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is-emily-real · 6 months

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Five Minutes

Eddie anticipated his last day of summer break to pass peacefully and quietly. The plan was to stay home, meditate on the awful realities of Hawkins to hopefully give a shit about the upcoming school year (at least enough of a shit to graduate), and prepare himself to save the new sheepies he’d add to the current roster of the Hellfire Club.

There he was, deep into his meditation, accompanied by the wonderful melodies of Black Sabbath, when a frenzied knocking sounded upon his front door.

He paused his music begrudgingly and opened the door. Steve Harrington stood on his porch in all his sweaty, shirtless, unadulterated glory.

Well.

He pushed past Eddie and slammed the door. “You gotta hide me.”

“What the hell? No.”

“Please.” The panic was written all over his face. “Just long enough so she leaves and I can get to my car.”

Eddie opened his poor, abused front door with a frown. “Get out of my house.”

Steve flinched at the sound of a girl’s hollering and ducked behind the couch. “Five minutes. Five minutes and I’m out of your hair. Deal?” he panted.

He considered his options. He could kick him to the wolves and have an odd anecdote to share the next day, or he could let him stay and have an odd anecdote to share the next day. Only one of those options let him ogle his middle school crush for longer than a few seconds.

He was a simple man.

“Fine,” he sighed and closed the door with the respect it deserved. “You owe me.”

Steve stood up. “Thanks, man, I mean it. She was about to kick my ass.”

“Who?”

“Max. We were helping her move in and I pissed her off.”

“Max Mayfield? Billy’s sister?”

He gave Eddie a stern glare. “Don’t bring him up. Yes, that Max.”

Two screams told him things were going to shit outside. Steve scrambled into the hallway with Eddie hot on his tail. “What did you even do?”

He winced. “I may have told her she didn’t get any more help if she was going to be a bitch.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks. “You didn’t.”

“Listen, she was being a bitch!”

“Keep your voice down. I know King Steve’s never been in a trailer before, but the walls are thin, okay?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered, “but she was giving Lucas shit for wanting to try out for the basketball team and it wasn’t helping anything.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see what’s wrong with making fun of that.”

“Hey, I happen to like basketball.”

“I remember.” Any tint of pink in his cheeks was purely due to the heat. Eddie opened the door to his bedroom and waved the boy inside.

This was not how he’d planned to get Steve in here. He cringed at the thought.

“Anyways, he’s good at it, and if it makes him happy, he should go for it, you know?”

“I’m not getting invested in the social lives of children.”

“But you’d like them! They play that castle game you’re into.”

“The castle game?!” Eddie couldn’t help himself. It came out louder than he expected. “Dungeons and Dragons—”

Steve clapped a hand over his mouth.

Something twisted in his stomach. This was… too close for anyone’s safety. He swallowed, trying to control the racing of his heart when they heard a pounding on the front door.

“I know he’s in there!” a girl called.

Steve’s eyes went wide. He left a chill when he drew away.

Eddie tried to wipe the longing off his face as he shot him a glare. “My blood’s on your hands.” Slowly he left the room, throwing on the aloof air he’d spent so long practicing before he opened the door.

Max Mayfield stood on his porch, fire red hair matching the color of her face as she stared at him. “Give him here.”

He rolled his eyes. “Nice to meet you too, neighbor. I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You have Steve.”

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin as if he were trying to think. “About my height, pretty face, huge jerk? Haven’t seen him.” She huffed. “Listen, check the woods, if he’s not back there, come back and I’ll upend my whole day to help you look, okay?”

“You suck,” she spat before she turned on her heel and stomped away.

“Love you too!” he called with a grin.

He peered out the blinds, waiting until she was several lots down before he turned away. “You owe me big time, Stevie,” he called. “I think I’m on her shit list for life.”

He entered the bedroom to the sight of a muscled back, its owner leaned close to his sweetheart. Steve brushed his fingers down its neck.

The whole situation was doing unfortunate things to him. He cleared his throat.

Steve whirled to face him. “I was just— You play guitar?”

He gave a wary look. “Yes.”

“That’s— uh, that’s… hot.” He shut his eyes tight. “I should— Is she gone? I should go.”

“Um, yeah, she’s gone.”

“Oh, good. Well, I guess I’ll see you around?” Steve hit him with a sheepish grin. It was the most dazzling thing he’d ever seen.

“Sure,” he stammered. “See you around.”

Eddie stayed rooted to the spot as he left. The picture of Steve’s fingers running down the neck of his guitar played on repeat in his head. That’s… hot. He listened to the crunch of gravel under tires.

He was such a dweeb.

He’d tell Jeff tomorrow. Jeff would know what to do.

(No one would believe him. Not even a little bit.)

“Steve, that’s the lamest thing you’ve ever said.” Robin continued to walk around the empty store, straightening tapes as she went with no particular fervor.

He rolled his eyes. “If it was cool, I wouldn’t be here commiserating about it, would I?”

“Still. I know I have no game, but that was bad . Criminally bad. He should press charges.”

“Listen, some of us found out we maybe liked boys a month ago.” He started to rewind another tape. “ That’s hot . Who even says that? Also, when did I start thinking Eddie Munson was hot?”

She shot him a look over the counter. “He’s your type.”

He sputtered with indignation. “I don’t have a type!”

“Curly hair, brunette, snarky? Is none of this ringing a bell?”

“Twice doesn’t make a type. If that were the case, you’d have a thing for redheads.”

“At least I know when to admit my flaws.”

“I have flaws. I hear about them all the time from my mom.”

Robin laughed. “She’d be so upset if she knew how totally not smooth you are.”

He glanced at the clock. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? It’s a school night. You have a bedtime.”

Headlights flashed in the parking lot. “One, it’s a curfew, and two, there’s my ride.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and sauntered to the door. “Seven a.m. sharp, dingus!” she called as she left.

“Loser!” he yelled after her. Steve shook his head. He’d be there, obviously.

The rest of his shift dragged. He was certain the store was losing money staying open this late on a Wednesday, but he got paid to be there, so it was whatever.

Thirty minutes left on the clock. Then twenty-nine.

After what seemed like days, a quarter to ten rolled around, and he started to close up the store. He was sweeping when the door chimed. “Welcome to Family Video,” he said without looking up, “let me know if you need anything.”

“A place to hide would be wonderful.” He looked up to find Eddie Munson approaching the counter, curls mussed and breathing hard.

Damn it, Robin was right.

“Okay, but we close in five minutes.”

“Something’s better than nothing,” he replied, hopping over the counter.

Steve abandoned his broom. Keith could whine at him tomorrow if he really cared about three whole crumbs on the floor. He walked back to find Eddie curled into a ball, tucked tightly in the corner between the overstock candy and the safe. “Who are you running from, anyway?”

“The cops.”

He blinked. “The cops?”

“Fine, one cop. But this new deputy’s a huge dick. He’s been trying to bust me over nothing all summer, and I really, really don’t want to get arrested tonight.”

“I highly doubt it’s nothing.”

“He saw me talking to Rick one time!”

“The drug dealer?”

Eddie shushed him, one long finger over his lips. “Grandma says it’s not polite to call him that.” That got a laugh out of Steve. “I met your children yesterday. They’re assholes.”

He sighed. “They’re my assholes, though. Are they adjusting alright?”

“About as well as any freshmen.”

“So, terribly.”

“Pretty much.” He attempted a dramatic flourish, only managing to knock over a box of Twix. “I’ll be a gracious super-senior and radicalize them before I hand over custody for the weekend.”

“Oh, good. I’d hate for them to learn nothing at school.”

He was basking in Eddie’s chuckle, a warm, pretty sound, when a car came to a stop outside. His face fell. “Stay here,” he ordered and spared a glance at the clock.

9:58. Close enough.

He stepped out from behind the counter and met the officer at the door. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re closed.”

“I’m looking for someone, actually. Eddie Munson. Do you know him?”

“Only in passing. He’s not here. We actually haven't had a customer in the last hour.”

The officer fixed him with a harsh look. “You’re sure?”

“I’d pull the report, but I’ve already shut down the terminals, and they take forever to boot back up.”

He huffed. “How much longer are you here for?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes? I’ve just got to finish rewinding this tape.”

“If you see him, give us a call.”

“Absolutely. Have a good night.” The officer nodded sharply and turned on his heel. Steve locked the door behind him.

The air hung tense as he returned to the counter. Eddie sat as still as stone until the car finally pulled out and started down the road. “You’re okay now.”

He unfolded himself and stood. “You’re beautiful.”

Steve stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

He flushed bright red. “You do that well!” he said quickly. “You know, lie.”

“Oh! Thanks. Lots of practice, I suppose.” He could feel his heart fluttering. Eddie called him beautiful? What the hell was happening?

“Well, I guess I should get going.”

“We can leave through the back.” He gave the store a last glance before leading Eddie out.

Eddie paused once they were in the cool night air. “Seriously, thank you. My knight in shining armor.”

“No problem. Just paying you back.” The silence hung for a beat too long. “I can walk you to your car?”

“I’ve just gotta cut through the fence row and I’ll be good. Thanks, though.”

Steve could barely make it out in the shadows, but he could see Eddie debating something with himself. He locked the door behind them, giving him time to come to a decision.

When he turned back, Eddie pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

Every semblance of a thought left his brain. Steve decided, there and then, that he liked kissing boys. He especially liked kissing Eddie. He’d never had the whole fireworks experience before, but he got it now. It felt like his head was swimming, mesmerized by chapped lips and tobacco.

Too soon, Eddie pulled back. “Was… was that okay?”

All he could do was nod.

“Good.” He started for the trees.

“See you later?” Steve called feebly. God, he wanted to.

Bathed in the orange of the streetlight, Eddie gave him a salute. “You know where to find me.” Before he could think again, he was alone.

Robin was going to be pissed.

#steddie #isemilyreal on ao3 #steve harrington #eddie munson #they're stupid they're gay and i love them

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averyy-rae · 7 months

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Dear God,...

Yandere Story/Scenario

Part 1 (here) Part 2

Summary: The darling is trying to escape from their yandere boyfriend's and is currently being chased through the woods.

Warnings: Violence, chasing, escape attempt, obsessive behavior, toxic relationship, (sorta) yandere harem, wounds, mentions of emotional abuse.

Note: This is from the darlings perspective, let me know (if anyone reads/likes this) if you want a second part or the boyfriend's perspective. Please give me feedback, this is my first publish on here. :)

Have fun reading.

Darlings POV:

I just ran.

I'm still running.

...

As I'm running, I'm already out of breath. Everything passes by me in a blur. I cant feel my legs. Hell. I cant feel anything.

My mind is too clouded with adrenaline and fear to care about all the scratches and wounds I've collected on my escape so far. I keep tripping, but I stand up on weak, wobbly legs, forcing myself to keep running. To keep going. My whole body is aching, as every fiber of my body is begging me to stop running and take rest. To just lay against the next tree, or even on the dirty floor.

I wish to just stop.

I wish to just collapse on floor and be swallowed whole by it. Not having to worry about anything..., not having to worry about th-

Suddenly my mind goes blank.

as I'm, what feels like being thrown to the floor- I got knocked off my feet mid run. The air gets knocked out of me. Everything happens in a blur and time seems to stop. The only thing I can feel for a moment is my heart stopping.

Only for a split second- I'm outside of my body.

Only for a split second- I'm not myself.

'How I wish that was true'.

The next thing I know is- I'm on the floor, trying to gather my senses. My adrenaline rush seems to wear off. I can hear again, but it's not pleasant, I can hear ragged- enraged breathing.

My heart beats faster, my fear growing as I realize...

He-.... I cut myself off. No... I know better.

They caught me. I feel dread starting to consume me at the thought. Too scared to confirm, I just lay there.

I can suddenly feel every single wound ; every single scratch on my body. All the hasty running and panicked tripping wore me out. As if that wasn't enough, my mind plagues me with horrid thoughts. 'I don't want to be proven right, not this time dear god. I beg you' My mind screams. I know.., the moment I open my eyes.

I will see those eyes. Those eyes I learned to fear. Those eyes I was supposed to obey.

Their eyes.

I can feel them on me. So many pairs of eyes. Roaming my face.. my body, longing to get a look into my deepest thoughts. I know they are waiting-

They want to search my eyes for regret, remorse, anything to stop them.I can feel their enraged stares, accompanied by their breathing. 'Danger' my subconsciousness screams.

I had learned to respect them. I crossed the line before, I tried to run. They've never hurt me.. 'Physically' my subconsciousness reminds me. 'But this time...I've gone too far', even I realize that. But it's too late.

They want my regret, they want me to beg ; but I can't get myself to regret my decision right now. And my pride still stops me from begging for forgiveness. So I fear what will happen to me when I open my eyes. As much as I wished that I could, I can't lay here forever. I know their patience is growing thinner by the second. I fear I will anger them so much, they won't forgive me this time.

For the first time I fear for my well-being in their presence. I fear...

for my life.

So I take one last shaky breath, stopping my seemingly endless train of thoughts and open my eyes. I immediately wish I didn't. What I'm seeing... I wouldn't have been able to imagine.

'gruesome-'

My thoughts immediately get cut off as he raises his voice to speak. I think at this point, I'm as pale as a corpse. I can hear him trying to suppress the rage in his voice as he says ; a little too sweetly...

"Tag you're it, sweetheart.. "

#yandere #escape attempt #chasing #yandere x darling #darling trying to escape #yandere harem #scared #yandere stories #yandere story #headcanon #situation #yandere scenarios

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romeulusroy · 1 year

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Harm (Roman Roy Oneshot)

Character/s: Roman, Lukas

Word Count: 1,645

Warning/s: abusive relationship mention/warning

A/N: This whole scene was a masterpiece, no one can tell me otherwise. Angry Roman is a gem, I love!!! I think Lukas would be a shitty boyfriend and Roman would come to their rescue. That is all :P Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Your lip was split. The bruise across your cheek yellowed in it’s melancholy hue. Across your body, your skin is painted in purple splotches, dipped in blue and red, the mark of an angry soul. They ache with every breathe, every beat. Your eyes are red around the edges, bloodshot and glossy. Your hands were shaking, unable to steady them. You had nothing. You left with nothing. The clothes on your back, your slippers caked in mud, still spongy from the Swedish rainfall. You didn’t stop running. You didn’t stop until now, halted by, of all things, a locked door. You’d been pounding, palm flat, ready to scream, to collapse, constantly looking behind you. Certain shadows resembled his shape. Please, your thoughts begged, please let me in. Roman, please. When the door opened, you fought to catch your breath, shrinking as the harsh light of the morning opened wide in front of you, at you, assaulting you. He stood there, taking you in. Taking in the crime scene. The brown of his eyes golden in the light, shocked. Wild, wide with fear, worry, with recognition. All he could do was back away, letting you in. He didn’t move, instead watching you slam the door shut, acting quickly, locking every lock. The silence between you was palpable, heavy. Immediately you slid down, your back against the wood, choking on sobs. Tears streamed down your cheeks. A guttural, animalistic, infantile whine left your lips before you were too embarrassed to stop yourself. Your hands hovered around your face, unsteady, unsure of how to comfort yourself in this moment. Everything hurt. Every little movement, every second of existence, hurt. Killed.

Carefully, he lead you to the bathroom, scared to touch you, unsure of where to put his hands. He ran the water, a warm bath, setting you on the edge of the tub. You didn’t say a thing, instead slumped over, watching him work. Here’s the fuckin- you know and, and a towel here, too. Do you need clothes? Of course you do. S, stay here, I’ll get some. Fuck. He cursed himself, not you. Never you, not like this. He wasn’t prepared for this. Was anyone? The emotions, the feelings, the heartbreak. He didn’t know how to soothe anyone, anything. He’d never been taught. He skimmed through his drawers, his closet, for a pair of pajamas. Not soft enough. There was no blood, but parts of your skin looked broken, gaping wounds, puncture marks. What the fuck happened? Finally he found something that couldn’t possibly do anymore damage, finding his way back to you. You hadn’t moved a muscle, the heaviness of the day, the past few days, weighing you down. I’ll be right outside, okay? You call me if you need anything, okay? All you could do was nod. Quietly, slowly, he shut the door, not wanting to scare you. God knows how long he sat there for, waiting for something to happen. Digging his nails into his palms, trying to take control of the situation. Was there anyone he could call? Shiv would know what to do, so would Gerri. Connor, maybe? Hell, he’d even give Kendall a chance if it meant someone telling him to do the right thing. The last time he’d seen you you were with that prick, happy, so happy, in a better condition than this. Much better. The last time he left you, you were in one piece. He knocked a few times, wanting to know if you were still okay. Your voice came out small and strained, exhausted, but at least you were speaking. That was one step in the right direction, right? In the end, he calls no one. He doesn’t even know where his phone is. You went to him for a reason. Alone. If he said anything to someone else, he knew, deep down, that would fracture the trust you had. He felt ill prepared, but it was you and him. He could do this. He could help you.

Roman hadn’t noticed the bags under your eyes, too distracted by the bruises before. Deep, dark, painful looking. When was the last time you’d slept? You looked funny in his clothes. Not funny, that’s not the right word. They seemed strange on you. In all the years you’d known one another, practically from childhood, he’d never expected to be the person you ran to when you were in trouble. You came out of the steamy room smelling of vanilla and lavender, unsure of what to do next. Roman, at an equal loss, lead you to his bedroom. The sun had just come up, surpassing golden hour, but you needed rest and he needed to buy himself a few hours. Cancel everything he had planned for the day. He wasn’t going to leave you. He pulled the blankets over you, tucking you in softly, wondering if he was dreaming. Having a terrible, horrible, awful bad dream. Any minute he’d wake up and none of this would be real. The look on your face though, the pain, the humiliation, it was all too real. Your eyes were closing before you could stop them, curled into a little ball, as if you were still trying to protect yourself. He thought you had everything. A perfect relationship, a devoted boyfriend, an escape from your real life. Everything. He didn’t love it, or even like it, biting back jealousy since the beginning, but he never expected it to go like this. Matsson had always been a dick, someone who expected to get his way whenever he wanted, but he’d assumed there was a line in the sand between business and life. There had to be. Roman paced the floors of his apartment, wondering where it all went wrong. . . .

Bits and pieces have come to light over the past few months. Your skin has healed, your mind taking a little longer. That’s okay, he was patient. Gentle. You ran away, in the middle of the night. A private jet, your family’s. He could track you if you used his. Things weren’t good, hadn’t been for a long time. You didn’t know how to leave, how to get out. One night you couldn’t take it anymore. Why did you go to him, you were both wondering. To this day, you’re not sure. You couldn’t go to your family. They were, they’d make a spectacle out of it. Run his name through the mud. You couldn’t stand to look at him, let alone say his name, tell the public every detail of your twisted relationship. They wouldn’t have been there for you, rather the story. You didn’t have many friends left. He’d alienated you from them. The Roys seemed like the safest option. They knew him, knew how he could be, but they also knew you, have known you for years now. Roman felt like the safest option. He still was. He held you when you had nightmares. At first scared to touch you, to speak, then you felt his arms tight around you, his voice breaking, dripping in worry. Hey, hey it’s just me. It’s just me, you’re okay. You’re okay. Every night, he’d comfort you, find his way back to you. He ended up sleeping beside you, so he’d be there always. Over time, the space between you grew smaller, until you were falling asleep in his arms. Those were the nights when your dreams remained sweet. Safe at last. He never pushed the subject, not those first days, where you mostly slept, and not now. If someone on his team angered him, if someone said something, he’d take it out on you. You left your phone, your wallet, everything. Roman took care of it all once he realized, made some calls, saved your finances, got you a new phone with a new number. He helped you make painful, generalized calls to your mother, father, family. No mom, no it just didn’t work out. Please don’t call him, we need out time apart. It ended in tears. It always did. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you. He knew the weeks leading up to this inevitable would be hard, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He’d have to leave soon, group therapy, or playing gladiator, depending on how it went. A retreat in Norway to seal the deal. Roman had been asked to go and though he would have loved to tell him to fuck off, you insisted he play nice. Pretend nothing happened. You could barely look at yourself those first months, avoiding mirrors, avoiding reflective surfaces. How could anyone do that to a person? How could he let him get away with it? Play nice, please. For me. Every time he closed his eyes he saw your blood in the sheets, heard the sharp inhale as every bruise felt pushed, the whimper you made in your sleep. You froze every time his face was on the television, unable to turn away, your arms reflexively wrapping around yourself, holding yourself. For you, and only you, he would play nice. He would put on a smile. He would make the deal and win and come home to you and tell you all about how he fucked him. You were supposed to be married, last week. The last bit of information you’d been keeping from him. You were engaged and the wedding was supposed to be the week before. And yet, Matsson picked the date like nothing happened, as if he knew what Roman knew. Instigating him. Taunting him. Holding it over your head, causing even more harm. What kind of husband would do that? What kind of a man does that? Don’t say anything. Not to your family, not to him. Pretend you know nothing. I promise. As soon as he saw him though, all he could see was red.

#writing #roman roy #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #lukas matsson #lukas matsson imagine #lukas matsson x reader #roman roy fic #lukas matsson fic #succession #succession imagine #succession x reader #succession fic

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babyjakes · 1 year

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forever and a day | 53. accident.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse (including sterilization) and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. minor mentions of disordered eating. themes relating to abuse of power/authority and immoral interrogation tactics including SA (with brief depictions.) evil!Tony Stark.

[Bucky]

The sound of the doorbell ringing in the middle of the night rouses me from my usual restless slumber. Grunting as I twist from my side to my back on my mattress, I stare at the ceiling as my mind takes several moments to adjust to being awake again. Who the hell could that be? I think to myself, my heart beginning to pound lightly in my chest as anxiety builds in my throat. I don't know who would come knocking at an hour like this, but given my past, I'm heavily inclined to be skeptical.

Forcing myself up to a sitting position, I glance over at the red numbers of my alarm clock glowing faintly in the dark. 2:49am. What on earth?

Dragging myself out of bed, I switch on my bedside lamp, fumbling around on the ground to find an overshirt and throwing it on over my pajamas before walking slowly out of the room. I make my way up to the front of the apartment slowly, putting on as few lights as possible for myself in an attempt to minimize the amount that can be detected from outside. By the time I reach the front door, my whole body is shaking. Cursing the fact that I have no peephole or window to see out easily, I clear my throat, asking firmly through the thick wood, "Who's there?"

Almost too quiet to detect, a muffled voice responds, "Bucky? I-it's Willa. C-can I-... c-can you-... sorry, sorry for b-bothering you." Realizing who it is, my entire body relaxes as I let out a sigh of relief. I immediately undo the locks and open up the door to find the poor thing shivering out in nothing but her light blue teddy bear pajama shirt and undies, carrying a mess of bedsheets at her feet. Her cheeks are bright red and stained with tears, her big green eyes glancing up shamefully towards me.

"Willa- hi," I murmur, a bit stumped by her appearance. "Hi sweetheart, are you alright? What're you doing up so late, hmm?" I ask, ushering her in the door. Closing it behind her and kneeling down to her level, I look over her once more. Noticing that her underwear are soaked through, with her matching pajama pants balled up along with the mess of sheets, the dots start connecting in my head; she probably had an accident in her sleep. I still don't know, though, how or why she ended up at my door.

"'m sorry. D-did I wake you up? 'm so sorry," she mumbles, her head hanging lamely as she sniffles.

"It's okay, bunny. Don't worry about it," I tell her gently, unsure of what to do or say. "Are you okay, sweetie? What're you doing here? Does Steve know where you are?" At the man's name, the girl flinches slightly, shaking her head.

"'m sorry. Tried t-to do it by m'self but c-couldn't reach," she rambles as a few more tears make their way down her flushed cheeks. "Please don't tell D-Daddy. He'll be s-so mad."

"What do you mean, doll? Couldn't reach what?" I ask, leaning my face in a bit closer and raising my brow sympathetically at her.

Keeping her gaze on the floor, she whimpers, "Th-the machine, to wash m-my sheets. W-wet them... while I was s-sleeping. H-had a nigh'mare. Don't beat me, please. Please don't." More tears drip down her nose and onto the floor as she quivers, my heart breaking at her pleas.

"No sweetie, I won't beat you. You're alright, doll," I soothe warmly, reaching out to rub her back lightly. Jumping, she sniffles as she eyes my arm warily, clearly not trusting my gentle touch. "It's okay to have accidents, Willa. No one's gonna hurt you for it; I certainly won't. You need help cleaning up your sheets?" I ask. She nods defeatedly. "Okay. We can wash them in my machine, okay? Your pajama pants, too, and your undies. And we can get you cleaned up too, kiddo. How does that sound?" I offer.

"Y-yes please," she agrees quietly. Giving her a smile, I carefully take the contents of her hands from her.

"Alright missy, follow me," I tell her as I rise to my feet, walking back through the apartment to the washer and dryer, which are tucked in a closet by the bathroom. Willa trails behind me silently with her head still lowered, a stray tear still making its way down her face every once and a while.

Opening up the folding closet doors, I load what the child gave me into the top machine before crouching down again at her height, asking softly, "Could I get you a big t-shirt to wear while we wash your clothes? That way you can still keep covered up," I offer, not wanting to ask her to give up the underwear until she has something else to cover herself with. Receiving a nod, I stand again, going into one of the baskets of clean clothes I've yet to put away from my last cycle that sits in the closet beside the stacked machines.

"Here, how about this," I try, pulling out an old maroon shirt that seems like it'll fit her somewhat like a dress. She nods as I hand it to her, suggesting, "How about I cover my eyes and turn around while you get changed. Is that okay?" I ask carefully, not wanting to cross the little girl's boundaries. She nods warily as I give her a comforting smile, covering my eyes as promised with both of my hands and turning around.

I can hear quite shuffling as the child gets changed. After a few moments, she tells me, "'m done."

"Okay bug," I hum as I turn back around and uncover my eyes, taking her soiled clothes off the ground and loading them with the rest in the machine. Measuring out some detergent and popping it in the washer as well, I hit the button to start the cycle, the cheery chimes of the machine sounding as the water begins whirring inside. Turning back to the little girl, I crouch down again to her height, my heart aching as she winces slightly. "If you want, you can use my bathtub to get cleaned up. I don't have baby wipes, but I can give you a washcloth and some soap and you can use the tub's faucet. Does that sound alright?" She nods silently as her wide eyes gaze into mine, seeming relieved that she'll be allowed to do it on her own.

"Alright bunny, this way," I tell her as I rise back up to a standing position, guiding her over and into the bathroom. Switching the light on, I make my way over to the tub and get the water running, making sure it's a comfortable temperature for her before stepping back over to the cabinet under the sink and pulling her out a clean washcloth. Willa stands sheepishly in the doorway, watching my every move as I prepare the things for her, grabbing a big fluffy towel and setting it down right outside the tub. "Here's the soap I have; it's some really nice hand-made stuff I got at the market," I tell her as I place the bar down on the edge of the tub along with the cloth. "Okay sweetheart, how about I go back out into the living room and let you get cleaned up, and you can come join me when you're done," I propose.

"N-no beating?" she mumbles quietly, still frightened that she might be punished for her mistake.

"No babydoll, no beating," I promise her. "You did a good job, coming and asking for help," I add, remembering something Steve had told me about her therapy and exposure work. While it would've made a lot more sense for her to seek out Steve instead of me, the fact that she asked anyone at all is progress. "Willa, can I ask you a question?" I ask slowly, not wanting to overwhelm her or make her fears escalate. Her eyes widen slightly, but she nods. "Honey, why didn't-... why didn't you ask Steve?" I question softly. "If you're worried that I might beat you, too, then... what difference did it make?"

Her gaze falls to the floor as she trembles in the doorway, swallowing hard before revealing her answer. "D-don't... don't want Daddy to beat m-me," she whispers. "P-pounded that guy's face in... h-he could hurt me really b-bad." My heart breaks at her revelations, but they make sense, so I nod. She does have a point. While I was mutilated to be a super soldier like Steve, it's no secret that he's the stronger of the two of us. If Willa's train of thought was that either way she would be beaten, and she was just trying to avoid as much damage as possible, her choice makes sense.

"Little dove," I breathe sadly, not even sure where to begin. "Sweetie, Steve would never hurt you; he'd never beat you. He loves you so much, so, so much, and he'd never do something like that," I tell her, but I know that her worries are deeply engraved in her brain, and that it'll take a lot more time and experience than just simple words to put them at ease. "Everyone has accidents, honey. Everyone does when they're little, especially when they've gone through as many scary things as you have," I reason. "Steve knows that; he would never be angry with you for it. He'd do the same thing I'm doing, help you clean up and wash the sheets. That's all," I coo, wishing I could prove it to her. "Bunny, you're always welcome to come to me for help. I'll always do my best to help you. But Steve wants to help you too, Willa. That's what he's there for; that's what Daddy's are for."

Willa sniffles and I sigh, deciding that at this point it's probably wisest to just let the poor thing get clean before pursuing any further discussion on the matter. "Here, I'll let you wash up," I tell her as I step past her out into the hallway, closing the door over behind me before heading back out into the living room.

As I continue to listen to the water run faintly from the bathroom, I pull my phone out from my pocket, unlocking it and pulling up Steve's contact. As much as I hate going against Willa's wishes, I think the smartest thing to do would be to have him come down here and address the situation as soon as possible. Besides, I don't want him to wake up and find her missing; that would scare the shit out of him. Letting out a deep sigh, I hit his number, a call popping up and ringing only a few times before there's an answer.

"Buck?" Steve's sleepy voice calls.

"Hey pal," I greet lowly, taking a seat on the couch. "You're probably gonna wanna throw on some shoes and come down here."

[Steve]

"She what?" I exclaim as I throw on a sweatshirt, making my way quickly through the apartment to the front door to slip on my shoes.

"Yeah, she showed up in nothing but her pajama shirt and underwear, carrying all her sheets at her feet. Said she had a bad dream," he explains.

"Oh god," I breathe, brushing my hair back anxiously as I make my way out the front door, being sure to lock it behind me. "I'm so sorry, Buck. I had no idea she would do something like this. I should've guessed something might-"

"No, no, it's okay, Steve," he tells me quickly. "Really, it's no trouble. I'm glad she felt safe enough to come to me about it. It's good that she came to someone, anyone."

"You said she was begging not to be beaten?" I repeat what he had said, making my way across the porch to the stairs.

"Yeah. She's still pretty worried that she's going to be punished for stuff like this. I told her that neither of us would ever do that, of course, but it's just gonna take time," he replies.

"Yeah- we're working on it with her therapist, but I think you're right," I agree as I make my way down to Bucky's apartment. "I'm outside," I let him know.

The front door to the home opens up before me, and I switch my phone off, shoving it in my pocket as my friend lets me in. Closing the door behind me, he offers me a sad smile. "Hey, punk," he mutters, patting me lightly on the shoulder.

"Hey, thanks again for everything," I say sincerely, still feeling incredibly guilty for all the trouble he's gone through for the little girl.

"No problem, pal," he waves it off as I step into the apartment, hearing water running back from what I'm guessing is the bathroom. "She's getting herself cleaned off right now. I have her sheets and clothes in the washer, and she's got a big t-shirt of mine to wear in the meantime."

"Okay. Thanks Buck," I thank him again. "Does she know you called me?"

"Uhh... no," he admits, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "She begged me not to tell you, but I figured it would be better for you to come and get the situation addressed." I nod, thankful for his decision. Hearing the water shutting off, Buck looks behind him before turning back to me, suggesting, "Maybe we should meet her at the bathroom, so she doesn't try to run back through the house or anything."

"Sounds good to me," I agree, doing my best to mentally prepare myself for whatever kind of reaction the little girl might have to my arrival.

"I'm gonna let her know you're here, and then I'll let you take over," he decides as he leads me back to the closed bathroom door. The light from inside peeks out from under the wood as faint shuffling can be heard from the other side. "I don't wanna overwhelm her with both of us in a small space like that, so I'll just let you handle it," he tells me, earning a nod.

Turning and knocking gently against the door, Bucky calls, "Hey Willa? You doin' okay in there?"

"A-a'most done," she calls back, the shakiness of her voice causing my heart to break. The whole situation in general is incredibly saddening. While I think Bucky is right in that it's an improvement for her to have sought out any help at all, it still makes me feel unbelievably guilty that she's so scared of me, apparently even more scared than she is of Buck. "O-okay," she says.

"Alright," Bucky says opening up the door slightly. From where I'm standing, I can't quite be seen yet by the child. "Sweetheart, while you were getting cleaned up, I had to call Steve and let him know what was going on," he tells her slowly. Though I can't see her, I can just picture her beginning to dissolve into a mess of anxiety. Soft whimpers can be heard from inside the room, making my heart tighten in my chest. "Shhh bunny. it's okay. He's not angry, not at all. He's just happy you're here and safe," he murmurs soothingly, stepping aside and motioning for me to join him.

Taking a deep breath, I shift over into the doorway; the sight before me breaks my heart. Willa stands trembling on the bath mat in one of Bucky's old t-shirts, her eyes overflowing with tears as a look of pure terror and betrayal makes its way onto her face. She flinches back at the sight of me, bumping up against the wall behind her and letting out a frightened sound as she realizes she's trapped. "I'll let you two have some time alone," Bucky sighs as he steps away, heading back into one of the rooms at the back of the apartment and closing the door.

"Willa-bug," I coo, keeping my voice as soft and low as possible. The poor child's knees begin to wobble underneath her as she stares at me, her bottom lip trembling in fear. Stepping a bit inside the bathroom, I bend my knees in hopes of coming off as unintimidating as I can, though my efforts seem to do little in helping the girl relax. "Hey sweetheart- it's okay, Willa. You're not in trouble. I'm not here to hurt you," I tell her softly.

The little girl's chest rises and falls erratically as tears continue pouring down her cheeks, a soft whimper rising in her throat before she opens her mouth, barely able to make any sound at all. "P-... p-p-..." she tries, her eyes widening in fear as she struggles to speak. "P-please," she finally manages, adding, "'m sorry, 'm so s-sorry. Didn't m-mean to. D-don't beat me, please don't beat me."

"Willa, Willa, shhh," I soothe, inching myself a tiny bit closer to her as she shakes feverishly against the wall. "Shhh, sweetheart- I'm not gonna beat you, doll. No beating," I tell her reassuringly as I bend down onto my knees before her, causing her to jump again. "I know you didn't mean to, sweetie. I know. It's okay, doll. You're not in trouble. Bucky said you had a nightmare?"

She nods, swallowing down her sobs as I soften my expression for her, murmuring, "Oh honey, that's alright. You couldn't help it that you had a scary dream." The look in her eyes tells me that she's skeptical of my words, but I continue, "It's okay, accidents happen. You're still little, sweetie. No one's mad at you. And you did a good job, you asked someone for help. That was really brave of you, darlin'. I'm so proud of you."

Willa's eyes widen at my words, and she asks, "P-p'oud of me?"

Despite her confusion, I just nod, explaining, "Yeah baby, you were really scared, but you came to Bucky for help anyway. You didn't do it all by yourself. That was good, Willa. You did such a good job." The child blinks, still appearing perplexed at my words. "Next time, it would be good if you could come to me," I add. "I know you were scared that you were going to be beaten, and that you would rather be hurt by Bucky than me. But no one's gonna beat you here, Willa. Never. I'll never hurt you or punish you, no matter what you do."

Willa's eyes gaze warily into mine and I open up my arms for her, earning a soft flinch. "Here sweetheart, you want a hug?" I offer, wanting nothing more than to wrap her up safely in my embrace. A pitiful look of longing forms on her face as she takes in my position, letting out a quiet whine of want. "It's okay doll, Daddy won't hurt you. Just wanna hold you."

And to my surprise, despite all the fear lingering in her big green eyes, Willa slowly steps forward, her face tucking itself away into my chest as I wrap her up softly and lift her off the floor. Carefully, I rise to a standing position, holding her safely against me as her tears begin to soak through my sweatshirt. "Hey- shhh," I soothe, rubbing her back tenderly as I sway her gently from side to side. "You're okay, Willa-bug. I've got you, it's okay."

"N-no beating, please no beating," she begs quietly.

"No beating," I repeat back to her, "no beating, baby. Just soft. Just safe." For several minutes, the little girl continues to cry silently into the damp fabric of my sweatshirt as I keep rocking her, offering quiet shushes every now and then in hopes of soothing her fears. Eventually, her breaths start to even out, and it occurs to me that she must be exhausted after all the night's events.

"You tired, sweetheart?" I ask, stroking down her hair gently as she shifts weakly against me, her head completely limp on my chest. She nods silently and I stroke her hair again, telling her, "That's okay, honey. It's pretty late, and you've had quite the night. I'm gonna thank Buck again and let him know we'll come get the sheets in the morning, but you can close your eyes if you want to, okay? I'll hold onto you," I soothe.

"H-have to sleep in th-the cold?" she whimpers, catching me slightly off guard.

"In the cold? What do you mean, baby?" I ask as I head out of the bathroom, shutting off the light behind me.

"N-no sheets, n-no blankies," she pouts.

"Oh," I say with a slight chuckle, now understanding. "No baby, of course not. You can sleep with me in my bed. How does that sound?"

"Daddy's bed," she hums lovingly, her thumb having made its way up into her little mouth. "Big. Lots'a blankies"

"That's right," I agree, "big bed, soo many blankies, baby. Plenty of room for both of us. And that way, if you have another scary dream, Daddy'll be right there to make it all better," I add.

"All better," she mumbles sleepily into her thumb, her eyelids fluttering as they fall shut.

"All better, sweetheart," I coo, rubbing her back lovingly as she falls asleep right in my arms.

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quitetheketch-moved · 2 years

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Hi, If I could have your attention

TLDR: I am finally getting out of my abusive living situation (and the American south can we get a hell yeah) and into a safer one; however, I still need to tie up some loose ends before I leave at the end of Aug/early Sept. I need funds for the move and for taking care of those loose ends. Knock on wood this will be the last time I need to fundraise and I’ll be able to carve out some stability and self suffeciency.

(You can also help feed me directly from my wishlist here)

(I also have a non-essential wishlist with some household items I will eventually need, but it's much lower priority)

What I need:

To go back to my GP ($35 copay) to get a 90-day supply of my meds, so I don't have withdrawals of my heart med and antidepressant ($120 estimate). I need to get flea treatment items for my pets and bedding, so I don't take my current problem with me (95$ estimate for everything). I need to cover my last month’s bills and food here until I leave ($350).

And frankly, any other help that can be given is appreciated right now to help fund the move and to help me settle into my new home. I’ll be starting over after 15 years in an abusive home situation, and that scares me.

385/600

*Paypal * Venmo * Cashapp

I’m only alive because of the kindness of my mutuals who have kept me afloat through these hellish last few years, and I want to thank each one of you from the bottom of my heart. If you’ve given, please don't feel obligated to give more - I only ask you reblog this and help it spread, so maybe I can gather enough pocket change to get done the things I need done.

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tooruswhre · 2 years

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「 𝟮𝟮:𝟮𝟴 」 - shoto todoroki

i didn’t proofread ! and i made this a while ago. posting now since i haven’t uploaded in a while lol. i will put something out later tonight.

you found yourself roaming the halls of the dormitory. for so long you kept flicking the elevator buttons nearly jamming yourself between the main and 1st floor.

thats when you decided to give it a rest, skipping down the fifth floor at shoto’s dorm.

you decided to knock in hopes of him not being sleep by now, it was only ten in the night after all. more often than not, you always catch him awake with random thoughts bubbling in his head.

on the other end, slight shuffling of the covers and padded floors make a wisp noise; almost like his cover met the floor.

he was contemplating weather to answer the door or not, his tired worn out limbs that he abused just a few hours ago fought against him to twist the knob of his door.

“yeah y/n?” he asked with a tired aloof yawn escaping his chapped rosy lips, hair dropping just above his brow line. he had just closed his eyes not too long ago, but the wood met with your skeletal fingers was enough to wake him up.

“sorry if i woke you, i was.. just hoping if we could just hang out maybe? only if you’re up for it! i know i proba-“

“sure,” he muttered, opening his door just enough for you to slip through the entrance. how could he say no to you? you’re his best friend and hell, he did need the company.

after failing the provisional license exam he wasn’t looking forward to hearing his father’s mouth about how he should’ve did this better in this section of his physical abilities.

the two of you sat down after he turned on a light to brighten the room for you two. he opened the balcony door to let fresher air in and aiming to cure his tiredness.

he lended you his ear to your rambling on about your day and little nothings you did throughout with side stories squeezing their way into each topic. he couldn’t help but feel a smile creep onto his face watching you be so expressive about a day like today.

“how about you shoto? how’s life going?” you ask watching the smile slowly drop from his lips, placing his arms behind him.

“nothing out of the ordinary,” he replies with a shrug of the shoulders, he watched your eyebrows knot together and a sly smirk like smile on your face at his response.

it’s not that he didn’t want to tell you about his day, he thinks you may get bored from hearing his complaining about the provisional and about his dad that he dreading the most at the moment.

“let me guess,” you say, pointing a finger at him causing his face to go blank awaiting your response, “you think you’re going to bore me again?“

“what makes you say that?”

“because you do it a thousan’ times, shoto. you think you’re going to bore me with your day, but you should know i really do love hearing your stories.”

that was when you notice a small grin plaster on his face. one that he didn’t try to hide. he felt foolish thinking that you wouldn’t care to listen to anything he tells you.

he couldn’t help but get distracted by how your strands knotted together from the current outside. how your orbs glistened from his room lights that were shaded with the green decorated in his room.

“okay then, i’ll tell you.” he said sitting straight as he watched you lean closer in interest.

thats when he knew you were the one.

#shoto x reader #anime and manga #boku no hero academia #mha headcanons #mha imagines #anime x reader #bnha shoto todoroki #my hero academia #todoroki shouto #x reader #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugo

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autumntouched · 1 year

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*at a sports bar*

*hangman flirting but looks like he’s basically harassing phoenix because they get borderline verbally abusive during football season*

bartender: excuse me ma’am, is this man bothering you?

phoenix: yeah but he’s my husband so i kinda signed up for it

she probably gets pulled into the bathroom during halftime after that

Oh dear, I'm sorry this one took so long. It's more suggestive than spicy but proceed with caution...

Fantasy Season

Natasha throws her arms up when the Eagles’ defense manages to bat the ball out of the air before it can sail into the hands of the Cowboys’ tight end. “Yes!” she cheers. They’re the defense for her fantasy football team, and if they keep playing like this through the rest of the game, she’s going to bump Payback out of the top spot in their Dagger Squad league.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Jake demands loudly enough to be heard over the bar’s chatter and the volume of the game. “You can’t wear my jersey and cheer for the other team!”

She takes a hefty sip of her beer and licks the foam off her upper lip, enjoying the way it makes the corners of his frown go slack. “Can too, when my fantasy team is kicking your ass.”

He scowls, and she smiles sweetly. Having to cheer against his team for her fantasy win serves him right for swooping the 49ers defense before she could, and she’s going to make sure he never makes that mistake again. Jake props his arm on the bar and leans in, his face so close to hers she goes almost cross-eyed keeping him in focus. “Babe, you either cheer for the Cowboys or take the shirt off!”

Natasha tosses her hair and takes another sip of her beer, her eyes flicking to the television where the Cowboys offense jogs off the field for a time out. “I don’t think that’s going to end the way you want it to,” she says casually. “I may or may not be wearing a see-through bra. With matching underwear, if I’m wearing any.”

Jake swears and nearly knocks over his own drink. She’s also going to make him regret dragging her to this bar on her birthday weekend because the TV in their hotel room wasn’t big enough for him.

The Cowboys take their positions again on the field, and this time Prescott completes the pass to Lamb who makes it to the ten yard line. Fuck. That’s Jake’s fantasy wide receiver.

“Boom!” he shouts, slapping his chest, the last part of their conversation momentarily forgotten. He turns and gets in her face. She back pedals, trying not to laugh and egg him on. “Now who’s kicking who’s ass, huh! What you gotta say to that? Disrespect the jersey and you get disrespected back!”

She notices people starting to look their way and presses a palm to his chest to slow his roll. "Okay, cowboy, rein it in."

Jake shakes his head. "Uh uh. You want to mess with the bull, baby, you better be ready for the horns."

Someone clears their throat. “Excuse me, ma’am, is this man bothering you?”

Natasha looks over at the bartender leaning forward over the bar, her heavily eyelined eyes narrowed dangerously at Jake. Despite her neat ponytail, long nails, and crisp button down, it’s clear anyone should think twice before crossing her. Her nails click a warning on the wood, somehow audible over all the noise.

Jake deflates some and takes a slight, involuntary step back. Chuckling, Natasha brings up the hand with her wedding rings. “Yeah, all the time. But he’s my husband so I kinda signed up for it.” The bartender doesn’t look fully convinced yet, even though she seems a little less ready to throw a throat chop across the bar. Natasha grins, deliberately not looking at Jake when she says, “The thing about marrying a winner is he can be a sore loser when his wife kicks his ass in fantasy football.”

That finally wins the bartender over, and she winks. “Okay, as long as you say so. But if he gives you any trouble, you know where to find me.”

Natasha elbows Jake playfully in the ribs. “Believe me, I think he’s going to be on his best behavior for the rest of night so I already have enough to thank you for. Aren’t you, dickhead?”

Jake gives the woman a friendly salute and one of his most charming grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

The bartender laughs throatily and moves away, gesturing jokingly with two fingers to let him know she still has her eye on him. Natasha bumps Jake with her hip. “Saved your ass again, didn’t I?” she smiles before taking a sip of her beer.

He slides an arm around her waist and pulls her into him. “So you married a winner, huh?”

"Did you hear what I said about kicking your ass?"

"Was that before or after you admitted that I'm a catch?"

She can’t stand how much she loves his smug expression. “Don’t make me regret what I had to say to keep you out of trouble.”

Leaning in as if he’s going to place a kiss behind her ear, he whispers, “Can’t believe you made me lie to that pretty lady because I’m definitely not going to be on my best behavior when I find out whether you're telling the truth about what you’re wearing.”

After that, she can barely focus on the game, too aware of his presence and simmering desire beside her. When Jake glances toward the bathroom during halftime, she gladly follows. Natasha’s not sure which of them feels more rewarded when he figures out exactly what she does–or doesn’t–have on under her jean skirt but she enjoys the taste of victory either way.

#i love your notes #talk to me #hannix fic #hannix football rivalry au #hannix football rivalry #natasha phoenix trace x jake hangman seresin #natasha trace fic #phoenix fic

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armpirate · 1 year

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UNDER YOUR SKIN || JJK || Ch. 25

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: You were awful on anything related to flirting, guys and sex. He was the perfect ladies man. You wanted to get rid of your virginity. And he was there to help you with everything you needed. You didn't have the best start, but that didn't mean you wouldn't have the best of the endings.

Warnings: first time attempt, vaginal sex, hints of trauma and abuse)

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Ever since they started, I did a good job ignoring those nightmares. But yesterday everything felt so vivid, so distressing, that I forgot where I was and who I was with. I've also tried to give it a meaning, it could be one of my insecurities acting up whenever I'm around Jungkook. But it stresses me the fact that the house seems familiar. I have the feeling it actually exists, and I've been there at least once, I can even remember the smell of musty wood. And that would mean those nightmares aren't actually made up, but a memory.

Or maybe I'm just thinking too much about it.

I'm brought back to reality when one of the customers snaps his fingers at me, smiling satisfied when he finally gets me to look at him and pay attention to what he wants.

The fact that my boss is here should've made me be more aware of the environment I'm in and how I can't space out whenever I feel like it. Thank god Jim is too lost in his own world and the group of people he's been paying attention to for the past thirty minutes to even notice it.

And just as expected, he leaves after there are only two tables left. I gotta say he's stayed around longer than he usually does whenever he comes around. Usually he only comes mid-shift, and when he leaves depends on whether we have everything under control or everything is a chaos because of the big amount of people. Like what happened today.

It's Saturday, so it isn't surprising there were a hell lot of customers. Also there isn't a better mix than drunk assholes pushing your buttons and sore legs because you wanted to have fun the night before, and said pain gets multiplied by twenty because you have to walk and stand for eight hours.

I start picking up all the empty glasses when the last table has already paid and is about to leave. Although two knocks on the crystal door, after I see them standing up and leaving, makes me think I will have to fight a drunken asshole because he won't want to leave. It isn't totally a weekend if that doesn't happen.

—We're closed —I inform, not lifting my gaze to the door.

—That's why I'm here.

His voice is so recognizable, it makes me smile instantly to know he's here. Jungkook enters the bar, taking off his jacket while he makes his way to the counter just to leave it there along with a small plastic bag he brought. I don't need to tell him, he walks to the other tables just to do the same thing I'm doing.

—Should I start sharing my tips with you? —I joke—. Every time you come here, you end up cleaning.

—Artist in the morning and pub cleaner at night —he frowns—. Sounds like a lame superhero parody.

—It fits you perfectly then —I tease him.

—Low blow, cocktease —he points his finger at me.

I simply shrug, unable to hide my smile. Not even when we are in silence. It's crazy what he's able to do only with his presence.

—What's the plan for tonight? —I dare to ask.

—We're traveling back in time.

I'm taken aback by his response. Is it going to be one of those weird thematic dates, similar to parties based in the eighties and stuff like that? If so, he should've told me before so I could've gotten something ready.

—You didn't live your teenage years like everyone did —he walks to the counter, and supports his elbows on the surface—. So I thought, how can someone go on adult dates when they haven't gone on average dates first?

—You mean I'm back to being sixteen?

He nods and smirks, before speaking again.

—And you'll pick what kind of crush I am: the bad boy you're sneaking to see or the high school crush.

—Which one were you?

—Neither —he snorts—. I told you I was a donkey. I wasn't lying. I didn't like studying, but I did what I was told to. Normal dude.

—Then play that —I shrug—. I'm on a date with the normal donkey—I fake a disappointed tone.

—Hey, the normal donkey is a sweetheart —he tries to defend himself.

—That's why I picked him.

He looks down and smiles, trying to hide his face from me. Although I can catch a glimpse of his pink cheeks before his locks get in the way.

✸ ✸ ✸

When we're finally done with tidying up the bar, I go to the bathroom to change my black t-shirt to a salmon one and a denim jacket. When I meet him again, he acts shocked and surprised to see me, looking at me from head to toe.

—You look beautiful.

—You're so annoying —I hit his arm, making him chuckle.

—Shall we go?

After nodding, I lead the way outside. Although I stop in front of the door to set the alarm and close it. When I turn around, he's already on his motorbike, waiting for me while holding the handlebar.

—The donkey knows how to ride a motorbike? —I joke, walking up to him.

—The donkey has a dark past, so he's also the bad boy your parents wouldn't want you to date.

—You're taking this too seriously —I cackle.

I hop on the motorbike, noticing while I'm still placing myself behind him how the purple is already fading. Although I really like this color on him, I'm already missing his natural hair color.

Jungkook doesn't tell me where we are going, or what's the plan. He starts the engine and starts driving, only dedicating me a soft smile before. Unlike other times, I like the idea of not knowing what's to come. And the concept of our date is heart-warming, I wouldn't have thought of something like this myself. So the fact that he did means a lot to me.

And I'm going to be honest, when he said he was planning the typical teenage date, nothing came to mind. But when he parks his motorbike in the parking lot near the port, and asks me to follow him until we stop in front of a small sign that has "Bowling & Games" with pink neon lights, I know he put a lot of thought into it.

—Is it open?

—Yup —he smiles proudly—. I spent all evening trying to find a place that was open at this time, and I found this. The bowling is closed, but we can spend some time at the arcade.

Honestly? He could've told me to take a stroll around my neighborhood and it'd have been fine by me. So the fact that he put so much effort on it only makes it even better.

—So this is how you won girls over? —I finally ask when we get to the arcade side of the establishment.

—This is how I desperately tried to win girls over, yes.

While we are at the arcade, we don't talk much. Most of our conversation is reduced to insults and threats, and several dares while we're competing against each other. How competitive we both are isn't good, and clearly neither of us are good losers. Proof of that: we've played on the hockey table six times already, and it's always because the other wants a rematch.

I know all his moves, I know how nervous and impatient he is getting by the way he jumps on his place and twists his tongue against his cheek. He also cracks his neck on both sides, and gives me that challenging look trying to intimidate me.

Ater his confident look turns into an annoyed one when I score the third goal and he's still at zero. He keeps talking to himself, pouting his lips as he usually does when he's ranting or complaining about something. And I find it funny and endearing enough to have me slipping my hand away from the lodge, just so he can slip the disc a few more times.

That smirk and challenging look comes back to his face when we are in a tie. But he obviously doesn't leave it there.

—Cocktease, I told you I'm an ace at this. See how I ascended? —he bends to get better movements— I was the best at this back in Seoul. Don't feel disappointed.

—What do you mean? —I ask annoyed— I let you score all those goals. We'd have finished the match by now.

—It's alright. You don't need to make up exc...

While he's talking, and trying to lecture me, I hit the disc and make it enter his lodge as he tremendously fails while trying to block it.

—What did you say about being an ace and shit? —I tease him, crossing my arms over my chest.

—I was distracted —he looks around—. And I was tired of this game after playing so many times.

—Sure, mr. Ace.

We play most of the games there, and probably we would've played them all if we hadn't been kicked out of the place after Jungkook was caught getting on the basketball game to move the ball in and out the basket constantly just to break the record.

Was it my fault? Probably. I told him he wouldn't be able to break the record, and he took the challenge. But it was totally worth it just to get that picture of him climbing over the crystal wall, with his legs parted, while trying the hardest he could to get the highest score. I'd dare him to do it again only to laugh with him like this.

—He kicked us out, but let's see who breaks the record now.

And that only makes me burst into a harder laughter, that forces me to hold onto his arm just to keep the balance.

When we both stop laughing, Jungkook leads the way to the port and asks me to check my bag. I open it, thinking I won't find anything, but instead, I find a transparent plastic bag filled with ice cream shaped sweets.

—There are no ice cream shops open so late, so I had to improvise —he snatched the bag away from my hands.

—When did you put it in my bag? —although I like the surprise, I'm way too curious to let that slip.

—It was on the counter. I saw it when I was putting the glasses inside the washing machine —he informs me—. I didn't think we'd find the plastic bag on the motorbike when we came back, so your bag was the plan B.

—Smart boy.

He smiles wide, opening the bag and finally letting me pick one of the sweets, just so he can pick another one.

—Oh, ice cream and taking a walk? —he nods— I like it.

We start walking, getting closer to the port and filling the silence with the sound of the wood of the boats cracking because of the movement of the water. He pats my arm, and I open the plastic bag for him so he picks another one.

—How long have you been in New York?

—Five or six years —he scrunches his nose, smiling nervously while trying to remember—. I started the degree at twenty, but joined the military service a year later... Wait, I was seventeen when I graduated, that in Korean age is nineteen and I'm twenty-eight, almost-twenty nine...

He gets lost trying to remember when he did whatever he did, his eyes are up, almost as if he were trying to sneak them inside his brain to get a glimpse of the information he seems to be missing.

—Five years ago —he finishes—. I asked to be transferred after my parents moved here because of Soo, so I finished the degree here.

—How was it? I bet it was difficult at first —we walk side by side, at a slow pace.

—It was —he nods—. But it could've been worse. I started working with Mark almost as soon as I landed in the US, and by the time I graduated, Mark had already turned me into a partner in the studio. I also met Leslie there, so I found myself with a girlfriend and a new group of friends quite fast.

—Do you miss Korea?

—Sometimes —his hands slide through his hair, taking the long locks away from his face so he can look at me properly—. We should take a trip one day. I bet you'd love it.

I can't hide the smile on my face that forms after he says that. Jungkook didn't say that I should go once and visit the country, he said we both should. The two of us together. And whether he's just saying it because it just ran through his mind, or whether he actually wants me to go with me, it's still special for me the wording he used.

—What about you? Do you miss New Jersey?

—Not really —I play with the plastic bag—. I didn't do anything to miss it. I made no memories there, so I don't think there is much to miss.

—Aren't your parents there?

—I haven't talked to them since I moved out. They were devastated when I told them I was going to move here and I was going to study Fine Arts —I tilt my head—. Actually, I did see them when my grandma died, but we didn't talk much —I chuckle—, if not at all. But yeah... it's not like we talk every day and we count the days until I get a few days off so I can see them. They haven't made the effort to come and see me either. I guess it's fine.

It's fine. I will forever be grateful for how hard they worked so I could get everything I needed, and I can't say I feel nothing for them. They will forever be my parents, and if they ever needed something I'd rush wherever they are to give it to them, but some relationships aren't meant to exist. It's better this way than us three forcing the happy family image.

—I'm sorry to hear that.

—Don't be. It's okay.

We stay quiet for a few minutes, although I keep seeing him trying to get the conversation started. He moves his head trying to find the right way to bring up the topic.

—Did you... —he thinks the question— Did you meet someone the week we didn't talk?

—Why? —I giggle— Would you be jealous if I said I did?

It starts as a joke, I meant it as a joke in a dumb attempt to be funny. But his fast "yes", with no hesitation nor doubt in his tone, makes me pause.

—That week I was too busy thinking about you and cursing your existence.

—That's why my ears were beeping all the time.

I see Jungkook laughing, and at the same time his steps also slow down until he stops walking. I look at him, waiting for him to say something. But I'm not ready for the look he's giving me right now. The street lights reflecting in his pupils just make it seem as if I could see the stars through his eyes.

—Fuck it. I can't go slower with you —he mutters.

Before I'm able to react his hands are wrapped around my neck and his lips are locked with mine. My eyelids fall closed when the softness of his lips make me drunk enough that I want to fully enjoy him. His taste mixed with the metallic taste of his lip ring has always had it easy to make me go down bad, but tonight it feels different.

The kiss doesn't go crazy, we don't lose our senses the way we usually do when we end up in this situation. We just kiss and enjoy this beautiful moment until he breaks the kiss. Jungkook's forehead rests on mine, our breaths mixing while our lips are still rubbing against each other.

—Shall we go to my place?

—We always go to your place —I giggle, my arms still wrapped around his waist.

—That's because I like having you there.

He places a soft kiss on the tip of my nose, and holds my hand before he starts leading the way back to where his motorbike is placed.

✸ ✸ ✸

I wasn't nervous when he parked the motorbike and kept being touchy and kissy while we were on the lift. I started being nervous when he made me wait outside of his apartment, and closed the door right on my nose. No explanation, no warning. Just a "Give me a second", with a worried look and the door being slammed.

That, and what happened yesterday only makes me think the worst for a quick second. The worry disappears fast though, as soon as he opens the door again and Jungkook has a radiant smile while the rest of his house is still dark.

He invites me to get in, moving his body away from the door and opening a small gap -big enough so I can walk past it with no problem. And I swear nothing would've prepared me for the way my heart squeezes with such emotion when I see everything he has prepared for me. The path of rose petals from his door to the bedroom, his house only being lit by some candles strategically positioned so he wouldn't need to turn on the lights... This is only for me.

—I know it's a cliche —I hear him on my back—, and something way too used in movies. But you deserved something special, and I couldn't find anything else that could've made it bet...

I interrupt him. I turn on my feet and pull him closer by the neck, shutting him up when my lips collide against his. It's a cliche, it's something that was overused by movies, but it's something he's done for me. He could've done nothing. He could've taken the step last night when I first told him I was ready, he could've gone on with all of it without doing any of this. Yet here we are.

We don't need to speak. The intensity of the kiss and our shaky breaths are loud enough for the both of us. I'm not aware of how big he is, compared to me, until he pushes me and corners me against the door. There's something about my head resting against the wood, his hand pulling my hips closer to his body and his tongue doing those magical moves while we're kissing that make me lose my head.

I'm ready to give him everything.

It just takes us a few minutes more to start taking our clothes off in between kisses and playful bites. Soon everything's gone and we are left only with our underwear. And there's no room for shyness and insecurity. It's just the two of us and this moment. Jungkook picks me up with barely any effort, both of his hands holding my thighs and lifting my body as if I weighed nothing.

Jungkook leaves me carefully on the bed, as if I were the most precious thing in this room and he didn't want me to break. He hovers over me, kissing every bit of skin he finds from my cheeks to my pelvis, leaving my body full of wet kisses. Unlike other times, he doesn't look at me like a prey, he's trying to make it as thoughtful as possible.

He starts sliding my panties down my legs, and he also takes off his boxers so we both are equally naked. He crawls up over my body again, kissing my lips slowly, but with such intensity that I'm convinced I'll go crazy. One of his hands is cupping my cheek, while the other is wandering all over my body, tracing my curves as if he were painting them until his hand finds the knee.

—Open your legs a bit for me —he demands with a raspy voice.

That tone goes straight to my core, that throbs and clenches around nothing, eager for him, eager for what's to come.

His hand moves up my leg again, and disappears in between our bodies until his fingertips meet with the wetness of my pussy. He groans on my lips, kissing me again, while two of his fingers slide in between my folds.

—You're beautiful.

His thumb ghosts my clit in circles, teasing me while two of his fingers are tempting my entrance. He smiles satisfied when I lift my hips, asking for more. And he gives it to me with no hesitation. His digits dig inside, opening me up, stretching me out with delicacy. They move in and out with a slow pace, but he makes sure they are knuckles deep inside of me every time he gets the chance.

Just the image of the tattoos of his fingers disappearing slowly is enough to make me moan right now.

—You're taking it so well, baby.

The combination of what his eyes are showing is confusing and exciting. They're dark, showing the self control he's putting himself under not to fuck my brains out right now; but at the same time, they're filled with care and admiration, as if this first time will forever be marked for us two. And that, that's the duality I always talk about when it comes to him. And seeing it mixed in his eyes for the very first time is the hottest thing I've ever seen.

—Are you ready?

—Yeah —I'm not aware of how nervous I am until I hear my trembling voice.

—If you ever want me to stop —he warns me—, just say it. I won't get mad. Remember communication and knowing your limits.

My heart beats faster when I see it happening. He leans toward the night stand to pull out a shiny wrapping. And I can't look away while he's opening it up with his teeth, taking out the condom to roll it down his cock. Nervousness hits my body right at the same time excitement does.

Jungkook's eyes fall on mine again, looking for reassurance as his cock is lined up towards my entrance. The tip rests against it, and it must be pretty obvious everything that I'm feeling right now, because he cups my cheek again and leans to kiss me again.

I know he's doing it to distract me from the pain, he just wants to make it easier for me. But that darkness suddenly puts my body in alert mode. And it only gets worse when he invades me. I stop feeling him, I stop being aware he's the one trying to make me feel good. Panic installs in my brain, and everything just stops working for me. I'm unable to follow his kiss, or move my hands on his back to encourage him to go further. Instead, I break down crying.

—Stop —I ask him, pushing him by his shoulders—. Please, stop —my voice sounds desperate.

And he does.

He pulls out when I first ask him and cups my cheeks, trying to make me look at him. But I'm too deep into that darkness that I can't find a way out. Every bit of arousal, excitement and confidence I felt vanished the moment I closed my eyes to be replaced by fear, insecurity and desperation to get out of here.

He's able to knock me back to this, to where we are when he hugs me and makes my head rest on his chest. The repetitive, yet soothing sound of his heart beat drags me back here, yet I seem unable to stop crying.

—I'm sorry —I manage to say in between sobs—. I ruined everything. I'm sorry.

—Shh —his fingers dig on my scalp, trying to get me to relax under his touch—. You didn't ruin anything.

That dark feeling doesn't leave me though. It's not like all the other times we were able to brush it off and just go on. It stays with me, it doesn't leave, and some disturbing images keep flashing in my head. It's like those nightmares finally made their way to real life and I can't seem to ignore it nor stop them.

None of us try to talk about it, he knows it's not the moment for it, and I'm too disturbed right now to speak more than just two words together. Jungkook holds me tight, enough to let me know that he's here, that I'm safe. He just comforts me while I'm desperately crying on his chest. Everything keeps replying in my head until it suddenly stops. I'm not aware when I fall asleep, but everything just goes black and stops.

#fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #tattoistjk #tattooau #armpirate

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mymisfitsbabe · 1 year

Text

Demons Play

(Trigger warning! Abuse, blood gore, Neil being Neil and getting his face caved in for it. Slurs and hate speech used.)

Waking up in the woods Billy blinked away the confusion, what the hell? Groaning, he sat up, his skin feeling too tight, his throat dry and sore. Looking around Billy tried to remember why he was on the ground covered in leaves and dirt, coughing Billy got to his feet. Fuck, every part of him ached. Swaying Billy dusted himself off and headed back to the Camaro. There was no memory, but that felt okay, his mind told him he didn't need to know and Billy knew it was the truth.

Pulling into his driveway Billy cursed himself, of course Neil was home. Billy walked in the door and ignored the family sitting at the table opting to go straight into his room. He stumbled and tried to shake away the heavy feeling clouding his mind. Footsteps came trailing behind him and he took a breath knowing it was his father, Neil just had to make things complicated.

“Where the hell were you?” He hissed in a hushed voice.

Billy turned to face him, he looked at him empty and dazed. The older man took him in, seeing the dirt that covered him for the first time, it seemed to piss him off even more. Shifting from foot to foot Billy said nothing and his father grabbed a fistful of his hair yanking him closer so he could yell without being heard.

“Didn't we just have a conversation about you behaving like a man? I remember telling you not to give me a reason to think you're rolling around like some faggot. Now get your ass to the table and eat breakfast with your family, we'll talk about this later.”

“I need a shower.” Billy muttered after his dad let him go.

“Now.” Neil growled.

They walked over to the table together, his father handed him a plate after they sat. Eggs with bacon and toast, all bland and all simple. Billy chuckled at the food knowing it would taste as bad as it looked, Susan was one sorry cook.

“Something funny?” Neil growled.

“Your new wife cooks like shit.”

Everyone at the table stared at him in disbelief, Max’s mouth twitched up into a smile, but she quickly flattened it out and looked over at her mother, who was watching Neil with fearful eyes. Of course he should have expected it, but Billy was still taken aback by the hard backhand to the face. His cheek barely even stung. Max yelped, jerking back in her chair.

“Apologize.”

“I’m sorry you're a shitty cook Susan.” Billy said, turning his face back so he could look her in the eye, anger flaring up inside him.

Neil stood up so fast his chair hit the floor making both girls jump up, Max looked at Billy confused and scared. Billy just laughed as his father came around the table and backhanded him in the mouth, the blond slumped back in his chair still laughing.

“APOLOGIZE!”

Tasting blood Billy clenched his jaw, the rolling waves of fire and hate filling his already too tight body.

“No.”

“What did you just say to me?” Neil growled.

Billy stood up and squared his shoulders, but Neil slammed his fist down into the side of Billy’s head knocking him back down into his chair. Max reached out for Billy and Susan yanked her away, her eyes were wild and red and her face turned like she was about to cry. It cut through the anger and made him laugh.

Billy looked over at Susan with a bloody smile. “I’m sorry my mothers gone and can't teach you how to use spices.”

His father punched him this time, the force knocking Billy back into the table. Max cried out for Billy and Neil turned to face her yelling at her to shut up, Billy sat back upright and looked at the red head amused.

“Oh, Max. Don’t cry, Neil here would never dream of laying a hand on you because you aren’t his faggot son.” Billy laughed louder, it was so fucking funny.

“You asked me why I hated you, well here it is Max.” Billy again got to his feet, he spread his arms wide and smiled brightly. “I don’t hate you,” Billy dropped his hands, his face turning bitter and angry.

“I hate HIM!” Billy pointed at his dad, who responded by punching him in the mouth.

Billy staggered back, he put his hand over his mouth and used his tongue to make sure all his teeth were still in place. It hurt, but not as bad as it should have.

“Shut up!”

“Fuck you!” Billy spit blood on the table, clearing his mouth so he could speak. “She should know that you kick me around any time she acts out, she should know it's not her fucking fault I can't stand to look at her! It's you!” Billy huffed out a laugh to try and stop himself from crying.

“When the very idea that Max didn’t hate me crossed your mind you beat me so hard you almost cracked a fucking rib! That's why I can't treat her like a person, because you can't stand the thought of anyone loving me! Because faggots don't deserve to be loved, they deserve to be put in the ground!” Billy screamed so loud it hurt his throat, spit and blood flying from his mouth as he pointed his finger at his father.

Neil yelled as he hit Billy dead center in his face, Billy’s nose cracked under the pressure and Billy slumped back down into the chain again. Gasping as he tried to breath past the pain and blood he could feel his nose starting to straighten out, his body mending under skin.

“Stop it! Stop it! Leave him alone, you're killing him!” Max shrieked, jerking out of Susan's hold and running to Billy’s side.

“Shut the hell up! No son of mine will be a faggot!” Neil roared hitting Billy again, he grabbed a fist full of hair to hold Billy's face back so he could hit him again and again splitting his cheek open and ripping the old wound across his lips open.

Max threw herself across Billy’s body shielding his face and hugging him into her as tightly as she could. Billy felt her whole body shake with sobs and it hurt so much worse than he’d imanaged. It wasn't fair and Billy felt bad for her. Neil grabbed her arm and pried her off Billy, he turned her to face him and shook her yelling something Billy couldn't quite hear.

Max froze in his hold, Billy wheezed trying not to lose consciousness, feeling his wounds shifting as they tried to heal themselves. Max ended up on the ground fiery hair against the white tile, Billy closed his eyes when Neil grabbed him again.

“NO!” Max screamed, getting to her feet, she started punching Neil’s back, desperate and frantic. “Leave him alone, leave my brother alone!”

Tears welled up and Billy tried to swallow them down but he gagged on the pool of blood in his mouth. Neil growled and shoved the girl into the wall, she groaned from the force of it. Billy stood up and shoved his father away from Max. Billy spit another mouthful of blood onto the table and glared back at his dad.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" Billy yelled, punching Neil for the very first time.

"That's why you kept me! You hit me, you yell at me! Don't you ever touch her!" The words vibrated through Billy driving all the force in his body forward to hit his dad again, that white hot fury burning him down to the very core.

Neil had enough, he kicked Billy in the gut making Billy collapse into himself, once his son was hunched over he kneed him in the face. The force of the knee sent Billy stumbling back into the table. Color blossomed in his vision and nausea rolled over him, Billy gasped and gaped trying to breath, but his body was too busy trying not to black out.

Susan screamed running to Max, who was now sobbing from the ground while she watched in horror. Neil walked over to Billy grabbing him by the front of his shirt. He slammed his son down into the table, face up so he'd have to look at Neil as he hit him again. Billy was starting to lose consciousness, but as a final act of defiance Billy started laughing again.

"Since you're going to kill me anyways you might as well know. I am a faggot.” Billy barked out a laugh, blood splattering all over Neil’s shirt and face.

“That advice you gave me? I used it on my boyfriend, who I fucking love. I fucking love him and I take that scrawny brunette boy into the wood and he fucks me till I beg for more!” Billy grabbed the arm that was holding him down and lifted himself up so he could really grind the words in.

“I bought him flowers and I was gonna sing to him and dance with him and love him better than you ever taught me how.” Billy spit a wad of blood and snot into his dad’s face.

Those vile words were all it took to push Neil over the edge, he wrapped his hands around Billy's throat already trying to choke the life from him. Something cracked inside Max, she got to her feet and charged at Neil. Using all her body weight and momentum she crashed into him strong enough to knock him down. The sound of Billy sliding off the table made Max turn, she reached out for him trying to catch him before he hit the ground. Neal grabbed Max by her hair and yanked her away from Billy, he backhanded her into the ground so hard her head bounced off the floor. Susan started screaming.

"You fucking coward! You fucking piece of shit, you don't ever fucking hit my sister!" Billy bellowed, getting to his feet.

It drew Neil's attention back, Billy punched Neil dead center feeling his dad's nose crack under his knuckle just like his own had. It sent the older man reeling, but Billy kept on hitting him over and over and over till all he could hear was screaming. Max, Susan and his own. Screams filled the house.

The fury was blinding, it was too much, Billy was choking on it. It fueled him, like gasoline vapors scorching the air, fast and so hot it melted through skin in seconds. Billy felt his knuckle crack, or maybe it was Neil’s face, it pulled him out of his frenzy. Horror, no, terror froze him in place. His hand drawn back, Neil hunched against the wall as Billy held him up by his shirt, a perfect mirror of just moments ago. Billy shuttered, shock and disgust clutching at him as he realized what he’d done.

“Y-you want me to apologize?!” Billy’s voice trembled, he turned to Susan. “I’m sorry you married this piece of shit, and I hope you have enough goddamned sense to take Max and leave before he kills me and starts beating the fire out of her.”

Billy shoved his dad roughly to the ground, and Susan looked down at Neil in horror. Neil’s face was a mess of blood and spit and snot, his nose bubbled when he tried to breath and it made Billy sick to his stomach to know he’d done that.

Billy turned and helped Max up off the floor, he started to leave towing her behind him. His ‘parents’ would have enough to talk about, Max didn't need to see anymore of this mess. As they reached the door Susan screamed again calling after Neil who was charging after the kids.

Billy did the only thing he could think of to stop his dad. He kicked his dad's knee in, it bent his leg in an awkward angle and made a sound that made Billy want to puke. The old man crumbled onto the floor howling in pain. Blinking down at him, Billy took in what he had done, shock soaking into every piece of his trembling body. Max pulled him out the door.

Once the cold air hit him Billy dropped down on his hands and knees emptying his stomach on the porch, still crying Max pulled his hair out of his face and Billy let out a broken sob.

“I’m sorry Max, I’m so sorry.”

Max shook her head and hugged him to her body. “It's okay, Billy. We're okay, everything is going to be okay now.”

Feeling numb, Billy got in his car (With Max’s help), he waited for Max who climbed into the passenger seat. Once he heard the door slam shut Billy turned on the car. It listened to it rumble and pushed the gas to hear it roar while he looked at the house that he’d never be allowed to go back to. Tears rolling down his face Billy put the car in gear and reversed out of the driveway saying a silent goodbye to his home, to his life, to his prison.

Billy sped away from the house. What the hell had he done? Rolling down his window Billy spit a glob of blood out, fuck, his skin was on fire.

They pulled up to Sinclair's house. Max and Billy sat silently in the car, Billy just stared into nothing trying to understand what he did. Max couldn't stop watching him, she was quietly crying, her cheek blossoming with a large bruise, a small cut crusting over with dried blood.

All Max wanted to do was berate Billy with questions, and make him look less like a child. Because in that moment Billy looked about ten years younger, covered in blood and starting to swell. Max hesitantly grabbed his shoulder. Slowly Billy looked over at her, he touched her cheek gently remembering the first time he had gotten hit. Trying to choke back tears, Billy started to shake again, Max wrapped her arms around him.

“Don’t go home… You stay away from Neil, stay here or with a friend. Just don't let him catch you.”

“No,” Max pulled away and shook her head, that fire red hair tangling from the frantic motion. “Where are you going?”

“I… I need to go tell my boyfriend that I love him.” Billy laughed dryly.

#Harringrove #Billy Hargrove #Max Mayfield #Neil Hargrove being a fuck wad #Neil Hargrove getting his face smashed in #Billy also getting his face smashed in #Stranger things

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spookiifi · 2 years

Text

Wings of Fire and Stardust

Time for a dragon alternate universe involving sun and moon, and a few guest mentions along the way.

When your baby brother gets taken by the most dangerous dragons to exist, it's up to you to track him down.

Which spirals out of control when you're forced to make a life changing decision

For height differences, Sun and Moon are 10 feet tall when they stand at their full height.

A slight warning for past abuse and ptsd

Reader is of age!

ao3 link!

Don’t go out past midnight. That’s what your father always told you

The dragons will come, and they will feast upon your flesh. The Sun Dragon likes to trick children into following them, and the Crescent Moon punishes the bad ones.

You never actually saw one, but there had been attacks in northern areas. No one ever survived. It was enough to keep you inside the castle.

Your princess-like status went unnoticed in the kingdom. All because your toddler brother was the star of the show, soon to be king when he got older.

It didn’t really bother you. Servants and the like never bugged you.

A casual hello or how are you would’ve been nice though.

Out of all the fantastic creatures that the forest held, the dragon brothers had to be the most dangerous.

One day when you visited the village, your little brother had wandered too far near the edge of the grass patch, leading straight into the woods. A guard stopped you before you could go after him.

Now they cared?

No one would accept the offer to rescue the soon to be king…

Some security system.

And here you were, riding a skiddish and barely trained horse into the darkest portion of the forest.

You finally booked it past the bog towards the jagged mountains. “Finally.” The moment you reached out to tie up your horse, it turned tail and nearly knocked you over in the process.

“Wait, come back!” You started to run after it before the stallion sprinted off into the darkness. Now it belonged to the bog gator.

“Well, fuck me then.” You nearly kicked the rock wall before realizing the vibrations could give away your location.

Sneaking around the steep wall, you could overhear voices inside the cave. One was high pitched and rather excited. The other low and raspy. A chill ran through your spine at the sound of it.

“I’ve never been this close to a human child before. They’re so cute and squishy!”

“It’s kinda ugly. Like a slimy worm baby.”

Now was a better time than never to attack. You readied your sword and jumped into the cave’s entrance.

“Surrender!”

Both dragons turned simultaneously, not even phased by your appearance.

“Oh look, the little hero has come to save her runt.” Moon huffed as he draped himself over a pile of crystals. “Oh, I’m so scared.”

“Give me my brother back!” You held your sword out. “Or I’ll be forced to use this!”

“With a toothpick, too.” The blue dragon snorted, a cloud of smoke puffing out of his nostrils. He snatched the blade from your hands in one swipe. Moon bent the weapon backward as if it were a piece of clay.

“He seems like he’s enjoying himself.” Sun smiled as the child tugged on his snout. Your little brother laughed at the celestial dragon unfurling his wings in and out.

“Either way! I need my brother back! Or I’ll tell the entire town you ate him and attacked me! Then we’ll see who’s running when an angry mob shows up!”

Moon turned on his side. “Like we haven’t plundered several of those already.”

“That is a lie!” He narrowed his eyes at his brother. “And you! Can you not shout in front of the small child?”

“He’s MY brother!” You sighed. “Okay. What the hell do you want? Some sort of deal?”

Moon rolled over again “Hmm, a deal you say?”

The Sun Dragon perked up, in the process dangling your brother a few feet in the air. He held on by his snout and he started to slip.

You gasped and ran to catch him, but Sun beat you to it with his massive wings.

Your eyes narrowed “How can I pay it forward so I can return to the village with my brother?”

The dragons exchanged glances, and the blue one smiled. “Well…we need some form of entertainment.”

“What?”

“You, silly.” Sun giggled. “What was it again in your kingdom? Something about the youngest getting the throne?” He poked your side and you batted at him. “Yeah, we know about that too. Word travels fast in the dark forest.”

Moon crowded your personal space, grinning a full set of fangs. “Do you really think your beloved beer battered father cares about you? If you disappeared entirely, they’d consider you dead.”

“Moon,” Sun growled. “Don’t push it.”

The tall frills on his head lifted. “If you stay with us, we’ll spare your brother. Unless you want the throne to yourself, then we have a meal-“

“WE ARE NOT EATING THE CHILD, MOON.” Sun swatted his brother in the face. “NOR KILLING ANYONE HERE.”

“I’m kidding, dear brother” He snarled. “Our offer still stands. We get to keep your brother, or you take his place and we let him go.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and turned away from them. You cared deeply for that kid. But they were right about the ruling part. Only the youngest were to rule over the kingdom. Plus, you’d fail your first quest if you went back empty handed.

Empty child handed?? Child empty?

Never mind.

“We don’t have all day here.” You could hear Sun chirp.

You had no other options.

“…Okay. I’ll stay with you guys.”

Sun, forgetting about the child next to him, pulled you into a bone crushing hug. “Yay! Oh my gosh, we’re gonna have so much fun together! Yes yes yes!”

“Little brother, why don’t you go transport the child back to the village?”

He groaned, “Ugh, why do I have to do it? I’m busy.”

“I’ll come with you!” You offered.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Moon wrapped his tail around your leg. “Don’t want you escaping now, do we?”

“At least let me say goodbye?”

Sun pushed the toddler toward you with his claw. Your brother held a little plush star from Sun’s collection of soft pillows and stuffed animals.

Your brother wouldn’t remember any of this because he was so tiny, but you held him close anyway. “Goodbye little one. Make them proud.”

You finally gave Sun the child, and he drifted out of the cave with the boy in his claws.

Moon proceeded to drag you away again, tightly coiling his tail around your waist. You managed to tug your arms out of his grip.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

Moon tilted his head back and laughed. “How inconsiderate. I invite you into our cave, and you assume that I’ll break the deal.”

“Your invitation sucks.”

“Too bad.”

Both of you sat in silence for the next 5 minutes. Moon sifted through his collection of colorful crystals while you came to reality that this was your life now. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked around the cave.

In contrast to Moon’s crystals and pendants, Sun’s side of the cave was stock full of comfy pillows, plushies, and books stacked in the corner. Brightly colored streamers made for a maypole hung from his side of the wall.

At least the books would give you some sort of distraction, if he let you touch them.

“Moon, what did you mean by entertainment? You were so keen on scaring me to death, so explain.”

He stirred and glanced your way. “It's simple really. And I never intended on scaring you to death!“

"Then tell me-!"

A giant crash made both of your heads whip over to the entrance of the cave.

Sun was clutching an entire apple tree to his chest. “I know you’re not fond of raw fish, so I brought dinner!”

Dear lord…

Meet your new roommates. Two touch starved dragons that could easily snap you like a twig

But they won’t

Yes, there will be multiple parts to this. Happy reading!

#dragon alternate universe #sun and moon fnaf #security breach au #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sundrop #moondrop #the daycare attendant #fnaf au

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strgshazam · 5 months

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Missing Out - Chapter IV - If you forget what I've done, I'll do it again

While she's smoking, he leans down and starts pressing his lips against her neck. She turns her head away from him and back towards the party to give him more room to work.

That's when she sees Steve Harrington coming their way.

She puts a hand onto Billy's chest before whispering to him, "Sorry babe, fun police is here."

Just as Billy's pulling away to see what she's talking about, Steve makes his presence known. Loudly.

"Harper! The hell are you doing back here?" Though he doesn't say it, she can feel the added 'with him' at the end of that question.

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a/n: writing has been especially tough because i'm traveling for work right now, but i'm doing my best. also, if anyone is interested in being a beta for this, please let me know!

about: billy hargrove x ofc, slow burn strangers to lovers modern!au

warnings: drug and alcohol use, substance abuse as a coping mechanism, dead dove: do not eat, eventual smut, minors dni, violence

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10:14 AM billy the flirt: Hey. Can we talk?

He set his phone back down on his nightstand with the intention of going back to sleep (or at least attempting) for a few hours. Harper didn't typically wake up until mid-afternoon. To his surpise, his phone buzzed against the wood surface beside him almost instantly.

Harper: sure thing, honey. the sooner, the better. got some shit to take care of later.

He had spent the majority of the last three weeks pissed off - why the fuck had she lied to him? What was wrong with him that she was interested in...anybody else? It wasn't until he had driven Max home from school a few days prior that some sense was knocked into him.

"Get in the car, Max. You're already late enough as it is."

"I'm only like two minutes late! What's up your ass lately?" She tossed her skateboard into the trunk of his car - there's no way she's putting that dirty piece of wood on his leather seats - and climbed into the passenger's seat and shut the door with a light slam.

"Hey! Watch the door, shitbird, or you'll be walking home for the rest of the month," he turned the key in the ignition and checked his rearview mirror that just so happened to contain his own reflection before peeling out of the school parking lot.

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, "Seriously, what's your deal? You been fighting with that girl?"

His head snapped to look at her ever so briefly, "What girl?" She let out an incredulous laugh. "The girl you've been spending all your time with lately."

"There's no girl. And mind your fuckin' business," he kept his eyes focused on the road.

Max made her eye roll obvious enough that he didn't even need to look at her to see it. "Then why're you so defensive? How'd you fuck it up, huh?"

"Watch your mouth, Maxine. I didn't fuck up anything."

"Oh right, I forgot that you've never been an asshole to anyone before. 'Specially not girls. Never been anything less than a gentleman while trying to get in their pants."

That's what set him off. The tires of the Camaro screeched to a halt on the side of the road before he reached over to grab her arm.

He pulled her closer to him with an intense grip, "Didn't I tell you to mind your fuckin' business? I didn't do anything. And there's no girl to fuck anything up with anyway. Now get out of my car before you piss me off even more," he shoved her arm back toward her and waited for her to get out.

She climbed out of the car and held the door open, "Never been an asshole to a girl, huh?" She sneered at him before slamming the door.

He sped off without giving her the skateboard out of the trunk.

To no one's surprise, Billy had a hard time admitting he was wrong. What was worse than Max calling him out was the fact that she was right. He'd never admit that to her, of course, but she was.

The next day, he had taken her out for ice cream. Neil hadn't liked that.

He arrived at Harper's apartment and knocked on the door. He wasn't sure that he still was welcome enough to just walk in.

"It's open, Billy!"

He found her in her usual spot on the couch, but the...air of the apartment felt different. He could tell that she felt differently about him now. God, he really had fucked this up. He finally had accepted that they were just going to be friends, but now it was too late. Now it was-

"Holy shit, what happened?" He saw bruising on her cheek and a split lip that was no more than a day and a half old. He moved quickly to sit beside her on the couch and hesitated a bit before gently placing his hands against her jaw to get a better look.

She didn't flinch at his question. She didn't flinch at his touch. She only muttered, "I could ask you the same thing," as she pointed to her own eyebrow. The exact spot that he had a butterfly bandage on his own face and what little bruising remained from a black eye.

"You okay?" He gently touched his thumb against her cheek, which still didn't make her flinch. "I'm fine. You?" She stared directly into his eyes. When most people saw him like this, they couldn't stop staring at the injuries. But not her. She couldn't stop staring at him.

He used his calloused hands to gently turn her head to try to get a better look, and that's when he saw it: the bruises on her neck that were in the middle of fading. Or the middle of developing?

"Harp. What happened to you?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

She smirked at him, "You should see the other guy."

He dropped his head and let out an exastperated sigh, "You're not going to tell me, are you?" He pulled his hands away from her face and she shrugged, "You show me yours, I'll show you mine."

He leaned back against the couch and rubbed his hands over his own face, carefully avoiding his own injuries.

"Look, about what I said..."

"I forgive you," she smiled at him as much as she could without pulling her split lip open again. She reached forward toward the coffee table and picked up a joint. Holding it between her teeth, she lit it with the Zippo she pulled from her pocket.

Before she exhaled, she nudged her shoulder against his, "Hey. What's the difference between a hippo and a Zippo?"

He held his eyes closed for a moment, not wanting to just change the subject as if the situation they were in was funny. However, that was clearly what she wanted, so he gave in.

"What?"

"One's really heavy, and the other's a little lighter," she absolutely beamed.

The joke wasn't funny. It was pretty stupid, honestly. But her smile...despite them both being in the middle of shitty circumstances, she was still wanting to make them both laugh. And it worked. His own smile was big enough to exceed hers. He dropped his head into his hands and muttered, "You're the fuckin' worst," while trying to hold back as much laughter as he could.

She passed the joint to him as her smile faded, "You really wanna know what happened?"

#billy hargrove/original female character #billy hargrove/ofc #billy hargrove/original character #billy hargrove/oc #slow burn #strangers to best friends to lovers #modern au #dead dove: do not eat #eventual smut

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titleleaf · 1 year

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dear Scents Wizard. i was literally lying in bed dozing off and then suddenly the need to hear the answer to this question for Reasons hit me like a thunderbolt. what perfume would you assign to the characters of primal fear both ic/and like character perfumes line if they differ?

OKAY FIRST OF ALL i love you, i am giving you the finest salutations as I sit here awake

second of all: oooooh shit, okay yeah this is extremely fun but also a challenge for me because both Martin and Janet have a very specific style image to project -- I don't think I'm going to hit that mark without taking a deep-ass dive into contemporary receptions of these perfumes but I wish I knew if the creative team on the film had anything in mind since everything else about how the characters present themselves is so immaculate.

(brief content warning for canon-typical discussion of sexual assault/abuse)

Dior Dune or Guerlain Samsara for Janet, maybe? (Am I associating her with warm, powdery, amber-y 90s scents because she's a chic mean blonde... maybe.) I think she'd enjoy wearing something that gestures at a unisex seriousness but I also think she's somebody who changes up her signature scent every few years or so in line with whatever the current cultural vibe is. Beefy sillage and lots of longevity. She definitely associates that with both femininity and power but in ten years she'll be like "how did I walk into a courtroom like that".

Imaginary indie perfume oil option: black tea, sandalwood, labdanum, vanilla, peony

On the flipside, nothing that Martin Vail wears is subtle either. Chanel Égoïste -- I know this man smells good but I also know he does not smell discreetly. He doesn't seem as likely to really go through signature scents so I kind of want to put him in Chanel Antaeus too, I regret I went through a big 80s men's fragrance scent explosion phase and I can feel myself on the verge of going back to it right now. I have a real hateboner for Chanel on so many levels but ughhhhh Antaeus good.

Imaginary indie perfume option: would get kicked out of the indie perfume oil conclave just for suggesting one tbh

I regret that Aaron's whole sweet-choirboy-from-the-holler vibe (which in some ways is genuine and in some ways is obviously fake as hell, like the best fake identities) probably excludes him from designer fragrance but I think he's got the opposite sillage experience -- you don't smell anything until you're really in close quarters with him and then how nice he smells gets really unsettling because it might just be the smell of his skin. (Clean-sweaty, fresh, aquatic, laundered. Also not less scary when he's cussing you out and knocking your head against the wall.) I 100% headcanon this guy as having a couple strong sensory triggers related to abuse (and definitely related to personal proximity -- absolutely nothing about Rushman's bathroom or bedroom suggest a dude living a life of poverty and humility, let alone chastity) but I can also picture him co-opting the olfactory richness of Catholic liturgy (and regular old wealth) for the same reason he takes Rushman's ring with him -- as an assertion of power and dominance.

On his own, I think he would kill it in like, CK One.

Imaginary indie perfume option: salty musk, lemon, Atlas cedar, liturgical incense, gasoline.

If I were going to assign Aaron a modern perfume, I think it would be funny to put him in Jo Malone. (I wear Jo Malone Lupin & Patchouli and I love it a lot but he might be a Salty Amber/Wood Sage & Sea Salt kind of boy.) If I were going to put Martin and Janet in something modern... I know in my heart they are both the kind of person I hate the most in the world, people with enough money to just buy full-size Tom Ford fragrances willy-nilly and not eke out a thimble sized sample over a decade. They both discovered when they were sleeping together that they wore the same Tom Ford fragrance and after they broke up they were playing exes chicken to see who would give it up and throw the towel in and find a new one.

Tommy wears Acqua Di Gio maybe, and idk what the hot organized crime dude wears but I know he smells good. I know it in my heart.

#ska watches a thing #primal fear 1996 #what's the olfactory equivalent of shoulder pads bc i cannot get enough of it

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therealleafknight · 1 year

Text

Claustrophobia

TW: mentions and descriptions of child abuse/physical abuse, claustrophobia, and self-harm

I can’t say I remember when it first started, but I know it was not there when I was very young. Back then, I was only afraid of the dark and of moths cuz I thought that they would eat my clothes. But now if you give me an MRI or put me on a crowded train or elevator and you give it a certain yet random amount of time, it’ll happen. The tears start streaming. My breathing gets panicked and I start hyperventilating. My hands hurt from how hard I’m balling up my fists, digging my nails into my palms. And that overwhelming feeling of “You aren’t safe here”.

I’d like to think it stems from my punishments as a child—well, I can’t say I’d like to think it, but I do definitely think so. My mother would hit me with a belt or a broom or a slipper or a slab of wood or an air freshener bottle or her car keys. Really, any object would do. I’m sure if we had a baseball bat in the house she’d have used that too. Glad she stopped when I picked up golf in school. Most people tend to have two responses to being attacked, I would think. Some of us run. Some of us fight. And when you’re only 8, 9, 10, 11 years old and your assailant is a grown woman... well, you better start running. Run up the stairs, run down the stairs. Jump down those stairs if you have to. Go two stairs at a time. Knock things over in the path. Close doors so time has to be taken to open them. Keep thinking on your feet and just run in that house. People often wondered why I was so good at track in middle school—I guess you could say I was always practicing.

But I didn’t just run. I’d hide too. I would hide inside the closest closet. I’d hide under my bed. I even cut out the little fabric on the bottom of the mattress so I could literally hide inside my bed. I tried to practice calming my breathing down from a quick pace to a slow, almost inaudible rate. I’d try to practice holding my breath for as long as possible so she wouldn’t hear me. I’d still be found anyway though, which made things worse as now I couldn’t escape.

And I think that’s what the fear is, really. It’s not a fear, it’s a memory. A memory of balling up and making myself as small as possible as a belt or a broom or a hanger or a stick rained down upon my small body like bombardment attacks do to a war-stricken land. A memory of trying to catch every blow, trying to push away and find the right opening to run and find a new space to hide. A memory of yelling, crying, and screaming in pain and fear as I yelled “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please stop hitting me!” and “I didn’t mean it please stop it was an accident” and “I didn’t do anything owww” and “Wait wait please please”. A memory of seeing a jeering smile on your brother’s face as he watched you run around trying to avoid this hell on Earth.

I think that’s what it all is anyway—memories. Because when I’m in that MRI machine and the doctor asks me if things are alright and to please try not to move around so much, I can still feel myself trying to defend and block the hits. I can still feel myself wanting to scream and to cry because I tried to hide again even though I knew it wouldn’t work.

She stopped when I was 16, thankfully. I still remember that day vividly. At the time, I had already slowly developed a habit of punching myself in the face or the chest or the stomach—anywhere, really—because I noticed she wouldn’t try to hit me if I did that. But that day, I didn’t do that. I didn’t even run. She swung at me with the broom and I just... caught it. Can you imagine that feeling? Years of running around trying to avoid pain, hiding in places, hitting myself repeatedly but never to the point of bruising. And then one day I just... catch it. I defend myself. She swung at me with the dustpan too in her other hand, and yknow... I caught that too. Effortlessly. It really was surreal to me that all this time I could just do that. She then tried to kick at me to get me to reflexively jump away and let go of the items. But yknow what? I put the broom and dustpan in one hand and just caught her leg. So there we were, her unable to put her foot down or really keep her balance as I had caught everything she came at me with.

I laugh at it now, especially because of what I said. I put her leg down, handed her the broom and dustpan and then said “Go sit down before you hurt yourself”. And I walked away. And she never hit me again. It’s a proud moment because I defended myself. But yet even so. Even though I defended myself. Even though I ensured my safety. Even though it stopped. Even though all of that happened, it just takes one single thing. The MRI. The CT Scan. That crowded elevator. The train car with too many people on it. The streets with lots of people. The hallway with nowhere to walk. The room with walls too small. All it takes is just that small thing and we’re back in the closet. We’re back under our bed. We’re back in the suitcase. We’re back in the bed itself. Back in the small door underneath the stairwell. Back in the boiler room. Back between the fridge and the oven. Back under the kitchen table. Back in all of those places, all of those spaces. That’s all it takes to manifest that memory, that feeling.

It’s funny how the things we fear the most aren’t even fears at all, just things we remember.

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myapathyhaspeaked · 2 years

Text

Supernatural: (Lillian tells the story of The Bloodied Woman

So I made a list of writing prompts for my ocs, and this is the first one.

TW for abuse and suicide

The travelers had settled in for the night, having found a decent cave to sleep in and enough dry wood to make a small fire. Marina busied herself with cracking open the nuts they had foraged throughout the day while Lillian sat hunched over the pile of sticks with a fire striker, struggling to get the sparks to grow into a respectable flame. She did manage, however, to use up most of the tinder.

“Malaya, could you get me more twigs?” Lillian sighed as her last attempt resulted in nothing more than some burnt sticks and grass that refused to do anything more than char. “Maybe some bark shavings. Yeah get some bark. And some dead leaves. You know what, just bring whatever you think will burn.”

“Sure thing, miss!” Malaya happily strolled out of the cave, wanting nothing more than to get warmer, feeling the cold seep into her bones as she wandered through the woods, picking up anything that looked dry enough. Once her arms couldn’t carry anymore tinder, she marched back to the cave and dumped it all next to the kindling.

“Shit. Um…thanks, I, uh, guess. God that’s…that’s more than I thought you’d bring.” She muttered as she grabbed a handful from the pile. Praying to any of the powers that might help her start a fire, she went back to striking the flint and steel. Soon, the tinder had burst into flame, and was now spreading that flame to the kindling, which, thank the heavens, seemed to be catching quite well.

After a small dinner of roasted nuts, they huddled around the fire for warmth, trying to counteract the cold stone cave floor. Birch stayed a good measure away, fearful of catching her wooden arms on fire. Lillian, not having much to live for, put her wooden hands up to the fire with only her clothes, also flammable, as protection.

“You’ll set yourself alight doing that.” Marina told her.

“I’ve lived longer than you, I think I know what I’m doing.” Lillian snarked back.

“Malaya’s lived shorter than you, and she knows to roll up her sleeves so she doesn’t catch on fire and die, you imbecile.”

“I’m not rolling up my sleeves,” she said, with a tone of finality.

“Why ever not?” Marina rolled her eyes as if this was more of a struggle than trekking across the country. Then again, Lillian was willing to make it so.

“Because I don’t want to.” Lillian sarcastically explained, sticking her tongue out at Marina like an extremely mature adult.

Giving up on her, and honestly, more than fine if the farmer went up in flames for her stupidity, Marina turned to Malaya, who was beginning to slump over from sleepiness. She stood up and hooked her arms under hers and started to walk her towards the blankets Birch had set out.

“Hey I’m not…not tired. Put me…down, Marina…” Her little sister mumbled drowsily, refusing to use her legs, forcing her to borderline drag her to the bedding. Squirming stubbornly, Malaya managed to unhook herself from Marina and fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, lying on the ground for a second after having the wind knocked out of her.

“C’mon Lillian, tell her I’m not tired.”

“She’s not tired, fish lady,” she drawled, causing Marina to sputter in offense.

“You’re not in charge of her!”

“You’re not in charge of me!” Malaya retorted.

“Excuse me one second. Who feeds you? Buys you clothes?”

“Hey, I could get my own money if you’d let me perform!”

The sisters started yelling back and forth, making Birch cringe and look to the floor awkwardly. Lillian massaged her temple and tossed more kindling onto the fire, imagining the flames enveloping them all. Well, all except Birch. She didn’t do anything wrong.

“Girls, girls, please, no one cares about your unresolved tensions, shut the damn hell up.” Lillian shouted, grabbing an arm from each sister and dragging them back down next to the fire. “How ‘bout a compromise? Malaya, you can stay up—”

“Yes!” She cheered.

“I’m not done. You can stay up, but only as long as it takes me to tell a story. Maybe it’ll bore you to sleep.”

“Is this all really necessary?” Marina sighed.

“Well I’d usually say ‘five more minutes’ but I didn’t bring a clock, so this is what we’re doing, alright?”

“Fine, fine, just make it concise.”

The women all sat around the fire, Malaya looking at Lillian with intense anticipation. The farmer cleared her throat and began.

“Once upon a time, in Kalink, there was a beautiful young woman, whose father was a coachman, and lived down the street from the King’s castle.” Marina flashed a look of disbelief at Lillian.

“Really? That story? She’ll never fall asleep now!”

Ignoring her, Lillian continued. “One day as she was feeding her father’s horses, the royal parade came through, celebrating the King’s birthday, with the man himself in an ornate golden carriage pulled by the finest horses, followed by trumpets and knights. Gazing out his window, he saw the woman, and instantly fell in love.”

“Aw!” Malaya whispered. Marina looked away awkwardly, pursing her lips.

“From then on, every day, he went down to her home, and asked her to marry him, promising the loveliest dresses and shiniest jewels, and every time, she declined, feeling no affection for the man nor for the stress that being royalty would bring. This continued week after week, until one day, her father was home as he came to ask her once more. He offered more money than the man could dream of in exchange for his daughter, and he enthusiastically agreed. He called the girl into the room, and before she could say anything, lead by her father to the King’s carriage. Not taking no for an answer, she was forced to sit there, until the King stepped in, and they started moving towards the castle.”

“They were quickly married, but she refused to…” Lillian coughed, “fall in love with him. Every night he tried to bring her to his room to sleep, and every night she chose to sleep in a guest room. He began to beat her, and drag her by the wrist to his room, where she would wrap the blankets tightly around her so he could not touch her. He began withholding food, took away all of her dresses so that she had to wander around the castle in nothing but her petticoats and chemise.”

“After half a year of this, she decided to escape, and stole a scullery maid’s uniform. Keeping her head down, she made her way through the castle and managed to escape out a servant’s exit. She ran down the street until she found the last stop on her father’s route, and waited until he arrived. Just as the sun slipped under the horizon, he came, and she sprang into his arms and begged him to take her home. The father, enraged that she would threaten his newly found riches and status, grabbed her wrist and began to drag her back to the palace. Not willing to take the King’s treatment anymore, she snatched his knife from his pocket and drove it into her stomach, slicing through herself until her guts spilled out of her torso.”

Malaya’s eyes widened.

“When she died, her father, still bitter that she had stolen all of the esteem he had gained from marrying her off, refused to burn her body, preventing her spirit from being released to the afterlife. Now, her spirit is forced to linger on the same street that she died. These days, it’s said that if a coachman sees a weeping woman in maid’s wear covered in blood and bruises, asking for a ride home, he should take her without asking for pay, and offer to wipe the blood off of her face. If he makes the offer, she will leave a silver coin before being dragged back to where she died, her spirit being unable to reach her old house. But if he refuses to clean her face, or to even let her in his carriage, she will gut him with her father’s knife.”

The cave was silent.

“The end.” Lillian smiled. Malaya sat stiffly, looking slightly pale.

“Wonderful. Now she’ll be up all night.”

#oc writing #writing #tw abuse #tw suicide #ghost story

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