anything inspired by Chad's "Fuck you, I can be gentle" voice line, because it lives in my head rent free
maybe this was kinda cliché but i honestly think this line fits the context sooo well bc every time i think about it i picture a scene like this. hope u like it, nonnie <3
Robert wakes at the faintest sound of cars passing outside. He stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling washed in bluish pre-dawn light, disoriented for a few long seconds. The weight of the thick, fluffy comforter keeps him grounded in the undeniable fact that he is definitely not in his own apartment. Beside him, he hears the slow, steady rhythm of someone else breathing. Robert keeps still for a moment, listening to it, then carefully turns his head on the pillow.
Flambae is asleep on his stomach, face turned slightly toward Robert’s side of the bed. His hair is a mess. Thick strands falling over his forehead and across his cheek, some caught against his lips. His expression is relaxed in a way Robert isn’t used to seeing — soft, unguarded.
Robert studies him with quiet intensity, like he’s committing the sight to memory. He’s used to seeing Flambae animated, smirking, arguing, performing confidence like it’s second nature. This version feels private. Unfiltered. Robert almost wants to catalog it: the slope of his nose, the faint crease between his brows that remains even in sleep, the way one hand curls loosely into the pillow.
For a dangerous second, Robert considers staying exactly where he is. Letting the morning happen around them. Letting himself exist in this space a little longer.
But the sun hasn’t even risen, and already the instinct to retreat presses at his ribs.
Careful not to wake Flambae, Robert slides one leg out from under the comforter. The air hits his skin, cool and sobering. He moves with deliberate precision, easing himself upright, pausing every time the mattress shifts. As he does, the previous night replays in flashes behind his eyes. Neon lights at the club, music vibrating through his chest. Prism grabbing his wrist and dragging him onto the dance floor despite his protests. The embarrassing stiffness in his shoulders as he tried to follow the beat. Flambae laughing at him — not cruelly, just amused — before stepping in close enough that dancing stopped being about rhythm and started being about closeness.
Then, the alley outside the club. The cold air mixing with the warm breath of shared cigarettes. The inevitable kiss.
And later, the narrow stairwell of Flambae’s building. Fingers brushing. The door unlocking. The point of no return.
The mattress dips behind him. Robert freezes, already standing beside the bed.
Flambae shifts, still half-asleep, and throws an arm across the empty space Robert just vacated. His palm lands on cool sheets instead of skin. He exhales through parted lips, a soft, almost-snore escaping him. The sound is oddly intimate. Robert’s mouth curves upward despite himself.
Then reality returns, again.
He bends to retrieve his underwear from the foot of the bed and pulls it on quickly, the fabric shockingly cold against his skin. His shirt lies crumpled near the dresser. When he lifts it, the cotton whispers loudly in the quiet room, or maybe it only feels loud because his heart is pounding so hard in his ears. He winces anyway.
His jeans are halfway toward the hallway, abandoned in haste the night before. He collects them carefully, step by step, as though he’s navigating a minefield. Every creak of the floorboards feels amplified.
Dressed enough to be decent, he slips out of the bedroom. Ready to leave. No note. No message.
Robert pulls one sneaker onto his foot as he walks, balancing briefly against the wall. He grips the other in his hand and reaches the front door. His fingers close around the doorknob, and he turns it millimeter by millimeter, controlling the latch so it won’t click.
He’s almost successful.
“Why… are you leaving like a fugitive?”
The voice behind him is rough, sleep-heavy..
Robert stills completely. The doorknob remains half-turned in his hand.
He closes his eyes for a second, then releases a slow breath before turning around. He pinches the bridge of his nose, buying himself time.
Flambae stands in the bedroom doorway. His t-shirt hangs loose, slipping off one side and exposing the curve of his collarbone. His eyes are barely open, lashes low, but they’re fixed on Robert with surprising clarity. He looks disoriented. And… something else. Something that almost resembles hurt.
“I…” Robert swallows. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
Flambae hums softly, like he’s acknowledging that, but he keeps staring at Robert, waiting.
“It was late.” Robert adds, shifting his weight. “I just thought…” He stops himself, gaze flicking toward the door again.
“What did you think?”
Flambae leans against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed. He looks tired, not combative. The usual hostility he carries isn’t there yet.
Robert shrugs and forces himself to meet Flambae’s eyes. “You don’t strike me as the kind of person who wants someone getting attached afterward.”
The word lands between them and changes the air.
Flambae straightens slightly. His expression changes, not angry, but offended.
“Attached?” he repeats, like he’s testing the word.
Robert looks down. “Look, it was fun. I just figured it would be easier this way.”
Flambae pushes off the doorframe and walks toward him slowly, bare feet silent against the floor. The space between them shrinks until the air feels warmer, charged. He stops close enough that Robert can feel the heat of him again, the same warmth that had been pressed against his skin hours earlier.
“Mmm. Fuck you.” Flambae mutters, disbelief threaded through the words. “I’m not that kind of asshole.”
He lifts a hand and cups Robert’s face, thumb brushing lazily over the dispatcher’s cheek. “I can be gentle.”
The statement settles heavily in Robert’s chest.
Flambae’s eyes are clearer now, fully focused. “You could’ve stayed.” he continues. “All night. The morning, too.”
Robert’s grip tightens around the sneaker in his hand. His shoulders, rigid until now, begin to loosen inch by inch.
“I thought you wouldn’t want me there when you woke up.”
“You thought wrong, Bob Bob.” Flambae teases, a sleepy grin pulling at his mouth, revealing the small gap where a tooth is missing. “As usual.”
Robert exhales through his nose, rolling his eyes even as relief warms his chest. He gently nudges Flambae’s hand away from his face. “Fuck you.” he muttters.
Flambae doesn’t get the chance to fire back with something provocative, because Robert has already turned away from the door and started walking back toward the bedroom.
“I’m going to want coffee.” Robert calls over his shoulder.
“Bitch.” Flambae shoots back automatically, hurrying after him.
“Now get back in bed before I lose my patience.” Flambae says it firmly, but the faint upward curve at the corner of his mouth betrays him.
Because they both know Robert is already doing exactly that.
Hhhheyyyy I see a lot of stuff for Dainty And Soft readers and honestly love that for them but,,, could I mayhaps request,,, an absolute bear of an s/o. Tall and squish and strong. Maybe said s/o shoving (insert whichever characters you would enjoy writing this for most) against a wall and kissing them 👀 👀 Just fuckin manhandling them like it's nothing wldkskdk (also you're doing the lord's work love your content bless)
I also need more big Bear Reader characters, this made my brain stutter while thinking about it.
I was going to do three slashers, I try to do at least three. Then I realized I do not know half as many slashers as I thought I did. I worried about doing some characters too often, so I decided just to do Michael and Billy since it’s been a little while.
If you want to see this (or any prev scenarios) with other slashers, just inbox me or comment and I will add it to the list :3
How They React To A Physically Domineering S/O
Notes/Warnings: GN!Reader, Non-explicit sexual references, manhandling the slashers, mention of becoming a slasher yourself, Canon-typical mental health issues (Billy)
Michael Myers
Hope you like a bit of rough-housing babe, because he is taking every opportunity to try and regain dominance
You just show up, being almost as tall as him and just as Wide™, and he takes that personally.
He thinks you'll give into him as people usually do, so when you first manhandle him he's too shocked to do anything but let you. Only that first time though.
Having you overpower him so easily has his mind racing, and he becomes a little fixated on you in his typical way. It’s part of the reason you get together.
If you try and press him to a wall, he is going to try and reverse that on you even if it ends up with both of you on the floor
It actually excites him to have someone as imposing as him, it makes him feel more powerful when he manages to beat you in your impromptu wrestling matches
That does often lead exactly where you expect it to
The few times that you manage to get the upper hand on him, you’ll find he’s actually very malleable, and melts when you kiss him and grab hold of him possessively
He isn’t okay with having his mask taken off, but if you pull it up to his nose so you can kiss him, he is very much into that. It has to be pretty far into the relationship because it obscures his vision quite a bit, but he’s surprised to find that he likes that and putting that trust into you that you won’t fully unmask him
One time, you stop him from being attacked by one of his victims, pretty much throwing the guy across a room, and he has to reboot himself in order to escape, because that awakened a thing in him
Are you sure you don’t want to become a slasher like him? He’s heard of Power Couples; you could be one of those. Haddonfield would never recover 💖🔪
Billy Lenz
Horny
I mean obviously, but still
He sees that you're built a little differently than the others, more shape and height to you than your friends, and honestly it's exciting even then, because his dirty mind comes up with a whole lot of thoughts about gripping your waist and hips, and how soft your thighs would feel against his. Or even better, if your thighs are hard and muscled, he wants you to force him still between them
When you and him actually get together, he is expecting a more submissive personality from you because he expects that from any person so it is a surprise when you show that you can easily turn the tables on him
The first time you push him to a wall and kiss him, he is full on whining, drooling, melting into a puddle on the floor. He doesn't want you to stop, why would you stop, so he's pulling you back to kiss him again the second you try and move away.
He will rile you up and poke at you so you’ll pin him to a wall or hold him back and tell him to stop, he goes full brat in order to get that sort of reaction from you. Even just crowding him and glaring at him will make him whimper
He will steal your clothes. He does not care how much you liked that shirt, it’s his now.
Inevitably, his mood sours and crashes and at first he’d hide out in the attic or a closet, or any room big enough for him, but the more he got to know you, the more he would seek you out, he’ll gravitate towards you and hover whenever you’re around, clingier than usual without wanting anything from it
He’ll hold on to you and mutter to himself, both as himself and his mother, or want to curl up with you in the dark, or he’ll slink from ‘his spot’ and lie on top of you.
If he gets too aggressive and starts to throw things around, it’s not a good idea to try and restrain him but since you’re bigger than him, you can easily get in front of him and cup his head in your hands and soothe him from that anger just by talking soft to him
Break the train of thought of break kill break it make it hurt you have to break it, even just for a second, and he falls against you and starts to cry instead of being destructive
He is the Little Spoon. It makes it easier for him to be grounded from his nightmares
He trusts you to protect him from the things haunting him, not just because of your size difference, but how you always look after him. The fact you can narrow his world down just to you is a bonus in these cases
Could you write more about them? Maybe reader and Joaquin get closer and then start dating. At first reader doesn't want to sleep at his apartment because of her nightmares that she sometimes has... One night she accidentally falls asleep at his place but she doesn't have a nightmare. So a few days later reader stays again but then she has a nightmare. Joaquin is there for her. Can you also somehow include Bucky again?
Thank you and take your time!
Thank you so much! I really appreciate that you like my fanfics and my writings!! 🤍 I want to sincerely apologize for taking so long with this life's been superrrrrr busy and I'm on my 2 week minecraft phase t.t and I have so many WIPS in progress that I think you guys are going to absolutely love!
ᴛɪᴛʟᴇ: "ɪ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ." Pt.2 ʚɞ
You never meant to get so close to Joaquin.
Not because you didn’t want to. God, you wanted to.
But wanting something and being ready for it were two very different things.
Joaquin understood that. He understood you.
He didn’t push.
Didn’t rush.
Didn’t try to fill every silence.
He just stayed.
It started with pizza and some show he swore you’d love—Even though he kept glancing at you instead of the TV.
You curled into the far end of the couch, legs tucked under you. Joaquin sat close enough that you felt his warmth but not close enough to make your pulse panic.
You didn’t even remember falling asleep.
Just… warm. Safe. The sound of his breathing. The faint smell of his detergent. His fingers brushing the back of your hand without realizing it.
When you woke up, sunlight was leaking through the curtains.
Your head was on his chest.
His arm was around you.
And you were breathing evenly—No tightness in your throat, no sweat, no shaking.
No nightmare.
For a terrifying moment, you froze.
Then you looked up.
Joaquin was awake, blinking sleep from his eyes, hair messy and sticking to his forehead.
“Morning..” He whispered, voice soft like he was afraid of startling you.
Your heart flipped. “I—I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“I know.” A tiny smile tugged at his mouth.
“I’m glad you did.”
He said it like a secret. Like a truth he’d been holding in.
Your cheeks warmed, and you sat up a little too fast.
“We should, uh, head back. Bucky’s probably—”
“Already outside..” Joaquin finished, nodding toward the window.
Sure enough, Bucky was outside Joaquin’s building, arms crossed, pacing like he was debating whether to break the door down.
You groaned.
Joaquin tried not to laugh.
He failed.
Bucky didn’t yell.
He didn’t glare.
He just looked relieved when you stepped out of the building.
And then he immediately glared at Joaquin.
"You didn't call.." Bucky grumbled as you reached him.
"I—Fell asleep.." You murmured, cheeks heating.
Bucky’s expression softened. The way it always did when he realized you weren’t hurt. “Next time, just text.”
Then, to Joaquin, in that dad voice he couldn’t help:
“She gets nightmares. She can’t—”
You squeezed Bucky’s arm gently.
“I didn’t have one.”
Bucky blinked. Surprised. Almost disbelieving.
“…Good..” he said gruffly. “That’s… good.”
Joaquin caught the look Bucky gave him.
A silent, reluctant approval.
A very Bucky “I see you, kid. Don’t mess up.”
A Few Days Later
You stayed at Joaquin’s again.
Dinner. A movie. Quiet touches.
Your shoulder leaning into his.
Your head on his chest while his heartbeat tapped a steady rhythm under your ear.
You fell asleep like that.
But this time… the dream wasn’t gentle.
It was Hydra.
Cold metal.
The chair.
The screaming.
Your screaming—
You woke with a gasp, choking on air, shaking so hard your teeth clicked.
“Hey—hey, it’s okay.” Joaquin whispered immediately, sliding back a little so he wouldn’t crowd you.
His hands stayed visible, open.
His voice low.
Patient.
“You’re here. Not there. Look at me—Look at me, mi amor.”
The nickname should have made your stomach flutter.
Instead, it made you cry.
You collapsed forward, hiding your face in your hands, breath coming out in broken pieces.
Joaquin didn’t touch you.
Not until you leaned into him.
Then his arms wrapped around you—Steady, warm, grounding. His chin rested on your head.
“I’ve got you.. always got you my sweet girl.” he murmured.
“You’re safe with me. Nothing’s gonna hurt you here. I promise.”
You clung to him, gripping his shirt like it was a lifeline.
“I’m sorry.” You whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t want you to see that.”
“Hey.” He gently tipped your chin up so you’d meet his eyes.
“Don’t apologize for something you survived.”
Something in your chest cracked open.
And you kissed him.
Soft. Desperate. Real.
His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears you didn’t realize were still falling.
When you pulled back, you whispered, “I want this… I want you. I’m just—Still scared sometimes.”
“I know.” He kissed your forehead.
“And I’m not going anywhere.”
Bucky shows up
Not angrily.
Not suspiciously.
Just… worried.
He knocked once before stepping inside Joaquin’s apartment like he owned the place.
“Is she—Oh.”
Bucky froze.
You were wrapped in a blanket, curled into Joaquin’s chest on the couch.
Joaquin didn’t let go.
You didn’t move away.
Bucky blinked at the sight.
His brows lifted, then softened.
Really softened.
“…Nightmare?” he asked gently.
You nodded.
“Did he help?”
Another nod.
Bucky let out a slow breath.
Not angry. Not upset.
Just… relieved.
“Good.” he said quietly.
Then, with a faint smirk.. "If he ever doesn't, you call me. I'll drag his ass out of bed.
Joaquin sputtered. “Bucky—!”
You laughed—A real one—And Bucky’s whole face lit up.
He looked at Joaquin.
“At ease, Torres. She likes you. That’s… more than I ever thought I’d see.”
i go by Nexus typically. or you can call me Limb, i don't particularly care. my pronouns are they/it/voi.
feel completely free to request posts by either @ing me in a comment/RB, or sending me an ask/DM with the link
blog specifics under the cut
i count limbs!
Limb Definition
for this blog my definition of limb is going to be very loose, cuz its more fun that way. (thats the point of gimmick blogs, right?) anyway my general definition is:
"an arm, leg, or other part of an animal, bug, or other creature typically typically used for locomotion or manipulation of objects"
so that means im counting: the arms and legs of pretty much all animals, most fish and aquatic mammal fins, bird (not bug) wings, cellular pseudopods, perhaps some tails (for example: the prehensile tails of spider monkeys, seahorses, and possums), and pretty much anything i find to be funny or just fits the vibe
truthfully its really just up to my discretion/ how i feel when i make the post, but I'll try my best to be consistent.
next, if you disagree with my definition/count, think i made a mistake, or just want to ask me something/send in a post, feel free! my asks, DMs, and RBs are —and will probably continue to be— open!
Colors
you also may have noticed that i highlighted some of the words, thats because i decided that for funzies, different types of limbs will have different colors, they are as listed:
• arms- red ♥️
• legs- orange 🧡
• fins- blue 💙
• wings- pink 🩷
• tails- green 💚
• other- purple 💜
and finally..
The Tagging System
#limbs counted
^ (standard post, i count the limbs, nothing special)
#arms / #legs / #fins / #wings / #tails
^ (if the post contains the given tag, for example, a post just tagged "#arms" will at only contain arms, and a post tagged "#arms", "#legs", and "#tail" will contain only arms legs and tails.)
#arm / #leg / #fin / #wing / #tail
^ (if the post only contains 1 arm/leg/fin/wing/tail. these tags are added in addition to the first set, for searching purposes)
#[x]s and [y]s / #[x]s [y]s and [z]s
^ (just a little thing for more specific searching, to take the example from one of the first explanations, the post containing exclusively arms, legs, and tails, would also have the tag "#arms legs and tails". these will always use the plural version, include other limbs, and go in the order previously shown)
#other & #[insert other limb here]
^ (this is a post that contains any limbs other than the main 5, further, the second tag is just to show what if there is some other limb, i will tag it, for example i'd tag "#pseudopods". its also worth noting the previous pluralization rules do not apply the tags of other limbs, they are all tagged exclusively plural)
#humor tag
^ (in addition to the other tag, its supposed to be humor, not serious, e.g. if the post counts #table legs)
#table legs / #chair arms / #tree limbs / ect.
^ (it contains the tag, lol. what im gonna note is that i would also tag the standard limb tag with things like these, for example a post tagged "#table legs" would also be tagged "#legs".)
#"limbs" counted
^ (counting the number of times the word limb was used, please note the quotation marks)
^ (the post contains the tagged amount of limbs, for example 4 total for "#4 limbs", but if theres 0 total, i use "#no limbs". or if they have a >, they have more than that number)
#limbs not counted
^ (for whatever reason, i don't count limbs in the post)
^ (i hope its clear what all of these mean, cause im not explaining all of them. the most important ones are: "#limb/non-limb ask", which is whether the ask is related to limbs or not, and "#ask" which i will just categorize all my asks under.)
#non-limb post / #mod post
^ (the post is not related to limbs, nor their counting)
⚠️Trigger/Content Warning Tags⚠️
to explain, i plan on tagging warnings as they come up, but here's the ones i think i might reblog.
please note: for all of these i will tag with both the "#tw:" and "#cw:" versions, and assume them before each topic
body horror, horror, many limbs, bugs, insects, and spiders
if there are any requests/suggestions for what to warning tag, please tell me, i want my blog to be welcome to all users!
furthermore if i have to add any trigger/content warnings i will add the "#⚠️" tag, if you just wanna block all of them
END
i'll tag this post with most of the tags shown here, so theyre easier to search. thanks for taking the time to read this! hope you enjoy the rest of your day!! and like. you can check out my main maybe. id youd like. check out #my art perhaps.. just a thought
art! sometimes. I'm going to post my silly thoughts too probably. just whatever they/it/voi>he/she and ummm minor and also a shark ig
Ever since the dreadful accident, sleep—something which wouldn't come easily anymore—had been deprived from the three of you, leaving you all sluggish to move through the day.
Stu would be the first one to wake up—even though he's more of a heavyweight sleeper, sleeping till late afternoon if no one would wake him up—and being a sprawler, his lanky long limps like a starfish hitting his two boyfriends every now and then, he could easily bring you into a koala hug like headlock.
Like mention before, Stu sleeps heavily—sunken so deep into the dreamland and in the comforts of bed, that he wouldn't even notice if the sky would shatter down onto earth.
Though now, besides Billy's rough way of waking him up—a slap to his thighs—the slightest hectic movement from you would bring him to a point of rise.
Turning onto his sides, towards you, Stu moves you into his arms. Holding you tight to
Where while Billy, who could sleep just as deep if wanted to—but didn't, liked to be on natural guard—would occasionally wake up on his own, checking up on you and taking a toilet break.
Billy was more the rational—doesn't mean he hadn't a soft side—person of comfort and Stu—who could be just as mean if needed—the one for emotional support. They're both their counterparts and at the same time they completed one another—like missing puzzles or Yin and Yang.
In all this you're the pull of glue which hold them both together. From the beginning of your relationship, you had giving them nothing but unconditional warm comfort of love, making sure they're happy and satisfied.
Though after the accident it all had changed and now it was their turn to shower you in unconditional love and support.
Simply because they adored you just as much as you do them and because you're their driving force—the sole motivation of reasons—why they decided to do what they do; delightful killing.
~~~
Stu groaned in pain, doubling over into a fetal position as your hand collided with his stomach in full force again. Sure, you had lost some strength in your muscles—on practically terrible days couldn't even stand on your own without having help or an aid—but you still were able to give a few good hits.
Whatever dream it was this time, it made your hand hitting down on repeat—like a cat would do when trying to catch a toy.
Another groan from Stu, had you hit his side this time. Should he try and wrap you into a blanket hug again or wake Billy up?
He couldn't tell how server your nightmare is this night. If it's just a common one—he really doesn't know the different types of nightmares and their names and neither does Billy, so they decided to give them their own ranks, for a more easily weighting out of options and methods to use against you—or one of the terrific ones.
The ranks of Nightmares goes like this; A common one means, letting you it trashing it out. Mid ones, wrapping you up into a blanket or tight hug. Terrible ones, waking you up. Terrific ones—where you're in a sense awake at the same time and giving yourself also a panic attack at the same time, without realising—would mean injecting you with a sedative.
More than often they had to use the Sedative during Common or terrible ones too.
Which they shouldn't, as the doctor said not to and only when absolutely necessary needed—the sedative was quite strong, making you sleep through a whole day and brings your mind into a state of fuzzy haze when awake again, that it turns you vulnerable and incoherent.
But when you're so immersed into your panic, they had no other options at hand, then to inject it into your blood.
»Fuck.« Billy cursed out loud when your hand landed onto his stomach, full force. Stu stifles a chuckle—serves you right, he thought, if I have to suffer so does you.
Billy sats up, blankets dropping down from him, turning his head to his boyfriends and squinting into the darkness a bit.
»Shut up Stu. Next time you wake me beforehand, when [Name] starts to trash around like this.« grumbled Billy, hissing shortly after when his thigh got slapped.
Christ, could you hit hard when unintentionally wanted to.
»Nah, make me«
»C'mon big guy, let's go to the couch to get at least some sleep.«
~~~
A few hours later, in the early mornings, your screaming woke Billy and Stu up. Like cold water being dumped on them, they tumbled from the couch and onto the floor.
Wide awake now, on full guard—you screaming was never a good thing—and ready to strike an attack to whatever intruder might have come, they untangled them from each other limps.
Bolting with quick steps back into the bedroom, switching the lights on and discovering you.
Sitting on the ground, against the nightstand. Head in hands, gripping your hair tightly—pulling at it—trembling uncontrollably in shivers.
»Baby, what's wrong?« asked Billy, voice soft and in a audible whisper. Slowly approaching you with Stu, crouching down and stretching his hand out into your view.
»He's here. He's here. He's here.« you chanted it like a mantra, rocking back and forth.
»Who's here, darling?«
»Dylan! He's here! He's back! He will hurt me again!« your head whipped up, looking at Billy with a wide fear filled face. Tears already flowing from you eyes as you pointed with a shaking finger at the wardrobe.
»Baby, baby, he isn't here, believe me.« said Stu, leaning against the wall. They know Dylan isn't here, have killed him after all to ensure your safety.
»Yes he is!« jumping up, pushing Billy and Stu aside and going to the wardrobe, you opened it wide—searching through the clothes.
You shirked in utterly disbelief. He was here, you're sure of it. You have saw him just mere minutes ago, when you woke up—saw his face looking down at you and the grin he had giving you.
It's a tragic and also a daily sight for them to see you so distressed in panic. How you destroyed yourself mentally further, with the slow rise of losing reality and growing into a paranoia.
»Nononononono« a hiccup left your lips, kneeling down, gripping your hair again and hitting your head against the floor. Mumbling incoherent words, messy nonsense things.
»Stu, get the Syringe« Billy pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling deeply. That's the third time in a row now, that they had to use the sedative. Thought they had no other choice or you would've injured yourself in your panicking state of hysteria more.
At this point they probably overdosing you with the chemical drug of calm, but what other choice had they? Sending you into therapy and they, the therapist signed you off into a mental institution? No chance.
Billy goes to you, heaving you up into his arms and moving you towards the bed. Sitting you and himself down onto the mattress, prying your hands from your head.
~~~
When Stu came back in, syringe in hand, Billy had managed to calm you down significantly, looking just a tad exhausted.
Billys grip around your body tightens, knowing well what was about to come next.
Once you took notice of the syringe in Stu's hand and the apologetic look he wore, you winced visibly in Billy arms.
You hated every type of needles. The sharp point brought a sense of pain filled imaginations. How it stabs into your skin, piercing a hole into it and either sucking your blood or letting it flow out.
Needles are a tool of something sinister.
Billy had pinned you down onto the mattress, hovering over you and this was the only cruel thing they had do to you—reminding you of the night when Dylan had hovered over you, grinning down, licking his lips in lust when he stabbed the scissors into you—so Billy lets you trash as much as you wanted.
»Let me go! Let me go! Nonono no. LET ME GO!« you screamed, trying to headbutt Billy, trying to free yourself.
You don't want the needle be pierced into your skin again, has it enough tiny disgusting holes already.
Stu joined, taking a seat next to you. Taking your arm from Billys grip, he injected the syringe into your skin.
While the drugs take their time to flow into your system, Billy and Stu had both engulfed you into their arms. Caressing you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, till you're completely numb of panic—drowsy and calm.
