#theres a read stain on the paper

[dawnthefluffyduck]

This game is so pretty 🥹

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[hwalovs]

Absolution, My Fine Friend (M)

Pairing; Priest! Jayce x Fem!Reader Word Count; 4.9k Warnings; Porn Without Plot (kind of), mutual masturbation, finger sucking, drooling (Jayce), he gets talked through it, misuse of the confessional, trying not to get caught, paper eating, misuse of a bible, blasphemy, religious kink, corruption kink.

Summary; Father Talis has done his best to forget the sin that permeates his office, taking refuge in the confessional. Maybe, by listening to other ask to be forgiven, Father Talis himself can earn his absolution.

First Sin; Temptation Second Sin; Absolution (currently here)

A/N; this can be read on its own, i think, but part one was a hit in my books and i couldn't stop thinking about Father Jayce and reader. Theres also a little someone on ao3 who sent the most amazing comment and I got a fire ignited under my ass so now we're here. Again, this is dedicated to my babies on discord, all of them. This wouldn't be here without them. Anywho, enjoy!

THIS IS NOT EDITED!

DO NOT COPY, REPOST ON OTHER SITES, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK WITHOUT PERMISSION!

Absolution; Formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment. 

It’s customary for the Priest to wait in the confessional, sitting in the small box for the small door on the other side to open, a person to come sit down, and confess to him their sins. From there, he would listen, give advice, and pray with them before sending them on their way. It was something he had done multiple times before, finding comfort in the enclosed space. His own body heat would keep him warm, heating the small space rather quickly. Taking off his rosary, he could drag the small chain through his fingers, playing with the beads. He would think of prayers, roll a bead between the pads of his fingers, grip the small cross and lightly kiss it. He would do this for hours, sometimes someone would arrive, sometimes there would be no one. 

The sun was shining brightly through the small lattice on the door in front of him, directly in his eyesight, blinding him. Gold light filtered through stained glass, casting an array of colorful rays across the pews and patrons. Eyes clenched shut, he sits taller while leaning his head back against the wood, sighing. There was an imaginary clock in his mind, constantly ticking away, bringing a faux comfort. He could hear the slight commotion of people still in the church, talking to loved ones and neighbors who were all smiles and high off of the worship he held. He needed something more to keep him distracted, the LED clock in the confessional was silent, unlike the clock in his bedroom. Its ticking filled his mind now, his foot tapping the ground along with it. 

Arms moving, he moves the slowly sliding bible back into its place on his lap, the book small enough to sit idly on his thigh. It rocks back and forth in time with the bouncing of his foot, the movement bringing yet another distraction.

He wished to go back to his room, sit at his desk in his office- no, the desk in his bedroom. He hadn’t sat at the desk in his office for eight days, two hours- his eyes crack open to peek at the small LED clock in the corner of the confessional- and forty-five minutes. He prayed for the strength to sit at the mahogany desk, to write correspondence to other churches, and send letters to the people who gracefully sent donations. 

Yet, perhaps he didn’t pray hard enough, didn’t kneel at the side of his bed long enough. Didn’t sit in this small box long enough. Perhaps, God has turned his nose up at him, forsaken him from the greatness of being forgiven. Even now, your ghost had its claws wrapped around his heart like a vice, whispering obscenities into his ear while he was alone. You were the one who led him down this path, and now he searched for the bright light of God with his eyes closed. 

Guilt eats away at the fibers of his soul, rips him apart late at night when the image of you appears in his mind, a giggling smile on your lips as they skim across his throat. Your hands were so warm, though, dragging across his body without condescendence. He would wake up and find himself sweating profusely in his cold room the next morning, breathing heavily as his hands grip the blanket. With shaking legs, he would sit up and rip the drawer of his night stand open, glare at the blue rosary that was tied tightly around a small bible, and grab his new one. 

He would drop to his knees, heart racing, and pray until the sweat on his back dried. 

Even now, he thinks he can sense you in this enclosed space with him. Your scent lingering in the air around him, permeating his clothes no matter how many times he changes or washes them. 

Hands gripping his rosary, he hopes the metal cross cuts into his skin. Maybe then, if he sacrificed his blood, God would see he was punished long enough. Maybe then, he could be forgiven. Your face appears in his mind, and his teeth clench. How could you do this to him? Reduce him to nothing but the filth that lines the pristine floors?

Jayce startles when the door on the other side opens, his breath quick as he shifts in place. Clearing his throat, he waits for the person on the other side to get comfortable, their throat clearing. It's silent then, both Jayce and the newcomer getting comfortable with each other. Jayce’s eyes clenched shut, your scent washing over him with newfound strength, the hair on the back of his neck stands and as if he was struck with lightning-

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Your voice. 

His heart shakes, muscles tight and his breath short. Immediately, he thinks he can zone in on your breathing, so calm and quiet. Eyes cracking open, his head tilts to the lattice, and he can see your lips curved into a smirk. It's sickening, how the sight of you can make him feel so electric. You ignite something deep within him, akin to a lighter held under a sparkler. His stomach clenches, and his leg stalls its bounce. Fingers gripping his rosary, the sudden weight of the bible in his lap taunts him. 

“I’ve never confessed before, could you guide me?”

“I-” his voice squeaked out, and he snapped his jaw shut. Swallowing, Jayce looks back to his lap, gazing at the rosary. Was it just him, or did it suddenly look like the blue one he cast aside? Was the small figure of Jesus gazing with accusatory eyes? Did he know what was reeling in his mind at the sight of you?

“Father?”

His eyes shut tight, head falling towards his chest, shoulders hunched, robes tight over his shoulders, “I listen to your confession.”

It took a lot of strength to force his voice into a steady cadence. The small box seemed to be a little too small, he seemed too big to be in here. What once was comfort, was now torment. Your voice filled his side, bouncing off the wood and surrounding him.

“I give you advice, and you’ll- um,” he shifts in his spot, refusing to meet your gaze through the lattice, “You’ll be on your way.”

“Are you alright, Father?” You’re smiling, he just knows it. He can see your face behind his eyelids, how bright your gaze is, how your pupils are dilating at the sight of him so unkept. 

Nodding his head, he takes one more deep breath. He couldn’t let you see him like this, he was supposed to push what happened between you to the back of his mind. Forget it, even. He was praying to God for forgiveness, and by letting you entrap his senses, he would be pushed back to step one. 

“What was that?” Taunting, you hum, “I didn’t quite hear you.”

Shivering, he lifts his head and finally gazes through the lattice, meeting your sharp eyes. They’re encapsulating, looking at him with knowing. You can see him for what he truly is, a man of sin. 

Yet, it was your fault he was like this, why he swallows a whine and lets his mouth open to answer. If he were to put on a strong front, you would understand why he couldn’t progress in this sinful back and forth. Couldn’t let you torment him with your pretty words, or your addicting touch. 

“I’m here to listen to your confession, please just-” voice trailing off, his hands grip the rosary for comfort, but all he finds is the sharp edges of the cross. 

You chuckle, head leaning against the wood, raising your hand to tap your forehead, chest, and each shoulder. 

“In the name of the Father, Son, and The Holy Spirit. My confession, Father, is that I cannot stop thinking about you.”

Jayce smiles, gaze locked onto his rosary, “That’s normal- I’m your Priest-”

“No, Father,” voice quiet. serious, you shift closer to the lattice, “I think of you when my fingers are inside me, I wish they were yours-”

Muscles tight, Jayce says the first thing that comes to mind, “that was a mistake-”

“Was it? You seemed to enjoy yourself a lot, Father.”

“Temptation is a powerful thing, but you must find it in yourself to resist.”

There’s silence on the other side, your gaze assessing him. Humming, you let your head swing to the side, your own fingers rubbing across the tops of your thighs absentmindedly. 

“How can I resist, Father?”

Finally, his lungs allow air in. He breathes deeply, ignoring his shaking hands. He ignores the fire in his gut, how his thighs clench together, and recites words from the book still resting in his lap, “Asks for guidance out of temptation, and for the strength to use the Word of God as a weapon.”

“Ah,” you sigh, “the Word of God as a weapon? Do you really think that’ll save me?”

There's a teasing tilt to your tone, and Jayce ignores it. Voice closer, you whisper through the lattice, “have you been saved, father?”

“I ask for forgiveness, just as you are now,” he whispers in return. Hands shaking, he lets his fingers return to fidgeting with the rosary beads. His mouth waters, wanting you to drop it into his mouth-

No, he cannot think of that. He was a holy man. Faithful to his God.

“So, you’ve confessed?”

Nodding, he bites his cheek, his skin burning, “I- I have.”

“Liar.”

White hot fear runs through his veins, and his hands unknowingly release the rosary. It clatters to the ground between his feet, and his eyes meet yours. They narrowed, disappointingly pointed his way; All of a sudden, he felt the roles reversed. 

“No-”

“How often do you think of me, Jayce?”

Heart racing, his hands grip the tops of his thighs, feel the muscles beneath tighten. 

His chest heaves, and his legs clench together. Pushing back that licking flame that ignited between his legs, all because of your voice. It's sticky-sweet like honey, drowning him in molasses that clogs his senses. He can feel his cock twitch, wanting your touch instead of his. 

Head leaning back against the wood, he can feel a droplet of sweat run down the back of his neck, soaking into the roman collar. His shaking hands move to grip his bible, fingers sliding between the pages to seek any form of strength. He can hear it rip under the pressure of his grip, yet how else would he ground himself? His mind races, feeling your eyes staring at him through the lattice

“Does your God know you think of me as much as you do him?”

Jayces’ shuddering breath is loud, eyebrows furrowed as he wills his racing heart to calm. He must not give in. This must be another test for him, he thinks. This was God's way of seeing if he was worthy of forgiveness. 

Yet, you seemed so genuine, even if you sounded teasing. 

“What do you tell yourself at night? Maybe I could speak the same, so I can forget about you.”

A whine, and Jayce thinks he doesn't want you to forget him. He couldn’t forget you, no matter what he did, what he said, or tried. Stomach turning, he can see your waiting eyes, how you won’t change the subject until he gives in. 

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us of our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

“Ah,” you nod your head once, “Do you want to be forgiven, though?”

He’s silent, clenching his teeth, “Of course.”

You sigh, and with a low voice you talk with a harsh tone, “then why are you still speaking to me?”

“I-” voice stuck in his throat, Jayce knows he’s had the opportunity to steer the conversation back, to not engage you in such sinful conversation. Yet, he craved it. To be told what to do, to be on his knees between your knees instead of the altar. 

“Oh,” you say, Jayce freezing. Had you read him so easily?

“Oh, you’re liking this, aren’t you?”

Whining, his thighs clench. You laugh, and it makes his chest seize. Cock jumping in his robes, Jayce refuses to touch himself. There were people outside, they would hear-

“I’m liking this too,” you whisper, and he can hear the first button pop from your pants. Shoulders tense, his breathing turns rapid. 

“You’ve plagued my mind everyday, Jayce, its tormenting-”

A zipper, and Jayce can feel his thighs shake. His fingers curl against the pages, and he clenches his eyes shut. You were taunting him, you wouldn’t touch yourself now, in the confessional of all places. 

“You-” he whines, “you’ve been tormenting me-”

“Good,” a sigh, and he wishes to be in the small space with you, to tear down this wall to see your form in all its glory, “should we pray together, Father? Beg together for forgiveness?”

Shivering, he pushes his head further against the wood, swallowing with a dry throat. 

“Lord God, in your goodness have mercy on me: do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt. Create in me a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit-”

Your voice starts immediately after his, repeating his words, breathy and soft. The fire, slowly swelling in his stomach, licks and burns at his chest at the sound of your sweet voice wrapping around each syllable of the prayer. He sets the bible in the small space beside him, sliding his free hands across his torso. 

He moves, fingers undoing the buttons of his robes. With a shaking grip, he slowly pushes it to the side, the air wrapping around his thighs. Cock jumping, Jayce whines softly. His hands rest on the inside of his thighs, his cock radiating heat under his boxers. Chest shuddering, his back slouches, legs spreading. 

“forgive all my sins, renew your love in my heart, help me to live in perfect unity with my fellow Christians that I may proclaim your saving power to all the world.”

Tone shaking, he barely opens his eyes to find you already looking at him. Your own eyes were half lidded, chest heaving as your mouth opened to copy him once more. He can barely see you, but he can make out how your shirt was pulled up on your tummy, your pants undone, your hand hidden under the fabric. Your back was arching, neck exposed to the light that seeps in. 

He can’t help himself, his hands grip his cock over his boxers, hips jumping into the contact. Jayce growls, rough and gravely as he grips the base of his clothed cock.

“Jayce,” you whimper, and he moans. You sounded so heavenly, his mind reeling at the cadence. 

“Do you think we’ll be forgiven?” You ask, smirking. He shakes his head, and watches as your gaze shifts to the ceiling. Eyes closing, your eyebrows furrow as you lose yourself in your own pleasure. Jayce whimpers, wanting to be the one giving you that pleasure, he wants you to be above him, using him, punishing him for being so sinful. 

“Keep talking, Jayce, be a good boy.”

“Hnng- I-” he chokes, snapping his gaze to his lap. There was a rapidly growing wet patch at the tip of his cock, he grips the top of his boxers, pulling the elastic away to push it down his thighs. The fabric is tight against his skin, straining. With his cock finally free, he softly trails the tips of his shaking fingers along the shaft. Twitching, he presses his finger into the beads of pre that seeps from the tip. 

“Tell me another prayer, Father,” it's harsh now, how your eyes glare at him. He bites his cheek, sparing a glance to the bible next to him, searching his mind for anything to say. All he could think of, though, was you. 

“Therefore, confess your sins to- to one another and pray for one another-” he sighs, tears gathering on his waterline as he finally grips his cock tightly. His thumb swipes across the tip, and he moves his wrist once, slowly pumping his cock from top to base, and back up again, its uncoordinated, sloppy, “that you may be healed. The p- hnn- prayer of a righteous person has great power as it- it is working.”

“I want to taste you, Jayce,” you whisper. He hips jerk, and his eyes snap to the lattice separating you both. You’re so much closer, and when he leans close to look closer, he can see your pants pushed down your thighs. The soft skin of your thighs looked so inviting, spread as far as the restricting clothing will allow, your fingers circling your pulsing clit as your other hand grips onto the edge of the seat. 

“You can’t,” he whimpers, much louder than he intended. He wanted nothing more than for your mouth to taste him, replace his shaking hand and bring him to euphoria once more. 

“I can,” you reply with a hiss, “the gap is wide enough, let me taste you.”

Jayce furrows his eyebrows, his focus turning to how big the gap actually was, it was small enough that at a glance you wouldn't be able to decipher what was on the other side. Yet, if you looked close enough, you’d be able to tell what was what. His hand leaves his cock, gathering his sticky pre onto the pad of his middle finger, and slowly raises it to the gap in the lattice. His chest shudders as he watches you move, meeting your lips on the other side. 

His moan is loud, reverberating in the space as your wet tongue wraps around his finger. You're sucking hard, teeth grazing his skin, the breath escaping your nose warm on his already scorching skin. 

Your mouth is gone just as quickly as it wrapped around his digit, your tongue swiping across your bottom lip as your hand drips deeper on your cunt, no doubt pushing them inside. 

“You’re an angel,” you whisper, and Jayce’s back arches slightly. His hand retracts from the lattice, immediately running the spit coated skin across his lower lip before sucking his own finger. He could taste you, the candy you ate, the coffee you drank, and he could taste himself. A tangy saltiness that lingers in the back of his throat. 

He almost sobs, drool dripping down to coat his palm. When he pulls his finger away, his hands are replaced onto his cock, now glistening with the collection of his and your spit. He doesn’t realize that he’s gasping for air, his legs shaking, the choked sound of a whimper pushing from his throat. 

“Be quiet, Jayce.”

Licking his lips, he clenches his thighs shut, pushing his head back against the wood. His cock was throbbing in his grip, and when he slowly rubbed his thumb across the tip, he moaned. 

“I-” he swallows, throat suddenly too dry, “I can’t, I’m sorry-”

You sigh, and he can feel his stomach clench, “grab your Bible, show it to me.”

“What?-”

“Show me your Bible, now,” you hiss, and his hand leaves his cock to grab the leather-bound book. Raising it, he refuses to look at the gold writing across the front. 

“Good boy, open it up for me, any page will do.”

Dropping it from your gaze, he lets the binding fall to any page, heaving as his eyes blearily look over the page. The text was so small, mixing together in a conglomeration of sentences and prayer he could no longer read. All he could think of was you you you you-

“Rip out a page, and put it in your mouth.”

Freezing, Jayce finds it hard to breathe. Rip out a page? That’s blasphemous.

“Since you love to recite God's words so much, why don't you eat them so no one can hear what's rightfully mine?”

Jayce can’t, he simply can’t. By doing this, he would never be forgiven- 

Yet, would you forgive him if he refused?

You can sense his racing mind, your voice a calm beacon in the rough waves of a storm, “Tell me another prayer, Father- One more, just for me.”

Jayce breathes deeply, calming himself, “You are my refuge and strength; no matter what happens, I trust You and will not be afraid.”

“Good boy,” you coo, “do as you're told, Jayce.”

Mind over matter, Jayce forces his unwilling hands to rip a page, bringing it slowly to his lips. The pages were thin, and when he pushed it against his tongue, his spit immediately soaked through it. The ink was slowly seeping from the paper, bitter against his tongue. He looks at you, teeth chewing down onto the paper to keep it in place. 

Smirking, you tilt your head, “another.”

He rips multiple pages at once, pushing them between his teeth to meet the other. 

You scoff, “such a good boy, doing what you’re told. Yet, you can’t follow your own God’s teachings.”

He can do nothing but whimper around the pages, his hand dropping the bible to the ground to grab back onto his cock, jerking his wrist to the sound of your voice. 

“You would do anything I ask, wouldn’t you?” You taunt, your own hand picking up its pace. Sweat shines on your forehead, lips glistening with spit as you shift in your spot, your other hand joining the one on your cunt. Whimpering, you push your own fingers inside, the other still circling your swollen and throbbing clit. 

“How far would you go for me, I wonder?” A sigh, and your eyes close. Smiling at the thoughts that race through your mind, “would you leave the priesthood for me?”

His head nods before he even realizes it, your head snapping to watch him, smile widening. 

With the small semblance of clarity in his mind remaining, Jayce thinks of the forgiveness he’s been begging to receive for weeks. 

It’s always been you, he realizes. You’re the one he seeks forgiveness from, you’re the one who he prays to each night. Not the God whose teachings he no longer follows. Not the God who judges him for feeling emotions only you can bring him. You would forgive him, you wouldn’t judge him for his actions. He would do anything for you, he thinks. If you asked him, he would be yours- he was yours from the moment you sat on his desk.

His pleasure washes over him in waves, no longer held back by guilt. He allows his hand to squeeze, feels the bite of pleasure in his thighs. 

Your whine makes his hand jerk faster, that sweet noise the only thing that he seeks out in the night. Breathing heavily, he bites down on the pages still lodged in his mouth. Some were becoming too soggy, the ink transferring onto his tongue. 

“I’m so wet, Father-” you sigh, and he can hear your fingers run through your sloppy folds. It’s pathetic, how his hips rise off the seat to chase after it. He wanted to see, wanted to taste you-

“Do you want a taste? I bet you do.” He whines, tongue pressing against paper and you laugh. It's quiet, airy as you release a breathy moan. His eyes strain to watch your mouth drop open, your fingers pressing against your tongue. Eyes watering, he clenches them shut and leans his head forwards against the lattice, the wood cool against his scorching skin. 

Your fingers trail down your chin, chest heaving, and you push your hand back through your folds. Your soft skin glows in the light, blue’s and pink’s coloring you Holy as your glistening fingers come back into view. Instead of raising to your lips, they slowly close in on the small openings of the lattice. Your other fingers were still inside you, he realizes, you were halting your own pleasure just to tease him. 

“Why don’t you taste what I give? Rather than your God,” you taunt, glint in your eyes. Without hesitation he lets the soggy paper drop from his mouth, drool pouring from behind. Down his chin, soaking his beard. Bits of paper remain on his lips, the bitter taste of ink left behind. He can faintly hear the paper hit the floor, a wet smack, and he runs his tongue across his lip. He didn’t want anything to dilute your taste, not even his own spit. 

The tips of your fingers appear on his side, and he surges forwards to meet them. His tongue touches soft skin, lips pressed against wood. You push further into his mouth, your slick coating his taste buds. It washes away the taste of paper and ink, his body shivering as his hand grips tight onto his cock. It pulses, begging for your touch instead of his.

“I wonder what God would think, you forsaking his word for such sin.”

He whines, tongue parting your middle and ring finger to taste the slick between, feeling you press down onto his tongue, sliding as far as the lattice will allow. You almost hit the back of his throat, and he pushes harder against the wood, wanting you as deep as possible. 

“Fucking-” you hiss, retracting your finger and quickly licking across the tips before pushing them back between your folds. The sloppy-slick sounds louder than before, his hand trying to catch up to your rapid pace. 

There's a fire growing inside him, quick and unrelenting as his hand sloppily jerks his cock. His thighs twitch, toes curling in his shoes as his lungs beg for more air. Although he was gasping, he felt like he wasn’t getting enough air. 

“Don’t you fucking cum yet,” your voice growls, and he sobs. Pressure behind his eyes, scalding tears on his cheeks, his tongue searching for your taste that lingers. 

“Jayce-”

“Please- I-” he whispers, hearing the horrifying sound of heels against the floor outside of the confessional. Could they hear what was happening inside? Hear how their priest was touching himself, committing a sin he was no longer guilty about? 

His hand falters, cold humiliation creeping over his shoulders. 

“Ignore them, puppy-” your voice borders a whisper, “keep going- tell me another prayer.”

He looks to you, sniffling lightly as his hand resumes its previous pace. Nodding your own head, you encourage him. There was a gathering heat in his gut, embers collection to prepare a large bonfire. Your gaze threw wood onto it, flames catching quickly. His thighs felt gooey, his mind blank, but he wills himself to think of any prayer, just for you. 

“To all those- those that repent of in this wise- Oh, hnn- and look to J-Jesus- Christ for their salvation. F-fuck- I declare- that the absolution of sins is effected- please, oh fuck- In the name of the F-father- and of the son, oh- hnng ‘m gonna- Wait-”

“You can finish father, come on-”

“Mm- and- i can’t- h-hold-” he begs, your voice pushing him impossibly closer. 

“And of the Holy Spirit, Amen-”

Fire under his skin, and he feels his release begin. A raging fire in his gut, spreading to his thighs and chest. It tingles so intensely, and his hand clamps over his mouth, biting onto his palm to muffle his strained moan. Blinding white explodes behind his eyes, and he can faintly hear your cooing voice talking him through it. He wanted to hold your hand through this intensity, wanted your calming embrace rather than the prayer that was seared into his mind. God could no longer provide comfort, for you had burned him away to make space for your own presence.

He can hear your own whines, choked moans as you, no doubt, go through your own orgasm. You bite down on your cheek to keep yourself silent, hips canting into your hands to chase that pleasure. Jayce tries to watch, but his hands feel his thighs, and can't think of anything else but the euphoria he was feeling. 

Heavy breathing is what he hears when he comes back, his hands and skin covered in his own sticky release, cock still throbbing and red, yet too sensitive to continue. His abs hurt, his arm was slowly relaxing from the cramping that occurred. Licking his lips, he brings his hand closer to his mouth, tempted to taste the opaque liquid that coats him. 

Feeling your eyes on him, he looks over, you’re waiting on the other side of the lattice. With shaking hands, he raises his tired arm, slides his finger through the lattice, and feels your tongue wrap around the digit slowly. Heart in his ears, he makes circles on your tongue, feeling the muscle move and chase after the cum, a smile slowly stretching across his face. 

Your hand appears, your own shining fingers pushing through the gaps in the lattice, and Jayce wills his lethargic body to move to wrap his own lips around your fingers. His cock twitches at the taste of your own cum, his tongue licking away the sweet-tart taste. Your face was so close, he could feel the breath from your nose against his cheek, your body heat seeping through in the slightest. When he pulls away for air, he opens his mouth to speak. 

A voice beats him to it, though, older and questioning.

“Father?” 

Ice cold fear, and he tilts his head to stare at the door ahead.

[yearningandstillnotlearning]

A r t .

- B.E.

Blurb :p | no use of any names for the characters, just “she” and “you”

a/n: first fanfic posted ever im so nervous | this was my yearning from some months ago i decided to make it into something more | please comment on your opinion on this im nervy

Not fluffy nor sexual but a secret third thing (sensual)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Have you got colour in your cheeks?

Leftover snack packets and crumbs of cookies and sugar littering the couch of the living room, clock read 12:38AM, its past midnight, yet for two girls with a sleep schedule as theirs, the night is still young, too young.

Family and friends long gone, others went home others went on dates, and another stayed behind to cherish this very moment.

Are there some aces up your sleeve?

Have you no idea that you’re in deep?

Laughs had hit the walls hours ago when they were once gathered up to 7, and even now at 2 laughs are still bouncing back and forth. Sneaky giggles and stupid jokes, unexplainable videos that just seem so funny when its late and for once youre not alone.

Energy drinks on the floor next to the bed and an annoyingly bright light hitting at the side to make up for the lack of sun, yet thats the last thing to bother you right now. Theres nothing that could actually bother you right now, not when you finally have her in front of you.

Ive dreamt about you nearly every night this week

Sketchbook in your lap, pencil in your hand and coloured pencils scattered along your side on the bed, criss crossed bodies mirroring each other face to face.

Even if your face wasn’t able to stay in one place. Even if your face couldn’t handle the urge to heat and melt your makeup off in the process, even if you couldn’t handle looking at her, as much as you couldn’t handle her looking at you.

How many secrets can you keep?

Your heart thumping in your chest the same way it does when you’re at a club next to the speaker, body shook with the beat of the speakers and the bass, and you couldn’t tell if its from the amount of energy drinks you’ve consumed this evening or her presence.

But this is better, oh this is way better, theres no eardrum-breaking noise, or people squished up together, stomach-stirring drinks, uncomfortable heels. None of that.

This is simply adrenaline in itself, it was the excitement pumping in your veins.

Cause theres this tune i found that makes me think of you somehow and i play it on repeat..

Emotions thumping at your heart and in your veins causing your blood to rush to your face, cheeks burning red, but the colour showed at your ears, palms so sweaty you hold your sketchbook carefully to not wet and bend the paper. Neck and collarbone stained with red rash spots, just how into her are you?

Shes not stupid now, you tell that to yourself to sleep better at night. She has noticed everything, a simple blood rush is nothing. The way you look at her when everyone is talking laughing and you’re quiet? When your choice of “recharging” your social battery is looking at and through her? When you’re alone and suddenly your voice drops to just above a whisper, sweeter than any sugarcoated candy? When you doodle her and her only out of so many people, there are 5 other people with you two, yet who do you draw the most? You spend all your effort and time on her, enjoyably so.

Until i fall asleep,

A hand picking up your own has a wave of goosebumps sent across your body, a wave of heat while doing so. An amused laugh breaks your gaze, from the mixed hands, up to her own stare.

Shes staring at you, and you’re wishing she would stare nowhere near you. The fear in your brain banging like a migraine, wordlessly telling you she sees it all, and the very same fear in your body, giving her all the confirmation she needs. Her eyes softening as her one-sided laughter dies down, and you’ve yet to actually see her. So far you have been too caught up in your own thoughts to see in front of you until now.

A hand holding your burning one to her also heated cheek, and a twinkle in her eye right between that blown out pupil and icy blue cloud that dances like the stars do on the dark night sky right outside the window.

“I knew you felt it too, Im not crazy to like you”

spillin’ drinks on my settee.

[bigbucksbailey]

Fanfic: Benny Bread Stick x reader (y/n)

CW: weird, butchered Italian, semi-naked men, potty language, I’ve written worse.

Summary: After a recent breakup you head to Olive Garden to drown your sorrows in some authentic Italian cuisine; only to find that the food WAS in fact made with love.

Chapter 1: Bready, Set, GO!

“Table for one please,” I say sadly to the hostess at the front of the Olive Garden. Today has been the worst. Day. EVER!!

First, I got broken up with by my boyfriend because of some stupid misunderstanding. Second, I get FIRED from my job because I said that the third Alvin and the chipmunks is better than the second.

And THIRD, I’m now eating at probably the worst food establishment in the area, a crummy Olive Garden in the back lot of a Lowe’s store.

The hostess looks me up and down before grabbing a menu, her eyes sharp as they silently judge me. “Follow me…” she says hesitantly, like I’m disgusting for even stepping foot in this restaurant. She’s kind of right, though. Right now I'm dressed in a white blouse and coffee stained khakis– far too overdressed for Olive Garden.

I follow the hostess to a back booth, my head on a swivel as I try to find at least one other diner in the restaurant.

“It’s pretty slow today,” the hostess says like she somehow read my mind, setting my menu down on the table, “You’re also the only one here because it’s 11 at night.”

I look up at the italian clock on the wall (???), was it really that late? I’m now 2x as embarrassed to be here.

“Sorry,” I mumble, taking a seat at the booth, “Can I just have some wine? The purple one…….. (idk alcohol)”

“Ya,” the hostess says, “your waiter will be right back with that.” and then she kinda walked away.

That was fine though, I was now alone with my thoughts, my menu, and– a kids menu??? The hostess snuck a KIDS menu into my own?!?

I would have been OUTRAGED if it weren't for the fact I was too tired to argue, instead I hesitantly opened the paper menu, my eyes scanning the white, uncolored pages and the cute pictures littering the booklet. Actually, this was kinda awesome.

“Heres your goober berry sundae,” the waiter said as he set a glass of white and purple wine on the table, placing the bottle next to it, “Do you know what you want 2 order?”

“Ya,” I say, before realizing no I dont “I mean nah”

“Ok”

And Im left alone again. Boy golly this is boring, until an incredibly HOT, SWEATY, MUSCULAR, HALF NAKED (??? does this happen at olive garden) WAITRE strides his sexy hips past me, swinging his fine ass around. I QUICKLY crawl ontop of the table, situating myself to look absolutely irresistible.

“Yoohoo~” I call cutely, waving at the waiter.

The waiter turns around with a bewildered expression, shielding his naked nips from me.

“Sorry, Im kind of indecent rn.”

“Thats cool…” I say back

He flushes like a strawberry and giggles, “I’ll be back!!” before running away on his tippy toes. That was probably the worst thing I've ever seen.

“I gotta get out of here!!” I say quietly, looking around frantically before spotting the SALAD BAR. Of COURSE! I can hide in there!

I book it to the salad bar and do a perfect back spring hand um I jump back there and duck down behind the breadstick bowl–oh hey! Breadsticks!

I wiggle my fingers above the last breadstick like a little menace, “dont mind if I do,” I say with an evil chuckle, that is, until the half naked WAITER COMES BACK!!

I duck down, peaking over the salad bar as the waiter goes to my booth with a handful of dried spaghetti with meatball flowers, its kind of poetic and beautiful, but I cant let myself be whisked away by the shirtless Olive Garden employee. I havent hit rock bottom just yet.

I hear him let out a loud cry before falling to his knees in agony, the other employees rushing over to comfort the half naked man. I gulp, oh gee they were going to try and find me now!

“I was by the door! Theres no way that customer escaped!” the hoestles yells. son of a bitch.

“Lets split up and look for clues” some blonde kif with brown roots and vans on says, oh god im toast!

I remain behind the salad bar, among the discarded lettuce and tomatoes on the floor. Its going to be a long night. My stomach gurgles hungerly and I think back to the juicy, moist, buttery breadstick sitting on top of the salad bar.

God it’ll be worth it to get that thing in my mouth.

I lift my hand and fumble around looking for the breadstick, before my hand touches the wet bread and I kind of moan (but quietly).

“Come to (unspecified parent)” I giggle, lowering the breadstick to my mouth and placing it between my teeth before an “aiiiiiEEEEE!” erupts from the BREADSTICK?!?

“What the?!?” I whisper yell, pulling the breadstick away from my mouth to reveal a beautiful, slender, italian breadstick. His eyes a dark, brown, glowing prettiliy in the salad bar light, and his mustache curled just perfectly at the ends.

It was the most beautiful breadstick ive ever seen.

“S-s-s” I try to say sorry, but the words wouldnt come out, it was hard to think seeing the buttered breadstick covered in a string of my saliva.

“Whatsa the problem?!” He says, wriggling in my hands, “Distrubina my beauty sleep!”

“I’m..” I gulp, was it normal to be so hung up on a breadstick? “I’m sorry, sir…”

The breaststick grins, finally removing itself from my grip and landing on the floor, he hoists himself up and hops around like larry the cucumber from veggietales.

“Mio Tesoro, whata reason do you have behind the salad bar at this hour?” he freezes, eyeing me suspiciously, “Are you a thief?!”

“No! No no…not a thief…”

The breadsticks eyebrows furrow in worry, he hops closer to me, leaving a trail of bread behind him, “It takes an awful mood to be behind here then. Mio pomodoro, tella Bene whats wrong..”

I slump down, my eyes welling up with tears. “I lost my job, and my boyfriend, and now im behind a salad bar at fucking olive garden talking to a sexy breadshit.”

Bene Breadstick freezes at this, his face blushing tomato red at my words, “s-sexy? A me?”

I blush too, my eyes raking over bene breadstick once more. He really was gorgeous in this lighting, coated in a layer of butter and salt, perfectly cooked to give him a slender, crunch to him. My eyes pause at his slightly burnt stump, god I wished he was in my mouth right now.

“Y-yes…” I say, flushing more, “You…you are sexy….”

Bene giggles, hopping onto my lap, “Yes? You think so, mio pomodoro?”

He begins to do a weird shimmy on my lap, I think hes trying to be sexier, but its honestly disturbing. I pick bene up gently, raising him to my face.

“I think youre a lot of things, Bene. Youre beautiful, smart, awesome, and…and I think I’ve fallen for you…” I cant believe what im saying.

Bene grins impossibly bigger, bringing his breadstick face close to mine, “show me you love me, mio pomodoro.”

I nod furiously and lean in, pressing my lips to his own buttery ones. He tastes like salt and butter, leaving my lips coated in a layer of his natural oils. I pull back from the short kiss, licking my lips and moaning at the taste.

Bene smirks, his mustache twitching, “Do you like the taste, Mio Tesoro? You tasted just as-a well.”

I nod helplessly, longing for the touch of another after the brutal breakup with my boyfriend.

Like 4 part 2

[am-i-sans]

dnd adventure 12

time for everyone to save dans! hopefully.

astral and cam come out of eeby deeby seeing dans fuckin dead and inferno on the ground lol

wished to ekedalen! i wrote like so much of this session i was zooming lol

world building coming in handy! healers wander the town!

Dans Backstory 1

all the shit i wrote dear god nothing is organized

taking dans to the hospital hoping for help.

undyne had to stop them from picking the death card lol

leaving dans at the hospital to search for info

cam and suzy heading to the market for gossip!

inferno, frog, and tori head to Grillbys!

undyne looking for mystical shit.

suzy hears gossip about murdered warlocks, slavers, ect.

shades hanging out at the bar~

shades joins the party! temporary pog

astral goes eeby deeby F

shades pogs out at undyne cause a paladin saved her as a kid from slavers.

old man whispers (crazy old ralsei) poggers

they get to the creepy house but none of them can read the statues plaque lol

have to restrain inferno from attacking frog.

undyne and inferno in 1 group 2nd floor

cam suzy and shades in 2 group 3rd floor

tori and frog in 3 group 1st floor

undyne found the library! inferno found my wedding ring :( give it back. undyne took the ring back :3

cam fell oh noes! their ok tho! i caught them this time tho! found the armory. nothing useful. full of skeletons. broken rifle.

tori and frog found the kitchen! gross, old, firebombed.

back to group 1! found the trophy room and the dragon head! undyne wasnt super interested though, shes in serious mode. she took the sword out poggers. inferno took the head lol

group 2! investigation check i got a nat 25 and suzy got a fuckin 0 how. we found the bathroom! bloodstained floor! bird in the sink! damp and broken tub. no working water. floor 3 is done.

group 3! they find the butlers quarters! struggle signs, bloodstains. servants quarters are a mess too. They also find the indoor garden! everythings dead and burnt. they get attacked! a vine blight? tori crit it and it left lol. 1st floor done!

everyone heads to 4th floor! inferno fell back to the 1st floor lol

we find a childs bedroom! with torture devices in it. cam and tori are having fun. we find a jar of screams! open it up, screams. suzy smashes it against the wall and releases the screams. its a kids. good job suzy. inferno could hear it from downstairs lol. cam trying to discover who's room this is hmmm.

moving on from that horror! we find a ballroom! pog! all the stained glass is broken. theres a bear! sees us and goes back to sleep. burned up music sheets. a homonuculus just hanging around. cam picks them up cause why not. broken instruments. working piano. a working record player. (everything stays) voiced by a strange woman? and an egg. just an egg. undyne crushes it lol. i take the record from the record player.

GHOST IN THE HALLWAY! disappears quickly.

Inferno finds a secret door?! OOOOOO

A religion Center. Prayer room? Idols for The Angel, The Void, and Moss. Desecrated and ransaked room. Prayer book on the floor. Lots of mysterious alchemical vials all around. Dont drink them. Papers and books scattered. Notes and attempted spells, failed resurrections.

Shades says dans and a paladin saved her from slavers years ago.

NEXT ROOM!

A bedroom! Very dusty. Broken armor in the corner. Notes in the room. A paladin letter of recommendation for...Papyrus Dosser?! OOOOO guess he never made it.

NEXT ROOM WHOOOOO

another kids bedroom. normal and dusty. kids letters on the floor! cam reads them poggers. sadge!

NEXT ROOM!

Smashed up bedroom. Fox lives in a hole in the wall. Large family portrait. Dans, Papyrus, and a child holding a ferret. A Lockbox. More letters sloppily written. Letters from an adult. Preserved Echo Flowers. Bundle of torn newspaper clippings. An orb of memories.

Undyne ripped open the lockbox wtf. Shackles covered in old blood. Never forget written on a note. Undyne puts it away lol.

Orb of memories. Shows dans murdering his parents. He stabs them to death. He burns it all down. Cam reads dans suicide note! yay! Frisk, Papyrus, Tamara. Family. they also read the kids letters again. vani the pet ferret. awwww. Undyne reads the other letter. Paladin Kris. The echo flower just says "I love you daddy" cam is crying just like i said!

back downstairs!

(in the past) inferno trying to break into the secret door. he did it. 2 more doors pog. he found my treasure crypt the bastard. and an aboleth enemy! we rush in! yep we killed it!

cam went eeby deeby

shades showed undyne and tori a list of failed suicides. God. Said. No.

the other door! its full of skeletons! a crypt! and a bone devil! shades almost died omg. frog killed it im so proud.

we all got the prizes i rolled! (rocks)

inferno and suzy try to shove the doll into dans' mouth. undyne went no. but that might actually be the plan.

dans begins to wake. he sees the doll. blue screen. hes absolutely having a mental breakdown.

inferno went back to the wizard tower but noped out of there. and burned dans mail. he went to hide at his old hut home.

AND FAKE BATTLE AGAIN

undyne kills us of course. god dammit we need a full party.

[cyan-lun]

Sometimes i get this weird feeling. Its an unusual feeling thou its become quite regular. Its a feeling where your hands feel wrong, your boddy feels wrong, i feels fuzzy, you vision is unfocused, no matter how hard you try it stays the same, fuzzy, foreign. An unusual pulse rings in your ears, a beating heart, you thunk its yours, but your not sure, and as you sit infront of sheats of paper scribled with words you cant read, numbers you dont recognise, shapes that spin around, you poke at your finger with a pencil, theres no pain. You apply more pressure until you see blood. A single droplet falls, staining the paper in red, another one follows, yet the pain has yet to arrive, you feel numb, the world feels numb, it feels wrong, i feel wrong, aomething isnt right, you poke anothe hole into your palm, more blood flows out, but still no pain, just a pulsing numbness, and as the red on the page keeps growing a sound starts ringing in your ears, it gets louder and louder until it is all you can hear, tge world around you gets darker and darker and then there is sillence.

I forget my name sometime, i forget my age, and when i look in the mirror i dont recognise the person who stares back at me.

Its confusing, it comes and it goes as it wishes, i dont know when it starts, normally i fall asleep before it ends. Its an endles circle of unsureness, im scared of it, but also crave it, as numbing and confusing as it is, it also feels freeng, like seeing the wprld from a diferent perspective, with a diferent mind almost. I dont know how to escape it, i dont think that matters anymore.

[oaksbugcollection]

watch as a young girl grows older. blond hair that crinkles at the ends, wisps that curl loose and free from a pulled back elastic. a twisted grin that splits her face wide open, a red mouth as a watermelon severed in two. the crisp rasp of a wrapped library book lives aloft in the cradle of her elbow, a slip of shrived notebook paper splitting the pages down the middle. she stands off center, knees bent, fingers wiggling and legs shivering at the weight of her own heart. slick jeans that sit above her waist, tight and sticking to the soft skin of her stomach. and a buttoned shirt where the cotton tangles up under her arms.

she'll swing from monkey bars, and gloat when she hooks two feet in and dangles head down. her smile widens, a flipped crescent moon.

wood chips leave splinters in her palms, and teasing leaves slivers under her ribs. she'll be shoved in the halls. she'll be laughed at in math lessons. boys will toss wads of small paper at the net of hair that wont stay tame.

"can we be friends?"

"we already are."

and friendship will blossom in the classroom, two kids left to work on old assignments. she'll move after this year, but the girl had learned that friendship would not need be asked for. it would always just be.

everyones lunch is stellar, yet cold, dry turkey between crystal white bread, crunchy carrots stale with air, and hardened granola bars will greet her in that uncomfortably moist, square lunch box. if she could only have the spectacular lunch-ables.

she sits with her back to a young boy in her class, facing the wall. he has a mouth like a cobra, wicked teeth peaking past ruby red, chapped lips. his hands shuffle around. he eats a glistening donut, washing it down with gulps of sugar filled coke. she has no friends. she snaps those pale, puckered orange carrots alone.

"are you scared of me?"

"no."

"why do you sit with your back to us?"

from that day forward she faced the table properly, and learned that she need not outcast herself. that might be a task for others to curse towards her, instead.

its fifth grade.

"ill give you my chips."

"if you do, you can hang out with us at recess."

never once did she eat chips that year. she learned that friendship could be born from sacrifice. she learned that beautiful girls were easily admired. it was okay to be the odd one among them, with thighs like thick tree branches, hair like the withering fall leaves, a voice that crackled from nerves, hands that always ached from writing, eyes that squinted from endless nights reading with a flashlight.

how quickly friends can turn upon you. suddenly it was echoing staircases, a slow push and a swift stumble, toppling down the last four steps. blood trickles from skin pulled off. giggles bounce off the walls.

the boys wont talk to you. the rumors start. theres no use chit chatting with the gay girl.

fifth grade ends.

and in this juvenile blink of life, there manages to still be light. grass stains and after school apple slices. bus rides home where kids would gush over friday folders. cold winter days where kids would trickle in with wet soaked snow pants. legos scattered to the floor. food that was scarfed down with no second thoughts.

a childhood like amber around a moth. dangerous but beautiful, liquid fire turned ice.

[watery-melon-baller]

3, 7, and 40 for weekend and belos'

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

ooooh theres so many i would never touch. the first one that comes to mind is accidental pregnancy which like. i dont even write romance much. also hate student/teacher. uhh nonromance id go with. uh. i cannot think of anything rn lmao

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

ooooh id have to go with a snippet from a shera fic i did a while back. torn between two but ill go with the shorter one just because. not sure what counts as a snippet oops.

"Adora rolls her eyes, but stands up to join them. As she runs over, she knows that she’ll trip over her dress several times, and their clothes will all be covered in grass stains that will take forever to wash out. But Adora is here, in a future where there is no war to fight, where they can laugh freely and love and she doesn't feel selfish anymore for wanting a happy ending."

bad at explaining myself but like. its the potential of a happy ending, of not everything being perfect but it good, and thats worth living for. its a whole metaphor about feminity and wartime and accepting yourself. that its okay to be safe now, its okay to be soft and vulnerable and to start healing. apologies for being incoherent

40. Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

ohohohohhohho you know whats funny. i actually did have an alternate ending planned where hunter just. slept through the rebelllion and just woke up after it was over and was like "what the fuck." anyways i sat down and wrote this in a night (ive been saving the ask until it was finished so thats why im answering it late sorry!) so enjoy 2k words of that under the cut. apologies for typos i tried my best to read this over lmao. you can also read this on ao3 now yipee

Hunter stared at his clock, and scowled. Shit. He had 20 minutes until the coven head meeting!

He stood up, quickly scrambling for his notes.  He wanted to try and get there early, so he could figure out somewhat of a plan.

Flapjack lifted their head up, disrupted from their slumber. What is boy doing?

His foot slipped on a piece of paper, and he barely managed to catch himself on the edge of his desk. “I have a meeting! I need to go talk to the other coven heads, and-”

Have time! Should rest!

He scowled. “Flapjack, I don’t have time to rest! I need to prepare my notes! I still haven’t figure out what I’m going to say to Terra, or Adrian, or how to deal with the recent riots-”

Nap time! Boy too tired to think!

“You always say it’s nap time.”

Because boy is always tired!

He sighed, flopping back on his bed and letting the stack of papers in his arms scatter onto the floor. Flapjack did have a bit of a point. He had been staying up later and later, getting less sleep in favor of trying to take care of… well, everything.

He could get ready in ten minutes. It wouldn’t take long to teleport. Just closing his eyes for a few minutes surely wouldn’t hurt. And he wouldn’t actually fall asleep. He would just lay here!

“Just ten minutes. Then I have to go.”

Flapjack chirped. Nap! Nap!

“Not a nap, Flap,” He mumbled. “M just resting my eyes.”

He didn’t even realize he was falling asleep.

___

He woke up to the smell of smoke.

He shot up out of bed, head swiveling as he took stock of the room. Everything seemed to be in order, except-

“FLAPJACK!”

The bird had at some point moved inside his shirt. They peeked their head out, looking adorable as always, but Hunter wasn’t fooled.

He glared at them. “I said ten minutes.”

Boy needed nap!

He pointed at the window. “IT’S DARK OUTSIDE NOW! IT’S NIGHTTIME!”

Not that late. Sun just set. More like evening!

He dragged a hand down his face and groaned. “Flapjack. I missed the coven head meeting. The one thing I cannot, under any circumstances, miss.”

Flapjack did not look even remotely apologetic.

Hunter sighed, standing up and brushing back his hair. The smell of smoke was still lingering in the air, and he poked his head out the window, following the smell.

Ah. That might be a problem.

The area of the castle where Terra and Adrian had been fighting the other day looked even worse than before, mainly because it was on fire. Several scouts were running around in a panic, and if he listened closely, he could hear the faint sound of screaming.

Flapjack had moved to sit on his desk, and he slowly turned to glare at them. “Flapjack.”

They chirped.

“This is why we don’t skip coven head meetings! Look at what happened while I was asleep. The castle is on fire!” He sighed. 

Could be worse!

He flung his arms out, staring the bird down in frustration. “How could this be worse?!”

The Titan must have thought that was funny, because at that moment his door was slammed open with a war cry.

“GOLDEN GUARD!”

Something (someone?) charged through his door, and he screeched, barely avoiding their tackle. Whoever it was slammed into his wall, sending feathers flying everywhere. Why there were feathers, he didn’t know. Maybe they were because of the large wings that were almost smacking him in the face. 

Flapjack screeched, dive bombing the intruder, and Hunter quickly scrambled back, grabbing a heavy textbook detailing the criminal justice system and hurling it at their face. They shouted in pain, falling back onto the floor, and Hunter decided that was his cue to go.

He skidded out into the hallway, his slippers barely staying on his feet, while Flapjack circled nervously around his head. Behind him, he could hear the sound of the mystery attacker getting up, and he risked a glimpse behind him as Flapjack transformed into a staff.

“Golden Guard, kid, wait a second-”

Their voice sounded somewhat familiar, but he was too busy grabbing his staff. The last thing he saw before teleporting away into a haze of golden light was what looked to be some kind of harpy woman, heading straight for him.

He bounced across the castle, not having much of a destination in mind besides something that was away from the harpy lady. He materialized in a small room with dim lighting, and as he leaned against the brick walls he realized he was in the break room.

There were technically several break rooms scattered around the castle, but those were all empty storage closets scouts had converted into a break room in their free time with their own money. (Hunter may or may not have contributed to them with money from the castle treasury). This, however, was the official break room, the one all the coven heads used, and the one that the Emperor made somewhat of an attempt to maintain.

He hadn’t been here in a couple weeks, with the whole “accidentally killed my Uncle and now running the government from my bedroom” issue. Not much had changed since the last time he was here. The table was still stained, one of the chairs still had a wobbly leg, the sink was still dripping water because no one knew how to fix the leak, there were still a few spare coven cloaks lying in a pile on the floor, and the fridge still had several post-its about labeling your food properly and not letting it sit in the fridge for months and stink up the room.

The bulletin board, however, had a few changes. The ‘days since Kikimora tried to assassinate someone’ board had been reduced back to zero (last time he saw it it was at 11, which was a new record), and there were several notes stating that due to being understaffed, everyone would be getting extra shifts. Which was weird, because Hunter thought he was in charge of scheduling guard shifts, but he had handed off so many of his duties to Kikimora and random coven captains that he wasn’t sure anymore. Also, why had no one told him they were understaffed?

Someone had also brought in cookies, and there were still a few left. Yay! He grabbed one from the box, biting into it. 

“Want a piece? Its chocolate cricket flavor.” He broke off a small chunk, offering it to the palisman, who began gleefully pecking it. He finished eating the rest of the cookie, wandering over to the sink.

He smacked the faucet, hoping that maybe this time it would stop the leaking, but it did nothing. Like it did every time. He sighed, and turned towards the clawfee machine, turning it on. Next to the sink was a small collection of drying dishes, one of which included a mug that said ‘world’s best nephew’ in hot pink script.

“Hey Flapjack, I found my favorite mug!” He picked it up, thankfully finding it clean. He had been searching for that mug for weeks! Although, it seemed a bit inaccurate, with the whole ‘killed my uncle’ and ‘being a grimwalker of his brother’ thing. Nope, that was a problem for another time.

He shrugged, watching as the clawfee pot came to a boil. Flapjack was hopping around the table, pecking the various crumbs that had been left behind. Hunter should probably be stopping them, but he figured if Flapjack had survived this long with such little self preservation, they would probably be fine.

Probably.

He poured the clawfee into his mug, and moved to sit down in a chair. The good chair, not the one with the wobbly leg that made you rock back and forth every time you moved the slightest inch. 

He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and stared vacantly at the wall. “So,” he said calmly. “I think there might be a rebellion going on right now.”

Flapjack chirped anxiously. Hunter stared at the bird. “You know, this is why we don’t skip coven head meetings.”

He sipped on his clawfee, savoring the bitter taste. Oh, sweet caffeine, how he missed it. Having energy was fantastic.

“I should probably go out there and deal with that.”

Or don’t! Don’t risk yourself!

“Flapjack, I don’t think that's an option.”

Run away to woods! Can hunt for worms!

“I can’t eat worms! You can hunt all you want, I’ll forage for berries.”

Good plan!

Hunter groaned. “Terrible plan.” It wasn't like he had any ideas. He had been slowly preparing a runaway bag, but he had hoped he would have a few more weeks before he had to use it. This was his punishment for procrastinating. 

He stood up, taking a long swig of the coffee. “Okay, my stuff is in my room. Let’s see if we can try to sneak back there, and if anyone is still alive.” He looked down at himself, grimacing at his lack of armor. He was still in his PJS! 

Hesitantly, he lifted one of the coven scout cloaks from the pile on the floor, checking it over. There didn’t appear to be any visible stains, so he shrugged, putting it on.

Flapjack chirped, and fluttered on top of his head. Hunter sighed, but said nothing, pulling up his hood to cover the bird. He opened the door and hesitantly peeked his head out. There didn’t seem to be anyone, so he stepped out into the hallway, letting the door shut behind him.

Picking a random direction, he began walking, the only sound being his bunny slippers slapping against the tile. He nervously clutched his cloak, suddenly beginning to regret every decision he had ever made that had led him to this situation.

He rounded a corner to see a hallway that looked very much destroyed. A section of the ceiling had collapsed, and plants and abomination goo was everywhere. Several coven scouts were lying unconscious on the floor.

Hunter bit his lip, and with a start realized he was still holding his mug. There was still a little bit of clawfee in it, so he could throw it at someone and run if he needed to. The perfect weapon. What a plan.

He froze at the sound of footsteps, frantically looking for a place to hide. He slid behind a pile of rubble, hoping that he would just be mistaken for an unconscious scout.

The sound of footsteps grew closer, and then stopped. “I could have sworn I heard something over here,” a familiar voice muttered. Oh shit.

Hunter involuntarily flinched, shifting the rubble he was hiding behind with his movement.

“Over there!” Oh, he recognized that voice too, although it was only marginally better than the first one. Maybe if he stayed very very still, they wouldn’t notice him?

He yelped as abomination goo wrapped around his legs, dragging him out into the open and pinning his arms to his side. He scowled at the awkward angle his arm was held at, the clawfee slowly dripping out of his mug and onto the floor.

Darius crossed his arms, lifting an eyebrow at Hunter. “Ah, Little prince. You’re looking… unwell.”

Hunter, very maturely, stuck out his tongue, something that only caused Darius’s scowl to deepen.

Behind Darius, Luz cheerfully waved at him. “Hi Hunter! You kind of caught us at a bad time.” She turned down the hallway, cupping a hand to her mouth. “HEY GUYS, WE FOUND HUNTER! OVER HERE!” 

Darius winced at her yelling, rubbing his ears. Hunter wished he could do the same, because wow Luz could shout loud.

The two of them turned back to face him and he grimaced. “Uh, hi?” He said awkwardly. Maybe they would be nice and just kill him right away. Luz could probably convince them not to hurt Flapjack.

Luz shoved her hands in her pockets, grinning casually. “Hunter, my man! I’ve been looking for you! Sorry about the whole, uh, overthrowing the government thing.”

‘It’s fine,” He said, even though it was very much not fine. “It was already falling apart anyways.”

Darius stepped towards him, frowning. “About that, actually. We have quite a few questions to ask you, Golden Guard.”

Luz’s grin became just a bit more shaky. “Not bad questions! Just, uh, questions. It’ll be great!” She did not sound convinced of her own words. “It’s fine.”

Hunter sighed. He should have just stayed in bed. This was all Flapjack’s fault. He was never trusting that adorable little bird again, no matter how cute they were.

[little-fairy-forest]

hey i saw your asks were open? ignore if they aren’t or if you’re not comfortable with this but....

how would Aged Up!Bakugou react to their s/o having to take care of their really young nephew or niece and bakugou comes home to them being motherly and taking care of the little kid😳😳

if you aren’t comfortable with this you can ignore this request but i’m excited to see what you think!

Wow what a username-

🍀 Hello! Yes my asks are always open ♡

I was thinking as well how would Bakugou react to smaller children, I mean he seems okay with them from the anime but I have a feeling his short fuse might make it hard

Bakugou reacting to his s/o being motherly

F/n = first name, extreme fluff, domestic

Bakugou hasn't come across many children by choice, may it be at a family gathering or his own colleagues bringing in their newborns to show to the office

He doesn't mind when children come up to him and ask for an autograph, that's easy. Smile. Hug. Autograph. Done

But when you mentioned you chose willingly to mind a young child, your nephew however. He was sceptical

Bakugou parked his car outside your shared apartment. He picked up some small bits for dinner that evening aswell as some Mochi ice cream to enjoy later. As he opened the door he could hear silence. Weren't you meant to be minding some shit stain?

"Babe? I'm home" Katsuki kicked off his shoes and exchanged them for slippers, dynamight slippers, and made his way into the small kitchen. As he placed his keys down and the small bag full of ingredients he noticed small toys littered the sitting room and couch.

Specifically a Red Riot Lego set half built, a Deku action figure and Creati play dough.

"Who the fuck brings so much crap to someone's house, I swear the ever loving fuck if that play dough got on the rug-" "Katsuki were in here!" As katuski's rant is paused for the time being, he makes his way into the guest room, he see's you and your nephew on the bed as you brush through his wet hair. "Hi..uh what's your name again?" "Katsuki!" "What I can't remember all your families names theres too many" katsuki says in defence. "Its f/n" your nephew says as he whines at you tugging on his hair "hey hey I'm almost done, after that can you go get comfy into your new pyjamas for me?" You say as you finish drying his hair.

"Katsuki can go grab f/n pyjamas from the bathroom I left them in there" you say as you put the dirty towel into the laundry bin "sure"" katsuki says as he makes his way into the bathroom, he sees the last of the bubbles from the clearly fun bath time left over. He grabs the dinosaur themed pyjamas as he steps on a floppy bath toy "ah what the fu-" "katsuki" y/n says with a tone that katsuki now knows he is to behave "what?! Theres shit everywhere-" "don't curse confront on f/n he will copy you!" y/n says as she takes the pyjamas and sets them out for f/n.

###

Katsuki is finishing up on cooking dinner, as he looks over at you and your nephew cuddled up on the couch as you read him a story from the bookshelf. As Katsuki watches how you speak in a calm tone as you brush your fingers through f/n's hair. He realises how your demeanor changed from not only 20 minutes prior in the bathroom. How did you go from threatening girlfriend to now soothing mother-

Mother

It hit him. Your acting like a motherly figure to the little boy. A small cry takes Katsuki out of his train of thought as he looks at your nephew about to cry as he shows you his paper cut on his finger "oh no! Let me go get a plaster, I'll he right back" you say as you go grab a 'magic plaster' .

"Would you like a glow in the dark Chargebolt one or a scratch n sniff Dynamight one?" "Dynamight!" "Hold on since when did I have scratch n sniff plasters?! and what the fuc- Fudge! Fudge does it smell like?!" Katsuki managed to save himself from cursing, but seriously who makes scratch n sniff plasters?

"It smells like caramel" f/n says as he watches y/n place the plaster on his finger. Y/n kisses it better . "Is it okay now?" "Yeah" f/n says as he makes his way over to the table waiting for dinner. "He's so cute" y/n says as she plates up the dinner "yeah yeah he's no brat for sure" katsuki peers over to see f/n is sitting quietly as he scratches his plaster and then sniffs it after "jesus might need to check with my merch management to see if we have anymore weird shit-" katsuki mumbles as he sits down to eat

###

Time passes as you all start to get ready for bed. You have a quick shower as f/n finishes watching the show on the tv. Katsuki is finishing up emails.

As y/n tucks f/n into the spare bed she starts to read him a story. She whispers so if he is to fall asleep during the book she won't wake him.

Katsuki gets suspicious as he hasn't heard anything in a while coming from the guest room. He makes his way over incase he wakes f/n. Katsuki peeps his head into the room to only see y/n fast asleep with f/n cuddled up to her side as the book long forgotten on the bed. Katsuki has a clouded look in his eyes as many thoughts are running through is mind

'She's so good with kids, no hassle at all'

'She's so gentle and caring, almost doting to the little guy'

'Will she be like that for our kids-'

Katsuki snaps out of his bubble...your kids? Like mini Katsuki's and mini y/n's running around? Would you like that? Because Katsuki is deffiently on board now

He wonders how long till that page of your journey together arrives.

Holy shit that was so fluffy and cutesy~

But for now, he is happy with how the love story between katsuki and y/n is going so far

Honestly love Bakugou being all fluffy <3

Anyway Requests are always open!

Thank you for reading :)

[stitchwork-madness26]

*GENTLY HOLDS SMOL LOVE*

Paring:mag agent torture x scientist!reader

Warning:mentiones of gore and murder with swearing

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

Working under a being made of shadow in nevada isn't so bad once you look past the occasional threats and murder...and lack of breaks....and the occasional breathing down your neck........and the lingering dread of you becoming a experiment if you don't do as your told - ok its terrible.

You kinda forgot how you got into this mess in the 1st place or how it started, as the distant memory of the time before Nevada went to shit was a big blur, almost like it was all just a dream. You tend to keep looking at the bright side even if its really hard to do that in this place, its almost a miracle that your still standing as most kind hearted grunts don't live long in this blood stained world. Maybe its because of your brilliant ideas? That you are to valuable to become a experiment? A ray of sunshine thats still around after the suns disappearance? You'll never know...

But enough of the depressing thoughts, you had a job to do. You stood up from your chair with a grin, a pen and clipboard in hand. Its time to meet someone very special to you.

Walking out of your office and down the hall you stopped at a large metal door shut tightly, on one side of the door displays a warning sign telling anyone who reads it that they must be a certain rank to enter such room while the other is a card reader. Pulling the card thats dangling around your neck you inserted the card in the card reader and the door pulls itself open allowing you to enter inside, with a grin still on your face you walked inside and the door slides shut behind you. You looked up at the mag agent that sits infront of you "hey big guy" you said in a sweet tone, followed by a hum in response. The large nails in his head preventing him to speak to you normally.

Mag agent torture was his full name but you call him tor or big guy for short, he was a special case practically one of the best agents the facility has. However in some certain tests to make him more powerful to defeat the infamous hank j. Wimbleton he gets really aggressive and had caused a massive massacre among the staff a few times because of this (see incident: 011A for details) but for some odd reason he had a soft spot for you. You made him calm, almost peaceful, he would not lash out or hurt you in any sort of way even if he was in pain from experiments. That is one of the many reasons why you and only you had to do the experiments on him, not like you wanted to do that to him but it was your job.

It was either do your work, or be 'fired'. And frankly. NO ONE WANTS TO BE FIRED.

"Head still hurts?" You asked, pressing down the top of your pen and once again getting another hum in response, yet somehow knowing exactly what hes saying with only a simple hum or gesture. "I hear you tor" you sighed, checking out a box on the paper "luckily theres not much to do today...so it'll be done quick" you attempted to reassure him, you know he would never harm you, yet somehow you still had this tingling feeling at the back of your mind that one day he will turn on you, paranoia and over working tends to do that to you though.

You smiled after noticing torture reached over and pat your head as gently as he could, almost like he had sensed your worry. "Im fine tor really" you said with a smile still on your face and set the clipboard and pen down on a nearby desk "lets go ahead and get started kay?" You continued, returning to your normal mood and tone. You didnt mind that you felt his eyes on you, he tends to observe what you and used to be others too on what they are doing. Almost in a curious manner.

It was and still is kinda cute.

You was just about to fill a large needle with a serum of some kind before you was suddenly scooped up by a large hand, you practically dropped the needle "what the fuck!?" You squealed in surprise before being pressed against fabric and hear the sound of a loud rumble resembling a purr. Honestly you kinda blanked for a minute before you realized what was happening.

Torture had picked you up and gently pressed you against his chest in a large hug, he continued to purr as he held you in place with his hands. You smiled warmly, your face growing warm, and tried to hug him back as best you could "love you too tor" you chuckled, enjoying this peaceful moment in the giants embrace as all your previous worries faded away...

[secretsandwriting]

Murder Made Us Do It

Part Twleve: A History of Cults summarized

It starts off with the black ops going over who knew about the details of the plan. Just them, the batfam, and Jacob. They all agreed the only one who wouldn't face any direct problems from the plan going wrong would be Jacob, As they were discussing it, Jacob and a scientist they remember from Devil's Hell broke in with a few men and kidnapped them.

Tim got a text from Alistair but it was just a ping at their house, next Jason got a call from Ry but it was actually Trash sounding distressed. Dick reveals that its part of a 3 person sos so they go to the house where Trash and Appa show them how to get into the safe which is hidden behind a bookshelf. (the classic pull a book and the door opens, the book to open it is called A history of cults)

Behind the bookshelf is an empty safe but Trash acts out that theres another safe under it, when jason pulls the decoy out, Dick puts in the code he had been given where they find three files and a notebook.

Once the entire justice league is there they scan the files so they can all read the page. The first file is Alistair and it all the information the cult collected including the experamentation and his death before he was resurected with a dose of an enhanced lazurus pit injection. They they find the same type of thing in Ry's and Y/n's files. However Y/n's comes to an abrupt halt and theres a blood stain on the paper.

There was nothing in the files that gave them the information they wanted so all that they had left was the notebook.

[novinoviarts]

FAIR WARNING! This is a bit of an au as there is very little lore on the witch's in bot ovenbreak and kingdom, two wiki pages worth. so theres your warning. dont like au's? Don't read further. credit to Blaze-On-Fire for the template

Name: Candy Cane Cookie

Gender: Female

Rarity: Witch Hunter (Rarer than Ancient) (Oh so special!)

Unlock quote: Everyone has power… Let me help you unlock yours

Class: Magic

Position: Front

Skill: TBA

Story: Created long ago by a witch, she was rescued by a group of rogue cookies, eventually becoming a Witch Hunter. After a disastrous mission, she and the remaining hunters found the “Cookie Realm”, a pocket world that they still defend to this day. A wanderer and a teacher at heart, she helps every cookie she meets unlock their true potential. Few can come close to matching her raw power and energy. Her full force can be devastating, but she is the pacifist of the Hunters, choosing peace. But if needed…

Facts: Candy Cane likes her naps

She is old, like really old, legends say she was The Third Batch, taught the secrets on killing witch’s by the First and Second Batches, and passed her knowledge onto the Fourth and Fifth Batch’s

So many don’t believe she is a witch hunter. Considering few have ever encountered a witch in the modern day, beside the St. Pastry Order, some don’t believe they exist

She hates the Crème Republic and the order for those reasons, thinks them idiots who think themselves safe if they do the witch’s bidding

She only became a teacher for one student at the Parfaedia Institute

She loves the rain due to her umbrella

She understands dark enchantress cookie. DOES NOT agree with her starting the war, and is miffed that one of the few non witch hunter cookies that knows the truth is evil

It gets worse when she finds out the truth about her

She has fought in several wars: The Great Hunt, The Reckoning, The Judgment, The Great Divide and The Great Reunion. She did not fight in the Dark Flour War, to busy fixing the barriers DEC was destroying

Cookie Décor: TBA

Associated Bonds: Once a student, always a student Candy Cane/Espresso/Pure Vanilla

Leaning back into her chair, Candy Cane looked over the two letters. They were so different, from the paper, to the handwriting, to the ink. But they both carried the same message.

Please, come visit.

One was written on a rich parchment, the handwriting flowing almost lyrically, although it was more relaxed than she had seen him write to dignitaries back in his kingdom’s heyday, knowing she cared little for political games. The little doodle in the corner of the page had her smiling, a flower that she had once given him on a staff years ago.

It reminded her of assignments, another’s handwriting with it although that filled her with nothing but sorrow.

The second was far more comfortable, in fact she could see stains along the edge from what she knew was coffee. The handwriting was neat, never sloppy in his letters, even after years of teaching his own class. It sent a pang of emotion she wasn’t sure of, a mixture of pride and sadness, of knowing she wasn’t really needed anymore.

It reminded her of assignments, of the little cookie she took under her wing years ago and fiercely defended.

But they had ended up in this new “Cookie Kingdom”, each there for their own reasons but now reaching out for her to come visit. She had of course heard the whispers on the wind of the return of the Dark Enchantress, had already written to Peacock ages ago with information.

Maybe it was time to visit her students, to help out once again. Standing up from the chair, she looked out upon her (friend? partner? lover?) fellow Hunter’s land, watching as the cookies below lived their lives, confident in the Hunters that watched over them, comforted that they would keep them safe. They would not lose that trust and she turned back towards her library. She would leave come morning.

The Hunters Reunite

Tree of Wishes Wish: Take your time, I have it

Soulstone Description

This stone holds a piece of Candy Cane Cookie's soul. It emanates so much energy, you can't hold it for very long...

Quotes:

Come on, its time for a break

This ol’thing? Just my Umbrella, nothing more

Lets make sure the lesson sticks this time, alright?

Bonds are important, make them, and keep them close

Touch:

Do you want to join a lesson?

What I can help with?

I prefer the rain

Time for a new lesson

Come on, lets walk together

Maybe I like a fight or two, so what?

Loading:

Candy Cane Cookie has always been a teacher, even in her fresh baked days with the younger cookies.

“Come on, lets use our power!”

“Of course I’m here, I will always fight for justice”

“There is so much the cookies of this world are protected from”

Level Up:

Alright, lets do this!

Lets take a walk together, hmm?

Thank you for this chance

Bring it on!

You can always learn new tricks!

Promotion: My Power is always growing

Victory: 

It was always assured

I knew we could do it

Oh, its raining!

Defeat: 

I need a nap

Its okay, we’ll do it next time

Aw, its sunny

[hypixelsblade]

[a small folded letter, paper ripped from the notebook and with instructions simply stating "put in his cabin somewhere". theres blue stains on them, and when opened up theres scribbled out words and a wilted, dead poppy. at the very end, is the message.]

dear technoblade.

i wish we could have been friends. i still think about the flowers we picked together. this one migjt be dead by the time this reaches you. sorry. for what its worth, i really did care

signed, @presidentubbo

Technoblade opens a drawer, and places the letter inside gently - wilted, dead poppy & all. It rests upon an envelope never sent, but the text on the back of the folded paper simply reads: Tubbo_.

[There is a letter inside that envelope. Though the recipient will never get to see it, it reads:

Tubbo_,

You were always stronger and more dangerous than the majority of the server gave you credit for. I hope you know that I never wanted to hurt you. Children should not have to fight wars, and I regret pulling that trigger almost every night. I'm sorry. You deserved better from me. I hope that you still love flowers as much as you used to.

Technoblade ]

[thefanbasewhore]

I loved your Javier preference can you do "You're not alone, I'm here." With Javier? 💞💞

Summary: based off the prompt list I reblogged. Javier is there for the new DEA agent after her first shoot out.

This is short, I'm getting ready to go to bed but wanted to fit a little something in. Enjoy! No use of Y/N.

Warning/content: Fluffy Javier, descriptions of shooting and killing. Reader is a young agent but her and Javi kind of have a thing.

Paring: Javier Peña/Female Reader

Colombia is beautiful, absolutely breath taking between the thick green forests, clear beaches and warm weather it's almost a dream. Family from the states would often stare how jealous they are of her, saying that one should be grateful for an opportunity like this.

But it was lonely.

Let's face it, being new anywhere sucks, the agents who have been here for years had their own clique, friends bonded by time and even blood which left her an unknowing outsider. While the other fellow DEA agents were grouping at a bar trying to forget the demons of the day she found herself alone every single night.

There's something about silence that makes chills creep up the devil's neck, the over thinking it entitles and she's has plenty of time personally witnessing how soul crushing it could be. After particularly rough days, seeing things that make her skin burn she would contemplate resigning, going home to face failure but at least have company again.

Two agents in particular are the only two who would bother talking to her. Agent Murphy and Agent Peña, desks only feet away from her own but she even thinks it's out of pure pity, they're nice men but work too much. Always busy, never around when the office dies and she's faced with the predicament of going home or staying longer at the office to avoid the insecure hours of silence that were bound to come.

"Agent." The words make her snap her head up away from the paper work scattered across the desk, peering into the dark swirls of brown, they match the curling hair at the base of his neck. "You ready to go?"

"Where?" The small dimples that pop through the patches of facial hair are enough to make anyone's knees weak, but luckily she's sitting, just admiring the beautiful man in front of her.

While she did believe it was only out of pity, she might have a teeny, tiny crush on him. How could she help it? Javier was hot headed, a fool with emotions, slept with a too many woman but was compassionate, smart, brave, handsome but most of all called her Hermosa.

She has no idea what it means, her spanish is shit but the way the words roll to perfectly from his tongue, the way his dimples peak smirking after they are muttered literally makes it hard to breath. Much like now, eyebrows raised in a teasing matter, a small chuckle falls from his perfect pout as he leans against the desk. "You didn't listen to a word I said did you?"

"I, um.." Hating the way her cheeks heat up she clears her throat, acting as if there's something stuck that causing the change of color in her face. "Was reading the report.."

"We need to head out to check a tip, meet you outside in ten hermosa." Theres thosd words again, she's completely speechless only nods a validation of understanding. She can't help as her eyes run down the back of his silhouette, a pink shirt stretches over his broad shoulders dipping into the curve of his slim waist then to his jeans that curve so perfectly over his -.

Shaking her head from the thoughts she stands, pulling her jacket over shoulders to joint Javier outside.

Javier is the perfect gentleman, opening the door to the car, asking if the air conditioning setting are okay not only once but twice not wanting her to be uncomfortable. Despite only knowing the man for a few months, and crushing embarrassingly hard, she felt more comfortable in this car then she did at her own home.

It's almost impossible to stop looking at him, one hand on the wheel, the other bringing a cigarette to his pout, lips wrapping around to take a large puff. His shirt is buttoned to the middle of his chest, even though it is scarce there are a few dark hairs that poke out from it, down his lean torso to his flattening thighs due to the pressure of the seat under him. He's looks so good, it's not right, he has to be at least ten or more years older but she wants nothing more than to lean against him, touch those lips with her own, run her fingers around the fatness of his bottom lip, feel his tongue poke out to suck on them.

"See something you like?" It's a tease, smirk that not only makes her cheek ignite but chest blush with pink patches. She's been caught, silent as her mouth drops to say something but Javier beats her to it. "I'm kidding, you should have seen your face."

"You're an asshole." The words are said with harsh tone, but with a smile and an eye roll that softens it up. "I was just actually wondering how many of those things you smoke a day, I heard they were bad for you."

The playful tone of earlier is gone, it's replaced by a lingering silence, a mix of anxiety and anticipation makes her stomach flip. The wall his cold against her skin but it helps hide her from the impending danger. Her breath is trembling, chest is expanding so fast she swears she can't breath.

It all happened so fast, Javier and her doing a sweep of the building then yelling, chaos erupting in the form of unforgiving bullets. Javier and her separated but him pushing her away from the danger only to face it head on himself.

One of them chasing and following her. While anyone would believe they would act heroic in the moment, run head first like Javi at the danger she couldn't, she ran up the stairs, hid in one of the bedrooms shooting the passerbys.

But now she realizes how much of a bad idea it was, trapping herself with the man only stands a few feet from her, a sickly smile matches his words as he points the gun at her. "There you are princess."

She's immobilized, pausing as eyes squeeze together expecting searing pain but the loud sound the echos the room has blood painting her face, body falling limp at her feet. Curled up in the most ridiculous position but eyes open wide with shock as Javier stands in front of her, gun still held high despite the dead man pooling blood on her legs, his own chest heaving with adrenaline.

She can't help it, the way the tears swell up, chin quivers no matter how much she tries to hide it. Javi's eyes never leave, only lower his gun, extending his hand for she can take it.

She reaches for it but the body the separates them makes her falter. "Hey -- look up, eyes on me. It's alright."

"I'm sorry. I ran away, I left you all alone." Word are breathlessly whispered with breaks, her lungs didn't want to work crushing her chest with deep sorrow. "I've never done this before."

Hands run over her face, feeling the blood smear across it, pulling her hand away to see the redness to meet the cause again before Javi is speaking again. "Eyes on me, take my hand."

The shift from the house to the car is blurry, between the tears and the blood it was nearly impossible to see anything, all she could think about was how slimy it felt against her pant leg, how the smell was almost metallically.

Javier had started the car, taking a drag of his cigarette and squeezing the bridge of his nose with the same hand. His eyes meet her again, noticing the blank stare directed at blood stained hands, Javi reaches over taking his jacket from the back seat to try and rub the blood away but it makes it worse, staining fingers a dark pink.

"I was the same way." Guessing it was her first time seeing a dead body but truthfully it doesn't get any easier, just starts to fade into normalcy. "Let's get you home hermosa."

"No --." The words are choked, loud as eye meet his with fear. Anything but the lingering silence home entitles, it would be a punishment not a relief. "Please, I don't want to go home. I am alone, I don't want to be alone."

Javi pauses to take in her words, eyebrows expressing confusion at the out burst. The way her chin quivers with uncertainty, tears push past eye lids if it wasn't for the situation he would tell her how beautiful she looks like this but instead slowly extends his hand to cup her cheek, moving closer to feel her warmth, thumb running over the highest point of her cheeks feeling them soak with a mixture of tears and blood. "You're not alone, I'm here sweet girl."

[maxineswritingcenter]

Bray Road - Fox Mulder x non!binary reader - part 8

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

Mulder pulled (Y/N) behind him as Winterfield approached. 

“I was going to bring you that buffoon of a sheriff as your first kill, but...” He grinned, sharp teeth appearing in his smile, “I suppose this works.” Mulder pulled his gun, aiming to towards the mad doctor. 

Suddenly, their stomach lurched. They turned away, puking up what felt like everything they’ve ever eaten. They moaned in pain, holding their stomach. When they inspected the puke, they backed away, seeing that their bile was tinged pink with blood. 

“What did you do to them!” He shouted. 

“Unfortunately, in all of my trials of turning my army, I have come to a conclusion. The DEA will leave their system very quickly and they can get away. However, when I give them the added poison, that...that brings them back to me. The bite cures all.” 

(Y/N) coughed, wet and painful sounding. They fell to their knees, their body jerking with each cough. Mulder went down besides them, seeing the blood splattered from each cough. 

“It’s already too late, Agent Mulder. If you want your partner to survive they must receive the bite. It is their only chance.” Winterfield turned away from them, staring up at the moon, hunching over and beginning to turn.

“Mulder.” They gasped, “You gotta get out of here.” 

“I’m not leaving you here.” He said, keeping an eye on. 

“I’m gonna die.” They gripped onto his shirt sleeve, blood staining where their fingers touched, “I can’t be the reason you die too. Please.” Mulder squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Alright, Winterfield. You got your wish.” He opened his eyes, holstering his gun and pulling (Y/N) to their feet, “Save them.” Mulder and (Y/N) stared at the beast. He was down on all fours and looked exactly like the descriptions. The size of a bear, but the body of a wolf. His eyes blazing red. 

“I knew you would see things my way.” The beast growled. 

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) started to panic. They tried to move away from Mulder but he had grabbed them by their arm and held it out. He wrapped his arm around their middle. 

“Mulder no!” They cried, “MULDER!” They watched as Winterfield’s awaiting jaws came closer. (Y/N) pulled at his fingers, scratching even. 

“FOX!” (Y/N) screamed, “No! No no-” They were cut off by a watery huk of blood. Standing before the beast, Mulder grabbed their free hand that was attempting to loosen his grip and pulled it to his side, hitting the cool plastic of his gun holster. The beast’s mouth opened wide, ready to claim their arm in his mouth. 

(Y/N) voice trembled, “This...is for them.” They brought Mulder’s gun up and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through Winterfield’s open mouth and opened the back of his head. Blood splattered over the walls of the cave and on the agents, the beast fell. Before their eyes, they watched the beast slowly shift back into a man.

It was finally over. The man who had haunted their life, looming over their shoulders was gone. 

“It’s finally over.” They let out a long needed sigh of relief. Their knees gave out, bringing them down to the ground, their vision growing dark. 

“Mulder...I’m going home.” They hummed. He kneeled in front of them, holding them up by their cheeks.

“No, no you’re not. We still have to get your statement, we have to prove that he was the beast. We have the evidence to expose the truth.” He tapped their face, “Come on, open those eyes. Please, this can’t be the last time I see them.” Mulder begged. The last things they heard was the echo of Mulder’s voice calling their name as they slipped away. 

- 

Assistant director Skinner looked up at the agents from the report that he had been handed in.

"So your official statement is that Dr. Lyle Winterfield was comiting these killings under psychosis that he was a werewolf. Clinical lycanthropy."

Mulder nodded, "Yes, sir."

“And you shot him in self-defense.” Mulder nodded. AD Skinner turned to the other agent. 

“How are you feeling, Agent (Y/L/N).” 

(Y/N) took a deep breath, grateful they were able to breathe at all, “I’m well, sir. Thank you.”

“But you know that lying is a punishable offense. You were involved in this XFile, putting yourself and Agent Mulder in danger. This isn’t something I can ignore.” And there it was, the beginning of the end. 

“I know, sir. And I apologize to you and Agent Mulder for that. I just... I had to find the truth.” They said sincerely. Mulder looked at them out of the corner of his eye, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“There will be a board meeting about your status going forward. For now, you’re excused for the rest of this week. Your personal travel papers were approved for the funeral. My condolences.” 

They nodded, “Thank you, sir.” 

“You’re both dismissed.”

- 

The funeral was different than it had been the first time. The whole sheriff’s department showed up, hospital staff, nearly everyone in town. Linda Godfrey also showed up, only telling people she told them so a little. The town had decided to keep it a secret, but to keep the tourism alive they decided to make up stories that would continue to bring in paranormal investigators and those searching for the truth... just like they had been, just like Mulder.

They stayed at the cemetery, long after the crowd had gone. (Y/N) stared at the turned up soil where they had to rebury their parents. They stood, fiddling with their hands. 

“I want to thank you.” (Y/N) said to the air, “You knew something was wrong and took me away from that psycho before he could make me like him.” They teared up a little, “I just wish there was a different way home.” The crushing of the grass made them quickly wipe away their tears and turn. It was Mulder with two bouquets of flowers. 

“Mulder, what are you doing here?” 

“I’m your partner, I came to pay my respects, see you through this.” He kneeled down and placed the flowers against each grave stone. 

“I’m not your partner anymore. Hell, I’m not even sure if I’m an agent anymore.” They shook their head, “This was all I had left. I was helping people the best way I could and now I can’t even do that.” 

“About that.” Mulder stood, “I had a little meeting with Skinner and it’s all taken care of.” 

They stared at him, wide eyed, “What?” 

“I explained that because of your involvement we could bring Winterfield out of hiding and we could close the Xfile. He agreed, but you are being reassigned.” 

They grinned, “I could reassigned for janitor duty for all I care, this is great!”

“I don’t know.” He said, “I think you’re gonna hate it.” 

“Where is it? Violent crimes? Missing persons?” 

“Nope.” 

“Come on, Mulder, don’t mess with me.” They shoved his shoulder playfully. 

“You’ve been assigned to the xfiles. You’re stuck in the basement with me.” 

They chewed the inside of their cheek before saying: “Until Scully gets back?” 

He shook his head, “Nope.” 

Their chest burst with happiness. Not only does (Y/N) get to keep their job, they also get to stay with Mulder. They grinned, hugging Mulder tightly. He hugged them back, giving them a small squeeze. They pulled away slightly, looking up at him. His green eyes sparkled and his smile was everything. 

He leaned down slowly, giving them plenty of time to pull away, and pressed a light kiss to the corner of their mouth. He pulled away quickly, seeing their shocked expression. 

“I’m sorry, that was too forward of me-” (Y/N) cut him off with their lips on his. And that’s how it all began, their journey to becoming a special agent and Mx. Mulder.

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

My first XFiles fic! Yay! I have another one planned with Krycek but I’m not sure when that was going to happen. It’s a bit of self indulgence fic so I am not sure when I’ll have the details. 

Thank you all for reading!

Taglist:

- @theres-a-dog-outside-omg

- @nyotamalfoy

- @bi-andready-tocry