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virescent-v · 10 months

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Hey, can I request #92 pls. Maybe with a little angst but I’m leaving it to you🩷

hi hi hi, so sorry this took like...two weeks. life, ya know?

it started as something, and im not sure this is the angst you were really looking for (that really isn't my area of expertise i should work on that lmfao) but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Definitely Not Friends

Word Count: 2.7k+

Prompt: “friends don’t do this kind of shit”

Warnings: It's smutty, ya'll, but not my "normal" kind of smut

The repetitive nature of your ongoing…tryst with Emily was getting under your skin. It had all started off so innocently; just some casual flirtation between coworkers. Nothing that Derek and Penelope haven’t been accused of over the years. But before you knew it, you were spending more alone time with Emily than any of your other coworkers. Late night talks on the phone, dinners after long cases to unwind, Friday night movie nights, the list goes on.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Just two coworkers who saw some terrible shit every day who got on well enough to lean on one another.

But then Emily started pushing the envelope.

A brush across your shoulders as she was passing by. A squeeze of your hand before getting out of the SUV to catch a killer. Eye contact that lasted just a little too long. A lip bite that made your breath catch.

Innocent enough things that you convinced yourself you were just imagining them.

But then one night after a gut wrenching case, she kissed you.

She had driven you home from the airport after getting back from a two week case in Minnesota. It was well after midnight, you could barely keep your eyes open, and you couldn’t figure out if you wanted to spend the rest of the night crying, eating your feelings in ice cream, or sleeping for the next six days.

She walked you to your door, nothing out of the usual. You looked at her before going inside to say goodbye, but she engulfed you in the best hug of your life. Her arms around you were strong. Supportive. You could feel your whole body melt into hers.

You’ve never felt more safe.

When you pulled back a little to look at her, your eyes caught and you tried to convey everything you couldn’t find the words for. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

And then, she kissed you and she ran.

You stood stupefied on your porch, watched her get back into the unmarked SUV before speeding off into the night.

You didn’t talk to her for three days.

At work, she acted like everything was normal.

You couldn’t bring yourself to bring it up because you weren’t even sure what it was. Was it just a comfort thing? Did she have feelings for you? You couldn’t tell. Emily was so hard to read on a good day, let alone when your head was all over the place.

A few days passed and it had seemed like everything went back to normal. You talked every day, had gone to a few meals together, and she came over for a movie night.

Except this movie night was different, too.

She was wearing a skimpier set of pajamas. A loose fitting tank top and the shortest pair of shorts you had ever seen. You knew for a fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra because her nipples were visible through the material. You weren’t sure how she hadn’t caught you staring.

She sat closer to you on the couch than normal, too. Your sides were basically joined from shoulder to thigh. You could feel her warmth radiating from her to you, the nervous excitement making your body heat up even more in return.

Again, you weren’t sure what was happening, but you were going to roll with it. The unknowing was thrilling in itself.

Emily fell asleep halfway through whatever romcom you had put on, her head on your shoulder, her hand lazily resting on your thigh.

You were too nervous to move, your breaths short as not to jostle her.

You’re pretty sure you could die happy on this couch with Emily’s head resting on you.

It was almost the end of the movie when Emily shuffled in her sleep, her head moving towards the crook of your neck, her hand traveling dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. You could feel the heat erupt through your body, your stomach starting to twist into knots. You knew you should probably wake her, get her into your guest bed, and go to sleep. But you were enjoying her being this close too much.

You could feel her breath against the side of your neck, the little puffs of air almost tickling. She grunted in her sleep, her hand tightening around your thigh, her nose nuzzling against you as she let out a sexy little “mmhmm.”

Your mind immediately went to the gutter and you could only imagine her making that sound as she ground her hips against yours in your bed.

You pressed your thighs together to stop the zoom of arousal that shot through you. You barely suppressed the moan that wanted to tumble from your lips.

You finally gained the courage to wake her and get her to the guest room. Sleepy Emily was one of your favorites; she turned almost incoherent and klutzy and it was maybe the cutest thing you’d ever seen.

As you were pulling the sheets up around her, she all but dragged you into the bed with her. She got you settled under the covers and immediately cuddled into you, making you into the little spoon. Again, you could feel her breath on your neck, her hand lazily drawing patterns on your upper thigh and hip.

You felt yourself freeze as she sleepily mumbled, “Stop overthinking it. Go to sleep.”

You woke up the next morning and she was already gone.

Your life with Emily continued on like this for a month. Little things would happen that would make you question your relationship to her and then she’d act as if nothing happened and that you two were just really good friends.

It was making your mind spin, giving you a constant headache.

You were almost fed up with the constant see-sawing, ready to talk to her about what was happening, when you two first fell into bed together.

Another bad case, a late night out at the bar with everyone, and too many shots of tequila.

You woke up the following morning with a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and fuzzy memories of the night before. All you could remember was the smell of her signature perfume, the feel of lips on skin, and sore muscles.

You probably would’ve written it off, thought it was just your overactive imagination if it hadn’t been for the rather large bite mark on the inside of your thigh.

You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, especially since the memories were still alluding you. You probably would’ve tried to write it off as a random hook up if it hadn’t been for the fact that Emily had woken up in bed beside you, an almost matching bite mark against her collarbone.

This time, it was a little harder to write off what had happened. Especially since you were both naked.

You could feel your mouth opening and closing like a fish, an almost panicked look in your eyes.

Emily cleared her throat. “Wanna get breakfast?”

You were never more appreciative and pissed for her nonchalant attitude.

“Sure,” you said, a sudden burst of confidence hitting you as you got out of bed to head to the bathroom without worrying about covering up.

You’re pretty sure you heard Emily gasp as you closed the bathroom door, a little victorious smirk playing at your lips.

Again, you two never talked about what happened.

It almost seemed like a game. How many days you two could go before stumbling into one of these moments together.

You made it thirty-six hours without snuggling on the couch for a movie.

You made it thirty-seven hours without Emily’s hand finding your thigh.

You made it eighty-eight hours without her kissing you after a night out.

You made it one hundred and fourteen hours before she was back in your bed.

Except this time, you were both sober.

You had almost gotten yourself killed. Not on purpose, just a run in with one of the many psychopaths you deal with at work. Wrong place, wrong time kind of thing.

But after he’d been placed in cuffs, Emily had this absolutely feral look in her eyes. Uncaged. Like she was seconds away from combusting.

She drove you home. Like always. But the entire ride was silent.

You made it into your apartment, the door barely closed behind you before she exploded. “What the fuck were you thinking?” She shouted.

It made you take a step back. She’d never raised her voice at you before. Emily was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, her fists clenched at her sides.

You were sure you looked scared, befuddled, bewildered. You couldn’t even process quick enough to say anything before she continued.

“You almost got yourself killed! He had you pinned to the fucking floor! There’s bruises along your arms from where he touched you!” At this point, you could see Emily almost vibrating with her anger. But you were fairly certain she wasn’t actually angry. At least you hoped not.

“I can’t believe you would be so reckless to walk into a building alone! You knew what he was capable of! How sneaky he’s been! But you didn’t care!” Emily started pacing around the floor, her eyes wild, but focused on her hands, her fingers twisting around each other.

You could feel your own misplaced anger starting to race through your veins. “I knew what I was doing! I had cleared the room! I don’t know how he got the jump on me, but how on earth is that my fucking fault, Emily? We split up, like we do to cover the premises, and I drew the short end of the stick!” You let out a breath. “Why are you blaming me? Blame him!”

She spun around to face you, her nostrils flaring. “I am! But I’m also blaming you!”

You rolled your eyes, tossed your hands up,” Why? What did I do? Why are you mad at me and yelling at me?”

“Because you didn’t wait for me!”

Your eyes caught Emily’s. Beneath the anger, beneath her guarded shell, you could see the fear in her eyes. The realization that something worse than a couple of bruises could have happened.

You tried to open your mouth, say something, but before you could, Emily muttered a quick “fuck it” before crossing the room to you, crushing her lips to yours.

Before you knew it, clothes were scattered along the hallway to your bedroom.

Emily tossed you back onto the bed, her body quickly making its way between your thighs. You quickly wrapped your legs around her waist, dragging her closer to you, tangling your hands in her hair as you brought her down for another heated kiss.

Emily broke away from you, trailing her lips down the side of your neck, quickly finding the spot behind your ear that made you moan out loud. She spent a considerable amount of time there, making sure to leave her mark before moving lower down your throat, kissing across your collarbones, and down between the valley between your breasts.

She wasted no time wrapping her lips around your turgid peak, taking satisfaction in the way it made you fist the sheets below you in your hands. She made sure to give the same attention to the other nipple, her hand making sure to not leave the opposite one alone for long.

Emily could spend hours giving your breasts the attention they deserved, but she was almost as impatient as you seemed to be, so she kept making her way down your body, finding the sweet spots that made you whimper or sigh, making note of them for later.

You could feel how wet you were already, but with Emily between your legs, you couldn’t get any friction to help the ache that was building.

“Em, please,” you whispered, almost embarrassed by how much you needed her. The build up from all of the times she was just a little too close, the lingering touches, and even the thought of the last time you two fell into bed together (even though you unfortunately don’t remember much of it). It was driving you crazy.

“Don��t worry, baby, I’ve got you,” she smirked at you before swiping her tongue through your wetness.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, your eyes rolling back a little, one of your hands shooting down to her hair to keep her there.

Emily ate you out as if her life depended on it, as if she could spend the rest of her life between your legs. She took her time to explore every inch of you, figuring out what moves made you whine, which ones made your entire body shudder, and what made you grip her hair harder.

It didn’t take long for you to climb towards the edge of your orgasm, but before you could fall over, Emily stopped and pulled away from you.

The gasp, the outrage on your face almost made Emily laugh out loud. “I love being friends with you,” she snickered at you, a taunting glint in her eyes.

“Friends don’t do this kind of shit,” you scoffed, flabbergasted at Emily’s ability, even with your juices all over her face, to ignore what was happening between you two.

You could feel Emily pause, her body tight, afraid to move. She didn’t expect you to lash out, and she could tell you weren’t really happy with her, upset with her disregard of everything.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her hands finding purchase on your hips, her thumbs rubbing back and forth a little. “I never knew how to…address this,” she shrugged.

You nearly laughed at how small she looked, unable to make eye contact with you. She didn’t have an issue with having her mouth on your pussy two minutes ago, but now she couldn’t look you in the eye.

“A conversation would’ve been a good place to start, Em. You made me feel like I was going crazy.”

Her eyes finally caught yours and you could instantly tell that she really did feel sorry. Feelings just weren’t her thing. Before she could apologize again, you cut her off, “We can talk about it after you finish fucking me, Emily.”

You watched her demeanor transform to something hungrier, cockier, feral. “Yes ma’am,” she mockingly saluted before connecting her lips to yours again, trying to convey everything that she was feeling.

Her hand traveled down from your hip, stilling at the apex of your thighs, silently asking for permission. You nodded against her, your lips still connected in a heated kiss.

She teasingly stroked your warm, wet pussy with her hand, gathering your juices on her fingers. She pulled back from your kiss, watching your expression as she slowly thrusted two fingers inside of you.

You tried to keep eye contact with her, but after the build up of all of the little moments between you, it felt so good to finally have her inside of you. Emily slowly built up to an almost punishing pace, something fast, and hard, and exactly what you needed. Her fingers curled at just the right angle to hit that spot inside of you that made your toes curl and your breath hitch.

Emily’s other hand made contact with your straining clit, rubbing tight, little circles to match her thrusts. You could feel yourself rushing towards that edge again, a breath away from letting go.

“Come on, pretty girl. Let go for me.”

Your release hit you like a freight train, your back arching off of the bed, your mouth open in a silent scream. You felt your muscles tense, the euphoria washing through you, before letting go and relaxing as Emily fucked you through your orgasm. You tried to catch your shallow breath, a light sheen of sweat across your flushed skin, before looking at Emily, your hands starting to dance across her skin.

Emily’s own hands caught yours, catching the questioning look in your eyes. She kissed both of your palms before tangling your fingers together. “Later, baby. We should talk first.”

Those words would usually cause a rush of panic to course through your blood, but something about the way that Emily was looking at you put you at ease.

You took a deep breath, smiling a little at her, kissing her hands in return. “Yeah, we should.”

She smiled back.

And she didn’t run.

#virescent v fanfic #prompt fill #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fanfiction #no use of y/n #ask v!#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #sorry if this isnt angsty or smutty enough lmfao i wanted to just write something to spark the motivation to write again #also this was edited by me reading it once so if theres mistakes im sorry for that too lolol

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fishermanshook · 5 months

Text

"You look, oddly familiar." (surviors! x gn!reader)

INTRO

A prompt where you knew said Survivor before they came to the manor. Your reason for coming here? Probably because of them.

꒰wc꒱ 1.0k words (grammar and spelling warning, mentions of abuse in Female Dancer’s part.)

The Enchantress

You and the Enchantress were together a lot as kids, or has your growing age started to wipe your memory clean? Do you struggle to remember such personal moments the two of you shared? Such a shame, as it's been over 5 years and you've yet to trace her location down. Has she disappeared from the world entirely? Seems like it, doesn't it?

Oh. Wait. There's a memory. An old one for sure, but a memory is still a memory. You and Patricia had spent what seemed to be every waking second together. So much so that Patricia's "mother" had started to see you as her own. Another child to take under her wing, and she gladly would. You understand that, right? Had she not taught you enough? The two of you had made a habit of strolling through New Orleans together, knowing almost every face that inhabited every corner of the city. You'd be down there for any number of reasons. To pick something up, to look for new ingredients, or just to look around the place you know by the back of your hand.

If the two of you had spent so much time with each other, then why didn't she tell you where the hell she went? She never left a note, a letter, or even a single clue as to where she ran off. So yes, when you received a letter stating to know her whereabouts you followed. Was it dumb? Oh for sure. But you would take every chance you could get to find her. You didn't even get to go up to her when you spotted her, she already knew.

"I wish you hadn't come," The Enchantress says with her back turned to yours. "but I can't help but be happy that you did." She chimed, turning around with a smile and a strange-looking artifact in her hand.

The Painter

You were there when it all started. You know, his painting thing. At first, he was a mess, paint slobbered all over his hands and face like a child. But I guess he was a child when he first picked up the paintbrush. Who would’ve known he would never put it down?

As Edgar’s talent increased, he started painting other things. Boats in the river, flowers growing outside, people strolling around the park where the two of you frequented. His drawings decorated his room and cluttered his bedroom floor.

For your 12th birthday, little Edgar (in all honesty) had forgotten about your birthday. The thought of it struck his mind at 1 in the morning as he quickly grabbed for his paints before whisking out a canvas. Throwing himself into his work, he produced his first of many portraits of you. From that point forward, it was a tradition for him to paint you for each birthday. No matter how many fights you had over his short temper or accidental paint spills imported from the other side of the country, you still received a packaged painting. Wrapped in fine silk with a “happy birthday” note tucked in between the folds. For you, he spared little to no expense. That is, until he got older.

It has been over two years since you've seen the man and you haven’t received a single portrait since. Arriving at the manor, you find him in the garden alone, painting a familiar portrait.

“It’s nice that you remember my face, as I’m starting to forget yours.” Your voice nearly makes him drop his paintbrush, as he whips around to meet you. You in all your stunning beauty, god, how you’ve grown from the small child he once knew.

Female Dancer

It is either that you met Nata-Margaretha in Lakeside Village or during your shared time spent in the Hullabaloo circus. Both experiences that you will not forget, but time makes things foggy. It blurs memories that were important to your life that you can no longer recall. But for the sake of going to bed without a piercing migraine tonight, your brain tells you it was during the circus.

Ah, now you're starting to remember things. As memories (some unwanted) come flooding back to you about the circus. A curious place that produced good and bad thoughts. Your mind flashes back to before the accident when time was spent helping Margie (a nickname used widely throughout the circus by many of its performers) tame animals and perform new jaw-dropping tricks to stun the audience.

You remember when your ignorance of what was happening behind closed curtains came crashing down. When Margaretha came crying to you, sobbing that she needed to tell you something. She then began to show you bruises and cuts that littered her body, all deliberately hidden in places that couldn't be noticed unless further expected. To keep it short, you were shocked that "he" could do something this horrible, to decorate her upper body in purple and red marks. It was even more shocking that if anyone noticed, "he" would just brush it off and say that she got hurt while practicing.

At that time, you knew you had to get her and yourself out of there. A lack of knowledge has landed your friend with bruises, cuts, and unwanted love from someone she thought she cared for.

You haven't seen Margaretha since the fire. Actually, you haven't seen anyone since the fire. Not Mike, not Murro, not even Violetta. But following breadcrumbs as to where they all went earned you a one-way ticket to the Oletus Manor, maybe your questions will be answered there.

"Margie?" You almost choke on your words. Seeing her for the first time in so long feels nostalgic. (how old are you again?) She can't even respond, she can’t even believe it's you. All you'll get from her is a death-griping hug and a stained shirt accompanied by her ever-flowing tears.

note: I love you Patricia (writers block is kicking my a rn)

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