#& i told the woman i was unable to judge because i was just struggling with a lot

[rosesradio]

+

[binchansbiceps]

Can't Fight The Moonlight

Theme

Chapter 1: I Wonder

“We the jury find the defendant guilty on all charges” stated the male juror to speak for the collective 24. Immediately tears sprung from your eyes, terror running through your blood at what is going to happen to you. Panic rises and you find breathing difficult. Being told you're guilty on a mass murder charge that you didn’t commit will cause you to have a panic attack.

Trying to pull yourself together to listen to the judges verdict, takes a bit of a struggle. But when you do manage to, you hear the second worst verdict you could possibly hear. 

“3 life sentences and no chance of possible parole.” The judge declared and slammed her gavel down and with that sound, the world went black to you. 

Waking up to the hum of an engine you can’t help but question the scary dream you had of your older twin brother becoming a mass murder and you getting the blame for it because the police couldn’t see the few small strands of DNA that distinguished you and your brother on a cellular level.

When you go to move your arms to the side to help you sit up you feel a bracelet on each wrist and are unable to move them more then a few inches. Gasping as your eyes fly open and look down to see the bracelets were in fact handcuffs. 

Feeling another panic attack quickly rising, you scramble to look around you, seeing that you are the only one on the transport bus other than an officer at the front by the driver. Both of which ignore you and your panic attack.

Trying to ground yourself you look outside and see a park pass by. A memory of you and your brother playing there as kids flashes in your mind. 

Seeing friends' houses pass by and thinking of how they will get married one day and have children. Things you will never get to do anymore. 

All you could do was hope your parents and brother would do the right thing to get you out of this. Taking a deep breath in you tell yourself you just have to be strong till they do. 

Finally pulling up to a huge gated and guarded building you figure is the prison you will spend the rest of your life in, still in the low throes of a panic attack the cop walks over to you and grabs your cuffs forcing you to stand. Walking ahead of the officer and off the bus you see more officer guards waiting on the tarmac. 

“What the hell is this?” asked one as soon as the one on the bus with you stepped off.

“What do you mean this is your new prisoner” he said back gesturing to you. 

“That’s a woman, what is she doing here?” he snapped back.

“Look, all I know is this is where I'm supposed to bring her,” he said, grabbing a folder from the bus and handing it over to the pissed guard.

The guard took the folder checking it over before huffing “there has been a mistake but until we can transfer her she will have to stay here” he said rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“A mistake?” the officer asked 

“This is an all men's prison not meant for woman she’s gonna be eaten alive in here” pissed guard said before giving you a good look over “especially a mousy thing like her won’t make it an hour in here i can tell you that” 

Hearing that made you shake even more in fear, more tears falling from your eyes. looking to the officer who brought you here, for him to do something but stood in shock when all he did was shrug and get back on the transport bus saying how he did his job and it wasn’t his problem. Before the doors closed and the bus drove away leaving you to where you were now sure would be your death if not surely to wish for it. 

“Alright let's get you settled in girly,” the pissed guard said. Putting his hand on your back and leading you into the prison. Passing by other guards who all looked confused as to why you were there, you were brought to a barred door. Taking out the key from your folder he unlocked your cuffs “so what are you in here for?” he asked. 

Rubbing your wrists you looked to him before sighing “my twin brother committed mass murder, got cut or shot or something left blood DNA everywhere and because we have just about the exact same DNA the police took me and said i did it, jury believed it and now i'm going to live the rest of my life in jail” you told him as he handed you a blanket and pillow. 

He nodded before sending the signal to open the door to take you into the ward you assumed you would be staying in. “Sorry to hear that, you seem like a good kid that wouldn't do that. I hope things get fixed for you” he told you. “The name is Namjoon. I'm the warden here, call for me if you need anything I'll let my staff know to get me right away” Namjoon told you as you walked up a flight of stairs. 

Turning to the left and walking down a bit you stop in front of an open cell. “Felix, you have a new roommate. Behave.” he said before turning and walking away leaving you to your new roommate. 

From the top bunk a man with Silver hair rolls over and does a quick glance at you before doing a double take, and sitting up to get a better look at you. “Uh you're a girl” he says with a slight australian accent, jumping down from the bunk. You just give him a nod to scared to say anything. “How the hell are you here?” he asked. 

“Long story, i'm still trying to process it myself” you told him not wanting to repeat it again after just telling the warden. Moving to the bottom bunk and placing the blanket and pillow there before taking a seat and moving back to curl into yourself. 

“Now I got to know,” he said, climbing onto your bunk and staring at you with curious eyes. 

Retelling your story again you pulled your knees to your chest and hid your face as more tears that you didn’t think you had left in you came to the surface to fall down your face. 

“So you are innocent, haven’t ever done anything wrong in your life?” he asked. You just nodded to him. 

“Man that’s fucked” he said looking out to the main space before looking back to you “don’t worry stick by my side and i’ll keep you safe here, most guys here haven’t seen a girl in a long time and hell you look like a virgin, so they will be jumping at the chance to fuck you whether you like it or not” he told you. 

With even more fear of what was outside the doors to your room you could feel the panic building for a third time today. Felix hushed you and pulled you into his arms promising that he would protect you and that he won’t let anyone ever touch you.

[trashyocstash]

i made a post on mark, and now it's vivian's turn.

in contrast to mark, i imagine vivian's parents being very loving, both to their children and to each other. vivian's father is a well known and respected judge in the city, while vivian's mother is a housewife, kicked out of her career once she got married. unlike mark's mother, she held no resentment towards her husband, she knew it wasn't his fault and so didn't blame him. people were disappointed vivian's father only had daughters(i imagine vivian has a twin sister named virginia, though i don't have anything on her besides them being identical twins), no sons. who would carry on his legacy? it was believed neither of his daughters were capable of such a thing, being only girls.

for historical context, there's a lot to discuss in the way of women's rights, and how women in the 1950s/1960s/1970s were viewed. but it's far too much to get into here, so i'll just share some ads from the 60s or so(it's cut off but the second ad flat out says men are better than women).

and that girls in the 50s were expected to be nice, passive and with the expectations that someday they would be housewives and mothers. they were taught domestic skills like cooking and home economics. even if a women did go to college, it was still expected that she would have a husband and children eventually.

vivian grew up admiring her father, she always said she wanted a career in law just like him, that one day she would become a judge or a lawyer, but her dreams and aspirations were laughed off and dismissed, she was told of her limited prospects in life. she was upset, and while her father was supportive, he did not believe she would be able in law out of discrimination against women(women first entered law school in the late 19th century so it wasn't illegal, but there were certain jobs women were still expected to pursue instead like a nurse or teacher).

but eventually, vivian decided she wouldn't back down. she was going to get into law school and graduate no matter what anyone said, and if anyone laughed at her or dismissed her, she'd fiercly stand up for herself. vivian knew if she wanted a career in law, she had to be strong and resilient against misogyny. as an adult, she did eventually accomplish her goal of getting into law school and while she continues to face discrimination, she fights against it snd doesn't take others shit, she's definitely friends with other women there and any men that accept her, giving herself allies. she doesn't take kindly to be underestimated either.

this also ties into vivian being a second wave feminist, if she doesn't have certain rights, she will fight to change things instead. one reason she is motivated to have a law career is so that she has the power to change things. she's also aware of her mother being unable to keep her job out of being married, and doesn't want that to happen ever again.

additionally, vivian struggles with family expectations. her father loves her, but with his status as a highly respected judge, he wants vivian to be successful too. he knows she has to fight to be respected and encourages it. people are also aware of her father, and so place pressure on vivian to succeed. it's not helped by vivian resembling her father more than her mother. while her father is well known, she isn't interested in nepotism. vivian wants to be hired and respected for who she is and what she can do, and not just who her father is.

on top of all that, vivian is a bisexual women in the 70s. she struggles to talk about her sexuality and romantic feelings because of her insecurities around it, which has to do with why mark and vivian don't confess for a while. she loves him, but what if he was a woman? then suddenly those feelings wouldn't be acceptable to others.

as for vivian's arc, it will involve her accepting her sexuality, overcoming those familial expectations by asserting her own strength and abilities. she has a strong sense of justice which is another reason she wants to be in law, and her confidence grows through the way she helps others, and helps her be more open.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

182 Centimeters | Tall!F!Reader x Surprise

A great boon has been bestowed upon Aoi Todo. First, he got to meet Takada in person. Second, he gained a brother. Third, he was able to fight a special grade all in one month.

Is there anything else that could make this trip perfect?

Todo didn't think so until he lays eyes on you, standing in the middle of the hallway with luggage tucked under one arm and the other holding onto a rolling suitcase. He remembers now about Mai mentioning a late edition transfer student who was going to be joining in the school games a little late. He only wishes Mai had warned him about the other thing about you. The fact that you are an amazon in the flesh.

"She has to be 187," Todo thinks upon first seeing you and sizing you up from a respectable distance. "No, she's definitely closer to 185. Definitely, 185," he corrects as he tries to measure you by judging how far your head was away from the top door frame. When he glances down at your feet, he realizes his stupid mistake and smacks himself on the forehead. "I'm such an idiot. I forgot about her shoes." Taking your soles into account, he finally narrows down your height range. You have to be 182cm. An even 6 feet. That makes you taller than even Takada!

Todo's eyes widen upon the realization.

You had half his attraction factor right there; and with his help in training, you would definitely have the second half. He knows plenty of exercises that would make your ass look great and have the rest of your body strong enough to toss any curse. You guys could make training into dates, and dates would lead to the two of you making kissy faces. Aoi can already picture it. Naturally, you'd be admiring him, shirtless and glistening with sweat, unable to take your eyes off him. Then, you'd grow embarrassed when he would call you out on it and try to look away like you were never staring in the first place. Luckily for you, he wouldn't mind if you wanted to look at his chiseled chest a little while longer. Or better yet, touch it. 

Todo isn't sure what he's done to deserve such luck. Perhaps the world is rewarding him for finally breaking his record of 1000 sit-ups in an hour or maybe it's the limited-edition lucky Takada-chan charm that arrived in a mail a week earlier working its magic?

Either way, this might be the best year of his life, Todo decides.

That is until he hears a familiar voice. 

"Hey there! How are you doing?" Yuuji asks loudly as he walks up to your person. Todo should've known. Of course, his brother would sense best girl material walking into the building.

"My name is Yuuji. What's yours?"

"I'm (Name). I'm a new student here. I'm a little lost actually. Could you help me out?"

Even your voice sounds so cute! You were so perfect.

That means Yuuji had no chance with the way he was doing things now. Despite Todo wanting you for himself, he could never leave his brother to make such an embarrassment of himself. If the two of them are to battle for your love, it has to be a fair battle.

"Yeah, the dorms are thi—" Yuuji yelps as he's suddenly tugged away from you and dragged around the nearest corner, leaving you in a confused state where you stood.

"What’s the big idea?" Yuuji asks, breaking free from the grasp that held him.

"I'm trying to save you, brother! What do you think you're doing walking up to a woman like that so casually?" Todo asks.

It takes Yuuji a few seconds to realize that Todo meant you were the woman that couldn't be so casually spoken to since he's fairly sure you're a first-year like him. "I'm pretty sure she's the same age as us, dude."

This is worse than he thought. He's definitely going to have to give Yuuji the rundown on how to properly ask a girl out. "That doesn't matter. She's still a lady that requires finesse if you're going to try to ask her out," Todo says. 

Sadly, they are too busy in their discussion to notice you getting impatient for Yuuji to return or to notice another one of your classmates passing them and heading in your direction. You are just thankful to finally have someone help walk you to your dorm and not ditch you instead.

For the rest of the day, Yuuji is stuck with Todo lecturing in his ear. The first time being at the baseball game against the Kyoto school.

"First, you need to set the mood. And by mood, I mean you need to get her attention on you. Do something to impress her without her knowing you're trying to impress her," Todo instructs as you round home base on long legs, which Todo claims is made for a goddess. You were able to get a score for the team thanks to Fushiguro's sacrifice bunt, and the two of you take a seat in the dugout.

"Shouldn't you be helping your team?" Yuuji asks Todo after seeing him compliment your score. Todo sighs. Obviously, Yuuji needs more lessons. 

Eventually, Yuuji steps up to the plate for his turn. Naturally, he hits a home run. As he rounds home, he sees you applauding loudly. Your eyes perfectly on him. It definitely feels good to have a cute girl's attention, and Yuuji realizes that he did really want to ask you out. He wonders if Todo thinks that's a good way to set the mood.

The next time Todo decides to instruct Yuuji is after they all take their showers and decide to rest up before dinner. "Next, you need to leave a letter under her door. Something to pique her interest and make her want to meet up with you."

Luckily, Yuuji has seen this before in anime. "Right, right. I heard of that actually." He easily drafted a letter and slid it under your dorm door. It sounds like you're talking to someone else on the other side so Yuuji hopes you'll see it in time so the two of you can meet up in fifteen minutes.

"Finally, make sure the place you meet up is scenic," Todo says, nodding his head and closing his eyes to repeat the steps in his head as he follows his brother to the school's courtyard. Impress? Check. Letter? Check. Scenic meet-up place? Check.

It isn't until he feels Yuuji's hand on his shoulder and a quick thanks that Todo realizes his mistake. Yuuji rushes away from him to the other side of the courtyard where you're waiting with the letter in hand. 

"My name is Yuuji. I don't know if you remember me from class."

"Oh, yes, I know! You hit that homerun. It was really great."

Todo stands in shock. 

...He was so busy trying to teach that he actually forgot to pursue you first!

"Really? Thanks! I was just trying to make sure I actually hit it. I wasn't expecting it to go so far." Yuuji laughed. "So, (Name), I was wondering if you wanna go out together?"

Todo could cry. Actually, he already feels the tears coming down his face, but his brother could at least be happy. And if his brother is happy, that's all he needed!

"I'm sorry," you say sweetly. "I only showed up because I didn't want to stand you up, but the truth is I already like someone, and I wouldn't feel comfortable going out with someone when I have a crush on another person."

Todo's ears ring with your words. You already like someone!

"Oh, well, that's too bad, I guess. Thanks for telling me," Yuuji says with a disappointed yet understanding smile while Todo finds the opportunity to scoot in the middle of your conversation.

"Excuse me but your crush wouldn't happen to be on me by any chance?" he asks, hopeful.

You force a smile onto your face and tilt your head. "Sorry...Have we met?" you ask, nervously.

Todo gasps as he feels his world crashing down. Your date. Your marriage. Your kids. All gone, and it’s all black in his memory after that. The next thing he can recall is sitting in the eating area with Itadori. He remembers this heartache once before. "It's just like with Takada-chan..." he mumbles heartbrokenly.

"I told you already. We never went to the same middle school, and you never confessed to Takada," Yuuji grumbles, but Todo knows that Yuuji is only trying to make him feel better. He is so lucky to have such a good brother.

"Who...Who do you think it is anyway?"

Yuuji pauses.

He actually wonders that as well.

Then, they hear your voice ringing through the dining hall. Immediately, both sets of eyes are on you. 

"Fushiguro-kun, I wanted to thank you for helping me get settled into the academy. My mom gave me a buy one, get one free for a sushi place for when I made some friends, so...I was wondering if you wanted to be my plus one?"

Then, Yuuji finally gets it. He had been ignoring the small conversations happening around him the entire time thanks to Todo's interruptions.

The Hall.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for the dorms. Gojo-sensei was supposed to show me, but he got sidetracked so I've been sort of left on my own."

"Of course, he did. Geeze, that guy." Megumi sighs. "You can follow me. I'll show you where some empty rooms near the other girls are."

"Thank you so much! I'm (Name) by the way."

"Fushiguro," he states plainly and simply as you struggle behind him with your luggage. "Is that stuff heavy? Want me to help you carry it?"

”Yes. My arms got numb while I was waiting. Thank you so much!”

The Game.

"Out!" Gojo says. Fushiguro rounds first base to head back to the dugout, but you at least made it home to score. You head to the dugout as well.

"That's too bad, Fushiguro. You'll get it next time," you say, sitting next to him.

"As long as Kugisaki made it to second and you made it home then it's fine. I'm not really too hyped up on winning anyway."

”Oh. I was really looking forward to seeing you get one.”

”Too bad. Guess you’ll have to wait,” and by “wait” Megumi had meant probably not ever but you laughed anyway even though you had got what he meant. 

”I don’t mind waiting.”

The Dorms.

"Kugisaki-san said you could summon different shikigami animals."

"That's true."

"Would you mind showing me sometime? I love animals."

"What is your favorite?"

"I really like rabbits. Are you able to summon those?"

"Not at the moment, but I’ll show you when I learn it. How do you feel about dogs instead?"

”That cute dog was yours? That’s amazing.”

And now.

"Yeah, sure. I wasn't really in the mood for anything at school anyway," Fushiguro agrees, and your face lights up with a glow that could rival sunshine. Yuuji thinks if he squints he can see the anime hearts starting to dance over your head but Fushiguro didn't seem to mind.

Itadori could almost laugh. That's a new record in anyone ever befriending Fushiguro. The two of you must have hit it off really well. Yuuji smiles. In that case, he couldn't be upset. That must mean fate has something in store for you guys, and he didn't want to get in the way. "I guess girls really do like that cool, quiet type."

Meanwhile, Todo is crying in defeat. How could a woman like you like Fushiguro? 

"He's so boring though..."

[ukrfeminism]

Sir Keir Starmer said that “trans women are women” as he called for a more “respectful” debate on transgender issues.

The Labour leader called for reform of gender recognition laws to introduce greater “respect and dignity” for transgender people after two of his shadow cabinet ministers struggled this week to define what a woman was.

Yvette Cooper, the shadow home secretary, said that she did not want to go down the “rabbit hole” of a definition, while Anneliese Dodds, the shadow women and equalities minister, pointed to the range of different definitions in a variety of contexts.

Asked to define a woman, Starmer replied: “A woman is a female adult, and in addition to that trans women are women, and that is not just my view — that is actually the law. It has been the law through the combined effects of the 2004 [Gender Recognition] Act and the 2010 [Equality] Act. So that’s my view. It also happens to be the law in the United Kingdom.”

The Labour leader called for reforms of the Gender Recognition Act, under which people diagnosed with gender dysphoria who have lived in their acquired gender for at least two years can apply to be legally recognised.

“The process that people have to go through does need to be looked at,” he told The Times. “If you talk to anybody who’s been through the process there’s a real issue about respect and dignity.”

Plans developed under Theresa May could have seen reforms that allowed transgender people to achieve legal recognition of their gender based on self-declaration, removing the requirement for a medical diagnosis. Boris Johnson’s government in 2020 did not go ahead with self-identification.

The devolved Scottish government has proposed changes that would not require a medical diagnosis. Some campaigners say that they would affect the provision of single-sex services or women-only spaces.

Asked about the Scottish government’s plans, Starmer replied: “The Gender Recognition Act needs to be reformed. And I believe in safe spaces for women — I’m very clear about those too. I think the 2004 act needs to be reformed, I think the 2010 act, the Equality Act, which does provide for safe spaces for women is right. And therefore I’m very straightforward about this.”

He called for a “more considered, respectful, tolerant debate about these issues”. Starmer added: “I don’t think it furthers the interests of anybody to continue the debate in the way that it’s been going on now for some time.”

Transgender rows have flared within the party periodically in recent years.

Rosie Duffield, the Labour MP for Canterbury, said that she felt unable to attend the annual party conference because of her views. Duffield, who denies being transphobic, believes there should be protected spaces that are not open to those who are biologically male. She was criticised last year after supporting those who opposed using the phrase “individuals with a cervix” instead of “women”.

Starmer said at the time the claim that only women had cervixes was “something that shouldn’t be said”. He added that the government needed to “go further” to protect trans people, who were “amongst the most marginalised and abused communities”.

Labour has also faced questions this week over the membership of John Bercow, the former Speaker. An independent panel chaired by a former appeal court judge said this week he was a “serial bully” and a “serial liar”. Bercow vociferously denies the allegations.

Bercow, a Conservative MP before becoming Speaker, joined Labour last year. He has been suspended pending an investigation. Starmer denied having any regrets about Labour’s work with Bercow — whose expansive interpretation of the Speaker’s powers played a large role in the parliamentary wrangling over Brexit while Starmer was shadow Brexit secretary.

“He was no part of Labour’s strategy on Brexit,” Starmer said. “Labour’s strategy on Brexit was hammered out around the shadow cabinet table . . . he had his own way of being Speaker of the House. But there were people in all parties who liked him and didn’t like him.

“We’ve got a report, I accept that report. Zero tolerance [for bullying] in whatever workplace you’re in and whoever you are.”

[whimsicallyreading]

For Day 29 of Rowaelin Month

“A song fic-“

The song- “Always Been You” by Quinn XCII

CW- Mentions of miscarriage and divorce

"I can't believe you right now."

Rowan looks at his wife in frustration. She's sitting at the end of their bed, staring listlessly at the wall. The skirt of the red dress she's wearing is wrinkled, and his heart aches when he notices the mascara marks on her cheeks.

"Aelin," Rowan tries again to reach for her, but she leans away from his grasp.

"No, Rowan. I'm done."

Rowan takes a long swing from the beer in front of him. The time on his phone alerts him that he's spent most of the evening sulking at his bar.

The guys had invited him to dinner, but Rowan hadn't felt like going in light of his current situation. Instead, choosing to meander to the shady little pub they'd passed by coming from the airport.

His lawyer had sent him numerous emails. Documents to sign, agreements to approve, and papers he needed to read through before sending them to the judge.

Divorce was a pain, and Aelin wasn't making it easy.

"Hey, bud. I thought I might find you here." Fenrys slides onto the barstool next to his.

Rowan sighs and rubs the lines forming on his forehead. "Well, I thought it was obvious I didn't want company."

"Too bad. Drinking alone isn't a good look on you." Fenrys raises a hand and motions for another round of beers. "How are things going with ya know?"

"Shitty. She's never paid a dime of rent on that apartment, but she wants the lease signed into her name and for me to front the first four months of rent." Rowan cracks a peanut between his finger. He has no intent to eat the growing pile in front of him. He just craved the satisfaction of breaking something.

"Well, have you talked to her about that?" Fenrys frowns in sympathy, knowing how equally attached both parties were to the little rental.

Rowan laughs mirthlessly. "No, she said that it was better if our conversations were mediated. I always knew Aelin was catty, but she's acting like such a-"

"Don't." Fenrys gives Rowan a severe look. "I know you are upset, but don't start saying shit you'll regret."

Rowan pauses and reluctantly nods his agreement. It's the alcohol talking. He knew the problems that had festered his marriage were predominantly his responsibility.

He takes a deep breath, but a heaviness seems to keep the air from reaching his lungs fully. The weight was slowly becoming too familiar, starting the day Aelin had presented him with the papers.

Rowan wishes he'd done more. Wishes he'd paid more attention and seen the signs of Aelin's unhappiness.

The day Aelin had broken down in their bedroom had been a cold wake-up call but by then? It was already too late.

"You missed our anniversary Rowan." Aelin shouts and pulls her heels off angrily.

Rowan picks up a shoe and tries to hand it back to her. "I know. I'm sorry. It's not too late, though. We can still go out? There's still time to salvage-"

Aelin turns away from him and seems to fold in on herself. Rowan wants to reach out. He wants to hold her, but something dark is building in the air.

"I don't want your leftovers, Rowan," Aelin whispers. "That's all I get anymore—your leftover time. Your leftover attention. Whatever leftover resentment you bring home from work."

"Aelin-" he tries to cut off her depressive spiral, but she's not finished.

"You used to call me during the day." Aelin's voice cracks, and he realizes she's crying. "Every day, you would call me on your break. Now you don't even call when you leave town."

"Baby, just listen to me." He puts his hands on her shoulders, but Aelin breaks his grasp to turn around and look at him.

"Is there someone else?" Her eyes are wide and vulnerable. So unlike his regular Aelin."

"What?" His brain is struggling even to formulate a reply. Rowan's lack of response only causes Aelin to worry more.

Something in her cracks. There's a quiver to her lips, and her face drains of color. "Oh. Oh no."

"Aelin. I swear there is no one else." Rowan finally says, but it's too late.

"Is," Aelin presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Is it because I lost the baby?" She sucks in a hiccupping breath. "You've always wanted kids. So did I, but my fucking body doesn't work."

Aelin closes her eyes, and Rowan knows she's speaking more to herself than him, but her words gut him just the same. "My body doesn't work right. I keep giving us false hopes and wasting money on pregnancy tests. Of course, you would look for a woman who can give you what you want."

He's surprised by the sudden flare of anger in him. "Don't put words in my mouth. That will never be your fault."

They'd known right from the start their journey to parenthood would be a long one. Aelin had a family history of complicated fertility. It had seemed so trivial when they got married. Yet even knowing there could be issues, nothing quite prepared them for the pain of a miscarriage.

Aelin sniffles, unable to force back her grief, "But you resent me. Don't you?"

Rowan doesn't reply.

"It's rough," Rowan admits out loud. "I let a lot get left unsaid. I was hurt and pushed her away. Now she won't even speak to me without a lawyer present."

Fenrys nods, "It's all probably for the best. Once this is over, you guys can put this drama behind you."

"I wish it were that easy," Rowan knocks back the rest of his beer. He grimaces at the drink. It's not taking hold quickly enough.

Fenrys raises an eyebrow. "You both will be able to shut the book on this chapter of your lives and move on? Considering how bloody you two have been fighting, it sounds ideal."

They sit in silence. Fenrys takes the peanut basket away from Rowan and picks at the shells. The bartender comes by, and disgruntledly eyes Rowan's pile of crumbs as he orders a whiskey neat.

Fen was like his little brother, but Rowan found it hard to admit his real problem to him aloud. "I still love her."

The basket goes flying over the side of the counter, and Fenrys chokes on his beer. "What?"

Rowan can't look him in the eye, "We lost a baby. It was early. Aelin didn't want to tell everyone. Three years we tried to get pregnant, and finally, a test comes back positive. She was so happy."

"Shit," Fenrys says quietly. "I'm so sorry."

"It was there, and then it was gone. I thought Aelin was fine. She cried for a week, but then it was like a switch flipped, and she was back to normal." Rowan clenches a napkin in his fist. "I was devastated. It hurt like hell, but I didn't want to send her back into a depression." Rowan shakes his head at how stupid he'd been. "So I put some distance between us. I didn't want her to think I was upset with her."

"I didn't feel better," Rowan sips the whiskey, relishing the warmth. "It made me mad that she got over it so quickly, and I couldn't. I didn't realize that I was growing that space between us. I didn't understand how much guilt she harbored and that she tried to be strong for me. Not until she broke."

"We fought. I said all the wrong things. Aelin couldn't take it anymore, she left, and I didn't stop her." Rowan leans his head on his hands and elbows against the counter. "She's the love of my life, and I watched her walk out the door."

Fenrys sucks in a breath and sighs. "You are my best friend, and I mean this in the most loving way possible. Why the hell are you here?"

"What?" Rowan looks at Fenrys annoyed face.

"Get out of here. Go. I'll tell the boss you have ebola or some shit." Fenrys fishes his wallet out and throws cash on the bar. "I'll even cover the tab. Just leave. Now."

"What? I don't understand?"

Fenrys looks at Rowan like he's stupid. "No offense, but you are about as interesting as a brick wall. The fact you caught a girl like Aelin is astonishing. If you love her, are you honestly going to let her go on being miserable?"

"She's not miserable," Rowan scoffs.

Fenrys laughs bitterly. "You forget I'm pals with Aedion too? Aelin winds up at his house almost every evening crying her eyes out. You two are still hopelessly in love. You're just dumb and badly in need of a good conversation."

"Aelin is upset?" A sense of disbelief washes over him.

"Yes! She misses you, but she's under the impression you are off sleeping around." His face saddens. "I told Aedion you weren't. He knows I go on all of these trips with you. Aelin's just upset you're gone and needs to believe in something that can help her let go."

Rowan stands up, swaying. "I have to go."

"Hell yeah, you do. Give Aelin my love," Fenrys waves as Rowan vates the bar like a hawk out of hell.

Aelin sets the stack of papers in front of him.

Rowan had been camping out in his office ever since there disaster of an anniversary. He'd texted a few times, but every time they talked, it was like relighting a fuze. Things weren't getting better.

"What are these?" Rowan asks without looking up from his screen.

"Your ticket to freedom," Aelin sits in the chair across from him.

She looks thin, thinner than she did when Arobynn was her foster father. It physically hurts Rowan that he's causing her that kind of stress. Glancing at the papers, she slapped in front of him. His blood becomes like an ice river through his body. "Aelin-"

"I'm not the one for you. That's apparent now. I won't hold you hostage in a marriage that you aren't happy in." Aelin blinks, and a tear slides down her face. He wants to wipe it away, but he's beyond angry. She was giving up on them.

"If this is what you want," Rowan slides the papers towards him and pulls out a pen.

Rowan is racing the familiar paths to their apartment. He doesn't care that it's almost four in the morning. The plane ride between Perranth and Ornyth is mercifully short, but he can't force himself to wait another minute.

"Aelin," he yells through their door. "Baby, answer me. Open the door."

Rowan's fists tap a consistent rhythm on the door, and his heart skips a beat when a bedraggled Aelin finally appears. "Rowan, do you know what time it is?"

She's in a pair of grey flannel pajamas, not one of her usual silky numbers. Aelin's eyes are red around the edges, and her face is still dewy from the excessive amount of lotion he knows she loves to put on. Rowan knows all of her routines. All of her favorite outfits, comfort movies, and best memories. He knows the scar she has on her left hand from an abusive foster father. Rowan remembers how the bridge of her nose wrinkles when she's upset in the same spot her cousin's does.

He knows everything about her, because not only were they husband and wife, they were best friends.

How could he have let that go?

Before Aelin can ask any more questions, Rowan has swept her into his arms. "I missed you so damn much."

"Rowan, have you been drinking?" Aelin asks in a voice cracked with emotion.

His hands are running up her back, and his knows burrows into her hair. He's always loved the smell of her jasmine shampoo. "Fireheart, I never resented you for losing the baby."

"Rowan, I don't want to talk about this," Aelin tries to push him away, but he squeezes her into his chest, and she melts.

That had been his mistake. He should have held Aelik like this and never let her go on pretending to be happy. How could he know everything about this woman and not have seen past her facade? She'd suffered. His own pain had blinded him.

"Aelin, I've made so many mistakes lately." Rowan rubs the back of Aelin's neck the way she likes, and he can feel the sobs starting to build up inside of her. "But the greatest shame of my life is not being there for you when you needed me. I was stupid, Fireheart. I'm not going to be stupid any longer. This separation can't go on, we aren't any happier for it, and I can't live knowing I'm away from the other half of my soul."

Aelin cracks, and he can feel the tears wetting the front of his shoulder. "You were never home. I thought there was someone else, someone who could give you the things you wanted because I can't."

Her whole form is shuddering his arms, and Rowan squeezes tighter as if he can hold her broken pieces together. "It's always been you. I don't care if we adopt or never have any kids at all. All I need is you, baby. You are all I've ever needed."

Suddenly, hands are in Rowan's hair as Aelin crushes their lips together. The kiss is frantic, a relief of the stress they'd carried upon their shoulders.

"I missed you too," Aelin whispers in between kisses. “Gods I mussed you so much.”

The rest of their night is filled with soothing words, frantic kissing, and murmured apologies. Rowan kisses the tears from her cheeks and Aelin looks into his eyes like she’s home. Nail dig into skin as they promise never to be apart again.

For the first time in months they sleep in the same bed. Rowan sinks into a deep restful sleep with his wife in his arms once more. He loves the way her cold toes search out his heat. How Aelin fits so perfectly against his chest. When he wakes up and she’s still there, his heart nearly features from relief.

After months of pain, it's the beginning of their walk towards healing.

The days after aren't perfect. They had legal issues to sort back out, more problems to lay bare to the sunlight. There was arguing, but it lacked actual heat, and they didn't walk away feeling unloved at the end. No longer did they fight to land barbs. Their bickering now served to work towards solutions and to express needs.

Between struggles, the love began to grow back. Rowan kept his job at work, and when he was home, it was about them. He started calling her on his breaks again, and it always astonished him how much he missed the sound of her voice. They both strived to communicate their feelings better and actually listen instead of reacting.

Aelin surprised him with romantic dates, and Rowan read pages of her favorite books to her at night. They danced in the kitchen and laughed at their favorite shows.

Fixing their marriage was hard work, but Rowan and Aelin didn't mind. The separation proved that neither of them wanted a life without the other. It was to whatever end, and they wouldn't accept anything less for them.

On one Sunday morning, Rowan opens his eyes and realizes that Aelin isn't on her side of the bed. Panic surges in him, and he looks around to make sure her things are still there.

They are, and the tension eases from his shoulders until he hears soft crying from the bathroom. Darting out of bed, he grabs Aelin's bathrobe and knocks on their bathroom door. "Aelin, what's wrong?"

Had he screwed something up? Was she sick?

The lock clicks, granting him silent permission for him to come inside. Rowan pushes the door open and finds Aelin crying on the side of the tup. With gentle hands, he wraps her robe around her and throws an arm over her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Aelin looks up at him, a radiant smile on her face. "Look."

Rowan glances down to her clenched fists and-

He blinks, once, twice. Aelin laughs at his dumbfounded face, and it breaks his paralysis. Rowan grabs her around the waist and spins her around the cramped bathroom, the positive pregnancy test clattering to the floor.

Aelin's arms wrap around his neck. The emotion in the room is raw and bittersweet, but there's a hopefulness that can't be denied. Rowan holds her tight as they process the news. When they break apart, the love between them is palpable. They had another shot at this, a fresh start.

Hards times would come and go, but good days were never far behind for them. Because for Aelin and Rowan, it's always been them.

And that's all they needed.

[sly-merlin]

GOT PLAYED | JENO

Hello mam can I request a lawyer jeno scenario where reader (gender neutral so everyone can read) is a prosecutor and they are in the same court together

Lawyer Boyfriend jeno , gender neutral lawyer reader

Genre : fluff with nonsense bickering

Words: 1.5k

a/n: jeno is a big boi now! Happy jeno-ing!! Also the terms used are local to my country. It may vary in your state.

----

your butt was itching to dance out in the centre of the courtroom. Clicking your forefinger on the watch, you observed the lovely minute hand completing another circle, indicating the approaching end of the waiting time. The opposing party being a minute more late would mean nothing but good news for your client, resulting in another victory for you.

But when had you ever won anything without a little struggle! As the clock on the wall hit 11, the door of the room opened and across the room stood Jeno, breathing heavily like he had been running since hours. You rolled your eyes at his awful timing. He handed over his briefcase to his client and wore his blazer hurriedly while simultaneously bowing to the judge in deference and apology. The judge, disregarding his gesture with his hand called him to the front. You got up as well, in annoyance of course. You had very much hoped for his car to have punctured on its way but it seemed like he needed to get on your nerves even in the court as well. standing beside him, you couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles on the right side of his blazer. The oddity puzzled you at first but suddenly, with a subtle glare from his side, you were made aware of the reason behind his change of clothes. Not wearing the ones that you steam ironed last night was a show of anger towards you, even if it made him look like a fool in front of the whole chamber.

“a minute late and I’d have passed an interlocutory order against your client Mr.lee” breaking your trance, the judge warned him. He bowed again and mumbled a mannerly apology, the like of which you deserved too.

“today the hearing would start with the counter evidence of the defendant side, that is,” he sifted through the list of the evidence provided beforehand, “the bank records of both the parties. Please proceed advocate lee”

“yes, your honour. As I explained in a previous hearing, my client, mrs. Shin has been working as a manager of the Kwon industries since 14 years. On the other hand, mr. shin started a poker business with the money she used to save up for their only son’s future. All the transactions from her personal accounts to mr. shin’s were innocently carried out by her as she was kept under a false impression regarding the use of her money, which she never would have allowed in her right mind. The proof of these transfers is the evidence I’m going to present that is the receipts and annual reports.”

The urge to smack his tongue for the lies it told was uncontrollable but you breathed in. you inhaled all the bitterness back to your throat and stood there like an obedient child with a face ridden of any expressions.

After what felt like minutes, you snapped your head in his direction to notice the browsing he was doing in his briefcase. The questionable look on his face drew a smirk into your own as you understood the sensitiveness of the matter in hand. He forgot. The papers!

Throwing your charitable side out of the door, you turned towards the judge,

“it seems like the opposing counsel has nothing to produce, your honour.”

You felt his clenching jaw and irritated eyes.

“mr. lee, if you are unable to proceed then i’ll have to pass a maintenance order against your client.”

“no!” he interrupted, “that would be unfair to this poor lady sir. don’t penalise her for my negligence. The evidence can turn the course of this whole case. if you may, I’d request another date-

“he’s going to forget again. He forgets everything these days” before you could control, you spit out.

The judge didn’t seem to be impressed by your uncalled interruption so he warned you to speak only when allowed. But with a mouth as big as his, jeno never knew what resistance meant so he remarked,

“and my dear friend here forgets the ethics of a courtroom, disrespecting seniors like this! There is not much difference between us then I must say.”

Your lip twitched at the not so subtle mention of the fight you had in the morning, right before the breakfast. Now you were adamant on proving that no matter the place and circumstances, you were definitely not similar to him in any way.

“disrespecting and raising matters of importance are two varied things and my dear counsel should be reading those ethic rules for himself as he’s the one jeopardising the position of his client in the court due to his own manners. I request the court to grant mr. shin all the rights to his properties that mrs. Shin had seized years ago. He’s a disabled man and he cannot work by himself and the lack of evidence is a clear indication that the defendants are just trying to waste the time of the court. Along with the rights of the properties, a lawful possession of the house and maintenance charges are also requested. All the claims can be found on the page 15 of the-

“I object, your honour. I am accepting my mistake. This woman deserves a second chance. My junior was sick and since he has no near and dear in this town, I had to go and care for him. in the hurry, I forgot the papers at home. It was not delibra-

“what if you don’t remember this next time either? Until then my client is going to suffer in a small and stinky apartment and all because of your carelessness.”

“I’m not careless,” He whispered yelled.

“yes,” now facing him, you said, arms crossed in front of you torso, “a man who can’t even hold a mug properly shouldn’t be the one talking about-

“you started it by smashing the music box. It was a gift by jaemin. I bet you did it deliberately too!”

“I was sleep walking! I apologised already! There was no need to break my favourite mug you bit-

The sound of gavel reverberated in the small family courtroom, snapping both of you in the reality.

You gulped slightly, eyes boring into jeno’s but with unknown fear. In an instant, the worst consequences of blunder you both had knowingly-unknowingly committed flashed across your eyes and you both whirled around, backs bent like you both never knew what a straight spine ever looked like!

“keep your personal and professional life separate or choose the one most suitable. The court is adjourned for two days. You both shall be heavily fined for your inappropriate behaviour. Next time, I won’t be lenient. Collect your slips from the clerk.”

Apologising verbally, you took your leave.

Standing outside, you waited for the lunch time to pass so you could pay the fine. you were mad at jeno but more than him, you were furious with yourself for losing your direction. You had done exactly what you were trying to accuse jeno of in the court.

Your eyes were closed in regret when you felt soft lips on your forehead.

Smiling widely, jeno stood there as if he hadn’t been scolded for the unprofessionalism just a few hours ago.

“don’t talk to me.” You uttered, lowering your gaze.

“awww! Look how easy it is to rile you up. Thank you though”

unsure of what he said, you asked,

“for what?”

“for fighting with me! Your bickering saved my ass. The old man was going to decide the case but your cute brain worked at the wrong time! Now I have two days to turn all my lies into a living truth. All because of you my darling.”

“what the fuck I’m gonna ki-

“yeah yeah. kiss me all you want when we are home. Be professional here!” he breathed out. “how about I treat you to a nice meal to return the favour.”

Chest heaving up and down, you looked him dead in the eye, his revelations not sounding too amusing to your ears. Raising your hand up and waving the fine slip in front of him, you challenged,

“I dare you to repeat this again and I promise you wont get enough time to regret it!”

Not that you actually expected him to cry in front of you in intimidation, a hearty laugh from his body wasn’t anticipated either.

“what the fuck je-

You were once again cut off by his lips that met your cheek in a wet kiss, lasting too long for a public setting.

You hated the way he loved testing your patience.

Moving his soft lips from your cheek to your ear, he sighed before murmuring in an indecently low voice,

“you better get a new music box before jaemin visits me or I know how to make you regret your actions.”

Unmoved, you stared at him with doe eyes. He walked away before returning back only to snatch the paper slip from your hands.

“I’ll pay and sign. Go have lunch. Try to finish early today, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Innocently smiling, he left as if everything that had happened was nothing but delusion. And you hated the way he knew you like the back of his hand. But you were going to make sure he lost this one to you. Once and forever.

[sluttbuttsstuff]

Silver Chariot Agency: An Introduction

This is the first chapter/prologue to my jjba sugar daddy au.  To clarify, it’s modern day, with reader x various Jojo characters, all of which are of age, and “sugar daddies”.  I’m hoping to have several options/outcomes for various characters, kind of like a chose you own adventure story, or a dating visual novel.  As a note, this story may contain some dark themes and content, including drug use, yandere, sex scenes, and other things I haven’t currently planned out.

TLDR: this is the story about Y/N, who starts working at Polnareff’s sugar daddy agency and meets lots of hot jojo guys

ENJOY!!!

“Mr. Polnareff is ready to see you now!”  The cheerful secretary (Suzy, you think)  calls out, breaking you from your stupor and ushering you behind large, intimidating doors.   You grew up with dreams bigger than this, having a good career, doing something important with your life, but life had other plans.  You’ve been unemployed for nearly a year, and despite all the classes you’ve taken, interviews you’ve aced, and concessions to pay and pride just to be considered, you still had no job, and your unemployment had finally run out.  Long story short, you were desperate.  That’s when you first heard about the Agency.

You had noticed an email from the Silver Chariot Agency buried between job applications and rejection letters, and confusing it for a job offer, had opened it to read.  According to the email, you had been “scouted” as someone with the qualifications to apply for what appeared to be a Sugar Daddy, or Escort, service.    The email was polite, open and honest, but you couldn’t help but be a bit skeptical, if not mildly offended. There’s nothing wrong with sex work, mind you, but it wasn’t something you had any interest in if you could avoid it. You weren’t interested in selling yourself, and even if you weren’t wealthy, you weren’t ready to auction off your time to creepy old perverts just yet.  Not to mention, how safe were these agencies?  Still, the email had an open doors policy for any questions, as well as a phone number and email to direct all your questions.  You were going to delete the email, but somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to.  You saved it in your folder, and forgot about it for a few months.

Cut to today:  you couldn’t cover your rent, your auto bill, and your credit cards were maxed out.  After sending an email, and talking on the phone to a cheerful woman, she convinced you to visit their offices and talk to their C.E.O,  who was visiting your nearest location on business.  Surprised by their openness, and relieved not to have a door slammed in your face for once, you made an appointment and were now following Suzy through an impressive office space.  Silver Chariot had its own expensive looking building, with high ceilings, metal tones and spotlessly clean wall to wall windows and mirrors.  The place reeked of elegance, intimidatingly so, and you regretted your outfit choice for this interview.  

Suzy finally escorted you into a conference room, with an expansive metal table and tufted leather chairs that probably cost more than your car.  Then, at the end of the conference table, you saw a silver haired gentleman, who Suzy introduced as, “Mr. Polnareff, this is y/n, call me if you need anything!”  and with that, she left and closed the door.  You noticed  Mr.Polnareff didn’t stand up to greet you and shake your hand-not out of rudeness, but because he was in a wheelchair.  On top of that, he had an unusual looking eye patch, and despite clearly being too young to be considered elderly, had prematurely grey hair slicked back in an unusual pompadour.

He shook your hand firmly, and smiled at you as he greeted you, “It’s so lovely to meet you, y/n, I've been looking forward to seeing you in person.  Tell me, what brings you here today?”  He asked, sitting forward and listening intently.  You fiddled with your hands, trying to politely, but vaguely, explain your situation, without sounding too much like a sob story.  Polnareff listened without interrupting, merely nodding, as you explained what you’ve been through.

  “That sounds like a difficult situation- it is difficult in this day and age for young people to support themselves, even more so when they have no one to help them when needed.  I, myself, had to support not only myself, but my younger sister, Cherie, when I was your age.  It was difficult, to say the least, and I didn’t always handle it gracefully to be honest with you.  When my sister saw how much we were struggling, she decided to try helping herself and me by turning to sex work.”

You were shocked by his openness, telling so much of his personal story to a total stranger interviewing at his agency.  He continued,

“Back in my day, the streets of France were not a safe place to sex workers, least of all vulnerable women unable to defend themselves.  It was one of those nights, while my sister was working, that she was tragically attacked and killed.  She had no way of protecting herself, as I wasn’t with her, and the police were just as dangerous.  She died alone because no one was willing to help save her, myself included.  He paused, rubbing his temples as he remembered.

You tried to stop him, “Um, you don’t have to-”  you began, but he held up a hand and assured you,

 “I am fine, it is a painful, but old wound, and important you hear.  It was the most devastating event of my life, but it shaped me into the man I am today.  You see, because of what happened to my sister, I was determined to provide a safe place to any and all women and sex workers, no questions asked, to protect them from things that could happen to them.  Sex work is not something to be criminalized or judged; it is the oldest profession and a valuable work. So, The Silver Chariot Agency provides a safe way to support those in the industry.  That being said, working as an escort, or as it's sometimes called, ‘sugar baby’-”

 he punctuates the term with bunny ear fingers, “-Can be dangerous work.  There is always a risk of assault, and rape, however hard we may try to combat it, but our agency has extremely strict policies and protection plans to protect our workers in either case. I promise , should you decide to work here, that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”  Polnareff grabs your hand, looking into your eyes, intensely.  

You know you’ve just met him, but you’re inclined to believe Polnareff.  He’s either an excellent liar, or simply cares deeply about his company and employees.  

“There are, of course, other things to consider before you decide to take this job.  It is  a job, and many of our clients aren’t looking for romance, but some are hoping to find love and a potential romantic partner via our agency.  Some are looking for purely sexual relationships, and some want nothing to do with sex.  Some of our clients are involved with...less than legal hobbies and activities, and we strongly caution you not to get involved, as our legal department and contracts can only protect you so far.  If you decide to engage, do so with caution. 

“ Lastly, you ultimately get to decide who you want to pick as your clients, so choose wisely.  I have Suzy-”  He gestures to the woman, presumably waiting down the hall to escort you when ready, “Write up summaries and information on every applicant who have expressed an interest in our agency.  Make sure to carefully review them, and choose the client you think will have the best relationship.”  He finishes, giving you a lot to think of.  He can see the gears turn in your mind, and gives you time.  “Please, don’t feel like you have to respond today. Or, if you try this out and don’t like it, you can leave the agency or specific clients, with no fear of repercussions.”  He Pulls away from the table, and turns towards the door, before pausing.

He seems to change his mind, shaking his head as Suzy gets the door for him.

“I look forward to seeing you again, regardless of your decision, mon amie.  I’ll let Suzy handle the rest for today, thank you.  If you decide to accept, just call Suzy and ask her to see some client applications to pick out who you’d like to work with. Au revoir.”  And with that, Mr. Polnareff disappears with surprising speed.  Any other questions and details are handled by Suzy, who cheerfully tells you about the position, average salaries, tax information, and your typical FAQ.  You listen mutely, occasionally nodding along,  but you’re still thinking about everything Polnareff told you.  You could not only support yourself with this  job, but make a killing, while still being safe and having a say in the relationships.  This could work. This could work…

Less than 24 hours later, Suzy gets another phone call at the office.  “Silver Chariot Agency, this is Suzy, how may I assist you today?”  She asks cheerily.  A familiar voice whispers on the other end, “Do you think I could see some of those client Applications, please?”

[giorno-plays-piano]

Tainted Apollo

Pairing: Kars x Reader

Warnings: mentions of gore, death of minor characters, slight allusion to dubcon.

Words: 3056.

Summary: Finding a peculiar sculpture in the ruins of an ancient temple, you realize you have stumbled upon a god set in stone.

P.S. I forgot to post this one here haha

____________

"Good morning, Sire." You welcomed him as you stretched in your improvised bed, an old metal container of some kind with a pile of blankets on top of it.

Rubbing your sleepy eyes, you slowly put your feet on the floor and adjusted the hem of your nightgown so he wouldn't see too much of your flesh. Kars always found this habit of yours ridiculous. He had been a piece of stone for God knew how long, and even after you found him he'd been confined to bed for no less than a year, barely moving and unable to speak. Kars was sure you didn't even understand what he was, but you still cared about covering your body in front of him. What a pathetic habit, he thought.

When you found him in the sands, somewhere in what appeared to be a long abandoned temple that had been in ruins even before he reached the Earth, you first thought he was some kind of sculpture, adoring his unusual but captivating form. He hated you watching him with your eyes wide, even touching a lock of his petrified hair - you were just a mortal human woman, one of those he had been determined to wipe out, but you had the audacity to act like his sole purpose was to lay in the sand for your entertainment. If he could move, he would definitely end your pathetic like there and then. But Kars couldn't.

It must have been ages, if not a millennium, since he had been banished from Earth. Drifting through darkness, his body had turned to stone, his limbs losing their ability to move - regardless of him finally becoming an ultimate form of life, it brought him nothing but eternal suffering and oblivion. Kars had stopped functioning like a living being almost completely. Almost. If he hadn't been returned back to Earth by some accident, he would continue his meaningless journey to the stars till the end of times because the darkness enveloping him had no limits. It felt like being thrown into a cold throat of some gigantic monstrous creature, but instead of reaching its stomach and finally dying he had been forced to circulate somewhere in between, neither dead nor alive. If silly humans thought the Hell was real, it had to be it.

He couldn't remember what force sent him back to Earth as he could think of no one doing it intentionally, but it didn't matter as long as he could reach Earth. Regardless of what would happen after, Kars knew he would survive and regain his power, finally giving humanity what it deserved for what they had done to him.

Funny, but when his mind had awoken from hibernation, Kars realized there was no one to take revenge on. Humanity had successfully wiped itself out.

Even after year and a half that passed, he still saw just you, a girl who had brought his petrified form to her home to take care of him knowing he was alive - by the time you met him Kars was able to open his eyes. Oh, he remembered well how horrified you were, stumbling upon an immensely beautiful statue that turned out to be a stone god, he heard you saying that for a few times. That day you ran away with such an expression Kars didn't expect you to ever come back, although you showed up a couple of days after, trying to talk to him in that odd new human language he had never heard before. As he kept silent, unable to even move his lips and make a sound, you realized the god you stared upon had been trapped in stone, and you could do nothing to free him. You went away, but came back with an odd machine that reminded him of Stroheim, and Kars thought of melting your bones when you dared to use to transport him. However, he had to admit how further did human technology evolved when even a small and timidly-looking machine like yours could lift and transport him to your home, a place inside another machine that had been definitely used for military purposes before being abandoned. It looked incredibly pathetic, as if you were a little rat that had to live in a pile of garbage out of pure need.

The world he once knew and wished to conquer had disappeared. All he saw while being driven away by your small machine had been a never-ending desert and ruins of other machines: he learnt lately those were enormous satellites, star ships, and other rusting remnants of an epoch that had been long gone. Watching gigantic sand stingrays crossing the desert as if it were a sea made him realize how far humans had gone - they had created monsters that were never meant to exist in the first place.

Of course, they paid for it. Judging from the stories you told him and what he observed himself, humanity had faced almost complete annihilation even without intervention of their outer space enemies, if there were any. The atomic war destroyed nearly everything humans had been creating since the beginning of their era. It affected even the natural course of life of every living being on Earth, forcing them to change and finally become a horrifying, mutilated, monstrous life form of something they had been once. Even the Moon had been gone, it's ugly half-destroyed form shining in the night sky and making it even more revolting. You had said something about unsuccessful colonization and the war over moon territories while Kars had to force himself to look down on the sand that was at least familiar to him.

Disgusting. He still had hard time believing how far humans had gone, destroying everything that existed long before they started ruling the planet. What would Jojo say now if he saw what a nightmare the world had become? Wasn't it better to let Kars wipe out the humanity before this had happened?

He had been fighting the urge to break your spine or melt your insides at least for a couple of months, blaming you for the crimes of your ancestors despite you obviously being too young to commit any of the atrocities that had happened. How come a human being had the audacity to survive in this post-Apocalyptic world while other life forms had mutated into monsters? When you were wiping any impurities off his cold stony skin, he was dreaming of the time when his body would come out of this odd hibernation period he couldn't control and then murder you in some rather painful way, prolonging your death till you felt all kinds of despair a human like you could. As he struggled to move even his fingers, he had finally decided not to harm an only being capable of taking care of him.

Each day you brought him to sunlight so he could observe what was outside of your pathetic shelter while you worked to grow anything in this lifeless place, several times a week departing to some place to fill the ugly rusted water tank, then watering your plants in a some kind of a nicely equipped greenhouse - funny, now you used it to protect the plants from the intense heat rather than trap it inside. Fruits and vegetables were what your diet was based on, including some synthetic supplements Kars refused to consume, disgusted by something made purely by humankind. Sometimes you would bring him fried meat, and while the thought of eating a mutilated animal had been revolting to him, Kars knew you could offer him nothing else. Even the meat you brought you offered only to him, rarely taking a piece for yourself: now it must have been a great privilege to consume meat. Besides, it truly sustained him better than fruits or vegetables, and he was dependent on what you were feeding him, slowly getting his strength back. After a year and a half he was now able to move his lips and fingertips, making you nearly ecstatic: it seemed you were doing everything right.

What did you think he was? A deity? A monster? A machine? Probably an immortal being who had existed long before the annihilation, that's what you said: you were talking to him from time to time either to pay your respects, tell him more about your world you thought he knew nothing about or voice what you were going to do right the next moment. One day as you brought several rectangular plates made with what looked like a blue metal to him, you read Kars about ancient Greek gods, wondering if he had been one of them - you saw him melting food with his skin, and for you it was the inherent symbol of his divinity. Kars had to give you some credit: you weren't as stupid he first thought you were. You weren't worshipping him as much as he deserved, but you probably did the best you could do, just a little desert rat having nothing but her plants and a decaying metal house.

"I won't come back till the sunset." You said once you finished washing your face and brushing your hair, tucking them under a faded scarf out of some light fabric and then reaching out to grab your mask. "I'll try being quick, Sire, but it's important I visit that place. If I'm lucky, I might bring something very useful to you."

Useful to him, huh? He would appreciate if you stopped humoring yourself: there was nothing useful you could bring him aside from a dozen people to devour. While he knew there were some people left on Earth still, he also knew you wouldn't master the strength to capture, less sacrifice them to him. Besides, Kars was still deciding whether it was worth devouring those creatures. While it certainly would make him return his powers faster, he could wait a couple of centuries - Kars doubted remaining humans could do something worse to Earth than what had already been done.

You didn't return after the sunset that day. It was the first time you hadn't keep your promise to him, and it made ill-tempered Kars bitter: oh, he would remember it and make sure you remembered it, too. He spent the night thinking what he was going to do to you, albeit not getting too violent in his thoughts. Something probably happened on your way, and you had to stop and spend the night in the desert before coming back.

The next day you didn't return either. He waited for you till the sunset but heard nothing but the sound of sand stingrays travelling to the other part of the desert. The complete silence troubled Kars more than he was able to admit: you had been somewhere around most of the time, taking to him or making some other irritating noise. While he found you just one more annoying creature inferior to him, your absence had a strange effect on Kars - it felt like something was crawling beneath his stony skin, making it harder to keep calm despite the fact the man had always been patient, unaffected by something so unworthy of his attention. However, your absence was a clear sign that something had happened, and it somehow bothered him.

Were you attacked by the monstrous creatures roaming the earth? Humans? Some other force he knew nothing about? Surely, it had something to do with the thing you attempted to bring, but you were vague about its nature, and Kars doubted it was really something decent. How come you had the audacity to risk your life when you were his one and only follower, sustaining and taking care of him while he was still in hibernation? Were you so unbearably stupid you decided you could leave him alone for long? Who had given you the right to bother Kars with your absence? It was inexcusable. The only reason why he didn't punish you was his petrified body, but he wouldn't stay in such state forever.

The lack of your presence was becoming more and more disturbing, and Kars questioned himself why did it matter. He had never needed someone's company - even though he had respect for both Esidisi and Wamuu, their closeness to him wasn't something essential. Not that your presence was either... and yet he found himself constantly thinking about the reasons why you were late. Although it irritated him, Kars decided that time he spent into space had its effects on his mind.

When you returned at last, the sun had already disappeared over the horizon. You were bleeding - he saw crimson stains on your face and your left arm, your faded scarf absent when you stormed inside your house, a small metal container in your hand as you flew to your stone god. Something had gone terribly wrong.

"I'm sorry, Apollo." You were running out of breath, but Kars heard you calling him by a Greek god's name. Was it the god of light? Your choice was rather peculiar. You were probably calling him like this in your mind since you brought those books home, but was afraid to voice your thoughts to him. "I wasn't as prepared I thought I was. The guards are still there even after all these years."

Leaving the container on the floor close to him, you took your bag and started your things there, searching for food and flasks. Somebody had been following you to your hideout.

"This is all I could find." You whispered, opening the container and taking out a small glass vial with a bright red liquid inside. "I can't tell how it will affect you, but I believe it would be of use to you, Apollo. Please, consume it."

You had carefully lifted the vial as if it were going to explode and then put it on his chest, awaiting for Kars to melt it onto his body. He had been suspicious about this, for some reason unable to detect what the liquid was as the vial seemed to block it, he consumed it, nonetheless - there was a chance it could speed up the end of his hibernation.

And it did. He felt the familiar heat, albeit Kars had never thought the stone could be turned into liquid, and yet it was it, something he had been chasing for so long once before becoming who Kars was now. How come it had been somewhere here all along? Was it fate to land here where it had all ended for him once? Kars had no answers. Not that it mattered now as his petrified body was rapidly recovering, his limbs finally able to move, his dark locks softening, the paralysis shattering while he stood up, showing you his perfect form in all its glory as you stared at him, either afraid or unable to move. He was the God you were waiting for, his large wings turning into flesh hands, a halo of light surrounding his perfectly proportioned, sculptured body and making you lose your eyesight for a couple of seconds. It happened so suddenly you were trembling on your knees in front of him, forgetting about those who had trailed you and the danger they could bring to your God and you, both fear and admiration engraved into your stare. Kars was much more than you had pictured him to be, undoubtedly.

As much as he enjoyed that look on your face, devouring your fragile figure with his eyes, he could feel his enemies breathing down his neck. Of course, all of them were unworthy of seeing his true power, but even someone as miserable as them would do for a quick warm up after centuries of hibernation: once several disgustingly looking men with scars and mutilated limbs showed up in your hideout, all of them Ripple users just like Jojo had been, Kars let out a laugh, watching them demanding both him and you to surrender. Worthless little creatures, they thought they could give orders to him, the most perfect form of life on Earth. He had slashed all of them the next moment, pools of their blood dirtying the floor and spreading further to metal walls: apparently, despite them still being able to use Ripple, their power had deteriorated greatly to the point they only posed a threat to a fellow human being, someone as frail and delicate as you.

Turning to face you still on your knees, he saw your wide eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks while you covered your mouth with your hands: was your God more terrifying than you had imagined him to be? Did you think he would forgive those who made a mistake of challenging him, the most powerful being the Earth had ever hold? Silly little girl, there were so many things you had to learn about him, the God you were destined to worship and love with your whole being.

"Stand up, woman." He said, watching you tremble and trying to wipe away your tears, not knowing what you had to say to the God you finally saw in all his glory. "I demand you to leave with me before the sun rises. Gather whatever belongings you need for a long journey, we will depart soon."

You bowed to him deeply, afraid to open your mouth and say something your God would consider inappropriate, and hurried to take your bag, quickly putting everything you considered important in it while Kars stepped closer to the pathetic beings, consuming what was left of them and feeling the power coursing through his body, filling him with warmth he had craved for so long. That little vial you brought was truly worthy of him, and Kars felt satisfied it was you who found him in the sands in the middle of nowhere. He would take you with him while he would try to resurrect the Earth as he remembered it, bringing the balance to it and watching it flourish once again.

"Apollo, I have taken everything." You whispered to him timidly, forgetting you were using that fictional name you gave him.

Kars chuckled, marching through your hideout flooded with blood of his enemies. If you needed to compare him to some stupid Greek god so desperately, you should have chosen Hades.

[buckyownsmylife]

Electric Feel - Tom Hiddleston smut

The one where Tom moved in to help you, but you end up helping each other.

Warnings: porn with a very unecessary and minimal plot, smut, dom!female, sub!Tom, masturbation (m), oral sex (f), mistress kink, brief mention of a stalker, actress!reader

Word count: 2k<

A/N: This is so small compared to everything @just-the-hiddles​ deserves, but it’s her birthday and I just couldn’t let it go by without a token of my gratitude, love and admiration! Happy birthday, Liz! I hope you know how much I care about you! ALSO: unedited for the moment because I just started and finished this entire thing in the last six hours when I should be studying but oh well.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I didn’t remember stopping to think for a single second ever since I saw the news. My fingers acted on their own accord, hitting those numbers I had memorized so long ago, raising the phone to my ear as I waited for her to pick up.

“Hello?” Hearing her voice didn’t calm me down like I expected it would. I realized then, I’d only feel tranquil once more when I could see her with my own eyes, touch her skin, feel her warmth.

“Darling? How are you?” I still asked, almost automatically, and if I had hoped she would at least be well enough to pretend to be okay, the sharp inhale that preceded her burst into tears shattered that illusion in a second. “I’m on my way.”

And that was how I ended up in her house in what felt like the blink of an eye. The trip there could have lasted days - all that mattered was that the second I had my arms wrapped around her, everything felt alright again.

“It’s okay,” I soothed her, but it was probably better directed at myself. “I’m here now.” It took at least a day before I was comfortable enough to ask her about it. “How did they find the guy?” When she latched onto a detailed explanation of the events from the last week, how she’d started receiving random death threats that suddenly weren’t so random anymore, I felt almost like I wasn’t even there, but floating over the living room, watching us talk from the outside looking in.

I held her close for a long time after that, unable to admit even to myself that not feeling her body against mine made me feel empty and weak. And so the feeling of protectiveness stirred awake inside of me - or maybe it had been there all along, I just failed to acknowledge it.

All I knew was that inserting myself into Y/N’s daily life was much easier than I ever expected it to be. And even if I told both her and myself that this was for her own safety, because she needed someone around until she felt comfortable by herself again, I knew it was more for my own benefit than anything else.

I just didn’t anticipate it would make my feelings that much harder to deal with. Did I know that I wanted her? Yes, maybe even ever since we’d met. And as our friendship progressed and we became closer, I saw that desire develop into something deeper, more solid. Still, I stupidly believed it was nothing more than a crush, and I’d be able to pretend it didn’t exist and get on with my life day after day like it wasn’t there.

Now that my days began and ended with her, I was highly aware of my mistake.

“Tommy,” she called out, making me lift my eyes from the tv and fall on her and the dog she currently tried to control. “I’m going to take her for a walk, okay?” I sat up automatically, ready to join her, when I felt a hand over my shoulder, gently pushing me back against the sofa.

“C’mon, finish the movie!” She admonished, a knowing grin on her face. “I think there’s a scene coming up with someone you particularly enjoy. I’m just going into the backyard, no need to worry.”

Even though I stayed seated where she’d left me, my eyes trailed over her figure as she disappeared inside the kitchen, until I heard the backdoor close. Despite knowing there was no possible immediate danger to her inside the boundaries of her own home, I couldn’t help but worry.

That was until a moan caught my attention, bringing it back to the tv once more. It sounded so familiar and so foreign at the same time, I was instantly intrigued, eyebrows furrowed as I struggled to identify the young woman that was being so brutally fucked by the main protagonist in a dark club.

My mouth hang open once the lighting changed and her face became recognizable, those same alluring features tempting me just as much as they tempted the character on the screen. So this was what she meant, I didn’t even know she was on this movie when I first picked it out. 

I could feel my member hardening inside my sweatpants as her beautiful, melodic voice kept tempting me, and I grit my teeth as I chanced a glance at the kitchen, wondering how long I had before she was back. Not enough, I knew that. Still, looking down at my crotch made me believe it was worth at least a try, because the alternative was her surely seeing just how affected her little scene had made me.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The silence in the living room was my first indication that something was different, and as I stepped foot in the place where I’d left Tom not even five minutes ago, I realized my intuition was right - he’d abandoned the movie and left me alone in the main floor of the house.

Maybe he wanted to take a shower, or answer a call? I didn’t know, but I figured I should let him know I was back before he got worried, so I climbed up the stairs two at a time before stopping in front of the guest room he’d been staying in, suddenly frozen by what I heard.

“Y/N…” It was my name, breathed out in a whiney, raspy moan that left me no doubt over what was happening behind the door I now clutched so tightly. My mind drifted back to the movie we’d been watching, the scene I knew he’d see. Had I been the cause for his arousal?

My body acted of its own accord, the week of emotional tension before he arrived, replaced by the sexual energy that was always present whenever he was around finally getting the best of me. 

I opened the door. His hand was curled around a large member, the sight of which had me whimpering as I clenched my thighs together, alerting me of my entrance. His eyes, which were closed, immediately widened upon seeing me, and he tried to cover his erection with both hands, even if it was obviously not possible to do so. 

“Why are you shy?” I asked, head tilted as I analyzed the man before me, my mouth watering at the sight. I was desperate to give in to this desire, let go of the fears and anxieties that had been clawing at me ever since the first message arrived, and so I climbed on the bed like he was my prey, determined to make him crack and admit his own attraction to me.

“You called my name,” I noticed once I was on his lap, eyes taking inventory of every inch of pretty skin I couldn’t wait to bruise. “Don’t you want me?” At the sound of the insecurity in my voice, he jolted, eager to show that there wasn’t a reason for there to be any.

“Of course I do.” Smiling, I hummed appreciatively as I licked my lips, eyes darting down and seeing that he still hadn’t resumed his movements on his cock, even though it clearly needed some attention.

“Then why don’t you touch yourself while I suck little lovebites all over you huh?” Finally, I enveloped his pink lips with mine, eager to taste them, touch his tongue with mine. But I needed to see him cum way too badly, and I craved the control I knew I could exercise with him.

So I forced myself to pull away, laying kisses down his jaw until I reached his neck, starting to bite and suck there at the sound of his whines. Below us, I noticed he had started jerking off again, although hesitantly, and so I covered his hand with mine and forced him to get back to his previous pace.

“Show me how much you desired me,” I ordered, as he instantly fought back, “Kiss me again.” It was such a sweet request, and particularly in the breathless tone he tried to make petulant, it made me even more excited to play with the man I had wanted for so long. 

“But do you really deserve another kiss?” I taunted, pressing them on his chest, on his biceps, anywhere other than his lips. He was breathing through his mouth now, long deep sighs being interjected by his moans and whines, and it all went straight to my panties. 

“Yes,” he insisted, hand tightening around himself and a delicious blush spreading over his chest as I sat back on by heels to judge the hauntingly tempting image before me. He bit his lower lips in an effort to hold back his own sounds, but as I got rid of my clothes, his efforts proved fruitless, and a wanting cry escaped his throat as I forced him to quicken his movements once more.

“Oh, I see…” I wasn’t done teasing him, not by a long shot. “You’ve wanted me all along, haven’t you?” All he could do was nod, and I could see the underlying shyness in his reluctance to admit it. 

“Well, I’ve wanted you too, baby. And right now, I want to suck you off until my jaw is sore, how does that sound like?” Another moan was all I got as a response, making me smile wider than I’d ever done before.

“But I don’t think you’ve earned it yet. So for now, all I’ll let you do is keep touching yourself while you suck on my tits, how about that?” His eyelids were heavy when he looked at me, having to throw his head back to be able to meet my eyes.

“Fuck… It’s… perfect.” I cooed at how wrecked he looked like, even with how little I’d touched him, my navel brushing his member briefly as we adjusted ourselves so he could wrap his lips around my nipple.

“Oh…” I gasped in delight as tingles raised up my spine at the pleasant sensation, and between us, I could feel his movements growing more desperate as my moans replaced his in the otherwise silent bedroom.

When I felt him spill all over my stomach, I pulled him away from my chest by my grip on his locks, finally giving him what he wanted and capturing his lips with mine once more. “Hmm…” I moaned once we parted and I’d scooped some of his release to give it a taste. “So sweet.”

Tom was looking at me like I was some sort of extraterrestrial being, chest visibly heaving in his effort to keep breathing. “Can I taste you know?” He at last managed to ask, and I pretended to think, before gently nudging him out of the bed and onto the floor. 

“Yes,” I approved, wrapping his curls around my fingers again before bringing him down to the apex of my thighs, moaning as his tongue eagerly plunged inside of me, eager to get acquainted with the most intimate part of my body. “Who would have known you could be such a submissive little thing, huh?”

When he raised his head to answer, just the sight of my wetness dripping from the lower part of his face had my heart skipping a beat. “You should have known… A single word from you and I’d drop to my knees and worship you like you deserve… Mistress.”

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Five: War

Author's note: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: just a smidge of angst, talking about feelings and a slightly steamy moment to look forward too.

Word count: 5,200>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Five - Next 

When you returned back to Max’s home, the sky was pitch black. Max fumbled opening the front door, grunting in frustration when he couldn’t get the key in the hole because it was so dark. When the door finally swung open, he sauntered inside without saying a single word. You hovered behind him, following him around his home like a lost puppy. He strolled into the living room, walked over to the mini bar, and poured himself out a glass of honeyed whiskey. He contemplated taking the whole bottle upstairs to his office and using the alcohol to drown his sorrows away. The silence made him forget he had a guest. “Can I get you a drink?” he muttered, not even looking at you. His thumb grazed the expensive liquor label.

“I’m okay,” you denied quietly. Maxwell didn’t say a word, but he took a swing out the small crystalled tumbler. His eyes were still glossy from his tears and his blonde wavy hair poking up in random places. He was practically unrecognisable from the television infomercials, although you deemed it inappropriate to bring up his appearance right now. To you, he was still so handsome. You waited for him to say something, but a few minutes had passed and not a single word had escaped his soft lips. “Max, I think we need to talk.”

You had a lot of questions, and he had a lot to ask you. Maxwell poured out another glass of whiskey before turning around and leaning against the bar. “Yeah, I agree. Why did you read the letter?” He asked first through a shaky exhale. Clearly it had been preying on his mind. Inside that letter was information he wanted nobody to see. He didn’t even want to see it himself. But you… he actually cared about what you thought of him. He feared your judgement more than anything else.

“You’d really hurt yourself and I could see you were very angry. When I saw the letter crumpled up on the floor, I thought it might have something to do with it and I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” You explained your genuine concern, even noticing the way Maxwell’s face softened at your confession. Despite the fact you had invaded his privacy, he just couldn’t bring himself to stay mad at you. “I knew I was looking for a man named Lorenzano. If the letter hadn’t told me you were Lorenzano then I would never have gone to Thomas Family Lawyer’s.”

“I find it difficult to believe that you were worried about me,” Maxwell scoffed incredulously, rolling his eyes and taking yet another swing of his drink. The warmth your words had brought him were short lived and he was immediately engulfed in a cold, unwelcome chill. 

“I was,” you reiterated. “I care about you a lot. You- you’re my friend. You gave me a home and you believed me when I told you about Themyscira and the God’s. Max… can I ask… why did you believe me?”

Maxwell hesitated for a few seconds, anxiously picking at his already short fingernails. He could lie. He could tell you that he only believed you when you demonstrated the lasso of Hestia on him, and that would be enough. But there was no time to be deceitful, not anymore. You’d been honest with him from the very beginning, and he owed his honesty to you too. For the sake of Alistair, he needed to be truthful. For the very first time, Maxwell was going to open up about what happened on the island when he made a broadcast to the entire world.

“Part of me already believed you when I saw you in the lobby of Black Gold for the first time. You were asleep on the sofa, covered in mud, in that crazy Amazonian costume thing…” he gestured to your tunic and skirt which was still discarded on the floor from when you had undressed earlier. He chuckled lightly at the memory of you. You were so beautiful and peaceful. He thought that when you awoke, it would be revealed to him that you were there to hurt him - just like everyone else in the world. “There was just something about you. When I saw you for the first time I just felt… I just felt like…” Max was struggling to get his words out. He couldn’t describe the feeling. For the first time, the well articulated and extroverted businessman was at a loss for words. All he knew was that every second he spent with you, this strange feeling grew stronger and stronger. “I just knew I could trust you,” he shrugged helplessly. That part was true at least. “It sounds dumb, I know. You’re a stranger. But I’m not a very trusting man in the first place, so feeling this was kind of a big deal. And then you mentioned Diana,” Bewilderment crossed your face as you wondered what exactly Diana had to do with any of this. “I knew a woman called Diana Prince. Worked at the Smithsonian museum,” Maxwell took a deep breath before saying your name. He took both of your hands and sat you down on the sofa. “I need to confess something.”

“What is it?” you asked with concern. You brushed your fingers over his knuckles and he relished the way your simple touches erupted a frenzy of butterflies in his stomach.

“I did a bad thing,” Maxwell told you, fear in his eyes. “And I’m still confused and… afraid. Look, I actually care about what you think of me so please-”

You placed a chaste kiss over Maxwell’s knuckles and Max swore his heart stopped beating. Your lips felt just as soft as they looked… just as soft as he’d imagined earlier in the shower. You didn’t know why you kissed his hands… you just felt like it. And it felt good. And you hoped that maybe one day you could do it again. Your eyes flicked up to meet his own. “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. I’m here to help you Max. I won’t judge you.” you promised.

“Okay,” he said with a deep sigh. “My company… I’ve worked my whole life building up Black Gold Cooperative. I really just wanted to do something great. Growing up, I never really had an idol or someone to look up to. And when Alistair was born, I wanted to give him the world. Anything he wanted. Because he was my son and most of all I just wanted him to be proud of his father. I was led along the wrong path by a few businessmen who were trying to sell off their investments in oilfields for cheap. So I bought them. Turns out, the oilfields were completely dried out and they weren’t going to earn any money whatsoever. I looked at the data and nothing suggested that was going to change but I couldn’t bear to give up. I didn’t want to look like a failure in front of Alistair… in front of my wife,” he croaked out, rubbing his temples as the stress consumed him. “So, I clung on to hope. And I never let go even when I probably should have. I led the world on with my infomercials, telling people that if they invested in us they’d own a part of the most lucrative oil industry in the world. And as share prices rocketed up, they’d eventually earn more than what they put in. That was the plan from day one. But the cold war meant that-”

“-Max,” you cut him off with a gentle whisper. “You’re putting yourself down for having hope. You shouldn’t- you shouldn’t do that. Having hope is the most important thing in the world.”

“I was deceitful,” Maxwell grumbled, shaking off your comment. “I found this stone that supposedly possessed magical powers. I’m a realist, I couldn’t believe it but I had to see for myself. It dated all the way back to ancient Rome… was a beautiful citrine. After a heist in the mall it was stolen and… let's just say I got my hands on the stone by means I’m not at all proud of. The stone possessed wish granting powers and I-”

Maxwell was rambling but at this point, he didn’t need to give you any more information. You already knew. Everything was making sense. From your dreams and your visions and now this.

“No.” was the only word you managed to breathe out. You shook your head profusely as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. It couldn’t be. You remembered your mother telling you that one of the stones was magically destroyed and no one knew how or why. But if Maxwell had wished to become the stone... “No no no… you didn’t, did you?”

Maxwell swallowed as he immediately sensed your disappointment in him. He nodded in silence, unable to say any more words. He felt nauseated. It was already so difficult to live with - the fact he had spiralled into mania so fast. At his core, he was a lonely man who had nobody to guide him. He thought he was in control the entire time but the truth is, he had lost control. 

“Romulus possessed you,” you exhaled shakily, wiping your eyes. You let go off his hands and stood up, brushing yourself down. You nervously began to pace up and down the area of the living room. Maxwell closed his eyes, unable to let himself even look at you. He figured you were so disgusted in what he had done, you couldn’t even touch him anymore. 

“Who?” Max questioned you eventually. He wanted the answers too.

“The God of Lies, Max!” you snapped back, not even realising how you’d raised your own voice but you were so stressed and paranoid. “Oh goodness… what if he’s still in you. What if-”

“I renounced my wish.” Maxwell informed you with not an ounce of emotion in his voice. He felt empty. Your head snapped to face him once more and your face softened at his revelation. You wanted to hold Max, cradle him in your arms and promise him that everything would be okay. That you’d be able to figure all this out together. But there was still so much you needed to know.

“Why?” you gasped in defeat, letting your shoulders slump.

“Diana.” Maxwell shrugged weakly, fumbling with the sleeves of his sweater.

“No,” you shook your head. “Why did you wish in the first place?”

“I was so afraid of Alistair thinking I’m a loser. Sometimes it’s so easy to believe the whole world is against me. I just wanted him to love me the way I love him.”

“Alistair has always loved you, Maxwell.” you told the teary eyed man, grabbing his arm and squeezing it. Max’s breathing hitched under your touch and he spent a few moments contemplating your words. No person had ever shown him such unconditional kindness. People were either intimidated by him, or enemies with him. No one had ever even wanted to be his friend. Even his relationship with Julianna was a whirlwind fueled on lust and her desire for his money. That’s why as soon as the oil fields dried up, the marriage broke down, and she’d gone on to find someone else with money - Theodore.

“Julianna messed with me, a lot. Told me that Alistair cared more for Ted than me, that I was nothing but a low-life. Since I found out Julianna was pregnant I was filled with this fear. I wasn’t scared of becoming a father, I was scared of becoming my father,” Maxwell choked out, making a fist as anger consumed him. He tried not to hate, he really did, but he could never ever forgive his father’s actions. You watched as his lips trembled and he looked down at his feet. “The world almost collapsed and it was all my fault,” he shuffled his feet around uncomfortably. “And I’m filled with this gut wrenching guilt I just can’t escape…” He looked up at you and wiped his eyes furiously. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No,” you said, moving his hand away from his face and wiping his tears away with your own fingers. “You are a beautiful man,” you whispered, cupping Maxwell’s face and stroking the height of his cheekbones. You saw him flush a gentle pink colour. “And Alistair is so lucky to have a father who would do all of this… just for him. You are loved. You are loved way more than you know.” you assured, and Maxwell found himself subconsciously leaning into your touch. He was so pretty you could just kiss him again. Maybe this time on the lips.

“How- how can you not hate me?” he choked out, taking you out of your thoughts about kissing him. “Even I hate me. I’ve been thinking, maybe I’m not good enough to be a father.”

“I know how it feels,” you admitted hesitantly, biting your lip. You’d never spoken about this to anyone before. “My father is Zeus, king of all Gods. My mother is Hestia, the Goddess of Truth. I know how it feels to be put on a pedestal. To be compared to others and I know how it feels to not feel good enough. Not important. To have no purpose…” you trailed off. “I’ve spent my life searching for some significance. Zeus had many children, most of which were never able to satisfy their duty as a God or Goddess. But when I started to have these dreams… when I heard your voice I knew in my heart that you… you are my purpose.” you took a deep breath and smiled. “But Max… the dreamstone…”

“What is it?” Max urged you, his dark eyes flicking to yours. “If you can help me with Alistair, let me help you with this. Whatever you need, I can help you.”

“I- I don’t know if you can.” you confessed with a sigh.

“What is it?” Max repeated, staring into your eyes.

“My mother told me the story of two brothers, Romulus and Dolos, both the God of Lies. They were evil… destructive. They wanted to watch society collapse and build a new world. A world they could rule together,” you explained and Maxwell winced. Maybe you were right. Romulus had possessed him… because all of this was sounding far too familiar to him. “When the brothers left Olympus, Zeus gifted them with two citrine stones. The brother’s practiced their wish-granting powers on the stones. Romulus created Rome and Dolos created Athens. And now, only one stone remains.”

“Dolos’ stone remains,” Maxwell said his thoughts out loud and you nodded in affirmation. “Because it was Romulus’ stone which possessed me. So how do we destroy Dolos’ stone?”

“My mother… my mother told me only one thing can destroy the stone.” you whispered. Maxwell looked at you with an urge for you to continue. “Love.” you revealed.

There was a deafening silence that filled the room. “I-I don’t understand,” Maxwell swallowed. “It was the truth that pushed me to renounce my wish. Truth is the opposite of lies… your mother is the Goddess of Truth so maybe-”

“She told me love would destroy the stone,” you repeated, putting your foot down. “There’s no question about it. She’s my mother and I trust her.”

“Okay okay,” Maxwell soothed you. “I trust her  too. I just don’t understand how-”

“Me neither,” you exhaled, cutting him off. “But we’ll figure it out, right?”

“Right.” Max confirmed. “Are- are you tired?” 

“A little.” you admitted.

“There’s five empty bedrooms upstairs. Take your pick. Make yourself at home.” Maxwell smiled wearily and you nodded your head in appreciation. He was so friendly with you. So generous.

“Thank you Max,” you whispered. “You know. I think you’re a good person.”

Maxwell swallowed. You were so softly spoken and you looked so gorgeous under the dim amber lights. If you were any other woman in any other circumstance, he’d press you against the wall and promise you a night you’d never forget. But he couldn’t do this to you. You were so innocent- and he could risk hurting such a delicate soul. “I’m going to tidy up down here first but uh- I’ll come say goodnight in a few minutes.”

You left the room and Maxwell stood alone for a few moments. As he tried to tidy up the mini bar, every single one of his thoughts were consumed by your beauty, your kindness… just you. And that’s when it hit him. Had he fallen in love with a goddess?

There was so much he didn't know about you— but if he could, he'd spend every waking moment with you, asking you questions about Themyscira and your family. He wanted to know what it was like over there, and if he could visit. He wanted to meet Hestia. He couldn't help but smile to himself. You were literally the daughter of Zeus— and you were in his home. If you had came into his life a week ago, he would've idolized you for your power, but now it was different. He genuinely liked you and wanted to be around you. It was crazy. 

You walked down the long, wide corridor, not really caring too much about which bedroom you select. You had more important things on your mind— such as how you were going to find the dreamstone, and how you were going to destroy it. Maybe it didn't make sense right now, but you could only hope that the pieces of the puzzle would begin to fall into place sooner rather than later. The bedroom you had settled in was large, with an en-suite bathroom and a walk in closet. It was magnificent, but then again, it seemed as though every room in Maxwell Lord's home struck you with awe. The bed was enormous too, much bigger than the single one you had back on Themyscira. You wondered to yourself what the point was in having such an extensive sized bed, but you struck it down to comfort over anything else. And it certainly was comfortable. You kicked off your gladiator sandals and sat on the white sheets, sighing as the soft material silked around your bare legs. It was wonderful.

Taking the photograph from earlier out of your shirt pocket, you held it delicately between your fingers. Maxwell Lord, with dark brown hair and a smile that could break hearts, holding little baby Alistair. Every time you looked at the photo your heart felt like it was melting, but in the best way possible. You could practically feel the love radiating from the father and son.

You placed the photograph carefully on the nightstand and unbuttoned the pinstripe shirt that Max had loaned you. Folding it up, you placed it in his closet amongst his other clothes, deciding that's where it belonged. You climbed under the sheets, tangling your naked body amongst the blankets. It felt amazing. Your surroundings might have been unfamiliar, but you had never felt more at home.

Just then, the main light switched on, illuminating the whole bedroom. Max gasped when he saw you lying in his bed. "Oh- oh shit, hey!" he exclaimed awkwardly, his eyebrows raising. His expression was almost animatronic as he saw your shoulders and the top of your bare chest peek out from underneath the duvet. "So, you found a bedroom! Uh- that's good."

"Is everything okay?" you asked, sitting upwards and propping yourself against a pillow. "Is it because I'm naked?"

"No- I mean yes! I mean no! Everything is fine. And, I know you said you were used to sleeping naked before so, it's okay. I promise. I just- you see- this is actually my bedroom. And that's my bed. So…"

"Oh." you nodded slowly, feeling slightly embarrassed. It usually took a lot for Max Lord to get flustered the way he was, and that scared him.

"No! I mean, there's no way you could have known. It's fine. You can sleep here tonight. I'll take one of the other rooms." Maxwell smiled, reaching over to the light switch to turn it off again. "Good night."

"Max wait-" you called before he could leave. He looked at you but said nothing. "Do you think that you could stay with me tonight?" you asked hesitantly, shuffling around the blankets. "It's just… when I'm with you, I feel… safe."

Maxwell struggled to find words, so instead, he just nodded, and sat next to you on the edge of the bed. "When I'm with you I feel safe too," he confessed with a gulp and you smiled. "Although that's probably because you're some superhuman goddess. I suppose I also feel quite intimidated by you." he shrugged, a nervous blush flushing his cheeks.

Your gaze snapped to face him and you tilted your head in bewilderment. "Intimidated? You are intimidated by me?" you asked. "Why would you- why-? I don't understand. I mean, look at me." you scoffed incredulously, gesturing down to your body that was hidden by the thin white material of Maxwell's duvet.

"I am." he exhaled, his eyes not leaving yours once.

And there were the butterflies again. The feeling you just couldn't shake. Everyone he looked you in the eye… every time his voice got low and soft it just made you feel… you couldn't even put it into words. Maxwell rubbed his feet awkwardly along the carpet.

"You can come under the blankets with me?" you suggested after a brief silence. You pulled the duvet open and gestured for him to lay next to you.

"Oh I don't know," he shuffled around. "Here, in the world of man, people only really lay together if they're… well, together." Max explained.

"Aren't we together?" you shrugged your shoulders.

"Mm, not like that," Maxwell pursed his lips together. He wanted to lay with you— he really did, but he didn't want you to get the wrong idea. "People only lay together if they're… in love."

"Were you in love with Julianna?" you asked a little too quickly. Maxwell finally broke his gaze from you. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that." you tried to retract but Maxwell shushed you.

"No, it's okay. The truth is… I don't know. I thought I was in love with her but… I'm not sure anymore." Maxwell sighed, running a finger through his hair. He wasn't sure because now he was having feelings for you and these feelings weren't anything like he had ever felt before.

"But you shared a bed with her?" you quizzed.

"Well, yeah. We were married."

"Have you shared a bed with anyone who you weren't married to?" you beckoned further.

Maxwell paused. "Of course."

"So please," you hummed, smoothing out the bed sheets. "Lay with me." 

Maxwell smiled before taking off his shoes and climbing in next to you. "Have- have you ever shared a bed with a man before?" Maxwell asked, swallowing the hard lump in his throat. Just the thought of you being with another man made his head spin.

"No," you said quietly. "There are no men on Themyscira." you reminded him.

"Oh right yeah." Maxwell nodded understandingly.

You snuggled up close to him and laid your head on his chest. "You're warm," you mumbled happily. "It's nice."

Maxwell stretched out his arm and wrapped it around you. You and him were cuddling in bed. He wanted it to mean something, he really did, but he couldn't help but feel like it was platonic on your end. You smelled so amazing. And your body fit into his like a puzzle piece that had been missing his whole life. He could stay in this moment forever. And you were also more than content. Maxwell was broad, and his arms were strong. You felt safe laying with him, you felt like he could protect you from any danger. You trusted him. And he trusted you.

"So, am I the first man you met?" Maxwell asked you, clearing his throat.

"You are," you confirmed. You pulled the photograph of Maxwell and Alistair from the nightstand and showed it to your friend. "I found this earlier today. I like it a lot."

"Oh yeah, that was the day Alistair was born," Maxwell smiled. "I was happy that day."

"You're so lucky to be a father. I've always wanted children." you confessed, biting your lip.

"Well maybe one day you can have some of your own." Maxwell murmured, smoothing out your hair.

"I doubt it. Amazons can't bear children. Although, I suppose I could."

"What makes you different from the other Amazons?" Max beckoned.

"A lot, actually. They're all warrior queens. Fighters. But Zeus blessed me with the ability to carry children if I were to become a mortal, because I'm the Goddess of Home and Hearth. I reunite families. I'm maternal at heart. That's why he granted me that blessing, I suppose." you explained, trying your hardest to recall the words your mother had spoken to you when you were just a little girl.

"Only if you become a mortal? How would you even do that?" Maxwell anxiously slid his hand into yours, and his heart filled with joy when you intertwined your fingers with his.

"If I exposed my true self in front of a large crowd of people then I could no longer be a goddess. Zeus would take away my powers and I'd never be able to return to Themyscira. I'd be normal, just like you." 

He wanted to laugh. There was nothing about Max Lord that could be considered ‘normal’— but he opted to let your comment slide. He knew what you meant anyway. "Would you consider giving up your powers and becoming a mortal?" 

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I would do it for love." you turned to face Maxwell, to look him in the eyes, but he was already looking at you— memorising your beautiful face. Everything about you was so perfect.

"Love." he repeated, validating to himself that he was indeed listening and not completely entranced by your beauty. His voice had dropped an octave and was no louder than a mere whisper. His eyes flicked down to your lips and he had never felt an urge so strong in his life to just kiss you. He remembered how soft your lips were earlier in the night when they'd gently brushed over his knuckles.

And now, you were looking at his lips too. They were pink and plush and— you'd never even kissed anyone before, let alone a man who was attractive as Maxwell Lord. From what you had learned about him, he was already so esteemed and had probably kissed dozens of girls in his lifetime. You on the other hand, were quite inexperienced. But that didn't mean you didn't want to learn.

You could hear his beating heart as you felt his chest rise and fall. He made sure that no piece of stray hair was in your face. He wanted to take in every detail. With a sudden air of confidence, Maxwell leaned in and nudged his nose against yours. Naturally, your eyes fluttered shut as his warm breath fanned over your skin. His hand dropped down to your waist and he gave your hip a gentle squeeze under the covers as he tilted his head and pressed his lips against yours.

It was magical. His lips moved perfectly against yours, like they were made for each other. Max closed his eyes and pressed his face further into yours, even using his tongue to teasingly lick a stripe over your lower lip. You felt your cheeks flush as an involuntary moan escaped your lips. As your mouth parted, Maxwell seized the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth… and it felt delightful. You wrapped a leg around his and tangled your fingers in his hair as he kissed you. You prayed that this moment would never end. His lips were sweet and you imagined they tasted vaguely of the honeyed whiskey he had been drinking earlier. His hand glided down to your thigh and you eventually pulled away from him with a gasp. He removed his hand from you.

"Too much?" he asked breathlessly, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your swollen lips.

You moved his hand back to its position on your thigh. "No- no," you whispered, shaking your head but unable to contain your smile. "It's just, I've never done anything like this before. I've never been kissed like this… or even touched… I've never even… you know."

"It's okay," Maxwell whispered, cupping your face. "We don't have to do anything you want to do."

"I want this." you confirmed, pulling your body on top of his and straddling him. Maxwell felt his cock twitch in his pants as you accidentally grinded over him, leaning in and reattaching your lips. The blanket was still draped over your shoulders but fuck, you were naked. You were naked and on top of him and you were kissing him. Maxwell was still practically fully clothed and he didn't want to remove the blanket from you but he did contemplate taking his own sweater off.

"You feel so good on top of me like this," he muttered against your lips. "Can I touch you?"

You hummed in response and grinded your hips over him again. "Please."

Maxwell brought his hands down to your breasts and began to fondle with them as you kissed him. You moaned and giggled as his thumb grazed over your puckered nipples, squeezing them gently now and again.

The make-out session must have lasted a good half an hour, and Maxwell swore it was the best he'd ever had. If he wasn't sure about his feelings before, this was only confirmation. He'd grown deeply in love with you.

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[themoonandotherslikeit]

Painted - Chapter One

“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Y/N has moved on, her scars are barely noticeable anymore, and she’s finally stable. Or at least she was.

10 years after the worst day of her life, Y/N found herself staring face to face with an unimaginable horror. In the wake of her worst nightmare come to life, she finds herself reunited with the man that saved her all those years ago - Agent Dean Winchester who had left her a decade before broken and wanting.

Dean Winchester has spent the last 10 years trying desperately to forget Y/N and the tragedy that he pulled her out of, but when she called asking for his help he dropped everything to come to her aid as he knew he always would.

Can Y/N and Dean solve the mystery that has resurfaced after all this time? Will they be able to resist the pull between them? Or will this be the final brush strokes on a canvas, sealing their fate for good?

No Beta currently, all mistakes are my own!

Pairing: Dean/Reader

Tags: Dark!Fic, Agent!Dean, Serial Killer Fic, Smut etc.

Chapter One

Everything has a color. To Y/N, violence was red. She pulled back her arm, her fist colliding with the heft of her punching bag with a soft thud . One, two, kick. She liked training alone, it centered her, cleared her mind. She didn’t have to worry about pulling her punches, avoiding the knees when she kicked. The biggest danger was the skin on her knuckles, which were expertly wrapped.

It all started as self defense, a way to ease her mind as she walked back to her Jeep on the dark nights, but it had evolved to something else altogether. She didn’t fight because she was afraid, she fought because she was pissed . She was pissed that she had to learn to defend herself; that other women did. She taught classes so that her community would be safe, so that they’d find less women abandoned in ditches beaten to death.

But when she was alone, it was something else completely. The why of the thing was a mystery most of the time, even to her. People used to ask her if she was afraid she would see him again. She wasn't, not really. But she kept fighting anyway, and she would be lying if his face wasn’t the one she pictured every time her fist collided with the bag.

The beat of her music throbbed in her ears like an angry heartbeat as she went for an uppercut that rattled the bag. She was panting, sweat rolling down her temple. Each hit was a beat of her heart, causing the bag to come alive. With each swing she made, it swung back at her. She was strong, and she wasn’t holding back. One, two, kick.

Her watch chimed to alert her that she hit her workout goal for the day, but she had more fire within her that needed to be extinguished. It was a long workout, even for her, but she had a lot on her mind. If she was thinking about the ache of her knuckles and burning in her biceps, she was less likely to obsess over the things she couldn’t control. So she hit the bag again and again.

The sun was starting to speckle through the blinds on the storefront window, making the sweat on her arms glisten like diamonds. She considered, just for a moment, how the coast would look against the purples and oranges of the sunrise. She could have a coffee and just enjoy the silence. Or she could keep fighting. That answer was easy. She didn’t have time to appreciate the beauty in life. She hadn’t for a long time. All of the colors had lost their brightness, the depth that he used to talk about so frequently. The thing that kept him mixing until it was just right.

She hadn’t thought of him in so long, so when the thought came to her, she didn’t react fast enough to the bag swinging back toward her from her last hit. It collided directly with her face, sending her backwards onto the mat. A loud, painful crack echoed through her skull as her nose collided with the bag. She laid there for a moment, groaning. She tried to sit up, her nose throbbing and her mouth filling with blood from the hit. “Fuck me,” she whispered to no one in particular.

Trauma was black. According to her therapist, there were different types of trauma. Y/N learned that they all could be sorted into one of three main categories: acute trauma that results from a single incident, chronic trauma that is repeated and prolonged such as domestic violence or abuse, and complex trauma which is exposure to varied and multiple traumatic events, often of an invasive, interpersonal nature. More so, there was capital T trauma and what she called little t trauma . Capital T was the big stuff, the stuff that wrecks a person in an irreparable way. Little t was less so. It is possible for a traumatized person to get over a little t trauma.

In Y/N’s life she’d seen her fair share of trauma. Probably more than a thirty-three year old woman should’ve. She’d seen trauma happen to others, happen to herself, and continue to happen in case after case that she worked. She saw trauma that others didn’t. The kind of trauma that couldn’t be seen from the outside. The kind of trauma that a person inflicts upon themselves.

She was always told that trauma healed over time, like a bruise, but for her, trauma was a cut that kept reopening. It was a scab that she couldn’t stop picking at, a bruise that seemed to deepen to a darker purple before it ever yellowed. Her eyes stung from the hit, and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

The only way she knew how to heal was to move on, leave the trauma behind. Her therapist told her to imagine herself placing the memories in a box and locking them away. Sometimes, when she was alone, she could hear that box screaming, banging, and begging to be opened. She resisted the urge, especially today.

She forced herself to stand, her head spinning. She leaned against the wall to regain her balance before she walked out to her car, her head tilted back. She could feel the blood roll down the back of her throat since it was unable to escape her nostril. She’d be pissed if she broke her nose, but, from what she could tell, it seemed intact even though it hurt like a bitch.

Her headphones were askew, but still playing her workout mix. She adjusted them and spit some blood from her mouth. She wouldn’t be thwarted by a fall; no, she wouldn’t be taken down so easily. If she fell in the gym and no one was there to witness her humiliation, did she even fall? The answer to that depended on if anyone would notice her bruised nose after the fact. If they didn’t, as far as she was concerned, she had a perfect refreshing work out with no issues whatsoever. Maybe with enough makeup her secret would remain her own.

10 years earlier

The sound of his paintbrush swiping delicately against canvas was soothing to Y/N. She sat on the edge of the bed, atop black satin sheets, resting on her hands, her back arched and her legs spread just right. Her long strawberry hair fell down her shoulders in loose waves onto the sheets.

“Just like that,” Lucifer murmured, a blonde wave falling into his eye. He was focused, his tongue partially out of his mouth, his eyebrows knitted together. She wasn’t able to see the painting from her vantage point, but she knew what it was. It was always the same. I just can’t get you right, he’d complain, his voice laced with pain and disdain. She thought he made her more beautiful than she ever could be on her own.

When she’d met him, he was so focused on his art. He would eat, sleep, and drink his paintings. His clothing was speckled with oil colors, his fingers calloused from gripping paint brushes for hours on end. She found him sexy and mysterious. She was dying to know the man behind such beautiful pieces of art.

It didn’t take long for his obsession to shift from his art directly to her. He doted on her endlessly, showering her in flowers, candy, candlelight dinners. They made love constantly. He couldn’t get enough of her.

“Let me paint you, Y/N,” he’d purr between her legs. “I just want to paint you.” It took her weeks to say yes. She’d always brush him off, blushing and insecure. “You’re exquisite. Please let me paint you.”

She struggled to deny Lucifer’s requests when he asked as his breath tickled the inside of her thigh. It was hard to deny him of anything , if she was being honest. The first time she said yes, he arrived in her bedroom and asked her to drop the floral robe she was wearing. He’d seen her naked dozens of times, but she was still nervous, vulnerable, staring at him. She brought him a bag, insisting that he look inside before she disrobed.

He stared at the bag, confused.

“They’re body paints,” she explained. “I thought you wanted to paint me.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. They made love on the apartment floor, painting designs on each other's skin until she was swollen and wanting, gasping his name into the night.

When she woke up in the early hours of the morning, she found him painting her image onto a canvas laying splayed out, covered in swirls of sex and paint. “Don’t move,” he instructed calmly. She wanted to be angry, but she still felt drunk from being ravished, and his eyes examining her were sensual and slow. She watched his wrist spin and curl, and a chill ran up her spine.

“Lucifer, how much longer? ”

“You’re just so beautiful, Y/N. You know that, right?”

“No,” she murmured, and his eyebrows knitted together.

“We will fix that,” he promised. “You will always be this beautiful.” He was talking to her, she logically knew that, but from her vantage point she could’ve sworn he was speaking to the canvas.

Present

Y/N entered the code to unlock the front gate to her property, leaning half out her car window. Thankfully, her bleeding had stopped, but her upper lip and chin were still crusty with blood. She looked like a mess, if she was being honest, but the only one there to judge her was her chocolate brown pit bull, Castiel, and Y/N figured that Cas wouldn’t care much either way.

The iron gate opened with a groan, sliding to her right. She slid back into her seat and shifted out of park to pull forward down the driveway toward her house. It was modest, nothing too big or magnificent. The outside was grey brick, a two story home with a large green yard and a pool in the back. As she pulled up, she could already see Castiel’s nose pressed against the window, her head through the thick curtains. Y/N smiled, her heart warming at the sight. She wiggled her fingers at Castiel in a small wave.

Castiel greeted her at the door, his tail wagging excitedly. She knelt down to pet his chin only to be met with deep blue eyes and a pink tongue. “I know, buddy. I need to shower somethin’ fierce.”

She kissed his nose and murmured. “I’m good. We’re good.” Half the time she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. She locked the front door behind her and kicked off her shoes. Her arms ached and her heartbeat was still residing in her sinus from her fall. She let her hair out of the tie that kept it up in a high ponytail, letting it fall down her back. Her head was sore from her hair being up for hours. She massaged her scalp with a wince. Everything hurt and she couldn’t wait to wash her problems down the drain and start fresh.

Her work out clothes were discarded on the bathroom floor, the sound of running water and the steam accumulating in the air were already starting to soothe her. She took a deep breath in through her nose with a wince before stepping into the shower and closing the curtain behind her.

Y/N faced the water, letting the heat roll down her skin. The water ran brown from sweat and blood. She braced her hands on the walls of the shower to keep herself steady. She closed her eyes, letting the baptism wash her worries away. Time has a way of wrecking a person, she knew that much. It gave a false sense of security, a sense of growth and change. She spent so much time trying to put her past behind her, locked away inside of a box.

She opened her eyes and looked at the half sleeves covering her wrists and forearms. The flowers and vines twisting around her arms, climbing, and growing out of thick, pink scars - creating something beautiful out of tragedy. She had hoped, when she got them, that they would help her heal and forget. She could laugh now at that naive girl who thought anything would let her forget. Time heals wounds, yes, but the greatest ones still ached in the cold and the rain.

Suds from soap and shampoo swirled down the drain, and she reached down to turn off the water. She wrapped her hair in a towel and slipped into her robe. She could hear Castiel whine outside of the bathroom door, unusually unhappy with not being able to see her. “You’re good, Cas,” she called out, wiping the fog from the mirror. She examined her nose. It was a little swollen and already beginning to bruise. She cursed to herself and just hoped that it’d be dull enough that her painted foundation would cover it. The last thing she needed was to worry those around her.

Castiel scratched at the door again, and she opened it, her dog circling her legs impatiently. “What is your deal?” Y/N reached down and scratched behind her ear, eliciting licks from Castiel.

Towel drying her hair, she stepped out of the bathroom and rounded the corner. Her eyes were heavy, and her head pounded from the hit. She needed coffee, bad . As she turned the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks, her towel falling from her hand. Castiel whined insistently, nudging Y/N’s leg with his nose. She stared face to face with something so familiar that it made her gut tighten, acid crawling up her throat.

A painting hung at her eye level in the hallway near the bathroom. Fine brush strokes of pale peach skin, strawberry twists of hair splayed out on black satin sheets, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and freckled legs spread out, exposing a delicate pink vagina tucked between them.

Y/N stared at herself. Her eyes closed, her swollen mouth, her pink cheeks on a face and head that belonged to her. Her freckled neck blended downwards onto heavy breasts with dark nipples and a mole under the right that she’d never seen before.

Her knees were weak, and she stumbled back, bumping into Castiel and tumbling backwards. She fell, hitting her tailbone on the wood floors with a hard smack . Tears burned in her eyes, from pain or fear she wasn’t sure. Castiel came to her, licking her cheek in concern.

Anxiety crept into her chest, pressing down heavily. She gasped for breath and clamped her eyes shut. She pictured the box inside of her mind, thrashing and pulsing with anger, begging to be opened. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she forced herself to stand on shaking legs. She made her way to her bedroom and quickly spun the code on her safe, pulling her gun from it. She clicked the safety off and held it in front of her.

With each room that she checked she only found an emptiness that overtook her home with a heaviness that seemed to engulf her completely. Nothing seemed strange or out of place other than the large depiction of her naked body that hung on her wall.

She kept her gun positioned outward and pulled out her cellphone, dialing the number that she could never forget. All she could hope for was an answer, and as a ring met her ear she let out a sigh of relief. It had been so long, she had expected a disconnected tone. She pressed the phone closer to her ear as she heard his voice.

“Y/N?”

“He’s back.”

------

Chapter Two

Read on A03 Here

Tag List: @lyarr24

@dean-winchesters-bacon

@waywardbaby @akshi8278

[perpetuallyfive]

Can trans people be lesbophobic? I'm not talking about Caitlyn Jenner. I'm talking about other trans people who have been lesbophobic towards individuals. How are lesbians supposed to confront transwomen perpetrators when they cry oppression? How is a lesbian supposed to call out to the 'queer community' about what happened to them? When that very queer community says that trans people are not even capable of that? That it must be your fault too (victim blaming).

If you have a meaningful response to this, I think I'd actually be grateful.

Just for context, I can call out straight men, gay men, lesbian women, and pretty much every demographic for harassing me. But why am I not taken seriously when transwomen do it?

Have you considered that this might be the origin of many lesbians feeling betrayed by 'our' 'communities'?

Look, I'm going to try to engage with this and the only way I can do that is by assuming you're asking this in good faith, even though there are a lot of possible warning signs here. Because the actual question you're asking me is can a person, a single individual, be capable of bigotry, biases, or bad behavior. The answer to that is obvious, right? Of course they can. Of course people can do bad things. We all know this. So it's strange to ask, right, unless you're struggling to understand that trans people aren't a monolith and are just, you know, people. A trans woman or a trans man is just a person, just like you are.

Can lesbians be lesbophobic? Can lesbians make mistakes? Obviously the answer is yes. Because lesbians aren't a monolith.

I don't know who you've made friends with that you can't talk about someone hurting or harassing you and still be taken seriously. If that's happened to you, that's sincerely fucked up. That shouldn't have happened. I can certainly tell you, however, that t*rf ideology isn't the solution you're looking for. One of their basic founding ideas is based entirely in gendered absolutes that only men can violate and harass and other women never can. But that's not how people work at all, is it? People are people. That's kind of the point. You shouldn't think of a category of person and try to box them in based on one aspect of identity.

But if your idea of lesbophobia is for a trans lesbian to say that she's a lesbian or something like that, or trans women being included in lesbian attraction, then we have a problem. Because that's not lesbophobia. I hope you would know that, but there's certainly not enough information here for me to know what kinds of instances you're talking about. But certainly trans lesbians exist and lesbians who are attracted to trans women are still lesbians. I see so many absolutely insane hypotheticals about this though where, again, people act like they're being told they have to experience attraction for an entire category of people. That's actually absurd. I'm certainly not attracted to all lesbians. Some of us are absolutely repulsive people with horrible personalities and that's just not my thing. The point is we're just people. We're individuals.

It's just odd that you feel like you're being asked not to see trans women as individuals when that's exactly all people want. To see every trans individual as a person, as themself, and judge them based on exactly that. If you feel unable to express yourself, perhaps consider your words and how you're going about it or, frankly as I said, reconsider your friend group and how much they consider your actual feelings. If you're not feeling heard, perhaps it's the people who you are speaking to that are the problem. And for the record, this is something many people don't know so I'm not trying to pick on you, but I do think it goes to the heart of your question in many ways: it's "trans woman" and not "transwoman." Because trans is an adjective, describing a kind of woman instead of a prefix on a noun describing a different category of person all together. It's like tall woman, shy woman, blonde woman. A trans woman is just a kind of a woman. Can an individual woman be biased or behave horribly? Of course she can. She's human. Maybe try talking to her, having a dialogue, taking questions in good faith even when you're not sure that they're well intended. Or don't, if that single person doesn't feel like they're worth your time. That shouldn't change how you feel about a million other people you've never met. Just try to think of people as individuals, not categories. You don't want to be treated like you're automatically xyz just for being a lesbian, right? So extend others that same courtesy of recognizing their humanity. If you're feeling isolated from our community then learning to talk to people about it is a big first step. It's hard, but it's a start, so I appreciate you sending this message and I hope you found some part of this answer helpful.

[aethwrs]

Let me help you

Agatha Harkness x Reader

A/N: I'm not really proud of this but I hope you like it. I'll fix the possible mistakes later.Also, please tell me if I should add any trigger warning.

TW: mental control, mentions of nightmares

══════════════════════

Silent streets, the loud sound of gusts of wind and large blood-red clouds covering most of the night sky gave the environment a gloomy appearance. Blasts of crimson red and purple magic were seen here and there, both coming from different witches who were fighting each other, their magic altering that chaotic environment in which lightning and thunder could now be seen and heard.

Agatha was trying to take Wanda's powers, while she was trying to save and keep standing that city that was the product of her sorrow and sadness, in which she now had her own family with the man she had lost time ago.

“You’re hurting these people, Wanda” Agatha's voice was present, causing Wanda to look up, finding the owner of that voice standing on the edge of a building with a malicious smile plastered on her face as she watched how a crowd of neighbors approached the red-haired witch, begging her to stop causing them pain.

“Stop this” Wanda muttered as she looked around and listened to the neighbours who begged to be released from her mind control, “Stop this!” She yelled, this time addressing Agatha who was watching the situation from above.

“I am not the one causing them pain, dear” she chuckled, her hands pointing to the people surrounding the other witch. “I just cut their strings”

Just seconds after Agatha said that, she watched as Wanda disappeared right in front of her eyes and without even having time to react, she felt cold hands settle on the sides of her head and then some red mist clouded her vision, her eyes turning the same color as that mist.

In the blink of an eye Agatha found herself back in that forest that was once her home but now, the memory of it only caused her nightmares and pain.

No, she couldn't be there.

No.

She didn't want to be there, not again.

"Agatha!" she heard the distant screams coming from among the tall trees. With Wanda closely following her, Agatha slowly approached the place from which those screams were coming.

Taking the place where she was that night, Agatha saw how her constant nightmare and worst memory was happening again, but unlike how it happened in dreams, this felt real.

"Harkness do something!" Agatha watched your face twist in pain as you screamed with all your might, for some reason your powers weren't working and you weren't able to defend yourself on your own. But no matter how much you yelled at her, young Agatha still didn't know how to use her dark magic to help and all she did was protect herself from the hunters with a barrier.

"I can't" Agatha murmured, more to herself than to you, she couldn't understand someone with as much power as you was unable to defend herself.

Your gaze full of fear and anger sought to make eye contact with the other young woman while you tried to resist the men's attempts to take you away.

"AGATHA!" Your voice reflected your pain, you were helpless. You were exhausted and did not know how long it would be until you passed out from the physical pain caused by a powerful force that you were not able to recognize. You felt how it drained the last traces of energy you had and before everything faded to black, you whispered, "help me"

Those were the last words Agatha heard from you and what happened next was just a blur.

Opening her eyes, Agatha found herself in the same situation as before. Wanda in front of her a few meters away and...no, it couldn't be real. Her mind was surely playing with her because otherwise, it would not explain what was in front of her eyes.

"I see you recognise her, don't you?" Wanda said in a mocking and sarcastic tone while one of her hands kept your head fixed looking at Agatha. It was you. Y/n. But how? "Cat caught your tongue?" The redhead laughed bitterly and she could swear that she saw Agatha's eyes soften in fear.

"Y/N...how?" Agatha yelled the last part looking at the young woman, who released one of your hands, letting you fall a few inches while you let out a small cry of fear.

"Harkness for the love of-" You started yelling at her right before Wanda silenced you. Oh it was you definitely, Agatha would recognize your kind and patient personality anywhere. You were struggling to get out of Wanda's grip, kicking and hitting but there's no need to say that it wasn't working.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, dear" the red-haired witch whispered in your ear, earning a death glare coming from the oldest witch.

"What do you want, Maximoff?" Agatha muttered as Wanda smiled evily.

"You leave me and my family in peace" She started, playing with a lock of your hair between her fingers, Agatha's eyes watching every single move she made. "and you two can stay alive"

"Let her go first" you rolled your eyes, still unable to say a single word while Agatha negotiated your 'freedom'.

"As you please" and with a flick of her hand, Wanda disappeared in a cloud of red smoke, letting you fall freely from the heights.

Knowing you would use your magic to stop the fall, Agatha stayed in her spot, surprising herself when the only thing she saw was how you didn't even attempt to save yourself and instead, you only called out her name.

Going as fast as she could, she caught you a few inches before you hit the ground, hands gripping your waist tightly to help you get on your feet.

"Are you really alive?" She whispered, fixing and taking out the dirt from her dress.

"I'm as alive as you are, Harkness" You coldly answered, tying your shoelaces and moving her out of the way, ready to go. "Now move"

"You didn't use your magic, why?" Agatha blurted out of nowhere, her eyebrows raised and a serious expression on her face. "And how are you here?"

"That crazy witch just pulled me into this dream town and surprisingly, I couldn't do anything" you sarcastically replied to her and emphasized the words 'dream town'. Rolling your eyes in annoyance you approached her, getting dangerously close to her face "guess why? oh yeah, I have NO MAGIC!"

Taking advantage of the closeness, she looked into your eyes. You were infuriated, yes, but your eyes also showed her how the pain bottled inside of you screamed to get out and take control of your body.

"What do you mean you don't have magic?" Although your closeness made her somewhat nervous, she simply decided to ignore it and continue her questioning.

"You see, for example, you can use spells and continue with your evil witch-style plans..." you began to explain with a false expression of joy and a calm tone of voice while moving your hands in the air as way of emphasizing your words "and I can't!"

The sudden change in your voice made her move slightly away from you, not because she was scared, but surprised. But who was she to judge you for being mad?

"You're as lovely as I remember you" she replied sarcastically, hearing a sigh coming from you.

"Same goes for you" you told her, your voice monotonous and cold, since you only wanted to leave that place but she was making you waste your time. "But now, if you excuse me, I have to go" You pushed Agatha aside, ready to go before she stopped you once again.

"You are so stubborn" she muttered under her breath and with a simple move of her hands, both of you appeared on her basement, your eyes quickly scanning every corner of the gloomy place.

"If I remember clearly, you used to like that" It seemed like you were just teasing her and if it were another time, she would have done it too, but the venom in each of your words made her realise how mad you actually were, so maybe the jokes should wait. "oh and for you to keep in mind, you just brought me here against my will...very villainous may I add"

"What I was trying to say is, I can help you" Evading any sarcastic reply she could think of, Agatha remained serious as she spoke.

"Why would I trust you?" You shrugged and asked without even looking at her while you inspected the books stored on the shelves.

"Because you know me" The brunette simply answered and pointed to one of the old books "and take that one"

"Do I really?" You turned to her with the book full of dust in your hands, determined to question everything you could, knowing how much it irritated her.

"As much as you probably hate me, you must accept that you need my help" Agatha gestured for you to come closer to her "You know I wouldn't hurt you so...let me help you"

"But you wouldn't protect me either" you whispered and chuckled, the words coming out of your mouth unintentionally.

"Y/n, about that day I-" she tried to explain but stopped once you stood in front of her handling her the book.

"I don't feel like talking about that now" you said softly, sighing and showing her a gesture similar to a smile that even if it wasn't one, gave her some hope.

"Then let's start with this book" Agatha added, leading you to a small altar in one of the corners. "We have a long way to go"

[sometimes-men-need-help-too]

What does modern feminism do that you don't agree with? This is genuine btw

A couple things before I start: 

- This is not meant to bash all the feminists out there unless they fit into what I’m saying. I know there are good feminists out there 

- When I say ‘you’ I’m not meaning you, I’m saying it in a general way 

-I hope I get my point across and it’s clear. I sometimes struggle with that 

Also I’m sorry this is so long and it’s in no particular order and I hope none of this comes across as being aggressive or anything

~~ 

A lot of my issues with the movement boils down to attitudes. To me, that is very telling of its true colors. And I do try not to necessarily judge an entire movement from just the bad people because I know that isn’t fair, although I do feel like the bad feminists have taken over the movement and end up drowning out the good voices and that’s why we hear more negativity than positivity. 

One thing that I have issue with the lack of respect towards those that disagree whether it’s with the movement itself or it’s a particular thing. For a movement that preaches about a woman’s choice, I don’t feel that really happens like it should. I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong here but depending on what the topic is I get a general impression like you’re not really supposed to disagree with what’s being side. You do and you might have someone lash out at you (that’s another point I have). Or if you say you’re anti feminist, you have people coming up with these reasons why they think you are; one being internalized misogyny  and you get called a pick-me which I find a bit insulting.  I should be able to have an opinion without someone assuming I’m trying to get a man’s attention or I can’t think for myself or I hate other girls. That isn’t it! Wouldn’t you think that is misogynistic? 

And if it’s not  internalized misogyny, then there are other factors; her being white (which usually then goes on to sound racist)  or it’s because she has money or  internalized racism or whatever they come up with. And it sounds condescending and that just bugs me. Hey, maybe instead of some underlying reason, we just don’t agree. 

or you have people try to stick the label on anyway. 

‘If you believe in equality you’re a feminist’

The label means nothing. I don’t understand why some will focus on this so much. I don’t want to be called a feminist. I don’t need to. In the same way, it’s not necessary for me to refer to myself as an MRA (men’s rights activist). And yeah, I know this says it’s an “MRA blog” that’s what I had when I started. But ultimately, the label isn’t important. I’m all for equality. It’s cool, it’s great. But I see this sort of thing (online that is) being forced on people and the thing is, with that wording it makes it sound like the movement is all inclusive when it’s not. You have to have certain politics and for the most part (unless you’re a religious feminist) you have to be pro choice otherwise you’re not a ‘real’ feminist. 

My next issue is all the aggression. You can just tell sometimes with how people respond online or if you catch a video that someone posted. And not only that, but how quickly people fall into name-calling or just all around acting like a child. And for the most it seems pretty acceptable to some because it keeps happening. It’s not hard to find on this site or otherwise. If you can’t communicate your opinions about something without having a fit or blocking someone (excluding if they just keep harassing you) then you’re not mature enough. That shows me you don’t really care about having a real discussion. And some can say that it happening on here is probably done by teenagers and to an extent they’re probably right. But it happens on other sites and in real life as well and it’s more than just teens. It’s people my age and older and that’s not cool. 

And then we have  how some like to ignore the differences between men and women. Sure, yes, there are many things a woman can do just like a man but we also have to acknowledge our differences.  I don’t see a lot of that with some forms of feminism. STEM, for example, is something I would attribute the differences more to just how men and women tend to be rather than sexism. Could there be certain circumstances where it is sexism? Sure, I suppose you can’t rule it out entirely. Otherwise I would say it’s just what they’re happy doing. I know girls who are doing science stuff or business things but I also know girls who are going to be teachers or psychologists or nurses. It’s not that they're actively being told by everyone that they can’t do it(I suppose unless they live in some other country like that). That’s just what they want to do, you know, their choice. Just like how some men go towards a job like with computers or farming or they’re pre-school teachers or gynecologists.

 I found an interesting fact (source will be posted below) that said women are actually preferred over men two-to-one for faculty positions. The study was done by psychologists from Cornell University with professors from 371 colleges/universities in the US. It also noted that: “recent national census-type studies showing that female Ph.D.s are disproportionately less likely to apply for tenure-track positions, yet when they do they are more likely to be hired, in some science fields approaching the two-to-one ratio revealed by Williams and Ceci.” 

Yet, we need to ask ourselves honestly, how often do facts like these get passed around vs the idea that women are suffering from misogyny and therefore are unable to fully represent in STEM jobs? 

The next thing I want to address is misandry. Now there are a good portion of people who don't think it exists or if it does, it's really not much of an issue because of the "power" and the "privilege" men have within society. And to me, I have a problem with that. If feminism is supposed to be for men as well, I would think they would want to combat misandry as well as misogyny. If someone really doesn't think it exists, I would suggest that the person really take a look at what goes on in real life and online that's directed towards men.

There's the whole "male tears" thing which is on coffee mugs and t-shirts. There's the kill all men/yes all men thing. All of which are supposed to be jokes and if a man says something about it he gets mocked for his "fragile masculinity"

That's just not okay. They're being immature and a bully which they usually try to justify (men have done this and that throughout history to women) but you just can't.

I found this article, this really really atrocious article. It's one of those open letter things and found on this feminist website (feminisminindia) and I almost believed it to be satire with how.... stereotypically Tumblr it was. I did research and looked at the info regarding the site and nope, it's a serious site. I'll post the article below but I'll also summarize it:

Basically this woman is telling the men in her life that she will not stop saying "men are trash or other radical feminist opinions." She's saying it because women and others have suffered so much at the hands of the patriarchy because they're not straight white men. She goes on to say:

So let’s establish: misandry isn’t real. Just like unicorns and heterophobia, misandry is a myth because it isn’t systematic or systemic. Unlike misogyny, cis men don’t face oppression purely based on their gender. While they may encounter instances of racism, homophobia and ableism, they are not dehumanised as a function of their gender identity (read: cis privilege).

That is wrong. Absolutely wrong. Misandry is real. "Cis" people do face oppression purely based on their gender. Anyone can. To deny that lacks understanding.

And the rest is just saying that: It is time to start hating on men-as-a-whole and starting celebrating the men that you are.

And: Because at the end of the day, feminists need men. Whether it’s because you wield structural power or because we genuinely value your existence, we need to band together to destroy ‘men’ because men are trash, but you, if you made it to the end of this, are probably not. Prove me right.

I would imagine this is a common viewpoint. And it's not a good one. If you genuinely think a whole group as a whole is bad you need to reexamine your thoughts. It's not "men" that are bad, it's the sexist people.

To wrap this up (I'm sure you might be tired of reading this lol); like I said, the attitudes play a huge part of it. Modern feminism, in my opinion, is just not good enough for me to say I agree with it and want to identify as one. I just can't

Here is the link to the feminist article: https://www.google.com/amp/s/feminisminindia.com/2020/09/23/men-are-trash-and-other-radical-feminist-opinions/%3famp

And here is the link for the STEM thing: https://news.cornell.edu/stories/2015/04/women-preferred-21-over-men-stem-faculty-positions

[ivansergeyevichturgenev]

besties i think if you are unable to separate your religion from your practice as a therapist i think you need to just go into a religious practice or if you do private practice advertise that part because it affects how you treat your patients. like a lot. my therapist from eons ago went to liberty and another religious school and she was like the only therapist that my mom could get me in to see and this was like supposedly secular but she victim blamed sexual assault victims (THE WHOLE REASON I WAS SEEING THIS BITCH) and was obsessed with knowing whether or not i was a lesbian even though i found her facebook where she publicly disapproves of gay people. i think it's unethical for insurance to pay for therapy or for therapists to take insurance like i will only ever pay out of pocket for therapy because at the time i didn't realize it but she would administer like multiple ptsd assessments at the beginning of every session which i now know she was doing so she could bill that and towards the end when my insurance stopped covering her whole demeanor towards me shifted she didn't even try to hide that she did not want to see me. she didn't even try to treat the whole reason i was there, instead pressuring me to bring my journal where i wrote very intimate things not only about what happened to me but just about my life and she judged me for it. i could have gotten help for what was (probably bulimia that i struggled with for years and still occasionally get the urge to throw up only writing probably bc i never got diagnosed) but instead when i described my feelings which i now know is incredibly common in other people with eating disorders she just told me that i was weird. this woman shouldn't be practicing. she supposedly works with traumatized children like that's her whole thing and she seems to fucking hate it. i told her the most intimate details of what he did to me and she seemed to be embarrassed on my behalf. i told her things that were very painful and she brushed me off. why even go into this field