#i use to have people i could go to when things got hard

[madamechrissy]

Daddy Likes Crazy Girls

Pairings - Dilf Toji Fushiguro x fem reader

Summary -You're Megumi's best friend, and spend more time at the Fushiguro home than at your dorm room, and since you were a kid you've had it bad for Megumi's dad. He was always cool and fun until you got older, then he started being gruff and rude. Well, that just won't do, because you know you need his attention, and you decide to make his life a living hell, but Toji decides to give that hell right back on you. Who will finally give in!?

CW - age gap- Toji is 39, reader is 20, lowkey hint of somnophilia, rough blow jobs, dirty talk, Toji AND reader ain't shit, using others to make e/o jealous, fingering, cunnilingus, rough sex, dirty talk, highkey daddy kink, spitting, choking, reader and Toji freaks. Megumi and Yuuji are reader's age no NSFW w/them (reader uses Yuuji to piss Toji off but it's SFW) Basically it's nasty, filthy DILF Toji smuttt - WC- 7.5k

Based on Your Best Friend's Dad Toji - The pic on the left is from here (tears on a withered flower) I could not find a source for the Toji image! Reblogs/comments so appreciated if you enjoy!

Toji stiffens… in multiple ways as you saunter out that morning, as he’s throwing back two ibuprofen and sipping on bitter coffee, black, just out he likes it. You’re rubbing your eyes just a bit and yawning, stretching up your arms, tiny crop top stretched tight on your breasts, which bounce as your arms rest, and his goddamn cock twitches. He literally turns away, facing the counter then.

“Morning, Mr. Fushiguro.” You say brightly, sleep still in your voice, and he grumbles a hello, tensing when you walk towards him. “Oh, coffee, can I have some? I’m so beat and I have that test later.”

“Yeah, yeah… go ahead kid.” You glare at his strong back, shirtless and muscled, calling you kid when you were damn near old enough to drink, when you drove and worked and went to college.

You’re no kid.

You gently touch his shoulder, trying to get through to the coffee maker in the little kitchen, feeling him tense, as he narrows his eyes, looking over at you, lips pressing together, that scar just stretched a bit over his lip. You lean forward, breasts in his full view, as you start brewing your own cup, and he damn near rubs his hard cock at the sight of your nipples poking out.

God you annoy him, always over here, sure when you were younger it didn’t bother him, you were Megumi’s friend, a good one at that, and a good kid. And as a teen even, you had your shit together, living without your own parents, you had spent a ton of time here. But when you hit about eighteen or nineteen, and you just… started looking at him like you are now!?

Dilated eyes, lowered lashes, licking your goddamn lip?

When you started wearing less and less, and frequently crashed right on his couch, in various states of undress? When your tits jiggled just so, or you bent over in front of him, shorts riding up a bouncy ass? When you giggled and brushed your fingers against his arm?

You drive Toji fucking insane.

He’s tired of jerking it to his son’s best friend, he’s tired of picturing your thighs spread as he fucks women, you’re… infuriating him, actually. Batting your lashes and shooting little smiles, constantly trying to ruin him. Sure, people thought Toji was a creep, a pervert, a fucking whore, and to some extent, he was those things, but with women his age.

Being almost forty and having a very annoying, sexy and tempting twenty year old was not fucking okay. Sure, it’s one thing to jerk it to you, how could he not, but it’s harder and harder with every passing day not to give in, to play with that pussy he’s seen hints of, to suck on those pretty nipples that seem to always be poking out of something you wear.

Toji can’t stand you.

“Have a rough night, Mr. Fushiguro?” You ask then, and he turns his forest green eyes looking down at you, while you pour a little sugar in the cup, taking one of the spoons from his wooden drawers and then stirring it.

“Huh, no rough night. Slept fine.” Jerked it to the thought of you at midnight, and dammit he enjoys his sleep.

“Got it, you seem a little grumpy though.” You tease, nudging him with your shoulder playfully, just that alone makes him wanna spread you wide on this goddamn counter, picturing how your pretty pussy would be in his face.

“Grumpy, doll?” He asks, you giggle a little, looking up at him, the man you’ve had it bad for since you can remember.

As much as you love Megumi, a huge part of you coming here was for him, Toji, Megumi’s far too sexy father. Sure, Megumi was your age, but you two were just too close, but also, Toji. Rippling abbed, strong muscled, thick fucking Toji. The man whose muscles have muscles, and those lazy green eyes, that straight nose with plump ass lips?

The man who you know takes care of business, shit you’ve seen him on nights kissing down girl’s necks, shooting you a quick look before he’d grab their hair, their waist, like you could vividly picture it being you? The man who you could constantly see his thick, girthy outline in these slutty grey sweats he wears?

You want him.

You always have, but at first it was perhaps admiration, or a childhood crush, but now that you’re almost twenty one, and you’ve had sex, you’ve had experience, you can’t stop thinking that Toji knew what to do. Can’t stop thinking how badly you’d love to see that cock just begging for attention, have it down your throat, have him bend you over this kitchen table.

Your mind gets so sidetracked you forget he’s said anything you you, clearing your throat and shrugging. “A little grumpy to me in general lately.”

Toji scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Excuse me for not bein’ Mr. Fuckin Sunshine all the time, doll.”

Doll.

Imagine him saying ‘doll’ as he pounds your little pussy.

Fuck.

You shift just a bit, his gaze catches it. “Hmm, you’ve just been a little mean to me. I used to come… to you all the time, you know.” You smile just a bit, his lips are parted, then you sigh. “Have a good day, Mr. Fushiguro.”

“Damn brat.” He mutters, running his hand through inky locks.

Since you hate your dorm mate, you always come over there, and Megumi never minds, he just gives you a lazy little smile, sometimes you crash in his room, he’ll even take the floor, or separate you all with a body pillow. He listens to your bullshit, with a little sigh and bored face, but he listens. Megumi has been your good friend, even through breakups and makeups with his best friend, Yuuji.

You’d been on and off with Yuuji for years, as the two of you are probably better off friends, but Yuuji is so damn sweet, and so down bad, you end up back with him again, much to the disdain of Toji. When you’re sitting on Yuuji’s lap, hand running through pastel hair, while Megumi and him game, you feel it, Toji Fushiguro’s glare right at you.

Something excites you so much from it, you get overheated, you get wet from your thoughts, and Yuuji would nervously notice, blushing.

You’re kind of shit for that, for being with Yuuji when the man you want is right there, but he never seems to understand that you’re a woman. No skimpy outfit or flirty looks do a damn thing, to the point you think… it’s all in your head, it has to be, some childish fantasy that you have to let go.

Little do you know, as you’re kissing Yuuji, and that boy’s hand is on your waist, Toji has to go to the damn bathroom, and start stroking his cock. He tries to muffle his moans, while he curses you internally, for making him act like some dumb teen. And your smiles are as if you know.

One night Toji comes home and sees you on the couch, with one of your fucking pretty, perfect titties out, shoved out from your twisted little crop top, just begging him to touch it. He goes over, cock leaking precum, to cover you up, but he bends on a knee instead, brushing your hair back, watching your lips part, tempting him to no goddamn end.

Imagine how they’d feel on his -

He clears his mind, or tries to, deciding to fix your tank top, but his thumb brushes your nipple on accident, eliciting a soft whine from your perfect lips, your areola tightening just from his touch. He pauses, hating himself then, but he has to just bend down, pressing a kiss on that peak, and then your hand instinctively grips his hair, making him freeze, wondering what the fuck he’s doing.

“Toji…” You whisper, his eyes shoot up, but you’re fast asleep, shit you’re dreaming of him, like he’s worth a gorgeous girl like you dreaming of his old ass, but he laps at your nipple, before he can stop himself, hot wet tongue tasting your sweet skin. “Mnh!”

Shit.

He pulls back, but sucks your pretty nipple in his mouth for just a moment, greedily, hand brushing over your body and the thin fleece that’s slung over your hips, feeling your heat even through it 

Fuck, shit, fuck.

He pulls back, exhaling and swiping up the slick from your nipple with his rough thumb, picturing how pretty your tits would look covered in his ropes of cum, before he stops himself, covering you up quickly and rushing to his room. He can’t do shit like that…

Why are you dreaming of him though?

It’s still not okay… right?

Nor is it okay he wanted to touch that heat, lap up your juices, watch your sleepy face construe in pleasure. He can’t, can’t, can’t. So instead he’s stroking his aching cock, which slaps his belly button as it’s released, stroking it with his hand in little twists, imagining it now, the taste of your nipple in his mouth, until he’s spurting cum all from that reddened tip.

He can’t.

*****

Toji becomes meaner, gruffer, ignoring you, trying to fall into every woman he can, all while you come over less and less, thank god. But you can’t stop thinking of him, he’s a constant thought as you play with yourself, having dreams of him that feel too real and you come over one more time, already lit as you call Megumi, and he yawns, letting you in.

“You’re so needy, tch.” He grumbles, you giggle then, kissing his cheek, earning his eye roll.

“You’re the best friend ever.” You kiss his cheek again and he grimaces, taking in your attire.

“You went all slutty looking to that party, hmm? Mad at Yuuji?”

“Gumi!”

“Hot, just slutty. Go put on my clothes or something.” He says, with another yawn, ruffling your hair then.

“All right, I will in a bit, but… one more drink?” He chuckles, gesturing to the fridge.

“There’s beer in there, but I suggest water after.”

“Sure, dad.”

Megumi basically was Toji’s dad, way too mature always. He rolls his green eyes, just a little darker than his father’s, yawning again. “You know where everything is, crazy ass. I’m off to bed.”

“Night, Gumi, thank you!”

“Yeah yeah.” He shuts his door, as you’re just a little tipsy, curious where Toji was… some date, you’re sure. He’s sort of notorious for the women he has, though you’ve never seen the man have an actual serious girl.

You crack open a beer, sighing now, still clad in your- as Megumi dubbed it- slutty black dress, sitting in the kitchen chair as you sip the beer, right when the door opens and shuts. Toji walks in, actually wearing some dress shirt and slacks, different from the thin work out tees and sweats you normally see, and pauses when he sees you in the chair, his lips clamping shut.

“Have fun, Mr. Fushiguro?” You ask now, crossing your legs, allowing him to see your pretty, perfect pussy as he realizes you aren’t wearing shit under that dress. He gulps, mouth opening, before he eyes your peer in your pretty little hand, the kitchen suddenly far too small.

“What?” He manages, and you uncross your legs again, standing and walking closer to him, looking so sexy and pretty he wants to yank you by your goddamn hair, show you just how to get fucked.

He doubts you get fucked good, you’re too bitchy and needy, he can just tell, you need someone to split you in two. You lean against the counter, tilting your head, looking so slutty in this dress, tits out, thighs showing, hugging every curve and line of that banging body.

You’re sent to fuck him up, he’s sure of it, whatever his shitty past was, you’re the punishment.

“Have fun?” You practically purr the words.

“You old enough to drink, brat?” He demands, and you giggle again, touching his chest just a bit, but that alone is setting him the fuck off, as his hands clench and unclench at his sides.

“Old enough for lots of things.” You look right up at him, tummy clenching with how tall he is, how big he is, mind running fucking insane.

“Still a fucking kiddo.” He grumbles, opening the fridge now, taking a beer out of it and gulping it down, struggling not to let in.

Annoying brat that you are.

“So, did you have a date?’

“Yep.”

“Did you get off?”

“The fuck!?” He demands, sputtering as you giggle, buzzed and finally bold enough to spit it out, as you see him scowl, leaning down. “You said what?”

“Did you get off, Mr. Fushiguro?” You repeat again, batting those long lashes, some fake ones you wear that shouldn’t be as hot as they are on you.

“The fuck, brat?” He grabs you by the hair on the back of your neck with one big hand, the pull of it making you soaking wet, dripping down your thighs.

“I could help you, you always gave me such good advice as a kid you know, as a teenager. Even though you’re so mean now to me.” You lean even closer, pouting, he tastes the sweetness mixing with the liquor in your system, shaking his head, teeth clenched together.

“Don’t know what you’re fucking saying, doll. Should shut your brat mouth up.” His words go straight to your pussy, when his finger finds you between your thighs, and he curses, you’re slick and so hot. “Slutty ass didn’t even wear panties with this little outfit huh? Want all those college boys to see?”

“I’m sure they did. But that wasn’t the- question- ngh!” When he swipes a rough finger against your clit, your moan does him in.

“This soaked just talking to me?” He whispers, you barely are able to form a coherent thought or answer.

You trail your fingers down to his cock, gripping it and raising a brow. “Want me to help you Mr. Fushiguro? That girlfriend suck you good enough?”

“Keep fucking talking shit, brat, you’ll regret it.” He whispers hoarsely, only for you to smile up at him.

“Oh, gonna teach me a lesson - daddy?”

“Fucking brat I swear to…” He shoves you down on your bare knees then, right on Toji’s tile floor, and you gasp when you watch him free his cock, gulping as you see just how huge it is, thick and veiny, and you look up at him then. Tall, intimidating, cock right next to your lips, while he grabs your hair. “Got one chance to come to your senses, doll- ah, fuck!”

You lap at him, and soon you find yourself sucking every bit of your best friend’s dad’s cock all the way in your throat, burning as it stretches to try to accommodate him, and he’s so thick and long it’s damn near impossible to take him all. Your nails are pressing against his slacks as you move your head, sucking him so sloppy, drooling all over him.

Toji can’t take how good your mouth feels, how pretty your eyes are as they fill with tears for him, gripping your hair with his fingers and now fucking your face. “Shut you up huh, brat?”

You just whimper, as he puts a leg between your thighs, and you’re rolling your hips against his foot, his shoe pressing on your clit. You’re whining and grinding as he fucks your mouth harder, grunting, precum salty and sweet coating your tongue. You’re soaking his pant leg, clit throbbing in need, while his cock slides so deep you’re choking on him.

“So desperate, huh, gonna grind on my leg like that? Slutty lil’ cunt soaking me? This what you do to me, fuck…” He’s muttering to himself more than anything, as you suck harder, the degrading words only making you wetter. You’re trembling and shaking when he pauses, throbbing. “Shit… you suck that good, got me fuckin mad ya ever sucked anyone.”

He yanks you back just a bit, looking at your reddened lips, plump and coated in your spit, your mouth is parted, gasping for a breath then, he’s pulling you back up now, pressing you against the counter, thigh between yours, you’re rolling your hips and whimpering as he shuts your mouth with his hand. He feels it, you soaking him, dying to taste you now.

“Keep it quiet, shit-”

Suddenly the door opens, and you two immediately part, Toji adjusting his cock and turning back to the fridge, trying to act busy as you cough just a bit, throwing back the beer when Megumi walks out. He yawns now, blinking bleary eyed at the two of you, as Toji tries to stop his precum from leaking out of his tip.

“Can you two keep it down, shit. Hey…” He turns to you now, as you put the beer in the trash. “Come get some pajamas on, you can sleep in my bed if you want.”

“Thank you, Gumi, good idea.” You snatch up pajamas that Megumi brings, a big shirt and a pair of his boxers, heading to the bathroom and resting your head on the door, shaking like crazy as you peel off your dress. Your thighs are a sticky mess, your damn throat hurts from his cock.

Your pussy is aching with need, you splash some cool water on your face, struggling to take several breaths as you eye yourself in the mirror. You lips are swollen from sucking him, eyes dilated and pupils blown the fuck out, your cheeks have taken on this color from how overheated they are. You struggle to compose yourself, wiping up the endless slick from your pussy.

What just happened?

You walk back out, seeing Megumi with a water bottle, smiling lazily at you, and you sigh, taking it and smiling, feeling so guilty. You just sucked his damn father, now you’re gonna act normal somehow? Toji is nowhere to be seen, so you try to just to push it out of your brain, even as you’re gulping down icy water and laying in Megumi’s bed.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor, Gumi.” You say, he sighs now, climbing up and laying on the other side.

“Don’t take advantage of me, hmm? Look like you got dick on the brain.”

“Excuse me!?” You both burst into laughter, you shove him nearly off the bed as he’s chuckling.

“You and Yuuji need to stop the back and forth, you know he’s like a sad puppy when you all break up.”

“Ugh, I know.” You sigh, covering your face now, wishing you could get this annoying old man out of your head. “Dick on my brain, whatever.”

“Mmhmm. Night night.”

“G’night.” You turn on your side, thinking just what Toji is feeling, was it nothing but some girl with some crush to him?

You all literally say nothing to each other the next morning, and Mr. Fushiguro has went from somewhat quiet to completely shutting you out. His replies are grunts and grumbles, and he doesn’t say a damn word to you. For weeks, you haven’t even caught a glance, to the point you wonder if it was all some drunk ass dream.

Unable to handle it, you quit coming over, for weeks, in a way Toji is thankful he doesn’t have to constantly have a hard cock, constantly masturbate to you- well he does anyway, but- the memory of your throat is something he can’t stop. The memory of you so desperate you were grinding on him like that, how he almost had you right in the kitchen.

He fights all of it, glad you’re not there, trying to go back out, to forget you even exist, feeling so damn awkward as he talks to his kid about you, asking ever so casually where you are. Apparently you have some new boyfriend, and Toji doesn’t like the irrational feelings that brings him, so he’s even more thankful you’re not around.

Thinking of some college loser not even getting your pretty pussy off makes him furious, no one even deserves to touch you really, even him.

As Toji’s on a date, and they’re being seated, a rooftop restaurant this woman wants to go to, he spots you then. You’re giggling, hand over your mouth, as you show some boy something on your phone, and he’s laughing too. A boy your age, that’s how it should be, anyway.

Right?

You notice him then, how can someone not notice Toji, his gaze across your body, lingering against your breasts, pressed up and on display in the little dress you’re wearing. You see his hand go to his date’s thigh, so you lean closer to your date, whispering little nothings in his ear. His cheeks heat up as his own hand touches your thigh.

Like some sick game, you both trade looks, touches with your dates, all while the intensity builds, and surely your date must think he’s got the easiest girl around, he’s doing really nothing and can feel your heat as he touches your thigh. And surely Toji’s date is enjoying every touch and caress, as you watch his fingers trail down her shoulders, picturing them.

It’s suddenly all too much, you murmur a quick apology. “I have to go to the ladies room real quick.”

“No worries love.” He says with a smile, and you quickly go to the bathroom, splashing cool water on your face, on the back of your neck, exhaling and trying to compose yourself.

“Shit…” You grumble, then gasp as the door slams open, his tall imposing figure right in the bathroom, broad shoulders so big he barely fits the damn doorway. “It’s a ladies room, Mr. Fushiguro.”

“Stop looking at me like that.” He whispers, gripping your face tightly, you take a shaky breath, legs trembling as he’s too close, and your eyes flicker to his lips, glossy and full, making you ache to kiss him.

“Look at you like what?” You look at him under lashes, as he remember’s your damn demon mouth on him, and he turns you then, towering over you in the reflection of the mirror, tilting your chin to face it.

“Like that, see yourself? Fucked out face, begging to be filled.” You gasp when one hand is wrapping your throat, the other slipping up your dress, groaning in your ear as he hovers over you, finding your panties soaked.

“Mr. Fushiguro…”

“That lil boy toy gets you off, doll?” He asks softly, rolling his fingers under the waistband of your panties, as his other fingers squeeze your throat with the lightest pressure. Your eyes roll back, and he slips two fingers inside to the knuckle, stretching you so good you’re damn near sobbing. “Asked ya a question?”

“Does y-your girl… get you off? Suck dick like I do?” You ask in response, smiling at his scowl, as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, you hear the squelching wetness echoing in the bathroom, crying out and bucking your hips.

“Tired of that mouth, tired of you fucking with my head. Little demon brat.” He huffs, cock hard and thick against your back, dying to be inside you, feeling your sticky little walls gripping him, you’re damn near sobbing it feels so good, his huge hard body taking you over. “Look at yourself, huh? Pretty lil face, annoying the shit outta me.”

“Y-you annoy m-me.” He chuckles, as he guides your chin back.

“Open those eyes.” You do as he says, whimpering softly, while your cunt is drooling down to his rolled up dress sleeves, you feel every fucking ridge and callous against your walls, making you even wetter, your cheeks so flushed, your eyes so bright as he watches you. “You drive me nuts on purpose, don’t you brat?”

“Y-you don’t even w-want-” He yanks out his fingers, just as you’re about to cum, leaving you weak, as he literally lets you go, and you glare up at him, as he sucks you off his fingers, making your mouth drop open at how sensual it is.

“Goddamn, gotta taste that good!?” You can’t speak, not when he’s tilting your chin up again, leaning close. “Stop fucking with me, got it?”

“You’re such a dick.” He glares, and you glare right back, as he just walks the fuck out. “Ugh!”

Your jaw sets, stomping out a few moments after, seeing Toji acting so casual, hands gripping a stem of a glass of wine, still glistening from you, smirking at you, and you decide it then.

Two can play at his little game.

*****

You are bouncing around in your little damn cheerleading outfit, as you’re on the field, shaking your hips with your stupid fucking pom poms, all while Toji finally decides to come to Megumi’s football games. Megumi himself is curious why he keeps showing up, it’s not that Toji never came to them, it’s just he didn’t… very often. Usually working or something.

Well Toji takes heavy interest, as he’s got a new girl with him every game, you can practically feel his stupid smirk from across the field as he watches you, an arm wrapped around a pretty lady’s shoulders. So you decide, the best course of action is to slap a big good luck kiss right on Yuuji’s lips before the game, to the awws and oohs of the crowd.

It takes everything inside Toji not to grab you by your pig tails, drag you over and beat your bouncy ass. It takes everything not to smack that ass so hard you can’t walk anymore, especially as you turn away from a blushing Yuuji to smile meanly right back at Toji, seeing his glare.

You may or may not also bend over right in front of him, giving him a full view of thin lacy black panties when you should be wearing spandex shorts, making Toji so hard he physically hurts. It’s not your fault you dropped something, though! You smile innocently when you turn around, feigning surprise.

“Mr. Fushiguro, it’s so good to see you here.” You say brightly, smiling to the lady next to him then. “He’s such a good dad.”

Toji just glares as you wave, running back to the field to finish your routine, little do you know Toji has to leave in the middle of the game, so torn the fuck up from seeing you he can’t stand it. He’s again stroking his cock to his son’s bratty little fucking friend, cursing you the entire time, thinking he could make you stop if you saw him with other women.

But you are driving him more insane.

Megumi is out early for practice when you waltz right in later, wearing your pretty little maroon cheer outfit, the irony is it’s a letter fucking T on your pretty tits, as you peek around, noticing him. You both pause, it’s been damn near a month since you sucked him, and weeks since he fingered you, you’ve both kept your distance just enough.

“Shit, Megumi already left? My phone’s dead.” You frown at it now, sighing as Toji slowly walks up to you, shutting the door behind you and locking it with a click. You pause, breaths coming faster and faster as he looms over you, so big and intimidating and fucking sexy. You let out a whimper before you bite your trembling lip, and he cups your face with one hand.

“You’re playing with fire, y’know that brat? Fucking have no clue what you’re in for if you keep it up.” He juts your chin up roughly then, making your head fall back, you tremble then, biting at your lip harder. “Think I’m playing?”

“Think I’m scared of you? Think I’m some innocent kid? I’m not.” He chuckles gruffly, licking that scar, making it glisten as he tilts his head to the side, strong muscles flexing as he presses you further against the door.

“You ain’t done shit like I’d do to you, none of those lil’ boys could make you cum like me, split you in fucking two, fuck you stupid.” You gasp, his words going straight to your pussy, but you struggle to hide it.

“All talk, is what I think, maybe you’re too old to keep up with me.” You raise a brow with a little smile, when Toji grabs you by your throat, it turns into a full fucking grin.

“You psycho little brat, need a whole fuckin’ lesson, don’t ya?” He slams his lips on yours, and once he does, it’s over for both of you.

His tongue his sliding into your mouth, not teasing, no he’s fucking owning it, devouring it, as your hands slip up his chest, gripping his thin white shirt and his free hand slips down, yanking your cheer top down, one of your breasts spilling out. He moans as he pulls back, squeezing your throat harder, pulling you to him.

“Think I haven’t already sucked on these perky lil’ fuckin nipples?” You gasp then, earning his chuckle. “Sleeping in slutty ass tops, tits out.”

“D-did you… do more?” You whisper, hoarse as he’s choking you harder, and he smirks at you.

“No, freaky ass brat, what did you want me to touch you in your sleep?” You nod weakly, as he squeezes your windpipe even harder, until you’re a soaking wet fucking mess. “What’d ya want me to do?”

“Eat me out.” Your whisper ends him, he’s on his knees then, Toji Fushiguro, on his knees, as your heart hammers in your chest, and he shoves up that cheer skirt, licking you over your lacy panties, groaning as your slick hits his mouth, his tongue lapping the soppy mess out. “Ah!”

Your hands grip his inky hair, hiccuping and crying as he continues to lap at you with his hungry tongue, groaning against you, reducing your panties to nothing. “You’re such a little slut, wearing this? Want everyone to see this fucking pussy?”

“W-wanted y-you to…”

“Shit…” Toji takes your hands, putting them on your skirt then. “Hold this the fuck up, now.”

“Yes…”

“Yes what.”

“Yes… daddy- ah!” Toji groans, knowing he’s just a sick fuck for eating through your panties under your goddamn cheer skirt, knowing he’s old enough to be your damn dad almost, but he can’t stop himself now. Once he tastes you it’s fucking done for him, as you hold your skirt up, hooking a thigh over his shoulder and screaming out.

“Good fucking girl. Finally, listening huh?” You can’t function, dying for the barrier of your panties to leave, wriggling as he teases you relentlessly.

“Please!”

“Please what, doll?”

“Take em off, please… fucking please.”

“Hah…” He’s laughing, biting you over your panties, grinning up at the mess you already are. “Ya gonna cum from this? These boys so pathetic?”

“Mnh…” Is all you manage, and he moans, rubbing your damp and sticky fabric, finally peeling it off you, easing your thigh off him and pressing bites down it as he does.

“All sweet now, huh? Not being a slutty fuckin’ brat?”

“I need… need you… T-Toji…” He moans at how sweet you are when he laps you up between your puffy lips, groaning as you soak his mouth, your hands back to those thin inky locks, pulling as he swipes the flat of his tongue up your slit. “Ah! F-fuck!”

“Bad lil mouth, huh?” He smacks your pussy now, making it sting and throb, but you’re only more fucking wet, as he slaps it again, shoving two fingers up your hole and looking at you under sooty lashes, as his cock throbs in his sweats, precum making him sticky as you fall apart over him. “Nothin’ to say?”

“Fuck you… ah!” He smacks your pussy again, harder, wet slap echoing in the house as he stands now, picking you up like you’re nothing, throwing you over his shoulder as you squeak. “Let me down, f-fuck!”

Toji laughs, smacking your bare ass and making you squeak, before tossing you right on his bed, spreading your thighs and nudging right between them, spitting right on your pussy and grinning with white teeth glinting, slipping his two thick fingers through it. “Fuck, look at her, so soaked and I just am getting started.”

You blink in confusion, sure you’ve got experience, but just a few licks was better than anything you’ve felt. “I’m r-ready, though- mnh!”

“I ain’t even close to done with eating this pussy. Tastes so fucking yummy, demon pussy, demon mouth.” You’d laugh if he wasn’t slobbering all over your cunt again, making you quiver and moan, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his messy sheets, your toes curling, still in your fucking cheer sneakers.

“T-Toji, please-”

“You’re gonna get it, brat, until you’re beggin’ me to stop, until you can’t even move, can’t think. That what you've been wanting all this time, huh?” He asks, eyes alight with something dark and carnivorous.

“Y-yes, yes, I want it, I need it, I-ahh!”

You don’t have to ask again, because he’s already descending, stupidly tongue licking and fucking in and out of your soppy little hole, as you scream out at it, so close to cumming you can feel the pressure in your tummy. He can feel it, as he grips your hips, shoving that little pleated skirt up and drinking you, drowning in you, your body just twitching under his hold.

“That’s it, there you go, doll. Cum all over m’fuckin face.” He urges, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, so goddamn intense as he devours your pussy, your  eyes roll into the back of your head as he latches onto your little twitching clit, sucking hard, and your body arches up, your back bowing off the bed, as you shatter.

“Oh fuck, T-Toji m’gonna cum I - ah!” You’re sobbing out the jumble of words, your voice hoarse, your body shaking as he feasts on you, his stubble scraping your sensitive skin. He’s fucking humming on your clit, and you feel the orgasm wrecking you as your hips buck up to his face.

He’s moaning as you orgasm all over his face, juices fucking pouring, the sounds of him slurping them up are goddamn obscene, he’s drunk off you as he sips up every bit he can. His breaths are hot and heavy, and your thighs are clamping down around his head, already overstimulated and whining pathetically, but he’s just too fucking strong, and he’s not stopping.

“Again, doll, can your lil slutty pussy cum again f’me?” You weakly shake your head, and he chuckles up at you. “So cute, and we’re just getting started, don’t tap out now… where’s your school spirit?”

“Oh my god…” You wanna cuss him out, but you’re about to cum again as he shoves two thick fingers in, curling them and pressing that spongy spot in your messy, not sloppy fucking walls. “Too much!” You whine, his chuckle tickling your clit as he spreads your lips, watching it twitch.

“Talked all that shit, then can’t take a lil foreplay?” You’re sweating already, about to cum again, the tension in your body coils tighter and tighter until it snaps, and you’re screaming out his name, Toji. Your hips bucking against his face, your juices squirting out all over his mouth and chin, soaking the bed beneath you, and he’s just swallowing it all down, groaning with every drop.

You collapse back, breathless, sweat slicked, and your heart racing so fast you can feel it in your throat, and Toji sits back a bit,, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at you with a smug grin, your pussy still quivering and pulsing around his thick digits as he is relentless in his fingering.

“Weak and fuckin pathetic, huh?”

“Ngh…” Is all you can manage, gasping as he keeps scissoring his fingers in and out of your cunt.

“That was just the fucking appetizer, doll.” And with that, he pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours, dilated and reflecting your desire when he leans over you finally.

“T-Toji… I….”

“You sure can’t run that bratty mouth no more, huh? I already fuck you stupid with just fingers?” You just whimper, he makes you pathetic, ripping your top off you now, groaning as he sees your tits right in his face, gripping them in his big hands, sucking right on your nipples, while you’re grinding eagerly, dying for his cock.

“Toji please, more…”

“Think you can handle this cock, doll?” You nod eagerly, and he grins, lifting you like you’re nothing, pausing at your skirt and moaning. “Think we’ll keep it on.”

Toji’s undressing eagerly, despite acting in control, he’s dying to slip inside you, soaking wet and eager, sliding three fingers in just to test you, and you gasp at the stretch, legs shaking while he curls them at the knuckles. “Ngh! Too… much…”

“Doll, need ya nice and ready.” He pulls them out now, shoving them in your mouth, making you soak yourself as he lines the thick tip of his cock against your folds, pressing into your entrance, you scream out at it, pussy clenching just his tip, making him hiss. “Fuck you’re so tight still, shit…”

“Please, fuck me please.”

“Begging so pretty, love you like this - ha- f-fuck!” Toji’s green eyes roll back in his own head as he sinks into your soaking wet pussy, stretching you just perfectly around him, cupping your face as he does. “Look at me, now.”

You struggle to focus your eyes as he fills you, shoving in one stroke so deep your nails dig in his back, nothing but your cheer skirt and sneakers on your body, something about that and your pigtails making Toji feral. He slams his cock deep inside you as your mouth is in a slutty O, whimpering at the burn, the stretch.

“Can’t take a dick like this, huh?” You shake your head weakly, and he wants to chuckle, to smirk, but he’s too pussy drunk now, as he fucks you harder, his bed creaking, headboard slamming on his fucking wall as he leans up. “Look at that… huh baby?”

You weakly look down, seeing your tummy bulge as he slows his movements, and you’re blushing, making Toji murmur how cute his cheerleader is, while he watches it slower and slower, groaning. His tip drags on some spot again, making your nails rake down his arms, leaving marks, and he moans, head falling low, sweat dripping from his brow against your lips.

“That’s it, fucking up your lil body, huh? Too fuckin big for you, ain’t I?” You weakly just nod, he has fucked your brains out, he’s smirking now. “Ready for real dick?”

“For what!? F-fuck!” Toji lifts a leg up now, slamming deep in your pussy, fucking wrecking you then, as you’re cumming all over his cock when he presses fully in, stuffing your little cunt so full you’re sobbing at it.

“There it is, feel her milkin’ me already, huh?” You’re dizzy, blacking out damn near even before he wraps a hand back on your throat. “Been driving me crazy for fucking years, y’know what you were doing, didn’t ya?

You nod weakly, tears in your eyes, gasping as you’re pulsing all around his thick veiny length, struggling as he stuffs you, balls deep. “T-too much, too much!”

“Nah doll, you can take it like a good girl, can’t you?” His words and his strokes fuck you up, you nod eagerly as he moans, fucking into you harder and deeper, before pulling out, watching you shake and laugh. “Hands and knees, doll.”

You eagerly obey, barely able to turn, he has to help you, pressing your head into his soft mattress as he fucks you so hard, the slapping and wet sounds filling his room with your muffled cries. You’re clinging to the sheets until he takes your hands, gripping them behind your back with one hand, delicate wrists squeezed while he pumps into your tight, eager pussy.

“Fuckin feel you, so goddamn perfect, made f’me huh?” You can’t speak, you just whimper, as he groans, yanking your head up by your hair, leaning over. “Asked ya a question doll.”

“M-made f-for you.” You whisper, he chuckles, kissing you sloppy before he lets you go, your head falling again, while he pounds inside your eager pussy, which swallows him in so pretty.

“Know how many times I… stroked it, fuck… know what you’ve done to me!? Think I’ll ever let this pussy go now?” He whispers, insane fucking things, maybe they should scare you, as he pounds you so hard you do feel split in two, but you’re just whining in pleasure as he hisses, your walls pulsing as you’re close again. “So fucking easy, huh?”

You can’t answer, you’re screaming into the sheets while he’s pounding you so hard, wrecking you for anyone, as he rambles - ‘that’s it, feel her’ - ‘no one’s ever fucked you like this, huh’ and ‘this is what you get, talking all that shit, hah- can’t fuckin’ speak now, huh?’

You’re a mess, drooling when he has you cumming again, only for him to flip you back on your back like you are some little doll to him, cupping your face and sucking in a breath for a moment. You have the marks of the bed on your pretty face, tears making your mascara trail, eyes fucked out. You have drool that he swipes, slowing then and huffing.

“Know how goddamn beautiful you are?” He whispers, so intimate and shocking for a moment, your breath catches, as he slows his strokes. “Know how you’re in all my dreams? Pretty, perfect, f-fuck…”

“Toji… y-you think…”

“I know.” You’re sobbing when he kisses you, when you’re clinging to him with numb hands from his brutal grip, and he slows just a bit, the kiss deepening. “God I’ve wanted you so long, doll, shit… like I’m dreaming.”

His words melt you, as you try to cling to any sense of reality anymore. “Oh, Toji…”

“Shh, stop making me sappy and shit, demon ass pussy here.” You breathless giggle, but it turns into a cry as you cling to him, hips rolling, when he’s getting close, and he’s cupping your face, you feel far too fucking much. “Where you want me to cum, doll, because I’m close, pussy gripping too good.”

“In me.”

“In you!?” You nod shyly, and he glares, narrowing green eyes as he tenses over you. “Anyone came in this pussy?” You shake your head nervously, earning his grin. “Perfect, gonna fill you first huh- want it all in you?”

You nod weakly, and he presses your thighs up, folding you in half, girthy cock and mean tip bullying your walls until he’s closer and closer, groaning. “Ngh!” You’re pathetically whining, he laughs.

“Beg for it, all this cum doll, been fucking waiting for this.”

“P-please- ah!” Toji loves how submissive you are despite you having been such a goddamn brat, pleased his cock has fucked your brains good enough you’re begging for it.

“Beg harder, doll.”

“Fucking please!”

“Please what, brat?”

“Daddy please!” Toji’s ended then, pouring hot spurts of cum so deep in your abused little hole, white ropes coating your fluttering walls as he damn near whimpers, falling heavy over you. You’re sobbing it feels so good, muscles throbbing and fluttering around his cock, pushing his cum and yours all down his cock. “Mnh!”

“That’s it, milk me like a good lil slut.” He huffs, easing back and shoving his cock in again, pressing kisses sweeter than his mean strokes down your neck. He exhales, fingers running down your skin as he feels you twitching under him. “Goddamn it, you’re such a brat, y’know? Until you get dick.”

“That w-was the cure.” He snorts now, shaking his head, leaning up with a breath, and cupping your face again, a thin sheen of sweat on your perfect skin, when he hears the door unlock, cursing.

“Shit…” You hastily cover yourself, as Toji struggles to right himself, hiding you under the blankets as Megumi walks in, sighing when he sees his best friend’s cheer top and likely her panties strewn along with his dad’s sweats.

“Really, you two?” He grumbles.

“Nothing happened, kid. Just… she’s…”

“Yeah, whatever.” He crosses his arms, leaning in the doorway as you peek out from under the covers. “We have a game? Get it together.”

He walks out and slams the door as you break into a breathless giggle, hastily getting up, only for Toji to shove you back down. You blink rapidly as he shoves two fingers in your sore pussy, making you hiss. “Toji what the fuck!?”

“Need you dripping me at the game, doll.”

A/N- Toji stuff is just my ABSOLUTE FILTH every fucking time, and I'm not sure I'm sorry about it lol. Reader and Toji both ain't shit, and poor Megumi LMAO. See you in the comments bbs hehe

taglist #1- @ella45jjk @rie-star @konekobby @maniccats @getoisinnocent @atiny-99 @y-u-w-k @mimiluvzu2 @kiliggirl @msniks @chsuguru @g00seg1rl @psychoartiste @aerareads @rentheannihilator @mima0127 @paradisestarfishh @themoreeviltwin @zym555 @nutmilky @superstar-t20 @2bizseechile @plimplimmeiododoi @shydroid3000 lavenderdaydream97 @xd3pr3ss3dx @tojiwoah @xllizs @collectionofdolls @midnightry @21yuki12 @angie420 @socrazylola @whosmarjj PERM- @alt--er--love @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @loafteaw @tojicvmslut @miizuzu @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @moncher-ire @orikixx @baepsays @airandyeah @naammiii

[pigfartsviatardis]

Important! Treat kids like people! I’m an educator and it’s amazing how receptive kids are to listening to reason and changing their behaviour, or at least trying to, if you pull them aside - instead of embarrassing them in front of their peers - and ask them what the hell’s up instead of just talking at them.

The other day a kid was being rude to his partner that I had paired him with for a task, ignoring her and refusing to do any work. I asked if he was ok, he shrugged and said yes. I told him he needed to contribute and treat his partner with respect, then moved on. Came back a few mins later, nothing had changed. I asked him to come have a word. Pulled him out of earshot of the kids and asked if something was wrong. He said no. I said ok but you are acting like you’re upset or angry. Are you upset or angry? He said no (in an upset and angry way lmao). I asked if his partner was the problem. No. The task? No. Bear in mind this kid was like 12 so it could well have just been hormones. I am not his usual teacher, I don’t know him, so if there was something personal going on for him it’s pretty fair to not want to tell me, a stranger.

At this point I just said look I’m gonna be real with you. You clearly don’t want to talk to me about this and I respect that. But here are the facts. You are in class. You have class work to do and a partner who is currently doing it all by herself when everyone else gets help from a partner. Is that fair? He agreed it’s not fair. I said it’s ok if you’re not feeling great and you can’t give 100%, but you need to at the very least be polite to your partner and try to contribute a little bit to the work. I said if I saw him doing that bare minimum then we can all get on with our day, but if I saw him continue to ignore and do nothing then he was going to have to stay in at break time to make up for his partners wasted time. Asked if he understood. Got a nod and a shrug, good enough.

Literally a minute later he was talking to his partner and suggesting something for their task. A few minutes after that they were laughing and chatting. Didn’t have any issues with him for the rest of the day.

Back when I was a less experienced teacher I used to come down hard on kids who were being disrespectful, mostly because I was trying to be ‘an authority figure’ or whatever. I would have been more likely to scold that kid in front of his partner and his peers, give him an ultimatum, or taken his moodiness as rudeness against me personally. I don’t recall getting great results with any of that crap. He probably would have ended up staying in and ruining both our break times. Kids are just normal people and how many people do you know who react well to being humiliated, talked down to, or punished without given a chance to discuss or appeal it?

I know teaching is different from parenting but I’ve been working with kids for quite a few years now and it’s honestly the main thing I’d say I’ve learned about them, and it’s laughably simple: they are people, they have a perspective and they understand fairness, and they will respond a LOT better to being spoken with like an equal than being talked at like a lesser being. Who’d have thought????

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[lifeasadorkwithnolife]

Monster (Azriel X Reader)

Word Count: 4700

Summary: Everyone thinks that Y/N is a horrible person for what she did under the mountain, and she agrees, but Azriel realizes that things aren't what they seem.

I have not wrote any fanfiction in 5 years, which is absolutely crazy. I've been talking to my boyfriend a lot about story ideas and he asked me, why don't you just write it down? So here it is, it's not exactly what I used to write.

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

You had hoped you would die under the caldron-forsaken mountain. The 49 years have cost you everything: your family, your court and your humanity. Amarantha had chosen you to be her right hand, you had no one to lose and everything to gain. You became known as Amarantha’s bitch, arguably a worse title than Rhysand’s. Your job was to keep discipline under the mountain and frequently had to whip and grant Amarantha’s wishes of public torture sessions when the Attor was not around.

Your reputation had made it outside of the mountain and throughout the courts, you were known to be ruthless and would kill without hesitation. You were an absolute monster.

Before Feyre had come along and saved you all from the mountain, the only one who understood your pain was Rhysand. For the first few years of your position, Rhysand would look at you with hatred in his eyes. He tortured people too, but you knew he didn’t enjoy it in the same way you pretended to. Every time you tortured the poor soul who got on Amarantha’s nerves, you would go up to them after the fact and hold their hand and ask if they had learned their lesson.

You had a gift and a curse, your gift was the ability to absorb pain from someone else, but the curse was that pain demanded to be felt eventually. Every whipping, every burn, or every cut that you performed, you took it from them to feel later. You kept this secret to yourself originally, but it’s quite hard to hide things from Rhysand.

On one unfortunate night, he entered your chambers under the mountain and witnessed the blood beginning to pool on your back. “Someone give you a taste of your own medicine?” He smirked, leaning against the door frame.

“Get the fuck out, Rhysand.” You croaked, mouth dry as you felt another blow to your back from the whipping earlier. “If I wanted to sleep with someone, it wouldn’t be Amarantha’s seconds.” You could feel the walls you built to protect yourself from Rhysand crumbling, like they were nothing but paper, and his eyes grew in realization.

He walked over to you and placed your face in his hands, his eyes growing wide with understanding. “You don’t have to bear their pain alone, Y/N.” He whispered, but you shook your head.

“Please go away.” You whispered, tears filling your eyes. Nobody had ever seen you like this under the mountain, “I can handle it, really.”

You felt the next blow and cried out, Rhysand caught you in his arms and held you. You felt him in your mind, and then your physical pain was gone, and it was just you both in your head. He was right there, in front of you, and all you could do was sigh. “I can explain.”

“Are you…. Are you taking their pain?” He whispered, and you nodded. “Why?”

“We’re all trapped here.” You replied, your voice echoing across the black void. “Someone will hurt them either way, at least if I hurt them… I can take their pain away and they can pass peacefully.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Rhys asked, and you shrugged. “I could have helped you, we’re on the same side.”

“It’s my pain to bear, I wouldn’t have agreed to this job if I couldn’t take their pain away.” You whispered back, he nodded in understanding.

From then on, you had one friend under the mountain, and when Feyre became part of the picture, you had two.

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

               When Feyre won the trials and you were released from the mountain, you realized that you had nowhere to go. Your court has disowned you and your family was…gone. Rhysand invited you back to Velaris to the dismay of his inner circle, and he agreed that your gift would remain a secret until you were ready.

               You trained as hard as you could and tried your best time and time again to win over the inner circle. You promised yourself you would tell them about your gift eventually but couldn’t bring yourself to do it, feeling like you would be using it as an “excuse” to torture others and end all the lives you did, when it was really inexcusable.

               The member of the inner circle that hated you the most was Azriel, he would immediately leave any room you entered, refuse to go on missions with you and would even stop training as soon as you were in earshot. You could sense him staring at you from afar sometimes, and whenever you would look it would be anger, hatred and maybe a little confusion in his eyes.

               You tried your best to make friends with everyone, but it’s hard to be friends with a sadistic murderer who laughed as they were killing the weak and defenseless. The only people who gave you a chance were Cassian and Feyre, and you couldn’t be more appreciative.

               One night, during one of your nightmares, you awoke to large hands shaking you awake and came face to face with Cassian. He looked at you in concern and placed a hand around your head in a brotherly, comforting way. Tears flowed down your face. “You were shouting your own name, what were you dreaming about?”

               “Cassian, do you think I can be forgiven for what I’ve done?” You whispered, looking up at him. He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I need to tell you the truth.”

               Cassian was the first person you willingly told your story to, and he looked absolutely horrified. You showed him the scars on your back and told him about the worst things you have ever done. He comforted you for hours, and in return told you his stories about how he’s killed and how guilty he feels about it sometimes.

               It was nice having Cassian after that point, you two would spar, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to throw a punch when he was open. His laughter was a wonderful sound, and he would often catch you staring at Azriel- longing for his forgiveness but knowing that would most likely never happen. You knew he didn’t trust you, and you don’t think he ever would.

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

                “I need you two to go on a mission together.” Rhys explains, looking between you and Azriel. “I don’t care about how much you don’t like each other; this needs to be done. The attor was sighted on our border, and I need him found.”

               You took a quick look at Azriel before turning away, his hands were clenched into fists, and his shadows were swarming around angrily. “I can go by myself just fine.” Azriel snapped, “She’ll just slow me down and you know it.”

               “I need you BOTH to go, which is why Y/N is here.” Rhysand clasped his hands together, looking at you expectantly. “I think she will be helpful in this mission, since the attor is involved.”

               “I am familiar with the attor.” You sighed, peeking over at Azriel. “I may be able to lure him out.”

               “I bet he’s very fond of you,” Azriel turned to look at you, “I bet you killed more people than he did, did you guys keep count like a competition?”

               You stepped back, you had barely spoken to Azriel, but these were his first words with you. Every reassurance that Cassian, Feyre and Rhys had ever provided seemed to disappear.

               “I just don’t understand Rhys, why is she here? The rest of us have killed, sure, but for good reason. She is a monster.” Azriel’s shadows circled the room, and you could feel the hatred coming off him in waves.

               ‘You’re not going to defend yourself?’ Rhys asked you, and you gave your head a slight shake.

               “This is the last I’m hearing of it, Azriel, you better bring her back here in one piece or so help me.”

               After 3 cold days of searching for the Attor, he was nowhere to be found, and Azriel’s snide comments were getting on your nerves. The flight back to Velaris was cold and silent.

               “Hey, I’m sorry that we came all this way and didn’t catch him.” You whispered, staring down at the darkening landscape.

               “I just hoped that you would be useful for something.” He replied, not even looking in your direction. You sighed, your heart plummeting to your stomach. You had hoped, on some deluded level, that this trip would allow you to talk to him and explain yourself and maybe- just maybe- he wouldn’t hate you so much anymore.

               “I just wanted to say sorry- not just for the attor but for everything.” He looked down at you, and you couldn’t tell what expression was on his face. “I’m just- I’m trying to be better than I was under the mountain, the person I was then is not me. I hope you can believe that.”

               He nodded, looking back up at the setting sun. “I believe that you want to be better.” He said solemnly, “But if what everyone is saying is true, then there is no hope for you. You will never change, even if Rhysand and Cassian don’t see it yet.”  

               You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod, you felt the cold tears sting your eyes but tried to blink them away before they could fall. Azriel saw you for who you really were, the murderer. At least he won’t lie to you like everyone else has.

               The silence ticked by when all the sudden, an arrow flew by your head and hit Azriels wing with a sharp crack. He grunted in pain and dropped a couple feet; another 2 arrows swished by and tore through his other wing. “Azriel- land!” You shouted, searching the darkened forest floor for any sign of the attackers.

               “No shit Y/N.” Azriel shouted, his wings pumping as the ground came in closer. You felt Azriel turn to the side as another arrow whizzed towards your head, but he took another arrow to the wing. Did he just…protect you? You two landed on the ground in a heap, but you stood up quickly, knife in hand as you searched the darkness for your attackers.

               You feel a presence behind you, and turn around, quickly taking the archer to the ground and holding your knife to his neck. He was older, with pointed ears and white hair. He barred his teeth angrily, but with your knees holding down his arms and knife against his neck, he was stuck.

               “Why are you attacking us?” You seethed, your knife getting dangerously close to his neck. He struggled.

               “They told us you would be passing through- you killed my whole family you bitch!” he shouted, you froze, “Just kill me! Like you did to all of them!” You stood there in silence, hesitating, trying to remember who it was that you killed. You couldn’t kill this man too, you promised you would never hurt anyone again.

               Suddenly you were under him, his knife starting to slide across your neck. You didn’t even raise your hands to defend yourself, you could see the pain of his loss clearly on his face. You nodded, closing your eyes as you waited for him to finish. You remembered Azriel’s words from earlier, he was right after all, there would be no redemption either way.

               You felt the weight lift from your throat and took a deep breath, opening your eyes and seeing Azriel’s angry from holding up the man. Azriel looked absolutely terrifying in that moment. “No, don’t hurt him- “You started, but Azriel had his knife out and slashed his neck, throwing his body to the ground. You cried out, crawling over to the males bloodied form. His eyes frantically looked around, and you grabbed his hand, but there was no usual tug, no usual surge of power as you took his pain, you looked up again and met with lifeless eyes. The male was already gone.

               “Did you…did you know him?” Azriel spat out, grabbing you angrily by your arm and pulling you up. “He shot me out of the sky and just had a knife to your neck, and now you’re crying over him?”

               “of course I didn’t know him!” You pushed back at Azriel, looking down at the male who was dead. “I just…. I just….” You felt a wave of nausea roll through you and turned so you could dry heave. Another death, because of you, again.

               “You just what Y/N?” Azriel barked, and you flinched from him. “Tell me what is going on.”

               “He’s dead!” You whispered. Azriel looked astounded, looking at the man then at you. He then laughed. “Why are you laughing?”

               “Give me a fucking break, Y/N. Lets go.” He grabbed your arm, pulling you with him.

               You two wandered until you found a cabin, the candles were still burning when you arrived and there was a fire going in the fireplace. You were becoming more worried about Azriel by the minute, his skin was losing it’s color and he was almost limping as he walked. As soon as you both entered the cabin, he sat down in a chair and started removing his leathers.

               “Azriel- are you alright?”

               “I’m fine, I just need to get this arrow out of my wing.” He muttered, looking at you.  You watched him as he reached behind him, failing to get a good grip on it. “Would you mind?”

               “I can help.” You whispered, coming up behind him and looking at his wing. His wings were beautiful, dark and somewhat translucent, you had never been this close to him before. You could see an oddish green color seeping from one of the wounds and your heart dropped, poison.

               You slowly touched the area around the protruding arrow, he tensed up. Your fingers lightly traced the area around it, trying to figure out if pulling it out was the best option or if keeping it in to stop the blood flow would be better. Removing it would probably be best, since it was poisoned.

               “Azriel, I’m going to remove it now, okay?” You said quietly, bracing your hands on the arrow. This would hurt like a bitch, but only for a second. You pulled, wincing as the wing membrane tore open a little more. Azriel grunted. “I’m so sorry, but it should start to feel better now, okay? Let me go outside so we can ice it.”

               “No- don’t go.” Azriel looked back at you, his expression a little less guarded. “There could be more of them out there- it’s unsafe.”

               “I’ll be okay, we really need to keep an eye on this for a little bit.” You reassured him and walked out of the warm cabin and into the harsh cold. You grabbed as much snow as you could fit in your sack and came back in just a few minutes later, as soon as you walked in Azriel seemed to slump in relief.

               “How are you feeling?” You asked him, noting that his complexion had looked possibly worse than before.

               “I’m feeling okay.” He looked at you, his eyebrows scrunching, then a small smile came to his lips. You stopped in your tracks, if Azriel was smiling at you, there definitely was something wrong. “I feel a little funny….I think there was something in those arrows.”

               You nodded, coming over and handing the cold pack to him. He nodded and placed it against his wing, wincing at the cold. “You really confuse me, Y/N.” He admitted, his shadows seemed as lethargic as him as they swirled around you. “I can’t figure out who you are- I just see so many different things and it’s not adding up.

               “Who do you see?” You whispered, and he shook his head, somewhat confused. “You can tell me.”

               “You act like you are kind, and at first I thought it was for show, but you seem to be kind even when nobody knows it’s you.” He explains, his voice somewhat slurring. “You pay attention, you leave out books you know Feyre will like, you leave out Mor’s favorite snacks when she doesn’t even like you.”

               “And I’ve watched you train with Cassian; you refuse to throw a punch even when he’s wide open. Even- even with that guy outside who was going to kill you- you refused to hurt him, and you cried when he died.” Azriel looked at you, without hatred, for the first time. “How can someone who killed so many people, who tortured others and laughed as their families mourn, cry over a stranger? There is something you’re not telling me. Rhys and Cassian can see it, what are you not telling me? I want so badly to be on your side, please, tell me, who are you? ”

               You felt tears fall down your face, because he’s only saying this because he was drugged. “Azriel, I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again.” You whispered, “I’m different than I was under the mountain.”

               Azriel nodded, head leaning back as he winced in pain. You grabbed his hand, not asking for permission, and pulled away his pain. You thought of your family, your last memories with them. Your mother, father and two brothers sitting at the table. Your brothers throwing food at each other whenever your parents weren’t looking, trying to get it into each other’s mouths, and trying to hide your laughter so your parents wouldn’t notice. You could feel him sigh in relief and fall unconscious. You sighed in relief, playing the memory again in your head, missing who you were 50 years ago.

               You woke up with a gasp, the pain from Azriel’s injuries tearing through your back. How did he deal with this much pain without even showing it? You snuck outside past Azriel’s sleeping form, and grabbed some snow into the pack that you had used for Azriel, hoping the cold would help your back.

               After shoveling some of the snow into the pack, you felt a presence behind you and looked up, seeing Azriel in the doorway. “Are you feeling bet-“

               “What did you do to me?” Azriel growled, walking down the three steps to confront you in the snow. “Who were those people? What did you do?”

               “You were poisoned Azriel, I just…I gave you some snow to cool you down and tried to get rid of the infection.” You looked up at him, trying to find the man who you had spoken to so truthfully a few hours before. “You were a little confused, which is expected.”

               He shook his head, “who was that family? Is that another family you killed?” he spat, and you froze in place. You didn’t realize that you had shown him that. “Forgot I asked. Don’t ever touch me again. Get back in here so I don’t have to protect your ass if someone else comes around to kill us.”

               You nodded, leaving the pack in the snow and making your way back up to the cabin. You could feel the chills start but could feel how physically hot your body felt. You laid down on the floor, where you were previously right next to the fire. Azriel stood next to the door, watching you intently like you might try to run away.  

               “Are you alright? You’re shaking.” Azriel stated, and you nodded. He walked over to you, hesitating then placing his hand on your forehead for a brief second. “Y/N, you’re burning up. We need to take off some of these layers.”

               You couldn’t find it in yourself to argue as Azriel ripped off your leathers, freezing at what he saw. He turned you over, but you were pale and nearly unconscious. You could hazily see a hint of worry on his face as you passed out.

The flight back was torturous, the pain had started shortly after you woke up, and with each pound of Azriel’s wings another wave of pain went through you. You noticed that for the first time, you were warm and Azriel kept you close to his chest. You could feel how slow your heart rate was, and the growing pain made your realize that maybe this trip would be the end for you.

“Hey Azzie” You whispered, looking up at him. He was truly so beautiful, especially with he early morning sunrise reflecting off his features and the small beads of sweat. “Are you hurting at all?”

“No Y/N, I’m fine.” He stated, looking down at you confused. “Azzie? Where is this coming from?”

“I think Azzie would be a fun nickname.” You laughed before groaning in pain. “I just wanted to tell you something really important.”

“And what is that?” He looked down at you, if you looked like how you felt, then you could understand the growing concern in your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? We could have left last night.”

“I don’t want to argue, please.” You whispered, trying to get closer to him. You felt cold and hot at the same time. “Those people I showed you- I did kill them in a way.” His arms stiffened but you continued. “That was my last good memory before I…. became a murderer. I didn’t protect them, I left and they came and attacked and I was the only one brought under the mountain.” The pain in your chest matched the pain in your back. “I couldn’t take away their pain, I couldn’t hold them as they died, I will never forgive myself.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Azriel whispered, you sighed and closed your eyes again, listening to the thumping of his wings. “Why didn’t you just use the antidote on yourself too, I could have handled it.”

“I can’t use it on me.” You whispered, before falling back unconscious.    

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

               “I need help in here!” Azriel’s voice boomed, causing you to stir and groan from your position in his arms. “Rhysand!”

               You heard thumping and were placed on a soft surface; you felt a warm hand against your cheek and found yourself leaning into it. Then the pain started, and you felt yourself writhe as the poison worked its way through your back.

               “I’m not sure what happened, one minute she was fine.” You heard Azriel say in a panicked voice, “then she’s shaking from the cold, no matter how hot I turned up the fire. She has a fever, and her skin is cold to the touch. She has been delirious for the past two hours of the flight, talking about forgiveness and you and Cassian knowing the truth. What is going on Rhys?”

               You could feel a set of hands on your back and you screamed in pain as they tried to flip you over. “Don’t do that! You’re hurting her!” You heard a voice yell, and you tried to keep your mouth shut to prevent any more noises from escaping.             

               “High lord, I’m going to need to him out of here if he can’t control himself.” You heard the women say, you recognized her voice, was that the healer?

               “Azriel, what else happened?” Rhys voice asked, you realized that you couldn’t open your eyes, but you weren’t in as much pain, Rhys must be doing something to you.  

               “We were attacked on the way back; I took three arrows to the wing but she didn’t say anything. Hell, I didn’t even see an arrow go towards her.” You could hear, maybe it was worry, in his voice. “Then she healed me somehow, but she didn’t heal herself. She couldn’t tell me why.” You felt a hand grab yours, and from the ridges of skin there could tell it was Azriel.

               “Please, help her.” You heard him whisper.

               “Madja, Y/N an absorber healer, she’s been poisoned.” Rhys instructs; you hear a gasp from the healer.

               “By the cauldrons, I have never met one before, they are so rare.” You hear her say.

               Despite Rhys’s efforts, you feel another wave of pain shoot down your back, but you keep your mouth closed to avoid screaming. “Azriel- get out.” Rhys shouted, and you tried to shake your head in objection. You need Azriel, you gripped his hand tighter, or tried to in your half-conscious state.

               You felt your shirt rip open, and then your hand was released, and steps were taken away from you. “Rhys- what are those- why does she have all those scars on her back?”

               “She can explain when she wakes up.”

               You woke up with a start, a scream on your lips. “Y/N, you’re okay.” A voice said, and you felt two hands rest on your shoulders. You snapped your head to see, Azriel? You looked around, you were in your room, but a chair had been pulled up next to the bed.

               “How long…”

               “3 days.” Azriel stated, settling back down into the chair.

               You nodded, “and…why are you in my room?” You looked around, cautiously looking back at him. He looked…incredulous.

               “Oh I don’t know, maybe I’m just making sure you wake up.” Azriel cocked his head to the side, anger filling his eyes. “Why would you do that Y/N? I would have been perfectly fine, but you almost got yourself killed, you had no right to do that to yourself on my behalf!”

               “It’s not like I can help it!” Your voice was hoarse, and you winced at the scratchiness In your throat. He grabbed a cup of water for you on the nightstand, and you drank almost the whole thing. “Azriel- can I be honest?”

               “Please do, I need a good explanation.” He retorted, sarcasm lacing his tone. His shadows were surrounding you, but seemed almost- relieved.

               “I can’t watch people in pain.” You whispered, “Watching you in pain killed me inside, and even though you hate and can’t stand to be around me, I couldn’t just watch you go through that.”

               “I did hate you.” Azriel says, grabbing your hand. “How else was I supposed to feel? You had killed people I knew, people with families, tortured for fun and acted like you enjoyed it. Hell- I think the whole court hated you.”

               You looked down, nodding, tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

               “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Y/n.” You looked up, locking eyes with Azriel, “I was such an idiot, the signs were there, and you’re a terrible liar. When I saw the scars on your back, I – I lost my shit. Literally. I don’t Madja is going to let me anywhere near the healing quarters anytime soon.”

               “I was just trying to help people the only way I knew how.” You whispered, a tear spilling. He nodded, reaching up and cupping your face.

               “I feel like a monster too, I’ve killed and tortured, but I’ve always done it in the name of our court.” He exhaled shakily, giving you a small smile. “But you are kind, and I have just been so frustrated over the past couple of months because I wanted to hate you so much- but couldn’t bring myself to. Watching you laugh with Cassian and Feyre, I felt so helpless like you could never open up to me like that. I literally couldn’t even be in the same room as you, because I felt so…jealous for no reason.”

               “Rhys- when he told me about us going together, I was angry. Angry that he would put you in danger just for the sake of getting us to get along.” You watched anger fill his eyes, “and he almost got you killed.”

               “I’m okay.” You reassured, smiling through the tears that were still falling.

               “just make me a promise, okay?” Azriel released the grip on your face and grabbed your hand, fiercely. “I never want you to take my pain again, or anyones for that matter, okay? My pain is mine to bear, alone.”

               You nodded, feeling some relief. “Thank you Azriel, I…this means a lot to me. I’ve been wanting to tell you everything for so long.”

               “I want to hear everything,” he squeezed your hand again, and you could feel your heart flutter. “I will never let you get hurt again, and honestly…Azriel is so formal. I’m okay with Azzie….as long as its between us.”

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

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[whatifitis]

♡ 150 reasons - LN 4 ♡

Summary: 150 reasons why lando loves you

Author's note: idk i thought it'd be nice

CW: literally just fluff

Hi baby!! :D

I saw this trend on tiktok just now and wanted to do it for you. I love you a lot and you know how hard it is for me to show it sometimes. I thought this could be a nice small way to at least show you a bit of how much I love you. My love for you knows no boundaries. <3

P.S. if there’s any misspelings dont say shit cause im dyslexic and you know that :(

Your smile

Your eyes

The way your eyes sparekl all the time

Your rosy cheeks

Your wavy hair (you hate it but u love it)

Your heart

Your brain

Your patience with evrything (including me)

Your honesty

Your inteligence

Your humor

The way you’re always there for anyone. Doesnt mater if u know them well or not

You always listen to people and help them when they need it even if your tired

You challenge me and help me become a better person

You never judge me

You make me feel safe

You believe in me, even when idont

You inspire me everyday whether it’s work related or just life in general

You’ve seen teh good and the bad in me and you still love me

You laugh at all my jokes even if they suck

You’re my best friend (🎶you can hear it in the silence🎶)

You respect my space when i need it, even if i go about it awfully (when writing ‘about it’ i accidentally wrote ‘tit’ :I)

You give the best fucking hugs 

When i get anxious, you always help me, even if it’s just when you sit with me and help me breathe 

You took the time to learn about me and my mental struggles so that you could help me better

You make life so much more better 

You remind me that i’m worth more than i think i do

You chose me

You make me blush and happy

Your music taste is amazing as well (btw i got us tickets to see Noah Kahan)

You’re like my personal google and dictionary

You get along with my family

My mum loves you (i think she loves u more than she loves me ngl)

You get along with max and you mock sometimes and it makes me laugh so much

You stay even if im mean and dont deserve it

You sacrifice a lot

You always put others before you 

You don’t mind my gaming (even when i keep you up late with my screaming)

You always listen to me talk about the things i like 

You hold my hand in public (it sounds stupid but it makes sense ok so shut it) <3

You never give up on me

You bring out the best in me

Max said he hadn’t seen me so happy until i met you

You make me feel lucky to have u

You support my career and stuff even though it gets really hard sometimes

You make the bad days better

You make everyday better as well, not just the bad ones

You never make me feel bad or ashamed about feeling certain ways

You always validate me when i need it

You never lie to me

You always tell me straight up when im the one in the wrong

The way you smell

The way you look when u see me

The way you hold me tight even if i’ve just raced singapore and am sweating out of every crevise

You stay strong for the both of us

Your attitude

Your kisses

You’re always down to play video games with me (IM SORRY FOR IT TAKES TWO I DIDNT KNOW IT WAS HARD)

The way you call me your love

You stand up for me even when im not deserving of it

Your cooking skills

The way you play with my hair

How we’re able to joke with eachother

The way you tell stories

The way you talk in general

How funny you were when telling me about work and snot shot out of my nose 

You match my freak

Your singing (even if its off key sometimes)

You never doubt me

U dont mind my clinginess (sorry about scaring u in the shower the other day as well)

You never tell me to go away

You always communicate with me

You plan things for our future

When you send me vlogs when im away (or even when im home but youre at work)

You make my heart feel full

You’re consistent with loving me. Whether you’re sad or mad or happy or anything, you still love me the same

Youre never too busy for me

The way we can just sit in silence together and do nothing but still have fun

The way you help me pack when im getting ready to travel

The way you pack my favorite snacks for me when im going away for a while

We can share victories together, big or small (lol big or small, ya know, like dicks)

You never make me feel alone

You watch stupid ass movies with me all the time

You dont get mad at me when you try to teach me to play valorant (it’s fucking hard, csgo is better anyways)

The way your face lit up and you started talking faster when you were talking to me about your favorite artist

The way you speak to me so gently when i need it

The way you make a playlist for every mood possible

The way you make a playlist for every book you read, even if the book was bad

How you insist we don’t have enough driving playlists so we always make more

The way you introduce me to new things (i still wont try fish, screw that)

Youre adventurous

You put up with my shananigens

The way you made a million stickers on whatsapp

How you always say ‘i love you’ with the ‘i’

When you tell me goodmorning and goodnight even if youre mad at me

How you help me dress better

How u kiss me in a way that screws me up forever

How you always ask me about my day

How you always put your leg on mine

How you show me how forever feels

How you put up with my stupidity (I REALLY THOUGHT THE MATTRESS WAS GONNA HELP)

You’re gonna be an amazing mum someday

How you spam me with tiktoks

Your laugh is the best sound ive ever heard

Youre beautiful inside and out

How u were able to make me laugh even after i’d poked by hand with a knife when i tried cutting an avocado

How you helped me escape the bed sheet when we discovered my new found claustrophobia

How you always rep mclaren and quadrant merch

How you always make backed goods and make them healthy sometimes so i can still eat them

How when we’re out and you can tell im anxious

And when you realize it you find small ways to ground me like holding my hands or tapping my foot with yours

You love the pictures i put in the new digital frame (you cant lie and say u dont like yassified alonso)

If im hungry in the middle of the night, you join me in snacking or ordering a whole pizza

How you know you’re lactose intolerant but still eat dairy filled foods

And how you lock me out the room when you have to deal with the aftermath of eating dairy

How you're already naming our future children

How you laugh til you cry at 3 in the morning from watching tiktoks 

And waking me up to watch them with you

How you get so excited when talking to me about the last book you read 

How you tell me about the book theories you hear and your own theories (violet’s mom was definitely venin)

How when u find me snacking in the middle of the night, you don’t question it

How we have dance parties in the living room

How you quote random things all the time, especially tiktok sounds

Your love for musicals

How you say “me and boq” every 5 mins

Your unconditional love for not just me, but everyone 

Your love knowing no boundaries

The way you didn’t get scared away when faced with so much hate and shit when we first started dating

Your strength

How you learned the “wait, they dont love you like i love you” thing in different languages

Your high streak on duolingo

Your creativity

Your piano skills

Your love for celsius (although it’s not good for you and you should probably slow down on them :( try coffee instead)

How you and my mum go shopping together all the time

How you’re invited home more than i am…

Your dedication to work

Your work ethic (it’s not the same as the reason above)

Your vast knowledge of everything in Marvel

How you interact with the fans

How you show me off in every way possibel (i might've said this already)

How you help me with quadrant shit

How you give me a room tour anytime youre somewhere new

The light you emit

The way you make everything so much brighter

How you always try to learn new things (we should try tarot reading again, that one was fun and we can scare the shit out of max with it)

The way you never let go no matter what

The way you always give back to people

The way you live everyday like it’s the last

The way you love me and hold onto me

[classiccowboy]

instagram j.b.

summary: follow joe and his wife evie as they go through his football career.

series masterlist.

evie

liked by lahjay10_ and others

evie: you’re all caught up..

view all 728 comments…

user: obsessed with every bit of this

user: it’s time for my annual offseason unfollow..

> evie: see ya in september!

joeyb_9: traveling with you is probably my favorite thing ever

> evie: you hear that @lahjay10_? be jealous.

> lahjay10_: @joeyb_9 we got a long off season coming up, just remember that.

> user: are we getting off season joemarr content???

user: that soup meal looks sooo good

> evie: there are few things jb can cook but a grilled cheese is damn sure one of them. 🤤

user: i can’t believe you were in austin!

evie

liked by millyg and others

evie: what the hell? tennis is kind of cool.

view all 583 comments…

user: no one likes you.

> evie: oh?

user: just had to put joe in there

> evie: well yeah duh.

millyg: are you kidding me rn? 😩

> evie: you were invited this time. don’t do that.

joeyb_9: watching it with you is even cooler. 😎

> evie: omg. joe burrow just said i was cool. *screams in fangirl* i love you.

user: always using joe for clout. 🤣

> evie: just say you want my man??

user: i hate when people come at you in the comments, you are literally the best. chin up queen!

> evie: 💗💗

evie

liked by bengals and others

evie: channeled my inner soccer mom for the #ProBowlGames

view all 200 comments…

user: i’m jealous

joeyb_9: you’d make the hottest soccer mom. 😉

> evie: 😏

> user: don’t tease us like that

> user: a baby burrow would be the cutest

> user: please do not allow this woman to reproduce.

user: spending your spare time at the gucci store? your privilege is showing. spending your husbands money is all you have to offer.

> evie: my friend, i am not a gold digger or a trophy wife, if i spent money in that store it’s because i earned it. however, i didn’t. i was watching my husband play in the pro bowl. (that’s my privilege) 🙂

> user: eat them up ev!

> user: even if you did buy gucci who actually cares??

> lahjay10_: people who ain’t got nothing better to do. yall need to be so for real.

user: i LOVE the hat. definitely giving soccer mom vibes, im here for it.

> evie: i’m kind of here for it too??

evie

liked by joeyb_9 and others

evie: make the whole place shimmer.. #NFLHonors

view all 820 comments…

user: joe could do way better

> evie: this comment is so weird.

user: this is the only NFL couple I care about. where is joe?

> evie: he’s like busy being cool and hot and shit

joeyb_9: i love you. thanks for being my super hot date. i couldn’t have made it through all this without you.

> evie: i’ll be your super hot date anytime. i’m so proud of you i don’t even have words. you fucking rock jb.

user: i would give my right arm to be married to your husband.

> evie: a small price to pay really..

user: we stan a supportive wife

> evie: 💗💗

alomen

liked by bengals and others

alomen: Honors Society. @joeyb_9 wearing custom @alomen to #NFLHonors.

view all 645 comments…

lahjay10_: My MVP

> user: ja’marr defending his man

user: I am crying

user: a fashion icon

evie: I have absolutely nothing appropriate to say..

evie: my man my man my man

evie: you slayed baby

evie: i should probably cut it out. just wanted to say @joeyb_9 you’re damn hot. that’s all carry on yall.

joeyb_9

liked by evie and others

joeyb_9: Hard work brings cool stuff

view all 1,273 comments…

bengals: Our guy!

user: legendary

user: lombardi next

evie: so true king, you deserved more. but i won’t chat about that. i love you so much joey boy, proud is an understatement.

> joeyb_9: you’re just the coolest most supportive person, my best friend. i’m glad you’re always there.

user: side profile is deadly

user: MVP in my heart

user: POOKIE

> joeyb_9: ev you have created monsters.

> evie: i heart my pookie. 🤣💗

evie’s stories

[corazondebeskar-reads]

of rage and ruin - chapter ten

chapter ten

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 5.6k

summary: joel faces his inability to protect you.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, p in v, oral, torture

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tommy Miller is a changed man. 

Four and a half years of scouring the midwest will do that to someone. 

So will being bitten by a toddler. 

Well. Probably not just any toddler. 

After Tommy had cajoled DJ into sinking his tiny teeth into Tommy’s bicep, Laura hadn’t spoken to him for three months. She refused his company at the door. 

“I have spent years—years, Miller—teaching that boy that he cannot, under any circumstances, bite someone. Do you know how hard it is to convince a toddler not to bite? Do you?” Laura had berated him thoroughly, and shut the door in his face.

She’d forgiven him, after some nudging from Tess, and a couple special deals with Bill for some new shoes for the boys. 

Even so, he’d never felt quite so alone before. There was a pull behind his ribs, an ache that said he could not give up. 

“You really don’t feel any different?” Tess said cautiously, one night when all three adults were lounged on the worn leather couches in Laura’s cottage, passing a bottle of whiskey. 

“Nah,” Tommy says. “Well, I do, but I can’t explain it. But I think I’m getting closer. I’ve got this feeling.” 

Tess crooked a brow at him. “You got me brokering deals across the goddamn half of the country based on a feeling?” 

“Ain’t like you’re getting nothin’ out of it,” he grumbled. 

“I know what you mean,” Laura admitted. “I— when Peter died—” she, with a kindness he feels sick for accepting, doesn’t say 'when you shot my husband.' “I knew.” 

“That’s freaky,” Tess says bluntly. “But alright. I’ll keep pressin’em for info.” 

It was hard, though, to get real information out of anyone, when you can’t explain that the missing person in question may also be an 8-foot-tall fairytale monster. 

There were rumors, though. Most of them turned out about as well as if he were looking for Bigfoot. 

Tess spent less and less time in Boston, taking up Laura’s sofa. Tommy spent less and less time at Joel’s cabin, instead roaming the country for any sign of his brother. Sometimes, Tess would go with him, usually if she had secured a good trade at the same time. 

But there was no sign of Joel.

Joel doesn’t let you out of his sight. He refuses to go out, even when they bring him to the ground with the shock collar. 

“She goes with me,” he snarls. 

Jim throws his hands in the air in frustration. They’ve tried… well, they’ve tried a lot of horrible things. You wish he would just go and stop getting hurt. 

“Joel,” you plead for the nth time. 

“Look at it this way,” Jim leers. “You either go and risk her getting hurt. Or you refuse and guarantee it.”

Joel wolfs out for the nth time, and horribly, you share a look with Cheryl. 

“For fuck’s sake,” she says, finally breaking her uncharacteristic silence. “He wants to bring the girl? Fine. We’ll bring her.” 

Her words are not a comfort. There is no promise of safety. But truth be told, not that you’ll voice it after all this, not that you’d ever disagree with Joel in front of them, but the verdict is a tightening noose. 

To you, the threat is gone. You helped him pick the threat out of his teeth. The two brothers were an anomaly; none of these people have any loyalty to one another. The status quo works right now, but at the slightest tip of the ship, that ends. No one is coming after you because of Mike. 

Joel had furrowed his brows, shaking his head with a glower. “That’s what we thought about Mike. Ain’t riskin’ it, darlin’. And that’s final.”

He hadn’t used his alpha voice, but you had felt compelled to shut up anyway. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was the way his jaw was set tight. You reached up, one hand against his cheek, thumb brushing his beard. “Okay,” you capitulate. 

He almost bristles at the coddling, but the rigidity leaves him in a heaving sigh, and he allows himself a moment to lean into your gentle touch. His hand covers yours, trapping it there. 

“Atta girl,” he mumbled, drawing your palm to his lips for a kiss. 

Now that it was happening, though? He smells the acrid citrus disinfectant of your fear as it curls into guilt in his lungs.

Not that he can do anything to help. He stands, hands through the bars, as they shackle him. He waits, brow twitching, as they fit the muzzle around his snout. Two of the lackeys push him against the cinder block wall outside your room, twin prongs jabbing against the furry expanse of his chest. It heaves with his heavy pants, eyes darting between his would-be guards and where you’re similarly being bound. 

Jim bitches. Of course he does. He bitches the whole time they begin the march to the surface, to the wild. 

They shove you in the van behind Joel, and he uses his great, hairy body to catch you, huffing and nudging until you manage to sit on his lap. Your hands are bound tight behind your back, tense lines of your body perched precariously, but the only other option is the floor.

The raiders are piled in around you. Well, most of them. Cheryl and her favored lackeys are in a pick-up truck following behind. Jim drives, ruling this operation as he does every other—with rigid, unwavering control. The others trapped with you in the cargo hull have guns or tasers, so clearly uncomfortable with sharing an enclosed tin can with the most dangerous creature they’ve ever known. 

None of them look at you. It’s too careful to be coincidence. He’s made his point. 

The Wolf doesn’t think it’s enough, so he growls every time someone so much as shifts in their seat. 

It speaks to the danger that you don’t even think of making a Little Red Riding Hood or Three Little Pigs joke, though they do come to you later. 

The raid is anticlimactic. The raiders mow down most of the other group. Joel disposes of the rest with neither pomp nor circumstance, just swift swipes of sharp claws. 

They work methodically through the small house, loading the back of the pickup with their spoils. That takes far longer than the slaughter.

“Can I sit down?” you eventually ask Cheryl. Jim’s made her your keeper, since she made the call to drag you along.

“What the fuck do I care?” she snaps, examining a nail under the light of the moon. 

So you sit on the porch and wait, hoping you don’t get a splinter in your ass. 

Later, under the illusion of safety, you nestle into the circle of him, as you had in those earlier days. You tip your head back and bury your fingers in his fur, one hand petting and the other holding tight. He makes a sort of snuffly sound, inquisitive and wary.

“I’m still not scared of you,” you say, splitting the silent night. “I watched you eat a dude. Today was nothing.”

He rolls his eyes but settles back down, head resting on his misshapen arms. 

When you wake, he’s more man than wolf. It’s been that way more and more often, now.

Joel cradles you the way he always does, like a child at the beach whose fistfuls of sand keep retreating with the waves. There’s a tender desperation to it that makes you ache. You can’t take it, pulling yourself close to him with his shoulders beneath your grasp, pressing your lips together as if the sweet sedative of his saliva could fix the rabbity seizing of your heart. 

A twinge near your hip gives you pause, a creeping reminder of something that shouldn’t have been forgotten.

“Hey Joel,” you say slowly, drawing his eyebrows up, “you said the heats are for…” 

He hears the word you can’t force from your mouth. As his fingers continue their steady rhythm, the soothing back-and-forth against your temple, he douses your worry. 

“‘m shootin’ blanks, darlin’,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck, not pursuing anything, but luxuriating in the moment.

You shouldn’t laugh, but you snort anyway. “You’re telling me that you’re… fixed ?” you tease. Any self-control you had before doesn’t seem to have survived him. 

He pulls away from his lazy kisses to scowl at you. “Shut up,” he grumbles, though there’s no mistaking the twitch of his lips as you grin. 

“I’m right,” you say, squealing as he nips at your neck in retaliation. 

“Ha ha,” he says, deadpan with a wry twist of his lips. “I get it. Like a dog. You gotta get some new jokes.”

“No, I’m good; these are still funny,” you say, wrapping one hand around the nape of his neck and trying to tug him back to his affections. 

“I’m serious, though,” he says, somehow settling the little bubbles that crept up your throat. “Got snipped a long time ago.” 

It’s an answer that asks questions. You don’t give them a voice. Not why, not when. You’re haunted by the thought of his past. My daughter loved that shit. It’s been weeks since he dropped that little tidbit, and neither of you have dug it back up. He sees the questions blooming in your eyes even as you snip them at the root, and shakes his head, so you follow a safer path of curiosity.

“What about the healing? What if it undid it? That’s a thing, right? Undoing vasectomies?” 

“Thought about that, too. But none of my other scars or injuries from before went away. Why would that?” 

He sounds so casually confident, and you can’t really disagree. “So you’re saying I won myself a sweepstakes from Little Debbie?”

He closes his eyes for a moment before looking skyward. “What’re you on about now?”

“A lifetime supply of creampies,” you say seriously, but it doesn’t hold, and you bury your laughter in his arm. 

“You’re an idiot,” he says flatly, shaking his head. “And those are oatmeal cream pies, you pervert.” 

It just makes you laugh harder. “I’m your little toaster strudel.”

He groans. “Wrong. Icin’ goes on the top of those.”

“Says the man who literally rubbed his jizz over my tits.”

“Alright, time for you to be quiet,” he says, covering your mouth with his hand only to snatch it back when you bite. “Now who’s the fuckin’ dog?” he mutters.

“Aw, giving up?” you say as he rises on his haunches, still looming over you.

“Nope,” he pops the p as his smirk grows. “Got a better way t’shut you up.” 

The thing about him being nude all the time is that you’re hyper-aware of the status of his cock, like, all the time. It’s been half-mast for the last hour, but it’s paying full attention now. 

“Guess I’m just as much of a dog as you. Got me over here like Pavlov.”

“Pavlov was the scientist,” Joel says absently, stroking his cock and scooting closer to where you’re sitting up in anticipation. 

“S’there a way to shut you up?” But you don’t need to ask. You cut off his retort by taking the tip of his cock between your lips and sucking hard. 

His words become a strangled whimper and you pull off with a lewd pop. “Oh yeah,” you say, “like that.” 

Before he can muster up another snarky comment, you take his balls in one hand, rubbing your thumb over them to make his hips jerk a little. His hands don’t stay off you for long, but he doesn’t try to push you around or rush you. 

A sweet kiss to each, and he knows this’ll be over a lot sooner than he’d like. 

But goddamn, will it be worth it.

You groan at the velvety feel of his wrinkled sac, which grows more and more taut as you adorn it with little kitten licks, nuzzling your cheek against it. His oaky bourbon musk has a sharp edge to it that makes you a little dizzy. With a single-minded focus, your hands curl around the backs of his thighs, a soft sigh ruffling the coarse hair. 

You pause to pick one of said hairs from your teeth and go back in for more. 

His hand rests on your head, and he gazes down at you, his eyes dark like the underbelly of a cloud grown heavy with a brewing storm. The wiry tuft of his pubes copies his scruffy beard, though the former is far less salt than salt-and-pepper. The hard line of his cock presses against your cheek, the slip of his foreskin smooth. It leaves a trail behind when you pull away, though you can’t help but lean back in and kiss the rest from the tip. 

He does the unthinkable in that moment.

He steps back.

You look up sharply, catching yourself with an oof. “Wha—” 

He doesn’t even let you finish wondering. He grabs you, both palms smothering your hips, and rolls you onto your stomach. It’s not a display of his brute strength, but instead of the thrall you don’t like to admit to being under. The slightest pressure from his urging has you rolling over.

“Need t’be inside you,” he grunts.

“You were, ” you protest with no protest. 

He shuts you up much more efficiently by the intensity of his grip on your hips as he pushes into you. His impatience finds his cock buried in the depths of your cunt and his teeth buried in the shallows of your shoulder. He rests on his elbows with your upper body trapped between them.

The breath leaves you in a whine, air forced from your lungs under the pressure of his bulk on you. 

“Oh,” is all you can muster. 

He nips at your ear in response, laving his kisses and tongue down your neck, bringing his teeth back up to the line of your jaw. 

It’s so much. You’re overwhelmed by him, by the way something in you sings at the weight pinning you to the cold floor, sweater rucked up about your waist. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to turn that isn’t Joel, and it’s bliss. White static and the pounding of his hips against your ass consume you. Your gasps and grunts and moans come from somewhere in the distance, not quite underwater, but only because his are rough in your ear, keeping you afloat. 

He runs hot, hotter than any man you’ve lain with before, and it’s not long before sweat slicks between your bodies, dripping down from his brow. You’ve given up all illusion of being an active participant, instead laying your cheek against the cool ground and letting your eyes close. 

The angle is divine. Each rock of his hips grants you the tiniest bit of friction, but it ends up being all you need. He makes you come once, twice, three exhausting times before he allows himself to take what he needs, fucking down into you mercilessly. 

You only get to delight in the sensation of his cock twitching, of the bursts of his cum inside, for a moment before he’s pulling out to spill the rest across your ass. 

When he pulls out, he slides off you to the side, but keeps you pinned with a leg and arm over you. If you weren’t so sated, floating your way down from the exquisite high, you’d roll your eyes. He’s letting it dry; of course he is. 

He nudges you with his nose, and you turn your head to catch his eyes. They’re as tired and pleased as yours, but something cheeky lurks there. He doesn’t make you wait long for it. 

“There," he says with a slap to your ass. "Now You’re a cream pie Toaster Strudel. Happy?” He's deadpan with flat brows and a scowl. 

You laugh, lighter than you’ve been in a long time. It almost sobers you—the realization that you are. You may not be happy with your living conditions and dangerous circumstances. But you’re… you’re happy with him. 

“Oh, you’re a pastry chef now?” You tease before pressing a kiss to his prickly cheek. “Yeah. M’happy.” 

He stiffens at the way your voice goes so soft. So fond. It’s undeniable—the very thing he feared the most coming to full bloom before his eyes. 

But what was he to do? This wretched world that always takes, always, never gives, it had given him you. And he’s too damn selfish to care anymore. There’s the imprint of concern, a triplicate carbon copy—barely indented, barely visible. 

But more than that, it’s a facsimile. It’s the only thing that remains of the cautious voice warning him to keep a distance. To protect you from being hurt. To protect you from himself. 

He can’t protect you from himself anymore. His hold on you turns, tightens like a corset around your ribs, and he watches in disbelief as you simply melt into it. 

No fear. No flight. No fight. Just you, and him, here. Any energy he had earlier is sapped seems to leak out from his sigh, unfurling from the look in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have called it fond. 

Joel, though? Joel’d've called it something else. 

The trips outdoors happen weekly. At least, you think so. Not that you know much about the passage of time beyond the phases of the moon. They skip the new moon since the Man isn’t useful. Everything is by-the-book, if there was such an awful thing, until the second full moon. 

The Wolf Moon rises above the glittering snow, and all hell breaks loose in her glow.

The heavy, languid body sits huge on the horizon, commanding control. It’s hypnotic. You can’t really quite look away from the cold yellow, bigger than the sun and twice as potent. 

You don’t even notice that you’ve started to move when she catches you.

Cheryl’s nails make little crescents in your shoulder, her face so close that her hot breath puffs into your ear. It’s an awful sensation, and you want no part of her in or on your body. But here you are, too afraid to do anything but take it. 

“You’re just as mindless as he is,” she says with a breathless laugh. 

You consider protesting, but she beats you to it. 

“He doesn’t even know who he is. He’s got no control. Only obeys his master,” she says. Her fingers curl under your chin, grinding the soft flesh against your teeth as she forces you to look at Jim. 

He’s got a girl by the throat. She can��t be more than fifteen. His gun sits in his hip holster, knife in his pocket. He doesn’t need a weapon. He has the Wolf. 

A man who can’t be anyone but her father is pleading on his knees. You can’t hear anything, don’t know his crimes against Jim. But Jim kicks the man back with a boot against his chest and drops the girl unceremoniously to the ground. 

He snaps his fingers and points. And the wolf lunges, teeth catching in the moonlight. 

You don’t realize you’ve screamed until the whole clearing goes silent. He’s frozen, inches from the girl, but all his attention is on you. 

“Don’t,” you whisper, and he recoils from her, standing on his warped legs and howling. 

“You little bitch,” Cheryl hisses, her fingers dropping your chin in favor of your throat. There’s a fraction of a moment where the world pauses before the cacophony erupts. 

Joel snarls, lunging for Cheryl. Jim hits the shock collar’s trigger. Joel stumbles, falls, and keeps moving. 

It earns him a bullet to the leg. Jim never lets go of the button, and you scream as he convulses, bleeding profusely on the thick patch of grass. 

It’s the last thing you see before everything goes dark. 

When you wake up, you’re in the cage. 

Outside the room. 

Joel paces in front of the barred door, eyes never leaving you. A sigh billows out when he sees that you’re awake. He drops to his knees, reaches, and just barely grabs the bars before he pulls. The metal screeches something awful against the tile, but he can reach you now. 

“Hey,” he urges, voice low and a little wrecked. “Tell me you’re okay. C’mon.”

“I’m okay,” you groan, but make no effort to sit up. You stare up at him, inverted as he is, half-obscured by the bars. “I miss Excedrin.”

He frowns, brows furrowed, but disregards your complaint. “Y’ain’t bleeding,” he says by way of comfort, though more for his benefit. 

“No, just fuckin’... hurts,” you say, closing your eyes against the sickening flicker of the nearly-burnt bulb. 

“That was real stupid,” he says. It lacks real bite, but it’s bloated with something worse than anger. 

“We both lived. And that girl.”

Joel winces and looks away. 

“No,” you say weakly.

“They shot ‘em all,” he says, the gravity of their fate dragging you down. “They never leave anyone alive.” 

“No,” you repeat quietly. His words are the swing of an axe to your sternum. 

He looks away. He’s always known you’re too soft, too good. Somehow free of dried blood under your fingernails all your life. He’s never asked, may never ask, how you ended up here. It’s not the thing to do. 

Nobody talks about before.

“I know that ain’t what you want to hear,” he tries, but it’s disingenuous, placations like packing peanuts in their unwanted staticity and general ineffectiveness. The sound grates in his ears about the same, too.

“Sweetheart, listen t’me. Y’can’t interfere. They brought you here to get me to cooperate. If they think you’re a problem, they’re going to shoot you.”

It’s a sobering truth. “But—“ you whisper. 

Joel isn’t having it. “I told you. I ain’t the man you think I am.” He swallows hard, and something shifts, his eyes gone cold and the set of his jaw hardening into a plaster mask. “I kill people. All the time, darlin’.  Even before I got bit. It’s what a man like me has to do to survive and protect people I—” a pause, a catch in his throat—”my people. Do you understand?”

He hates the way apprehension settles your teeth into the soft bed of your lower lip. The way your gaze is unwavering, though the ache wafts like citronella, as if that could keep him at bay. 

“I said, do you understand?” He repeats firmly. His words aren’t harsh, but they cut anyway. His hands on the bars rattle you a little, as if your dizzy brain needs more centrifugal motion. 

“I don’t want to,” you hear yourself say as if underwater. You’ve never heard yourself sound quite so small. 

“Goddamnit,” he growls, dropping his hands from you and rising to his feet in one smooth motion. “Goddamnit, can’t you see I’m tryin’? For fucks sake, just shut your eyes and don’t watch if that’s what you gotta do. But if you pull a stunt like that again, I can’t protect you. They will kill you.”

You draw your knees to your chest, tucked up against the corner. “I—I just—“

“You just nothing,” he snaps. “You need to listen t’me. Do what you’re told so I can keep you safe. Don’t you understand? Don’t you get it? I am not gonna let you get yourself killed because you can’t stomach what has to be done.”

Your throat closes, eyes squeezed shut tight. 

He heaves a loud, grating sigh and covers his face with both hands, head tipping back. 

A minute drags into five, and the only sound in the cell is your matching measured breaths. The thrum of his heartbeat from across the room. The silence fills with the buzz of your brain seeping out to your ears, the crackle of tinnitus, and just when you think you’re going to crack, he moves. 

Joel crouches in front of you. “Hey,” he says gruffly, but with less bite. “Look at me,” he coaxes gently. 

You want to bristle at being treated like a skittish horse, but instead, you acquiesce, taking in the lumbering shadow of him. You swallow hard, your heart lodged in your throat like gravel. 

 He sighs again, and closes his eyes for a moment before looking at you. Really, really looking. And he doesn’t like what he sees. As if your scent didn’t give it away. It’s different, somehow, seeing the fear stiffen your shoulders and pull you back from him like a hooked fish. 

“It can’t be any other way,” he says. “I’m… I’m a bad man, a shitty person, and that’s mine to bear. I can’t shield you from it. I tried.” His voice croaks a little on the tail end. “And…” he makes sure you’re looking at him still, his hand slipping between the bars, catching your chin. His thumb brushes your lip as if he can rub the bite marks out. “And I ain’t sorry. Not if it keeps us alive.”

It’s strange, the way his words turn you inside out, and his touch puts you back. But you’re properly distracted from reading too much into it by footsteps clomping down the stairs. 

The cage turns out to have been for dramatics. A red-headed man you’ve not seen before has shown up to haul you from it and dump you back in the room across the hall. 

This time, Joel is quiet. He wants to snarl, to yell, to threaten. But he bites his tongue and lets it happen. It’s this or a bullet in your skull.

Instead, he paces the cell, near-sleepless. You can hear him at all hours of the day, the padding of his bare feet akin to the beat of his heart that usually lulls you to sleep. It’s a poor substitute, but you’ve learned to accept scraps. 

They keep up their end of the bargain, though, and ten days later, they pull you from the locker room to ride along on the latest outing. This time, though, you’re stuck in the truck with Cheryl. 

She turns sideways to regard you down the petite line of her nose. “Do I need to gag you?” 

The question is drawled lazily, but her hand holding the switchblade as she cleans under her nails is anything but. The knife catches in the moonlight, the silver gleam a steady promise. 

“No,” you mumble. 

Nothing happens. She locks you in the truck, still bound. Sure, you might be able to reach the locks, but getting the door open is another story. And surely you’d fall on your face in the mud. 

 For a moment, Joel protests, but gives in. You’re safe in the truck, and he can still see you, still smell you, still hear your heart pulse through his eardrums as if it were his own. 

You don’t watch, but you have to listen. 

Nobody pays you any mind, which means you risk peeking into the bed of the truck. There are the expected supplies—rope, tools, and old sheets. But more importantly, much more importantly, a line of filled backpacks are tucked against the cab. Go bags. They have to be. There’s a bedroll on each, and you’d bet your sweater they’re full of supplies. 

Oh, Jesus. Has your life really come to that? The only meaningful thing you have to wager against yourself is a sweater? 

Fuck. 

The bags live in the back of your mind, scurried away with the tidbits you’re collecting and trying to sweep into a pile vaguely resembling a plan. 

It’s not going great, because Joel isn’t cooperating. 

“You have to eat,” you plead. 

His hands grip your shoulders, seizing onto you like it’ll make any damn difference. “I can't fucking take it anymore. Can't fuckin' sit by letting it happen,” he hisses. 

“Joel,” you murmur, bringing your hands up to cup his warm, scruffy face. “Please. When the time is right, we’ll stop. But for now, please.”

He crumples, as he always does when you beg so sweetly. And he has to admit you’re right. This is not the way. There will be a time, but the new moon isn’t it. He can’t put you in danger by being weaker than ever. 

He heaves a sigh and picks up a flank, rending the meat from the bone like he’s sectioning an orange. It should be disgusting, watching him eat raw, bloody flesh. 

It should be. 

Right? 

You’re not sure anymore.

You’ve never been one for gratuitous displays of strength, but this… isn’t that. This is primal. It stirs behind your sternum, a possessive rumble that has him look up at you with an eyebrow raised. You shake your head and scrub at your face with both hands until it settles. 

He gives a huff of approval, and then, capitulating to his belly that seemed to respond in kind to your growl, he shifts and does his magic trick, turning a huge stack of meat into a bloody tray.  

When he stalks over to you after, he raises one thick, sharp-tipped finger in your face. “Don’t say it,” he warns.

You stifle a laugh. “Don’t say what?” you ask, all fluttering lashes and saccharine innocence.

“Don’t,” he says, but the sternness of his voice falters.

“Don’t ask if you’re ready for dessert?” 

He groans, head dropping to your shoulder before sitting back on his haunches. “You’re not a very good listener,” he says. “Maybe we’ll skip dessert.” His eyes roll.

“What? No,” you say.

“Bad girls don’t get rewards,” he says, and to your mortification, you burn and squirm where he has you pinned with his hips. 

He chuckles. “Aw, ya gonna pout now?”

“C’mon,” you whine. “It was just a joke. You wouldn’t be that mean.”

“I’m fixin’ to leave you high n’ dry.”

“ Joooooel,” you whine, and fix him with your best pleading eyes. “You’re not gonna take care of me?”

He twitches. “That ain’t fair.”

“But alpha—”

He cuts you off with a growl, yanking you by the hips and diving in. He holds you to the mattress with ease as you squirm and savor each stroke of his tongue, and doesn’t let go until he’s had his fill.

The days trickle, but it’s harder to abide them. You had taken this tentative peace for granted, before, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to see the veil. It’s still there, now, but you’re hyperaware of the shroud.

Gone are the lazy days of lounging and fucking and sucking. Gone are the luxurious cat-naps (dog-naps? wolf-naps? freak-of-nature-naps?), and you struggle to remember that you’re supposed to be figuring out a plan.

Joel doesn’t forget, though. Despite your argument, he’s eating less and less. He can’t stand the haze, can’t stand the complacency that stole nearly five years of his life. 

At night, he broods and schemes. 

“Next time, I want you to run,” he says. 

“We’re not ready.”

“We’re gonna get you ready.”

You sit up in the darkness, your eyes as sharp as in the sunlight. “I’m not going without you.” 

He growls. “Darlin’, you ain’t got a choice. You hear me? You get a chance? Take it. Swear to me.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

He shakes you a little roughly. “You will if you have to. Understand me? Swear it, omega.”

He knows you’re pissed. And maybe you’ll never forgive him, never trust him again after he’s done what he swore he’d never do. But you’ll be free.  

“Yes, alpha, ” you grit out, teeth creaking with the strength of your clenched jaw. Your hands ball into fists, but there’s nowhere to direct your anger. 

His mouth drags blunt teeth down your neck, and you snarl. He’s reminded just how much you’ve changed. How every day with him turns you more and more into the animal he makes you. 

How much his bite has cost you. 

“Tell me again,” he says gruffly as you give in to the insistent pressure of his claim and relax against him. He hates it, hates doing this to you when he knows on the inside you’re frothing and raging and burning. 

But he holds you to him with that same fire and makes you repeat it. Over and over. Coordinates he could say in his sleep. The location of the key, the way to jimmy the back window loose if it’s gone. 

And the name. Tommy. Tommy. Tommy. 

Find Tommy. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

This was just a test run. An experiment to see if your newly-cleared brains (and viciously empty stomachs) welcomed back your sharp senses and survival skills. It wasn’t supposed to be the run. 

You’re not ready. You have no supplies, no direction, no plan. 

But it’s happening. It’s your chance, and you must take it. You hesitate long enough that the Wolf tips his head back and howls, urging you, and even though he speaks no words, your body must listen.

There’s no command, no compulsion. No, the howl is worse because it’s a plea. 

You must run.

So you do. 

Your heart pounds in sync with the beats of your bare feet against the forest floor. You don’t know where you’re going. You don’t know where you’ve been. The world blurs, not because you’re going fast enough but because of the unbidden tears pricking at your eyes, the pulse of fear and foreboding familiar. 

Crack. Bark shatters to your right. 

Crack. Dirt upturned inches from your left foot. 

Crack. A yelp. 

No. No. 

They wouldn’t. They need him. 

It becomes your mantra. 

Each thud of your foot against the rotting leaves and hard-packed soil pounds with it. They wouldn’t. They need him. They wouldn’t. They need him. 

The bullets stop; there’s no pursuit. You’re disposable. 

Find Tommy. 

Everything narrows to your path. To your feet and the way they carry you in turn, away from the angry yelling and howling and screams. Away from your prison and its guards. Away from your alpha— no. You can’t think like that. You’ll see him again.

You will.

Right?

dearest beloved readers, our story is coming to an end soon. it may be 2-3 more chapters including an epilogue. this particular chapter is one i'm v nervous about sharing since it's been our destination from the start. pls be niceys to me and i love you all, thank you so so much for reading.

[extinctlesspains]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE give us a yandere kwon jae sung x reader🙏🙏

A/n: Y'all love Yandere Cobra Kai so I'll keep feeding you lovelies 😘♡

𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 [𝐾. 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ! ᴋᴡᴏɴ ᴊᴀᴇsᴜɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴅᴀʀᴋ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴜɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇɴᴛ, ᴋᴡᴏɴ ᴡᴀs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴏɴᴇ sᴛᴇᴘ ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ—ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ, ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ, sᴍɪʟɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴘʀᴇssɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴄʜᴜᴄᴋʟᴇ, ʜᴇ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ, "ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ɪ? ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

You used to think you were just another student in Cobra Kai. Nothing special, nothing worth noticing. But you were wrong—because Kwon had noticed you from the very beginning.

At first, it was subtle. His gaze lingered a second too long during training. He always partnered with you, even when there were better options. When sparring, he never hit you too hard—just enough to make you stumble, just enough to remind you of his strength.

Then, the little things turned into something more.

Kwon started walking you home without asking. “It’s late,” he’d say. “You shouldn’t be alone.” His tone made it clear that arguing was pointless. When you tried to tell him you could handle yourself, he just smirked and shook his head. “No,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against yours. “That’s what I’m here for.”

At first, you thought it was just him being protective—until you noticed the way he looked at anyone who got too close to you.

It started with stares. Cold, warning glances at guys who flirted with you. Then, it escalated.

One by one, they disappeared.

David, the guy from your history class who asked for your number? He quit Cobra Kai the day after Kwon saw you laughing with him. The bruise on his jaw was proof enough that it wasn’t voluntary.

Another boy—a Miyagi-Do student—sent you a message, asking if you wanted to hang out. The next day, you saw him in school, his wrist wrapped in a thick bandage. “Accident,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

You knew it wasn’t.

And then, there was the night you finally tried to confront him.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snapped, standing outside your apartment door. Kwon had followed you home—again—but this time, you weren’t letting it slide. You were tired. No matter the guy, the always disappeared. Except one... Kwon.

His expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked amused.

“My problem?” he repeated, stepping closer. His voice was calm, but there was something sharp underneath—something dangerous.

“You’re scaring people away! You’re hurting them!” Your hands curled into fists. “Why, Kwon? Why are you doing this?” you knew it was his fault. You just knew it.

His smirk faded. In one quick motion, he grabbed your wrist—not enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath hitch. His grip was firm, unyielding.

“You don’t need them,” he said quietly. “They’re distractions.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. “That’s not your decision to make.” you snapped.

Kwon tilted his head, eyes darkening. “Isn’t it?” He let go of your wrist, only to cup your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. It was a harsh grip and you couldn't pull away. “I’m the one who watches over you. I’m the one who makes sure you’re safe. No one else.”

His touch was warm, almost tender. But you felt trapped.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered. Voice shaky.

Kwon chuckled. “Crazy for you? Yeah.” His thumb brushed over your lips, lingering for a second too long. “But that just means I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you. To protect you.”

Your stomach twisted. “I don’t need protection.”

His smirk returned. “That’s what you think.”

Then, before you could react, his other hand slammed against the wall beside your head. You flinched, but he didn’t move back.

“You don’t understand yet,” he murmured. “But you will.”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine. You should have pushed him away, should have run—but deep down, you knew it wouldn’t matter.

His gaze trailed down your neck. He left soft tender kisses along your jaw. It was gross and you wanted to push and scream at him, but you couldn't.

Because Kwon wasn’t letting go.

And no one could stop him.

[beatlblog]

#excellent#i laughed irl#at the image of john#dropping hints left and right#going like#ask me ask me ask me#and then nobody ever really does#so he does that one self-interview like#well#if no one is going to ask me i'll have to do it myself#what's all that john and paul business indeed (via @ladyjaneasher-blog)

‘...there was talk about you and PAUL’ John, your dream journal does NOT count#put the self interview on my gravestone seriously#also I have always though that about Ram - if there was something between them Ram is a nuclear attack that John could never openly answer#and goes a little way to explain the MASSIVE counterattack of how do you sleep#this is quality johntent#oh john#very subtle john! (via @drivenalphabitchpaulmccartney)

#have you ever fucked a guy?#well that only answers part of the question#has a guy ever fucked you....conveniently left out for a subby sub#😘😘😘#okay but really like what did paul think about this interview that john did for himself#do you think he almost choked when his name was dropped so close in the vacinity of 'fucked a guy' lmfao#oh john (via @ourladylennon)

#john knows like all bullies that the best defence is a strong offence#getting ahead and controlling the narrative so nobody can bring it up first#but in a way which hints at wanting people to delve deeper#john was trying so hard to out himself and nobody paid it any attention (via @drivenalphabitchpaulmccartney)

#i always think about how john keeps going on about the lyrics#like#he says I PRINT THEM UNLIKE PAUL WHO IS A COWARD#which is weird anyway#so it's not a musical thing#he thinks there's a message on there#and perhaps it's just the one lyric he mentions#but as he's already told people about that a lot#one must assume there's more that he's telling us to think about#and i really don't buy paul didn't know#he can play innocent but he must have known#probably not that john would go THAT HARD at him#because john never had#not publicly#and while he regrets it later paul seems to come to the conclusion that he gets why john did it#helped by john telling him that jealous guy was about him too#which is so funny#did john call him up drunk and sad and apologise over and over (via @inspiteallthedanger)

#john really be out there like ask me I dare you#but honestly paul pulls a lot of the same bullshit (via @takebugs)

#john couldn’t help telling on himself could he (via @origami-money)

#oh yeah i've been thinking about the bob wooler incident and john being most mortified by how upset he got at the idea of him being queer#and seemingly going on to try and appear unruffled by that potential perception by being the one to set it up himself#like it can't hurt you if you're putting it on (via @myplasticadversary)

#classic john#make something really obvious and then saying haha it’s just a joke#truly the most damning thing tbh from johns own mouth (via @sleeper9)

#i get u john.. would have done the same thing#if he had lived past 40 oh boy#there would have been no stopping him (via @cherubina)

I should be asleep but I can’t stop thinking about Ram and John’s reaction to it. If we Assume, as 90% of the world does, that there was nothing sexual/romantic between them, then both of these things (Ram itself and John’s reaction) make no sense. Ram is not cruel in its lyrics, not really, but throughout the whole album runs this very interesting thread of almost-but-not-quite taunting self-satisfaction. As someone else said, it’s very “my wife and I are having a great time off by ourselves.” But Paul is a smart man and he knows John Lennon will see it as a taunt. So that makes it a taunt.

But again, this doesn’t make sense if John and Paul were simply besties. If they were, Paul wouldn’t feel the need to implicitly tell John that he has a wife now and doesn’t need John anymore to make good music and good love, and John wouldn’t have felt so abjectly hurt (and dare I say jealous) by it.

Also there’s a part of this interview from 71 where someone asks John about Ram and that part is interesting but y'all have been SLEEPING on the last part of that question, when someone follows up with “and don’t you have a song on your new album that could be seen as a response to Ram?” And John’s like well yeah, you could see it as a response to this, or it could just be about a chick I used to know, wink wink.

Bruh. Why u always comparing Paul to women in relation to yourself. It’s like you’re literally asking people to ask you if y'all ever fucked.

[lagunned]

IT'S SO EASY, guns n' roses.

pinned rules masterlist

pairing; guns n' roses x fem!reader

summary; your band, lethality, is the hottest thing that’s hit the sunset strip since mötley crüe and the notorious guns n' roses. after a sensational night playing the whisky a go-go, you to meet a very interesting group of men that take a peculiar liking to you.

warnings; cussing, no use of y/n, alcohol & cigarettes mentioned, veryy dialogue heavy, nothing really happens because i didn’t know if anon wanted it to be romantic/romantic encounter with a band member(s), steven is having fun somewhere else.

word count; 1.6k

a/n; i honestly loved writing this. i had a hard time starting it, but when i got it going i couldn’t stop. i was even considering making this a full fledged fanfic, if anyone would be interested.

requests open, not proofread, based on this ask.

The Whisky was packed, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of sweat. The crowd of people blended into one the further you looked out—was jumping around, their energy feeding into yours as you gripped the mic stand, swinging it around erratically. Your heart pounded with adrenaline as the house lights dim for dramatic effect, and with a deep, intentional breath, you launched into the final chorus of your band, Lethality's, set. Your voice was raw, passionate, and uniquely fresh. The audience erupted, fists pounding in the air, whistling and clapping being heard.

This is what made every sleepless hour, every shitty bar gig worth it. The feeling of the audience, the bass vibrating your core, the drums pounding hard and intentional, the guitar wailing along to your voice. You were in your element. This was everything.

With one last powerful belt, you let the song ring out, clutching the microphone as the sound of your heavy breath mixed with the cheers. A slow, sexy smirk tugged at your lips. They loved you.

You turned, locking eyes with your guitarist, tossing your damp, messy hairy over your shoulder and stepping back from the microphone stand. The applause and whistles followed you offstage, still roaring in your ears as you grabbed a towel and wiped your damp face.

You were shocked that Los Angeles had loved Lethality that much, given that they didn't take to women-led bands very kindly. They often watered them down to being a "woman in Rock" and not a "rockstar." You loathed it, and you be damned if it happened to you. You deserved to be on the same playing field as the rest of these young, dumb, and full of cum men. Not that you honestly wanted to be compared to that, though.

"You really know how to work a crowd," a voice called out.

Your eyes shot up to see an older, chubbier man leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking at you in thought. He nodded towards the dressing rooms. "You've got some serious fans wanting to meet you."

You raise an eyebrow in uncertainty, "Fans?"

The man sends you a shit-eating grin and sniggered, "Yeah. Ever heard of Guns N' Roses?"

For a brief second, your heart skipped a beat as you felt your hands get clammy—but you played it cool, tossing the wet towel onto a nearby beer crate. You exhaled through your nose and ran a hand through your hair. You knew Guns regularly went to the Whisky and other clubs you and your band frequented, and you were bound to run into them, but you still felt extremely nervous. You absolutely adored their newest album, Appetite for Destruction.

"Well," you eventually muttered, rolling your shoulders, "guess I better not keep them waiting, huh?"

With that, you strode down the hall, your heart beating so loudly you could feel it having a concert in your head. The hallway was dimly lit the further you walked down, the sounds of the Whisky still thrumming in the distance. Your heeled boots echoed against the floor as you approached the dressing rooms. Guns N' fucking Roses wanted to see you. You weren't one to get starstruck, you had met some of the best musicians to come out of the strip, but you weren't oblivious either. Part of you was curious, another part cautious. You knew how these men were. Hungry for sex, drugs, and dabbled in Rock 'n' Roll when the job called for it. You also weren't one to get caught up in the rock mystique. Yet, if they had something to say, you were damn sure going to hear it.

You reached the dressing room door and took a steadying breath. You took a second to smooth your hair and shake out the last of your post-show adrenaline. Then, you pushed it open.

The room was buzzing with soft conversation. The scent of fresh leather, whiskey, and cigarette smoke hung in the air. The ginger lead singer, Axl Rose, was the first of the four to look up, reclining in his chair, a drink idly dangling from his fingers. His sharp hazel eyes flickered with something unreadable as he took your figure in. Slash was perched on the couch, lazily tapping ash from his cigarette, while Duff and Izzy leaned back in conversation, their laughter cutting off the second you entered. Instantly, you noticed the lack of their drummer, Steven Adler. Huh.

Four pairs of beady eyes locked onto you.

"Well, well," Duff spoke up, giving a slow, acknowleding nod. "The woman of the hour."

You smirked, stepping inside with your arms crossed. "Didn't realize I was on your schedule."

Axl's lips curled into something between amusement and intrigue. "You weren't. But we couldn't ignore what we just saw out there," he tilted his head, studying you. "You don't just perform—you own that stage."

The way Axl said it wasn't flattery. On the contrary, it was a statement. A challenge, maybe. You couldn’t tell. Not yet, anyway.

You met his gaze without flinching, a newfound confidence overtaking you. "That's the job, isn't it?"

To your right, Slash chuckled, flicking his cigarette once more. "Yeah, but most people don't do it like that." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his leathered knees. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

You shrugged, "Same story as everyone else. Small-town band, a lot of shitty gigs, and too much cheap beer."

Axl smirked at that you noticed. He must've liked that reply, you thought.

"Not everyone makes it out of that."

Something about the way he said it made the air feel heavier, just for a beat. You could feel them sizing you up, trying to figure out if you were just another wannabe act, or something more. Maybe they were checking you out, who fucking knows?

You glanced around, then raised an amused brow. "So, you dragged me in here just to stroke my ego, or is there something else?"

Axl took a swig of his liquor, sliding his arm onto the armrest. "Maybe both."

Axl's words hung in the air, stretching the moment just long enough for you to feel the weight of their attention. You didn't mind it—if anything, you were used to being watched, analyzed, judged. But this? This was different.

Slash took a slow, tentative drag off of his cigarette, exhaling a thin breath of smoke before speaking again. "How long have you been playing as a band?"

You walked over to the other side of the couch he sat on, your eyes not leaving his hidden ones. "Long enough to know what I'm doing."

That earned a chuckle from Duff. "Yeah, we picked up on that, Susie-Q."

Izzy, who had been quiet until now, studied you with that easy, unreadable gaze. "Your sound's different. It's not just your voice—it's the way you hold a crowd. Who are your influences?"

You shrugged, "A little of everyone."

Axl chuckled and swirled the whiskey in his glass. "That's the safe answer," he retorted, clicking his tongue in amusement.

"Safe," you echoed with a knowing, smug smile, "or just true?"

That got a reaction—albeit a small one—a flicker of something behind Axl's eyes. The kind of interest that wasn't politeness. He wasn't just shooting the shit with you. None of them were. They had intentions—intentions you were unsure of.

Slash tilted his head softly, "You got a label yet?"

"Not one worth signing to," you replied smoothly as you shook your head.

Izzy and Duff exchanged what felt like their tenth glance of the night. Axl's smirk deepened as you quietly let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You were very nervous, after all.

"Good," Axl clicked his tongue, "means you're not an idiot."

You huffed a quiet laugh, "I try."

This whole conversation had your mind reeling: panic mode on. This was going nowhere, and you didn't really come here to get drilled about your music. They didn't even ask to see the rest of Lethality, just you. You weren't sure what to expect when walking backstage, but being rallied up by Guns wasn't it. Their gaze was still on you, making you feel small. You look at Axl from across the room—the gears in his head were moving. You soon realized that never meant anything good.

Axl turned his head to look at you dead on. "So, what's next for you?"

You met his gaze without hesitation, your eyebrows furrowing. "Why? You planning to keep tabs on me?"

Slash grinned, putting out his cigarette in the steel ashtray on the coffee table. "Wouldn't be the worst idea. Not every night we someone actually own the stage instead of just.. standing on it."

Duff gestured towards you with his beer bottle. "Crowd was losing their fucking minds. You got 'em wrapped around your pretty little finger."

You shrugged. “Like I said, that’s the job.”

“And like Slash said, most people don’t get that. They think it’s just about playing the songs.” Izzy eyed you, like he was still trying to figure you out. He motioned towards you as he pulled out a Marlboro from his pack. “You’ve got something else.”

Axl let out a low chuckle and cleared his throat while shaking his head slightly. Then, he raised his glass. “Right. Here’s to whatever the fuck happens next.”

Your eyes flicked to the band’s whiskey bottle on the table. Without a word, you picked it up, twisted off the cap, and took a deep gulp before setting it back down on the coffee table with a quiet, gentle clink.

“You’ll be seeing more of Lethality,” you said simply.

Slash huffed a quiet laugh. “Good. Scene’s getting boring.”

Duff nodded in agreement. “Listen—If you keep playing like that, you won’t be stuck in clubs forever.”

Izzy didn’t say anything, just gave a small, knowing smirk.

Axl’s gaze lingered for a second longer before he set his now empty glass down. “Guess we’ll have to just wait and fucking see.”

The conversation shifted, drinks flowed, and the night stretched on. Whatever this was—whatever had started here—you had a small feeling burning deep inside that this was just the beginning.

© lagunned (2025—) all rights reserved.

[rj-cryptidian]

This was literally yesterday:

Customer: I got a text saying I had a toll violation and they were going to suspend my license, but it feels suspicious...

Me: Yeah that's a scam, we never text you, we only contact you via email or paper notice.

Customer: Oh! Ok good, I didn't click on anything, I just wanted to call to be sure! But can you check if I have any violations in your system just in case?

Me: Sure, what's your license plate number?

Customer: Oh, I don't have a car...

Me: 😐 Then how would you have a toll road violation???????

~Also~

Customer: I got a violation with all these fees! I don't want to pay these! What are these even for?!

Me: So those are added on automatically when you get a violation, there's a section on the back that tells you what the fees are for. But! You can appeal with the form on the back of your notice, so you only have to pay $4 instead of the $54.

Customer: This is ridiculous! Y'all want me to pay $54 for a $4 toll?! Is this even legal?! I ain't paying all that!

Me: Again, if you appeal, you only pay $4.

Customer: What even are these fees? I don't live in that state! Why am I paying y'all for all this stuff?!

Me: Again, the explanation of the fees is on the back of the notice directly above the form you use to appeal so you only have to pay the $4.

Customer: So I gotta come to your state and appeal this?

Me: No, you mail in the appeal form with the prepaid envelope we sent you to do that with.

Customer: It doesn't have a stamp on it or anything!

Me: That's because it's prepaid.

Customer: So I just mail this back?

Me: With the 4$ payment, yes.

Customer: Ok...I'm not paying no $54 though!

Me: Ok! That was always an option!

Customer: Ok...thank you!

~Also Also~

Customer: I'm calling to get you to check on my account for me.

Me: Sure thing, do you have your account number?

Customer: (annoyed) No, why would I have that? I have my social security number though.

Me: (fighting the urge to hang up and scream) Your social wouldn't be on the account. Do you have this other number I can search you up by?

Customer: (still annoyed) No. Why is this so hard, they usually just bring me up by my name!

Me: What's your name then?

Customer: It didn't come up?!

Me: No, that's why I'm asking.

Customer: You ask too many questions! (hangs up)

I could honestly write a novel of dumb stuff people have said to me at work. Critical thinking is not a requirement for a driver's license apparently 😞

worst thing about service is that guests will look you in the eyes and ask something like “does your bacon cheese burger have meat or does it only have bacon?” and you have to answer that seriously as if they didn’t just ask you if your burger has burger. is there seafood in the shrimp pasta? take a guess. Please tell me your favorite guest or customer quotes in the notes

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day sixteen: puppy love

ᰔ pairing: frankie morales x reader

ᰔ summary: an easy sunday morning with two lovesick fools

ᰔ author's note: this is continuation of the fic i wrote for this series :) frankie deserves the world and i'll die on that hill. i love him and would kill or die for him. thinking about doing a little series for him once this is done 🙂‍↕️

ᰔ content warning: none! single father frankie, cute and domestic

"Frankie," you giggled. "Stop it!" You swatted at Frankie's hand, which had wandered close to your ass. Here you were, innocently trying to choose the right apples for your lunch this week while your boyfriend tried to get his hands all over you.

"I'm just keeping you close! Got a lot of people here," Frankie argued. You glanced over his shoulder, the two of you side by side, and took in the lack of patrons around you. The only person to bear witness was the baby, who was sound asleep in the stroller. She slept soundly, completely unaware of her father and his hijinks.

"It's 10am on a Sunday morning," you returned. "The only people in here right now are us and the birds."

You finally grabbed a few green apples and tossed them in your reusable produce bag. As you stepped away, Frankie followed. He had a knack for sticking close, you had come to realize.

"It's the birds you have to keep an eye on," Frankie warned. When you looked back in confusion, he had a shit-eating grin on his face. It earned him a light 'thwack' against the chest as you rolled your eyes.

"Francisco, I swear," you muttered under your breath. Despite your exasperation, you laughed to yourself. Without another word, you grabbed the handle of the stroller and continued down the wall of fresh produce you needed to look through.

Things had been going well between the two of you. Over the last couple of months, the two of you had grown close in a short time. It started small with you dropping by to give Frankie clothes for the baby, or him mowing your grass when he already had the lawn mower pulled out.

Before you knew it, it had become dinner and movies. Long drives around town with a stop for ice cream or some sort of sweet treat you requested. Frankie liked to surprise you late at night, as if he was sneaking around like some love-struck teenager. Not that you were any better with the way you let him climb through your window instead of making him use the door.

Now, you two were practically inseparable. Last night, you mentioned that you needed to go grocery shopping but you dreaded it. This morning, Frankie and his little girl were on your doorstep and ready to help with the task. If you hadn't fallen before, the gesture alone had your heart captive.

Frankie slipped away to grab a few fruits for his daughter, which left you with the baby. Though he was only a few feet away, he kept an eye on the two of you. When you were around, it was hard to keep his focus on anything else.

The remainder of the shopping trip was filled with relaxed conversation and light laughter. It was just easy. Even when the baby woke up, she didn't make a peep. You took her out of the stroller and held her as the two of you finished with the last aisle. You talked to her in a quiet voice, holding up different objects for her to touch and hold. Out of the corner of your eye, you felt Frankie watch you both.

As Frankie loaded all the groceries in the truck, you made quick work with the car seat. Once the baby was settled, you climbed into the passenger seat and sighed to yourself. Today felt like a perfect Sunday. No rush that pushed you through the day.

"Think you could go for a burger before we head home?" Frankie asked as he climbed into the driver's seat. He had the good sense to bring some ice packs for the groceries, which gave leeway with the time you two spent together.

"It's like you read my mind." You reached over to hold his hand, your fingers intertwined with his.

When you were with Frankie, the world felt like it slowed down. You felt yourself loosen up and let yourself live in the moment. He brought out a different version of you, some lovesick fool who couldn't get enough of whatever he had to offer. You wanted to spend every minute you had with him, and it seemed like the feeling was mutual.

Frankie chose a small diner nearby. It was a spot he had taken you a few times before. Though this time it was for lunch— before had been at some odd hour of the night as it transitioned into the morning. It was good for a sleepless night and a stack of pancakes.

You had chosen the booth in the back, the same as last time. It had a window that allowed for a perfect view and it was circle-shaped, which meant you didn't have to have a table between the two of you.

"If it isn't my favorite two lovebirds," Barbara joked. "Can't believe you're here while the sun's out. Figured you two were vampires with your schedules." The waitress, easily in her late sixties, approached the table with two cups of coffee already ready. You grabbed it with a big smile, a thank you tacked on before you took a sip.

"Had to get our coffins fixed up. You wouldn't believe the rates for silk interior nowadays," Frankie easily played along. He looked relaxed, one arm slung around your shoulders and the other rocked the car seat.

"Believe me, Ricky has told me more than enough about the cost of silk interiors. Darlin', if this man starts talking about reupholstering the inside of his car, you run in the other direction," Barbara warned you. She pulled out her notepad as you laughed.

"Frankie would die before he changed something about his truck. I suggested a new air freshener and I almost had to walk home," you chuckled.

"Men and their cars," Barbara rolled her eyes. "The usual for you two?" She looked up to see the both of you nod, as she expected.

As you and Frankie settled into a light conversation— something about your job, you watched the patrons that passed by. It was another perk of the booth; it offered the perfect view for people-watching.

You had tucked yourself into your boyfriend's side when an elderly woman approached the table. She looked small and frail, but she had the sweetest smile on her face.

"I apologize for bothering you two, but I just had to tell you that you make an adorable family. You two remind me of myself and my late husband." Your face warmed at her endearing comment. While you wanted to tell her that you were the baby's mother, and this wasn't the sight she thought it was, Frankie seemed unbothered. If anything, from the corner of your eye, he looked touched.

"Thank you," Frankie smiled. "I'm sorry to hear about your husband." He gently squeezed your shoulder as he spoke.

"Oh, thank you. We would have been married for forty five years this May, god rest his soul. Let me let you in on a little secret." The woman leaned in a bit, her hand on the table to keep herself steady. "Say what you need to say. Saves a lot of anger and hurt. You may get a shoe thrown at your head, but better to get a concussion than divorce papers."

You couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up inside of you. It was contagious, considering the woman and Frankie followed suit. She gave you both a quick blessing and a 'have a wonderful day' before she hobbled back to her seat.

"We need to start going out on Sunday mornings," Frankie mused. "I guess we've been missing out with all the late night dates."

"You mean you didn't enjoy that run in with the crackhead last week? He made our stop at the lookout far more interesting. Nothing beats looking up at the stars and having to move spots three separate times." You leaned back into Frankie's side as you nursed your coffee.

Frankie rolled his eyes, but you caught the smile on his face. You two had your fair share of wild stories so far, and selfishly, you wanted more. You hoped to one day be in the old lady's spot, talking to two kids in love before you returned to your wrinkly old husband.

Barbara returned with two stacks of pancakes and the assorted sides that came with them. You and Frankie turned the table into a sort of smörgåsbord of breakfast food. While you ate, the baby stirred and grew huffy. Without missing a beat, you reached past Frankie and scooped her into your arms.

Frankie admired you as you talked to his daughter, the way you sat her on your lap and let her play with the rings on your fingers. He knew he made the right choice, letting you into his home and heart that day you came knocking. When you looked to him and caught him staring, you smiled softly. He returned it, and leaned over to kiss your temple.

If this was what his life was going to look like, he was a very, very lucky man.

[wolfie200510]

Hi! Can you write about a reader who has eating disorders and Rafe helps her overcome them?

Autor's note: I didn't know much about ed so I have to Google it so I'm really sorry if something is not accurate. I tried my best to write this good and I hope you will like it. Also, I'm sorry you have to wait so long.

You're perfect - Rafe Cameron 💖❤️‍🩹

Pics are from pinterest. Dividers: @enchanthings

Summary: reader who has eating disorders and Rafe helps her overcome them

Warning: eating disorder, bullying, body imagine disorder, mention of drug use (I guess that's all)

You and Rafe are friends since you two are little. Your parents are good friends with his parents so you two always spent a lot of time together. You always played together when your parents were talking about business stuff. As you two grew up, you went to the same school, and you were happy that you two were the same age so you two were classmates too. In primary school, it was just the two of you. Only you were there for each other, you even studied together. But in secondary school, he befriended some other guys, and he started spending less time with you.

You didn’t mind it, you know that he needs guy friends too and you were happy that he found some other friends but you also missed him. You felt like he forgot you. But the truth was far from that. Actually, he started to fall for you and when he realized that he quickly acted and pushed you away because he didn’t want to admit it. Of course, you had some friends too, but you weren’t really close to them.

It also didn’t help that as Rafe drifted from you, people started bullying you. You didn’t understand why they did it. Of course, you weren’t as pretty as the other girls in your class, and you weren’t as skinny as them. Even your “friends” started bullying you. You didn’t want to let their words get to your head, but they did. The more hateful words you get, the more insecure you felt. You weren’t fat at all, you didn’t even have any plus weight, but some people still called you fat and ugly.

This bullying went to the point where you started eating less and less so you can lose some weight and you even started counting the calories. You often skipped meals and always told your parents that you just weren’t hungry. And you did lose some weight. You even started using makeup to be more beautiful, but the bullying didn’t stop. You felt that it just got worser. At first, it was just in school that you overheard people talk about you, then people told it your face and they said that they will never understand how Rafe could still be friends with someone like you, then some people even started bullying you on only.

As things got worser over the years, you were considering that you will tell Rafe about it, but you end up not doing it. You know that he has his own problems, and you didn’t want to bother him with your problems. That was until one day Rafe showed up at your place and he asked for your help. He told you about his addiction and how his relationship got worser with his father. You listened to him as he just talked and talked to you all night as his head rested on your chest, his arm wrapped around your waist, and you were playing with his hair.

“I don’t know what to do, Y/n. I’m sorry that I just dropped everything on you like that. Fucking hell, I’m sorry for everything. That I pushed you away and everything else. I’m sorry I only came to you now, but I didn’t know who else would listen to me” he said.

“It’s okay, Rafey. You know I’m always here for you and you can always come to me” you whispered to him, and he nodded.

“I want to stop with the drugs but it’s so hard. I can’t do it alone. Please help me” he asked you and lifted his head to look at you.

“Of course, I will help” you said which made him smile a little and you smiled back.

‘God, I missed your smile. I missed you so much. I was an idiot for pushing you away. But now that I have you back, I will never let you go’ he thought to himself.

Just as you promised to him that night, you help him overcome his addiction. It took a lot of time, and he fell back to using drugs a few times, but you never give up on him, and he was extremely grateful for you to that. He was grateful that you were there for him. With your help he got better and better each day, and now he has been clean for months.

Meanwhile he got better, you got worser. People bullied you more because Rafe started spending time with you again. You know, he is popular, and you were aware, he is very attractive, and a lot of girls like him. While you were just you. Sometimes, you had the urge to tell him about the bullying, but you never told him.

“I just don’t understand why Rafe likes her. I mean… did he see her? She’s not even pretty” you overheard a girl once, after school.

That girl’s words played in your head constantly and you tried to lose even more weight. You tried to act like everything was fine, but Rafe noticed that you eat less, and you started to skip meals. When he first came to you that night, he noticed how much weight you lost already but he didn’t think much about it. But now that he spent more time with you again, he noticed the change in your behavior and your eating habits.

As days passed, Rafe had enough. Whenever he asked if you wanna go out and grab some food, you always come up with some excuse.

Today, the same happened as always. He was at your place, you two were in your room when he asked if you wanna go out to have dinner, but you said no. You were sitting on your bed with a book in your hand as he was standing in the middle of the room.

“Why?” he asked you when you declined his offer again.

“I’m not hungry” you said and shrugged your shoulders.

“That’s a lie” he said “You didn’t eat anything today”

“I did it” you protested.

“Yeah. What did you eat?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, but you couldn’t answer to that, so you avoided eye contact and tried to focus on your book again.

He sighed and sat down next to you, taking the book from your hand then he placed a hand on your thigh.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“Nothing” you said quickly. Maybe too quickly.

“Please tell me, Y/n. You helped with my addiction. Whatever the problem is, let me help you. Please” he pleaded to you, but you shook your head.

Rafe opened his mouth to speak again but your phone buzzed with a notification. You know, it’s probably another hateful message from someone so you quickly reached for it, but Rafe was faster and grabbed your phone. When he saw the message his eyes darkened.

“Who wrote this?” he asked, his voice dripping with anger. He knew that he will make that person pay whoever wrote it.

“I don’t know” you mumbled.

“You don’t know?” he asked angrily but then he took a deep breath to calm himself.

You took your phone from him with a sigh and opened all the messages. He saw one message, so it wouldn’t change anything if you tell him the truth. You handed him your phone and he read every single message, and you see how his eyes darkened as he read more.

“How long this is going on?” he asked as he looked up at you and you see the anger in his eyes.

“For a while now” you admitted quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me before? That’s why you lost so much weight? That’s why you don’t eat properly?” he asked you and you just nodded a little.

“I didn’t want to bother you with my problems” you whispered and turned away from him, but he grabbed you chin and forced you to look at him.

“You will never bother me, okay?” he asked firmly and all you could do was nod again “Next time, something like this happens tell me. And now tell me everything about it”

You sighed and wanted to turn away from him, but he didn’t let you. You looked back into his eyes and his eyes were pleading for you to tell him the truth. You sighed again but you told him everything. How it all started and how it got worser. His heart broke with every word you said. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t notice that sooner. That he didn’t notice that you’re struggling.

“Y/n… None of those things are true. You’re extremely beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on” he reassured you “Don’t you ever starve yourself because of some jealous people” you smiled at his words as your eyes welled up and you nodded.

After that night, Rafe always made sure that you eat properly. He even decided to spend a few weeks at your place to make sure that you’re eating properly and don’t skip meals. He always woke up earlier and made some light breakfast for you. The first few times you didn’t want to eat it.

“That’s too much, Rafe. I’m not hungry” you protested.

“Y/n, please… You didn’t have to eat all of it. Only eat a little please” he pleaded to you, so you started eating what he prepared for you. To your surprise, what he made was delicious. Soon you get used to the fact that he makes breakfast for you, and you start waiting for it because he was always able to surprise you with it.

As you started eating more and more in the mornings, he took that as a step forward. He knew that you wouldn’t get better in a few days. He knew that dealing with eating disorder is not easy, but he desperately wanted to help you overcome it. You still didn’t eat as much as you used to, and you still said no whenever he offered to go out to grab something for dinner. But he was patient, and he didn’t want to force you to eat. He was just glad that, at least now, you have breakfast.

As a few weeks passed Rafe noticed that you finally started eating more. You eat more for lunch and sometimes you said yes when he offered that you two should go out to have dinner. Rafe knew that you’re still counting the calories, but he still took it as a success.

“You know, I’m so proud of you” he said after you come home from a restaurant, and you laid in his arms in your bed while he was playing with your hair.

“Really?” you asked and looked up at him.

“Yes. Really. I’m so happy that you eat more now and that you gained back a little weight. Don’t get me wrong, you’re always beautiful but you are much more beautiful like that” he whispered and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Thanks for helping me” you whispered.

“You helped me too. That’s the least I can do. And soon, you will get rid of counting calories too” he said determined.

Just as he said, he continued to help you and when he bought something for you, he always erased the calories from the packaging so you can’t check it.

“Are you serious, Rafe?” you asked when he did that the first time. He bought you some chocolate and you wanted to check how many calories it contains but it was all black.

“I’m dead serious. Just eat it and don’t worry about the calories” he said seriously.

As the weeks passed, he still did that, and you slowly get rid of the habit of checking the calories in the packaging. As Rafe saw that you stopped looking at the calories and that you finally started eating properly again, he was proud of you, and he was more than happy that he was able to help. The only thing that would make him even happier, if he had the courage to tell you how he actually feels about you. But he was afraid that you don’t feel the same so he decided to keeping his feelings to himself.

[fizzigigsimmer]

It's never too late to tell an author you like their work. I'm so serious.

As a writer, I don't know how to properly convey to people how much it means to me to witness others engaging with my work. Seeing their responses. Hearing their thoughts and interpretations and perspectives of the character.

Yes. We all write for ourselves in some capacity. But we also write for the reader. For the connective experience of experiencing the work together.

If you've ever wondered whether leaving comments or reaching out to the author of an abandoned work makes any difference, I want to share this personal story.

In 2015 I began writing a Marvel Stony fic, with a partner that was a historical au based on the Sound of Music. This monster was an epic wartime romance that put Tony and Steve in the center of the racial conflict in Pre-World War II Austria. And when I say it was epic I mean it was epic. The plot spanned across years, and wove in characters across our favorite fandoms because it just required that many characters lol.

Anyone who knows me or my writing knows by now how much I love a good historical piece, especially one that attempts to strike at the heart of what makes us human. And in 2015 when we first started, it felt to us like a worthwhile endeavor to remind people of the cost when we lose sight of each other's humanity. like I said, ambitious, kinda silly, and yet to date, one of the most rewarding pieces of fiction I have ever written.

It was hard to write, but so so LOVED. The amount of research alone we put into that story could probably fill a book lol.

But life got busy, the writing partnership disolved, and though it broke my heart not to finish after all that effort, the truth of the matter was the joy in it for me was gone. I held out hope that one day I would get the groove back, but as these things go time just kept passing by and I don't see myself returning to it anytime soon.

But today I received this really beautiful comment on A03 that reminded me of this story and how much I loved it. It included a humble ask.

After wiping my tears lol I went searching back through my files to find the outline document for this fic, because as I said we did an extensive amount of research and story plotting.

I've just posted it, in addition to a hanging piece of an unpublished chapter that we never made it to. Thank you Wolfstar135!

[you-know-i-get-itt]

final jeremy theory

before tgr comes out. tw suicide

this theory is influenced in part by this post by @minyard-05, this one by @tessasilverswan, and this one by @dustisus. i'm going to try covering whatever we've been given snippets of so far

siblings: jeremy has two brothers and one sister, and we already know about bryson and annalise. the fact that cat said he has three siblings but hesitated suggests that the third sibling is alive but out of the picture (and also younger than jeremy). given jeremy's response to jean joking about suicide, we can guess that sibling #3 tried to kill himself (i don't think jeremy did), but it didn't work and he's now in a mental health facility somewhere. sibling #3 used to go by 'knox', which is why jeremy doesn't like when people call him that. he and jeremy were very close, and jeremy knew that he was depressed and was trying to help him through it (but didn't realise how significant the problem was until later) more on this later

money: i get the idea that jeremy's butler (william i think) had known him since he was maybe a kid, so i'd like to suggest that jeremy's father's side of the family came from old money, but jeremy's father spent nearly everything on drugs/alcohol. william almost had to leave, but then jeremy's mom remarried and his stepfather was loaded and william could stay, but also all of this money actually comes from his step-grandfather who could easily cut them off on a whim (something he threatens to do after the banquet)

drugs: there's actually a few things here: - jeremy's father was an addict. he overdosed a couple of times (never fatally, because he's still alive, just somewhere else). jeremy's mom left him when it got too much, when jeremy was in his mid-to-late teens i think - sibling #3 (15-17 at the time) tried to commit suicide by od. before swallowing the pills, i think he made a last ditch attempt at trying to live by calling jeremy, who was, unfortunately, at an exy match at the time. he saw that the phone was ringing but shoved it back into his bag because he had to sub in - after sibling #3's attempt, jeremy followed some good old-fashioned reaction-formation and got into hard drugs himself. he tries to replace this with caffeine later. more on this later

banquet: after his attempt, sibling #3 was found by bryson and the entire thing was kept on the down-low, until the banquet, because someone (not a trojan, maybe a raven? someone else? idk) caught wind of it and decided to come taunt jeremy about it. and jeremy snapped. this entire time, he'd been dying with guilt over the fact that he couldn't get to him in time he should have gotten to him in time, it was just one thing one moment and it had changed everything and if he could go back in time he'd fix everything he promised he'd fix everything. and also jeremy was high as a kite. so when he snapped, he snapped ugly. now, obviously other people don't know about what happened, so it couldn't have been very public, but imagine they're leaving the banquet, in a relatively empty corridor, when Random Person #1 comes to make a quip about sibling #3, and jeremy just. lunges at him and beats him up pretty badly, maybe almost kills him. there ARE a few people around, though, and they figure out what's going on, and one of them calls the cops on jeremy and someone else calls child services on sibling #3. jeremy is charged with assault (though these charges are dropped fairly quickly because money), and sibling #3 is carted away. they could've stopped him from going too, but turns out he didn't want to stay (the one person he was closest to in his family, jeremy, hadn't been there when he'd needed him most, so). the banquet that snapped jeremy's family in half: check

drugs part 2: jeremy was already high at the banquet, and after the whole thing's over, he goes into his dorm and almost ODs (not on purpose, but maybe a little on purpose). his roommate finds him and his mother is called. she talks to coach rhemman about all of this, and jeremy is told that he needs to go to mandatory therapy sessions if he wants to stay on the team, so he does (alternatively, this therapy is court-mandated as a condition of assault charges against him being dropped, but i like this one more). it takes him a while to find a therapist that sticks (the first few focused on his self-destructive and violent tendencies) (the last one focused on his guilt and grief) (and chronic depression LET ME HAVE THIS)

family: - bryson: blames him for their brother being sent away and does NOT let him forget it - annalise: also blames him, but with less vitriol - his mother: also blames him, but also knows he blames himself. she isn't very good to him (i don't think she was present much when he was younger either) but worries about losing him

eventually, jeremy reshapes his entire personality into someone who's there for whoever needs him, whenever they need him. he's the one person everyone knows they can trust with no strings attached, and there is no universe in which he could be anyone's villain

[k-nayee]

Like Father, Like Hellspawn Deadpool i

wc: 3.6k a/n: soooo I got a little inspired by Eleanor Camacho aka (Earth-616) Deadpool's daughter 👉🏾👈🏾 hope ya likely☺️

Traveler M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

You stand still in front of the memorial, arms crossed tightly over your chest, fingers digging into the thick red-and-black fabric of his suit. Well, not exactly.

It’s yours now; tailored to fit your frame, stitched up more times than you can count. But it’s identical to his in every way that matters.

The mask is already on, the lenses hiding your eyes, but you swear if you weren’t wearing it you’d probably look like a kicked puppy right now.

(Not the aesthetic you’re going for really.)

The room is quiet. Too quiet.

It’s the kind of silence that wraps around you like a weighted blanket, but instead of comfort it’s suffocating—pressing down and making it hard to breathe.

But then again maybe that’s just you.

Your gaze locks onto the suit hanging on the mannequin. A perfect, untouched replica of what you’re wearing now. The fabric is pristine, the colors vibrant, and the mask—God the mask—stares back at you, hollow and empty.

Just an empty shell meant to honor someone who used to be here but isn’t anymore. (Because he's dead. Duh.)

Your fingers tighten around the worn edges of his mask—your mask now. The piece that still smells like gunpowder and...is that a hint of chimichanga grease? You wouldn’t be surprised. The guy could find a way to snack in the middle of a fistfight.

It’s been years since you lost him.

Since your Wade Wilson—your father, your mentor, your occasional bad influence but with good intentions—left you behind in Earth-617.

A framed photo hangs above the suit. You know that image by heart: Your dad giving the camera a peace-sign in front of a completely unnecessary explosion, his mask pulled up just enough to show his stupid lopsided grin.

You’d snapped that picture yourself, back when things were still good. Back when he was still alive.

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

You never really stopped missing him. Even after taking up his mantle. Even after convincing the world that you were nothing more than a simple storeowner-slash-businesswoman, all while secretly doing what he did best—kicking ass and saying jokes at wildly inappropriate moments.

Hell you even had a thing going with Spider-Man for a while. Oh God. If your dad had been alive for that one...

You exhale, shaking your head at the thought. Wade would have been jealous, and not just in the “you stole my bro” kind of way.

No he’d be throwing a full-on tantrum because you—his own flesh and blood—got to go on date-night web swings and crime-fighting rendezvous with Spidey. He’d have demanded details.

You smile at that. A real one. The kind that doesn’t last long before reality sets back in.

Because Wade’s not here. He never will be. No matter how many mercenary gigs you take or how many people you save—there’s still that gaping hole inside of you where he used to be.

None of it filled the void.

Which is where the shiny, probably unstable, possibly explodey Dimensional Warp Generator comes in. You look at the clunky questionably wired contraption humming behind you.

Its design is...questionable at best.

The thing looks like a cross between a busted washing machine and an overworked coffee maker, but according to the stolen blueprints it should technically work.

Hopefully.

Probably.

Maybe.

"Okay so best-case scenario: I step on, press the button and BAM—multiversal road trip baby!" You gesture dramatically, speaking to no one but the memorial and the ghost of your own questionable decisions. "Worst case scenario: I get turned into a fine red mist. Meat confetti if you will." You pause. "Or maybe I just end up in some dimension where everyone is a sentient toenail. Ew."

The mannequin doesn’t respond. Obviously.

You know it’s a gamble. A one-way trip. A ticket to somewhere, anywhere Wade Wilson is still breathing. The multiverse is full of infinite versions of him after all.

Maybe you’ll find one that never lost his healing factor.

Maybe you’ll find one who retired and opened a taco truck, living his best chimichanga-filled life.

Or maybe you’ll land in a world where he never had a kid at all...where he never even knew you existed.

Would that be worse?

You don’t know.

But what you do know is that standing here filled with 'what ifs' feels worse than any multiversal mishap could ever be.

So, you made your peace. You left instructions and planned for it all. Your family business? Taken care of. Your assets? Secured. Your people? Safe. You made sure of it before you even considered pushing this far.

Because if it works...

If it actually works...

You’ll see him again.

Not your Wade—no. He’s gone. But a Wade. 

You sigh, shaking your head as you let your fingers trail lightly over his display suit. It feels wrong that it’s here. Because Wade Wilson was never meant to be preserved like some historical artifact.

He was meant to be alive—chaotic, reckless, cracking wise even when everything was going to shit. So maybe...just maybe...if you find another version of him you can make sure he stays that way.

You don’t care about changing events. You don’t care about destiny or timelines or multiversal consequences. This isn’t about that. This is about you.

And what matters to you is that he exists somewhere. Somewhere you can see him again. Where you can hear his voice. Where you can fight side by side. Where you can...

You swallow hard.

Where you can patch up the hole in your chest just a little bit.

You roll your shoulders, exhaling a slow breath through your mask. Then, because old habits die hard, you give the photo on the wall a lazy finger gun. "Well Dad...guess I’m about to make the most irresponsible decision of my career. You’d be so proud."

Then, because you have to, because it wouldn't be right not to, turn to the mannequin and slap its ass.

"Good game," you say, nodding in solemn approval.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Right. Time to go.

You turn and walk toward the generator, boots thudding softly against the concrete floor. Your heartbeat picks up, an anxious drumbeat in your ears, but your hands stay steady as they hover over the big suspiciously red button.

This is it.

This is the moment.

With one last deep breath, you press down.

The machine roars to life. Lights flicker wildly, the air crackling with static. The world itself seems to shudder and twist at the edges of your vision.

"Geronimo motherfu—"

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The world comes back in pieces.

For a second—maybe longer, maybe shorter—there's nothing. No sound, no sensation. Just empty darkness that wraps around you like a suffocating blanket.

Then suddenly—

Your body lurches forward as reality slams back into place.

A rush of cool air bites through your suit, your boots scrape against concrete, and the dull hum of a city fills your ears. The scent of exhaust, street food, and something vaguely unpleasant—sewage?—hits your nose.

You blink as you try to steady yourself.

The world is intact. Not torn apart, not an apocalyptic wasteland. Normal.

Which is...weird.

You were prepared for something worse. A wrong world maybe. Something out of sync, a reality where everything was twisted just enough to feel unnatural. But this? This just looks like...

Home.

Except it isn’t.

Your muscles stay tense, fingers twitching slightly at your sides. The city looks familiar—too familiar. A near-identical match to the one you left behind, yet it isn’t yours. You can feel it deep in your bones, the way the air hums just a little differently.

You’re here....wherever here is.

A flicker of movement catches your eye. You turn your head slightly, noticing the large glass windows of a bank to your right. The reflection stares back at you.

Red and black.

The Deadpool suit—your suit—fits snug against your body, every stitch and fold in place. A mirror image of the one your father used to wear save for the minor adjustments that made it yours.

Then—

REEEEEEEEEEE

A sharp shrill alarm slices through the air, shattering the illusion of calm like a bullet through glass. Your head snaps to the source—the bank's heavy doors swing open as men in ski masks stumble out, their arms weighed down with overstuffed duffel bags.

You blink.

Oh. Well that’s convenient.

Their frantic adrenaline-fueled energy shifts the second they see you. They freeze, eyes widening beneath their masks. You can practically hear their thoughts scrambling like rats in a sinking ship.

They stare.

You stare back.

For a long awkward beat nobody moves.

Then one of them shouts something—probably a curse—his wide eyes locked onto you like he’s just seen a ghost. The others panic, some reaching for weapons, some just freezing like deer in headlights.

But then their eyes actually see you. The curves..the way your body fills out the suit differently.

"Oh shit wait...it’s a chick."

The tension visibly loosens. The men relax, confusion overriding fear, realization settling in. You can feel the shift in the air.

You tilt your head. "Wow. Sexism and crime? Y’all are multitaskers—love that. But hey before we go any further—uh...did any of you happen to rob a father figure along with that bank? Maybe a guy, about yay high, real talkative, looks like a diseased avocado? Asking for...me."

They don’t get the chance to answer.

The sharp screech of tires cuts through the moment. A police cruiser skids to a stop just feet away. Two officers leap out, hands on their guns, voices sharp. "Stop! Put your hands where I can see—"

You sigh dramatically. "You cops always ruin the moment. Like seriously, we were having a thing here. And now it’s all guns and arrest warrants."

They weren't listening. One of them reaches for his radio. “We’ve got a situation here down at the bank wit—”

BANG

A bullet tears through his skull before he can finish the sentence.

The second officer barely has time to react before a blade pierces her throat, slicing cleanly before you yank it free. She chokes, gurgles, then crumples like a puppet with its strings cut.

You wipe a bit of blood off your arm, flicking it onto the ground like it’s nothing more than an inconvenience.

Ugh. Police blood. The worst kind.

As you stand up, you hear a low rasp leaving the officer as blood pools out her mouth. "Deadpool..."

You perk up.

Bingo.

So he does exist here.

Your fingers flex, heart pounding as your mask hides the slow wicked grin stretching across your lips.

Well...

That makes things easier.

Before you could say another word—

More sirens. More cops, pulling up fast.

The robbers panicked. Shouts leave them as their loaded guns suddenly became shaky. They weren’t ready.

But you were.

The moment the cops the slammed open their doors with raised weapons you moved.

And oh did you move.

You weren’t just fast. You were precise.

Every step, every motion, every flick of your wrist was calculated. The first officer barely took a step before you immediately fired three shots—knee, shoulder, wrist.

Two other officers went down before their fingers even tightened on their triggers.

You pivoted low and swept a leg out—an officer hit the street, head cracking against concrete as you relieved him of his gun and smoothly tossed it into the air, catching it in a backward grip as you fired behind you—

BANG

Another officer. Another down.

They kept coming. You welcomed it.

The world blurred into sharp adrenaline-fueled focus. Bullets zipped past your head, but your body moved on its own, your enhanced cognition picking up details faster than they could react.

A cop adjusting her stance—she’s aiming for your ribs. A twitch of a finger—someone’s about to fire. A shift in balance—someone’s going for their radio.

Nope. No ma'am. Not today.

Your guns clicked empty. Doesn’t matter. You threw one with perfect accuracy—CRACK. It slammed into an officer’s temple knocking her out cold. The other?

You flipped in your grip, grabbed the barrel, and used it to bludgeon another into unconsciousness before spinning and delivering a brutal elbow to the last one standing.

A dozen officers. All neutralized in less than ninety seconds.

It was messy. It was brutal. It was quick.

And it was fun.

"Alright boys," You turn back to the robbers, a new glint in your eyes as you sheath your katana and gun. "Change of plans. I was gonna spend the next however-many-months hunting my old man down, but honestly? That sounds exhausting. So instead—" You throw an arm around the nearest criminal, pulling him in. "—how ‘bout I just do crimes until he finds me?"

They exchange hesitant glances.

You can see the skepticism. The weighing of pros and cons. The uncertainty of letting some Deadpool knockoff join their ranks.

Then you sigh and make the decision for them.

With an almost lazy kind of efficiency, you move—disarming, subduing, killing one just for fun. Within seconds the ones left standing know better than to say no.

"Okay okay you can join!" he wheezes, clutching his newly dislocated shoulder. "Damn lady what’s your deal?! You tryna be Deadpool’s copycat or something?"

You grin beneath your mask.

"Oh honey," you coo, "I'm so much worse."

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

Turns out they weren’t just bank robbers.

This wasn’t just a handful of small-time criminals looking for a quick payday—it was an entire crime organization clawing its way up the underworld ranks.

And with you in their arsenal, business was booming.

Crime sprees ran rampant. It wasn’t long before your exploits—masked, bloodstained, and unapologetically violent—became the subject of city-wide gossip.

Tabloids screamed about Deadpool’s sudden change.

You loved it.

Scrolling through online gossip forums was your new favorite pastime, watching people spiral into conspiracy theories:

"DEADPOOL MIND-CONTROLLED?"

"DEADPOOL GOING THROUGH HIS VILLAIN ERA™️?"

"DEADPOOL TIRED OF THE HERO CHARADE?” Some people swore it wasn’t him—“DEADPOOL...SHORTER?!”

Others didn’t care. To the world you were Deadpool. You’d made sure of that, hiding your figure under a long trench coat, avoiding any direct combat with Wade’s team whenever they did get involved in your organization’s little...projects.

You were a ghost. A rumor. A nightmare with guns.

And Wade? He was pissed.

You’d seen the interviews, the tirades he’d gone on during what should’ve been simple bounty jobs. Wade Wilson, the Deadpool, losing his shit on camera about some asshole using his name and ruining his “hard-earned” reputation.

(As if he ever fixed it in the first place? Please.)

You laughed every time. It was almost too easy.

Shame you couldn't use your own phone to watch it all—unable to connect to this world’s satellites (frequency issues, because of course) so you had to acquire other means. Luckily criminals have great taste in stolen electronics.

Speaking of criminals, seems you’d made yourself too valuable to the organization to get thrown out. The boss—a greasy smooth-talking bastard named Salvatore "Sal" DeLuca—liked results, and you brought them.

But there was one rule you made clear the moment you took the job: Nobody mentions your gender.

And if they ever had to refer to you, they called you Deadpool.

Sal agreed without hesitation. He was good at playing the long game and you were the biggest wildcard he had in his deck. His men though? They whispered....wondered.

But the rule was ironclad; if they let slip that Deadpool was anything other than what you projected—they disappeared. Simple as that.

And so, for three months, it worked.

Until her.

You’d been watching her for some time.

A new recruit—quiet, kept to herself. Didn’t quite fit the mold of a career criminal.

You noticed her immediately.

Maybe it was the way she held herself, too rigid and restrained. Maybe it was the way she avoided eye contact when people talked about bigger plans. Or maybe it was just instinct.

So you bugged her. Literally. Tiny discreet surveillance planted in her things, her living space, her routine. And what do you know?

You were right. She was a full-blown informant. A mole who worked for the police.

Correction: she worked for Wade’s team. And her name was Yukio.

You could’ve exposed her. You could've warned Sal. But you didn’t. Because this?

This was what you’d been waiting for.

.*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

A deal.

A simple trade-off of drugs, weapons, and money. The usual.

The warehouse was dimly lit, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the sharp tang of cheap cologne. Low voices murmured across the space from dealers to the occasional trigger-happy lackey trying to prove himself.

You didn’t care.

Lounging lazily in a rickety chair nearby, your legs were kicked up up on a table littered with money and gun magazines, eyes glued to your real priority: beating the final boss in Pokémon.

The Nintendo 3DS glowed faintly in your hands. (You’d robbed a nerd for this. He cried. It was great.) Its tiny speakers crackled with the upbeat jingle—stark and ridiculous contrast to the hard-edged criminals around you.

They often looked to you for some kind of assurance, that everything was going smoothly. But you weren’t their leader. You were just the guarantee.

The insurance that ensured the deal went well—because if it didn’t, nobody walked out.

And you were bored.

Yukio stood nearby, hands tucked into her sleeves with an unreadable expression. She was small and unassuming. Harmless to most eyes.

But not to you.

You knew what she was. Who she was. And that meant this deal wasn’t going to finish.

Just as you were about to land the final hit to the boss—

BOOM

The front doors detonated inward, a shockwave of dust and debris sweeping through the warehouse like a tidal wave.

The rival gang didn’t even have time to react.

Bullets ripped through them, splattering red against the walls before most even reached for their weapons. The few that did weren’t fast enough—a streak of yellow and black tore through their ranks like a living razor blade.

Logan.

The Wolverine’s claws sang through the air, slicing through flesh and bone with gruesome efficiency. A man screamed was cut short as his head separated cleanly from his shoulders and rolled to the floor with a wet thud.

Yukio moved the second the attack began.

One moment she was among your men. The next her hand sparked with electricity and she tore into them like a ghost of lightning.

The criminals you had worked beside for months were dying.

And you?

You didn’t move.

In fact you barely heard the scrambling panic around you. Your grip on the 3DS went slack, it tumbled to the ground, clattering loudly. You didn’t even notice.

Because he was here.

Deadpool...

Your father

He stood there at the center of the chaos; twin pistols raised, blades strapped to his back, mask tilted just slightly in that familiar cocky way.

The exact same mask as yours.

Your pulse spiked. You should’ve done something—anything—but you couldn’t move.

The mask...the stance....the voice.

God the voice.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Wade bellowed as he shot through a particularly unlucky gangster. “For years—YEARS—I have been trying become a better, CLASSY respectable mercenary!!”

(He absolutely did not.)

“Yet somehow, someway some ASSHOLE decides to drag my name through blood-soaked crime-encrusted filth like we’re in some goddamn GTA roleplay server?!” His arms flailed wildly as he stomped forward, stepping over a twitching half-dead body without a second glance.

“DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY DEATH THREATS I’VE GOTTEN THIS WEEK?!”

(As if that wasn’t normal for him.)

Everything around you had blurred at this point. The violence didn’t matter. The screaming didn’t matter. The years of grief and loss and loneliness—

None of it mattered.

“—and what really gets me—truly grinds my gears—is that some DICKHEAD is using my likeness to make me look bad when I’ve worked so hard to be good! I HAVE A BRAND TO UPHOLD!”

Sal was hissing something at you to snap you out of it. Hell all of the men in the entire organization were looking at you. Because for the first time in three months, you weren’t moving.

“WELL??” Deadpool’s rant came to an abrupt end as he threw his arms out. “What do you have to say for yourself?!”

Silence.

Then—

You stood up.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

The chair scraped against the concrete floor as you pushed away from it, the tension so thick it could suffocate.

Your hands came together and you began clapping.

One slow clap.

Another.

Then faster until it built into an exaggerated standing ovation. "Wow." Your voice dripped with emotion. "I..am speechless. A performance worthy of the Oscars really. I truly have no words except—"

Before anyone could react, you drew both guns in a single fluid motion and opened fire.

BANG

The first gunshot took Sal’s head clean off. His body was still standing, nerves firing uselessly even as his brain matter sprayed across the crates behind him.

BANG BANG BANG

Bullets fly and bodies drop.

The remaining rival gang? Erased.

Your so-called allies? Wiped off the map.

Some ducked for cover. Some tried to run. None of them made it far. You moved through them like a force of nature; spinning between targets, every shot landing with surgical precision.

Deadpool’s team flinched. For a split second they genuinely believed you were about to shoot at them.

Instead?

You erased every last member of the organization—the very one you had helped build up for weeks—in a perfectly executed, single-handed massacre.

The only sound left was the ringing echo of gunfire.

Your guns clicked as you brought the smoking barrels to your face to inhale the scent like it was oxygen. "Oh yeah, that's the good stuff..."

Finally holstering your weapons, you turned to Deadpool with a grin beneath your mask. A mask that was a perfect mirror image of his.

You practically bounced over to him as casual as someone greeting an old friend.

Then, in the most cheerful, sing-song voice imaginable, you threw your hands up your hands like a child and chirped—

"HI DADDY!!"