#i hope my next psych listens to me

[dagasinfilo]

i do not think i can mentally handle having no income anymore but i do not think i can handle literally anything that’ll give me an income

[flcwermimi]

❛ THE ICEBERG EFFECT IN THE VOID STATE ❜

Even after doing right things / following the right method / being persistant towards our desires sometimes we don't get the fruitful outcome and we all have asked ourselves WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?

According to the research our conscious mind which is aware of our feelings, thoughts and behaviour is like a tip of an ICEBERG visible above the water & on the other hand majority of the iceberg, representing the unconscious mind, lies hidden beneath the surface.The unconscious mind is thought to contain instincts, repressed memories, and other mental processes that we are not directly aware of, but which still influence our behavior and decision-making.

Hand to Hand same happens on our Void/Manifestation journey. The ICEBERG in the void state are :

— SUPPRESSED EMOTIONS - Not being able to confess what u actually feel & often ignoring the emotions overcome this by doing some action regarding when u actually feel happy or angry CONFESS IT ' I am happy/ angry '

— UNRESOLVED PAST TRAUMA/ ISSUE - Even u feel it doesn't effect at all but it does unconsciously the burden of UNRESOLVED THINGS or UNADRESSES ISSUE can lead to several mental issue and to overcome it once must overlook yourself, apologize if u are wrong,get help, share their feelings with someone

— SCARED OF THEIR DESIRE - Often someone DM 's me saying that they're scared of having their desire which is completely normal and I feel to restrict this feeling from their self once should just appreciate their self , hangout with good energy people and decrease their screen time

— SOMETHING HOLDING BACK : From my recent post I got many DM regarding how they feel what is holding them back and it's important to have knowledge on the rights things misinformation sometimes stick to ourselves very deeply

— SELF DOUBT : Many people doubts them regarding the how powerful they're, they often find validation to have their desire so it's very important to work on self-concepts and stop questioning " is it possible" or " can I have this or that?"

— NOT STICKING TO ONE THING : One individual when they're trying to enter void often keeps changing methods or finding something which can magically help them and it often leads them finding hard to believe in any methods. Even if u fail at one method at 3 - 4 times doesn't mean it's not effective it's all about mindsets u must stick to one thing and stop looking sources like ' enter the void instantly/ do this method to happen in second ' because u are not realising how powerful u are actually u don't need those things everything is on your command

— COMPLICATING THINGS : As I seen so many of people making a bunch of routine it irritates me cause They are listening subliminals also and on the side they are even doing robotic affirmation and also five minutes they are doing PSYCH -K and next they are also doing mediation and on the night they will put long bunch hypnosis and in the same night they are doing WBTB method trust me you don't need so much things u doing these all things result that u are putting the void on the pedestal Just question yourself this all is needed?doing so much u are exhausting yourself physically and mentally

— TIME : For those who really starts to panic when they don't enter void on the specific time it's ok time hasn't been wasted nothing is wrong when u didn't enter the void on your specific time the only thing u will be doing wrong in that time is making diffrent theories, underestimating yourself, finding different methods, saying yourself a failure

So these we're some things I wanted to list from the very starting I hope u all read it all through find what is actually stopping you and there is no guarantee this thing happens to each and everyone I have listed it down by over analysing the success stories, my experience

Further what u can do is listen to self concept subliminals, building confidence, don't overwork on your selves, stop finding validation and logic in everything , surrounding yourself with postive beliefs , patience is virtue so keep persisting , do something new daily as if meditate or write a journal or share your thoughts with others learn new skills

That's it all no iceberg effect is bigger than you so stop doubting yourself you can do this it's all easy peasy 🤍🫶

[yogurtkags]

hii! may i please request suna rintaro w maybe some friends to lovers? u can have creative freedom w it! i just want it to be completely sfw bc i’m only 17!:)

❝ SO HIGH SCHOOL ❞ — suna rintarou

cw. gn!reader, implied friends to lovers, slight canon divergence — inarizaki beats karasuno, light swearing (like once)

event masterlist

the gymnasium is ablaze, drums and horns in an intense battle of psyche against each other as the teams fight it out on the orange court with rally after rally.

you’re sitting at the edge of your seat, eyes wide and hands clenched together as the last few points of this definitive match drag out. your heart rapidly races against your chest and your palms are beginning to sweat, you’ve been awfully quiet for a while now, focused on the game at hand and nervously bounding your leg up and down.

suna doesn’t know that you’re here, you told him that you couldn’t make it because you were called back to school to help with tutoring. he didn’t mind too much considering the circumstances and this wasn’t the finals or anything. nonetheless, you caught a glimpse of disappointment flash in his eyes for a split second, and you knew you’d do anything in your power to show up today, even if it meant bowing on your knees and apologising to your poor kouhai for rainchecking on her. she just politely patted your back and told you to go get your man, much to your embarrassment.

it’s down to inarizaki’s match point, and atsumu’s yelling for the cover after karasuno barely manages to bump the ball back over the net.

with a pass directly to atsumu, the twins once again attempt their minus tempo quick attack and with bated breath, the stands fall silent and the air is stifling, the crowds listening out for the decisive whistle and call that would determine who moves on to the next round of the tournament.

“what a spike from miya osamu, beautifully set by his twin brother miya atsumu, and with that, inarizaki takes the win today and clinch a spot in the top 16 for this year’s high school spring volleyball tournament!”

you shoot up from your seat hidden in the corner at the side of the court, hands over your mouth as you bask in the loud cheers of the people around you, fellow inarizaki students, teachers, and spectators alike. your eyes scan the orange court, searching for your best friend in a sea of black and orange, and when they do find his, you can’t help but let out a tearful laugh at the way they widen with disbelief, and soften as his arms open wide for you to run into.

as you throw yourself into his embrace, suna catches you with an oof, lightly spinning as he tries to regain his footing, “woah easy there, tiger.”

raising your voice so that he can hear you over the crowd, “congratulations rin!”

you wrap your arms around his neck as his hands tenderly rest against your waist to support you, forehead leaning against his as your breath fans against his cheeks, more quietly this time, “i’m so proud of you, always.”

in this moment, time stands still and all the surrounding noise fades, it’s just the two of you standing in the middle of the tokyo metropolitan gymnasium, nothing but sweat and polished hardwood floors beneath your feet.

suna whispers, “i fucking love you so much, i could kiss you right now.”

“do it, i dare you.” your face is graced with a shy smile and a cheeky glint hidden in crescent moons for eyes, and he thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

and who was he to ever back down from a challenge, head dipping ever so slightly to finally capture your lips in his.

they’re right, we don’t need the memories, let’s just live in the moment, you and me.

notes. hi chloe !! thank you so much for your request, this is my first time writing for sunarin and i hope i did him justice ♡ i look forward to interacting more with you, lovely !! (dividers: @/cafekitsune) reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 – GAVI

warnings. p in v sex, public s3x (there’s no one around), jealous!gavi, & an annoying teammate

summary. academic rival!gavi makes sure you only have room for one nerd in your life

a/n. part two of comfort zone. tysm for the idea @gavisuntiedboot 🫶🏽

the sound of your professor’s voice filled the room as he explained your next assignment. you simultaneously put away your notes and listened carefully as this next project would be worth twenty percent of your grade. you were already laying out the details of your work as the professor continued to describe the assignment.

“there is one twist to this project. you’ll be working with a partner.” his words made you freeze. “and before you ask yes i will be choosing your partner for you.”

the room was filled with groans at his last comment, many of your classmates upset that they wouldn’t be working with their friends. meanwhile your eyes searched the room until they locked with a certain brunette. gavi had been looking forward to asking you to be his partner and now he was simply hoping the professor had decided to put you two together.

“mrs. y/l/n and mr. moretti you’ll be working together.” your professor says as he crushes gavi’s hopes and dreams.

franco moretti had arrived last semester from turin when his father took over as head of the marketing department for sevilla fc. he was also the teammate gavi despised the most due to them playing in the same position and because he would always insult him in words he didn’t understand. you scan the room to search for the argentine spotting him all the way at the end of the room looking at something else on his laptop. you sigh in frustration wondering if this project would be the reason your grade goes down.

as soon as class ends you make your way towards the blonde hoping to introduce yourself and get the project over with. he instantly notices you offering you one of his flirty smirks.

“bueno…” he starts. “we’re partners right?”

“uh, yeah. i just came to introduce myself-”

“i know who you are.” he interrupts you. “well i only know you’re like the smartest kid in our class.”

“i wouldn’t say that.” your cheeks heat up at his words.

“no need to be humble. your face along with his-” he points towards gavi. “is plastered all over the school. i’ve got to say i am very impressed by how you manage to do sports and somehow maintain your grades so high at the same time. but you probably just want to talk about our project.”

“uhm, thank you?” you can’t help but laugh at the interaction. “oh, yeah. i just wanted to ask if you have any certain topics you want to make our project about?”

“well i’ve got to get to practice in like five minutes or else coach will make me run five miles around the whole school. do you maybe want to meet up at the library later to discuss it? say around four?” he says as he packs up this things.

“yeah, that’s fine. i’ll see you there.” you smile awkwardly not sure if you should look forward to seeing him later or not.

you stay behind a couple of minutes going over some of your notes with the professor making sure you got everything right. you couldn’t afford to risk your spot in the rankings for a small error. grabbing your stuff you make way towards the library hoping to get some free time to study for your next psych exam before meeting up with franco. although, you don’t expect to find gavi waiting for you outside the door.

“he totally thinks you’re hot.” he simply blurts out.

“nice to see you too pablo.” you say sarcastically. “why are you blessing me with your presence today?”

“i bless you with my presence everyday.” he says as he begins following you to wherever it is you’re going. “so, you and franco…”

“me and franco aren’t even friends if that’s what you’re wondering.” you roll your eyes. “why do you even hate him so much?”

“i don’t hate him.” you simply stare at him. “okay maybe i do just a little but it’s reasonable.”

“you hate him because his dad works for sevilla and he’s slowly climbing up through the rankings. i’m not sure i would call that reasonable.” you say as you open the doors to the library. you’re grateful there’s barely anyone in there, you don’t enjoy being around large groups.

“whatever.” he huffs. “do you think he’s cute?”

you pause in your tracks turning towards gavi. the top button of his dress shirt unbuttoned and his red tie on the verge of coming loose. he looked quite good and a part of you just wanted to go home already.

“are you jealous pablito?” you tease him.

“me? jealous of a benchwarmer? please. not only am i better than him athletically but also academically. there’s no reason for me to be jealous.” he scoffs at the ridiculous idea.

“okay so you won’t have a problem with me studying with him later in here right? you totally didn’t follow me to the library just to make sure i didn’t find him attractive right?” you ask him as you press the button on the wall to get an elevator. you loved that each floor was dedicated to a different genre of books.

“why would i have a problem? i’m the only one making you cum anyways.” his words catch you off guard. you look around making sure no one else has heard him.

“pablo!” you hit his chest and you expect him to just laugh but he only stares at you. his eyes darker than before. he pulls you towards the end of the nonfiction section where there’s barely any light and a bunch of books that haven’t been read in years. how romantic.

“but maybe he’ll get lucky and you’ll spread your legs for him. give him a good view and everything.” he drags his hand to the middle of your legs opening up your legs.

you can feel his breath on your neck as he moves your hand from your thighs to your core teasing you. you completely forget where you are as he leaves love bites all over your neck. the pleasure intensifying as teases you by running his hands along your core but not getting them under your panties to touch you.

“and maybe he’ll hear those sinful noises you make as he drags his fingers along your folds.” you whine as pablo spreads your wetness around your folds with his fingers.

“but maybe you’ll be desperate to have him inside you to feel full again. so you’ll simply move these to the side.” he moves your panties to the side giving him full access to your dripping core. “and take him in you like the good girl you are.”

you help him undo his belt eager to have him fuck you already. his button down shirt losing some of its buttons in the process. the two of you so needy to finally come together like a puzzle to care about what happens next. he finally manages to pull out his hard aching dick out and he doesn’t waste another minute as he brings it to your needy hole.

“and then he’ll drag it along your folds teasing you even more. but after a couple of minutes he begins to insert himself until he fills you- oh fuck.” he groans as he enters you. “and your walls squeeze him as he pleasures you.”

“please pablo.” you beg him as one of your hands digs into his soft brown hair and the other into his shoulder at the feeling of his slow sensual thrusts.

“please what princess?” his voice sounds so out of breathe.

“faster please. fuck.” his length hits you in spots you didn’t know were possible. you can barely contain your moans and pablo simply hopes you get louder.

then you hear it the sound of the elevator doors opening for the end of the long hallway. you think you’re imagining it at first since pablo doesn’t notice it kissing you as he fucks you dumb. then you hear the loud footsteps and you panic they’re heading right towards the two of you.

“pablo. there’s someone here.” he can barely comprehend a word you’re saying as he watches how you take him so well. almost like your pussy was made just for him.

“pablo stop.” then he listens scared he crossed some boundaries and hurt you. he immediately steps away from you the two of you groaning at the loss of contact.

“fuck sorry. are you okay? did i-”

“no, you didn’t do anything wrong it’s okay. there’s someone here though. get dressed.” you say as you fix your hair and skirt.

meanwhile pablo isn’t so lucky and he can hardly button his pants when franco himself shows up. the argentine tries hardest to stop himself from laughing at his teammate but he barely can as he looks at pablo’s disheveled hair. although, you look perfectly fine so he tries to figure out why pablo looks so messy.

“bro you look like you got dressed in the dark what happened?” franco stifles a laugh.

“caught him getting frisky with one of the librarians.” you blurt out wanting to tease him.

“no way? but they’re all over thirty- oh don’t tell me you’re into milfs. kinky shit bro.” franco somehow believes your lie.

“fuck you.” gavi directs at you before being invaded by his teammate with more questions.

the next couple of minutes gavi tries his best to get his teammate to shut up and convince him that you were lying. that he simply had fallen asleep during class because he’d already studied the topic at home which was quite believable. the three of you chatted before gavi had to make his way towards the field to make up for missing practice earlier. although he spends all five miles grinning like a little shit because he’d be willing to run them all over again as long as it meant getting franco the furthest away from you. he was hoping you’d only have time for one academically gifted athlete.

[payasita]

Good job getting ADHD medication! I’m so proud of you :D

thanks so so much im very happy and so hopeful for the first time maybe ever but also it TOOK ME LIKE. A YEAR. A YEAR.

like yall for real?? for real. for real i have been diagnosed since i was like six. (funny story my teacher thought i was on the spectrum so my parents get me tested with the nodes and shit and according to mom, who loves this story, my neurologist did all that and talked to me and then just turned to my mom and went "she's not autistic. she just hates the other kids" but they DID find an adhd diagnosis in there so net win for all of us)

diagnosed since i was SIX. on stimulants until i turned 8, and you know why i got off em? my pediatrician retired. we could not find another who would take our low-income insurance. so i just had to rawdog The Rest Of My Fucking Life. diagnosed when i was six. legally neurodivergent for 20 slutty slutty angry years.

and it still took me like. a few months to get a psych appointment. a few weeks to reaffirm my diagnosis as an adult. a few more weeks for another appointment for meds. he doesnt Want to do meds first, because i must have been doing fine without them if its been two decades, right? i got a job and a car and everything. well gee fuckin shittickers Dr. Brain Guy, just WHAT was my alternative? would you prefer i be maladapted to the point of incapacitation; is that what it takes for someone to be considered? i cheated my way through school. every day after work i sit for an hour in my car because i dont have the executive function to stand up and walk the ten steps to my house. garbage just appears around me. i have three empty bags of hot chip and two cans of sprite on my desk as we speak, neither from today. at that point i hadnt had a debit card for six months because that would have required me to Drive To The Bank, a location that was new to me in this area, so i just did everything on credit. is this all normal? is this fine? am i GOOD, actually, Dr. WeirdBrain?

so we cordially agree that yes i should probably be medicated. i want to do a stimulant. he does not want to put me on a stimulant. "stimulants can mess with your heart," he says, "and you're young, you don't want heart problems." i say ok because i dont want to make him think im just looking for narcotics. even though i am. because they WORK. i agree to try some kind of antidepressant.

the antidepressant gives me tachycardia. i go to the emergency room after reading a heartbeat of, oh, 140 bpm, which is about like double what it normally is and juuuust below the You Are Having A Heart Attack threshold. i get to the ER and the doctor there is very obviously convinced i'm a local addict having some sort of episode. it is the most ironic experience i've had all year and i feel an abrupt and all consuming kinship with those birds in australia that will swoop you and peck at your face for seemingly no good reason.

so yeah, we narrow it down to the antidepressant. as it turns out, these particular meds are known to, semi-commonly, Mess With Your Heart. i have my next appointment with my psych and somehow refrain from pecking his eyes out. he puts me on a noreprinephrine inhibitor(iirc) that isnt actually FDA approved to treat ADHD specifically(i DEFINITELY rc) but it IS given to smokers to help them quit. i dont smoke. i may very well fucking start before this whole ordeal is at the point where someone listens to me

it obviously does a combined total of jack and shit, and the man waffles with this one because he has "had success" using it as treatment for other ADHD patients. he ups the dose. twice. three months on the smoker meds, which are also apparently notorious for destroying your appetite, but they didnt even do THAT. no change to the average amount of hot chip on my desk.

he wants to try quelbree after that. i finally tell him i'm tired of this shit and would like to have more than two hours of usable daylight to function before it all falls to uncontrollable youtube shorts binges and a daily experience i like to call The Weighted Nothings and i would very much like to PLEASE. TRY A STIMULANT.

he's been friendly enough with me over these past four or five or whatever months but at this he gets suddenly very very business-baseline. gives me the whole spiel about the north american shortage. gives me a spiel about how i absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, lose or sell this medication, because they will not refill it if i do. i am sitting here wondering if he he's telling the truth about having other ADHD patients at all like ever in his career, and also, am i nuts or should the "don't sell your prescription drugs" bit apply to EVERYTHING? i dont fuckin know man i just live here

he says he wants a urine test first. its scheduled for two weeks out. i take it.

"hey uh, your piss came back with cannabis in it" "well it'd be weirder if it didn't, we are in california and i am a kitchen manager" "you can't have weed if you want adderall" "fine i'll stop" "we'll schedule you another test in a month" "aight bet" it didnt go exactly like that but this is kind of what the vibe between us has devolved into by this point.

anyway i wait a month and get a good grade in piss. i get the meds prescribed. i go to fill out the prescription

all i really need to say to you are the words "prior authorization error" for most of you to get what happened next.

the psych isnt even aware. i wait another month for our next meeting, which was yesterday. i do not yell at him. he tells me to take it up with the pharmacy, and yell at them. i am going to yell at them.

so i go, and guess what, it actually went through a while ago! NO ONE TOLD ME OR DR. FEEL-BAD OVER HERE. but we can't fill it right now because its a controlled substance so come back in a few hours. hey it's ready where the hell are you? TAKE YOUR METH AND GET OUT

anyway i started it today, reorganized my pantry, and fixed the fire alarm in my hallway that's been chirping at me for a week. i no longer have to wear earplugs to bed.

and with my newfound executive function superpowers, i will be spraying my weed-free piss all over Reagan's grave.

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love and Liabilities (Agatha Harkness x FemReader): Chapter One

Summary: While you attend a pretrial conference for your current case, you’re stunned to learn your opposing council is your former ex…and law school professor, Agatha Harkness

Word Count: 4.7k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Smut, Light Choking, Light Degradation Kink, Mommy Kink, Hate Sex

A/N: Hi :) This idea has been bouncing around my brain since the promo pics came out. Lawyer Agatha, the gift we all need for the new year. This is my first real attempt at writing smut, but I hope y’all enjoy. Updates will be around every 2 weeks. If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please let me know. Feel free to let me know what you think! 💜 Also a special shout-out to my sweet girlfriend, Sarah, thank you for always listening to my crazy ideas.

Smoothing out a wrinkle from your pantsuit, you looked over your case materials from outside the courtroom. It had been almost a decade since you graduated law school, and you’d spent the time since working in corporate law as a junior attorney, before leaving the firm and working your way up as a top prosecutor. To say you were married to your job would be an understatement. It wasn’t enough to be good, you simply had to be the best. You’d always pride yourself on your ability to dig deep in a case and pull out missing details, or find a crack in a seemingly perfect alibi. You were ruthless, but you knew you had to be. The defense attorneys you found yourself battling in court were absolute sharks, and if they sensed an ounce of hesitation on your end it would be a total bloodbath.

Dealing with criminal defense cases was as interesting as it sounded, although it wasn’t what you envisioned you’d be doing after law school. You had different dreams back then, more altruistic visions of helping those who needed it. Closing your eyes, you saw a brief flash of the strikingly blue eyes and dark hair that caused you to change your choice of career, before you quickly shook those thoughts aside. It had been almost ten years since you’d allowed yourself to think about her- about any of it, and it wouldn’t benefit you to take a stroll down memory lane before the biggest case of your career.

A law clerk eventually came by to inform you the judge was ready for you. This was it. Gathering your materials, you walked through the details again in your mind. Pre-trial conferences were relatively helpful when trying to reach a plea bargain, review evidence, as well as decide what to present to the jury. There was no doubt in your mind that this case would go to trial. After all, a woman who kidnaps two children and takes them to a small town in New Jersey didn’t leave much to plead innocent from. What was the name of it, Westchester? Westmont? No, no, you mentally crossed those out, until the name finally came to mind…Westview. Westview, New Jersey.

The room was relatively empty, and you recognized the judge, Carol Danvers. She had a reputation for being rather uptight, but was typically fair in her rulings. She’d moved up through various circuit courts throughout her career, and you’d heard rumblings she was being eyed for a potential Supreme Court nomination. Setting your briefcase on the empty chair next to you, you thought of any possible hiccups from the defense. Supposedly a brief psych evaluation had been done after the incident to rule anything out, so they wouldn’t try and plead insanity, right? You couldn’t see Carol ruling in favor of that. There was the small problem of genetics; the woman was the boys’ birth mother. But, you’d looked over the adoption contracts, as had your colleagues, and they were airtight. It had been a closed adoption, and from what you could tell there had been no contact for over a decade. Plus, with solid testimonies from both families and multiple eyewitnesses you weren’t worried of whatever argument the defense would make in her favor.

Speaking of the defense, you quickly realized the defense attorney hadn’t arrived yet, which was a bit unusual. Racking your brain, you tried to remember the name of the attorney Yelena said was leading the case, but no one came to mind. Pepper Potts perhaps? Carol also appeared to notice the lack of the second attorney, as she whispered with one of the law clerks. You could barely make out what they were saying, but she sounded annoyed. But, no matter, you knew this had absolutely no impact on you.

Carol finally sighed in defeat at whatever the law clerk told her, something about hitting a fire hydrant? “Well, as we’re waiting on the defense to resolve their…tardiness, will the prosecution step forward?”

Standing up, you grabbed a copy of your materials, evidence, testimonies, anything the judge would need, before taking a step towards the judge. “Your honor, the state of New York is ready to move forward with our case. You’ll find sufficient evidence to dismiss any plea deal, as well as ensure we can schedule a trial date.”

Handing the papers to the judge, you watched as she flipped through them, an unreadable expression on her face. Minutes passed before she looked up at you. “The prosecution is dismissing the plea deal being proposed by the defense?”

Nodding, you recalled the deal that had been sent over to your office. It was preposterous, and was heavily dependent on the mental state of the defendant, or rather the lack of mental state of the defendant. “Yes, your honor. The state has inculpatory evidence to convict the defendant, as well as a number of witnesses willing to testify.”

A voice you’d only heard in your dreams for the past decade spoke up, and you nearly froze in place. “Inculpatory evidence? That’s a rather bold claim, I’d call it circumstantial at best.”

It couldn’t be. Paralyzed, you forced yourself to ignore it, to ignore her and keep your eyes locked forward. It couldn’t possibly be her, you would have remembered hearing her name as the defense attorney. Clearing your throat, you continued, trying to keep yourself calm. “With all due respect, your honor, the typical procedure for a case involving the abduction of a minor is what we’re basing this precedent on-”

An obnoxiously loud cackle cut you off, and nearly made you whip your head around in annoyance. The slow clacking of heels echoed throughout the room, followed by the faint scent of Burberry that invaded your senses. Brief flashes of lecture halls and late night office hour visits intertwined with the smell of cigars and expensive whiskey. Lengthy, heated arguments over the moral justification of various Supreme Court rulings whilst being undressed and pressed against the door. Diamond jewelry and lavish bouquets being delivered to your modest law school apartment as you sheepishly explained to your roommates you were seeing an older woman. Secret rendezvous in dimly lit piano bars in Manhattan which would end in a king size bed in a penthouse you could never dream of affording.

It all led back to the same thought, the same woman you’d done your best to let go of. The very same woman you currently found yourself standing face to face with. Agatha Harkness. Clever blue eyes met yours, and a slow smirk painted her perfect red lips. She hadn’t changed much over the past decade. Her dark hair, now peppered with some gray, was pinned back with a few loose strands framing her face, and you briefly thought of how well it suited her. The fitted black pantsuit which accentuated her features, and black heels that made her look deceptively tall as she towered over you.

For a moment it was as if no time had passed at all, and you were back in her lecture hall. But as quickly as that oddly nostalgic feeling overcame you like a tidal wave, it swept away, leaving you with the reality of the situation. Clearing your throat, you looked past Agatha, keeping your focus on Judge Danvers. “As I was saying. While looking at prior cases involving the abduction of a minor we were able to set a precedent that-”

Agatha let out another cackle, and it took everything in you to not roll your eyes. However it appeared Carol was at the end of her rope with patience, as she banged her gavel twice. “Does the defense have something they wish to share with the rest of us?”

“Your honor,” Agatha drawled out, her voice sweet like honey, “The prosecution is making bold assumptions on precedents that do not directly follow the evidence of this particular case. To rule anything otherwise would be direct defamation to my client.”

“Defamation?” You all but hissed, momentarily forgetting you were in the middle of a courtroom. The answering smirk Agatha gave you only fuelled your fire. “Your honor, the defense is all but negating the direct evidence of the defendant’s guilt. We would like to proceed to trial while throwing out the plea deal.”

Agatha’s shark tooth grin widened, and you had a sneaking suspicion she was baiting you to get a reaction. Typical, as she always prided herself on being ten steps ahead of her opponent. Taking a deep breath, you regained your calm composure. It would do you no good to allow your emotions to take over. That would merely ensure Agatha to have one more victory over you, one more thing she would take away from you. But things were different this time, you weren’t some feeble, naive law student fawning over her professor. The playing field was finally leveled, and it was about time she realized that.

Unfortunately, you forgot Agatha never played fair. You curiously watched her grab two folders from her briefcase, all but tossing one at you whilst handing Carol the other. “While we’re discussing the plea deal your honor, I’ve included additional information regarding my client’s psychiatric evaluation.”

Practically tearing the folder open, your eyes scanned the lengthy documents before landing on something that nearly made you fall over. Before you could get a word in, Agatha continued on. “Due to our country’s ever failing healthcare and medical practices, my client has been unable to receive a proper psychiatric evaluation. Your honor, I am requesting a continuance to this trial until my client can get the help she needs.”

Carol’s focus remained on the papers, an inscrutable expression coloring her features. “I’m granting a one month continuance for the defendant, Wanda Maximoff, to be given a psychiatric evaluation. As long as Miss Maximoff follows the terms of her probation and doesn’t leave the state of New York, we’ll resume this conference one month from today. Thank you to the prosecution and defense, you’re dismissed.”

Not wanting to see the smug smirk on Agatha’s face, you packed up your materials, including the folder Agatha gave you, and did your best to hurry out of the courtroom. It was foolish to think you’d beat Agatha at the game she taught you to play. That’s what it always was to Agatha, a game. It was like everyone around her was playing checkers while she was constructing the most elaborate game of chess known to man. All while she moved you around as whatever piece she desired; because that’s how she viewed you, as an object she could twist and mold to her liking until you outlived your usefulness.

Ignoring the familiar sound of her heels approaching, you drafted a quick email to one of your colleagues with the news of the trial being halted before going to order your Uber. You didn’t have to look up to know Agatha was standing in front of you, because that was just part of her intricate plan. She surely knew you were furious, because of course she did. Hadn’t she once told you she knew everything? At the time you thought it was a cheeky remark to make you laugh, but looking back you came to terms with the fact that the only person Agatha Harkness could ever care for was herself.

You were growing weary of the rising tension, so you finally broke the silence, keeping your eyes locked on your phone. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m not sure,” Agatha replied, and although you weren’t looking at her you could practically feel her gaze burning into you. “I never took you for a sore loser, dear.”

There it was, she was trying to get her claws back in you. Keeping your tone even, you checked on the status of your Uber. “I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to. I’m just doing my job.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, your phone was ripped from your hands. “Hey!” You exclaimed, angrily whipping your head up and your eyes narrowed, meeting the deep blue eyes you used to get lost in. “Give me back my phone.”

“Checking for your ride?” Agatha mocked, arching an eyebrow up at you. “Is that more interesting than talking to me?”

“Watching paint dry would be more interesting than speaking with you,” You retorted, your discomfort quickly growing.

“Now darling, is that any way to speak to me?” Agatha teased, her voice gradually dropping in volume. “It’s been so long.”

Glaring at her, you tried to pry your phone from her hands, but she put it in her back pocket. “And whose fault is that again?” Your voice was laced with venom, you subconsciously wanted to make her feel as badly as you had. “Should we take a stroll down memory lane and recall what caused this?”

Agatha’s gaze hardened at that jab, and you momentarily wondered if you pushed too hard. “I’m surprised you’re leading this case. I thought you wanted to,” she paused and used air quotes, “‘help the voiceless’, not strangle them.”

“How dare you,” You seethed, not caring that your voice was growing in volume. “I’m just doing my job, Agatha. Besides, isn’t strangling the helpless what you do best?”

Agatha tilted her head back, and let out another cackle. “Doing your job? You’re trying to imprison an innocent mother.”

“Your innocent mother kidnapped two minors and took them over state lines,” You fired back, vaguely aware that Agatha was taking small, slow steps towards you.

“She’s still their mother,” Agatha pointed out and you felt your face grow red from rage.

“Regardless of DNA, it was a closed adoption. She waived her parental rights,” You argued, unaware of anything but the infuriating woman standing in front of you. “Surely you’ve been practicing long enough to know how to read a contract.”

“And I thought I taught you to read between the lines of said contracts,” Agatha countered, and you knew she was testing your argument, it’s what she always did. “Things aren’t always black and white, dear.”

No they weren’t, you silently agreed. By this point your back was to the wall of the deserted corridor, Agatha still towering over you. Your faces were practically touching, and you could practically taste her lips. Both of you were panting from the exertion of bickering, and it wouldn’t take much to close the distance. She was so close, closer than she had been to you in so long. Having her back in your orbit, taking over all of your senses, made you forget the reasons you were so angry with her. Instead, it made you remember how many other times you had found yourself in this exact same position.

You could feel your ironclad restraint begin to slip away, and Agatha appeared to notice it as well. She let out a low chuckle as she turned her face to the side, her breath now hot against your ear, and allowing her to whisper, “Looks like it still doesn’t take much to get you riled up, does it?”

Shuddering, you struggled to get your breathing even, thinking of the many reasons why this was a horrible idea. Your history aside, you were on opposing sides of what would most likely be a very public case. It wasn’t just unprofessional to be doing this, it could potentially jeopardize your whole career. But it was hard to think about any of that when you locked eyes with the woman you had spent so much time trying to forget. Her right hand left your waist to push back the loose strands of your hair, tucking them behind your ear.

Each movement was slow, and delicate, and as her fingers slowly trailed down your neck, she gently squeezed, before gradually applying more pressure, and you had to physically restrain yourself from moaning. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs and had to close your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. Agatha’s lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open kisses on your flesh while her fingers began to move lower, cupping your left breast before slowly pinching your nipple. This time you couldn’t stop the quiet moan that left your lips, and Agatha quickly used her free hand to silence you, covering your mouth.

“You always had a problem being quiet,” Agatha murmured, lips still on your skin. “Let’s find somewhere more…secluded to continue this, hm?”

Feeling yourself nod, you opened your eyes and let out a pathetic whine as she let go of you. It didn’t take long to find an empty storage closet, and Agatha practically shoved you inside before slamming the door behind her.

Pressing you against the bare wall, her eyes scanned yours before asking, “Are you sure?”

Being with Agatha like this was the greatest euphoric high, and it always left you wanting more and more. It didn’t have to mean anything, and you certainly didn’t want it to. It was just two people working out their frustrations, right? You nodded again, grabbing her right hand and placing it back around your throat. “Are you going to choke me again or are you too much of a coward?”

She nearly growled at that, and squeezed, a little rougher this time. You pressed your face into her shoulder, trying to silence the noises you always made when she touched you. She had barely started but it was so good, and you didn’t hesitate when she used her free hand to try and remove your blazer. Taking a step back to take off your blouse and bra, you nearly tripped over some boxes, and her hands steadied you.

“Careful,” She lightly teased, eyes still dark from arousal. “I’m not nearly finished with you.”

Her hands skillfully unhooked your bra, carelessly tossing it to the side, before lowering her mouth to your breast, and lewdly sucked. As if she anticipated the noises you’d inevitably make, she roughly pressed two fingers in your open mouth for you to suck. Moaning around them, you eagerly sucked and sucked, thinking of where you wanted her fingers to go next. Agatha’s tongue swirled around your nipple, teasing it enough to make it go erect before using her teeth to pull. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, your last functioning brain cells wondering how she could still have this strong of an effect on you.

She let out a low hum, clearly enjoying this as much as you were before moving to your other breast, only this time she bit down, and the rush of pain and pleasure flooded you. Unable to cry out as she fucked her fingers further down your throat before adding a third, causing you to gag around them. Releasing your breast, Agatha panted out, “Look at how pathetic you are, sucking on my fingers like a good little slut. What a good girl.”

Whimpering around her fingers, you clenched at the filth spewing from her lips. You hated this, how easily she could flip the switch and have you dripping and wanting her to fuck you through the floorboards. Agatha cooed, using her free hand to gently stroke your face, and roughly pulled her fingers out of your mouth. She was face level again, and you watched the gears turn in her head as she weighed out what to do with you. That same free hand cupped your jaw, and she was so close, your brain buzzing from the endorphins. It was so good, you hated how good it was.

Her normally perfectly red lips were stained and parted slightly as she looked at you with an indecipherable stare, and you were still breathless from her earlier ministrations. Before you could fully comprehend what you were doing, you grabbed her hair and smashed your lips together. You swore you heard her groan, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and you had no time to contemplate it as you felt her tongue teasing the entrance of your mouth. It has been so long, so very long, but you fell back into the familiar dance you could never forget.

Everything Agatha did she dominated, for she had such a strong presence that was impossible to ignore. Just kissing her was enough to get you off, as her tongue expertly swirled around yours, sending you further and further from the edge of reality. You were so far gone you barely noticed her hands moving lower, and lower, until they were pawing at your ass. Groping and grabbing, she was insatiable as she conquered your mouth. You broke apart for merely a second and without speaking, you helped get rid of your pants, slightly stunned you were still this in sync after all this time.

But again, you had no time to ponder that thought as Agatha quickly slammed you against the wall, and you couldn’t help but moan at the pain. The same fingers you eagerly sucked on were now teasing your entrance, rubbing gentle, slow circles. Agatha’s breath was hot in your ear, and you whined, trying to thrust your hips up for more friction. You needed more, you needed her more than ever before. Going without for so long was fine, you’d nearly forgotten what it felt like, what she felt like; but the second you remembered you couldn’t bear a second without it.

“Someone’s awfully worked up,” Agatha taunted, her voice softly whispering in your ear. “Did you want something?”

“Agatha…” You breathed out, your voice nearly cracking. “Please…”

Her fingers teased your clit, and the sensation made you cry out, causing Agatha to silence you with yet another kiss. “Behave,” she murmured against your lips, “Do you want me inside you? Do you want me to fill that sweet little cunt?”

Mewling, you again tried to tilt your hips up, desperate to feel her inside you, but her other hand kept you in place. “Agatha, please, I…I need it, please fuck me.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, “I know your brain just melts when that pussy gets wet, but we both know that’s not what you want to call me, is it?” Blushing, you tried to avert your eyes but it was impossible. She nipped at your lips before continuing. “Be a good girl and beg for it.”

“Mommy,” The words slipped past your lips and you felt another rush of heat between your legs while Agatha moaned.

“Good girl,” Agatha praised you, and before you could prepare yourself she roughly entered you with two fingers, filling you completely.

Her fingers were so long and so good, hitting the spots you had trouble reaching. You couldn’t help but clench around them, and she groaned in your ear. Wasting no time, she set a fast and hard rhythm, skillfully fucking you better than anyone else since her had been able to.

“I almost forgot how good your cunt feels around my fingers,” Agatha hissed, nibbling on your ear, “Suck me in, slut.”

Your hips met her fingers, and you desperately chased your orgasm. “Harder, please mommy fuck me harder.”

Putting all of her weight on you, Agatha swiftly added a third finger and you nearly squealed at how full you felt. Her fingers were so deep, and you were so close, so very close to the edge.

“Such a good whore for mommy,” Agatha cooed, and her voice was strained, you could tell she was close too. “Do you want to come on my fingers?”

“Mommy please,” You cried out, unable to focus on anything but wanting to feel her fingers make you come harder than you could ever remember.

Agatha’s hips rested against your knee, and she began riding your leg, chasing her own high. “Come for mommy, baby. Soak my fingers.”

Twisting her fingers and hitting your G-spot again, and again causing you to quickly unravel. Feeling your orgasm coming, you clenched around her fingers, needing her to stay inside you. Your knees buckled and you swore you saw stars, unable to speak as you silently cried out. Agatha came right as you did, grunting in your ear and roughly thrusting against your leg as she came undone.

“Fuck,” She panted, keeping her fingers inside you as you continued to twitched around them. “Good girl, such a good girl for mommy.”

Breathing heavily, you gradually felt yourself come back to Earth. You were drenched with sweat, and you were sure you looked positively debauched. Agatha was staring at you with yet another inscrutable expression on her face, and you felt yourself relaxing around her fingers as she slowly pulled out. You grabbed her hand, and lewdly cleaned her fingers off, watching her eyes darken once more as you made a point to swirl your tongue around them until they were clean.

As your brain fog cleared, you were all too aware of the uncomfortable silence growing around you. With every high that came with being with Agatha, it was almost always followed by an indescribable low. There were so many things you wanted to ask her, so many things you needed to know. Brief flashes of arguments and slamming doors. Dozens of unanswered calls, and late nights spent wondering what you had done wrong to deserve her random outbursts of anger. But with every argument, every heated fight, it would always end the same way; with Agatha pressing you against some surface and having her way with you.

There had been so much more going on at that point than you were aware of, and as the pieces slowly came together, she was too far gone for you to be able to help. You’d begged and pleaded with her, but it never mattered. What was it your therapist had said to you? You couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to help themselves. Letting go of her nearly killed you, and now you made the mistake of opening that door again, knowing how much more complicated it would be. You weren’t just her law student anymore, you were on opposing sides of a trial.

It appeared Agatha was having the same train of thought as you, for she wordlessly helped you find your clothes. In spite of her just being inside you, you made a point of turning around as you got dressed, as the air in the room seemed to drop and any of the warmth that had been there prior had disappeared. There was so much you wanted to say, yet simultaneously wanted to get as far away from her as you could.

Agatha finally broke the silence as she fixed her hair, and she was back to her usual condescending self. “You know you’re wrong pursuing this case, right? It’s not too late to back out.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally grabbed your phone from her back pocket and saw your Uber driver understandably canceled your ride. That would certainly tank your rating. You quickly ordered another before replying with, “You know this meant absolutely nothing to me, right?”

Pushing past her to exit the room, she let out another cackle, the sound like grating nails on a chalkboard in your ears. You knew she wouldn’t follow you, and you were thankful for that. This was an indiscretion, a momentary lapse of judgment. You’ve been on edge with all the extra hours you’ve been working; you weren’t thinking clearly. The courthouse was still relatively empty, and you left the building, trying to get the thought of Agatha out of your mind. Why did she have to be so infuriating?

Your Uber eventually rolled up and as you got in you went to check your work email. It never failed to amaze you how quickly your inbox would fill up when you didn’t check it for more than five minutes. Scrolling through, you vaguely listened to the music your driver had in in the background, until a familiar song started playing. Frank Sinatra, a favorite artist of a certain attorney. The Way You Look Tonight had always been one of her favorites, and you could remember the last time you listened to it together.

Your mind absentmindedly drifted, the memories you’d tried to lock away slowly creeping back up to the surface. It seemed no matter how hard you tried to forget, she didn’t want you to. Settling into your seat, listening to Frank Sinatra, you thought back to the first time you met Agatha, or rather, how you met Professor Harkness.

[flowerandblood]

The Man in the Black Gloves

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: public sex, fingering, smut, angst, threats, sexual tension, domination, violence, mention of the murder ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 1 - The Man with the Black Mask | Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Mouth | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Although the thought of marriage and motherhood had terrified her before her father's death, now, being married at last and hoping to become the mother of her husband-king's children, she understood that it was all just a matter of the person she was to spend her life with.

Her husband, though terrifying and cruel, understood his duty as a husband and as a lover and fulfilled them to the best of his ability. She did not expect sweet words or confessions from him, knowing that they were not in his nature, however, he showed his affection to her in a different way.

Through his actions.

When that insolent woman dared to suggest that she become her husband's mistress in the future, that she would bear his child, she felt disbelief and a sense of betrayal spill over her insides.

She clenched her lips, trying with all her might to hold back the tears of humiliation that appeared under her eyelids.

How dare she?

"Hold her." She heard her husband's cold voice and saw him stand from his throne with a sudden, impatient movement.

"− give me your sword −" He said to Ser Criston in an unobjectionable voice − his guards grabbed the woman under her arms and forced her to kneel before them. She noticed with satisfaction that there was no longer a trace of the certainty of a moment ago on her face.

Her husband was unpredictable, burning like a fire that could not be tamed.

Anyone who tried was doomed to burn.

She listened to her desperate explanations with her lips clenched, pale, begging in her mind that her husband would not change his mind, that he would not let her go after what she had said, allowing her to leave a scar in her heart forever.

The thought that one day they would meet again without her knowledge and her prediction would come true.

A great uproar spread around them, people shouting at each other, until suddenly a blade swished swiftly in front of her − the woman who had just stood before them was deprived of her head, which rolled down the stairs to the stone floor with a thud.

"Her every breath would be an insult to my Queen. Let this be a lesson to anyone who tries to plot against her. Guards, lock Lord Ronwell in the dungeons until she decides what to do with him." He said lowly, with some kind of regret towards himself for allowing such a situation to happen.

He looked at her with a calmness in his eye, a conviction that he had done the right thing, that whatever this woman had predicted would never come true.

Once again, he made her feel an overwhelming sense of relief, like when she saw her mother and learned that she was alive.

She thought, looking at him with parted lips, feeling sweet throbbing between her thighs, that she would give him everything, would drown with him in her blood, would not let him carry the burden of this sin alone.

He did it for her.

Never before had she come as hard as she had that evening, feeling the tart taste of blood in her mouth as he slammed into her with quick, brutal thrusts of his hips, stretching her weeping cunt with his fat, swollen cock, aroused as much as she was.

She couldn't even remember when she reached her peak, feeling that she almost screamed with pleasure along with him.

She sighed quietly as she felt his hot seed finally spill inside her, feeling only fulfilment, only peace.

"− good gods − are you all right? −" He asked uncertainly, horrified surely as she was at how brutal and sacrilegious this closeness was.

She felt ashamed at the thought that she hadn't been this relaxed in a long time.

She heard him sigh out loud as she nodded her head, his large, rough hand stroking lightly her soft buttock.

"Let's take a bath." He suggested and she nodded again, completely without strength.

They undressed slowly when they were left alone with the steaming tub filled with pleasantly warm water. She dipped her feet into it first and then sat between his legs, resting her wet back against his chest, laying her head on his shoulder. She heard him hum quietly, feeling his fingers combing through her hair in a tender gesture.

They lay like this in silence, calming down at last, fingertips of his free hand trailing thoughtfully over her bare body making her feel goosebumps.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked her suddenly, startling her completely − his voice quiet and uncertain, on the verge of a whisper.

She lifted her face higher, twisting with a quiet splash of water, wanting to look at him, raising her fingers to his cheek and running them over his skin.

"No." She replied softly, warmly, his hand combing through her hair with a light, musing gesture.

"I tried to kill you." He said lowly, as if merely stating a fact that he felt should concern her.

"Then why am I still alive?" She asked tracing her fingers along his chin, cupping her nose against his cheek. She heard him snort under his breath.

She didn't have to look at him to know that an amused grin was painted on his face.

She felt his hand trace a circle over her lower abdomen, massaging her warm skin under the water, knowing that all he was thinking now was the fact that she was filled with his spend.

Neither of them said anything more.

They conveyed most of the things to each other without words. She felt that he was able to express more with his hands than with his mouth, his fingers combing through her hair, stroking her naked body at night showing her what he felt, what he desired.

They both knew how empty and worthless words could be.

After what had happened to Alys Rivers, no woman dared to even attempt to come close to her husband anymore. She decided to show mercy to the lord who had brought her before them and was plotting against her, knowing that if her husband killed him, his whole family would turn against him.

She knew that the whole court had witnessed what would befall those who would try to come between them.

She found with amusement that they did not understand where their attachment and affection came from, thinking that it had a purely physical undertone that could always pass when someone more beautiful or more tempting appeared on the horizon.

Their marriage, however, was primarily based on how deeply they were bonded by their pasts, how they experienced things similarly, sunk in darkness, coming out at night to haunt the castle's inhabitants like ghosts.

She had the impression that there was a disturbing aura around them, that people feared them not only because of their power, but also because of that hint of madness they saw in their eyes.

After a time of war and unrest, her husband's lords advised him to take advantage of the fact that the new year was approaching, to use the date as a break from the past and to allow celebrations in the fortress as well as throughout the kingdom.

"Do you think it's appropriate? To hold a carnival and balls for chattels and drunkard lords?" He asked, sitting stretched out in his chair, obviously unconvinced by the idea, yet realising that his cool nature may have overlooked some of his subjects' needs, which did not mean that they were not important.

"The people have at last regained their King, peace has prevailed. Even though you won't do it, they want to move on and forget what happened eight years ago, begin again. Let them enjoy themselves, give them a day full of wine, bread and dances, let them decorate their town and enjoy themselves as they wish." She said softly, looking at him with a gentle gaze. He sighed heavily, massaging his forehead with his hand.

"Am I supposed to sit for hours behind a table and watch them make fools of themselves?" He asked impatiently, and she pressed her lips together, approaching him slowly with the quiet rustling of her gown.

"Arrange for it to be a masked ball. Let's blend in with the crowd. Don't we also have reason to celebrate, my husband?"

To her surprise, after much thought, he agreed to her proposal. His lords accepted his decision with relief, themselves apparently looking for an opportunity at long last to get out of the stress and sacrifice they had put in to help him regain his throne.

None of them told each other what they would wear or when they would appear in the throne room, recognising that it would spoil everything. She ordered that a matte, soft black gown be prepared for her, with a cut neckline with exposed shoulders and back, bold and unworthy of a queen or true lady.

She wore a black mask over her face, sheathed in a material identical to that of her gown, her dark hair loose. She did not put on any jewellery − she liked the simplicity and at the same time shamelessness of this attire.

She thought that this night she was not a Queen, she was not a lady but a shadow, a phantom, a mist, something intangible, something she had always wanted to be.

As she left her chamber she was immediately struck by the sounds of violin and flute music, loud conversations and laughter. She turned into the corridor and noticed hundreds of people discussing with each other, each of them disguised, masks over their faces.

She noted with satisfaction that no one bowed to her, that no one paid any attention to her, that she was like air.

She felt a sudden rush of adrenaline, a sense of empowerment and impunity at the same time.

She stepped into the main hall, which was the throne room, looking at the couples dancing in the centre of it − lovers for just one night pressed their bodies close to the walls, enjoying the time they were given as best they could, knowing that tomorrow they would have to return to their husbands and wives.

They all had goblets filled to the brim with wine − she could smell the roasts, soups and breads from the tables around her.

It seemed to her that she had joined some temple of promiscuity and splendour, her heart pounding like mad.

She walked unhurriedly among the crowds of people, gazing intently at their fanciful costumes, eavesdropping on their conversations, listening with amusement as the apparent anonymity gave the court's inhabitants the courage to speak their minds about her and her husband.

"I once passed by our King's chambers at night. There were such noises coming from it that I thought they were both dying in agony." Said a woman with light hair pinned up in a bun, her mask and gown blue, adorned with gold threads.

"She is a witch. As a traitor's daughter, she certainly has her ways of deceiving the King's mind." The other woman, younger, replied − she seemed to recognise in her the daughter of one of the lords who had strenuously tried for weeks to stumble upon her husband in the crown's library, wishing to seduce him.

"They are both mad." She hummed to them with amusement, and saw that they looked at her, trying in the semi-darkness to recognise who she might have been, but she did not let them stare at her and moved on, looking thoughtfully at the dancing pairs.

She was surprised to hear someone moaning behind her, and spotted a couple who were clearly just having a rapture with each other − both of them pressed up against the wall, hidden in the shadows, apparently hoping that no one would interrupt their obviously wonderful delight.

She smiled under her breath, turning her face away − she felt a throbbing between her thighs at the thought that her husband might take her in the same way this evening, in front of everyone.

She almost laughed at the thought that perhaps these prudish ladies would recognise them and their moans.

"My Lady." She shuddered when heard someone whisper behind her, masculine and low, pleasantly throaty. She did not turn towards him, looking ahead.

"You caught my attention right away. That beautiful back." The man muttered, running his fingers over her exposed skin − she felt a pleasant shiver, but did not bestow a single glance on him.

"I have to dance with you, my Lady, because I swear I'm going to lose my mind."

She lifted her chin higher and hummed, considering his words.

"We have enough madness in this stronghold so I am afraid I must prevent your downfall and agree, my Lord." She said, extending her hand to him − he took it respectfully and led her towards the spinning pairs.

She hadn't done it for months and never in this way and this man, whoever he was, was an excellent dancer.

He dared to shamelessly place his hand on her bare back and only then did she lift her warning gaze to him; his hair was dark and curly, reaching his shoulders, he was well built and tall.

She saw that he parted his lips when he saw a small part of her face, her eyes, lips and chin emerging from under her black mask, looking at her as if his breath had been taken away.

"Tell me you don't have a husband." He choked out between one turn and the next, their hands meeting in another movement.

"I have a husband, my Lord, and I am a faithful wife." She said softly − the man licked his lower lip, leaning over her, only to take a few steps away from her, their hands touching again.

"Is that so?" He murmured defiantly, and she smiled, amused, feeling herself throbbing at the thought that her king, her husband might have just watched her from afar, might have recognised her, might have been furious with jealousy.

That he might have wanted to kill this brazen man.

"Mmm. I would be careful if I were you, my Lord. My husband is dangerous. He is a breathing death." She whispered, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart at that thought, feeling with excitement that she was wet, her fleshy walls pulsing around nothing.

"I don't fear death. What I fear for is that I will never see you again." He said when the music ended, applause echoed around them, even though he should have done so, he didn't let go of her hand.

"You can be sure of that." She hummed with amusement, taking her hand and turning away from him, disappearing into the crowd.

She heard his desperate calls behind her and laughed, feeling like a mermaid who was leading an innocent young man to be devoured by a monster.

She was hot and walked over to the table to pour herself some wine, however the steel gilded jug was heavy and she had trouble lifting it. She shuddered and gasped when someone stopped right behind her, a large hand dressed in a black leather glove took it from her and filled her goblet halfway.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my Lady?" She heard a cold, deep, familiar voice behind her, a powerful shiver of desire passed through her − she involuntarily parted her lips feeling the unbearable pulsing of her walls and lifted her cup to her lips, taking a deep sip from it.

"Yes, my Lord." She replied innocently, feeling his hot breath on her neck, his dark, dangerous, sinister aura.

"Dance with me."

She felt her heart stop for a moment and swallowed loudly, turning over her shoulder.

A tear-stained mask on his face, a hood on his head.

He looked like one of her father's ghosts.

Vhagar.

He held out his hand to her and she placed hers on it, allowing him to guide her between the couples spinning to the rhythm of the music.

She felt stunned by his scent and his presence − if a moment ago she had been a cruel siren longing to devour, now she longed to be devoured, wanted to burn in the fire of his wrath, to die in the embrace of his arms if that was his wish.

As they made a turn their hands clasped tightly over their bodies; they were far too close to each other to consider their dance decent, however this night no one paid any attention to such things, his gaze from under the transparent black material cold and distant.

"Do you enjoy balancing on the edge of life and death, my Lady?" He asked low, his voice like ice, like a sharp blade − her pink lips swollen with desire parted slightly, droplets of sweat on her bare arms as they spun around each other, their hands touching.

"Yes." She whispered and heard him hum, as if he accepted her answer.

She felt overwhelmed, at the same time knowing who was behind the mask, yet being able to pretend that it was a complete stranger, a phantom who wanted to kill her, rip her entrails apart.

They didn't take their eyes off each other for the entire dance − there was something sensual in their movements, his gloved hand barely touching her bare back, she felt like she was about to die of lust.

She wanted him to do this to her, and he knew it, he could see it in her eyes.

When the music silenced they bowed to each other. She immediately headed towards the crowd, glancing at him meaningfully over her shoulder, watching to see if he would follow her. She stopped only at the wall, with nowhere else to go, her face illuminated only by the flame of a torch hanging nearby.

He walked towards her with a calm, lazy, firm step, like an executioner, like a judge, like a sentence to be imposed on her. She moaned as he turned her violently towards the wall, immediately pushing against her, she felt his hardness pressed against her buttocks.

"Whore." He hissed, she parted her lips and mewled, feeling her moist core throb around nothing, her cheek pressed against the wall, her fingers clenched helplessly on the cold stone.

She heard him pull off his gloves and throw them on the floor − one of his hands grabbed her neck and forced her to arch back and buck up, the other with an impatient, rough movement lifted the material of her gown at the front, slipping immediately between her thighs, they both groaned low with pleasure when he felt how wet she was.

"− what happened here? − hm? − fuck − all sticky −" He breathed out between her helpless, sweet moans, his fingertips spreading her moisture all over her womanhood, digging deeply into her skin around her pearl, teasing her with circular, sure strokes, involuntarily her hips began to rub against his hard cock hidden in his breeches behind her.

"− oh − oh gods, yes −" She mumbled dulled by how pleasurable it was − she heard him chuckle lowly behind her, his other hand clasped tighter around her neck. She squirmed as his finger tentatively slid inside her, only teasing her slit.

"− look at him − look at him when you fuck yourself with my fingers −" He growled and she obeyed his command, looking at the man who only a moment ago was ready to ask her to marry him − he stood in the distance looking at them in disbelief, his lips slightly parted.

She moaned, responding with her hips to his strokes when she realised that he must have imagined he was in the place of that black hooded figure standing behind her.

"− does your husband fuck you too rarely? − doesn't he stretch you well with his cock? − hm? −" He snarled, sliding his finger in and out deeper and deeper, pressing and rubbing again and again the wonderful spot hidden between her fleshy walls.

"− I − mghmm −" She mumbled out feeling that she was about to come, panting loudly along with him, his hips rubbing aggressively against her buttocks.

"− let's show him what duty a husband has to his wife −" He exhaled, sliding his finger out of her, his hand wet with her juices lifted her gown up.

She felt a chill wash over her exposed buttocks − there was music and loud conversations all around them, everyone could see what they were doing and although they weren't the only ones, the thought that it was happening right now and this way, made her legs tremble.

She heard him quickly undo the clasp of his coat, covering her with his body, not allowing anyone but him to see her womanhood, all swollen and wet with her moisture. She squirmed when she felt his freed, hard erection hit her bare skin, his fingers spreading her folds before him as the fat head of his cock pressed against her slit from below.

He opened her wide with one simple, sharp thrust, slamming into her like mad, his hand clamped around her neck forcing her to lean back more − she could feel his hot breath against her ear despite his mask.

"− look at him − he's fucking himself with his hand while looking at my wife − at my − fucking − wife −" He growled sinisterly, infuriated, rooting into her quickly and brutally, with each thrust of his hips forcing her sore, fleshy muscles to barely fit him in, his thick, swollen cock rubbing her so wonderfully that a cry broke from her lips − even if she wanted to she couldn't see anyone anymore, her gaze and mind clouded from pleasure.

"− you know he's already dead, don't you? − ah − would you want him to touch you before he died? − for him to root his cock deep inside you just for once? −" He hissed out between aggressive, deep thrusts, pounding into her with a loud slapping of flesh against flesh, both of them panting desperately, her body responding to his every move with rocking her hips.

"− n-no − your seed − I want it inside me −" She babbled with difficulty between her whimpers and his thrusts from which her whole body trembled − she heard his low groan of surprise and delight, his cock throbbing hard inside her, feeling her walls clench around him greedily.

"− beg − fucking beg −" He growled pounding it into her so hard that her pleasure was on the verge of pain − she cried out loudly sensing that a few more of his movements and she would come, feeling that wonderful tickle in her lower abdomen every time the tip of his cock rubbed against her upper wall again.

"− please − please, husband, have mercy − fill your faithful wife −" She mewled pleadingly, despairingly, pathetically, thinking only of the fact that she wanted him to come inside her, that she wanted to feel his spend trickling down her thighs when she looked again at this insolent man.

"− faithful? − you let him touch you − your bare skin that belongs to me − fuck − you don't deserve this grace −" He mocked licking his lips loudly, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with a loud click of her wetness with each ruthless thrust of his hips.

"− p-please − oh − oh gods, m close −" She mumbled out in delight and parted her lips in shock as a powerful wave of pleasure surged through her body again, again and again.

She clenched her eyes shut moaning shamelessly − she heard him gasp lowly, pounding into her faster, panting heavily, his cock twitching all over inside her.

"− fucking take it − take it-take it-take it −" He growled rooting it into her so hard that her throbbing walls forced him to let go and at last he filled her with himself with a sigh of relief, rocking his hips inside her for a while longer, several couples standing near them looked at them in disbelief.

She squirmed with despair when she felt him slide out of her − he tied his breeches quickly and lowered her gown with an impatient flick of his hand, covering her buttocks and thighs where his seed was trickling down. She saw out of the corner of her eye that he had moved forward, between the crowd.

She sank to the floor, panting heavily, her face hot from the exertion huddled against the cold wall, her heart pounding like mad.

She saw that those around her were looking at her and she wondered if they recognised her.

After a moment, she rose as if nothing had happened and moved towards her husband's chamber, stepping inside without a word, slipping her black gown off her shoulders, lying on his bed with only her black mask over her face, her thighs sticky from their mingled moisture.

She lay in the dim candlelight as he stepped into his chamber − her attention immediately drawn to the fact that he had no mask, his hood slipped from his head, his hands all covered in blood.

With a calm, nonchalant movement, he approached the table and undid the buckles of his cloak, dropping it to the ground, sinking his hands into a bowl of water, washing them thoroughly of the sticky red.

"Has my wife enjoyed her evening?"

"Yes, my King." She whispered softly, lying on her back, one of her legs bent at the knee swinging slightly from side to side, her hands placed on either side of her head.

"Mmm."

"I warned him that I have a husband and that I am an obedient, faithful wife. That this was the last day of his life. But he didn't listen." She whispered, looking at him with her lips slightly parted, knowing that they were both mad, that she shouldn't feel such heat at the thought that he was so sickly jealous of her.

And yet.

"Mmm, no need to fret about it anymore, my love. He will never bother you again."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[anniebeemine]

I'd love a reader that rivals Rossi in food, like they were a chef before they joined the BAU so they cook like a dream so whenever Rossi hosts his dinners he always invited reader into the kitchen but kicks everyone else out, but spencer keeps hovering around the kitchen door just admiring reader while she works and laughs with Rossi. And Rossi eventually asks if they're together and the reader is just a mess since they have such a big crush.

Eventually with Rossi's meddling which Garcia and Derek join they gor together and time skip to where reader hosts a dinner in the shared place with spencer?

I hope this is what you were looking for. I got a little carried away, but I looooove the idea

“A chef?” 

You nodded, swallowing your last sip of coffee. “Yeah. I went through college, got my master’s in psych and all th-” 

Penelope butted in, practically on the edge of her seat. “Yeah, but how did you get to chef?” 

“I’m getting there!” You laughed, leaning into the desk. “Had a breakup, completely lost my sense of self and decided to do culinary school for two years. So after that, I worked on my doctorate while moonlighting at a five star restaurant.” 

Penelope's eyes widened as she processed your story, her excitement barely contained. "Wait, hold on—so you were studying for your doctorate and working at a five-star restaurant at the same time?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you remembered those whirlwind years. "Yep. It was pretty intense, but I found a weird sense of balance in it. During the day, I was buried in research and papers, and by night, I was perfecting my knife skills and plating dishes."

Emily leaned in, her expression a mix of admiration and curiosity. "That’s amazing, but why culinary school? I mean, that’s such a shift from psychology."

Penelope's eyes widened as she processed your story, her excitement barely contained. "Wait, hold on—so you were studying for your doctorate and working at a five-star restaurant at the same time?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you remembered those whirlwind years. "Yep. It was pretty intense, but I found a weird sense of balance in it. During the day, I was buried in research and papers, and by night, I was perfecting my knife skills and plating dishes."

Emily leaned in, her expression a mix of admiration and curiosity. "That’s amazing, but why culinary school? I mean, that’s such a shift from psychology."

You shrugged, a bit of nostalgia creeping into your tone. "After that breakup, I felt lost, like I didn’t know who I was anymore. I needed something completely different, something that would challenge me in a new way. Cooking became that outlet. It was therapeutic—creating something from scratch, the precision, the creativity... It helped me find myself again."

Penelope gasped. “You and Rossi should make us a dinner- I mean, I’ll help but Rossi says I change the recipes too much and-”

You laughed, imagining the scene. "I can see that! Rossi probably has everything down to a science, and you’re just like, ‘Let’s add a little of this, a little of that,’ huh?"

Penelope nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! But your culinary skills combined with his... oh, it would be a feast for the ages!"

Emily smirked, joining in on the fun. "We’d be in for a real treat. Maybe we could have a team dinner where you both cook, and the rest of us just sit back and enjoy the masterpieces."

You grinned, the idea of cooking with Rossi actually sounding like a lot of fun. “Set it up and then tell me when to be there.” 

+++

You stood next to Rossi, hand on your hip and hair tied back, listening intently as he walked you through the steps of his famous risotto recipe. The kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of simmering stock and sautéing onions, and the hum of activity around you felt both comforting and exciting.

"Now, the key to a perfect risotto," Rossi said, stirring the pot with a practiced hand, "is patience. You can't rush this. It's all about slowly adding the broth, letting the rice absorb it, and coaxing out that creamy texture."

You nodded, absorbing every word. "Got it. Slow and steady wins the race."

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with the shared understanding of someone who knew the intricacies of the culinary world. "Exactly. It’s like life, you know? You’ve got to give it time, let things unfold naturally."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words. Cooking with Rossi was more than just following a recipe; it was an experience, a chance to learn not just about food, but about the philosophy behind it. You reached for the ladle, ready to add the next bit of broth, when Rossi placed a hand on your shoulder.

"You’ve got a good feel for this," he remarked, his voice carrying a tone of approval. "I can tell you’ve spent some time in the kitchen."

"Thanks," you replied, feeling a bit of pride. "It’s been a while since I’ve done anything this involved, but it’s like riding a bike, right? You don’t really forget."

"Exactly," Rossi agreed, nodding. "And with your background, I’m sure you appreciate the therapeutic side of it. There’s something calming about the process, especially when you’re making something for others."

You glanced around the kitchen, where Penelope was bustling about, setting the table with Emily’s help. You could hear the distant sound of laughter from the rest of the team, who were eagerly awaiting the meal. "Yeah," you said softly, "there really is."

As you finished setting the last touches on the risotto with Rossi, you noticed Spencer lingering in the doorway of the kitchen. His eyes were fixated on the tray of cupcakes you had meticulously decorated earlier that day. Each one was a small work of art, adorned with delicate swirls of frosting and tiny edible flowers. You could tell he was fighting the urge to sneak one before dinner.

"Ah-ah," you tutted playfully, waving a hand to shoo him away. "Not until after dinner."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief, but he backed off as instructed. It was rare to see him so visibly relaxed, especially with the whole team around. Tonight, though, he seemed content, his usual tension replaced with something softer, more at ease.

Dinner passed with the usual banter and camaraderie that you had come to cherish. The risotto was a hit, and you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as your team enjoyed the meal you'd helped prepare. Spencer, though typically one to join in the conversation, was uncharacteristically quiet, his focus seemingly on the food in front of him. Every now and then, you'd catch him stealing glances at the cupcakes again, a small smile playing on his lips.

When the meal was over and the plates were being cleared, you began to gather your things, ready to call it a night. You were wiping down the counter when you felt Spencer’s presence behind you. Turning, you found him standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze shifting from the cupcakes to you.

"How did you make those cupcakes?" he asked, his voice soft, almost shy.

You opened your mouth to respond, ready to dive into the details of the recipe, when Derek sauntered up behind Spencer, clapping him on the shoulder. "Look at this, Pretty Boy’s turning into quite the baker," he teased, grinning widely. "But seriously, you should show him how you did it. Guy's a fast learner, and I'm sure he'd pick it up in no time."

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a light pink at Derek’s words, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. But before you could process his reaction, your excitement got the better of you. "I’d love to show you, Spence!" you said enthusiastically, your eyes lighting up at the thought. "We can set up a little baking session, and I’ll walk you through the whole process. It’s a date!"

His eyes snapped back up to meet yours, the blush deepening on his cheeks, but his smile was wide and genuine. "I’d really like that," he said, his tone sincere, a mixture of happiness and something else—something deeper, almost like gratitude.

"Great!" you replied, already thinking of the best time to get together and which other recipes you might try. "We’ll pick a day soon, and I’ll make sure you become a cupcake master."

Spencer squeaked out a quiet "thanks," his usual composure cracking just enough to reveal a hint of nervousness. He quickly shuffled away from the kitchen, his shoulders slightly hunched as if trying to disappear into the background.

Rossi, who had been silently observing the exchange from a distance, leaned in closer, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "It’s a date?" he teased, his voice low and filled with amusement as he watched Spencer retreat through the doorway.

You felt your cheeks warm, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement bubbling up inside you. Turning away, you pretended to wipe an already clean spot on the counter, trying to hide the grin that threatened to spread across your face. "Shush," you muttered, your voice carrying a playful lilt. "It’s just cupcakes."

Rossi chuckled softly, clearly not buying your nonchalant act. "Sure, just cupcakes," he echoed.

+++

“Thank you to everyone for coming to our engagement dinner.” Spencer set the small platter of cupcakes down. He quickly swatted Derek’s hand away. “As you all know, our first date included teaching me how to make these.” 

Spencer carefully set the small platter of cupcakes down on the table, each one a labor of love that he had poured his heart into. The cupcakes weren’t perfect—the frosting swirled a bit unevenly, and a few were slightly lopsided—but they were a far cry from his first attempt. You remembered that first dozen vividly, laughing as more frosting ended up on both of you (and the sheets) than on the cupcakes themselves. 

"Thank you to everyone for coming to our engagement dinner," Spencer said, his voice warm and sincere as he addressed the room. A proud smile lit up his face, but as soon as Derek’s hand reached for one of the cupcakes, Spencer was quick to swat it away, drawing a few chuckles from the gathered friends and family.

“As you all know,” he continued, his gaze moving to you, “our first date included teaching me how to make these.”

You returned his smile, your heart swelling with affection as you looked at the cupcakes and then back at Spencer. The memory of that first date was still so fresh in your mind—the awkwardness, the laughter, the way he had concentrated so hard on getting the recipe just right. You had teased him mercilessly, but by the end of it, you’d both been covered in flour and frosting, happier than you could remember being in a long time. 

“Now, my beautiful fiancee has allowed me to make them on my own.” 

You reached out and gently took one of the cupcakes, holding it up as if to toast with it. "They’re perfect, Spence," you said softly, the sincerity in your voice unmistakable.

Spencer’s smile widened, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, sharing a silent understanding of everything these cupcakes represented. He had come a long way from that first awkward attempt in the kitchen, just as your relationship had grown from tentative beginnings to this moment of celebration.

With a playful wink, Derek finally managed to snag a cupcake, taking a big bite. "Not bad, Pretty Boy," he said with a grin, his words muffled by the mouthful of cake. 

As everyone began to savor the cupcakes, the room filled with appreciative hums and murmurs of approval. The compliments came in bursts, each one warming Spencer’s heart. Emily commented on how the frosting was the perfect balance of sweet, while Rossi praised the moistness of the cake. Even Penelope, who was notorious for her sweet tooth, gave Spencer an enthusiastic thumbs-up as she savored each bite.

You couldn’t help but beam with pride, watching Spencer soak in the praise. He had worked so hard, and seeing everyone enjoy his creations was the perfect reward.

It wasn’t until JJ took a bite of her cupcake that the room’s energy shifted slightly. Her eyes widened in surprise as she turned her cupcake in her hand, revealing the pink frosting center. “Oh my God!” she gasped, her gaze flicking to Will, who was sitting beside her as she showed him.

Will’s eyes jumped from JJ to you, then down to his own cupcake, which he quickly bit into. A look of realization dawned on his face as he too discovered the dollop of pink frosting.

A chorus of small cheers and exclamations filled the room as the others followed suit, discovering the surprise inside their cupcakes. Penelope practically squealed with delight, and even Rossi looked impressed as he held up his cupcake to examine the pink filling.

“What’s this about, you two?” Emily asked, her eyes darting between you and Spencer with a knowing smile.

Before you could respond, Spencer pulled you close to his side, his arm wrapping around your waist. He looked down at you with a soft smile, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just a little something extra,” he said casually, but the excitement in his voice was unmistakable.

You laughed, the joy in the room infectious. As Spencer lifted his own cupcake, he tapped it gently against your nose, leaving a small dollop of frosting on the tip. “Hey!” you giggled, wiping it off with your finger, but before you could retaliate, Spencer took a big bite of his cupcake, savoring the sweetness.

The room erupted in playful laughter and teasing, the hidden surprise in the cupcakes adding an extra layer of celebration to the evening. Spencer held you close as everyone continued to enjoy the cupcakes, his heart swelling with happiness at how perfectly everything had turned out.

Leaning into Spencer, you whispered just for him to hear, “You did good, Spence. Really good.”

He kissed the top of your head, his voice tender as he replied, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 236: Go South—JJK is generational

Gosh. Can we pleeeease just like... have a moment of silence for the one and only...THE Man, Gojo Satoru.

Ok, time's up.

Moving on.

Word vomit under the cut.

The process of reading this chapter was a very interesting one this week because the fandom got really noisy as soon as the leaks dropped.

Between allegations of bad writing and the utter sense of grief Gojo fans were expressing, it was quite the 💩 storm.

And then the actual scanlations started dropping, and little by little they replaced most of the noise with the utter sense of calm and peace and satisfaction that Gojo felt in his last moments in this plane of existence.

I gotta say that I just absolutely loved how Gege depicted those emotions (outside of Gojo's "dream") through shots of the devastated Shinjuku district.

The remnants of the battle of The Strongest, as if the landscape and the buildings themselves represented the end of an era, the devastation of the structure of Jujutsu society itself.

After all, as The Strongest sorcerer in the modern era, Gojo represented the very system he was trying to destroy.

Gege loves his irony.

Now, I would normally say that the words in the speech bubbles are superfluous because Gege creates such a beautiful atmosphere through the setting alone. But it is the words themselves that re-contextualize not just the battle, but also shed more light on Sukuna's interest in Megumi, which I feel we haven't seen the extent of what he had in mind.

Now I'm hoping this isn't a dream

Listen, I must admit I've never cared for Gojo.

I don't hate him, I don't love him, I simply never really cared for him.

That, of course, changed with this chapter.

And it is perhaps Gojo's death that really solidified in my mind the idea that one of the underlying themes in jjk is... dun dun dun... DEATH.

Yeah, I know. Sue me, I'm late to the party lmao.

But it's not just death itself that is a theme, but rather the face we put on when death comes knocking at the door.

There aren't many things that we can be certain of in this life, but death is one of them. So how we confront death and our mortality shapes the sense of self.

I know a lot of people were dissatisfied with the transition from 235 to 236 and Gege not showing how/when Gojo got slashed in half, but I find the abrupt transition makes sense, and I even dare say was... quite poetic.

For one, now knowing that Gojo knew Sukuna was holding back, a lot of incidents throughout the battle are given new meaning. Like that look of confidence on Gojo's face as he "thinks" he's finally managed to "get through" to Sukuna.

So I have to say that I loved that Gege starts the chapter with Gojo becoming aware that he has died or is dying.

In other words, Sukuna's attack was so sudden that Gojo's next moment of awareness as "Gojo Satoru" is in what we would normally think of as "the light at the end of the tunnel" where he is greeted by people who were of significance to him in his youth.

And can we please just talk about how Geto is the first person he sees when he becomes aware that he is dying?

Please. This is fucking poetry!

Insert keyboard smash.

Screaming in jjk.

Go South

I literally lack the words to explain why I love this whole chapter so much. Which is a lot to say because I am about to word vomit about it. But like...

Again, hindsight is 20/20.

I always thought of the panel above as Geto being jealous of Gojo surpassing him in strength but, in retrospect, I think Geto's disappointment had more to do with Gojo's sense of self over-identifying with the title "the strongest" and how that made him harder to relate to, which is one of the main themes in this chapter. I'll come back to this in a sec.

But first...

Quick depth psych segway. I think I've said this before, but it bears repeating again that an overwhelming sense of self is all ego. There's nothing wrong with ego per se.

The problem is that an over-identification with ego means inherent separateness because, as an organ of the psyche, the ego sense of self is what gives us a separate identity from the collective.

On the other hand, soul/heart (another organ in the psyche) is the principle of relatedness--love, the single energy that can bring us all together as a collective.

But as we already know, the stronger the sorcerer, the more overwhelming the sense of self.

Unfortunately, because an overwhelming sense of self = separateness, this also means the person in question can't relate to others.

And is this not thematically perfect for a sorcerer whose perfected cursed technique was meant to render others unable to "reach him"?

In other words, Gojo saw himself as separate (because he was "The Strongest") and that made it harder for him to relate to others, but only because he self-identified as "The Strongest".

Infinity ∞, in this sense, is also about the self-fulfilling prophecy Gojo was stuck playing out in his life in regards to seeing himself as "The Strongest".

But like a serpent eating its own tail, Gojo came back full circle, and in the moments before his death, learned that what really mattered to him was not strength for the sake of strength, but rather the connections he had fostered with others.

PLEASE. GEGE. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKING FUCK?!!!!!!!!!!!

To bring it back to "Satoru became 'The Strongest'"...

I just loved so much that seeing Geto as soon as he becomes aware he's died felt like an encounter that meant Gojo had returned to the person he was before he self-identified as "The Strongest".

But more importantly, Gojo's imagination of himself as back when he was young also speaks both to how much he cherished that period of his life, and to how he was emotionally frozen in time due to his encounter with Toji.

It makes me wonder whether Gojo was afraid of dying alone when Toji almost killed him. So it's almost like what he took away from that battle was that he was always alone, and so he sought to push others away.

The kicker is that he simultaneously feared his existential isolation and yet craved the very source of his fear--human relations.

But in choosing self-preservation, he was a selfish to the very end.

What an idiot (tragically affectionate).

Anyways. How much of this is hc? Someone tell me please 😂. I feel like I went off the deep end in the last few paragraphs.

Like everyone else in this fandom I've lost all objectivity when it comes to Gojo because his departure from the story was truly one of the most heartbreaking moments in jjk.

I understand people's complaints about the "execution," but I think the world-wide phenomena that Gojo's death has spurred speaks to Gege's ability to elicit deeply archetypal emotional responses as a story teller.

With Gojo's death, a part of our own psyche too has died. And what's most significant about this death is that it was, true to Gojo's character, "something that needed to die because it represented the very thing it sought to destroy."

And this would be why I love Gege's writing.

A fitting way for Gojo to go out

I know not everyone agrees, but I really appreciated that he was satisfied and at peace in the very end.

He got his cake (battle to death with Sukuna) and got to eat it too (reconnected with his loved ones).

Sukuna

But we can't talk about Gojo without talking about Sukuna as the one who liberated Gojo from the burden of his existential isolation.

Sukuna gave Gojo a fun battle, but if it weren't because Sukuna figured out how to cut through Gojo's metaphorical defenses by learning to cut through space-time itself--the very fabric of reality, Gojo might not have found his humanity once again.

The outcome of this battle spells out in no uncertain terms how dire the situation is as Sukuna has proven himself to be the uncontested "Strongest".

But in a sense, the end is a new beginning, and this time, there is no light at the end of the tunnel.

JJK is generational

I get the feeling that everyone will remember where they were when this panel dropped.

I was in bed. It was 6 am and Tasokare, my miniature panther, was demanding attention.

A moot was on the way to the gym. They never made it out of the house after seeing the panel.

Another moot was completely avoiding Twitter to avoid leaks, but her brother, who does not even read jjk, saw the panel on Facebook and showed it to her.

Yet another moot was on vacation at the beach.

JJK is generational like that and there's just so much more I can say about this chapter and its implications (like the idea that Sukuna can now cut through space-time, why?! what does he want to get out of this ability?), but I just don't even know what more I can say right now.

Anyways, thanks for reading. I'm looking forward to any thoughts you might have. Just a heads up, I'm very, very slow at replying.

[leighsartworks216]

Death Bed

Julian Devorak x gn!Reader/Apprentice

I transcribed almost an entire chapter of Julain's route just for this 💀 I want the Apprentice to react more when they find out they died. Like, THEY DIED let them cry about it

Title from "death bed (ft. beabadoobee)" by Powfu

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, crying, mental breakdown, coming to terms with dying, death, spoilers for Julian's route

Word Count: 1,395

Masterlist

AO3

“So… um, so.” Julian shifts a book in line with the rest, fiddles with the fraying edge of the spine, and slides it back out to shift the order around some more. “Well, it worked. I met the Hanged Man, got the rest of my memories back, got my cure, and…” 

He scratches mindlessly at the pressed together pages, brow furrowing. It’s like he wants to look over, but knows doing so would make what he wants to say even harder.

“Listen, uh, just stay calm and listen to me, okay? I found out that… that…”

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again, before he bites his lip.

You take in a quiet breath. “That you knew me… and I died?”

His head whips up in a flash. Wide eyes stare at you. “Wh… How did…? I was psyching myself up to tell you that and you already knew?”

You could almost laugh at his shock. At the look on his face.

But a waver at the back of your throat prevented anything as joyful as that from forming. You swallowed before saying, “I didn’t know. Not until today.”

He blinks cluelessly at you.

“I saw you, in the Hanged Man’s realm. I couldn’t call out to you, I couldn’t reach you, but… I heard everything.”

You can see the realization dawn on his face, in the way his eyes widen and soften with sympathy. “Are you… are you okay?”

Your mind spins.

Are you okay?

This morning, maybe you could say you were. Even as Julian was being carted away to be hanged, as his eyes gaze across the crowd and locked onto you. As his body fell out from under him. You could have bit your cheek, sucked it up for a moment more, clinging to the hope his plan would work.

You could watch him die, and still hold on just enough to reassure Portia that he would be okay.

But this?

Every time the thought reaches the forefront of your mind, your head spins. A headache presses at your temples, your stomach churns, your heart feels off-beat. How… How can you be okay?

You shake your head weakly, eyes falling from his face, vision unfocused as hot tears begin pooling too quickly to try stopping them. “No. I… no, I’m not.”

His words sound distant. All you’re aware of is his cool hand touching your shoulder, guiding you down to the ratty old cot taking up space in the small cell. The way his hands glide around you, pulling you into his chest.

And all at once, you finally break.

Harsh sobs shake you to your core as you hug him back. The fabric of his shirt becomes a prisoner in your tight grip, tugging desperately to pull him closer and closer.

His hand cups the back of your head, guiding your face to his neck. He whispers reassurances - mindless platitudes to try distracting your mind from the terrible truth to your missing memories. Kisses planted sweetly at your temple and hairline.

“Who-” You have to gasp for air. Your lungs burn with the next sob, especially as you try to stifle it down against his skin. “Who was I?”

He stiffens under you, and squeezes you tighter in his hold.

That person you used to be… You’d never know them. When at one time, all you knew was yourself, suddenly that rug has been ripped out from under you. Is who you are now- are you even you? Would your past self have become this? Were you them anymore? Did you share anything with them anymore?

And all those memories. All those days, all that time spent living just… gone. Did you used to think of your parents on holidays? Were you even close enough to them to think of them? Were they even alive? You know your shop belonged to your aunt, but you don’t even remember her anymore.

How many childhood memories bathed in golden nostalgia are lost now? How many friends did you used to have, now faded into obscurity?

God, friends. You tried so hard to be kind to all of the vendors at the market, but they all stared at you so warily. No matter what you tried, they were always on edge, always whispering behind your back. Even the baker had his moments of unease toward the beginning of your newest memories. Asra was the only friend you had. For so long. Who else had come before him?

And Julian! You’d known him! Worked as his apprentice! Were you friends then? Did you drink Salty Bitters at the Rowdy Raven together back then? Did you share secrets late in the night? Did you welcome him at work with a cup of coffee? Or did you drift through life back then, too? Keeping a practical distance between you both, staying professional, never anything deeper than that.

You press your face further into his shoulder. You can’t imagine it. You can’t imagine not being as close to Julian as you are now. All the adventures and laughter and love…

But you wish you could remember it. Just for a moment.

Julian brushes your hair back, humming a song out of tune by your ear. You wonder how long he’s been humming for, you didn’t even notice when it began. You focus on the melody, however butchered it may be from years of singing shanties with pirates. If you listen carefully, imagining what it should sound like, you think it may be a lullaby.

The more you listen, the more aware of your body you become. Your skin is warm where he rubs up and down your back. His other hand is gloveless, though you don’t know when he removed it. It tangles softly in your hair, scratching gently at your scalp, sending tingles that mix with your trembling body to form goosebumps along your arms.

His chest rumbles as he hums. You’re pressed close enough to feel it vibrate through you, too. When the song pauses and he inhales, you feel it, too. You can hear it by your ear, the sharp intake of breath.

You remember the sight of him dangling by the neck. You couldn’t tear your eyes away when they waited for him to die.

But he’s not dead now.

You bring a hand around to rest on his chest. He pauses briefly, head shifting as he tries to see what you’re doing, but he doesn’t completely stop. His skin isn’t cold as death, it’s just cool. Underneath, you can feel the powerful beating of his heart. Its steady rhythm is persistent.

Your tears slow, until the leftover drops stick to your eyelashes. Your body stops shaking with the force of your despair. His hand slows to a stop on your back, melody petering off to welcome the silence of the dungeon once more. He kisses your temple.

“Are you alright?” he whispers hesitantly.

Are you?

You take a deep breath. The lingering smell of coffee and the sea greets you.

You nod slightly. Your voice is crackly and raspy as you speak, fragile. “I think so.”

He lets you pull away when you’re ready. You can’t stand the thought of leaving too wide of a gap, though. So your hand remains on his chest, over his heart. There’s a kind understanding in his eye as he covers it with his own.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you back then,” he apologizes. “You needed me and I wasn’t there. I failed you.”

You shake your head, cutting him off. “You’re here for me now.” You muster up a weak smile. “That’s what matters.”

His shoulders sag a little with relief. He lets go of your hand to cup your cheek, wiping away the drying tears with his thumb, before drawing you forward and kissing your forehead once more. It’s easy to close your eyes and sink into the affection. Knowing how close you have both been to dying for good, it feels precious. It is precious.

But it’s all too soon when he pulls away, brows taught with seriousness. Too many questions are left unanswered. Too many things hinge on Lucio not coming back. For as much as you want nothing more than to linger in stolen moments forever, it will have to wait.

You won’t let this plague come back.

You can’t.

[phillydilly]

Illicit Affairs

⊹♡— In which she is in a secretive and forbidden relationship with Lewis Hamilton

Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

Authors note: I was listening to this song and got the idea to write a story loosely based off of it. Hope you enjoy!

Y/N had spent countless nights rehearsing in front of her bedroom mirror, telling herself it was time to end the secretive and forbidden relationship she had with Lewis, the famous Formula 1 driver. She knew it was wrong, keeping herself hidden while Lewis paraded in public with his wife. It was a love that was never meant to be, but it had an intoxicating allure that she couldn't escape.

Tonight was the night, she had convinced herself. She was done with the lies and secrecy. She deserved better, she thought. Y/N stood in front of the mirror, psyching herself up.

"You can do this, Y/N," she whispered to her reflection. "You’ve got this.."

But as she turned away from the mirror, she heard a knock at her apartment door. Her heart raced, and her resolve began to waver. She had invited Lewis over tonight to have the talk, but now that he was here, it was so much harder.

She took a deep breath and went to open the door. When she did, Lewis was standing there, looking as handsome and charming as ever. Without a word, he pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss. Lewis held her close, his hands gently cupping her face as he pulled away from the kiss.

They went to sit on her couch, y/n’s hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She had to do it. She had to end this. Lewis was sitting next to her, looking deep into her eyes, unaware of her inner turmoil.

"Lewis," Y/N began, her voice quivering. "We need to talk."

He frowned slightly, sensing the seriousness in her tone. "What's wrong, Y/N?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she found the strength to voice her thoughts. "I've been thinking, I think we need to end this. This relationship, it's too painful for me. I can't keep hiding."

Lewis's face fell, and his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and desperation. "Y/N, please, don't say that. You mean everything to me. I can't imagine my life without you."

She wiped away a tear that had escaped, but her resolve remained firm. "Lewis, I need to think about my own happiness. This secrecy is tearing me apart. I need to move on, find someone who can give me the love and attention I deserve."

Lewis moved closer to her, his hand gently reaching out to cup her face. "Y/N, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. My wife, she doesn't understand me the way you do. Please, don't do this."

Y/N felt his touch on her skin, his warm breath against her face, and her determination began to waver. She had heard these words before, and every time, they had the power to draw her back in.

Lewis's lips met hers in a passionate kiss, and she responded, their mouths moving together in a familiar dance. Her resolve crumbled as the intensity of their connection enveloped her. The pain of secrecy and the knowledge that their love was forbidden seemed distant in that moment.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N felt lost, caught in the grip of Lewis's charm. "Y/N, please, I can't lose you. I'll do anything to keep you in my life."

Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, "okay."

Their love was an impossible and forbidden affair, but in that moment, as Lewis kissed her again and held her close, Y/N couldn't bring herself to walk away. The allure of their love was too strong, and she knew that their secret relationship would continue, no matter how much she had tried to end it.

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Ari AU - Part Four

The next segment in my Popstar Grian AU that I have been cooking up with @angeart . Sorry for the wait on this one, life has been getting in the way a bit and writing this AU down is exhausting!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Five

Feel free to send me asks about this AU! It makes me insane.

CONTENT WARNINGS for this part: suicide attempt, suicidal ideation, hospitals, serious medical conditions, discussion of seizures, discussion of psych wards, loss of personal autonomy

Hospital, Continued, OR: This is Likely Not An Accurate Representation of Seizure Related Disorders

Things calm down once Grian is stable again. It takes some work, lots of nurses and doctors hurrying around and running machines while Scar sits outside the room terrified. But eventually, she's deemed stable and Scar is given the go-ahead to re-enter the room.

The crew are finally allowed to sit in the room with her too, but it’s honestly kind of boring. Grian is unconscious, and there isn't much more to say. Talking about what happened - the suicide attempt, isn't something anyone really wants to do at the moment.

While they're waiting it turns to late morning. Impulse goes out and grabs some copies of the morning tabloids. They probably aren't the most pleasant thing in the world to read but the crew have to know what's being said about Grian.

Mumbo goes to get them all some breakfast from a vending machine (and comes back holding way too many packets of chocolate and crisps) while Pearl gets coffee and then stays with Scar, putting a hand on his shoulder as they sit together listening to the steady beeping of Grian’s heart monitor.

When Impulse gets back with the tabloids, it at least gives Scar a break from the silence. Everyone starts ranting about how insensitive the headlines are and how they’re going to have to do so much work to fix things when Grian is better and... Scar looks at them fondly, but doesn't really add to the conversation.

He's glad for the distraction. The hope they still carry that Grian will get better. Because Scar can't see that now. He really can't see it. She looks so fragile now, so drained of life, lying in the hospital bed.

It's another few hours before he wakes up.

As soon as they hear the muffled sounds of Grian trying to speak, Scar is right at her side. There had been mutterings between nurses about how worrying it’s getting, more nervous looks being shot her way with each passing hour, but Grian is waking up again. She’s incredibly hazy and out-of-it, but she’s awake.

And Scar is there this time. He's right at her side. Immediately ready to help her with anything she needs.

The oxygen mask is taken away and Grian tries to say Scar’s name, but it barely comes out as anything. Then he just sobs against Scar's chest, too tired to panic, too hurt to speak. Scar holds him as nurses very carefully flit around.

For a while, she’s kind of fading in and out of. When she’s awake and aware, she talks to Scar a little. Asks if she died. If she was kidnapped. Did she take too many pills? Why is everyone here? Is any of this real? Scar answers each question softly and gently with as much clarity as he can. Which isn’t much, because it’s still Scar.

As he gains more awareness, Grian keeps apologising to Scar. For attempting, but also for not succeeding. For burdening him. Scar never stops his reassurances, holding Grian as close as he can while whispering in her ear.

When a doctor comes in and talks about a psych eval, Grian panics. She's terrified, and guilty, knowing exactly what they're going to say. Of course she isn't mentally well. Everyone can see that. She attempted suicide, for goodness' sake.

More pressingly, she thinks she's going to be taken away. That they won't let her go home with Scar. They'll put her in some facility where she'll never get better. The horror stories she's heard from others who have been in the system like that shake her to her core, and that's what really frightens her. That's what makes her want to escape it all.

Attempt Two - Hospital

When the nurses leave, Grian asks Scar to loosen her wrist straps because she’s uncomfortable. The nurses said that they’re for Grian’s safety, but… what harm could it do? Scar doesn’t want Grian to be uncomfortable. The crew have gone home to sleep, while Scar chooses to stay overnight. 

But though Scar falls asleep on the chair next to her bed, Grian stays awake, mind full of loud and terrifying thoughts. She is so afraid, and guilty about what she's putting Scar through, and, honestly, feels like finishing what she started is the best way out. Even if it is scary, it’s less scary than the psych eval. Less scary than the thought of being taken away from Scar and analysed by doctors. Less scary than the thought of it all being leaked to the press.

With the wrist straps loosened, it’s easy for Grian to escape her room and slip out into a hallway. She finds medical scissors in the bathroom. Which is scarier than the pills. More physical and real. 

There is barely an attempt before she’s found by a nurse. She must have made a lot of noise getting out of bed and into the hallway. Even with scissors, there isn't even a scratch deep enough to bleed. Still, she’s told off and sent back to bed.

Scar is given a very stern talking-to by an angry nurse for letting Grian get free and wander off. He’s horrified that he let it happen, the looming ‘what if?’ playing in his head the whole time.

There are consequences. For some time - whatever the doctors decide - he isn’t allowed to see Grian. Which is torture, really. To distract himself, he takes a few much-needed trips between the hospital and home.

The psych eval goes badly the next day. The doctors confirm Grian's fears, wanting to send him to a facility of some kind. She begs not to be sent away, that it would kill her, even if not literally. She wouldn’t last long in a place away from Scar, especially not being observed and evaluated. Hearing her distress, Scar insists that Grian should be allowed to come home. 

It really hits Grian that it isn’t her choice. It’s Scar’s, as his partner and the closest thing she has to a legal spokesperson (aside from, what, her manager?). Ever since she cut her family off.

Grian has no control over his own autonomy. He supposes he forfeited the right to speak for himself after two suicide attempts, but still, it’s horrible. Or, a horrible thought. Grian is somewhat confident that, because of her status and wealth, she could reasonably convince them to listen to her and her alone, if she needed that to happen. Luckily, Scar’s on her side regardless.

He promises to read all the booklets the hospital gives him - especially the ones about what to do if Grian has another seizure - and to lock away all the sharp objects, pills, shoelaces, wires, and glass in the house. Which he does during the time they don't let him see Grian (the biggest chunk of time is when Grian’s therapist visits. That's something they're going to have to keep doing, of course).

But, before anyone can go anywhere, first priority is a brain scan. Because something happened to Grian when she first woke up, and they don’t know what yet. Which is also terrifying! Grian is getting tired of being terrified!

It’s remarkably fast, as procedures go. The doctor and nurses take Scar aside and start talking to him, which Grian sees and really really hates because hello? He's right here? If there's something wrong with him, he wants to know!

Afterwards, the doctor does come up to her and explain that he's been diagnosed with something-or-other (she isn’t really listening, which sort of defeats her previous point) and needs to stay away from flashing lights and high stress scenarios.

Flashing lights. High stress scenarios. Grian almost laughs, that's actually hilarious.

There is also medication. Scar’s been given pills for her to take daily, to prevent seizures.

Oh. Scar’s been given the pills so that Grian can't take them on his own. So she can’t overdose again. He feels like he's being treated like a child. He understands why - he deserves it - but it still hurts. 

Then, that’s it. Grian makes enough of a recovery to be discharged, and it’s time to go home. Prescribed with new pills, more therapy, and a lot of things to read. It feels anticlimactic. Impulse calls and says he’ll bring over a car, so… it’s another waiting game. 

While Scar and Grian sit in awkward silence, Scar runs over the guilt in his mind. The fact that Grian got out of his room and was going to attempt again. Grian being dragged back into the room, arms scratched up, crying as she’s restrained again. Scar pushed out of the room and listening to her cries, being told it’s his fault she escaped… it all hurts.

But it was a mistake. It is in the past. Scar quietly places his hand over Grian's, extending the olive branch to her while trying his best not to cry. It doesn't matter. He has to be there for her now. 

Leaving The Hospital

Impulse arrives with a baseball cap (which is too big) and sunglasses for Grian, to both hide her identity and keep the camera lights away. There are a lot of people outside still, with cameras and microphones. Cameras with flashing lights. Microphones that cause Grian so much stress. 

How lucky.

Heading out first, Impulse distracts the crowds. Then, Scar tells Grian to close her eyes entirely and just let him guide her to the car. Pay no attention to the reporters. It's okay. They don't matter.

Grian’s used to it. He doesn't even complain. He knows he's just a thing to them. An object to gawk at and capitalise off of. Maybe she'll write a suicide note and blame them in it. That'd be a good comeback, wouldn't it?

It’s not a comforting thought, though. She loops an arm around Scar’s shoulder and allows herself to be moved like a ragdoll, stepping cautiously out of the hospital doors with her eyes shut tight and head bowed to the floor.

The light of cameras flash behind her shielded eyes, but nothing happens. It’s overwhelmingly loud, after so many quiet days in the hospital, but she pushes through. As she always does. Within a few moments Scar gets her into a car, and they’re off with no incident.

No seizure. It's strange getting used to the thought. Seizures were something that happened to other people, not to Grian. But now they do. Now there's something else to watch out for.

During the ride, Grian stays quiet. He’s scared to find out what’s waiting at home. Whether their house will be swarmed with people, or if it will be safe. Terrible thoughts crawl into her head like parasites, eating away all hint of positivity and relief from being out of the hospital. Scar seems upset with her. It's uncomfortable.

And then, without warning, they’re home. Like time has slipped past her. The car engine stops running. Grian remembers to breathe.

There’s no one there. At least, no one visible. Once they get inside and close the front door, Grian stands in the hallway, unsure of what to do with himself. He asks Scar, half-dissociated, if she’s still a person. Scar responds: of course, Grian is his favourite person.

Grian thinks she’s a lot of people’s favourite person, and that’s basically the problem. Something bristles up her spine as she thinks about the bar, and that person, the one who drugged her. 

She's so terribly afraid of everything. Of herself. Of the press. Of the stalkers. She doesn't know how to explain that she still has nightmares about being drugged. And that the night he took those pills was both the calmest and most terrified he's felt in months. Because everything was going to go away. But everything was going to go away.

He tells Scar that he doesn't want to kill himself, but also yes, he does. She doesn't want to die but at the same time, how else will everything just stop? There's no other way out. He can't see it getting better. 

Scar doesn't have an answer either. But he asks Grian, quietly, if he could just... try to stay alive. Even if it's hard. Even if it hurts. Try to stay alive, because he doesn't know what he'll do without Grian. Without Grian being there. Experiencing the world with him. 

He can't - doesn't want to - imagine Grian never smiling again, never singing again, never getting another haircut or eating his favourite food or telling Scar she loves him, ever again. Never listening to Scar's Disney rambles or planning to pull little pranks on their friends. Never crying. Never coming up with song lyrics, or designing outfits. Never holding Scar again.

It's haunting, how Grian seems so far removed now from when Scar met her. Only a hint of her past self shining through, begging to be found and held onto. She's changed. They both have. But losing her altogether?

Scar can't think about that. It's maybe all Grian can think about. And they both feel very, very helpless.

[bonefall]

OHHH OK now im curious. bc of this ask: https://www.tumblr.com/bonefall/729548700508160000/could-be-like-my-cousin-shes-100-percent-deaf-in?source=share about dovewing being deaf. do cats in the BB AU have a signed form of clanmew? or is it basic gestures/just the written form of clanmew for deaf/HOH cats?

signed,

someone who really loves languages (hoping to god i spelled everything right/actually used the right words. ive been rewatching 3 hour psych lectures sine 6am...)

They have a rudimentary writing system! Clan glyphs be upon ye

It's not phonetic Clanmew, it's glyphs. Snowkit, before his tragic death saving Tawnykit, was actually OBSESSED with these. If he'd survived, he would have built these out into something he could use to communicate with. He was actually a really interesting kid.

But, unfortunately... that passion went with him. Whitewing is the next cat born with a hearing problem, and she's really uninterested in them. She isn't the same creative person that he was, and struggled with the fact that her family seemed to imply she had to "live the life he couldn't."

(note: in BB, dovewing is lionblaze's adopted daughter and bio-niece.)

I think there's going to be a big of a tragedy at play, here. Whitewing has figured out her own methods of communication. It's not a full language, but she's able to communicate basic intent with "rudimentary signs" she's created on her own.

She was only ONE degree of separation away from Dovewing (as Birchfall's, Dove's mentor, mate), but...everyone was forcing Dovewing into what THEY felt she needed. More hunting practice, more glyph practice, more lip-reading. Dovewing wasn't allowed to set her own pace or learn in her own way.

And her response was to bolt, taking all the possibility with her.

IT was the right choice for Dovewing, I think. She thinks that too. But, it wasn't the ONLY choice, you know? There's always things left unsaid and things you'll never be able to try when you make such a big decision. Who knows what could have been?

Maybe Dove and White would have ended up creating the start of a brand new dialect of Clanmew Sign Language, or changed the glyph system in a way that fit them better. Maybe that's not what matters; maybe they would have just been able to make each other feel less alone.

But as it is...

Every deaf, HOH, and mute cat in BB is currently disconnected from each other. They can't pool their skills except at Gatherings.

So Fallowfern, Dovewing, Whitewing, and Stoneclaw all have their own unique way of communicating.

There are tail signs which are used for battle, and glyphs which are used for writing.

Info: Those who go deaf later in life are still usually able to speak. Those who were born deaf often have a harder time. (Clarifying because this is apparently not common knowledge?)

OH! Bonus! Here's how each of those four tend to communicate!

Dovewing

She's REALLY frustrated by everyone forcing solutions on her. I think part of her actually really likes that she can say whatever and then not hear the response. It's like, "Deal with it. Show me you care with your actions if it's so important."

ZERO patience for people who just try to talk over her. She will immediately respect you if you listen to her carefully; only then will she give you the time of day to try and talk back. She kinda treats it like a privilege to talk to her, and she WILL revoke it without remorse.

People who have earned this privilege;

Heartstar. Naturally. And all of their children.

All of the Guardian cats, especially Antfur who is her best friend.

Violetshine, weirdly enough. She visits ShadowClan now and then and Dovewing is very fond of her and her wife and husband.

Strikestone and her new family

Squirrelflight

Briarlight

Alderheart and Sparkpelt

Twigbranch

Fernsong (BUT HE IS ON THIN. ICE. As Ivypool's husband.)

Her preferred method of being talked to is glyph writing. Heartstar is really creative with them, and it's super endearing. She improvises signs a lot and draws full pictures, making whole "doodle pages", even writing little "love letters" in the dirt before Dove wakes up. Literally peak romance, Dovewing loves her wife so muchhh

Whitewing

Also has low patience, but in a more "quick" way. She doesn't like people who take a lot of her time trying to phrase something simple and act awkwardly around her. Time is prey to Whitewing-- cut to the chase and communicate what you need her to do.

Interestingly, this leads to her really disliking Bramblestar as a leader. He's very inattentive to her needs when he organizes patrols on his own. She has very strong opinions and bad synergy with some of her Clanmates, and if she's forced on a patrol with them it ruins her day.

(She's really relieved when Squilf is reinstated post-BOTTE, Squilf knows about this quirk and accounts for it.)

Her love with Birchfall was actually a long time in the making. He really sees her, and something about the way they communicate just clicks. It's easy. They were friends, then partners, and then eventually mates and have been close their whole lives. Their body language just makes sense to each other.

She's been deaf her whole life and only knows a few very important words, but won't "speak" words if she doesn't have to. She does have a habit of making noises when she's happy though, beeping, meowing, and meeping when she's surprised and "not in work mode."

Whitewing is the kind of deaf cat in those videos who sees their human is home and goes "MEEEEEEEEEA." She would walk into a bathroom and wail so she could feel the vibrations on her paws. Vocalizing feels good. She is NOT a quiet person unless she's hunting.

Her preferred method of communication is mostly modified tail signs, but ThunderClan broadly uses glyphs, but she doesn't want to correct them on it. She feels bad telling them it's frustrating that they take so long to draw.

Stoneclaw

She has selective mutism. Her vigil was the night of the WindClan Massacre, and while sitting outside the camp with her temporary silence, ShadowClan attacked and killed her sister Thrushwing in front of her.

At first, WindClan thought it was nobility, that she'd "carried out her vigil to the bitter end." But it never healed. It's not a choice, it's trauma. She can speak when she's extremely relaxed but it's a really rare circumstance.

But, the legacy is to her benefit. She's the granddaughter of Tallstar (through Flylight, his adopted son), has an honorable story, and is a strong and confident warrior... in the daytime. She never hunts at night, when the sun sets, so does she.

(Clan cats are crepuscular, working in the morning and in the evening, but Stoneclaw only takes daylight shifts.)

Glyphs serve her fine, but she really dislikes using tail signs to communicate... brings up really bad memories.

She would REALLY benefit from someone making an effort to "legitimize" some sort of CSL, it would be like a support club to her. SO if it ever happened, Stoneclaw would jump at the chance to join. She's probably friends with Fallowfern though, once SkyClan arrives. Stoneclaw lives to become a very old girl.

Fallowfern

Mom of the Road Safety Man, guy who knows a million words for vehicles, Rabbitleap, and best friend and co-parent with Hawkwing, Plumwillow, Fallowfern is an old cat who ends up losing her hearing later in life like Dovewing!

I'm actually not entirely decided on her personality, but I'm feeling that she'd make a really good "glue" to hold everyone together. Like some kind of organizer-type person, someone who's very good at networking. She's really upset to be losing her hearing, it signifies a lot of really negative things to her.

She suddenly can't talk with a lot of people... even the ones who are reaching out to her are doing exactly that. Reaching out to her.

She likes being the reacher-outerer. It feels like being old and washed up.

SkyClan is a very good, connected Clan, with bonds notoriously VERY strong in comparison to the other Forest Four because of shared persecution... but

She's got this awful feeling that everyone's just coddling her, being nice to her, sending her to the elder's den like a trinket on a shelf.

"Does this mean... does this mean I'm going to lose music? Will anyone dance with me ever again? Do my babies want me to join them, or... or are they just tolerating stinky old mama <:( ?"

They're NOT, btw. Of course not. She's Fallowfern and she means a lot to them.

So I think at the VERY least, she finds a fondness for Stoneclaw at Gatherings. Elder friends, girlies who bond over making little grandma bracelets, but I'm not sure if it's HIT them yet that they can do something very cool together.

In fact it would be kind of funny if they weren't even aware of each other's disabilities at first, like they just started hanging out quietly. Fallowfern assumed that Stoneclaw just doesn't have anything to say and Stoneclaw figured Fallowfern was respecting her silence.

Like something just gravitated them to each other in the most natural, orbital way.

And then Snapstorm, Stoneclaw's wife, bumbles up like "Hey babe who's your friend :) ?" And Stoneclaw smiles, nods at Fallowfern to introduce herself, and then Fallow's like... "Oh I can't hear you, honey."

Stone: !!! (Taps self and makes a crossing motion over her throat)

Fallow: O_O "Ohhhh"

BUT, anyway,

Her preferred form of communication is unequivocally glyphs. I imagine SkyClan might have more written characters than other Clans, simply because they used them a LOT during their time apart under Spiderstar's Plan. Plus, they used to see a lot of road signs which they may have just adopted as glyphs.

Hmm... yeah, seems very cute that The Road Family's traffic theme continues, lmao

[anniesannex]

You’re so art deco

Chapter two

Description: you are a struggling college student who needs some cash. Your friend suggests a sugar daddy but you wouldn’t do that. Right?

I’m so sorry it took a bit to get up but here’s chapter two! Also sorry abt the 1975 reference I was listening to that song. -A

“WHAT?!” Grace’s jaw dropped as she heard the news. “But I thought you didn’t want a sugar daddy.”

“I was wrong. And I’m sorry.” You heard yet another ping from your laptop.

“Is that him?” Grace looked baffled as you nodded. “What did he say?” As you looked you had seemed to find a mirror selfie. Of Johnny wearing a nice button up shirt and some slacks.

“Goddamn.” You spoke.

“Goddamn is right!” Grace exclaimed. “What do I even do with this information.”

“Please don’t tell anyone I wanna keep this lowkey.” You pleaded with Grace.

“Okay but only because I love you.” Grace started to get ready for bed herself.

“I love you too I’m gonna send him a pic back do I look cute?” You asked as she laughed.

“Yeah, totally.” She smiled as you took the picture. This was probably the happiest she had seen you since you moved in.

“Thank you so much, you’re literally the best!” You were grinning as it sent. “But we should get ready for bed.”

“I know you might be a little wired with this new sugar daddy but I’m ready to go to bed.” Grace laughed.

“Goodnight Gracie.” You pulled the covers up onto your body. “I love you.”

“Night (y/n/n). I love you too.” Grace smiled as you began to shut your eyes and drift off into sleep.

Waking up you checked your computer.

@johnC95: good morning Doll. Hope you have a good day.

@Y/n: good morning Johnny. You too. Luckily I’m off today.

@johnC95: so where do you go to school?

@y/n: UCLA.

@johnC95: oh cool, I’m not that far from there. Would you wanna do like coffee?

@y/n: sure, when would you wanna meet up?

Your heart pounded in your chest. What were you going to wear? How were you going to do your hair? What if he didn’t like you when you guys met up?

@johnC95: I’m kind of booked for the next couple days. Is Saturday okay?

You look at the calendar. Saturday was three days away. You looked to see if you were working as you typed.

@y/n: lemme check my schedule. I should be good though.

As you doubled checked you sighed in relief

“Thank god.” you said to yourself. “I’m off on a Saturday, for once.”

@johnC95: sounds good! I wanna hear your voice again so bad.

@y/n: maybe we can talk later tonight. Btw what’s your number?

@johnC95: oh I’m sorry it’s (xxx)xxx-xxxx.

You type it into your phone putting it under the contact ‘Johnny <3’. As you text the number you feel a strange sensation in you stomach, like it was being tied into knots. Why was it that you were so nervous to text him?

You decide on a quick ‘Hi it’s y/n :).’

‘Hello doll :).’

You sighed as you start to get out of bed.

‘What are you doing today?’

‘I’m not sure I might lounge around my dorm, do some coursework, just try to relax’

‘Fair enough. I really do wanna hear your lovely voice. Or even see that beautiful face (y/n).’

‘Why don’t we talk right now? Even if it isn’t for long.’

‘I’m going to be with my daughter soon and I want to make sure she’s my first priority.’

‘You have a daughter? What’s her name? How old is she?’

‘Her name is Cassie and shes 16.’

‘Okay awesome!’

‘Sorry gtg she’s here!’

You wonder what she was like. You went to your closet pulling out a baby tee that said ‘reading is sexy’ and a pair of low rise jeans. Putting on socks you lace up your black converse. Then putting on music you decided to do your hair and makeup.

“This has to be a little over kill to just go study.” You laughed to yourself as you put on mascara.

“Bitchhhhhh.” Grace yelled as she entered your dorm. “Hot psych guy wasn’t in class today. I wanna cry.”

“I’m sorry dude.” You turned to her with a frown. “Wanna grab coffee with me before I have to go to the library?”

“Sure. The local one though. On campus. It has such better coffee.”

“Obviously, it’s a local coffee shop. They’re always better.” You laughed. “But let’s go.”

You grab your stuff not forgetting your phone and headphones. Grace opened the door back up.

“Nice shirt.” Grace winked as she held the door open.

“Thanks, my friend got it for me.” You winked back. Remembering when you and her got baby tees on the boardwalk. Laughing she led the way to the shop. You held the door open for her as you guys chatted.

“Dude would you love me if I was a worm?” Grace asked, cackling.

“Are you like a talking worm or a regular one?”

“What the fuck?!” She giggled. “A talking worm! It’s so funny, like ‘help (y/n) I got turned into a talking worm!’ That’s so crazy.”

“It’s a hypothetical in a hypothetical!” You chuckled as you guys got up to the counter.

“Iced coffee oatmilk?” grace asked.

“Dude I asked I can’t let you buy it. It’s on me this time.” You tried, knowing she wouldn’t let you.

“No seriously. Dude, I love you and you deserve this.” She smiled. “Two medium iced coffees with oat milk please.”

“Fine you win, but I’m paying next time.”

“Never going to happennnn!” Graced took out her card. “Thank you so much, have a great day.”

You guys sat down and waited for your coffee as you talked about the whole sugar daddy thing.

“I’m nervous to meet him.” You admitted. “Like what if he doesn’t like me?”

“He’s gonna fucking love you!” Grace exclaimed. “Are you kidding me! You’re literally the best!”

“You’re right. I’m being silly.”

“Oh our coffee is ready!” She ran to grab them “I’ll walk you to the library. It’s a sucky walk without a friend.”

“You’re right.” You agreed as you felt your phone buzz.

‘I think can’t wait to hear your voice again.’ You smiled as you type back.

‘That is really sweet. Thank you Johnny.’

‘Cassie is gonna go out with a friend tonight. Should I come up tonight?’

‘Sure.’

“SHIT!” You yelled. “Grace. We need to go back to the dorm.”

“What’s wrong (Y/n)?” she followed you as you took a break neck pace towards your dorm building. “Stop running!”

You only stopped briefly as you texted Johnny.

‘So what were you thinking?’

‘Maybe we do dinner. How’s Italian sound?’

‘Great what time were you thinking?’

‘How abt I pick you up @ 8?’

‘Perfect!’

“WHATS GOING ON?!” Grace yelled out of breath.

“It’s happening tonight.” You stared in awe.

“What?”

“ITS HAPPENING TONIGHT!”

“Oh-then lets go!” You both started running again. As you reached your dorm you both hastily got inside. “What are you thinking about wearing? Where is it? How long until he picks you up? “

“We’re doing Italian, he’s picking me up at eight and I have no fucking clue!”

“I have an idea how about that black and pink floral dress with kitten heels, my viviennes, that heart pendant and pink floral clutch?”

“You are literally a life saver! And how about a y2k claw clip half up-half down look for my hair?!”

“Let’s do this.” You laughed as Grace pulled out the outfit while you hopped into the shower. As you showered you thought about Johnny and that feeling came back. You cursed those damned butterflies as you calmed yourself down.

Making sure that you were properly cleaned you popped on some of the 1975.

“I like my men like I like my coffee, full of soy milk and so sweet, it won’t offend anybody.” You sang as you put your makeup on and danced around your bathroom.

“Dude I love that song!” Grace yelled out as she pulled you out of the bathroom.

“You’re lucky I was done.” You feigned a serious look. Before cracking up.

“I’m gonna help you get ready.” You stepped into the dress as she checked your messages with Johnny.

“He said ‘I can’t wait to see how gorgeous you look when I come pick you up, doll. And you sent me the right building?’’

“Text him back ‘awww Johnny, you’re too sweet. And yes I did.’”

“Okay and sent!” Grace watched as you put in the earrings. “Don’t forget the pink claw clip! It’ll match better!”

“Thank you grace!” You fixed up your hair and did final touches to your makeup.

“Wow, (y/n/n). If Johnny doesn’t like you, I’ll be your sugar daddy.”

“Gracie!”

You heard the buzzer to be buzzed into your dorm. Looking at your phone you saw his text.

‘I’m here.’

‘Okay buzzing you up!’ As you did so. Soon enough you heard a knock at your door. Letting him in you saw that he was even more gorgeous than on the screen. His perfectly quaffed hair was about to be in silver fox territory as he had evidence of smile lines beginning to form at his eyes. He was tall and muscular. As you could see from the curves of his suit.

“You look- wow.” He stared, face full of awe.

“Thank you Johnny. You look good too.” You smiled, catching a glance at what was in his hand. “What are those?”

“Oh-” his trance had been broken, as he held them out for you. “These are for you.”

“Thank you so much! They’re beautiful!” You took the bouquet.

[roturo]

Eve, Psyche & The Bluebeard’s wife

“I wish for what’s forbidden

Get it like boom-boom-boom.”

WARNINGS: SMUT. (NO PIV) : MASTERLIST.

Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

English it’s not my first language so i’m sorry if I have some grammatical errors. This is my first jjk fic, and I always wanted to make one! Basically my content is based from songs, the song title will always be the title for the Oneshot/fic/etc. I haven’t wrote in a “long” time, so it’s not one of my best works. But I still hope you enjoy it!. 🩵 Might do a pt2

Since you were a little kid, your parents always teached you about the jujutsu world. The curses, and of course, the strongest clans. They mentioned a lot the Gojo clan, which always intrigued you. 

Gojo Satoru. The celebrated and strongest sorcerer. Millions of money, every girl he wants, and gets everything he wants. Was he really all that? 

You were always taught to respect your seniors, give them the smile of a doll, listen to them with a kind face, and eat up the shit they say to you.

“Oh Ms.(L/N) you’re one of the strongest female sorcerers, have you ever thought of forming a family with another strong sorcerer like you? I can help you with that”

“You’re already getting old, how do you pretend keeping the strong blood going?”

“It’s clearly you need to train more, you’re getting out of form. How boys will like you if look like that?”

You keep covering and covering everything like emotions. You hate it, you’re not a doll. What if you never wanted to have kids? Or even a partner?

Now you’re 19 years old. Almost 20. Living alone, and you started assisting to Jujutsu school. You’ve been always training with your dad, but as time passes and you get stronger, your dad can’t keep up with you. 

First day of school. Feels weird, since this isn’t a normal school, neither a place you’re going to learn normal things. 

You started walking towards the big white building until you noticed some people training, a pink haired boy excitedly looked at you and started waving at you, next to him was a tall black haired looking pineapple frods hair, a… panda?… and a greenish colored hair girl. At least they looked nice?…

You were wrong. 

Well, not totally, Yuji and panda were nice, full of energy, but still.. nice.

The others… Well.

They weren’t mean, but not as friendly as the other two. 

But anyways, they were waiting for the sensei. Talking about how handsome he is, how you shouldn’t fall for him since he’s a what they call “rolling stone” (for going from women to women) basically a womanizer.

… What a dick.

But still, apparently he’s really strong, and a good friendly sensei.

But you never thought your sensei was the forbidden man.

Your heart was beating, but don’t get it wrong, it wasn’t in a romantic way, more of a “is this really the Gojo Satoru?”

The strongest man on earth.

Wow.

They were right.

He’s indeed handsome.

“Ms.(Y/N L/N)! Glad to see you here! Your dad told me a lot of you.” He said, with a stupid smirk of clearly what they called: a rolling stone.

You really didn’t understand how both of your families got along, but never in your life till now you met with Gojo Satoru.

“Hello sensei Gojo. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You said with a doll smile, like they taught you. 

“Great! I guess you already introduced to everyone here, what about warming up to see what you got?” 

You did as he said. Your curse was mind controlling. You didn’t like it, you didn’t used it for your favor neither for curses, it only brought bad things to you. Like your mom forgetting you, losing your first boyfriend.. 

It really was a strong but delicate curse.

You started fighting with Maki, a easy fight even if you were still rusty. Great warm up.

Next was Panda, heavy when trying to get him of you but still. Nothing too special.

Last one was Megumi, you were out of breath, some bruises here and there and you were pretty sure your head was bleeding but hey! You were fighting with no use of your cursed energy! You had to use it somehow now.

So, it was easy, just in time of 2 seconds, you quickly got into Megumi’s head to use his own shikigamis against himself and quickly end the fight with some damage here and there but nothing serious. Hopefully no one noticed what you did.

But for what you can tell, everyone was astonished. You overcome all of them.

You were in fact, one of the strongest, so, what else but to prove it with fighting Gojo Satoru?

The kids were trying to get you in a battle with Gojo, someway they had to see you beaten.

He let out a small laugh, knowing the outcome of this battle, then he  got in position

“Let’s see what you got doll.”

Asshole.

Okay, you were definitely beat up. He really was all that. You tried everything in you but couldn’t even land one punch. You really started to hate this man. 

So you began focusing you energy and unleash some power out of it. You’re not pretending to die today. And less to this man. So while he was being the asshole he was and showing off his power and how beaten up you were thanks to him, you slowly worked your way into Gojo’s mind, slowly taking control of his thoughts and actions.

The usually unmovable Gojo Satoru seemed to be lost in your mind control. He was now in the same place but nowhere around him but you.

“Where am I?” He said, you felt his body tense up so, still controlling him, you tried to relax him a little bit.

“Don’t worry sensei, this is just for time, you were almost killing me in there you know?” You giggled, getting closer to him.

Gojo couldn’t believe this, your father had told him about you having a  strong curse but he never thought it would be this strong for you to control him.

He was trying to get back control, and you sensed that, so you had no other way of beating this rolling stone, but to play his own game.

You started waking closer to him, you hear his heart beating like boom boom, but you didn’t expected him trying to fight with you in his own mind. You felt a punch in your left side of your face, then a heavy body knocking you down into the floor.

“Stop this now.” His voice changed. The flirty tone changed into a darker one.

You’re not letting him win this game.

So you moved your bodies in a way you’re now on top of him, but you felt a punch of energy hitting you in your chest. You really have to be faster.

Never in your life you thought you were going to be on top of Gojo Satoru straddling him to get you stopped from being beat up. It was getting hotter for him, something so unexpectedly for him. He never thought this is how someone will get into him.

Gojo still in shock you started moving your hips back and forth letting a small sight. He parted his lips making eye contact with you. You had to focus or you would stop having control over his mind. 

You breathed in, “Kiss me.” He looked at you and agreed almost immediately.

He barely even knew you, he only noticed you thanks to your dad, you were a pretty girl, and had a nice body too, but why is he falling so quickly for this girl? Never in his 28 years of being in this earth he never imagined he would be letting his guard down just for a lay with a girl. When he’s supposed to make the girls let their guard down so they could have sex with HIM.

Why were you so special? Why is his body feeling so hot right now?

He leaned back from the kiss amusingly and watched you frown. You were obviously dissatisfied. “More,” you sighed and pulled him by his neck. 

You crashed your lips onto his and moaned while doing so. He put both of his hands on your hips and rubbed circles on them while dominating the heated kiss for a while. You pushed him, now being able to straddle his hardening bulge as you tried not to break the kiss. You held onto his shoulders and ground faster, your hips moving sensually against his. He was grinding with you at the same pace, lips still on yours as he let out low groans of satisfaction.

His right hand slowly went underneath your skirt to rub your inner thigh. You moaned and wiggled a bit, trying to get his hand off your damp panties, but he put his hand back to your side again. This was not part of the plan. Focus. You silently cursed and glared at him before he parted his lips to say something. He was still looking at your body.

“I think i’m about to cum” This was the first time he’s coming before the girl he’s fucking. What were you? What are you doing to him?

You kept grinding into his now hard dick, getting your hands inside his shirt and started playing with his nipples making him let out a small whine from the unexpected action. You kissed his jaw, everytime lowering more the kissed until you had to get his shirt off. to start sucking his nipples making him moan while still straddling him.

You had to focus. So when you felt him having some shock waves from the pleasure you stopped, leaving him hard and confused when you got into real life again. This was your time, you caught him out of guard without his infinity and punched him hard on the face making him fall down. 

But when you got on top of him to give him a last punch you never expected him to push you back with a strong wave of energy, making you fall and hit yourself with a tree.

Everything started fading away, making you dizzy, the last thing you saw, was a white haired man looking at you without his blindfold with a impressed but still dark face inspecting you.

“You’re definitely a mess.” That’s the last thing you heard before everything turned black.

What was he looking for? If you want now we fall... 

Hope you enjoyed my first jjk fic! I might do a pt2 if this gets support! Remember to give a heart ♡

[mummybear]

My Brother's Best Friend - Part Two - Too Much

Words: 4085

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Mention's Of Blood, Tiny Bit Of Smut, Multiple Heart To Heart, Protective Scott, Possessive Stiles, I think that's it! :)

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Reader/Sadie McCall, Lydia Martin, Liam Dunbar, Allison Argent, Melissa McCall.

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski and Reader

Summary: Tensions are running high when you discover more than you had ever imagined has happened over the past few months. What you do discover after all this time might only be the tip of the iceberg.

A/N: Hey guys, so this is part two! Thank you to everyone who has read/liked/commented on the first chapter I appreciate it more than you know! This chapter is a little more angsty than the last so I hope you enjoy it, had to bring in momma McCall for this one! Enjoy, and let me know what you think! :D

Chapter 2 - Too Much

The drive back home is silent, the air thick with tension. Almost like nobody dares to speak a word. Stiles flexes his fingers and they move further up your thigh. You have to fight your body's reaction to squirm against the onslaught, you want him closer and you want him to stop all at the same time. You bite your lip when his long fingers brush against the edge of your panties. Fighting every instinct currently battling it out in your psyche, you close your legs, trying to focus on the road ahead, rather than the insatiable man beside you.

Your eyes snap toward Stiles when you hear a deep and pleased rumble coming from him, as he buries his nose in your neck his lips slowly make their way up. Not stopping until his teeth are nibbling at your ear. You can taste the slight hint of blood on your tongue as you continue to bite back the whimper of want building in the back of your throat. Suddenly though, you lose control when his fingers brush against the dampened lace of your panties.

“Is that all for me? So fucking wet,” Stiles rasps his voice almost a growl, as his teeth drag across your ear lobe and another whimper leaves your now parted lips. 

“Stiles. Stop, for fuck’s sake,” Scott growls, and you swear that you hear the creek of the steering wheel beneath his grip.

Stiles either doesn’t care what your brother has to say or he just simply doesn’t listen. The next thing you know his lips have dropped to your neck once again, and he’s sucking what you have to assume is going to be a mark into your neck. He releases the skin with a gentle nip of his teeth and he groans when his fingers push your panties to the side, no doubt happy to finally get to your bare skin. You suddenly forget where you are and who you’re with. You can’t explain it, but the next thing you know you’ve parted your thighs, and you’re rolling your hips to get closer to him.

“You want me to make it all better, beautiful?” he growls, dragging two long fingers through your slick.

“Please, Stiles. I need it,” you whimper as those fingers slowly but firmly circle your clit.

“So fuckin’ wet. All fucking mine.” He moans as your fingers wrap around his wrist and you push his hand closer to you. Letting out a shuddered moan when his fingers move to your opening.

“Right. That’s it, I’ve had enough.” Scott snaps, and Stiles pulls you against him right as Scott slams on the breaks.

Stiles grins at you as he slips his fingers between his lips, your gaze is glued to him as he sucks those fingers between his plump lips and moans in pleasure.

Suddenly the back door opens, and it’s almost ripped off of the hinges, you’re dragged from the car by Lydia, apparently you had made it home.

“Hey Lyd’s,” you grin at her dreamily, letting her tug you further away. Leaving just enough room for Scott to barge in.

“Hey Mini, hell of a night, huh?” She smiles, wrapping an arm around you, probably worried you still can’t stand up properly. In truth she’s not totally wrong. 

You wince as Scott drags Stiles from the car and roughly slams him against the side of it. 

Suddenly it's like you’re doused in reality, as your lust fades a little further into the background. Leaving it so that you’re able to focus once more on your surroundings. What you see leaves your mouth open in shock. Lydia takes your hand and gently squeezes it, while you both watch the scene unfold, but the shock of what you are watching leaves you unable to squeeze back.

Because it looks as if Stiles is fighting against Scott, and Scott doesn’t exactly appear to be finding it very easy to keep Stiles in place. You can’t see Stiles’ face, but you can see Scott’s red Alpha eyes reflected in the window of the car. The sudden roar that cuts through the air even has you scared. You haven’t heard your brother this angry in a long time, and even Lydia flinches beside me as instinctively pulls me closer, while the other wolves bow their heads in submission to their Alpha. 

Your hold on Lydia’s hand would be painful for most people, luckily you know she can take it. Scott’s forehead presses against Stiles' as they seem to have a quiet conversation, so that nobody can hear. There’s a collective sigh of relief when Scott steps back and releases Stiles, leaving him to sag back against the car. 

However, then the confusion is back for you. The humiliation of what you’d let Stiles do to you in front of everyone in that car, including your big brother, his best friend. You can feel the deep blush as it covers your body. You need to get out of here, you take Lydia by surprise when you yank your hand free from hers, slowly stepping back away from the scene and everyone involved. Almost as one everyone turns to look at you, and your heart hammers painfully in your chest. A tear rolls down your cheek, you just don’t understand, what the hell is going on? 

In the right place at the right time, maybe you’d have gone there with Stiles, but not that fast, and certainly not the two places where things had happened tonight. It was almost as though you had no control of your actions, no control of your own body or mind.

“Sadie? Hey, it’s okay. This isn't your fault, none of it is. Just come inside, I think we should all talk.” Scott sounds so sincere, not one look of judgement on his face, he’s stepping closer slowly, like you’re a wounded animal that he’s scared will run if given the opportunity.

The tears are falling now, thick and fast, but you don’t dare to look anywhere that isn’t your brother. Too scared of what you might see on his friends' faces. There’s one direction in particular that you can’t even consider glancing in, because you’re terrified of the look of regret that will be on his face. 

You continue to step back though, you need to be anywhere but here and quickly. Your heart is aching painfully, you don’t know what to do, your head hurts so much right now.

“Please, dont,” Scott practically begs, his big brown eyes meeting yours, but when he takes another step towards you, you do the only thing you can. You run.

You don’t even know where you’re going, unable to think straight or see very well in the dark you simply take off. Scott knows you well enough to know that if he follows you, you wouldn’t want to talk about anything right now. So all you hear as you run is your own heartbeat thundering in your ears and the wind whipping around you as you sprint faster than you have in years. You don’t stop until your legs and lungs are burning, only stopping to rest against the railing by the lake. Letting your head rest on your arms, sucking in air the best you can.

When you finally have your breathing under control, you stumble back into the bench behind you and sink into it with a thud. Tilting your head back, you look up at the stars, wishing that anything about tonight had made any sense. 

Your lifelong crush had made out with you, in fact you’d even taken things to the next level. You can’t help but think that you should be happy. But so many things about tonight don’t make any sense, and you hate it. You need this night to make sense. You can’t forget the look of desperation on Stiles’ face when it had just been the two of you, even if he liked you a lot, that look, you just don’t understand it completely. You’d known him your entire life and he had never once looked at you that way. It was almost like he was terrified you’d turn him away, even more than you’d been that he would do the same to you. Then there’s that word he’d growled before he’d pounced on you. Mate. What the hell did that mean? Not to mention that purple glow his eyes had. Once you have chalked it up to a trick of the light or something, but you had seen it alot more than once. 

Before you can drive yourself insane you hear the crunch of leaves behind you, and you jump up and spin around. But your anger very quickly deflates when you see the one person who always knows how to make everything better. “Mom? What are you doing out here?” you ask in an almost broken whisper. Trying to keep your voice even, though you know it’s pointless, she knows you too well. Not to mention that the person who had sent her here would’ve told her everything anyway.

“Baby, come on. You know better than to try that around me,” she smiles gently, pulling you into her arms as soon as she’s close enough. 

You sag against her as she wraps you in her arms, burying your face into her shoulder and the tears come once again. She doesn’t even try to stop the tears, only holds you tighter, until they stop on their own. 

When you’ve finally stopped shaking she leads you over to the bench, and you take a seat before she turns you around to face her.

“You want to talk about it, sweetheart?” 

“I dunno if I can. I mean this isn’t exactly normal stuff. Even if it was and I wanted to talk, this is why I should have a friend to talk to, but since Callie. I just can’t,” you sniff, trying to block out memories of your best friend. 

Callie had been killed last year, thankfully nothing to do with werewolves or the supernatural. Not that it would have made much difference, she was still gone. You missed her like crazy, she knew everything about you and your crazy mixed up family, it never scared her away, she was always there, no matter what was happening. Until that one night. It felt as though your heart had been ripped out when you’d received the news. It still does when you think about it for too long.

“Hmm, I guess you’re right. Though part of this is perfectly normal, honey. I know you’ve always had a soft spot for Stiles. I can just listen if you want? You can leave out anything you don’t want to tell me,” she smiles, nudging you gently with her shoulder when you look at her, your face unable to hide the shock that she knew.

“How did you..?”

“How did I know about Stiles?” she chuckles quietly, cupping your cheeks so that you meet her eyes.

“Because, not to be a cliche, but I am your mother.” she winks at that, making you smile, then she shrugs and wraps her arm around your shoulders, “and honestly, I think the only people who didn’t know were Scott and Stiles. Those boys, I swear they haven’t changed since they were kids.” 

That fond smile on her face is one you can’t help but share, with a defeated sigh you meet your mothers eyes.

“I know you won’t tell me any details, but something’s going on right? I’m guessing you know Stiles has changed somehow? You just won’t tell me how, right? He has to tell me himself, or Scott?”

“We never could keep anything from you baby girl. Yes, a lot has changed, with Stiles, and otherwise. Honestly I wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining this. I mean… It’s big, I won’t lie. But I know you can handle this Sadie.” 

You swallow the lump which has lodged in your throat as you stare down at your hands, “I’ll try. That’s all I can say, until I actually know what’s going on. Unfortunately I guess we can’t put this off forever.” 

You stand and take your mom’s offered hand and the two of you make the short walk back to the house, albeit slowly, she knows you well enough to know that you need time to process everything still. 

“If you need space then you tell me. I’ll make sure you damn well get it, Alpha or not, he’s my son and your brother. You know he will do whatever is best for you. If you want, we’ll make them wait until morning? It’s your call, sweetheart.”

“Pretty sure there’s only one thing I can do.”

You straighten your spine and take a deep breath, looking over at the woman on your right. She’s by far the strongest person you’d ever met, and likely ever would meet. You’re pretty sure that you already know what she would do in your position. Clenching your free hand into a fist, you turn to look at her. Melissa McCall could’ve become a victim so many times in her life but she’d never become one, and you intended to follow in her footsteps, no matter how difficult the situation, you wouldn’t let anyone break you.

As if she can read your mind she gives your hand a squeeze and smiles, “that’s my girl.” 

When the two of you return home the house is deathly quiet, no sign whatsoever of anyone outside the house. Immediately your mind goes to the worst case scenario and judging by the slow steps your mom is taking, she’s thinking along the same lines. 

The front door creaking open is the only sound in the house, and it sounds so much louder when it’s surrounded by the silence. “Maybe they just left?” you whisper hopefully, not even believing the words as you say them.

Almost as if by muscle memory, in the pitch black you wrap your fingers around the end of Stiles’ baseball bat, you’re a little surprised that it’s still here, when he doesn’t appear to be. But you’re not about to complain about having a weapon when you need one. As you move through the kitchen there’s the slight drip of the tap, a sound which seems to almost bounce off of the walls in the silence. You can even hear the sound of the wind whistling against the windows but nothing else.

The hand that’s wrapped around yours tightens further, as you’re pulled closer to your mom’s body. You take another step forward when a thought occurs to you, swallowing your fear you whisper once more.

“What about the basement? We sound proofed it, could they be down there and we’re worried over nothing?” 

The moonlight almost seems to light the path as soon as your mom gives you a nod of agreement. The basement had been installed shortly after you’d all gotten Stiles back from the Nogitsune. It had come in handy more than a few times in the past. You feel your nerves escalating, the closer that you get to the basement, the worse your nerves become. You regretfully put the bat down by the door as you carefully turn the doorknob, wincing at the squeak you’re certain will follow. Fully aware that the basement had been sound proofed, and if they are down here, then you wouldn’t know until you open the final door at the bottom of the steps. 

With all of that in mind you take the stairs slowly, carefully manoeuvring around the third step down, since that one has always squeaked rather obnoxiously.

Your entire body feels as if it’s shaking from adrenaline and nerves as you reach the bottom of the stairs, wiping your hands on your clothes, you then reach for the door handle. When suddenly the door opens. You stumble back in alarm, grabbing for the baseball bat, which you quickly hold above your head, quickly stepping in front of your mother. 

However, you quickly lower the weapon, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when your eyes land on your rather dishevelled looking brother.

“Scott, what the hell is going on?” you ask urgently, hearing a deep growl coming from the room behind him, and the clang of chains is unmistakable. 

Your brother gives you a pitying look as he chews nervously on his bottom lip, to your surprise he steps out of the room, gently taking you by the shoulders, he pushes you back into the hallway.

“We should really talk, Sadie. Just come upstairs. Mom could you maybe…” he nods his head towards the door behind him. With a smile she gives your hand a final squeeze, before she releases you. Quickly doing whatever it was he had asked of her, she seemed to know exactly what it was though.

“Come on, we should sit. I’ll even get your favourite ice cream out,” he grins at you, but you know your brother well enough to see that he’s nervous.

“Well, shit. This really must be serious, Scott McCall sharing with the pain in the ass little sister.” Your joke seems to fall on deaf ears as Scott simply sighs, he looks tired, like dead on his feet tired. You gently grab his arm as you both sit on the sofa with the tub of ice cream between you, “Hey, you’re okay, right? You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.” 

“I’m okay, mostly at least. I just really wish we didn’t need to have this conversation, especially not now, not like this, Sades. I don’t even know where to start.” Scott tells you quietly, dragging a hand over his face, the stubble along his jaw is almost becoming a beard at this point. Something so unlike your brother that you’re surprised you’re only just realising.

Seeing your overconfident brother so unsure is so unusual to you, he hasn’t been like this since before he’d become a werewolf. You could count on your hands the few times you’d seen him return to this unsure worried version of himself. Which only made you all the more nervous, but you didn’t want to push him to hurry up and explain. You’d let him take his time, because as much as you needed to know, he was your best friend and your protector. Seeing him like this hurt more than you could've ever imagined.

Moving the tub aside you lean your head on Scott’s shoulder, “Maybe you should get some rest, you look like shit big brother,” you laugh when he shoves you off of him with a grin. 

You turn to face each other, pulling your legs under you, the way you used to when you were kids. When you were wanting to have one of your conversations, where Scott plays big brother and gives you his sage advice. Not that it was always good or right. Half the time it was stuff that you knew already, or stuff that you would never do. But you loved him for trying all the same. 

Your father had left not long after you were born, and as young as Scott had been he’d stepped up for you. He was the one man you knew you could count on, no matter what, and that wasn’t going to change you were sure of it.

“You don’t need to look out for me, Mini, that’s my job, remember. I look out for you,” Scott smiles, gently nudging your shoulder.

“No, you're my brother, that was dad’s job. But I prefer you anyhow,” I smile at him, and lean into the sofa.

“So which is it? Bed or are we gonna do this now?” 

Scott sighs and straightens in his seat, and just like the Alpha is back.

“Oh I wish I could, little sister, you have no idea how good a bed sounds right now. But we’re doing this now.” 

“Okay, I’m listening. Tell me everything that I don’t know about, might as well get it out of the way.”

“You remember a few months back when I went to visit Stiles?” he asks you carefully, and you’re already shocked. 

“This has been going on for months!? You’ve been lying and hiding this from me for months! I understand most of the time Scott, but dammit something that’s as important as this clearly is, you should’ve told me!” you almost shout, unable to hide or hold back your anger. Especially when it quite clearly seemed to concern you.

“Go on,” you sighed apologetically, realising there was no point in being angry about this, of course he hadn’t told you, yet another time he was trying to protect you no doubt.

“Sadie, if we had any idea any of this would end up involving you I would’ve told you the second everything happened.” 

“It’s fine, Scott, I understand. But it isn’t just that this involves me but it’s clearly important.” Shaking your head you clear your throat, before looking back at him, doing your best to reign in your anger. “Anyway, yes I remember, you said something about Stiles needing help, but you never did tell me what he needed help with.” Your need to know more only grows the more he talks about Stiles, something is definitely off, and you’re worried some of your earlier thoughts may have been correct.

Nothing could have prepared you for your brother’s next words however. 

Taking a deep breath Scott tells you the truth of that weekend away he’d had.

“Stiles had been struggling for months. He uh… he was starting to forget things, silly things at first, then he really started noticing it and he called me. He was too scared to go to the hospital, he didn’t want them to tell him what he already knew.” Scott lets out a shuddering sigh, wiping his hands on his jeans. 

Your mind is begging him not to say what you already know is coming, “go on,” you whisper nervously, grabbing his hand when he reaches for you.

A tear drops from Scott’s eyes when he meets yours and you swallow thickly, “I...I convinced him to go to the hospital. Yanno, maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Part of me wishes he’d ignored me, but he needed to know. We needed to start planning. Unfortunately, the doctors only told us what he already knew. Fuck this is hard.” Scott moans quietly, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve. “Stiles had developed frontotemporal dementia. Just like his mother. It fucking broke him Sades, he tore out of that room so damn fast. I followed him, but he told me he needed time to process, just some time alone.” Scott’s voice is shaking so hard, and you feel like your heart just broke in half, but you know only by the look on your brother’s face that isn’t where the story ends.

Clearing your throat you squeeze his hand, “there’s more, isn’t there?” you ask tentatively, feeling the tears fall freely from your eyes. 

“Fuck, do I wish there wasn’t,” he mutters, his laugh devoid of humour. A roar sounds from the basement, and then you hear a door slam. You look at your brother with wide eyes and he sighs sadly once more. “I shouldn’t have let him go alone. He was worried he was being followed during training by something, he didn’t know what yet and he didn’t tell me, not until that day in the hospital waiting room. I should have followed him, but he needed space.” Scott looks up and meets your eyes once more, “I was walking around the parking lot of the hospital when I heard him scream. Then I remembered his stories, and I didn’t even think, I just ran as fast as I could. But by the time I got to him, he was bleeding out on the floor, Sadie. He looked so bad, he was white as a damn ghost, could barely keep his eyes open, I lost it. My instincts… just kicked in.” Scott whispers the last bit as another tear rolls down his cheek.

Jumping to your feet you feel your breathing start to change, as you try to consider what else he could be about to say, but only one thing comes to mind.

“Don’t say it, Scotty, please.” 

He gets to his feet and pulls you into his arms before you collapse, “I did it. I bit him.”

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