#maybe ive lost taste

[britneyshakespeare]

I think everyone wants to own a complete works of Shakespeare and I want to get everyone a complete works of Shakespeare that is right for them

[nobodywritingao3]

shameful company was going to get vaguely dark in the later chapters. I'd been really looking forward to it

I had been setting up in chapter 6 an account of Phil and Wilbur's time after they got closer. It was the last few months they saw each other where they noticed things going wrong around them. Phil had plans to take Wilbur and leave the forest altogether but hadn't shared this with him. Wilbur realized something was changing and assumed the worst but never asked. Random forest fires keep almost killing Phil. Eventually there's a fire inside their home and Phil is [thiiiis] close to death so he takes the incantation off Wilbur. Wilbur has the power then to save him, so he does, and Phil, realizing that Wilbur can fend for himself for a little while leaves him there for a few hours intending to bring back Technoblade so they can move immediately. He doesn't explain this very thoroughly and ends up never coming back, leaving Wilbur to assume the worst

Back in present time I was going to show Wilbur getting weird and a little possessive as time progresses. I was going to stage an incident where Tommy mentions going back to the village for something and queuing Wilbur's abandonment issues. I wanted to set up a progression/montage of Wilbur's slow deterioration as he gets closer to Tommy, and his fear of driving him away only growing and getting in the way of that. I wanted to finish the chapter with a fight and Tommy returning to the village only to get captured and set up for execution.

the next chapter would feature Wilbur wreaking havoc on the village and eating a lot of it. hed take Tommy back and nurture him back to health, promising to take good care of him. he'd stay exclusively human and small for this. theyd get close again. when Tommy was healed up enough, he'd ask to leave the cave. he would ask for space and to think about what had happened. in his mind, everything was fine. Wilbur would flip his lid, remembering Phil and (perceived) empty promises. he'd start off begging Tommy to stay, promising that he would stay good and human and reminding him of how happy and close they were as brothers. tommy would gently push back and Wilbur would escalate to tears and panic. tommy would relent, realizing that Wilbur was doing pretty awfully emotionally, but it would be too late by now. anything he'd say would only be perceived as a lie. Wilbur would rage and keep him hostage. He would grow back into his giant naga form and keep Tommy trapped in the cave

the next chapter was going to be bleak and gloomy. it would show the deterioration of their relationship as well as Wilbur in general. Wilbur would have reverted back to sweet, desperate, and nurturing, trying to convince Tommy to stay. he would be very pathetic in this chapter. Tommy would be freaked out a lot. I'd probably add a nom scene. tommy would be pushed to his limits.

the final chapter I was going to have dream come back. there would be hints thrown here and there about his true nature. he would reveal himself as a serpent as well and keep tommy trapped with him as a means to lure out Wilbur for revenge. dream had worked out a way to keep a steady supply of prey that wilbur had kind of ruined with his murderous killing. I thought it would be funny if the murder weapon of choice for my characters was a pistol. when Wilbur arrived I would have dream reveal that he had driven Phil away and cast a spell to make the forest unreachable to him again. there would be other hurts he had caused over the years and Wilbur would realize how much of his life and been controlled at a distance and he would be pushed to the edge. dream would attack him then and badly hurt him, given that wilbur would not be fighting back. dream would give Tommy the gun for fhe killing shot. he'd list all of Wilbur's mistakes and tommy would accept the pistol and play along. wilbur would be a broken wreck. I planned to add so much pain to this scene it was ridiculous. Tommy would shoot dream in the face. hurt comfort scene. many tears. Tommy would nurse Wilbur back to health.

for the epilogue Phil would return with technoblade. there was going to be a small sweet scene for that. apologies and crying. and then a tommy introduction.

[mistyycowoa]

Guys. Have y'all ever had onion soup? Because I need to talk about it.

Onion soup is epic. Onions themselves are epic. They taste good fried/caramelized and it's so good. It pairs well with ANYTHING. And sometimes raw onions also just pack that punch you need in certain dishes and it's so good.

And then you're telling me it was put in SOUP??

LIKE HAVE YOU SEEN THIS SHIT????

It's food heaven imo.

It's onions(one of the few foods that go good with everything and can be eaten at any time) in BROTH with all the other good stuff AND it's french(idk why I put that but french food has the impression of being fancy to me) AND it's paired with cheese and goes epic with baguette slices.

Onion soup is epic

I rest my case

[midday-clouds]

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》 III

Part I Part II Part IV

Took me so long to figure out how the rest of the story could go XP Also, I've seen how some of y'all want the reader to become a vigilante/villain :) It is definitely possible but not with the current story idea I have in mind. Maybe one day, I'll make a side story where the reader becomes a vigilante/villain

CW: Violence (Bar Fight), Stalking, Blood, "Death"

It has been a few weeks since you moved into Bludhaven and Nightwing being your nighttime companion

He always comes over to your apartment with a couple of injuries and asks to stay a bit

With Nightwing’s instructions, you learn to bandage injuries to help the hero

Maybe it’s because your mental wounds from your neglectful family are still fresh, but Nightwing quickly started to grow on you.

It just feels nice to have a friend while adjusting to your new life.

It also could be because he actually came to the rescue when you were attacked

This does make you wonder why Batman didn’t save you in Gotham but who knows what that big guy does.

Another thing you wonder about sometimes is who Nightwing is.

You were never really curious about the vigilantes in Gotham, even though four well-known vigilantes resided there.

Ever since you met Nightwing, you tried doing some research on him but you immediately stopped when you saw the words “Richard Grayson” in an article.

While the batfamily would be more than happy to stay in Bluvenon so they can meet you, Gotham needed them. (Also they may overwhelm you)

Because of this, the family (except Dick and Jason) return home where more plans are made.

Jason decided that he will be the next person you meet and he won’t take no for an answer.

There is one problem though, you’ve seen Jason with his Red Hood attire

You may not have connected the dots at the time but you definitely will when you see him again.

After debating with Dick, Jason finally agrees to primarily watch you from a distance

In an attempt to meet more people, you decided to participate in some summer events that your college was hosting

You make a couple of friends and go out together

College classes are just around the corner and your friends suggested going out to a bar

This is a special moment so you decide to go with them

You all made plans on the designated driver and kept an eye out for your drinks

When you go to the bar, it's almost sunset.

This is your first time drinking but you trust your friends to keep you safe. (You ended up hating the taste)

Unknown to you, Jason is watching you from outside of the bar

If it was Dick’s turn to watch over you, he’d drag you back to your apartment.

Jason just allows you to have your fun time with friends, getting lost in how happy and innocent you seem.

This all crashes down when a fight suddenly happens right next to you

You and your friends try to get away from the scene but you're suddenly knocked to the ground

A drunk person slams a glass of alcohol next to you, probably mistaking you for someone else, which gives you a ton of small cuts.

Jason quickly puts on his mask and breaks into the bar. He beats up any drunk person who tries to stop him from reaching you.

Your sober friend tries to pull you away from the fight but is worried about all of your cuts

Red Hood suddenly appears to drag you and your friend away from the fight.

The fight gets worse and some random person seems to have called the ambulance

When the ambulance arrives, your sober friend hands you over to them and Red Hood disappears

You’re given a few bandages before the medic has to focus on another injured individual

In your dizzy state, you manage to slip away to stop the ringing in your ears

Something in you also told you it wasn’t safe to go to the hospital

Walking through an alley, your bandages seem to loosen and you eventually collapse on the ground from blood loss

Red Hood steps away for a second and you suddenly disappear.

He didn't want to be seen by the ambulance so he got onto a nearby rooftop to update Nightwing on the situation.

At least you didn't get far but the blood pooling under you slowly grows. This would be the second time you died

Nightwing appears and finds you wrapped up in a jacket while Red Hood picks you up off the ground.

One of the walls of the alley seems to have gotten a hole from Red Hood punching it out of frustration

Getting closer, Nightwing can see that you were given fresh bandages before being wrapped up in Red Hood’s jacket.

Also, you’re still breathing!

Seeing that you may still be alive, you’re taken to Nightwing’s apartment

Red Hood places you on the bed while Nightwing contacts Batman.

After one final look over and a blanket thrown over your body, Red Hood joins Nightwing in the living room

You slowly wake up in an unknown room and immediately sit up

The first thing you notice is how dark the room is

Squinting a bit, you find a lamp on the nightstand and turn it on

You find yourself in a bedroom with a blue and black color palette

There’s a desk in front of the bed with two computer monitors

You turn on the computer to see the date and immediately recognize a name

Richard Grayson

The name is enough to fill you with annoyance but you try to stay focused

How did you get here? Are you back in Gotham? Back at the manor?

You go to the bedroom door to find a living room instead of a hallway

Maybe you were still in Bludhaven?

This room definitely looks like it belongs to Dick

You never found his room in the manor but you did learn about some of his interests when you tried to befriend him (Alfred had to tell you all this)

As you finish snooping around the bedroom, a sound from the other room makes you freeze up

You quickly turn the light off, lay back on the bed, close your eyes and pretend to be sleeping

There are some voices in the living room but it's hard to hear past the sound of your racing heartbeat

Your heart almost stops when you hear the bedroom door open and the voices get louder.

At least you can actually understand what they’re saying now

They mention Batman, Robin, Demon Spawn, and other things you don't understand.

Maybe this was Dick and his friend talking about vigilantes? Though…one of them sounds familiar….

Your train of thought is cut off by someone putting their wait on the bed and running their hand through your hair

To distract yourself, you try to recognize the voice the best you can. Could it be Nightwing? Does Dick know him?

A kiss is placed on your forehead before the two people leave the bedroom.

After waiting a couple of moments, you open your eyes and confirm that you’re alone.

You slowly slip out of bed to try to listen to hear more of their conversation.

It seems that they called someone because there are new voices but it isn't that clear

The conversation begins to scare you as they talk about you.

Calling you their sibling/daughter and status on how your injuries were healing

Based on what is being said, you figure out that five vigilantes know quite a bit about you…

Deciding that you’ve had enough, you find a way to sneak out of the apartment

Looking out the window, it looks like you're a few floors high.

You carefully open the window as quietly as you can and peek outside to find a fire escape just one window away

You must be lucky because you reach the stairs safely and immediately start going down the stairs

The sun is about to rise and you realize that you don't know where you are

You run around for an unknown amount of time before finding a bus stop

There isn't any money on you so you just pick up a map for the bus route

Looking over the map, you’re able to find a familiar street before finally making it home

It took you a long time to get a new key because you basically had nothing on you but eventually, you were able to finally collapse on your bed

You fall asleep immediately

By the time you wake up, it is night again

Getting up, you start making yourself some food while some research on vigilantes

Focused on finding answers, you’re able to connect the dots on who the vigilantes are based on your information from when you lived in the manor

At some point, a knock is heard from your window

On instinct, you walk over to your window and open your curtains

Seeing Nightwing and his dumb smile fills you with rage. Which you are more than happy to let him know

You close your curtain and can faintly hear Nightwing trying to talk to you from the other side of the window

Well, it seems that you now know their identity

Jason saw and heard you run off. He and Dick were about to follow but Bruce told them to not follow you

The next night, Jason watch you reject Dick as he tried to pretend last night didn’t even happen

But it seems you weren’t having any of it

Dick returns to Jason, dejected

A new plan would have to be made, and Tim knows exactly how to get back on track

[moonstruckme]

heyy i absolutely love your writing and i wanted to ask if you could write something for remus?? <3 I’m having a surgery soon and i’m a bit nervous about it so if you feel like it, could it maybe be about reader having surgery and remus calms her beforehand or takes care of her after? thank you so much for sharing your amazing work with us, ly!!!! <3

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!

cw: hospital, reader is a bit out of it due to anesthesia

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 907 words

Remus doesn’t think you belong in hospitals. You don’t look like yourself, all swathed in white. White sheets and a white gown and white fluorescent lights that make your skin look paler than usual and thin as paper. He’s been rubbing the back of your hand absentmindedly as he waits for you to wake up. It feels stupid, comforting you while you can’t feel it, but when your eyelids twitch he’s glad he is. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says softly. Your eyes find him, sleepy and unfocussed. “Glad to have you back with me.” 

There’s a tiny divot between your brows as you survey the room. “Did I do it?” you croak.

“Yeah.” The word leaves Remus in a laugh, and he can’t help reaching forward to brush a piece of hair away from your face. When you lean into the touch, his heart splinters. Something about seeing you like this makes him want to swaddle you in blankets and spoon-feed you soup and kisses for the rest of eternity. “Yeah, baby, you did it. You’re all done.” 

“M’glad,” you sigh. “I told them I wanted to bring you, and they wouldn’t let me.” 

“Yeah, I remember.” He grins, recalling your doped-up argument with the nurse. The cute pout that had stayed on your face throughout. “I was there.” 

“Mm.” You hum as though vaguely recollecting his presence, though Remus had been the one to finally get you to calm down and go on without him. 

Your gaze fogs over, and for a long time you stare at nothing, features relaxing. Remus is content to let it happen. He’s never minded sitting with you like this, both of you lost in your own thoughts and the love between you humming and incandescent in the air nonetheless. He’s watching the slow drooping of your eyelids, wondering if you might fall back asleep, when suddenly you perk up. 

“Rem—Remus.” You sit up, reaching for him. 

“What?” You’re pulling your IV. He stands from his chair and leans over you to grasp your forearm, pinning you as gently as he can to the bed. “What is it?” 

“You haven’t kissed me hello.”

Remus can’t be held accountable for whatever passes over his face in that moment. He’s too surprised, and you’re too cute. It’s unbelievable. 

“Well, it’s not really a hello,” he reasons. “We’ve both been here the whole time, love.” 

You scrunch your face up as though you’ve tasted something sour. “Don’t play mind games with me. I almost just died.” 

Remus is fairly sure you’d come nowhere close, but he doesn’t feel much like arguing. He bends over you carefully, pecking you on the lips. Your lips are warm and a bit chapped. He makes a mental note to dig your chapstick out of your bag a bit later.

When he pulls away, you’re frowning. It doesn’t do wonders for a man’s ego. 

“That wasn’t a real kiss,” you complain.

He chuckles. “We’ll have more kisses when we get you home, okay? There are people around.” 

You glance towards the door. “There’s no one here right now,” you say, as if there aren’t doctors and nurses passing by every five seconds. “Just a quick one. I really missed you.” 

Remus glances towards the door, too. It’s a bit public for his taste (and usually, for yours), but he can never really say no to you when you’re being all sweet and earnest like this. He sits on the bed this time, heedful of any wires or tubes, and melds his lips to yours slowly. You take his face in your hand, your mouth pushing with almost too much force. Remus pushes back, but tries to slow you down with a hand on your shoulder. Soothing. You whine. 

He pulls away quickly, thinking he’s hurt you, but you don’t let him get far. You’re clutching the material of his shirt like a lifeline. 

Your eyes are wet. 

“What is it?” Remus asks, panicking. 

Your eyebrows bunch, pulling upwards in the middle. It’s a crumpling. “I love you,” you say, “so much.” 

“Sweetheart.” Your crying makes him want to cry, but Remus does his best to laugh through it, hoping to get you out of this mood before you’re fully in it. He kisses the first tear as it falls. “I love you too. That’s nothing to get upset about.” 

You shake your head, sniffling. “It’s too much. I love you so much it hurts.” 

“I know what you mean, darling.” 

“You do?” 

“Of course I do. If I let myself think about it too much, I’d never stop crying. You’re a real burden to me, you know that?” 

To Remus’ relief, you laugh. Wetly, but still. “Especially when I almost die, I bet.” 

“You know you didn’t actually almost die, right?” He narrows his eyes at you. “I feel like it’s important that you know that.” 

You only blink at him, befuddled. 

Remus nods slowly. “I guess someone will be wanting to know you’re awake,” he says. “I’m going to go find a nurse.” 

He stands, but you hold fast to his shirt. “Wait,” you plead. 

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Hm?” 

“One more kiss.” 

“I think you’ve had enough.” 

“One for the road. Please.” 

Remus shakes his head, grinning. “You’d never consent to this much PDA if you weren’t so loopy right now, you know.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “Back in a minute, love.”

[aluciahaz]

may i just say that your character writing is AMAZING! i honestly don’t check up on your blog a lot but when i do i’m left SHAKING because your shit is soooo hot.

Anyways i humbly come requesting mommy kink with vox because you know i’m all about that. he’s so desperate for validation and scared of rejection i feel like he’d be weeping at a domme mommy type reader. Anyways, do what you want with this!

once again i love your work! sincerely, bimbo <3

oh my god it's one of my favorite writers on tumblr🦅 thank you so much for the compliment it means a lot 😭 also i loved writing this ive desperately needed more vox asks! hope you enjoy! (kinda went ham on metaphors 💀 mb)

greed never stops

—vox x f!reader

—includes: overstim, tons of crying, begging, light bondage

vox was a walking, living(?) juxtaposition.

he’ll go barking orders to his subordinates, control most situations with smooth, quick thinking, and command his business with an iron fist.

but with you, the other side of his screen is on full display. his vulnerable, attention-desperate, failure-fearful self. you’ve seen it enough times to notice how it seeps into his daily life. how his control is really just a mechanism to take hold of his vulnerability, hiding it behind a mess of steel wires to make anyone who would try and reach it get tangled in its grasp.

but the moments he lets you untangle his facade, allowing you to see his true self, he feels free. even if most of the time it was during more intimate moments in the night. it was where he could truly indulge in his unfamiliar desires, crying and begging for the validation he was always seeking.

and you were the one he needed it from.

your praise was one of the highest in the hierarchy of compliments, making him feel like he was burning up, frying his brain in a way that made him feel like he’s short-circuited, but the feeling of fuzziness was intoxicating. he could never give up the taste of your compliments.

“come on, aren’t you a good boy? you can hold out for a little longer.”

those words were like rich liquor, and vox was an eager drinker. it swirled his thoughts into a never-ending spiral, and he could only cry in response as you touched his face with a gentleness that rivals an angel’s.

“b-but, mommy—!” he sobs as your fingers drive into him for what seems the thousandth time, his voice module starting to struggle as he tries to speak.

“oh?” you raise your eyebrow, feigning shock before narrowing your eyes, pressing him further down the sheets in disdain. is he still being ungrateful?

“but what, huh? don’t tell me you need more already! you’re such a greedy fucking slut,” you spit out, watching his eyes shoot open from the whiplash of your cruel words. “maybe i should stop—,”

“NO! nono, please! no! i’m sorry—!” he keens as your fingers slowly start to slip out of him, the sound so indecent it makes him shiver.

he pushes his hips up into your hand, trying to follow them only for your other hand to shove his hips back down on the sheets, your fingers twisting nearly all the way out before ramming back in, curling in wickedly that seems to shut him up briefly as he catches a breath that ran away.

vox weeps, unable to do anything else as his claws rip into the mattress, his legs shake and tremble as though they weren’t practically crushing you before. he seems so fragile at this moment, yet you knew he could take much more.

he just didn’t deserve it.

he whines and screams at your touch, tears starting to fall down his pretty little face as the small amount of dignity he had seems to get lost, overrun by your torturous fingers and unyielding pleasure that shoots through his body like a current.

“mommy—ha—please jus—zz—t fuck me, oh, god!” his head drops back down onto the pillows as your fingers wrap around his weeping cock, making his back arch as he sobs out noncoherent pleads. it’s beautifully pathetic.

his legs, weak and feeble, were strewn across the bed with previous markings trailing up his inner thigh, his neck even more decorated with a necklace of red, the glimmer of sweat that covers his whole body making those bites shine similar to crude rubies.

his hands, now tied with his own wires behind the bed (he charges there before he goes to sleep) were sullied with crimson from the tightness of the metal around his wrist, but not as bright crimson as his eyes, which flashed with bright red hearts intermittently. it was always a pleasant surprise, and a sign that he fucking loved this. no matter how much he complained at the start, his eyes spoke the truth.

which is why now, as you replace your fingers with his favorite strap, you know he’s absolutely overjoyed as those beating hearts seem to overtake his pupils once more, pulsating with a hypnotizing spiral.

“finally—! oh—zzz—FUCK!” his last word is practically inaudible with the airiness in his voice, his tone starting to distort, yet, your pace was slow. shallow, even. tears of frustration started to form at the ends of his eyes, his whines more pitiful as he tries to fuck himself back on your strap, only to be stopped by your sturdy grip on his hips.

“what do you say, vox?“ you asked, irritation slipping into your voice. how could he still be so ungrateful? but, he catches on fast, looking up at you with round, glossy eyes.

“thank you! thank—thank you, mommy!” he stumbles out before you switch up your pace instantly, brutally ramming into him just how he likes it. it makes him unable to fathom he could have been known to be anything but yours, surrendering his well-built persona to you. all of it, for your praise.

“such a good boy.”

those words were priceless, but he always ends up trying to buy them with obedience. and even though he’s successfully checked out with such praise, they still have the same effect on him every time.

he shudders and wails with ruined pitch, his screen flickering in and out of error messages and his lovely expression as he gets his reward. there was just something so satisfying about earning your praise.

sure, he can buy pretty much anything, and yes, he can get people to kneel at his feet, but he can’t cry without shame, or indulge in his true desires of being completely wrecked with soft words and fast hips with anyone. no, it could only be you. and even if he practically has everything under his hands, he will always be greedy for your affection, begging, screaming for a chance to have it set his whole body ablaze with its foreign warm feeling.

it makes him lost. no matter how much intelligence vox has, he always finds himself unable to search his way out of the feeling of pure lust overtaking his senses when you fuck him with abandon, his need to keep face seemingly never being there in the first place as tears make him short-circuit, and pleads for you to never stop. he doesn’t want to leave this labyrinth of carnality. he wants to stay lost in it forever.

it’s why even after he cums with a high-pitch sob so loud you thought his volume module broke, he kept weeping incoherently as the lights flicker in the room, his legs practically numb. and finally, he looks up at you, sniffling and choking on his words he’ll pretend to regret the next morning.

“m-more. please, mommy—! AH!” his whole body jolts as you heed his wishes, leaving him to fall back into the pleasure that he craves. he babbles on and on with thank yous and nonsensical sentences, the night seeming to become never-ending even with daybreak inching closer and closer.

vox is unable to speak at the end, and god does everything fucking hurt. his arms ache and his legs are definitely going to be an issue when he has to walk. there are marks all over his skin that will never see the light of day, yet be around for plenty of nights.

but you both know he’ll come back for more. his greed is an unquenchable thirst, and your praise is the only fountain that seems to satiate it, even if only for a little while.

(i totally didnt forget to tag)

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @mvskedxrtist @drlucichen @luciferspetduck

[patchiko]

what do u think ak!jays love language (i think that’s what it’s called 😭) is? also, what type of love language do you think he’d like?? like acts of service, words of affirmation, etc.

also random headcanon but i feel like both ak and comic jay r both good cooks it’s just the vibe i get

-🪽anon

Ahkendidhso Ive written about this before but my brainrot my lovely 🪽 anon…

tw; religious themes but their very very very super metaphorical i pinky swear chat. #i love religious themes as a way to metaphorically talk about devotion

Jason Todd is as devoted to his lover as a martyr to their grace. His faith to his loved one is almost insufferable at its core.

Like in a,’ My lungs only breathe because I have faith in your purity. ’ way, so anyways yeah Quality Time and Acts Of Service.

Quality Time- Jaaon can barely pry himself from your presence at times, and yet he does. Though every moment he’s away from you feels sardonic, like that viscous black ooze that he’s named ‘hate’ is getting bigger. Once he even gets a moment of your time his mind melts. He slowly allows himself to indulge in your presence, but in the most unhealthy way possible. Jason tried to keep himself away, he really did, but he always found his feet dragging to you.

Maybe its the little sacrificial lamb in him, the yearn for a greater good in his destruction. Thats what he believe he was conditioned to be, ’The Greater Good.’ Batman cleaned him from the dirt-stricken filth of Gotham alleyways; Batman would make his coat pure and holy, he learned to achieve that ‘Greater-Good’ when Batman wrapper that rope around his neck and lead him to that devil, or saint, he couldn’t tell the two apart sometimes. They both look the same as his depraved reflection.

When his red branded rebirth came he couldn’t help himself trotting to you like the holy little lamb he was conditioned to be. You, the only compass he had, a sense of direction he couldn’t bear to lose. He sits in your presence waiting for his rapture. When not, he’s stuck in a state where can’t tell if he’s more scared of being lost or alone. Jason finds he’s neither when with you, with you he’s stained red but his neck is no longer painfully warm, his body can be mangled, his mind can be mortal. He always trots back to you, because it is the first place he is welcomed to with open arms, yes, you are the warm light of the heavens he was conditioned to bask in. The personification where the death of his self is meant to be.

Acts Of Service - I believe this side of him comes more when its towards the part of the relationship where he’s most comfortable! He’ll run errands, do your dishes, maybe if the guilt of getting your floor a little bloodied gets to him he’ll pay your rent. It takes him awhile to loosen up and stop acting like a house maid. He still does everything he can for you but in an mundane way, like a little routine. (like a little wife omg chat i love him)

Whenever he slips through that window he takes armor off and sets them down on your floor. He’ll walk over to where you sit and kiss you on the cheek, whispering in your ear on how he ordered take out. He’ll come back to you with clean clothes and washed hair, sitting close to you, yet not closer if not allowed.

He’s much like a Saint Bernard now, for he always finds his way back to your side. A gentle giant, neither of you can keep yourselves away from each other; tenderly caring for each others needs. With you, he gave up on his divided sense of pride, his fundamentals and foundations that gave his name meaning were reckoned meaningless, he gave it up and swallowed the bitter pill of which he found the unsatisfactory taste of forgiveness; and with that pill he allowed himself to grieve.

He’s much like a Saint Bernard now, he can guide people to the place they believe to be heavens for their sake of peace. He holds someone in his arms the way they need to be held, he says those things that make someone think, leading them back to the path they left. But most of all he always comes running back to you.

sorry chat this is so bitter sweet i love his self destructive mentality that would take him decades to weed out.

[lexpupz]

warnings: pure filth, dom!bada, G!P BADA (sorry to all the g!p haters), facefucking, sweaty sex, very very lowkey dubcon, spitting (also just a tiny bit), facials, bdsm, slapping, bruises and overall marking, dacryphilia, bondage,

wordcount: 1.2k

a/n; just a little drabble to start out maybe? many people wont probably like it and if so, its okay. we all have our tastes. also i think ive gotten enough of these brainrotting and perverted ideas so maybe sweet little soft service top!bada next time.

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i dont care how smiley she always gets i did NOT come here to fuck around. may not be the girthiest cock ever but its soooo veiny and sosososoosooooo longgggg ARGHGHRHR. cant get enough of her clean-shaven balls like im ready to take it all at once no joke. bada is literally the epitome of a kink explorer. any new fetish she sees online or hears about from her friends can keep her awake all night thinking about all the ways she could use it. its hard to surprise her with your tastes cause shes seriously done it all.

when it comes to her favourites, ugghghhsh facefucking immediately comes to mind. coming home, absolutely drenched in sweat — im talking wet tshirt, bangs sticking to forehead, sweat slowly rolling down the side of her face, leaving a wet handprint on anything she touches, ugghsj you can quite literally smell her presence, all of the dirt mixing with her perfume and salty liquid all over her body. 😵‍💫😵‍💫 — dropping the duffel bag full of more dirty clothes somewhere in the middle of the room, she immediately sets off to find you. igdhh and when the smell hits your nose you already know whats up. and when i tell you bada stops caring about your wellbeing and makes you strip yourself off of all your self-respect when she gets horny... 😮‍💨. grabs the back of your neck and just pulls you off the couch, your knees hitting the ground rather roughly. no time for belts, just unzips her jeans and pulls it right out, and LORD the sound of the slap it makes when it hits your face. your brain wouldve probably blocked it all out if it wasnt for the precum oozing everywhere already and the smell of her sweaty cock thats been smothered by the thick fabric of her pants for hours on end now. both of your hazy gazes meeting eachother and oohhhhhdjd the way she squints while looking down at your lips before gently placing her thumb between your lips to spread them wide open, her length now resting somewhere on your chin. you really gotta appreciate how delicately shes treating you, knowing whats about to come. her sweaty palms lightly pressing into your jaw line, she pulls your head closer, planting the very tip of her cock right next to her thumb, which is now covered with the drool thats been mixing with her precum on your chin, slowly dripping down into your lap. no need to explain further, her sticky palms now forcing you by the back of your head, sliding her length down your throat. and when your nose hits her lower stomach, the groan that leaves her throat makes you impossibly wet. you know that trying to resist her wont help your situation so you just let it all happen, placing your own hands on the back of her knees purely for support. her thrusts are slow and short at first, hitting the back of your throat rather softly while she groans some inaudible mumbling from above (not that you would understand if she was talking clearly, already drowning in the sounds your mouth makes around her cock). and when she does finally speed up and her soft groans become rougher youre not even present anymore, lost in the sensation of the constant pounding in your throat. and when i said throatfucking i meant throatFUCKING — straight up using that mouth as a fleshlight. and instead of feeding you all that delicious cum, she insists on pulling out and sprays your whole face with the white liquid; ranging from the very base of your nose, running down your cheeks, also leaving a humble trail on your tongue just to continue more on your already wet chin. if it wasnt for you closing your eyes, you might have gone blind too with the thin coat painting your eyelids. all of her pretty liquids mixing with her sweat thats been occasionally dripping down on your face from her own chin. and finally, to finish it off, she blesses you with a few drops of her saliva, spitting them down your fucked out throat. she runs her slender fingers through your messed up hair leaning in to peck your forehead — the only part of your face left bare. she smiles fondly, giving both your face and her own length a few last strokes before leaving to finally wash up her sweaty body. making me think hard about toxic bada, leaving her poor baby all alone, dumbed down from all the dicking down, with no aftercare ://

and thats not where toxic bada ends because... 🙃. gotta go crazy for (maybe more than) slightly violent bada esjsjwonfrj. or maybe im just heavily deranged. but i mean... shes sooooo tall and soooooo strongggg. so maybe while the two of you are fucking she just, idk, accidentally knocks you down onto the ground. DBSJJSKAKFK seriously listen like the tight grip she has on your face while youre leaned over the kitchen island getting your guts rearranged. her other hand constantly traveling up and down your waist, while shes trying not to lose her own mind because of all the sweet sounds that are slipping past your lips —because of her baby is so so pretty being vocal and telling her just how good shes making her feel —, and then... oops 🫢 her hand leaves your cheek just to come back with a stinging sensation, leaving a pretty handprint in the process too 😵‍💫. youre barely realising what happened at first, too caught up in the pleasure, but when bada notices youre not protesting, or crying or looking up at her in pure bewilderment, she just does it again and again until... her last slap makes you yelp out loud, the strength of it forcing a few tears to glide down your red cheeks. i mean... she would probably cum just from the sight of that but... 😒. she ALWAYS has to have you marked up, whether its the stinging feeling on your ass whenever you sit down, the perplexed looks earned by all the love bites and hickeys, the purple bruises all over your knees also occasionally appearing on your back and thighs 🤩🤩,or ofcourse, as mentioned before, the red traces of her fingers and palms left on your cheeks.

bada is most definitely also a freak for bondage 😵‍💫😵‍💫. and im like straight up biting my hand rn ehshwhsgs. im talking ropes, tapes, handcuffs and all sorts of chains and stuff like that. sooooo into shibari its crazyyyyy hdjsjs. she would learn all these different patterns and styles just so you can look all pretty and tied up for her. it honestly makes her tummy twist and turn when she hears your mewls when shes kissing all over your chest, — her nose occasionally scratching the red bondage rope that she took so long tying around you because she just couldnt stop letting go of the rope in her hands to grab your hips grind them against her lap a few times more. — you cant do anything else but just quiver under her touch and hot breath. she cant stop calling you her 'pretty tight slut' making you twitch under her touch even more. AAARGRGHRH and when she sits you on her lap, holding both of your hands which are tied up at your back, as you grind against her length, riding her.

[xeungwannie]

lets just run

literally had to look up what the assistant for a princess was called for this lmao. apparently its lady in waiting or also a waiting maid but if thats wrong then blame google not me

princess!nayeon x lady in waiting!r (MATURE)

cw: fingering, nipple play

---

you tried taking in the slow moving creek in front of you wishing the week long trip you two took together for nayeons “exploration trip” would last forever. slowly forgetting that the crowned princess was still next to you, you got lost in your many thoughts of her upcoming marriage set to unite the two kingdoms of hers and her soon-to-be husband.

“whats got you thinking so deeply?”

snapping back into reality, you realized it’d be best to just take in the moment left you had with just the two of you before she would soon be occupied with someone else.

“nothing. i was just… thinking abo-”

“the wedding?” nayeon quickly cuts you off.

you nod, quickly feeling nayeons hand make its way to your cheek, caressing it lovingly.

“my love, ive told you many times before, if its with you by my side i’ll gladly leave behind this royal princess life to run away with you.”

“thats not right though nayeon AND id rather not take my chances of getting executed in front of everyone in town.” you say with a laugh pouring out from the both of you.

after a few hours passed, you now had nayeon resting her head on your shoulder while you continued to take in the scenery… and steal a little glimpse of her lips. feeling like you were slowly getting possessed by them, you started leaning in instinctively, stopping halfway after realizing it was time for you two to start heading back to the kingdom.

nayeons hand quickly grabs the back of your neck pulling you in, leaving you fully shocked but you obliged. pulling back from the kiss, her hands soon made their way to the back of your dress undoing the corset, quick to slide the dress down to your waist, fully exposing your chest. you were quick to do the same to her as she climbed into your lap. now face to face with her breast, you take one into your mouth slowly sucking and circling at her nipple, moans continuously leaving her lips as she tries her best to tell you just how amazing you are.

your right hand wandered through the two layers of her dress that were now bundled together at her thighs, finally coming in contact with her wet core. moving her fully soaked panties to the side, you quickly slid your middle and ring finger between her slit, coating them with her own wetness before finally inserting them into her pussy.

“ive missed this feeling so much, my love.” nayeon immediately says with a moan following suit when feeling your thumb slowly circle her clit.

focusing back to your fingers sliding in and out of her, you soon feel her walls start to tighten up around them, now hearing her breathing get heavier and heavier.

“please my love…” she says looking at you while trying her best to keep her hips in rhythm with your fingers.

her pleads now motivating you to make a beautiful mess out of her, you pick up your pace with nayeons moans getting louder and louder, the knot in her stomach now becoming undone.

letting her ride out the high, her head met your shoulder trying to calm her breathing while you pulled your fingers out from under her dress. nayeons hand grabs yours in a gentle manner taking both of your soaked fingers into her mouth to clean up her mess. you became flustered as this was the first time you’ve seen just how nasty the kingdoms crowned princess could get when pleased correctly.

after nayeon had finished up with your fingers, she pulled you in for another kiss with you now being able to taste her sweetness on her own lips. pulling away from the kiss you reminded her about needing to head back before everyone started to worry. you two quickly stood and fixed each others dresses back on.

“maybe running away wouldnt be so bad…” you said in a playful yet serious tone.

“is that a question? or a statement? because im ready when you are love. just imagine the two of us living together, continuing to explore together, and just overall be free from everything we’ve been tied down to… lets just run.” she exclaimed while looking at you carefully trying to read your face.

slowly, she holds her hand out to you seeing if youd accept or reject her offer. carefully thinking about all the goods, the bads, and what would happen to you two if caught, you reach out to her cheek, caressing it the same way she did yours not too long ago. a tear escaping nayeons eye thinking you have chosen to reject her offer.

“when your father assigned me as your lady-in-waiting, he told me to accompany you anywhere and everywhere you wanted to go. if accompanying you means running away together…” you said softly while looking into her eyes.

“then lets run princess.” you stated eagerly quickly taking nayeons hand into yours.

[tragedy-of-commons]

PUNCHES A HOLE IN UR WALL AND POKES MY HEAD IN. HI GWENNIE!!!!! major congratulations on ur milestone u lit deserved it sm thank you for everything uve done IM SO PROUD OF YOU ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

may i please request romantic w dan heng + "ive spent my whole life building walls around my heart, yet somehow, you managed to slipped right through them." feel free to tweak it however u see fit!!! <3

"I've spent my whole life building walls around my heart, yet somehow, you've managed to slip right through them."

Your confession is candid, whispered through a thick haze of tears. The heaviness of your statement doesn't escape Dan Heng entirely, but it's overshadowed by the weight of your head lolling against his shoulder.

The thing you're accusing him of sounds like a grave sin when you put it like that, but then again, maybe it is one. Maybe the unintentional fondness he harbors for you is meant to stay that way - meant to stay a secret.

For a long time, it was his one guilty pleasure, loving you. But now, as you cry and shatter just out of arm's reach, Dan Heng finds no solace or reprieve.

He doesn't know what to say or what to do; he hadn't meant to endear himself to you at all. Quite the opposite, in fact - only speaking to you when necessary, guarding his cards just as close as you guard yours.

However, the smallest of cracks plague even the largest of dams, worsening day by day until all the water bursts from its reservoir, engulfing everything in its wake.

Both of you are drowning.

Dan Heng says nothing, still as a statue. You continue, much to his relief and his distress.

"It's weird, right?" you hiccup. "That… that we both wanted to stay strangers, but we ended up like this anyway."

Trembling further, you nuzzle against his side. It almost seems like an invitation for him to provide comfort, but you know him well enough. He doesn't trust himself to assuage your pain, and even if he tried, you'd just shut down. Is your bond that superficial? And if so, why does his heart pang so forlornly at the notion?

The best thing he can do is let you get this out of your system. Despite how he's been floundering to form a response all this time, Dan Heng speaks without thinking. "I'm sorry."

He is. He's sorry that he let you get this close. He's sorry that you won't let him wipe your face clean with a cheap tissue. He's sorry that you're just a little too much like him.

You laugh, devoid of mirth. "Platitudes are r-revolting. Will you kiss me?"

"No," he whispers, stroking your hair awkwardly. His fingertips prickle like he's been toying with sewing needles. "You don't… you're vulnerable--"

"You're the one shaking."

Dan Heng kisses you.

It didn't take much of his strength to gently but desperately maneuver you to sate his hunger (wicked self-restraint), getting lost in the plush of your lips that taste of salt. For a fleeting moment, he registers that the thing responsible for the flavor are the tears rolling down your cheeks.

It doesn't explain the dampness of his own, though. A man like him hasn't cried so viscerally in years, not when everything he loved had rightfully been ripped away prior to his rebirth.

He came into this world with nothing but the weight of his previous sins on his back - and now that he has been made to care about something, no, someone - Dan Heng is reminded that he is not absolved of his crimes.

He is not absolved of his love for you.

You return the kiss with equal fervor, confirming this sentiment. Between the melding of mouths, you pile insult on top of injury, the sting heady and aware.

"I love you…"

An appropriate reply comes to mind, taunting and eager. Dan Heng doesn't stop it from flooding out, teeth gnashing against yours while he chokes on the words.

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

Both of you drown.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: anddd... that's a wrap! um, sorry for the angst, rennie. i wanted to go out with a bang. thank you for your request and for making this event so special for me <3

event post here

[ai-manre]

The women in asoiaf and their desire to find safety, to make safety, in a world that doesn't empower them to keep themselves safe, in a world oh so cruel to women. In a world that tells them its the men's job to keep them safe.

When she was done, Drogo was frowning. "This is the way of war. These women are our slaves now, to do with as we please."

"It pleases me to hold them safe," Dany said, wondering if she had dared too much. "If your warriors would mount these women, let them take them gently and keep them for wives. Give them places in the khalasar and let them bear you sons." - Dany VII, AGOT

"The time for that is past, my lady," Mirri said. "All I can do now is ease the dark road before him, so he might ride painless to the night lands. He will be gone by morning."

Her words were a knife through Dany's breast. What had she ever done to make the gods so cruel? She had finally found a safe place, had finally tasted love and hope. She was finally going home. And now to lose it all … "No," she pleaded. "Save him, and I will free you, I swear it. You must know a way … some magic, some …" - Dany VIII, AGOT

Again the shouting began. Catelyn sat despairing. She had come so close, she thought. They had almost listened, almost … but the moment was gone. There would be no peace, no chance to heal, no safety. - Catelyn XI, AGOT

Sometimes men went to sleep safe in their beds and were found dead in the morning, all burnt up. Arya didn't really believe that, and anyhow it had all happened a long time ago. Hot Pie was being silly; it wouldn't be ghosts at Harrenhal, it would be knights. Arya could reveal herself to Lady Whent, and the knights would escort her home and keep her safe. That was what knights did; they kept you safe, especially women. Maybe Lady Whent would even help the crying girl. - Arya IV, ACOK

She flew along the river walk, past the small kitchen, and through the pig yard, her hurried footsteps lost beneath the squealing of the hogs in their pens. Home, she thought, home, he is going to take me home, he'll keep me safe, my Florian. The songs about Florian and Jonquil were her very favorites. Florian was homely too, though not so old. - Sansa II, ACOK

He was going to take me home, she thought as they dug the old man's hole. There were too many dead to bury them all, but Yoren at least must have a grave, Arya had insisted. He was going to bring me safe to Winterfell, he promised. Part of her wanted to cry. The other part wanted to kick him. - Arya V, ACOK

"I could keep you safe," he rasped. "They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them." He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. "Still can't bear to look, can you?" she heard him say. He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. "I'll have that song. Florian and Jonquil, you said." His dagger was out, poised at her throat. "Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life." - Sansa VII, ACOK

"I never knew my mother," Brienne said. "My father had ladies . . . a different lady every year, but . . ."

"Those were no ladies," Catelyn said. "As hard as birth can be, Brienne, what comes after is even harder. At times I feel as though I am being torn apart. Would that there were five of me, one for each child, so I might keep them all safe."

"And who would keep you safe, my lady?"

Her smile was wan and tired. "Why, the men of my House. Or so my lady mother taught me. My lord father, my brother, my uncle, my husband, they will keep me safe . . . but while they are away from me, I suppose you must fill their place, Brienne."- Catelyn VI, ACOK

"I am sorry for all the trouble I put you to," she said, "but I have no need of boats and ships now."

"But it's all to see you safe."

"I will be safe in Highgarden. Willas will keep me safe." - Sansa II, ASOS

"We thank you for your hospitality, my lord," Robb replied. Edmure echoed him, along with the Greatjon, Ser Marq Piper, and the others. They drank his wine and ate his bread and butter. Catelyn tasted the wine and nibbled at some bread, and felt much the better for it. Now we should be safe, she thought. - Catelyn VI, ASOS

I was going to take you home! Her dragons sensed her fury. Viserion roared, and smoke rose grey from his snout. Drogon beat the air with black wings, and Rhaegal twisted his head back and belched flame. I should say the word and burn the two of them. Was there no one she could trust, no one to keep her safe? "Are all the knights of Westeros so false as you two? Get out, before my dragons roast you both. What does roast liar smell like? As foul as Brown Ben's sewers? Go!" - Dany V, ASOS

"The only game. The game of thrones." He brushed back a strand of her hair. "You are old enough to know that your mother and I were more than friends. There was a time when Cat was all I wanted in this world. I dared to dream of the life we might make and the children she would give me . . . but she was a daughter of Riverrun, and Hoster Tully. Family, Duty, Honor, Sansa. Family, Duty, Honor meant I could never have her hand. But she gave me something finer, a gift a woman can give but once. How could I turn my back upon her daughter? In a better world, you might have been mine, not Eddard Stark's. My loyal loving daughter . . . Put Joffrey from your mind, sweetling. Dontos, Tyrion, all of them. They will never trouble you again. You are safe now, that's all that matters. You are safe with me, and sailing home." - Sansa V, ASOS

And there was one girl who took to following her, the village elder's daughter. She was of an age with Arya, but just a child; she cried if she skinned a knee, and carried a stupid cloth doll with her everywhere she went. The doll was made up to look like a man-at-arms, sort of, so the girl called him Ser Soldier and bragged how he kept her safe. "Go away," Arya told her half a hundred times. "Just leave me be." She wouldn't, though, so finally Arya took the doll away from her, ripped it open, and pulled the rag stuffing out of its belly with a finger. "Now he really looks like a soldier!" she said, before she threw the doll in a brook. After that the girl stopped pestering her, and Arya spent her days grooming Craven and Stranger or walking in the woods. Sometimes she would find a stick and practice her needlework, but then she would remember what had happened at the Twins and smash it against a tree until it broke. - Arya XII, ASOS

She thought wistfully of Highgarden with its courtyards and musicians, and the pleasure barges on the Mander; a far cry from this bleak shore. At least I am safe here. Joffrey is dead, he cannot hurt me anymore, and I am only a bastard girl now. Alayne Stone has no husband and no claim. And her aunt would soon be here as well. The long nightmare of King's Landing was behind her, and her mockery of a marriage as well. She could make herself a new home here, just as Petyr said. - Sansa VI, ASOS

Arya did not like the way they kept surprising her. The hooded man was tall, enveloped in a larger version of the black-and-white robe the girl was wearing. Beneath his cowl all she could see was the faint red glitter of candlelight reflecting off his eyes. "What place is this?" she asked him.

"A place of peace." His voice was gentle. "You are safe here. This is the House of Black and White, my child. Though you are young to seek the favor of the Many-Faced God." - Arya I, AFFC

And Littlefinger was no friend of hers. When Joff had her beaten, the Imp defended her, not Littlefinger. When the mob sought to rape her, the Hound carried her to safety, not Littlefinger. When the Lannisters wed her to Tyrion against her will, Ser Garlan the Gallant gave her comfort, not Littlefinger. Littlefinger never lifted so much as his little finger for her. - Sansa I, AFFC

"As he loved you." Dany stroked the girl's hair. "Say the word, my sweet, and I will send you from this awful place. I will find a ship somehow and send you home. To Naath."

"I would sooner stay with you. On Naath I'd be afraid. What if the slavers came again? I feel safe when I'm with you."

Safe. The word made Dany's eyes fill up with tears. "I want to keep you safe." Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. "No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys … I want to protect you but … it is so hard. To be strong. I don't always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen … the … the …" - Dany II, ADWD

Arya's struggle to find a safe place and slowly losing hope over the course of her journey of ever being safe, being unable to trust safety, disbelieving of the very idea that she would be safe.

Sansa's many suitors dangling her safety as a bait to lure her in, her hedging hope after hope on each of them to give her some safety.

Dany who is so desperately yearning for a safe place and person ALL HER LIFE, who has never been kept safe and wants so badly to keep others safe the way she should have been.

Catelyn who'd played by all the rules her society had taught her, every single rule to try to create safety, yet to be betrayed so horribly.

The unsaid promise, the social contract that women should not take up arms and in return they would be protected and kept safe by those around them. They kept their end of the bargain so well, been such good girls and women, and what do they get? That social contract broken in so many ways for all these women.

There is no reward for being a girl, no matter how many promises they make you.

[purplelupins]

Lamb

|Midnight Mass |

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Father Paul Hill/John Pruitt x fem!reader

Word count: 11k

Summery: An entire life of being a good girl was a difficult cross to carry...especially in a tiny town with 127 residents on a good day. You kept the town fed and spirits as high as you could, but when a new face steps off the afternoon Breeze, things around you start to change; you don't even know you're in the eye of the storm.

Warnings: nsfw, reader is religious, religious symbolism, ideology, explanations and general conversations of religion, age gap (like this man is 80 technically and he watched reader grow up, and can remember reader as a little girl so if that’s creepy to you then go no further), stalking, manipulation, murder (hello have you seen the show?), drinking of blood, hunting of a person, grief, description of animal death, reader is described as blushing, character death, non consensual help showering, guilt and god maybe more but I think that’s it…this is not really a fix it fic

Notes: There’s a little Easter egg in this chapter for any Hamish fans…let’s see if anyone clocks it.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Crickets were the first to make a sound.

For days, that speck of an island was silent. Birds either flew away or hid in their nests. They didn’t chirp, or caw.

Bees slowly began to appear again too after a week.

Flowers began to open.

Months passed and finally things looked almost as they used to.

Buildings repaired, town cleaned up.

Only now the island looked abandoned during the day.

You had never liked summer. Too hot and humid. You still didn’t like it.

John was used to hearing the Crockett Island community wander the island every night.

He was used to the occasional sound of your screams, too.

It wasn’t often, but sometimes your fortified house lacked, and you were forced to run into the night and hide until sunrise.

John pursed his lips bitterly the first time he had stopped them from finding you on the abandoned spit on the west side.

They claimed they just wanted to help.

Wanted you to be at peace and be a part of the community again.

Those words stung like poison; hearing his own justification used back at him.

He’d seen you run past him on one of his walks, not even knowing he was there as he stood amongst the skinny trees. Eyes like little pinpoints in the darkness.

A predators eyes.

A wolf’s eyes.

When he had only wanted to be a Shepard.

Though of course that had been the issue. He would have had to have wanted to be a fellow sheep for him to see just how wrong his actions were.

Now there he was, just one of the wolves watching their token sheep run for her life.

You were so resilient. Determined to stay alive. Hope incarnate. But you were not delicate or wispy like most imagined hope to be; a foolish thing. Your hope was bruised and battered and exhausted from having to get back up again after surviving another night.

You still prayed.

He heard you at night when he would walk past your house and listen close to one of your boarded windows. It was mostly to check that you were alright.

It was a little because he found your heartbeat soothing.

But hearing you pray was what helped him continue. That you hadn’t lost your faith. He didn’t care who you prayed to…just that you had faith.

And that faith had you.

You tasted copper as you ran.

It had been months since they had last managed to get inside your house, and you had begun to get comfortable with the couple knocks at night and the pleading to come out. But over the last week, the knocks had turned to pounding, and tonight the pounding turned to splintered wood and you bolting across Crockett as fast as your exhausted body would carry you.

The best shot at safely was the thick woods on either end of the island. You used to keep a boat in the Uppards for emergencies, but they had found it and taken it one night.

Now you had become stellar at losing them, but tonight something felt different. You had noticed clear medical baggies of blood in trash cans just a few weeks following…following that night. You assumed they used Sarah’s medical connections to have shipments of blood brought to the island at night.

You wondered who Bev had to bully to have that done. Not like it was hard.

But you wondered now if perhaps the latest shipment wasn’t received, and now the islanders were…antsy.

Not that the reasoning mattered to you greatly as you passed by one of the abandoned buildings. What mattered was that they were closer to you than usual, and you hadn’t slept properly in weeks. That, and your terror that they winged bast might still be prowling around looking for a new body to drain.

You pushed yourself to go faster but you couldn’t put distance between you and them. That feeling of fear began to creep back into your tissue. It was only natural; it didn’t matter how at peace you were with death. A lamb being hunted was a lamb being hunted.

And wolves never stopped being terrifying.

John sat, book in hand inside the rectory.

Collarless.

He heard your heartbeat from a half mile away, and it was fast. Too fast.

He stood, and walked to his door and opened it to step out onto his porch. You didn’t usually come this way, but as fate would have it - or your great misfortune- you did. John could hear feet following you- a few sets by the sound of it.

John walked out into the middle of the cemetery.

He waited.

Sure enough, a few minutes later you came up the hill; your adrenaline being the only thing that kept you going.

John called your name.

It was the first time since Easter that you had heard his voice. It made you take such a quick breath that you stumbled a little. It felt like you had been sprayed with ice water.

He looked down the road where the small militia was chasing you, then back to the rectory- door wide open. You stood there for a moment, and you wanted to keep running. But those footsteps were close and you figured it would be easier to fight off one instead of several.

You could feel your rage start to rear its head over the fear, but you knew it would only get you killed.

You ran towards him, and he began leading you inside. The warm glow of the rectory enveloped you, and John shut and locked the door as soon as you stepped onto the floorboards. He closed the curtains and turned off most lights aside from a reading lamp, and began taking you to the far end of the house. As you approached you stopped short and shook your head.

“What are you doing?” You whispered, eying him wearily.

He knelt down and lifted a part of the carpet in his room and lifted a small door.

You stared at him hard.

And he stared back. “It was built for me decades ago for storms.” He said simply, and calmly.

You were apprehensive. Even more now than just being in his presence.

Uneasy.

Terrified.

Cold.

“Please…they won’t find you.” He whispered a little harsher- you couldn’t hear them but those footsteps were getting closer now. Just cresting the hill.

You might have resented the monster before you more than anything, but you did need help. And you didn’t have a plethora of options. You walked over to him and sat down on the edge of the opening- feet hitting the steep stairs. “I don’t trust you.” You said, staring down into the dark room. You could see a lamp there.

“I know.” He nodded.

You blinked, and didn’t look at him as you began to lower yourself. John grasped your arm to help you, but you wrenched it from his grip, “Don’t touch me.” You snapped.

He immediately dropped his hands, and had to almost sit on them to keep himself from reaching out to you to help.

As you hit the ground, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small fishers knife to show him.

“If you don’t let me out, or try anything I’m killing myself and braving Hell, Father.” You shot at him.

Again, Father Pruitt only nodded in understanding, “The lamp is fully changed. There’s a blanket on the shelf.” He said, then looked suddenly back towards the front of the house.

You flicked the light on, and when you stared back up at the preist, he quietly shut the door.

You watched it for a moment, then slowly took in the space. A very small room that looked more like a bomb shelter. There was a small bed and a shelf with some canned food. And indeed there was a thick blanket there. You sighed, and went to settle in only to jump a little when you heard voices. You stayed still and tried to listen as close as you could…but then it went quiet, and you only heard one pair of soft footsteps.

John opened the door to see a handful of fairly new parishioners standing there on his stoop.

“Evening Father…she ran past here a few minutes ago did you hear anything?” One of them asked.

She.

You didn’t even have a name to them anymore.

John sucked on his teeth, “I’m afraid not. She’s quick.”

Another one nodded, “G’night Father.” They mumbled and began walking away- eyes scanning the trees and brush.

He watched them for a moment, then walked back inside and locked the door again. He might have gone out that night for a walk or to visit someone in the community. While he didn’t fully count himself as a priest anymore, he was still the guide to many of his flock. They were even more lost now than ever.

After that first night, many turned to the church for help. His heart ached that still his parish turned towards God for help; that he hadn’t driven them away from their faith entirely.

Many resented him.

He didn’t hold any blame towards them.

But still, when he held Mass, many came. Many still confessed to him. Many still asked for his aid.

But John Pruitt was less of a person now, and more of a symbol.

A tool.

He kept to himself- accepting his passive segregation.

Unwanted, but needed.

With no need for food, John felt a sudden panic when he hadn’t given you anything fresh. He strode back to the little door and gently opened it; the lamp was still on, but even in the low light he could clearly see you sitting against one of the walls breathing deep, heart rate slow.

You hadn’t used the blanket, he noticed. John knew you were strong willed, but he didn’t know how stubborn you were. Perhaps a trait you hadn’t discovered until he ripped your life apart.

John carefully lowered himself down into the little cellar, and crouched down in front of you. He gingerly eased his arms under your knees, and pulled you to his chest, then hoisted you up and carried you back to the main level.

John didn’t care if the others heard your heartbeat. He didn’t care if they came to his door. He knew they wouldn’t dare try to get you while he was there. He had been turned for longer than them, and was much stronger, and much faster. For the ones who were present when Sturge had shot Sarah, they knew he wasn’t incapable of beating a man bloody.

He laid you down on his bed, and slipped your boots off carefully; he caught the knife that fell from your left one, and rolled it over in his hand.

He had pushed you to violence. Self-defence, but violence all the same. He tarnished that ray of sunlight he had seen that first day he returned.

John smiled bitterly. He supposed it was only fitting that you were sunlight and he would die if he touched it.

You were so limp as you slept- your exhaustion taking over and forcing your body to rest. John brought the blanket over you, and left you there to sleep.

The bed laid unused most days.

It wasn’t as if he truly slept anymore.

The first thing you were aware of was the great sense of comfort that enveloped you.

The second was how that feeling horrified you.

You knew you had slept in an uncomfortable position, so why was there a pillow under your head and a blanket over you.

The third was how well rested you were.

You instinctively reached for the knife you kept in your boot, but then that came to your forth realisation: you weren’t wearing your boots.

You bolted up, and took in your surroundings. You were back in the rectory. You felt fear start to creep back into your flesh as you realised just how deeply you had slept. Your hand instinctively reached for your neck and shoulders so ensure you didn’t have any marks. You checked your arms and then you saw the flicker of metal out of the corner of your eye- your knife sat comfortably beside you on the bedside table. You snatched it up, and slipped your feet down onto the floor as quietly as you could-

“I made you some coffee if you’d like it.”

John called to you; he had heard your heart rate spike as you awoke. In an effort to not spook you too much, he waited to speak from his place in the living room until you were fully up.

You crept to the door, and tentatively pushed it open, knife clutched tight as you surveyed the room.

The curtains were all drawn, and two lamps were on. If it weren’t for the man who lived there it might have been a very inviting home. But you saw the man in question sat at his desk, writing.

John paused, and looked up from his paper to you.

“How are you?” He asked, genuinely wanting to know. It was a loaded question- he knew- but he truly wished to know any ounce of your mental state that you would provide him with.

You looked around once more- ensuring you were alone.

“Don’t worry, they all think you’re in the Uppards.” He said, turning a little towards you.

You stood there. And stared at him. You didn’t even know what to say to him.

“A shipment was late.” You finally said.

His brows perked up, “Yes.” He nodded, “Yes there…there was an issue. Has been pushed back but it’ll be here by tonight, not to worry.”

You nodded.

John sucked in a breath and exhaled, “I’m sorry-“

“You’re not ashamed of what you did, Father?” You cut him off, voice breaking more than you would have liked. Finally meeting his eyes properly for the first time in months.

Father Pruitt placed his pen down and leaned onto his knees, staring up at you, “I believe I…I do feel shame yes. For my actions, but even the good intentions that I attempted were misconstrued, I never meant-“

“But it happened,” You shot back - eyes starting to sting, “You were selfish. You just…assumed everyone would want what you wanted.”

He nodded solemnly and stood slowly, and suddenly you were a little more afraid. You didn’t know what he was fully capable of anymore, and you did not want to find out. As if he could sense your apprehension, John backed away and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“You’re welcome to stay if you have questions-“ he started, trying to give you an open space.

“Questions? I don’t have any questions, Father,” you did. But you wouldn’t admit that yet, “I am alone, and I will live alone and I will die alone. I don’t need to know much more if it won’t change that.” Your voice shook.

He nodded and looked down- brows pinching together as he began to feel the weight of your burden, “I’m so-“

“Please don’t.” You said, tears forming in your eyes.

John raised his gaze to look at you, and he pursed his lips that you once thought were so pretty. A moment passed as both of your gazes were trained on one another.

John watched your beautiful eyes well up the longer you looked at him, and he clenched his fists to stay put lest he try to comfort you. He had only just gotten you to open up the tiniest bit to trust him for a few hours that night, he didn’t want to take one step forward and three back. So he didn’t try to defend himself. He didn’t try to make you stay or understand.

He hoped there would be a time when he could, but he knew that it wasn’t time yet.

You took a shaky breath, and turned to the door, and left.

Once upon a time you might have looked back and maybe would have waved goodbye. Might have said that you'd see him tomorrow.

Might have wanted to stay longer.

Might have flushed in his company.

But you didn't look behind you. Not anymore.

If you had, you likely would have caught sight of the preacher in the window where one of the curtains was pulled back a sliver; you might have seen how he let the sunlight fall over his face; how he let the sun burn him as he watched you.

John listened to your heartbeat fade as you walked further away and out of his sight. His chest ached just as his skin did. And that ache churned and curdled down into his stomach and out into his fingertips. He felt that thing that he had once been so thankful for not feeling- guilt. It felt like so long ago that he had sat across from Riley and told him about how God had moved through him and how remorse had never come after Joe...Now he felt sick when he dwelled on his delusion. So selfish he had been. So utterly desperate.

Sometimes he could still hear that record you had played for him...how you had reminded him of his youth. Your vibrance had overthrown him, and drawn him in. That memory alone made him feel younger than the blood he drank.

The warm summer air immediately made you feel sticky. Humidity filled your lungs as you took a few settling breaths. Then as you reached the bottom of the hill, you finally allowed the tears in your eyes to fall. You sobbed quietly as you walked past the general store. It was an unwritten rule that they kept out of there- that was your space during the day. Most of the time they abided by the understanding.

Sometimes someone got hungry and waited to see if they could sneak a bite of you.

You had to laugh a little though- it was always a dead giveaway if it wasn’t safe to enter the store. All you had to look at were the windows.

Covered: not safe.

Uncovered: safe.

They kept the store stocked enough for you. Sometimes you felt ill at the thought of them just doing it to keep you alive. You bet they thought it was a mercy. You wondered if they fought over it; end the food supply to make you starve and beg them to turn you vs. keep you alive because you didnt deserve their fate.

You went to the shop everyday knowing that one day you wouldn’t have food stocked. Shelves and fridges empty.

Waiting for the day that they finally broke and had enough of keeping you alive.

You passed by more houses...Scarboroughs and the Flynns, and you didnt dare look up at the buildings. You never did anymore. It hurt too much.

The families you knew well used to leave you things…food they made out of boredom…flowers…Annie used to write you the odd letter. Then after a while they stopped.

Back in the later spring sometimes someone would be stupid and run out of their house to try and grab you...The smell of burnt flesh was still engrained in your nose.

No one tried anymore.

You wondered who was still there. You wondered if Ali was still there... you wondered how he was. You wondered how Leeza was and if her family was okay. You wondered if Bev was pulling the strings.

You missed that routine you used to treasure. You missed seeing your friends and neighbours. You missed talking.

It was like some sick joke that the first person you had spoken to in close to 6 months was the very man who had done this to you.

When you finally reached your house, you felt your heart sink even lower as you took inventory of the damage. The broken doorframe and smashed windows were going to be an issue.

You sighed and walked to the small shed at the back of your house to retrieve tools you had accumulated and set about fixing your home. Hours passed as you tried and tired again and again to make sure everything was fixed and strong. But the longer you worked, the lower the sun settled, and the less time you had to ensure you would be safe. But as twilight began to set in, you sighed; you were done. The inside of your house was almost pitch black with all the windows boarded up over the broken glass. You stretched and locked your doors, then began up the stairs to wash yourself after the previous night. But then as you walked past the spare room, you stopped breathing.

You had missed a smashed window.

The wind blew against your face as if it was taunting you of your mistake.

Your gut tightened as you began weighing your options.

You didn’t have many.

And the most feasible one made your eyes glaze over as you contemplated every life choice you had ever made.

With one look out that window, you knew you didn’t have time to think of anything else. So against your better judgement, you grabbed a large bag from your room and began shoving anything you might need, showered and bolted out your door within ten minutes with your hair still wet.

You weaved through the island's foliage and kept off the main road lest anyone be watching from their windows. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know where you were going. As you crept through the trees past the marsh, you crouched down and stared up at the rectory in the distance. There was a warm light coming from the building like a beacon; your gut clenched at the memory of Easter... how you had thought the exact same thing for St. Patricks.

The sun was just a sliver of light now on the horizon, and you knew you had to decide quickly if you were going through with this or finding a tree to hide in tonight. You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath.

I’m here to help

Those words of his…they still rang in your ears from that first day. He was sick. Selfish. Egotistical and manipulative and…

You sniffled.

You had really thought he was a kind man. You had let him in and he had made a home of your soul. Healed you and guided you and aided you, but all for himself.

You pursed your lips. You hated that you needed his help. But you did.

With another deep breath, you began stalking up the grass, and hurried a little more when you heard voices down the road. You hadn’t even noticed it was properly night time and worry spiked in you as you stepped up to the door and went to kno-

“Come in.”

You jumped at the sound of his low, soft voice calling out to you from inside. You slowly opened the door, and took a tentative step inside.

John Pruitt was stirring a cup of tea by the kitchen counter, and looked up at you- a weak smile on his face.

“Twice in one day, to what do I owe the pleasure, young lady?”

You clenched your jaw at his honeyed words. So gentle and honest-sounding.

“They destroyed my house. I didn’t have time to repair it completely. Didn’t feel like being dinner.” You murmured, then looked at the cup he seemed to have forgotten he was holding.

John followed your gaze, and nodded, “I heard you come up through the trees 10 minutes ago…I hope you don’t mind, but I made it for you just in case.” He extended the cup out to you, and you eyed it wearily.

You didn’t see him make it. Anything could be in it.

John knew that look. The same one you had given him when he ushered you inside the previous night. He retracted the offering and placed it on the counter.

“I apologize for their brutality …many of them don’t know better. I will speak with them tonight at Mass. They won’t harm you again.” He assured you like he used to when you thought his last name was Hill. “It’ll be fixed by tomorrow.”

Your gaze snapped up to his, “Mass?” You asked.

He nodded in realisation that you likely weren’t around when service happened, “I- it’s…well…it wasn’t my idea…it’s- everyone is so lost and they need something to hold onto…I cannot undo what I did. And I know they will never give me forgiveness, but many of them are still very close to God and some have become closer in their…confusion…and I’m just…I try to keep them on the right path. The path I should have been on..stayed on. Your path.” He pushed his hands towards you as he spoke so sincerely.

You pursed your lips as you listened. You wanted so badly to believe him…but the last time you did it had been the worst decision of your life.

The silence stretched between you. You didn’t want to ask for his help, but it was too late to not ask-

“You are welcome to stay here again.” He added, trying to get you to engage. Like he needed you to speak to him.

You nodded, “My warning still applies.” You reminded him of how he’d better play nice or you’ll be dead before he can do anything.

John sighed and nodded. His brows pinched and his eyes drooped, “Of course- I- Mass is in a couple hours…but I can stay-“

“I’d rather you weren’t here, Father.” You said quietly, looking down as guilt started to creep into your gut. He was so wonderful at making himself seem small. Non-threatening. You forced yourself to remember how easily he had restrained you in the church; how his hands had held you without making a mark yet you couldn’t pull away…

“I understand.” He muttered, then something seemed to catch his attention outside as he almost jerked up from the counter and looked towards the front window. You twitched at his reaction, and already knew there was someone nearby before he said it.

“Come on, let’s get you settled.” He said almost to himself as he began back towards the small door in the floor.

You followed behind him, and gripped your bag’s strap a little tighter as he crouched and opened the hatch. He shifted away a little to make room for you to get by, but you saw how tightly he clenched his fists. Whether it was to keep himself from reaching out to help you or to grab you, you didn’t know.

As you descended, you noticed that it was far cleaner down there, and had an extra lamp.

“Knock twice if you need anything.” He said softly. Earnest.

“I won’t.” You stopped looking up at him as that guilt started to return.

“I’m sure you won’t. But everyone needs something sometimes.” He finished, and offered you a tight little smile.

You stared up at him, and neither of you moved.

“Goodnight, little one.” He murmured.

The endearment made your stomach flip upside down and your throat constricted; you ached from how much you missed...well...everything. You missed being called "Hun" by the fishermen and being hugged by Annie and walking Leeza to church and sitting among the pews and enjoying your morning walks and you missed your life.

Before you could say anything, he closed the door, and you heard him lay the carpet over top. There were no footsteps though- not for a few minutes. You listened close, and felt your eyes unfocus when you heard him muttering a prayer over you.

You almost shouted up to him to stop it.

That you didnt need his protection.

But your mouth went dry when you realized that you did.

Why else were you letting him hide you?

Several minutes later, you heard his long strides move throughout the rectory, then the door shut, and you were left in silence.

Mass.

Sadness flooded you in mourning of your beloved routine, but jealously quickly took its place when you realized you were the only one being deprived of your time of worship. The jealousy startled you. Anger was understandable, but jealousy was new.

You closed your eyes, and focused on why you were there. Safety.

The feeling slowly left you, and as you calmed, you turned on the lamp. It was cold, and with no extra warmth, you shuffled onto the cot and grabbed the thick blanket that sat folded there. As you settled in, cocooning yourself in it, and laid your head on the pillow, you felt your eyes start to droop. You found yourself breathing in the smell of the blanket, not even noticing that it was the smell of the man keeping you hidden that you were inhaling. It comforted you…like smelling your mother or father. Somehow familiar.

It was early when you awoke the following morning, not that you could have told that by your surroundings. Your sleep could have been five minutes for all you knew. You laid there for a few moments, listening. The last thing you wanted was for it still be night and for Pruitt to have a visitor. You paled at the thought of Bev being there. But when a few minutes turned into several, then you were certain there indeed was no additional company.

It was silent.

You gingerly raised yourself up out of the bed, and made your way up the ladder- bag in tow over your shoulder. You didn't even make it up to the top to knock before you heard shuffling and footsteps above you. The door was pulled open, and you stood stock-still for a moment as fear clutched your heart for a moment. The light from the lamp below you caught his eyes and made them glow in the darkness of the bedroom. Indeed it was dim in the space around him which only seemed to accentuate his dark features and made him appear as more of a creature than a cursed man. You swallowed.

“Good morning, young lady.” He greeted you with a hand outstretched.

You clenched your jaw, but took his offered hand tentatively, and he pulled you up with far more strength than he should have had. You got your footing, and noted the light illuminating the drawn curtains- it was bright enough for you to leave.

You didn’t say anything, and chose instead to dig your nails into the palm of your hand.

“They put in new windows and fixed your door…I’m so sorry that happened…I spoke with them and they will do better.” He murmured gently, as if he didn’t want to scare you away.

You nodded; mouth clammed shut. There once had been a time where you would have bared your heart to him, and poured your soul into his hands, but now you found yourself unable to find much more than a few words to utter to him.

“Did you manage alright? I know- I know it’s a bit cold down there…” His voice was a low rumble as you adjusted your bag.

“Just fine.” You whispered, looking away from him. You couldn’t stand that he cared.

“I can-“

“I’m fine, Father.” You snapped. He looked like you had slapped him; to his credit he also looked like he understood it. “Thank you.” You added when the pain in your chest twisted unbearably.

He nodded, seeing your unease.

"Goodbye." You whispered as you gathered yourself and headed to the door.

He so deeply wanted to tell you to stay and let him explain everything, but he supposed if he needed to force you to say, then his apology would be hollow and selfish.

Days passed quietly again. A few knocks on your door was the most disturbance you got. Things had calmed considerably.

He must have been right…that shipment did come.

Something itched in the back of your mind as you sat in your fortified house one night. It had been over a week since you had last been hiding in the rectory, but something he had said stewed inside you.

He still held Mass.

You wondered if that had been something agreed upon by everyone…they must have felt so lost…

It had been close to midnight when Father Pruitt had left for Mass that night…and it was just past midnight now.

You wondered if…if you could just climb up one of the trees and listen. If he still preached with the same vigour as he used to you were certain you could hear a little. It was silly and dangerous- you knew that- but it had been so long with just yourself and your thoughts…you craved just a little bit of something else.

You slowly walked downstairs to your front door and listened. It was silent outside.

You very slowly undid your several locks, and gingerly pried it open when you still heard nothing.

Indeed, there was not a single person in your field of sight- not that there were many who ever came down your way that far down the island. You opened the door a little more, and stepped out into the night air. It was refreshing when you weren’t running for your life.

You shut the door just as carefully as you had opened it, and quickly knelt down to check that you had your knife in your boot before starting to walk as softly as you could towards the bushland. The tall grass that had been bleached by the summer sun rose up around you the further you walked and helped to hide you while you trekked across the island and through the marsh and into the skinny trees that slowly grew thicker until you were on the same hill that you used to walk up everyday.

You could see the back of the church, and the bright light that shone through the windows. You had been right- you could hear them sing. It would have been so easy for you to just go back home, but you moved without thinking, and began towards one of the older trees behind St. Patrick’s and jumped up to the lowest branch, and began to climb.

As you grasped each branch, climbing higher and higher, you began to sing along; your throat was tight as tears threatened to fall, and you let them.

John felt a little tick in the back of his head that made him twitch slightly as he began down the aisle. Something off. Something he wasn’t used to during church. The people around him sang their hymn, and as he listened closely, he recognised a sound that he hadn’t heard in so long.

Your singing. Broken by your cries.

John’s sinuses stung as tears rose that wouldn’t fall, and he nearly stopped service right then to go and find you, but he was stuck.

You sat above the church, and leaned your head against the trunk of the tree as you listened to the preacher. You could have sworn he was louder than he used to be… though he wasn’t so much about revival, as he was about reconciliation and guidance. His words no longer made you uneasy. You didn’t want to admit it, but it did indeed sound as if he just wanted to help. Finding the light in the dark.

Mass finished, and you watched the islanders leave slowly…and saw the tall figure you knew wellstand at the front to bid everyone a blessed night. It was so strange to see it all from your viewpoint then- truly a stranger looking in. You perked up when you started to recognise some faces and felt your throat grow tight all over again. Your eyes burned from the tears that wouldn’t stop.

The church grew empty, and John waited until he couldn’t hear footsteps before finally turning back inside to shed his chasuble. His thoughts preoccupied him as he moved quickly and placed the fabric onto the table in the vestibule and walked out the back door. He hoped he wasn’t too late…that you hadn’t left yet. Then as he stepped into the chilled night air, he knew you were still in your perch.

That sweet smell of your skin…the gentle thump of your heartbeat.

John slowly followed the sound, and stared up at the trees until he spotted you. He stood down at the bottom amongst the roots, and cast one last look behind him then back up at you and extended his hand for you.

You stared down at him, and while he was the last person you wanted to help you down from that tree…he was also somehow the exact person you wanted, too. His sermon had made your hardened shell break a little, and you gradually climbed down to him. You sat on that last branch, and tentatively took his outstretched hand; he closed his fingers around yours and you jumped.

Your feet hit the ground with a soft thud, and you quickly looked around out of habit.

John still held your hand in his, and he gazed down at you so softly that you thought he might weep. Instead, he slowly brought his free hand up to your cheek and wiped away the remains of your tears.

“God loves you…” he whispered earnestly.

You felt your nose sting, and your lips pulled into a small, bitter smile as a tear fell and caught the corner of your mouth, “Just not enough to save me.”

The man before you pursed his lips at that, and looked down at your hand in his. He didn’t show it, but you felt a single drop of water on your thumb.

So he could cry.

And he did.

His eyes were red from holding them back once he did finally look back up at you.

Neither of you said another word before you took your hand from his grasp and left him. You took off into the brush and kept low, and didn’t look back even as you felt that prickle on the back of your neck like you used to after Mass.

September brought with it a crisp wind.

Colder weather meant you prayed harder that no shipments were delayed or you would have to hide out in the cold if they got inside your home. The autumn that you once loved was now a marker for your extreme isolation. You knew snow would eventually come, and winter storms that would knock out the power.

There was one night when you were delirious with loneliness that you actually walked into the main town. You walked along the beach. You knew most islanders would be at Mass, so you strode to the marina and sat on the shoreline. You stayed there for hours, and found yourself not caring when you heard voices of people passing by on the road. It wasn’t until you heard a couple familiar old voices that you looked up at the doc. Leeza and Warren were standing at the edge of the platform looking out over the water.

It was Leeza who stopped talking first. She stalled, and looked down sharply and you stared up at her. She looked as if she saw a ghost, and you didn’t blame her.

You were practically like a unicorn on Crockett.

You watched her elbow Warren when he asked her what was wrong, and he looked down at you with the same expression. You waved slowly, and offered them a small smile.

They looked behind them, then back at you and waved back.

They didn’t come down to see you. And they didn’t tell anyone where you were.

You stayed and watched the slow approach of the Belle that they now used for shipments. It tore through the waves of the Atlantic, and you watched as it docked. You wondered how easy it would be for you to sneak aboard, but you knew that was next to impossible. You didn’t know who sailed it, you didn’t know who intercepted the shipment…for all you knew you would be offering yourself up on a platter for Bev to serve to the community.

The sky began to brighten, and you still remained where you were as the boat sailed away.

You almost started waving your arms and screaming for them to come back.

Almost.

The sun was still down when you stood up and brushed off your pants. You sighed and turned to start back to your house for a needed cup of coffee, but when you looked up to the main road, you went still.

His dark eyes bore into you. Father Pruitt stood on the edge of the road staring down at you. You wondered how long he had been standing there. You hadn’t heard him.

He had that same pained expression on his face that he seemed to have every time he saw you. Like you were even more of a reminder of his sins than the turned islanders.

You stared back, and shivered when a wind picked up. You could feel the sun start to rise behind you, and you wondered if he was going to stay there looking at you until he burned.

It seemed like he wasn’t quite ready to face his wrongdoings as he slowly turned and began to walk away. You stood there alone as the day came and embraced you.

And once again, the island was silent.

Another day alive.

Another day alone.

November was cold. So cold.

During the day you could sometimes see sheets of ice floating on the top of the shore. Frost on the trees. Complete silence.

You had been trying for weeks now to map out the arrival and departure of the Belle and who sailed it, how long it stayed, if there were any moments when it was left unattended. Anything.

You could feel yourself start to lose yourself. You looked at old recipes you used to love making, and considered trying them out…but your shoulders would sag when you remembered you had no one to feed and a shortage of ingredients. You listened to every vinyl in your house and had started several books. Your internet connection was horrible as it always was but you tried to learn something new when you could. You were jamming your brain full of information so you could ignore the hole in your heart that grew everyday.

You knew you couldn’t stay like this forever, but if you were honest you didn’t know what else to do.

You were afraid.

John pulled his long coat a little closer around his collar as he began his trek back up to the rectory. He waved at a family as they passed him, and he found that he now received small smiles from people instead of grimaces. That change alone had him humming a little as he ascended the hill, but before he even started, he stopped short.

Those sensitive ears of his prickled as he picked up the sound of a rapid heartbeat.

He listened carefully to see if it was just an animal in the trees, but it was much too strong. He began to follow it, but after only a few strides, a sense of dread filled him.

It had to be you.

And you hadn’t come this way in months.

With your heart beating that fast, you were either terrified or exhausted. Or both. Neither was a wonderful option. John hurried his steps and walked up the pathway to the rectory when he slowed again just shy of the steps.

John had to steady himself.

The stench of blood confronted him like a wall, and he felt that repressed hunger inside him rise, but the last bit of goodness in him beat it down like a heathen. It was then that his sharp ears picked up the sound of several pairs of feet walking on gravel…perhaps 50 meters away. They were coming that way, fast.

John stepped up to the door, and noticed then that the door was ajar. He never locked it- it wasn’t like he needed to. But it wasn’t the open door that made him even more compelled to move quickly, it was the drop of blood there on his doorstep.

You were actively bleeding.

John pushed the door open, and scanned the dark home. It was so still inside. If it weren’t for his heightened senses, he could have missed what was wrong. The Monsignor, however, did know very well that there was something or someone in his room. The man slowly made his way back to the dark room, and his eyes lowered to the floor at the edge of his carpet.

Little bloody fingerprints were imprinted on the floor and smudged onto the fabric.

John knelt down and gingerly gripped the edge of the hidden door, and pulled. If it weren’t for his stellar sight in the dark, John wouldn’t have seen a single thing in that cellar. But as he stared down, he remained calm and refrained from making any sudden movements.

You were there against the furthest wall, curled in on yourself, eyes just barely visible in the sliver of dim light from up above; blood soaked your visible clothes and you trembled terribly.

“Don’t you dare come any closer!” You cried in a strained voice.

You were in pain.

“What happened?” He asked gently, crouching a little more to get a closer look at your shaking form.

“You lied that’s what happened!” Your voice was strong despite the tremble from fear and pain.

“How did I lie?” He asked. The Father tried to keep his voice as level as he could without begging you to tell him who did this. However, he took a very slow, very cautious step down onto the stair and that was not the right move.

“I said-…I said don’t come closer!” Your edge was lost as fear began to take over.

He held his hands up and knelt there on the first step, “You’re clearly hurt, I just want to help-“

“That’s what you said before! And the time before that! But if you had meant what you said about telling everyone to leave me alone then I wouldn’t be here!” You were almost crying- throat growing tight and heart beating faster as anxiety set in.

Father Pruitt felt his fingers itch with want to carry you up to his home and care for you, but he couldn’t risk scaring you before expressing his submission. Disbelief settled in as he looked over your tattered and bloodied clothes.

“They did this…” he said aloud to himself as he came to terms with the carnage, “I told them very clearly that you weren’t to be bothered I promise you-“ he started.

“Even i-if you’re not lying they didn’t listen…” You curled in tighter on yourself. Your weakening voice strung at Johns heart.

John swallowed and made to take another step down to you as he tried to quell his rage.

“Hey- shh…okay. I’m- listen to me sweetheart I’m-“ John paused then. He could hear those same footsteps he had heard before now just outside the rectory and he had a sneaking suspicion that he had what they were seeking, “I’ll be right back.” He whispered and lowered the door again.

John slowly straightened himself up and stood to his full height; he began walking to his door, but as he grew further from you, his calm walk turned into a determained stride that was in no way welcoming and anything but docile.

He wrenched the door open and without missing a beat he stepped out in front of the small group of islanders who were now half stumbling back from him.

Johns nostrils flared and his eyes lacked any semblance of the gentle man he was. His eyes glinted in the light from their lanterns, and his shoulders hunched slightly like he was ready to attack. In that moment, John was thankful that you couldn’t see him in such a state- he was certain he would never lay eyes on you again if you did.

“Did I not say that that young woman was off limits?” He bellowed, teeth bared as he snapped, taking another step forward off the porch.

There was a small gathering there, but not a single person had been prepared for the Father to burst in such a way. The attack on you had seemed like such an insignificant thing for them- like they were trying to catch a stray cat.

“Hey now! I-we- well you know how- I- it was-“ the man at the front floundered.

“I gave you all specific boundaries to abide by. I might as well have said nothing because now I have the last creature on this island that deserves Gods grace, and she is halfway to meeting her maker.” John paused and looked down at the stomach of the man then back up at his face. There was a large bullet hole there just above his bellybutton that had a ring of blood surrounding it, “Did she do this?” He asked, still seething, cold and direct. His tone quieted as he spoke now.

The man nodded, “Y-yeah she blew me right off-“

“Good.” John nodded and shifted back up to his full height, “You know what this is good because now you all know the consequences of disobeying your limitations. Daylight is one of your limits, and this girl is now too. Get that through your heads or god help me I’ll hand her the gun next time myself.” He didn’t wait for a rebuttal before he was slamming the door and locking it.

John barely broke stride as he turned and marched right back to the door in the floor and opened it back up to peer down at you. You were still there, and still cowering in the corner.

“I’m so sorry…They’re gone…I- please let me help you…I can keep you safe here but you’ll bleed to death if you don’t let me help you.” He pleaded with you.

John watched you for a few very long moments. When you didn’t respond, he felt a jolt of dread spear his chest and he was suddenly flooded with the memories of his sister on her deathbed; how he hadn’t been able to do anything about it. It only intensified when memories of Sarah’s limp body flashed in his mind.

He had lost his sister.

He had lost his love.

He had lost his daughter.

Now his eyes blazed as he decided he was going to help you whether you let him or not.

You were not going to die.

Johns eyes prickled as he pushed those memories away and leapt down the remaining steps to you and gathered you into his arms. You weren’t completely limp, but you weren’t doing well. You must have gone into shock from the attack, coupled with the freezing cold night and your lack of proper clothing.

As he pulled you up with him and gently laid you on his bed, he finally saw why you had come to him.

On your shoulder was a very deep bite. Whoever had done that to you had not wanted to let go- looked as if the perpetrator had almost taken a chunk of flesh right out of you. John felt that anger in him start to seep into his veins as he thought of someone maiming you so brutally- he nearly considered finding that man who had done this to you and-

No.

No he was better than that. That man would meet his fate when it was the right time.

John sucked in a breath despite not needing to, and went to his small bathroom. He searched frantically for a small medial kit he remembered he had there, and almost tore it open to find what he needed. He took a moment to gather himself as well. Certainly he was well stocked with blood, and he wasn’t hungry, but there was always something about fresh blood that made that beast inside him claw at its bars.

But this was you.

And he would be strong for you.

When he returned to you, your face was buried in the blanket there, hugging it to yourself. John pursed his lips, and ripped open the disinfectant wipe and gauze. He wetted the material in the sink, and began dabbing at your wound.

“Holy Spirit, please come like a dove…Shield and protect now the one that I love. Cover her wounds with Your grace feathered wings…Shield them from sorrow, breathe hope songs within…”

John’s voice began to shake as your wound came clean; as he prayed for you, all he could think of were how many times he was unable to stop Gods plan of taking those he loved. How he was perhaps still foolishly trying to stand in His way.

“Tend with Your goodness the pain that she bears. Heal now her sickness with miracle care. Carry her high far above till she sees...”

He pulled your night dress down over your shoulder to clean the rest of the dried blood. He swallowed as his mouth began to ache. His teeth itched at the sight of such fresh blood- flesh already broken…so easy…

But he pushed it away.

“Your rainbow of promise, real hope lies ahead. I love her so dearly, so help me to be. All that you, would give out through me.”

John gazed down at your sleeping form and felt his chest tighten. His last little piece of hope. His ray of sunshine that burned him to touch but he couldn’t let go. Even with your skin clean, your clothes were still sodden with blood and sweat. He knew that if you stayed in them you could risk getting ill, and worsening your recovery. He sobered at the thought.

John looked up that the cross on his wall, and closed his eyes for a moment. “Oh God, in beautiful ways, you created and redeemed mankind. Give us steadfast minds to resist the allurements of sin so that we may attain the joys of eternal life. Hear us, Oh Lord. Amen.” He muttered quietly, and slowly as he focused on the words, he found that his thirst ebbed away slowly and the ache in his mouth dissipated.

After a moment, John carefully unfurled you from your position and pried your hands away from the blanket. Then as tactfully and quickly as he could, he gripped the edge of your dress and pulled it up. He kept his eyes glued to the fabric in his hand, then once it came away, he stared only at the wound you had; to keep your warm, he pulled one of the blankets you had bled on up over your body. John wiped and dabbed as gently as he could, chastising himself when he would accidentally watch one of the droplets of bloody water run astray and trail down your collarbone over your clavicle. Your skin was coming clean, but there was still the grime and sweat on you.

John hung his head- his forehead touching your arm.

“God help me…” he murmured. If you got a fever because he didn’t clean your wound and body fully then he would fret and stress even more than he already was. It would torture him just as it would torture you.

After contemplation, John made the decision to hold you under a gentle shower steam- just something to wash you a little better. If he had dwelled on the idea a little longer he might have talked himself out of it and spiralled for a while, so instead he chose to act quickly. He strode into the little washroom and turned the tap. Waiting until the stall was filled with steam that would warm you up.

John stared down at you for a long minute- wondering if there was some other way to do this. When he didn’t come up with anything, John trained his eyes on a point on the wall to keep from accidentally seeing your bare skin, and gathered you into his arms as gently as he could, and carried you into the shower. As soon as he stepped in, the water began to drench his clothes. The warmth permeated the small space and cocooned both of you as the water soothed your filthy body. John was mindful to not constantly hold you under the direct spray; he slowly let your legs down to hang limp and he dangled your arms around his shoulders as he swayed with you under the spray like a doll. With his height, your feet didn’t even touch the ground as he held you, and it seemed to make things easier as he could manipulate you enough to rinse off most areas of your skin without needing to jostle you too much and cause more bleeding or wake you up.

The longer he stood there with you, he began to realise that there was something so tranquil to stand there with you in his arms. Relaxing and hypnotic - the warmth of the steam invading his senses. The intimacy of having someone’s body against his. John found himself humming, and his thumb drew small circles on your back. It was selfish to say he enjoyed it. Sinful too. But he did. He could feel your soft breath on his neck, and your heart beat against his soaked chest.

He felt young again.

Human again.

John basked in the rejuvenation.

After several minutes, he carefully stepped out with you, and cradled you to his chest as he grabbed his towel from the back of the door. He sat with you on the lid of the toilet and did his best to wrap you in the towel while barely looking at you. He praised God for the halted bleeding, and while he was still dripping he walked back into his room with you.

John positioned you on the bed, and rubbed the towel against your damp skin until he was satisfied. He then pulled any hair away from your shoulder and placed a large bandage over your wound. He paid attention so as to not irritate any small cuts from the bite. It would scar, but you weren’t going to turn.

Then as he pulled away, John could feel his soaked clothes cling to him, and he stood quickly to not get the bed any wetter. He needed to change you, but if he was going to keep you dry he needed to deal with himself first. He grabbed whatever he had folded on the edge of his bed and went back to the washroom to change. As he removed his shirt, he paused when it clicked that now he had to dress you while you were completely bare. He swallowed thickly, and quickly settled into the mindset that you were his patient, and he was giving you care. Nothing else.

If he was honest he wished the earth would swallow him up.

What time was sunrise?

Maybe he could go for a walk and just disappear forever in the wind. The thought was fleeting but so tempting at that moment when he straightened and quickly changed. Even the dry clothes didn’t fully dissipate the sweat breaking out on the back of his neck.

The Monsignor returned to your side quickly albeit timidly now. He eyed you wearily as he gathered some clothes for you, and had to muster up some courage to continue. He stood there just feet from you, and watched you breathe for a moment.

You looked so calm.

Serene.

Beautiful.

But he couldn’t stand there forever. And he knew it would be so much worse if you woke up in the current state you were in versus dressed.

He bowed his head and crossed himself as he muttered a prayer, then inched over to you and gingerly sat beside you. Father Pruitt slipped an arm under your back and rolled your torso into his lap. He focused on the top of your head as he fiddled with the shirt he was now getting over it, and cursed to himself when he had to look for your hands to bring them through the shirt. His ears would have flushed pink if he had been human. He told himself it wasn’t his fault for catching sight of your nipple. It was his fault for noticing that it had become pert in the cold.

John finished with your top as fast as he could, then he guided you back further onto the bed and rested your head on his pillow before glancing down where the towel was draped over your legs. He gripped the sleep pants in his hand like a vice and he gulped down the saliva that pooled on his tongue. The good Father’s hand shook as he took the towel away and instantly looked down at your feet where he started to hook the pants onto you, slowly sliding them up. Up, up, up until he had to finish the last of it a little roughly as he looked away.

The intimacy of it all had his head dizzy. It had been such a strained relationship with you for months now that having you in a state like this made him feel like a perverted old man taking advantage of your state. Of course he knew he wasn’t and that he was just taking care of you, but the guilt remained.

John looked down to inspect his work, and sighed with great thanks that the stressful task was over.

You were washed and dressed and you weren’t bleeding out as badly.

The Monsignor carefully placed a small towel under your head for your damp hair, and brought the thick blanket up over your body; he retrieved an extra one for good measure and laid it over you too. He petted your head for a moment- smoothed his thumb over your forehead to draw an invisible cross there, and read a prayer for your health and forgiveness. He was well aware that he was undeserving, but they prayers came out of habit, and soothed his anxiety of what he had done.

John then pressed a kiss to your temple and left you there to sleep. Your gentle breaths filled the room, and the Father sighed. No doubt you would be spitting fire at him tomorrow, but for now he could admire how innocent and peaceful you looked.

He cast one last look at you as he shut the door, and his mouth twitched into a small smile.

Sunshine.

Hours passed. John watched the sun rise and began writing, then read, then he checked on you, then prayed. Then began the cycle over again. If your shortness of breath and rapid heartbeat was any indicator when he had found you, you must have ran very quickly across the island…that coupled with your blood loss must have exhausted your body. You needed rest.

He had stood guard outside the rectory until twilight began- hand clenching and unclenching. Digging his rosary into his palm. The scales were out of balance, and he hadn’t wanted to rectify that so badly until now. Wanted to find the man likely still healing from the bullet hole in his stomach and make him feel the same fear you felt.

John briefly wondered where you had gotten a shotgun from. A pistol wouldn’t do that damage. Though he supposed it wasn’t entirely foreign that you had one.

He heard you stir and move from inside, and abandoned his post to return to your side; wetting a new cloth to lay on your head.

Now, he was sat on the small couch, and waited. He filed away several passages from the Holy book in his hand- ones that he may enlighten you with should you need it. There he remained until he heard your heart rate pick up again, and the blankets start to rustle. John slowly placed the Bible in his lap, and stared at the pages as he waited. It took a while until you slipped from the bed and your bare feet hit the cold floor. He really should have put some slippers there for you.

He heard you scramble for a moment, most likely grabbing something to throw at him or something to defend yourself with. He understood both. The last thing you likely remembered was laying in his dark cellar as you bled. Now you were in his bed and changed.

Johns suspicions were proven correct when he felt a pair of scissors fly at his head and nick his ear.

He didn’t blame you for a second.

“Good morning.” John murmured calmly as his flesh stitched back together.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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[rollingsins]

all hers, part i

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: “I’d kill everybody in this town before they’d take you away from me.” Tara says, eyes wild. “I’d kill everybody in the world. You belong to me.” ghostface!tara

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, possessive behavior, vaginal sex, murder of an OC character), smut. 

word count: 4.2k

a/n: for anon, who requested some smutty, possessive ghostface!tara. very, very fun to write, let me know if you want me to write some more ;) 

Four murders in seven days. 

It was a nightmare. You’d heard the stories, sure. Seen the movies. But you’d never thought it would actually happen to you. 

That’s what you got for transferring to Woodsboro of all places. 

Your phone buzzes as you finish locking the remaining doors. It’s Tara. You smile instinctively as her name flashes across your screen. 

where are you? still coming over? 

You look outside. It’s dark already, and the thought of leaving the house when there’s a lunatic running around scares the shit out of you. 

not tonight sorry, baby. lost track of time. don’t want to leave Chase here by himself.

You contemplate asking her over. Her sister is in town, and you’d been trying to give them some space to reconnect. Sam was with her, you assured yourself. Besides, the last thing you wanted was her leaving the safety of her home and getting attacked. 

“YN! Popcorn ready?” 

You drop your phone to the counter, check on the popcorn in the microwave. 

Chase had been your first friend at Woodsboro High, before you’d met anyone else, even Tara. Since you’d started dating her, you hadn’t seen him much. He’d asked you over tonight - your parents were out and he didn’t want you on your own. He’d had a hankering, in somewhat bad taste, to marathon the Stab movies. 

It was nice being with Chase again, even under such terrifying circumstances. 

You tell him so. 

“You know why that is, right?” He laughs, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Your girlfriend hates me.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“She does not.” 

“Does too. Every time I see her she gives me these eyes.” 

He squints, twists his face into an angry glare. 

“Like she wants to kill me.” 

“You’re imagining it.” You tell him. 

Throw a kernel of popcorn at him. 

“Uh huh.” He says, turning his gaze back to the movie, “Sure.”

Talking about Tara had always been weird with him. He’d had a thing for you, back in the day, when you’d first met. He’d even asked you out once. But you already had your sights set on Tara and nothing could deter you. He’d taken it well-ish. So you’d thought. 

“How are things going with her, anyway?” His voice casual. You look over. 

“Good.” You say. “Great. Why do you ask?”

He doesn’t look away from the TV. Shrugs, but it’s tense. Like he’s trying to appear more non-committal. You suddenly feel uncomfortable. 

“Just wondering.” 

The movie plays a little, you let awkward silence wash over the room. Peer down at your phone. No response from Tara. Maybe you should have gone to her house after all. 

“I-” He says suddenly, then stops. Purses his lips. 

“What?” 

“It’s nothing.” He says. “Nevermind.” 

You stare. 

“What, Chase?”

“I just get a weird vibe from her sometimes. That’s all.” 

You blink, caught off guard. 

“You don’t know her.” You say, instantly defensive. “There’s no vibe. She’s perfect. She’s the perfect girlfriend.” 

And she was. She picked you up everyday at 8am on the dot to drive you to school. She walked you to class, held your books for you. Showered you with affection. 

“She’s possessive.” Chase says. He’s looking at you now. Words spilling out of him like they’ve been pent up for a while. “You just don’t see it because you’re all moon-eyed for her. It’s not normal. It’s like you're her special toy and nobody else can play with you.” 

“Stop.” You say. 

“She’s isolated you from all your friends.” He continues. “You used to play soccer, remember? What happened to that? What about dance? All the things you used to love. You don’t do them anymore. Your whole world revolves around her.” 

You stand up. A lump rises in the back of your throat. You’d come here to watch movies with an old friend, not have him berate you about your relationship. 

“That isn’t true.” You say, “With school, I just don’t have time for those things anymore-”

“Because when you’re not in school, you’re with her.” He presses. “And she wants you with her all the time. Like I said, possessive.” 

“Great to know how you really feel.” You say. Grab your phone. 

“Sorry, YN. The truth hurts.” He slumps back into his seat, stares at the TV again. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom.” You mumble. 

You open your phone when you reach the bathroom, go straight to Tara’s contact. 

She’s opened your message, but hasn’t replied. 

“Great.” You say aloud. Your perfect girlfriend has left you on read. 

You contemplate calling her, asking her to come get you. No. You chew on your bottom lip. You could just leave, chance an encounter with ghost-face. You decide against it. You’re annoyed with Chase, but not that annoyed. 

You wash your hands. Head back downstairs. Flick Tara another message. 

You’re not mad, are you? Love you. Wish I was with you instead. xx

Chase hasn’t moved. He looks up when you enter, looking a little sheepish. 

“YN-”

“Don’t worry about it.” You say. Sink into the sofa, as far from him as possible. “Let’s just watch the movie.” 

And you do. Forty minutes of cheesy dialogue and bad acting and not a word from Chase. You like it that way. You keep glancing at your phone, waiting for your girlfriend’s response. But nothing. 

The movie’s over. You can hear the credits rolling, but your eyes are drooping. Half gone. Your phone long abandoned, Tara’s reply nowhere to be found. You’re dreaming of Hawaii in the summer. Pina colada in hand. Tara dressed in a bikini, waist deep in the water. Kissing her in the sand, not a care in the world. 

Then you hear the crash. 

Your eyes jerk open. You sit up. Startled. You look around the room. The TV has shut itself off. Chase is nowhere to be found. There are noises coming from the foyer. Your heart beats, fast. You look wildly around the room. You want something to defend yourself with. 

You settle on a small wooden zebra. Some useless ornament only Chase’s mom would decorate with. It’ll do. 

You hear scuffling. More crashing. Then, Chase’s voice, shrill - scared. 

“Please! Stop!”

Your ears ring. Terror rips through you as you make your way into the hallway, quietly as you can. 

Chase is on the floor, writhing, both his hands wrapped around a curved, silver dagger. 

Your stomach drops. 

It’s Ghostface. 

Your bottom lip trembles. You want to run. Scream. Hide. All at once. But you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot, transfixed. 

Ghostface raises his arm, steady. Then slams his dagger straight down and through Chase’s chest. Chase cries out. Blood gurgles from his lips. Ghostface stabs him, twice, then three times. Crazed. Possessed. 

Your body gives way. You let out a scream. Topple backwards into the hallway cabinet. 

Glass smashes around you. Ghostface looks straight at you. 

Your back hurts from the fall. You writhe desperately on the floor, trying to get up. The Zebra has slipped from your fingers. Tears tumble down your face. 

In your peripheral, you see Ghostface abandon Chase. Head straight for you.

You cry out as he makes a grab at you. 

“Stop.” His voice is contorted, unnatural. He’s using a voice-changer. That same awful voice from that dumb movie you’d just watched. You sob as his hands tighten around you. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t struggle.” 

You flop out of his grip, kick up just in time to take the Zebra in your hands. 

“I’m not here for you, stop-” 

Your fingers tighten around the Zebra. You use all your force to smack it hard against Ghostface’s head. You hear him cry out. Fall back. 

You’ve hit him hard. He clutches at his head as he falls back. 

There’s a clang as his mask hits the ground. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your chest seizes painfully. The Zebra in your hand slips out of your grasp and hits the floor. 

“Tara?” 

She looks up at you, her eyes wide, like a deer in headlights. Tears prick at the sides of your eyes. You blink. 

She swallows. Stands upright.  

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” She says. The voice changer is gone. The sound of her voice makes you want to weep, “Don’t be scared.” 

She edges towards you, slowly. As if you’re a baby rabbit that might startle at any moment. You see the gleam of her dagger in her hand. Still wet with blood. 

“Tara.” You say again, voice trembling. You take a step back. Panic floods through you. How can this be happening?

“It’s me.” She assures. “You don’t have to be afraid. Look.” She holds out her hand, drops the dagger to the floor. It careens over the carpet. Stains it with blood. 

She inches closer. You don’t realize just how close she is before she’s reaching out, tugging you into her open arms. Your body locks up. The shock, the panic, the lump at the back of your throat. Everything spills over. You blubber into her chest as she holds you tight. 

“Shhh. It’s okay baby.” She comforts you, hands rubbing tight circles across your back. You want to push her off. You want to run. But you can't, you're frozen, all you can do is bawl. She tilts your head up to her. Rubs her nose against yours. She smells metallic. Like blood. She’s covered in it, you realize with a start. 

You tremble. 

“Don’t be scared.” She repeats. Strokes her fingers along your cheeks. “My pretty girl. I would never hurt you.” 

Her eyes are wild. Pupils blown. No trace of your sweet, loving girlfriend. You don’t recognize the person in front of you. You want her off you. But you don’t dare push her away. She presses you into her. Over her shoulder, you see Chase’s lifeless body. His glassy eyes stare up at you. 

“He’s dead.” You say. Tears leak like acid from your eyes. Tara holds you tighter. 

“I know.” You feel her lips graze the side of your head. She presses a lingering kiss there. “I’m sorry you had to see, darling. I thought you were asleep.” 

A whimper emerges from your lips. Tears fall hot and fast down your cheeks, your hands limp at your side as she holds you. Cradles you. 

“Why?” 

She pauses. You feel her tense. 

“Because they wanted you. All of them. They wanted you, but I’d never let them have you. Because you’re mine.” 

And it clicks. There had been four victims so far. The first was Dan and his brother Sam, both boys you’d known since elementary school. Both who’d had crushes on you. 

Then there was Aaron, your first kiss. Then Sadie, your first girlfriend. 

Your bottom lip trembles. They were all dead because of you. 

Tears roll down your face. Your body starts to shake. 

Tara shushes you, pulls back only slightly to wipe away your tears. She’s so tender, gentle, you almost forget the bloodied body you’d just watch her maim lying in the corner of the room.  

“Don’t cry, sweet girl.” She presses her lips to your forehead. “Here. Look.” 

She steps back momentarily. Shimmies out of her black robes. She’s wearing your old varsity soccer t-shirt underneath. Your sweatpants. The necklace you’d got her for your one year anniversary. She looks like herself again. Your Tara. 

Your bottom lip trembles.

“See. It’s just me.” 

It makes you cry even harder. How could this be real? You’d just watched as your sweet, gentle, loving girlfriend had driven a knife into someone. 

Tara. How could it be Tara? 

“I know, I know, baby. It’s okay.” Her arms are around you again. She holds you as you sob. Every instinct in you screams to run. To get away from this deranged psycho who just killed your best friend in front of you. But you can’t. She’s the only one you want to run to. 

You press yourself into her, tears soaking through her shirt. She cradles you, you feel her lips ghost your forehead. 

“I didn’t want you to find out like this.” She says, “I’m sorry, baby girl. I know it’s a shock.” 

She holds you a while longer. Until your eyes are red and dry, nothing left to cry. Your heartbeat still hammering against your chest. 

What do I do?, You think. Where do I go?

She was calm now, much calmer than you. But that could change in a heartbeat. If you ran, she’d chase you. Maybe even kill you too. That look in her eyes, black, terrifying. You hiccup against her. 

What the fuck do I do? 

 She rubs your back. Draws away from you just enough to wipe the rest of your tears from your face. Lets her fingers linger on your cheeks. 

“Come here.” She dips down before you can protest. Presses her lips to yours. You don’t resist. Electricity flows through your body. Your stomach flutters the way it always does when she kisses you. Your body wants her just as it always does. Guilt flushes through you. You draw back, hold her at arms length. 

“I can’t.” You pull back, a fresh wave of tears rising. Your stomach turns. “I think I’m going to be sick” 

Her hands grip your shoulders. 

“It’s okay. It’s alright. Hey. Look at me.” She’s firm, suddenly. You look up at her through glistening eyes. She softens her voice again, brushes your hair out of your eyes. 

“I’m going to clean this up.” Her head jerks to the body near the corner of the room. “Then I’m going to clean you up.” She strokes the side of your face. Scratches on your cheeks from the glass. 

“And then I’m going to take you to bed and make love to you. Show you just how much I adore you. Alright? Will that make everything better, sweetheart?” 

Revulsion rises in your stomach suddenly. Her hands on you feel heavy. Suffocating. Your cheeks flush hot with emotion. 

“No. Don’t you dare touch me.” You say. You shake off her hands, take a step back. 

The words startle you as much as they startle her. Hurt clouds her features for a moment. She tries to smooth it over, tilting her head. 

“Baby. You don’t mean that.” 

“Yes I do. I don’t want you near me. Not after what you’ve done.” You back up, pressing yourself against the wall. Part of you wants to make a grab for the dagger but she’s too close. Besides, what would you do with it anyway? You weren’t like her. You weren’t a killer. 

Tara blinks. Her eyes fill with something you don’t recognize. 

“You’re just confused.” Tara says, voice hollow. “I know it’s hard to get your head around-“ 

“Please. Go. Just go.”

You’re shaking. Tara stares. Her bottom lip twitches. You recognize what’s behind her eyes this time. Anger. Irritation. 

“You want me to go? After all this. After everything I’ve done for you?” For the first time, her voice is trembling. She looks angry. Hurt. Confused. 

“For me?” You ask. Your voice rises. “You killed my best friend for me?” 

“For us.” She urges. “Don’t you see - there’s no distractions anymore. No one else. No one is going to take you from me.” 

She’s moving closer again. You don’t want her near you. You eye the door, move before she can stop you. 

“YN!” 

You run. Blood rushing in your ears. 

She calls your name again, but you don’t look back. The front door is locked, so you sprint for the back. You can’t think straight, can’t trust your own emotions. So you trust your instincts. 

Run. Run. Run. 

You reach the door, fumble with the handle. Your heart in your throat. You twist it madly, but it doesn’t budge. 

“Come on!” You cry out. You twist again, but it’s too late. 

You feel her hands on your waist as she grabs you. 

You struggle against her, screaming. The sheer force knocks you both over. You scramble up, trying to stand but she’s too quick.  Her hands wrap tight around your waist, pulling you back down to her. She grabs your wrists, holds them tight over your head as she climbs on top of you. 

“Get off me!” You cry, but she doesn’t. Squeezes you down tighter. 

Wild eyes stare down at you. Her eyes, usually the softest brown, are wide, saucer like. Her eyebrows knit together as she pleads.  

“Please, baby, stop.” She begs. “It’s me. It’s just me.” 

She’s smaller than you, but she’s so much stronger. She’s always been stronger than you. It used to be hot, the way she could hold you down with such little effort. Now, it terrifies you. 

You try with all your might to push her off but she only grips tighter. A frustrated sob emerges from your lips. She presses you against the floor. You feel her lips on your forehead as she shushes you.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” She says, voice so tender you almost forget she has you trapped in a vice grip. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“Then let me go.” You wail. Your body goes limp. There’s no point in struggling. She’s too strong. “Please, Tara, just let me go.” 

“I can’t do that, baby.” She says. Her voice soft, almost apologetic, “I love you.” 

You whimper, pathetically. Your mind whirls, going a mile a minute. There’s no way out, you realize. She’s stronger than you. She’s faster than you. And she’s hopelessly and desperately in love with you. She’ll never let you go. 

Your breathing evens out. 

“I love you.” She says again, voice barely above a whisper. 

Her breath is hot, against your mouth. You shudder. She presses her lips to your cheek. Nuzzles her nose into your neck. 

“I love you.” 

Her lips press into your neck. A hot jolt of energy sparks between your legs. Even now, after everything she’s done you can’t help but want her. You start to cry again. 

She tilts herself up. Looks at you, really looks at you. 

Gone is the manic, crazy killer who just chased you down a hallway and stuck a knife in your best friend. Her eyes are wide, that soft, sweet brown they always are. 

There she is. Your first love. Your high school sweetheart. The girl who had taken your virginity. Tara. Your sweet girlfriend, Tara. 

“I love you.” She whispers, a final time. Your heartbeat slows, steady. Your eyes flicker down to her lips. She notices. 

She lingers above you only a moment, before she leans down and captures your lips. 

Heat flushes to your cheeks. Butterflies erupt in your chest.

Warm, warm, warm. 

Is all you feel. 

You groan into her mouth. Confusion flashes through you once again. 

“Stop.” You murmur against her lips. Soft. Half-hearted, like you don’t mean it. She pulls back. 

“Stop?” She asks. Voice low. Like she knows what you’re going to say. 

Your breath hitches. Her hands loosen their grip on your wrists. Her weight on top of you suddenly feels erotic. 

“Don’t stop.” You whisper, and she claims your lips once again. 

Your kisses build, feverish. Desperate. A mesh of lips and teeth and tongue. You loop your hands through her hair, pull her tight against you. 

Her hands loop under your shirt, tug at your jeans. You pull hers off first, wanting her hot and naked against you, groaning at the heat of her skin against your own. 

All thoughts of Chase are gone as you slip your hands into her underwear. She’s wet already, gasps as you circle her clit. You press warm kisses to her jaw. 

She presses you back onto the floor. Tugs your underwear down your legs. Her fingers dip down to your heat. 

“Tara.” You gasp. She nuzzles herself into your neck. Presses, wet, sloppy kisses down your jawline. Her fingers brush your clit before she sinks her fingers inside you. 

She groans. Kisses you deep. 

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight. So wet.”

“Tara.” You gasp. Her fingers curl inside you, her thumb rubbing gently over your clit. She kisses you again. Works her fingers deeper into you. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” She asks. Her voice is graveled, thick with want. You moan out as she hits just the right spot. 

“You like that? You like my fingers inside you?” 

You nod, madly, clawing at her back, trying to pull her closer. 

“I like it too, baby. It’s my favorite thing in the world. I’d do anything to be inside you.” 

Her eyes are black, hazy, lust filled. You kiss her deeply. 

“I’d kill everybody in this town before they’d take you away from me.” She says, eyes wild. “I’d kill everybody in the world. You belong to me.” 

You moan. 

“Tell me.” She says, “Tell me who you belong to.” 

“You, baby.” You gasp. 

“That's right. All mine. Every inch of you.” She growls. Her hand movements are steady. Angry. Pounding into you. Your hips jerk with each thrust, your cheeks red. 

“Nobody else is going to touch you. Not ever. I’m the only one who gets to do this.” She says. Her eyes are starting to blacken again, jealous at the thought of somebody else sinking inside you. 

“No one else.” You pant. “I promise.” 

She growls, takes a nipple in her mouth. Bites down hard. Her fingers drive into your pussy. 

You moan her name. It relaxes her a little. She slows her pace, dipping down to kiss down your stomach. She nuzzles against your thigh, lovingly. 

“Who can blame them?” She says. She reaches up to touch your face, presses a gentle kiss to your belly. Her fingers pump in and out at a steady pace. Her fingers coated in your wetness. “My perfect girl. Always so beautiful. Who wouldn’t want you? I want you all the time.” 

She dips down, presses kisses to the tops of your thighs, rhythm steady as she fucks you. A low moan escapes from your mouth as she licks a long stripe down your center, stopping momentarily to wrap her lips around your clit. 

Your thighs clench around her head but she keeps your legs pried open. She sucks you only a moment before she’s grinning up at you, debauched, slipping a third finger inside your dripping cunt. 

“I wish I could spend every waking moment inside this gorgeous pussy. Always so pretty and tight and wet for me.  Always throbbing around my fingers. Squeezing. Trying to keep me in you, isn’t that right?” 

Her eyes gleam. Her pretty red lips sticky with your arousal. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby? You’d like me to be in you all the time.” 

“Yes.” You groan. 

“Dirty girl.” She chides. Her head dips down again, and you throw your head back as she sucks on your clit, hard. 

She releases you after a moment. Lips back on your thighs, fingers pummeling up into your g-spot. 

Your stomach coils. She sucks on your thigh leisurely, her fingers slamming into you with no mercy. 

“Mine.” She says. “Say it.” 

“Yours. All yours.” 

Her arms grip tight around your waist. She licks her way up your length, not stopping the force of her fingers. 

You throb around her, so close. She presses kisses to your thighs as she works you to the edge. 

“You going to come for me, baby?” She murmurs, lips on your clit, “Good girl. That’s it, sweetheart. Come in my mouth.” 

She sucks your clit, hard, and you topple over the edge. 

Your back arches. You let out a low groan as your orgasm washes over you. She works you though it, lovingly sucking, her fingers curled. 

You slump back onto the floor as she presses kisses to your belly. She keeps her fingers in you as she leans up, kisses you so tenderly. 

“Good girl.” She murmurs. You sigh into her mouth. You can taste yourself on her lips. It’s intoxicating. She presses a kiss to your neck. 

Draws her fingers out of you. You whine. She smiles, sucks you off her fingertips. 

“Don’t worry baby.” She murmurs. Brushes a lock of hair off your sweaty forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Your heart beat slows. She shuffles herself off you.

Wraps herself tight around your waist, drawing you into her. 

Your eyes draw to the robes of the floor. The mask. The dagger. Chase is here somewhere, dead in another room. And you just fucked his killer. 

Shame floods through you. Your body tenses. She can sense it. She turns you in her arms, pulls you into her bare chest. 

“Shh. Don’t look, baby.” She coos. “I’ll clean it up.” 

“He’s dead.” You say. More monotone than anything. In the last thirty minutes you’ve felt every possible emotion you could ever feel. You’ve cried every last tear. You’ve fought and struggled and lost against your own desires. You’re exhausted. 

“It’s alright, babe.” She senses your resignation. Presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Now it’s just you and me. The way it should be.” 

She tilts your face up to hers. You let her press a kiss to your lips. Close your eyes. 

“I’m all yours, baby.” She says. “And you’re mine. Forever.”  

You nod, slowly. 

She is, there’s no point in denying it. 

Next part

[pupyuj]

Rising from my hospital bed to bring you this thought✌️

On a scale of 1-10 how bad are the marks when our Ive girlies (no leeseo she's a 👶) decide to leave hickeys🤔

Like I think some would definitely love recieving more but☝️ when they get jealous 🤭🤫 you'd look like you were attacked by an animal😏

-🧇

HOSPITAL BED?!:!;!:)$ ARE YOU OKAY 😭 regardless.. thank you for this ask anon :] also i’m doing both receiving and giving bcs it’s cute tee hee 🥰 barely a smut but don’t mind me tagging it like it is-

i like to think gaeul doesn’t leave a lot of marks, or at all! don’t get her wrong—she loves the sentiment, sure, but giving you hickeys is the last thing on her mind when she’s kissing your neck 🤭 plus, gaeul thinks you’re way too pretty for her to make a mess out of you so her kisses on your skin are careful and delicate 🥺 oh but when you’re the one marking her up? 🫣 gaeul has no problem becoming your personal canvas if that was the case! she loves waking up in the morning and finding all the marks you’ve left on her neck, chest, stomach, etc. from the night before. it makes her feel giddy 🤭🤭 the members love to tease her about them whenever you’re not around, but gaeul was more than proud to show that she belonged to someone 😵‍💫💓

marking you up is yujin’s favorite pastime 😭 yes, she leaves a lot but she can also be surprisingly discreet with them? shocker, right?! listen, yujin may be an idiot but she’s not stupid! 😤 she wouldn’t let people see that spectacle for free 😉 she favours your chest and stomach, making sure to leave her marks there since she finds it so hot to look at you while you happen to raise your shirt and there they were.. 😵‍💫 once in a while you’d find some strays underneath your jawline since that was yujin’s favorite place to kiss you (other than your lips of course!) but other than that, you’ll find most of yujin’s marks on your boobs heart! 🥺 and now we all know she would absolutely love you leaving hickeys on her neck i mean come on now! only the prettiest sounds leaves yujin’s lips when you’re kissing her neck, encouraging you to mark her up and let people know that ahn yujin was yours 😋 she would absolutely show off too! wearing something that would make her members see all the marks on her neck so she could boast and be annoying about it while you’re covering your face from embarrassment 😭

rei is cool and chill about it all 😼 there'll be two or three hickeys on your neck by the time she's done with you bcs truthfully? her lips would be too busy kissing yours 😵‍💫 rei's so the type to be able to make out for hours just bcs she's addicted to the taste of your lips,, spending such a long time making your head dizzy bcs SHE'S SUCH A GOOD KISSER??? ehe rei especially loooves making out while her fingers are deep inside you,, hearing your muffled moans while her tongue explores every crevice of your mouth just gets her wet! once in a while, she'd kiss down to your neck and leave a few hickeys.. maybe even bites 👀 as for receiving rei would absolutely love to just be full of hickeys from you?? but she'd get shy about it yk? liking the sight of her the marks blooming on her neck the morning after but playfully whining and complaining since you'd tease her for 'getting too lost' and allowing you to do all that 🤭

now… wonyoung will never be able to shake off this need to have her lips on your skin. you thought yujin was bad?? wonyoung is even worse! 😭 behind closed doors, she is always glued to you 🥺 naturally this would lead to a lot of teasing, touching, and the most exciting of all… kissing! how could wonyoung even resist? especially when you wear those off-shoulder tops that you know she loves so much.. you’d be sorting your closet out when you suddenly feel ur cute girlfriend coming up behind you.. and it’s innocent for a few minutes until she’s feeling you up and planting wet kisses from your shoulder to your neck.. the moment a sound escapes your lips, she’s putting you on top of the nearest surface and biting and sucking on your skin 😵‍💫 and she loves staring at her work afterwards! you just look so pretty.. it’s easy to get her core buzzing just from the sight of you after she’s messed you up 🥴🥴 BUT as much as she loves all of that, wony definitely likes getting marked up by you more 🤫 part of it is bcs of all the sweet things you whisper against her skin when you’re kissing her.. how she’s yours, how much you love her, and (when you’re feeling extra possessive 😳) how she belongs to you.. wony proudly looks at the hickeys through the mirror afterwards and sometimes even plays w herself w the image of you in her mind…

sweet little liz gets so shy when it comes to these things 🥺🥺 baby could barely attempt to kiss you without exploding (almost literally 😭 we’ve all seen how red her face can get right? 😭😭) but sometimes she’s heated enough to be bold! 😋 the two of you would be cuddling, she’d have an arm draped around your waist then you’d suddenly feel her hand slide underneath your shirt and caress your skin… see, liz does that a lot! so much so that you’re used to it but what you’re not used to is suddenly feeling her kiss and suck at your neck.. no shit it feels good and adding on to the fact that it caught you by surprise, a single whimper would have liz straddling you and desperately kissing you all over 🥺 might actually be the one who leaves the worst hickeys among all of the girls? 😭 she gets swept up by her needs so she’s careless with the way she kisses you.. and so your neck becomes liz’s personal artwork 🤭 she definitely apologizes the next morning while you’re laughing at her but you both know that it’s such a huge turn on for both of you 😳 and i just know she’d be the cutest when you’re the one kissing her 😵‍💫 she squeals, moans, whimpers, and quietly asks for more… you wouldn’t expect it from her at all but liz definitely loooves being made a mess of 🤭 (that just gives me a few ideas-)

[kk43mi]

needy┊kabukimono

PAIRING ┊ kabukimono x f!reader(dom-ish) GENRE ┊smut WC ┊ 1.2k+ WARNINGS ┊ obsessive behavior , somnophilia , clinginess , pussy eating , fingering , blowjob , good boy , lowercase intended!!! SYNOPSIS ┊ the first time you gave a blowjob to kabuki, he became obsessed with the feeling and pleasure. always asking for more and more, at the wrong time and place, outside at the woods? he wanted it. other people were around? he wanted it. you were busy with work? he wanted it. A/N ┊ written by kam , hope you guys enjoy ! been thinking about this for a long while, time to let it out. a little drabble btw!

the first time you gave a blowjob to kabuki was when he asked about it, he heard about people talking about getting into the act of intimacy and that made him all flustered.

he got all shy and fidgeting with his fingers asking if he could do it too. "n-niwa was talking about doing stuff like...I dont know...like the thing...its embarrassing.."

of course you had to help your poor baby out, guiding him to the bedroom and taking his clothes off for him. he gets all shy saying "do i have to be naked...?" he asks so innocently.

"yes, now relax you wanna do this right?" you would reassure him and he would nod.

moaning and shuddering out of pleasure when your tongue starts kitten licking his tip, making him seeing stars already, hips bucking upwards as his back arch in an impossible angle.

the way his tip was inside your mouth had him whining and whimpering. "a-ah! so-so good..! mgh..mmgnh-!!"

and thats when he lost it as his whole cock was inside your mouth, touching the deep parts of your throat. which makes you gag a couple times, but he holds onto your head for leverage, gripping a handful of your hair, trying to withstand the pleasure.

hes so cute trying to hide his little whines and moans by biting his bottom lips, maybe a little blood trickling down mixed in with his drool.

he came on the spot,since this was his first time initiating in any kind of action, it wasn't surprising. but you swallowed it all, gulping down the white substance. hips shaking, and he let out the most pornographic moan ever.

"that-that felt so good y/n...one more..?" he asks so innocently and you let out a chuckle. "one wasn't enough?" he shakes his head as he pleas for another one.

and from there on, he always asked for you to pleasure him. even when you got back from work he would get up from his seat jumping up to you in thrill. giving you a tight hug and kissing your lips.

"y/n! youre back youre back! can we do it now? pleaseeee? ive been waiting all day..." he would pout.

"eh..but we did it yesterday already-and it was the first time...you got addicted..?" you would laugh it off but he wasnt having it. "noo pleaseeee, i havent released the whole day...need you.." he would say before rubbing himself on you.

"but im worn out...next when im free alright?" you try your best to convince, but all he did was pout and cry.

"dont you love me? cmon ill just do all the work this time!" he whines and you just sigh in defeat.

"alright fine...just only one time." he would nod before dragging you to the bedroom, already taking yours and his clothes off.

"n-ngh-! ah-fuck.." you moaned out as he ate your pussy out as if he hasn't eaten in years. slurping and licking your folds, sucking on your clit. "so good~ you taste so good..." he would mutter out.

he was always so hungry for your pussy, always chowing down on it as if there was no tomorrow. eating your pussy out as he rubbed his cock against the mattress to get some friction. even if you were begging him to slow down and trying to get away sometimes, he would just pull you back in by the thighs and eat you out.

if you were tired he would just do everything just so he could cum. bottoming out as he inserted his cock inside. makes him whine in pleasure, he couldnt help but move on the spot! thrusting himself at a fast pace while he kissed you with both elbows resting on both sides of your head.

you would whine, telling him to please slow down but he just couldnt! your pussy felt too good, squeezing so tight and good around his cock, you can basically feel him twitching, knowing he was close.

"gonna cum...! cum..cum cum cum!" he said as his thrusts gets sloppier and faster. "ah-wait not inside!" you screamed out but he kept going till he would reach his high. "kabuki!"

he would finally pull out, cumming on your stomach, and even on your face. then you squirting on his cock and stomach as both of the individuals could be heard trying to catch up their breath. but you can feel him sliding his cock on your folds.

"one more..p-please.." he would stuttered before pushing back in which had you arching. already sensitive from the orgasm you had. a long night soon awaited you.

you loved kabuki, but sometimes he would just annoy you by crying and whining when he didn't get what he wanted. even if you both were shopping for food at the markets, he would get needy, holding onto your arm and already grinding on your thigh.

"'m needy....please..now." you would sigh telling him nows not the time. but he then starts whining, crying which brought attention from other shoppers and it had you embarrassed until you dragged his arm, bringing him to a empty secluded place, behind some strangers house...sure there were other people too but less than the markets.

"god you irritate me so much..." you would say before taking his pants off, then flipping him to the wall, to where his ass stuck out. prodding two fingers around the rim of his ass. he would whimper at the feeling scratching onto the walls of the white concrete.

then finally inserting it inside of him, he would let out a slutty moan, almost loud enough for people to come. thrusting your fingers in and out of him, curling them at the ends, poking at his good spot.

"mmnggh-! nghh ahh~!" kabuki would let out with no shame, not even caring if people heard him, he just felt too good!

"quiet down, or else people will see." he nods and obeys obediently, biting his bottom lip to contain his moans from slipping out. "good boy." you praised him before stroking his cock. and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, moaning and saying incoherent sentences, drooling at the pleasure he was getting.

thrusting your fingers in and stroking his cock was already enough for him to cum on the spot, making a mess on the wall, coated with white sticky cum. leaving him breathing heavily.

sometimes there would be days where youre too tired to even do anything, denying his requests of doing it so you can get some rest, sure it takes some convincing but then he would just pout and say "fine!" with a needy tone.

but little did you know, he would just wait until you passed out, just so he could take your clothes off and insert in his cock in your hole. thrusting in and out, skin slapping skin, just the feeling of your pussy pulsating around his cock. he always got off to the feeling of it and could cum immediately.

after that you would scold him for creating a mess when you were asleep, always feeling sticky and having to clean up.

when you guys had your intimate moments, and this time you told him he could cum inside, he couldn't hold in his excitement. saying "r-really?! okay! ill cum inside..." the thought of cumming inside you always excited him.

there when he first came inside he was so addicted to the feeling. after that he just couldnt stop cumming inside you, your pussy felt too good for him to stop, he would go on and on till his cum was basically translucent.

you would have to be the one initiating in aftercare, always so tired whenever he came multiple times...what did he expect. you would clean yourself and him up, then relaxing in a calming silence of cuddling and telling endearments to which kabuki would command.

requests open!

[its-all-papaya]

wait i have to add: "I'll write that injury landoscar for you down the road as an apology" NO IT WAS PERFECT THANK YOU !!! but i won't say no to injury landoscar so if you want to write it 👀 (i would be happy!) that's an ask i'd like for the I wish you would write a fic where... ask game tbh!

maybe like. one of them hears that the other crashed or sees it happen and finishes the race on autopilot, frantically asking if the other is okay over the radio and not getting a straight answer (like ferrari: we are checking) and after the race not giving a SHIT, running directly to where he's told by someone the other is although maybe having a podium finish? or media duties?, ignoring everyone on the way there and then seeing they're alright and just. taking the biggest breath ever known. and being overwhelmed? and then just. kissing him in front of the medics? idk. but! it could also be soft, finding the other after all the media duties and after the other was cleared for visitors and they're sitting there under shitty hospital lighting, one of them cracking jokes about being not life-threateningly injured and the other just shaking because he could've LOST him and it all suddenly shifts and makes sense in his head and there's never been a world in which losing the other wouldn't break him. and then it's the most important thing in the world to be able to taste the breath in the other person's lungs and feel his heartbeat quicken and have PROOF that he's alive and warm and not dead. is this too much? probably. but i'm DYING to hear your thoughts on how YOU would write it PLEASE!!

Okay, yeah, Landoscar injury fic lfg, let's do this. Here's how I'd do it:

The thing about me is I always have to have An Angle. I can't write straight-up fluffy comfort, I've gotta make the characters THINK first. So this is kind of not the exact same as your description, but I think I'd write it from the POV of injured Oscar. Hear me out, hang on.

tell me what you wish I'd write

So Oscar gets hurts in a crash and he's sent to the hospital, obviously. The whole way out of the car and on the way, he's like... not panicking, but not feeling well at all. Nothing makes rational sense in an ambulance, everything feels high-stakes and scary and serious and the shock is still setting in, so he can't process that well. Oscar obviously isn't very open about how he's feeling, usually, either, so being noticeably affected by things is just more stress on top as he fights to keep the cool, calm demeanor people expect out of him.

See, generally, Oscar tries not to need too much from anybody. But he's hurt and a little scared and lonely and the lingering shock combined with whatever's in his IV drip is making his emotions stronger and closer and not anywhere near as manageable as normal. Kim is there, but Oscar wants Lando telling him jokes and giving him soft eyes and holding his hand and telling him it's going to be okay, because Lando always knows how to handle new situations Oscar hasn't been in yet. And Oscar's trying so so hard to be normal about it all, but he's actually Not Okay.

I wasn't around for Vegas '23 (ironic because I was accidentally in Vegas hours after the GP, but I didn't follow F1 yet, so) but I've read a lot of post-vegas fic and it's all cute and needy Lando, which is a great genre. But I think I'd set that as Oscar's mental backdrop for this. Because they weren't even them yet in Vegas, weren't like they are now, and even still Lando asked for Oscar in the hospital and had no problem reeling him in by the hand and taking comfort from him when he needed it. And they're much closer now! Lando definitely cares a lot about him! Oscar knows that! So why is he so nervous to just ask for him?

Oscar would spend a decent amount of time trying to figure out how to ask Kim to get Lando there: thinking up excuses for why he needs Lando for something specific, reasons it makes sense, or why it might benefit everyone, but when he finally gets up the nerve to just ask, Kim is like "?? yes? Lol. Obviously Lando is coming. He's been asking about you nonstop, drove both Will and his press officer up a wall asking for updates every five seconds. He's texted me 400 times in the last 20 minutes. Lando is for sure coming, you actually don't really get a say in that one. Silly goose."

Oscar is usually so unbothered, but as soon as Lando shows up, he knows it's going to be a struggle not to lose it, because like... Lando's in the door looking adorable and concerned and Oscar NEEDS Lando so much closer. Immediately. He needs Lando holding his hand and petting his hair and whispering to him even though they don't even really do those things normally.

And Lando's worried, so he gets to Oscar's bedside and is restless. Hand on the covers, eyebrows pulled together, trying to straighten things and fluff pillows and asking about Oscar's pain levels and where he's hurt and eventually he just goes "Fuck, Oscar, can I just- I need to hug you. Please. Is that okay?"

Lando's so gentle with it, trying not to hurt his boy, but Oscar like... cannot hold it together. And so he starts breathing a little funny in his effort not to cry or do anything to show how everything is hitting at once, how he wants Lando, but Lando of course notices that something is wrong. Probably assumes he's hurting Oscar, so he pulls back, but that's the opposite of what Oscar wants. So suddenly, horrifyingly, he's tearing up, and that makes Lando panic more because he's probably never seen Oscar cry. Didn't think that was a thing Oscar did. And Oscar's shaking his head, and his heart rate monitor does not sound normal, and Lando's like "...shit. Fuck. Do you need me to call the nurse?" and Oscar is like "no, just come back. please, lando."

Lando goes, obviously, sits on the side of Oscar's bed and picks up Oscar's hand in both of his own and starts rubbing his wrist a little and saying "hey, it's okay, buddy, I've got you, I'm right here. Deep breaths, you're gonna be okay, I'm not going anywhere."

It should feel patronizing, being talked to like that, but instead it takes the anxiety back down a few notches, outside the range of imminent panic. Oscar feels like a little child again, needing to be held after scraping his knee, but he does. Need to be held, that is. So he's fighting this internal battle between needing comfort and wanting to be good and normal about the situation, and his control is softened by his pain meds so he can't school his expressions as well as normal, and soon Lando’s asking “What is it? You need more pain meds? Kim? What do you need, Osc?”

SNIPPET TIME CONGRATS !

Oscar can’t look at Lando when he says it, but he finally manages to mumble “can you come lay with me?” at the ceiling. Lando doesn't spare him a moment to second-guess before he's kicking off his shoes and climbing up, arranging Oscar's limbs a little so they’ll both fit. His arm’s around Oscar’s shoulders in a blink, and everything’s a little less overwhelming when Oscar can turn his chin just a little and smell Lando’s body wash, can twitch his fingers and touch the soft hem of Lando’s sweatshirt. Reality gets a little more tangible again, and Oscar thinks it's funny, how he feels a fraction more himself when he's pressed to Lando's side.

The beep of the heart-rate monitor fades back into ambient noise as it settles towards normal. Or normal for them, Oscar supposes. In the middle of his contemplating, Lando starts tracing the vein on the soft side of Oscar's arm, wrist to the crook of his elbow. Two fingers, one on either side, raising goosebumps across the exposed skin. The disconnect the crash had rattled into Oscar's brain shifts a little under Lando's attention, gets a little floatier and a little less disorienting. He's getting sleepier, and it's probably the last of the IV bag dripping steadily through the back of his hand, but it's nicer to believe it's Lando, chasing the drugs up towards his heart with those same two fingers. Oscar gives up one more piece, a little more control, as he snuggles a little deeper into Lando's side. He's allowed to, he thinks. Here. Like this. Lando must agree, because he hums happily at the movement and hugs Oscar even closer. Through the fog in his brain, Oscar thinks he feels lips at his temple.

"Thank you," he mumbles into the collar of Lando's t-shirt.

"Of course," Lando says, and "thank you. It's nice. To lay like this. Was worried about you."

And then, after a long moment of silence, "It's okay to need things, Osc. From anybody, but especially from me. There's not a lot I wouldn't do for you. Okay? You can always ask."

Oscar frowns, because "I don't need anything, it's not like that." His forehead wrinkles as he bats the exhaustion back. The excuse is sitting at the tip of his tongue, but he can't quite feel it out.

Lando gives him a second, then takes over again. It's a reversal, Lando finding Oscar's words for him, thumbing worries away like sweaty hair from his temple.

"It's also okay to want things, Oscar."

Oscuh.

Oscar, feeling a little braver or maybe just a little less afraid, palms his way across Lando's stomach, curls his hand around Lando's side, taps his fingers against the warm space below Lando's ribs.

"What do you want, baby?" Lando asks into the skin above his ear.

Oscar lifts his head a little, blinks through his lashes up at his teammate. He's hallucinating, or the concussion is worse than they thought, because there's no way that those words are coming out of Lando's mouth in that tone with nobody to hear them but Oscar himself. Lando's fingers drag a bit firmer against his wrist, the catch of nails sending little shivers through Oscar's limbs.

Oscar remembers Las Vegas, remembers how the same fingernails had left little white half-moons in the back of his hand, how they had taken hours to fade, and he gets it, finally.

Lando's fingers come to rest in the middle of Oscar's wrist, right over his pulse.

"Stay? Please?" Oscar says. The lips on his temple are firmer this time, impossible to explain away. "Until I can go," he adds. Lando's still pressing little kisses down the side of his face, so Oscar sums up the rest of his courage and finishes with, "And tonight." He doesn't say forever, but it's only a breath away.

And then Lando takes him home and takes care of him and it's soft and cute and Lando falls asleep listening to Oscar's heartbeat and kisses him awake in the morning and makes sure he takes his pills and he heals up and they become boyfriends the end <3

Thank you for the ask !! And for the compliments in general !! Hope this was nice for you even though it was STILL not desperate. I'm too Soft (TM).