh, thank you." 

"I just met this girl at the bar and she had something very interesting to ask me," Spencer says. 

You don't want to hear it. Morgan absolutely does, and with Emily to encourage him, they're happy happy torture you both. "Why's Penelope taking so long?" you ask, trying to change the subject too late. 

"What did she want, loverboy?" Morgan asks.

"Did you think she was pretty?" Spencer asks you.

Mortified, you stare at him. Plainly hurt, to his surprise, you clasp your hands together tightly in your lap. "Why would you ask me that?" 

"Because she wants to ask you out?" Spencer's knee bumps yours. "She thinks you're, quote, intimidatingly pretty." 

Emily and Morgan laugh together gleefully. You're glad this is entertaining for them, but mostly you're relieved. You pick up your drink and take a sip, looking over Spencer's shoulder into the bar for the girl he'd been speaking with. She smiles shyly. 

"I'm assuming this is from her?" 

"What? No, that's from me." 

Your gaze flickers back to him. "Really?" 

"That's my boy," Morgan jokes, swinging his arm behind Emily's seat. She laughs approvingly. 

Firmly back on stable footing, you give Spencer your stickiest grin, looking over his pretty face greedily. He's looking at your drinks rather than you but his torso is turned your way, the backs of his fingers brushing your stocking clad thigh. "Maybe I should go let her down gently?" you murmur, shifting in your seat to turn his way too, flirting with the idea of touching his cheek. 

"You might not need to," he says. 

"How come?" you ask. 

"Well, I… I sort of implied you were taken. You know. With the drink. And I also might've said you weren't interested." 

"Yeah?" You put your hand on his shoulder, tracing a whisper of a path up the slope of it to the base of his throat. "Well, it's a good thing I'm not." 

Emily shakes the small bowl of roasted peanuts, a deviousness about her as she says, "Good for all of us. I've never seen Y/N that jealous before. For once, I thought we'd have to protect her from you." 

You could kill her. Flustered, you tilt your head to one side and look out over nothing, mumbling, "I wouldn't say I was that jealous." 

"No?" Spencer asks. "I can go tell her you've changed your mind." 

"Don't push your luck, Reid." 

[strawbeerossi]

Dress

Pairing: Husband!Spencer x Wife!Reader

Description: When you’re getting ready for an event over at Rossi’s, you express how you feel you don’t look your best in the dress you had your heart set on. Spencer is gonna do his best to show you just how beautiful that you are.

Content/Warnings: Body image issues, full body kissing, oral (f receiving), praise, pet names, just some good love and fluffy sex.

Word Count: 1.9K

Kinktober Day One: Body Worship

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

The dress looked so beautiful whenever you bought it. The black silhouette did good at hugging your frame, highlighting every dip and curve. Most people would’ve loved to wear a dress like this one, to steal all the attention of the night and feel nothing short of a beauty queen. It was elegant, a smooth velvet that showed poise. However, it didn’t really work out that way for you the more you looked at it without the presence of wine and the loving encouragement of your friends.

That’s why you found yourself standing in place, trying to smooth out what you deemed as imperfections that just wouldn’t go away. This was a nightmare.

“We are going to be late, my love.” Spencer called from his spot in the shared bedroom, looking in the standing mirror on the back of our door as he was fixing his tie. Formal events at Dave’s house were always a fun time. You’d actually managed to feel fancier than normal, the champagne and pleasant conversation adding onto that. You were also quite fond of the idea of socializing with some of the people who had known Dave or even the other members of the team at any step in their lives.

“I think I’m gonna have to pretend to be sick..” You sighed while making your way out of the bathroom, heels clicking against the wooden tile and catching Spencer’s attention. “Why would you pretend to be sick?” He asked, voice filled with concern as he was approaching you, his hands gently cupping your warm cheeks.

Now there are many answers that you could’ve come up with to deter from the overwhelming amount of insecurity festering inside of your mind and body from the dress that you so desperately needed to buy online. Marrying a profiler meant that he would be able to call you out on the lies.

You opted for honesty.

“I just..” Your eyes were trained on the mirror across the room. There was hatred for the sight looking back at you. In a way, it felt as if you were drowning in poor self esteem. Fuck this dress. Why did you have to pick one right off the rack without trying it on first? JJ told you that it was sleek, sexy. It felt the complete opposite. “I don’t like the way I look in this dress. I don’t have anything else to wear over to Dave’s house and I don’t know if I could show my face wearing this.”

There was no doubt that Emily, JJ, Tara and Penelope would be elegantly dressed with flattering attire that highlighted every positive about their bodies. While all having different body types, it was easy to see the beauty in each of them. They all had such well defined features, their bodies being sculpted from the finest stone. They were all four Persephone reincarnated.

Then there was you, the awkwardly shaped one who never felt like she fit in. Your hair wasn’t as nice as theirs, your teeth weren't as nice and perfect.. Sometimes you found yourself wondering why Spencer chose to marry you whenever he had such fine women on his team. The self deprecating thoughts were cut off by Spencer, a soft shushing sound leaving his lips. You’d been crying for a minute without realizing.

“I think,” He began while leaning forward to press his lips against yours. “That you look,” He continued on with his soft, sweet kisses as they moved to your jaw. “Absolutely,” His lips were soon on the flesh of your neck as he let his arms wrap around your waist. “Ravishing.” He finally finished, his hands running over your hips in an effort to soothe those wandering thoughts.

“You don’t believe me.” Spencer’s voice stayed steady, a frown forming on his face while you were blinking away a few tears.

“It’s okay, I will have to just show you just how beautiful you really are.” With his hands moving to the zipper of the dress, you could feel your cheeks heating up. “We are going to be late,” You spoke while letting your eyes fall shut as the wet kisses were slowly trailing down to your shoulders. “I think David would understand. Besides, I can promise you that it’ll be an all night affair.” He chuckled. Which, yeah.. That made sense. David Rossi could keep an event going all night if he truly wanted.

As the black dress pooled by your feet, you offered a shy smile as the kisses continued, your skin being filled with warmth from all of the love radiating off of Spencer’s lips from each kiss that was littered across the skin of your shoulders and collarbones. “Besides.. I’ve been punctual for the past fifteen years in every aspect. I think that I can be late just this once.” He chuckled, hands coming up to unclasp the black bra you’d picked out, letting it fall with the dress before he was lifting you in his arms, prompting you to let your arms to quickly wrap around his shoulders. “We shouldn’t take too long anyway.”

Your body hit the clean duvet when you were laid back on the bed, the cover still smelling of the sea breeze fabric softener that you’d become so obsessed with. Your husband’s lips continue to trail wet kisses across your skin, his hands running up your body as he was on his knees beside you. “You’re so beautiful, my love.” His words were soft, sweet. “Especially laid out like this for me.” You’d been nearly bare, panties separating your wet pussy from his loving gaze. His hands massaged the skin of your hips, lips littering more kisses around your chest area. “My perfect girl, I don’t know how a guy like me could be so lucky.” Love dripped onto your skin akin to the feeling of the bright sun shining against your skin on the hottest days. Your response came in the form of a soft breath, feeling his tongue flick over your right nipple.

His tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, the male humming in delight as he could feel it hardening at the wet muscle massaging over it. He knew the sensitivity of your body, his hands kneading at the warm flesh of your breasts. You were reduced to soft moans, encouragement for more as your fingers tangled in the once neatly styled curls. “Fuck, Spence.” Your words were a melody to his ears, the male not always being so fond of partaking in swearing or really listening to it. However, whenever you did? He enjoyed it. That meant he was doing his job in the intimate positions that you both had found yourselves in.

Pulling off with a loud ‘pop’ filling the room, the honey colored irises were focused on your face, still contorted in pleasure as his hands were massaging your tits with his large hands. He repeated the same action with the opposite nipple, one hand dropping and his fingertips trailing down your skin, the goosebumps on your body standing at attention as his thumb was pressing against your clothed clit, hips wiggling in an effort for more.

Who was Spencer to deny his amazing wife the pleasure that she so desperately deserved?

Even if he didn’t want to, the male was detaching his mouth from your chest while his long fingers were hooking into the waistband of your panties. Your hips lifted out of instinct, body feeling hotter than ever as you were desperate to feel more of the touch you craved in the place that you needed it most.

After the panties were tossed somewhere behind him, the male let his hands carefully push your thighs apart, eyes focused on your slick cunt that looked more beautiful than he could put into words. His mouth was agape at the sight, those pretty honey eyes slowly disappearing in the black of his pupils.

“Fuck,” The swear was rare, yet hearing it fall from his voice in the dulcet tone never failed to surprise you.

“We’ve got twenty minutes before Dave starts calling,”Spencer spoke while glancing at the alarm clock, eyes falling on the mouthwatering sight nestled between your thighs. “So, think you can do it?”

The question was rhetorical. He knew by now how your body operated.

Before you could answer, his face was disappearing between your thighs, lips pressing kisses to your inner thighs as he sucked and nibbled at your skin. Leaving hickies between your legs was the best place, mainly because they were for his eyes only. It wasn't something unprofessional to where you couldn’t go to work without covering up. Less headache. The man was practical.

His tongue lapped over your clit as he was delving in, eyes fluttering shut. His favorite place had to be between your thighs. Stressful case? He’s licking and sucking your wet cunt from the safety of your hotel room. You want intimacy but he’s not in the mood for sex himself? He’s disappearing under the sheets.

He was intoxicated by your sweetness, drinking in every ounce of arousal that you were so happily giving him. His tongue ran alongside your velvety inner walls, your pussy spasming from the muscle that was darting in and out of you, having to alternate between your clit and your core.

Your hands were tangled in the now messy curls, your back arching off the mattress while the sounds of your moans and cries filled the room in addition to the suckling and groans coming from your husband, who was so focused on licking every inch of you.

You felt the familiar warmth deep in your stomach, a knot tightening inside of you as your pulsating walls were closing in on Spencer’s tongue. With your hands shoving his face deeper into your weeping pussy. “I’m gonna cum, Spence.” You panted out, eyes fluttering shut as your head tilted back against the pillow behind your head.You know that you couldn’t hold back any longer, your body giving every indication that it was ready to unleash a wave of ecstasy.

The man licking and sucking didn’t let up, his hands having to hold your hips down as your orgasm was building. The more you wiggled and thrashed, the more that he knew that it was coming.

“I-” You tried to get out, however that didn’t work out in your favor as a moan was chasing what was supposed to come out of your mouth. Your legs were shaking as you were finally hitting release, your nails digging into your husband’s scalp while your mouth was agape.

The warm muscle was licking and cleaning up your thighs before you were seeing your husband’s face again. His chin was wet and his hair was an absolute mess as he rubbed your thighs.

“Let's get you in that pretty dress and get to Rossi’s.” He breathed, letting his teeth playfully bite at your inner thigh before he was pushing himself up.

Which you didn’t argue, the post sex haze making it difficult to speak. Even after you were redressed and Spencer had his hair fixed once more, he was coming to wrap his arms around your waist as he noticed you in front of the mirror.

“Feeling better? Cause I promise that you are going to be the most gorgeous woman there, you’re gonna have all of Rossi’s friends flirting with you.” He mused, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as you let out an airy laugh.

“Let’s get going, hmm? I need my beauty queen to make me look good.” He offered his arm out to you as they linked together, his free hand on your arm as you both made your way downstairs.

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Six-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Angst, Violence, Aggression, Blood, TomRiddle, Slapping.

***FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Emily, are you sure I look okay?" You said, your voice a mix of stress and anxiety. "Did you get my baby hairs? The ones in the-"

"Yes, I got them." Emily said, cutting you off as she took a few steps back, focusing her attention on your uniform now. "You look perfect. Beyond perfect."

In the soft glow of your dormitory's lamplight, you moved toward the mirror, your reflection illuminated with a warm, golden hue. You released a long, tension filled breath as you eyed your appearance, your Ravenclaw uniform clinging to your form with tailored precision, the royal blue fabric complementing your complexion and accentuating your confidence. The pleats of your skirt fell in perfect symmetry, and your tie was knotted with care, each fold a testament to your attention to detail.

As you met your own eyes in the mirror, your irises sparkled with determination and purpose. Your makeup, subtle yet enhancing, highlighted your features without overshadowing your natural beauty. With a final, approving nod at your reflection, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the meeting ahead. You wanted to make sure that every element of your appearance spoke volumes about your professionalism and attention to detail. Confident and composed, you spun back around, meeting your blonde-haired friend  with a subtle smile.

"Emily, I can't express my gratitude enough," you sighed, your voice tinged with a mix of appreciation and unease. "I can't fathom why I'm so terribly nervous about this."

"It's Tom bloody Riddle; anyone would be nervous," Emily replied, her tone holding a touch of amusement as she lounged on her bed, her eyes fixed on you. "You know, he could be really good for you."

Your breath caught in your throat, and your eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying," she continued, sensing the growing tension in the room. "It's astonishing how you've spent seven years at Hogwarts without really getting to know him. You and he, you're like kindred spirits--both quiet, effortlessly brilliant...I could see you two hitting it off."

You felt a shiver race down your spine at the very idea, yet you quickly dismissed it with a forced, light-hearted chuckle. "Now, that's quite a leap, my friend."

"Make sure to remind me of my prediction when it comes true," she teased, a smirk dancing on her lips as she stifled her giggles. "Off you go now, don't keep Tom Riddle waiting.”

With a grumble of a goodbye, you took a steadying breath before pushing open the door of your dorm room and entering out into the bustling corridor. The familiar buzz of students filled the air, everyone seemingly lost in their own little world as you briskly made your way down to the library, your stride full of a tense determination. As you finally entered, your eyes scanned the room in search of Tom, and when you spotted him--engrossed in books, his demeanour calm and composed at a table in the far corner; your heart rate involuntarily increased.

But then, you spotted movement out of the corner of your eye--and when you shifted your gaze toward it, your pulse plummeted, heart stopping dead in your chest.

Mattheo Riddle, the man who, in his entire seven years at this school, had ventured into the library fewer times than he could count on one fucking hand--was surrounded by his friends on the far couches, a bright-eyed brunette girl seated dangerously close, her eyes glued to him as if he held the universe in his hands. The scene sent a jolt of conflicting emotions through you--creating a visceral reaction that made you want to retch.

You blinked, unable to believe your eyes, witnessing the source of both your irritation and inexplicable attraction, appearing utterly untroubled amidst his social circle. The sight should have been inconsequential--a mere blip on your radar, considering your vehement dislike for him and everything he's put you through.

Yet, as he met your eyes from across the room, that familiar, breath-stealing, devilish smirk teasing the corners of his perfect fucking lips, it felt like a punch to the gut, a twisting turmoil in your chest that you couldn't quite comprehend.

You knew you shouldn't care about who he was with or what he was doing. After all, you despised him, his arrogance, and the way he seemed to effortlessly entangle you in his web. But the inexplicable pang of jealousy clawed at your insides, leaving you both irritated with yourself and unsettled by the intensity of your emotions.

Trying to shake off the feeling, you clenched your fists, reminding yourself of your purpose here--to meet with Tom Riddle and discuss the mentorship guild. Despite your internal turmoil, you focused on the task at hand, determined to ignore the distractions and maintain your composure, and began to make your way across the room toward Tom.

Straightening your posture, you took a deep breath to steady your nerves. As you approached him, you cleared your throat to announce your presence.

"Mr. Riddle," you greeted, your voice steady despite the chaos inside you. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I've heard great things about the mentorship guild, it's been a longtime goal of mine to be a part of it."

Tom's eyes, a sharp contrast to his brother's, held a depth of intellect that seemed to penetrate your very soul. His appearance was the polar opposite of Mattheo's--clean kept, professional; gelled hair and fresh robes--all attributes you'd never find on his messy haired, couldn't-care-less sibling. Tom regarded you with an assessing gaze, nodding appreciatively.

"I'm pleased you're interested," he replied, his voice smooth and composed. "Let's find a quiet spot to talk, and please, call me Tom."

With those words, you gave him a small smile before  following him through the isles of shelves and towards the back of the room, reserved only for quiet studies, leaving the unsettling sight of Mattheo and his entourage behind, unable to ignore the heat of his eyes on you from across the room as you moved. In the hushed confines of the library's quiet study area, you settled into a seat across from Tom, the anticipation of the conversation ahead mingling with a sense of relief.

Away from the prying eyes and distracting presence of Mattheo, you felt a newfound confidence building within you.

"Thank you again for considering me, Tom, you have no idea what this opportunity means to me," you said, your voice steady as you met Tom's gaze. "I've always admired your achievements and your approach to academics. I believe I can learn a great deal under your guidance."

His eyes, a captivating shade of deep brown, held yours in an unwavering gaze. "Please, the pleasure is all mine," he replied, his tone dipped in charm. "I've heard remarkable things about your intellect and dedication, Dumbledore spoke very highly of you. I anticipate our collaboration to be mutually beneficial…I have high hopes for what you can achieve."

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you offered a grateful smile. Encouraged by his words, you felt a surge of motivation. "I'm eager to contribute in any way I can."

Tom's eyes glinted with approval. "That's precisely the attitude we value. With your potential and determination, I have no doubt you'll find your place within our guild."

As the conversation progressed, you found yourself immersed in discussions about your academic aspirations, the guild's objectives, and the various projects they were involved in. With every word, you felt a sense of belonging, as if you had finally found a community where your intellect was not only recognized but celebrated.

As you observed Tom while he spoke, it was clear that he was someone you could relate to on a profound level. Like you, he poured his heart and soul into his studies, the pursuit of knowledge a shared passion. His quiet confidence mirrored your own determination, and his dedication to academic pursuits resonated deeply with your own values.

In Tom, you discovered a like-minded soul, someone who, like you, appreciated the sanctity of the library's quietude and the solace found in the pages of a well-worn book. While Mattheo's antics might overshadow his brother's achievements, you recognized Tom's brilliance as a beacon of inspiration, a reminder that there were others in Hogwarts who shared your unwavering dedication to intellectual pursuits.

As the discussions came to a close, Tom straightened his posture in his chair, adjusting his pristine Slytherin robes.

"It's truly refreshing to meet someone as passionate and driven as you," Tom said, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "I believe you have a lot to offer, and I truly look forward to seeing your potential unfold."

You offered a grateful smile, though his lingering gaze left a trail of warmth beneath your skin. "Thank you, Tom. I'm admittedly quite antsy to prove my dedication."

With a charming smile, Tom leaned over the table toward you slightly, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"I must admit, I'm not only intrigued by your dedication to intellect," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "There's something else...something undeniably alluring about you."

"Is that so?" You murmured, head tilting.

His words sparked something inside you that made your pulse increase. You weren't sure what the fuck you were doing right now, but admittedly, you couldn't help yourself. If the Riddle brothers had anything in common outside of their devastating good-looks, it was their effortless bloody charm.

"Indeed, it is," he matched your playful tone, a sly grin playing on his lips. "I'd relish the opportunity to delve deeper into your thoughts...outside of the Thursday evening guild meetings, of course," he said, his eyes glinting with intellectual curiosity. "How about we make it a habit, meeting one-on-one regularly? Tuesday evenings sound splendid, don't you think?"

Internally, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions stirred within you. The idea of regular one-on-one meetings with Tom was undeniably enticing, and would do wonders for your reputation, yet the fear of Mattheo's reaction held you back. As you hesitated, an unsettling vision of Mattheo's disapproving expression flashed in your mind, causing your response to stall.

"I...I appreciate the offer, Tom," you finally managed to say, your voice slightly shaky. "Tuesday evenings should work. I look forward to our discussions."

Your response came out a bit stilted, your internal turmoil seeping into your words, and Tom, ever perceptive, noted your apprehension with a slight eyebrow raise, but clearly chose to dismiss it.

"Wonderful. I look forward to it as well." He said, pushing up from the table and shooting you one last professional nod, "enjoy the rest of your night."

You smiled. "You too, Tom. Thank you.”

And with that, he spun, making his way down the dimly lit isle of the library, your gaze fixated on him until he was entirely out of sight. And once he was, you slumped back in your chair, releasing a stifled breath, acknowledging that his flirtation added a new layer of complexity to the already intricate web of your emotions--but, considering the fact that Mattheo was nothing more than selfish asshole who was currently cuddled up with another girl at this very moment, you refused to wallow in the thought of him any further.

You pushed up from your seat and delved deeper into the library's hushed corridors--the muted ambiance and the scent of old parchment surrounding you as you moved. With purposeful steps, you maneuvered through the labyrinth of bookshelves, gliding down the dim aisle of your choice, your eyes scanning the titles, seeking the specific astronomy book essential for your upcoming exam.

Finally, you came to a halt in front of the S category, your fingers gently tracing the spines as you read their titles, lost in the tranquility of the moment when out of nowhere, a vice-like grip clamped over your mouth, stifling any sound, and you were forcibly pulled backward--your body colliding with a strong, powerful chest, the abrupt impact momentarily jarring your senses.

As the initial shock faded, and the lingering smell of cigarettes and firewhiskey filled your nostrils, calloused palm tightening its hold over your lips, you knew there was only one fucking man that this could be. Mattheo Riddle's unyielding hand muffled any protest, and the fingers on his free hand dug into the wooden shelf beside your head, his silent strength radiating a chilling intensity that left you frozen in fear.

"Playing with fire, aren't you, Raven?" His hot breath danced on your ear as he whispered, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "You know, playing too many little games might get you in trouble, princess..."

Pinned against the shelf, your fingers clung desperately to its edge, seeking stability as your body pressed firmly against the unforgiving wood. Mattheo's presence enveloped you, a low growl escaping him as he tugged your face to the side, pressing your temple against the row of books, his lips grazing your ear--holding you captive like a fragile little bird, ensnared in the coils of the big bad serpent.

"Tuesday nights, huh?" His voice was deeper than you'd ever heard it, your heart pounding in your throat as you realized he'd must have heard your conversation with Tom--and clearly, wasn't very happy about it. "I knew you'd fall for his fucking bullshit, Raven...you seem to have a knack for falling into traps, don't you?"

Rage coursed through your veins, a primal growl building up in your throat as you pressed against his restraining hand, your thoughts ablaze with a multitude of scathing comebacks. The fervent desire to unleash your fury clashed with the harsh reality that he had more to say, leaving you seething in silence.

"You're delusional if you think he's actually fucking interested in you..." he breathed, pressing his lips directly to your ear now. "You're just his new prey...his new little protégé...take you in and make you feel special, just to discard you once he's done with you..."

A chill crawled down your spine, settling in the pit of your stomach like a lead weight. His words stung, and you struggled against his grip, his fingers digging into your skin, reminiscent of a snake coiling around its prey. Despite your attempts to break free, his hold tightened like a serpent constricting its victim, leaving you feeling trapped and vulnerable--involuntarily eliciting a sensation between your thighs you wished to ignore.

"Maybe that's what you want though, huh?" He taunted, voice dripping with disdain. "Maybe I've already ruined you...maybe you like being a little slut so much now that you're willing to throw yourself at anyone who offers..."

Your groan of frustration mingled with a futile attempt to break free, but his grip on your mouth remained unyielding. The hand that had been braced against the shelf now shifted to your hip, anchoring you firmly in place, his touch possessive, commanding--sending shivers down your spine, even in the face of his despicable words. The sheer force of his hold had an intoxicating allure, leaving you trapped in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, unable to fully resist despite your burning anger.

"Do you want to fuck him, Raven?" His voice tightened, twisting your head back further to meet his eyes, the painful angle making you wince, your lids fluttering shut as a result. "No, no. Open those eyes. Look at me."

Your stomach churned with unease, and you reluctantly complied, his fingernails digging into your cheek as he forced you to meet his dark, possessed gaze, the smell of alcohol radiating off his breath.

You swallowed. It was a bloody Thursday--why was he drunk on a fucking Thursday?

"Is that what you want?" He muttered, his voice softening, though his grip remained firm. "Because he's going to try...believe me, he's going to fucking try."

In the vice-like grip of his fingers, you growled low, a surge of irritation coursing through your veins like molten lava. How dare he presume to control your actions, as if he held any genuine concern for your well-being? His selfish motives were as transparent as glass, his only interest lying in your submission to his sexual desires. Meanwhile, he shamelessly paraded his affections for other girls, a cruel reminder of his callousness. There was no way you would yield to his manipulative tactics, your determination burning brighter than ever amidst the storm of his toxic influence.

And with a surge of sheer madness, you bared your teeth beneath his palm, sinking them into his rough flesh with a viciousness that mirrored the intensity of your anger, determined to inflict any pain you could in your struggle for freedom--and as your teeth dug into his skin, he recoiled, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you tried your hardest to draw blood.

His grip momentarily loosened, allowing you a gasp of precious air before he tightened his hold once more--his eyes, ablaze with a mix of fury and surprise, bore into yours, capturing your defiance and turning it into a challenge. With brutal force, he spun you around, your back colliding with the unforgiving shelf; the impact sending shivers of pain racing through your spine, and the back of your head met the harsh wood with a sickening thud--your vision momentarily blurring, your heartbeat echoing in your ears like a war drum, punctuating the silence of the library with the harsh reminder of your vulnerability in his grip.

Your eyelids flickered, blinking rapidly to clear the haze, unveiling his intoxicated form, a menacing silhouette against the dim light. His eyes, blacker than the midnight sky, bore into your face with predatory focus, dissecting every flicker of emotion that crossed your features. Your eyes widened in sheer shock, somehow just now fixating on the new cut over his nose, dried blood trickling down from his nostrils and staining his chin, throat and uniform like macabre tears.

"Yeah, that's right..." he muttered, grin crawling over his lips, "take a good fucking look, princess."

Trapped beneath his unrelenting palm, you pleaded, your voice barely audible amidst the fear that gripped your throat. Desperately, you tried to shake your head, your eyes widening in horror as the sinking, sickening sensation in your chest deepened.

Your heart raced with dread, praying vehemently that the blood staining him had nothing to do with Tom.

"I warned you," he sneered, his head tilting as he leaned closer, his palm pressing your head back against the shelf with savage force, as if he was anticipating your impending reaction. "I told you exactly what I'd do to him if he fucking tried anything..."

Your heart fell, shattered, and scattered into a million shards on the cold library floor. Anguish surged through you, transforming into a fierce, unyielding determination, and without hesitation, your hand left your side, a trembling force of defiance as it harshly connected with his cheek--sending his face whipping to the side, his messy hair bouncing against his forehead with the impact.

The sharp sound reverberated through the silence of the library, and his grip on your lips faltered just enough to allow you to break free. Before he had a chance to do anything else, you gripped his wrist, holding it in place, your chest heaving with the weight of your emotions.

Your voice trembled with a mix of disbelief and anger, words escaping your lips in a choked whisper. "I can't...I can't fucking believe you," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest like a frantic drum. "Mattheo, do you even realize what you've done?"

He blinked, his cheek tinged with a rosy hue from the impact of your slap. "Do you?"

"What the fuck do you mean?" Your lungs seized, anger threatening to collapse them. "How the fuck am I supposed to explain why you fought your own brother over me? How the fuck am I going to justify that in any way? We aren't supposed to...we aren't-"

Your words cut through the air, heavy with incredulity and a profound sense of betrayal. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, leaving you at a loss for words as you struggled to comprehend the tangled mess he had created.

"He doesn't know it was over you," he muttered, ripping his wrist from your hold. "It's not the first time I've fought my brother, Raven."

"Oh, so it's just one big coincidence that you suddenly pick a fight with him after he meets with the girl who's been tutoring you one-on-one for the last few months, right Mattheo?" You snapped, your words laced with bitterness and frustration, the tension between you hanging in the air like a storm waiting to unleash its fury. "Do you understand that if anyone fucking finds out about us...literally anyone...my post graduate career is fucking ruined, and all of this has been for absolutely nothing? Do you understand how many rules I've broken, how much I've risked, just to allow you to use me however you’d like? And this is how you repay me?"

With a sudden movement, you brought a hand to his chin--your fingernails biting into the skin of his jaw, the sharp edges of your frustration cutting into him as you held him firmly in place. The intensity of your grip mirrored the storm brewing inside you, the forceful pressure a physical manifestation of your raging emotions.

"You have absolutely no fucking right interfering in on my life like this...not while you're cuddled up with another girl on the couch...not when you've made it clear as day that I'm your fucking toy and nothing more." You seethed, your voice cutting through the air like a knife. "You have no right to paint him as though he's some demon when you haven't once dared to look at your own fucking reflection."

Mattheo's eyes met yours, his usual confidence flickering for just a moment as the weight of your accusation settled upon him. "You have no idea what he's like...you can't-"

"I know what you're like." You hissed, dropping your hand from his jaw. "And not many can be worse than you."

"That's where you're wrong." He retorted, spitting the words through barred teeth. "That's where you're absolutely fucking wrong."

"Admit it, right now, Mattheo." You snarled, words like venom as you spat them off your tongue. "Admit that I'm nothing but your fucking toy, nothing but a naive little slut for you to manipulate...admit that I'm-"

Your words hung in the air, abruptly silenced as Mattheo's vice-like grip clamped onto your jaw, the intensity of his hold promising to leave marks on your skin. He pressed your head back against the shelf, your body stiffening in response to his overpowering force. The heat radiating from his frame enveloped you, intensifying the sense of confinement as his free hand slammed onto the shelf beside your head, adding to the mockery of your helplessness.

"No," he growled, his voice low and intense, the frustration palpable in the air. His grip on your jaw tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, and you winced, the pain jolting through you. "You're fucking not."

"Bullshit," you hissed back, your defiance flaring despite the pressure of his hold.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze locked onto yours with a fiery determination. "If you were just some conquest, just some notch on my bedpost, why the fuck wouldn't I have fucked you already, huh?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, the intensity making your stomach twist in knots. "I've had countless chances, Raven...and Merlin knows I fucking want to."

Your voice trembled, the vulnerability seeping through your words like a crack in a dam holding back a tidal wave of emotions. "Want...to...what?"

"Fuck you," he admitted, his grip on your jaw loosening, his confession dripping with both desire and frustration. "I want to fucking rail you, Raven, what the fuck else would I be talking about?"

"But?" you whispered, your voice barely audible, your heart pounding in your chest, desperate for an answer you already fucking knew. "What's stopping you?"

He exhaled, his jaw tensing. "You're a fucking virgin...I've never...I wouldn't feel right if I-"

"Exactly my fucking point," you said, cutting him off, your words slicing through the tension between you. "It wouldn't feel right because I'm just a fucking toy, Mattheo...I'm just a means for you to get your release and then throw away when you're done, what you said just fucking confirms it..please don't stand here and try to pretend otherwise..."

The truth hung in the air, heavy and raw, the silence that followed echoing with the weight of your unspoken feelings, leaving both of you engulfed in a suffocating sense of reality.

"You said you had no interest in taking my virginity." You whispered, reluctantly meeting his eyes. "You fucking said that, before any of this started."

"I know," his throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I know what I fucking said.”

"So, let me get this straight." You spat, eyebrow cocked. "You want me to continue being your toy, breaking every rule in the book in exchange for your tutoring cooperation and improved grades in order to help me impress Dumbledore, while you continue to be with other girls, but get controlling and fucking crazy when your own brother comes near me, even though you know we could never be together and you have zero intentions of making that happen away...yeah?"

As he blinked, remaining silent, you huffed, releasing a frustrated breath. "Can you at least do me one little fucking favour and explain that hypocrisy to me, Riddle? Or-"

Cutting you off, Mattheo's fingers gripped your jaw for what had to be the hundredth time in ten minutes, pulling you into a kiss that felt like an explosion of chaos and passion--the taste of blood, firewhiskey, and the lingering scent of cigarettes filling your senses; a potent mix that somehow pulled a low moan from your throat. His tongue brushed past your lips, exploring your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless, your entire body reeling from the raw desperation in his touch. The world around you faded into oblivion as his hands slid into your hair, anchoring you to him, pressing you against the shelf with an irresistible force, neither of you willing to separate despite your urgent need for breath.

After what felt like an eternity, Mattheo's lips reluctantly left yours, trailing a path of fire down to your jawline. His hot breath, laced with the taste of whiskey and desire, washed over your skin as he panted, and the room seemed to pulse with the aftermath of the passionate exchange. The two of you stood there, heaving, as if trying to fill your lungs with enough air to regain composure--the intensity of the moment lingering, leaving you both breathless and yearning for more, even though you both knew it was a stupid, idiotic, dangerous game you were playing.

"How is it, that the one woman I can never get enough of, is the one I can't have..." he whispered, his voice so low you swore there was no fucking way you heard him correctly. "When I think about it, I guess it's a fitting punishment, for a monster like me..." his hands fell to your hips, softly holding you against him. "To hold something in my hands and know beyond a bloody fucking doubt that I'll never deserve it."

Your lungs stalled, your heart stopped, oxygen fleeing you as though it was running from a fucking fire. He took a step back, releasing you fully.

"You're right, I had no right doing what I did." The words slammed your chest like a fifty pound brick. You couldn’t do anything except blink. "But I couldn't control myself, and it's not your fault, it's mine. I can’t get over myself. Just be my tutor, and let’s forget anything ever happened between us…I hope my brother makes you fucking happy.”

Without giving you a chance to respond he shifted, making his way down the isle and disappearing around the corner before you even had a singular chance to decipher what the fuck had just happened.

————-

Chapter Seven->

[thir10th]

hey lovely! can I request a fic where r is feeling insecure with her body lately and emily shows how beautiful she is? fluff w some smut if you feel comfortable :)

Hi anon! your timing couldn't be better. This has been sitting on my drafts for weeks, i kinda hated it, but you just gave me an excuse to get back to it, so thank you for that and for requesting! Hope you like it <3

will you? - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

summary: see the ask. I changed it a bit but the main idea is still there tw: insecure reader, face-sitting, oral sex, body image, tiny bit of angst (blink and you miss it) a/n: this one might be a bit messy but i still enjoyed writing it! like & reblog <3

You throw your bag far away when you enter the hotel room. This case was getting hard, nothing was making sense, and you had been working for the past 14 hours none stop.

You need to ether sleep, eat something, a shower, or an orgasm. Or maybe all of them

but that isn't an option right now, because you're mad at her.

You aren't even sure why you had gotten so upset about it, its not like she had actually done anything, but you were still annoyed.

You were actually mad at yourself, more than at your girlfriend, but her words still resonating on your head wouldn't go away.

Emily's arms wrapping around your waist make you jump, getting you out of your thoughts.

Hugging you from behind, she rests her face on your shoulder, you feel her warm breath on your neck, she kisses your cheek lovingly.

Her arms leave your waist to reach your shoulders, her hands massage your arms which makes you close your eyes in pleasure, relying on her touch. Maybe staying mad wasn't that worth it.

"You know what i think you need?" she moves a strand of hair to kiss the curve of your neck "mh- what?" you say, a smile of pleasure starting to form on your lips

"I think you know what" she answers, you can feel her smile against your skin, her teeth brushing against your shoulder, and then you realize what she has in mind

"No, no, Em, absolutely not" You refuse, pulling away from her touch, turning around to look at her, crossing your arms.

"ugh i can't believe you're still thinking about it, after this morning" there it is, you are pushing her away again.

Why is she so insistent though, why can't she just read your mind and understand?

"Ok, ok I'm sorry, I just don't understand. You're always so open to trying new stuff, and that, just... i don't know, baby, i just want to know why you don't want it, that's all" She says, her hand reaching to rest on your arm to comfort you.

You just can't tell her, you're too ashamed. That same morning your girlfriend had suggested you tried something new in bed. She had asked you, boldly, (like she always did) to sit on her face.

She had insisted so much, you had denied every time.

Really, what was there to hate? your beautiful girlfriend was literally asking you to fuck her face, to eat you out, to give you full control. But you just couldn't do it.

"c'mon, baby, i just want to understand" she is being gentle, using her persuasion skills on you, calling you by the special pet name that would only come out in moments of special intimacy or vulnerability

She knows how to get to you, and that only makes you angrier.

You take her hand off your arm, getting yourself away from her, you need to be alone.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, try to keep it in your pants while i'm gone, all right?" you spit at her, and seeing her mouth-opened expression, you regret it inmidiately.

Standing under the warm stream of water helps you get your mind off of things for a while, while you wander what's exactly got you all worked up like this.

Emily doesn't deserve any of this, she had been nothing but sweet. Yes, she has been insistent about it, but that doesn't mean she had to be hit in the face with your own insecurities.

Getting out of the shower you stare at your reflection on the bathroom mirror. God, you hate how it makes you feel, but what you hate the most is how you're paying your own frustrations with your girlfriend.

Wrapped in a bathrobe, you get out, ready to face an angry Emily, instead she lays on the bed, already on her sleep clothes, reading with her book resting on her knees

"Em?" you try, she looks at you from over her book, then gets back to reading

"You're not gonna talk to me?" you ask

"whenever you're ready to actually talk to me, then I will. I'll try to keep it in my pants in the meantime, though" she shoots back in a sarcastic tone.

She's right, you shouldn't have said that, it had been a low blow.

You sit beside her, taking the book from her hands and placing it on the nightstand. She looks at you with mixed anger and sadness.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, you know i didn't, this is just hard for me" you try to explain. "Look, I just don't think it's a good idea, alright?"

"I don't ever want to make you uncomfortable, but i want you to talk to me, i've been trying to get to you, and you just shut me out" she says, sitting upright on her spot on the bed, taking your hands on hers, looking you in the eyes

"it's just... i don't want to... hurt you" her mouth falls open once again "hurt me? that's what this is all about? baby c'mon, you won't hurt me, why do you say that?" her tone switches to full concern now, the previous argument already forgotten

"yes, i will, I will choke you with this big stupid things and you won't ever want to go down on me again" you finally let out

"well... I'll die a happy woman then" she chuckles, trying to downplay it

"Ok, baby, listen to me" she holds your face with both her hands, forcing you to look at her, the tenderness of her gaze deepening into you

"i love every part of you, even the ones you don't like, thighs included" she waits for an answer but you don't say anything.

Emily lifts your your chin with her finger, and leaves a soft peck on your lips, the contact makes you relax instantly

"you are smart" she says, leaving another soft kiss on your cheek

"and beautiful" now getting your other cheek

"and sexy" she kisses your nose this time

"and so, so hot" she moves back to kiss your lips again, and you chuckle nervously at her words

"what can i do to help you believe me?" you shake your head "let me bury myself into you, please" her pleading is getting too much, her thumb caresses your face so softly, so tenderly.

How could you deny her anything when she asks so sweetly? you finally nod, the huge smile spreading along her face

"Em, are you sure?” you ask, biting at your lip as you watch your girlfriend sit on the edge of the bed and recline back, laying face-up atop the covers with an eager grin spread across her face. “I might weigh too much…”

Emily raises her head up and shoots you a look. “Honey, I’m positive,” she says, trying to keep the whine out of her voice.

She wants you on her so badly she can barely stand it, eyes flickering between your face and the bathrobe that covers your thick, delectable thighs from view. 

A moment of deliberation passes, then, without another word, you reach down and untie the soft white hotel bathrobe, letting it slide down your arms to fall to the floor at your feet, leaving you completely naked in a matter of seconds

"fuck" you hear her mutter "you're so beautiful" Emily breathes

“Not as beautiful as you” you murmur as she clambers onto the bed.

You crawl up it until you are kneeling beside Emily's head, the mattress dipping slightly beneath your combined weight.

“Is it okay if I…?”

“Yes.” her decisiveness tells you she wasn't joking, she does want this more than you had thought

You take a deep breath in and then lift a leg, swinging it over Emily and settling it on the other side of her head so that you are straddling her, your cunt hovering mere inches over Emily's mouth.

"Promise me you will tell me if i'm too heavy, or if you can't breath" too excited to resist, Emily reaches up to thumb at your clit. 

“I will” she says, sliding her free hand along your thigh, rubbing comforting circles into the soft skin.

“I promise you i will tap you twice, but i won't need it" she reassures. "You’re gorgeous—fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.”

Cautiously, you lowered yourself down enough that your near-dripping pussy was just barely pressing against Emily’s face.

You were planning to keep as still as possible in order to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs around Emily or put too much weight on her, but that idea flew out the window almost immediately after her tongue darted out, flattening itself against the lips of your pussy before dragging upward and settling at the soft nub of your clit. 

“Oh,” you gasp, giving a shuddery little jerk of your hips before you can stop yourself.

Emily moans in reply, the sound vibrating against your walls and causes you to whimper again. 

Her tongue flicks out, circling your clit and applying occasional pressure, whilst two fingers push inside you, crook and rubbing at your sennsitive inner walls.

You shudder and gasp, quickly losing yourself to the feeling.

“Oh, fuck, Emily,” you gasp out, finally giving in to the temptation to reach down and fist her hand into her silky hair.

Your girlfriend lets out another appreciative moan when you give it a rough tug, the vibrations making every feeling intensify.

Losing yourself to the pleasure, you rock your hips against Emily, knees pressing hard into the mattress. She has always been an expert on driving you wild like this.

Her nose rubbing right at your clit and you couldn’t help but moan, gripping tighter on the headboard. God, she has the perfect nose for this.

Emily’s mouth wrap around you, tongue sinking into your pussy as far as she can while she sucks at you, eagerly lapping your juices into her mouth.

Her hands groped at your ass, encouraging you to roll your hips, effectively riding her face.

She keeps up the pace, mouthing desperately at your clit until you can feel yourself letting go.

Hips stuttering and then stalling. Your thighs shook up, inner walls spasming around Emily’s fingers as you fall over the edge and into bliss.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, Em...” You breath out, your chest heaving as you very slowly open your eyes, coming down to earth as Emily leaves little kitten licks on your cunt, sucking up as much of your juices as she could.

Your body shudders when her nose brushes against you again, this time an accident and she chuckles softly, helping you swing your leg over her and drop onto the bed beside her.

Emily stays put, lying face-up as she catches her breath. Then, once she feels able to, she rolls onto her side and grins at you.

"good?" she asks, her fingers softly playing with your hair

"absolutely perfect" You reply with a dreamy smile, pulling her to you for a kiss. You can't help but moan into her mouth at the taste of yourself on her tongue.

"I'm really sorry of what i said, Em" you said, keeping you face close to hers, holding her

"It's ok, I know you were upset. I just want you to know that i love every single part of your body, no exceptions" you kiss her sweetly, her words causing a warm feeling to spread on your stomach

"you're perfect" you say, pulling her in for another kiss

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you like it! reqs are still open!

[demonicbaby666]

"Are you listening?"

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut 

Words: 3.4k+

Warnings: SMUT (R & E receiving), swearing, top!Emily, bottom/switch!reader, fingering, oral sex, semi-public sex (office sex), tinniest bit of degradation.

Summary: There's not really a plot here, just a bit of office sex fuelled by Emily reprimanding you for not listening in the field/in general.

A/n: As always- apologises for any mistakes. Please do let me know if you catch anything I’ve missed, or if I’ve missed something from the warnings 💜

You were sitting in Emily’s office, receiving an ear full; following up on a suspect alone did not bode well with her and you were feeling and seeing the full brunt of her wrath. She had made a point of not calling the rest of the team in, which you both appreciated and despised her for. It only meant you were alone having to manage your own shame spiral for your ‘insubordination’. Which was, in layman's terms, ridiculous. But what was even more ridiculous was how low the shirt Emily had conscientiously decided to wear that day. 

When she leant over, hands braced on the desk, it was painstakingly hard not to let your eyes drop just a few inches, she had to know it too because every time you dared to sneak a look south, a faint smirk flickered across her lips. 

“Are you listening?”

You weren’t. 

“Yes. I messed up, you’re pissed off, I won’t do it again.” 

There were quite a few things you could have said that would have got you out of that office a lot faster, and that was not one of them. When you looked into her eyes your stomach dropped, suddenly winding Emily up didn’t seem like such a good idea. 

The whites of her eyes doubled in size, dilated pupils bore down on you, burning two lazer rays right through you. She arched an eyebrow, pressing her lips together, practically huffing steam out of her nose with each breath. Fear, shame and dread were all emotions appropriate for the current situation you’d clearly aggravated, arousal however, was not. 

Emily pushed herself off the desk, circling around until she was barely half a meter away, leaning back, hands crossed, staring at you like a predator to their prey. The silence was deafening, the faint ticking of the clock in time with the thudding of Emily’s shoe against the carpeted floor was driving you mad, each second stretching out for what seemed like hours. 

You were both waiting for something, and you both knew what. She wanted an apology and you wanted out, the two worked hand in hand, yet you sat there, the magic words refusing to come out. There was something else, the fire in her eyes wasn’t just from anger and you needed to know what it was. 

“You’re a stubborn asshole, you know that?” A smirk ghosted over her lips, coffee orbs grew darker, without even knowing it, Emily had baited you - with that elusive smile - into a trap you had no qualms falling into. 

“I do.”

Up on your feet in milliseconds, you surged forward at the same time as Emily, meeting her half way between her desk and the chair you’d previously been perched in. Eager hands gripped onto your waist, pulling you into an embrace you needed no encouragement for, which you showed as you mirrored her enthusiasm, anchoring your hands around her neck, latching them onto each other, leaving her all but trapped in your arms, and you in hers. Two sets of lips found each other, meeting for a kiss that burned through your whole body, faster than should be humanly possible; leaving behind a pile of soot that had already set about dirtying your ‘clean’ record of office affairs.

Sure, you’d stolen a couple looks Emily’s way, she’d never seemed to notice, or if she did, didn’t mind in the least bit. When she’d caught you with your eyes glued to her chest it was hard to reply with anything other than a sheepish shrug and awkward smile - the kind of smile that says, ‘well you caught me, and I don’t exactly know what else to do so I’m going to shrug and pray you don’t report me to HR.’ - that kind of smile.

It was almost impossible to pull away from her lips and think logically, and as her lips continued to what can only be described as brutally attack yours, you allowed yourself two more minutes, vowing once the infernal ticking had reached the ripe number of 120, you’d pull yourself away and deal with the repercussions, preferably by avoiding them entirely. 

Her lips were soft, coffee lingered on her tongue, sweeping the length of your bottom lip, it was soft and polite, nothing you’d expect from an intense heat of the moment kiss, but that’s what it was, slower, softer and gentler; slow enough to serve you a reminder you were nearing a full minute in. 

Racing against time that would soon be forgotten entirely, you let her in, welcoming the strong, nutty, smoky aroma with a minty slide of your tongue against hers. 40 ticks left. The two flavours danced in your mouth, and you’d never tasted anything better, a deep exploration was taking place within the cove of your mouth, every nook being explored, measurements being mentally taken and placed for safe keeping, 20 ticks left. 

A small moan escaped your lips when Emily’s tongue found the roof of your mouth, brushing along small ridges that felt smooth under the pressure of her tongue. A chilling breeze grazed the skin of your hips, then cold fingers slid down the material and back up until they were warmed with the heat you were radiating. The feel of her fingers on your bare skin drowned the whole world out, not a single chime could have penetrated the thick outer wall of fire that was bubbling within you and flowing through the room. 

Minus 10 ticks and hands were aimlessly wandering the planes of your stomach, back and ribs, progressively getting higher and higher. There was next to no air left in your lungs and it was hard to tell whether the shaking of your legs was from oxygen deprivation or the all-consuming urge to take things further. 

Emily’s hand firmly cupped your left breast and all the air lost was suddenly found within one harsh breath in, breaking the kiss. For those few moments you stood in the eye of the storm, different possibilities surrounding you, not having yet consumed you, but taunting you with their presence. Looking into her near blackened eyes, you saw a modicum of emotions swirling in the chocolate pupils, dark tendrils of lust ebbed and darkened the rings, whilst beneath the surface you could see a glimmer of doubt, regret, something else. Then in the blink of an eye it was gone. 

There was barely a slither of brown in the sea of black wanting, the predatorial look boring down once more, working your stomach into knots and sending blood straight to your head. The internal battle ceased and was no more when the silence was broken by Emily. 

“On your knees.” She calmly said, “now.” 

It was almost embarrassing how fast you did as you were told, if it hadn’t been for the soft carpet that lined the floor of Emily’s office, your knees would have shattered, not that it would have stopped you. Looking through your lashes, you saw her standing tall, grinning like a Cheshire cat with a quirked eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your sudden will to obey.  

“Look at that, you can listen.” 

The remark lingered for all of two seconds before you did exactly the opposite, hands darting to her hip of their own accord, ripping the shirt out from the trousers they were neatly tucked into. The shock registering on Emily’s face quickly subsided and any thoughts of interfering disappeared when you brought your lips to freshly exposed skin, peppering a trail of kisses along her stomach, then hip to hip, sucking gently, leaving behind a visual path of red blotches that mapped a course down to where she most needed you. 

A small hum came from above you. Peering up, Emily’s eyes were shut, her bottom lip wedged between her teeth, trying - unsuccessfully - to stop any noise from passing through her lips. It was easy to see she was enjoying herself. 

You noted the way she looked, her cheeks were flush, chest rising and falling faster than normal. You were doing this her, hand delivering small kisses that were leaving her powerless and at your mercy. Yet, something niggled away at you, reminding you, you weren’t the one who gave the orders, but what was the harm in testing that theory. 

Feeling more secure in your actions, you pushed on her waist, forcing her to stubble back until she was leaning back on her desk. Shuffling along the floor with her, you continued to work the open space between her hips, moving a hand southward to pop the button of her slacks and pull her zipper down. When she pushed herself off the desk ever so slightly, you took it as an indication to keep going, pulling the trousers down her legs until the material pooled at her ankles, before being swept away to the side, leaving her in just a button up shirt and lacy black underwear. 

“Inside me.” She breathed out, eyes pinned down onto you, “Now.”

“Are you sure?” you dared to ask, whispering over the sound of your own beating heart. 

“Did I stutter?” Her eyes were colder, demanding and she had taken on the familiar tone of unit chief, plucking elements of the role she wanted - the power it gave her - projecting that dominance over every word that danced from her lips, and it was working. 

Her panties quickly joined the discarded trousers on the floor, and you refocussed your attention to the mouth-watering sight in front of you. The smell of her slick arousal flooded all your senses, blinding ever logical thought that once took residence within your mind, all you knew in that moment was Emily, and you wanted all of her. 

Edging closer you ran your tongue through wet folds, quietly moaning into Emily’s core, tangy sweet flavours frolicked and burst to life in your mouth, licking your tastebuds and you knew that you had found your new drug, your new addiction. You took her clit into your mouth, sucking lightly on the delicate bud. Finding a steady pace, you started to switch between sucking and licking, revelling at the small mewls that were being emitted from above you. 

Along with the heavenly symphony of sounds you were pulling from Emily it was the sight of her struggling against her body’s instinct that spurred you on, the heaving of her chest, her teeth brutally holding her kiss stained lips between them, her hips swaying in time with your tongue. Taking one hand off the desk she ran her finger through your hair before latching on tightly, holding you in place. 

“Put your fingers in me.” Emily breathlessly moaned, never taking her eyes off of you whilst you continued to ravish her. Two fingers slithered into Emily; needing no further instruction, you began pumping them in and out at a controlled pace. 

“More.” 

Filling her tight canal, a third finger slipped inside, following in suit and accelerating the pace and rhythm previously set. Your tongue continued to work at her clit, running circles over it faster and faster, fingernails grazed your scalp and the thighs perched either side of your head struggled to hold themselves up, shaking more and more with each lick, with each thrust. 

Using your free hand, you placed Emily’s left thigh over your shoulder. The new position offering a delicious opportunity to curl your fingers and caress her g-spot, toppling her over the edge. Nails clawed into your skin, painfully clasping around your hair, her neck arched, black hair tussled over her back, her hand flying over her mouth in an effort to muffle the roaring moan that was brewing in her throat. 

To anyone who was listening in, it would have just sounded like a loud groan, which wasn't out of the ordinary, all the same, stopped you from pushing Emily into another orgasm. Instead, you opted for slowing down and helping her ride out every ounce of pleasure she could until her fingers released their tight grip and her breathing steadied. 

Once Emily had regained control over herself, running her fingers through her hair, focussing on her breathing, she removed her thigh from your shoulder and leered down at you.

“Up.” 

Fumbling a second too long for Emily’s liking, she gripped your shirt, yanking you up to your feet and flipped you both around. Piles of paper were swept to the side, swaying, and dropping to the floor before hands flipped you around again and slammed your chest down against hard mahogany, everything was happening too fast, stars swam across you line of sight, the room swayed from the sudden dizziness that swarmed your sense of gravity. Cold air hitting your centre anchored you back to the here and down, looking back to see Emily had made swift work of removing your jeans and adding them to the growing pile of discarded clothes.  

“You’re going to keep quiet unless you want someone to come in and see me fucking you on this desk like the dirty girl you are.” 

“I-” 

Cutting you off, the weight of Emily’s upper body pressed against your back, hot breath tickling the shell of your ear. 

“When will you learn to just do as you’re fucking told?” she husked sharply, taking a lobe into her hot mouth and biting down, sending shivers down your spine, and a pool of wetness between your legs. Quiet whimpers echoed through the room when Emily’s lips claimed your neck, salaciously sucking and laving small portions of skin into her mouth, releasing them only to move onto the next. Without warning two fingers pushed deep and hard into you. 

“Oh fuck.” you sobbed out, helplessly trying to keep quiet, when all you wanted was the complete opposite. Mimicking her previous action, your bottom lip wedged itself between two rows of pearly whites, biting down, simultaneously trying to locate the ability to breathe again. 

A hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pushing you further into the desk, and stopping you from following Emily as she steeled her spine and stood upright behind you, fingers still deep inside you, unmoving around your twitching walls. 

“Think you can follow orders?” Emily teased. 

She knew exactly what you wanted, and she knew she had you in the palm of her hands, ready to beg for it, she knew she was the only person with the ability to quench your thirst. You’d have done anything just to feel movement in you, to have your insatiable appetite finally fed with the sound of your own screams echoing in your ears. 

And that is why you said nothing, made no arguments, there was no reason to. She wanted this as much as you did, deep within those brown eyes burned a fire so hot you knew it would eventually come to consume you, there was no point preventing the inevitable - is what you told yourself - eagerly nodding against the desk. 

“Good girl.” 

An instant reward was delivered for your obedience, fingers twisted inside of you, then began pumping hard and fast. Your hips jerked forward, not seeking to get away, instead looking for a hard surface to harbour yourself to, needing to experience every waking moment of this; the full force of each thrust, remember every wave of pleasure that swept over your body and consumed your entire being to the point you thought, only there in that office was where you’d ever know true pleasure. 

Knuckles whitened under the pressured grip you’d forced your hands to take on the edge of the desk. Your breath was coming out in sharp bursts, making it near impossible to take in sufficient amounts of air through your nose. The only option was to pry your lip from your teeth and hope you had the willpower to stop any sounds that threatened to spill from your agape mouth. 

The hand pushing you against the desk set about finding a new home, moving down your back, curling round your torso and slowly working downwards to your clit, where it finally settled, hovering over the small delicate bundle of nerves. 

Her fingers continued to slide in and out, picking up more speed and vigour when they were joined by a third, then a fourth, forcing you to bite down on your arm to stop a scream from alerting the whole office to what exactly was going on. Your hips were grinding back and forth against her fingers until you were writhing beneath her, your whole body on fire teetering on the cusp of your orgasm.

Another wave of pleasure crested over your body when two finger pressed down on your clit, drawing small circles over it, switching tempo with every other slide of her fingers, gradually reaching an earth-shattering speed that had your knees giving out and small cries to bury deep into your skin, skin that now had two crescent shaped bite marked etched into it.  

Your mind was a mess, body out of control, the pressure in your abdomen was at an all-time high, short shaky breaths passed in and out of your nose, some interrupted with small moans breaking and crackling in your throat. You tightened around her, feeling her more than ever, and with three more partially vigorous jabs of Emily’s supple fingers, you folded; silently screaming, reaching the height of your pleasure, there was nothing more to be done other than involuntarily roll your hips backwards, riding out every second of your powerful orgasm. 

With exhaustion weighing heavy on every muscle, you let your body stay slumped on the desk till you found some of the composure you lost whilst riding Emily’s fingers, fucking you from behind within earshot of the people you work with on the daily. 

Unwillingly, you had to admit, there was something precariously arousing about it. A different heat travelled through your body. One that spiralled in your stomach, nibbled away at your pride, you were lying face down on your boss’s desk, half naked, leaking down your thigh, still wanting more. It was all wrong, yet so right. 

The ticking of the clock rang through the silence, hands wrapped around your waist, softer than any touch you had felt before. Gently Emily guided you up, planting her hands firmly on your waist - in case your quivering legs buckled under you - she turned you around to face her and leaned in to press a light kiss against your lips, which you in turn melted into. 

Flinging your hands over her shoulders you let her take charge of the kiss, keeping it slow and steady, hands moving down to cup your ass and hoist your thighs around her midsection. The two of you stayed that way for what you told yourself was an ‘appropriate’ length of time, lips encapsulating each other, hands roaming freely, just feeling your lithe bodies pressed against one another. 

“Next time, try to listen to what I have to say instead of gluing your eyes to my chest.” Emily said, breaking you out of your trance, sat behind her desk, casually enough that doubt flickered in your mind, maybe you were wrong, did you get lost in a sea of cleavage and fall into a makeshift reality - a detailed one at that - of Emily having her way with you. The bite mark on your arm, the feelings tingling through your body in all the places she had touched you, they were real, they had to be. 

“That wasn’t-” there was no point fighting back, you were too confused, too shocked with whatever had just happened either in the compounds of your mind or pressed up against that desk. You turned and started walking to the door.

“I’ll see you at my place. Eight o’clock. Don’t be late.” Her voice boomed from behind you. Looking back at her, her eyes were lazily roaming over scattered paperwork until they met your gaze. An eyebrow quirked up, accompanied by a pert smile, she began to survey the sight in front of her, eyes dropping at the nape of your neck. 

Pushing her chair back and striding towards you, butterflies fluttered low in your stomach at the authority she exuded from doing something as simple as walking. She ran her fingers through locks of your hair, moving them so they cascaded over your shoulder and were snug around your face, concealing your neck. 

“Don’t want anyone seeing what a good girl you were for me, do we?” She teased, placing a smirked peck to your lips and pulling the door open behind you.

Not a daydream, definitely not a daydream. 

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[igotanidea]

Christmas party: Aaron Hotchner x reader

christmas bingo day 2 : christmas party

***

Third annual BAU Christmas party was supposed to be the most important thus far.

Partially because Y/N could not attend previous two, due to her shot injury in year one and some family matters in year two.

But the other reason why it was so crucial, was that she was going to go with Hotch. And not just as BAU colleagues and team mates.  

No.

They were going as couple, though Hotch with his reserved persona and everything that happened in his love life before, was fairly reluctant to use this tag to describe them.

And Y/N understood this perfectly.

But Hotch’s harshness and skin deep coldness was not going to take away her excitement and holiday spirit.

Especially not after the little shopping spree with Emily, JJ and Penelope.

Y/N found just the right dress, fitting her body like a glove and was trying it one once again in the peacefulness of the house spinning around in front of the mirror, admiring how good it lied down, when a single sound of throat clearing threw her back to reality.

„Haley is sick.” Hotch said as if that was explaining everything. He had his signature unreadable expression and slight frown on the face, but for a second even the chief of the BAU couldn’t cover the tiniest glint in his eyes as he noticed Y/N’s new purchase.

„Hm. Okay....” she muttered in response. She really didn’t like it when Aaron mentioned his ex-wife. „Thanks for the information, but I think you missed steps 1-5 of why does this concern me.”

Maybe it was a bit heartless and cruel of her to say it, but truly no one could blame her for getting a bit possessive and jealous. After all, Haley was the woman he had a son with - oh wait, a son. All of a sudden she realised what this was about and looked at Hotch with poorly hidden disappointment in her eyes.

„I have to take care of Jack.” he just said and she filled in the rest.

They were not going to go.

She opened her mouth and closed them almost instantly. There were so many ideas in her head of how to remedy this sudden emergency. Jack’s grandparents, who would most definitely love to have the little boy over for a few hours. A babysitter. A night kindergarten. Or maybe they could left Jack sleeping through the night hoping he would not wake? Besides, was Hayley really so sick that she couldn’t have her son around her? Maybe she was just doing this on purpose cause she wanted Hotch back in her life, despite being the one to divorce him? There must have been a way for Aaron to still attend the banquet...

 And that’s when it hit her.

She was being a terrible person having thoughts like that.

Jack was just a little boy, not a bargaining chip. And trying to come up with a plan to get rid of him (in some way,even if just temporarily) was straightforward cruel and completely heartless. Honestly, at this point Y/N was ashamed of herself and of putting her own needs and wishes to show off as couple before standing by Hotch’s side.

„Y/N.” he said again with that deep, calm voice letting her know that he already analised her behaviour and face expression enough to know what was going on in her head.

„I’m sorry...” she muttered

„I can’t go the Christmas party.” he stated

„Oh, cause you wanted to attend it so much, right?” she rolled her eyes and chuckled causing him to lift the right corner of his mouth.

„But you wanted to.”

„Doesn’t matter.” she shook her head „three time’s the charm, maybe next year I’ll have more luck to actually get drunk and make a scene legitimately.”

„Y/N. You can still go by -”

„Nope.  Not a word Hotch. Not going without you. We’re a team remember. Not just as work. Not leaving you. Besides, I got a feeling it’s time for me to properly meet your son, don’t you think?”

***

Hotch didn’t say a word of objection and even though he never showed it, he was melting (inside) watching Y/N playing with Jack next to the Christmas tree. They were both splayed on the warm blanket on the floor, their happy faced illuminated by the Christmas light making them look like home. And when they both fell asleep on the couch, Jack holding onto Y/N with his little fingers wrapped around her midsection Hotch was pretty convinced that no fancy party could be better than this view in front of his eyes,

@somest1

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

An angsty Chaggie/Chaggily idea I don’t think we’re discussing enough: Charlie is potentially a natural angel killer. She was able to manifest a weapon that hurt and could have potentially killed Adam. Imagine her having to contend with THAT revelation while being in love with Vaggie (and potentially Emily as well).

ooooo i've been WONDERING if heavenly steel's killing ability comes from them being forged by / imbued with like, high ranking angelic power, like from a seraphim or such (sera not only allowing the exterminations to happen, but having to quietly supply and resupply adam with the weapons for it....)

can u imagine tho. if Charlie's being part seraphim gave her that same power?

first, before that becomes a thing- Vaggie's so relieved and relaxed to have the exorcist secret out in the open. she doesn't have to worry about Charlie seeing her angelic blood anymore-

(maybe grins, reminding Charlie they can be a bit more adventurous in bed now) (maybe sits Charlie down and gently explains that she'd rather they got a bit rough in practice sparring with each other than see Charlie get hurt in an actual fight later-)

and maybe Charlie starts to kinda like seeing Vaggie's angelic blood, in the right moments

she loved Vaggie as a sinner- but she just UNDERSTANDS her better now, knowing why her partner hates heaven so much, why she believed in Charlie and redemption and the hotel when no one else did- maybe also it's reassuring, knowing Vaggie really isn't a sinner who might choose heaven over hell some day. instead she's an angel, she did the reverse, she's chosen hell and Charlie over heaven (she isn't leaving) (not like-) and that golden blood is PROOF

so there are love bites that get a bit passionate and there's moments in sparring when Charlie starts tentatively throwing all of herself into a fight, to feel what it's like, to fight for them and their future together even if Vaggie gets a bit scrapped up in the here and now-

but the scraps. don't heal. the way non-angelic wounds should

the love bites Charlie leaves on her scar

and Vaggie, she's fine with that! more than fine

She's surprised and RELIEVED- Charlie's tougher than anyone thinks, Charlie will never really be unarmed if someone tries to get the jump on her- (so many want to) the tight memory of seeing her fight Adam (his hand on her throat) easing a little as Vaggie reshuffles her girlfriend into the heavenly tier above him (smirks at how he'd HATE that)

Vaggie, taking a moment whenever she's by a mirror, just to trace the new marks her girlfriend left on her

(bookmarks from her new life, good memories, more changes from the exorcist she stills glimpses staring back at her sometimes- changes SHE chose, this time, so different from her missing eye...)

but Charlie... oh... Charlie would be gutted by them

no matter how many times Vaggie smiles as she touches the scars, there's still the sinking, hollowing thought- Lute is the one who leaves marks like that. Vaggie's eye, her wings, her hand- Charlie knows herself as the one who puts on the bandage, helps with the pain, remembers which side of her girlfriend to stand on and watches her back in a fight so it DOESN'T happen again... and now, she's also the one who's left scars

she's the one who could- with one wrong move or small mistake- could do WORSE than just scars-

and unlike with Lute, Vaggie is never on her guard around Charlie

Charlie going to her dad- her dad who she's only finally really talking to again because of VAGGIE- asking him, whispering like when she tiny enough to curl up in his lap- was that what it was like with mom? did that... have anything to do with Lilith leaving..?

Lucifer trying to reassure her- no no no, that part never bothered Lilith, physical stuff is the simpler part- loving someone is way people really get the power to hurt you-

(his own love of creation, of life, leaving him broken hearted down in hell-)(Lucifer cringing)

-saying instead, she TRUSTS you, Char-char. She believes in you (even when i didn't), and has she ever been wrong about it?

no

but Charlie will always be afraid, now, of just how wrong Vaggie's faith in her might be

[sequinsmile-x]

Instincts - The Third Time

Five times Emily doesn't yell at her mother-in-law, and one time she does.

Part 3/6

-x-

Hi friends <3

I am so pleased you guys are enjoying this fic so far, it means the world to me!!

(Also - there is a 911 reference in this...if you spot if we're immediately friends i don't make the rules!)

As always, please let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: Full list of tags can be found on the Master List

Words: 3.7k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

The third time, Aaron yells at Caroline on her behalf, so Emily tells herself it doesn’t count. 

She regrets inviting Caroline to go wedding dress shopping with her almost immediately. It’s a spur of the moment thing, half a conversation she overhears over the phone between Aaron and his mother where she can tell she’s trying to make him feel guilty for her not being involved in their, already very simple, wedding plans. She says it before she can truly think it through, waving off Aaron’s furrowed brow and his concern when he covers the phone's receiver with his hand as Caroline continues to talk at him as he asks her if she’s sure. It was only afterwards, when Caroline had the date and time of the booking at the bridal shop, and after her flights had been booked, it occurred to Emily that it would be the first time she and Aaron’s mothers would meet.

Aaron, to his credit, had tried to organise dinner beforehand so he could at least provide moral support during the initial meeting, but due to Elizabeth’s schedule, it hadn’t been possible. Which meant Emily had been left to introduce them to each other in one of DC’s most exclusive bridal stores, the tension in the air almost as palpable as the floral scent the owner clearly had pumped into the store to keep it within it’s theme. 

It was exactly what she knew it would be like. Passive aggressive comments batted back and forth between them, like an expert game of tennis, only in the end it would be Emily who was caught in the crossfire every single time. Caroline and Elizabeth had wildly different ideas about what dresses she should try on - both somehow not in line with what she wanted at all - and to keep the peace she tried on dresses they both suggested. She’d spent most of the appointment catching JJ or Penelope’s eyes with for the love of god help me painted across her face with each comment either her mother or Aaron’s made about a dress the other had picked out. Her friends would try to help, they really would, but they’d be easily shut down by one of the older women and would then throw Emily an apologetic look and take a sip of their champagne. 

At least those cowards could drink champagne. 

She looks at herself in the bathroom mirror, grateful everyone had accepted her excuse for needing to call Aaron to check on how he and Jack were doing whilst picking out their suits so she could just have a few minutes to herself. She blows out a breath, and her hand drifts to her lower stomach, her thumb fluttering just below her belly button, her skin unchanged yet despite the life-changing thing that was growing beneath it.

Apart from her and Aaron, there were precisely two people who knew she was pregnant. The first was her doctor who had confirmed her pregnancy and performed the first ultrasound, the baby no more than a tiny fleck on the screen when they’d seen it a few days ago. The second was Allegra - the woman looking after them in the bridal shop who had simply smiled when Emily informed her quietly when she arrived before everyone else, and had taken great care to serve her sparkling cider alongside everyone else's champagne so no one would catch on. 

There were moments when she couldn’t quite believe that all of this was real. That she’d found love in a man who’d been right in front of her all along, the feelings she’d stuffed down into the deepest parts of her chest for years not only free but reciprocated. That she was only a couple of months away from marrying him. That she was having another kid with him, a tiny dot of a thing safely tucked up in her belly who would make Jack an older brother and who would call her mom, a title that until not too long ago, until Jack started saying it more and more, she thought she’d never get to bear. 

She looks up as the door to the bathroom opens, and Elizabeth walks in, her smile coy and her eyebrow raised. 

“I thought I’d find you in here.”

“Mom,” Emily sighs and leans forward on the counter in front of her, worried if she turned around too quickly she’d disturb the vague settled feeling in her stomach and throw up all over her mother, “I just needed a minute.”

Elizabeth throws her hands up before clasping them in front of herself, “Why do you think I'm in here, Emily? Caroline asked that Allegra girl to bring in another puffy monstrosity and I had to leave so I didn’t say something,” she shakes her head, “That woman is insufferable.” 

Emily chuckles, shaking her head as she catches her mother’s eyes in the bathroom mirror, “Mom, she’s going to be my mother-in-law in a couple of months.”

“Whilst that’s true it doesn’t make me any less correct,” Elizabeth says, crossing her arms over her chest, “She’s had something to say about every dress I picked out for you. She’s so judgemental,” she says, and Emily laughs before she can stop herself, her irritation and the constant nausea rolling in her belly unravelling her usual control over her reactions. Elizabeth scoffs, “When have I ever been judgemental?”

It’s Emily’s turn to raise her eyebrow and she turns to look at her, “Would you like your examples chronologically, or in order of importance?” 

Elizabeth clicks her tongue, “I’ve never been that bad,” she says, ignoring her own misgivings in a way Emily is sure must be purposeful, because if there was one thing Elizabeth Prentiss was not it was stupid. 

“Well we can agree to disagree on that one,” Emily says, swallowing thickly when a wave of her mother’s perfume catches in the air, the smell of Chanel No. 5 something she’d long equated with passive aggressiveness and judgement, something that would make her stomach roll as her mind and body prepared itself for whatever her mother had deemed she’d done wrong. A defence mechanism she’d learnt long before she knew not everyone had that reaction just at the familiar smell of their mom walking into the room. This time, it makes her stomach roll for entirely different reasons. The ever-present nausea that had convinced her to take a pregnancy test in the first place making itself known. The delicate, but robust, notes of rose and jasmine in the confined bathroom making her have no other choice but to clamp her hand over her mouth and run into one of the cubicles. 

It was times like this she missed Aaron more than she usually did when he wasn’t around. When her morning sickness took over he was always there. He’d pull her hair into a loose ponytail for her and rub her back until she was done before he’d pull a can of ginger beer out of seemingly nowhere, she never remembered him leaving the room, and he’d sit with her on the bathroom floor until she felt like she could move. 

This time, she has to deal with her mother’s protests from the other side of the closed, but unlocked, stall door. Her voice as high as Emily thinks she’s heard it in a while as she demands to know what's wrong. Once Emily is done, grimacing as she spits into the toilet and then flushes it, she gives herself a moment to blow out a breath, knowing Elizabeth wouldn’t let this go with no explanation. She rolls her neck side to side and then rolls her shoulders, blowing out another slow breath before she steps back out of the stall and smiles at her mother like she hadn’t just heard her throwing up. 

“Emily, what’s wrong?” 

She clears her throat, “Nothing.” 

Elizabeth raises an eyebrow at her, “I think we were both too old for this when you were 20 and pretending you weren’t hungover. We’re definitely both too old for this now. Is it the champagne? I did think it tasted a little-”

“It’s not the champagne,” she says, cutting over her mother before she could complain that the freshly opened bottle of Dom Pérignon they’d watched Allegra open for them wasn’t up to scratch. She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest, her jaw tight as she presses her lips together, “You have to promise not to say anything.” 

“Emily, really-”

“You have to promise,” she says, begging her in a way she hadn’t since she was young and wanted nothing more than her mother’s attention. 

Elizabeth relents, sighing as she nods, “Fine. I promise.” 

Emily couldn’t help but wonder what this moment would be like if their relationship was different. If Elizabeth would have naturally been one of the first people she’d want to tell instead of this just happening because of circumstance. If in another life, where they had the relationship she so knew she’d have with her children, she’d have told her she thought she might be pregnant before it was even confirmed. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

They fall into silence for a moment, and she sees a flash of something in her mother’s eyes, something she doesn’t want to call pride at the risk of hurting her own feelings, “You’re…pregnant?” 

She nods, “Yeah. I’m only 6, nearly 7, weeks along. So no one knows. And I wasn’t even going to tell you yet but…” she vaguely gestures towards the stall she’d thrown up in and then looks at her mother, a ghost of a smile on her face and that same look in her eyes. The silence makes worry creep up her neck and she clears her throat, trying to push away the nerves that were threatening to make her sick again, “Why do you think I keep pushing for an empire waistline?” she says, her laugh sounding weak to her ears, “I want whatever I pick to still fit in two months when we get married.” 

Elizabeth nods, finally finding her voice, “And no one else knows?”

“Just Aaron and my doctor,” Emily says, scrunching her nose up as she nods towards the door that leads out to the rest of the store, “And Allegra. She’s brought me so much sparkling cider I could have swam in it,” she swallows thickly and shudders, the thought of drinking any more enough to make her throw up again, “And I’ve got to say, it does not taste great when it comes back up the other way.” 

Elizabeth smiles at her, the edges of it blurred with a fondness that was achingly rare, “I remember those days. When I was having you I was unwell most of those first few months. Anything minty helped me. Might be worth a try.” 

Emily nods, her smile slipping away as she grimaces, “Speaking of something minty, do you have any gum or anything? My breath is going to suck.” 

Elizabeth looks affronted at the idea, “When have you ever known me to carry gum, Emily?” She says, raising her eyebrow before she starts to dig through her purse, “I do have some Altoids.”

She gratefully takes the tin from her mother and grabs a couple of the mints, groaning in happiness when the nausea seems to immediately go away the moment she pops them into her mouth. She makes a mental note to ask Aaron to fill the pantry with the things the next time he goes grocery shopping, not caring in the slightest if her reaction was psychosomatic or not. 

“Thank you,” she says, handing the tin back over to her mother, smiling when she shakes her head and clasps her hand around hers, the tin of mints curled in her fist.

“You keep them,” Elizabeth replies, “I hope they help.” It was just a tin of mints, something worth only a few dollars that she doubts her mother even bought herself, grocery shopping one of the many household chores she had someone else do for her, but Emily thinks it might be her favourite thing Elizabeth had ever given her. The press of her skin against hers and the look in her eyes worth more than all the fancy dresses and beautiful jewelry she’d had her assistants pick out for Emily’s birthdays over the years. “I’m so happy for you and Aaron, Emily,” she says, squeezing her hand again, “This is…you deserve this.” 

Emily smiles before she presses her lips together, trying to contain the shake in them, “Thanks, Mom,” she places her hand over her mother’s and squeezes once before they let go, “And you won’t-”

“Your secret is safe with me,” she assures her, “Knowing you’re going to make me a grandmother again is more than enough for me for now.” 

Emily hums, “That, and the fact you get to know and Caroline doesn’t.” 

Elizabeth comes the closest to smirking Emily thinks she’s ever seen, “That certainly doesn’t hurt.” 

___

Despite all the irritations that come with the day, Emily is delighted that by the time they leave the store, she’d chosen a wedding dress. It’s simple and beautiful, and exactly what she had imagined herself marrying Aaron in. 

Caroline had commented it was a little too simple, something Elizabeth had shut down by simply buying it before she could say anything else, but everyone else had loved it. The tears blurring Emily’s view of her reflection in the mirror in front of her also shining in the eyes of her friends as they watched her. When they get home, she tells Aaron they got the dress, and she starts to quietly tease him about it, her lips against his as Jack keeps Caroline entertained in the living room. They all have dinner together, and Emily puts Jack to bed at his request, his smile soft and sleepy as he whispered Love you, Mom, as he falls asleep. 

Emily yawns as she walks downstairs, her exhaustion catching up with her, and she wonders when she can feasibly start trying to hint that Caroline should start to head back to her friend’s house where she was staying whilst she was in town. She walks back into the living room and smiles softly when she sees Aaron and Caroline sitting next to each other and looking at Caroline’s phone, Aaron’s smile soft and loving, a look in his eyes that Emily knew meant that whatever they were looking at had something to do with her or Jack.

“He’s asleep,” she says, smiling at Aaron when he looks up at her, catching her lips when she leans in to kiss him before sitting on his other side, “He told me all about the suits you vetoed.” 

Aaron chuckles, “I didn’t think you’d appreciate us showing up in white. Or red.” 

She laughs, “Well, my mother certainly wouldn’t have,” she says, “What are you two looking at?” 

“Mom was just showing me some of the dresses you tried on.” 

Emily furrows her brow and looks over Aaron’s shoulder, her breath catching in her chest as she not only sees one of the dresses she’d tried on, but the dress. Her beautiful, simple, perfect dress.

“Caroline,” she breathes out, Aaron’s shoulders immediately tensing at her tone, aware something is wrong in a moment, “Thats…when did you take that picture?” 

“You were speaking to your friends and I knew I had to capture it,” she says, smiling as she looks at the picture again, “It’s not every day your soon to be daughter in law picks the dress she’s going to marry your son in.” 

Aaron looks at his mother so quickly Emily is sure it must hurt his neck, “That’s the dress she chose?” He asks, his tone so indignant Emily doesn’t care that they are talking like she isn’t in the room, all of her focus instead on not bursting into tears over a fucking dress, “Why would you show me a picture of that dress? I’m not meant to see it until the day.”  

Caroline locks her phone and shrugs, “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it was important.” 

Aaron scoffs, his hand seeking out Emily’s knee to squeeze it, providing silent support as her body gets tenser and tenser next to him, “How could you not realise it’s important, Mom? If it wasn’t, I would have been there today.” 

“Well you already live together,” she says, attempting to defend herself, “And I’m under no illusions you don’t have sex. I didn’t realise this particular tradition mattered when the others apparently don’t.” 

Emily chokes on a sound between a sob and a scoff and she stands up so quickly her head spins, her nails briefly digging into Aaron’s shoulder, “Excuse me, I need to…” she swallows thickly, pushing down every expletive that is threatening to break free, “I need to go lay down.” 

She’s out of the room before she can say anything else, and she almost turns back when Caroline laments that she now feels like the bad guy for a simple mistake, but Aaron stops her by telling his mother off on her behalf. His insistence that she must have known what she was doing, but that he didn’t know what the motivation could be other than upsetting Emily following her and fading off as she walks up the stairs to find solace in between their sheets. She vaguely hears their arguing, neither of their voices raised loud enough to wake Jack or for her to hear what they were saying, and then she hears the front door open and close in quick succession. 

She isn’t upstairs by herself for very long, curled up in their bed with his pillow gathered against her chest with one hand as she furiously wipes tears away from her cheeks with the other.  He looks sad when he walks into their bedroom, his hands in his pockets as he somehow looks physically smaller than he had when she left them downstairs, as if the mere act of arguing with his mother had cut him off at his knees and left him as the teenage boy who he’d once been. 

“I am so sorry, sweetheart,” he says as he sits on the bed next to her, his hand on her waist, his thumb and finger grazing her hipbone and ribcage as he squeezes her soft skin, “She didn’t….” he shakes his head, residual anger sinking into the lines on his face, “I had no idea that’s what she was showing me.” 

“I know you didn’t,” she assures him, sniffing in a failed attempt to hide her tears, “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says, her face collapsing into a sob she feels ridiculous for as she covers her mouth with her hand, “Damn it.” 

“Oh, Em, baby,” he says, laying down next to her and tugging his pillow from her arms so he can hold her close, both of his arms around her as he tucks her against his chest, “I’m so sorry she did that.” 

She nods against him, “I don’t know why I’m crying, it’s just a dress,” she says, tears still streaming down her cheeks despite herself, “Your kid is ruining me.” 

He smiles sadly and shakes his head, the hand not rubbing soothing circles on her back catching tears on her cheeks, “It isn’t just a dress. It’s your wedding dress. And you’re allowed to be sad and upset about this. I just…” he shakes his head and clenches his jaw, “I don’t know why she would have done that other than to be spiteful.” 

“It might be because my mom paid for it to stop her complaining about it being too simple,” she says, shrugging one of her shoulders, “Mom also refused to let me pay her back by the way.” 

“I’ll talk to Mom once I’ve calmed down a little,” he says, resting his cheek on top of her head, “Make it clear that this wasn’t acceptable.” 

“I…I could pick another dress,” she says, the thought alone after finding something she loved more devastating than she thinks it should be, “If you want to be surprised on the day.” 

He pulls back to look at her and sees the genuine offer in her eyes, how she’d really return the dress she’d fallen in love with just so he’d be surprised on their wedding day, so he decides to do the one thing he promised he’d never do - something they both know he’s doing the moment he starts. 

He lies to her. 

“I barely got a look at it,” he says, his lips pressed together in a firm line, “I’ve already forgotten what it looks like,” he kisses her forehead, and then the tip of her nose, a smile flickering across her face causing one to flash across his, “I remember white…and that’s about it.” 

She shakes her head at him, familiar, all consuming love threatening to overwhelm her at the obvious lie. His attention to detail was second to none. She knew he remembered every detail of it, every fold of the silky material as it lay against her body, that he remembered the smile on her face as she looked at herself in the mirror, and she also knew that she couldn’t be mad at him even if she wanted to be. 

“Really?” She asks, leaning into his palm as he wipes another stray tear from her cheek.

“Really,” he confirms, stamping his lips against hers, “So, I’ll still be surprised on the day.” 

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and cups his cheek, pulling him in so she can kiss him, “Well in that case,” she murmurs, only pulling back just far enough to speak, “I might as well keep it.” 

He nods, resting his forehead against hers, “You might as well.” 

She tucks herself against his chest, letting him wrap himself around her as she tangles herself with him, allowing herself the physical closeness she knows her pregnancy will slowly take from them over the next several months. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

He hides a smile against the top of her head and kisses her hairline, “I can’t wait to marry you either.” 

Whether his lie was obvious or not, he still cries when he sees her walk down the makeshift aisle in Dave’s backyard a couple of months later, and she can’t bring herself to care about what Caroline had tried to do. 

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

Came Back Wrong: Part 3.

I am a very intense person, it is the undiagnosed ADHD/Tism. but when I get fixated on something I need to do it. I reckon only 1 person likes this fic but I will do it for them and speedrun it. Anyway plz enjoy. @emily-reading-fanfic not sure if you wanted to be tagged but you liked my previous chapter (im so anxious tagging you)

The excursion thus far was uneventful, it was a pleasant day, you finally felt as if you had room to breathe. You cared for Gale, you truly did, yet his behaviour had become somewhat stifling as of late, you knew why he was being clingy, it was his brush with death and you were the one to bring him back, almost as if him seeing you as he was brought back to the mortal coil had made him intensely connected to you. Today was a good day, you already felt uplifted that Gale was finally starting to heal, letting himself enjoy the silence of the camp, not wanting to act as your shadow, mirroring your every step, moving alongside you as if you were both magnets.

The day was pleasant, the sun was out in full force, streaming through the canopy of trees above you, it was nice to finally have a respite from the horrible weather that had been plaguing you, though one person was enjoying the sun more than the rest of you, Astarion. Years of living in the shadows, forgetting how the sun could warm his skin, how the light could make things more beautiful, Astarion would never admit it but he was beginning to love days like this, days where he could walk with his head held high, basking in the beautiful rays of the sun. You watched the sunlight bounce off of his pale skin, there was nothing romantic between the two of you, yet even you could admit he looked beautiful in this moment, chasing the light and letting it envelop his body, savouring every moment of the sun as if it could be his last.

Your party walked on at a leisurely pace, Astarion would wander in and out of your line of sight, chasing the rays of sun that would break through the treeline, you had told him many times to stay with the group but each time he would just retort. “Darling, if anything happens to me, it just means I’ve gotten sloppy” You would roll your eyes each time yet still implore him to stay nearby, the threat of the absolute growing by the day meaning that the world was not safe. Today was a simple supply run, nothing of consequence, you and your party needed to collect some more food and water and then return to camp, a simple job really, not expecting to encounter any foes you all had your guard down somewhat, laughing and joking together, trying to pretend that your tadpole problem was not real. All was perfect for a while, far too perfect, until you noticed Astarion had been missing for quite some time, he would normally roam away for a few minutes at a time, returning just as promptly as he had left, this time he had been gone for a good half an hour, this was not right.

Alerting the rest of your companions you went into panic mode, this was not like Astarion and you were ever anxious about outside threats, knowing that The Absolute was on your tail did not do much to calm your anxieties. After what seemed like an eternity you happened upon him in a thicket of bushes, heavily wounded. You were not aware that Vampires could bleed but there he was, covered in blood and half conscious, maybe it was his blood or maybe it was the blood he took from you, you did not know, either way, you knew he needed immediate help. Your voice echoed through the trees, begging your campmates to help you with him, tears now streaming down your face as you saw Karlach lift his helpless body into her arms and walk back to camp.

It was your idea to go out and supply hunt today, this is why Astarion got hurt is what you told yourself. You watched Karlach place Astarion on the bedroll in his tent, placing him gently so as not to aggravate his wounds further. Karlach called Shadowheart over to try and help heal him but her powers only did so much, placing him into a magical coma hoping his body would do the rest for him. You stood there with the thousand yard stare, you could not believed this had happened on your watch, not knowing how to process this, watching everyone bustle around Astarions limp body as you stood there helpless. After it was confirmed from Shadowheart that Astarion was somewhat stable for now, you began to breathe properly, no longer holding your breath in your chest causing your blood pressure to rise.

In the camp everyone was bustling around Astarion, you were thankful for this as it meant he had a great chance of survival if everyone pitched in to his recovery, yet Gale came straight to you. He wrapped a warm blanket around your shoulders and coaxed you into his tent, whispering words of comfort into your ears as you finally felt tears spill from your eyes. Gale placed you upon his feather soft bed roll and went to make you a hot cup of tea, something that he had promised would help with your feelings of anxiety.

Once you were away from the outside world and in the safety of Gales tent, you found that the tears began to flow freely, sobbing heavily as you sat on Gales bed, muttering incoherently to yourself, asking how this could happen and blaming yourself for it. Gale sat beside you and held you within in his arms, cradling your head against his shoulder.

“Tav my darling, this isn’t your fault, we are living a dangerous life and cannot always be prepared. We all know what potential perils we face when we leave camp, we know what we signed up for when we decided to travel together.” His voice was soft and comforting, Gale kissed the top of your head and stroked the tears away from your cheek as he spoke. He had been the only person who had comforted you and helped rid you of your guilty conscious. You held onto Gale tightly as you cried on his shoulder, as if you were scared he may disappear in this moment before you.

The feeling of you gripping him with such desperation made Gale’s heart soar, whilst his plan had not fully worked, he wanted the Gur to kill Astarion, yet the state he was in it was dubious as to whether he would live or not at this point. One thing was for certain was that he had your dependency, only he had comforted you, only he wiped your tears away. He would become your safe person, the one you would always go to, regardless of what it was about. He had you now in his tent, a crying mess, curled up on his bedroll clinging onto him for dear life. The only way the outcome could have been better if I the Gur had finished the job, regardless Gale would take what he had now. You clinging to him, desperate for his affirmations and his gentle touch. He would offer you a place in his tent if you needed company, thrilled that you accepted straight away, not wanting to be alone for the coming nights.

Though his plan had not gone as intended, ridding him of Astarion permanently, he was pleased that the effects drove you to his arms, dependant on him, feeling safe within his arms and his tent, refusing to be anywhere without him.

[queenofbaws]

Don't know if you still do OT3 sort of things, but if you do, Ashley discovering she's Bi simply because she can't take her eyes off Chris and Jess down at the beach or pool

catch me catching up on some prompts ;)c

Ashley's hand barely skimmed the bottle of sunscreen before she forgot about it completely, her fear of burning up by the side of Mike's pool immediately forgotten when she caught Emily staring at her...and staring at her like that, to boot.

"Um. H-hi?" she stammered, yanking her hand back like she'd been scalded, watching Emily watch her, and...yeah, no part of this was good.

Emily sat with her elbow on the arm of her lounge chair, her chin resting elegantly on her hand and her sunglasses tipped down juuust low enough for Ashley to make out the almost clinical way she was looking at her. Her eyebrows were high - distressingly so - absolutely disappearing under the rim of her sunhat. She watched her for a second longer, then, cool as you please, drawled, "I want to study you under a microscope."

"I - what?"

"No, I'm being serious. We need to put you in a facility or something."

"Excuse me? What are you - "

"Who hurt you? Can you tell me that much? Is it that you were dropped on your head as a baby, or...?"

Okay, now it was getting mean. She sat up in her own chair, nervously tugging at the towel she'd draped around her shoulders. "Emily, I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Without bothering to explain herself, Emily reached out with her other hand, cupping Ashley's chin in her palm. She directed her face off towards the Munroes' deck where Jess was sticking a little tiny umbrella into her drink, laughing and chatting with Mike and Matt as they stood by the grill.

"So the whole staring at Jessica thing makes sense. No, really, shut up, it does. I mean, look at her! You'd have to be blind to look at her and not think, 'Yowza.' God knows she spends enough time in front of her mirror in the morning to get to that point. And her picking out a swim suit that skimpy? Not an accident. Defffinitely not."

"I - " she started, only for her voice to die in her throat. Oh, she was aching for that sunscreen now - she felt like she had steam coming out of her ears! "I-I wasn't staring at - "

"You were," Emily cut her off. "That's not the problem, though, like I said. Nonono. The problem...is...this." She turned Ashley's head the way she'd done before, but that time she angled it towards the diving board, where, God help them all, Chris seemed to be preparing to jump while holding every pool floaty available to him, Josh cheering him on from the ground while Sam watched on, shaking her head. "If you had only been staring at one of them with big, fat, goo-goo eyes today, you know what? I could understand. Hell, if you'd been looking at Jess and anyone else today, I could understand. Mike, Matt, Sam, me, whoever. But Chris? Chris and Jessica? You have got to enlighten me here - what the fuck is your type, exactly?"

"I, uh, I mean, I..." To her horror, she realized Emily actually expected an answer. "C-cute?" was the best she could manage, though. All considering, she thought it was a fair enough response.

But Emily just blinked again, sighing as she let go of her face. "Then we return to my original point. I want to study you. Under. A. Microscope."

[barrenclan]

I think catabolic seed by the scary jokes is very slugpelt, maybe about her life in general?

Yeah, I think so! I like the themes in this song about trying to take control of your life by reaching out to other people, but getting denied. That's very Slugpelt.

Also, check out this awesome PMV with Catabolic Seed, which I just have to show off cause I love it so much.

"But is bad luck really such a crime? If you won't be my valentine, could you at least give me a little bit of sympathy?"

"I don't care if I'm losing myself in the garden of earthly delights I could drop dead right where I stand, and I wouldn't mind"

You guys always find such interesting songs. I like this one. It's definitely got good Rainhaze energy.

"even through the pain animals cannot change dance with the skeletons and float away"

"eat and then die all your siblings cast aside too"

"see with new eyes a world ready to despise you"

No, no one's recommended this Hannibal fansong yet. But nice call for Ranger talking to Rainhaze!

"So look in the mirror And tell me, who do you see? Is it still you? Or is it me?"

"Do you feel the hunger Does it howl inside? Does it terrify you? Or do you feel alive?"

That's a good classic ask, back from the beginning of the blog. Never forget Christmas music Daff.

"Underground, boxed and glum Left you there for rot All my fears are overgrown Will someone burn this grove?"

"Welcome home! It's been a while Do you miss your head? With your tattered clothes and your bloody nose?"

I LOVE Vulture Culture! That song is great. I've been wanting to do a version of its animation meme for years now with a fandom I'm in. Maybe someday.

It can be a Rainhaze song and a Defiance song. They're so interlinked now, right?

"We live and die in a vulture culture We crucify anyone we hunger Gemini and a broken brother We live and die, my friend"

"Well, I guess I made my bed Now I gotta lie in it Like a suicidal kiss I got a guilty conscience"

BarrenClan is a cursed land!...

"The curse ruled from the underground, down by the shore And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before"

"If they called on every soul in the land, on the moon Only then would they know a blessing in disguise"

Asphodelpaw's themesong is a MARINA song, so you're already halfway there! I also agree with you about the idea of Asphodel feeling like she has to put on a strong front and pretend like she doesn't have any genuine feelings.

"It's okay to say you've got a weak spot You don't always have to be on top Better to be hated Than loved loved loved for what your not"

"You're vulnerable, you're vulnerable You are not a robot You're lovable, so lovable But you're just troubled"

What a wonderful title for a song. I also love mashing my OCs into any vaguely related song to them.

"I bid the sunshine adieu! In 1872 When the girl that I liked Made me a creature of the night"

"On the shortest night of the year I told him he’d nothing to fear As I bit his throat and crooned as he choked “Together forever my dear”

I'm certain this song has been suggested before, but that's only because any song from The Crane Wives discography could fit into PATFW.

"He taught me that the hand that feeds Deserves to be bitten when it beats He taught me how to break my chains And that money ain't worth a thing"

"Reminding me how little I have But as for time, as for time It's mine, it's mine"

Poor Pinepaw! He really does know too much, often envious of who he used to be.

...yeah, that's going on the playlist.

"Everything here is built on bones

Everything everything everything

And men will do as they’re foretold

Everything everything everything

Visions you don’t want to see

Everything everything everything

Hide your face from prophecy"

If I'm being real - since this song is so desert-themed, it's giving much bigger Saltburn's Clan energy, especially with the line about "mountain cats". (Blasting beams into the 3 people who read this's head to go read SBC at @nanistar)

If you want my opinion, I would say Slugpelt.

"So, if I can wait five more In this shape that I abhor I'll sleep with an open door Knowing you haven't touched a cell on my body"

"Now, my love carries the task Of handling the aftermath Can you smooth the looping lines Of fingerprints before your time?"

Lol I ran out of video embeds

[invisibleraven]

Keeping Spirits Bright

Day 22: Beautiful + PeterPatterLina <=AO3

Honestly this chapter is moreso Julie + Danny than anything else, but I hope you enjoy it regardless.

“Mami?”

“What do you need, Danny?” Julie asked, putting down her grocery list-she always tried to put her kids first, following her parents’ example. 

“I wanna make presents for everyone for Christmas,” he explained. “So I was wondering if I could use some of your art stuff.”

Julie held back a grimace-already imagining spilled paint, glitter everywhere, and not a single cap on any of her markers. “Well mijo you know you’re not allowed to use that stuff without one of us watching you, and I assume that would ruin the surprise of the present.” 

Danny hummed at that. “What if you watch me make the stuff for Daddy, Papa, and Luna and then someone else can watch me when I make yours?” 

Damn him having logic. So Jullie sighed and resigned herself to cleaning up a sparkly, gluey mess later. “Okay sweetie, let’s go dig it out and we’ll get to work okay?”

Danny beamed-his smile so like Luke’s it always took her aback some days. Though looking at Luna was often like looking at a mirror, she supposed she couldn’t say much. She had some pretty beautiful kids. 

Danny pulled her to the office where she kept her art supplies-she didn’t have a lot of time to doodle and paint any more, not with raising two kids and being the frontwoman of an internationally renowned pop band. They had taken a break for the holidays, but come January it was right back to the studio then tour-though they had all discussed taking a longer break before Danny went off to school.

“So what are you making for Papa?” Julie asked, sitting and watching him as he gathered paper and markers to the desk. 

“Well I’d like to do a song, but I don’t know how to write much, and especially not music,” Danny replied. “So I thought I’d draw him a picture and make a nice frame for it so he can look at it when he’s writing-like inspiration ya know?” 

Julie stifles a sob at that-gosh her little boy was so wonderful. “He’d love that. But if you ever do want to learn to write music, you can ask any of us you know.” 

“I know,” Danny replied. “I think I’m going to do a painting for Daddy-he likes horses and I can do a painting of horses for him.” 

“Perfect idea,” Julie surmised. “What about Luna?” 

“I made her a snowflake ornament at school, it’s all sparkly-she’ll love that.” 

Julie grimaced internally at the thought of sparkles everywhere, but nodded. “She really will.” Then she figured she would try to be crafty. “What are you getting me then?” 

“Not telling.” 

“Worth a try,” Julie said with a shrug. She watched Danny draw for a bit, his little tongue sticking out of his mouth as he scribbled. Great circles of colour, taking up most of the paper. Then adding stickers to it-some were music notes, but there was also a Bluey, and a witch, since they had a large collection. 

“Done!” Danny proclaimed, showing her the finished drawing. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Julie asked. 

“Well that’s Papa, and Daddy, and you, all playing. And there’s me and Luna and Ellie-we’re rocking out. And that’s Unca Lex, and Baba WIllie, and Isla.”

“It’s beautiful Danny,” Julie praised him. “Do you wanna make the frame now or do Daddy’s painting?” 

The frame turned out to be popsicle sticks and tape with even more stickers adhered to it, but Julie declared it a masterpiece and connected the two pieces while Danny mixed up his paint. 

The kids weren’t really musical-they were talented and artistic in other ways. Though Luna was showing interest in piano, and Danny loved to sing, even though he was completely tone deaf. But she, Luke, and Reggie had agreed that they wouldn’t push their dreams in the kids-letting them pursue their own interests with the support and belief from their parents. 

None of them wanted to be the subject of Unsaid Emily part two. 

The painting was more so a series of brown splotches than a horse, but Julie knew Reggie would adore it simply because Danny made it. Plus she had gotten gifts for the three of them from the kids, but these homemade gifts would mean so much more-and be remembered more than the ones she had spent money on. 

“All done?” Julie asked as Danny set the canvas aside. 

“I still need to do yours,” Danny said, making a shooing motion. 

“I’ll get one of your fathers-so you hide their gifts and don’t touch anything else okay?” 

“Okay mami,” Danny replied, but she was sure he had rolled his eyes as he said it. She pressed a kiss to his temple before going off to find Luke or Reggie. 

And on Christmas morning, he delighted in her husband’s faces as they opened their gifts from Danny. Only to repeat the expression on her own face as she opened her own gift-a homemade frame surrounding a picture of her, her children, her husbands, her father and brother-and right up in the corner, an angel that she was sure was supposed to be her mother. 

“It’s beautiful Danny, I love it. I love you.” 

“Love you too mami.”

[seramilla]

So this is based on an idea I had for a little joke in a hell raised Emily au that I will probably never have time to write. But Lillith calls Sera mom because when Lillith was first created and wandering alone the first angel she ran into was Sera and assumed she was her creator mom or something. (Sera wasn’t even involved in making Lillith she was working on the flowers and no told her they were going to turn the humans on today) Lillith figures out Sera isn't her mother and things move on but she ever since jokely called Sera mom since and joked about her being a bad mother for not taking care of her Sera never liked these jokes. Anyway the point is in the fic when Sera who needs to baby Emily somewhere safe goes to hell to eg Lucifer and Lillith to take Emily in Lillith does her normal joke of calling Sera mom and Sera doesn't react which to the joke which is how the two know whatever happened is big. Also like a 3 year old (at least by her appearance) Charlie gets excited cause she thinks she has a grandmother and gets disappointed.

Turn the humans on today. I love that. 😂😂

Even though neither of them had truly understood the mortal concept of motherhood before -- Lilith had been created from the dust of the Earth, while Sera had been formed out of the ether of Heaven itself -- it was Lilith who had ultimately beaten Sera to the punch. The former First Woman sits in front of her now, with her fallen husband, Lucifer Morningstar, and their firecracker of a toddler, Charlie, who is currently sitting in her mother's lap, playing with a duck toy her father had painstakingly made for her that morning.

Sera sits across from them, almost mirroring their position -- her sister, Emily, the light of her life, and the only true creature to ever bring out Sera's own maternal instinct -- sits on her lap, as well. She is similar in size and age to Charlie, and is reaching out tiny hands and fingers. Either interested in getting to know the princess as a playmate, or wanting to take ownership of the toy she holds in her little hands. Who knows what a child of that age is thinking?

"This situation is ironic, 'Mother'," Lilith tries to tease, but Sera does not return the playful banter. The woman she used to look up to is here on a mission -- a serious one, that risks not only her Heavenly position, but the future of little Emily, as well. She is not here to play old games.

"You're the only person I trust, Lilith," Sera starts, holding Emily closer to her midsection, as she thinks about what she's about to ask her former ward. "Heaven is catching on that I'm about to defect. I can no longer guarantee Emily's safety. If they force me to fall before I've had time to prepare an exit for us, things could become dangerous. They might take her from me. I might never see her again."

"So you want us to take her in, is that it?" Lilith asks, trying to keep her own daughter calm and in control in her own lap, as she tries to get out of her grasp and play with Emily. Eventually, Lilith and Sera just let them both go, and the two girls share the duck toy together easily on the plush carpet at their feet.

Watching the two young ones play together on the carpet, in a way that is completely unnatural for demons and angels in any other context, in any other circumstance, really, Sera begins to sob into her open palms.

"Yes," Sera states, trying hard to catch her breath and calm herself. "Please Lilith...Lucifer! If they take her from me, I'll have nothing left."

"Okay." Lucifer says it first. And with a quick glance from his wife, realizing how serious this is, she takes his hands in hers, and nods in agreement.

"She can stay here, great Mother," Lilith agrees. "Until you can get out. And figure out what to do."

Looking directly at Sera this time, Lucifer adds, "But please be careful, Sera. For her, and for us."

"I will, Lucifer," Sera says, nodding calmly. "Lilith. I promise."

[gamma-rae-bursts]

Never Good Enough

Emily’s mom comes to the BAU asking for help for her friends. What she’s not aware of is her daughter’s relationship with one of the fellow female agents.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: homophobia, typical criminal minds case talk, reader insert (let me know if I missed anything <3)

Word Count: 1600+

Genre: Angst to Fluff to Angst (very mild smut)

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for ages now and finally felt like writing some angst. The plot is heavily inspired by season 2 episode 20 "Honor Among Thieves". Includes canon dialogue! My requests are also open so if you have any ideas for me to write feel free to send them my way!

“I need to speak to Agent Prentiss and one of her superiors.” a voice roamed through the bullpen, a voice that was oddly familiar, yet you couldn’t assign it to a specific person. The whole team was gathered in the conference room for the morning briefing, which was interrupted by Emily shooting up from her seat the second she heard the familiar to you voice.

“She’s in the briefing ma’am” an agent replied.

“Yes. Well, this is extremely important.” the dark-haired woman said sternly with no intention of giving up.

The raven-haired agent left the conference room in a hurry.

“Mother?!” Emily exclaimed. That’s it, that’s why the voice sounded familiar. Even though you have never met Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss in person, you have overheard the few conversations she would have with Emily over the months. And despite knowing exactly who the woman standing in the middle of the bullpen was, you were aware of the fact that she had no idea about your existence.

You and Emily were open about your relationship to the whole of BAU, of course keeping your professionalism at work. Despite that, your girlfriend never disclosed your relationship to any members of her family, never made any attempts at coming out. As she once said, she ‘didn’t want to cause unnecessary drama’, which being open about her sexuality definitely would. You didn’t mind it, Emily wasn’t close to her family, often opting to stay away from them as much as possible. It was her choice to make after all.

Ambassador Prentiss didn’t arrive to the BAU for no reason, she had reasons to believe her friends husband was abducted by Russian mafia. The team, of course, took the case.

***

The agents were split into teams and sent off to complete their assigned tasks. Gideon, Spencer and Morgan were ordered to go to Baltimore where they would further split. Morgan’s part included visiting the victim’s house, where Gideon and Spencer were going to meet with a fellow agent in hopes of making new connections to the case. You and Emily stayed at Quantico. As the only member of the BAU fluent in Russian you were tasked with the role of the translator and Emily was there to help her mother make any arrangements that would contribute to the case.

You knew your girlfriend and her mother were not close, what you didn’t realise was how the latter woman’s presence will impact Emily’s well-being.

“Hey, you.” You said in a soft voice as you entered the restroom “how are you feeling?” you added in an almost whisper as you stepped closer to her. The raven-haired woman was standing by the mirror, covering her face with her hands.

“I’m doing great!” she replied sarcastically and chuckled. You wrapped your hands around the woman’s waist and turned her around in your arms. Emily weakly smiled as you pressed a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you Em.” you said softly and brushed some of Emily’s hair behind her ear, letting her relax in your embrace.

“Every time my mother is around, I feel like I’m 15 again, y/n/n” Emily whispered as she buried her face in the crook of your neck and pulled you closer. “I feel like I can’t be who I really am, like I’m doing something wrong. I know she would never accept me if she found out about us, I’ve always known that. But it’s easy to bury it deep in my head, and when she’s around it’s like a constant reminder that I will never be good enough for her.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to her Emmy” you muttered as you placed a kiss on the side of your girlfriend’s head. “She’s truly blind is she can’t see what an amazing person her daughter is, always will be and always has been.”

“You know I love you, right?” Emily breathed with her head still buried in your neck. “I don’t want you to ever think that I’m ashamed of us, of you.”

“I know honey.”  you quietly replied while stroking her hair “Now come on, the sooner we get out there the faster this whole thing will be over.” you spoke up as the older woman raised her head from your shoulder.

The two of you shortly left the bathroom to rejoin your team and help solve the case as fast as possible.

***

As you anticipated it didn’t take long to solve the case, what came as a surprise to all of you was that it was the Victim’s daughter, Natalya, that was responsible for the kidnapping. You and Emily returned to your shared apartment the same evening, both happy to have some tome for one another. The raven-haired woman immediately flopped on the couch in the middle of the living room. You were relieved to see her demeanour immediately switch to her old self when you entered your apartment.  

“I’m so glad it’s over.” Emily sighed as she tried to flip her shoes off her feet without standing up from the couch. You chuckled at the sight of the older agent struggling due to her own laziness.

“Need a hand with that?” you asked sarcastically as you raised your eyebrow, you started heading towards your kitchen to get some drinks for the two of you.

“No, I’m… good! I just need… to… loosen up the laces… and I-“ Emily didn’t manage to finish her sentence as the shoe flung off her foot. Thanks to your luck and your girlfriend’s unintentional aim the shoe hit you on the back of your head. You took a deep breath and turned around to face Emily, now covering her mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to supers her laugh.  

“I’m so sorry y/n/n I didn’t mean to!” Emily laughed as she lifted herself off of the couch and started heading in your direction.

“You’re lucky you’ve had a bad day, I wouldn’t let go of it that easy otherwise.” you giggled as you rubbed the back of your head. “Here you go.” you added as you handed a glass of red wine to Emily. The woman took a sip and put it back on the counter.

“I think I know how to make it up to you” Emily smirked as she grabbed you by your waist, pulled you closer to her, and kissed you deeply. She then pushed you into the countertop leaving kisses all over your neck, her hands finding their way underneath your shirt. You let your hands roam all over your girlfriend’s body as you pulled your head back, giving her easier access to your neck. You let out a quiet moan as Emily’s lips sucked on your pulse point sending chills all over your body. You started to sloppily unbutton Emily’s shirt, throwing it off of her shoulders and onto the floor. The older woman, not wanting to waste any time, pulled your shirt over your head and threw it on the kitchen floor where it joined the other article of clothing.

She picked you up and pushed you further onto the countertop, where you allowed your legs to wrap around her waist. As Emily began to unbutton your trousers you heard a knock to your door.

“Are you expecting someone?” you questioned and looked at Emily. The other woman shook her head. You got off of the countertop when you heard the knock again.

“I’ll check it out” you added as you quickly put your shirt back on. You got to the door and opened it in a hurry, ready to tell off the person interrupting your time with your girlfriend. You immediately stopped in your tracks as you saw the person standing outside your front door. “Ambassador Prentiss” you stuttered as your eyes went wide open.

“Is this not the address of my daughter, Emily?” she said, visibly confused. It was indeed the address of her daughter, and she was about to find out that it was yours too.

“Mom?! What are you doing here?” Emily choked out as she joined you by the door. Her half buttoned up shirt did not make the situation any better.

“Well, I wanted to visit you and see how you live, considering that I’m in town” the ambassador said sternly, looking back at her daughter as she pushed past you right into the apartment. “What is she doing here?”

Emily didn’t immediately respond not sure how to get out of this situation. The silence between the three of you grew more and more uncomfortable.

“I just stopped by after work to borrow a book Emily has mentioned to me recently” you chimed in, hoping her mother would believe you.

“No, y/n, I’m tired of this” Emily started as she stepped closer to you and wrapped her arm around your waist.

“Emily what are you-“ you wanted to protest but she didn’t give you a chance.

“She lives here, mother.” your girlfriend announced as her mother’s facial expression remained unchanged. “We’ve been dating for over a year, I love her and I’m not going to apologize for that or hide it from everyone, not anymore.”

You couldn’t decipher the expression on the ambassador’s face. Even though you knew it wasn’t anything good you didn’t expect what was about to come next.

 “I’m so disgusted I can’t even” Elizabeth stated as she looked at you and her daughter, Emily’s arm still wrapped around your waist. “I’m disgusted by you, I wish I’d known when you were born that you were going to betray me like this.” The woman growled as she turned around and left the apartment.

You looked at Emily, a tear falling down her cheek.

[kapi-tanka]

Recently discovered that Christine is the shortest adult character in New Vegas, then I noticed your cute art and general appreciation for Veronica

Do you think Veronica ever teases her for being tiny or tries to find any fun ways to use their height differences like a kiss on different steps of a staircase or something?

Basically do you have any thoughts or headcanons you’d like to share?

ahhh thank you so much for this question! i really like your headcanon, though i myself don't think about fluff/cute stuff in pairings much. i like messy relationships and i tend to daydream about interpersonal conflincts and misunderstandings between the characters 💀 but that's a me-thing. i'll use your question as an opportunity to share this wip veronica x christine piece (wanted to add way more pages). i can't finish it for quite a while but i really like the lyrics.

slothrust — pseudo culture we could play it off like nothing will happen but since nothing really ever happens around here we could play it off like we never failed

speaking of headcanons: i like the idea of them both being pretty awkward after their reunion. they've both changed so much it would feel like getting to know a completely different person. meeting your ex and starting something over with them again is never easy. especially if you still feel betrayed by them in a way. but they can work it out!

i like thinking about everyone building the independent vegas together. christine has very useful insight on tech from dlcs and lots of crucial knowledge in general to help (after she deals with all the dangerous tech in sierra madre and finally gets some time and space to reflect on everything that had happened to her). in my headcanon post-game story veronica doesn't leave forever after the ending but spends some time by herself just travelling and contemplating life too (unknowingly mirroring christine). then she comes back and gets involved into the independent vegas project with the courier and everyone else (that happens a couple of months before christine's arrival i think??). during this period veronica gets to work closely with emily ortal and even dates her for a while. i feel like they would be a legendary comedic duo (veronica's chaotic sense of humor vs emily's dark sarcasm. yeah she programmed yes-man, she has to be the saltiest of bitches)

i also have a completely different "courier" who covers dead money (and owb) content instead of my boy oscar; they didn't know veronica personally so that's why girls don't get reunited sooner. but that's the whole other story. thanks for the ask again!