#Please heed the warnings
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Angel
joel miller x f!reader drabble
warnings: this drabble has dark themes!! this is purely smut and it contains a knife kink and daddy kink. please heed these warnings! if you do not wish to consume this content, please do NOT read under the cut. smut contains unprotected piv, dirty talk, empty threat of using the knife!!!!! dark joel (? just in case) this relationship between joel and reader is consensual and joel was asked by reader to do this with reader. 18+, minors do not interact.
wc: 641
Joel was astonished when youâd first told him.
He was unsure. Hesitant. And oddly enough, the thought of you enjoying doing that with him turned him on, blinding him with a carnal desire that he knew was still deep inside of him.
Heâd sworn up and down to himself that youâd softened him up, made him a better man after heâd met you one night at the Tipsy Bison. One smile from youâa smile that could end fucking warsâand it was over for him. You had him wrapped around your finger from that moment on.
So, when heâd asked you if there was anything in bed you wanted to give a try, something you two had never done beforeâhe was completely taken aback at the proposal you offered: him holding a knife up to your throat as he fucked you relentlessly from behind.
And thatâs how you two ended up here, with his switchblade pressed to your throat as your knees dug painfully into the mattress, him pistoning into you from behind.
Joel got a million dollar view of your ass and your arched back, his other hand engulfing your wrists as he pressed them against your tailbone. It was no use for you to struggle, even if your pleas were getting louder.
You and Joel had a safe word, and heâd yet to hear you say it, so he kept going.
âDaddy, pleaseââ
âWanâ me to fuckinâ press this blade into your throat baby? Hush up now nâ take what daddy gives ya.â
Your cunt gushes at his words, his empty threat sending you into a spiral of arousal. You couldnât even think straight at this point, and Joel knew it. He also knew him being a little mean to you turned you on even more.
âLook at ya, getting fucked dumb on my cock. Can feel you fuckinâ squeezinâ me. Fuck, babyâgod damnit. Gonna cum if you donâ stop squeezinâ me like that.â
You were numbly incoherent at this point, nothing but a strangled whine bubbling from your throat as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. The blade was dangerously close to digging into your skin, but a sick, twisted fucking part of you loved the thrill of it.
Joelâs thrusts were becoming sloppy and you knew he was close. He took the blade away from your throat and gripped your hips, flipping you around so his broad body covered yours.
He was pulsing inside of you and the wild desire in your eyes nearly sent him over the edge. A calloused hand dragged up your body and groped your breast, tweaking your nipple between his forefinger and thumb before he trailed his hand up to your jaw to open it. He pressed the blade of his knife onto your tongue as he fucked into you at such a rapid pace, you fucking swore the bed would break.
âSuch a good girl. My angel. So fuckinâ pretty nâ good for daddy, baby. Come with me.â
And he didnât have to say it twice. His wish was your command, and you cried out as you pulsed around him, gushing all over the base of his cock. He grunted as he collapsed and dropped his head onto your shoulder, pulling out just in time before he came all over your stomach.
You swiped a finger over his hot spend, plopping your finger into your mouth as you looked into his eyes and sucked. You moaned at the salty taste, eyes closing in pure ecstasy.
âChrist, baby. Yâdonât know what you do tâme.â He flops down onto his side and tosses his switchblade onto his nightstand, pulling you into him.
You couldnât help but giggle as you traced patterns onto his warm chest, the feeling of his erratic heartbeat beneath your fingertips.
âI have a pretty good idea.â
#donât look at me#omg#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller drabble#dark!joel miller#knife kink drabble#PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS#joel miller tlou#jackson!joel#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fic
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You Experience Homophobia
Characters included: Diluc, Itto, Childe (Part 1, lmk who else you wanna see)
Total word count: 3.8k
He/Him Reader (In Childe's, it's teacher! reader)
Warnings: extreme homophobia (all of them), threats (all of them), mentions to homosexuality being against the archons (all of them), the statement "i would rather d/e before [act of homosexuality]" (Itto), prison (Itto), breaking bones (Itto), mention of past bullying (Itto), ooc (Itto), references to "executing" homosexuals (Childe), Horrible children (Childe), use of Childe's real name,
A/N: I used to experience homophobia constantly in high school, even by the people i trusted and considered to be my greatest friends :[ so I wrote this to comfort myself and I hope it comforts you as well! Please be aware that all of these scenarios have actually happened to me (except for one small part of a situation, which happened to a cishet friend of mine that I connected to homophobia because that's why she was called that).
For the first time in a while, you had the free time to visit your boyfriend at his manor. For once, you were off work the next two days, as well as an empty schedule. You wanted nothing more than to lay beside Diluc and hug him for hours, profiting off his warmth as he held you in his arms.
With a pep in your step, you walked your way to the Dawn Winery, humming a song that had been running in your head for the last few days. You admired the rows of designations as you approached the vineyard. You sneakily plucked one of the fruits and popped it into your mouth as you finally reached the cobbled path. You practically skipped all the way to the door.Â
The door opened and you peaked in quietly, entering and shrugging off your coat to hang by the door. There didnât seem to be anyone nearby, but that didnât mean very much. You continued your trek through the huge manor, making your way towards Dilucâs office. On the way, you heard a little noise behind you before you were stopped.
âSir?â You spun around with a kind smile, greeting the woman who stood there. You didnât recognise her; she must be a newer employee. âYou arenât supposed to be here. Allow me to escort you out.â
You smiled graciously, shaking your head, âAh, no thank you. Sorry, I have permission to be here.â
She stepped closer, placing the tray she was holding on a nearby surface. âNo, I was told we werenât to have any visitors today. Iâm sorry; Master Diluc made that very clear.â
âBut Iâm not a visitor?â You mentioned. âWell, I mean, I am, but not that kind of visitor. Iâm Y/N. Dilucâs boyfriend.â
The maid girlâs brows furrowed and she shook her head, âNo need to spew such lewd lies.â
You frowned, taken aback, âLewd Lies? What about that was lewd or a lie?â
âMaster Diluc does not have a boyfriend.â She said the word with⌠was that disgust? âHe wouldnât stoop so low as such a high ranking official.â
You hummed, eyes narrowed slightly. âOh, uhm⌠Okay. Wow. Well, I can wait outside and you can tell him that Iâm here, how about that?â
Despite the perfectly reasonable response (which you should have thought about earlier, would have saved this trouble), she shook her head,â I think itâs best if you just leave, Master Diluc was quite adamant about no guests today. I donât think he would want to meet with someone⌠like you, anyway.â
You visually reacted, leaning back with wide eyes, âWhat?â You were surprised. You hadnât been spoken to like this for years. âWho do you think youâre talking to? I can get you fired in ten seconds. Now, go get Diluc for me.â
She looked aghast, âDo not refer to Master Diluc so casually. He is more powerful than you ever will be. Now, this is the last time I will ask politely. Please exit the premises.âÂ
You coughed out a laugh, completely shocked at her blatant disrespect. âDo you treat all of Dilucâs guests like this? Itâs highly inappropriate and out of line.â
âYou have no place to comment on my work ethic. I deal with people with respect. Unless they are unnatural.â She gave you a very disgusted look and appeared to almost gag. Was she being serious or was this one fucked up prank that she was trying to pull on you? How did she not know that you were actually Dilucâs boyfriend?
With a scoff, you turned back towards the stairs, climbing it quickly as you heard her scrambling behind you, urging you to stop. You found Dilucâs office quickly and entered, leaving the door open for the maid to enter behind you.
âMaster Diluc! I am so sorry! I tried to keep this creature out of the house, but he just barged in!â The maid said, fearful of Dilucâs power.
Diluc glanced up for a moment before doing a double take. He completely ignored you for a moment when his gaze noticed you standing there. âDid you just call him a creature?â He repeated, disbelief coating his honeyed words.
You nodded, âAnd thatâs not even the worst of what she called me! She said I was unnatural and that she refused to let people âlike meâ enter this house.â
He glanced at you with furrowed brows, standing up. The maid took this as her time to speak.
âWell, this man was trying to convince me that you were dating him! And- And thatâs just so wrong! Why would you stoop as low as to date a male when you are surrounded by beautiful women!â
Dilucâs eyes flashed to hers, unmistakable fury in his eyes. âWhat?â He said, scarily quiet. âWhat did you just say about him?â You stared at her with a pointed expression, urging her to realize that you were never lying and that her precious boss was, in fact, dating a male. âHe is my boyfriend.â
The woman was gobsmacked. She looked between the two of you before her eyes widened in fear. âI- I didnât mean-â She tried to reconcile.
Diluc took a step forward menacingly. He narrowed his eyes harshly. âI expect you have a very, very good apology to him.â
She was quiet before shaking her head. âI- I wonât apologize because I was right. Itâs unnatural and, frankly, disgusting.â
You stared in pure shock as she said that, spitting at you after she finished speaking. Diluc grabbed her arm. You could see the smoke billowing off of her clothing.
âYou are not welcome on this property. Youâll be lucky if anyone in Mondstadt allows you to enter their establishment.â Diluc said. âYou deserve the worst of the world, and I will be delighted to begin.â
She stuttered and tried to pry her arm from him. âI- Youâre hurting me!â
âGood.â Despite his words, he let her arm go harshly, turning and waving her off. âGet out of my sight. I shall hope to never see you again. If I do, I am not sure if I would be able to contain myself as I have done now.â She cradled her arm (which was barely touched, honestly) and rushed from the room. Diluc walked towards you, placing a hand on your cheek. It was still warm from the heat he had conducted.
He wordlessly scanned your eyes, which held a certain sense of conflict. âAre you alright, my dove?â
You frowned, nodding slowly, âYeah, Iâm okay. I just- I was not expecting that.â You leaned into his palm. âWeâre natural, right? This isnât against anyoneâs greater plans?â
He raised an eyebrow, âAnd whoâs greater plans would that be? Barbatos?â He chuckled, âAs if he would care about two boys dating each other.â He spoke as if he knew the god himself, but you had to admit it sounded silly. âThere is nothing unnatural about us, darling.â He whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. âSome people are just disrespectful and like to shove their noses in things that do not concern them in any way. They love to be angry when it has nothing to do with them.â
You nodded in agreement, laughing quietly. âYeah. They do, donât they?â He smiled softly, leaning in to kiss you gently. âI love you, Di.â
âI love you, my dove.â
Once again, you had gotten a letter from your jailed boyfriend. Once again, he found himself locked up and needing a bail. You shook your head with an amused sigh. You never knew how he continuously got in trouble for the silliest of things. Nonetheless, you grabbed your sack of mora and began to travel the distance to the Tenryou Commission.
Once you arrived at the doors, you stated your business. Despite a roll of the eyes, you were led into the waiting room. One of the guards came up to you and offered you a seat in front of his desk.
âRight, what are you here for?â He asked, giving a friendly smile despite the drab surroundings. âDo I need to get my reports ready to be filled out?â You laughed at his little joke to be polite. âNo, no, Iâm just here to pay a bail.â
He hummed, pulling out a folder. âRight, who for?â
âArataki Itto.â
The guard coughed, hiding a scoff that you noticed. You tilted your head in confusion. âThe oni?â You nodded with a blank face. This could go a few different ways. âWhy are you here for him?â
You shrugged, âI ask myself the same thing sometimes.â You attempted to joke. The guard didnât laugh. Rude, considering you had laughed at his lame attempt at a joke. âHeâs my boyfriend. I always end up being the one to bail him out.â
You noticed the way the man rolled his eyes and watched with narrowed eyes as he closed the folder, leaning forward to rest his chin on one of his fists. âBoyfriend, eh? I thought you were a boy.â
âI am. But is that any of your concern?â
He raised his hands in mock surrender, âI suppose not, though you may want to listen to me.â
âAnd why is that?â
âBecause maybe youâll realize the path youâre going down is going to send you straight to hell.â
You blinked, glaring at him angrily, âExcuse me?â
âYou heard me.â He replied calmly, flipping the folder open again and slowly going through each page. âNot only are you being a horny animal, youâre being a disgrace to Her Majesty the Shogun.â
You stared at him. You swore you could feel your eye twitching in pure unadulterated rage. âA horny animal? What is that supposed to mean?â
He rolled his eyes, âThatâs all you type of people are. Horny creatures who do nothing but frolic with each other.â You leaned forward angrily and he scoffed, scrunching his face in disgust, âDonât get any ideas. I would rather die than allow a man to kiss me.â
âI would rather kiss a hog than kiss you.â You retaliated, leaning back again, glaring at him as if he was a hog. âGo get my boyfriend. Let me pay his bail so I never have to see you again.â
He huffed, crossing his arms, âI donât take orders from the likes of you.â You swore you would have jumped at him if another soldier hadnât entered the room. She glanced between the two of you with a raised eyebrow.
âMaâam, can you help me? This man here is being very very disrespectful to me.â You asked, shoving a snarky comment at the man.
She nodded, walking over, âOf course, sir, what seems to be the issue?âÂ
âI would like to pay the bail for my boyfriend, Arataki Itto.â
She hummed, âAlright.â She reached over and took the folder from the man, flipping through it. âThe oni? You have your work cut out for you.â She laughed before grabbing a ringed set of keys from the manâs desk. âThe bail is set at 15,000 mora.âÂ
Your eyes widened slightly at the price. What had Itto done this time? Regardless, you nodded, shuffling through your small coin sack to find the correct amount of mora. As you did, the male soldier spoke again.
âYou just heard that he has a boyfriend and youâre cracking jokes with him?â He asked incredulously.
The woman shrugged, âWhy not? Thereâs nothing different between him and anyone else in a relationship.â
âItâs unnatural.âÂ
She rolled her eyes, âSo are your teeth, but you donât see anyone complaining about that.â
You stifled a laugh as you passed her the mora. She nodded at you, turning to put it up before returning. âAlright, heâs in cell 232, come this way.â
You followed and the male soldier followed you, for some reason you couldnât fathom. You soon found yourself standing outside Ittoâs cell. You grinned at him and, once he heard the rattling of keys, he sat up with an even larger grin.
âBaby!â He yelled excitedly. The door swung open and he barreled towards you, slinging an arm around your shoulder. âI just knew you were gonna come and set me free. My knight in shining armor.â Itto teased.
Though he earned a warning look from his coworker, the male soldier scoffed loudly. Itto glanced over, questioningly. His eyes were slightly wide as he wondered what he did.
âCan you not be so gross in public?â He asked snobbily.
You nearly growled, âWe barely even hugged. His arm is sitting on my shoulders and that is it.â Itto glanced between you two, slowly removing his arm. âWhy do you care about our happiness so much?â
âItâs immoral and wrong and you are on the wrong side of everything.â He replied, crossing his arms and sticking up his nose. âClearly, you need some sort of psych evaluation.â
Itto immediately stepped up, âWoah, woah, man, donât go saying that about my boy.â He warned.Â
His coworker grabbed his arm gently, âStop being such a bad person.â She hissed, trying to pull him away. âYouâre going to get suspended again.â
The soldier didnât budge. He tore his arm from her grasp and stepped closer, raising a finger and pushing it into your face. âYou are such a freak and-â Before he could finish his sentence, he screamed. Itto glared at him intensely as he turned the pointed finger upwards- a direction it should not have been pointing.
âDonât talk to him like that.â He growled animalistically. The womanâs eyes widened and pushed her coworker out of the way, pushing him towards the exit of the cells. The man took the chance to run out of the hall of cells. She turned back.
âAs much as he deserved it, you do know I have to arrest you, right?â
âHah, yeah. Figured as much.â He laughed, quickly coming down from his earlier anger. He turned to you, noticing your wide, surprised eyes. âYou alright?â
You nodded quickly, âyeah, I just- That was faster than it usually is to get you angry. What happened?â
His cheeks flushed a bit and he scratched the back of his neck, âAha, uh, yeah, you mentioned how when you were younger you were bullied relentlessly for being queer, so I would not let some bastard talk to you like that.â He said casually, shrugging. âYou know nothing he says even matters?â His eyes sparkled, âAnd Iâm Arataki Itto! The one and Oni, so you have to trust what I say.â
You laughed, leaning over and kissing his cheek, âI know, silly. It just caught me off guard mostly. Iâve worked through a lot of the homophobic trauma regarding my early years.â He narrowed his eyes, staring at you before deeming you truthful and nodding. He turned and walked into the cell he was just released from.
âIâm all ready, chief.â He said, grinning at the guard as she locked him in again. âIâll see you in a few days, baby! I love youuuu.â He sang as you walked off. You laughed, waving your hand in the air.
âLove you too, Itto.â You responded. You and the woman made your way outside of the hall and she held your arm for a moment.
âAre you willing to help me report him?â She asked, nodding to the man who was still holding his extremely broken finger as someone else accessed the damage. âI might be able to pull this off as self-defense.â She mentioned. âMr Itto will still get in trouble simply because heâs an oni, but itâll be less severe.â
You nodded, âOf course. That bastard needs to be suspended or even fired.â She smiled kindly, offering you a chair in front of the desk you were at earlier.
You grinned at your class as they slowly trickled into the room. âMorning!â You said chipperly. Some of the middle schoolers hummed in response, most not even acknowledging your greeting. It didnât affect your mood, though. You were thrilled. Today was the day the kids would begin giving their group presentations.
The assignment was not too difficult, but it was a long one. In groups of four, the four students would work together to create their own version of a utopia. Transportation, housing, laws, repercussions, etc. were all to be decided as a group for the happiest and best world they could imagine. It was a little assignment you had learned about from a teacher on vacation that her class did after reading The Giver.
âAlright, class! So, you all should have finished your presentation boards on your utopia.â The class groaned, knowing what was coming. âWell, it seems youâre prepared.â YOu laughed. âDoes anyone want to go first, or shall I spin the wheel?â
Everyone lit up slightly, âSpin the wheel!â You grinned, heading to a little wheel on the edge of your desk. You had already prepped it for todayâs lesson. Everyone waited as you spun the wheel, watching the colours spin until it landed on a kidâs name.
âHmm, alright, Marcusâ group, youâre up first.â You announced. Marcus and his three partners groaned but stood up and quickly prepared the presentation boards. You listened happily as he and his teammates discussed their perfect utopia until they reached the laws and repercussions board.
âOur most important law is no gay people.â Marcus stated, showing a picture of a pride flag with a huge red X on it. âIf someone is gay, they are to be executed immediately.â You stared dumbfounded. None of the kids knew you were gay, but they knew you were at least an ally. Why would their utopia- their supposed perfect world- want to execute all gay people?
You were a bit distracted as they finished up. They called your name a few times before waving a hand in your face. You blinked. You swallowed and nodded with a fake smile. âThat was great! Thank you so much.â You spun the wheel again and let the next group go.
You prayed that this time it would go differently, but it didnât. Once again, at the laws and repercussions slide, there was a rainbow flag with a big red circle with a line through it. Each group had something similar. Your smile became more and more fake as each group presented their assignment. By the end of the day, you were holding back your despair. These kids that you treated as well as you could, these kids that you saw every single day and treated them the best that you could- they wished you were dead?Â
Inadvertently, since they didnât know. But it didnât reassure you much.
When the day was over, you felt exhausted from hiding your true feelings. You were usually fairly open with the kids. You walked home as you normally did, ready to collapse into bed and curl into yourself. Maybe youâd cry, maybe youâd take a shower instead. Something to make you feel better.
To your relief (or perhaps disdain?), you entered your house to be met with your lovely boyfriend. Ajax stood with a grin, holding his arms out for you to hug him. You did so instantly, hurrying over to bury yourself in his scent. His comforting hug almost made you break and you could feel your despair tipping over the edge.
When he pulled back to peck your lips, he stopped with a frown, his brows furrowing. âIs something wrong, sĂłlnyshka(Sunshine)?â He cupped your cheek with his hand.
You leaned into it, closing your eyes. Your thoughts had been ruminating for far too long and you felt horrible- both from the students and from your own mind running rampant. âNot really.â You admitted.
His eyes held sympathy, âDid something happen at school? Or was it just a long day?â
You were silent for a moment before the dam broke. Your tears filled your eyes and slipped down your cheeks. He caught a few of them with his thumb, concern filling his expression. âI just- Is it wrong to be happy?â
Ajax blinked in surprise, âWhat do you mean, my love?â
âIs it wrong to be happy with who you are and who youâre dating?â
He thought for a second before a darker look appeared on his face, âDid someone say something about us? About us both being boys?â
âNot directly.â You replied, sniffling. âRemember the assignment I was really excited to see finished today? The kids did their presentations today.â He nodded along, listening closely even though he was a bit confused as to how this pertained. âAnd every single one of them, Ajax. Every single group had one of their laws as no gay people. And that gay people would be put to death.â
His breath stopped for a moment before resuming, pulling you into his chest. He wanted to take away all of the pain and make the people who caused it suffer, but, in this situation, he couldnât. âDarling, some kids are raised with the belief that other people shouldnât be happy if it isnât the same happiness that is normalized.â He said softly, stroking your hair. âI know it hurts a lot to hear them say that when you care about them so much, and Iâm not sure if I can make it hurt less.â He pulled back a moment to place both hands on your shoulders. âBut just know, I will always be here for you to talk to. You can talk about how hard it is being queer, you can talk about how you feel betrayed, you can talk to me about anything.â
You gave a wobbly smile, âAjax⌠I donât think youâll ever know how much that means to me. Iâm sorry I made our evening sad.â
His supportive smile fell into a small frown, âSĂłlnyshka, never apologize for being upset. Or for telling me that youâre upset. You are allowed to be upset and I want to be able to help you. Itâs always you and me.â You stared at him for a moment before pulling him into another hug.
âThank you.â
âYou donât have to thank me either.â Ajax hugged you tightly. âNow, come on, dinnerâs done.â
As you pulled back from the hug to follow him into the kitchen, you raised an eyebrow, wiping the remnants of your tears, âYou cooked?â
He gave you a goofy grin, âI wanted to surprise you and you mentioned before that you didnât like going out on school nights because of the early mornings.â You could hardly believe you had such a genuine man to be your boyfriend.Â
âI love you.â
He winked at you over his shoulder, his tell-tale grin on his face, âI know.â He laughed as you swatted at his shoulder, âFine, fine. I love you.â He kissed the air in your direction as he plated the two meals.
#genshin impact x reader#x reader#genshin x reader#male reader#x male reader#genshin x male reader#arataki itto x reader#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#ajax x reader#diluc x reader#homophobia#please heed the warnings#based off real scenarios#I am def writing for more characters#i just really wanted to get something out so i finished the one i was working on and posted it lmao#he/him reader#x reader preferences
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carcar the last of us au snippet
warnings: past character death, descriptions of the infected, descriptions of use of weapons and violence
What Carlos wants to say, in a way fashioned entirely after his father: That grave is about as deep as it needs to be. No one has the luxury to mourn. Stop fucking around and move on or die standing still.
What he actually says: âDo you need help?â
âNo,â Oscar says, curt. âI should be the one to lay him to rest.â
âOkay,â Carlos says.
Maybe itâll help Oscar, and Carlos shouldnât begrudge him that. Help him avoid the scenario in which every infected thereafter shared facial characteristics with Charles. Max. A pretty mouth, a strong jaw. Itâs his fault, after all. Carlos should have taken the time to bury all of that under the dirt. But all he could do was run.
Thereâs an almost relaxing rhythmic sound to the ground being hacked up, and a different kind of tanginess to the smell of fresh earth that lets him forget about blood for a moment.
He could be kind, sit at the foot of the grave and listen to Oscar talk about Logan. Why he thought coming back to where they grew up was a good idea. All these good ideas crumbling to dust, at every town they've witnessed that has eaten itself from the inside out.
Carlos closes his eyes. He doesnât quite know what to do with another faceless loss, canât add another number to his collection.
And anyway, Oscar's seen his fair share. Heâs too good with the shovel for this to be his first.
Carlos clears his throat, when Oscar's finally done placing some leafy branch at the head of the grave. Flowers. On a grave. Thatâs some doe-eyed rose-tinted bullshit. Thereâs a strangled bird, caged somewhere to the left of Carlosâ chest. He doesnât allow that bird any food or warmth or hope, for fear of softness. Canât be soft if you want to survive. Â
âWe should move,â he says.
âWe?â Oscar reels his head up. The loss carving its way down his cheeks havenât fully dried, but he looks hopeful, almost like a lost dog. With how Carlos acts, he probably hadn't expected an offer like this. It should've been cut and dry. Getting you to your city, in exchange for a car battery.
âItâs a simple question,â Carlos says. âAre you coming?â
If he wasnât already fucked all ways to Sunday, making his way along this forsaken earth with two rounds of ammunition and less than a quart tank of gas left, heâs definitely fucked now, adding a bleeding heart to their journey. But Carlos imagines Charlesâ face if he were to leave a kid behind andâdamn him for that. For being a ghost and still demanding good of him.
âYes,â Oscar says.
Arguments and energy spent on arguments should be saved for the important things. Carlos throws whatâs left of their shit into the back of the trunk, and wordlessly, gets into the driverâs seat.
--
âIâm just saying.â Oscarâs insistent. Heâs spent the first half an hour of the journey staring vacantly out the window, but apparently, country musicâs where he draws the line. âIf for some reason this car caught on fireââ
âDonât you even dare,â Carlos says. The thought of losing the Sienna makes him want to shrivel up and die. With luck, they managed to jack a vehicle with a working CD player. Tunes are a necessity in what is essentially a never-ending road trip. âI donât want to think about it.â
âIf it did,â Oscar says, âand I only had time to save one albumââ
âZach Bryan,â Carlos says.
âNo,â Oscar says flatly.
âDios mio. I should have left you back there.â
âYou nearly did,â Oscar points out, but it doesnât sound accusing. At Carlosâ furtive glance, he shrugs. âNo hard feelings. I know what youâre doing.â
âYeah?â Carlos doesnât like the sound of that, gets his back all up. Ten and two on the wheel, lest he reaches for Oscarâs shirt to shake him until his teeth rattle. âWhat am I doing?â
âSelf-defense,â Oscar says.
âI really should have left you.â
âI didnât mean that in a bad way.â Seemingly chastised, Oscar digs his teeth into his lower lip. Charles used to do that too, before he acquired the ability to unhinge his jaw and take larger bites. âYou look out for your own, right?â
Carlos wonders if Oscar can see his trauma for what it is. The way Carlos has been tuned toward Oscar in the passenger seat, as if an infected would crash through the windscreen at any second. The way heâd swerve right, driverâs seat to the road, without a second thought, if it meant his neck would be exposed instead of Oscarâs.
Heâs got nothing to offer but his own body.
âIâm doing such a great job of it.â
âMate,â Oscar says warily. If he could hedgehog his way any further into the carâs upholstery, he would be so far back heâd be invisible by now. Zach croons in the staticky background, There ainât no world in which I am good for you. Ainât no world, now or ever. âI wasnât saying you werenât.â
âNo, really,â Carlos says, a little hysterically, âIâm doing such a great jobââ
--
There were things in the world that should not have applied to Charles. Spend upwards of two months to four years with him and youâd start to imagine that his fingernails never got dirty, or that his smile never got ugly, or that his face never got bloodied.
But he turned like everyone else.
His skin bleached itself until every single vein was visible, and his eyes lost all recognition. He could still speak, for the first bit. Said their names in what was almost a parody. Cahlos. Cahhhlos.
âWe have to,â Max couldnât finish his sentence, though he kept trying. âWe have toââ
Charles lunged for them like a rabid animal. They cringed, but the tire chains wound around Charles hold fast, and he shrunk back. Before lunging again, and again. If Carlos were a better man, heâd put Charles out of his misery. Too bad he was a big fucking coward.
âDonât,â Carlos hissed, absolutely feral, when Max squared his shoulders and took a step forward. âDonât touch him.â
Maxâs chest rose and fall in rapid succession. His eyes were glassy and hollow. Max, who Carlos had never seen shed a tear once, who they all joked would survive them all. He looked a gentle tap away from breaking. âThis isnât about our stupid feelings, itâs about what Charles would have wanted.â
âFuck you,â Carlos said, to nobody in particular. To maybe himself. Charles was his responsibility when they went on the raid for food, and Charles was still his responsibility now. Till the end. Heâd shown Carlos the bite on his calf, almost guiltily, and remained docile and quiet when Carlos wrapped him in chains, while Carlos breathed through what was most definitely a panic attack.
Easy, Carlos. Youâve got to care of Max now. Easy, come on, breathe Carlos. It doesnât hurt much, not now anyway. Just. Do me a favour. Make it quick, alright?
Cahhhhlos.
âIâll take care of it,â Carlos said, because all of this was his fault. In the chaos at the grocery store, he got separated from Charles for a harrowing two and half minutes. That was all it took. âJust. Just give me a moment. Just give me a second, alright?â
Charles snarled, snapping his teeth against the metal biting into his skin. This couldnât be how Carlos remembered him.
âIâll do it in the morning,âCarlos promised. Iâll do it after sunrise, so he gets to see it one last time.
In the morning, this is what he found:
Charles, chest cavity open, lying still like he was peacefully asleep.
And Max, bleeding out from a bite wound in his forearm, the gun used to lay Charles to rest tucked at his feet. His skin was paper white, but his eyes were still bright.
âI fucked up,â Max said. It was the way he said it. Completely accepting and calm. It made Carlos drop to his knees and hack out the nothing he had left in his stomach. Bile burned his throat raw. âI thought I could do it, so you wouldnât have to. Sorry.â
Carlos trembled, pushed his forehead into the ground. The entire world was bearing down on him like a magnifying glass on an ant. He didnât want to look up. If he didnât look up, then this didnât have to be real.
âCarlos,â Max said, more gently than Carlos had ever heard him. By some magnetic, supernatural force, it lifted Carlosâ head from the dirt. Max had enough in him to kick the gun over to Carlos, and life in him yet for the corner of his mouth to twitch up. âYou can do it.â
Carlos shook his head mutely.
The expression on Maxâs face morphed into something unfamiliar. Pleading. It would carry itself into Carlos��� nightmares and every single infected running after him after. âYou can. Just donât fuck it up this time.â
--
âIâm,â Oscar says. He sounds heartbroken for people he doesnât even know. âIâm sorry about your friends.â
âYou didnât know,â Carlos says. He never should have said anything. Maybe itâs the kid, snapping, I should be the one to do it. Mirrors are a relic of the past, but Carlos looks at Oscar and sees the same jagged stubbornness lining all his edges. âIâm sorry about Logan.â
They pass the rest of the drive in silence.
#athy texts#fanfic#rpf#carcar#please heed the warnings#hey remember when#remember when naughty dog built up two characters that you fell in love with#killed one of them off#made you despise the character who killed him#AND THEN made you play 10+ hours of gameplay using the character you despised?#YEA I REMEMBER THAT TOO#anyway#this is carlos as joel and oscar as ellie#guess what happens at the end!!!!!#guess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#tlou au
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Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)
Relationships: Alastor/Vox (Hazbin Hotel)
Characters: Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)
Additional tags: Vox is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Non-Consensual Touching, Rape/Non-con Elements, Hypnotism, Victim Blaming, Gaslighting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Unreliable Narrator.
Summary:
The first and only time Vox hypnotizes Alastor theyâre eight years into this almost-something, into this dancing-around-it.
The opportunity presents itself when Alastor pops in his department, a hurricane of energy and movement, giddy about some deal he made, about this other-overlord Vox stopped paying attention to, the moment Alastor reached out to trace a finger over his screen, demanding attention when he turned to look for the nice whiskey he knows Alastor likes.
So, Vox says:
âYou want me.â
#Today I offer you some suffering#hazbin hotel fanfic#fanfic#hazbin hotel#vox hazbin hotel#alastor hazbin hotel#Alastor#Radiosilence#onewaybroadcast#radiostatic#please heed the warnings
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Hm, well I didn't want to make another post about this Neil stuff but I really can't help myself after seeing a trend today. Please note under the cut I will be discussing triggering topics and exercise due caution.
Understandably people are combing through the available information. I've seen multiple posts breaking down the podcast etc and digging up information on the sources. I see no problem with looking into the information with an open mind, do what you gotta do to sleep at night or whatever.
But something to bear in mind as you do your research is this:
The perfect victim does not exist.
And I'm watching a lot of you analyze the available information and brush it off as false or "iffy" because it doesn't fit the mythical narrative of a perfect victim of SA.
There are so many reasons why someone may appear to consent to something, or even openly consent to something, and still be experiencing SA.
The power dynamics in both these allegations are red flags at the very least. The age gaps, the situations reported, Neil's status as a celebrity and an employer in some instances, and a more experienced person overall than either of the victims, coupled with "BDSM" elements (air quotes because actual BDSM culture is a very consent oriented culture.) It's so easy for things to spiral into coercion and manipulation and ultimately non-consensual acts if the more advantaged party isn't very careful, very knowledgeable about consent, and ruthlessly responsible.
Even if the answer was yes on paper, or even in the moment, true, actual, moral consent is contextual and fluid and requires a lot of work when there's a large power imbalance.
So internet sleuth away, dig up more information, all that jazz. Ultimately you looking into the allegations has no bearings on any legal proceedings.
But don't think for a second that just because the allegations don't fit a narrative of perfect victimhood, that someone wasn't experiencing SA.
And if you're clinging to the hope you can soothe your way out of feeling guilty for liking Neil's work by solving the mystery of these allegations and looking for all the reasons they can't be true, I really urge you to go read my other post about decoupling fandom from celebrity worship (ie: fandom is morally neutral.)
Just remember that as you pick this information apart, the things you say about it are being heard by people in your fandom who may not have been "the perfect victim" themselves (ahem me, for instance.)
#good omens#neil gaiman#please heed the warnings#i wanna say this is all im gonna say on it but tbh probably not
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masterlist
updated 08/10/24
miya atsumu
permanent fix
miya osamu
right at home
sakusa kiyoomi
a few pushes
kageyama tobio
distribution system
kibutsuji muzan
little singing bird
eren yeager
strange progression
dabi / todoroki touya
dad thief
bakugou katsuki
ten years in the making
#masterlist#haikyuu smut#kny smut#tw.yandere#tw.dark content#haikyuu x reader#kny x reader#aot x reader#aot smut#please heed the warnings#mha smut#bnha smut#mha x reader#bnha x reader
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WIP Wednesday
So here is a brief bit of Future!Andrew in my Math Nerd AU. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANY OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. Andrew's in a dark place.
Trigger Warnings: Depression / Grief, Planning Suicide, suicidal thoughts, and suicide
Andrew holds the urn in his arms and regrets.
Neil had died alone in that hospital room. Died alone because Andrew had never had the courage to get down on one knee and propose properly. Died alone and in pain because Andrew had never gotten the POAs heâd considered multiple times for both of them, but he hadnât because it felt like admitting too much. Died alone, in pain, andâŚ
Andrew could only ever tell Neil that he hated him.
Andrew knows that Neil knew he didnât hate him. Neil had understood that Andrew would never live with someone he actually hated. Neil had understood that Andrew wouldnât have adopted pets with someone he hated. Neil had understood that Andrew wouldnât let someone he hated touch him the way that Neil had been allowed to touch him.
Andrew doesnât know if Neil understood that Andrew loved him.
Andrew isnât even sure if he had fully understood until it was too late and Neil had died alone, in pain, and unsure of Andrewâs love because Andrew had never said it.
He looks down at the urn and the list of âoptionsâ Neil had given him and knows that Neil had not understood that Andrew could not and would not continue to live their future alone.
His friends and family had seem to accept that this was only the first funeral.
Neilâs will was short and sweet. He had left everything to Andrew Joseph Minyard and Andrew spent the month after Neilâs funeral sorting out his own arrangements.
He left large amounts to both of his Nieces and felt faintly bad that he was never going to see them grow up but he had almost puked when Lilly had asked him where Uncle Neil was.
He couldnât answer her.
Heâs going to where Uncle Neil is.
Heâll claw his way to wherever Neil had gone in the great beyond and heâll tell him this time. Even an eternity in hellfire being tortured next to Neil was better than a single moment without Neil.
He gives Kevin their cats.
Kevin takes Duchess and Lady (Kingâs daughters) and he looks at Andrew with watery eyes, âHe wouldnât want-â
âI want Neil.â Andrew had said and Kevinâs jaw clenches so hard that Andrew wonders if he cracks a tooth.
Kevin takes a large number of their pictures. More than even Matt, Aaron or Nicky had taken. Andrew watches as Kevin puts them up among the three pictures of pride of the Day household. The large framed photos of Kevin, Jean, Jeremy, Neil, and Andrew through their years winning Olympic Gold for America.
Neilâs smile is so beautiful in each photo that Andrew leaves early.
He wants Neil.
He canât sleep right without Neil.
He had never once held Neil and slept but theyâd shared a bed for years and years. Andrew canât sleep without that precious weight on the other side of the bed. Neilâs scent is fading from the linens and Andrew struggles to find one of Neilâs shirts that still smells like him.
Renee tries the hardest to change his mind.
Her beliefs are strong as ever but when she had showed up in person to talk to him and had seen how he looked she must have realized that there was nothing she could say to convince him.
She holds him tight and she prays for him.
Then she lets him go.
Neil had been surprisingly thorough in his instructions for his funeral.
Andrew knows that Neil had often planned it out as a way to manage the stress of the whole situation with the Moriyamas. Neil had lived a decade with the threat of his own demise should he fail to give Ichirou the profits the man desired. It had been better after Neilâs accident and subsequent year spent in PT and as Ichirouâs accountant.
Ichirou had released Neil from his deal after the man had gotten his first ever tax return and had even promised to release Jean and Kevin if Neil agreed to become his full-time accountant after he retired from Exy.
Neil had agreed.
The years afterwards had been bliss and Neil had retired when his old injury made it too painful to play. Andrew had been mystified that he would have a longer professional career than Neil but Andrew had come to tolerate Exy and the money he was paid to stand in the goal and do something he was naturally good at was too good to turn away from.
He and Neil had lived comfortably, had traveled, were going to see Australia in two months to enjoy the off season.
But now Neil was gone.
Andrew laid down in the bed he had shared with Neil. He had one of Neilâs favorite shirts under his cheek and held Neilâs urn in his arms.
Neil had been very clear that he wanted to be cremated and that he wanted his ashes to be with Andrew.
Neil had left him numerous ideas on what Andrew could do with them. He could imagine Neil smiling as he found out about some of them. He wonders if Neil had smiled over his top suggestion which was a link to a website that would forge weapons, knives, out of ashes.
Andrew has not used Neilâs body.
The thought of turning any part of Neil into the the weapon that had hurt him so many times was agonizing.
Still, he knows that Neil likely put it down as an option because Neil would never believe that Andrew would actually keep Neilâs ashes close if he couldnât be useful to Andrew in some practical way.
Neil never would have imagined that his urn was a relic that Andrew would cherish and hold onto. The ashes inside were the only thing that made it possible for him to keep going as he set all of his affairs in order.
Neil was so stupid and Andrew missed him like he would miss both of his lungs.
The drugs were kicking in.
Ichirou had reached out and expressed his sincere condolences. The man who had killed the Moriyama accountant would pay dearly but Andrew had hardly cared. A drunken manâs death would not bring Neil back to him.
Ichirou had offered him something else.
âFor a nominal fee and as an act of my respect for Neilâs efforts for my family I can get you what you seek.â Ichirou had said cryptically but Andrew had understood.
He paid Ichirou and Ichirou had delivered Andrew what he needed to go and see Neil.
He wouldnât cut himself. Neil had been so proud when heâd reached 10 years without a relapse.
The world is growing darker. Neilâs scent growing fainter no matter how he presses his face into the shirt.
He holds on to Neilâs urn.
Heâll see him soon.
***
Andrew wakes up.
Heâs going to fucking murder Ichirou Moriyama.
For that insane ânominal feeâ Andrew should not be waking up.
His head aches and his mouth is like sandpaper, âAndrew, are you okay?â A voice that is familiar but wrong comes from his side and when Andrew cracks his eye open (blurry, is that blood) he sees Aaron, except it canât be Aaron because he looks like heâs 20 again.
What the fuck.
#Math Nerd AU#WIP Wednesday#Please heed the warnings#AFTG AU#AFTG#Andreil#Andrew Minyard#AFTG Fics#My Fics
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Dead Boy Detectives Victor AU: Amnesia Sequel Chapter 2! (aka: Monty and Charles are Going Through It)
So, this one, once again, is brutal. Please heed the tags on the author's note because Monty, Charles, and Edwin are not coping well. They are coping badly and have never been good at communicating in the first place so add a dash of amnesia, Thomas King handing over a recording, and a metric shitton of misunderstandings/assumptions and things get brutal.
To be a Victor's child is to inherit a legacy of violence, but more importantly, it is to inherit a legacy of loneliness. Of a life trapped, caged, stuck in a basement under the hand of the very person who was supposed to care for you but only ever shoved you under their boot.
It is about reaching for kindness and finding none save what you scrape up for yourself. It is about love, and the place where love meets pain, and the place where pain becomes love because that's all you know. It is about punishing yourself, even after your parents are gone, because someone has to do it, right?
But most importantly, it is about reaching the place where you finally understand that you have to step out of the basement in order to see the stars.
It's a terrifying idea. The basement, the cane, the belt, is all you've known. How could you ever let it go?
So you find yourself switching a basement for an underground District, an Arena for a Capitol for a marriage that collapses around your shaking fingers. You collect reminders: a ring, iron, like your mother's cane; a set of rocks, hard, like your father's wedding rock.
You will have to Remake them into something your own.
Or you're not going to survive.
@deadboy-edwin @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @icecreambrownies @anonymousbooknerd-universe @magpiemarten
@hartigays @tragedy-machine @just-existing-as-you-do-blog @orpheusetude @mj-irvine-selby
@pappelsiin @itsbitmxdinhere @rexrevri @sweet-like-h0ney-lavender @saffirez
@the-ipre @sunnylemonss @days-light @agentearthling @helltechnicality
@tiredghostby @sethlost @catboy-cabin
#victor au#hunger games#hunger games au#dead boy detectives#charles rowland#monty the crow#monty finch#edwin payne#fanfic#my fics#ao3#aletterinthenameofsanity#edwin x charles x monty#amnesia fic#fic update#writing update#PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS
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drops link to Ao3 post on my account and runs
#sebastian solace roblox#sebastian solace#roblox sebastian solace#pressure roblox#pressure sebastian#roblox pressure#sebastian pressure#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#archive of our own#fanfic#ao3 writer#fanfic writing#please heed the warnings
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Hi
Before I get into this I need to lay some warnings and where this came from. This piece is incredibly personal and therapeutic for me. Itâs also incredibly self indulgent and directly takes from my life currently. Iâm 30, struggling with finding steady income, lots of sexual trauma, relationship trauma, PTSD, PCOS, depression, anxiety, and just a slew of other things. Iâve been questioning why Iâm struggling to date and why I have a hard time with intimacy. And it is because I have been SAâd and r*p*ed. Opening up is very difficult and itâs something Iâve been coming to terms with. Iâve been really having a hard time just being alive so please read this carefully. I definitely have this for the 25+ crowd but if you relate to this at all please know youâre not alone. I love you and Iâm here for you and hope you get the help you need.
Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x fem!reader
Warnings: post time skip, female reader, implied mention of previous SA, struggle with trauma, very self indulgent, depression, anxiety, mental health problems
Word count: 1.3K
The credits roll on the screen in front of you, the music becoming less exciting as the font and names get smaller. Your eyes are glued to the jumble of letters in front of you, trying your hardest to avoid the jumble of words stuck in your throat. You twiddle your thumbs as the man next to you sighs again and lowers the volume.
âI know you didnât invite me over to watch âClueâ in revered silence.â
You mumble and circle in on yourself. âI said some of my favorite quotes when they happenedâŚâ
Your best friend rolls his eyes before turning you around gently to face him. He runs a hand through his blond tufts before attempting to get up. âWell pipsqueak, Iâm glad I got to watch this movie but I have practice tomorrow morning so-â
You feel your stomach drop and you instinctively reach out for his wrist. Your eyebrows furrow in worry as your mouth dries up as the words flutter away. âI⌠please donât go.â
Tsukishima eases his stance and sits back down on the couch with you and rests his chin in his hand. A call knowing yet gentle smirk adorns his face as he relaxes again. âAgain I ask, why did you invite me over? I know it wasnât to just watch this movie with me. Youâve got plenty of other options.â He sits back with another sigh, resting his head against the top of the sofa. With a slight disgruntled scoff, he softly asks, âwhat about that guy who gave you his number? Iâm sure heâd wanna spend time with you.â You miss the way his body language shifts beside you, his arms crossed tighter than usual as your mind floods with racing thoughts.
You rub at your shoulders before resting your feet back on the cold floor. âI, I canât do it. I canât go out with him.â
Tsukishima tilts his head toward you, maneuvering to face you. âHe wasnât a creep was he? I always thought your taste in men was disturbing.â
âItâs not that!â
The words roar out of your mouth faster than your brain can catch up. Your hands grip the fabric of the couch, your fingers digging into it as a means to stabilize yourself. âItâs, itâs me okay? Iâm the problem!â You find yourself standing up with all the energy bubbling through you. âI want intimacy, I crave it! But the minute itâs brought up to me as an optionâŚI panic!â Your voice raises in volume and pitch as you begin to pace back and forth in front of the television. Tsukishima watches you with bated breath as he watches your expression change as your thoughts run amuck.
âI canât,â you huff, âI canât open up all those wounds of m-my past, a-and the trauma Iâve endured! I have to reintroduce myself all over again! And so what if theyâre nice? I donât know them, I donât trust them. They could hurt me and I wouldnât know because I donât know them!
âWhat if theyâre just like every other guy Iâve been with or loved, huh? What if, what if they just tell me all of these things to get to my body. What then, Kei?â Your shoulders begin to shake as sobs rack your form. Warm tears cascade down your cheeks as you haphazardly rub at them. Your best friend watches you carefully, his hands molded together to hold in his own feelings. As much as he enjoys being the one you vent to, heâs unsure how to care for you. All he wants to do at this moment is hug you and take away your fears and anxieties. But he knows too well that you donât need someone to fix things for you. He quickly blinks away tears that threaten to leave the corner of his eyes.
âHow am I supposed to put myself out there when Iâve done that and have been hurt, and rejected, and lied to at every turn? Theyâll say everything I want to hear and then say I just wanna fuck you. Is that all Iâm good for? A good fuck and no commitments? Iâm not good enough to be committed to.â
Tsukishima grinds his teeth and digs his nails into his knees.
âAnd then! And then, the idea that I have to constantly keep working on myself to be ready to dateâŚbut how long will that take? And I canât say I want to fall in love because Iâm seen as desperate. Itâs worse cause Iâm over 25 and you know that. If no one wants me now then who will? I just wanna fall in love and be taken care of and take care of someone. Am I too traumatized for that? Am I-â
âEnough!â
Youâre interrupted from your tirade as your stomach drops. You hear flesh slap against the couch and the sound of your best friend stomping over to you. He takes your hands in his, lifting them over your head and walks you back to an empty patch of wall and presses you against it. His breathing is ragged as he stares down at you, his golden hues dilated as he takes in all of you.
âIf they do that to you, then fuck those guys. They donât deserve you.â He takes a second to catch his breath as his grip on you loosens for him to fix his glasses. âI know youâre scared. And itâs okay to be scared. Your feelings,â a free hand traces your face before cupping it gently, âare valid. How long have you known me?â He waits for your response and finds you struggling with your words. âLook at me when Iâm talking to you.â
You finally look up at him teary-eyed and find yourself getting butterflies in your stomach. âIf you donât want to open up and go on a date then donât. Donât force yourself to do something just because you think you should. Youâre as bad as Tadashi.â
You pout at his accusation that shockingly lifts your spirits a bit. You donât let go of his hand and continue to gaze into his eyes. âBut Iâm a hypocrite,â you whine, âhow can I crave intimacy but be scared of it?â
âBecause assholes decided to take advantage of you and violated you. That has nothing to do with you. Thatâs all on them. What happened to you, what those guys did:
âItâs not your fault.â
You start to cry again, understanding the deeper meaning behind his words as your back relaxes against the wall. You feel his rough yet gentle finger wipe away your tears. Tsukishima then brings you into a comforting hug, rubbing at your back to calm your crying. âI wish,â he starts, âI wish I could have done something to help. Iâm here now, but pipsqueak,â his voice shakes with a tremor, âfuck Iâm here, okay?â
You nod against his chest as your breathing has calmed down a bit more. âI,â you say muffled, âI donât wannaâŚâ
âYou donât have to, alright?â
You look up from the hug at his unsaid confession and are met with his flushed cheeks. âKei, what do youâŚ?â
Tsukishima bites his lip as he releases you from his embrace. âStupid, Iâm saying you donât have to open up to anyone else. Because you have me. And no more going on dates, thatâs what Iâm here for.â You hurriedly wipe away at your face as your jaw remains open. Is he saying what you think heâs saying?
You cough a bit at his unsaid confession and you suddenly feel way more nervous. âCan we,â you shyly begin, âkeep cuddling? I, uh, like when you hug meâŚâ
Tsukishima calmly kisses your cheek before leading you to the couch.
âAnything my girlfriend wants, she gets.â
#tsukishima kei x reader#Tsukishima x fem!reader#tsukishima x reader#tw: sa mention#tw: depression#tw: trauma#tw: mental health#please heed the warnings#my writing#i did the thing
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1k, prosenna
warnings: references to character death, grief/mourning
There were hands smoothing down the wrinkles in the sheets by his legs.
âGo away,â he said. âYou are dead.â
Ayrton rolled his eyes. âOf course,â he said, and went back to adjusting the blanket.
Ludicrous. Ghost Ayrton was trying to tuck him in. Alain was losing his mind.
âSo even in death, you seek to drive me mad.â
Ayrton pulled back, like that stung. Actually stung, physically. Which made no sense. Alain was talking to a shade his mind had cobbled up, in rejection of the reality. Some people had no business lying still. So, his imagination made them move.
âIâm trying to make you comfortable.â
âI am quite comfortable, thank you.â
âThen why canât you sleep?â Ayrton said softly.
Alain stared down at his hands, tangled in the sheets by his waist. He had lost faith in the veins running along his body to carry blood. If he looked in the mirror, he knew what heâd find. Haunted eyes, and a tiredness that stuck to flesh like wet film. Why couldnât he sleep?
âBecause you left,â Alain said. âWithout so much as a goodbye.â
Ayrtonâs face seemed whiter than before, if that were even possible. Even now, when nothing between them mattered any moreâeven now, they hurt each other.
âI am trying,â Ayrton said, âto right this wrong, can you understand that?â
âThen let me sleep,â Alain said.
It was close to eleven when Alain awoke. His alarm had been switched off. He did not remember doing that. There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. Ayrton had not left.
âNow, to the shops,â Ayrton announced, sounding so much like it was the tallest order of the day. âGet dressed, Alain.â
âNo,â Alain said. He had not left the house inâweeks. Since Imola.
Ayrton pursed his lips and squinted. It was all so familiar. He used to make that expression right before they argued. Alain could close his eyes and conjure it up, every frown line etched in its precise position. He supposed he was getting exceedingly good at recreating Ayrton from memory.
âGet dressed,â Ayrton said menacingly, âor I will dress you.â
Alain barked out a laugh. It grated against his ears like metal on metal, a crash on the track. He hadnât heard himself in what seemed like eons. Fine, fine. He could humour Ayrton, if only because he had made him laugh.
Ayrton watched with satisfaction as Alain drew clean clothes on. It didnât seem strange that Ayrton watched him while he changed, with something in his eyes Alain couldnât quite place. Or rather, something Alain couldnât bear to place, now that the something was no longer within reach.
They went to the market.
âWhy can't they see you?â
Ayrton scoffed. âWhy would I choose to appear to them?â
Alain shook his head. âWhy would you choose to appear to me?â
Ayrton looked at him as if Alain were deliberately being obtuse. Which was just typical. And comforting enough for the crack in his heart to tear open and bleed freely.
The shopkeepers must certainly think him mad. He was holding up produce for Ayrton to inspect. He was holding them up to thin air.
âPah,â Ayrton said. âYou call those oranges?â
Alain inspected the offending fruit. âWhat would you call them?â
âThose are yellows at best. This is what youâve been eating? No wonder youâve grown so thin.â
The weather was crisp, and Alainâs lips cracked when he smiled. He poked his tongue out to get at the blood, and let himself be bullied into purchasing grapefruit instead.
There was a light drizzle when they were finally done. Alain kept his walking pace while Ayrton seethed behind him. By the grace of the universe, Alain had been spared an apparition that could touch. If Alain could imagine the feel of Ayrton against him, then. Well. He wouldnât survive this.
âWalk faster,â Ayrton demanded. Every time he tried to push at Alain, his hands went clean through. âYou are getting soaked.â
âI donât mind,â Alain said. The chill of the air was refreshing, actually.
âI do,â Ayrton said. âCome on, your house is just around the corner.â
But Alain would not listen. He stood under the clouds as the sky opened up and mourned for Senna.
âCome in from the rain,â Ayrton pleaded with him.
Alain stayed, like a madman who would not be swayed. The immovable object to Ayrtonâs now very stoppable force. The paper bag holding his groceries tore, and the grapefruit thudded to the ground, coming to rest in puddles. He was allowed to relish in the anguish he was inflicting upon Ayrton. In return for the sorrow that now bound his every waking moment.
âWhat would you have me do?â Ayrton was shouting now. The rain adhered to his cheeks like tears. âFor you to come inside, Alain, what would you have me do?â
âCome back,â Alain said to the storm.
The rain kept falling. Alain did not know for how long. Could have been seconds. Or years. Alain was looking his grief right in the face. He was dimly aware that he was shivering wildly, that his teeth were chattering.
âI will never forgive you,â Ayrton said, his final attempt at moving Alain. âIf you allowed this to break you, I will never forgive you. You will never see peace, Alain, for I will never leave you.â
âWhat if,â he said, sounding for all the world like a child, lost and pathetic, âI wanted that?â
âYou are a fool,â Ayrton said harshly. His hands hovered a mere millimeter above Alainâs cheeks. He looked so much like he wanted to stroke Alain. It looked like pain, that he couldnât. âCome in from the rain, Prost, and live.â
Alain looked up. The sky was clearing. The earth continued to spin, as she always did. Alain crouched down, and picked up his fallen fruit. He took his time. Dragged it out. Allowed himself the taste of longing. When he turned to go home, Ayrton was no longer there.
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a work of art
SUMMARY: The swipes are precise. Hundreds litter her canvas with red streaks standing out against their pale background. Some are superficial while others gouge unsalvageable marks. Drips are unavoidable, Emma concedes, but the origin of these are the source of irritation.
Her job is not done. She has to work with these flaws to craft something he will be proud of. He is the experienced one, after all.
//
Emma and Killian are low-key serial killers but if you ask them, they're artists in love.
RATING:Â Mature
WORD COUNT:Â 1,686 words
TAGS:Â Modern AU, Serial Killers AU, Graphic Descriptions, Blood & Gore, Implied/Referenced Torture, Anti-Neal Cassidy, no magic, Dark Emma, Dark Killian, Toxic Relationship
AO3
AUTHORâS NOTE:Â got this idea from a whumptober prompt that was like "did i do good?" with a mentor/trainee and i misread the rest of the prompt and ended up turning it into a torture trainee wanting to please their mentor. and here we are. lol started out with dark ones but turned them into just serial killers.
this was a way for me to get into the head of someone twisted/evil. promise i'm mentally sane and emotionally okay, this was a writing exercise of sorts. pls dont worry hahaha
Please heed the warnings.
***
âI always have to clean up your messes,â she mutters to herself angrily, eyes glaring down at the red liquid on the floor. The deep color shines vibrantly in the candlelight as it pools together and grows larger as the seconds tick by. She snarls at the sound of labored breathing from the center of the room and slowly trails her eyes up to examine her work.
The swipes are precise. Hundreds litter her canvas with red streaks standing out against their pale background. Some are superficial while others gouge unsalvageable marks. Drips are unavoidable, Emma concedes, but the origin of these are the source of irritation.
Her job is not done. She has to work with these flaws to craft something he will be proud of. He is the experienced one, after all.
Anger fuels her as she moves, her arm sweeping this direction and that. The movements are practiced and learned though sheâs used different tools in the past. For the first time, he lets her take the lead and she cannot disappoint him. Especially after all the work he went through to procure such a magnificent canvas. A gift for her.
Weak protests fight to reach her ears but her focus drowns them out, thriving on each new mark she adds, each swipe and each gut-wrenching twist expressing the hurt and the anger sheâs held onto for so many years.
When she steps back, it is with a grin.
Nealâs body rests sprawled across a stone table in the center of the room. His lays bare but it goes unnoticed as he shows more blood than skin. His labored breathing is replaced by silence, brown eyes turning an empty black.
Blood drips down to the small puddle at her feet. It grows larger with each tick of the hall clock and she frowns as it pools around her new heeled boot.
Of fucking course. Neal can never let her have anything.
The room smells rancid, blood and sweat permeating the air. Darkness blankets the room like it does her soul, only scarcely lit by a few candles hanging on the walls. Moonlight struggles to shine through the cracks in the concrete to no avail. Emma prefers the darkness now. She thrives in it.
Wailing echoes fill the quiet.
The metal of her dagger is warm in her grip and she shakes her head at the blood that covers the blade. At least thatâll be easier to clean than her leather boot.
She sets to work washing her tools, leaving the rest of the room as it is. She wants him to see how long she kept Neal alive to suffer. How he was aware of every single way she tarnished his body until the very end. The way his nails scratched at the stone so hard until they fell off revealing bloody nailbeds. That even in death, his eyes remained open from his terror.
He still got off easy, in her opinion.
Thereâs a noise, the muffled sound of a door closing and Emmaâs head pops up in delight.
Killian grins wide when he sees her emerge from the basement, sleeves rolled to her elbows and hair pulled back in tight bun. They come together in a messy kiss thatâs more tongues and teeth than lips.
She loves the way he loves her with abandon. Every time their mouths meet, he practically devours her and she gives as good as she gets. Fingers wrap around the hair at the base of his neck and she pulls while his hook traces lightly on her skin enough to draw blood but not do any serious harm. It sends chills down her spine every time.
His hands are greedy and he makes an attempt to lift her shirt but she steps out of his arms instead.
âSwan?â he asks, voice gruff and hair mused. He glares at her even if thereâs no heat to it and Emma smiles back, nearly giggles.
âI want you to show you something.â
Her hand reaches towards him and he leaves her hanging for a moment. They both love the push and pull of their relationship. To tetter on the edge of a decision builds anticipation. Rejection is just a split-second away but so is acceptance. Not knowing which one will be chosen sends their hearts racing. Itâs an effect of their upbringing, she knows. She did take a psychology class in community college after all.
It only makes sense, really. His abusive childhood with a drunk father and a brother dead too young and her untethered young life moving from foster home to foster home without any roots or support. Pain has been something out of their control for so long. Something always inflicted onto them unwillingly. But meeting each other in the back of their Psych 101 class all those years ago gave them a mutual understanding.
Pain can be something they command.
Killian had fallen first. They both tried, for the first year or two, to be better than what they came from. They wanted to have the picturesque life so many promised was to come but they struggled. Depression and temptation waited around every corner and they felt themselves falling into a pit they couldnât climb out of.
And then Graham kissed her.
Killian and she had been on a break at the time. He was spiraling and Emma was trying to stay on track. Their tempers rose and, for the first time in her life, she walked out on someone else. Graham had been kind, sweet, and unassuming. He worked as a campus security guard and was helping her find her shitty car when he kissed her. Killian had been leaving his class and had a full view of the moment it happened. Emma pushing Graham away only did so much to soothe the anger in his soul.
Then Graham showed up dead a week later in the woods by campus, bruises on his head, marks around his throat, and his chest clawed open with no heart taking up its specified space.
Sheâd been mad when she realized what Killian did. She threatened to go to the police, even. And then she saw the crazed look in Killianâs eyes, the way he pleaded for her to understand.
âEmma,â he begged. âHe crossed a line. You donât understand. Youâre mine. He thought he could have whatâs mine.â
Through his tears, she saw the love, the possession. It warmed her to her toes. The unwanted foster kid â wanted by him. She swore she fell in love even more that day.
Emma would lay in bed with him at night and asked how he did it. She requested details, wanted to know every step he took. He would hold her close, his fingers leaving permanent marks on her hips, and she floated as he shared exactly what he did to ensure she stayed his.
It was another two years before he struck again, her by his side this time. Arthur was full of himself, an asshole to anyone who didnât make more money than him, and dead set on evicting the entirety of their apartment building so he could sell the property to a developer. No one shed any tears at the announcement of his death.
Nearly ten years had gone by and yet this is the most exciting one for Emma. Neal was her white whale, so they say. Heâd taken advantage of her sixteen years of life when heâd been nearing thirty and split the moment she found out she was pregnant. Took all her cash and the food she bought the day beforehand for their motel stay. She was left alone as she let go of the child she so desperately wanted to have. Even after he left her, she was still cleaning up his messes.
But now she stands in the kitchen she shares with Killian and raises her eyebrows as she bites her lip in wait. Will he take it or ignore it? Her heart races. Her breath hitches just a moment before he takes her offered hand and she contemplates bypassing her art project to ride him in the kitchen instead.
Bringing him to the basement, she waits in the doorway as Killian steps over the threshold. His eyes scan the room in a slow, calculating fashion. Leaning over Nealâs body, he hums as he takes in her work. Fingers trace her cuts, one dipping into the gaping hole in his side. Thereâs little left of his genitalia, the ferocious way it was obliterated earning a cocked eyebrow from Killian before he looks over to her with a grin. She blushes at the pride in his eyes.
The squelch from stepping in blood draws his attention to the floor. He dips his hand in the liquid and lifts his fingers to his face. The puddle grew from when she was in there a few minutes ago and Killian takes a good moment to examine it.
âDid I do good?â she asks, hands in her back pockets. Eagerness is undeniable in her voice.
Killian stands suddenly and marches towards her. He grips her hips â the cold metal of his hook sending a chill down her spine as Nealâs blood from his fingers smear across her skin â and pulls her in for a filthy kiss. Their bodies are flush but itâs not enough and the way his tongue strokes against her own has her frantically clawing at his pants.
Wailing echoes in the silence again and they pull apart only slightly dismayed.
The crying brings a spark to Killianâs eyes and Emma is torn between where each of their thoughts are going, both outcomes bound to bring her pleasure.
Killian presses another firm kiss to her lips before he tilts his head towards the other end of the basement where their special project waits for their return. His own white whale he somehow conquered and takes pride in making submit to him.
She knows the question before he asks so she merely grins wide at him as he speaks.
âShall we go skin a crocodile?â
#my writing#temporarystatus#captain swan#cs fanfic#my fics#captain swan fanfic#captain swan au#please heed the warnings#graphic descriptions#this was a writing exercise of sorts#trying to write evil/wicked/disturbed characters
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he knows
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Rating: Teen & Up
Warnings: Miscommunication, talk of cheating, talk of sexual abuse/CSA, victim blaming
After your first trip back home since you started dating, you start acting strangely around your boyfriend. When he finally confronts you, you break down and confess.
Read it here on AO3!
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#gender neutral reader#hurt/comfort#please heed the warnings
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For those of you who have read Whispers in the past, just know that I appreciate your patience with me....I do have the ending mapped out for it and I will finish it.
Today, I made a better trailer for it, as the first one was pretty old. ;)
TRIGGER WARNINGS below for those who haven't read yet.
youtube
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Relationship(s): Murtagh/Orrin
Summary: Yearning makes him careless, but five lonely, numbing years since returning war-torn to his throne have made caution lose its luster. Not everything he risks losing matters to him the way it once did, and exhaustion has worn away his strength to deny his heart what it yearns for. So Orrin escapes to find comfort in the touch of a stranger.
-What should be a stranger.
Word Count: 10,427
Warnings: Mentions of su*cidal thoughts, Implied nsfw content
A/N: HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE give it a chance, I swear there's a method to my madness! This ship is pure gold and I'll prove it. This premise for their first meeting has been in my head for years and years and it felt so good to finally polish it write it out.
#inheritance cycle#eragon#murtagh#murtagh morzansson#orrin#murtagh x orrin#mxo#my writing#ao3#please heed the warnings#also please let this show in the tags lol#if you comment ill love you literally forever ill owe you my life#(also if you send me asks about them đ)#i couldnt resist the temptation of posting this sooner rather than later#the long fic is still coming
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For my best friend, @eddie-munsons-guitar86!
Raven requested: Angela and her crew harassing el outside of highschool and billy stepping in
trigger warnings for: bullying, sexual harassment, ableism, and implied abuse.
In California, El is allowed to go to school.
In California, the people arenât like the party. They arenât her friends.
Max told her that when she and her brother moved into the duplex apartment next to the new house she shares with her family. Itâs nice to have people so close who know their secret. Person.
Only Max ever visits for dinner. Sheâs not scared of Maxâs big brother. Not even when she watches him burn their Christmas card from her window, or when she sees the big tears in his eyes that reflect in the first. He stopped burning them after she left a few dozen more in their mailbox.
If Will is her brother, and the party are her friends, then Max is more than all of that combined. But she isnât here right now. She has classes in the other end of the building, for the program El isnât allowed into. Joyce says itâs special, what Max learns, and it makes her jealous, but sheâs happy.
They meet up at the end of every day outside, sometimes Max gives her a bracelet she made in class, or a sticker she found on her paper, and always a kiss on the cheek, and then they ride home in their cars.
But todayâŚ
âHey snitch! Wait up.â
Angela. Her worst not-friend. Max says her voice sounds like chalkboard nails and vomit. Whatever that means, El agrees. It makes her feel a chill in her spine that makes her walk a little faster out of the front doors.
Her automatic response is to try to reject her, âSchool is over, Angela.â
Thereâs more of her friends than there is El though. Max is on the other side of the school, and El is closed in right outside the front door. Dread burns under her skin.
Sheâs reminded of the last time, when she tried to use her powers. Max wasnât here in their new town yet, so nobody told her what to do. Nobody knew.
Thereâs three things. Walk away. Get help. Fight back, with fists. Until itâs that bad, she tries to just go fast.
But Angela catches her by the arm. âHey, now. We just wanted to catch up.â
El sets her jaw, stays determined, âI'm going home.â
âHm, youâre cute.â Angela sneers at her. El doesnât understand what that has to do with anything. Will tried to teach her about âsarcasm.â That must be what it is, but she doesnât have time to work through it before Angela is laughing in her face.
The bully flicks the front of her shirt, where there's a patch by one of the buttons that ripped off. âWell, not really. I mean, just look at what youâre wearing. What is this, Cinderella?â
âCinder-ella?â El canât even tell if itâs mean. Sheâs just confused.
Until someone from Angelaâs crowd shouts, clearing away any doubt, âIt means you're ugly and poor.â
Her face turns red and warm. Embarrassed. They talk to her like a child. A stupid child. Thatâs what they call her. âThat isnât nice.â
It wasnât the right thing to say. They say sheâs slow. That she canât keep up. It feels that way every time Angela speaks again. El doesnât get any of it.
âOh, donât worry. Weâll help you. Just think of me like, your fairy godmother.â
Itâs not hard to understand what happens next.
Angela grabs the sleeve of her patched-up shirt, and pulls. It knocks El off her balance and she falls. Her backpack is heavy, and it makes her tip over on her front. The sidewalk scrapes her hands and makes them burn.
Hunched over, there are people behind her. They look at her strangely. They say things.
âNo wonder she hides under all those ugly clothes.â
âLooks like the freak grew up.â
El doesnât know whatâs wrong with her. Her body.
And then the touches start. One of the boys smacks her on the bottom. She falls forward again and they all laugh.
So they keep doing it.
Then their hands start to linger.
âStop it!â El demands, with the most power she can manage in her voice.
But her powers are gone. And sheâs scared.
âWe just want to get to know you better, Jane.â Angela kneels down to address her to her face. While the boys who are her friends hurt El. She pouts. Fake. Like a snap, that face changes.
âSo why donât you open up!â She grabs the shirt El is wearing by the neck part, and pulls again. Laughs.
The shirt tears in half. It was broken when it got washed, before that it was Hoppers. Now thereâs just one sleeve left on her. Sheâs just in a tank top and jeans and the scraps of her dad's shirt. Cold.
Cold tears on her face.
The bullies are laughing. Hurting her. Yelling.
âEveryone, come help poor Jane!â
âTell her what you think of her new look!â
Across the parking lot, parked in the only blue painted space on campus, is the scariest person sheâs not scared of.
For fifteen minutes every weekday, Billy smokes a cigarette while he waits to pick Max up. Just Max. He doesnât have the time of day to chauffeur her little friends around. He spends enough time waiting around, like thereâs shit else better he can do than waste his life away looking out for his shitty little sister.
Not that he believes that anymore.
But it keeps his mind busy from the ache in his chest and the faint taste of blood that accompanies every cigarette. Every day is the same damn thing. The most interesting thing that happens is a small crowd gathering right by the front entrance of the school.
Usually he just keeps an eye on the bus doors, since thatâs where Max always leaves from, but heâs been extra high alert lately. Tipped off by the shitbird herself about some new bully chick thatâd been bothering them all since they started up school this year.
Running with a gut feeling, he decides to check it out further for himself. The worst that could happen is it wasnât Max or her friends, and he still helps some random kid out. Not ideal for the loner image heâs been going for since the accident, but better than standing by while some freshman gets the shit beat out of them or something. Heâd done enough of that uncaring shit.
If thereâs one thing Billy Hargrove is good at, itâs being intimidating. His name carries implications anymore, rumors and half-truths turning him into this figure shrouded in mystery and paranoia.
He can use that to his advantage.
He approaches the chaos, cigarette dangling from his lips, thumbs hooked through his belt loops. Itâs not really intimidating, he looks like a fake cowboy from the westerns his dad used to watch with the volume turned up too loud to drown out the sound of some other violence, but to a bunch of freshmen, it will do.
âThe hellâs going on over here?â
They clearly know who he is. Even here in their old home, the reputation of being Zombie boy number two followed him. Someone looked him up in the papers and found out some shit they werenât supposed to know. It makes it too easy.
One of the brats, not the one that has her hands on the girl, rebuts, âWe donât have to answer to you, freak.â
How original.
Billy rolls his eyes. Heâs too old for this.
Something those little shits arenât expecting is for him to flick his cigarette away, and blow the last of the smoke in one of their nasty faces. Itâs intimidation, itâs gross, itâs scandalous. The audacity!
The circle of them breaks into two halves, so he shoves past the stragglers to stand between them and El. She stands up behind him and turns the other way. Too embarrassed to even face the people who hurt her get put in their place. A little more fuel hits the rage fire burning in Billyâs brain.
They want a monster? A freak? Heâll give âem one.
First priority is giving the girl something to cover up with. He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it down beside her to take when she wants it. She grabs it immediately and wraps it around herself, looking the most like a scared kid heâs ever seen her. Thatâs saying a lot.
Thereâs scars all over him. His arms, his chest, his face. Doctors did a number on him trying to fix what the shadow did. Heâs weak. He hurts.
But these shitty kids donât need to know that. All they need to know is that heâs got a past, and the nasty red and white bumps to prove it.
They look set off just from him removing his jacket. This is going to be easy.
âYou know, in my last town. Population went down by a couple digits âfore I left. Shouldnât be too hard to catch up now. Just need a match and a bottle of something strong. Iâll make quick work of it.â
Almost word for word what the tabloid papers said. He laughs bitterly at his own words.
âThatâs all just a bunch of rumors though.â
Youâd think nobody ever stood up to them before. Staring at him like a bunch of damn fish gasping for a last breath. Sheltered little fucks never had to deal with consequences. It gives Billy an idea.
Heâs still no saint. Might as well use up that bitter rage pooling in his chest just waiting for a lit match to hit and engulf him in it again.
So he takes it up one more notch. Billy haunches over, so they seem smaller and he seems more capable of doing anything other than posing in a certain unsettling way.
Heâs right in the face of the ringleader, watching her cocky confidence drain away into concern. Fear.
Heâll entertain that, âDonât you want to know how I got my scars?â
âIt was from a fire.â The preppy blonde chick doesnât seem so brave now, suggesting that answer skeptically.
Billy laughs at her, for dramatic effect. Heâs still got too much shit to work through about Starcourt to actually feel anything though. âNo, thatâs what they said.â
Angela, or whatever her name is, seems to get what he means. She also seems about five seconds away from pissing her pants in fear. Good.
These kids can assault girls they barely know, but canât stand a little ghost story. Serves them damn right.
âJust remember that. If I ever see you kids near Jane again, there might just be a new rumor in our very own Lenora hills.â Billy threatens, letting his voice drop as rough and mean as he can.
âTheyâll say it was a fire, alright. An accident. Just. Like. Last time.â
Maybe he meant that a little too much.
Maybe he still blames himself.
Maybe he had to save the girl again. To prove something to himself.
Before it becomes too real, he tells them, âGo.â
Worse than Hawkins, they run. Scattered across the flat parking lot like pillars of an overarching shadow. Billy feels sick.
After the last of them are out of his sight, He finally turns his attention to the little girl. Call it a favor for saving his life. Not that heâd need a reason. The poor girlâs been through a lot, but nothing like this. She looks so scared it makes him want to tear all those shitty little bastards apart.
Eyes still fixed to the front, Billy asks her, carrying too much tension and hurt in his voice for his own good, âYou alright back there?â
She picks up her bag, the few things that spilled from it, and declares, like sheâs unfazed, âYes.â
Billy knows what thatâs like. Pretending to be strong. He knows she knows too. He canât pretend heâs not worried about the kid, after everything.
âThey didnât hurt you or anythinâ? âCause I could chase âem down and show them a thing or two about karma.â He offers. Sheâs seen the things he can do in his head, so sheâll know he means it.
The kid must be better than he is though, because she just shakes her head, highlighting the fact that those assholes roughed up her hair into tangles.
âNo. Just.. upset.â
Billy takes her word for it. Heâs distanced himself since July. Thereâs no need to push it. âI hear you. Your brother drive you today?â
âHeâs at home ill. Will and me are going to ride on the bus.â She explains it so carefully, like thatâs the right answer. Those assholes will be on the bus though. Heâs not leaving two kids to fend for themselves out there.
He shakes his keys, and acts casual about it. Whether itâs to act cool or just to make sure he doesnât upset El more, heâs not sure yet, but he does know heâs going to do the right thing, âCome on. Iâll give you shits a ride then.â
Billy lets her go at her pace. Heâs on guard already, sheâll be safe behind her while they walk back to his car.
Max already made it there, the Byers kid is with her too, probably looking for his sister. Billy almost feels bad to step out of the way and let them see the shape sheâs in.
The second they see El, her face red with tears, her hair in knots and wearing Billyâs jacket, Max gasps, rushing to her side across the space thatâs left between them. She touches her face, looking her over, âOh my god, El! What happened?â
Billy remembers when Max was rushing to him like that, screaming his name as his whole world went black. He shivers, and leans against his Firebird, the replacement for his Camaro.
âI-â El opens her mouth to explain, but she shakes her head. All the emotions hit her all over again and sheâs overwhelmed.
She looks to Billy. Those watery brown puppy dog eyes tell him everything he needs to know. He gets it, but he doesnât understand, âYou want me to tell them?â
El nods, and hides her face in his sister's shoulder. Great.
That means itâs up to him now.
âSome bratty blond and her crew were harassing her. Just some asshole bullies. They wonât do it again though.â
Maxâs face falls. To clarify, she hadnât told him about the bullies necessarily. He overheard through conversations with Joyce and phone calls to Maxâs mom. Itâs none of his business.
He has legal custody though, so. Heâll listen as carefully as he can without invading her little world. Itâs the best he can do when she barely talks to him anymore.
Her tone sounds almost panicked, as she holds Els' shoulders and scans her over, one, twice. Just to make sure sheâs real. All these kids have been through too damn much. Makes Billyâs mouth taste more bitter than the cigarettes he burned through on the way here.
âWhat did they do to her?â
âWere assholes. But I took care of it, alright?â Billy answers shortly, not in the chatting mood, but Max presses on with her questions.
âWas it Angela?â
Billy gets it, her concern. Sheâs still a shitbird though, and heâs still an asshole. Or heâs just trying to protect El, âHell if I know. She was a coward and a bitch, if that helps.â
âYeah, that sounds like her..â Max rolls her eyes at Billyâs lack of helpfulness and turns back to her friend, âAre you okay El?â
Finally a question that isnât for Billy, like he ever knew a damn thing about these kids and caring about people and shit. Heâll say thatâs not why he did it. He doesnât care. Heâs just doing the right thing. To serve himself and earn his place somewhere other than in the dirt with the shadows in his head.
It wouldnât be true, but heâd say it, if somebody cared to ask.
El stays quiet, but she nods again. Thatâs their cue to pile into the Firebird, the girls first so they can take up the backseat.
Nobody talks. They hadnât pretended to like Billy since he was giving rides to the arcade. Itâs a tense ride, but itâs also one which lasts twenty minutes; Max caves after three and a half.
âThanks for helping her. I guess.â
Billy scoffs, annoyed that sheâs still so weird around him more than anything, âWhat was I sâposed to do, leave her there? Iâm an asshole, but Iâm not evil.â
âCouldâve fooled me.â Max grumbles under her breath.
Billyâs instinct is to snap at her, like a hurt animal, âWatch your mouth.â
âIâm just joking, god.â She doesnât back down like she used to. She doesnât let him bother her at all.
Max smiles, and she holds her friend's hand, rests it on her lap in a gesture thatâs certainly more than friendly, âAll that matters is that El is okay.â
Billyâs aware that his sister is bad at self-preservation and worse at social cues, but sheâs got to know better than this. Schmoozing it up in front of just anybody. The Byers kid is right there. Just being in the same car as that is making his anxiety spike.
Because Billy can see it for what it is, and he glares at her in the rearview mirror, before looking at the kid in his passenger seat and back at the girls, âDidnât even know you and the Hopper girl were that close, Maxine.â
How could the shitbird forget all he went through when he was caught the same way with his âfriend?â How could she, when sheâs the one who told? He thought they were over that.
Max agrees, because she rolls her eyes hard. Apparently heâs out of the loop, âWill knows, Billy.â
âOh.â Right. Fourteen years old is too old to come to him with dating shit anymore apparently. Heâs not sure if thatâs a relief or not.
âHow come I didnât know?â
âYou donât have to know all my business.â
âWhen youâre getting bullied, I kinda do.â
Max hesitates. He knows as well as she does how hard it is to admit that. Took him eighteen years to tell anybody about the bully that was Neil Hargrove. But she doesnât let it get to her the same way he always had.
Good.
Max argues, âWell nobody else knows, so.. Itâs fine.â
Despite himself, Billy decides to argue back. Just like old times, âIs it? After what just happened, donât need to give the bullies more fuel.â
Shouldnât have tried to keep up the tradition. Just like old times, Max knows exactly how to cut into his soul.
âIâm not going to change just because someone might be mean to me for something I am.â
She wants to play that way, heâll give her a reality check. Joyce would kill him if he sped up the car with her kids in it, so he settles for raising his voice, âItâs not a fucking question Max! Itâs a goddamn reality.
Before she can argue, El interrupts, in a voice thatâs controlled and even, powerful but quiet. âFriends donât lie.â
The anger melts away instantly. Reveals the frozen, unstable version of himself at his core. âWhoâs lying?â
He canât hide from the girl whoâs been in his head, âYou lie. Youâre hiding a friend.â
Nobody says a word for the rest of the drive. Billyâs too busy turning shit over in his head. About Max having a girlfriend. About having an ex-boyfriend he left behind in Hawkins.
About wishing he was as confident as his sister to make a big move before it was too late and heâs already sacrificed their relationship.
Maybe thatâs why he intervened today. To fill some part of himself thatâs been empty since he had to leave his love behind. A different kind of love.
Nope. Not him. Not Billy Hargrove, covered in scars. He doesnât get love.
âAlright you shits, outta my car.â
Billy pulled into their own driveway. Heâs not risking getting caught up by Joyce again when their houses are so close. They can walk the distance between.
⌠As long as theyâre close enough that Billy can keep an eye on them.
As theyâre climbing out, he promises gruffly, âNext time, Iâm charging you nerds a fee.â
âFee?â El tilts her head, sometimes he forgets how little the poor girl knows.
She and him both. It always feels like heâs doing something wrong with these kids. With himself. His mind was split in two, along with his body, and now he canât make it up.
Max glares daggers at him, at the same time tucking a messy strand of Els's hair away behind her ear. Too gentle for a little brat. Shitbirdâs growing up.
They all are.
âDonât worry about it. Heâs just being a stupid boy.â In simply put terms, El understands. She laughs, and Billy maybe gets why heâs doing all this. Maybe, feels a little less like a monster, when heâs looking out for his two little sisters.
He stares at the ground, doesnât see it when Max pulls her into a full hug and kisses her cheek, âIâll see you guys later. Bye El.â
Heâs not worried about them yet. Theyâve missed out on being kids. Theyâve seen the worst of what happens when you grow up when they saw him get basically torn in half. Itâs harmless puppy love, just the kind of thing he never got to experience, and would never think to take away from Max.
One thing about Max, she still isnât much better at realizing all the shit Billy does for her. Itâs not the life she wanted. How can he be mad at her for that when he lashed out for a whole year about the same?
Maybe itâs not just intuition though that tells Billy he said something wrong.
Max avoids him for the rest of the day. Itâs not until way after the sun goes down and theyâre both waiting for the right time to take their pills and get the hell to sleep that he decides to bring it up.
Sheâs curled up in the corner of the couch, the opposite side of the rickety chair he sits in. She doesnât look up at first when he speaks.
âKinda distant there, shitbird.â
âWow. I wonder why that could be.â Every word of Maxâs drips with sarcasm.
Billy rolls his eyes at her. Maybe he should be a better example.
âWhatâd I even do? Thought youâd be grateful I helped your girlfriend.â
âI can be grateful and also be pissed that youâre mean to them. Iâm multifaceted like that.â Okay, she definitely didnât know that word before she started hanging out with her dorks. The influence isnât all his.
Heâll fight back, but heâll go easy about it. Let some of the thought process out into the open air, âYeah, and I can make fun of my sister's friends and want to help someone getting bullied too.â
Finally, finally, that gets her to talk to him, âYouâve always been the bully. You never cared before. You only helped El because you thought it would make me like you more.â
Ironic that itâs all bullshit coming out of her mouth.
âSays who? I donât give a shit what you think, this is between me and the universe.â Billy tries not to make this too deep, but it is. This is eight years of conversations they havenât had yet forced into one scapegoat topic, âIâm making up for what I did, and you can hate me for all time, but my karma is evening out.â
âWhatâs that even mean?â Sheâs not sarcastic. Sheâs curious. Letting him in.
Heâll let her see the things her girlfriend saw last year. Forge the brother and sister bond theyâd never quite mastered between them, but had come so easy with El.
Billyâs not a hero.
âMeans I almost died. But I didnât. And now Iâm using my second chance for good.â Heâs a human. Heâs her brother. Heâs crying, just a little, âIâm still not very good at this whole, being nice thing.â
Max shrugs, and she laughs. A wet sounding laugh. Sheâs crying too, âYeah. Me neither.â
It sits, but thereâs no tension. Just coexisting. Their thoughts fill the silence, but the few things they said provoke it. Itâs not a quiet silence, and thatâs alright. Theyâre alright. Everythingâs alright now.
âGuess we got a long way to go, shitbird.â
âNot.. that long though. Right?â
Billy just shrugs, so Max takes that as her invitation to let go of the serious stuff.
She waggles her eyebrows, nosy little sister shit she hasnât done since she was fresh out of elementary, âSoooo. El said you had somebody?â
âDonât even start.â Billy complains, covering his face with his hands.
But heâs happy.
In California, Billy lives alone with Max and hides from the world.
In California, Billy learns how to smile again.
#billy hargrove#billy & max#billy & el#đš x 011#gay sibling bonding shit#ej writer#my writing#please heed the warnings#raven I know I changed it up a bit but I just ran a little wild#sorry bestie I hope you like it!!#Iâm scared to tag properly đŠ
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