#it’s terrifying to be held down and tubed

[all-i-do-is-try1]

It’s crazy how things like forced feeding are considered tourture under international law. But it’s perfectly acceptable to hold down people with an illness and do this to them.

And yes I do realize this can be a life threatening illness, but there’s always other methods that aren’t things that would be considered torture in any other context.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

summary: Wanda edges you, and you take it all like a good girl.

content warnings: whew, there’s a lot. Cunnilingus, fingering, choking, collar and leash play, choking, edging, spreader bar, restraints, overstimulation, vibrator, strap-on, passing out

word count: 4.6k+

masterlist

A/N: This was requested by @mrsromanovaa ! You can find the original request here.

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Soon, Darling

“On the bed, darling. You know how I like you.” 

Wanda’s voice is firm, her accent rolling over each syllable as you attempt to not shiver at the command. Without speaking, you nod once and move your shaky legs towards the massive bed in the center of the room. Approving green eyes watch your movement, even as her face remains unreadable. 

Taking a few calming breaths, you position yourself on top of the soft comforter. You’re thankful for its dark maroon color, sure that you must be dripping as you move onto your back. After all, Wanda hadn’t been subtle with her teasing glances and forward touches throughout your date night. She knew which buttons to press, what words to say, and which times to whisper directly in your ear as you shivered beneath her. 

Even thinking about the evening the two of you had shared brought a pleasant warm buzz to your chest, and you refused to acknowledge what that buzz could mean. Shaking yourself from your rapidly spiraling thoughts, you smiled gently at your girlfriend, pleased at the wink you received in return. Excitement filled you as she moved to kneel on the foot of the bed, her fingers grazing your ankles as her eyes began to glow scarlet. 

Oh yeah, your girlfriend had totally awesome powers. And, she wasn't shy about using them around you. Suck on that, Vision. 

Wanda twisted her fingers, an object slapped into the palm of her hand, and all thoughts of her ex boyfriend left your mind as you realized what she held. The two of you had talked in depth about different things to try in the bedroom, but seeing it in person was slightly terrifying. But, also incredibly arousing at the same thing. 

You refused to think about what that meant for your psyche. 

The spreader bar was placed between your spread ankles, Wanda’s knees just barely touching it as she began to run her hands over your calves, fingers light and teasing. Oh, you were definitely dripping now. 

Evidently, Wanda could either see the evidence right before her eyes, a smile creeping onto her face as you willingly spread your legs further for her, or she could smell it. That was one of her favorite phrases to say, and one that never failed to turn you on even more than you already were. 

“God, you smell divine. Is that all for me?” She’d ask, and you’d somehow find yourself giving her every part of you that you had to offer. Sometimes you wondered how the events of an evening had unfolded, your brain went a little bit too fuzzy sometimes, only remembering how you felt during the experience. Wanda would reassure you, telling you that subspace was normal and nothing to be afraid of, and of course, you believed her. 

“Darling?”

Ah, there you went again. Getting trapped in your own head. It wasn’t your fault that you got lost in a train of thought. Or, maybe it was. Actually, thinking about it, it was totally your fault because it was your own head, right? And-

“Focus, love.” Wanda’s voice cut through your inner monologue, halting your thoughts immediately. In the space of a millisecond, you felt your brain get squeezed through a tube, the bedroom becoming sharper as you seemed to re-enter your own body. Green eyes peered down at you, searching your own as Wanda’s fingers gently stroked your face. 

“Sorry, I,” You didn’t get the chance to speak, Wanda’s finger pressing gently against your lips, understanding in her eyes. 

“It’s alright darling, are you ready to continue?” Her voice was low, reminding you of the heat pooling in your gut. You felt another wave of arousal, and nodded quickly. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” Wanda smiled approvingly, and you were grateful for the single lamp that glowed warmly in the corner of the room. At least she wouldn’t be able to see most of the blush that spread across your cheeks. Then again, judging by her knowing gaze, she definitely knew what her words did to you. 

Moving slowly, as if not to scare you, Wanda moved her hands firmly up and down your calves. It seemed almost as if she was giving you a massage, but when she grasped one ankle firmly while bringing one end of the spreader bar towards it, you knew that you were in for a long night. 

“Too tight?” 

You shook your head, eyes wide as you experimentally flexed your ankle. The strap attached to you didn’t budge, and you could feel the tension of the metal rod as Wanda moved to attach the rest of the spreader bar to your other ankle. She gripped the middle of the metal, giving it an experimental tug. 

Your body jolted, hips moving closer towards your girlfriend as she pulled you closer by the spreader bar. Her smile was nothing short of wicked, and you shivered at the hungry look in her eyes as they roamed your helpless body. At least your hands were free. 

Wanda gave you a look, twisting her fingers once again as your wrists were wrapped in scarlet wisps and pulled tight against the headboard. You sighed, of course she was in your head, the tricky little witch. 

“Behave.” She commanded, and you resisted the temptation to roll your eyes, knowing that would only bring punishment. You really didn’t want that, not after the hours of teasing she’d put you through during dinner. 

“Please, Wanda.”

“That’s not my name.” Her eyes were hot, fixed on your body as you squirmed slightly beneath her watchful gaze. The tension rolling in your gut was becoming overwhelming, and your clit throbbed as you feebly thrusted your hips towards her. 

“Please…” You begged, taking a deep breath, calming your racing heartbeat. 

Raising a single eyebrow, Wanda tilted her head. Your heart jump started, racing once again at the movement. Her hands moved teasingly over your inner thighs, fingers mere centimeters away from your messy pussy.  She was teasing you, the promise of her fingers finally granting you the relief you so desperately needed sending you over the edge of embarrassment.  

“Mommy…” You knew it sounded pathetic, but you couldn’t really control how your voice sounded at the moment. 

Wanda was pleased, a low sounding hum reverberating through her chest as she thought about her next moves. You waited patiently, knowing that this was the moment that she would decide if she was going to tease you for the rest of the night, or give in and pleasure you until you begged her to stop. 

Both options sounded great to you, so you weren’t too worried about the outcome of her decision. 

Deciding to test the strength of the newest restraint, you tried to push your ankles together. Your legs didn’t move an inch, and you realized that you were well and truly fucked if Wanda decided to tease you. There was no escaping, no matter how hard you tried. 

Again, you really didn’t want to think about what that could possibly mean. 

“I think,” Wanda started, and your ears immediately perked up. “I think that I need a blindfold.”

After announcing that very helpful and definitely not-at-all frustrating announcement, Wanda got off the bed, smirking at you as she made her way into your shared walk-in closet. You sighed, throwing your head against the pillows as you tried to control your reaction to her words. You knew exactly which drawer she was rummaging around in, and thinking about the multitude of toys within it made you want to squeeze your thighs together. Anything to reduce the unbearable ache between your legs. 

Oh, wait. You couldn’t. Wanda had made sure of that with a high quality spreader bar. You moved your legs again, realizing the only thing you could do was bring your knees towards your chest. No matter what you tried, you couldn’t get your legs to fully close. 

Giving up, you steadfastly ignored the rush of arousal accompanied by juices flowing from your pussy at the knowledge that your legs were permanently open for your girlfriend. In all honesty, you wouldn’t have it any other way. More arousal leaked down your inner thighs, and you smirked at the thought of what Wanda would say when she found a puddle of your own arousal beneath you. 

“You know,” Wanda’s voice startled you, and your eyes greedily took in her naked form as she made her way towards you. You didn’t imagine the extra sway to her hips, and you licked your lips as she moved to kneel beside you on the bed. 

Cold hands caressed your face briefly before Wanda placed a strip of fabric securely over your eyes, tying the back of it tightly as you raised your head helpfully. She continued speaking, even as you felt her weight shifting around on the mattress. 

“I’ve been thinking,” She moved towards your ankles, settling herself between your legs. Her hands gripped the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, kneading the muscles. “I want to use my mouth tonight, my tongue feels restless.”

You groaned, the sound coming out as more of a moan as Wanda chuckled somewhere near your drenched pussy. The last time she’d used her mouth, you almost passed out from the sheer amount of pleasure she had brought you, your clit over sensitive for the rest of the evening. 

Before you could properly prepare yourself, her tongue was pressed against you. She moaned, the vibrations hitting you perfectly as you tried not to roll your hips. 

Wanda liked it when you were still, or at least attempting to be still. She’d spent weeks training you, edging you for each movement you made while she slowly traced your clit with a single finger. You knew better than to move your hips while she was pleasuring you. 

But holy fuck did it feel good. 

It was almost enough for you to forget yourself, and forget all the training that Wanda had drilled into you. But you refrained, wanting to be as good as possible for her. After all, bad girls didn’t get to cum. 

You wanted to cum. Very, very badly. 

Wanda began flicking her tongue against your clit, the deep ache within you rising like a wildfire. The flames of your orgasm licked at your skin, and you let out a long moan that was supposed to be a plea. You felt her chuckle against you, her fingers digging into your hips as she buried her face deeper against your swollen pussy. 

Certain that you would find bruises all over your hips the next morning, you experimentally shifted your weight. The steady pressure of Wanda’s tongue against your protruding clit stopped, and you choked down the complaint that threatened to escape you. 

“Why did you move, sweetheart?” Wanda’s eyes gazed imploringly at you, but you wouldn’t fall for it. Her tone was sugary sweet, but you sensed a trap. “Didn’t mommy teach you better?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” You winced at how breathy you sounded. It was pathetic, but Wanda’s fingers relaxed slightly from their tight grip on your hips, so you continued. “I forgot myself, you just make me feel too good, mommy. You’re very talented with your tongue, please do it some more.”

You felt like it was a bit overboard, but Wanda seemed satisfied and you were willing to do almost anything to cum. Strong fingers twitched against you, and you stiffened as you realized that Wanda was still in your thoughts. 

‘Emphasis on the word almost.’

A small smirk worked its way onto Wanda’s face, even though you couldn’t see it, but you felt it against you as she began sloppily making out with your glistening pussy. Her tongue slipped roughly against your clit as your juices coated her chin. You were like a drug to her, your taste both invigorating and addicting at the same time. 

Wanda couldn’t get enough. She could stay between your thighs for hours, reading your body language with each new stroke of her tongue, the sounds of your sighs and whispered moans wrapping around her head and pulling her headfirst into the very essence of you. 

It took everything in her to pull away from you, the tell-tale signs of your impending orgasm too overwhelming to ignore. Besides, she wanted to play with you for a little while. Also, you were adorable when you panted and tried not to squirm, chasing the last few droplets of pleasure she could draw from you before pulling fully away. 

“Mommy, please…” Your voice was whiny, and it only took a millisecond before you realized your mistake. 

“Good girls don’t complain,” Wanda summoned something, a piece of fabric that you couldn’t quite make out. Her eyes bore into yours as she continued, “Mommy doesn’t want to hear that, and you know better. Haven’t I been good to you? Aren’t I making you feel good? Soon, darling.”

Before you could say anything, the fabric she was holding was stuffed into your open mouth. Letting out a soft grunt as you readjusted your jaw, you stifled a moan as the taste of Wanda’s arousal hit your tongue. 

Pulling off the beautiful form fitting dress she wore, Wanda smirked as you realized what piece of clothing she’d summoned. She felt a wave of possessiveness enter your mind as you eagerly sucked on her ruined panties, your thoughts swirling at the knowledge that you had made her this wet. 

Pulling your ankles up, Wanda slipped between the spreader bar and your body, letting the backs of your thighs rest atop her own as she kneeled before you. Her hand drifted, teasing fingers tracing your hip bone as she admired the glistening heat between your legs. 

Letting her gaze travel over your body, she admired every inch of your skin as she made her way towards your face. Wanda knew that she would never get tired of looking at you, her eyes eagerly taking in every curve and contour of your body, mapping out different paths as you flushed beneath her. 

Green eyes finally met yours, and you saw her smile. Her fingers brushed over your mound, grazing your clit and collecting some of the wetness pooling between your thighs. A single finger traced your slit, teasing you as she chuckled. 

“Did you want something?” 

You let out a huff of air through your nose, tilting your head as you stared at her. Taking a chance, you let your hips move slightly. It was just enough to wordlessly plead with her, begging her to soothe the ache between your legs. 

A single finger entered you in one thrust, burying itself knuckle deep in your pussy, and you nearly sobbed in relief. You let out a long moan, letting Wanda know just how pleased you were, and missed the smirk that flashed across her face. Your eyes were closed, head thrown back as she began to move at a steady pace, curling her finger every so often and grazing that spot inside you that sent bolts of pleasure coursing through you. 

It was just enough, the perfect pace to sate the hunger that had been slowly building within you. 

The thrusts increased, Wanda adding a second finger as she watched your face contort around the makeshift gag. The pleasure changed, becoming overwhelming as your orgasm attempted to rise. You knew by now that Wanda wasn’t going to let you cum just yet, and despaired at the thought of being brought to the edge again. 

“Mnnfh, plmh mmhmm.” Your attempt at words turned into a groan, and Wanda let out a low hum. Her other hand reached up, wrapping around your throat loosely as she curled her fingers inside of you. 

“Soon, darling.”

The pleasure just kept building, your clit throbbing as it begged for attention. If she would just touch it, anything would help you fall over the edge. It took everything in you to not roll your hips, any attempt at repositioning so Wanda’s hand would go where you wanted would be met with a complete absence of touch. 

Pleased at your self restraint, Wanda gave a few more deep thrusts before removing her fingers completely. Before you could whine, or even process her movement, she tore her panties from your parted lips, shoving her fingers onto your waiting tongue as she bent down. 

The taste of your own arousal hit you, mixing pleasantly with the aftertaste of Wanda’s juices. Then, you felt a tongue licking gently at your aching pussy, collecting as much of your arousal as it could. You felt her tease your clit, circling it softly, and lamented at the lack of pressure. 

Wanda worked you up again, her fingers slowly moving in and out of your mouth as your tongue swirled around them. It was an effective gag, small moans escaping you as her tongue steadily applied more pressure. Your orgasm reappeared, and you desperately wished that you could close your legs around Wanda’s head. Anything to keep her where you needed her most. 

Almost as if she was reading your mind (oh, wait), Wanda pulled away. Pleasure coursed through you, fading quickly as the stimulation ended, and you let out a whimper. 

“Color?” Wanda asked, her voice soft as her fingers twisted again. A vibrator floated into her grasp, your eyes tracking it as you uttered a muffled ‘green’. You recognized that toy, it was one of Wanda’s favorites. The settings were adjustable using a knob, so she could set it at any intensity she wanted. 

“Do you want to cum?” Wanda asked, pulling her fingers from you briefly to let you respond. You opened your mouth, the pleas about to spill out, when the vibrator was placed directly against your clit. 

Jolting, you breathed heavily, and Wanda just raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t even turned the toy on yet, but just the smallest amount of pressure against your throbbing clit was sending you headfirst into subspace. 

“Yes, please.” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded, the only thing in your fuzzy mind was the thought of finally falling over that edge. The one she’d kept you on for hours. The one that would rack your body with pleasure, the edge that only your girlfriend could help you fall over. 

The vibrator clicked on, and you felt your legs start to shake. Wanda’s hand held the toy firmly against your clit, her other gently rolling your nipple between her fingers. You recognized the setting as relatively low, but it still sent pleasure shooting through what seemed like every nerve in your body. 

“Would you like to try something, darling?” Wanda asked, and you struggled to try and respond. She continued, “We talked about it earlier this week, remember the package we ordered?”

Your eyes lit up in recognition, a feeble nod the only thing you could manage. You remembered the soft red collar and leash that you both had liked, but hadn’t expected it to arrive so soon. 

“Call it an early Christmas gift.” Wanda’s voice was soft, full of caring as she watched your reaction. 

“I want to try it,” You said, your voice as strong as you could make it. Wanda’s eyes lit up, crinkling at the edges as she smiled widely at you. Evidently, she thought that the perfect response was cranking up the vibrations against your clit. 

You shuddered beneath her, hands grasping uselessly at the magical restraints as the pleasure became overwhelming. You were mere seconds away from your orgasm, you could feel the beginning stages of it creeping up on you as your muscles went rigid. 

Wanda pulled away, and your clit protested by pulsing rapidly. She paid you no mind, letting you thrust your hips feebly as she summoned a few more items. They all moved to rest neatly on the bed, and Wanda held up the red collar. 

Her touch was almost reverent, stroking the soft leather and ensuring that it wouldn’t bite into your sensitive skin. Your eyes locked on it, watching as she brought it closer to your neck. Nodding your consent, you felt your heart race wildly as she fastened it securely. 

Two fingers curled around the leather, sticking themselves between the collar and your skin to ensure it wasn’t too tight. Tugging experimentally, Wanda’s eyes snapped to yours when you let out a moan. 

“That felt really good.” You breathed out, pupils blown as Wanda gave it another tug. This one was more forceful, and you felt your clit throb as more of your arousal leaked onto the mattress. 

The smile on Wanda’s face should have scared you, it was dark and wide. Ideas and fantasies swirled behind her green irises, but the only thing you felt was excitement. And extreme arousal, but what’s new?

Metal clinked, and you watched in anticipation as Wanda clipped the leash to the gold loop attached to the front of the collar. She wrapped the leash around her hand, once and then twice. 

“Fuck.” You almost didn’t realize that you had spoken, the word slipping out as Wanda gave the harshest tug yet. 

A scene of Wanda tugging the leash while fucking you from behind flashed behind your eyelids as you took some steadying breaths. You longed to feel the collar pressing against your throat, whenever Wanda would use her hand to choke you, it always made your orgasm much more powerful. It really heightened all of the sensations you felt, and you couldn’t wait to use the collar more often.  

“Would you like to try that, darling?” Wanda’s voice filtered through your thoughts, and you flushed as you remembered her presence in your mind. 

“Yes, please.” You sounded eager, your eyes bright as Wanda chuckled and twisted her fingers once again. 

After some maneuvering, you were on your front. Your hands were still securely attached to the headboard by unrelenting wisps of scarlet magic. Wanda urged you to your knees, the spreader bar making it impossible to close your legs. 

Something pressed against you from behind, and you immediately remembered the strap-on that Wanda had brought over. Either she had already lubed up, or you were soaked, because she slid the entire length of the toy into you in one stroke. 

A moan escaped you, muffled by the pillow you pressed your face into at the feeling of her strap fully inside you. It was everything you’d been waiting for, your walls clinging to the toy as she began snapping her hips. Fucking into you, Wanda experimentally tugged on the leash, and your head rose unwillingly from the pillow. 

“Oh,” She said, her voice raspy as she tugged again. A strangled whimper sounded out, a gush of wetness hitting her thighs as she easily slid in and out of your slick pussy. “I like this collar on you very much.”

“This was a great idea,” You agreed, all your senses heightened as she choked you from behind. 

With white knuckles, Wanda pulled on the leash as hard as she dared, not wanting to go too far during your first time using the collar. Using it as leverage, she angled her hips, thrusting deeper inside you, the toy hitting your g-spot perfectly. 

Your orgasm builds once more, pleasure spreading from your over-used pussy to the rest of your trembling body. Words left your mouth, but you couldn’t quite make out what you were saying. It was most likely broken pleas and moans, a desperate attempt at convincing Wanda to let you cum. 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to cum without her permission, or even without her helping fall over the edge. Sure, you’d tried masturbating, even though it was explicitly against her rules. However, you weren’t able to make yourself cum, not after your body had gotten used to Wanda’s touch. 

“Please, mommy. Please let me cum. I’ve… fuck. I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I? I really want to cum, I can’t take it anymore. Please, no more edging.” Your voice gave out quickly, moans replacing your words as Wanda seemed to fuck you harder. 

“Fuck,” Wanda grunted, tugging the leash again. “You have been good for me, darling. And because you begged so prettily for me, I’ll let you cum.”

Her next words were muttered right in your ear. “You can cum as many times as you want.” She placed a harsh kiss against your neck, most definitely leaving a bruise that would last for days. Then, she kneeled up straight, her hips snapping steadily as the strap forced every drop of pleasure out from your aching pussy. 

“Cum.”

Almost as if your body had been waiting for that command, your orgasm washed over you. It was unrepentant, waves of pleasure racking your body as you all but collapsed. Wanda’s firm hold on your leash kept you from suffocating yourself in the pillows, the sensation of being choked only heightening your orgasm. Everything felt more vivid, Wanda’s fingernails digging into your hip, her strap slamming into your gushing pussy, your nipples dragging along the silky fabric beneath you with each thrust. 

Wanda’s hold on the leash slackened, and you sucked in deep breaths as blood rushed to your head. Your orgasm kept dragging on, the constant stimulation from the strap-on triggering a second one. 

The hum of a vibrator sounded out, and you half whimpered and half moaned. Your clit throbbed, and you wanted to scream. Wanda placed the vibrator against it, the sensitive nub having emerged from its hood a long time ago. 

White stars filled your vision, your limbs turning to jelly as a third, powerful orgasm ripped through you. The waves of pleasure quickly turned painful, Wanda’s hips not slowing for a second as she twisted the knob higher on the vibrator. 

You came again. 

And again. 

Pain and pleasure melded together. The only thing you could sense was Wanda’s presence, everything else fading as she forced your body to cum again. Her hand tugging your leash, her collar wrapped tightly around your neck. Her skin, slapping against yours as she forced the strap deeper. 

Her voice, sounding out. Her words, not registering as you came again. Her hand, twisting your face towards her as your vision started to darken. Her eyebrows, threaded together. 

Her eyes, that lovely shade of green, forever ingrained in your mind. 

And then, nothing.

—-

“Darling, I need you to wake up. Please.” 

A cool hand was stroking your cheek, shaking as it wiped away tears that you hadn’t realized you’d shed. Warm breath hit your lips as Wanda sighed in relief, your eyes fluttering open. 

Everything was blurry, but your lips still turned upwards. Smiling goofily up at Wanda, you attempted to move. Your limbs felt like lead, your muscles sore as you twisted a strand of her auburn hair between your fingers. 

“I was so worried,” Wanda began, but you shushed her. 

“Don’t,” Your voice was hoarse, and you cleared your throat. “I enjoyed every second of that, Wanda. I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

Wanda’s voice wobbled, her eyes concerned as she moved to lay down next to you. You threw your leg over her hip somewhat clumsily, still feeling as though your limbs were deadweight. Tucking your face into the crook of her neck, you inhaled deeply, letting her vanilla scent wash over you. 

“I’m absolutely positive,” You reassured her, already feeling your eyes closing again. “Now let’s just cuddle for a bit, and then you can order us food while I get the shower ready in, um, about an hour.”

And with that, you promptly fell asleep. 

Wanda smiled, stroking your hair as you curled around her. Honestly, how did she get so lucky? She thought about the ring sitting hidden in her office desk drawer, and felt a wave of love overtake her as you pulled her closer in your sleep. 

She just had to wait until after the holidays. Soon, you would be her wife. Wanda couldn’t wait for that day to come. 

Soon.

—-

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine 

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |3|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Talks of injuries

Word Count: 3.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

“Run away with me?” you asked, staring into Tara’s eyes as she leaned in for a kiss.

“No,” Tara giggled, playfully shoving you.

“Why not?” you sighed, flopping back onto Tara’s bed.

“Cause I don’t want to be a high school drop out?” Tara draped herself over you, looking down at you with a loving smile.

“Ugh, fine, I guess that’s reasonable,” you grumbled, pouting up at her as you ran a hand through her hair.

Tara sucked in a breath, instantly wincing in pain, her hand went to her stomach, but she quickly pulled it away when the pain worsened. She tried to push herself up but quickly lowered herself back down when every movement sent waves of pain through her entire body. She blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the unfamiliar lighting. She looked around seeing blank white walls, a thin white sheet over her, and a hospital bed. She scrunched her eyebrows, trying to remember what happened, she reached up feeling an oxygen tube around her nose.

She got flashes of bleeding out on the floor, a knife through her hand. She looked down to see her left hand bandaged up. She closed her eyes, feeling her leg snap, she winced at just the memory. When she opened her eyes again, she noticed the large black boot on her right leg. Then she saw it, the white mask, black cloak, she remembered getting the call, it had been Ghostface. Her heart rate picked up again, she ignored the pain as she pushed herself further up on the pillow. She whipped her head around, her eyes darting all over the room, only stopping when they landed on your sleeping figure.

She couldn’t help but give a small smile at you. Tears pricked the edge of her eyes as the attack fully came back to her. The only comfort she had was seeing you by her side, safe and sound. Part of her felt bad but the other part of her wanted to laugh at your position. You were curled up, one leg hanging off the chair, the other draped over the armrest, and the top half of your body curled in, so your head was resting on the back of the chair.

She relaxed back into the pillow, her heartbeat slowing back down. She never took her eyes off you though. Her mind went back to the dream she woke up from. It was a memory, it was the last time you spent the night, just two days ago. You always asked Tara to run away with you, ever since she turned eighteen. The two of you had plans to leave when Tara graduated but then she got held back a year, delaying your plans a year. She knew you didn’t mind, truly, but you still always asked to run away. Tara loved it, she loved knowing you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her. Tara just didn’t want to be a dropout before she ran away with you.

Tara laid her head on her pillow, just staring at you, you always looked so peaceful sleeping, even in a very uncomfortable position. You suddenly shot up, bracing yourself in the chair so you didn’t fall off. Your eyes instantly went to Tara, your eyes filled with tears as you let out a shaky breath. Tara could only describe the look on your face as one of relief, she had no idea how long she had been out and couldn’t begin to imagine what you had been going through this whole time. If you had been attacked and Tara was the one waiting by your bedside she surely would have been going out of her mind.

“You’re okay,” you sobbed. You were instantly out of the chair and at Tara’s side. You reached up to touch her but hesitated, your hand freezing just as you were about to graze her hair.

Tara gave a small nod, realizing you were terrified of hurting her. “It’s okay,” she rasped out.

Your hand gently caressed her cheek. You leaned in, resting your forehead against hers. Your eyes were pinched shut but tears still managed to spill out of them. Tara let out a shaky breath, trying to contain her own sobs, she reached up with her good hand, resting it on the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered in between sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Tara tightened her grip on you, quietly shushing you. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” She wanted to offer you any comfort she could give, she was making sure you felt her, that you heard her, that you knew she was there, and she was okay.

When you finally pulled away from her you quickly wiped your eyes, sniffling a little. You cleared your throat as you walked across the room, Tara’s heartbeat spiked for a second until she realized you were just going to the sink. Her eyes never left you as you filled a glass with water and instantly went back to her side, you handed her the glass of water and then dragged the chair you had been sleeping in next to her bedside. She took a few sips, the water instantly soothing her dry throat.

Tara looked down at your hand resting on her bed, she could feel your fingers barely grazing her leg through the blanket. She started to move her hand to hold your hand but stopped when she realized her hand was bandaged. She furrowed her brow, opening her mouth to ask you to move to her other side but the words died on her lips when she looked up, seeing your eyes not on her in the moment but on the door. She quickly shut her mouth, she couldn’t help but smile at your determined look, as if you were daring someone to walk through that door.

When you took your eyes off the door and looked back at her, she was still staring at you. You tilted your head, giving her the same soft look you always gave her, it was a complete 180 from the glare you had been giving the door. “What?” you asked softly.

Tara shook her head, blinking away the tears that had started to form. “I love you,” is all she said.

You smiled, for the first time since Tara woke up, you looked like you did any other day. If she didn’t know better, she would say you and her were just sitting on her couch about to watch a movie. “I love you too,” you reached up, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. “Do you want me to text your friends?”

Tara opened her mouth ready to say yes but stopped. She couldn’t explain why she stopped. She loved her friends; she had known all of them pretty much her entire life. She couldn’t imagine any of them hurting her, couldn’t imagine that any of them would dress up like a psycho and attack her. There was a part of her that told her not to trust anyone though. Tara might not have remembered Stab too well, but she knew the story of the original Ghostface killings, Sidney’s boyfriend had been the killer, she had trusted him, and he ended up being the one to attack her and kill her friends. The truth was, anyone could be a killer.

The only person she didn’t doubt for a second was you. Maybe it was stupid and naïve but there wasn’t a doubt in her mind about you, she knew you’d never hurt her. And if anyone ever asked her about it, she’d say that you sitting there by her bedside completely guilt ridden over just not being there was proof enough. She saw you beating yourself up, blaming yourself, and it was all for something you had nothing to do with, for something couldn’t have controlled or prevented. As much as Tara had wanted you to come over that night, she was now glad you had work, she would never have forgiven herself if you had been there and you had gotten hurt trying to protect her.

“Not yet,” Tara finally decided on. “I’ll text them later. I’m not ready for all of them. I just want to sit here with you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. You tucked more strands of her hair that had gotten loose behind her ear. You didn’t even question Tara’s decision to not contact her friends yet, not that she ever thought you’d question her wanting to spend more alone time with you.

“How are you feeling?” you asked.

Tara looked down at herself, her eyes focusing on the large boot on her foot before trailing up to her hand. She lifted her hand off the bed, turning it over, it was covered in a wrap, but Tara could still see the knife sticking through it. “It hurts,” she said but it came out as more of a whimper.

“Do you want me to get the nurse? Maybe they can give you more drugs or up the dosage?” you were already moving to stand up.

“No.” Tara reached across her body with her good hand but didn’t have to strain herself before you noticed and were sitting back down. “I’m okay.” You didn’t look convinced. “Really, I think no matter what, I’m going to feel it at least a little bit.”

“Okay,” you whispered, dropping your eyes to the floor as you stared intensely at your clasped hands in your lap. “I should have been there,” you whispered. If you weren’t seated so close to Tara, she would have missed it.

“No,” she shook her head. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I should have just left work and come to you when you called.”

“You would have gotten fired.”

“But maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” You looked up at her, your eyes filled with tears once again. “I’m always there,” your voice cracked. “I should have been there.”

“Stop it,” Tara said, trying to keep her voice determined but it was hard with the tears she felt filling her eyes again as well. “Stop, please, you’re not allowed to blame yourself. I refuse to let you blame yourself. You didn’t cause this, you had nothing to do with this.” You buried your head in your hands but nodded, nonetheless.

After a little while you had turned on the TV and flipped through channels until Tara finally agreed to a channel that was showing some reruns. Tara wanted her laptop so she could watch whatever she wanted but that would mean asking you to go get it and she didn’t want you to leave. Tara watched you out of the side of her eye as you watched the TV, you had moved the side table over and pushed your chair against the bed. You had your arm propped up on the bed, absentmindedly playing with Tara’s hair. You were at an awkward angle and as much as Tara wanted you to, you couldn’t lay in bed next to her with her injuries, so this was the closest the two of you could get for the moment.

There was a long creak as someone opened the door to the hospital room without knocking. Tara’s eyes widened, she sat up in bed, ignoring the pain that shot through her. You were on your feet in seconds, glaring at the door, ready to attack whoever was entering.

Tara relaxed when she saw sheriff Hicks walk through the door, her eyes glued to her notepad. You were still tense, slowly relaxing as Judy put down her notepad and looked up at the two of you. Her mouth hung open, a greeting at the tip of her tongue, her eyes went from Tara, to you, to the door behind her, and back to Tara.

“I’m sorry!” Judy said sincerely. “I should have knocked. I was so caught up finishing up my notes,” she looked down at her notepad, flipping through pages as she rambled. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” Judy looked back up at Tara. “There is an officer right outside your room,” she pointed back to the door. “No one is getting in here unless they’re authorized.”

“Thank you,” Tara whispered. She flicked a glance at you to see you slowly lowering yourself back into the chair. “Sorry, we’re just a little jumpy after…”

“You don’t need to explain,” Judy said softly, walking up to the side of the bed. She reached down, grabbed Tara’s hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad to see you awake.” Judy gave her a soft smile.

Judy was one of a kind, she was a little embarrassing at times and Tara and Amber certainly loved to pick on Wes in a loving way because of it. Judy was the most loving parent around though, the only other parent that seemed to love her kids as much as Judy loved Wes was Mindy and Chad’s mom. Whenever the kids went over to Judy’s house, even now as teenagers, she always made baked goods before she left for work or as soon as she got back.

Tara knew her sister got into a lot of trouble with Judy, Tara was glad Judy never held Sam’s actions against her though. Judy wasn’t a fan of Tara’s mother either, Tara always tried to hide her home issues, but Judy always seemed to know. There were so many times after Sam left and their mom got drunk or went away on long business trips that Judy insisted Tara spend the night and she always made sure Tara never went hungry, whether it was inviting her over for dinner or dropping by with a casserole or something she insisted she had so much fun making dinner she just had to make a second one. Judy never drew attention to what she was doing, she never pressed Tara to talk about it, the few times she did Tara had shut down completely, after that Judy settled for silently helping anyway she could.

Judy also wasn’t the biggest fan of you. She never directly came out and said anything, she knew deep down she didn’t have any right, but there were little comments here and there when Tara started dating you. Judy would always give a tight-lipped smile and her voice went even higher than usual when you were around or when Tara and yours relationship was brought up. When Tara first told Wes she had kissed you, Judy had overheard and made a comment about you being too old for her. Tara had just rolled her eyes saying you were only two years older, technically closer to three, but Tara wasn’t going to get into that with Judy. Judy had dropped it, but it was always obvious she didn’t approve of your relationship.

“I was wondering if you were up for answering some questions?” Judy asked softly.

“She just woke up,” you snapped. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, trying to catch the psycho that did this?”

You were glaring at Judy, but she just gave you a sympathetic look. “That’s what I’m trying to do,” she said softly. “If you aren’t up for it, I can come back,” Judy looked at Tara.

Tara wanted to tell Judy she was tired and to come back later, she had no desire to relive what happened to her. She didn’t think she’d want to relive it later in the day or the next day either so she might as well just get it over with.

“Can Y/N stay?” Tara asked, looking at you. You smiled softly, resting a hand on her arm as you lightly rubbed it.

“Of course,” Judy answered, glancing at you before pulling up a chair of her own. She was near the hospital bed, her back to the door, the perfect spot to look at Tara as they spoke.

“Can you tell me about your night?” Judy asked, flipping open her notepad to a new page. “What you did, anything and everything, just talk, anything can be important.”

Tara nodded, looking at you before she took a deep breath as best as she could. “I was making dinner and called Y/N. They were at work and their boss yelled at them to hang up,” she started.

“What did you talk about?” your eyes flicked to Judy, but you didn’t say anything, you just kept your hand on Tara’s arm, trying to bring her comfort in anyway.

“I was trying to convince her to blow off work,” Tara admitted, blushing lightly. She glanced at you to see a small smile on your own face, but it was quickly shadowed in sadness and guilt. “We talked about graduation, me going to college, us moving out of this town.” Tara shrugged, “Normal stuff.”

Judy nodded, writing a couple things in her notepad. “And after you got off the phone?”

“I was texting Amber, wanted to see if she wanted to watch some movies.” Tara furrowed her brow, shaking her head. “It wasn’t Amber,” she whispered, staring at a spot at the end of the bed. “The phone started ringing.”

“Your phone?” Judy asked but her voice sounded muffled.

Tara shook her head. “Landline,” she said mindlessly. “It was some guy.” She could swear she heard you suck in a breath, but she didn’t turn to look at you. “Said he knew my mom. Figured he was just a new boyfriend,” she shrugged with an eyeroll. “He asked me my favorite movie; I didn’t think anything of it until he specifically started talking to me about Stab.”

“What about it?”

“He asked me if I remembered the opening and then started telling me about the opening kill scene, a girl home alone who answers an unknown number and starts talking to the killer.” Tears slowly started to fill her eyes. “Just like me,” she whispered.

“We can stop if you want,” Judy’s voice came again, this time accompanied by a soft hand resting on her uninjured arm.

“I texted Amber,” Tara continued, shaking her head. “It wasn’t Amber.” She continued shaking her head, the tears slowly began to fall. “He-he-he started quizzing me on Stab.” Tara’s breathing started to become heavy, she was gasping more, the walls were closing in on her. “He-he-he-” she was gasping, her eyes wide as she couldn’t catch her breath.

“Breath,” your voice cut through. Tara tried to focus on your voice, hearing you softly whispering to her. Tara felt a puff of air enter her and she slowly started to be able to breath again. “There you go,” you whispered. Tara’s eyes found yours only to see you standing up, one hand resting on her shoulder while the other held her inhaler to her mouth.

“Thanks,” she whispered, taking the inhaler from you with her good hand.

You let out a shaky breath and slowly lowered yourself back down into your chair. Tara blinked a few times, taking another hit of her inhaler before she set it down at her side, making sure to keep her fingers around it.

“Why don’t we stop for now,” Judy said as she began to stand up from her chair.

“No,” Tara said, giving Judy a determined look. “No, I can do this.” Judy looked from Tara to you then back to Tara before slowly lowering herself back down. “I got a question wrong, and he said he was going to kill Amber. I ran to the door, intending to help her but he was there,” she continued, jumping back right where she left off.

“That’s how he got in?”

Tara shook her head. “No, I got the door closed and locked it. I made sure the system was armed when I called the police but…” Tara’s eyes went wide, the little robotic voice going back and forth saying armed and disarmed filling her mind.

“What?” you asked softly, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Tara turned to you, focusing on your red rimmed eyes, full of nothing but love and concern for her. “He disarmed the system.”

“What?” your face went white.

“We went back and forth. As soon as I armed the system, he would disarm it. He could have gotten in at any time,” she sobbed. “He just wanted to fuck with me!”

Tara was sobbing uncontrollably but you were sitting at her bedside in a second, wrapping your arms around her, making sure to be mindful of her injuries. Tara didn’t care about her injuries, she buried her head in your neck, throwing both her arms around you and pulled you as tightly as she could against herself.

“Sorry,” Tara mumbled, wiping her eyes once she pulled away from you.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Judy said, standing up from her chair again. She looked over her notepad before flipping it closed and tucking it back in her pocket. “I think we’re good. Thank you.” She gave Tara a pat on the arm before leaving, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Tara reached for her phone, opening her messages but her thumb hovered over Amber’s name. “What’s wrong?” you asked, looking at her with worry.

“Amber’s phone was cloned, I can’t know if I’m texting her when I text her,” Tara answered. She scrolled a little further down, selecting Wes’s name. She shot Wes a quick text saying she was awake. Judy was a professional, but Tara was sure Wes had heard about the attack and was just waiting to hear from her or to question his mom.

Not a second later her phone buzzed, showing Wes had already messaged back. “Wes and the others are on their way,” she said.

You nodded, before scooting your chair up further so you could rest your arm around her head. Tara leaned into you, relaxing as you gently played with her hair. She tried to focus on the TV again as she waited for her friends to arrive. Her mind was plagued by who she could trust, why she was targeted, which of her friends potentially did this to her. Whoever did this knew her alarm system, they were either very skilled with technology and could hack into her system or this was someone she trusted.

[deadsetobsessions]

This is based off of that one tiktok from @sorruna where it’s the audio from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse.

——

Dick Grayson was a sneaky, intelligent little shit.

He was also dumb. These things are not mutually exclusive.

To this day, one of his best kept secrets- one of the many, many that he had now- was something he’d take to his grave.

Or to Jason’s grave, at least.

Dick sat down and began telling the story to ears that would never truly hear it.

——

Batman���s voice rumbled behind him as Dick, in his Robin suit, stood blankly on top of a roof.

“I know you snuck out last night, Robin.”

Dick froze, train of thought about his dinner derailed. Holy busted, Batman! Quick! Play dumb!

“Who’s Robin?” He asked, the years of performing in front of a large crowd coming to save his ass.

Not that dumb!

Batman sent him a dry look, reprimand already poised on his lips. Dick, however, was nothing but a good performer. Nay, a dedicated performer.

Quick! Do something out of character! He shouted at himself, panicking visibly. He stepped backwards, an idea appearing in his head. In his defense, it sounded like an amazing idea at the time. He had no idea it would blow up into a Justice League issue. If he had known… Dick would have lied better, probably. There was no way he was going to let B bench him for weeks!

“Who the fuck are you?!” He yelped. Dick apologized mentally to Alfred and his parents. Batman paused, stunned.

“That’s my question. Who are you?!” Bruce asked, immediately hostile. His son doesn’t curse. Well, not in any normal way anyways. Dick quickly backpedaled by yelling at him with a heavy Vlax dialect, missing his parents terribly as he screamed stranger danger in rudimentary Romany. After this, he was going to have to convince Bruce to get him a language tutor. He refused to forget one of the only ties he had left to his parents.

“Wait, wait- you’re my son.” Bruce replied back, in perfect Romany. He looked more convinced but still skeptical.

“My dad is a circus performer! Not a flying rat!” Dick screeched back. He couldn’t help but feel touched about Bruce seeing him like a son.

“Oy! Keep it down out there, you assholes! Some of us like our sleep, damn!” A random Gothamite screamed out of their window.

“Yo, shut the fuck up! The vigilantes are helping to keep the rent low, motherfucker!” Another Gothamite shouted back.

….

Needless to say, Bruce quickly brought Dick back to the cave- with precautions to make sure he didn’t figure out where the Cave was if Dick was actually someone else.

——

“You would have loved it, Little Wing. B was running around like a headless chicken. The memory loss protocol was actually made because of me, you know.” Dick chuckled, sniffling as he talked to the carved gravestone.

It did not reply.

——

The blood tests came back. Yeppers, Dick sarcastically thought, who woulda thought I’m me?

Reinforcements were called in.

Meaning, Batgirl.

“Watch him while I contact Justice League Dark.”

“You think it’s magic?” Barbara asked.

“Yes. There was no one else near our vicinity that could affect Dick like this. He has no head wounds.”

“Eesh. Okay, go. I’ll watch him.”

Bruce disappeared in his zeta tube, looking harried. So, to everyone that’s not a Bat, he looked absolutely terrifying.

“What did you get yourself into now, Boy Wonder?” Barbara sighed. Dick was careful to keep any signs of recognition out of his face.

“Stop calling me that! Where are my parents?!” He asked back. Barbara coughed and looked uncomfortably away.

That’s right, Babs. I’m pulling out the orphan card. Feel bad. Dick hid his feral grin.

“They’re… uh, busy.” Busy being dead, Barbara thought, immediately wincing at her own thoughts. Apparently, Dick thought the excuse was lame too, and he sent her an incredulous look.

“Would you like refreshments, Master Dick?”

“What?”

Alfred held out some cookies on a platter, giving Babs a quelling look as she tried to reach for his share.

“Oh, wow, these are really good!” Dick said as he shoveled cookies into his mouth. He tried to replicate the reaction he had when he tried these for the first time, and from Alfred’s satisfied look, Dick nailed it.

——

“Robin doesn’t remember who he is.” Batman rumbled as he all but dragged Zatanna and Constantine by the scuff of their jackets towards the zeta tubes.

“Hey, wait-”

“We have no time.” Batman snarled, tossing the two magic users into the zeta. He punched in the destination.

When they got there, he glared at the two magic users until they got into the cave.

“Damn, Bats. Really living up to your name, huh?”

“Not bad,” Zatanna said as she looked around.

“Robin,” Batman- Bruce- reminded them. He did a quick glance over to check on his kids, and found them satisfactorily uninjured. Though, Barbara was looking worse for wear. Bruce quickly found out why as she stalked to him.

“You deal with him.” She muttered. “I’m going home.”

Bruce blinked and nodded. “Get home safe.”

Zatanna and Constantine followed Batman as he walked towards Robin. It was odd to see the normally laughing child frown.

“It’s you! The kidnapper! Where are my parents?!”

Bruce winced which, for him, was akin to a full body flinch and recoil. No wonder Barbara was so tired.

“Fix it.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Batsy.” Constantine grumbled.

“Well help, Batman. Though… I’m not sure if he should be doing that.”

Bruce sharply turned his head back to where Dick was. Emphasis on was. Because now, he’s halfway up the giant dinosaur the Robin had insisted they keep.

“Robin, get down from there!”

“Stranger Danger!” Dick hollered back.

Batman- Bruce Wayne- sighed.

“That’s high level magic,” Zatanna hummed. “I can’t feel anything, but I know for sure that he won’t die. Magic like that either dissipates naturally or…”

“Lasts forever,” Constantine finished.

Bruce groaned, shooting off a grappling line and swooping upwards to catch Dick as he fell from the giant dinosaur.

——

“I pretended to get my memories back later,” Dick chuckled. “And pretended to forget the whole thing. Bruce was so relieved that I stopped knocking things over and trying to do cartwheels in high places that he totally forgot I snuck out.”

Dick patted the headstone.

“But between you and me? I’m pretty sure Alfred knew. I think B pissed him off that week.”

[sincere1ystar]

Love’s Last Breath

finnick odair x fem! reader

When an illness comes to threaten the bond you have with Finnick, he proves that he’ll still love you in sickness and in health.

Even though Finnick seemed composed to others, he had a certain type of anger to him. It was the type of anger that ran through his blood and made a home in the vessel that keeps him alive. It’s always felt like a fire to him, not the kind that keeps you warm but the kind that will burn you into ashes. He outlived most of his peers for what? To get to this point? After all he’s went through during the games and being a victor, he can’t help but let it all engulf him.

If he only had one word to describe your presence he would pick ethereal. It fit you perfectly as you brought him peace that he’s never felt before. And once he felt it once he couldn’t fathom going without it? How could he? You blew out his inner fire within him and took care of all his burns. His insides were no longer filled with anguish as your love made a home in the place where it once resided.

So when you caught some mysterious illness, he goes straight back into that state of terror he was constantly in before she met you. Having ill health had nothing to do with man, it was all nature. He couldn’t make it go away in the usual ways he did and that terrified him. Even after building a strong persona for himself by being a victor, Finnick was just a man. And a man against nature has no chance, a message drilled into his head after seeing it in the games. Surviving during the games was his one chance that nature gave him. If he knew what the future would hold he would have held onto that chance and save it for later.

When Finnick opens the door to your hospital room your head is pounding and your whole body feels clammy and damp. You curse yourself for taking it for granted for when you didn’t have dozens of tubes in your arms as you watch the fan on the ceiling spin, it’s the only thing you can do with your lack of energy.

If you were able to you would have teased Finnick when he barges in with a worried expression on his face, but alas you were too weak to do anything but greet him with a small smile.

He greets you with a kiss on your forehead, to which you immediately retreated and tried to back away.

“What’re you doing? Are you crazy?! Don’t do that you’ll get sick”, you say worriedly.

“I was just checkin’ your temperature”, Finnick murmurs into your hairline before he gives you another kiss on your forehead. He can’t help but chuckle at you worrying over his wellbeing as if he was the sick one.

“Well next time use a thermometer”, you mutter playfully in response.

“Nah I don’t think I will”, he whispers to soothe your pounding head , “Think I like this way more… it’s more effective”.

You laugh weakly at his response. Your eyes can barely stay open, but you try your best for his sake. “He certainly didn’t come all this way to watch you rest”, you note to yourself.

But of course he notices the way your eyes seem to be weighing down. He notices the way you have trouble carrying yourself, even though you’re sitting up against a hospital bed. And of course he notices that your glow is gone, snatched away from you despite how hard your grip on it was.

“Rest now”, he murmurs softly, “I’m right here”. He holds his hand in yours to reassure you he isn’t leaving your side.

You’re about to protest when he climbs into the hospital bed with you. The bed was small to begin with so he must be cramped, but still he doesn’t complain as he wraps his arms around you. “Is that better now?”

You nod as you slowly start to fall asleep too weak to do anything else. Finnick doesn’t sleep much, his mind too worried to shut off for the night. He spends most of the night stroking your hair softly and whispering to you whenever you stirred. “Shhh rest honey rest.. I’m right here”, he coos softly everytime.

That’s when you realized that love wasn’t the way Finnick loved you when you were all dressed up and confident in your beauty. Love was when he still cared for you even when you felt like the worst version of yourself. Love was when he still found you gorgeous even though you felt physically rotten.

The phrase ‘love is the best medicine’, was a common saying back home. Finnick’s love brought you more comfort than medicine ever did. Pills filled with empty promises to take away the ache from your bones couldn’t compare to the man who could easily take away the ache in your heart.

[somewherebetweendisorder]

Touch Starved

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Warnings: slight angst I guess? fluff??

~~~

You were used to Jason coming home broken and bloody. Or at least, you should be used to it after two years, but it always comes as a paralyzing shock when he stumbles through the window, eyes wary as they land on you. Tonight is no exception. Just as he is inside the room, he falls to his knees, looking up at you.

"It's bad tonight," he warns, not quite meeting your eyes.

You step closer with the caution you would use to approach a wounded animal. There are days you forget this is your reality. Days when Gotham City didn't demand your fiance's time and soul. Days when the streets didn't deliver your boyfriend back to you, worse for wear and half dead. Days when the thought of having to stitch Jason up didn't even cross your mind.

Those fleeting pieces of normalcy were what propelled you through these nights. The hope that there would be another sunny day, sitting across from Jason at your favorite cafe, soaking up the heat like the baguette in your hand soaking up the minestrone in your bowl. Spoon froze in space halfway to your mouth as he recounted stories of growing up with Dick and Tim. Love weighed down the air around you, heavy with desire and longing and words you were both too terrified to verbalize. But you knew, you both knew what lingered there, in the tiny space between you.

So with that image in mind, fading in potency as you helped Jason to his feet, brought back to reality, you vowed to get him through tonight so that another day was possible. No matter what it requires of you. No matter how brutal the task, like a lighter held to wax, melting away your optimism.

"No."

The word is a cacophony in your bedroom, not a word he uses on you often. You struggle to remember the last time he said it. You can't. Meeting his eyes, a deep green, like spring foliage, you are alarmed by the apathy projected at you.

"What?"

"Not tonight. I'll do it."

"No, Jason, let me help. Please." You know the edge of panic is unmistakable in your voice, but you don't care. If he shuts you out now, it'll take ages to fix the damage.

He shakes his head but doesn't stop you from helping him into the bathroom and easing him down onto the closed lid of the toilet. He grunts in pain, and you wince, reaching for the first aid kit below the sink. The cache of gauze and hydrogen peroxide was long ago depleted from the original case. You have to buy more every couple of weeks.

Twisting the cap off of the brown bottle you set it on the edge of the counter along with a roll of gauze, a tube of ointment, and a pair of scissors that you just sterilized. You force your mind blank as you avoid his hard stare and hiss of pain as you work off his leather jacket and toss it on the floor. You cut off the black shirt he's wearing. It's beyond saving.

Once his torso is bared you set to work, cleaning the numerous wounds. You press a little too hard on a deep cut and he growls, hand encircling your wrist to stop you.

"Y/N."

"I'm sorry, Jason. I'm sorry. It's just-"

"Y/N," he repeats, firmer this time. "Stop."

He pries the antibacterial-soaked cotton pad from your hand and stands, towering over you.

"I'll finish. Go to bed it's late."

His words are dismissive, and he's already turning away from you, but your hand on his uninjured bicep stops him.

"Jace," your voice breaks on the nickname, your frayed nerves catching up with you. "What's going on? Why are you shutting me out?"

He doesn't answer, keeping his back to you. As the tears begin to track down your face, you trail your fingertips down his skin. The touch is soft, meant to soothe, but it's too much for Jason. He's been touch-starved his whole life, and on his worst days, your affection is overwhelming.

"Just stop!"

"No! It's been too long for you to revert to this self-destructive behavior. Stop shutting me out! Let me love you. This is how I love you. Just- Stop Jason, please."

His eyes finally meet yours, bloodshot and overflowing with emotion. Before you know what's happening he's easing down to his knees again, burying his face in your chest, breathing irregularly.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. It was so close tonight I just-"

"It's okay. It's okay," you repeat, fingers gently combing through his hair.

His lips seek yours out, desperate and hungry. You can sense it all, the toll that tonight took on him and the fear that lingers. You give in to the kiss, parting your lips and allowing him to deepen the kiss. As his hands begin to creep up your sides you struggle to tap back into the rational side of your brain. Mind foggy from the kiss you take a small step back, fingers ghosting over his lips.

"Let's finish getting you cleaned up, Jace. Then you can take me to bed."

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - The Stretcher - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

An ugly reckoning...

tw: gore, violence, medical trauma, limb loss

cw: suggestions of inappropriate relationships between mentor and student

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Silco walks on.

Inside, the odor of stale chemicals seeps through the air. Jinx's containment pod is a plexiglas sphere resembling a transparent hive. Inside, she is laid out on a narrow cot. Her left hand—the two clever fingers so cruelly excised—is strapped to a splint.  The stumps are a little red, but clean and dry. Each one is neatly sutured with black thread.

Black as the sucking hole in her chest.

Through the covers, Silco can see the delineations of the wound, a map of gauze adhering to her torso.  The flesh is still flayed. But it is no longer a disaster-site of hideous spillage. The raw tendons are scored with tiny stitches. Each one, a testament to Singed’s ruthlessly meticulous handiwork.

The rest of Jinx is bone pale as if the scant pigment on her skin has been sucked dry. Her freckles stand out in stark pinpricks.

Two bags of fluid hang on a metal pole, drip-drip-dripping down a tube into a needle jammed into her arm. The steady flow of antibiotics, morphine, and synthesized Shimmer will bolster her vitals and keep her under.  Her breathing—a tarred constriction of bubbles caught in her perforated lungs—has smoothed over the course of the night.  But it remains an effortful jag: deep, dragging, discordant.

Silco's guts churn. The instinctive grind of rage is offset by guilt.

Then: shock.

Jinx is not alone.

A longer body's curved around Jinx's small one. One arm, the sleeve rolled to the elbow, is flung over her hip. Fingertips splay against her thigh: an anchor. The other arm, metallic, makes a protective arc over Jinx's skull. The cybernetic fingers, tipped with steel, are threaded in her blue hair. The head, half-obscured in lank brown curls, is tipped to Jinx's own.

Their temples mirror. Their eyelashes kiss.  The cadence of their chests rises and falls in concert.

The Hexcore, with hypnotic rotations, bathes Jinx and Viktor in a violet glow.  

From his own extremities, Silco feels pure rage blast open as the Monster unlocks.

"What the hell—?"

Singed looms from the corner of the medbay: tall and fleshlessy thin as a mantis. He's clad in a white smock resembling a butcher's apron. The barest smear of blood is caught in the weave. He glances up at Silco's snarl.

Apart from an expression of insectile alertness, he shows no other signs of concern.

"Ah," he says. "You've returned."

"Open the pod." 

"I beg your pardon?"

"Viktor. What in the frozen hell is he—?"

"He's aiding her retrieval."

"What?"

"Her retrieval," Singed says, in the same imperturbable tone. "From what I understand, a plunge into the Void is not unlike falling into arctic waters. It takes a strong grip to pull oneself out. J17 is a skilled swimmer. But she remains partially submerged. She'll need a guide to drag her to the shore."   

"He has no right to—"

"To what? Hold his companion's hand?"  

"Companion?"

Singed nods.

Silco's jaw locks as the Doctor's meaning sinks in.

Guardians and Mages. He'd known, in his bones, that the bond between Viktor and Jinx held a strange, unearthly resonance. A tie that binds, like gravity does a comet: two celestial forces, inexorably pulled together by the galvanic charge of their shared potential. 

He'd assumed the nature of the bond was intellectual. That their kinship was a matter of mathematics: two minds, one wavelength.  Then Jinx's spells of strangeness and self-enforced secrecy began. He thinks of the audio recordings in the Aerie: the susurrations and whispers. The ungodly silence.

It wasn't sex—no matter the wildness of his paranoia, he knew Jinx was still too innocent, and that her tastes lay elsewhere. But the overtones—of communion, and a deeper, almost otherworldly intimacy—were terrifying.

Now, seeing them together—a tangle of arms, a knotting of fingers—his worst fears have been made manifest.

It's plain, from the ease between their bodies, that Jinx has slept in Viktor's arms before. Plain, too, that it's happened enough times for this closeness to take on overtones of trust.  A trust Silco had invited: to his doorstep, past his threshold, and straight to his daughter’s bed. 

A trust that’s been repaid with disaster.

Reflexively, Silco's fists ball.

"Open the pod," he says. 

"What?"

"Open it."

"With all due respect, that is not the wisest course of action." Singed remains maddeningly equable. He could be discussing a minor surgical procedure: the pros and cons of local versus general anesthetic. "The Hexcore—from what I gather—is acting as a buffer. It is protecting both J17 and Viktor as they work to draw her out. To separate them at this juncture would risk a backlash."

"Backlash?"

"I'm speaking in metaphysical rather than medical terms. From what I have gleaned, the Hexcore is a living organism. It has its own will and wants. I am not privy to the nature of the bargain it has struck with Viktor. But I hazard that it is his key to the Void. And that, in exchange for entry, it protects his and Jinx’s corporeal forms. To rip them apart would be... traumatic. For all parties present."

In Viktor's embrace, Jinx expels a sigh.  There's a subtle alteration in her breathing. The Void creeping across her brainwaves, perhaps. Viktor's arm flexes around her. His own breathing—that half-mechanical, half-organic rasp—deepens. His lips touch her temple. 

The Hexcore sings. The pitch is nearly ethereal.

Two spirits: locked in orbit.

Silco's jaw grinds. A vein ticks in his temple. Whatever's happening, it is not something he comprehends. Not something, he suspects, meant to be comprehended.  But that doesn't stymie the rage. Nor the dread.

The former, he can dissect with a cool eye, peel it down to the viscera of what it is: a primal need to keep his child safe. 

The latter, though...

That's a formless shadow stretching over his psyche. The sense of something very, very huge: a force the size of a godhead eclipsing the horizon. And the stormfront, lightning-laced, is rolling across the sea straight towards his ship of destiny.

It's not often Silco feels his smallness. But he does now, and the fallout is brutal.

"You knew," he says, deathly soft.

"Hm?"

"You knew. About Viktor. Compromising my child."

Singed is not a shrugger. Hedging is not his strong suit. But his silence speaks for itself.

"I would not call such a bond a compromise," he says at length. "In some ways, it was inevitable.  Viktor is extraordinarily gifted. J17, a creature of pure potential. They are both seekers in the dark. It makes sense that they'd find each other." A slight cant to his head: a gesture of self-reproach. "I will admit: I should have informed you. But there was no reason to believe the entanglement was of a carnal nature."

"No reason to believe they weren't fucking?"

The vulgarism stirs Singed out of scholarly calm. He doesn't smile. But his lipless mouth shows a glint of teeth. It's the same expression he'd wear when Silco would return to the Cannery after prowling the dank cloaca of the Lanes.

Always: with a plaything on his arm and ill-gotten gains in his pocket.  

He'd often likened Silco's gravitation toward vice as a form of self-medicating. The sex, the drugs, the power-plays: all symptoms of a man whose eye could not close, and needed other means to unwind. Other ways to blot out the light. 

It was a diagnosis Silco only partially agreed with. It was not autonomic impediment that kept his bad eye from closing. Simply the refusal to look away from the world as it was.

Now, his bad eye smolders in its socket. It's a marvel the Doctor doesn't wilt in its heat. Then again, Singed's always been a hard man to burn.

It's what he and Silco have in common.

"No," he says. "That, I do not believe."

"Is that so?"

"Given Viktor's... condition... it's unlikely."

"I'm not sure if you're aware, Doctor—" Silco's tone, beneath the frigid civility, is honed to cut jugulars, "—but there are ways around that."

The glint of teeth deepens. A grin, however cold. "Oh, I am aware.  But I'm also aware of Viktor's nature. I've known him since he was a boy. Frailty's always been his cross to bear. But that has not diminished his drives. Only... redirected them, as it were." 

"Sublimation."

"You sound dubious."

Silco's good eye slits. Singed's grin fades.

"I understand. We're men of pragmatic bent. There will always be a selfish component to our pursuits. A willingness to see the big picture, even if it means putting our better selves on the backburner."  He turns to the pod. "Viktor is different. His nature has a singular trajectory: up. He wants to ascend. To break free of limitations: both inborn and self-imposed. Sex, in comparison, is a dead-end. Love, though? That's something else. Something that can take him to the stars." 

Silco follows his stare. The pair, entwined, are haloed in violet. Their breathing is slow and steady.

A duet.

"The boy's always longed for a taste of the transcendent," Singed muses. "I imagine, in J17, he's found it. A force of pure creation. Pure entropy. It is only in chaos that order can thrive. The sense of a divine plan is what gives meaning to the world. And a multivalent, fractal reality is what allows a scientific theory to evolve into law."

Silco's knuckles pop. He says nothing. 

"If it helps," the Doctor adds, "I doubt the boy's done worse than hold her hand. The way he speaks of her, one would think her a... psychopomp. Someone to guide him to a higher plane of knowledge. Someone whose existence is to be worshiped. Not possessed."

"Worship and possession," Silco replies, in the voice of cold prescience, "often end the same way."

"Oh?"

"With someone on their knees."

Singed doesn't laugh, exactly. The sound's too measured. But his mangled lips stretch to show the full set of teeth. They hold the implacable sheen of scalpels. Each one slitting its careful way through the tissue of Silco's self-control.

"A cynic's view," he says. "And one I disagree with."

"Do you, now?"

"I'll grant there is a physical element to their closeness. But, I suspect, the physical is merely a conduit to that higher plane. A literal touchstone to guide them through the dark. The true roadmap, as it were, is the end each of them seeks."

"That end being?"

"Balance," Singed says. "If my theory is correct, they each serve as a counterpoise to the other. J17, in her unbound potential: a spirit of half flesh, half catalyst. A force in constant flux. Viktor, in his rigid catechism: a being forged in metal and magic. The very dictum of death. Each is, in their own way, an anomaly. Together, they are a paradox. One that introduces a new paradigm."

"Paradigm."

"Cause and effect." The grin's gone. Only Singed's eyes shine: a cold, methodical zeal. "Or, in your language: cost and reward."

A chill steals through Silco.

It's not the first time Singed's dissections of the metaphysical have taken a macabre turn. For the Doctor, the two are indistinguishable: the duality of life and death reduced to quantifiable variables of mess and mass. In his laboratory, Silco's witnessed the results firsthand.

The Doctor's a man who understands that knowledge only goes as deep as the knife cuts.  And Silco, a man who has cut to the marrow of humanity's ugliness, knows there's no limit to the incision when the rest's been pared clean. 

"If your intention was to disarm me," he says flatly, "you've failed."

"Disarm." Singed's chuckle is dry as bone dust. "Old friend, you are not the weapon. Only the steel that whets its edge."

"Flattery?"

"Fact." The corners of Singed's eyes crinkle. "We are, both of us, mere tools for a greater design."

Jinx cries out.

In the pod, the Hexcore spins rapidly. The rotations, faster and faster, become a multicolored blur. The fluctuating glow—sometimes blue, sometimes red—is phantasmagoric. Silco has the sense of something primordial unspooling into existence. The birth of a star, on a spiritual scale: chemical fusion gone mystic.

A subsonic hum fills the air. Jinx's cry spikes.

Her whole body begins shaking: a subtle network of pain radiating, it seems, from the epicenter of her wound. Viktor's embrace holds. But beads of sweat pop on his temples. His breathing goes choppy.  The pod's plexiglas walls turn milky as if with steam.

No—frost.

Silco can see the lattice of ice spreading. The cracks, fanning in jagged starbursts, resemble spiderweb.

Meanwhile, Viktor and Jinx may as well be under a full rig of stage lights: both of them are simmering in their skins.

Jinx's pallor is engulfed by a bright pink flush. Her breath comes in rapid drags. Her good right hand, fluttering, finds Viktor's good left. Their palms align, fingers twining. The twin rows of knuckles, flesh and bone, are deathly white.

The Hexcore's singing deepens. Jinx's own cry climbs to a keen.

Silco races forward. "Jinx!"

Before he can touch the pod, Singed seizes his arm. The grip is cold, cadaverous, yet somehow comforting.

"Not yet," he urges, as Jinx's wails echo and re-echo. "It's not done yet."

"Let go! She needs me—"

"No." Singed's grip is as unyielding as his gaze. "She needs to finish this. As does Viktor. Let them see it through."

Silco stares. Blood beats in his temples. He understands, remotely, that he is terrified. Paralysis, its predictable residue, clings like a second skin. It's a heaviness he despises. It's why he is so quick to reassert self-dominion with a dose of violence. To defend himself, monster and man, from threats that would otherwise devour him.

But what if the threat's taken root in the tenderest parts?

What if it can never be excised?

(Is that fatherhood?)

Tossing her head, Jinx screams. Viktor, gasping, shudders.

The Hexcore's pulsations go critical.

Then—with a flash of brilliant blue—the humming ebbs. The pod's opalescent frost, in icy bloom, evaporates. Within, Jinx and Viktor subside into stillness. Their hands are still twined, their foreheads together. Both breathe in unison. 

But there's a dissonance in the rhythm. A harmony, that, while still in tandem, is their own.

Viktor is the first to wake.

His arm loosens its cradle around Jinx. His head stirs, the dark crown dislodging against its blue perch of her skull. The gold eyes—with their black-rimmed core—flicker. They are glazed in shock.  Then he blinks, and they regain focus. The lineaments of his expression—grim-lipped and hollow-cheeked—are ones Silco knows well.

The sense of a spirit coming to the limits of its endurance, and shattering the barrier.

Now he's unsure what awaits on the other side.

Slowly, the golden eyes swivel. They find Singed. They find Silco. Then they fall on his and Jinx's still-linked hands. Something flickers across his wan face. Not a smile, exactly. But a certain softness around the hard brackets of his mouth.

As if he'd held on to a fear for dear life. And now, finding it unfounded, can let it go.

With a gentle tug, he unthreads their fingers.

Jinx doesn't stir. But she lets off a long slow exhalation that could be sadness, or a deep release of tension. Viktor disentangles their bodies. He does so with a delicate, deliberate care, keeping a light contact of fingertips all the way down her torso. Silco follows their path to Jinx's ribcage.

Under the gauze, the wound is closed. The meat is seared like a brand. But there's no trace of torn skin. Even the stitches—each raw suture point—have shrunk into a smooth pink furrow.

Jinx breathes. Each rise and fall—seamless—is a small miracle.

Silco is not a devout man. Contemptuous of all matters devotional, he treats prayer like a poor business transaction: an unstable currency of sacrifice, with no guarantee of success.

Now, the gratitude that floods his lungs is nearly a baptism. He hates every iota: the helplessness, the loss of agency.

But loves, gut-wrenchingly, what it's restored.

With effort, Viktor straightens. His bare feet, touching the tiles, let off a metallic clink. One hand grips the bedframe. The other reaches for his cane. Every muscle delineates the difficulty of keeping his balance.

The sheer exertion of willpower in holding his mind and body together.

As with all impossible endeavors, he does not falter.

"It is done," he says, hoarse but steady.  "She is back."

"Back?"

"Within herself. The Void... has touched her heart. She has seen its own. But she is intact."

"Intact?"

"She will recover." He swallows with a liquid click. "In time."

Silco nods.

On the rumpled sheets, Jinx sleeps. Her breaths hold a deep-sea serenity. Her delicate features are preciously girlish and lost-looking. The sight suffuses Silco with a tenderness that yet calls up the horror of it all.

He takes himself to a place of stillness, and allows himself to feel it. Not just last night's ordeal. Everything leading up to it. Strategy after strategy, error after error, so the outcome is the same as when Zaun first emerged from its ravaged shell.

His child in a sickbed. His paternal devotion in a deathmatch with politics. His and Vi's blood game no more than a war against specters.

A war they've both lost.

Badly.

Silco's eyes pass from his sleeping beauty to the man who'd saved her life.

"Doctor," Silco says. "Open the pod."

Singed does not argue. With a deft touch, he flips the controls. 

The plexiglas shell retracts. The air, trapped, is instantly sucked out. It is unseasonably warm from Jinx's and Viktor's body-heat. The smell holds a sterile bite of disinfectant. Underneath, a faint trace of musk lingers.

The unforgettable odor has been imprinted on Silco's olfactory landscape since Jinx began working with the Hex-gem. The permeating ozone-stink of night sweats and lightning strikes.

The afterglow of the Void.

Now Silco detects the component he'd not dared to put a name to: that singular, almost sexual tang. Two spirits, intertwined, coupling in a realm without flesh. 

Right under his roof.

His eyes lock on Viktor's. The younger man's ambivalent features, caught between exhaustion and relief, shift. Wariness creeps in. It's not the fear of reckoning. More the full awareness of a gamble gone sour.

Now the ruin, no matter how cataclysmic, must be accounted for.

The gold eyes—infinitely patient, infinitely reckless—do not waver.

"I believe," Viktor says, "you have questions."

"I do," Silco says. Then: "Doctor. Fetch the stretcher."

Singed's head takes on an insectile slant. As if he's caught the taste of blood in his mandibles, and is trying to parse its source.

"Stretcher?" he repeats. "Whatever for?"

"Viktor."

"The boy seems perfectly—"

Crossing the distance, Silco lays a hand on Viktor's shoulder. A steadying, almost paternal clasp.

The Monster, unsheathing its claws, rakes down.

His fist slams into Viktor's gut. The young man staggers with a strangled cry. His cane clatters. The rest of him slumps, jelly-legged, as Silco follows with a snapping right hook, smoking it straight through the boy's frail defense and connecting with his jaw.

There is a satisfying snap of bone on bone. The sound, visceral and rich, kickstarts a tidal wave of blackness that seethes from the balls of Silco's feet and climbs all the way to his hairline.

The Monster is awake, and it is hungry.

"Doctor," Silco says, as Viktor crumples to the floor. "The stretcher."

Wisely, Singed obeys.

[circe69]

[𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒] - 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 “𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓”𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

taking a break from requests for a moment… need to make sure my brain still works 😵‍💫 you guys have been the sweetest to me lately and i do not deserve it!💕

tw/tags: very fluffy, strong tension, touching, sweet!ghost, you help put black paint around ghosts eyes.

꧁ ꧂ part 2 here!

you scurried your way down the dark hallway, trying to professionally remain calm but also escape from the ghosts and/or monsters that could potentially be chasing you. ghosts door was right as the end of the hall, all you had to do was make it there.

the door swung open before you even step within 10 feet of it, and you felt yourself take a few steps backwards as a result of how fast you halted.

your lieutenants masked face was the only thing you could see peeking out the door. “a pack of deaf dogs could hear ya coming from miles away,” he remarked, trying not to pay attention to your chest rising and falling as you placed a hand on it to quiet your heartbeat.

“it’s just” you took a minute to catch your breath, “so dark in here. it’s terrifying.”

his blank stare wasn’t as scary as it was attractive for you, but you could see the sarcasm just brewing. “you chose this job, and you’re afraid of hallways?” ghost stepped out of his door slightly, leaning against it with one shoulder and crossing his arms across his chest.

you rolled your eyes and placed two fingers on the bridge of your nose; not only at his comment, but at his stance. always asserting dominance, as if he needs to. the man could breath and people would run away in fear. he unfortunately loves it, lives for scaring people. but something about your presence made his exterior more calm, and somehow hilarious as he tries his best to flirt.

“yeah well, i was just coming to wish you good luck on your next mission. your heading back home, aren’t you? the ol’ manchester?” you tried to joke around, imitating a poorly constructed british accent, but it only made ghosts eyes close shut out of embarrassment.

once his eyes opened a few seconds later, they met yours. like truly met yours. his were deep brown, almost black crashing against the perfect white surrounding them. after a few seconds more of strange tension that only seemed to be building by the minute, he nodded his head towards inside your room.

“since you’re here,there’s something you could help me with, i suppose.” without another thought, you followed him inside his living quarters. as gruff and disorganized as the man seemed, his room was pristine; kept in almost perfect condition. a few pictures and souvenirs that i’m sure he’d argue “everyone else was getting one, so i had to” but the truth was, he loved collecting things. from seashells to postcards, he wanted them all. you wanted to ask about all his trinkets, but before you could, you were distracted by ghosts loud footsteps and the shedding of his outer layer.

he took off his vest and jacket, leaving only a black tee and his camouflage pants, and the sight made you almost anxious. seeing your lieutenant get comfortable? it was as unsettling as it was exciting for you, and the sight of his bare and inked forearms was enough to make you insane.

ghost walked over to his sink and mirror, and pulled the first drawer open. after digging through it and incidentally dropping a few things on his carpet, he grabbed a tube of black face paint and held it out to you.

“i need to put it around my eyes,” he said while pointing at his face, “for y’know, the mission.”

you smiled at his awkward but genuine words. it meant you were finally getting through to him, and that maybe all those times you tried to start conversations only for him to seem uninterested, maybe they were working.

“sure. sit down somewhere, you’re too tall.” you said, taking the tube of paint and following him to where he sat on a small couch.

it wasn’t until now that you realized what was about to happen. in order for you to put face-paint on ghost, he would have to take his mask off. therefore, you’d get to see what he looked like! therefore, he’d probably kill you if you ever told anyone or brought this up ever again.

you paused to look at him for a moment, "are you really gonna let me see you?"

he looked back up at you, eyebrows shooting up at your question. it conveyed that he didn't realize what he had to do either. no one had seen his face in years, he barely ever saw it himself. but regardless, ghost nodded and slowly slid off his mask after taking a long deep breath, showing his face in its entirety.

you shuddered out a breath before swallowing it, you hadn't thought you'd ever have the chance to see his face, but all of it made perfect sense. his features aligned with another as if he was painted, or sculpted from clay. you had to control yourself not to run along the lines of his thick cheekbones and strong jaw.

squeezing out a bit of blank paint, you took it between your fingers and hesitantly started going over his eyes. they closed once your fingers made contact with his face, and an involuntary sigh of pleasure escaped his mouth. after years, you were all he could think about. he almost hated himself for it; there hadn't been a single person or thing that distracted him from his work as much as you did. but as time passed, all he wanted was for you to touch him and not be afraid like everyone else was.

you carefully smeared the staining liquid along his upper face, being sure not to get it too close to his eyes. he couldn't remember the last time someone was this gentle with him, but he wouldn't have expected anything else coming from you.

once you finished, you took a minute to just gaze at him. eyes closed peacefully, as if he had never known fear or danger, as if you were the safest person he could think of. he'd never admit it, but he would run to you from danger in a heartbeat out of pure selfishness and admiration, and you'd do the same for him.

you tapped him on his thigh to signal you were done, with the paint as well as the staring. you tried to memorize every part of him, every inch that was covered in freckles or scars that he probably hated but that you loved.

his eyes slowly opened, finding yours immediately. "thanks," he said in a quiet tone, trying to break eye contact but just not being able to. there's no where he'd rather be right now, and the fact is, that he planned the whole thing. you running down the hallway, you wishing him farewell, he knew you'd do it so he prepared, knowing very well this could be the last time he ever got to see you.

"y/n, i need to tell you something." ghost said as you stood from your spot on the coffee table across from him, wiping the paint off on your jeans. the question caused you to pause and slowly sit back down, "yeah, what's up?"

he cleared his throat a few times before carrying on, “i think-”

all the sudden, his door was banged on before captain price entered.

“ghost. get your things, we’re leaving early.”

[daddysgotadoll]

You wake up in a strange place, tied down so tightly that you can't move, not even to lift your head. You're on your back with your legs spread and your arms tied down and when you open your eyes, there's a mirror above you, reflecting back your bare body and terrified eyes.

You can't even scream. There's a tube in your mouth, held in place with straps around your head. It doesn't run down your throat, just into your mouth and behind your teeth.

Then everything begins to activate one at a time.

A vibrator pulses against your clit in short but powerful bursts. Vibrators on your nipples to the same. As you get wet against your will, a machine starts slowly pushing a dildo inside you, so slowly it makes you shiver. Each device slowly gets faster until you're getting fucked brutally, you're screaming around the tube, but the vibrators still bring you up to the edge.

Something starts to feed into the tube. It's thick and warm and salty. Cum, you realize with disgust. But it doesn't stop. You have so choice but to swallow or to choke on it. For a moment, the orgasm that was building backs off but your disgust can't last long like this.

You moan and squeeze around the dildo and just before you cum, everything stops. You whine struggle, but there's no where for you to go.

Once you're calm, heart rate settled, no longer excited, it all starts again from the beginning. Over and over edging you until you forget there was ever anything else.

And then you're finally ready.

You wake again, bent over a breeding bench. You're tied down with a gag keeping your mouth open. Someone comes and rubs your clit, only for a moment, but it's enough that you're instantly dripping. They stuff their cock inside you, fucking your ass as hard as they please.

Someone else comes to fuck your mouth. There's nothing in your stomach but cum so when you choke that's all that comes up. They both fuck you until they cum, but your body has been edged for so long that you can't cum. Not the first time you're fucked or the second or the tenth. Not even when they rub your clit and play with your nipples.

Your pussy just drips and you moan.

[drmaddict]

Mask

Summary: (Y/n) shows Ghost a different kind of mask.

Wordcount: 1.252

The myth, the phantom, the death with the mask, Ghost flinched.

(Y/n) just rolled her eyes.

Simon continued to stare blankly at her.

(Y/n) stared back.

Simon made circular motions in front of his face with his index finger and looked at his girlfriend questioningly.

"A sheet mask.", she explained and closed her eyes. "My skin is always dry in winter, so I do it more often."

Simon continued to look at his girlfriend. He had only recently started spending the night at her place more often. As a result, they had become more familiar with each other's daily rituals.

(Y/n) knew that he got up at 4 a.m. every day. (Y/n) had immediately given him a wrist alarm clock that vibrated to wake him up, so she wouldn't be constantly woken up in 'the middle of the night' just because he wanted to exercise.

By now, Simon was familiar with her evening beauty routine, as well as the weekly, extensive 'reset', as she called it. Bath, face mask, peeling, hair removal, eyelash lift (something that frankly terrified him), henna make-up, eyebrows-something.

He couldn't see through it, but it seemed to do her good.

Still, this image was new.

"Tell your eyebrows to relax.", she murmured.

Simon forced his face to relax. "Sorry.", he grumbled.

"It's okay." She relaxed and leaned her head back against the back of the sofa. "My face is just too small for these things. But it's so nice and cool on the skin." A grin steels itself on her lips. "I'm sure they'd fit you better."

Simon just grumbled dismissively as a ring went off from (Y/n)s phone. She jumped up and headed for the bathroom. His unmasked girlfriend came back and grinned mischievously at him.

"What?", he asked immediately, alarmed.

She pulled a small packet out from behind her back and held it under his nose.

"No.", Simon clarified and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

She pouted. "Oh, come on. It's really nice and good for your skin."

Simon raised an eyebrow. He pointed to his face. "Good for the skin? You can see the cheshire smile, can't you? Or the scar that nearly cost me my eye? The burn-"

"Simon-" she interrupted him. "I mean that..." She took a deep breath. "You think I haven't noticed that you have scarring pain and always get earaches when the weather changes, or that your eyes hurt when it storms?" She looked at the little blue packet. "Something like that helps to provide relief.", she pouted.

Simon sighed. He had hoped she wouldn't notice. "All right."

He sat down forcefully on the sofa and crossed his arms.

(Y/n) looked at him before she carefully grabbed his hand and pulled it.

"To the bathroom.", was all she said.

"What for?"

"I have to prepare the face first.", she shrugged.

Simon looked at her. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

(Y/n) shook her head in amusement, but pulled him behind her.

No sooner had Simon been placed on the toilet seat than she reached for a tube in her arsenal.

She squeezed a white, creamy substance onto her fingers and looked at him, beaming. "Can I?", she asked.

Simon nodded. She dabbed his face with a wet towel and then began to spread the stuff over his face. Her hands massaged in circles over his skin.

"What's that?", he asked.

"Cleansing milk.", she said simply.

"You know soap works too."

"Men." she just mumbled. "Wash up." she delegated.

Simon leaned over the sink and rinsed the stuff off.

He was immediately pushed back onto the seat and dabbed with a towel.

He was still processing the feeling on his skin, when (Y/n) reached for another bottle and dabbed the contents onto a cotton pad.

She ran it over his forehead, his cheeks and his chin. She was particularly careful with his larger scars. Simon looked at her concentrated face. Warmth fluttered around his heart.

She threw the small piece of cotton into the garbage can next to the sink.

Simon noticed that his skin wasn't as tight as usual. He usually just took a bar of soap and washed himself with it.

(Y/n) finally tore open the blue packaging and pulled out a slippery-looking white something.

"That looks weird", he said.

(Y/n) just grumbled in agreement. "Put your head back a little.", she said, gently placing her hands on his jaw and pushing his head into the desired position.

Simon waited patiently. She carefully placed the face-shaped thing first on his forehead, then his nose and then positioned the cut-outs so that they matched his facial features.

"Yes, your face is better suited to the standard size.", she sighed as she adjusted the piece here and there.

Simon let his eyes fall shut as she started to scratch his scalp.

"And?" she asked softly, sitting down on his lap for comfort.

He hummed with pleasure. "Refreshing.", was all he said.

She laughed and pulled her hands back towards her, but Simon immediately pulled them back to his head.

He kept his eyes closed the whole time, enjoying (Y/n's) caring hands.

Only when her phone beeped again and she slowly pulled the mask off his face, did he let his eyes flutter open again.

Her fingers began to massage in the excess fluid.

He let his arms move around her hips and pulled her against his chest.

She grinned at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Satisfied?", he asked.

She nodded, beaming, and stroked his short hair again.

He pressed a kiss to her nose and buried his freshly groomed face in her neck.

"What are you doing?"

Simon put the pink tube back in its place in a flash. "Nothing."

(Y/n) looked at him with amusement. Simon looked back, caught off guard.

She reached into the small cupboard under the sink and pulled out two headbands. She put one on and pressed the other, still wrapped, into Simon's hand. "Move over.", she said, nudging him lightly with her hip.

Simon put the band to one side and held out his hand as (Y/n) squeezed a small amount of the cleansing cream onto her fingertips. She also put a small amount on his hand, put the tube down and started to clean her face. Simon did the same in silence.

They each went about their own business.

"You do know, that we will be doing this always together when you're here from now on, don't you?"

"I had suspected."

(Y/n) grinned and put on under-eye pads. She also held a pair out to Simon.

He looked at the two gel pads extensively, before pressing them to his face, as (Y/n) had done.

"I still have a lot to show you my friend.", she grinned.

Simon looked at her. Without make-up, wearing only one of his shirts, she stood there and had never been so beautiful as with those green things under her eyes.

He smiled gently at her. "I'm a fast learner."

She pulled him in for a quick kiss. "I noticed.", she smiled and pushed the slipped pad back into place.

"You and Johnny would get along well.", he muttered. "His ratio of hair care products to actual careable hair is irrational."

(Y/n) shook her head with a laugh and scratched the back of his neck. "I'd rather spoil you."

He rested his forehead against hers. "Thank you."

[frvnkcastles]

Hi favorite! 

Frank x reader who has panic attacks every time she sees a needle in a ptsd response and frank knows this, she needs to take blood for a test and he goes with her and calms the panic attack and comforts her

TAKE MY HAND, YOU’LL BE FINE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You’re terrified of needles, so when you have to get blood drawn, you need Frank more than ever.

Warnings: Needles, panic attack, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.2k

Author’s note: Hope you like this anon! <3

Frank’s comforting hold on your hand was currently the only thing keeping you from absolutely losing your shit. The window of the car was rolled down so you could feel the cool breeze on your heated face, and your knee was bouncing up and down with a relentless pace. Despite Frank’s attempts to soothe you, you were so close to fully freaking out, and you weren’t sure he could pull you back from that dangerous edge.

You were regretting going to the emergency room terribly right now. You had gotten checked in for some dizziness and nausea, and the next thing you knew, the doctor had you signed up for a blood test — something you never, ever did. You had a zero tolerance for needles, and the idea of getting one inserted into your veins made you sick in the stomach and your knees weak.

But, with all love, Frank refused to let you risk it. You may not have been into needles, but he certainly wasn’t into your well-being being compromised. So, with reassuring promises that he’d be by your side the whole time, he had ushered you into the car a few days after your initial appointment and driven you to the lab.

”It’ll be over quickly, sweetheart. You’re my brave girl, you got this”, Frank started cheering you on once you were parked. In fact, the car had stopped minutes ago, but you weren’t able to get yourself on the move yet, your entire body stuck on the passenger seat.

With a sigh, not a frustrated one but a sympathetic one, Frank unbuckled himself and took the keys from the ignition before hopping out of the car and striding to your side. He opened the door and held out his hand for you, the look on his face full of encouragement, and with a shaky exhale, you interlocked your fingers with his thick ones and hopped out of the truck. You really didn’t want to do this, but the only thing getting you to act was the fact that you didn’t want to disappoint Frank. He believed in you so much, and he had driven all this way, so you refused to let him down.

He held your hand all the way to the waiting room where you sat down side by side, his alert eyes scanning the surroundings like he always did. There were only a few people, so you suspected you wouldn’t have to wait long, giving you only a little time to prepare yourself for the upcoming terror. As much as you wanted to be brave about it, you had no control over your reaction, and it annoyed you greatly. Frank understood, though.

”Hey, it’s gon’ be all right. I know you’re terrified, sweet girl, but in ten minutes we’re gonna be outta here. How ’bout I take you out for some pizza afterwards, huh?” he suggested, his eyes gentle as he looked at you, and with a faint smile, you nodded.

”That sounds nice”, you admitted, and with a grin, Frank pulled you in closer, his arm around your shoulders.

”Attagirl.”

Just like you had suspected, you were called in only minutes later, and with a gulp, you glanced at Frank. He gave you a look of complete faith and love, and you held onto that as you got up and pulled him behind you. Thankfully, the nurse didn’t protest when he walked in with you, and you clung onto Frank’s hand while you sat down on the chair with anxiety churning in your gut.

The nurse talked you through the process, promising that it was going to be quick, but you didn’t really take in any of what she told you. You were too preoccupied staring at the needle and the tubes that were going to be filled with your blood, and without warning, the panic kicked in.

Frank immediately noticed your shallow breaths and the way your eyes widened, and his heart shattered in his chest at the sight of you writhing in the chair. ”Give us a moment, yeah?” he asked the nurse, who kindly nodded and scooted her chair over to her desk to give you some space. Frank squatted down to be at your eye level, his hand finding a place to rest on your shoulder.

”Look at me, sweetheart. ’M right here. I promise you, it’s gonna be just a minute. All you gotta do is look at my face and squeeze my hand, aight? Squeeze it as hard as you can”, he comforted you, calm and collected as he talked you through the incoming panic attack. ”Easy, darlin’. Breathe with me”, he went on, staying close to you and locking eyes with you so that you’d have something to focus on.

You trembled, but with his help, you managed to fight off the panic, your breathing slowing down to normal. Your heart was still racing and your palms sweaty, but you chose to believe Frank — it was just going to be a brief moment, and he was right there with you through it.

”Okay”, you exhaled, ”I’m ready.”

The nurse rolled her chair back to you and praised you for being brave while opening the package of the needle. Frank noticed you staring at it again, and he quickly reacted. ”No, no, keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. Nothin’ else but my ugly mug”, he insisted, and a nervous chuckle slipped out of you.

”You’re not ugly, Frankie”, you argued back, but you still did as he had requested, and kept your eyes trained on him. You focused on his beaten nose, and when the needle pierced your skin, you took in a sharp breath and turned your attention to his deep, dark eyes. You saw the proud look in them, and it made you feel better. You looked at his lips next, convinced that he had earned the biggest kiss for when you’d be done.

”Doin’ so good, baby. Almost done”, Frank spoke with admiration, and as you trailed your eyes across the bruises all over his face, you were able to distract yourself from the needle.

The nurse finished, and while telling you that you had done well, she taped some cotton on your arm to stop the bleeding. You breathed out in relief, a tear escaping your eye as you realized you had survived the worst, and it put a smile on your face when you looked over to Frank.

”That’s my girl. Knew you could do it”, he commended you, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

You said your goodbyes to the nurse and left the room, all the while applying pressure on your arm. Frank had a protective grip on your free hand, and when you made it outside, you finally felt like you could breathe.

”Thank you so much for being here. I really couldn’t have done it without you”, you reminded Frank, stopping him from walking just so you could reach up and kiss him. He happily responded, his nose brushing against yours as he kissed you back, passionate enough for heat to crawl up to your cheeks when you pulled away.

”Anytime, sweetheart”, he smiled, ”now, I’m pretty sure I promised you pizza.”

[theoriginalkaminari]

Toga Himiko x female!reader

Warnings: character death, blood, reader has a Blood Manipulation quirk and goes by she/her

Request

"Oh wow, Toga!" You're eyes widen as you see the blonde smile.

Toga braced herself for your next words. She was ready to be told how terrifying her smile was, how terrifying SHE was. After all, she was used to people telling her that.

"Its so cute!"

Her thoughts change when she hears your words. You think she's...cute? Specifically her smile? Toga feels her cheeks heat up in a soft blush and reaches her hands up to your face, squishing your cheeks.

This sudden action takes you by surprise, making a pink blush spread across your face.

Toga giggled softly at your reaction, leaning in closer to your face. Her soft lips press against your forehead in a gentle kiss. She pulls back slightly, looking at how red your face is.

Toga giggled, holding you hands. These were some of her favorite moments with you.

Toga Himiko loved you more than anything.

The cold wind brushes against her face and through her hair, the atmosphere tense and sad.

No. This couldn't be happening. Not again.

Not you. Anyone BUT you.

She saw how one of the people she dearly loved snapped your neck in a brutal battle.

She saw how Izuku Midoriya took your life.

Your cold and lifeless lays on the ground, blood pooling around you. You eyes held nothing but a cold gray sky as you stared up endlessly into the sky. The sound of your neck cracking echos in her ears. The sickening snap of your bones.

You still looked beautiful to her. So pretty, all covered in your own blood.

But she didn't want this to be the end.

She always dreamed of living with you. In a fancy penthouse in Tokyo, maybe with a cute little dog or cat.

She always wanted that to be a reality. To spend the rest of her life with you.

Toga remembered the day you joined the League of Villains.

"Your quirk is Blood Manipulation, right?" She asks, tilting her head. You look over to the blonde girl, nodding your head. "Mhm." You hum in agreement.

Toga leans closer to you, making you lean back, slightly uncomfortable with how close she was.

"Lets be friends!" She says, smiling widely.

You don't get a chance to answer before she wraps you in a tight embrace. "I can't wait to see how your blood tastes!"

Your eyes widen, looking down at her with a shocked expression. "I'm sorry. What?"

Toga felt tears stream down her face as she stared at your body. She looks at Izuku Midoriya, her face stained in her own tears and her eyes red and puffy from crying. She looked at him with confusion and sadness.

"Why did you do that?" She finally asks him, her voice wavering. "She didn't do anything wrong..."

Izuku doesn't respond. He clenches his fists, looking directly at her. "I'm sorry." He whispers, turning away from her as he walks off.

Toga watches him leave with confusion and shock.

Why did he just walk away? Why did he kill you? Why....

Toga looked down at your body, suddenly filled with anger. She loved Izuku Midoriya, but she loved you more. And he was going to pay for what he did to you.

She kneels down to your lifeless body, holding your ice cold hand as she injects the syringe, watching as it takes your blood.

She rubs her thumb against the back of your hand. "Don't worry, I won't let go. I know how much you hate needles, honey." She whispers to you, smiling innocently down at your body. "Shh..." She takes out the syringe, now full of your blood. "Its okay. I'm going to make that mean boy pay."

She smiled in satisfaction to herself, holding the tube of your blood in her hands. "I've always wanted to taste your blood, sweetie." She says.

Toga bites into the tube, sucking the blood out of it. The liquid fills her mouth, the taste of iron spreading on her tongue. Her features become more like you, her hair fading into your hair color and her eyes becoming as soft as yours.

She pats her cheek, looking down at you. "Look, see, Y/N?" She beams. "We match now!"

Toga looks towards the way Izuku Midoriya walked off, seeing him in the distance, his body getting smaller and smaller as he walked further away.

Toga grinned to herself. She always wanted to try your Piercing Blood move. Izuku was the perfect target.

[sergeantsporks]

WATCHING AND DREAMING SPOILERS

Writing request: Luz tells everybody about what she saw in the Realm In Between. Including the weird Hooty in the Titan’s eye. They spend a while questioning and investigating Hooty’s origins, increasingly confused and terrified.

Gus held an illusion microphone to Luz’s face. “Did she look like King?”

“A lot, yeah.”

“Was he as big as the Isles?”

Luz tilted one hand back and forth. “At the end? She was bones, huge when she disappeared. But when I was talking to him… you know what, how about I just draw him for you?”

King’s tail wagged back and forth. “Yes!”

Luz sketched a pear, adding limbs and claws and… she paused halfway through drawing Papa Titan’s face. One of his eyes… “Hey, Hooty? You, uh…. You wouldn’t know anything about… Look, one of her eyes was missing and had a… well, a you dangling out of it. Do you know why?”

“Of course I do, hoot. That’s where I was born.” Hooty bobbed up and down. “Why do you ask?”

King grabbed Hooty’s face in his hands. “Hooty. Hooty. You’re telling me that you lived in the titan’s eyeball, and you didn’t realize I was a titan?!”

“How would I know that? I didn’t live in your eyeball. Geeeze.”

Luz pinched her nose. This was going to be a frustrating conversation, wasn’t it? “Hooty. If you lived in the Titan’s eyeball… why did you leave? How did you get here?”

“Oh.” For a creature without shoulders, Hooty was incredibly good at shrugging. “Evelyn felt bad about taking the eye for her portal door, and offered me a place to stay at her house. Or in her house? I picked in her house.”

Willow’s jaw dropped, and she glanced at Hunter. “Wait, Evelyn? Like, from the brothers Wittebane story in Gravesfield Evelyn? You knew her?”

“Told Gus all about it in our interview!”

Everyone twisted around to look at Gus.

“What?” he demanded, “I stopped listening five minutes in. Have you heard him ramble? He told me every single thing he’s had for breakfast since he spawned! Do you know how many times I heard the phrase ‘and then I ate a bug?!’ Too many times, Luz. Too. Many. Times.”

“Okay,” Luz said slowly, “Hooty, explain. Start at the beginning.”

“Don’t say that,” Gus told her in a strangled whisper, “Luz, what have you done?”

“Well, it all started the day I hatched inside of the titan’s eyeball,” Hooty began, apparently oblivious to Gus’ distress, “I don’t remember it! Not a single thing! But I remember crawling around in the titan’s eye.”

King looked like he might be sick. “Doing… what?”

“Eating it, of course! But then maggots started spawning, so I ate those, and that’s when I realized how tasty bugs were!”

“But… you’re a bug demon, aren’t you?” Hunter asked tentatively, “Isn’t it… weird… to eat bugs?”

Hooty stared at Hunter for a long, long moment, his eyes narrowing as he considered what Hunter said. Hunter shifted nervously, but then Hooty’s eyes popped back open. “Nope!”

“The titan,” Luz pressed, “You were living in his eyeball, eating maggots, and then…”

“There was a great squelching noise, and the eyeball was ripped away! A great flood of light shone through, and I was left hanging out of the socket.”

“And then?” Luz asked again.

“Then I found out just how many bugs there were in the world. Bugs everywhere! Buzzing all around! Grown-up maggot flies, beetles, worms—”

Luz had gotten used to Hooty—or so she thought. Every so often, he’d casually reveal some extra horrifying feature of his, and she’d be left in the lurch again. As far as the way he talked, she was usually confident she could handle it. But right now, she wanted to shake him until all the answers fell out.

“Evelyn,” she interrupted, “She took out the eyeball?”

“Yep! She said she was very sorry, but she needed it for her door, and then asked if maybe I’d like to come along, and I said will there be bugs, and she said more than you can eat, which I said wasn’t likely since I’m miles of empty tube, and she laughed, and I followed her home. And she dug a burrow for me, and I jumped in, but then I found the wood of the house. And there were termites! So I ate them, and burrowed into the house. Boy was she surprised when I stuck my head out the door.”

“And—the portal?”

“You mean Eda’s portal?”

“Yes—did Evelyn build it?”

“I don’t know. I was busy. No bugs were getting in on my watch. I ate a beetle, then a fire bee, then a worm, and then a fly, and then another fly, and another fly, and then I ate Evelyn’s kid, because I thought she was a large fairy, but Evelyn made me spit her back up. And then I ate another beetle, and an ACTUAL fairy, and—”

Gus pressed pillows against his ears. “I warned you! Make him stop!

“—and then I ate a really big beetle that was all shiny gold and white when it came to bother Evelyn—”

Hunter coughed. “Is he talking about Belos?”

“—but I spit it back up because it was the wrong kind of slimy inside, and it scurried off, and I never saw it again! And then I ate a whole nest of fire bees, and a—”

Luz held her hands up in a T. “I’m sorry, timeout, Hooty, go back, you ate Evelyn’s kid? And also maybe Belos?!”

“I was eating bugs and finding out what wasn’t bugs.” Hooty arched his neck, as if trying to appear dignified. “Lulu says I have an inquisitive mind.”

“You’ve got an inquisitive stomach, at least,” Gus muttered.

“So… about Evelyn…”

“Not a bug.”

“Right, but the portal, Belos—”

“Also not bugs.”

Luz almost growled. “Okay, but the house—”

“Not a bug.” Hooty tilted his head to the side. “Waaaait… if I’m a bug… and I’m the house… have I failed? Is the enemy within? Can I eat the house? Will it end, or will I become an endless ouroboros, the bird tube eating its own house?”

Luz blinked. “Uh…”

“Well! Much to think about! Bye, Luz!”

Hooty snaked out of the room, returning to his place in the door. Luz groaned, putting her head in her hands. “Why do I feel like I know less than when we started?”

Gus patted her shoulder, nodding solemnly. “The Hooty effect, Luz. Welcome to the club.”

[becauseplot]

It's over. It's done. It's over.

Forever is sobbing when Phil, Cellbit, and Bad walk back into to the room.

It's a desperate tangle of English and Portuguese that's spilling from his lips, nigh unintelligible. As the three of them make their way around the cell, Phil starts to desipher the words: "--faça parar! Faça parar! Please stop, please stop, PLEASE! Faça parar, por favor! Por favor...!"

Forever is curled up in the corner of his cell, face hidden in his hands, crying out for anyone, anyone to help him.

Phil swallows. Breathes.

He takes a step back and lets Cellbit step forward, taking up the view of the window. Cellbit starts to speak in Portuguese to Forever as Forever continues to wail, shrinking away from Cellbit and shaking something fierce. Cellbit asks Bad to remove the glass pane and Bad does so in a heartbeat.

"Olha para mim," Cellbit says with a voice that's firm and raw but not unkind. He takes a deep breath, feline tail swishing about his ankles, and holds a bar of the cell for support as he leans in closer. "Olha para mim, Forever. Abre os olhos. Por favor."

A few seconds pass. Forever's sobs wither out into wheezing breaths, and his trembling hands slide down his face. Bloodshot eyes peer up at Cellbit. Terrified. Confused.

And Cellbit begins to talk. Phil barely understands a word of it, but Cellbit is calm and clear in his speech. He holds up the syringe for Forever to see, pointing to its contents, and he talks Forever down when he starts begging again. Bad, meanwhile, kneels down behind Forever. He doesn't say anything, but he places a feather-light hand on Forever's back through the bars, oh so gentle and wary of his claws.

And Phil? Phil stands off to the side. He gives the two of them plenty of room, refusing to crowd Forever and send him into another fit of panic; but his shield is still strapped to his arm, and his axe still hangs in his hand at his side.

He won't hurt Forever. God, no, he won't hurt Forever, but Phil---Phil needs something to hold onto right now.

At last, Cellbit reaches through the large gap in the bars, holding out the syringe in an open hand. Forever sits and stares at it, throat bobbing in half-aborted sounds of doubt. He doesn't move to take it.

Phil shifts his wings. They'll hold him down and administer the antidote themselves if they have to, but no one here wants to force it on him. He's been through enough.

Thankfully, Forever finally uncurls himself from his corner just long enough to take the syringe. His fingers tremble around it so badly that Phil is afraid he'll drop it and the tube will shatter on the floor, spilling the precious medication, but he doesn't. He takes syringe and jabs it through the pearl-white fabric of his sleeve and into the meat of his arm and sinks the plunger.

Silence.

And then Forever howls. The sound rips out of him, head tipped back and tears spilling over his cheeks and jaw open wide, wide like someone reached down into his esophagus and tore his insides up and out through his mouth.

Cellbit squeezes his eyes shut and ducks away, ears pinned back. Bad knocks his forehead against the cold metal bars and makes a quiet, pained noise. Phil closes his eyes and puts a hand over his mouth and curls his wings around himself and leans on his axe because oh god, he feels like he's going to be sick.

The cry tapers off. Phil hears Cellbit hurry away and start talking to Pac on the other side of the room. Bad mutters something about the inventory scanners. Phil opens his eyes and sees Forever slumped in the corner of his cell, eyes glassy and chest rattling with every inhale. His hand lay at his side, the syringe held limply between his twitching fingers.

Phil approaches the cell and braces a hand on one of the bars. "Forever," he says. Forever doesn't so much as twitch. "Forever, can you hear me?"

Forever's gaze drags itself from the middle distance over to Phil. He blinks. His eyes flutter shut, and he sags back against the bars completely, a heap of limbs.

Phil stands there. Rubs a hand over his mouth. In the distance, there is the sound of soft, gentle Portuguese undercut by anxious mutterings. The click-clack of an inventory scanner being disarmed echoes off the walls. There's an outcry, raw and guttural. Forever's cell is dismantled with a thunk of a universal block breaker. Weeping reaches Phil's ears, muffled by an embrace, soothed by hushed reassurances.

And Forever lies sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed. Unmoving. Phil, for that matter, can't bring himself to move either. He stands, and he stares, and he breathes, and he watches Forever breathing.

"Is he okay?"

Phil jolts. He looks away from Forever to look up at Cellbit. The man's eyes are red, his mouth drawn tight.

Phil shrugs. It's barely more than a shift of his shoulders; it's all he can manage. "I don't know. I think he passed out."

Cellbit nods. "Okay. Okay." He exhales and drags his hands down his face with a shudder. "Jesus Christ, man..."

Yeah. Yeah, that just about sums it up.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Comforting Tara at the hospital after getting attacked in the opening scene

my taglists are here (I added one for SCREAM) + you can requests here at any time

—

When you arrived at the Carpenter residence, a hoard of police cars were parked in front of the property and an ambulance was pulling out of the driveway with its siren screaming and flashing.

Mrs. Carpenter was at a conference in London and Sam had moved god knows where outside of town. That left...Tara. Worry began to set in your stomach and you reached for your phone to call Tara, which kept ringing.

‘’Pick up, pick up,’’ you prayed into the phone, needing to hear her voice to confirm she was not in the ambulance.

One of the officers saw you on the grass and came up to you. ‘’Excuse me, Miss, you can't be here,’’ he informed you as red and blue lights were flashing all around.

You put your phone down. ‘’My girlfriend Tara, this is her house. We were supposed to have a movie night—’’

Before you, the officer’s face changed and tears filled your eyes.

Tara was the only thing on your mind as you drove to Woodsborrow’s hospital, breaking a few driving code rules on the way. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to see her until a few hours after she was admitted.

One of the nurses informed you that she was getting surgery, but that she would be okay.

When you finally entered her room, your eyes found Tara's small frame in the bed and another rush of tears filled your eyes. Her face was on the pale side, her hair was tied into a messy ponytail, tubes were inserted in her nose to help her breathe and her right arm was bandaged. One of her left was broken too.

Whoever had attacked Tara had gotten her good.

‘’Tara.’’ Her name slipped from your lips in a barely there broken whisper.

Tara’s head turned in your direction and her face crumpled and she broke into sobs. They had given her strong medications for the pain and post-traumatic shock, but they hadn’t fully kicked in yet.

You rushed to her side, your heart breaking more.

‘’I was so scared,’’ she said through sobs, shaking as you pulled her in a careful hug. Her non-bandaged hand gripped the back of your sweatshirt, needing to anchor herself to something comforting and real, still shaken up and terrified. ‘’I thought someone was pulling a prank, but it wasn’t. Someone was in my house and stabbed me and I…I thought I was going to die.’’

You held her a little tighter and pressed a kiss to her temple. ‘’It’s over. You’re safe, now.’’

‘’I thought something was gonna happen to you too.’’ A cough ripped through her, her throat raw from all the screamings.

You looked around the room for water and found a cup on the table. ‘’Drink a little.’’

Tara took the cup with shaky hands and brought it to her lips, letting the cool water run down her parched throat. She took a few sips, then handed it back to you.

You tuck her hair behind her ear. ‘’I’m okay. We’re both safe, okay?’’ She nodded and settled into her pillows, the medications starting to work. ‘’We'll talk tomorrow. Go to sleep, you need rest.’’

Tara grabbed your hand. ‘’Can you stay? Please.’’ Her eyes were heavy, close to falling asleep.

A soft smile curled on your lips. You nodded. ‘’I’m not leaving your side.’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade

[derekwriteskink]

The ideal submissive

Sam had been fantasising about being another sub, the man in question was in a grey leather uniform and he had black leather knee high boots on, along with black leather gloves. Sam envied the man’s confidence,his charming voice,his dashingly handsome face and above all his life. He had watched everything on the man’s instagram page and the thought of being him was amazing. Sam continued to think about being the man while he fell asleep. When Sam awoke he saw the man that he fantasised about staring at him, he tried to move but his body was completely incased from the neck down in an inescapable leather bondage sack. The man sat down next to him and opened a black suitcase, he pulled out an electric head shaver and began to shave his head, he showed Sam his reflection and he noticed that they now had the exact same hair length, the man then shaved Sam’s beard and left his moustache. Sam was again shown how he looked, he now had the same moustache as the man. The man placed his hand firmly on Sam’s throat and instructed him to speak, when he spoke his voice sounded exactly like the man’s. Sam was excited as the man pulled off the restraints and he placed his hand on Sam’s cock, he grew in length as the man caressed him, he then let go and applied ice to Sam’s cock, he became flaccid and he was then locked securely in Chasity, the man instructed him to stand up and then he promptly began putting a matching grey uniform on Sam, it fit perfectly and Sam was beyond excited as the black leather boots were put on his feet, he eagerly obeyed as the man placed black leather gloves on him and then began to caress his face. Sam was shown his reflection and he saw that he looked exactly like the man, like a clone. Sam was excited, however his shock turned to fear when the man pulled a hood over his head and he slowly lost consciousness. When he awoke, the hood was removed and he watched in horror as he saw hundreds of identical men in the most extreme bondage scenarios. He heard a bizarre combination of terrifying screams and loud moans. He remained helpless in a full body leather suit until a man approached him and attached a lead to his collar. Sam was restrained to a rimming chair. His cock was unzipped and put into a milking machine, his butt zipper was opened and a large tube was inserted, he moaned loudly, his nipples were unzipped and pinched tightly by metal clamps. A large tube was forced down his mouth and down his neck. He was helpless as the tube was held firmly in place by the mouth hole in his leather hood. Liquid food was flowing through the tube and he had no choice but to consume it. It continued running down his throat, he struggled to breathe, two rubber tubes were pushed deeply into his nostrils and attached to a device that forced him to breathe on command. After what felt like forever, the food stopped flowing and the tube was removed. The man forced his hands into his mouth and forcefully cleaned it thoroughly. A giant gag was shoved into his mouth and his mouth zipper was closed. The milking machine continued to furiously stimulate his cock until he reached orgasm. The milking stopped and the device was removed from his cock and then replaced by a large cube that went into his penis and a chastity cage that wrapped securely around both his cock and the tube. A leather blind fold was placed onto him and he was left in darkness, after a while he felt the food from before leaving his body through the butt tube and was completely disgusted when he realised the tube’s purpose, he felt his butt being sprayed down thoroughly and wiped as he was unable to object to this dehumanisation. His gag was removed and he was forced to drink large quantities of water before he was gagged again. He needed to pee and it was removed automatically through the tube. Sam was terrified and aroused as he realised that he had no way out of his situation, this was his new life.