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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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master list

Eddie x fem! reader

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNINGS ⚠️

Absolutely no minors, gtfo. Hopefully everyone has read the warning post from earlier this week regarding this chapter. it is extremely dark themed.

Heavy violence

References to past rape/ assault

Blood, gore

Domestic violence

Somnaphilia

Character death etc

A/N: please know your limits. I love you and let’s get into this chapter so we can move on.

The brown popcorn bag spun lazily in the microwave like an oily inflating balloon. The steady hum of the appliance kept you company as the countdown to the sad supper ticked to an end. The cheerful ding springing you from the staring contest you were having with the counter top.

The small radio you had purchased was sitting on the counter, the soft belt of Linger by The Cranberries was playing for what seemed like the tenth time today and you couldn’t help but feel the lyrics in your blood.

Unaware of anything out of the ordinary. A typical night after working at the bar. Showering and throwing on a pair of pajama shorts, tucked next to the pair of Eddie’s boxer briefs you had found last week.

After investigating why the washer banged all to hell when even the smallest of loads were in it, wedged tight under the plastic agitator were his underwear.

And you’d be a fool to say you hadn’t broken down and sobbed in the basement on the discovery.

You dried them and folded them neatly next to your delicates. The same drawer that held the worn and tarnished pig ring he gave you as a Christmas gift, and the envelope full of cash.

The water works started again.

Hot tears flooding your eyes, the simple act made you feel like he was home with you. But the nightmare always continued.

You missed him so much.

“But you always really knew

I just want to be with you

If you were a tiny bit more awake you might have caught that the door to the garage was locked even though you had no memory of locking it yourself.

..And I'm in so deep

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

Rustling the steaming bag from the microwave with burnt finger tips, you toss it on the counter hastily. Sucking your fingers into your mouth to dull the stinging redness away.

Do you have to let it linger?

And maybe it was then that if you weren’t busy nursing the premature burns, you would have noticed the odd set of keys on the counter next to the mail, pushed to the side by the buttery bag of popcorn.

Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?

Bending at the waist to the lower cabinet you reach around for the smooth plastic of the yellow popcorn bowl. Upon standing you feel dizzy. You hear it before you feel it, the loud thwap of something heavy against the back of your head. The pain is searing and turns your vision to black. You’re passed out before your head even hits the floor.

(1987)

The November air whipped into reddened skin, striking out any heat you had left in the confinements of the peach sweater you borrowed from Nancy on your frozen walk to Forest Hills Trailer Park.

It happened again.

And this time it wasn’t an accident, no matter how much he begged, no matter how many times he said he was sorry.

He hit you with a closed fist.

You weren’t flirting with Dustin. He was your friend. Way before Chad had taken any interest in you. Most of your friends were guys, besides El and Max, and even though Nancy Wheeler was older and more popular— you considered her a friend too.

When she left for college this past fall, she insisted on making her room more stylish to your liking. And she never once minded the twin beds you both slept in, a night stand between them.

But when Mike sat next to you at lunch and was going over notes from Kensington’s class, Chad’s mind twisted it into Mike hitting on you. Which led to Chad hitting on you, but instead of compliments and doting behavior— he drug you out to his car, a bony grip on the back of your neck.

He screamed at you with every vein protruding from his tan skin. Voice hoarse and throat stretched tight.

Apparently you were fucking people behind his back. Even though you were a virgin. The town whore! He had yelled loud for even some of the teachers to hear, all turning a blind eye to the obvious domestic abuse happening on school grounds.

Explaining yourself only made it worse.

He slapped your face hard when you opened your mouth to interrupt him. And when you stood your ground and raised your chin to him, calm and steadily telling him to go fuck himself, he swung a fist into your eye.

And that’s when you left.

His apologies trailing behind you and caught in the gut of wind to travel far away from your ears. He wouldn’t follow you, he had appearances at school to keep up.

Much easier to tell Aaron and Sean that you got your period and were being crazy then explain why he had left school.

The gravel crunched beneath your feet, frozen from the last winter storm and holding pockets of ice amongst the rocks.

Pale blue and still holding the old television lawn ornament, you sighed audible when Eddie’s van was parked outside of the aluminum sided trailer.

You hadn’t seen him since graduation last May. The night Chrissy’s extra curricular activities with Rick finally came out when they were caught fucking in the shower upstairs, at Steve’s house. Both sporting pricked arms with needle marks.

A broken hearted Eddie drank all night long and puked into the hot tub.

Your quickened steps up to the concrete stairs and a shaky broken knock on the screen door have you stepping back waiting for the door to open, awaiting Eddie’s stupid grin waiting on the other side.

Living with Eddie you had no reason to be afraid. Many nights the front door was left unlocked. And maybe it was out of habit. Maybe you had left it unlatched tonight too.

It would explain how he was there now.

Hovering over you, his blond hair coined perfectly slicked to the side, slightly feathered back with thick styling gel. A Ralph Lauren polo with the logo on the left chest. His cologne reeked of some designer brand, making your stomach queasy.

The only difference between those years ago and now was that he had a small dusting of a flesh colored mustache wiggled on his sweaty lip. Same maniacal inky blacks to his blown pupils, laced with the piercing blue.

The realization ices your veins and stings your eyes with angry tears.

Chad Cunningham was in your home, his body over yours as you're pinned beneath him, the smell of iron invading your nose. Looking around with wild eyes you see the crimson streaks from the linoleum in the kitchen to the carpet where you are laying. Your head thumping with the rhythm of bloody drops against the fibers of the worm carpet.

“Been a long time hasn’t it, honey bun?”

An eternity wouldn’t have been enough.

Pressing his body into yours, you can feel the stiffness of his starched shirt as you try to will your arms to fight him away. He chuckles at your feeble attempts to push him off.

His weight presses deeper into you as he lowers his mouth to your lips, squeezing your face he almost sings, “Told you I’d see you soon.”

His lips are harshly planted into yours, feeling like jagged rocks against your soft waters.

“Fuck,” he groans, hard against your thigh. “just like I remember. I’ve missed you.”

The clink of his belt unthreading from the loops of his khakis finally renders your senses. But you wait with calculated timing.

Leaning back, he stares into your face with a quizzical expression burrowed deep on his brow. “What’s the frown for? Don’t you miss me? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Evident that his delusions still ran deep, it’s showtime. You would survive this. One good hit, that's all it would take.

Pushing yourself up gently, your head is swimming with nausea and the steady dripping tick of blood down the back of your neck.

Placing a shaky hand to his cheek he moves into your hand, the same way Eddie had that night, your stomach somersaults at the memory.

When his eyes shut, you turn your fingers into a clawed position, and scrape the flesh from the corner of his eye down to his lip.

It happens quickly and with your blurred vision and pounding head it feels like it’s all in slow motion. He wasn’t expecting it.

A kick to his ribs hurt your bare feet probably more than it injured him but you needed the extra time to escape into your room.

The phone feels cool against your cheek, and weighs heavy on your shoulder when you realize it’s dead. The plan of you running in here, dialing 9-1-1 and holding him off until they came was foiled.

“BITCH! You can’t hide from me!”

Knowing you only have seconds before he finds you, you

frantically look around for something to defend yourself with. Searching eyes land on the window.

Just need to get out and run to Mr. Griffin’s house.

Fingers on the frame you yank upwards, palms digging into the wired screen, pushing it out.

Throwing your leg out into the darkness of the night, you’re one step closer to being safe. One step closer to ending this night of horrors before it could begin.

The noise of splintering wood and the crack of a door being snapped from its hinges join your erratic breath and piercing screams— a monstrous reel of symphonic sound.

Chad twists a thick fist into your scalp, freeing the hair from its follicles in a sickening pop as you scratch your nails into the window sill, trying to hold on.

He’s stronger than you, no different than years before. And when your body crumbles onto the floor with a squelching thud, splinters of lacquered wood and nails that once held the door in place, pierce into your exposed skin.

But that is minor league compared to the shattering pain delivered from his fist into your face as he straddles you.

“Think you can hide away with that freak from me?!” He rocks his closed hand into your other cheek, this time clipping your eye with a gold wedding band.

Your cries fall on deaf ears. Tears stinging and trying to drip from your swelling eyelids.

“Honey bun,” he purrs into your ear, “don’t tell me you’re that fucking stupid to think I wouldn’t find you.”

His fingers move to brush your hair from your face, and he holds your head in place when you try to bite at his fingers.

His wicked smile could make the devil’s scaly skin crawl.

“Such a dumb whore, forgetting I have eyes and ears all over this town.” Placing his grabby fingers on his breasts, he continues, “Aaron and Sean may not be the brightest candles on the cake but they are loyal.”

Aaron…Sean.

You rack your brain for any recollection of those names. and it finally clicks. Chad’s friends in high school, following him around like he was the King. A snap of his fingers and they’d move like henchmen. Fighting anyone who got in his way, putting themselves at risk just to say they had a friend from a rich family.

The realization swims in your eyes and scares your tears dry.

“No.”

“Pieced it together huh?” Chad laughs wildly. “They work..” he grunts, hips rutting against you, pinching your perked nipples in his tight grasp, his fingernails digging through your shirt around the delicate skin, making you squeal, “..with the freak!”

His deranged cackle doubles when you yell out in pain.

“Small town bosses don’t lock their offices, and it was too easy for Aaron to find your address, even easier to find out that Eddie had left your ass here, unguarded, alone, waiting for someone to save you, and honey bun here I am!”

His sick twisted smile oozes fear further into your gut, brooding and feeding on any small amount of joy you had left.

“You need a fucking psychiatrist.”

“Such harsh words for that sweet mouth, but don’t worry!” he reassures, eyes wide with delight and a psychotic expression on his face as he brings his voice low and secret-like, “I won’t kill you yet, the boys are looking for Munson and when they find him…” he lowers himself to kiss your lips, sliding his tongue against the split flesh.

“Fuck!” He bellows, licking his lips savoring your taste on his tongue, “when they find him they’re gonna bring him here, and it’ll be arranged to look like the freak killed you and then himself.. a lover’s quarrel gone bad.”

He rubs his face and grunts again at the warbled wails you let out, squeezing your breasts and bucking into your clothed crotch. “Goddamn,” he groans, his eyes rolling into his head at the sound of your cries, getting off on your distorted face, “I just couldn’t help myself, had to come here and do this first. One last goodbye.”

You’d rather be dead at this point. You wish he’d kill you now and get it over with. But the thought of Eddie seeing your lifeless body haunted you. And you stop crying when his hands close around the hollow of your throat.

“Gonna be mine, one last time honeybun?”

“Fuck you,” you croak beneath his hands on your throat.

You’re weak and running out of time. Rolling your tongue against your teeth and cheeks, harboring a mixture of saliva and blood you wait until Chad is leaning over you, and when he’s close enough you spit the concoction into his face.

Chad bellers out, letting go of your throat and standing abruptly to wipe his face. The split second he’s distracted you try to crawl away, but he kicks you down.

Delivering several soccer styled strikes into your stomach, his voice spewing insults with every jab of his white Nikes into your body.

A raging shock of fury paints his face.

“What did I tell you hmm? If I can’t have you— no one can!” You scream loud when his shoe propels into your crotch, shocking your pelvis with burning heat.

All noise is void when he rolls you over and crashes down on your beaten body, clobbering your tear and blood streaked face, blow after blow. Your eyes are swelling shut and you’re surprised when you see Eddie’s face, before your eyes shut.

It feels like home.

-1987-

The warm smile you missed so much was not there to greet you. A cold calloused “what?” finds you instead.

“Eddie?” you ask with a scratchy throat, clearing it once, twice, to answer him against the wind.

Grumbling and stomping in the trailer is heard. Along with two separate giggles.

The door is yanked hard inward revealing a version of Eddie Munson you’d never seen before. His skin was sunken in on his cheeks, dark circles rimmed his eyes. His once soft features were sharp and lackluster, brooding with ashy shadows and skin that looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight in months.

He looked gaunt and hallowed out, his ribs poking against the cindery color of his skin. The warm whiskey eyes that once danced when he laughed were now gaping blacked marbled, polar and dull.

He speaks but you are too busy holding your breath from the stench of rotting clothes and unwashed bodies.

Stumbling over an apology for not hearing him, you are startled when he barks back, “I said, what the fuck are you doing here, Tooty?”

You look to the floor and notice he’s wearing a heavily stained sock with a hole in the toe, the other foot bare, next to a pair of work boots are three pairs of women’s shoes:, heels, keds, and pink reeboks. Your toes wiggle in your worn converse.

“I’m.. I uh..”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “oh for fucks sake spit it out! You selling raffle tickets or something for school? Pep team need new Pom-poms? Or maybe the chess club is looking for a new board?”

Shock stealing your speech you stand on frigid feet digging your fingers into the yarn on the Nancy’s sweater. Tears bite your lashes and fall on cold cheeks.

Eddie! Where’s your lighter? A sultry voice coos, padding feet getting closer to the threshold.

“Listen kid, I’m fucking busy, I don’t have time to haul you around because twiddle dick and dum forgot you at the gas station again.”

He has barely looked at you since you got there. The guy who held more merit to you than your own brother was gone.

When you wipe your eyes on the sleeve of your sweater he lets out an exaggerated groan.

He thrusts dirty fingers into his sweatpants pockets. Pulling out a perfectly rolled twenty dollar bill, he flattens it smooth. He smears his finger along the length of the bill, collecting remnants of a fine white powder, which is quickly shoved into his greedy mouth and rubbed on his gums like he’s brushing his teeth.

“Here,” he grunts, shoving the drugged money into your pocket, avoiding your eyes at all cost, “now get lost.”

The blinds on the door are still swinging as you stand there dumbstruck and watery eyed. Low voices are murmured through the thin walls as a lighter flicks and sizzles.

Who was that baby?

Nobody.

And that’s exactly who you were to everyone you knew, nobody.

And ironically enough— that’s exactly who you could rely on.

One thing was for certain: Eddie Munson was a stranger to you.

The tears fell harder on the shameful walk back to Chad. But you weren’t sure if you were crying harder because of the sudden loss you felt from an old friend or because of the pain in your eye.

Heart hammering in his chest, Eddie jiggles the door handle, it’s locked and he panics and realizes he still has his key. Fumbling with the key ring, Eddie finds the short brass one and unlocks the door.

The sight of the mostly empty house is jarring, causing his stomach to drop , a small recliner rests in the living room where his couch once sat. Wine is spilled from the kitchen to the living room, smeared like it was swept poorly with a mop.

You never drank wine.

Maybe you started drinking heavily after he left. He did. It only made sense.

But a second glance at the claret colored stain embedded into the carpet and his worst fear was realized.

Blood.

The sound of something wet and thwacking settles into his bones and shakes his spine. Someone was hurting you.

Heavy docs lead him to the corner of the house, your room and his old room. Where his door was intact, yours was shattered. Like Jack Torrance took his ax to it in The Shining. Stepping on cracked wood, Eddie sees the most horrific thing he’s ever been a witness too.

And suddenly he’s six years old again, helpless. Watching a woman he loved lose a battle she didn’t even know she was in. But instead of his mother’s lifeless body crumbled by his father’s feet, instead of her dark curly hair matted with pooling blood and a gaping bullet hole— It’s you underneath a guy he doesn’t recognize.

Your face is battered and covered in blood, the once plush lips he held so warmly between his own were split and slack. Your eyes were swollen, lacking any shine to them they normally held.

His eyes connect with yours for a brief second, and when they close he doesn’t know if they will open again.

Fury radiates through his entire body, masking the pain of heartache at the sight of you slipping from him.

Before he can acknowledge the thought of you being gone, he lunges at the catalog Dad dressed asshole. Knocking him off your body and landing on top of him, colliding into your dresser. The tangle of body parts wrestling for purchase tumble into the hall. Ringed fists land home on every surface of this guy's face, and when he stops to take a breath— he realizes the face he is hitting is Chad Cunningham’s.

How did he find you? Had he been stalking you both since that day at the grocery store?

Didn’t matter all that he cared about was throwing this mother fucker the biggest ass kicking of his life, and he wouldn’t stop until either Chad or himself was dead.

“I’ve waited years for this day,” Chad spit, after getting a punch in when Eddie was in his own head, knocking Eddie’s jaw to bite down on his tongue, filling his mouth with blood immediately. “Trailer trash Munson finally came to play.”

Taken by surprise, Chad shoves Eddie from him and stands up, looking through the doorway at your limp body.

Eddie stands slow, using the bathroom doorknob to help, he reaches for the knife kept in his back pocket.

Chad spins to face Eddie, his hair sweaty and face ballooning out from Eddie’s rings. “You should have left my girl alone Munson, would have saved your uncle the heartache.”

Eddie flicks the blade open on the knife, grip tight around it, he breathes through his nose his throat tight and stretching around his words, his leather jacket creaking when he moves his neck around in a stretch, confident in his delivery, “she’s not yours.”

The hysterical laugh that leaves Chad’s lungs could resemble bats screeching in the night, he’d make a great clown in a haunted house.

“Dead or alive whether I’m married or not— she’ll always be mine.”

Like alley cats, they stare each other down, waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

Chad licks his lips and looks your way again, “listen, I get it, she’s hot. And that tight little pussy..” he licks his lips and grabs himself over his denim jeans, stained with your blood.

Eddie’s blood is boiling, he’s seconds away from snapping but trying to hold it together long enough to make a perfect attack.

Chad leans forward, gesturing a mockery secret with his hand held around his mouth, “It’s even better when she’s fighting you,” he inhales deep, like he’s wishing he was in a past memory, “screaming really tightens her right up.”

Knife out, Eddie charges forward. And is struck dumb when the knife is kicked from his hand. Another kick this time to the chest that he wasn’t expecting sends him stumbling into the living room, air gone from his lungs. Chad follows and swings into his diaphragm making Eddie choke out on nothing, gasping for air.

“Oh come on, Munson,” Chad taunted, leaning down to kiss Eddie’s cheek, “Thought you would have some trailer park moves to throw at me.”

Raising a heavy boot, Eddie stomps on Chad’s toes, and mule kicks his kneecaps. A ringed fist meets his cheek, adding another forming bruise to his winter tan skin. Shoving him backwards into the counter in the kitchen, the cabinet doors bust on the impact.

The punches Eddie is landing have his knuckles bloody and swelling but he doesn’t care. Each punch is a testament for the years you held yourself together, acted like nothing bad was going on, when in reality you were experiencing hell on Earth and he never knew.

This was his payback. His way of righting a wrong. A wrong that should have never even began.

He doesn’t know what he was hit with just that he was stumbling backwards again. Temple throbbing and without reaching up he knows he’s bleeding. His back hitting the corner of the fridge he slides down onto the linoleum.

His head is heavy and his vision blinded with hazy clouds of black and white. He hears Chad but doesn’t see him, just feels his head being slammed in the fridge and a grip in his hair.

“Could have saved your uncle funeral costs you stupid bastard… clearly you don’t care about him, or Tooty for that matter, leaving her all alone like that,” Chad sucks through his teeth, splitting blood onto Eddie’s shirt, “thought the raccoons usually stuck together.”

He chuckles low and slams Eddie’s head one more time with such force it leaves a dent in the fridge. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he says, straightening his shirt, walking towards your room , “my girl is waiting.”

“Don’t touch her!” Eddie roars, pushing himself up to stand with all his might. Pounding head and nausea thick in his mouth. Raising his head he looks at Chad with blurry sight, trying to see clearly. His voice is low, catching his breath and taking all of his strength to utter out the words. Balancing around the mark of deranged, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

Chad swivels on his heels, head cocked at Eddie, he grabs under his chin holding it firmly in place. His breath fanning over Eddie’s cheeks and he smiles maniacally, blood painting his teeth.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” A heavy fist to the gut has Eddie doubled over. Gripping the counter with white knuckles and wet blood smeared fingertips.

He had failed again. He wasn’t able to stop his own father from killing his mother. And now Chad was on his way to desecrate your lifeless body. He’s a fuck up and a failure.

Always.

A low guttural choking sound breeches Eddie’s ears. And he turns to see you covered in your own blood, barely standing and wielding a bat with nails protruding from every which way.

The nails are claret colored and dripping thick drops onto the carpet, fibers of Chad’s jeans hang in shreds from the sharp edges. A scant look towards Eddie and your eyes swim with relief and mourning.

He’s here. Blood is smeared down his lips and his hands look tight and swollen.

But he’s alive. And so are you.

Eddie’s vision is doubled and he blinks rapidly unaware if he is seeing you or not. He swallows hard and almost chokes on tears.

But that is short lived.

And it happens fast.

The yelling rage from Chad’s lungs over power your screams. His hands are tight around your throat before you can blink, your spine snapping into the nearest wall, feet dangling off the ground.

Haziness bleeds into your eyes and your breath is expelled from screaming— now gone when your windpipe is crushing like a pixie stick under Chad’s grip.

Desperate to fight back you jam your thumbs into his eyes. Victor Creel style like the Urban Legends passed down that you were told as kids.

If you were going to die, at least he would be blind, a forever reminder of this day etched, literally, into his face.

You prayed Eddie would know how much you loved him.

Should have’s taking over the last puffs of oxygen in your brain, popping like bubbles.

Should have told him sooner.

Should have said it every day.

Should have kissed him more.

Should have let him love you.

The guilt wraps around your mind as the cold hands of death welcome you. But you’re not afraid. Knowing Chad always kept good on his word, Eddie would join you in the afterlife.

Hand in hand.

Strolling along the pinked cotton candy clouds and the pearly gates.

You are his and he is yours.

Lovers together finally at last.

The last breath on your lips is a silent devotion to him.

I love you, Eddie.

a/n: my asks are always open ♥️

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #fic recs #eddie munson angst #stranger things

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kotton-kandy953 · 2 months

Text

━ 𝙳𝙾𝚄𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙱𝙻𝙴

➛ yandere!tokito twins x fem!reader

❝ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʜɪᴍ ❞

╰⋯➤ 𝕴𝖓 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖍,

two lovesick twins both have their eyes on a particular female student at Kimetsu Academy.

The previously mentioned new kids, Yuichiro and Muichiro Tokito, are - unsurprisingly - already popular among the other students attending the High School due to their looks and attractive personalities.

Being the high school sweethearts' makes both of their plan's to be Y/n's one and only 100x harder.

But will they preserve and finally take what’s rightfully theirs?

╰⋯➤ INFO ᡣ𐭩

Kimetsu Academy AU

The twins are aged up to 16

Song lyrics: Boyfriend- Dove Cameron

╰⋯➤ WARNINGS ᡣ𐭩

Death

Depictions of blood/gore

Obsessive behavior

Stalking

Violence

Yandere themes

╰⋯➤ TABLE OF CONTENTS ᡣ𐭩

𝐈 - 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 ?

𝐈𝐈 - 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 ?

𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐘 ?

𝐈𝐕 - 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 ?

𝐕 - 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 ?

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romana-after-dark · 2 months

Text

Room's on Fire: So Afraid

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna learns her power.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: I dont wanna spoint things so just proceed with caution. DM me if you'd like specifics before reading. I dont think its as bad as other things but.... you'll see

3.1k words (so sorry)

Support artists, like and reblog!

BTW if you dont read the lyrics usually i feel it really hits hard this time

I been alone All the years So many ways to count the tears I never change I never will I'm so afraid the way I feel Days when the rain and the sun are gone Black as night Agony's torn at my heart too long So afraid Slip and I fall and I die. ~ Go Insane, Fleetwood Mac

“He’s fucking unraveling.”

Ben is pacing inside the sanctuary, Will leaned against the wall listening to him rant. They were waiting for the others and Madonna, having to perform a healing ritual. As far as Will could tell, she was going to be okay outside the lasting scars and the mental terror, and she was past the point of miscarrying from the incident, but the people needed assurance. They needed to feel a part of something. The doors were opened other guard had seen what had happened, and from what he and Ben had heard from the rumblings of the people, they were nervous. Unsettled.

Will had to set the course straight, concocting a story of possession and torment by demons to explain Santi’s behaviors… which of course cleared Santi of responsibility but still left Delta scarred. He continued to listen to Ben’s rants.

“He’s gonna fuck it all up. Doesn’t he know more than anyone what we’re doing here? He could have killed the savior.”

“And Madonna.” Will reminds him, but Ben turns to glare at him.

“I’m aware of that. I’m aware of how important Madonna is, you don’t think I love her too? You don’t think I’ve spend every night in her bed-”

“Next to Frankie.”

Ben stopped, stepping forward and looking like he might start a fight. He was drunk, and when Ben was drunk he was either madly horny or ripe for anger fits. Will’d seen him kill a man with his bare hands at a orgy for kissing Frankie. Orgies were orgies, but Santi kept rules around Frankie, rules that had been enforced by Ben’s rage he pushed down below his crown of sunshine on his hair.

But then Frankie opened the door.

“Hey guys.” He walked in his formal wear, and Will had to admit he understood why everyone wanted a piece of him. His eyes were bright in the yellow light.

“Where’s Madonna?” Will asks.

“She’s finishing eating, Rey’s with her. I wanted to talk to you guys alone.”

Will nods.

Ben seems frustrated, crossing his arms in that pout he likes to do. ”I don’t like her alone with him.”

“He’s her personal guard, Benjamin. We have to trust him.”

He shakes his head. “We should rotate her guard so no one gets attached. You know how she breaks down everyones walls better than anyone, Frank.” There was a bit more bite than Frankie expected after the close nights they’d been spending in each other's arms next to Madonna, but when Ben was drinking it was always a bit of a guess.

“He’s her only friend. The first friend she’s had since we decided to set her dad on fire. I think we can allow her-”

“UUUUGGGHHHHHHHHH” Ben rolls his eyes and his whole head in annoyance. “Can’t she just be friends with Iris?”

Will spoke up now. “I think you ensured that won’t happen.”

“And you ensured she can’t trust Jonah” Frankie snapped, not sure why he was defending Ben. He didn’t know he did anything half the time.

Sighing, Will scrubbed his face and then held out his hands. “Both of you relax. I’ve got it taken care of. I doubt Rey has any interest in Madonna, but considering I don’t this Iris is putting out with him, we can’t be too sure. And considering what Pope did to her, we can’t have her falling into his arms. I’ve got it.”

Frankie nodded. “Rey doesn’t have eyes for anyone but Iris.”

Ben’s drunk anger shifted to his horny drunk. “To bad Madonna doesn’t have eyes for Iris.” He looked far away, smiling, no doubt thinking of their wife fucking the pretty cook. Will couldn’t deny she was beautiful… it was a wonder she was unclaimed by the time her punishment began.

A smack from Frabkie broke Ben out of his thoughts. “Ow!”

“You’re sick, you know that?”

“I can dream!”

Will was about to shout at them all to shut up when Pope opened the door. He wore a red tunic, reminding Will of pictures he’d seen of pentecost robes from the before. Not as tight as Frankie, but Frankie gained more weight in recent years.

“Gentlemen.” He greeted, eyes raking over Frankie’s form. “Are we ready?”

Everyone nodded, Frankie doing his best to hide the anger, the furry, the disgust he felt at Santi. He could hurt him, but how dare he hurt Madonna?

Will nodded over to the entry to the church. “Frank, Ben, start the prayers. We’ll come out in a bit when Madonna arrives.”

Pope narrowed his eyes, but told Ben and Frankie to go, watching Frankie’s ass as he walked through the curtains to the congregation.

“You couldn’t be more obvious, you know.”

He breaks Santi out of his lustful view.

“Hm?”

“Everyone knows you want Frankie more than anything. Can’t keep your eyes off him.”

Santi attempts to brush his concerns away with a whisk of his hand. “I love all my spouses.”

“You love Frankie.”

“I love him, Ben, you, Madonna.”

“You just want the savior-”

Rushing close to Will, Santi presses his chest against his lover and whispers in a harsh tone. “The savior is a part of her!”

Will grips his tunic, keeping them pulled close as he whispers in his ear. “You need. To calm. Down. Breaking her breaks the savior. Breaking her breaks the whole community. You are losing touch with reality and if you do not get. Your shit. Together. Everything will come crumbling down.” He pulls back just far rough to meet his eye and walks forward, backing Santi up until his ass hits the slab of marble they all deflowered their wife on. A faint trace of her blood remained.

Santi was panting, chest heaving and his cock rose in his robes. “Everything I do is for our community. Who do you think got her pregnant? We’re going to save this doomed earth, we’re bring The One Mighty and Strong to earth and Divine Mother will finally let us all be happy.”

“Santi…” Will caressed Santi’s face, enjoying how easily Santi submitted. Frankie was easy. Frankie melts at the simplest touch of anyone who shows him affection. Santi only submits to him. “You need to relax. She’s pregnant, and she’ll be okay. The savior is coming. You just need to-”

“Don’t tell me what to-” He begins to snap at Will, but before he can finish he’s turned around and bent over the altar. His tunic is being pulled up, and when his hands move to stop him, they are pinned down to the cold stone. “WHat are you doing?”

Spitting on his hole, Will lines his cock up at Santi’s ass and leans in. “You hurt Madonna. You need to learn a lesson.”

You enter at your cue, giving Rey’s hand a squeeze before he lets go to open the door. You hated this, you hated being out in public knowing everyone knew what was done to you. Will said Pope was possessed, that he was fighting a battle with the devil, spiritual warfare and he needed prayers, he needed your strength. You had to be strong for him. You forgave your husband and felt sympathy he was in so much pain… But why do you still want to recoil when he touches you? You were sleeping in your bed again, but one always accompanied you to help if the nightmares returned…. You never slept when it was Santi’s arms around you

Francisco and Ben were leading the congregation in prayers, praying for Pope’s strength in his battle and you prayed along, Francisco getting up to walk you down to the raised area. You remember, as you always did, walking down the aisle on your wedding day, unable to bare looking at them for too long, finding solace in Jonah’s eyes… Now he was talking nonsense, and you were worried about him.

The other day, early morning, you’d slipped out of Ben’s arms to find something to eat. Baby was kicking, apparently wanting sugar and you hoped Iris wasn’t up. Things were tense between you, and you could make your own pancakes. You had, of course, thanked her profusely for caring for you when… when it happened, genuinely grateful for the care she showed you… You wanted to be her friend again, god you really did, you wanted to go back to singing with Rey and her and Jonah in the kitchen… but something in the air had shifted.

Wish granted, Iris wasn’t there. Jonah was. He was drinking coffee, PJ pants slung low on his hips… No shirt. He had a lean body even at his age, hip bones prominent below the weak elastic and a trail of hair going down-

When the floor under you squeaks, Jonah stands up fully, shuffling to move behind the kitchen table. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be alone…”

“Baby wants pancakes.” You rub your stomach. He’s not looking at you. You make a move to the cabinets, But Jonah cuts off your path.

“I got it, you should rest.”

Your shoulders slump. “I’m not a baby, I’m just carrying one. Let me do it.”

Jonah shakes his head. “Please, just… let me.” He gives you a small smile. “I know you’re not a kid. They should all be afraid of you, Madonna.”

He made good pancakes.

Will and Pope returned from their prayers in the sanctuary, Pope looking… Off. He looked ruffled, confused, his eyes a little glassy… maybe Will exercised the demon out?

Pope began his prayers. “Our beloved Madonna, Holy and Beautiful, our maternal bride, has suffered pain and scarring from the demonic attacks of the devil, we must pray for heeling over her body.”

Will’s hands reach for the back of your dress, lowering the zipper when you gasp, jolting away and turning back to him. “What are you doing?!” You whisper, eyes watering with panic. Francisco mutters Will’s name, but he ignores him, opting to pull you close. He cups your face, whispering in your ear.

“They need to see the wounds, Madonna. They need to see you’re healing, they're worried.”

“But… I don’t wanna be naked, Will.” You turn to glance at the crowd, catching Pope glare. You shiver. “There’s people here who made fun of me…”

His fingers lay your hair down. “It’s just your dress, Madonna. Don’t worry, we’re right here. Trust me.”

Echoes of the past flitter in your head.

I’m going to touch you, just stand there and take it. Trust me.

Will unzipped your dress, the fabric pooling down around your ankles. Murmurs wave over your body, whispers from the people who loved you. Were they mocking you? Were they laughing?

Just down to her underwear, Francisco.

Your bandages were off, but the skin was marred horrifically. It was bad enough those in the back could see it spreading over your pregnant stomach. Were there jealous women in the crown? Your dorm mates that didn’t understand why you were chosen?

Will’s hands find the clasp of your bra, and you tense again. “Will?”

“Just relax, Madonna. Relax for me. Don’t worry.”

It’s just me, it’s just external, don’t worry.

When his hands went for your underwear, you didn’t protest.

You stood naked, your scared body on display for the whole congregation.

Your husbands stood at your side, each laying a hand on your stomach as the crowd began to pray. You felt like you were being punished, humiliated. What did you do wrong? Your lip quivers, panic rising in your chest again. No, no you would not melt down here. You see a woman who was particularly nasty to you… she tried to make you eat a worm because you didn’t say hi to her when you were 10 and she was 12… You were in one of your “no talking episodes” as your dad called them, the playground was too loud, your new bra you had to wear adding a sensation to your skin you hated… she took it personal, and tormented you for the next 12 years. She was smirking.

You feel Ben’s hand on your ass, coping a feel.

You think of Will’s lies.

You look at Santi, his eyes only on your stomach.

You look at Francisco, not saying the prayers and looking at Be’s hand on your ass.. Did you and the baby even matter to him? Why was he so disconnected?

You didn’t feel sad anymore.

You were angry.

“Kneel.”

Your voice, while quiet, makes the four of them turn to you, surprised by you. But no one moves.

“Kneel. If you’re praying for my healing, kneel.” You don’t look at them.

Santi speaks. “We don’t kneel to you, Madonna. You kneel to us.”

Your body wants to shake, you want to fold like you do every time a boundary is crossed but you don’t.

“I am carrying the savior. I am more important than your ego.” You say, firm in your stance and keeping your voice steady. “Pray to the divine mother to protect me, if you really want this child,” you turn to Pope. “And to forgive your sins.” You turn to Francisco now, his eyes wide with fear. “Get on your knees. I know you know how.”

There was a beat of silence, everyone waiting for Pope’s movement, you knew. Then, Francisco kneels to you. Then Will. Then Pope. Then Ben, only ever following in what the others do.

When they do, a hush falls over the crowd.

You raise your arms, shouting. “We pray for a hedge of protection around me and my child.”

A voice from the crowd shouts, “hail to the mother and the savior!”

All throughout the room, the congregation echos the sentiments, shouting your praises as the smile grew on your face. They adored you. They loved you. Standing naked wasn’t humiliating, it was power. You feel Francisco’s thumb caress over your bare skin. He smiles as he mouths ‘Hail to the mother.’

You were running high on the endorphins, even excited enough to ride Will’s dick despite your protruding stomach. It was an amazing high, knowing the power you held, the power to make Santiago- Pope, you mean- to make Pope kneel at your command… he owed you. He owed you this. When Will fell asleep, you were still wide awake, unable to get the giddiness out of your system… So you slip a nightie over your body, pulling panties on and sneak out of the room. Jonah had said he’d make you more pancakes tonight if you were hungry and boy, baby was hungry. Rey, as predicted, was snoring in his chair and you have to stifle a giggle as you creepy past him, bare feet light on the wood flooring.

The kitchen was dark, no Jonah… maybe you should go get him. Turning on the kitchen lights you go to exit out the other door, the servants entrance leading to the rooms of Jonah, Iris, and the other guards, but when you did, Jonah was there.

Right away, you knew something was wrong. He wreaked of alcohol, looked like he hadn't slept in days and was piss drunk, stumbling into the kitchen so hard he crashed into you.

“Jonah-oh- I… was gonna take you up on the pancakes…” You mutter, backing away. “But maybe I can make some for you, you seem-”

He catches your wrist.

“I don’t want pancakes.” His voice is gruffer than you ever have known it. Pressing you against the counter, he crowds you in.

Your heart beat picks up, instincts telling you to run, run, run…. But you can’t.

“What… what are you…”

His lips brush your neck before you can blink, his movements clunky and strange. “I want you.”

You try to push him away, but he’s much stronger. “Jonah stop! You’re talking crazy, you haven't been well, please, just-” Again, you try to wiggle away but his hand grabs your waist. “Just go to bed.”

Jonah scoffs, laughing sardonically. “Just like that? I tell you I want to fuck you and you say to sleep it off? Jesus christ, do you have no survival instincts? At all?”

“Please… please stop touching me Jonah…” You want to stop feeling his breath on your skin. “I won’t tell anyone. Just stop!” The tears come, crying and scared and trying to smack his hands away desperately and still trying to push out of his grasp.

“You should be screaming, honey, what is wrong with you?” His hand grips your hip, and you need him away from your baby, now.

With a closed mouth scream, you kick his shin and the shock is enough for him to let go so you take off, but he gives chase. Once again, you are pinned to the door. You knew you could scream. You start screaming, and Rey, or Will, or any of the others will be on their way in seconds and you’d be safe… ‘’

“Why are you doing this?” You sob in his arms, his fingers entangling in your hair. He pulls on it, and you close your mouth intime to not yell.

His hand caresses down your arm, making you shiver and feel so, so sick to your stomach. “God dammit, have the broken every fucking piece of you? Is that it?” Why was he so angry at you? What did you do wrong? Did you tempt him? He hand on your waste again, he keeps almost moving it up towards your breasts or down to your ass but never going far. Jonah rests his forehead on yours. “Why won’t you SCREAM!” He shouts his last word so loud in your face, the strong smell of alcohol bursting on your skin and you shout out loud.

“BECAUSE THEY’LL KILL YOU!” Your whole body heaves, panicing and you feel you might throw up. “ThEY’LL KILL YOU AND I’LL LOSE MY DAD AGAIN!”

His face turns into something pained, and while his hand reminds gripped in your hair to keep you there, he pulls back just enough for you to see him run a hand over his wet face. Right before he slammed it through the wall. You couldn’t help it, your body forced you to scream before your mouth stopped the voice, Jonah’s fist curling tightening and pulling your hair against your scalp as you continued to shout. He continued to punch the wall next to your head.

When Will burst through the door, everything went blank. As soon as Jonah was pulled off you, your body slid down the wall where you watched Will pummel Jonah. At some point, arms were wrapped around you, but you couldn’t tell if it was Rey or Frankie. Only the smell of weed narrowed it down.

You didn’t hear much, your ears ringing as you watched blood fly out of Jonah's mouth. Muffles words weren't as loud as the beats to Jonah's body. You were sure other people were in the room... there was shouting... but you couldn't see anything except Jonah going limp, only jolting weakly at each slam of Will's fists.

You aren’t even sure how you made it back to bed.

Shout out to @hornystan for editing, our beloved Frankie in his formal wear

Okay. So that happened.

JONAH what are you DOING BESTIE??????

PLEASE leave your THOOOTTSS and THOUGHTS!!! Frankie kneelings? Madonna chaneling hr anger??? Jonah doing... ALL THAT!!!!!!!

What are we thinking?

love you all so much! I know theres a lot of bullshit happening in the fandom but just know, dont trust everything you hear. I know at the very least one person the stupid confessions page is attacking is genuinely a kind, amazing person who was in the right <3 If there is a writer you dont think is nice or friendly enough... just keep it to yourself or talk to a few friends. You dont need to air it out publically.

Lets keep it chill, I say to me and my uuhhhh 30 readers B)

ANYWAY

Im like 60 followers away from 1000 followers on this account and i have a fun event planned!!!

I did this poll befoe, but its been like 10 chapters soooooooo

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LOVE YOU ALL!

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helloanthy · 5 months

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🗒️ 24.04.2024 ⋅⋅⋅ 📌

pinned post for the meantime since i am working on my desktop html theme 👩🏻‍💻💭❕ #️⃣ blog tags 💜 i will like tomorrow’s new me — extra anthys 💖 someday is today; together we shine — utenanthy 🙈 hello to you too, chu chu! — a wild chu chu appears ✨ allegory allegorier allegoriest — crossover/AUs/anthy's "cosplays" ✒️ gold plated shangri la — anthys based on OG manga & palette 📺 perpetual motion machine — anthys based on the anime & palette 📽️ endless history of the middle ages — anthys based on the film & design 🔮 in the interval between two mirrors — non-crossover AUs, redesigns, & fanon interpretations ✉️ man can also only convey human nature — answered mail & replies 📒 an operating table, a wrecked ship, the pure flow of the play ⋅⋅⋅ — non-art posts (like this one !) art notes, & rambles 💐 stamen, pistil, a small seed ⋅⋅⋅ the children of philosophy — & other ensemble cast members 🆔 that we may see what may not be seen — art with description text 📜 abraxas ~ the sunlit garden — long posts 📇 until the day comes when i’ll understand everything — lyric of the campus — birth records, baptismal records, records of death — HD files of 少女革命ウテナ (1997), アドゥレセンス黙示録 (1999), & Manga Series 🗃️ the inversion of me and my room — strelitzia: thoughts on transfem!saionji & transmasc!nanami — 🎠 how to contribute to the cycle of violence — september 6th finale: do you love the color of utena? 🪑 mikage seminar — school ID #D-13: please fill out the application form at the desk ⚠️ there are good spirits and there are bad spirits — tagged content warnings: #gore cw #blood cw #violence cw #csa cw #grooming cw #sexual assault cw #genderbend cw #transphobia cw #self harm cw #suicide cw

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elena-mayfair · 2 years

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Bright future, dark city

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Batman x f!reader Warnings: rating T+/M, blood and gore, violence, strong language, themes of depression Summary: This was supposed to be a new beginning, the beginning of a bright future. The new chapter of your life. How quickly all your plans and dreams turned into disappointment. Can you build a future in the city converted in darkness even during the day? How will one random meeting impact you and change your life forever? Word count: 6.5k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

As Bruce Wayne walked cautiously through the crime scene his mind couldn't stop humming a song he heard a few days. Its lyrics so fittingly described what his eyes were currently observing. Blood was everywhere, splattered on the wall, on the floor, turned a brownish-black color which indicated that the murder had been committed at least a few hours ago. "Murder," he repeated the word in his head for his mind couldn't find any other rational explanation for the image that froze even his blood in his veins.

"Have we gone too far? Have we lost our minds?" hummed his mind again as he approached the body of one of the victims to inspect it closely. "Male, mid-thirties. Precipitation spots, on arms, face and neckline…cause of death…." he began to analyze the corpse, "bulging veins, scratched eyes, blood under fingernails…" he picked up the victim's hand analyze closely, "...nails broken, as if from scratching..." he noted and gently lowered it back. Although the stench of rot was beginning to signal progressive decomposition, he moved even closer to the body and stretched the torn skin around the eye socket. With one hand, he reached into a pocket hidden in his belt and extracted small pliers, "nail fragments in the eye sockets, stuck deep under the lower eyelid, or what's left of it..." he noted in his head while looking at the small nail fragments he extracted from a scratched hole. "Have we lost our minds?" his mind hummed again, "he did it to himself...." He reached into his belt again and took out two vials. In one he placed a nail, in the other a sample of clotted blood, "...analyze for toxins..." he noted in his mind again. He moved away from the corpse and surveyed the room. The small room, a small apartment, presented before him a picture of poverty and decline. Many apartments in Narrows presented a similar level of disorder and neglect. And yet, despite the mess, the modest décor, the few pieces of furniture, it wasn't quite one of the denes he had seen so often. On a modest dresser, he saw arranged family pictures, wedding photos, photos from a child's first birthday, from a vacation, from a basketball game, pictures of a family that no longer existed. "Have we lost our minds?" he asked himself again as he walked a few heavy steps through the apartment and approached the woman's body. "A woman, mid-thirties. The body has passed into the rotting stage. The death occurred yesterday, time unknown..." he assessed, and despite the strong biting stench of methane and ammonia, he got closer to the body to inspect it more carefully. The smells used to bring him nausea, but over the years he had grown accustomed to them, "mouth annealed, burned as if with acid…" he carefully parted the woman's jaw, the flesh crumbled in his gloved hands, "mouth and throat scorched…" he swept his eyes over the floor in search of another clue. The mug lay not much farther away, its edges clearly marked with traces of blood, and yet he scanned further eventually stopping, at the bottle of bleach, the remnants of which spilled wetly across the floor. "Cause of death… The woman drank the solvent." He once again drew a small amount of blood for analysis to rule out the presence of other toxins then moved on to the last victim. He crouched down beside a small boy's body, "boy, age between thirteen and fifteen, the body has progressed to the rotting stage…" he assessed again, "cause of death, solvent consumption." He didn't have to analyze the frail young body any longer. The marks on his mouth and face were exactly the same as those on his mother's. He only looked at his hands; there was no sign of struggle on them. Just as there were no signs of struggle on the woman's body.

He stepped away from the corpse and examined carefully the room once more. He swept his eyes over the death and tragedy, swept his eyes over the lives that had been lost, the dreams that had been killed. "Perhaps the boy dreamed of becoming a basketball player? Perhaps he had talent, would have broken out of poverty, helped his family. Perhaps he would have led a happy life," he couldn't help but wonder. "The woman had to feed her son with bleach, then drank it herself. The man came home and at the sight of them scratched his eyes out," he concluded, "Have we lost our minds?"

As he left the crime scene, he heard the oncoming police cars' sirens in the distance. As he rose above the ground he saw Commissioner Gordon's head raised up high, eyes staring into the gaps between the buildings in search of a familiar shape. But the night was dark, the sky covered with thick black clouds effectively masked his figure hidden in the darkness. No one was able to see the black shape rising and falling between the buildings. No one was able to see the movement of his cape flapping in the wind like a shadow of the night itself. No one was able to see Bruce Wayne. He was one with the night. He was the Night. He was Batman.

***

"I'd like you to tell me what brings you here," the doctor sat comfortably in his chair and looked at you from above his glasses. His green eyes flashed with curiosity. He placed a notebook on his lap and a small recorder on the table next to him then pressed record and looked at you meaningfully as if encouraging you to speak.

"I don't know…" you began hesitantly, "I've been wondering for a long time if I should even come here," you tried not to show your anxiety and yet your hands fiddled nervously with the waistband you had tied your dress with. You knew the doctor could see this, you knew it was a sign of nervousness, and yet every time you stopped consciously controlling your movements your hands unwittingly began to wrap the belt around your fingers.

"And yet here you are," the doctor continued, "yet despite your reluctance, you chose to come here. So please tell me what's bothering you," he encouraged, "I'd like to make a preliminary assessment so it's important that you speak honestly."

"I don't know where to start," you smiled wearily.

"It's best to start from the beginning."

"We don't have that much time, believe me!" you quipped, "What kind of evaluation do you have in mind?" you asked.

"As a doctor, I have to assess whether therapy is the right form of treatment for you," he explained, "The first few meetings will serve as a familiarization. This is not therapy yet. I would like you to tell me about yourself, about your problems, the more the better. After a few meetings, I will assess whether therapy is advisable in your case, or whether another solution should be recommended." You liked his voice, low, soft, he spoke as if in a half whisper forcing you to focus your attention on his every word.

"I get it," you replied and fell silent for a moment, "Fuck, I don't know what tempted me to come here," you said more to yourself, "I can curse right?" you asked slightly embarrassed.

"If it's going to help you express your thoughts and feelings freely I have no objections," he answered.

"Gee, I've been thinking for a while now that maybe I should go to therapy," you began, "but somehow I procrastinated. Because as I mentioned before, I don't think it's the right place for me," you raised your eyes at him and he just kept observing, "Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't believe in the relevance of therapy, I know it helps a lot of people. However, I don't believe its relevance in my case."

"Why is that?"

"Because…" you searched for the right words in your mind, "because it's not that I don't know what's wrong with me. I know exactly what happened to me, I'm consciously aware of it, I don't run away from this awareness in any way. I don't repress it. Sometimes I think maybe I'm depressed, but moments later I explain to myself that I'm just having a worse day and I need to get on with my life and stop bitching. But on the other hand, I'm aware that maybe things aren't as good with me as I'd like them to be," even though your nerves were rushing wild, you kept the tone of your voice under control. Poker face, a slightly sassy smile, you did not flee with your gaze from the doctor, on the contrary, you looked him straight in the eye.

"How does it manifest itself?" the doctor inquired.

"Hmm…" a million thoughts ran through your head as you tried to choose the right one, "I used to have periods of mostly good moods that lasted much longer," you finally decided, "a few weeks of good moods to a week or two of feeling down. Lately, I feel that these stages have definitely shortened. They are more one-to-one. One week of good mood for one week of miserable mood. Just to be clear, it's not that I'm sitting and crying to my pillow!" you stated wryly, "It's not even that I'm sad. It's just that I'm so…meh."

"Meh?" the doctor's eyebrow arched questioningly.

"Well, meh," you laughed quietly, "simply meh. Complete indifference. I'm walking home and I hear sirens and I think to myself that if I got shot, nothing would actually happen. I'm driving my car on a rainy night and I think to myself that basically if I crashed, nothing would happen. I saw recently on the news that some lunatic name Joker poisoned people with some kind of toxin and they died of laughter, and I thought that it would be kinda cool actually, at least I would have some laughs before I died. Oh, that kind of meh." As you explained you were smiling the whole time. You didn't feel sad, you didn't feel ashamed, sometimes your black intrusive thoughts even amused you.

"Do you have suicidal thoughts?" the doctor asked.

"No!" you denied immediately, "Just so we are clear, I don't want to kill myself! Only if I died then, really, nothing would happen."

"And what about your family?"

"The dead are unlikely to express an opinion," you chuckled, "I have no family. I'm just me," you replied in a more serious tone.

"Boyfriend, partner, girlfriend?"

"I haven't had much time or desire for relationships lately," you explained amused, "between the death of my father and mother I've rather had no time to think about dating."

"I can see that you are amused by this subject," the doctor noted with a curious glare in his green eyes.

"Black humor, sarcasm and irony are the defense mechanism of intelligent people," you replied with a smirk, "or the very fucked up ones," you exhaled with even more amusement, "I realize I probably sound like I've lost all my mind but that's not the case. I just don't see the point in sitting and dwelling on subjects over which I have no control. I'm alive, I'm functioning normally, I'm taking on new challenges, a new job, things are moving along. It's fine!"

"And yet you came here…" the doctor's half-whisper forced you to reflect again, "Why?"

"Probably out of fear…." you replied and the mask of confidence broke slightly, "Because you see, my grandmother suffered from depression. For years. There were periods in her life when she couldn't function at all. All day long she would sit and stare at the wall with empty eyes and cry, nothing but crying. And every time I asked her why she was crying, I tried to shake her out of it somehow she just answered that she was so sad," your fingers started wrapping the waistband of your dress again, "there were times that she was in such a severe state that she had to be locked in the isolated psychiatric ward. She died alone…in her own apartment. And I'm sure she cried the day before…." you paused for a moment and gazed at the doctor. In your eyes, he was far too young to have the title of professor, and yet, he was the best psychiatrist in town, "I know what happened to me, and I'm afraid of it. But...I am afraid that if I don't get my head in order I'll end up like my grandmother. Consumed by my misery, crying, dying alone…."

"Fear is a strong trigger, one of the strongest that a person can experience. Fear drives our actions, sometimes it compels us to proceed, sometimes it paralyzes us..." the green eyes shone again, "I would like to continue the subject of your fear at the next meeting," he reached for the recorder and pressed stop, "unfortunately our time today has come to an end."

You glanced at your watch and were surprised that the hour had passed so quickly. Although coming here you didn't think you would be able to talk about your problems at all, the doctor's calm presence made you feel relaxed, made you feel that since you were already here and you were paying him for every minute, you might as well talk.

"Next week at the same time?" you asked, getting up from the sofa and extending your hand to him.

"I've already put you on the calendar," he shook your hand and smiled faintly.

"Thank you, Professor Crane. See you next week."

***

It's only been a month since you arrived in Gotham. A month of assimilation in a city you had never planned to live in. You knew that the day you first laid eyes on the city would remain unforgettable, you knew you would never forget that first impression when you discovered how different Gotham turned out to be compared to Metropolis, in which you wanted to build your future. In Metropolis, everything seemed possible. The bright sun reflected joyfully in the glass-encased skyscrapers, peeked through windows into houses, lit up parks and alleys, made drivers lower their car windows to enjoy the crisp air. Metropolis was a beautiful city, a true city of the future. Clean, well-maintained, modern, it promised a new beginning, it promised a bright future. How excited you were when you stood in front of a building so tall that it seemed to touch the sky itself, brighter than all those around it, with a giant glowing LexCorp at the very top of it. How confident you were as you admired its majesty, wondering on which floor you would get to work. What a thrill of excitement ran down your spine as you took one last look at your reflection in the tinted window of the black Rolls-Royce parked outside the building without even noticing the presence of the driver and passenger. This was supposed to be a new dawn, the beginning of a bright future.

How quickly all your plans and dreams turned into disappointment. The position of engineer at Luthor Technologies, a branch of LexCorp, didn't seem so important that the CEO himself had to conduct the interview. And yet, after picking up your badge, and signing in the guest book, you were escorted to the forty-ninth floor where you were greeted by Lex Luthor himself. Your knees buckled as he introduced himself and shook your hand. As you tried to rationalize the situation you found yourself in, you thought for a moment that perhaps it was a joke, perhaps it was a test. However, Lex quickly made you realize that he was taking this recruitment extremely seriously. His appearance, the tone of his voice, his posture, left no room for doubt...everything about him said "power". The power that manifested through a perfectly stoic face, a masterfully poised tone of voice, a superbly tailored suit. An authority that would not sit on the opposite side of the table but would stand with his hands folded behind his back watching the city unfold outside the window. The authority that only occasionally glanced at you when you were trying to answer all the questions. An authority that made you feel so very uncomfortable. You couldn't tell whether it was the tone of his voice, or the strange mannerism in his speech, or the way he accented certain words, or the way his eyes landed on you time and again, a glance that was so very uncomfortable. The LexCorp CEO was smiling, one could even get the impression that he was charming, but in your eyes, it was the smile of a predator gazing greedily at his new prey. There was nothing genuine about him, for the elegance he displayed was built on a majestic ego and a sense of superiority. You couldn't tell why, but that's how you perceived him. You couldn't tell why, but minute by minute you wanted nothing more than to escape the situation you found yourself in.

"I own Metropolis," he said while staring at the view outside the window, "My technology built it, my will keeps it going, and nearly two-thirds of its people work for me whether they know it or not. I've seen your resume, and I know you would be an invaluable asset to my company. I want you to work for me, with your knowledge and skills we could enter a new era. Why limit myself to just one city?" you recalled him turning in your direction and throwing a dangerously charming smile, "The wage doesn't matter."

This could have been the job of your dreams, the wage he offered you would have allowed you to realize all your dreams. And yet, that feeling, like a cold shiver dancing down your spine, alerting all your senses, told you that you shouldn't be here.

Lex gave you two days to think about his offer. But the moment he shook your hand goodbye you knew that for no money in the world would you work for such a man.

"Maybe it's better that people never get to know the heads of their companies," you thought as you turned down Grand Avenue.

As soon as you exchanged the last courtesies required by the social circumstances you found yourself in, you ran out of the LexCorp building faster than was acceptable. You didn't care. You didn't care about the surprised glances of the receptionists, the polite "have a nice day," your dry reply, the man you bumped into as you ran out onto the boardwalk in front of the building as if in desperate need of fresh air.

"Excuse me," he said, stopping in mid-step but you paid no attention to his kind smile and warm voice. You wanted to get as far away from LexCorp as possible.

And yet you never thought you'd run all the way to Gotham. As you walked through the crowded streets of the city, you couldn't help but wonder if this was to be your new beginning. Gotham was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. The breathtaking architecture made you want to stop and admire the buildings at every moment. The city was inviting with its wide streets, stunning bridges connecting islands, skyscrapers reaching the heavens, it was lighting up faces with countless lights, with the glow of billboards. And yet you only had to stop for a moment to see its hidden eerie beauty. It seemed that in every street something dark was lurking, something dangerous. It was as if the city every day of every season was suspended two minutes before midnight on a November night. The skyscrapers reached high, but instead of inspiring awe, they seemed to suffocate what was at their base. Decaying buildings adorned with arches and spirals, smaller houses from whose rooftops spooky gothic gargoyles looked down, all seemed to mock your admiration. The city lights, the brightness of billboards illuminated the night, not to bring a delight of color and vibrant life, but to reveal gothic churches where people's faith had not hosted for a long time. Everywhere you looked modernity collided with an era long forgotten. Seemingly inviting places hid something sinister. An ordinary park, was not an ordinary park at all, it was a maze of trees and sculptures worn down by time, destroyed by human malice. The ordinary street hid signs of fear and terror. Your focused eyes caught every discrepancy, every HA HA HA painted on the wall, every monster lives in the sewers, every anarchy symbol, every question mark painted in green on the walls. Gotham was beautiful, but it was also fallen, destroyed, rotten from the inside. Danger lurked in the mists, death lurked in the dark streets, and the shadows, shadows seemed to have eyes, shadows seemed to be watching.

"And I could have lived in Metropolis…" you thought as you stopped in front of the entrance to Wayne Enterprises. You raised your head high towards the top, trying to encompass the size of the building in which you were about to start your work.

"Wayne Enterprises…" you sighed in disbelief and smiled at the memory of the day the job offer arrived in your email. A week after an unpleasant experience at LexCorp you found yourself being interviewed at yet another giant corporation, and two weeks later you signed a contract for an engineering position at WayneTech.

"Who would have thought…," you mused while admiring the architecture of the beautiful building, "WayneTech holy fuck..." it was hard not to stare at the beauty of modernity mixed with the classics of yesteryear. In all shades of gray, it appeared majestic, and yet it did not overwhelm with its presence. The giant stylized W stood out against the tower but compared to the LexCorp building, it didn't scream "power," rather it subtly asserted its presence. At the very top of the tower, barely visible from the sidewalk, thirteen gargoyles looked over each of the 13 roads into Gotham as if guarding their entrance. "I wonder if there are cameras installed in them…"

"Beautiful isn't it?" you heard a male voice next to you.

"Yes, truly stunning. It's hard not to stop and admire. As with most buildings in Gotham," you replied without taking your eyes off the tower.

"At the top of it is an observation deck from which you can see the entire city. The view is unforgettable."

"I'll have to stay longer after work one day and check it out," you replied more to yourself.

"You work here?" the man asked.

"I'm starting," you replied shortly, "Who puts gargoyles on top of the tower?!"

"The tower was built in 1888 at the behest of Alan Wayne, based on designs by Cyrus Pinkney," the man replied, "You're new to Gotham," he added after a moment more by statement than a question, causing you to finally tear your gaze away from the tower and look at the stranger.

"Is it that obvious?" you laughed slightly embarrassed, and the man only smiled kindly. His smile was so warm and yet so devilishly charming that it momentarily brought a blush to your face. Tall, athletic, handsome, he was dressed in a sleek black turtleneck and a dark brown jacket. You immediately decided that you had never seen a man look so good in a turtleneck. His intensely blue eyes smiled at you as his perfectly black hair glistened with drops of evening dew.

"Most Gothamites know the history of the building and its founders," he replied kindly.

"Well, guilty!" you laughed, "I moved to Gotham a month ago," you explained.

"Why? If you don't mind me asking," blue eyes shone questioningly.

"For work," you replied, "I was offered a job at Wayne Enterprises. An offer that it would be foolish to turn down."

"That good of an offer?" he smirked.

"Definitely better than the competition," you replied, "I just hope the CEO isn't an asshole like the CEO of LexCorp," you added under your breath and yet the man heard the muttered sentence.

"Did you apply to LexCorp?" he asked curiously.

"I applied to most of the big tech companies. LexCorp, Stagg Industries, Queen Industries, and Wayne Enterprises," you replied but also your curiosity grew, " sorry, you work in the field?" you asked as you glanced at the building.

"Yes, we will be working in the same building," he replied with a smirk, "I don't want to be nosey, but why did you call Luthor an asshole?"

"Because he is one!" you chuckled without hesitation, "long story, maybe I'll tell you one day. The building seems huge, but you will probably find me somewhere looking at yet another piece of architecture. It's getting late, I was heading home."

"Let me walk you to your car," he offered and turned toward the building.

"No need," you stopped him, "I live nearby, in Kingston. I was planning to walk and admire Gotham's other architectural sights."

"I don't want to spoil your pleasant evening but Gotham is not very safe for evening walks," he became suddenly serious, "let me call you a cab."

"Come on! A city like any other. Crime is everywhere," you brushed off.

"It's obvious that you're new here," he quipped, "in that case let me walk you home. It wouldn't be good to start a new job with sick leave, don't you think?" there was something so charming in the way he looked at you that you couldn't find the strength to refuse him.

"If you insist," you agreed.

"I insist," he smirked, "otherwise I'll spend the whole evening wondering if that reckless girl made home safely, or if admiring the architecture brought her harm."

"For sure!" you laughed and began walking towards your home while the stranger followed, "cool, at least you'll have a chance to tell me a bit more about Gotham. Something tells me that, unlike me, you've lived here all your life," you glanced at him discreetly when he changed sides situating himself on your left, closer to the street. "Gentleman, and here I was thinking that such men no longer exist."

"A native Gothamite," he confirmed, "Gotham has been my home since birth, except for the few years I spent traveling."

"Work?" you asked.

"Education."

"Ah, an intellectual!" you grinned.

"Not that I'm picking on you, but you were the one admiring the city's architecture a moment ago," he smirked.

"Because there's so much to admire! Gotham is so beautiful!" you swept your eyes over the buildings around you and stopped for a moment, "Look at Wayne Tower from afar," you turned around toward the building, "What a perfect example of the Art Deco style! A building that by its very design speaks elegance and class, prosperity and sophistication," the man stood beside you and out of the corner of your eye you could see that his eyes kept shifting from the building back to you, "Straight lines, clean shapes, sharp angles, chevrons, elegant gray mixed with a touch of jade," you continued, "and yet at the very top of it sit thirteen gargoyles, what a strange touch of Gothic. Just like this building," you turned toward the building next to you, "it's destroyed and devastated, you can see that it's been worn down by time, and yet if you look closely you can see the remnants of its flying buttresses, its pointed arches, by day you could probably see the remains of the rich ornamentation carved on the walls, and I bet inside you'd see ribbed vaults," you pointed with your hand to the various elements, "and of course those gargoyles again. Creepy, yet so beautiful."

"Yes, Gotham is beautiful…" he admitted quietly.

"It's creepy," you added, "but beautiful."

"Have you studied art?" he asked.

"No. It just fascinates me. Art and the history behind it fascinates me," you replied, "it fascinates me how such beauty can fall so much, how it can become so broken."

"The reign of power, corruption, crime…" he listed while his face took on a somber look.

"Like in any city…"

"Believe me, not like in any other city," he stated grimly.

"And yet you live here," you smiled at him.

"This is my home."

"I left mine, what's the problem?"

"And you moved here," this time he smirked.

"Hey, I already told you! It would be foolish of me to reject the job offer from Wayne Enterprises!" you replied and began walking towards home as he once more took a place on your left. Despite the fact that he outweighed you by more than a head, he kindly matched his pace of step with yours.

"Why Wayne Enterprises?" he asked, "aside from the working conditions."

"I like the company's principles and the innovation it brings to the market. In today's world driven only by consumption and trends and the never-ending lust for money, Wayne Enterprises seems to adhere to the old principles," you replied, "I don't know, call me a naive idealist, but I want to believe that in this vicious rotten world there are still people who care about the well being of others," a trace of cynicism tinged your smile. The stranger did not respond, he only smiled, a warm sincere smile as if such a measure of naiveté was something he could identify with, "Looking at what WayneTech has done for this city, what it has done for people, what technologies it has introduced, how much it improves people's lives day by day, how could I not want to be part of such a company."

"It is nice to hear that," there was no trace of mockery in his voice.

"Yes, I know, the newbie idealizes the company, while the old guard mock!" you teased.

"Not at all," he denied immediately.

"Gee, I don't think that's naiveté on my part!" you continued, "Looking at the company's actions I think that this Wayne guy must be a good CEO and have his moral backbone in place."

"Where did that opinion come from?" he asked, and for a moment you were convinced that slight amusement flashed in his eyes.

"Because they don't get into the weapons business," you replied, "It's a giant market! And you know, technology and weapons go hand in hand. Money and weapons even more so! WayneTech could really revolutionize the gun market! Yet the company is standing firm on the matter, and staying away, gaining its place in the market by other means, when their competitors are pulling easy money from guns. Like LexCorp," she flinched, "I respect this approach!"

"Employees rarely care what kind of technology a company creates."

"I do! I'm an engineer! I don't want my knowledge to contribute to tools that can be used for destruction!" you furrowed your brow angrily, "Every scientist, every engineer should think about their contribution to the world. Maybe if someone like Oppenheimer had given it some thought beforehand, the atomic bomb wouldn't still exist today."

"I think you'll enjoy working at WayneTech," a genuine smile came to his face once again. You averted your eyes, trying to maintain control and not stare at that handsome face and perfect jawline.

"Do you also work at WayneTech or in another department?" you asked stubbornly staring at the street in front of you.

"In another division, but I often venture over to WayneTech," he replied, "You seem to have quite strong opinions on many subjects. Technology, economics, history, Lex Luthor…"

"Oh, don't even let me get started!!!" you raised your voice, "Have you ever had a chance to meet him! What a creepy guy!!"

"Did you meet him?"

"For some reason, he decided that he would personally interview me! Can you imagine!" the outrage on your face was only lightened by an amused tone of voice, "In my entire life I have never met someone who gave me the creeps like him! Fucking creep..."

"The tabloids are writing something different. One of the most influential people in the world."

"The tabloids can write that he has a Nobel peace prize and a pink unicorn in the basement for all I care!" the stranger chuckled amused, "If you ask me, he's a creep, period! I don't know, I can't describe it in words. There was something about him that sent chills down my spine."

"I dread to ask what you think of the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, leaving aside the bit about a strong moral spine," the corner of his mouth twitched in a barely visible smile.

"I haven't had a chance to meet him," you shrugged, "I read some interview with him once, in GQ I think. I saw some pictures from some gala or something. Handsome, he always has some chick by his side but who can blame him. After all, they call him the Prince of Gotham."

"So you read the tabloids, after all," he teased.

"No, I don't! But like everyone else I sometimes fall victim of boredom," you countered and stopped in front of one of the buildings, "This is where I live."

"Gargoyles guard your building as well," he pointed with his hand to the top level.

"True," you admitted with a smirk, "Damn, sorry if I let you down, but I don't have any hot take on the CEO of our company. I don't follow celebrity gossip, I don't give a flying fuck about what obscenely rich people do with their obscenely massive fortunes. I prefer a good book or a good movie. His presence on social media is non-existent…" you held the thought upon seeing the amused face, "fine, don't judge! I checked!" you laughed.

"I'm not judging!" he chuckled, yet behind his amused look was something you couldn't decipher.

"Anyway, on Twitter, I follow writers, filmmakers and musicians not rich playboys and billionaires. What do I care about their empty two-dimensional lives perfectly presented like an Instagram ad."

"Just a moment ago you said you liked how he runs his company," he paraphrased your words.

"Well, because I do. But damn, I don't have to be interested in his private life and what kind of person he is outside of work. I'm interested in Tesla but I'm not interested in what Elon Musk does with his wealth, why should he wallow in it!" you countered, "after all, the guy doesn't sit day and night at work! When I meet him I'll tell you what he's like," you smiled brightly, "although after meeting Luthor I'm somehow in no hurry," you added bitterly.

"Maybe it won't be so horrible," his blue eyes brightened.

"We'll see," you glanced at your watch and with surprise discovered that it was getting close to 11 pm, "Damn! I took way too much of your time!"

"I offered to walk you home. Besides, I really enjoyed talking with you," he smiled sincerely and the warmth of his smile left no shadow of a doubt that he was telling the truth. He reached into his pocket for his phone, " Excuse me, I left my car outside the office," he excused himself politely.

"Sure!" you politely waited for him to finish and put the phone back in his pocket, "It was nice talking to you, too. Really," you smiled charmingly, "I can't remember the last time I had such a nice walk."

"Why don't we do it again?" he proposed, "I haven't had a chance to tell you about Gotham."

"Because I talk too much!" you laughed.

"I really enjoyed it," he assured you.

"I'd love to take another walk with you," you agreed, "Holy shit! I didn't even introduce myself!!!" you exclaimed slightly embarrassed realizing that throughout the entire walk you didn't even learn his name, "Damn, sorry! I'm such an idiot," you extended your hand, "Y/N Y/L/N" you introduced yourself just in time to notice a black Rolls Royce emerging from around the corner.

"I didn't introduce myself either," he replied and took your hand. The grin disappeared from your face, the upbeat mood faded away, replaced by complete horror and embarrassment, "Bruce Wayne. It's a pleasure to meet you."

For moments you didn't know what to do. You stood there, stunned, with your hand locked in his, staring into his blue eyes while a blush of embarrassment mercilessly coated your face.

"You're fucking kidding me…" you finally whispered and Bruce only laughed, "Oh holy fuck…" you freed your hand from his grasp, "Oh holy fuck, what a fuckup…" your heart pounded in your chest, "Couldn't you have told me earlier!"

"I honestly thought you were pranking me," he tried to explain innocently.

"I wasn't!" you hoped you sounded sincere, "I'm pranking you…fuck, seriously!?" you snarled "Sorry! I mean, I am really sorry Mr. Wayne, I really didn't know, and I really wasn't making fun of you," you corrected yourself immediately, realizing that you were talking to your superior. What's more, with one of the most influential people in the world.

"It's Bruce," he corrected you gently, "I'm the one who should apologize. I could have said something earlier but I didn't want to spoil this delightful evening. I would have missed the chance to have such a lovely conversation…" the smile didn't disappear from his face, "Forgive me but I couldn't do it."

"I didn't mean anything bad by talking about disgustingly rich millionaires…" you were doing your best to control the tone of your voice and somehow save the remnants of your dignity.

"You meant it, you meant exactly what you said. But don't apologize, or don't feel embarrassed," his voice sounded warm and kind, "I meant what I said, I truly enjoyed myself tonight in your company," he assured, "and believe me, that's rare these days."

"Thank you for walking me home Mr. Wayne," you forced yourself to smile even though you really wanted to sink to the ground.

"It's Bruce," he corrected you again and extended his hand once more, "I'll see you soon."

***

As he glided over the city, Bruce found himself smiling for the first time in a long time. Seemingly a random situation, an unassuming conversation between two completely random people, and yet it made the night seem somehow lighter, the moon shone as if somehow bigger, the stars in the sky shone as if brighter. As he rose and fell between the buildings, Bruce stopped for the first time in a long time and looked at the beauty of the city he had sworn to protect, which he had sworn to save from impending doom. For the first time in a long time, Bruce saw the beauty hidden beneath the surface of decay, a long-forgotten trace of a time in which people didn't have to be afraid, in which life prospered and flourished. A reality he so desperately wanted to restore, rekindle, bring back to light, just as this inconspicuous conversation with a random woman brought a smile to his tormented face.

"Perhaps we haven't lost our minds after all…"

***

Chapter two: Curious people

***

Author note: Hi! :) So here we are at the beginning of the new story. The first chapter of what I hope will be a lengthy series. A story about fears and hopes, a story about strength to fight our demons, a story about depression, a story about loss, a story about finding hope in the darkest of places.

For those of you who read my previous works, some themes might be reoccurring, but we write about what we know. Some of us, like me, write as a form of therapy, to help the tormented mind and maybe along the way bring some joy to others.

About the story itself: I don't know for how long I wanted to write Batman's story. I think the time has come. Quick disclaimer, it won't be based on any particular version of Bruce/Batman. I am a huge Batman fan! Huge! Since I can remember. Every portrayal brought something else to the character, and each tackled a different side of him. I love Pattinson Batman, I watched the movie five times. I love Bale Bruce, and I believe that Batman Begins is my favorite Batman movie. I watched all the Batman movies, all of them. I watched Batman The Animated Series so many times, and yes this is the most perfect Batman ever put to screen. I'm reading comics, I'm playing Arkham games once a year. I believe that Gotham TV Show is severely underrated! Yeah...I'm a fan :) So I am sorry but I cannot just go with one version. I'll be pulling from different sources, and different mediums, mixing and matching for the story I want to tell. I thought I should put it out there so people who are looking for any particular version of Batman wouldn't be disappointed.

To those who are up to it, hope you will enjoy the ride :)

If you want to be tagged, let me know :)

For now, my Dear Reader I thank you for reading.

#batman x reader #batman x y/n #bruce wayne x reader #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #batman x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #batman #bruce wayne #dc comics #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction

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iwasntstable · 5 days

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𝗡.𝗦. | 𝗡𝗢𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗚𝗢 | 𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗫

誰かが描いた世界の中で　あなたを傷つけたくないよ In this world that someone created I don’t want to hurt you

覚えていて　僕のことを　鮮やかなまま Remember how I bright I was (before all this)

Summary: You knew the decision to follow your father into the so-called 'most dangerous Ward' was a dangerous one, but you had to do anything and everything possible to keep him alive. He's the only family you have left. Growing evermore reckless after the death of your mother and blinded by his lust for retribution, this decision is one that will alter the course of your life forever. And the life of a half-ghoul half-human who never thought he'd find himself entangled with the daughter of a former CCG Investigator.

NOWHERE TO GO is a multi-chapter story set in the Tokyo Ghoul universe, centring around Half-Ghoul!Noah and Human!Reader.

General Content Tags: graphic depictions of violence and gore, death, cannibalism, angst, fluff, smut.

Note: Please be aware this story is set in the universe of Tokyo Ghoul, before the events of the manga and anime. It will, however, contain references to content found in the source material. Specific content warnings will be applied at the beginning of each chapter.

✶ [join the NOWHERE TO GO taglist.]

𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗫; 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦_𝘰𝘯𝘦 / 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦_𝘵𝘸𝘰 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 / —— / —— / —— / —— / —— / ➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

† please note;　　this story will contain scenes of fantasy violence and gore throughout, and will contain nsfw scenes. this story will also broach sensitive topics and contain darker themes. you are responsible for what you consume on the internet, reader discretion advised.

CREDIT › image — 'Tokyo Ghoul:re - Chapter 54' - 石田スイ (Sui Ishida). › image edit — @iwasntstable (me). › star divider — @saradika-graphics. › lyrics — 'unravel' by TK (北嶋徹 / Toru Kitajima). › lyrics translation — yumehokori on wordpress - source. › Tokyo Ghoul — created by 石田スイ (Sui Ishida).

#C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/SERIES/NTG #<file;type=system-nav/>

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eyelambspider · 9 days

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𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐧. . . 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 !

❝ feel extremely welcome on my blog, I'd love to have you here! although I love horror I'm not as scary as I may seem! ❞

@ 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐞. Call me 'Cam'. she/her/hers. 20+. Writing for funs? König & Horror Enthusiast. Likes men in uniform (allegedly). 𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠. I've been writing for a bit (and casually) usually fluffy stuff, but I've been trying to do longer fics and into a more darker 'horror' theme. Feel free to even just message me, I like horror but I promise I'm not scary (probably far from it).

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 [ 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 / 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 ]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. könig, simon "ghost" riley, john price, kyle "gaz" garrick, john "soap" mactavish, horangi

𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬. I would love to see your requests & write for them, but I don't want to overwhelm myself either! I am not obligated to write your request, so I apologize in advance if that happens! (I usually do them anyway so...). Feel free to shoot me any requests you have!

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝. I write gender neutral readers or no use of y/n. I also will write male or fem readers given a specific scenario (like smut). I'm also extremely new at nsfw so go easy on me at first tybb. Quick list: nsfw, oneshots, headcanons, horror, yandere, gore/death, fluff, angst, fem x fem/male x male, poly, songfics (lyric requests), au, platonic/romantic, comfort 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝. I don't write intensely dark themes that include non-consent/dead dove, exclusively character x character, or original characters (described readers are okay). yes i walk a fine line lol

𝐂𝐎𝐃 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐬.

Janitor.AI || Check out my COD bots. I make them myself, and on occasion they come with a written counterpart that you'd see here on my tumblr. Also feel free to send bot suggestions to my askbox!

'mdni' banner & divider credits go to @cafekitsune!

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writernopal · 5 months

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"In a flash I am switched into despair Everything for the one who lives inside a nightmare Missing you from the bottom of my heart"

Love Theme, Jackie Presti

note: lyrics translated from Hebrew using this resource.

{Part II: When We Came and Went, Chapter 9: Apex}

WC: 3572 CW: blood, violence, gore, animal death, drug use

M.O.W Taglist: @full-on-sam @illjustpretend @sparatus @outpost51 @captain-kraken

@the-mindless @zestymimblo @mysticstarlightduck @tabswrites @void-botanist

Join/leave the taglist using this Google Form.

Preview below the cut! Read the full chapter on Wattpad 💚

Gray mists shrouded the mornings, warm lamplight lit the nights, and the hours in between bathed themselves in shadows, spotted with diffused sunlight, pallidly shining through the clouds and trees. Heavy rains swept over the hilly, densely clustered terrain on most days, pelting the reaching trees and thick undergrowth—her gluttonous lovers. Framing their passionate cries were the rapacious calls of fauna. Shrieking birds, trilling insects, occasional heaves of large creatures, and the screaming of furry little things called chavya—-monkeys.

They, in particular, howled into the space as if it were their own private theater. And they fought often. Dozens and dozens of those interposing voices echoed between the trees, exhorting a most wicked violence from their chosen combatant. And on the rarest of occasions, momentary silence, introduced by the menacing roar of a jungle cat. Sometimes the quiet lasted just a few minutes, other times nearer an hour, as if this remote place, and all in it, held a collective breath, anxiously waiting for the danger to pass.

#m.o.w #m.o.w chapter #hartim #lexlar #my writing #writeblr

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sandwichsugarbong · 5 months

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"Female Face Breaker" is a track from Mutilated's album "Devirginated Genital Pulp," released in 2010. The song is a brutal example of slam death metal, characterized by its slow, heavy rhythms, guttural vocals, and crushing breakdowns. Lyrically, it explores themes of violence and gore, common in the extreme metal genre. The track exemplifies Mutilated's signature style, known for its intense and aggressive sound.

Another favorite of mine, and the album is pretty good as well. 7.5/10.

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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 6 months

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ℭ𝔥𝔲𝔠𝔨 𝔖𝔠𝔥𝔲𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔯 (✮ յգճԴ - ♰ շօօյ)

#Chuck Schuldiner (R.I.P. 2001)#Death #Scream Bloody Gore #Scream Bloody Gore era #80's #Live #Stage #Death Metal #Classic Metal #Oldschool Death Metal #OSDM #Genre: Death Metal #Lyrical themes: Death Gore #USA

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myc0smosism1ne · 7 months

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"Some Great Reward": Depeche Mode's Synth-Pop Evolution

British band Depeche Mode’s fourth studio album Some Great Reward released in 1984 was a turning point in the band’s sound that resulted in their first US chart success, with their single “People are People” reaching no. 13 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.

Some Great Reward was a transitional phase for Depeche Mode, where the aspects that would come to define Depeche Mode’s signature sound in the years to come were starting to develop. Songwriter Martin Gore was coming into his own, with his lyrics reflecting relationships and the human condition, grappling with skepticism of religion, sex, politics, and love, from the perspective of an intelligent and cynical soul. Gore’s lyrics exhibit a depth often overlooked in music; notably, as they avoid common love tropes and present a more honest and realistic portrayal of relationships

Often the band’s earlier lyrics were backed by a more pop-style arrangement, Some Great Reward still contains those pop hooks and arrangements, but they are created to be in a more foreboding style. The album’s instrumentation sounds like they clash at first listen, but with further listening, this combination of thought-provoking lyrics and the industrial, loud dynamic music, sometimes coupled with soft and sweet sounding instrumentation, are done masterfully, where these seemingly contrasting ideas come together seamlessly. Depeche Mode became more playful and musically innovative with Some Great Reward, testing the boundaries of sound and the machinery of electronic instrumentation, redefining the genre of synth-pop in the process, into something more industrialized and tinged with subtle elements of darkness in the album's atmosphere.

Some Great Reward, saw Depeche Mode stepping out of the youthful, more energetic, and brighter synth-pop sound of their first couple of albums, signaling the member's maturation into being young adults and grappling with different complexities. One of the most prominent examples of this is the song “Master and Servant,” taking the theme of capitalism in society and subtly revealing this from within the song's lyrical themes of sex and BDSM, bringing the first musical taste of the new turn Depeche Mode was taking, a turn to something more earnest, more sexual, and more darkly cynical.

The lyrics explore the interplay between control and submission, drawing parallels between intimate desires and the broader societal structures influenced by power imbalances. The provocative nature of "Master and Servant" extends beyond its lyrics, with the music itself contributing to the song's edginess. The juxtaposition of alluring melodies with darker, more industrial elements exemplifies Depeche Mode's willingness to challenge musical conventions, foreshadowing the innovative approach they would further develop in subsequent albums.

The synth-pop-filled, often naive lyricism that defined their earlier albums is still subtly present but now takes on a more nuanced and complex role, with it being a backdrop to the band's lyrical exploration of power dynamics and societal structures.

Gore’s lyrics explore complex and provocative themes, such as on some of the album's standout tracks, "Blasphemous Rumours," "Stories of Old," and "Lie to Me," that delve into poignant narratives that contribute significantly to the album's emotional impact. In "Blasphemous Rumours," the lyrics address the weighty subject of suicide, offering a stark commentary on the struggles of individuals and the moral implications surrounding life and death. The combination of dark lyrical content against the backdrop of an upbeat musical arrangement creates a haunting contrast, enhancing the emotional impact of the song, and aligns with the album's broader examination of societal and personal challenges.

"Stories of Old" introduces a different facet of Depeche Mode's lyrical prowess, with its delving into themes of desire, intimacy, and vulnerability. The lyrics paint a vivid picture of romantic entanglements, showcasing Martin Gore's ability to convey complex emotions through evocative storytelling. As the track unfolds, the listener is immersed in a narrative of passion and longing, adding a layer of intimacy to the album's overarching exploration of human relationships. Similarly, "Lie to Me" explores the dynamics of deceit and self-deception within relationships, the lyrics are filled with longing and vulnerability, and contribute to the emotional depth of the album, as the music skillfully weaves a narrative that complements the broader themes of love, power, and societal critiques found throughout Some Great Reward.

Instrumentation on the album also marks a notable departure from the band's earlier sound, with the incorporation of newer band member Alan Wilder into Depeche Mode’s lineup bringing a fresh perspective, that is evident in the meticulous layering of synthesizers, drum machines, and the albums innovative use of samplers. The sonic landscape becomes more textured and sophisticated, with Wilder's influence pushing the boundaries of the electronic sounds in the album. This departure is particularly noticeable in tracks like "Somebody," where the subtle interplay between instrumentation and emotive vocals reflects a newfound depth and complexity.

The album heavily relies on synthesizers and drum machines, complemented by inventive samplers that capture sounds from everyday life, such as pans falling down stairs and working it into the album's soundscape. Some Great Reward’s unconventional use of sampling provides an intriguing layer of complexity with the album’s attention to detail in the sampling process, adding depth with the transformation of seemingly mundane sounds into integral components of the album's sonic identity.

Each track on the album has a disjunct yet harmonious sonic landscape, where the separation of vocal and instrumental layers is remarkably clear, allowing listeners to distinguish each element while still experiencing the cohesive flow of the music, resulting in an exhilarating listening experience that showcases Wilder's mastery in blending technical precision with artistic creativity.

The album's contrast of dark lyrical content against upbeat musical arrangements, along with the evocative storytelling, enriches the album's overarching story of societal challenges, human relationships, and personal struggles. Some Great Reward not only solidified Depeche Mode's position as pioneers of synth-pop but also laid the groundwork for their continued exploration of mature, provocative, and innovative musical expressions in the years to come.

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onlyheretocausechaos · 2 years

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ACCIDENTAL GOD: SERIES MASTERLIST

Series is currently ongoing!

Pairing: OT8 Ateez x Reader Fantasy AU

Synopsis: You get summoned into a fantasy world by a group of runaway misfits, (who strangely look like your favorite idols) who claim you to be an ancient forgotten War God, and they need your help to survive while being hunted down by a tyrant King.

Warnings: Heavy Religious themes, member x member, eventual smut, slow burn, gore, death, language, torture, angst, fighting, magic, mentions of past abuse, rituals, blood rituals, some obsessive behavior

Let me know if i missed anything! More warnings will be added as the story goes.

NOTHING IS BETA READ

Here is a playlist I made of songs I listen to that remind me of this story, feel free to have a listen! I will continue to add to it as I find songs. (Lyrics of songs majority of the time do not relate to the story, just the vibes of the song)

Playlist

Prologue Please read this before Chapter One!

Chapter One

Chapter Two: WIP

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kotton-kandy953 · 2 months

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━ 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚆𝙴𝙰𝙻𝚃𝙷𝚈

➛ yandere!shoto todoroki x fem!reader

❝ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ, ᴄᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ? ❞

╰⋯➤ 𝕴𝖓 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖍,

young Y/n L/n is forced into being the fiancé of youngest son of the richest family in Japan, the Todoroki's.

Wouldn't it be every girl's dream to have such an attractive and rich man to be her soon-to-be husband?

Well it's not.

Not when she already has eyes on another...

╰⋯➤ INFO ᡣ𐭩

UA University AU

Characters aged up to 19-20

Song lyrics: Handsome and Wealthy - Migos

╰⋯➤ WARNINGS ᡣ𐭩

Death

Depictions of blood/gore

Manipulation

Stalking

Violence

Yandere themes

╰⋯➤ TABLE OF CONTENTS ᡣ𐭩

𝐈 - 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

#MHA #bnha #my hero #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia fanfiction #female reader #male yandere #yandere #fanfiction #fanfic #shoto #todoroki #shotodoroki #yandere shoto x reader #yandere shoto #yandere shoto todoroki #yandere todoroki

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romana-after-dark · 3 months

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Room's on Fire: If You Could Read My Mind

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Jonah tries to tell Madonna the truth.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Extra warnings for chapter: General Madonna distress, mentions of what Ben does to Iris, what Beatriz did to Jonah and Frankie, both of whom were 19.

3.3k words (so sorry)

Support artists, like and reblog!

"If I could read your mind, love What a tale your thoughts could tell Just like a paperback novel The kind the drugstore sells When you reach the part where the heartaches come The hero would be me But heroes often fail" ~If You Could Read My Mind, Gordon Lightfoot

Jonah POV btw for this lyric

“OW!” You hiss in pain, gripping Francisco’s hand as Will removed your bandages. It was getting easier every time, but still hurt. There are a few bite marks on Ben’s arm still from the first few times, Benny letting her bite down on him instead of clenching her teeth. Babies take up a lot of your calcium, making your teeth more at risk for chips and breakage.

“I know, I know, you’re doing so good princess. Doing amazing.” Will soothes you as he cleans up, following the routine you’ve come to know. Your whole left side was burned up pretty badly from your dress catching on fire, but the worst was your arm where Pope pinned you down directly on a flame. You wondered if he got burned, if his hands bore the scars of his sins. You haven't seen him. Or Rey, Iris or Jonah for that matter, not since last week when it happened. Will said it was to maintain a sterile environment; he, Ben and Frankie all showered and wore fresh, unscented clothes, every single time. Will changed your sheets, and you were kept naked most of the time so as to not have anything irritating the skin. Bandages wrapped around your chest anyway.

Will informs you that he’s going to keep the bandages off you for a few hours while he gets suited for his new armor, letting the wounds breath and instructing you can’t be moving too much. Baely registering it all, you agree, mindlessly. The days were all blurring together at this point, long hours in bed, Ben Will and Francisco by your side at all times. Will slept on your left side, Ben and Francisco snuggled each other on your right. No sign of Pope. No mention of him, even. No apology… why would a God apologize to a mortal, part of your mind would argue… but hours and hours of laying in bed led you to think. And think. And think.

Whose is to say you were mortal? Surely, you were not divine mother’s status, nor Pope, but you were the Madonna, a holy woman. They worshiped you, didn’t they? Will had ordered your portrait displayed in the temple as well and many had your picture in their homes. When you went to children’s blessings at the schools and dormitories, they knelt to you.

You were divine, were you not? Maybe you were a God as well, Godhood being bestowed on you for creating the savior. Who was Pope to make these choices for you, to burn your reprieve, to destroy the things you love and harm your body in such a way… He claimed no more painting, the painting could harm the savior, but he burned you so severely, William had been mentally preparing you for the possibility of a miscarriage. You hadn’t your child was safe it seemed… but how could Pope take that risk?

“I have to go now, my beloved.” Will stood from where he knelt, applying aloe and silver gel to your wounds.

You look up at him, whimpering from the aftershocks of the pain. You’d been given some higher doses of painkillers to get you through; stress wasn’t good for the baby, but neither were a lot of medication. It was a balance. “Don’t go, please?”

Will had been your caretaker during all this, nursing you back to health with gentle and capable hands and assuring you that they were safe.

Francisco was your comfort, forehead kisses and reading you books to pass the time and holding the safe parts of you, eyes sad with worry.

Benjamin was your delight, bringing you Iris’s food, making you laugh and smile, beginning you with stories from before you had joined them, before you were even born.

Pope was who you saw burning in your nightmares.

Will kisses your cheek. “I know, but I won’t be long. Benny will be back before Frankie leaves, you won’t be alone. Rey is just outside.” He was so close, you wondered if you could talk to him… but after Pope’s accusation you were sleeping with him and Jonah, you didn’t wanna risk it. You weren’t really sure why Rey was guarding, honestly. The thing you feared most was Pope, and Rey couldn’t prevent him from coming in. You didn’t want him to try. He’d be dead.

You nod. “Okay… I’ll be here. Schedule is a little light today.” You joke, bringing a smile to his face.

“Good girl. Frankie, watch out for our princess and our baby. Anything changes, have Saha get me. I won’t be far.”

Frankie nods as Will gives him a goodbye kiss. Things had been… charged, this week. Sometimes you woke to the sound of muffled grunts, and for a moment you’d think it was the succubus again, but nothing touched you. You assumed they were getting each other off. Benny and Francisco were attached at the hip again, quite literally, and that made you happy.

You hear arguing outside, and all three of your heads snap towards the door. Rey and Pope.

Will is quick with his movements as Francisco squeezes your hand reassuringly, pulling a sheet over you to protect your limited modesty, although everyone in this household has seen you naked at this point. “I won’t let him hurt you, Madonna” He whispers in your ear, aiding you to sit up against the pillows, Will opening the door.

“Get the hell off him!” Will bellows, and you quickly turn to Francisco. If Rey got hurt because of you, you could never forgive yourself.

“He wouldn’t let me in, he can’t defy my orders!”

“He was following my orders, he’s my guardman, you don’t get to-”

“I AM YOUR GOD!”

“YOU ARE NOT ABOVE ME!” Voices are raised, and Will leaves the doorway, slamming Pope against the hall wall by his throat. You scream, Francisco pulling you closer, and when you look out the door you catch a glimpse of rey. He looked tired, his beard overgrown and his eyes baring dark circles. His long hair needed a brush.

Will continued. “If I remember correctly, Beatriz knocked you down to my level because you were too chicken shit to be the savior.” His tone was dark, hot breath against Pope’s face. “I’m happy to let you lead Delta, because that’s your department. But mine is the guardsmen and you can keep your fat fuck’n fingers off my men.”

There was quiet for a moment, in distinct whispering that you couldn’t understand. Then, Pope walked into the room.

You whimper, clinging to your lover as he calls “Will?”

“Let him talk.” Will grumbles, scratching his beard. “He can’t hurt’er. Just let him talk. Told him he better be gone by the time Ben’s back, or we’ll have a problem.” He shot Pope a warning stare, then left for the armory. The door closes behind you, shutting you away from Rey.

Pope turned to Francisco first. “Leave.”

You expected Francisco to obey his husband, his leader, his brother… Instead. He gripped your hand tighter. It was shaking. “No.”

Reyansh paced outside the door of your bedroom where he’d be parked, night and day. Jonah and Iris would have to drag him away, promising Jonah would guard so he could sleep… but Rey didnt really trust Jonah to protect her. Things have changed now, Jonah didn’t have a gun. No one did. But that didn’t change the fact when Jonah had a gun, he never used it. Jonah was a coward, to scared to disrupt the staus quo for fear of fucking up more than he did before.

And that was a lot.

Pope exited the room, and Rey straightened up, glaring hard at him.

Pope glared right back. “Your days are numbered, Saha. Watch your fucking mouth before I show you why your whore girlfriend jumps at loud noises.”

He was going to kill him. He was going to wring Santiago’s stupid fucking neck and make him suffer for everything he did to Iris and you. He would. He just needed a fucking plan.

Watching Santiago walk off made him feel sick.

But watching Jonah walk toward your room gave him a headache.

“Jonah, now isn’t a good time.”

“It’s been a week.” He pushed past Rey, going for the door.

It hadn’t been relocked, and Jonah and Rey stumbled in after fighting for the handle.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, he’s leaving.” Rey tries to push Jonah out, apologizing to her and Francisco, hoping Ben doesn’t see. But you say it’s okay.

Jonah watches you, a thin sheet lightly covering your naked body. He tries to push the memories of it out of his head, remembering what you looked like, sobbing in pain, your skin burnt.

“Hi.” Your soft voice breaks him out of his thoughts, looking at the way Frankie protectively holds you. Frankie had been completely distrought when he found out what happened, when Jonah road out to where he found Ben and Frankie fucking. It didn’t matter, and it had been far from the first time he’d seen any of them naked. The sex parties and orgies Francisco had been stepping away required guards too. You didn’t know about all that either, but he didn’t think you needed too today. There was more important information.

“Hey… honey I need to be honest with you.” Jonah sighs, scrubbing his face and trying to keep his cool. “I need to be honest about everything, every lie you’d been told about this fuck’n place, your dad-”

Frankie interrupted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jonah. She needs to rest.”

You turn your head to him, brows pinched together in a frown. “What? No, no I wanna know. You’ve lied to me?”

“No, no Madonna it’s just… there's so much history in this house… You’ve had quite a scare, you just talked to santi-”

He turned back to the girl who has become like his daughter. “You talked to Santi?”

Jonah watches as you swallow deeply. “Yeah he um… He apologized…”

Frankie turned to you. “He did not, he talked circles around the subject until you were too confused to argue.”

“I know what he meant!” You looked back to Jonah. “And it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

At that, Jonah groaned loudly, tugging at his hair as he began pacing the room. This was bad. You were so fucking brainwashed it was insane. “Honey, he’s fucking insane! He burned you! He raped you!”

“That’s not what happened!”

“He killed your dad!”

“My dad was a traitor to my community-”

“MARCUS LOVED YOU!”

There was silence, a dead silence that was common in this house. The kind of silence that haunts you because you can’t help but hear voices of friends vanished and gone. She needed to know.

“This place… Honey, it’s evil. There evil bred into every fiber of these walls and there's no escaping it. Violence, rape, murder, it all mark every step you could possibly take. There is nothing here that could ever give you a happy life. It would be better if this place had burned down when the rebellion happened, let us all die… That’s why your dad wanted things to change.”

“Jonah.” Frankie pleaded. “Not now.”

But if not now, when? He looked at you, and you only.

“Your dad worked with Tom, that much is true. Marcus had a big part in planning the assassination but… so did I.” He watched your eyes get wider, your mouth more agape. “Marcus and I were friends, close friends… real close, we uh… we worked together pretty much every day, spent a lot of time talk’n ‘bout our daughters… I remember when he found you, actually…starving little thing, vultures flying above you ready for you to die… he was in love, instantly. He’d do anything to protect you, so when Tom came to him with the plan to overthrow the Garcia’s, he was in. He was the one who came to me about it, knew I wanted a better life for Iris.”

You blink. “But… you were the head of the guard… why would they doubt your loyalty?”

This was the hard part, the humiliating part. The part no one but Marcus and Frankie had known before, not even Iris. He could never tell her this. “I was… a consort, to Beatriz.” That part many knew, anyone higher up in the ranks knew that. What they didn’t know was he didn’t want it. “But I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t want it. I was. I was 19 when it started, Iris wasn’t even born yet and… I was just a kid, ya know? I didn’t know how to say no, I couldn’t say no to the most powerful person I knew, especially with my wife encouraging me… She thought it would mean special blessings on her and the baby in her but… Beatriz tried to have them both killed in childbirth. I’m lucky Iris survived.” He could hear his voice beginning to crack, so he moved on.

“I hated her. I hated her so fucking much for what she did to me…”

“And to me.” Frankie spoke, voice soft and barely audible, but the girl turned to him with tears in her eyes.

“Francisco?”

He nodded. “Started when I was 19 too. She raised me… then started… that.”

Jonah continued. “She needed to die, honey. I know it’s a lot right now, but that bitch was batshit insane and no, she was no God. Neither are you husbands.”

Your face turns back to him, hardened. “Don’t say that.”

Glancing at Frankie, he knew this wasn’t the time to talk about that. Not yet. Focus. Deprogramming took time. They had an opening, although certainly he was sickened at what happened to her, it did offer them a chance.

“Tom planted Delilah with Will. He knew his type, and Delilah played the sweet, submissive girl well. She was… beautiful. She knew what she was doing. But I guess Will wasn’t the only one she was told to seduce.”

You nodded slightly. “Will told me…”

Of course he did. “I don’t know what he told you, but I loved her.”

“She was engaged.”

You couldn’t see the nuance. You couldn’t see that Will was a horrible person, that he didn’t deserve your sweet love, he didn’t deserve Delilah, that Delilah didn’t love Will… but she didn’t love him, either. She’d been sleeping with Tom the whole time. Part of Jonah still thought she loved him… but he was also aware Delilah wasn’t just a plant for Will, but for him.

“She… convinced me, to join Tom. Whatever you think of my choice doesn’t really matter-”

“But it does!” Your eyes welled with tears, and unfamiliar anger on your face. “It does matter because it changed how I think about you, Jonah! I love you!” You sit up further, but cry out in pain. Your skin is still pulled tight from the scaring. Frankie hushes you gently, laying you down and keeping your skin covered as you breathe through the pain. Jonah walks to the otherside of the bed where you face, but Frankie speaks again.

“I really need you to go. This too much for her, she’s fragile right now-”

“I’m not fucking fragile!” You shout, surprising them both.

Jonah tries to get through to you, his voice pleading with her to understand. “You see the worst in everyone who your husbands deem the enemy, without question, without second thought-”

“I trust them!”

“You should trust yourself!”

Frankie barks at him to not yell at her, but Jonah ignores him, kneeling by your side and cupping your wet face in his hands. “Look inside yourself. This anxiety you have? It’s your intuition, it’s your gut screaming at you to get out, you aren’t safe! Marcus died trying to give you freedom, freedom you threw away!”

“I had no choice!”

“Exactly!” A small window. He took it, trying too hard to not hurt your face as he held it but keeping you focussed on him, not Frankie trying to break you away. “Exactly! How can it be love if you don’t have a choice? Your father wanted to give you that-”

“Don’t talk about him!”

You were in hysterics now, snot and tears pouring down your face as you sobbed but he needed you to remember, pressing his forehead to yours. “Remember your father! Remember the tea parties and making ice cream in a bag! Remember the story times and playing horsey and pretending to fall asleep just so he’d carry you to bed! You have to remember how much he loved you or you’ll never get out of this alive!”

Jonah was thrown back, the hand fisted in his shirt throwing him into the side table. The vase full of flowers Frankie picked shattered on the ground. He head throbbed, but when he looked down his hand was bleeding. He hadn’t even noticed Frankie getting out of the bed, approaching him until Frankie threw Jonah away from his wife.

“What is wrong with you!” Frankie shouted. “She’s pregnant, she’s got half her body burned, are you trying to make her miscarry?”

“No! She needs to know the truth!”

“I can’t trust you! I can’t trust someone who sleeps with another man’s wife! Where are your boundaries, what kind of code do you have if you do that?”

Jonah groaned, not just in pain but frustration. “It wasn’t like that, it wasn’t about lust, I loved her, it was complicated-”

“Is that what Iris says when she sleeps with my husband?”

Now, yes, Jonah’s head hurts. He was disoriented. But he was sure he heard you right. Pausing, he looks up at you from the floor to where you sat up on the bed. Jonah sat up straighter as well. “What did you just say?”

Your face is angry, furious even. You don’t look like yourself but that’s good. He wants to break you out of the submissive good wife role you’ve been playing. “Yeah, your daughter is cheating on sweet, precious Rey!” You whisper harshly. Rey doesn’t know. Of course he doesn’t, because this isn’t cheating. Iris isn’t a cheater, and she hates Ben. Benjamin Miller is raping his daughter. “I walked in on them. Guess it runs in the family.” Cheating doesn’t. Being sexually abused by this fucked up cult apparently does.

Jonah gets up, determination on his face as he ignores you, ignores Frankie, and ignores Reyansh calling after him, asking what happened. He doesn’t know. If he knew, he wouldn’t just be sitting there. If he knew, he’d try to kill Ben and end up dead. He wasn’t risking Rey’s life like that, not when Iris needed him. Iris didn’t need Jonah, he was fucking useless to her… but he could make this right.

He was going to the armory, and he was going to kill Ben.

When Ben entered your bedchambers, it was clear you had been crying, body occasionally shaking as you took in a hiccuped breath but otherwise dead stared at the wall. Frankie held your naked body as best he could without harming your wounds even more.

“What the hell happened now?”

Frankie watched as he rushed to your side. What happened happened? Santi came to fuck with her brain again. Jonah made it worse. You can’t handle the vast amount of information that’s been presented to you the last… well… week. You aren’t talking, you've completely check out. He turned to Ben.

“Santi came and… apologized. It’s been a lot for her…”

Ben gave a look of understanding, carefully brushing hair out of your face as he crawled into bed with Frankie. When he snuggled up next to him, Frankie could feel his hard on. “Well, that’s good. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he just cares a lot. You know how he gets. God of passion, all that.”

Frankie could smell the sex on him. He could smell Santi on him. He pretended not to.

UH OH SPAGETTI OH'S

WERE SO BACK

So sorry it's been 5 ever, been v busy with my pride event. If you're interested in a trans reader and lots of LGBT rep (bi tess, Lesbian oc, Bill and Frank happy and in love) come read about a girl!

Thank you all for your patience!!! big thanks to Ciara for always hyping this story and thank you to Winnie for editing!!

Im so excited to hear your thoughts!!!

Did Jonah push Madonna too hard? How about Frankie standing up to Santi, even if its a small way by refusing to leave Madonna alone with him?

Poll Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh oh no oh shit oh fuck

I have absolutly NOT forgotten. About Palestine, however, I’ve had a couple of y’all. Let me know that you donated to doctors without borders for Palestine and I wanted to use my. I’ll be at limited platform to try and spread a bit of awareness. It may be raise a little bit of money for, another cause.

LOVE YOU ALL!

How to keep up with the story!

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Tags are working like SHIT these days for me and many, many others so make sure to follo wthe rooms on fire tag or my update account.

If I forgot someone or you'd like to be added/removed LMK!

#or rooms on fire #dark triple frontier #Triple frontier #Santiago Garcia #Benjamin Miller #Will Miller #Francisco Morales #santiago garcia x reader #frankie morales x benjamin miller #dark santiago garcia #will miller x reader #dark ben miller #ben miller x reader #yander triple frontier #dub con

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