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onlyhereforthestories · 1 month ago

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Tell Me Some Things Last (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Sorry I didn't get this out yesterday! Hope you enjoy 😊

Take my mind take my pain like an empty bottle takes the rain and heal

Pain. That’s all you could feel, pain. And not even physical pain, it’s the kind of pain that consumes your mind and leaves you empty. When they said break ups could literally bring you to your knees you didn’t realise how true they were. Christen had literally just torn you to pieces without much more thought than “It’s just not what I want anymore y/n.” You wished you could say you saw it coming you really did but you didn’t. Up until the words came out of her mouth you thought you were both happy.

You didn’t have anywhere to go; the weather was damp and dark, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You sat on a bench in a park not far from your now ex’s apartment soaking in the rain as it fell. You wanted nothing more for this pain to stop, to fade into the background so you could breathe again. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop or fade it just sat there on your chest like it never wanted to leave.

You weren’t sure how long passed but you knew it was a significantly long period of time, the night had settled in, and the clouds had grown stormier. When the crack of thunder started was when you got up to leave, you were already soaked to the bone and shaking, not that you really cared. A fleeting thought that scared you to your core, that closed off mindless feeling was something you didn’t want to fall back into.

But you were, you could feel it.

Take my past and take my sins, like an empty sail takes the wind and heal

6 months passed pretty quickly after Christen broke up with you, when you go through the days on autopilot its quite easy to get swept along without a care. You woke up, ate breakfast, had training, ate lunch, had strength sessions and then went home to have dinner and sleep before repeating it again.

Game days were the hardest for you, it was the main time you had to interact with her. Goals were celebrated and team huddles were a thing that you couldn’t avoid like at training. You were pretty stoic on the field anyway, so your current wall wasn’t too different to your game face which meant that the fans didn’t really pick up on your change in mood and behaviour. You were playing each game as a means to the end now, you had put in to be transferred as soon as the breakup had happened, and you had found out that you had gotten a few offers yesterday in a meeting with your manager.

You had yet to find out who the offers were from, but you were just happy to be getting away from the current climate you were a part of. You really wanted to leave the past where it is now, you wanted to get out of here and never look back. You hoped with everything you were that leaving here, leaving all this in the past would help you move on from her. That it would help you heal.

And tell me some things last

It was your final game, no one knew it yet, but you did. It was the first time you had felt joy going into a game and you wanted to leave the fans with something to remember you by. They were always so supportive and if it weren’t for Christen and the situation with her you wouldn’t be leaving them.

Football has been all you’ve had in the last 4 month; it has been the only constant and the fans had given you the push you needed to keep going. You knew football would always be something that lasts for you.

And tell me some things last

You won the game; you had scored a goal too just to top it off. You were doing a slow lap of the pitch interacting with as many fans as you could and signing everything possible. You had lost your top and your cleats along the way not that you cared, you wouldn’t need the jersey anyway. You didn’t want to keep it; you didn’t want to remember they end of your time at this club you just wanted to move on.

You were nearing the tunnel when a young girl called your name, she had a shirt with your name on in her hands and she was bouncing on her toes as you made eye contact with her. you headed in her direction and signed her shirt, she asked for a photo so you hooked your hands under her arms and placed her on your hip so her guardians could snap the photo. You were chatting to her about the game and where she plays when she caught you off guard, “Where are you leaving to?”

You stood shocked with the girl who could only have been 7 sitting looking at you, none of your teammates had picked up on your slight change in behaviour or your hesitation to leave the field but this little girl had. They do say kids pick up on everything. “How do you know I won’t be playing here anymore?” You gave her a little tickle to let her know she wasn’t in trouble for asking.

“You have stayed out here with us for so long, that normally only happens when someone is saying goodbye without actually saying it.” you shook your head slightly with a smile and gave the girl a squeeze.

You walked her back over to where she watched the game and handed her back, just before you gave her back you whispered in her ear. “Don’t tell anyone but you will see me in Spain next season.” You pulled back with a small wink and watched as the little girl beamed at you wishing you luck and telling you hopefully, she’ll be able to see you play again soon.

You quickly got who you found out to be her aunt’s email so you could make sure that you could make that come true for the girl.

Take my heart and take my hand like an ocean takes the dirty sands and heal

Barcelona had been good for you the moment your plane landed on the tarmac, the sun shining down on you making your body feel warm for probably the first time in 6 months. You had 2 weeks to settle in and explore the city before preseason started and you would have to get used to being a teammate again.

You spent the 2 weeks being a tourist and learning some of the language, you went to all the spots you got told were tourist traps, you tried loads of different local foods and explored the coffee shops around your apartment.

Before you knew it you were putting on your training kit and getting ready to be introduced as the latest member of the Culers. You had just done all your management stuff like contracts and photos with the president which meant you were meeting the team a little into their training session.

You walked out into the sunshine and strolled up to Jona on the side lines. He shook your hand and called all the girls in to introduce you, which you did before he could. “Hola chicas, I’m y/n and I am honoured to get to play alongside you for the next hopefully few seasons. I am sorry about my lack of Spanish I am working on it but for now bear with me.”

You looked round the group of smiling women, you recognised pretty much all of them, but you made a mental note to make sure you interact with Keira, Lucy and Frida as you knew they spoke your native language. What shocked you was your reaction to locking eyes with beautiful brown ones that held such a soft look towards you. You could feel your body tingle with something you haven’t felt in a long time and that was really scary.

Alexia stepped towards you to introduce herself properly, taking her captain duties properly as well as the fact that she felt a pull towards you. She reached out and took your hand in a soft handshake as she welcomed you to her hometown club.

Take my mind take my pain like an empty bottle takes the rain and heal

You had been playing in Barcelona for 6 months now, and you could quite honestly say it had been the best 6 months of not only your life but your career too. Everything just felt right, you were playing the best you ever had, you worked well with everyone on the team, and you weren’t missing your old life.

What was holding you back was your past, more specifically the pain you still felt lingering in your heart when you saw Christen and Tobin’s relationship plastered over the internet. You weren’t jealous, you really weren’t, you had not loved Christen for a long while now. The pain was caused by the fact that you never let yourself talk about what happened, never found out what you did to make Christen not love you anymore.

You had been pretty good at keeping your mind off of it when you were with the team until today. You found yourself alone in the changing rooms after a pretty long training day or so you thought, you heard muffled voices coming from the toilets and picked up on Frida’s voice. You had no idea who she was talking too, and you were going to pick up your stuff and leave unit you heard the name you had been avoiding.

“Have you seen Christen and Tobin’s post. I really admire them for the way they have slowly introduced their relationship to the world without actually announcing it. it makes you wonder how long they have been together doesn’t it…” You stopped listening after that, the sentence piercing your heart. You grabbed your stuff and bolted to the door; you could feel the tears starting to fall before you could even get out of the changing rooms. As you pushed at the door it was pulled from the other side and you almost ran into Alexia. She managed to catch your shoulders with her hands before you could topple the both of you over, she went to speak but stopped as soon as you looked up at her.

The sight broke her heart, you looked so broken. Without saying anything she whipped the tears from your face and reached for your hand, which you let her do and followed behind her as she dragged you out of the facility and into her car.

You stared out the window as she drove, you weren’t sure where you were going but at this moment you didn’t care. You just wanted to get away from any talk of your ex and her perfect relationship.

When Alexia pulled the car up and got out you were slightly confused, you could see the beach from the car window, and you felt the weight on your chest already starting to lift. You were so caught up in your thoughts that Alexia got to your car door before you could even think about opening it.

“Come on let go walk.” She holds out her hand in front of you and you didn’t hesitate to take it. She pulled you out of the car and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go and walking towards the crashing waves.

The two of you walked side by side for about 20 minutes before you spoke up. “Christen is my ex, she wasn’t with Tobin a year ago she was with me, or so I think. She broke up with me because she just didn’t feel anything for me anymore, like you can just suddenly not love someone. I haven’t spoken about this with anyone because we never told anyone outside her family, she didn’t want to. Maybe that should have been my first warning sign. Looking back on it now, I know it wasn’t a relationship that was going to last, but I still gave her my all and I have no idea what I did wrong. What I did for her to not love me, for it not to last.”

Alexia let you speak; she waited as you paused to think about the next thing you wanted to say and then continued to listen when you carried on speaking. She sat down next to you when you took a seat after you’d said all you needed to say, and she just sat there while you processed it all. After about 10 minutes of silently listening to the waves you turned to the slightly older woman, “Thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” The reply made your lips quirk up, of course she plays down her importance in this current moment.

“I have everything to thank you for. You have listened to me spill my shit, you have taken time out of your day to take me away from the situation earlier without a thought or knowing why I wasn’t okay. And you haven’t left, you’ve stayed.” You reached out and grabbed her hand hoping to get her to really listen to how thankful you are for her right now.

She moved her hand around a littler to interlace your fingers. “I would do a lot for you and that is all I’m going to say for now. But just know that there is more to that statement and that when you are ready, I will tell you.” You could feel your cheeks heating up. You knew your attraction to the Spanish superstar was there but having that conversation right after crying over an ex probably wasn’t the best idea. No matter how over that woman you were.

You sat on the beach with the woman you were sure would be a major part of your future for a little while longer, soaking in the setting sun hand in hand until the time came for her to take you home.

And tell me some things last

The Champions League quarter final second leg was fast approaching, and you were nervous. You had played at the Camp Nou stadium a few times now but this game you felt those added nervous of such a big crowd. The first leg hadn’t quite gone as you had all hoped and that meant that there was a less confident energy going into this one.

You were also nervous because your special guests were coming today, you had managed to arrange for Lyla the little girl from your final game at your previous club to be here today. You had even managed to get her to be a mascot too which you had to thank Alexia for, she was the main one to ask the organisers. You had been in contact with her aunt all day and so you knew that she was here and ready to go being as the game was due to start any moment and you needed to walk out.

You walked out of the changing room last like always, head down and mind focused until you heard the excited squeal of your name, “Y/n, Y/n I missed you.” Before you could even think the slightly taller than the last time you saw her girl was throwing herself at you. You managed to catch her under the arms and swing her up onto your hip as you returned the sentiment.

You spoke to her for a small second whilst the rest of the team got ready and waited for the ref’s signal to walk onto the pitch. What you didn’t see was the way Alexia was looking back at you and your interaction with the girl you had flown half a world to see you.

The game had gone pretty much perfectly this time, the only annoyance being that you couldn’t keep a clean sheet. You were walking along clapping the fans with Lucy and Keira when you saw Lyla jumping and waving your way from her place with her aunt, you were quick to excuse yourself and head over.

“Hola chica.” You sent her a little wink at your use of your currents homes language which had the girl giggling “how did you enjoy the game? Pretty cool stadium, right?”

The girls toothy grin and vigorous head nod started her positive answer. “Si.” You cut her off a little with a laugh of your own at that answer. “It was so good; I have never been to a place this big! And you play amazing. You really like it here, don’t you?”

Instead of talking up to her over the barrier you signalled to her aunt to make sure it was okay to get her down on the pitch with you. When you got permission, her aunt helped you get her down and said to go have fun, you told her you’d bring her back in a little while. Grabbing her hand, you dragged her along with you as you listened to all she wanted to say about the game. “… Watching Alexia in person was super cool too. She is soooooo good.” You couldn’t help but agree with the girl, she was something else on the pitch.

“Would you like to come meet some of the girls?” The nod you got in return was again vigorous and so you tugged her in the direction of where you had left Lucy and Keira not even 5 minutes ago.

After introducing Lyla to most of the team there was one final person left. Alexia had been on media duty so you could only hope she would be done and in the changing room for you to introduce Lyla to. You quickly ran over to her aunt to make sure she knew where you were going before leading the small girl through the tunnel.

You poked your head into the training room to find the woman you were looking for in a state of dress that had your heartbeat spiking. Swallowing quickly and blinking a few times to make sure you weren’t dreaming, you averted your eyes slightly and spoke, “Hey Ale I have someone that wants to meet you is that okay?” Alexia’s head whipped round at your voice, and you saw the blush rise up her cheeks as she realised you were seeing her in her sports bra. Not that this was the first time, but it was on your (well pretty much) own and after the beach.

You stepped back into the hall when she told you she would love to, but she just needed a second and waited for her to be ready. Before you could even start a conversation with Lyla the door was swinging back open, and Alexia was dressed in her tracksuit. You were a little shocked when Lyla started hiding behind you a little bit as this was the person she was most excited to meet.

“Ale this is Lyla, she my favourite fan from back in the States. Lyla this is Alexia the best midfielder in the world.” Alexia bent down to Lyla’s height and kept a little space between them before she spoke to her. You spent a good 10 minutes listening to the two girls speak before the rest of the team filtered into the changing room cutting your time short. Lyla said goodbye to the team and you along with Alexia walked her back out into the rapidly emptying crowd, those that were left cheered your names as you entered.

You slowed your pace as you got closer to letting Lyla go, you really did hate goodbyes. Alexia could see your hesitance; she couldn’t tell why you were so reluctant to let the little one go but she could tell it was really playing on you. She reached behind you and rested her hand on the middle of your back, rubbing small slow circles there as you lifted Lyla over the barrier.

After saying goodbye and getting changed you grabbed Alexia’s hand and pulled her along behind you and out to her car. Without questioning it Alexia opened it and let you settle yourself into her passenger seat while she put the bags in the back and got behind the wheel. Deciding that taking you home right now wasn’t what you needed or what she wanted she made the decision to take you back to your spot.

You were not paying attention to where the woman you cared very much about was taking you, you were just lost in your current thoughts and feelings about saying goodbye. It was only when the vehicle stopped that you realised just what the Spanish superstar had done, you were back at the beach by your spot. She didn’t wait for you to say anything just got out and came round to open your door.

You didn’t hesitate to take the hand she offered you when the door was wide open, and you slightly shocked the woman when you held on tighter when you were stood up straight. You gave her hand a squeeze and sent her a small smile that had her grinning and tugging you from your linked hands towards the shore.

You sat yourself against a rock by the shoreline and patted the open space between your legs which Alexia happily sat in, she was a little more hesitant to lean back but didn’t resist you when you lightly tugged her shoulders. The two of you sat there for a little while before you found yourself speaking.

“Thank you for earlier, I really needed the comfort of your presence there to say goodbye.” When Alexia turned her head to you with a questioning look you knew it was a subtle way to ask but also let you know you didn’t have to explain but you wanted to. “She was the last link I had to my first home; she was the final goodbye. That place was where I had my first love, where I got my career started and where all the pain came from. Pain that I think I’m finally over and healing from. Pain that I won’t now let stop me from saying I’m ready if you still are.”

You felt Alexia relax even more into you and you were incredibly happy to feel her hands snake into yours. Neither of you needed to say anything more about it right now, this moment was for basking in the possibilities and future you were about to start.

And tell me some things last

It had been about 2 weeks since you had told Alexia that you were ready to see what could happen between the two of you. Not a lot had really gone on other than an increase in the time you spent together as well as the thoughts you were having. Whenever you were with the Spanish woman you couldn’t help where your mind ran to, the kisses you imagined and the future you could really start to see coming.

So when Alexia asked you to pick her up for training on morning you were secretly hoping that meant some more time together. You pulled up outside her flat with about 20 minutes to spare so decided to go up with the coffees you had got for her. Knocking on her door you patiently waited for the woman inside to answer and when she did you were in a state of shock and awe. Alexia was stood in her sports bra and training joggers, hair tied back and signature Nike band pulling her baby hairs back and out of her face. It took you a moment to compose yourself and drag your eyes away from her exposed torso something she could not help but notice and tease you about. “Like something you see love?”

You exaggerated the wink you sent her way which had the woman full on belly laughing as she let you in and followed behind you as you made it into the kitchen. You set both cups down onto the side and spun to face the still semi dressed beauty, you mind was going a mile a minute over the sight and all you wanted to do was wrap your arms around her waist and kiss her.

Alexia could see your mind working, she could see your thoughts spinning round your head and she was so ready to hear what they were. Deciding you both had been dancing around this for long enough she took a small step towards you and asked the question she wanted the answer too. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

You snapped your eyes to lock with her gaze, a gaze that was soft and reassuring and all you needed to take that leap. “You and how much I want to kiss you right now but I don’t want to push if you aren’t ready yet I know…” you were cut off by the lips you have been dreaming about.

You wrapped your arms around the slightly older woman’s waist and pulled her closer to you, you brushed your hands up and down her sides as you deepened the kiss something that sent a shiver down Alexia’s spine and a sigh to leave her lips as you both briefly pulled back for air. You weren’t ready for this moment to be over and you wanted to commit more to memory so you lent back in and connected your lips with hers again for a slow kiss.

Alexia pulled back once air was once again needed but she didn’t go far, she rested her forehead against yours and rubbed her thumb over the base of your neck where she had her hands rested. You both just stood there in her kitchen soaking up the moment, committing it to memory and dreaming about what else was to come.

You broke the quiet moment by pressing a small peck to her lips and asking the question you have been wanting to ask for the last couple weeks. “Will you go on a proper date with me? I would like to take you out before I ask the next question I really want to ask you.” Alexia quirked her eyebrow at the cryptic nature of your question but decided to just answer the one she could and wanted to.

“Of course I will go out with you properly. There is nothing I want more.” She went to press a kiss to your lips or so you thought. You closed your eyes as she got close only to feel her press against you for a second before all the warmth of her was gone causing your eyes to spring open. She had grabbed her coffee and was walking towards her bedroom with an extra swing to her hips.

She was going to be the death of you and you both knew it.

And tell me some things last

The last few months had been amazing for you and your newfound love. Alexia had treated you to a fair few date nights and you had managed to get the woman to come over for some homecooked meals. It had been the perfect start to what you hoped would be your forever.

Alexia had excused herself from you now normal Thursday evening plans of dinner and a movie to spend some much-needed time with Mapi which you were more than okay with. It gave you the chance to spend some time with Lucy and Keira ahead of your birthday.

Your English teammates took you out to a fancy meal and drinks in one of your favourite spots in Barca. As the night drew on and the drinks flowed you felt yourself get lighter and lighter. You got to the point that you were so carefree you didn’t care who you were dancing with, nor did Lucy who was your main dance partner anyway.

At this point Keira decided it was probably best to call it a night and phoned your now girlfriend. Alexia was waiting for this phone call really; you had mentioned you were going out with the English pair and that never normally ended with anything less than you and Lucy drunk as and Keira and Alexia dealing with you both.

Alexia had just dropped the English duo to their place and was now sat with a very inebriated you at a red light. She turned to look at you as you dozed off in the passenger seat of her car. The streetlights bounced off your features in a way they had Alexia frozen, she knew that she was falling incredibly fast for you, but she didn’t realise quite how fast until that moment.

She picked up her phone quick and snapped a couple of pics of you before the light turned green and she got you home safe.

A few days later you would see that photo for the first time, and not directly from the woman herself. You woke up to breakfast in bed and sweet kisses for your birthday, you had been so distracted with the people in your life wishing you happy birthday that it took until the evening when you were getting ready for the dinner out with some teammates that Alexia had planned, that you would see the picture along with 3 others.

It was Alexia’s post, it started with a photo of you both in your Barca gear before a game, then it was of you and Nala out on a walk, then it was of you cooking some dinner in Alexia’s kitchen and the final one was the car photo. The caption was simple, Here’s to the first of many birthday celebrations.

And tell me some things last

Alexia was freaking out and you could tell she was. You had yet to speak to her about your upcoming contract issues with Barca. Which had become a more pressing issue with your initial 3 years rapidly coming to an end. She knew that talks had been happening as she is your girlfriend and the captain of the team but what she didn’t know was that you had been offered and accepted a new 5-year deal.

You had managed to get the club to not tell her before you did so that you could surprise her. Your apartment lease was up, and you hadn’t renewed, the reason for this was you were hoping to be able to move in with your now 2-year long girlfriend, not that she knew that plan just yet. You were nervous to ask such a question, but you were sure she was who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with if she would have you.

What you didn’t plan for was Alexia finding out about you not renewing your lease. You had promised Ingrid you would meet for coffee after the mornings training and Alexia had promised to meet you at yours as you would be cooking for tonight’s Thursday date night. Unfortunately, you were not aware that your landlord was due round to speak about the changing of keys when you moved out. A conversation that Alexia had now had with said person and not you.

Mapi had picked you and Ingrid up from your little outing so you had asked the pair to come up for a drink, thinking that Alexia would be happy to have some time with her best friend. However, as soon as you walked in and made eye contact with your lover you knew the invite up was the wrong thing to do.

It wasn’t just you that noticed, Ingrid saw it too. She was quick to grab Mapi and make up a hurried excuse that had the blonde defender opening and closing her mouth like a fish as she was dragged out of the apartment.

You waited to hear the click of the door shutting before you started to speak. “What’s wrong babe?” You tried to keep the nerves out of your voice, opting to move a bit closer to the older woman as you spoke too.

In the time it took for you to sit down on the sofa, the woman was up on her feet. “What do you mean what’s wrong. You know exactly what is wrong, you are leaving. You are leaving and you haven’t bothered to ask me what that does to me, to us. I didn’t even get to know let alone get to ask you to stay.” You were frozen in place, what was she talking about leaving. You weren’t leaving why would she think that, had you waited too long to tell her about the contract extension? You felt like an idiot for causing her to be this upset.

“Lo siento babe. I am not leaving. Let’s get that sorted first. I could never leave you.” You took a moment to wait for your words to register in the distressed woman’s mind. When they did, she looked at you, and the look she had in her eyes almost broke you. It was like she was pleading with her eyes for you to be telling the truth. “Come here, Lo siento mucho. I didn’t mean to cause you this much stress. I was just trying to surprise you. I should have done better here.”

Alexia did as you asked and came and sat next to you. She didn’t make any physical contact with you like she normally would, but you understood. You took that she was at least next to you and not out the door and a positive sign that this wasn’t a major fuck up. You gave her a few moments to process her thoughts as you did and waited for her to speak.

“You really aren’t leaving me?” That broke you a little bit, you shifted a little closer to the woman and gently took her hand, when she didn’t pull back you squeezed it in yours to try offer some comfort before your words could do the rest.

“No Ale I’m not. I’m staying right here with you for as long as you’ll have me.” You would happily commit the rest of your life to this woman and everyone around you knew it. You obviously hadn’t spent enough time making sure she knew it though and you made that silent vow in your head to rectify that.

“Forever por favor.” You couldn’t help but smile at her words. “But your contract with Barca, it’s almost up.” You let go of her hand to turn your whole body to face her, legs crossed on the sofa. You retook her hand and tugged a little to try and get her to look at you as you spoke.

When you finally got her to make eye contact with you, you told her your secret, “I renewed about 3 days ago, 5 years babe.” The way your favourite eyes lit up in front of you in that moment would be forever imprinted on your brain. There was just joy in them as you said this, and you couldn’t stop the feeling it brought up inside of you. You were about to continue speaking when her facial expression changed again, not to as sad as it was but to one of more confusion.

“But your landlord said you were giving the keys back at the end of the month.” You couldn’t help but smile at that, of course Alexia wasn’t quite following where your brain was hoping.

“I am yes. There is only one place I want to live.” The puzzled look stayed on the Spanish beauties face. A fact that had you full on laughing out loud at the cluelessness of your girlfriend. Deciding that you would put her out of her misery you told her what you hoped could happen. “How would you like to live together mi amor?”

Alexia didn’t answer verbally, no she answered with every other option but that. She pretty much tackled you to the sofa, your back hit the cushions before you could even process what was happening. You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of your mouth as the woman stared peppering your face with kisses.

The joyous moment turned tender quickly after that. Alexia had one arm on the cushions next to your head to prop herself up and the other reached down to cup your cheek. “I want nothing more than you being the first thing I see in the morning and the last I see before I fall asleep.” You could feel the heat creeping up to your cheeks, it wasn’t often you got romantic Ale but when you did it never failed to turn you to mush.

Words would fail you in this moment and you knew it, so you did the next best thing. You reached up and tangled your fingers in the brunettes’ locks of your very soon-to-be house partner, pulling her down so that you could press your lips eagerly to hers in a kiss that could only be described as coming home.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine

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lovezbrownies · 5 months ago

Note

I will literally run over my dog (no I won’t I love her too much) for some more Lauren writing.

I NEED IT!!!!! 😭😭

-poopyhead🤪

Confessions after aggressions (Yan!Bully x GN!Reader.)

Hello dear poopyhead! hope you enjoy :3 this fic is almost 2.3k words! Sorry it took me a week to get this out! Blew my money on legos and I can only write when I have a drink in hand ;;

Masterlist

Synopsis: What happens when your lifetime bully who is madly in love with you catches someone trying to hit on you?

Bully Lauren McCanister x GN!Reader

WARNINGS: Bullying, verbal harassment, darling being hit on by a third party, threats, physical fight kinda!, darling's scared of Lauren, Lauren goes off, Lauren kisses darling without consent smh Lauren, fuck used a lot, degrading words against women used by Lauren, again smh Lauren, mildly cute at the end, No use of y/n

“Hey, if you don’t come to my game today I’ll make sure you regret it, and wear this. And you better fucking wear it. Either wear it once today or I’ll force it on you this entire month. Fucking weirdo.”

And that’s how you found yourself in this situation, out in the cold night, wearing your bully's jersey jacket she insists you wear, and watching that same bully carry her team to a win. It’s been going on for a while, you don’t know what the rules of football are, and you’ve never really been into many sports. Sure maybe you’ve watched a few games or liked a certain team but you never truly got into it, and you don’t think you ever will.

Lauren reserved you a seat at the very front of the school’s stadium, next to the team’s benches or whatever they call them. So whenever there’s a pause to the game Lauren can easily go up to the benches, rest, and talk with you. More like constantly begging you for praise.

“Look at that, the loser came, what did you think? Obviously, you thought I was cool, right? Well, that’s a no-brainer, you don’t know anything about football so you’d think anything I did was cool. Oh, you’re such a fucking freak! You want me so bad it makes you look stupid! You were staring at me sweating and heaving the entire time right you, weirdo?”

It’s always the same, she’s been participating in more sports lately since it’s her senior year but it was torture to attend every game of hers so she doesn’t give you hell later on. Lauren’s games never ceased to bore you, constantly watching her carry her team to a win every single damn game gets tiring fast. And if you dare look away to entertain yourself Lauren will purposefully fumble the game just so she can confront you for not paying attention to her faster.

So when Lauren finally had the chance to take a break and take a sip from her water bottle you told her you’d be going to the bathroom, and her one response was “Don’t take too long.” Thank heavens. You couldn’t hold it anymore, and again if you left without telling her she would leave the field herself and chase after you, her team either winning by an inch or losing wholeheartedly.

Along the way, you saw many people skirt away from the stadium's seats to get food, and beverages, or to go to the bathroom. It was half-time, or whatever they call their little break, after all. You felt someone watch you as you walked to the bathrooms, but every time you looked around there wasn’t a single person looking in your direction, though your guts told you not to, you brushed it off and continued heading towards the gender-neutral bathroom the school’s stadium has. They mostly made it to save costs on individual bathrooms for specific genders.

You finished with your business in the stall, the moment you stepped out of said stall however a tall woman wearing the rival school’s merch stood right in front of you, blocking the way and effectively stopping you from moving anywhere.

You look up at the woman, she looks about your age with brown hair and eyes, nothing of note in her appearance. She looked down at you, smirking as if she were an almighty god. You raise a brow, trying to seem as uninterested as possible, to avoid giving her the wrong idea, “Can I help you?” Somehow the woman’s cocky smirk only widened as she reached a hand out to you, going out to grab your face.

“Was watchin’ ya earlier, wanted to ask if you’re singl-” Just as her hand grazed your chin you harshly slapped it away, grabbing a few people’s attention but no one wanted to anger the tall brunette. Yet the woman seemed to take your slap as an invitation, moving even closer almost pushing you back into the stall. And move back you did, trapping you with the woman in the cramped stall, with your legs pressing harshly onto the toilet seat and the woman’s arms reaching out to the stall’s walls.

She smiled so wide it resembled a horror character, her eyes filled with lust, the woman leaned down towards you, she was drunk you could tell from the overwhelming smell of her breath, “Hey! Back off! Get the fuck away from me!” You pushed and pushed as much as you could but that only enticed her, “Nah, need a cutie like you to hang off ma arm~”

Just then the smell of alcohol and sweat disappeared and a loud crash was heard, “YOU GOT A DEATH WISH FRESHMAN?!?!” Is that Lauren? Oh, that definitely is Lauren, You peek out the stall to find the woman lying on the floor, looking up at Lauren, face full of fear, “Who the fuck are yo-” The lady couldn’t even finish her sentence as Lauren grabbed her by the hair, easily lifting the woman off the floor just by pulling at the hair of her scalp.

You couldn’t predict what had happened then, you heard Lauren threaten the woman, cussing her out in the most colorful ways with a low voice, “I’m going to fucking end your life, you fucking dickwad. You are nothing but a pile of shit compared to my baby, you don’t touch my sweetheart and think you can get away with it, fucking slut! You will pay for what you did. Keep one eye open when you’re sleeping, you dirty whore!” And much more that you missed. Lauren looked beyond angry, she looked like a feral rabid dog.

It was completely horrifying to witness the unbridled rage of Lauren McCanister. Your entire life you thought you’d been the only one to be relentlessly bullied by her, the only one who truly witnessed how insane she can get. But you were entirely incorrect, watching how tight Lauren’s grip is with the woman’s hair, how she yelled and spit on the woman, how she harshly pushed the woman against the floor, a loud crack came from the woman’s head making you cringe from how painful it sounded.

Lauren shifted her head towards you, staring at you like she was a predator in a horror movie before swiftly moving to you, taking two long strides to finally reach you, grabbing your hand she growled, “Good fucking thing you’re smart enough not to accept her shit. Else I’d make sure you never think of another woman ever again. Let’s get out of here, this place is full of morons anyway.” Lauren, with no regard to your own personal wishes, proceeded to pull you out of the bathrooms, people stared at the both of you as she led you to the underground car park.

You could barely breathe, fearful of what the monster would do to you. Will she hurt you? Are you done for? Should you quickly send a text to everyone you love? Was all that studying in vain? Are you already dead? Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of a cushy seat beneath you, the sound of a car door slamming, and then the roar of a car engine. Snapping out of your daydreams you look to the side, at Lauren. She still looked furious, though calmer than before. She was still muttering under her breath, her hands gripped at the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were entirely white.

“...ng loser, fucking idiot, fucking whore… Going after what’s mine? I’ll show her… my poor baby…” McCanister wouldn’t stop muttering, and you couldn’t stop shaking, she then drove the car off, you have no clue where you’re going. Maybe she’s already dug up your grave? Today really is your last day as a living person, maybe you can haunt this asshole in the afterlife? If there is one at least. It hit you that she will make sure you'll be in pain when she does kill you, there is no quick and painless with Lauren, only slow and torturous.

Suddenly you flinch at the hand that had grabbed your thigh, damn near screaming out in fear, “The fuck are you shivering for? Did that hillbilly bitch scare you that bad? God damn, I’m going to kill her for doing all that to you, my angel…” Angel? What the hell is up with her today? First she ‘defends’ you from that woman, and now that you think of it, all she’s been calling you so far are very affectionate pet names. Sure, she’s called you these types of nicknames before but in a more degrading form, hearing it now… It felt much more intimate than before.

You stare at her from the corner of your eyes, not daring to move a single muscle, hoping she somehow forgets your existence if you don’t move. Lauren had calmed down quite a bit now, it’s been a while on the road and you still had no idea where she was taking you, the roads were unfamiliar to you and even if you wanted to you couldn’t tell which road you’d know due to the fear overcoming your body. You decided to look down for the rest of the ride to not incur her wrath anymore.

It then clicks. The game’s still not over, they’re still playing, and the team’s golden ticket was driving a car to your grave. Lauren was still wearing her uniform and all, her headgear haphazardly thrown to the back of her expensive car, she even still has her team’s colors painted on her face. You don’t know the consequences of her bailing on the game, but you know she’ll be able to get out of it one way or another. Either by bringing her mom up or by bribing the coach into forgiving her. But all in all Lauren seemed more upset about what happened in the bathroom than her bailing on her game.

“Hey. Come on, stop daydreaming and get out.” Lauren’s voice was rough after she screamed at that woman. Turning towards the driver’s seat you didn’t see her there, the hell? Where did she go? Wait was it all a drea- “Over here, moron, god you’re so stupid. Or is it because that bitch rattled you to stupidity? Don’t worry, I’ll gut her soon.” Lauren said again, but this time you could tell she was speaking from your side, you looked over to find the door to the passenger’s seat was open and Lauren stood firm, her arms crossed and her face unreadable. Lauren reached a hand out to you, “Come on.” She said.

You didn’t want to grab her hand, who knows what she’d do to you if you did, so you tried to leave the car without her help, but before you could even put one foot out the door, Lauren pushed you back down, “Take my hand.” And you did, although hesitantly. Lauren, like some gentleman, pulled you up, helping you out of her ridiculously expensive car. You heard her mutter something for what felt like the 50th time this night, “God... still shivering.. to kill that freak…” Why in god’s name do you only manage to hear her murder plots when she mutters.

You look at the house Lauren parked at, it had the normal suburban house structure but was surrounded by much richer, fancier houses. Was it Lauren’s house? Knowing Lauren you’d thought she’d have a bigger, grander, fancier house. Your thoughts and speculations didn’t have to go on for long since Lauren spoke up as if she’d heard your every thought. “This is my house, from now on you’re going to come over every weekend, got it?” You turned to her, face full of disbelief. That ridiculous sentence completely woke you up from your fear, is she kidding? As if you’d spend two days and two nights trapped in her house, with satan and its spawn.

It all felt like a joke really, none of it felt real, so you laughed like anyone in this situation would. “Y-you’re kidding, right? You hate me! I hate you! We shouldn’t even be near each other for an hour, no less two days!”And you kept laughing, damn near falling to the floor from how stupid this situation is. A slow chuckle came out of the lady in front of you, looking back up at her you wiped away the fake tears, but oh how fast your smile fell. Lauren wasn’t chuckling because she realized how ridiculous she was being, she chuckled to get your attention. She looked beyond pissed, as if she’d strangle you if she so wished.

Lauren walked closer to you and you walked back until your back unfortunately met with the car behind you. Lauren placed one hand on your hip, and the other took hold of your chin, “H-Hey I-I was j-just kiddi-” You were silenced. Lauren crashed her lips into yours before you could utter another word. Shock filled every part of your body, you were frozen still. Unable to react to this sudden change of events, one moment she was openly threatening death on one person, and the next she’s passionately kissing the person she’s been relentlessly bullying. The strangest part is you could see her blushing, her eyes squeezed shut, while yours were still wide open.

Just as you were about to pull away she beat you to it, she was looking down at you all flustered, face so red it made a mockery of tomatoes, and her face paint was smudged. “You better know what this means. You’re mine from now on, you will be mine until we both die. I-I’ve never lov… Fuck, whatever let’s get in the house a-and makeout or something…”

The rest of the night was fuzzy, but all you know for sure is that Lauren never let you leave her side.

#yandere x reader #yandere #x reader #oc x reader #gn reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere oc #tw yandere #gender neutral #Yandere x reader #Female yandere #female yandere x reader #fem yandere #fem yandere x reader #Lauren McCanister #LETS GOOO I POSTED :33333

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thatbadadvice · 5 months ago

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I (15f) am slightly worried that I led on some guys I did not mean to lead on.

There are two guys that I've hung out with over longer spans of time or regularly.

1. Hung out with him for several hours non-stop cause he was fun to hang out with, and we took a walk in the forest aswell, he got (slightly) touchy but not that much.

2. Works in a shop in my small city and I go there almost weekly just to hang out but always buy something, he sometimes offers me drinks for free (twice by now) or reduces the price.

They both got my insta too

However, the problem is that a) I'm not looking for a relationship and, more importantly, b) they are both in their 20s.

I took care to mention that I am only 15 to both of them but idk if that changed anything. Any advice? I also don't want to confront them directly cause I might have just interpreted it like this.

Hello, anonymous!

Thank you for writing in. I am delighted to inform you that you have excellent judgment for wondering what the hell is going on here, and for questioning these guys' behavior toward you.

Grown-ass men — and that is what dudes in their 20s are — bear the burden of not being weird to, for, or about young women of your age. It is the grown-ass men of the world who are obligated not to make you, or young women like you, feel weird about literally anything. In fact, grown-ass men should go out of their way, on purpose and with gusto, NEVER to get even within ten million football fields' worth of "(slightly) touchy" with a gal of your age. So that's my read on Mr. Walk In The Woods. I have less to say definitively about Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks, but I trust your judgment: if you feel like Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks is sending some ~ signals ~, you're right about it.

It sounds like both of these Grown-Ass Men are trying to make pretty creepo moves, so let me be clear: nothing you could ever do could even possibly in the most remote sense amount to "leading them on," because you are not responsible for the behavior of Grown-Ass Men.

I think you know this, or you wouldn't be asking the Bad Advisor this question. You know they're being weird. You know you haven't done anything beyond exist in these dudes' general sphere, which you are entitled to do! You are allowed to exist in the world without having to swat off the advances of older guys! It really sucks that girls and women can just be living our regular-ass lives and have dudes be at us like this. But you're not responsible for their decisions — whether it's a decision to offer you free/cheap drinks (with strings attached, implied) or to get (slightly) handsy during a walk in the woods.

The fact that you told both of these Grown-Ass Men explicitly that you are 15 years old should have sent both of them spinning back into the sun with shame and embarrassment, not that they probably needed it spelled out, but GOOD ON YOU for making it so clear. That is actually terribly brave of you, and they should have fallen all over themselves to not fall all over you subsequently. They should be mortified about their behavior.

You did not misinterpret their actions; and if you did, who cares? Some dudes who weren't hitting on a 15-year-old will continue to not hit on a 15-year-old? Girl, your self-preservation instinct is INTACT and WORKING. It's on them not to be creepos. Any Grown-Ass Man who is on the level and not a weirdo would 1000000000000% never need to be told "Hey dude, I'm 15" in the first place. You have good judgment. You are reading these men correctly.

So what do you do about your good judgment? Well, first — no more walks in the woods. Suddenly you have an urgent appointment that precludes all walks in woods! The benefit-of-the-doubt ship has sailed. Dude got handsy and you dislike it. Dunzo. You are unavailable for future walks in woods (or anywhere). You've got a test to study for, a practice to go to, some buddies to hang out with elsewhere. So sorry, no-can. Dude can find a 20-to-90-something-year-old woman to paw up under the canopy if that's his jam. There are scores of women his age and older who'd be glad (i guess?) to get felt up while some dude shoves them ~ romantically ~ against the bark of a moldy Hackberry.

As for Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks — look, I appreciate the appeal of a discount beverage — but I think you gotta be prepared to aggressively (politely) pay for your drinks. Dude says "This one is on the house" and you DGAF, because you've got $5 cash and you're laying it on the counter with a smile and saying "I really appreciate it, but I'd like to pay for my drink — you get it!"

It's the "you get it!" that's really the key here. It's polite, but clear. It demands that these Grown-Ass Dudes do the work of not getting it and saying so if they're gonna be that dippy about it. You can use it on Mr. Handsy In The Woods, too. You can't do X, Y, Z because Reasons -- "Gotta get back to piano practice, it would be weird if I stayed here, since we're just friends! You get it!"

You shouldn't have to do the work of offering these dippos the "you get it" out, but it's a safe and reliable way of making it clear that they better the fuck get it. Like, they better the fuck understand that you are 15 and they are being weird about this whole deal.

Practice:

"Oh, I'd like to chill but doing another big long hang alone together would make it seem like we're going out or something, and that would be weird -- you get it."

"I appreciate the discount, but if I keep taking these drinks, it'll seem like you LIKE me or something. That's weird, right? You get it!"

If either of these Grown-Ass Men gets sketchy about these very polite brush-offs, that shit is on them and will only confirm what you know: you have great judgment. These dudes are weird. If they're going to be weird, you can be so polite that they have to explain why, specifically, they are being weird and don't understand what you are politely saying, which is that their interest in you is weird.

You have not led these Grown-Ass Men on by existing in their universe. You have not led them on by being polite to them and tolerating their inappropriate advances to preserve your own safety. The concept of "leading on" is bullshit, fucked up, heteronormative dipshittery that puts the burden on women, mostly, to account for the crappy behavior of men who can, do, and should know better. I assure you these men know better, and they think you don't. That's why older guys pursue younger and teen women in the first place — they think they get to be the big men in charge, because they're afraid they can't manipulate women their own age.

Here's what, though: they can't manipulate you, either. You are clever, self-possessed and a great self-advocate. They're being weird. You're being smart. Make sure they know it.

#advice #good advice interlude #older guys #creeps #creepos #this fucking guy

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ddollfface · 5 months ago

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𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐀 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐦𝐚; 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞

Being The Daughter of The Orgre Is Difficult, Especially When It Comes to Dating.

It was a struggle, dating that is. Throughout your life, there’s always been something that causes boys to run away from you, both literally and figuratively. Though the actual running died off as you got older, instead, they’d just look you up and down and chuckle, whispering something to their friends before walking off. During those times, you wished they’d just run away screaming their heads off, that way they wouldn’t bruise your ego with harsh words and nasty stares.

This wasn’t that big of a deal, at least when you were young. In your early years, you were far more concerned wondering what your mama was going to cook for dinner, or how far you’d make it on the monkey bars (you always did all of them, no question about it), so you didn’t really recognize this aversion boys had for you. If you did, then you just didn’t care. The idea of romance was clearly not on your mind as a seven-year-old.

But, just like most girls, you grew up. Your body began to change and morph into that of a woman, albeit an awkward one, but a woman nonetheless. You were getting older, changing, and noticing how society viewed you differently, not just because you were a woman, but because you were… well… you.

Of course, being a girl in this world put you in an interesting position, seeing how society had certain expectations of you, even though you were still so young and oh-so dumb. How can one expect someone so young, who hasn’t even lived for two decades, to know if she wants to birth a whole human? Let alone have more than one! The judgments didn’t stop there. There were constant stares, constant whisperings, and rumors going around that you weren’t a girl, instead, you were some old man disguised as a girl because there was no way a girl could ever look like that. Because there was no way a girl could ever carry that much, or run that fast, or act like that.

There was no way that you were a girl.

And so, not only did boys avoid you, but so did girls. Most people deemed you to be weird, abnormal, and frankly a little scary. The way you were framed, carried yourself, and looked was just too odd not to stare, not to gawk, and not to talk about. You were just so strong, so capable of crushing a bone to dust, and everyone knew.

Everyone knew that you were strong, not just by looks, but from personal experiences. You excelled in the physical arena and somewhat advanced in academics as well, but you really stood out on the court, field, or really anywhere where physical strength and agility were required. Even without thinking, you were capable of so much, so much more than everyone combined. You didn’t need to do anything, simply flicking a baseball would send it further than any major league ever has, or kicking a soccer ball into the atmosphere with a flick of your ankle. Yeah… your teacher knew that whenever you were put into a game, he wasn’t going to get a ball back, so you weren’t.

Simple as that, you weren’t allowed to do anything, too harsh, too strong for everyone else. Your teachers knew it, your classmates knew it, and you knew it.

So naturally you were a repellent when it came to dating, not that you’re interested or anything. For sure, you’ve never thought of holding a boy's hand, or running your fingers through their hair while they rested on your muscular thighs, or going out to eat together, or going to the movies, or-

Okay, maybe you’ve thought about it… but that’s normal! Everyone, at some point, wishes for some type of intimacy, right? Was it wrong that you wanted a boyfriend?

No, it wasn’t, so when the foreign exchange student’s eyes met yours, you were a lost cause. At that moment, when he first walked into the room, taller than the average man, seemingly calm but a little lost, you were a goner. You were not obsessed, but extremely attracted to him. He was so different, and he didn’t know anything about your feats in strength, or how you may have broken an arm or two when you were younger…

He was your fresh start, your chance of having some normalcy throughout your chaotic life of training and searching for victory over it. Ah, right… You forget about it sometimes, how it’s stare seemingly never leaves, always observing, watching, and calculating. At certain times, you feel as if you’re on TV or something, as if you’re about to be PUNK’D. It never happens though... At this point, you’ve gotten used to it, accepting it, and now searching for it.

Throughout your life, this thing, creature, man, or government has always watched over you, leaving you some money to pay the month’s expenses, keeping food on your table, and seemingly encouraging you to buy some heavier weights, which you ignore. Rather than the occasional envelope with cash on your doorstep or maybe the occasional fighter sent your way, who you suspected was sent by this thing, there was no contact between you and this creature. You didn’t know it’s name, why it’s doing this, or how it knows you. And it’s always been that way, and you’ve accepted it in your life, deeming that you’d crush it anyway. You never thought it’d ever reach out to you.

And let’s just say you were in shock when you were given a note, a piece of paper lying on your dingy, kitchen table. Though it was just a piece of paper, it was so intimidating, so threatening that you couldn’t help but lose your breath at the sight of it. It’s not that you’re scared of paper, but instead, what was written on it.

After seventeen years, what could it possibly have to say? Almost in the blink of an eye, you were standing over the paper. It was fancy, you noted, picking it up as you examined it, not even reading it. It was quality paper, as much quality paper can be, and it had a little emblem in the corner. That piqued your interest, getting closer you gasped, throwing the paper onto the table.

Why the hell is the 5-7 Paulownia seal on this stupid paper? Picking the paper back up, you let your finger graze over the seal, solidifying that it was in fact the seal of the Japanese government. With a sigh, you decided to read the paper, trying to ignore that whatever has been watching you has some type of power in the government, especially if they have access to this type of material.

Stop with this girly bullshit. You’re a Hanma, you don’t settle, so quit it with that blondie and get used to it. Y.H.

Huh? Who knew such few words could cause so much turmoil? After all these years, this is the most you’ve ever heard from this thing, who may or may not be a government official, and happens to be an asshole as well. You couldn’t help but clench your jaw, crumbling up the paper as you threw it into the trash, not thinking twice. Grumbling under your breath, you rolled your eyes, deciding to cook some dinner.

Who was this guy, and you assume it’s a guy because no woman would say that type of shit, to order you around as if he’s your dad?

Hanma, you think to yourself, sitting down with a bowl of soba in front of you, Pretty sure that’s the name of that one fighter… You looked up in thought, stirring the noodles mindlessly, feeling as if there was more to the thought, but you didn't get to finish it.

Knock

Great, who could that be? To your surprise, and your heart's demise, you’re met with the so-called “blondie.” You smile, feeling yourself go weak in the knees as you looked him, creating some small chit-chat, feeling time fly quickly. And you almost cry when he asks you out, questioning your sanity when he tucks some hair behind your ear before walking away. You can’t even remember what he said anymore, was it the aquarium? Or was it the park? You, honestly, don’t care, just too giddy to express a coherent thought.

The note no longer on your mind once you sat down, smiling at the bowl, mindlessly stirring as you sighed. For the first time ever, you finally have a shot with someone, someone who doesn’t care about how strong you are, how you look, or how others think about you. He doesn’t care if you’re taller, stronger, and could honestly beat his ass, he likes you.

So caught up in your thoughts, that you completely miss the dark aura looming through the window. A man with crimson hair, flowing down his back, and twirling through the wind as his bloodlust seeps throughout the city. His smile taut as he clenched his jaw, watching from afar as his kin wandered down the wrong path, not even paying any mind to his warnings, his cautions. Brown eyes trailed the figure of a giddy blonde, who pumped his fist in the air, too happy to acknowledge any peering eyes.

With a sigh, the monster of a man followed after the stupid schoolboy. If no one was going to listen to him, then he’d just have to take action, wouldn’t he? After all, what kind of father would he be if he let his only daughter mingle with such pests who couldn’t even bruise her pinkie finger?

What a stupid girl, He thinks as the breaking of bones and squealing gets lost in empty air, a disappointed frown seeping into his features.

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thejoyofseax · 1 year ago

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Why We Can't Have Medieval Food

I noted in a previous post that I'd "expand on my thinking on efforts to reproduce period food and how we’re just never going to know if we have it right or not." Well, now I have 2am sleep?-never-heard-of-it insomnia, so let's go.

At the fundamental level, this is the idea that you can't step in the same river twice. You can put your foot down at the same point in space, and it'll go into water, but that's different water, and the bed of the river has inevitably changed, even a little, from the last time you did so.

Our ingredients have changed. This is not just because we can't get the fat from fat-tailed sheep in Ireland, or silphium at all anywhere, although both of those are true. But the aubergine you buy today is markedly different to the aubergine that was available even 40 years ago. You no longer need to salt aubergine slices and draw out the bitter fluids, which was necessary for pretty much all of the thing's existence before (except in those cultures that liked the bitter taste). The bitterness has been bred out of them. And the old bitter aubergine is gone. Possibly there are a few plants of it preserved in some archive garden, or a seed bank, or something, but I can't get to those.

We don't really have a good idea of the plant called worts in medieval English recipes. I mean, we know (or we're fairly sure) it was brassica oleracea. But that one species has cultivars as distinct as cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, kale, Brussels sprouts, collard greens, Savoy cabbage, kohlrabi, and gai lan (list swiped from Wikipedia). And even within "cabbage" or "kale", you have literally dozens of varieties. If you plant the seeds from a brassica, unless you've been moderately careful with pollination, you won't get the same plant as the seeds are from. You can crossbreed brassicas just by planting them near each other and letting them flower. And of course there is no way to determine what varietal any medieval village had, a very high likelihood that it was different to the village next door, and an exceedingly high chance that that varietal no longer exists. Further, it only ever existed for a few tens of years - before it went on cross-breeding into something different. So our access to medieval worts (or indeed, cabbage, kale, etc) is just non-existant.

Some other species within the brassica genus are as varied. Brassica rapa includes oilseed rape, field mustard, turnip, Chinese cabbage, and pak choi.

We have an off-chance, as it happens, of getting almost the same kind of apple as some medieval varieties, because apples can only be reproduced for orchard use by grafting, which is essentially cloning. Identification through paintings, DNA analysis, and archaeobotany sometimes let us pin down exactly which apple was there. But the conditions under which we grow those apples are probably not the same as the medieval orchard. Were they thinned? When were they harvested? How were they stored? And apples are pretty much the best case.

Medieval wheat was practically a different plant. It was far pickier about where it would grow, and frequently produced 2-4 grains per stalk. A really good year had 6-8. In modern conditions, any wheat variety with less than 30 grains per stalk would be considered a flop.

Meats are worse. Selective breeding in the last century has absolutely and completely changed every single species of livestock, and if you follow that back another five centuries, some of them would be almost unrecognisable. Even our heritage breeds are mostly only about 200 years old.

Cheese, well. Cheese is dependent on very specific bacteria, and there are plenty of conditions where the resulting cheese is different depending on whether it was stored at the back or front of the cave. Yogurts, quarks, skyrs, etc, are also live cultures, and almost certainly vary massively. (I have a theory about British cheese here, too, which I'll expand on in a future post)

So, even before you go near the different cooking conditions (wood, burnables like camel and cow dung, smoke, the material and condition of cooking pots), we just can't say with any reliability that the food we're making now is anything like medieval people produced from the same recipe. We can't even say that with much reliability over a century.

Under very controlled conditions, you could make an argument for very specific dishes. If you track down a wild mountain sheep in Afghanistan, and use water from a local spring, and salt from some local salt mine, then you can make a case that you can produce something fairly close to the original ma wa milh, the water-and-salt stew that forms the most basic dish in Arabic cookery. But once you start introducing domestic livestock, vegetables, or even water from newer wells, you're now adrift.

It is possible that some dishes taste exactly the same, by coincidence. But we can't determine that. We can't compare the taste of a dish from five years ago, let alone five hundred, because we're only just getting to a state where we can "record" a taste accurately. Otherwise it's memory and chance.

We've got to be at peace with this. We can put in the best efforts we can, and produce things that are, in spirit, like the medieval dishes we're reading about. But that's as good as it gets.

#medieval cookery #medieval cooking #food history #historical cookery #historical cuisine #medieval arabic cookery #horticulture #genetics

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the-sour-patch-crew · 6 months ago

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TLDR Version of this post

I've been seeing people complain that "The Future is Plural" is about wanting people to be traumatized.

It's not.

But, for those people who feel trauma is the only way to be plural let's see all the POSITIVES of more people being plural.

When people feel safe and accepted, they stop hiding. Thus more systems.

Systems who decided not to end their lives would add to that number. Which is probably the BIGGEST reason to want the future to be plural because even one life lost is one too many.

With more visibility means even more understanding of plurality in the medical field. More understanding in how to help systems cope and heal. This means more people can also be accurately diagnosed, which again increases the number of systems.

Cultural and religious plurality gets to keep thriving and expanding to new generations.

Trauma isn't going anywhere, and if the best way for someone to cope is to be a system, then yes, I hope we do see more plurals in the future. Especially if the other option would be far, far worse.

The Future is Plural is as easy to understand as The Future is Trans or The Future is Women or The Future is Neurodivergant.

I am NOT explaining the slogan or feel a need to defend it. What I am trying to do is show the positives that people seem to have a hard time finding when they take it so literally.

#actually plural #mixed origin system #endo safe #syscourse #the future is plural #pluralgang

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gorgeouslypink · 1 year ago

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Easy Method to Enter the Void (No Meditations, LOA, Subliminals, etc)

This post was supposed to be shared weeks ago but I totally forgot about it so please enjoy it now. I am on break still however.

link to original post: here

link to another bloggers explanation in more clearer terms: here

I consciously reached the void within 6 minutes of falling asleep (new record) easily via the Bob Monroe couch/recliner method I posted here before. I did it after no more than 3.5 hrs of WBTB. Unsurprisingly, this person also has the same experience of chilling in the void after WBTB and sleeping in a recliner. You can anywhere and do anything once you're in the void. I strongly recommend using this method.

A beanbag also seems to work as it molds itself to your position. If using a couch/recliner, it should ideally be at a 120-130 degree angle.

You need a pillow on your neck and back so your field of vision is forwards like waking life and not sideways or downwards like dream life. It's also worth noting Tibetan Buddhist monks (creators of dream yoga which is known as lucid dreaming in the mainstream) also slept sitting upright.

IME, I was snapped out of it because of external stimuli of which I suspect was cars I heard outside my usual reality. This is something I failed take into account because while sleeping while sitting upright with your eyes positioned forward does prevent key parts of the mind like the prefrontal complex from shutting down during physical sleep, you can get woken up by outside noise due to an awake conscious mind. This can be remedied easily with noise cancelling headphones or earplugs or maybe even sleeping pills. Haven't tried this with binaural beats and don't care enough to.

I also didn't experience sleep paralysis before reaching the void. Your experience may vary. Due to you basically forcing your body in a sort of in between, half awake, half sleep state, you may have an intense conscious sleep paralysis episode involving falling sensations, entity communication and etc. There's also a real chance of you falling asleep only to "wake up" by stepping out your recliner only to turn around and literally see your body sleeping. If you freak out, your astral body might get sucked back into your physical body and you'd be woken up.

This method is a free and easy way to induce an altered state of consciousness but by now you should really be aware of what can come with you hovering on the line between a waking state and a sleep state.

#void state #void success

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virgolixx · 1 year ago

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Head cannon:

:How would these one piece men react to their S/O getting badly injured on the battle field:

Sanji, Ace, Eustass, law

Theme: Angst

⚠️Warnings: Mentions of near death/harm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji:

The moment Sanji would see you wounded from your opponent’s sword he would defeat his own opponents in an instant and would practically fly to your side, kicking your own opponent across the battle field with such force causing the person to get knocked out unconscious.

Sanji would drop to his knees and hold you close on his lap, trying to hold back his tears, he would be yelling for chopper to help you.

Once chopper is helping you Sanji would stay close by to protect you and chopper, guarding that no other damn ass hole would touch or hurt you again.

Even after you are patched up and will make a recovery. Sanji would still keep an eye on you from the battle field

After the battle Sanji would have you resting in bed until your fully recovered. He would cook you nutritional meals and would constantly give you kisses.

“Get better soon my love”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ace:

The moment ace sees you on the floor unconscious and bloody, after your opponent threw you through the wall. His once calm demeanor changes drastically, he faces your opponent with rage.

Ace burns your opponent to a crisp while the other opponents are either groaning in pain from the burns ace gave them or unconscious from the beating ace gave.

Once all those damn people are down for the count he calms down and rushes over to your side. Holding you in his arms he pushes your hair out of your face.

Ace would use his hand to clean away any dirt or blood from your face. Noticing you starting to wake up, ace smiles softly as he would pick you up.

“Hold on my flame, let’s go get you some help”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eustass:

Eustass….this man would literally see red, absolutely rage mode, he’s killing everyone.

Either it be a small bump or if you are greatly injured by an opponent Eustass will get extremely mad and protect you with his life. (I just know Eustass has a soft spot just for their S/O, but he would never admit it).

After his rage he realizes killer is by your side trying to patch you up. Coming to the both of you Eustass drops to your side and holds you in his arms….(arm?)

Just like Sanji, Eustass will have you in bed throughout your entire recovery. Eustass allows you to cuddle him as much as you want. (Of course it’s only cause you’re hurt, duh, he totally doesn’t like cuddles 🙄🤣).

While busy with captain duties Eusstass has killer watching over, and to get you anything you may need.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Law:

Law is frozen in place, absolutely shocked. You’ve been shot!! Thankfully in the shoulder, but that doesn’t ease law at all.

Before law goes into attack mode the first thing he thought was, ”I…please I can’t loose her to”.

As you’re about to continue fighting your opponent law flashes by and starts to attack your opponent and the opponent’s comrades with all his might.

Law freezes the moment he hears you yell his name. He looks at you then back at the opponents to see them all bloody and unconscious on the floor.

Sighing deeply as a way to calm down. Law then runs to you and checks your wound in a panic, stopping him you tell him that you’re fine. Law suddenly then hugs you semi tightly, his face in you neck.

Law speaks out to you, “I thought I lost you “Y/N”…….I… love you”. Shocked that Law is finally showing you his emotions, you hug him back and say, “I’m here love, I’m not going anywhere”.

#one piece strawhats #trafalgar law #law x reader #portgas d ace #ace x reader #eustass kid #eustass x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #one piece x reader #one peice #Spotify

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corazondebeskar-reads · 6 months ago

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the art of breaking: part two

the art of breaking, part two: theory of decay

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. this fic contains themes of abuse and extremely dark content.

words: 10k

summary: joel knows just how to make you his forever. a sequel to "the art of breaking"

warnings (new warnings in red) and story under the cut; reader discretion is advised.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, glory hole, reader gives tommy a blowjob (joel and tommy do not touch), body modification, permanent marking, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, whipping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, vaginal, reader x other men, degradation, humiliation, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare, blink and you miss it piss "play," straight up abuse this time guys, overstimulation, forced eating, needles, voyeurism, objectification, human furniture/ashtray, cigarettes, consumption of non-food items, nipple/clit pumps, this one might be worse than the first idk sorry

Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it.

Please read responsibly.

i. dessication

When he goes to work, he leaves you free to roam the house and do your chores. For shorter trips out, he tends to put you in your cage. There’s no real reason, but it keeps you in a good place. You’re always softer, quieter when he gets back and lets you out.

He couldn’t do it all the time, of course. There are things needing to be done. Plus, every day, he gets to come home to you knelt, waiting by the door with dinner kept warm. He could afford a housekeeper, but then you’d have nothing to keep your mind and body occupied when he’s away.

Of course, sometimes he leaves you chained up in the basement. He can’t always be nice, after all. And the thing he loves to come home to most, second only to you kneeling at the door, is your exhausted body still tied where he left it, bearing the marks of his latest pleasure.

Sometimes, he just leaves you in stocks to contemplate all the raw kisses from his favorite whip. Sometimes, he has you pinned to the table with a vibrator strapped to your clit for the day. On the lowest setting—he’s not a monster.

Well. It starts on the lowest setting. He can do whatever he wants with it through a handy app. It was the only way Tommy could convince him to upgrade to a smartphone.

But today, you’re just set about neatening up. Neither you nor Joel are messy— though he does have a tendency to empty his pockets wherever he’s standing—and it’s not a huge house. You finish up early and have time to read while supper’s in the oven.

You’re already kneeling when you hear the key in the door, eyes down, hands behind your back, but you have to tense up not to flinch when you hear a second pair of boots.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” drawls a voice you don’t know.

The only reason you don’t panic is because Joel’s boots enter your field of vision. You’re intimately acquainted with them—literally—and despite the fresh layer of dirt, you’d know them anywhere.

“Ooh, damn, she’s good,” says the voice.

Joel chuckles and reaches down to stroke your cheek. “Told ya.”

You melt a little against his hand, letting the pride in his voice warm you.

He rubs his thumb over your cheek and lets you press a little kiss to the digit before stepping back to take his shoes off and dump the handful of change and crumpled receipts on the foyer table. “C’mon,” he says, snapping his fingers so you know he means you, too.

You resist the urge to look at the stranger, but you don’t like the way he lingers to follow you instead of following Joel. You can feel his eyes on your exposed flesh, the dress just short enough to show off your cunt when you crawl.

No one has ever come into the house before. At least not when you’re out and about. You don’t know if Joel’s had company while you’ve been in the basement or something; you’ve never even thought about it. All you know is that it’s been a long time since you’ve seen another person.

It’s terrifying.

You go to kneel between Joel’s feet, but he stops you. “Turn around,” he says, guiding you with firm hands to face forward.

He laughs when he sees that you’re still staring very carefully at the carpet. “Y’can look at him; he ain’t gonna bite.”

The other man, who has settled in the armchair facing the couch, laughs too. “I might,” he says.

“No, you won’t.” Joel’s voice goes hard for a moment, and you don’t need to see to know he’s glaring.

It makes you feel better. So what if someone’s looking at you? Joel’s still protecting you.

He lifts your chin up so you have to look at the other man. He’s broad, though not as much as Joel, with dark curls and dark eyes that make you feel like he wants to cut you open and see how you tick.

“This is my little brother, Tommy,” Joel says. “Go tell him hello.”

“Hello,” you say quietly.

“C’mon, now, go give him a proper greeting,” Joel nudges you with his foot. You crawl over to Tommy and kneel between his legs. Your gaze darts from him to Joel, teeth worrying at your lip.

“Don’t embarrass me, girl,” Joel warns.

Tommy lifts your chin with his hand. “He wants you to suck me off. Go ahead.”

It’s nice, but it’s not his permission you need. You risk one more glance at Joel.

“You heard him. You got two seconds, sweetheart, before you’re gonna regret it,” he growls.

“You goin’ soft? You usually have ‘em trained better by now,” Tommy teases, but his words have Joel seeing red.

You sit back. “What?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, did you think you were special?” Tommy says with a nasty smirk. He pats your face. “Poor thing.”

You look at Joel, tears welling up.

“What, you think I had a house full of equipment that’s never been used? Y’should be grateful. All my toys before you had to suffer some trial and error. I got it perfected now, and you’re wasting it, being a fuckin’ disobedient bitch.”

You close your eyes tight and choke back a sob. He’s never, ever spoken to you like that before. When you turn back to Tommy, you have your mouth open wide and waiting.

He leans back. “Well? You gonna make me do all the work?”

“Can I use my hands, please?” you say, eyes darting from Tommy to Joel.

“Great, now you got her all nervous,” Tommy bitches, and Joel rolls his eyes.

“Go ahead,” Joel tells you gruffly. You’ve been so good. So obedient. Maybe he shoulda warned you that he wanted to show you off. No, he thinks, it’s not his fault. He didn’t owe you a warning. You should just accept it and obey.

You’re shaking when you tug open the button of Tommy’s jeans, fumbling with the zipper. Apparently, it takes long enough that he grunts and knocks your hand away, pulling his cock out.

It feels like a trap. Joel has not explicitly ordered you to do this. But he doesn’t usually try to trick you.

“For Christ’s sake,” Tommy snaps, and yanks you forward. You get with the program quickly, wrapping your lips around him and trying to do your best.

He’s smaller than Joel, but it’s a decent cock. Not that it matters to you. Despite not having to gag on him, you can’t breathe anyway, too preoccupied. Why is Joel doing this? Is he going to punish you for it later?

And the worst thing, the thing that keeps bouncing around your brain as you try to get Tommy off: What happened to the other girls? Did he get tired of them and kick them out?

Was he not going to keep you?

You don’t notice you’re crying, but Tommy clearly enjoys it. He moans and holds you down as he cums down your throat. You aren’t ready, though, and sputter a little, coughing and leaking his cum down your chest.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel snaps. He gets up off the couch and yanks you away from his brother by the hair. “What the hell's the matter with you today?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry.

“Shut up,” he says, and drags you out to the place you visit in most of your nightmares, despite only having been there once in reality.

The Pit.

ii. consumption

When he comes to get you in the morning, you’re wrecked. Deflated, no more tears left to pour down your cheeks. For now, at least.

The sun is against his back when he opens the gate, reaching down for you with one strong arm. Bathed in the golden light, he is every inch your savior, and when you’ve climbed out on shaky legs, you prostrate yourself at his feet the way he likes.

He’s still mad, though, so he steps one filthy boot on your head and grinds your face into the mud. He pisses on it for good measure, the hot stream dripping down your hair and face onto the soil.

He’s got a switch in one hand. With you effectively pinned in place, he wastes no time in swinging it down on your ass.

You scream and sob as he beats you. When he finally stops, when he’s drawn every bit of his anger in welts against your skin, he lifts his boot from your head and squats down.

“Why d’you have to make me do this?” He’s solemn, sorrowful.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say, focusing on controlling the hysterical sobs wrenching from your chest.

You don’t know what will follow, so you remain still, not daring to move without an order.

“I should drop you off at a fuckin’ whorehouse,” he mutters. He pulls you up by your hair, and you scramble to your knees. “You can learn to suck who you’re told to suck.”

“Please, sir, please don’t, please—” It’s too much. You stumble, sobs wracking your body hard enough that you can’t move. You collapse in the grass with his hand still holding your head up.

He lets go, letting you fall.

You crawl to his boots and kiss them, mud be damned. It wasn’t like you weren’t covered in it anyway. “Please, sir, I’m so sorry, please don’t—” you say between sobs.

“Please don’t what? You think you’re in any position to be askin’ for anything?”

“Don’t get rid of me, please; I promise I’ll be better; I can be good.”

“I’ll think about it, if you can fuckin’ earn it.”

“Please, please let me try to earn it.”

He squats down and helps pull you to your knees in front of him, cupping your filthy face in both hands. “I don’t wanna send you away. You know I love ya. But if you can’t be good, then what’s the point, baby?”

Your sobs are subsiding out of the pure elation that comes from his gentle touch. “I’ll do anything,” you whisper.

“I know ya will. You don’t really have a choice.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m gonna get you fed and taken care of. But you’re about to have one of the worst days of your fuckin’ life.”

You choke on a sob and sway a little. The fear and the hunger are like a fog over your brain.

“Hey. Listen t’me.” He holds your hands in one of his. “You’re gonna learn, and it’s gonna be real hard for ya. But at the end of it all— if you take it all like a good girl—you’ll be forgiven. Got it?”

You look up through tear-sodden lashes, lip quivering, and nod your head.

There’s no part of you anymore that registers an issue. No warning bells, no red flags, no hair raising.

You follow him to the bottom of the patio steps, where he nudges you to kneel back down, folding over so your face rests against the soil. You wait while he goes inside, unsure of how much time has passed until he comes back out with a plate of eggs, scrambled with cheese and little bits of sausage.

That raises some alarms. Not to the way he treats you, but more of a signal for what to expect. It’s protein-heavy, which isn’t necessarily unusual, but it smells delicious. And there’s no way you’re getting to eat that after behaving so badly.

You’re half right. He squats down next to you and scoops up a bite with the fork. You don’t take the bait; you know that’s not for you.

He moans exaggeratedly when he chews, grinning all the while. And then he scrapes the rest off the plate into the dirt in front of your face.

“Ah, ah. Not yet,” he says, and you close your eyes at the sound of his zipper being yanked down.

“You get wet from that beating earlier?” he asks.

You nod, even though he’s already reaching down between your legs and shoving his fingers in your cunt. He brings back his shiny hand and strokes his cock.

“Look at me, baby,” he says, shifting onto his knees so when you open your eyes, you’re faced with his fist pumping away at the red, angry head. “Coulda been you. Shoulda been, but bad girls don’t get what they want.”

You whimper. It really does hurt your feelings, but you know you have nothing to say for yourself.

“Open. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and get some fresh.”

You obey immediately, squeezing your eyes back shut as soon as he starts to cum. A little bit lands in your mouth, which you hold open.

“You can swallow that. But don’t eat yet.”

He walks away, puttering around on the patio. You try to work up the nerve for his command, stomach churning. Maybe it’ll still taste fine. Maybe cold semen and dirt won’t ruin it that much. Maybe.

If you hadn’t earlier, you believed him now about it being the worst day of your life. He certainly wasn’t starting out small. Sure, you’d eaten off the floor before, but inside the house. The house you clean, so you know how sanitary it is.

But thinking about doing this makes you want to cry. And when he tells you to get started, you do cry. Just a little.

“You got about six minutes,” he says, checking his phone for the time instead of the eternally broken watch on his wrist, “and there better not be a single crumb left. Get your ass up here as soon as you’re done.”

You’re not sure how long it takes you, but it must be nearly the whole six minutes, because by the time you’re knelt at his feet on the patio, he says, “Cuttin’ it damn close, sweetheart.”

He’s playing fucking Candy Crush, legs kicked out on the little wooden table in front of him. He’s got you knelt at his side, and after a few minutes, he digs into his breast pocket and hands you a smushed carton of cigarettes.

You draw one carefully out of the pack and extend it to him, letting go once he’s pinched it between his lips and pulling out the lighter. Carefully, you ignite the tip for him and tuck it back away. You go to give the carton back, but he shakes his head.

He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth to blow smoke. “Hang onto that for me. And this,” and he hands you his coffee cup.

It’s not the first time he’s used you as a table. He tried using you as a footrest but found it less satisfying. You try to sit and work through your nerves, try to ignore the terror that he might not keep you if you can’t endure the day.

It’s a good thing that he drained you of any concept of dignity long ago, cut you open, and let it ooze away like pus from an infection.

“Open,” he says absently, not bothering to look away from his game.

Your eyes and mouth snap open, and he taps the cigarette against your lip, letting the ash fall onto your tongue. You jerk back a little but correct it immediately.

He quirks an eyebrow. “I’ll give ya a pass this time. But keep your mouth open, tongue out, and don’t fucking swallow.”

He’s clearly happy to spend the afternoon like this. He goes through a second cigarette and still doesn’t let you swallow or spit. Your knees ache from the planks of the deck.

He gets up and goes inside for a few minutes, taking his empty coffee cup with him. You don’t dare drop your position, though.

When he comes back out, he hands you a bottle of beer, condensation already dripping. He resettles to watch the game on his phone.

Anything resembling hope is trickling out. He hates watching things on the little screen, peering at it through his glasses. But he never smokes inside the house, so he’s resigned himself to this for the sake of your punishment.

It makes you feel less than the ash on your tongue.

By the time it’s over, your mouth has long gone dry, itching with the ash of four cigarettes, when he stands up and stretches. He leans down and holds your chin before spitting in your mouth.

“There ya go. Swallow.”

And you do. When you cough a little as the ashes cling to your dry throat, he pries your mouth back open and spits again.

It helps a little.

iii. dismemberment

You’d only been in the Pit once before. The first time was arguably your worst offense, which was good, Joel thought, that you still hadn’t topped that misbehavior.

But as glad as you are that it hasn’t happened a lot, it means you don’t really know what to expect. When he brings you into the ensuite, you know this routine enough that you kneel on the shower floor, barely flinching when he turns only the cold tap, and the faucet sputters to life.

He never gets in until you’re shivering, so while he gathers fresh clothes and towels, you scrub the mud from your body. When he checks and finds you satisfactory, he turns the knobs until the water runs warm.

Your shivers don’t subside for a few more minutes, though. Not until you’re practically done cleaning him with the spongey loofah. Hot tears burn in the corners of your eyes, though only a few slip loose.

When he turns around and takes it from you, you thank him for letting you wash him.

He gives you a smile, hand cupping your cheek.

“Of course, baby. Don’t worry. I’m going to help you remember how to be my good girl.”

But first, before he can follow up on the threat, he washes the mud and piss from your hair with gentle hands, massaging your scalp. You hold still, head tipped back, and let the tears come harder.

He notices but doesn’t comment. It’s normal now, when he takes care of you after a hard punishment. Or, in this case, in the middle of one.

You go to speak, to pour out your regrets and devotion, but he shushes you.

“I want you quiet ‘till I say otherwise,” he says. “Nothin’ outta you unless it’s an emergency. Got it?”

You nod, and he helps you to your feet, drying you with a soft towel and taking care around the raised welts on your ass. There will be some nasty bruises tomorrow, but when isn��t there? Your tits have mottled spots of yellow fading, and the shape of Joel’s hand around your throat basically never leaves.

He gives your raw, burning skin a sharp smack, sending you off to put on the dress he’s laid out for you.

He tells you nothing, just leads you to the truck. The drive is quiet, apart from the crooning voice on the radio. It’s a bit of a drive, and you park in a broken-up lot surrounded by rusty chainlink fence. He grabs your hand and takes you across the street to a dilapidated building. A cheap banner is tacked above one of the doors.

Joel hands a bill to a man, who opens the door just enough for you to squeeze in. It doesn’t take long to figure out where you are.

“Been a while since I brought you someplace nice, baby. Hope you like it, ‘cause we’re gonna be here most of the night.”

That’s the understatement of your life. He hasn’t taken you out of the house in over a year. You’re not sure you remember how to exist away from home, clinging to his arm as he leads you through the club.

You can’t decide what will be worse, but you don’t have to wonder for long when he drags you around to an empty stall. He’s not there to use a hole. You’re there to be one.

He clips your collar to the wall with just enough slack that you could pull back to breathe if the person on the other side doesn’t let you.

He takes the ring gag out of his pocket and dangles it in front of you. “You need this, or are ya gonna be good?”

“I’ll be good,” you say immediately, a phantom ache in the hinge of your jaw.

“You sure? ‘Cause if you have to ask later or I have to make that decision myself, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I’m sure,” you whisper.

“Good.” He pats the side of your face, two sharp smacks in lieu of a caress. There will be no softness for you tonight.

He waits to talk to you until your mouth is full. You look miserable, but you don’t hesitate. It’s not to the standard he’d usually require, but you’re both aware of the hours ahead, so he lets you pace yourself.

He crouches down near you. “You like that? Some random dirty prick in your throat?”

You, of course, can’t answer, but your eyes close against the hurt.

“It’s fucking disgusting. You think I want to let just anyone use you? I could fuck any hole I want. I could go out there and have every cunt and ass and mouth. You know why I won’t?”

Your eyes flick over to him, but you don’t try to answer, don’t stop what you’re doing.

“Because they ain’t you, sweetheart. You’re my perfect girl. Nicest I’ve ever had. And if I got something this nice, and I don’t share it with my brother? You don’t even suck him off right? How do you think that made him feel, baby?”

He keeps it up, past the point where he feels like carrying on, but he can tell it’s wearing you down faster than the relentless facefucking. You’re starting to work your jaw, joints popping in between visitors, but even that doesn’t compare to the way you’ve started to shake when he’s scolding you.

“I know you’re tired, baby. I hope you remember this fuckin’ lesson because I’m not sacrificing two nights of sleep again to repeat it.”

You whimper around the stranger’s cock, which encourages them to fuck into you harder. But Joel knows the tears in your eyes aren’t from that.

“Yeah, you were bein’ selfish, huh? I couldn’t fuckin’ sleep with you out there, and now I’m up all night with you here.”

There it was, he thought, watching you break. A little too early; it was going to be tough to keep you going. But nothin’ did you in like the thought of having hurt him in the process.

And it was true. He never slept with someone out in The Pit. Too fuckin dangerous. He kept watch on a camera. He needed you scared and sorry, not dead.

He watches as you choke down the stranger’s seed, looking like you might retch. He shuts the little sliding door for a few minutes and gives you some water. After you’ve rehydrated and seem a little less green, he opens it back up.

“Alright, get ready for the next round.”

In the truck on the way home, he keeps you tucked close to his side. Between the dark, empty highway and his coat wrapped around you, you start to doze off.

He nudges you a little. “None of that now. Ain’t finished with you yet.”

You whimper, not in protest but in exhaustion. Despite how hard you try to fight it, you’re fast asleep when he pulls into the driveway.

He thinks about waking you up anyway, to follow through on his word. He carries you inside and up to the bedroom, still deliberating, but when he tries to set you down on the bed, you cling to him desperately, even in your sleep. He manages to wriggle the coat off you and lays down beside you. He’ll just let you both rest for a little while.

You wake up, mid-afternoon, shaking all over. Joel awakens moments later, eyes wide as he tugs on your arm to roll you over.

“Oh, baby,” he says, and moves to get out of the bed. “Knew I shouldn’t have let you go to sleep.”

But you grab onto him, lip trembling.

He knocks your hand away. “I‘ll be right back, jus’ hold on.”

You’re curled into yourself, sobbing, when he gets back three minutes later.

He hands you a water bottle anyway. “Sit up; you need to eat. It’ll help.”

Somehow, you find the strength to struggle and wriggle your body into sitting. He brings you to lean against his chest while he leans against the headboard.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a kiss pressed to your head.

You start crying hard all over again.

“I know. M’sorry. I should have talked to ya last night, huh? S’that what you’re all worked up about?”

You nod. There you are, sitting in his bed, when you hadn’t fucking earned it. But he doesn’t shove you off or hurt you for it; he just feeds you a protein bar and lets you sip at the water between bites.

After he’s given you the last of the bar, he has you slide down to your knees by the side of the bed.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I disobeyed and embarrassed you.”

“I didn’t ask you what you did wrong.”

“Oh,” you say softly, and have to think. “I didn’t understand, at first. That you wanted me to suck his cock.”

“And after you did?”

“I—” you don’t want to say it. You know he’s going to be mad. He doesn’t like when you question things like this.

“Is this because Tommy said you weren’t special? ‘Cause you know better.”

“No, I just… why did you get rid of the others? What did they do?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, and cups your face in one hand. “I don’t think that’s anything you gotta worry about. Not anymore.”

“But how will I know how to do better?”

“You already are. None of ‘em ever made it this far. They talked big talk but couldn’t back it up. Some of ‘em didn’t want to give up the things you have, some of ‘em couldn’t handle my expectations. I told you, you’re the nicest thing I’ve ever had. You’ve let me make you exactly the way I want you to be.”

“Even though I was so bad the other night?”

“Yep. Because you took every consequence, and I know you’ve learned your lesson. And you’ll probably fuck up again someday. But if you keep wantin’ to be better, I’ll keep teachin’ ya.”

You can’t help but cry again. You’re so tired and so tired of crying.

“What, were you worried I was gonna replace you with some new young thing someday?”

You nod, and he clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“I’m gettin’ old, sweetheart. I don’t want to keep breakin’ in toys that ain’t worth my time. I just finished puttin’ you back together exactly the way I like ya. You stay my good girl, and you’ll be mine ‘till I die.”

It doesn’t stop your tears.

“Hey,” he says. “What do you need?”

It startles you. “What?”

“What do you need? What’s gonna make you feel better, baby?”

You’re not sure when the last time you’ve had to think about something like that is. He’s been taking care of you for so long now.

“Whatever you want,” you say.

“No, baby, that’s not what I’m asking.”

“That’s my answer, though,” you realize. “I need to feel whatever you want me to.”

“God damn,” he whispers. “I fucked you up, huh?”

Your lip trembles.

“No, baby, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just kinda incredible. Jesus. How could you think I’d ever get rid of you? There’s not a fuckin’ bit of you that isn’t mine.”

Your cheeks burn, so you bury your face into his palm and press a kiss to the center.

“You want to know what I want, is that right?”

You nod.

“I wanna fuck your pretty little mouth. And then I want to order us some fuckin’ takeout and eat it in the bath.”

It makes you smile just a little.

“Yeah? That sound good, baby?” His thumb rubs against your cheek.

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, open up for me.”

You wrangle yourself into position. The initial weight and taste of him sends warmth through your bones for the first moment since he dragged you outside.

It’s sloppy, the way he fucks your throat, in a way it usually isn’t. It’s always messy, but his thrusts are erratic. You can’t keep up with his pace because there simply isn’t one. It’s not long before he’s holding you down and pumping his cum down your throat.

It trickles down and cleanses everything in its path. You’re lighter, like you can breathe again. You thank him sweetly, pressing a kiss to his twitching cock.

He’s panting, but strokes your cheek with one hand. “That’s my good girl. Feel better now that I washed all those other guys outta your mouth?”

Technically, he had done that last night, had shoved three soap-covered fingers in your mouth in the gross club bathroom. Wretchedly, it had the side effect of making you nauseous, and he had insisted on doing it over after you threw up.

But this felt more pure to him, more consecrational in a way. The soap might have cleared the actual evidence away, but his come was your wine and wafer.

“Yes, sir,” you say into the flesh of his thigh where your head rests. You kiss there for good measure, eliciting a pleased hum from him that sends you preening a little.

He lays back on the bed, leaving a hand on the top of your head to stroke your hair while the other gropes around for his phone. “What do you want, baby? Lo mein?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

He feeds you noodles in the bath and then eats you out until you fall asleep.

iv. reduced to bone

You’re on your knees in the basement, bent forward over a metal pipe placed at just the right height to nestle into your hips and keep them tilted up in the air. Stocks hold your head and wrists in place, tits hanging just below. The wood is slowly dampening as you drool around the ring gag.

“Got a surprise for you, baby,” he had said when he led you down. “You know how you keep beggin’ me to hurt you worse, and I have to keep tellin’ you I’m not tryin' to wear you out?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Well, I think you’re going to like this.”

That had been… well, you’re not entirely sure. A while ago, maybe, but your brain wasn’t the best judge of time right now. After he had secured you here, he had dragged out the little machine. It’s sitting under your torso somewhere, thin clear tubing stretching out like a web he’d caught you in.

There’s no noise but the hum of it, which you’ve gone pleasantly numb to. The pressure is unending, each nipple and your clit being tugged into the tiny cups relentlessly.

It tingles, just on the side of too gentle to be fulfilling on its own. That’s okay. You’re pretty sure you’ll be in delicious, mind-shattering agony soon.

This you know because, well, it’s Joel, but also because of the tools he’s laid out on the little wheeled cart and left for you to stare at.

A thin cane. Clover clamps with a length of chain. A tawse with a tapered, pointy tip. A wand.

It makes you dizzy to look at.

Also, you know because it’s a Friday night. Joel enjoys you however he likes any day of the week, but he’s careful about saving the deepest of his cruelties for Fridays. Because mind-shattering wasn’t really an exaggeration. When he gets like this, you sometimes don’t surface enough to take care of yourself for a day or two.

On those occasions, he never leaves you alone. Doesn’t want to, both because he loves when you need him that deeply and because you’re so soft and pliant. Truthfully, he thinks he could do anything to you then and you’d thank him for it.

Which is why he’s got Tommy coming over tomorrow. It’s not that he thinks you need to be out of it to avoid a repeat of last time. He knows you learned your lesson and you’ll be good.

But he’s got something special in mind that he needs help with. It’ll just be easier for everyone if you’re at your most agreeable.

And yeah, you owe Tommy a blowjob. One of the ones that make Joel feel like he mighta died and somehow gotten through the pearly gates by the grace of your devotion.

Plus, he’s pretty sure you’re going to love his plan, and he wants you unprepared, so you’ll cry real pretty and be truly desperate to show him your appreciation. It’s been on his mind since that night a few months back when you didn’t seem to believe him about never letting you go.

He’s never fucking letting you go. There’s nothing in this world that could take you from him. He’s made sure of it.

Sometimes, he has to remind himself that you don’t know you’re married.

He thought about telling you that night, so you’d understand the depth of the commitment he’s made. But he doesn’t want you to take it the wrong way. Doesn’t want you thinking you need to act like a wife .

He’d had a whole bucket of bullshit cooked up to excuse it, but when he told you to sign the paper, you hadn’t questioned it. Hadn’t questioned that you couldn’t see what it was, only the line where he pointed. You’d signed the fucking paper and never asked a goddamn thing.

He was glad. He didn’t like lying to you. This was just one of those hoops to jump through in a world that didn’t understand what you shared.

When he comes back down, your eyes are already glazed over. Your body shines with a thin layer of sweat, and your chest is heaving as you squirm. It’s gone beyond gentle. The waves of suction have you whimpering soft and high, barely louder than a breath, but nearly constant.

He chuckles and strolls over, crouching down to wipe the sweat off your brow with the bandana from his pocket before it gets in your eyes. You give him a truly pathetic look, eyes wide as you drool helplessly.

“Not so nice now, huh?”

You whine.

He strokes your cheek with an exaggerated pout before sliding two fingers into your mouth, pressing down on the back of your tongue. It tries to curl around them, eliciting another cruel laugh.

“Jesus, girl. S’there anything that would stop ya from gagging for my cock?”

You shake your head. Even if you weren’t spread by the ring gag and choking on his fingers, you’re beyond speech. Too far deep.

Joel actually doesn’t mind when you talk. He’s got no rules restricting your speech (well, most of the time). As long as you’re respectful, he likes the company.

But he really likes when you go quiet like this. When he’s pushed you so far that you can’t .

“Look at you, all worked up. We haven’t even gotten started, baby. You gonna be able to take it?”

You nod, whining, and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes them on your cheek.

“What was that, baby? Couldn’t quite understand ya.”

Tears spring to your eyes as you whine again.

“I’m just teasin’,” he says and kisses your forehead. “I got ya. I know you’re gonna be my good girl and take everything I fuckin’ want.”

He reaches down and tugs the tubing until the cups pop free of your breasts. You cry out, but it turns into a desperate moan when he tugs the one off your clit.

Yeah, he coulda turned the pump off first so they just fell off, but where’s the fun in that?

He’s grinning wickedly as he reaches back up to your breast. He barely, just barely, brushes over the side of your nipple, and the sound you make goes right to his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so swollen.” He has to remind himself he’s playing the long game; he just wants to pinch and pull so badly. He’s pretty sure you’ll scream, even though normally it wouldn’t be much at all.

But he wants to fuckin’ torture you tonight, so he’s going to drag it out. He wants you incoherent and beaten down when he’s done, so far gone you’ll stay there for days.

So he’s gotta start soft. He drags his fingertip around your areola, not quite brushing the nipple but tracing the ring left behind by the cup. You twitch, shoulders jerking back, and he grips your breast.

“None of that, now,” he croons, letting go and switching sides to torment your other breast.

It’s holy, in that way you never quite understood. Not like the Jesus kind, though you never were much for church either, but in the way that people chase salvation through empty bottles and sharp needles.

With the wand and the tawse, he breaks you down again and again and again. But that’s the thing about Joel. He reduces you to pain or pleasure or the delicious apex of both that brews between your thighs, and then he cleans you back up, puts the pieces back where he likes them.

He makes you come until you cry, and then, when you’re sobbing and exhausted, that’s when the night really begins. You’re twitching and jerking at the barest contact, writhing with every snap of the cane.

It’s so, so good. Until it isn’t. But he’s running that damn mouth of his, that sweet, filthy mouth, and you can’t not take it. Your tears are gone, all run out; he likes to wring you dry. And he keeps rubbing his hand over your hypersensitive flesh, already raw and ruined, and murmuring soft words and sweet taunts.

“Look at you,” he croons. “My pretty little toy. You’re so beautiful, suffering for me like this, baby.”

And so you do. You suffer for him. There’s nothing left in your little subby brain right now but Joel Joel Joel.

You’re dry. He almost can’t believe it. The only time you’ve not been a sloppy, soaking mess was when he broke your finger.

He whistles low and slow. “Shit, baby. Guess you have some limits after all, huh.”

It’s impressive that you can even lift your head enough to shake it weakly. An overwhelming fondness washes over him.

“ Aw. Takin’ it for me anyway, were ya?” He comes around and squats near your head, unhooking the gag and easing it out of your mouth. He rubs gentle circles on the hinges of your jaw as you whimper.

“Did so good for me, baby. Lemme get you outta there, and I’ll give you my cock.”

You shake your head, tears spilling over, but you don’t have a voice. The words don’t come together in your mind, just devastation.

His grip turns tight, forcing you to look at him. “No? You tellin’ me no?”

You shake your head again, lip quivering.

“You don’t want my cock?”

You shake your head harder and try to reach for him, hands flexing where they’re bound in the stocks. Trying to make him see just how bad you want his cock.

Luckily, he understands that much. “You wanna stay there? Baby, my knees ain’t gonna like fuckin’ you here.” But he can tell from the way your face crumples that he still isn’t quite getting it.

“Are you tryin’ to tell me you want me to keep goin’?”

You nod and he slaps you, a sharp strike that catches you by surprise.

“Stupid girl,” he says, scowling, and gripping your chin tightly between his thumb and forefinger. “I decide when we’re done. The whole point of this was not to ruin ya. This ain’t a punishment. Well, it wasn’t. Might be, next time.”

He stands up, shaking his head. “Dumb fuckin’ cunt.”

It hurts worse than the cane did.

When he sees the heartbreak on your face, he sighs. “Ah, shit. Look, I know you’re just tryin’ to please me. But you’re makin’ me feel bad for tryin’ to be careful with ya. If I take it too far today, you won’t be able to take as much anymore. I ain’t breakin’ you.”

You’re sobbing too hard to respond, but you don’t try to argue or struggle when he releases you. You crawl to lay kisses to the toes of his boots and nuzzle your cheek against them.

He sees it for the apology it is.

v. parched to dust

This time, when Tommy Miller takes out his cock in front of you, you’re ready. And there’s no way in hell you’re disappointing Joel again, so you wrap your lips around him, not quite eagerly but with enough determination that no one could fault you.

When you drag the second consecutive orgasm from him, he tugs you away with a fist in your hair, panting and gasping. Joel swats his hand away and beckons you back to his lap.

“ Jesus,” Tommy finally says, tucking himself back into his jeans.

“Told ya it was just a bad day,” Joel snipes.

“Sorry,” Tommy says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shoulda figured. It’s just… you’re a little soft for her, yeah?”

“Course I am. But I’m not soft on her.”

You know he loves you. You do. But hearing him admit that he’s soft for you makes your chest ache.

“Got another surprise for ya, baby,” Joel says, rubbing his hand over your back.

You’re overwhelmed. It’s not that he doesn’t give you things or do things for you; it’s that it’s never such a big deal. It just is . He takes care of you. That’s how this works. Not gifts and surprises.

You bite your lip so you don’t question it, but he sees through you.

“Now I know you don’t remember. D’you even know what day it is?”

“Saturday,” you say. “You’re home.”

He shakes his head, but it’s betrayed by the smirk. “You’re right, baby. But what’s the date?”

You actually have to think for a minute. You hadn’t crossed off the calendar this morning like you usually did, and yesterday’s activities have you a little rattled. “It’s um, it’s August 19th?”

“That’s our anniversary, baby.”

Your brows scrunch as you try to think back. That’s not right. Your first date was in February. You moved in sometime early in June. You’re not sure what his metric is, but August doesn’t make sense. “Um. Are you… are you sure?”

He doesn’t get mad like you thought he might. He just laughs. “Course, I’m sure, baby. It was the night we came home from your folks’. When you agreed to be mine.”

Your face heats. “I’m sorry—”

“Y’ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry about, baby. I didn’t expect ya to remember. But you’ve been mine for two years now, and you’re still worried I ain’t gonna keep you. But I’ve been thinkin’, and I know how to prove it to you.”

If this doesn’t convince you, he thinks, nothing will. Never mind that his whole goddamn life revolves around you. Never mind that you’ve worn his collar for the last 731 fuckin’ days.

You’re busy wondering why he made you suck another man’s cock today if he cares about your anniversary. But then again, you’ve long accepted that what he wants won’t always make sense. It’s not your job to make it make sense. It’s just your job to do it.

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs,” he says.

You swallow hard around the sudden fear, and he laughs.

“What? Had enough yesterday?”

“No, sir,” you say. It’s mostly the truth. Mostly.

He shakes his head. “Not today. C’mon.”

Now that he moves, you follow.

Tommy’s already in the basement, which almost gives you pause, if only because his movement startles you.

Joel has you hop up on the padded table instead of the metal one, typically a sign that either you’re going to be here for a well-extended time or that he’s going to fuck you on it.

Tommy’s setting things you don’t recognize out on the little cart, but you don’t try very hard to look. Looking makes your breathing get a little ragged, so you look at Joel instead.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, bending slightly to give you a kiss before he begins to slowly circle the table, fastening straps over your body.

He’s left the dress on, which is weird, too, but you’re not complaining. It’s always a little chilly down here and even though you know you shouldn’t, you’re glad he’s not made you bare yourself completely in front of Tommy.

It’s a lot of straps. You watch curiously, if not a little dazed, as he secures your ankles, thighs, stomach, chest both above and below your breasts, arms in three places, neck, and head.

The one around your neck clips to your collar, not adding another band or choking you. But you’re unable to lift your head and neck at all.

When he’s done with the strap across your forehead, he smooths away the worry lines that crease beneath it.

“Just need ya to hold real still. You’re probably going to like this, but don’t fuckin’ come.”

“Yes, sir.” Your eyes are wide and worshipful as you wait for further commands.

“Be real good for Tommy, okay?”

Your heart pounds in your throat, but you promise immediately.

He hops up to sit on the spanking bench nearby.

“Where first?” Tommy says.

“Hip,” Joel says, settling in to watch.

Tommy goes about his business and pulls the bottom halves of the table apart, wrenching your legs open slowly. He spreads them wide and slides a stool over, situating himself right up by your cunt, and flips the hem of your dress up over your belly button.

You whimper and try to look at Joel for any indication of how you’re supposed to behave, but the restraints don’t allow enough wiggle room.

Something cold smears across the front of your left hip, and, much to Joel’s surprise, you break. You’re still raw in more than one way from the previous day.

“Please, sir,” you blurt, lip trembling and eyes squeezed tight.

He hops down, brow furrowed, and comes closer, raising a hand to Tommy to pause him.

He cups your face. “Please, what, baby?” His other hand rubs up and down your side.

You force your eyes open to look at him, blurred through waiting tears.

“Please, can I have a gag?” you say. Your eyes are scrunched, and fists clenched.

He strokes his hand over your cheek. “‘Course you can. Good girl.”

The praise keeps you calm while he steps away. When he comes back, you open your mouth wide, and he settles it between your lips.

You nearly cry in relief when you feel the little bulb press inside, not much different than the head of his cock. A few tears spill over when he leans down to kiss your forehead.

“Atta girl, he says, pinching your chin before returning to his perch.

The warmth of his touch lingers, and you let the pressure of the gag distract you from where Tommy starts to move again. You suck on it steadily, eyes fluttering shut when you feel the unmistakable scrape of a blade across your hip.

Shaving. He’s shaving you. You can’t fathom why, with only peach fuzz reaching there. And you think maybe it’d be a cold day in hell before Joel let anyone shave your pubic hair. He liked it kept trimmed but not too neat.

“I’m from the seventies, baby. Women’re supposed to have a nice healthy bush,” he had told you fairly early on when you were just dating. He hadn’t told you to stop shaving and waxing, but of course, you had.

Warm water washes over the area with a washcloth not far behind. Tommy’s firm hand does a final sweep with something cold.

“Alright, honey,” Tommy says, his voice almost seeming fond , “just hold still and be a good girl, okay?”

As if you’d do anything else.

You startle a little at the loud buzz that kicks up, and Tommy rubs gloves fingers over the opposite hip for just a moment.

And then he gets to work. It hurts . But the pain clues you into what’s going on, and you come to the only logical conclusion: Joel’s having you tattooed.

You start to cry, the feeling of being loved and owned overwhelming. You don’t hear Joel’s chuckle, buried as it gets under the gun in Tommy’s hands.

You thought it was overly cautious of him earlier, to worry about you having an orgasm during anything involving Tommy. But you get it now. The pain itself is bearable, almost delicious, but the rush of euphoria in your veins from the mere concept is intoxicating.

It goes on and on. Maybe it’s only half an hour. Maybe it’s four. The pain cycles, fading to a soothing heat before building back up to a scald.

You don’t realize it’s over right away. The buzz of the gun plays on in your brain even when the room falls quiet. And Tommy’s doing something to it, probably wiping it down, but your skin still rages.

Joel hops down and comes over to the side of your left leg. “Shit, that’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says to his brother.

“Looks damn good. Hey, she’s got a real pretty pussy, huh?” He says, elbowing Joel. “S’funny, watchin’ her leak all over.”

Joel peers over, running a finger over your cunt, and laughs. “Knew you’d like that,” he says.

You whimper.

He pulls out his phone and snaps a photo. “Want to see, baby?” He asks though he’s already turning the screen to you.

The skin is red and irritated, but the ink takes your breath away. In shiny black, right there on your hip, sits a blocky “JM” surrounded by a circle. It looks like a fucking brand.

Your eyes fly to his, whining desperately and praying he understands. A sly grin spreads across his face, and the tip of his middle finger traces oh so gently up your slit.

“Come for me, baby,” he says, not bothering to touch you further. He knows you won’t need it.

Vision blacking out, you writhe uselessly against the restraints as the pleasure batters through you. You’re only vaguely aware that the loud keening sound is coming from you, but it’ll register later when you feel the raw ache in your throat.

Tommy whistles. “Sorry I doubted you, princess.”

You whine through the aftershocks, tears welling up again at the thought of the tattoo. You hope Tommy would leave so Joel will fuck you.

Then you remember him asking, “Where first?” just as Tommy drags his stool around to the right side of your torso.

Joel comes with him, rolling up his sleeves and tinkering with something on the cart. They both touch your arm a lot, fingers roving and adjusting you. You start to tune it out until Tommy lathers a spot on the inside of your wrist.

Once it’s been shaved and cleaned, someone presses something against the spot for a moment.

“Well?” Joel says.

“Lines look clear to me,” Tommy says. He’s leaning close to your arm.

Joel doesn’t walk away this time. As the gun kicks back to life, he stays with his hand resting on your upper arm, looming over Tommy’s shoulder.

It’s easier this time, now that you know what to expect. It hurts, but you’ve had worse and probably will again. You’re feeling a bit too dizzy, though, when it finally stops.

“This one’s for you to see,” Joel says, starting to unlatch the straps. He frees your arm first and then your head and neck, plus the gag. The ache makes itself known as soon as you shift a little.

You peer immediately at your wrist, and a strange clenching tears through your chest. A few inches below your palm lays the dark outline of Joel’s thumbprint.

“Oh,” you whisper, a strange tingling spreading through your limbs. “Oh.”

“Knew you’d like it,” he says, lips curling into a smug smirk.

Once you’re untethered, he peels your dress off so the fabric won’t brush against your hip.

“There’s a protein bar and a bottle of water on the coffee table,” Joel says. “Go eat and wait by my chair.”

You’re swaying a little but he helps you down and makes sure you can stay on your feet before he removes his hands from your waist.

You make your way upstairs in a daze. Truthfully, you don’t really remember it. When they come upstairs, you’re knelt in your place, wrapper and empty bottle on the table.

“Good girl,” Joel says, lowering himself with a little groan into his recliner. He shifts around and pulls his cock out. “C’mere.”

You hop up immediately, and he takes you by the waist to help you settle where he’s fully hard already.

“Don’t move,” he says, to your great disappointment. “None of that,” he scolds at your pout. “It’s my turn. Just relax.”

Tommy sets the gun and equipment up to the side of the chair. You settle against Joel’s chest, snuggling in and resting your head on his shoulder so you can watch.

Joel’s other hand, the one not waiting in place, comes up to cup the back of your head. He bends his head down to kiss where he can reach. “You’re being so good. Just a little bit more, and then you can take this cock.”

“Do not come on her tattoo, Joel,” Tommy says.

Joel laughs, but Tommy smacks his arm. “I’m serious. It’ll fuck it up and probably infect it. Don’t fuckin’ do it.”

“I’ll wait ‘till it��s healed, don’t worry.”

You moan and clench around him at the idea, which only encourages his pleased chuckling.

Tommy takes your hand, peeling it from where it rested against Joel’s chest, idly brushing through the hair there. You let him, letting it go limp and unresistant.

He presses your thumb against an ink pad and pushes it down on a piece of paper, rolling it carefully. He repeats the process a few times before he’s satisfied. Wiping it clean, he coats it one more time before pressing it against Joel’s wrist.

You stare, rapt, as he traces the lines of your fingerprint onto Joel’s thick arm, framed by dark hair. It sits in parallel to the watch on his other wrist.

“Where d’you want these?” Tommy says after he’s wrapped up and started to pack away the equipment. He’s holding the papers where they tested your print.

“The safes. One in each office,” Joel says.

It’s weird, certainly, but so is Joel, so you don’t give it much thought.

He’s cradling your face in his palm, looking at you with something so tender and ferocious that you can’t possibly look away. He thrusts up into you, his other hand tight on the hip opposite the tattoo.

It hurts, but, well, you don’t mind.

The way he fucks you open now is slow, cruel after making you sit still for so long, but he’s savoring it. Savoring the way you can’t help but stare at him in worshipful bliss. It’s like a drug, the way his attention makes you hazy. He’s got you hooked, addicted, right where he wants you. His.

Not a damn part of you that isn’t.

The smirk curls across his face, and his hand curls around your neck, abandoning the gentle caress for something you both understand as love. You come on his cock when he tells you, every time he tells you, as he leaves you gasping and clutching his forearm, not prying him away but holding on as the room spins.

When he fills you, he kisses you deeply, hand back around your throat as his mouth takes the rest of your air. You collapse against his chest when he lets go, and he holds you there with a smug, satiated smile and a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You doze in and out in his lap as he and Tommy share a bottle of bourbon.

“Damn, I shoulda brought Daisy over. You haven’t had someone for her to play with in a while,” you hear Tommy say through the fog of your brain.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Joel says. His hand is scratching at your scalp and it feels so good you almost forget Tommy is talking.

“... my wife and your little pet—” he’s saying.

You don’t mean to open your eyes, but you catch his as soon as you do. He laughs. “Yeah, I got a wife. I’m not as mean as my brother, here.”

You find that hard to believe, but also, you don’t really think of Joel as mean. He’s strict, sure, and he has high expectations. But he takes such good care of you, and you want for nothing.

The phrase stirs something odd in your head. Do you want for nothing? Well, it’s at least partially true. You don’t want anything, not a thing you have or don’t have. You’re happy with whatever Joel gives.

It’s probably the same thing. Besides, you wanted that career; you wanted to put on a face, a mask, and pretend to be someone who gave a shit about the company’s reputation. And you were wrong, so wrong. And Joel’s always been right. So what do you know about what you want?

Joel’s rumbling voice startles you a little where you’re tucked against his chest. “She was one ‘a mine, y’know,” he says to you.

Tommy’s wearing a sly grin. “Yeah, until you scared the shit out of her,” he says, laughing. “Poor little thing didn’t know what to do with herself.”

“She wasn’t like you,” Joel says. He waits as if he expects a reaction, but you don’t stir from your safe place in his arms.

“Nah, not everyone’s as fucked up as y’all,” Tommy says. “I ain’t a sadist,” he says to you, a glint in his eye. “Don’t get me wrong, I do love puttin’ her in her place, but mostly, I just like havin’ my pretty little wife at home.”

Joel’s watching you; you can feel the heft of his gaze. But you’re so blissed out, so calm right here in his lap, dripping his seed slowly around where his cock still fills you.

“Would that bother you? Playin’ with a girl who used to be Joel’s?” Tommy goads.

You think about it for a moment. “She ever get his mark?”

Tommy grins, teeth like a shark. “Nope.”

You hum, unbothered, and nuzzle your cheek against Joel.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. “Knew you’d learn this time.”

You gaze at his thumbprint on your arm. The cells around it will grow and die, but not his claim on you.

It’s almost comforting, you think, that by the time that fades, there’ll be nothing left of you anyway.

bonus: the art of breaking playlist

thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who asked for a part two and expressed love for the first. I will admit I am INCREDIBLY nervous to publish this both because it's kind of fucked up but also because so many of you loved the first part and I'm scared this won't live up to your expectations.

please, if you enjoyed this, let me know! soothe my anxiety lol. and if you don't want to publically do so, anon is always on.

i love you!

#dead dove fic #dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #dark fic #dddne #tw non con #READ THE WARNINGS #HEED THE WARNINGS #fic: the art of breaking

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thinkwosolife23 · 1 year ago

Text

Are you being Serious? Katie McCabe

"Are you excited for your first day, love?" Katie asked as you headed into the Arsenal Training Centre.

Today was your first day training with Arsenal. Last week, you had visited the Colony to sign your contract and complete all your media duties. You had signed to Arsenal from Bayern Munich; after spending 3 years in Germany, you had decided that it was best for your career to return back to the WSL.

Not only did you now get to play with your sister for both club and country, you were finally able to play alongside your girlfriend. Katie and you had been together for just over a year. Her playing in England and you in Germany was really difficult, you didn't get to see each other all that often, but the pair of you made it work. And now you couldn't be happier to play with her.

"Yeah, for the most part. But I am a bit nervous." A slight stutter evident in your voice.

""Hey. Look at me." Katie tugged at your hand to stop the pair of you walking along, and now your body was facing hers.

She wrapped herself around your taller form; her arms going around your waist as her head rested on your chest and your arms resting gently over her shoulders.

""You've got absolutely nothing to be nervous about. Babe, you're an incredible player, I mean your literally one of the best midfielders in the world. Despite the fact that you're worse than me on the pitch, you're like the nicest person ever."

That was true. On the pitch, you're known for your aggression and your confidence. But off the pitch, everyone tends to describe you as a teddy bear, you're quite shy and quiet off the pitch and you hate confrontation.

"You know, I love this version of Katie. All soft and sweet." You slightly laughed as you glanced down to see Katie's now, screwed up face.

"Only for you, my girl." Katie said as she quickly pecked your lips before dragging you along to the changing rooms.

Turns out, all of the other players were already out on the fields by the time you and Katie had gotten there and were ready.

So when you walked onto the field, you were immediately thrown in hugs, greetings and introductions. Obviously, you knew some of the players from England or from previously playing them.

After meeting most of the team, you finally got to your sister.

"I missed you." Leah told you as she wrapped you up in a tight embrace, her head tucking into your neck as you quickly pecked her temple.

"I missed you too."

What you hadn't noticed, was Katie sending daggers to the sight of you and Leah being so close. You weren't that close or touchy with any of the others, so why were you like that with Leah.

Throughout training, Katie's mood only worsened. You and Leah had paired up with each other, laughing at joking every couple of minutes at something the other had said. To say jelousy was getting the better of her would be an understatement. And it was clearly affecting her play AND her temper: her tackles rash and harsh, she could barely hold the ball and to top it off - Jonas was laying into her about her often mistakes.

You had checked in on her a few times, but you were either shrugged off or just simply ignored. Many of your other teammates had faced this reaction as well, it was just less intense than how she reacted to you. You couldn't understand.

Once training had finished, the team began to flood into the changing rooms and the showers. Katie having stormed off way before the rest of the team. So when you strolled in, with your sister next to you, you were met with an angry Katie sat at her cubby.

Without a doubt in your mind, you headed towards Katie before placing yourself down next to her. Your hand jumping straight to Katie's thigh.

"What's up with you, grumpy?" You jokingly questioned her, her tensed face not moving a muscle.

"Nothing!" She snapped back at you, her gaze never looking anywhere other than the floor.

"C'mon Katie, you've been off since we got here."

"Why don't you go and let the rest of the team jump all over you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb, Y/N. Quite acting like you and Leah haven't been all over each other." Katie's voice loud and harsh, attracting the attention of your now shared teammates, including your sister.

"Are you being serious?" Slowly, tears began to drop from your eyes. You were shocked at Katie, not only at her accusation but also at the way she was digging into you in front of your teammates on your first day.

"For your information, she's my sister!" Your voice, now just as harsh, startled Katie.

"Y/N? I -"

And with that, you stormed out of the room, heading back towards the direction of the training pitches.

Katie was stood in the changing room, now receiving disapointing and angered looks from her teammates. Her head dropped in guilt and shame as to what she had just accused you of.

"What is your problem?" Leah shouted, giving Katie a hard shove in her chest.

"I'm sorry Leah. I really didn't know." This seemed to only make Leah angrier, giving Katie another harsh shove. Alessia and Caitlin now stood inbetween the pain, preventing Leah from getting to Katie.

"I don't care if you knew or not. You've hurt her!"

"You did just accuse her of cheating in front of everyone." Alessia's voice softer than Leah's.

"On her first day." Caitlin added.

Katie didn't even reply to her teammates, she simply ran out of the room before anyone could stop her. She began her search for you, opening every door she passed before slamming it in fustration when you weren't in there.

It wasn't until she went into the gym, that she calmed slightly. Out of the window: she could see your figure sat on the floor, slumped defeatedly with your head between your knees.

She slowly made her way across the field, not wanting to startle you before carefully placing herself beside you.

"I'm sorry, love." Katie's voice soft, barely going over a whisper. Her hand reaching out to grab yours.

"I don't want to talk to you." You snapped as you pulled your hand away.

"I know what I did - " She didn't even get to finish her sentence before you cut her off.

"Do you? Really? Do you know how it feels to be accused of cheating in front of a whole team by the person you trust and love most in this world? Cause I can't remember ever doing anything even similar to that, Katie!"

"I am really sorry. I don't know what to say. Sweetheart, I love you so much and I let my mind go away with something that would never happen. I was angry and may slightly have been a bit jealous. I know that you would never cheat on me. You mean so much to me and I get so scared that i'm gonna lose you."

"You're an idiot, McCabe." Tears were still running down your face, but you still let out a tiny chuckle.

"I know I am." She reached out for your hand again, letting out a sigh of relief when you didn't pull away. Her head going to rest on your shoulder as yours rested on her head.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Could I maybe get a warning next time that you're a Williamson."

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #arsenal wfc #awfc #arsenal women #leah williamson #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader

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hellfirecvnt · 6 months ago

Text

The Foundation of Learning

Lee Russell x Fem!Reader pt. 2

Summary: This school is unlike anywhere you've ever worked. Who's lying and who's just an idiot? You know how dreaming about a person can make you feel some type of way? That.

Read part one here. // Part three here. // Part four here. // Part five here.

Your first day was last Friday, meaning after that accidental acid trip, you had a whole weekend to decide if this is the type of environment you want to work in. Sure it's exciting, but you weren't even a whole day in before you were taking hallucinogens against your will. That's a bit more than the drama you're used to in a school.

Sunday night, you can't help but wonder about the two men you'd only just met. More so, you wonder about Lee Russell. A loud man who dresses even louder. His hair is stupid and you can't help but laugh every time his plans fumble, but you can't help but catch yourself developing a bit of a crush on this peculiar man.

You fall asleep peacefully only to find yourself in a dream about that same strange guy. Lee. He touches your cheek so softly, you're so sure you can feel it. The rest of the dream becomes a hazy fog of a childish feeling of infatuation. It lingers in your mind well after you wake up.

Monday morning, you're quick to rise, almost excited for whatever nonsense will be thrown your way this week. Last night's dream is still heavy on your mind as you enter through the front doors of North Jackson High.

"Ms. Y/L/N," Lee greets you with a bright, wide smile. You feel the heat rise in your face. You rely on your makeup to conceal that.

"Good morning, Mr. Russell," you beam, waving as you approach.

"You can call me Lee, darlin'. I'm not a fuckin' psycho," He says, referring to Neal's insistence on being referred to as Mr. Gamby during work hours. You return the favor, stepping into a first-name basis with him. It's nice. Like your first friend in your new town.

"Can I get you a coffee or anything, Lee?" You offer.

"No thank you, doll. I gotta get to-"

"Y/L/N, wake your ass up. I need you to hold any calls for me and Mr. Russell for the next," he glances at his watch. "45 minutes."

"Good morning, Mr. Gamby! No problem-" but he cuts you off.

"45 minutes, Y/L/N!" He exclaims, dragging Lee with him as they congregate outside in the woods by the train tracks.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Gamby? God damn." Lee pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Don't worry about it. I'm treating her like shit so she'll do better."

"She's been here for a day," Mr. Russell groans as they cross the empty field to get to their meeting area.

"Well, look at you, being at everybody's defense and shit for the first time in your life." Neal sneers at his cohort.

"I wish you would just shut the fuck up. For once in your life." Lee sighs, taking a seat on a large boulder. The two men bicker for a moment before breaking into brainstorming. Anything they can do to knock Dr. Brown off her throne. Eventually, and mostly to the credit of Lee's deranged mind, they hatch a plan to frame Ms. Leblanc, the meanest bitch in the school, for stealing and selling textbooks to a third party.

"I'll go plant the evidence," Gamby, stone focused on his objective, beelines for the school ahead of Lee.

"God damn... Idiot," he mumbles to himself. With Gamby occupied, he decides to stop by your desk.

"Y/N," he snatches your attention away from your duties on a dime. You quite literally drop everything when you hear his voice. You silently scold yourself for letting that dream get you bent so far out of wack.

"What can I do for you, Lee?" You wait for instruction as Russell just stares at you for a moment like he's considering something.

"Come with me to my office." He takes off down the hall. You round the desk and follow him with haste. Once you're inside Lee's office, he closes and locks the door behind you. You look at him with wide, curious eyes, trying your best to stifle back the heat on your face.

"We're going to frame Ms. Leblanc and turn her against Dr. Brown." Lee's words fill you with immense disappointment. Of course that's what this was about. You're embarrassed by how excited you allowed yourself to become, even if he's none the wiser. You furrow your brows and cross your arms.

"And how are we going to accomplish that one?" You ask, disgruntled. Lee gazes at you with a big smile, excited to hear you include yourself in his plan.

"Take a look at this." He grins, sliding an altered invoice across the table. In this convincing looking writing it says Leblanc signed for 600 books and no more than 60 have been accounted for within the school. "That bitch is fucked."

"Oh, wow. Is Ms. Leblanc a super bitch or something?"

"She's the super bitch, Y/N. And she is going to destroy Belinda for us. All Gamby and I have to do is sit back and watch." Lee revels in what he believes to be a foolproof plot. As if summoned by the sound of his own name, Neal appears. He steps through the door without knocking and looks at you quizzically when he realizes that Lee has just blown up their spot to you.

"What's going on in here?" Neal asks, hesitant to trust this new employee.

"Relax, Gamby. I'm just catching Y/N up on the details," Lee grins, pleased with himself

"Isn't this above Y/N's pay grade?" The mustached man does very little to hide the annoyance in his voice.

"Well, I'm trying to work her into the inner circle." Lee makes a circular gesture with his hands.

"Yeah, Gamby," you chime in, happy to be included in something that isn't reorganizing the incredibly fucked up records someone shoved into a box of papers before they switched to computers years ago.

"You can't just bring strangers into our plans just because she's an attractive person or what the fuck ever!" Gamby attempts to whisper, but it's just quiet yelling.

"Y/N, can we trust you, sweetheart?" Lee asks with big, shining eyes, grinning at you as he awaits your reply. And that name, "sweetheart." My God, you nearly melt on the spot. What's come over you?

"Of course you can. I only have time to talk to you two. Who am I going to conspire with?" You toss a hand up in confusion.

"Alright, but if I see you talking to any of the teachers after this, you will be fired on the spot." Neal wags a finger in your face.

"Fucking Christ, Gamby. Lighten up. You ain't firing anybody. Get your ass to the library." Lee snaps his fingers and points at the door.

"Am I really not allowed to talk to the teachers now?" You ask, a little confused.

"Don't listen to him, darlin'," Lee sweet-talks you, taking the falsified invoice in his hands.

"No. No, you do listen to me. I am your boss. If I see you talking to anyone besides me and Mr. Russell I will banish you from this campus." The pretentious vice principal stands firm in his decision.

"Okay, sir. I won't talk to the teachers," you sigh.

"Or the janitors and counselors," he adds and you nod. "No Para-pros either."

"Gamby come the fuck on!" Lee whines, rushing this interaction along so he can put his plan into action. The two men exit and Neal makes an "I'm watching you" gesture through the large, glass wall before disappearing around a corner.

You return to your desk and take a few phone calls, certain that Gamby's insane rule can't possibly include parents. After a while, a lady comes to introduce herself to you.

"Hey! Finally got over here during a planning period," she laughs. "I'm Amanda." She extends a hand for you to shake.

"Hi-" you stop in your tracks as you make eye contact with Neal way, way down the hall. He slowly shakes his head back and forth. You roll your eyes and return your attention to the woman in front of you. You begin to spell out a word in the ASL alphabet, hoping Amanda has even as little understanding of sign language as you have. You sign "Email" and she squints at your hands.

"Oh, I don't... Are you deaf? I swear I just saw you answer a phone..." She tilts her head. You sigh with frustration and begin typing out an email on your computer. Confused and feeling awkward, Amanda slowly walks away from the entire situation. You're quick to write her an email about Gamby's strange training practices, careful not to uncover their scheme.

You shake your head, hoping she sees the message soon so you're not blacklisted from making any friends besides these two maniacs in this new town.

"Hello, North Jackson High School," you answer the phone with a darling customer service voice.

"Oh, you're fake as hell, Y/N. That ain't what you sound like at all," Lee laughs through the phone.

"Hello, Mr. Russell-"

"Lee."

"Hello, Lee. How's the plotting?" You mindlessly twirl the telephone cord around your finger as you listen to him talk.

"I need you and Gamby's help tonight. We'll need a school bus."

"A school bus?" You ask, unable to fathom what you'd need a bus for.

"For the books, sweetheart. Stay focused," he scolds.

"My bad."

"I'll see you tonight," he says, hanging up right after. You could hear Neal calling his name in the background, otherwise you'd take that fast goodbye as an insult.

You attain the keys to a bus sitting out in the bus lanes. It was left to be cleaned after a kid pierced his own ear and bled everywhere on a field trip.

"Try not to touch any of the seats near the front. It's... Not good." You warn as you toss the keys to Gamby. "I'm not fucking driving."

You and Lee ride in his car, driving ahead of Gamby to the location to store the "stolen" books. Mr. Russell guides Gamby as he backs the bus up and you help the two men unload the boxes of extremely heavy textbooks.

"Holy shit, we fucking did it, Gamby!" Lee grins, self satisfied and hungry for confrontation. "And you too, darlin'. Thank you." He's quick to add.

"Nicely done, Mr- Oh, uh, Lee." You smile, hoping your newfound nervousness isn't too obvious. And to him, it isn't, only because he's distracted by his own infatuation with you.

The next day, shit hits the fan. Lee calls the front desk again and you answer.

"Hello, North Jackson High," you speak warmly.

"We're about to head straight to Leblanc's class right now!" You can hear his devious smile in his voice. "Brown is so fucked if she really tries to go against that stone cold bitch."

"Hey, do you think I'm allowed to talk to teachers now? Aman-" just as you're about to finish your sentence, Gamby swipes the phone from you and slaps it onto the receiver.

"No. And especially not Ms. Snodgrass."

"Why not? She's so nice and I don't know anybody in town besides you and Lee and I doubt you two are gonna want to go to bars and get drunk off fruity bullshit on Fridays." Your monologue leaves Neal pondering. He doesn't get invited to payday drinks, this is new for him.

"No. You'll let something slip. Snodgrass is wholesome. Too wholesome to get wrapped up in the shit we do," Gamby explains.

"Well then why the hell was I wrapped?" You raise a brow, questioning what he's insinuating.

"I don't know! I never would've done something so stupid and reckless like that." The broad man shrugs. "Russell has a thing for you or something."

"A 'thing for me?'" you repeat.

"Yeah. He thinks that you're an attractive person. And I guess he's not wrong, but... You're no Amanda Snodgrass." Neal shrugs as if delivering bad news he can't hold back.

"You're so right," you nod. "So when can I talk to her? I want friends."

"When I'm Principal." Mr. Gamby disappears to join Mr. Russell and Dr. Brown in pursuit of the books and you're left alone with Gamby's words. A thing for you. How delightful to know your little crush isn't as one sided as you thought.

"Ms. Y/L/N, could you come with me? I need you to take notes," Dr. Brown's eyes are narrow. It's clear she's on a mission when she makes the quick stop by your desk on her way to Leblanc's class.

"Yes, ma'am." You scoop up the board and a pen and follow her on quick feet. Just as she rounds the corner, you see Lee. You knew he was with her, and he smiles when he sees you.

"Mr. Russell," you smile, greeting him in a professional manner in front of the woman that holds reign over both yours and Lee's job. You follow the principal and vice principal down the hall and slowly you come up to a classroom with an involved teacher. She seems well educated and passionate about her teaching. Ironically, today's subject is about protecting your reputation with your life...

As you linger in the hall taking quick notes of the passive aggressive exchange, you see Ms. Snodgrass walking by. After a quick glance around, you're certain there's no Gamby.

"Hey! Ms. Snodgrass. Sorry about yesterday. Mr. Gamby has me on like... A vow of silence? I think I'm being hazed."

"Oh! That makes so much sense. I thought you were just kinda weird," she laughs, clearly relieved of the awkwardness.

"I emailed you about it," you chuckle, also relieved.

"Oh, I must've missed it-" Amanda's sentence is cut short as Belinda and Lee take off down the hall after the climax of the conversation. You wave a quick goodbye to Snodgrass and bolt after them.

Belinda is ranting and raving down the hall, all the while Lee cheers her on. He antagonizes every single time she seems to be calming down. It's eerie to watch the way he plays with her mind. You hope you'd be able to tell if he ever tried this sort of brain sorcery on you.

"I can't believe that bitch," Dr. Brown shakes her head, clearly fired up as she stomps into her office. Gamby follows her and closes the door behind him, keeping her on track and gathering information for later. Lee, laughing carelessly, leans against your desk as you take a seat. All you can think about is Neal's confession of Lee's feelings. Even if it was just a "thing." Whatever that means.

"Lee," you nervously call for his attention. "Do you want to get a drink tonight?" You're unsure where the nerve came from, asking your boss out, but it's not like he adheres to the rules very much anyways.

At first, he seems surprised. Caught off guard, mostly. He blinks a few times, knitting his brows for just a second as he calculates how to respond. Of course he's not worried about the rules, even if he plans on becoming Principal, the only thing he can focus on right now is you. His mouth hangs slightly agape as he carefully and regretfully makes his next statement.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Y/L/N. Maybe another time. I've got some stuff to handle real early tomorrow. I'll be a little late getting in, actually." He fidgets with his ringless ring finger, unable to keep meeting your gaze.

"Of course, sir. It's hard making friends here. You guys are... Different." You smile at Lee as best you can and turn your attention to the computer screen where you slowly and pointlessly sift through each individual piece of spam. Lee lingers for a moment, chewing on his lip in thought. After a short while, he's off to find Gamby and Brown to ensure she's still wrongfully fired up.

Immediately in your solitude your mind runs amok with rejection sensitive anxieties. You're heinously embarrassed, and the redness on your face only darkens when you replay it all in your head over and over.

"Jesus fucking Christ, why did I fucking do that? Who do I think I am? Where the hell do I get off?" You mumble to yourself, trying so hard to regulate past this visceral reaction. You begin to wonder if you've over valued yourself to this little team just because of your interest in Lee.

"What's wrong? Why are you doing that?" Gamby gestures vaguely to your whole being with his hand.

"Fuck, Mr. Gamby. You scared the shit out of me." You gasp, a hand placed on your chest in fear.

"You should be more aware of your surroundings and you won't get caught off guard."

"Hey, tomorrow's teacher work day, right? Do I need to come in?" You ask, hoping for a no so you can drink away the humiliation.

"At any other pussy ass school, maybe. But I need all hands on deck. You're coming in." Neal points at you with integrity and you groan to yourself.

"Are you sure? I'm going to drink the same amount regardless tonight. I might not be very useful tomorrow." You shrug, hoping the trust you've built allows for this sort of candid behavior.

"Something wrong?" He asks.

"You said Lee had a 'thing' for me, so I asked him to get a drink with me and he turned me down," you laugh, slowly accepting the embarrassment.

"Huh, well. That's just Lee, I guess. He's never made a lot of sense to me. All those fuckin' outfits." Neal shakes his head. "Guess he's not into you anymore."

"Oh, word," you say, swallowing the bluntness of his words. "Window closed, got it." You give a small salute gesture and turn back to your computer. "I'll be here tomorrow, Mr. Gamby."

"Well, yeah. I just said you would. I just told you that. I am your boss and you'll be here tomorrow." He nods and emotes as if he's repeating obvious information like 'the sky is blue.'

"Dude." You pinch the bridge of your nose.

•••

Taglist: @its-in-the-woods // @blackwoodtree (you didn't ask to be tagged, but you did ask for a part 2 ❤️)

#lee russell vice principals #lee russell #lee russell fan fiction #neal gamby #amanda snodgrass #vice principals fanfiction #vice principals hbo max #vice principals max #vice principals #danny mcbride #walton goggins #slow burn #hellfirecvnt

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