#i have been desperate to figure this out since october

[cattons]

oliver is reading edward de bono (originator of the term lateral thinking) and sinister street by compton mackenzie (coming of age about an english public school boy who goes to oxford, one of evelyn waugh's favourites) btw if u even care

[mountttmase]

I Bet You Miss Her

Note - Hey guys 🩷 just a cute little baby fic today and thank you to the anon who sent the request in, I hope it’s okay for you 😘 feedback would be appreciated 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 5K

Warnings - angst and fluff

Mason always loved a pre-season party, getting everyone together after weeks apart and excited for the season to start usually meant he was in his element but this year was different. You weren’t with him this time.

That didn’t mean he didn’t see you everywhere he looked. That when he watched one of his teammates wrap their arm around their significant other he didn’t feel a pang of emptiness because you weren’t by his side. He knew he should be there with you and he knew this was all his doing but being here hurt more than thought it might.

He felt lost. His arms limp by his sides as he couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands now they weren’t wrapped around yours. His eyes glued to the floor as he knew he’d still be looking for you even though you were miles away and as he stood with Licha and his family he was trying his best to act normal and not let his inner turmoil spill over.

‘So Mase, where’s y/n?’ Muri asked, a bright and friendly smile on her face as she wrapped her hand around Licha’s bicep and the sound of your name sent shock waves through him. He’d been expecting it for a while but he wasn’t sure if he wanted your name brought up in conversation or not. On the one hand he was desperate for someone to bring you up so he could imagine you once more and have an excuse to talk about you but he also knew the memories would just be too painful just like they always were.

‘Oh uh, she’s on a work trip. She’ll be back in a few days’ Mason lied smoothly. His lips pressed into a tight line as he fiddled with the last button on his shirt but thankfully she bought his excuse.

‘Ah amazing, she doing so well for herself. I bet you miss her though’ she pouted and her sympathy just made him feel worse somehow.

‘Yeah, yeah I really do’ Masons whispered and it was like the words hit him in his soul. Gulping back a lump that was rising up his through far too quickly for his liking before raising his glass to his lips in a final attempt to disguise his emotions.

Today had been a lot.

It was officially three months since the breakup and Mason couldn’t have felt worse if he tried.

Nothing had caused the pair of you to break up, nothing big at least. The move from London to Manchester had been tough for the pair of you and you knew he was finding it hard to settle. The constant injuries meant he spent more time with the United staff rather than his teammates that he should have been bonding with and unbeknownst to you one of them was having more of an effect on him than you knew.

What started off as bickering as you were both on edge became bigger arguments as the season wore on. Mason spending longer hours with his new friend on the physio table and at first you didn’t mind because it gave you a chance to cool off but soon enough it got to the point of no return for him.

You always figured the fighting was a phase and something to move past but the morning of a big away game, his first start since October the year before, he’d told you he couldn’t carry on and felt it was best if the pair of you ended things there so it didn’t get any worse.

You were blindsided, it never being in your head that he would end things as you knew you loved him enough to work through it but as soon as he left for the game you packed your car until it was full and made your way back home to London later that evening.

It felt like he was taking the easy way out. Not giving you a chance to fight or say anything back, just telling you he was done and running away so he didn’t have to face the consequences but if that’s what he wanted then that’s what he would get. Driving back to your best friend's house who was ready to welcome you with open arms whilst you cursed his name all night. Confused as to how you’d even got here but you were hoping that when he returned home he’d feel just as awful as you were.

The game went terribly, Mason not really ready to play the amount of time he had been given and even though he wasn’t really to blame the loss hit harder than most. Not speaking a word to anyone unless he had to on the flight home and once he was back in his car he finally let his emotions get the better of him. Slamming his head onto the steering wheel before letting the first few tears fall.

This felt like rock bottom.

Mason knew you were gone as soon as he got home. Your car was gone and your house keys left in the dish on the console table told him as much when he walked in, but he could also feel you were gone. Your presence had been sucked right out of the home you’d built together and Mason felt awful instantly. He’d known since he stepped onto the plane yesterday morning that he’d made a mistake and all he wanted after an awful 12 hours or so was for you to make him feel better like you always did.

He tried every way known to man to try and get a hold of you but nothing seemed to be working. Even contemplating sending a messenger pigeon if he thought that might have worked but after five days of nothing from you he knew you were done. He’d made his bed and now he just had to lie in it no matter how uncomfortable it was.

In the end he figured he’d just wait for you to come to your senses and reply as you must be missing him just as much as he was missing you but the call never came. Just days that turned into weeks of waiting and waiting and soon enough the inevitable questions as to your whereabouts came.

Muri wasn't the first person to ask after you and she wasn’t the first to have been lied to by Mason. Everyone who mentioned you he managed to fob off with a different excuse and at this point you’d been on more girls trips and work trips than he could shake a stick at. He was running out of excuses though and he’d told his mum you’d been ill for so long that she was threatening to come and look after you herself but Mason always had it covered.

He was surprised he’d managed to get away with it for this long without someone coming back at him, thinking word must have gotten back to you eventually but no one ever questioned him and his spiral of lies just kept getting deeper. Too embarrassed to admit he’d let go of the best thing to ever happen to him so he kept going until the excuses no longer sounded plausible.

Where were you? Oh, yeah she’s at the dentist, she’s gone back home to visit her family for a few days, she’s already got plans she can’t cancel he lied but before he knew it he was paying for his sins.

It was 11pm a few days after the pre-season party and Mason was just about to get ready for bed. Switching his tv off and taking his snacks back to the kitchen but that’s as far as he got. The sudden sound of pounding fists on his door startled him and he froze in fear for a moment before he quickly pulled up the doorbell app on his phone. It was clearly a little slow to alert him to someone being outside but was met with a sight he thought he’d never see again.

He was running to open the door in a flash, pulling it open so quickly you almost fell inside as you were still aggressively slamming your fists on it and once you’d gathered yourself Mason swore he’d never seen you so mad before.

‘Why are you telling everyone we’re still together?’ You demanded, your voice loud and hard and he felt his tummy drop as the seconds went by. A deep feeling of regret but also love for you swimming through him and he didn’t quite know what to say.

‘Wha… what are you doing here?’ He asked, trying to avoid the question a little bit he knew it was for nothing. You were beyond furious.

‘Work trip, funnily enough’ you laughed but he knew there wasn’t an ounce of humour in it. Clearly word had gotten back to you and at this moment he didn’t know if he was happy about it or not. ‘Now answer my question’

‘I- I don’t know-‘

‘‘Keep my name out of your mouth, Mason. You broke up with me, remember? You don’t get to do this’ you cut him off, ready to turn around and leave as you had nothing else to say to him but as soon as you looked away his helpless voice ran through the air.

‘Baby please-‘

‘Don’t’ you snapped, holding your finger up so he would stop talking. Your voice now cold compared to what it just was and Mason realised in that moment he’d rather have you angry at him than whatever this was. ‘Just don’t. You don’t get to call me that’

‘Don’t go, I fucked up but we can fix this’ he pleaded but you didn’t come here to talk. You came to tell him to leave you alone and you weren’t prepared for this at all.

‘No we cant-‘

‘Baby please-‘

‘No Mason! Why are you doing this to me? Have you not put me through enough?’ You shouted as you turned back to him fully, your emotions getting the better of you as you tried and failed to hold in a sob and your hands were now balled up into fists as you were so frustrated with the boy in front of you. ‘I’m trying to move on with my life but I’ve got people asking me about you all the time and bringing you up cause you’re still living in some weird fantasy land!’

‘Please baby, please don’t cry I can fix it’ he whimpered as he moved closer to you but made sure to take a step back so he didn’t get too close.

‘There’s nothing to fix! We’re done!’

‘No we’re not. Don't say that okay, you’re mine’ he sobbed as he ran his fingers through his hair erratically. ‘What do you want from me, huh? What is it cause whatever it is I’ll do it now. You want me on my knees? You want me to beg for you back cause I don’t care I’ll do it’ he told you, lowering himself onto the ground in front of you but all it did was make you sob harder. ‘I don’t care that you hate me, I don’t care that you think we’re done. I love you and I'm not giving up on us ever when I know we can work this out’ he cried. ‘Why won’t you listen to me’

‘Because you’re a coward, Mase! You broke up with me before an away game so you could run away. You didnt fight for me then and you don't get to fight for me now’

‘Please’

‘No’ you told him, hoping that could be the end of it so you turned in your heel and ran away. Knowing that he’d be delayed by a few seconds if he wanted to get up and chase you but by the time you’d got in your car and looked back he hadn’t moved from his spot. His chest now pressed to the floor as he’d slumped forward with his head hidden in the crook of his arm and you could see his back moving erratically up and down from what you presumed was him crying.

There was something in you that made you stop, something that made you want to get out of your car and run back to him. To stand him up and hold him and tell him everything was fine and you were still his but you didn’t. You couldn’t.

That didn’t mean you didn’t think of him over the next few days. Hours spent in your friend's box room as you didn’t have the heart to find your own place yet but the sound of his voice and the memory of him being so heartbroken was etched into your brain and you couldn’t seem to move on from it.

You’d never seen him so distraught before in all the time you’d known him. On his knees in front of you begging for another chance and you’d just ran away and left him sobbing on his drive after pouring his heart out to you.

You hated the way he still occupied your thoughts. Before things had gone wrong you believed he was your forever and would have done absolutely anything for him but all that had changed and right now you didn’t think you could ever fully move past this unless you sat with him and spoke to him properly. No matter how much it hurt.

Mason was absentmindedly watching whatever was on tv when his phone alerted him to someone being outside. He didn’t hear a knock or anything moving outside so he quickly opened the app to put his mind at rest when he was met with your face. Your hand rising and falling as you thought about whether or not you should press the bell but Mason wasn’t about to give you a choice and shot up from the sofa to pull the front door open

You weren't expecting him to suddenly be there, a hopeful look on his face as he tried to control his breathing and you felt your heart leap at the sight of him.

‘You’re back’ he whispered, watching you wrap your arms around yourself as you looked down at the floor and all he wanted was to wrap you up in his own arms. To kiss you and promise you he’d never hurt you again as he hated how you looked so fragile and nervous but he was taking you being as a positive sign.

‘Yeah’ you breathed, nodding lightly. ‘I was just about to knock, I um… do you think… do you think I could come in?’

‘Of course you can’ he nodded, pulling the door open wider before shutting it behind you. Watching you glance around the house you used to call a home before you stood playing with your fingers. ‘Can I get you anything? You want a drink or-‘

‘No, I think it’s best we just talk and get this over with’ you told him. walking right by him to get to the sitting room and the familiarity of the place hit you immediately. Nothing had changed, he even still had the same pictures of the pair of you in the frames by the fireplace and you felt your tummy drop at the sight of them. They felt like they were from a different life at this point and you didn’t know if you’d ever get to be like that with anyone ever again.

Mason sighed before joining you, his shoulders slumped as he thought maybe you’d come here to listen to him and let him put things right but from just that small awkward interaction he knew you were done. He was just praying to anyone and anything he could change your mind somehow.

‘I’m sorry’ he mumbled as he took a seat opposite you but you weren’t here to listen to that again.

‘I don’t want an apology Mason, you’ve said that a million times now. I want an explanation’ you told him calmly. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing… and everything I guess’ he sighed, running his hand over his beard before scratching the back of his neck. All of his tells to let you know he was nervous. ‘Things were rough for a while, I think we both can agree on that’ he said and you nodded lightly. Things had been hard but never once had you thought about ending things with him. ‘It was just a hard year for me… and then were was Jason’

‘Jason?’ You asked, confused as to who he was talking about as the only Jason you knew was Mason's physio and he’d always been sweet to you when you’d seen him so you were confused as to why he was being bought up now.

‘Yeah, he’d been on at me for months about ending things with you’ he confessed and you felt your heart sink. ‘It's my fault, I saw him most days and we got pretty comfortable around each other so I said some things that looking back now I shouldn’t have. It was just guy talk you know? I didn’t mean anything by it at first, we were just moaning about our other halves but then he broke up with his girlfriend and he was going on about how much lighter felt now he was single and maybe I should do the same so we could be single together’

‘What?’ You breathed. Not knowing if this was a joke or not but you knew Mason and you knew he was open to everyone so it was no wonder he took advice from some he thought he could trust.

‘I know, and I know it doesn't make me sound any better. I get that. But we were arguing over stupid things and I had him in my ear constantly like I just lost it’

You didn’t know what to say. You understood a bit better now but it still didn’t make things easier.

‘But I knew it was dumb, maybe in the back of my mind that’s why I did it when I did cause you’re right. I was a coward and I wanted to run away but I knew It’s not what I wanted as soon as I got on the bloody plane to leave. I didn’t get chance to talk to you or do anything until later that night and I tried to call you but I never heard from you’

‘You didn’t even really give me a chance to fight for us. You told me what you wanted and left as quickly as you could. I didn’t exactly feel like giving you a chance to explain anything after that’ you told him quietly and he nodded knowingly. His face crumpling as he tried and failed to hold it together and you couldn’t lie and say the way he was wasn’t having an effect on you and his watery eyes were like a dagger to your heart.

‘I know you don’t believe me, but I’ve never stopped loving you’ he sobbed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye so he could stop crying but it only made your eyes sting in return. ‘That day when I finished things, well I didn’t just hurt you. It's like I tore my own heart from my chest and I’ve never been able to numb that ache. Why do you think I lied and told everyone we were still together?’

‘Cause you’re certifiably insane’ you whispered. Your heart leaping at the way he let out a little chuckle as he wiped his eyes and when your eyes locked you felt your resolve crumble further.

‘Well yes, there’s that, but I couldn’t admit what I’d done to anyone cause I was embarrassed’ he gulped. ‘And I didn’t want to admit it to myself half the time. You’re way too good for me, I know that. Fuck everyone knows that so why would I want to tell everyone I’d thrown away the best thing to have ever happened to me. I know exactly what they’d say and how dumb I felt even just thinking it to myself so I made out you were just busy or something’ he shrugged. His confession melting your cold exterior slightly before he was scratching the back off his neck again. The cogs turning in his brain as he tried to make you believe in whatever way he could.

‘Mums been asking after you loads, I kept saying you were sick or had an appointment. She even sent me those special immunity tea bags to give you like they’re in the cupboard and everything’ he laughed and you felt your heart warm at how kind his family were. You’d missed going to visit them but didn’t want to reach out and have things be weird but now you were glad you hadn’t as clearly they were none the wiser

‘Does she know now?’ You whispered but he just shook his head awkwardly. The bridge of his nose turning a bright red out of embarrassment but your heart was hammering as you always found that to be one of his cutest tells and it was like you had to restrain yourself in your seat so you didn’t reach over to grab his face and kiss him.

‘No, she still thinks we’re together. I'd actually like to keep it that way’ he told you and even though you knew it was coming you weren’t ready to accept what he wanted to say. At least you didn’t think you were.

‘Mason-‘

‘Please’ he pleaded. His big brown eyes melting you even further and even though you promised yourself you’d be strong he was making it difficult. ‘Please, y/n. I said it the other night and I’ll say it again. I really would do anything for another chance and I’ll get down on my knees again if you want me to’ he told you and the tiny smile on your face must have given him the courage to push forward a little bit. Sliding off the sofa before getting himself settled between your thighs and resting his hands on them gingerly. You felt your heart thump as he looked up at you through his lashes and you knew you were putty in his hands at this point no matter how much you didn’t want to be.

‘I’m the biggest idiot known to mankind and I let you go when I should have held you closer. I know I can make you so happy, we were happy once were we?’

‘Yeah, we were’ you agreed quietly cause deep down you knew you really were and you knew I wouldn’t take much to get back there.

‘So we can do it again, right?’

‘I don’t know Mase’

‘Why? What’s holding you back?’ He questioned and at this point you didn’t even know. Only a few seconds away from just agreeing with anything he said as the hopeful look on his face was destroying you but you knew you had more to say.

‘Cause it hurt’ you whispered. ‘I hurt when you left me, it still hurts now’

‘It hurts because it matters’ he whispered, tucking some hair behind your ear and the gesture made you shiver. ‘And it matters because we still love each other. If you didn’t care anymore then it wouldn’t hurt’ he told you and you hated but loved the way he had you on strings. ‘Please baby, please. I can’t be without you anymore it’s killing me’ he told you, his voice wobbling as he looked down into your lap.

You couldn’t take it anymore, reaching down to cup his jaw so he’d look at you and the tears rolling down his cheeks broke your heart. You knew he was right, it hurt because you still loved him but looking at him so devastated between your legs hurt more than anything else.

All you wanted to do was make him feel better and you knew there was only one way to do it. Leaning down and pulling him up slightly so you could drop a sweat kiss to his lips and you knew he was surprised as he froze for a beat.

You both sat there for a few moments, foreheads touching with your eyes closed as it hit you what was happening but the smile on his face made you giddy so when he lent back in you let him take the lead. Kissing you gently as he gripped your thighs, almost making sure that you were actually there and he wasn’t dreaming but you were holding onto him just as tightly before pulling back to catch your breath.

‘I didn’t think I’d ever get to kiss you again’ Mason whispered but you couldn’t reply, Mason pulling you down onto the floor next to him before rolling himself half on top of you so he could kiss you again but the pair of you giggling didn’t help. ‘Is this really happening?’

‘Trust me when I say this, but I came over here with the intention of just putting things to bed and going back home’ you told him. Watching his face drop as things turned sombre. ‘But you’ve just made me realise I am home’ you told him, watching him pout slightly as he was so emotional. ‘I’ve been lost without you Masey, and yeah what you did sucked but I know you’re sorry yeah? I can see it all over your face’

‘I really am’

‘I know you are, and it’s okay. I forgive you’ you whispered and it’s like you felt his body relax under your fingertips.

‘Are you sure? I feel like I haven’t said half of what I wanted to’ he gulped, almost as if he couldn’t believe you’d forgiven him so quickly but you didn’t see the point of prolonging everything.

‘That’s okay’ you whispered. ‘You’ve said enough for me, life isn’t always about big apologies you know? I’d rather you make up for things with actions not words’

‘And I will’ he confirmed before leaning down to kiss you again. You tummy flipping at how gentle he was being with you and even before things had turned sour you couldn’t remember the last time you kissed like this. The last time he made you feel like this but you knew the feelings had never died, other stupid things had just gotten in the way.

You pulled back soon after, the pair of you just looking at each other in awe as you shared tiny kisses and soft stares before you felt his hand on your waist. You’d missed his touch and the feel of him made you wonder what else you’d missed in your months apart.

‘You won the fa cup’ you giggled, your eyes burning again as you thought back to the pictures of him looking so happy with his team mates. A nice end to a hard year he’d suffered and even though you’d been mad at him you knew how much it meant for him to win a domestic trophy and you couldn’t not be pleased for him.

‘I did yeah’ he laughed, tears springing to his eyes once more. ‘And we didn’t get to celebrate it together’

‘We’ve got time to, it’ll just be a little late that’s all’ you shrugged and he nodded down at you enthusiastically.

‘We do’ he breathed. Kissing your forehead before cradling your face so he could look at you properly. ‘And you’re going on work trips?’

‘Yeah, a week or two after I went home I got promoted’ you smiled, rolling your eyes lightly as the pair of you knew it was something you’d been working towards but in your mind it was still a little way down the line.

‘I’m so fucking proud of you’ he told you sincerely, pecking your lips quickly before looking at you again and the smile on his face melted you. ‘Looks like we’ve got a fair few things to celebrate then’

‘I think so, and you know how I like to celebrate’

‘Chocolate cake?’ He questioned, an eyebrow raised but he knew he was right. It was always your little tradition and how you celebrated the small wins.

‘Chocolate cake’ you confirmed with a smile and his bright eyes made you melt.

‘I’m gonna get you the best chocolate cake I can find, yeah. Only the best for my girl’ he smiled before his face dropped a fraction. ‘You’re still my girl aren’t you?’

‘I’m still your girl’ you told him, stroking his cheek as he looked at you softly. ‘Even though I was mad as hell I was always your girl Mase. And I always will be’

‘You and me against the world, sweetheart’

‘Of course, but I have a condition’ you told him, watching him raise his brow at you questioningly. ‘If you get upset again, please talk to me so we can work it out’

‘I will baby, I promise’ he told you sincerely and you knew he meant it. ‘I don’t ever want to be without you again, yeah? I fucking hated it’

‘Me too’ you laughed, pulling him down into a soft kiss that you couldn’t help but smile into as you felt him melt. ‘Now what’s happening with that chocolate cake’

‘Come on, we’ll get it together. Not letting you out of my sight now’ he told you, helping you up from the floor so you could make your way to the car, your heart finally home with your forever person.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed if you feel like leaving some feedback it would be much appreciated 🩷

[frankendykes-monster]

Six people have burned themselves at Virginia’s infamous supermax Red Onion State Prison since the start of the year, the state’s Department of Corrections confirmed in an email to The Appeal. A Virginia Department of Corrections (VADOC) spokesperson said the men used “improvised devices that were created by tampering with electrical outlets.” Four incidents occurred on or after September 1. The agency said it tracks incidents of self-harm but does not make reports on those incidents publicly available. “To be clear, these inmates did not set themselves on fire or self-immolate,” she wrote. “They were treated for electrical burns at the Department’s secure medical facility at the VCU Medical Center and cleared to return to the facility. All six inmates have been referred to mental health staff for treatment.” For more than two decades, civil rights attorneys, human rights advocates, and prisoners have documented the horrific conditions at Red Onion, which sits in rural Western Virginia near the Kentucky border. According to a 2018 lawsuit, one man allegedly hallucinated and spoke with his dead parents while kept in solitary for more than 12 years. In another case, a man isolated for over 600 days started to speak in numbers, lost more than 30 pounds, and signed his name with a series of random letters. The DOC settled both lawsuits. In October, incarcerated journalist Kevin “Rashid” Johnson broke the self-harm story for Prison Radio, reporting that men had burned themselves in a “desperate attempt” to be transferred outside of the prison. The news outlet posted an audio recording by Ekong Eshiet, one of the men who allegedly burned himself. Eshiet said staff discriminate against him because of “my race, my last name, or my religion.” “I don’t mind setting myself on fire again,” Eshiet said on the recording. “This time, I would set my whole body on fire before I have to stay up here and do the rest of my time up here.”

Last year, six prisoners at Red Onion State Prison, a supermax facility on the state’s rural west side, intentionally burned themselves, prompting scrutiny of the prison from lawmakers and the public. But rather than address the conditions that may have led to such desperate measures, emails obtained by The Appeal show that corrections staff discussed how best to punish those who’d self-immolated. In the documents, which were obtained through a public records request and partially redacted, staff members discussed how to deter further incidents of self-harm. Suggestions included charging prisoners thousands of dollars for medical care and criminally prosecuting them. “I believe on Monday, we pull policy and start charging the inmates thousands of dollars for the hospital and medical treatment,” Red Onion’s chief of security wrote in September. “Once we iron through this, we can send the word through the inmate population that they’re going to be changed [sic] thousands for their medical due to intentional manipulation. Just my thoughts on how to prevent this kind of behavior.” One of the recipients, Assistant Warden Dwayne Turner, voiced his approval. “Yeah, sounds good,” he wrote. “But, the first thing we need to figure out is why? Do they think they will get transferred? If so, we need to make sure they don’t…. obviously they think they can gain something from doing that. We need to make sure they know they won’t gain anything….but making them pay money is good too[.]” The minimum wage for incarcerated workers in Virginia starts at $0.27 an hour. Local media outlet VPM News reported that Turner was promoted to assistant warden after he was accused of choking a restrained prisoner. Turner did not respond to The Appeal’s request for comment.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 76: Oliver's Rescue

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, captivity, conditioning, drugging, blood ritual

October 1925

Oliver.

His master's song was muffled and far away, but still carried his name. Oliver tried to respond, but he couldn't seem to move.

Wake up.

His eyelids were like lead, his body stiff and heavy. The world tilted and dipped, and he realized that he was being carried.

Wake up, Oliver.

His master sounded scared, desperate. Why…

Oliver remembered what had happened, the fight with the vampire hunter, how he'd allow himself to be taken in the hopes that his master would be spared. The voice echoing in his head at least meant that his master was still alive, and communicating with him through the link between them that he rarely used.

If he was now in the clutches of the hunter, he definitely didn't want her to realize that he was awake. Instead, he kept his eyes shut tight and did his best to reach out to the voice in his head.

The communication wasn't in words, exactly, but in feelings and in song, and Oliver felt slow and clumsy as he tried to connect. He could feel his master's concern, and he did his best to convey that he was drugged, but unharmed.

The mental conversation was interrupted by a woman's voice. "Oh god, is that Oliver?"

"I sure hope so," said the hunter, "because it was like hell to rescue him."

"What's wrong with him? Is he okay?" The woman's voice seemed vaguely familiar, but Oliver couldn't quite place it in his foggy mind.

"I had to put him to sleep. I botched it and failed to kill his master. That means he could alert his master to the location of the safehouse if he figures out where he is -- and his master is a terrifyingly dangerous vampire. If you don't want to end up a thrall again…"

"He would do that?"

Oliver felt a pang of guilt at the sadness in the woman's voice, particularly since he had, in fact, just been communicating with his master. But he only wanted Alexander to retrieve him, not to harm anyone else, not even this hunter.

"Unfortunately, yes. Given his master's skills, it's safe to say that Oliver is a danger to everyone here. That's why I'll have to prepare to unenthrall him right away, and we'll have to make sure he can't escape or figure out where he is in the meantime."

The guilt was replaced by panic as Oliver tried to somehow relay this information to Alexander through their limited connection. Oliver wasn't sure if he understood, but he did feel a surge of anger in response, one which rippled through him as though it were his own.

"Shit, he's awake."

Oliver's eyes flew open, and he was looking into the face of the hunter who had kidnapped him, who had been carrying him princess-style through what looked like a run-down house. With his cover blown, he struggled out of the hunter's arms, only to flop ungracefully on the floor, still heavily drugged.

"Oliver!"

The face of the other woman swam into view, and he realized who the voice belonged to.

"Emily?" he croaked, his mouth parched.

"Help me restrain him," said the hunter sternly, hauling Oliver up by his armpits. "I'll need some extra time to prepare the ritual, and we have to make sure he can't escape."

"I don't want a ritual," Oliver protested weakly. "Just let me go. I don't need to be rescued."

"Get the sleeping draught from my bag and splash some under his nose. Be careful not to breathe it yourself."

"All right."

With his limbs still clumsy and slow, Oliver couldn't manage to get away from the hunter's strong arms holding him from behind. All he could do was thrash and hold his breath as Emily followed the hunter's instructions and smeared some of the potent sleeping potion under his nose. Even as he tried to hold his breath, he could still smell the sickly sweetness, his head starting to spin.

"That's good," said the hunter in his ear. "I know you don't believe me now, but I'm trying to help you."

Oliver wanted to protest further. He did know what the hunter was doing, he really did, but she just didn't understand his particular situation. He wasn't like Emily, whose master was planning to discard her the moment she was bored. Alexander needed him.

Didn't he?

But he'd thought about getting away before, hadn't he? When he first learned about Alexander's sire, and even before that, back in the auction house…

His head swirled with confusion as the sleeping concoction began to take hold once again. He found he couldn't offer any resistance as the hunter pulled him onto a chair and tied his arms and legs down, placing a blindfold around his eyes.

"I'm sorry I have to do this," she said, "but it really is for your own good. You'll see."

As Oliver's thoughts began to fade, he could hear the increasingly frantic music of his master, trying to reach him, but to no avail.

---

When Oliver was finally able to crack open his eyes again, he had no idea if he'd been out for five minutes or five hours. The ropes binding him into the chair chafed his wrists, and he felt stiff.

"Oh, are you awake? Vivian said you might wake up again before she was ready."

He managed to lift his heavy head, still disoriented. He was in the same dingy house as before, in a room that was mostly empty except for his chair and one other. Emily was sitting in an armchair reading the newspaper, looking very different than she had the last time Oliver had seen her, dressed in a plain blue shirt and khaki pants instead of a stylish dress and heels.

"Please don't put me back to sleep," he said. "I just want to talk." His master's song had faded from his head, giving him a little more space to think.

She put down the newspaper. "All right, but Vivian told me to put you back to sleep if you cause any trouble."

"Is Vivian the vampire hunter?"

"Yeah. She rescued me." Emily was staring at Oliver as though sizing him up. "She's trying to save people from vampires. I owe her everything. You remember me, don't you?"

"I do," said Oliver.

"I told her to go find you, since I felt guilty about what happened in the auction house, that I couldn't help you when you were being hypnotized. Now we're even, or we will be, I guess."

"You didn't have to do that," said Oliver. "I'm glad you got out. Your master…" He shuddered thinking of Emily with her mind gone, the way Jessica had done the same to him in only a moment. "She was awful. And she was going to throw you away. You didn't deserve that."

"I appreciated that, you know. When you tried to stand up for me in front of all the vampires. I didn't really understand what you were trying to say then, but I do now," she said. "And Vivian's going to do the same thing for you. She'll free you from enthrallment."

Oliver's gut churned. A part of him certainly felt like he should want it -- but more in the way that one feels one should want to do chores or exercise or tedious errands. He should want his mind restored, to be free of the vampires' influence…

…but it had been good for him, hadn't it? The situation forced him to admit to himself a truth he was trying to avoid -- that he had been drifting through life with no real purpose. He'd spent so many lonely, dull days in the bookstore, his only highlights a new acquisition or a particularly interesting customer. But with the vampires, he'd felt useful. Fulfilled. He'd tasted bliss, even if it was artificial…

"She doesn't need to do that," said Oliver. "I know it probably sounds crazy, but I was fine with my master. He treats me well, and I'm happy, and I really don't have anyone who's looking for me or anything that important to go back to, to be honest."

"What about your bookshop?" she demanded. "The entire time we were locked up, that's all you talked about, all the improvements you wanted to make to your bookshop. Remember?"

"Of course I do." He could never forget the bookshop, the place where he'd spent the vast majority of his life from childhood. He knew every nook and cranny so well, the smell of dust and book bindings, the way certain floorboards creaked, the uneven stairs up to his apartment, his comfortable chair piled with lumpy blankets. And he remembered being so desperate to get back there. When had he stopped thinking about his bookshop?

"Then you know you need to get back there, right?"

"Yes, I do, but…" The thought of his master's song, of the loneliness in his eyes, pulled him back. Oliver had been lonely, too. The idea of returning to his bookshop alone and resuming his former life felt strangely cold. "My master also needs me. I keep him company, and I help him get to sleep, and I…"

"Let him drink your blood."

Heat rose in Oliver's face as he thought of it, unwilling to fully admit to himself how much he would miss that particular aspect of his new life. "Yes, but -- he gives me so much in return. And it isn't so bad, really. It's -- it's pleasant, almost, in a strange way."

Emily sighed. "If you could listen to yourself… I remember you telling me how much you didn't want them to take your mind, how you hated the idea of being food for some monster, and now you're blushing and stammering just to think about it. The vampires really did do a number on you, didn't they? Not that I can talk. I had my memories completely erased, and they still aren't fully back."

"I'm sorry they did that to you," he said, and meant it. "I do know what I said then, but that was before I knew what it would be like. My master -- Alexander really has been kind to me, and I've enjoyed living with him, and not just because I was hypnotized. I mean, I was allowed to keep most of my mind…"

"Allowed to keep your mind?" she said. "Oliver, you're completely wrapped around that vampire's fingers."

"I'm not --"

"Don't you remember that I saw you at the Tiger's Eye? You were fawning all over that vampire's lap, letting him dote on you like a house cat."

Oliver was about to retort and point out that she was no different -- but that would only prove her point, considering how clearly ensorcelled she'd been. Was that how he had looked to other people? He had hardly considered it, too used to only being in the company of vampires and thralls.

Emily must be right. He really was that far under his master's spell, wasn't he? How could he ever think otherwise?

"But it's okay," she said. "Vivian has a ritual to undo most of the enthrallment. You'll be free."

"Free." It should be a joyous thing, so why did it feel like having a bucket of ice water upended over him?

Everything he had felt between his capture and now, had it all been a fabrication, a hypnotic illusion? The warm and comforting evenings, his deep satisfaction at serving his master, even those traces of affection? Was it all a lie, a soap bubble that could be so easily popped?

And the way his master wanted him and cherished him, refused to let him go, was that also just an act to keep Oliver in line?

"Hey, are you okay?" Emily asked. "I know it's a lot to think about."

Oliver nodded, trying not to cry. As much as he knew he should be grateful for the rescue, a greater part of him wished he were still back in the manor, his quiet evening uninterrupted, curled next to his master and reading to his heart's content.

Was it really so terrible, to be lost in an illusion? He'd spent his entire life with his mind three-quarters of the way in a book at all times. Was this so different?

But no matter how much he desired it, he'd never be truly safe with Alexander, not with the threat of his sire looming over them both. Freedom meant he'd never have to feel that sickening control wrap around his limbs ever again, never again blinded and degraded and forced to dance. Even as he thought it, though, he doubted it could be so easy. Could this hunter actually defy that vampire? Was a witch's ritual enough to deliver Oliver from his clutches?

The stairs creaked, and the vampire hunter entered the room. She'd divested herself of most of her kit, but that silver knife, the one she'd pressed against Oliver's neck, was still strapped to her belt. Behind her, a woman with red hair and a gray housecoat stood, looking a bit dazed.

"Oh, he's awake," said Vivian. "How are you feeling, Oliver?"

"I've had better nights," he said. He dimly remembered how he'd felt when Lily had him dragged him out of his cell, the loss of his mind inevitable. Why did he feel exactly like that now?

"You'll feel better once we've freed you from the vampire's hold on your mind," she said. "Well, you may feel worse before you feel better, but that's only because it can be hard to use your own mind again."

Oliver nodded. What else could he do? The ropes bit into his wrists.

"Emily, is it safe to untie him, or is he going to try and escape?"

Emily shook her head. "I don't think it's safe. He's very far gone."

Oliver wanted to protest, but he wasn't sure himself, torn between what he wanted and what he knew he should want.

"All right. I'll just untie him from the chair and leave the rest of his binds. Jenny, can you help?"

Vivian and the woman with her, Jenny, began to untie him from the chair, but as instructed, his wrists and ankles were still firmly bound together, preventing him from moving much. Vivian picked him up in her strong arms as though he were a sack of potatoes, and made her way back to the stairs. Oliver didn't bother to try and struggle, knowing it would be fruitless.

Emily and Jenny helped Vivian maneuver her parcel up the stairs and into the attic, and Oliver's chest tightened to see the chalk circles on the floor, stained in blood. So this was it -- and his desire to be back home with his master overtook any other sense in him. He involuntarily squirmed and thrashed, and the women nearly dropped him.

"Let me go!" he said. "I've changed my mind, I don't want this! Just let me go back!"

"Hold onto him! Get him in the circle!"

Master, he called out in his mind. Master, where are you?

He was placed in the middle of the circle, unable to stand or do anything but writhe like a pathetic worm.

"Just close your eyes and try to relax, Oliver." Vivian knelt in the circle in front of him, taking out her silver knife, and he flinched away from it. "You'll be glad that we helped you. I promise."

Master!

The connection to Alexander returned, and Oliver was overwhelmed with the feeling of despair and panic, adding to his own. He knew what his master was trying to say, that he didn't know where Oliver was, and Oliver couldn't offer any useful information. Even if he could, it'd be far too late.

Vivian sliced open her own hand and dripped her blood into the circle, chanting low. The music inside Oliver rose to a frantic crescendo. He felt something smeared on his forehead, couldn't flinch away in time.

It was too late.

The music stopped.

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Thank you so much for reading about a man who was enthralled.

Important Note: There will be no new Bookseller chapters for the next two Sundays! I hope to occasionally post some other work you may enjoy, though. Bookseller will return in December.

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[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Oh, you wanna play psycho killer? (Ghostface! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader x Ghostface! Peter B Parker) Part 1

RAAAAA! Excited about this one! Based off this post. Inspired by this drawing from Andalusia_Lu on Tiktok. Not proofread. Tbh I’m kinda nervous about this one but…Enjoy! Also in this story MJ and Peter are just friends. This is probably the darkest think I’ve written.

(Y/N) - Your name.

NSFW!!, Cursing, use of alcohol, death, murder, yandere behavior, Reader has a bf who does die, violence, blood, said reader’s bf calls her derogatory remarks behind her back, religious imagery(I think???), stalking, male masturbation, invasion of privacy, reader being drugged, panty stealing, stalking, implied kidnapping, gore, cameras being placed in readers home without their knowledge, it’s a horror one shot so… you know what you’re walking into. Dead Dove Do not eat, MDNI!

Word count: 2.5k

Part 2

Masterlist

—

October 31st, Halloween night. Also know as the night that gives college students an excuse to get fucked up while in a shit quality costume that cost 50 bucks at spirit Halloween.

That little rule you are not exempt from, that’s how you found yourself in a random college frat party at NYU, a bottle of beer in one hand, and your boyfriend’s in the other as you drag him through the crowd so you both can dance. The alcohol in your system made your whole body relaxed and your cheeks glow with a dash of red over them, your eyes half-lidded and your smile wide as you looked up at Daniel while Promiscuous from Nelly Furtado blasted through the house. You looked like an angel straight from heaven, although that might be due to your customer, being dressed up as Juliet from the 1996 movie, while your boyfriend was clattered in armor as Romeo. The costumes being your idea after having rewatched the movie a few weeks ago.

You both had lost the rest of your group in the crowd, Jess and MJ had said they were going to the kitchen while Miguel and Peter had said they were going outside to get fresh air but you haven’t seen them since, you wouldn't have extremely worried, if it wasn’t for the reason sightings of the ghostface killer that had been popping up on the news though. Sure maybe going to a party wasn’t the best idea either but you figured you would have been fine since you were going in a group, I mean, what wouldn’t you be okay? It’s not like an actual serial killer goes after a group of young adults who are all drunk right? But now you’ve lost 4 out of 6 people in said group. But maybe in the small chance you do get targeted, you should be able to stand a chance since your Daniel was always in the gym with Miguel, so he was pretty jacked (not as jacked as Miguel though but you’ll never say that out loud).

One song turned to two then to three, just like the beers in Daniel’s hand, you had slowed down so you could at least be sober enough to order a Lyft for when the night was over. Eventually you were whisked away from your boyfriend by MJ and Jess, thankful that they were still at the party and nothing happened to them.

“Hey, have you guys seen Peter or Miguel?” You shouted over the music after a while, Jess just shrugged, before MJ answered.

“They texted me that they found Daniel and he’s like, fucked up apparently.”

—

“Please!”

Stab.

“I don’t want to die! Please stop!”

Stab.

“I’ll give anything! Just don’t kill me!”

The begs and pleads become more desperate and sloppy with every second, the words slurring more together from the alcohol and the crimson red liquid dribbling out of Daniel's mouth. The sight was almost enough to make the two men feel pity. Almost.

“Anything?” The shorter one asked with an agonizingly slow head tilt, his voice altered from the voice changer attached to the plastic mask, signaling for the other to stop plugging the knife into their victim’s stomach. Despite not liking being told what to do, he dropped Daniel on the floor with a snarl. Daniel quickly retracted into a small ball, shaking arms going to cover his bloody wound with a groan and whimper.

“We want (Y/N).” If it weren't for him being in excruciating pain and bleeding out, Daniel would have thought they were joking, but the tone in which the words were spoken made his blood that was spilling out from his stomach and mouth run cold.

“W-what?” He asked as he tried to keep his breathing from becoming shallow and his head from becoming too dizzy, but he was failing miserably.

“You heard us. We. Want. (Y/N).” The larger one spoke this time. How badly, he wanted to emphasize each word with another stab, the knife in his hands twitched a bit as he tightened his grip on the black handle. He was itching for an excuse, but he’ll refrain.

For now.

Maybe it was the way he responded to a stressful situation, or maybe it was the lack of blood finally affecting his brain, but Daniel had the nerve to laugh. Fucking laugh. The laugh was breathy, and in between coughs and groans, causing Miguel and Peter to look at their prey like he was the crazy one. Rage filled their bodies when Daniel finally composed himself enough to talk again.

“Y-you can’t be serious? …Right? You-you’re gonna kill-kill me over some bitch?”

How fucking dare he.

How dare he speak about you like you were some random skank, like you were a pile of dirt. You were a fucking goddess, Miguel and Peter knew that, because they worshipped you like one. They didn’t see what you saw in Daniel, he didn’t deserve you, no one did, except Miguel and Peter, they would treat you better than any other man that roamed this stupid planet, and especially far better then the sorry excuse of a boyfriend that they had on the ground like he was a wounded animal.

For someone who was about to die, he sure had a lot of nerve.

He didn’t love you like they did, he didn’t know your every move like they did. They were like your real life guardian angels, always following behind you to make sure no one would harm so much as a hair on your pretty little head, and how lucky were they, that you were juuust oblivious enough that you don’t notice them, just enough to brush of your rummaged trash as raccoons, just enough that you didn’t noticed when a pair or two of your dirty panties go missing, you had too many to keep track of all of them anyways. Never knowing that one of the two would sneak into your apartment while you were asleep to grab them from your hamper, no matter which boy had decided to embark on their mission, both of them had to fight against the struggle to not stay and watch you sleep, fighting the urge to release their painful hard members and stroke while watching you sleep. They’d be lying to themselves if they said they haven’t lost the battle at least once before, biting into their free hand to stop any moans from escaping and waking you up, while they fist fuck their cocks with the other, but can you blame them?

They just loved you so much and you loved them too, you just haven’t realized it yet. How could you when that pest of a boyfriend of yours was pumping your head full of false thoughts? He didn’t love you like Peter and Miguel did. Sure Daniel might seem like he loved you so much, going as far as to get you flowers and gifts from time to time, but Miguel and Peter’s gifts they would give you were so much better, because these gifts were all given to you with the same purpose. To help them watch over you, make sure you were safe, strategically planning to make sure to eventually fill your entire home with cameras right under your adorable nose. The teddy bear that sits on your bed and the light up mirror over your bathroom sink were first of course.

Peter couldn’t help himself, with all of his force, he kicked Daniel right in the balls, causing him to curl up more in pain. Miguel was going to do the same when his phone pinged in his pocket, he quickly took it out and checked it, your name filling his screen made his heart skip a beat.

“It’s (Y/N). She’s asking where we are, and wants us to meet her at her apartment after she drops off Jess and MJ in 15 minutes.” Miguel mumbled as he looked down at his phone, before looking up at Peter then down at their prey on the ground. “She probably thinks we’re still with him, what should we do with him?”

Peter’s eyes followed Miguel’s gaze down to the half- conscious Daniel, silent as if thinking about what to say, or more likely what to do with him.

“We could leave him here for dead?” Peter suggested, but Miguel shook his head at the thought, too risky, they couldn’t have the chance of him being found by someone and taken to the hospital, that could ruin everything.

“You both… ar-are fucking psychotic! Killing me over some-some bitch who doesn’t eve-even give good fucking… fucking head!” Daniel yelled between coughs, more blood falling from his blue-turning lips, he looked like he had seen a ghost due to how pale he was becoming from the blood lost, and now he’s gonna become one. Miguel’s phone buzzed again, this time you only sent a single question mark, looking down at his phone.

“I want you to know that if I wasn’t about to be late to see you, I would beat this guy bloody, for the way he talks about you.” Miguel said out loud as if you could actually hear him, as if you were actually here to hear how true those words were, but instead Miguel raised his knife with one hand and grabbed Daniel’s hair with the other. Enjoying the way the Dani’s eyes widened in fear, his weak arms flailed around as he tried to fight the larger man off of him, but it was no use. “Guess I’ll just have to cut straight to the point.” He said, the smirk evident threw his altered voice before putting his knife against Daniel’s throat and slashing it open. Watching whatever life that was left in him drain from his eyes.

Peter being the skilled photographer he was, took a selfie of the two with their slayed animal, now it’s time to go claim their trophy.

—

Something was off.

Like seriously off, ever since Peter and Miguel disappeared at the party neither of them had answered their phone, and as soon Dani disappeared neither had he. Maybe the party wasn’t the best idea in retrospect, you let out a sigh as you entered your apartment, and collapsed on your couch, wanting to try and calm your racing thoughts a bit before you changed out of your costume. Closing your eyes, and taking in a deep breath.

Your phone started to ring.

Usually, you didn’t answer calls from people who weren’t already in your contacts, so the “blocked number” would normally set off red flags, but maybe the alcohol was still making your brain foggy, because without thinking you answer the call and put your phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

No answer.

You left out a huff and tried again.

“Hellooo?”

When you didn’t get an answer again you rolled your eyes.

“I think you got the wrong numb-“

“Wanna play a game?”

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

“I said, wanna play a game?”

“Um no thanks. I'm hanging up now.”

“Hang up and you won’t get to see your special surprise though.” Oddly enough, you grew a bit curious.

“Wha..what do I have to do?” You asked.

“It’s simple, We’re gonna play a small game of hot and cold.” You had a feeling this wasn’t a good idea, maybe you shouldn’t answer the call. “Right now you’re cold.”

Without another word, you slowly got up, and made your way down the hall, your floorboard creaking underneath your heels.

“Warmer.”

Your heart begins to beat in your ears, you bring a shaky hand up to the doorknob of your bathroom, you go to open the door when the voice from the other end of the phone spoke again.

“Colder.”

You quickly bring your hand back down to your side and let your heavy footsteps make your way into your bedroom.

“Hotter.”

You swallowed the thick lump of saliva down your throat as you made your way to the left side room, your eyes dead set on your closet.

“Hotter.”

You closed the gap between you and the closet, and brought your hand to the handle, mentally preparing yourself for whatever hides before the wooden doors.

“You're on fucking fire baby.”

Your hand drew back the door, the sight made you let out a blood curdling scream, almost dropping your phone in the process. Your Daniel, dead, sitting on the closet floor, gutted out like a fish. The voice on the other end of the phone let out a sly chuckle before speaking once again.

“Sorry about your boyfriend, guess all those muscles didn’t help much.” He mocked before the call went dead, and you finally released your phone, it falling to the floor, as your body began to shake and your breathing became rapid.

You let out a sob and began to stumble away from the mangled corpse that you once called your boyfriend, only for your back to meet with a what felt like a wall of muscle, you quickly look up over your shoulder, being met with the infamous ghostface mask that has been plastered all over the news.

“What’s the matter (Y/N)? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The altered voice taunted. No, no, no,no. This cannot be happening. You shook your head as another sob left your lips stumbling away from the masked killer and into the hallway, expecting him to follow after you, but instead he just watched you. If you were thinking straight. You’d probably realized that this was a trap, but you weren’t thinking straight, as you finally reached the front door, you went to unlock the door and leave your apartment, but before you even stepped foot out of the door a large hand came and grabbed you around your waist. You take in a deep breath and open your mouth to scream, but instead a white cloth came and covered your nose and mouth, the strong smell of chemicals quickly filling your lungs.

“Surprised (Y/N).” This voice was a bit deeper, then the one from your bedroom, your head became dizzy as you eyes fluttered, your vision was beginning to blacken, before you were fully go under, you saw the man holding you still was a lot larger than the other one, it clicked, there were two of them.

You black out.

—

“She out?” Peter asked Miguel as he slipped off his mask, Miguel following suit.

“Like a light.” Miguel smirks as he goes to pick you up bridal style, your body limply laying in his arms. The two couldn’t help but smile as they watched your sleeping form, so peaceful looking, like an Angel. Their angel. Their plan played out just as they wanted, you were theirs now, and theirs alone. No one could come in the way of you three anymore, all they had to do now was make sure you wouldn’t leave them. But how would you do that if you didn’t know where you were? You couldn’t. That’s why Miguel gently placed you in the backseat of Peter’s car, before getting into the passenger’s seat. They were going to make sure you were far, far away from your old life, so you could start your new one with your lovesick killers.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Hi! Could you possibly write a Regina x Reader fic where reader is the one to see the bus accident and help until the ambulance comes? Regina and reader have done some class projects in the past and finds out how much reader is struggling after seeing Regina hit by the bus

Even When you Cry you're Beautiful

|| Regina George x fem!reader

|| Warnings; pain meds/medication mentions, injured Regina, emotional reader near the end, swearing, Regina hit by a bus scene, hospital mentions, high mention

|| Summary; reader takes care of Regina through it all and Regina finally admits how she feels.

Requests open!

Started; october 9th

Finished; october 10th

~~~

Oh God. You stood there, frozen in place for you don't even know exactly how long. You could not believe what had just happened. It had already been intense watching Cady and Regina argue, but to then see her be hit by the bus? You felt like your life flashed before you and you weren't even the one the got hit.

You'd considered Regina one of your friends; you weren't a plastic by any means but you had always been there to help her out. Even having done a few class projects with her. Well- more like you did the work and she just sat there and looked pretty.

You weren't ready to see her get hid by a bus. So you were floored. It took you longer than it should have for you to get yourself together and run over. You should have acted faster," oh my God, Regina!!" You yelled. Coming to a stop next to her, she was completely unconscious and looked almost unrecognizable. People were freaking out, Janis and Cady had run over and stood next to you. Looking at Regina.

"I'm gonna be sick." Cady muttered the same time Janis said,

"Jesus fuck. She's looked better."

You shot a glare at Janis and immediately dialled 911," hang in there, Regina." You whispered. You explained what had happened to the lady on the other end of the call and she sent over an ambulance.

When the ambulance arrived, you managed to convince them to let you to ride and the back. Wanting to be there for Regina and make sure she would be okay, you doubted she would wake up. But if the off chance she did when you were there, well- you figured it might be nice for her to have someone by her side.

You stayed with her for as long as you could, your parents picked you up when visiting hours were over.

By the time Regina was awake, the hospital gave you a call. Since you had asked Regina's nurse if they could reach out to you, explaining that you were a close friend (even though you knew you weren't super close). You still wanted to have updates on how she was doing regardless.

After convincing your parents to take you, you got to the hospital and rushed to Regina's room. Practically bursting the door open and smiling when you saw the blonde, she looked better. Despite the neck collar," Regina!"

"Huh?" She glanced at you, a little confused when she saw you and the pain meds weren't helping at all." Y/N?"

"Hi, Regina." Your voice was soft as you walked over and sat by her side, taking in the familiar setting of the hospital room. Only this time there were more flowers and gifts by her beside and windowsill; you felt bad not bringing anything, but you just desperately wanted to see her.

"Why you here?" She wasn't completely coherent but it's not like she was impossible to understand either. You gave her a gentle smile.

"Wanted to check on you, see how you're doing. Pain meds hitting you hard?" You asked.

She gave you a dopey grin as she leaned a little closer, not able to bend much though with the brace." I'm soooooo high!" She whispered as she giggled.

You bursted out laughing, having not expected her to respond like that. In a way it was like she was just really high," I can see that."

She seemed to just stare at you for a long moment, thinking about something and with the meds she had it made it even harder to read her. Normally you could kind of tell.

"You are like... pretty," Regina said. Catching you entirely off guard. Did she really just say that? You chose not to believe it.

"I'm sure that's just the meds, Regina." You gave her hand a gentle pat and she shook her head. Well, as best as she could before wincing. Her wince made you grimace.

"No, I'm so serious. Always thought it," That made your eyes widen. Had she really always thought that? You fidgeted with her fingers, not wanting to think too much on it on the high chance it was just her pain meds. Little to your knowledge, they were making her incredibly truthful and she meant every word she'd told you.

Throughout the next week, you continued helping Regina. Doing whatever she needed. When she was finally okay enough to be home and off the meds, you were still there for her. Knowing she couldn't do a whole lot with her corrective neck collar still on.

"Hey, Y/N?" She said to you as you walked over with a cup of water for her.

"Yes, Gina?" You replied. The two of you had gotten even closer since you'd been helping her a lot. She actually genuinely liked you, too.

"Why haven't you left?"

The question caught you off guard; 'left'? You didn't quite understand what she meant by that. You sat on the edge of her bed, fixing her blanket for her so it was back over her chest before looking in her eyes. "Left?" You questioned.

"I'm a bitch. And you're definitely not my servant. You don't have to be here." She elaborated.

"Maybe not, but I want to be. You can be a pretty cool person and you've never really been bitchy to me." You paused and sighed, your own question on the tip of your tongue. Part of you was scared to ask, Regina could be unpredictable." Hey... when you were under pain meds-"

"Oh no." She cringed, she didn't know what you were going to say but she was almost sure she didn't want to know. Regina's sure she said a lot of questionable things and was worried about any secrets she may have revealed.

"It's not bad- at least, I don't think it is. But you called me pretty? And said you always thought it?"

"Well..." Regina trailed off, almost hesitant to admit this. But why was she hesitating? She gets what she wants and there was no way you didn't want her. No, that's not... she sighed. She needs to change. She nearly just lost everything, but still. She might as well admit it, not like she had much more to lose right now." Yeah. I have."

You were floored. She really meant it? You had chalked up all the times she'd flirted while you on the medication as just that. The medication. Apparently, there'd been some truth behind it all. You swallowed, but a smile crept on your lips and you felt a sense of relief so strong that you almost cried. Normally you weren't this emotional, but you'd been trying to hold in all your emotions over the situation. It was weighing on you way more than you let on and your mind could only handle so much weight. You took her hand in hers and she seemed to be concerned.

"Why are you crying?" She asked, her tone was the softest you'd ever heard it. Almost like she was trying to make an effort in changing.

"I'm just- relieved. I guess and I've been trying to keep all my emotions in and I just- can't anymore." You rambled out, your free hand moving as you spoke. Regina frowned and carefully moved her hand to your cheek, wiping away the tears.

"Even when you cry you're beautiful." She murmured. This was not the same person before the bus accident and that was becoming beyond obvious. Little did you know, it wasn't just the incident that made her want to change but you had too. She wanted to be better if it meant she got a shot with you.

You tried saying something but no words seemed to come out and you just cried. Regina hadn't realized just how much all this really effected you, she made a mental note to make it up to you when both of you were in better head spaces.

[forthelostones]

☠︎ female reader x ghostface!abby ☠︎ (part one!)

synopsis: abby finds you trying on your halloween costume and wants a private show.

warnings. 18+ (mdni); perv!abby, sub!reader x dom!abby, teasing, kn!fe play, fingering, grinding, guided masturbation, strap receiving/sucking, mirror play, squ!rting, and spanking.

an: its fall-time and i am excited for halloween so lets goooo. also, anyone else love ghostface, just me okay.

wc: 1.1k

PART TWO

It was October 30th and you were still figuring out what you should wear to the costume competition tomorrow. This was different for you, you had actually decided to show your body more, shorter skirt, tighter bra, darker makeup, the works. You had been in your room posing in the mirror adjusting your fairy costume. You open your camera and snap a few pics, bending over, showing your thong, and seeing what the view would possibly be. 

A text from an unknown number comes up on your screen. 

I like your top. 

You noticed the photo attached is a view of your ass peaking out the skirt.

You peer over your shoulder, out your bedroom window, startled by the text. You sit on the edge of your bed, taken aback by the timing of the random message. 

Wrong number, you reply. 

Green corset? 

Your heart drops as you move to walk to close your blinds. 

I can still see you baby. 

You notice your closet door opened slightly, which was normal, right? You had been rummaging through your clothes all night, making up safer outfits. But that was earlier, you hadn’t been in your room since then. You feel a beat in your lower stomach as you realize you may not be alone. 

You hear the floorboards creak as you accept that you’ve become helpless. In the mirror you see the white and black mask creep from the closet, startling you with a knife in their dominant hand. It shimmered under the dim light of the candles coasted across your room. 

“That’s pretty.” They said.

You couldn't help but notice the strong physique of the masked killer. Rock-like biceps stretching out a black t-shirt, defined calves forced into black jeans, and most importantly large, bruised hands.

They circle over to you and flaunt their knife in your face. Although the threat of death was prevalent, you squeezed your thighs together at the sight of their veiny hands wrapped around the grip. Your clit grew as the knife came close into view. 

“You like this?” You say calmly. 

They nod, lifting their mask to show you their wet lips, then planting a kiss on yours. You noticed the deep jawline and blonde hair peeking from under the mask. She gets on the bed behind you swiftly, then drags the knife slowly up the innermost sensitive part of your arm. You tingled with frightened desire. 

“Take it off.” She demanded. 

“This?” 

You reached for the back of the corset top, unstringing each lace delicately. You hear her panting irregularly at the simple sight of your back. You move slowly which makes her panting deeper, impatient, and sultry. The bedazzled top dropped to the floor and she automatically dropped the knife to pull you onto her lap. She places her thigh in between yours and finds your sweetness, you sigh at the relief of finally having someone other than yourself touching your clit. She brings her hands up to your breasts. As she palms your nipples in the mirror and tugs them roughly between her fingertips, you groan in pain. 

“Shut up.” 

You bite your lip to stifle the pain you feel. She pulls them further than you could imagine, which makes you buzz as you grind up and down her thigh desperately. She dips her fingertips into your throat, gagging you more than you’d like to admit, leaving spit dripping down your chin. She brought her wet fingers to your erect nipples and rubbed in circles quite gently. You toss your head back onto her chest as she flicks them with her fingertips. She pushes you off her chest, onto the ground, with your ass exposed in your short skirt. 

“You were gonna wear this out?” She asked laying a hard smack across your ass. 

You wince and nod slowly as she trailed her knife against your spine. You gasped as you felt a slight pinch, wondering if she was drawing blood. She reaches towards your white thong and snaps it into two with the end of the knife. She pinches the back of your neck with her hand and draws your head back. 

“I don’t know why you thought that was a good idea. What pervs are you trying to attract?” 

“The ones like you.” You reply. 

She tosses you back on all fours at your snarky comment.

She picks up your mangled panties and goes sit at the head of your bed. She crosses her legs with her heavy boots shaking dirt all over your clean duvet. You don’t dare react, you stay still in the position you left her until you notice she’s waiting for something. You peer at her in the mirror, tussling your soaked panties in her hand. You sit in front of your mirror with her sight still trapped heavily over you. You spread your legs wide open and perk your breasts up, waiting for her commands. 

“Go ‘head, suck those fingers.” She demands. 

You bring your fingertips into your mouth with no hesitation and slide your tongue in between the two, the view alone makes her spread her own legs. You push your pussy downwards on the floor, attempting to reach some connection with your clit. You grind harder as you gag on your fingertips, eyes watering, face blushing, and spit coasting your bottom lip. 

“Touch those nipples for me,” she demands.

You pull your fingers out of your mouth and to your left nipple, which was pulsing already, you circled your areola and pulled on your peak, which made a moan slip out of your mouth. You move to your right, the most sensitive one, and flick it just the way you liked it when you were alone. Her hand unbuckles her black pants to reveal a dark purple strap. Her thick hands ran up the length of it, and you breathed deeply wanting to feel it inside you. 

“Oh, you see something you want?” She said mischievously. 

You couldn’t even speak so you just nodded. 

“Then show me how you want me to fuck you.” 

You didn’t hesitate to send two fingers inside your wet hole, they slid right in with no friction. You curled them inside, pounding your pussy, placing your palm against your clit. You grind and massage your clit at the same time, causing you to sweat ferociously imagining her six-inch strap inside you. 

“What should I call you baby?” You groan.

“Abby.”  She couldn’t resist at revealing herself, to know that she’s taking you over the edge.  

“Abby? You like how I’m fucking myself for you?” 

“I do.” Her hands reach under her shirt, feeling for her nipples. 

You continue to make eye contact with her, wherever her eyes had been behind that mask, and spurt out wetness onto the mirror. She couldn’t help but keep her eyes on your fingers hugging your pussy so generously. Before you come over the edge you turn towards the edge of the bed and sit upright. You bounce on your two fingers, like you were taking her strap, and making your ass jump for her. She muttered something under her breath but you couldn’t quite make out what she said as you went dumb for her. She crawled towards the edge of the bed and stuck the strap in your mouth. The warmth coaxed your tongue as she pushed the back of your head deeper into her core. You look up with your wet eyes to see her watching your ass shake in the mirror. She moaned as the friction of the strap pressed against her perky clit. 

You so badly wanted to kiss her after she removed her strap from your cheeks. You look up to her with desperation, ready to be fucked. 

[malakaie]

had some feelings to write out – for/about @tommyend, no pressure at all to respond

I started watching wrestling – specifically, AEW – in late October 2023. It’s been just over a year since I started watching, and I didn’t expect it to consume as much of my brain-space as it has. When I started watching, I didn’t really know who anyone was. I had heard a few names – Randy Orton, CM Punk, Jade Cargill, Roman Reigns – but had no real concept of the landscape I was entering or what it would mean to get invested.

Truthfully, it was a little overwhelming, and there was more I didn’t understand than I did. In those first few weeks, I received one very helpful piece of advice: don’t try to understand everything. Find a wrestler or two whose vibe you like and stick with them – the rest will click into place eventually, or it won’t, and either way is fine.

And so I did. I think it was around the lead-up to Full Gear 2023 that I started really paying attention. There was something about what House of Black was doing that was different from anything else I was seeing. I could understand just enough to recognise talented athletes when I saw them, but I wasn’t quite plugged in enough to the overall wrestling “ecosystem” that that was enough on its own to get my attention. Now that I understand more of what I’m looking at, it’s easier to understand what I’m meant to be impressed by – it’s easier now to have that moment of, holy shit, how did they do that?

But I didn’t understand yet. I’d been watching wrestling for about a month and was still finding my footing. What I saw, and latched onto, in House of Black was a group of four impressive performers that I could tell were in love with the art of what they were doing. Everything was done with intent – the way they entered the ring, the different but cohesive styles with which each member of the House wrestled, the gear they wore, the ever-evolving paint on Malakai’s face, the evolution and growth of Julia’s character.

It was both the moment that I finally, properly understood that professional wrestling was also theatre—and, I think, the moment that I was magnetised. It felt like a faction that was made for me: a band of storytellers who wanted to take my hand and show me what wrestling could be and was and is, and had the creativity and cohesiveness and physical talent to pull it off.

I could breathe a sigh of relief. I wasn’t lost anymore, desperately trying to catch up to understanding something that everyone around me already seemed to know. I had a guide of some sort, and one that resonated: I’ve been reading since I was 3, writing stories since I was 11, have always been a little “strange,” drawn to creative types and niche hobbies and other people that don’t have many friends. And here was someone who not only felt like me, sounded like me, but was wanted and loved and succeeding. A stranger to me, in the way that performers and public figures always are, but I felt like it was going to be okay. If Malakai could make it—though I didn’t and don’t know him personally, I had no way of knowing if he was ever afraid, or if he doubted himself—then maybe I could, too.

The more I watched and the more I learned, the more true that became. I’ve been depressed and anxious most of my adult life. I have scoliosis that is likely to get worse as I get older, and causes me pain multiple times a week, if not every day. Hearing someone whose work I admired be open about his mental health—especially when sports industries have typically not been kind to people, perhaps especially men, who are vulnerable in that way—and be honest when he’s in pain shook something loose in me that I hadn’t quite realised was stuck and frozen in shame. It’s okay that I’m afraid. It’s okay that I have days where my brain is trying to consume itself. It’s okay that I’m in pain. Did I get out of bed today? Have I been outside? Have I eaten? Have I done something to be kind to myself—or, failing that, kind to someone else? Have I done something creative today?

I started my “gender journey,” for lack of a better phrase, in 2018. There was a lot, a lot, of messing around with pronouns, labels. I didn’t know what I was, only that “just a girl” didn’t feel quite right anymore. And then I felt like I was lying, because, well—I was fine being a girl when I was ten, and thirteen, and sixteen, so why was it suddenly different at 25? Sometimes I still feel like I’m lying. The generation above me often still holds an image of trans people that requires them to have always been miserable, always been “pretending.” A few months ago my mother suggested it was fine if my idea of being feminine had expanded, but she didn’t really believe I was trans, because I’d never been unhappy as a girl child, and besides that I looked like a “clone” of the small handful of other transmasc and nonbinary people she’s met. I must be a pod person. (Newsflash, mom: This is just what queer people look like, a lot of the time. I cut and dyed my hair and got one singular tattoo. How terrible.)

She didn’t ask me how I feel when people call me she, or her—it makes me feel horribly small and unreal, by now—and in fairness to her, I didn’t quite defend myself either. I cringed and shrunk and asked for time to think about it, when what I wanted to say is yes, I know I haven’t had the history you expect to see from me, but this is who I am, and I’m not telling you that I was never a girl. I’m telling you that girl isn’t the place where I stop.

But I was scared, and I felt cornered, and I didn’t say any of that.

What I did have, though, was an artist and a performer and a storyteller who did things with his expression, his clothing, how he presented himself to the world that was like a lightbulb going on. The confidence of a man who told stories with the way that he looked, and who used feminine symbols to do it. He wasn’t any less masculine—but it was an embracing of both that cemented who he was, and I thought: holy shit. I can do that. Our identities are not the same, and I’m not too keen on speculating about the identities of public figures that I don’t know in any event—but it’s reassuring, motivating even, to be able to regularly see someone comfortably expressing his gender (because, yes, cis presentation is gender expression too) in a way that makes sense to him and incorporates the feminine and resonates through his art without doubt or reservation or compromise. This is who we are. Take it or leave it.

I don’t know what’s coming next for any of us. AEW looks like such a different place—in a good way—from when I started watching, and the world is looking pretty scary these days, but I’m still here. The art that got me interested in wrestling in the first place is still here, and I have my theories—unsubstantiated, so far—about where Malakai and House of Black are taking their story, but regardless of theories I’ve been so fortunate to watch them continue to grow and evolve over the past year. There’s a lot I don’t know, but I know the love for the story and the art is real.

I don’t know you personally, Malakai, and I don’t want to claim to, no matter how many scraps I’ve gathered together from interviews and how much of the backlog of matches I’ve done my best to watch so I can understand where you’ve come from and where you’re going next. But your work and your love for your craft has moved me, and I’m glad I stayed alive when it was hard so I could be around to see it when it mattered.

[endlessmuse]

after all this time

‘I didn’t,’ he trailed ‘I didn’t think you’d call me back.’

There was a long pause, one filled with tension and unsaid words and memories and love, and sadness. Jude’s eyes met yours, then quickly averted, almost as if it never happened. What should you say? I’d always call you back? No, too desperate. I missed you? Too vulnerable.

‘I wasn’t planning on it.’ you finally settled, your defensive nature creeping out in full force. You fiddled with the bottom edge of your top, nerves seeping out from every pore of your body. It was pathetic, really – it had been a whole year.

His breathing was uneven, reaching your ears in shaky little huffs and puffs – so unlike the Jude everyone sees. The confident, cocky, charming Jude was left at the door. Inside your apartment was the Jude you were well acquainted with: the one that sat next to you in history class, that tugged on the back of your hair in school assembly, that asked you out on your first date. The one that cried as you broke up last October.

‘Right. I’m sorry. Had everything planned out, and like, I weren’t expecting you’d invite me round. And I have so much to say, so much I’ve wanted to say. I just – I don’t know where to start.’

This was new. Over the five years you’d been together you’d seen him in many situations. But this – nervous, rambling, on edge – this was new. It was making you even more nervous. He was always the calming presence you needed, but with him like this, you felt like a child again, anxious, afraid of everything and anything. It wasn’t meant to be like this.

‘I figured it would be easier if we spoke in person.’ You told him. You wondered if that was actually true, or if you just wanted to see him again, in your space again. You suppose you’ve told yourself that lie so many times – that you didn’t care for seeing him – that you almost believed yourself. Almost. He gave a hum of acknowledgment, perhaps waiting for you to elaborate, but you didn’t know how.

The silence was deafening and you couldn’t bare it anymore. Abruptly standing, you reach for the door to the kitchen. ‘I- I need a drink. You want anything?’ You ask him. You cringe at the words stumbling and stuttering out of your mouth. You hear your words dripping with nerves, and you knew he saw right through you. How you were just avoiding the conversation.

‘Yeah, um, water’s fine. Please. Thanks.’ He tells you. As you leave the living room, you hear Jude release a deep sigh, one which had clearly been weighing him down for a while.

God what was wrong with you. It’s Jude. You know him. He knows you. Get it together. You weren’t sure why he wanted to talk. The pair of you had been together since you were both 15, both practically joined at the hip. You’d grown used to often being long distance, creating schedules of visits, FaceTime date nights, and when he left for Dortmund, you even found yourself an internship there for a year. But Madrid changed everything.

You always knew how intense his schedule was, but this was a new calibre of busy. And with you graduating with your PhD at just 20, one of the youngest in your field, you were thrown into a completely new life. Albeit the life you always wanted.

You both tried. You’d both visit every other week, he’d come to you, you’d go to him. whatever worked. Until it didn’t. And sometimes hours would turn into days, and the days would turn to nights, and the next thing you knew you hadn’t really spoken to him in a week. You both saw it coming. 4 months into his move to Madrid, the relationship you once had was no longer there. But you didn’t know what more there was to say.

You reach for a glass in the cupboard, a cheap attempt at distracting yourself from the bitter memory of the last time he was in your home. He’d held you as you cried into his chest, his own tears dampening the top of your head.

You almost pour orange juice in the glass, eyes glancing to the cupboard with the bottle of tequila stored next to the Weetabix and granola. You settle on the orange juice. You’d been in here too long, and he knew it too.

‘She’s finally back,’ the familiar tone returning. ‘Thought you got lost.’

You rolled your eyes. ‘Glad you haven’t lost that sense of humour.’ You smiled for the first time that evening. It felt good. Too good. You hated how he made you feel like that 15-year-old girl again, how no one else could ever come close to making you feel like that. You guys broke up, mutually, but it still hurt. You never really moved on. How could you? You’d just shoved thoughts of him somewhere deep inside, only for late nights with too much wine or bad days at work.

Your body was itching. Your skin felt hot, and your clothes felt too tight. You needed to lie down.

He took a sip of water. He looked shifty, eyes darting from wall to wall, picture frame to picture frame, as if discovering some foreign, unknown territory. His mouth moved as if to say something, but he closed it.

Why was here? What’s taking him so long to spit it out? Should you say something? No, he was here first. God why are you so stubborn. You should just tell him to go, that you have work in the -

‘I miss you.’

Oh. Okay.

A breath of relief escapes him, but as he looked at you properly for the first time since last year, regret settled into his expression. You shifted in your spot, hands on top of each other, arms crossed, back to hands on top of each other. You decide to stand.

‘Say something.’ He pleaded, his voice a whisper that you only caught because you were paying attention to every detail. ‘Please?’

Get it together. You took in a few deep breaths, processing what you’d just heard. You’d grown used to being alone. Thoughts of Jude were for late, lonely nights. You never considered this – him back in your house.

It was scary. Scary how you were having such a visceral reaction to him here. Your palms felt clammy, and your mouth felt dry.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Right. It’s okay.’ He cleared his throat, setting his water down. ‘I should probably go.’ He stood awkwardly and took a few steps towards the door.

‘Wait. I didn’t mean – don’t leave.’

He stood by the door, waiting for you to continue. He looked tired, like he’d just ran a marathon. You probably didn’t look much better.

‘I miss you too.’ You apparently found the courage to admit the truth, to yourself and to him. His eyes seemed to light up, not noticeable, not unless you were looking for it. He didn’t say anything, and so you took it as a push for you to reply. ‘I just. I’m scared. I guess I waited for you to call, for so long, and you never did. And so, I thought you never would. I figured you were doing good. Without me. And like I found ways to go on with my life and stuff, but like, I felt stupid for missing you. Because I didn’t know if you did.’

It was one of those nights then, full of too many truths and too much vulnerability. You felt sick, tired from all the words, both said and unsaid. You looked at him, he looked so handsomely deep in thought. You felt stupid for going on so much, regretting every single word, the longer he took to respond.

He took a single step closer to you, closing the distance. The room suddenly felt so much smaller.

‘You seriously think that? That I was fine without you? That I didn’t miss you? I thought about you every day. Every single time something good happened the only person I wanted to tell was you. It never felt right. None of it. Not without you.’ He reached out, held both your wrists with his hands.

You shuddered a little at the touch, having not been this close to him in so long. It felt as if everything you’d done this past year had led to this moment. His thumbs swiped across your wrists, so, so gently. And with that, everything you had pushed into one teeny tiny box had just sprung out.

‘All I thought of was you. All I’ve ever wanted is you.’ he continued.

You withdrew your arms from his grasp, forcing both of yourselves to reality. ‘But nothing’s changed. We’re in the exact same position as last year, and I can’t go through that again.’

‘I know that. Neither can I. But I can’t live without you. I’ll make this work. For both of us. So long as you want this too.’ The last part sounded like a question. He seems to have regained his usual confidence, sounding more and more sure of himself.

You’d never been one to take risks. You liked to plan everything, finding a certain charm in normality and routine. You craved it. And so, what you wanted to say, what you probably should have said, wasn’t what you said.

‘I want this. More than anything Jude.’

He gave you his first proper smile of the night, the familiar glint in his eyes returning. He took a moment to look at you, to really look at you again, and you felt your legs turn to jelly. How is it that after years of knowing him, he still has this effect on you? You felt the jigsaw puzzle that was your life slowly slotting itself together, and you almost felt confident that things were going to be okay. Sure, you were hesitant, but that was your nature.

‘I’m glad. I think I would have died if you didn’t.’

‘Bit dramatic, don't you think?’

Jude’s hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your cheekbone so softly, it felt like a memory of his touch. The two of you stood there in silence, just breathing, his eyes never leaving yours, as though he was committing every detail to memory. For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was something so comforting in the quiet.

He broke the silence first, his voice barely a murmur. “When I said I thought about you every day, I meant it. I’d be halfway to the stadium or on the plane, and my mind would drift to you. I wanted you, every single time. And I knew it was too late… but that didn’t stop me thinking of you.”

You shifted, feeling the dull ache in your chest intensify, not because you doubted him but because you believed him. And you’d spent so long trying to convince yourself that he hadn’t been thinking of you at all, that maybe it had been easier for him. The reality was harsher: you’d both been carrying this weight, alone, pretending you were fine without each other.

After a moment, you lifted your chin and whispered, “I want this. More than anything. But let’s take it slow, okay? We need to figure this out together. No rushing back in like nothing happened.”

A soft smile crept onto Jude’s lips, and he nodded, understanding in his eyes. “Slow. Whatever you need. I’m here.” And for the first time since he’d walked into your apartment, a calm settled between you both. You didn’t know what the future held, but for now, you had this — a promise, a fresh start.

The air was different. It felt lighter. He took your hands in his, properly this time, and in the quiet of your apartment, everything felt right again.

————————————————————————

I don’t know what this is. It’s really bad I’ll probably delete soon. It has not been proofread. Also I don’t know how to use tenses. I was bored. Sorry

[pupwashing]

The Cuck Curse

leon kennedy x fem!reader x zombie!carlos oliveira

tags: dubcon, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, cucking

wc: 1.7k

a/n: part one of my planned October mini series.. whats scarier than getting cucked by various creatures? comments, rbs, and general feedback is appreciated!

Leon’s not one to believe in superstitions, but he is one to whine when things don’t go his way.

Throwing around the word ‘curse’ makes him seem like a baby, and Leon Kennedy is no baby.

Leon Kennedy is a stud, and that fact makes him feel entitled to things he has no business being entitled to, like women.

Leon and women don’t mix well, despite the fact that he’s cute enough to eat. He’s heard those words since birth, from his peers at the playground and the grandmothers at grocery stores.

So naturally, he’s got an ego around his appearance. That same ego makes him unappealing to the vast dating pool.

Leon swore he wouldn’t die a virgin, and he meant every word of that swear, so when Raccoon City descended into zombie-fueled chaos, his only thought was surviving long enough so he’d get to have sex with somebody, anybody.

That’s where you come in.

You’re a rookie police officer, just like Leon. You’re also having a shitty first day. You two have enough in common that you’re traveling together, and he’s convinced that once you find a safe enough spot, you’ll let him hit.

He’s seen the way you look at him. You think he’s attractive, and he’s a stranger to you, so you don’t know about his arrogance or his general asshole-ery. It’s like he’s finally found favor from God.

But to fuck, you two have to find somewhere safe to camp out, and this police station has fallen into complete and utter ruin.

Many of the rooms were either filled with corpses of the dead or just too torn up to safety stay in, and Leon was starting to get irritated. There’s always something getting in the way of him getting laid, and it’s currently the zombie apocalypse.

Exploring the station, you two finally come upon the S.T.A.R.S. office. It isn’t filled with the undead, thankfully, so it’s suitable to serve as a place of rest. You both have been running around the station all night, and it’s surprisingly hard to outrun a hoard of hungry zombies.

As you focus on boarding up the office, Leon is shamelessly checking you out.

Women in uniform are one of Leon’s many weaknesses, and he’s already pent up because he skipped out on jacking off last night. He’s coming to regret that decision now.

“You’re pretty strong.” Leon comments, pressing his front to your back as you finish boarding up the door.

He was going to add ‘for a girl’ to the comment, but he decided to hold his tongue. He figured giving you a backhand compliment wouldn’t make you want to have sex with him.

“Thank you, you’re uh, you’re pretty strong too.” You replied, shivering from his close proximity.

Leon wasn’t exactly doing much of the heavy lifting at all.

In fact, he was barely doing any lifting. Too distracted by his own goal of having sex, he’s been leaving you to fend for your own against the zombies. He hasn’t fired a single bullet all night, and it’s making you wonder why he even has a gun in the first place.

“You know,” He began, his plushy pink lips brushing against your ear.

“I think we deserve to unwind a little. We’ve been running for our lives all night, and we seem to be holed up in here pretty safely. What do you say?”

His voice was husky with a hint of a whine to it, as if he’d cry if you denied him what he so desperately wanted.

Leon is cute, and you haven’t gotten laid in a couple days. You’re pretty sure that your ex-fuck buddy became part of the undead, so you don’t have anyone waiting up for you either.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” You murmured as you turned to face him. His eyes darkened, a smirk on his lips. Finally, Leon Kennedy would get to fuck as he so rightfully deserved.

Leon gripped your hips tightly as he leaned in, letting his lips connect with yours. He knew you guys weren’t exactly in the safest place to try and take it slow, but sucking face with a girl that wants to fuck him is important in his eyes.

You could tell he seldomly kissed anyone, because it was incredibly sloppy. He didn’t know what to do with his tongue, his teeth clashed against yours, and he was drooling in your mouth.

You pushed his chest with a polite smile. “Maybe we should skip the kissing, yeah? Don’t want to run out of time.” You suggested, and Leon nodded along.

He lowered his head to your neck, licking and nipping at your skin. At least he knows how to do hickeys correctly.

You tilted your head back to give him more access, moaning softly at the feeling. His lips sucked greedy marks onto the sensitive flesh of your neck, and it seemed like he wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon.

The two of you were so into the steamy scene that you didn’t realize the heavy footsteps of something approaching the office. The creature’s heavy breaths could be heard outside the door, but neither of you realized until it was too late.

The door to the S.T.A.R.S. office was ripped open, those boards you took time to place doing nothing to stop the raw strength of a rogue zombie.

Leon pulls away from you, shock etched on his features. This zombie isn’t like the others. It’s someone who’s been freshly turned, and whoever was turned must’ve been huge.

The zombie stared at you and Leon, but did it did not charge, instead, it approached slowly.

You were shocked, frozen with fear. It was obvious regular bullets wouldn’t take this thing down, but you were wondering if you would even need them. It wasn’t hostile, but that raised more questions than answers. If it didn’t want brains, what was it after?

The zombie stopped in front of you, looking down at your form as if it were sizing you up.

You stared back at it, noticing a patch on the tactical vest it wore. It has writing on it, so you tried reading it.

“C. Oliveira?” You mused aloud, which got the attention of the zombie. It groaned, reaching to grab you. It’s hands were clammy and cold, and it made you yelp.

“Let go of me!” You demanded, and Leon stepped into action. He tried to rush the zombie, but it flung him into the wall, which knocked the wind out of him. He could only watch what the zombie planned on doing to you.

You were frightened by its immense strength. If it could knock Leon into a wall, what else could it do? Your mind raced with frantic questions of the capability of the monster, as well as it planned on doing.

The question of its intentions was swiftly answered when it ripped your uniform to shreds, exposing your underwear.

“Hey! What was that for?” You exclaimed, but the zombie didn’t answer. It pinned you to the wall, keeping you firmly in place as its hand when down its pants.

Suddenly, everything was crystal clear. This zombie was horny and had found its target to relieve itself with. You.

You weren’t a fan of being a fuckdoll for an undead hunk, but you also weren’t a fan of having broken bones, so you didn’t move.

You gulped when you saw the zombie take out its dick. Its somehow all in tact, and it’s grossly huge.

Before you could even blink, the zombie pulled your panties to the side, slamming into you seconds after. Your eyes rolled to the back of their sockets when it did so.

You had no time to adjust before the zombie began to thrust, its hips snapping like there was no tomorrow. You couldn’t help but moan. As ruthless as it was, it felt good.

Leon was watching all of this, and he was pissed. He was about to get laid, just for this zombie to barge in and take his fuck?

Leon knew about cucking, and cucking is for losers who are unattractive and can’t fuck, so they watch other people do it for them. That’s not who Leon is.

Leon Kennedy is not a cuck.

It’s painful to listen to you moan as the zombie fucks into you, its dick stretching your gummy walls and bullying your cervix. He’s surprised that you can take dick so well, and it fills him with a terrible jealousy.

It pisses him off, how he has to listen to the squelch of your pussy, or the deep grunts from the zombie as it brutally splits you open.

You thought it would hurt, having some brute of a zombie ram its way deep into your guts, but the feeling of pleasure trumps the feeling of any type of pain.

The zombie’s grunts and huffs quicken as its thrusts do the same. It’s heavy balls slap against your clit, making your knees even weaker. You’re closing in on an orgasm, and so is the zombie.

More hard thrusts make you cum with a cry, causing you to cream around the zombie’s cock and slick to drip down your thighs.

The zombie groans lowly as it cums deep inside of you, pumping its thick and sticky seed into you. Once its dick is flaccid again, the zombie pulls out, letting you collapse onto the floor as it exits the office.

Leon can’t believe his eyes, seeing you sweaty and naked on the ground, a pool of cum dripping out of you that isn’t his own. It makes his blood boil.

Seeing the zombie leave, Leon steps up, finding some paper towels to clean you up with. You looked a mess, and the only reason he cared was because it wasn’t of his doing. If you looked like this after he fucked you, he would’ve been proud.

After you were clean and calm, Leon decided it would be best if the two of you tried to escape the station instead of camping out.

It was obvious seeing you get fucked in front of him by a damned zombie was pissing him off.

You both decided to never talk about that incident ever, to anyone. It was embarrassing for the two of you, and it would be awkward to explain that you got fucked by a zombie so hard you came.

At least something like this would never happen again, right?

[spiceseal]

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟚

October 3. Prompt: Handjob Modern Au!Sanji x Gender Neutral!Reader

Pronouns: You/yours

Credit for the Prompt. Kinktober 2024 @absurdthirst Ivy's Mashup List 2024 Word Count: 1738 Includes: Modern Au/ College Au/ Domestic Au?? Sanji is not a virgin but It's his first real relationship so the reader makes him nervous. Kissing and touching. handjob,, Sanji is flustered and a Dominant Reader. They live together. Reader takes a break from mid-term studying to take care of him. food was mentioned briefly but not much. some cursing and begging. Sanji is a little desperate. One pet name (babe), I think. They do mess around in the kitchen,, I know he would never but its okayyyy. Notes: AAAHHH my first One Piece fic,, I did my best,, SORRY ITS SO LONG!!! no beta!!! I feel like this is messy but I'm getting back into the swing of fanfics again

Sanji’s knuckle wrapped on the door to your shared room. He still couldn’t believe you two actually shared a space together. It made his heart race a bit each time if he thought about it too much. Really, if he thought about you too, he was wayyyy too excited. Sanji had never had a relationship long-term relationship. Dating you made him nervous. Sure, he had sexual experiences. But dating you seriously made him feel like he was inexperienced in every department. The hold you have over that man made him melt.

“It’s unlocked,” Your voice called out from inside the room. You sounded busy but not dismissive. Sanji turned the handle before pushing the door open. Sanji’s eyes landed on your back. He glanced and saw you were working on your laptop. He knew midterms were next week for you. But he couldn’t help but want your attention. He admired the way the lamp on the desk illuminated your skin. Sanji swallowed his jitters and put on his calm and suave personality…. or at least he tried to.

“You need a break? I’m happy to make something to eat.” Sanji offered as he came up behind you. His hands rested on your shoulders. He felt the way your body was so tense from being hunched over your desk and laptop. A deep sigh, your shoulders slouched. 

“Yeah, but I can go with you. It’s been a while since I stretched.” You said tiredly. Sanji stepped back to give you space while you stood up and stretched with a yawn. As your yawn caused you to tear up, Sanji’s eyes trailed down your figure as you stretched. The lower half of your shirt slid up and exposed a bit of your midriff. Sanji cleared his throat and tried to not stare blatantly despite being your boyfriend. He always liked stare but he made the effort to be more respectful since you two lived together. Not that you minded his staring anyway. 

Your arms dropped after the stretch. Sanji let you go ahead of him. In passing, your hand grazed against his as the two of you walked towards the kitchen. Sanji kept glancing at you as you walked. The short but soft touch in passing. The way you walked, the way your hair moved as you did. The way your hips moved slightly from side to side as you walked. Sanji felt a heat creep up his back. 

‘No! No! Calm down. Now is not the time to act desperate.’ Sanji thought to himself and gave his head a little shake as if that would make his thoughts go away. He quickly stepped around you to make it into the kitchen before. He rolled his sleeves as he glanced back at you. 

“What did you want to eat, Y/N? I’ll make you anything you’d like.” Sanji grinned softly at you while washing his hands.

With a small tired yawn, you walked over to the fridge. While opening you, your sight stayed on Sanji. Poor baby, you could practically see the nervousness and anticipation in his body language. You suppressed a chuckle in amusement at the subtle expression of Sanji’s eagerness.  You tilted your head to look into the fridge. There were some leftovers and other things in there.

Sanji stared at you and his eyes stayed on your pursed lips. A habit you had when you were thinking or indecisive. It always felt like a taunt for him to kiss you. Of course, he knew it wasn’t. But if he wasn’t so damn nervous around you, he would’ve taken the chance to even give you a small peck on the lips. Sanji wanted to see if you were as cute and flustered as he imagined. If only he dared to do so. Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“Don’t do anything too crazy. I can finish the rest of my Chinese takeout.” Sanji wanted to cook for you but if you wanted to eat leftovers from yesterday, he wouldn’t deny you. Sanji nodded and moved closer to grab the takeout containers from the fridge. When he stepped and leaned closer to you, you placed a kiss on the corner of his lips. 

“A-ah.” Sanji widened his eyes a bit and all his calm washed away. His cheeks reddened a bit before bit his bottom lip to not burst out smiling. “Don’t tease me like that, Y/N” Sanji grabbed the containers and set them on the counter. But his mind had started to start spiral. 

‘Would it be selfish to ask for another kiss?’

Sanji thought to himself as he tried to not glance back at you. His ears caught the sound of the fridge closing and your small laugh. Damn it, you read him like an open book. His hands were a little shaky as his nerves caught up to him. His breath hitched a bit as your hands snaked around his torso from behind. Your warm lips pressed against the back of his neck. Sanji’s face was starting to get flushed. “Y/N?” 

You spoke softly near his ear. “I guess I’ve been neglecting you this week cause of midterms, huh?” Your hand switched from his torso to be over his hand. You guided his hand to set the food back on the countertop. Sanji glanced back at you before turning around to you. You had him cornered against the counter. Sanji’s eyes stared at your face before looking away. His hand hesitated to rest on your hip. The way his face was red from his blushing. It looked like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“Do you need a breather, San-“ “No.” 

Sanji answered quickly, probably faster than he would have wanted but he didn’t want to lose your attention or the heat of the moment. You chuckled a bit before nodding reassuringly. You leaned in and kissed him in an attempt to ease him out of his nervousness. But you were met with a kiss that felt needy on his part. 

There the two of you were, in your kitchen, making out. Sanji’s hand gradually gripped at your hip tight and then loosely before tightening again. He was profusely blushing and his breathing got more labored before he pulled away reluctantly. With a short pant, Sanji grunted a bit. His lips opened to speak before he closed them, his gaze lowered as if he was embarrassed. You raised a brow before glancing where his gaze fell. Your eyes landed on the tent in his pants. It was endearing how fast he got turned on from being somewhat intimate with you. It always made him feel insecure but you loved it. You loved that his body reacted you to openly. It just showed his attraction to you and in turn, it made you want him more. 

“No worries, Sanji,” You said softly before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. His jeans slightly lowered and you didnt hesitate to slip your hand beneath the waistband of his brief. Sanji furrowed his brows and his breathing hitched as your hand touched him. 

“F-fuck,” Sanji stuttered out. His hips jutted towards your hand. Sanji’s hands moved a bit frantic to lower his briefs to his mid-thigh. It was embarrassing to be standing in the kitchen. But the way your hand wrapped around his length and stroked him off made him want to melt into a puddle. Sanji panted as he felt hotter from how close you were to him. His heart was pounding but he loved the way you touched him. Your index finger rubbed his tip, rubbing in the precum on himself. You hummed in satisfaction when Sanji moaned shakily by your ear. He leaned his head down against your shoulder, his hips weakly thrusting against your hand and hand gripping at your shirt. His cheeks were flushed red, his eyes had a hazy look to them, clouded by his pleasure and his cock was throbbing with need. 

You listened to the sounds of his heavy breathing and small whimpers. Your name was being mumbled out and moaned like a endless prayer from his lips. Your eyes switched between watching Sanji’s needy expression and down at how desperately he was trying to fuck your hand. You were almost tempted to drop to your knees and let him fuck your mouth instead but the way he was holding onto you and leaning against you for support made you stay still. His head against your shoulder, blond hair messily tossled against your shirt, his flustered sounds were music to your ears. You could feel your own arousal building up as he completely let himself go. 

“Y-Y/n. Fuck, oh god,, P-please... Let me cum. I wanna cum for you.” Sanji begged you breathlessly. Sanji opened his eyes and tilted his head to look at you. His lips stated parted as he leaned even closer. You nipped at his bottom lips before nodding at him. You kissed him once again. This time, you slipped your tongue into it. He breathed in sharply and kissed you back desperately as if you ever the very oxygen he breathed. Your hand gave him a small light squeeze around his member before you started pumping your hand faster with no warning beforehand. His hips jerked a bit and his back arched. Each moan you drew him was so much hotter than the last. He started to cum, Sanji urgently grabbed your hand to hold it still while he (pathetically) humped your hand. His cum smeared into your palm and between your fingers. You watched him as he came to a halt. His dick was twitching and dripping his mess onto the floor. Sanji panted heavily and he rested his forehead against your shoulder again. 

“...I’m not gonna clean that for you, babe. Sorry.” You said to him as you used your free hand to rub his back. Sanji laughed breathlessly before nodding, He kissed the side of your neck and hummed in acknowledgement. He felt embarrassed to have made mess of your hand and the kitchen floor. But that’s okay. Sanji looked at you shly and he mumbled, “No worries, but uh… Can I make you cum now before you go back to studying? 

You saw that hopeful but shy smile on his face. You chuckled and forgot about wanting to eat something and your study guide could wait a little longer. 

[piinksdoll]

→ [808 | Spencer Reid/Emily Prentiss]

Pairing~ Spencer Reid x Fem!Bau!Reader, Emily Prentiss x Fem!Bau!Reader

Genre~ angst, fluff, kissing

Word Count~ 2.8k

Warnings~ heartbreak, wine thats rlly it

a/n~ k this is very angsty, sad spence, sad reader, cute emily tho so yeah! have fun lmk what yall think! also NOT PROOFREAD!!!!

Today is the day. October 17th. 808 days. 

Spencer and I have been together for 808 days. I've counted every day since the first time he said ‘I love you’. I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was after a particularly hard case, and I had gotten hurt. After coming back to Quantico he insisted on driving me home. He walked me to my door and stood in front of me. His hands were trembling, the rain soaked his hair and his clothes. He looked at me with pure adoration before the words left his lips. “I love you Y/n.” 

I have been up for 6 hours, pacing my apartment trying to prepare myself for what's to come. He's on his way here and I know why. It’s over.

I glance up at the clock, 7:58. He’ll be here any minute. Suddenly I'm snapped out of my thoughts with the knock on my door. I opened the door and there he stood.  “Come in.” I moved out the way to let him in. He enters my apartment, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings as if he’s trying to memorise every detail. The warmth of my home feels so stark against the chill of the situation.

“Hey.” His voice barely above a whisper. “Hey.” I replied, my voice almost inaudible. “Do you want some coffee or-?” I start, desperate to break the silence, but he cuts me off. “No, I- ” He hesitates, glancing down at the floor before meeting my eyes. “I think we need to talk. I swallow hard, nodding slowly as the knot in my stomach tightens. “Yeah, I think we do.”

“Y/n, I don't know how to say this. I've been thinking about us, about everything.” He looked at me with those damn brown eyes. I could melt in them. “I think... I think we need to take a break. I need time to figure things out.” My brows furrowed in confusion. “Spencer. I don't know what to say to you.”

He nods slowly, tears pooling in his eyes. “I think it’s for the best. For both of us.” I shook my head, laughing bitterly at his words. “The best? For both of us? No Spencer, I think this is just for you.” His brow furrows, confusion mixed with hurt flashing across his face. “What do you mean?” I close my eyes trying to stop my tears from falling. “I mean, you’ve found something with JJ, haven’t you?” I cross my arms defensively, my heart racing. “You’re too scared to admit it, but you want her. You’re using ‘us’ as an excuse to justify leaving.”

“That’s not true!” he protests, his voice rising slightly. “I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. You know how much I care about you.” I shake my head at his words. 

“No Spencer, you don't because if you did, we wouldn't be here. Don't act like there's nothing going on between you too because there is. I've seen the stolen glances, the lingering touches. Do you think im stupid? I've seen the way you look at eachother so don't. Don't try to pretend you care about my feelings because you do not.” A sob escapes my lips. My hands are shaking and tears are streaming down my face as I continue “You don't get it do you? You are my whole world Spencer. I'd give my life for you and all I get is ‘I didn't plan for this to happen?’ You’re leaving me for one of, not only yours, but also my best friend. Like who does that to someone they love.” I shake my head, my tears blurring my vision, and for a moment, it feels like the world is collapsing around me. 

“I thought we had something special,” I say, my voice cracking. “Every day for 2 years, I believed we were building a future together. But now, here we are, and you’re throwing it all away.”

“Just go Spencer, I can't look at you without it ripping my heart out.” My voice trembles. He freezes for a moment, his hand still hovering over the doorknob, and I can see the hurt in his eyes “Y/N…” he starts, but I can’t bear to hear any more. “Please,” I choke out, forcing myself to meet his gaze one last time. “Just go.” His eyes search mine, a mixture of longing and despair etched across his face, and I want to scream at him to stay, to tell him I’ll forgive him, that we can work through this. But I can't do that to myself.  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he leaves my apartment for the last time. 

My knees give in, I hit the floor unable to hold myself up. A gut wrenching scream leaves my lips, it feels as if the walls are closing in on me suffocating me with the weight of my heartbreak. I curl into myself, clutching my arms around my legs, the tears flowing freely now as sobs wrack my body. Each cry is a release, a desperate attempt to let go of the pain that clings to me like a second skin. It's over

—

Tonight is the first pasta and wine night at Rossi’s since Spencer left me for JJ. I smooth out my dress before heading out. Emily came to pick me up, “Hey, gorgeous! Ready to have some fun?” she asks, pulling me into a quick hug. I force a smile. “Yeah, let’s do this.” 

The drive to Rossi’s was quiet. I felt like Emily wanted to say something but chose not to pry. As we pulled into the driveway of Rossi’s gorgeous house, I saw Spencer’s car already parked. It made my stomach uneasy. I feel a pang in my chest, but I shake it off as we step inside.

“Y/N! Emily! You made it!” Penelope squeals, rushing over to pull me into a tight hug. Her excitement is contagious, and I can’t help but smile. “Of course! Wouldn’t miss Rossi’s cooking for the world,” I reply, attempting to sound cheerful. I felt Emily squeeze my hand, she gave me an encouraging smile as we walked further into the house. 

I catch glimpses of Spencer and JJ together as we walk past the kitchen into the living room. They’re sitting side by side on the couch, sharing quiet laughs and playful nudges. The way Spencer leans closer to her, the way JJ tucks her hair behind her ear, it all feels like a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost. I swallow hard, forcing myself to look away.

I walk back into the kitchen not wanting to witness them for another second taking a seat on the island with Emily standing next to me. “How are you doing bella?” Rossi asks concern etched on his face as he sets down a plate of freshly baked garlic bread.

I force a smile, trying to mask the hurt inside me. “I’m okay. Just… enjoying the night.” He gives me a knowing look, one that makes my heart sink a little. “You know I’m here for you, right? You don’t have to put on a brave face for me. And I know you’ll find someone, in fact they may be closer than you think.” I look at him confused. “Thanks, Rossi,” I reply, my voice soft. “I appreciate it.” I look back at Emily whose cheeks are now covered in a pink hue.

“What’s going on with you two?” I ask, raising an eyebrow playfully to mask my curiosity. She straightens up, her demeanour shifting. “Nothing! Just… a little wine, that’s all,” she stammers, glancing at the glass in her hand as if it holds all the answers. “Uh-huh, sure,” I tease.

After dinner we all begin to, wine is flowing a little more freely, and laughter filling the spaces between conversation. I catch JJ glancing at me more than once from across the living room, but I do my best to avoid her eyes, pretending to be focused on Emily’s story about some misadventure with Penelope. Eventually, JJ stands up “I’ll be right back,” she whispers to Spencer before making her way to the couch im seated on, and I feel the dread in my stomach grow as she walks towards me.

“Y/N?” JJ’s voice is gentle as she comes to stand by me. “Can we… talk for a second?” I hesitate, glancing at Emily, who gives me a subtle nod. I take a deep breath, then nod, standing up to follow JJ out of the living room and onto the back patio. The cool winds brushed me, I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself. 

“Y/N,” JJ begins softly, “I know I should’ve talked to you sooner. I just… I didn’t want to hurt you more than I already have.” I blink back the sting of tears in my eyes, She takes a breath, “I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. It just… did. And I’m sorry. I never wanted to cause you pain.” I nod slowly, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “I know, JJ,” I whisper, my voice softer than I expected. “But you did. You really hurt me.”

JJ’s face falls, and I can see the guilt in her eyes as she steps a little closer, her voice shaky. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. And you have every right to not forgive me or let me in your life. I care about you. You’re my family.”

I give her a small, sad smile. “That’s the thing, Jaje,” I say quietly. “You’re like my big sister. I’ve always looked up to you, trusted you. That’s why this hurts so much. I don’t know why you’d do this.”

She looks down, biting her lip as tears well up in her eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you,” she says again, her voice breaking. “It just… I don’t know how to explain it. Spencer and I, we just…”

I shake my head, cutting her off gently. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. These things happen, and I know you didn’t plan for it. But it still hurts, JJ.” Her shoulders sag, and I can see the weight of her guilt bearing down on her. “I know,” she whispers, tears spilling over. “And I wish I could take it back. I really do.” I reach out, placing my hands on her arms lightly, offering her an understanding look. “I can forgive you, JJ,” I tell her softly. “With time, I will. But right now… I just need space. I need time to heal.” JJ nods, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I understand. And I’m so sorry, Y/N. I wish I could make it right.”

“I know you are,” I reply. “And I appreciate that you’re here, apologising. But it’s going to take time.” She sniffs, trying to compose herself. “If you ever want to talk, I’ll be here. I just want you to know that.”

I give her a small nod. “Thanks, JJ. You’ll always be my sister. No matter what. I love you.” JJ’s breath hitches at my words, her eyes widening in surprise. But as I pull her into a tight hug, I feel her tense body soften against mine, and she wraps her arms around me in return. “I love you too, Y/N,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “I always will.” I give her a warm smile before returning to the group. 

—

It’s been a month since everything with Spencer and JJ. A long, painful month, but slowly, things have been getting easier. I’ve been spending more time with Emily lately. She’s been there for me, a constant source of support when I needed it most. What started as a few friendly drinks after work or late-night phone calls turned into something more, a connection I hadn’t realised was forming. 

Tonight, the team is out for drinks, one of those rare evenings where the case is over, and for once, we don’t have to rush off to the next one. The bar is lively, the music loud, and the energy infectious. Emily and I have been dancing for the past hour, laughing and letting loose. I haven’t felt this carefree in a long time. I step away from the dance floor for a second, and go to the table where Derek, Penelope, Aaron, Rossi, and Spencer were sat. Emily and JJ went to grab drinks. 

“So, you and Prentiss looked pretty cozy out there. Do I sense a relationship perhaps?” Derek teases me, nudging my shoulder with a playful grin, I roll my eyes, trying to play it off, but I can feel a blush creeping up my face. “Derek, it’s not like that,” I protest, though my voice betrays me. 

Penelope leans in, her eyes have a look of mischief. “Uh-huh, sure. You’ve been glued to each other all night. Just saying.” Even Hotch cracks a small smile, sipping his drink. “It’s been nice to see you so relaxed lately,” he says, with genuine warmth in his voice. I can’t help but smile back “I’m just enjoying the night, guys. And even if I like her, who says she likes me?” They all look at me in shock, “Y/n be serious for a second, she cant get enough of you. You guys are attached at the hip every second you’re together.” Penelope exclaimed, trying to convince me. “I- I don't know you guys…” I shake my head reluctantly, as Morgan is about to reply Emily and JJ come back with drinks for everyone. “What’re we talking about?” Emily asked as she slid into the booth next to me. “They’re being ridiculous as always and I kinda wanna leave…” I whispered the last part leaning into her shoulder. “Alright we can leave, ok you guys I think we’re done for the night. We're gonna head out!” I let out a breath of relief as we made our way out of the bar. 

Emily took my hand into hers shooting chills up my spine. I thought about Penelope and Derek’s words, could she really see me like that? Especially after seeing me and supporting my relationship with one of our mutual friends? As I was about to speak up Emily beat me to it. 

“You know, you're someone I look forward to seeing everyday Y/n.” The look in her eyes made my heart skip a beat. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, I swallowed, nervousness and excitement swirling inside me. “Emily…” I look down to hide the grin forming on my face. 

“And I don't want to rush you. I know this isn't where you thought you'd be but Y/n I- I like you a lot. And I underst-” she continued, but before she could finish I reached up pressing my lips against hers. 

Emily froze for a split second before melting into the kiss, her hand coming up to gently cup my face. The world seemed to stop as we stood there, wrapped in each other, my heart pounding in a way I hadn’t felt in so long. It felt like all the tension and unspoken words from the past few months were pouring out between us in that single, tender moment.

When we finally broke apart, she kept her forehead pressed to mine, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t think I’d be this lucky tonight.” I let out a shaky laugh, feeling a surge of emotions that I’d tried to ignore for so long. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again… but here you are.”

Emily smiled, her thumb brushing over my cheek as she pulled me close. “One step at a time, okay? We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.” I nodded, a wave of relief washing over me. “Yeah. I’d like that. One step at a time.”

(Spencer’s Pov)

I stepped out of the bar and caught sight of Y/N and Emily up ahead, walking together under the dim glow of the streetlights, her hand held in Emily’s. My heart clenched. Not being with her has been eating away at me, more than I wanted to admit. She was right about everything—how I took her for granted, how I’d let myself fall for JJ, that I lost sight of what really mattered.

Seeing her now, laughing softly with Emily, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. I’d tried to convince myself that walking away was for the best, that it would be easier on both of us, but watching her find happiness without me made it all feel final. She deserves someone who would make her feel seen, who wouldn’t let her slip through their fingers. And maybe Emily could be that person in a way I never could.

As they turned the corner, I hesitated, realising I didn’t have a reason to go after her anymore, and it ripped my heart out. 

“2 years, and 75 days…”

[middle-ans]

I figured this would get asked for sure, but it hasn’t yet.

Major Lewis Nurse George please!!

Will you believe me when I say I feared this one, but also waited the most? Absolutely smashed me even though I have this particular idea sketched in my head from start to end, and zero chances surviving writing it. But it scratched the itch so perfectly, so thank you very much for asking! (3478 words, I knew it’d be one of the longest)

Also - tw war, tw mentions of blood and injuries, tw air raid alarms

October, 1940, Canterbury

Amidst all the human burdens, his personal sleep being absent for the third night in a row seemed ridiculous. George leaned his elbows on the desk piled with paperwork, rubbing his red eyes and sighing with fatigue. Another night shift, understaffed and they had exhausted the tea supply, waiting now for the next shipment by the end of next month, if they were so lucky. So far the wing had been uneventful, he sat at his post in the main hall, the hospital building looked like a separate battlefield with large rooms occupied by rows of beds and soldiers constantly arriving. No private wards for even a few people, they couldn't afford such a rarity.

The lamp on his desk blinked faintly before fading out entirely, and George held his breath, quickly shifting his clear gaze to the window. Quietly, even too much so, his lips fell open, moving soundlessly in an outline of counting - four, three, two, one. The hum of aircraft and the howl of the alarm siren was as always late, with the first deafening blast coming Omega was already under the table, shuddering with the entire building when a bomb was dropped a few dozen miles from the hospital. They remained almost untouched by most, a small building nearly at the edge of the city, but every so often George shrank into a ball and squirmed, wondering if this night would be an exception. He can hear the fiddling from the beds, triggered traumas screaming desperately in the throats of some of the soldiers, and as frightening as it is, Omega crawls out from under the only rickety shelter to run to their beds and offer a hand to squeeze, to claw at the faint connection to reality amidst the agony and quench the pain just a little. It's Private Peters, clutching at the bandage on his head that nurse notices will need to be changed as soon as the Luftwaffe are done with today's raid, and his old green eyes on a young twenty-year-old face one of the most striking displays of the madness they've been caught up in.

“Sh-h, it's okay Peters, you're in the hospital. I'll go over to the others for a bit and come back, alright? Don't look out the window, the flashes might annoy you.”

With a lingering warmth, George leaves him to run over to the other bunk, three further down the row from Peters, to Alan curled up in a ball and sobbing into the bend of his elbow.

“Now, now, no worries, I worked so hard to heal your arm and you ruined all the bandages by crumpling it under you.”

They must have thought he was resistant to such things, had developed an iron rod and shut off the heart, leaving only the head, but that was too far from the truth. George was trembling as much as they were, but having controlled his voice he was at least seemingly calmer, confidently promising them what was forbidden by any wartime ethic - safety.

“We've got warbirds coming in, lots of them,” Alex slipped past him in the aisle, darting off at a run. As the last German plane buzzed toward the sea, the bustle returned to the hospital in a triple storm of chaos. “They said to vacate as many bunks as we can.”

“From where?” George scolds as he tosses a stack of folders and fixes his coat. Perfectly white, not for long apparently.

“You think I asked questions? Hurry up, I need sheets, preferably clean ones.”

And Alex wasn't lying by labeling the number as 'lots', because not since George joined the volunteers in the nursing society in late 1939 had he seen such an overflow of wounded in the scroll of a single night. All types of injuries he couldn't look at when he started, rips, burns, shrapnel, on his first such tour of duty with a dozen wounded after midnight he'd cried helplessly on the hallway floor, far from being able to help anyone, least of all himself. Now he clenched his teeth, holding his jaw stiffly in tension as he waltzed from one bed to another in the barely lit hall, the power having gone out as soon as the raid began. With any luck, it would be fixed by tomorrow night. Omega's breathing was infrequent and short, letting in blood odors in snatches while his head spun steadily from the density of the air, but George dared not complain. If he was given a choice of which ability to shut off while he worked, it would be hearing. Those screams would haunt him until his last day.

The sheets oozed dirt in no time, they weren't a first class hotel to have their patients complain about the quality of the fabric and its immaculate whiteness, so pushing a cart with first aid supplies and a kerosene lamp, George got the trembling in his fingers under control and kept working. Far past midnight, close to the first rays of dawn, the whole room finally fell quiet, the silence diluted by occasional quiet moans from the occasional bunks at different ends of the room, and Omegas around drifting exhaustedly from one bed frame to the next.

George sighed, straightening his gown and lowering himself into a chair next to the nearest bunk, lamp burning weakly on the bedside table where he'd placed it, and his attention followed tiredly over the soaked bandages around the arms of a man sleeping in a restless slumber. The nurse reached out to see if the soldier's fever had broken purely automatically, running his fingers under the black hair falling over the forehead. His eyebrows twitched at the touch, and George almost thought it best to leave the man alone, but his head reached up to follow the escaping warmth of Omega's fingers. The nurse blinked, returning the uncomplicated dance of the pads back to those rare patches of skin that were free of scratches and wounds. Above on the top of his head was a wisp of hair clumped together from congealed blood, the wound itself washed and sanitized, but that was probably the source of fever plaguing Alpha in his sleep. Alpha, no doubt, his scent seeped even through the deadly odor of the ward. Their job teaches them to be immune to things like weak instincts and primitive pleasures, such as sniffing a handsome man and blushing at the sight of him staring back at them. George examines his hand on the grayish sheets, the bandage applied hastily and carelessly, but the man begins to frown and flinch in his sleep so he's forced to take his fingers into the warmth of his palm and coax them there until Alpha exhales relatively calmly. Omega blinks tiredly, mindlessly rubbing his skin where it won't hurt, and Alpha's scent only flows more intensely into George's fluttering nostrils, the tartness of walnut wood and freshly cut grass in May, crisply breezy, an anomaly in their lost reality. He flinches when fingers embrace his own in return, and gently breaks their contact to attend to the bandage on his arm.

There is little pleasantness in this, he imagines, frowning sympathetically at the painful groans in the hoarse voice still unknown to him, trying to spare him what pain he can, holding the soldier's wrist and shushing him quietly while he removes the dirty bandages. He sometimes sang, barely audible, just mumbling a soft tune and it smoothed the wrinkles on the patients' faces, distracting them from what he was busying his mind with. George had to leave his bed to grab a bowl of warm water and clean gauze, blotting it and wringing it out to apply gently to the man's elbow. He protested louder, twitching in the sheets, and Omega tried desperately to quiet the agony, pressing his palm against his cheek and mumbling confused reassurances. Alpha breathed raggedly, poking his nose into his palm, and it was the only thing that allowed nurse to finish with the bandage, bent in an awkward position over the bed in the low light, fighting the man's disgruntled sighs every time Omega was forced to withdraw his palm and pick up the bandages with both hands. Just as he was finishing up with the first rays of dawn and the kerosene lamps burning out on leftover fuel, the soldier squinted his nose, fluttering eyelashes persistently and restlessly. George wasn't sure he'd be awake this early, and it could hardly be called consciousness - Alpha looked at him with a blurry stare, unaware of anything but what for some reason made the corners of his lips creep up his haggard face.

“Angel,” he wheezed, staring at George. “You're an angel.”

Omega sighed, they were all like that. Saw him in semi-conscious hot flashes and came back to fight it further in deep sleep, then sang odes to him of their love and gratitude until they were discharged, healthy and ready to return to the battlefield. He glanced at the uniform jacket hanging on the edge of the top headboard of the bed, a patch with a blood type and a rank stained with dirt that he couldn't make out, but George discerned the name - L. C. D. Hamilton.

“Sleep,” he whispers to him, adjusting the sheets over his undershirt, the cotton fabric in scarlet stains and three tiny buttons under his collarbones. “The fever should break by dinner.”

When Omega gets to the room on the second floor of the house he's rented by an old lady who sings in the church choir and occasionally helps out at the radio factory, his strength is enough to take a quick shower with the remnants of hot water and collapse onto the creaking bed in a dreamless sleep. He hears the rumble of sirens and can't make out if it's a scrap of his imagination or actually an alarm, but doesn't care either way, rolling over onto his other side and getting the last hour of sleep before it's time to get up and get ready for the next shift.

“Almost everyone's stabilized,” Alex jumps up from the chair at his post in the hallway as soon as he sees him pacing exhaustedly through the ward. “We're still short on blood, almost all the staff donated some more today, but I'm not going to ask you, you already look one step away from dropping dead in here. And we're short on nurses, so-”

“You're so encouraging, Alex,” Omega rolls his eyes, wrapping himself in a white coat from the closet of their small storage room, straightening the lapels and tying his belt. “Did they fix the power?”

“Yeah, but in an hour it'll be time to turn out the lights anyway - light cloaking and all that. Speaking of your looks - it still managed to catch someone's interest even in such a deplorable state. One soldier-”

“Oh, Alex,” George sighs tiredly, checking the previous shift's records. Not again.

“Called for you all the time in his sleep.”

“How do you even know it was me?”

“Angel,” Alex shrugs. “You're always Angel, darling, and he mumbled incessantly. Almost knocked poor Logan's eye out when he came over to change his bandages.”

George shakes his head stubbornly, but can't help but drift his thoughts to the man. Apparently the fourth night shift is working wonders on his guard.

“How is he?” the nurse asks quietly. “Has the fever gone down?”

“Go and check, it's your shift now, not mine,” Alex pushes him further down the row of bunks before rushing out towards the exit and waving goodbye.

George keeps his face emotionless as he walks through all the patients in the room, because there are no special ones, there are all of them, needing if not a bandage or injection, then at least a drop of sympathy in the middle of this pantomime theater. In the semi-darkness of the room, he doesn't notice when he walks over to the bed with a jacket on the headboard, sets down the lamp, and hops in place as his hand is grabbed, tugged insistently, something he's not quite used to in the emergency room.

“Oh for heaven's sake,” he breathes out, closing his eyes for a second to catch his breath. “Sir, you can't just-”

“Angel,” a glance, this time absolutely clear and unequivocal, lingered on him with sheer fondness and a glare of amusement, the man pulling himself up higher on the pillow. “So you weren't a vision? I thought I'd gone to heaven, since I saw you.”

George swallows, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and starting to unwind the bandages on the man's arm, slowly, and this time Alpha holds up much better, no gnashing of teeth or groans.

“Have you had the wound treated? With ointment, or just peroxide?” he asks as casually as possible while he feels the gaze of dark eyes solely on the side of his face turned toward the soldier.

“I think with ointment, too. Not as carefully as you did, of course.”

The nurse snorts, hiding a smile and blush behind the curls that have fallen over his forehead.

“You were barely here last night, with a fever and delusions. How can you remember what I did it?”

“I remember you singing,” Mr. Hamilton says, plainly and calmly, a confidence in his voice that is lacking in those brash flirtations of the younger soldiers. And they're probably a lot lower in rank than Alpha. “And if I may?”

George looks up cautiously, averting his gaze from the wound when the man takes his hand and opens his palm, pressing it against his own cheek. The tendons in Omega's neck tighten in tension, he feels a small tremor in his fingers where they are gripped between the soldier's light grasp and his cheek.

“Yes, I definitely remember that,” the man smiles, loosening his grip so George can bring his hand back to the bandages. Lost for words and lost for breath.

“Good thing you remember so much,” he flutters his eyelashes, finishing the knot on his forearm. “Strong. Means you'll be better soon.”

“Will you sit with me?” Alpha lets out brokenly, a second before the nurse would have gotten up and headed for the next bed. George opens his mouth to say he still has a lot of work to do, but the soldier grazes his fingers on the sheets with a sore hand, shivering against the warmth. “Please.”

Omega glances around the rest of the room - it's night, dark, and most are asleep, a few nurses walking past the beds to adjust pillows and bandaged limbs. He didn't really have any real reason to refuse, and hesitantly he agrees, moving to a chair to retain some modicum of willpower.

They talk until morning. Extremely negligent of George, he should've left the soldier to sleep, gone to the paperwork that littered the desk at the duty station, done something, but they just kept talking, hiding from the prying eyes of the other staff in the shadows of the dimmed lamp. George said that he had been orphaned in the first month of war after the raid on his home town, he didn't mention what it was exactly, and his sister had been able to catch the last ship to America, which he was incredibly glad about, but he was all alone and so had decided to devote himself to working at the hospital. Lewis had been in the army before the war, something to do with his father's silly insistence, and had had several successful sorties behind enemy lines in France, his careful choice of words and thoughtful narration suggesting a rank with a few badges on his epaulettes and men in his command. He was skilled at playing the piano and baking homemade bread with recipes from his mother's family. George giggled as the man described the intricacies of mixing dough, certain he'd never heard Alpha talk about cooking before. When with the peachy rays of the quiet dawn outside the window, no Luftwaffe raid this time, he yawned in the midst of his own mumblings, Omega glanced down and found Lewis sleeping peacefully, head bowed on the pillow a little uncomfortably, and mouth slightly open in quiet breathing. George leaned over, holding his neck under the bandage and correcting the dislodged fluff in the pillow, gently bringing Alpha's head back, smoothing the hair on the back of his neck.

He's discharged before George returns to the hospital the next time, fresh from a day off and having slept one normal night in what seems like months. He only nods to Alex, trying to smile as he did before, and goes on his evening rounds without long chats in the back room.

After about a week since he last saw Lewis, he finally gets the day shift. George is settling in at a table in the common room, filling out paperwork and reports as accurately as can be observed in wartime when the sunlight from the window is blocked by someone's shadow and he pulls away from files, frowning at the intrusion.

“Good afternoon, Nurse George,” a smile, almost devoid of the mesh of scratches on his face around, shines brightly to him from above, Lewis standing in the full glory of his uniform and with a cap on his head. “I was told I might find you here today, even during daylight hours.”

His hands are placed sternly behind his back, Alpha stands as steady as a ruler in the army-like poise of his posture, and George opens his mouth silently, unable to find anything to say.

“Lewis, it's good to see you're well,” he gulps, rising from a seat so as not to feel so tiny under the shoulder span of the army jacket.

“That's why I came, to thank you properly,” Alpha winds one of his hands behind his back forward, clutching the stems of a bouquet of wildflowers and holding it out for George. “I didn't know which ones you liked, figured we could start with these.”

Oh, in front of everyone, the wing will be buzzing about this forever. Omega hears the commotion and giggles behind the man's back, blushing awkwardly under his scrutiny, but Alpha takes a step closer, blocking his view of the fiddling behind. Having no idea what else he could have done, George takes the bouquet into his hands, briefly meeting the stroke of Lewis' warm fingers' touch and lowering his eyelids immediately in humble awe.

“Thank you, that's quite unnecessary. It's my job, after all. No one gives you flowers for your service, for instance.”

Alpha smiles, tilting his head to pick up the visor of his cap and pull it off, revealing black hair styled back. Out of habit, George studies the spot where the wound was with a quick glance - it all looks healed and barely bothers the man.

“I think it's very much necessary. Might ward off some of the pushy admirers? Peters, you're expected at the barracks as early as tomorrow, so don't think about taking up residence here for long,” it's a misterie how his voice jumps from softness and reserved ease to iron command, Alpha turning around for a moment to glance at the subordinate in the row of bunks. “Are you enjoying music, George?”

“Music?” Omega blinks confusedly, shaking his head in a lack of comprehension.

“The pub near City Hall is having a dance this weekend. If it doesn't interfere with work, I'd like to say I'd be happy to see you there. The wine at Bert's isn't the most exquisite, but I'll make sure a case from our stock is delivered.”

Pulse racing ahead of his heart's capabilities, George swallows thickly, not knowing where to find the answer.

“He's free this weekend,” Logan rounds on his figure, hurrying from the entrance to his turn to make rounds. “I'm on duty Friday, have you forgotten?”

No, he'd absolutely seen the schedule, and this Friday was George's, but Logan winks at him and disappears into the pile of huddled white coats, hurrying them back to work.

“Well, then,” Lewis cleared his throat, viewing him like a tangled mechanism of an armored car gears. “I'll see you there, I suppose?”

The man nods at him with his chin knowing exactly the angle and duration in which it should linger, leaving George and allowing him to finally fall back into his chair, exhaling heavily.

“A whole Major, Georgie!” Alex slams a palm on the table, scaring the hell out of him. “Bringing you flowers and claiming his rights in front of this bunch of silly young Alphas, huh? Oh, I'll lend you my tweed pants for Friday and you will undo two buttons of your shirt, you hear me?”

[adventuringblind]

With Me Forever [Remastered]

Reader/Lando/Max/Charles/Oscar/Logan AND Reader/Original Female Character (For like... four chapters until everyone figures their shit out) Sebastian/Lewis

Summary: Dove knows only what she's been shown: a world in which she follows instructions and pretends she doesn't long for something more. Finally, she ventures out into the world and sparks a chain reaction which flips her entire life upside down. If superpowers people want to use and the boys who drive cars weren't enough, turns out there is more to her family that meets the eys.

The adventure of a lifetime in which Dove learns how to live for herself, the heartbreak and happiness that comes with loving others, and the letting go of the guilt that's been weighing her down.

[Reader goes by Dove but has no description aside from that]

WARNING FOR THE ENTIRE SERIES: Underage Sex (both consensual and not consensual, NOT BETWEEN READER AND DRIVERS), Mentioned past abuse (sexual, child neglect, child abandonment, physicaly, mental, verbal), medical malpractice & medical inaccuracies, Violence and gore, stalking, cults and witches (Reader is a witch with super cool powers tho-), Kidnapping at some point, some pretty hefty age gaps

Authors Note: Yes I moved this to Tumblr as well as Ao3 because most X readers are over here and I want those who enjoyed the original series to be able to read it again. Hopefully it's enjoyed again now that my writing has improved and I actually have a plot :))

Also like the last one this is a bit of a VERY slow burn at the begining as we walk through Dove's early years but like... Sebastian and Lewis are parents SO-

Series Masterlist

Chapter One

There is this stigma that comes with the month of October. All the weird and creepy things happen sometime within those thirty-one days and those born and left to wonder if there was something supernatural surrounding them when they came into this world. 

She knows her birth wasn’t right. Really, nothing about her life feels correct. Like the world is spinning off its axis and hasn’t corrected itself since that windy October night in 2001. The day she was born and everything went to shit. 

Thirteen feels far too momentous to not celebrate. Especially given that she wasn’t supposed to survive her own birth. She’s a walking miracle! A cooped up, caged, somehow magical, miracle. One that is now desperate to get out of its cage. 

She’s not stupid–she knows there is more out there and not all of it can be as bad as she’s been told. Even if it’s her own crazy brain talking, she can’t live the rest of her pathetic life not knowing if civilization is wretched like the men she lives with make it out to be. 

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back… or something like that. 

The crisp early October breeze flits against her skin. The fallen leaves and twigs snap against her weight as she walks to the edge of the property. She’s done this a lot when her dad gets too drunk to pay attention to her. 

The edge of the property line comes into view. The dark gravel road meets that of old gray pavement and the lone street light barely illuminating the edge. 

She puts her toes right at the edge, breaths in, then puts one foot over. The other follows and it becomes a pattern until she’s crossed the street all the way. The line between everything she knows and the adventure of what could be out there awaiting her. 

~~~~~

It feels like she’s walking for hours until there is any sign of other people. A gas station in the middle of nowhere and two cars outside of it. One of them a rundown pick-up truck and the other clearly stating police in bold letters on the side. 

Her stomach twists into knots. Authorities of any kind are not something her father believes in and has run them off the property since she can remember. 

On the other hand, she is clearly lost and someone here might be able to help get her back on track. She heaves in a breath and pushes open the door to the little store. 

A taller man standing at the counter, obviously the officer if the gun on his hip is any indicator, and the younger man behind the counter stop their conversation to stare at her. They look at her with pity and It makes her skin crawl. 

Her vocal chords seem to escape her. She breathes in through her nose, stares at the floor, and- “I’m fucking lost.” 

There is silence for about ten long seconds. The kind that has her anxiously waiting for any kind of response. 

Maybe she should’ve expected laughter. It’s not like she has a lot of experience with conversations- only the drunken men her dad keeps around. 

The officer has something of a southern drawl, thick and hard to understand. “Shall I bring ya’ home, then?” 

On the verge of tears now, she hardly is able to nod her head. It's weird wanting to go home–but what else is she supposed to do? Wander around in the dark for hours on end? 

The officer opens the passenger side door for her and helps her climb inside. The rumble of the car is relaxing in a way. Almost like her dads pick-up truck when they would drive to the property line to collect and haul things back to the warehouse. 

He plays soft music as she wordlessly directs him back to her home. His face seems to become more skeptical with each turn they take. Up until they are turning down the dark gravel driveway- then it shifts to horror. 

“You live here?” He stops the car right in front of the rusty metal sliding door. 

She wordlessly nods her head and jumps out of the passenger seat. The officer's eyes watch as she scales the side of the building back to her bedroom window. 

She watches him as he gets out of the car, walks up to the door, and knocks. 

~~~~~

There are flashing lights outside of the building; red and blue illuminating the walls  of her almost empty room. 

They storm the building with guns drawn. They shout words that are muffled to her tired ears. It’s been three days since she ran. All those days spent locked in a room–with a now barred window. She’s starving and dehydrated, ready for the looming threat of death to consume her. 

Then there is a woman dressed in black gear, bulky in different places and a weapon holstered to her hip. 

She’s being carried through the noise, to the lights, into the safety of somewhere that isn’t her room. 

~~~~~

The doctors don’t seem to understand her. They ask her questions about her body, about her home, and why she won’t talk to them. 

She wishes they would leave her the hell alone and let her sleep. She’s not slept for ages–the nightmares are unrelenting. 

There is a man in her room now, not a doctor; he says he’s a social worker. They have to find her somewhere to stay now that she’s not on the brink of death. He’s gentle and speaks softly, like he’s trying not to startle her. 

He looks at her, holding out a pen and notebook. “Can you write at all?” he asks. His voice is deep, but not raspy with smoke like her fathers. 

She nods her head and takes the pen and paper. Then begins the onslaught of questions about herself. A lot of general information about her name, address, and birthday. Then more about her life; which she either struggles to, or downright refuses, to answer. 

She ends up with this guy she vaguely remembers from the warehouse because he said he knows her and wants to help. Ben, the social worker by day and investigator by night, seems skeptical but is left with no other choice besides handing her a cell phone and his personal phone number. “Call me if you need anything, okay?” he says before leaving her with a practical stranger. 

~~~~~

She realizes about three days into staying with Jacob, her dads friend, that she doesn’t want to be here. Actually, it feels worse because it’s different-bad instead of normal-bad. 

Jacob slams the doors of the one bedroom apartment and drinks until the early hours of the morning. It’s a bit strange since she knows he has money–is it all going to other things, maybe? 

Regardless, she has access to the internet now. Which in some ways is beneficial, where others it’s overwhelming and seeing her face in the news is not at all fun. It makes her skin crawl with anxiety now that people can see her without her knowing them. 

Lucky for her, the timing of everything has worked out and formula 1 is coming to Texas within the next week. Her dad, as bitchy as he is, happens to be obnoxiously intelligent and worked on projects with one of the teams. 

She’s not sure which one exactly, only that the guy's name is Christian Horner and he’s rich. On the slim chance he remembers her, she might be able to spend time away from these houses that feel like cages. 

~~~~~

The morning before she leaves, Jacob is in a mood. It’s different compared to when she first got there, like he has a personal vendetta against her. 

She tries to scramble away, limbs flailing about as she kicks and screams. A hand closes around her airway and another is holding her wrist close to his mouth. The position is vulnerable; she feels the anxiety trying to rise in her throat and is unable to do so. 

His teeth sink into her skin, ripping it open with blunt points and jagged edges. His tongue laps at the wound with unrestrained vigor–greedily trying to get all he can from it. 

Something flashes through her. The familiar white hot energy of those abilities that do nothing but lay dormant until forced out. A tiny voice in the back of her mind screams at her to make him stop; that he’s stealing something valuable from her even if she has no idea what it is. You know… apart from the obvious- 

With renewed fear and adrenaline, she manages to kick him away. He seems dazed, like he’d done a line of whatever they had in the warehouse. She hadn’t been allowed to touch the stuff since her dad is picky about what goes into her body. 

She makes for the door, fight or flight giving her everything she needs to get out before he does it again. Terror flooding her system and dripping out of every pore. 

At the same time, he’s running after her, screaming incoherently in her direction. He’s panting heavy enough that she can hear it even as her hand lands on the doorknob and the door creaks open. 

The red rim around his mouth is wet with saliva. She turns back around, just in time to see the wet muscle of his tongue lick the excess blood from his lips. “Don’t run away from me, little bird. You know you belong with us.” 

She runs out the door and slams it behind her. The steps come at her rapidly, The world passes by in a blur, weaving its way around her in a colorful haze as she runs out of the building.

The Texas sun blinds her–her hand coming to shield her eyes. Her feet, however, don’t stop pounding the ground. Despite her exhaustion, the lack of nutrients, and ragged breathing–she continues forward. 

~~~~~

The curb beside the paddock entrance becomes her new home. The sun is still coming up when she finds it, tired and dirty. She feels out of place as the sun rises and people come in dressed to the nines in expensive looking clothes. 

Her vision is swaying, but the determination is keeping her upright and alert. If she can just find the one man that knows her, maybe he can help. Having to live with someone who bites her when she’s awake sounds much worse then merely knowing they do it when she’s asleep. 

The faint outline of teeth marks dot areas of her body and lines drawn with tools cover the rest. Vague memories of people touching her and the searing pain of something she doesn’t know the source of force their way into her mind the more she thinks about it. 

It’s not long until her head hits the concrete and the world fades away. 

~~~~~

Christian wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he found out the mechanic he’d sourced got arrested. Worse–the daughter who had watched him from behind the legs of her father and named the parts of engines at an age far too young has taken up room in his mind. 

There was something off. Whether it be how he was never allowed at the warehouse or had to watch this girl, Dove as she was called, became progressively more sickly. 

He didn’t live in America, nor did he have all the information, but he had this gut feeling that something about the situation wasn’t right. 

The curiosity got the better of him and he’d called to see if anyone had taken the girl in, but got nothing in response. He wasn’t allowed to have the information–which was reasonable to an extent. 

Now, as he scans the outside of the paddock while making his way inside, he catches a glimpse of the familiar figure. It had been a while–but he would know her anywhere. There is a uniqueness to her that can’t be described apart from having to see it to understand. 

He steps light as he approaches her, passed out on the ground and being passed by like it’s nothing. Christian shakes her awake, watches her startle and sit up, fear clouding her eyes as she scrambles away from him. 

“What are you doing out here, Dove?” His concern seems to peak when he notices the clear bite mark she has and the clear, flaccid exhaustion behind her eyes and in her face. It’s pitiful to look at. 

Her mouth parts, tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Mr. Horner? I came to see you?” 

“Yeah? Let's get you inside then.” 

He has to take the time to bundle her into his arms and carry her through the paddock. He gets a few weird looks as he walks through the paddock with a teenager in his arms and pretends that everything is fine. All smiles and nods while the cameras avert themselves because the media here knows who she is. That has to be what hurts the worst-

He lays her on the couch in his office, picks up his phone, and starts making calls. 

~~~~~

If anyone would’ve asked him this morning if he was willing to take in a child, Seb would have been wishy-washy about it. He’s on his own, traveling the world and being paid to participate in a dangerous sport. He doesn’t have the time to raise a child-

Now, as he stares at the barley awake teen in Christians office, he can’t help but consider it. Something about the innocence makes him want to swaddle her until he’s old and wrinkly.

“We call her Dove, but I'm not sure that’s her name.” Christian is writing numbers down on a notepad and sticking them to his desk. “You’re sure about this?” 

He takes another look at the girl, stipping on one of the driver's water bottles with the insane bendy straws. She looks small, breakable, like one of those porcelain dolls his mother collected. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for it, but as I owe you a favor… don’t I?” 

“This isn’t just a favor, Seb. This is a commitment and a promise to her.” Christian walks over to her softly, pulling her from the dissociative state she was in while chewing on the plastic straw. “Dove, this is Seb; and we were wondering if there is someone taking care of you right now?” 

She nods her head yes. It’s faint, almost hesitant, each one of her movements clearly calculated as her eyes flicker around the environment. 

Seb lets himself relax. He knows he’s nervous, and she must sense it as well if her body language towards him is anything to go by. He kneels down in front of her and smiles, a soft and gentle thing that has her head tilting in curiosity. 

“My name is Sebastian, but everyone calls me Seb….” She stares at him, so he clears his throat and continues on. “Me and Christian have been thinking that the person taking care of you might now be doing the best job, is this true?”

Her lips part, slowly, as if trying to say something but unable to get the words out. Instead she points to the newer bite mark on her wrist, a circular outline of red dots. She seems unfazed by it in a way, only annoyed that such a thing happened. 

Seb makes eye contact with Christian, attempting to get an answer of some kind but is met with confusion that mirrors his own. 

~~~~~

 The paddock is overwhelming, the amount of people is more than she is used to. If the amount of men in the warehouse was bad at times, it doesn’t even begin to compare to the crowds that she has to weave through with Christian and Seb. 

They take turns looking after her for the day. They let her grip onto their arms as they drag her to different areas and attempt to keep her away from cameras. 

She’s with both of them when the inevitable happens. The heavy panting footsteps of Jacob settles in her ears–senses able to focus on nothing but the sheer need to get away. 

Only, her body does nothing about it. She’s frozen, unable to move as her two protectors are pulled further away by the crowd and Jacob comes closer. 

His hand closes around her bicep, grip tight like a vice. “Nice try, but you’re not as smart as you think you are.” 

She has half a mind to scream, but settles for spitting in his eyes just to piss him off. “You’re one to talk.” It’s the first time she’s spoken in weeks and it comes out raspy and broken. It gets a laugh from the older man.

He growls in anger and begins to pull her in the direction of the paddock gate. “You and your stupid nickname! Dove– I beg to differ, more like a crow with all the bad luck you bring!”  

She tries to fight him off, pulling in the opposite direction. It’s no use and she resorts to throwing her body at the ground until she has scrapes and burns. 

“Let her go!” is yelled from somewhere behind her. It doesn’t stop Jacob, but seems to spur him on to go faster. “I said let her go!”  

She’s yanked upwards and away from Jacob by Sebastian. He hauls her uncooperative body a good three steps away before turning to face off with her almost kidnapper. 

“I’m her guardian, so I suggest you let me bring her home. Little thing ran away a couple days ago.” The smile he puts on doesn’t look anything close to genuine. 

“And I have money and a good legal team… your point?” 

There is a crowd gathering around her now and the anxiety is starting to settle in her gut. She knows she can run back to where her stuff is and make a phone call to detective Ben–but would he answer? It’s worth a shot, she supposes. 

She ducks into the crowd and doubles back towards Christian’s office. She’s grateful the door is unlocked and her stuff is exactly where she left it. The pay phone easily finding its way into her hands. 

She dials the detectives number and listens to it ring… once…twice…three ti- “Detective Ben-”

“It’s me! I need help!” 

Ben walks her through a couple of breathing techniques before calmly asking her to start from the beginning. 

~~~~~

She’s still hiding in Christian’s office when a horde of people storm through the doors. Four of them she recognizes: Christian, Sebastian, Detective Ben, and Jacob. The rest are all official looking people in nice dress clothes and shiny shoes. 

Her body shakes, fingernails subconsciously digging into the palm of her hand. Ben looks her over, making his way over and getting on her level. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you with him.” He sighs, eyes scanning over the bickering adults in the room. “Sebastian has offered to put in for adoption, but we’ll have to jump through some hoops.” 

She nods her head, not fully understanding, but enough that she knows Jacob won’t be taking her back to his apartment. It’s all that matters to her at this moment. The warehouse was bad, but at least it was predictable and she had her own space. 

~~~~~

Seb takes her to his hotel room. It’s not the biggest thing, but he’ll take the couch until they figure something else out. She doesn’t seem like the pickiest person, probably would even take the floor if that’s what she was given. 

He calls up room service for two. His meal admittedly looks more sad than hers, but she looks far less excited about eating. She pokes at it with a fork, looks at him, then pokes at it again. 

“You can eat it… unless you don’t like it-” He pauses to take in her narrowed eyes and slow movements. The fork comes up to her mouth in a small bite. She chews and swallows faster than he’s ever seen, then watches her flinch away like she’s preparing to be hit. 

Seb shakes his head, his stomach twisting into knots. “You can eat freely now, okay? I will never hit you.”

Her eyebrows raise as if to suggest he is lying to her. He makes a dramatic show of sticking his pinky out towards her, gaze serious and hard to ignore. “I swear on everything I am, that I pinky promise to never hurt you.” 

She doesn’t turn away from him this time, but looks completely lost. Seb can’t help the small giggle that escapes him. “If you accept then you can link your pinky with mine. That seals the deal!” 

She moves towards him slowly, like he might pull away and say this is all some cruel joke. She links her pink with his, and the edges of her lips twitch upwards. 

[qin-qin16]

obligatory dustyscarf request sorry

[DustyScarf, mermaid!Geno, butcher!Dust, horror, angst, thoughts about suicide, cannibalism mentioned, mermaid sushi??]

note: first piece of horror for october! Happy october guys :D

Geno no longer felt his gills; they lay numb beneath the cold water. Perhaps, if his body kept sinking in the bathtub, they would even start to rot — but there was no way to tell, especially since Geno refused to look under the blocks of ice that meticulously encased him, waiting for the end he so desperately desired.

The tips of his phalanges had lost all feeling, just like the end of his long red tail — what had once been shiny fins were now reduced to retracted, lifeless tissue, losing the beautiful luster they once possessed. 

His vertebrae shook, fragile against the icy air of the room — even the simplest tasks felt like an immense effort. Surviving had turned into a burdensome struggle, and Geno felt drawn to forsake it.

The door — possibly the only spot not covered in white, marked by a dry crimson stain — creaked open slowly, producing a drawn-out groan that sent a slight shiver through Geno's skull. 

A figure emerged in the doorway, and Geno’s blurred gaze quickly dropped to the grotesque apron it wore: splattered with a dried red substance, clinging to the old, faded fabric that had decayed from use.

"Why the sad face?" Dust's voice is low and raspy, as if he hasn't spoken in ages. 

Even though Geno sometimes hears him murmuring to the walls, laughing with them about his suffering. 

Approaching the bathtub, Dust crouches down beside it, directing his two red dots toward Geno’s face before resting both elbows on the edge — fresh blood trickling from his arms into the water, tainting the mermaid’s false sanctuary.

Ignoring the lack of response — perhaps used to Geno’s silence — Dust returns to speak, "You know, I’ve been wondering: should I freeze you and wait for the perfect moment to serve your tail on a plate, or should I display you in a lovely aquarium at home?" He purrs, appearing fascinated by both ideas. 

Even though a shiver ran down Geno's spine, his expression stayed cold. The small white dot, faint and nearly blending into the void of his eye socket, remained focused on Dust, captivated by his one bicolored eye — perhaps, in a way, startled by the blend of blue in the red sea of the other’s gaze.

Dust resumes murmuring to himself, dipping one hand into the bathtub — the blood gradually spreading through the water, staining even the ice cubes. 

A rough laugh escapes him, rasping against his vertebrae. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of this sooner? I’m so fortunate to have such a helpful brother!” His voice carries an almost ironic tone, if not for the manic smile that creeps across his face, reaching his eyes, which are so enchanted on Geno. “Why not both?”

Dust lifts his hand, which had just been in the bathtub moments before, to Geno's indifferent face, smearing it not only with blood but also with a playful, mocking tenderness.

He emits a soft purr at the sight of Geno — his so silent, frozen Geno — flinching at his touch. 

“I’ll bring you home, and when I get tired of your sick state, I will prepare a grand feast with your flesh; maybe I’ll even hang your bones on the wall as a beautiful memorial of your existence.” He promises, and Geno can't help but wish he had chosen to devour him instead, putting an end to his extended and eternal suffering.

[skyfallscotland]

A year ago today, I posted the first chapter on AO3 of a story called Fury.

A few months before that, I'd picked up A Court of Thorns & Roses. It was the first original work I'd read in years and when I finished Silver Flames a week later, I turned back to AO3, desperate to read more about these characters I'd fallen in love with. I couldn't find what I wanted. Feysand fic was all well and good, but there wasn't much of that, and Azriel didn't appeal to me, which ruled out...well, most of the archive.

Original character fic gets a bad rap and that's mostly because OC fic can often be an author's first foray into fandom and writing in general, making the quality hit and miss, but that's what I really wanted in the end—I wanted to read about other characters in this world and I wanted to flesh out the world itself. I had questions about Windhaven, about siphons and magic and all the things that had been mentioned and glossed over. I couldn't find fic that answered those questions. So I wrote one.

I'd written before, basically my whole life, but never finished anything. This time though, it was like something clicked in my brain. I wasn't back on Tumblr yet and I had no one to talk to about it, but I wrote and wrote and wrote. I'd been writing for months, in secret, not telling a single soul. I'd completely written both Fury and Siren, the second in the series, before ever posting a word of it.

I almost didn't write it, really. Almost didn't post it. I figured no one was going to read it with the way people look down on original character fic. But I felt compelled to write their stories, so I did—night after night. I actually think they might be the best stories I've ever written. The statistics don't reflect that, but I didn't have a storyline to follow, a framework to back me up, like I did later with Remi's Version, just a world and some characters and I'm very proud of them.

Remi's Version came after. I'd started writing it by September, but didn't start posting it until late October (that anniversary is next week) and I almost didn't write that either, because I thought maybe it was too much, too self-indulgent, too unbalanced. It's funny to think now, that I almost never wrote her at all.

I don't know why I'm writing this essay. Maybe just because it feels...some kind of way, you know? It's been a year, but that year felt like a decade, and it's been hard. Picking up ACOTAR was an act of self-preservation when I was at my lowest and Fury and Siren and everything that came after pulled me from somewhere I never want to be again.

It's been a year. My word count on AO3 is now 1,088,097. (That's like, twelve novels!). I've published 11 works. I've written a lot, I've laughed and cried and made friends with so many of you. I'm alive.

I guess I just wanted to say thanks, and to mark the milestone somehow because it feels like I've lived ten lives since October 17th, and in all of them, this was the high point. Happy Birthday, Tessa 🖤