#and i found this chart while looking for something else

[creating-by-starlight]

Me, every time anyone says anything about "waiting for The One God has for you"/romantic soulmates/etc: Stop, stop, stop! Why are we implying that everyone has a soulmate when everyone does not have a soulmate? God's going to get nasty letters saying "Where's my soulmate? Why haven't I found my soulmate?" and do you want Him to have to deal with that? I don't think so! Stop spouting heresy being so silly!

[semisasseater]

YEAH, I BROUGHT THE HEAT BACK

데일 듯 hotter, hotter

SUMMARY ‘ y/n pushes jays limits during their promotions which causes him to fuck her brains out ♡

𓊆 爵士 𓊇 x f!reader 㞫⠀⠀ ִ ⠀ 1,007 smut rough sex spanking degradation light face slapping dom/sub dynamics daddy kink overstimulation? slight non-prep penetration aftercare — 类型 smut romance idol au secret relationship

✴︎ LIBRARY ✴︎

‧˚⠀⠀ 🔥⠀⠀ ɞ 作者注 : i need jays cock i need jays cock i need jays cock NOW.

As the days passed, your secret relationship with Jay continued to flourish, even amid the chaos of your group’s comeback. The song Brought the Heat Back was a massive hit, dominating the charts and earning nonstop promotions. But despite the demanding schedule, you found yourself increasingly distracted—specifically by Jay’s ridiculously good looks. Every time he stepped onto the stage, exuding effortless confidence and raw charisma, your mind wandered to places it probably shouldn’t during work.

During one particular photoshoot, Jay sat in a chair, looking like an absolute greek god in his outfit. His sharp gaze and relaxed posture made him all the more irresistible. Your pose required you to sit on his thigh, turning your head towards the camera while keeping your back to it. The moment you settled onto him, a mischievous idea struck you. With the staff focused elsewhere, you subtly rolled your hips, grinding against his thigh just enough to tease.

Jay’s reaction was immediate. His grip on your pants tightened, and his jaw clenched. He leaned in just enough for you to hear his low warning. “Knock it off wait till we get home.”

But you weren’t feeling patient. Pouting, you shook your head in defiance, a silent plea for more. Jay exhaled sharply, his frustration evident, but there was something else in his eyes—amusement. You were testing his limits, and you both knew it.

The next shoot included the entire group—Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Niki. As you all gathered for a group shot, you couldn’t resist pushing things further. Under the guise of casual placement, you discreetly rested your hand over Jay’s crotch, feeling the warmth of him through his pants.

Jay’s fingers instantly wrapped around your wrist, removing your hand with a firm grip. He leaned down, his voice a sharp whisper in your ear. “I said fucking stop it wait till we get home.”

Again, you refused, shaking your head with a playful smirk. This time, Jay’s patience snapped. The warning look he shot you sent a clear message—you had pushed far enough. Finally, you backed down, but the tension between you only grew stronger as the day dragged on.

By the time you both made it home, the moment the door shut behind you, Jay had you pinned against the wall. His hands pressed firmly against your sides as his darkened eyes bore into yours.

“I told you to fucking wait until we were done.” His voice was deep, edged with frustration and something more dangerous—desire.

You barely had a chance to respond before he crashed his lips against yours, his body pressing you further into the wall. Breathless, you managed to mumble an apology between kisses. “I’m sorry daddy… I was just really horny…”

Jay let out a low chuckle, his amusement quickly overshadowed by hunger. “Oh you’re gonna be sorry alright.”

He wasted no time dragging you to the bedroom. Clothes were torn off in a frenzy, and when he yanked your pink panties off, you gasped. “Hey! Those were my favorite!”

Jay smirked, tossing them aside. “Shut up i’ll buy you more.”

As he prepared to stretch you out, you shook your head, voice breathless with impatience. “No… I don’t want that just want your cock.”

Jay froze for a second, brows furrowed. “You don’t want prep? Are you sure?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, I don’t.”

That was all he needed to hear. As he stripped the last of his clothes, he muttered under his breath, “Of course you don’t… fucking slut.”

With a quick flick, he grabbed the lube, slicking himself up before pushing into you in one swift motion. The sudden stretch had you squirming, your body clenching around him as moans spilled uncontrollably from your lips. Jay held still for a moment, giving you a chance to adjust before pulling back and slamming into you again.

Your cries filled the room as he set a relentless pace, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. You clung to him desperately, hands grasping at anything—his arms, the sheets, the headboard—anything to ground yourself. But Jay wasn’t done with you yet.

Flipping you onto your hands and knees, he gripped your hips and started pounding into you from behind. Your knees trembled beneath you, your body barely able to handle the intensity. Each sharp thrust sent you spiraling further, your voice breaking as you whimpered his name over and over.

“J-Jay—please—s-slow down—”

But he wasn’t listening. A firm slap landed against your ass, making you cry out. Another followed, and another, each one leaving a stinging heat in its wake. Tears welled in your eyes from the overwhelming sensations—pain, pleasure, overstimulation—it was all too much. Yet, you didn’t want him to stop.

Jay let out a deep chuckle, his fingers trailing up to your face. With a firm grip, he grabbed your jaw, forcing your head to the side. He watched you, your teary eyes, your parted lips, the way drool dripped onto the sheets. He laughed, rubbing his thumb over your cheek before giving your face a light slap.

“Look at you” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “Fucking ruined.”

Your body shook with exhaustion, yet you still begged for more. By the time he finally spilled inside you, your limbs had turned to jelly, your mind foggy with bliss.

Jay sighed, pulling you against his chest as he peppered gentle kisses along your temple. He scooped you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. The moment he set you down, he helped you onto the toilet, rubbing your thighs soothingly as he whispered, “Come on baby you gotta pee.”

Afterward, he ran a warm bath, massaging your shoulders as he helped you relax. His hands glided over your skin, rubbing your sore legs, whispering sweet words of love and praise.

As the two of you curled up in bed afterward, bodies tangled together, you felt yourself slipping into a peaceful sleep.

Still, one lingering thought danced in your mind—how you were definitely going to tease him again during filming.

@semisasseater

[favefandomimagines]

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys (f.l)

Summary: Y/N discovers a secret that could cost her and Frank everything

Request: @soflowra hiiii!!! could i request a frank langdon x reader where she finds out about the benzos and kind of confronts him? (thank youuuu!!!)

AN: I took some creative freedom with this one lol

The hum of fluorescent lights was constant in the ER, like the white noise of chaos. Monitors beeped, patients groaned, and somewhere down the hallway, someone was yelling about a broken femur. Dr. Frank Langdon thrived in the noise. It kept his mind racing, his hands moving, and the darkness at bay.

Y/N stood in the doorway of Trauma 2, arms crossed over her chest, watching him work. The moment was so typical of him—snapping orders, trauma gown tied loosely around his body, a half-empty Red Bull undoubtedly nearby. Sarcastic, fast-talking, brilliant. God, he was brilliant.

She was on her way back to OB when he caught her eye and winked.

“Should’ve been a trauma doc, sweetheart,” he called out as he approached her.

She rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. “Maybe in my next life.”

They’d been together for a year. It started just after his divorce—messy, public, and the talk of the hospital for months. She wasn’t trying to be anyone’s rebound.

But with Frank, it didn’t feel like that. There was something real underneath all his walls and caffeine highs. Something warm. Vulnerable. Something he’d given only to her.

She loved him.

But lately… something felt off.

It started with charts. She was covering for another doctor in General that week—odd, yes, but she liked to keep her skills sharp. While reviewing a patient’s post-op pain management plan, she noticed the dose of hydromorphone seemed high. Not alarmingly so—just… off. She shrugged it off. Maybe it was an attending’s call.

Then another chart. Then two more. All written up by Frank.

Each time, the dosage ordered was slightly higher than what the patient had been administered.

She brought it up casually while they were at the nurses station after another OB consult he paged her for.

“Hey,” she said softly, “you ever accidentally order the wrong dose on a discharge script?”

His eyes flicked to hers. “What are you talking about?”

“I just saw a few that looked a little high. From you.”

He didn’t blink. “Pain is subjective, right? I go by instinct. Better to have it and not need it.”

She nodded. But her stomach curled, tight and uneasy.

By the end of shift, she couldn’t ignore it anymore. Frank was still Frank, still sarcastic and lightning-fast, still showing up to every shift extremely over-caffeinated. But there were cracks.

When she ran out to his car to grab her jacket, she found an empty oxy bottle in his car’s cupholder. Not prescribed to him, no prescription on it at all.

It was nearly midnight when she decided. She stayed late after her shift, combing through the hospital’s prescription logs. She knew the system. She knew the way people tried to hide it. She also knew what to look for.

Her heart cracked as the pieces came together.

He was stealing. Masking it under the chaos of the ER. Signing off on more than what was used. Logging it as administered. And no one else had caught it.

Not yet.

She confronted him later that night in the on-call room.

Frank was sitting on the edge of the cot, sipping from a fresh Red Bull and scrolling through his phone like nothing was wrong. He looked up, grinned. “Hey, baby. Didn’t think you were on tonight.”

“I’m not,” she said quietly, shutting the door behind her.

He frowned at her tone. “Everything okay?”

“I know, Frank.”

His expression didn’t change. “Know what?”

“I know about the pills. I know what you’ve been doing.”

Silence fell. Thick and suffocating.

He stood slowly, the can in his hand shaking just slightly. “I don’t know what you think you know—”

“Don’t,” she said sharply. “Don’t lie to me.”

He swallowed hard. “Y/N…”

“You’ve been altering scripts. Signing off on meds that were never given. I checked the logs. You think no one would notice?”

“I’m not a junkie,” he snapped. “A junkie couldn’t do what I do every day. I run trauma codes, I intubate drunk driving victims with one hand and hold pressure with the other. A junkie couldn’t do that.”

Her chest rose and fell in a slow, controlled breath. “You’re addicted, Frank. That’s what this is. And I don’t care how steady your hands are or how many lives you save—you’re still stealing. You’re still lying. And if Abby finds out…”

That stopped him. The sound of his ex-wife's name leaving the lips of the woman he loved.

“She will fight you for custody,” Y/N continued, her voice cracking. “And she’ll win, Frank. You think the board will let you near narcotics again? You think a court’s going to hand your weekends with the kids to someone diverting benzos from their hospital?”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak.

“This isn’t just about us,” she whispered. “You have kids, Frank. They didn’t ask for any of this.”

He turned away, his shoulders tight, head bowed like the weight of the room was finally crushing him.

“I know,” he murmured. “God, I know.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat. “You want to tell me you’re not a junkie, fine. But what happens when Abby finds out? When the hospital files a report? What happens when you have to look your kids in the eye and explain why Daddy can’t come around anymore?”

His breath hitched.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she added, softer now. “But this… this will destroy you, Frank. If you don’t stop it now.”

He didn’t say anything.

He laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.” she pleaded. “You lied to me, Frank. For months.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

Frank sat down again, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook, and for the first time since she’d known him, he looked like he might break.

“After the divorce,” he said finally, voice hollow, “I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. Everything I lost. And then the ER… it’s never-ending. One shift bleeds into the next. I needed to keep going. Just… keep going.”

She said nothing. Let him talk.

“So I started small. Just to take the edge off. Then I needed more. And I knew how to get it. Then we got together and you deserved more than the mess that I am.”

Y/N’s eyes burned.

“I’m not proud of it. I’m not… asking for forgiveness.”

She sat down beside him, but didn’t touch him. “So what now?”

He looked up at her, eyes red. “I’ll tell Dr. Robby. I’ll get clean. I swear. I just—” His voice broke. “I can’t lose you.”

She reached for his hand.

“Frank,” she said softly. “You need to get clean because you want to. Not for me. Not for this relationship. But for you.”

He nodded slowly, brokenly.

“But I’ll be there,” she said, “every step of the way. If you let me.”

He squeezed her hand. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Maybe not,” she whispered, “but you still have me.”

[eden031]

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!female!reader

Warnings: angst, death, crack (a patient has a cola bottle in his rectum), Jack Abbot using dark humor to cope, mentions of porn (like once), some fluff at the end, patients being nosy, bad innuendo, the betting pool in the Pitt is going wild, medical inaccuracies, maybe a bit cringe worthy at some points (probably)

Summary: When an uneventful shift filled with bad humor and overheard conversations turns into something more tragic Jack makes sure that his intern doesn‘t break.

A/N: Listen people, I don‘t know what possessed me when I wrote this, it felt like a fever dream but we are moving in the right direction, I think. Please forgive me for the heavy angst in the end of this chapter, the beginning is very cracky and I honestly don‘t know why I wrote it, but it was fun to write and I had a good laugh while writing it sooo… Also this was barely proof read because I had to rewrite it like ten times.

“Alright, fifty bucks that they already fucked,” Ellis sounded way too enthusiastic about this for her to not stop and listen in on the conversation. Halting in the hallway just short of the door to the break room she continued to listen, an IPad for charting in hand.

“You seriously think so?” Olsen sounded mildly astonished at the high bet or maybe depending on who they were talking about the pairing and circumstance. Bets on the staff's personal life were common and she always found them to be rather interesting, already having won over five hundred dollars because she had bet on Nisa dating one of the day shift security guards for over two months.

“Yeah,” Ellis sounded annoyed, “You don’t know shit Olsen, you are always sick for the saucy moments.” Ellis snorted. Suppressing a giggle of her own she leaned against the wall, not wanting to disturb the two residents in their apparently heated discussion.

For a moment she looked around, trying to see if anyone was seeing that she was just standing in front of the break room being nosy. Luckily it was a quiet night and not that many people were running around.

It was fun listening in on these kinds of conversations then to guess who this was about. Right now she was not sure, thinking that maybe it could be about someone from day shift, she was not sure who else they would currently be betting on.

“I mean…” Olsen trailed off for a moment, like he was trying to prove that he still caught some interesting interactions, “I saw him basically hovering over her at some point,” he sounded mildly defeated.

“Yeah, that's why you bet that they knew each other before. I was there for the damn REBOA and had to witness an interaction that basically felt like some weird medical kink soft porn.” Ellis sounded so proud of placing her bet, for a moment she frowned. The only REBOA that had been placed in the last few weeks had been by her. Her brows furrowed, they were not talking about her, at least she hoped not.

“Jesus,” Olsen groaned. A pause, some clinking, probably mugs being shuffled around.

“Yeah, and he is totally looking at her boobs every time she comes up to talk to him. And checking out her ass every time she walks away.” Ellis’ voice was slightly more quiet this time as she spoke. “Never thought I would see Abbot looking at someone like a kicked puppy, but here we are,” a heavy sigh came from Ellis.

An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach, just hoping that they were not talking about her and Abbot, because if they were she would actually start questioning her own sanity. She had been so careful, trying to make sure that no one realised how badly the man affected her.

“But she is an intern, when do you propose they even met?” Olsen sounded almost offended as he spoke.

Deciding that she did not want to hear the rest of the conversation she started heading towards the nurses’ station again, the IPad clutched tightly against her chest. Her face felt hot as she placed it back on the rack, staring up at the board, looking for something she might actually be able to handle on her own for the moment. Humming softly she tapped her foot as she scanned the board, as her eyes found a patient with her name written next to it a pleased sigh escaped her lips.

Rubbing her forehead she glanced over to the room, Josie leaving it with a small smirk on her lips, head shaking. Grabbing a pair of gloves she started heading in the direction of the older nurse.

“Josie!” she called out, jogging towards the nurse. A smile on her face she nodded towards the room the patient was in.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” she grinned slightly as she saw the gloves in her hands.

“Did you get everything for Mr. Hill ready?” she asked as she nodded towards the room of the patient she had just assumed to be Mr. Hill.

“Yes,” she laughed, shaking her head, “If you are curious: this time it was a cola bottle,” Josie still shook her head slightly.

“I am assuming he fell on it while changing?” she asked carefully, having to suppress a laugh as she saw Josie roll her eyes.

“Of course he did, but at least he is in a good mood,” Josie shrugged, “At least in a better mood than most patients that come in during this hour,” she sighed, “I already gave him a low dose of muscle relaxant and set up everything you need to get that bottle out, just call me if you need any help,” the older nurse gently patted her on the shoulder.

“You are an angel,” she smiled as she walked over to the room, pressing open the glass door, then stepping behind the curtain. Mr. Hill was an elderly man, in his seventies, he was a widower, one of their regular patients in the ED at night and truly an angel. Even during a horrible shift Mr. Hill was able to put a smile on the faces of the people that treated him.

“Well good evening Mr. Hill,” she smiled as she greeted the man, a blanket was placed over his lower body and a bright smile already on his face.

“Good evening, darlin’! And how many more times do I have to tell you to call me Richard?” He gave her a glance that made her laugh, shaking her head she put on the gloves. Usually when she started working with a patient the events that had occurred previously washed from her mind and she was completely focused, though right now it felt like her mind was overshadowed by the conversation between Ellis and Olsen.

“Mind if I take a quick look?” she asked, pointing at the blanket, Mr. Hill laughed and nodded, already knowing the procedure. He propped up his legs, quickly she glanced under the blanket nodding slightly she put the blanket back down.

“Looks like it’s wedged in there pretty good,” she gave him a scolding look, she was not sure how many times they had already given him the talk of not putting certain objects in certain places. However, apparently he was not really listening to what they were telling him.

“Yes…” he trailed off for a moment while she grabbed the ultrasound to make sure that there was no internal bleeding.

“Are you alright darlin’?” He looked mildly concerned as she started prepping everything for the ultrasound.

“Of course, Mr. Hill,” she gave him a small smile, “Why wouldn’t I be?” she laughed putting some of the jelly on his belly, sitting down to perform the ultrasound. It startled her that he had realised that she was still a bit preoccupied with the conversation she had overheard.

“Well, I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with that pretty doctor of yours?” he wiggled his eyebrows at her. She only raised hers at that, moving the ultrasound over his belly while she looked at the screen.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Hill,” she laughed softly as she continued to check his abdomen. The issue with Mr. Hill was that for a man his age the man was perceptive, always seeing everything and almost being as informed on the gossip of the ED as Perlah and Princess.

“You know who I am talking about,” he wiggled his brow again, “I am old, not blind, I can see the way you look at the man,”

That made her pause in her movements, feeling heat rising to her neck and face. She tried to stay focused on the task at hand, finally having finished from all angles she started wiping away the jelly from the older man’s belly.

“I still don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Hill,” she gave him a breathy laugh. “Good news is that I can’t see any bleeding right now, so you know the drill, bottle out, wait another hour or so, check for bleeding again, wait for the muscle relaxant to wear off and then you are free to go” she explained, trying to shift the topic of conversation away from the man in question.

As she was preparing to lube up the bottle the door opened and she heard a familiar pattern of footfalls approaching from behind her.

“Everything alright in here?” Abbot spoke in a gentle tone, she could feel him standing behind her, the warmth of his body hitting her back, though she knew he was not touching her. Glancing over her shoulder she felt her throat constrict slightly as she realised how close he actually was. He was hovering over her shoulder, looking at the bottle of lube in her hands.

“Splendid, Dr. Abbot.” A big grin came to the face of Mr. Hill. She sighed, shaking her head as she lifted the blanket slightly. Swallowing harshly she grabbed one of the tools and began distributing the lube around the cola bottle, thanks to the muscle relaxant this should be done fairly quickly.

“And your assessment?” Abbot asked, she could feel his burning gaze on her as she continued to work.

“Should be done in good time, though this time around I would wait a bit longer with the discharge since the cola bottle is not the usual caliber of…” she paused, knowing that theoretically everyone knew what Mr. Hill was up to with these things, but he never actually admitted to it. “Well, objects he falls on,” she cleared her throat. Continuing to distribute the lube around the bottle.

“Alright, Mr. Hill, I am leaving you in her capable hands,” Abbot sounded mildly amused, she heard him turn around.

“I bet you know best, Dr. Abbot” Mr. Hill sounded like he was teasing Abbot, she let out a choking sound as Abbot’s steps halted for a brief moment, before they continued. As she heard the door close she shook her head.

“You are impossible, Mr. Hill,” she shook her head, carefully grabbing the part of the bottle that was luckily still on the outside. She gave him a look, “You know the drill.” she spoke, feeling the bottle move slightly, she pulled on it carefully, trying to apply too much stress.

“I simply told him that he knows what’s best,” he winked at her, speaking in a break from the gentle pushes. She held onto the bottle, they had already been able to get it over the enlargement. It would only be a bit more before it would be easier again.

“You know very well what you did there,” she gave him an annoyed glare. Within the next few moments the bottle was freed and she placed it on the tray.

“Alright, Mr. Hill, how are you feeling?” she asked as she started taking off the gloves, scooting backwards.

“Much better, thank you, dear,” he gave her a small smile. As she got up from the chair she gave him a smile.

“A nurse will be in to check on you soon, in an hour I will do another ultrasound to make sure that there is no bleeding.” she explained. “Also if you feel any lightheadedness or discomfort press the call button so someone can come and check on you, alright?”

“Yes, yes, I know how this works,” he gave her a smile as she left the room, shaking her head as she headed back to central. Mr. Hill had his nose up in everyones business, he knew everything and everyone, sometimes she wondered who his inside source on the hot ED gossip was, usually she would say it was one of the nurses, but it could really be anyone, especially of the night shift where everyone was kept awake by gossip, coffee and spite.

“So,” Josie slipped up beside her, the older nurse looking curious, “How did everything go with Mr. Hill?” she asked.

“Everything went well. I think the man should stop with these shenanigans, but otherwise I think he should be fine. There was no bleeding when I checked and there was also no blood on the bottle, so I just hope that he will be okay.” she sighed. “And he of course has his nose in everybody’s business,” she sighed, shaking her head as she rubbed her face.

“Ahh” Josie laughed slightly, “While on the topic of being in everybody’s business, I know it is none of mine, but mind telling me why Tommy’s been in such a good mood lately?” leaning against the counter Josie grinned slightly.

A snort left her lips as she nodded, a small smirk growing on her lips.

“Yeah, cause he is getting laid,” she answered, a loud clicking sound came from behind her, though she did not turn around, probably just something that had fallen over.

“Seriously?” Josie raised her brow, “Who is the lucky lady? Or lucky lad?” She continued to pry.

“Yeah, seriously. Tommy finally made a move on Maise, I felt like the pining was going to crush me every time I walked into a room with the two of them.” she shuddered lightly, shaking her head. A small smile on her lips as she thought about the fact that her friends were really happy together. Josie snorted slightly as she shook her head.

“While talking about pining…” before Josie was able to finish her question Bridgit shouted from the middle of the nurses’ station.

“We got an incoming hit and run victim, ETA 3 minutes,” her voice carried through the ED.

“Shit,” she muttered as she grabbed a pair of gloves from one of the boxes, Abbot walked past her, already heading for trauma 1.

“Come on!” he half turned as she hurried along with him, grabbing disposable gowns from one of the dispensers she put them on, he tied her gown, she tied his, Olsen also joined them, already wearing his as well. Turning slightly she saw a bunch of nurses getting trauma 1 ready for the incoming patient. They headed outside to the ambulance bay, the patient being loaded off the ambulance as they arrived, she was already intubated, they were bagging her. A young woman, about her age, hair matted from the blood, makeup smeared as they pushed her inside. The EMT rattled off data as they placed her on the gurney in the trauma bay.

Pulling out a light pen she checked the pupil again, the EMT had reported that pupils had been reactive right after arrival, though they were sluggish.

“Extremely delayed pupil reaction,” she reported as she glanced over at the monitor, the blood pressure of the young woman was dropping rapidly.

“Shit,” Olsen muttered as he squeezed some of the jelly on the abdomen of the young woman, moving the ultrasound over her stomach. She put on the stethoscope, listening to the woman’s lungs.

“Good breath sounds on her right side, left almost no breath sounds,” she reported as she pulled off the stethoscope. Olsen moved the ultrasound up and towards the lungs.

“Hemothorax,” he simply said, cursing under her breath she looked over at Abbot who watched them work.

“Prepare to place a chest tube,” Abbot looked at her, she nodded and started to get to work, the shirt had already been cut. Around them the nurses were working relentlessly, quickly she prepared everything for the chest tube, Abbot walked around the table, standing beside her.

“You know what you have to do,” he simply said, she had already placed a chest tube under his supervision a few times in the time she had worked on the night shift. Moving quickly she made the incision, then placed the chest tube, the drainage began.

“Oxygen is going up, blood pressure is still dropping,” someone in the room announced. Olsen cursed as he moved the ultrasound around.

“Looks like a torn spleen,” he squinted as he continued to move the ultrasound head, “And torn liver, shit,”

Abbot stepped around so he could look at the ultrasound, an unhappy grunt left his lips as he shook his head.

“Alright, let’s try to stabilize her so that we can get her up to surgery ASAP,” he ordered, they gave her meds to try and stabilize her blood pressure along with more blood. As she looked up she saw Ellis and Shen running towards another patient being wheeled in from the ambulance bay, a little boy that looked incredibly pale. Tearing her gaze away from the boy she focused on getting this patient stable. Suddenly the weak but steady beeping went into a long single tone.

“She’s flatlining,” one of the nurses shouted. She moved quickly, starting chest compressions. The feeling of breaking ribs during CPR was bad, though this was somehow worse, CPR on already broken ribs that crunched with every push.

“Push an epi,” Abbot barked at one of the nurses. After what felt like hours Abbot took her place, another epi, then a pulse check, no pulse. Abbot was replaced by Olsen, another epi, they circled back to her, ribs cracking beneath the pushes. The nurse at the head of the bed continued to push the bag, for some reason watching the motion of the bag during CPR was calming. Another epi, another pulse check, still nothing to shock. More blood was being pushed, another check, Abbot stepped in.

“Check her pupils again,” he told her, she did. Her heart sank as she shone the light into the eyes of the woman.

“No pupil reaction bilaterally, both pupils blown” she reported. Abbot mumbled something she didn’t understand, looking at Tara who was bagging the woman to get an idea of what he might have said, she also just shrugged. Another epi was pushed, Olsen took over, at some point another pulse check. Still nothing to shock. This was starting to look hopeless. She wasn’t sure how long they were going at it, how much blood and how many epi’s they pushed. Suddenly there was something at the next pulse check, they shocked, and the heartbeat was back. Barely there, like it was only hanging on by a threat, then it was gone again.

Cursing they started over, she was really not sure how much time passed, but the chance of stabilizing that woman was almost zero, too much blood loss from the torn spleen and liver, the hemothorax, a large and thick bruise on her leg suggesting bleeding in her leg. Her hands pressed into her chest, sweat dripping down her back as she continued the CPR, a LUCAS would have been impossible with the mangled arm of the poor woman. It felt like time was flying by and slowing down simultaneously.

“Alright, I’m calling it,” Abbot’s voice cut through the haze of CPR, beeping and orders being called. “Stop compressions,” slowly she stopped, stepping back from the gurney, her heart hammering in her chest as she stared at the young woman laying on the bed. Her long blonde hair matted with blood, the long steady tone of the heart monitor.

Abbot called time of death, one of the nurses pulled a blanket over the body of the woman, taking a shaky breath she pulled the gloves from her hands. Everyone else doing the same, a solemn silence hung over them.

“Hurry up everyone,” Bridgit called out as she opened the door, “There are six other patients coming in via ambulance. All from a car wreck.” That set everyone in motion again, they pulled off the gowns, the woman was moved out of the trauma bay, probably in one of the rooms. She hurried around, getting a new gown and a new pair of gloves. Shen and Ellis looked like crap as they all met in the ambulance bay.

People were being brought in, apparently one of the victims died on scene, trachea slices through, drowned on his own blood, two were heavily wounded and the other three had moderate to mild injuries.

“Shen, Ellis you take the one with the head injury,” Abbot called out as the EMT’s began wheeling in the injured. “Olsen I need you to fix up these three, then come join us in trauma 1,” he looked at her, “We will take the other guy,” she nodded, emotionally preparing herself for maybe another loss.

This time everything blurred together a lot more. Blood everywhere, two open, displaced femur fractures that were bleeding so badly that the EMT’s had to put a tourniquet on them. The man was heavily sedated already, apparently he had been screaming and thrashing around when the EMT’s arrived. At least that was something. They moved quickly, he stopped breathing, they intubated the man. He started seizing, they gave him something to stop it so they could continue to work. Then another long beeping tone, Olsen joined them as that happened.

CPR started, her mind starting to play the Bee Gee’s ‘Stayin’ alive’ as she started compressions. It blended everything else out, the switch, she stood there, watching, waiting. Time seemed to slow as their attempt to revive the man continued. She was not sure how long they went on. Then another call, another time of death was announced.

The room began to empty, nausea settled in her stomach as she stared at the bloodied gloves. Two people were gone, from what she could guess the little boy had not made it, the patient with the head trauma also didn’t make it. Though from what she had picked up he had coded quicker than their guy.

Pulling off the gloves and the gown she headed to the bathroom, splashing her face with cold water. This was not how this shift was supposed to end, this was not how this day was supposed to start. She shook her head, taking a shaky breath. It had been a quiet shift, the kind of shift most people enjoyed, the kind of shift why people worked the night shift. Leaning against the sink she closed her eyes, feeling her head hammering, the exhaustion of probably almost three hours CPR catching up to her. Slowly she made her way out of the bathroom, hearing agitated voices from the nurses’ station.

“I swear I will never say it again!” Shen shouted. Glancing over she could see Ellis staring him down with an angry expression on her face. Everything around her was spinning and it felt like the sigh of the young woman her age on that table haunted her. Blood was pounding in her ears as she made her way towards central, trying to not let it show how exhausted she was.

“You fucking say that all the time! And every single time it ends in a disaster!” Ellis shouted back. It looked like everyone was on edge right now. Taking a shaky breath she thought that she should maybe eat something. Turning around she made her way towards the break room. Grabbing a granola bar from the counter she collapsed into a chair.

“Are you doing okay?” his voice was gentle, it came from in front of her. Glancing up she saw Abbot standing there, a solemn expression on his face.

“Not really,” her voice cracked, trying to hold in the tears as she looked at him. He looked at her. Slowly she opened the granola bar with shaking hands.

“Are you gonna share that with the elderly?” he asked, a hint of humour in his tone. She stared at him, she wanted to laugh, she really did but all that came out was a choked half sob half laugh as she broke it in two pieces handing him one.

“Thanks,” he began munching on the granola bar. She watched him for a moment, he looked up from the bar in his hand.

“You did great tonight,” his eyes locked with hers, his expression serious, though there was a deep concern etched into it. “Except for the part where you almost lost your pants,” his voice was teasing, another choked laugh escaped her. During the hit and run victim she had almost lost her pants while doing CPR, though Nisa had caught on and pulled them up, she had thought he hadn’t seen.

“Thanks,” she sniffled slightly, trying to compartmentalise, still it was hard. Death was never easy, it was never easy to accept. “And thank you for being the rock in the chaos of this ED,” she whispered softly. That made his expression shift slightly.

“My therapist thinks it’s the only time my brain quiet’s down,” he pauses, carefully moving his hand, he holds it out, palm up. “I hope that it won’t be the only time that it quiets down for the rest of my life,”

Staring at the offered hand for a moment she hesitated, not sure if she should accept, but the moment her hand met his it felt like she was anchored to this place, to this moment, not somewhere else, not back in the trauma bay, no right there, right at that moment, sharing a granola bar with Jack.

—————————

Tags:

@antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs

[bestlilithian]

The lilithian experience (lilith dominant chart)

Personal experiences w having heavy lilith influence

- Older people being creepy subtly or overtly, but usually subtly with certain looks or touches or comments, especially strangers in public or distant family friends

- Being told Im scary or intimidating, or that I look mean (a girl once told me she thought I wouldnt want to hang out w her and her friends because I looked 'too pretty and kinda mean') [this is esp w lilith/asc harsh aspects]

- Lilith square asc culture is walking into a room a little pissed or in a hurry and everyone shutting up (also works for mars/pluto)

- Now Ive never heard anyone else talking about this but as a lilithian woman Ive always been disgusted by the idea of having sex with a man because in our culture a woman who has sex w a man is seen as having been dominated and degraded by him ("I fucked her" "I hit that" "I scored") also the act itself is very power struggle-ish like no *I* want to bend over a man and make him suck *my* dick

- Being hyperaware of people looking at you (even if youre dressed extremely modestly or without makeup)

- Lilith/moon aspects 🤝 your mom making inappropriate comments about you and your body

- Lilith/sun aspects 🤝 your father insulting you or making weird comments (more subtle w soft aspects so you might brush it off but its still not okay girl)

- People thinking youre flirting with them or others (esp men) but youre just hot and talking, and you cant help that ppl have strong reactions to anything you say really

- Loving eye contact <3 (w the right people)

- Lilith square saturn culture is not being afraid to stand up to authority <3 and having to quite often because they have a pick on you and try to tear you down

- also w lilith square/opposite saturn grown ass adults will have beef w you when youre a kid, esp those w authority over you like teachers, coaches etc

- Lilith/asc harsh aspects and overthinking whether a fit is too revealing or not (because you dont want to get harassed and looked at again) (but then youll grt harassed even if you go out in a priests suit so 🤩)

- People (esp men) trying to use you for sex

- Always being the one guys want to be friends w benefits with while theyre crushing on another girl

- "I dont like what you do to me" - most men Ive interacted with for a while

- A guy told me he liked me for who I am but he couldnt stand "the effect I have on him"

- lilith in 4th house culture is attracting men w mommy issues and being looked at by guys in relationships

- lilith/mercury and needing to know all your friends bdsm test results

- People liking when youre mean 2 them

- People who hate you often want to have sex w you

- Ive had so many guys in my class literally have to gather up courage to talk 2 me, even for basic things like asking me to help w something, they approach me looking all tense and worked up like Ill slice their head off for asking me to help them with their math lmao

- A classmate (and friend, apparently) of my friend once didnt want to come out and meet me when I went to my friends school to give her something because she thought Id beat her up (for context I found out she said some nasty things to my friend and was not happy about it)

- Being told by ppl (esp men) that I remind them of characters who are villains

- People esp girls not liking me for no reason or being rude

- Guys in relationships being extremely cold and rude to me or even shittalking me to their gfs (you can guess why)

- People trying to 'put you in your place'

- Recognizing other lilithians immediately

- Being insecure about your private parts, your body in general and your appearance

- Sex obsession since a young age

- Sexual harassment unfortunately

[lologoinsolo]

Part 3, Part 4

Minds Us All Masterlist

TW: Mentions of seizures, choking to induce visions, epilepsy and schizophrenia is mentioned, I don’t think there’s more but tell me if there is

Price stands by the board, his arms crossed over his chest as he reads over the scans and the numerous notes from the doctors that Nik sent over. The doctors were as thorough as could be expected but it left more questions than answers.

—High stress and anxiety could be the root cause for her seizures or there could be a potential for something more. The Patient's mother had a history of depression but nothing to indicate anything else. Patient’s health records show that she has not been tested prior for epilepsy or schizophrenia or for being at risk of seizures.

—Paitent experienced no symptoms of those neurological disorders at her young age despite being tested as per the request of Patient’s mother. Granted, the last time the patient was seen by her primary doctor was at the age of 9 years old.

—The most recent visit, which was a year ago, the hospital reported that she left without checking herself out. Her health chart only showed a high heart rate but was, surprisingly, not at risk of a heart attack. Unfortunately there is only so much that we are able to do in the short amount of time allotted to us. In our professional opinion, we believe that she is experiencing these hallucinations under strong duress. It could explain how she claims to ‘see’ the things she claimed she did.

Your brainwaves and the brainwaves of a woman around your age with schizophrenia are placed side by side. The difference between the two scans is stark, an ocean wide difference between the two. That woman’s brainwaves are lit up while yours is relatively normal. The doctors that came to see you cannot know for certain the cause behind your ‘sight’. Stress? Anxiety? That’s where it’s all pointing to at the moment.

Logically, this could explain that your ‘sight’ is caused by a stress factor and he could agree with that if you were spouting bullshit—But, you knew. You knew about Johnny’s near death before anyone could and it very well could’ve been explained if you were a spy. Price could work the spy angle but he can’t work around the fact that you knew about Simon’s family. You knew neither of his men on a personal basis and yet Kyle heard you murmur about Sarah, Joseph, Tommy, and Beth in your sleep. Names that he knows for a fact that Simon would never, ever mention even if he was being tortured.

Price takes in a long, hard breath. Laswell digged up everything she could find on you. Only child, mother was in an out of the psyche ward, father never claimed you nor was in the picture. At age thirteen, your mother took her own life and you were thrown from foster care to foster care up until you were 18 years old. You never went to college, bounced around from job to job. Moved from place to place, constantly moving like you had a reason to. He recalls how bare your apartment was when they came, “no roots to put down.” Laswell found absolutely nothing that ties you to Makarov. Nothing save for coded words you wrote. Furthering the nail into the coffin that you’re not a spy.

His eyes move up from what he’s reading when he hears boots hitting the ground. Doesn’t take a genius to know who’s coming around. “You want to talk to her, don’t you?” Price turns to the side when the Ghost steps inside. Giving his Lieutenant a look, he wasn’t allowed back in your room when the doctors came around.

“Yes.”

“That a good idea?” Ghost’s been spending time longer on the punching bag here lately. Nearly broke it open from how hard he’s been hitting. The safehouse they’re all in allows them a gym of sorts, well… it’s not really a safehouse. This place is Price's, a house far into the country and guarded by numerous trees. A private place that he took you to in hopes of getting quick answers. And just in case you turned out to be what he assumed, there’s enough land here on his property to hide a body from prying eyes.

“Johnny wants to as well.”

Now that… that might be a better alternative. Ghost can handle himself, he’s hung from a meat hook for god sake, he knows how to keep a handle on his emotions. Ever since you made him see what you saw he’s been… off. John’s been keeping a tighter eye on him even though he’s not fully convinced in your ability. He trusts Ghost enough to tell the truth even when it doesn’t sound believable. “Give me ten minutes with her, sir.”

Ten minutes is all he needs, you’ve been awake and alone for the past two days. You willingly allowed the doctors to help you, didn’t argue with them for fear that you’d be killed most likely. Or maybe you knew that they’d find nothing.

“I’ll give you that,” Price uncrosses his arms, stepping towards Ghost and his lieutenant doesn’t move away. Stays still like a statue. “Best to let Johnny go in first before you do, yeah?”

Ghost grunts out a “yes, sir” before he turns to leave. A man on a mission in how he steps. Price needs to sit over this, think over what can be done. Laswell mentioned that you should be tested one more, three times the charm after all.

…

Kyle came in earlier to bring you food and clothes to change out of. You asked him if you would be able to leave now but he gave you no reply. Only placed the food on the table and left. You don’t know what’s worse. The fact that you’re alone and craving some kind of contact or the fact that you’re glad he nor the one called John has come back to interrogate you. You don’t think you’ll be able to handle it once more.

Your mind has been empty, to say the least. The doctors recommended medication but you know they’ll do no good. It’ll only make your curse worse and do you no favors. Sometimes this’ll happen though, sometimes your mind will get so quiet that you’ll beg for a vision. It’s a horrible cycle but it’s one you’ve always known and it’s better than the silence. On the bright side, at least that Ghost hasn’t come back. You don’t know how you’ll react if he does or what he’ll do to you.

There’s a small pinch in the back of your mind but it fizzles away almost as quickly as it came. You brace yourself for what’s bound to come.

A knock sounds on your door, an illusionment of courtesy. The knob turns and in walks a man that you’ve met twice but have seen over a hundred times over in your mind. “Hello, bonnie.” There’s a jagged pink scar on his left side, his hairs a little longer, not the mohawk you saw originally. Beard grown out and scraggly looking, he looks rougher than you remember. “Can we,” he pauses a little to step into the room and you freeze up when Ghost steps in as well. “Can we just talk?”

Ignoring him in favor of seeing him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you immediately say to Ghost. “I’ve never done that before. I didn’t know I could do that. I’m sorry.” You still see his family's faces in your mind, can smell their blood staining the walls and on their Christmas tree. You’ve seen a lot of things but you could never stomach seeing deaths. “I’m—“

“Hey, hey,” Johnny comes your way as he speaks gently to quell your rolling anxiety. Your body flinches involuntarily from where you’re sitting on your bed by the sound of his steps. “Ye didnae ken ye could do tha’. We just want to talk.” Johnny pulls up a chair and notices the food at the table. You haven’t touched it nor the other two plates either. “Ye need tae eat, lass,” he laughs slightly, hoping to ease you, “when I was in and out of the hospital I—“

“I want to go home.” You cut him off. His hand twitches, “tell them, tell them I’m not a spy or a soldier or—“

“And where would you go home to, little bird?” Ghost’s arms are crossed over his chest. He stands besides Johnny, “got a place to go home to that we haven’t figured out yet?” Johnny turns to give Ghost a look but he ignores it in favor of continuing on. “Your visions tell you where to live now?”

“I’m sorry that you saw what you did. That wasn’t my intention, it’s never my intention. I can—“

“I didn’t ask for an apology.” He growls out, your knees tuck to your chest immediately. “How did you see them? Tell me.”

“Ghost,” Johnny tries to intervene in some way but it’s no use.

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” Your voice growing insistent, begging for him to understand. “It’s— it just happens. I-I can’t help it.”

“Can’t help it.” Ghost mutters under his breath. The muscles in his back are tense, pulled taunt. You’re like a fluttering bird in a cage from how you squawk the same thing over and over again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop. Apologizing.” He takes a step towards you and you scoot back further up the bed, practically pressing yourself into the corner. Johnny stands and places a hand on Ghost’s shoulder. The anger simmers only a little but the tension still stays. Ghost’s hands ball and flex, “can you do it again?” He asks, more like demands.

There’s a hush pause that overtakes the room, even Johnny looks to you for an answer. “I…” you swallow thickly, shaking your head slightly. “I might?”

“Might?” He doesn’t sound pleased with how unsure you sound.

“It’s uh…” you never knew how to explain it, your mother could never explain it herself either. “When…” you take a breath, “when you look into a kaleidoscope do you see the same thing if you move it around?” Johnny shakes his head no but Ghost does nothing, “that’s… that’s kinda how it’s like for me. Sometimes it’s clear enough that I can see it many times,” flickering to Johnny, his moments haunted you for the longest after all. “I don’t know if I can see yours again, Ghost.” His was more than just his memory, it showed a pocket of time before he even saw it. “I’m,” you almost say sorry again but you bite your lip.

“Price said ye started seeing mine after we met,” one accidental touch that led you here. Your visions never hanged around long, it’s why you came to the practice of writing them down. Your curse, for some reason, latched onto Johnny’s future and never let it go. “Saw it for about a year, did ye ken ye’d find me? Is that why ye came up to me?”

You cross your legs, feeling just a smidge at ease while you pick away at your fingers. “I couldn’t have day to myself without seeing you.” You look down to the shorts you're wearing, missing the look that settles in Johnny’s eyes. “There would be this static feeling in my head the closer I thought I got to you.” He was like a flame and you a moth, only the static got louder and louder the closer you were next to him that day. Maybe you weren’t supposed to find him…

“I’m sorry, hen.” You shake your head but he slowly steps closer to the bed. His knees bumbing the edge of the mattress. “I wouldnae be alive without ye. I heard yer voice in my head when I was on that mission. Heard ye screamin’ for me to pull back and I did.” He’s calm in his approach as he takes a seat now. Scared you’ll try to bolt off the bed if he moves too quickly. “Fucker still got me.” He points to his head, the scar telling a story of an almost death. You prevented that. “Shoulda seen me in recove—“

“Let me go home— please.” He sighs at your attempt to leave once more. “I won’t say anything, I won’t talk about this to anyone—“ your muscles seize when Ghost comes closer, his steps heavy against the floor. There’s no way to leave, you know their names save for Ghost. You’re hanging by a thread that can be snipped at any movement. “Please.” You can’t run or they’ll give chase but even then, there’s only so much space left in here. Boxed completely in with one sitting on the bed and one that could easily tackle you.

“I want ye to try,” Johnny sits closer to you now, the bed groaning under joined weights. “See somethin’ again, show me somethin’, hen.” His hands start moving for you now. “Can ye do that for me?”

“I-I don’t know if I can. I don’t,” you bite your bottom lip when his hands wrap around your wrists. His fingers wrapping firmly around them but still enough room that you could twist if you wanted to. “Please, stop. I don’t know if I can make it happen.” There’s the smallest of a buzz in the back of your head. “I’ve never been able to—“

“Try,” is all he says as he pulls you forward enough that you have to sit on your knees. Your trembling, fingers shaking as he maneuvers your hands to cup his face. You can’t pull away even when you try to do so. His blue eyes search yours, his scar damn near pulsing under your cold hands. “Just try, lass.”

Wobbly and unsteady like a newborn doe, your knees are weak as you close your eyes. Brows pinching tight lines in forceful concentration. Your curse only works when it wants to, never for you. The time spent goes to show that it’s not working the way they want it to, “I can’t,” you say once more. “It’s not working.” Hoping they’ll understand, you’ve never been able to just make it happen.

“Maybe you need some motivation,” Ghost doesn’t give you a chance to turn as he lands a solid hand on the back of your neck. The air you had in your lungs punches out, “just need some fear to get it rolling.” The last two times was through fear and if he needs to choke you out then he will.

“S-Stop—“

“I’ll start squeezing,” he warns, his thumb digging in, “won’t take much to make you pop.” He’s cruel in his laughter, Johnny says nothing as his grip stays steady even when you try to tug. “I’ve broken necks easily, just needs,” Ghost’s thumb presses deeper over your raging pulse, “enough force and it’ll crack.”

“Please!” Chest heaving now, anxiety shoots through the roof as your eyes are wet and frantic. You can’t move back, can’t move forward, can’t even swing to the side to get away. You try once more to make it work but, “it’s not wor—“ gasping suddenly. The walls of your throat tightens from his fingers coiling around it like a vice grip. A sharp static jolts to life, his hand squeezes more, air begins being cut off from you.

Your vision starts building up faster, almost painfully now as your grip onto Johnny’s head tightens. An itching, scratching noise burrows in the back of your head. There’s a screeching, halting sound, like nails that claw down a chalkboard but stops before finishing. It echos in Johnny’s ear that he winces at the same time you do. Your vision blurs whether because of the loss of air or because your curse is letting you see once more.

Laughter. Kids, 4. 1 boy. 3 girls. Blue eyes. Backyard. Swing set, swinging. Laughter.

Johnny inhales a breath, he sees the blurred moments alongside you begin to form. Like a projector being cranked to make an old timey movie start. It’s slow but starts to pick up in pace, pushing through the memory faster and faster. Barreling down the spirals of a pocket of time.

You can see a young Johnny playing with his sisters. It’s a warm sunny day, the heat beating down on them and you. He’s swinging and his mother is yelling at him to get off to come eat some snacks. He swings as high as he can before jumping right off. His sisters scream when he lands hard, blood on his mouth and he pulls a tooth out. There’s laughter from him, he’s laughing. His sister, his oldest sister is—

You struggle for air, lungs painfully begging for something to breathe in. You're pulled out, shoved forcefully away from the memory. Figures form in the shadows as your eyes look wildly around. “Good,” you hear Johnny say but it’s distant, far away from you. Miles away. Your forehead is heavy against his shoulder, you don’t know when you did that. Did you do that? Must’ve done so as your mind started twisting into knots, for once you don’t convulse like you typically do but something is wrong. Really wrong.

Ghost let go of your throat the second you started gasping for air. Only seconds for him but to you? You saw 30 minutes of Johnny’s memory. “Well?” He peers down at the both of you, “report, Johnny.”

Johnny tugs you easily into his lap, your body limp against him. “I saw it, Ghost. Saw it like I was there.” They speak now as if you’re not there. Are you here? Where are you right now? Your head tucked under his chin as your heart beats fast while you feel like your realities are blurring and blending together. “We cannae let her leave.”

“Never planned to, Sergeant.” A voice that’s not Ghost’s sounds from behind the two. Price leans against the door frame, he knew they were up to something. Just had to let it happen.

The shadows dance around in your mind, the kaleidoscopes of moments and memories of your own past starts to mash together. The webs are all sticking and rolling into a ball. You feel like you're floating and crashing at the same time. It’s becoming harder and harder to pull away from it. Harder to separate what’s real and what isn’t. Johnny holds tighter to you when you begin shaking. Head hitting against his chest as—

“We need to sedate her.”

— the static buzzing noise sharpens louder and louder. Your fingers spasm and hands thrash around, writing out words in the air. Make it stop, make it stop.—

“Not yet,” Price comes forward with a pen and paper, “she’s seeing something.” Ghost watches in cold curiosity, his eyes squinting under his mask as Price sticks a pen into your thrashing hand. He balls his over your right hand and holds the paper in his left. You jerk it around, scribbling jagged lines till words start forming.

Stop. Stop. Make it. Stop. Let go me. Let. Hand, Let.

“Tell me where Makarov is.” He whispers into your ear. “Where is Vladimir Makarov?” Your eyes roll back into your head as your legs kick out. The lower half of your body flails about while your upper is held tightly. “Write it down.” His voice echos in your head, becoming like an arrow as it breaks through the maze. Zeros you in like a beacon to follow and you fall deeper into the spirals of your vision.

Make it. Make off. Her. Her in. Rus. Northern. Lights north. Rush, make her off. Old. Building. Under, under. Guarded. Old, guarded. Weapons.

You fill the page with words you see that pile in your head. Picture like moments pour into your mind’s eye of a man you’ve never seen. It’s only half a second intervals, like someone’s slowed down the internet speed to the lowest setting possible.

Man. Man, 1. Talk, yells. Rush in. Rush. Hidden. Under. Ground under. Men. Loyal. Men. Men. Men. Cold, snow. New Clear. Nu. Er. Er, boots. Boots. Boots. Blinding Lighstj thaoies gbauqot—

Price pulls the paper away once your words start becoming unreadable. “Good enough,” he gives no sedation this time. You’ve never needed it before, “let her rest, Soap.” He allows you that as your left on your side. Soap reluctantly stands up as you're left to tremble, you’ll pull out on your own time. He reads over what was written and a location comes to mind. “I’ve a feeling I know where our Russian is.”

[aklaustaleteller]

Some Invisible String

Ever since the news of Klaus' death reached her, Y/n's heart remained shattered as she happily accepted the sole purpose of her immortal life to be mourning her love. But then a looming shadow out of the Mystic Grill catches her attention and to whom is it that some invisible string had tied to her for centuries?

Warnings - a lot of grief in the beginning but it ends happily I swear!

Word Count - 1.9k

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

And part two to 'Should've known' is here!! I don't know how the hell did I manage to involve the song Invisible String into this, but it's turned out to be quite cute in my opinion, so I hope you like it as well <3

Y/n lived on to live a life as merely a withered shell of who she used to be. That new vampire girl who had found solace in Klaus’s human arms and in art, the one who had just begun falling back in love with life was long gone, stripped off of Y/n as if she’d been skinned alive.

Doing anything sent a heartstopping wave of hurt rippling through her flesh and bones. When she breathed it felt like air burned her lungs and tried to strangle her heart, leaving her mouth as she'd wake up gasping for it to return back inside and finish the job. 

Tears pricked her eyes each night, her sniffles blocking out the air making her throat feel like it was being ripped out, her lungs and heart as if they were collapsing. That’d be, until she’d finally fall into that peaceful slumber in which she’d always return to lay in Klaus’ arms after being torutured by the grief that consumed her wholly.  

So wholly that her sole purpose for the immortal life ahead of her felt like it was to mourn and grieve her love. Something that she’d been willing to do just to preserve her love for him, for always and forever. 

But living in a world that took birth, grew old and then died, Y/n could go anywhere she wanted, anywhere but home to Klaus. She was left with no other option than to just flee before she could even mistakenly call a place her home. 

It had been three hundred years. Three hundred years of restless nights, lifeless days and a heartless blood thirst that had her leaving a trail of blood behind on her move. So many years spent hiding her face beneath cloak-hoods, running into other supernatural creatures who were immediately frightened by her post in the vampire chart, and running away from the stupidly careless killers who couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that were she to die, every single vampire would end up dead too. 

It was rare for her to lose her patience, but it happened nonetheless – on the nights that she wanted to be wanted, to be loved and to be held so desperately that she couldn’t bear sight of a beating heart that was caged in the warmth of another’s safe hands.

No matter where she went, she couldn’t forget about him. It had taken her a while to realise that she didn’t want to forget him,  but in the meantime that she hadn’t, she had turned away from everything else that she loved. From art, to history. Everything. 

She avoided all of her dark red dresses as they reminded her of him never once failing to tell her how much he loved the colour on her, so much so that he’d bring that colour to her face while he’d slowly slip the dress off of her. So gentle was his heart that he even loved the crimson red that would slip out of the corners of her mouth when she’d feed, either off of him or anyone else – the way he’d wipe it off for her, and kiss her on the very same lips made her heart race to the point that she felt like she might just die from his touch. 

On letting another hand graze her frame, she couldn’t help but stop it before things could escalate because her heart couldn’t let her mind to just let go for a little. Looks of disappointment and calls of slurs would be thrown at her by betrayed men, smirks or sympathetic looks passed to her by women who were witnesses to the assault.

Despite the cunning shards of her broken heart cutting her on the insides, she woke up every day and went outside to explore, just so that she could tell Klaus about it on starry nights, which were getting rarer and rarer in some places, Y/n had realised. 

Just like every other morning since the past fifty or so years, she woke up and got decent before leaving her house. This day, she was walking the streets of Mystic falls, a small town that might’ve been attracting a little too much trouble than it can handle. And it was always the teenage girl with two vampires brooding over her who seemed to be the main magnetic pull, taking everyone who loved her with her into the dark pit that she’d dug herself.

Strolling inside the Mystic Grill, Y/n looked around and her eyes quickly met with the raven-haired man’s, who waved at her like he was a Villain going around toying with people like his puppets. It made her chuckle but despite that, she walked over to him and sat on one of the bar stools beside him. 

“One Old fashioned please,” she told the bartender before turning to face him with a smile on her face. “So Damon, got another deal to make this morning?” She teased him, smirking once he was rolling his eyes. 

“You know me so well,” with a sarcastic smile, Damon downed the rest of his drink. “And yes, I have got one,” he admitted, still. 

Since she’d set foot in this town, the whiny group that consisted of him and his friends had been breathing down her neck, trying to strike a deal with her left right and centre as if she was going to say yes just out of pure annoyance. 

And they should’ve caught by now, the fact that she wasn’t one to lose patience over such lousy things but she didn’t mind the constant bother, it kept her busy and a little entertainer, dare she say. 

She would even sit with them in their boarding house and point out the unimaginably huge plot holes in their plans that led Damon to slam her into a wall with his hand around her neck. “You make one for her if you’re so clever, then,” he’d snarl and before he could let her go, she’d have smashed his face right into the wall she’d been pinned to. 

“How stupid do you have to be to make such mistakes is beyond me,” she’d sighed. “One of these days you’re going to get your heart bloody ripped out,” she almost advised him, narrowing her eyes when he rolled his, holding his head in pain. 

But still, because she’d crashed into people who were somewhat similar to her and didn’t need to hide from, she found herself wanting to stay a little longer, maybe she was finally going to let it rest and begin picking up the pieces of her broken heart. She doubted she was ever going to be able to put it back together, but at least she would have them picked up. 

“What is it?” She asked Damon, knowing that even he knew that it’d be rejected the moment he’d spill it.  

“We are going to kill Katherin…” Damon trailed off, not even meeting her eyes because despite the fact that he’d convinced everyone back at the house, he knew that this was nothing but a dire call for a mess out of stupidity. 

They sat in there for a while, Y/n pointing out mistakes and Damon glaring at her before fixing the hole and moving on. The time had quickly escaped them and as their conversation neared an end, a strong force of gravity began pulling her heart down into her stomach, knowing that the restless night was finally creeping up on her, all over again.

She hugged him quite awkwardly because of Damon’s disdain regarding touch, and walked behind him as they exited the place. The sun had begun setting, causing the anxiousness inside Y/n to begin eating away at her for the night. “I hope I won’t have to see you tomorrow, you exhaust my brain,” Y/n mumbled, fishing out her car keys. 

“Oh c’mon, you know my stupidity will kill me,” he repeated her words, making her roll her eyes with a grin forming on her face. Biding their goodbyes, Damon crossed the road to walk home while Y/n went to her right, towards her car. 

And it was then when she noticed a dark figure looming in the shadows, making her clutch her keys tighter. God, she truly wasn’t in the mood to kill today. 

“And you are?” She asked, still at the very distance that she’d stalled at, her vamp-instincts buzzing underneath her skin, preparing her to defend herself from a possible attack and to kill the darer. 

The man walked out of the shadows then, the streetlight shining down on him. He slowly raised his gaze but when it landed on her face, all arrogance and smugness dropped down from his face as he felt his breathing come to an abrupt stop.

Y/n knew she most likely had the same expression on her face as the man standing in front of her, and she began taking hindering and wobbly steps towards him. “Is that you, Nik?” She breathed, her whisper loud enough to be caught by his mystical hearing. 

When he didn’t move an inch, her hand frantically moved to place itself on his neck. “Niklaus?” She called louder this time, bringing him out of his trance as a sudden rush of air hit his lungs. 

“Y/n,” he whispered, his hand coming to hold hers and in whoosh they had their arms wrapped so tightly around each other that it was a surprise not a bone had cracked. Klaus’ body immediately came to rest as it remembered this feeling to be the very same as when Y/n used to hold him, back in the days. 

Klaus was really here and she was in his arms, and he was holding onto her with just as much desperation as she was.

She brought herself away from his neck, tears leaking out of her eyes as she scanned his face. “How?” Her question came out in a breath that Klaus immediately sucked in, pressing his lips to hers. 

Passion coursed through their bodies as Y/n’s body moulded itself around Klaus’ to grasp at every scrap of touch it could find. Her hands clutched the collars of his jacket, pulling him impossibly closer to herself while she pushed herself into him, her nose smushing against his cheek.

And Klaus’s shoulders were bunched up beside his neck as his hands cupped her cheeks, holding her still as his tongue clashed with hers, eager to claim back what's been his for a long time. 

To catch their breaths, they broke the kiss but Klaus made sure he was still holding her and he looked into her eyes when she rested her forehead against his’. 

“It was your blood,” Klaus smiled at her, watching something light up within her eyes on realisation.

“I’ve spent all these years looking for you,” he continued, pressing a quick kiss on her mouth. “It was as if there was some invisible string, tying me to you,” he looked at her so softly with tears reddening his eyes that Y/n couldn’t help but let slip a broken sob, her face wet with her own tears. 

“Isn’t it so pretty to think?” She asked him, voice barely above a whisper as her mouth brushed against his when she spoke. “That a single thread of gold tied me to you?”

[starssbythepocketful]

Pretty Girl, Jealous Girl

Word Count : 1.2k

Part Two (Part 2 is NSFW)

Part of my Spencer Agnew x Hecox!Reader AU

Contains: Female reader, mention of drinking (reader has 2 drinks totes), party setting, jealous reader, some other lady hits on readers man, small make-out scene, suggestive ending(?). Pic found on Pinterest

Smosh Masterlist

You didn’t go to parties very often. Neither did your boyfriend, Spencer. But, being Ian’s sister meant getting dragged to the occasional LA Youtuber Party.

And that’s exactly where the night found you. You had forgotten who’s house you were at, not sure Ian had actually told you, two drinks into the evening and still aware enough to get by–for the most part, Spencer had already stated that he wasn’t planning on drinking, that way he could still drive the both of you back to his apartment. You knew some of the people present, a few other Smosh members had come, and you were fairly certain you had seen Markiplier at some point but it was too fuzzy to be sure. You and Spencer hadn’t planned on staying long, Friday night parties tended to get hectic and wild and it wasn’t really either of your scenes. But, you loved hanging out with your friends, so what harm could a few hours do?

A lot apparently.

The night had started out fun. You had quickly found the other members of your Smosh group–Shayne and Courtney, Ian, Anthony, Angela, Amanda, and Olivia. Then, of course, you and Spencer completed the group. There had been a karaoke machine set up and you and Amanda had swooped in and had the time of your lives singing Mama Mia. Now that it had gotten deeper into the night, you chose to stick back a bit more. Who knew who would record and circulate your awful renditions of Abba songs.

You and Spencer had actually been gearing up to go for a while, you just didn’t know where he was. He had said something about saying goodbye to Shayne and Courtney, while you finished your drink with Angela out on the back patio.

“You know what, I’m just gonna go find him, he’s probably talking to Shayne about something,” you said to Angela. “I’ll see you Monday morning?”

She looked over at you, quickly swallowing the sip of her drink. “Want me to come with?”

You smiled and shook your head. “Nah, I’ve got it! Finish your drink and have some fun! Text me when you get home though, that way I don’t worry.”

“Gotcha. I’ll see you later!” Angela gave you a quick hug before heading off to locate Amanda.

Making your way back inside, you took note of how much more crowded it had gotten in your time outdoors. The kitchen was fuller and you knew that you no longer recognized most of the faces. The now crowded space made your head spin as you pushed your way through the bodies into a less crowded room.

You made your way into a dining area and caught sight of your brother talking to Anthony and someone else you didn’t recognize.

“Ian, have you seen Spencer?” you asked, coming up to the group.

Both of the men turned to you.

“I think he’s in the living room?” Ian stated. “Last I saw he was talking to Shayne and Court.”

“Can you not find him?” Anthony asked.

You shook your head. “No, I just hadn’t made it that far and thought I’d save myself the trouble."

"You staying at Spencer's tonight?" Ian asked.

"Yeah," you said.

Your older brother nodded, "'Kay, text me when you get there so I know you aren't dead."

You laughed, having basically just told Angela the same thing. "Will do."

You said bye to Ian and Anthony, nodded to their other conversation partner and left the dining room in search of your boyfriend.

The living room was packed and the speaker was loud, some Chart Topping song blasting way too loud for comfort. Definitely time to go.

Your first quick scan of the living room yielded no familiar faces, so you made your way deeper into the room.

Only to catch sight of your boyfriend and some woman you had never seen before. Spencer's back was to you, but the look on the girls face made your stomach roll. You stopped.

And rage reared it's ugly head as you watched her put her hand on his chest and lean forward.

Spencer, to his credit, pushed her hand away and stepped back, stance becoming closed off. If he said anything, you couldn't hear it over the music.

However, you still felt something grean and mean rear its head. You stomped over to them, taking a spot by Spencer, your eyes never leaving the other woman. Your glare went completely unnoticed by her, she was too drunk to see it.

"Can we help you?" She slurred.

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised and angered by her attitude. “Excuse me? You're the one who's putting their hands on my boyfriend. I think I should be the one asking that. Who even are you?"

You squinted at her in the weird party lighting, trying to place who she was. Nothing in your memory came up, maybe she came with someone? Or snuck in? It didn’t matter, she wasn’t worth it anyways.

The woman scowled, opening her mouth but you held up a hand. "Stop. Don't embarass yourself any further. Just..." you made a shoo motion with your hands and turned your entire back to her.

The woman stared at you, slack-jawed, before scowling and storming off.

You let out a deep breath and your rage simmered into annoyance and something you couldn't quite name.

A warm pair of hands tugged at your own, pulling you out of your thoughts and down a hallway, stopping inside of the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you.

"You okay, pretty girl?" Spencer asked softly, his eyes unreadable in the small bathroom.

You focused on him, nodding. "Yeah, I'm good. Just kinda pissed off...and, I dunno. I just didn't like seeing her touch you."

"I'm sorry, babe. I told her, like, three times that I had a girlfriend--"

You shook your head to stop him. "No, Spence, I saw you push her away, you don't have to apologize. I trust you. I just got..." You sighed again, looking down.

Spencer took a step closer. "You just got jealous?"

You nodded as you suddenly became aware of how close the pair of you stood, he was close enough for you to feel his breath. You stared at your hands, mild embarassment flooding you as you picked at your nails.

"Pretty girl," Spencer's voice was soft. "You gonna look at me?" His hands had settled lightly on your hips, the familiar smell of him clouding your senses.

You look up, meeting his eyes. What you saw surprised you. You could barely see the color with how blown out his pupils were.

“It was hot watching you tell her off,” he explained, crowding closer to you. “Like, really hot.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

The party on the other side of the door faded into a background hum as he kissed you. Where you were used to lazy makeout sessions and warmth, you were unprepared for the heat.

You weren’t even aware that you had moved until you felt him pushing you up against the bathroom door, warm hands rubbing circles on your hips as you threaded your hands into his hair. Teeth tugged at your bottom lip and you let yourself get caught up in him.

Eventually he pulled away and you frowned. Spencer pressed his forehead to your shoulder, pulling himself together as the pair of you caught your breath.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he said. “I’ll take care of you at home.”

xXx

Part 2! (NSFW)

[astrolook]

Synastry & Composite Observations from Clients

Astrology is a fantastic tool—it reveals the energy between two people, the potential of a relationship. But let’s be clear: good synastry does not mean lasting love, and a “perfect” composite chart doesn’t guarantee happiness. At the end of the day, charts don’t live our lives—we do.

Today, I’m sharing some synastry and composite chart observations from my clients—because astrology says 'meant to be,' but my clients said 'absolutely not.'

We love looking at celeb couple charts and going, ‘Ah yes, they’re together because of this Venus-Mars magic!’ or ‘Their composite Moon in the 7th seals the deal!’ But no—people are much more than their charts. Timing, attraction, emotional baggage, and plain old life all play a role. Some couples with dreamy synastry crash and burn, while others with absolute train-wreck charts somehow make it work for decades. Astrology is fun, but love? Love is beyond these things.

Client 1: Wanted to know whether the guy she's seeing is compatible with her. Synastry shown some conjunctions, both good and hard aspects and sexual intimacy as well. But looking at his natal chart , he had North Node in his 8th house of Taurus. I had a feeling that he is either bisexual or homosexual. Along with the explanation of all aspects and placements, I concluded that they do have sexual intimacy but his north node in his 8th house says something about his sexuality. Their composite chart had Virgo stellium in 10th house which had venus-moon-mars aspects. A week later she messaged me saying that guy (one of her friend's brother) is actually gay and not into women at all. When asked how she found out, she said he saw him making out with a guy he usually goes out with (as friends)and he apparently hid it from his family as they are deeply religious.

Client 2: Divorced in 1.5 years. Same career. After divorce, She came to me to know why their marriage didnt work out. Honestly their chart had so much potential. His saturn trined her ascendant. Composite Venus-Mars conjunction in 10th house. Her Gemini Sun falls on his 8th house gemini. Her north node in leo falls on his 10th house leo. Her venus-mercury falls on his 9th house cancer. Her mars on his 11th house virgo. His venus in gemini on her 10th house. her moon in his 5th house of pisces. Some saturn ,venus, mars aspects between them showing great potential. Had composite jupiter in 7th house. Composite Moon in 9th house. I told ever, admitted that, It really looks great on paper, both synastry and composite of theirs, showing sexual compatibility, frequently travelling together etc.

She told me finally that in their 1.5 years of married life, she can count how many times they were together. They do travel together for work and he even helped her career a bit. She concluded her intimacy with him in 2 words, "Dead Bedroom". They slept in different rooms. But seemed to be a marriage out of convenience rather than real love. He wasn't touchy at all. She came out depressed as she really thought they gonna last and had soulmate connection. But, nope. She finally told me after their divorce, he married someone else 3 months later and seemed to be enjoying his life and she felt betrayed as she wasted 6 months of dating and 1.5 years of married life. It is really sad and that client really stood to me. I couldn't sleep well that night.

Client 3: Divorced after 15 years together. They had a child too. Their synastry and Composite chart is what we call these days "soulmates". First of all, I do believe in soulmate stuff and all but wait. She is a cancer ascendant. He is a capricorn ascendant. Her virgo moon in his 9th house. His Taurus moon in her 11th house. Her 7th lord saturn is in his 9th house of virgo too. Her scorpio mars in 5th house was in his 11th house. Composite chart Stellium in 2nd house and North Node in 5th house. Looking at other placements and aspects on both synastry and composite, it does signaled long-term.

They ended their marriage after 15 years. She told me that he treated her like a doormat. Abusive and toxic too. So many placements and aspects could be considered a soulmate connection in this modern era. Fated or divine connection or whatever you wanna call it. It didn't work. She put up with him for the kid but 3 years before their divorce, he started having an affair with another woman who was also married and had kids like them. Behind her back. She finally ended it.

What I learned from this:

A good synastry chart doesn’t mean you’ll last. A perfect composite doesn’t mean you’ll be happy. At the end of the day, relationships require more than just “good astrology.” They require communication, aligned values, attraction, effort, and, oh yeah—mutual desire to actually be together.

So next time you see a 10/10 synastry and a good composite chart with someone, ask yourself: Do I even like them? Because if the answer is no, your stars can be as aligned as they want—it won’t make a difference.

And if you don’t believe me? Go check your synastry with people you don't like at all. You might be in for a rude (or hilarious) awakening. 😆

Want to know more about your life? DM me for a complete astrology reading and look at my pinned post for pricing.

I felt like I had to write about this today and hope you all like it. Lemme know how you felt too and share your synastry and composite experiences in the comments!

[slut4thebroken]

Blue

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | It’s way too easy to find a lab coat lying around, walk the halls of a doctor’s office unnoticed, and read the charts posted outside the rooms to pick a patient (victim).

Warnings | Smut, dubcon, technically non con, deepthroating, filthy oral (duh), throat pie, face fucking, blue balls, used the word ‘balls’ way too many times lol.

Words | 1.2 k

Notes | Based a lil bit on this that I saw the other day lol. Idk what this is tbh but enjoy it you horny bastards.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Mr. Lewis?” You asked, peeking in through the door, pleased to find a decently attractive man sitting in a hospital gown on the exam chair. 

“Yeah— yes.” He cleared his throat, blushing a little at his flustered response. “Neil.” You pushed the door open the rest of the way, then closed it behind you, smiling at him. 

“Nice to meet you, Neil. I’ll be checking you out today. What seems to be wrong?”

“I’ve been having some stomach issues. I don’t know, it might just be a bug or something.” 

“I see… Can you lay back for me please?” You walked over and opened some drawers until you found a spare stethoscope, then put it on, pressing it to his lower stomach and nodding a little before moving it somewhere else. “Hm…” You said with a frown. 

“What?” He asked, sounding slightly panicked. 

“I think I know what’s wrong, but I need to do a more thorough examination to be sure. May I lift the gown?” His eyes widened slightly, but he nodded so you lifted the bottom of the gown. “I need you to remove the rest of your clothes.”

“Why?” He choked out. 

“I suspect you may have epididymal hypertension. It’s quite serious, but very treatable.” His eyes widened even more and you could tell that he was getting nervous, but he still pushed his underwear down, then took them off his legs while you placed the stethoscope back in the drawer. “Thank you, Neil. This examination should be painless, though you might feel slight discomfort.” 

Without gloves, you lifted his flaccid cock so it was resting on his stomach, then you cupped his balls, making his breath hitch. Neil was looking anywhere but at you as you fondled and gently squeezed his balls, performing your “examination.”

“It’s as I feared.” You sighed, still cupping them. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the discomfort in your abdomen spreading to your testes. Thankfully, the treatment for this is quick and relatively simple.” With your free hand, you suddenly grasped his cock and started pumping it slowly. 

“W-What the hell are you doing?” He choked out, hips instinctively flinching up toward your hand. 

“Mr. Lewis, if you go any longer without ejaculating, the pain could spread to more parts of your body and become irreversible.” You said sternly, not faltering in your ministrations on his cock and balls. 

“Ejaculating?” He echoed in disbelief. “But I- I just… this morning.” He was struggling to speak as his cock fattened up in your hand. 

“For some men, they can last longer between sessions. But for others, like yourself, they need to release sperm multiple times a day or they risk it building up to an unsafe amount.” You explained, picking up the pace on his cock. 

“Because of the severity of your condition, a simple extraction with just my hands won’t suffice.” That was all you said before diving down and throating his cock all in one go. 

“Fuck!” His hips bucked wildly, so you used your hand that was previously on his cock to hold him down and limit his movement. “T-This… doesn’t seem- professional.” He managed to choke out, barely able to speak as he writhed on the exam table. You bobbed up and down on his length quickly, drooling and gagging on his cock as it kept getting fatter and harder in your mouth. He threw his head back with a groan, his hands tightly gripping the edges of the chair.  

You moaned around his cock, then suddenly pulled off, spitting on it obscenely before diving down to give his balls some attention. His cock twitched on his stomach as you licked, sucked, and kissed all over, making a slobbery mess of saliva. When he started whining and squirming, you grabbed his cock to resume stroking it while you lavished his aching balls. 

“Holy shit,” he said through a breath, his back arching off the chair. 

“They’re so swollen…” You mumbled against him, then your tone turned more stern as you chastised him, “You can’t let it get this bad, Neil.”

“I- I’m sorry.” He mewled, the words trailing off into another moan. 

“You should be. This kind of thing can be very dangerous.” He whined loudly when you pulled away from his balls, still stroking his cock. “If you don’t drain your balls at least twice a day from now on, your condition will continue to get worse, do you understand?” 

“Yes.” He choked out, his eyes rolling back in his head. 

“Do you need to come now?”

“Oh god- please.” He sobbed, his hips bucking and squirming relentlessly under your touch. 

“Give me every last drop or we’ll have to do the treatment again.” Neil nodded dumbly in response. You leaned down to start sucking his cock again, your hand moving back to his balls that were starting to draw up into his body as he got closer to his orgasm. You practically sucked the life out of him with the way you were rapidly going up and down on his cock, taking it in your throat, choking and gagging on it, spit dribbling down to his balls. 

“F-Fuck… I’m so close.” He whined, starting to thrust his hips up in time with your movements, meeting you halfway. You let him do it, using one hand to brace yourself on his thigh while the other played with his balls. 

“Every drop.” You reminded him, barely pulling away enough to get the words out. He was panting heavily, grunting and moaning, his cock twitching in your mouth, and his balls tightening up, preparing to unload. 

“…Coming-” was all he could get out before his hips violently bucked up into your mouth. He let out a loud moan, his balls pulsing in your hand as they pumped out ropes of come through his cock and down your throat. You moaned around him, not stopping until you completely drained him dry. 

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily. Neil kept his eyes closed as he recovered while you did another physical examination of his balls, making him whine because of how sensitive he was. 

“They feel less swollen already.” You smiled. “How do they feel?”  

“Good.” He murmured, still come drunk. 

“That’s good. Remember, Neil, at least twice a day.” He nodded and you pulled the gown back into place, then cleared your throat and wiped away the remaining spit from your lips and chin. “I’ll send a nurse in to give you your visit summary.” 

“M’kay.” He mumbled sleepily, smiling a tiny bit. “Thanks.” 

“Of course. I’m glad I could help.” You opened the door quietly and peaked out, then quickly left the room and closed the door behind you, making your way to the bathroom. Once inside, you took off the lab coat you had found earlier and stuffed it in the trash can. 

Neil was definitely your favorite so far. Either he was too dumb to realize something was off about his “doctor” or he was just so starved for female attention that he didn’t care. Either way, you loved that he barely put up a fight or asked any questions, and you felt more than satisfied for today after “treating” him.

[hyperbolicreverie]

an au of losing time where law is swapped with the younger version of himself that's already joined doflamingo

Ooh, fun. Snippet below the cut.

Penguin's not going to say it's the first time he's ever heard screaming and cursing coming from Law's room, but it's definitely the first time he's heard it at that pitch, and while Law generally likes to be left alone for most of his moods, it's different enough that Penguin considers the matter to warrant further attention.

So when he opens the door and a tiny ball of rage in a fluffy hat rolls out before he can even get a word of greeting past his lips, he resigns himself to it being more than an average Tuesday.

"Bepo?" he says a few minutes later, as he enters navigation. "When you said our path was going to take us close to Kairos Island today, how close exactly did you mean?"

"Within sight distance," Bepo mumbles, turning away from his charts. "Why--oh."

Penguin knows he must look a sight, standing there with a miniature Law scruffed by his collar, and sporting a few cuts and a black eye where he hadn't been fast enough, but in his defense, their miniature captain had come out swinging with a scalpel he'd found in their Law's bedroom. Only the sturdiness of his coveralls and his own speed had kept him from being hamstrung.

"I will kill you. I will turn you inside out and when my crew finds me, they'll do even worse," his assailant is spitting, swinging like a pendulum from the end of Penguin's arm.

"Oh seas," Bepo whines, staring at the ceiling as if something there could save him. "Doflamingo?"

"Doflamingo," Penguin confirms. There was no mistaking it; he'd been threatened with retribution at the hands of the Heavenly Demon at least a dozen times on the walk here. "Aren't we the lucky ones?"

"I didn't know the island could do that," Bepo mutters, sighing. "We didn't even touch ground."

"Maybe it awakened," Penguin grumbles, dodging a tiny foot aimed at his ribs. "In which case, I vote we never come back to this area of the Grand Line ever again. Tiny Law was at least tolerable, but you remember what he was like in his early teens."

Tiny Law stops squirming for a moment. "The fuck you mean, the Grand Line?" he demands. "I was in Spider Miles!"

Penguin sighs. "Look, kid," he starts. "We're going to go to the galley and get you some food and water. You are going to behave yourself, because we--" He points Law's face in the direction of the nearest porthole "--are underwater, and I don't know about you, but I don't fancy getting crushed and drowned today, and I know for a fact that I'm a much better swimmer than you. And then," he stresses, when Law makes a motion to argue even further. "We will explain what is going on."

"He's not going to believe it," Bepo points out morosely.

"Of course he won't believe it," Penguin scoffs. "At this point, I am offended that I have no choice but to believe in it. It's stupid. It's a fucking island."

"You two are pretty shitty kidnappers, you know that, right?" the gremlin in Penguin's hand points out.

Penguin sighs again. He hopes their Law is having a better time of it. Or at least not panicking. But given where the kid had clearly come from, Penguin wouldn't bet on it being quiet.

Meanwhile...

The man who had appeared out of nowhere at the Family dinner table, taken one look at where he was and launched into the most terrifying display of devil fruit prowess that Rosinante had ever been privileged to witness looked strangely familiar, but he was having a bit of trouble concentrating on why exactly that was.

He had noticed that every time he tried to do something he found himself turned around, or his bullets redirected somewhere else. All the kids had been neatly stacked in a corner too, though the stranger seems to have managed to tie them to their chairs without using his hands.

The rest of the Family was...not so lucky.

Doflamingo in particular was getting the brunt of it, and Rosinante had lost count of the number of pieces he was in now. It was hard to keep track of them when the air was full of pieces of multiple people. Multiple, somehow still alive people.

Eventually, whatever adrenaline is powering this impressive display wears off, and the man slumps bonelessly into the nearest chair. He takes off his hat and runs one long-fingered hand through dark hair, muttering something about islands and devil fruits and his luck, which he seems to think is poor, despite what he'd just done.

Despite being dismembered in ways Doffy could only dream of replicating so cleanly, his brother is laying into the stranger, promising retribution with a familiar grandiosity that Rosinante can't help but think rings a bit hollow when your head is sitting on a literal silver platter on the dinner table like a side of beef.

The man seems to agree, because he points at Doffy's head, not even bothering to look at him.

"Re:Room. Silent."

The resulting effects are so like Rosinante's own power that he forgets himself, making a choking noise of surprise that's a bit too audible for a purported mute.

The stranger looks up at him, and Rosinante is caught by the look in his eyes. Familiar, and yet not. Angry, but for some reason not at him.

"Sorry, Cora," he says, and it feels almost sheepish. Totally unlike the fury he'd seen before. Now the man just looks tired, and exasperated. "If I promise to explain, do you think you could call Sengoku? Impel Down's feeling a bit empty."

Rosinante feels his mouth open and close. How does this man know him, know Sengoku? Is he another undercover operative? A CP agent? Did Sengoku just get sick of how long this mission was taking and send someone for backup? He'd at least have appreciated a heads up if that were the case.

But from the way Doffy is silently screaming in both their directions now, his cover seems blown anyway, so...maybe he doesn't antagonize the superpowered man with the dangerous hands? Being done with this mission does sound appealing, regardless.

And where did Law sneak off to, anyway?

"Yeah, okay."

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

loml

Request: absolutely need u to write a fic about roy kent’s controversially young ex gf writing so long, london about him and the teams reaction to the realization. happy ending or not 👀

Roy Kent x Popstar

1.7k words

Warnings: Language, angst, age gap, did I mention angst?

A/N: It's been a minute since I posted anything! This definitely put me deep in my feelings, not gonna lie. Enjoy all the emotions 😝

Roy clenched his jaw as he rounded the corner to head towards the changing room and his office. There wasn’t the usual ruckus that greeted him before training; instead, he followed the sound of what he realized was music. And it wasn’t the usual rap or energetic pop the lads usually blasted and sang along with, either. No, this was slow, haunting, something that left Roy tightening his grip around his black duffel bag.

Thinkin, how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

Oh, the tragedy ...

So long, London

You'll find someone ...

The breath caught in Roy’s throat as he came to a skidding stop outside the changing room door. He knew that voice. He’d heard that voice humming in his kitchen. Giggling in his ear. Whispering into his chest. Sighing in his bed. For almost two years, that voice had filled his home and his heart, bringing warmth and joy to both places. And the lips that voice came from always formed the most beautiful smile, the smile he always wanted to kiss right off that pretty face- and fuck, he sure tried his best every chance he got.

Gritting his teeth, Roy took one step into the changing room, doing his best to ignore the immediate stares of his squad. He hated the looks on their faces, all filled with sympathy, reminding him way too much of the faces he saw after his retirement. He swore he saw guilt in some of their expressions, too.

Of course they felt guilty. They’d been caught listening to his ex-girlfriend’s new album. The album that had skyrocketed to the top of the charts since its release over the weekend. The album Roy couldn’t quite bring himself to listen to yet. The album, he knew, that she had written about him.

Refusing to meet anyone’s eye, Roy stalked into his office, closing the door firmly behind him. Beard and Nate were nowhere to be found; they were probably on the pitch, he reasoned. He ignored the feeling that they’d probably want to give him some space with the album’s release.

Everything had started off innocently enough. He’d taken Phoebe to one of her concerts, motivated purely by his desire to be a good uncle. Keeley had been kind enough to arrange a meet-and-greet before the show. And, while Pheebs was definitely thrilled to be meeting the popstar, it was Roy who was left completely starstruck. She was beautiful and charming, not to mention down-to-earth and so kind to his niece. He spent the whole concert enchanted, jaw slacking slightly as he watched her strut around the stage with a magnetism he wasn’t sure he’d ever encountered before.

Fuck the almost two decades between them; Roy Kent was smitten.

Apparently the feeling was mutual, because the next thing he knew he and Phoebe were invited backstage after the concert, where the young singer had shyly thanked them for coming and asked if she could come watch the Greyhounds sometime. She was so timid for someone who had just rocked a stadium filled to the brim with thousands of screaming fans; Roy found her bashful, blushing face nothing short of endearing. How could he ever say no to her?

So he didn't. For two years, he never said no to her. He wanted to adore and spoil her the way no one else ever had, and she let him. The only condition was he had to let her do the same. So, for the first time in goodness knows how long, Roy Kent let himself be loved.

It was perfect. She was perfect. Roy found himself laughing and smiling more than he ever had in his entire miserable life, and it was all her fault. Never mind the articles and tweets about their age difference, condemning him for being with what they called a “twenty-year-old girl”. (They never could differentiate between twenty and mid-twenties, Roy had thought as he rolled his eyes at yet another opinion piece about his relationship.) They had both agreed that the abundance of affection and respect between them was more than enough to ignore what she always called the “haters”, and he called “wankers with nothing better to do”.

After about a year together, Roy found himself thinking about houses. And rings. And babies. And forever. And less and less about their age difference. While he never said flat-out that he wanted to marry her, they both seemed to know where things were headed. And, thanks to her songwriting, so did her fans. Not that Roy minded; for once, he was in a relationship where he didn’t mind having his business paraded around for the world to see. Hell, he even did some of the parading from time to time.

But, like every other good thing in Roy Kent’s life, it didn’t last forever.

He could deal with the judgy headlines. He could deal with the invasive paparazzi. He could deal with the ribbing from his friends and family. He could even deal with being the subject of pretty love songs. But just as he was starting to look at engagement rings, an article came across his newsfeed. And this one, unlike the million others he’d ignored and rolled his eyes at, gave him pause.

It was about her. It was about how young she was, how in the prime of her career she was. About how Roy was going to tie her down and take her out of the spotlight. About how she could say goodbye to the already legendary career she’d spent the better part of a decade building. About how all that hard work, all that potential, would be swept away the moment he put a ring on her finger.

About how it would be all Roy’s fault.

He couldn’t do that. Not to her. So, he made up some shit about not being ready to settle down, about how he didn’t think marriage was for him, about how he didn’t want to waste her time. And she’d listened, with those understanding eyes and her mouth in a straight line. While she wasn’t afraid to shed a couple of tears in front of him, she didn’t shout or fight him. All she did was lean close and ask one little question:

“Are you sure?”

No. No, Roy wasn’t fucking sure. He had never been less sure in his entire fucking life. As she gathered her things in stony silence, Roy had to stop himself from telling her to stop, that he’d made a mistake and that of course he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But, like the idiot he was, he just watched silently. And he watched as she disappeared from the public eye, as the papers reported their breakup, as she reemerged at the fabulous parties thrown by her fabulous friends, as her outings with various men sparked rumors of new romances; in short, Roy watched as she moved on from him.

And now, a little less than a year after their breakup, with the release of this new album, he was sure she’d cemented how over him she was.

Despite knowing he had a football team waiting out on the pitch, Roy decided he needed to listen. To one song, at least, he reasoned with himself as he opened the music app on his mobile. Beard and Nate could handle the team for a few minutes, couldn’t they?

As he skimmed the track titles, he spotted one that caught his eye: So Long, London. He’d heard that phrase in the song the guys were playing; surely this had to be the same song, right? With a trembling breath, he clicked on the song and closed his eyes.

I stopped trying to make him laugh.

I stopped CPR, after all it's no use. The spirit was gone, we would never come to.

And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.

I'll find someone.

Just how low did you think I'd go?

You swore that you loved me but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof.

For so long, London… Had a good run… A moment of warm sun… But I'm not the one.

Every word stabbed at the heart Roy hadn’t realized was still so fucking raw. All that regret that he’d buried away under football and bottles of beer finally bubbled back to the surface, reminding him of how deeply he wished he could go back in time and stop himself from letting her go. He somehow felt even more gutted than he did the day he lied and said he didn’t want to be with her anymore.

“Fuck,” he growled, stopping the music and opening his texts. He typed that familiar name, pulling up texts that he hadn’t looked at in months. He gulped, remembering all the memes, all the texts about what to have for dinner.

She’d probably ignore his text, he warned himself as he started typing. Hell, she probably already had him blocked. Part of him hoped she did; it would be a lot better than the absolute dressing down he deserved after breaking her lovely heart.

Still. That stupid little part of him that was willing to admit that he was still completely in love with her emboldened him.

She’d always made fun of him for signing his texts, he recalled with a reflexive smirk. She’d made fun of him for lots of things; fuck, he missed her teasing, the way she’d raise an eyebrow when he growled at her to fuck off. The way she’d lean close and hum, “Make me.” The way-

Hey, just listened to ‘London’. Incredible as always. I’m sure the rest is too.

-Roy

The whistle from the mobile in his hand dragged Roy out of his reminiscing. With another gulp he looked down at the first message she’d sent in months.

Thanks, Roy! I’ll actually be in London next week. Maybe we could catch up while I’m in town.

Despite himself, a smile broke out across his face. He wasn’t much of a believer in second chances, or fate, or happily ever afters. He was so sure all good things had to come to an end eventually.

But maybe, just maybe, some things could begin again.

Tags: @i-am-mrsreckless

[sativariddle]

Hi! if you're okay with doing requests I'd like to request one, with George x Weird girl reader type thing? Like she's kind of off in her own world most of the time, she has odd hobbies and people don't really pay attention to her but George notices her, something along those lines if you could do that I'd really appreciate it!! You don't have to of course, but I really love your works and would love to see your spin on this!

AUTHOR’S NOTE; got a little carried away bc this ask made me kick my feet in the air. I LOVEEE ITT enjoy!!

hogwarts had always been noisy.

the corridors hummed. footsteps echoing on stone, distant laughter slipping through secret passageways, the occasional bang of a spell gone wrong.

but for you, it was quieter than most would expect.

you drifted through it like a ghost, not because you were shy but because you simply existed differently.

while other students rushed to classes, fretting over essays and quidditch matches, you paused to trace the cracks in the walls, wondering how many years it took for a stone to fracture like that.

you memorized the way shadows stretched long and thin before dinner, how they seemed to yawn alongside you.

you were the girl who collected oddly shaped rocks and swore they had personalities. the girl who believed puddles were portals if you stared into them long enough. the girl with ink-stained fingertips and star charts folded into every pocket.

george weasley never meant to notice you.

at first, you were just another blur in the chaotic tapestry at hogwarts.

a background character.

but then, there was the moment—small, insignificant to anyone else, but the kind of moment that sticks to you like honey.

it was a thursday, overcast and gray, with a drizzle that made the castle smell like wet stone and old parchment.

george was late for transfiguration, sprinting down the corridor with fred, both laughing breathlessly after pulling a prank that left filch covered in enchanted feathers.

rounding a corner too sharply, george collided with something—or rather, someone.

books scattered. a glass jar slipped from your hands, shattering dramatically against the stone floor, releasing what looked like… marbles? no. tiny glass orbs filled with swirling colors, like miniature galaxies trapped inside.

george blinked, stunned, as you dropped to your knees, frantically trying to scoop them up, your expression more devastated over the broken jar than the fact you’d just been bulldozed.

“oi—sorry ‘bout that,” george managed, kneeling to help. he picked up one of the orbs, holding it to the dim light.

the colors inside shifted like liquid stardust. “what are these?”

you didn’t even glance at him. “they’re memories.”

george snorted, thinking you were joking. “right. whose?”

now you looked at him, gaze sharp and distant at once, like you were staring through him rather than at him. “no one’s yet. they’re empty.”

fred, impatient, called from down the hall, “come on, georgie!”

george hesitated, then set the orb gently in your palm. you didn’t say thank you, just cradled it carefully, as if he’d handed you something fragile.

that should’ve been the end of it.

but it wasn’t.

because after that day, george couldn’t stop noticing you.

it’s strange, really—how you can see someone once, and then suddenly they’re everywhere.

like the universe flipped a switch, unlocked a new character, and now they’re woven into the background of every scene.

the way you sat alone in the library, sketching constellations in the margins of your notes. how you whispered to plants in the herbology greenhouse as if they could hear you.

the time he saw you crouched by the lake, holding a mirror to the water, watching the reflection ripple like it was telling you its secrets.

you were odd.

and that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.

weeks had passed, and george found himself seeking you out without meaning to. not in an obvious way—just little things.

sitting closer to you in the great hall, though you never seemed to notice.

lurking around the library under the pretense of “studying” (fred never bought that excuse). even lingering in the corridors you frequented, pretending to tie his shoelace when you walked by.

he’d done a few things he wasn’t proud of just to catch your attention, but you were never easy to impress.

you remained oblivious.

until the day you caught him.

it was charms class.

george had been doodling nonsense in his notebook—half listening, half watching you from across the room as you carefully crafted what looked like a miniature solar system with floating, enchanted marbles.

after class, george tried to be smooth.

he sidled up beside you as you had already packed your things.

“so,” he began, trying for casual. “are you secretly a cosmic witch, or do you just like making tiny planets for fun?”

you didn’t even flinch. just looked at him with those unreadable eyes and said flatly, “why do you keep staring at me?”

george choked on his own charm.

“staring? i wasn’t—staring. i was just—observing. there’s a difference.”

“observing implies intent,” you replied, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “so what’s your intent, weasley?”

he had nothing.

no clever comeback, no witty retort.

just an awkward, “dunno. you’re interesting.”

that made you pause.

not blush. not smile.

just pause, like you were processing the word as if no one had ever used it on you before.

you replied, “people think i’m strange.”

george smirked. “strange’s just interesting with a bad reputation.”

── ⌗ ꒰ time jump ꒱

their friendship—or whatever strange thing it was—grew like ivy. not fast or obvious, but quietly persistent.

george learned you loved thunderstorms because they made the world feel honest. that you hated pumpkin juice but drank it anyway because you simply liked the color.

that you collected lost buttons from the corridors, claiming they were “tiny artifacts of forgotten moments.”

you keep a notebook filled with sketches of clouds, each one named and assigned a personality; gregory, the anxious cumulus, always on the verge of unraveling, and beatrice, the dramatic cirrus, stretching herself too thin just to be noticed.

you insist some clouds are in love with each other, their shapes shifting to stay close even when the wind pulls them apart.

you collect broken things—buttons with only two holes, cracked teacups, watches that no longer tick.

you believe imperfections tell better stories, that something flawed has lived more, felt more.

your dorm shelf is a tiny graveyard of beautiful, useless objects, each piece quietly existing, cherished simply because you decided they mattered.

you believe stepping over the same floor tile twice in a day brings bad luck. so you walk in zig-zags, completely serious, as if defying invisible curses stitched into the stone.

you think the grand staircase is alive, its moods dictating where it leads.

you thank it politely when it takes you the right way, as if it could hold a grudge.

you claim certain books whisper to you—that’s why you never pick them logically.

you run your fingers along spines until one hums beneath your touch, and that’s the one you choose.

and somewhere along the way, he realizes—he doesn’t just find your oddities entertaining. he finds them beautiful. because you notice things no one else does.

little, ordinary things most people overlook. and somehow, impossibly, you noticed him too.

but have you noticed?

have you noticed the way he’s liked you since the day he saw you.

have you noticed the way his body always leans into yours without thinking, drawn to you like your clouds in the wind.

have you realized that your warmth—simple, effortless—has been keeping him from the cold far longer than you know?

you had learned that george weasley was more than jokes and pranks.

that he laughed loud to fill silences that scared him. that he was brilliant with spells but terrible at remembering homework. that he carried grief like a hidden scar, tucked beneath his humor.

how, even though his hair is naturally messy, he can’t help but sometimes try different styles in front of a mirror, looking for a new, slightly better look—though he still always ends up with that signature wild hair.

when he’s on his own, he often talks to himself like he’s in a conversation with fred, sometimes even practicing jokes or brainstorming business ideas aloud.

when george is feeling stuck, he might have an internal debate out loud, weighing two sides of an argument like he’s trying to convince someone else.

his tone goes from passionate to ridiculous as he switches “sides,” eventually laughing at himself for how seriously he takes it all.

he’ll sit with a cup of tea or a crystal ball, pretending to read the future. “ah, i see… danger… or possibly just dinner. maybe a bit of both,” he’ll murmur to no one in particular, fully invested in the act for a few minutes before fred would burst out in laughter.

one night, near christmas, you both sat at the top of the astronomy tower, wrapped in blankets against the biting cold.

fred was off somewhere with lee jordan, and george had claimed he needed ‘fresh air.’

you talked about the stars, as always.

you pointed out constellations, tracing them with your finger in the sky.

george watched you more than the stars.

“do you ever feel like you don’t fit?” you asked quietly, breath visible in the cold air.

“all the time,” he admitted, surprising himself.

you glanced at him, expression soft.

“but you’re…you. you’re funny and loud and—”

“doesn’t mean you fit,” he interrupted gently.

he was right. people pick and choose—no one truly fits in. you just have to let everyone be themselves. it’s better than pretending, though george has mastered the art of that.

you didn’t look through him. you looked at him.

“i have a gift for you,” you said, breaking the silence as you reached into the pocket of your hoodie.

george cleared his throat; you always had a way of turning his thoughts into a tangled mess.

you turned toward him, suddenly shy as you held it out. a small, unassuming package wrapped in crinkled parchment, tied with a piece of deep blue thread.

george frowned.

he tore the present open with impatient hands.

he was always a little too eager, a little too curious for his own good. his mother liked to remind him that kind of curiosity could get him killed.

he thought differently.

driven by curiosity, he took the time to get to know you.

inside the box was a single glass orb.

a marble.

but not just any marble.

it was the same one from the day they’d collided—the day he’d knocked your books flying and picked up one of your tiny galaxies. only now, it was different.

no longer empty.

inside, colors swirled more vividly than before—brighter, richer— purple and deep crimson threads twisting together in a cosmic dance.

it pulsed faintly in his palm, warm despite the winter chill. george turned it over in his fingers. “what’s in it now?”

you didn’t answer immediately.

instead, you reached into your pocket, pulling out your wand “hold it,” you instructed softly.

george obeyed, the orb resting snugly in his palm. then, with a delicate flick of your wand, you tapped it lightly.

the world shifted.

george felt weightless—like the floor had vanished, like he’d been pulled through a bubble, thin as soap film. light blurred around him, colors stretching and folding until—

he was standing… somewhere else.

it was hogwarts, but not as he’d just left it.

the corridors were slightly hazy, as if viewed through frosted glass. and there—across the hall—was himself.

with a grin too wide to be confident, balancing a teetering stack of enchanted objects. fireworks tucked under one arm, a fanged frisbee spinning dangerously in the other hand, and—merlin’s beard—was that a bouquet of flowers made entirely of self-inflating balloons?

george groaned. he knew exactly when this was.

the day he’d tried to impress you.

it had been weeks after their first proper conversation, and he’d decided—against all reason— over-the-top display of “weasley charm.”

it had gone terribly.

in the memory, george watched his past self approach you, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor near a window, sketching in your notebook.

“greetings, oddball!” memory-george announced far too loudly, startling a nearby first-year. “got something for you!”

you looked up, quill paused mid-stroke.

memory-george attempted a dramatic flourish “behold!” he tossed the bouquet with a triumphant grin.

the bouquet exploded.

not with confetti. not with sparks.

with an actual bang.

the self-inflating balloons detonated mid-air, sending scraps of rubber and glitter everywhere.

the fanged frisbee panicked, bit memory-george’s ear, and the fireworks—oh, sweet merlin— the fireworks ignited prematurely, shooting sparks down the corridor, causing chaos.

memory-george stood in the aftermath, covered in soot, ear bleeding slightly, with nothing but his charred dignity.

you blinked slowly. then said, in your usual monotone:

“…was that supposed to happen?”

real george groaned, rubbing his face. “i can’t believe you kept this.”

but then something veered.

because the memory didn’t stop there.

in the scene, as memory-george turned to flee, humiliated;

you smiled. just the tiniest bit.

a smile hidden when he wasn’t looking. a soft, secret curve of your lips as you watched him walk away.

the memory faded, colors dissolving until george was back on the astronomy tower, the marble still warm in his palm.

you stood there, quietly watching him.

george cleared his throat, heart pounding. “you—you kept that? that disaster?”

you shrugged. “it wasn’t a disaster to me.”

it wasn’t. the way he tried so hard to keep everyone from panicking while the chaos seemed endless—it made you laugh. you found it cute how panicked he was.

[leon-stupid-kennedy]

Leon was not a rookie, and Krauser was not his mentor in the original Operation Javier canon

Something I find interesting is just how wildly different the scraps of Operation Javier given in RE4R are from the original Operation Javier presented in the Darkside Chronicles, particularly the Leon/Krauser dynamic. So I'm going to ramble about the original.

Like I said, Leon was absolutely not a rookie.

In fact, he was actually Krauser's superior. No ranks are stated directly in game, but there's a couple things that lead me to that conclusion.

In the cutscene titled Conviction, Leon reveals he's actually on a special mission from the president. And he has to reveal it, because Krauser didn't know. I also believe the cutscene implies that Krauser didn't even know what their mission actually was, because Leon also states what his mission is. Partial transcript:

Leon: Javier knows something. He's been able to prevent Manuela from transforming. I have to take her with me and find out how. [Leon passes his phone to Krauser] Krauser: Anti-virus Weapon Protocol number 7600... You're on a special assignment for the President. Leon: My mission... is to eradicate this virus once and for all. And with your help, I intend to do just that. Krauser: Well, I am a soldier. And if your orders are from the President, then I'm on your side.

To me, it looks like the situation was that Leon was really the one in charge. All Krauser seemed to know at the start was that there were several missing teenage girls in the area and that they were looking for a drug lord named Javier Hidalgo, who may have been purchasing B.O.W.s from Umbrella. I think that if they were truly equal partners, Krauser would have also known the details Leon did, that it was a special mission for the president to totally eradicate a virus.

Not convinced? In the character archives, both the Guide and Manuela have text backing this up.

Leon is referred to by name, while Krauser is not. Krauser is simply part of "Leon's team" and "Leon's unit." Leon was the leader of Operation Javier, Krauser was just there to support him, some extra muscle.

Leon was more experienced/knowledgeable than Krauser in one way

Krauser was a very experienced soldier, but he had zero experience with B.O.W.s. In fact, he didn't even believe they existed! From a transcript of the game's first cutscene:

Krauser: So, you think B.O.W.s actually exist? Oh wait, you said you faced them before, huh? Leon (as the narrator, not actually speaking to Krauser): This is my first mission with Krauser. He's a soldier with the U.S. Special Operations Command. And has quite the resume of accomplishments in the field. But to him, after all he's been through, B.O.W.s, Cryptids... They're all the same.

Krauser wasn't "Major" Krauser

He was actually just more of a mercenary. While he was working for SOCOM for this mission, the Communications from Krauser files found in the Darkside Chronicles archives imply it was more of a one time thing and he has no loyalty to the US military, or anyone else for that matter. He's just a mercenary.

Jack Krauser: So where's this Leon guy? Hannah: He arrived at the scheduled time. The rendezvous point is the same. Jack Krauser: Did he fly in? Hannah: Yes. He was on a tour-charted Cessna, but it got shot down. It crash-landed in the wetlands, and he made his way on foot from there. He may have hitched a ride on the way, though. Jack Krauser: Uncle Sam must really like him. Hannah: Don't you both work for the same people? Jack Krauser: I don't know about Leon, but my loyalties lie not with any one given organization. At the end of the day, all they want is results. And that's what I provide. For the right price. Hannah: So you're a gun for hire. Jack Krauser: Hmph, you got a problem with that? Look, I don't care what people think of me. I get the job done and then I'm gone. And if we work together again some day, then so be it.

[I have the audio recordings and full transcripts of all 3 of the communications here.]

Operation Javier wasn't some tragedy where almost everyone died. No one was abandoned.

I think the best way to start this section is with the transcript of a RE4R file:

Operation Javier. Few people have heard the name, even within the highest ranks of the US government. And little wonder too, the operation was not made public. It was conducted in secret, and then buried. The reason being—it was too inhumane. It all started back in 2002 when a small unit of US special forces was sent to infiltrate an area of South America. Their mission was to eradicate the drug cartels. The whole operation took several years to prepare for and only the most elite soldiers were selected to participate. I don't know if the mission was a failure or not, but I do know the fate of those elite soldiers once it was over. Apparently, the entire unit was wiped out except for the commanding officer, Major █████. And not by the cartels, but by the US. It shouldn't have been difficult to extract a single stranded unit. All it would have taken was a single helicopter. But for some reason, the military didn't act. Rumors say that the decision was the outcome of a power struggle among the top brass, others say it was a directive from the former president himself. But we may never know the truth since it was all covered up. But I'm certain of one thing. The US government let those people die. Brave, young people who dedicated their lives to protect their country.

Almost nothing about that is true of the original Operation Javier.

There was no team, only Leon and Krauser were sent.

The mission wasn't to eradicate cartels. Javier was a drug lord but that wasn't why Leon and Krauser were sent, they were only sent in because it was believed Javier was using B.O.W.s. The operation didn't take several years to prepare for.

No one was abandoned.

No innocents were killed. (At least not by the government. Manuela's doctors were all murdered by Javier, but I suppose their innocence is also in question because they were keeping Manuela alive with constant organ transplants, and the organs were obtained via human trafficking. That's what was happening to the missing teenage girls in the area, organ trafficking.)

Really, almost all the casualties in the game happened before Operation Javier started. Javier is the only human killed during the game. The villagers were all zombies before Leon and Krauser rolled up. The local guide that was supposed to help them was technically alive when they got to him, but he had already been fatally injured and dies almost immediately after Leon and Krauser reach him. Manuela's mother, Hilda Hidalgo, was already a monster infected with Veronica years before the game takes place. The missing teenage girls died before the game starts. All of Manuela's doctors were murdered by Javier before Leon and Krauser reached the mansion, as was an Umbrella researcher. The only four people who were alive, uninjured, and uninfected* at the start of the game were Leon, Krauser, Javier, and Manuela. Only one of them dies, and another is injured but not killed.

[*Manuela was infected, but had full control over it and stayed human]

Leon and Krauser were picked up by a helicopter after killing Javier/V-Complex. Manuela was as well. The worst thing to happen was Krauser's arm being permanently injured.

Krauser's Darkside

The last two chapters of the game do a great job showing Krauser's transition from cold, arrogant, but not completely evil soldier to full-blown power hungry psycho that wouldn't hesitate to infect himself with anything that might make him more powerful. While I could get into that here, I think I'm going to wrap this post up here and eventually make a separate post going into DSC Krauser's full arc, and get more into the relationship between him and Leon. I do have some screenshots of some of Krauser's inner monologue lines in those chapters here, but I intend to make a more polished collection of his lines at some point, as well as the post with more commentary explaining his arc.

And you can see all my DSC stuff here, I'm on a mission to compile just about every piece of lore about the game I can find into one place.

[mushysquashythingamajig]

Bucktommy Fluffebruary

DAY 17: BIG ROMANTIC GESTURES

@bucktommyfluffebruary

A what competition?"

"A fundraiser, Buck. All the proceedings are to go to charity." Bobby corrected.

"And besides, you don't even need to worry. The 118 isn't participating this time." Hen added.

"Lucky for them. We would've embarrassed every fire station in LA." Eddie high-fived Buck.

"Aren't you being a little too confident?" This time, it was Ravi deciding to join the mix.

"Hey, I scored the fastest time during the firefighter's physical exam, and that was after I shattered my leg." Buck reminded everyone.

"Well, we're not participating so you can keep it in your pants." Hen walked over to the fridge, pulling out a water bottle.

"So, who's getting to participate this time?"

Pulling out his phone, Bobby squinted as he read off the list.

"Well, there's 101, 165, 94, 217…" Bobby went on, listing off several of the stations but Buck's mind got stuck on one very specific fire station. Stuck enough that he forgot the he had water in his mouth that ended up travelling to the wrong pipe. That is, a very embarrassing coughing fit as soon as he heard about Tommy's station.

"Oh lover boy. Did hearing Tommy's station take your breath away." Chimney ribbed.

"Fuck you cough Chim cough cough." The coughing continued for a while with Hen rubbing his shoulders and back.

After his coughing was back in control, he shot off a quick text to Tommy.

Are you in the competition?!?!?

A few beats later, a reply arrived.

So you found out. yes Evan, I am in the competition.

So am I gonna have to rub your back at night.

my back and maybe something else wink

Buck chuckled to himself, missing Eddie staring at him who screamed.

"BUCK'S TEXTING TOMMY AGAIN."

A series of groans followed which Buck drowned out. He's been getting really good at that.

That night when Tommy and Buck were laying in bed, both of them with heavy eyes, was when he decided to ask him about the competition.

"So, what's with the competition?"

"Well, the harbor is required to send someone in each category. Under 30, we have Jackie. I'm in the under 40 category and our captain Jasmine's going for the over 50 one. I was basically forced to put my name trust me." He yawned, eyes drooping.

"I do." And with that, the both of them fell asleep.

The competitors were given a month to prepare. Buck didn't really see the point, they were firefighters, of course they were always in shape. But Buck wasn't complaining. Mainly for one reason, the amazing view.

Tommy was bench pressing almost half his body weight for reps. Each time he's barely was able to put the weight back, he unloaded the weights and the process began again. Well, to be honest, Buck was just looking at Tommy's broad chest and thick arms.

Competition day came and the space rented was the government was huge. Huge enough that there was even a massive Jumbotron. Tommy had invited Evan and the rest of the 118 to the competition and they were here. The seats were pretty nice too. Buck tucked his surprise in the corner of his arm. Now, he just had to wait.

The first under 30 was amazing, with the contestants showing extreme athleticism. The energy reminded Buck of himself. Clearly the other's did to, all give Buck a 'look'.

Then the main reason for Evan to be here finally came. The under 40. And coincidentally, the camera connected to the jumbotron was moving towards him too. This was so fucking perfect. Pulling out the massive banner labelled 'THE HOT ONE IS MY BOYFRIEND' with several pictures of Tommy. The camera zoomed in to the chart and the crowd roared. It was awesome.

It seemed like the crowd hyping Tommy up really worked because Tommy won his match. Obviously, his boyfriend was the best

[linos-luna]

Hiii

Could you write a one shot about johnny x yn, he is the tutor of yn, they have going on a lot of sexual tension the last sessions, and johnny was just craving oral sex…so he says “if you do this correctly i’ll go down on you, but if you are wrong, you suck me, deal?” She says yes…you decide which one happens first. If you could add a lot of praise from johnny to yn would be awesome.

Thanks

Hope u have time

This was fun. Sorry it took forever. Im still recovering from my injuries 😅

But I’m back now!

——————————————————————

Lessons ❣️

Johnny x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Oral (both receiving), SMUT, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names

—————————————————— 💚

There was always tension. He’s tutoring you in statistics but how could you concentrate when he was just so… hot. Likewise, Johnny also found himself very attracted to you. He couldn’t help toying with you. Little touches and sly comments during every lesson to drive you nuts. Although you act like it doesn’t bother you, it very much does.

Today was different. Something about your cute skirt and innocent confused expression when not fully understanding a concept. It drove him nuts. He wants you.

Johnny wants relief. He wants you to suck him off while he fucks your throat. He wants to feel you gag around his cock as he pulls on your hair. He wants to cum on your face watch your filthy expressions. He wants to see your eyes crossed and cock drunk. It was getting him hard just thinking about it. Surely, you wouldn’t mind.

“Johnny… Johnny!” You called out, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Oh! Sorry!” He chuckled.

“I finished.” You said with a smile as he stood behind you.

“Yeah? Do you think that you understand now…? Normal distribution charts can be difficult.”

“Maybe…” I said, blushing as he was very close to your neck. “Y-you’ll have to check.”

“Maybe?” He teased while rubbing your sides. “Have you not been paying attention?”

“W-well…” you felt yourself getting heated, just his light touch was getting you worked up. Was this on purpose? You weren’t sure and it was making your head spin.

“Well what?” Johnny asked while slowly running his one hand up your skirt. “Not paying attention…?”

“I-I… I pay attention…” I replied with a a deep breath, feeling the pads of his fingers touching your clothed cunt. You closed your eyes and let out some breathy moans.

“I don’t know about that, babygirl…” he smirked, moving his hand from your waist to your neck. “Looks like you’re thinking about something else…” he chuckled while holding your chin before sliding his fingers in your underwear.

You moaned at the feeling as he felt around your folds then rubbed your clit with his thumb.

“I think that your mind is somewhere else, huh?”

You whimpered at the feeling, finding it difficult to not throw your head back in pleasure. You bucked your hips to feel more friction.

“Do you like that baby?” He teased, whispering in your ear. “You want more right?”

“Mmhm-…” you managed to get out.

“Yes? More?”

“Yes Johnny…” you moaned.

“Just love being touched…” he teased. “Are you really that dirty? I thought you were innocent.”

“I-I-….” It was hard to get any words out. “J-Johnny—…. Please…”

“My sweet girl… let me check that paper for you first.” He smirked, knowing it was driving you nuts. “I’ll have to make some corrections… unless they’re all right?”

“Y-yes Johnny…”

The man smirk as he snaked his free hand from your waist to your breast, disregarding the bra that was in the way.

“How about I make you a deal?” He said while pinching your sensitive nipple. “I’m willing to help you out, babygirl…”

You only nodded, trying to focus on his words.

“I’ll check your work…” he started. "if you do this correctly i'll go down on you, but if you are wrong, you suck me, deal?"

“A-ah! Johnny!” You moaned out loud suddenly, feeling him pinch at your sensitive cunt.

“Got it?”

“Mmm… okay…” you replied in a shaky voice as he looked over your work.

While he checked your work, Johnny kept his hand in your panties, only rubbing your clit slightly as he used his other hand to trace down the paper. You whimpered, lightly bucking your hips against his fingers.

“Well darn…” he said in a teasing voice. “You got it wrong… your margin of error is off…”

“O-oh.”

“You know what that means, hm?” He said with a sly laugh.

“Y-yes, Johnny…” you nodded while getting to your knees. Johnny was surprised you were actually going to do it and quickly pulled down his pants and boxers.

You looked up at him with a giggle, slowly stroking him while staring him straight in the eyes.

“T-Teasing me?” Her groaned while looking back, finding you incredibly cute and innocent.

You smiled and started sucking on the tip, looking up at him with innocent eyes. You would suck the tip and pull back, watching as your spit connected to it.

“F-fuck…” he groaned while holding onto your hair.

You continued to rub his cock with your hands as you started taking more in your mouth. He was big and it was impossible to get him fully in without gagging. You kept going, bobbing your head while moaning, making the man lose his mind.

Drool ran down your chin as he bucked his hips before his grip on your hair tightened.

Johnny couldn’t handle your slow teasing and started thrusting his hips more, holding onto you as he fucked your throat. He threw his head back and let out some breathy moans.

His needy moans only turned you on more and you felt how soaked your underwear really was.

“Open.” He said sternly as you opened your mouth. “I wanna see it…”

You smirked and laid his hard cock on your tongue that stuck out of your mouth. You continue to rub it against your tongue until he released, his white substance dripping from your mouth to your chin, looking absolutely filthy.

“God…” he panted while pulling you up by the hair. “I haven’t even checked the other problem yet… don’t tease me, girl…”

After pulling you up, he pulled his boxers up and went back to checking your work as if nothing happened.

Johnny looked through the last problem, smirking when finished. “Well it seems that you got this one right, babygirl.”

“O-oh…. U-um…” you stuttered as he grabbed your waist, lifting you onto the desk.

“My good girl deserves her reward now, hm?”

You only blushed, feeling even hotter as he slowly lowered your pant and underwear.

Johnny put your legs over his shoulders and licked a stride across your wet cunt with no warning. You moaned a bit loud and quickly slapped your hand over your mouth, making the man chuckle.

“Why are you covering up, baby?” He teased. “I wanna hear everything…” the man groaned against your cunt, practically making you twitch as you roll your eyes back. It was hard to control yourself.

Perhaps you were already hot and aroused from earlier, or you were just horny when seeing him in general.

“F-fuck—… j-Johnny…” your moans were shaky and light as he ate you out with no mercy. The pleasure started becoming too much as his tongue touched your sensitive bud.

You could barely keep your eyes open at the intense pleasure and you found yourself whining.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He teased while he added some more teasing licks.

“Mmm… J-Johnny….” You moaned as your legs shook a bit. “I-I-…”

“You’re what, baby?”

“I-I have… I have to… c-c-…” you couldn’t get the words out through your desperate pants, but Johnny knew what you were trying to say. He smirked and pulled away, making you whine.

“Don’t cum yet, baby.” Johnny said while standing, now undoing his jeans. “I’ll give you something better…”