#it ruined 7 years of watching a show

[apathyfairy]

i spent 3 months watching gilmore girls and i finally finished it and a year in the life and then netflix is like hmm what should we recommend... gilmore girls season 1 episode 1 is starting in 3 seconds

[maddy-ferguson]

the other day my friend and i watched the episode of riverdale where alice tells betty "because i love you more! i love you most!" and we were kind of gagged honestly

[corkinavoid]

A list of things I've done that pissed my mother off, but as Batfam + Team Phantom edition

Bruce: got into a verbal fight and held a year-long grudge at my teacher for not giving me a fair grade at an annual competition, and proceeded to go out of my way to win said competition next year

Alfred: refused to eat her food, got told to cook for myself and did so, ending up with both my dad and sister saying my banana bread was the best thing they've eaten

Dick: swung on the bungee rope over the dry riverbed turned into junk yard, fell, miraculously did not die, went to that same bungee rope the next day

Babs: organized a stake out, found out which neighbor had been messing with trash bins when everyone blamed raccoons, called said neighbor a raccoon for the next three weeks

Jason: kept reading books at night with a flashlight, when said flashlight was taken away, lit a candle and accidentally almost set the house on fire

Tim: fled to a different country across the globe without telling anyone except my sister, who's been 7 at the time, and did not respond to any calls or messages for three months

Steph: picked a dress with glitter for a dinner with her relatives after specifically being told not to, was forced to change, but took my revenge by exploding a glitter bomb in the car when we have already arrived at the relatives' house

Cass: responded with 'sorry I didn't quite catch that could you repeat' to her very long rant, over text

Damian: successfully clawed and gnawed at a classmate's face after they destroyed my painting

Duke: was the leader of school rebellion over the 'no wigs allowed in school' rule in sixth grade, managed to convince two teachers to join, ended up with the rule taken down

Danny: accidentally shocked myself with a tazer I stole from her handbag, cried, when she came to ask what happened, showed her by repeating the accidental electrocution

Dan: pushed my maternal aunt into the pool and watched her flounder, knowing very well she is a bad swimmer, when confronted about it later argued it was the kiddie part of the pool and she could not have drowned

Jazz: told her I was in love with a girl she disliked, when she voiced her opinion on it, made a whole argument about how I'm supposed to learn from my own mistakes and not from her experiences

Dani: zoned out while she was yelling at me, came back to her saying 'you're no better than a pig', impulsively told her 'it's because of genetics' and started oinking

Sam: painted my nails and toes on my left hand and left foot black, dyed my hair purple, but only on the left side, as well as got a piercing on the left eyebrow, while the whole right side was left 'natural'

Tucker: learned to change the wi-fi password and held power over the internet every time she took my electronics away by asking a friend that lived nearby to come by my house and using their phone to change the password

Bonus:

Selina: repeatedly stolen antique jewelry from grandma because she, in turn, stole it from my other grandma

Valerie: turned rogue, teamed up with the opponent team in lasertag and helped them win over my own teammates

Talia: threatened a person I will carve their eyeballs out with a spoon if they ever as much as look at my sister funny again, a month later gave them a decorated silver teaspoon as a birthday gift

Jack Fenton: failed my driving license test seven times, three of which were on purpose

Maddie: ruined her plans of my picture-perfect marriage by friendzoning a son of her friend, claiming I'm saving my love only for the important things like mozzarella

Vlad: scared my sister shitless by telling her a scary story about ghosts under her bed and then hiding under her bed and making 'boo' noizes

Clockwork: purposefully made her experience deja vu by wearing the exact same clothes and greeting her the exact same way in the exact same place for three days in a row

[bella-goths-wife]

How would Pet reader and Alastor interact after he returned from his 7 year long absence?

How would Alastor and pet interact after his absence

I assume you mean in the canon au and not the alastor makes a deal with you au but if I’m wrong feel free to request again :)

I’m sorry it’s not much interacting but they don’t really meet much at this point in the story

Warnings: abuse mentioned, obsessive behaviour

After his seven year absence, alastor did try to subtly seek you out

He lingered around where he met you and expected to find you in the same position you were in seven years ago, a starving little fawn on the street who was desperate enough for shelter that you’d be willing to make a deal

But he didn’t find you, not a trace of the little doe eyed fool he had felt such a familiarity with

So he cut his losses for the meantime and decided that he would trouble one of the many souls he owned to stalk you down

So imagine his surprise when on a random afternoon he passed by angel and heard your voice from angels annoying little gadget

He asked for a closer look and there you were, the person who had been on his mind for the seven years was stood with the Vs surrounding them

You looked different though

You were cleaner and more well fed, meaning you had been able to escape the cold streets and found food

But there was a difference in your eyes as you posed with the Vs, there was a lack of something

Your eyes didn’t hold the same curiosity or passion that he knew of the girl he met several years ago who was so eager to learn more about her abilities

You looked like a candle lit flame that was running at the bottom of wick and was being drowned out and smothered by candle wax, your fire was slowly dying inside you

He demanded angel showed him everything out there that pertained to you, and angel gladly did with the small hope that maybe alastor would take enough interest in you to help you

Alastor absorbed every piece of media you were in and every sound you had created, anything that the internet held of you alastor would consume

He observed how the passion slowly died from your face and the years went on, he heard how your music which was once so alive and inventive turn into something generic and easily forgotten

In many ways he prepared himself to mourn the person he had met, he doubted that there was any of you left to mourn considering the Vs had drained your presence of its spark

Alastor felt something he hadn’t felt in a while, he felt pity for you

He heard of the horrifying things your were subjected to on a daily basis and he just couldn’t stop the sympathy from bubbling to to the service

He was no good soul owner himself, he was fairly abusive but that’s only when he had to correct behaviour

He felt overwhelming jealousy and anger at Vox over how Vox had claimed your soul before him and ruined you

Alastor could have made you into something great, something more than a pet to the rich for when they felt cruel or bored

Alastor was almost ready to give up on you and see you as a failed project, but something stopped him

angel had mentioned your acts of kindness towards him and alastor had to hear of your very intriguing presence from Charlie, so he decided to test you before giving up to see if you were worth more effort

He followed you for weeks on end with his shadows, and he saw many things

He saw how your cunning side could slip out when you saw an opportunity to escape a punishment and how manipulative you could be

He also saw how your anger had gotten the best of you on many occasions and watched as your powers manifested into something dangerous, something lethal

He fantasied about making you into a powerful being, someone who could one day be on a level close to his

He wanted to sculpt you like a sculpture and make you into something bigger than the pentagram had ever seen, he wanted to protect you from the past and make you strong enough to protect yourself from the present

He had angel dust sneak into your room and slip a radio under your bed so he could listen in to your surroundings

He heard you be your authentic self without having to water yourself down

He heard your moments of brief happiness and he heard the many overwhelmingly cruel acts committed to you

He heard your sobs and swear for a minute he felt himself grow caring enough to want to comfort you

So he played a soothing song from the radio once you were too distracted by your sobbing, so it could calm you to sleep and at least offer you the minimal comfort he could offer to you

He felt himself growing attached to the idea of bringing you back to the hotel and surrounding you in his arms like a child to make sure you wouldn’t have to see the faces of your abusers again

He began concocting plans to help you escape, and he was determined to one day own your soul so he could sculpt you in his image like he intended to do several years ago

He had never felt himself caring about anyone this much, he had a need to know where you were at all times and even felt himself grow antsy to see you in person and talk with you like you once did

Parts of him even felt a paternal sense of worry and concern over you in a way he’s never experience before

And he was determined to save you from Vox and bring you home

@lilyalone @repostingmyfavs @the-faceless-bride @idontreallyexistyet @hazbinhotelxreader @corvid007 @fandomaddict505 @buttercupfangirl @ivebeenthearchersstuff @sparkleyfishies @perkypeony @rerarlo

[theatreslave]

Teacher Snape headcanons

Makes sure he has enough red ink at the beginning of each term. Has a subscription for refills every few months.

Actually prefers ballpoint pens but he doesn't want to ruin his aesthetic.

He doesn't particularly like the jars of dead things but they add to the vibe he wants to project.

When he doesn't have at least one detention scheduled a week, he feels like he hasn't been productive enough.

He doesn't actually hate students like Neville, he just doesn't want anyone to die.

The only reason there isn't a rule about keeping your hair up while doing potions, like all muggle science classes, is because Snape refuses to put his hair up in front of students.

Actually has several types of robes of varying quality and shade of black and is a little miffed no one has ever noticed.

Has a spell in place in his classroom that any pet hair that may fall off a student is immediately banished to Mcgonagall's classroom.

The Potions class doesn't have to be in the dungeons but Severus decided to continue the tradition so that he is as far away from Trelawney as possible. (Drunk Trelawney is handsy)

No one but the Slytherins knows that Snape hates awkward conversation so much that he actually wrote out pamphlets to hand to people who come to his office with awkward questions or problems so that he never has to talk about it. ex. Menstruation, wet dreams, the sex talk, contraceptives and Stds, proper hygiene, bed wetting.

Snape didn't used to be that strict when he started teaching but had to adopt his bat persona because he was so young when he started that students liked to mess around in his class and people nearly died.

He notices when his first years get homesick and coddles them from a distance by remembering what favorite foods they like and ordering them from the house elves to appear at the slytherin table at dinner.

He also notices when his first years show signs of abuse and 'politely' tells off their families when he can.

Keeps a stash of all potions he brews for the infirmary in his office for all the Slytherins who don't want to go to Poppy for various reasons.

Strictly applies 'don't ask don't tell' concerning relationships and sexuality and has a zero tolerance policy for any type of bullying with the exception of letting Draco mess with Harry because of baggage.

Volunteers to referee quidditch matches to make sure Slytherin gets fair calls.

Used to brew simultaneously with the students during class to help teach them. But once he realized students were actually stupid enough that he had to watch 24/7 in case they blew everyone up, he moved to his current method of 'here is a potion, brew it now or fail'.

[sixosix]

EPISODE ONE.

You’ve watched plenty of romance dramas with your mama. Most of them are set in high school, but you have this gut feeling that you’d meet your soulmate in middle school. The universe is hinting at it: a perfect, sunny day, cherry blossoms floating around, and stray cats greeting you a good morning. It’s setting up the perfect first meeting, and you watched enough shows to know this is how it works. That is until you take a sharp right and almost get run over by a bike.

but you can get me (1) | hinata shoyo

series info | next episode

You grew up with parents who seemed to have never left their honeymoon phase. They’re the type to stare at each other lovingly, to dance in the street even when it’s raining. They twirl in the kitchen, flour all over their shirts, skin to skin, with giggles mixing in with one another. They beckon for you to join, and you end up standing on your father’s shoes, pressed between your parents as they dance to some 50s love song they know by heart. It could be storming outside, but that doesn’t affect their smiles.

At a young, impressionable age, seeing your mother laugh so freely had you wishing: I want that, too.

“But you’re too young for that,” your father chided. “Don’t worry about love when you’re still 7 years old.”

“You just rub it on my face,” you grumbled. “You’re childhood friends! It’s not fair.”

Your mother laughed softly, bending down to wipe off the smeared chocolate on the sides of your mouth. “Sweetheart, your soulmate will find their way to you eventually.”

Father tried to feed you another cookie, but you had your lips pursed in contemplation. Crumbs slid off your jaw. “Soulmate?” you asked. “What’s a soulmate?”

“The person out there that’s made for you. Like me and your papa,” your mother answered, grinning cheekily.

If it’s made for you, it’s taking its damn sweet time. Your scowl deepened. “Where’s mine then?”

“Baby,” your mother laughed along with your father, and you felt bullied, for some reason. “You don’t have to rush. You have plenty of time—there’s no need to be so worried.”

“What if I don’t have a soulmate?”

That time around, it was your father who answered. He watched your mother pull out a tray of cookies from the oven with that look in his eye. It was hard to describe it, but you’ve only seen your father give your mother that same face. It made you want to look away sometimes. “You’re the sweetest angel,” he said, then turned back to you, grinning, “so I know the universe has the perfect soulmate in store for you.”

And now, you’re 12 years old and ready to take on the world to find your soulmate.

You’ve watched plenty of romance dramas with your mama. Most of them are set in high school, but you have this gut feeling that you’d meet your soulmate in middle school. The universe is hinting at it: a perfect, sunny day, cherry blossoms floating around, and stray cats greeting you a good morning. It’s setting up the perfect first meeting, and you watched enough shows to know this is how it works.

That is until you take a sharp right and almost get run over by a bike.

You scream as the other person yelps and nearly falls over his bike, wobbling side to side. You scowl at the redhead fumbling with his dumb bike. Way to ruin the flawless setting with a near-accident.

“Watch it!” you scold.

“Sorry!” the boy squeaks out, then takes off again.

He’s wearing the Yukigaoka Junior High uniform, but he’s biking off in the other direction. What an idiot. You dust off your own uniform and carry on, refusing to let something such as that taint the beautiful memory of your first day. 

This is the same middle school where your mother and father met. It’s only right. You can feel it.

Then, you see him by the school gate, joking around with another boy. Light auburn hair, freckles for days, and brown eyes that can make any hopeless Shoujo main character melt. He’s kicking off his shoes, eyes screwed shut as he laughs. He just might be the one.

“That idiot Shoyo,” the other boy grumbles with a mean expression, shoving his shoes in. “How the hell did you not notice you forgot your bag?”

“He probably just dropped it somewhere nearby,” the boy of your dreams says with a chuckle. Even his voice sounds as soft as his expression. “I told him he should be more careful now that he’s taking a bike to school.”

You feel your heart skip a beat or two, suddenly feeling a little shy. They’re by the entrance, and it doesn’t seem like they’ll be walking off soon. Maybe you can wait for them to finish? Then that’d give you more time to admire him, but it would come off creepy for you to stand with no purpose by the entrance.

“I-Izumin! Koji, I got—” A thud, followed by an aggravated yell, “—Oh, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I got it!”

Your bliss is rudely interrupted by the same redhead from earlier rushing over, brushing past you to tackle the two boys. Izumin and Koji laugh at the boy, red-faced and spluttering as he pants and sways in place, heaving.

“You found it? That was fast, Hinata.”

Hinata looks seconds away from puking. “I found it in the… the corner, before the turn. My bag.”

He lifts it in victory. His friends clap for him out of pity.

So he’s the idiot they’re talking about. That makes sense. You huff and walk past them. It doesn’t matter if this Hinata is friends with your soulmate: He wouldn’t be able to ruin anything, and you’re determined to prove that.

As you shuffle to remove your shoes, you hear that aggravating squeak. “Hey, you’re the person I almost hit! I’m sorry again!”

You turn to Hinata in surprise, which melts quickly into embarrassment at having Izumin and Koji’s curious attention while Hinata bows about five times.

“Seriously?” the boy with a scowl snickers. “You hit someone?”

Hinata’s face explodes in a blush. “S-Shut up, Koji. I said almost!”

Izumin moves to approach you. You fumble with pushing your shoes inside the shelf, hoping you don’t look as stupid as Hinata’s hair. Izumin reaches out a hand, smiling. “Sorry about Shoyo. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“N-No, I’m fine, really! It’s okay!” you declare pathetically. “A bike can’t take me down.”

Hinata frowns. “It didn’t seem fine when you yelled at me.”

You both ignore him.

In a surge of confidence, you shake his hand and sweetly introduce yourself to the charming boy. “I’m Y/N. You are?”

“Oh.” He laughs bashfully, and you damn near preen at the sound. “Yukitaka Izumi. That’s Hinata, and that’s Sekimukai. We’re best friends.”

“Yo,” Sekimukai Koji says in greeting.

“Sorry,” Hinata Shoyo murmurs.

“Right, right.” You turn back to Izumi. “What class are you in?”

“Class 3—we all are,” Izumi answers happily. “You?”

You cheer in your head. This is fate telling you that you’re on the right path—how unbelievably easy it was. “Me too! What a coincidence!”

“That’s awesome,” Izumi agrees. “We’re gonna be friends, I bet.”

Unfortunately, you have to cut your conversation short. More students filter in, indicating you’re running short on time to get to class. You giggle and kick at the floor as Izumi asks to meet you in the classroom, which really isn’t anything special because you’re in the same class. But your heart is racing, thinking about how you can’t wait to understand the joy your parents feel.

Koji elbows Izumi in the ribs, hard. “That Y/N was definitely into you, lucky bastard.”

Izumi’s head whips around, turning red. “W-What? You think so?”

Hinata picks at his uniform, stained with dirt.

“Izumin!” you call out soon after the bell rings for Lunch break. “Can I join you guys?”

“Izumin?” Koji parrots in surprise.

“Yeah, sure,” Izumi says, because he can’t resist your charm, too, surely. “We don’t mind. Right, guys?”

Koji shrugs. “I don’t really care.”

“Why are you just asking Izumin?” Hinata complains.

You regard Hinata for a moment too long. “I almost got injured because of you.”

Hinata deflates, laughing sheepishly. “Yeah…”

You turn your head away, positively miffed. “I don’t want to talk to you,” because, at the end of the day, you’re just a petty kid making enemies left and right.

“Whatever,” Hinata sticks his tongue out. “Izumin, kick Y/N out.”

And because he’s your soulmate, Izumi tells him no.

“I’m home!” You slide your shoes off, stumbling here and there from excitement. “Mama, I’m home!”

You hear the stove clicking off, accompanied by the soft pitter-patter of your mother’s feet. She peeks from the corner and brightens, helping you with your bag as you kiss both her cheeks.

“Welcome home!” she coos, pinching your cheek hard enough to make you whine. “How was school, honey?”

You hold her wrist, then whisper to her secretly, “Mama, I think I met my soulmate.”

You pat one of the stray cats' heads, feeling pleased when the kitty purrs and rubs its tail on your leg in response. You feel its purr as a tremble on your skin as its whiskers tickle your ankle. This is a good sign. Cherry blossom flowers surround the both of you, warmed by the crisp morning sun. Definitely a good sign.

“Good kitty,” you utter softly. “You’re really cute. You don’t have a collar, huh?”

The cat meows back as if understanding. You reach for the cat’s chin, only for you and the cat to jump back in surprise at a bike skidding to a halt a few inches away. And of course—of course, it’s no one else but the idiot redhead who seems to have a blind spot for what’s ahead of him.

“Hinata!”

Hinata pales. “Y-You’re in the middle of the road!”

You give him your best withering glare. Hinata seems to melt into his bicycle seat. “I am not, and you know it. I was busy with my— oh great, you scared my new friend!”

The cat has disappeared from sight, and who knows how long it’ll be before you find a sweet cat like that? A month, probably. Why does Hinata like to tarnish your perfect morning? Is he the comedic relief of your story? You hope not. You really hope Hinata isn’t a recurring character in your book.

“The cat will come back,” Hinata says, wheeling around you. “And he has a name. Atsushi.”

“Really?” you ask, a little amazed. “How’d you know that?”

“I named him.”

You stand up and start walking to school, ignoring Hinata calling after you. You have no time for his nonsense.

“Hey, we’re not done talking!” Hinata orders angrily, but his voice sounds like a dog’s squeaky toy, so it doesn’t really feel scary at all.

You march on, undeterred by him hovering around you like a damn fly. It doesn’t help that you can’t outrun him because he’s the one with a bike between the two of you.

“Yes we are,” you say. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“You’re so mean to me compared to how you talk to Izumin,” he sniffs.

Isn’t it obvious why? “That’s because I like having Izumi-kun around!”

Hinata drops the bomb. “Well, your favorite Izumin’s sick today. He has a fever.”

“What! Really?” Your plans to woo Izumi today: effectively thwarted. What were the flowers for, if not a love confession? What was the cat for, if not for Izumi to care for the kitten in his home and have an excuse for you to come over? “Oh no. Poor Izumin.”

Hinata emits a noise of disgust. “He’s not a baby.”

“I should buy him food!” What a genius idea.

“You don’t even know where he lives.”

“Yes, but you do.” You jab a finger on Hinata’s chest. Students start to avoid you like a bubble has surrounded you both. “I’m going to buy him food, and I’ll pay you if you take it to him!”

“I’m not a delivery guy!” Hinata growls, catching your wrist to shove it off. What a terrible comedic relief.

A school day without Izumi is a little boring. Koji is funny, but he seems worked up about applying for the soccer club, so you haven’t had much to talk to him about that isn’t related to sports. Hinata needs no explanation. By your side, the girls in your class already whisper among themselves about who the cutest boy in their class is. No doubt, they unanimously agree on Izumi.

Fine. It’s normal for the love interest to be popular and admirable by the school.

Ha! They don’t even know that he’s sick. But you do.

Yet as you list down possible food to buy at your local convenience store, it seems fate has sidetracked. Your homeroom teacher calls for you to ask: “Y/N, can you help me carry these to the faculty room?” Your plans were once again effectively thwarted. It seems today is just not your day.

You’re resigned to your fate the moment you step into the faculty room, so when your teacher sweetly asks for you to arrange them in a particular order, your complaints have died down on your tongue. You work robotically, hoping that no one else has thought of bringing him soup. Who else knows about his home, you wonder?

By the time you’re finished, most students have already left the school. Hinata is also nowhere to be found. Even if you hurry to a store, you’re clueless about where your crush lives.

There goes your chance to impress Izumi…

Surprisingly enough, you meet Izumi again on a terrible day. It’s pouring and gloomy, and there aren’t any cute strays to be found. The flowers can’t possibly work in this weather, either. Why is it raining? Is it someone’s wedding day? Is this the bad omen you were hoping to avoid? How awful.

But then again… You cast your eyes to the sky, eyes fluttering at the droplets winding past your umbrella. This is the same weather your parents say they danced in and decided to marry each other.

“Y/N!”

You recognize that sweet voice. You spin around, water splashing from your boots. “I-Izumi?”

He eventually catches up to you, then pants with his hands on his knees. He doesn’t have an umbrella, and he's soaked all the way. Izumi cracks a grin directed only at you, as if the rain doesn’t matter. It feels as though the sun has risen despite the tip-tip-tip of the rain on your umbrella.

“Thank you for the soup,” he breathes. “I felt bad you had to buy one for me, but it tasted really good, so I’m glad you did!”

“Oh. Um.”

You’re 99% sure that you went straight home after your homeroom teacher finally freed you. Did you magically buy him food even asleep? What kind of soulmate nonsense is that? Lamely, you settle for a: “You’re welcome…!”

Izumi smiles wider, and he looks charming, but you find yourself looking for Hinata instead. You have a strange gut feeling that he’s got something to do with this, but he’s nowhere to be found.

Izumi takes your arm, ducking under your umbrella, and you find yourself distracted once again.

[ series taglist: @lynketa @quikhs @dazqa ]

"“I’m not a delivery guy!” Hinata growls" and then he actually becomes one in brazil... ohhhh hinata shoyo... U silly boy. anyway!! i hope you enjoyed the first chapter of the series tysm for reading !! wow!!!! lmk what you think w/ a comment or a reblog -- it would really mean a lot<3

taglist is open; check out the masterlist to see how it works mwa

[oh-no-its-bird]

"Madara and Kakashi's field trip from hell"

Where warring era Madara somehow time travels first to kid era Kakashi (before his dad died), then manages to accidentally kidnap him, time travels AGAIN to future Konoha, then eventually back to warring era— all of this with a very very angry, very very kidnapped kid Kakashi in hand.

Madara is screaming wordlessly as Kakashi screams back and tries to bite him, an older Kakashi physically cringing and averting his eyes while team 7 watches in awe

It's hated on sight for kid Kakashi and Sasuke actually, but like the mutual respect kind of hatred. It's just hatred for Sakura and Naruto. Damn, even in the future Kakashi is surrounded by incompetent children, this is tragic. (Older Kakashi is putting his head in his hands in tears. Why was he like this.)

Kid Kakashi tells Naruto he's just as stupid as his dad, which Naruto takes as a compliment and also an earth shattering realization bc WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KNOW MY DAD???

Kid Kakashi mistakes older Kakashi for his dad at first and it's exactly as painful as you would expect

(Somewhere in another timeline, Sakumo is losing his SHIT over Kakashi's kidnapping by Madara. Madara is so so sorry he did not do this on purpose oh god put the sword down listen we can talk this out wait nO LISTEN WE CAN TALK THIS OUT—)

Kakashi hates himself but especially hates himself at that age and it definatley shows and is very painful for everyone around bc hes just straight up mean to like an actual 6 year old. Who is also himself. It's a lot.

Kid Kakashi also absoloutley DESPISES what hes become like holy shit Kakashi is everything he hates in a person

Madara genuinley did not mean to kidnap Kakashi btw. He actually didn't even mean to time travel. I'm thinking it was an Uzumaki seal in some old ruins activated by accident and gone wrong. Madara lands in a new place and uses his sharingan to replicate it in an attempt to get back, but knows very little about seals so like 90% of it is guess work and the other 10% is prayer

Kakashi somehow gets involved by snooping and gets hit with his attempt at a return seal (honestly his own fault) and now Madara is just kind of. Stuck with him. AND not even home what the fuck !!! They have to work together kind of but also Kakashi wants to see him dead and Madara is having to physically wrestle him away (he is a demon baby holy shit) <- then repeat that process with his next attempt at a go home seal but like, this time it works!! He's home!!! But also he was actually trying to go back to Kakashi's time to put him back. So. Oops.

It's like a really bad situation for Madara actually bc he has this whole KID now. This kid who hates him (tho somewhat less, after all they've gone through on their little field trip) and Madara wants to put him back!!! He does not want to keep Kakashi!!! Holy shit he does not want to keep this child. But he only made it home on pure fucking luck and he can't risk trying AGAIN and never making it back. But he also can't just send Kakashi ALONE, he's 6! He's 6 and the seal is unstable and Madara doesn't know where he'll end up and look Madara isn't a good guy but he is NOT about to see this whole ass toddler dead because of his fuck up.

When they eventually go back to the warring states together Kakashi is like a miniature Tobirama and people react appropriately

The Uchiha are eyeing Madara like uhhhhh Madara-sama is there something you'd like to share with us.

(Also Kakashi is actually Tobirama's blood related nephew but neither Madara or Kakashi is aware of this)

Madara doesn't really want to just set Kakashi loose on the world??? It's a dangerous world! Kakashi is proven dangerous but like FUCK he's kind of Madara's responsibility now and oh god he has a kid why does he have a kid he's going to fucking kill it by accident and—

So anyways Madara is stressed.

The Hatake are a Senju ally and also fucking impossible to track down or contact if you aren't one of them. They're nomadic and in Iron country, so there's actually 0 chance of Madara trying to pass Kakashi off to them

Madara debates trying to throw Kakashi at Tobirama/Hashirama and run away to avoid awkward questions

The Uchiha elders are pushing for him to be a political prisoner to use against the Senju, maybe Madara makes some bullshit up about Kakashi being related to Hashirama and Tobirama idk (it's not even that much of a lie, I mean, he IS, just not in the way anyone expects)

Uhhh endgame getting peace early by bluffing really really hard about Kakashi being a missing Senju brother?? And like "ransoming" him for peace (Hashirama has NO fucking clue what Madara is on about but yeah sure he'll take any excuse to end the war)

Hashi and Tobi are staring at a tiny little glaring Kakashi like 👁👁👁👁 "So, Madara. Wanna talk about where you found our,,,, 'long lost brother',, you said he was?"

Madara, visibly sweating and unable to meet their eyes, "n,,no,,,"

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 7: Striptease

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky gets turned on while you try on your new designer clothes.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, fingering, ruined orgasm, Bucky speaking Romanian & being obsessed with his wife (yes, those are warnings 👀)

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: this isn’t a typical striptease but I wasn’t sure what else to call this - it’s more of a sexy try on haul with smut. Dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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“What do you think?” You ask your husband who has perched himself at the end of the luxuriously large king bed in your rented villa.

His nose is in his phone, you suspect checking on business back home even though he promised you he wouldn’t work a single minute while on your honeymoon. But as soon as he looks up, his attention switches solely to you, forgetting all about whatever had been distracting him on the device.

One of the many wedding presents Bucky had given to you was a new closet full of custom designer clothes, including that of a swimsuit collection specifically for your European summer honeymoon.

The way Bucky’s eyes widen, desire and lust mixing like twin flames in his ocean blue eyes, makes you melt.

He’s seen you naked basically every day since you began dating, watched your face contort in pure ecstasy more times than you could possibly count, and yet, even now, more than two years into your relationship, he still looks at you like you’re the most desirable woman on the face of the earth. That there is simply no one else capable of captivating his attention in the way you do.

Bucky stands from the edge of the bed, taking slow steps towards you, his cerulean eyes never once leaving your body - not even blinking.

“Uluitoare [breathtaking].” You are still working on improving your Romanian, but by the astonished tone of his voice and the unwavering gaze settled on your body, you’re fairly sure you understand the sentiment.

“Nuh uh - no touching.” Smirking, you swat his hand away playfully when he reaches out to grasp your waist, performing a slow, alluring twirl to give him the perfect view of every angle. Once his eyes have roamed every inch of your frame, lingering at the shape of your ass and tits in your outfit, you lean forward, standing on your tiptoes, and speak lowly into his ear. “Let me put on a show for you.”

With a steady hand on his strapping chest, you press him backwards, pushing him onto the bed. His complete enthralment in your every movement makes confidence soar in your chest and gives you the courage to begin seductively stripping off your blouse button by button.

Your eyes are locked when the light material falls down your shoulders and onto the floor, a soft moan escapes his throat, his bottom lip curled behind his teeth. Even though you have no music to dance to, your hips sway to a rhythm as you unzip your skirt, making sure to provide Bucky the perfect view of your ass as that piece of clothing also drops to the ground.

In nothing but your expensive lingerie, which Bucky himself picked out, you saunter over to him and elicit a groan when you palm his rock hard cock through the material of his trousers.

“What should I try on for you first?” You ask, teasingly turning around and swaying your hips over the fabric of his pants. His growing erection becomes even more obvious as you start letting your hands wander over your own body, taunting him with the sight of your fingers dipping close to your core.

Bucky’s too caught up in the little show you’re putting on for him to even register the question you’ve asked him, but that doesn’t matter, you already know he’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in the sundress you’ve been eyeing off since the start of the season.

Leaving the confines of his warm body, you sway across the room to the rack of new clothes desperate for you to try on. You can feel Bucky’s eyes piercing through your back as you slip into the new dress, and even hear him swear under his breath when you turn around and show off the complete outfit.

“You’re the most gorgeous woman on the planet.” He comments in such an assured and sincere tone that you could never doubt he truly believes it.

Bucky pulls your body into him, so you stand between his spread legs. His fingers immediately toy with the thin material of your panties at the apex of your thighs, pulling the lingerie swiftly to the side and circles his middle finger lightly over your clit.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” The rough pads of his fingers feel delightful against your slick folds, but you ache to feel more of him, to be so full of him you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

As his fingers trace tantalisingly through your core, your own cup his strong, stubbled jaw and tilt his chin up so his piercing eyes meet yours once again. You take a beat to admire just how much adoration fills them when he gazes at you, before closing the small space and slotting your lips against his.

For as long as you live, you will never tire of the feeling of his kiss. Butterflies. Palpitations. Fireworks. Even if it’s just his lips connected with yours, your entire body responds.

“Bucky, please.” You beg into his mouth, needing more than just the teasing pad of his finger against your clit.

He suddenly thrusts two thick fingers all the way inside you, his rough palm flat against your throbbing clit as he quickly begins fucking you hard and fast, curling his fingers to drag over your g-spot.

“Fuck, just like that.” His palm smacks against your clit with each push of his hand, the pleasure so overwhelming, you’re forced to hold onto his tattooed bicep for fear that your legs will give way underneath you.

When Bucky starts sucking on your neck, sure to leave a hickey, and using his other hand to massage your breast over the dress, you know you’re done for.

Your fingers tangle in the curls of hair at the nape of his neck as you can feel your orgasm begin to ignite like a match… before all of a sudden you feel completely empty, clenching around nothing, and your incoming high dissipates like smoke into the atmosphere.

“Show me another piece.” Bucky requests before sucking your sweet arousal from his fingers with lips curling in a cocky smirk.

You’re sure Bucky can detect the disappointment on your features, but he simply squeezes your hips encouragingly, head inclining to the other garments you have yet to try on.

“How about a preview of what I’m gonna wear to dinner tonight.” You purr into his ear before taking a couple of steps back on shaky legs, trying to maintain the confidence in your demeanour that you had in your prior performance and give him a taste of his own medicine.

Your movements aren’t as smooth this time, but Bucky looks just as pleased. At this point you’re fairly sure it isn’t the fact that someone is performing for him that has him so aroused, it’s that you’re the one putting on the show.

The dress you had set aside for later is hanging in a garnet bag on the rack with all the other formal dresses Bucky paid for. Your body moves fluidly as you exchange one dress for the other, teasingly giving him only a sneak peak at your best assets, and stripping off your lingerie panties in the process.

“Wasn’t gonna wear these tonight anyway.” You place the lace in Bucky’s outstretched hand, which he takes eagerly before smelling your sweet arousal on them and stuffing them in his jacket pocket.

“We ain’t making it to the restaurant if you’re gonna be dressed like this.” Bucky’s hands travel down your sides, admiring every swell and dip of your figure in the tighter fitting dress. He’s practically drooling at this point. “Especially if you don’t wear any panties.” His fingers find your entrance again and as if he never stopped fingering you, you’re right back where you left off, teetering on the edge of pure bliss when this time he inserts three fingers.

The salacious squelch of each thrust is telling of just how wet you are. You grind down on his hand, hips bucking and twisting to find just that right angle where every single nerve is on fire.

“Be a good girl and cum for me - I know you want to.” That’s all you want, to be his good girl, his perfect wife, and give him everything he asks for, including all your orgasms.

And that’s exactly what you do.

Bucky doesn’t relent, fingering you and simultaneously stimulating your clit until your legs start quivering, you’re screaming his name, arching into his broad chest, tugging on his hair and walls fluttering around his fingers.

He looks up at you while you’re coming down from your high as if you hang the stars and the moon in the night sky - like you’re the sun his whole galaxy revolves around.

“Te iubesc [I love you].” Even though your mind is still catching up to reality, you’ve heard this Romanian saying far too often to forget what it means.

“Și eu te iubesc, James [I love you too].” You respond in an imperfect pronunciation, yet a genuinely affectionate smile blooms on Bucky’s face nonetheless. You can feel his smile grow when he places a gentle kiss against your lips.

“As sexy as you look with this dress on…” He starts, fiddling with the straps on your shoulders, trailing gentle kisses down your spine as he lets the soft material of the dress fall to a puddle at your feet. “I prefer you in nothing.”

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[fluentmoviequoter]

With You, Even When I'm Not

Requested Here by the amazing @newobsessionweekly!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: When one of Tim Bradford's enemies is released from prison, he sets out to hurt Tim by hurting you. You trust that Tim will save you, but time is not on your side.

Warnings: angst, car accident, torture (injuries to r), based on 2x11 but this isn't a rewrite (for once lol), crying, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 5.5k+ words

A/N: I didn't include a scene with Tim threatening someone like he does in 2x11 and I kinda regret it because it was hot, but I also really like how this turned out...

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“The almighty Tim Bradford isn’t coming to save you. You know why? Because you’re already dead.”

You force your eyes open and ignore the pain and fear to say, “So are you.”

Less than eight hours ago, you sat beside Tim in roll call. You force yourself to remember that rather than consider what Ferguson plans to do to you.

- 8 Hours Ago - 

Your day starts like any other: you wake up, get ready, go to the station, and take your seat beside Tim for roll call. The sun is bright, the sky clear, and Los Angeles is event-free for once. So, it has the makings for a good day.

“What is up with you?” Tim asks quietly.

“What do you mean?” you counter.

“You’re all smiley and happy. Someone puked in my shop yesterday and you’re acting like this is the best job in the world.”

“It is!” You chuckle at his look before explaining, “It’s going to be a good day. Just let me enjoy this one for every hundred bad ones I’ve dealt with.”

“Sure.”

Wade enters, and you give him your full attention, though you never forget about Tim. He’s a constant in your life, and you wish you could have him by your side every moment, not just during roll call.

“Nolan, Harper is back so you can return to your TO,” Wade says.

“That’s why you’re so happy,” Tim muses. “You got rid of Nolan.”

You shake your head and smile before you stand. You’re patrolling in one of the nicest Los Angeles neighborhoods today, so you probably won’t see or hear Tim much today.

“Have a good one,” you tell him.

“Be careful,” he replies.

You exit the room, and Tim watches you go. Lucy walks to his side and stops, aware of what he’s looking at and longing for.

“Let’s go, boot, don’t just stand there,” Tim demands.

“Bradford,” Wade calls. “A word? Chen can stay.”

Tim nods and follows Lucy to the front of the room.

“Ferguson was released on parole this morning,” Wade says. “Sorry to tell you like this, but I thought you should know.”

“He had fifteen years left; how did this happen?” Tim asks.

“Who’s Ferguson?” Lucy inquires.

“Someone I arrested,” Tim answers. “He threatened to kill me when he got out.”

“Oh. Uh, should we-“

“That is up to Officer Bradford,” Wade interjects. “If you want to sit today out, I’ll understand.”

“No. I’m not letting him ruin my life, too. We can handle Ferguson if he’s stupid enough to show his face.”

“The parole board seems convinced he’s reformed, but we both know he’s a good liar and a better manipulator. Keep your eyes open, Tim, and don’t hesitate to call in anything you think is a threat.”

“Yes, sir. Let’s go, boot.”

Tim leads Lucy to the shop, and he's quieter than usual. Lucy hasn’t been a cop as long as him, but she knows what it’s like to have a criminal blame you for the consequences of their actions. She won’t push Tim, not about this, but she has questions about everything she heard.

“Pull up Roscoe Ferguson,” Tim says as he turns onto the road. “Get familiar with his face. If you see him, I want you to know it’s him.”

“You really think he’ll do something?” Lucy asks as she turns the dashboard computer toward her.

“I’m counting on it.”

“Dispatch, this is 7-Adam-9, are there any alerts in my area?” you ask into the radio.

“Negative, 7-Adam-9.”

You nod to yourself and place the radio back in the console. The morning has been quiet and slow. You know you shouldn’t complain; a sunny drive in the hills is rarely a bad thing, but you’re a cop, and you’re getting bored.

“7-Adam-9, switch to channel 4 for Sergeant Grey,” dispatch instructs.

You turn the channel dial and let Wade know you’re there. He doesn’t answer, and you slow at a stop sign as you bounce the radio against your thigh.

“You’re in the hills, right?” Wade asks suddenly.

He doesn't use your name or call number, only asks a rushed question. It concerns you, but you remain professional.

“Yes, sir,” you answer. “Do you need me to come back?”

“No, stay up there. Just wanted to double-check.”

“What’s going on?”

Wade goes silent again, and you repeat the question.

“Nothing, I hope. Just trying to keep everyone connected to Bradford out of the heart of LA today.”

“Why?”

“Ferguson was released.”

“He has 15 years left on his sentence!” you exclaim into your empty car.

“I know. I’m trying to get everything figured out and petition for it to be reversed, but for now, just keep working.”

“Yes, sir.”

You turn the channel back and set the radio down. Roscoe Ferguson hates Tim and would do anything to get to him. Tim knows you're here for him, so you focus on your assignment. The Hollywood hills are quiet this morning, but you know better than to let your guard down.

As you turn onto Tahoe Drive, you notice a black truck in your rearview. He gets close to the tail of your shop but slows suddenly and turns onto Tahoe Place. You roll your eyes; the people who live in the Hills drive like they own the hills. They probably do, but it doesn’t excuse unsafe vehicle operation.

You round the bend where Tahoe Drive turns into Lake Hollywood Drive, and the Hollywood Reservoir comes into view. When you glance up, you see the black truck speeding toward you again. You hit the lights and leave them on for a few seconds as a warning, but the driver doesn’t slow. If they pass you, you’ll stop them and issue a ticket, you decide.

There’s a point on Lake Hollywood Drive where there’s less than 200 feet of terrain between the road and the reservoir. It’s covered in sparse foliage, but it would be easy enough to get to the water or hide in the trees. You realize too late that the truck isn’t slowing down or moving to pass you as you near that point. It rams into you from behind, and you lurch forward before the seatbelt catches and snatches you backward. Steering is pointless as the shop slides into a small patch of dirt. The truck is still driving, pushing your car forward. The driver stops just before you collide with a tree, and you reach for the radio.

It's fallen from the console, and the seatbelt holds you uncomfortably tight to your seat. As you wrestle to free yourself and get the radio, you don’t see the man exit the truck or approach your window. He hits it with an illegal tool used for breaking into cars, and you turn your face away as glass showers over you.

“Hi,” he greets. “7-Adam-9, right?”

“And you’re Roscoe Ferguson,” you answer.

“Bradford, get back to the station,” Wade radios, “Now.”

“What’s going on?” Tim asks as he makes a U-turn.

“Ferguson stole a truck. We don’t know where he went after or what he’s planning to do.”

“We should find him,” Lucy says.

“And don’t say you should go look for him,” Wade adds. “You’re too close to this.”

“He’s not going to kill me, Grey,” Tim argues. “Let me help. I caught him once; I can do it again.”

“Get back to the station. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tim sighs as he continues driving toward the station. The last time he worried about Roscoe Ferguson, you were sitting beside him. Though you’ll never take the credit, Tim thinks you’re the main reason he finally got Ferguson in cuffs. 

“What now?” Lucy asks.

“We find a way to help find Ferguson,” Tim replies.

“Get out,” Ferguson demands. 

He pushes the gun closer to your face, and you raise your hands slowly. Your left shoulder aches from the impact of the seatbelt, and as you reach through the broken window to open your door, you feel the tiny scratches littering your face and neck sting. Ferguson pulls you away from the shop and pushes you toward the reservoir.

“What’s your plan here, Roscoe?” you ask.

He taps the gun against your back to make you keep walking. With your back to him, you slide your hand into your pocket and remove the laminated piece of paper you keep in it. It falls to the ground, and you hope it’s enough to help Tim find you and Roscoe. 

“Kill me to get to Tim? Hurt him without touching him because you know he won’t let you get the chance?”

“Shut up!” Ferguson yells. “Walk!”

Taunting him may not be your brightest decision, but making him mad will make him careless. When you reach the water, he grabs your belt and pulls you backward. Your breath rushes out as your back hits the ground, but you smile through the pain.

“You will never beat him,” you say.

“Tim Bradford took everything from me. Let’s see how he likes the feeling,” Ferguson responds.

He raises the gun to your face and pushes the barrel against your forehead. You keep your eyes on him, unwilling to flinch in the face of death. He changes his mind, however, and brings the butt of the handle down against your temple instead, and everything goes dark as the water blows in the wind.

Tim and Lucy have been relegated to desk duty. With Ferguson on the run and numerous threats against Tim’s life, Wade decided it would be best for him to stay here. Wade watches them from his office and shakes his head when Lucy begins twirling her handcuffs around her finger. His phone rings and Wade steps away from the glass door to answer it.

“Sergeant Grey,” he answers.

He listens silently before lowering the receiver and stepping out into the station. Tim looks up, and his expression drops immediately.

“What happened?” Tim asks as he stands.

“They found the stolen truck. It was involved in an accident near the reservoir. He, uh… Ferguson ran a cop off the road, and they’re both missing.”

“Who?” Tim asks, urgency and panic lacing the syllable.

Before Wade can answer, dispatch reads your badge number in a missing officer alert, and Tim’s blood runs cold. He freezes, staring at Wade as he realizes what has happened and that it’s his fault. Tim never anticipated Ferguson going for the people Tim cares about – loves – and he should have.

“Let me go out there,” Tim demands lowly. “I can find her.”

“I shouldn’t,” Wade answers. He looks to Lucy and adds, “But I will. Don’t try to do this alone, Bradford. Take help where you can get it.”

“I don’t want the credit; I want her back,” Tim snaps.

“Then get to the reservoir and do what you do best, Tim.”

Lucy nods at Wade, an unspoken promise that she’ll do her best to help him and keep him from spiraling. They both know that it’s easier said than done.

“Tim,” you call out when you wake.

“Nope, just me,” Ferguson says.

He’s sitting across from you as he carves a piece of wood into a chipmunk. Your arms are tied tightly behind you, and one of your ankles is secured to a metal pole with your handcuffs. Whatever he’s planning to do to you will hurt you, but it will hurt Tim much worse.

“I hope you’re asking for a lot of ransom,” you mumble.

“You and I both know this isn’t about money. It’s about that little partner of yours and what he did to me.”

“Making you pay for your crimes? Yeah, he’s a terrible person.”

Ferguson moves forward quickly. The half-finished wood carving falls to the floor as he presses the knife under your jaw.

“These whittling knives are small, but I can cut an artery before you can call out to him again,” he threatens.

You swallow, causing the knife to bob in his hand. He presses harder and turns to the left before standing. Warm blood trickles down your neck, and you wonder what he plans to do to you before he kills you. If you didn’t have so much faith in Tim, you’d be tempted to anger Ferguson and trick him into killing you early. It’s a terrible thing to think, but at the end of the day, you’re a cop, and you know when your chances aren’t good enough. Right now, they are.

“When he gets here, he will put a bullet in you this time,” you tell Ferguson.

“You stopped him last time,” he answers.

He’s planning to use you as a human shield; let Tim be the one to finish you off in the darkness. Perhaps that’s why you’re underground. The only light you see is from a small lamp; when it goes off, you will be plunged into complete darkness.

“Stop talking,” Ferguson demands as he retrieves his chipmunk. “We don’t have much air in here.”

You try not to let your shock show, but as you look around and fail to see a single air vent, you worry that Tim won’t make it in time. Forcing yourself to take a steady breath, you close your eyes.

“No, no, no,” Ferguson chides. “No napping. We have to stay awake for the pre-game, and the final score.”

He tips your head back, and your eyes open instinctually. When he sees that, he tightens his grip on your jaw and circles you. Looking at him upside-down, you tug against your restraints. He raises a foot and places it on your bound hands before stepping down hard and fast. Your shoulders pull backward at a painful angle with no room that makes you yell in pain. Ferguson’s laugh drowns out your scream, and he keeps his hand on your jaw as he lays a rope over the back of your neck to hang over your shoulders.

“He’s going to kill you,” you say between pants when Ferguson releases your face.

He hinges at his hip, invading your personal space as he smiles and says, “You too.”

“Bradford, there’s blood,” an officer alerts.

Tim steps to your open shop door and sees a few small, oblong blood drops on your seat. Based on the shape, you were in motion when they fell, and it wasn’t enough blood to kill you.

“Probably from the glass,” he decides. “Let’s move toward the reservoir. We can’t tell footprints apart but watch where you’re stepping!”

“Tim!” Lucy yells from just past the tree line.

He jogs to her side and looks down. She found a small, laminated piece of paper, and Tim recognizes it immediately. Your self-proclaimed “perfect fortune” from one of your first dinners together as P2s rather than rookies. He picks it up and looks toward the water. He’s looking in the right place, you made sure to tell him that, but he feels like he’s missing something else.

“Please,” you whimper, even though you know he can’t hear you.

“How many more times do I have to tell you?” Ferguson asks. “He’s not here.”

The only thing on your mind is Tim because if you stop thinking about him you’ll only know the unbearable pain and the man inflicting it. Ferguson places his foot between your legs, pushing against the chair slowly. It tips back, and you close your eyes and imagine Tim catching you. It doesn’t stop the initial pain of your leg being held in one place by the handcuffs as the rest of your body moves back or the scream you release as you hit the floor, but it does give you a reason to keep fighting. Ferguson pulls you up nearly as fast as he tipped you over, and the rope digs in against the side of your neck.

“This is the best workout I’ve ever had,” he says.

He wipes the sheen of sweat from his forehead, and you notice how hot and thick the air seems. Ferguson admitted that the air supply was limited, so if you start wasting it, maybe he will leave.

“If you call him…” you begin slowly. “Let me hear Tim Bradford’s voice one more time, and I will lure him here for you.”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” Ferguson asks.

You nod and immediately regret it when he pulls the rope and forces your head down toward your chest.

“I’m not letting you take control. This is my plan, and it ends beautifully.”

“I can’t do this!” Tim yells.

He runs his hands over the back of his head and down his face as he squats by the reservoir. There are no other hints about where Ferguson took you, nothing to guide Tim toward saving you, only dirt and broken promises. He told you that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you; Tim whispered the promise in the dead of night when you were asleep during an overnight patrol, yet he’s holding himself to keeping it like it will kill him if he doesn’t. Because it will.

“Tim don’t give up yet,” Lucy encourages. She lowers beside him and lays a hand on his back. “We can do this, but we have to work together. The paper means something right? Could it be more than an indication she was here?”

Tim wipes under his eye, and Lucy’s eyes widen as she realizes tears are streaming down his cheeks. He stops them quickly, but she pats his back to remind him he’s not fighting alone. You’re fighting, too, and Tim needs to remember that.

“Lucy, I lo-“ Tim stops suddenly, though Lucy is confident she knows where he was going. “I know what it means.”

He stands quickly, and Lucy follows him to the place where they found the fortune. The little strip of paper from a fortune cookie has been in your pocket since you read it, but not only for the encouraging message on the front.

“34831,” Tim says.

“Your badge number?” Lucy asks, tilting her head to the side. “What about it?”

“It was on the back of my fortune that night. Hers, though, didn’t have a number. So, we wrote one on it.”

“What’s the number?”

“2 25 12 9. I didn’t think she’d know what it meant.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s an alphabet cypher, but backward.”

“B, Y, L, I,” Tim rattles off. “If she had this, she may have left more clues at those points: 2, 25, 12, and 9.”

“This would have been about 2,” Lucy says, gesturing to the ground. “That’s what, 2 meters from the car?”

Tim furrows his brows at Lucy’s use of meters but nods anyway.

“We can’t walk 25 meters forward, we’d be in the water,” Lucy points out.

“Then we need to spread out in every direction we can go 25 meters… Unless I’m wrong.”

“Don’t question it.”

“No, she would’ve fought. He wouldn’t have been able to make her go anywhere if she wasn’t willing to. We should assume that she couldn’t leave a trail after this point.”

“Then we’re back where we started?”

“Exactly.”

“Tim, what does that even mean?”

“She’s still here. They both are.”

Tim turns and yells for someone to get satellite imaging of the area and the camera footage from your car. Your body cam and police uniform shirt were discarded by the water but the cameras could tell them what happened before and during the initial attack.

“We’ll find her, Tim,” Lucy promises again.

“Thank you,” Tim whispers.

Running footsteps echo over the top of the tin deathtrap you’re in. Someone yells, and Ferguson ducks his head as he moves out of your sight.

“Tim!” you yell.

Your voice cracks, and as you prepare to yell again, Ferguson pulls the rope around your neck. It digs into your skin and compresses your windpipe. Tears begin leaking from your eyes, and after the day you’ve had, you don’t care to stop them.

“Tim, please,” you whisper.

“Welcome to the final round,” Ferguson says into your ear. 

He loosens the rope and pushes your chair forward. His foot pulls down against your hands again, pulling your shoulder muscles cruelly as they stretch to accommodate the impossible movement. You scream in agony as Ferguson pushes you past the point he stopped at previously.

“Did you stop to ask yourself what he’s thinking? Wouldn’t he have found you sooner if he cared? I’ve been out long enough that he knew, yet he let you out by yourself,” Ferguson taunts.

“You won’t win,” you say between ragged breaths.

Ferguson pulls your head to the side to hold the whittling knife against your windpipe, and the cut he made earlier pulls open. Your white shirt is stained with blood and tears, and even as your blinks slow and breathing begins to feel impossible, you trust Tim.

“The almighty Tim Bradford isn’t coming to save you. You know why? Because you’re already dead,” Ferguson says.

You force your eyes open and ignore the pain and fear to say, “So are you.”

Throwing your head backward, you ignore the sting of his knife sliding across the tender skin of your neck. Your skull hits Ferguson’s nose, and he staggers backward with a hand holding his face. Suddenly, you can’t pull a full breath into your lungs. Time has run out, and Tim isn’t here yet. You hold your breath as Ferguson stumbles behind you. He drops, and you see his hand and face are covered in blood. His chest rises and falls slowly, but you’re safe until the rest of the oxygen is used up.

“Tim,” you whisper toward the metal sheet above you.

“Wait!” Lucy calls. “The ground is hollow here.”

Tim returns to Lucy’s side and hears his footsteps echo. It sounds like there’s a metal sheeting under the dirt beneath his boots. He raises a hand to call a few officers over before someone screams. It’s muffled by the metal and earth, but it’s a clear sign of pain. Better than that, it means someone is still alive.

“Find a way in,” Tim demands quietly.

As he searches the area around the hollow spot, he wishes to hear your voice again. Not another scream, but an acknowledgement that you survived whatever caused you such agony.

"Bradford!” Janssen calls.

He waves Tim over and points to a small opening. Together, they lift the heavy steel cover away from the round hole. Another barrier of cloth and metal sheets blocks the entrance, and as Tim digs through, he wonders how much air is getting through, if any. The moment he can see inside the fortified bunker, he pulls his weapon and drops silently into the metal housing.

What was likely meant to be a storm shelter has been converted into a survivalist’s nightmare. A small corridor leads to a wider opening, and a dim light is the only sign that anyone is inside. Tim raises his guns and stays ready to shoot as he nears the opening.

“Tim,” you whisper.

Tim hears your voice and doesn’t hesitate to step into the open room and swing his gun as he clears the small, square area. Ferguson lies unconscious in the corner, and Tim can only see your back, the restraints keeping you in place, and the rope loosely wrapped around your neck and shoulders.

Your shoulders shake as you exhale slowly. When you notice that you can breathe again, you take a deep breath before letting your head fall forward.

“Tim,” you repeat, trying not to think of anything else.

Tim says your name as he holsters his gun. You sit up straight and try to turn your head to the side but are stopped by the pull of the rope and the pain in your shoulders. You hiss in pain before returning to your previous position.

“You can’t trick me, Roscoe,” you mumble.

Tim steps toward Ferguson and handcuffs him. He repeats your name as he moves into your line of sight. His hands are raised to his shoulders, though his expression is pure concern. When he sees the blood, sweat, and dirt covering you and your clothes, he has to fight not to rush to your side.

“Tim,” you say again. Your voice is louder than before but still has an untrusting quality. “Tim.”

When you start crying and lean toward Tim, he kneels before you. He reaches down carefully to use his key and remove the handcuff from your ankle. Your head rests on his shoulder as he moves, and when he sees the damage done to your ankle, the swelling, deep bruising, and handcuff-induced gash, he looks back at Ferguson.

Tim sits up slowly and raises a hand toward your face. He pushes your hair back softly and waits until your eyes meet to speak.

“I need to go get backup,” he says.

“No, no! Please don’t leave me, Tim,” you plead through your slowing tears.

You lean forward and wince when your shoulder meets its new range of motion.

“I need to get Ferguson out of here,” Tim explains. “There’s a lot of people above us waiting for me to signal.”

“Tim, please.”

“Can I yell?”

You swallow as Tim moves closer to you. He stops an inch away from you, with your knees almost touching his ribs.

“I’m not going to yell unless you say I can,” he adds.

Tim waits for your nod, then leans away from you slightly to yell for Janssen and Lucy to come in.

“Help me,” you whisper when Tim’s eyes return to you.

He sits back on his heels as he unloops the rope from around you. It’s heavy, and he sees your shoulders drop once it’s away from you. They drop unevenly, though, and he knows you need more help than he can give you.

“I’m staying with you,” Tim promises, “but I have to untie your hands.”

You shake your head quickly, and Tim moves his hands to the sides of your thighs as he agrees not to leave. He asks Lucy to free your hands and keeps his hands on you as Lucy cuts the restraints.

“Thank you,” you say.

Tim doesn’t answer before you pull your arms forward. With them free, you don’t hesitate to raise them and wrap them around his shoulders. It hurts, and you sob as you fall forward and cling to Tim. He welcomes your touch and wraps his arms around your waist, but he doesn’t touch you, too mindful of how injured you are and where those unseen injuries are.

“I knew you’d come,” you say through your tears.

Tim looks over your shoulder as Janssen and a few other officers carry Ferguson to the opening. He should call an EMT to meet you here, but he can’t let you go yet. His grip tightens around your waist without thinking. When your only reaction is relaxing against him, Tim holds you as tightly as he needs to. Your tears are drying, and you turn your face toward Tim’s neck to speak.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t leave more clues,” you begin. “But I knew you didn’t need them.”

“The paper was smart,” Tim replies. “And I will always find you.”

“He wanted to lure you down here and trick you into killing me. Every time I called out for you he reminded me that we would both die.”

Tim exhales deeply, unsure how to tell you he knows you and he’d never make that mistake. He sits back, twisting you so that he’s holding you against his chest rather than letting you support your own weight.

“It hurts,” you say softly.

“Can you get out of here? Go up the ladder?” he asks.

“There’s a ladder?”

Tim’s brows furrow at your question. How did Ferguson get you down here if you weren’t conscious when you came in? He shakes his head; the detectives (and Tim) will look into the details of your abduction later. For now, your safety is the priority.

“Can you climb out?” Tim asks.

“Not without help,” you answer. “I don’t think I can walk.”

Tim looks at your ankle again, and his eyes catch on the fresh blood pooling against your collarbone. He leans closer to you to find the source. When he sees the cut across the front of your neck, he knows you need help sooner rather than later.

“Hold on,” he instructs you.

“I- I can’t move my shoulder.”

Tim lays you against the metal floor and looks at your left shoulder. It’s out of its socket, but Tim can’t risk pushing it back in without knowing if your muscles or ligaments are still intact.

“Please just get me out of here.”

Tim nods and turns around so your hips are beside his shoulders. He leans down and pulls your legs over his shoulder rather than your arms. With one hand pressing your shoulder to your side, Tim stands and pulls you up in a modified fireman’s carry. You stifle the yell that tries to escape, and Tim’s heart breaks when he hears it. He spent so much time fighting, desperate to find you, that he didn’t consider how different things would be when he did.

With the help of Janssen, Nolan, and Lucy, Tim gets you back above ground. He collapses to the ground but makes sure you’re set down with care. You reach out for him immediately, and Tim pulls your chest to his again. The paramedics are close, but until they arrive, Tim will hold you like he never has.

“I’m so sorry,” Tim whispers.

“You found me,” you reply. “You found me.”

Your right hand squeezes Tim’s shirt in your hand as you hold onto him. You didn’t doubt him for a second. Being in his arms gives you the safety and comfort you need to fall apart because you know he’ll hold you together.

“I know what it means,” you say. “Or I think I do. B-Y-L-I; it’s backwards, right?”

Tim nods against you, and you smile through your tears. The paramedics arrive, and you’re carefully removed from Tim’s grasp, though his hand stays in yours. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to let go, but Tim has already made a new promise, and he won’t leave your side until he’s forced to.

“Where’s Kojo?” you ask as Tim leads you into his house.

“He’s staying with Lucy tonight. He gets excited when he sees you and I didn’t want him to hurt you,” Tim answers.

He guides you to the couch and sits beside you after placing your things in his guest bedroom. Tim refused to let you return to your apartment alone after being discharged from the hospital, and you didn’t need much convincing to stay with him while you heal.

You lean your head against Tim’s shoulder, careful not to jostle your shoulder in its sling. He moves his arm to welcome you closer and tilts his head to rest beside yours.

“It’s I love you backward, right?”

Tim looks down at your hand, surprised to see your fortune in it. He takes it from you and flips it to see his handwriting. He nods and sits up straight. When you turn toward Tim, he wipes under your eyes as if he can still see the tears you cried when he saved you. Your skin is littered with scars and reminders of what Ferguson did to you, but Tim still seems to only see you underneath all of it.

“It’s I love you, Bradford,” he answers. “Whether you wanted that to mean ‘from Bradford’ or something else.”

“I begged for you to save me while I was down there with him.”

“I’m-“

“Don’t apologize. I just- I need you to know I trust you that much because I know you love me. I’ve known for a long time. But I also knew that even if you didn’t find me in time, I would die loving you. And life was worth living because you were in it.”

Tim’s hands rise out of his lap before freezing. He looks down at your neck and back to your eyes before smiling. His eyes look misty, but you know yours are, too, so you decide not to tease him about it this one time.

“I don’t know where I’m supposed to put my hands to kiss you,” he mumbles.

You hold his shoulder as you lean in and kiss him. His hands raise to your waist without thought, and other than the soreness of using your obliques to search for Tim while tied in place, it’s a painless touch. Tim moves slowly and intentionally as he kisses you, reminding you of everything he said and did, even what you weren’t present for.

“I love you, Tim Bradford,” you say against his lips.

“I love you. I will always love you, and I will never lose you again.”

Tim slides the fortune into your pocket as he kisses you again, and every pain and fear you faced disappears because you know Tim will always find you and make you whole.

[furiousgoldfish]

When I was a little kid, I asked my mother 'What does a child need to survive in a desert?'. She wouldn't give me a straight answer, so I had to pull it out of her bit by bit. Would a child live if they had fruit? 'That's not enough', she said. Would it work if the child had milk? 'Maybe'. I kept asking what else, and then she put the dots together, and figured out why I was asking. 'Children can't survive without their mother', she told me curtly. I frowned, not liking this response. 'But, if they had fruit and milk?' I insisted. 'No. Child can't survive without a mother. Don't even think about it.'

But, I was thinking about it, and she knew it. She knew I was trying to find a way to escape the house we were living in. I was 6, maybe 7 at the time. She repeated over and over to me, you would die outside this house. Nobody else would take you in, there's no place for you anywhere else. You would only be a burden.

I didn't like that. I didn't like the idea of being a burden anywhere. But, I supposed she was right, other people didn't need a stray kid.

In my quest of not being a burden, I wanted to learn how to work. In the house I lived in, there were countless chores to be done, but somehow I was always stuck with the ones that required no knowledge or skill. Put the logs over there, clean, carry this over there, sweep, scrub, throw, wash, dig, gather, relocate, hold, lift, put down, bury, shut up, and don't ask questions. I wouldn't get any answers even if I did ask, why am I doing this, whats it for? I wasn't to know. I was kept blind, following orders, up to myself to figure out what was this a part of.

When I'd be ordered to do something I didn't know how, I would be told I 'should have learned it by watching others do it', but I was never free to watch while others worked. In fact, if anyone in the house was doing anything, and I was sitting or lying down, I would be screamed at for 'just watching others work and doing nothing'.

Reaching adulthood, I really wanted to know about cooking, but mother always chased me out of the kitchen if she was making something, or she would chore me with 'peeling the vegetables', which would then take all of my attention. I tried to sneak into the kitchen and learn by myself, but she chased me away as soon as she'd catch me, telling me off for 'wasting resources'. But, as she noticed my inclination, she decided to inform me, in a very clear manner, that I would never in my life know how to cook. You see, I was clumsy, slow, stupid, and would always only mess it up and waste precious ingredients. It was far above my abilities to learn how to cook. She gave me a clove of garlic to cut, and I couldn't do it well on my first try. She told me it was a proof that I was 'no good'. Then she gave me an onion to cut, and yelled at me for 'taking too long'. Now it was proven twice over. I couldn't cook. Everything would be ruined because I was taking too long to cut the vegetables. Also, I didn't know where food was even stored in the kitchen. She would never show me. (The food was stored in boxes in the basement. I would find out years later.)

With a heavy heart, I gave up on learning how to cook, and resigned myself to feeling forever guilty for 'eating their food', which was something my family regularly held over my head. You know, after I helped digging, working the soil, sowing, planting, weeding and spraying, it was still their land, and their food, and I 'had no right to it'. They were careful never to show me how to actually grow food, but just kept me busy with menial tasks that were never explained to me.

I was convinced my mother was a good person, because she usually wouldn't forbid me to eat, and if she wanted me to do a task, she would tell me in a humane way. For example 'Can you do x?'. The other family members had a more crude way, something like 'Why are you waiting to be told, do I have to spell out everything to you??' so her polite manner had completely won me over, I would have done anything for my sickly, poor, kind and generous mother, who was so worried for my troubled self, who couldn't learn how to do anything, or survive outside the house.

Even though my mother repeated through the years, that I would never be able to do anything, and also berated me if I ever tried to learn a new skill because 'it was worthless and wouldn't earn me any money', I would still sometimes gather a bit of momentum and courage, and figure hey, I should try to get a job. It would take months to gather that kind of confidence. And one such time, I announced my intentions, I'm going to look for a job! My mother laughed without looking at me. 'Who would hire you? You can't do anything.' Poof. That was my balloon of confidence, popping and then deflating into a tiny bulb. I didn't think she had any reason to lie to me. She knew me all my life. If she was confident that I can't do anything... then it had to be true. Otherwise why would she say that?

The rest of the family, of course, agreed. My grandmother, she had fantastic stories to share with me about how quickly I would be kidnapped, robbed, murdered, tortured, sold into slavery, you know all that good stuff that happens to every person outside their parents house. My father, who inherited massive amounts of land, 2 houses, illegally got his hands on a third, earned a very formidable salary, and constantly had me working for free for him, told me that it was in fact, impossible for a person to survive out there without inheritance. I frowned because I didn't agree with this, and I asked, what about the people who get a job and move into the city? They were living just from their wages. He shook his head and said that it may look like that, but they're all just living from their family's resources. I was old enough to not believe him. It's him who couldn't live without his inheritance, because he's an idiot, I thought.

So, I finally got to earn some money online. It was slow, and very tiny amount, I was freelancing and there was no consistent income, but my enthusiasm on being able to earn anything, was strong. After all, I had earned absolutely nothing working for my family for forever, and this was mine. I remember securing a big project and rushing to reassure my mother, to tell her that I was in fact, good for something, and she didn't have to worry anymore, I was going to make something of myself.

'You will never get another project again.' Her face was dead serious. 'You were lucky once. Don't count on this happening again'. I was speechless. Self doubt swallowed me whole. Was this only one-time occurrence? Was I stupid to believe it would happen again? I despaired. She was my mother, and she was older than me, and she knew the world better than I did. She wouldn't say this for no reason. Could she be right?

She brought it up to the rest of the family, and they all had things to say about it. 'Online work isn't real. The money doesn't even exist. You'll never see it. Show us where is this money. You can't, can you? And even if it does exist, it will all get stolen from you'.

Leaving me wrapped in my survival panic attack, they went on with their day, satisfied that they put me back in my place (which was an ongoing panic attack). I eventually recovered, and continued to work on projects. I was approached and told I would fail constantly, but even then, what could I do but work with my anxiety levels up to the roof and wait to fail? I had to try.

I didn't believe I would make it, because my mother's words 'you'll die, you'll die' were on repeat in my head, but I realized I would die in that house anyway, so I ran away from home. My mother was worried about me; she was in fact, so worried she called every person who knew me, all of friends, relatives, their kids, and told them about how badly worried she was for me, and how I needed to come back home. These people, well they were all worried too you see, so they had to call me, to tell me that I'm breaking my mother's heart, that I don't know how it feels to have a child and not know if their child is okay, apparently she was crying every time it rained because she thought I might be outside in the rain.

My guilt was activated, but I knew just what to do to resolve this situation. I responded to my mother's call, and she told me too, that she was dying from worry, so I said, listen! Listen to what I have! And I went around the apartment, and I listed all of the groceries I had bought and stored. I listed everything out to her, and then explained how to make multiple meals, I offered proof to her that I had already, in this short time, learned how to cook, and I was doing fine. I was sure she'd be so relieved to know that her child had food.

In my mind we were continuing the conversation we had when I was six. I have milk and fruit now mommy. You said I might survive if I have that.

'Okay, we KNOW you can do everything yourself--' She interrupted me angrily, unwilling to listen to my ongoing list of resources and skills. I froze. '--but you need to think about what you're doing to us and come back home!'

I hung up. Unbelieving. Two things I've been told in that sentence, and I had a hard time believing either. She- they- KNEW I could do everything myself. Since when? For how long? How could she possibly say this, after telling me my whole life, not only that I didn't know anything, but was too stupid to even learn? She knew I was capable the entire time? She knew I'd do just fine? And, she was angry about it. Hearing the list of resources and skills I had, it made her livid. After crying to all these people, and convincing me she was dying out of worry, she wasn't worried even one little bit. It was all fake. The entire time. She could either tell I was capable the entire time, or.. she never cared enough to even tell. It didn't matter. It only mattered that she convinced me that I can't survive. So I wouldn't run. So I would stay in that house, and so she could watch her violent husband, and violent mother in law beat me and call me animal names. While blocking my only possible exit.

Later I found out she changed her story. She was now telling people that I was now 'rich but so selfish I would not give any of my money to her'. It was almost funny. Her perspective of me rapidly shifted from 'incapable idiot who cannot survive' to 'selfish rich snob who won't give money'.

It stung. I had spent my life trying to protect her. Even after running, all I could think was how badly I wanted to take her away from that violent place, how much I wanted happiness for her. She watched me dying in that house and blocked my exit. She threw me back into the hands of violence and cheered them on as they broke me. She watched a kid being broken and told that kid they could not live, except if they stay and continue being broken, over and over again. I got jealous of all of the mothers who helped their kids escape. And of all the kids whose mothers escaped, taking them with. Keeping them safe. Why wasn't I worth keeping safe? But I can't look back in that way. That's not it. There was nobody to keep me safe. Nobody was my mother. Nobody was my parent.

My six year old self reached their goal. What does a child need to survive in a desert? Some fruit. And some milk. And some other groceries also don't hurt. And definitely not a mother like this one.

[nakylvr]

Uhmmmmm, I might need stoner minghao now that I have read your keeho story 🤭 (also with male reader pls, but the reader is clearly a bottom)

why of course my dear friend 🤭 stoner!minghao is so real

— STONER!MINGHAO WHO...

xu minghao (svt) x male!reader

warnings/tags: language, drug usage (marijuana), nsfw themes under the cut, non-idol!minghao, established relationship

main masterlist | svt masterlist

stoner!minghao who wears sunglasses 24/7 even indoors cause he's usually high as hell trying to do normal things

stoner!minghao who is the chillest guy ever when he's high, just sitting in the corner silently watching everything

stoner!minghao who goes and buys the most expensive clothes when he's shopping while high

stoner!minghao who met you through one of your friends at a party to which by the end of the night you were already high and making out with him

stoner!minghao who owns every smoking device possible, he's basically one of those influencers that post on instagram and twitter but without the actual influencing part since he doesn't film himself smoking, but he has a cabinet with everything he has

stoner!minghao who uses his resin with the rig to get himself super fucked up when he's out of bud only to have a bad headache afterwards and wonder why

stoner!minghao who celebrates 4/20 every year with his craziest smoking device (a 4 ft long bong...)

stoner!minghao who gets butter from his friend to make the most delicious but completely undosed edibles that leave you both laid on the couch or bed

stoner!minghao who experimented with mushrooms once and never did them again, he tried watching a show and couldn't stop focusing on all the colors, deciding to just stick to weed

stoner!minghao who likes when you sit on his lap with people around, especially at a party where you're both smoking and he can't keep his hands to himself

stoner!minghao who smokes a blunt while you ride him

stoner!minghao who hotboxes his car and pulls over in an alley to fuck you in the backseat

stoner!minghao who gets more vocal when he fucks while high, dirty talking to the max and constantly saying how good of a boy you are for him and how he loves that you take him so well every time

stoner!minghao who will gag you with your boxers if you're getting too loud and his friends are in the other room, pushing your face into the pillow to keep you quiet

stoner!minghao who takes a while to cum when he's high for some reason, so when you've came twice he's just barely getting to his first orgasm

stoner!minghao who will fuck you in a dressing room when shopping cause you just look so good in that outfit you're wearing that you end up having to buy it since it's ruined with cum stains

stoner!minghao who will overstim you to oblivion just cause he wants to until you're physically shaking and on the verge of tears

stoner!minghao who loves seeing you cry when you deepthroat his cock and he fucks your face, wiping the tears with his thumbs as he makes you swallow every last drop

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 7

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work.

Eddie's classic car roared up the gravel driveway, the engine's purr echoing through the quiet morning air. The sleek, polished body of the car gleamed under the sunlight, its timeless elegance a stark contrast to the tension that gripped the house.

Bucky clicked his tongue, his eyes narrowing in disdain. "Tsk, show off," he muttered. You shot him a sidelong glance, annoyed that he was still hanging around despite your earlier insistence that he leave.

"Don't kick me out. I want to see where this is going," Bucky said, leaning back casually as if he had all the time in the world.

Eddie moved swiftly, opening the back door of his car and helping Charles out. Charles looked like he'd been through hell. His face was swollen and bruised, one eye nearly shut from the swelling, and dried blood crusted at the corner of his mouth. He winced with every step, leaning heavily on Eddie for support.

Before you could fully process the sight, a hysterical scream pierced the air. "Kyaa!!! Charles, who did this to you?" Susan, your mother, ran out of the house, her face pale with panic.

She reached Charles and frantically checked his face, her hands trembling. Without a second thought, she helped Charles into the mansion, her expression a mix of fear and anguish.

Bucky watched the commotion with a detached interest, his eyes flicking between you and the unfolding drama. "Well," he said, his voice breaking through your daze, "looks like things just got a lot more interesting."

Leaving the three of you dumbfounded by your dramatic mother, you sighed and looked at the boys. "It’s already come to this. Let’s talk with cigars and whiskey."

“Yes. Let’s go!” Bucky walked inside, his steps light and eager. You and Eddie lingered behind.

You couldn't share Bucky's enthusiasm. Instead, you grumbled, feeling the weight of yet another problem. One issue had just been resolved, and now a new one had emerged. Eddie gave you a sympathetic smile, his eyes filled with understanding.

You sighed deeply. "The next time we meet, I hope it’s not about drugs and debt."

Eddie nodded, his expression somber. “I’ll drink to that.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍

You, Bucky, and Eddie are drinking whiskey in your study while your mother tends to Charles's wounds.

“What did a priest do to get beaten up like that?” you ask, leaning back in your chair.

“He got into trouble with ‘The Gospel,’” Eddie replies.

You raise your eyebrows. “Who?”

“John Dixon, aka ‘The Gospel.’ He’s an evangelical nutjob who also runs a cocaine syndicate,” Eddie explains.

You’re taken aback, hardly able to believe what you just heard. Charles, sitting nearby with a bandage on his forehead, interjects.

“He’s not evangelical. That man is a liar. His people sell that devil powder at schools,” Charles says with conviction.

You cross your arms, incredulous. “So you confronted them? All by yourself?”

Charles looks at you, pain and determination in his eyes. “I know what those drugs can do. It ruined my life. I don’t want others to go through the same hell I did.”

He leans forward, his expression earnest. “You have to stop him.”

“Me?” you respond, surprised.

“Yes, because you can. You have to save people from a man like ‘The Gospel,’” Charles insists. "If this were medieval times, he’d be the corrupt pope, and you’d be the martyr trying to bring him down."

Bucky, always eager for excitement, chimes in. “This is getting more exciting. Can I join?”

“No!” you and Eddie answer simultaneously.

“I’ll provide you with the guns,” Bucky offers, unfazed.

You consider his proposal for a moment. “Fine,” you agree, knowing you’ll need all the help you can get.

Before you go to meet the fake evangelical, your mother chases after you. She grabs your arm and says, “You have to avenge your brother.”

She's so determined to get her stepson some justice. You sigh inwardly; since you've come back, she hasn't shown this kind of worry for you, only for Charles and Charlotte.

After she leaves, you notice Bucky and Eddie looking at you. Bucky says, “It’s just me and my dad. And I’m sure he’d like you.”

“Huh?” you reply, confused.

Eddie chimes in, not wanting to be outdone, “All my family likes you.”

You chuckle, “Let’s go.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

You arrive at the chapel where ‘The Gospel’ has his hideout. It’s a dilapidated old building, its stained glass windows cracked and dirty. The air is thick with the scent of incense, masking the more sinister activities taking place within.

Eddie leans in and whispers, “Be careful with him.”

“I know,” you respond, steeling yourself for what’s to come.

As you approach the entrance, Bucky nudges you and hands you a small revolver. “Just in case things get messy.”

You nod, tucking the weapon into your coat. The three of you push open the heavy wooden doors and step inside. The interior of the chapel is dimly lit, casting long shadows across the pews.

At the front, a figure stands at the altar, preaching to a small group of followers. His voice is smooth, charismatic—a stark contrast to the malevolence you know he harbors.

At the front, ‘The Gospel’—John Dixon—stands, his face a mask of calm malevolence. He looks up as you approach, a twisted smile playing on his lips.

John’s eyes flick to Eddie first. “We meet again,” he says, his voice dripping with false piety.

Then his gaze shifts to you. “So you’re the priest’s older sister,” he says, sizing you up.

"You hurt my family," you say, your voice low and filled with barely-contained fury.

John’s tone turns accusatory. “He stopped God’s plan that I received. That’s why we gave him a warning.”

Listening to this madman talk, you realize he belongs in an asylum, not leading a drug syndicate.

John’s expression softens into a mockery of benevolence. “I will forgive and forget if he apologizes to me,” he declares.

You raise your eyebrows, incredulous. Then you cross your arms defiantly. “Fuck no.”

The room falls silent, everyone taken aback by your boldness. Bucky immediately grins, thoroughly enjoying the confrontation. “Go on,” he whispers, urging you on.

You step forward, your voice steady and resolute. “Charles was too soft on you. Not me. I’ll wipe out people like you from this earth.”

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[slackerlifewhere]

In defense of Ron Molan

Since I already wrote a post about Deruth, I'm going to make one for Ron as well because I'm absolutely confused why some readers hate him too.

Fair warning once again, if you haven't read or finished the first volume of TCF, please be prepared for SPOILERS. Thanks!

So...this is going to be a long post too. Be prepared lmao

Isekai and Abandonment

Like with Deruth, the most common thing some readers hate about Ron, is how he abandoned OG Cale and didn't seem to notice a difference when Cale and Kim Rok Soo got swapped.

Like I mentioned in my post about Deruth, please put yourself in their shoes before criticizing or hating them. Imagine this.

You noticed that a friend or family of yours, someone who you know for how many years, suddenly changed. The changes aren't obvious. There are some parts of their personality that are still them and some that have changed. What would you first think?

Transmigration? Long lost twin? Clone? Possession? No. The first thing you'll probably think is they have a problem that they can't tell you or maybe they just want to change. You'll be confused but you won't think too much about it. It happened but what are you gonna do about it? Ask them? And if they don't tell you why, would you push for it? Maybe you'll continue to watch and see if you'll find something incriminating but it won't ever answer your questions unless the other person talks.

So is Ron at fault for not noticing this after serving OG Cale since he was a baby (and changed his diapers lmao)?

Yes and no.

He should've asked Cale, former KRS, more about the topic. He should've pushed because he's an assassin. It's his job to know more. But he didn't push because there is some truth to Cale's first impression of Ron.

He cares for OG Cale but it's not enough for him to leave behind his thirst for revenge and completing his goals. And in all honesty, I find it logical for him to leave OG Cale to join Choi Han in TBoaH.

He lost his whole family to Arm, with only Beacrox as his reminder of what he lost. He was accepted as a butler for the Henituse family but that doesn't mean he forgot his past as an assassin. He'll always be an assassin and he'll leave behind whatever attachments he has depending on how useful that attachment is.

He only stayed in TCF because OG Cale was replaced with Kim Rok Soo. He was intrigued but not enough to completely leave his mission. It only changed when Cale got angry when he lost his arm and helped him gain a new one. He now owes Cale a debt.

Before, he owes the Henituse family a debt because they gave him a place where he and his son can hide in. He repaid that by being their butler and possible protector from other assassins or danger (tbh I dunno if they know he's an assassin). Still, his mind is focused on any opportunity to find and kill the organization that ruined his life. So it was easy for him to leave when he first noticed the connection Choi Han has with Arm.

Saying he abandoned Cale because he doesn't care is not completely wrong but it's also not completely right. He has layers. (Like Shrek and his onion lmao)

Lemon tea and Scary butlers

Another reason why some readers don't like Ron is, funnily enough, because of the lemon tea that he keeps giving Cale. And because he scares Cale.

Lemon tea? Seriously?

Some say Cale hates it and Ron keeps giving the drink. They say it shows that he doesn't care about his master and that he disrespects him. And yet, here I am just finding this absolutely hilarious.

Personally, I don't like tea so I understand why Cale doesn't like lemon tea. But I just see this interaction with Ron as a comedic relief and them bonding in their weird way. Sure, it gets repetitive, but after looking up what benefits a person gets from drinking lemon tea and knowing all the mess Cale gets into 24/7, it's pretty tame that lemon tea is the only thing he gives to Cale. These two are so emotionally stunted but that doesn't mean Cale will stay quiet if he truly doesn't like the tea Ron keeps giving him.

He's the master and Ron is the butler. Ron and Beacrox are both loyal to him. He can order Ron to stop giving him lemon tea anytime he wants. He talked down stupid nobles and priests for worse things they did and didn't do (because of Mary). I don't believe he can't tell Ron that he's being disrespectful to Cale as his butler.

If your reason is Cale is too scared of Ron to tell him to stop, then I think you don't understand their dynamic.

Cale finds everyone, not just Ron, scary. He finds the kids scary. He finds Choi Han scary. He finds the Whale Tribe scary. They're OP and can kill him before he can blink. And yet he's very close to all of them.

Ron scares him because Ron is an assassin and is very good at his job. And honestly? A normal person would be scared of Ron. But the difference is, Cale is not normal and he can also kill anyone if he wants to (are his ancient powers and skills he gained as KRS decoration to you guys?). Him being "scared" is him being respectful of Ron's abilities. He acknowledges Ron's strength but also finds the way he smiles when he can kill someone, "scary" (understandable).

So no, the whole lemon tea thing and him being scared of Ron that he can't tell him to stop giving the stupid tea doesn't make sense as a reason for hating or disliking Ron.

Oh, and last thing.

Ron actually gave Cale a sweet tea once early in the novel. I think it was before the war and Cale was stressed with a lot of things, including maintaining the shield around the territory. So...yeah, he shows concern for Cale in his own twisted way.

Again, layers.

___

That's my opinion about the matter. In short, Ron is a human being who can be selfish and dangerous. He's a person who has emotions despite being an assassin. He has his own goals. It's not that hard to understand him.

[noellefan101]

Offline to Online HSR edition

Characters: Kafka, Silver Wolf, Seele, Bronya x gn! reader

Summary: your girlfriend is a streamer, a popular one at that. this is a fic about: how their chat finds out that you are dating, how they treat you off-stream and on-stream/do they treat you differently

"Warnings": Romantic relationship, modern au, streamer au, kissing, [h/c] is hair color, not proofread,

Note: this is the other one that was in the poll if you would like to read the genshin impact version it´s here. and omg i am so tired and my back hurts like CRAZY, but i luv you all.

Kafka

How chat found out: she kinda wanted to say it out loud the first day/month you started dating, but you stopped her because you didn´t want the whole world to know. and she agreed it was for the best anyways/don´t want all her simps to come at you(looking at you "cough cough")/. so she kept it a secret, still teases you about it though. and she was pretty good at hiding it, but then it had been a year or so and you moved in together, in a new house.

so obviously it was going to be harder to hide it, mainly because you lived together, but also because she was asked 24/7 to do a new house tour. she eventually did it, but without your office being in the video. it worked out well in the beginning but then people started wondering what was in the last room/your office/. you were worried about it, while she ignored it and acted like no one had asked about it. that of course didn´t help and only grew more suspicion to the last room. she eventually had enough and started asking you if she could say it, following up with her saying that her fans won´t come after you for it.

On-stream: she teases you, every time she has a chance too, and i mean EVERY time. she normally does that a lot, but not this much. she also doesn´t like when anyone else teases you. you´d say she´s possessive, but if you actually said that when she´s streaming, you would be banned from entering her office for a few months(at least).

Off-stream: she´s WAY sweeter when no one is watching, mostly because she doesn´t have that evil look in her eyes all the time. and then she´s with you so ofc she´ll behave(if you ask nicely). she would also kiss you more passionately than when she´s in front of chat/she doesn´t need chat to spread pics of you kissing all over twitter, that´s why/and she also hugs you more gently. over all she´s just softer with you but don´t tell her that.

she loves you, even more than chat loves her.

Silver Wolf

how chat found out: they didn´t really think that you were dating at first, but just some affectionate roommates. maybe it was because they didn´t think that she would be dating anybody/or maybe you looked too good to be dating silver wolf hehe/. but either way, you ARE dating, you just thought her chat knew already. but when you found out they didn´t/because they called you her roomie, not her partner/you tried to show more affection.

so when you were home while she was streaming you made some food for her. walked in and gave her the food, after you just left a little kiss on her cheek. leaving the chat stunned, she just started eating her food, acting like nothing happened. she asked if anything was wrong and they flipped out even more, like wtf they just kissed you. she didn´t think it was that big of a deal and tried to move on. but they wanted answers, she didn´t care ofc, and didn´t answer any of their questions. after she was done eating and she just continued the stream like normal. you on the other hand was a little worried that she got upset, because you just kissed her on the cheek, and in front of all her viewers. she eventually revealed to chat that you were dating, and they should shut up abt it. only because she didn´t want you to worry.

On-stream: she doesn´t really care if you´re there or not, but id happier with you there. she shows affection, but not much. the reason: she doesn´t want to ruin her reputation.

Off-stream: when she´s not streaming or in a call you play with her instead. she loves when you play with her, wanting to share her interest with you. she does this while hugging you/maybe from behind/and kisses you to distract you.

she loves games, but loves you even more.

Seele

How chat found out: they properly noticed the person walking around in the background all the time/since her streaming setup is in the living room/and they didn´t know who it was other than a person with [h/c] colored hair. they tried to ask about it, but Seele didn´t pay them any mind and moved on. she kinda thought they were joking and already knew who you were/but there kinda clueless and thinks she kidnapped someone/but ofc you´re just her partner and she didn´t force you to live with her. actually, it was your idea to live with her. so they should quit thinking that.

but anyway, she was streaming(like usual)and she was in a call with some friends/like Sampo, Bronya, Natasha, etc/and she kinda got into an argument with one of them/Sampo/. because he wasn´t playing well enough and it turned into a thing of them dissing each other. the others wanted to stop them, but they didn´t in fear of getting into it as well, so they kinda just listened in on it. she then revealed one of his secrets, witch lead to him saying that you and Seele were dating, and not just roomies. she then got confused, and asked f they didn´t know/bc she really fricking thought they did, oh well/the chat went wild. and when she found out they were clueless the whole time, she just laughed her ass off.

On-stream: she doesn´t have you around that much/other than in the background/but when you are there beside her, she has most of her attention fixated on you. she likes kissing, hugging and sitting with you, even if in front of everyone. and she doesn´t get embarrassed about it.

Off-stream: if possible she´s even more affectionate, the only reason is because she doesn´t want you to be embarrassed. but if you gave her permission, she would be all over you at all times, at parties, events, on stream, in front of friends and family... you get it.

she loves you a lot, even when you´re not around.

Bronya

How chat found out: she streams a lot, like a ton. so of course you´d either get home while she´s streaming or just be home in general. she´s very busy so you don´t say anything other than "i´m home", when you check on her after being out. or other times it´s you delivering food to her. in general chat mainly thinks that your just some friends living together, but thats only because they don´t know that you´re dating, and you don´t plan on revealing it right now. maybe because you either were busy, didn´t want to or you were scared of her viewers reaction/but she does comfort you, and tell you that they will accept it/.

the way they knew you were dating, was mainly because of you two being stupid. she was on a little break/since she had been streaming the last 5-6 hours, with only 3-4 breaks(send help)/and you walked into her room giving her a snack and kissed her on the cheek. that would have been okay normally, but this time she forgot to turn off the mic. leaving you to realize that after you looked at the chat, because it was going wild. you both then got embarrassed and she turned the stream off. she was supposed to stream for a few more hours but ditched the idea. and in the next week or so she now had to introduce you, when you were fully ready of course.

On-stream: she doesn´t show that much affection, since she gets easily embarrassed and looks almost identical to a tomato. but sometimes she will do cooking streams with you, and try to show off a little/that would be even cuter if you were a baker or cook, just saying(totally not trying to say anything)/but it doesn´t end that well.

Off-stream: she loves to hug, kiss and cuddle you. she feels so much more confident when you´re the only one watching, so she tries to show that she loves you as much as she can. she also feels safer when its only you and her.

she loves her job, but not as much as she loves you.

if you´d like more of these do request, luv ya-Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

[incendiobrock]

Clout Chaser {Chris Sturniolo}

Request: Could I request a Chris x reader.she has a huge crush on him but he waste his time getting heartbroken by a girl just using him.when he finds out she is just using him for clout it sends him in a spiral.The reader is there to help mend his heart. (Action 7)very much angst some fluff at the end please.

Prompt(s): A telling B they deserve better

Warnings: language, heartbreak, fluffy ending!

A/N: idk how i feel about this one 😔

Chris was never really a relationship person. Sure, he had some brief talking stages throughout high school, and had his share of a couple situationships but never anything serious. He made it pretty clear to everybody that he wasn’t interested in dating and didn’t think he would be interested for a while.

Chris had fully meant that too, that is until he met a girl while he was out shopping one day. Her name was Jax and she quickly became a constant in Chris’ life. After Jax was introduced you started being put on the back burner. You had been friends with the triplets for years and there was no denying that you had a huge crush on Chris.

The crush started out small, a little school girl type crush is how you would describe it but it grew tremendously over the years as you became a young adult. You never had any intention of telling Chris about it, wanting to respect his boundaries and understanding his want to stay single, which is exactly why your heart had shattered when he announced that him and Jax were together.

His new relationship with Jax drove a wedge between your friendship. She didn’t like him being so close to another girl, friend or not. Chris quickly became distant and it was hard to ignore when you would still spend a lot of time at their place, continuing to hang out with Matt and Nick.

As you sat in the living room of the triplets house one morning you scrolled through Netflix trying to find something to watch. The sun gently gleamed through the big windows, early morning setting in. None of the boys were awake yet and you didn’t want to disturb them so you stayed on your bed (the couch). As you clicked through some more shows a prominent knock was heard on the front door. You weren’t expecting anyone this early but maybe the boys got a package delivered. Your feet echoed through the hall as you ran down the stairs to open the door.

“Oh, hey.” You half smiled, looking at Jax as she stood in front of you. Jax looked up from her phone and rolled her eyes at you, “Didn’t realize you were going to be here.”

“Yeah, I slept over last night-“

“I didn’t ask.” She snarked, shoulder checking you as she welcomed herself into the boys home, going straight down the hall into Chris’ room.

You stood frozen in the doorway for a minute before shutting the door. Did that really just happen? Jax always seemed to be bothered by your presence in the boys lives but you had been friends with them way before she ever came around so you weren’t planning on leaving. You stomped back up the stairs and locked eyes with Nick, who was now awake and standing in the kitchen.

“Woah. Why do you look so pissed off?” Nick chuckled, noticing the scowl playing on your face as he pulled a box of cereal out of the pantry. A huff fell past your lips as you made your way over to the table and pulled out a chair, taking a seat and abruptly dropping your head onto the hard surface. “Miss sunshine and rainbows is here unannounced! Completely ruined my morning.”

Nick’s eyes widen as he poured milk into his bowl, “Why is she here this early?” Luckily Nick seemed to hate Jax just as much as you did, something was off about her and you both were trying to get to the bottom of it. You lifted your head up and watched as Nick shoveled some apple jacks into his mouth. Shrugging your shoulders in response you felt your stomach churn. Chris was too amazing to be dating someone like her…

“We were planning on filming a vlog today if you want to join. You know you’re always welcome, maybe it will help you keep your mind off of everything.” Nick offered, shooting you a genuine smile, knowing about your hidden feelings for his younger brother.

“Keep your mind off what?” Matt’s voice said as he came out of his bedroom, his hair shooting in different direction from his nightly slumber.

“Jax.” You deadpanned, stealing Nick’s spoon and copying his movements as you yourself shoveled some cereal into your mouth. As you chewed the bite you had taken the room in the air turned cold, causing your brows to furrow as you looked between Matt and Nick. With cereal still in your mouth you spoke up again, “Why are you guys being so quiet?”

“What about me?” A voice behind you sassed, the hairs on your arm standing up as you realized why Matt and Nick had stopped talking. Quickly, you gulped down the cereal and turned in your chair to see Jax and Chris standing side by side, his arm swung over her shoulders. “Yeah, are you guys having fun without us?” Chris asked, oblivious to the tension shared between you and his girlfriend.

“I’m going to go brush my teeth and get dressed.” Matt said, excusing himself from the conversation and b-lining down the hall. The tension was finally cut as Chris began talking to Nick about the vlog they would be filming today. Jax never let up on the glares she would send you as she moved around the kitchen with Chris, helping him make some eggs, sausage links, and toast for breakfast. It was in moments like these you were thankful for Nick as he stayed by your side and did his best to hold a conversation with Chris.

After everybody was dressed and ready for the day you followed Nick out of his room as he started messing with the camera, turning it on and going to find Matt.

Matt checked his hair in the bathroom mirror, giving the audience a quick spiel about his target thermal, causing you and Nick to laugh from behind the camera. The fans were used to seeing you appear in their videos at this point, always leaving comments when they would hear you in the background.

Jax pushed past you for the second time today, making her way in front of the camera. Fans had started noticing her in the videos too, soft launching her and Chris’ relationship through small moments they had shared in other recent videos.

“Did you already tell them where we are going today Matt?” She asked, fake niceness dripping off her venomous fangs. “Awww, Matt’s got a boo boo.” Chris teased, now appearing in the frame next to Jax as she took hold of his hand.

Nick turned the camera around to the two of you as he explained that Matt had been experiencing some ankle pain for months, and they were finally all taking a group trip to urgent care so he could get it checked out. You felt all of your energy drain out of your body as you observed Jax and Chris from behind the camera, watching silently as she seemed to always have something to say. Even her laugh pissed you off, you couldn’t seem to figure out what it was about her that rubbed you the wrong way.

—-

A couple days had passed and you were back at the triplets place for dinner. Nick had uploaded the vlog for their Wednesday video a little earlier and you decided to scroll through the comments as you both sat side by side on the couch.

I hope y/n is doing okay, she didn’t seem like herself in this vid 🥺

omg did you guys see jax and chris in the background at 12:53???? i’m glad chris is happy !!!

ugh jax is gorgeous i love seeing her in the videos

more jax content plzzz!!!! (and y/n) love them both 🫶

Bad choice. You were agitated that everybody seemed to love the girl that you were beginning to despise. It was almost like it was all an act. She was a complete stuck up bitch off camera, but as soon as the camera was rolling she was the nicest person anyone has ever met.

As you felt yourself spiraling down a hole of despair Nick gently nudged your arm, causing you to look at him as he sat beside you on the couch. He gave you a questioning look, silently asking what was up. Without words, you handed the phone over to him, showing him the comments all praising Jax. Glancing over the back of the couch you saw Jax at the kitchen table, her phone propped up against a candle as she continued her tiktok live.

“Baby, come say hi to my live?” Jax probed, positioning her phone so that Chris was in view. Chris smiled and waved to the camera, watching as the live flooded with thousands of viewers.

Jax began gushing over the attention she was getting, just by bringing Chris into the frame. That’s when it hit you, she was just using him for fame and views. “God, I’m gonna be sick.” You mumbled, pushing yourself off the couch and storming up the stairs into Nick’s room, slamming the door behind you and hoping that everybody heard it.

One of your hands aggressively rubbed over your face as you paced around the bedroom. You couldn’t believe that it had taken you so long to piece it together, the mood switches on and off camera seemed so obvious now. A voice from the staircase caused you to jump slightly,

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Chris what are you doing? I’m sure she’s fine, you don’t have to check up on her.” Jax’ voice followed, snapping at him like he was some sort of dog. Normally, Chris would bend to her every command so you were even more shocked to hear a knock on the door. It cracked up slightly, Chris peering in around the frame and making eye contact with you as you stayed glued to the middle of the floor.

Chris fully walked in, leaving the door wide open behind him which allowed Jax to stand in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What? No more tiktok live? You’ll probably get millions of viewers! People love drama.” You spat, finally not caring about trying to remain civil towards her. Jax stared back at you, swallowing her nerves as she realized you had read through her little act.

“What’s going on?” Chris asked, looking between the both of you as he stood in the middle of your staring contest.

“Tell him, Jax,” You edged. “Tell him that you’ve just been using him for views.”

Chris turned back towards his girlfriend, his confusion being replaced with sadness, “Is that true?” He searched her face in hopes that she would instantly deny the accusation being thrown at her, but she remained silent. A look of guilt played on her face as her lip began to quiver.

“Chris, look… I-I can explain.” She stuttered, her voice coming out shaky and weak. Chris shook his head, knowing there was nothing she could say that would make things better.

“No, get the fuck out of my house Jax. We’re done.” He pointed his finger down to the floor, telling her to leave.

“But Chris I-“

“I said leave!” He yelled, tears filling his eyes, he could barely look at the girl. Timidly, Jax descended down the stairs, tail between her legs as she faced defeat. Chris felt his body trembling with nerves and anxiety, ultimately falling apart when he heard her go out of the front door. A sob escaped his lips as he slowly turned around to see you still standing there.

“Oh Chris…” You cooed, walking over to the broken, brown haired, boy and pulling him down into a hug. You gently ran your hand over the boys head, smoothing his hair. Chris felt like his world was tumbling apart. This was why he wasn’t a relationship person. This was why he was closed off, because why would anybody want to experience pain like this?

“I’m so so sorry. You deserve so much better Chris.” You whispered into his shoulder, pressing a firm kiss there without a second thought. Chris’ sobs began to die out as he allowed you to keep holding him, whispering sweet nothings into his ears. Finally, he broke away from your embrace, his eyes red and puffy from the tears he’d shed.

“We’re not all like that you know. There’s going to be a girl out there who loves you for you and who treats you the way you deserve. None of that superficial bullshit is going to matter because all that will matter is her love for you.” You reassured him, your hands still resting on either side of his neck on his shoulders.

“How can you be so sure?” He whispered.

“Because I love you Chris. And I have for a long time now, I just didn’t want to overstep your boundaries since I knew you weren’t super keen on relationship…”

His face prepped up at confession, a small smile forming across his lips. “I love you too.”

Now, it was your turn to be confused, a quizzical expression playing on your face. Did you really hear what you thought you heard, or were you dreaming?

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, his hand coming up to rest below your chin, his thumb running over your bottom lip. Your lips parted as he traced over it with his thumb, heat spreading through out your body.

You nodded your head, granting him permission to kiss you. His hand gently pushed your chin up as he brought his lips down to connect with yours in a deep kiss. A hum escaped you as you kissed him back, his tongue snaking his way in, tasting all of you. The kiss was better than you could’ve ever imagined and now that you’ve felt it you weren’t sure how you had gone so long without it.

After a few more seconds Chris pulled away, pressing a firm and final kiss on your lips almost as if he was sealing the deal.

Thank god Jax was finally gone.

[kitnjon]

do you have any jonsa highschool/teen fic recommendations??

Yes! That's one of my fav Jonsa modern AUs genre. There are of course many more fics in Jonsa tags. But sharing some of my favs here -

Ephemeral by @justadram

After the game, in Jon's car, he makes the most of the time he has left with Sansa.

2. Freaks and Geeks by @justadram

Jon invited Sansa to the bleachers after school and there’s only one reason couples come to hang out here.

3. just a silly phase by taylocrow

It started because it was fun. Quiet sophomore Sansa tutors football star senior Jon and it leads to more than studying. Much more.

4. Inevitable by @greenhikingboots

Right as Jon's on the brink of falling for Sansa, she complicates matters by asking for his help with a scheme. Take her to prom? Act like he wants to be more than friends? Watch as her scummy ex-boyfriend's ego implodes? Sounds great. He just hopes he can keep his real feelings, the ones he's still trying to make sense of, hidden throughout the process.

5. Pumpkin eater by @kingsansa

“This is like that one movie.” Sansa’s arms are wrapped around herself. “The Stephen King one. With the cornfields and the clowns.”

“Those are two different movies.” says Jon.

For the first time since they entered the maze, she looks at him. “What?”

“The one with the cornfields is the Children of the Corn.” His breath is a visible puff of steam. “The one with the clowns is IT. But it’s just one clown.”

Sansa scowls.

“I forgot I was talking to the horror connoisseur.”

“I feel like that’s something everyone knows, actually.”

She rolls her eyes. “Guess I’m not like everyone, then.”

“No.” He turns to look at her, and something about the way he does it makes her stomach flip. “You’re not.”

6. The Leader of the Pack by @kittykatknits

The year is 1958.

It's the first day of school and Sansa Stark has just met Jon Snow, a greaser from the wrong side of the tracks. Sansa knows he's the exact sort of boy she's always been warned about, but it doesn't matter, because she's already falling for the leader of the pack.

7. lounge act by @cellsshapedlikestars

Sure, he deals to rich kids all the time. Bored suburbanites with too much time on their hands and too much money, looking for a little bit of excitement. They're Jon's bread and butter.

But there is something off-putting about it being her.

Sansa Stark.

8. Spirit! by @cellsshapedlikestars

When the first spirit box shows up, Jon is convinced it was put in the wrong locker.

Yes, he's on the football team. Yes, it's the first game of the season. But Jon has never received a spirit box before – none of the cheerleaders had ever dared to make him one, he knows they were all terrified of Ygritte. But he and Ygritte are broken up now and it's the start of the season and there's a spirit box in his locker.

It isn't the wrong locker, though – no, there's his name in glittery puffy paint on the top, along with stars and hearts and a little doodle of their team mascot, a direwolf. There's his jersey number. And in the center of it all, a lipstick print. A kiss.

9. and it stoned me by @kit-kat21

“Thank you,” Sansa Stark gave him the smallest smile. “And I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

Jon Snow, her brother’s best friend, gave his own small smile. “You didn’t ruin anything. I’ve been wanting to leave for a while so you’ve given me the perfect excuse.”