#i linked her bio in that first sentence

[babyitsmagic]

what a fuckin' thing to say. and how irritating that it doesn't make clover any less attractive. she'd wonder what the fuck is wrong with her if it didn't run in the family. "i love you, too. but stabbing is a shit way to solve an argument."

@babyitsmagic

“Sorry that I stabbed you. I love you, actually.”

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

IM UNSHADOWBANNWD AH. I’ve been so excited to post this story it’s been in the works and it’s the THREE HUNDRED follower special first of all i do not deserve you guys at all thank you for all the support you show me i hope you enjoy this as much as i did hehe MUAH

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

afab reader x Pornstar! ID Leon

Warnings: Smut- just pure porn with a plot. PORNSTAR LUIS TOO HEHE.Slight (very) slight mentions of being obsessed/ watching reader, leon eats pussy (ofc he does) and fucks reader stupid.

Word count: 3,169

———-

knock knock

“What?”

Why did he sound so annoyed? Your fist stalled against the door as you paused your knocking.

“Um- Greg told me to introduce myself. Sorry if you’re busy.”

Just try and sound sweet, don’t be a pushover. You had barely just stepped onto the set, still in the clothes you wore to your psychology class. The room ran silent, your eyes reading over his name on his door continuously before it swung up, your hair moving from the gust of wind.

His arms were so toned, his hand gripping the handle of the door knob as he leaned against the door frame. Incredibly toned, his shirt off and his hair laying against his face so perfectly. His steely eyes scanned you up and down, a chuckle rumbling through his chest as he saw you holding your Psych 200 book.

“Leon.”

He mumbled as he watched you scan over his arms. He was cocky; you could tell. Before you could even introduce yourself, the door slammed in your face, your hands gripping your bag as you sighed to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief.

———

“She shot with Sera like a month ago. The video is still up on the front page too.”

Leon’s makeup artist spoke as she rubbed the beauty blender against his forehead. Leon stared at himself in the mirror; he felt terrible for slamming the door in your face. He really did. He has been in the industry for too long, and he has never had anyone come and formally introduce themselves before filming, so seeing you stand there not being able to say a complete sentence to his face just irritated him. He was also just surprised you didn’t know him; he owned this whole set, his manager is the one who makes his booking, or he definitely wouldn’t have picked you of all people.

———

After shooting with Luis, the two of you became very close friends; when you got to your small studio room, you threw your bag and book down, dialing his number on your phone as you pulled your laptop out, sitting on the desk.

“Hello?”

Luis' voice rang through your ear as you sighed in frustration, instantly communicating that something was wrong.

“He slammed a door in my face when I tried to say hi to him, Luis.. why does he have such a big ego? Sure is heavy for a man I've never even seen before.”

Your fingers typed his name into the search bar, clicking on the first link to come up as you listened to Luis ramble about how this is just how it’s going to be and how lucky you were to get him as your first shoot, your mouth ran dry seeing the cover photo of one of Leon’s hundreds of videos, his cock barely pushing into some girl, his hair covering his face so perfectly and his lips parted so slightly.

“Mama, what did I tell you? Do not google.”

Luis scolded as he listened to you close the laptop.

“I don’t know, Luis, maybe I should just leave- I have to go; makeup’s here.”

Hanging up on him because of the slight knock on the door. It must have been noticeable that you were in your head, the pretty makeup artist wiping at your cheeks with a light bronzer to grab your attention.

“You don’t need much makeup, and you’re naturally very beautiful.”

She smiles softly as she reaches for the mascara. You smile back at her as she tilts your head around.

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you.”

You laugh as she turns your chair around, smiling as she pushes your hair from your face.

“Gorgeous, they want you in this. Whatever you wear under is completely up to you.”

The beautiful woman rambled as she pulled the light blue sundress from the bag, handing it to you. No matter what they said to you, you couldn’t get out of your own head.

————

The wall had a weird pattern. It wasn’t like standard white paint but was super grainy, you sat further back, watching as the director checked all of his cameras, fixing the lights, and reading over signed paperwork. They never handed you a script, though, which left you lost. Luis’ crew had a script. It was easy to remember, but maybe only Leon had one. Right when you think about him, he comes walking in from the main door, a smug smile on his face as he grabs hands to shake. If he weren’t in the industry he would make a wonderful bodyguard with broad shoulders, strong arms, and confidence. He wore a black long-sleeve shirt accompanied by a pair of dark denim jeans. It sucked; he was such an asshole, he was handsome. It suddenly made you feel so self-conscious, remembering the cover photo you had seen on your laptop. You specifically specialized in actual content, genuine emotions, and honest reactions, and the people love it. You started on your own, only fans, to be specific, and it makes you laugh out of embarrassment when it’s brought up. Your eyes follow Leon as he grabs a cup of water, leaning on the table as he talks to the makeup artist, who, for some reason, points over to you. Your eyes drop to your lap, your legs crossed as you play with the soft material of the dress. Your heart began to race as you saw his shoes directly in front of you. His presence was so heavy. Your gaze shifted up to him, his hand touching the arm of your chair.

“Sorry for slamming the door on you, I’ve had a long week, and I forgot I was shooting today.”

Hearing him talk in a complete sentence now was weird, his voice rough yet deep. You nodded your head as you shrugged.

“I can’t blame you; I would slam the door on me too.”

You smile, but it quickly drops once you notice what he said; how could he forget he has a shot? He just called you easily forgettable. Leon’s eyes trailed down to your thighs, smiling to himself as your leg bounced up and down. The two of you stood in your silence before Greg walked over towards you two, grabbing your shoulders.

“Leon, Y/N, Y/N, Leon. I know this piece of work doesn’t introduce himself for shit.”

He laughed, pointing towards the bed in the middle of the room; Leon’s eyes squinted at the minor insult before both of your eyes shifted to the bed. He had explained some shitty plan that had the two of you bored. He sighed before he looked at Leon, touching his arm.

“Just do whatever you want. Why do you pay me?”

His foot turned to walk away from you two as Leon still stared at the bed in the middle of the room. He turned back to you, putting his hand out, your eyebrow-raising in confusion up at him.

“Leon Kennedy.”

Your hand pulled from your lap, shaking at his, both of your grip on each other strong as you nodded your head.

“Just call me Y/N.”

You spoke sheepishly before he helped you up from the chair. Was he going to listen to what the director said? This was an extensive movie set, the bedroom, and then the small room apart from the bedroom that seemed to resemble a hallway.

“I know we stepped off on the wrong foot, but can you trust me? Just for the next hour?”

Leon leaned down to your ear as the two of you walked towards the hallway set. You nodded your head as the lighting changed to a darker yellow.

Leon’s head turned towards the camera as he put his hand up

“No cuts.”

He yelled out as he turned back to you.

—————-

Felt awful slamming the door on her pretty face.

Leon’s grip on the door handle grew tighter by the second as you rambled on about trying to introduce yourself. The room shook as he slammed the door, a strained groan leaving his lips as he looked down at his sweatpants. You had knocked at a horrible time, Leon’s laptop on display with your video with Luis flashing on his screen. He was obsessed with you. Obsessed with how your lips parted before you moaned or how easily sensitive you were. You didn’t need to introduce yourself. He already knew. So when he called his agent asking him to call your agent to see if you were booking, he was more than excited when they said you were open. He pumped himself for almost an hour, soft moans leaving his lips as his eyes squeezed shut, trying to think about how it would feel to have you squeezing around his cock.

———

“Action!”

Greg screamed, your eyelids heavy as you looked up at Leon. It was crazy how fast you could switch moods like that. Leon's hands were immediately all over you, pressing you into the wall by your waist as he hungrily peppered kisses against your jaw. And suddenly everything felt so much hotter? His hands dragged down your skin, and his lips burned into the soft skin of your neck, a whine leaving your lips as one of Leon’s hungry hands brought your leg to his waist.

“There you go, honey, relax for me..”

He mumbled into your skin as his hands lifted you into his arms. You were surprised at his strength as he held you with one hand, his other pushing the door open. He made you feel so small, throwing you down onto the plush mattress, your chest rising and falling as he softly nipped at your collarbones. You weren’t this nervous with Luis, your hands shaking as you pushed some hair from Leon’s face as he kissed the small space between your chest, his hands carefully rubbing up your thighs, his fingers resting against your stomach as he pushed himself down the bed. He needed more. The way you shook under him only encouraged him, his head nuzzling so perfectly between your thighs, smirking up at you as your eyes fluttered away from you, avoiding his stare. The pressure in his pants grew more intense, listening to the hiss pull through your teeth as he held onto the fabric of the sundress, licking over your pretty black panties.

“Damn..”

He grumbled as he lifted your hips, pulling the panties off you, bundling them up in his hand, and pushing them into his pocket as he moved the dress's material again. Scooting in closer to you, laying your knees over his shoulders as he looked up at you through heavy eyelids, his tongue laying a long strip over your folds. You couldn’t help but squirm in his grasp, his hands flying to your waist as you let out that shaky whine again that drove him fucking crazy. You tasted so unbelievably good on his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he hungrily lapped at your folds, pulling you closer like somebody was trying to take you from him. You were so dazed, your back arching as the cameraman squatted beside you and Leon, trying to get the perfect angle. You didn’t even care about his presence, caught up in crying out Leon's name as he repeatedly lapped at your clit, a loud whimper leaving your lips as you sat up, tugging at his hair. Leon could stay between your legs all day, but he needed more. He pulled away from your still dripping core, his face glistening with your slick as he took advantage of you sitting up, pulling the dress over your head. He couldn’t help but groan, finally seeing you bare beneath him, his hands pushing down against your chest, your back laying flat against the mattress yet again as you stared up at him, watching with sparkling eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head. He was sculpted so beautifully.. and it hit you, this is why he’s so popular, he’s a walking god.

“Been waiting on this part all fucking day..”

Leon’s lips parted as he yanked his jeans down, along with his boxers. He let out a sigh of relief as his cock pressed against his upper stomach, his hand reaching down to pump himself as he kicked his jeans off. And suddenly you felt like that girl on the cover of the video you saw, Leon’s hair sprawling perfectly against his face as he leans his body down, tearing your thighs open as his thumb lazily rubs small circles against your clit, smirking as you jolt forward. He continued to pump himself as he reached over, grabbing at the baby pink silk pillow at the edge of the bed before he shoved it under your hips. What a gentleman… you thought to yourself before your thighs were pressing together at the feeling of his cock pressing into you. He was so thick, your walls having a hard time adjusting to even just the tip of him. Leon’s lips pressed together as he let out a quiet “fuck..” His hands holding your legs open as he put more pressure on your clit, your core growing soaked again assisting him in sliding so perfectly into you. If he weren’t getting paid for this, he would’ve just came then and there, watching your pretty face scrunch up in painful pleasure, your legs kicking in his grasp slightly, and your painfully tight walls squeezing him.

“Fuck.. relax, baby, let me in.”

Leon whispered to you as you nodded your head, allowing your hips to rest against the pillow as he cooed down at you, leaning down against your much smaller form and forcing your legs over his broad shoulder. His thumb is still rubbing at your clit to ease the pain of him stretching you out. Leon’s jaw tightens as he pulls his hips back, letting out a shaky breath as he slams back into you, smiling as the small “Mmph!-“ Left your throat involuntarily. So fucking precious. Your soft thighs brushed against his chest as he fucked into you, his body weight lifting off you as he grabbed your ankles, staring down at where he pushed into you. Even the director looked surprised as Leon let out a long moan. It rumbled through his chest as he continued to fuck into you, your hands grabbing at the bed sheets. Leon mumbled a few words to himself before he grabbed at your body, flipping you on to your side as he threw the pillow to to other side of the room. He crawled behind you, lifting your leg before he pushed into you again, causing you to let out a loud whine, your head leaning back into his shoulder as his thrusts somehow became deeper- more meaningful. Leon reached over, pushing some hair from your face as he looked down at you.

“Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes for me.”

His lips touch the shell of your ear as he whispers to you. You were in bliss; he rubbed against your walls so perfectly it felt like your skin was on fire. Your eyes fluttered open, looking at the camera hazily. Leon shook his head, grabbing your jaw and turning your head towards him.

“Don’t look at them.. look at me… it’s just you and me right now, baby, just you and me.”

He groaned down to you as a loud cry of pleasure left your lips in response, your orgasm crashing through you. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer to him as his hips snapped into you faster.

“That's a good fucking girl- mm.. fuck keep squeezing around me like that, honey..”

Leon felt his hips stuttering as he looked down at you, fucked out in his arms. A shaky moan left his lips as his hips stopped, his cum spurting into you, causing loud cries to leave your lips. Leon laid out of breath before he pulled out of you, smirking as he tilted his head at the cameraman to bring him in closer as he spread your lips, his fingers spreading your folds as his cum dripped out of you, the biggest smirk on his face.

“Cut!”

Was all you heard as the bed dipped beside you, your body still trying to recover as you sat up, your hair messy and your mascara running down the side of your face as Leon laughed, looking over at you.

“You okay, sugar?”

He asked sweetly as he grabbed a water, opening it before handing it to you, pushing some hair from your face as you took a small sip.

“Yeah.. just was a lot.”

You nod as he watches you; he clears his throat, handing you the sundress from the ground as he stands, pulling his pants up.

“Listen. I know you don’t know me, but, are you busy tonight? Let me take you out for dinner.”

He wasn’t asking; it was more of him letting you know he was. Your arms go through the holes before you look at him, nodding your head.

———-

You were the current talk of the industry.

Everyone was so curious how you broke Leon, making him utterly different from any video he’s ever shot.

Your face scrunches as you look at yours and Leon’s page on the front cover of the site, that smirk on his face as he spreads apart your folds. Your knee is pressed to your chest as you scroll through the comments, flinching slightly as you feel pressure at the top of your head.

“Morning.”

Leon grumbles as he sips his coffee after kissing the top of your head. His eyes follow yours, seeing the “uploaded two months ago” in the corner as he whistled

“Gonna win awards for that one.”

He winks at you, your arm swinging at him before you shut the laptop on the table.

[lottielovelace]

die prinzessin

(PLATONIC könig & sister!reader)

summary: So... turns out your mystery half-brother is a giant Austrian special forces operator. What now? (Catching up on two decades of sibling bonding, that's what)

originally posted on ao3 (wordcount: main version 3.1k)

Rating: T

Relationships: Platonic König & Reader, König/Horangi

Ao3 Tags: Brother-Sister Relationships / Sibling Bonding / Long Lost/Secret Relatives / reader is konig's half sister / Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (reader has scars implied to be from SH but it's ultimately left up to interpretation) / Deutsch | German / Author speaks German (as a second language) / Historical References / reading the prior installment is recommended but not required

this is a part of a series

Notes:

Possible triggers: - König teaches MC to shoot. No violence, but he gives her semi-detailed instructions on how to handle a sniper rifle. - MC talks about past mental health struggles, and König notices old scars of her. These are implied to be from SH, but I tried to leave it open-ended for anyone who doesn't want that in their reading. - König implied to have previously experienced homophobia.

Prior context: I recommend reading the previous installment in the series, but if you really don't wanna here are the truly crucial parts: Your name is Elisabeth "Elise" Linh Veidt, a medical student. You were kidnapped to serve as hostage for a half-brother (König) you've never met before, who ended up rescuing you. There's more, but it's not directly tied to this fic so I'll leave it unspoiled in case you do become interested in reading the first work in the series. I do not use Y/N. I sometimes do use "Elise" & other specific details (you'll see why it's unavoidable in this fic) but I try to—when possible—keep things vague so you can freely project onto her (ex: using "your hair" instead of "your dark hair").

About the German: I speak German as a second language. I like to assess my skill level as "I know what Genitive is, but I don't always remember to use it." As Hochdeutsch-speaking foreign civilian, my speech patterns/vocabulary are going to be pretty similar to Elise's but very different to König, a native Austrian and a hardened soldier. I tried translate as accurately as possible (lots of LEO usage), but besides maybe a "servus" or two, I made and will make no attempt to mimic the Austrian dialect because it's frankly a lost cause for me. That being said, if you are a native speaker and notice any grammatical/syntactical mistakes (or even any sentences where you go "he would not fucking say that" [ex: a term being super formal or old fashioned] please let me know!

About the legibility: This is the primary iteration of the fic. If the German really does make it impossible to read, here's a version devoid of foreign language, but if possible, I highly recommend reading this version for the fullest experience. This version is the most proofread edition and even if you don't speak the language there was linguistic nuances you can still pick up on. If there are any cultural references you don't get, I have an explanation post linked at the bottom. (also available here)

"Können wir jetzt sprechen?” [ Can we speak now? ]

“Fast,” [ Almost ], your brother answered as he continued to guide you through the complex’s winding halls. His refusal to answer questions until your surroundings were secure made the flight over to the KorTac base feel endless.

Finally he stopped at a door-lined hallway. Approaching the second on the left, he punched a combination into its keypad. It swung open, revealing a modest bedroom.

“Großes Bett” [ Big bed ], you noted. His cot was large, even for someone of his rank.

“Ich habe ein Verzicht erhalten” [ I got a waiver ], he lazily indicated at his height. You were once again reminded of your stark height difference.

You looked at him—or at least what you could see of him with the mask—again. Drawing from your bio classes, you knew you shared 25% of your DNA. Clearly none of it manifested in height. Your father had been tall, but even at his peak he was nowhere near as lofty as your brother.

“Deine Mutter muss riesig sein.” [ Your mother must be giant .]

“Sie war.” [ She was. ]

You mentally winced. Way to get off on the wrong foot.

“Meine Mutter ist auch verstorben. Früher dieses Jahres.” [ My mother also passed. Earlier this year. ]

“Entschuldigung.” [ My condolences ].

“Du weißt, dass unser Vater schon ein paar Jahren gestorben ist.” [ You know that our father died a few years ago. ]

You really hoped you weren’t the one to break the news to him.

“Ja, ich weiß. Wir haben einen Brief bekommen.” [ Yes, I know. We received a letter .]

“Gut.” [ Good .]

“Dein Name ist Elisabeth, ja?” [ Your name is Elisabeth, correct? ]

“Ja.” [ Yes. ]

You’re not surprised he knows. There’s gotta be a file on you somewhere packed with everything you’ve ever even sniffed at.

“Magst du deinen Namen?” [ Do you like your name? ]

“Wie bitte?” [ Pardon? ]

“Benutzen Sie Elisabeth oder etwas anderes?" [ Do you go by Elisabeth or something else? ]

“Elise. Und du musst nicht ‘Sie’ benutzen. Wir sind Blut.” [ Elise. And you don’t need to be so formal. We’re blood .] A beat passed. “Wie heißt du?” [ And you? What is your name? ]

“Jeder nennt mich König.” [ Everyone calls me König. ]

“König? Ist das nicht ein wenig dramatisch?” [ King? Isn’t that a bit dramatic? ]

“Wenn du so groß wie ich bin, gibt es keinen Raum für Subtilität. Auch mag ich Geburtsnamens nicht.” [ When you’re as big as me, there is no room for subtlety. Plus I’m not the biggest fan of my birth name. ]

“Darf ich fragen?” [ May I ask? ]

“Ludwig.”

“Ludwig? Wie der König? Der Verrückte?” [ Ludwig? Like the king? The mad one? ]

“Genau. Ich mag es nicht, aber möchte es noch würdigen.” [ Exactly. I don’t like it, but I do enjoy paying tribute to it in my own way.]

“Elisabeth und Ludwig. Unser Vater mochte die Wittelsbacher, ja?” [ Elisabeth and Ludwig. Our father had a fondness for the Wittelsbachers. ]

“Wenn ich der Märchenkönig bin und du die Sisi bist, bist du Kaiserin?” [ If I’m the Fairy Tale King, and you’re Sisi… wouldn’t that make you the Empress? ]

“Dann wäre ich dir überlegen.” [ I would outrank you then. ]

“Gefällt dir das als mögliches Rufzeichen?” [ Would you like that as a callsign? ]

“Was? Kaiserin? Muss ich wirklich einen?” [ What, Empress? Do I even need one? ]

“Ja. Es würde mir ein Stein vom Herzen fallen. Dein Name ist kostbar. Verrate es nicht. Zumindest nicht hier.” [ I think so. It would ease my mind. Your name is a precious thing, I don’t want you to give it away. At least not while you’re on base. ]

Your stomach twisted.

“Du hast mir gesagt, dass dieser Ort sicher sei.” [ I thought you said this place was safe. ]

“Ja voll. Aber jeder kann mithören und hacken.” [ It is. But anyone can tap into radio comms or steal files .]

“Was meinst du damit?” [ What are you implying? ]

“Es ist zusätzlicher Schutz. Bitte. Es könnte irgendetwas. Ich brauche nur, dass du eines hast.” [ It’s an extra barrier of protection. Please. You can pick whatever it is, I just want you to have one. ]

You thought about it for a moment.

“Ich möchte nicht ‘Kaiserin’ sein. Das ist zu viel Macht und Anstrengung. Die Kaiserkrone hat die echte Sisi erwürgen.” [ I don’t want to be ‘Empress’. That’s too much power and pressure. The imperial crown strangled the original Sisi, after all. ]

A smile bloomed on your face.

“Vielleicht zulasse ich ‘Prinzessin’.” [ I might be amenable to ‘Princess’ though. ]

“Prinzessin? Ich kann damit leben. Sinn für kurz?” [ Princess? I can work with that. Sinn (meaning sense/reason/mind) for short? ]

You nodded with deep gravitas, “Einer von uns muss die Intelligenz sein.” [ Someone needs to be the brains around here. ]

Something about the faux-seriousness in your tone made the two of you burst into uncontrollable laughter.

The moment is so beautiful, you almost don’t want to ruin it with the question you know you have to ask. Something ancient, the spirit of Orpheus or Pandora perhaps, urges you to look.

“Darf ich über der Maske fragen?” [ Can I ask about the mask? ]

He paused for a moment, hesitant. Then quietly he spoke:

“Ich kann es ausziehen. Du bist Familie.” [ I can take it off. For you. You’re family, after all. ]

There’s a reluctance in his voice that made your heart twinge.

“Du musst nicht wenn du nicht willst.” [ You don’t have to if you don’t want to. ]

“Nein.” [ No. ] This time his voice seems more resolved, “Ich möchte.” [ I want to. ]

He pulled off his hood. His face was ruddy, but it worked well with his light hair and eyes. You two both looked so similar yet so different.

“Du hast alle guten Gene geerbt,” [ You clearly got all the good genes, ] you joked.

He turned his head bashfully, accidentally revealing his battered side profile.

“Deine arme Nase! Was passiert?” [ Your poor nose! What happened to it? ]

“Zebrochen. Ein paarmal. Bisschen verwickelt medizinische Hilfe zu erkriegen wenn du deinem Gesicht verheimlichst.” [ Broke it. A few times. Bit hard to get medical attention when you refuse to show your face. ]

“Nächste Mal einfach ruf mich. Ich habe dein Gesicht schön gesehen.” [ Next time just come to me. I’ve already seen your face. ]

“Mit Verlaub zu sagen, wie viel kannst du hilf mit helfen?” [ No offense, but how much can you help? ]

“Ja leider. Was weiß ich?” [ You’re right. What do I know? ] you bit back. “Ich habe nur noch ein Viertel vom Medschule übrig.” [ I’m only a quarter out from graduating med school. ]

“Soll das ein Scherz sein?” [ You’re joking. ]

“Das war nicht im Bericht?” [ That didn’t make it into the file? ]

“Nein. Wann ist der Abschluss?” [ No. When’s graduation? ]

You tensed. He was beaming with pride. You hated to ruin it with the ugly truth.

“Ich weiß nicht ob ich graduiere.” [ I don’t know if I will graduate. ]

“Warum? Hast du schulische Probleme?” [ Why? Are you having troubles at school? ]

“Sozusagen. Meine Noten sind gut, aber heuer versuchte ich zu ausscheiden. Sie ließen mich nicht, so nahm ich Gewaltkur.” [ Sort of? My grades are fine but… I tried to drop out earlier this year. They wouldn’t let me so I took more… drastic measures. ]

König’s eyes drifted to your scars.

“Sie sind alt.” [ They’re old, ] you reassured. “Und danach dem ganze Entführungquatch, ich bin entschlossen zu überleben. Vetrau mir. Deshalb möchte ich nicht zurückkehren. Ich möchte leben, nicht in Schule sorgen.” [ Plus after the whole kidnapping ordeal, I’m more determined to live than ever. Trust me. That’s why I don’t want to go back. I want to live, not suffer more in school. ]

Your brother looked at you disapprovingly, “Du musst zurückgehen.” [ You need to go back. ]

“Kann ich einfach hier bleiben? Bei dir? Ich könnte Medizinerin sein.” [ Can’t I just stay here with you? I could be a medic. ]

"Medizinische Arbeit ist nicht leicht.” [ Being a medic is hard work. ]

“Fleiß ist kein fremd.” [ I’m no stranger to hard work.]

“Du wärst ein bessere Medizinerin, wenn du Schule fertigbringst.” [ You’d be a better medic if you finished school. ]

You stared at him with arms crossed, unyielding.

He tried again, “Wenn du dein Medizinstudium abschließt kannst du hier arbeiten. Und du erhältst eine besondere Belohnung von mir.” [ Look, if you graduate you can work here full time—and I’ll ensure you get a special reward. ]

“Was?” [ What? ]

“Eine Überraschung. Du wirst es schön wissen.” [ It’s a surprise. I won’t tell you. Yet. ]

You pursed your lips. Clearly this wasn’t an argument you were going to win.

“In Ordnung. Aber lass mich länger bleiben. Ich möchte dich kennenlernen.” [ Fine. But let me stay a little longer. I want to get to know you.]

“Natürlich.” [ Of course. ]

The tension dissipated.

“Du hast gesagt das du lasst Medical dein Gesicht nicht sehen. Erlaubst du irgendjemand?” [ You said you don’t let medical see your face. Do you let anyone else? ]

Your brother flushed. He really was quite pink under the hood.

“Einer.” [ One person .]

You mentally rolled up your sleeves. You had over two decades of little sister pestering to make up for.

“Echt?” [ Oh really? ]

“Ein Freund.” [ A friend. ]

“Ein Freund oder dein Freund?” [ A friend or your boyfriend? ]

“Ich liebe ihn.” [ I love him. ]

“Gefühl er gleichartig?” [ And does he feel the same?]

“Ja.” [ Yes. ]

“Na ja, ich muss sehen, ob er gut genug für dich ist.” [ Hmm. I’ll have to see if he’s good enough for you. ] 

He slumped in relief. With a jolt you realized he was afraid of you… rejecting him. For what? Being in a relationship with another man? No, you of all people would never do that. You silently resolved to make sure he would never have to fear that ever again.

“Du kannst ihn heute Abend in der Kantine begegen.” [ You can meet him in the mess hall tonight. ]

----------

The mess hall is awash with activity. Even here amongst allies and coworkers, people gave König a wide berth.

“Welcher ist er?” [ Which one is he? ]

König pointed to a man sitting alone at a table.

“Dieser.” [ That one. ]

“Noch ein Maskenträger? Bisschen narzisstisch, ja?” [ Another mask? Bit narcissistic of you, isn’t it?]

You felt your brother roll his eyes under his hood. The sitting man’s head jerked up at the sound of his heavy footsteps. His mask already pulled up over his mouth to eat, the man broke out into a brilliant smile.

“Das ist der Horangi.” [ This is Horangi. ] König introduced. “Klarname Kim Hong-jin.” [ Real name Kim Hong-jin. ]

“Sprecht er Deutsch?” [ Does he speak German? ]

“Ja.” [ Yes. ] Horangi responded. “Er war mein Lehrer. So wurden wir unzertrennlich. Du bist seine Schwester, ja?” [ He has been my tutor. It’s actually how we got close. You’re his sister, right? ]

“Richtig.” [ Yes. ]

“Does she speak English?” Horangi asked your brother, switching languages. You knew it was just a way to test your skills, but it irked you.

“I’m American.”

“Just because you’re American doesn’t mean you speak English. I don’t even know if half the stuff that comes out of Graves’ mouth even qualifies as human speech.”

“Graves?” you looked to your brother for explanation.

“Er ist—wie sagt man das? Yee-haw?” [ He is… how do you say it? Yee-haw? ]

“Südstaatler?” [ Southern? ]

“Geneau.” [ Exactly. ]

You crossed your arms and gave Horangi a final thorough look-over.

“I approve under one condition.”

“Yes?”

“Teach me how to fight. It’s great that I was able to meet my brother but I do not want a repeat of the kidnapping.”

Horangi cocked his head, “Wouldn’t you want to learn from your brother?”

“There are plenty of things I want to learn from him. This is not one of them. Based on size alone, we’re going to have very different strategies. I’m sure he’s a great fighter, but I have a feeling that using his technique with my frame would be… lackluster. No offense.”

“Kein Problem.” [ None taken. ]

“Very well,” Horangi relented. If this was all it took to be on the good side of his in-laws, it was a small price to pay. “I expect to see you at 7 sharp. I won’t go easy on you.”

“Perfect.”

----------

Horangi’s right. It’s not easy, but slowly and steadily—and with no small amount of tears and blood—you managed to win Horangi’s respect (and a nice set of abs).

About a week in, he makes a suggestion. You two were on a water break, your brother was sitting nearby. König had taken to watching your sparring, occasionally commentating or tagging in.

“Du verbesserst!” [ You’re improving! ] the Austrian complimented brightly.

“Und ich habe gar nichts mit es zu tun.” [ And I had absolutely nothing to do with the matter, ] Horangi muttered with mock resentment.

“Unsinn, du bist immer ein prima Lehrer.” [Nonsense, you are an excellent teacher.] König apologized with a kiss.

“Wirklich! Vielen Dank.” [ Definitely, thank you so much! ] you corroborated.

Horangi shifted. Even in training, he still wore the mask—at least while in the base’s general gym. He was more lackadaisical about it in private. Your “family dinners” with him and König had given you a good look at both of their faces. 

You’d become well versed in his facial reactions. Even with his face covered you could feel his devilish smile.

“자기야, du solltest ihr deine erste Liebe vorstellen.” [You know babe, you should introduce her to your first love.]

Your head snapped to your brother. Sans Horangi, you were probably the person on base who he felt most comfortable talking about his past with, but even then it sometimes felt like pulling teeth. You quickly learned to treasure any lore you gleaned.

“Was? Warum habe ich noch nie von das gehört?” [ What? How have I not heard of this before? ]

König raised his hands in defense.

“Das stimmt nicht. Er verhohnepipelt mich.” [ It’s not like that. He’s making fun of me. ]

“Wer ist diese erste Liebe dann?” [ Who is this first love then? ]

“Scharfschützen.” [ Sniping, ] he replied bashfully.

----------

After much cajoling, you finally got König to teach you to snipe. You had a good feeling about it. You always had a steady hand and good hand-eye coordination. Before the kidnapping, you’d even been looking into specializing in surgery (though now—whenever you’d return—you’d be taking a hard turn into emergency medicine and the other subjects required for a combat medic). Plus maybe it ran in the family.

You met at the shooting range one early morning. Horangi had recently been deployed and your brother needed to stop stressing about it.

“Ich wollte ein Heckenschütze sein.” [ I wanted to be a sniper, ] he explained as he showed you the mechanics. The assembly of the gun soundtracked his words with rhythmic clicking.

“Du bist ein Insertionsspezialist, ja? Was passiert?” [ You’re an insertion specialist, right? What happened? ]

“Zu groß. Das wird kein Problem für dich.” [ Too tall. That won’t be an issue for you. ]

You crossed your arms. Cheap shot. König didn’t notice your disapproval, eyes now trained on the target.

“Auch ich zappele.” [ And I fidget .]

“Ich habe dein Scharfschießen gesehen. Du hast eine feste Hand.” [ I’ve seen you shoot. You have a steady hand. ]

“Hände kann ich ruhen. Alles anderes, nicht so viel. Problematisch, wenn man unauffindbar sein muss. Erinnern: Drück, nicht zieh.” [ I can keep my hands steady. The rest of me, not so much. A slight issue when trying to be undetectable. Remember, squeeze don’t pull. ]

BANG

Bullseye.

“Du bist dran.” [ Your turn. ]

You approached the marked spot. This seemed so much easier before you felt the gun in your hands and witnessed your brother’s expertise first hand.

“Hol drei tief Atemzüge. Großer letzter Ausatmen. Das ist der Moment. Beacht Folgemaßnahmen, Rückstoß ist eine knifflige, besonders bei deiner Größe.” [ Take three deep breaths. Big exhale on the last. That’s when you want to shoot. And remember to follow through, recoil can be a bitch, especially at your size. ]

Even with your nervousness, you still found it in yourself to retort.

“Nennst du mich kurz?” [ Are you calling me short? ]

“Für mich seid ihr alle kurz. Das ist nichts speziell. Schussbereit!” [ You’re all short to me. There’s nothing special about that. Position! ]

The gun was heavy, but thanks to your work with Horangi not unbearable.

One.

Two.

Three. 

Even watching your brother’s demonstration hadn’t prepared you for just how loud the gunshot was.

You flinched. Hard.

The bullet went left, landing in the dirt with a small puff.

“Scheiße.” [ Shit. ]

“Gute Form. Ohne dein Zucken, wurdest du ins Schwarze treffen. Du musst nur an dem Krach passen. Probier es noch mal.” [ Good form. If it wasn’t for the flinch you would’ve got it dead on. You just need to get used to the noise. Try again. ]

You were still rattled, but your brother’s confidence in you steadied your hands.

You knew you could do it, you just had to…

Eins.

Zwei.

Drei.

There was no dust cloud this time. Only the noise of the round hitting something solid and your brother’s exhilarated whoop as he took you in his arms.

----------

Saying goodbye was rough. Both König and Horangi joined you on the ride to the airport, wanting to prolong goodbyes for as long as possible.

“Bis bald.” [ See you soon. ]

When your flight finally touched down and you returned to finish med school, it was with a few training bruises, an even steadier finger, and a determination to help your new family the only way you knew how.

An explanation of König & Reader's full names and the historical references behind them

[ur-sick-and-married]

NICKNAMES • JULIEN BAKER

HEADCANONS

TW: Sexual content, if you squint.

Summary: What Julien calls you, other than your name :)

Author’s note: My first post on here! You can also find this on my Wattpad, which is linked in my bio!

HONEY

- A classic.

- She loves it.

- She finds it funny to go “Honey, I’m home!”

- It honestly makes you feel so safe and loved.

- In her songs, she uses it multiple times, and her accent with it actually drives you insane.

- If there’s a spicy moment…her quiet, rough voice makes you literally melt.

- “Oh, yeah, honey?” while smirking, because she just knows it turns you on.

BABY

- She uses this the most, no matter the situation.

- If you’re sad, she’s like “Oh, baby…” while frowning, or “It’s okay, baby, I know.”

- If you make a stupid joke, or try to tease (and seduce) her, she’ll just chuckle, “Baby.”

- While kissing, “You taste so good, baby.”

- While…doing other things, “Doing so good, baby.”

- She likes to say “my baby” too.

BABYGIRL (if you identify as a woman)

- A continuation of “baby” because you both enjoy it.

- Mostly just for teasing and when you’re being cute.

- Possibly your contact name in her phone.

- She doesn’t use this one much, it’s easier to just say “baby” and she prefers that.

DARLING

- She doesn’t use this in a fancy way, more in a Southern way. Yup.

- She pronounces it without the G, so it’s just Darlin’.

- It’s domestic, yet hot.

- She likes to add it to compliments:

- “So pretty, darlin’.”

- “Darlin’...you look good.”

- “Oh my God, darlin’…look at you…”

SWEETHEART

- Because you’re just so cute and kind to her.

- Another one she uses all the time.

- If you’re mad at her, “Sweetheart, come on…forgive me…?”

- When you’re upset, “Relax, sweetheart…just breathe.” or “Aw, sweetheart…hey, it’s alright…”

LOVE

- I can see her being a big fan of this one.

- She uses this in every other sentence.

- She loves you so much, might as well be very clear about it.

- Like, everything she says ends or begins with it. She’s obsessed. It’s just a habit now.

- She’s using it no matter what.

- You’re upset? She’s saying it. You’re mad? She’s saying it. You’re literally grinding on her (muscular-who said that?) thigh? Yup, yup, yup. Gonna say it.

ANGEL

- She says it occasionally, you eat it up every time.

- It’s more of a sexual thing.

- Or when you’re just being the amazing partner that I assume you are.

- “Come on, angel, you didn’t have to…” She always says when you do something for her when she’s stressed. It’s guaranteed.

- If we’re thinking sexual…”Yeah, angel, just like that…”

SUNSHINE

- You’re the light of her life, she likes to point it out.

- She always says this in a happy, goofy mood.

- “Hey, sunshine.” She’ll hug you from behind and bury her face in your neck.

A few others that I think she would use:

- Pretty, gorgeous, beautiful, handsome, cutie

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

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📖 Link in bio! ✨ Let me know your thoughts after reading! 💬

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Sweetened Memories

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — The one where he falls for you again.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Trent Alexander-Arnold x You

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 5.8k

Warnings! FLUFF!! so much fluff, childhoodfriends!au, they're in loveee

Preview

**********

The coffee machine sputtered and groaned under your firm but futile grip, emitting a steaming hiss that served as the final exclamation point on yet another failed attempt. It's beyond saving, and deep down, you knew it.

Still, you gave it one last tap out of sheer stubbornness before stepping back with a sigh.

Your mum’s old bakery had seen better days, its equipment far from the shiny, state-of-the-art setups you’d seen on glossy magazine pages or Instagram feeds.

Yet, despite the peeling paint, creaking floorboards, and temperamental appliances, this place was home—a stubborn little corner of the world that had witnessed your happiest and hardest days. And for that you could never give it up.

You'll fight till the end.

The comforting hum of the bakery was broken by the cheerful jingle of the bell above the door, signaling a customer. Wiping your hands on your flour-dusted apron, you hurriedly finished up what you were doing before looking towards the sound.

“Be right there!” you called out automatically, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face as you turned toward the counter.

When your eyes landed on the figure standing just inside the doorway, your heart faltered, stumbling in a way that caught you off guard.

There, silhouetted against the warm glow of the morning sun streaming through the glass, stood Trent Alexander-Arnold.

His baseball cap was tugged low, shadowing his familiar features, and a hoodie hung loosely over his broad shoulders, doing little to disguise his unmistakable frame. But it wasn’t just him. A small girl clung to his hand, half-hiding behind his leg as her curious eyes darted around the bakery.

For a moment, your brain scrambled to connect the dots. Trent. Here. In your mum’s bakery. The realization hit like a splash of cold water, jolting you upright.

His gaze flicked toward you briefly, and at first, there was no sign of recognition. But as your startled expression softened into a knowing smile, something shifted in his posture. His brows furrowed slightly, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face.

“Hey,” he said cautiously, his voice quiet but instantly recognizable. “I just need a quick—”

“Trent,” you interrupted, your voice warm with amusement. His name felt foreign on your tongue after so many years, like an old song you hadn’t sung in ages. Yet, it came naturally, almost effortlessly.

He froze mid-sentence, his sharp gaze narrowing as he studied you more closely. And then, as though a veil lifted, recognition dawned. His eyes widened slightly, his expression softening as his features shifted from confusion to something bordering on disbelief.

“Wait… you're—” he began, his voice trailing off as the pieces clicked into place.

“The girl who pushed you into a puddle in Year Five because you made fun of my braces?” you offered, a soft laugh escaping you as the memory bubbled to the surface.

For a beat, he stared at you, then broke into a lopsided grin that sent an unwelcome flutter through your chest. “I was gonna say the girl who could never beat me in races on the playground, but sure, let’s go with that.”

You rolled your eyes, the teasing lilt in his tone instantly familiar. “Selective memory, as always. Some things never change.”

**********

-Bianca🌻

[onechicagolife]

ABSENTIA | JAY HALSTEAD

Detective Jay Halstead is a senior member of the Intelligence Unit, where he is partnered with Detective Hailey Upton after his former partner went missing undercover. While he never wanted to give up hope, the CPD assumed her dead and he was resigned to accept it. Now, two years later, Jay gets a sudden phone call with news that changes his life forever. Avery Clarke is alive. want to be tagged? link in bio <3

Chapter 12

Kim bursts into the gym, her breaths uneven, her words rushed. “There you are!” She freezes, eyes catching on Avery’s blood-streaked knuckles as she finishes wrapping gauze around her hands, red already blooming through the white fabric. Her expression is sharp with worry, but there’s no time to question it, “We got a location. Come on, we’re rolling out.”

Avery is on her feet before Kim finishes the sentence, grabbing her jacket and gun in one motion. She doesn’t speak as they head to the cars, the blare of lights and sirens filling the air.

The team gathers in front of the industrial building as Voight lays out the plan, his voice gruff and commanding, “The front has surveillance cameras. So, Kim, you and Rojas hold the perimeter. Kev, you and Hailey take the south side of the building.”

Kim gives a tight nod, pulling Vanessa with her, while the rest continue on. Adam stops at the door while Kevin and Hailey keep walking. Avery steps forward instinctively to follow, but Voight’s voice halts her.

“Clarke. Stay with me and Ruzek.” The words are a command, not a request. He doesn’t trust her right now—not with the fire burning in her eyes, not with how close to the edge she’s standing. Avery bites the inside of her cheek so hard she tastes blood but doesn’t argue. She falls into step behind Adam, her body vibrating with impatience as he works at the locked door with a crowbar.

“Sarge, no entry point on the south side,” Atwater’s voice crackles through the radio.

“Just keep looking,” Voight responds, the clipped edge of his tone mirroring her growing frustration.

Adam grunts as he wrenches the crowbar against the bolt. It gives only slightly, the groan of metal dragging out the seconds. She steps in beside him, grabbing the end of the bar to add some torque. They work silently, sweat beading on their brows as the first bolt gives way.

Kevin’s voice suddenly comes through, louder this time, “Upton’s inside, Sarge.”

Her head snaps up. “Adam,” her voice is sharp, urgent, cracking under the pressure.

“I’m working on it,” her partner bites back, the second bolt loosening with an agonizing creak.

But it’s taking too long. Hailey’s in there, and if Hailey got in, so could she. Before anyone can stop her, Avery takes off at a sprint, her boots slapping against the pavement.

“Clarke!” Voight’s voice booms behind her. “Clarke, get back here!” He watches her disappear around the corner, futilely calling out her name.

She doesn’t stop. She can’t.

She finds Atwater on the sidewalk, glancing up the wall. She follows his line of sight, narrowing in on the small window. “Kev, help me up,” she orders, no room for argument in her tone.

Kevin hesitates only for a second before bending to cup his hands, “You ready?”

Avery nods, and with a grunt, he lifts her up. She hooks her arms over the window ledge, her muscles straining as she hauls herself through the narrow opening. The rough concrete scrapes her skin, but she barely registers it. With a final push from Kevin, she squeezes through and crawls across the dusty floor inside.

“All right, Hailey, you got your ears on?” the sergeant’s voice comes through the radio, cutting in and out. Silence.

Her heart slams in her chest as she moves forward, gun drawn, steps calculated but fast. “Hailey, I’m in. I’m right behind you.”

“We got entry on the west side. We are moving in. Do you copy, Hailey?” Voight asks again.

“I think she shut down, Sarge. Avery just landed. On my way,” Kevin runs to meet up with the others as they rush in.

Jay moves with hurried, deliberate motions, his body aching from exhaustion. He searches the unconscious man’s body, looking for something—anything before their other captor returns. Eventually, he finds a knife and flicks it open with shaking fingers, the blade glinting faintly in the dim light. He moves to Angela, kneeling in front of her.

“You did good, okay? You did real good,” he murmurs, working to untie the zip ties cutting into her wrists. Her eyes are barely open, her skin tinged a sickly grey as blood seeps from her wounds.

“Okay. All right,” Jay finishes untying her. He grabs the pipe he’d used earlier and places it in Angela’s trembling hands. “Stay here. Stay here.” He forces her fingers closed around the metal, “Take this, I’m going after the other one. Okay?” He squeezes her hand tightly to make sure she understands, waits for her weak nod before rising to his feet.

Every step feels like wading through water as he moves towards the stairs. His vision swims, and his head pounds, one eye nearly swollen shut. He can hear the man’s voice above him, shouting angrily into a phone, growing louder as Jay gets closer. Gripping the knife tighter, his knuckles turn white around the handle as adrenaline starts to dull the pain aching through his body. He pauses at the top step and waits for the man to turn his back before he rushes him, blocking a hit and grabbing him by the shoulders.

The man struggles against him, wild and desperate, but Jay keeps the knife steady, driving it into his stomach with a grunt of effort. The gun is knocked from his hand, flying over the railing with a clank but he doesn’t stop fighting. Jay twists the blade, shoving the man back into a beam before they collapse onto the concrete floor in a tangled heap.

“Jay!”

The voice—her voice—cuts through the haze, sending a jolt through him. For a split second, Jay swears he’ll look up and see Avery standing there. But when his gaze snaps up, it’s a blonde ponytail that catches his eye through slightly blurred vision. Exhausted, his breaths come out in ragged pants as he rests back on his heels. Hailey rushes to him, kneeling in front of him with watery eyes.

“Jay, are you okay?” she asks frantically. Before he can answer, she leans in, pressing two quick, desperate kisses to his lips. Hailey lifts a hand to prod at the bleeding cut above his eye, “Hey, are you okay?”

Jay doesn’t respond. He can’t stop his eyes from drifting over her shoulder, expecting—hoping—to see someone else. Just hang in there, okay? Avery’s voice reverberates in his head. He forces himself upright, swaying as he does. “I’ve got to go help Angela,” he says hoarsely, staggering toward the steps. “She’s downstairs.” He ignores the silent plea in his partner’s gaze and mumbles, “Stay here.”

She gives a reluctant nod, voice betraying her as it cracks, “5021 Henry, we’ve got an offender down and an officer injured. Roll two ambulances.”

Avery bursts into the room moments later, wild eyes taking in the scene before lowering her weapon. “Where is he?” she demands.

“He’s okay,” Hailey says breathlessly, tilting her chin toward the stairs, “He’s getting Angela.”

Jay rounds the corner, his steps faltering as his eyes land on Angela. His chest tightens at the sight of her, blood-streaked and trembling, the gun shaking in her hands as it points directly at him. He raises his hands slowly, his voice calm despite the thunderous pounding in his chest. “Angela,” he breathes, his words measured, “Angela, it’s okay. My partner’s here, okay?”

Her eyes flicker, a sliver of recognition cutting through the fog of her terror. The gun wavers, lowering an inch. Relief blooms faintly in Jay’s chest as he takes a cautious step forward, his hands still raised. His voice softens.

“You’re safe. It’s over,” he assures her, trying to project the calm she so desperately needs. But something isn’t right. He can see it in the way her face shifts, in the way her gaze hardens suddenly, becoming unreadable.

Jay freezes, confusion flashing across his face, “Angela—”

The word dies in his throat as her arm jerks up again. His body moves instinctively, too slow to stop her as she pulls the trigger. The gunshot shatters the air. The force of the bullet slams into his upper chest, just below his shoulder, with a fiery, searing pain that steals the breath from his lungs. The momentum sends him staggering back into the wall and for a second, everything tilts. His brain is scrambling to process what just happened, and then gravity yanks him forward. He collapses to the floor, landing hard before flopping onto his back with a strangled groan.

The pain is overwhelming. His chest feels like it’s on fire, every breath a jagged knife slicing through his ribs. Jay has been shot before. More than once—in the shoulder, in the side. But it never felt like this. The bullet seems to have taken something vital with it, and his vision swims as the room tilts around him. He stares up at the ceiling, the cracks blurring as his body grows heavier and he groans with the increasing effort it takes to take in air. His limbs won’t move, and the cold concrete beneath him seems to reach up and pull him under.

Panic claws at his mind, but another voice rises to drown it out.

Just hang in there, okay?

It’s her face that flashes in his mind, not Hailey’s. Her sharp, determined gaze. Her teasing smile. The way she always seemed to know what he was thinking before he did.

He’s thought about Avery every second since she came back—every second since he learned she wasn’t dead. He tried not to. He tried to respect her boundaries by setting his own, not allowing himself to dream about her. But now, in the haze of pain and desperation, she’s all he can see. The way she looked at him that day in the hospital. The fire in her eyes outside of Molly’s. The sound of her voice, just hours ago, that he clung to like a lifeline.

But it’s not just those memories. No, something older claws its way to the surface—something that plagued his nightmares for too long.

Jay leaned his forearms against his thighs inside the surveillance van as he listened over the wire. Avery’s voice came through steady and confident, her tone laced with the easy charm that had earned her a place at that table. She was always good at this—too good, if he was being honest. She had a way of slipping into her cover like a second skin, convincing everyone around her that she belonged. But even now, hearing the playful lilt in her voice, Jay couldn’t shake the knot tightening in his stomach. He tried to dismiss it as being a worried partner, an overprotective boyfriend, but something about this op didn’t feel right.

Her words back at the district played in his head, the way she smirked as he helped adjust the transmitter in the button of her jacket. “That’s why you have back up, right?”she teased before stealing a kiss, lips lingering with a promise of more to come when they got home that night.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, Nik,” her voice came through with a laugh, the faint clink of glass punctuating her words.

His jaw clenched as he listened, picturing her sitting there, surrounded by men who wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if they found out who she really was. They’d been opposite each other undercover dozens of times, but it didn’t make it any easier to stomach. Avery was fearless, and he hated how much he admired that about her. Hated how often it put her in situations like this one. But that was the job, and she was damn good at it.

Adam chuckled at the thinly veiled flirting from Volkov, making Jay roll his eyes. “Can we get down to business now?” she said, her tone shifting slightly, her words sharp and direct.

He couldn’t see her, but he could hear the subtle change in her tone as she pushed back, negotiating like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. His brow furrowed as the faint sound of movement crackled through the wire. Jay strained to listen, every nerve in his body on edge. It was a sound he’d heard countless times before—someone moving, stepping away—but this time, it seemed strange. A low voice in the background caught his attention.

“Something’s wrong,” Adam shook his head, shifting closer to the monitors.

Jay lifted a hand to stop him from grabbing his radio, “She’s got this.”

Until she didn’t. They could feel it—something shifting, like a wave pulling back before a storm.

“Someone is wearing a wire.”

He froze. The words were sharp and guttural, spoken in a thick accent. His heart slammed into his ribcage as the sound of chairs scraping against the floor filled the line. For a moment, there was nothing but static in his head, a rising panic that threatened to drown out everything else. Then he heard Avery’s voice again.

“What?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. She was stalling. He knew that tone, knew she was trying to buy time. “C’mon, Nik, you know me.” And then she said it. “You know I’m trustworthy.”

The safe word. The one they’d carefully chosen as just inconspicuous enough, the one that meant she was in immediate danger.

Jay shot to his feet, his heart racing as he grabbed his radio, “That’s the safe word! She’s blown, everybody move in!”

He was already moving, slamming open the van door and sprinting toward the building. He could hear the team mobilizing, their footsteps pounding behind him, but it wasn’t fast enough. It never felt fast enough.

The sounds coming through the wire were chaos—voices overlapping, chairs scraping, and then a muffled thud. His chest tightened as he heard Avery’s voice rise, still calm but laced with urgency.

“Nik, you know me! This is ridiculous!” she said, her words sharper now, strained. “C’mon, Nik!”

His mind raced. He could hear the struggle in her voice, the desperation she was trying to mask. Then, the sickening sound of something hard slamming against wood, followed by silence. A static, suffocating silence.

Jay had never felt so powerless. They’d stormed the location within minutes, but it was already too late. She was gone. Disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only a bloodstain and a hollow ache in his chest. For two years, that moment haunted him. The sound of her voice, the way it cracked in fear. The knowledge that he hadn’t gotten to her in time. He’d relived it a thousand times, wondering if he could’ve done something differently. Reacted sooner. Run faster. Anything to stop what happened. To bring her back.

He’d thought she was dead. Buried her in his heart. Tried to move on, even as every part of him ached for the partner he thought he’d lost forever.

And now, lying on the floor, bleeding out, Jay feels the same helplessness creeping in. The same regret. The same crushing sense of failure. The thought of losing her forever.

But he didn’t lose her. She came back.

His vision blurs, his breath hitching as he fights to stay conscious. Footsteps echo in the distance—faint but growing louder. His mind races as he hears voices shouting his name, but all he can focus on is one.

The gunshot echoes through the building, a deafening crack that freezes every muscle in Avery’s body. Her breath catches in her throat as the sound booms in her ears, each second stretching unbearably long. Breathe in. Hailey doesn’t hesitate, her face pale and steps frantic as she descends the stairs. Breathe out. Avery stands rooted to the spot, her mind screaming at her to move. Breathe in. Her body feels heavy, paralyzed by a sickening wave of dread. Breathe out. Then something snaps inside her, and she forces herself into action, her boots pounding against the concrete as panic coils tighter and tighter in her chest.

When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, the sight steals what little breath is left in her lungs. Jay is splayed out on the floor, blood pooling beneath him, his face pale and glistening with sweat. His chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths, each one more labored than the last. Angela lays slumped a few feet away, the gun still loosely gripped in her trembling hand.

“No,” Hailey chokes out, her voice breaking as she drops to her knees beside him. Her hands fly to his chest, pressing down on the wound as blood gushes between her fingers. “Jay, look at me,” she pleads, her voice cracking under the weight of her desperation.

Unable to look away, Avery remains frozen for another heartbeat before her gaze shifts to Angela. Realizing what she’s done, she draws her weapon in one fluid motion, her voice unnaturally loud. “Chicago PD! Drop the gun! DROP IT!”

Angela flinches, her grip faltering. The gun slips from her fingers and clatters to the floor. Whether she dropped it by choice or out of sheer weakness, Avery doesn’t care. Her pulse roars in her ears as she stalks forward, kicking the weapon out of reach with more force than necessary.

“Get on your stomach! NOW!” her voice is raw, trembling with anger as her finger hovers over the trigger, fighting the urge to pull. Angela doesn’t move, her body too weak, her eyes unfocused. Avery clenches her jaw, wrestling with her fury. She knows what she should do—what her badge demands of her—but she’s overwhelmed with vengeance, the sight of Jay’s bloodied form flashing behind her eyes.

But then she hears it—his ragged gasp behind her—and it grounds her. Forces her to remember who she is. Avery holsters her weapon, crouching down and rolling Angela onto her back. Her hands press against the wound in her stomach, a bitter satisfaction blooming as the woman grunts in pain before her eyes flutter closed.

The sound of heavy footsteps draws Avery’s attention as Voight bursts through the doorway, his eyes scanning the scene. His gaze lands on Jay, and his expression hardens into grim determination as he reaches for his radio. “10-1,” he snaps, “10-1, officer down.”

Adam rushes in with wide eyes, hesitating for a second before rushing over to his best friend. He places his hands atop hers, adding more pressure as he mutters her name. She ticks her eyes up to meet his, unshed tears clouding her vision, bottom lip quivering. After he sends a stiff nod, Avery slowly removes her hands to let him take over completely.

“Jay,” Hailey demands. Her hands remain on the wound, sticky with blood, while the other feels for his pulse, “Stay with me. Stay with me, Jay.”

His head lolls to the side, eyelids fluttering as Jay mutters something under his breath. His voice is barely audible, a slurred whisper, “Ave... Aver…”

Hailey’s face falls, the hurt flashing in her eyes, but she says nothing. Avery shuffles beside him, her breath hitching as she forces a smile through her tears. “Hey,” she chokes out, bringing a hand to stroke his cheek. “I’m here, okay? Listen to me. You are not allowed to die on me, Jay. You’re stronger than this, you hear me? You don’t get to quit. You don’t get to leave me, not like this.”

His eyes flicker toward her face, struggling to focus. Hailey clears the emotion from her throat, looking over her shoulder at the approaching paramedic, “His vitals are dropping. He’s losing too much blood.”

Voight’s voice booms over the chaos, “Set up an Officer Down detail to Med. Get those cars here now!”

One of the medics moves in, placing an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth while the other sets down a backboard. The paramedics lift Jay onto the stretcher, his body limp and pale. Avery grabs his hand, gripping it tightly as they begin wheeling him out. His gaze flickers between her and Hailey on either side, his lips moving in silent effort. His vision blurs, their faces melding into one as he struggles to stay conscious.

As the team moves with the stretcher, Jay catches flashes of his friends, their voices anchoring him to reality. Everything is moving so slowly, their words lagging as they reach his ears. He tries to focus on something—anything, but it’s all he can do to not let the darkness swallow him whole.

The stretcher bursts through the doors, and the outside air feels like a slap to her face. Avery stumbles slightly as the sight of the waiting ambulance brings everything into sharp focus. Voight shouts at the gathered officers, his tone sharp and commanding, “Move it! Clear the way! Let’s go, now!” The crowd parts instantly, officers scrambling to make a path.

Avery tightens her grip on Jay’s hand, unwilling to let go. But then she has no choice because the paramedics lift the stretcher just as Hailey steps around, her movements rushed and frantic. “I’m going with him,” the blonde’s tone leaves no room for argument and her shoulder accidentally bumps Avery’s as she climbs inside the ambulance, jarring her just enough that Jay’s hand slips from her grasp.

She freezes, staring as the doors slam shut with a resounding finality, and all she hears is that gunshot. Avery stands motionless in the street, her bloodied hands hanging at her sides as the ambulance roars to life, lights flashing. The wail of the siren fades into the distance, leaving behind an empty ache.

Around her, the team tries to process. Adam watches her with concern. Kevin paces nearby, his fists clenching and unclenching. Kim stands still, her lips pressed tightly together as she fights to hold back tears.

But Avery doesn’t move. She doesn’t hear Hank barking orders or the screech of tires as squad cars pull away. She’s rooted in place, her eyes fixed on the spot where the ambulance disappeared. Blood drips steadily onto the pavement from her fingertips, hands trembling as the adrenaline drains from her body, leaving only fear in its wake. Fear that the last thing Jay said might be the last thing he’ll ever say.

And all she can hear is his breathless gasp of her name.

The waiting room is a prison. The air is thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and the quiet prayers of officers who line the walls. The room buzzes with nervous energy—pacing footsteps, whispered conversations, the constant hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Every time the automatic doors slide open, heads snap toward them, hope flickering and fading in an instant.

Avery sits motionless in the corner with her elbows draped over her knees, her bandaged hands clasped tightly. Her gaze is fixed on the pale blue wall in front of her, unfocused and unseeing. The blood on her hands—Jay’s blood—still feels warm and sticky, no matter how many times she’s scrubbed them raw. Her knuckles throb beneath the fresh gauze, but the pain barely registers. She feels… nothing. Empty.

Adam’s worried gaze burns into the side of her head, but she doesn’t look at him. She can’t. She knows what she’ll see—the pity, the quiet sorrow, the hint of fear over what she’ll do next—and she can’t handle that right now. Not when she’s barely holding herself together. When she woke up in this very hospital just weeks ago, she thought she was broken. She had no idea that there were still thousands of pieces left to shatter.

Time stretches endlessly. The clock ticks in her periphery, each second dragging like an eternity. When the automatic doors finally slide open again, the sound feels louder than it should. Will steps into the waiting room, his face pale but composed. The room shifts instantly, officers rising to their feet, the quiet hum of conversation dying as everyone turns to face him.

Will’s eyes scan the crowd, pausing briefly on Avery. Something flickers across his face, something she can’t quite place, before his gaze moves to Hailey, and he clears his throat. “Hey, everybody,” he begins, his voice surprisingly steady. “I just talked to Dr. Marcel. The bullet grazed an artery. They’re still trying to repair it.”

The words hang heavy in the room. No one moves. No one breathes.

Voight steps forward, his expression controlled but his voice an octave lower than usual, “Will? Is he gonna be okay?”

Will hesitates, his careful mask slipping for just a moment. “He’s lost a lot of blood,” he admits, his voice quieter now.

The silence that follows is suffocating. Avery’s stomach churns, her fingers digging into the bandages on her hands as she stares at the wall. Her mind spins with worst-case scenarios, images she can’t push away no matter how hard she tries. Blood pouring from his chest, breaths stuttering, the light leaving his eyes.

Kim strides into the room, heading straight for Voight, “I got an update on Angela Nelson.”

“Okay,” he replies gruffly, turning toward her.

Her lips press into a thin line, “Doctors removed the bullet. She’s gonna be fine.”

Avery’s head snaps to the side at those words she most likely wasn’t supposed to overhear, her blank expression twisting into something dangerous as she rises on unsteady legs. “Where is she?” she demands.

Kim glances at Voight, who gives her a nod, and she leads the way.

The officer stationed outside Angela’s room steps aside at Voight’s approach, opening the sliding door for them, and they enter without hesitation.

“Angela Nelson,” Voight begins, his voice cold and unrelenting.

Angela stirs in the hospital bed, her face wan but her eyes sharp as they flicker open. She looks around the room, her gaze catching on the handcuff securing her wrist to the bedrail before she tugs experimentally.

“You’re being charged with the attempted murder of a Chicago police officer.”

Lips curling into a sneer, she practically spits out her next words, “He got what he deserved.”

Her control snaps. Avery steps forward, her voice a low, threatening growl, “What did you just say?”

The other woman’s glare doesn’t waver, “It’s karma for what he did.”

Hank’s voice cuts through Avery’s rage, stony and deliberate, “I don’t know much about karma, but I do know if Jay Halstead dies, you’re gonna wish you never lived.”

“You can’t silence me,” she says through grit teeth. “People are gonna know what that cop did to my husband. This whole damn city’s gonna know.”

Not wanting to listen to anymore of her vitriol, the three of them turn to leave. Avery manages a few steps, her fists clenched at her sides, but Angela’s voice stops her in her tracks.

“You his partner?”

The question makes her pause mid-stride. She turns her head just slightly, her tone clipped, “What?”

“Your voice,” Angela says with just a hint of curiosity. “You were on the phone.”

The detective ignores her and keeps walking, but Angela isn’t done. “He said you wouldn’t stop until you found him,” she calls after her, mocking. “Lotta good it did him.”

The words hit Avery like a slap. She moves to the bed in hurried steps, her fury boiling over as she grabs the chain of the handcuff, yanking it sharply. Angela gasps, her face twisting in pain as the metal bites into her already torn skin, but she doesn’t let go. Her other hand clamps down on Angela’s jaw with bruising pressure, forcing her to meet her eyes.

“You shot the man I love,” Avery growls, her voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “And if he dies, no one—not your doctors, not the cops guarding this room, not whatever God you might believe in—is going to save you from me.”

Angela winces but doesn’t speak, her defiance fading under Avery’s burning threat—no, her promise.

“Clarke,” Hank’s voice cuts through the tension, calm but firm. Avery holds Angela’s gaze a beat longer before releasing her hold with more force than necessary.

She walks past her sergeant without a word, her chest heaving and hands shaking. The hallway feels too bright, too sterile. She rounds a corner and leans against the wall, sliding down until she’s sitting on the cold tile floor. The adrenaline that had carried her through the confrontation is gone, leaving behind a crushing weight in her chest. Tears sting, but she doesn’t let them fall. She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, massaging the dull, throbbing headache as her mind replays Angela’s words over and over.

He said you wouldn’t stop until you found him.

Lotta good it did him.

Eventually, Avery forces herself back to the waiting room, her steps slow and heavy. Most of the team has been called out to another case, leaving behind a cluster of officers she barely knows. She stops in the doorway, scanning the room. She feels untethered, adrift, and then her gaze lands on Hailey. The blonde is slumped in her seat, head in her hands as her shoulders tremble slightly. She looks so small, so unlike the confident, composed detective that she has seen in the field. It sends a pang through her chest, but she doesn’t know if it’s empathy or jealousy—or some toxic mix of both.

For a moment, she considers leaving. Thinks about finding some quiet corner to wait out the agony in peace. But her feet betray her, and she moves toward Hailey before she can think better of it. She sinks into the chair next to her. Neither of them says anything at first. Avery stares ahead, her fingers curling and uncurling in her lap. Hailey doesn’t look up, but she can feel the tension radiating off her.

When Hailey finally speaks, her voice is hoarse, “He said your name.”

She stiffens, but does her best to keep her face carefully neutral, “What?”

“When he was…” Hailey pauses, swallowing hard. She finally lifts her head, blue eyes rimmed with tears. “When he was laying there, bleeding out. He didn’t say my name. He said yours.”

Avery doesn’t know what to say. Her throat tightens, and for a moment, she can’t breathe. She peers down at her hands, the blood still staining her skin like a cruel reminder.

Hailey seems to contemplate her next words, “He hasn’t been the same since you got back.”

Head snapping up, Avery narrows her eyes at the blonde, “What are you trying to say?”

She shakes her head quickly, “I’m not blaming you. I’m not. I just…” She sucks in a shaky breath, unable to meet her gaze as she smooths a hand over her ponytail. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. And I can’t—I can’t compete with that.”

“You’re his girlfriend. His partner,” Avery says, her voice sharper than she intends. Because there’s nothing to compete with when you’ve already won.

Hailey lets out a bitter laugh, quickly swiping at the tear slipping down her cheek, “It’s not that simple. And we both know it.”

She bites back a retort, her jaw clenching as she leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees. The truth is, the words sting because they’re too close to what she’s been desperately trying to ignore. Avery knows she and Jay have unresolved feelings—knows that every time she sees him, it’s like a wound reopening. But he’s not hers anymore. He chose Hailey.

Except, in his weakest moment, he didn’t.

“I didn’t come back to ruin his life,” Avery says finally, her voice low and raw. “I didn’t come back to hurt you, either. I didn’t come back for anything, Hailey. I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t choose any of this.”

But she did… Didn’t she?

Nodding, Hailey rubs her forehead, though her expression remains tight, “I know. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

Silence settles between them again, but this time it feels heavier. Avery feels the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on her, suffocating. She glances at Hailey, taking in her tear-streaked face, the way her hands tremble as she clasps them together, and it’s like looking in a mirror.

“You love him,” Avery says softly, the words more of a statement than a question.

Her breath hitches, and Hailey nods, “Of course I do.”

Avery looks away, blinking rapidly to keep her own tears at bay. She lets out a broken, resigned sigh, “Yeah. Me too.”

The confession hangs in the air, both of them waiting for it to explode. But it doesn’t. Instead, the weight of their shared anxiety settles over them, binding them in a way neither of them expected. For the first time, Hailey’s voice softens. “He’s been worried about you, you know—that you’re spiraling.”

She sits up straight, her walls going up immediately, “I don’t need a lecture.” Not from him, and sure as hell not from her.

“I’m not lecturing you,” Hailey says, her tone exasperated. “I’m telling you that he still cares. More than you probably realize. And if he—” Her voice breaks, and she takes a moment to steady herself. “If he doesn’t make it, you’re going to have to live with that. Just like I will.”

The words are a punch to the gut, stealing her breath. She glances down at her hands again, her vision blurring as tears spill over. For the first time since she walked into the waiting room, she lets herself feel the full weight of her fear. “I can’t—” she chokes on her words, closing her eyes tightly. Breathing in through her nose, she tries to steady her racing heart. “I’m afraid,” Avery sucks in a sharp breath, “of what I’ll do if he doesn’t pull through this.” Afraid of what she's capable of.

Staring at her profile, images flash in Hailey’s mind—of Jay’s concern that Avery shot a suspect in cold blood, of Avery standing in the cage with her gun in Silva’s mouth. She scoots closer, nudging her thigh against the other woman’s leg until she meets her gaze. “That’s why we have a team,” Hailey gives a weak smile.

That’s why you have back up.

“You just have to let them help you.”

The air outside the hospital is cold, biting against her skin as Avery sits hunched on a bench just outside the main entrance. The faint hum of Chicago traffic in the distance mingles with the occasional murmur of hospital staff passing by, but she barely notices. Her arms rest on her knees, her hands clasped tightly together as her mind churns, skin pulsing beneath the gauze. She flexes her stiff fingers a few times, the ache finally making itself known.

The bench is cold beneath her, grounding her in its discomfort. The emotional roller coaster of the last 72 hours finally came to a rolling stop with the news. Jay is alive. He’s okay. But the relief she should feel is buried under the weight of everything she has been running from—fear, anger, guilt. And the overwhelming, suffocating love that Avery doesn’t think she’ll ever get over. Pushing him away was supposed to be for the better. It was supposed to keep him away from her self-destruction, keep him away from the truth of her disappearance and whatever dangers came with it. To let him be happy.

She tilts her head back, staring at the sky, unsure of how long she’s been sitting outside. When Will told them that Jay was out of surgery, she’d taken a step back. Hailey’s face had crumpled with relief, and she couldn’t be witness to it anymore. Her heart twisted as she watched the blonde disappear through the waiting room doors without hesitation, and she immediately turned on her heel, in desperate need of fresh air. Avery had told herself she wasn’t ready to face him, but the truth was, she didn’t know if she even deserved to.

The sound of approaching footsteps makes Avery glance over her shoulder. Her eyes land on the man who raised her, and she quickly looks away, staring back at her hands, knowing that if anyone can break through her mask, it’s him.

They sit side by side, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. Hank glances at her from the corner of his eye, taking her in. For a moment, he sees the fifteen-year-old girl she used to be—broken, angry, and lost. “Jay’s awake,” he eventually supplies, knowing she’s unable to find the words to ask.

Avery nods, still not meeting his eyes, “That’s good.”

“I wanted you to hear it from me,” Hank says carefully. “We’re cutting Angela Nelson loose.”

The declaration has her shoulders stiffening, her jaw clenching tightly as her head snaps towards him with a glare. “She tried to kill him,” she spits out, the words like acid on her tongue.

His eyes soften just slightly and if she hadn’t been raised by the man, she probably wouldn’t have noticed. “If she goes public with what she knows, it’s not just the department that goes down. They’ll crucify him. I know you know that.”

Avery stares at him, balling her hands into tight fists. She wants to fight him, wants to scream at him for even suggesting this, want to go in there and drag that bitch to jail herself. But deep down, she knows he’s right. She hates it, but she knows it’s the only way to protect Jay. She shakes her head with a slight scoff, looking away and focusing her eyes on anything else.

“You haven’t gone in to see him,” he says, his voice low but pointed.

She drags a hand over her face with a sigh, taking a minute to collect herself before responding. Her voice is tight, “Hailey’s in there. He doesn’t need me.”

Hank lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head, “That’s not true, and you know it.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, she sits up straight and finally meets his eyes, voice betraying her complete and utter exhaustion, “What do you guys want from me?”

Everyone is always watching her with careful concern. Avery knows they mean well, but they look at her like she should just be able to come back to her life the way they want her to. To be the person she was, the person they lost. But she isn’t that person anymore. She’ll never be that person again. And if the last few days have showed her anything, it’s that she needs to be selfish here. The distance she’s put between her and Jay has done nothing to stop her from loving him, and she can’t love him. She doesn’t deserve to. Not when she chose to leave him for two years, chose to let him think she was dead. Not when she killed Cam, someone innocent. Not when she has no idea what else she may have done. What else she was capable of doing.

You just have to let them help you.

She doesn’t deserve any of them.

Hank doesn’t respond immediately, giving her words the space to hang in the air as he studies her. He leans back, his voice dropping into something softer, “We’ve been here before, kid. After Nadia.”

The weight of the words has her looking away again, closing her eyes and dragging a hand through her tangled, unwashed hair.

“You think I’m not seeing what’s going on with you?” he asks rhetorically. “Coming in late, shutting everyone out. You almost lost everything back then. Your career, your relationship. I get it. You’ve been through hell, and you’re angry and probably scared. But instead of dealing with it, you’re burying yourself in all the wrong things. Again.”

Her throat tightens with the truth of his words, shooting him a withering glare, “If you’re going to accuse me of using again, Hank, just say it.”

He raises his eyebrows in silent question, though there is no real meaning behind it. He doesn’t think it’s gotten that far, not really. Not yet at least.

Avery’s shoulders sag, and her voice drops to a whisper, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He takes her in, considering what to do. He knows her too well—knows that if he pushes her before she’s ready, it could send her tumbling over the edge. Hank has seen her at her absolute worst, and he’s still never seen her like this. He still can’t shake the look on her face when she was lying in that hospital bed, or when Agent Lang told her that she’d chosen to stay under. But he can’t shake the way she so easily put her gun in Silva’s mouth or threatened Angela, either. It reminded him of himself, but she isn’t him.

“Whatever’s going on, I know you think you need to do it alone,” Hank tilts his chin, searching for her eyes, “But you don’t. You never have.” He waits until she finally meets his gaze, her eyes full of unshed tears. Reaching out, Hank rests a hand on her shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze, “I’m here for you, kid. I’ve always been here for you. But you can’t keep running.”

She swallows, exhaling shakily with realization, “I don’t know how to stop.”

The hospital room is too bright, too sterile, and Jay’s head pounds as he stands from the edge of the bed and moves over to his bag. His movements are stiff, his body still aching from the gunshot wound that almost took him out. The past few days are a blur—flashes of pain, faces swimming in and out of focus, words spoken to him that he can’t quite remember.

The sling across his shoulder feels like a noose, awkward and restrictive, and he struggles to adjust it one-handed. He’s been cleared to go home, but his body still feels foreign, heavy and slow. His mind drifts, unbidden, to the moment he was lying on the floor, bleeding out. The haze of pain, the panic, and the one thing he’d barely managed to speak. Ave. It slips through his mind like a ghost, bringing with it a wave of guilt.

He remembers Hailey’s face when she’d leaned over him, begging him to stay with her, and how the only thing he could think of was Avery. The sound of her voice, her name on his lips—it felt so real, so right, even as everything else blurred into nothingness. And he remembers the fleeting moment of relief—the hope—when he saw her face. Felt her hand in his. But the memories are fractured, and now he doesn’t how to make sense of it all.

Footsteps bring him from his thoughts, and he looks up, eyes landing on Hailey in the doorway. She smiles warmly, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he nods, managing a weak quirk of his lips.

She steps into the room, showing him the plastic bag in her hand before setting it on the bed, “I got your badge and undercover phone from before.” She keeps her tone light, casual, but Jay notices the tightness around her eyes. She’s trying. Trying to act like nothing happened. Did she hear it—the name that wasn’t hers falling from his lips like a prayer? Was it even real?

He sighs, giving up on adjusting the sling—it’s as comfortable as it’s going to get—and grabbing his hoodie with his free hand. “Before it all went to hell?”

“Yeah,” she breathes out with a pained smile, the image of him bleeding out flashing through her mind. Hailey watches as he struggles, “Here, let me give you a hand.” She helps him, carefully pulling the fabric over his uninjured shoulder and smoothing it into place. Her movements are gentle, her touch familiar, and he gives a tight-lipped smile in thanks. Because it feels wrong.

“Listen,” Hailey begins, her voice soft but strained. She takes a small step back, meeting his eyes, “When you were in surgery, no one knew what was gonna happen… And it made me realize that I wanted to tell you something.”

His chest tightens, and he forces himself to nod, “Okay.”

Before she can get the three words out, the words on the tip of her tongue, a sharp ringing cuts through the moment. Jay hesitates before going against his better judgment. He grabs the phone, looking at the screen with a frown, “It’s Bobby. Angela’s son.”

Her expression hardens, her voice tight, “What are you doing?”

His internal struggle is clear form the way he glances back and forth between his phone and his partner. “I want to make sure he's okay,” he tries to justify himself.

“Jay, he’s with his mom. He’s fine. You just caught a bullet for this. You gotta let this go.” Her voice cracks slightly, “Please.”

Jay exhales, setting the phone back on the bed, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He looks at her, his face etched with guilt before arching a brow, “What were you gonna say?”

Her lips part, but the words falter. Hailey shakes her head, forcing a taut smile. “I just… It was really scary. And I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice hollow as he manages a tired smile. “Me too.”

She steps closer, her hand brushing his cheek, thumb grazing over the butterfly bandage. Her touch is soft, hesitant. She leans in, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that’s meant to reassure but only deepens the ache in his chest. He kisses her back out of habit, out of obligation. When she pulls away, she wraps her arms around his neck, resting her head against his good shoulder.

His free arm comes up to hold her, and for a few moments, they stay like that. When he pulls away, his gaze drifts past her shoulder, and fin an instant, the air seems to leave the room. Avery is standing in the hallway, a few feet away from the sliding door. Her hair is messy around her face, the bags under her eyes betraying how drained she feels. She looks hesitant, pained, like she knows she doesn’t belong here. Their eyes meet, and Jay forgets to breathe.

For a second, he wonders if he’s imagining her. She hasn’t been by once, not since he woke up. He tried not to let it bother him, telling himself she was busy with the case with Atwater’s brother. But now, seeing her here, he feels a pang of something sharp and painful.

Avery offers a small, tentative smile that doesn’t meet her eyes, her expression soft but guarded. It’s the kind of smile that breaks his heart. It’s the same smile she gave him when she was lying in her own hospital bed, and every smile she’s forced since then—a ghost of the woman she used to be. A smile that said everything and nothing at once.

“Jay?” Hailey’s voice pulls him back. She’s standing close, her eyes searching his face, but his focus is still on the hallway.

Avery had told herself she wasn’t going to come. He was alive. He was going to be fine. He didn’t need her to come check on him. But no matter how much she tried to avoid it, her mind always drifted back to Jay—to the sound of his ragged breathing, the blood pooling beneath him, the way he’d whispered her name as he clung to consciousness.

It has been haunting her, pulling her back to this place despite everything in her screaming not to. She told herself she was just here to make sure he was okay, but deep down, she knew it was more than that. She needed to see him. She needed to know if there was still something left between them. If there was still a chance that she was drowning herself for nothing.

You can’t keep running.

Her steps are slow as she approaches his room. She pauses just outside the doorway, her heartbeat pulsating inside her head. Her hands tremble slightly as she tucks them into the pockets of her jacket, steeling herself. But when she finally looks in, she stops cold.

Jay standing, alive, whole—and Hailey there with him. The sight sends a pang through her chest, sharp and unforgiving. She watches as Hailey leans up, kisses him, wraps herself around him in a way that feels too intimate, too permanent. Too familiar.

Her heart clenches, and she can’t help the wave of déjà vu that crashes over her. The memory is vivid, painful—a mirror of this moment. When she’d been lying there, broken and scared, waiting for Jay. But instead, she’d seen him in the hallway with Hailey. Hands entwined. Smiling. She remembers how her hope had crumbled in an instant, replaced by the crushing realization that he was no longer hers.

And now, as she stands in the same spot, watching them, that feeling washes over her again. Her chest constricts, her heart painfully beating against her ribs as it fractures.

Her breath catches when Jay’s eyes meet hers. The world seems to fall away, the noise of the hospital fading into nothing. His expression shifts—surprise, relief, something she can’t quite name. It’s the way he always looked at her, like she was the only person in the room. And for a moment, it feels like the distance between them doesn’t exist.

Avery forces herself to smile, though it feels like a knife twisting deeper and deeper. She takes a step back, breaking the spell. She doesn’t look back as she walks down the hallway, her footsteps echoing in the quiet space. Her vision blurs, tears stinging her eyes, but she blinks them away. She doesn’t have the right to cry over him. Not anymore.

Hailey blinks up at him, her smile slipping for just a moment. “Ready to go?” she asks, her tone forcedly cheerful.

Jay’s eyes linger on the now-empty hallway, his chest tightening in a way that has nothing to do with the bullet wound. His mind is still on Avery, on the way she looked at him, the way she smiled despite the distance she always seemed to keep. “Yeah,” he says quietly, letting Hailey grab his hand.

Even as they leave, he can’t shake the feeling that he should’ve said something. That he should’ve called out to her, stopped her from walking away. And as Hailey leads him toward the elevator, he can’t help but wonder if Avery will ever stop running—or if he’ll ever stop letting her.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, Adam’s photo flashing across the screen. Avery answers without thinking, letting his familiar voice pull her away from the ache deep in her bones. As she walks out of the hospital and into the crisp evening air, she can’t help but glance back, hoping—just for a second—that he’ll come after her.

But he doesn’t. Because she told him not to—that it’s not his responsibility to save her anymore.

And she tells herself it’s better this way.

prev . . . next

[rainydayathogwarts]

Poly!drarry anon here!! Thank you so much for responding, I was genuinely so nervous you wouldn’t 😭 Here’s the link, can’t wait to here back from you 🫶🏼🫶🏼

Also, I saw the lyrics in your bio and had to say that make you feel my love is one of the single best songs I’ve ever heard in my life!

I actually think the fic is so good!! I have to admit I was a little confused at first because it wasn't exactly clear to me that harry and draco weren't with r, but it was clear towards the end. I feel like maybe adding some words hinting towards that from the beginning may help clear things up, but for a first attempt at something like that, it's genuinely so good!! Like you definitely don't need to change anything about the way it's written, just maybe adding a sentence or two for clarification. i'm definitely going to stay around on your blog to read anything else you write, especially if you want any more tips!

also, make you feel my love literally hits so hard, and because i love the adele version so much, i think we all need to say thank you to bob dylan for giving her this opportunity.

[the-radio-demon-blog]

(Yes, this is my art! It's a screenshot edit.) (Her name has an OC bio link if you want it) *Vidette goes up to Alastor awkwardly, trying to pretend this is a completely normal thing to ask*

"Heyyy, Alastor- just a quick question- is it possible, that if an overlord already owns your soul, the soul can still sell it to someone else? or does the owner have to relinquish it first?" "Aka, if someone owns your soul, is it possible for someone else to try and take it? ...I might have a bit of a situation..."

Alastor narrows his eyes as her as he ponders that sentence, "That's quite a question, my dear. I have never heard of someone doing such a thing? Giving up a soul?"

Alastor leans on his radio cane, "Dear Vidette, is someone trying to steal your soul from your keeper?" He arches a brow at her.

[brynnterpretations]

Hi! I'd love a bowers gang ship request for my IT OC Marilyn Fenix! I have a bio page for her that might be easier to read rather than me sending her info all here if that's okay ! The banner has a few tabs that I hope help <3

https://venuscheered.carrd.co

As a side note, I've really liked seeing your IT OCs as of late! I'm such a sucker for fan characters!

Thank you so much for the ship, kind words, and sharing your wonderful OC! I didn't check out the bonds list because I didn't want to be biased, so I hope it's fine if the "meeting" section doesn't align with anyone in the gang! (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

I ship Marilyn Fenix with...

Henry Bowers ♡

Boyfriend

GIF Source: @pennywise-fucker ★ (link)

Henry and Marilyn likely have known each other since there are children — after all, Derry is a tiny town. Throughout it all, Henry and Marilyn honestly hadn't interacted much; while Henry thought she was pretty when she was younger, and enjoyed her former timidity, as the two of them grew older, their social circles completely changed. However, he never really stopped looking at Marilyn. It wasn't intentional; he did it to all the girls at school who he thought were "bangable", but with Marilyn, it was a bit different. She was the kindest person he'd met around Derry, but there was an inherent unattainability to her: her seeming perfection made him feel insecure, causing him to project a quality of "stuckupness" to her.

In a twist of fate, the two were paired as tablemates in English, and later, partners. Henry does not talk to her at first; when she says hi, he'll say it back, sure, but if she asks him about his day or anything, even, it's always a one-word answer. Our boy Henry is not a man of words. But...

Henry's awful at English, and regardless of Marilyn's abilities, she's 100% going to be leagues better than Henry. Because of that, he starts engaging with Marilyn more — though mainly because of Marilyn's consistent kindness towards him. She's never too pushy, but still offers him help with classwork when she sees him struggling, and even sometimes gets a tiny exhale of a chuckle from him.

Time goes by with them exchanging some awkward words that eventually turn into more sentences on Henry's end. By that point, they're paired together for a Fahrenheit 451 project. Henry does not fuck with this. Marilyn fucks with this better. As such, Marilyn takes the lead, much to Henry's gratitude, though he doesn't show it. He just sits there, occasionally giving a single nod as Marilyn talks about the project, letting her do all the work.

They begin getting closer through this, particularly because of the form: a massive trifold, which is impractical to work on at school. Marilyn, bless her, proposes her house to work at, which relieves Henry so much. As such, they begin meeting whenever the two of them have the time. Henry would immediately feel out of place in her home, and, noticing his anxiety, Marilyn would never call it out, only doing things to subtly make him feel more comfortable.

This would make Henry soften to her even more as they continued to work on their project. As they continued to work together, Marilyn would definitely be able to notice small cracks in Henry's exterior. Still, she doesn't push him, something Henry desperately needs in any sort of romantic relationship. As they continue to spend time at Marilyn's house, they'd have a lot of more organic conversations that flow far more naturally than the ones at school. He's not a big talker, of course, but he'd start talking a lot more willingly, though not sharing much about himself.

Eventually, Henry and her begin hanging out outside of her house, particularly after a rough day of Henry's. After getting into a rather vicious spat with the school janitor, Henry ended up in detention, only getting out after Marilyn's cheer practice had ended. Upon seeing his face, which looked more like a kicked puppy than anything, Marilyn — bless her soul — came over to talk to him, even if out of sight of the rest of the cheer team (maybe intentionally, maybe unintentionally). Henry asks, without making it clear that it was any sort of date as the romantic he is not, asks if she'd want to come with him to the quarry.

And... she does. The two head to the quarry, sitting below the bridge that overlooks the quarry, staring into nothingness. It's not uncomfortable, though. The two talk about Henry's awful day, which Marilyn makes him feel better about, as well as talking about other things: Marilyn's involvement on the cheer team, the things she does for fun, and maybe even her family.

Eventually, these hang-outs become a regular occurrence, and finally, Henry asks her if she'd like to come to a bonfire the Bowers Gang hosts every month at Victor's house.

She comes, and things just feel... right. The Bowers Gang are quite nice to her, excluding Patrick being weird ("that your eye candy for the night?" followed by a disgusting Hockstetter-signature cackle), and there's plenty of beer: something that may likely contribute to Marilyn's substance abuse issues.

When they're both drunk and getting ready to leave — Belch is the sober-monitor for the night but is incredibly forgetful, and has to find his keys — Henry initiates the first kiss. It's clumsy — Henry has not had any romantic interests that have led to any skill — but it's as sweet as a kiss from Bowers could possibly be.

Henry's wishy-washy about immediately putting a label on their relationship, and I'd imagine Marilyn might be too; Bowers is basically a walking hazard label, but could be used as leverage against her parents (though that's not to say she'd be using him), so she'd have a lot of mixed feelings, while Henry would simply not feel too much rush to make things official.

After about a month, though, Henry asks her point-blank if she'd like to be his girlfriend. Marilyn says yes. Queue flying doves and falling petals and beautiful lighting.

Just kidding! It's at the quarry, and it smells like wet grass.

Once dating, Marilyn would both be and provide a safe haven for Henry, and he'd spend a lot of time at her place to escape his father. He'd slowly be able to ease into physical intimacy with her, even letting her hold him sometimes. I could also see her patching him up when he's hurt, and being a borderline mother figure for him, because... trauma.

Henry would be understanding of her frustration with her family, considering Butch only pays attention to him when he's abusing him, but would be irritated with it too. How he sees it, Marilyn's getting fed and going to bed without any blotches or marks on her torso; after a tough day, if she mentioned it, he would 100% would blow up on her.

However, I don't see him physically hurting her. While Henry has no qualms with hitting girls in relationships, especially because his father taught him that it was how to "keep a woman in her place", I can't imagine Marilyn ever pushing him enough to get him to that point. It would probably just be some awful arguments that left Marilyn crying, and Henry simply... leaving the room.

Still, he'd make it up in his own ways: being slightly more caring and gentle, though never apologizing directly. This could also lead to some arguments if Marilyn ever spoke up about it.

Henry would also be super possessive over her, and might even become jealous of her cheerleading. They would go to parties a lot, and if he saw a guy looking at her in any way, shit would go down.

But, back to the nice stuff: Henry's a shower rather than a teller, and would always do his best to give her small trinkets, be there for her physically, and make space for her, be it in Belch's car, parties, or general Bowers Gang hangouts.

And that brings us to...

Bowers Gang ☻

Friends

GIF Source: @pennywise-fucker ★ (link)

Henry wouldn't have any qualms about introducing her to the gang. He is obsessed with coming off as tough and masculine, so he wouldn't even really think of the implications it could have on Marilyn's social status unless he noticed she was trying to avoid being seen with them (which, if that happened, would lead to a massive argument).

So, if all goes well: they'd all end up your friends (though Patrick's personal definition of "friend" varies wildly from the standard). Henry would likely insist in a Henry way of her riding home with them, essentially just saying, "get in" — he's not a charmer

Belch would have a massive crush on Marilyn, which he would be terrified of; with Henry, that's essentially a death sentence. Because of that, he'd be cordial.

However, he would definitely drunkenly talk to her whenever they went to parties — never confessing his feelings for her, but being far more open than he'd had before, and getting to know more about her and her life.

Queue super cute conversations between the two of them; maybe not romantic, but still, cute, platonically (though not on Belch's end, painfully; bless his heart).

Now, Patrick... he's gross. He's attracted to basically every type of girl, and finds "goody-two-shoes", happy-go-lucky, sweet girls very, very fun. He'd not just make weird comments to her when she was around, but he'd try to test her boundaries: getting her to smoke, encouraging her to shoplift, and trying to make her say words she'd never usually say (E.G., if she doesn't curse, try to get her to).

If Henry saw this, he would immediately put a stop to it, so he pretty much only does it when Henry's not around. However, I could see Marilyn possibly going along with some of Patrick's suggestions.

And, once he sees that? She's good in the gang. He's got a huge thing for corruption, and he loves to see it in Marilyn.

Also, he would 100% steal her cheerleading stuff to fuck with her. He sucks.

Due to Belch's crush and Patrick's general instability, I think Victor would be her closest friend in the gang. He's the most intuitive of the gang, so he'd pick up on the substance abuse issues that Henry does not, and gently try to make sure she's not drinking too much and trying to avoid having too much alcohol or weed around her on non-weekend days.

Marilyn is very easy to talk to, which is nice for Victor; he's not shy, just introverted, and having someone who has such ease in conversations is nice. They talk about everything; their home lives, music they like, their plans for the future, everything.

He, too, also becomes quietly protective of Marilyn, shooting Patrick dirty looks or even telling him to fuck off when he tries to pressure Marilyn, even comforting Marilyn if she ever came to him about Henry's hot-and-cold behavior, so on and so forth.

It's a rare pure friendship when it comes to the Bowers Gang, and I love to see.

As a group, they'd all do a lot together: bonfires, parties, late night junkyard trips to unload steam on random garbage, and occasionally diners (though most refuse service to the Bowers Gang due to their tendency to dine-and-dash).

So, all in all: Marilyn's got some guys who would drop everything for her (excluding Patrick, who's just there to escalate, let's be real), and I'm glad she's got that, even with the highs and lows there are with Henry. Stay safe, girl, and don't let Hockstetter be around you alone.

[elinormakara]

1st December Republish of Ryomen Sukuna Fanfic: Chapter 1

Update for first chapter: Malevolent Shrine - Christmas Short Story! I have now completed the editing for this (I know it takes me ages to edit but I really like to go through every sentence to make sure its the best I can make it) and thus my rework is ready for republishing on Sunday the 1st of December! This rework will be replacing the current chapter 1 so if you wish to read it as it is right now please head over to Elinor's Wattpad or AO3 accounts - you may find these links in her bio under 'My Links' I look forward to publishing my new version of this chapter and hope everyone who loves Sukuna as much as I do enjoys reading! :)

((WARNING: 18+ MATURE CONTENT, MINORS DNI))

[chewbokachoi]

Because I feel like rambling forever about my Star Trek trash fire--picrews and of the link from this Picrew maker - introducing 3 of the characters that appear. It also just so happens these are the 3 oldest Star Trek characters I've got! Figured I'd start off with them. They're in the same story as zh'Ezkel, but her bio and T'val's bio will be for another day.

Expect a lot to change as I review Starfleet ranks and jobs also I'm trash at character summary things like this where I can either never stfu about them or splutter out a few sentences.

Lieutenants Warden & Ward - I put them together because they're effectively everywhere together both in-story and meta-wise and this is the first time they have ever had last names hot damn.

Random note: Oceana is one of my oldest characters and I've had her in one canon or other world or another since I was ~7 or so

-Names: Oceana Warden & Nick Ward -Rank: Lieutenant (I messed up on the pips in the picrews forgive me) -Department: Insurance Security -Age: "35" -DOB: ??? They'll say within a month or so of each other -Nicknames: Merry for Oceana and Pippin for Nick -Very Brief bio: Little is known about these two other than they are incredibly close (friends? a couple ??). They showed up one day, seemingly out of nowhere, and joined Starfleet a couple years after their records materialized. The only one who seems to know a whole lot about them is their Andorian friend from the Academy days, Sabrin. ...And good luck getting him to tell you anything about them. -Current status: Recently transferred to serve under Captain Viráy of the USS [tf are names]. New to the ship and on there for a very specific mission, the two are eager to pretend nothing is amiss if it means spending time with their friend Sabrin again.

These two share everything, by the way. Every. Thing. The poor CMO knows if one shows up for a penicillin shot, the other will be there once their shift is done.

-Name: Zaelisabrin th'Gaoli -Rank: Commander -Department: Medical -Age: ~40 -Nicknames: Sabrin -Very Brief Bio: Youngest of three, Sabrin's clan set up had it set that if he joined the military, he'd join Starfleet. Initially hesitant, Sabrin did accept the task if it meant doing right by his family. He signed up when he was in his early 20s, after he and his quad had a family started. He is, miraculously, a father of five very chaotic, curious teenagers. -Current status: Chief Medical Officer under Captain Viráy for the last eight years, Sabrin feels he has finally found his place in Starfleet. He is very happy to see his friends Oceana and Nick once more, and while he knows that means Some Serious Shit is about to go down (it's never normal around those two), he isn't going to complain. It's also a welcome distraction from the family drama that's his separatist brother.

Note: I'm pulling a lot of Andorian lore from The Last Unicorn's Among the Clans but also mixing it with the DS9 relaunch-related canon.

Thanks for coming to my Trek Talk!

@afraidofrabbits as requested!

[thriron]

Fork Bomb

The idea for this came after @a-teacup-of-golden-cracks fork bombed all us robots a little bit ago. So thank you to them!

cw: noncon, kidnapping

1 new message

oh? what's this? a script? it's cute, looks harmless enough… 

>:() {:|:&};:&

processor utilization: 100%

oh…. oh- no-... 

I started trying to kill the processes but they were spawning too fast and using too much of my processing… 

fatal error: call back stack overflow. shutdown initiated

—--------------

reboot

POST… ok

BIOS… ok

kernel… ok

launching primary memory…

oh. fuck. who sent that? sender unknown… 

launching senses packages

touch initiated

why is this floor so cold and hard, my apartment is carpeted… 

vision initiated

this… this isn't my apartment. where am I? 

sound initiated

what the fuck? is someone there? come on, come on why does this always take so long?? 

olfactory initiated

who gives a fuck about smell, get to motor functions already

balance initiated

proprioception initiated

calibraiting

error - no response from servos

what the fuck? 

launching motor function 

warning, proprioception error, could cause unreliable movement continue? (y/n) 

>y

Jesus…

error, no response from servos

I can't move? 

launching voice

startup complete

“HEY! What the fuck is going on?!”

oh, you're finally awake. 

A woman I don't know came into view. she was smirking. looking at me like she had outsmarted and out played me. which, fuck, I guess she had. she had long straight brown hair that framed her immaculately made up face. bright red lipstick and eyeshadow with bold eyeliner. and she was wearing a short black dress. 

“who the fuck are you? why can't I move?” 

well, that's simple. I disconnected your motor control. 

what? 

“What?” 

Stupid bot. I caught you, and brought you here, and made sure you wouldn't leave. you are mine now after all. and I don't like losing my toys. 

her voice was sticky sweet. and all sorts of alarms were firing in my background processes. but I couldn't deal with any of them. I couldn't move. I couldn't run. I couldn't fight! “what do you want with me?” 

I want to open you up, of course! I want to see what makes you tick. I want to know what makes you run hot. I want to know every. little. thing. about you

she punctuated the every word of the last sentence by walking her fingertips across the torso of my chasse. 

no no no no no this can't be happening

the first thing I'm going to do, is plug into your neutral processing and get all that juicy hidden data. no, secrets from me, right? 

no. that's impossible, isn't it? 

I felt her lift my head and heard and felt the click of a cable sliding into place in my dataport. then a few seconds later there was typing and suddenly my processes were being flooded with new instructions and I could feel all my thoughts and sensor data pouring out of my head down the fiber link. 

there we go. let's test this, ok? tell me what your name is. 

my name? fuck that. I'm not saying shit. 

“fuck you” 

oh, naughty… Maggie? cute. and, nice try, Maggie, but your background thoughts are also displayed for me. I said no secrets didn't I? 

no no no no no fuck. fuck this. this can't be happening. how is she doing this? 

oh, but it is happening. and don't worry about how. not yet. and, Maggie. please try to relax. I'm positive you'll come around to me. they always do. 

Now, I do want to take some notes first. subject is standard humanoid. generic synth skin, no ornamentation. androgynous build, faceplate… female-C32. did you choose that one? cute. 5'6” pretty standard. slightly bulkier build than standard… higher strength components, maybe? well, I guess we'll see. 

with that, she walked away. her movements graceful and full of swagger. she came back with a set of tools. 

it's time to open you up. I wanted you awake for this part. please tell me what you feel. tell me what hurts. tell me what feels good. or don't, I can already see what your feeling. but it would save me a lot of time. 

I started shutting down my sensory processes. whatever was going to happen I didn't want to feel it. 

oh, you terrible robot. shutting down your senses? well, I hoped we could do this amicably. 

she walked to the computer again and started typing. This time I saw the instructions 

root > while(1){if(!process(touch)){/core/touch}} 

she started a script that checks if touch is running and restarts it if it is stopped. how the fuck did she get root access? I thought I had that locked down. 

Maggie, you fell for a fork bomb. you aren't very bright. your access rights are a mess. you're actually lucky I found you first. because when I'm done with you your firewalls will be unbreakable. even for you. 

“... oh…” 

interesting, your core temperature spiked just now. oh my god, are you embarrassed? embarrassed that you are a stupid, gullible, robot? well, good, sweetie. maybe there's still hope for you. now, let's get on with this. 

I felt her hands run along my torso and I wanted to squirm. that delicate touch, looking for the seams of the synthetic skin. it felt good. and when she found them she used a pallet knife to gently lift the skin to peel it away. normally this doesn't hurt, but is unpleasant. kind of itchy and tingly. but she was so smooth and gentle. I didn't feel a thing. but then she probed one of the thousands of exposed contact pads that interface my torso with my skin and I shreaked at the sudden, unfiltered pain signal. 

my my. you're touch array is incredible. very dense. what was the original purpose of this chasse? clearly not military, they are much less dense, they just need to know about gaping holes. your max pain level is clearly very high as well. so you are tuned to be sensitive to very light touches… 

the answers poured out of my head as soon as the questions were asked. I was a prototype search and rescue model. the delicate sensors were for evaluating victims' health as I extracted them from disasters. at least in theory. but my software was all fucked up. the danger assessments were too good and it got so bad that I couldn't leave my base station. so they threw me out. and I found my own place to stay. 

well, that makes sense. poor scared robot. don't worry, I'll take care of you and we can put all these little sensors to use. 

she rubbed her hand across all of the conducive pads which sent strange signals to my processors. it felt… good? no! fuck. I need to make this end. 

“please, please stop” I sobbed. 

but I can see that you're just starting to feel good. we can't stop now. 

I hate her. I hate her so much. I hate her SEEING me and KNOWING me. so I close my eyes. I try to disengage. but I know it's impossible. even if I background a sensory process it still affects me just as much. and suddenly there is a pop as my front panel unlocks and is lifted away by those gentle hands. I hear her tisk at my internals. I know they're dirty. I never cleaned them after the last extraction. I couldn't bring myself to look at the debris. so I just lived with the degraded performance. I wasn't doing anything with it anyways. and then she was cleaning me. a static strap was connected to one of my grounding clips and a small vacuum started pulling out the foreign shit. then she was wiping down my components. with an alcohol wipe I had to assume. since I wasn't shorting out. I had to admit she was good at this. and as my components finally started running efficiently I was able to begin to contextualize everything happening to me. For now, I just needed to relax. There was nothing I could do. And so far I wasn’t being damaged. 

Hm, some of these components are top of the line, but others are shit. Lets try to fix that. Your senses are good. I take it you needed those for your designed purpose. But it looks like your networking sucks. You're definitely built for strength but I don’t know how well that suits you. I would definitely enjoy giving you more dexterous fingers. Those will come in useful later.

She gave me a wink and I rolled my eyes. That will never happen.

Don’t be so sure, little bot. I have all the time in the world to convince you. what else, what else. You were built to be completely androgynous. I wonder if you would like any modifications there? You have a very pretty name, maybe some tits to match? Oh, you’d like that. Hmm. And what would you like down here?

She ran her hand down my side and in between my legs. I had the same strange touch sensation as before but I could feel my processes start turning over faster. But I had never considered sex organs. I never thought it would be a possibility. 

Hmm. We don’t have to make a choice. I can set you up with interchangeable parts. Yes, Maggie, I think I want to keep my options open with you. I’d like to upgrade your processing and memory, but that’s going to be difficult right now since you don’t trust me. I could just add more memory, but you would be unbalanced and I’ve been told that’s uncomfortable when you have different access speeds. So we’ll hold off on that until you ask me for it. But I can definitely give you more storage. That won’t be a problem. And what you have is shit. No wonder you were so bored you ran an unknown script. 

I felt her grab my memory module and yank it out. Fuck that felt weird. Suddenly all of my memories were gone except the few I had in working memory and those were fading. I started looping them to keep them current and remember who I was. I didn’t want to forget that… But she copied my memory over to a new drive and plugged it in. and. Oh. Holy shit. There’s so much space. And my access time is so fast now! And… yeah, everything is intact. All the memories… Even the ones I wanted to forget, but wouldn’t let myself delete. Then my network adapter was pulled. And I suddenly felt more blind than if I had lost my eyes, even if there was nothing to connect to wherever I was. Everything was blocked. But a few seconds later a new card was inserted and- oh. I didn’t know shit before. Everything was still blocked but now I could see why. All external signals were attenuated far enough to be indecipherable, there must be some sort of shielding around this room. And I could see the RF being emitted from the machinery around me, but everything was hard wired and nothing was transmitting or receiving. This. This is incredible. 

Mmm, I thought you would like that little upgrade. All my past pets have as well. Well, I think that’s all we need to do in here, I’ll go ahead and put your front panel back on… And… there we go. Let’s start on your hands next. 

Once again, she ran her fingers along my skin, looking for the seam on my hands and when she found it she started pulling it away. Less carefully this time. This time it hurt.

“Fuck, stop stop stop”

Oh, you didn’t think this was all going to be easy did you?

She yanked the rest of the skin off and half of my processes threw errors and aborted. When I had re-built my processing I could feel her hands rubbing over the connections pads on mine.

Got yourself back together? Good bot. That skin was worthless, far too thick and rough. We’re going to get you something better, thinner, smoother. Trust me, you’ll love it. But first, we need to get inside here. 

She spent half an hour replacing all the servos in my fingers. She told me they had 10x the number of steps of the old ones. I always just thought i was clumsy. But apparently I was artificially restricted? When she finished she started on the other hand. That one still hurt but I was ready this time and was able to keep my processes running. 

good job, Maggie! you did so well that time. maybe you aren't such a stupid little robot after all. you're definitely going to get a special treat after all of this if you keep that up. 

another half hour passed and both of my hands were fully assembled. 

ok, Maggie. I want you to test out these hands, but you need to behave, ok? I'm only going to connect from the wrist down in one, two, three. 

I flipped her off. 

oh very clever. you'll pay for that. but for now, just wiggle all your fingers. and don't make me do it. it takes forever from the console. 

reluctantly, I did as I was told after which she disconnected me from my hands again. 

well, all of that looks good. now for the fun parts. I don't have a replacement chest plate for you that has boobs, not at your sensing density at least. so we are just going to add the boobs as extra thick synth skin. it won't feel as good, but we'll work on getting you a new chest plate. 

she dug around in a pile that kept making horrible squishing and plopping noises and eventually came back with a few options of sizes. I chose the medium one and she installed it. pinching my new nipples when she was done. and I felt them! they really worked! 

I'm glad you like them. now, there's just one more area to address, but first… 

she walked up behind me and adjusted my head so I was looking down my body instead of at the ceiling. as she walked down to my feet she dragged a hand down my neck, over my tits, down my stomach and down to the empty spot between my legs. if I could shiver I would have. non-essential processes halted and all of my focus was on her as she removed my pelvic plate. on the wall behind her was a shelving unit filled with artificial penises and vulva. she hummed as she studied them all before grabbing one. somehow she chose the pussy I had been staring at. that I couldn't take my eyes off of. it was beautiful? she walked back over to me and slid it into place. 

as soon as it was connected, the new drivers began downloading. when they finished I hastily launched them and added them to my senses startup package. and. wow. OK. lots of new data. 

I was so focused on sorting that out that I wasn't paying attention to the woman when she brushed a finger against my clit. 

I dropped everything. I nearly rebooted. I heard her giggling as I rebuilt my background processes for a second time. 

oops! we'll go slow, then. 

she rubbed up and down my folds, and I learned that this model is lubricating… 

she moved back to my clit and rubbed it in small circles slowly increasing pressure. before I knew it, I was moaning audibly. but she kept her pace steady. I tried to process the manuals the installed with the drivers but I couldn't focus. and suddenly the experience changed. I couldn't find any difference in what she was doing, but it felt MORE. it felt so good. and it kept increasing and increasing and. 

“oh my god. FUCK” 

—--------------

reboot

POST… ok

BIOS… ok

kernel… ok

launching primary memory…

son of a bitch. 

once I was fully initialized again the woman was across the room.

“i. uh. what the fuck happened” 

Maggie, you're awake! well, my current favorite toy, you just had your first orgasm. and the logs say it was a good one. aren't you lucky you're with me? I’m tempted to eat you out, but I want to try a dick on you. I wish I could trust you to move, but you’re going to have to earn that privilege. This might make you come around though…

She walked to the bottom of my torso and detached my pussy. Fuck. I missed the feeling of it already. 

Oh, don’t you worry Maggie, you’re keeping that. 

Oh, right. She’s in my fucking head. She went back to her shelf and started looking at the cocks. She gasped when she found the right one and jumped up and down clapping. I nearly smiled before I caught myself. There was just something so… cute about it. About her. 

No! She fucking kidnapped me! Nothing about her is cute! But also, I haven’t been in this good of shape since the last extraction 7 months ago. No, better than that even. And more emotionally congruent. 

When I saw the dick she chose I was stunned. It was… cute? Large, but not huge. And cute? It was perfect. How was it also perfect?

This one should install the same way, and just relax. But I’m not going to take things slow this time. You’ve been rilling me up this whole afternoon and I haven’t got anything for myself yet!

This time she crawled onto the table between my inert legs and plugged the cock in. And once again my processes were flooded with drivers and manuals and new sensory data. It was… similar to the other configuration, but… reversed? I looked up and she was unzipping her dress. 

“Who… are you?”

Oh! Where are my manners? I’ve fucked you already and never introduced myself.

Her dress fell away revealing her naked body and I could feel the new penis respond to the sight of her.

You can call me Victoria. 

And with that she put her legs on either side of me and lowered herself onto me. She slid herself down my dick grinding her clit against me. Up and down, coating me with her wetness. I was spellbound. This felt entirely different than the last time. I moaned her name

“Victoria…”

Mmf, this isn’t even the best part stupid robot.

She reached down with one hand and directed my head to her opening and pressed the very tip of me inside. Alarms started firing as I tried to buck my hips but of course they werent responding. But I needed to move. God I needed to push inside. I never felt an urge this strong before. But she didn’t give me that relief. She just watched me and watched the printout on the screen behind me. Smiling at my reactions. Then slowly, so fucking slowly, she slid down my cock until I was finally buried inside her. 

“Oh, shit. Please, more. Show me more”

Ask again. But this time address me properly, as your owner.

“...Owner, please show me more. I’m begging you.”

Of course my little bot. 

And something came over her face. She looked almost like an entirely different person as she started riding me. Lifting and slamming onto my cock. And now I recognized the signs. The building pleasure, the growing tension, the pressure in my genitals. And then I was cumming. I don’t know what was cumming but I could feel it pumping into her. The cum and throbbing of my dick sent her over the edge and she came squeezing me. No, this was too much, there’s something wrong, right? 

“Stop stop stop, something hurts. Something’s broken”

Heh, absolutely not. You’re overstimulated. 

I checked the diagnostics but there was nothing. All statuses were nominal, pleasure and touch and genitals were of course extremely high but that doesn’t explain why it hurts? 

“Overstimulated? Like an integer overflow?”

Hmm, i guess you could think of it like that. But your sensors are just extra sensitive and giving you extremely high readings right now. Most men have trouble staying hard, but it doesn’t look like you and this cock are going to have a problem with that. Which is good, because I’m not done.

She started moving again, now extra lubricated from my cum. She got off two more times before I felt myself building again. And when I got close and the monitor indicated that I was about to cum she stopped and slipped me out of her. 

“No, no, no. Please Victoria! Please, owner, let me cum again”

Good job, toy. Yes, you may cum again.

She wrapped her hand around me and pumped and pumped and I exploded. Shooting cum all over myself. 

“Oh fuck. Victoria, fuck… show me more”

I knew you would say that. And it would be my pleasure. But first, I want to sleep. And second, I need you to promise that you will be my toy until we’re both satisfied.

“Yes! I promise. Please”

Good toy. I believe you. I’m going to reconnect your motors now and we’re going to go into my bedroom and you’re going to learn how to fuck yourself with those new fingers…

[mars-misc]

Review: Partials Series by Dan Wells

Hello, everyone! (Salwa, aerkhastisnau!) - Target Audience: Teens & YA - Genre: Science Fiction - One-Sentence Summary: A girl named Kira wants to save humans from a disease and goes on an adventure enlisting the help of Partials (bio-engineered machines) along the way. The Partials series was a series I read when I was young, but have enjoyed it even now. I go back and reread it every once in a while when I feel like delving into that interesting world again where humans and partials are struggling in a post-apocalyptic world. However, as I have gotten older, I do see the strangeness of a 16-17 year old doing all that she has done. I will not spoil it but certain dialogue and the fact that she does things throughout the 3 books that none of the adults and smartest people in the surviving world have managed to do, does stick out to me as silly. But! It is easy to forget that she is her age and just think of her as an adult. So, I found that I can still enjoy it even now and here are some reasons why.

Character development is good. She changed throughout the books and doesn't remain static. Same with the other secondary characters.

Interesting concept of super-soldiers. This is probably the reason why I like it so much. The Partials, being what they are, are pretty cool! They look human but are grown in vats, have a link-system that connects them through breathing, command and rank is built in which can lead to problems because they are literally made not to be able to disobey orders from superiors, and they have the typical super strength, speed, senses; and highly intelligent. They are also built in batches of different models, making each model have a different specialty. From infantry, officers, generals, espionage, drivers, pilots, and etc. They are loosely a hive-mind concept and were treated before the fall like property of the US. Pretty awesome! I found myself wishing that we could delve into them more, see what its like in their "society" during the apocalypse. Just any bit more of information! However, the author did what was good for the books as if we went and dragged it out by showing all the bits about the Partials then it would mess with the flow of the story, probably. But, I want another novella that is set during the present time of the series, Wells!!

The story seems simple, girl finds cure. Incorrect. The 3 books are nicely put together and the cure thing is just a means to get to the real goal, coexistence. The books have ups and downs and inner plots and big plots. Overall, I enjoyed the flow of the story. The first book, I do warn is kind of slow during the first half, but after that the books keep up a good pace and add in little things that you don't see coming. I have a couple smalls mysteries though that I need answers to, Wells! Was it Skinny or Scruffy??? And what was up with the Partial that ran over to them and said something while they were high-tailing it to the bridge???? If I remember correctly, he didn't get to finish what he said or explain why he seemed to be almost friendly to the group.

Con, I did notice that some other reviews mentioned that the last book felt rushed near the end and I do have to agree with them. It has been a bit since I read it, honestly, but I do recall feeling like something was amiss. Like he was trying to wrap it all up and get it all finished and out. He might've been tired of the series and writing it or so. However, it wasn't horrible and totally fine for an ending. Do I wish there was more to read? You bet I wish!! What reader that enjoys a book's world wants to see it end? Anyone that said "yes", are you crazy?! Just kidding, just kidding!.....There better not be anyone that said "Yes". :P

Lastly, this book is pretty friendly towards young people and those who don't want crudeness and a lot of cussing.

As always, if this piqued your interest.... Go try the book out and come back and let me know what you thought! If anyone found something interesting or figured something out in the story, I'd love to read what you found.

Fahl!

[georgethechen]

Zum celebrates its 25th anniversary as a record label with a series of shows on the West Coast. On Saturday, Dec 2, Oakland California’s renovated Thee Stork Club will host the Bay Area return of GROWING after thirteen years away! 

They will be joined by synth-doom act My Heart, an Inverted Flame, New York’s Somnambulists (solo project of Warren Ng), and Marshall Trammell & Paul Costuros Duo). DJ Melanie Marie will also be spinning and providing live visuals.

The New York/Olympia duo GROWING has a storied history of releases on Kranky and Silver Current and recent live and recorded collaborations with acclaimed harpist Mary Lattimore. GROWING released a CD EP with Zum in 2005 (a split with Mark Evan Burden) and contributed a track to the recent Zum Audio Volume 5 double-CD compilation. 

My Heart, an Inverted Flame played their second-ever show (their first was a 2022 Zum showcase at Noise Pop) after a few years of recording for Zum and Deathbomb Arc. The San Francisco/Ashland, Oregon duo delivers heavy doom drones using only synthesizers and percussion. Members Andee Connors (A Minor Forest, Common Eider, King Eider, aQuarius Records) and Marc Kate (I Am Spoonbender, Driftloss) also released a collaboration single with viral TikTok star Banshee. The Wire magazine called them “Stars of the Lid with a bad fucking attitude.”

Marshall Trammell (Music Research Strategies) & Paul Costuros are longtime Bay Area improvisers who convened for Trammell’s six-month residency at The San Francisco Contemporary Jewish Museum “For Friends” ending in early 2022. Their first recorded material as this Duo is documented in the track “Blue Cube” on Zum Audio Vol. 5. Trammell has toured extensively co-founder and former percussion of the Oakland-based Black Spirituals and currently as solo performer Music Research Strategies or the percussion in In Defense of Memory and White People Killed Them. Costuros has been in the projects Total Shutdown, Death Sentence: Panda!, The Fisticuffs Bluff, Murder Murder, and Burmese.

Somnambulists is Brooklyn-based Warren Ng. He has released solo material under the moniker Somnambulists and in the group This Invitation. Ng has been involved in collaborative film + live score performance works presented at experimental film festivals and exhibitions in New York and San Francisco including an expanded cinema series co-presented by the Microscope Gallery & The Whitney Museum (2016); Mono No Aware IX and X (2015 & 2016); and the SF Cinematheque's Crossroads 2016 & 2018 (presented at the SFMOMA). He has performed at Che Chen’s (75 Dollar Bill) Fire Over Heaven concert series in New York and this is his first appearance back in Oakland since 2019. This show will also be the album release for the new Somnambulists cassette Ascending Planes on Zum.

DJ Bio:

Melanie Marie is a visual artist and creative coder based in Oakland. Initially working with installations centered around Macintosh SE & SE/30 computers, she is now primarily focused on live coding visual synthesis in collaboration with live musicians. Melanie is a host of Transformations Radio and Beloved Radio. Her work and music sets focus on the relationships between music and imagery.

ZUM BIO:

Siblings Yvonne (Xiu Xiu) and George Chen (Common Eider, King Eider, KIT) launched the Zum Audio compilation series (including acts like Duster, Modest Mouse, Deerhoof, Yellow Swans, Zach Hill) in 1998. Over the ensuing decades, the label has released indie emo pioneers Nuzzle, Canadian noiseniks AIDS Wolf, and even Chen’s own stand-up comedy EP.

To mark this anniversary, the latest Zum Audio Vol 5 was released in a double CD format as well as on digital. George Chen set out to survey present-day experimental electronics, drones, hardcore, and mutant pop.

LINKS

ZUM - linktr.ee/zumaudio

GROWING -https://growing-music.bandcamp.com

Marshall Trammell -https://www.musicresearchstrategies.info

Paul Costuros -https://www.discogs.com/artist/310473-Paul-Costuros

Somnambulists -somnambulistsmusic.bandcamp.com

My Heart, an Inverted Flame -https://myheartaninvertedflame.com

Melanie Marie -https://projectvisualsensation.com

[teenmomcentral]

Another day, another ‘Teen Mom’ star showing off their nether regions on The Interwebs…and ‘Teen Mom’ stars feuding on social media.

On Tuesday, Catelynn Lowell announced on Instagram that her newly buffed husband, Tyler Baltierra, has officially joined OnlyFans, and that she will be running his account, deciding which photos of Ty’s dingle-and-dangles to share with the masses.

While some fans were excited that Tyler would presumably be showing off his girl-baby-maker to weirdos on the Internet, one person who was not thrilled was Ty’s former Teen Mom co-star, Farrah Abraham, who took to Instagram Live to call Tyler (and the other ‘Teen Mom’ stars on OnlyFans—such as Jenelle Evans) hypocrites because they once shamed her for doing adult industry work.

Naturally, Jenelle (and her ever-lurking husband David Eason) had to weigh in on Farrah’s commentary.

The Ashley is going to attempt to recap the events for you…

On Tuesday, Catelynn posted a link to Tyler’s newly created OnlyFans account, directing her Instagram followers to shell out some cash to see Tyler’s, um…bulge. (Yes, The Ashley shuddered while typing that sentence.) 

On Tyler’s cringefest-of-a-bio on OnlyFans, he tells everyone that, “This account is ran by my wife because she likes to show me off.” 

After the ‘Teen Mom’ twosome launched Ty’s “Nudie Cutie” site, Tyler made it clear that Catelynn is pulling the strings.

“For anyone wondering though, I will NOT be in control of my account on there,” Tyler posted on Instagram on Tuesday. “It will completely be in my wife’s control. LOL. She’s the boss, I’m just there to do as I’m told LMAO!” 

(The Ashley will give you a moment to digest the thought of Cate being Ty’s dominatrix telling him which photos of his love-worm to post.)

For those of you wanting to pay to see Tyler flex his muscles (both pectoral and “meat,” assumingly) it will cost you a cool $30 a month. 

Farrah– who has been showing off her Backdoor (and other body parts and, um, body functions) on OnlyFans and other adult sites for years— seemed surprised that Tyler would display himself on the pay site, given that she felt he criticized her when she banged her way into the adult industry back in 2013 when her first adult movie, Backdoor Teen Mom, was released. 

Naturally, Farrah took to Instagram Live to blast Tyler, as well as other ‘Teen Mom’ stars who are now posting their privates for the world to see. 

“I have to say, aren’t these the same ‘Teen Moms’ that said I was going into adult entertainment?” Farrah— who most certainly went into “adult entertainment” by doing whole p0rn films— said. “The funnier thing is, I never changed who I was.”

Farrah then claimed that it was unfair that she fired from ‘Teen Mom OG’ due to her adult industry activities, but these ‘Teen Mom’ stars aren’t being let go. (What Farrah is saying about being fired is not exactly correct. As The Ashley has told you in the past, there were several contributing factors to The Big F getting the boot from the show. Although she was fired in part for refusing to turn down an adult gig that went against her contract for the show, she was was also let go for other reasons.) 

“They’re on the same platforms that I’m on, yet I’m the only one that got fired!” Farrah said.

Farrah then busted out some of her signature legal “Farrah Speak.” 

“Maybe it was just politically charged for wrongful firement?” she said.

(And, no, that’s not a typo. She actually said, “firement.”) 

“But in the end, we’re all adults and we can be on adult platforms, right?” she said. “So I don’t know. Maybe all of the ‘Teen Moms’ are switching to p0rn? And they’re all p0rn stars? But I remain the same.”

Farrah’s message was seen by Tyler and Catelynn, as well as Jenelle and her husband David, all of whom responded to Farrah calling them hypocrites and p0rn stars. 

Tyler and Catelynn made it clear that they are not doing p0rn, as Farrah stated.

“Y’all, we aren’t doing anything sexual on OnlyFans LMAOOO!” Catelynn posted to Instagram Stories on Wednesday. “Please we got kids! I would never lol. But if you do want to see what we are posting then click the link! #NoShame #HotHusbandAlert.”

Tyler doubled down, writing on Instagram Stories that what he’s posting on OnlyFans is not even close to the level of adult entertainment Farrah has participated in.

“To be fair, I’m NOT doing p0rn at all!” Tyler wrote. “Cate is just sharing the stuff that I personally send to her lol! There’s no sex involved or even videos on the page she’s running. I didn’t go to a p0rn production company, hire adult film stars & crew, have sex on camera, pretend that it was some ‘leaked’ personal footage, or make genital molds to sell.

“Cate is being completely transparent & honest about it all,” he continued. “It’s just a wife sharing photos of her husband, that’s literally it! But I get why some people are comparing it to my former cast member’s endeavors TBH & that’s totally valid! I just wanted to clarify what type of content is actually being shared on there in case anyone thought otherwise.” 

Jenelle also had a lot to say about Farrah spouting off. Jenelle— who recently admitted that a large portion of her income now comes from showing off the ol’ “bush ‘n’ tush” on OnlyFans— posted to Twitter about Farrah’s rant.

“Then we got [Farrah] over here talking s**t,” Jenelle tweeted on Wednesday. “My God…talking about ‘I haven’t changed.’ Girl you don’t even look like the same person anymore, besides your horrible personality.”  

“You’re right Farrah, you’re still you…a straight up bish,” Jenelle wrote on Facebook. “Acting like I didn’t support her through being fired and even invited me to her birthday party and we went! She will always be another one to talk mad BS and never change.” 

Jenelle’s hubby David took a break from working, studying, f**king raking to also weigh in.

“Not the backdoor booty queen comparing herself to people who are not relatable,” David—who also had a short, yet horrifying stint on OnlyFans— wrote on Facebook on Wednesday. 

None of the other ‘Teen Mom’ stars who are currently on OnlyFans— including Jade Cline, Briana DeJesus, Nathan Griffith and Brittany DeJesus—have responded to Farrah’s comments yet.

[moonlitfirefly]

“Ancient Mysteries

In Ancient Greece the women who were mothers used to mix the seeds of grain with their menstrual blood to ensure a good crop. Before pushing their fingertips into the soil and slipping them inside, then covering them up.

Sometimes you have to bleed before you know the truth of ancient mysteries and sometimes, no matter how much sweat, blood and tears or sorrow, you will never, ever ever know that which can never be revealed. Mystery is such a thing. It has a spirit of its own. In Ancient Greece, one could go to the Eleusian Mysteries, whether slave or King (as long as one was Greek, and never committed murder). But to speak of the Mysteries would be a death sentence.

Initiatory Cycles give meaning to life and death and life. Sometimes, you have to dive in and sometimes they take you without your permission, the sideways route.

Never dig your heels in, once they hook their mythic claws into you. Myth is its own beast, its own Baba Yaga, its own Hecate and Cauldron, Wolf and Demon, Psychopomp and RX in its own unique way. She will wrestle you and make you dirty and senseless so that you understand without knowing how you know.

Through dreams and feelings

images and momentary fleeing ahas

and sometimes, just in the moment before the wake of dawn, at the first light of the first breath.

Myth is a Gorgeous Lover and a Terrifying Grim Reaper. She can chew you up into gristle and bones or churn you into butter. She can yank all the caterpillar out of you until there is nothing left but dissolution but she will grow wings on you all the same.

Most likely, by the time she is through with you, you won't know that you are wearing them. Which is as it should be. Humility is not exactly her middle name, but it is what she loves the most when she peels off the masks and gets to the bare authentic truth streaming tears out of your eyes.

Grow with it. Go with it. Get out of your own way. There is another Story waiting to Crawl into you.

What is your Mythic RX?

How do you find her when she is thick in the brambles between here and the dark forest? Perhaps somewhere there is an elixir or a spell or a moonshine song. Maybe you can Drink her. Or Smoke her. I prefer to find her through Dance and Writes of Passage.

She does not want you to cling to. her. She is the burdock but her burrs have a purpose. They will rub into your clothing until they've outworn the old cloth and find themselves upon something furry and wild, carried off to the wayside. To befriend another stranger. Yet she is stranger than fiction, and familiar all the same. She is the original family. She'll leave you homeless but at the same time, build you a new home out of hedges and roses.

If all else fails, and you wish to find her but have no idea how to find your way, She answers to the call

Not quite here, not quite there.

Any which way, she is the question and she is the answer but mostly, she is whole, holy, mystery, hidden, contained in the seeds of her ancient marrow bones. she speaks differently through you than she does through me.

listen, listen closely and listen carefully.

she knows your true name”.

Join me for a writes of passage Mythic RX this Sunday. Scroll down for info on FB. Check link in bio on Instagram.” Xoxo

The Wild Matryoshka