#enemies to fuckers

[punkrockmlchael]

English

Masterlist

Gareth Emerson x Fem Cheerleader!Reader

Enemies to Lovers (Fuckers)? (Both Gareth and Reader are 18+)

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Verbally Fighting (Degrading Name Calling and Lots of Swearing), Mentions of Family Issues/Problems, Sexual Tension, Plot with Smut, Smut: Oral (Male Receiving, he’s a head pusher! And he face fucks you..), Cum eating, Slight Fingering, Unprotected Sex, PinV, Sex in the old cheer closet, Submissive Gareth, Dominant Gareth (he's both in this okay you'll see, baby boy has issues), afab reader

This idea came to me based off of a bot on character.ai and wow I ran with it and this is filthy. FILTHY. No like seriously, I think I need holy water after writing this.

Synopsis: You're one of the Star Cheerleaders at Hawkin's High who's actually had quite a tough life, though you never admit it to anyone who's not close to you. You show up everyday with a smile on your face despite your problems at home. However, the fact that you're a cheerleader is something Gareth automatically hates about you. He hates popular kids, and anyone he thinks had it 'better' than he, the freak, did growing up. So when you get partnered to work with him for an English project you can't help but just go off on each other, true colors coming out.

Word Count: 5.1k

-

Your English teacher was definitely a teacher that believed group projects were the highlight of high school. Each semester you'd walk into the room with your name next to a new one, and so far you've been pretty lucky with who you've been partnered up with, you couldn't complain.

So when you walked in on the first day of the last semester, you searched the board for your name and the name next to it. You stopped in your tracks and shook your head in disbelief, reading the name next to yours.

Chrissy, the cheer captain and one of your best friends, stood next to you, almost running into you when you decided to stop so abruptly to read the board. She followed your gaze and cringed for you.

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry... you're partnered with... the freak!" She said, trying to hold back a giggle. You shook your head and groaned softly, looking around the room.

You and Gareth absolutely hated each other, and to this day you're still not sure why. Every interaction you've ever had with this boy has been filled with glares, scoffs, and swear words back and forth.

He hated you and you hated him.

You eventually found Gareth in the back corner of the room, sitting close to the windows; his gaze on the trees outside of the window. You walked over to him, taking a seat next to him. You glanced your eyes over towards him, taking in his appearance.

Black band tee, red flannel vest with pins scattered about, black skinny jeans, skull and bones chain around his neck and rings on his fingers. His brown messy curls sat just above his bright blue eyes, freckles dusting across his face.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't think that he was attractive.

When you took a seat next to him, Gareth looked up at you, taking in your appearance. Your green and white cheer uniform clung perfectly to your body, showing off your curves in all the right places. Your long hair fell down your back, curled perfectly with your sparkly white cheer bow pinned in the back of it.

Your outfit was enough for him to come to one conclusion: you're still a cheerleader and he still doesn't like you... in fact, he despises you.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Not a fucking cheerleader. Just, don't get us an F this semester, okay?" He asked, looking back up at the board in the front of the room.

"Whatever, you fucking ass." You growled back, your blood boiling. "I hate you."

"The feeling is very much mutual."

Once the bell rang to signal the start of class your teacher stood at the front of the classroom, explaining your assignment for the semester. "Okay, class. One of the main things to do will be analyzing all of these short stories together as pairs. Now, back to the one we most recently looked at. What do you think the minor character represents?" She asked, looking around the room.

You sat quietly, looking at the notes you had written in your notebook regarding that specific short story. When no one answered you raised your hand slowly, smiling a little when the teacher nodded at you. Gareth's eyes darted towards you and he snickered a little, waiting to hear your explanation for this.

You took a deep breath and started your monologue.

"I personally struggled with the representation of this character for a while, and it took myself a good couple read throughs to come up with what I believe the character is representing. I personally believe this character is a representation of death—and not in the literal sense but more in the figurative sense. Our main character doesn't lose anyone close to him in death during this story, but he does lose one thing: his childhood. This minor character is only mentioned briefly, and he brings about a sense of childlike wonder to our main character, reminding him how it was to see life through the eyes of a child, be free and not have a care in the world. But soon after we don't see that minor character again, the main character has turmoils and responsibilities that catch up to him... he's not able to see the world through the eyes of a child anymore. He just loses his innocence." You clear your throat a little, leaning forward in your seat, your arms resting on top of your desk before you continued. "And I personally believe that this is also a metaphor that we can take into our everyday lives, for instance in middle school you are still able to look through the looking glass of life set on the child's viewfinder but once you reach highschool every thing just... changes. The friends you had may drift off, everyone having different responsibilities and turmoils of their own, some people don't share those turmoils and challenges while others are an open book, showing those challenges off to everyone. I believe that's the point of the character. To show that at some point, your childhood dies, and unfortunately, it happens at a different point for everyone."

The teacher smiled wide, listening to your response. She nodded her head along and agreed. The students in the classroom all smiled and nodded as well, silently praising your answer.

Gareth looked at you, taking in your answer. He was both impressed and taken aback by your response, though he would never admit it to you.

He sat back in his own seat, crossing his arms over his chest before he watched you carefully, trying to pick you apart piece by piece—physically and mentally. His eyes scanned up and down your body as you repositioned yourself back in your seat. Your skirt crept up your thighs ever so slightly, exposing more skin than Gareth had ever seen on you. He stared slightly, watching the white fabric sit higher and higher on your thighs with every move you made before he snapped out of it.

"I bet you didn't even think of that yourself," Gareth muttered under his breath after a while, looking at his own notebook.

"Jealous that a cheerleader had the answer and you didn't?" You smirked, your eyes not looking at him. He scoffed.

"Like I said, you probably cheated to get that answer. There's no way you came up with that in your own."

You shook your head, looking at your notes again. "Whatever, you dick." You mumbled.

"Bitch." He said under his breath.

The class went on slowly, and you just wanted it to be over so you could finally head home for the day, and get as far away from Gareth as humanly possible.

The bell rang and everyone sprung from their seats, heading towards the door. You packed up your backpack with your book and notebook, trying to get out of the classroom as soon as you could.

Gareth walked over towards you and smirked, wanting to start shit.

"Nice answer. You're so dumb, there's literally no way you came up with that answer on your own. I bet you only came up with half of that answer, if that." He said, moving closer to you.

"I really just think you're jealous that you weren't able to come up with that answer on your own, you fucking ass." You nodded, your eyes meeting his. You pushed past him, hitting his shoulder with yours as you walked by.

"Hey, what the fuck?" He yelled, looking at you.

You turned around and smirked at him, flipping him off with both of your hands before you kept walking towards the front of the building to the doors.

Giving him not one, but two fingers was a bad idea. His anger was through the roof at this point, there was steam coming out of his ears.

He walked after you quickly, yelling at you as he did.

"What the fuck is your problem, you slut?" He yelled, speeding up to catch up with you.

"What the fuck is your problem, you dick?" You asked, continuing to walk away from him.

Gareth followed after you and cornered you outside. He placed his hands on the wall beside you, trapping you against the cold, brick wall.

"What the hell, you can't just act all smug and then walk away." He growled, staring into your eyes.

You looked back into his eyes with a smirk plastered on your face. "I'm pretty sure I just did," you said, innocently.

His anger grew at your innocent act.

"You're a fucking bitch, you know that? You're not even that pretty anyways." He scoffed, looking at you. His grip on the wall beside you grew harder as did his anger towards you. Your stare at him however was unfazed by his words and actions.

"Yeah, I know that. Thank you. Believe me, I hear that everyday. There is nothing you can say that I haven't heard a million times already. Too ugly, too dumb, too talkative, too annoying, too sassy, too much of a freak. You're fighting a losing battle." Your stare intensifies as you cross your arms over your chest, your back fully resting on the wall behind you now.

"Well, if you're not pretty and everyone thinks you're annoying then why are you a cheerleader? You sound pretty useless to me." He spit back, trying to get a reaction out of you. But he didn't, you stood your ground.

"Yeah, I've been told I'm useless since I was born. Like I said, nothing you say will hurt me." You stepped closer to him, getting into his face. "My childhood died at the ripe age of 10, when did yours die?" You whispered to him, your breath hitting his face.

"Yeah right." He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure your childhood is still alive. I bet your parents love you and probably treat you like a fucking princess." He shot back, moving his face even closer to yours, now only inches separated you.

You glared at him, moving back to lean against the wall. "Not that I owe you a fucking explanation or the time of day for that matter; but I haven't seen my parents since I was 15. They got a divorce, my mom moved away and my dad eventually went to jail. I live with my aunt and I only do cheer so she can get me out of the fucking house. It's an outlet for me that allows me to forget about my fucked up life and childhood for as long as I can." You moved closer to his face again. "Any other insights you want to know about my perfect life, Mr. Fucking Cocky?" You shouted in his face.

Gareth felt bad now, and though he didn't want to admit it... he sympathized with you on your story and situation. But, he was such a hot head that he wasn't going to let you 'win' this argument.

"Yeah, well, that doesn't explain why you're always such a bitch to me. All the fucking time." He yelled back, moving his body closer to yours. He was, at this point, pinning your body to the brick wall behind you with his.

You laughed coldly, looking up at him. "I actually have never done anything to you. Every time the cheer team and the jocks are attacking you and your friends I actually stick up for you guys... God only knows why. And, I thought maybe being partnered together for this assignment was a way to actually see how you are and what you're like; I really did kind of want to get to know you. You do seem like you've had it rough and I wanted to get to know the real you, although, it seems like I already have. I'm the type of person where if you burn your bridge with me—it's gone. You were a dick to me, so I'm a bitch back to you. Congratulations, Gareth, another one bites the dust!" You shook your head and stared at him. "I actually thought you would be a nice and genuine person but hey, maybe I am a stupid cheerleader because I believed you had a heart." You poked his chest as you spoke the last words, glaring at him.

He stared back at you, taking in your words before trying to find his own to retort back. "I'm the dickhead? I have no heart?" He scoffed, looking you up and down. "I thought you were just some basic, stuck up cheerleader and I can see now that I was right. You're probably too dumb for your own good."

"Clearly your childhood isn't dead yet if you still need to win every fucking argument and get the last word in every time. It's like they say in middle school... if a guy makes fun of you and teases you, then he must have a crush on you." You smirked slightly, leaning in closer to him. "Well, if this is how you treat me, then, baby boy, you must be whipped over me." You leaned back against the wall again, waiting for his reaction. "Need some attention from a girl, huh?"

"You wish," he mumbled. "You think I'm just some... weakling like you who's never been with a girl? Well, you have it all wrong. I've been with plenty of girls before; I've kissed girls before and felt them up."

"So have I. You aren't special."

You response was not something he was expecting, jealousy boiling inside of him. "Oh, I'm sure you have." He said sarcastically, "and just how many? One? Two?" He leaned in closer, whispering in your ear, "just how easy are you?"

"Judging by the jealousy in your voice even if my answer is one it's still probably more than you have." You smirked, looking at him. "You've kissed? And felt up? What, did you squeeze a boob and that was it? Or, did a girl actually let you see her naked?"

"How fucking dare you." He growled, moving closer to you. "You talk a lot of shit. You're just some slutty cheerleader." He snickered. "You probably go behind the bleachers and fuck every guy that gives you any form of attention."

You moved your face close to his, your breath hitting his lips. "Wrong again, baby boy. You're giving me attention right now, and I'm not pulling you towards the bleachers now, am I? Although, I'm curious... you talk a big game, able to back yourself up?" You asked, glancing down between his legs before looking back up at him.

He raised an eyebrow at you, feeling your eyes on him. He readjusted his t-shirt, trying to pull it down to hide himself. He stood in front of you, trying to think of a reply to your previous response. "Stop looking at my dick. God, is that all you think about when you look at me?" He snapped, looking at you.

"It's pretty hard not to look at it." You replied, knowing that you have won this fight.

"Shut up." He yelled back, "stop looking at me like that!" He said, his voice breaking slightly as he said it.

"Aw, what's wrong? Has a girl never looked at you like this before?" You asked, batting your eyelashes. "Really, you should take it as a compliment." You added, running your hands up his chest.

He shook his head, his eyes staring at your hands as they move up and down his chest. "Get off of me," he whispered, his breathing catching in his throat.

"I can get you off instead," you winked, moving your face closer to his. Your lips ghosted over his, your breath hitting his lips. "Or, do you not want that?"

He stood there, frozen, staring at you. Your hands on his chest, your lips almost touching his. He wanted it and he wanted you. He moved to look back at your face, his dark, lust filled eyes meeting yours. He leaned in closer, trying to touch his lips to yours.

"Admit I won," you said, looking into his eyes. "Admit I won, admit you want me and, admit you're a dick."

"Yes," he whispered, looking at the ground.

You grabbed his face gently, placing your hand under his chin to move his face to look you in the eyes. "Say it."

"Y-you're better than me." He admitted, looking at you. He released his grip on the wall next to you and stood in front of you, you released your grip from his chin and he leaned in closer.

"That's not what I said. I never said you were better than me, just that I won this round."

"Just, shut up and kiss me." Gareth mumbled, looking at you. "Please, just.. shut up and kiss me, now." He pleaded, looking at you.

"Talk a big game, but need to beg for what you want, huh?" You smirked, leaning closer to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and closed the gap, kissing his lips roughly.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands immediately going to your hips, squeezing them tightly. He stepped closer to you, pinning your body to the brick wall with his, shamelessly grinding up against you.

You moaned softly, licking his bottom lip with your tongue, wanting entrance into his mouth. He opened his mouth, allowing you the entrance as his tongue fought with yours for dominance. After a while, he finally gave up, letting you take the lead of the intense kiss.

Your hands made their way up to the base of his neck, playing with his curls gently. He pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at you. "Fuck," he mumbled. He looked around quickly, scanning his surroundings.

"What? Afraid someone's going to see you with a cheerleader?" You teased, kissing his lips again. He pulled away and shook his head.

"No," he mumbled, catching his breath. "I want to fuck you but I can't really do that in public," he corrected you, looking at you.

"Hm," you said, thinking for a second. "There's an old cheer closet we can go to; that's basically what the cheerleaders use it for now, to hookup with boys we find hot," you mumbled, leaning closer to him.

"You find me hot?" Gareth asked, getting a little red in the face.

"Yeah, but don't let it go to your head. I'm a dumb cheerleader, remember? It doesn't matter what I think," you replied, leaving kisses up and down his neck. He groaned, tightening his grip on your waist.

"Cheer closet. Now." He growled, releasing his grip on your waist.

You smirked, placing a soft kiss on his lips before you walked back into the school, with Gareth trailing behind you at a short distance. He didn't want to let everyone else know he was going to fuck you in a closet, but, the thought of that did sound amazing to him.

You went down the hall to a section of the school that's a bunch of supply closets for sports, looking around again to make sure no one was actively using the closet. You opened the door and looked at him, motioning for him to go inside. He walked past you, smacking your ass with his right hand before he walked inside, waiting for you.

You jumped when his hand met your ass, looking at him with a darkened look. You slid a scrunchie off your wrist onto the door handle to let any other cheerleaders know that someone was... using the closet before you walked after him, locking the door from the inside.

"You girls seriously have a closet to hookup in?" Gareth asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the wall. You shrugged, setting your bag down on the floor.

"Hello, we're whores," you said, looking at him.

"Are you actually though?" He asked softly, looking you up and down.

"I pulled you into here, didn't I?" You asked, stepping closer to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and connected your lips to his again. He wrapped his arms around your waist, one hand moving down to your ass. He squeezed your left ass cheek roughly, shoving his tongue in your mouth again, this time winning in dominance.

He pulled you closer, grinding against you before he pulled away from the kiss. "You pulled me in here willingly," he said softly, looking at you. "Why?" He asked, pushing a strand of your curled hair behind your ear.

You shrugged, looking up at him. "I think you're reading too much into this," you sighed, running your hands down his chest and stopping at his belt. "If you fucking read into stuff this much in English class we would be able to get an easy A," you mumbled, undoing his belt.

He bit his lip and watched you finesse his belt and jeans before you pulled them down gently, lowering yourself to your knees in front of him.

"Hey, I do my work," he argued, watching you as you pulled his pants down around his ankles. "And, I'm actually a straight B student, thank you very much." He added.

"Save it," you mumbled, tugging his boxers down. His erection sprang free, and you looked up at him, smirking a little. "So, you can back up your big talk, huh?" You asked, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock gently. You squeezed it gently before you pumped it a couple of times, looking up at him.

"Fuck," Gareth groaned, throwing his head back against the wall of the closet gently as you worked on his cock. "Shit, maybe you are a whore," he said, groaning again as you licked a thin strip up his cock.

"So I've been told," you shrugged, licking the tip of his cock before you wrapped your lips around it, bobbing your head slightly.

He moaned, moving his dominant hand to the back of your head, collecting some of your curled hair in a fist before he pushed your head down more, causing you to gag on his cock. He moaned louder, looking down at you as you bobbed your head, working his cock in and out of your mouth.

"Such a pretty whore," he grunted, moving your head more with his hand. "Taking my cock like a good little girl and choking on it for me? Such a good girl," he said, making eye contact with you. You moaned around his cock, his words adding to the pooling heat in your panties. He grunted a small laugh, looking at you as he kept moving your head for you. "You like that, huh?" He asked, "you like it when I call you a good girl?" You moaned again, your eyes rolling back in your head slightly as he continued to fuck your face.

You kept bobbing your head, moving your hands to his thighs gently to help stable yourself. You gagged on his cock again, groaning around him. The vibrations from your mouth made his moan, throwing his head back again.

"Fuck, you're good with your mouth. You can tell someone off with it and you're so good at using it on a cock," he groaned, closing his eyes. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he added, thrusting into your mouth again.

You moaned around him again, looking up at him. His eyes were closed tightly and his eyebrows furrowed as he bit his lip roughly. His curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, small beads of sweat running down his temples slightly.

Seeing him like this, come undone because of your mouth, made you whine around his cock. Seeing him turn into a puddle because of your mouth, it made more and more heat pool to your panties. You moaned again, digging your nails into his thighs as you bobbed your head. He made one last thrust into your mouth and groaned, his body spasming slightly as he came into your mouth. The hot, white liquid spilling into your mouth and onto your tongue.

You swallowed it all, pulling away from his cock as you licked it clean, looking up at him with a wink. He sighed, looking down at you as he released his grip on your hair gently. "Fuck," he breathed, looking at you. He helped you to your feet gently, kissing you roughly, groaning when he tasted himself on you. "Bend over," he growled. "Turn around and bend over. I need to see if you can take this cock in your pretty little pussy as well as you can take it in your mouth."

You moaned, facing away from him before you bent over, pushing your clothed core against his already re-hardened cock. He groaned, moving your panties to the side slightly, rubbing his fingers up and down your slicked folds gently.

"Jesus, you're so fucking wet," he mused, pushing two fingers into you gently.

You whined, biting your lip as you moved back towards him more. "Yeah, because of you," you groaned, closing your eyes at the feeling. "You're such an arrogant fucking dick, but somehow, you make me so wet beyond belief." You added, choking out a loud moan as he pumped his fingers in and out of you gently.

"Perfect, that's just the way I like it," he smirked, removing his fingers from your core. He repositioned his cock at your core and pushed into you slowly, groaning as he felt your warmth engulf him. His hands found your hips as he pulled out of you, only to thrust back into you roughly. You moaned, jumping slightly.

"Fuck, Gareth," you groaned, biting your lip as he kept thrusting in and out of you roughly. "God, fuck, you're such a fucking dick," you said, tears brimming your eyes gently as he thrusted. "You've only ever been a dick to me because I'm a cheerleader. You're so caught up on stereotypes and really you're just—a fucking asshole." You babbled on, moaning and groaning as slammed in and out of you.

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled, groaning as he thrusted more. "I'm a dick. I'm an ass. I'm the worst person to walk the planet. I'm a freak. I'm a loser. I get it," he sighed, tightening his grip on your hips so hard it would definitely leave bruises.

"What did I ever do to you?" You choked out, looking back at him with teary eye. He looked up at you, seeing your face as he paused his thrusts, staying buried deep inside you.

"Honestly? Nothing," he replied, feeling guilty and stupid. He leaned over your back, moving his face closer to you. "You just, I guess I was just... jealous of you. And your friends. And the life I, well, the life I thought you had," he added. "I'm sorry, okay? Really, I truly am." He said, looking at you. "And, I know that that doesn't really help, I understand I was a complete dick to you. And I probably ruined your high school career. And that I probably messed up every opportunity I could have possibly had to be with you." He rambled on, looking into your eyes with deep regret and sorrow. "But I'm so fucking sorry; you didn't deserve anything I did to you. You're so beautiful; you have the prettiest smile I think I've ever seen, your eyes are this ridiculously awesome color that I can't even describe, your body is fucking amazing. You're literally.. the prettiest girl I've ever met."

You sniffled a little, listening to his words. You looked down and gently pulled away from him, instantly feeling the loss of him not inside you. He sighed, releasing his grip on your hips. "I really fucked up, didn't I?" He asked, watching you stand up.

You turned to face him and walked towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck gently. "Do you mean that?" You asked, looking at him. "Like, all of that? Do you mean every word you just said?" He nodded, resting his hands on your waist.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

"Just, promise you mean it and that you'll change?" You asked softly, kissing his lips gently. He sighed, kissing you back. He picked you up gently, resting his hands under your thighs. He pushed up against the wall as he slid back into you gently.

"I promise," he grunted, resting his forehead against yours as he thrusted slow and deep inside of you. Your arms moved his biceps, helping to support yourself.

"Then, I forgive you," you moaned, looking at him. He smiled a little, kissing your lips sweetly as he continued to thrust slow and deep, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. "Fuck," you moaned again, resting your head against the wall behind you. "Look, I really hate to break up this whole lovey-dovey, apology, soft and sweet session we had going on, but, I'm really about to cum," you groaned, sighing as you felt the familiar feeling pool up in your lower stomach.

He smiled, leaving soft kisses on your neck. "Then cum for me, beautiful," he mumbled against your neck, picking up the pace of his thrusts slightly. He hit your sweet spot on a deep thrust and you moaned loudly, clenching around him before you released around him, breathing deeply.

"Fuck, Gare," you whined, digging your nails into his biceps. He groaned and thrusted a couple more times before he released inside of you, riding out his high with a few good thrusts.

He sighed, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he held you up against the wall, cock still buried inside of you, twitching slightly.

"You really forgive me?" He asked, looking at you with soft eyes. You looked back at him and smiled a little, pushing his messy curls out of his face.

"If you'll always fuck me like this? Hell yeah," you teased, kissing his lips softly.

"No, I mean it," he asked, pulling away from the kiss gently.

You looked at him, resting your forehead against his. "Let's just get through this English project, please. I need to graduate," you said softly, looking at him. "Maybe it's best we just, put everything behind us and start over," you suggested.

"I think I'm up for that," he said softly, kissing your lips again.

"You're still kind of a dick, though," you mumbled against his lips. He smirked against your lips, sighing.

"Take it or leave it, baby," he mumbled. "You're still kind of a bitch."

"Hm, take it or leave it," you mumbled back, kissing his lips with a small smile on your face.

[badasserywomen]

I love my two murder tanks

[the-bar-sinister]

I think I really prefer the term "rehabilitating' for a villain who's going through a character arc and becoming a better person, over 'redeeming'.

Not only does it take away the culturally christian connotations that "redeeming" has, but rehabilitating also better shows the context of, you know, actually putting in the work and effort to overcome their problems.

From now on, for me, it's not a "villain redemption arc" its a "villain rehabilitation arc."

[the-dragon-hearted]

Part 1

There is a universe, somehow, where everything aligned just perfectly and left four desperate children on Silco's doorstep. A universe where Piltover is just a bit more ruthless: where Vander's connections aren't trustworthy and where his foolish sentimentality wins.

Vander's arrested, in Vi's place. He's so proud of her for trying to do the right thing - but he'll not make a sacrifice out of Felicia's daughter. The violence in the streets has to stop and Piltover won't stop until it has someone to blame for the theft. So the Hound becomes a sacrificial lamb.

But remember, his agreements are flimsier, and the trust between enforcer and undercity is as thin as the razor blade Mylo keeps in his pocket. The gold-trimmed enforcers aren't happy with a Hound dressed in wool - they want the girl. The one Jayce identified. Some pink-haired snot-nosed filthy brat. The thief. The terrorist.

They labeled her a terrorist: Vi. For a near-harmless explosion in a district she would've been beaten in, just for the grime in her hair.

And the Hound won't have that.

For the second time in his life, Vander's knuckles are stained with enforcer blood and the undercity begins to burn. Vi's next to him, eager to fight, but scared. She's just a kid after all. Always eager. Always scared.

Claggor, Mylo, and Powder come running as they limp back to the Last Drop. Powder's too busy crying into Vi's shirt to pay much attention to the screams outside. Reinforcements are just a few minutes away. The rats of the undercity retreat to spare themselves from the brutality beneath an enforcer's heel and the streets grow quieter and quieter. They all know how to slip away when the time demands it, but this is more than sneaking through the sewers and waiting for the storm to pass.

The enforcers, the council, Piltover: they'll keep coming. The blood on Vander and Vi's hands ensures that much. And they don't want him -

He looks to where Vi is hugging Powder back, a: "Sorry Powpow," being breathed. "Didn't mean to scare you -"

He can't let that happen. He can make himself the bigger problem - the biggest threat and that will buy the kids time and give those rich bastards a victory.

But then... it'll just be them.

Claggor's strong, Mylo's sly, Powder's clever, and Vi is brave. They're all tough as nails and they'll make it. At least until this underbelly starts ripping itself around. Vander's a smart man who knows what will happen in his absence, the cannibalistic tendencies of desperate people who need scapegoats.

And Vi's already willing to play the martyr. She proved that much. No, if he leaves he needs to leave them with something. Anything. Something that's as willing to fight for their future as...

That's when he gets the terrible idea. Right around the same time he hears the tell-tale racket of enforcers running down cobblestone. He grabs a bar napkin, and Claggor bars the door. He fumbles messily around for a piece of graphite or a damned pen.

Vi pushes Powder behind her and grabs a half-empty bottle from a table. There's a shatter as she arms herself with razor glass. These kids are well versed at making weapons, they have to be.

They'll only get better at it if he finishes this note. He's signing their lives away to a different demon. There's no guarantee they'll live long enough to give him the note. It's a terrible idea -

"I'll never betray Zaun's children"

Powder's climbing behind the bar with him, clinging to his leg. Mylo climbs over the other side, fiddling with a collection of rusty steak knives. Claggor's grabbed a chair and broke it, two wooden beams in either hand.

Suffocating in the streets is better than dying on a bridge.

"Take this," he gives it to Vi before slipping on his knuckles. "Find Silco. Ask around, and he'll find you."

"What?" it's a challenge from her. She's ready to fight to keep what she has.

She doesn't realize that every fight comes with a loss. And eventually, it's going to take everything from her. Once you bloody those knuckles you never stop - not really.

But not today. Today it'll only take him, and hopefully, she'll remember what they talked about. She'll remember that despite this shitshow - he's proud of her for finding a peaceful solution. He's proud of her for putting down those fists.

But there was no way in hell he was going to let her go.

"Take care of each other," he orders slipping on his other gauntlet. Mylo and Powder stare at him with wide eyes. Claggor's lip is trembling.

"Remember. Remember, to look out for each other!" he orders.

"No!" Powder seems to understand now as Vander pulls the bracings away from the door. She scrambles over the bar with a muffled wail. Mylo stops her right as Vander throws the door open.

"Vander!" Vi screams, but the hound is loose.

He's in the streets and he's set about making these fools remember why they follow the light. Why they fear the undercity so badly they chase its children to sate their fury. Dark things live in the undercity. Zaun's children are raised in air so heavy it turns their lungs to iron. Her streets sharpen their teeth and build calluses over their knuckles until the only thing they feel is the warm crimson in their wake.

Vander had hoped he'd never do this - be this. But jaws shatter under his fist faster than glasses fill with his whiskey. He's good at this. Always has been. The kids slip away - he knows that much.

Everything else is a bit of a blur. He glimpses Ekko, once, on the rooftops. The boy heads after the other four and Vander is thankful for that. Benzo didn't survive the first wave... he doesn't have much chance to reflect on that because there's another enforcer in his grip and a new scream in the air.

He buys the kids plenty of time. Too much time.

Enough time for all of Zaun to hear the news: the Hound's fighting back! Five enforcers are dead! Six! Ten! Enough time for Vi and Mylo to find their informants.

Silco isn't exactly a subtle name. He's well hidden, that's true, but a familiar blond limped his way over to one of the abandoned warehouses after Vi kicked the shit out of him. Word on the street is that he's in with someone named Silco. Doesn't mean much to the informant or to Vi.

It's enough. They slip into one of Zaun's many industrial districts just as Vander finally falls.

Piltover's attack dogs got him - they would eventually, he knew that much. A wild hound is fierce but numbers always win. Part of him's happy to die on familiar cobblestones. Better than the cool stone of prison - better than anything Piltover had in mind for him. This way, the kids would know what happened to him. They wouldn't do anything stupid.

Well... they'd probably still do some stupid things. He coughed out a laugh, blood hacking out of his lungs as it all began to fade. Good. They deserved to be a bit stupid. They were kids...

Just kids.

Hopefully, Silco remembers that...

Silco? Oh, Silco remembers. He'd been making a plan revolving around that. Kids are foolish. Kids are loyal. Children are painfully easy to manipulate and kill. Children are easy to make disappear.

Killing Vander and his children was quite literally on his upcoming schedule. It was going to be a glorious sort of revenge, making Vander watch it happen - helpless to stop it as he drowned in his own pacifism. It was going to be inhumane. The final nail in Silco's old coffin.

So pardon him for taking a moment to stare at the victims delivered to his doorstep. Half of him wants to laugh. The other half feels like he's been shoved back into that damn river.

The children only stare back, wide-eyed and curious. Scared too... haunted in some wonderfully poetic way.

"Can I help you?" Silco demands cooly after his disbelief has been satiated.

The pink one steps forward, naturally. She's Vander's little favorite, his poster child: basically a replica. Taking charge is probably laced in her veins.

She hands him a napkin.

"He told us to come here," she breathes, and it almost sounds like a prayer.

Silco cannot focus on anything but the napkin.

"Well... not here," the wily boy in the back disagrees slowly as he gives a scathing glance to a dead mouse in the corner. "He told us to find you."

Silco watches them carefully and then unfolds the napkin. If this is a trap it's ridiculous and definitely not Vander's idea. Perhaps these children are simply suicidal - or stupid.

He reads it.

Pauses. Reads it again.

He glances to that pink one again: Violet. Felicia's daughter. The other one is to her right, clinging to the elder's bruised knuckles. Powder... right?

Mylo. And Claggor.

Vander's children.

Vander's children!

He reads it one more time.

"It is kind of messy," Claggor's sheepish tone contradicts his appearance sharply. "He was in a rush -"

"I can read it," Silco snarls. He whirls around and plunges further into the bowels of the warehouse.

The children follow, blindly. Because they were told to. They follow the devil into his den because Vander told them to.

Why Silco let them, he'll never be able to explain. Never. Why he didn't finish was Vander started: destroy all remnants of their old life, including those damned children - he'll never say.

He can't. Because Vander sent him his children and a note. It changes nothing.

Except it changes everything.

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

college be like “here’s a little poem about a snake teehee! what did you think about it? :3” and then five hours later im balls deep in jstor tabs trying to decide whether waiting your turn in line at the water fountain is more of a catholic guilt thing or a class struggle thing

[luckyagain]

you're telling me some curly haired fucker tied him down at 18 and I JUST HAVE TO MAKE PEACE WITH THAT?!??!?!?

[elifield69]

[arsonincident]

Oh he's amazing and I love him (He'd turn me into girl fillet)

[psychicdisaster]

Why is TDLOSK so... sad? I am taking physical damage from the last few arcs.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Screen Time is Bad for Your Brain

VOX x READER(PLATONIC) Summary: Vox is desperate for information about Alastor and is running out of options. So he turns to the only person in Hell who might know and that comes with...costs Warnings: NONE For the lovely @gerascophobicmuch (sorry if the username is wrong) REQUESTS OPEN!

In the depths of the underworld, where chaos reigns and power is both coveted and fleeting, there existed a peculiar alliance - or perhaps more aptly, a rivalry - between two formidable figures: Vox, the technological tyrant of the Hellish airwaves, and Y/N, the enigmatic overseer of a secrets nestled in the murky heart of a bog-like district.

Vox, with his penchant for the latest in infernal technology, ruled over his domain with a metallic fist. His domain buzzed with neon lights and the constant hum of screens displaying his broadcasts to the denizens of Hell. He craved information, but not just any information - he craved the instantaneous, the digital, the easily manipulable. It best served his purposes after all.

On the other hand, Y/N was a creature of subtlety and cunning. Their library, hidden within the shadows of the swamp, was a sanctuary of ancient tomes and whispered secrets. Y/N was the keeper of these mysteries, a being who danced on the fine line between chaos and neutrality. They dealt in information, but unlike Vox, their methods were more traditional - ink on parchment, whispered rumors, and clandestine meetings. It had been their trade since before their death.

Their paths collided not out of coincidence, but out of the inherent nature of their roles as overlords of their respective domains. Vox, always hungry for fresh knowledge to manipulate, sought to tap into the vast reserves of secrets hidden within Y/N's library. Meanwhile, Y/N, ever the collector of stories and knowledge, found Vox's reliance on technology distasteful and saw him as a threat to the delicate balance they maintained.

Their relationship was defined by a delicate dance of banter and manipulation. Vox would send his lackeys to negotiate access to Y/N's collection, offering promises of power and influence. Yet Y/N was not easily swayed. They would meet Vox's advances with a sharp wit and a cunning smile, always keeping their true intentions veiled behind a facade of somewhat passive aggressive friendliness. Distasting Y/N’s adept parries to his lackeys, Vox decided to take matters into his own metal hands. He always did a better job anyway. The neon-lit confines of Vox's domain buzzed with a frenetic energy as he paced back and forth, his metallic shoes tapping impatiently against the polished floor. He needed information - crucial, damning information that could shift the balance of power in Hell between himself and Alastor. But try as he might, his usual sources had come up empty-handed, leaving him with only one option: Y/N and their infernal library of stolen secrets.

With a begrudging sigh, Vox clenched his fists, steeling himself for what he knew would be a less-than-pleasant encounter. He despised the idea of relying on Y/N, of stooping to such lows to get what he wanted. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and Vox had never been one to shy away from doing what was necessary to achieve his goals.

Summoning all of his resolve, Vox made his way through the winding corridors of Hell, his mind racing with thoughts of the bargain he would have to strike with Y/N. He hated the idea of relinquishing one of his precious secrets, of allowing someone else to hold power over him. But he knew that in the cutthroat world of Hell, sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

Vox's form flickered into existence within the dimly lit confines of Y/N's library, the faint glow of his neon visage casting eerie shadows on the ancient tomes that lined the shelves. Vox sauntered into the swamp surrounded library, the glow of his blue neon accents casting an otherworldly sheen. The library was a broken down building, made of marble and accentuated with embellish statues and markers long dirtied by th terrain.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Vox purred, his mechanical voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "The elusive Y/N, surrounded by dusty old books. Don't you ever get tired of living in the past?"

Y/N glanced up from their desk, the candlelight barely illuminating their haunting figure. Dressed in a 1940s beige dress, they looked right out of the Shining in the boggy domain. A sly smile playing across their lips. "Ah, Vox. Tell me, do your screens ever whisper secrets to you like these pages do to me?"

Vox chuckled, the sound reverberating through the library like distant thunder. "Oh, they do more than whisper, my dear Y/N. They shout, they scream, they broadcast the truth to all who would listen."

"But do they tell the whole truth, or just the truth you want them to tell?" Y/N retorted, arching an eyebrow.

Vox's grin widened, the flicker of his holographic eyes betraying a hint of mischief. "Why settle for the whole truth when you can have the version that suits your narrative best?"

Y/N chuckled, shaking their head. "Ah, Vox, always the pragmatist. But remember, there's more to power than what can be displayed on a screen."

"Indeed," Vox replied, his tone tinged with mock sincerity. "There's also the power of a well-placed secret, wouldn't you agree?"

Y/N's mouth twitched in amusement. He was sucking up…he wanted something. "Ah, but secrets have a funny way of finding their way into the light, don't they? And when they do, it's always fascinating to see who's left standing in the aftermath."

Vox chuckled, the sound reverberating through the chamber. "Oh, I appreciate secrets, my dear Y/N, just in a more... efficient manner. Why waste time leafing through dusty old books when I can access the information I seek with a simple click of a button?"

"Efficiency is overrated," Y/N retorted, waving their hand dismissively. "There's something to be said for the thrill of the chase, don't you think? Besides, not everything worth knowing can be found in your precious digital archives."

Vox raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Oh? And what, pray tell, do you have that I couldn't possibly find in my vast network of data?"

Y/N's smirk widened into a knowing grin. "Ah, but that's the beauty of it, isn't it? Some secrets are meant to be kept hidden, known only to those who are clever enough to uncover them. And trust me, Vox, you'll never find them in your cold, sterile world of technology."

Vox chuckled, the sound echoing through the chamber like the distant hum of machinery. "You may have a point, Y/N. But mark my words, one day I'll crack open those dusty tomes of yours and uncover every last secret hidden within."

Y/N's laughter mingled with Vox's, the sound echoing through the library like the ringing of bells in the night but then they turned a sort of deathly calm. "Oh, Vox, you can certainly try. But remember, not all secrets are meant to be revealed. Some are best left buried in the shadows, where they belong."

Vox gritted his teeth, forcing himself to maintain a semblance of composure in the face of Y/N's taunts. "Cut the pleasantries, Y/N," he growled, his voice tinged with impatience. "I need information, and I know that you're the only one who can help me."

Y/N's smile widened into a smirk as they leaned back in their chair, steepling their fingers beneath their chin. "Oh, I'm well aware of my... unique position in the grand scheme of things," they replied, their tone dripping with amusement. "But what makes you think I'd be willing to help you, Vox? After all, we're not exactly the best of friends."

Vox clenched his fists, his frustration mounting with each passing moment. He knew that Y/N was toying with him, reveling in the opportunity to hold power over him. He had tried to play it cool, starting out with some banter as a power play; that failed. But he had no other choice - he needed the information, and he needed it now.

"Fine," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "What do you want in exchange for your precious information, Y/N? Name your price, and I'll pay it."

Y/N glow eerily in the candlelight and glow of the talking screen, a small smirk widening into a malicious grin as they leaned forward. "Oh, Vox, you're so predictable," they chuckled. "But I'm afraid that this time, the price is quite steep. I want one of your secrets - something juicy, something scandalous. And trust me, Vox, I won't settle for anything less."

Vox's heart sank as he realized the gravity of Y/N's demand. He hated the idea of relinquishing one of his secrets, of allowing someone else to hold power over him. But he knew that he had no other choice - if he wanted the information, he would have to pay the price. Y/N extended her hand with a sheet of paper, eyes glowing a deep dusty gold as Vox signed his name on the contract in front of him. The ink melted into a black puddle on the page, sealing his promise to her.

With a heavy sigh, Vox nodded his head, his resolve hardening with each passing moment. "Fine," he growled, his voice tinged with resignation. "You'll get your secret, Y/N. But mark my words - one day, I'll come for what's mine, and when I do, you'll regret ever crossing me."

And with that, Vox turned on his heel and stalked out of the library, leaving Y/N alone with their thoughts and the tantalizing promise of the secrets yet to be revealed. But deep down, he knew that his bargain with Y/N had only sealed his fate, setting into motion a chain of events that would reshape the very fabric of Hell itself.

[were-wolverine]

fucking goddamnit. every time i get back into the x-mcu the cherik brainrot starts eating away at me again. i can’t escape them. gahhhhh

genuinely how am i supposed to be normal about them. every fucking scene they are in together looks like they are holding back from declaring their undying love for each other. what the fuck

[jubjubmaz]

Hihihi the brain rot continues hehehehe

Also CW: NSFW and Nudity!

I feel risky posting this... I've never posted nudity on Tumblr before T^T

Anyways hehe I really like the idea of them being physically comfortable with the other despite yk... their habit of killing each other. I wanna draw them being domestic

[the-bar-sinister]

captivated by his complete break with reality, and his growing list of crimes.

[90363462]

Love this!!!! And yes, the mainstream media, minus

@Lawrence

, brings the darkness!

FQ The media except Lawrence

[jerrythebug]

I got Guy fever yesterday, I think I died.

[ratatatastic]

"have you thought about how it would be like to play against some of your panthers teammates throughout tournament?" "yeah we've already been joking around a little bit" alternatively we have to get all our sexual tension out now before 4 nations rolls around and we actually have to focus, in other news the sky is blue

florida panthers @ philadelphia flyers pregame interview | 12.5.24 (x)