#pain killer tablet for back pain

[zopicloneinuk]

https://buyzopicloneinuk.com/product/pregabalin-capsules-300-mg/

Anticonvulsant medications known as Pregabalin Capsules 300mg are used to treat neuropathic pain. The medication lessens pain brought on by diabetes, shingles, injuries, etc. By preventing the brain from receiving pain signals from the injured nerve cells. Pregabalin is a long-lasting pain reliever that is also administered to fibromyalgia patients to provide relief from pain, fatigue, and other symptoms.

[faunandfloraas]

That was straight up wildest doc appointment I've ever had, get this- he listened to me when I spoke, asked pertinent questions, was sympathetic AND helpful. Did you guys know this was a possibility? Did you know doctors could actually do their job without making it painful??

[tardis--dreams]

Love to hear to "not worry" about traveling with medication from someone who doesn't depend on medication ♡

[rainrot4me]

Clean Knife, Bloody Blade

Summary: When you refuse to get out of bed due to terrible cramps, Jeff tries his best to coax you back. But when you cry and whine to him, the killer presses to resolve your problem, willing to do whatever he can to help…

Characters: Jeff the Killer x Menstruating Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Menstruation, period sex, vaginal with a dildo, toy play, vaginal, mentions of organs, blood, desperation, blood kink, teasing

Words: 3.2k

Jeff was terrible at showing affection.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love you, you knew he did, but to others, they could’ve never guessed. He was always upset, always brooding about something minuscule that would give him an excuse to snap and shrug others off. He was terrible company. But with you, even though subtle, he was calmer and had his head more on his shoulders than normal if you were around.

A calloused hand grasped around your wrist or a half-assed peck on the cheek indicated his affection. To anyone else, it would’ve looked like he was annoyed or had no desire to love you at all, but you knew that this was him trying his hardest to show his feelings. Even though the lack of cuddles and soft compliments itched at you sometimes, Jeff more than made up for it with the bloody carcass of some guy who catcalled you lying on your doorstep or the new pistol he had swiped for you on a mission. Jeff loved you in his own way, and you were more than grateful that he even tried at all, despite what others said.

Jeff always tried his hardest for you, tried more than he cared to for anyone else. And that stood true even now, as you laid in the bed squirming your pain and groaning into his pillows. Jeff was practically clueless. He knew what was happening and that it was nature, but it didn’t make it more comfortable to fuss with you over how dramatic you were being. Or to watch you sob and moan about some blood. Jeff dealt with blood every day, he just didn’t get the theatrics.

Until you began to cry, gripping your stomach as you wore his hoodie and sobbed into his pillow, whining your little heart out. The pale killer was stunned, awkward even as he tried to console you, trying to brush the tears from your eyes. “Just go get Jack. Tell ‘em to get me something.” You whined, rolling over and tugging the covers higher onto your shoulder. 

Jeff cringed, scurrying out of his room and down the hall, shooting for EJ’s lab in the hopes that he would have a better chance at getting you to stop than he could. Normally, Jeff would’ve been annoyed, pissed that you preferred to see some other guy than him, but right now he just wanted you better.

-

“And what does she want me to do about it?” Jack groaned, shuffling through some forceps and scalpels to neatly cut open the human stomach he was working on, trying to push the leftovers of the victim’s last meal out before nibbling on a strip of the raw meat. Jeff cringed, groaning at the way it popped as it tore, squishy in the demon’s mouth. “I don’t fuckin’ know? Just figured you���d be better at this than me. All medical and shit…” The killer scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets, chewing at the tear on his lip. He hated compliments, hated trying to butter someone up, but he sucked it up. 

Jack chuckled, pulling his mask back down over his chin before moving, shuffling through a cabinet nestled above his messy desk. There were all sorts of pills inside, little orange and green translucent bottles that read ‘Wright’ and scribbled doctor’s signatures. How someone was giving Jack all of this medicine Jeff didn’t care to ask, he only noticed when Jack pulled down some painkiller in a white bottle, little pink tablets falling out. 

“Ibuprofen. Give ‘er like three. Maybe some food too, bad to cramp on an empty stomach.” The commands were giving Jeff whiplash, shoving the bottle into his pocket and staring as Jack circled back to his unfinished plate. “If that doesn’t work, try telling her to masturbate.” 

Jeff almost ran into the wall on his way out. What in the actual hell? Jeff tried to laugh as he turned, thinking Jack was joking but his expression was unwavering, gnawing on the tendon of a stomach valve as he smiled. Jeff couldn’t even be mad, stunned more than anything as he let his face show his confusion, letting his mouth hang open. “It’s true. Lulu told me one time. Helps with muscle tension or something. I read up on it a bit but wasn’t relevant to me, so I didn’t care. Guess it’s useful now.” Jack smiled, turning back to his plate and shooing Jeff out, shutting the door behind him as Jeff’s eyes remained wide and stunned, finally clenching his teeth and stomping up the stairs. 

You took the pills easily, letting Jeff convince you to eat a muffin before laying back down, groaning as you gripped his arm, legs curled into yourself. He stared down at you, awkwardly gnawing away at the thought Jack had set in his head. Masturbating? While you were bleeding? There was no way that could be enjoyable. But as you nudged your head against his side, wrapping your arms around his waist and pawing at this shirt, Jeff groaned, rubbing your back. 

Normally you were a little live wire, a little ball of energy that combatted his anger perfectly. You were perfect for him, emotionally and physically. But seeing that little ball of excitement cripple and falter under your pain made him upset, angered that he couldn’t do anything more. He hated seeing you like this, no matter how reluctant he would be to admit it. Jeff wasn’t a sappy guy, far from it, but right now he would do anything to make his girl feel better.

He started slow, nervous that you’d be too overstimulated to even want him to touch you as he rolled you onto your back, pressing down to kiss along your cheeks. You lay confused, squirming as his hands rubbed your sides, gently gripping and soothing your hot skin. “Jeff… Quit…” You groaned as he pecked your lips, tucking your hair behind your ears as he tugged his hoodie over your head. “Chill out.” He nipped, pressing his rough lips against your soft ones and purposefully holding yours down, calming your reluctant body as he rubbed at your stomach, kissing against your jaw. Your skin was hot, clammy against his hands as he pushed your shirt up, you finally realizing what he was doing.

“Jeff.” You grit, shoving him off as you sat up, irritated that he would even try right now. Jeff awkwardly tried to explain, rubbing your arms as he settled you back onto the bed, standing up to grab a towel in his closet. “Listen. Jack gave me some advice or somethin’. Said jerking off helps with your cramps. We don’t gotta, but…” Jeff also reached for the small bag you kept in his closet, tugging it open and tugging out a dildo around his size, awkwardly shoving the bag back into the closet as you watched, cheeks already flushing. “Jeff, it's nasty.” You warned, bringing your knees to your chest and sliding back as Jeff stood at the edge of the bed, lying the items down before continuing to kiss along your face. “Baby, I cut people up. I think I’ll be okay.” He snickered, lying you back down onto his bed.

You nervously laid, squirming your legs together as Jeff pressed between your knees, standing at the end of the bed. He tugged up your hips, sliding the towel underneath you as he pressed his cool hands along your arms, trailing them up into your shirt as he nipped into your neck. You sighed, skin hot and cunt already bothered as you tried to pry your knees tight around his waist. This was going to be weird regardless, your anxiety about the whole thing shining through as Jeff tugged your shirt over your head, palming at your boobs until you were tugging his hands away. “Sensitive.” You hissed, letting his hands fall back at your hips.

He grit, tugging your shorts down and smiling as you shyly closed in on yourself, turning your face into the sheets as he hooked them off of your ankles. He could already see the blood stained onto your panties, your pad doing little against it. Personally, you wanted to die, embarrassment hooking your every whine as Jeff hooked under your panties, tugging them down and gently massaging your thighs, letting you calm down. It was messy, sure, but the killer knew what he was getting himself into. 

You refused to look at him, knees hugged tightly to his sides as he cleaned the blood staining your folds gently as your pelvis ached, cunt tingling under you as Jeff leaned in to kiss your lips, reassuring you coldly. “You’re fine. Stop movin’ so much. It’s just blood.” This was as close as he was getting to gentle, but his words soothed you all the same. You still hid in the sheets, letting Jeff clean your inner thighs as he massaged along your leg, efforts reluctant as you just leaked more. 

The sight of your cunt covered in blood didn’t particularly turn Jeff on, but it didn’t disgust him either. It was just you, that stupid personality and all-too-caring attitude that he loved, he didn’t really care what you looked like in turn. He didn’t really mind what was going on between your legs, just as long as he was one of them. 

“Open up. There ya go.” He chimed, reaching for the dildo and pressing it to your mouth, beckoning you to listen. You obliged, spreading your lips around the girth and licking along the underside, soaking the silicone in your saliva. Jeff didn’t force it, didn’t push it to make you gag like he loved to do, just let it soak. He smiled at you, nudging his thumb between your folds and pressing against your clit, letting you groan against the toy as he felt your knees loosen around his hips. You had never done anything on your period, always so grossed out and irritated to try, but you could already just feel the difference. It was so much more intense, clit so sensitive under the pad of his thumb that you were holding your eyes shut, hips falling and rising against the movement of the digit. It was heavenly, and Jeff noticed, smiling as you practically ground yourself up against him. “Feel good?” He teased, tugging the dildo out of your mouth and sliding it against your stomach, saliva wiping against your warm skin. You nodded, sighing as he pressed up, hips catching and stuttering against it. 

Jeff slid the dildo against your folds, blood catching on the tip and spreading against your inner thighs. He smiled, enjoying how easy it was to push his knee under your thigh and open you up more, movements too lost in the feeling of the dildo halted against your entrance. Jeff held his thumb still, letting the dildo that was a little smaller than his own size begin to push into your aching cunt, cramps pushing out of the way and slowly fading into pleasure as the toy pressed into you. You groaned, a desperate ache of pain and pleasure soaking in as the dildo snugged your walls, pressing against your sensitivity. It just felt so good, entrance aching around the size but the thumb swiping against your clit made up for it. 

When Jeff’s fingers gripped around the base of the dildo and touched your folds, you knew it was bottomed out, cunt clenching tight around the intrusion. “Took it good, yeah? Basically pulled it in.” Jeff laughed, tugging the dildo out before slowly rocking it back in, angling the silicone up so it pressed just right against your swollen walls. You whined, back instantly pushing off of the mattress and arching into the feeling, the slowness tearing you apart. “Oh, God-” You groaned, tugging the sheets hard as Jeff fucked you painfully slow with the toy, watching close at how your body moved with it, hips rolling at every push of his hand. He had found a new kink just now, unfortunately. 

The killer continued to fuck you with the dildo, contorting and tugging the length so it stretched you nicely, thumb effortlessly making you flinch and squirm as he watched blood slowly leak from your tight entrance, pooling beneath you. It was satisfying, really, the further he pushed the toy the more blood spilled. In Jeff’s sicko brain, it reminded him of stabbing someone, digging his knife in and watching the blood just run, smiling at the irony of it all. He pushed harder.

You were loud now, tears running down your cheeks as you gasped at every shove of the dildo, sensitivity riding on every ounce of pleasure that overwhelmed your senses. Jeff was lost, busy watching your cunt and your screwed-up face, and couldn’t hear your silent sobs to stop or slow down, him only pushing harder. “Jeff- God- Wait, I’m… I think- Ah-” You mewled, letting your cunt squeeze down hard against the toy, walls aching as you came, body squirming and writhing as Jeff still bobbed it in and out as your cunt gushed. It took you sitting up, palming at his shoulders before he would stop, barely even realizing you had came until you were sobbing into his shoulder, dildo slipping out of your soppy cunt as you palmed at his jeans, his boner beckoning you. “Not… not enough. Need it.” You whined, words so jumbled and head so light Jeff thought you were losing it, eyes going wide as he realized what you meant. You still ached, still coming down from your orgasm but walls needing more, needing that relief from the pain again.

“Shit- Ah- Okay. Shit.” Jeff jumbled, stuttering as you eventually tugged his cock out of his jeans and began to stroke, leaning back and tugging him closer. He barely even had time, barely could get hard before you were holding his hips and begging him to push in, blood and your own arousal seeping around the tip of his cock nestled between your folds. “Okay, yeah. Shit-” He couldn’t even think to get a condom, couldn’t tell himself you were probably too post-nut high to realize you were too overwhelmed, but with those big eyes staring at him and your flushed cheeks pouting, he couldn’t help but groan his arousal as he pressed in. 

It was warm. Like, warmer than normal, warm. And you were tight too. Your walls fluttered around his cock, swelling against the length that curved and nudged deeper than the dildo, head falling back into the mattress as you moaned out. Jeff cursed, fists gripping your hips tight as he sunk in, watching the blood pool around his cock and seep down onto the towel, your entrance twitching and tightening with every inch that entered. “Needy, huh? You’re so tight, God-” He grunted, straining as he bottomed out and let your hips squirm against his, already beckoning him to move. It was like you were in heat, body more focused on how fast you could cum again than if you even wanted to. It turned Jeff on terribly bad. This version of you was exciting.

Like the dildo, he let his hips rock, bending his knees to angle into your cunt better and sink against your g-spot so nicely, leaving your arms clasped into his hair and dragging him down on top of you. Your skin was so hot, flushed deep as he locked his lips onto yours, rocking his hips into your soppy cunt and relishing in the way it gushed around him. He pushed up, digging his knees into the mattress and letting your thighs wrap around his back, his cock sinking further down and into you as your body contorted under him. You were scrunched, clasping onto his body desperately as you chased another orgasm, stomach fluttering and hips rocking with every movement. “So good- Can’t… Can’t hold on- Faster-” You huffed between slobber-filled kisses, letting Jeff dig his palms into the sheets underneath you and push his knees in deeper, letting his hips pull up much further and sink down just as deep. You were practically purring, mouth hanging open as Jeff bit into your jaw, nibbling the skin as he panted against you, shoving his cock into the hot glove of your cunt. 

“Beg me to fuck you and you’re still not satisfied. Jesus, woman.” Jeffrey grit through pants, leaning back off of you and digging his hands into your waist, tugging his legs further apart to open yours more before snapping his hips into your warmth, hearing the loud squelch and squirts as you writhed, moaning into your hands. Jeff smiled, clawing his hands to your tits and palming hard, letting you scratch and whine at his grasp about sensitivity and to let off, but he refused. You were so sensitive, so overwhelmed that the ache in your pelvis practically vanished, pleasure rippling through your body as you arched and squirmed against the cock quickly pressing down against every inch of your gummy walls. You were cumming again, sobbing as you scratched Jeff’s muscled arms and held on tight, letting his cock fuck you through your desperate orgasm and fight against the overstimulation that crept through your body. 

“There ya go, just like that. Don’t even gotta worry.” Jeff mewled, letting his cock sink deep and rest in your cunt, your walls clenching hard around him, fluttering as he twitched and ached inside of you, restraining to cum until your sobs quieted, little whines and gasp all that was left. “Did so good.” He grits as he tugged his cock out, the length soaked and stained in your blood and arousal, fist quick to grasp around and pump himself over you, watching as you panted with heavy eyes. The blood stained his hand, smearing as he came against your folds, letting his seed run and mix with your blood as he groaned, palming at your thighs. “Fuck.. yeah…” He smiled, rubbing his tip against your clit for good measure before tugging back, scooping the messy towel out and cleaning what he could. 

You were too sleepy to hear the bath run in the room over, body still twitching and relaxing as your cramps stayed at a dull roar now, pleasure overtaking them. Jeff scooped you up, his body bare now as he stripped the rest of your clothes, cutting the faucet off before sliding you both into the large tub, letting your back rest against his chest. You mewled, leaning back against his shoulder and letting your eyes flutter shut, rubbing the arms that wrapped around your waist. “Thank you.” You sighed, the hot water soothing your body nicely. “It was hot, so worth it.” Jeff chuckled, tucking your hair out of the way as he kissed your forehead. 

You knew he cared. He had strange ways of showing it, ever reluctant to become soft and vulnerable. But you relished the moments where he got close, like now. Maybe Jeff wasn’t the most affectionate, sappy guy to have, but it was more than enough for you. 

Even if he was terrible at showing affection, the dedication to you more than paid its part. 

This was a request by @bubbleduckie!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[everlastingdream]

The first time it happened, all agents took their weapons out the moment Lena entered the building like she owns it.

Alex considered firing everyone who let her past the guard post and then shoot her. In the leg. Maybe.

"Take it", Lena threw something at Brainy, who somehow was completely calm. It relaxed Alex too, since Brainy was an expert on calculating danger level of everyone.

And then Lena just turned around and exited the DEO, like she was dropping of their lunch or something. And she was still fighting with Kara!

"What the hell, Luthor!?" Alex shouted to her back, only to recieve resolute "Shut up!" in return.

Alex sputtered, because: excuse me, but you came to the secret underground goverment facility like to your own office! Brainy muttered something, tinkering with the thing Lena brought.

"It's anti-kriptonite suit", he said in wonder, already running some simulations on his tablet. "She shouldn't has figured this out for ahother five years".

"Brainy, test this thing in every way you can, and if it's safe, take it to Kara immediately", Alex grumbled, but her sister's safety was more important than Luthor's strange wims.

/ / / / / / / / / /

Next time everyone still grabbed their weapons, but wasn't ready to shoot just yet, as Lena angrily stormed into the building. Perhaps it was because despite her stare she complied with every security measure guards asked of her.

Which didn't stop her from slamming thick file into Alex's chest.

"What the hell, Luthor!?" Alex saw how Brainy grabbed Nia's hand to stop her from standing up.

"Shut up", Lena returned, as she went back without any explanation.

Alex was left with papers and strange sense of deja-vu.

Looking through evidence on their resent villain and drafts of some devices to counter his powers, Alex thought about how Lena always choose time when Kara was absent from the building.

/ / / / / / / / / /

When they reached fifth visit like that no one was surprised anymore. Because everytime they would be stuck, Lena will miraculously appear with what they need. But she still stubbornly refused to talk with anyone besides Brainy and only about science behind her inventions.

This time she confidentely walked into the building, but Brainy instantly stood up. Everyone around them tensed, powers and guns ready. Lena opened her mouth to protest but he forced her to sit under bewildered eyes of everyone in the room.

"She's injured", was the only thing Brainy said, as he pried another helpful thing from Lena's hands.

"Am not", Lena replied, and Alex noticed how she slurred her words a little. "Take this shit and let me go".

Nia was already out of the room, fetching medical supplies, when Alex moved Brainy to the side to check on her.

"Left side, one inch lower than her ribs", he told Alex. Nia, who put Alex's medical bag down, gently rubbed his back, even if it was almost invisible that he was worried.

Alex pressed her hand under Lena's jacket where he instructed, and her fingers returned covered in blood.

Lena was still swearing, when Alex cleared her wound - bullet hole - and dressed it.

"You need medical attention, Luthor", Alex said quietly. After everything she was still angry at the other woman but it didn't mean she wanted her dead.

"If I show it to someone, I'm as good as dead", Lena chuckled, cleary half-delirious from pain and pain-killers. How she managed to get there on the sole willpower was beyond understanding. "Even if you want it, I would like to live a little longer".

Alex didn't answer. Couldn't. Even if she knew it wasn't true, some part of her wanted Lena to believe it. To suffer.

It was a shameful, selfish thought.

/ / / / / / / / / /

"Lena?" Kara's weak voice sounded incredibly loud in the quiet of their usual exchange.

Lena stiffened and promtly turned to flee in the middle of her conversation with Brainy.

"Lena!" Kara could catch up to her in the blink of an eye, but somehow near Lena she always forgot she has powers.

Lena spent too much time talking over some sort of mathematical models and Kara wrapped up her mission early.

"Please, wait!"

"Leave me alone", Lena gritted through her teeth, but even Alex saw tears in her eyes, as she sped up.

"She's hurting", Brainy supplied from Alex's side, as they both watched this strange chase.

"She's injured again?" Alex asked with small pang of guilt.

"No, she's hurting emotionally. More than she shows."

He didn't add anything else. They watched door slamming into Kara's pitiful face.

/ / / / / / / / / /

"Why are you helping us?" Alex asked her about a month after Lena and Kara's dramatic meeting.

"Shut up", Lena answered, tired as hell after three all-nighters they pulled to rescue Kara from another dimension.

"It's getting old, Luthor. Spill the beans".

Perhaps it's exhaustion, perhaps it is somehow sisterly look in Alex's eyes, but Lena is silent suddenly, before almost pushing words out.

"You said you will turn over the world for your sister, didn't you? I had someone like that once. My big brother, who would be the only one to treat me like a person in the place that was supposed to be my home. Who protected me from everything he could. And whom I admired so much I wanted to be just like him".

Alex tensed, as always when talking about Lex. But Lena's voice was quiet, and her face already wet from tears she seemed to hold for so long, and Alex shut her mouth this time.

"When he did all that he did, I was disappointed. But I still loved my big brother. But when he first tried to kill me? I was heartbroken. The person who withstood father's beatings in my place tried to kill me", Lena chuckled through her sobs.

Alex never allowed herself to think about Lex past his atrocites. She couldn't afford any pity for the person who tormented her sister and her family. But right now there was another little girl beside her who lost her only family.

"You said you will turn over the world for your sister, didn't you?", Lena turned to her. "I killed my brother for her".

She didn't said anything after that. Just cried herself to sleep. And Alex was just sitting there, left alone with shocking news and even more shocking realizations. Lex was dead. Lena was the one who killed him. He told her Kara was Supergirl and she still killed him.

/ / / / / / / / / /

"Don't pity me, it makes my skin crawl", Lena said the next day, when she was given her own pass to the DEO. She threw it on the table right in front of Alex, and agent considered asking 'what the hell, Luthor' just for the fun.

"I'm not. But after what you did for my sister and what you continue to do, the least I can do is to give you free entrance".

Lena sat beside her, tired and feverish from overwork.

"Don't care about me either".

"When will you talk to Kara?" Lena scowled when Alex ignored her, but still took the pass.

"Never, perhaps. I look at her and see the dead body of my brother. It's not something a little talk can fix. And she will blame herself, burdening me with another endless boundle of her apologies".

"She will learn of his death eventually, and then she'll found out how he died. It will happen anyway. And yes, of course, nothing will be fixed just because you too will talk. But maybe you can relieve some of your burden, and maybe several small talks will help you both".

Lena didn't lift her head from the shiny surface of the table. But she nodded tiniest bit.

/ / / / / / / / / /

Lena kept coming to help. Kara kept trying to talk to her.

One day Lena conceded, and then she screamed at Kara for an hour in the empty conference room and stormed out.

They had reverse situation later, when Lena came injured once again. Kara screamed about her being reckless, and they eventually reached her past sorrows.

They screamed, then talked, then whispered. And slowly started to smile again. Later came tentative touches, lunches and game nights.

So when almost two years later Alex found them in the kitchen doing something she would prefer to erase from her mind, everything finally became as it should.

[noctxj]

hanahaki disease “… in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies…”

part i / part ii / part iii / part iv

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“have you considered trying to make your feelings known?”

all things considered, the bed agent was sitting upon was more comfortable than what the barracks’ had.

but not as cozy as kyles’ chest—

“i can’t,”

the doctor frowns, pausing his tapping on the tablet, his eyes looking up to search agents face; not staring at him, rather just across from them.

a blank canvas—in pain—but nonetheless a perfect mask of apathy—

“why not?”

“i just can’t, doctor.”

agent sighs, turning their sober gaze to the doctor. simply put, agent would not have been able to take their rejection— their disgust, their hatred, their bellows to leave and never come back, once they realised an outsider who did not even belong within the same scope as the taskforce would develop such frivolous feelings such as love. agent would never be able to witness them renouncing the contract laswell carefully pieced together, watch their backs turn on agent for the last time, visibly see the trust delicately built over the past several months to crumble away into nothing, as if it never existed, as if they never existed, as if they never touched agents life in a way no other had been able to.

the doctors eyes remained steadfast on agents, a silent urge to continue.

“… i know that… that i wouldn’t be able to bear their… rejection… but this, this procedure?”

diverting their gaze to their lap, swallowing back the familiar metallic taste on their tongue.

“this... this i know i can endure” 

i’ve been through worse—

the silent words allowing agent to meet the doctors eyes again.

you’ll see eventually doctor, all my scars: permanent reminders. reminders born from miscalculations, wrong decisions, torture—

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

the same scars the taskforce were mistakenly exposed to. an undercover mission with agent used as bait for their target within a gala. a mission that wondrously ended up with the back of agents’ strapless dress ripped all the way down to their tailbone— stupid man with his stupidly gaudy rings— a furious agent using one hand to clasp the front of their dress lest they flash the idiotic target, and a handgun in the other, pointed at said idiot dazedly sprawled on the floor with a bloody (broken) nose.

agents’ back to the door as the taskforce spilled through, following agents’ signal for backup, only for agent to hear them pause by the doorway, their breaths collectively inhaled at the same time— 

“who did this to you?”

simon’s gravelly voice asked— no, demanded. agent turned their head, handgun still pointing at the (idiot) target, confusion written on their face, brows furrowing as instead of responding, stomped over until he was looming over agent.

“ghost, now is not the time—“ the captain tried to reason as the air seemed to get tighter and tighter.

“who. did. this. to. you.” not a demand anymore, but an order. one of simon’s gloved hands sweeping over the raised discoloured scars running along agents back; a pattern of scars resonant of whip marks, some of cigarette burns and others as if skin was gouged over and over and never allowed to heal properly again. 

agent who blinked, once, twice, before slowly turning their head forward again, avoiding simon, john, kyle and johnny’s faces’. handgun slowly lowered till it was facing the ground, a hollowness seemingly eating at agent from the inside out—

“it doesn’t matter. i killed all of them anyway.”

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

agent could only imagine the bleeding cracks that were appearing on their carefully placed mask, the madness that had been chasing them their entire life finally being able to swallow them whole. another soulless killer… assassin… spy… murderer, feeding off of rotting corpses just to survive another day, another assignment. agent was able to taste happiness and love for the first time, an addiction they never could have prepared themselves for; never could have foreseen it leading to a solution providing more pain— more pain to just to remain in all of their lives for just a little longer.

“and what if you’re wrong?”

… what if? my entire life has been nothing but timing and precision; the notion of “what if” is equal to failure and death—

“what if they return your feelings?”

agent could feel a plume of flowers unfurling at the base of their throat.

“… i wouldn’t deserve them.”

could feel them slowly fluttering their way up their throat.

“doctor, i’m by no means a good person; have never pretended to be. i’m not someone worthy let alone deserving of love.”

but i’ll rip myself apart over and over just to be around you all for just a little more time—

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“now, if you could count to ten out loud for me please”

“one…”

everything will be okay— 

“two...”

agent could feel a tangled swath of thorns and petals pushing themselves up their throat—

“it’s okay, just keep breathing. keep counting for me.”

“… three…”

once this is done, i can return to them. they don’t have to know, they’ll never have to know— 

“… four...“

agent could feel their mind slow down, their thoughts feeling nonsensical; the effort almost pointless as everything began to flicker in and out of focus, blurry at the edges.

“… f-five…”

in the distance, agent could hear a loud commotion coming from behind the closed doors. what was that? their eyes fluttering, noticing the nurse holding the mask sending a questioning look to the doctor, his attention turned towards the door.

agent could hear… yelling? they— more than one, had deep, masculine voices. 

why did they sound so familiar?

agent took a hold of the nurses’ wrist, their attention snapping back to them; communicating to ease the mask off their face as thunderous reverberations of heavy footsteps grew louder and louder, until there was a split second of silence— and then the doors to the surgery room swung open with a resounding crack as they slammed back against the walls. 

four large bodies barging through the seemingly small doorway, blurred masses of power—

it was them.

they—what?

how—?

agent could feel their eyes blink in surprise, the panic slowly filtering in through the fuzziness of their brain.

nononono—

theyshouldntbehere—!!

despite agents mind racing, the small amount of anaesthetic had already taken effect; only seeming to slacken their grip of nurses’ wrist, agents’ finer motor skills out of reach—

—including the effort of swallowing back the vicious thorns and bloodied flowers now erupting out of agents mouth in a painful choke; blood spraying against the mask and now the nurses’ hands as they are ripped away—by simon?? 

a skull mask with such dark eyes—so close— reaching out to grasp their shoulder to turn their body to the side, his familiar scent of dark whisky, and just simon invading agent’s senses as they follow the direction of his pull. another pair of warm gloved hands on their back and hip assisting in the turn—kyle? his calming earthy scent that reminded agent of the heat of the sun, wafting to their nose. with another familiar—and safe— scent seemingly punching through the mix of simon and kyles— johnny? an addictive smell of sweet cinnamon akin to one of his addictive bear hugs that he often followed up with a playful ruffle to the head, now instead gently cradling agents head forward.

agent couldn’t stop the onslaught of mixed emotions and painful hacking up of blood, flowers and thorny stems spilling out onto the cold floor. confusion, helplessness, fear— a concoction that only seemed to encourage another heaving of blood and flower petals. 

i-i-icant-thisistoomuch—

the beeping of the bp monitor now frantically blaring out in a staccato rhythm, agents’ panic mixed with their chocked hacking reflecting their suffocating agony.

ithurtstoomuch— 

the hand formerly gripping the nurses’ wrist left flailing in the air, until a heavy set of hands grasp it and hold it against a prickly—john? agent trying to focus their tear filled eyes onto the blurred figure kneeled before them. the captain whose rough and calloused yet gentle hands encompassing theirs against his mouth; puffs of his breath hot agents’ cold trembling fingers, his smoky scent swirling around agent in a dizzying trance. 

“it’s okay little love, were here.” john lowly murmurs against their fingers, the plush feeling of his lips and prickly beard sweeping across agents’ knuckles so lovingly.

as if it was following a command from their captain, agents’ tense body finally relaxed back onto the sheets (and their beloveds’ gentle embraces). feeling safe and secure for the first time in weeks since leaving the taskforce; the distant beeping of the monitor slowing down in its rhythm—

only for agents eyes to finally close in exhaustion, as the last of the crimson petals drop from between their bloodied lips. 

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

tric’s notes

i love how i keep saying to myself like yeah this’ll be the last part aND THEN IT ISNT (ಥ‿ಥ) peak clownery. the amount of dialogue keeps increasing (as is the word count) per chapter but uhh oh well. 

had a lil flashback midway there, i may write short? drabbles of little peeks as to how their relationship developed from the day agent met the taskforce = a potluck of more angst and pining!! yaayyyy !!!! but dw there will also be fluff and shenanigans to heh (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

part iv will defs be the last one of this series ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ��ˋ

thanks for reading this far!! ♡︎♡︎

crossposted on ao3 (same username!) 

[just-some-random-blogger]

Pinball [Aemond's Version]

🄼🄰🅂🅃🄴🅁🄻🄸🅂🅃

Just you, your kid, and a pinball machine against the world.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader | >600 | cw: fem!reader, single mom!reader, modern/70s AU, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: idk dont shoot the messenger, i rarely feel inspired to do fluff so thank Pinball: The Man Who Saved the Game and mike faist for this lololol

Even the dinging of the elevator was too loud of him today. Aemond groans in his corner, screwing his eyes shut just as the doors close.

"Here."

He opens his eyes.

You look at him with your soft eyes, curved lips, and overflowing laundry basket by the hip, "you look like you need it."

Aemond's lilac gaze falls on your upturned palm where a single unopened tablet of medicine laid. His light brows furrow, recognizing the packet to be a painkiller, "a kind way to tell someone they look like shit." He takes it nonetheless.

You chuckle and shake your head, "most of us wished we looked half as pretty as you on a day you look like shit, honey."

The elevator dings again. A man walks in, coming between the two of you.

It takes a him a few floors to realize you were flirting with him.

He straightens up and shifts slightly to face you. He steals a glance your way, finding you were smiling. Yeah, his head was pounding, but here he was feeling a smile creep up on him, "you're prettier."

You turn to him, as does the man between the two of you. He gruffs, "what?"

Aemond turns to him, mouth opening, brows raising, "w- I wasn't talking to you."

The man makes a face and thankfully gets off at the tenth floor.

Both you and Aemond watch him exit, and you break into a fit of giggles once the door closes. By the time Aemond joins in your chuckles, you mutter softly, "I think he was hurt."

He laughs harder, which isn't very good for his head ache.

Before he can think of anything to say, you both reach the ground floor. You give him a smile just before walking out. He ruffles his silver hair, following after you as you make a beeline for the laundromat just beside your building.

He finally speaks, "wai-" "MAMA!"

Aemond he cringes at the shriek.

A small child comes running towards you, nearly knocking your basket to the pavement, "I GOT A COIN FOR THE PINBALL-"

"Baby," you crouch down, grabbing the boy by the arm, "we talked about this. The coins are for our laundry. Where is Aunt Sisi?"

"BUT MAMA-"

"Inside voice, bud."

The boy laughs, "BUT WE'RE IN THE STREET!"

"Yeah," you huff, moving to open the door to the laundry place, "but we're going inside now, right?"

"RIGHT! Right!" he grins.

You momentarily struggle to open the door, that is, until it magically opens. You look over and find the man from the elevator opened it for you.

You smile at him, taking your son but the hand, "what do we say to the nice man that helped open the door for us?"

"Thank you, sir," the boy whispers with a smile that's missing a tooth.

"Thank you, sir," you repeat, just before heading in.

"Wait," Aemond says, fishing for something in his pocket. For once, he is glad for his loose change that heavies his pants, "here," he gives a bunch to the boy, "for your pinball machine."

The boy gratefully accepts the coins, gasping as if it was treasure, "THAN- thank you!"

"Oh, sir," you shake your head, "you don't ha-"

"It's fine," Aemond shrugs, "it's just loose change. Consider it a thank you for the pain killer."

You slowly nod at him.

"And a bribe," he tilts his head.

"A bribe?" you tilt you head the opposite way.

"Maybe... we can play pinball sometime."

"PINBALL!"

Aemond groans at the boy's shout.

You snort and shake your head at the child, "no, baby, laundry first."

"Mmm," he hums, "laundry first."

You look back at Aemond and nod slowly, "maybe."

The discomfort on his face fades, "maybe."

"We'll be done here in an hour," you turn to the boy, "won't we bud?"

The boy thinks, "I don't know, mama."

You snort and walk inside, "see you around."

Aemond sighs, pushing the door wider for you, "gods, I hope so."

[yelenasdiary]

Bed for Three

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda comes home to find you and the twins cuddled in bed, sick. 

Fluff | Comfort | No Warnings | 1.4K

AC: Another late-night idea that I had! Also, sending get well wishes @mywitchy-assassin ! I hope you feel better soon, my love x

"Honey, I'm off to work" Wanda whispered softly as she placed a kiss on your forehead. Wanda hated waking you up, but she also didn't want you to wake up in a worry. "Have a good day, baby" you mumbled as you snuggled into the covers, you'd have at least another hour of sleep before you'd have to get up and start getting the twins ready for school. 

Wanda smiled softly at you, soaking up the last image she'd see of you until she came home. Mission reports and plenty of Avengers meetings were booked today and Wanda wanted to be at the compound early to get the reports out of the way. 

Your alarm was always the worst sound in the world to you, shut it off you sat up and stretched your tired body out before stepping into the bathroom to prepare yourself for a tough morning. The twins loved school, they got to see their friends of course, but getting them up at 7am was always a struggle. You'd take a quick shower before making sure their breakfast was on the table ready. 

"Boys, it's 7" you spoke softly as you opened their door, straight away you could hear in their voices there was no way they would be going to school. "Ma, I don't feel so well" Billy pulled the covers over his head while Tommy agreed, "my head really hurts" He spoke softly as if even the sound of his voice was making his headache worse. "Oh no" you said to yourself as you walked over to Tommy and gently placed a hand on his forehead, "you're a bit warm honey" you added. 

"I think I'm going to be sick!" Billy jumped out of bed in a rush to the bathroom. Your mother instincts kicked in as you quickly followed him. Luckily for you he made it to the toilet before throwing up last night's dinner and ice cream, you grabbed a clean hand towel and soaked it with warm water before handing it to Billy to wipe his mouth. "I think you boys are staying home today" you pressed your lips together before helping Billy back to bed. 

"Can we sleep in your bed please Mama?" Billy asked, his tired and weak tone made your heart break. You hated seeing your boys unwell. "Of course, my loves, come on. I'll make some tea and get you a bucket" you replied, both boys slowly got out of bed and made their way to your shared room with Wanda and made themselves comfortable as you placed a bucky and towel on Billy's side of the bed then made your way downstairs to make some tea. 

Water and light food for Billy, pain killers, fruit and honey lemon tea for Tommy should do the fix you thought, well, you hoped. Wanda was always better at this stuff than you were, she knew exactly which foods to cook to make sure you and the boys got all the goodness you needed to keep your body from feeling any worse. As much as you wanted to call her, you knew she was in for a busy day and that meant this mission was all yours to handle. 

The day was spent in bed with your boys as they both rested their heads on your shoulders while the three of you watched movies on Disney +. The boys fought over which movie to put on only to be reminded that if they could fight over movies, maybe they weren't too sick after all. For lunch it was light foods for Billy to nibble at, Tommy had some fruit and a sandwich before taking a cold and flu tablet when he started to complain about having a sore throat and his headache not getting any better. 

By the time Wanda got home you and the boys were fast asleep with the last movie the boys picked playing in the background as the end credits rolled. Wanda noticed the house was rather too quiet for a family of three to be home. The boy's backpacks weren't thrown on the sofa like normal, their shoes weren't in random places on the floor in the living room and their home wasn't sat on the dining table waiting for you and Wanda to help them. 

She wandered upstairs and followed the sound of low music coming from the bedroom, the soft smile on her face when she saw her wife and two children snuggled up in bed, tissues littered the bedside table next to Tommy while the bucket next to Billy sat clean. "My loves" Wanda shook her head softly as she turned the TV off and closed the door quietly behind her. 

The smell of food cooking downstairs woke you with hunger, your head now pounding with a headache and the boys still asleep beside you. One look at Tommy's red nose and cheeks and you knew that you'd caught whatever bug he had, you only hoped that you wouldn't also catch Billy's stomach bug. Carefully, you managed to slide out of bed without waking your boys and made your way downstairs where Wanda was in an element of cooking and singing softly to herself. 

"You're home" you spoked softly, now realizing your throat was itchy and dry. "Hi honey, you don't sound so good, go lay down on the sofa. Dinner is almost ready, pumpkin soup for the three of you" she smiled as she looked over at you. "The boys, they're not well. I don't know what Billy has but I think Tommy is coming down with a cold or flu" you explained with a pout, "I gave Tommy a cold and flu tablet and made sure Billy had light food, toast and water but I think I'm catching Tommy's bug" you added as you reached for the painkillers for your headache. 

"You should've called me darling, I would've come home" 

"I know but you said you had a lot to do today, and I didn't want to bother you" you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and downed the two tablets. 

"Next time, bother me, okay? Now go back to bed or lay down on the sofa. I'm home now, I'll take care of yous" Wanda replied as she stirred the pot of soup. 

----

After dinner, Wanda put the boys to bed and made sure they were warm and had plenty of water to drink throughout the night, the twins completely worn out only confirmed with Wanda how sick they felt. "My poor loves, get some rest if you both still feel like this by morning, we'll make an appointment with the doctor" she kissed Billy on the forehead as she tucked him in. "I think we made Ma sick too" Tommy commented as Wanda made her way over to him, "I think you did" she chuckled, "we'll book an appointment for Ma too" she added with a kiss on Tommy's head. "Goodnight mom" the twins said in sync as Wanda made her way to the door, "goodnight boys" she smiled before flicking off their lights and closing the door over. 

"I just told the boys that we'll see the doctor tomorrow if they don't feel any better but morning, that includes you" Wanda smiled softly as she entered the bedroom where you were already snuggled and waiting for her, "I'm totally fine" you joked but your voice breaking wasn't convincing Wanda as she shook her head playfully at you. 

"I might take the guest room tonight; I don't think I want whatever you and boys have" 

"What? No" you pouted, "please stay, please give me cuddles, I promise I won't get you sick" you added with your best impression of puppy eyes. They always won Wanda over, she caved in and slid right in beside you. "If I get sick, don't cook for me" she chuckled as she wrapped her arms around you, "why's that?" you asked. 

"Honey, I love you so much but your cooking isn't that good and I feel it would only make me feel worse" Wanda replied with another chuckle before placing a kiss on your cheek, "fine then" you huffed playfully, "the boys and I will just order pizza" you added. 

"Goodnight honey" Wanda playfully rolled her eyes, "goodnight baby". 

A week later Wanda woke up with a pounding headache and a quick dash to the bathroom before making her way downstairs, looking between you and the twins with her arms crossed. "Oh no, you're not!" you said as you looked over at her while she nodded, "I'll call the doctor" You tried not to chuckle at your wife's unimpressed look.

Taglist: @red1culous | @sayah13 | @charl-lally | @when-wolves-howl | @bentleywolf29 | @fxckmiup | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz  | @mmmmokdok | @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145 | @shin-conan-kun | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @wandsmxmff | @apollo2907 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @fluffyblanketgecko | @puta1 | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @tintedrose12 | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @lizzieslcver | @youralphawolf72 | @donnietarantino | @natashamaximoff69 | @hehehehannahthings | @pandaemonium111 | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @marvel-madnessx | @scarsw1fe | @toldthatdevil | 

[astarlightmonbebe]

the appeal of yeojeong as a normal guy who’s just a little bit off. not enough that you would notice when talking to him, of course, but it’s just there, under the surface. a disturbance. and i think it’s interesting because typically you have two types of guys somewhat adjacent to this: guy who seems totally normal but is secretly sadistic/a psychopath, and then guy haunted by a traumatic/troubled past, who has that secret layer of torment running beneath the surface of their image. but yeojeong breaks through these archetypes, and i think part of it is because he’s just so...calm. it’s not that he’s living a double life (kind doctor by day, killer by night) or hiding part of his past (everyone he worked with knew about what happened to his father, and watched his downward spiral during his college days). he’s not the typical male character who is, at every attempt, trying to outrun his tragic past (even though he does run once or twice); he’s not haunted by flashbacks, or suffer from PTSD in the way that is usually portrayed in dramas. and i think part of that is because the glory is a story about victims. it’s dongeun’s story, first and foremost, even though it is also yeojeong’s story, and hyeonnam’s story, and sohee’s story. but it’s a story about dongeun’s pain, and when it’s not about her pain, it’s just about the pain of victimhood - unlike other dramas, this isn’t a show where male pain outweighs the rest.

so yeojeong is just a normal guy. he’s handsome. he has a good career. he’s a plastic surgeon, an interesting choice when both his parents were/are hospital directors, and his father seemed to have worked in the er or something of the sort prior to his death (or at the very least wasn’t a plastic surgeon). something could be said here of yeojeong choosing the ‘safe’ path as a doctor, a path where he cures pain and makes people happy without the added risk of being attacked by one of his patients. there’s no proof of that in the show - why he chose to be a plastic surgeon - but it’s an interesting thought path to travel. 

dongeun says he must have lived a good life. that he’s never had to worry about the path that he’s on. and that’s true, to a certain extent. to everyone, including her in the beginning, yeojeong is perfectly friendly. he’s perfect, but not the perfect that people perceive as too perfect (i.e. the guy who’s hiding things); he has his moments where he spazzes out, gets into fights, goes crazy over dongeun texting him back, teases his mom. he’s perfectly well adjusted (a perfect contrast to dongeun’s ‘maladjustment’). he wears flip flops to work and gets the same coffee order daily. he plays go with old men in the park.

he likes to listen to the fizzing of vitamin tablets in water because it calms him down. is this a strange thing? only because he thinks it’s important enough to mention to his therapist. he does it at work too - drops the tablet in, closes his eyes, rests his head. he does it at home - drops the tablet in, opens the drawer, draws a knife. it’s about the noise. bubbles rising to the surface, like bubbles rising from underwater. he stays underwater until the last possible moment, when he has to break the surface in order to breath. dongeun makes him feel like he’s at the eye of a storm - a deceptively calm center, while everything else rages outside. and i think it’s kind of important that he makes that comparison, when he’s someone always seeking that calm. the soothing noise, that makes him feel lonely.

so he’s just a normal guy. a normal guy who receives letters on a regular basis from the prisoner who brutally murdered his father. he doesn’t like letters, he tells dongeun. who knows what he does with the letters - does he keep them? does he throw them away as soon as he sees them? he must have read some of them; maybe you only need to read one to know what is in the rest. maybe he’s still reading them; maybe he keeps them without reading, an invisible torment. it’s not what he does with the letters that matters, but that he receives letters at all. 

can you still call it a haunting if you’ve almost made your peace with it? if you’re living with it? 

he’s just a normal guy, who looks his therapist right in the eyes and tells her that she couldn’t fix him. he diligently attends therapy for years on a regular basis, even though it doesn’t work. he finally abandons it when he moves to semyeong, because he chooses to embrace dongeun’s revenge. he chooses his own revenge, too, in a way. the dark part of him that he can’t escape. the one that makes him pick up the knife, who asks dongeun who to kill before she even tells him she wants any of them dead, even when he’s a doctor from a family of doctors, and doctors don’t kill - they save lives instead. 

you couldn’t fix me, he tells his therapist calmly. so calmly. as if there’s not a bloodied man sitting next to him, a man he dreams of killing. the man is just life to him, just like the letters are life to him to. a dulled numbness. an acceptance of it. 

is your son going through hell? can you even tell it’s hell, if it’s what you’ve become used to? is it hell when you’re a doctor dreaming of murder? is it hell to no longer be tormented by dead men and living murderers who send you letters? is it?

[themultifandomgal]

Jay- Trying For A Baby/Finding Out

Jay and I knew that as soon as we got married we both wanted to have a child. So in anticipation Jay and I move into a larger house a couple of months after we come home from our honeymoon. This time a three bedroomed house.

I came off the pill the day of our wedding and since then my period has been all over the place so I've just been taking a test every week, but it's starting to become a little disheartening so I've decided to stop taking a test until I have any symptoms. Jay and I walk through the doors of the precinct. Trudy buzzes us in and we head up to intelligence

"Good morning YLN, Halstead it's good of you to join us" Voight says crossing his arms

"Sorry we're late. Our hot water wasn't working this morning" I sigh putting my bag down at my desk

"Used it up last night?" Adam wiggles his eyebrows

"Not that it's any of your business, no. The boilers fucked so that needs replacing" I snap at Adam who holds his hands up. I go over to the break room and pour myself a coffee. Adam walks in behind me "sorry I didn't mean to snap at you. I've got a headache and I keep getting negative tests back and now the boiler. It's just getting to me"

"You don't have anything to apologise for. Here" Adam opens up a cupboard and takes out some pain killers "for the head"

"Thanks" I smile at him and take two tablets with my coffee.

I walk back to my desk and sit down starting to look at possible connections to the drug cartel we've been looking at the last couple of weeks. While I'm sitting there I start rubbing my head as the headache continues to get worse as I'm staring at the screen in front of me

"I think I've got something" Antonio says standing up. He walks over to the board with something in his hand. I stand up, but immediately feel dizzy so I sit back down as my ears ring

"YN?" I hear Jay say. I look up at him

"Your headache not getting better?" Adam frowns

"No. I feel a little dizzy. My stomachs cramping a little as well. Guess it's my period coming"

"Go lay down" Voight nods towards the beds we have. I stand up but as I do I decide to sit back down

"I'm gonna pass out if I stand up" I say to no one in particular

"Lean on me when you stand up. I'll carry you" once again I stand up and lean on Jay who picks me up and carries me to the break room and puts lays me down on a bed

"Go to sleep see how you feel afterwards" Jay kisses my head and leaves the room. Only 20 minutes later I need the loo. Slowly I stand up and start to make my way to the toilet, but the last thing I remember is my ears ringing and my eyesight going.

I wake up to a white ceiling and a hand in mine

"Thank god your awake. You scared me" I turn to look at Jay who looks worried

"What happened?" I ask

"You passed out when you got out of the bed" Will walks into the room as I say

"I needed a wee. I didn't piss myself did I?"

"Typical. You pass out and your more worried about wetting yourself" he chuckles

"No babe you didn't, but we know why you passed out?"

"Period?" I ask looking between Jay and Will

"No. Natalie checked you over and ran some tests"

"Oh god am I dying?" I ask wide eyed

"No baby will you let Will speak"

"Sorry"

"Your pregnant YN. You and Jay are going to be parents. And I'm going to be an uncle" Will smiles. I frown feeling confused. Natalie walks in

"How are you feeling YN?"

"I... I'm... I took a pregnancy test a few days ago. It was negative so I decided I wasn't going to take anymore until I had symptoms"

"Tests aren't always accurate or when you took it you may have been to early for it to detect. Now, I'm going to have you rest up for a couple of weeks while this dizziness passes. Don't hesitate to come back if it continues or if you experience a lot of sickness. I can give you some tablets for that"

"I'll let Voight know we're taking some time off"

"We?"

"Well yeah I need to make sure you don't pass out on the way to the bathroom" I smile shaking my head

"I'll be fine"

"She will as long as she rests up and drinks plenty"

"Thank you Nat"

"No problem. I'll have Maggie get your release forms ready. Congratulations to the both of you"

"We're really going to have a baby?" I ask with tears in my eyes

"We really are" Jay says leaning down to me, peaking my lips.

[ladysomething]

can we maybe get a little snippity snoop? 🙂‍↕️

even though the next chapter is less than 24 hours away, I'm giving it to you because I found the funniest snippet that is going to be a bit like throwing a fox in a henhouse hehehe

When Charles wakes up, he almost immediately bursts into tears. 

It’s still dark outside, so he didn’t sleep away as much time as he hoped he would—evidenced, of course, by the killer cramp currently squeezing the life out of his stomach. They’re so bad his ab muscles are twitching involuntarily.  

His thighs are gross and sticky, his hole fluttering uselessly around nothing, so at the very least he’s much closer to his actual heat than he was when he went to sleep. 

When he tries to curl up in a little ball, he realises that there is a now-cold hot water bottle resting against his stomach. He has no idea when that got there, but it’s the one from his bathroom drawer that Max had waiting for him the day he moved in—wrapped in a fluffy cover and everything. 

Even though it’s cold, he presses it into his stomach anyway, just for the pressure. Fuck, he’s not sure he’s been in this much pain for a pre-heat before. Sure, they’ve never been great, but during his most recent one he’d hurtled through his pre-heat too fast to really linger with the pain. 

He’s not even coming up on a full day yet, and he already wants to dig into his stomach and pull his uterus from his body. Fuck this. 

When the wave passes, he fidgets around, trying to find a position he might be comfortable in, but his bed sheets are scratching against his skin and the robe is too hot and everything just sucks. He sniffles, a little too loudly, shuffling around again even though his muscles are aching like he’s just done a race. 

Beside him, the bed creaks, and then a bedside lamp switches on. 

Charles hadn’t even realised that he was closest to the wall—he usually sleeps in the middle. Instead of feeling trapped in bed, he feels a rush of soothing comfort at knowing that there’s an alpha between him and the door, that he’s safely huddled between the wall and Max. 

Fuck, his heat must be getting really close. 

“What’s happenin’?” Max asks groggily, scrubbing his palm over his face. 

“Hurts,” Charles whispers, before he can stop himself and put on a brave face. 

Max blinks at him, eyes still half closed, then turns over to rummage through the bedside table. He comes back only a moment later with a pack of paracetamol, and then passes over a cup of water. Charles takes both gratefully, swallowing down two tablets quickly before settling back in the bed. 

With clearly heavy limbs, Max stumbles out of the bed, turning back around to kneel on it only to get the water bottle from Charles’ stomach. 

“Where are you going?” Charles asks, words slightly slurred with his exhaustion. 

“Fill this up,” Max replies, almost stumbling into the door jamb as he leaves the room. 

He can’t be gone for more than five minutes, but by the time he returns Charles is feeling even more restless. It’s going to take so long for the painkillers to kick in, and he just wants it to be all over.

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

A Freak and a Basket Case��� The “Seven Inches of Satanic Panic” Edition

An Eddie Munson x OC Fanfic

The good lord (me) intended this to be an OC x Eddie fanfic, and by god, that’s what y’all are getting from here on. The original reader insert series will be discontinued for now, unless I really get the urge to go back and revisit it.

For now, just enjoy what I originally wanted. Which was over 3,000 words of self indulgent OC fanfic to help me get past these dark times. Life is too short to worry about being cringy.

Warnings: period typical racism, swearing, mentions of suicide, mentions of abuse (more tags to be added as the story progresses).

Divider by: @strangergraphics-archive

Pairings: Eddie Munson x OC

Word Count: 4,088 words

Chapter One - Don’t Talk to Strangers

“I'm danger, I'm the stranger.

And I, I'm darkness, I'm anger, I'm pain…”

Hawkins, Indiana was going to be hell on earth. Of that, Alejandra Perea was certain.

She didn’t want to move here in the first place. This whole situation was horseshit. Spur of the moment pendejadas from the family matriarch in command of a newly formed triad where there had once been a quartet. Leaving everything behind, even if it meant new and exciting things on the horizon, it wasn’t necessary. The family did not need a fresh start over in a new state.

No, what everyone needed to do was to start looking harder. She could still remember the advice given to her nearly a year ago, as it was the only solid and reliable advice she had received at the time. Expand the search area, but make sure at least one person stays at the home base. Keep the name in the media as much as possible, even if it meant taking out another loan to buy airtime on the radio stations locally. Question everything. Look for abnormalities, and above all: report, report, report!

Doing something was better than doing nothing, and if Alejandra’s family was any kind of concerned, they would be more aware of the rampant corruption and blatant conspiracy afoot throughout this whole situation. She could see the truth laid out in front of her, especially when there was a way to physically connect the dots. Soon she’d need another Big Chief Tablet to jot down her notes, and since the one sad little general store in town didn’t even have what she needed, the lack of consistency and the unfamiliar stationery was already making her panic.

So instead of playing pretend— telling herself that she would bide her time until she could find a way back home— Alejandra decided she was going to do what she did best when she wasn’t listened to: shut out the entire world, and focus her attention inward as her plan formulated.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer…

“Sit up right, huevona! You’re going to mark my seats.”

Reluctantly, Alejandra slid her feet off the tan leather bucket seat, hoping that the battered treads of her Chucks left marks. Instead of facing her mother’s lecture, Alejandra spent the morning commute looking out the window with a scowl. She wanted to be anywhere but here. This podunk midwestern vibe was horrible. Unfamiliar. A hostile environment of mostly blue collar workers that could sniff out even the most light skinned Latina in a crowded room. Like a petulant child, she kept her thick framed glasses smudged with the oil from her cheeks. Just so she wouldn’t have to actually see Hawkins.

Her mother – Carla Perea– obviously noticed the scowl, and she sighed deeply before trying to speak again.

“I know you’re not happy, but this is a new start for us. Try to make the best of it, huh?”

Alejandra kicked at her blue Jansport backpack.

“And why couldn’t we just have moved somewhere else in New Mexico?! Chingao, you didn’t even think about it, you just put your finger on the map and ya!”

“Watch your mouth, Alejandra.” mom snapped, “And stop with that mocho talk! You know it wasn’t just putting a finger and ya. We needed a fresh start, and Hawkins was the best choice we could make. It wasn’t as impulsive as you make it out to be, it’s what’s best for all three of us.”

“And what the hell about dad?!” Alejandra demanded. “Huh?! How the shit are you honoring your marriage vows by just abandoning him like that?! Better or for worse my fucking asshole!”

Her mother's eyes narrowed as she drove. Obviously her daughter’s backtalk had hit a raw nerve. One of Alejandra’s new found talents was shit talking, the same venomous spitting that only cobras in certain parts of Africa and Asia had mastered. It had only been a year and some change since she’d honed the skill, but this kind of irate wit was too well honed for it to be new.

This talent had been latent. As if waiting for the perfect opportunity…

“What’s done is done.” Carla hissed, knuckles going from tawny brown to white grip, tightening her hold on the steering wheel.

“It’s been over a year, it’s time to accept he’s not coming back. Basta!”

“Bullshit…” Alejandra hissed.

And she would have kept going, if not for Carla deciding that morning to wear her leather belt around the waistline of her denim dress. And not just any belt. Oh no… It was the thick one with the sterling silver Gary Reeves buckle.

The thing about Gary Reeves: his silver work conchos with the fine needlepoint lines hurt like a motherfucker. Especially if there weren't any soft turquoise chunks on the front to cushion your ass from a chingazo. Alejandra wasn’t wearing the right kind of clothes for a fight, anyway. Months of trial and error taught her that her Wrangler culottes – along with a paperback copy of Heretics of Dune tucked in the back pocket– were the only acceptable armor if she wanted to talk shit back to her mother.

So instead of pushing her luck, Alejandra quietly resigned herself to her repetition. Unwilling and unmotivated to start a battle, when her mother was armed and willing to pull off into a Hawkins public parking lot to humiliate them both.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

The Dodge Aspen continued down the unfamiliar streets at a snail’s crawl. Cars boxed them into the single lane going down Cherry Street towards the cluster of schools. Even though the realtor had boasted about the house’s proximity to the finest education in Roane County, the motorists of Hawkins, Indiana managed to turn a ten-minute drive into almost forty-five minutes. Luckily, Carla had anticipated this.

By five thirty that morning, mom was already blasting a mixtape of los classicos, banging on Alejandra’s bedroom door and setting off the barking of the family’s two dogs. Tiffany had almost tripped Alejandra in the bathroom, both dog and girl yelping as Alejandra stumbled and nearly smacked her head on the counter. Scruffy had refused to go outside into the dog run, so everyone stopped what they were doing and aided in chasing him out the back door into the yard with Tiffany at his heels.

And then that darned cat…

Unruly and orange Ripley had puked all over Jaime’s work pants, while he screamed at Alejandra to help him find another pair in his mess of a room. Useless from years of mi hito syndrome, he complained when his sister refused vehemently to take time from blow drying her curls to iron his creases. They’d gotten into a screaming match, until Carla finally conceded to do it for her son to “keep the peace”.

It had been a shitshow of a morning, an omen of things to come.

Carla blasted the horn at a green Gaucho with a white stripe that nearly sideswiped her, the dented vehicle trying to cut in front of their sedan into the lane and nearly taking out a couple of other cars with it.

“Pinches babosos!” Carla growled under her breath.

Alejandra was too pissed off to laugh.

The two women stayed in silence for some time, until at last Alejandra spoke up.

“You couldn’t have picked somewhere with raza at least? Like California?” she muttered, watching the faces of a group of younger teens crossing on bikes at the light.

“I’m light skinned, and I bet I’m the darkest one at school… A la chingada mujer.”

“What does it matter if there’s no raza here?!” Carla demanded, pounding her fist on the tan leather of the middle console, “Get over it. There’s no way we could have managed in California. I’m not going to kill myself working three jobs with your tios in Lynwood!”

“Enserio, mom?! You waited until right at the start of senior year, you didn’t want to wait?” Alejandra whined.

“Wait for what? Wait for you to fail another year in Pojoaque?!” Carla hissed, clearly fed up with her daughter’s bullshit, “I’m not waiting on you to pull your head out from your ass. So shut your mouth, and quit complaining or I will pull this car over. I swear to God.”

Alejandra shut her mouth. She tucked herself into the side of the passenger door with arms crossed, laying her head on the cool glass of the window and curtaining her teary brown eyes with her dark hair.

What could she say back to that?

Her mother was right. A reminder that she was a failure wasn’t necessary. The reminders of lost scholarships and a tanked GPA would follow her the rest of her life. And sometimes, if Alejandra pressed hard enough on the backs of her thighs, she could still feel the sting from the welts she’d gotten for failing senior year back at Pojoaque High School.

This change was stupid. A lot had changed in the past year. Too many things.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

The reasonably happy, vibrant teenage girl that her mother knew was gone. Instead she was replaced by a bitter, angry young adult at eighteen years of age that had her innocence ripped away too young. Alejandra was now compulsive in her actions. Self-soothing in the oddest ways as old, pre-established habits became worse or new symptoms developed.

Pacing up and down the hallway listening to music on full blast was not anything new, chewing on the cuffs of her clothes or on the floss of her friendship bracelets was. As was the rebellion of dyeing all of her clothes some shade of black or gray. Carla had lost her mind when she saw all of the blouses, skirts, and Gunne Sax dresses had been dyed one weekend. It had taken hours to get the stains out of the washer and out of the bathtub at the old apartment back in New Mexico. Chalk that up to another lesson from the Gary Reeves belt.

And then she started failing all of her classes…

Much like any child, Alejandra had always been a bit of a space case. Living half in her imagination and reading weird books, or bothering her parents with second hand anecdotes of aliens and weird monsters. Like any other student, she wanted to spend her afternoons at play rather than at the family dinner table doing homework. Yet that had all been innocent fun. Science fiction books and fairy movies did not a troubled teen make, but lately that vivid imagination was shrouded in grimdark. She read gory novels of true crime and abductions, of both the supernatural and natural genre, rather than bothering with anything like cracking open a chemistry book or meeting her tutor at the library for help with remedial math.

Obsessive thoughts, spiteful biting comments, obsessions with dark media, lashing out and isolating away from everyone… This was not normal. This was not Alejandra Perea’s normal. To everyone else, it wasn’t like her not to care about things.

But she did care. Just not about the things everyone else thought was important.

She currently cared only about two things: the death of Frank Herbert, and Hector Filemón Perea.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…

“Mija, I know this isn’t ideal. But you’re strong. You’re going to do fine. Just please… Please try to make the best of this situation. Do it for me, huh?”

The scenery of green trees scattered among the brick-and-mortar buildings of Hawkins held no interest for Alejandra as she ignored her mother. Normally, she would have been captivated by all the greenery. Save for a few day trips to the Jemez Mountains, Alejandra had spent the majority of her life staring at the same desert scrub brush, sand wastes, clay mountains, and adobe houses. Along the road, there were trees and quaint little homes painted daisy yellow, gray white, or the occasional brick and mortar Georgian style home if the occupants were wealthy.

Not one person had the familiar mud brick walls or coyote fencing made of latillas and bailing wire.

Hawkins had boasted four seasons, farmlands with adorable animals, and that unique charm only available in a majority blue collar midwestern town. New Mexico had maybe three seasons and pissed off raza, but she would have given up four seasons and Midwestern charm for the sand and red clay mountains any day. New Mexico was closer to what was important.

New Mexico was closer to dad…

It only got worse as the car approached the high school. Carla pulled into the drop lane; the car still idle as she stared her daughter down with a hard gaze.

Absolutely no move was made to exit the vehicle despite the impatience of the cars behind them. Alejandra stared at the collective student body of Hawkins High with disdain, downright disgust even. As if she would rather swallow glass than get out of the Dodge. She began chewing on the sleeve of her large jacket, already beads of sweat were forming on her forehead from the balmy morning with high humidity.

“Stop chewing on it, you mensa, you’re going to ruin the sleeve!” Carla barked, swatting her daughter’s hand.

Alejandra moved the cuff away from her mouth but said nothing. Instead, she focused on fishing in the pocket of her oversized jacket for her one escape that didn’t have wheels. She produced a battered Walkman with a scratch and sniff sticker on the back. After opening the tape deck, she rooted through the various jewel cases of cassettes in her Igloo Playmate, yanking out a well loved tape from the depths and popping it in.

She pressed play. The volume was turned up so high that her mother scowled when she heard what was blasting from the orange foam speakers of the headphones.

“Come on mija, you couldn’t pick something happier for your first day?”

“Nope.” Alejandra growled, pushing the Walkman into her jacket pocket, “I’m not picking shit else. I’m going to play this fucking tape so loud, that everyone is going to stay far the fuck away from me. Fuck these people, and fuck you too.”

Despite her mother’s sputtering protests and grabbing hands she unbuckled herself, threw open the car door, slung the backpack over her shoulder, and slammed the car door on the way out as she ran towards the double doors.

Not even a whole minute had passed, and already Alejandra was making enemies out of the preppy crowd of Hawkins High. Stomping her way through throngs of students to the front office, she bumped the shoulders of anyone who got in her way, nearly sending some lanky string bean of a freshman flying into his little group of friends.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, frigid bitch!”

She barely heard him over the music, but she did catch the insult.

Who cares? Kick rocks. Kiss my ass. Fuck yourself with a bent tire iron, you little fucking twerp.

I will face my fear… I will permit it to pass over me and through me…

She hoped the coordination of the day would repel everyone too, not just her shitty attitude. Unlike everyone else who had set up their first day back ensembles with care the night before, Alejandra threw whatever she had on hand on. That morning she came to school in a black cardigan layered over top a gray linen dress, black tights layered with dirty socks, beat up Chuck Taylors that had been everywhere from White Sands to TRC, and her dark brown curls straightened with her trusty Gillette Supermax, sprayed in place with a liberal amount of Aquanet. The piece de resistance was the jacket. Even though it was the end of August, she wore a large Carhartt jacket covered in kitschy buttons and patches. Even in the hottest months of the year, that damn thing never came off.

“What are you wearing that jacket for?” asked the school admin assistant, in lieu of a good morning.

Alejandra shrugged noncommittally as she removed her headphones. She stood awkwardly in the front office, and was about to say some smart ass remark when the admin’s hard stare stopped her sharp tongue short.

“... you’re going to boil alive before lunch…” muttered the admin, fanning her neck with a manilla folder, “Heavens to Betsy, I’m sweating just looking at you!”

“... I’m a new student. May I have my school schedule, please…?” Alejandra grunted.

“Ah.” nodded the admin, pulling open one of the drawers on her filing cabinet, “Name?”

“Alejandra Perea…”

“There’s no one here by that name. I only see an Alexandra Pera here.”

Alejandra winced.

Are you fucking kidding me, bitch? Where on my fucking birth certificate did it ever say fucking “Alexandra”?! And how in the hell is “Perea” too difficult for you to say?!

“Yeah… That’s me.” she admitted, then couldn’t help herself, “Alexandra Perea.”

The admin stared down from her imposing cherry wood desk, eyes laser focused at Alejandra from over the top of her large bifocals. Evidently, she did not appreciate being corrected.

“Young lady…” snapped the admin, tapping her eggplant colored nails against a file folder, “We do not tolerate troublemakers at this school. I suggest you quit playing your little games, and say your name correctly when asked. Is that clear?”

Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you-...

“Yes ma’am, thank you ma’am…” Alejandra muttered, looking at her shoes as she took the class schedule and locker assignment from the admin.

The headphones went back on as soon as the admin was done talking. That poor Walkman was blasting so loud, everyone else in the hallway was forced to listen in on James Hetfield’s vocals. That fucking bitch of an admin pissed Alejandra off so much, she could not help but lunge at and startle a few innocent girls in pastel color culottes as they passed by. It was her one line of defense; to deter the general populace of Hawkins High, she had decided to be a goddamned menace to anyone who could not give her a detention.

It was unfortunate really, because no matter how hard Alejandra tried to deter everyone away, it took her ten minutes to realize that Hawkins High– home of the Tigers– had fangs that could snap even the most ironclad of wills in half.

She was drastically underprepared for the high schooler’s reception to her take no shit attitude. One big dude in a letterman that she shoulder checked did not hesitate. He checked her right back, right into the tan lockers lining the halls. The resounding crash of her body colliding with metal was loud and embarrassing, causing a few passing members of the pep squad to point and laugh. As they passed they said hateful, evil, ignorant shit, screaming it into Alejandra’s ear while yanking her headphones off. They wanted her to hear everything. One even yelled out a slur.

All the hate caught her off guard, and she almost checked someone else by accident.

“Watch where you’re going, fucking gap tooth bitch!”

A foot flashed out from some wastoid and sent Alejandra toppling. She would have hit the floor and broken her glasses, had not her oversized jacket caught on the door handle to the girl’s bathroom. She hung there for a few seconds, and felt everyone’s eyes on her. Ugly peals of laughter followed. Her face turned crimson.

I will permit my fear… no… I will allow… No! I… I will permit my fear to pass over me and… and through me…?

It was fucking humiliating. She wanted everyone to go away and leave her alone. Yet in her hubris and rebellion, the attempts at being a badass only ended up attracting every kind of attention she did not want.

Pulling herself off the handle, she immediately threw open the door and hid in the girl’s bathroom. Pushing past a girl in a blue gingham sundress and a strawberry blonde side ponytail, she ran for the nearest empty stall to lock herself in. The tears could not wait until she was sure the bathroom was empty. Loud and uncontrolled sobs began to emit from her throat, the noises so awkward she did not hear the whispers of the other girls as they exited the facilities.

Fuck this day. Fuck this town. Her arm was hurting from where she hit the lockers, her pride was wounded, and Alejandra wanted out. If she could just run away now and hitchhike with the first car she saw, she would do it.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

This was not how the second senior year was supposed to go. Senior year was supposed to be the last hoorah. A happy time to start preparing for reality. For college plans. Not a time to be stuck in a small Midwestern town that felt like a foreign country. And certainly not a time to be dealing with racist, shit attitudes.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…

Dainty footsteps approached the stall as Alejandra bawled like a baby, a soft knock on the door making her freeze.

“Go away!” she cried, voice small and hoarse from the sobbing.

I will face my fear…

“… Hey it’s… It’s going to be okay…”

A soft, delicate voice answered. Not one familiar tone in that voice, the only hint to the identity of the one speaking was a pair of powder blue pumps at the opening of the bottom of the stall. Alejandra did not know the girl, nor did she want to.

“Go away…” she begged, face burning with embarrassment as she groveled like a prisoner for her freedom.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me…

“Please… Please just go away and leave me alone!”

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see that you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, cabrona�� Quien te tiene?

The blue pumps hesitated, but eventually walked away. Leaving Alejandra to her sobbing.

She sat there on the toilet crying until the late bell rang, and everyone had cleared out of the bathroom to their first period class. With her glasses all smudged up from tears and snot, she took a moment to wipe them off with the hem of her dress, and eventually exited the stall with her tail between her legs.

Stopping at the sink, she began cleaning up. Alejandra took off her glasses and began washing her face with cold water. Blotting with a paper towel, she took a deep, cleansing breath and exhaled, before making up her mind.

She would not be going to class today, or ever again for that matter.

Every part of her mind was made up. Now it would only be a matter of time to find an out.

The gears were turning as she put her headphones on, fast forwarding the cassette to her favorite song before sliding the orange headphones over her ears. Maybe she could walk home, steal Jaime’s ranfla to make her escape. No, probably she should walk down the road to the elementary school and steal the Aspen. Mom’s sedan was inconspicuous, and it would blend into the sea of cars on the freeway better than Jaime’s well loved blue 1972 Chevy Monte Carlo.

Besides, the Chevy was out of the question until Jaime got back from work at the Hawkins Water Utility, and she was not going to wait that long for him to come home. The elementary school was a closer walk, and as she walked out of the girls bathroom without checking if the coast was clear, she began to formulate how she was going to break into and hotwire her mom’s car (she knew how to do neither of these things, but she thought a good old college try couldn’t hurt).

As Alejandra power walked to the front entrance double doors, she heard nothing. Saw only the sweet promise of freedom. Walking quickly, unaware of the noise she was making, and drastically underprepared for the biggest shock of her life.

She felt herself being snagged by the backpack straps, her heart dropping into her ass as she was pulled to a chest.

The headphones were yanked from her ears, and a low voice with hot breath began muttering in her ear.

“You’ve got bitchin’ taste in music there, princess.”

Alejandra jumped ten feet, and screamed.

“FUCK ME FREDDY!”

“ Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken. ” - Frank Herbert

[themsource]

Circus BSP AU

Soooo...had an idea that's been on my mind a while. Decided to share it because I know I haven't updated anything in a bit and I've been so busy with Secret Santas x_x

Anyways it's a long ramble from my ideas folder, not a real written piece, but I'm placing it below a cut ^^ This idea came to me while listening to Panic! At The Disco's cover of The Greatest Show a while back. I don't know if this has been done before but meh, just wanted to post my take on a circus au with the baddies

Rating: M

TWs: Mentions of torture, Kidnapping, Enslavement, Near Drowning

Nightmare and Dream own their own opposing circus rings. Dream recruits willing participants and their shows are always about love and positivity with graceful displays of athletics like ribbon dancing and aerial silk suspension, baton twirling and contortion, even godly fast speed painting with neon glowing soul magic to show an individual's ultimate dream even if they don’t know it themselves and store it in a personalized orb to take home as a memento for personalized viewing whenever you please. 

Nothing risky or seemingly life threatening/daredevil stunted. 

No, that’s Nightmare’s theme. 

In contrast he doesn’t recruit, he steals and binds individuals into contracts that can only be broken at his word or their untimely death should it occur. His ring has all the horrifying and thrilling shows that leave the audience anxious and on their toes, like sword swallowing/knife throwing/nail walking/fire breathing (Killer), Lions and Tigers - many dangerous animal performances (Horror), highwire/cannonball (Dust), and Motorcycle acts like the Wall of death and globe of terror (Cross). 

Nets and other safety precautions are ignored, this is the highlight and draw of Nightmare’s circus alongside the ability for one of your “nightmares” to be engraved on a stone tablet using soul magic so you never have to experience them again once the show is over.

Whereas Dream gives away positivity to spread through the worlds, Nightmare collects negativity in a personal vault for his own sustenance (the stone tablets) while still supplementing what he takes with the experiences his circus gives. 

This is the point of contention with the brothers. Dream doesn’t like how Nightmare still puts out negativity while also taking it away - it’s a selfish redundancy in his mind and perceived as unbalance, and Nightmare feels the same about how Dream puts out positivity with his circus but doesn’t take any away not only making his job more difficult to keep the flows even but causing him more suffering with how positive a world will be once Dream holds a performance.

The brother’s once owned a circus together but it broke apart with Nightmare’s downfall. 

Everyone was eager to see Dream perform but didn’t care for Nightmare’s escape acts and often boo’d and shamed him leaving the worlds they tried to equally balance always too filled with positivity. One day Nightmare almost died attempting to perform a dangerous escape stunt that he’d concocted to try and gain the audience’s approval, and just when it seemed to be working he ran out of magic (having not slept or ate well as he should’ve the night before when he’d been practicing) and nearly drowned. 

Dream was able to pull him free and save him but it took the last of their dead mother’s apples which proved too powerful and shattered Nightmare who was left horrified at what he’d become - a true reflection of ‘a demon’ as people called him, and led to him abandoning Dream to go his own way as the too much positivity started causing him pain and to go into frenzied breakdowns that he’d frequently black out through.

Since then Nightmare has not performed an escape act again and now solely plays ringleader. His innate trauma when it comes to performing is what led to him deciding to bring others into his fold to accomplish his goals, though he doesn’t let anyone know that. 

He contracted Killer, Dust, Horror, and then Cross in that order. Stealing them away from their own personal hells he found them in when noticing how fearless they were in the face of horrors far worse than what he had devised, and how equally terrifying their own appearances and auras were and would contribute to the overall effect he was going for. To get them to sign, he tortured them in never ending loops of nightmares, uncaring for how it affected them until they agreed. 

Killer was forced to experience going numb and filling with emotion on and off again repeatedly, the pain of switching so rapidly sending him into a spiral until he begged to be freed. 

Horror was forced to watch his fellow monsters dust and suffer the insanity inducing hunger wracking his frame as if fresh over and over as his brother kept mutating before his eyes. 

Dust had to watch his brother dust before his eyes repeatedly at his own hand no matter how much he fought against it, the pain of which was always too much each reset he experienced in his own world but in the nightmare without the time to breathe between each death and no goal of stopping the human in mind Dust cracked. 

Cross was sent into isolation, only it was so much worse as he didn’t have the ability to communicate with himself (even trying to think to himself and hold an imaginary conversation didn’t work) and could only experience the slow crawling of time as a sharp cutting sensation across his bones.

At first the gang all understandably despise Nightmare and what he forces them to do but he’s uncaring of it. However slowly the boys begin to find actual enjoyment in their work and bonding together as they come up with new routine ideas which they loathsomely try to share with Nightmare. 

Nightmare begins to feel impressed, even enthused though he doesn’t show it at their forwardness and makes recommendations for how to better execute their ideas while approving them. This causes the boys to begin feeling a sense of freedom and control they haven’t felt in years even before being stolen away but they still don’t soften to Nightmare even as Nightmare begins to soften just a bit to them at their willingness.

It isn’t until Nightmare and his trope encounter Dream and his that the boys end up feeling anything at all other than hate to the dark lord. 

They witness the exchange between Dream and Nightmare, the hostility Nightmare has when he and Dream argue over who has the right to be in this world first as Dream speaks in passive aggressive words about Nightmare’s awful decision making and unbalanced influence which Nightmare scoffs at before turning the argument petty as he remarks over Dream’s soft and impassioned performances. 

The second Dream comments about how his trope is a work of art while Nightmare’s is nothing more than ‘a glorified torture show’ the boy’s hackles raise - offended, not liking how Dream assumes they hate what they do (not anymore at least) which makes his trope’s performances more genuine and better since they’re willing. 

The boys witness the face Dream makes of regret at Nightmare’s bitter parting (dream’s words having surprisingly irked him) but don’t say a word. Instead they sneak in that night to watch Dream’s so called ‘better performances’ and are left feeling bored, and commenting on how it’s too bright, too sparkly and how they can do so much better. 

‘at least with us the crowd are actually on their feet.’ Killer huffs. ‘yeah, screaming too.’ Horror drawls. ‘I like the ribbons, not gonna lie.’ as Cross tosses back a handful of popcorn and earns amused scoffs from the others. Dust gives a rare smirk. ‘i have an idea.’ 

Nightmare is in his room, staring down at an old faded paper article that looks as if it might crumble into ash at the faintest breeze while he tries to ignore the pain in his chest from the positivity flooding the air. It’s a headline advertising his old act, the one that led to his transformation, when Killer walks in. Killer notices the article before Nightmare manages to fold it up and slip it into a breast pocket. It twinges something in him as he asks about it and Nightmare feeling a rare moment of openness blandly tells him of what happened. 

Killer is surprised and sudden understanding clicks but Nightmare dismisses it with ‘nothing more than childish hopes and pointless memories, what is it you want killer?’ 

Killer smiles.

It’s the first time Nightmare has seen that expression on Killer’s face and his socket widens. He feels something precariously close to a thrill race his spine as Killer hums, ‘me and the guys were talking…”

Dream and his friends are beginning to perform the big finale when suddenly the lights go off and Killer comes on over the intercom, ‘well as much as i love that hello kitty and fluffy rainbow shit like the next guy, how about we get a real party started?’ and the lights strobe back on in a kaleidoscope of flashing colors as Nightmare’s gang appear round the top of the stage. 

Killer flipping a jewel encrusted knife, Dust spinning an iron balancing rod as if it were a small plastic baton, Horror posed tall and looming with his one ear’d white lion and black tiger, and Cross on his sterling silver colored motorcycle revving the engine.

‘UH, DREAM? WHAT IS–” Before Blue can finish the boys are descending and taking the stage. Horror crowds them off with his animals as Cross races around the arena pulling shocked awes from the crowd and Killer blows fire setting the hanging ribbons up into a blaze of glory, Dust using his balancing rod to propel himself into the air and land on the lighting supports much to many surprised shouts of awe and worry. 

Dream can’t help but stare silently along with Blue and Ink as the show is stolen from them and negativity begins to seep in from the shocked and concerned onlookers who can’t bring themselves to look away, even clapping as Horror narrowly dodges being attacked by his own lion to allow the beast to burst through one of Ink’s paintings.

Nightmare watches in stunned surprise, amusement, and dare he even think it…

Endearment.

When all is said and done the crowd goes home excited and raving about the unexpected twist and Dream is left fuming as he goes off about how childish and inappropriate that was. Nightmare shrugs him off as he glances over his shoulder at his smug trope and comments about how it was no decision of his own making. Sure he knew, but he didn’t tell Killer no, but Dream doesn’t need to know that. 

When they go home Killer and the boys all gain a new bit of respect for their ring leader, and even a bit of fondness at how he let them do as they pleased. It’s a slow crawl from there. Each of them taking the time to get to know Nightmare a little better after also being told by Killer about his past, even asking him to join them for dinner one day where Nightmare finds enjoyment watching and listening to them go back and forth like a bunch of rowdy roommates. 

Horror introduces him to the animals, and manages to calm the tiger enough to let Nightmare pet it. ‘her name’s mira.’

‘...You named her?’ 

‘yep, her and bosco.’ 

‘Is Bosco the lion?’ 

Horror looks oddly fond. ‘heh, no, he’s the gator. the lion is kimba, killer named him.’  

Dust invites him to help him as he works on repairing and calibrating his canon, handing him tools and reciting blueprints. ‘need better bolts, these are starting to strip.’ 

‘I never knew you were so…hands on, Dust.’ 

‘cross’ fault. i saw him babying that bike of his and got tired of having nothing to do.’ 

‘I see.’ 

There’s silence, an uncertainty. ‘...i want to repaint it. i don’t like the colors.’ 

Nightmare considers. ‘...Alright, what colors would you like?’ 

Dust’s smile reminds him of Killer’s. ‘heh.’

Cross takes him for a ride and shows him just how fast his bike can go. ‘SLOW DOWN YOU HEATHEN! THIS IS NOT A SHOW!’ 

‘c’mon nightmare! live a little!’ 

Nightmare shivers at feeling Cross’s hand guide his to his waist, his voice reminiscent of a whisper into his acoustics. ‘i won’t let you fall.’ 

Nightmare averts his gaze. ‘Falling is not the point!’ 

Killer…killer brings him outside and sets him on a blanket beneath the only tree for miles as he sharpens his blades, handing nightmare one after the other and telling him what kind they are like a teenager. ‘and this is a messer! it’s german for knife but looks more like a dagger.’ 

‘Interesting. You’ve taken care of these well.’ 

Killer smirks. ‘i take care of the things i care about.’ 

Nightmare raises a brow as he echos. ‘Care about.’ 

‘i don’t have to feel it to know that i care about it.’ The shrug he gives is indifferent, but the look is another matter entirely, one that brings a foreign heat to Nightmare’s cheeks. It feels like a flirtation, but it can’t be, he knows where he stands with him - with all of them. 

‘An even more interesting notion.’ he whispers.

It isn’t until he stumbles upon Horror pining Dust to a wall in a small forgotten hallway with Dust’s legs around Horror’s hips as they kiss that Nightmare realizes there’s a deeper bond between the members of his trope that he never noticed. One that they’re starting to willingly let him see as he spots Cross and Killer not long after training together with Cross pinned to the knife board as Killer sensually traces patterns across his bones with the tip of a finely oiled blade. It’s shocking how they managed to get away with this, hiding the fluctuations in their emotions from his notice.

The understanding spurs something in him that’s…genuine. 

On equal footing.

Killer notices his staring and holds eye contact just out of Cross’ line of sight as he kisses the other skeleton. The emotions are there now, raw and unfiltered. Desire, want…teasing. 

It’s an invitation.

Nightmare turns away and hides in his room thinking. He doesn’t know what he feels, not yet. But he does find himself wanting to, maybe, get a little closer to them. To know them, just as they’re obviously trying to do with him. 

He likes watching Horror train his pets, he enjoys seeing Cross flip over ramps and twirl his bike beneath him mid-leap, he finds amusement in Killer trying to paint the sky with words made of fire, and he can’t resist staring as Dust pretends multiple times as if he’s going to fall only to stand back upright confidently and with poise. He can’t help wondering if this is what friendship is, companionship. He thought he’d known that once with his brother but he’d been wrong. The feelings are too different.

So he…takes the risk. 

The dinners continue, the quality time, with him contributing by inviting them to let him read aloud of his books and going out to explore the worlds now before performing, but it all starts to weigh heavy on him and this manifests in him one day suggesting as Killer and Dust put forth a duet idea to suggest they use netting…in case of an accident.

The boys go silent, staring at him. 

Nightmare feels judged, and it’s made clear that he is when Killer says rather carelessly, ‘since when do you care about our safety?’ It’s then made clear to Nightmare that no matter how hard he tries, and no matter what they open up to him and he them, that he can’t be more or get closer. 

They will always see him as nothing more than their owner, their master. 

‘Forget I said anything.’

Nightmare is left torn, does he put everything on the line by offering to release their contracts in the hopes that they’ll stay when it’s far more likely they’ll run if given the chance? Or does he hold on, and get left standing alone to watch as an outsider on the bond between them just as he’s always been to the universe at large.

He tried to run before he could walk. This is the obstacle between them and the first step that he knows has to be taken, the rest of the moments they share are empty so long as the contracts exist. And not only that but the leagues he’ll have to go to make up for what he put them through when he first found them, if they dare to even give him the chance.

There’s a bitter, terrifying, decision to reach. 

Nightmare is in unfamiliar waters as he feels the sting of indecisiveness that he hasn’t felt since he was a child.

[cybercore-creations]

I just killed my Ex

Summary: Survivor!Danny x Fem!GF!Reader. Song fic based on "Kill Bill" by SZA

TWs: Murder, Stalking, Obsession, toxic relationships

She couldn't stay away. No matter how hard she tried, she still slunk around the survivors camp. Oh, how she wished you could just take him away, keep him all for herself, but unfortunately, kidnapping was not a perk that came with being the entity's favorite. Their blood boiled as he smiled at the blonde standing next to him. That smile should be for her. Her robe flowed in the wind as she turned around, leaving the area.

Of course she started with the mature idea. She spoke with other killers who told her that nothing ever good came from falling in love with Survivors. Nurse knew that best. Of course killers would make passes at eachother. Some strong bonds, other casual hook ups. "There was always other people" Amanda said with her arm around Hunteress. Just like Danny had Kate right now. No. She only wanted him and if she couldn't have him. No one could.

They were swept into the fog on a date. Danny loved nature walks, taking photos of everything. She loved them for scoping out a new base. Then the fog came. Pulling them apart. The entity was a sick bastard. At the beginning, she avoided killing Danny at all costs. When the entity finally threatened punishment, her hand (Well knife) was forced. But with him? No fun quips or a fucked up mori. Just a hook and moved on. He couldn't protect Kate then. That's when she had her fun. She'd rather put herself through the pain of killing Danny to get to the tattooed woman.

Every day, she hoped it was a fling. Danny was always a charmer. Girls practically threw themselves at him. After she found them walking hand and hand together in the woods like they used to do. "I wish I had my camera, you're the perfect model." He laughed. How she tried to spare him pain, but now the rage overcame her. Now, he'll be a victim like the rest. He didn't deserve her kindness anymore.

Danny and Kate were pretty much attached at the hip especially during trials. It made her sick. She wouldn't deny how beautiful Kate was. Shiny golden hair, perfect figure, intricate tattoos littering her skin. She couldn't blame Danny, he always went for the alternative girls. The fog swept over her as the trial began. Pulling up her tablet to see what survivors were playing his name was right on top, Kate's next to him. Now people would consider it fucked up for the entity to do that, but she smiled. Guess The Entity was reading her thoughts, giving her exactly what she wanted. She was ready to have him face down in a basement, snapping a pretty photo of his bloodied face.

Was it petty? Yes. She could have definitely been the bigger person and started treating him like everyone else. A victim, A piece of meat, apart of the game she had to win, but sadism was in her blood, even before the fog. She promised Danny she'd never hurt him when he first learned she was Ghostface, but promises get broken. He must of knew that as he protected Kate with everything he had. Now he was just a toy to torture however she wanted.

The first time she snapped a photo with him as he died, she sent a rush through her. It felt good. She expected it to break her heart like it did when she killed him regularly, but she was smiling this time. Though she still didn't give him the pleasure of hearing her voice. Even with the distortion by the modulator, he didn't deserve it. Easily hooking him up and laughing as the entity took him. In the distance, she watched a familiar woman run for a hatch. "Will this girl ever learn?" she mumbled, chucking her knife at Kate, directly hitting her in the neck. Huh, guess casual axe throwing with Huntress came in handy. As she came back to the camp, the other killers stared at her before Frank spoke up. "Huh, I never expected you to do it." "Love makes you do fucked up things kid." She sighed pulling her mask off. Nurse hugged her "Proud. Strong." She whispered barely speaking.

"What was that?" Claudette looked wide eyed. "Ghostface always goes easy on you Danny, what did you do?" "I'm... not sure?" He said, a bit shaken up with how quickly the behavior of the killer changed. "Well, he came the same time as you. Do you remember anyone it could be?" Dwight asked. Danny shook his head.

"Hey, maybe it's a girl." Nea suggested."No way. there's no way a girl could have killed him like that." Jake cut in."That is so sexist. The killer could easily be female. Basic Instinct." Nea rolled her eyes. "That was an ice pick. Not exactly the same as brutally bashing someone's skull into the concrete after they're dead. Takes a man to do that." Jake argued. "Or a man's mentality." Nea raised her eyebrows.

They didn't notice the killer hiding in the tree. "Huh, he really forgot about me." A slight hurt filled her chest. She KILLED for him before the fog. How could he forget that? How could he forget everything about her? Suddenly, that pain wasn't heartbreaking. It was rage, and it was no longer towards Kate.

All the other survivors were dead. The last hour was a game of Cat and Mouse between. "Oh Danny. Why are you running." She called out, pout in her maculated voice. Danny's hands shook slightly as he worked on the generator. Quietly she creeped next to him. "Boo" She whispered next to his ear. As he got up he attempted to run, only to be shoved to the floor.

"Danny, Danny, Danny" She sighed "What to do with you" She stood over his back. "You know if you would have stayed loyal the entity wouldn't have served you to me on a silver fucking platter" She laughed sitting on his back. "What?" He breathed out. She drove her knife into the back of his back like she'd done many times before but this time was different. She pulled up her mask over her lips and pulled him up by his hair. Her warm breath fanning over his ear. "Smile for the camera sweetheart." Click.

[she-karev]

Girl’s Night In

Previous Part Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Five of Five

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Summary: Amber and April face massive hangovers the morning after with Jackson as their amused nurse.

Words: 1181

Chapters Links: 1,2,3,4,5

March 26th, 2020

April slowly wakes up and quickly regrets it. A throbbing headache comes to her as well as body aches that makes her want to stay where she is. Flat on her stomach on Jackson’s couch. Unfortunately, she knows as a doctor that Advil and hydration are the best remedies for the killer hangover, she has this second.

The redheaded surgeon groans before using the little strength she has to pick herself up off Jackson’s expensive couch. She is successful in sitting but her brain racks questions as she looks down to see that instead of her pink button-down pajamas she’s wearing a men’s black shirt.

Her mind freezes for a moment before sniffing it to confirm her theory. The musky cologne and natural body odor she recognizes too well tells her that she is wearing Jackson’s shirt over her underwear and nothing else.

She looks around the room franticly before her eyes land on the empty dark hair dye box and she remembers she wasn’t alone last night.

“She-Karev?!” April yells out in the large penthouse causing footsteps to approach her from behind. She looks to see Jackson walking towards her from the kitchen in his black wifebeater and black sweatpants carrying a tall glass of water.

“Good morning, April.” His happy tone and smile make April feel unsettled, not remembering everything that happened after she and Amber drank double digit alcohol shots last night.

Jackson drops a hangover tablet inside the glass causing the water to start to fizz, “I thought you might need one of these. Or ten from what I walked in on last night after my shift ended.”

Jackson chuckles at April’s wide eyes as she takes the glass. She registers her pink pajamas from last night discarded on the coffee table and looks up at Jackson who still has a goofy grin on his face.

April gulps at the thought of them breaking their promise before April took up Jackson’s offer to move in. They both agreed that sleeping together so soon after their respective relationships ended would be catastrophic but they both knew they needed to quarantine together for Harriet’s sake.

Now as April sits on the couch in Jackson’s shirt, she is seriously starting to question what the hell she did last night to make her ex-husband break the pact. The only way to find out is to ask him.

“Please tell me we didn’t…” Jackson frowns confused causing April to glare at him before moving her eyes to the discarded pajamas posing the question without actually saying it. Jackson looks in that direction and it takes a moment before he understands causing him to grin amused.

“Your hilarious when your hungover April.” Jackson grabs the pajamas and hands them to April who looks slightly relieved, “Don’t worry I know better than to take advantage of my very drunk ex wife after her strip tease in my living room.”

April coughs on the water she’s sipping, “I’m sorry what?”

Jackson chuckles, “Yeah, don’t worry you did it of your own free will. On top of the coffee table. In front of Amber. For half an hour.”

April groans from both the memory and the headache. She sips her water before an urgency compels her to look for a toilet. She holds her hand over her mouth and runs to Jackson’s bathroom.

Amber Karev is leaning her forehead against the porcelain bowl joining April in the hangover misery. April moves Amber out of the way before expelling the contents of her stomach into the toilet with Amber leaning against the wall next to her groaning in disgust.

April finishes but still has her head above the toilet with Amber still next to her sharing her pain.

“I am never, ever drinking again for as long as I live.”

Amber grins slightly, “Yeah that’s what I always say and then I end up back in the bottle. Quick question did I break a panda out of the zoo last night?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“It must have been a dream then. Or one of those horror movies I picked out.” Amber chuckles, “Oh man do you remember when we watched the Terrifier? And how much you screamed when that clown ran over that girl before eating her face off?”

April throws up again at the mention of it causing Amber to pat her back. April groans as she stops again, “New rule, the morning after we put four kinds of alcohol into our digestive system there will be no talk of faces being eaten off. Either that or I pick the movies the night before deal?”

“Deal. I gotta tell you Apes.” April glares at Amber for using Alex’s demeaning nickname for her but the younger Karev doesn’t notice as she continues, “I didn’t think a girl’s night in would make me feel better. I thought I would spend most of the night either drinking my troubles away in despair and hating you as a substitute for going to my exes with a battering ram. Basically, I expected last night to be a total disaster.”

“For one of us it was.” April tells Amber in a weak voice.

“But it wasn’t.” Amber grins at April who is still frowning, “I didn’t feel like a burned out surgeon or a heartbroken girl I felt like a person living her life. You dyed my hair, I dyed yours, we drank like college girls at their first sorority and for the first time in a while I didn’t feel like complete crap. And I have you to thank for that.”

April looks at Amber touched by her sincerity feeling good that her plan worked after all. April groans at the consequences of her plan however, “Of course I know I was second choice since Harriet was with her grandma, but I am letting that go.”

April chuckles before she throws up again causing Amber to hold her hair back and groan at the sight, “Oh god when did I eat pasta?” April throws up more.

Jackson sighs at the sight as he enters the bathroom, “Wow it looks like the bad scenario I have of Harriet once she goes to college.”

Amber narrows her eyes at her friend while tending to April who dry heaves, “You know it’s a good thing you’re a doctor.”

“Why is that?” Jackson asks.

April finishes in between heaves, “Because you suck as a nurse.” The women chuckle before April throws up again and Amber winces before turning to Jackson with a pleading face.

He looks up at the ceiling in despair but fills in for Amber. He pulls April’s hair back and tries not to gag at the smell while April vomits. He rubs her back in circles and barely notices Amber walking away from them with a knowing grin on her face as Jackson and April spend some quality time together. Even if it was over a toilet while one of them was hungover. Amber will still take the win and heads to the kitchen for some much needed coffee.

[ditz-emmy]

Study Session

Harriet rubbed her eyes in an attempt to relieve the dull pain she felt behind them. A long day of studying was catching up with her, the short brunette had spent hours with her head buried in notes in an attempt to ensure a top mark on the upcoming exam. She had received higher marks than anyone else in her class on every assignment so far and as much as she tried to separate her self-worth from her academic achievement, it was difficult when she felt like that was the only thing she had going for her. The dull pain became louder, she was developing a killer headache. Luckily, she was working through a topic she was very familiar with, brushing up on enzymes, and decided a break would do her some good.

"Maddie", she called out to her study partner, who was currently fetching herself a drink. "Would you get me some painkillers?"

After a few moments, the tall, blonde woman returned from the kitchen.

"Here you go, love," Maddie said as she passed the bookish girl a glass of water and two tablets. 

Harriet scowled, she hated being called that. She looked at the pills for a moment before throwing them into her mouth and washing them down with some water. She thought they were odd, they were a peculiar shade of pink, she'd seen pink tablets before but she had never seen this exact shade. But without reason to be suspicious, the thought passed as quickly as it arose.

As Harriet went to thank her friend, she was hit with a wave of dizziness; as if she'd stood up too fast. She assumed she'd swung her head too far back while gulping down her water but when the dizziness didn't subside she started to worry, she started to sweat a little. Or maybe it was getting hotter? Harriet and Maddie had been sitting on the floor, gathered around the coffee table in Maddie's living room. It had been cool all day, especially with the floor just below her crossed legs, but she was suddenly feeling like she needed to open a window. 

"Doing okay, babe?" Maddie enquired, a slight smile heard in her voice.

"Y-yeah, just a little hot"

Harriet wasn't really comfortable with her blonde friend's use of pet-names, but she didn't have the energy to muster up a complaint. Not knowing what else to do, she decided to end her break early and get back to her work. But as she looked down at the page, she was lost. She couldn't remember where she had gotten up to. More than that, she was struggling to understand what many of her notes meant. She chastised her past self for poor note taking before realising that she was struggling to recall what many of the words she had written meant. Her brow furrowed, she had done all of this before, a lot of this topic had been covered in her high school science classes even! She stared, open mouthed at the page. She felt really warm now, and her head felt heavy. There was a voice in her head telling her something was wrong.

Maddie hadn't sat down. Instead she was standing, a few metres away from the confused girl, grinning. Harriet moved her body to face her.

"W- What did you do..." Her words were slurred, her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on the bulge in her friend's skirt, a trickle of drool fell down her chin.

"Nothing much, darling, nothing you should worry about"

The words relaxed her, the voice in her head screaming at her to get away from Maddie got a little quieter, and she kept staring at her friend's bulge. Maddie noticed and walked a step closer, and then a step closer- up until the bulge was only half a foot away from the drooling woman's face and her eyes were almost crossed trying to stare at it. Harriet was drooling, part of it was because she was so disoriented at this point she couldn't keep her mouth closed, part of it was because the outline of Maddie's large cock was forcing her head to fill with lewd thoughts. Since she'd laid eyes upon it, images of wrapping her lips around it wouldn't leave her head. Harriet got on her knees, and shuffled even closer to the cock.

"I.. I wanna.." Harriet couldn't conjure up any words, she wanted to suck it. But she didn't know how. She knew there was a cock under her friend's clothes and she knew she wanted it in her mouth, but the brunette didn't have the brain cells to figure out how to get the cock free from its textile prison.

"Aw, poor baby. Do you wanna suck my cock?" Maddie cooed in a sing-song voice. Teasing Harriet, not that she was smart enough to recognise it. The airhead nodded, but that wasn't enough for Maddie. "Say it. I know it's hard for a stupid slut like you, but say you want to suck my cock."

Harriet frowned. The lady with the cock was so mean to her. She was slurring all her words and the mean lady was making her talk to get to the cock! But she had to try. She needed it in her mouth.

"I wanna.... I wanna suck your- your cock!" Harriet slurred victoriously, she was so proud of herself.

"Good slut."

Harriet shivered. Maddie reached down and pulled down her skirt. Freeing her large, pale cock from its confines. If Harriet still had anything left inside her head she would have recognised that Maddie hadn't been wearing any panties but she didn't have anything in her head. At least, she didn't until she stuffed the cock into her mouth. She let out a muffled moan as she did so. As Maddie grabbed her hair and started forcefully guiding the sluts head up and down her cock, Harriet felt a warmth inside her, a feeling of happiness, of belonging. Harriet was a dumb cock-slut. Each time the cock hit the back of her throat she felt more and more of her intelligence drain away permanently,  the voice that questioned this, that knew it wasn't right, got quieter and quieter.

With little warning except a husky moan, Maddie forced Harriet's head down as she came down the former genius' throat. And as Harriet happily swallowed the cum, the last trace of any of her intelligence disappeared. The voice was gone, replaced with the new Harriet. And new Harriet and Maddie's cock were going to have a lot of fun together.