#and then put the rest out of their misery

[demonicbaby666]

iii. Take Out with a Side of Make-out

Feelings are Fatal Masterlist | Masterlists | iv

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Words: 5.4k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, there's literally no warnings for this chapter though...

When you woke, it was to an empty apartment. Your quiet movements to lounge were of no importance because she was gone. JJ was gone. The only mark left of another having inhabited the space was a lonely, loosely folded blanket on the couch that sent a cold shiver up your spine. You walked forward and took the material into your hands, cradling it between your arms and chest as though you could trick yourself into believing it was the woman who marked its fibres with her scent. 

The question of JJ’s whereabouts or sudden departure remained unanswered as you scoured the room for clues. There was no note, no remnants of a coffee made before her leave, nothing but a few strands of golden hair that glinted off the sofa and pillows in the morning light. Still, you stood there for a few more minutes. Eyes closed, mind racing, you breathed in the last bit of JJ you had left held precious in your grasp. 

You allowed self-pity to settle into each slow step leading back to your room, praying your floorboards would turn to quicksand and put you out of your misery. The door creaked open, the hinges crying to be oiled and reminding you of yet another task you had left unchecked. Beside your bed was your phone, a beckon of hope for your worrisome mind that you ran to in desperate hopes an explanation lay waiting in a grey bubble. 

With a single tap, the black screen lit up. You scrolled through everything unimportant without an ounce of remorse. So brutal in your search for answers, you ignored even Garcia, her clump of twenty-odd messages moving up and up till they disappeared entirely. She could wait till later to hear about the so-called ‘hot date’ and how he turned out to be a grimy creep. 

With every passing icon, hope dwindled. The last notification stared at you with its time stamp so ancient that all it read was yesterday. In a late ditch effort, you clicked the text chain with JJ, thinking things could slip between the cracks when it came to faulty technology; you’d dropped your phone once or twice, surely that was enough to dislodge a wire or two. The chat was desolate of new messages. 

The dread you felt that Sunday set the tone for the upcoming week, which was entirely bleak. 

Work was work, and managing an independent bookstore had its good moments. Informing your colleague a friend of hers, or what turned out to be a friend of a friend of a friend of hers, attempted to spike you was not one of them. The only consolation to the awkward encounter was the consoling hug you received, which, for all intents and purposes, filled the gaping space in your chest that yearned for some form of physical intimacy on that first Monday back. 

Police reports were filed, and comfort was found in the awaiting punishment your date would face, but it was hollow and sapless. Each dying day, when the sun took its rest, you still stood in front of your mirror and noted the toll life without solace took on you. The dark circles under your eyes had worsened, taking on the appearance of bruises a person would sustain in a fighting ring. The fullness of your face was no more. Your cheeks looked gaunt and hollow. There was no colour to your face, no life force spare to light up your eyes after days of endless sorrow. The longer you looked, the more you realised you had fallen victim to a situation that was of your own making. 

There was little news on JJ. When a text finally came through on a bleak Wednesday, it was direct and uninformative. 

‘How are you?’ 

The reprieve from your anxieties was short-lived, and you scolded yourself for thinking JJ owed you anything when she disappeared out of thin air the moment the question of how she was doing was posed. 

That’s when the anger came. The blinking cursor mocked you with its potential. Endless texts filled with barbed remarks and pointed accusations were written, deleted, and edited until only the worst of the worst were left. It tore at your chest to read the message back and come face to face with the literate poison you had conjured. The words were sour on your tongue, and your voice was broken between sobs of a pained acknowledgement as you read. There is nothing hurt people do better than share their hurt, but that would not be you. You would not inflict damage upon the person you knew you would always love. No message was sent that day or the following. 

Time moved, and you clung to each new day's possibilities. Maybe if you gave JJ the space she appeared to need, she’d find her way back to you, but no matter how hard you fought to find hope and happiness where there wasn’t any, every passing hour you lived and breathed remained a quiet torment. Despair followed you like a shadow you couldn’t shuck, and for the first time since you parted ways with JJ, you considered the elicit relationship between you was coming to its inevitable end. 

The thought plagued you throughout the week till Thursday and Friday came and left, leaving you empty and tired, ready for Saturday’s promise of a day you could spend under your bedsheets utterly and tragically alone. 

The stages of grief had run their course, and you found yourself at the finale. 

There’s a misconception that when you find acceptance, it’s freeing and beautiful; tranquillity sheds beams of light over all the gloom and loss, like the sun peaking through a winter forest, thawing frostbitten earth. This contrived interpretation does not paint the harsh reality of acceptance. The hole cut through your chest did not feel less hollow; if anything, it was more prominent, leaving an imprint on your past, present and future. Songs, places and faces were draped in black garments, polluted by the faint air of heartache and neglect. 

Acceptance was the sword at the end of a fight that found your throat and put you out of your misery. Acceptance was realising in the death of your old self, you’d strive to be someone better in the next. Acceptance was knowing that you wouldn’t be victim to your circumstances anymore, that you’d carry your pain like armour, wear it proudly as you built your walls back up and never let anyone bulldoze them again. There would be no cracks in the foundations this time, JJ would not sneak her way into your heart, and the parts of her that remained would be snuffed out. 

So Saturday became the closing of a chapter, and Sunday began anew with the shrill of your phone waking you up at 7 am. Not quite how you expected the day to start, but you tried to avoid taking the abrupt start to the day as a bad omen. 

It was an easy decision to silence the call and reclaim the morning as your own. The first step—going back to sleep. 

The second call came through three hours later, and you couldn’t excuse ignoring it under the guise of self-care when sleeping past 10 am was bordering on excessive for someone who went to bed before the sun had fully left the sky the night before. Begrudgingly, you threw an arm over the side of your bed, violently clambering until your hand landed over the vibrating device. Too familiar with the screen layout, your finger pressed the general location of the answer icon as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Hello,” you mumbled, too tired to acknowledge the gruffness of your voice, though you could feel the greeting grate against your throat like sandpaper. 

“Shit. Did I wake you up?” 

Of course, it was her. Out of everyone who could’ve called to be greeted by your crackled, prepubescent morning lilt, it had to be JJ. 

Shooting up, suddenly very awake, you gripped the phone tighter and cleared your throat. 

“I had to get up anyway,” you stated blankly. 

“Oh.” She was off-put. You could hear it in her scattered tone. It was unknown whether it was from your lack of enthusiasm or the reason for her calling.

There was only silence for a beat, and you could hear the thoughts churning inside JJ’s head from the other side of the phone speaker. The responsibility to fill the silence was not yours. You weren’t the one to call, and you wouldn’t be the one to encourage JJ to speak now that she had suddenly re-founded her interest in you. 

“You still there?” she asked, sounding nervous enough for you almost to abandon your indifference to the unknown subject matter of the call. Almost. 

“Yes,” you replied, seemingly unbothered despite feeling the exact opposite. “Just waiting.” 

There came a sigh, and you steeled yourself to remain calm for what was to follow. No one’s heart ought to be beating as fast as yours was at 10 am. 

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been MIA this week. Work has been hectic, and I’ve had a lot going on, but I should’ve checked in more.” 

“Yes, you should have.” There was another bout of silence, then a drawn-out breath shared by you and JJ. You knew for this conversation to lead anywhere, you needed to give leeway. But you were hurt and still harboured anger towards JJ, enough to leave her sitting in the static atmosphere for a few more seconds. 

“You’re right.” She finally relented, sounding surer than she had been in the last few minutes. There was a bit of shuffling coming from JJ’s end of the call before everything stilled. “I was stupid and blindsided by unimportant things when my attention should have been on you. I should have called. I should have come over and comforted you and kept you safe after everything that happened. There are so many things I should have said and done, but I’m calling now and asking for just a fraction of forgiveness. Let me make it up to you.” 

“And how do you plan on doing that?” you asked, waves of curiously eroding the shores of lasting anger. 

“There’s this thing…”

“Oh well, that changes everything. A thing. Why didn’t you say that earlier? That makes everything okay then.” You were sure she could hear the roll of your eyes in your bit-off tone. 

“My mom’s coming to town next week and I’m being forced to host a luncheon, or what a normal person would call a barbeque.” She paused momentarily, taking a deep breath before rushing through the rest of her request. “I thought you could come along as my date so I could avoid all the badgerings over my lack of love life.” 

“Let me get this right,” you began with a humourless laugh. “To make up for not being there when I needed you, you want me to do you a favour by pretending to be your date so your family and friends don’t pester you?” 

“It doesn't sound so great when you say it like that.” 

“Probably because it isn’t,” you stated matter of factly, the amusement peeking through the cracks of your tone. 

“Free food.” 

“Not happening.” 

“Good company.” 

“I'm assuming you’re dubbing yourself the so-called good company?”

“You like my company!” JJ feigned offence so well that you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I tolerate it at best,” you stated, failing to hold back a smile. “It’s still a hard no.” 

“I’ll pick you up and drop you back home.” 

This particular clause in the imaginary contract piqued your interest. For reasons unknown, the image of JJ being at your beck and call, wanting your company at her side so badly she’d go out of her way to make it happen, elicited a fuzzy feeling in your chest. A week away from her was good. It was the breathing space you needed to realise things had to change. And as unconventional as it may be, perhaps this was the opportunity to enforce the change you strived for. 

“Will you at least consider it?” 

“Fine,” you dramatically sighed, dropping your body back on your bed and looking at the barren ceiling. 

The conversation came to a natural close after JJ graced you with more details of her week, this time holding little back. She asked question after question, making it silently known your morning would be hers. Your allotted time to make coffee and sip on it also belonged to her, and try as you might have, though you tried little, there was nothing to be done about the rather annoying fact you quite clearly did crave JJ’s company after going so long without it. So you allowed time to spill through your fingers and words to flow from your mouth. It didn't sting or hurt when it was time to part ways. You didn’t yearn for anything more. It was nice: being content with the mediocre. 

The following week, you hoped for more of the same. Finally, you were happy to settle for normal, but the week presented nothing of the sort. First, the box of chocolates came, waiting for you outside your apartment on Monday evening. Innocent enough. Then came the bouquet of flowers the following Tuesday that you discovered within the walls of your apartment, sitting idly and beautifully on your kitchen counter. You pondered on the time JJ must have set aside to hand deliver the array of thalictrums, tulips and gardenias, wanting so badly to place meaning to the gift that was left to coerce you into agreeing to accompany JJ next weekend. 

Buds took root in the soil of your heart, and ever-present weeds of affection sprouted. Thwacking away at the blooms, knowing the conditions were no longer suitable for sustaining a garden of pathetic hope, you placed the second gift JJ bestowed upon you in a cream vase you found locked away under your sink. 

Placed by the window, the sun bled colour through petals like stained glass the following Wednesday morning, a bright sight to gape at whilst mindlessly stirring milk into coffee. 

That evening, as you swept through the doors of your apartment, you fiddled with a parcel left in your mailbox. It was no bigger than your palm, neatly wrapped in Kraft paper. Attached was a note written for Saturday. The handwriting gave away who had sent the gift but did nothing to alleviate the boding curiosity running rampant in your belly. 

Under the brown coverings was a black box, its contents half unmasked from the lid taking the brunt end of your less than gentle treatment. It was a bracelet. A dainty thing comprised of thin gold chains looped together and delicately placed opposite the clasp was a single tiny diamond. It was perfect. It was too much. 

Pulling your phone out, clicking JJ’s contact highlighted under favourites, you listened to the rings chime by your ear. You reached her voicemail, and having been unprepared to leave a strongly worded message, you hung up, navigating your way to your text chain, only to be greeted by three dots. 

17:30 (JJ) - On a case. But no, I’m not returning it. I’m not taking it back. You’re keeping it, and if you choose to come with me on Saturday (which you should), you’ll wear it. 

17:31 - It’s too much, JJ. 

17:31 (JJ) - No, it’s not. If anything, it’s not enough. 

17:32 - I’m hiding it in your bag next time I see you. 

17:33 (JJ) - Can you accept the gift like a normal person and say thank you?

17:34 - No. 

17:35 (JJ) - The bracelet stays with you. You deserve to be spoiled. So, suck it up cause I’ve got to go. 

And just like that, you were alone. A sappy smile in place, standing in your kitchen gazing at your pretty flowers and your pretty bracelet. It was right about then that you realised how utterly fucked you were. There wasn’t a force on earth strong enough to hold you back from attending Saturday’s luncheon as JJ’s honorary date. 

Questions of motives and intentions sprouted fast in your mind like pockets of unruly weeds. Doubt reared its head, peeking through the cracks of cheap blinders fabricated on broken dreams. Once upon a time, you may have tricked yourself into believing your own delusions. JJ felt the same way you did. That’s why she called you at ungodly hours for pleasure and only that. JJ searched for opportunity after opportunity to be in your company, and that’s why she ignored you for a whole week. You really had been blinded by love.  

You greeted the petulant childlike dreams with the fortification of your guard. There would be no more longing, pining, or losing yourself in a make-believe future you thought you could see through the rose-tinted lenses of JJ’s unreadable gaze. There would be no mistake about it, when Saturday arrived, you would play your part, and you would do no more than that. 

By Thursday evening, you were convinced the gifts had stopped. Sluggishly trailing upstairs after a tiresome day and unlocking your apartment, nothing awaited you. It was both a relief and a hard-to-admit disappointment. Surely, through some type of psychic link, JJ must have known she’d swayed your better judgment and swindled you into agreeing to her terms. 

Of course, no such thing existed, and the blonde was very much still on the train of buying her way back into your heart. You discovered this when sitting down, scrolling through the endless list of restaurants on delivery apps. The options were vast, and your indecisive mind was too worn out to take on the challenge of picking which cuisine spoke most to your palette, let alone what you wanted off the menu if you ever managed to dwindle the options down to one. 

Your fridge was barren, and the contents of your cupboards were mainly noodles and dried foods that didn’t sound all that appetising, given that you’d have to find the energy to move to the kitchen and engage in making something. So, after thirty minutes of idle scrolling and scornful glances at your kitchen, you gave up, choosing to sit in the glum of adulthood and responsibility. 

At that precise moment of defeat, a buzzing rang from beside your door. You weren’t expecting anyone and most friends knew the code to let themselves in so they wouldn’t ring up. Maybe they had the wrong apartment? 

Another buzz. 

Huffing, you stood and walked over to the intercom. The quality on the screen was grainy, but you saw the delivery driver clear enough, hands filled with bags of food as a motorcycle sat idly behind him. 

“I think you might have the wrong apartment,” you said, ignoring the pang of hunger that shot through your belly. “I can buzz you in, though.” 

He held a receipt up to his face, scanning it momentarily. “Second floor. Apartment five?”

“Yes.” 

“Well then, this stuff is for you,” he declared, motioning to the bags he had in hand. 

“Come on up,” you sighed, admitting defeat. 

When the food arrived, you apologised to the delivery driver, realising he was carrying not one, not two, but three bags filled with containers of food. The waiting time, plus the journey up flights of stairs, can’t have been enjoyable, and you felt bad for only being able to offer a sympathetic smile as consolation. The guilt reduced once your eyes landed on the receipt and you discovered two things. One: JJ was indeed the one to send the surplus of food. And two: she’d left a hefty tip that more than made up for the inconvenience. 

Aware the blonde may still be busy on a case you didn’t bother calling. 

18:40- You know I can’t eat all of this, right?

18:46 (JJ) - Is that an invitation to come and help? 

18:47- Are you going to make me ask, or would you rather I not fit into the dress I’ve picked for this Saturday? 

18:47 (JJ)- On my way! 

18:56 (JJ)- Wait… WAS THAT A YES TO COMING? 

19:00- Yes, Jennifer Jareau, I’ll be your date for your family BBQ. 

19:04 (JJ)- You know I only like it when you use my full name when your mid orgasm ): 

19:05- If you crash whilst texting and driving, then you’ll be lucky if you ever get to see me again, let alone touch me. 

19:09 (JJ)- Texting + driving = no sex. Noted. 

19:10- I’m eating all the spring rolls. You don’t deserve any. 

Not even ten minutes later, JJ barged in, reaffirming your theories regarding texting and driving. Additionally, it led you to believe she’d picked up speeding as a habit outside of work. You were about ready to scold her when you turned to the door to see the blonde in a bit of a state. Her eyes were bulging, scouring around the kitchen, paying no mind to her hands as she yanked the keys out the door and came scurrying towards you, panicked. 

“Please tell me you didn’t.” 

You dropped the breath you had been holding, rolling your eyes. “The spring rolls, as well as everything else, are untouched,” you said, hiding your smile with the turn of your head. “Stop being dramatic and help me plate all this food.” 

Satisfied, JJ made her way to the counter, eyeing its contents like a hawk ready to strike. To her credit, she followed the orders, picking noodles up with chopsticks and plopping a healthy amount on each plate, divvying curried meats and sides between you. There was a reprimand on the tip of your tongue, watching rolls of crispy filo pastry piled one after the other, the distribution system far from fair. Any feelings of injustice died at the sight of JJ’s smile. 

“Happy?” you asked, sidling up to her, wanting so badly to kiss the corner of her lips, where her cheery smile sank ever so slightly into her cheek. 

“Yup,” she answered, popping the p at the end of her sentence as she grinned, handing you your plate. “Couch?”

“Sure.” You took your food and padded over to the living room, settling comfortably into plush pillows. 

There were nearly twenty shows you could list that had safely made it into the category of ‘background noise’, and you settled for throwing one of them on, happy to chat with JJ rather than get sucked into a fantasy world. 

It was the right choice because as soon as the blonde came to join you, her mouth would not close, safe from when she politely cut her sentences short to shovel food into her mouth. She was animated like this—talking about her work, friends, family, and anything really. Warmth pooled in your stomach, seeping into your bloodstream and circulating your body till all you knew was comfort. This was home. The couch, noodles, light conversation and JJ. It was all the epitome of belonging. 

The light from the TV abruptly dimmed. An ‘Are you still watching?’ message appeared on the screen, bathing empty glasses, plates and take-out boxes that had migrated from the kitchen to your coffee table in a tinted red glow. 

At the exact same moment, your and JJ’s eyes landed on the screen and then shot back to one another. Laughter rumbled through your chests at the sore sight of guilty lopsided smiles. It seemed you both had lost track of time, too focused on idle chatter. 

Once the excitement had died down, JJ moved to stand. “I don’t think we ever were watching,” she muttered, shooting you a mischievous smirk as she walked towards the door. 

“You know,” you drawled, eyeing JJ speculatively. “I hear it’s usually good manners to say goodbye to the host before you leave.” 

She glanced back, mouth set in a firm line, giving you a specific look that translated directly to ‘Are you serious?’ and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I’m getting something from my bag if you must know.” And she did just that. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a black box similar to the one you received on Wednesday, only this one was slightly bigger and flatter. 

“I’ve already agreed to Saturday JJ. I don't need any more bribes.” 

“That’s not-” she cut herself off, shaking her head and returning to the couch. “Just open it already,” she ordered, plopping beside you. Despite her carefree persona, there was no mistaking the nervousness to JJ as she bit at the side of her mouth, waiting for you to take the proffered gift. 

“Alright, alright.” You raised both hands with a grin, surrendering and taking the box from her hand, hoping to dispel some of her anxieties. “No need to get feisty.” 

She continued to fidget, your teasing going right over her head as you drew your eyes away from her ringing fingers to the lid of the black box. It bore the same mark as the one you’d previously received, a local jeweller by the looks of it, but not one you recognised. 

The lid came off with a pop of trapped air, and underneath lay a familiar sight. You recognised the gold chain, simple and elegant, but where a single gem was placed on your bracelet, on this necklace, lay a cluster of small diamonds, all circling a polished ruby. 

“JJ, it’s-” you gasped. 

“I swear if you say too much again,” she rushed to say. 

“Actually,” you went on, straightening your neck to face the blonde. “I was going to say beautiful.” 

Her face lit up. A bright smile pulled at the contours of her cheeks as her eyes fixed solely on you. 

“Yes, it is.” 

A shy smile blossomed over your lips, and your cheeks flushed with the distinct impression she wasn’t talking about the necklace anymore. Tension grew heated in the silence, leaving you breathless as you darted your attention back to the little box in your hand, thumbing over the golden chain. 

“Let me?” JJ asked, and you watched as her fingers slithered into view beside your own. 

Cautiously looking up at her, seeing hope beam so openly over her features, you nodded. 

She took care in taking the necklace from its home, running the chain through her fingers as she pulled it through two divots puncturing velvet. She let the chain hang between her fingers, holding it up and waiting patiently for you to turn. 

“Oh, right,” you muttered, shifting your position so you had one leg tucked under the other, your back facing JJ. 

There was some shuffling behind you before you felt the warm press of JJ’s chest against your shoulder blades, her fingers tickling your neck as she swept your hair aside. Fighting to keep composure, you swallowed down the beginnings of a whimper. 

Appearing to be in no rush, JJ brought both hands around your head and rested her palms over your collarbones. You shivered as the cold metal fell against your heated skin, failing to ignore the way JJ had paused to let the small gem dangle between your breasts. 

Her warm breath grazed your neck, and you could feel the tip of her nose press against the underside of your ear. Arousal bubbled low in your stomach, fizzling beneath the fluttering butterflies that had claimed your body as their play place, and a week without JJ’s touch suddenly started feeling a lot more like years. You craved her kisses, her hands, her tongue keeping you vocal from between your legs. The memories were coming waves, pulling you backwards both physically and metaphorically to JJ. 

Finally, the necklace was dragged along your chest, and JJ leaned back to clasp it shut. The brief reprieve from the mounting traction you felt towards the woman behind you was, unfortunately, short-lived, and it wasn't long before the soft pad of fingers grazed the line of your jaw. The touch was light and easy to dissuade if you so chose. You could push against the angling of your head and remain an unwilling participant in this nefarious scheme JJ was conjuring up. 

Instead, you closed your eyes and allowed JJ to guide your face to hers. 

The air was thick, and silence rang through the room, disrupted only by your bated breath and hastening heartbeat. A kiss ghosted over your parted lips. All it would take to bridge the gap between you was one minute move forward. 

She smelt like beef and bean sprouts and burning desire, but you knew the taste of lips only promised regret. 

With one long exhale, you pulled away. 

“I should put the food away,” you announced, leaning forward to grab the plates and cutlery off the coffee table. Standing and moving to the kitchen, you didn't look back, too focused on berating yourself between stilled breaths. 

You’d been in your apartment long enough to know the water always ran cold for a few seconds before eventually shifting to a temperature sufficient to clean your dishes. However, this didn’t stop you from plunging your hands under the icy waters. It was a needed relief, and the pull back to reality was instant, allowing you to see the mistake you’d almost made. Still, the feel of JJ’s lips haunted you. 

Her presence was felt more than ever as she appeared behind you, and you hoped, for the umpteenth time, that your better judgment would emerge victorious in the fight against clouded lust. But your restraint was pulled taut and on the brink of snapping. You knew if JJ pushed, you’d break. 

For someone consumed by thoughts of another, you paid little mind to the person in question, leaving yourself vulnerable and ripe for the taking. 

The tap spluttered, and a messy display of steaming water burst through the faucet. The shock pulled you from your anxieties, though another surprise awaited you when JJ crept up closer behind you, sliding her hands around your waist and resting them over your belly. 

“I can help,” she whispered hotly into your ear.

Your full-bodied shiver left JJ feeling emboldened. Her fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. Her wicked smirk pressed against your neck. And her chest pressed firm against your back, locking you in place with the edge of the sink cutting into your hips. 

The trail of her fingers against your stomach was scorching, never settling on one spot long before moving to another. Too lost in the sensations coaxing your body into a state of relaxation, you scarcely reacted to JJ flipping you around and settling your thighs over the soft curve of the sink. 

Her tongue slid into your mouth with a sense of urgency as she savoured the taste of you with languid strokes, moans vibrating from her chest and tunnelling down into your throat. 

You held both hands to JJ’s chest, applying enough pressure to push her away, maintaining it to prevent her from getting close again. You couldn’t do this. Not again. “It’s late, and we’ve both got to get up early for work tomorrow.” 

Even if this was for the best, it was hard not to leave caution to the wind, take JJ’s hand and guide her straight to her bedroom, especially when she looked so much like a kicked puppy with the pout she was sporting. 

“I’ll see you Saturday,” you said with a sorrowful smile, jumping down and ushering her towards the door. “And JJ?”

She turned instantly, looking half-ready to run back into your apartment before her smile faltered, “Yes?” 

“Thank you for tonight.” You dug your chin into your chest, peering down at your newly acquired necklace. “And this, and the food, and the flowers,” you tried hard not to choke on your own words, “and well, everything.” 

“I’d do anything for you.” 

There was so much sincerity in the way JJ had said it. It left no space for doubt. The only problem was that she seemed pained by the admission, so much so her eyes looked glassy and far off. 

You wanted to ask her what she meant, why she seemed so saddened by her own words, but by the time you found your voice, she was gone. 

Taglist: @sincerestlove @hot4milfs @chestnutninny @theoneforhobbies @lez-talk1 @obsessedwjill @wastdstime @hopelesslyfallenninlove @luna7-7 @fanficreadinglesbian @ara-a-bird @blueredg52 @blkmxrvel @allofphii @coffee-is-my-oxygen @marinawolf @iheartdilfssss @spencerreidsknee @adainesfroggieboggy | Click here to be added to the series taglist

[frunbuns]

I think one of the saddest things about this season is that during the final episode I just wanted it to end so I could get it over with

[winepresswrath]

I'm enjoying amc loustat way more this season, mostly because I feel like they're letting Louis match Lestat's level of obsession and "don't drag anyone who is not at least an armand level freak into this." Last season I enjoyed Louis-Claudia and Lestat qua Lestat but loustat and lestat-claudia especially fell flat for me. Even lestatoinette disappointed! And I only like lestat/antoine as a vehicle for loustat drama and a sad sad case study on the hold depressive art majors have on Lestat (nicki.remix.uwillneverbehim.mp3), so they really had to dig deep to underwhelm me on that front. However the one-two-three punch of "was she worth it," "even now i'm still the only one you trust," and "show me the only way you know how to love," has worked some dark magic upon me. Louis isn't going to get well because he doesn't want to get well. He wants Lestat but he can't admit to it on account of his general inability to admit to his own complicity in the horrors. Losing Lestat almost but not quite tips him over the edge into acknowledging he wanted to keep him, but he still can't live with it so in the absence of the real thing he hallucinates a fictional Lestat to offload all of his frustrated guilty desire onto. What else was he going to do? acknowledge his own feelings and agency? admit to himself that he's hurting because he lost something that mattered and focus on putting Claudia first even though he's fucked up about it? impossible. Sick and twisted! Good for them.

[helenofblackthorns]

can't wait for twp in a couple years & for it to be offhandedly mentioned Jace plays piano or something because I WILL be like "Alastair used to play piano 😢😭😔" and have to close the book & collect myself over half a sentence

[x-neurotoxin-x]

At the same time if we're killing off toga and Shig can we kill off dabi now too? I know a fuck ton of ppl hate when somebody says that and I'm sorry but keeping him alive in those inhumane and ngl torturous conditions is worse imo than that happened to toga and shig. If you're already killing off villains that are "too far gone" at least kill off the one that's literally trapped in a hell body and being kept alive by machines

[chirpsythismorning]

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More Than Words by Extreme

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[acanthemp3]

i cant go more than 3 years without some cruel and unusual fate befalling the exact same molar and we're finally putting it out of its misery as soon as this surgeon can get me in (in like a month) gruesome details in the tags bc i love to overshare

[littleapocalypsekitten]

Giant Meteor 2024: Just End It Already!

[alatariel-galadriel]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji Characters: Fushiguro Megumi, Itadori Yuuji Additional Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Acespec Fushiguro Megumi, he has a first kiss and a minor crisis, that's it that's the story, he's crushing so hard and is being so incredibly sixteen about it, meanwhile Yuuji's just happy to be here Summary:

Yuji sits up and leans in, cautious and slow, like Megumi is something that could be scared away if he moves too fast. His blood rushes in his ears, drowning out all other sounds except his traitorously racing heart. Yuji’s lips brush his, light and tentative, before the kiss deepens. It’s—not what he expected.

Megumi experiences his first kiss; AKA the mortifying ordeal of being sixteen and communicating with your partner

[fiovske]

jesus christ you guys were NOT kidding about how bad the last few seasons of veep were huh

[dear-in-the-headlights]

I miss blockbuster and I miss dvds. reject modernity embrace tradition

[muttfangs]

the fact that I have to. literally HAVE TO work 40hrs/wk to exist is 1000000% ruining my ability to feel like a well-adjusted human with a pleasant, compassionate personality and turning me into a suicidal black hole of despair and pain I don't even have like. 'the worst' situation or job either. my mental state is chronically fucking frayed and I don't ever get enough recovery time for it to heal or rest. It's either: 1.) work most of my time against my will and have zero social life outside of work so I can keep working without burning out or 2.) work most of my time against my will and have a social life but when im at work feel like a tar pit of 'I want to kill myself and not come back because this is so emotionally painful that im forcibly wasting my precious life at this fucking job instead of being around people I love who also have limited precious time on this earth and doing things I enjoy that enrich my experiences while im here' coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool. no good options. fuck me.

[dirt-str1der]

Yaoi has poisoned all of your fucking brains !!

[whsprings]

I want to cry but my eyeballs have long forgotten how

[original-punks]

2 hours is a new record

[magic-can]

this just got a thousand times funnier