#its getting so fucking hot out and i have so many scars on my arm
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2 weeks clean from self-harm. 11 of those days i was in the hospital though
#i've been home 3 days and haven't relapsed yet...#idk what im doing#its getting so fucking hot out and i have so many scars on my arm#many are like the red puffy kind so they're very noticable on my extremely pale skin#im sick of covering my arms all the time. all my scars are healed and just scars (no scabs or anything)#i dont want to trigger anyone. in the hospital they made me cover my arm but no one else with self-harm scars had to#and i think that kinda fucked me up and they way i see myself and my scars#im too afraid to even show my arm around my parents because i don't want to make them feel sad#i am going to have very noticable scars the entire summer#honestly showing my arms would probably make me self-harm a lot less#maybe i should just say fuck it and stop caring
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AITA for not wanting to play DnD with a teenager?
So I (22F) am in college and after classes I like to play DnD with four of my friends, Ricky (21M), Tara (21F) Lola (22F) and Julie (20F)
Well recently Tara's little sister Ashley (15F) has been hanging out at Tara's apartment, where we usually have our game sessions, after school. Like for about two weeks now. Tara says its because her mother got a new job and doesnt get off work until 7pm so Ashley stays at the apartment from 4pm till about 7:30pm when her mother comes to pick her up.
4 pm is when our game sessions start most of the time (depending on if any of us have night classes that day or not) which means we now have a literal child watching us play. And because of that Tara has asked that we tone down the game sessions to be more "appropriate" and we also cant get drunk until Ashley leaves (which is stupid because Julie is under 21 and we can drink around her just fine but whatever) frankly I didnt mind the constant audience since Ashley was far more interested in watching us play than watching TV or playing on Tara's switch.
Well apparently just watching wasnt good enough for the brat because when i got to Tara's apartment for a game, Ashley was sitting at our table, excitedly filling out a character sheet while chattering nonstop with Ricky and Lola (Julie wasn't coming this time she had the stomach flu)
I naturally asked what she was doing because she normally just watched. Ashley gave me a confused look and said that she was joining our game like we had apparently talked about in our groupchat the night prior. Ricky and Lola both backed her up and showed the groupchat.
I had seen the messages but I thought Tara was joking about adding a literal child that doesnt even have a learners permit to our game that we had been continuing for three months now. I naturally went to go confront Tara.
She said that I agreed to let Ashley join in and if I didn't want to play with her I could've just not come.
Is she fucking serious?
What kind of sane person would want to play with a literal child and its edgy as fuck character (like the character was a wolf necromancer dressed in all black with two random scars across its chest. You could smell the hot topic radiating from this cringefest)
Tara refused to listen to reason and instead insisted that Ashley can play just for tonight and if i didnt like it I could leave.
I had no choice to stay and play
It was so fucking miserable.
The brat was constantly making stupid mistakes and dragging the whole party down with her. We constantly had to stop so Ricky (our DM) could explain things that should've been obvious because Ashley was too stupid to actually figure it out. My character was having to bail her's out near constantly. It was getting to the point where I just wanted to legitimately slap Ashley. I didnt because Tara would absolutely murder me but oh the temptation was strong.
And the worst part? I was the only one who seemed to be upset that our game was being completely thrown off course. Ricky, Lola and Tara took all of Ashley's many many fuck ups in stride and actually seemed to be enjoying it.
I have no idea why, that game was a train wreck
After an hour of hell Ricky called it quits for the day.
Which was weird because we usually go well into the night most of the time. Once the game was over Tara grabbed me by the arm and led me to the kitchen.
She asked me what the hell my problem was because it was apparently MY fault the game went so poorly and not the literal child's.
So I let her have it.
I told her it was a stupid idea to let her dumbass sister play with us, that Ashley shouldnt be playing with adults and its stupid to expect us to bow to the whims of a fifteen year old. I told her I never wanted to play with stupid bitch ass of a sister ever again.
I left the apartment after that.
This morning I was removed from the groupchat and all my friends have blocked me
Except for Lola, who has been going off on me in dms all day, calling me a horrible person, transphobic, a bully and a bitch. Every name in the book. None of them are talking to me and Julie, who wasn't even there keeps calling me an asshole and says i should apologize
AITA? I dont think i did anything wrong but everyone else thinks I did
What are these acronyms?
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TRANS MASC COVE TRANS MASC COVE (sfw +nsfw hcs pls,, id love your thoughts)
NO BC NOW YOU'VE PUT THOUGHTS IN MY HEAD N I NEED HIM DESPERATELY
eta while im in the middle of writing: after this i... i can no longer hold onto my fem!cove thoughts. n i am eating up trans!cove like a starving ANIMAL.
tags : SFW + NSFW, transmasc (ftm) cove, switch cove/reader, some mentions of body/gender dysmorphia, im sure theres 1 transphobe walking around sunset bird so the smallest mention of that clown
SFW
i've been seeing a lotta top surgery scar tattoos on my twt timeline lately, and pls some of them i need for myself bc they're so!!!! pretty!!!!
so i can definitely see him getting tattoos there
not because he wants to cover em up, i just think he sees so many flash sheets over time that he's SOLD
mmm i wanna say that fem/afab!cove would have small boobs
or B cups at most
either way, i almost wanna say that his boobs before surgery wouldn't bother him as much unless someone was sexualizing him or he was exercising n his boobs were bouncing too much or smth like that
even then its usually complaints of, "ugh, this bra isn't supportive..." or something like that
ofc he still has his moments
i also think he only binds sometimes, rarely
doesn't do it often since it's often hot outside, or especially if he's sporty, its uncomfortable
(also looked it up just to be sure) but since he's always on the beach its inconvenient/unnecessary to wear if he can't wear it in the water
but like i said i think he'd be pretty flat/small anyway, so i think he's okay
mm definitely doesn't give up having long hair, or wearing the occasional dress/skirt ofc
but will correct one of the old sunset bird residents if they try and say "see honey, it was a phase, you're wearing a dress today!"
also idk abt yall, n this is more of a general thought, but i feel like step 2 cove's impulse control is. deathly low.
so one day, he has long/long-ish hair
and the next he has a mullet, wolf cut, or buzz cut.
he's so chaotic to me pls
now i've had fem!cove on my mind for weekssss now
so i'm not just saying this
but cove is still buff
thick muscly thighs, NICE ARMS. REALLY NICE ARMS
mm so i feel like he looks pretty androgynous or masc anyway
now im projecting here.
but cove has irregular periods, n they're pretty heavy most the time
or lasts awhile (ok im done projecting. sorry cove</3)
also think he deals with cramps (IM SORRY COVE)
i think his period is the biggest trigger of his body/gender dysmorphia too
although i think fem!cove would hate her period anyway altho tbf who doesnt
he'd definitely appreciate some comfort!!!
bring him another heating pad, your comfiest hoodie or blanket and snacks
he's very happy for the thoughtfulness and the company
step 2 cove would definitely be moved by such thoughtfulness... he's in tears
so after the first time it's a trend to spend time together in his bed, watching movies or something while he's cuddled into your side or next to you in a cove-rrito, all sleepy n comfy...
NSFW
had to stop writing the SFW to write this bc i had a thought
cove laid out all pretty... his chest rising and falling and he's all teary eyed as you're between his legs, eating his cunt until he's seeing stars.
pls his cunt with be so sensitive, and he'd be so pretty to fuck
would shake so much too
his thighs quivering so bad he clamps around your hand
you'd have to hold his legs up so he doesn't nearly flatten your head between his thick thighs
"y/n!" cove cries, his hands tangled in your hair and he's trying so hard not to squish your head between his thighs, but your tongue is flat against his sensitive clit, sucking and bullying the poor button while your fingers make a loud, sloppy mess of his hole.
he whines, hips shaking in your hands.
you tighten your grip on his waist, your fingers digging into the flesh, grumbling irritably around his clit but cove just cries out a loud moan and slurred word, torn between your name, a cuss word, and a cry for god.
you pull of his clit, your fingers still curling against that spongy spot inside his sloppy walls. "stay still, you're gonna crush my head..." you start to kiss his thighs, small kisses turning into you sucking deep hickeys into his tan skin, and that turning into biting.
cove gasps for air, his eyes fluttering closed as he squirms.
"fuck, y/n, please..." he mumbles, tugging at the bedsheets.
you stop the assault on his thighs, leaning up on your elbows so you can give cove a kiss, your lips lazily moving together...
anyway... horny aside for a moment<333
mm i could see cove not getting or really wanting bottom surgery
i think trans cove would be pretty comfortable with his body's appearance overall
and he's probably read into it a lot since it's not like he hasn't thought about it, i could just see him probably deciding its not something he wants
ARGGHH HE'D BE A DEMON WITH THE STRAP THOUGH
ahh. cove holding you down or folding your legs against your chest while he slams his hips against yours...
his strap hitting your poor prostate / cervix, he'd coo about how cute your whines are and that you're making him leak
would definitely upset he can't fill you up w cum
especially if you wanna get pregnant, rambles about how much he wishes he could fill you up with his cum again and again and again...
arghhh fuck imma lose my MIND
definitely takes advantage of those squirting dildos
can at least admire how you look oozing milky lube
omfg definitely wakes up all excited to tell you if he dreamed about it too...
has an array of straps
we already know he has a tentacle dildo or two deep in his closet...
yeah tries them out on you
"don't get tired yet, i have one more.. and it has a knot!!!"
he just likes to experiment on you a little~~ bit <333
ohh please tell him he looks handsome/sexy while you're giving him head
he'll die.
FUCK HE'D GO CRAZY IF YOU RIDE HIM TOO I KNOW IT
yeah he's still the same cute, secretly horny, big crybaby pookie <3333 i love him pls
#olba#our life: beginnings & always#cove holden x reader#cove holden#smut#cove x reader#cove x mc#cove our life#cove holden smut#cove holden x mc
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Hannibal
Trigger warning for self harm.
Request is under the read more.
A:N- this is a one off, i will not be doing any other requests on this subject so please do not ask. This is not meant to romanticise or anything, I am writing from past experiences and if any of the themes in this fic are triggering, don't read it. this was requested by @melavoris . Also Thankyou for being so respectful of my boundaries when requesting this fic! 💖
Request: can you do hannibal with a reader who self harms and he sees her healing scars and what he would do.
sorry for this taking so long- I had to take a break from uni and have felt like a complete fucking failure so... anyway, time to crawl out of my self pity hole, here you go! I tried to keep it vague whilst also including the details you asked for.
Warnings: self harm(no actual scenes of this but its the theme of the fic), scars, , hurt /comfort, 18+ only thanku! Female reader.
it's an avalanche of bad luck that ends with you and hannibal in this four room motel, with only one bed of course, stranded in the middle of the country, with a storm brewing for the night.
Jack had sent the two of you to interview someone connected to the case, you and hannibal worked well together, your skills and knowledge complimented each others work.
"I don't have anything to wear" you whined at hannibal, a smirk making it's way across his face.
"I have a spare shirt you can wear" hannibal says, because of course this man keeps spare shirts in his boot.
The shirt is long enough for you to keep a little dignity at least.
"I'll take the cou- you begin to say before he cuts you off.
"No, you will not, the bed is big enough for us both, the couch is big enough for neither of us" he says, matter of factly. But he's right, you could barely sit two people on the couch let alone lie and sleep on it.
"Um, alright" you say, slightly nervous.
"it's okay y/n" , he reassures you, seeming to sense your apprehension.
By the time hannibals out the shower, you've drifted off to sleep, he chuckles quietly at the sight, one leg flung over the quilt, arm shoved under the pillow.
It's not until hannibal gets in the other side and sees the flashes of red across your thigh.
Hannibal gently tugs the quilt until its free, he puts it back over you, tucks you in softly.
The next morning, your awoken by the shower running, hannibal in nothing but a towel.
"I saved you some hot water" he smiles.
There's a bottle of antiseptic on the shower shelf, thats lucky, you thought.
Your packing up your things to finally get out of this shitty room when hannibal gently catches your arm.
"Y/n, are you alright?" He asks, his voice is comforting, soothing, laced with concern.
"Im okay" you say.
"Hm". Hannibal smiles slightly, but he's not satisfied with your response.
Hannibal cares for you, deeply. You and him are close, he hates to think of you struggling on your own.
Hannibals driving, he asks if you'd like to come over for dinner, since there's no point going back to the office this late. You agree, delighted, his cooking is something else.
You make yourself comfortable while he dots about his house.
"Here, I have something for you" hannibal says, there's that deep comforting voice again that makes you feel safe.
You eye him confused, its a rubber band.
"Some of my patients, they've said it helps, in the short term" he says, his eyes never leave yours, but there's no pity or sadness or anything at all like that.
He's holding your hand in his, his grip tight, but not hard.
"It's okay y/n" he smiles, his hand moves to your cheek.
"Thankyou" you say quietly.
Hannibal doesn't let go of you as he speaks again.
"Whatever it is, y/n, I'm here".
"There are many things to try that can help, if you like, I can work through them with you". He adds.
"we don't have to talk, not tonight, but I want you to be safe and know that I'm not going anywhere, I'm here, I'll always be here". Hannibal soothes.
"okay" you nod, as he pulls you into a hug.
He holds you tight, but softly.
"Okay" he agrees.
#hannibal x reader#hannibal lecter x reader#hannibal imagine#hannibal lecter imagine#hannibal fanfic#hannibal fanfiction#female reader#hannibal lecter fanfiction#hannibal nbc fanfiction
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Please more Coco ( my soul is lost to this man) with 6. Are you afraid of me? , 16. Your scars are beautiful, 22. Make me, 32. You’re mine, 38. Beg.( Sorry if there’s a max on prompts but I think they work well together for something super smutty 😇.)
Welcome back Love!!! I can def get you some more Coco!( No prompt limit, feel free to put in as many as your heart desires!). As Always 18+.
Scars
Coco sat watching you as you made drinks behind the bar and chatted with EZ. The two of you had seemed to be building something but whenever he seemed to get to close you darted away. He assumed it wasn't the biker image since you kept coming around the clubhouse. So he figured it was him. Granted he had a reputation but he had never hurt a woman.
You could feel Coco's eyes on you from across the clubhouse. You knew you owed him an explanation about the other night when you two had been making out on the hood of your car. Embarrassment of that night had you dropping the beer in your hand.
"Your suppose to be helping me not making my life harder" teased EZ as he playfully smacked your arm with the towel he had been drying glasses with. "I can leave if you want?" you replied with a raised brow as you moved to pick up the glass. Before EZ could respond Coco's voice rang out. "Yo Boy Scout! Quit flirting and start working" called Coco his jealousy getting the best of him.
"I'm going to pop outside for a bit" you whispered a few minutes later as you gently touched EZ's shoulder. Once he nodded you grabbed your jacket and a beer and headed out the door. Once outside you inhaled the fresh, cool night air. You were lost in your own thoughts when you felt someone grab your arm.
"Are you afraid of me? Is that why you took off and are flirting with EZ? questioned Coco as he turned you to face him.
"What?" you questioned as your brow furrowed at the insanity of both questions. Coco took a breath and repeated himself.
"No, I'm not afraid of you Coco" you replied with a shake of your head. "Granted you did just grab me in the middle of the night but I put that to poor judgment. Same as saying I was flirting with EZ. We both know he's not my type" you replied with a easy laugh.
Coco couldn't help but let out a sigh of relieve and a laugh of his own. "Fair enough" he replied as he let your arm go but didn't move back away from you. "So you wanna tell me what I did wrong the other night that had you running for the hills?" he asked cautiously his eyes searching yours.
You bit your lower lip as you considered his question. This was inevitable and would have to be talked about sometime. "Things were getting a bit too real and shit. I have...I have" you started before you stopped trying to find the right words.
"If your going to say dick. I'm fine with that" offered Coco making you laugh. "No. Its not a dick" you replied with an eye roll.
"I have some pretty ugly scars and its hard to be... intimate.... with them and feel comfortable in my skin" you replied quietly your eyes looking anywhere but at him now.
"The word ugly should never come out of your pretty mouth. Especially not about this art piece" murmured Coco as he ran his hands down your sides and onto your hips as he pulled you closer. "You should let me show you how your scars are beautiful" he continued as his lips ghosted your neck sending spikes of pleasure through your body.
Feeling emboldened by the hands and lips ghosting over your body you ran your hands under his shirt as you replied. "Make me Coco".
Twenty minutes later the two of you were naked in his bed as his fingers, lips and teeth paint hot trails along your skin. You squirm and whimper as he licks along the raised purple scar that runs under your right breast as his fingers skim between your wet folds.
Coco smiles into your skin as he dips two fingers into you, slowly pushing them up into that sweet spot making you clamp around them. "So fucking beautiful" he murmurs as he kisses the jagged scar that runs down the center of your abdomen. You could feel your orgasm start to build when he abruptly pulled his fingers from you.
"Patience" murmured Coco as he kissed his way back up you body until he was hovering over you. You could feel the head of his cock at your entrance and raised your hips slightly. "Nah Mama" scolded Coco as he pushed your hips firmly back down. "You're mine now. Only good girls get this" he stated as he leaned back and teased you by rubbing his head through your wet folds. "Beg" he ordered gently as his lust blown pupils found yours.
"Please fuck me Coco." you pleaded as you pouted. Coco shot you a smirk as he quickly slid himself completely into you making you both moan. Coco grunted as he gripped your hips firmly, pounding in and out of you. All you could do was moan and take it as Coco held you in place beneath him. Without warning Coco hooked your right leg up onto his shoulder making you clench tighter around him. He smirked as he watched your eyes roll back and mouth fall open in a silent scream. "Be a good girl and cum" ordered Coco as his fingers moved between the two of you to pinch your clit.
Within seconds his name was falling from your lips as your body released around him and your body spasmed uncontrollably. Coco thrusted into you a few more times before pouring out his own release as your body milked him. Coco slumped down on top of you as you both panted.
His hands traced along your scars as his lips found yours. "So beautiful" he whispered as he pulled back slightly.
Want more Coco? Click here
Want to make your own request? Click here
#ravennasmasterlist#ravennasrequest#mayans mc#mayans mc fanfiction#coco smut#coco cruz fic#coco cruz imagine#coco x reader#johnny coco cruz#mayans fx#mayans imagine#mayans smut#mayans x reader#mayans mc imagines#coco cruz x reader#coco cruz
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Hi!! Just wanted to start off by saying I love your writing. I enjoy it so much truly. Next I wanted to send in a request with one of the prompts you provided!
How about Rooster x reader with the dialogue prompt - "it's pitch black in here and I can see that you're blushing"
Much love ❣️❣️
drunk in love.
BRADLEY "ROOSTER' BRADSHAW X FEM!READER
cw reader has a hungover headache, thats it. FLUFF. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.
a/n so many ppl wanted a part two!! so here you go!
masterlist | taglist
The first thing you notice when your eyes open is the head-splitting headache you have. You have to close them immediately, as the curtain's in the room weren't shut, meaning that sunlight found its way inside.
The next thing you notice feel is the heavy mass wrapped around your waist and the breathing on your neck that sends shivers down your spine.
Oh God, oh Lord. What happened last night?
The images come to you faster than you expected. Bradshaw—your extremely hot rival, who you definitely don't have a crush on—bringing you home—to his apartment?!—changing your clothes, and putting you to bed. And then you'd done the unimaginable. The only thing you feared more than your superiors. You'd slipped up, calling him to lay down with you and cuddle you.
Holy shit, I'm in Bradley Bradshaw's bed, wearing his shirt, my back touching his bare fucking chest and his arm wrapped around my waist. Holy fuck, holy shit, holy fucking cow poop.
What do I do now? Do I get up? Or do I fall back to sleep? Sleep does sound enticing, but you want to look at his face. Wow—what the fuck are you thinking? Okay. Maybe looking at him for a bit doesn't sound that bad.
You manage to turn slowly and gently to his side, your head tilting up to meet his handsome and peaceful face. It's a rare sight to see him this relaxed. With your job and the stress you're always under, everyone has permanent frowns etched on their faces.
You trace his face with your eyes, taking notes of the faded scar on his right temple, long eyelashes and the curve of his nose. Oh, his lips look so kissable—all pink and plump. Tone it down a bit, you stalker. You've never noticed how perfectly trimmed his pornstache was before now. You have to stop your hand from reaching to touch it, fearing that he'll wake up and find you in this compromising position.
A few serene moments pass, where you hear nothing but your heartbeat echoing in your ears. Your eyes are shut, and you're almost asleep when you feel Rooster move. You pretend to sleep, but your ears perk up, listening to Bradley's every movement.
He walks over to the window, shutting the heavy curtains. You can open your eyes now, for the room has been submerged in darkness. Rooster lays down again, his arm finding your waist again, pulling you impossibly close.
There's silence, and then there isn't. "I know you're awake."
God, his morning voice is so sexy. Jesus Christ, what am I thinking? Wait, did he just speak to me?
"Could feel you staring at me."
Your eyes open, and your breath hitches. God, you hoped he didn't hear that. But of course, he did. You're so close to each other, that he can probably feel your heart beating out of control.
You decide to play it off casually. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
He snorts softly. "Oh, please. It's pitch black in here, and I can see that you're blushing. Can practically feel the heat radiating from your cheeks."
The embarassment is eating you alive. Bradley knows you like him now, and he'll make fun of you for it for the rest of your life. There's no way he'll ever let this go. God, why did you have to turn around? Why couldn't you have fallen back to sleep? Or better yet, gotten up, dressed and run?
"I can practically hear the gears turning in there." You hear the smile on his tone. "I like you too. Thought it was obvious, but I guess not."
"What?"
"Go to sleep, pretty girl. I'll explain when you wake up."
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[ taglist: @roosterschanelslut @maverick-wingman @amnmich @mattyskies @wildcole @gretagerwigsmuse @bespinnn @collaps3r @caldodemazapangourmet @oikawasblueearbud @rip--tide @barryswifey @fanboyluvr @spookys-girl @lonelywitchv2 @j-deimos @heywheresemily @avengersfan25 @piceous21 @sarahjoestewy-blog @n3ssm0nique @mouseymagines @xx-kate-xx13 @vaporub4ever @reading-rosa @marie1115 @dxvanadeline @plaboneruda @awesomebooklover17 @mxlsmith @mak-32 @torresbarnes @depressed-focker @kwanimations @magicstrengthandcourage @graysondanvers @danielmarie @giuliamunson @this-is-a-bad-idea @bordelhoe @melody-death @studentville-struggles @desert-fern @tw1l1ghtlvr @idkwhattodowithmylife67 @kenobiow ]
#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster top gun#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fluff#rooster x reader#rooster fluff#bradley bradshaw fic#rooster fic#miles teller#miles teller x reader#top gun#top gun: maverick#top gun fic#fluff#rivals#frank writes#frank's asks
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𝓐 𝓣𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓞𝓯 𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓮
𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎!- choking, possessive behavior, billy!russo x fem!reader, dark!Billy Russo. Knife play, daddy kink, spanking, guns and knifes, murder, drugs and alchol, (Dom sub dynamics) stalking, overstimulation, squirting, slapping, rough topics. Toxicity (let me know if i miss anything!) not proofread
18+ 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝘿𝙊𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏
Y/n was a women of power whatever she wanted she got. She was the leader of one of the most top gangs in new york which only consists of women. Though one thing was for sure she despised men they were the annoying fly that she tried to get rid of but they kept comming. That all changed when she decided to make an alliance with the one and only Billy
You took a deep breath the smell of gun powder and smoke filled you nose. The smell was all but familiar it made your heart skip a beat and walk with more force. As you walked along many workers bowed down to you. You loved power the one thing you never had as a little girl and you couldn’t help the smirk that spread across your face. A girl with short red hair and glasses that sat on her nose perfectly, spoke as she fiddled with the pen in her suit. “Mrs, i’m sorry to bother you. But your appointment arrived early and he asked if you could hurry up”
“Ah i see” you spoke softly and looked at the girl who was shaking. “Good job, go ahead and take a break i know its a little scary, and remember he can’t and wont do anything as long as im here”
The girl smiled and nodded as she walked away and sat on a nerby couch.
You slowly walked up the stairs carefully listening to the small sounds of heavy feat walking around the room. As you reached the door you slowly opened the door and locked it behind you. Slowly turning to see a guy with rugged clothes and buzzed hair, he had cuts on his face and deep brown eyes that were trailing down your body and up to your face. You stared blankly at him for awhile than slowly sat down on a leather chair crossing your legs. He looked down at your thighs that the slant on your dress exposed to his feasting eyes . “You know were here for business and i don’t like to have my time wasted. Scar face” you spoke with venom as you stared him in the eyes. Billy’s eyebrows furrowed and he walked towards you with a low chuckle. “Listen, sweetheart I’m not here to waste my time either” he turned around and sat down spreading his legs and leaning back.
You scoffed and rolled your eyes before looking back at him. “Before we get down to business i want you to know i hate men and the only reason im talking to you right now is because you have stuff i need and i have stuff you need”
“Trust me princess ive heard all about your hate towards men and how you had such a fucked up life with your poor dad-“ you threw a knife right at the wall it barley touching his face as you walked over to him placing both of your hands on the arm of his chair. “You have no right to talk about him you understand”
Billy just smirked and pulled you closer by the chin with his hand. “Don’t worry princess im not here to hurt you or talk about your shitty life” his voice was stern but spoke with a hint of calmness. That made your heart race and feel your cheek’s turn hot. You both sat there in quiet for a moment before you pulled away and sat down pouring a glass of 1980 rose wine. You looked at him intensely before taking a sip and getting back to the discussion.
The meeting was faster than you thought and billy was more agreeable and not as indecisive as people made him out be.
“See you later sweetheart” he playfully winked and walked out which caused you to roll your eye’s.
A few months went by everything was going smoothly. Billy has moved his crew in your hideout, so you seen him a lot more. You would be lying if you actually didn’t appreciate his presence. He would often talk about his past life, which you related too. But he mostly talked about his “psychologist girlfriend”. You didnt like her and practically wanted to rip her head off. Which led you to this situation right now. You forced yourself to look down at the broken window where her hopeless body laid. She tried to kill you so you fought back which led to her bleeding out on the sidewalk surrounded by random people. You felt your heart thump and blood drip down your face to your eyebrow.
You looked over to see billy with a blank expression than down at the body than back at you. You back up and ran to find your gun. Slowly you crept to the door. “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU! AFTER ALL I DONE YOU DO THIS. YOUR FUCKING BITCH” billy kicked the door open and when he was about to turn a corner you knocked him down. “Heh, im the bitch shes the one who fucking started it! I did you a favor! She was sleeping with other guys billy!” You shouted. “Your a fucking liar” he flipped you over and onto the floor. “Hmft, i caught her in the act and was about to call you but she attacked me, his fucking clothes are over there.” He slowly let go of you to turn and look where an unfamiliar man’s clothes were.
You slowly got up and wiped your eyebrow and the two slashes on your face one on the left cheek and the other on the right corner of your forehead. Billy slowly got up and turned to face you. You stared at him for a second before he ran and put his hands around your throat enough to hurt but not to remove the air from your lungs. He looked into your eyes than at your lips. “Come on bill, are you going to kill me” you smiled before you raised a knife to his throat. “Now why would i do that sweetheart” he slowly leaned in your lips inches apart and the knife slowly creating an almost scratch mark. “Bill-“ he kissed you before you could finish and you slowly let go of the knife before wrapping your arms around his neck. His grip losened on your throat. Sirens were heard and you both stopped before you walked out with billy right on your track.
When you reached the car you started the engine and sped off. The whole ride was silent. “So your just not going to talk” his voice spoke gently. You cleared your throat “theres nothing to talk about.” You pressed the gas peddle going at 90 now. “Sweetheart, i know your lying” he glared at you.
“Look, I don’t got time for this billy” you glared at him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fuck if your going to act like this than stop the car.” You slammed the breaks and looked at him. “Just get the fuck out okay.” He scoffed and open the door slamming it behind him.
One thing was for sure you would never tell him was you were the girl he used to play with the girl with the shitty pedophile of a dad. You slammed you head against you seat speeding to the hideout.
It had been two weeks since the fight you guys had. You hadn’t heard or seen from him since than. You played with your knife examining it, tracing over the edges with your finger tip. Slowly you sat up placing the knife in a secret compartment. Walking out of the room your heels clicking against the wooden floor in the quiet house. Making your way to the kitchen you took out glass of red wine. You looked at the corner of your eye, he was there just staring at you blankly. In his tight black demin jeans with a tight black shirt to match. What you wouldnt do to rip it right of him and leave marks all over his body. His grunt caught your attention and your turned over to look at him than look away.
Not bothering to give him the time of day you walked right past him sitting down crossing your legs. “ah, i see your still mad at me sweetheart” his voice rang in your ears like a soft melody you haven’t listen to in awhile. Ignoring him you took a sip, finally turning to look at him he was already in front of you looking down at you. You slowly looked up. “What are you doing here this late billy. What do you want?” Your voice sounded cruel, you saw the way his jaw clench and he took a deep breath. “ i -i came to say sorry, fuck y/n im so fucking sorry ive been tryna call you but you changed your number so ive been keeping my eye on you..” his confession was quiet but it was loud an clear. Weirdly it made your heart skip a beat at his confession. Normal girls would run away gag and be scared or disgusted that they were being “stalked”. But you weren’t normal far from it. You felt your cheeks get hot and listen to billy mumble for words. “And i just want to be with you. I want to so fucking much y/n” hearing enough you pulled him by the shirt standing up and kissing his lips with so much passion and fire he almost fell over. Slowly he kissed you back moving the stool to push you into the counter.
Your hand went to the back of his neck scratching softly making him groan in response. He pulled your hair to make your mouth open so he could slide his tongue in. You could feel yourself getting wet and your belly make flips. As well as billys hard on. He could hardly take it anymore his jeans becoming to tight. At that moment his hands were touching everywhere. “Fuck i cant take it anymore i need to touch you feel you.. taste you, it’s driving me fucking insane” billy felt like a teenage boy wanting to fuck you right there. He lifted you up and put you on his shoulder dragging you to your room. You laughed at his eagerness with made him slap your ass a few times shutting you up.
He threw you on the bed and just looked at you. You looked so beautiful swollen lips and soft red marks on your neck. Your dress rolled above your plush soft thighs. “Your so fucking beautiful y/n” he rasped and kissed you softly while slowly taking off your dress. you moaned when you felt his knee between your legs grinding against it your core soaking his pants because you forgot to wear underwear.” Billy fuck i cant take it any more.. please do something please” you became a pleading mess not even remembering your self anymore while lust clouded your judgement. Billy laughed above you. Finally finished getting you all naked and bare for his eyes to see. You felt a little insecure hiding your self from his hungry eyes. He make a type of growl sound and lifted your wrists above your head. “ tsk tsk, none of that now i want to see all of this body all of it for me and its so fucking gorgeous so stop hiding it” it felt more of a command than a compliment and a whimper came out of you. “ shh Dont worry daddy will take care of you” he hummed while tying your wrist together with the rope of your dress. You would be mad that he ruined your dress but that was for later.
“Billy please just fuck me now i cant take it anymore” he grabbed your throat and bit your lip making it bleed into his mouth. You whined at the pain but it felt so good. “Thats not my name sweetheart, i only pleasure good girls and you haven’t been so good lately” he softly kisses around your nipples almost feathered like to the point you could barley feel it. He was making you angry with all his teasing and he was doing it on purpose and you knew it. “Bill- Daddy fuck i cant take i need you so fucking bad right just look how wet you made me, i cant take it anymore your the only one that can please me~” your voice was soft full of a seductive tone that made Billy’s ears pick up. “Since you asked so nicely ill give it to you, but you have to follow my rules” he whispered in your ears. You nodded eagerly agreeing to whatever he said.
He slowly kissed down to your thighs leaving bite marks sometimes along the way making you squirm. He slapped your face making you cry a little while he shook his head. You looked in his eyes catching the warning trying to stay as still as possible. He licked. Down your thighs so close to the place you needed him the most.
You where whining for him to lick there. When he finally did a low moan came from him. “So fucking sweet and all fucking mine.” He grumbled while sucking on your clit and prodding your entrance with his fingers. Moans left your lips he was skillful with his actions hitting spots your fingers couldn’t reach licking you like his life depended on it. You felt like you were in heaven. But you couldn’t keep your thighs open no matter how hard you tried. “Fuck daddy t’s too much” you kept squirming. “ mmm i know baby but you got to be still daddy can do something for you but it might hurt okay” he was asking for your consent which you gladly agreed to. He pulled a knife from a nearby desk staring up at you. “All you got to do i keep these pretty thighs open and then you wont get cut, ok princess” he whispered in your ear and nibbled slightly. You moaned in response pleasing billy. He slid down slowly and trace the knife around your nipples. The touch foreign but pleasurable, it felt like a scratch but it didn’t hurt. Slowly he dragged it down to your thighs careful to put light pressure.
When he reached you sweet spot he started his work again giving you beyond pleasure you could imagine. The knife only slightly touching you thigh. Your moans were more than audible and the room was filled with slurp noises. You trued you best to keep you thighs apart and felt your high approaching. “Daddy! Fuck imm gonn-na cum” you almost screamed. Billy moaned in response and continued. Your high washed over you but he never slowed his pace. Making you over sensitive. “Fu- stop it cant take no more” you almost cried. “Just one more baby ok, have to make sure your all prepped and wet” after what seemed like decades you came three times already sore from his torment. He threw the knife aside and came up to kiss you. Your juices still on his lips. You moaned and kissed him back. He rest his head against yours and pulled your thighs around his waist thrusting all of him into you in one push. His eyes rolled back and a low groan came out making you feel butterfly’s.
“Fuck your so tight, made just for me huh,” he slapped your cheek and harshly thrusted up into you. Making you let out a loud mewl. “All for you, fuck fell ssso good” tears were running down your cheeks. And billy started thrusting into you at a fast pace that hit your sweet spot over and over. He whispered dirty words in your ears and looked down at you. He wrapped his hand around your throat still setting a brutal pace. “Fuck look at me. Mmm want to see me little whore all for me!” He felt you clenched at those words and sped up and moved his fingers to your clit. “You like that huh? Being my little whore” he slapped you and you moaned loudly. “Mmgh yess all your daddy. Your little whore.. gonna cum!!” You started shaking feeling an unfamiliar feeling.
“Its ok cum let me feel your juices” he kissed you as you came feeling a flush if juices come out. “Fuck look at that made you squirt so fucking hot” he groaned and released inside of you. You shared a passionate kiss. Flipping you guys over now you on top. Still inside you rolled you hips against him. “Fuck you look so pretty like that baby girl” he grabbed your hims and made you move slowly. “Billy ngh, i need to tell you something.” You stared down at hime while you slowly moved up and down bitting your lips. “Ok baby tell me” he leaned up so now your guys were impossibly close while he sucked on your neck leaving marks. You moaned softly. “ im.. im the girl.. who played with you as a child..” you whispers. He immediately looked up at you staring you in the eyes as he pulled you closes thrusting up into you at such a fast pace your nipples bounced in his face. You moaned loudly as he flipped you over kissing you everywhere. Your face scrunched up in pleasure trying to form words. “Shh. I know your her, i knew for a long time but fuck been waiting for you to say it. Ima give you my kids yeah? Were gonna have a fucking happy family ok?” He moaned in your ears and you just nodded in reply.
“Gonna fill you up now okay?” He started rubbing your clit bringing you over the edge as you saw stars as you both cummed together. He stilled for a moment looking in your eyes. He looked sad and you pulled him in for a hug. “ I’ve done some bad things y/n..” he whispered.
“So have i billy, but that doesn’t matter ok?”
He hummed in response and gave you a soft kiss.
“I love you y/n… i always will” your heart skipped a beat at the confession and your cried a little. His brow scrunched up in worry. And you softly laughed.
“I love you to billy, and i always will”
You both cuddled and enjoyed each others embrace.
You felt safe a feeling that was hardly recognizable.
But one thing was for sure is that your love for each-other was a burning passion with a touch of fire.
#billy russo x female reader#billy russo fic#billy russo smut#dark smut#smut#the punisher#billy russo#ben barnes#ben barnes smut
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Yandere Eddie Munson (9/13)
Word count ; 4.0k
*Edited.
The bats were gnawing at my flesh. However, suddenly, I heard an attempted battle cry break out and one of the bats went flying from me. Tears pricked at my eyes and one arm went to reach for my hero. It was Eddie, holding the stick in hand. We made brief eye contact and I could tell he was scared. The two woman weaved around us, Nancy furiously trying to free Steve. Eddie was dripping and his hair messy. He was oddly slimy too, but it would be a lie that he still didn’t look good.
I realized I was still being choked and that more bats were coming. One swooped toward Eddie, but he walked it anxiously. There was so much grunting and demonic bat screaming. Suddenly, Eddie hit right above my head, and it was like a weight was taken from me. The vine loosened and I pulled it free, tearing the icky flesh at the seems.
Eddie lowered a hand to help me up, but he was suddenly hit by one of the bats. He let out a yelp and was shoved to the ground. However, I scrambled, grasping the vine as it shot out toward his body. I threw the bat away just long enough to give Eddie the chance to stab it with the stick. It ended up spiking through his heart.
He let out a mewl of disgust and threw the bat corpse off. Using one another, we scrambled to our feet. “Son of a bitch —!”
By now, Steve had recovered, using what strength he could to fight back. And I did, too. When a bat dived toward me, I slapped it with the palm of my hand and sent it to the ground, stepping on it. I didn’t like the squishing sound it made as inky juices flew from its body.
And after that, I didn’t hear many others. I looked around wildly as Eddie shakily grabbed my shoulder. Only then did I realize some blood was seeping from my lips, and I wiped it up with the once-intact and white onesie that was now wet, sticky, dirty, and bloody. Everyone paused. We were all panting furiously, and neither Steve nor I were doing so hot.
“Steve, Y/n!” Nancy cried, walking over to Steve.
Eddie was muttering insanity under his breath, and it was slowly escalating. I leaned against him for support as my entire body ached. “Jesus H. Christ!” He threw the oar into the ground, exploding. “What the fuck was that? Are you —“
“I’m… alive,” I panted.
“Okay, okay, uh…” He was so greasy and clearly not doing too hot. However, his arm swept underneath my legs and back and he hoisted me up. By now, I was used to such actions, and I was too tired to convince him to save his strength. My arms looped around his neck and I felt his chest heaving against mine.
“Uh, do you guys think these bats have, like, rabies?” Robin squeaked, having started observing some of the corpses with a dull flashlight.
Everyone turned to her and Eddie’s face fell traumatically. He clutched me closer, gaze devouring ever inch of my injured and scarred torso. Blood seeped from the various claw and scratch wounds and it looked like he was about to have a panic attack.
“What?” Steve asked incredulously.
“It’s just that rabies are, like, my number one greatest fear. A - and I think should get you two to a doctor soon because once the symptoms set in, it’s too late. You’re already dead.”
I groaned loudly and hit my head against Eddie’s shoulder. My hands intertwined with his wispy locks and Eddie was just on edge from what Robin mentioned. Suddenly, we heard more monsters howling from a distance. Eddie tensed, and before anyone else had awoken from their stooper, he took off.
Everyone else gasped and made a mad dash for the woods. I bounced in his arms, watching from over his shoulder as the bats swooped toward us. It was clear that there was no solution but to run. We dipped and died over huge, throbbing vines as a high pitched scream emitted from Eddie.
“I swear to god, I will be so pissed if you died before the wedding!” he exclaimed the top of my lungs.
“That’s oddly insulting!” I shouted in return, letting out some pained grunts.
And, for a while, we ran. The forest was dense and the bats swarmed above us. We kept running until we stumbled upon a semblance of Skull Rock. It was funny to me how this place was so similar to Hawkins. The name, upside down, was fitting for it.
When we came up to the rock, Eddie slid underneath it athletically. It was tall enough to fit us all and Eddie ended up falling back on his butt. Somehow, the man had outran our companions, even while carrying me. I couldn’t help but think he’d make a good athlete once we got out.
Steve and Nancy huddled with Robin while Eddie set me down against the back of the rock while sitting to my side. I grunted in pain and clutched at my stomach, trying to nub the pain. The blood was beginning to clot and harden and that made it feel much worse.
I tried to steady my breathing. Eddie was wide-eyed and terrified. He balanced his ruching form on my burning thighs while I hugged my chest, squeezing my tearful eyes shut. Everyone was trying to be as silent as possible as the screeches dipped and circled over the rock. I thought that we lost them but I was starting to wonder.
Robin let out a quiet gasp as everything fell silent. “Oh… okay.” She slid out and rose to her feet.
“That was close” Nancy panted.
“Yeah.”
“Too close,” Eddie’s voice cracked.
Eddie tried helping me to my feet since everyone was deciding to stand up. However, when I did so, I let out a muted yelp and collapsed against him. Steve was in the same boat, his form falling against the rock wall. Eddie cursed loudly and grabbed my shoulders fearfully.
“Jesus,” Nancy cried.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Steve insisted.
“Me too,” I choked.
“Okay, no, you are not,” Eddie fussed. “Um - okay. Just - just sit back down again, will ya?”
Robin was hovering outside, waiting for each of us. Eddie and I were in our own world, though, because I could only focus on him. I gasped in pain as I sat down agains the rock. Only then did I become aware that the onesie was now a “twosie” because now, the entire midsection was missing and what was left of the top was the hoodie and one sleeve. Everything else was exposed, and even some of my bra was hardly intact. The onesie was only held to the top half by a few straggling strips of fuzz.
“Fuck, that doesn’t look good.”
“How rude,” I quipped, only to be interrupted by a cough.
Eddie moved my arms to my side and began prodding the wounds. There were a few mangled scars, but most important, still dripping fresh blood, was a deep hole in my torso. I gasped quietly, tears brimming in my eyes. I had to look away as Eddie fiddled with his outfit. He tore off a long strip of his Hellfire shirt.
“Sit up for a second, sweetheart,” he requested shakily.
I did so, releasing a quiet grunt. I noticed that Robin was pacing worriedly between the two pairs. Eddie wrapped the makeshift bandage around my waist before pushing me gently back against the rock. He ties it up over the wound itself and the entire cloth soaked in blood. It was once white and now, it was reduced to nothing but maroon.
I let out a sigh of relief, even though a few tears still escaped. Eddie was attentive and noticed, cupping my cheeks and placing a chaste and momentary kiss on my nose. Even in the dismal environment, I realized my heart was racing and I was embarrassed once again.
“Here. Wear this, sweetheart,” he instructed, pulling off his leather jacket. That left him in a crop-top tee-shirt and his denim jacket. I frowned in concern, but I knew there was no convincing him otherwise. I slipped it on and it felt nice. It was oddly wet, but it had a certain scent that I couldn’t help but recognize as Eddie’s.
“T - thank you, Eddie,” I muttered.
“Let me help you, uh, up, okay?”
I nodded, wrapping my arms around him. He held me up and I limped beside him, deciding now would be the best time to spit out a glob of blood from my mouth. Eddie visibly flinched and his nose scrunched, which I almost found humorous.
When we emerged from the cage, Eddie bit hit lip and abandoned my side for but a moment. He was fairly agile, hopping onto one of the rocks. I became nervous as he began clawing his way up. He grunt and lost slipped when he made it to the top, but he stabilized himself.
Steve and I were standing next to each other by now as two severely injured victims. In the distance, lightning struck and the sky lit up in red. Eddie was entranced, barely glancing back at us. “So, hey, uh… this place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?”
“Pretty much,” Nancy answered. Eddie rotated his body just enough so that his gaze could be glued to my hunched, labored form. He was about to jump down, when Nancy suddenly panicked. “Wait, watch out for the vines. It’s all a hive mind.”
“It’s all a what?”
“All the creepy crawlies around here,” Steve explained. “They’re, like, one or something. Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.”
Eddie pursed his lips and nodded. “Shit.”
“But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people?” Robin asked carefully.
“As far as I understand it, yeah.”
Eddie had slid back to my side and was quick to hold me up again. It was comforting. However, that wasn’t what I was focused on. It was like a lightbulb went off inside my head. “Hey, so theoretically, my room is the same?”
Robin, who had something else on the tip of her tongue, waited for me to continue. I bit my lip in momentary thought as everyone’s gaze was glued to me. I rubbed my hands against my upper arms.
“So, uh, hypothetically, we could go to my house, right?”
“I don’t think now is the time to change clothes, sweetheart,” Eddie muttered.
I shook my head in embarrassment. “N - no, uh, I mean, if it’s exactly like my room, I don’t have much, but I have two handguns, one A.R.-fifteen, and a shotgun, so…”
Eddie tensed and an expression of horror overcame him. Everyone else looked excited, but Eddie started sputtering in terror and… regret? Nancy gasped in realization. “That’s perfect, actually. I have guns in my room, too. Uh, are we closer to your’s?”
“…I believe so.”
“W - wait, hey, Y/n, sweetheart,” Eddie intervened. “Since when, uh, have you had guns in your bedroom?”
I shrugged while everyone else rolled their eyes, screaming ‘this man is stupid.’ “What does it matter to you, Eddie? You’ll never be in my bedroom again. I guarantee it.”
“Can we just get going?” Steve piped up.
It was unanimously agreed and we marched off in the direction of my home. Eddie insisted that him and I trailed behind and also that he carried me. Eddie was tired out and so was I. As soon as my legs left the ground, I wrapped my arms around his neck and played with his fairly fluffy curls now that he was mostly dry. He was still furrowing his brows anxiously and something was on the tip of his tongue.
“How, uh, long have you had said guns, by chance?”
I quirked a brow and giggled dryly. “I’ve had some for a little over a, uh, year. I have two handguns because I have one for Dustin, a - and the others are buried under the bed. Actually, Chance gifted me the rifle for my last birthday! It was very sweet of him.”
Eddie blinked in dismay, and I was still confused as to why. “You seem startled.”
“I couldn’t possible tell you why without seeming like a, uh, creep.”
I blinked, too, and then the realization hit. My jaw dropped and I sent him the dirtiest glare I could possibly muster. I hit his shoulder. “You creep! You’ve looked through my room before, haven’t you? Are you actually a stalker —“
Robin in particular was staring in concern. “Hey, everything good, Y/n? Do you need an intervention —?”
“No, no, we’re good,” Eddie groaned. “She’s just misinterpreting what I said —“
“Have you or have you not looked through my room without permission, creep?”
“I had Dustin’s permission, I swear —“
“Ew, I hate you. Also, I’m starting to be doubtful that Dustin was, in fact there at all. You might actually be delusional, Munson.”
“C - can we just drop this, please? I swear I’m not a, uh, creep. And does it matter, anyways? We have bigger problems, like not letting you die.”
“I’d rather perish right now.”
The man scrunched his nose in embarrassment and the others sent him dirty glares, not wanting to intervene. Steve almost offered to take me from Eddie, but Nancy was keen on that not happening and Steve backed down when Eddie gave him the meanest glare imaginable. I slumped in his arms and leaned against his chest. We were all careful with our steps and progress was slow because the vines we wanted to avoid were literally everywhere. However, when we managed to find the road, it was a straight shot from there.
When we pulled up the my tiny home, I pretty much forced Eddie to drop me, despite his stubbornness. Everyone allowed me to take the lead.
I pushed the front door open. However, it came to me as a shock when I realized my house did not look like my own. Not because of the red, pulsing veins or the general grossness, but because of the small living room’s appearance. Everyone scattered out, and Eddie in particular was slightly baffled. Sitting by the recliner were shattered beer bottles by the dozen. There were very open and exposed drugs tossed around and I could tell people were very concerned.
The place was a mess. And it made me dread going back to the real world, because… the only reason such violent items would be laying around would be because…
He was back.
I sighed and shoved Eddie’s hand off my shoulder when he tried touching me. I hopped over the vines, even with my disgruntled ankle. The only other person - to my knowledge - that as been to my house would be Steve, but at least he wasn’t flaunting it like a certain someone.
When we arrived at my bedroom, I tried pushing at the door. It took a moment, but it finally gave. I did not expect to be wrought with even more horror, though, and I was literally being stalked by demon bats.
“Oh my god. What?” was all I could muster.
“What, sweetheart?”
Before I could slam the door in their faces, everyone filed in. Eddie was having a goddamn field day while the others found amusement in my embarrassment. Lining my dresser mirror wasn’t selfies or pictures of Chrissy or of my boyfriend - it was Eddie. And some even had pink hearts and smiling faces. And on my bedroom desk, my diary was open. This genuinely couldn’t be real.
In my shame, I went over to the dresser mirror and began tearing at the photos. This couldn’t possibly be my current home. This - I hadn’t -
“Hey, u - uh, sweetheart, care to explain? Was this also for the, uh, photography club?”
I knew, that even amidst the blue fog, my face was darkened with a permanent blush. Eddie was right behind me and as I tried desperately to tear them from my wall, his hands stopped me, pushing my hands against the glass. I felt his body heat against my back and he pushed me against the dresser. I tried digging my hands into the photo, but Eddie held them flat.
“Listen, if I tell you you’ll just get smug —“
I felt his curls press against my cheek. Before he could get a word, I heard Steve and Robin unanimously shut the door because clearly none of the others wanted to see this. I didn’t blame them, but I would’ve preferred they stay for the sake of pest control.
“So-o-o, you do reciprocate the feelings and you are just trapped in a relationship —“
I grit my teeth, interrupting,” N - no! Don’t think anything about this. This isn’t my current room and you know that. I should’ve realized when I saw the state of the living room. This… this my room from sophomore year, a - and I admit I liked you, but I’m —“
“You liked me in sophomore year?” he bellowed in disbelief, pressing against me even further. “L - let me get this straight. You, an angel from the heavens above, had a crush on me at th - the same time I made it known I had a crush on, uh, you, and you went for Chance? Chance! Seriously!”
I scowled and forced my body to turn, although that only pressed us chest to chest. Eddie’s almost angry orbs were boring into mine, and his hand came up to grip my jaw, making sure I could turn away. My nails dug into the ledge and my heart beat erratically within my chest.
I could barely stutter,” I - in my defense, h - he asked me to the fall formal, and I accepted, and we really got along from then… You just asked me to the formal about a, uh, day late?”
Eddie’s shoulders fell and he almost seemed hurt. A frown spread across his face. “How, uh, long?”
“For… what?”
“Did you like me?”
I bit my lip, finally casting my gaze away. “D - does it even matter? Y - you aren’t supposed to still like me —“
“Then why do you still like me, sweetheart?”
I felt him draw closer, and his nose tilted pressing against mine. Our lips were inches apart and I hated that, still even after all this time, I wanted to close the gap. My lips quivered. With every passing second he drew nearer.
And then just as I felt his lips ghost over mine, I tilted my head away. Eddie looked peeved, staring at me through half-lidded and seductive eyes. Before he could comment on my reluctance, I finally answered,” I don’t.”
“Sure. Then, uh how about this? When did you start liking me?”
I gulped preparing for the worst. “…It may or may not have been since eighth grade when I first saw Corroded Coffins and I - I just… I liked what I heard, I guess. Is that acceptable?”
It was like Eddie lost all of the breath inside his body. Any negative emotions dissipated into a dreamy daze. It was like he was melting before me, because slowly but surely, a grin grew to his face and his cheeks deepened with a blush. He was so happy. It was like everything I else I said about surely not liking him anymore when through one ear and out the other.
Maybe the only reason he’d liked me for so long was because he knew.
He knew I was bullshitting about not still liking him.
I could never admit it, though. Chance would go crazy if found out.
And, besides, it didn’t matter if I had a side crush. I loved Chance and he loved me. Not even Eddie Munson could change my mind.
“Curse my luck,” he chortled. “Just one day made a difference, huh? Man… we could’ve been smooth sailing if I was just a day early. I guess it doesn’t, uh, matter, though, as long as the result is the same, right?”
“I don’t have a thing for you anymore, Munson.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”
Suddenly, I heard something. It was a vague, muffled voice, but it was certainly my brother. Right? I gasped and pushed him away. Eddie let me, trailing behind me loyally. The others burst into the room again, just as stunned. The cogs seemed to be turning in their brains, as though they knew something.
“Did you uh, find the guns?” Robin asked awkwardly.
“No. This is literally my room and house from the beginning of sophomore. It’s like we went back in time!” I tittered.
“Ooh, that must burn, Munson,” Steve snickered.
“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Eddie sneered in distaste.
Nobody was able to ask anything else to clear the air when suddenly I heard it again. And it was definitely my brother. I pushed them aside and ran into the hallway. “Dustin! Dustin?” Everyone came chasing after me but I paid them no heed. “Dustin can you hear me? Hello?”
“What are you doing?” Nancy hissed.
“I heard him!” I insisted. “Didn’t you hear that?”
Everyone paused and I could tell they were trying to give me the benefit of the doubt. And then, loud and clear, I heard it. And so did they. “That brings us to the question you first raised…”
I began searching, calling his name. I even threw open the curtains, peering into the backyard. Eddie made sure to follow me every step of the way, even more so than normal. Thank god we were trapped in an interstellar dimension on the verge of death because that would be the only thing that wold possibly make Eddie forget about what just happened and what he just found out.
I did not still like him that much.
“Alright either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douchebag,” Steve muttered indignantly.
“Will found a way.”
“What?”
“Will,” Nancy elaborated. “He found a way to speak to Joyce through the lights!”
Eddie and I stood there, baffled. We knew to let the experts deal with it as the people began running around trying at every possible lamp. Even Robin knew more about it than me. However, it didn’t take long, because Steve’s age was trained on the overhead light.
“Guys? You seeing this?”
Lo and behold, emitting from it, was glowing red particles. It sparkled almost, amidst the world of dark and dreariness. Eddie urged me closer to see. It was cool. I was so enamored, reaching up toward it. I didn’t even pay attention to my hand, which was intertwined with Eddie.
“Does anyone know morse code?” Nancy inquired.
Eddie’s hand pulled away momentarily. Everyone else was quick to say no, but the man was lost in thought.
“Wait, does S.O.S count? Is that… is that good?”
A small grin pulled at my lips. “Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, I’ve never been happier that you have such niche interests.”
He sent me a wink and the rest of us stepped away. Eddie although with a firm smile, began pulsing his hands near the light. It kept flickering, and from the other side where Dustin was, we could tell they noticed.
“S… O…. S.” There was pregnant pause. “Hey, uh, remember when I said they wouldn’t be stupid enough to go through Watergate? I overestimated them.”
#yandere#x reader#x y/n#self insert#yandere slashers#yandere x reader#yandere stranger things#eddie stranger things#stranger things#netflixs#show#stranger things s4#eddie x reader#eddie munson#yandere eddie munson#eddie munson x reader
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Febuwhump Day 9 - alt. Lightning Strike
I legit couldn't think of anything to do for bees that wasn't too similar to something I've already written, so here's this instead.
TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 1,063
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“What kind of ugly ass scars are those?”
Denki hides his body for a reason.
“It looks like you were struck by lightning, is it from your quirk, Kaminari?”
They’re ugly, he knows they are.
“Kaminari, can you move? Your skin is freaking me out.”
People with mutant quirks are treated well at UA, especially the powerful ones like Shouji and Tokoyami. Physical differences mean little to nothing when you can kick anyone’s ass who gives you crap.
But Denki’s scars are different. They’re completely his fault.
Every time he goes stupid with overexertion, his quirk fires off at random intervals. Since he’s not conscious to prepare for it, it creates these lines in his skin. Lichtenberg figures, they’re called.
They’re raised, dusty pink lines on his skin, wrinkled and perpetually tingling. They stretch out all over him, centered on his inner forearms and chest, where his quirk focuses on output. They follow a senseless pattern, weaving across his skin. He used to have a lot of freckles on his body, but many of them have been overtaken.
When new electricity pulses through them, they get hot and irritated for days after. Denki has to sleep sitting up, leaning over his giant Pikachu plush. It’s tear-stained, looking just about as miserable as he feels on those nights.
He changes in the showers in the locker room, hiding away from his closest friends. People he trusts with his life.
Bakugo always looks at him weirdly when he refuses to take off his long sleeves. The guy has some pretty gnarly scars himself; All won in hard-fought battles. Each one tells a story of badassery that Denki could never dream of reaching.
Just yesterday, during training, he’d overworked himself again. The figure going up his back took the beating and crawled up just past his costume collar. Good thing Todoroki has single-handedly made turtlenecks come back in fashion.
He’s angry at his weakness and frustrated at his lack of control.
Shoving his costume in its case, he tugs his long-sleeved sweater down self-consciously.
A gruff voice calls his name, and he curses when the sudden movement his neck makes sends an arrow of pain down his back.
“Hey man,” He smiles, “what’s up?”
Bakugo’s eye twitches, and before he can so much as breathe, Denki is dragged to the empty offices in the gym.
“Uhh,” He falters, tripping at the last step before he’s gently (for Bakugo) shoved into a wall.
“Roll up your sleeves.” His classmate sneers, crossing his arms and glancing to the door as if expecting someone to interrupt and ruin whatever intervention is happening.
Denki frowns, tucking his hands behind his back and trapping them against the wall. “Kind of a weird request, dude. Do you mind explaining before I strip for you?”
Bakugo flushes, eye-twitching, “You’re stalling, fuckface. I’m not- fuck,” He sighs, glancing to the door again, “I’m not letting you walk out of here if you’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“Oh,” Denki blinks slowly. He’s not wrong, but he’s only doing what they all do during training, “It’s just collateral. I’m fine, Bakugo.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
“What the fuck about cutting yourself is collateral, you fucking moron!”
“Cutting my-” Denki mumbles, looking down at his arms. Is that what Bakugo thought?
Huh.
He looks up at Bakugo suspiciously, “Are you the one who stole my exacto knife and my scissors? Bakugo, I’m not doing that. It’s just scarring from my quirk, like Kirishima’s eye.” He sits on that for a second, “Well, I guess Midoriya’s arms would be a better analogy.”
He brings his arms forward and tugs his sleeves up, exposing his wrists for Bakugo to inspect. “See? From the electricity.”
Bakugo squints, aggressively taking one of his wrists as he’s been given a time limit.
“How come you cover them then?” He grunts, letting go when satisfied.
Denki rolls his eyes, “They’re ugly, Bakugo. I’m not blind.”
“Well, as long as you fuckin’ know. Loser.” Imaginary Bakugo jeers, shoving Denki into the wall again and exiting swiftly… Probably giving him a middle finger.
In reality, he just kind of… stands there.
After a few moments of silence Denki is far too weirded out to stay quiet. “Uh… dude?”
Bakugo blinks, looking back down at Denki’s arms and grabbing at one to pull up to his face again. He investigates them, eyes darting over the skin, where the thickest of the figure is. “It’s not ugly.”
Um, what?
“Um, what?”
Bakugo tsks at him, waving his own arm in his face, “I said they’re not ugly. Where’d you even get that idea?”
Denki sweetie, Haru’s mom said your arms scared him, so you have to keep the jacket on for the whole play date, okay?
What are you, fifty? What’s with the gross wrinkles?!
Do you, like, wear a full surfer suit when you swim?! If I were you I wouldn’t let anyone see me without a shirt!
No, you sit by him! If he shocks me I’ll look like that!
Denki sighs, leaning back against the wall, “Everyone says that, dude. Since my quirk manifested and I went stupid for the first time.”
Bakugo’s nose scrunches like he smells something bad, “They’re fuckin’ stupid. You’re just like anyone else with scars. Everyone in our class has some, it’s part of the damn job.”
“Yeah, but mine are-”
“Normal, dipshit.” Bakugo interrupts, waving his hand at Denki, “If anyone in our class says shit, I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em. Only thing ugly about you is your stupid face. Always smiling. It’s gross.”
Denki can’t help but blush in response. He thinks that’s the closest Bakugo’s ever come to complimenting him! Even if it was just followed by an insult.
“Aw, thanks Kacchan,” He grins when the tips of Bakugo’s ears pinken.
“You’re fucking stupid. Are you gonna quit moping now?”
Denki nods, grinning eagerly, “You bet, and I’ll show some skin just for you!”
Bakugo flushes bright red, “Wh- that’s not! Fuck you!!”
Denki giggles, skirting around his fuming classmate before he blows up the office they’ve borrowed. “See you, Kacchan.”
He pauses by the door, catching his hand on the frame, “And thanks, by the way, I appreciate it.”
Bakugo shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Whatever dunce face, I better see you in the locker room tomorrow.”
“You know it!”
#bullying#self esteem issues#fluff and angst#emotional hurt/comfort#s3lf h4rm reference!!!!!!! none actually in the fic!!!!!!!!!#sh mention#scars#Lichtenberg figures#as per usual#denki kaminari#bakugo katsuki#bakugo katsuki is a GOOD FRIEND#character redemption#denki needs a hug#also as per usual in my fics#confidence boost#febuwhump#febuwhump2024#whump............ kind of........#febuwhumpday9#morgue's febuwhump 2024#llyn writes shit
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End of Year Fic Recs!
I got tagged by @camille-lachenille for this, and boy I havent had time to read fic in a hot minute but this was literally the perfect opportunity to go through my ao3 and tumblr bookmarks again! Also I feel really bad that I couldnt get 5 for the first 3 categories, so pls dont take it personal if I forgot. My tagging system is a mess and idk if it works but if you want more tumblr writing recs go into the "writing that has me foaming out the mouth like a rabid dog" tag I have at the top of my account.! There's so many good drabbles and ficlets i couldnt possibly name them all! Also i likely could have tagged other author's tumblr accs but i didn't feel like looking bc I'm exhausted. I love these all sm
Also I cheated with the self rec bc one is from 2022 but I didnt want to rec only my OC lol
Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).
Beneath a Boundless Sky by @runawaymun — ongoing — Rating (M)
Summary: Elrond’s two new wards both struggle to feel at home in Rivendell. The wounds from their slavery in King Frumgar’s court are still fresh, and the scars are deep -- and they’re not the only ones. Maglor is home at last, but each day he lives he is haunted by guilt and grief. Elrond is nothing if not patient, and he is certain that given enough time in Rivendell, all three will heal.
I am always frothing at the mouth at OCs and world building and this work *and the prev work/part 1 of the series* is SO good
dare you see a soul at the white heat? by millyfaraway — ongoing — Rating (M)
Summary: Lómion is reembodied, but struggles to cope. His uncles try to help.
BABY BOY GETS FAMILY THERAPY ABBY BOY SLOWLY GETS CONFIDENCE AND PUPPY LOVE SOBBIG ITS WHAT HE DESERVES anyway go read
The Last Heir of Fëanor - Part Two by Astrance — 87k — Rating (T)
Summary: This is the second part of the tale of the surviving child of Celebrimbor of Eregion and how she fared through the Ages of the world. From the Fall of Ost-in-Edhil to Imladris and the vastness of Second Age Eriador, the fight against Sauron seems never ending. Plans have been set in motion across the Misty Mountains, but, in Lindon, many tasks await.
Have I mentioned how much I love OCs? This is literally one of the best OCs I've read, flaws and all, and the way the whole thing is written is chefs kiss. Cant decide if I'm sweating from the amount of sobbing I've done with this work *and the previous/first part* or because of the delicious angst.
and rain will make the flowers grow by @swanmaids — 800 — Rating (G)
Summary: Glorfindel and Idril; on the Helcaraxë, in Nevrast, in Gondolin.
THEM. THEM. THEM. That's all I have to say. bUT THEM!
Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.
your veins are empty of dust by @echo-bleu — 1.7k — Rating (G)
Summary: Anairë finds her late one day in her workshop, surrounded by slabs of stone larger than her. Nerdanel is hammering forcefully at one of them, the barest hints of an elven shape already taking form in the marble. Bitter, stinging tears run down her cheeks and into her collar, and her arms ache with exhaustion.
The body is only barely sketched, but the face is already chiselled, smooth curves and angular cheekbones.
Fëanáro emerges out of the marble, looking like he’s about to take life.
(Across the sea, her sons lead a funeral.)
Frothing. Gnawing. I love the writing. The angst. Fucking mourning. Gimme all and then hurt me some more.
Babysitting #01 by @lordgrimwing — more chaps likely, atm oneshot
Excerpt: "She brought her children."
"Who did?”
"That Elwing woman, the pro bono case Celegorm talked me into."
Modern!scenario fix with Exhausted!lawyer!maedhros. He's tired and that's very sexy of him. Maglor is secy. They all are. Idiots. But very sexy. Elrond and Elros best boys. No argument.
Dreams of Doom by @camille-lachenille — 3.8k — Rating (M)
Summary: “She runs in the dark, alone. Where her feet carry her, she knows not, and her heart is heavy with dread. Someone - something - is watching her.”
Niënor from the moment she arrives in Brethil to her death.
THE ANGST THE LOVE THE TENDERNES THE FORESHADOWING I AM BITING THIS BC I CANT FIND GLASS TO CHEW.
Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies.)
Those Peaceful Hours by SpaceWall — 3.9k — Rating (T)
Summary: At the end of the Third Age, faced with her impending return to the home she left before the sun, Galadriel seeks out the one person who will understand her fears and grief.
It's so well written and the premise as a whole is so great!. Compelling and Galadriel characterisation is just so very sexy to me.
Their oath will drive them, and yet betray them by musing_and_writing — 2.2k — Rating (G)
Summary: Elrond had hours to spare, and if Maglor wished to spend the short time they had together reminiscing, he would not blame him for it. As Maglor began singing, Elrond settled himself across the clearing in his own bed of autumn flowers. Maglor’s voice resounded in the clearing, clear and powerful, just as it had upon his fortress’s ramparts as he pushed back Morgoth’s forces with a Song, just as Elrond assumed it must have echoed before the poisoning of the Trees in his family’s halls as Feanor crafted his cursed jewels.
Hehehehehe cryptid mf with a heart I love it the angst the tenderness it's just so *holds gently* while also *bodychecks maglor*
Double The Baggins, Twice The Took by fogisbeautiful — 138.5k — Rating (T)
Summary: The Baggins twins, Briallen and Bilbo, have spent their whole lives taking care of each other. So when the world outside makes an (uninvited) appearance, only one thing is certain. Not for wizard or king or mountain or dragon will the two of them part. Not if they have one word to say about it.
And besides, as Gandalf points out: It never hurts to have a spare burglar on hand.
I'm a sucker for Thorin x hobbit, and you give me a fic with bilbo's sister who's so lovely characterized? I'll kiss you sloppy style
The One With All The Birds by clothonono — 46.5k — Rating (G)
Summary: Would it never end? Would there always be one more mother standing on the shore, looking out to sea, full of a grief made more terrible by hope?
Elwing and Nerdanel in Valinor in the Fourth Age; a story about children coming home.
I think swanmaids recc'd this to me once upon the time when it hadn't been finished and I want to kiss their forehead for it. It's so good! Go read bc I lick my screen every time I re-read it.
Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.
Bitter end — 6.4k — Rating (T)
Summary: Maglor has one brother left.
Both have one more fight in them.
The ghost you dress up as (knows how to haunt) — ongoing — Rating (M)
Summary: Maedhros was not the first Finwëan to be captured and taken to Angband, nor did he remain there the longest. Ranyatinwë, twin of Caranthir, was the first.
She escapes.
(Series) Old Maggie Took — 7 works — 402k — all Rating (G)
Summary: The headcanon about Maglor, second son of Fëanor, lives hidden in the Shire? Yes.
#tag game#here's the tag for even more tumblr fic recs#writing that has me foaming out the mouth like a rabid dog in a positive way#i hope it works somewhat bc its been a fucking pain to find it with how broke the system is#thank you for the tag besties!
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Kix x Reader
Kix met his darling at a liquor store.
She was working when he had been planetside on leave.
What got his attention was the huge, fuck off scar on her forearm. He whistled, impressed by the size of it.
'That's quite the battle scar you have there'
He told the young lady. She looked at him, her eyes bored as if she'd had this conversation many times before.
'Yup. The glass table put up quite the fight'
Kix was confused. Glass doesnt leave a scar like that.
'What happened, if you dont mind me asking? I just mean, that's no glass cut'
The woman just shrugged.
'Eh. A friend and me got drunk one night, and I mean blackout, wake up on a roof off planet kind of drunk. From what I'm told I fell onto a glass table and got cut up really bad. So my friend, in all her inebriated genius suggested we cauterize the wound s-'
'That's not how that works, that's not how ANY of that works! You should have seen a doctor!'
The woman rolled her eyes at Kix.
'Well I know that NOW, but by the time I came back around i had already taken a hot knife to my arm.'
'Hot knife?'
'We heated a pocket knife over a lighter until it was red. And for your information we couldnt have gone to a hospital if we wanted to. Its way too expensive and I wasnt ready to take out a mortgage for some stitches.'
Kix was stunned. Was medical help really that expensive for civvies?
'You...cant afford medical care?'
'I can barely afford to eat most of the time.'
The girl had long finnished putting his items through and bagging them.
Kix was about to leave when he turned back, writing something down on his receipt.
'Here. This is my com, I'm an army medic. If you need medical help again, please just call me. Do not attempt to fix yourself up again. Your lucky you didnt die of infection from that.'
Y/N half heartedly took the receipt, fully expecting some sort of innuendo. But none came.
'Oh that's nothing. You should hear about some of the other shit me and my friends have had to do'
'I get the feeling I'd rather not know. I'll see you around'
Kix left the store. Y/N felt a little unsettled.
She was used to people pointing out her scar and stupidity, but something about that man unnerved her. She looked down at the paper.
Kix, his name was.
Y/N crumpled up the receipt and threw it in he bag.
'Ah well, he's probably just trying to get into my pants'
Life went on and Y/N eventuallybforgot about Kix, until one night a few months later.
Y/N had gotten a few days off of work and her and a friend had decided to walk down to the 24/7 convenience store for some food. It was pretty late at night, but both her and her friend knew the area well. It was well lit and the people on the street familiar.
But tonight there was a drunk driver about.
Y/N had just come out of the store, her friend beside her, closest to the road when a speeder tore around the corner, cleaning Y/N and her friend up and leaving her cut up and dizzy on the footpath, but her friend on the road, her bones twisted at an unnatural angle.
Desperately, Y/N ran to her side. Digging through her bag looking for her come and anything that may help her when she came across the receipt from kix.
Y/N wasnt thinking straight when she called him. She knew she shouldve called an ambulance but at this point refusing professional help was reflex and she wasnt in a clear state of mind to resist her instincts.
When Kix picked up his com, he wasnt expecting to hear his darling on the other end, panicked and breathing hard.
'KIX, kix, is that you? I need help, quickly. Are you on coruscant?'
'Yeah, yeah I'm here darling, what's wrong?'
'We've been hit by a car near our place! My friend and I. I'm okay but shes all twisted up and I dont know what to do. Please come Kix, she looks real bad and I dont even know how to help her and she might die and...'
'Y/N! You need to stop. I'm on my way there, just keep an eye on her breathing and make sure nobody attempts to move her!'
'Thank you, thank you so much Kix. Please hurry'
Kix hung up the line. Y/N never once wondered how he knew where she lived, but she didnt care. He was there in record time and he brought the good stuff. Bacta, and the strongest painkillers the army had to offer. He had brought his friend with him, who had later introduced himself as Jesse.
He diverted the traffic and alerted the head of the coruscant guard about the situation.
An ambulance pulled up and Kix loaded Y/N's friend on board, reassuring Y/N that she wouldn't have to pay. That this was a favour a friend owed him. As they drove, Y/N noticed two things.
One, that Jesse was showing a little too much familiarity for her friend, especially since Y/N knew they hadn't met before.
And two, they werent heading to a hospital, they were heading towards the GAR's space docks, where their fleet was anchored.
'Where are you taking us?' Y/N questioned kix. He turned to her, his eyes soft.
'We are taking you two somewhere you'll be safe and out of harm's way. She'll get the best medical attention.
Kix raised his hand to her face, gently tilting it up to examine her imjuries.
'We've been doing some digging, Jessie and I. You two have been through alot together, havnt you, poor thing.
I'm so glad you called. Me and Jessie want to bring you somewhere you'll never have to be hurt or scared again.'
Y/N was horrified.
She pushed kix away and tried to make a break for the speeder door. But his reflexes were superior to hers.
He caught her around the middle before she could even reach the door handle.
Jesse handed him a needle and Kix brought it to Y/N's neck.
'Shhhhh, shhh, Y/N, it's okay sweet girl. Were not going to hurt you.'
Kix injected her, Y/N's vision going blurry almost immediatly.
The last thing she heard was kix whispering in her ear.
'I'm gonna take good care of you, sweet thing'
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In regards to Dolly, was she just found? Did Artemis procure her by some unholy means or more just pure happenstance end up discovering her and then go, yes, mine, mine now, love this abomination against human existence, takin’ her home naming her Dolly and giving her all the things because how can he not when she’s that adorable. But also like is there a plan for her beyond grow and become what you wish, as I end up thinking, if she doesn’t have a focus like Artemis, will she not just become the greater danger if/when Kass puts a bullet in his head. Or is she like a hidden sleeper that if one could look beyond the lens of vengeance for a hot minute one might see that Artemis? Likely not the worlds worst possibly enemy to have for as absolutely wretched he is. If I’m interpreting Dolly’s bio correctly.
(tw- implied child abuse--and no not by Artemis)
Ho, okay so. To explain how Artemis got her means I have to explain Dolly’s entire thing in full, so sit back because this is going to get into some world building and cosmic nonsense.
(Side note: I love how every time someone asks about how Artemis got Dolly, it’s ‘WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO’ and ‘DID HE STEAL HER’ to which the short answer is no, this is very much a ‘I have fucked my self into a situation I can not fuck my self out of’)
So Eua’s creation and its many Elder Gods are shrouded in mystery. What’s known is at some point many eons ago, the elder gods that had physical manifestations had some kind of battle with each other and it reformed the planet. Some elder gods vanished, some supposedly went to sleep, and some dissolved and became one with the planet. The battles or perhaps the bodies themselves left behind pockets of scars, deep tainted holes that corrupting the land and creatures near it, becoming deadly to most other beings. Somehow, humanity sprung out of all this and built their world off what could be the very remains of their gods. Cities built on what could be giant chairs, expose hands, only temples, skulls, and arms. Humanity having to constantly fight and form their world against strange giant beasts that jump from endless festering holes, eventually uniting under one flag to battle against them. This is the climate that society on all fronts was based on with Eua. There are gods, there is some semblance of magic or power left over from them, and there are monsters that will kill you if you wander too close to these uninhabitable lands, if nature doesn’t kill you first. Hell, it’s why the military split into two fractions: the human fraction and the beast fraction (and yes being aside to the beast fraction is considered the worse of the two).
As a result of all this, religion is a funny thing on Eua. There’s not really a question of ‘is there a god’ because the answer is ‘yeah look out your damn window, I’m pretty sure your Vespa is parked in one’. The questions are more ‘why are the gods asleep’, ‘are they still alive?’ ‘Can they hear us?’ ‘Do they care?’. There’s also the concept of the abstracts of cosmic gods, one that they CANT see but know exist in theory, or the concept of death on Eua, in which most people believe that most souls turn into stars and some souls get stuck on the earth for one reason or another ghosts—and that evil souls rot in an empty abyss until they are rendered down to nothing by sheer weight of oblivion. I want to describe all this because I don’t want anyone to get the idea that religion on Eua is a bad thing or that its an atheist society. There are very much religion, the study of the gods, the respect and belief in the land itself, and they are varied and nuanced just like our world.
And THEN we get to underground cults. Now these guys are the little freaks who want to start playing with shit they shouldn’t. They want to name gods, contact them, harness their powers, even wake them up (which is insane because we’re talking beings that are anywhere from giant leviathans to FORMLESS CONCEPTS BEYOND HUMAN PALE). Some of this can be harmless, the equivalent of like using an oujia board and telling your friends that Jesus just spoke to your and he says buy more nfts. But then there’s the people that hide in what they believe are centers of powers deep underground and out of the sight of society—and some are depicted to the study and deep reflection of their chose god. But others go too far and start using any means to contact them.
(You're probably wondering where Artemis falls in between all this and the answer is none because Artemis doesn't ask for worship of a god, he's specifically demands worship of him. His platform is fuck the gods, I'm hotter and so are you.)
With that I can touch upon one specific cult known as the Cult of the Butterfly. Situated in a cave network and it’s temple carved into solid rock, the Cult of the Butterfly is dedicated to a creator entity known by several names: The Cosmic Weaver, The Reality God and the Butterfly. The Butterfly is a being believed to exist on a higher plane, weaving into reality both time and different worlds. It is one of many creators of gods, but it’s realm is that of sewing all universes into one big tapestry, never meeting but endlessly connected through the same threads and a singular hand. Occasionally, The Butterfly will take a physical form of a butterfly which wings encompass every color and light and fly through its realities. It's believed catching a glimpse of it in it's physical form will give you a glimpse of the scope of the cosmos (why you would want that is anyone's guess, though).
Reasonable, I suppose, that this cult exists except it's main desire isn't to simply worship or by chance see The Butterfly. Members of the cult want to specifically awaken the Butterfly, turn its gaze upon them, and capture it--and they believe the best course of action is to make it listen to them. But listen requires loudness, it requires being so loud the universe can not ignore you. It requires loud, painful, agonizing screeching the likes of which not a single being can simply turn away from.
You see where I'm going with this.
It's here that Artemis, chasing his own pursuit on how to unlock godhood, that he's introduced to the Cult of the Butterfly and the Red Priestress--otherwise known as Phoebe Evans. Call it his own holy pilgrimage, he had gained access through another cult he had been studying with and was allowed to look through their archives under Phoebe supervision. Now the thing is about Phoebe, without giving too much away, is she that she's her own brand of awful. A spoiled brat whose endless drive for ego and power drove her from being just a high school mean girl into a full blown tyrant of her own cult. Where Artemis is a bottomless pit of hatred, Phoebe is overflowing fountain of egomania.
Turns out, they were into that. So, ya know, they fucked. I mean they didn't like each other but were they turned on? Yes, absolutely. Sometimes you find someone you utterly loud and also want to bang. It happens. Then Artemis went on his way, found exactly what he was looking for, and erupted out of a literal hole as the new stunning god of this forsaken world and Phoebe was pissed.
Not because she liked him or anything but because he did the impossible and he did it because he was already a freak of nature. He found a way to be somehow already the most powerful thing in the world and then jump the shark from humanity into actual godhood. That was supposed to be Pheobe. That should be Pheobe. And now she's finding out that she can't because she's normal human and to be human means you can't cross that fucking line?
No, absolutely not there is a way.
Then Phoebe finds out she's pregnent and she's figures out, alright. So she can't become God, but what's second best to God? How about the Mother of God.
So here's the thing. I have not exactly figure out the next part of this or how she did it. All I know is that Phoebe does manage through a heighten dream state to meet on the same plan as The Butterfly, grab it, and eat it--allowing it to find its home in the fetus inside her. Nine months later, a child with cosmic eyes is born unto it and Phoebe...is not happy. Because besides the whole eye deal, this child is normal. Just a random newborn baby. Boring, useless, weak. This is not what she was looking for. She wanted to be the Mother to user in The Butterfly's wisdom to the world, not spend her time changing diapers, waiting for it to wake the hell up in this infant's skull and realize its divinity. If you haven't notice, Phoebe, as ambitious as she is, isn't exactly patient. So she returns to the original plan; trying to wake The Butterfly up, just now in a new form.
Phoebe is not kind to her new child/new god. She doesn't have to be. If she's a real god, then she can withstand what she does next. If she isn't, then she can start all over.
Three months later, Artemis--back on the surface and just turn his own crime gang into a full-blown culure--gets word that Phoebe gave birth. Considering he was told that cult doesn't get many visitors and there were exactly many men in it, well...Like I said, Artemis fucked himself into a situation he could not fuck himself out of, so he might as well go check.
Cut to him arriving to a blood covered temple and finding his child bound to an alter by chains. Now I won't say exactly what happened with Phoebe or the Cult of the Butterfly after that but lets just say after that day, they weren't operating anymore. Artemis unchained Dolly, fell in love with at first sight, and decided that if she's going to look like a little doll, she might as well be called that--besides, one of his mother's favorite songs she used to sing to him was Hello, Dolly. He likes to think she would have liked the name. Dolly responded by blinking and her cosmic eyes changed to his violet. And that was that.
And so was the story of how Artemis came to find Dolly. Completely was not his fault for once but he must say, it was the best and only good thing he's ever done.
As for what Dolly is, well. She both a natural thing and abomination. It's a very odd thing to be both a human child (because for all intents and purposes, Dolly is human) and also be cosmic god. She is hopelessly in between mortality and immortality--all knowing and still learning. For Dolly, it's like her brain is a giant book but she does not have the reading level to understand what's in front of her. One day she will, and her powers are going slowly everyday, but at the same time, she is a very normal eight year old girl with a very normal eight year old body. If she pushes too hard, her the god part of her might start to awaken and break out of her, return to where it's supposed to be. Like, by virture of what the Butterfly was, it was never supposed to be IN a timeline. Being IN a timeline now means instead of there being a SINGLE VERSION OF ITSELF there are now SEVERAL VERSIONS OF THEMSELVES ACROSS TIMELINES AND WORLDS. AND THESE VERSIONS CAN NOT MEET OR EXISTENCE WILL RIPE APART.
Dolly is THAT. She's not the end all, be all but she's sure up there as far as concepts go and now she's an eight year old girl who is both extremely old and extremely new at the same time and all she wants to do is draw pictures her and her father holding hands.
And for the record Artemis is aware and he loves her. He doesn't want anything from her except to love her. The fact that Dolly is an actual literal god and he's technically running a grift was incidental and would be kind of funny if he wasn't violently aware that one day Dolly will be on her own and lose her less shard of humanity and any awareness she has of him along with it.
As for what he has planned for her. Just for her to grow up. Dolly wasn't in the plans and the plans were just to destroy the world. She comes along and he decides 'well, why not destroy the world, remake it, and then give it to her after I'm done?' It'll be like baby's first planet. Trial run for when she goes out and starts being literal god.
My plans for Dolly? I don't know. I mean part of me does know but it would be kind of a spoiler for her development. I have a storyline as Dolly gets older but that's so far in the future right now. Dolly could be a danger as she grows or she could turn out to be a benevolent or just uninterested. The problem I think for everyone else outside of Artemis, like Kassandra and Blaine, is that despite seeing the powerset Dolly has, it's hard not see her as just a little girl--and that she might not turn out to be anything more than that. She's just little kid with, yes, a bad father but there's a chance she won't end up like him. There's a chance she could change. Right now, I think when Kassandra looks at Dolly she's just...sad. Sad because she knows what she has to do and maybe she doesn't want to make another little girl an orphan. It's not that she unaware of the threat Dolly could be, it's just that she has hope that maybe that won't be the case. Cause the alternative is hurting a small child for a possibility and Kass won't do that.
And Blaine. Well, Blaine has his own reasons to be sad over Dolly and starts with he wishes he had known about her sooner.
Either way, it's good that Artemis is an actual good father who doesn't use Dolly. Maybe treating her like just a precious little girl is the best thing you could do a little god.
Although, I will add Dolly is as lonely as you might think she is--and maybe Artemis holds onto her a little tighter for that reason too.
(side note: given Dolly's power of being able to jump through realities that DON'T involve, it does give her room to exist in any canon. Funky, huh?)
(additional side note: Dolly has a phobia of butterflies, specifically red butterflies. I wonder why)
ANYWOO. THAT WAS A LOT. UM. SORRY. I hope that answered your questions? If you or anyone else has more, feel free. I am clearly an endless book with this story.
#deity oc- dolly#deity oc- artemis#deity oc- kassandra rosales#deity oc- blaine storms#tw- child abuse#or at least implied child abuse#Deity Worldbuilding#When I said Eua was an 'alternate Earth' that was really an understatement#Eua is a fucking weird planet#I haven't touched or figured out how fucking human society works it makes me cry just thinking about it#writing#Godkiller//Deity
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And Eat It, Too - Chapter Sixteen: Corpse Du Ballet
In which the Unknowing takes a new turn, Tim is gravely injured, and Jon decides to go somewhere he thought he'd never, ever go…
>>> NOW ON AO3!
It's the Unknowing. Canon-typical gore and violence.
Tim lives. Not to spoil y'all, but he is going to be okay… eventually.
(Masterpost including playlist)
*
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Opening the door that muffles the calliope music is harder than letting the spiders weave against his skin, harder than staying quiet in the Dark, harder than pushing back against the Lonely in his heart.
Jon cannot breathe evenly, cannot find the calm he’s hit before, and doesn’t know if that’s because the Unknowing has truly begun and it takes all his concentration not to forget everything, or if it’s… something else.
The door opens onto a hall, ringed with balconies, looking down on an auditorium filled with horror.
The anglerfish is down there in its full and hideous glory, and all of the Stranger’s mannequins are, too, and they… are dancing.
There are lines of people, innocent people, lured in or pulled in or stolen from vacations or from their beds, snatched on the way home from work or captured after a fun night out or tricked into walking where they ought not go.
So many. So many—
One after another, being fed to the anglerfish, with screams and terror that even Jon can feel, and one by one, they are shucked out of their skin like corn.
He can’t look at it without throwing up, so he looks away.
Can’t feel Tim.
Has to find Tim.
Not Tim, you bastards, he thinks, and creeps around this hall.
There are no doors or curtains. Each little balcony grants him a horrible view, and though he’s slightly higher up, he can still see the blood they’re leaving all over the stage.
The seats are filled with a stone audience, carved, though the purpose of that is beyond even his knowledge.
He can feel his little bubble of resistance wearing away.
Then he wonders.
Michael had Tim inside him. Michael said, Michael had said…
I am simply collecting what is mine, Archivist. The one who entered my domain, when it took back Helen, what feels like years ago but was only months.
Michael can track Tim.
Jon touches his scar. I need you, he thinks. Please, I need to—
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” says Breekon or Hope.
“Said you’d be creepin’ around here, she did,” says Hope or Breekon.
Jon loses composure completely and turns to run.
It doesn’t take them long to catch him.
#
It’s so much worse, so much worse down where they’re dancing, so hard to keep his knowledge in his mind, and he can’t even think about whatever the hell Breekon and Hope are saying as he’s dragged onto the—
The—
The stage, that’s what it is, he can’t forget what it is, he can’t let them take him—
“Hello, Archivist! It’s so good to see you here,” says Nikola, grabbing his—
His—
Fuck, my hand, it’s my hand, Jon struggles.
Nikola laughs. “Oh, this will be so much fun!” And she pulls him close, and then he’s dancing.
#
Whirling, spinning.
Feet landing in places he’d never be able to do on purpose, not under his control.
Fighting so hard to keep track, to—to—
“Who… who are you?” he says.
“Why, I’m Tim!” says Nikola, and everyone around her laughs, and that isn’t right, he knows it isn’t right, and—
“N… no you’re not!” Jon cries, and tries to get away from (Nikola, this is Nikola, it’s not a dream), but she won’t let him go, and her grip on his arms is so tight that she’s tearing his skin, and he’s beginning to bleed.
He sees a thing dance by, wearing Gertrude Robinson, cackling in a way surely that old bitch never had, and feels the power of it as it swings through.
Woah, he thinks. Is that what he feels like, even remotely? Can’t be, can’t, surely he’d have—
“Pathetic,” says Getrude the Mannequin as it swings by, and laughs at him, at him, and its power swells against him, and for a moment he can’t remember what that is or who she is or who he is or why anything is happening—
“No,” Jon says. His head feels hot.
She swings by again, and now she’s dancing with another skin that’s all too familiar.
Jergen Leitner. They dug him up, too.
“Do you know how many people I killed to keep the world in one piece? The sacrifices I made?” Gertrude Mannequin says happily, and laughs. “And here I am… because you failed.”
This is important, if Jon could remember why, important because… because…
If he didn’t know who she was, these words wouldn’t matter.
They know he can fight this.
Suddenly bolstered, he snarls, “It’s not my fault you died!”
And on the next pass, it’s Leitner Mannequin talking. “No, but my death very much was.”
Deserve to be alone, Jon thinks, and moans as he pushes at it. Throws his head back, tries to get loose.
Nikola swings him, and power rises.
“Left me alone to have a cigarette, didn’t you? Left me to Elias’ tender mercy,” Leitner Mannequin says. “Didn’t you ever learn that smoking kills?” And he is cackling, and Gertrude is cackling.
And Nikola dips him like a lover, spraying someone else’s blood in Jon’s face, her voice box stolen. “You’ve done a lot of damage, Archivist, but I’m willing to let bygones be bygones! After all, I have everything I want now—even you!”
The guilt, the guilt, his fault, his fault—Jon’s head is an inch from the stage, and lights, so bright, are blinding him. “Let me go!”
Nikola tsks and stands him up. “We are going to sacrifice you, don’t you see? With all that power stored away, and all those marks… nothing is going to stop this now!” She laughs, and swings him, and dizziness muddles anything anyone else says.
“He doesn’t have all of them,” says Gertrude Mannequin, spinning by.
“Oh, who wants all of them,” Nikola snaps. “This will be enough.”
Hold on, Jon thinks, gripping his name, his identity, his purpose. What are they… remember who you are, remember, remember why the… why…
It’s almost falling out of his head. It’s almost all gone, lost, blurring under the mushy paint of his mind.
Then there’s a horrible bang, and one of the mannequins shrieks.
Tim has come out of nowhere, wielding a pipe.
Tim has no backpack. Doesn’t know where he is. Doesn’t know what’s going on. But he sure as hell knows he hates these things.
The second Jon sees him, he remembers it all, and knows Tim still has the detonator.
Nikola thinks this is all hilarious, and does nothing to stop him as he comes swinging through, no less effective for the loss of his purpose.
And Jon… projects.
Danny
Your brother
Grimaldi
Remember
Tim’s eyes widen.
Suddenly he’s swinging with a will, not wildly, and Jon is
Jon is
Doing something he cannot do but if he does not they will kill Tim and he is looking at the monsters that run at Tim and willing them to be less whole than this ritual warrants and Tim is smashing them apart—
Nikola doesn’t care, and swings him away. “Let him come,” she flutes. “Let them watch each other die! It’s adorable!” And she hoists Jon against some wooden structure he feels is wrong, and when Gertrude Mannequin appears with nails and a hammer, he knows what they’re going to do.
He focuses on Tim, focuses even as he screams as they start to pound the nails in, his arms stretched too high, his tendons tearing. Focuses on Tim.
Detonator! he projects, as hard as he can, with everything he has, and he sees the moment Tim recalls.
He can feel the nails catching against his wrist bones, somehow, holding his weight. He screams.
“Take it all!” sings Nikola, her own arms raised, opening herself to the essence of the Stranger, the Uncanny, the I do not know you, and Jon suddenly feels like he’s being… sucked, somehow, drained into some horror, something that loathes his very essence and the knowledge he contains. “Take it! You who hides and dances and devours all! Take his marks, his fears, his names, his reasons! Bring with you all that is fear and terror! All that is awful dread! All that crawls, and chokes, and falls, and twists, and hides, and weaves, and burns, and—”
Jon feels turned inside out.
He can’t breathe. He can’t think. The focus on him is worse than anything he’s ever known, and he cannot fight it.
It’s like his entire being has been wired for this one, specific frequency—
And then the wood behind him vanishes into a door, and he falls through.
#
Nikola’s shriek echoes, bouncing illogically through the Corridors, and Michael watches Jon with fascination as he screams because all the things are pouring back into his head.
Jon twists on the carpet, surrounded by the few pieces of wood that came through the door instead of turning into it.
If he’d been scarred before, this had to be killing him.
The Eye seemed determined to make up for lost time, to fill the vacuum left behind with everything Jon could ever know, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
But Jon did not forget. “Save him! Please! Tim—please! Michael, please!” He’s getting blood everywhere, it’s just pouring out of him, and he can’t even think clearly enough to remove the nails. “Please!”
Michael is not smiling. It says nothing.
Jon reaches. Shaking. Blood drips from his wrist. “Please.”
Michael sighs. “Oh, Archivist, the things you say.”
Then everything happens, and it happens so very fast.
Michael opens a door.
Tim’s voice. “—see the great Grimaldi, cheer yourself up.”
And Nikola—who was the great Grimaldi, before the Circus chopped him up and made him plastic and Unknown—says, “That’s. Not. Funny.”
“I know,” says Tim, and the detonator goes click.
It’s only a second—heat and pressure, sound and light, and the door is shut and Tim is next to Jon on the carpet and he is burned, burned, so badly burned, but he is breathing, and—
Michael is burned, and Jon can’t breathe, staring at what shouldn’t be possible (because of the mortal human Gertrude strapped to it, he suddenly understands), and Michael says nothing but opens another door, and there is the James Paget University Hospital.
Jon stands, wincing at how… loose… Tim’s skin feels as he lifts him, arm around his shoulders, blood getting everywhere, and looks at Michael.
“Go, Archivist,” says Michael.
Jon hesitates.
“I will come to you when I am recovered,” Michael lies.
Jon hitches. “Don’t die,” he whispers, and carries Tim through.
#
The explosion was so big that no one questions Jon when he says he found Tim wandering not far from it.
(And Michael is going to be all right.)
Jon, however, cannot make his escape. There is no door waiting for him.
His wrists have healed; so now there’s a lot of blood he has no explanation for, but Tim’s condition helps.
(And Michael is going to be all right.)
His blasted expression seems proof enough that he didn’t know what happened at the defunct museum, but was just caught up in it.
And he knows they don’t assume he’s part of it. He’s brown, but he’s the “right kind” of brown, and his disgust at their silent racism only fades under concern for Tim.
Tim’s going to need skin grafts. Infection is a concern. But he’s alive.
(And Michael is going to be all right because any other option will shut Jon right down, and he can’t afford that now.)
Tim wakes up long enough to ask for Martin, long enough to hear Jon promise he’ll call him.
A car arrives for Jon, arranged—Elias.
Jon doesn’t want to take it.
He calls Martin on the hospital phone (knowing phone numbers is a new perk he can’t find it in himself to hate), makes sure they know where Tim is.
Then he accepts the rideshare, and doesn’t even know why.
The driver tries to talk to him twice. Jon doesn’t answer at all.
It will be hours until they reach London. Hours of trying to think, to understand, to see the big, huge thing he cannot know.
Nikola was doing something, and it wasn’t part of the Unknowing.
Her ritual had transformed, and it was based… on Jon.
I have never seen anyone as broadly claimed as you, said Michael (who has to be all right).
It doesn’t matter who you do the ritual for, if you’re marked deeply enough, said Peter Lukas.
And you’re the Big Deal, said Jared Hopworth.
Avatars, coming to his hospital room to get a look at him, as if trying to gauge if he was a horse worth betting on.
It is still hidden from him, this thing. Elias has done this. He knows, feels the truth of it.
Jon looks down at his uneven hands, blood caked on them in spite of his attempt to wash them clean, and knows he cannot go to Elias’s house tonight.
He’s not just angry at Elias. Not just betrayed. He knows if Elias wants to sleep with him, he will probably succeed, and trying to deal with the aftermath of that in the knowledge that Elias is lying about something so unthinkably huge turns Jon’s stomach.
Michael (who is healing, surely, repairing itself however it must) said to leave it be for now, so.
Where can Jon go?
He knows.
He knows they’re already waiting for him, too.
Time to test and see just how well the Mother predicted this: Jon thinks where he would hide money, if he were hiding it here for himself, and reaches into the little net map pocket inside the door.
A wad of money. So yes, the Mother knew.
Jon can’t find it himself to be as terrified about that right now as he should. It’s how he’s getting out of this.
And probably putting this driver on Elias’ shit list, but there’s nothing he can do about that. “Um, Terry, was it?”
“Yeah?” says the guy (Terry Rattcliff, fifty-eight, colon cancer survivor, father of two—).
“If I paid you a ridiculous amount of money, would you be willing to take me somewhere else and not tell the original customer who set up the drive?”
Terry hesitates.
“I’ll sign whatever I need to claim I got to my destination,” says Jon, and holds up the wad.
He probably should have counted it (two hundred and fifty pounds, so not really).
Terry eyes it in the mirror. Really looks at Jon, sees stains, dried blood, a mess of a man. “You really don’t wanna go home, huh?” he says, quietly.
“No,” says Jon. “I don’t think I’ll get another chance to escape if…” he stops.
Terry nods. “I got your back. Keep the money.”
“No, I insist.” It’s not like it’s his cash. “You’re taking a risk for me.”
“You got someplace else to go? A… shelter, or something?”
Terry is assuming Jon is an abused lover.
Jon doesn’t think he’s wrong.
“I do.” And he swallows and does the next hardest thing he’s ever done in his life. “105 Hill Top Road. Oxford.”
(part seventeen)
#tw: violence#tma fanfic#tma fic#tma the stranger#the stranger#the unknowing#tma: violence#tma: gore#tim stoker#jonathan sims#and eat it too
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Please forgive me for saying this, Daddy
Even though you have never given me your forgiveness nor your apology
But I hope you die young
Beer belly up in your casket
Wearing all white like the religion you denied said you should
Wearing all white like the halloween costume I made for myself when I was nine
Cut out of old pillowcases hidden in the back of my closet
You know me, I have always been so creative
I came down the stairs bright and beaming
Dressed in white and happy to have made something from my own two hands
You refused to even look at me
You screamed and yelled and told me to go back upstairs to take that shit off
I think I looked too similar to something that had been haunting you
The ghost of that child haunts the staircase
I think of her when I skip my steps
You’ve never said too much about yourself
But I’ve heard you call yourself extra in this home too many times
The naive child that plays jump rope with my insides hopes that someday
I’ll get to know your inner workings too
They cannot be too different from mine I have your eyes and your skin and your hair
I ask you what you did with your day
You tell me not to ask questions
You then cry about feeling like a slave to this household
Why nobody asks what's going on in your mind
And how we’d cry tears of blood if we knew anything about your struggle
I have already bled too much for you, Daddy
I sit with my hands under my thighs and wait for the next time you come home
With three brown bags full of god knows what
They’re full of things to feed me but I’m still hungry
So I’ll ask you how your day was
And you’ll tell me not to ask questions
The child who clambered up steps on all fours
Innocent primate, loved to create characters to fill the empty spaces where there should have been friends
But creativity was never an option, was it, Daddy?
I was your pride and joy I was your example to set
My options to shake the sandy earth of the hot sahara desert and to fit myself in the marrow of your bones
Have always been doctor or chemist or engineer
I have never been too good at math or technology or science
But somehow my fate was to develop
First thing to hold my shaking body in the hospital room where I was born
A roaring enigma
My fate was a machine that cranks through all hours of the night
In the hallway outside my bedroom shaking the door off its hinges
On the kitchen floor tearing off tiles to worship its god
Over the stove cooking mantras
On the loveseat fighting something even in its sleep
In the backyard chugging over rosemary, basil, and thyme
My body, my own holy machine, is tired
I am tired of feeling sad for somebody who should have been wiping my tears
Not sitting in front of me, age nine, sobbing about the childhood you lost
What about mine, Daddy?
Why must my nine year old heal your nine year old, Daddy?
You know me, I have always been so smart
Did you know that baby monkeys will always choose a soft cloth parent over one of wire that feeds them?
Could you please be soft and hold me, Daddy?
Could you please stop being a machine, Daddy?
Could you bleed for me, Daddy?
I am tired of sitting in front of the enigma, punching in codes and connecting mysterious wires knowing I never had a chance at a normal life
My fate was sealed the moment cold air hit warm skin
I am tired of trying to crack the fucking code
But still, I grab two wires
“You need therapy” and “please see a doctor”
They blow up in my face
I push buttons
“Please get a hobby” and “please make some art”
The machine says it already knows these codes
I am frustrated and I bang my fists against old scarred metal
I scream and I cry
“Please get some help, you do not need to suffer alone.”
No response, not even negative
The enigma is silent and so am I
I wish to resign from my position as engineer and go create some art
I have been hoping wishing praying since I was a nine year old girl
Draped in old pillowcases curled up on her bedroom floor
Holding herself in the only arms that would always hold her
That you would die young
Three trips to the hospital and you have dodged your fate every time
Death tries to stop the enigma yet he keeps on chugging
I wish for your premature death because it would be easier for me
Finally, for once, I worship my own machine selfishly
I would cry less at your funeral than watching you alone somewhere
Maybe with a dog or two who are both naive like I was
Nine years old wearing white
They’ll have nobody to run to when you snap at them
They’ll make mistakes you cannot stand
The enigma wants all the other machines to operate the way he operates
The enigma cannot change god's creatures
The enigma speaks of god but god does not know him
The enigma believes he is god
The dogs can’t hold themselves when the fuse short circuits
But they’ll have no choice to run back to your feet when you feed them
Mourning your death would be easier than thinking of you old and gray
Dying alone somewhere when you have nobody to feed
Sooner or later every living thing will learn that they would rather starve than sit at your feet
Even savage hounds and gods hungriest creatures
We are all so hungry for love
Even you, Daddy
Hungry for love
Hungry to feed the nine year old that picks at your ribs
Desperate for someone to hold you wearing white
But soon you’ll have nobody left to listen to your cogs howling at night
Metal screeching into the dawn
Nobody to kill themselves over not closing the gate fast enough
Nobody to zone out as you spit in their face
Nobody to shiver, cold in the home you painted and decorated and filled with your sheet metal garbage
Nobody to run out of your house barefoot and freezing fearing the enigma
Daddy, please go die already
Please let your nine year old stop playing inside your barely beating heart, Daddy
Please let my nine year old rest
Go get dressed in all white and go let your god judge you now, please
I am tired of trying to crack you.
- Enigma
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Ten Random Lines Tag
Rules: Pick any ten of your fics/writing projects, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag people (ten if you want to follow the theme).
Thank you for the tag @ceph-the-writing-spook !!
I'm operating on low spoons, so if you see this you are tagged and have permission to tag me in your post.
Okay, I'm digging deeeep for this one... here we go:
1. Dark Water
Theodora nodded sharply and walked, leading from behind the back of the bar and towards the main room where the dozen tables and twice as many chairs were left in complete disarray, scattered around the room which was divided in the center by a large post holding up the ceiling.
The smell of meat, rum, and sweat seemed to run deep into the floorboards, emanating most strongly from the pirates that lingered - passed out or half-asleep - inebriated and satiated.
Isidro wished he was out with the horses.
2. Burn for Me
“Good job, I’ll get the… the um…” She swayed a bit as a veil of dizziness clouded her mind. She looked around, her vision stuttering as black smoke creeped in from all sides, creating a pin-point of which to see through. The colors of the mid-morning sun shifted to a dingy gray, and the sound of her breathing clogged up her ears as she glanced down at Nolan, who was busy striking the pin the rest of the way out of the hinge. Just beyond his head was a tuft of black smog drifting out from underneath the door, hot like smoke. It billowed and rose, changing shape independent of its texture, bubbling and clinging together.
3. Sonata
His breath left his body and he laid on the ground feeling a million fiery splinters racing up his right femur and left forearm. He flipped onto his stomach and used his right arm to pull himself forward across the gravel, tucking his left in to his bare chest that came alive with singing pain.
Everything hurts.
5. Tinsel (will be posted soon)
4. VOID (in development)
"What do you think you are?"
Alexela shook their head. They didn't want to think. They didn't want to do anything anymore. They were tired. So. fucking. tired.
6. Currently Untitled WIP
He moved his arms, and suddenly felt a blinding pain radiating down from his left elbow that made his knees buckle and his vision black out. His vision came back slowly, and he realized with horror he was sitting on the carpet.
She nodded and quickly moved out of his sight, feeling a very brief sense of relief as she shut the basement door behind her. That was quickly repelled by the sheer amount of steps down she had to take. She held the jacket close to her and took the first step down. The binding of the book bit into her side and she was bombarded with small memories of the night before.
7. Make Me Alpha (unposted werewolf fic)
Mae lowered her hand and threw her head back like a petulant teenager. Lily paid her no mind, turning back to the blueprint as Koa got up from the table. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he grabbed some ice water.
I had been wracking my brain all day in how to get him alone for two seconds to apologize. What would I even say? "Hey Koa, I’m super broken. Sorry about that. Do you want to go out sometime?"
8. Maroon (prequel fic to Make Me Alpha)
Lily looked back at the detective and stood, reaching out as her body lilted too far forward. The detective caught her wrist, steadying her. Lily nodded in thanks and answered the phone.
“Lily,” Her name rushed out. She stayed silent, her slender features catching the sun racing through the surrounding windows, “thank you. Yes I’ll be sure to let you know. Goodbye.”
She hung up and pocketed the phone, “My apologies. My boys should be here within the next few hours.”
9. DnD NPC Introductory Descriptor from a campaign I wrote
A stumped and bandaged arm reaches through the bars met by a tattered and torn shirt that exposes the malnourished humanoid torso. Masses of scars are spattered onto his pasty, yellow skin.
Over his head there is a bandage that covers one eye and wraps around filthy silver hair. Peeking from the bandage are the tips of pointed elven ears, uneven from a bite wound that severed the tip of one. A large rat scurries around his legs and then climbs up his pants and over his torso, it sits on his shoulder dutifully.
10. Another Untitled WIP
“Your blades aren’t long, so what you do with them will be limited,” He pointed at her wrist with one hand and then to her shoulder with the other, “what you allow your opponent to see will become a target. Use your speed against them. Create an opening, disarm, then strike. Clear?”
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Bring me out of the dark
YThis is the second chapter of a Bucky/Nat normal life au fic I’ve been writting.
The complete series can be found on AO3.
The themes are quite dark so this are the trigger warners for this chapter:
TW: Implied/Reference torture
TW: PTSD, flashbacks
Can’t sleep! Can’t breathe!
Bucky’s POV
The alarm finally went off, marking another sleepless night. The wait was over, I had given it my best shot, done everything I was supposed to, and it had still backfired.
Either way, I had to get going. Steve was going to be here in a couple of hours, and getting ready on one arm definitely took longer than it used to with both.
I brewed myself some coffee and fumbled with the plastic knife, trying to both keep the bagel in place and spread jam over it was still hard, no matter how many times I practiced with the occupational therapist.
He hadn’t managed to teach me as many new motor patterns as we both would have liked, turned out I was a complete lefty, so turning to my right hand was nightmarish, however Clint was definitely a master when it came to adaptations. From weighted plastic cutlery, to squeezable bath product bottles marked with different shaped gomets, even the meal delivery service I was subscribed to had been his idea!
He had said it was a blessing with two kids under five, and he swore by it. I definitely could see why. Nutritious food made in five to ten minutes in the microwave. It had been hard dealing with the beeping in the beginning, but now it saved me so much frustration and time.
The pang started on my missing fingers, then made its way up. Awoken by the single beep the machine emitted, or maybe the slightly burnt smell of the bacon.
- Fuck. Not again!
There was no arm anymore, just a big scar following my collarbone and a patch of scarred leathery skin. Yet the hot pain radiating from my nonexistent wrist up was a daily occurrence.
- There's nothing there - I repeated the useless mantra, closing my eyes and rubbing at the air, as if I could get my muscles to relax - There’s nothing there, there’s nothing there, there’s nothing there...
I proceeded as usual, pushing the white, hot, pulsating pain to the back of my mind, and placing the bacon on the other half of the bagel. Bitter, sweet and savory, the best combination of tastes for a breakfast if you asked me.
Taking my pajamas off was another thing I still struggled with. Well... the dressing and undressing in general, even with adapted clothing. Clint had made a joke about seeing me naked more than his wife, but to work through the frustration was the only way out, right?
Showering was another task that had changed quite a bit. It had to be done in the dark, since looking at my body just...
I was swinging there. My arms numb and my body exposed. A canvas for their anti american sentiments. Blades, knives, razors, even scissors...
- You are safe - My ragged breaths hurt my insides - You are home.
Name five things! Five things... White tiled floor! I took a long breath of air and kept it inside. Navy towels, wicker laundry hamper... I allowed the air out, exhaling as slowly as I could. It still came in short ragged breaths. Then repeated the process. Dirty mirror, gomet coded bottles, Steve’s red toothbrush still on the cup...
Once my breath had evened out I showered quickly: in, shampoo, soap, rinse, conditioner, comb, rinse, out.
Spray deodorants were the best, no caps to fumble around. Boxers were hard to slide up with only one hand and not looking down, it could be done. Socks though were the death of me.
I had started using a contraption where you slid the sock on, then lowered it to the ground and pushed the foot through. It was one of those teleshopping things I’d thought useless before the war, but it was surprisingly effective.
A soft gray t-shirt followed, it was new, something Peggy had bought for me at Decathlon for its breathability. The empty long sleeve hanging limp at my left side felt disconcerting, so I just yanked at it until the stitching gave up. Better.
Then came jeans, he had graduated out of his joggers a month back, they still had to contain elastic though, and they’re closed with a big snap hidden underneath the metal button.
Finally shoes, I checked the alarm clock, 8:10, the time was close to Steve’s arrival. I had changed to slip on sneakers and zipped boots, I’d rather forget how expensive my wardrobe change had been, hadn’t it been for Pops inheritance I’d have had to rely on the charity of my friends, burdening even more. Not that it was unexpected, the army didn’t treat his veterans exactly well, not even those with a bunch of medals. Had learnt it the hard way when the colonel came back from Iraq.
There were steps up the creaky stairs. Knocking followed - Bucky. It's me, Steve.
The key turned on the lock. I stared at the door, willing myself to stay seated on the bed, as calm as possible, as my friend used the spare key to let himself in.
- No knife? - He teased - What a boring welcome.
I had finally managed to stop standing guard, knife in hand any time someone came near my door, or knocked, it felt good, him acknowledging my progress in a lighthearted way.
Steve came every saturday morning to help me with the house. Some things weren’t possible on my own anymore: riding my bike or playing guitar were the ones that hurt the most, however, on a scale of usefulness it had more to do with changing my sheets and sweeping and mopping the floors. He also took me to therapy, unsure I’ll go if left to my own devices, and kept me company afterwards, in case I became a fucking mess of nerves.
- Here - He throws a stack of papers at me - Read through and tonight you can ask Tony for any clarifications.
- What’s this?
- The Bionic project, you are in, if you want.
The NYU logo occupied half of the page, then were the names: Stark, Banner, Strange, and a bunch of medical organizations. I could have an arm again?! A functioning one?
- I thought severe PTSD disqualified me.
- Tony has his ways - He started rummaging around the house, finding every speck of dust and fighting any dirt with his usual obsession. A given when getting sick as a child could mean dying at any time.
I skimmed through the pages, I could grasp the basics of the science behind it: intramuscular electrodes would be placed at the base of my neck, circumventing the damaged area, then connect to a fixed metal plate that would act as a processor and allow access to my injuries, then a complete bionic arm would attach to that.
Risks: worsening of phantom pain, complete paralysis and even death.
- How come they’ve founded this? The risks are severe...
- They had success with under the knee, over the knee, and along the arm amputations so...
- Do you trust this?
He smiled softly, warmth coming through in his voice - I’ll trust Tony with my life.
- Then it’s done - I searched for a pen, and in a blurry penmanship I signed my name at the end of the informed consent formulaire.
- Maybe you should talk it out with doctor Sullivan before making a rushed decision.
- You have too much faith in that woman.
- And you, far too little.
He grabbed my leather jacket and pushed me to the door and into the car. The ride was smooth and quiet, interrupted only when I realized - Wait? Did you say we’re meeting Tony tonight?
- We’re going to the ballet. All of us. It’s Natasha’s debut as Giselle, and as a principal dancer with the company. Tony got us tickets at the front box.
- That must be expensive.
- Don’t think about it.
- Stevie, you’ve all done so much for me this past year, I... I don’t want to be a burden - I stared at my feet, guilt had its way of turning my stomach, as if someone had stabbed me at the gut. A feeling I could definitely pinpoint with accuracy.
- This is what friends are for - He retorted.
- I’m such a fuck up...
He squeezed my thigh, hard, stopping the shake in my body - You haven't slept in a while, have you?
- Not really.
- You start spiraling when you stop sleeping.
- Do I?
He gave me a pointed look - You aren’t taking the sleeping pills.
- I get nightmares with those.
- Then get Sullivan to change them!
- You don’t get it...
- You’d rather stay awake than face the memories, I get it. But your body is going to give out eventually, Buck.
I promised to think about it and entered the old building. Sam worked there during the week, in the child protection department, that’s how we got to meet the doctor, and his double duty as both a psychiatrist and therapist. “Global approach to trauma therapy” was Sam’s pitch to Steve, and he had forced me into it ever since.
- James - She called softly, trying not to startle me, as if I hadn’t been listening to the muffled voices, her armchair moving and the door opening.
- Tense already? - She closed the door behind us, again with minimal force, and I struggled with having her in my blindspot - I haven’t even started to prood at you for information yet.
Sarcasm, that was the only reason I had stayed on therapy with her, I couldn’t take a sympathetic shrink with a “poor you” approach.
She sat on a comfy armchair opposite me, taking her black notebook from the side table and placing it over her crossed legs.
- How’s your week been?
- Good.
She sighed - This is not going to work if you are not honest, James. You know it. Stop wasting both our time.
- It was relatively good - I insisted, because it had been - I went to OT twice, had my three meals a day, manageable phantom pain.
- Did you go out with friends?
- Tonight.
She seemed kind of impressed, her softly wrinkled face keeping a smile in check - How about showering? Has it gotten any easier?
I nodded no, she took note.
- Are you keeping the stump clean? We don’t want you taking antibiotics until we create a new super resistant bacteria, do we?
- When I shower I do wash it.
- When? Aren’t you showering everyday, lieutenant?
I seethed at that - Do, not, call, me, that - I knew I was being disproportionated but I didn’t care. James Buchanan Barnes, the hero, discharged with honors and a raise through the ranks, recipient of a purple heart. That wasn’t me.
- Don’t raise your tone with me, young man - She replied, scolding me as if I were a kid.
- Sorry - I got back on my sofa. When had I risen from my place? - Shouldn’t have threatened you.
- Shouldn’t have triggered you, either - She shrugged - I have to, though.
She pondered the following question with care - Are you refusing to take sleeping pills because you think of it as a sign of weakness?
- No! - I scoffed at the idea - I just don’t want to sleep!
- I know your dad was diagnosed with PTSD as well - So she had decided to push my buttons - He refused treatment, didn’t he?
- The colonel did what he thought best.
- Drank himself to sleep?
I found my fists rolled up and tried to relax, slow steady breaths - I’m here. And I’m not falling for that.
- So you are getting how many white nights a week?
- Four, maybe five - I squirmed in my seat - They tend to come together, three nights in a row, then I sleep for one or two, then I stay awake again for a couple days.
- We can search for a medication that helps with the nightmares, James - She tried to coax me softly - You’re doing so well in other areas, but we can’t make progress if you don’t get to sleep.
- I’m fine.
She resigned herself, pushing her back to her seat, widening the distance she had shortened between us.
- Have you been able to see yourself naked?
My brows might have reached the ceiling, because she bursted out laughing at my shock - What? Are you prudish, James?
- Didn’t expect the question. And no, I’m still showering in the dark and dressing without looking down.
Honesty. I couldn’t watch the scars and stay present, no matter how much I tried.
- How about cutting your hair.
- No buzzing, no scissors.
- We could try it here, you know? I could cut your hair while we work on grounding techniques, that way I can see if you are applying them correctly.
- You? You want to cut my hair?
- I want you to face the trauma in a controlled environment. If you’d prefer a striptease is fine by me.
That time I did laugh. Seemed like a good compromise.
- How about we try? We can stop at any point.
- Now?!
- I keep a pair of scissors in my bag. Come here.
She made me sit on the carpet in front of her and started chatting. What would I be doing that night, had I watched any good tv series lately, anything to keep me grounded.
Yet, the moment the scissors closed near my ear and its sound registered, I went back.
I was going to die. Another shiny metallic object impacted against my back, lodging itself between my shoulder bones, a sharp cry. I was going to die. Someone slashed through my abs, warm sweet blood dripped onto my pants and the concrete floor. I was going to die.
- James - She sounded as if we were underwater - James, look at me - She slapped my face lightly until I locked eyes with her - You are home, you are safe, say it.
- I... I’m home, I’m safe?
- You are. You are safe - She promised, nodding with all her might - Say it again.
I’m home, I... I’m safe.
- Come on, sound convinced!
- I’m home. I’m safe.
- Good - She kept rubbing circles in my back until I stopped shaking, forcing me to repeat the words again, and again, and again.
- I’m such a fuck up... - There were tears rolling down my face.
- You need help. That’s it - She sentenced.
- What I need is a bullet through my brain.
She grimaced but said nothing, she didn't seem to find it as serious as previous times because she didn’t call for a psychiatric hold at the nearest hospital. Maybe knowing Maria had taken my gun also helped.
- It’s quite probable you’ll crash in a while, panic attacks tend to strip one of energy - Still, please, go out tonight. And take this - She placed a prescription on my hand.
- I bet a hundred dollars that if you take them every night, next week won’t be as hard. But you have to take them.
- Easiest hundred bucks of my life - I accepted, letting her help me from the floor.
She had been right, as fucking always, I had crashed just after lunch, but Steve had followed her instructions and woke me up. I appreciated it. And Steve was ecstatic at the chance to show me the huge banner occupying the side of the building. It was a photo of a waifish woman in a long white tutu, red hair in a bun, pained eyes barely looking at the camera, soft arms raised above her head and a splash of freckles across her skin. She was gorgeous. Natasha.
You can read the whole work here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/41646183/chapters/104463261
#winterwidow#buckynat#bring me out of the dark#normal life au#chapter 2#natasha romanoff#bucky barnes
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