#of course he has rope burn from trying to pull her back with him

[softquietsteadylove]

For the Thenamesh Dressage AU:

Olympia gets spooked bei something and out of fear she runs away. Gil sees her running away and searches for her!

Thena paced the front patio of the club's main building. She had been pacing all afternoon, watching the grey clouds roll in steadily. It had been hours she had been out here.

Olympia had been in the fields when apparently she had gotten spooked by something and jumped the fence. She had run off at full speed, only witnessed by a few of the club staff present at the time.

Gilgamesh had gone after her.

Of course he had, though. Not just as a caretaker for the horses, but because he was like that. He cared about every single horse in his stable, and she had no doubt that he would have gone after any of the horses had they escaped.

Thena fidgeted with the sleeves of her turtleneck, clacking her boots on the wooden deck. A storm was coming in, and if they had thunder and lightning to worry about, it was even less likely they would find Olympia without injury or incident. She was about two seconds away from stealing Ikaris' steed Achilles and riding him out to find her.

Not that the club would let that happen. Not only would Ikaris kill her, but there were certain expectations of her as their champion rider, and one of those expectations was definitely not to go rogue and ride out into a thunderstorm and get herself killed.

How was Gil going to wrangle a spooked horse all by himself?

He was strong--obviously. But would just 'being strong' be enough to pull the stubborn mare back from a panic attack? What if she was truly scared? She was a kicker, and if Gil was in the wrong position at the wrong time...

Thena shuddered. No, certainly not; Gilgamesh was a trained and accomplished caretaker. He knew how to approach and handle a spooked horse. He was probably on his way back with Olympia right now!

She had been telling herself that for the last hour and a half straight.

"They'll be all right," she muttered, mostly to herself. Every since she had found Gilgamesh talking to her horse that day in the stables, she had taken up the habit for herself. She could see why he did it; it felt somewhat calming to voice her thoughts. "They'll be fine."

"Thena?"

She just sighed as Sersi walked up the club steps to her side. "They're not back yet."

The veterinarian nodded, offering a supportive pat on the shoulder, "I heard about the incident. I'm sure they'll be back any time now."

Thena gave her a tight lipped nod. Obviously Sersi was able to read the anxiety off of her. "I...I hate to think they're-"

"Oh!"

Thena looked up. Somehow, Sersi was right; on the far side of the ring, a bright spot of white emerged from the treeline. Olympia was clearly covered in branches and other evidence of her sprint. Gilgamesh was guiding her back with a makeshift lead looped around her neck. He looked exhausted.

Sersi blinked as Thena took off from the deck in a run.

The closer she got, the more she could see that Olympia had obviously fallen at some point, her right side positively caked with mud. Gilgamesh didn't seem much better off, also covered in sticks and pine needles and leaves. He had a few smears of dirt on him and some light looking scratches and cuts along his skin.

He smiled at her.

"Hey," he greeted with a heavy wave, "don't worry, she's not hurt. I-"

Thena threw herself forward, pressing her face in, "thank goodness."

Gilgamesh froze, not moving an inch with her arms wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides. "Uh... "

Thena released him, not thinking about it in the slightest as she turned on her horse, "what were you thinking, young lady!"

Olympia ducked her head and looked away from her, a vague look of shame settling over her long features. She huffed.

"You could have gotten hurt!" Thena continued to scold her impulsive mare, taking the rope from Gil's hand and leading Olympia back to the stables. "And that's nothing to say of putting poor Gil through this!"

"Really, I-"

"You are in big trouble, you," Thena grumbled, her steam running out as they made their way back to the stables. Thena laid her head against Olympia's mane, twigs and mud be damned, "do you know how worried I was?"

Olympia blew through her lips, angling her face to somewhat nudge Thena affectionately.

"I know you are," she sighed, petting her horse for the comfort of them both. "Let's get you washed up, you filthy thing. Gilgamesh has done enough for you for one day."

"Thena, really, I-"

Thena continued right into the stables. She walked Olympia right in, ready to hose her right down. Yes, she would get covered in mud and water and horse hair and be disgusting by the end of it. But having her horse back safe and sound was well worth it. "Go on."

Olympia walked into her stall with her head hung low in shame.

"Thena, really," Gil attempted to comfort her again. "She's fine, I'm fine--and we're lucky for it!"

Thena gave him a brief once over, her eyes moving over the mud in his hair and the beginnings of rope burn on his palms. She pressed her hand to his, watching as he flinched from the sting of it. "Hm--go to Ajak and have her tend to those."

"But-"

"Go!" she barked at him. He had that soft, gentle face, though, and her usual temper shook in the face of it. She sighed, "I'll take care of Olympia. You should go take care of yourself."

He gave her a funny kind of smile, which she couldn't entirely read in the moment. "Thanks--for worrying about me, I mean."

Thena blinked as he obeyed her order to go to the club medic to have his injuries tended to. She paused; she had been worried about him, sure. She just didn't know how to feel about him knowing that she had been worried about him.

Olympia whinnied loudly at her rider.

"Sorry, sorry," Thena muttered, stepping into her stall with her to examine her before making a mess of both of them.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 16

part 1, prev part

Despite the advice of both Steve and Wayne, Dusitn returns to the hospital the next day. Stands outside of Eddie’s room for longer than he should. Wondering if walking through the doors will bring the same torment as before. If anything will change.

He can’t bring himself to do it. Turns from the door and continues down the hall, deciding to visit Max. The rest of the group is already there. He was just going to be late.

They are sitting around the bed and talking. As if it was a lunch table. Or the couch of one of their living rooms. Bringing back the warm feelings of friendship. Of a never changing form of love. Reminding him that there is light in the dark, as long as he searches for it.

But just because there is light, doesn’t mean the dark isn’t suffocating.

Dustin’s mind lingers in the realm between rooms. The hallway that melds happiness and sorrow. As people reunite or lose their loved ones. Cope with the understanding that everything has changed. Or nothing has changed at all.

Everyone here is deciding to ignore the change for a moment. Try to look straight at the light for as long as they can. Until it leaves spots in their eyes and forces them to turn away. Ignoring it almost hurts as much as acknowledging it.

Maybe not for everyone, but it causes Dustin to remain quiet. Adding things to conversation, when necessary, but otherwise no words form. Laughter dies before hitting his lips. Feels so foreign. The muscles that pull the smile up on his face pulled down by weights. Each formation marking itself with burned energy.

But in the end, it’s the first moment he’s had in weeks where he isn’t fully drowning. Where part of the pain sets itself aside and allows him to breath. He forgot how nice it felt to be unburdened.

“Alright, what’s up with you,” Max asks when the rest of the group leaves. Dustin procrastinating traveling down the hall again.

“What?”

Max tilts her head to the side, the annoyance still ripe in the clouded glare. “You have barely said anything since you got here. You’ve never been this quiet. What’s going on?”

“How can you act so, not different? Like nothing has changed.” Dustin pauses, trying to find the right words to say. “You’re acting so ok. I’m not sure I would have I gone through what you did.”

Max shrugs, picking at her cast. “If I’m not laughing, I’m crying or shutting down. And I do when you guys leave. But laughing feels so much better than crying, so I try to laugh when I can.”

She has a point with that. Dustin feels how the laughter lifted weights. Made the joy trapped away in the pain start to flutter again.

“But don’t you wish that things turned out differently?” The question seems stupid now that it’s asked, but Dustin still wants to know.

Max raises her head, her clouded eyes looking towards Dustin but missing him slightly. “Of course I do. I miss seeing you guys. All I can see are the shadows of you when you stand in front of the light. It’s hard to remember things that I thought I didn’t have to memorize.”

She takes a breath to blink away the tears. “But, I can either be miserable because of the way life turned out and get caught up in these possible scenarios that could have happened. Or, I can learn to live this life that I almost lost. I was stuck in the what ifs before, I don’t want to be stuck in them again.”

Dustin wishes it were that easy. To just push them away and forget that the other possibilities exist. That there could have been a lifetime that he could have stopped Eddie from cutting that rope. From stopping and running out into the hoard of bats. Stop him from enduring all this pain.

“I heard about Eddie,” Max says when Dustin doesn’t respond. “I hope he gets better soon.”

“Me too.”

“It’s not his fault you know, the anger and the yelling and stuff. I had a moment like that when I woke up from the coma. It only lasted a few hours for me, but I was only in one for a few days. Eddie’s been stuck in one for over a week.”

Dustin lets out a deep breath. Tears threatening to fall. “It looked like he didn’t even recognize me.”

“He did,” Max quickly says. “Somewhere in his mind, he did. It just might not have come to the surface that fast. It’s weird waking up from a coma. It’s like your body is brand new, and everything feels wrong. You have to relearn everything. Including memories.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“You’ve never been in a coma before,” Max shrugs. “Most people don’t.”

Dustin sits with her for a few more minutes before going to leave. Max stopping him on his way out to say one last thing.

“He’s going to remember, Dustin.”

He turns to look at her again. Seeing the pain engulf her face. Realizing how much all of this has affected her too.

“Be there for him when he does.”

Dustin nods, not realizing that she can’t see it. Stopping himself before he shuts the door to call out to her. Make sure she knows he understands.

“I will.”

He walks down the hall. Stopping in front of Eddie’s door again. Hand hovering over the handle. Pushing himself to make it turn. Step into the threshold and sit in his chair. Alone in a hospital room with his friend.

Eddie’s asleep. Looking more peaceful that yesterday. The pain and anger faded from his face. Leaving only the calmness that comes with sleep. Dustin thought the calmness of his face would sting, but all it does is bring comfort. Knowing that right in this moment, Eddie feels nothing.

Doing what he has done for the past week, Dustin pulls out the battered-up copy of The Fellowship of the Ring and turns to the page he left off on. Letting the words of this great adventure fill the room. One where lowly hobbits left the only town they ever knew, to do something grand. Something for the betterment of their entire world.

In a way, all of them were the hobbits. Broken out of the innocence of unknowing and thrown into the unbelievable reality. Walked themselves to Mordor and back. With their scars and bruises. But in the end, they continued to have lives. Be able to continue on with their own adventures.

Eddie stirs as Dustin makes it to the last chapter. Opens his eyes and turns towards Dustin. Blankly stares as the book concludes. Tries to sit up as Dustin closes the book. Falls back onto the pillows with a wince.

“Help,” he whispers. “Please.”

Dustin stands from his chair. Raises the back of Eddie’s bed slightly higher so Eddie’s sitting more vertically. Still with a slight recline.

Eddie takes a deep breath, eyes closing as he licks his chapped lips. “I yelled.” Another deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Dustin shakes his head, not wanting to add to Eddie’s pain. “It’s ok. I know you didn’t mean it.”

Tears gloss over Eddie’s eyes. Dripping down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

He realizes that Eddie means for more than just yesterday. For everything he doesn’t even remember doing, but deep in the depths of his mind knows he did. Understanding that he is here for some reason. And it caused both of them pain.

Dustin reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand. Feels the life as he grips Dustin’s fingers with all the strength that Eddie has right now. “Don’t be.”

“Love you, Henderson.” Eddie whispers before closing his eyes again. Falling back to sleep.

Dustin cries. He remembers. “Love you too, Eddie.”

Note: This full chapter is now posted on my ao3. Now back to Wayne

next part

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[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 4 (Final)

Covered in scars and left totally numb by your abusive previous owner, you’re considered an “unsellable doll”. That is, until the Doll House takes you in and Sukuna becomes your trainer.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Sukuna’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m not keeping the same tag list as before, since this part deals with darker themes. I will resume the tag list after Sukuna’s part is finished! So if you want to be tagged in this one, please specify!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. BDSM. Erotic Torture. Bondage. Extremely rough/violent/painful sex. Needles. Piercings. Rope. Reader is covered in scars. Everything that happens between Sukuna and Reader is consensual but there is mention of abuse by a previous owner. Divider by @benkeibear!

Everything hurts, or at least Sukuna hopes it does. He’s put a lot of work and thought into making this session as intense as possible, and if his doll’s whimpers and trembling body are any indication, he succeeded.

She’s naked of course, her body glistening under the bright light on the ceiling that he has pointing right at her. Her hands are tied tightly, uncomfortably, behind her back with rough rope that’s definitely going to leave burns. Each of her nipples has been pierced through with two long needles, making X shapes. The way they catch the light when she quivers and shakes makes Sukuna’s cock throb. 

The doll is standing on her tip toes. She really has no choice, because Sukuna is gripping a thin but very rough rope that’s going between her legs, between the slick folds of her pussy, scraping and burning her clit. She’s trying to take pressure off it by standing on her toes, but her legs are getting weak. 

She whines out something, tears steaming down her face, but she’s unable to form words. Her tongue is extended, with one long shiny needle shoved through it from the side, effectively trapping her tongue outside her mouth. 

Sukuna jerks on the rope, and gets a garbled scream in response. “Too much? Want me to stop?”

She shakes her head “no”. There’s an agreed upon motion she can make with her head to let him know she needs to stop, but she’s never used it. She’s never used any safe word or gesture yet, and some part of him feels a need to make her do so at least once before she leaves. 

He moves closer, close enough to feel the cool metal of the needles against his chest. He uses his free hand to stroke her scarred face, his thumb wiping at the tears. “Is there even a limit to how much you can take?”

She doesn’t respond, only stares at him. She’s unsteady, trying to balance on her toes, her soft body rubbing against his in the process. He suddenly releases the rope, and the sudden loss of pressure from the rope causes her to fall to her knees. She’s breathing hard, drool dripping out of her forcibly opened mouth. 

Sukuna opens his pants, pulling his erection free and holding it above her face. “Make me cum,” he says, and she looks at him as if she’s confused. She’s probably wondering how she’s supposed to pleasure him with her hands behind her back and her mouth unusable. But she doesn’t hesitate for long. She leans forward and runs her extended tongue over his cock, drooling all over it, licking the tip in swirling motions. Sukuna grins. It must be excruciating, using her tongue this way while it has a needle ran through it. 

He watches her, delighted, as she works to get him off. She’s looking up at him, making such cute little cries of pain. He could cum right now, but he’s holding back, wanting to draw this out as long as possible. He lasts several more minutes, enjoying her suffering, before he grabs her hair and holds her head still, then cums all over her face. Most of it lands on her tongue. 

Without giving her time to rest, he pulls her back up to her feet by her hair, holding her steady as he leans down and licks one nipple, running his tongue over the needles. She whimpers again, and he moves his free hand down to her sore pussy. He gently rubs her clit, pleased by how drenched she is. It only takes a few minutes for her approach release, her legs trembling and weak. He watches her face as she cums, crying and moaning. She’s beautiful to him when she’s like this, her face covered in his cum, her eyes wet with tears as both pleasure and agony dance through them. 

He wants to hurt her more, to push her further to the edge, to make her cum over and over again. He grabs the rope and yanks it upwards, lifting her off the floor with the force of it, causing her to scream. He makes a game of giving the rope a tiny bit of slack and then pulling it up again, watching the way she jerks and twists, her body instinctively trying to avoid the pain of the rope. It makes him hard again. 

When he releases the rope and lets her drop to the floor this time, he shoves her onto her back and pushes her knees up to her chest. “Can this sore little pussy handle my cock right now?” 

She nods emphatically. 

“You want it, don’t you? No matter how sore you are, you want me inside you.”

She nods again. He reaches up and pulls the needle out of her tongue. She gasps at the pain, slowly pulling the sore muscle back into her mouth. 

“Say it,” he demands. 

“I.. I want…” the words come out strange. Her tongue must hurt too bad to speak normally. 

“What’s that? What do you want?”

She looks him in the eyes. “Please… inside me… please…”

He obliges her, burying himself in her wet cunt as she lets out a sob. He fucks her hard on the floor, drinking in the sight of her tits bouncing with each thrust, the needles glinting. He knows exactly how to hit the spots that make her cry out, and soon she’s cumming again, her body convulsing against him. A few more minutes of pounding into her, and he cums too, filling her womb. 

When finished, he stands up and looks down at her. There’s something alluring about how fragile and helpless she looks, her hands still tied behind her back, her body trembling as she rolls slowly to her side to take pressure off her sore arms. She looks back at him as she pants, her eyes wide and shiny. He’s going to miss this. 

She’s met with the buyer two more times this week, the fifth week of her training. Sukuna still doesn’t like the man, and his doll still has little to say about the matter. Her silence on this topic frustrates him, but he would never say so. 

After cleaning her up and helping her to bed, Sukuna goes to the kitchen for a drink. On his way back, the owner asks him to step into her office for a moment. 

“What is it? Did the buyer back out?” he asks, a grin tugging at his lips. He doesn’t realize he was hoping for this to be the case until the owner shakes her head. 

“No, this isn’t about him. It’s about your next doll.”

Sukuna’s eyebrows raise. It’s not often that he has a new doll lined up before he finishes training one, though it has happened before. 

The owner slides a folder across the desk to him. “She came in today, and enjoys bondage. I figured she would be a good match for you, so I told her to come back week after next. You can be looking over her file if you want. She’s quite pretty.”

Sukuna opens the folder to find a photo of the woman in question. Yes, she is indeed “quite pretty”, but she also looks quite boring. Compared to his current doll, the woman in the photo looks painfully ordinary. He tries to picture the woman tied up naked in his room, but the only image that comes to his mind is a trembling scarred body on his floor and teary eyes looking up at him.  

“I’ll look it over,” he says, taking the file with him. For perhaps the first time, he feels no excitement whatsoever about this new doll. His mind is still full of all the things he wants to try with woman in his bed. 

******************

When you wake up the next morning, Sukuna is already up and sitting in a chair. There’s a cup of coffee on the small table beside him, and he’s got a paper folder open in his lap, a loose page in his hand. 

“What’s that?” you ask, climbing out of bed. 

He glances up at you, and seems to be thinking about his answer for a moment before he says, “The file on my next doll.”

The words feel like a punch to the stomach. You’re not used to feeling these things. You try to keep your face blank as you reply with a simple, “Oh.”

Sukuna studies your face for a moment, then grins. “Jealous?”

“No, I don’t think jealous is the right word,” you answer honestly. 

“Then what is the right word?” he asks, the folder closed and his full attention on you now. 

You hesitate. Should you be honest? You don’t think you could pull off a convincing lie. You look away from him. “Sad.”

He stands up and walks over to you. “Should I just keep you?”

You look up suddenly. “What?”

His face is unreadable as he looks at you. “Trainers who work here are allowed to choose one doll to keep throughout the ten year contract. Just one during our careers.”

“Oh,” you say again, lowering your eyes. “Just one. Of course you wouldn’t choose someone like me…”

His hand lifts your chin, making you face him. “I’m not going to choose you. I’m not going to choose anyone. I don’t intend to ever keep a doll, because I can’t imagine spending ten years with one woman. But… if I were to ever choose one…”

His voice trails off as he stares at you. 

“If you were…?” you prompt, desperate to hear the rest of that sentence. 

He leans down and kisses your lips. It’s the softest kiss he’s ever given you. “If I were to ever choose a doll to keep, it would be you.”

You feel your eyes getting wet. You try to blink away the tears. Just hearing that is enough. He won’t ever keep a doll, but you’re his favorite. You’ll keep those words locked in a special place in your heart, forever. 

The days pass in a whirlwind. Sukuna’s training sessions become more and more intense, as if he wants to wring every tear and every orgasm possible from your body. In the meantime, you continue to meet with the buyer. 

He seems like a decent man, one who won’t abuse you at least. He’s clean and relatively handsome, and the pictures you’ve seen of his house look very comfortable. You don’t think ten years with him will be too bad. But your heart aches when you think of leaving Sukuna, of never seeing him again, never feeling his touch.  

Finally, the day arrives for you to leave. You’ve already packed up the clothes and other items Sukuna bought for you, and the two of you are standing in the welcome room when the receptionist steps in to tell you the buyer has arrived to pick you up. 

************ 

Sukuna tells himself he feels nothing when the doll picks up her suitcase and starts toward the door.  He tells himself that he’ll miss fucking her and hearing her screams and nothing more. He almost believes it. 

But when she suddenly drops her suitcase and rushes back to him, wrapping her arms around him in a sweet hug, he feels the first pangs of doubt. 

She pulls back and looks up at him, her eyes overflowing with tears. “Thank you for everything, Sukuna. You healed me. I’ll never forget you!”

Sukuna stares at her wordlessly, his heart suddenly racing. What the fuck is wrong with him? That sincerity in her voice, that emotion, made him feel something. Something he’s never felt before. And all at once he realizes he’ll miss more than her body. 

She turns to walk away again, wiping her eyes, and without even thinking about what he’s doing, his hand shoots out to grab her arm. His body just moved on its own. 

She looks back, eyes wide. 

“Wait,” he says, the word sounding strange even to him. What is he doing? All he knows is, he doesn’t want her to walk out that door. 

“Don’t go.”

She looks confused. “But, the buyer is waiting-“

“Fuck him. You’re not leaving,” he says, his voice firm. 

“I… I don’t understand.”

He pulls her back to him, back into his arms, and says, “I’m keeping you.”

He feels her body begin to shiver. Her wet face is buried in his chest, making his expensive shirt damp. Sukuna calls the receptionist back in and says, “Tell the buyer the deal is off. She’s taken.”

*****************

You still can’t believe you’re in this situation. You’re in Sukuna’s large, luxury apartment, in the bedroom you now share with him, hanging from a rope by your hands. 

Your strength isn’t going to last much longer. You’re holding up your own body weight, have been for a while now, and your arms are in agonizing pain as you struggle to keep your grip. Your legs are strapped up to your torso, spread wide apart with your knees bent toward your shoulders. The jeweled piercings Sukuna gave you in your nipples and clit are shimmering under the light. 

Beneath you, Sukuna is sitting comfortably in a chair that seems designed for these sorts of activities. His shirt is off, displaying the tattoos that make you weak, and his pants are open. His enormous cock is standing up straight, already leaking, and sporting two studded cock rings, one at the base and one just below the tip. It already hurts to take his cock normally, but with the rings, it’s going to be unbearable. They look like they could tear you apart. 

You can feel his tip teasing your entrance. When your grip finally gives out, you’re going to fall straight on it and be impaled. You’ve already slid as far down on the rope as you can, so you can’t ease yourself down on it. 

Sukuna grins as his fingers play with your clit ring. It was only done two days ago, so it’s still extremely tender and sensitive. You tremble and shake, trying to pull yourself up even an inch, but it’s no use. Your strength is failing you. He rubs your clit, pinching it and pulling on the ring. 

“P-please!” you beg, tears in your eyes. 

He doesn’t stop. “Please what? Weren’t you just begging for my cock earlier?”

“I can’t… hold on…”

He laughs as his fingers slide around, feeling how drenched you are. “Then let go. You’re so wet, these rings might not wreck this little pussy too bad.”

You can’t take it anymore, the pleasure of his fingers on your clit. You cry out as you cum, your whole body shaking, and the intensity of the orgasm causes you to lose your grip. You fall directly onto his cock, and it completely sheaths all the way inside you, studded rings and all. 

The scream that leaves your mouth sounds inhuman. You gasp for breath as your sore, rope-burned hands fall to Sukuna’s shoulders, gripping them tightly. You can feel his cock twitch inside you, letting you know how much this turns him on. He smiles at you as he wraps his arms around you, kissing your mouth gently. 

“The cock you wanted so badly is inside you,” he whispers into your ear. “Aren’t you happy?”

It takes you a minute to form words, as your body is still shaking from the shock. “I’m happy,” you say, and you mean it. You belong to the man you love, and every day he finds new ways to make you cum. 

“Does it hurt?” he asks sweetly, running his tongue over your quivering lips, his hands softly rubbing your back. 

“Yes,” you say, locking eyes with him. 

“Want to stop?” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your body to his. “Never,” you answer. 

He grips your hair and pulls your head back to look at your face again. “Then get to riding. Make me cum or I’ll hang you up again.”

You nod, then take a deep breath before you begin moving up and down his length, the studs on the rings scraping your delicate flesh. 

The pain is intense, but so is the pleasure, and so is the love you feel for this man. He’s never told you he loves you. Maybe he doesn’t. But he chose you. He kept you, and decided to stop training new dolls, “for now” he said. He told you he always gets tired of dolls before the six weeks are up, but you’ve been with him for nearly four months now, and he’s shown no signs of getting bored with you yet. 

After he cums inside you, he eases you up off him and holds you. His touch is so gentle in these moments, his hands rubbing over your scars as he stands up, holding you bridal style. When not having sex, he doesn’t treat you like a doll, like a piece of property he owns. The two of you talk and watch movies together and even cook together. You never imagined you would ever be this happy. 

As he carries you out of the room, you hear him mutter something softly under his breath. It sounds suspiciously like, “Ten years of this might not be so bad.”

Tag List: 

@akaotv @khaleesihavilliard @issracollen @maflorex @dabislittlemouse @siriusdumblittlepuppy @collectionofdolls @butterskyy @missthatgirl

[the-s1lly-corner]

NEVER FEAR I HAVE A REQUEST TO QUENCH YOUR THIRST!!!!

Could be Platonic or Romantic Either way works. New Follower(Reader) of the lamb tries to befriend the Bishops who is also a somewhat reckless Adventurer.

-Anon

Follower!Bishops x new follower!reckless!reader

LETS FUCKING GO!!!! only doing the 4 bishops here mweheheheheh might snag this and do a narinder version later eheheheh characters: leshy, heket, kallamar, shamura notes: reader is GN, unspecified creature CWs: canon typical violence/injuries

LESHY

sometimes he can get behind your nature, given he was once a chaos god- in a way you both kind of build up off of each other with you being so... unpredictable

though that doesnt mean hes going to stand by and knowingly let you get hurt, if he can help it... keeps your attention on him to make sure you dont wander off

youre both often paired together to go out on missions together due to him being unable to see- you work as his eyes, and he uses his smell in order to seek out where resources are

this really goes for all of the bishops but youre one of the first people to befriend him after he joins the lamb's cult- if it weren't for you falling over and slamming your face on the ground, he wouldn't have given you his time... hes glad he didnt ignore you, he gets to rope you into some of the pranks he pulls around the cult to sow mischief and chaos

HEKET

slow burn friendship with you likely being under the impression youre both already friends- it almost gives off dog and cat dynamic vibes

you first really got her attention when you threw yourself into danger to go retrieve something she mentioned having some low level desire for- of course, coming back with various cuts and bruises scattered across your body

you did it simply to be nice, not because you felt the obligation to do it out of fear- she doesnt have her power or influence anymore

picks you up and yanks you out of the way of any traps while out on missions, low grumbles are sent your way as she wordlessly scolds you

you tend to try to spread the word that shes a sweetheart to others but no one is buying it due to her past and general attitude around everyone else

KALLAMAR

if youve got the balls to back up your recklessness, you unofficially become his guard dog; standing up for him when some of the other cult members give him flack or when he says something that he probably shouldnt have- anxiety be damned, that man still has an ego that still peaks out every now and then

youre the one whos always charging head first into danger during missions while he trails behind you out of harms way...

frets over you once you both return to camp, hes dabbing a wash cloth to your wounds as he scolds you for being so careless with yourself

if you return from a solo mission or outing and return with something for him- say, some crystals from anchordeep, hes going to be torn between wanting to get onto you for putting yourself in danger and wanting to just melt into the ground- you'd gotten the crystals because he missed his old temple and home

clings to you when you both dont have any work assigned for the day

SHAMURA

youre reckless, and they tend to be forgetful- you both have the capacity to get hurt in some way during a mission

youre more than willing to take any hits for them, often times leading to them pulling you to the side to gather yourself together

you both keep an eye on each other out of habit- you fear they might wander or get left behind, and they have the same worry

admires your energy, though, even if its so so different from their own

they help you reel it in if you ever become too much or nearly throw yourself into something thats far above your skill level

naturally you have some scars from your adventures, sometimes they will ask about them if youre open to talking- however theyre more than understanding if theres some you dont want to talk about

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hello! So I have this request. Imagine Tommy has a daughter who's very cocky and isn't afraid to argue with anyone. It doesn't matter if you're 2 or 50, and she's her to be a teenager. ( preferably 13 ) If you can, and want to, of course. ( this is my first time asking for a request, and I'm so nervous, Idek why )

Hey Love,

This request is awesome! Thanks for trusting me with it! Hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Kidnapping / peaky themes

Tommy felt his vision start to swim and the words on the phone became inaudible. The man hung up the phone and he knew he needed to move. These feelings uncovered old wounds. That time he had to rescue Charlie when he was just a small boy. He got one kid back and he could do it again. 

He pulled himself together and immediately without thought sought out Arthur who was sitting at his desk reading the paper. 

“He’s taken her hostage.” The words barely made it out of Tommy's mouth. 

“Told you that would happen,” Arthur grumbled but Tommy could see the pain and fear in his eyes. “JOHNNY!” Arthur called out over his shoulder into the back room.

“Again!” John said running his hand through his hair. “Fuck.” 

__________________________________________________

You were not very comfortable in the trunk of the car. Something you felt your capture needed to understand. They had not taken your criticism and had begun to ignore you. 

You weren't entirely sure they could hear you up front with the engine turned on and everything. If there was a small chance they could hear you, you were going to take it. 

You started singing God Save the King at an ungodly volume. Why that song? You didn't know. But you were sure it would annoy the piss out of anyone in earshot. 

You mentally counted every turn the car took. Trying to make a map of how to get back to school, back to safety. You sang so loud your lungs and throat burned. 

Eventually, the car came to an abrupt stop. Clearly done so your body would roll around in the trunk. You let out a little scream then lay still. 

Somewhere in your mind, you realized they could have driven to the river. Maybe they would open the trunk and shoot you immediately then dump your body. 

Jesus and the last song you would have been singing was God Save the King. Fuck, that’s not how you wanted things to end. 

The trunk opened and thankfully no one had any weapons drawn. The men looked weathered though you were happy to see they were enjoying your company. 

“Who the fuck taught you to drive.” You looked at the man with the keys in his hand. “Jesus Christ you suck.” 

“Look here you little twerp. Shut your mouth.” He grabbed your arm shaking your whole frame. “And keep it shut. Tight.” 

You felt that lovely sense of rage cloud all of your senses and leaned into the man's face. Your eyes were wide and you knew that he knew just where those icy blue orbs came from. 

“Make me.” You said softly. You could feel the discomfort run through the man. He didn’t want to be here, he was holding you for ransom no doubt. The reluctance to follow through with any violence was clear in his features. He gave the man next to him a look. 

“Get her in the fucking building.” The other man ordered avoiding your gaze. They moved you into the abandoned warehouse and sat you on a chair.

“Look at the two of you!” You said as they bound your body with rope. “Real classy people. I’m sure your mothers are very proud.” 

The man rolled his eyes. 

“Stuck with a couple of real winners.” You could see the man's jaw tick and you decided to simmer down a little. You needed to think up a plan. 

“So do you believe in God then?” You asked and he sat down in the chair across from you. A bright light turned on overhead and you realized with a spark in your eye that they were going to interrogate you. 

“I’ll be asking the questions here.” The man said in a sturdy voice. 

“That hardly seems like fun. I’ll trade you a question for a question. How bout that?” The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Told you we should have taken the boy instead.” The man standing in the shadows said. 

“Charlie. Great man. Great brother. You want to know why he is such an excellent -” 

“No. What I want to know is why your dad stole from Mr. Crowe.” 

“Mr. Crowe, he sounds ominous. If I were writing a book I’d definitely make him the villain.” You tried to look around at all the exits. “What did my dad steal?” 

“Money and a shipment of drugs headed for New York.” 

“Doesn't sound like my dad. He’s a politician, a man of the government.” You explained. “Have you ever been to New York?” 

The man slapped his hand down on the table next to him. You wanted to avoid listening to more boring threats so you plowed on. 

“I have thought about going to New York, but America seems so dull. Their art is sooo boring. Do you like art?” You asked him honestly. 

“No.” 

“Really? You strike me as a man of higher education.” You smiled like a cat. “Surely there must be an artist or era you like. Everyone likes art.” 

“Shut up.” He growled. “Just shut up.” 

“Well, I don't know if you know this, but I just turned 13. You know what that means?” You looked at both men. “Means dating, and while I’m here I might as well practice small talk.” 

Both men let out a groan and one of them came over and landed a blow across your cheek. You could feel the fear radiating off of him as if God himself had told him what the cost of hitting one of Thomas Shelby’s kids was.

“My aunt hits harder.” You sneered. “Now you're not art people, that’s fine. How do you feel about sports then? You gamble?” You prattled on. Even if they did kill you, you wanted the satisfaction of annoying them.

________________________________________________________

Tommy negotiated with the man, sending him to an empty shipping yard. He didn't steal any drugs or money. Stuff like that was so far behind him that it was almost laughable. His daughter being held captive was not laughable. 

Alfie came up from London to storm the building with him. Alfie’s extra men went with Arthur and John to ambush the men going to the shipping yard. The whole thing was unbelievably stupid on Mr. Crowe’s part but he would meet the consequences nonetheless. 

As they parked outside the warehouse Tommy painfully waited until the rest of the men had the building surrounded. He knew better than to run head-first into traps these days. 

“No, see that’s where you're wrong. The issue is far more complicated than workers' rights. The aspect of the government being heavily involved in the lives of the people -” 

He followed the sound of your voice and found you tied to a chair with a large white light shining down on you. Two men looked possibly exhausted and frustrated. She prattled on about her views on Communism and shot down their defenses easily. 

“Not to late to leave her here mate.” Alfie joked and Tommy gave him an icy glare. He watched your eyes dart towards where they stood in the shadows. He saw the bruise forming on your cheek. 

Alfie wasn't in a joking mood anymore. 

“Boys I hate to change the subject as we were getting close to some interesting ideas. But we should move this back to religion. If you have one, I think you should make your peace.” They gave her a confused look. 

Tommy watched as Alfie went to untie you letting him start to have his way with the two men. 

______________________________________

“Put me down.” You growled. Alfie placed you down on the wet concrete in front of the building. 

“Not exactly a warm welcome.” He said looking at your cheek with anger in his eyes. 

“You suggested leaving me there!” 

“I just put 100 men on this mission to get you back, love. Leaving you there wasnt an option.” He answered easily 

“Then why did you say it.” Your eyes narrowed at him. He was your favorite person to argue with other than your dad. 

“I just thought it was funny that even when kidnapped you don't shut up.” 

“Do you want me to shut up?” A slight bit of hurt washed into your tone. 

“You wouldn't be my favorite niece if you did.” He ruffled the hair on your head and you were grateful he helped your dad.

________________

“So I started a re-read of the old testament.”

He let out a groan. 

Lizzie cried and threw her arms around you when you walked into the front door. You fought back your own tears as the reality of the situation hit you. Her embrace melted away all the anger that held you together. 

It was just you and her as your dad had to make phone calls to sort out the rest of the conflict. The tears started and she helped you upstairs to your room. 

“I just argued the whole time. I don't know why I’m crying now.” You tried to wipe your tears on the back of your hand. 

“Because you're still a girl at the end of the day.” Lizzie shrugged and helped you get into the bath. 

“Well, it’s stupid and I am not stupid.” You said trying again to stop the tears. 

“Darling, there is nothing stupid about your ability to feel. It’s what makes you exceptional.” She placed your robe and pajamas on the counter before leaving to give you some space. 

You got yourself sorted and were happy that the house was mostly empty. You stuffed yourself between your parents on the couch in the study. 

Your dad’s arm wrapped around you and you felt him hold on to you tightly.

[daisynik7]

Hi!! First of all, i love how you write♡ and i'm here to request some fem!reader x Eren where the reader tells him "i love you" many times. Context: both of them are friends and she isn't too much into alcohol, so, when she drinks a bit during a personal party, she tells him that when they are alone for a moment, don't caring if he likes her in that way, she just smile and tells him again and again

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

cw: alcohol consumption, friends-to-lovers, fluff, all characters are in their mid-twenties

Author’s Note: You are so sweet, thank you so much for the kind words and the cute request! I love writing fluff for Eren, so I hope you like this one! Divider by @/saradika.

Everyone knows you’re a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. One shot you can handle just fine. Two is pushing the limits. At three, your friends, have to keep you close by in case you go running off somewhere, causing trouble. And four is the stuff of legends that you rarely ever get to, except that one time that people still talk about to this day. 

Tonight, you reach three shots, and by the time the liquor hits your tongue and burns down your throat, you know it’s a mistake. That’s because tonight, you decide to confess to your best friend Eren that you’re madly in love with him. How does the saying go? Loose lips sink ships? Well, this ship is heading towards the abyss with no chance at resurfacing. It’s do or die, and alcohol has decided your fate.

After Jean blows out the candles on his birthday cake, the music starts back up again, the bass reverberating through the speakers. You grab Eren’s hand, pulling him towards the dancefloor, aka the living room. He’s got an amused expression on his face, watching you shimmy back and forth towards him. Occasionally, he’ll offer his hand to twirl you. That’s one thing you love about Eren: how easy it is to be with him. It’s effortless. Like all the stars aligning to create the perfect little moment, no matter where you are. You spin for him one more time, pausing to wrap your arms around his neck, peering up at him, mouthing the words, “I love you.”

He laughs, giving you a curious look. “What?” he yells out, the music blaring. 

Leaning closer, you cup the shell of his ear to say, “I love you.”

He grins, giving you a playful boop on the nose. “You’re drunk.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed at the failed attempt. While Eren can be completely in tune with you for the most part, sometimes he’s terribly oblivious. Which is why you’re still friends and nothing more, despite everyone claiming the two of you are basically married. Soulmates, even. Is he too scared to cross that line from friendship to lovers? Or is it worse; does he not feel the same way? 

You try a few more times during the party, whispering the words to him in the kitchen while he hands you a cup of water to sober up. He smirks, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re funny. Now chug it.” You say it to him when you’re outside on the balcony, watching the cityscape from the twentieth floor of Jean’s apartment, bright lights illuminating the night sky in the distance. He shakes his head, clicking his tongue at you. “You seriously can’t handle your liquor.” To him, it’s a joke. And you can’t tell if you’re offended or relieved. But that doesn’t stop you from trying. 

Fed up with each failed attempt, you decide to kick it up a notch. You reach for a shot glass, pouring yourself the fourth shot of the night. It’s dangerous, but desperate times call for drastic measures, right? You down it in one go, feeling powerful, maybe a little unhinged. 

And, of course, this backfires on you. Because at this point, Sasha and Mikasa rope you into a game of strip poker, and you keep removing articles of clothing even though you’re not the losing hand. It’s when you’re down to your bra that Eren pauses the game to take you home, resulting in a round of boos from the crowd. 

He drives you back to your apartment, patient as ever as you chant the same words to him. I love you, I love you. I love you, Eren. He continues to chuckle at you, totally unaware that you really mean it. 

Back home, he forces another cup of water on you, watching you with a pleasant grin on his face. He always looks at you like this, like you’re precious to him. In your bedroom, you manage to change into your pajamas and tuck yourself under the covers, the booze starting to wear off. There’s a soft knock on the door before he enters, wearing his own sweats. He’s staying the night, as usual. It’s a routine on the weekends; you go out to party or hang out with friends, and he crashes on your couch. But tonight is different. You want it to be different from here on out.

He sits beside you at the edge of the bed, laughing, tugging lightly at the tag sticking out from your collar. “Your shirt’s on backwards, doofus.”

“Hey! You’re the doofus,” you snap. “You weren’t even listening to what I was trying to tell you tonight.”

“What are you talking about? The love thing? I heard it the first time. I love you too, okay?”

“No, Eren,” you say, firmly. “I love you. Like, love love. I’m in love with you,” The words slip out of your mouth easily, as if they’ve been at the tip of your tongue for the longest time, waiting for release. 

He stares at you, jaw hanging open with shock and realization, eventually stammering, “You-you’re in love with me?”

You roll your eyes, shaking his shoulders, his head bobbling back and forth. “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole night!” 

“You told me you love me, not that you’re in love with me!” 

“What’s the difference?”

He doesn’t respond right away, staring at the tag still sticking out from your shirt. Eventually, he murmurs, “I don’t know what to say.” Clearly he’s rattled by your confession. Part of you wishes you hadn��t said anything at all, afraid of rejection. It’s too late now to take it all back. Is it ruined forever? You knew that fourth shot was a disaster waiting to happen.

You swallow hard, brain still a little hazy from the buzz. “Look, I’m sorry it came out like this, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I understand if you don’t feel the same way; I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

“That’s the thing, though. I do feel the same way.”

It’s your turn to be surprised. “What?”

He leans towards you, holding your hand in his, smiling. “I’m in love with you, too. I love you.”

And maybe it’s the shock of it all, or the booze landing it’s final blow, but his precious face canoodling yours is the last thing you remember before you pass out on the pillows, into the most poorly timed slumber.

When you wake up, it’s morning, and you’ve got a throbbing headache. Despite the obvious hangover, your memory is still intact, sitting up quickly to inspect your surroundings. It’s then that you notice Eren’s hand entwined with yours, sleeping soundly beside you. You lay back down, facing him, scooting closer until your noses are touching. Slowly, his eyes open, a sleepy grin spread across his face. “I just had the craziest dream.”

“Yeah? About what?” you ask, playing along.

“I dreamt that you were in love with me. And I was the happiest man in the world.”

“Well,” you start, squeezing his hand tighter. “Sorry to break it to you, but that wasn’t a dream.”

His smile widens. “Really?”

“Really,” you answer, brushing your lips over his. 

He kisses you back, whispering, “Then I truly am the happiest man in the world.”

[raewritez]

for the want of the sun | chapter 18: The Heist

When night comes, I’m ready. I’m ready to sneak around, I’m even hoping I’ll get to chi-block one of these guards. I’m practically tugging on Zuko’s arm to get him to our designated meeting place.

“Come on, they’re probably ready!” I whisper. He’s dragging his feet to annoy me, I’m sure. When we round the corner, Jet is there, leaning against the wooden post of the deck. His eyes lift lazily to greet us, and his mouth curls up in a smirk.

“There you are. We ready?”

Zuko and I nod. I feel the excitement thrumming through me, pushing me up onto my toes and keeping me bouncing. It’s been too long since I’ve done a good heist.

We discuss quietly under the heavy cover of the night, murmuring between ourselves as the adrenaline grows. Jet finally nods and gestures for the group to start forward. 

“Smellerbee, you take the lead. Scout out the area.”

I watch as she scales the wooden post, hopping above deck and disappearing. It’s a minute, two, before she pops back over the edge. “All clear,” she whispers.

Jet looks at Longshot, who raises his bow and situates an arrow with a rope attached to it. He fires at the tallest beam, just above Smellerbee’s head, who hisses in annoyance. The arrow burrows into the wood, and Longshot tugs on the rope, the material holding strong. 

“Okay,” Jet breathes. He looks at me. He lifts his arm toward the rope. “Ladies first.”

Feeling a bit nervous with everyone’s eyes on me, I walk forward. I try to meet Zuko’s eyes as I pass, but he’s looking upwards. I wrap my hands around the rope and pull, lifting my feet, the strain on my arms becoming evident as I wobble. Hey, it’s been a while.

I feel a warm hand placed on my shoulder, and Jet’s looking at me with a grin. I flush, a bit embarrassed, and a bit annoyed by his look that suggests he didn’t expect anything from me. He tilts his head to the side. “Need a boost?”

“Yeah, please,” I say begrudgingly. He kneels down beside me, cupping his hands and reaching for my foot. 

“There you go,” he whispers, his voice gravelly. “One, two, three.” I’m pushed upward, and I scramble to grab the rope as I pull myself the rest of the way. I reach for the floor of the upper-deck, grabbing onto the planks and shimmying onto my stomach. Smellerbee offers her hand and I grab it, using her to lift myself up.

“Thanks,” I say, watching as Jet pulls himself up effortlessly behind me. Then Longshot, then Zuko, who of course makes it look easy. 

When we’re all standing, Jet points forward in a “let’s go” gesture. The captain’s quarters are lit with lanterns, and there is the soft muttering of dinnertime chatter. We hurry single file, Jet in front, followed by Zuko and Longshot, and me in front of Smellerbee. We sneak around the corner, waiting for Jet to give the “OK” signal. When he looks back at us, we reach inside the windows, sweeping the food that rests on the windowsills, just taunting us. I pull out a box, smelling the familiar aroma of spicy chicken that has my mouth watering. I hand it to Longshot, who hands it to Zuko, who hands it to Jet. When we have all the dishes out of the room, we sneak below the windows, back to Longshot’s rope. 

“Hey!” A voice booms, and a heavy man rounds the corner where Jet is crouching. Quickly, I head the other way, going as fast as I can around the square structure. “What are you-” the man says, but he’s on the ground before he can finish his sentence. I jam my fingers into his pressure points, sending him crashing to the ground, silent. 

I look up, standing over him. “They probably heard that.”

Everyone’s looking at me with surprise, except for Zuko, who looks unphased. When no one moves, I hurry forward, picking up a box and running for the rope. “Let’s go!”

I bring the box close to my body and grip the rope with one hand, pushing myself off the ledge and hissing at the burn on my skin. When my feet touch the ground I set the food down, and gesture for Longshot, who’s at the top, to hand me his box. I reach and grab it, and he slides down the rope, offering a hand to help Smellerbee with her’s. Soon, we’re all down, and we conceal the boxes of food with our bodies, walking quickly to where Iroh waits for us.

“Not bad, sweetheart,” Jet whispers in my ear. I jump from the proximity, and he grins. For some reason, I find myself grinning back.

—

“Oh my spirits,” I groan, shoveling another dumpling into my mouth. My words are hardly audible, but I can’t bring myself to care. “This is so good. I could cry.”

“I think I am,” Iroh says, gazing fondly at his serving of green curry. He’s right, I think I see the sheen of tears in his eyes.

“From what I’ve heard, people eat like this every night in Ba Sing Se,” Jet says. “I can’t wait to set my eyes on that giant wall.”

“It’s a magnificent sight,” Iroh sighs.

Jet looks at him. “So you’ve been there before?”

“Once,” Iroh glances down. “When I was a different man.”

Eager to stop this conversation from progressing, I lean forward. “So, what brings you all to Ba Sing Se?”

Jet meets my eyes, surprisingly serious. “I’ve done some things in my past that I’m not proud of. That’s why I’m going to the city: for a new beginning. A second chance.”

“That’s very noble,” Iroh speaks sagely. “I believe people can change their lives if they want to. I believe in second chances.”

My eyes find Zuko, not even purposefully. He’s staring out at the ocean, looking tense. “Yeah,” I say softly. He glances over, finds me staring, and looks away.

“What about you?” Jet asks. “You’re all traveling together?”

I nod, giving him a smile. “Yeah. I guess you could say we’re going for the same reasons. Just a chance at a safer life.”

“Hmm,” he muses. “Come to think of it, I didn’t catch your name.”

He’s speaking to me, not Iroh or Zuko, and luckily I’m not important enough to have my name reveal anything incriminating about myself. “I’m Y/n.”

“Y/n,” he repeats. He smiles, not the cocky, teasing one I’ve grown used to in the past few hours, but a real one. “It’s nice to meet you. You’re not a bad fighter.”

“Well, yeah, she could’ve told you that,” Zuko scoffs, his voice startling both Jet and I out of our focus. Jet sends him a look, and his mouth curls up knowingly. I glare at Zuko in annoyance. If he has a chance to be hostile, he’ll take it, even to the person that just gave us the best meal we’d had in months. 

Jet stands. “Come with me,” he gestures to Zuko. He walks along the ship’s railing, and Zuko stares after him for a moment before following.

We all watch as they leave, curious. 

I turn to Smellerbee and Longshot. “So, where are you guys from?”

They share a look, and Smellerbee turns back to me. “The forest.”

I nod. “Oh. That’s cool. You guys have known each other a long time?”

“Yeah. Basically forever.”

I smile. “That’s nice. Same with me and…him.” I stop myself before I say the name of the Firelord’s son, instead pointing in the direction where he and Jet went. Nice save. “What do you want to do once you’re there?”

She rolls her eyes, but I can tell it’s not directed at me. “I just want to, you know, live my life. Without the fighting. Without the Fire Nation.”

I look down at my lap. I play with the string of fabric from my shirt. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

—-

taglist: @aquaamethyst96 @kaygilles

[outermaybanks]

Out of the Woods - ch 9

a/n: made this part longer only bc it's mostly dialogue BUTTTTT things... things are happening

prev ☆ next

We got John B to the hospital, and they said they’d stabilize him, he’d be okay. When he got released, we all met up at the Wreck. John B told us Ward Cameron had agreed to be his legal guardian, which meant he was safe from DCS, but it also meant he was living in Tannyhill, with Sarah Cameron, which didn’t bode well for his excuse of nothing going on between them.

I sat across from JJ, and I could feel his eyes burning a hole into my head. I couldn’t look at him. We never finished our conversation from the other night. “So, you’re living with Sarah Cameron,” Kie pointed out. “Look, the only reason I’m living there is because her dad bailed me out, alright? And it’s way better than foster care, which by the way, is where I was about to go if Ward didn’t-” “So do you have a membership to the clubs now?” Pope asked. “What about those golf carts they drive around, you get one of them?” “Does it come with a sweater vest or do you have to bring your own?” I asked, teasing him, which actually made him smile. It was the most I had given him since he spilled my secret to JJ.

“You promised. You said you weren’t with her.” “Just own it, man. She got you,” JJ spoke up. “Look if you want to hang out with her, that’s fine, but I’m letting you know right now that I’m not doing anything with Sarah.” “I’m on Kie’s side. Her brother is a psychopath,” I added. “Do you guys see her here? No, right, a little focus would be fantastic.”

We looked at the map, Kie pointed out the coast has changed, so we tried to find landmarks, and settled on a war fort, Battery Jasper. Once we got an overhead look, we got back in the van to try and find a stone wall, which we did, and of course it was behind the old Crain house, an old scary story from when we were kids. The woman who lived here murdered her husband.

JJ said Hollis Crain had been his babysitter, so he knew for a fact it was all true. “Maybe he deserved it,” I mumbled.  “Nah, no one deserves what she did-” JJ said before going into the story Hollis supposedly told him, ending with her pissing on her father’s severed head in the outhouse. But John B wouldn’t be deterred.

“Do you think JJ’s telling the truth?” Pope whispered to me, making me giggle.  “Yeah, Pope, I think Hollis Crain pissed on her dad’s severed head and never called the police on her mom. C’mon.” I grabbed his arm, pulling him along. John B found the entrance to the basement, and we all followed him in. It was full of random household objects that Mrs. Crain no longer had use for. JJ had a flashlight, so I followed behind him.

“Down came Mrs. Crain and cut off all our heads, up came the sun and dried up all the blood,” JJ sang like a lullaby. I smacked his arm, “Dude, could you knock it off? Pope’s about to piss himself.”

We couldn’t find any water, not even on the pipes. “Know why we didn’t find it?” Kie posed. “Bad karma.” “Oh god, here we go,” John B sighed. “You know, we had a good thing going. And then you decided to rope in Barbie, and now the trail’s gone dry. Coincidence? Probably not.” “This is exactly why I didn’t wanna tell you about Sarah. What the hell’s the deal with you two?" “Nothing.” “Nothing? Is it because I kissed you? Is that the problem?” The sound of a slap echoed through the basement. “Oh shit!” JJ reacted to Kie slapping John B. “Stop treating me like I’m some girl that’s obsessed with you instead of your best friend who’s actually trying to look out for you.” Kie stated. “Did you, uh, hit me?” John B questioned. “Skeeter,” Kie replied, holding up her hand. “Oh, okay-” John B said before slapping her back. “Where’s your proof?” Kie questioned, and John B held up his hand, with a dead mosquito on it, then the two starting playfully smacking each other, dropping the problem. 

Then, Pope realized the mosquitos were attracted to water, and pulled up some floorboards, revealing a well. “Well, well, well,” Pope joked. “4/10,” I replied. “Seriously?” “I thought it was a good dad joke,” John B spoke up. “They built this house right over it,” Kie said. “This is where she hid the bodies,” JJ whispered. “Dude, seriously? We’re about to go down there,” I said. “Not yet. We need a big rope,” John B spoke up. 

We quickly snuck out the way we came, and John B dropped us off at the Chateau before saying he had an errand to run. That errand ended up being picking up Sarah Cameron.

“No effing way,” Kie said, standing up. “You brought her here? So what? She’s in on this now?”  “Look, all I care about is her cut comes out of your share,” JJ said, pointing to John B. “You know, I don’t remember taking a vote,” Kie pointed out. “This is our thing, a Pogue thing.” Pope agreed with Kie, saying this made him a bit uncomfortable.

“You know we were all extremely comfortable until you brought her,” Kie said. “Speak for yourself, I’m still mad at John B," I spoke up. “Seriously Junie?” John B asked, and I turned to look at him.  “Look, all I’m saying is, you lied. You keep lying to us. Pogues don’t lie to each other. You shouldn’t have lied about what was going on, and you shouldn’t have said she wasn’t involved just to ambush us like this,” I argued. “What does she mean?” Sarah asked, turning to look at John B. “Uh-oh,” I heard JJ say. “Are you serious Junie?” John B raised his voice at me. “Yes, John B, I’m serious. Is she why you’ve been a shitty friend?!” I raised my voice. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Sarah asked, scrunching her face up a bit.  “John B knows exactly what I mean,” I replied. “No I’d love to know,” “Maybe it doesn’t involve you, because none of this involves you!” “I found the map, what exactly have you done, Juniper?”  “Hey!” JJ shouted. “Don’t talk to her like that, John B get your girl.” “JJ shut up,” John B replied. “She’s already causing problems between us,” Kie spoke up. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Sarah shouted. “Then leave!” Sarah looked to John B. “I told you.” “Told him what, exactly? That you’re a liar?” Kie questioned. “No, that you’re a shit talking bitch.” “Oh hell no-” I said, standing up. “The fuck did you just say?”

Then the three of us were shouting at each other, until John B yelled at all of us to shut up. “Kie, you are my best friend, right? And-And so are you, Junie, and I’m really sorry about what I said about JJ, but Sarah, she’s…She’s my…” “Say it,” Sarah said softly. “She’s my girlfriend.” “Oh, that’s new,” Pope spoke up. “She’s your girlfriend now? What was all that talk about just using her for information, get a map, cut her loose,” Kie questioned. “Did you say that, John B?” Sarah asked. “No.” “Oh my god, stop lying!” I shouted in annoyance. “You did,” Pope added. “Look, love just walked in, okay?” John B defended. “Gross,” I said while Kie said “Vomit.” “I didn’t expect it, it just- it kind of happened. And I’m not gonna deny it.” “Look, cut the bullshit, John B. If she’s in, I’m out,” Kie said. “I’m not doing this.” “You are gonna decide.” “I can’t!” “I’m very interested actually, me or her?” “Both,” John B said with a shrug. “Ohhh,” Pope grimaced. “He went for the Hail Mary,” JJ said.

Kie just shook her head and walked out. I kept my eyes on the door. “Junie…” John B said, making me turn to look at him. “C’mon… I thought if anyone understood not having control over who you get feelings for, it’d be you. I thought you’d have my back.” I was stunned into silence. “What the hell- Junie? What does he mean by that?” JJ questioned. I couldn’t look at him. “Are you fucking serious? How can you say you’re sorry and then do it again? I’m not only out, I’m done,” I walked over to grab my backpack out of the corner of the mudroom, and put it on over my knapsack. “Junie-” John B said, getting up and walking over to me. “What do you mean? What do you mean you’re done?” “Junie, what's he talkin' 'bout?” JJ and John B started talking over each other, both of them trying to get my attention, but I just grabbed my skateboard and practically threw myself out the door. I needed to be alone. I needed to cry, to scream. So I went to an isolated dock, staring out into the water always made me feel better. I wanted to run away. I wonder how far Yucatan is from here.

Once I finally calmed down, I went through my bag, sure enough, the envelopes of cash were still laying on top. I started walking back towards the Cut to find the motel, it wasn’t great, but it beat sleeping outside.

-

I used the motel’s laundry room to wash my clothes, then went outside. I’d get a cheaper price for the room if I spent the day gone, and came back at night. I considered going to Heyward’s to see if Pope’s dad had any jobs for me, but I really, really, couldn’t see JJ or John B right now. But, turns out fate had other plans. I went to the nearby skatepark, just to waste some time, but it wasn’t long before I saw the Twinkie pull up.

“Oh hell no…” I said to myself. Pope, JJ and John B all got out of the van, and all of them were staring right at me. “No fucking way.” “Grab ‘er!” JJ shouted, and then the three of them were chasing me. I dropped my skateboard to run faster, and looked behind me to see JJ had stopped to grab it, slowing him down, but I still had John B and Pope on my tail. I found a public bench and went to one side of it, John B was the closest, so me and him began the dance. He came one way I went the other.

“Junie- please- just talk to me.” “No!” “You’re being-” I went the other way. “Really immature right now.” “Me? You’re the one who tells all my secrets the second you’re in hot water!” John B came at me from one side, so I went the other way, but this time I collided with a body, one that wrapped their arms around me. “I got her!” Pope shouted.

“Pope, let me go, right now!” I screamed as he started to pick me up. “No can do, Junie.” “Get her in the van!” JJ called as he ran over.  “John B, get her legs.” “If you touch me, John B, I swear I’ll kick you in the face.” “Please don’t kick me, this is for your own good- ow!” John B held each of my legs so if I kicked he could avoid it, while Pope put his arms under mine to carry me like a heavy piece of furniture.

“Help!” I screamed. “Dude!” John B scolded. “I’m sorry, Junie,” Pope said before covering my mouth with his hand. JJ opened the door to the van, and John B and Pope carried me in. JJ hopped in behind them and slammed the door shut behind him, and Pope finally took his hand off my mouth.

“Seriously? Kidnapping? That’s what we’ve resorted to?” I questioned. “Oh yeah, you’re not even our first victim,” JJ said. “Way to make a girl feel special. Now let me out.” “No, you need to listen,” John B said. I clenched my jaw, and looked around me, almost all of my friends staring back at me.  “Where’s Kie?” “Victim numero dos,” JJ answered. “What?” “She’s working her problems out with Sarah, and now you need to work out your problem with me,” John B explained. I scoffed. “My problem? My problem is I thought I could trust you.” “Bugs-” “I really do not want to hear it from you right now,” I cut off JJ, and he held his hands up in surrender. “Then hear it from me. I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry that I tried to get the heat off of me by throwing you under the bus. That was shitty of me. Pogues don’t do that, Kooks do that. I never wanted to be someone who hurts my friends-” “You just kidnapped me,” I interjected. “To be fair bug, you got quite a temper on you,” JJ spoke up. “I thought I said I didn’t want to hear from you.” “Case in point,” JJ mumbled, and I shot him a glare. “Love ya, bugs.” “And-” John B said, getting our attention back on him. “I already told JJ that I was lying the other day in the marsh, so no worries, nothing’s weird.” 

I turned to look at JJ, who gave me a small smile.  “No…” I said. “What?” John B asked, worriedly. “I can’t be a hypocrite, John B. I was mad at you for lying, but I’ve been lying to JJ for 4 years. It’s time to man up,” I said, then looked to JJ. I couldn’t read his face, but he looked just as nervous as I felt. I took a deep breath. “John B was telling the truth. I’ve had a dumb little crush on you since we were like, 12, and everyone else noticed, and maybe you did too but you didn’t want to... I just didn’t want things to change between us. I didn’t want you to treat me differently for liking you, so I kept it a secret, and made everyone else keep it a secret. But last night I realized it got way out of hand, and now it’s ruining my friendship with John B when I should’ve just told you. So… now you know, J.” 

Silence.

“Wow,” Pope said. "That was… intense.” “Yeah…” I said awkwardly, avoiding JJ’s gaze. “But now, instead of us keeping it from JJ, we can all forget this ever happened. So, John B, back to your apology,” I turned and crossed my arms as I looked at him. “I’m sorry, Junie, I really am. I don’t know what came over me yesterday- and the other day. I’ve just been- so absorbed in my own shit, that I’ve been a shitty friend. And I don’t want to be. I want to be a good friend, I want you to trust me. So, Junie, what do I need to do to get you to forgive me.” “I want to see a backflip,” I said, very seriously. “What?” “First week of summer you promised me a backflip and never delivered.” “C’mon JB, you know the woman loves a good backflip,” JJ said. John B laughed, “Deal.” 

Pope quickly drove us back to the Chateau, and once we were there, John B got to work building a fire. I went to check the fridge for beer, but we had finished it off the other night.

“I’m gonna do a beer run!” I called as I closed the front door behind me. “Need some company?” JJ asked, coming closer. I felt it bubbling up, the embarrassment, the awkwardness. This is what I had been trying to avoid. “I can handle it.” “I’m the only one with a fake ID,” JJ said. “Yeah, and I got these” I said, gesturing to my breasts. “I’ll be fine.” “Don’t be weird, bug.” JJ said. “C’mon, we can take my bike.”

Keeping it a secret from JJ had built up this suspense, this fear that if he knew, the world would end. But now he did, and it didn’t, and I had to live in a world where my best friend knew I was in love with him.

“Safety first.” JJ said, handing me his helmet. I rolled my eyes as I put it on, sitting behind him and wrapping my arms around him. “Now, Junie, feel free to cop a feel-” “Shut your mouth or I’ll kill you.” “Okay, noted.” JJ replied before starting his bike and taking off. 

I was relieved, yes I had given JJ ammunition to tease me with, but at least that was normal. At least nothing changed. The drive to the liquor store was short, I let JJ pick out the case of beer, and I grabbed a bottle of Malibu and a bottle of coke.  “Hey, hey, can I get this?” JJ asked, holding up a bag of skittles. “Oooh yeah, find me some Nerds Gummy Clusters.” “Got it!” He called from the next aisle over. We walked over to the cashier, JJ handed them his fake, and I handed him the cash. “Thanks, sugar mama,” JJ said, kissing my head. There it was again. The awkward feeling. But it seemed to only be affecting me, and then I wondered if he was doing it on purpose. 

When we got back, the sun was starting to go down, John B had successfully started a fire, and Pope and him were sitting around the fire pit. “Oh thank god, we thought Junie killed you,” Pope spoke up as we came into side. “Excuse me? I buy you beer and you accuse me of homie-cide?” I joked, holding up the bag in my hand. “Good dad joke,” John B interjected. “I just figured JJ would tease you, or make inappropriate comments and you’d kill him.” “Okay that’s fair,” I replied, sitting down by the fire pit. 

JJ sat across from me. “Beer me,” He said, holding his hands up. I grabbed a beer from the case and threw it, but John B intercepted it, making me laugh before I grabbed another and threw it to JJ, then handed one to Pope. 

“I still can’t believe you trapped Kie on a boat with Sarah Cameron- actually- John B, I can’t believe you’re dating Sarah Cameron. Kook Princess.” I said before pouring some Malibu in my mouth, then washing it down with Coke.

“What can I say? Love doesn’t care about status,” John B replied, and I faked gagging, making Pope laugh. “John B, I thought you were gonna give my girl a backflip.” JJ spoke up, opening his beer. “Oh you wanna see a backflip, Junie? I’ll show you a backflip,” John B said, handing JJ his beer before standing up. I giggled when I watched JJ sneak a drink, despite having his own. “Woo! Go Jeeb!” I cheered as he walked to a clearing.  “Yeah! Go John B!” Pope joined in. 

John B put his hands behind him before he bent his knees, and jumped, flipping his body backwards. He fumbled the landing a bit, but to be fair, he usually did this into water.

“Yeah!” I shouted, clapping and cheering for him. “I still can’t believe that’s all you wanted,” JJ said as John B returned and took his beer back. “I mean, you could have asked John B to do anything, and all you wanted was to see a backflip?”  “He’s the only one who can do one,” I argued, grabbing the bottle of Malibu to take another drink, coke in hand. “I can’t watch your barbaric habits, I’m getting you a cup,” Pope said, getting up and heading into the Chateau. “Aww! Pope, you’re the sweetest!” I called, but he just flipped me off.  “Well? Was it everything you hoped it would be?” John B asked before taking a drink of his beer. “All that and more.” I replied sarcastically. “Thank you for your apology, Jeeb. Hopefully your plan for Kie and Sarah works, I don’t think she’ll settle for a backflip.” “Oh, it’ll work. I left them some primo bud, hydroponic,” JJ explained. “Damn I should’ve said I wanted that.”  “Your wish is my command,” JJ replied with a smirk, reaching behind him to grab his bag. 

I heard the door open and shut and turned around to see Pope returning with a red solo cup for me. “My hero!” I cheered. Pope rolled his eyes and held the cup out for me, when he reached me I pulled him down to kiss his cheek before taking the cup from him.

I poured some Malibu into the cup, then coke before taking a drink. “Careful, bugs, y’know what happens when you drink too much of that stuff.” I turned to see JJ lighting a blunt in the fire. “I think I deserve it after being chased and kidnapped. How’d you guys even know how to find me?” “We checked the beach, the abandoned house, Heyward’s, even the Wreck, JJ’s the one that thought to check the skatepark,” Pope answered.

I looked back over to JJ, now with a successfully lit blunt between his lips. JJ held my eye contact as he inhaled. Then he nodded his head and held the blunt up, so I stood and walked over to him, taking it from him. I took a couple hits, walking around the fire before handing it back to JJ, and taking another drink.

“Junie, truth or dare?” John B asked. “I’m not drunk enough for a dare… yet,” I replied, taking another drink. “Would you ever… date a Kook?” John B asked. “Hell no.” I answered. “No offense, John B, I just don’t think I could. Too different. Completely different views on the world.” “Sarah isn’t like that.” “Then I guess Sarah isn’t really a Kook,” I replied, which made JB smile. “Pope, truth or dare?” I asked, before taking the blunt back from JJ. “Truth,” Pope answered predictably. “When… was the last time you scored with a girl?” I asked before taking a hit. “Did Pope score with a girl and I missed it?” JJ asked, Pope smacked his arm in retaliation. “Last summer, bonfire party. Touron,” Pope answered proudly, JJ clapped with pride. “JJ, truth or dare?”

JJ had been in the middle of trying to take the blunt from me. “Tr- Dare.” JJ answered, before resuming his grabbing. I rolled my eyes and surrendered it to him. “I dare you to… kiss John B.” “What?” John B asked. “Pucker up sweetheart-” JJ said, getting up from his chair. He handed me back the blunt, then grabbed John B’s face before pulling him close, dramatically smashing his lips to his, making me and Pope damn near die of laughter when we saw John B’s face after.

“Bugs… truth or dare?” JJ asked. I don’t think I was ready for a truth from JJ. “Dare.” “I dare you to skinny dip.” “Pervert,” I replied with a smirk. “Fine. But you all watch from right here- no closer.” “You’re killing me here, Junie, really,” JJ said, and I smacked his arm before beginning the walk to the dock. Once I got there, I turned back, it was dark, even with the fire by them I could barely make out their faces. I quickly took off my clothes, and put them in a pile before I jumped into the water. I could hear claps and cheering when I emerged, I quickly pulled myself back onto the dock and did a bow before pulling my shirt on, my clothes stuck to my wet body, but honestly, the cold water kind of felt nice.

I quickly ran back to get warmed up by the fire. “John B… truth or dare.” “Well after that I’m gonna have to go with truth.”  “How in the hell did you and Sarah Cameron get close all of a sudden?” I asked, and John B told us about their ‘spy adventure’ in Chapel Hill.

“Ohhh, that explains why the note was signed from Vlad,” JJ spoke up. “Is that why you guys were at Midsummers?” I asked, and John B nodded. “I was helping my dad with oysters.” Pope added. “What were you doing at Midsummers?”  “Kie brought me because I was upset. John B.” “I did the backflip!” John B argued, making me giggle. “Ohhh is that why you were talking to that Kook?” “What’s this now?” JJ asked. “Junie was with a dude like the whole night,” Pope explained. “Only because he wouldn’t stop talking about himself,” I defended myself. “And he didn’t know I was a Pogue so-” “They always know. Kooks just- do you know what Rafe did?” “Besides jump Pope?” “They tried to jump me, 5 on 1, the only thing that saved my ass was that security guard coming in. Last thing Rafe said to me? ‘Tell Looney Junie she looks hot for a pogue’. So maybe don’t let your guard down just yet,” JJ said, putting the blunt back between his lips.

I grabbed it back. “I have no intentions of letting my guard down around Kooks. You don’t have to be jealous,” I teased before putting the blunt between my lips, John B and Pope letting out respective “ooohhhhs”. 

It was getting late, and I was desperate to change my clothes, so we all retired to the Chateau, it was my turn with the spare bed. “ Goodnight guys.” I said as I grabbed my bag off the table and headed towards the room.

“Yeah goodnight guys!” JJ called, and I turned to see him following, he shut the door behind him. “Uh- hi?” “Hey bug… I was hoping we could talk… didn’t exactly give me time to respond earlier,” JJ said. I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat. “JJ, I’m sorry that I kept it from you, and made our friends keep it from you. But like I said, I’m cool, I’m so cool, y’know, it’s not gonna be weird, I’m not gonna like… get jealous or anything, we can just forget about it, and-”

It took one step for JJ to reach me, his hands instantly coming up to cups my cheeks before pulling me into him, pressing our lips together. If I was smarter, I would have pulled away, preserved a line of boundary to save our friendship, but I had spent too many nights wondering what it would be like to kiss JJ, and this was better than anything I ever imagined. His lips were soft, despite the cut on them, and I could taste salt, but it was the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted, and I wanted more. But… then I remembered. This was JJ, my best friend, whom I tortured myself over to keep our friendship, I couldn’t give it up for a kiss.

So I forced myself to pull away. “JJ-” “Not yet-” He breathed out before crashing his lips back to mine, this time sliding his tongue in my mouth. It was even harder to pull myself away the second time. “JJ we- “I don’t want to forget.”  “What?” “I’ve been throwing myself at you since middle school, and now you tell me you like me back? I don’t want to forget that, I want to do the opposite- I want everyone to know.” My eyebrows screwed together, as I tried to take in what he was saying. “I don’t- I don’t understand-” “Yes you do, Junie. You know me, bugs. Why do you think I insist on us always sleeping together, why would I be willing to kill a man for putting his hands on you-” “Because we’re friends!” “Because I’m in love with you!” JJ countered, he was starting to get worked up, but I was too shocked by his words to be shocked by his volume.

“You don’t mean that, JJ. You love me the way you love Kie, we’re friends. I mean, you’re always hooking up with randoms-” “Random girls with blonde hair and green eyes and I give them your clothes, yeah that’s so normal.” It felt like a punch to the stomach. All the things I dismissed as closeness, were JJ’s attempts at something more. “J… We- we can’t. “Why the hell not?!” “Because! We’re in the middle of a treasure hunt to change our lives forever, we’ve been best friends since we were 8, you are one of the only good things I have and if something happens-” “Like what?” “Like if we dated and broke up. What would I have then, JJ? Nothing.” JJ’s jaw clenched and he turned away from me.

“JJ… I can’t lose you.” He turned back to look at me.  “So don’t. We’ve been through so much shit together, Junie, what could happen to tear us apart?” “So… what? We date, get married? Have 2.5 kids and live on Figure 8?” “Well… I have been told I resemble Harry Styles…” JJ said softly, making me chuckle sadly.  “I wish it were that easy. We’re 16, J… and y’know you think you want that now, fuck, I think I want that now-" "Fuck 16, I've known what I wanted since the day I met you."

How could words that give you butterflies also make you sick to your stomach? I bit my lip and looked down. "You could change your mind, and then we’d be left with nothing.” “Why? Why are those the only two options, get married or never speak to each other again?” He sounded desperate, and I hated myself for doing this to him. But I couldn't lose him, not JJ. “I haven’t seen any of your other hookups hanging around.” “You’re not just a hookup though, Junie… You’re my girl.” “So you’re telling me you think that we could date, have something so bad happen that we break up, and we could still be friends?” “Yes! Because there is nothing in this world you could do that would make me be okay with losing you..”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I was scared that if I said it back to him, I would end up finding out something so bad it could make me be okay with losing him, and that was the scariest thought of all.

“Say something,” JJ begged softly. “I don’t know what to say…”

JJ looked hurt, but he looked down to hide it, and bit his lip before turning back for the door, opening it and leaving without another word. The silence that followed the loud slamming of the door was deafening. The bed felt too big, lonely and cold without him suffocating me.

©outermaybanks 2024 taglist: @lilliebellee

[demigoddessqueens]

Hello! First I just want to mention that I love your post about VM, Castlevania, etc.. and you're reblogs of runway shows (I'm working to be a designer myself and they give me so much inspiration because of you!) and could I request on How would the VM crew react if they had a full proof plan to save the reader from being kidnapped and when they are about to start the plan all of the sudden they here, "uhm what are you guys doing?" next to them and all of the sudden they turn to see the reader escaped themselves.

Aww 🥰 🥹 I hope you achieve your goal in fashion design and wish you all the best of luck!

Also, this request is funny, Like it’s a whole “we were worried!!”, “why? I got free?!”

Percy

He’s the worst one of the group who is sick with worry over you! Going over the plan repeatedly through gritted teeth, his patience wears as he’s interrupted every other sentence until he finally snaps. “Percy…”, “wHaT??!”. Only he turns to find everyone else with a type of 😑 expression and you free from your binds.

Grog

Mad and wants to rage against whoever or whatever has captured you! Saying out loud what he’s going to do as an attack, he still feels Pike pulling at his tunic to get attention. “Not now Pikey, I’m trying to rescue ‘em!” “No, ugh Grog turn around!” He sees you waving casually at him with a smug grin.

Pike

If she could, a summon from Sarenrae could wipe those assholes out but she’ll never take the chance of potentially hurting you. Lost in her thoughts, Pike feels Grog pick her up by her shoulders and turn her around to see you standing there free but some of the rope burns still there.

Vex’ahlia

Third most worried of the group! Fiercely calling out orders with a tinge of worry in her voice, she’s prepping her now from the Echo Tree. Percy and Vax try to get her attention before she sharply snaps back! “What is so damned imp—?”, and behold there you are with a sheepish grin.

Keyleth

A bundle of nerves and anger, and is about to morph into Minxie form. This is the maddest most have seen her, so they try to not rule up even more as you make your way over. Rather instead, she hears you call out to her as she sees you safe and free. Anger subsiding, Keyleth just wraps you into the tightest hug.

Vax’ildan

Second most worried of the group!! He’s mad, anxious, frustrated, all the feelings! Armed with a Vestige and his weapons, he could make quick work of these thugs and carry you away. Just as he’s about to rescue you, Vex alerts him to turn around. There you are with a shy “hello sweetie” as he feels relief.

Scanlan

He’s worried as hell, but also extremely frustrated. Who the hell do these jerks think they are kidnapping you like this? Of course he just wants to charge in, magic blazing, but that grand scheme evaporates when Pike and Grog turn him around to see you. He wastes no time to jump into his arms but not before a “aww!! Now how can I make a cool song about this??”. “Good to see you too, Scanbo.”

[averseunhinged]

wip wednesday! because things are happening in my brain again!!! i wrote like 5k on the soulmate au, amongst other things. hooray!

if you want to read the previous snippets in order, i'm pr sure it's

this

then this week's

this

and then this

Caroline turned around to face them while pulling a black, sleeveless top over her head. "His brother's in love with me. And I do not have time to distract Klaus from anything, okay? I'm all booked up with everyone else's problems." In quick, frustrated movements, she pulled on a pair of socks, easily balancing. "I have vampires to teach and hunters to kill and best friends to rescue from prison dimensions and a mom I can't visit, and maybe it makes me selfish, but I would, in fact, like to go back to school next semester. I don't know how long I'm going to be able to compel this room if I never take any classes."

As though the conversation was over, she left him standing there and rummaged in a closet. Ivy looked at him and shrugged apologetically.

"Am I allowed to contribute now?" he inquired.

Caroline retrieved a pair of boots from the closet. She stepped into and zipped them and went back for a black jacket. "The only contributions I need are sorry for bothering you, Caroline or I can solve your problems, Caroline."

"I can solve your problems, Caroline," he parroted in good humor.

She rolled her eyes. "You cannot."

He straightened first his sleeves, then his shoulders and clasped his hands together. "I have over a thousand years of experience and accumulated resources. Of course I can solve your problems."

"A thousand years?" Ivy squeaked.

"You know, I was impressed when I found out Stefan's, like, a hundred and sixty," Caroline said.

"Ew," Ivy moaned. "I can't believe I slept with a guy who was around when slavery was cool. The top of my dating range is usually twenty-seven."

"But," Caroline quickly continued, "it stops being that interesting once you realize the level of freaking ineptitude they all exist in. No offense, Elijah, but your family usually creates problems, not solves them.”

“The level of disarray you’ve witnessed is not quite our norm. This has been a time of great upheaval. Only the first hundred years or so were less stable.”

“I know,” she admitted. After dropping her jacket on the bed, she crouched down next to Ivy. “What do you think? What should I take?"

"Well," she contemplated. "Crossbow's bulky, but it'll keep you away from stakes and vervain. There's a handgun with a silencer, too."

"I'm decent with a hunting rifle, but not the best shot with a handgun. Same with crossbow. I'm good with composite, but these old school hunter ‘bows are something else. I wouldn't trust my aim."

Ivy held up a leather bag. "Bullwhip?"

"Seriously?"

"Okay, no whip."

"I'll carry a knife. Soaking ropes in vervain is a pretty common way to restrain us."

“That sounds awful. It would never stop burning, right?”

“Like I said, benefit from my experience.” Caroline glanced over the remaining weapons and vials, biting her lip, lost in thought. “But if you do end up in a situation like that, what’s worked for me is to let myself feel it. Don’t get lost in the pain, but let it out. People who are willing to hurt you usually want to see a reaction. So, scream, cry, whatever you need to. There’s a chance they’ll underestimate you, too. We’re young, pretty, and girly. People expect us to be weak, because misogyny exists, even for vampires. Use that. If you can keep your head, you can watch for a chance to escape.”

“Wow. I can’t believe I thought being a vampire was going to be fun.”

“It is! I don’t mean to make you think it's all doom and gloom and torture and trying not to murder every tasty-smelling human you meet. Hunters are kind of a cult, and creepy, witchy crafting projects are definitely a thing, but they aren't everything." 

"Does that mean you don't want to bring any witch stuff with you?"

Caroline wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Absolutely not. That stuff makes my skin crawl."

"So, we're back to just the knife, but if you're close enough to use a knife on a human, you may as well snap their neck," Ivy said, frowning, as she sorted through a few knives in sheaths.

Caroline rested her hand on the other woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Enzo was looking for an excuse." She offered a knife small enough for Caroline to hide under her jacket, but large enough to be useful. "Besides, it's not so bad. My bucket list was really long, and now I'll have time for all of it."

"Thanks, Ivy." Caroline accepted the knife with a sweet smile.

"If I might make a suggestion?" Elijah contributed.

"Fine, sure." She stood and tucked the knife against her back, hooking the sheathe over her waistband. “Grace me with your centuries of wisdom or whatever.”

Elijah picked up her jacket before she could. He shook it out and held it up to help her put it on.

"Say what they will about you Mikaelson boys, but you do have manners when you care to use them," she said with a tart sort of approval in her voice.

"One does what one can," he agreed, adjusting the shoulders for her and stepping back to make sure the spot where the knife rucked up her tank top was sufficiently disguised. "Quite well hidden," he approved. "I believe it would be in all our best interests if I accompanied you on your mission. I assume you were planning on undertaking it alone?"

"We've had this argument already," Ivy spoke up from where she was repacking weapons.

"I'm not throwing Ivy into a fight until she has better control." Caroline crossed her arms over her chest and looked sternly at them both. "There's too much of a chance she'll be distracted by blood."

"Agreed. That is how most young vampires meet their end." He ignored Ivy's discontent grumbling and continued, "You're not so long turned yourself, Miss Forbes. While I would not dare to question your competence, allow an old man his peace of mind."

"And I'll be a captive audience for you to tell all about your brother's latest debacle," she shrewdly guessed. "Fine. Yes. I could get Enzo out on my own, don't think I couldn't, but it'll probably be tidier with someone who's been a vampire longer than two minutes."

"Great!" Ivy was cheerfully relieved when she bounced to her feet. "I was going to be really upset if you got killed rescuing the worst person ever."

"He definitely is not the worst person ever. You haven't met Damon yet."

[sparkypantaloons]

It's not the years, honey, it's the mileage

Jason really, really, really hates Halloween. But then he's just been kidnapped by a cult who are convinced he can give them immortality, so can you blame him?

~~

Fucking Halloween.

Jason has aways hated it. Hated it when he lived down on Crime Alley and it didn’t need to be October 31 for the worst kind of tricks. Hated it when he moved to the Manor, with its creaking floorboards and overgrown trees and fucking bats. Hates it even more now, now he’s old enough to see what it does to people in this city. Understand how it takes desperation and twists it into something grotesque. Pushes people over the edge and into the darkness.

He hates darkness too. Reminds him too much of the closet Willis used to shut him in for days at a time. Of the Manor before dawn, when he never knew if Bruce had made it home safely after a night on patrol. Of his grave… and the deep dark earth he spent an eternity clawing his way out of.

It’s dark now. And not just because of the blindfold; wrapped too tight around his head, pounding a migraine into the marrow of his skull. Wherever he is, is dark. It smells of the dark; of desperation and madness and rot, and it’s suffocating. Smothers itself against his skin, forces itself into his mouth, his lungs, his blood.

Fucking Halloween.

He’s strung up by his wrists. Shirt stripped away, skin sliced across his torso in patterns and runes; blood slow and fat dragging itself down his flesh. His shoulders are screaming, burning with his own weight. There’s a gag pressed in his mouth, his left leg is broken, and too many wandering hands to think about.

Somewhere along the way, somewhere between the Pit, and the League and the Bats, whispers had spread; quiet words on a swift winds. Red Hood had died, but he wasn’t dead. Red Hood lived, but he wasn’t alive. Murdered by the Joker, but still haunting the streets of Gotham. He’s immortal, they said. Deathless. Eternal. Endless.

As if one lifetime wasn’t enough in this god forsaken city.

He’d heard the rumours. Enjoyed them, even. Let the filth of this city wonder. He had thought. Let them fear, that Red Hood will always come for them.

He should have known something like this would happen.

It was out-of-towners who had grabbed him. Nobody from Gotham would be stupid enough to try it. Nobody from Gotham would be smart enough to pull it off. It had been a kid, see. And Jason had fallen for it hook line and sinker. She can’t have been more than six. Pressed into the shadows by his safehouse, eyes wide and desperate.

“There’s a boat.” Her words had been barely more than a whisper. “There’s a boat and kids don’t come back from there.” Her fingers had clung to the cuff of his jacket, knuckles white, hand shaking. “Please.” She’d begged. “Please help us.”

Jason wasn’t an idiot, even if he was a sucker for a desperate kid. He’d done his research, done his surveillance, he’d planned. Watched and waited and deliberated. And then he’d struck, when the moment was right. No. It had been more than right, it had been perfect. Of course it had been. Because the whole thing had been a fucking set up.

They’d been on him before he’d even unhooked his grapple. Hands, so many of them, grabbing and pulling at him from the darkness. Ripping his jacket from his shoulders, forcing him to his knees, binding his limbs with course rope. And he’d fought, of course he’d fought, but there had been so many of them. Too many.

“Oh ancient one, born before time’s dawn, on this night of night’s where the living and the dead become one, hear our call.”

“Antiqui ante auroram

cui per hoc immortale

vas manat donum

da nobis aeternum.”

The chanting had lasted for hours. So had the torture. Jason’s Latin was rusty, but he’s pretty sure they were asking an ancient time lord to make them immortal. Somehow convinced that he, or at least bits of him, were the ingredients they needed to make it a reality. A literal pound of flesh, bones and blood.

Then it had all gone silent, and he’d been left here hanging for what felt like hours now.

Alone…

In the darkness…

Fucking Halloween.

~

Fucking Jason. Dick thinks, scowling to himself as he makes his way carefully through Jason’s safehouse. He’s already been caught by two booby traps - because no matter what the younger man says, knives that fling themselves at you from across the room are not a ‘security measure’ - and he doesn’t doubt that there a more to come.

Jason’s been missing for twelve hours now. And normally Dick wouldn’t worry, because frankly, Jason loves drama, and he loves dropping off the radar even more. But he promised Alfred he’d be over for Sunday lunch and he didn’t show. Didn’t respond either, when their pseudo-grandfather called to give him a ‘stern talking to’. The older man had called Dick next, asked him to check in.

Dick could do without the babysitting. He loves Jason, he does. But Jason is still his kid brother, even if he is six foot two of solid muscle, and he’s still a pain in the ass. Dick had plans tonight. Really good ones. Ones that didn’t involve a literal mace swinging down from the ceiling, just because he sat on the couch for five minutes.

Whatever happened to Jason, it didn’t happen here. Knowing him, the whole place is probably set to explode if too many trick or treaters knock at the door… the thought doens’t make Dick feel any better.

He’d tried to access Jason’s files remotely. Had even asked Babs to help with the ones that were off-network. But there was some things Jason still did old school, like surveillance notes, literally written by hand. Physical maps on walls and red strings connecting photos of suspects and post-it notes covered in question marks. That nonsense was normally in his bedroom. Dick just had to get there without getting decapitated by a boomerang or something.

It takes him another half an hour to make it across the apartment safely. It pays off, because the desk in the bedroom has everything he needs, even if it’s none of what he wants.

It looks like a trafficking ring, is meant to look like a trafficking ring. And if it weren’t for one of the photos, of a short man with a pinched face, Dick would probably think it was one too. Jason had been watching them for nearly two weeks, documenting who the key players were and their movements. How they operated and who they reported to.

But it was all a ruse. The short man, Ozul Abaddon, is no trafficker. He’s a cult leader, one obsessed with immortality at any cost. Dick and Bruce had faced him years ago, in the earliest days of Batman and Robin. He must have done his time in Blackgate and finally reared his ugly little head again.

Dread churns in Dick’s gut and it’s nothing to do with having to head back across the apartment. If Abaddon has Jason, then Jason’s in trouble. Big trouble.

“Pennyone?” He puts a call back to the Cave.

“Nightwing.” Comes the response. “How can I be of service?”

“I need you to put the call out to the family. Red Hood’s in trouble. Serious trouble. We need everyone looking for him.” Dick pauses, and in his mind’s eye can see Alfred nod and already get to work. “I need you to send me everything we have on Ozul Abaddon. Bruce and I sent him to Blackgate back when I was still Robin. I need to know how long he’s been out and what he’s been doing. Who he’s with and where he’s doing it. Anything we might have. Send it to Jason’s computer.”

“Very good.” Comes the response. “Sending now.”

~

The chanting is back. So is the knife. By this point, Jason is too delirious with pain and blood loss to do anything but groan into the gag. Let his head roll on his shoulders and his only good leg sag beneath him. He still can’t see anything, still can’t smell anything except the copper of his own blood and the putrid stench beneath it. Still can’t feel anything but pain in his head and his shoulders and his leg, and wandering hands pawing at his body. Fondling at his flesh, searching for where to slice next.

“Sanguis effundet secretum tuum,

sanguis effundet secretum tuum,

sanguis effundet secretum tuum.”

A blade slips beneath his ribs, deeper than any cut before, and hot liquid begins to pour from Jason’s side.

God he hates Halloween.

~

Dick hates being right. When he knows something is bad, damn is it bad. And this? This was really fucking bad.

Once he had all of Jason’s research together, along with Bruce’s files on Abaddon, it only took him ten minutes to figure out where the cult must be operating from. What it is they want from Jason. And in typical Gotham fashion, it’s all kinds of awful. An old abandoned abattoir on the outskirts of the city. Because of course a cult obsessed with immortality would set up base in shop of death. Of course. Couldn’t be an old florist could it? Wouldn’t be a former bakery, or perhaps a nice little coffee house. No, no definitely not. Just a hideous, stinking, old slaughterhouse.

Even from the outside it reeks. An overwhelming stench of decay and rot, drifting out into the night air. Tainting each breath in, with death.

“Thermal imagery from the satellite suggests there could be at least 100 of them in there.” Oracle says over the comm.

Dick is sure he hears Bruce growl at that. Cass actually flexes her fingers, looks a little to eager to get to work. If Dick didn’t feel quite so full of dread, he’d probably be the same.

“Spoiler, Signal, you take the south entrance.” He says. “Batman, Robin, the west. Red Robin, Batwoman you’re on east, Orphan, you’ve got the north. I’ll take the roof.” He pauses. “There’s every chance these guys will think they’re immortal now, so they’ll be fighting with a point to prove.”

“I have a point they can prove.” Damian says, hand on the hilt of his sword. If the situation weren’t so grim, Dick would be proud of such a pun.

~

There’s a noise. A growing din beneath the chanting, and then there’s shrieking. Shrieking and screams and shouts, and the unmistakeable sound of kevlar on flesh.

About bloody time, Jason thinks, sardonically and then suddenly there are hands on him again. But they’re different this time. They’re gentle, careful. Work at removing his blindfold, his gag.

“Morning, sunshine.” Dick says, as the blindfold falls away from Jason’s face. Behind him, the rest of the Bats face off against the cultists. Jason would almost feel touched so many of them showed up to help, if he weren’t feeling so spectacularly awful right now.

“Easy, little wing.” Dick soothes, when the gag doesn’t come away as easy as the blindfold. “I’ve almost got it.”

Jason chokes as it falls away, spits out blood and mucus and god knows what else. “Wha— what took you so long?” He coughs, still hanging limply by his wrists.

“Getting through your safe house is like Raiders of the Lost Ark,” Dick replies. “You got a giant boulder in there too, ready to chase me down?”

Jason has a witty response on the tip of his tongue, but the words are too heavy for him to get out. He slumps against Dick as the older man finally frees his wrists.

“Easy, Jay.” Dick soothes. “I’ve got you.” He manoeuvres Jason to the floor, starts checking over his wounds. “Shit Jay.” He eyes the most recent stab wound. “I’m going to have to pack this.”

Jason shakes his head. “No, no.” The words slur together. “Be fine. Less juss go.”

“I’m sorry, Jay.” Dick says gently, and he’s pulling gauze from his suit. “I’ll be quick.”

“No,” Jason moans. “No, please Dickie, please don’—” He tries to push Dick’s hands away, tries to fight the older man’s insistent care.

Dick holds them down easily as if they were paper. “I’ll be quick, I promi—”

Jason cries out, louder and more desperate than he has all night, as Dick packs the wound with gauze. His fingers pushing deep into the wound. He works quickly, grimaces as Jason screams, every time the knife wound absorbs more and more dressings.

“Dick, please.” Jason sobs, hands still weakly pushing at Dick as he works. “Leave it, just—”

Another scream, and Dick flinches against the sound. Fingers fumbling as they work and then “I’m done, I’m done!” He promises, squeezes Jason’s hand. “You’re okay, Jay. You’re okay.”

Tears still roll down Jason’s temples. He shakes his head miserably. “I fucking hate Halloween.”

~

It’s gone midnight by the time Jason is fully patched up. He’s in the medbay in the Cave. His leg set with a splint, the deep cuts stitched closed, vaseline over the runes that have been carved into his skin to prevent scarring, and an IV line set up into his arm.

Dick pulls up a chair next to the bed. “So,” He begins. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Jason gives him an unimpressed look. “I don’t want any news, can’t you just let me sleep?”

“Bad news first, excellent.” Dick grins. “Alfred is still pissed you missed Sunday lunch.”

Jason’s eyes bug out of his head for a minute. “I was literally kidnapped by a cult to be their sacrifice.”

Dick shrugs. “Sounds like a you problem.”

“You’re such an asshole.” Jason mutters.

“You’re the asshole! Why do you have so many medieval booby traps in your apartment?”

“They’re not booby traps, they’re security measures—”

“They’re booby traps.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dickface.” He grumbles. “What’s the good news?”

“The good news,” Dick replies. “Is that it’s not Halloween anymore.” And for the first time that night, Jason does actually look relieved.

“Happy November 1st, Jay.”

[flowersarefreetherapy]

My Love Is Mine All Mine

CW: hospital setting, character death, mourning, unhealthy relationships, pet whump, brief violence, implied past violence, implied past noncon, brief mention of disordered eating, begging, sexually degrading language, self harm (not graphic or a lot, but it in here), self-blame

The heart monitor beeps out a steady rhythm, one Cameron finds himself counting in a desperate attempt to hold on to hope. His tailbone goes numb and he shifts on the cold plastic chair, trying to move as little as possible. 

Angelina and Andrew don’t pay attention to him. She sits at her father’s bedside, Andrew’s hand on her thigh, scrolling through Instagram. Emmaleigh slumps on the chair next to Cameron, eyes glued to her iPad screen. Lucas, Angelina’s brother, just left, saying something about talking to a lawyer and coming back at a later time. Cameron doesn’t want to pay attention. He wants to be at Patrick’s side, curled up close like he is supposed to be. Not trapped in a corner of the room with a literal child. 

“Mom!” Emmaleigh whines. “I’m hungry!”

Angelina’s gaze remains locked on her phone. “Andrew, would you take her to get some food? I don’t want to leave Father.”

Andrew nods. “Come on, Emma. Let’s go get something from the cafe.”

“No! I want McDonald’s!”

Cameron rolls his eyes. Of course she wants McDonald’s. Maybe they could bring some back and he could try the fries? They look so good on the television and he’s wanted to try them for years. Patrick never let him. That much grease and fast food ruins his figure. Cameron knows this. 

But you won’t have to worry about what you eat much longer, will you? 

No. Patrick is going to be okay. This is just a small cold. It’s nothing awful. He’s strong and has good lungs and whatever the doctors say, they’re wrong. They don’t know his master like he does. 

Andrew gives in, as he always does. Soon it is just Cameron and Angelina in the room with Patrick. She still isn’t paying him any attention. Nor is she looking at Patrick. Cameron swallows back a scream. This is her father in the hospital and she doesn’t care! He cares! He could take better care of Patrick than anyone here! 

The chair creaks as Cameron stands and walks over to the hospital bed. He moves softly, relying on all his training to stay as quiet as possible. Angelina doesn’t look up. Cameron perches on the edge of the bed and takes Patrick’s hand. It feels so much weaker than he remembers. Thin, papery skin and fragile bones when he remembers a strong, unwavering grip pushing the knife through his skin. 

Cameron swallows back a sob and curls up next to his master. There’s barely any room on the bed, but he folds his knees close to his chest, resting his head on Patrick’s chest. He can hear every breath rattle in his lungs. It’s alright, there’s medicine and monitors and this will be okay. His master is strong. He can survive this. 

Angelina scoffs, but doesn’t move him from the bed. Cameron is grateful for the small blessing. The sterile air of a hospital burns his nose, bringing back other memories. He squeezes his eyes shut against the white light, grabbing his master’s hand. 

You aren’t there. You aren’t there. You have a master. Someone chose you, remember? You weren’t abandoned. 

The beeping and shallow breathing pulls him into a half-wake trance. Cameron’s eyelids grow heavy. For a moment, he’s back in their bed, the thick comforter keeping him down as his master shifts next to him. He’ll be awake soon. Will it be the knife? Or the ropes? Or maybe just round after round that will leave him bleeding in the shower? A shudder of pleasure slips down Cameron’s spine at the thought. 

Fingers dig into his shoulder. Yanking him from the bed. Cameron cries out as his head hits the wall, a blow hard enough to blur his vision. He blinks hard. White coats and shouting, so much shouting. Drawn out beeps. Light glints off a needle and Cameron flinches. He folds himself in a corner, hugging his knees tightly to his chest. 

“Please, please, please, I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’ll be good, I’ll be better, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, so sorry.”

Where is his master? Where is he? Why hasn’t he come for him? Cameron blinks back tears. It’ll be okay. Patrick will get him. He’ll pick him up and kiss him, tasting like whiskey and cigars, and he’ll be safe. Cameron knows he’s safe. He hasn’t been sent back there. He’s been too good for his master to have that happen.

Silence. Emmaleigh crying. Angelina stands stiffly, expressionless. Cameron uncurls, ignoring the annoyed looks from the doctors. They’ve hated him from the moment he was brought here. It doesn’t matter to him anyway. 

“. . . what happened?” he whispers. 

Emmaleigh cries harder. The iPad lays forgotten on that stupid chair. Cameron crawls to the edge of the hospital bed. It’s too quiet. 

Don’t look. Don’t ask. You know. Just sit in the corner and hope they forget about you. Don’t make this worse than it already is. 

His master’s face is lax and pale, a shade Cameron has only seen once before. A Guard trainee who was supposed to show him his place, only to die overnight from what the handlers called internal bleeding. He’s seen death before. He knows what it looks like. But it doesn’t happen to those he loves. It isn’t supposed to happen to his master. 

“Sir?” Cameron whispers, grabbing his master’s hand. It’s cold. Bile burns the back of his throat. “Sir, please, say something. I-please don’t leave me!”

“Get away from my father, whore!” Angelina’s nails scrap across his scalp as she pulls him away. Cameron yelps, scrambling to ease the sudden pain. “Don’t you dare pretend you cared about him! All you cared about was who would fuck you!” 

“Please!” Cameron sobs. Tears burn down his cheeks. Patrick said he was a pretty crier, that he looked best when he cried. “Please, please, I love him! Please, let me say goodbye!”

Angelina shakes his head. His head hits the stupid plastic chair. White explodes across his vision and Cameron swallows back a sob. Angelina’s voice rises, but he can’t hear a single word she says. His knees hurt, his vision blurs from tears and pain, and he can’t draw in a full breath. Cameron stares at the hospital bed, blinking hard. Maybe he can see his master again. One more time. 

Then Angelin’s fingers are no longer in his hair. Andrew holds her and Emmaleigh tightly, all three of them crying. Cameron huddles against the wall. He can’t breathe. His chest throbs with pain and no amount of crying lessens it. He curls up again and screams into his knees. Quiet. Patrick prefers–no, preferred. He’s gone now, remember, idiot?--to hear him scream. Loud and painful and Cameron rakes his nails across his skin in an effort to feel the shattering of his heart be mirrored across his skin.

The family slowly collects personal belongings. There’s not a lot. Patrick was sick suddenly. Cameron flinches. This is his fault. If he hadn’t insisted on going ice skating, then Patrick wouldn’t have gotten sick, and this wouldn’t have happened. His fault. His master died because he was a selfish, horrible Pet.

My master’s desires are my own. My master’s desires are my own. My master’s desires are my own. I am not my own. I belong to my master, I belong to my master, I belong to my master. 

. . . who do I belong to?

“Get up, slut.”

Andrew grips his arm and hauls him to his feet. Cameron stumbles beside him, suddenly feeling far too cold in his crop top and tights. The nurses and other patients stare at him. For the first time in years, heat creeps up his cheeks and down his neck. He ducks his head and focuses only on the too-white tile under his feet. 

It’s odd. Walking outside, hearing traffic, feeling the winter wind against his face, sunlight sparkling off the light dusting of snow that fell overnight–and knowing his master is dead. 

Dead.

Cameron chokes on a sob. His master is dead. Gone. Truly gone.

“Shut up,” Andrew snaps. “I don’t know why you’re so weepy. You are nothing but a sidepiece and a bedwarmer. You never cared about him.”

I did! I loved him and he loved me and we were going to have forever! He was never, ever going to leave me!

The words stick in his throat and all Cameron can do is cry. He doesn’t stop, not even when he’s shoved into the backseat of Angelina’s car and told to stay quiet. Emmaleigh’s sobs cover the sound of his own.

We were supposed to have forever. 

[ask-spider-punk-13666]

Bloodletting

Continued from here Wordcount: ~900 CW: internalized homophobia, references to period-typical homophobia, slurs used for self-identification

⛧ ────── ⟨ ⚛ ⟩ ────── ⛧

Tommy wipes his palms on his pant legs for the fourth time in as many minutes, gritting his teeth in frustration. Why is this so hard? Either she'll take it well, or she won't, but not knowing is worse, and he's never going to know anything if he just keeps sitting here without saying it.

"Gwyn, there's something I need to tell you," he says. He can't look at her, though, so he stares at his shoes instead. The sole is starting to come loose, but he can't afford a new pair.

"Of course, babe. You can tell me anything."

Tommy doesn't wince at the endearment, too used to Gwyn's casual affection, but it chafes at him, somewhere deep below the surface.

"I'm not who you think I am. I've been lying to you, to my Uncle, to everyone, and I'm tired. I can't keep hiding from you, Gwyn. You're my best friend," he says, hating how his voice is getting tight, or how he keeps babbling instead of getting to the fucking point.

"Tommy..." she says gently, mattress sinking when she sits down next to him. "It's okay. I already know."

...what?

Tommy’s blood runs cold. Had he been so obvious, even before he figured it out for himself? His thoughts are racing, wondering if she’d noticed how focused he’d been when they watched John Travolta prance around a Ford De Luxe on movie night, or maybe she’d seen how his eyes had lingered a little too long when Harry Osborn climbed the rope in gym class. Have other people noticed? How long until he stopped knowing even a minute of peace? Until even the adults who tolerated him left him for the wolves? What about his uncle?

"What? What do you mean, 'you know?'"

"The lying, the missed practices, the bruises. You're Spider-Punk. I've known for a while."

Yeah, Tommy definitely missed something.

He gapes, for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times without a sound before he manages to find his words—

"What? No."

—and then they just don't stop.

"I mean, yeah. We can do that too, while we're at it, but that's not— that's not what I meant. Well, I would have told you, right after this, even, but that isn’t what I was trying to say. I am Spider-Punk, but that's— it's not—"

Apparently, his confusion is letting him skip right over the panic of Gwyn somehow knowing his secret identity, but not letting him find the right words to say what he actually wants to. He just keeps babbling.

"Tommy, honey, take a breath. What's this about?"

Fuck it. Who cares whether they're the "right" words?

"I'm gay, Gwyn," he blurts, and everything goes silent, like even the shitty pipes are too scared to break the tension with their usual clanging.

"What?"

"I'm gay," he says again, and it comes out easier, even if it hurts more. "I'm queer. A fairy. A fucking faggot, if you prefer." He spits the words like a curse. It definitely feels like one.

Why me? Isn't my life hard enough!?

His eyes are burning and Gwyn is still just staring at him. She doesn't look disgusted, but maybe she’s just in shock, processing this huge bombshell.

"Say something," he rasps, "please?"

She doesn't respond, not with words, anyway. Instead, she surges forward, wrapping her arms around him and tucking her face into the crook of his neck. It takes him painfully long to reciprocate, movements halting and awkward with surprise. This has to be a good sign. Right?

They stay like that for a long moment, with only the sound of shaky breathing and the background hum of the heater to fill the silence. Eventually, though, Gwyn is the first to pull away. She doesn’t go far, just enough so they're face to face. Her eyes are just as damp as his own.

"Me too," she confesses.

"What?"

"I'm gay. More of a dyke than a fairy, actually. Men? Not really my thing."

Oh.

Tommy doesn't know how to respond to that, other than to pull her back into a hug, burying his own face in her shoulder. It's probably for the best, because he starts to bawl like a baby, choking on the overwhelming mix of emotions that crashes over him. It's almost too much to parse and he feels like he's drowning, pulled under a riptide of relief-joy-trust. 

He's mourning a bit, too. Grieving for the normal life he could have had— that they could have had. It’s one thing to admit such things to himself, but admitting it to another person— to Gwyn— makes it all the more real. 

And it hurts. Each strangled sob is soothing agony— like the gangrenous decay of fear-shame-isolation being cut from healthy flesh. He hadn’t realized he was suffocating until he could finally breathe again.

He can’t stop crying and Gwyn's not doing much better, if the wetness of Tommy's collar or her shaking shoulders are anything to go by. She’s clutching onto him like a lifeline and Tommy? Tommy is independent. He stands on his own because he’s never had a choice, so it’s… terrifying to rely on others for support, but he’s holding onto her just as fiercely. Sharing the burden instead of stumbling under the weight of everything. It’s indescribable.

Tommy doesn't think he's ever connected with anyone the way he does with Gwyn.

[bots-and-cons]

Howdy! I have a request for Arcee, Ratchet and Bulkhead having a human friend who's got a rope burn scars on their neck from their previous attempts? Maybe they wore baggier clothes or trying to make them less visible with make-up but one time they forgot to cover them

Thank you for your amazing works and if this makes you uncomfortable in any way feel free to ignore! :)

No worries, doesn't make me uncomfortable, but TW for mentions of suicide attempt by hanging. Thank you for liking my work, I wish you well

~Bulkhead~

•Bulk felt like something was up with you, but he couldn’t put his finger on it

•You seemed different than usual, but he had no idea why

•He noticed you constantly touching your neck, and one day he noticed you had some marks on there

•He asked about it, and you quickly pulled your hood up in hopes that no one else noticed

•You asked Bulk to come with you, so you could talk to him, because you wanted to try and come up with an excuse

•He asked what those marks were, because cybertronians can’t be hung, so he couldn’t possibly have thought of that and he had never seen marks like that before

•You can’t really come up with an explanation that wouldn’t sounds worse or just as bad

•So you told him what had happened, and what you’d tried to do

•Bulk was quiet for a while before just asking how you were feeling now

•You told him you didn’t really know, but at least you didn’t feel like hurting yourself at that moment

•He’s also interested in how he didn’t notice it earlier, because he feels like he really should have

•You tell him you covered it up with makeup and picked your shirt so it would cover up your neck at least a bit

•Bulk doesn’t really know how to react, or what to do, but he let you know you were important to him and that you matter to many people

•Also if you need to talk, he’s always there to listen

~Arcee~

•Arcee noticed you were talking a bit weirdly for a few days, like you had a sore throat or something

•And then she noticed the marks on your neck and had a very distressing thought

•She pulled you aside and asked you about her suspicions

•You tried to come up with a reasonable excuse, but pretty much everything just sounded bad

•So you were tearing up when you told her you had tried to kill yourself

•Arcee didn’t say anything, she just looked at you for a while before hugging you tightly

•She seemed very distraught about what you told her, maybe even more than you in that moment

•For you, feeling suicidal had been such an everyday for a long time now and you weren’t really expecting someone to feel so bad about it for you

•You’re trying not to cry as Arcee is still hugging you and when she pulls back she keeps her hands on your shoulders

•Arcee is looking at you in the eyes, but she doesn’t really know how to express how worried she is about you so it just sort of ends up with her staring at you for a while

•She finally just tells you she’s there for you and that she’ll help you with whatever you need

~Ratchet~

•Ratchet doesn’t often notice things like these, because he has just kind of figured humans get bruised quite easily

•Of course he couldn’t really come up with a reasonable and not bad answer to what might have caused such marks

•So he just kept an eye on you for a few days, before asking about it, and the marks seemed to have gone away by the next time he saw you

•He of course doesn’t realize that it’s only because you remembered to put on makeup that time

•So when he does ask you about it, his first thought is that someone hurt you, which makes him very worried and angry

•He has to pry a bit, because you don’t admit that someone hurt you, so you just tell him the truth in a moment of anger at his poking of the subject

•You realize what you said and you’re both just frozen in place as Ratchet processes the information you’ve just given him

•You try to laugh it off, acting like you just made a bad joke or said it in anger and it’s not true, but Ratchet knows better

•He knows you’re lying and that you’re no well

•You lean your back against the wall and just slide to a sitting position on the floor, pulling your knees to your chest

•Ratchet sits down on the floor as well, resting his hand on his knee

•You just sit there for a while in silence, but eventually he asks if you need help

•You answer “probably, but I don’t want it”

•He sighs, and tells you that you should at least let him help you

•You agree, mostly so he will stop asking about it, but partly because somewhere deep inside you do know you need help

•Ratchet makes a point to ask you about how you’re doing everyday, and when it’s just you and him, he asks if you’ve been feeling self-destructive

•He really just wants to help, and he is genuinely very worried

[demonslayedher]

How would the rest of the story play out if Mitsuri was actually filling in for Kyojurou during the Infinity Train arc?

In reference to this joke of a post, most excellently transformed into art here (thank you, it's amazing and I still love it)!

Of course, it was only meant to be a joke because it fixes only one problem of that night; that Akaza won't stay and fight if it means crossing hands with a girl. It leaps with Love Breath flamboyance over the whole issue of the train crashing after having turned into a demon and the whole getting crushed inside one's dreams thing. Mitsuri might have the love-for-all-people power to save over 200 passengers and deal major internal damage to Enmu, albeit with potentially less clear instructions to her juniors and needing a moment to calm and realize there's got to be a head somewhere to cut off. However, if you let Mitsuri accomplish her dreams inside her dreams, I hate to say it, but everyone might be done for. She fights with her gut and her guts loves and trusts people. Even if she has an inkling that something is off, she's got a history of denying herself her own feelings and the "oh, danger!" push might come too late.

But this is a Fix-It AU, we're fixing it with Nezuko befriending Mitsuri before the tickets get punched (despite the stares of other passengers), and when Nezuko's playmates fell asleep, she didn't like the menacing looks of the people coming in with ropes, so she burned the ropes (and inadvertently, the tickets) and starting trying to wake up Tanjiro and Mitsuri right away. That probably makes Enmu confused as hell about whats going on, so maybe he and Nezuko duke it out a bit before the others finally wake up, and he hasn't made much progress on oneness with the train, so Mitsuri offs him before he ever got to do much.

Maybe Akaza shows up. Maybe he leaves before they notice him. Maybe he shows up while Enmu is in peril and he gives the train a punch to tell Enmu to shape up in there and not embarrass Muzan, resulting in Mitsuri saving 200 passengers anyway.

Since Mitsuri witnesses Nezuko fight and protect the passengers, she sings Nezuko's praises far and wide, contributing to the others accepting her better (however begrudingly), especially Rengoku, whom she reintroduces Tanjiro to, so he can inquire about Hinokami Kagura. Tanjiro becomes Rengoku's Tsuguko. This AU continues to fix everything! Senjuro still has a bit of a toothache, though, sacrifices had to be made. At some point Tanjiro will headbutt Shinjuro anyway and Rengoku stepping in to defend his Tsuguko leads to a change of heart and positive character development for Shinjuro after all. Senjuro's really gonna need that tooth pulled with how well this is going.

Mitsuri stops by the Butterfly Mansion more to visit Nezuko, so this means more on-screen interactions between Mitsuri and Shinobu. Did I say 'more'? I meant 'finally some.'

Not having had the extreme failure to drive them, maybe the Kamaboko boys wouldn't had worked as hard on training the four months before... nah, Rengoku training them all, they'll be fine in Yoshiwara. They still generally reside at the Butterfly Mansion because Shinobu accepted official responsibility for Tanjiro and Nezuko.

Iguro hates how much Mitsuri talks about the Kamados. Tanjiro gets death threats from both Haganezuka and a mystery hater with nice handwriting.

Fighting Hantengu goes smoother because Tanjiro and Mitsuri are already familiar enough with each other that they fight well together. And since he's alive and well, Rengoku is there too! Maybe even fighting alongside Muichiro and being the first to warmly congratulate him on having his memories back. Oh my heart, I want this. Also, after meeting Genya, Rengoku keeps making conversation about him to Sanemi, who can't manage to pull the "I have no brother" line when Rengoku is so aware of the truth. This leads to some kind of socially award situation in which the Shinazugawa brothers have to get along.

And... and 'cause this is a fix-it AU Akaza is no match for Rengoku and Giyuu combined, and... and somehow or another Rengoku saves 200 Demon Slayers in the Mugen-jo. Is that too much to ask of this AU?? Argh... probably. This is where I leave the rest up to your imaginations. Keep pulling Senjuro's teeth if you must.

[hmshermitcraft]

!For theme with some friends to lovers thrown in!

Now there were a few things currently coursing through mumbo’s mind at the moment but currently there’s only two things occupying it. One he’s finally moved out of his tiny very cramped apartment which is a relief on his body sometimes being 12ff tall isn’t a fun thing so hurray for new home! But number two is he’s now rooming with the hottest blaze hybrid in the known worlds Gemini Tay Grim aka the best alchemist on the planet with a crown of molten metal horns, flaming hair that puts the sun to shame, and a sense of fashion Mumbo still is trying to understand. Like how do you have a flaming dress and not burn?!

Well that’s a lie there are three things on his mind and the biggest one is the currently softly snoring Gem on a pile of books like it was a bed drooling a little in cottagecore pajamas…safe to say he’s now having to reboot his brain. Now Gem was in need of a new roommate after Cleo moved out because they had managed to snag their dream job and she couldn’t be happier for her best friend! But now she needed a new roommate sure she had enough money to cover the costs of her giant ominous fire tower being one of the best alchemists in history has its perks!

But it gets lonely as hell she’s only one hot blaze! So she posted an offer online for roommates and managed to snag one quickly when the person said they just need a literal bigger space than their current apartment. Seriously how did this guy not snap his neck in such a small place? And she fell into her bad habit of staying up all night reading again in her very comfy bee pajamas and woke up to see her new roommate standing there bewildered at the sight before him…welp! So much for first impressions.

And after some explaining of why Gem doesn’t look like she’s ready to incinerate Mumbo for seeing what he saw she quickly explained that was just a public persona. And while the moving in process took less time then either expected it quickly became apparent the two were crushing on each other hard when Mumbo attended a photo shoot with gem where she had to wear a black dress that made it look illegal with how drop dead gorgeous it made her. They even roped in Mumbo to do a few poses which didn’t help Gem either. And from there it was a boiling pot til both admitted they had a crush on the other. And after the embarrassment died down they happily began dating with gem even teaching mumbo some alchemy to help his redstone. Seriously who knew redstone golems were so cute!

But the two had a lot of explaining to do when Cleo came for a surprise visit to see gem napping on Mumbo’s back while he was fixing the arm of one of his many little redstone golems…yeah that’s definitely going into the top ten most awkward moments folder.

Rando anon

Gem chose Mumbo for how earnestly he answered her questions. Plenty of people applied; only a handful of those were possibilities. So many were just in it to hook up with her or get gossip, and she's not stupid. Mumbo, though... He knew who she was (a few people pretended not to. It was obvious.) Yet, he just seemed genuinely excited about moving into a bigger space. A little intimidated by her - but she'd be more worried if he wasn't.

Cleo did offer to do a full vet of him, up to and including interrogating him on arrival. Gem managed to hold them back and tell them to actually do the job they'd worked so hard for. They still sent her various pieces of information about him until he moved in.

Mumbo, it turns out, is just as earnest as he came across. He spent his first week just marveling at the high ceilings! He's a little awkward, but sharp as anything. His interest in her work seems genuine too, and he shares his own work in return. He's one sharp cookie she tells him, poking his nose.

Inviting him to one of her shoots was a little impulsive, but Mumbo had wanted to know how her clothes worked. What better way than to show him? She didn't mean for him to be pulled into photos, or for her sappy smile at him.

It softened Gem's public image for a while. Until somebody tried harassing Mumbo and Gem almost literally blew up at them. She wasn't even pretending that time.

Mumbo also still insists on paying her for the room. They're literally sharing a bed, and he still insists on paying rent. He's incredible.