#I’m crying now and my jaw fucking hurts and I hate everything

[galariangengar]

I am doing horribly mentally tonight and my jaw hurts 😢

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　TOO MUCH

chris sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt and Nick say some hurtful things to Chris during a fight, bringing his insecurities to life and causing him to turn to his anchor, Y/N.

WARNING: Insecurities, fighting, crying, anxiety attack.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The noise in the living room had escalated from playful teasing in front of the camera to sharp, biting words. Chris stood behind the kitchen table, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he glared at Matt and Nick, who were both looking at him from the other side of the table with expressions caught between frustration and exasperation.

"Do you ever think before you act, Chris?" Matt's voice was, surprisingly, raised, an edge of impatience in his tone. "We can’t get through one day without you doing something childish and making a scene, or worse, making our videos look like shit because of it!"

Chris’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately, his eyes darting between his brothers, trying to make sense of how things had gotten so out of hand.

"I wasn’t trying to do anything." He muttered finally, his voice barely above a whisper laced with hurt. "I was just... being myself."

"Yeah, exactly." Nick jumped in, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "And that’s the problem. You’re always yelling and doing the most, Chris. It’s just... exhausting, okay?"

Chris clenched his fists, jaw tight as he glared at Nick, feeling himself crumbling a bit because sure, he’s too much. Sure, he speaks too loud and had opinions about everything and wasn’t afraid to share them, even if they were about the silliest things. Sure, he feels cornered and childish and immature and annoying, and most of what they're saying is probably true, but hearing his own brothers say it out loud... it pains his heart.

"You know, that’s actually rich coming from you." He shot back, his voice carrying a frustration he couldn’t hold back, trying to disguise his pain with anger. "You’re always the first to say that people watch us because we’re different, because even though we look the same, we're still different. But all you ever do is complain that I’m not just like you or Matt!”

Nick’s expression shifted, taken aback by Chris’s words. But Nick wasn’t one to back down, his voice snapping back almost before Chris had finished speaking.

"That’s not what I’m saying at all!" He fired, eyes narrowing. "Is it so insane to want you to stop yelling and acting like a literal child in every video? We’re trying to be professional, Chris! People like us, yeah, but they won’t if you keep acting like-"

Chris dragged a hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead, trying to shut out Nick’s words, trying to drown out the overwhelming feeling of being misunderstood.

"... and we can’t keep dealing with it, Chris. Grow the fuck up."

The youngest felt his chest tighten even more. His greatest insecurity - one that clawed at his chest every night when he couldn’t sleep, when the silence around him became deafening - was now on full display, brutally brought to life by the people he trusted most.

The internet was relentless in labeling him as "the weird one", the "annoying triplet", just because he was loud and talked too much, just because he was unapologetically himself. He’d laugh it off, of course, joke about it even because it was easier to pretend it didn’t bother him. But deep down, those words haunted him, scraping at the edges of his self-worth, making him wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t enough.

And now, hearing Matt and Nick throw those same words at him... he felt hollow. Like all the air had been knocked from his lungs. They knew. They knew how those comments got to him, how hard he tried to ignore it, to rise above the criticism.

"Fine." He said bitterly, hating how his voice trembled slightly as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "I’ll get out of your way, then."

He pushed his weight off of the table, preparing himself to get out of there, but as Chris stormed away, Nick's frustration boiled over, and he turned to Matt, his voice sharp and incredulous.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He hissed, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

But Chris kept walking, his shoulders tense as he made his way to the stairs, refusing to let himself look back. His brothers’ voices felt like static at this point, blending into the background as he forced himself to keep going.

Behind him, Matt muttered under his breath, an edge of impatience creeping in.

"Why is he being so dramatic?" He called, exasperation evident in his tone. "Chris, just come back, man! Let’s finish this video."

But Chris didn’t even slow down. Each word felt like salt in a wound he was struggling to ignore, a constant reminder that he wasn’t on the same level as them, that they were all looking at him like he was the problem.

Maybe he was.

As he went down the stairs, his mind was racing, every emotion simmering just below the surface.

His hands trembled slightly as he reached his bedroom door, a mix of anger, shame, and sadness twisting in his chest, his breath hitching as he struggled to keep it together. He wanted to scream, to push all the hurt away.

Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Y/N - curled up on his bed with notebooks spread around her and laptop balanced on her knees - looked up instantly, a huge smile spreading across her face as she noticed him, her expression so genuinely happy to see him that it made his heart ache even more.

"Hi, honey! How was filming?" She greeted brightly, unaware of the turmoil written across his face.

But her smile faltered quickly as she took in his red-rimmed eyes, the way his face seemed almost haunted, his body tense and trembling as he stood frozen in the doorway. She blinked, worry flashing across her features.

"Chris? Hey, what happened?" The girl whispered, and her words were like a lifeline, breaking the dam he’d tried so hard to keep in place.

She was quick in put her work together, placing her notebooks and laptop gently onto the floor beside her, leaving it all opened for her to come back to it later, her arms instinctively opening up to him.

"Come here, baby."

Without another thought, Chris crossed the room and collapsed into her open arms, sinking onto the bed as if the weight of the world had become too much for him to bear alone.

His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his face burrowing into her shoulder as if he could somehow hide from everything that had been clawing at him. His legs slid between her thighs, his body curling into hers, every part of him drawn in close, seeking refuge in the only place that felt safe.

Y/N didn’t say anything at first. She could feel the way his shoulders shook, the silent sobs racking through him as he tried to hold back, his breath catching painfully against her neck. She held him even tighter, her hands slipping up to cradle the back of his head, her fingers threading gently through his fluff hair as she pressed soft, reassuring kisses to his forehead, his temple, anywhere she could reach.

"Shh... It’s okay, sweetheart." She murmured softly, pressing her lips to his line of hair. "I'm here. You're safe. Just breathe, Chris. Just breathe, baby."

But Chris felt anything but safe in his own skin. Shame and hurt twisted inside him, tightening like a vice around his chest. He tried to fold himself even smaller, curling tighter into her, trying to somehow look smaller for a 5'8 grown man, pressing his body as close to hers as he could.

He wanted to disappear, to melt into her embrace, and let the world live freely without his presence. The words Matt and Nick had thrown at him - the very same words he read online, the labels he was used to brushing off - felt so true, so much a part of him that he couldn’t deny them.

Childish. Annoying. Immature.

He hated himself in that moment, hated how much he cared, hated how the words dug under his skin, making him feel unworthy, unloved.

"Am I... am I really that annoying?" He whispered, his voice cracking and sounding more horse than it should. "Do you... Do you think I’m too much, too?"

Y/N’s heart twisted painfully as she heard his words, the broken way he spoke them. She frowned deeply, pulling back just enough to look down at him, her hand cupping his wet cheek as she met his gaze, her thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down his face.

"Oh, sweetheart..." She shook her head gently, her voice laced with disbelief and fierce love. "No. No, Chris, of course not. You’re not annoying. You’re not too much. You’re everything I could ever want. You’re perfect exactly the way you are."

He clenched his fists, gripping onto Y/N’s hoodie - or better, his own blue hoodie -, his knuckles white with the force of it as he tried to agree with her, but her words didn’t seem to reach him. His brow furrowed, his eyes filling with fresh tears as he choked out.

"They said... They said I’m always yelling, being loud, making a scene... like I’m always... embarrassing them." His voice caught on the last words, his breath hitching as he fought to keep from breaking down completely.

Y/N held him tighter, her hand moving to the bottom of his white shirt, traveling inside of it only to rub soothing circles along his naked back as she spoke in a soft, steady tone, hoping her words would anchor him.

"Chris, they love you. They’re just... they don’t understand how much their words hurt sometimes. But that doesn’t mean you’re a burden or that you’re too much. You bring so much joy and energy to everything. That’s part of who you are, and it’s one of the things I love most about you."

He shook his head slightly, his breathing coming faster as anxiety started to build again, overtaking him.

"I... I just don’t get it. One minute, they’re saying people watch us because we’re different... and then they tell me I should be more like them. I don’t... I don’t know how to be that. I tried so hard to be like them, you have to believe me, but I don’t know how to change who I am-"

Y/N felt the depth of his frustration in the desperate way that he begged, wanting - no, needing - her to believe him. She cupped his face gently, urging him to look at her.

"You don’t have to change, Chris. Not for anyone. You’re enough just as you are, baby. And you’re not a burden. Not to me, not to anyone who really sees you and loves you for who you are."

He nodded slowly, finally trying to take a deep breath, only to feel like his nose was closed and his throat was being chocked by invisible hands. He closed his eyes forcefully, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he tried to breathe in a gulp of air that never seemed to be enough. Chris could feel his heart tightening, his chest struggling in the quick movements of going up and down too many times in a second.

"Can't- I... Please-" He tried, tightening his hands around her hoodie, panicking with the anxiety attack that seemed to come so suddenly.

"Hey, hey, Chris. Sweetheart, you’re okay." Y/N whispered softly, her voice a calming presence against the storm inside him. She shifted slightly, one hand now resting on his chest with a firm press as she guided him through deep breaths, her own voice slow and steady. "Come on, just breathe with me, okay? In... and out... Nice and slow. I’m right here with you."

Following her lead, Chris pressed his eyes tighter in a way that made him see stars behind his eyelids, focusing on the rhythm of her voice, the rise and fall of her own breathing against his fists. With each exhale, he felt a bit of the tension release, his chest loosening as he tried to match her calming breaths.

Gradually, his racing heart began to slow, the adrenaline draining from his body, leaving him feeling heavy, exhausted.

Y/N smiled softly, brushing her fingers through his hair as she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"There you go. That’s it... Well done, my strong boy. Now, just relax. I’ve got you."

As his breathing evened out, Chris opened his eyes slowly, his blurred gaze meeting hers with a vulnerability that tore at her heart.

"You don’t have to carry all of this alone, Chris. I’m always here for you, no matter what. You’re safe with me, okay? I love you... so much." She leaned down, pressing another kiss to his forehead as she held him close, her voice soft.

The gentle reassurance, the quiet love in her words wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him further into her warmth. His eyelids grew heavier, the tiredness finally catching up with him as he let himself surrender to the comfort of her arms, a quiet whine escaping his throat.

"I know, honey. Sleep." Y/N whispered, a tender smile on her lips as she cradled him closer, holding him like a mother would hold her kid, her hands tracing soothing patterns along his back. "You can rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up."

As she continued to whisper soft reassurances, her fingers running gently through his hair, Chris’s breathing finally evened out, his body relaxing completely in her arms. His head rested on the curve of her neck, his arms still wrapped around her waist as he drifted off, his pain and worries slipping away in the safety of her embrace.

Y/N leaned down, pressing one last, lingering kiss to his hair before laying her cheek against his head, her arms wrapped securely around his body as she watched over him.

"I love you, sweet boy."

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A couple of hours had passed, the sunsetting casting a soft, warm light over Chris’s room, where he and Y/N lay wrapped together on the bed. Chris’s face was nestled against her shoulder, his breathing steady and calm now, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

Outside the room, Matt and Nick exchanged a glance. They’d been standing in the hallway for nearly five minutes, trying to muster the courage to knock. Their earlier argument with Chris had weighed heavily on both of them, guilt twisting in their stomachs as they replayed every hurtful word that had left their mouths.

Finally, Matt raised his fist and knocked softly on Chris’s door, the faint sound echoing in the silence. When there was no answer, he hesitated, glancing at Nick before slowly pushing the door open.

They both froze at the sight before them. Chris and Y/N were curled up together on the bed, Chris’s face still damp from tears as he lay against her, completely relaxed in her arms. Y/N had one arm around his shoulders, her fingers resting in his hair, while her other hand was hiding inside his shirt, holding his back, cradling him protectively. They looked peaceful.

Matt’s heart clenched at the sight, guilt intensifying as he took in Chris’s tear-streaked face. He glanced over at Nick, who was staring down at his feet, clearly feeling the same crushing remorse.

"Let's go. We can come back later." Matt muttered, pulling Nick towards himself before starting to back out of the room, thinking it might be best to give Chris a bit more time.

But just as they were about to close the door, Chris stirred, shifting slightly in Y/N’s arms. He nuzzled his head on her shoulder, his face just inches from the gentle slope of her neck where he could still catch the faint, familiar scent of her perfume mingling with the natural warmth of her skin.

He moved slightly, careful not to wake her, though his movement caused her to pull him in closer, her fingers instinctively brushing over his back. The feeling of her hand tracing small, soothing circles over his shoulder as if it was a muscle memory grounded him further, coaxing a soft sigh from him as he nuzzled deeper into her embrace, pressing a gentle, barely-there kiss to her neck.

When his sleepy eyes finally traveled around the room while gently stretching his legs between hers, he finally caught Matt and Nick's figures standing in the doorway.

His face fell the instant he realized they were there, his peaceful expression replaced by a guarded, distant look. Carefully, he eased himself up, making sure not to wake Y/N as he pulled himself away from her arms.

"Came for round two?" He looked at Matt and Nick, his sleepy voice laced with bitterness as he asked.

Nick swallowed, words catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right thing to say. What an irony. He opened his mouth but only managed to mumble, stumbling over his words as he tried to get them out.

Finally, Nick took a small step closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Chris, I... we came to say... We just..." His pearly teeth caged his bottom lip momentarily, taking a deep breath. "We love that you’re different."

Chris stared at him, incredulous, eyebrows raised as he scoffed softly.

"Different? That’s what you’re leading with?" His eyes narrowed, hurt simmering just beneath the surface. "So now I’m the ‘different’ one? Funny, ‘cause that didn’t seem to be a good thing a few hours ago."

Nick faltered, his face flushing as he realized his words weren’t coming out the way he intended. He tried again, tripping over his explanation.

"No, no, I... I didn’t mean it like that. I just-"

Chris took a deep, shaky breath, his gaze lowered as he avoided Nick and Matt's eyes, interrupting Nick.

"Look, I want to apologize, alright?" He started, his voice barely more than a murmur, thick with emotion. "I know it was all my fault and that I’m a lot to handle. I get it. I can be too loud, too... everything, really. And I know I’m not like you guys. I’ve tried so hard to be, but it’s just... not me." His words hung heavy in the room, his fingers twisting anxiously in his lap. "I feel like sometimes I just ruin things because I don’t know how to turn it off. You two seem to have this balance, you know when to joke and when to be serious, and I’m over here just... always pushing things too far."

He exhaled deeply, finally lifting his eyes to meet his brothers', the weight of insecurity and years of self-doubt written all over his face.

"I’m sorry if it feels like you have to put up with me. I’ve tried to be more like you, but it’s never enough. And sometimes... it just feels like who I am isn’t what anyone wants." His voice cracked at the last words, his vulnerability laid bare, and he quickly looked away, bracing himself for whatever they would say.

Nick and Matt shared a look, each seeing the guilt mirrored in the other’s eyes as Chris’s words sank in, cutting through them like a blade.

Matt felt his chest tighten, a pang of regret settling heavily in his stomach, making it hard to breathe. How could he have let Chris - his little brother, the boy who was always loving him no matter what - believe, even for a second, that he wasn’t wanted exactly as he was?

His legs moved on instinct, carrying him back into the room before he even registered it, straight to Chris, who looked so small and hurt, slumped at the edge of the bed. Kneeling down, Matt reached out, placing a steadying hand on Chris’s knee, his fingers gently pressing into his brother’s skin as if trying to ground him.

"Chris, you’re our little brother. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re too much for us." He swallowed, his voice wavering as he continued, willing Chris to see and feel every word. "I love you, man. We love you for who you are. You don’t need to change a thing. It’s your energy, your spark that makes everything better. You have this way of bringing life into everything, and that’s something I wouldn’t change for anything." He looked into Chris’s eyes, his own gaze filled with a raw honesty. "We need you to be you, Chris. No one else."

Nick’s heart clenched as he watched, his own guilt building with every second. Gaining control over the hurt and regret flooding him, he crossed the room in long strides, dropping down beside Matt. He looked up at Chris, his throat tight with emotion, the sight of his little brother so closed-off, so wounded, cutting deep. He was supposed to protect him, not hurt him.

"Yeah... you being another person? That’s not what we want at all. We’ve never wanted you to be anyone else. You’re perfect the way you are, Chris." Nick’s voice shook, filled with a determination to make Chris understand the truth, to undo every careless word he and Matt had thrown his way earlier. "I'm so, so sorry that we said all of those things and made you think so bad about yourself."

Chris’s defenses wavered, his resolve crumbling as he glanced between his brothers. Their sincerity seeped through, but doubt still clouded his gaze. He let out a heavy sigh, loosening his grip on his hoodie just a bit.

"You promise?" His voice was barely a whisper, fragile and laced with uncertainty, his fingers twisting anxiously into the fabric of his sleeve.

Without hesitation, Nick reached forward, taking Chris’s hands in his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezing firmly.

"We promise. We love how wild you are, how you’re always the one bringing the energy. You’re louder, sure, but that’s not something bad, it's exactly what makes you, you. You’re the happiest out of the three of us, Chris, and we wouldn’t change that for anything." He gave Chris’s hand another reassuring squeeze, feeling the smallest hint of relief when he saw the younger brother begin to relax, if only slightly.

Matt nodded, adding gently.

"And hey, I don’t think we need to be professional or act in a type of way for our videos to be good. The viewers love us for who we are... the mix of chaos and calm. That’s what makes us, us. It’s why they stick around."

Chris took a shaky breath, letting their words settle over him, feeling the weight of them begin to ease some of the pain. Slowly, he nodded, his fingers curling back around Nick’s reassuring grip.

"Okay."

Matt leaned forward, placing a hand on Chris’s shoulder.

"We’ll do better, alright? We’re brothers. We’re gonna mess up, but that doesn’t mean we won’t have each other’s backs. Always."

Chris exhaled deeply, finally letting the tension melt away as he leaned into their touch, the comfort of his brothers grounding him in a way only they could. Straightening himself, he managed a small, tired smile, his heart feeling a bit lighter.

"Yeah... always."

"Well, I’m really glad you guys are okay again." Y/N’s soft voice broke the silence, bringing all three heads up in surprise.

She moved with a quiet strength as she sat up and brushed her hand tenderly through Chris’s hair, watching his face light up as he realized she’d been awake all along.

"But just so we’re clear... if either of you hurt my baby like that again, you’re going to have to answer to me." She turned her gaze to Nick and Matt, a playful but fierce glint in her eyes.

"Y/N..." Chris dragged the last letter of her name in a whining tone, feeling flustered with how she called him 'her baby' in front of his brothers - even though they were more than accustomed with it.

Nick’s eyes widened jokingly with her threat, a chuckle escaping him. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, glancing at Matt as if to say, 'Well, we better watch out'. Matt nodded, eyes a bit sheepish, scratching the back of his neck.

"Alright, alright, no more ganging up on Chris. You have our word, Y/N."

Content with their promises, Y/N turned her attention back to Chris, opening her arms and pulling him into her embrace once more. He let out a soft sigh, sinking into her warmth, his head nestled against her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him protectively, fingers tracing soothing circles along his back as she whispered.

"I told you they didn't mean it." He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him, the last bits of hurt melting away.

Nick and Matt watched the two of them, a fondness softening their expressions.

"You know." She murmured, pulling Chris's head away from her chest and looking at him with a mischievous grin. "You’re pretty lucky to have all of us wrapped around your finger."

Chris laughed, a real laugh this time, the sound full of relief and love.

"Yeah, I know. I just... I guess I forget sometimes."

"Well." Nick started, squeezing Chris’s shoulder with a grin. "We’re not going anywhere. So next time, just remind us if we’re being idiots, alright?"

Chris nodded, glancing gratefully at each of them, feeling more grounded and cherished than he had in a long time.

[httpscomexe]

I’m just now becoming obsessed with Logan after the Deadpool Wolverine movie and I need more fics!!

Logan and Wade protect the reader at all costs bar from some asshole then realise she’s too drunk to drive herself home?? Some smut 🥹🥹

Drunken Force

Wade x Reader x Logan

2595 words

WARNINGS: P in V, smut, non-con, rape, Somnophila, crying, double penetration, some comfort, kidnapping, alcohol, language. Use of the word "Retarded" to describe a drunk man.

MINORS DNI

You fall to the concrete, the bouncer's hands finally leaving your arms as he throws you out. Apparently, there’s a new drinking limit, and you obviously weren’t very happy about it, then caused some big ass scene because you couldn’t get another shot of whiskey.

So now here you were, looking stupid as you wobble to get back to your feet, immediately having to hold onto the hood of some stranger's car in order to keep yourself up, but you let go of it to look back at the bouncer who shakes his head at you, making you giggle. Fuck today was horrible. Your friends all fucking hated you and you weren’t sure why, and you fucked up one of your missions at work. Now you couldn’t just drink everything away. Oh, and to add to the problems. You take your phone out of your pocket. The asshole of a bouncer fucking broke it when he threw you to the ground, so now you couldn’t even call an uber. Fucking shit.

“Hey, beautiful.” Ew. The voice makes you turn around. Some ugly ass drunk dude walks towards you, and even in your drunk state, you want nothing to do with him, so you just ignore him and walk away, stumbling towards the wall to keep yourself up. “Oh come on baby.” You hear him jogging lightly to stop you, grabbing your arm and turning you around. “I just wanna have some fun with a beautiful babe tonight…” He holds your waist and walks you until your back is against the wall. You would’ve already broken his fucking jaw if you weren’t drunk right now. “I gotchu baby…” His words are slurred, making him sound absolutely retarded, and his breath was revolting as his hot nasty breath fanned over your face, making you turn away and gag, you would’ve actually thrown up if his hand didn’t shoot up and force you to face him.

“Get the fuck off of me.” You finally mumble. You knew you probably wouldn’t be able to overpower the asshole drunk, but it never hurt to try. Well. It might hurt a little.

“Bad words for such a cute little mouth.” That’s not hot dude. “It would look a lot better around my cock.” He tries to reach up and touch your lips, but you suck your lips in and turn your head again. His nasty fucking hands aren’t touching shit.

“I said, get the fuck off of me.” Your voice is more stern this time, hoping that somewhere in his fat head he would back off. But nope. Instead, he has the fucking audacity the backhand you, not very hard since he was drunk, but it still made your head turn.

“This is the part where you shut the fuck up, and I fuck you right here on this fucking wall.” He growls into your ear.

“Just leave me alone dude.” You look back up at him. You’ve gotten many worse threats in your line of work. It wasn’t exactly for the weak to be a mercenary.

He scoffs. Oh I’m sorry was that fucking funny? Your face contorts in anger, and just as you're about to go off on him, another voice takes the show.

“She said to leave her the fuck alone.” You look over the asshole's shoulder, and behind him are two men, both were tall and definitely hot that was undeniable. But one was wearing some kind of costume. Red and black with white little eyes

“You dude, and you are not hot enough for a babe like that.” The other guy, the one wearing a costume, makes a circle movement with his hand towards you, and the asshole fucking speaks up again, his voice revolting enough to make you gag again.

“Just mind your own fucking business, cocksuckers.” He turns around on the last word, and you think his nasty mouth is about to touch your lips, but instead his hand collides with the wall next to your head, hard. Then he’s pulled away from you, the larger man had his hand fucking pulling the dudes hair as he threw him to the ground, and you stayed plastered to the wall.

“Wanna keep running your fucking mouth asshole?”

“Uh oh, daddy is not happy.”

“Dude what the fuck! She’s my girlfriend!” Ew what no the fuck you are not.

“No the fuck I ain’t” You chuckle, the alcohol in your body turning it into a giggle, and the man with the beard has his eyes land on you.

“Look dude, say one more word, and I’m just gonna shove this down your throat,” He pulls a gun out of a holster on his costume, “And I’m gonna fucking shoot you.” The asshole finally get up to his knees, then stands up, taking one last look at you before finally fucking leaving.

“Are you alright?” One of the men walked up to you, and you hoped to God he wouldn’t touch you, you felt nasty enough, even if this guy was a fucking God.

“Yea. I’m okay, thank you.” You tell him, taking a step forward and losing your balance still fucking drunk and you fall into the costume dudes arms as he catches you.

“Hope you’re not driving like that.” You shake your head.

“Was gonna walk.” You stand straight again, still wobbly as you do.

“Yea I don’t think so.” Excuse you? “You can barely stand, what makes you think you can walk home, especially with an asshole like that around?” He nods in the direction the drunk man went. You close your eyes for a moment, a ringing sound in your head that makes you wanna puke causing your brain to throb.

“Well, I can’t call an uber, the bouncer broke my phone when he threw me out.” You shrug, and shift a little while standing, causing you to lose your footing again, but this time the costume dude was ready to catch you.

“How about we take you home instead?” The man offers as he holds you, and you can feel the look he gives the bigger man. “Cause Logan, clearly this little bunny can’t walk home, there’s a fox on the loose, haven’t you watched Zootopia?”

“You mean the movie where everything was fine in the end?” Logan asks. “Not the best movie to compare to the situation. But if she would like a ride.” He looks down at you, still being held by the costumed dude. “Then yes Wade, we can take her home.” Wade and Logan.

You nod a little. “That would be awesome, but you guys aren’t like… serial killers or anything right?” Your words slur a little, and Wade speaks behind you.

“Uhhh well.” He looks up at Logan. “Yes, and no.”

“That works.”

They take you to their car, Wades arm around you as he walks you and helps you into the back of a rusted red pick up truck and you feel your back pocket get lighter as he puts you in, but as soon as the engine starts, your eyes feel heavy, and you fall asleep with your head leaning on a window, only one thought in your mind. They don’t know your address.

When you wake up, sore you might add. Well, you didn’t expect to wake up. But you do, and you actually shoot up. Realising you’re definitely not in your home for one, and then two you were on a couch, but you relax a little, remembering you didn’t tell the guys your home address last night, and assuming they’d take you home once they woke up, so you lean back, hugging your knees to your chest, your brain throbbing with a headache.

“Do you need anything?” You flinch, one of the men from last night standing next to the couch, only wearing pyjamas, low enough to see his V line but you immediately look away.

“Uh, no. I’m sorry about last night, and I fell asleep before I could… Tell you my address.” You only just realised how fucking stupid you sounded, making you shrink into yourself.

“You’re alright bunny, figured you could stay here anyways.” Stay? That didn’t sound right.

“Oh, is my little girl awake?” Little fucking girl? You hear Wade's voice, before he’s standing opposite of Logan. Logan on your left, Wade on your right, also only wearing pyjamas. Just with unicorns on them. And your heart starts to panic. Why the fuck would drunk you let this happen? You’d have to talk to yourself later and put yourself down to fucking forgive yourself later. If there is a later.

“She is, looking a lot better too.”

“She looks amazing in my shirt.” What- You look down, you’re wearing a white shirt with a fucking unicorn on it, and only then do you realise you’re also not wearing anything fucking else.

“I better have at least been awake.” You try to lighten the mood, then Logan sits next to you, his hand gently squeezing your thigh.

“You were.”

“For the most part.” Wade adds. But regardless, they still fucking raped you, and you were acting much calmer than you should’ve been.

“And we woke up nice and early, just so you’d be more awake this time.” His finger gently moves a strand of hair out of your face, but that sentence was apparently enough to trigger you, and you start to move off the couch.

“No, I think I’ll actually be going now.” Your voice is higher than normal, and as you stand, Wade has made his way in front of you, and his palm lands on your chest before he pushes you back down.

“It wasn’t a question, peanut.” He tells you, then makes his way down to straddle your lap, and you feel Logan's lips suddenly attach to the skin on your neck, making your eyes widen as you try to lean away from him, but Wade keeps you steady by leaning down and kissing the other side of your neck.

“Please… stop.” You whine, then start to try pushing at him but he’s a fucking brick and he just leans in closer, and you feel Logan bite you gently as you start to struggle.

“Just relax, let us take care of you. It’s the least you can do considering we helped you last night.” Wade tells you, getting off of you and picking you up with a vice grip as he carries you away from the couch and Logan follows, getting on top of you the second you’re thrown onto a bed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’d already be fighting these assholes if you knew you would be able to, but they’d probably be able to snap you like a fucking twig.

“Oh, fuck.” A moan escapes your throat as Logan moves down and you leave your thoughts as he sucks your clit into his lips gently before licking your hole, Wade crawling on top of you, his own lips attaching to yours. And it was already too much.

Wade sucks the fucking life out of you with the most starven kiss you have ever fucking experienced, leaving you breathless as Logan worked on making you cum, at some point causing you to moan into Wades mouth as he pumps his fingers into you. And you were sure you looked a fucking mess with Wades hickeys decorating your neck in purple and red marks on your hips from the fucking grip hes had on you, trying to keep your hips steady as you tried to rock yourself against Logan, coming closer to your finish with every second that passed.

And finally as you do cum, your moans silenced in Wades lips, you hear Logan say something, but you don’t hear it as you finally get to catch your breath, Wades mouth leaving yours before he sits up, wasting no time as he leans back against the bedframe with your back against his front, and you feel his hands moving around as he’s making you straddle him before he pushes himself into you with no warning, erupting another moan from your lips as he pulls you back against his chest, and your left to watch Logan as he also his removes his cock from his pants and it hits his stomach as he kneels in front of you. Whispering shit you could barely hear into your ear but it still makes you whine as his lips touch yours, kissing you like he fucking hated you before his hands took hold of your thighs, the lack of recent movement helping you think.

“You sure we’ll both fit?” You hear Wade behind you, but you still aren’t conscious enough to even comprehend the meaning behind his words.

“I’ll make sure we do.” Was all Logan said before moving you with Wade still inside of you, him moving with you until you’re both comfortable and Logan's fingers making their way back into your cunt, stretching you impossibly further. “You’re being such a good fucking girl.” and “Can’t believe you tried telling us no.” Were only words that fell on your deft ears.

A sort of scream erupting from your throat as he gets closer to you, trying to push into you and you swear you feel something warm trickle down between your bodies as he manages to shove himself inside of you, you assume it’s blood, considering your current fucking position as Logan pulls out a little, then slams back into you, causing another scream to come from your throat, tears starting to fall from your eyes and your hands move up to Logans shoulders as you try to push him off of you.

“Hey, hey.” He groans, but his voice is soft as his hands move up to hold your face, squishing your cheeks a little as he stares into your eyes, his look was almost comforting and it probably would’ve soothed you more if you were being fucking torn in half. “Just breathe okay.” He mumbles slightly, his lips hovering over yours as he gently runs small circles over the sensitive spot under your ear, slowly pushing the rest of himself inside of you, but it’s not as painful as your breathing matches his, eventually, after feeling him move a little more inside of you, the pain does go away. “See? It’s gonna feel so good, just relax.” He tells you, then you feel Wades hips begin to jerk, slower than Logan’s as they both fuck you, Logan’s pace eventually picking up, and Wade takes his turn to whisper into your ears, but you don’t hear it. Your body feeling tired and stressed as they both violate you.

With Logan kissing you, and Wades sweet words, eventually you do reach your edge, moaning into Logan’s mouth as they feel your walls tighten around them, groans emitting from both of their throats as you’re still sandwiched between them.

Then the room is filled with moans, yours being the loudest, then they both move, and you feel hollow without them inside of you, but worry crosses your eyes as you see a trail of blood leave you as Logan pulls out, and Wade lifts you gently off of him. Placing you down next to him and you look stupid out of your mind as you immediately lean down on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed but you see Logan pulling his pyjamas back up as he moves to sit on your other side, kissing the top of your head.

“Can we keep her?” Wade asks him.

“Yes, we can keep her.”

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Pregnant with Patrick’s Daughter (Challengers)

Description: Y/N is pregnant with Patrick’s baby but she’s with Art.

Word Count:986

Request: "Maybe something with a pregnant reader and like Patrick’s the dad. It could be fluff or angst, idk I’m just curious to see how the dynamic between Patrick and like his child would be lol!”

Author’s note: I added a twist in it. Hope you like it!

Y/N looked down at the pregnancy test in shock. Her and Patrick used protection or did they? She honestly couldn’t remember but this was bad news. She was with Art and fucking Patrick. Though she knows that it’s not Art’s kid because he’s been too busy with Tennis to even fuck her. Art would know that the kid wasn’t his, especially if the kid looks like Patrick. Truth be told, Y/N loved Patrick and she also loved Art. It was hard for her to choose between them when they both wanted her as well. She looked at the engagement ring that was placed on her finger. She twirled it and played with it as she thought of what she was going to do. 

Art was practicing for his match today so Y/N called Patrick. The two weren’t friends anymore which made the situation worse. He thought she wanted to have sex again so he kissed her hard as soon as she opened the door. She pushed him back and he gave her a confused look. “We need to talk.” She said, he nodded and followed her to the kitchen. “Take a seat.” She demanded. “Ohh I love it when you get all dominant with me.” He smirked. She gave him a look and his smirk dropped. “Listen I don’t know what to do about this or why I'm even telling you at this point but I’m pregnant.” His jaw drops at her words, “And it’s yours because Art and I haven’t had sex in awhile.” He got up from the chair and pulled her in for a hug. “That’s great. I’m gonna be a dad.” He whispered. She pulled away from the hug, “Patrick, I’m with Art. He’s not gonna be happy about this.” Patrick didn’t really care. He hated Art for taking Y/N from him. That pathetic bastard got everything he wanted. “Well he’s not gonna wanna be with you since you’re carrying another man’s baby. My baby to be exact.” She glared at him. Of course he’d be happy about this. He hated Art. 

“What?” Art screeched as he stood up from the couch. It didn’t make sense why Patrick was here but now it did. “Art, I’m sorry this isn’t how I wanted you to find out.” She tells him. Patrick had a proud smirk on his face. “Found out what? That you’re fucking my ex best friend and having his baby?” Y/N looked at him with a guilty expression. She really did feel bad. “Art it’s hard for me.” She said with tears in her eyes. “You’re crying? You’re fucking my ex best friend and you’re crying?” He yelled. “Art, I love you both.” Patrick didn’t know that she loved him, nor did Art. “What?” Patrick whispered at her confession. “I love you both and I know that you guys hate each other but I can’t live without you guys.” She said, tears still streaming down her face. Patrick stood up and looked at Art who looked so broken at the news. Y/N’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “Art, please say something.” She begged her fiance. He shook his head and laughed. Both, Y/N and Patrick looked confused. “Get the fuck out!” He told them. “Art, please-” “Get the fuck out!” He screamed at her. 

She laid in Patrick’s bed with tears streaming down her face. Her belly bigger and full with Patrick’s baby. It’s been 6 months since Art kicked her out. He hadn’t spoken to either of them, not that she thought he would. He had the right to be upset with her. She cheated on him and got pregnant. But it still hurt her a lot, she loved them both and it was selfish that she felt sad because she had Patrick. But she wanted both. The front door opened and she quickly wiped her tears. Patrick made his way to the bedroom to see Y/N and her tummy full of his baby. He smiled at the sight. She saw him enter the bedroom and smiled at him. He came and collapsed on the bed next to her. He turned towards her and stared at her stomach. “I can’t wait til she’s born.” He said and placed his hand on her tummy. She smiled and agreed with him. She placed her hand on his and the baby kicked. They both gasped and looked at each other. This was the first time they baby kicked for Patrick. Tears started forming in his eyes as he smiled. “I finally felt her kick.” Y/N nodded and ran her fingers through his hair. 

Y/N watched as Patrick gave their 4 year old daughter a racket. She chuckled as their daughter kept dropping it but everytime Patrick gave her it again. He was so patient with her and so sweet. It made Y/N’s heart melt. She giggled as their daughter almost hit Patrick with the racket. He looked at his wife and smiled at her. She got up from her seat and walked over to them. “Try not to kill daddy, sweetheart.” She joked. Their 4 year old giggled and gave the racket to Y/N. Y/N took it and melted when she ran into Patrick’s arms. Patrick smiled and hugged her back. Y/N felt happiness in her life, ever since their daughter was born. She didn’t think of Art anymore, unless she saw him on the news. He was a pro tennis player like Patrick and he married Tashi Duncan. She was happy for him, truly. “Hey uh I guess now would be the time to tell you that I’m playing in the challengers and Art will be there.” Her smile dropped at his name. She had a bad feeling about this and almost told him not to go. But she would be by his side with their daughter to support him. She wouldn’t let Art being there ruin this for them.

[girlsdads]

maxiel; post-silverstone quali hurt/comfort, mild sexual content, ~900k

Steam is already curling out from under the bathroom door by the time Max returns to the suite. They’d ridden together that morning, but he’d left his debrief and found his motorhome empty. Some poor VCARB hospitality worker had been faced with Max’s frustrated disappointment upon hearing Daniel had already called a car. Another thing to hate about this year. Max can count on one hand the times Daniel’s made it out of Q2. It makes him want to run every other car off the track next time—he’d gladly take one million penalties if it meant Daniel got to sail right through.

He shimmies out of his jacket, drapes it over the back of one of the starkly modern chairs arranged in a stupid little seating area near the door. Rainwater drips onto the cushion, oddly satisfying. He thinks about Daniel in the hot, hot shower, washing the chill from his bones. Max himself doesn’t mind the weather much, but he could rip the clouds from the sky with how the rain makes Daniel shiver and shrink.

Max sheds his shirt next, tossing it onto the still unmade bed. Kicks his shoes off, hops from one foot to the other peeling his jeans down his legs. He’s naked by the time he enters the bathroom, the humid air heavy on his skin. He can see Daniel’s lovely silhouette through the steam, the strong lines of his back down to the gentle curve of his soft hips. He’s got his forearms pressed to the wall, head ducked and resting on his clasped hands. He doesn’t startle when Max opens the glass door and steps in behind him.

Inside the spacious stall the air feels thicker, almost suffocating. Daniel’s curls are flat to his forehead and his skin is flushed pink. He’s been in here for a long time already, Max can tell.

“Daniel,” Max touches the flat of his palm softly to the small of Daniel’s back. He is so warm. It takes everything in Max not to plaster himself to Daniel and shove them both against the shower wall, to feel him everywhere. But Daniel has been in here for too long and his sensitive skin will be getting pruny.

Max opens his mouth to say as much, but Daniel cuts him off. “None of it was my fucking fault, today.” His voice is practically a hiss.

“They put you out into traffic,” Max says calmly, his thumb rubbing small circles into one of the dimples at the base of Daniel’s spine. Max had been coming around toward the pitlane when his radio had chirped with Daniel is out now, Max. Max had of course seen Daniel pull onto the track, had seen the traffic there in front of him. Had tried to push Daniel forward with the sheer will of his own mind, as if his devotion alone could overcome shitty mechanics and shittier strategy.

“If it was me fucking up—I could handle that, y’know,” Daniel laughs, one of his honking ones, but it’s humorless. “They want me to prove myself? When they don’t give me a fucking fighting chance?”

Daniel suddenly whips around to face Max, his big round eyes a bit red like he’s been crying but a bit wild like he’s ready to put his fist through a wall. Max can’t help the way his cock starts to thicken a little between his legs.

“I dunno if I can do another year with this team, Maxy,” he says after a moment, his gaze flicking from holding Max’s to cast down at the tiled floor. The resigned admission is swallowed by the thick swirl of steam surrounding them.

Max chokes on the lump of panic that suddenly rises in his throat, the lingering dread that Daniel would not bother with him if he were no longer racing. The insidious little voice in his head that wishes Checo would just… disappear, so Daniel can have back the seat that has always been his.

Before Max’s brain can continue its spiral, Daniel chuckles, shakes his head, smiles tiredly but genuinely. His wrinkled fingertips come up to caress Max’s jaw in a way that makes Max want to melt into his skin.

“I’m expecting the full WAG experience, once I’m sacked.” He grins.

“You will of course be racing next year, Daniel.” Max is sure of this, as sure as he is of his own career. Though it is delicious to imagine a future where he could publicly pamper Daniel to his heart’s content.

“Mmm, you sound so sure of that, baby.” Daniel’s words are a rasp in his ear, breath hot on the wet skin there. “Wish everyone believed in me as much as you and I do.”

Max hears himself hiccup a gasp as Daniel’s teeth scrape over his earlobe at the same moment his hand wraps around where Max is fully hard, now. The raised wrinkles on Daniel’s fingertips feel like needlepoints against him. It makes him tremble.

“Just me, Daniel, and you—just us together—please,” Max pants as Daniel speeds his hand up, slipping the foreskin up and down and up and down. “Fuck everyone else.”

“Yeah, Maxy,” Daniel whispers, almost reverent, as Max spills over his fist. “Fuck everyone else.”

[brooklynbedlam]

Raw Violence

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: You’ve finally pushed Joel past his limits. When your anger gets the best of you, Joel’s there to put you back in your place.

Content Warning: no Y/N, smut (oral- m receiving, degradation, hair pulling, dubcon, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, choking, spitting (if you squint), rough sex, sex in the mud, basically porn what can i say), dom!Joel, enemies to enemies with benefits, language, knife (if you squint)

A/N: i’m kind of mortified that this came from my brain, but i feel like it would be a disservice to not share these thoughts. hehe. honestly though- i would let Joel do things to me that would make my grandma cry.

Word Count: 2800

18+ under the cut! Minors DNI!

You liked to be an easygoing person. You prided yourself in it, in fact. But even you have your limits. In all your years of life, only one person could bring out the very worst of you, the parts you didn’t even think you had in you. Joel Miller. Only he could have you muttering under your breath such hateful thoughts that your mother would have washed your mouth out for. Arrogant jackass. Stupid fucking old man. His haughty posture, his irritating smirk, the obnoxious southern drawl- all of it crept under your skin down to your nerves. Your eyes stare down at your boots as you walk through the mud, keeping the imaginary verbal assault to yourself. It’s only when you run right into him that you realize he’s talking to you.

You distance yourself with a few steps back. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut for the rest of the patrol?

Joel turns around with that infuriating grin, “who you talking to back there?” he asks in a mocking tone. “No one” you reply, unwilling to even attempt pleasantness. “No need to get all worked up sugar”. There he goes again- testing your patience beyond what is humanly possible. If looks could kill, he’d be cold in the ground. You push him aside and keep moving forward down the trail. Joel chuckles and follows close behind unbothered. “What stick’s up your ass?” he jokes. You turn on your heels, index finger pushing right on his chest. “YOU,” you shout “are my problem”.

You somehow manage to stop yourself there. Your self-control amazes even him. More than anything you’d love to rip his ego to pieces and wipe that stupid smirk clean off his face. Joel takes a small step back, “Well, it’s clear this ain’t gonna be a pleasant conversation so why don’t you calm down and not say anything you might regret”. WOW. Where do you even start? Telling you to calm down or telling you not to say something you’ll regret? Now you swear your face must be bright red because you feel like you’re boiling, ready to blow. A dry chuckle leaves your lips as you mentally step off the edge and let your anger overtake everything. “Oh I’m sorry? Don’t want me to hurt your precious feelings there Joel?”. Your fists subconsciously clench with your jaw, knuckles going pale.

“Ain’t my feelings I’m worried about sweetheart. I’d rather be civilized with you but if you got another idea, fine. Do your worst”. Well, you heard him clearly, he was practically begging you to let every vile comment swirling around your brain out in the open. “You wouldn’t be able to handle the truth” you say confidently. Now that set something off in him. You see the change as his eyes go dark and his usual smirk turns into a threatening grimace. His posture makes you feel so small, but you keep your head high refusing to back down from this fight. “Oh yeah?” he growls, “You wanna run that by me again?”. Your entire nervous system is pleading to run, to apologize, and chalk it up to a bad night’s sleep. But you won’t, you can’t- not when it feels so good to finally let it all out.

“Gladly”. You push your chest out and straighten your posture, not nearly as tall but your eyes bore right into his. “You. Can’t. Handle. The. Truth”. Venom drips from your every word, you look for a sign that your words even landed because Joel stands unflinchingly. Almost like the words passed right through him, he refuses to break eye contact. “Oh, but I think I can. So go ahead: hit me with it. I dare you”. There’s a slight smile at the end of his sentence, a smile of that stupid arrogant confidence. He thinks he’s winning. You pause only for a moment to conjure up the cruelest thought you could dare speak. “Fine. Joel, you are the most insufferable prick I’ve ever met in my life. Every time I see you come around with that stupid goddamn smirk like you’re so high and mighty- I just wanna wipe that shit-eating grin off your face. You may think that every person in town is just so scared of you and your stories, but everyone sees you exactly for what you are- a coward”. For a moment Joel looks almost hurt, then he gets angry, real angry. The rage in his expression threatens to cause an explosion. Yet his voice is cold and controlled, an underlying danger in his tone. “That’s all huh? I’m guessing there’s more?” he replies stoically, his clenched jaw and wild eyes the only giveaways of what’s going on in his mind. Then a perfect addition comes to mind, something that will really bruise his ego.

“Yeah, there is. You’re such an asshole with your ridiculous sob story and how you drag that poor girl Ellie through hell just so you can play house again,” you barely even recognize yourself as the words leave your mouth but you keep going, now moving in even closer. “Frankly, I think you’re just a pathetic bastard”. For a moment you see the hate in his eyes, as if he’d like nothing more right now than to shoot you and leave you for the strays. And then, slowly, he lets out a low chuckle- a laugh that’s equal parts amusement, anger, and something else. When he finally speaks, his tone sounds…different. “You done?”. You can’t help but smirk and cross your arms, head high with a sense of victory. “I’m done”. A sense of pride settles in your chest, no witty remark from Joel this time. You’re completely caught off guard when he moves with deceptive speed, getting you in a lock with one hand, and a knife to your throat with the other. His face is inches from yours, a dark fury in his eyes. “You sure about that sweetheart? Nothin’ else you wanna get off your chest?”. His hand tightens around your throat, enough to feel the growing pressure. Joel burns with violent intensity, primal anger that seems to belong in the distant past; a threat, a warning, a promise.

With rapidly fading confidence you muster up another dig. “You don’t have the guts to stand your ground Miller, because you’re just an insecure little man”. Joel’s grip tightens another notch, impossibly close to cutting off your circulation altogether. A pathetic whimper leaves your mouth, betraying the little confidence you have left. He seems to notice the slight fear in your eyes and a smile pulls at his lips, “You really wanna bet?”. Your alarm bells are ringing, although it could just be your head pounding. Physically, he has you under his thumb. In a last-ditch effort to free yourself, you elbow Joel’s chest and break out of his grip. You quickly pull out your switchblade, evening the playing field. You notice a grin on his face. “Something funny Miller?”.

His hand grabs your wrist lightning fast and with brute force, sending the silver blade tumbling into the grass below. Joel looks unhurt, unflustered. “No, I just thought you’d put up a better fight”. Your grunts and squirming are to no avail as he effortlessly pins you into the tree behind you. One hand holds you down while his leg keeps you in place. Your breathing is heavy and you watch as his gaze lowers ever so slightly. You curse yourself for wearing a v-neck shirt, but especially for even getting yourself into this situation. A calloused hand slowly makes its way to your waist, gliding up the thin material of your shirt. His breath fans against your skin, “Give up?”.

Even though your heart is pounding, part of you finds it exhilarating. Your confidence returns if only just to satiate your curiosity. “Make me”. You bite down on Joel’s arm, hard enough for him to let go. He’s caught off guard and he pulls his arm back. You take the small window of opportunity to land a punch square in his jaw. Joel looks back unfazed as his hand brushes the stubble of his cheek. He laughs. It’s a cold, cold, calculating laugh, one that rings with the threat of death. Smiling down at you he looks amused, “You want me to make you?”. “I’d like to see you try”. Your brain is positively running on autopilot, replying out of pure instinct and void of any rational thinking. The hatred has now morphed into a strange blend of curiosity and something else that strikes you down to your core. You fight with every bone in your body to grapple with him, and though you are strong, it’s no match for Joel. In no time you’re down in the dirt, Joel pinning you down with his weight. He smiles and your heart sinks. It’s a terrifying smile with an undercurrent of unbridled violence. He doesn’t look hurt or even like he broke a sweat; he’s just as energetic as ever. The only difference now is the bulging weight you feel against your thigh. It sends electricity to your core as your mind runs wild. Joel moves his hand slowly down your chest, letting his rough hands relish the soft skin. His eyes lock on yours, and it’s a terrifying sight. He leans closer, and his voice is low, almost a whisper, yet it seeps into your very bones. “Say please”.

“No” You bark and focus all your energy on resisting the thoughts that are flooding into your mind. You know what he wants, what he’s asking. But you won’t let him win. “Final warning, sweetheart. I don’t play nice” he chuckles dryly, a feral bearing of teeth. At this point, all better judgment is out the window. There’s no backing out, your pride too fragile to do anything but stand your ground and make him regret ever existing. Joel is impossibly close, light breath fanning your face. Fuck it, you’ll fight dirty. You close in and kiss him with equal parts passion and hatred. His hands move to grip you, pawing anxiously at whatever skin his hands can find. With a rough grasp of your ass, you moan into the kiss before biting down on Joel’s lip just enough to draw blood. He smiles, pulling back with a small bead of crimson running down his lip. His face is ice cold, but you’re drawn to him. Attracted in a way that defies logic, explanation, or understanding. Your heart races, breath becoming heavier, you feel...strange. Like you want him, as if you need him, desire him. Your body and soul crave it even if blatantly disregarding your mind.

You bring a delicate hand to wipe a trace of his blood from your lip, and in an unexpected move you pull him down to your level and sit in his lap. Joel makes no effort to resist. That annoying grin on his face spurs you to grind into the rough denim of his pants, the dull friction sending shock waves up your spine. He does his best to hold back a groan but you can see it on his face just how much he’s enjoying this. You keep going, slowly building your orgasm to its peak. You’re so close. Blood rushes to your head and you feel electricity spark through your legs down to- fuck.  Just as quick as it came along, your pleasure disintegrates under you. Joel has pinned your hips down against him, stopping all your movement. You whine at the loss of motion. Cheap move.

He pushes you from his lap and stands, his erection clear under the thick jeans. “I think you’re confused darlin. You think you just get whatever you want?” he scoffs. “I’ll tell you how this is gonna work,” he says in his smooth Texas drawl, “you are gonna do whatever I tell you and if you can behave yourself then maybe I’ll consider giving you what you like”. Your head is still reeling from your almost orgasm, but you’re coherent enough to hear his instruction. He grabs you by the arm pulling you to your knees. Thick, calloused fingers tilt your chin up and drop your mouth open. Joel looks down at you expectedly as his leather belt leaves its loops. You stare daggers at him but he only grins “be a good girl for once, or I could just tie you here and leave you for the stragglers”. With that, you stifle your pride and release his confined cock. You pathetically take him in your mouth and lazily swirl your tongue around the angry, leaking tip. That wasn’t enough. He thrust mercilessly into your throat as you struggled to breathe, gagging on his thick length. Joel’s lips parted with sinful growls as he guided your head. You were nothing more than a means to his end, he could care less about the air struggling to make it into your lungs or the saliva that dripped onto your chest.

He suddenly pulled out, hissing at the loss of contact. “Get on the ground and take off your clothes”. A simple request in itself but you stared unsure whether to comply or face the consequences. Deciding on the former, you look into those cold brown eyes while removing every article of clothing. Joel smirks as his hungry eyes wander your naked body, imagining what you’ll feel like, what kind of heavenly noises he could conjure out of you. He brings himself down the ground, approaching needily. You could still smell the coffee on his breath and the faint smell of his woodsy cologne as he hovered over. Your breath hitched at the sensation of his cock prying at your weeping hole. Without warning, he fully sheathed himself to the hilt. A shaky cry left your lips as you struggled to adjust to the size. Joel held himself still, composing himself, only for a moment before setting a violent pace. You braced yourself on all fours but soon found the force to be too much. Your arms weakened and buckled leaving you“You’ll do anything I say won’t you?” he looks down almost with pity. Brain rotted with pleasure, you stutter to make even a simple response. That answer doesn’t suffice. Not for Joel. A firm hand pulls at your hair, lifting your eyes to look right at him. “Answer me”. He grips your hips tighter, pushing you deeper into the mud. Your hands blindly search for an anchor, left to dig into the mud and branches underneath you for support. “Yes Joel!” you yell, using all your focus to get the words out. There is just a hint of cruelty at the center of the darkest, most dangerous eyes you’ve ever seen. But they’re on you, all for you. “You like that huh? You like what I’m givin’ ya?”. 

Joel’s groans build as you watch the light brown strands of his hair mat to his forehead and his teeth grit. He wants more and more- an unbridled, raw, and ravenous hunger for you and you alone. And for once you see eye to eye. He’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel. The cold mud underneath and ever-dimming sunlight aren’t even an afterthought. “Now tell me sweetheart, who would you do anything for?”. It’s like something else is controlling him; his own animalistic desire a creature all its own. A force of nature, the likes of which only the apocalypse could make a man. “You.....you.....you” comes out in pathetic whimpers. Tears prick at your eyes, it’s just too much. His hands grabbing at your skin, his thick cock burying deep inside you, the beautiful sounds coming from his mouth as he uses you. He notices and threatens “not yet”. Joel digs his fingers into the plush flesh of your hips as his relentless pace begins to falter. “Now come for me darlin'”. Relief floods your body as you finally get your release, crying out and clawing into the earth. Feeling you tense around his cock, Joel pushes himself to the brink with a merciless pace. Your name leaves his mouth like a primal chant, pulsing into you, letting you milk him for everything he’s got.

You’re left panting breathlessly in the cold air, skin warm with thousands of red hot nerve endings alight. “See, you’re a good girl when you stop using that head of yours”. For once, you don’t have a snarky response. Joel’s face meets yours just mere inches apart.  He smiles, dark eyes black as pitch- burning, burning. With breaths just starting to settle he finally breaches the distance. It’s a surprisingly soft kiss, to juxtapose the violent, selfish acts that preceded it. But deep within it a hint of a deeper truth; something that's hidden for all this time.

[querenciasturniolo]

leave ⮕ c.s.

word count: 724

warnings: angst, swearing, crying

summary: “just leave.”

a/n: this one is…sad, there’s really no other way to put it. if you’re sensitive to angst (cut to me crying and listening to story of another us by 5sos on repeat while writing this), please don’t read below the cut. only take what you can handle, i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

You stared at your ceiling, your body and mind completely numb as you replayed last night over and over again in your head.

“Are you fucking serious right now? You sound ridiculous, Chris. Get over yourself.”

He scoffed and took a step back. “Get over myself? God, everything is always about you. I’ve been falling apart right in front of you for months, and you didn’t even see it!”

You winced, closing your eyes to keep them from burning as tears pooled out. It felt impossible to cry, you’d figured you’d run out of tears.

Your chest constricted as you watched his mouth quiver. “I just,” he started, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I can’t do this anymore.” He all but whispered. You took a step forward, your breath hitching in horror as Chris took a step back. After a few shaky breaths, his eyes met yours again. Tears cascaded down his cheeks as he shook his head. “I’m never going to be good enough for you, am I?”

Your breath hitched, your hands immediately covering your face as you tried to muffle the choked sob forcing itself past your lips.

“Chris, you’re my best friend—”

“I’m in love with you.” He interrupted, his voice breaking. “I’ve been in love with you our entire lives, and I know you’re not so fucking dense that you didn’t see it.” His words were like poison as they sank in, your stomach roiling with guilt.

Before you could reply, he cut you off. “I have followed you around like a lost puppy since we were twelve, and I can’t do it anymore.” He said, lifting his head completely. The muscle in his jaw tensed, any words you were going to say dying in your throat. He stared you down, his misery festering as your hand rested over your abdomen.

“Chris, I didn’t know.” You whispered, Chris shaking his head.

“Please, it was written all over my face every time I looked at you.” His voice was laced with sarcasm and venom. “Just…just leave.” He said, his voice cracking as he pushed his hair out of his eyes.

You felt like you’d been stabbed, all of the color leaving your face as you processed his words. “What?”

“Just leave, please?” The last word came out a broken plea, his eyes closing as he sighed sharply. When he opened his eyes again, they were certain, hardened in a way that you knew whatever he said next, he meant whole-heartedly. “I can’t…I can’t do this anymore.” He said. It felt as though everything inside you shattered as he walked past you and into Matt’s room, the soft click of the door practically echoing inside of your head.

You sat up out of your bed and threw your legs over the side of it. Nausea coiled in your gut, but you bit it back as you leveled your breathing. You tried convincing yourself that this wasn’t over, Chris wasn’t out of your life forever. He wasn’t, he just needed time to process this, and then you would see him again.

The truth was, once you thought about it, it was painfully obvious how much he cared for you. You’d never thought twice about his actions, thinking it was just Chris being Chris. You’d been blinded by your own obliviousness, just completely ignoring the underlying reasons for his actions.

He was in love with you, and you didn’t feel the same way. You didn’t feel the same way, and you hated yourself for hurting him. You could see the sadness in his eyes every time he looked at you, as subtle as it was. He was falling apart right in front of you, because you couldn’t just tell him the truth.

“I’m never going to be good enough for you, am I?”

You sat up straight and wiped your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Standing from your bed felt wrong, but you took a deep breath and pushed your hair out of your face. You looked down at your phone and tapped the screen, begging whatever entity out there to let there be something, anything, from him. Your notification center practically mocked you as it showed up empty. You inhaled shakily, trying desperately to swallow the knot in your throat as you realized this was it—you lost him.

“Just leave.”

tags: @strniolo , @toyourloves , @ssturniolo , @jellybeanbby , @thetriplets3 , @mxriverse , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @emmssturniolo , @lvrsparadise , @tuktuk34 , @angelcake-222 , @20nugs , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @babytomatoes , @ldontexistman

[shiftingparadise]

I want you to (part 2)

Here's a part 2, hopefully you'll enjoy it just as much. I'm going to work on your requests again. Enjoy reading 🤍✨

PS: I really want to continue Soft Spot, anyone any ideas? 🥰

WARNINGS: smut - angst

Word count: 1979

“I got something for you”, a soft smile on his face. “An envelope?”, I frowned. “Open it”, a spark in his eyes. “No, you didn’t. How did you get tickets to the opening of his art show? W-we weren’t invited”. “Well, now you are”, he chuckled. “How did you-“. “Doesn’t matter”, he gestured for me to come over, “Everything for my princess”. “Thank you”, I hastily sat down on his lap before plastering kisses all over his face. “I can’t believe I get to be one of the first persons to see his work”. 

I sighed as I relived the memory. How could he fake something like that? He seemed so content, so proud of himself for making me happy… Now, he wanted nothing more than to see me cry. It all felt so cruel to me; so unfair.

“I don’t want to today”, my eyes glued to the floor as I sat down on the bed. “I don’t care”, his hand softly wrapped around my throat, “I’m going to make you mine”. “I’m already yours”, I whispered as my hands were tied behind my back. “Because I force you to”, he took a step back. 

I rubbed my wrists together, to loosen the rope around them. I didn’t understand why he tied my wrists together, there was nowhere for me to go; nowhere I could go. 

“Blue suits you well”, his eyes studied the lingerie he chose for me, “Goes well with those bruises I gave you yesterday”. 

A sudden hate started to rise to my throat. I didn’t want him to find me pretty. At least not like this.

“Those aren't bruises”, I narrowed my eyes, “You bit me”. “Only because you were acting like a brat”, he roughly grabbed my jaw. “Let go”, I tried to pull away. “Again? Haven’t you learned your lesson?”, a disgusted look on his face. 

Feitan never hurt me. At least not like he hurt others. Sure, he bit me, he sometimes even scratched my back a little too hard, but he never cut me. He never even tried to break my fingers or my leg. He never did any real damage. 

“What are you going to do? Bite me? Like a dog?”, a defiant look in my eyes. “Watch it”, his eyes grew dark. “Or what? I’m not scared of you”, I sat up straight. 

 H-huh?, my eyes widened as I felt the back of his hand against my cheek. This was the second time he hit me. It was a sudden reminder of his strength. 

“On your hands and knees”, his voice colder than usual as he freed my hands. “N-no”, I loudly swallowed. “I won’t hold back this time”. 

He didn’t need to raise his hand. The way he looked at me was more than enough to make me obey. 

“Good”, he got behind me as his fingers gently traced over my spine. I flinched once I felt his cold fingertips. “Oh? What’s wrong?”, he mocked as his hand wrapped around my hair. Without saying anything else, he pulled my head back as his lips hovered next to my ear. 

“Scared?”. 

“Yes”, I tried to hold back tears. 

It was best to just go along, to give him what he wanted.

“I thought you weren’t scared of me”, he pushed my head into a pillow as his other hand gently pulled my panties down. “N-no”, my knees pulled together like magnets. “Don’t”, he softly pulled them back open with his knee. A chuckle as he looked down, his digits already where my body needed them the most. 

I closed my eyes in shame. I didn’t want him to notice how much my body needed him.  

“I’m going to breed you until you can’t walk anymore”, his tip already pressed against my entrance. “Even when I hit you, when I hurt you, you’re body still wants me to fuck you. Isn’t that funny?”. 

“Please Feitan”, I closed my eyes, not sure what I was pleading for. I didn’t want him to stop, but I didn’t want him to continue either. It was a constant battle. 

“I can’t wait to see your belly”, he grunted as he pushed in, “You’re going to look fucking perfect with my baby inside you”. 

“F-fei-���, I lifted myself as he pushed even deeper. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight”, he chuckled as he picked up the pace, “I want to see you cry, you know that? I want to see that cute nose turn pink, your eyes all swollen… But you’re already used to this, aren’t you? You’re used to being my pretty doll that I get to fuck whenever I want”. 

Used? I didn’t need to get used to it. I enjoyed it every time. Even if I cried, even if I begged him to stop... I never really wanted him to.  

“W-wait”, I tried to protest as he flipped me onto my back. “What if I carve my name in your skin, would you cry then?”, a sudden edge in his tone.

I closed my eyes in response. I didn’t want to see the look in his eye; the joy he felt.

“Tsk”, he clicked his tongue as he got more rough. It seemed that he got agitated for an unknown reason. 

He didn’t want you to know how soft he was for you. He really wanted you to be scared for him, but he didn’t enjoy seeing you like this. He couldn't keep this up. His heart ached at your hurt.

“Don’t worry”, he softly guided my chin so I could look at him, “Won’t do stuff like that. Not to you”. 

An unwilling flutter in my stomach. 

“J-just keep going”, I arched my back. “Don’t worry”, he let his head rest against mine. A sign he wanted to feel my touch. “You’re such a good boy”, my hands gently wrapped around him, “You’re always making me feel so good”. 

He didn’t know what happened inside him; why there was this sudden warmth running through his veins. 

“More”, a whisper I could barely hear. “You’re going to make me come”, I gently grabbed his hand, guiding it to where I needed him the most. “Fuck Feitan”, I smiled as my breaths got heavier, “You’re making me feel so good”. 

He pulled away. His eyes were now glued to my face. There was this unsure look on his face; as if he didn’t understand what was happening. 

“I want you to come with me”, my eyes rolled to the back of my head, “Want you to fill me up. W-want to have your baby”. “Y/N-“, his eyes widened as I pulled him closer each time he pushed into me. He didn’t answer. For the first time, he stayed quiet. ‘F-fei”, I softly sighed as I came undone. He followed shortly, but there was no warning when he came. No sigh, no moan, nothing. 

“Feitan?”, I sat up straight as he got dressed. “I’m going to tape your mouth shut next time”, he sat down next to me again, “You’re getting too confident”. 

My eyes went round in disbelief as I noticed a smile on his face. 

“I want to have twins”, his smile disappeared again, “A boy and a girl and I’m going to give them everything I didn’t have. A loving mother, a warm house, toys, books, … I want to go on holidays together, I want to celebrate Christmas, I-“, he suddenly paused. “I know you don’t want to be mine, but I know you’re going to give our children everything they need”, he looked to the ceiling, “Just as I know you’d protect them with your life if necessary”. 

He was beautiful when he showed his soft side. I could look at him forever when he was like this. 

“I need to go out at night, for work. I’ll see you in the morning”, he placed an awkward kiss on my temple, a gesture he probably never meant before. "And don’t try to leave. I’ll have someone here to watch you”. 

—-

“Get up”, his cold voice rang from behind the door, “Breakfast is ready”. I wanted to rebel, to tell him I wasn’t hungry, but it would be futile. “Y/N?”, he raised his voice from a lack of response. “Just a minute”, I forced myself to answer before putting on the clothes he laid out for me. 

Every day, around 6 AM, he’d come into my room and neatly lay out clothes for me. Yesterday it was a short skirt with a Ralph Lauren sweater, the day before there was a beautiful, pink dress… 

“I want to wear sweatpants”, I sighed while I adjusted my skirt. For some reason, he gave me an extra short, black dress today, paired with some Lousboutins. Needless to say, I didn’t feel very comfortable. “Hm?”, he raised an eyebrow as he took a bite from his toast. “N-nothing”, I hastily forced a smile on my face. “Eat”, his eyes low. 

God, I hated this silence. There was nothing left for me to do other than wait. 

“I need you to do something for me”. “What?”, I softly replied. “Went out last night”, his brows pulled together, “I need you to take care of me”. “Take care of you?”. “I’m hurt”, he slowly stood up, “I need stitches”. “I-I can’t… I’ve never-“. “Bathroom”, he interrupted my nervous pleas. “B-but-“. “Won’t ask you twice”, his cold eyes stared into mine. 

I nervously shuffled behind him, scared to admit that I couldn’t stand the sight of blood. 

“I’d normally ask Machi”, he grunted as he leaned against the sink, “But she’s on a mission”. “Okay”, I wrapped my arms around my waist as he took off his shirt. “See?”, he looked down at the wound. 

My stomach started to turn. Feitan had wrapped a bandage around his waist in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but the once-white fabric had already turned red. 

“Here”, he grabbed a couple of things out of the cabinet. “D-don’t you need something for the pain?”, I slowly walked closer. “It’s fine”, he grunted as he got rid of the bandage. 

Right. I should’ve known better than to look at the wound. 

“What?”, his cold eyes grew more tired by the second. “N-nothing”, I tried to get some feeling in my fingers by shaking my hands. “Hurry, it hurts”, he let his head fall back. I nodded before I cleaned his wound. 

So far, so good.

“Shit”, Feitan grunted at the stinging sensation of the disinfectant. “Sorry”, I softly responded before looking at the needle. “It’s fine, just hurry”, he looked to the side. “S-so”, I cleared my throat as I held out the needle. 

I couldn’t do this. I knew I couldn’t. Why did I even try? 

“Think 8 stitches are enough”, he pulled his brows together as he examined the wound. 

I just nodded as my head started to spin. The wound looked even more awful as blood kept dripping down onto the cold tiles. 

“Y/N?”, Feitan’s voice sounded strange. As if he was yelling from far away. “Y/N?”, he repeated as dark spots took over my sight. “Fuck”, he gritted his teeth before catching me. 

—-

“Hm?”, I grunted as I tried to figure out where I was. “Finally”, Feitan sighed, “You were out for a couple of hours”. “A couple of hours?!”. “You were probably tired. It’s not like you sleep much at night”. “H-how do you know?”. “Doesn’t matter”, he placed a bag on my lap. “What’s this?”, my brows pulled together. “Sweatpants and a sweater”, a discontent look on his face, “You wanted some, right?”. “Y-yeah”, I softly replied. “I got some more clothes. They’re already in your closet. Wear whatever you like”. "Y-your wound-", I didn't care about the clothes. "Already took care of it", he lifted his shirt, "Now get some rest. You're tired".

[skellymom]

"THE PLATFORM"

THE BAD BATCH CROSSHAIR FICLET

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

Word Count: 628

Background: The story we didn't get of Crosshair's trials and tribulations while being left on the Kamino platform. (This ficlet may eventually be included as a future installment to my long running TBB OC series "Vagabonds". To read it:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/738467105361494016/vagabonds?source=share

Warning: Swearing, fear, physical pain, starvation, dehydration, Star Wars Canon violence.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

Crosshair opened his swollen, burning eyes to the intense Kamino sun.  The sea spanned for miles around the platform.  The ruins of his home poked out of ocean.  It had stopped smoldering days ago.   

There had been NO rain since his brothers and Omega left him behind. 

No fresh water to quench his thirst.  Only his urine.   

Did his brothers DISPISE him so much as to NOT leave at least a canteen of water and some rations??? 

An exhausted, deep HATE rose in Crosshair.  He should have shot Hunter square between the eyes when he had the chance...except the kid would have seen it... 

...and his squad would have killed him outright.   

I deserve it...I’M A FUCKING FAILURE.  My brothers are gone...forever... 

He’d cry...if he could produce tears... 

Crosshair’s hunger was only abated after shooting down the occasional sea bird, feasting upon the body and drinking its blood. 

Fishing was impossible...as he was constantly being watched... 

...by the Saber Jaw trolling around the platform in the waters below. 

It’s large eye, the only thing poking above the surface, keeping tabs on ole Crossy. 

He initially watched it swimming around the wreckage, looking for bodies left after the Empire bombed Kamino City. 

Now it was coming for him.  Crosshair closed his eyes and wished for a quick death soon.  Baking in the hot Kamino sun until he died of dehydration was excruciating. 

Hours later a distant hum had Cross open one dry eye.  It was difficult to see.  Everything was a blur. 

The sound, now louder, slowly become a roar. 

His eyes strained to look skyward, but the glare blinded. 

A shadow fell over him, as the craft descended onto the platform. 

About KRIFFING TIME the Empire showed up...   

Although Crosshair was unsure if it truly was a ship...or mirage. 

The platform shook slightly as the craft landed.  Then the engine died.  Sounds of a gangplank opening.  Footsteps... 

Please make it ANY other officer.  I can’t STAND Forcedamned Cockstain Rampart’s uppity-assed voice. 

An image flashed across Crosshair’s mind: mustering the last of his strength to blast Rampart to bits AND have the stormtroopers shoot him out of his misery...at the same time. 

Crosshair smiled and giggled dryly.  

The footsteps stopped. 

“Would give the WHOLE galaxy if that smile were for US” 

Crosshair’s eyes popped wide open.  He jerked up on one elbow swinging Firepuncher up to sniper’s position. 

He attempted to swallow nervously...but he had no saliva... 

...Hunter stood meters away, intensely staring at Crosshair.  The words didn’t match the action.  Instead, Hunter emanated anger and hurt. 

He’s FUCKING with ME!  Coming back to torment!!! 

Echo and Wrecker flanked each side of the Marauder’s gangplank.  Their weapons weren’t raised but they held them ready just in case. 

Cross could barely see Tech’s head inside the Marauder.  Everything far away was a blur.  

Hunter turned them against me!  All for that kid... 

...AND THERE SHE WAS! 

Omega had slipped out of the Marauder, following Hunter. 

Crosshair growled and ground his teeth in rage.   

“I TOLD YOU TO TAKER HER AWAY SOMEWHERE!” 

Hunter blinked at the sound, his teeth on edge. 

Omega stopped in her tracks; eyes wide. 

“AND YOU BROUGHT HER BACK HERE AGAIN!” 

Crosshair kept on spewing more anger, hurt, and delirious vitriol.  While Hunter was intensely hurt and angry at his brother, there was concern.  Cross’ high emotional stress, severe dehydration and starvation drove his eyes to roll back...causing a loss of bodily control. Crosshair fought unconsciousness... 

...causing his finger to pull the trigger. 

Firepuncher jumped in Crosshair’s grasp.  It jerked him back to consciousness. 

Hunter barely had time to duck.  The bolt flew past his temple, shearing free the bandana from his head...and a few locks of hair. 

Crosshair stared in horror at what he just did... 

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

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[simply-strangers]

A bit of a long-winded question but here we go.

How would Joker approach a now terrified partner after he is committed to Arkham and post-Arkham? Imagine his partner is good-hearted, almost a pacifist, and they’re just heart-broken over how their sweet Arthur has become a killer. They visit him at Arkham and cry over believing that they could have somehow prevented Arthur’s murders but Arthur tries to comfort them: he feels confident and better than ever. When he gets out and approaches them after Arkham, they are TERRIFIED. They’re scared Joker is going to kill or manipulate them, while Joker is devastated by how much pain and fear he’s caused them. He is still desperately in love with the one good thing in his life so— how does he try to fix this situation and save his relationship?

Very ready for your hot take.

- ☁️

This was so long ago, hello again my darling Cloud. How are you? I'm sorry I've been away but I've cracked a few knuckles and drank a few V8 Energy's (they're healthy and flavorful) so this SHOULD be well.

Title: Predator and Prey

Sorry it’s a tad short but I thought this scene in my head was really cute and I didn’t want to be distracted by backstory.

taglist: @ajokeformur-ray

#####################################

“Please Y/N just listen!” Arthur, Joker, whoever the fuck he was stepped towards you into your apartment and you could almost scream but a hand clamped over your mouth muffling it.

Hot tears streamed down you face and Arthur’s eyes looked pained and sorrowful.

“Shh, Shh, Shh! Please let me talk okay? Let me explain it all okay? I won’t hurt you, I’d never hurt you okay?” Arthur’s voice is soft and coaxing, nothing like the horrible horrible clown on TV.

Still you saw the green staining his roots and the white clay paint around his jaw. He was a murderer. A terrorist, but he wasn’t hurting you. He was holding your head with unprecedented gentleness and not even really keeping you that still. You just responded to his touch that way.

“See? See everything’s okay.” He uttered and a light thumb came and wiped away a stray tear. “I’m right here.”

“Why’d you do all of this? Why did you go off the rails?” You cried into the telephone and sobbed into your sleeve.

“I’m sorry, please don’t hate me but I’m happier. Everything is better this way. It’ll all be so much better.”

“You promised it was going to be better, so explain to me how the HELL killing people on the street and parading around causing riots is better!” You sobbed and you caught a glimpse of Arthur’s eyes. The shattered glass that broke in those soft seafoam eyes. The glass that had been glued over and over again till the owner gave up on trying to fix it.

“They’re bad people Y/N, people who do nothing for those they hurt or leave dying on the streets anyway.” Arthur explains quietly. “Those people, who riot, they’re crazier than me. They’ll do anything without a leader and that’s dangerous. Someone good could get hurt and I don’t want that.”

He reached out for you and you let him hold you.

“This is necessary. I promise, I’ll never hurt you or let anyone do so.” Arthur vowed and it vibrated deep in your chest to your heart. It was true and you cried into his shoulder.

The shoulder of a man who should be behind bars awaiting a death penalty or something and a man who loved you wholly and would never lay a finger on you. Or let anyone else do so. 

Arthur. You could have Arthur, and maybe one day embrace Joker. Maybe one day you could see his mission, even if it made your gut twist and your throat tighten with fear. He was dangerous, but not to you. A lion protecting a mouse.

Predator protecting prey.

“I love you Y/N.” Arthur said quietly and only then did you realize you had sunken to the floor, wrapped in his gangly arms.

“I love you too Arthur.” You finally responded and slipped your arms around his middle, pulling him close and closing your eyes against the King of Crime in Gotham.

[transmasc-wizard]

Good Dogs

uhhhhh hello im writing again ! it is. 12:40am. i started this at midnight. i might go in and edit it/post it again in the morning or a few days because i am so tired. but yeah here's a silly little story.

word count: 625

cws: abuse, low self worth, people comparing themselves to animals

@lychniscitrus asked 2 be tagged :]

They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. You’re probably learning that with me.

Kick me, I tell you. It’s what I’m here for. Hold my head underwater just to watch me try and breathe. You’ll like it, won’t you? You’ll laugh about it, won’t you? I’ll take it if you want me to. You ask me why, and I say again: it’s what I’m here for.

I need to protect you, but I’m not supposed to bite others. And while that compliant part of me obeys, that part that wants to do everything you say, there’s another half. It snarls and screams. If anyone looks at you wrong I’ll have my teeth at their throat. Sinking into a fragile neck. Tasting iron and gore. I need to protect you. You ask me why, and I say, red still running down my jaw: it’s what I’m here for. I don’t say, because they will kick you too if I don’t stop them. I need to stop them. I need to protect you.

~

Mutt is a fitting title. Mutts are a lot of things, mixed together and often unclear. They result in some fucked up batch most people don’t want to touch. I am subservient to anything you wish, quiet and waiting, and yet I spring alive at a moment’s notice to attack whatever I perceive as a threat to you. Please, pull on my leash if I go too far. Don’t let me get out of line. Kick me. It’s what I’m here for.

Sometimes I bite the hand that feeds me. Fuck, I’m sorry, I just don’t know how to distinguish all the flesh. Your skin is as necessary as anything that might fuel me. I get scared sometimes that you’ll take it from me. I can’t let you take it from me. If I hold on and I never let go, you can’t take it from me. (Sometimes, I bite the hand that feeds me.)

When my teeth meet you, it hurts me more. That’s selfish to say, I know, but you’ll never be as scared of me as I am.

I don’t think I used to bite. You ask me why I do now, and I can only say that I learned. I don’t remember why—I was fine being kicked. But I did, and I can’t stop it anymore. I’ll bite anything for you, even myself. I’ll cannibalize myself for you if that’s what you want. Tell me to hurt myself before I can hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.

~

I’d follow you to my slaughter. I know this without a doubt. If you decide that’s what needs to happen, who am I to judge? Kick me, bite me, hurt me, it’s what I’m here for. You say, but I don’t want to kick you, and I say, you will. Please stop asking why. I say that you just will, and it’s easier this way. I deserve it. I don’t say that if you kick me and you stay, I’ll know I’m worth keeping even when I misbehave. I’ll know that to punish me, to use me, to hate me isn’t to stop wanting me. But if you love me, I have to be afraid of losing it.

Please let me love you without worrying you love me back. Let me lie at your chair, waiting. I’ll look up at you and the care won’t leave my eyes and my eyes won’t leave you. That’s how it should be. I’ll get on the ground screaming and crying if that’s what it takes, begging you not to ignore my prayers like every other god does. I love you. Please fucking kick me.

It’s what I’m here for.

[thethickerside]

I Just Died

Part 2

“Was that the start?”

“No…there’s so much that happened before that…”

————————

“Your finger touched my lips

As I tried to explain maybe why you and I

Should hide from such a love affair

My friends think that I'm so insane

To fight this feeling

But my life's at stake

Your embrace, thoughts won't erase

Every now a minute of the day I wait and hope and pray

That you might stay

And now you're moving oh so closely

Killing me so softly, so softly

I just died”

A story based off of “I Just Died” by Amerie.

—————

December, 2013

“Letitia Wright?” The casting director calls out the woman’s name. “That’s me..” Letitia looks up from the script that she was rehearsing. “We’re ready for you.” The director smiles.

—————————

Once her audition was over, Tish felt doubtful. “I could’ve done better on that part..” She muttered to herself. She really wanted to get this role. This was her call back audition, and it would be an absolute heartbreak if she didn’t get the role after all of that work. Once she stepped into her apartment, she threw her keys down on the table and took off her shoes. She had the look of exhaustion on her face. Just when she was about crash on her couch, she got a call. She answered the phone with a sleepy voice and said, “hello?” A chirpy voice replied back to her. “Letitia! I hate to call you this late at night, but I wanted to let you know that you got the role! We actually need you to come back in. We have your love interest, and we wanted to see how the chemistry between would be! Are you able to come in?” Letitia instantly shot up from her couch and grabbed her keys. “I-yes!” She stumbled to put her shoes back on. “Great! We’ll see you there!” The lady said before she hung up. Letitia grabbed her script and rushed out of the door pondering to herself, “I wonder who my love interest is….”

About 25 minutes later she arrived at the building. Her heart was fluttering with excitement and nervousness. Once she entered the building, she was taken back to the audition room. The closer Letitia got, the more she could hear the conversations being held. “I’m nervous…I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold up.” She heard a slightly deep female voice say. She gulped and opened the door.

She was met with a brown skimmed women looking back at her. “Hi…You’re Letitia, right?” Letitia closed the door behind herself and nodded. “Yea. That’s me.” She said. Letitia could tell that the girl was nervous. “So…where are the casting directors?” Letitia asked. The other woman gulped. “So, they told me that they won’t be in the room, but they still want us to run over the lines.” The other woman said. Tish was slightly confused, but then she let it go. “Well…okay, let’s start.”

They both took a moment to get into character before looking back at each other.

“What do you want me to do?” Letitia asked. She had an exasperated look on his face. Letitia’s eyes were glued to hers as she clenched her jaw. “I’ve already told you. I don’t know how many times we have to go over this. It’s like you never change! For Christ’s sake, do even know how many times I have fucking waited for you to get it together?!” The girl raised her voice. Tish was shocked at how authentic she was. It was like she was really upset. “I can’t wait anymore…this life isn’t for me.” The girl says. Her tone has gotten softer. She wiped her eyes, and began to look around. “You can’t leave, and you know that…” Tish gets closer to her. “It doesn’t hurt to try.” The girl says while looking at Letitia. While staying in character, Letitia took in the girls features. Her round nose, plump lips, long eyelashes…everything she took in helped the chemistry grow between them. The way the girl would shift her eyes around when angry, or the way she would gulp when crying.

She cleared her throat and broke eye contact with Letitia. “Okay…so…how did I do?” She asked. She backed away from Letitia and adjusted her clothes a bit. “That was great…you’re a really good actor.” Letitia responded.

“Oh thank you…that means a lot coming from you. I really loved your work in Banana.” The girl said. Her gaze was directed at the floor as she gulped once again.

Letitia smiles lightly and nods out of gratitude. “Thank you so much…that means a lot…” She says. There is a moment in time where there were absolutely no words muttered. Even with the growing silence that was in the room, the tension between the both of them spoke for itself. They could both feel it…but they didn’t know what it was…and what it could do to them.

“Well, I have to go! It was really nice meeting you Letitia—“ The other woman abruptly broke the silence made her way to the door. Letitia felt a sense of urgency when she saw the girl about to leave. Letitia grabbed her hand and caught her attention. “I forgot to ask you…what’s your name?” The tone in Letitia’s voice had become warmer. “My name is Damaris.” The woman said.

“Beautiful name…” Letitia responded with a warm smile.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Erupt - a Malevolent fic

Sunny knew him. Knew him well. This was Parker working himself up to do something rash. Parker?

Very carefully, Parker said, “I’m not mad at you.” But just a little, he was.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

------------

Parker walked.

Walked? No, more like stalked, too quiet to be stomping, but far from his usual step. He marched past chattering and laughing deities, hunched past monsters in servant garb, stormed right the fuck out of the palace and through the front gates. He ignored anyone who said, Hey, is he allowed out, passed the road with fancy gilded wagons bringing special fuckwads in, and kept stalking until he was past the outer limit of Carcosa proper and almost into the Dreamlands themselves.

Wherever they were was desolate. Boulders jutted up from the earth, the landscape brown and craggy. They had no pack, no water or clothes. Who the hell cared? It’s not like Parker had a destination.

It’s not like Hastur would really let them go.

They’d gotten perhaps half a mile from the gates when Sunny spoke again. Parker, he said, voice hushed and wounded and scared. Say something. Please. I don’t… I heard everything you did, and I’m also… please, say anything.

Parker found it difficult to unlock his jaw from where it was set; too difficult with the rage that filled him to bursting, the wrath that put him firmly in the walk it off before you do something you regret camp.

He wasn’t sure there was a whole lot he’d regret right now.

But for Sunny, he would have to manage, because Sunny would blame himself, and Parker was getting desperate not to put any of this rage on him. “That motherfucker,” he said, shoulders shaking from the effort.

He could almost feel Sunny twist in his head, pained and incorporeal. I… said Sunny, as if he could find the words to make it better—but from the following uncomfortable silence, he could not. I didn’t know, he said at last, voice low and ragged. I didn’t… Parker, I’m sorry.

Parker grabbed a stone from the ground and hurled it into the distance, finding no relief in watching it clatter against the rocky ground. He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. His breath came fast through his nose, shallow.

Sunny knew him. Knew him well. This was Parker working himself up to do something rash. Parker?

Very carefully, Parker said, “I’m not mad at you.” But just a little, he was.

He knew that wasn’t fair. He did. But this had put the big thing they didn’t talk about into such sharp relief that he could no more ignore it than he could a knife to his neck.

Sunny knew him. Knew him well. This was Parker not saying everything. We can’t… we can’t change what he did, Sunny said, the tremble in his voice betraying his fear, but we… You’re helping, Parker. You’re helping Arthur. That has to count for… something, right?

And Parker fucking roared.

He raised his fists in the air and brought them down with his whole body, slamming them into the boulder ahead of him, definitely hurting himself, a volcano of rage.

Sunny whimpered.

“I CAN’T LET YOU DO IT!” Parker howled, and then he did something even worse: he slid to the rocky soil on his knees, curled down, and so quietly, began to cry.

Wh-what?

“Fuck….” Parker whispered. “Fuck. You’re gonna hate me for it. I hate me for it. But I can’t… I can’t. I can’t.” He sobbed it.

I could never hate you, Sunny said, voice fearful for an entirely new reason. Never. I love you, Parker—talk to me, please. I don’t… I’ve told you, I don’t harbor any ill will towards Arthur anymore. I’ve been trying so hard, I…

“I can’t let you join the King,” said Parker, and his voice sounded like grinding metal.

Sunny sat in shocked silence for a moment, feeling Parker’s tears drip down their chin. It… he said, fumbling. It can’t be helped, Parker.

“Bullshit,” Parker snapped, squeezing his eyes shut. “It can. You’re not doing it.” He took a shuddering breath. “Hate me for it. I know I'm going back on my word. I fucking know it, Sunny. But I can’t. I can’t let you. I can’t let you be part of that. I wouldn’t let anybody I cared for join some fucking monster.”

Do you think I’m happy to have learned all of this? Sunny shuddered, Parker’s face contorting in a grimace. I’m… I’m not, Parker. I feel… I don’t even know what to feel. And maybe I would have felt differently a year ago, I don’t know, but—

“I don’t care,” Parker said thickly. “I told myself it was like some terminal illness, yeah? Some fatal disease that couldn’t be helped, and I’d love you to the end, and I still will… but it’s not like a disease at all, and it isn’t happening.”

Parker, Sunny said, his voice soft and full of grief. I am the King.

“No, you’re fucking not!” Parker punched the boulder this time, splitting the skin of his knuckles. “You’re not! I don’t care if you were! You’re not!”

I am, Sunny said, and Parker’s tears were no longer all his own. I’m no fucking better than he is, Parker! I schemed with Larson to try and make Arthur’s life a living hell. I manipulated and lied and everything else! He let out a soft sob.

“You are better. You’re better. You’re… you weren’t even part of him when he did that to Arthur.” And then Parker changed directions. “And maybe I don’t care. Huh? Maybe I don’t give a fuck if you’re cut from the same cloth. You’re not the same now, and I won’t let you do it.” He groaned, low. “I didn’t want to before, anyway, but it wasn’t about me. It still isn’t. You’d be ruined. You’d lose the good in you. I won’t fucking let you, and if you hate me… you hate me.”

What am I now, Parker? Sunny’s voice had a bit of bite to it. A pathetic little scrap, barely any power to speak of, that can only sit by and watch?

“No!” Parker sounded so raw. “You’re Sunny!”

I don’t fucking know who Sunny is, he snapped. All I am, all I will ever be is the King’s forgotten one, not even important enough for him to look for, and if I have convinced you otherwise—he choked. Maybe I’m… maybe I’m a better manipulator than I thought.

“I know who you are,” said Parker. “You’re the guy I fell for. All the way, hook-line-sinker, all-in, head-first, and I’m still in, and I wouldn’t fall for some piece of shit or some liar because I’m fucking good at seeing through those!” Parker, who could run for miles barely breaking a sweat, was breathing like he couldn’t get enough air.

Are you sure? There was a tremor in Sunny’s voice. Are you sure this is really about me, Parker? And not because otherwise, you’d be alone?

Parker went really still. He studied his hands, bloodied and bruised, and nodded. “Go on. You got better than that in you. Gonna hit me low, you better aim below the belt. And that was pretty pathetic.”

I… And just like that, the fire died. I… I didn’t… I didn’t mean that. I don’t know why I said it. Fuck.

“No, you been thinking it for a while,” Parker said evenly. “Probably. And I can take it. Sunny, get it out. This is your chance. Fucking take my head off. I’m breaking my word, so do it. I don’t care. Nobody can hear us out here, anyway.”

You deserve better than me. Sunny curled into himself, almost. You deserve better than all of this. I can’t do anything for you, Parker; I can’t hold you, I can’t give you the love you deserve. I can’t keep you safe, not from Larson, not from fucking anything.

“You think any of those things is why I love you?” Parker said, soft.

I don’t know why you love me. There’s nothing here to love—just a fucking voice that was thrust upon you, dragging you into this… into this fucking nightmare! His voice hitched, raised. It’s… it’s not fair! None of this is fair!

“Sure. Sure. Then why aren’t I ready to get rid of you, huh? Looking for it. Maybe telling Hastur to take you early. Instead of fucking fighing to keep you.” Parker took a slow breath. “I’m trying real hard to give you what you want. What maybe you need. But I can’t do this. It’s like tossing a baby into a lion’s den. And I love you. Whatever you are, scrap or Sunny or whatever the fuck. With me, is what you are. That’s what love is. That’s why I know it’s real. If...” He gripped his hair tightly, trying to calm down so he could speak clearly. “If it was based on some… some… you doing shit for me, instead of being with me, it would never last. Because people get old, and shit happens. You can’t always do. But if it’s just with me, then none of that matters. Because we can be together no matter what’s going on. Damn it, I’m fucking…” He had to use his cloak to blow his nose, and got blood from his hands on it. “Fucking hell.”

I don’t know what I want, Sunny said, his voice a low, agonized groan. I don’t want you to… to grow old, to die, but I can’t… I can’t stop it. I can’t. I can’t mark you, I’m not John, I can’t—

“Did I fucking ask you to be John? Did I ask you to mark me? What have I asked of you, Sunny?”

I WANT TO MARK YOU! Sunny bellowed, breaking down into a sob. All the things I want to do, I fucking can’t! I can’t even… I can’t even…“ He took their voice, words hitching and breaking. “I can’t even hold you. All I want to do is hold you, right now, and I can’t. I can’t do anything but watch.”

Parker wrapped his arms around himself. He was silent for a long time. “How long you wanted that?”

They both knew he didn’t mean being held.

Sunny’s throat was already exposed. He may as well. Since… since before we came to Carcosa, he said, voice shaking with the effort to be heard. But I knew for certain when we went on the roof the first time, and… and I told you I loved you. But— he let out a sob. J-John said… he said Hastur… John suggested he mark you, to keep you from… and I can’t. It hurts, and you hate him now on top of it, and—

“I don’t hate John.” That sounded like a carefully thought-through thing. “He’s a victim. Like you. Like Arthur. Like me.”

Not John. Hastur. And Sunny erupted into horrible, all-encompassing sobs.

Parker rocked. Maybe for Sunny, maybe for him. Then weakly, he laughed. “Never thought I’d hate my father-in-law.”

Somewhere in Sunny’s sobs, there was a sound that might have, instead, been a laugh.

Parker sighed and gripped his hair again. “I don’t get why Arthur forgave him. I can’t fucking figure it out. What in fuck happened on that road trip? How could he forgive that? But he did, Sunny. I know Arthur. He did. That’s got to mean something.”

It took a while for Sunny to respond, his hitching sobs quieting enough that he could form words. Both… both of them did. John… he wouldn’t have… he wouldn’t have let it go if he hadn’t. He took a moment, breath hitching again as a new tremor rocked his incorporeal body. I… I don’t know that I can… make promises.

“Promises for what, sunshine?” said Parker softly.

About… merging, he said, the word like a death sentence. I… I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I think I have to, Parker, it’s not about… I don’t know that I have a choice.

“All we talked about with that asshole, and I didn’t ask that,” Parker murmured. “Fuck. They’re gonna make me choose.” He dug his hands into his eyes. “Well. I’m gonna. And if he says he’s gonna take you, we’re gone. I’m sorry about Arthur, but I won’t stay.”

If I have to, Sunny said, his voice soft, I’ll use what’s left of me to… to make sure you can be free, Parker. I swear.

“I don’t wanna be free. I want you.”

We might not get that happy ending, Parker, Sunny said, voice soft. Resigned. You’re the only good thing that’s ever happened to me. I… I should have known better.

“Fuck that. We earned our happiness and I’m not letting go.” His voice cracked. “I could run. Right now. But I think… I think Arthur and Faroe might pay for it, and I don’t think we’d like that. Either of us. And he’d catch us, anyway.” He rubbed his eyes. “Gonna be a grownup and find out what the fucking King needs to leave you alone. He likes deals. He’ll take it, if the pot’s sweet enough.”

The Outer God would make all of them pay for it, Sunny said, weak. What if… what if there’s no other way, Parker?

Parker was quiet for a long moment. “I can’t accept that.”

We might not have a choice.

“Don’t know that yet.” Parker didn’t do denial often, but when he did, he planted a flag. “If there’s no way… I dunno. Maybe he can fucking eat me, too.”

Sunny growled.

And maybe it was Parker’s turn to push. “What do you care? You’ll be gone. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t wanna be without you.”

You… Sunny stopped. Thought. I don’t know that I would allow that.

Parker’s voice was warm, heated even, challenging. “And how are you gonna stop me?”

I don’t know, he said. I don’t… I don’t know, Parker. I don’t know anything anymore. Sunny let out a soft sniffle. The only thing I know for sure is that I love you.

“Yeah. Me, too.” Parker swallowed. “I used to laugh at guys who lost their shit and did stupid things when in love. Guess it’s real, after all.” He took a slow breath. “Are we going to war against a god?”

I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe there’s another way, Sunny said. We’ve got five years. That’s not nothing.

“Yeah. There are probably all kinds of things we could do. I just…” He looked at his hands. “I don’t like the thought of heading down Larson’s path. I like healing. I don’t want to lose what we’ve become by chasing weapons, or whatever. No, we gotta be clever. I’m fighting for you, Sunny. I won’t listen if you tell me not to. Not this time. Not in this. And if it means I get smashed in a duel or something because there’s no way to save you… I’d rather go out trying.”

You could never head down Larson’s path, Parker, Sunny said, voice a gentle whisper. I… I need to think. I need to think about everything. But… thank you.

“For breaking my promise?” His voice cracked. “I don’t… like doing it. And I’ll understand if you don’t fucking trust me again.”

Parker… I trust you. You got me to Carcosa. You brought me home. We didn’t… know, then, what lay ahead. I know you didn’t just… do this lightly. And because it bore saying again: I know you’re not Larson.

Finally, Parker touched his lips. They could both taste a little blood. “Still got no regrets.”

I’m sorry I snapped at you. I… I don’t know what came over me. I won’t do it again.

“I’m glad you did,” Parker said. “You know what I’m sorry for?”

You shouldn’t be sorry for anything, Sunny said quietly.

“I am, though. I should’ve told you this deal was upsetting me. Then maybe I wouldn’t have blown up on you. I’m sorry for that. I sat on it, and it went bad. I won’t do that again.”

Sunny was quiet for a moment. Thank you, he whispered, the sound full of tears. I understand why… why you didn’t. Thank you.

“Well. I never said I couldn’t be dumb.” He sighed, looking at his blood on the boulder. “Uh. Is it dangerous to leave part of myself on this thing?”

I don’t think it’d be wise. Can… can I heal your hands? Or do you need that, right now?

Parker swallowed. “Could you?”

Always. Always, Parker. Ph’lloig. Their breath ghosted over their knuckles, which itched as the wounds closed and the skin knit back together, leaving nothing but drying blood crusting the lines of his hands, and Sunny gently kissed them, as if apologizing.

“And you said you’re useless,” said Parker. “Dunno what I’d have done without you. You made me fight harder to stay alive. You matter. Your presence fucking matters.”

Sunny sucked in a shaky, incorporeal breath. I can’t… I can’t hold you. But I can heal you, and… Well, we can burn away the remnants of you here, so no one has a chance to gain power over you. The magic for that was easy, and the bright red blood vanished under scorch marks.

“But you do hold me. Maybe not with hands, but you do.” Parker stood.

Not the way I want to, Sunny said, soft and wounded and tired. We’re… okay? You and me?

“I dunno,” said Parker. “You mad at me?”

No.

Parker sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Broke my promise. Made you cry.”

And I was awful to you, for no reason except that I was… I don’t even know what I was feeling. Sunny sighed.

“You know I forgive you, right?” Parker said.

Sunny was quiet for a long moment. I think… I think I do, he said, soft. And I forgive you. Are you ready to go back?

“Yeah.” Parker paused. “I feel dumb. That was some rookie shit back there.”

Wh… with the King?

Parker sighed, heading slowly back toward the gleam and gold of Carcosa. “Arthur told us Hastur was fucked up after Gokar’luh.”

After having to kill our son. Yes.

“Humans and gods, they ain’t so different,” Parker said. “Think back. Aimes case, about three months after we got here.”

The widower? Sunny said, sounding dubious.

“Remember why he was picking all those fights?”

Sunny gasped. You said that was like Arthur when you found him.

“Both those guys wanted to be shanked and wanted to be left alone. Hastur can’t be shanked..,.”

But he…

“Can drive everyone away from him. And I fell for it. I let him get to me. Flip the script on me. Real newbie shit.”

Parker, he… he’s thousands of years old. He’s a god. He…

“Didn’t do nothing a genius perp wouldn’t do. I ain’t saying he’s not brilliant, because he is. But I went in unprepared.”

Sunny sighed. That’s… you never cease to amaze me. You got your heart cut out, and you’re unraveling him.

“It’s what I do. It’s how I get through shit. It’s my blueprint.”

I know, Sunny whispered. If it has to happen… if I have to join him… please… do that instead of being eaten.

Parker walked, hands in his pockets. “This is me trying real hard not to leverage my survival to keep you going. That ain’t healthy.”

I…

“I won’t, Sunny.”

I don’t… know what I can promise or not.

“Just stick with me.” He caressed his jaw. “Imperfect, fucking amateur, temperamental, full of shit, more stupid than brave.”

Only if you stick with me, Sunny almost whispered. Manipulative. Weak. Evil. Cowardly. Selfish.

Parker suddenly laughed. “Who in fuck are we even describing?”

M-maybe some perps we should take down, Sunny managed, and added a shaky laugh.

“I love you,” Parker said. “Whatever he wanted to do by fucking me up like that, he failed. We’re going after him again, and getting the rest of our answers.”

Parker’s tongue trembled. N-not yet? Please?

“Oh, fucking yeah not yet. We’re getting some chocolate, cheese and crackers and grapes, some damn good whiskey, and we’re calling off the rest of the day. I’ll put the damn bed in front of the door if I have to.”

That sounds… good.

“Yeah. It does.” They marched back inside, and didn’t speak again until they were safe and sound in their room.

[sunghoons-mole]

it’s too late.

GENRE // ex!park sunghoon x afab!reader (ft. bf!jungwon)

WARNINGS // angst, heartbreaking, sunghoon is a complete ass (he would never, hes an angel) 

FROM THE AUTHOR // this is the first fic ive posted without proper capitalization. if that bothers you, i apologize. this fic was a shower thought, and i was just in a hurry to get it all out before it left my brain lol. enjoy !

the knock on your door was so sudden that you almost dropped the book you were reading. 

that’s how disasters begin, isn’t it? a knock on the door. you’d read enough books to know. 

setting the book on the coffee table, you walked towards the door slowly, sure it was nothing to be worried about. wiping your sweaty palms on your pants didn’t make the doorknob less slippery. 

when you saw sunghoon through the cracked door, you slammed it shut again, turning the lock and putting your back against it. but you were sure he could hear the steady drum of your heartbeat as panic washed over you. 

but not just panic. longing. 

“y/n, let me in.” his voice seemed to impale the wood that separated the two of you. you hated how quickly you listened to him.

closing the door and locking it behind him, you turn to face him, crossing your arms. you refused to speak first. 

“i know i suck.” he scratched his neck, looking at the floor. “i should have called. i-”

“you shouldn’t have left in the first place,” you yelled back, unable to stay quiet. your heart felt heavy, seeing him here for the first time in 8 months. it was normal for him to disappear on you without notice, for him to break your heart time and time again. but 8 months was the longest he’d ever left you. what in the hell was he doing back at your door? 

“y/n, love, can we just sit for a minut-”

“no. say what you need to say, so you can leave.” in a matter of minutes you had become too fired up to sit back down, and you weren’t in the mood to hear him out, not when you had spent 8 months putting yourself back together. 

and how dare he call you love again. 

“okay, okay.” you could tell he was slightly frightened by your raised voice. good. he deserved to be as scared as you were when you woke up to see that he was gone once again, wondering if he was safe. if he was okay. if he even cared about you at all. 

“i don’t know how to tell you. fuck,” he whispered, pacing the floor. you stepped away from the front door, clearing your throat and growing impatient. 

“i was afraid.” he stopped in place, looking at you. “of you. of... commitment.”

god, he sounded so typical. 

“and i let that drive me away. i thought if i just disappeared, it would hurt less for both of us.” 

if you had any doubts that sunghoon was sincere, they vanished at the sight of a tear rolling down his cheek. 

“and god, i was so fucking wrong.” his voice broke, and you felt your heart break along with it.

“everything i did, everywhere i went, i was kicking myself. because i wished you were there with me. doing it all with me. and i knew i fucked up.”

as compelled as you were to forgive him, you had realized a lot in the past 8 months. 

“you left several times before, hoon.” he winced at the nickname. “and yeah, you fucked up. every. single. time. you walked out that door.” your voice was growing hoarse from the yelling, and because you were on the verge of tears. how could he do this to you? how could he show up again, ruining all the progress you’d made on letting him go? 

“but i’m here now,” he whispered. “i’m telling you that i love you.” he steps forward, cupping your jaw with one hand. “please give me another chance.”

you pushed his chest away from you. “how do i know you won’t just up and leave again, park sunghoon?” you were full on crying then, unable to act tough and unbothered any longer. “you broke me. i spent so much time cleaning up the mess you made of me. and you come marching over here to make a mess of me again.” 

his expression was worried, sorrowful, pitiful. more tears fell as he took a step towards you again, tucking the hair behind your ear. “i won’t make that mess again, y/n. please trust me. i love you, so much. and i’m so fucking sorry it took me that long to come to terms with that.” 

just as the temptation to melt into his arms began, your phone rang from the couch. you jumped then, staring at sunghoon, your tear-soaked eyes meeting his tear-soaked ones. you backed toward the couch and picked up the phone. 

“hey,” you started, trying not to let it show that you had just been broken into pieces once more. you couldn’t let him know. 

but jungwon didn’t need a magnifying glass to find even the tiniest cracks in your composure. “baby, are you okay?” 

the worry in jungwon’s voice saved you, wrapping a bandage around your heart and knocking some sense into you. jungwon was love. jungwon was compassion. jungwon was everything sunghoon had been lacking for the past several years. you weren’t dumb enough to throw that to the wolves. 

“i’m okay, wonnie.” you looked up, locking eyes with sunghoon who was holding his breath. “i’ve just had a bit of a rough day.”

“i’m on my way home now. i was calling to see if you wanted me to grab us dinner.” you could hear the windshield wipers going through the phone. had it started to rain? “how do tacos sound, lovely?”

“sounds perfect, jungwon. thank you.” sunghoon lowered his eyes, staring at the floor and putting his hands in his pockets. 

and all of a sudden, it didn’t hurt so much anymore. the pain seemed to be numbed by some sort of metaphorical cold compress, and you didn’t feel so bad for sunghoon in that moment. he had dug his own grave on this one. it wasn’t your fault if he hated lying in it. 

“i’ll be home soon. cozy up with a blanket, okay? it’ll make you feel better. besides, the rain is going to cool down the air. i want you to be warm until i get there.” jungwon giggled into the speaker. “i have plenty of hugs to catch up on. should warm you up real nice, i hope.”

you couldn’t hide your smile even if you tried. wiping your cheeks, you hung up the phone and set it on the coffee table, next to your book. 

sunghoon walked closer to you. “i should be going...”

“yeah. that would probably be best.” you looked down, crossing your arms.

you were caught off guard by him pulling you into a hug. you were stiff for a moment, but the familiar feel of his arms around you caused your heart to betray you. hugging him back, you buried your face in his chest one last time.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t be who you needed me to be.” he whispered, resting his chin on your head. “if jungwon ever mistreats you, i’m here.” you felt a teardrop in your hair as his chest shook against your cheek. “one call, and i’m here.”

you pulled away, shaking your head. “he won’t.” you went to the door and held it open, taking one last look at your first love. there was pain in his eyes, beggin you to let him stay, and he was still crying. 

you couldn’t remember if you’d ever seen him cry at all. 

you managed to tear your eyes away from him. “it’s too late, hoon.”

he nodded, eyes never leaving the ground as he walked out the door. 

~

thanks for reading ! with love, sunghoons-mole

[subverbaldreams]

I don’t have anywhere else to say this.

This weekend, after a fucking HORRIFIC day, I was on the way home with my husband.

I’d been having health issues. My blood pressure had been high recently: stage 2 hypertension. I’d started to try & get medical help, but with no PCP hadn’t gotten far.

In the car, I had radiating pain/tension in my left-side neck and jaw. My left arm became numb and tingling. I had reflux and nausea. I looked up heart attack symptoms on my phone and saw similarities. On the way home from a long day, the symptoms became impossible to ignore.

I asked my hubs to take me to an ER, just to be safe. He started driving faster.

Very suddenly, all my limbs went numb. The tingling felt like pain. I was calm, yet certain I was having a heart attack. All my body became distant and hurt unbearably. My vision grayed out. I’ve never felt so disconnected from my body, yet in so much pain. I said so out loud, from far away: “I think I’m dying.” I was certain I was going to die or have an unrecoverable event. My body stopped responding. I couldn’t speak. I was numb yet in horrible discomfort/pain. My husband was frantically on the phone with 911.

I said, “Pull over!” As soon as he did, I opened the door and started to vomit. In excruciating pain, I stumbled out of the car and laid on the grass along the highway. I puked into my hands; it pooled on my face and hands. I had zero control. I heard my husband talking to the dispatcher. I thought: I don’t want to leave him like this.

In some time (I don’t know how much), the agony in my limbs eased. The vomiting stopped. I pushed away from it and laid panting. I was covered in buckets of freezing sweat. I heard him telling the dispatcher that I was sweating and feverish. I thought: I’ve had a heart attack but maybe it’s salvageable now. Because I wasn’t feeling as much in pain and I was more cognizant.

Some cops showed up and asked what was going on, asked if I’d taken drugs or been drinking. By then, I could speak a little. Soon after, EMS arrived. They helped me up (it took 2 tries, my leg kept cramping) and I got onto the stretcher and strapped in. I was shaking uncontrollably. Once I got onto the stretcher, I started crying. The lady asked questions, asked about how I felt & how stressful had my day been (very).

While in the ambulance, the EMT told me my symptoms sounded like a panic attack. I said, “you’re fucking kidding me.” All of that, and it was just some brain shit. Not that I’m upset about being well, physically. I’m very grateful for that. I just hate being stuck with the “crazy” label.

I hadn’t been panicked. That’s the thing! The pain started, I couldn’t get away from it, then everything closed in and I was very calmly sure that it was the end. I had been certain I was going to die or be permanently altered, because I’d never felt something like that. I never knew a “panic attack” could come without actual feelings of fear. Apparently, just adrenaline and whatever else survival chemical. I genuinely thought I was going to die and all I could say was “I’m sorry” and “I love you” to the only man who’s had my back through everything.

[tattooedechoes]

The Performance

I want to be female.

Or at least

I want to blend in.

So I try to pretend.

But so many things

Shatter the illusion

That I am creating.

.

.

The thoughts spiralling

“As long as I’m what they want

They fuck me

As long as I’m what they want

They love me.”

But for some reason I’m not.

I’m not what they want.

And at first it was only

When I did this thing,

Or looked like that,

Or talked that way,

But now it’s more constant.

An always,

Instead of

A sometimes.

.

.

No one ever compliments me.

On my hair,

On my eyes,

On the body

I loathe to inhabit,

And have actively started to despise

Due to my failed performance.

.

.

I don’t even get that unwanted attention.

I don’t catch the eyes of strangers,

I don’t get felt up while taking the train,

Or feel someone watching me walk past them.

It’s all empty and void,

They all look away.

Like I’m awful,

disgusting,

like I should be ashamed.

.

.

It feels like my body is wrong.

My squared off jaw.

The crooked shape of my brows.

The acne won’t go,

And I pick at my skin.

I keep my hair long

To sustain the performance,

To hope,

And pray,

And believe,

That it makes me look feminine.

.

.

I grow facial hair,

At first just a little

But now it’s a lot.

Faster than my male partner.

And I hid under a mask

On a drive home one day,

Just so he wouldn’t have

To look at my face.

Because of an offhand comment

About facial hair not looking right

On girls.

.

.

I hate the effort

of shaving everything.

But if I don’t it grows back,

And it grows dark.

And I can’t stand to look

At the hair on my arms.

At the hair on my face.

At the hair on my stomach.

At the hair on my chest.

.

.

Sometimes when we have sex

I want to cry,

To scream

In pure terror

And embarrassment.

Because looking at my body,

I don’t see what he sees.

I don’t understand

How my hairy legs aren’t disturbing,

How the fat rolls don’t look

Like they’re so unappealing.

.

.

‘Girl’ clothes don’t fit now,

Since I gained all the weight.

Not that I really wore any

Before anyway.

But now it’s all exercise pants

And branded gaming tees

Hiding my body

To not offend

To please.

But the shapes are all wrong,

So I try to have none at all.

Because it hurts less

When I see my reflection

And my figure is obscured.

.

.

I am caught in bouts of jealousy

Of the attention I garnered

As a young teen

In an underweight body,

Getting felt up by boys,

Being talked to by men.

Because it hasn’t happened once

Since I became an adult.

I get jealous

Jealous!

Of others tales of sexual harassment.

Because at least they are wanted,

Are sexy,

Are performing the gender,

I so desperately want to.

.

.

I see so many others

Performing so much better

Than me.

There’s a guy online,

Who looks more feminine than me.

And it hurts,

That as someone born a woman

I can’t seem to look the part.

And I can see my sister

Performing so much better than me,

So effortlessly,

And it hurts.

They’re performing their gender

The way they feel is correct,

.

.

But I never do it right.

It’s always off,

Always just a little bit wrong.

I had no one to teach me

How to be a girl

The right kind of way.

So I taught myself.

But it seems that the lessons I learned

We’re from drastically different books.

I always looked

So obviously out of place

With all the girls my age.

.

.

No matter how hard I tried

To look like anything at all

I always look wrong.

Like a laughing stock.

The clown at the parade,

Face painted like a fool,

That you point at and bend over

As your sides start hurting.

.

.

I just want to be pretty

I want someone to say it.

I want to feel it every day

I want everyone to see it.

I want to be putting on that performance

And for no one to question

If it’s the right side of the stage.