Since I Have Extreme Lottie Brainrot, Could I Request A Fic About When Lottie Becomes The “messiah”

lmao rewatching season1 rn and tell me why nobody discusses the fact that jackie lost her virginity to travis on SHAUNA’S bed😭😭😭😭

EMMA D'ARCY as RHAENYRA TARGARYEN House of the Dragon (Official Trailer) | Season 2

me, watching every episode of Yellowjackets S3:

me the second i saw the golf clubs

He can I request dialogue 2 with Travis where reader is getting all sappy and shit when they settle into the cabin

🧡Cabin Fever - Travis Martinez x fem!Reader🧡

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disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: a quiet conversation at the lake...

Warnings: Convo about Periods, hurt + comfort

Word Count: 1,122

A/N: Hello Loves! I know a handful of you have wanted this, so here he is! Travis is actually a lot harder than I anticipated to write, but that could be because I'm not the greatest at writing men/boys. This turned out a lot angstier than intended, but I think we can all appreciate quality hurt/comfort now and then. Unfortunately though, pretty much all of my Travis requests have quite a hefty amount of angst in them. But that's all I'll say, so As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading! 🧡

Travis Martinez Tag List: @candylandy8173 @elliesjoints @nebulaemo

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

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It had only been a week, maybe more or less, and you were sick of the cabin. It had quickly grown overcrowded and overstimulating, so you now found every opportunity you could to leave and be outside for as long as possible. It had become commonplace for you to wander all day and not come back till nightfall. Today, however, you'd found some peace at the lake. It started as a trip to get more water for back at the cabin, only to turn into an impromptu bath and swim. You'd grown desperate for some semblance of feeling clean again. But now you'd finished and were drying off on the shore.

“You’ve been gone all day,” a rough voice said behind you, though you didn’t turn. You only shrugged, arms wrapped around your knees as the waterline lapped at the rocky terrain under you and your toes. You hadn’t felt like putting your shoes back on just yet.

“It's getting crowded over there. I need to clear my head sometimes” you mumbled, eyes transfixed on a particularly shiny stone near your feet. Travis didn’t sit beside you, choosing to stand with his hands in his pockets.

“Mind bringing me along when you get away next time?” he asked. You chuckled.

“Is all the period talk getting to be too much for you?” you looked up at him, tilting your head and covering your eyes with your hand to keep the sun away. You were starting to regret not bringing those sunglasses your mother suggested.

“What, you on it too?” he griped. After a pause, you let out a snorting laugh at him. It had your stomach churning and you had to lie down on your back, arm covering your eyes as you grinned.

“Hey, better get used to it, T-man. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a minute before we get out of here,” you heard the stones beside you shuffle as he took a seat.

“I don’t hope that’s not the case,” he mumbled. You peeked out from under your arm to get a good look at him. He looked tired and out of it. You knew Travis well. You used to play little league soccer together when you were 6. His dad had been the coach then too. Honestly, that had been the only reason you played soccer now in high school. You lost some of that relationship with him over time. It was strange, his sudden interest in you. You always thought he kind of resented you for whatever reason. He’d grown up a lot though, you noted.

“Why? Can't stand being the only man with a bunch of women? Isn't that like, every guy's dream?” you hummed, covering your eyes again. You heard him scoff and shuffle his feet on the rocks.

“Yeah, maybe, but they haven't considered what comes with being around a bunch of girls,”

“What? Travis can’t handle a little girl talk?” you teased. He sighed heavily, grumbling under his breath.

“Maybe not constant girl talk, no,” you chuckled at that some and decided to sit up again. “is that why you always leave?”

“What? Because of girl talk?” he nodded. You shook your head. “No, I'm used to it. It's just locker room stuff at this point,” Travis wrinkled his nose and grimaced.

“You talk about your periods and stuff together?” he seemed quite surprised. Your brows raised and you nodded.

“I mean, what did you think we talked about?” you could see the formings of an embarrassed blush heat the apples of his cheeks.

“I dunno, I thought you talked about boys or something. Like magazines maybe, I dunno,” you began to laugh again.

“I mean, sure, we do, but that's not all we talk about,” he continued to frown and looked away, piercing his lips.

“Whatever. I just didn’t think I’d have to hear so much about it,” he grumbled. You laughed again, looking out onto the lake with a lackluster smile.

“You sound like your dad, you know that?” you said without putting any thought behind it. Upon realizing you felt yourself cringe, sucking in a breath between your teeth. You expected Travis to throw himself into a rage, scream at you to shut the fuck up, and not mention his father, now dead a buried by the crash sight which felt long forgotten by now. But he didn’t. He stayed quiet, staring down at his shoes with a crease in his brow and a frown on his lips.

“ugh, don’t remind me,” was all he managed to say through fumbling teeth. You began to apologize but he shook his head, his eyes turning up and looking at you. “Don’t. It’s fine,” his voice faltered, letting you know that it wasn’t fine. But you weren't going to press any more than you had already. He went quiet again and you chewed at your lip.

“You know, he was a pretty shit dad,” he said eventually, his eyes transfixed on the open air of the lake. You watched, keeping your words to yourself. “I’m pretty sure he was cheating on my mom or something. I don’t know though. He wouldn’t fess up to me and no one told me what was happening,” he took a long sniff in, his lip twitching.

“I used to wish he’d just leave. Maybe then Mom would be happy. But now he’s gone, and I just-” he trailed off shaking his head with parted lips. He didn’t go on from there and you couldn't find any words, so you did the only thing you could think of and reached out, your fingertips brushing over his spin. He jumped and you hesitated, but when he looked up to meet your gaze, tears forming in his eyes with a quivering lip you couldn’t help the way your gaze softened.

You reached out your other hand, brushing your fingers over his cheek as you moved forward, hesitantly enveloping him in your arms. His nose and face found the crook where your neck met your shoulder as one of your arms snaked around his shoulder while the other slipped to cradle the back of his neck. He began to quiver in your arms. He wrapped his arms around your shoulder and waist, squeezing tight for as much support as he could get from you. You felt tears run down your shoulder, wetting your shirt as he sniffled and cried. Your fingertips tangled in his growing hair and you breathed him in as tears sting your eyes now.

“It’s gonna be ok…” was all you could muster. If you believed that or not, you didn't know, but it was what you both needed, even if it was only for a moment.

𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

headcanons.

DATING EDDIE MUNSON ; headcanons depicting what it would be like to date our beloved boy, eddie munson <3 .

fics.

THE NICKNAME GAME ; when you teasingly call eddie out for calling you ‘dude’ after having his tongue down your throat a mere five minutes earlier, your boyfriend spends the rest of your time together trying to come up with a better, more suitable nickname for you. ( coming soon ! )

A THING FOR TATOOS ; you thought it would’ve been obvious with the way your face was lit aflame when you first saw them or how you kissed the patterns of ink whenever you got the chance, but it took saying it straight to his face for your boyfriend to find out you had a thing for his tattoos. ( coming soon ! )

series.

misc.

main masterlist | stranger things masterlist

the red means i love you — frank castle

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: violence! like a lot of violence.. and detailed accounts of said violence, reader goes insane, mentions of murder, trauma, reader is a past widow for the red room, Y/N usage, kidnapping, established relationship, fluff, standard the punisher warnings.

authors note: hii theree! so this one is kind of insane, i may have went just a tad bit overboard, but y’know. thank you anon for this request that this fic is based on! this story is heavily based on the song, ‘the red means i love you’ by madds buckley, so give it a listen if you’d like. much love to you all, i hope you all enjoy this !

masterlist

You panted, your hand pulling the machete out of the last man’s chest. Your vision was still hazy, and you didn’t exactly feel like you were in your body.

But, that’s how you always felt when you killed.

As you gathered your bearings, your eyes began to dart around the room— and you realized how many men you had just taken out.

“Motherfucker,” You groaned as the pain began to set in due to the knife that was currently in your thigh. One of them must of done it when you were distracted, and your adrenaline was far too high for you to register it.

You no longer had that problem, it hurt like a bitch. But, you’ve had worse— a lot worse, and you could handle it. So you did was you were trained to do: push the emotions and pain away get the damn job done.

You had to. For Frank.

You see, he was taken by God knows who. You and Frank had no shortage of enemies, so you weren’t exactly sure who you were even invading, but you didn’t care. You knew they had Frank.

You were getting him back. You didn't care how many lives you had to take, you would do it all without second thought.

One of them had his sawed-off shotgun, they tried to shoot you with it. So you knew he was here. You just didn’t know exactly where.

And you’d go through hell and back to get to him.

So with a sharp inhale, you began to walk over to one of your victims, snatching the shotgun from his cold grip. A new sense of rage washed over you when you held the cold metal in your hands— they tried to take Frank from you.

You couldn’t let that stand.

Anger flooded your bloodstream as you began to stalk over to the hallway in front of you, cocking the shotgun along the way. You looked damn insane—you were covered in blood, a knife sticking out your thigh, your machete in one hand and Frank’s shotgun in the other.

One thing was for sure: you were out for fuckin’ blood.

You kicked open the first door you saw with your good leg, and inside were 3 men. Before they could even get a chance to react, you let the first round of bullets fly at one of them, the man dead instantly.

You narrowed your eyes at the two remaining men, putting the machete in your belt, you cocked the shotgun and aimed directly towards them. “Where the fuck is Frank.”

“I–I don’t know what you’re talking about,” One of the men stuttered out.

You scoffed, shooting that same man in the shin. “You think I’m fuckin’ playin’ around? I said, where the fuck is he?! What did you do with Frank?!” You shouted angrily, cocking the gun once more.

The man cried out, falling to his knees as his partner put his hands up in surrender. “He’s in the building..” He murmured, but you could see the man you shot reaching for the gun that the other had so obviously in the back of his pants.

Rolling your eyes, you shot the man who was still unharmed in the head. “Fuckin’ useless. I’ll find him myself.” You muttered to mainly yourself before grabbing your machete once more and stomping over to the last one.

“No, no, no!” He begged, backing away as far as he could from you. “Killing me won’t do anything. You’ll never get through all of us. You and Castle are as good as dead,” He spat and you only gave a sinister smile in return before you dove the machete into his chest.

After he was dead, you took your machete and wiped it clean of the blood before storing it back in your belt. You walked out the room without another thought as you continued your walk down the hallway, Frank’s shotgun tight in your grasp as you pointed it for precaution.

The next room you walked into contained 5 men, and then 3 after you let your itchy trigger finger take over.

3 guns were pointed at you in a instant, and you smirked in delight. "Drop them now!" He nodded towards your weapons. With a smirk still on your face, you let your machete clattered to the ground, but still kept Frank's shotgun in your hand. If you were going to die, you wanted it to happen with at least something that tied to Frank.

Staring them all down, you tried to wait for one of them to make the first strike— but eventually you got bored.

You hit one of the men over the head with the shotgun as you kicked one of the other one’s knee in. Without thinking, you grabbed the knife that was still painfully lodged in your thigh and pulled it out-- causing a sharp roar of pain to leave your lips. And with a menacing stare, you used that very same knife to slash the third man's throat.

In a flash of motions you turned to the next man and shoved the knife into his throat, causing him to stumble back with fearful eyes before dropping dead.

That left the last one that you practically bitch-slapped with the gun. He stared at you with wide, rage filled eyes before he grabbed you by your neck, throwing you into the table next to you. Your now open wound on your thigh got caught on a nail on the way, only tearing it open further. A cry of pure pain left your lips at the act, but you recovered quickly, turning to the man with a evil glare.

You let out a yell as you tackled him to the floor, letting all of your anger out as you brutally laid punch after punch to his face until he was unrecognizable. You let out another broken cry as you left one last hit to his bloodied face.

Ragged breaths left your lips as came back down to reality, shakily standing up. Your knuckles were bruised and cracked, and you knew it would hurt like a bitch later, but as of now, you really didn't care. It would all be worth it in the end. So, without another thought you grabbed your machete and the shotgun and headed out the room.

There was only one room left. It was at the very end of the hallway, and you silently prayed Frank was in there. At this point, after all the people you had just killed and fought— you were fucking tired, and quite frankly; fed the fuck up.

You cocked the gun with nothing in your brain other than bloodlust and kicked open the door harshly. “Where the fuck is he?!” You bellowed as you stormed in, gun raised. You had tunnel vision, seeing nothing over than the targets before you.

8 or 9 men were scattered around the room, and before you knew it bullets were flying everywhere. With wide eyes you dove down for cover behind a fallen table, and on the way down you were grazed by several bullets. Your hand flew up to the blood you felt trickling down your ribs, a low groan leaving your lips. You fought tears of pain as you pulled yourself together, reminding yourself of the goal: Get to Frank.

“Come out, now!” One of them yelled, and it only fueled your anger further.

“Fine.” You growled, standing up and shooting the first two men in front of you. Standing up, you ran to the side of the wall where their bullets couldn’t hit you. You let out a small laugh to yourself— you had to admit, you kind of missed this.

The chaos of it all.

You were raised in the chaos of this— you were brought up in the Red Room, killing people all around the globe. Yelena Belova, one of your fellow past widows, had broken you out some time ago and you tried to give the life up, but it seemed it was in your DNA.

Who were you to fight that?

You shook the thought away just as quickly as it arrived— you had more pressing issues right now.

You pulled the pistol out of your boot, peaking around the corner and picking off 3 men, leaving now 4.

“You fuckin’ crazy bitch!” One of them roared, running at you with a dagger.

“Fuck off!” You screamed back, blocking his attempted strike by grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm, the man now yelling out in pain. He dropped the dagger that was clutched in his hand, while you caught with your free hand, not hesitating to plunge it into his heart.

“Y/N?!” You heard that familiar voice yell, causing you freeze. His call made a soft smile spread across your features, but at the same time ignited that dedication to get to him now.

You grabbed Frank’s shotgun, cocking it and getting your pistol in your other hand. And with a devilish glare, you turned the corner and proceeded to pick off the rest of the men that remained.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you realized they were all dead. Turning on your heel, you ran to room in the back that was connected to the room you had been in, throwing open the door urgently.

“Frank,” You practically whispered. He was bound a chair by chains, his face bruised and bloodied.

“Holy shit.” He murmured, taking in your current state. You didn’t know what you looked like, but you were sure it was nothing short of horrific. You were covered head to toe in a mixture of your own blood and your victim's, wounds and bruises littering your entire body. "Christ, woman, what the fuck happened out there?" He asked with a worried tone.

You aimed your pistol at his chains. “Don’t move.” You spoke gently, yet firm. He nodded, giving you the okay to take the shot. Once you did, he was up and bringing you into his arms almost immediately.

The weapons in your hands clattered to the ground in an instant as you let yourself melt in his arms. You were exhausted. Due to your search for Frank and also just your pure anxiety in being away from him, you had barely slept in the past couple days. That definitely came back to bite you in the ass, and on top of it all, you were in a lot of pain. The kisses Frank was leaving to the side of your head made you feel a lot better, though.

You pulled back just a bit to cup his jaw, your eyes scanning his injuries. “Are you okay?”

He let out a dry chuckle before turning his hand slightly to leave a kiss to your palm. “Baby, you are in no position to be askin’ me that right now.” His hands came up to cradle to your face, and you nestled your face into his palm. "Are you okay?"

You managed to give him a smile. “I'm better now.” You let out a shaky breath. Now that you had found Frank, the pain really began to set in. You wouldn’t let yourself feel all of the pain until you knew you were safe— and you now knew that Frank had you. “They’re all dead.” You told him. "I killed them all."

“Damn,” He licked his lips, staring down at you. “And here I was thinkin’ no one was comin’ for me.”

“You should know by now I’ll always come for you.” You expressed, leaning up to connect your lips. You didn’t care if you were covered in blood, or that Frank had been tied to a chair for 2 days— you missed him.

You loved him. And you would set the world on fire for him.

Once you two pulled apart, he stared into your eyes. “I fuckin’ love you.”

You giggled softly, gazing up at him lovingly. “I love you, Frank.”

Hi! If you’re still taking requests, could you do a Lottie x reader where she gets a vision of her gf being injured so she stays by her side to protect her?

PAPER CUT

pairing: lottie matthews x reader

word count: 1238

notes and warnings: i did lottie a lil dirty in this one she is the embodiment of my anxiety in this fic. very mild TW for mentions of self harm (its just mentions of lottie cutting her hand to give the wilderness blood like in the show ykyk). also i promise i wasnt on crack writing the end of this w the cookies

It felt like you were being haunted by a second shadow.

You didn’t really mind it. You loved every second you were able to spend with Lottie. But ever since you’d gotten up this morning she’d been extra close to you, following you from room to room, sending you an excessive amount of texts to check on you between the classes you taught at the wellness center.

She had even gone with you to the farmers market, which, due to her great distaste for life outside the compound, tended to be an extremely rare occurrence. Even there she would hardly let you out of her sight, tried to carry everything for you, almost wouldn’t let you drive and volunteered to instead, which you declined. She had been off somehow, all day. Anxious.

She got like that sometimes, you noticed. Whenever she saw something or met someone that reminded her of her time in the wilderness, or her time in Switzerland. There was a need on her end to be close to you, for in solitude was when the memories came. Normally you were fine with it. It was a privilege for you to give her the comfort she desired and needed.

But somehow, you thought that today was different. It wasn’t just a desire to be close to you that had her by your side but something else accompanying it, as if she were worried about you, as if something might happen.

In the car on the way home from the farmer’s market, you’d finally had enough. She had again tried to stop you from driving, saying she was concerned about the traffic, but she had been so erratic all day that you’d seen right through the excuse.

“Lottie,” you sighed, turning the car on and turning out of the parking lot, “what’s going on with you?”

She was silent, and you looked over to see her lost in thought, and you wondered if she had even heard you.

“Lottie,” you said again.

She jumped, as if you had hurriedly woken her from sleep, and she met your gaze with slight alarm.

“Are you okay?” You asked, though you knew the answer.

“I’m fine,” she said, and even gave you a forced half-smile, and you were going to let the matter drop when you saw her tracing the scar on the palm of your hand — you knew what this always led to, the blood, the sacrifice.

You pulled the car over. You knew it was a bit of an overreaction, but the farmer’s market had been in complete chaos and with Lottie’s multiple attempts to keep you from driving, you were nearing your limit.

“Lottie,” you said with all the patience you could muster, “you need to tell me what’s wrong. Please. You’ve been following me like a shadow all day, and while I love your company always, it feels like there’s something else going on. If it involves me, I have to know, and if it doesn’t, I’d still like to know so I can help you.”

She didn’t meet your gaze, just kept tracing the scar on her hand, almost like a child. Until suddenly she did look up, finally meeting your eyes, and you could see the terrible anxiety in her gaze. “The visions came back,” she said simply.

You sighed. You never knew what to say about the visions. Part of you thought it was all in her head, that she needed to see a therapist about it, that they were delusions. But another part of you, a part of you that you tried to subdue, knew there was more to it than that. That something in the wilderness really had called to and captivated those who would listen, and that being had never truly left.

“What did you see?” You asked.

She hesitated, fingering through the slight tangles in her dark hair. “I saw you. And blood. You were cut, I think, I’m not sure. But I didn’t want you to get hurt. I think that’s what it wants, blood.” She looked down at the scar on her hand. “If I can just give it what it wants, maybe…”

You shook your head, taking her hand. “I’m going to be fine. Maybe it wasn’t a vision, maybe it was just a dream, or… I don’t know. But nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m right here. And you don’t need to give it anything.”

“You can’t know for sure,” she said, her tone becoming increasingly ominous. “You haven’t seen what happens when we refuse to give it what it wants, if it feels neglected or suppressed.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. The way she described it to you, the hunger of whatever being she believed watched her, was haunting. There was nothing you could have said to convince her that she was wrong, and part of you didn’t really even know if she was.

You took her hand, shaking your head. “Nothing is going to happen, okay? And even if something does happen, we’re prepared now, right?” You turned her hand, gesturing to her scar, which you could tell she had tampered with a little while ago. “Please don’t do this anymore.”

She attempted to protest, but saw the look you gave her, how deep your concern for her ran. She relented, nodding. “I won’t.”

You believed her, or at least as much as you could.

Attempting to lighten the mood, you reached into the backseat, pulling out a small paper bag. “Anyway, while you were going fucking ham on the macrame booth at the market, I got us these,” you said, opening the paper bag to reveal three cookies.

“Shit,” you stopped, ripping your finger away from the bag. The bag had cut your finger, had given you a paper cut. The slightest bit of blood came up out of the cut, coating it, and suddenly it clicked in your mind. “Lottie,” you said, smiling slightly, resisting a laugh. You showed her your finger, and she paused.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, and you could tell the worry she wore was dissipating. “A fucking paper cut… I had a vision of you getting a fucking paper cut.”

“Your third eye needs to chill a bit,” you teased, and she smiled, rubbing her temples. “You okay?”

Lottie nodded, chuckling. “Just give me one of those cookies.”

“I think I should have two of the three. I mean I did bleed for them, so…”

“Well, you wouldn’t have if you had listened to my warning.”

“Split the cookie?”

“What kind are they?” She asked, genuinely invested in the custody of the third cookie.

“Chocolate chip.”

She reached for the cookie. Chocolate chip was her favorite. “I think I deserve the whole thing, then.”

Quickly you took possession of the third cookie, holding it by your head, opening your mouth to take a bite.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Deciding she’d had enough of a rough day as it was, you obliged, splitting the cookie in half and giving her the half that was slightly bigger. “See, you left me alone for a little while and came back to find me with cookies. Everything was fine.”

“Yeah, but if I’d been with you, we would have gotten four cookies and we wouldn’t have had this horrible custody battle.”

“Questioning my cookie buying skills, hm? I hope there’s a paper cut in your future.”

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Taglist: @ladyveela @thedeconstructionist @cordeliass @christies-fleur @traumatisedfangirl @goodeday2u @paulsonsratched

getting that august feeling (things that have ended endlessly are ending again)

i had this dream where you were different…