#no matter how hard I try to move past it she's still digging it up

[navy-heart]

God why is my mother such a terrible human being

[covenofagatha]

I adore your writing so much omg.

Agatha/Reader with a size kink and maybe include riding somewhere in there :))

I'm so tired lmao

writing size kink is lowkey really hard but hopefully i somewhat got it right

decided to combine this one with the priest!agatha fic cause i thought it was hot

literally going straight to hell for this 🫠🫣

Forgive me, Father (part 2)

You go back to confession after you can't stop thinking about Father Agatha

Word count: 2600

Warnings: religion kink, religious sex, strap-on, fingering, corrupt priest Agatha, naive and innocent and virgin reader, dubcon, slight size kink, probably some other filth

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last confession,” you say, just those words causing the memory of what happened last time to heat through you. 

The priest was already inside the booth when you came in and didn’t say a word even after your door was shut so you were forced to start. 

You still didn’t know who was in there next to you, but a part deep inside you is hoping for Father Agatha. 

The priest shifts in the booth and you bite your lip. “What do you have to confess, child?” 

It’s a man’s voice. 

Your face falls and now you have to come up with something to confess for because you don’t think he’ll be as understanding as she was. 

“I, um, the other day…” you start, completely fishing for something, when there’s a light through the partition. The door to the other half has been opened and you hear faint mutterings. 

The door closes and the priest clears his throat. “Excuse me, my child, but I must attend to an urgent matter.” 

“Oh,” you say, a little shocked. You’ve never known that they could just walk out of a confession like that. 

“Don’t fret. Father Agatha will be in shortly to hear the rest of it. She is a new wonderful addition to our parish and you’re in good hands,” he praises and you blush furiously. 

Good hands indeed. 

You cough. “We’ve met.” You can still feel her leg against your private parts – your pussy – and her fingers digging into your hips. The way pleasure rolled over your body because of her. The way her dark eyes tempted you to take a bite of the sweet, forbidden fruit of desire. 

The priest says something else that you don’t hear before getting out. You’re alone with your thoughts until the door opens again in a few minutes. 

Just from knowing that it’s her makes your heart get faster and your body starts to feel affected in the way only she makes it. 

“Hi, angel,” she says in her delightfully low voice. 

“Father Agatha,” you breathe. Her chuckle is sinful.

You can hear her moving around and her robes shuffle. You remember her pulling them up to her hips to show herself to you. “What do you have to confess, child?” 

“I can’t stop thinking about the other day,” you admit. “I even gave in and tried to touch myself like how you showed me, but I couldn’t get to that thing at the end. Like last time.”

You think you can hear her smirking. “You couldn’t orgasm? Poor thing, you must be so hot and bothered.” 

You squirm, not even trying to hide it. You’ve been so needy the past few days and you don’t know what to do. “I need help to get rid of these thoughts. I’ve tried praying and I did all the Hail Mary’s you said to but I feel like I’m still being corrupted. You said that you could help.” Your voice comes out whinier than intended but you don’t care. 

“I can help, my child. Why don’t you come back over here?”

This time, you need no extra convincing. You slide into her booth, sinking down to your knees already. You hear a sharp intake of air from her and she reaches out to brush your hair out of her face. 

“What do you want?” She asks and your eyes are pleading as they look up at her from the floor. 

“I want you to cleanse me of these thoughts,” you beg. This is a sin, you know that, and you don’t want to go to Hell. You’ll do anything to stop this heat inside you. 

Father Agatha tilts her head to the side to think about what she can do. “I don’t know if I can cleanse them entirely,” she says finally and you want to cry. “But I can quench them for now.” 

“How?” You ask, barely above a whisper. 

You hold your breath when she begins to pull up her robes again and reaches down to pull something out from the fabric between her legs. Your mouth falls open. You’re not sure what it is, but it’s long, thick, and purple. She grabs ahold of the base close to her skin and shakes it a little. 

“What is that?” It both terrifies you and makes the throbbing inside you a little worse. 

“Have you ever seen a penis?” She asks bluntly and your ears burn. 

“Of course not! I’m not married! But that’s not–” You know that she doesn’t have one, you saw her pussy last time. And you at least know that they’re not purple. 

She chuckles and spits down onto the thing, using her hand to spread the saliva over it. Your body betrays you and your breathing quickens. What is happening to you?

“No, this isn’t a penis,” she agrees. “It’s a special toy that has been blessed by God. If you orgasm around this, it will stop those thoughts.” 

You bite your lip, staring at the toy. “How is it supposed to fit inside me? It’s so big.” Her grin grows wider if possible. 

“We’ll make it fit,” she promises but it does little to quell the fear. 

“Will it hurt?” You ask timidly. 

Father Agatha tilts her from side to side. “Maybe a little. You’ll just have to get yourself ready.” Before you can ask how, she answers. “It will help if you stretch yourself out on your fingers first.”

Your mouth drops open. Last time was the first time you’d ever touched down there and you had just rubbed your clit over your underwear. The past three days, you had only also done that and tried to move against your pillow, no skin-on-skin contact. And now she wants you to put a finger inside?

“Is that even allowed?” You ask hushedly. “Isn’t that a sin?” 

She finally stops stroking the toy and reaches the hand out to cup your cheek. You can feel the stickiness on her palm and the sudden urge to lick it flits through your mind. 

You seriously need help. 

“Why don’t you let me do it, then? My hands are tools of the Lord. Nothing more holier. Let me help you.” 

You nod slowly and she smirks, patting her thighs. You get up from your knees, wincing at the soreness, and sit on her lap again, the ache inside you only growing worse from being this close. 

The toy is laying against your stomach and it’s a soft, spongy texture. It feels weird but you can’t help but imagine what it’ll be like inside you. 

Father Agatha’s hand slides under the skirt you’re wearing to touch you over your underwear and your hips jump. It’s a very different feeling than your own. 

She groans as she moves her fingers up and down, pressing the fabric against you, and you can feel how soaked it is. 

“Father,” you gasp out when she rubs at your clit. The sensation is so very new and feels so very good. You want her to keep doing it. 

“You’re such a special girl,” Father Agatha coos. “So pure, so innocent. Such a devout follower.”

You wonder if this is how the Virgin Mary felt when the angel came down to tell her that God had hand picked her. 

Or how Jesus felt when he was tempted by the Devil in the desert during those forty days. 

She slides your underwear to the side and you think you’ve died and gone to heaven when her bare hand cups you. 

Your head falls back and you let out a long moan. She traces up and down, collecting your wetness, and swirling it against your clit. You clutch onto her shoulders like she's a lifeline. 

You can’t believe you’ve never done this before. 

“Feels good, angel?” She asks, her voice husky. You nod desperately, but tense when she probes a fingertip at your hole. “Just relax.” 

You try to and you take a deep breath, but when she begins to push in, you clench so tightly you’re worried it’s going to hurt her finger. 

“It’s okay,” she coaxes, thumb rubbing your clit again. That helps you loosen up, but she doesn’t move, letting you adjust. “Your tiny little pussy has never had anything in it. But we’ll get there.” 

You bite your lip and give her the go ahead. She moves an inch and you gasp. You can’t seem to let go and unwind and she frowns. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, face turning red with humiliation. 

She tuts sotfly. “It’s okay, angel. I know what it must feel like. Why don’t you say one of your prayers? It will help take your mind off this.”

You nod, meeting her eyes that look like darkness has swallowed them whole. “Our Father, who art in heaven-” 

She pushes the rest of her finger inside you and you momentarily lose the ability to speak. 

The intrusion is not unwelcome and she experimentally curls her finger, tapping onto something inside of you that makes you whimper. She smirks wickedly and does it again. 

Your hips roll. 

“Father,” you moan, and when she keeps doing it and rubs at your clit, your entire body spasms. 

“Keep going, angel,” she urges. 

It takes a lot of effort to regain your thoughts. “Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done-” She waits for you to get a few lines out before moving all the way back out and pushing back in. 

You squeal and grab onto her tighter. She gives you a look and you know what it means. She waits until you start talking again to begin moving faster. 

“On earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” 

Father Agatha pulls out of you and you groan at the emptiness but you’re quickly even more full when she pushes two fingers in. 

Your head drops forward onto her shoulder and you mewl loudly. 

“Too much, Father,” you cry. She rubs your clit frantically and doesn’t move until you slowly begin to loosen around her. Once you adjust, it feels even better and when she curls them to touch that special spot and –

– God. 

You don’t even feel bad about using the Lord’s name in vain. 

“So perfect, your tiny pussy feels so good around my fingers,” Father Agatha pants. “Never felt anything so tight. Can’t wait to fill you up with my big cock, watch you stretch around it.” 

Her filthy words make you flush but the heat inside you gets worse. Why do you find that so hot?

“Lead us not into temptation,” you start again, the irony not lost on you. It seems the priest also gets it because she twists her fingers with an evil smirk and it makes you whimper. You can feel yourself on that ledge you were on last time, the one that is an all-consuming wave of pleasure, and you’re just about to tip over. “And deliver us from evil.” 

“Amen,” Father Agatha finishes the prayer for you, swiping roughly at your clit and thrusting deeply. 

You orgasm all over her fingers and it feels even more intense than the last time. She gently keeps moving her fingers while you come down from your high and you rest your forehead against hers. Instead of feeling satisfied when she pulls them out, you only feel more empty and needy.

“Do you think you’re ready to take my special toy, angel?” She asks, moving her hand that’s wet with you up and down. You gulp and look at it. “It will feel so good, I promise.” 

“Okay,” you whisper and her smirk makes you feel things. She helps you hold yourself up while she positions the tip at your entrance after rubbing it through your folds a few times. You slide down the tiniest bit and you keen. 

If you thought her fingers were a tight fit, this is something entirely new. Father Agatha whispers sweet nothings, circling your clit again to make you less tense, and she slowly helps guide you down. 

“Oh, my God,” you moan. She is so big inside you and it’s stretching you out more than you thought possible. 

“Just Father Agatha is fine,” she remarks coyly, eyes never moving away from watching you take her in. “Angel, you’re so perfect, you’re taking my big cock so well in your tiny pussy. You look so delicious wrapped around me like that.” 

Hearing her talk about the toy like it’s actually part of her makes you grow even hotter and you finally make it to the bottom, the entire thing inside you. 

You feel so full; you think you can feel her in your ribcage. 

“Can I move?” She asks and you nod shakily. Her hands help you bounce up and down, just little movements at first, but gradually turning into sliding you to the top and then back to bottoming out. 

The burn inside you gives way to a wonderful feeling and you can feel her dragging the toy, her cock, against every ridge and groove inside you. 

Father Agatha groans when you start to take the initiative and ride without so much of her help. You’re chasing the pleasure that’s building up inside you and it’s so much better than anything you’d had before. 

“Look at you, angel, taking my big cock so well in your tiny pussy. If you weren’t such a good girl, I would’ve assumed you’ve done this before. But you’re so perfect and pure and innocent and God’s gift to the world,” she says, voice rough. “Do you like my cock?” 

You nod harder than you ever have in your life. “Feels so good, Father. This can’t be a sin.” 

Father Agatha shakes her head. “It’s not, angel. Anytime you feel that heat inside you and you think those dirty thoughts, come to me and I’ll help you. It’s not a sin if you’re with a priest.” 

She begins slamming her hips up into you as you drive down to meet her thrusts. She rubs your clit even harder now and you completely convulse all over the toy, the pleasure crashing through you so much more greatly than even before, clenched around her fingers. 

You feel like King Solomon, chasing after true gratification, but unlike him whose search is futile, you’ve found it in the arms of a priest. 

You slump against her, who softly strokes your back while you regain your strength. 

“How do you feel now?” She asks. “Are those dirty thoughts you were having gone?” 

You shift and wince at the toy still inside you. She lifts you up so it can slip out. You feel thoroughly ruined and you just want to take a nap. No more heat in you at all. “Yes, they are, Father. Thank you.” 

She pats your thighs and you stand up, blood rushing back to your stiff legs. 

“Glad I could help, child. It’s my duty as a priest to help you strengthen your relationship with God, and if this is what it takes with you, I’m more than willing to do it whenever you need.”

You run a hand through your hair and think about it. “We might need to do this a few more times,” you admit. You still don’t know how to take care of the problem yourself, and like she said, it’s okay if it’s with a priest. 

She smirks like the Devil incarnate. “I look forward to it.” 

[a-hazbin-reader]

hey ! Loooove your x readers ! is there any chance I could request an alastor x fem reader who has nightmares ?? :o

Maybe she wakes up from nightmares repetitively, and one night just can’t stand laying awake staring at the ceiling of her room anymore , so she goes down to the lobby, and surprise, her crush alastor is sitting there reading in the semi-ish dark (with some jazz playing in the background on his staff ofc 🌚)

And maybe in his own twisted ways, comforts the reader (and maybe even reads her to sleep on the couch👀??)

Ugh, I gotta-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None, I think???

Description: ☝️⬆️

You awoke with a desperate cry, your body lurching forward in one last desperate attempt to escape your nightmare

You're frantically feeling yourself and the bedding around you, digging your nails into the blankets

It takes you a few moments to realize that you're safe in your bed and not stuck in your nightmare

There's tears in your eyes, and your entire body shakes as you try to reassure yourself that it was just a nightmare

Your past can't get you anymore

Your heart doesn't stop hammering in your chest no matter how hard you try to choke down your emotions

After laying in bed for awhile and failing to get back to sleep, you decide to get up and walk around the hotel

You're surprised when you get to the lobby to see someone else is awake and occupying the space

Less so surprised to see that it's Alastor awake, reading and listening to the radio in the dim light

He's totally relaxed, obviously enjoying his alone time-you don't want to intrude, you should head back to your room-

You barely make it another step before his eyes snap towards you from over his book, his relaxed smile turning into a coy grin

"Well well~ Couldn't sleep, my dear~?"

Even when you're reeling from your nightmares, his natural charm still makes you feel flustered, and your heart soaks up the attention

"Y-yeah...you could say that..."

Alastor seems to sense your unease and moves to make room on the couch next to him, a small cup of tea appearing in front of you

He doesn't comment on the blush on your face as you sit down next to him, feeling a small comfort in his warmth even with the space between you two

You're lost in thought, your nightmares replaying in your mind and making you tense when you suddenly hear Alastor speak

"A nightmare, was it? I wonder what about..."

You can't help but snap your head towards him, shocked that he read you so easily, you hadn't realized it was so obvious

"How did you know I had a nightmare?"

He hums playfully and looks at you with a knowing smile, obviously proud of himself

"Just a guess, but thank you for confirming it for me."

You can't help but roll your eyes and let out a less than ladylike snort, momentarily feeling better

He doesn't push for details and you don't give him anything more than that, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence

At some point, his arm ends up behind you, claws gently scratching the back of your neck in a way that has your entire body tingling deliciously

You don't know when your eyes close or how you end up curled against him, but you're too tired to feel embarrassed about it

You start to feel yourself falling back asleep and right back into your nightmare, forcing yourself to stay awake

Of course, you would go right back to that terror...why should you get any proper sleep?

Alastor immediately senses that you're fully awake again, able to hear your heart beating rapidly in fear, see the way you fight back tears

If he could frown then he would, why should you be afraid of anything when he's here to protect you?

Just when you go to push off him, Alastor pulls your head back to his shoulder. Not taking his eyes off of his book to save you both some dignity

You reluctantly wrap your arms around him, you tell yourself it's just because it's more comfortable that way, not because it's nice to cuddle him

He's reading to you, the sound of his voice, along with the close proximity to him making your head spin

How are you supposed to hide your feelings for him when he does stuff like this?

Luckily, your face is buried in his shoulder, so the only giveaway for your blushing would be the heat radiating from your face

You're not really even paying attention to what he's reading, slowly relaxing against him as your eyes flutter shut and you breathe in his scent

As you fall asleep, you miss the way Alastor's smile softens when he looks down at you, closing his book suddenly and resting his chin on your head

He has something much better to do with his time

He stays with you the rest of the night, soothing you while you sleep whenever you happen to whimper, cry, shake, or even frown

His hands gently stroke your cheek as he squeezes you in reassurance, doing his best not to wake you

"Hush now, my dear... You're in good hands, I won't let anything harm you."

Apparently, it works because you relax and sigh in relief each time, no longer trembling and mumbling to yourself

Part of him feels pity for you, having suffered so much that you can't even find peace in your dreams

Another part of him enjoys that he gets to be there for you right now, hoping that this will become something regular

The thought surprises him, but he likes it

You're still asleep by the time the others start waking up, Alastor pretending to be reading his book again

He shakes his head when Vaggie and Charlie move to take you to your room, worried about you waking up next to Alastor or unintentionally irritating him

They're baffled when Alastor simply puts a finger to his lips and holds you a little closer to him, using his staff to push them back

"She's had a rough night, it would do us well to let her sleep a little longer."

Nobody says anything but they all share glances that show they're thinking the same thing

W T F happened between you two last night

You're embarrassed when you wake up later, nearly falling off the couch in your haste to get away from Alastor

"Ah, you're finally awake~!"

You can feel how hot your cheeks are as you apologize to him over and over again, you're so mortified you could die

You don't let him get a word in as you back away from him, slowly walking backwards to the stairs

You've got one foot on the stairs before you suddenly hear Alastor's voice from behind you

"Do come find me again if those pesky nightmares persist, won't you?"

You look back at him in surprise, his gaze serious despite the teasing tone, you're too embarrassed to do anything more than nod

He watches you scramble up to your room with an amused expression, not wanting to admit to himself that he enjoyed being of use to you

Alastor hopes you have another nightmare soon, if only just so he can play the hero for you again

HERE MY LOVE

[plussizefantasia]

Troubled Hearts

Read parts One and Two here: Fluttering Hearts Unsure Hearts

Warnings: guy being creepy, threats of violence, drinking (not reader) we're getting into the angst here guys sorry

a/n: hi, hello, I'm alive sorry for falling off the face of the planet. When I went to go grab the link for part two I realized that I hadn't updated this story since JANUARY!?!?! here is my formal apology: sorry. My goal is to have parts four and five up sometime this month so I can be ready to jump into CozyTober when it starts. Anyway, much love I hope y'all are still interested in the story if not I understand.

Kili Durin x Human!Soulmate!reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Kili must hate himself, there is no other reason for why he’s putting himself through this. Months have passed since you had kind of sort of opened up to him and he couldn’t get you to do it again. He’d been spending his nights the same way, a constant presence at the bar. No matter the weather, the dwarf prince would be posted up on a stool. He slowly sipped the same pint throughout the entire evening and his eyes followed you like a hawk. 

You would have thought that his attentions would have waned by now, you’ve been busy with the bar, Brant unable to keep up in his old age. You figure that he was letting you take control. You never really planned to set down roots in Dale, it was supposed to simply be a stop on your journey. 

You had stumbled into the town late one evening and needed a place to stay, despite the tavern not being an inn and not technically having an extra room, Brant was kind enough to let you stay for the night, as long as you worked it off the next day. One night turned into a week, turned into a month and you realized just how much you enjoyed working at the tavern.

You enjoyed feeling needed, even if it was just to refill someone’s glass. You enjoyed putting in effort and watching yourself get better at all the different skills necessary for a place like this, and you enjoyed the subtle anonymity of it all. Nobody really knew why you were there and nobody had really asked either. Your past didn’t follow you and if you were lucky it never would. You had worked hard and carved out a little life for yourself here, a life that you loved.

Well, a life that you loved most of the time. Up until those nights when every man was just a little too drunk, every woman glared just a little too much and your skin felt just a little too wrong on your body. You did your best to let it all fall off your back, to push through and let yourself be lost in your work but you didn’t always succeed.

You were not sure what hour of the night it was, it seemed that within these four walls, time flew and stood still all at once. What you did know however was that you were getting sick of Roland’s jeers and jibes. You were sure that it was his way of flirting, but you had never really ascribed to the type of flirting where you tore the other person down in the hopes that they begged you to build them back up. Roland was a dick. It was as simple as that and if he thought he had a chance with you he was sorely mistaken.

He had yet to get that through his thick skull though. You balanced a tray of pints above your head with one hand and a tray of food in the other. You expertly wove in between patrons, making your way to the back where Roland and his men often gathered.

“Ah, here she is. Lovely lady with a body to match.” He didn’t wait for you to place the tray down on the tabletop next to him. He just reached his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. His hand digging into the flesh there and making you move towards him to try and get away.

“What do you think lads? Don’t we make a pretty picture?” There were slight nods from the men around you, most of them had eyes only for the ale you were still holding. You noticed that this was often the case. Roland spoke and told stories, he was loud but nobody ever really listened to him.

“I think… that I have more work to do so if you would kindly remove your arm from my waist…” You looked at him, arching an eyebrow. “Before I have to remove it for you.” 

He chuckled deeply in his throat but followed your instruction and released you.

“Alright Gents, here are your pints and your pies, anything else for tonight?” Nobody spoke up, except for a few mutters of thanks. “Well, you know where to find me if that changes.”

You made your way back up to the front of house, sliding behind your bar and releasing a deep breath.

“I don’t understand how you do it.” You look up and into the eyes of the dwarf who just spoke.

“Do what Kili?”

“How you let him treat you like… that like you belong to him.”

You bristle at this. “I belong to nobody but myself Your Highness.”

“I know this, and you know this, but the brute doesn't seem to get it.”

“The brute is manageable Kili, he and his friends give this place far too much business for me to be anything less than civil with them.”

“Civil is fine, I just don’t wish to see you get hurt.”

“I appreciate that Kee, but I can handle myself.” 

“I never thought you couldn’t, I just want you to know that you don’t have to handle everything on your own.”

“I’ve been on my own for a long time, it's not easy to give that up.” You see a customer flag you down a few tables away. “Know this, my dwarf prince, should I need protecting… you’re the one I’d ask.” You smile at Kili and pass him offering him a small smile as you get back to work.

The night continues much the same, people come and go. The group in the back gets steadily more rowdy and you glance at the clock every once in a while hoping that the hands will have moved further than they have.

You serve food and drink to several patrons throughout the night, most kind some not as much. You were being truthful with Kili when you had told him you’d come to him. You just didn't think you’d ever need to. Your past wasn't the nicest and you’d quickly learned to take care of yourself because the people who are supposed to take care of you won’t always be there when you need them to be.

The time flew by faster than you’d thought, you’d apparently been lost inside your head for most of the night. The only light was that of the candles on each table and the fireplace next to the kitchen which was miraculously still lit. You’re not sure how, it's your job to keep it going and you know that you hadn’t stoked it all night. 

The darkness outside creeps into the space and more and more people begin their journey home. All your regulars settle with you or get glared at for their insistence that they’ll pay up next time. Eventually the space empties… mostly. Roland and his friends have settled a little but they still sit vigil in the back of the space, you lost count of how many rounds they’ve had but none of them are belligerent so it couldn’t have been more than eight. 

“Y/N, Another!” One of his comrades yells toward you. You forget his name, Roland’s never-ending cycle of yes men made it difficult to learn names, so at some point, you’d stopped trying.

“I don’t know if you Gent’s noticed, but we’re closed. Go home, I’m sure your wives are wondering where you are.”

“What the old lady doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” The same man yelled out, his remark setting off a burst of laughter from his buddies.

“Come Y/N, one more round and we’ll leave when we’re done.” Roland turned his body to face you and what you imagine to be his attempt at a suave smirk graced his face. 

“Sorry boys, but closed means closed, settle your tabs and go home.” You roll your eyes at the grumbling and whining that come from the group of grown men but do not sway in your decision. One by one they come and hand you some coin, some thank you and some say nothing but all of them leave as they were told.

Roland is the last to come up, as he so often is. “I don’t know why you spend so much time here, if you were mine you’d not have to work one more day in this place.”

“Well, I’m not yours and I like working here.” You place your hand on your hips and cock one out to the side. 

“Yet.” Roland leans over the bar and licks his lips. You lean back in order to put distance between your face and his. 

“Not ever.” You firmly reply. “I am your barmaid nothing more, the sooner you get that the sooner you can move on wooing the other ladies this wonderful town has to offer.”

“Ah, but none of these other ladies stir me as much as you do.” His grin becomes sharper and he moves even closer to you. 

The space behind the bar isn’t very large, big enough for one person really, and with how far he’s leaning you can feel your back brushing against the shelves behind you. 

“The only thing I want from you Roland is payment for your tab and for you to leave.” Your voice carried the weariness that was creeping into your heart, men like Roland rarely took no for an answer. You didn’t want to have to hurt him, it would be hard to explain. 

“Such harsh words darling, I promise I’m not nearly as bad as you think I am.” He reached forward and grasped your wrist. You pulled away instinctively and his grip hardened. “I think you might even like it.” Your face screwed up and you bared your teeth ready to rip out of his hold.

“Get your hand off her.”

Your head whipped to the voice. Kili. Why was he still here? How long had he been here? How much had he seen?

“Piss off runt, this is between me and the lady.” Roland didn’t move his eyes away from you.

“Remove your hand from my One or lose it, you oaf.” Kili growled from the corner of the room. The sharp sound of metal reverberated from the space and if you thought the rage on Kili’s face was intense, it was even more striking with a sword in his grip.

Both you and Roland were looking at the dwarf now. Your lips had parted and your eyes widened. Not only because you were sure blood would be spilled tonight but because of what Kili said. A thousand thoughts ran through your head all in the same second. You had to shake yourself back to the present.

Roland’s grip on your wrist slacked a bit and you took the opportunity to bring your arm to your chest. Your eyes bounced between the two men. You looked around behind the counter, searching desperately for something you could use. You let out a breath when you caught sight of the wooden handle resting on top of a wet rag.

“Pay the lady and leave, like she asked.” Kili took a step closer to the brute his posture reminding you of a coiled snake, muscles tight underneath his skin and ready to strike. 

“I do not take orders from dwarves.” Roland’s voice had deepened, his frustration bleeding through into every syllable. His hand reached out towards the axe holstered on his belt.

“You will either leave here with your dignity, or you will not leave at all. That I can be sure of.”

“Mighty words for an imp.” Roland pulled his axe from his belt and took a step towards Kili. As much as you might like to see the two fight, and you really did.  You needed to stop this before it started. 

You grasped the knife that had been lying on the towel and firmly drove it into the counter in front of you. The noise stopped both men in their tracks and they turned their heads to you, not yet dropping their battle stances.

“Enough. I will not be cleaning any blood off these walls tonight. Roland, you're drunk and daft-  a combination no woman in her right mind would want. Leave and don’t show your face here again. There are plenty of other places to drink, choose one.” You look into his eyes as you rip the knife from the wood, pointing it towards him and gesturing towards the door. 

He grumbles but holsters his axe and begins to leave.

“Oaf, you forget something?” Kili called out to him. You cut your eyes to the dark-haired prince narrowing your gaze on him. “Or are you the type of man to run out on his debt?” 

Roland turns slowly and his hand flexes by his side. He takes a large breath before grabbing a small leather bundle from his coat pocket and throwing it up on the counter. Kili smirks and nods his head. 

Roland lets out a low growl but continues on his path, pushing past the doors and onto the street. You don’t move until he turns the corner. At which point you deflate. Your head falls forward like a puppet without strings and you take a deep breath to soothe your racing heart.

“What was that?” Your question, head still bowed.

“What?” Kili takes a step toward you and you shoot up.

“What was that Kili!?” Your chest heaves with every breath you take. “I had it handled, I don’t need you coming in here and threatening people!”

“He put his hands on you!” Kili shouts.

“So you pull your sword?! I do not need a bodyguard Kili let alone one with a temper as bad as yours.” You throw your hand up and drag one across your forehead. “Know this, Your Highness, I have no intention of being claimed by you.” Kili’s eyes grow wide and he opens his mouth to speak, “Do not think I don’t know what a One is, I have traveled these lands for a very long time.” You interrupt him. “I have been claimed by far too many men far too many times, I told you, I belong to nobody but myself now. Do you understand?” You look into his eyes, waiting for a response.

“I have no intention of claiming you, I simply wish to share my life with you.” 

“That is very sweet Kili, but you don’t me. You cannot possibly wish to spend your life with me.”

“Then let me get to know you.” He pleads, “I have never felt like this before.” He takes several steps towards you, pulling your hand into his own and looking up into your eyes. “They say that being with your One is the greatest joy a dwarrow can know. I have had a taste now, being in your space, speaking with you, hearing your laugh, and seeing you smile. It has made me feel more alive than any battle and made my heart more full than it has ever been. I will not force you into anything, I care for you too much for that but I will plead with you. Please amralime, give me a chance to make you as happy as you make me. Let me stay by your side and know you not just as a friend but as a partner, through all things.”

His words steal the breath from your lungs and the beat from your heart. They make you feel like you're flying and sinking all at the same time. There is a part of you, deep down that is screaming for you to give in, to let him love you. 

“Kili I-” You pause, “I am tired. Tired of a great many things. I-I I think you should go.” You turn from him and blink back the tears that flood your eyes. You hear him sigh followed by the creek of the floorboard he stands on as he shifts his weight. He does not speak though, simply drops his arm from where it had been holding your hand and makes his way to the door. 

You hear it open and your shoulders tense, the chill air floods into the room and nips at your skin. Then the door shuts and you're alone. Not for the first time, you question if this really is all for the best.

taglist: @bunnybabe-babydoll @kokochanel111 @shiinata-library @oneiratxxia10 @targaryenteam @sunnysidesidra @shadowrose13-blog1-blog1

[mbbmz]

Hey again😍I took 2 nights of thinking to actually come up with ANYTHING💀 SO, Brahman Wakasa who casually hooks up with reader to release stress n stuff. But reader realizes she's catching feelings for him and doesn't want him to be with any other girl, so she confesses it to him! Could be happy or sad ending but ngl im kinda in the mood for angst😭

Hi darling! Sorry I took a while to write this I was lacking motivation A LOT lol

Also what I write is a bit different from what you described to me but the spirit is still there, I hope you’ll still like it.

Warnings : Porn with a little plot, smut, ptv sex, riding, Waka is an asshole, kinda angsty and no comfort

NSFW under the cut

Stay.

The room was filled with panting breaths and small grunts, the headboard of your bed hitting the wall every so often. It was hard to keep your eyes open, but you did, for the sole purpose of watching the man under you.

His eyes were closed, his beautiful lips parted and a small frown on his usually relaxed features. It was almost unfair how pretty he was, his eyelashes fluttering everytime your pace varied, going from slow rolls of your hips to fast, small bounces. Your hands were settled on his firm chest, trying hard not to wander and disrupt the pace you were setting. You could feel his fingers digging in your hips, sometimes trailing down to draw lazy circles on your clit, trailing up to play with your nipples before repeating the cycle again. At this point, you didn’t care where he touched you, as long as you felt his hands on you.

You met Wakasa at a bar, three, four months ago. You don’t really remember. You remember hooking up with him, though, as it was probably one of the best nights in your life. Since then, you two became sort of… friends with benefit.

It wasn’t true, and you knew it. You weren’t even his friend. You were just a hook up, a booty call.

You were fine with that, because that’s what he was to you too. Until he wasn’t. Until you started seeing him in a different light. Until you felt a small pressure in your chest every time he was getting ready to leave. Each of those times, the words ‘don’t leave’ were threading to come out of your throat. They never did.

You felt your orgasm approaching, your pace quickening as your movements got slightly shaky, stuttering from the pleasure. You could see a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, neck and chest, making him even hotter in your eyes. His fingers came to play with your clit, rubbing it up and down in an attempt to get you closer to the edge.

A low moan escaped his lips, feeling your walls fluttering, tightening around him from the movements of his index on your sensitive mound. It was a matter of a few seconds until a wave of pleasure coursed your body, your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. It always did with him.

You continued moving your hips a bit more, trying to finish him off despite the sensitivity you had down there, and it paid off after a few seconds. You were both panting heavily, trying to come down of your high. Your thighs were hurting a bit, so after gaining some energy to do so, you let his softening cock leave the warmth of your body to lay down beside him, your head on his chest.

This sweet moment lasted five minutes, tops, before he started getting up. Sitting up on your bed, you watched him picking up his clothes from the floor, getting ready to leave.

-"That was cool. Thanks for lettin’ me crash here."

Cool. That was cool. Yeah, that’s exactly how you would describe too. Of course.

You felt the same usual words burning your tongue, you were running out of time. Soon he would go past that door and there would be nothing you can do about it.

-"Why don’t you… stay a bit more?.."

Your voice came out softer than what you intended. You hated it, how desperate you sounded. When you saw him looking at you, you knew he knew. You despised the way he was looking at you right now. His face was as expressionless as usual, but you could see it in his eyes. Almost like pity, but with a tinge or irritation. Like something inconvenient had happened.

-"Needa go, got somethin�� goin’ on tonight."

No goodbye, no see you around, no take care. Just silence as he walked past the door, leaving behind him a used condom, a creaking bed and a broken heart.

Late at night, curled under your blanket, your eyes were stinging a little. You should go to sleep, you had work tomorrow. Yet despite the sting of your eyes and the overwhelming tiredness, you couldn’t take your gaze off the text you sent to him. You couldn’t take off your eyes from the small red lettering next to it.

Not delivered.

[elsfairy]

E A R N E D I T - 𝐕 𝐈 𝐎 𝐋 𝐄 𝐓

Violet has always been obsessed with you. obsessed with how you present yourself respectfully, the way you’re so friendly, and your beautiful interactions with others. appreciates the amount of time you take to get ready in the mornings, even if you weren’t exactly planning to do anything besides spending the day with her. she was undeniably obsessed & in love with every single thing you did. you smiled? she’s silently swooning, pouting to herself, and thanking the gods for giving you to her at such a shitty time in her life. You laughed at one of her overused, yet somehow amusing jokes? she was falling deeper and deeper in love with you as those silent seconds passed the longer you let out that beautiful sound she so beautifully adored to hear. 

she loved you, yes.  

she was obsessed with you, yes. 

but like something everyone dealt with in their life, there was just one thing that took up too much of her mind when you weren’t around.

your hands.

those took up too much of her time when you’re out of the house & working. she loved to feel them in her hair after she herself has worked all day, and coming home to have those delicate, nimble yet long fingers threading through her hair? girl was putty in your hands. or when they brush her lower back during any friendly interaction when you’re introducing her to your co-workers and you’re so fuckin’ oblivious to notice her pink tint blushed cheeks, and how her pupils dilate ever so slightly because you’re simply just . . . touching her?

those innocent, playful thoughts of your hands would become more dirty the longer she was left alone in your shared bedroom, with just her own thoughts. how good those fingers felt tucking strands of hair behind her ear. how you slowly trace her stomach with them after a long day. how good they feel curling inside her cunt. but no matter how many times you ask her what’s on her mind recently because she’s so quiet and Violet is never quiet. always cracking a joke here & there. trying to get you to try some weird food she picked up from the store. she can’t ever find it in herself to tell you, afraid you’ll either judge her or laugh at her. 

of course, her secrets never work out in the best way possible and stay hidden forever like she always plans because not even 3 days later she’s got an even bigger problem. you’re staring up at her with those soft eyes, the same ones that hold so much love for her. one hand gripping her hip, nails digging bluntly into the flesh with such a grip and she can’t breathe because she can feel you everywhere. those kisses you left on her not even 10 minutes ago, still feel fresh against the supple skin of her neck. the spit you left all over her tits, still cold in the night. and you’re saying something but she can’t hear you because she’s too fuckin’ focused on the way your fingers rub at her sensitive clit.  those doe blue eyes hypnotized with them, afraid that if she looks away, she’s going to miss what you’re doing, but it’s so hard to control her urges, and it’s then that her voice breaks more than it usually does. “can i… please? just once..?”

she doesn’t see the way your face changes from happy to confused, nor does she notice the way your lips part at her sudden question because you don’t even have enough time to register how quick she’s moving for you. one minute she’s looking at your fingers then she’s wrapping her lips around the same ones that were only just rubbing messily at her clit. her quiet, subtle whimpers slipping past her lips, as well as her spit when the wet muscle of her tongue licks your fingers slowly, the taste of her still on you.

as much as you loved obident, rule listener Vi, you did miss when she was loud,  when she would quip back snarky comments about you not giving her enough or just overall teasing her until she was in tears begging for what she wanted. but right now, she was even more beautiful to you. eyes screwed shut, droplets of tears slowly forming and sliding down her cheeks. hand gripping tightly on your wrist, cheeks hallowed as she greedily lets you willingly fuck her throat with your fingers to the point she’s making even more of a mess. her blunt nails on her free hand scratching up marks on your stomach, and her hips stuttering due to your movements.

who would have thought, sweet Violet loved your fingers that much.

“good girl. yeah? taste so good don’t you, baby? keep going, you’ve earned it”

[cinnamongorll]

Wildflower - chapter 2

read on ao3 🤍 previous chapter 🤍 masterlist 🤍

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC Synopsis: Joel Miller is an infuriating constant in Alex’s life. As her dad’s best friend and smuggling partner, she can’t seem to avoid him no matter how hard she tries.  When a weapons trade off goes wrong and Alex becomes the next target in a dangerous revenge vendetta, Joel is forced to uphold the promise he made to his friend to protect his daughter from the dangers of the post-apocalyptic world. But when Alex and Joel reluctantly grow closer, and she starts to peel back the layers of animosity between them, Alex realises that nothing is what it seems and that trusting Joel might be more dangerous than anything outside the QZ walls. Series tags: dbf!Joel, age gap (Joel is late 49, FMC is 26), older man/younger woman, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mean Joel, protective Joel, dark Joel, sexual tension, smut, mutual pining, feral Joel, first person pov, angst, more tags to be added, ultraviolence Joel. Chapter warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. Also, Joel is pretty mean in this one, sorry xx Word count: 6.5k

_________________________________________

Chapter 2:

“Yes.”

The word leaves my mouth and the firm grip on my face disappears before I can prepare myself for the loss of my anchor.  

Joel’s hands retreat to rest against his thighs, fingers curling into tight fists. His head is turned away from me, scanning the crowd, tracking the movement around us. Without his grip, my body deflates and I blink, trying to catch my breath. The air pulls and pushes against the inside of my chest, forcing my mouth to remain open in desperate gasps which neither fill my lungs nor bring me any sense of relief. 

Mourners, witnesses, and survivors just going about their day crash into us from all sides. The square is becoming smaller and smaller as more people file past the stage where the wooden structure stands, where the bodies swing, where my - 

“Joel,” I bite out, my stare burning into the side of his face. 

His head drops towards me. When his eyes catch mine he winces as though caught off guard by the grief that’s splattered over my face. 

“What?” he demands under his breath as his gaze detaches from mine almost immediately, back to scanning buildings and people. I’m abandoned, alone in my confusion.

Someone crashes into me and I stagger to the side, into another man who growls out a loud curse and pushes me away from him. I’m lost in a sea of bodies and screams, my heartbeat roars in my ears as another elbow digs into my side and a foot slams on top of my own. 

I grunt in pain as I twist and turn in the waves of people. I can’t see Joel and, with every push and shove, I’m dragged closer and closer to the gallows. My hands reach out, grabbing at clothing and arms and anything that will stop me from moving towards my dad’s swinging body.

I want to scream. I can feel it crawling up my throat again as another shoulder carves into my chest, but I remember what Joel said. The awareness of guns scanning the crowd seizes my throat and I feel myself choke out a gargled yell that I couldn’t quite keep contained. 

Who are these people? What happened to my dad? Where is Joel?

He told me to trust him, that he’d get us out of here. But he let go, and now I’m floating helplessly in unknown waters, in a battle with no knowledge of my opponents. 

I’m spun around with the flow of people and my eyes catch sight of my dad. 

It’s like someone has reached into my lungs and stolen all the air I’ve so desperately consumed, like I'm being suffocated from the inside. My heart moves at a hummingbird's pace, rippling and thrashing against my thin jumper. 

For a moment I think that time has stopped, but, no, it's worse than that: time keeps moving. People around me keep pushing, my legs keep stumbling. If time stood still, if everyone would just stop moving for a second, I was sure that I could figure this out, that I could wake up from this nightmare. 

I’d realise that this is all a mistake, a misunderstanding. I’d realise that, no, that isn’t my dad up there, it’s someone else, of course. This is someone else’s nightmare, not mine. Please, god, can everyone just STOP. 

Please.

STOP.

I don’t realise I’m saying the words, screaming them, even, until the hand I’ve come to  intimately recognise slides across my open mouth. 

His chest is pressed against my back, his mouth drops to my ear. 

“Don’t turn round, don’t make a sound. Just keep movin,’” Joel growls in my ear.

Something resembling relief pumps through my bloodstream and, by some miracle, my legs don’t falter at the malice in his tone and I fulfil his demand. My legs keep moving, fortified by Joel’s own stride that shadows my own. 

I can’t see anything past the sea of people that I’m swimming through. But Joel does, and he grunts directions in my ear as we weave through the square. “Left” “Right” “Stop” “Keep goin.’” His hand has dropped from my mouth to rest casually on my shoulder, like he does this all the time. 

I realise quickly that this is a performance. Joel is a puppet master, pulling at my strings, pushing me around in some dance I don’t know the moves to. I don’t even know who’s in the audience, who is watching us… who wants us dead. 

I feel Joel stiffen against me at every shove I face as I try to follow his commands, and I hear him unleash low warnings to those who get in our way: “watch it” “move.” 

I shiver at the cold authority in his voice, and those around us do as well. I can sense, though, that Joel is holding himself back, that he could easily clear those who cling to us. But I have enough awareness to understand that Joel is using the violence of the crowd to our advantage; embracing the anonymity of being another stumbling victim in an ocean of people travelling in numerous directions. 

When the sight of legs and shoes give away and I begin to get a clearer view of the ground, I feel Joel’s grip on my shoulders tighten and I’m swept into an alleyway.

His movements are too quick and his hold on me is too strong for any protests to leave my lips. My back hits the brick wall hard and a choked gasp unleashes from my throat as my eyes flash up to meet Joel’s face which is once again turned away from me.  

We’re in a small alleyway, it’s dark and muggy, and as my eyes dart around the space I see tipped bins, leaking unfamiliar fluids onto the cracked concrete, and piles of discarded clothing against the walls. I shiver despite everything, despite the two hands that are holding firm to my shoulders, pinning me against the wall. 

“Joel, what’s happening?” I whisper. 

His eyes drop to mine. Joel is breathing heavily, he’s standing so close I can feel his chest rise with every quick breath. It takes me a moment to notice the ire in his eyes, but when I do, I press my back harder against the wall behind me.

“Told you not to make a sound,” he grinds out. His gaze is unfocused, darting between me and the street to my left which continues to pump out people moving in different directions, some escaping the horror in the square and some desperate to steal a look. 

“And you told me you’d get us out of this, but all you’ve done is lose me in the crowd and get us trapped in an alley,” I retort, enjoying the sudden anger that pulses over my skin. It feels much better than fear. 

Joel stiffens and his hands flex against me, increasing their pressure on my shoulders. 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ smartass,” he seethes with his jaw clenched, pupils flaring. 

I know I should be frightened by Joel’s anger. I know what he’s capable of, I know that he could leave me here to get killed and I know that he wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. But for some reason, I feel a strange sense of immunity. 

In fifteen minutes, my entire world has gone up in flames. I’m standing in the ash pile, waiting for the next fire to catch. 

Joel’s anger isn’t a new threat, it’s an old one, familiar and predictable. The blaze that he ignites is one I like to run my fingers over, enjoying the heat of the burn. 

I tilt my chin up, meeting his narrowed eyes. “Tell me what’s happening, now.” 

He scoffs as his head swings towards the street, then after he’s satisfied that the crowd is still thick, his eyes find mine again. The anger is rippling off him in waves, along with something else that I don’t think I’ve ever seen in Joel: fear.

“You agreed to trust me.”

I shift to stand straighter. His grip eases to let me. 

“Trust only works if it goes both ways.” 

I watch Joel’s jaw move as he digests my words. Then, his eyes fly upwards, a long breath releases from his mouth and he purses his lips. 

My own breath huffs out of me when I realise I’ve won. 

“We took some weapons from the wrong people,” he reveals in a low, grumbling voice as though every word is a struggle. 

“You mean you stole them?” I challenge. Goosebumps trail over my skin as my brain fills in the blanks, jumping to conclusions.

Joel’s chin drops in a sharp nod. 

“Fuck,” I sigh as my eyes follow the movement in the street before returning to his black stare in the dim light of the alley. 

“So what? The people you stole from are the ones who - who,” my throat catches and I swallow roughly, unable to verbalise the reality that I’m confronted with.

Joel’s silence is answer enough. 

I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes but I’m quick to blink them away. Anger still bleeds out of me and I’m not ready to stem the flow yet, it’s the only thing holding me from  breaking down. 

“Who’s idea was it?” I demand, pushing forward, forcing Joel’s grip on my shoulders to loosen. “To steal the weapons?” 

Joel straightens, standing taller. I can practically feel the rage rising in him. Too bad - I’m angrier. 

I plant my palms on his hard chest and push. “Are you the reason he’s dead?” I attempt to sneer but my voice comes out choked and raw. I watch as Joel takes a step backwards, his eyes somehow darkening further. 

My breaths grow heavy as I wait for him to retaliate; to deny my accusation or push back even harder, to pin me to the wall or even turn and walk away. But he doesn’t, Joel just stares down at me, his eyes roaming over my face as a muscle jumps in his cheek. 

I’m disappointed, I realise after a few seconds. I wanted the push back, I wanted the fight. So, I try again. 

“This is your fault, isn’t it? They’re here because of you,” I taunt, stepping into the space he vacated until my chest almost grazes his. My head is tilted up, my eyebrows are raised. 

Joel says nothing but I watch with satisfaction as his breaths grow sharp and fast and my snide smile lengthens. 

“You got my dad killed, and I’m gonna be next because of you,” I fume, lifting my hands to his chest again to unleash another inch of my anger. 

But my fingers don’t even graze the dark material of Joel’s shirt before his hands wrap around my wrists as he forcefully twists my body around until my arms are pinned behind my back, secured with one hand while the other wraps around my throat, pulling me against him. 

I struggle, shaking my shoulders, attempting to kick his legs, but with every retaliation I feel the grip on my throat increase.

My anger gives way to fear again and, as the red cloud clears, I realise that I’ve been walking along the tightrope of Joel’s fragile patience, and with those last words thrown his way, it snapped, leaving me dangling at the mercy of his sick punishment. 

Joel is sneering in my ear, I can practically feel the snarl on his lips as he grunts and pants while securing my complete submission. 

“Keep talkin’,” he taunts with a growl along the shell of my ear. I’m gasping now, my mouth is open wide but only a minimal amount of air is allowed to enter. 

I feel Joel’s laugh rumble against my back as his grip suddenly eases and my chin drops against his arm as I gulp down the precious air that he refused me.  

“I made a promise to your dad to keep you safe,” he hisses as I land another kick to his shin. I bite my lip when he pulls me closer and my eyes squeeze shut when his hand hovers over my neck like a warning. “But if I hadn’t,” Joel pauses and grunts out a harsh, humourless laugh. “I would’a left you out in the open for a bullet to find you.” 

My body goes limp in his hold. I’m still gasping, greedily swallowing air in case his hand once again finds itself wrapped around my throat. 

“I don’t want your help,” I manage to croak. 

“Too fuckin’ bad,” Joel drawls as he finally realeases me, and I stumble forward, my hands reaching up to cradle my neck before I spin around to face him. 

“Choking me isn’t a good way to get me to trust you,” I cough out, pinning him with my stare.

Joel considers me for a moment, his eyes skimming down my face until they drop to my trembling hands. He looks away quickly and I watch him blink a few times before he wipes a hand over his forehead and turns back towards me. Some of the malice has disappeared from his face. He looks tired, defeated, almost.  

“You already agreed, sweetheart,” Joel replies, but his voice has lost all its fight. “Only way we’re gettin out of this is if you follow my lead.” 

He’s right, I know he is, but my agreement gets caught in my tender throat. 

When I don’t answer, Joel steps forward.

I flinch.

He stops, immediately, and something resembling remorse ripples in his eyes. 

“Got it?” he demands slowly, carefully. 

I look out into the street. The crowd is starting to thin, if we don’t move now, we’re going to lose the cover it gives us. 

“Got it,” I reply. But my response doesn’t sound like a willingness to survive this situation he’s got us in, it sounds more like a sign that I've lost. 

………………………….

We walk side by side through the streets, Joel’s hand is wrapped loosely around my wrist. 

I keep my gaze forward, focusing on putting one foot in front of another. As we move, Joel murmurs quiet commands, altering me when he wants to turn a corner, letting me know that there’s no sign of the snipers, telling me to walk quicker. 

Soon, through the fear and horror that drenches my vision, I recognise where we’re headed. 

“Don’t tell me we’re going back to my apartment,” I whisper sharply. 

Joel doesn’t respond but his footsteps are harsher across the pavement. 

“Joel,” I hiss as I continue to stare straight ahead. “If people are looking for us, our apartments are the first place they’re gonna look.” 

His face whips towards mine and I know I’ve snapped his patience again. 

“We need a place to lay low, to figure this out,” he explains with a biting tone. “And unless you’ve been breakin the rules, no one knows where either of us live.”

My stomach drops but I don’t let my steps falter.

“Fine, okay.”  

My dad had strict rules to keep our heads down, not to make friends, to make sure that we were never noticed. By all accounts, we lived like ghosts in the QZ. 

Joel’s right, no one should know where either of us live. 

In theory. 

His name sits on the tip of my tongue, ready to tell Joel about the one person I gave my address to. But I can still feel the strength of his hand wrapped tight around my throat, warning me that my next misstep might hurt even more. So I keep quiet. 

I broke his rule, just once. Theo would come when Joel and my dad had left, knocking on my door, stripping off my clothes, dipping my body onto my mattress, grunting my name. 

It was casual, fun, inconsequential… right? 

I feel Joel tug on my wrist and I quicken my steps, head down as he leads me home. 

…………………….

My legs give out as I step into my apartment. 

I slide down the wall beside the door as the weight of my new reality is forced down on my shoulders. 

He’s dead. 

He’s not coming home. 

My ears are ringing, my heartbeat is screeching in my ears, drowning out the sound of Joel’s footsteps as he locks the door, steps around me and strides to the window, pulling down the makeshift blinds. 

The apartment is plunged into darkness until he finds the lamp and turns it on. 

Immediately, I’m coated in flickering yellow light and I have to cover my mouth to keep the sob from erupting. Or maybe a scream, I don’t know. 

Joel is talking to me. I can’t hear him but I can see his mouth moving and his eyebrows furrowing when he notices I’m not responding. 

He throws his hands in the air and turns, walking until he reaches the rug in my dad’s room. I squint my eyes when he rolls up the edge and opens the compartment under the floorboards that I hadn’t realised he knew about. 

When he turns back around, there’s a gun in each hand. 

Are they some of the stolen guns?

My hand drops from my mouth as he walks closer, and my chin tilts up to meet the look he’s pinning me with. His eyes survey my face, probably condemning me for the tears that wet my cheeks and the red splotches that stain my skin. 

I expect him to shout at me, to tell me to get up, to stop crying, to stop being weak. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, Joel reaches out, gun dangling from his grip. 

I blink up at him, lines forming on my forehead as my grief stricken mind attempts to understand what kind of game he’s playing.

“Take it,” he commands when I make no move to accept. 

I shake my head quickly and drop my limp hands to the floor. 

“I don’t know how to use it,” I confess, exhaustion clipping my voice. My pride is overshadowed by my grief and fear as I reveal my weakness to the man who had held my life between his hands less than an hour ago. 

His eyebrows shoot to the roof. “You’re jokin.”

Despite my numbness, a fierce pulse of mortification still shoots through my body. 

“Do I look like I’m fucking joking,” I fume as I push myself off the floor and straighten my spine.

The gun hangs between us. 

I’m reminded of the night before, when it was me who handed the gun to my dad. If I take the weapon from Joel, will I meet the same fate? 

I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand, then cross my arms over my chest before my gaze finally lands on Joel’s face. He’s watching me with that reluctant curiosity again and I squeeze my arms tighter to shake the chill of his attention. 

Eventually, he shakes his head and pockets one of the guns. When only one remains in his hand, Joel nods at me.

“Watch.” 

His command has my eyes flashing to his hand, gripped tight around the gun. Joel’s veins are like ropes rippling under his skin as he waits for my full attention. 

“Point down, check it’s loaded, safety off, point, shoot.” 

His instructions are short and blunt but I find myself mesmerised by the movements he makes. Joel’s fingers look like they were moulded to wrap around the handle of a gun. They ache power and scream pain. 

I notice the blood on them, too. Blackness curled around his nail beds and a red tinge staining his knuckles. 

I force my eyes back up to his, and I swallow when I find him already surveying my expression. He looks like he’s taking note. 

“Understand?” he asks roughly after a moment. 

I nod, and accept the weapon into my hand when he tries again. It’s heavy, like the weight of what it means is dragging me down. 

“Why are you giving me this?” 

Joel sighs and rubs his neck, his muscles straining under his shirt. 

“To protect yourself while I’m gone,” he says calmly, still watching me with close attention. 

“What? Gone? Where are you going?” questions spill from my mouth and Joel’s eyes hit the ceiling again before he turns and marches towards the radio by the window. 

I’m on his heels, matching his steps, begging for answers. Panic has attacked my chest, firing lightening bolts of fear throughout my body. 

When he doesn’t turn around, without thinking, I reach out a hand, meaning to land on his broad shoulder and force him to meet my questioning glare. But he catches it before I touch him. Once again, Joel’s hand is wrapped around my wrist and he holds my arm in suspension between us, reminding me of the power he holds in his body. 

“Stop askin’ so many questions,” he grunts before dropping my arm.

I choke out a laugh. It’s so absurd, his absolute refusal to let me in on his plans. 

“Are you being serious? You’ve told me next to nothing about what is going on and now you’re leaving? I have a right to know where you’re going,” I argue, my words are frenzied and breathless. 

Joel dismisses my desperation with a cruel shake of his head, like I’m a child who’s reached their curiosity limit.

His hands curl into tight fists and I involuntarily take a step back until the back of my legs meet the cushions of our worn couch. 

Joel tracks the movement with a sharp inhale. 

“I’m gettin’ us a way out of here, that’s all you need to know,” he answers before turning and stalking towards the apartment door. 

“Out of the QZ?” I blurt out, my voice loud and pleading as I follow his brutal path. 

“You wanna stay here and get killed? Be my fuckin’ guest,” he calls over his shoulder. His threat is meaningless after confessing the vow he made, but a part of me wonders how far his loyalty to my dad goes. 

I swallow down the scream of frustration that threatens to erupt from me, and I dig my nails into my palms, imagining that they’re wrapped around his throat instead. 

“I’m coming with you,” I declare, straightening my spine, trying to appear taller, more capable. 

Joel freezes at my words, his hand paused on its journey to the first lock on the door. I can feel the weight of the sigh he releases before he turns on me, striding forward until he’s towering over me, consuming the space around us with his dominating presence. 

I can practically see the seconds that we’re wasting ticking behind his eyes. Every moment is on the clock now, counting down to those snipers finding us. 

“You’re stayin’ here, end of story,” Joel proclaims with a tilt of his head that has goosebumps rising again on my skin. 

I picture Joel walking out the door, leaving me here alone, unable to shoot, unable to fight, just waiting for him to return. Left to face the cold fury of my grief in this dark apartment that’s coated in memories of the man who now swings from a thick rope.

I consider begging, getting on my knees with my hands clasped and staring up at Joel while I plead with him not to leave me here, to let me come with him. 

I hate this. I hate depending on Joel Miller of all people. My dad’s psychopathic friend. 

But he’s all I have. 

“Don’t leave me,” I plead, scanning his face, searching for any sign of a living breathing person behind the wall of stoicism that he’s built. 

I watch as his eyes narrow and he grits his teeth. 

“Grow up,” Joel scolds, and with one last withering look, he returns to the lock.

His words are like a blow to my stomach and I cough out a choked breath. Heat rises in my cheeks as mortification and anger ripple under my skin. 

I stagger backwards as he pulls the door open. My questions lay unspoken, having died by Joel’s sword of cruelty. 

He turns before leaving but he doesn’t meet my eyes. I wonder if he fears what he’d find in them.

Then, Joel says the same words he uttered last night, before everything went to hell. 

“Don’t do anythin’ stupid.” 

……………………….

The gun is on the table, resting just a few inches away from my fingers which drum on the hardwood surface. 

He left me, he fucking left me. 

I’m seething, every bone in my body is groaning under the weight of my rage. My fingers tap to the rhythm of the thoughts that shoot through my mind. Questions, visions, worries, and regrets meld together into a ball of nausea that surges in my gut. 

I don’t know how long Joel has been gone. Minutes or hours, I can’t tell. The blinds are still drawn and the only light that illuminates the space is the broken lamp that mocks me with its flickering light. 

I imagine myself lifting the gun from the table and following after Joel, surprising him with my capability, shocking him into telling me the truth. 

My eyes squeeze shut until I see nothing but darkness, erasing the vision entirely. 

I wouldn’t even know where to start. I can barely touch the gun without flinching and I don’t have a single clue where my dad’s connections live. He didn’t want this life for me, and I’ve always been content in trusting him with my safety. 

My fingers stop drumming and lift to push into my eyes, turning the darkness into a bright searing orange behind my lids. 

Now my past indifference in learning how to protect myself has caught up to me, and I have to trust Joel fucking Miller with my life. 

What a sick joke. 

I drop my hands to the table with a loud thud, enjoying the slight burn that flashes up my arms when they connect with the hard surface. 

With my palms flat, I push myself out of the chair and stand, inhaling long deep breaths as I turn in a slow circle, taking in every inch of the home that’s closing in on me. 

I wince when my eyes find that broken bulb, bathing me in its fractured glow.

Without thinking, I’m moving towards it, gripping the cold metal stem with my hand and slamming down towards the floor. The light ceases immediately. Glass splatters around my feet, latching onto the laces on my boots and implanting in the rubber sole. 

Sharp breaths claw out of my lungs as I stand over the carnage. My relief is mixed with sorrow as I drop to the floor, my legs shaking as they make their descent. 

The glass bites into my jeans but I can’t see their fractured points. The apartment has collapsed into shallow darkness, faintly illuminated by the threads of daylight that leak out the corners of the blinds Joel pulled down. 

My face is wet again, I can feel the tears drip off my skin, landing somewhere I can’t see. 

My breaths are ragged like the fragmented edges of the glass rubble I rest on. I don’t know how to see past this darkness, I don’t know what my life is going to look like when Joel returns. I’ve been dragged into a mess I don’t even know how to begin to clean up. 

All I know is that Joel and my dad’s smuggling enterprise might have been more dangerous than I thought. 

I lean forward, lifting my arms to cradle around my bent knees as my hair falls around my face like a black veil. 

Joel is capable, I remind myself. If anyone can get us out of this, it’s probably him. He’s a dick but he knows what he’s doing. 

My teeth capture my bottom lip as I consider the frightening reality that despite every bit of survival instinct he has going for him, Joel still managed to get himself targeted by a group strong enough to infiltrate a QZ. 

So Joel can make mistakes, afterall. 

I inhale a shaky breath, but the exhale doesn’t come. 

A loud bang rattles the apartment door. My head swings towards it, hair flying around my face. 

I don’t move, I don’t breathe.

Another bang, a fist hitting off the wood with enough force to shake the doorframe. 

This isn’t Joel. He wouldn’t make that much noise. His knocks are quiet, contained, covert. 

My heart starts to pound. 

This isn’t Joel. 

Panic slams into me. I have to move, I have to hide, I have to do something. 

My hands land on the glass speckled floor and the fractures bite into my skin as I push myself up, moving my legs as slowly as possible. 

I’m standing when I hear the voice. 

“Alex!” it calls. “Are you in there? Open up!” 

Shit. 

I race to the door, my feet crunching over the lamp’s debris. I don’t even look through the peephole, I know exactly who is behind the door. And if he doesn’t shut up he’s going to get us killed.

My fingers are rapid as they release the locks and pry the door open. 

Theo stands on the other side, his chest moving quickly like he’s been running. I don’t give him a chance to catch his breath. I grip his arm and pull him into the apartment, shutting the door quietly. 

“Did anyone follow you?” I demand, sliding my eyes across his face before I turn to deadbolt the door. 

“Follow me? Alex what’s going on?” he asks softly, his eyebrows pinched and mouth gaping. “I saw your dad -” 

My back meets the door. I raise a hand, stopping him. I beg him with my desperate stare to not say the words. My mind is so fragile right now, one more reminder of my dad will shatter it entirely. 

“Did anyone follow you? Please, just answer the question,” I plead, making a considerable effort to calm my voice.

“No, of course not. Why? Is someone looking for you?” Theo asks, stepping closer. 

I drop my head into my hands with a heavy breath. “I don’t know,” I mumble into my palms. 

Strong arms wrap around my middle and pull me into his warm chest. I drop my hands to curl around Theo’s back, fingers gripping the soft material of his t-shirt. 

“What’s going on? You can tell me,” he whispers into my hair. 

“I can’t,” I murmur into his chest.

I can feel Theo try to pull back, to meet my eyes in the dim lighting, to uncover what’s happening, but I’m not ready to let go yet. I just hold him tighter, basking in the comfort of his touch. I allow myself to disarm for a moment, to let the weight of the last few hours fall onto me. 

My breaths come easier, I can feel my mind begin to settle. My thoughts are clearer. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” I say when I drop my arms back to my side and peel my cheek from the safety of his chest. 

Theo brushes a hand across my hair, tucking a few strands behind my ear. “Alex, please. Are you okay?” 

“He’s dead,” I croak out, blinking up at him. Theo is only half visible in the light and I appreciate that I can’t see the pity I’m sure is shining in his eyes, just as I also appreciate the fact that he can’t make out the full extent of the devastation and fear on my own face.

“I know - I came as soon as I saw. I’d heard they had caught a bunch of smugglers last night but I had no idea your dad…” Theo trails off, leaving the rest of his words to remain unspoken, like my dad’s occupation always was. 

“Come on,” he breathes as he takes my hand and leads me through the darkness to the couch. 

I sink into the cushion as Theo wraps an arm around my shoulders. He’s always been good at calming me down. 

In the back of my mind, a voice yells at me, telling me that he can’t be here. What if someone followed him to this building? What if Joel comes back and finds him - 

An image of Joel pointing a gun at Theo’s head flashes across my vision. 

I stand quickly. Theo’s arm falls to the back of the couch. 

“Alex?” he asks, sitting forward.

I shake my head and send a small smile in his direction. “I’ll just be a second.” 

My legs tremble as I walk towards the kitchen. I run my hands through my hair, tugging at my scalp, begging myself to think of some excuse, some explanation for why I need Theo to leave, to protect himself, to stay away from me, to not get caught up in this mess. 

I’m standing at the table, my fingers pressing into the wood. The gun sits inches away, predicting a future I want nothing to do with. 

“Alex -” 

Theo’s voice is cut off by the sound of locks exploding. 

I swipe my hand across the table, grabbing the gun as I drop to the floor. My hand covers my ears as my mouth opens in a silent scream. 

The open door illuminates the apartment in a bright, exposing light. From under the table, I see a man I don’t recognise march towards Theo.

“What are you -” 

A trigger is pulled and I watch in a state of absolute horror as my friend’s head swings backwards with the force of the bullet that shoots through his skull. 

My hands pile over my mouth, feverishly holding in my scream. My gun is pressed against the side of my face. Every inch of me is shaking. I can’t move, I can’t feel anything but terror. 

The man turns and I know with a sharp pulse of dread that he’s spotted me. It locks my muscles and steals my breath. 

At least I didn’t have to live too long in my grief, I think. 

What are you doin’? MOVE

My eyes flash open at the imaginary sound of Joel’s voice rattling through my skull. 

“What do we have here?” the man taunts as he stalks closer. I wonder where he’ll shoot me? In the head like Theo? Or maybe the heart, let me bleed out slowly?

“Are you hiding?” the man laughs and his feet pause their movements. “Seriously?” 

I grit my teeth, confused at the man’s taunting. There’s something in his tone like he wants me to fight back, like he wants to punish me.

I think of my dad, and how hard he tried to keep me from this life. I blow out a trembling breath, he wouldn’t want me to die like this. 

From my position, I can’t see anything but the man’s feet planted on the other side of the table. The gun shakes in my sweaty palms as I try to remember Joel’s instructions. 

“Point down, check it’s loaded, safety off, point, shoot.” 

Blood roars in my ears as I follow the rhythm he showed me. The man continues his taunting, but I can only vaguely make out his snide remarks, trying to bait me out from under the table. 

Seconds later, the safety is off and I shoot before the man can react to the sound of the soft click. 

A strangled yell ricochets off the walls of the apartment and I tip backwards with the force of the gunshot. 

I hit his thigh, I think. 

I’m in shock but my brain still screams at me to move, to get out of here, to use this distraction to my advantage. 

My ears are ringing, and I can see a cloud of blackness enter the corner of my eyes that tells me that fainting is a real possibility, but I tighten my hold on the gun as I begin to crawl. 

I release a sharp, guttural scream when my head is lurched backwards as a hand wraps around my hair with a blaze of white hot pain across my scalp.

The gun drops to the floor as my hands fly up to grip my head, to try and block my attack. 

“You little bitch,” the man snarls in my ears as he pulls harder, dragging me upwards until I’m standing. I stumble and struggle in his grip but he doesn’t let up his vice like hold. 

“Guess you’re not so different from your dad then, are you?” he grunts out as I attempt to slam my back into his chest. 

My life is hanging by a very weathered thread and yet my eyes still prick with the mention of my dad. 

“If this is about the weapons,” I gasp out through gritted teeth as he increases his hold on my hair. “We can sort this out - we can pay you back.” 

The man’s answering laugh frightens me more than the sight of his gun. 

“You think this is about some stolen weapons?” he demands, his voice is blaring in my ears and I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut. 

For a short moment, myself and this man both pause in a display of our mutual confusion but the cold rim of the gun that finds my temple ends our short truce. 

I release a trembling breath. In fear or relief, I’m not sure. 

“Shit.” 

Something hot and sticky splatters against the back of my head and I drop to the floor, released from the man’s brutal hold. My eyes open when my body hits the ground. I can’t hear anything, my limbs aren’t responding to my commands to move, to get up, to run. 

Am I dead?

Hands land on my shoulders and I twist around, throwing my arms around and kicking with all the strength I didn’t know I had. My eyes are wide but they’re unseeing. I’m moving too quickly to focus on any single thing. 

Whoever is touching me is strong and once they land a firm grip on my shoulders, I’m pinned to the floor with only my legs to continue fighting for me. 

“Alex, stop.” 

My body goes limp, following the command without question. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the terror from my eyes.

“Joel.” I slur his name as his face appears above me. 

He’s furious. The line between his eyebrows looks like it's been carved out with a knife. 

“You hurt?” he demands, his voice sends shivers down my aching spine.

I shake my head and wince when the movement sends another wave of dizziness to wash over me. 

Joel seems unconvinced. He releases one of my shoulders to search my body for wounds. Flames erupt under my skin where his hand grazes me.

When he’s satisfied, Joel leans back until he’s on his knees, perched over me. 

The black cloud that darkened my vision has returned, curling around the edges like ink in water. My breaths can’t keep up with the pace of my heartbeat. 

Joel frowns as he looks down at me. 

“You left me,” I murmur.

Then the black cloud claims me as its victim.

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

@kaseyconnour @casa-boiardi

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

Hey!! Thanks for reading!! I'm going away again for a few days and then I'm starting my new job so I'm going to try and aim for a new chapter every 2 weeks - hope that's okay 🤍

[yourfavouriterival]

the slow descent from reality (and how to find your way back)

shoko x platonic!fem!reader, gojo x platonic!fem!reader, geto x platonic!fem!reader

warnings: slightly au (not concrete on whether it is canon-compliant), puking, crying, mentions of wounds, mentions of death, hurt/comfort

note: idk if this is good :( but it came out and this is the first thing i've written in months so do give me criticism

-

There must be something in the air. That must be it, because she must’ve been imagining things. Surely, the two loves of her life were still very much the loves of her life. Surely, her closest and longest friend was still her closest and longest friend. Surely, their choice of school and choice of career hadn’t changed their souls so much that she flinched away from their touch. Surely, she could still stand her three best friends' gaze on her and not need to shrink from them. 

And yet. 

Her best friends—her three only ones—that she couldn’t bear to be away from had suddenly become the only ones she couldn’t bear to be close to. 

It’d all started in the beginning of the colder months. She’d yanked her coat over her thin hoodie and held the sleeves to stop them from rolling up her arm. She’d pulled a hat onto her head, avoiding the mirror to be able to ignore how egg shaped she must’ve looked. She’d double-tied her shoes to keep the cold out. 

She’d even grabbed an extra knife to stuff in her boot. 

And still her hands shook and her heart blistered from the cold. 

How long had she grasped onto this feeling within, trying to breathe it into existence only for it to not matter in the slightest? Years, at this point. How long had she wanted to fight stronger curses, to show how strong she truly was? How long had she longed for the chance to prove herself, to finally protect something that mattered?

Yet this past mission. She might've very well signed her resignation papers on the train ride home. 

Her train compartment had been isolated, just her and the sound of metal on metal as she turned her head away from the windows. Her phone lay silent in her pocket, the headphones she usually wore haphazardly thrown into her shoulder bag alongside the knife she’d stuffed in her boot. 

She’d come home, though. As she walked the steps leading to her dorm room, she thought she might just pass out, not from exhaustion. Every step hurt her lungs, and she felt the world was spinning before her eyes, and she couldn’t seem to stand on her own two feet, having to support herself on the wall next to the door. 

She’d never felt so weak. 

Her phone buzzed. 

She opened it. 

suggy: me n dumbass r watching lotr. come over

suggy: realising that sounds like a fuck boy dont come over

suggy: i give up. bye. 

suggy: shoko wants u here. i will not fuck u. 

sat on as a child: sugu soooo wants to hit

sat on as a child: ok sorry hope ur mission went well :3

cigarette girl: hello can u bring me a pack i think i left it in ur room

cigarette girl: omg wait how did the mission go!!! ur so professional now

And for some reason, she closed the door and slid down, numb to the feeling of the wood door digging into her back and somehow unable to close her eyes. The room was dark, the candle she had in the corner cold and dry, the light switch on the wall above her seeming to move further and further away from her hand that felt like forty pounds resting on her leg. 

She felt sick. 

-

For two days she couldn’t eat. She avoided Suguru and Satoru’s invitations by saying she had a stomach ache and she avoided Shoko by saying she had plans with the boys. For four days she couldn’t sleep. 

Nausea wracked her body with each breath and her head was spinning even though she hadn’t moved from her pillow for days. Her body felt oily, the idea of taking a shower too hard. 

I failed. I quit. That’s all she wanted to say. She just wanted to close her eyes for a moment and not see what haunted her mind. 

But if she really quit, what else would she do? Maybe she’d become a doctor, and try to save some lives for once. But why should she try to save people who rarely wish to be saved? Similarly, why was it in her DNA to see curses? Was it not non-sorcerers who should pay the price for their own doings? Should she need to watch yet another child die—

“Oi! Let us in, we’ve got take-out!” 

Satoru was the voice, and two smacks were heard, so that meant Shoko and Suguru were with him. 

But she couldn’t move a muscle. The blankets seemed to consume her, and she might’ve fought against it if she had any energy left to give. But her legs were made of cement and her stomach was filled with glue, sticking her insides together, and hindering her ability to feel her own legs. 

She didn’t want them to come in. She didn’t want them to see her like this. What would they think of her now? Her room was a mess, reflecting a fraction of what her mind was, and her bed looked like someone had fought a war in it. 

“We’re waiting! Hello,” Gojo drawled, voice almost like a melody through the door. 

She kept staring at the wall, curled into herself and breathing much too shallowly. 

“Suguru, you literally have a key. Use it.”

“For emergencies.”

“This is an emergency. I need to sit. My legs are numb,” he whined. Their voices were all muffled and she couldn’t really figure out if it was due to the door between them or how her ears were ringing. 

“Fine,” Suguru groaned, and she heard the sound of the key scraping against the keyhole before the door opened. 

“Your favourite people are here!” yelled Gojo. 

But it was so quiet. 

Her name was called out, or she thinks she heard it. But she didn’t move, only her back facing them. For a moment, she worried about the fresh scars on her back that couldn’t be healed fast enough, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. 

The bed dipped by her legs, and then a hand was placed on her knee over the blanket. The hand was warm, like a furnace under someone's skin, so it had to be Suguru. 

Her name was said again, and the bed dipped twice more—once by her head and lastly by her back. 

“What’s happened?” 

She didn’t speak, but she did start coughing. And then she spoke the first thing she’d spoken in days. “I—I’m gonna throw up,” she warned frantically, and within a second there was a metal bucket by her head where she’d shot up to sit. 

“Go away,” she cried between gags, but all that happened was Shoke pressing a wet towel to her neck and someone rubbing her back. “Please, j—just go away,” she cried, tears springing to her eyes when the gags turned to dry heaving. 

“Not right now,” Satoru said, unusually soft when he took the wet towel from Shoko to wipe around her mouth as she sat up. 

Without a word, Suguru took the bucket and disposed of it and it’s contents in the bathroom attached to her room, and then returned to kneel on the floor beside the bed. “We heard what happened.” 

It just made her cry harder, body so weak that she had to lean against Shoko behind her. “Then you should leave.” 

“Never,” Shoko finally said, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her head. 

The tears that fell from her eyes dripped onto her shirt, but she couldn’t seem to close her eyes from the onslaught. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Suguru promised. “Do they hurt?” She didn’t know what he meant, so she shook her head regardless. “Your back.” 

Oh. Right. The two slashes running across her lower back throbbed at the reminder of their existence. 

“A bit,” she said finally. “I feel… gross.” 

“Then do you want to shower?” 

“Y—yeah,” she said, but when she stood (disregarding that she was only clad in underwear and a t-shirt) her legs buckled beneath her, and she would have crashed to the floor had her three best friends not caught her. 

“Okay, I’m carrying you,” Satoru said, and no sooner than the words left his mouth was she in the air, not without yelling a bit. 

As they entered the bathroom, she realised what a conundrum she was in. Was she to strip naked? Or should she somehow hold herself up—

“Stop thinking so much,” Satoru chastised, and set her down on the closed toilet seat as Suguru and Shoko joined them. “Which one of you wants to? I would but—”

“Yeah, yeah, your six eyes and whatever,” Shoko grumbled, but it was Suguru who took whatever Satoru was holding.

“A blindfold?” she laughed suddenly, even though it tore up her throat to do so, and she lost her breath when Suguru tied it around his head and stood in the shower, arms open. 

“Won’t look. Just here to help,” he said. And then Satoru was guiding her into the shower, and taking Shoko out and closing the door, and then it was just her and Suguru. 

“Sugu,” she said softly. And then she was leaning forward, resting her head on his collarbone and just breathing him in as she reached behind him and turned the water on. She flinched at the coldness first, but leaned back anyway to take off her shirt. “Can’t get my underwear off,” she mumbled, and even with his gentleness of finding her hips and pulling them down, she couldn’t help but feel her face and neck warm. 

“We’ll take care of you.”

-

When Suguru clambered out of the bathroom with his soaking wet clothes to change, he also threw in an oversized shirt and underwear and pants, but as she yanked them on she noticed the smell—Gojo Satoru. 

She remembered, suddenly, buying them. They’d gone to a second-hand store, and Satoru had taken the biggest shirt he could find “just for funsies” and the softest pants, and then proceeded to never wear them. Shoko had complained and offered to take them, but Satoru refused, saying that someday he would want to wear them.

And now she was wearing them and tentatively stepping out of her bathroom to a very clean room. 

“Um—”

“I cleaned!” Satoru yelled. Shoko hit him in the shoulder, and walked towards her to guide both of them into her newly made bed. 

“I cleaned,” Shoko whispered, curling her body around her best friend’s. Then Satoru joined, flopping down next to Shoko whilst Suguru pressed his chest to her back. 

“I know.”

[anakinsgirlfriendreal]

Parts Of The Truth

Masterlist

Chapter Four

Warnings:18+ smut, p in v, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it), infidelity, foul language, once again a bit sad cause I feel like it, reader is a mother so a child is mentioned(I love children, sorry not), also I wrote this in the middle of my Politics class so maybe some spelling errors.

"I love you Padme"

The words haunted your dreams, as you slept. You rolled over coming into contact with his hard chest. Your eyes opened adjusting to the darkness of the room, he had slept over and he had carried you from the couch to bedroom. You remained still for a moment; listening to his breathing, soft snores escaping his lips as he chest rose and fell. You bit to your lip in thought; your mother's words ring through your ears again 'what you're doing is really stupid' she's right, he very obviously doesn't love you, at least not as much as he loves his wife. Your heart hurts, it feels like it'll burst from your chest. Unable to stay beside him in the moment, you get up, heading to the kitchen.

You were sat on the counter, sipping a glass of wine. Your mind running wild; he doesn't love you, maybe he doesn't even love Darcy, he's using us, Padme may find out, oh god what if you lost your job, how would you take care of yourself, take care of Darcy, he did everything- your thoughts are interrupted by his sleepy voice calling out to you as he now stood in the kitchen.

"Baby why are you up? What's wrong?" He stretches, coming towards you, he stands between your legs.

"what's the matter" he kisses your forehead gently.

You tried to push past him but he cages you in, hands on each side of you.

"what's going on? You know you can tell me" he leans down to kiss you and as usual, you kiss back.

You don't say anything, just deepening the kiss, his hands stretch under your thighs as your legs wrap around him, carrying you back into the bedroom. He carefully places you on the bed, slipping your night gown off your shoulders. His hands exploring every inch of your body as though it were the first time.

"You're so beautiful" he kisses down your neck, you can feel his hardening length rubbing against your clothed sex and like a dog in heat your hand reaches down, over his toned chest, down his abs and into his sweats to stroke him.

He groans, a soft moans falling from his lips when he buries himself inside you. You gasp at the delicious stretch, preparing yourself for his harsh thrusts, you close your eyes but they never came.

You open your eyes and he's above you, still buried deep inside your hot cunt but he's stilled. Looking down at you he brushes some stray hair from your face, adjusting himself so his cock presses that sweet spot inside you, your hands wrap around him, nails leaving soft scratches as they dig into his back. His eyes are piercing like they see into your soul, like they're reading your thoughts. The position is so intimate, so raw, like he's trying to steal your soul and join it with his own, he drops himself slowly onto you, and then began to move, slowly, your leg wraps around him, pushing him deeper into you. His kisses down your jaw to your neck, soft nips on your breasts are like a drug you can't help but delight in. Small whimpers turn into moans as his thrusts get faster and his kisses sloppier almost needed. His squeezes your face in his hand, his hips snapping against you as he hammers your needy cunt. "I love you so fucking much" he whispers, kissing you roughly, a string of saliva on the side of your mouth once he pulls away to bite your neck, the hand on your face, wraps around to your throat, his brutal thrusts slowing, he groans when you clench around him, he's about to pick up the pace again when you stop him.

"wait just rub it" you whisper. He does as you ask, rubbing the tip of his cock against your swollen clit, occasionally teasing past your folds. Your eyes flutter closed, mind clear of all thoughts just him. In this moment he was yours, not Padme's, in this moment he wanted you and somehow that was enough. He pushes in to you again, laying his weight on top of you at your request as you coach his movements, nearing both your highs.

"Fuck" he mutters, his cock twitches and he spills himself inside of you, you gasp, warmness spreading throughout your body.

He lays on top of you, still tucked perfectly inside you as you catch your breath. He kisses your neck, burying his face in the space between our head and shoulder.

"I'm sorry" he says, his voice soft and almost whiney, foreign for him really. He raises his head, looking at you, his hand smoothing over your hair. "I love you"

You tilt your head to look at him, a small smile on your lips, your hand comes up to his hair, he kisses your arm. You hadn't even realized that the sun was up, streaks of light finding their way though your curtains, his messed up hair or as you called it; his sex hair almost golden in the sunlight.

"I know."

By the time Darcy had woken up, he was gone. Leaving some stuffed bunny he'd bought for her on the kitchen counter. The weekend was short, simple. You spent as much time with Darcy as possible, choosing to not think about he absolute shit show that was your life.

That Sunday night Darcy laid in your bed, crawling under your shirt, more one of Anakin's old shirts, her small hand tracing a circle repeatedly over your chest. "Mama?" Her voice is soft and curious, you tilt your head to look down at her.

"How come daddy doesn't live with us? Grandma said daddies always live with babies and mommies" she says, she was too smart for a three year old and you couldn't do anything but laugh. You think of what you could possibly say.

"Daddy has to work very hard so that he can buy all the teddies in all the world for you" you say, she hums and then looks up at you, both your heads fitting neatly in the neck of the stretched out t-shirt.

"But-" you cut her off.

"Darcy you don't need to worry about that okay. Daddy and mommy love you very much and your grandma shouldn't be talking to you about that in the first place" she pouts, her dirty blonde curls, wild on her head, her blue eyes big and soft, gosh she looked so much like her father, like you had nothing to do with birthing her at all. "You can't guilt me you little stinker" you whisper, her forehead resting against yours, her soft laugh filling your ears, you kiss her cheek, hugging her close, she settles her head on your chest gain, quick to fall asleep.

Monday morning, you'd called in sick. Darcy was ill; fever and a cold, how she had gotten it overnight was a mystery to you. You figured it was best to stay home with her rather than drop her at your mom's and risk something worsening, Anakin had called a few times to speak with her, promising to drop by later.

You were laid on the couch, Darcy on your chest as you watched paw patrol, she was completely obsessed with it and you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy an episode or two.

Your doorbell rings and you damn near die when you answer it and your eyes register the face looking back at you.

"Padme" your voice breaks, your palms immediately beginning to sweat.

Could use some feedback. What do you guys think so far and what direction would you like to see this heading?

[natalievoncatte]

She knows I’m coming. She probably heard me six blocks away. Heard my voice, my heartbeat.

Lena walked softly down the hall of Kara’s building, counting the doors, counting how many times she had walked past these old bricks with joy lifting her heart. Game nights and movie nights and sleepovers, all the little things she’d torn apart with her bare hands in petty vengeance for Kara’s betrayal.

She did betray me! She lied, she manipulated, she used me.

Lena reached the door and hesitated.

Used me for what? What did Kara or Supergirl ever ask of me that I wouldn’t have given freely?

In her secret heart, Lena knew that it was what Kara didn’t ask for. The one thing she never wanted. She stood outside the door for a half minute, fingers curled in a loose fist as she fought to find the willpower to do this.

It never came. Kara swung the door in and stood there. She was dressed in a soft, yellow sweater and gray leggings, hair down and barefoot, in her natural state where she was just Kara.

A momentary flicker of concern folded Kara’s brows when Lena’s heart raced explosively. Maybe she really could hear it.

If only she’d listened to it.

Lena dropped her hand to her side. Her carefully prepared speech fell to ash in her mouth and she trembled on the spot, eyes a little too wide as Kara looked at her with a flat expression. Not anger. Not remorse. Not concern.

(not desire)

Just… nothing.

It felt like a thousand years passed when Kara turned around and silently padded back into her loft, stopping by the table. She stood, her back to Lena, arms folded, silent.

But she didn’t close the door.

Lena stepped tentatively inside and swung the door shut behind her. She swallowed hard, trying to wet her throat so she could speak, but nothing worked.

Finally, she managed to begin choking it out.

“I made a terrible mistake.”

Kara said nothing.

“I was hurt. I was so hurt. I let it blind me and lead me down a dark path. I thought I could fix everything. I just wanted to make the hurting stop. All the hurting. Lex is back. He’s taken my research and he’s going to do something terrible with it. I want to help you stop him.”

There was still no reaction. Lena wasn’t sure if she saw Kara’s shoulders move or if it was a figment of her imagination. She supposed it didn’t matter. Kara wasn’t saying anything.

Lena couldn’t hold back the sob that burst out of her. She could see it now, the anger burning inside Kara. The rejection and betrayal. The fury as cold as the crystal walls of her secret fortress.

This was it. Lena did it. She won.

She made Kara hate her.

Lena sagged, almost falling like a puppet with cut strings. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and tried to fight back the tears and failed. They fell freely, cutting hot lines down her cheeks as sobs wracked her body.

She didn’t beg or plead; her silence was not born of stiff-necked Luthor arrogance but of resignation. She couldn’t bear it. If she beseeched Kara for forgiveness and was met only with silence she might die.

Lena turned for the door, half blinded, wishing some hell would swallow her up and bring an end to this misery.

She didn’t make it.

A powerful arm drew around her with sublime care. A hand that could crush titanium rested gently on her shoulder, and she was turned around so delicately, so gently, that she wondered if she’d fainted and this was a dream.

Even with Lena in heels, Kara easily brought Lena’s head to her shoulder and rested her own chin atop hers, taking Lena into a deep, careful embrace. Lena hugged back hard, with all her strength. She hugged Kara as if she meant to climb inside her, as if she could never let go. Kara was still silent.

“Kara?”

Kara took a deep breath, her powerful body shuddering in Lena’s arms.

“I thought I lost you forever.”

Lena shattered again, harder this time. She sobbed against Kara, digging her fingers into Kara’s back. Kara simply stroked her hair and hummed softly into Lena’s scalp.

“I don’t want to let go of you,” Kara whispered.

Kara shifted, looking down at her. Lena drew back, blinking tear-reddened eyes. Kara just stared at her, eyes searching, drinking every detail of her face. With her fingers, she lightly brushed a lock of hair from Lena’s cheek and smiled.

Kara was radiant. It was like the sun had finally emerged from behind dark clouds and Lena stood full in its warmth again. She hasn’t seen that smile in so long, she could barely believe it had ever been real. The sheer joy in Kara’s eyes was too much to bear.

Lena was barely aware that she’d lifted up on her toes, that she was reaching, back arching, arms around Kara’s waist to steady herself.

The look of absolute shock on Kara’s face paled in comparison to the softness of her lips. Kara stood stone still for a moment and Lena’s heart jumped again as she thought she’d again made a terrible mistake, and started to pull back.

There was nowhere to go. Kara casually lifted Lena from her feet as she kissed her back, effortlessly pulling her into a spinning, joyous hug.

When Kara put her down again, Lena knew she was a mess of red-rimmed eyes and tears with a silly smile on her face. Kara’s eyes were wet, too, and Lena had left a smear of dark lipstick behind.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “Is this… are we… can we…”

Kara’s shoulders rolled back and she stood to her full height, gently cupping Lena’s chin in her soft hand.

“Lena, I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

[aihoshiino]

Da Vinci Magazine Jan. 2024: A Q&A with Ai of B-Komachi!

In the January 2024 issue of Da Vinci magazine, there was an in-character interview with Ai as written by Aka Akasaka that you can read a translation of here! What I forgot to mention on that initial post is that there was also a little lightning round Q&A the original anon didn't translate at the time. Thankfully, they did post it and I just... completely forgot it existed until now. ;9 Shout out to past me who remembered to save it and kept me from having to dig thru the 4chan archives for it...

Unlike the original interview, this is my translation! So any goofs and gaffes are entirely on me lol. This is also totally spoiler safe, so you can read both this Q&A and the original interview no matter what point you are in the series.

Get to Know Ai Better! Q&A Session

Q. What motto do you live by?

A. I really like "Tomorrow is a new day." I'm one of those people who forgets all their worries after a good nights' sleep. (laughs)

Q. Tell us how you refresh yourself!

A. I like taking naps on my days off. I was saying earlier that I forget my worries once I've gotten some sleep but with this job, it can be hard to find the time to actually do it. Not just that, but lately I've been waking up in the night to take care of this and that, so when I do have the time to sleep, I really conk out.

Q. What is your routine on days off?

A. I wake up, prep some milk… oh, um - I like cornflakes so I always need milk for breakfast. Then I go for a nap (laughs). I know some of the other B-Komachi members like going to beauty salons or nail salons, but I don't do nails and I let my hair grow out so I'm usually just at home (laughs). I even cut my own bangs! I've been doing it for years so I'm pretty good at it. I've even cut other peoples' hair once or twice, though not anyone in B-Komachi.

Q. Your 20th birthday's coming up soon. What are you looking forward to doing once it arrives?

A. I want to try drinking alcohol. The president of my agency keeps saying, "I can't wait to have a drink with you!" He makes it sound like a lot of fun, so I'm curious to know what getting tipsy's like.

Q. What book left the biggest impression on you this year?

A. It's a manga, but I was moved to tears by "I'll Go With Sweet Today". The heroine is a girl who distrusts people and develops anorexia, becoming terrified of eating… I have a bit of that in me too, though not quite to the same extent she does, so I could really relate to her and her journey to recovery really moved me. If there's ever a live-action version, I'd love to play her!

Q: What would you like to do after the Dome concert?

A: I'd like to go on a trip or something. Where would be nice... Oh, I've heard of 'Mito Natto' before, so maybe Mito!

Q: What's something a fan said that made you happy?

A. You know, I didn't used to read any fan letters at all. But there was a time I was getting tired of being an idol and I was planning to quit, so the president made me sit down and read all the letters I'd gotten. That was the first time I'd ever realized just how much support I was getting and it made me go "in that case, I'll give them all my love and support in return!". I even wrote a song about it. So now I treasure all the letters and words I get from my fans. I actually got a gift from a fan recently, some 'star sand'. It was really beautiful and my real name "star" in it, it made me really happy. I've still got it displayed in my room.

Q: What is "true love" to you?

A. I guess if I had to sum it up, I'd say true love is being a genius who doesn't lie. I think maybe people lie to avoid lying. I'm not sure if that's a good answer and even I don't know if it makes sense, but it's just something I feel.

Q: Do you think you're a liar?

A: Hmm~~? That's a se~cret! (laughs)

[girlnadian]

i started and restarted this a few times like i really thought hard about what i wanted the "wifies eats ken out while shes on her period" drabble to be. but anythiing for my mutuals.

nsfw, obviously

divider // 910 words

Wifies has gotten better about it, but he's always hesitant. No matter how much Ken insists and insists it's fine, no matter how many times Wifies bites her and Ken comes out fine, a part of Wifies always resists the idea of feeding off of her up until the point his teeth sink into her skin. Ken never knows whether to find it cute or not.

That being said—Wifies has been clingier than usual for the past couple of days. Ken doesn't even know if he realizes it, but he's been all over her in the same way he sometimes gets when he's hungry. He shouldn't be hungry though—at least not hungry enough that he's acting like this. She'd made him bite her just a few days ago, and it normally takes at least two weeks before he starts feeling it again. She wonders about it idly as he bustles about, gathering painkillers and some snacks and extra blankets.

In hindsight, it should have maybe been obvious, but Ken is in pain so she's a little groggy. Wifies crawls into bed with her, positioned low enough that he can wrap his arms around her and unsubtly press his face into her stomach, and then it finally clicks.

"Wifies," she calls. Wifies hums against her skin, so Ken continues, "Do you want some?"

"Some what?"

"Blood."

Wifies tenses and Ken almost laughs. So he was thinking about it. Cute. Ken runs a hand through his hair.

"I don't mind," she says—she tries her best to sound casual. "You might as well, I'm not doing anything else with it."

"Ken–"

"I mean it," she knows he's going to waffle, so it's easier to cut him off. "It'll help me take my mind off cramps."

She talks confidently, because Wifies won't agree if she's hesitant. He must have been thinking about it a lot, though, because he doesn't put up nearly as much resistance as she figured he would. Ken shuffles into a sitting position and Wifies follows easily, large hands bracketing the insides of her thighs to push them apart—even though she offered, Ken still feels embarrassed heat crawling up her neck. Not to be entirely useless, Ken hooks her fingers in the waistband of her shorts and underwear and tugs them down. She does it fast, before she can think about it, and feels her chest warm pleasantly at the way Wifies' breath hitches.

Wifies has never looked at her like this before—his eyes look almost glazed, like he's really, truly looking at a meal laid out in front of him. Ken opens her mouth to say something, but it dies and becomes an undignified squeak as Wifies leans down to lick over the seam of her cunt. Wifies groans, breathing out harsh against her clit, and Ken's claws tear into the sheets of her bed. Okay, okay–

Wifies presses a hand against her stomach to pin her in place, so Ken contents herself with trying to keep her legs spread enough for him to comfortably do what he wants. It's… not an unfamiliar position or feeling, but it's weird because Wifies really isn't trying to get her off at all. He's usually very, very attentive, but Ken can tell that the few times his nose bumps her clit are all entirely incidental, and he isn't letting her move to try and ride his face or anything. He's eating—that's all.

Wifies pushes his tongue into her deep, and Ken yelps and jolts. She expects him to laugh or– or something, but the only reaction she gets is his fingers digging harder into her thighs. Ken takes the cue to keep still but, shit, it's hard. The way he licks into her is loud and messy, fangs nicking her sensitive skin in the rush. The smell of blood is so strong that Ken feels dizzy with it.

He has to know that she's turned on, she realizes—there's no way he can't tell. Ken wonders what it says about her that Wifies' disregard makes arousal coil so tight in her core.

Ken tries to focus on breathing and not the noises, but that doesn't stop the tremble in her thighs or the way she curses when he does something particularly good. He sits up suddenly, a hand braced on her lower back to reposition her until she's partially folded at the waist with her knees braced over his shoulders. The change in position is embarrassing enough—what's worse is the brief look she gets of him before he's on her again, hair mussed and with blood streaking the entire lower half of his face. Then she feels fingers prodding at her slit, right below where his tongue is, and she can't think about it anymore; she's too busy trying not to buck him off as a climax crashes over her.

He dutifully laps her through it, using his fingers to spread her open so he can lick easier at her walls—but he doesn't make any move to pull away even when overstimulation starts to make her whine. Ken realizes, abruptly, that she is going to be here for a while.

(She gets off two more times after that. Once she's stopped shaking and Wifies has licked his fingers clean, Ken recognizes that there's no way Wifies needed to feed for that long, so at some point he was just messing with her. She thwacks him in the nose a few times so they're even.)

[embrace-the-madness]

Shane: Shouldn't be talking about this stuff. That life, it's... It's gone and everyone in it. Sheila. Maryanne. Mrs. Kelly. It's like we're old folk. All the people in our stories are all dead. Rick: We can't just forget them. Shane: The hell we can't. It's hard enough accepting what's happened without digging up the past. I'll tell you what it is. It's nostalgia. It's like a drug. Keeps you from seeing things the way they are and that's a danger. You got people depending on you. Rick: You think I don't know that? Shane: I don't know. What are we doing? You got every able body at your disposal out scourging these woods for a little girl we both know is likely dead. Rick: You think we should abandon the search? Shane: It's not my call, is it? Rick: I'm asking. I'm asking! Shane: Survival, Rick. It means making hard decisions. But you... You've got this knack, man. You spread us thinner and thinner. I'm trying to save lives here and you're out... Saving cats from trees. Rick: Is that what you think Sophia is, a cat in a tree? Shane: Don't do that, man. Don't twist my words. How many times we get called up to look for a missing child, man? You got 72 hours. 72 hours, and after that you're looking for a body. And that was before. I mean you... You honestly think we're just gonna find Sophia alive? Rick: Are you that sure we won't? Shane: We being completely honest? Rick: I'm counting on you to be. Shane: It's math, man. Alive or not, Sophia, she only matters to the degree in which she don't drag the rest of us down. I thought you wanted honest. If we'd just moved on, man, we'd be halfway to Fort Benning right now and Carl wouldn't have gotten shot. You said so yourseIf. But we're out here, we're risking lives. Your own son almost died, man. Otis, he paid that bill. What the hell are we still doing this for? Rick: I had her in my hand, Shane. She looked in my eyes and trusted me. I-- I failed her. If I hadn't, she wouldn't be out here. I think she's still alive and I'm not-- I'm not gonna write her off.

[scullysexual]

You're Never Just Anything To Me (14)

@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter

A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.

XIV. All Things.

The room is dark when she wakes, the only light emitting from the TV which is turned down to the lowest possible volume without being on mute.

She is sideways, legs curled, her head leaning against a cushion which in turn leans against Mulder’s thigh. Scully shifts, untangles the blanket that has wrapped itself around her legs and when she looks up she finds Mulder watching her.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hey,” she answers with a yawn. “What time is it?”

“Late,” he tells her. “Past midnight. You looked fast asleep, I didn’t want to move you.”

Scully hums still feeling the pull of sleep trying to drag her back down. She shuffles closer, hitches a knee over his hip and settles down into his lap, her head finding a home beneath his chin.

Mulder chuckles nervously, hands hovering outstretched, unsure what to do.

“Scully, what are you doing?”

“I want to be close to you,” she answers with her eyes closed. She rests more comfortably against his chest. “Is this okay?”

“Is this…more than okay,” and his arms finally enclose around her.

She can’t get closer to him, she thinks. She wants to crawl her way inside his chest cavity, bury herself within him, become one of the same.

“Are you okay, Scully?” Mulder asks when he notes her fidgeting.

“Yeah, I just can’t…” She shifts and her centre grazes the slight raise of him. She gasps.

“Sorry,” he apologises but Scully shakes her head.

Silently, she climbs off of him, takes his hand.

“Come with me,” she says and leads him towards his bedroom.

She sits him down on the edge of the bed, starts to pull at her clothes, stripping them from her body, instructing Mulder to do the same.

“Like we were before,” she says and Mulder moves towards the centre of the bed, legs bent ever so slightly, his cock hard and upright between them.

Scully bites her lip as she stares at it, a desire lit beneath her. No matter how many times she has seen it her reaction never changes.

She hovers above him, hand wrapped around him as she pumps up and down a few times. Mulder sags against her chest while she uses his precum to wet his head.

They sigh in unison as she slides down onto him feeling the pleasant ache as she stretches around him. They stay like that, adjusting, until the need becomes too much for them.

Scully sets the pace, gliding up and down in slow, languid motions. Mulder holds onto her, thrusting up as much as she can, meeting her. His lips find hers, tongue invading, pushing its way into her mouth. She clutches at him, hands wrapped around his neck, fingernails digging into his skin. He growls into her mouth and she feels his own hands tightening around her hips, pulling her impossibly closer.

She is close now. Her head tips back and Mulder begins his exploration downwards, lips sucking and teeth biting at the skin of her neck. She feels herself being tipped backwards, a slow fall as Mulder changes their position. Above her now, her mouth is reclaimed by his and he begins thrusting into her with more control and determination.

On a particularly hard thrust, Scully yelps, a bout of pleasure bursting through her as she claws and scratches as every piece of Mulder that she can reach.

Later, she soothes one of her claw marks with her finger.

“Sorry,” she apologises, running her finger over the bottom of his neck.

Mulder chuckles. “It’s okay.” He takes her hand, presses a kiss to her palm, before lacing it with his own. “I think I marked you a little bit, too.” His own apologetic look sits on his face as his fingers brush over her neck. “Sorry,” he says offering his own apology.

“I don’t mind,” Scully answers.

“Really?”

“Really. I’m not scared of us anymore.”

Mulder smiles and she smiles back. He rolls them and Scully lets him, positioning her to lie on top of him. She lays beneath his chin, her eyes closing to the motion of his fingers skating up and down her spine.

“You were scared of us?” he asks.

“If we failed, how we could go back to how we were.” Mulder hums. “But I’m not scared anymore,” she says with certainty. “This is right.”

“Yeah, it is,” he says. She feels his arms and legs tighten around her, a big squeeze before she slowly drifts off to sleep.

[five-bi-five-mind]

May I please request, An unsub frames Reader for a lot of murders and reader is arrested and is sentenced to the death penalty. JJ and the team have a small amount of time to prove her innocence. (Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau X reader.)

Lost at Sea (Pt. 1)

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k+

Summary: This isn’t quite the prompt, but I took a lot of inspiration from this request… JJ feels lost, not knowing at all of what happened. One minute she was finally happy, the next it was all just gone. But then she gets the called. You were in trouble, digging too deep into something you shouldn’t have. Framed for murder, you had a means to prove your innocence, JJ just couldn’t figure out why you were refusing.

Warnings: brief mentions of blood, lots of talk about kind of depression and anger, tons of mentions of a cult and brief mentions of murder (no details though)!

A/N: hi I’m sorry this wasn’t exactly what you asked for but I still wanted to use this request to post my first part as it is what gave me part of the inspiration! So no death penalty mentioned (although reader kinda has her own death sentence rn if you ask me…) also if anyone can guess the video game reference I based the cult around, you should come be my best buddy. (It’s super obvious too 😅…)

Series Master List || Part 2

(Gif not mine; credit to creator)

Part 1: Tides

JJ didn’t feel like herself, not anymore. She had gone through life feeling particularly numb since she started this job, but this was a whole other level. It was like part of her shut completely down, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get feeling back. This numbness was uncomfortable to say the least. 

She wished she could say she didn’t know why she shut down so hard. She wished she could say it was a passing phase, a particularly bad mood that just hadn’t gone away yet, but she knew that wasn’t the case. This feeling was going to last a long while. At this point, it felt like it was going to stick with her for the rest of her life. She couldn’t run from the feeling and she couldn’t chase it away. JJ was just left with this unbearable emptiness.

That’s how JJ found her body moving on autopilot to the gym at such an ungodly hour. No one would be there, that’s why she chose the middle of the night to drive all the way to Quantico and utilize one of its many facilities. So, with her gym bag slung over her shoulder, she made her way to the punching bag that was practically calling out to her. She didn’t bother with standards right now. Any other day she would use hand wraps, gloves, you name it. But tonight she didn’t care. She just wanted to take out her emotions on the bag in front of her, consequences be damned.

So that’s exactly what she did. JJ put her full force into every swing, not stopping for the sting she felt in her knuckles, not stopping to catch a breath, and not stopping to react to the sound of footsteps in the back of the room. She only cared about the feeling it was giving her right now, no attention was paid to the watchful eyes behind her. JJ just kept swinging. 

With sweat coating her skin and her chest heaving, she kept going. Each time her fists made contact with the bag, the satisfying thud of her punch filled her chest with something she couldn’t quite describe. The numbness was still there, but at least there was something else bubbling past it. Anger maybe? Confusion? She could feel it slithering through her veins with each hit. At least it was better than closing herself off again. That’s not what she wanted for herself, but try all she might, she couldn’t stop it from overwhelming her. 

And then she thought about it too much. Thoughts of all the progress she made flooded her mind, thoughts of how she was trying to be something more than what the job had made her. She thought she was being vulnerable, thought she was being what someone else could want and need. Her world had opened up for her for the first time since she didn’t even know when and then suddenly, without reason, without explanation, it was gone. It was just fucking gone. 

If JJ was pulling her punches before, she most certainly wasn’t now. She let out a yell or more like a heartbreaking, pain filled howl into what she thought was an empty room as her fists picked up the pace for a moment. But after that moment was over, after she yelled all she could yell, she slumped forward, catching herself onto the bag to hold herself up as she panted and struggled to catch her breath.

She shut her eyes tight, working on regaining composure. All she heard for a moment was the sound of her breathing and her own pulse pounding in her ears. But then, after just a moment the silence was broken. Not by her, but the silent onlooker. 

“Wow,” the voice said from the back of the room. “Impressive. Mind spotting me?”

JJ stiffened. She didn’t have to turn around to know who was waiting for her. JJ knew the voice well and was cursing herself that she let someone, let alone one of her teammates, see her like this. Grunting, JJ shoved herself off the bag and decided to make her way hastily past her friend. “Sorry, I’m heading home for the night.” She hoped that would be enough for her not to be questioned, but of course it wasn’t. 

“What are you even doing here at this hour?” Tara didn’t even miss a beat. As JJ picked up her gym bag and made her way to the locker rooms, Tara was right on her heels.

“I could ask the same thing,” JJ fired back, still looking ahead as she made her way to her own locker.

“Everyone knows I come here this early.” JJ hadn’t even realized it wasn’t the middle of the night anymore, it was starting to become early morning. 5:30 is what her watch said when she glanced down. She had been working out for a good while then. JJ wondered just how long she was being watched. 

When she made it to her particular locker she sat down on the bench in front of it. Pulling out what she needed to repack into her gym bag and taking out what she would want for later, because she was sure she’d be back at this again before the day was done. This being the only thing that helped the numbing feeling she was drowning in, she thought it might become a more frequent habit. 

JJ was so lost in what she was doing she forgot for a second that Tara was still standing by her with watchful eyes. That is, until they both stopped for a moment to eye the red and purple bruising of her knuckles mixed with the trickle of blood that ran down her hands.

“Okay,” Tara sat down right next to JJ on the locker room bench. “What’s going on with you?”

“I was training,” JJ’s answer was short as she checked out the damage to her hands. 

“I’ve seen training, that was not training,” Tara scoffed. “When you train you're focused, but today you were going to town on that punching bag like it personally offended you.” 

JJ didn’t say anything, just grunted as she continued to look into her knuckles, getting angrier by the minute from the mistreatment she put them through with her so-called “training.” Of course she wasn’t training. She came to blow off some steam, to blow up at something since she couldn’t just scream at an innocent coworker. She didn’t expect Tara to be in the gym getting ready for a work out at the same time. She thought she picked a good time when everyone would be away. Clearly, with the other woman sitting next to her, she was very wrong. It wasn’t even her intention to stay here that long. She just lost track of time. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” JJ’s voice came out a little more bitter than she intended it to, but at the same time, someone was interrupting her much needed alone time. It wasn’t her fault that Tara insisted on being in the line of fire for her bad mood.

“It’s about (Y/N), isn’t it?” JJ’s head snapped up in an instance at that and Tara knew she found her answer. “I knew there was something between you two and my suspicions only grew when I saw you moping around the minute she was gone.” JJ’s whole demeanor changed at this, her tense posture changing to one of defeat. So it was a little obvious huh? Of course it was if her closest friends were profilers. Still, she thought they would mind their own damn business. “So what exactly was going on?”

“We… I was in love, but I guess it’s over now.” JJ’s head hung low as Tara stared expectantly at her. She remained silent, as JJ kept her eyes glued to the floor. If she looked up at her friend’s face what would she find? Shock? Disapproval? Disappointment? She couldn’t take the chance of seeing any of it. If JJ were to be given any other reason to be more ashamed with herself than she already was, she wasn’t sure how she could bear it. It wasn’t like it was exactly a bad thing for you two to be involved with each other, at least not in JJ’s opinion. But you also were often called as a consultant on cases since Reid was gone and it felt almost as if you were becoming a permanent member of the team. You had worried it would look bad for JJ if people knew she was having a fling with someone she frequently worked with, so the two of you decided to wait before going public. 

“How long?” Was all Tara whispered into the stillness of the locker room. “How long were you two…” she drifted off. JJ hadn’t named what it was, just admitted that it was something and that there were feelings involved. At least on JJ’s side, that is. It seemed to the outside eye, given the circumstances, that you didn’t feel the same or at least JJ didn’t know if you did or not. Either way, Tara wasn’t about to name what you two had herself, she’d leave that to JJ. Let her share what she felt she could. It must have been important though, at least in Tara’s opinion, if it was affecting her friend so visibly. Tara might have been newer to the team, but from early on she learned that the blonde was usually a closed book. 

“I’m not sure really,” JJ mumbled as she nervously rubbed at her bloodied knuckles. “A few months maybe? It didn’t really have a start date. She came in for one case then another and each time we got closer and closer until…”

“Until you fell in love?” Tara offered.

“Yeah,” JJ finally looked up to meet Tara’s eyes. “It didn’t end when I realized I loved her though.” JJ continued to rub at hands nervously. She didn’t miss the way Tara flicked her eyes from her own to her knuckles, no doubt reading her for whatever scrap of emotion JJ failed to hide. Even while JJ was caught in a more vulnerable position by her friend and coworker, she was still quick to guard herself, only giving Tara what she already knew was too late to hide again. “I didn’t run this time, but I never told her,” JJ let out a bitter chuckle. “For all that we face, that’s what terrified me most. Maybe it’s because I waited too long.” 

“It’s not easy,” Tara’s hand fell onto JJ’s shoulder. “We’re taught to close ourselves off from the emotions that come with seeing what we see every day for our job, but sometimes we can carry that over into our personal lives.” 

“I tried,” JJ shut her eyes tight for a moment, willing her voice to stay steady as she was hit with so much pain. “I tried with her. She was the first person I ever did that for. But she still- she just…”

“Disappeared.” JJ could hear the irritation in Tara’s voice with that one word too. It wasn’t just her that was upset, it was everyone. No one got an answer for why you disappeared. No one got even the smallest goodbye. Not even JJ, who had thought for sure her feelings were reciprocated. But it could never work out like that, right? Not with who JJ is, not with the depressing and dark nature of her job that you somehow got dragged into. 

Everyone grew attached to you the moment you agreed to be a consultant for the BAU. You were bright, you were happy, your pep once rivaled Garcia’s. But then it started to fade slower and slower. No one else saw, but JJ sure did and she would lie awake for countless nights next to you, wondering what to do to bring that light back. She never did figure it out, and she would be lying if she didn’t expect you to leave, but she had hoped you loved her enough to figure it out. What she didn’t expect was for you to up and disappear without a word. 

At first, JJ was worried. It felt like her worst nightmares came to life, that you were kidnapped by some unsub she didn’t know about. Then, as she dug to find out where you might have gone she realized from your credit card purchase history, it was unmistakably you still using it. It was clear you were trying to get away, and all she could assume from the sudden radio silence was that you were trying to get away from her.

The two agents sat in silence on the locker room bench for a moment. Both going over so many different things in their minds. JJ’s mind spiraling for the millionth time on your leaving and Tara’s running over every possible reason you could’ve just up and left without even a goodbye. Maybe JJ and you weren’t out in the open, but Tara clocked that there was something more between you two the moment she saw the way you looked at each other. So the real question for her was, how could you break JJ’s heart like that? You didn’t seem like the type to just ghost a girl, let alone the whole team. Something else was going on, Tara felt it deep in her bones. She just didn’t know what, but she did know that JJ was too clouded with heartbreak to see it that way just yet.

Suddenly, Tara’s phone breaks both their spiraling trains of thought. The caller ID flashes with Emily’s name and immediately Tara accepts, knowing that if it was this early in the day, then it was absolutely urgent. 

There’s a brief greeting before she fell silent to listen to what Emily had to say. Muttering a “uh huh” a few times before the expression on her face grew more somber. 

JJ could hear how frantic Emily sounded on the other end, but couldn’t make out the words she was saying. Fortunately, JJ didn’t have to wait long before Tara removed the phone from her ear and clicked end on the call.

JJ was holding her breath for Tara’s next words, but she had no idea why. Tara’s face was unreadable, but JJ just had this intuition that something bad was happening. 

“It’s (Y/N).” Tara’s tone was grim. “She’s in trouble.” 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took very little time for the team to devise a plan with the limited information they had after the news broke. JJ felt like her whole body was vibrating as she ran around the BAU trying to put out this new fire. And calling this situation a “fire” was an understatement. It was more like a gigantic explosion. Like her whole world was burning to the ground. 

Wanted for murder. Being held on at least three charges. That was ridiculous to say the least, but obviously the police had some strong evidence against you. JJ was going to fight this for you, she just had to learn how.

It didn’t matter to JJ why you left the minute she got the news. It didn’t matter how much heartache you gave her, how you brought her walls back up full force the minute you disappeared. Nothing mattered right now but getting you out of jail. JJ couldn’t begin to imagine the fear you felt. She knew you well, she knew you were innocent. In learning all she did, there was never one moment where she questioned your innocence in all this, and from what she saw of her team, they all agreed. So pain aside she was going to save you, the whole BAU was. 

That’s how she found herself speeding down the highway with Rossi behind the wheel, almost as anxious as she was. And that’s how she found herself letting Rossi take the lead, bursting into the federal jail and flashing credentials before anyone could even blink. 

Mere minutes was all it took for the people of the jail to set you up in an interrogation room so that JJ and Rossi could meet with you and get to the bottom of this garbage fire. The minute JJ saw you practically pushed into the room, she had to hold back a gasp at your appearance. You looked basically dead on your feet. Your face was incredibly pale, your eyes sunken and dark. JJ knew you well and guessed it had been a good while since you slept or even ate for that matter. She had to get you out of here, and from the brief glance she shared with Rossi, she knew he was thinking the exact same thing. 

When you both sat down, JJ let Rossi take the lead, lest she give away too much of her emotions. The switch from being overwhelmingly numb to incredibly furious hit the minute she saw your face. Not that she was furious at you. Hurt by you still, definitely. But not angry. No, she was angry at the people who put you here. Couldn’t they see that the innocent girl they had locked up like a monster wasn’t capable of any of this? 

“What are we doing here, (Y/N)?” Rossi was finally the first to speak. JJ’s nails were digging into her knees as she sat rigid on the seat across from you. She couldn’t bear to meet your eyes, even for a second so hers darted everywhere across the room but your face and yours seemed to do the same. Never in her life did JJ think she’d be terrified of an interrogation room, she was more than familiar with them by now, but there’s a first for everything. 

“I was poking around where I shouldn’t have…” you finally spoke. Your voice was quiet, hesitant, broken. It was the first words JJ has heard in weeks after begging whatever higher power would listen to let her hear it one more time. Her stomach twisted at the inkling of happiness she got from hearing you again, even if it was in such a small, pained tone. 

“I’ll say,” Rossi scoffed. “Poking around is a light way to put it if you’re here on multiple murder charges.” 

“I-“

“She didn’t hurt anybody.” JJ snapped before you could even begin to answer. 

“I know,” Rossi put his hands up in mock surrender. “I know that, you know that. We just have to convince them…” Rossi motioned to the room around them as if to mean the jail as a whole, “That this girl sitting next to us couldn’t hurt a fly.” Rossi leaned back on his chair and gave JJ a knowing look before turning his gaze back to you. He offered you a friendly smile and folded his hands back on the table. “Now, I’ll ask again. What are we doing here?”

“Do you remember months ago, when you investigated a cult? You called me in as a consultant, but before I could dig deeper you had already decided to rule out the cult…” you waited for a moment to make sure they were listening and knew of the group you spoke of. Rossi gave you an encouraging nod and you continued. “I didn’t stop digging and I found… everything.” 

“(Y/N), after that case I told you to leave it the hell alone.” JJ growled, nails digging harder into her knees as she struggled to keep it together.  “They’re a dangerous group to be mixed up in.” 

“Isn’t every cult?” Rossi interjected, before turning back to you. “So you continued to dig into this cult we ran into. What was it called… something stupid…” 

“The Chant.” You and JJ both say at once. JJ shot you an annoyed look at your eagerness to share all you know about the cult. JJ had begged Emily not to call you to consult on this, but you were the best in your field. A PhD in religious studies, specializing in ritual practice and folk religion, of course Emily was going to call. You were their go-to on religion based cases, without you they would’ve missed some key motives and insight into certain unsubs. JJ was always nervous, but also so proud to see you working with her work family. It was different, though, with this case. Something deep inside JJ screamed at her to keep you away from this group at all costs.

The team determined that the murders they were investigating were a deadend, but suspected the cult. It was just that every lead they had ended up going nowhere. Eventually, they had to move on. You were incredibly against just leaving and letting them be. JJ and the rest of the team had to practically drag you away. 

For what it was worth, you weren’t the only one who wanted to continue investigating them, Alvez did too. With his approval that only fueled your mission more to overturn every stone and uncover every clue, but it was JJ’s practical begging that had you finally turn away. Something, none of the team questioned. They may not have known that you two were more than friends, and on any other day maybe they’d be curious as to why you backed down so easily all of a sudden. However, most of the team was just relieved JJ could convince you. That alone told JJ she wasn’t the only one who didn’t like you sniffing around this Chant group. 

“But digging around on a dangerous cult usually gets you killed, not incarcerated.” Rossi commented as he continued to put the puzzle pieces together. 

“It was a clever move on their part,” you offer dryly.

 “They were already under suspicion for murder. One more body, one more step closer to getting shut down.” Rossi put the puzzle pieces together. 

“Exactly,” you nodded. “But I got too close, found out too much and I wasn’t exactly careful…”

“Of course you weren’t,” JJ scowled. 

You just ignored her and continued. “I knew they figured out I was looking into them when some of them showed up to a lecture I was giving, badly disguised might I add. They wear these crystals they can never take off without breaking a major law within their group. It’s a dead giveaway and-“ 

“We can go over the details of the cult later,” Rossi interrupted, not wanting to reveal too much in a monitored space. “You still haven’t answered how they put you here.” 

“Right right,” you took a deep breath before going back to your story. “When I saw them at my lecture, I knew they’d follow me. I know how they work, how they pick their victims, how they deal with those who know too much. I know what they do, not just to the person, but their whole family so on that day I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t let them follow me to-“ your eyes flick to JJ and you stop for a moment. “I couldn’t let them follow me home, so instead I just ran. What I didn’t expect was them to use my office to plant evidence in my absence and get me arrested.”

“So you fleeing… that just looks like you’re running from the cops and not running from a crazy, murderous cult.” Rossi finally connected the last piece. He seemed almost triumphant in this revelation.

“They have solid evidence against me,” you hung your head low. “The Chant is crafty.”

“They’ve got bullshit,” Rossi snorted. “Compared to what we deal with everyday, proving your innocence is child’s play.” You searched Rossi’s eyes for any sign of doubt but his facial expression was unwavering as he sat on the other side of the table from you. Finally, you chanced a short glance at JJ’s face, but it was her eyes that told you a different story than Rossi’s. It was her eyes that betrayed Rossi’s confident declaration. She didn’t believe him. “The whole team is on this case for you, kid. Give us a little bit of time, we’ll get you back home.”

Home. Regardless of getting out, could you even go home? Go back to a life where you could continue to be in love with JJ and build a future together? No, you didn’t think so. The cult would hunt you until either you were dead or all their members were. Considering this cult has been around since the 70s, discreetly murdering people for decades, you didn’t think the second option was very likely. You weren’t safe at home and more importantly, JJ wasn’t safe near you. But you weren’t even safe in jail, knowing the cult had eyes everywhere. Your only option, when you get out of here, was to hide again. Not much of a future? Maybe, but at least you were surviving until you could find a solid way to expose the Chant.

In a perfect world, this whole mess would lead to you blowing the case on the cult wide open and running back into the arms of your beautiful, blonde, hero that was currently sitting across from you with the most heartbreaking expression you’ve ever seen. But that was in a perfect world. You meant it when you said they were crafty and you also knew you really fucked up. Yes, you learned almost all there was to learn about the Chant, but you weren’t careful and you’re pretty sure they were able to learn almost all there was to learn about you in return. Hopefully, they hadn’t learned of the little secret relationship you had with the girl sitting across from you. Part of you thought they surely couldn’t, especially when you didn’t think the team knew. A larger part of you doubted that, but couldn’t take that chance. 

Rossi and JJ both noticed your silence when Rossi mentioned you going home. To anyone else, hearing the BAU was on the case and you’d be going home would’ve garnered some sort of positive reaction, but JJ saw through your silence. There was a lot more to this than they had uncovered yet, JJ could tell from just looking into your eyes. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe that they could get you home, JJ knew that you understood the skill and success their team had. It wasn’t that you wanted to stay in jail. JJ knew you were smart enough to know that being here wouldn’t protect you like the team could protect you. No, it was something else. Something that made the little voice in the back of her mind scream at her that it was her that you wanted to be away from her, but she pushed that voice back. She didn’t have all the pieces to this puzzle yet, but she was going to find them. 

For the next few hours JJ and Rossi spent the time with you pouring over any detail they could pry out of you. Neither of them missed the way you held back on a lot of their questions or the way your eyes darted around the room, trying to discover who else might be watching. When JJ was given some other files requested, she read through them thoroughly while you and Rossi went over a few more details to the evidence they found. Then, JJ stopped when she looked at the details from one of the murders. The date and time is what caught her eye and she immediately shot up in her chair. 

“This is it!” She slapped the file back down onto the table and her eyes burned with triumph as she waited for you to look at the file. You and Rossi glanced at it for a moment before both silently looking up at her for more of an explanation. “Look at the time frame for this murder,” JJ tapped her finger right where it said the time. “You have an alibi for this one. Wait actually…” JJ shuffled through the other murder charges, checking the date and time for each. “You have one for all of them.” 

You sat back, crossing your arms to your chest and giving her a stern look. This was it, you were hoping she wouldn’t have noticed, but it was JJ and she was good at her job. Of course she would notice. “Jennifer…” you warned. 

“(Y/N), you were with-”

“Don’t.” 

JJ’s jaw snapped shut when you cut her off with a voice harsher than she’s ever heard directed towards her. JJ stood up at that, chair scraping loudly against the hard floor of the interrogation room. “What? Why didn’t you tell them you had an alibi?” JJ’s voice grew louder as she accused you. This could’ve all been avoided if you just told them you were with another BAU agent the night the investigators placed the time of death. No one would question your alibi if you just said something. So why didn’t you? “Do you think I care if they know? (Y/N), just tell them, all those nights you and I were-”

“Stop!” You pleaded. If she said the words out loud, you weren’t sure if all who were listening to them were to be trusted. Yes, you had a solid alibi, but it could’ve put her in danger if the cult knew about JJ. It was bad enough now that JJ knew the cult was what drove you away and landed you in jail, there was no doubt in your mind that JJ wouldn’t try to start some wild hunt for them if you didn’t find some way to convince her to back off. But if the cult knew about how important she was to you? In all honesty, they might already, but there was still a chance they didn’t and you held onto that hope that she was still somewhat safe from the mess you got yourself into.

JJ’s hands slamming on the table in front of you is what sent you back to reality from your inner turmoil about keeping JJ safe. “I don’t care if they know.” JJ emphasized every single word. Obviously, that wasn’t what this was about, but for JJ’s sake hopefully that’s all she thought it was. If she thought for a moment that you were trying to protect her she’d scoff in your face and risk her safety to prove a point that she didn’t need your protection. She was strong, sure, but from what you learned, the cult was immensely powerful and you didn’t think the BAU team’s strength combined would be enough to take them down until you could devise a plan on your own. “We’re using that alibi and you’re going home.”

“No. I am not.” You demanded through gritted teeth. There’s no way in hell. The minute you use that to get yourself free, the Chant will get their hands on it and use this piece of information against you. “JJ, I don’t want to do that.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” JJ practically took a fist full of the files as she began to turn from the table and storm out of the room. 

“JJ, wait a minute!” Rossi jumped up behind her. “Maybe we should listen to her reason about-”

“I don’t give a damn about reason.” JJ turned on him quick, a storm of anger and frustration brewing in her eyes. “(Y/N) and I were together for each of these times of death. She wasn’t alone in her home, she was with me for the whole night, each night. We’re together and I’m pretty sure there’s footage on my security cameras proving the times of her coming and leaving my place.” JJ turned back around, files clutched tightly to her chest. “We’re using this alibi and you’re going home with me. You won’t stay here another minute longer than you have to. I’ll see to that.” JJ’s voice was shaking in anger as she said her last words.

You watched helplessly as Rossi shot you a concerned look before following JJ out. You slumped back in your chair while you waited for someone to escort you back out.

Well, this wasn’t good. You knew that you’d be found innocent at some point, but you thought it would be awhile. Afterall, when you made that phone call to Emily for help, you begged and pleaded for her to keep it to herself and get some outside help. Of course, that is the exact opposite of what happened. You should’ve known. The BAU were fiercely loyal to each other and you underestimate the degree in which they adopted you into their little work family. 

You had hoped that in the time it took Emily to help you out, you’d have come up with a plan to get distance from JJ again for her own safety while you tried to figure out your next move against the cult. Of course, that all went to shit with the stubborn insistence of the blonde. Honestly, you weren’t shocked. 

This wasn’t going to go the way you wanted it to, it already took a horrible turn. Deep down, though, you feared the worst was yet to come. 

tag list:@mmmmokdok @demonicbaby666 @daddy-jareau @geekyandgay98

[bunnylovesani]

I know you said that you want to move on from this, but I have to tell you my thoughts because I can’t stop thinking about all of this.

I am a content creator as well, and I write for Anakin. I have been writing for various characters from various shows for years on here, and nothing - nothing - is more toxic than this fandom right now.

From everything I’ve witnessed, I can only attribute it to one person. Indy.

Unfortunately he cannot be helped because of how vain he is, which aren’t even my words. They are his. And it would be fine, if he just left other people alone.

But indy is a bully. A big bully. He polices this whole fandom like he’s got nothing better to do at all. And I’m so sick of it. It makes me and other creators feel like we have to walk on eggshells when we post on here (thus why I am anon. Because god forbid indy sees this, and his little squad of bitter rejects try to ‘cancel’ me too - which, don’t even get me started on cancel culture).

Indy has been called out for creating things before that other people don’t like. His advice? “Just block, don’t read, keep scrolling.” How fucking hard is it to practice what you preach, rather than dragging a new person through the mud each week?

Not to mention, that shit indy was spewing a few weeks back about “not liking how other creators are writing about Anakin because it’s not correct” ? “Be careful with my toy?” “I’m taking him back until you can learn how to handle him correctly?” What kind of entitlement let’s him believe Anakin is HIS to write for only. Anakin is not his idea. He is not his toy. He is George Lucas’s idea that EVERYONE can enjoy, and play with.

And his opinion is not the only correct one out there. I don’t care how much “character studying” he’s done, he can be wrong. Other people can “character study” and come up with completely different conclusions about Anakin. And he can also just let people write what they want to write. Don’t like it? Block, don’t read, keep scrolling. Stop fucking posting about it and laying claim to something that was never his to begin with.

I tried to support indy, because again, he is a phenomenal writer. but he’s way too problematic. It makes me sick seeing his name pop up on my feed, cause that blog literally emits toxic energy.

I am sorry he sunk his claws into you.

Anyways, this isn’t about indy. He was told it was a private matter so he had no reason to butt his big head in anyway. This is about you and Ava.

While Ava may have written an Anakin stalker au, she DOES NOT own it. Nobody own that. Cause nobody owns the ideas of stalkers, and nobody owns the idea of Anakin except GL and Disney. Your work does not resemble hers even slightly. And whose to say someone else hasn’t already written that au in the past? Maybe it’s buried somewhere in tumblr’s vaults. Do they own that idea? Should you dig through years of posts and credit them somehow?

The whole idea is ridiculous. You credit people for their original ideas if you are inspired by them and have permission to use it. You do not need to ask permission or credit something that belongs to everyone.

I could start writing about, I don’t know, firefighter!anakin right now - do I then OWN that au?

Fuck no!

We are all here for the same reason. To write fake scenarios about fake people. Of course, don’t blatantly steal peoples words and ORIGINAL ideas, but the fact that people are spouting all this bullshit about OWNING these common au-ideas now is crazy. Unless you’ve done some kind of world-building or OC-creating, that shit is not original. It’s been done before and it will be done again. Cry about it.

Now let’s bring the linecook Anakin au into consideration. How is it fair that Tilly can write about it, not credit anyone, and get away scotch free? Why didn’t she get called out like you did?

Granted she took it down, but I still think it’s horseshit. Nobody owns that idea. I’ve seen it used for so many different characters on various platforms. She did not have to take it down for some bullshit law indy place on this fandom.

I really am saddened that so many people got dragged into this. Ava left; an amazing content creator. Tilly deleted her work; also an amazing creator. And indy continues to show his true colors; an entitled asshole who can’t let anyone breathe on here.

I want to go back to when this shit was enjoyable. Now all I see on my feed is people throwing each other around because no one can play nice anymore.

Don’t steal peoples ideas. But don’t claim ideas as your own if they are NOT original.

I am on your side bunny. I think you’ve made some very good points, and I commend you for keeping your work up and for standing up for yourself.

At the end of the day, you are a victim of circumstance. I truly just think people need to stop dick riding indy. And I know if he ever sees this, he’ll try to make some witty comeback that only halfway makes sense. he always sounds so defensive when he tries too hard to make it seem like he doesn’t care. He probably cries himself to sleep over these things. I think he needs that.

DAMN ANON. Wish I knew who you were so I could kiss you.

I second everything you’ve said. Blocking me without giving me the chance to respond or explain to a public post made about me was very high and mighty as well as cowardly of him.

I don’t have much more to add since I said I was done talking but I’m gonna post this masterpiece so others can read it.

Seriously thank you for taking the time to write this out and share your valuable thoughts, much love ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡