#sorry these are all so fucking depressing

[cthulhus-curse]

Surprise, Surprise

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,561

Warnings: Ghostface WandaNat, Darkfic, Mommy Kink, Daddy Kink, Murder, Knife Play, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Degradation, Strap-Ons | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: In which you find out the culprits of your former partner's death and receive more than what you bargained for.

On the one year anniversary, you failed to open your eyes in time. Regardless of the insistent beeping from the alarm, the voice from downstairs shouting your name along with the mocking chirps of the birds beneath your window, you remained still. The sole humoring of yet another year without your one and only, the person who you once deemed as the love of your life, made your bones chill while your blood ran cold. 

But of course your parents simply brushed it off. They knew of the difficulty you had to carry on leading up to the days of the first anniversary, and yet your mother didn’t do much but bark at you to get ready as the bus was leaving. Another morning in the hellish town of Westview. Oh how you longed to gain independence once the final semester of your senior year had passed. Only a few weeks left and school would be out. Then you’d finally move to the other side of the country leaving all your dismay and fury towards the town behind. 

Upon your arrival at school, a brown bag filled with half a sandwich and an apple you didn’t have the appetite for, all eyes were on you. It hadn’t missed you. The pity each person felt, the laughter behind closed doors at your loss. And yet no one dared utter her name. Kate Bishop. Was it that hard? For someone who hadn’t dared mutter it out into the world since the day of her disappearance, the presumed death you had long accepted to be true, you ought to cut everyone else some slack. 

“Good morning. I didn’t think you’d show up today,” came the greeting from your best friend. Thor was many things, but easy with his words was not one of them. “You know, with Kate’s death and everything. You didn’t take the day off.”

Each sound coming from his wretched mouth made your blood boil. “Yeah no shit Sherlock. I’m here, aren’t I?” You didn’t need to turn as the two of you waltzed down the packed hallways dripping with pity for you to know his worry faltered into hurt. “Sorry. I’m just a bit shaken up today for obvious reasons. Mom and dad didn’t think it was that bad so here I am. They said we didn’t know each other that well for me to be depressed. I mean, fuck, we knew each other since we were kids. How can they say that?”

“I’m sorry,” Thor mumbled, placing a sympathetic arm upon your upper back. “We can skip together if you want.”

“I’m not skipping class. They’ll kill me for that.”

“Oh like they killed Kate?” came a voice you knew so well from behind you. “I can’t wait until her body is found. It’s going to be so gross.”

Since the dawn of middle school, one Natasha Romanoff had taken it upon herself to reign hellfire down your life. A day didn’t go past where your classmate treated you with even an ounce of dignity. Somehow she got worse as time passed, especially once the whole incident with Kate occurred. 

You hadn’t attended school for weeks when she suddenly disappeared back in junior year. Your girlfriend of almost a year, a friend for longer, had left you behind to fend for yourself. Regardless of how many manhunts the police went on, the tedious nights you ran through the forest with the hopes of finding her until Thor had to drag you back to safety, Kate was gone. She probably skipped town so she didn’t have to deal with your sorry ass, was what Natasha always repeated. After weeks of such treatment, you began agreeing. 

“What’s wrong? Oh you’re not gonna cry, are you?” Natasha teased as she smacked your arm. Her reddened hair was up in a french braid, viridescent eyes darting down your body. “How pathetic. Does the little baby need a tissue, huh?”

Before you dared reply with a peace of your mind, there came her savior flying down the hall.

“Nat, stop. Don’t be such a dick.” Wanda Maximoff, the feared bully’s girlfriend, stood between you and the redhead. She flashed you an empathetic smile that you took as Thor’s nostrils flared. He didn’t like the so-called feigned kindness Wanda showered you with. “Are you alright today, sweetie? I can’t even begin to imagine how horrible you must be feeling. You know that if there’s ever anything you need, I’m right here for you. We all miss her so much. We got your back, Y/N.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Natasha grumbled low enough beneath her breath so that it was only hearable to her girlfriend. 

“Thanks, Wanda. You’re always so nice to me. I think I’m just a bit checked out today. Here’s to hoping the day goes by quickly.”

“It will if we skip class,” Thor pointed out. 

“As president of the student body I could never endorse that,” Wanda giggled. As a hand held a few of her books, Natasha’s arm wrapped carefully across her waist, she placed the other one on your arm with friendly banter. “You take care of yourself, honey. Take some breaks throughout the day, drink some water, and focus up on good things. The day will go by before you even know it.”

Never did you notice the hunger which Natasha eyed you with as she found herself exhilarated by the way her girlfriend held you so close – the disgust she felt towards your friend was lost in the air. Gripping Wanda’s waist, she silently begged for permission to strike. A knowing look from the shorter brunette forced her to lay back and wait. Soon enough they’d have you. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“Did you hear the news?”

Those five words were ones you hadlong accustomed yourself to feel great disdain for. Upon the sound of them through the door of the last class of the day, you shuddered. You didn’t dare look up, losing yourself within the dread that overtook your soul. The seat next to your own had been empty throughout the period. 

Thor never skipped without giving you a head’s up. 

Upon hearing through hushed whispers and more stares your way, you ran out of the bathroom. The hint of bile which rose from your throat was held off until you reached a stall where you threw yourself, dumping out all the remaining torturous grief still carried from Kate’s loss alongside Thor’s. News spread quickly through the school, of course they did, but being shown a picture posted on a sock account on social media of Thor sprawled across the football field, eyes wide shut with a pair of knives lodged in his chest made you fall. 

You hadn’t found it in you to remove yourself from the floor. The walls across you turned, mocking your misery. The image of your best friend was clear in your mind. He was sweet, a caring man who wouldn’t dare hurt a fly, a complete lovable idiot who spent his days either playing sports or taking Jane out to whatever movie was being shown that weekend. No one hated him, but then again, no one had a reason to hate Kate either. 

Seeing him that morning so full of life made it impossible for you to humor the death, the macabre gore you had taken a slight look on someone’s phone, upon his cadaver. 

The day had ended there, the school dismissed halfway through the final class. The student body couldn’t be more thrilled to escape their prison as they grieved Thor’s surprise death in their own ways. As you strode through the halls ignoring the loudspeaker, calling your name to the school counselor’s office, and numerous classmates sobbing against the lockers, you carried on a somber expression. No sound was hearable, no hint of emotions or life within your features as people tried expressing their pity your way. 

Wanda’s cheerfulness creepily crawled out as she held onto Natasha’s hand, dragging her away to follow you. They’d get what they wished for, what they had longed for years. It was only a matter of time before they broke you entirely. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“I’m really sorry about what happened, kid. I can’t imagine it’s easy to lose the two most important people in your life like that. You know, we’re all here to talk about it if you’d like. Me, your mom, your dad, and some of your other friends. You’re not alone, okay?”

 And yet it felt that way. 

You couldn't muster hearing another word that came from your therapist. Since Kate’s death she had been there every step of the way. Although not by choice, you visited Dr. Danvers twice a week for almost a year. She was nice enough, the sole person who at least pretended to not pity you in a believable manner. But you knew that beneath every ‘sorry’ thrown your way, there was feigned sadness. 

“Do you want to tell me more about Thor?” Carol questioned softly. Each bout of words were like a dozen daggers crackling through your skin, a painfully lonely existence without your favorite two people alive. “We can talk about something else if you’d like.”

“It’s fine.” Those were the first words you had spoken upon your arrival – almost half an hour into the session. “I just miss him. I miss her.” It took all your willpower to not break down in front of your therapist. Never would you dare bring yourself to uttering their names again. “He died the day he went away. How is that even possible? I just…I can’t do this anymore. I can’t go back to school and have everyone staring at me like I’m a sad freak. Just the thought of going back makes me think of them. Why did it happen? Why on that day?”

Carol held herself back from speaking, taking a second to revise her verbiage before responding. “Honey it was probably just a coincidence. Maybe someone was playing a sick joke. I really don’t have a good answer for you, I’m sorry.”

All that went through your brain was the image of Thor ingrained, burnt to ashes into your mind. Countless nights had been spent with lifeless eyes staring into the ceiling, boring your misery into your sole safe place. When tormented with agonizing experiences, you simply hid beneath the covers of the bed which shielded you from the outside. Numerous calls and texts from friends and family members had gone unanswered. Not even your parents could do more than to leave a plate of food by your door that was returned half-eaten. 

“Do you have thoughts about hurting yourself, Y/N?”

Within the depths of your darkest desires you wished to pull the knife from Thor’s body and throw it Carol’s way. “Are you fucking kidding me? How dare you?”

“It’s just something we have to cover because-”

“Because what? Jesus, Carol, my girlfriend disappeared a year ago and I had to see my best friend dead in the fucking school yard. And the only thing you care about is whether I’m killing myself or not?” The selfishness of it caused your distress to turn to fury as hands turned to fists. She cared about her job before your own well-being, about making sure you didn’t do anything which could taint her reputation. “I’m done with this. Don’t bother about rescheduling for later this week.”

Storming out the therapist’s office, you didn’t pay any mind to a peculiar couple sitting together at the waiting room, a redhead’s arm wrapped around a brunette. When green eyes twinkled, the smaller woman mumbled. “That's our next target. We can have a bit more fun with this one. Let’s make the bitch bleed, shall we?”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

A gruesome amount of blood coated the horribly sharp beam across her features. Wanda looked down, pleased to watch the pattern her partner followed. She had long memorized what to do, what tools to use, where to carry out such fun, and how to clean up. Never would she get caught with the intricate manner in which the young woman took her victims. Since her rather adventurous adolescence she had grown used to the mesmerizing way a person lost their sanity, their life, at her hands. 

“Right there, baby. One across her neck like that,” she tenderly instructed. “Just like I taught you.”

Natasha had come to her in the early years of high school. The firecracker was easily set off by her constant anger targeted at everyone around her, but as a confident force herself, Wanda tamed the beast that lay within the redhead. Little by little she was morphed into a willing pet who, although impulsive, required care and guidance over their fun pastime. 

Rather than follow the advice, Natasha kept slapping the knife down on Carol’s chest. Unadulterated fury was thrown over the therapist after she had made you cry. The fixation with you had begun in her younger years, always watching you prance around the halls, a lone-wolf who she knew desired to be claimed. No one dare step up and take what the world knew was rightfully hers. Her wishes were solely to get you on your knees, to push you down far enough to the point you required her support to get back up. She wouldn’t let a lowly shrink and your friend get between that. Wanda only went on with her obsession. 

“Don’t tell me how to do it. I’m not an idiot,” Natasha spat between gritted teeth. Her body was coated in a fresh set of scarlet paint. Although she was new to taking such a brutalistic approach to her need for you, she wouldn’t allow herself to be dominated by someone like Wanda. Of course little did the redhead know that she was fully wrapped around her girlfriend’s finger already, their shared grip upon you being far too delicious to let go – the thought of you always fresh in their minds as one got the other off. 

“Watch your tone.” While much softer, Wanda wouldn’t dare allow herself to be treated lowly.  “Here, let mommy help. Don’t you want to be a good girl for me? Don’t you remember that it was me who showed you how to get your prized puppy?”

“Yes.”

Wanda’s smirk was wide at that. To have both you and Natasha under her control was far too exquisite – she drowned in the power she held, playing god as she took the lives of those who defied her. “Yes what?”

“Yes, mommy.”

As soon as the defeated words were sighed, the thumping against the chest cavity of the blonde was put to a rest. Natasha sagged her head as she ran a palm oozing with blood against her face, humming at the safety it brought her. Soon enough they’d break you; soon enough you’d be theirs.

Taking a life in her hands with a lost one beneath, Wanda, the deity, tilted her head. She ran a hesitant thumb across Natasha’s cheek to take in all the exhaustion carried upon those muscular shoulders, her arms weak as she submitted. The shining promise rings upon each of their left hands signified the momentous devotion towards the other. Long had they waited for freedom. 

The separation the two of them had with you was torturous. Unabashed ire was cast upon those who they saw fit to be their lab rats. Nothing but trash which they rummaged through to find the perfect way to have you. Such displaced aggression was only the beginning of their turbulence coming undone. 

“There’s my good girl. Now look at how mommy does it, Natalia. Cut her like this.” Wanda allowed Natasha to remove herself from on top the therapist. The taller of the two kneeled before her master, green eyes in a frenzy as they watched on carefully. The previously dull, red blade was substituted by a mint knife coming from Wanda’s side. Although wearing just a plaid skirt, a white button-down, and high-knee socks covered by Converse, she found it to be a perfect outfit. Nothing could compare to the surprise they’d have for you. “See?”

Wanda took her time, exuding patience across the office as she dragged the freshly sharpened blade across Carol’s neck. Choked sobs, her breathing becoming shallower by the second as she could barely take in any air, was music to the young women’s ears. The orchestra that was desperation mixed with ghastly sloshing sounds whenever the skin was punctured was exquisite. 

With her chest covered with ruptures, Carol was nearly thrown over the edge, Wanda holding her back so she could spend her last few moments facing harrowing pain. 

“That’s beautiful. I like how red it is,” Natasha pointed out as she licked her lips, noting exactly how her partner danced the knife on Carol’s throat – not too deep or shallow. “Is she in pain? How can you tell if this hurts more than what I was doing?”

“You didn’t take your time, sweetheart. You need to go slow, let them feel every single second of it. The poor thing can barely breathe, let alone call out for help. You did good there, but you can’t let yourself get carried away like that. Give your pets special care. Have some fun with them,” Wanda explained as she drew copious bouts of blood from Carol’s neck, the woman losing consciousness as her eyelids grew heavier with the stench of death surrounding the four walls. “The red treat is really yummy too, but not hers. This one is tainted, she hurt our prized possession. That’s why she has to pay. Anyone who keeps us away from our angel needs to suffer the consequences. When we get to Y/N you can taste her. Maybe I’ll even let you take the lead once you’ve had more training. Would you like that, daddy?”

“Yes,” Natasha was breathless with excitement. “Yes, mommy.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

With the end of school looming over, you spent your days crawling across the woodboards of the house. Since the unfaithful day where you had to first hand experience the shame of waltzing around the packed hallways wallowing in your own grief, you hadn’t left the safety of the four walls of your bedroom unless it was to go outdoors for a few minutes, gathering food, and simply returning to your cave. 

A handful of your other friends had visited. Steve brought flowers and your favorite dessert, Bucky by his side offering a sympathetic smile while handing you a bag filled to the brim with only your favorite foods, movies, fuzzy socks, and even a stuffed animal. Little by little, they trinkled by, but as time kept moving forth, they left you behind. 

Thor’s funeral was the only chance you gave yourself to escape the house. Throughout the somber ordeal at the town’s sole cemetery you gripped Jane’s hand, remaining unfazed as she sobbed against your shoulder. ‘Bring him back’, she repeated, the mantra stuck in your mind for sleepless days, arms wrapped around a goat stuffed animal Thor had once won for you at a carnival. The pain which his girlfriend felt, the misery embodied by her pleas and cries over his casket, was an exemplary manner in which the two of you were joined by the hip. 

Even afterwards the two of you strode aimlessly around the area, Jane attempting to let out incoherent words of sadness through choked cries, you didn’t have an ounce of emotions that barreled down what you concluded was a cold heart. You didn’t dare cry at the funeral, the rain allowing you to camouflage beneath its wetness and remain hidden in shame. Tears had already dried up when Kate disappeared. You only wished Thor could forgive you for the lack of sentiment that you displayed. 

Then yet again it was time to return home to your depressed, ragged, unconscious state. 

You parents had long given up on so little as attempting to interact with you. They didn’t have to spew their venomous words for you to realize that being by your side drained them. The agony which you were in was humorous to them. Late nights you find yourself hearing them chat from down the hall in their rooms, mumbling about how you’d be better off moving away, how they were the ones to suffer at the loss of their daughter, not you when never so much as being allowed to say goodbye to your loved ones. 

Rather than incite an argument which would not easily culminate, you hid out in your bedroom until the day they set off on their vacation. You were old enough to be alone, and yet you knew that according to Carol it was best to be surrounded with support – the thought of the woman made you frown momentarily, rummaging through the hot mess that had been your last appointment. Oh how you wished she’d answer your texts apologizing for your outburst with the hopes of scheduling another session. Radio silence was your best friend. 

In the moment your parents went away, you merely hugged them goodbye. Without their judgemental gazes you allowed yourself to further grow, to explore areas of the house you had barely set foot on during the lowest moments of your life. Truth be told most of your hours were spent on the terrace watching mother nature’s cool dance welcoming the summer – Kate’s favorite season. 

When nightfall overtook the town of Westview you sprawled yourself over the bed. The lack of parental guidance gave you the motivation to take everything at your own pace, to sparse out the food through the day, but still make an effort to keep yourself alive. If only your parents didn’t wish to shove a plate of food down your throat every waking moment then perhaps your mind wouldn’t refuse the slightest bit of pasta curated for yourself. 

It was a shame, really. Not taking care of yourself only left room for someone to swoop in and do it for you. With a peculiar redhead and a lanky brunette sitting in a heating car outside your home, they volunteered to take the vacant position.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“Shhh you have to be quiet, baby. Otherwise you’ll wake up mommy and then I’ll have to punish you. Do you want that, sweet one? Oh I don’t think you do. You’re a good girl. I know you can behave for mommy and daddy.”

Stuck in your dreams, the imagined soothing voice of Wanda Maximoff brought you peace. You hummed at it, snuggling closer to your stuffed animal, your guardian, as you pretended for it to be her. She’d be the sole saving grace of your livelihood regardless of the interesting choice of words spewed your way. 

“Pretty girl. Just look at how fucking pathetic she looks. Can we start now, mommy?” At the sound of Natasha’s voice, you frowned. The tenderness within it was not lost in you. “I want to destroy her, to take every single ounce of life she has left and make it my own. When can we take her away?”

“Silence, malyshka. We have to be patient with our angel. She’ll come to us when she’s ready. For now we just have some fun, perhaps train her a bit,” as serene as the words were spoken, the devilish nature that lay beneath was a cause for panic. In all your nightmares you had been feasted with images of an onyx creature with a ghostly mask, but never your classmates. It almost felt…real. “Would you like to start?”

Burning hands crossed your body, pulling down the sheets hiding it along with your pajamas. Within the clarity that you face, a groan came. Eyes fluttered across the dark room as you were groped, hips squeezed when a phantom creature danced against you. A bulge settled between your legs, mocking your existence with a different set of gloved hands that wrapped around your throat. 

When meeting the two figures upon your bed, breaking the illusion of a dream, you screamed – yet no sound came from your taped mouth. 

Your trunks were torn apart, a humiliating wet patch forming upon your underwear that was mocked with insistent laughter. The two ghost-like beasts pulled at it, nearly ripping it off as their pleased noises filled the frightening air. 

“Fill her up, sweetheart.” Wanda’s familiar voice instructed, her face, you noticed, covered with the same sinister mask you had once dreamed of. “Show her who she belongs to. After all we’ve done, don’t you think it’s time to have a little reward? Be a good girl and destroy our pet, daddy.”

“Yes, mommy.”

Natasha followed the steps she had rehearsed many times when using Wanda as a guiding proxy. She helped her robes up, plucking the zipper of her pants that lay beneath and swooping them down. A rather large, girthy dildo sprung from the confines of its makeshift prison. It was jerked off by a rather flushed Natasha whose face contorted into a desperate one. 

As an audience member Wanda sat back and enjoyed the way her perfectly trained animal rubbed your cunt, all slick and drenching itself more by the second. She ignored your muffled pleas and squirms, using sturdy cuffs to restrain you against the headboard of the bed. You looked much better all tied up anyway. 

Wanda found herself enthralled by the fear in your eyes, her own downcast, dark, and dripping with delight. Tenderness touched your wet cheek that was overtaken by tears. Although you couldn’t see her face, the sympathy displayed through the Ghostface mask caused your heart to slow down, to normalize as she overcame you.

“Look at you. You’re nothing but a filthy whore who is begging to be fucked. That’s what I told Wanda the first time we talked about you. She laughed, but it’s true. This desperate puffy pussy is proof of that,” Natasha growled as she swiped a thumb across your slit, coating it with your juices before swirling it against your cunt. Involuntarily your body shuddered; the redhead would never let you live that down. “How many times did you fantasize about this, huh? For mommy and daddy to claim this slutty body once and for all? You’re so pathetic. I’m barely touching you and your little cunt is already this wet. How cute.”

“Oh I want a go at her once you’re done, malyshka,” Wanda hummed, one of her hands landing atop Natasha’s to feel your oozing apex. “For now I think I’ll stick to marking her. Our names deserve to be on our property, don’t you think?”

“Ours.”

Fire trickled across your skin as the tip of the dildo was rubbed against your throbbing cunt. Natasha was desperate to fill you up, so rather than keep her needs at bay basking on foreplay, she simply grunted, slapping her cock against your clit before lining it up against your aching hole. 

No matter how hard you tried to moan, it was all for nothing. 

A knife was produced from Wanda’s belt swiftly as the way they slipped into your room at night. She sat back watching in awe as her partner pumped her entire cock into your depths, grabbing you harshly until the whole length filled your pussy. Tilting her head, a tongue stuck out to lick her lips. It was far too late to dare remove the tape without alerting the neighbors and potentially being caught – not to mention Natasha’s demeanor would turn sour and her hands would quickly wrap themselves around your neck until your breathing ceased – but oh she knew you’d be so loud for them. 

The cool blade of the knife felt wonderful against you. It was hesitant at first, exploring the expanse of your body as you, lying in wait, taking in a deep breath. Nostrils were fueled by pure hypnotic rage. All but your mind gave into Wanda. She was intoxicating, a true image of beauty even covered from head to toe with onyx garments. 

Numerous cuts were left upon your body by a blade that resembled those which were twisted upon Thor’s chest, the ones that were later compared to the wounds Dr. Danvers carried on her mutilated body only days after she had brutally murdered, her body thrown across an alley with nothing, not even her dignity, left the cover the humiliation. 

“That’s it, you little whore. Take daddy’s cock just like that. Oh you’re nothing but a good fleshlight, huh?” Natasha spewed out, slapping a gloved hand across your face before smirking beneath her mask – an action you practically heard in her tone. “You like it when daddy stuffs your tight pussy with her cock? Huh? A cumrag just for us. I can’t wait until you finally give in. we’re going to ruin this slutty pussy for everyone.”

“Maybe we can fill her up with your pups one day, daddy,” Wanda piped up as she maniacally cut your body. You were adorned with bloody carvings of varying sizes, one of those being a heart with the words ‘Mommy & Daddy’s Pet’ alongside ‘Wanda & Nat were here <3’ right beneath the breasts which she groped. “Do you want to have your daddy’s babies, sweetheart?” The lack of hardness within her voice drove you mad. All you could do was nod, a mind completely blank with the way Natasha fucked you. “Yeah? There’s a good girl. So good for her mommy and daddy. Oh we’ll take such good care of you. Now no one can take you away from us. It’s just us against the world.”

It was the first time you happily felt anything in months.

Bloody breasts were squeezed, Wanda quivering with excitement as she encouraged Natasha to keep going. The innocent stench of your scarlet fluid took the brunette aback. She was drunk in it, desperately wishing to tug at her mask to get a taste. Instead she settled for playing with it, although the gloves preventing the feel of your blood disappointed her. One day she’d drain every last drop within you to manically explore your body. 

With a lazy thumb running against your clit, Natasha’s cock stuffing your cunt until you were a sobbing mess, and Wanda’s cheers as she maimed you, you easily give yourself in for the women to take, arching your back and letting out a choked moan once you came undone. And yet that never stopped them. If anything, your admirers had only begun. 

Both spent hours merely using your body as though it was another limp mess for them to dispose of, a fleshlight ready to please them. They switched positions eventually, Natasha angling herself perfectly so as to shove her strap on down your throat once taking off the tape to keep you quiet, your juices coating her cock that you tasted, while Wanda gave your gaping cunt the same treatment with her fingers once removing her gloves. Regardless of how long it had passed and how spent you were, you didn’t dare force them to leave. 

Their visceral need to own every ounce, every breath, every fiber of your soul drove them to claim you. Watching you from afar, taking pictures, settling for others or each other to hide the itch for you was torturous enough. It was about time they got your attention once and for all that didn’t come from Natasha annoying you constantly to get a reaction, or Wanda sweetly interacting with her soon-to-be pet as a means to hold even an ounce of you. 

Once you were barely conscious, heavy eyelids threatening to close as you gargled over Natasha’s dick, it all came to an end. 

“Such a good girl,” Wanda mumbled, a hand caressing your face, thumb brushing against a cheek. Although the mask remained intact, you heard her fiery features temper down. “Y/N, you’re a perfect pet just like I thought you’d be.”

“Hmm just look at that. You’re already tainted,” Natasha pointed out as she ran a hand against your nude, fileted body. The bed was a mess, blood drying out among the sheets, your being stuck frozen without a sound coming past your lips. All you did was grunt, throat hoarse and exhaustion overtaking you. With a proud smile, both women were pleased with how far they broke you. “Should we give her the surprise, mommy?”

“The poor thing deserves it. Look at how much she’s been through. Oh don’t worry, sweetness, mommy will nurse you back to perfect health. Then in a few days we can put even more pretty scars on your body,” Wanda giddily announced. Cupping your face, she leaned in dangerously close until her mask brushed against your fallen face. “We have a little friend here who’s been dying to play with you. Be a good girl and say hi.”

From the shadows a third figure arose. It carried the same mask as the others, its waltz slow to the tempo of the swirling air felt through the crack of your window. It simply remained standing at the foot of your bed, a hand waving you a greeting, excitement fueling deep beneath the face covering. 

Upon the removal of the mask, your tired eyes widened, Natasha and Wanda having to hold you down from moving with devilish mocking looks upon their faces. 

“Hi Y/N.” The voice was once you dearly longed to hear again. “Did you miss me?”

[disabirbity]

I've been on abilify and it singlehandedly was the medication that made me lose faith in trying more meds. I'd tried many before with many side effects and not much use, but that one? Fuck no. If that thing can fuck me up that bad, I'm not risking it anymore.

Things it did:

Caused what I call "sleep paralysis dreams". Not full sleep paralysis as in "I've opened my eyes and am hallucinating, and I cannot move". A recurring dream in which we could be anywhere, unable to move, and crushed with this all encompassing fear that we couldn't even fix while lucid (which we often were). The dream was basically a repeating line. I can't move what the fuck > This is that dream again > I know it's a dream why is it so scared > I need to wake up so bad > Finally wake up in actual physical pain. We had it almost every night, and the psychologist insisted that it wasn't the medication because it's not a listed side effect. But we stop the med and now we just... Don't dream at all--which is better! We actually don't dread sleeping anymore!

Caused heart palpitations! Multiple times a day, bad enough we got put on medication for them. They're gone since stopping abilify. We told the psych the meds were giving us symptoms and he said that it's definitely not the abilify. Uh huh.

Made me stop being depressed (yay!) but also unable to feel happy (not yay!). Literally couldn't feel anything on that med and we didn't even notice it, is the scary part.

Made me sleep for upwards of 14 hours a day. Chronic exhaustion, feeling so fucking tired and falling asleep everywhere. Horrible paired with those dreams that made us want to stay awake for a week.

Made me so hungry. That paired with undiagnosed hypothyroidism? Horrible combination--unless of course the abilify caused that too.

Didn't even make me stop hallucinating! Or stop the paranoia! It didn't do what it was even meant to in the first place!

So yeah... We hate the shit. Sorry to dump on your post but the solidarity in the notes was great and we wanted to share our piece. No shame if it helps you, it just definitely destroyed our life for a while. We still have heart palpitations on occasion, and we can't take naps because that makes it much more likely we get another of those dreams due to us drifting in and out of sleep a lot when we try to nap.

Is there... Something special about abilify that makes it suck to so many people? There's no other medication we've seen so consistently hated. We've been on other antipsychotics and they've been nowhere near as bad, and we don't see hate for others as much as this one either. What exactly makes it so horrible so often? Genuinely wondering why, if there's even a reason besides "psych system sucks and wants you sedated so you're not 'crazy' lol".

anti drug awareness campaign but it's "just say no to abilify" and directed at psychiatric patients

[thefallennightmare]

The Ties That Bind Us: One

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit.*

•Parings• Noah Sebastian x Soulmate!Reader.

•Word Count• 2,268

•Warnings• fluff, language, talks of death/sickness, angst, depression, dark thoughts, soft!Noah, smut that will include unprotected p in v, oral with both male and female receiving, hand jobs, and fingering. Pretty tame smut in this.

•Summary• Growing up, Noah’s grandparents told him the story of why everyone wore a red tie around their wrists and while theirs glowed while his didn’t.

“Yours will glow when you meet your soulmate, Noah.”

When someone moves in next door and catches Noah’s eyes immediately, he sees the red tie around her wrist glowing only to see his remains red. Convinced she’s not his soulmate, Noah tries hard to stay away from her yet small moments between them start to blossom. So much so, he can’t ignore the tie that binds them together

•Authors Note• As I previously stated, even though this is a "reader insert", there will be moments I describe the reader because it pertains to the story. I'm not quite sure how many chapters this will be, I'm thinking around ten but it could change. I'm also sorry this chapter seems very short, but I figured it doesn't need to be super long with an introductory chapter.

•Tags• @artificialbreezy @blueskylinesx @dominuslunae @lobolocaamo @lilcrazy011 @badomensls @shayeanna-ashlie @supersquirrel1996 @missduffsblog @nicelittlenightmares @curse-bearing-hips @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @chey-h @idontwantthemoney @heyyoplayer @amelia-acero @xmads-omensx @poisongirl616 @theanarchymuse95 @trvshdxddy @thisbicc @losingmyselfinthoughts @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @klutzy-kay24 @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @collidewiththesavannah @tosoundlessdarkistare @rumoured-whispers @dontwantthemoney

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NOAH

Growing up, my grandma would always tell me the same thing whenever I asked her about the weird red tie around my wrist. 

“An invisible red thread connects those destined to be together, regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but will never break.”

When I asked her why hers and my grandpa’s glowed the same color, her answer was simple. 

“We’re both soulmates. Destined to be with each other.”

I always thought the idea of soulmates was a bunch of bullshit people told to make up reasons why we all were born with these ties. I spent many hours trying to cut or rip it off but it wouldn’t budge. My grandma’s words echoing in my head once again. 

“The only way to remove a bind is with death.”  

The soft breeze filtered through my hair as I adjusted the beanie over my head, opening the door wider so my guest could leave. Yet while I stood on the front porch waiting for her to stop talking with Michael, I messed with the red bind around my wrist like I typically did. I’d been expecting to see it glow for the last few years once I reached the age of twenty one yet here I was at twenty four with the still same red bind around my wrist. 

“So, can I call you?” 

Snapping my eyes away from my wrist to the woman in front of me, her bind also red, I gave her a curt nod. “Sure, I guess.” 

I didn’t miss the way her smile faltered with my words and when she crossed her arms over her chest, I suddenly regretted not trying to be a bit more upbeat. It’s not like she was some stranger, she’d come over a few times before but it was never serious. I didn’t even remember her name most of the time which might have been wrong on my end but like I said, it wasn’t ever serious. Just someone to call when the nights were lonely. 

Wow, I sounded like a real asshole. 

“Maybe we can get coffee tomorrow?” I suggested while stuffing my hands deep into the pocket of my sweats. 

Whatever her name was smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “I would really love that, Noah.” 

Fuck. She said my name which means now I have to say her name. It's the respectful thing to do. 

I rubbed the back of my neck, long strands of hair tangled between my fingers. “Uh, yeah. Same here, uh-.” 

When I trailed off, unable to remember her fucking name, her lip snarled and threw her shoulder over her shoulder, bounding down the front steps. 

“You know what, don’t call me. I’m busy for the foreseeable future!” She called back, making sure to slam the door to her car as she sat inside. 

Shrugging, I didn’t bother to watch her peel out of the driveway and turned on my heels to head back inside when a commotion to my left made me pause. The house next door had been vacant for a few months now so when I saw a large moving truck parked in the driveway. With furrowed brows, I took a few steps closer to the edge of the front porch, the side closest to this house, and watched as someone walked up the ramp into the back of the truck. 

“New neighbors.” Jesse appeared next to me almost out of thin air, taking a rather large bite of his apple. 

“Since when?” I asked, giving him my attention now. 

He tapped my shoulder with the hand that didn’t hold the apple. “Since this morning. Someone was a bit preoccupied to notice.” 

Rolling my eyes, I flipped him the bird and gazed back towards the moving van, expecting to see a group of guys like ourselves emerge from the back of the truck. So when I saw a female figure walk out carrying a large box, my breath caught in my throat. The way her hair cascaded over her shoulders and how a soft melody seemed to echo in the wind over towards me; her singing some unknown tune. 

My eyes tracked every movement of her when she walked through the front door of the house. She was gone for less than a few minutes but the entire time, my heart beat wildly in my chest. It was something Jesse noticed but didn’t bother to tease because with a wave, he disappeared back into the house leaving me alone again on the porch.

The sunset had broken over the horizon, painting the grass in a glow of oranges and slight pinks. It all paled in comparison to the brightness that radiated from the woman next door as she stepped back out, pausing for a moment to roll up the sleeves of her sweater. 

“Shit,” I muttered when I saw the band on her left wrist vivid with a glow. 

Holding my breath, I yanked up the sleeve of my shirt hoping to see my own band glowing but felt my stomach drop when it was still that stupid red color. It was foolish to think that this gorgeous woman who moved in next door would randomly be my soulmate. Things didn’t work out that easy for me. I’d been dealt a shit hand in life so I should have figured that this wouldn't be any different. 

My soulmate isn't out there. I should learn to accept it. 

“Excuse me?” 

I whipped my head up from my wrist over towards the house next door, giving a very awkward wave to her. 

“H-hi,” my voice shook, showing my nerves. 

She gave me a warm smile nonetheless. “I’m sorry if this is weird but do you know when garbage day is? I’ve got stacks on stacks of boxes that are taking over my garage.” 

Her giggle danced in the air over towards me, wrapping itself around my heart, and I had to tell myself not to get attached by her damn laugh. If her bind was glowing while mine wasn't, that only meant one thing. 

“Uh, Thursdays,” I said after clearing my throat. “Recycling is every other week.” 

“Thank you,” she beamed with a tired smile. “We just moved in and the relator failed to mention that.” 

Stuffing my shaking hands in the pockets of my sweats, I did my best to not let her realize how the way she was looking at me affected me. 

“Well, if you need help or more tips on the neighborhood, I’m your guy,” I said with a lopsided smile. 

Even from the distance between us, I could still see her brow peak while she crossed her arms. “That’s very nice of you, thank you. But I don’t even know your name.” 

“It’s Noah.” 

Very briefly, the bind around her wrist flickered which didn’t seem to phase her because she gave me a curt nod. “Well, Noah, it's nice to meet you. I’m Y/N, your new neighbor.” 

I leaned against the fence that surrounded my porch. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Y/N.” 

Both of us stood frozen for a few beats, staring at one another, and as I felt an urge to ask her something, someone exiting the house made my body go rigid. 

“Love?” He called out towards Y/N, resting a hand on the frame of the door. “Do you need any help?” 

All it took was once glance at the man's wrist to see the matching glow with Y/N’s, indicating what I already knew. 

She had found her soulmate. 

You met her less than two minutes ago, idiot. Stop being so heartbroken. 

“What are you doing, Eric?” She nearly rushed over to him. “I told you I would bring in the rest of the boxes. You should be taking it easy.” 

Feeling suddenly out of place, I pushed myself off of the porch and dragged my feet back inside, doing my best to ignore the way I had once again got my hopes up for this soulmate bullshit. 

READER

“Are you alright?” I asked Eric, slowly helping him back into the house and over to the couch. 

Even though we moved in this morning, we had a moving company bring all of our heavy furniture a few days ago and set it up. Anything to help take the load off of Eric and I since it was me that did most of the packing and unpacking. 

He playfully pushed me away and sat on the couch himself. “I’m fine, Y/N. I just wanted to make sure you were still doing fine unloading the truck. It needs to be back by 8 tonight.” 

I nodded while throwing the blanket over his lap and quickly adjusting the black beanie on his head that came askew. “I have three more boxes to bring in. Will you be fine alone while I take the truck back? I can call someone to come stay with you.”

This caused Eric to raise a brow. “Who? We don’t know anyone here.” 

Right. Nearly forgot that. 

“But I’ll be fine. I already told you I can take care of myself for a bit. It’s mostly when you’re gone for the entire day that it gets rough.” 

Guilt filled my veins for a number of reasons so instead of unpacking the rest of the truck, I sat on the couch next to him, wrapping my arms around his midsection to feel his familiar warmth spread to me. I traced the various tattoos on his arms with my gaze, burning them into my memory so I could never forget the way they looked. 

The way he looked. 

“Your mustache is getting long,” I giggled while glancing up at him. 

With everything going on in our lives the last few weeks, Eric had basically forgot the upkeep to his mustache. Not that I ever complained though, I loved how that was the only facial hair he kept. 

“I know how much you love it,” he winked and pressed a weak kiss to my forehead. 

We laid there for a moment on the couch, enjoying each other's presence in our new yet quiet home. Things would be different here, they had to be. We gave up a lot to move to this city because of the opportunities that awaited us. 

“I met more of the neighbors,” I spoke after some silence. 

“Yeah?” Eric asked, running his tattooed fingers up and down my arm. 

“Noah. He told me trash days are on Thursdays. Recycling every other week.” 

He hummed. “Is that the one who always seems to be eating some sort of fruit?” 

I giggled while playfully smacking his chest. “No, that’s Jesse. He’s the one that recommended this great taco truck a few blocks down. I was thinking maybe I grab some on the way back from dropping off the truck. Our car is at the UHAUL place so I’d drive it home.” 

“Home,” Eric repeated the word. “I never thought we’d call California home. I thought we’d be stuck in Ohio forever.” 

Tucking my legs underneath me on the couch, I buried my face deeper into Eric’s sweater desperate to have his scent tattooed into my skin. 

“We had to move though, Eric. The cancer units here are far better than Ohio,” I reminded him, doing my best to not cry. 

I’d spent the last couple of months crying because of not only Eric’s cancer coming back but the news of this time, the chemo might not stop it from spreading. We refused to give up hope so one of Eric’s doctors recommended a program out here in California that was testing some new age chemo, one that possibly could help Eric's type of cancer. 

“Which reminds me,” Eric sighed. “My chemotherapy appointment has been moved up to 8 a.m tomorrow. Is that alright?” 

Blinking away the tears, I nodded with a long sigh. “With my new job, I can work from home and clock in wheenver just as long as I work a full eight hours.” 

His tender touch lifted my chin, forcing me to look into his brown eyes; ones that had lost their light over time. 

“I hope that you remember days like this, both of us sitting here together when you're living somewhere new. These things were never clearer in my head especially when peace was in our home and needs were met. Before my cancer.” 

“Eric,” I choked out. “Please don’t talk like you’re already gone. You’re still here, in my arms. We need to focus on that.” 

Reluctantly, he nodded, knowing that he wouldn’t win this fight. It was one we had often, him trying to tell me not to dwell on his death for long if it came. He wanted me to be happy. But the glowing binds on our wrists for each other gave me hope that Eric would overcome this, like he had before. 

Forgetting about the boxes that needed to be unpacked, I let my eyes flutter shut with the sounds of Eric’s soft snores pulling me down to a slumber that my body had been craving. I couldn’t help but wonder of all the new opportunities we’d find here and possibly new friends as I thought of my neighbors, ones that seemed to be somewhat friendly. Especially the one with the longer hair out of the bunch. 

Noah. 

Exhaustion had taken both Eric and I, us falling asleep in each other's arms on the couch. Neither of us noticed our red binds flickering like a home losing its power in a raging thunderstorm.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

i realized they had the same birthday (dec 21st) so i was like "yoooo i should draw them together"

silly bonus:

[blitzwhore]

Stolas just standing there and letting blitz hug him in the end is all good, right? He is just sad because of octavia and accepting that blitz is there with him right?? It's not that he regrets chosing him, right??? (I just need affirmation)

You know what? I've found myself needing reassurance about this too. So let's take a moment to look at the facts together, shall we?

(This reply turned out way longer than I expected it to 😅 sorry!)

Fact #1 - Stolas is still coming to terms with the consequences of his actions. He spends the whole episode finding out just how much his life has changed. Learning how to navigate groceries, and laundry, and meals, and having a job, and worrying about money.

Mid-episode, he has a breakdown where he truly questions if everything he gave up was worth it just for a fantasy. At this point in the episode, he still hasn't realised how much he means to Blitz. As far as he's concerned, he did all of this for someone who doesn't reciprocate his feelings. But by the end of the episode, though, his feelings have settled enough to understand and express what he has known to be true all along: that saving Blitz was the right thing to do.

What Stolas regrets isn't saving Blitz's life, or even loving Blitz in the first place.

What he regrets are the choices he made that led them to this. He feels guilty for selfishly (or, rather, naively) playing out his fantasies. He's the one who established the deal, who let Blitz illegally use the book for many months, who wasn't always sensible about how he expressed his love for Blitz publicly and despite being married, and who allowed himself to ignore the reality of his situation so he could live in his own, personal romcom—all of which ultimately led to the events of Mastermind and the loss of Via.

And all the guilt and regret he's grappling with (however justified it might be) is exacerbated by fact #2, which is:

Fact #2 - Stolas is off his medication. He's been off it for a month now. Symptoms of depression (especially untreated depression) include mood swings, irritability, self-hatred and low self-esteem, passive/active suicidal ideation, pessimism and hopelessness about the future, catastrophising, black-and-white thinking, and anhedonia (inability to feel pleasure and to find joy in things—and people—who used to bring you it). All symptoms Stolas exhibits throughout this episode.

So, even if he shows a lack of emotion toward Blitz at times, or irritation to seemingly minor things like low doors or "secretating" or Karen's behaviour, even if he acts regretful and angry and desolate... a lot of these emotions and behaviours are a result of his depression, and not of actually hating the life he chose.

Fact #3 - Stolas loves Blitz. He always has, and always will. I could point at a thousand different moments in the show when Stolas' love for Blitz has transpired, but I'm going to leave it at his line from Mastermind: "I would rather be dead than live life without you by my side."

Even after everything they've gone through, even now that he's taken Blitz off his pedestal and can acknowledge that Blitz can be a fucking idiot... Stolas simply does not want to live a life without Blitz. It has always been Blitz. It will always be Blitz.

Stolas loves Blitz.

Fact #4 - Stolas kissed Blitz. Before he truly hits rock bottom as a result of Octavia cutting him out, Stolas is so ecstatic that Blitz cares, that Blitz was willing to go to such lengths to save his life, that he can't hold back the need to kiss Blitz mid-air. Suddenly, none of his earlier frustration matters. Nothing matters expect for how elated he is that Blitz loves him back. So he smiles and he pulls Blitz into a kiss because he can't bear not to kiss Blitz for a moment longer.

Look at this man. Look at how happy he is. Because it's always been Blitz, and maybe it was a fantasy for a long time, but it doesn't have to be anymore. Maybe this can be real now. He's so happy he (and I) could cry.

Fact #5 - Stolas didn't deny loving Blitz. When Via said "You don't love me, you love him," the script very purposefully did not have Stolas go "no, no, Via, that's not true—" or say anything else that might make Blitz doubt, even for a moment, that Stolas loves him. Because that much is true. He does love Blitz. He just also loves Via. Which brings me to:

Fact #6 - Blitz knows Stolas loves him. At no point throughout the episode does Blitz doubt, even for a second, that Stolas loves him. And we know this because Blitz's walls remain down at all times. If Blitz doubted he was loved, if he had even the slightest of reservations, those walls would come crawling back up whether he wanted them to or not. It's what he's been trained and conditioned to do—it's how he's kept his heart safe ever since the accident.

But now, he knows his heart is safe with Stolas. He believes it enough to not depend on his walls to feel at ease. He believes it enough to let himself take care of Stolas and be soft with Stolas without the slightest trace of hesitation.

Look at Blitz's face. This is the face of a man who knows that even if Stolas isn't okay right now, things will get better. And when they do, they'll both still be in love with each other. This is the face of a man who can't wait for something beautiful to flourish between them, but who is in no rush to get there. He knows the road ahead is hard and painful, but he has faith in Stolas. In both of them.

Fact #6 - Stolas was happy to share a private, romantic dance with Blitz. Despite everything going through his mind, he found comfort and happiness in dancing with Blitz; in getting to have this little moment with him.

He found relief in the fact that Blitz stayed with him this time, even after Stolas told him, once again, that he didn't have to stay.

His reaction to Blitz initiating a dance between them is genuine surprise, immediately followed by an enamoured little smile at the mere notion that he gets to have this, now.

And, as they dance, he keeps smiling and leaning into Blitz, going as far as to manage a deep, heartfelt laugh at Blitz's words. This, for an unmedicated, depressed person going through one of the worst days of his life, is huge in itself. It shows that, even in the worst of times, he finds undeniable comfort and happiness in Blitz.

And, after their dance, Stolas looks at Blitz with a sobriety and soft sort of realisation that shows he's finally coming to terms with the fact that this is real. After everything he's lost, after all the fantasies he hoped for for so long and believed he'd never have, he finally gets to have this.

Despite the pain he's going through, Stolas looks at Blitz and sees the man he loves.

Notice how Blitz's eyes trail down to Stolas' mouth. And Stolas realises. And doesn't move away. Waiting, expectantly, for Blitz's next move, fully expecting it to be a kiss.

But then Blitz hugs him instead, and Stolas doesn't hug back.

And it's not because he doesn't want to be hugged by Blitz. It's not because his feelings for Blitz have changed, or dimmed, or disappeared. It's not because he regrets loving Blitz, or saving him. It's not because he doesn't want to have a close, healthy, loving romantic relationship with Blitz.

It's because of facts #1 (he's grappling with so much guilt and coming to terms with the consequences of his actions) and #2 (he's experiencing symptoms of unmedicated depression). And, above all, it's because of fact #7, which is...

Fact #7 - Stolas doesn't know how to be loved. Stolas has never had support. He has never had a shoulder to cry on, or someone to hold him when he needed it. When he's feeling vulnerable and broken, he defaults to hugging himself as a way to self-soothe, because that's the only comfort he's ever known.

And because he's never known comfort from others—because it was never allowed or safe for him to need or ask for comfort from others—all Stolas knows to do with his vulnerability is hide it. So much so that, the two times we see him begin to break down in front of Blitz, he either portals Blitz away or masks his tears and pain immediately. Even as he drunkenly rambles about wanting to be held, he still makes sure not to appear like he actually needs a hug.

So when he finds himself being held by Blitz in a warm, comforting hug, Stolas doesn't know how to respond. Because he's never had this. He's never had an opportunity to learn how to exist in someone's comforting embrace, how to interact with this kind of physical contact. He still has to learn how to feel safe between arms that aren't his own.

Simply put, Stolas still doesn't know how to hold Blitz back.

That doesn't mean Stolas doesn't want or need physical comfort. He needs it desperately—everyone does. But wanting something and knowing how to actually have it are two very different things, and Blitz knows that better than anyone, because he's wanted Stolas for a very long time, but didn't, until very recently, know how to feel safe accepting Stolas' love.

And that's why Blitz is completely understanding of the fact that all Stolas can do, all Stolas has the ability to do, is stand there and let himself be held, and let his emotions go through him. In, and out, with every breath, with every second. And get slowly acquainted with what being comforted by the person he loves feels like.

Thirty-something years of trauma can't be undone in a single hug, or a single conversation, and it's going to take time for Stolas to learn how to be present while in Blitz's arms, and how to return that emotional closeness.

But Blitz has faith in him. Blitz is willing to be patient and soft with him while he gets better. Blitz is ready to meet Stolas where he's at, because he knows, beyond a trace of doubt, that they love one another, and they're going to be okay. Even if Stolas doesn't know it yet—even if we, the audience don't know it yet—Blitz knows.

And that's just going to have to be enough for now.

And because this post got completely away from me, I shall conclude by quoting their song, because it summarises their story better than I ever could:

Truer love is hard to find. ❤️

[nikalaeva]

Feyre's Imaginary freedom and Wrong way Evolution

It will be a long speech, get ready 😅

I remember how Feyrе dreaming that her sisters would get married and she would stay with father and paint. It's pathetic dream, actually, but considering Feyre spent most of her life in poverty, it's more or less valid, 'cause she just couldn't imagine anything more. And if you forget that SJM made Feyre a hunter 'cause it's "cool", then I understand why Feyre chose hunting. She had options other than marriage: learn her father's work, get a job in some workshop (sewing, weaving, pottery), or, at worst, become a thief. But Feyre chose hunting, probably, 'cause it gave her a sense of control over her life. More than other options could give.

This brings us to the topic - Feyre's need for freedom. For her, freedom equals power, and this is logical - no one decides what is best for her life and future, only she is. When I read ACOTAR, I didn't see this. SJM just wrote that Feyre hunts to feed her family. But if you keep in mind that everything Feyre does is motivated by a desperate need to control her life, then her actions doesn't seem so idiotic. You would understand that for Feyre enduring the company of her family seems to be worse than freezing to death in forest. You would feel that being imprisoned in UTM and isolated by Tamlin hit Feyre harder than trials or anything else. You would believe that this is a girl who would rather die free than live in chains.

This is a post about Feyre, so I won't write much about Rhysand. But if Feyre herself had said that sitting in a cage for her (I emphasize - for her, not for reader) was worse than dancing naked for Rhysand, It would be a little easier for me believe in ACOMAF. "A little" better than nothing.

But the need for freedom alone is not enough. Eventually, there has to be a limit where Feyre will think: "I guess I can endure a little bit of captivity 'cause I don't wanna die such stupidly." So, in my opinion, good option would be to give Feyre an adrenaline addiction. For example, if you're a fan of Doctor Who, you've probably asked yourself why the Doctor's companions, despite the fatal dangers of traveling, still return to him. From my own experience I can say this: I worked in an ambulance and afterwards it was hard for me get used to another job. I missed unpredictability and thrills. Maybe people who love extreme sports will also understand these feelings. So, if we add Feyre's need for freedom to her adrenaline addiction, it becomes easier to understand why she constantly gets into trouble. Even if she understands that she can get hurt or die, it doesn't stop her 'cause of these weird, kinky sensations. Moreover, having become a fairy with magical abilities, Feyre could afford to take even more risks. By the way, adrenaline intensifies all the senses, while fairy wine depresses. Feyre could seek danger just to forget how wine made her helpless.

Or SJM could have written that all fairies have a strong need for cruelty, cheating or lying (she made them capable of lying - use it! 😡). That would explain why Illyrians constantly train, why in the CoN most (but not all, that's bullshit) fairies are assholes, why civilized fairies actively use sex and drink - these are substitutes so as not to harm others. Hell, it would explain Tamlin's outbursts of rage - he was fighting his nature but not drinking or fucking like crazy. And EVEN Rhysand's behavior - Amaranta turned him into a junkie, getting him high on violence and cruelty. So Rhysand knew he was tormenting Feyre, but the 50-year addiction was too strong. And not the crap that he (or rather the author) told me in ACOMAF.

Sorry, I'm got off topic. So now Feyre's story with the changes you read above is a tragedy. She's trapped in Velaris with IC, with Rhysand. In ACOSF, she's literally trapped in a magical bubble. It's sad and disgusting. But even that could be fixed if Feyre had healed in the ACOMAF and ACOWAR and decided that she wanted a quiet life, not dangers and adventures. The sisters' transformation into fairies and war with Hybern could have changed her like that.

If SJM had written that Rhysand actually gave her freedom, unlike Tamlin, and helped her understand that freedom ≠ throwing herself into danger, then I would have believed that he loved and cared for Feyre. He could helped her love the feeling of safety and peace. Feyre could understand how to get along with her sisters through Rhysand's relationships with Cassian and Azriel. And she could helped him overcome the addiction for violence that Amarantha had forced upon him. In that case, sex literally would be a cure, not just "spice."

But none of that was in the books. Other characters change at the snap of SJM's fingers too, but I'm talking about Feyre 'cause we spend three books in her head. She doing what the plot demands with such poor explanations that reader's brain explodes, trying understand her.

I don't hate Feyre. I hate that SJM has turned her character and story into hopeless trash. And the fans, whose brains have obviously melted from this shit, convince me that everything is okay.

[your-mom-friend]

I used to really hate Octavia’s character before because of how much she whined and complained about stola’s not being there. Like I understood it from a character point of view. She’s 17 and her dad is out cheating and fighting with her mom while they both yell and hate each other and it’s miserable but like, as a viewer I was like girl get a grip it’s so obvious he loves you so so much.

Except in the Sinsmas episode when she realises he’s been needing anti-depressants this whole entire time and he was SO miserable he needed meds to be happy, or that he was so miserable that he stayed in this life he hated because of her, the way her outburst becomes so much more human for me then because it’s no longer about “did dad love me” because of course he did, he does and always has.

Now it’s “have I really made him this miserable?” And when the answer was no it became “did you stay because of me? Did you hurt yourself and make yourself miserable just for ME?” And what a fucking awful and horrifying thought. She loves her dad and the idea that this whole time she’s been the reason he was hurting so bad, that he’s putting himself through all that for her and it was so awful he took the first out he could get is so crushing.

I think her pushing him away now has more to do with her hating everything right now; her dad, her mom, her uncle, Blitz, but most of all herself, and the only one she can take it out on, the only one it’s safe to take out on, is her dad and she’s just trying to work through her feelings. Octavia honey I’m so sorry I hated you but I’m repenting and they could’ve never make me hate you again

[princessofgotham777]

Dating Jason Todd (Part One)

fanfic type: angst, fluff, comfort (ongoing)

If you liked the Titans show but wish they handled Jason’s story line differently you might like this fic!

Hey so this is in fact my first time writing fanfiction (idk what my life has come to). Sorry if it’s cringy but also I would eat this up cause I LOVE some good angsty comfort fanfiction. I won’t write smut. I don’t think I’m gonna do requests but if you have any ideas feel free to let me know. Also of course I don’t own any DC characters this is purely fanfiction. Although I’ve had tumblr for a bit I’m not really used to posting stuff so sorry if I don’t format everything well. Thank you and I hope you enjoy. (I hope you like run-on sentences💀) (if you don’t like it don’t be rude just move on dude😃🧍‍♀️) also pls excuse my grammar.

So story line, this doesn’t really take place in any specific universe but I’m gonna be pulling concepts from Titans, The Batman, Under the Red Hood, and whatever lore I remember from the CW shows cause I grew up watching those, then just my imagination of course. The beginning takes place when Jason is still Robin but he’s no longer apart of the titans. Reader is referred to as she/her btw.

Warnings: talking about death, suicide, depression, torture (it’s not graphic I hate gore it’s just sad)

Part One: Back To The Tower

“Babe? Babe!” You opened your eyes at the sound of Jason’s voice. His green eyes normally looked at you with gentleness but currently they were alarmed. Scared and scary are two things Jason normally does a good job at keeping separate, but when someone threatens his whole world the two merge to create someone dangerous to everyone, including himself.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” You asked.

“We’ve got to go, Dick called… he thinks joker is after me for some reason…I’ll explain more on our way to the tower.” Jason quickly grabbed the go bags you two had made in case something like this were to happen. He used to think having go bags was you two being paranoid but you always knew dating a vigilante would have its ups and downs.

You knew he was serious when he walked straight past his bike and headed to your car instead “Jason, slow down,” you said as he swerved around cars. He knew you hated speeding and he so he never dared do it, also because he liked not dying in a car crash.

“I’m sorry, so you know how joker has been leaving notes around Gotham?” He asks as he drives a bit slower.

“Yeah why?” You answer quickly.

“Dick called me two hours ago and said they think they’re threatens to Robin, threats to me.”

“Shit, what does joker even want with you?”

“I have no idea maybe I’m a pawn in some game he’s got going with Bruce or Dick or the titans or maybe he’s just decided I’m the next victim in his reign of fucking torment,” Jason’s voice shook slightly. You could tell he was trying to keep it together while driving; trying to keep it together infront of you. You two had been through so much together: he’d been the one you turned to when you left home, you two had been apart of titans together, he’d rescued you from poison ivy once, you talked him off the roof of the tower. You two knew each other better than you knew yourselves. Even after everything he still had a hard time voicing his emotions and honestly you did too.

“Why’d you change the fucking password asshole,” Jason said to Dick through the security camera at titans tower.

“More importantly why’d he change it and not tell us?” You said. Jason’s arm was around you, his leather jacket was a familiar feeling against your skin.

The tower brought back many memories for both you and Jason. You remembered painting your nails with Rachel while Gar and Jason tried not to burn down the kitchen. Late nights when you’d find Kori or Donna and ask for their advice when you first noticed yourself falling for Jason. They thought you were crazy of course but it all worked out, so far anyway. You remembered the first time you’d been to the tower when Dick took you in. Dick introduced you to the titans but it was Jason, who you only knew as Robin at the time, who saved your life and called Dick. Another memory you unfortunately recalled was the time after you guys got Jason back from Deathstroke. You hadn’t known pain till you saw the way he winced at the slightest touch or loud noise. Then there was his fall…your mind refocused when you saw Dick.

“Hey lovebirds,” he said with a grin.

“So what do these messages say exactly,” you said.

“Always so serious,” Dick says. You simply glare at him and he stops messing around. “Right so over the past few days there have been notes around Gotham in seemingly random places, each one is just some nonsense about circuses and birds so naturally it’s about Robin. They talk about the flying boy and encounters him and I have had he then goes on to talk about me becoming nightwing. The rest is disturbing stuff about him “wanting to pick off the feathers of the new little bird to reveal the horror inside”,”.

“Right…so seemingly random places?” Jason says.

“Yeah so, the first was found spraypainted on the stage of a highschool in Gotham, the next was spray painted on a random wall in an alley and the third was on the door of this bar…” Dick said.

“Shit,” Jason said.

“The highschool and the alley,” you said softly to Jason.

“And the bar… it’s the one my uncle took me to,”

“Someone wanna explain the significance to me,” Dick said.

“They’re places from my past,” Jason said. “The highschool I lived in, the alley I boosted the Batmobile in and the bar my uncle took me to.” You all simply stared at eachother waiting for someone to break the silence when Rachel, Gar and Kori came rushing in.

“Oh my God what are you doing here?” Rachel asked pulling you in for a hug.

“Wish I could say just to see you,” you say.

“Hey man what’s the special occasion?” Gar asks Jason.

“Unfortunately the occasion is another psycho trying to kill me,” Jason replied.

“Wait is that true? Dick is this about the joker?” Rachel asks. Dick looks at Jason who nods.

“Yes, we think joker knows Jason is the new Robin and is threatening him,” Dick says.

“No offense but isn’t this more Batman’s territory?” Kori says.

“Normally yes but he’s off doing Justice League bullshit,” Dick says.

Everyone gets comfortable and Dick explains what we know.

“So we know the notes reference Dick, Bruce and Jason but I think there’s a fourth person here,” Kori says.

“Is joker just referencing himself?” Gar says.

“I don’t think so cause…” Jason stops himself.

“Cause what?” You ask him. He doesn’t answer.

“Jason what is it what’d you find” Dick asks. Jason simply gets up and starts to walk away. Naturally you get up and begin walking after him.

Dick grabs your arm, you glare at him and he lets go, “hey let me go see what’s up just keep picking apart the notes with the others.” It was the Dick you knew, loved, and were annoyed by. The camp counselor anything is possible with teamwork Dick Grayson, the version of him which would soon have to step aside.

“Jason!” Dick says when he finds Jason in his old room which looks exactly the same. Jason doesn’t reply he simply grabs a bag and starts packing. “Going somewhere?” Dick says. Jason still doesn’t reply. “Hey, what the fuck!”

“You aren’t stupid Dick you read the fucking note,” Jason says.

“Maybe I am stupid cause I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jokers not threatening me, he’s challenging me…telling me to meet him. And he’s threatening y/n saying what he’ll do if I don’t go find him.” Jason says.

“Shit,” Dick says. “Okay but all you’re going to accomplish by going by yourself is pissing me off, getting your shit rocked by joker, pissing Bruce off, and scaring your girlfriend to death all of which I’m gonna have to fix so could you not be impulsive for once!”

“You don’t think she’s already scared!” Jason says.

“Yeah I do but I think you’ll make it worse if you leave her here,”

“She’d be safer here far away from Gotham and far away from me,” Jason says.

“Hey dipshits,” Kori says as she turns the corner. “Yeah I can read too,” she also seemed to have figured out the note “So why don’t you I don’t know, include her in the conversation about what to do about the threats that are against her?”

The three of them return to see you, Gar and Rachel sitting in silence, it was clear you guys had also figured out the full message. Jason doesn’t get a chance to even fully enter the room before you get up and pull him back into his old room.

“What were you thinking not telling me?” You say.

“You didn’t sign up for this shit,” Jason says.

“I did, and I don’t just mean with you I joined titans before I even knew your name.”

Jason hesitates before saying, “you’re right, I’m sorry”

“Apology accepted so what the hell are we gonna do,” you say slipping out of your serious tone.

“First question, do you wanna go out there and work with everyone or just keep this between us,” Jason says.

“What do you wanna do?” You asked. It was clear you wanted to include the titans in the plan. You knew Jason has a complicated past with everyone in the other room but you also knew despite his own feelings he’d do whatever would keep you the safest. He hugs you softly, one last act of humanity before completely focusing on being Robin. You and Jason were fairly new to the world of having a secret identity. You both tried to keep the two personas completely separate but at the end of the day the person under the mask always has the final say when hard decisions need to be made.

The plan everyone agreed on was simple. You’d stay at the tower, with Gar and Rachel far away from Gotham and the joker. Tomorrow morning Jason, Dick and Kori would drive to Gotham and work with Barbra to catch joker. If only that were actually how it went.

You’d fallen asleep in your old room with Jason by your side, around three am you woke up and he was no where to be found. “Jason?” You said as you looked around the room. The light was already on so you could see perfectly that he was gone. Jason must’ve turned the light on when he left, he knows you hate being in the dark alone after what you went through with Poison Ivy. “Dick!” You yelled as you ran down the hall to Dick’s room. To your surprise Dick was wide awake busy on his computer.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Dick said concerned.

“Jason’s gone.” You said.

“Fucking idiot,” Dick mumbled under his breath. He began typing quickly on his computer. “He got rid of his tracker didn’t he?”

“He cut it out ages ago,” you said frantically. Jason had vanished but both you and Dick knew exactly where he was going; he was going to face Joker alone in Gotham.

Please like if you enjoyed the fic I need to know people like it otherwise I’ll stop posting new parts (I have a whole storyline idea and backstory so like if you want to see more)🩷

Here’s my Masterlist so you can read the other parts.

Masterlist

[widowsofchaos]

Buckynat

𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

—- even the unloveable can be loved.

pairing // bucky barnes x brown!fem!reader x natasha romanoff

warnings // dom/sub smut (Shibari), cheating, mention of pcos, stretch marks, and hyperpigmentation. mention of an unnamed omc.

a/n // read it here on ao3. I hope whoever requested this, sees this. sorry for taking so long. wrote this in a low point in my life. hope you enjoy. <3

It’s methodical.

A routine well practiced, it’s recited in your footsteps. Auto-piloting through the lavish apartment corridors, a secluded area in the compound that always leaves you in a daze, coordinating footfalls that felt as a maze—- with keys digging in your grip.

The rigid craved curves dig into the flesh of your thumb, wedging the copper tip underneath your fingernail, edging on subtle pain.

The path to the secure living spaces of the earth’s mightiest heroes is a familiar one. The billion-dollar compound is secured and shrouded in silence.

The ideal timing, when the majority of the avengers are in their own worlds. Some are on a mission, and some are just —- not here.

The walk of shame isn’t something you want. Despite being a lab technician for Tony, you don’t try to rub elbows. You’re use to being alone, casted in the shadows—- and just because you warm the bed of two avengers doesn’t mean, you yearn to fuck your way to the top.

Another turn in the hallway, and right at the end of the corridor, is that familiar sterling gray door. Just beyond it is your solitude.

Copper ridges twist and unlock, the crisp air conditioning fans your face as the door opens, relaxing your nerves.

Slipping out of your flats, by a whisk of your ankle, the shoes are perched at the door. Smoothly you glide your wedding ring off—- hide it away in your pocket, all its value is nothing more than a stranger now.

Steadied steps inside the spacious apartment. Pristine, with cool tones. Perched on the polished flooring is a rich violet pillow.

Well versed motions, mutely, you remove each article of clothing. From the flaps of your beige blazer, to your white button blouse, each button snapping open with anxious aggression, to your unzipping your black skirt—— the anticipation of the zipper splitting open against the flesh of your thigh.

Folding neatly, fabric on top of another, resting on the pristine couch.

It’s all arousing.

To be owned. To be eaten carnally. To be degraded, reduced to nothing. Some days, the aftercare is merely an afterthought, you think you don’t care for it, because it’s a belief of not deserving of it.

Some days, you depress yourself, thinking that you’re just a sex toy to a bored couple. But, when they touch you, caress you—- your heart settles, and you feel safe.

Grateful to them, for once —- in all the years of your life, you never once accepted your sexuality, nor explored regions of intimacy. Embarrassed of extra flesh you carry, and scars, finally, to have anyone adore these flaws.

To be taken care of is still a foreign concept, a notion that even your boyfriend doesn’t even entertain so often.

A few kisses here, and a stroke against the meat of your thigh there—- no, he doesn’t clean up the rawness, the humanity of facing the aftermath of sex.

Nor does he want to. He doesn’t want to touch the darkness that casts upon your inner thighs.

Rarely any relationship birthed from obligation promises a happily ever after.

Now you sit, kneeling on the lush readied cushion, just for you. Awaiting for the touch, the manhandling. The silence prevails in the apartment space. Enveloping you with bated breath.

The walls have eyes.

They’re watching you. You can feel the forest green and icy blue hues stalking you akin to predators in the wild, awaiting their vulnerable prey.

Goosebumps form on your flesh, palms resting on your knees. Skilled and lethal, years of expertise—- they tread in silence. All the more erotic, to be caught off guard, knowing that you can never win. Never hide from them.

They can sniff your soul a mile away.

They need control. After decades of being subjected forcefully to commit heinous acts —- even still seen as criminals, despite saving the world numerous times.

Used as puppets, with no autonomy. Both learned through each other —- even in the most violent environments —- that safety isn’t impossible, if it's through tender intimacy, or communication.

Mastered the art of speaking with just their eyes.

A moment passes, and you wait, as a loyal dog. It turns them on. To see you obedient, even when you’re trembling in your skin, to be touched.

Staring at the wall ahead, fingers fidget against your bare thigh, your bum seated against the soles of your feet.

You didn’t even hear him.

“Privet, moy pitomets.” Hello, my pet.

The vowels slip from his lips with ease, only a few words have been taught to you routinely, but the language remains foreign.

“Let me see your nails.” It’s not a request. Bucky inspects each nail closely. He sighs disappointedly to see swollen red cuticles.

“You’ve been biting.”

“More like ripping.”

Bucky gently smacks your fingers, with his right hand. “What did I tell you?” He chastises, his breath warm and wispy against the shell of your ear.

“Not to do that.”

Your head bows submissively, a twinge of genuine shame birthes itself, all your thoughts consume your mind, yes, yes, punish me, I deserve it.

“And yet, you deliberately disobey us.” A silky, Russian accent that edges on a moan with every vowel. Not daring to turn your face, gracious legs step into your eyesight.

Mindless picking relieves your mind from the small stresses. You don’t tell them the personal issues, just enough to indicate that there is a broken marriage, that was already fractured before the consummation.

“I want the pain.”

You are nothing, you are void of all that is pure. You deserve it—- “Pain, moya lyubov'?” My love. Natasha asks, kneeling to your eye level, but your eyes are downcasted.

Her index finger glides under your throat up the slope to your chin, sending a shiver down the terrain of your spine. Her finger curves, lifting your gaze to hers.

“Is that all you want?” Natasha speaks with silk on her tongue. Smooth metal fingers tread and engulf your throat, a caressing fist.

Bucky’s soft pink lips shower your check in tantalizing kisses—- feathery. Leaving you wanting more, his flesh hand weaves in your hair, stroking your scalp.

Pulling you to him, controlling you, handling you his way. Natasha hums, with that smug smirk she always dons.

“No.” You wheeze a whine, eyes dazed.

“Bucky hasn’t even touched you yet,” Natasha teases, her eyes catch your hip lifting just a bit, craving to be touched, “—- and already you’re cock drunk.”

You whine a whimper.

-

Swinging mid-air, bondaged with a blindfold shielding your eyes.

Washed in cold water, and oiled. Soft and flexible—- intricately hemp tied around the ceiling’s hook, and clings to your anchoring body.

Mischievously, you’re tied in a position that splits your legs apart, arms bent back as a bird’s wing, and digging into your torso in pretzel knots. Heavy breasts hang freely as the hemp is tied akin to a bralet, roving between the hills of each tit.

It’s been hours. Three to be exact. A few breaks in-between.

A gust of breath escapes you, panting as your body settles from another orgasm. Vibrating from your skin, if you could, you would melt within these knots.

Bucky’s thumbs caressing and digging into your hips assuring you.

But, some moments, you cringe at the sensation of his fingers stroking your spilt thighs. Fleshy, and darkened—- you swallow that tightness in your throat with soft moans.

Eye-lids wrinkling behind the shrouded fabric, but you swallow the brewing prickles in your throat. Masking the cringe deep inside.

Natasha is completely naked, unbuckling the leather strap from her hips; smugly staring as Bucky has been ravishing your soppy cunt. Your skin is coated in a dew of sweat, as faint purplish handprints bloom on the swell of your hips.

Both of them have been taking turns on you. Natasha fucking you deep with her strap, and Bucky with his cock. Having you eat Natasha out, her finger gripping your hair as Bucky savored you, thighs split. Just a moment ago, Bucky stuffed your mouth full as Nat’s long smooth pink dildo had you crying with pleasure.

“Hmm,” Nat hums to herself teasingly. Her slender ivory fingers caress your chin, lifting your head. She can see your chest heaving, you’ve been wrung loose. “Maybe we should stop.”

Bucky’s teeth nip at the rope, his lips gliding against your shoulder blade. “Maybe.” He taunts. “You probably had enough.” He whispers in the shell of your ear.

You mumble, but the words just can’t fall out.

“What was that?” Natasha’s brows lift, “We couldn’t hear you.” Her fingertips tapping the underside of your chin.

“Please fuck me.” Wringing your hands against the tight rope, a low whine stretches. Bucky tsks. “Please.”

Both chuckle. Insatiable, Nat mumbles with a lazy grin.

Bucky’s fingers glide against your split mound, fondling the empty connection between you both. With gentle ease, he readies himself inside you, following with a smooth thrust.

Bucky pauses for a second, and sighs. He looks down at his cock with realization, a lazy smirk. You turn your head over the slope of your shoulder, despite being blinded, “What’s wrong?” you pant.

“I guess we forgot a rubber.” Bucky laughs. Natasha breathes a chuckle, murmuring that she’ll get another one real quick.

Adrenaline rushing to your ears. You utter a small no, their smiles fade a little, but you don’t see it. Your skin feels the shift in the air, the quick silence.

Like vomit, your words spew.

“I can’t have children…. it’s okay.” You gesture over your shoulder, tugging on the knots. Not enjoying the silence, you swallow.

“Cum in me, please!” You wail, brows pinching. Tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

Curls stuck to your face by the sheen of your sweat, nearly tangled, and tears kissing your lashes. “You don’t have to be so cautious.” You laugh through a squint, blur of gray cotton. Laughing to guise the bitter twinge, making your words softer.

An odd glimmer passes through Natasha’s face. But it’s gone as fast as it came. Soothingly caressing your cheek, a flutter of her gaze catches Bucky, who nods so tenderly. Speaking through the silence, the need for the rush now dissipates to a kinder pace.

Natasha retrieves another condom, as Bucky’s thumbs caress you in circular motions. One part of your mind enjoys it and the other is sinking into itself, reminding you that he is touching your fat.

Bucky leans down, kissing the arch of your spine, “Remember your safe word—-” another kiss, “we’ll stop if we have to.” Two more kisses, and he gently adjusts by your waist, so his tip is just at your entrance. Curved and hung, stroking through your lips.

Natasha’s hands cup your cheeks, “Remember to breathe.” Your skin yearning with lust, and desperation. Just as your lungs expand, Bucky slowly sheethes himself inside you, earning a breathy sigh from both of you, his eyes fluttering.

Moaning low, as an odd sense of comfort. That he is meant to be here, inside you. A reminder that you are wanted. The taste of Nat lingers on your tongue, and it feels like home.

Starving for that high, reaching for it one more time. Your body can feel every thrust, but your mind is drifting. Stifling the thoughts, you try to focus on the pleasure.

Your body is a spongy blob, in need to be used. You are nothing, and the void must be filled. With a cock, or a strap. Replace the sorrow with the crack of a belt, or a striking hand.

Bucky fucks deep inside you, your breathing becoming heavy. Nat holds your cheeks, kissing you, swallowing your sounds. Her warm tongue slipped inside, dancing against yours.

It’s all so suffocating. To be between their presence. Bucky hit a curved angle, making you cry out.

Yes—- the familiar knot is tightening. The curve of Bucky’s cock stroking and punching that spot, that delicious spot—- his balls slapping your swollen clit.

Soft moans and guttural grunts dance together in the air. Natasha’s slender fingers gripping your throat, no doubt, she’s touching herself. To see her husband fuck animalisticly their third.

String of slick connects between Bucky’s sac and your swollen clit, spilt and weeping on his cock.

The pit in your belly is tightening, so close. Swirling thoughts plague your mind, distracting you from your approaching high. Trying to pay attention to Bucky’s grunts, and gripping hands, but the thoughts of ugliness and shame rip at your skin.

Closer… closer … closer…

A gasp and …. nothing.

“I didn’t … cum.” You spoke in a hush. Eyes moon-wide, lashes blink against the cotton, disbelief eroding within your veins. Staring through the barely mesh blind-fold. Your breathing becomes short.

“That’s okay.” Nat says, caressing your scalp. She’s a slight blur in your hazy vision, coming forth to you with gentle ease.

But all you feel is the rush of blood flooding your ears.

“I — didn’t cum.” You repeat, breasts heaving, the cage of your ribs erratic with breath.

“And that's—- okay.” Bucky repeats. His lips kisses your cheek, caressing the skin with his thumb. Bucky moves around you, being careful with your body. Blood rushes to your ears, dissociating into the void, as their footsteps fade from your mind.

Your head hangs low, eyes watery, and humiliated. Expecting at any second for them to cut you down, and make your grand escape. Ensure that you must resign, never show your face again, pretend you never existed—-

Soft hands gently start cutting at the rope, as another pair grabs at your body, making sure you don’t fall. With kind precision, Bucky pulls you to his warm body. Natasha flicks at the rope, splintering fibers into split ends. A white towel wrapped around his torso.

He caresses your body into a hug, and you’re speechless. Nearly sinking into your skin, like being swallowed by a black hole. Cringing at the realization of being naked. Trying to muster the words, to tell them that you don’t need help, and you’ll be leaving, but Bucky just carries you as a feather.

“Where—-” your words die in a groggy grunt, “—- where are you taking me?” Your eyes are bleary, brows knitting in frustration. Bucky chuckles, “You need a bath.” His lips curl into a smile.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to—” your words are snuffed by a shush, Natasha’s fingers stroke the hairs clinging to the sweat of your brow.

“We’re going to take care of you.” Spoken with such firmness, as if saying you’re not winning this. With such declarations in their tones, it’s enough to shut you up.

And they did. They took such care of you.

Bathing you with gentle hands. You can feel they were deep in thought, a shift now in the air. Silently cursing at yourself for being so compulsive with your words, sitting in the bath with empty eyes.

Pampered you with a soapy scrub, and comforting silence. Naked among each other, but not sexual. Bathing one another, as you slip inside the bubbles. The water is warm, and it nearly lulls you to sleep.

All you can feel is hands holding you gently, and the blur of the dim bathroom lights.

-

The phone is stuck in the grip of your palm, blankly staring at the screen. Desperately your thumb hovers over the keyboard, itching to just rip the band aid off.

You peek over the hill of your shoulder, making sure Nat and Bucky are sleeping. Fiddling with the hem of Bucky’s shirt, you always loved wearing his clothes— spacious and big to conceal your fluffy body; plus, it smells like him.

You couldn’t sleep. Restlessly your mind raced. The pit of your belly pinches, as you set your eyes back on the screen.

His contact picture mocking you.

Let him know. It’s over. No more enduring the humiliation of being nippicked, for what you can’t control. Why continue being with someone who doesn’t love you for yourself? Who always makes you feel less than dog shit?

A soft hand glides up from your shoulder blade to the cusp of your neck, earning a gasp from you.

Your eyes flit to your side, to see Natasha’s sharp eyes staring into your screen. It’s hard to read her face, it’s … void.

“I can’t have children either.” Nat whispers. Her eyes shift to you, a small smile lifts. “Doesn’t make us any less of a woman.” Her eyes blink with sympathy, unflinching.

No quivering in the truth. That’s one of the best aspects of Bucky and Natasha. Neither one lies. It’s always been pure honesty, never looking away from shame.

You wish to master that. To not let shame eat at your core, till it’s festering. To the point of crippling anxiety, falling apart at the idea of being perceived.

And yet, these two, have cracked you open, physically and emotionally—- has seen every bit of you with no judgment clouding their eyes. Found beauty and value within you—- but is it love? What if they found another?

You wouldn’t find this connection again—- “Don’t get lost on me.” Nat’s voice pulls you back, her knuckles grazing against your forearm.

“We can help you pack your things.”

Your brows pinch with confusion. Nat breathes a laugh. “While he’s gone, we can help you move in.” The light of the phone dimmed, but Natasha can still see through you. Her observant eyes unblinking.

“You want me… to move in?” Your voice floats on a whisper, feeling that anxious drop in your belly.

“We’ve been wanting that for so long.” Natasha says. Her eyes flew over to Bucky’s sleeping body, “I had to stop him from just taking you.” She smiles, laughing a bit.

“He was ready to tear the door down.” The image of Bucky barging in your home, and just taking you sent a jolt to your core—- so rugged. Natasha’s eyes gaze back to you. Her shiny nails softly graze your forearm.

“We love you.”

Those three words nearly make you cry. Yet, you have no love for yourself. It felt compulsive to ask—- “Why?” the question just spews. Natasha’s brows pinch.

“How can we not?” She asks, as if it’s the most ludicrous question. Your eyes filter away, staring down in shame. The light of the phone screen goes out, the darkness becomes your veil.

“Because my body is ruined.”

Natasha remains silent, you can only see a glimmer of her through the dark, not even the night slipping through the blackout drapes.

Soft fingertips graze the outline of your shoulder, it was the warm flesh fingers you are so familiar with.

“You’re not ruined.” A soft husk whispers behind you. With how he moves in silence, it should have startled you, but it didn’t. You felt Bucky’s breath fan the skin of your shoulder, caressing you with a shiver in its wake.

You have no doubt he was listening to the entire conversation— nothing could ever be hidden from either. You shake your head, your lips caving into your mouth into a tight lip.

“A lot of people would disagree with you.” You say, it’s second nature to speak with such defeatism, to never accept a compliment. It was always a rare occasion to be told that you were beautiful.

“Many people can fuck off.” Natasha snips. Her finger curls under your chin, making you look at her. A swirl of frustration and sympathy tastes her ivory-skinned features, illuminated by the dim darkness.

“I wish it was that easy.”

“It is.” Bucky hisses low, “You’re making it difficult for yourself.” His words sting, but the truth is all too bare.

He exhales a sigh, so soft you barely hear it. Your eyes staring into the void, straining to see your lap before you.

By now, the light of your cellphone is gone.

Bucky’s flesh knuckles stroke your shoulder blade, you can feel he wants to speak more; but he graces you with the chance to swallow his words.

“What would the team say?” Unshed tears sting your oculus, filtering from your left to right. Your head shakes in disbelief, trying to find words; but the vowels seem to limp from your tongue.

“What— wh…” you stammer, nose flaring to keep the tears at bay. “The three of us…” your lips wrinkle, “I don’t fit…”. Your entire face prunes in despair now.

“How would that look?” You speak hastily and anxiously, your throat feels raw, chest rising and falling rapidly. You can feel their eyes piercing through your entire body, the rush of blood and heat captures your ears.

“It doesn’t matter what people think.” Natasha says, her tone is edged. Her face leans in closer, her breath fanning your face.

“It matters to me.” You sniffle, your fingertips pointedly hitting against your chest. “I have lived my life by everybody’s opinions…their taunts… I… I don’t know how I…” you begin to fumble over your words again.

“None of them would be against us.” Bucky says softly. “Or mock us.” He takes your fingers into his, interlocking. You can feel his warmth encasing you, from his thumb stroking your knuckles.

“We wouldn’t let them get the chance.” Bucky’s voice is low, an edged husk.

“I don’t want to embarrass you.” You spoke in a whisper, grinding your teeth, restraining the itching in your throat. Droplets of tears rain down your cheeks, soaking the jut of your chin, down underneath your neck.

“We’re not embarrassed.” Natasha’s fingers guide your chin. “Far from it.” She kisses your scalp, earning just the softest hint of a smile.

A pregnant pause.

“I would love to live with you…” you speak as soft as a baby’s breath, “to feel loved for once…”. A resignation rests on you, weighing heavier and heavier. A battle of resistance, to grasp violently onto the sadness, and on the other side, is acceptance.

Just give in. Don’t you want love?

It’s not important what I want.

It’s all here… in the form of two souls… doesn’t it feel nice?

It does feel nice.

“What do I say… to him?” The mention of your boyfriend back home stirs an odd tug in your belly. “How do I tell him? A fight can break out—”

“How about you sleep on it.” Bucky interjects, as Natasha’s open fingers stroke your spine. You nod, trying to swallow the harshness in your throat, muttering an okay under your breath.

A fight won’t happen, Bucky thinks, he won’t let it happen. He can sense Natasha feeling the same. A silent agreement that if anyone tries to hurt you —- it would end quickly and six feet deep in dirt. But, your anxiety vibrates too loud at the moment, it’s best to just rest now.

Laying down between them, sinking into the sheets. Natasha and Bucky encase you, as Bucky puts your phone on the nightstand. Out of sight, out of mind.

You let your last message to your now ex-boyfriend be your white lie of sleeping over at your mother’s. Now, your bones melt into the mattress, tucked between two bodies—- you can start anew in the morning, till then, you just want to rest with the two people who make you feel safe.

[winterrain-11]

some more gravity falls hcs :3

(a lot of these are sad)

cw for drug use, mentions of abuse, major character death, and other such depressing things

- mabel starts swearing like a sailor after the summer (ik that stan made an effort not to swear around the kids, but i don’t think ford did, and it made stan’s filter slip more) and gets in trouble for it at home. when stan finds out he tries to hard to pretend to be mad but he’s lowkey proud

- the twins have to fight tooth and nail to teach their grunkles to use a cellphone, especially facetime. they eventually get the hang of it, but the first few months at sea were two hour facetimes of the grunkle’s chins just bickering at each other and assorted “how’s it hanging pumpkin? how’s school?”

- stan and ford watched westerns nonstop as kids (though ford was more into star trek and doctor who) and they played cowboys often. stan was OBSESSED with cowboys and briefly tried to work as a ranch hand while he was homeless in his 20s

- dipper and mabel have a love/hate relationship with cw’s supernatural. mabel thinks the boys are hot and is definitely a destiel shipper. dipper loves the genuine supernatural-ness of the early seasons and now still watches it kind of as a joke but also because mabel got him on the destiel train. the last two episodes ruined their lives.

- the twins have opposite reactions to weed. it makes ford’s paranoia really bad and makes him nauseous, but it makes stan’s adhd brain quiet for once and allows him to relax for once. when dipper and mabel get older, they have very similar reactions. when stan catches mabel smoking, he tries to be responsible about it and tell her that smoking is bad for her and to not end up like him, but eventually they just smoke together on occasion.

- mabel is significantly better at guessing plot twists than dipper (in books, movies etc) and dipper DESPISES this fact (i think it’s the same for the stan twins too tbh)

- stan dies first, ford dies almost exactly a year later.

- stan picks up guitar while he’s homeless, uses it to make a bit of money on street sides. he teaches mabel in her teen years when his hands get to old to play.

- when ford and fiddleford rekindle, stan and fiddleford bond over regaining memory. they both relearn their instruments together (guitar and banjo respectively) and enjoy singing along to old outlaw country and appalachian folk rock (stan picked it up in his travels).

- (cont.) ford suggests music because it’s known to help dementia and alzheimer’s patients with regaining memories, and while that’s true, he really more just enjoys seeing his two favorite people happy again.

- both ford and stan think the other voted for trump (2016), neither of them did. stan thought hilary was hot (and thought trump was a loser) and ford voted third party (sorry he gives me centrist vibes). i imagine they both vote dem in 2020 and 2024 because they see trump as a much worse conman/asshole and a narcissistic sociopath respectively.

- (cont.) the twins have heard the stan’s complain about the other’s political ideologies and know that they vote the same but refuse to tell the other. wendy is also in on this and they all have to tackle soos on several occasions to keep him quiet before election day.

- nate and lee definitely explored each other’s bodies and when they finally came out to the friend group everyone was super confused because they assumed that they had been dating for years

- ford has a very addictive personality. while stanley does too, he can restrain himself (doesn’t smoke or drink around the kids, doesn’t lose himself in gambling), ford picks up smoking on the stan-o-war II and doesn’t stop until he dies. Stan has refused to go to Vegas with him even though ford begs, but stan knows an addict when he sees one. ford never acknowledges his problem.

- stan doesn’t tell ford about his homelessness and abuse at the hands of his father/pimps/drug lords until they’re several months deep on the stan-o-war II and certain things start to trigger his PTSD. Ford listens and opens up about his abuse under Bill and his life of crime in the multiverse. they definitely cry together for a long time.

- (cont.) Stan only tells the kids when they’re in college. mabel self destructs a bit during this period trying desperately to find herself and stan is terrified that she’ll go down his path of dangerous desperation for self-worth and wants her to know that he knows how she feels, they grow even closer because of this.

- stan did drag for a short period of time around the southwest in his homelessness. at first he was forced to do it to be degraded, but once he got his autonomy back, he began to do it on his own accord and really enjoyed it/was really good at it. he tried to convince himself that ‘he wasn’t queer or anything’ and was just doing it for the money, but he never really fully believed that. (where he learned to wear a girdle)

- once again. stan wanted to be a cowboy so bad okay i know this in my heart of hearts. this man LOVES clint eastwood and johnny cash and RAHHHH i know it.

[shuploc]

Ai art?

Are you fucking joking?

Sorry, no, it is not and I find it so disrespectful you would even think to ask that. I have not and will NEVER touch anything AI related ever in my life, I think it's so utterly pointless and destructive and it frankly makes me wanna kill myself.

So no, it is not and never will be, and you can safely hold that to me for the rest of my existence. I really hope this is the last time someone asks me this.

[dendroaspis-viridis]

I'm begging you, BioWare... Learn from the mistakes of Baldur's Gates past...

[sad-leon]

crawling out of the shadows with this as an offering

[hurtcomforted]

imagine that, in the first avenger, before pre-serum steve's training montage, we get a flashback with sarah rogers to explain his perseverance. imagine that when he goes to save bucky and after losing him, we get flashbacks to them as kids.

imagine that, in civil war, instead of (or along with if that's what it takes) more of tony's daddy issues we also get to see little steve with sarah to also understand him better.

imagine we get more of steve's backstory.

[lisaii]

Wenn ein Mensch auf Dich wartet, ist das ein echtes Zeichen von Geduld und Liebe. Jeder kann Dir sagen, dass er Dich liebt, aber nicht jeder kann warten und beweisen, dass es stimmt.

[carlyraejepsans]

i don't think I've ever enjoyed a birthday party with friends as much as today i am genuinely getting a bit teary eyed