#to stop being who you are out of fear that you will be brutally murdered and your eyeballs turned into jewelry

[liliesdiary]

Could I request something for ghostface pls lovely🥺 I don’t really request stuff, especially smutty stuff, so I’m a little nervous lol but I LOVE your stuff💕

Maybe where they’re in an established relationship, and reader knows her bf is ghostface but hasn’t actually seen him kill anyone, and somehow accidentally sees him kill someone, and is surprisingly very turned on by it, and ends with with her being fucked in the ghostface mask

and for kinks I was think if of these; Corruption kink and fear play, very rough, throat fucking, degradation, knife (obvs the knife be used to do the deed) + blood play (but no pressure if you don’t want to do them all, they were just an idea)

☆ 「 Scream For Me, Doll 」

☆ 「 bf!Ghostface x you 」

☆ 「 Dead Doll Do Not Eat 」: corruption and fear kink, blood play, knife play, reader gets fucked with the handle of the blade, very rough, face fucking / throat fucking, creampie, overstimulation, breeding kink, degradation & praise, doll kink/play

thank you for the request angel and thank you so much for your patience! I hope you enjoy <3

You were taking a hot steaming shower, daydreaming about your boyfriend, touching yourself to him once again. He was out, he was always out. You knew the inhumane acts he was committing and you couldn't help but be turned on.

You spend the days at home, fantasizing about your boyfriend and his killing sprees. You watched the news everyday, watching what other atrocious acts he committed, watching the news reporter report another crime your boyfriend commited.

As you fantasized about what other acts he's done, you heard commotion and grunts downstairs. You quickly turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. You stopped to listen once more as you put your head against the door. At first it was silent but then you heard a loud crash. You quickly wrapped yourself up in a white towel and didn't have time to try your hair.

You opened the bathroom door and a trail of water followed you as you heard grunts and groans in your living room. You carefully walked down the stairs, unsure if you should hide or find out what's happening.

You call out, “Who’s there?” yet no one replies. You walked carefully down the stairs, making sure you didn't slip on the water dripping from your hair.

You then saw your boyfriend in his infamous Ghostface mask, drenched in a man's blood. He violently repeatedly stabbed the man before him as the man choked on his own blood. You couldn't help but gasp as you saw your boyfriend's bloodlust for violence.

Blood drips down from the white mask as the man struggles to breathe. Blood dripped from his knuckles and onto the man’s face. Your wide doe eyes stare at your boyfriend as he stares at you back with lust filled eyes beneath the mask. You stayed silent as you watched him finish the guy off, slitting his throat and getting up from the pool of blood.

This was the first time you’ve actually seen him kill someone. You fantasized about this moment forever and now that you were in this situation you stayed silent, trembling as droplets of water dropped from your hair. Ghostface quietly chuckled, “I brought a gift for you, doll.” He says with his infamous deep voice.

He slowly walked up to you, leaving behind a trail of blood. He grabbed his knife as dragged it against the towel that was hiding your figure, wanting to unwrap your body and fuck you bloody.

Your wide eyes only made him desire you more. “Take that towel off before I slit your throat next.” his deep voice commanded.

Your eyes went wider, seeing this side of your boyfriend was so drastic yet enticing. You listened to him in a heartbeat and dropped your towel onto the wet floor.

Ghostface's eyes roam hungrily over your naked body, drinking in every curve and valley. The sight of you standing there, vulnerable and exposed after witnessing the brutal murder, sends a dark thrill through him. He steps closer, the knife still pressed to your throat.

He traces the flat of the blade down between your breasts, over your stomach, lower...teasing at the juncture of your thighs. His other hand reaches out to roughly grab your chin, forcing you to meet his starving gaze.

Without saying a word he commanded you to sit before him with just his eyes. You sat down with obedience before him, looking up with those doll eyes that make him want to ruin you. He pulls his hardened cock out, stroking it with his blood covered hands. He tapped your mouth with his cock, you stared at his white mask and obeyed. You opened your mouth as wide as you could as you took his cock into your mouth.

Ghostface groans in pleasure as your warm, wet mouth envelops his throbbing cock. He grips your hair tightly, holding your head in place as he thrusts deeper, making you gag and choke around his thick shaft.

He pressed the tip of his black boots against your wet cunt and laughed, “you're drenching wet, doll. Such a disgusting little doll for a serial killer, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

He grabs your hair again and shoves his cock back into your mouth, setting a brutal pace. The knife presses harder against your collarbones as he fucks your face mercilessly.

“Naughty dolls like you should be fucked till they break.”

Ghostface's eyes darken with lust as he sees the mix of fear and arousal in your bambi eyes, the blood dripping down your face only heightening his desire. He noticed your eyes staring at the “gift” behind him, out of anger he grips your wet hair tighter, fucking your throat with a even more brutal, punishing strokes. He wanted to break your pretty body.

Ghostface strokes his cock, slick with your saliva and blood. “Scream for me, doll.” He says as he pins you down onto the floor coated in the man's blood.

He pulled out his infamous blood stained blade and slowly entered the handle into your wet cunt. You trembled as he fucked you with the handle, praying that he'll be gentle and that he won't cut you. Yet you couldn't help but love this. Shamelessly you bounced slightly on the handle of the blade.

As you bounce yourself on the knife handle, your arousal overrides any sense of shame. A dark, twisted smile spreads across his face behind the mask as he realizes just how depraved his little doll truly is.

You continued to bounce on his blade, moaning at groping your tits as he was entertained at his doll’s naughty behavior.

Ghostface's eyes burn with a twisted mix of lust and adoration as he watches your small body writhed beneath him, your skin marred with the crimson evidence of his affection. He marked your insides with your blood with each brutal thrust.

"Such a good girl for me," he praises, his voice a dark purr. "Taking my cock so well, even with all these nasty little cuts. You're mine. My perfect fucking doll."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, the coppery taste of blood mingling with the salt of your tears. His hands roam your body possessively, squeezing and groping, leaving behind finger-shaped bruises. A delicate doll breaking with each possessive touch.

He angles his hips, hitting that sweet spot deep inside your pretty body with every stroke. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your pained moans and the creaking of the blood-soaked floorboards.

“It feels too good.” You moan out, squirming beneath him as you struggle to take his cock. Your boyfriend sadistically smiles as he pins you down, forcing you to take it.

Your desperate movements to escape his grasp only turned him on more. He made sure he hit every sensitive spot inside of your, making you yelp in pain.

“Take it like the good doll you are. You don't want to make me mad, right doll?” He asks as he holds the knife to your throat, pressing the sharp cold blade against it even more. The blade breaks skin and blood drips down.

You nod your pretty head that was trembling in fear. You didn't want to upset him, you yearned to be his good doll. The thought of being a killer’s doll made your cunt even more wet and loose. His cock loosened you up and slid right into your wet slippery cunt.

Ghostface's eyes roll back in ecstasy as your arousal allows him to slide in effortlessly. The wet, obscene sounds of his ravening you, mingling with your desperate moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, gonna fill this pussy up," he growls, his hips snapping forward with brutal force. "Paint your insides with my cum."

He leans down, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving behind dark hickeys that will last for days. His hand tightens around your pretty throat, cutting off your air supply just enough to make you see stars.

"Gonna pump you so full of my seed, doll. Leave you dripping and marked, a walking advertisement for my cock."

Ghostface's thrusts become erratic, his balls drawing up tight as his orgasm approaches. With a final, brutal snap of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his cum. He made sure to not spill a single drop and forced it all deep inside of you.

Ghostface's eyes rolled back in his head as he emptied himself inside your abused cunt, his cock pulsing with each powerful spurt of cum. He grinds his hips against yours, ensuring that every last drop of his seed is deposited deep within your womb.

"Take it all, you filthy little cumdump," he growls, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Gonna breed this pussy, fill you up until you're dripping with my cum.”

He continued to thrust into your overfilled cunt, fucking all of his cum back into your holes. You were soaked in blood and sweat, tears falling from your closed eyes. You squirmed under his grasp as you were completely overstimulated, begging him to stop. He gives you another cut on the chest, “Stop squirming, doll. I'm not done with you yet.”

He continued his assault on your overfilled hole, not letting you rest. After today there was no going back to the innocent relationship you two had. He was going to corrupt your body and leave bruises on you everyday. He was going to stain your pretty body with cuts and hickeys for everyone to see. You were his pretty little doll, made to be broken just for him.

[evanhereonearth]

They have both known the terror of disappearing in plain sight.

With every eye on them, with upturned faces watching them in hope, pleading with them for deliverance. With the ferocity of enemies turned upon them, with everyone certain they know exactly who stands at the forefront of the revolution, the movement, the breaking wave of history—they have both been caught by the riptide and dragged under where there souls can no longer breathe.

“You came here to help, Solas. I won’t let them use that against you.”

“And how would you stop them?”

“However I had to.”

The simple first moments of seeing and being seen. A spirit long since wrenched from the Fade and given physical form he didn’t seek, waking in a world where no one sees him as a person. A prisoner turned religious icon looks him in the eye and says she agrees that spirits are people. And he recognises the spirit in her for as rare and marvellous as any he’s seen.

Quiet curiosity. Trust. Patience. Love.

The brutality of trauma. The bonds of desperation. The self-rejection of long-festering shame. Sowing seeds in the hopes that they will not die, that something of the truest self will remain no matter the tales the world tells of either of them. Murderer. Traitor. Heretic. Hero. Harellan.

This is the journey. The paths had to diverge, had to give time to those seeds to sprout and bear fruit.

But love. Oh, love, building back self under the weight of the world. Stretching out roots that allow a spirit to grow.

Acceptance. Grace.

He is still Wisdom. He knows the burden of a wound that turns septic; he remembers the regret of his own naïveté and will not take advantage of hers no matter how healing her heartbeat against his.

And she learns.

She learns as he walks away twice. As she feels him in the Fade, returning, always returning. To her. To her heart, where he hides his truest self.

“Tell me you don’t love me!”

“I cannot do that, vhenan.”

She learns the weight of his regrets and the wisdom of his reasons. She seeks out the din’an shiral not to blindly follow but to walk beside; she gives him the space he needs.

She knows the paths cannot help but converge.

She finds those seeds sprouting in her heart, the truest knowledge of seeing and being seen—that he trusted her with himself because he knew the world would wound him from Wisdom into Pride anew, and he needed the shelter of her heart of Grace. So someone would remember Solas instead of Fen’Harel.

When she finds her understanding, she tends to the vines that grow between their hearts. She does not sever them. She has planted seeds of her own in his; her faithfulness and her compassion, her ferocity in believing he is worthy of being saved.

She knows his deepest fear, and she watches him face it on that fateful day when their paths converge once more, watches him walk towards an endless future of being alone until his death. The finality of forever.

Her power, her Wisdom, her strength to take up her path by his side.

“I will go to seek atonement.”

“But you do not have to go alone.”

So much love in simple words. So much truth beneath their surface.

You are worthy of healing, she says.

You are worthy of forgiveness, she says.

You are worthy of grace, she says.

And we have waited long enough.

[infiniteglitterfall]

aha! I pulled up that one because I'd thought it was the one where I'd spent tons of time debunking a bunch of comments saying that Israel digs up dead Palestinians to harvest their skin and organs. Which is a blood libel that's been repeated and debunked, over and over, for at least 20 years.

Nope! That one was from the comments on a Cincinnati Socialists post. I think it was the one where they were trying to call out some of the sponsors and of Cincinnati Pride for directly profiting off genocide by... selling and/or developing unrelated products in Israel.

And claiming that the reason two Cincinnati Pride organizers had told the North Kentucky Pride organizers they had set up a table at North Kentucky Pride without asking, and were handing out flyers claiming that the war in Gaza was Netanyahu's "Final Solution" for Palestinians, was that they're all in the pockets of those sponsors.

Which resulted in them getting horrific harassment and death threats, and quitting the Cincinnati Pride board before they got voted off.

I can't tell what post of theirs it was on, because the cincysocialists Instagram has been deleted.

Too little, too late.

I am not going to forget how many people in the queer community bought into and spread these ideas. And I suspect it'll be a LONG time before I stop discovering more incidents like these.

You know, "realize you instinctively believe the worst of a given marginalized group, and maybe listen to and believe sources from that group instead" is a very. fucking. low. goddamn. bar.

I'm feeling a very alienated from people around me because of my refusal to participate in antisemitism, and I'm not even Jewish, so I can't IMAGINE how so many of you are feeling out there. I almost feel silly for feeling alienated about it. It's causing some real reflections when it comes to how I view myself politically. It's like here I am thinking, "No, we're against ALL oppression, right guys? .... right, guys?" 🦗🦗🦗 And it sucks knowing that a. the alienation I'm describing pales in comparison to what Jewish people might be feeling and b. that it probably isn't even that surprising to you all. Antisemitism is so perennial, cyclical, it insists on coming back again and again, rooting itself in places where people otherwise wouldn't expect it. It's Samsaric.

I almost feel like I'm being gaslight- "I'm not antisemitic, I'm just saying that Jews are harvesting the blood and organs of children!"

Like, bro, what else would that be? If blood libel isn't antisemitism, what counts as antisemitism?

This post is probably a bit jumbled, but I hope you're all doing well. ❤️

[harunayuuka2060]

*MC's eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the darkness. Once they had, they noticed a small figure in the middle of the room, hugging a doll.*

Their toddler self: *was waiting for their dad to come home, looking frightened by something*

Their toddler self: *then heard a gentle knock on the door*

Their toddler self: Dada?

Their toddler self: *approached the door and opened it*

'Good evening, Your Royal Highness.'

Their toddler self: !!!

'May the night grant you its blessings.'

MC: *watched as a group of strangers killed their younger self*

MC: ...

'Make sure to gouge out their eyes. We cannot let Malleus Draconia find out what we've done here.'

'Why don't we just get rid of the body?'

'We don't have much time.'

MC: ...

MC: *reaches for the shoulder of one of them*

MC: *surprised to see that they could touch them and evidently, everyone now noticed their presence*

'Wh-Who are you?!'

MC: ...

MC: *smiles, their expression solemn as they point to the body of their younger self*

*All of them shuddered in fear.*

MC: I'm grateful to witness such brutality.

MC: Indeed it was a blessing.

Maleanor: *reveals herself again once MC has finished taking revenge on their murderers*

Maleanor: I was concerned that you might have a soft heart. It’s a relief to see that you know when to deliver punishment.

MC: ...

MC: You could have tested me in other ways instead of making me witness my own death.

Maleanor: I would have done that if I had any other option. But believe me, this was necessary.

MC: ...

Maleanor: *smiles* You seem confused, my dear.

MC: Indeed I am.

Maleanor: *chuckles* Come with me.

Maleanor: Does she look familiar to you?

MC: ...

*MC's mother, appearing troubled, stared at the water.*

MC: What is she doing?

Maleanor: She’s glimpsing into your future and, unfortunately, has foreseen your death.

MC: !!!

Maleanor: She must feel helpless, unable to stop it, which is why she chose to safeguard your soul instead.

MC: ...

MC: But what could I have possibly done to deserve that kind of death?

Maleanor: What other reason could there be, dear?

Maleanor: It was your power to manipulate reality.

MC: !!!

Maleanor: Ah, but now it has merely turned into clairvoyance. What a disappointment.

MC: ...

Maleanor: *chuckles* It’s delightful to tease you, my dear. Sadly, this may be the last opportunity I have to do so.

MC: ...

MC: You could have at least made a good first impression.

Maleanor: I understand your disappointment, but this is my first time being a grandmother.

Maleanor: How about a gift to help lift your spirits?

MC: A gift?

Maleanor: *smiles* Yes. You'll find out once you awaken from this dream.

Baul: Sir, we have searched everywhere!

Malleus: You must check again!

A servant: *comes running to him* Sir! We found them!

Baul and Malleus: !!!

*MC was found asleep on the throne once belonging to Princess Maleanor, transformed with horns, wearing dark robes, and holding a staff with an emerald green gem.*

Baul: Your Royal Highness—

Malleus: Don't.

Baul: But...

Malleus: *smiles*

Malleus: Something must have happened, but what matters most is that we found them safe.

Baul: In that case, I will inform Her Majesty to ease her worries.

Malleus: *gently picks them up as to not awaken them*

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Hm, have a restful night, my dear.

MC: *upon waking and realizing they're back in their room at Black Scale Castle*

MC: ...

MC: My head feels a bit heavy... *turns their head to the side and catch a glimpse of their reflection in the glass window*

MC: ...Huh?

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (16/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece •female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, dirty talk, smut, the angst, murder, character death, miscarriage and the trauma associated with it, panic attack, mafia stuff, brutal violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn’t let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father’s mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra’s husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin’s brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She was pregnant.

Although, according to all moral and social norms, she should have been crying in despair, she was happy: touching her belly with her hand, she felt nothing but love for this little being that was slowly growing inside her.

The fruit of their warm, deep, sincere affection.

The knowledge that she was not alone helped her when it was time for her to meet the staff for whom she was to be responsible from now on. Aemond insisted on being with her, fearing for some reason for her and the baby, she, however, knew that this was something she had to do alone.

Their stares when she walked into the VIP room in which she had ordered the meeting told her everything – grown men and women who looked as if they had seen far too much in their lives watched her in disbelief.

She knew they thought with disapproval that she was just a little girl, a whore who had been given this place as a gift by their boss that she wouldn't know what to do with, pestering them with her stupid bullshit.

She sat down in one of the empty armchairs, a few people lit cigarettes and grunted, other than that, complete silence all around her.

"I know what you're thinking and you're right. The fact that I have taken over these premises is a form of security for me. In true, not only for me, but also for you. Aemond will stop the flow of drugs through these and two other places that used to belong to my father. I have no intention of changing managers or leadership, quite the contrary – I want to talk to you about what you need. I want this to be a clean, legitimate business that is profitable. No drastic changes." She said, looking at them expectantly, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.

A few people twisted in their seats, others looked at each other.

Silence.

Obviously they didn't trust her.

"Think whatever you want about me. It doesn't matter. Know, however, that my stepfather no longer threatens you, and Aemond will still protect this place. All I ask for is loyalty. If there is a problem with something, come to me with it, not to my uncle, or he will be furious. Now get back to work, I want to stay with the manager." She said calmly.

All but one man who could easily be her father got up from their seats and walked out, leaving them alone.

"This is not a toy you can just pick up and have." He said finally, firing up the lighter, leaning over the flame with his cigarette.

"I don't see it as a toy. We can all gain something if we accept each other. Would you rather keep wallowing in this shit and selling ecstasy to young kids? Don't you have children of your own?" She asked coolly, and the man snorted under his breath, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk.

"I do. Three. Two sons and a daughter. Each of them works here. The sons as security guards and the daughter behind the bar." He said dryly and she swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on her back.

Fuck.

Had she just insulted him?

"You let your own kids do drugs? Do you want them to be arrested with you if the police come by here, as part of family integration?" She asked, and he sighed heavily, taking a loud drag on his cigarette.

"I didn't say that." He replied, letting the smoke out through his mouth.

"And I don't want that either. Help me protect you." She insisted, and he looked at her finally, as if he had made up his mind.

"You're just like your father."

She exhaled loudly, in an involuntary reflex she'd been holding back for the last few hours touching her lower abdomen as soon as the car door closed behind her.

"And how was it? Everything okay?" Her uncle asked, immediately grasping her hand in his, looking at her expectantly, tense.

"They are difficult people. Difficult, but tired. They don't want problems. They get used to it." She said quietly, exhausted and sleepy.

She looked at him, a worry in his eyes but also a tenderness from which she felt warm in her heart.

"Take me home."

The road to the sea was getting terribly long, perhaps because once in a while she felt an unpleasant twinge in her stomach, indicative of what was about to happen.

"– no – no, stop the car, stop the car –" She muttered, and he immediately pulled over to the side of the road – she only managed to open the door before she vomited on the grass, panting heavily.

"– oh, baby – why don't you lie down in the back seat? – you'll be more comfortable –" She heard his voice, his broad hand stroking her back.

Ever since they'd found out they were going to be parents he'd been so tender, so good, so sweet.

Exactly like he had been back then.

"– okay –" She mumbled and swallowed hard, wiping her mouth with her handkerchief. She unbuckled her seatbelt, climbed out and opened the door in the back, laying down on both passenger seats, closing her eyes.

"– sleep, little one – I'll drive slowly – we're not in any hurry –" He said, looking at her in the rear view mirror, and she nodded.

She flinched when she felt the car finally stop – she heard someone open the door, the fresh air and his familiar hands enveloped her, lifting her up, and she clung to him like a small child. He carried her into the house, to a room that belonged to him, where they had set up their makeshift bedroom for the time of renovation.

She felt him lay her gently on the bed, taking his place beside her a moment later, embracing her from behind.

"– you're tiring your mummy terribly –" He whispered, stroking her belly with lazy, calm motions of his hand. "– you need to let her rest –"

She smiled, allowing herself to fall asleep again, this time in his embrace. Her uncle often addressed their child as if the baby could already understand him – he was making a connection this way, realising that he was really going to become a father.

He was involved in everything about preparing for the arrival of their child into the world – they decided to dedicate the room she slept in that summer holiday to their future offspring and repainted it together, sticking cute glow-in-the-dark stickers on the walls in the shape of various planets and stars.

With some things, they had to wait because they didn't know if the baby was going to be a boy or a girl.

"It cost me a lot of money, but I made it. I have written permission from the Archbishop. Rhaenys, we can marry." He said to her one morning, holding a piece of paper in front of him that was to change their lives.

A dispensation for a church wedding.

"We need witnesses." She muttered, gripping his hand in hers. Her uncle nodded, as if he knew she'd said it.

"I know, Helaena agreed. I didn't want to decide about another person for you." He said, and she smiled, feeling grateful.

He became more open, more affectionate, always thinking of her and her needs too.

She knew who she wanted by her side.

"I know I'm asking a lot and that I'm not entitled to it. I know your father will be furious if you say yes, but… you have always been close to my heart. You didn't judge me. I wish I had you with me on this day." She mouthed in a breaking voice, standing alone in the bathroom with her phone pressed to her ear, wiping her face wet with tears.

She heard Baela swallow hard, shocked by her words.

For a long moment, they were both silent.

"– I – God – I've always felt you were in pain – only now I know why and I'm sorry you've been alone with this for so long – I don't want you to not have your bridesmaid on your wedding day – just tell me when and where –" She muttered and she burst out into a quiet sob, feeling relieved.

"– forgive me – forgive me for being such a disgusting person –" She choked out, whooping, feeling that she had finally described herself truly.

She had fucked her own uncle and was going to have a baby with him.

She was sick.

Baela drew in a loud breath.

"– stop – if he was your own birth brother, it would be much, much worse – on the positive side, he's actually only half your uncle –" She said, and for some reason she burst out laughing.

God.

"– right – it's a good thing I didn't choose Jace –" She mumbled, and Baela snorted.

"– exactly – let's stick to that –" She said.

"– it would be funny if the police burst into the church and arrested us –" She sneered, fiddling with the soft towel hanging on the rack, imagining commandos with guns ordering them to fall to the ground.

"– for what? – for drug dealing or for incest? –" Baela scoffed, and she giggled under her breath.

"– for everything – the list of crimes is long –" She said with a smile, for some reason feeling lighter.

It was the first time she had ever talked to someone about it completely honestly.

She shuddered when she heard a loud knock on the door.

"Rhaenys? Are you all right?" She heard his concerned voice.

Ever since he had found her in the bath then, he had been afraid if she stayed in the bathroom too long.

"Yes. I'm talking to Baela. She agreed." She called out to him.

"That's great." He said with sincere relief, as if he was afraid she would suffer another disappointment and rejection from her family.

They hadn't planned to invite any guests to the event, have a dinner together or anything of the sort – they knew that most of their family felt there was nothing to celebrate, and for them, as it wasn't a state wedding, it only had symbolic significance.

Helaena helped her choose the right dress – she wanted to look special that day, because even though their nuptials were going to be bittersweet, she was, in the eyes of God, going to be his wife.

"– oh – look – this one is lovely –" Helaena hummed, taking from the rack a long, white gown with a cut-out back and lace at the neckline and the ends of the delicate, long sleeves.

"– you're right – it would match the flowers in my hair –" She said, in her perfect image of herself that day wishing she had daisies woven into her curls.

Helaena dropped her off in the car at a shop near their house and they said their goodbyes – she needed nothing so much as a walk and some fresh air, however, she wanted to cook them dinner too, knowing that her fiancé would be back late.

Since he had started telling her about his affairs, what he needed to do and where he needed to go, she felt calmer and his absence no longer frightened her so much.

Besides, he wasn't leaving her alone anymore, she thought, touching her stomach happily, looking curiously at the shelves full of different kinds of pasta, searching for the perfect one for spaghetti.

She shuddered, having the feeling that someone had rubbed against her by accident, but then she felt that person holding something against her back.

"Be quiet and leave the shop slowly." She heard a cold, unfamiliar voice behind her and froze, feeling her heart leap up into her throat, a cold sweat on her back.

She looked to the side, wondering if she should scream, if anyone would help her, not knowing if this man held a gun or a knife against her body.

"Don't try anything or I'll butcher you like a pig." He said, as if he was reading her mind, and she swallowed hard, feeling burning tears of terror under her eyelids, her body involuntarily began to tremble.

She simply moved towards the exit, and the man she was afraid to look at put his arm around her like he was her boyfriend, clamping his hand firmly on her waist to make sure she didn't try to escape.

As soon as they left she sprang up to throw herself into a run, but the man grabbed her waist and clamped his hand over her mouth – she bit him with a loud squeal, but he only hissed, not letting her go, hiding behind the wall of the shop, two other men got out of the car.

One of them, a blond man with a beard and blue eyes had a scars on his left cheek.

"– come on, what the fuck are you waiting for – faster –" Tyland Lannister growled, and the man who was clearly his bodyguard forced her to bow her head and forcibly shoved her into the back seat, closing the door behind her.

She burst out crying, curling up as Tyland sat down next to her and the two men took their seats in front, driving away with a squeal of tyres.

"– shut the fuck up – be a good girl and no harm will come to you – I need to clear up a few things with your uncle –" He said lightly – only when she looked at him did she notice that he held in his hand a gun pointed towards her.

She pressed her body against the car door, looking at him with big eyes and shook her head.

"– please – please let me out, I'm pregnant – I –" She mumbled out and squealed, leaning forward, feeling a sudden, penetrating pain in her lower abdomen, and then another and another.

She began to pant loudly in terror, and wailed as Tyland slapped the back of her head with an open palm.

"– stop pretending – I told you to fucking calm down, I won't do anything to you – I won't –" He muttered and fell silent, looking with her at the drop of blood that ran down her thigh from under her dress.

She covered her mouth with her hands and screamed loudly, falling into sheer hysteria, the man in front cursed, telling her to shut up, and Tyland just stared at her, his mouth wide open.

"– stop –" He muttered. "– fuck, God, stop, stop, stop –"

"– here? – boss, we're in the middle of a country road –"

"– STOP, I SAID –"

The car stopped at the side of the road with a screech of tyres in a way that made her hit her head on the seat in front of her – Tyland opened the door, grabbed her ankle and dragged her out of the car like an animal, leaving her on the grass, then got back inside.

The car drove off.

She just breathed, whooping with tears, looking at the grass around her and the tree trunks, feeling a horrible warm stickiness between her thighs, twitching all over, not having the strength or the will to get up.

After a while some other car stopped beside her, the people inside screamed in terror and got out, a woman who could have been her mother ran up to her and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Good God, I think they raped her."

No, she thought.

They took something much more precious from me.

She heard his loud, frightened breath as she lay in the hospital bed, the policemen standing beside her grunted at the sight of him.

"Are you her family?" Asked one of them.

"Y-yes, I'm her uncle. Good God, what happened?" He mumbled in a breaking voice.

"Your niece was found by a woman on a country road, thrown out of some car. She immediately informed us, suspecting that a rape had taken place, however, the cause of the bleeding was a sudden stress-induced miscarriage. The victim does not speak and does not want to say who did this to her. Could you please…"

The man did not finish as she heard him burst into a loud, mournful sob, felt the touch of his hands on her body, his face pressed into her hair, his broken, heavy breath.

Her eyebrows arched in pain, a single, lonely tear ran down her face.

Daemon had warned her.

The hours, the voices, the smells merged into one for her – she heard her uncle's voice, her mother's voice, she smelled their scent and touch, she heard their weeping and despair, but she herself felt like she was dreaming awake, feeling and experiencing nothing.

She felt herself awake when she heard another familiar voice.

"Did she say something?"

"No. She's silent. There's no contact with her. She's in shock." Her mother muttered, and Daemon embraced her, looking her straight in the eyes.

She felt something – she felt her heart hit harder in her chest, her eyebrows arched in misery, her breath caught in her throat.

"– baby – baby, please, say something to me –" She heard her uncle's whisper and only after a moment did she realise that he had been lying next to her on the bed all this time, that he had been stroking her head, that he had been looking at her, that he had been crying like a little baby.

"– get out for a while – leave us alone –" Daemon said – her uncle opened his mouth, furious, but she spoke up before he could say anything.

"– I want to talk to my dad –"

Everyone around her fell silent – Rhaenyra walked over to her brother and took his hand, explaining to him in a whisper that they would be back soon, that she was no longer in danger, that everything would be all right.

She felt herself quivering all over when Daemon took the chair and sat down beside her bed exactly as he had done then, after she had tried to take her own life.

She looked at him, into his bright, piercing eyes, and thought that this was what he was trying to protect her from.

"I wanted this child, dad. Very, very much." She muttered and closed her eyes, feeling the blissful emptiness she had surrounded herself with begin to crack, the pain that pierced her body, her heart so strong that she sobbed.

"I know." He replied.

"Is the baby…is the baby still inside me?" She choked out with difficulty, whooping with her own tears, feeling like she couldn't catch her breath.

"No. I'm very sorry, but no. It was too early, the baby was not yet formed. Nothing could be done." He said and she clamped her hands on her lower abdomen, thinking she felt like ripping out her uterus and other entrails because they were useless.

She was full and suddenly empty again.

She felt her father's hand on her arm, his fingers strong, his embrace giving her a sense of security.

"I have abandoned you. I chose my own pride. I knew he would want to take revenge on him. If I had given you my protection, it would never have happened. Forgive me." He said, and she closed her eyes, thinking that she wanted to become nothingness and disappear.

Despite Daemon continuing to speak to her, she fell into a state of half-sleep again, unable to think about it – her mind was repressing everything that had happened and waiting, although she didn't know what for.

What was she actually waiting for?

For her baby, she thought.

Little girl or little boy will be born in a few months.

No, she realised.

Not any more.

Tears ran down her face, but no sound came out of her mouth.

She saw him – her uncle stood in the doorway of her hospital room drenched in tears, trembling like a small child, just like she had been when she came into his room then, terrified of the darkness.

Darkness surrounded him, and he was frightened.

She didn't want him to be afraid.

He cried out loudly when she reached out her hand to him – she realised it was already dark around him when his body snuggled against hers, when he embraced her and kissed her cheek, when his face snuggled into her skin.

They lay, just breathing, holding hands – there was something comforting about that – in his silence. The fact that he knew there were no words of comfort, of justification, of absolution for them.

What did exist, however, were their bodies, warm and familiar, clinging to each other to find shelter.

She fell asleep, wrapped in his scent.

"I know you think this is my fault. That you will never forgive me." She heard his voice as if from a distance – she blinked, surprised to see that it was already daylight all around her, that her uncle was sitting beside her in a chair, looking at his hands.

Days flew by between her fingers.

How long had it been since that incident?

Since when had she been empty?

She pressed her lips together, feeling nothing but rage.

"I want Tyland Lannister." She hissed in a cold, shaking voice, and he looked at her in shock.

They stared at each other for a moment – his lower lip twitched when he suddenly realised what had happened, something in his gaze that had always frightened her, but now pleased her.

Aemond

Emptiness.

It seemed to him that he had simply gone through all the phases of grief – from despair, through denial, to a state of complete indifference.

His child, whom he had so desperately wanted, was no longer there.

He thought it would help to give the baby a funeral, even though they had nothing to bury – that's why they put the glowing stickers they had stuck on the walls of the room that was to belong to their child in a small box and buried it under a tree in the garden of their house.

She wanted the thing that would remind her of their loss to be close by, so that she could look at it every morning from her window.

It was an ordeal they lived through together, and although they suffered, they found relief in each other's arms.

She let him take her for the first time two weeks after it happened.

Lying in front of him in his embrace, she took his hand in hers and slowly guided it down under the material of her panties – she surprised him with this, because he was convinced that the vision of him touching her like this would be something disgusting to her – she, however, was wet.

He couldn't hide how much he missed her, and after a moment they were both naked from the waist down, fucking each other like animals with loud smacks of their hips, wanting nothing more than to feel fulfilled and relieved – the release he felt when he finally came inside her was like a revelation, her body hot and sweaty in his embrace, her little cunt pulsing on his erection, sucking his seed.

I'll give you another baby, he thought tenderly, kissing her long neck, not saying it out loud though, not wanting her to think he had already reconciled himself to their loss.

I will give you another baby, and then another and another.

We will be a big, happy family.

If he could say that anything good had come out of this awfully sad situation, it was that their families had begun to talk to each other again – Otto and Daemon couldn't forgive the murder of their grandchild, and Alicent, Rhaenyra, Jace and Baela had watched over his niece in his absence, looking after her.

Even Aegon asked him for a meeting, which was strange and downright comical. His brother put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him in a way from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

"We're going to catch that son of a bitch."

The only person who was afraid to meet them was Helaena, blaming herself for what had happened despite the fact that neither he nor his Rhaenys resented her.

"She said she wanted to go shopping. Your house and the beach was across the street. I-I had the security guards go and take her dress to your house. She wanted to take a walk, she insisted. I…"

"Stop. You are not the one who did this to her. No one is blaming you." He said calmly, staring dully ahead, sitting in his car, feeling that his heart, his skin, his body, his breath were cold.

I want Tyland Lannister.

He licked his lower lip when he spotted his silhouette in the distance, coming out of one of the clubs surrounded by a few of his thugs, surely for protection.

Jason helped his brother move to another city, hoping they would never find him.

But he was wrong.

"I have to go." He said and hung up, starting the engine, dialing another number.

He never thought that he'd talk to him of his own free will.

And yet.

"He just left."

He followed him for a few streets, driving a few cars behind him, feeling strangely calm and patient – he had the impression that there were no more tears he could cry or screams he could shout.

His persona had come full circle, becoming again exactly who he had been before she had called him that evening for the first time in eight years.

He smiled, seeing that they had realised that someone was following them, trying to change direction suddenly – as he had predicted, they had fallen straight into their trap, and hundreds of loud gunshots rang out around the corner.

He pulled over to the side of the road and stepped out of the car, watching as Daemon's men slaughtered Tyland's men one by one, surprised by the manhunt from both sides, unprepared for such a sudden, merciless attack.

"– please –" Tyland mumbled, crawling on the ground at Daemon's feet – his sister's husband held a baseball bat in his hand, all dirty from his blood.

He thought with amusement that Lannister's face looked like a squashed tomato.

Together with Daemon, he dragged him, moaning and crying, to the boot of his car, locking him in there, and together they set off without exchanging a word.

By the time they reached the house by the sea there was only an hour left until dawn – Tyland had passed out in the boot from a lack of oxygen, and a strong kick to the liver revived him, making him draw in air loudly and cough, spitting up blood.

"– no – no, no, no, no, please, no –" He whined as they began dragging him along the ground towards the door, leaving a trail of his blood on the ground behind them.

When they walked into the house they threw him to his knees in front of her – his Rhaenys looked at his hunched, pathetic figure sitting in front of him on the couch in a white dress he was seeing for the first time, a knife in her hand.

Was this supposed to be her wedding gown?

I have taken away your purity and innocence, he thought with pain, looking at her with adoration.

Kora was no longer there.

Only Persephone was left.

His Queen of the Hades.

He longed to lie down at her feet and simply abide.

"– I lost someting because of you –" She said and raised herself up, touching her lower abdomen. "– my baby didn't even manage to take their first breath –"

He closed his eyes, feeling the squeeze in his throat, the pain he felt in his heart unbearable.

"– I didn't know – I didn't know, I'm sorry, I didn't know –" Tyland mumbled, because of how swollen his face was his words were indistinct and difficult to understand.

Standing over him, in her white dress, with a knife in her hand and with her beautiful hair loose, she looked like a ghost.

Like Death.

"– you threw me out of the car like an animal – you left me to die and drove away –" She whispered, tears one after another rolling down her beautiful, tired, pale face.

She had waited so long for this.

For relief.

For justice.

But no more.

"– please – please –" He begged, and she took a step towards him and knelt before him, looking straight into his eyes.

"– let me, Rhaenys –" He muttered, not wanting her to burden herself with this, to dream nightmares like him, to suffer like him because of what she had done.

"– no – I want to feel the life drain out of him – as it did out of me, then –" She said, and the knife she held in her hand stabbed into his side like butter.

Tyland wailed, grabbing the hilt, but Daemon held him down, preventing him from moving – he saw her slide the blade out, a huge bloodstain spilling down his shirt, dripping down his leg straight onto the foil-lined floor.

"That's enough. I'll take care of the rest. Take a bath and burn everything." Daemon instructed, laying Tyland's barely alive body on the ground, his breathing shallow until his eyes went blank.

His soul had left his body.

"Come." He said to her, taking the knife from her palm, placing it on the floor. He nodded at Daemon and grabbed her hand, leading her upstairs to the bathroom where the bathtub was.

Her entire dress and hands were in blood.

"Come here, little one. Come, let's wash it all off. It's okay, honey." He whispered, hugging her close, sinking his hands into her soft, smooth curls, and she reciprocated the embrace, sighing, closing her eyes as if relieved.

"Thank you."

Again she lay in the bath red with blood, again she was pale, however this time he felt that the life was not escaping from her, but returning to her – with each passing minute her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide as if her mind had returned to reality.

"Is he dead?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, washing away with his hands any trace of what they had done from her beautiful, innocent body.

"He's no longer here. He's disappeared. He was just a monster from the wardrobe, nothing more, my love." He said quietly and she sighed, her hand touching his face.

"Do you still love me?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he looked at her, shocked.

"You are the love of my life. You need to rest. You are very tired. You haven't slept well in a long time. You're daydreaming." He replied, taking an unruly strand of hair from her face, her gaze warm and tender, meant only for him.

"Are you not disgusted with me? I've done something monstrous. I think I killed someone." She whispered, her eyes full of tears.

"– shhh –" He hushed her, pressing his forehead against hers, stroking her hair as if she were a small child. "– I forbid you to say such things – it will be our secret – mine, yours and your dad's – only we will know about it –"

"– about the monster from the wardrobe? –" She mumbled, and he nodded.

"– yes –"

Rhaenys

"– I'm scared, mummy – can I have my little lamp lit today too? –" Aemma muttered, but before she could answer her anything, she heard a voice from the bed above them, belonging to Visenya.

"– no, I can't sleep then –" Her older sister hissed, looking down at them, the bright curls she had inherited from her father in disarray.

"– I'm afraid of the monster from the television – the one from the horror movie that Aegon was watching –" Her daugther said in a breaking voice, and she furrowed her brow, shaking her head.

"– I told you this is not a film for small children –" She said sternly, and Aemma lowered her gaze on the verge of crying.

Vinseya groaned in frustration and climbed down the ladder, lying down under the duvet next to her little sister.

"– move along, coward – I'll kill any monster that disturbs my sleep –" Her daughter muttered, and she smiled and stood up, turning off the lamp.

"– good night –" She hummed and left, closing the door behind her.

She sighed, seeing the light on in his office, and moved lazily in that direction, finding him bent over documents. He glanced at her, then at the silhouette of her naked body hidden only beneath a soft silk bathrobe, and licked his lower lip with his tongue.

"– I'll come soon – give me a moment longer –"

"– talk to Aegon tomorrow – he mustn't let Aemma watch horror movies with himself because she is afraid afterwards – she's too little –" She said.

He shook his head, signing a few things.

"– I'll try, but you know him – he'll find a thousand excuses and explanations –" He grunted, and she laughed under her breath.

"– he resembles your brother –" She said amused, leaning her hip against the doorframe, and he snorted under his breath, the corner of his mouth lifted upwards.

"– indeed –" He said and looked up at her, his gaze again escaping down to her breasts and then even lower.

"Come here. Sit on the desk." He said, leaning back in his chair, and she obeyed his command with a smile, walking closer with a lazy step.

He stood up as soon as her buttocks touched the tabletop, spreading her thighs apart, making her have to reach back with her hand to catch her balance.

"– ah –" She gasped as his fingertips sank into her fleshy, warm womanhood, collecting her sticky wetness.

"– since when are you in this state? – hm? –" He hummed, pushing her closer to him with an impatient tug of his hand on her ass, the other digging warningly into her delicate skin, trailing it around her swollen clit.

"– since this morning – since I saw you come out wet and naked from the bathroom in our bedroom – I've needed you, and you haven't touched me –" She mewled regretfully, feeling her walls clench greedily around nothing, craving him inside her.

What he heard was enough for all his foreplay, and with her help he quickly undid the belt of his trousers, his breath heavy and hitched.

"– after all, I fucked you last night – I had to drive Aegon and Visenya to training – you could have joined me in the shower –" He exhaled, impatiently releasing his long, hard erection from his boxers.

She sighed and tilted her head back as, without even waiting for her response, he directed the head of his cock against her slit, opening her wide on his fat length, filling her with himself with one, lazy thrust.

"– uncle – o-oh, fuck, uncle, yes, yes, yes –" She cried out, resting her hands behind her back, letting the material of her bathrobe slide off her shoulders, revealing her breasts full of milk, bouncing each time his hips pounded against her buttocks.

"– God, be quiet – shhh, be good or I won't let you come – is that what you want? –" He breathed out and she bit her bottom lip with her teeth, looking up at him pleadingly, something in her gaze from which he began to slam into her like mad, himself struggling to restrain himself not to moan.

"– that's what I thought – you come to me – ah – begging with those big eyes for my cock – and then you can't even fucking behave –" He growled and sighed, feeling her struggling to stifle a sob of pleasure when another thrust against that same sweet spot made her fall apart in front of him, panting heavily along with him, the next few loud, sticky slaps of their bodies were enough for him to cum with a sigh of relief.

They knew each other's bodies all too well by now and, with amusement, found more and more that they had trouble holding back from coming too early.

It was just too pleasant.

"– I'm pregnant –" She whispered, and he blinked and looked at her, as if he needed a moment to start thinking soberly after such intense fulfilment.

"– what? – but –" He exhaled.

"– I'm sure – I went to the doctor today –"

"– you lied to me –" He said with irritation in his voice.

"– Criston drove me there – I told you I would go shopping with him and we did after the appointment – no lies –" She said with a smile, touching her belly affectionately.

Her husband sighed, placing his hand on hers, the expression on his face calm and gentle again.

"– it's the sixth – what a big family indeed –" He hummed, and she laughed, nodding her head.

"– yes, my love – another child to drive to training –" She said amused, and he kissed her forehead with tenderness, from which a pleasant warmth spread over her heart.

"– don't sit here too long –" She sighed, jumping off his desk as soon as he slid out of her.

"– I won't –"

On her way to their bedroom, she walked into their youngest child's room and smiled, covering her little son more tightly with the duvet. Aemon's leg immediately pushed the bedclothes off him with his mutter of displeasure, so she gave up and left him alone.

She froze, spotting a silhouette in the corner of the room, thinking it was a man, with bright eyes, blonde hair and a beard, but was relieved when, after a moment, she noticed that it was the only shadow cast by the wardrobe standing nearby.

When she walked into their bedroom, she immediately turned on the lamp by their bed and waited patiently for him to return.

She knew she wouldn't fall asleep anyway.

When she was alone in bed, she saw his face and her hands sticky with blood.

When she heard her uncle's footsteps, when his warm body finally lay down beside her and his lips placed a soft, sticky kiss on her neck, she turned off the light, his whisper next to her ear like the calm hum of the wind.

"– now I will let you moan as much as you wish –"

"– Aegon – don't let her swim out into the deep water – Daeron, Visenya keep an eye on her, after all you can see she can't swim well yet –" He shouted to their children the next day, lying in front of her on a towel on the beach, little Aemon, sitting next to them, was building a sandcastle, the hot sun burning their skin.

"– okay, Dad! –" She heard Daeron voice behind her, lying on her stomach in her black one-piece bathing suit with her back cut out, reading a book, her husband's doctoral thesis on an excavation he had run with her in one of the cities the year before.

"– what do you think? – it's the last time for corrections – I've read it hundreds of times and it already makes me want to vomit when I look at it –" He said disapprovingly, turning his gaze towards the sea again.

"– it's the best doctoral thesis I've ever read – really –" She said softly, turning the page, amazed at how effortlessly her husband wrote.

"– look, mummy – it's a fortress, and here's the moat – and there's a dragon on top –" Mumbled Aemon, forcing the Mighty Vhagar figurine that had once belonged to his father onto the top of the tower.

"– beautiful, darling – it looks like the real thing –" She said with warm approval, and Aemon smiled broadly, satisfied, busying himself with creating a bridge over the moat from sticks.

"– Aemma, don't swim so far away – how many times do I have to tell you? –" Her uncle called out, raising himself angrily on his elbow, and she sighed heavily, throwing him a look full of pity.

"– she has swimming sleeves that are full of air that will float her even if she stops moving her arms and legs – she won't drown –" She said, and her husband sighed heavily, looking anxiously towards their children playing in the water.

"– I prefer to be sure –" He muttered.

She looked at him tenderly for a moment, feeling nothing but warmth in her heart.

He was such a good father.

Such a good husband.

She knew that one day they would have to explain to their children why they only had a church wedding and were not married before the state.

But not yet.

"So let's make sure. We should swim with them." She said, extending her hand to him, and he looked at her, apparently recalling their conversation in his car then, many years ago, when he had described his fantasy to her.

He licked his lips with his tongue and grinned in a way she loved.

"Come."

______

Author's note: The child that Rhaenys lost was Viserys: I decided that this story, because it is so dark, could not end differently, and the decisions of the characters had to lead to tragedy sooner or later. Something dies in Rhaenys, but thanks to this she can finally fully join her husband in their Hades, crossing the border of innocence and naivety, maturing in a kind of cruel way. However, the rest of their children, who appeared in the original series, are born. After losing Viserys (in this version they did not know that it would be a boy), they decided that they wanted to have as many children as God would give them, since he took one away from them (in their eyes one too many). Visenya and Aegon will definitely become mafia bosses in the future, just like their father, lol. Their children have the same characters and looks like in the original series, which you can see here.

[slut4hee]

Never Have I Ever, Fell In Love With A Psycho | S.JY Teaser

{Paring: Ghostface Jake x Blk Cheerleader Fem! Reader

Release date: Tba

{Synopsis: You are the Star Cheerleader of Woodsboro University, Highly favored by your professors and well loved by your peers. You’re known for being a kind hearted soul, who volunteers to help host the charity events at your school and playing your role as the notorious team captain of the cheer squad. So what could you have possibly done to become Ghostface’s target?

{Genre: smut, serial killer themes, angst, Jake is batshit crazy, college au, 18+ so (mdni).

{Warnings: explicit scenes, rough sex, oral (m&r receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, cum eating, knife play, dirty talk, fingering, pet names, mentions of murder, possessive behavior, obsession (Jake), stalking, character death (not reader or Jake), Jealousy, one sided love at first (Jake), profanities, kidnapping.

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Your heart pounds out of your chest rapidly as tears and your now ruined eyeliner runs down your face. You sprint through the hallways of the school running for dear life, hoping and praying that whatever fucked up nightmare this was you will wake up from it soon. You can hear their eerie dark voice and evil menacing laugh behind you causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.

Your vision is blurred from the tears that won’t stop falling from your eyelids, fear consumes you whole as you hear the footsteps getting closer and closer to you. Your breathing is ragged, your heart feels like it’s gonna explode any minute from the adrenaline that’s rushing through your veins.

They’re hot on your tail, you can hear them everywhere around you, from behind you, and in your head completely taking over your brain cells. Finally barging into a empty classroom you lock the door shut.

You spot a storage closet making your way into it, you place your hand over your mouth trying to ground yourself from making any noise while trying to control your breathing. You hear what sounds like the sound of metal dragging against the wall piercing through your eardrums.

The waterworks continues as you try to calm yourself down, fighting the urge to scream out loud because you’re so damn terrified. Your heart sinks to your stomach when you hear the door to the classroom slam open.

You hear footsteps walking slowly across the perfectly polished vinyl floors. A knife can be heard being slowly dragged against the desk causing a horrible sound to echo throughout the classroom causing your breath to hitch.

Your eyes go wide when you realize you given yourself away and you pray to god you wake up from this shitty nightmare as soon as possible. The footsteps grow closer to the storage closet as you peak out the little opening of the closet door.

A figure can be seen wearing a black hooded robe, a white skull like mask, and black gloves. You’re full on going into a state of panic when you recognize the masked person from the news and pictures and posters that’s been posted all around campus.

You heard the masked killer goes by Ghostface and he’s known for being a very heartless brutal serial killer. he’s killed 20 people so far and your heart sinks knowing you will mark the 21st person he murders if he was to kill you.

Just as you are processing the information in your head the door to the closet door swings open and you’re met with none other then Ghostface himself. Your heart feels like it’s not beating anymore as time seems to stop.

You don’t move a muscle, completely frozen and paralyzed from the fear and anxiety that’s coursing through your veins. The masked person slightly tilts their head to the side almost like they’re studying your every move.

Finally building up enough strength to speak you decide to do what anyone would do in this situation, beg for their life to spared.

“P-Please don’t kill me, I haven’t done anything wrong to you please I don’t want to die I’ll do anything you want just please don’t murder me” you plead from the bottom of your heart, hoping Ghostface will let you go. The masked figure doesn’t say a word but just stares at you. His breathing coming in steady and calm causing a gut wrenching chill to run down your spine.

suddenly the masked figure starts to chuckle lowly almost mockingly as they bring the cold metal knife to your chin gently lifting your face being careful to not cut through your pretty brown skin and finally they speak.

“Oh Y/n baby, how could you think so little of me? You think I would hurt the most precious thing I hold dearly to me? Do you think I would harm you my darling love, I’m so disappointed in you my love I thought you would’ve known better” the masked figure leans closer to your face, you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear.

“You mean the world to me my sweet baby, I could never harm you I will kill myself before I lay a finger on you my dear” they hum reassuringly, tucking one of your braids behind your ear.

“W-Who are you! I-I don’t even know who you are how could you possibly be in love with me” you managed to blurt out despite of being scared for your life. Your eyes widened when the masked figure slowly removes their mask, revealing none other than Jake Sim, the top student in your physics class, the guy who never really speaks to anyone, the guy who sits in the back distant from everyone, the guy who nobody would have thought would be committing these horrible murders.

“What’s wrong baby girl? Surprised to see me” Jake smirks at you with an evil unhinged smile, the fear consumes you still, but the flutter in your stomach and the way your heart skips a beat has you questioning your sanity and now you find yourself asking yourself are you just as insane as him?

To be continued…

A/n: eeeee I’m so excited to write this story, I’m so down bad for Ghostface Jake so I know I’m gonna be creaming nonstop while writhing this 😭 but guys I hope you enjoy the teaser because i literally suck at writing them. Please feel free to reblog, share, comment, and like muah 💋.



[serpentandlily]

Untouchable - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand's Sister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part I

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Your heart was twisting in your chest, a sick feeling curling in the pit of your stomach, as you hurried down the dimly lit hallways of the River House. You held a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break loose and the bile that stung the back of your throat. You could do it, you could hold it in. At least until you got back to your room. And then you’d be free to cry and cry and cry as much as you wanted to.

You had spent years trying to bury your feelings for the shadowsinger. What had started out as a harmless crush on your older brother’s friend when you were just a girl had blossomed into true, real feelings since you had come of age. But despite your best efforts, Azriel still never seemed to notice you. Not like that anyways. 

Him and Cassian had adored you the moment you had entered their life as just a babe and the sister of their best friend. You had been born during a time of peace, decades after the war. The three of them had been nearing two-hundred. They had watched you grow into the female you were today. Had been there through your toughest years after watching your mother brutally murdered in front of you at the age of thirteen, barely saved before your own life was taken.

It was a good thing Rhys had become High Lord before the time you reached eighteen or your father would’ve had you married off, no doubt for some political alliance. You had hoped your brother would’ve given you a role in his court once you were of age but after almost losing you, he had become increasingly protective. 

So instead of being sent on missions, or used as an emissary, you spent most of your time volunteering in Velaris—helping to build the sanctuary into what it was today. You had eventually stopped arguing with your brother to loosen up his hold on you when he had broken down crying in front of you simply at the thought of you never returning if he was to send you out in the world. 

And how could you complain when Velaris had been your cage? So you learned to play your role, for him, for your brother. The pretty little sister of the High Lord. Never known for anything but your beauty. The beauty that had males sending your father marriage propositions since the age of ten. 

But there had only ever been one person you wished would see you that way. And he never had. You had to watch him pine after your own cousin for centuries. Never once looking your way. You feared he’d only ever see you as that little girl—the one who used to climb all over them at the cabin, the one who had the three males wrapped around her finger since she had been born. 

Only ever just a girl in his eyes. 

And you had made peace with that, as much as it hurt to be looked over by the one person you wanted the most. It still bothered you to watch his eyes track Mor all the time, to stare at her in a way he would never look at  you. You had made peace with that…until tonight.

You couldn’t lie to yourself and say you hadn’t seen the shift in him when he started looking after the middle Archeron sister. You had once believed he only had eyes for Mor, and it had brought you some solace in knowing that might be the only reason he had never looked your way. 

But then Elain showed up and those affections shifted from Mor to her. Suddenly he was always with her, spending hours in the gardens with Elain. Staring at her the way he would stare at Mor. Your heart had started crumbling all over again with the realization that he could move on from Mor, could fall for someone other than her—and it hadn’t been you. 

You had left your bed chambers tonight to fetch a glass of water from the kitchens but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you would’ve walked in on. You had smelt them before you opened the doors. Azriel’s cedar and night-chilled mist and Elain’s sweet jasmine and honey. 

You should’ve left then but something had compelled you to open the kitchen doors just a hair. 

And there they were. Elain seated on the counter, Azriel between her legs. Her skirt has been pushed up to her thighs, his hands tangled in her hair, as they kissed like two starved animals. 

You were lucky you had spent years learning how to keep a strong mask like your brother, for it allowed you to slip away without them ever noticing you. 

You finally made it to your room, shutting the door and locking it behind you. You were grateful for the sound wards you had put up because the minute you stepped over that threshold you collapsed into a heap on the floor as heart-wrenching sobs erupted from your lips.

It felt like you had been stabbed in the heart with a million knives, like someone had gutted you and twisted your insides. It hurt so much to think that Azriel would never want you the way you wanted him. He didn’t want you. He didn’t crave your presence the way you did his. He didn’t want to touch you the way you wanted to touch him. He just didn’t want you. 

And he never would.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Send me somewhere,” you said, pressing your palms onto your brother’s desk as you stared at him right in the eyes—the eyes you shared. “Anywhere, I don’t care. Just send me somewhere.”

Rhys frowned, his eyebrows pinching together. “What has gotten into you? Did something happen?”

You let out a sigh, collapsing in one of the armchairs. You couldn’t tell him the real reason you wanted to leave. It was embarrassing. “Nothing happened. I’m just…tired of being cooped up here. Please, Rhys. It doesn’t even have to be far—just please.”

“Where is this coming from, y/n? You haven’t asked this in years. I thought you were happy here.”

“I am happy here. But I want to see the world, Rhys. And we’re finally in a time of peace. So let me, please.”

Rhys’s eyes narrowed, taking in your appearance. The slightly swollen eyes, the dark circles, the haphazard way you had braided your hair this morning. “Did…did someone hurt you? Did someone do something to you?”

“What? No!” A lie of course. But what could you say? Azriel had hurt you but it wasn’t like it was his fault. It wasn’t like he owed you anything.

“You know you can always talk to me about anything. Right, dove?” The use of his nickname for you nearly caused the tears you were fighting back to escape. 

“Of course, Rhys. But I promise you. No one did anything to me. Please. The war is finally over and I think I’ve spent enough of my life here. I want to see what the rest of the world has to offer.”

Rhys’s head fell in his hands. “I-I don’t think I can let you go, dove. I’m sorry but I can’t bear it…I can’t bear not having you here where I can protect you.” 

“It’s not fair!” You shouted, standing up. “I’m not a child anymore—I’m nearly three hundred years old for Gods sake! I’m suffocating here, Rhysie. Please.”

“Rhys,” Feyre said softly, placing a tattooed hand on her mate’s shoulder. “Perhaps it is time you let y/n make her own choices. You promised me you’d always give me a choice—would always let me decide what to do with my life. Why can’t that apply to your sister?”

You shot her a grateful look, hoping she would make him see reason. Rhys stayed silent and you knew he had been struck by her words. “I can go to Mor, on the continent. Then you don’t have to worry about me being alone. I can help her try to form alliances there.”

Still he said nothing but judging by Feyre’s narrowed eyes, you could tell they were having an argument mentally. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress, wishing that he would listen to his mate about this. If anyone could talk Rhys into something, it was her. 

It felt like an eternity went by before your brother finally looked up at you. His eyes were full of sadness and guilt and you knew in that moment, you had won.

“Fine, fine. But you will go to Mor in Vallahan and stay with her the whole time. You will listen to her at all times and never go anywhere alone. And you will write me twice a week,” Rhys growled. “And I swear, y/n, if you even miss one letter, I will come get you myself. Those are my rules—take it or leave it.” 

A genuine smile bloomed on your face as you jumped to your feet and ran around the desk to embrace your brother in your arms. “Thank you, Rhys! Thank you! I promise I’ll do as you say. I promise.”

He held you tightly as if he never wanted to let go and you peered at Feyre from over his shoulders to mouth her a small ‘thank you’.

This was it. You’d finally be able to leave this city after three hundred years. Finally see the world! And most importantly: be far, far away from the shadowsinger that had won your heart but fallen for another. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Three months went by in the blink of an eye. You had spent the entire time traveling with Mor from Vallahan to Montesere, where you two had just settled down when Rhys had contacted you both, asking for your return home. Apparently he had big news to share but he wanted to do it in person. So now you were packing up your things, getting ready to return back to Velaris for the first time since you had left.

It had been annoying how much you thought of Azriel still. But it was getting easier to ignore the longer you were away. You hoped those feelings would eventually disappear entirely—but every time you thought of moving on, something in your chest would ache and ache. 

That didn’t mean you hadn’t taken lovers in your time here. It had always been hard to find males to mess around with in Velaris considering they all knew who your brother was. The last thing they wanted was for Rhys to come looking for them after sleeping with you. So you’d only taken a few lovers here and there throughout the years.

But on the continent, no one knew who you were. Had no idea that you were the younger sister of one of Prythian’s High Lords. And Mor had been sure to teach you all the ways to have someone wrapped around your finger. You had never felt so confident in yourself as you did now. Finally becoming the female you wanted to be without your brother or the two other bats watching you over your shoulder. It was exhilarating.

But the thought of returning home had dampened some of your newfound joy. You were worried about slipping into your old role—being that sweet, pretty, little accessory they all expected you to be. 

You wouldn’t allow that. You couldn’t. Not after having a taste of what it could be like if you became the female you always dreamed you’d be. Someone who knew she was desired for more than just her looks. Someone interesting. Someone smart and witty. Someone brave. You tried to ignore the part of you that hoped Azriel might see those things in you now.

“Are you ready to go, y/n?” Mor asked, leaning against the doorframe of your room. 

You took one last look at yourself in the floor length mirror. You were wearing a dress that was typical of what they wore here in Montesere. If you could even call it a dress. It was white, the bodice dipping into a v-shape and clinging to your body with gold embellishments and blue gems decorating it. It had long sleeves that connected to a hood, stitched in glimmering gold. It cut off right under your breasts, exposing your toned stomach until just slightly passed your belly button. 

The skirt was held up by two thin gold straps that criss-crossed over the sides of your hips to connect it to the top part of the dress. The skirt itself traveled to the floor and had two long slits on either side to show off your legs. The white color complimented your tanned skin and the kohl you had lined your eyes with made the violet color of your eyes glimmer even brighter. 

You had left your hair down in soft curls, only pinning back two strands on either side of your face with some gold pins. More than happy with the way you looked, you turned back to Mor with a grin. 

“I’m ready to go home.” 

[keanusbabydoll]

longing

paring: peepaw!myers x fem!reader

warnings: 18+content, angst, mentions of murder, michael himself is a warning, smut, rough sex, no aftercare, choking, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, little to no foreplay, huge age gap, sadism if you squint

a/n: probably not the best smut i’ve written but it was 3am and i was tired :o

it was a chilly night in haddonfield, the air thick with an unsettling silence. the streets were eerily empty, except for the flickering jack-o'-laterns on porches and the occasional sound of children laughing in the distance. on one street, however, the atmosphere was anything but calm. a mob of angry residents had gathered, their faces set with determination and a hint of desperation. they were waiting, waiting for the moment of retribution against the shape that had haunted their town for decades.

among the mob were you, a young woman, confused and scared. you clutched a baseball bat that a stranger gave to you nervously, your knuckles white from the tension. you had lost friends to michael myers, the embodiment of pure evil, but you couldn't shake the feeling off that what those people were about to do wasn't right.

the mob's plan was simple: lure michael myers into a trap and end his reign of terror once and for all. karen, your best friend's mom, also daughter of laurie strode, was the one to set the bait, stepping out of the dark with michael's mask in her hand.

michael, unmasked and exposed, approached the trap with his usual silent menace. he reached down and grabbed his mask, pulling it on with a tight grip on his knife. the mob surged forward, ready to attack, but you hesitated. you let the bat fall from your hands and took a few steps back, your heart pounding in your chest. as the people descended on Michael, your eyes widened in horror. you knew this wasn't right. even after everything he has done.

a scream tore from your throat, halting everyone in their tracks. even Michael's blank, soulless eyes seemed to turn towards you.

"stop! this isn't right!" you yelled. "he's also just human!"

the people turned their hateful gazes on you, their faced twisted with anger and disgust. your words defending michael led to you being grabbed roughly, hands tied behind your back. you were thrown to the ground next to Michael, the cold pavement digging into your knees. you thought it was over, you would be slaughtered right next to the shape.

but Michael had other plans.

with a swift, brutal efficiency, he fought back, killing everyone who dared to attack him. blood splattered the ground, screams filled the air, but you were untouched. when the gruesome scene in front of you ended, Michael's cold eyes fixed on you. his knife still clung tightly in his hand. your breath caught in your throat as he approached, your body trembling with fear. you closed your eyes, expecting the end.

instead, you felt the tightness around your wrists disappear. your eyes snapped open in shock to see Michael standing over you, his head tilted in that unsettling way. you cautiously got to your feet, taking a few steps back. but Michael didn't move to harm you; instead he pointed at his wounded chest, silently asking you for help. hesitating, you nodded, your heart still pounding. in a flash Michael lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to an abandoned cabin on the outskirts of town.

the cabin was a relic of a bygone era, its walls creaking with age and neglect. you carefully tended to Michael's wounds, using whatever supplies you could find. you knew that this was incredibly wrong, but somehow it felt so right to you. feeling a strange sense of duty and compassion, you stayed with him. michael, for his part, was confused by your gentleness, your care. he was used to hate, to killing, not kindness.

over a few months, you and Michael settled into an uneasy coexistence. you both moved into your house, hidden away form the prying eyes of the world. you took care of him in every way that you could, cooking for him, buying him proper clothes. the shape was perplexed by your tenderness and your determination to protect him. he didn't understand why he allowed it, why he didn't kill you like everyone else. something about you was different.

as time passed, you found yourself falling for the masked man. you couldn't explain it, but there was something about Michael that drew you in. despite his cold exterior and violent tendencies, you believed that there was more to him. he was still a mystery, a cold, silent presence in your home. maybe it was his quiet strength, his stoic nature that intrigued you. michael, too, felt a strange pull towards you, though he didn't understand it.

months turned into a year, and your relationship became more complex. your feelings deepened, but Michael remained distant, cold. you wanted more from him, needed more. you had done everything you could to make him feel at home, to show him that he was safe with you, that he could trust you. but Michael remained closed off, distant.

he didn't allow you to touch him, rejected your attempts at affection. you obviously grew frustrated, longing for his touch, his love. you just wanted something in return. of course you understood it somehow. Michael was a lost, misunderstood soul, hated by everyone and he wasn't used to someone actually caring for him. but still you expected just a little bit of affection from him and the longing you felt for him grew stronger each day, and with it, your frustration.

Michael noticed your change in behavior but didn't understand the reasons behind it.

one night, you were sitting on the couch, a horror movie playing on the tv. you barely paid any attention to the film, your mind too preoccupied with the man sitting beside you. you glanced at him, his tall, imposing figure taking up most of the couch, his mask still in place. even with the mask on you found him so sexy, so attractive.

you couldn't take it anymore.

the need to feel him close, to know that he was real, that he cared for you in some way, was overwhelming. hell, you wanted his man to finally fuck you. you've been together for more than a year now and nothing sexual happened even in the slightest bit.

you scooted closer to him, trying to snuggle up against his side, but just as you feared, he pushed you away with slight force, a growl leaving his mouth.

as always.

"Michael..." you began, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. "I cant keep doing this."

he didn't respond, not even looking at you. his eyes kept fixated on the tv, but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands clenched into fists.

you stood up almost immediately, your frustration boiling over.

"you don't care, do you?" you snapped, tears welling in your eyes. "I've done everything for you! I've given you a home, cared for you, and I... I feel so much for you, but you just-" you broke off, voice catching in your throat. "I can't live like this, not with a relationship where I'm the only one who feels anything."

you turned to leave, the tears now spilling over, but before you could take a step, Michaels hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. you gasped, turning back to face him, your heart pounding strongly against your chest. he pulled you back, his grip firm but not painful, and for the first time, you saw something in his eyes that you hadn't seen before - a flicker of emotion, something raw and vulnerable.

then, to your shock, Michael reached up and slowly pulled off his mask.

your breath caught in your throat as you looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. you had seen him unmasked before, on the night you met, but it was dark and everything happened so fast.

his face was scarred, rugged, and a white, trimmed beard covered it, but he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. there was a gentleness in his eyes that took you by surprise. you had expected coldness, detachment, but instead, you saw, regret, and something else - something that made your heart ache.

"Michael..." you whispered, voice trembling.

he obviously didn't reply, but the way he looked at you, the way his hand still held your wrist, told you everything you needed to know. slowly, cautiously, he pulled you even closer, until your faces where just inches apart. your heart raced, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you waited, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. you didn't fully understand what was happening and why Michael acted like that suddenly. but you weren't complaining in the slightest bit. that was exactly what you've wanted for longer than a year.

then, finally, he leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss. it was tentative at first, almost like he wasn't quite sure what to do, but when you responded, pressing your lips more firmly against his, he deepened it. the kiss was filled with a desperation, a need that had been buried deep within him for so long. one of his hands moved to your waist, pulling you on top of him, while the other one rested lazily on your thigh. and for the first time since you had met, you felt his warmth, his desire.

the heat began to pool in your panties, the whole situation was turning you on way too much. when his hand wandered from your waist to your ass and gave it a harsh squeeze, you gathered all your courage and began grinding down on him, feeling his bulge already pressing up into you. a muffled moan echoed off the walls, when your clothed clit rubbed deliciously against his erection. you could feel Michael tense up as well as his hand squeezed even harder and his breaths became heavier. you increased your speed and pulled away from his lips, head falling back in pleasure.

when you returned your hazy gaze back to him, he was already watching you like his prey. his expression was cold but his eyes were sparkling with lust and hunger. hesitatingly, you put your hands on his chest, slowly gripping the zip of his blue coveralls, pulling it down his chest. your hands felt the warm skin beneath it and held on tight to his shoulders.

but michael had other plans. he didn’t want to keep up your bullshit of preparation. with a tight grip on your waist he roughly manhandled you on your back. he crawled on top of you, grabbing the collar of your shirt as he tore it apart, making you gasp out in shock. he tossed it away before he quickly got rid of your bra. then, he ripped open your pants, adding it to the pile of clothes.

your heart was beating rapidly and the ache in your core started to get unbearable. you waited so long for this moment - too long.

“please michael.” you whimpered out as you pushed your hips up, signing him that you need more.

he grunted in response, getting up from the couch and pulling down his coveralls and boxers. your eyes almost fell out when you saw his length. it was thick, long and veiny. something so big you’ve never seen before. with the blink of an eye he was on you again. his hands grabbed your thighs, spreading them as wide as possible. you curiously propped yourself up on your elbows, as you watched him pushing your panties to the side.

as he saw your wet, glistening pussy, you could have sworn you saw him licking his lips. michael put both of his hands beside your arms, trapping you, before he lined his cock up with your entrance. your eyes searched for his and when he finally looked at you, he plunged his whole length inside your hole with one harsh thrust- his dick filling you to the brim and stretching you to your limit. a scream tore from your throat and your eyes were shut at the stretch. waves of stinging pain cursed through your whole body and your walls clenched tightly around him.

but michael wouldn’t let you get used to it. he isn’t that type of man.

as soon as he felt his tip kissing your cervix, he began to rut into you with a fast pace, never planning on going gentle. loud moans and cry’s filled the air as you tried to get used to his size which was almost impossible because of his harsh pounding. his hips just moved faster and faster, almost making you see stars.

“slow down michael.” you choked out as you lay back down again. in reply, michael surged forward and wrapped a calloused hand around your throat tightly, almost cutting off your airway. your eyes shot open at the sudden lack of air and you looked at him with pleading eyes. but michael didn’t show mercy. how could he have? he’s the shape of haddonfield. nobody gets to tell him what to do.

in a matter of seconds, michael had you up in a mating press, the new position allowing him to go deeper, his tip pressing against your g-spot deliciously. “oh fuck! you feel so good michael.” you yelled out, hands gripping on his arms for support. by now you were used to his size and all you experienced was pure pleasure. the both of you moaned out as he went in and out of your tight cunt. the hand that squeezed your throat now wandered down to your breast and kneaded it roughly, only adding to the intense sensations he’s giving to you.

michael let out a low growl, his thrusts becoming more desperate, chasing his own release. your nails dug sharply into his flesh and you slowly felt your orgasm building up. with his pelvis constantly clashing against your puffy clit, you only reached your high faster. “please michael let me come.” you pleaded, eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

suddenly he pulled out of you and before you could even comprehend it, he threw you on your stomach, ass up in the air. immediately, he reentered you, his thrusts just as harsh and fast as before. your face was mushed up against the couch, whimpers and high pitched moans leaving your lips. michael’s hands found their way to your hips, pulling your body roughly back, meeting his own thrusts.

this position made him go even deeper, rougher and when you felt his tip constantly brushing against your sweet spot, you tripped over the edge. a pornographic moan rang through the room as you came with such a great force, almost passing out from the intensity.

your orgasm made him go feral and he began to pound into you with an animalistic pace, inhuman even- to a point were it began to hurt. his hips snapped so harshly against your ass, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“too much. s-stop.” you begged, voice just above a whisper. with an answering growl, he aggressively gripped the roots of your hair and pulled your body up, forcing you to arch your back uncomfortably. a string of loud cry’s came out of your mouth and tears started to pour down your cheeks uncontrollably.

the loud sound of skin slapping against each other and the heavy smell of sex that lingered in the air, made your brain dizzy. your arms threatened to give out but michael pulled you now fully up against him, pressing his chest into your back.

the squeals and cry’s that came out of your mouth turned him on even more and the fact that you were experiencing pain, made him go crazy. if he would have known before that he could use you like this, he would have fucked you months ago.

after a few minutes of his relentless pounding you noticed his breaths getting louder, the grunts and growls he would let out here and there were also getting more intense, signing you he was almost reaching his high.

“cum inside me michael.” you managed to squeal out and in reply michael fucked into you with all his strength, hands grabbing your tits and teeth biting into your shoulder. with an animalistic growl, he finally let go and painted your walls with his white liquid. he continued to push in and out of you, fucking his cum deep inside of you.

you could barely hold your eyes open and your body was feeling like jelly. but then michael pulled out of your hole and you immediately fell back on the sofa. exhausted breaths came out of your mouth, trying to calm down from the intense fuck.

you felt his weight shifting on the couch and heard him getting dressed again. your eyes were still closed when he suddenly gripped your hair again and pulled your head up. he was bent down to your level and you saw something in his eyes you’ve never seen before.

“good girl.” he faintly whispered before releasing his grip and walking away. your mouth opened at his words and your brows furrowed.

you thought you were dreaming. for the first time ever michael spoke to you.

[persevereforahappyending]

This isn't Your Fault (Revenge)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: She turned back to the display case, after contemplating it for a moment she lifted the lid, reaching down and grabbing the knife.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Death, Murder, Torture (I guess?)

Word Count: 7.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

“Enough!” Tara snapped. “We’re kind of on a time limit.” She glared at her sister, Chad, and Mindy. “Come. Don’t come,” she directed at the twins. “I don’t care, but we’re leaving. Now,” she turned to Sam and then began walking towards the door.

She heard footsteps stumbling to catch up to her. She didn’t need to turn around to know all three of them were following her. “We need to meet Gale,” Tara said, still not bothering to glance back at the others.

“Where are we meeting her?” Mindy asked. Sam pulled up her phone showing the location. Mindy’s eyes widened. “Why would we want to meet there?”

“Because it’s the perfect spot to set a trap,” Sam started to explain.

“Who cares!” Tara snapped again. “Let’s take the subway, it’ll be quicker.”

She finally glanced back at the others to see all 3 of them sharing a concerned look. She narrowed her eyes at them, making all three of them, even Sam, drop their gaze to the ground. Her girlfriend was lying injured in the hospital after almost being brutally murdered, they would have to forgive her for being a little impatient, and they needed to hurry the fuck up or Ghostface wasn’t going to be the only one suffering this night.

They made their way to the subway, all of them barely shoving themselves on. Once the doors closed all four of them tensed up when they got a good look at their surroundings. Tara had almost forgot it was Halloween. Nearly everyone was dressed in costume, a majority of them wearing a Ghostface costume specifically.

“How many stops?” Tara asked, glancing around at the Ghostface’s that surrounded them.

“Ten,” Sam answered, shifting closer to Tara as she watched the movements of every Ghostface.

Chad shifted, putting his body in front of Mindy and partially in front of Tara and Sam. Tara could see the fear in his eyes and the way his jaw was locked in place. His hand held onto the pole so tight his knuckles were turning white, but he stared down any Ghostface that so much as glanced their way. Sam moved behind Tara, resting her hand on the pole so her arm was resting around Tara’s shoulder. Mindy and Tara stood there, eyes darting all around the subway, squished between Chad and Sam.

With each stop a Ghostface moved, inching closer and closer to the group. All four of them watched and waited, ready to make a move. Attacking someone on a crowded subway would be a bold move, even for Ghostface, but Tara wouldn’t put it past him. Knowing Ghostface, and their luck, Ghostface would stab at least two of them and be off at the next stop before anyone were to realize what had happened.

Luckily their stop finally came, and they all piled out, lucky to escape without an incident. The four of them quickly made their way down the street to the location they were to meet Gale. They slowed their pace as they approached the alley, it wasn’t dark yet, but the sun had just begun to set.

“Good, you made it,” Gale said, popping out from the alleyway.

All four of them jumped, Chad even pushing Mindy in front of himself. Mindy turned around, slapping her brother hard on the shoulder. Tara glared at Gale, she didn’t have time to almost have a heart attack, she needed to find Ghostface, kill him, and then go back to you and spend the rest of the night apologizing. Tara would spend the rest of her life groveling for your forgiveness as long as she got to tell you Ghostface was dead.

“Are you ready for this?” Gale asked, looking at Sam before settling her gaze on Tara.

Tara nodded. “Let’s make this bastard pay,” She growled out.

Gale nodded, leading them down the alley and through the first set of doors. “Okay, I got everything all setup.” They followed her to the cage where she swiped the keycard, unlocking the metal door, they all piled into the room, waiting for Gale to flip the switch.

When the lights came on Tara’s breath caught in her throat. Gale had found the theater with a shrine to Ghostface and all the killings a couple months prior. She contacted them and they all came to see it. She had discovered it after two boys from Tara’s class had killed their teacher, only to end up murdered themselves. Sam was freaking out that it was Ghostface related but after Tara’s relentless begging and giving the police time to investigate nothing ever happened. No phone calls were made, no other killings happened, there was just silence. Sam was still one edge but without Ghostface coming after them it was hard to believe it was a real Ghostface attacked, it was chalked up to a copycat.

Tara had only been to the theater once and once was enough. She walked the display cases, seeing every gruesome detail of all the past killings. She even saw photos of her own attack, the shirt she had been wearing proudly on display with her blood still staining it. Tara hated the theater and wanted everything in it to burn, but if Ghost had a headquarters this was the most logical spot. It was also the spot they could most likely surprise him, setting up their own trap and catching him off guard.

“What’s the plan?” Chad asked, running his fingers across the glass display cases.

“We lure Ghostface here and then we kill him,” Tara said bluntly.

“We created a kill box,” Sam explained, looking at Tara with concern. “Once he steps foot in here, the doors close, and no one can come in or go out.”

“So, we’re bait?” Mindy said slowly.

“You didn’t have to come,” Tara snapped. She knew her friends didn’t deserve her attitude, but she couldn’t help it. She just needed Ghostface to arrive trying to kill them so they could turn the tables and kill him instead.

“So, what do we do now?” Chad asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

“We wait,” Gale said.

Everyone nodded, moving to separate corners of the theater. They all had visual of each other, but they didn’t want to be next to each other, they knew it wasn’t time to talk. Sam made her way up the stage where the case with Billy Loomis’s cloak hung. Tara watched her for a moment before her eyes drifted down to the display case in front of her. It was her attack, crime scene photos of her kitchen and hallway decorated with blood. Tara tapped the glass, flashing back to that night.

Tara ran a hand down her face even though she hadn’t begun to cry. She shook her head, getting back into the right mindset, she couldn’t focus on the past, the only thing that mattered in the moment was avenging you. She glanced back up at Sam when a ring broke out making everyone jump as it echoed through the room. Everyone followed the sound, their eyes all landing on Mindy.

She slowly pulled out her phone, looking at the screen. “It’s Anika,” she sighed in relief. Tara held her breath though, waiting for Mindy to answer. When she had been attacked, she thought she had been talking to Amber, but it was Ghostface, who turned out to be Amber but that was beside the point. Until Mindy heard Anika’s voice there was no telling who was on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” Mindy asked. “Hello?” she scrunched her eyebrows. “Babe, I can’t hear you.” She took the phone away from her ear looking at the others. “I don’t have signal, let me take this outside.”

“Wait,” Sam said, taking a step forward.

“It could be important,” Mindy argued.

“I’ll go with her,” Chad said.

That ended the discussion. The twins wandered back out of the room, hoping to get a better signal. Tara looked to Sam who stood in the middle of the stage. Something didn’t feel right but she couldn’t place her finger on it. She turned back to the display case, after contemplating it for a moment she lifted the lid, reaching down and grabbing the knife. Tara’s hand shook as she gripped the handle before tucking it into her pants, it was the same knife Amber had used to stab her and it was going to be the same knife she used to kill Ghostface.

The second Tara closed the lid of the display case the lights went out. “Tara?” Sam called. Tara stumbled making her way in the direction she knew the stage to be. The lights flipped back on and her and Sam ran to each other, gripping on to each other’s arm as they stood in the middle of the stage. They spun around in a circle looking for who had turned the lights off.

Gale started to make her way up the steps towards them when a Ghostface appeared behind her. “Watch out!” Sam screamed, pushing Tara behind her. It was too late, Gale barely had time to turn before the blade was imbedded into her shoulder. Gale stumbled back down the steps, putting a hand to her wound to stop the bleeding. She turned, facing Ghostface but they quickly kneed her in the stomach, grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head into the side of the stage.

Tara gripped Sam’s arm, and Sam gripped her hand back just as tight. They backed up, neither of their eyes leaving Ghostface who stood at the bottom of the steps, his head tilted, staring at them. The lights went out again and the only thing Tara could hear was her and Sam’s breathing. Then there was loud banging from the outside door and what sounded like Chad screaming. That’s when Tara realized it, they didn’t set up a trap for Ghostface, he set up a trap for them. Tara and Sam were locked in the theater with Ghostface while Gale was unconscious and bleeding out, and Chad and Mindy were locked out on the other side of the door.

Tara’s eyes darted all around the room, it was pitch black, any light that had been on was now out. She couldn’t make out anything, she couldn’t even hear the shuffling of feet. When the lights came back on Ghostface was standing right in front of her, head tilted, staring into her with those empty black eyes.

Tara jumped, letting out a gasp, as she gripped Sam’s arm, pulling her back. Sam spun around to see Ghostface in front of Tara, she let go of Tara’s hand, giving Ghostface a hard shove. They stumbled back, dropping their knife in the process. Sam quickly scooped it up, holding out towards Ghostface as he was left kneeling on the ground.

“Girls!” came a voice.

Tara and Sam turned, searching for the voice, Sam making sure to keep the knife pointed at Ghostface. They saw Quinn’s dad, detective Bailey entering through the gated door. He had his gun drawn and his head was looking from side to side as if he was checking the place out.

“How did you know where we were?” Sam asked. Tara moved closer to her sister, eyeing Bailey suspiciously.

“Kirby called,” he said, still moving his gun as he eyed his surrounding, slowly making his way to the girls.

“Kirby?” Sam furrowed her brow. Tara glanced at Sam, having the same look, they never told Kirby where they were going.

Before they could question him further another Ghostface appeared, knife raised and running up behind Bailey. “Look out!” Sam shouted. It was just the distraction the Ghostface kneeling before them needed, he reached up, ripping the knife back out of Sam’s hand.

Sam moved, elbowing Ghostface in the mask, causing him to drop the knife again. They both dove for the knife, their fingers nearly grazing it when Bailey fired, his bullet flying into the floorboard next to the knife. Sam jumped, looking back up at Baily. Ghostface grabbed the knife, turning around to point it at her, just as she had been doing to him. The Ghostface backed up slowly, joining Bailey at his side, as the one that had been running towards Bailey stood on his other side.

“You?” Sam asked, the shock evident in her voice.

“Yeah, me,” Bailey said, shrugging with a grin. “You’ve probably put together the rest,” he slapped the shoulder of the Ghostface on his left.

The Ghostface reached up, lifting off his mask to reveal Ethan. Both girls’ eyes widened. Tara shouldn’t be surprised. You had been attacked, she knew it wasn’t her sister, Mindy, Chad, or Gale. The options of who Ghostface could be were pretty limited and if Anika was still at the hospital with you that only left… Tara’s gaze shifted to the still masked Ghostface on Bailey’s right.

“Hey, roomies,” Quinn said with a smile as she revealed herself as the final Ghostface.

“What the fuck!” Sam said, looking between the three of them.

“You think you can mess with our family and just get away with it!” Quinn snapped, waving her knife around.

“Family?”

“They’re still not getting it,” Ethan said, rolling his eyes. “My name isn’t Ethan Landry! Isn’t that right dad?” he looked towards Bailey. The three of them breaking out into a laugh.

“Dad?” Tara questioned, out of everything, that surprised her the most.

“It was easy to dupe the roommate lottery and get Chad.”

“It was just as easy finding your roommate ad,” Quinn added. “I mean who wouldn’t trust a girl whose daddy is a police detective.”

“Look, whatever you think I did, I didn’t!” Sam shouted, as if she was trying to reason with them. Tara was sure Sam was just processing all this new information though. “I don’t know what you read about me online but I’m not a murderer!”

“Yes! Yes, you are!” Quinn shouted, her movements quick as she stood before Tara and Sam, angling her knife down at them. “You killed our brother.”

“Your brother?” Tara questioned.

“You stupid girl,” Ethan groaned, glaring at her as if the fact that Tara couldn’t figure out their motive was the most irritating thing in the world.

“You’re Richie’s family,” Sam said, her eyes widening with the realization.

Bailey nodded, tears filling his eyes. “Yeah, and you took him from me.”

“He was psychotic,” Tara spat out, barely dodging the knife Quinn swung at her.

“He was incredibly passionate about the things he loved,” Bailey said. “And maybe I indulged him a little too much. But I helped him build all this,” he raised his hands at their surroundings.

“This was all his?” Sam asked.

“His legacy,” Bailey sighed, admiring the memorabilia that reminded him of his son, even though all the items belonged to serial killers or their victims. “Which is why you have to die here, surrounded by what he loved the most.”

“What even is your grand plan?” Sam held up her arms, confusion written all over her face.

“It’s not enough to just kill someone anymore,” Ethan said. “You have to assassinate their character.”

“It’s as simple as posting a few conspiracies on reddit,” Quinn smirked. “Re-writing the story.”

“That was you?” Sam couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice.

“It was too easy,” Quinn giggled. “The rest just fell right into place.”

“Those two film nerds even helped out,” Bailey said. “We had to kill you before them, so we kill them, make it look like Ghostface is back but don’t do anything after to get you to let your guard down.”

“Which you did,” Ethan said, pointing his knife at the girls.

“Then we go after what you care about most,” Bailey snarled.

Tara’s eyes widened, instantly filling with tears again. “Y/N,” she whispered.

Ethan broke out into a devilish grin. “I have to say, I’ve never had so much fun,” he said, giving a little jump of excitement.

“It was you?” Tara looked at Ethan, though her eyes were filled with tears a darkness lingered underneath, all her anger slowly bubbling back to the surface.

Ethan shrugged with a smirk. “I volunteered.” He fiddled with the knife, spinning it around with his fingers. “Nearly begged for it actually.”

“Why? What did she ever do to you? How did you even find out about us?”

“Because you’re not as smart as you think you are!” he shouted, shaking his head to regain some of his composure. “It was an accident at first, I was at the library late and caught the two of you leaving all cuddled up,” he wrinkled his nose at the memory. “You don’t get to be happy,” he shook his head. “You don’t get the girl when my brother is dead!” he gritted his teeth, staring at her with a wild look in his eye.

Tara clenched her jaw, glaring at Ethan. Tara and Sam ended up standing back-to-back as Bailey, Quinn, and Ethan began to circle them. Sam kept her eyes locked with Bailey’s while Tara’s sole focus was on Ethan. Quinn stood in the middle, smiling from ear to ear, she’d occasionally swiped her knife, barely missing Tara, and Sam.

“You know, I was meant to give her the whole experience,” Ethan taunted. “The phone call, all of it,” he wiggled his knife. “You were on the phone with her. I was disappointed, thinking it would be too easy. She put a up a fight though.” He pointed his knife, as if he approved in your survival skills. “She still screamed like a little bitch when I beat her though,” he said with a maniacal laugh.

“Fuck you!” Tara screamed, making her move, she rushed forward, shoving him into one of the display cases, shattering the glass and sending the memorabilia to the floor.

Sam went for Bailey, grabbing his wrist as he fired three more shots. They struggled, pushing each other back and forth into display cases and mannequins.

Quinn gripped her knife, swinging wildly, getting a lucky shot and slicing Sam across the arm. Quinn went to stab Sam, aiming for her heart when Tara grabbed a brick randomly lying on the ground, swinging it right against Quinn’s jaw. Tara could swear she heard a crack, she didn’t stop to look at Quinn though, she grabbed her sister’s hand and took off, ducking through a door as Bailey began firing at them again.

“What’s the plan?” Sam asked, breathing heavy.

“We kill this fucking family once and for all,” Tara said, shooting a glare at Sam so her sister knew she meant it.

“Split them up,” Sam said, nodding along. “We’ll pick them off one by one.”

“Ethan’s mine,” Tara practically growled out.

“Find them!” they heard Bailey shout.

Tara and Sam quickly jumped behind the counter of the old snack bar, getting into position. The second the door they had come through swung open they pushed the popcorn machine over, sending it crashing into Ethan. Sam jumped over the side of the counter, grabbing the old glass gumball machine. As Ethan shook out the stale popcorn from his hair, slowly pulling himself to his feet, Sam used both hands to swing the gumball machine down onto his head, shattering the glass as it came into contact with his skull. Ethan crumbled to the floor knocked out cold.

Sam or Tara didn’t have time to finish him off before Bailey and Quinn were rushing through the door after hearing the commotion. Tara gave Sam one final nod before taking off down the hallway behind her while Sam ran down the other hallway in the opposite direction. Tara slammed her body into the walls as she took the turns to sharp, she glanced back to see Quinn following her. There was no sign of Bailey, meaning he most likely went after Sam.

Tara got to a staircase, taking the steps two at a time she made her way up to the second floor. She pushed through a set of double doors, stumbling out onto the balcony seating. Tara turned facing the door she had just come through, she watched the doors, ready for Quinn to come through them. She heard a slight creak to her side though, turning just in time to see a flash of silver, she dropped to the floor, rolling away.

Quinn had come up using the other stairs, on the opposite side of the balcony. Tara moved with caution, keeping her eyes on Quinn and the knife in her hand as she slowly backed away, stepping up the short set of stairs that led to the seats. Tara could see the blood dripping from Quinn’s mouth from when she smacked her with a brick, Tara couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Quinn gave her a toothy smile, showing that Tara had knocked out a couple teeth.

“You know I wanted to kill Y/N,” Quinn said with a bloody smile. “But dad thought Ethan could use the confidence boost.” She rolled her eyes “I might have had a bit more fun with her before her demise though,” Quinn wiggled her eyebrows.

Tara stood before Quinn, gritting her teeth, and snarling like a caged animal. Quinn swiped her knife back and forth, aiming for Tara’s stomach but Tara moved, dodging each swipe with ease. When Quinn swung her knife, bringing it back the other direction Tara reach down, gripping her wrist and then rushed forward. She pushed Quinn back until they both tumbled over the railing, crashing down onto another display case.

Quinn scrambled around, searching for the knife she dropped. When Quinn got ahold of her knife, she brought it up, ready to stab Tara. Tara grabbed a broken shard of glass, ignoring the way it ripped into her palm as she impaled it deep into the side of Quinn’s neck. Tara’s eyes held no emotion as she stared into Quinn’s wide eyes, her face falling slack. Quinn dropped her knife, bringing both hands to her neck. She tried to stand but quickly crumbled back to her knees, then collapsed the rest of the way onto her side, eyes lifeless and a shard of glass sticking out of her neck.

“No!” Bailey screamed, firing his gun at Tara but the clip was empty. Sam came out from the shadows, tackling Bailey back, crashing through the movie screen.

A door creaked and Tara crawled away from Quinn’s body, making sure not to be seen. She made her way over to the electric panel, being just out of sight but having a clear view of Ethan stumbling back into the theater, a large gash on his head from where Sam had hit him with the gumball machine. Ethan had his knife up, ready for a fight, but slowly brought his arm down as he saw his sisters body lying in a bloody mess.

“Tara!” Ethan screamed. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he spun around, looking everywhere. A phone rang cutting through the silence, making Ethan jump. He pulled out his phone, rolling his eyes when he saw the screen before he brought the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Ethan,” Tara said, using the Ghostface voice changer she had swiped from the broken display case.

“Cute trick,” Ethan said, kicking at some of the broken glass on the ground. “Too scared to fight me yourself?”

“Aww, don’t whine,” Tara taunted. “I thought you liked playing games. I just want to play a game with you.”

“You know the whole point of the Ghostface call is to scare the person, let them know there’s someone watching them, but not letting them know who it is or where they are.” Ethan spun around the middle of the room, waving his knife around. “I know who you are Tara,” he raised his hands in the air.

“But do you know where I am?” she asked then killed the lights, all except the, what would be emergency lights, around the perimeter of the room.

“Come on!” Ethan shouted, spinning around in circles.

Pulling out the knife she tucked in her jeans, Tara tightened her grip around the handle, quickly darting towards Ethan, shoving the knife into his side, underneath where the bullet proof vest she knew he was wearing ended. Ethan howled in pain, slashing his knife blindly but Tara had already disappeared, ducking, and weaving her way around the few display cases and mannequins that remained.

“You’re such a coward, hiding in the shadows,” Ethan said, putting pressure on his side with the hand that held the knife, while the other hand kept the phone near his ear. “What will your girlfriend think?”

“A coward?” Tara repeated. “Like dressing up in a costume, making scary phone calls, hiding every part of yourself from your victim?”

“Come out and face me you bitch!”

“With pleasure,” Tara said, the Ghostface voice not coming from the phone anymore but right beside Ethan. He turned to stab her, but she ducked, driving the knife into the opposite side she had before.

Ethan hissed in pain, gritting his teeth, his grip slowly loosening on the knife until it clattered to the floor. Tara walked around to finally stand face to face with him. Ethan held both arms to his sides, trying to put pressure on both wounds. “Aww, not enjoying the game?” she asked, holding the voice changer up to her mouth. Ethan stumbled forward, reaching out for her with a bloody hand but she easily side stepped him. She dropped the voice changer as she walked closer, digging her thumb into his wound, making him open his mouth wide as he screamed in pain.

“Who’s the one choking on their blood now?” Tara said as she brought the knife down into Ethan’s mouth, giving it a final twist before ripping it out.

He coughed up blood, spraying it across her face, she didn’t care about that though. As Ethan stepped back, stumbling to the floor, Tara followed. She tilted her head, watching him like the prey he was. She got down on her knees, straddling him, so she had a better position as she lifted him up by his cloak. She watched as tears filled with the realization as to what was about to happen. Tara tilted her head to the other side, watching as he struggled, gasping for breath, only for his throat to be filled with blood.

She spun the knife in her hand before getting a firm grip again. A darkness took over her eyes as she stared down at Ethan, before shoving the knife through one cheek and out the other. His body jolted against hers, she had to put her free hand on his shoulder, keeping him pinned to the floor, as the tears finally started falling from his eyes. She just as quickly ripped the knife back out, smirking down at him as he gurgled on the blood, just like he had said you were going to do. She watched as he cried, dying in the same way his brother had, the brother he had been so adamant about getting revenge for.

She looked to the side when she heard some commotion. Detective Bailey had stumbled back into the room, he gripped his shoulder, as he spun around with his gun in his injured arm, waving it around all directions. A few seconds later Sam pushed through the curtain, approaching him slowly, with an unreadable expression. Bailey aimed his gun, pulling the trigger multiple times, but the clip was still empty. Sam walked up to him, swinging her knife and slashing Bailey’s hand, causing him to drop the gun.

“You’ll never get away with this!” Bailey shouted.

Sam tilted her head, she glanced towards Tara. If Sam was surprised by the position Tara was in, she certainly didn’t show it. She glanced down at Ethan underneath Tara, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips.

“I think we already have,” Sam said. Bailey turned, seeing Ethan bleeding out on the floor with Tara on top of him. Two of his children were dead, one was dying, and he was about to die himself.

Bailey stepped forward, as if he was going to come for Ethan, as if he thought he could actually help his son. Sam stalked up behind Bailey, wrapping her arm around the front of him and lightly dragging the knife across his throat. It wasn’t deep enough to kill him instantly. He reached for his throat with his bleeding hand Sam hand sliced. Blood slowly started to gush through his fingers, running down his arm. He turned, looking back to Sam in shock. He stumbled past her, and she looked on, flipping the knife around in her hand, as if she was a cat playing with a toy. Sam gave Tara one last look before she followed after Bailey, impaling the knife in the side of his back, watching him crumble to the floor.

Tara let out a small sigh before turning her attention back to Ethan. “First your brother,” she said with a light smirk. “Then your sister and now your dad.” She shook her head, clicking her tongue. “Don’t worry,” she said with sweet smile, “you’ll be reunited with them soon.”

Tara used the tip of the knife to tap Ethan’s chin, making him tilt his head back. She ran the knife down his neck, making sure to only graze him and not break the skin, yet. She dragged the knife down until she got to the cloak. Then she dragged the knife over the cloak and down his chest. She could feel the bullet proof vest underneath his cloak. She tapped the knife against his chest, right underneath where the vest stopped.

Ethan coughed, spitting up more blood. Tara grabbed Ethan by the hair, yanking his head up hard. She inched the knife up higher, so it was now above the bullet proof vest, she pushed it down, knowing it was piercing his skin when he gritted his teeth. Tears fell from his eyes, he tried to look at her with hatred as he gritted his teeth, pretending to be strong. He couldn’t mask the pain though, as the knife dug deeper into his chest he winced, blood dribbling out of his mouth.

“How’s it feel,” she whispered, leaning closer so she was staring into his eyes, “being so helpless?” her eyes raked over his body in disgust. “Knowing no one is coming to save you?”

She let go of Ethan’s hair with an aggressive fling, letting it drop back to the ground with a hard thud. Ethan coughed, his whole body shaking with the struggle. His head flopped to the side, looking in the direction Bailey and Sam had been. Tara didn’t look, she knew Sam had it handled and based on the sob that racked through Ethan’s body she could make an educated guess as to how their fight turned out.

She tilted her head with an almost bored expression. After giving an Ethan a second to see his dead father she rolled her eyes, removing the knife she had been pressing into his chest. A hiss broke out through another sob. He turned back to Tara, looking up at her with his broken expression. She tilted her head to the other side. She wondered if this is how you looked up at him as he chased you around your house, as he tried to kill you, as he took a baseball bat to your ribs. Tara clenched her jaw, tilting her head down as she gripped the knife tighter despite the blood coating the handle making it slippery.

Tara gently ran the knife from Ethan’s chest back up to his neck before stopping. She gave the knife a few light taps on his neck before slowly sinking it in. Ethan’s eyes widened, his head jerked forward as he gasped for breath, only managing to gurgle up more blood. Tara tightened her grip on Ethan’s cloak, pushing down harder on his shoulder as he struggled against her. His arms flailed, one of them weakly coming up to grab at her arm but she just shrugs him off. When the knife was fully in Ethan’s neck he opened and closed his mouth a few times, the blood pooling in the back of his mouth before the struggle finally ended. His arm loosely fell back to the ground, his mouth left open, blood still trickling out of it, and his eyes wide open as Tara watched the light finally leave them.

Tara ripped the knife back out of Ethan’s neck, pushing her hand off his lifeless body to stand back up on her own two feet. She stood over him, looking down at her work, she didn’t necessarily feel happy, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t satisfied at having got her vengeance for you. Ethan had hurt you; he had attacked you; he had almost killed you. Tara had no mercy for him or the rest of his family. They deserved everything that had happened. Ethan deserved it. He would never hurt you again, Tara made sure of that.

Tara stepped over Ethan’s body, looking over to her sister who was in a similar position, standing over Bailey’s body. Tara looked down, the knife and her hand both coated in blood. She dropped the knife, letting it fall to the floor with a small clang and made her way to her sister. She stood behind Sam, looking past her to see Bailey dead, a knife sticking out of his eye. Sam turned to face Tara, they stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before giving each other an approving nod.

“You, okay?” Sam asked softly, her tone not matching what the both of them had just gone through.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Tara said tiredly with a humorless chuckle.

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

As soon as they got back to the hospital Tara made her way to your room. After the fight, Chad and Mindy broke down the door, pouring in with a team of cops. Tara and Sam had been taken out of the theater, immediately being given medical treatment, both ended up needing stitches, Tara for her hand and Sam for her arm. They watched as the medics carried Gale out on a backboard, she had a pulse, but they were rushing her to surgery. While Tara was going to see you, Sam was going to be at Gale’s bedside, waiting for her to wake up.

Tara made her way through the hospital; she had run into Anika at a vending machine while she was getting a bag of chips for you. Tara sent Anika back down to the lobby to be with Mindy, telling her she’d bring you the chips. Anika had handed her the chips, mumbling a, good luck, before making her way to the elevator. Tara sighed once she was outside your room, rubbing her hands on her pants. She had made sure to clean up before coming back to the hospital, but she could still feel Ethan’s blood soaking into her hands.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before pushing down on the handle, opening the door to your hospital room. Tara’s eyes flicked up, her mouth open, an apology at the ready when she froze. You were out of bed. You were standing right beside the hospital bed with one hand lightly grazing the edge for balance. But you were out of bed. You were standing. Tara couldn’t be happy at seeing you standing on your own feet again because her eyes were too busy raking over your body.

You were in the process of putting on a shirt, you had your arm with a cast and your head in but were clearly struggling with the other arm. Tara’s eyes stopped, focusing on your stomach and your ribs. For once she wasn’t checking you out, she couldn’t take her eyes off the bruising. Both sides of your ribs and your stomach were painted black and blue. Tara brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears, she had seen the baseball bat on the floor, she knew you had broken ribs, but she never imagined what lay under the hospital gown.

She must have let out a gasp or a sob, she wasn’t sure, but she did something that drew your attention. Your head quickly snapped to her. You clenched and unclenched your jaw, your eyes flicking from her face to the floor, you were mad at her. Tara knew you would be mad at her when she left, she knew you’d worry, she deserved your anger, but she didn’t regret her choice because it meant avenging you, it meant you were safe, and more importantly it meant making sure the person who did that to you would never do it again.

“Would you mind?” You asked softly, clenching your jaw, and looking at the floor as if you hated having to ask for her help.

Tara nodded quickly walking over to your side, tossing the bag of chips onto the table next to the bed. When she stood next to you, she got a better look at the injuries, some of the bruising was more purple and a dark red, wrapping around ribs towards your back. The front part of your body was a darker purple, dark shades of blue, looking almost black. Where the bruising ended, she could see the faintest impression of the bat. Her hand reached up, subconsciously wanting to touch the injury, wanting to hold and bring you comfort. She didn’t though, she kept her hand moving until it reached up, grabbing your shirt. She lifted your shirt, allowing you to maneuver, not without wincing, and get your other arm through the sleeve. Tara helped pull your shirt down, making sure not to touch the bruising that was now covered.

You gripped the sheet of the bed tighter, your eyes pinched shut as you let out slow breaths, wincing with each one. Tara held her hands up, ready to catch you if you started to fall but making sure not to touch you. She couldn’t take her eyes off your abdomen, now knowing what lied underneath your shirt. Out of the corner of her eye she saw you loosen your grip on the blanket, your body stretching as you stood taller. You slowly let go of the bed all together, making sure not to move to far from it, as you turned to fully face Tara. You didn’t say anything, Tara could feel your gaze burning into her until she slowly lifted her eyes to meet yours.

“I’m mad at you,” you whispered.

“I know,” she whispered back.

“Do you have any idea,” your voice cracked, your eyes filling with tears. “Any idea how worried I was?”

Tara nodded, a few of her own tears starting to fall. “I’m sorry,” it was her turn for her voice to crack. “I needed to make sure they’d never come after you again.”

“You could have gotten hurt. You could have gotten killed,” your voice went higher, making you quickly wince in pain.

“I know.” Tara looked into your eyes, seeing all the worry and love you held for her. She watched as your eyes scanned up and down her body, darting all around her face for any potential injuries. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled.

Y/N reached down, taking Tara’s bandaged hand into her own. “You did get hurt,” you whispered.

“Technically I did this one to myself,” Tara said with small smile, trying to lighten the mood, it didn’t work.

You continued to hold her hand, gently running her fingers over the bandage. Considering how her last Ghostface encounter went Tara would argue she came out above everyone this time. Sam got a slash on her arm from Quinn that she needed stiches for but that was it. Tara on the other hand only got a gash on her hand because she grabbed onto a piece of broken glass to kill Quinn with. If Tara had just used the knife she had, she wouldn’t have had any injuries, but in the moment, she was feeling quite theatrical, and the shard of glass just felt more dramatic.

You reached up, gently turning her head to the side to brush some hair behind her ear. “Are you okay?” you asked. She nodded, wiping at her eyes and nose. “Don’t ever do that again, okay?” You stared her down, until she nodded. “Not without me,” you whispered.

Tara let out a shaky breath, nodding again. “You weren’t exactly in a position to come with me,” she tried to joke, letting out a chuckle that turned into more of a sob.

She heard you let out a small laugh then a louder groan. “I told you, no laughing.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again through more laughter.

“Did you get them?” you asked, your voice getting quieter, almost hesitant.

“Yes,” she said seriously, making sure there was no questioning, that she knew for sure they were dead. “We got them all.”

“Who?” you whispered, if Tara wasn’t standing right next to you, she would have missed it.

“Detective Bailey, Quinn-”

“Shit,” you breathed out, cutting her off.

“And Ethan.”

Your eyes widened at that, first in shock, then scrunching up in confusion. “Ethan? Why?”

Tara ran a hand through her hair, letting out a long breath. “Apparently Ethan is Bailey’s son and Quinn’s brother.”

“Holy shit.”

“That’s not all.” Your eyes widened at that. “They were Richie’s family.” Tara dropped her gaze to the floor, ashamed that you really were attacked for knowing her. Tara and Sam killed Richie and Amber and then Richie’s family came after them as revenge. It was all Tara’s fault, if it wasn’t for her, you never would have been attacked.

“Hey,” you said softly, tilting her chin back up to make her look in your eyes again. “Come here.”

Tara wanted nothing more than to come closer to you, to hug you and never let you go but she didn’t. She stayed where she was, she didn’t want to hurt you. She didn’t want to cause you any more pain than she already had.

“Please come here,” you said again. “You can hug me, I want you to hug me, you just need to be gentle.” You looked at her with those puppy dog eyes that always made her cave. “Please, I could really use a hug.”

Tara slowly inched forward. She knew you really wanted to hug her, to comfort her. She knew that you were only saying you needed the hug because you knew she could never turn you down if you asked, saying you needed it, even if she knew it was a lie. That’s why Tara caved, making her way closer to you until she was standing close enough for you to wrap an arm around her. She stood still, letting her arms rest at her side as you wrapped your injured arm around her neck as well.

“A hug is meant to be a two-way thing,” you mumbled.

She slowly lifted her arms, bringing them around you, trying to make sure they were positioned high enough, so she didn’t hit any of your injuries. She felt you tense up and suck in a breath, it made her freeze. She was about to pull away, clearly giving you a hug was a bad idea, your ribs were all kind of messed up, you could barely put on a t-shirt, the last thing you needed was someone hugging you. Before she could pull away though you relaxed into her, your shoulders sagging with relief. The hug was a little awkward since Tara couldn’t press herself against you, she made sure her body wasn’t actually touching yours, keeping a couple inches between the two of you in case someone shifted slightly, she didn’t want any accidental touching, she didn’t want you in any more pain. Despite the awkwardness, Tara had to admit it felt nice. It was exactly what she needed.

You didn’t seem content with the distance though because you pulled her closer, burying her head in your shoulder. You let out a hiss as her body brushed against yours, but you quickly melted into her embrace again. Tara finally gave in, burrowing her head further into you as she clung to your shirt, afraid that if she stepped away, you’d disappear.

Tara wasn’t sure where it came from, but she let out a sob. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed into your shoulder, staining your freshly clean shirt with tears. You shushed her, starting to run your fingers through her hair. “I thought I lost you,” she rasped out.

“I’m here,” you whispered into her hair, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I’m right here. I’m okay.”

“I love you.” Tara gripped you tighter, inching her feet so they were touching yours. She was pushing herself as close to you as she could get without putting more pressure on your wounds. You made a mistake in asking for a hug from her because now she was never going to let you go.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @fanboy7794 @noooodlessstuff @tatumrileyslover @alexkolax @canvascoloredin

[gay-dorito-dust]

can I request jealous Wednesday x fem reader? Wednesday gets jealous of Xavier and the reader so she's more passive aggressive than usual and has the urge to pull pranks on Xavier. But when Wednesday sees reader and Xavier painting the reader chases after her

Summary: Wednesday is reluctant to accept that she’s jealous of your friendship with Xavier until it all comes ahead.

A/n: Also due to the fact of how fucking long I made this fic, I had to relegate pranks (plural) to a singular prank. I rambled a little bit ngl.

Wednesday hated the gut feeling she’d get whenever she saw you and Xavier within extreme close proximity of one another; As though you were trying to fuse into one being with how pressed against one another you were. It felt like she had a stone stuck in her stomach that refused to dissolve and was starting to cause external as well as internal issues the longer it went unresolved. Normally Wednesday viewed herself above expressing emotions should they not provide beneficial results to her in the long run for the remainder of her stay at Nevermore, or everyday life in general.

However it seemed to Wednesday that you were the peculiar exception to this golden rule she had lived by since the passing of her pet scorpion. She felt fluttery in her chest whenever you laughed, her clothed skin burned with the remnants of your accidental touches and she felt most anticipating when she made plans with you after classes. You’ve managed to brought fourth emotions Wednesday long thought she had killed in order of bettering herself whether you were aware of your effect or not.

She hated it, she hated not being in control of her emotions and by that logic, Wednesday should hate you for being the reason for her lack of self control but she didn’t. Instead she directed all her hatred towards Xavier to the point that castration was a considered punishment but knowing how Nevermore operates; Wednesday knew that short of thing would’ve be allowed to fly without repercussions. ‘A pity really,’ she thought to herself as she maintained eye contact with the back of Xavier’s head as he playfully nudged you with his shoulder, ‘a shame even.’

Enid wished she could see the inner workings of Wednesday’s head but with how brutally she was stabbing the lunch table with her blunt knife, she quickly changed her mind in fear of that knife being directed at her next. “Wednesday, remember what we talked about when we get urge to stab something.” Enid spoke hesitantly as she tried to safely remove the knife away from Wednesday’s hand. When it was brought down harder then the previous times, blade lodged deeply within the table that once Wednesday lets go of the handle, the knife however remained standing straight up. Her eyes never departing from you nor Xavier as they blazed with silent fury. “Keep stabbing until it stops moving.” She replied blankly before standing up.

“Hey! Wednesday! Where are you going-“ Enid tried calling out to her friend when her words got caught up in her throat when her eyes followed the direction she was heading; You and Xavier. “Oh no.” Enid whispered as she rushed after Wednesday in hope of preventing someone’s (read: Xavier’s) death. “I do not want to be caught in the midst of a murder today, I just got these clothes recently and blood would not go well with them.” She rambled under her breath as nervousness got the better of her when she finally managed to catch up with Wednesday who was looking straight at you.

“Y/n.”

“Oh shit.” you almost jumped out of your chair at the sudden voice beside you had Xavier not caught you by the shoulders to stabilise you. Giving the boy your thanks you looked to your side of the table to see Wednesday and Enid standing there. “Hey Wednesday! Hey Enid, what’s up? Me and Xavier here were just-“ “I need you to come over to my-“ “our” Enid interrupted, flashing a smile when Wednesday looked at her with almost murderous intent before bringing her attention back to you. “Our dorm,” she shot enid a glare, “to look over some studies that were assigned to us last period.”

“We did?” You questioned as you, Xavier and Enid share a look of confusion as all four of you had last period together and to your recollection, there was no tasked assignment. So either you had shit memory or something else was at hand here that you were oblivious towards. Xavier shrugged his shoulders, “beats me and I tend to pay attention in my classes.” You shoved him by the shoulder as you laughed, “you fucking liar, no you don’t you always end up copying my notes or worse!” Xavier chuckled, extending his hand to pat your sympathetically on the shoulder.

“I make it up to you don’t I?” He asked innocently, making you scoff as you swat away his hand. before bringing his attention to Wednesday who by now has her jaw so tightly clenched behind a deadpan face that she swore she felt some teeth crack under the pressure she was putting them under. “Are you sure we got an assessment Wednesday? Me and y/n here have made plans to go beyond and explore the realms of possibilities of which through art later tonight.” Xavier iterated the last part in a tone he knew would get to you, in the end you couldn’t help but snort as you smacked his shoulder. “Stop talking like that, I’ll think I’ll piss myself.” You croaked through your laughter as you leant against Xavier for support.

“Too much information y/n,” Xavier grimaced but he sucked at keeping it up as his lips cracked into a bigger smile, “just too much information.” Whilst you both were distracted with your laughter, Enid could see that Wednesday was gesturing for something lurking under your table with her head and when she went to angled herself better to see what it was and to her surprise; Thing could be seen unlacing Xavier’s shoelaces before tying them back together again in a fashion that would have him take a personal greeting with the floor before scampering off back to where he came.

Now Enid never pegged Wednesday as the prankster type, considering the fact that she had told her time and time again that she was above such childish shenanigans. Yet here she was, having Thing pull pranks on her behalf all because she was jealous. “You’re right,” Wednesday uncharacteristically admitted, “must’ve got my dates incorrect, how foolish of me.” She then shrugs but before she leaves your table; Wednesday looked back over her shoulder, “Xavier.” She said. “Yeah?” He replied, albeit confused. “Watch your step.” Was all she said before walking away, leaving Enid to hastily bid you both goodbye as she rushed to catching up to her before mouthing something neither of you could decipher.

“What did she meant by that?” Xavier asked as he looked at you, watching the back of Wednesday’s head as she faded from view. “No idea but hearing that come from her? It’s probably not a good thing.” You admitted, sensing that something was off with Wednesday but you knew better then to openly confront a hostile animal. She wouldn’t budge an inch. So you decided that it would be best to let her work through whatever it was that she was going through in her own time. “Well that’s real reassuring.” Xavier said glumly before slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“We better get going before we’re late to herbology class.” He adds as he goes to stand up but as he attempts to move out from his seat; Xavier notices a little too late that his shoes were mysteriously tied together, causing him to trip over himself and fall flat on the floor with a yelp. “Oh my god, Xavier are you alright!” You exclaimed as you scrambled to help him up off of the floor, dusting him down of any dirt that might’ve lingered. “I understood what she meant by that now.” Xavier grimaced in pain. You both ended up being late for class by a couple of minutes due to Xavier stopping to unlace his shoes and tying them back up properly before practically sprinting across Nevermore towards your next lesson.

The next time Wednesday walked in on you and Xavier bonding, it wasn’t until nightfall that she came across the sound of laughter filling the air, growing louder and louder the closer she got to the abandoned shed Xavier had tricked out into an art studio. Her blood still boiled with how at ease Xavier seemed whenever he got physical with you and how you never seem to bask in his affection. She despised her Achilles heel which was you and the illogical thoughts you brought up within her head, causing her to loose rational train of thought and sleep as she now wandered the school grounds late at night in hopes for sleep to greet her. However Wednesday found herself stood outside the shed where she could hear yours and Xavier’s conversation loud and clear.

“You messy pup! Your getting paint on everything except the canvas!” Xavier exclaimed though it was in good nature considering how quick he was to laugh. “We’ll maybe if I had more to go on then the bullshit excuse of ‘painting with my heart.’ Then I wouldn’t be such a messy pup then would I?” You replied, reduced to a laughing fit of your own. It was obvious to Wednesday that you were both having fun, so much fun in fact that she believed that she was the last thing on your mind. You rarely visited her and Enid in their dorm anymore, too busy having Xavier occupying your time. Seemingly possessed by the betrayal she was feeling in that moment, Wednesday forcefully opened the door in time to see Xavier stand a breaths width away from you, holding your face in his hands as his thumb rubs away at some remnants of paint.

His gaze seemed a little too intense for Wednesday’s liking as she took into account of the way he looked at you that same exact way she caught herself looking at you; as though you’ve painted the night sky of which you hung the stars from. Your eyes darted to hers as they widened at the realisation of how this looked to other people but before you could open your mouth to say anything. Wednesday had already slammed the door shut behind her as she left. Xavier knew there was something between you and Wednesday and he wanted to help you in expressing your feelings in a way that didn’t suffocate Wednesday. However it seemed that she might’ve misunderstood this as him making a move on you which couldn’t be further from the truth. “Go after her.” Xavier said, stepping away from you.

“She won’t believe me-“ “well then try to make her believe you.” Xavier stopped you before you could admit defeat. “You like this girl don’t you?” He asked, “of course I do Xavier, I like her very, very much.” You admitted, feeling the tears of frustration well up in the corner of your eyes. Xavier smiled softly as he cross the room to open the door, “Then go get her, tiger.” He urges as he gestured towards the silhouette of Wednesday that was slowly fading away from view the further and further away she got. You smiled at Xander, “thank you.” You said to him before bolting out of the art studio and after Wednesday as fast as your legs could carry you.

“You got this!” You heard Xavier exclaim from behind which only pushed you even further forward as you darted past trees, bushes, the archery range until you could vaguely make out Wednesday making her way to the front of the building that lead up to her dorm in Ophelia Hall. “Wednesday!” You called, uncaring of who you woke up in the process, the only thing that mattered to you was setting things straight. “Wednesday wait, I need to talk to you!” You saw Wednesday stop at the doors and you almost felt like collapsing when you finally caught up to her, leaving heavily on the door as you struggled to filling your lungs with the sufficient amount of oxygen.

“What do you want.” Wednesday snapped. She hadn’t meant to stop but something within her told her that she’d be better off hearing you out. “I’m going to cut the bullshit and get to the point,” you said through gasps, coughing briefly before taking a deep breath, “I like you Wednesday Addams. I like you a lot, I’ve been meaning to find ways of telling you how I feel that wouldn’t overwhelm you or make you uncomfortable. So I’ve taken to asking Xavier for advice because he’s and artist and shit as you know.” Wednesday felt a familiar fluttering in her chest as you continued to explain yourself when all she really cared enough to hear was that you liked her and only did what you did as to not force her out of her comfort zone for you.

So instead of letting you continue your long winded explanation, Wednesday merely grabbed ahold of your shirt, pulling you into her lips as she gave you a chaste kiss before shoving you away slightly. Your wide eyed expression had a smile creep up on Wednesday’s face as she quickly composed herself. “I like you too,” she headed you silently cheer to yourself, “however you can start repaying me for sacrificing our time together by joining me on the astrology tower tomorrow night.” Your eyes widened and your smile stretched across your face. “Like a date, a date date?” Wednesday couldn’t help but scoff at your choice of words before replying, “yes, like a date date.”

[slut4bill]

All For You - B.Kaulitz

𝜗𝜚 - bill kaulitz x fem!reader

𝜗𝜚 - horror

𝜗𝜚 - mentions of blood, murder, just gore in general

ღ - a/n: decided to try my hand at writing horror while I work on some smut fics...

"Baby" he cooed in your ear, putting on his sweet innocent facade as if he hadn't just brutally murdered your best friend right in front of your eyes. You felt sick to your stomach looking at the bloody scene in front of you, almost gagging when you saw what looked like a chunk of brain next to what used to be a head.

It wasn't always like this of course. When you first met him, he seemed like a sweet, decent guy, much different from the losers you were used to going out with, those men always used to getting praise for doing the bare minimum. Bill, however, would buy you gifts and shower you with love and affection, and in your eyes, he was the best boyfriend you had ever had. Perfect even. But of course, like all good things it had to come to an end, this whole 'perfect boyfriend' act becoming too good to be true. It started slow, as you noticed the way he started to become more protective of you but that was only natural right? He was just being a good boyfriend and it seemed like a sweet gesture. But then he started to get weirdly clingy, never leaving your side, always begging to spend every moment of every day with you which was a bit odd but hey you can't exactly say you hated the attention. Next came the small bit of obsession, it seemed normal at first just a few small mumbled I need yous or a random moment where he accidently blurted out something you swore you had never told him. And then came the killings, almost like a real life scream movie except the murders were never random, always someone you knew, someone you had just talked to the day before you saw their disfigured bloody body on the news. You were terrified when your boyfriend, the guy you loved so much, the guy who you swore would never hurt a fly, came crawling in through your bedroom window covered in blood with a toothy grin on his face as if he had just accomplished the greatest thing in the world. You were frozen in fear, eyes wide open as you tried to wrap your head around the sight in front of you. He trapped you in a warm embrace kissing all over your face assuring you that everything was fine and trying to convince you that all the people he killed had a reason to die.

Bullshit

You were shaken out of your thoughts by the feeling of lips pressing against your neck and the warmth of a pair of arms tightening around your waist. The only sounds filling the atmosphere were the soft clicks of Bills lips leaving your neck with a small 'tch' sound, not seeming to be stopping anytime soon. "Did you like my surprise?" he asked in a hushed tone breaking the silence. What? "What?" I ask more rhetorically than literally as tears brimmed at my waterline threatening to spill at any second. "Did you like my surprise?" he repeats again emphasizing every word this time. "I did this all for you baby, for us" he whispered in my ear as he continued trailing soft kisses down my neck. "Did I like it?" I laughed, "Did I fucking like it are you fucking insane you psycho piece of shit??" I yell as my voice shakes in anger, fear and shock. He looked down at me with a small hint of hurt in his eyes. "Don't yell love I was doing something nice for us" he frowns as if you getting upset about this was unnatural. you look up at him in disbelief. How is he failing to see what exactly is wrong about this? "How is this nice Bill you killed my best friend what is wrong with you-" you cut yourself off as your voice began to crack signaling that you were about to start crying. You sob looking at the lifeless being on the bathroom floor, the tiles already smeared with blood. "My best friend- h-how could you Bill" you asked in a hoarse voice, body still shaking from the breakdown you were having. He just hugged you tighter against his chest leaning down to kiss your cheek. We both stood in silence for a moment before he spoke up again. "She was trying to take you away from me I couldn't have that love you have to understand" he explained trying to reason with you. You were speechless and scared. More scared of your own feelings than the gruesome scene that had just unfolded in front of your eyes. Scared because despite everything he's done, what he just did, a part of you still loved him. And you couldn't bring yourself to push him away. "Let's go get you cleaned up, yeah baby?" he says referring to the small splatters of blood on your face and clothes sure to leave a stain later. You just nod still in shock and not able to properly speak as your mind tries to process everything that just happened. "Arms up" he hums as he lifts your shirt up over your head tossing it on the bloodied ground somewhere. He unclips your bra tossing it near the shirt and bends down to do the same with your jeans and underwear. He helps you step over the body and turns on the shower waiting for the water to heat up. Once it started to get warm, he carefully helped you in the bathtub squirting some shampoo in his hand and lathering it on your head, making sure not to get any in your eyes.

"I love you baby, I always will" he hummed in an affectionate voice, looking at you with nothing but genuine love in his eyes.

and you loved him too.

You were trapped in a living nightmare.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

V Secret Identities

Dick Grayson V Gotham - Chapter 3

“So, what do you have so far on the Red Hood case?” Dick asked Bruce, trailing behind him on the way down to the Batcave. He felt better, looser, after their fight. Maybe they could fit in a spar before breakfast? 

“Not much.” Bruce’s voice sunk into Batman’s gravelly voice . It was a code-switching thing, he suspected; just being in the Batcave puts Bruce in Batman’s headspace. It happened to a lesser degree when he and Jason were Robin, but once Tim took on the cape, Bruce and Batman became as different as night and day. 

Batman continued, “He’s a ghost in Gotham’s underground. No one knows who he is, or where he goes. Three weeks ago, he started targeting the drug dealers in Crime Alley, forcing them to work for him or die.” He tapped a few keys on the Batcomputer and brought up Red Hood’s file. “Needless to say, he’s developing his own gang at a rapid pace.”

“Red Hood, huh?” Dick studied the only picture Tim had managed to nab of the man. He looked tall, with broad shoulders covered in body armor similar to Batman’s. All features were covered by a matte red helmet. “That’s one of Joker’s old aliases. Any connection?”

“Not one that’s readily apparent. He chose the name for a reason , but until we interrogate him, there’s nothing that indicates a connection.”

Dick flipped through the file, landing on a report detailing the execution of multiple mafia lieutenants. “Nothing he’s been doing really connects with the Joker. Except for the killing.” The heads sent to the police was clearly a warning. Joker didn’t do warnings, not unless he was taunting them. “You said he’s building his own gang, right? Do you think he intends to take over Crime Alley ?”

“He’s certainly looking to put Black Mask out of business.” Batman switched to a video, an alley camera showing Red Hood beating several gangsters to death. “He's taking down the competition to establish his own control over the city's crime. His methods are brutal and lethal. He’s not just stopping criminals; he’s executing them. At the same time, he’s establishing rules in his own territory.”

“Rules?” Each gang had their own rules on how to operate, but in the end, their codes all sounded the same to Dick. 

“No selling drugs to kids. There’s more to it than that, but Hood’s morals are being enforced through violence and fear.”

“So, once Hood’s arrested, everything going to get worse because of a power vacuum. Great. At least this is a concrete difference between Hood and the Joker.” Dick didn’t know what he’d do if Red Hood was a Joker copycat. The name kept bugging Dick. Criminals liked to make names for themselves. It's a way to instill fear, to create an identity that stands out in the criminal underworld. But the Red Hood… it was one of Joker’s lesser known aliases. So why would someone else take up that mantle? Is it a way to mock the Joker, to reclaim the name from one of Gotham's most infamous villains? Or is it something more personal?

Dick asked again, “And we don’t know the connection between them?” 

Batman shook his head. “It could be a symbolic gesture, a way to reclaim the mantle from the Joker, or a means to instill fear. Or it might be something more personal that we’re not seeing yet.” He scowled. 

Turning back to the Batcomputer, Dick restarted the video. It was one of the few they had of the Red Hood. “What does Tim think?”

“Tim’s not on the case.” Dick immediately shot Bruce a glare. “Red Hood is a volatile unknown who has shown remarkable aggression towards Batman. As skilled as Robin is, I’ve asked him to step away from this case.”

“And he listened?”

A sigh. “No. I gave him a few unsolved murders to keep him entertained while we deal with this.”

Dick snorted. “Well, that’s not going to work for long. What’s the plan for when he solves them?”

“Sending him off to Titans Tower. But that’s only if we don’t catch Red Hood ourselves.”

The Teen Titans were good for Tim, especially after the disaster that ended Young Justice. Hopefully Tim wouldn't feel thrown away; maybe Dick should call him more regularly? His little brother needed him, he’d just lost his father , but Dick didn't want to make him feel smothered, Tim had complained about that in past- "There." Dick rewound the video a few frames, then let it play in slow motion. Red Hood redirected a punch to the face, smoothly twisted the arm around, and then threw his attacker over his shoulder, dislocating the man's shoulder in the process. "That's a League of Shadows move." A little further along and- "And that's a move that Lady Shiva created herself."

"His fighting style indicates he's had a wide variety of teachers, perhaps even more than me," Batman said as the Red Hood on screen pulled off a move Dick had only seen Talia Al Ghul perform before.

"Have you asked Talia about him?"

"...She hasn't been picking up my calls."

Joy. "He could be ex-League. That would explain all his weapons and tech. That helmet, it's not just for show. It's advanced, probably customized. Has anyone taken credit for designing his gear?"

"Oracle's keeping an eye on the dark web, but nothing so far. If he is League, nothing's going to show up, but-"

The clack of shoes on stone interrupted them. Alfred had descended the stairs from the manor and was staring at them both, unamused. "Pardon me for the interruption, gentlemen, but breakfast is served."

Dick immediately obeyed the unspoken demand and locked the Batcomputer. "Thanks, Alfie." He smiled, placing a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "But you really didn't have to come down here to get us. The intercom would have worked."

Alfred raised one thin eyebrow. "Unfortunately, that hasn't been the case since you lived here, Master Dick. Both Master Bruce and Master Tim have developed an unfortunate habit of ignoring the intercom in favor of work."

Bruce didn't even have the decency to look regretful.

With their accent into the manor, Dick spoke, "No talking about our night life around Danny, okay?"

Their eyes widened. "He doesn't know?" Bruce asked.

"He's only met Nightwing once, and he's a heavy sleeper. He hasn't found out yet and I want to keep it that way."

Alfred pursed his lips. "He'll be upset when he finds out."

"I'd rather he be upset than him putting on a costume and jumping out the window after me."

"You're worried he'll want to help you?"

Dick glared at Bruce's amused smile. “Yeah, yeah, I see the irony. The best revenge is raising a child just like you , I get it. But I’m already having enough difficulty keeping him away from my police cases, he’d only get worse if he knew I was a vigilante too.”

They got to the dining room before Tim and Danny, giving Dick just enough time to pull a booster seat out of storage. “When did we last use this?” The booster seat matched the dark wood of the family dining room table and chairs, with a cushion to match. 

Bruce looked between the booster and Dick. “Probably when you were eight.”

“I never needed to use a booster seat!” Dick immediately defended, trailing off as Tim and Danny entered the room, Danny holding Tim’s hand. Dick glared; this conversation was not over. 

The table was already set: Bruce at the head of the table, with two seats on the right, and one seat on the left. As Dick was about to ask Danny to sit beside him, Danny dragged Tim over to one of the seats on the right, grabbed his booster seat without a word, and claimed the chair next to Tim. “Danny? What are you doing?”

Danny scowled at Tim. “If I don’t make him eat, Tim’s not gonna eat. So, Tim’s gonna sit here until everyone else is done, and if he doesn’t eat, he can’t have ice cream with us today.”

“We’re taking Timmy to get ice cream with us?” Dick asked as he took his seat across from them.

Tim shrugged. “Apparently.”

“Yes, we are! And you better not have forgotten, you promised!”

“Okay, okay.” Dick laughed. At least Danny and Tim were getting along better than he and J–

Breakfast began with an awkward silence, broken only by the clinking of utensils. Bruce finally broke the ice. "So, Dick, how's work been at the precinct?"

Dick was about to respond when Danny, his eyes lighting up, jumped in. "We just solved a couple of murder cases! They were really tricky, but we figured them out."

Bruce's interest was piqued. "Oh? And how exactly were you involved in these cases, Danny?"

Danny shrugged nonchalantly. "I just helped out a bit. I'm good at noticing things."

With some prompting from Bruce, Danny launched into an enthusiastic explanation, detailing how he and Dick pieced together the clues. Dick sat back and let Danny talk. Danny’s medium abilities weren’t something he’d planned to talk about with his family despite Danny being open about their existence. It didn’t bother Dick that Danny was a meta, but it was like Danny had no hesitation in telling everyone. Kids got trafficked all the time in Bludhaven, especially meta kids like Danny. And Danny was running around telling people about his powers, conning them into paying him to speak to dead family or friends.

Dick was half-expecting to turn on the TV in the evening to learn that one of Danny’s past marks had blabbed and then everyone would know that Richard Grayson’s foster son was a meta. 

“-Honestly, the Hollydale Gang Murders is why I think those cases you were looking at are actually the work of a serial killer,” Danny was telling Tim, to Dick’s alarm. “The murder weapon keeps changing and the victims are unconnected, but there are too many similarities! They were all ambushed, all identifying features were damaged, all dumped in dumpsters–”

“Yeah, but all those things happen a lot with Gotham murders. You have to look for connections beyond that–”

Bruce held up a hand. “Wait, hold on. Tim, you told Danny about those murder cases?”

Tim shrunk in his chair. It seemed to dawn on him for the first time that Dick hadn’t told Danny about the vigilantism. “Yes? Was I not supposed to?”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Yes. No.” Another sigh. “What’s done is done. Danny, do you mind keeping this to yourself? Those murder cases you and Tim have been working on... I was the one who arranged for Tim to get them. I had to pull a lot of strings to make it happen.”

“Why?”

Bruce sighed. "Tim has a very particular set of skills and interests. Solving these cases is more than just a hobby for him—it's a way for him to channel his energy and make a difference. But it's also something that needs to be kept quiet. Not everyone would understand or approve."

Danny's eyes widened in realization. "So, you’re saying Tim wouldn’t be getting these cases without you?"

"Exactly. And I need you to stay quiet about it. If word got out, it could cause a lot of trouble, not just for Tim but for everyone involved."

Danny thought for a moment, a mischievous glint appearing in his eye. "I see. So, this is pretty important to you, huh?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow, sensing where this was going. "Yes, it is."

"Well," Danny said slowly, "keeping secrets can be tough. Might need a little incentive to make sure I don’t accidentally let something slip."

Bruce folded his arms. "What do you have in mind?"

"A hundred dollars should do it," Danny said, trying to keep a straight face but failing to hide a small grin.

“Danny…” Dick tried to scold, but Bruce patted his shoulder. 

Bruce stared at Danny for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. "Alright, chum. You've got a deal." He pulled out his wallet and handed Danny a crisp hundred-dollar bill. "Just remember, this isn't a game. Keeping this quiet is important."

Danny rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know . I’m not going to spoil all my fun.” Everyone flinched, but Danny was too busy stuffing away his ill-gotten gains to notice. “Tim’s my first friend who shares one of my hobbies; I don’t want to lose him just because it’s kinda illegal.”

Tim looked touched. “Thanks, Danny. I don’t want to lose you too.”

They finished breakfast with Dick smiling at Danny and Tim–he was so happy they were getting along that his chest ached. As Danny left to use the bathroom, Dick pulled Tim aside. 

“I already know,” Tim said, clearly expecting a lecture. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’d already told him about our identities. I’m sorry.”

Dick pulled his baby bird into a hug. “I’m not mad; I just wanted to check in with you.” He pulled away enough so he could look at Tim. The bags under his eyes had only gotten deeper since they last met, and his hair was greasy, like he’d skipped his last few showers. “How are you holding up?”

First Stephanie, then his father. Timmy was losing so much in such a short period of time. 

Tim didn't look him in the eye. "I'm fine," he replied, his voice hollow and distant.

“Timmy…”

“I’m fine , Dick.” Timmy pushed him away. He was shaking. “This is just… something I have to deal with. It doesn’t involve you.”

“It does involve me because I care about you!”

“Yeah, you cared so much that you adopted a kid without telling me.” Dick opened his mouth, but Tim wouldn’t let him speak. “Oh, sorry, you’re fostering a kid. My bad. There’s so much difference between the two.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tim closed his eyes. “I’m sorry too. I’m not… I shouldn’t be taking things out on you.” Dick reached out for another hug, only to be rebuffed. “I want to be alone right now.” Turning away, Tim disappeared down the hall, leaving Dick alone.

@starlightcat04 @maeashryver @widderwise @darkstarsapocalypse @sisma @luminanightfall @storm-fire98 @amyheart19 @collectingthegoods @redhoneysugarorange @lordfirecat2004 @screechingnoises @meira-3919 @dannyphannypack @satisfactionbroughtmeback @rowanaway-fromthisbs @i-always-say-yea @avelnfear @some-rotten-nest @ark12 @heirxofxtime @akikkobara @blep-23 @skulld3mort-1fan @markus209 @stargirl1331 @onlyhereforthechaos @inth3world @awkwardmaiden @fantasticbluebirdfan @currant-owo @alice-hazelwood @screamingtofillthevoid @crystalqueertea @gaelicholiday @gmkelz11 @mattybook1987-blog @bytheoldwillowtree @apointlessbox @chemical-pepis @ghostface3100 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @bathildaburp @boo-ghosties @bubblemixer @halfalix @lyra689 @dragon-dancer16 @lunadoll36 @mimilikey @hellomygay @frogs-are-pretty-awesom @overtherose @cyrwrites @your-emo-nightmare @lexdamo @roman4517 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @raginblastocyst @thegatorsgoose @fisticuffsatapplebees @olivethetreebitch @vixen-uchiha @ae-vixrose @joseph557 @kisatamao @gin2212 @thewondersoflebanon @d4ydr34min9 @malice-of-the-sunrise @tiblii @that-awkward-fae-nerd @aph-mable @dolfay @ghostreblogging @wackyattack @writer-extraordinaire @boo-ghosties @coruscateselene @emergentpanda-blog

[nimiana]

Orin the Red, importance of burial and bodily autonomy or lack thereof

Orin doesn't leave a body behind. Her remains are similar to her armor - a bloody mess that doesn't even resemble a person. It's not even marked as Orin. You want to cast speak with the dead on her? Too bad.

Mutilation of a corpse and lack of proper burial is one of the biggest fears that's been haunting humanity and, as I believe, further reinforces the overall theme of Orin's lack of personhood. Since I have a degree in classics and I'm slightly insane about the similarities between House of Atreus and Bhaalfamily, let's dig into the topic from the perspective of Greek texts.

Starting with the Iliad. Thorough the story, despite gory and very detailed description of each death, battles end with a truce allowing both sides to gather their dead and give them a proper burial:

VII 380-7, tr. R. Fagles.

Hector's dying wish is for his body to be return to his family:

which Achilles immediately refuses - thus breaking the custom:

Op. cit. XXII 398-417.

See Andromache's lament at the sight of Achilles' mutilating Hector's corpse:

Op. cit. XXII 597-605.

Her speech paints a grim picture of rot, pointing to physical destruction of Hector's body and contrasting it with care and love he should be treated with.

Achilles' actions finally bring down divine intervention as Apollo urges other gods to stop his madness:

Op. cit. XXIV 39-51.

Achilles is likened to a lion - his lack of respect for burial rites is inhuman. Compassion (ἔλεος) and respect (αἰδώς) are a meter of one's humanity. What to we get from it? One of earliest known literary works underlines that even in the midst of brutal war, act of proper burial is sacred, regardless of the enmity between men. Deliberate mutialtion of corpse and denial of one's burial is horrific and impious. To quote Emily Vermeule:

Moving on to classical times. Before we go to Antigone, let's make a short stop for the Oresteia cycle. Twice is mentioned that Klytemnestra not only murdered Agamemnon, but also mutilated his corpse:

Sophokles, Elektra, 439-447, tr. H. Kitto.

Aeschylus, Libation Bearers, 439-443,. tr. A. Brown

Verb μασχαλίζειν is used in both instances, and, as Francis Dunn points out, evidence suggests that it adapts ritualistic language more fit to animal sacrifice to describe disfiguration of a corpse with intention of either shame towards the deceased and their family. Again we see that the idea of mutilation of a corpse is seen as something extreme and wrong, that should stir the audience with anger.

Now, Antigone (and Seven Agains Thebes). The story of brothers killing each other, resulting in one of them being denied the right to burial. Without getting into the debate of whethere state can dictate laws and natural versus cultural orders of things, let's see how the issue of leaving corpse unburied is described.

Aeschylus, Seven Against Thebes, 1294-1311, tr. H. Bacon

Op. cit. 1324-37

Op. cit. 1368-74

Firstly, lack of burial is an extension of punishment and secondly, grieving one's nearest kin is an universal, basic feeling.

Sophokles, Antigone, 961-79, tr. R. Gibbons, C. Segal

Antigone's speech points out one more important thing: burial must be carried out by one's nearest kin (to which I will come back later). She (and her sister) are the last remaining members of their family and the responsibility falls on them.

The last example is, chronologically speaking, the youngest, but nonetheless striking. In one of his partially surviving comedies (yeah, comedies), The Shield, Menander describes in detail a gory afermath of a battle from the perspective of a survivor who lost his master in a turmoil. As a result, a family is bereaved of an heir and left without his body to bury.

Tr. S. Ireland.

The play itself was written and staged during the period the Wars of the Diadochi. Menander described a grim scene - mass grave, mutilated bodies, lack of proper, individual burial - which was a well known reality for his audience and a nightmare that haunt them. The story ends with the young master alive and returned to his family, giving the viewers a sense of closure they couldn't have in reality.

Leaving the fiction behind, public funerals and annually paid honors to the deceased were also important for shaping collective memory. Families of men killed in combat had a chance to cherish memories of them and, in case of young children, to learn about their fathers.

Ever since the Homeric epics, the theme of immortality gained through collective memory is prevelant. Memory is shaped during funerary rites and cult surrounding the burial site, for which physical remains are necessary. As Gregory Nagy concludes:

And, lastly, despite funrary games being public and serving the purpose of a state, funeral itself was a family business and duty (hence the disruptions in funerary practice in the house of Atreus served to show how badly the family was messed up).

What does it mean for Orin?

Orin cannot be buried. As a result, she cannot be properly mourned and remembered. She is bereaved of this incredibly basic, primal right that no one should be denied.

If she can't be remembered, did she even exist? Was she a person?

Well, the game is inclined towards taking it from her.

Helena and Orin - mother and daughter, sister and sister - are trapped in a cycle of abuse even in death. Orin preserves Helena's body in her chambers and calls herself Helena's daughter. Where Orin's remains are gored to nothing, Helena's remains are forever embalmed in a mockery of burial.

Neither Durge, nor Orin (nor Helena!), are allowed to have a sense of personhood apart from being their father's vessels.

As someone with a bad enough relationship with my father, I am ar marvel at how the writers managed to show how abused children still yearn for their parents. It's not their affection.

The last words Orin hears before she is turned into slayer are taking her personhood away.

Off with her family tree, off with love her felt for Sarevok and any trace of affection she had for Helena, any last remaining emotion she felt about herself.

No more Orin. The fact that no body remains of her - not Orin, but Orin's Gore Pile - is the only possible consequence.

You cannot mourn murder and there's no Orin to mourn. As we've seen from cited above classical sources, mourning one's family is not only one's responsibility, it is the most basic, primal human need. How can you remember someone without burying them, without performing funerary rites from them? Every familial bond is destroyed here, every rite crooked. No one here can move on with their grief. Before Orin was murder, she was Orin, but how can anyone remember her now, with no proof that she even existed?

The last thing I have on my mind is this quote from Jean Anouilh's Antigone (tr. L. Galantiere):

She was my sister.

[badsweetangel]

imagine an alternative universe where instead of them being the killers, the killers are us

(Creepypasta!Killer!Reader x Normal!Helen otis, Normal! x-virus and Normal!Toby)

Crazy (Creepypasta!Killer!Reader x Normal!Helen otis, Normal! Toby and Normal! x-virus)

Warnings: Reader has yandere vibes. Toxic relationships, with Cody the story is better because he is crazy lol

Normal! Helen Otis

Honestly, he was constantly terrified. He couldn't say no and reject you. He was completely trapped with you, he knew that the only destiny that would take him away from you was death and he was sure that if that happened you would manage to continue leaving the chaos. He preferred to be by your side.

One day he simply returned from his classes, trying to turn a deaf ear to the constant mockery of his classmates. And at nightfall things got worse and to this day he cursed the day he decided to arrive later at his house, because that's when he started it all. The same day you decided on his death and then you changed your mind unpredictably determining that he would be with you until you got bored of him. He walked feeling a presence behind him, his hands began to sweat and he understood that in his life everything could always get worse.

There you were, having already forgotten any hint of empathy you ever had, feeling miserable and mentally carrying murders that you could no longer count. Life no longer had any meaning for you and you were angry. Anger at your own life and at your own conditions that made you now stand behind a young boy who was soon going to die. Maybe that gave some kind of feeling of power. Power you needed to feel like your life wasn't just a loss of control. No, you had clearly chosen this. Without him being able to react, you hit him hard on the head, leaving him dazed. There you saw it, at that very moment you decided to leave it alive for a while.

He being conscious said all the things a victim would say to his attacker, that you would regret this and that he would call the police. Until he saw your appearance, in his head he knew that he was lost. Weren't you just an internet story made up by someone else? He was really lost. No one would ever believe him.

He knew he had to listen to you when you killed his friend Tom because you were jealous. And then you just continued, threatening to do much worse things if he didn't give in. Every day you became worse, you were no longer the person who sat on the side of the room and talked about how life had no meaning, you were completely crazy and your head no longer understood reasons.

Yes, he was cursing the day when he decided to arrive later at his house. However, he was slowly losing his sanity with you, enjoying your outbursts of anger and everything you did for him.

Normal! Toby

His family life was completely unstable and he himself was already going crazy. However, he was alone. Until one day you came to kill him, to end his suffering. He didn't want to do anything against it, since he already felt guilty enough to consider himself a problem.

Furthermore, he was insensitive to pain so your sadism did not cause him fear. You had entered his house, he who had just come out of a severe crisis simply stared at you, completely bored with his own life. Not that you cared, really. You only came here to do one thing and you both knew what it was. And you, being completely honest, left him alive because he didn't seem to suffer from your attacks. You were surprised, completely. You had clearly ignored his emotional distress, you simply asked him why he didn't seem to react, he replied. Without doing anything else.

Until they hear a voice. A man's voice. He was scared, he could see that fear.

“I hope he does feel some shit” You mocked him, walking out of his room.

Toby started, but something stopped him. His body simply did not respond, deep down he wanted that to happen. And he knew it. So he let you do it. That day you had brutally ended the life of his father. And he stayed there, listening to his screams. Emotionally numb, not knowing how to feel.

When you returned to his room you only thought about what to do with him.

“You're so fucking boring” You simply said.

He was used to that kind of comment so he just understood it. From that day on he followed you. He felt hate and love towards you. But he was addictive, he felt like you had somehow saved him from his misery. If you ever did something unforgivable, he just turned a deaf ear.

Normal! x-virus

He was not well, since they adopted him he learned things that give him a great advantage. From the moment you saw him you knew that he was different, different from other people. He captivated you instantly, you couldn't even think about blood at that moment. But you knew that the only way to get something on your terms was to simply go for it, enduring the tears and cries for help. So you decide to save that drama and simply leave the boy behind. Although his figure did not disappear from your mind, it was like an obsession, someone you couldn't let go. So you hid and began to observe the house where he lived, hoping that he would come out.

One day, you couldn't continue hiding your little hobby, because he had discovered you. When he started to approach you simply appeared, you waited for him. You weren't afraid of anything anymore.

“If you do anything to me it will go very badly for you” you threatened.

He just asked who you were.

His mind was completely unhinged, despite not being able to bring out those hidden impulses, so something about your appearance made him just keep you close.

Although he knew that you had complete control of the situation.

[velvetm00light]

Taken

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Two of Save Me

Previous Chapters: one

Word Count: 3.7k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You and your team at the BAU come to the disturbing realization that you're the final target of a brutal serial killer. Without any leads, your team determines you need to be the one to draw him out. As you sit alone in your apartment for hours, on edge, you can't help but want your coworker, Spencer, to be there with you. But, is your little crush enough to get you through the upcoming torture?

Warnings: Mentions guns, sexual assault, murder, serial killer, torture, stalking, physical harm, kidnapping, fear. In future parts, will mention vivid torture, PinV, oral, domxsub situations, grief, bondage, physical harm, etc.

A/N: I'm actually enjoying writing this soo much. I hope you all are enjoying reading it! I'm going to write the next chapter in both (y/n) POV and Spencer's POV, so I'll probably post both at the same time!

YOU CAN'T HELP BUT fidget in your seat at the round table as the rest of the team takes their seats and waits for Hotch's word to begin. You couldn't bring yourself to be in the same room as them as they discussed different ways for you to lure him out, unable to listen and play out those possible scenarios out in your head. Spencer at first fought against your wishes for him to discuss with the team, but all you could do was look into his sad eyes with yours and tell him, "I need someone who is going to fight for me. I trust that you will know when enough is enough." He stopped fighting then and did as you requested.

He was the first to arrive back at the round table, immediately taking the seat next to yours, not even hesitating to give you his hand. You took it greedily, needing any kind of human contact to keep your mind grounded, bonus points because it was him.

"Let's get started." Hotch announced, and you noticed that no one would meet your gaze directly as your eyes wandered to your friends around the table. Your heart sank into your stomach and you had a feeling the discussion they had was a hard one. You can't imagine it being easy for your friends to discuss the best way to capture a brutal serial killer by using your life without actually endangering it.

"(Y/), tonight you're going to go home as normal. We have to assume he watches your every move so he cannot know that we're aware of you being his final target. We obviously will not leave you unguarded, Rossi and I will sit down the street from your apartment, Morgan and Reid will sit in the back of the parking lot so they can see anyone who exits and enters. If he's not bold enough to do anything tonight, we will simulate a day of errands for you, each of us posted where you go."

A chill runs down your spine. It's hard to believe you're about to be sent home and expected to act completely normal. To sit in your apartment alone, just waiting for him to try to break down your door or draw you out.

"You'll let me know every hour how you're doing and call Morgan or Reid if you notice anything since they'll be closest. If it makes you feel more comfortable, we can send someone ahead of you to replace your apartment security guard so someone with a little more training is there."

"Yes, please. I think that'll help." You almost whine. The more you sit here, the less you want this conversation to end because you want to avoid going home at absolutely all costs right now. You know you can't push it off forever or else you risk other women's lives. Before the meeting ends, JJ meets your eyes. "I promise you, we will find him."

"We're going to get this sick son of a bitch," Morgan adds. The rest of the team chimes in and you feel grateful to being going through this with a support system by your side. It makes the tight knot in your stomach loosen a little, realizing that you know you're safe with them. You know your entire team would stay up for days on end to catch this guy, and wouldn't allow themselves a moment of relaxation knowing you're unable to sleep or feel safe in your own home.

Hotch sends an agent to your apartment before you to simulate security guards changing shifts. You hope this will be enough, but something deep in your stomach twists anyway.

Before Reid leaves with Morgan to get to your apartment before you, he pulls you into the kitchen - a public place, but with enough cover to make your body heat. The thought of getting caught doing something scandalous sends a shiver up your spine but you quickly chastise yourself. Your life is in danger, now is not the time for fantasies.

"Can I ask you to do something for me?" He asks softly, his face looks battered from stress and you're sure you look the same. "Of course."

"Can you text me too? To let me know you're safe."

"Of course I will." You try to give him your best smile, but it falls flat. His care is warming, but it's hard to feel anything other than absolute fear at the moment.

"You're going to be okay," he promises. He abruptly pulls you into an embrace and you waste no time relaxing into his chest. He smells of almond and lavender. You take a deep breath, trying to memorize the smell of him. Your embrace ends too quickly and he leaves you standing alone in the kitchen.

After a torturous drive home, you pull into the parking lot of your apartment. You quickly scan your surroundings, making sure to wait an extra moment before exiting the car to see if another car pulls in. You spot the car Reid described to you sitting in the corner in the back of the parking lot and you let out a relieved sigh. This whole situation is terrifying and ridiculous all at once. You remember Hotch's words and get out of your car, trying your best to act as if you aren't completely afraid for your life and you're not about to spend the entire night rechecking your door and window locks, making sure all your hidden guns are reachable and in place.

You pass the agent posed as a security guard and trying not to draw attention to yourself as you head down the left hall towards the elevator to your apartment. You would be out of your complete mind to take the stairs in this situation, but you're unsure if an elevator might actually be worse if he were to randomly enter it.

The elevator stops with a jolt and opens on your floor. You take a cautious peak out and check down the hallway left and right before exiting. You quickly make it to your apartment door, looking back to make sure there's no one in the hallway. If you're lucky, he might not know what exact apartment you live in, but then you realize with despair that if he's been watching you for however long, he could have easily seen you enter and exit your apartment multiple times.

You fumble with your keys as you try not to act panicked and open your door. You swiftly enter and lock it immediately behind you, making sure to lock the deadbolt and put the chain on as well. You loose a deep sigh and your eyes widen at the fact that you still might not be safe yet. You didn't even think about the fact that you'd have to check your apartment when you got here to make sure he wasn't already waiting for you.

You quietly pull the gun from the holster on your side and slowly work through your apartment, turning on every light and lamp possible, locking every single window you walk past, checking inside your bedroom closet, the kitchen pantry, the small storage closet just outside your bedroom, and even behind the shower curtain. Once you've decided that there's no possible place for him to hide, you finally feel your muscles relax. You place your gun back in your holster, unable to feel safe without it by your side.

You grab yourself a glass of water and some snacks and decide to stay in the living room. You're able to keep an eye on the door and balcony simultaneously. You don't risk turning the TV on or listening to music to relax you. You need to be at complete high alert until your team catches this son of a bitch.

Time goes by agonizingly slow as you try to keep yourself awake and entertained. A full pot of coffee sits on the counter for you to refill as the night goes on, although you're unsure if you'll even need it. The fear is enough to keep your blood pumping hard through you. You try to play card games with yourself and practice some card tricks Spencer taught you when you first joined the Bureau.

You aren't able to keep your attention on one task for too long, your fear pulling your eyes to scan every inch of the room. You decide to risk sneaking a peak through your balcony curtains. You look out from the side, just barely moving the fabric over so no one would notice a disturbance in the curtains from the outside. After deciding the coast is clear, you recheck the balcony door lock and do a walk through of your apartment once again, checking locks, hiding spots, your gun always close by.

The first hour passes and when your phone buzzes it just about makes you jump completely out of your skin. You reach into your pocket to pull it out and quickly read a text from Hotch, asking for an update. You reply to let him know that everything's normal so far, all possible access points are locked and you've gone through your entire apartment in intense detail.

You remember the promise you made Spencer and text him as well, basically explaining the same thing you told Hotch.

Me: im scared spence

Spencer: I know, that's okay. You're brave, remember?

Me: im trying really hard to be. i can't even turn on the TV or focus on anything long enough without getting worried im going to miss something and he's going to catch me off guard.

Spencer: You're the strongest person I know, don't let him control you. These offenders love control and making you feel helpless.

Me: he is controlling me though. i cant even imagine sleeping, im jumping at every car door being shut, every car horn from the street, every bug at my window. even if we catch him, will the fear ever go away?

The text bubble appears and disappears a few times. You start to wonder if maybe something happened, if they caught someone trying to get into your building when your phone buzzes in your hands.

Spencer: I think we both know the statistics. But, I promise that I will do everything I can do ease the fear and be there for you when it's too much.

You begin to get teary eyed at his promise. Never in your life have you felt cared for or protected. It was always kill or be killed and you fought for your life since you were a child, just trying to survive in a world destined to chew you up and swallow you.

Me: thank you spence. that means more to me than i think you'll ever understand. you mean more to me than you'll ever understand.

You set your phone down on the table next to you, feeling jittery after sending that text. You deleted it and rewrote it about 5 times, but if your life is in danger, why hold back? You also think about how he might try to profile you and believe you're forming an attachment to him due to trauma bonding or transference.

You let out an aggravated sigh and rub your face with your hands. This has complicated your life in just about every way possible and you promise yourself that if you ever get your hands on the man that feels like he can make you cower away, locked in your apartment, you'll make him regret it.

I pick my phone back up and when I see Spencer hasn't replied, I text again.

Me: have you guys seen or learned anything?

Spencer: Not yet. Few people have walked into the building but we're not legally allowed to deny people the right into their homes. You live on the third floor so hopefully that should deter him from your apartment.

Me: hope so. im not sure i could ever come back here and live my life without fear if he chooses here.

Spencer: That's understandable. I don't think he's prepared for his endgame just yet. But I'm also not sure he is disorganized enough to attempt to attack you in broad daylight in a public place like the grocery store.

Me: he abducted those other women in broad daylight in high traffic areas though and no one saw a thing.

Spencer: (Y/n), you're a federal agent. If he has an IQ that's at least half of mine, he would need extra planning. A damn good rouse to lure you away and that's only if he's confident we have no idea you're his target. Don't worry, okay? We will stay here all night for you.

Me: thank you..it helps to know you are here. i don't feel alone in this.

Spencer: You're never alone. Never again, (y/n).

Spencer: As much as I want to keep talking to you to make sure you're safe, I think it's best you focus on your surroundings. Deep breathing exercises actually trick your brain into thinking that you're relaxed and takes your body out of flight or fight.

Me: are those drs orders?

Spencer: Yes, now be a good girl and relax.

Your breath catches in your throat with his last text. It takes you aback at the pure brashness of it, something you weren't sure he was even capable of doing.

You do as commanded and you allow yourself to pull your legs up onto the couch, despite the impracticality of it in the sick chance he breaks into your apartment. You try your hardest to do breathing exercises you found on Google.

You are slightly surprised when your body begins to relax a bit and you feel less at edge. You don't allow yourself to completely let down your guard, but you welcome the slight relaxation of your muscles at least.

Minutes turn to hours and if you didn't have your phone to check the time, you would have thought days were passing by. All you've been able to do is stare at the ceiling when you're not making your routine patrols around your apartment. You feel as if you're starting to get a bit stir crazy.

You check in hourly with Hotch and Spencer, not allowing yourself too much of a distraction. But, as the hours tick by, your eyelids get heavier and heavier. You begin to lower your vigilant wall the tiniest bit. If he wanted to attack here wouldn't he have done so by now?

Me: im so tired.

Spencer: It's okay to sleep. It's highly recommended by every doctor, including me.

Me: alright smart ass. do you think he would've already tried something by now? the suns about to come up and it's been almost 12 hours.

Spencer: Go to bed. None of us are going to sleep so you're safe. You've been through a lot, you deserve some rest, even if it's just an hour.

Me: i guess youre right. ive got all my locks in place anyway and i guess i would probably hear if any glass broke but i dont know how anyone would expect to take an entire grown woman down 3 levels without risking being seen by using the stairs.

Spencer: You don't need to justify sleeping to me. You deserve the rest, no matter what. No justification needed.

Me: Thank you, Spence. ♡

Spencer: ♡

Still a bit weary, you decide to check the balcony and do your patrol once more before you allow yourself to relax. After determining the coast is clear, you decide to finally retire to your bedroom. You unhook your gun holster and lay it on your nightstand, making sure to keep it in reach in case.

You don't even bother changing out of your clothes as you finally climb into bed. You let out a small moan of relief and sleep consumes you almost instantly.

You're taken out of your sleep by a loud thud, confusion overtaking you for a few moments as you blink rapidly around the room, attempting to adjust your eyes to the daylight. You're frozen in fear as your vision clears and there's a gun pointed right to your face.

The man holding the gun is in a regular hoodie and jeans, seemingly normal. You reel your terror back as you hold your hands up in surrender, attempting to make him believe you're willing to do as he pleases in hopes he makes a mistake.

You eye the time on the clock on your nightstand, if you can only distract him for a little bit longer, Hotch will call you when he realizes you aren't replying to his hourly check in and they'll come up here and save your ass.

All your able to do is stare at your attacker and stay completely still. You rack your brain for the best possible thing to say to get him to deescalate or at least lower the gun. "What's your name?"

"My name?" He questions, tilting his head to the side. You thought he might be put back by the question, instead he seems to have gained a confidence your profile suggested he was close to growing into. You suppose he must have had some new found confidence to be able to sneak past multiple undercover agents, and into a room on third floor with all doors and windows locked. He makes no move to lower the gun and no attempt to answer your question.

"How did you get in?" You ask as calmly as possible, hoping he made a mistake that way at least. Maybe your team was already outside, discussing how to play it to where he surrenders. You realize your luck as probably fallen short at the way a wicked smile spreads across his face.

"Do you not want to talk?" You try again. The blog posts he made about you play over in your head. You're hoping he takes the bait.

"Don't you think it's a little late to talk?" The gun stays unwavering in your face.

"What do you mean?"

The smile falls from his face and if you were in a cartoon, you can almost bet smoke would come out of his ears.

"What do I mean? You know what I mean!" He roars, shaking the gun angrily around. You decide to take this as your opportunity now that the gun isn't pointing towards you.

You release your leg from under the covers and kick as hard as you can muster into his abdomen. He reels back and you stumble out of bed and attempt to retrieve the gun on your nightstand when you realize it's no longer there. You spin around in time for his fist to connect with your jaw, knocking you off your feet, your knees barking as they connect with the hardwood.

You sweep out his legs from under him, sending him to the floor along with you. You spot his gun laying on your bedroom floor, right next your dresser, which unfortunately, he is right in front of. Before you can think to hesitate, you're up on your feet and lunging for the gun.

Before you're able to reach it, he grabs you by the collar of your shirt and swings you around and slams you into the wall. The breath clears your lungs and all you can do is fall to the ground on once more.

Blood from somewhere, you assume your face, drips onto the polished floor below you. You attempt to play the defeated victim, hoping it draws him close enough for you to catch him by surprise.

His heavy feet slam against your floorboards until he is right in front of you, gun completely abandoned on the floor. He grips your neck with a strong hand and lifts you to your feet. When he brings your face to his, you spit blood into his eye, causing him to drop you.

You use the few moments you gave yourself to at least make it out of your bedroom, grab a knife or one of your hidden guns, anything to give you the upper hand against a man twice your size and strength.

"Bitch!" He roars, wiping furiously at his eyes as you scramble with the door to your bedroom. You swing it open and lunge towards the closet gun you can think of when you see the open compartment, your gun missing from it.

"You think I don't know every single detail about your life, (y/n)?" He laughs from behind you as you're frozen in the middle of your living room. "I've been waiting for a long time, (y/n). Do you like the presents I left you? I figured I'd show you what I would do to you."

"You have an odd perception of the word present." You deadpan. You scramble to come up with a solution. All your guns are gone, if you run to the kitchen you better hope to hell he doesn't shoot you first or get there before you. "What do you want?"

"You." He smiles, and before you can react he's on you again. As you fight tooth and nail against his raging grasp, you hear your phone begin to ring. You allow hope to bubble in your chest, just a few more minutes, you say to yourself. They'll save me.

When you finally think you have the upper hand on him, he lands a fist to your temple that throws you to the carpet. Your vision spins as you attempt to crawl anywhere but where he is. You feel his laugh in your bones and you can tell he is taking his time taking in his win and the power it gives him. Your sight becomes blurry and you fight as hard as you can against it. But, all you seem to have the strength for is to watch blood spill from your mouth and the wounds on your face, onto the carpet of your living room. You gather enough strength to at least look your attacker in the face and deny him as much of the power he craves as you can. "I'm not afraid of you," you whisper. Your throat feels tight, and it's almost impossible to swallow. You spit blood onto your carpet as you try to relieve the pressure in your throat.

"You should be," is the last thing you hear before you see his boot come down towards your head and the world turns black.

[swe3tte4rs]

" An unexpected meeting of a mother and son " - Batmom!Oc and Jason Todd/Red Hood

Summary : Dahlia (Oc) tries to forget about her second little baby and his death after the arrival of her third sweet son. But she didn't know that she would have a very nostalgic visit.

Author note: Hello!! Before you read this and find any spelling mistakes, tell me in a comment 🙏, my main language is not English 😓. Also, this is my first "Oneshot" (I think it's a Oneshot, but I don't know), so I didn't know whether to put Batmom as Y/N or as some OC, so I decided on the OC 💪. (This Batfamily is a mix of comics, Webtoon, series, movies and headcanons… so… you know, not everything will follow the canon 😇)

TW: angst????

"Oh... God... my sweet boy... my little angel... Please don't him..." The woman murmured between sobs as she leaned against her husband's strong body.

"I'm sorry, Dahlia..." Bruce apologized in a murmur as he wrapped his arms around his wife. He felt the same as his wife, although much more frustration and disappointment in himself for not being able to arrive in time to save his son.

On the other hand, her eldest son, Dick, also had tears in his eyes and felt desperate because he couldn't do anything to make his mother stop crying. He approached her mother and hugged her. strongly.

Dahlia had just received the devastating news that her sweet second baby had been brutally murdered. She felt a void in her heart, one where she was filled with the love of Jason, her sweet angel. Dahlia couldn't even feel anger or the feeling of wanting to kill whoever was guilty of the murder, she was too busy drowning in her own misery and pain, deep ones that won't heal for a long time.

Some time has passed since the devastating death in the Wayne family. But, another little one had joined the family as the new and third Robin.

Tim was a child genius, with amazing detective skills. He was also a very loving and cute son to his new mother.

Dahlia with the new arrival of Tim Drake as her third child, she did what she could to forget about Jason and fill that void in her heart with Tim's love.

Dahlia loved Tim as she loved her two other children. She made sure Tim felt loved and protected by a mother, doing everything any mother would do with her little baby, like spending a whole day with him going shopping.

She was happy with the new member of the family, she loved him. But even with Tim by her side, Dahlia couldn't forget her sweet little angel, Jason.

The woman went to the cemetery every day to leave flowers and clean her son's grave. "I'm sorry my sweet angel…" Dahlia said softly as she placed the flowers on the dirt covering Jason's coffin.

Tears began to run down her cheeks as she remembered those beautiful moments she had with Jason. Remembering when Jason used to tell her every detail of the missions she had as Robin and fought crime. Although it hurt her more not to be able to hug him and remind him that she loved him with all her soul. "My baby… I'm sorry…"

Dahlia sighed and wiped away her tears, stood up and walked away from the grave, thinking that a rest would be good for her and that she shouldn't come to the cemetery every day…

Another short time passed, Dahlia was in the kitchen preparing something to eat for herself, since she had already made sure that her husband and children had something to eat before going out on patrol. She was calm in the kitchen, with nothing on her mind, just taking care of what she had in her hands.

Until she heard heavy and slow footsteps approaching the kitchen, where she was. Dahlia thought it was Bruce, maybe he had arrived earlier than normal. When the footsteps finally finished echoing and they were already in the kitchen, Dahlia turned to look with a smile thinking it was Bruce.

"You came back early hon-…" Dahlia spoke but she interrupted herself upon seeing a stranger with a red helmet.

She tightened her grip on the knife she was holding. "Who are you…?" Dahlia asked with a hint of fear and distrust. "If you come closer I swear that-" Dahlia was interrupted when she saw how the stranger took off his helmet and revealed his face.

Dahlia couldn't believe it…she was seeing her dead son in person. Her expression changed to one of surprise mixed with sadness. She began to feel that her eyes were going to start crying at any moment, but for some reason she couldn't let go of the tears, first she wanted to know if she really was her son or just a hallucination in her head. "Jason…?" Dahlia said quietly as she dropped the knife and covered her mouth with her hand.

Jason placed his helmet on the ground and clenched his fists in anger… or perhaps, frustration. He looked at Dahlia and stared at her. "I thought you loved me, like you loved Grayson. Like your son." He spoke, trying not to let his anger and desperation show. "But I only see that you got a replacement." Jason added as he clenched his fists tighter.

Dahlia opened her mouth but not a single word came out, she was shocked, was it really her son who was in front of her? Or was it just one of her other hallucinations? Dahlia didn't know whether to really believe what she was seeing, what if this was all a dream? Her Jason should be dead. However, she was seeing him in front of her, with some scars on his arms and face.

Regardless of whether it was a dream or not, she was going to hug her son.

Dahlia rushed towards Jason and quickly wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hug with a tight grip as tears began to well up from her eyes and slide down her cheeks. "Oh Jason… Please forgive me my sweet angel… I'm sorry for not having been a good mother to you and not being able to go and protect you… I'm so sorry honey…" Dahlia said between tears and sobs, holding his son tightly with no intention of letting go.

Jason wanted to push her, but she just wouldn't let him; Dahlia was his mother, his support, and the most beloved woman in his life. He was just resentful, frustrated to see his mother with a new son. Frustrated to see how his mother was loving another child. Jason felt as if his mother had completely forgotten about him after his death.

But after hearing Dahlia call him by his old nickname, he saw those moments pass by when he was happy playing and talking with his mother. He couldn't deny it, he loved how her mother's laughter could be heard along with her smiles.

Jason pursed his lips and simply hugged his mother back, tighter. And his vision began to cloud with tears that he wanted to hide but he let them out, unburdening himself in Dahlia's arms. "Ma…"

[HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!!!!]