#less fun to be like Well They’ll Leave Me

[nexility-sims]

🌷

[occamstfs]

In The Rink: Dunks

After moving far away from home Duncan seeks to find new community with the local hockey team. Little does he know that the Captain sees the potential for him to be a new star player.

My little reward for HairyJockTf went a little long so I broke it up into two stories haha! Hope you enjoy this ode to hair growth, jock stink, and hockey! -Occam

The sound of a puck sailing across the ice echoes through the freezing stadium, accompanied by the sound of the massive men racing to catch it. Skates on their massive feet send flurries of shaved ice up in their wake as they zip and turn in shocking displays of brutish grace. When bodies start to collide and fists start to fly in what Duncan Worthy thought was just a fun little scrimmage game he imagines how quickly he would be laid out in such a brawl and begins to hunt for the nearest exit. 

Almost as swiftly as the fight broke out however, coaches call their men to heel and the teams separate. After a second longer of posting up, all return to the game and seem almost playful in the wake of what seemed like genuine violence. Suddenly realizing this is far more a bloodsport than he was aware, Duncan starts backing away sheepishly. Though he was looking for a team sport to find prepackaged community after his move from the south, clearly ice hockey was not the move.

Unfortunately for the suddenly shy Duncan, his attendance today was initiated by him reaching out to one of the players soaring down the ice, Matt King, the team captain. As the burly player turns to see Duncan begin to skulk away he calls his coach to pause the practice and less than a moment later Matt skates to the edge of the rink and begins shouting for Duncan’s attention, “YO! Worthy!” His impressive arms seem even bulkier covered in the thick obscenely large uniform he’s wearing. Duncan audibly gulps, though thankfully he’s far enough away from the athlete that he could scarcely hear.

Duncan isn’t sure why he’s frozen in place, seemingly trapped by Matt’s attention. The skater rolls his eyes as he calls out once more, “Hey kid! Are you coming or what?!” Despite himself he starts walking down rinkside. It’s not like he’s not athletic, Duncan’s healthy, he prides himself on staying fit, lithe. But as he nears Matt it just becomes clear that he bit off far more than he could chew. Even without skates the captain stands well over a head taller than him. Duncan struggles to speak while everything in him begs him to leave with his tail between his legs and never come back. Realizing that Matt is staring down at him expectantly, demanding a response, he speaks up unprepared as he may be, “Well, uhm Matt-”

“Nah nah, call me Kinger, bud. So youse think you’re ready to hop on the ice eh?” Duncan feels his bones turn to jelly as every neuron struggles to heed his flight response. There is simply no recourse but to escape, he’s too small, they’re too intimidating, they’ll break him in half completely accidentally. But he remains firmly rooted in the captain’s gaze. Kinger whistles to the equipment manager to summon some skates for Duncan and the sound forces the fearful man to attention. His shaky hands grow rigid as the older man approaches with a pair of skates. “See ya out on the rink Worthy!” 

Kinger turns and gets back to the game. Duncan’s preylike instincts are overpowered by the man’s words. Though from any reasonable angle it’s just a phrase in parting, they sear into his mind like programming. See ya out on the rink. Pausing to watch the game resume, the desire to leave wanes as he sees the men grind against each other after the puck. Certainly looks like they’re having fun right? Wearing all that protection, how bad could it be? How bad could he be? Sitting down he changes into the smallest pair of skates the team had for him, even still his toes have about an extra inch of wiggle room. Neglecting to take that as yet another sign to back out, Duncan hops up on the wall and then he’s on the ice.

Still finding his bearings he slides along and sticks to the wall. The manager tosses him a stick and the coach implores he get used to moving around on the ice. Duncan sighs and, despite his limited experience skating, finds himself immediately moving with intuitive familiarity. Faster than he can comprehend it becomes second nature, allowing his attention return to the burly men on the far side of the rink going at it. Soon enough he can’t even remember what he was so scared of, excitement begins to build in his chest as he begins to follow the puck from afar. 

From his vantage point he races with a fluidity alien to himself, as if the skates have imbued him with a lifetime of experience skating. Chewing his lip he has a stray thought wondering about wearing a mouthguard which he promptly discards, lest it interfere with his keeping up with the puck. Eagerness to properly join in the fray with the crew of men who outsize him before even accounting for their bulky pads continues to burn within him, he scratches at his chest and finds his tee hugging his torso in a distinctly odd manner. And man, beyond whatever butterflies hide in his chest, his skin is itchy enough that he should be concerned about an allergic reaction. 

But no, no time. He’s gotta keep his mental. The puck goes long and flies towards him. Both teams follow the puck hungrily with their eyes before it nears the man who holds a hockey stick for the first time. He doesn't think as he moves, he doesn’t need to. It’s as if he were made for this. The sound of his stick making contact sends a crack through the stadium that echoes louder than a gunshot. The puck shoots past the men who now stand with mouths agape. He stands tall with pride, seemingly taller than he’s ever stood before. Must be the skates he thinks with a newfound cocky smirk across his face, but as his midriff is clearly exposed, the few hairs compromising his meager treasure trail fluttering in the aircon, it is clear something has changed in the man.

Practice is cut short soon after and Duncan has an immediate meeting with the Captain and Coach. Off the ice the confidence that filled Duncan begins to seep away, certainly not helped by the fact that he apparently threw on a shirt a couple sizes too small. He blushes as the older coach puts his hand out for a shake and his arm goes an embarrassing length past his sleeve. The coach simply smiles and nods though, and before Kinger even gets a chance to vouch for the newbie he’s already on the team. Duncan doesn’t notice as his shoes have apparently inched to fill the skates that were a size too large as his head begins to swim with the excitement of being out there with the boys. 

His shirt hugs his chest even tighter as Kinger pats him on the back, “Welcome to the team Worthy!” Duncan smiles looking up at his captain and while struggling to get his shoes to fit he speaks up only to hear the first voice crack he’s had in a decade, “Ah well, then yoOu- Ah!” His mouth slams hard enough it seems to be welded shut as he clears his throat. Kinger smirks and ruffles the newbie’s hair laughing, “Howsabout you go shave up and take a shower. Wear that tarp any longer you’ll have to peel ‘er off, hah!” 

With that he leaves Duncan behind and heads off to the locker room leaving his new teammate behind to take in his words. Shave? He scratches his cheek and tilts his head as he finds more stubble than he thought he left the house with. Guess it must have been a week since he shaved he guesses. Putting it on the todo list he then sniffs himself and grimaces as he finds himself muskier than he’s been after his sweatiest workout. There’s an audible sound as he pulls his sticky shirt from his skin which convinces him to expedite his time out of here. Still unable to get his shoes off he finds a pair of tennis shoes left with the equipment given to him and throws them on.

It takes a few steps for him to get used to them, despite his complaints to the equipment manager these tennis shoes are even larger than the skates he was given. Though feeling cramped in every other piece of clothing he finds himself not quite minding the room. Hopping in his car to drive home he furrows his brow as he finds himself needing to adjust all his mirrors. His new odor rapidly fills the car, overpowering the smell of his pristine equipment with ease as he speeds off to clean off the stink of his first practice. 

Storming into his apartment he struggles to tear his clothes off en route to the bath. His sweaty shirt gets stuck on his shoulders as he tries to yank it upward, exposing a core thicker, his waist seemingly filled out from the hourglass figure he has unintentionally maintained. Beyond that his treasure trail seems to be claiming far more real estate as it flourishes upwards and outwards, curls as thick and long as his pubes begin an ascent above his waistline as they begin to shade the whole of his lower stomach. 

No time for inspection however as he starts the shower going as soon as he gets the shirt off, grimacing at the clear tearing sounds of fabric giving way. Arms still upraised he quickly turns away from his steaming pits, quick enough that he notices not how his few curls have begun to multiply. Instead he leans in close to see the stubble that Kinger called out. He twists his jaw to get a good look at every angle and rolls his eyes as he finds it as patchy as ever. His eyes glaze over and his jaw slackens as he finds himself briefly distracted by a thought, or no, a memory? 

The rink always brings out a rookie’s stubble Matt- It’ll just grow back. Why shave when that’s time you can spend on the ice?

He comes to before he even notices he was out, his thicker hand scratching at stubble that is thicker, darker than it was seemingly seconds earlier. Duncan certainly doesn’t mind though, seeing his beard fill in more, becoming stubble he can be proud of fills him with a surge of pride, and below the belt something else begins to surge. He smirks as he contemplates whether he should masturbate before or after taking a shower, grasping at his cock and finding it weightier than usual he quickly makes up his mind. What the hell, why wait.

Then his phone rings, a message from his Captain. His cock twitches as he focuses in on the message, “yo worthy sry for not askin earlier- oilers v flyers 2nite, u down 2 come over” Without a thought or second of hesitation he replies “ya” and he begins getting ready to go. Turning off the shower before even stepping inside he remembers he still stinks and bathes himself in cologne, smirking as he stares at his body in the mirror, proud as he sees his paltry patch of chest hair seems larger, thicker than he remembers it being. He pokes at a new weight on his chest and fights the urge to flex his barely existent muscle as every movement seems to have a bit more force behind it.

Duncan pointedly avoids questioning new idiosyncrasies as they begin to pop up. Surely he didn’t just douse himself in Axe instead of showering? Why does he know where Kinger lives? When he goes to his wardrobe he finds most of his clothes simply do not fit right. Button ups struggle to close across his chest and thicker waist. He struggles to move his arms in tees and sweaters as they hug his shoulders. Nothing without an elastic waistband seems to be able to manage stretching around his ass. Throwing on his new tennis shoes as they seem to be the only ones that fit he finds them almost snug? 

Every roadblock causes micro-headaches. Questioning them only exacerbates the issue, while acceptance ameliorates. Throwing on sweatpants and the baggiest shirt he could find, Duncan doesn’t even give himself a once over before he’s out the door. On the road once more he only keeps one hand on the wheel while the other mindlessly feels himself up. His stomach is tighter for sure, with an alluring amount of give. New pecs pop out just far enough for his hand to push up on them, which allows him realize that any amount of excitement will cause his larger bulge to show in his sweatpants. No time to debate how he’ll conceal that from the Captain he wanders up to the front door and prepares himself.

As if Kinger knew he was standing there, the door swings open and the Captain’s thrown his arms around Duncan’s wider shoulders. His thick palms slam into the newbie’s back with enough force to send him falling on his face. Presently each slam only sends more pleasure into Duncan. Feeling his player’s package unmistakable poking into his own waist at the embrace, Kinger clicks his tongue, “Ah excited to see me eh? Hah! Be sure not to lose control bud, need all of youse out on the rink.” Released from the bro-hug Duncan gulps and blushes as he is less than certain he will be able to go long at all without giving in to desire burning stronger than ever. 

Seeing doubt in his expression Kinger’s friendly eyes switch to something far more commanding and Duncan stands rigid. Gotta listen to the Captain. Watching stubble thicken and the once baggy shirt tighten even further on his broad shoulders, Kinger returns to joviality and points to a stack of pizzas on the coffee table, “You hungry bud?” Duncan suddenly feels an emptiness in his stomach and wonders when the last time he ate even was as he feels a hunger more ravenous than he could understand overtake him. His mouth waters like a drooling dog as he mindlessly goes to tear open a box. Already stuffing his face he takes in the number of boxes and asks, with uncharacteristic slovenliness, “Scho, uhhh is more of the team coming or wha?” 

Kinger smirks and stands behind the smaller man, massaging his shoulders, “Nono those are just for us, didja forget how much food youse demolish bud?” Looking at the stack he knows that can’t be right, he’s never even had the need to exercise moderation. The idea of eating more than four slices is anathema, and yet less than a minute into the game he’s already starting his fifth and his stomach demands more yet. Kinger watches the man feast, knowing his newest teammate needs all the calories he can get as his body struggles to put on pounds at a speed eldritch. Shoulders broadening enough to be shoulder pads themselves as chest hair begins to bloom far beyond the small patch that has long made its home in the center of his chest.

Spreading out like a fungus, follicles neglected by puberty go into overdrive as his greasy hands funnel food into him, getting grease over stubble that begins to crest its way into a solid beard. Duncan is unaware as he demolishes the first box of pizza by himself as he is completely absorbed into the game on TV. Reacting to each play as if he were in the actual stadium. His legs bounce with anxiety as the players race across the rink, each time shooting up with more force as they bulk up. His expanding jungle of pubes, discontent from spreading upwards alone, send dense curls to shade his inner thighs before shooting down to cover his calves.  

Kinger moves to sit on the couch, attention solely focused on his team’s growing asset. His eyes struggle to keep up with the changes simultaneously rocketing across his body. Already he hears the elastic waistband of his sweatpants straining, Duncan’s, or rather Dunks’, butt filling out to the size needed to maneuver such an otherwise powerful form on the ice. The most powerful ass in the MLB has nothing on the monumental pair of cheeks that are a moment away from sending a tear through his sweats. Making an uncomfortable face Duncan kicks off his shoes before they begin to tear. Glancing down, Kinger finds he doesn't have the care to finish the job and remove socks that have similarly begun to turn to tatters. Curls spreading down from his meaty calves poke through the expanding holes on his tearing socks. His feet rapidly become hairy fins that would fit on any number of fantastic bestial men, toes surging through the front of his socks as he flexes his feet without thought.

The Captain jumps in shock as Dunks stands with a start and shouts at the ref, his voice clearly deeper, rougher, as spit flies from his mouth in a rage. Beard thickening as his neck similarly expands with his deluge of expletives at the man in stripes. Kinger puts a hand on Dunks’ arm to calm him down, “Hey hey bud, save it for your own penalties eh?” Clenching his jaw the newbie looks down and at the Captain’s words crosses his arms and barely stilling his anger at Kinger’s request. The man’s hand still resting on Dunks’ arm, both men turn to see the growing package not at all hidden in Dunks’ sweatpants as the sound of it tearing through his briefs resounds in the small living room.

Scratching at his meatier pecs he sits down and after a moment of hungrily staring at his Captain he rolls his eyes and returns to the game. His biceps are suddenly constricted by his sleeves so he does what any rational mind would and rips them off. Kinger’s mouth is ajar as he watches the increasingly brutish man toss the torn sleeves to the floor before scratching deep into his pits and sniffing. The Captain doesn’t pay much attention to the jungle of hair spreading out from Dunks’ pits, after all that doesn’t bring anything to the rink, but he would need to lose a few of his five senses to not notice how potent the changes are there. 

Patches of sweat appear all over the shirt that now hugs his burgeoning torso like lycra. But nowhere so prominent as under the still-expanding jungle of hair under his arms, musk thick enough to warrant stink lines, enough to knock a lesser man unconscious spills from his freed underarms. Eyes glancing over to see his Captain cover his nose in shock, Dunc smirks as he realizes how much power he holds. He grunts in his new barbaric voice as his pecs can no longer be hidden by his ratty shirt. Unwilling to hide his pride under a bushel, just as he removed his sleeves he wrenches his shirt off. This was of course made easier by the litany of tears sundered across it by his expanding torso. 

His breath catches in his chest as his pecs burst larger into the open air. Thick strands drip with sweat as they spread dense enough to be a pelt across his upper body. Moaning as he leans back on the couch, hair rapidly covers every inch of real estate it can find, connecting every disparate patch from pubes, to pits, to the scratchy underside of his neck. Expanding shoulders similarly aren’t safe as curls bound across them to meet with the itchy forest spreading up the small of his back. He shifts uncomfortably as thick strands similarly cover his ass, though somewhere in between slamming pizzas and screaming at referees he lost the shame to scratch such an itch in front of his Captain, and so he does. 

Kinger struggles to hide the grin on his face as the man in front of him becomes the enforcer he’s always dreamed of having on his team. He watches as the changes in his mind finally begin to show on his face. His brow thickens to hang over eyes that grow dull to anything but hockey. His iron jaw hardens over a beard that should have taken years to grow while his nose becomes one that has clearly taken more than a punch or two. It’s unclear how many of his front teeth or real or inserts, though something in the minds of both men makes it clear that they’ve seen his own teeth scatter across the ice on a handful of occasions, though not nearly as much as those of his opponents.

Kinger’s chest flutters with excitement as he imagines being on the pitch with Dunks. His own eye twitches as years of playing together begins to fill his mind. He’s always dreamed about having a teammate as committed to the game as he is and finally he’s got a brute enough to carry them to the trophy. Seeing the behemoth taking heaving breaths on his couch, torn clothing scattered around him, Kinger can’t quite help but feel there is some vital piece of the puzzle missing. The burly man’s hands trail to his crotch as every muscle in his body feels the need to give into lusts that control him but Kinger whistles and Dunks immediately halts his giving in, “Not yet bud, not yet. Gotta hit the rink first.”

Dunks’ mind fractures and remakes itself in a moment. Memories of over a decade playing surges into his mind. He remembers starting out a waif, as he was in reality this morning. He remembers hardening over the years alongside his captain, alongside Kinger. Becoming a man on the rink, becoming an unstoppable titan. Maturing into an athlete the likes of which his team's never seen, and with each leap forward in ability so to does he become more masculine, more virile, more of a man. No, more of a beast, higher function giving way to instinct and physicality. Kinger couldn’t be prouder, and until another reason presents itself he can think of no higher goal.

Coach never expected Dunks to be nearly as much of an asset as he ended up being. The hairy brute was always looking out for his Captain’s back, truly a tank on the rink. Often he would struggle to control his urges, on and off the ice, but a look from Kinger would always snap him back in line and empower him to come back even stronger, sometimes seemingly literally so. He never took more than two trips to the penalty box a game despite his ever-present urges to truly dominate his opponents. 

After months of success on the rink it becomes clear that Dunks’ virility is making him a bit of a loose cannon. Lucky for the both of them Kinger has an idea. When an old friend of Duncan’s reaches out to the team to inquire of Worthy, Kinger implores him to visit. While it would be unbecoming for the Captain to have a relationship with a member of the team it was clear that Dunks’ has long been in need of some manly relief.

As he’s drafting a letter with a one way plane ticket to Dunks’ once-friend he wryly smiles as he realizes exactly what the missing piece was all along, their team could use exactly one more player and if this Remy Woods ends up being even a fraction of his friend, there is no way for them to lose.   

Continue Reading with In The Rink: Woodie!

[hikidoll]

୨ৎ ˚ 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!

satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, yuji itadori

୨ৎ satoru gojo

accidentally makes you cry like.. way too often.. usually because he’ll make a joke and you take the wrong way.

dont worry- he makes up for it in full.

while he isn’t the best at providing comfort through words. he’ll apologize through expensive gifts, or taking you out for a date at a nice restaurant.

“listen- i’m sorry baby. i didn’t mean it like that, i swear..” he says frantically as mascara streams down your face.

he’ll wrap you up in a big hug, pulling you flush against his chest. “it’s okay, baby. you know i love you, right?”

of course, he tells his best wingman. geto facepalms, “that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble, satoru.” he mutters, the second-hand embarrassment evident in the way his nose scrunches as he cringes.

if someone else says something that hurts you, you best bet that if you tell gojo, they’ll regret it. gojo can be rather petty and vindictive when it comes to defending his sweet girl.

“i joke around a lot, but i’m serious about you, okay? promise.”

୨ৎ suguru geto

he has a natural calmness that helps keep you grounded when you start to get overwhelmed.

if you’re feeling overstimulated that day, he’ll run you a bath, cook you dinner, anything he can do to make you feel less overwhelmed and at peace. “let me handle it, okay?” he murmurs softly, before gently ushering you back into bed.

if anyone ever pokes fun at your sensitivity, he’ll be the first to remind you that’s what makes you special.

“don’t listen to people like that. they don’t know you like i do, doll.”

he’s always looking out for you, making sure people don’t take advantage of your kind nature.

if you needed it, he could listen to you for hours.

“never apologize for feeling. it’s what makes you human… and what makes you so easy to love.” he whispers, brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb.

୨ৎ megumi fushiguro

he may not be the best at communicating or expressing his own emotions, but he is surprisingly empathetic. most of the time he can tell something’s wrong before you say it.

he’d die before breaking a promise to you.

he knows loud environments can be overwhelming for you sometimes, and he feels the same as well. you two often leave functions early together, retreating to the quiet of his apartment.

he keeps note of things that cheer you up, like cute stuffed animals, or your favorite snacks. if he knows you’re feeling extra sensitive, he’ll stop by and drop you off some comfort items.

“no, you’re not too sensitive.” he murmurs, gently rubbing your back as you sob next to him. “did someone tell you that? who was it?” he asks, his expression turning more serious.

regardless of how much of a crybaby you are, he finds it endearing how you express yourself freely, something he’s always envied about you.

“you’re stronger than anyone i know, okay? don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

୨ৎ yuji itadori

he’s a master at cheering you up. he always knows the right joke to crack to make you smile, the right things to do to get you back into a good mood.

he’s not afraid to make an absolute fool of himself if it means he can make you laugh.

“let’s head home, yeah? i’ve got a tub of ice cream waiting for us in the freezer!” he says with a cheerful smile, patting you gently on the back as he tries to race you back to the car.

he’s your biggest cheerleader, always hyping you up whenever you feel insecure.

he gives the best hugs ever.

if someone upsets you, he is quick to defend you. he’s not usually confrontational, but if it’s about you, he’ll stand his ground. “hey, that’s not okay dude. apologize.”

“too much for me? hun, nothing is too much for me. especially not you, sweet girl.” he says softly with a small smile, before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

he always talks about you to his friends, singing your praises like you’re his queen. “she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. really.”

my four favorite boys!!! things keep pouring out of my brain help. hope you like it hehe :3

©hikidoll inc. do not copy.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twenty-two

Don't look at me I have zero self restraint😭 I am so sorry (not sorry) for the curveball thrown in this chapter and for the curveballs that are about to come (our unsub is devolving, folks!)

Warnings: you know the drill, our usual angst, Rossi being Rossi, Strauss being Strauss, an almost panic attack, dare I say...fluff? comfort to accompany the hurt? from Hotch of all people? y'all...

Rossi comes to find you in Garcia’s lair at barely four p.m. You’re in the middle of watching Garcia — completely legally — hack into some database or another. She’s not looking for anything specific; this is purely for fun, and to kind of mess with one of the guys that works there that she’s old friends with. It’s good entertainment and a wonderful distraction after Hotch’s sudden weird behavior.

“Knock knock,” Rossi says, already opening the door. “It’s closing time.”

“What?” you spin around in the chair. “What are you talking about?”

He taps his watch. “It’s time for me to get out of this place, and I’m your ride, so that means it’s time for you to get out of here, too.”

You never leave this early. It’s a miracle if you’re out of here before five-thirty. But Rossi gives you a look that tells you he is not budging on his leaving time, not even for you.

“Fine,” you huff. “Until tomorrow.”

“Drink some glorious wine,” Pen says, blowing kisses at you.

“I will,” you promise, returning her kisses.

Rossi follows you back to the bullpen so you can grab your things. The team is hovering around the coffee pot, clearly taking a break from everything — you can’t blame them. You’re never one to condone leaving this early, but you want to tell everyone to call it for the night. 

“Hey, there she is,” Emily smiles when she sees you. “Heading out?”

You nod, thumbing in Rossi’s direction. “Someone said it’s time to go already, and I’m without a car, so I’m at his mercy.”

“How tragic, I’m making you work less,” Rossi deadpans, but he’s smirking. “Go get your stuff.”

You turn to do just that, nearly smacking right into Hotch’s chest and spilling the mugs of coffee in the process. Thankfully, he saves them and you both from being covered in cold coffee.

“Sorry,” he says, taking a step to the side. “Heading out for the day?”

“Yep,” you nod. “Rossi’s orders.”

Hotch smiles a little when he looks over at Rossi. “Alright, well, enjoy your night. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

“Sure.” You step around him and go to your desk, grabbing your purse, and deciding to leave everything else for once. 

You’d like to know exactly what the hell those two talked about in Hotch’s office, but you’ll be damned before you ask either one of them. If it’s important, they’ll clue you in. If they don’t, that’s their own stupid decision.

Hotch is rinsing out your mugs when you return to the circle, his back turned. He cranes his neck to look at you as you wave goodbye. It’s a small look, but it’s enough, and it’s…soft.

You’re annoyed that he felt the need to have a private meeting with Rossi to discuss something obviously pertaining to this investigation. But you’re not as angry as you might’ve been a month and a half ago, which is saying something. It’s progress, if you want it to be. Do you want it to be?

You don’t know.

You’re quiet on the ride back to Rossi’s house, but so is he, save the occasional humming to the jazz radio that he is playing.

It’s not until much later that the two of you talk. You, perched on a stool in the kitchen with a glass of wine and Dave, standing at the stove with a towel over his shoulder as he cooks, his own glass of wine on the counter next to him.

You’re scrolling randomly on your phone when Rossi asks, “Do you remember being kidnapped at all?”

You sit your phone down, peering at him. “Is this really what you’re thinking about right now?”

He chuckles, shrugs, and continues stirring whatever sauce it is he’s concocting. “I’ve never stopped thinking about your case, you know.”

“Mine?”

He nods, keeping his back turned to you. “The kids always stick with me the most. Yours was special because of who your dad was, but…also because of who kidnapped you.”

You pause mid-sip of your wine. “What about him?”

“Well, because we don’t know who it was,” Rossi continues. “That isn’t typical. Usually it’s a family member, or a family friend, or at the very least, we catch them when we find the kid. But not with yours. We have no idea who it was, to this day, and you never saw his face, did you?”

You shake your head, even though Rossi isn’t facing you. “I never did.”

He hums.

“What are you thinking?” you press.

He shakes his head again, turning around to look at you while the sauce simmers for a moment. “I’m not sure.”

You shift on the stool, leaning onto the counter on your elbows. “Have you really been thinking about it all this time?”

He nods seriously. “It’s hard not to. Of course, I’ve thought about it more since everything has been happening.”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah, me too. Hard not to rehash it all when it’s coming back to haunt me like this.”

Rossi smiles, a bit sadly. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We’ll have to,” you say. “We have no choice, and something tells me the unsub is getting close to making himself known.”

“Gut feeling?”

You nod. “A bad one.” You don’t want to let that admission linger in the air for a second longer, so you quickly change subjects. “By the way, Hotch will be staying here for the weekend.” You pause. “For security.”

You don’t miss the way Rossi’s lips tug into a smirk that he quickly tries to hide with a nod. “That’s a good idea.”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes, it is.”

“I assume this means the two of you are on…better terms now?”

You roll your eyes. “We’re no longer arguing at every turn, if that’s what you mean. But don’t think I’ve forgotten about him going behind my back— or the sudden private discussion with you today.”

“Ah, that.” Rossi’s eyebrows raise as he turns back to the sauce on the stove. “I told him he could’ve timed that better.”

“Or just asked whatever it was right there,” you argue. “What was so important that I couldn’t hear it?”

Rossi shakes his head. “It was nothing.”

“So now you’re lying to me.”

You see his shoulders rise and fall with his deep breath.

“Dave,” you try again. “Please, I’m serious.” He still doesn’t turn around. “There’s so much going on with this that we don’t know, the biggest part being that we still don’t know exactly why the unsub is targeting me— I can’t stand any more secrets.”

You can practically hear the battle going on in Rossi’s mind as he keeps his back turned, idly stirring the pot and waiting.

Waiting. Sighing. Waiting.

“He asked me about your kidnapping,” Rossi finally says. “Because everything that has happened has mirrored your life, including Lila’s kidnapping, and— She did see her kidnapper’s face.”

You don’t get it. “And?”

Rossi turns slowly, watching you carefully. “Are you sure the man who kidnapped you didn’t show you his face?”

“Yes,” you answer automatically, and Rossi’s gaze doesn’t waver. “What are you trying to say? Even if he did, it was twenty years ago. How would I remember?”

“No, you’re right,” Rossi says. “Memories can be fickle at best, even worse when they’re two decades old.”

“Exactly.”

“But some things stick with you,” he continues. “And I haven’t stopped thinking about how calm you were when we found you. Do you even remember how we found you?”

You open your mouth to answer, but your mind comes up blank. It’s like one minute you were at the bus stop that afternoon, the next you were speaking to a younger Rossi in the police precinct while your mom and dad were in separate rooms just across from you. You had a feeling in that moment that your life was about to change drastically. You just didn’t know how. You remember getting to say goodbye to your dad, but only for one second, before your mom pulled you away.

“How did you find me?” you ask quietly.

Rossi’s face softens. “It was similar to Lila. We were patrolling the area and you waved us down.”

“I did?”

“You were just walking,” Dave recalls, somewhat in disbelief. “You were in the same clothes, but they didn’t look dirty. You didn’t look dirty or uncared for.”

“He had given me other clothes,” you blurt, short flashes of memory rushing back. “And let me shower. I remember the bathroom had a lock on it, on the inside, like one of those bars on bathroom stalls, because that was why I felt safe to actually shower, knowing it was locked.” You pause, swirling your wine and staring at the liquid as it whirls. “But I remember he told me to put that outfit back on, the one I was wearing that day. So I’d match the description the police had put out for me.”

“He told you that?”

You nod slowly. “I didn’t question it, I just put them on and…next thing I knew I was walking down the road and saw a police car coming toward me.” You look back up at him, a tiny memory coming back, your eyebrows furrowing. “You were in it.”

“I was,” Dave confirms. “I was patrolling with an officer when I spotted you.”

You take a deep breath. “Do you think he — the unsub — knows that you were at the BAU then, too?”

“I don’t know,” Rossi admits. “Maybe. But he hasn’t seemed to target me. That could just mean he’s not interested in me, not that he doesn’t see the connection, though.”

“Right.”

“We can talk more about it tomorrow,” Rossi says after a too-long moment of silence from you. He turns the sauce off and puts a lid on it. “Come here, I’m showing you how to make pasta.”

You perk up. “From scratch?”

He looks mortified that you’d even imply otherwise.

+++

You try not to let what Rossi talked to you about earlier keep you up that night, but it’s easier said than done. 

You do choose to sleep in a different guest room, this one further away but still on the same floor as Rossi’s room. You know he has the best security system money can buy, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t paranoid. It’s hard not to be.

As a result, you barely sleep, and it’s clear on your face the next morning. Rossi is kind enough not to mention it or try to keep you from going into the office as late as lunchtime again. He does stop by a cafe to get you both fancy coffees — that you’ll admit does taste heavenly — but you’re in the office just a few minutes after your normal time.

Just in time to see everyone’s worried faces in the bullpen.

“Um…” You drop your purse on your desk, looking around. Everyone is down here. Even Hotch. No one is sitting. Everyone looks…scared. “Anyone want to tell me what’s going on?”

“We have a mystery meeting with Strauss,” Emily says.

“In about five minutes,” Morgan adds, glancing down at his watch.

Reid grimaces.

“I think I know what she’s going to tell us,” Hotch says quietly. 

Your eyes snap to his. “What?”

To his credit, he opens his mouth to reply, but he doesn’t get that far. Strauss breezes through the glass doors five minutes too soon, halting when she notices everyone huddled around the desks.

“Conference room, now, please,” she says, raising her eyebrows at all of you. “We aren’t having this discussion out in the open.”

That sends your panic spiking. “What’s going on?”

“Please,” Strauss gestures again to the round table room just up the stairs. “Everyone, now.”

You leave your coffee on your desk, deciding to lead the way since everyone else seems frozen in place. You have no idea what could come out of Strauss’s mouth next, not with how unpredictable everything has been as of late.

You take a seat at the table and everyone follows suit, with Hotch to your right and Morgan to your left. 

Strauss enters last and shuts the door — both doors — and draws the blinds. She paces to the front of the room, standing in front of the screen. She doesn’t sit.

“I will save you all the agony of wondering whether or not I know what you’ve been doing,” she begins, her eyes landing on you. “I may be absent from this department at the best of times, but I am not oblivious. I haven’t stopped it because I thought it might prove useful, and I was right.”

“Where is this going?” Reid blurts out.

Strauss pauses her pacing to clasp her hands together. “Richard Monroe has escaped from prison. He is now a missing person.”

You freeze. Hotch tenses beside you, his arm reaching slightly across the table, just barely inching into your space. 

“When did this happen?” Morgan asks.

“Sometime this morning between one and five a.m.,” Strauss replies. “I was notified when I arrived this morning.”

You aren’t sure if you can or can’t breathe. You don’t know what’s going on — not with Richard Monroe, not with any of it. Hotch’s hand is just barely in front of you on the table, and you have the urge to grasp it, to hold onto his arm for some sort of stability, but you don’t. You lean back in your chair, putting some distance between the two of you, as much as you can.

“I know you’ve been investigating the recent cases and their connections as an additional priority, but as of right now, I want it to be your first priority.” Strauss locks eyes with each of you, ending last on you. “I understand this might all connect back to you.”

You nod slowly. “We think it might have something to do with my father, ma’am.”

“So you’ve told them,” Strauss notes. “Understood. Well, I want to be briefed on everything you’ve discovered thus far, and any new leads you think you might have.”

“You’ll want to sit down, then,” Rossi says, standing to pull a chair out for Strauss. “This will take a while.” 

You relay everything to Strauss, everyone chiming in at certain points to fill in each missing piece until she has the full picture.

Once you’ve finished, Strauss nods once, firm. She looks at you. “Normally, in circumstances like these, I might ask that you relieve yourself of your duties for this case.”

You hold your breath, expecting her to do just that.

“I will not be doing that, for now,” she finishes. “Don’t make me regret that decision.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Your top priority is this investigation,” Strauss reiterates. “I will be coordinating with the authorities to receive updates about Richard Monroe’s whereabouts, but until then, get to the bottom of this. Quickly.”

“Yes ma’am,” Morgan says. “We will.”

“Good,” Strauss says, standing to her feet. “Now, unfortunately, this isn’t my only important meeting of the day, so I need to get back upstairs.”

Rossi stands to open the door for her, and he follows her out, shutting the door behind him.

You stare blankly at the table before you, your mind still reeling beyond comparison. Richard Monroe broke out of prison? He’s missing? None of this makes sense. How did he get past the prison guards? How did he not get stopped somehow on the grounds on the way out? How did he just disappear?

“Hey,” Hotch’s voice is soft beside you, and you blink up at him. He nods in the direction of the door, you think. “Come on.”

You nod, feeling almost outside of your body as you stand, placing your hand in Hotch’s when he offers it to you. You feel the team watching the two of you, especially now that you’re hand-in-hand, leaving the room to head to his office. But you don’t care.

You don’t let go of his hand until you’re in his office, leaving him to shut the door as you collapse down onto the couch. You hear him shut the door and close the blinds, giving you some privacy.

“Can I get you anything?” you hear Aaron asking. “Water?”

You shake your head.

“Can you breathe?”

You nod.

Aaron sighs deeply, sounding relieved, sitting down in the chair next to the couch, clasping his hands together. He waits.

“What are we supposed to do?” you whisper, keeping your eyes trained on the floor. “How are we supposed to find him if he got past the guards and disappeared into thin air?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god, it’s not your fault,” you laugh, just from the absurdness of it all, dropping your head into your hands. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

“No,” Aaron says immediately, turning his body toward you. “This is not your fault.”

“How is it not?” you cry, lifting your head, your eyes wide when you stare at him incredulously. “This is all related to my father—”

“Which does not make it your fault,” Aaron interrupts, leaning closer to you. He might as well move to the couch, but he won’t. Not unless you tell him to.

You lean your head back, staring up at the ceiling. “I never should’ve joined the FBI. I should’ve listened to my mom, I should’ve done something else with my life, I should’ve never let this— let him consume my life like this, I—”

Hotch is next to you in an instant, acting against his better judgement and grabbing your hands. “Listen to me— Look at me.”

You stop your rambling, your eyes darting to him. You don’t move an inch away from him, though.

“It’s not your fault,” Hotch repeats. “What your father did, and everything that has happened as a consequence, is not your fault. You joining the FBI, following this path, does not mean you brought this all on yourself.”

“It means that I didn’t even try to stop it,” you whisper. “I could’ve kept running. I could’ve chosen some other life, changed my name again— Instead of just walking right into this. It feels like my whole life I’ve been walking into a trap and I didn’t even realize it and now it’s too late.”

Hotch says nothing for a moment, his brown eyes swimming as he scans your entire face, squeezing your hands. He shakes his head finally, slowly. “You wouldn’t be yourself, if you weren’t here. You’re doing what you’re passionate about.”

“Passion isn’t always a good thing,” you suck in a deep breath. You let your head drop, resting your forehead just barely on his shoulder. “It certainly doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“I know,” Aaron whispers, still holding onto you. It’s the closest you two have ever been, the closest you’ve let him get, and he’s not moving. Not unless you tell him to. “I know.”

[potato-lord-but-not]

Around 8 months ago (I can't believe its been that long either) you answered an ask about what Arthur Lester and his 3 bf's ideal positions were (top/bottom/switch), and, just out of curiosity, have you changed your mind at all about your answers? Or is John still a top, Oscar still a bottom, and Noel & Arthur both switches?

ITS BEEN THAT LONG ?!?!!?! good god oufghc anyway anyway- I think that has changed a bit and I’ll put my ramblings under cut bc well. there’s probably a bit more detail than you want out on your tumblr dash

okay Arthur hasn’t changed, he’s still a switch in my heart. I think John is still mainly a top, but he dabbles in switching positions. Like if someone realllllyyyy wants to top he’ll be like “okay :)”

Noel is definitely just a top, and he tried being the bottom once and was content to not try it again (even if Oscar was patient and gentle). Although he does top, he’s not much for penetrative sex. He has some problems getting like, physically aroused (also aforementioned preferences- he’s a bit of a voyeur, he’s got those monsterfucker tendencies, whatever the fuck he and the butcher had going on) and therefore likes to get creative with it. He definitely likes to have a bit of control during sex, not being possessive but just being in the lead.

Oscar is mainly still a bottom but I think he can switch it up if he wants because he’s hot like that. Im pretty sure this might directly contradict my earlier statements, b u t- it took him a while to be comfortable being the top, because he’s had very negative connotations with that position. He didn’t like the idea of the power imbalance during sex it could make, and that he’d be the one creating it. With enough patience tho he was willing to give it go with someone he trusted (Noel probably, and although that didn’t do much for Noel he was still great at giving pointers). Annddd I think that’s why I like bottom John and top Oscar together bc they’re going against their usual preferences and trusting the other to give them something they don’t usually get.

I feel bad for writing whole paragraphs for Noel and Oscar and jarthur just gets to share a single sentence um OOPS- uhhh o k a y

John! a switch with top preferences! he gets really aggressive with Arthur but that’s just because Arthur matches his energy. I think he also talks a lot during sex, mainly giving affirmations and praise. With Noel tho- if he’s still human then they’re just having a teasing match. Noel likes to bring out the flirt and get under John’s skin, and John is trying so hard to keep up without just being an ass. Monster John and Noel tho? all bets are off and they’re getting real freaky with it. John still makes sure to be careful and check in often incase he does something that might hurt Noel. And Noel’s like sweetheart I don’t caarrrrreeee pleaassseeee get those tendrils around me. And with Oscar he’s verrrryyyyy careful. Like he could most definitely get more rough with him, but he doesn’t want to do something wrong and have Oscar never want to be near him again. So he’s real gentle, placing more emphasis on foreplay and closeness than actual sex.

and Arthur! the guy I think about the least somehow! sorry king! a switch that is a horny little freak at heart. He’s up for a lot of things and will be down to try anything if his partner thinks they’ll like it. He’s definitely got more of a dominant personality, and I think that’s verryyy evident with, surprise surprise, Parker! Those two had some wweiirrdddd dynamics going on and thought of flirting and sex like some kinda secret game they both wanted to win. Arthur gets manipulative sometimes, but only if he knows the other person would enjoy it. I think since he’s aro, he’s got less romantic attachment to sex, and thus just really likes having sex to unwind or have some fun.

OUG I RAMBLED TOO HARD SORRY I’ll leave

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Happy weekend.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The car comes to a stop. It takes you a minute to notice as you reel yourself back to reality. You blink through the tinted window as Merv turns the music down; a song about glory days or something. 

“Here we are,” he announces and cranes to look back at you, “have fun, miss.” 

“Have fun...” you whisper to yourself in confusion, “what? Where do I go?” 

He laughs, not mockingly, and he points through the window, “well, you’ll want to go into that restaurant and give them Mr. Barnes’ name. They’ll sort you out, I’m sure.” 

“Oh,” your brows draw together. A restaurant. What? 

You undo your seatbelt hesitantly and peer out through the glass again. This is strange. You’ve only had a few interviews and most of them were in cramped backrooms or closets. You pull the handle and let yourself out, thanking Merv before you step up on the curb. 

You shut the car door and hook your bag over your shoulder. You stare up at the restaurant’s marquee. It’s a bistro of some sort. Upscale by your measure, thought you have little experience beyond chain joints and fast food. The white facade with its tall windows is intimidating as you approach the entrance. 

As you step inside, you’re all but assured that you don’t belong. A woman greets you with a pearly smile, her hair in a wispy bun, as she sports a flowery white dress. You look back and forth as she cradles a tablet in one arm. 

“Do you have a reservation?” She asks. 

You look down at yourself. That’s a generous assumption. You don’t know how she’s not telling you to leave. 

“Erm, I... I think I’m looking for someone,” you say, “Mr. Barnes?” 

“Barnes, yes, party for two,” she taps the screen, “he’s waiting. Won’t you follow me?” 

She spins on her heels and strolls away. She’s tall and gorgeous, just like the woman at the casino. You peer around and find no less finery and beauty among the staff and diners. The table are all white and polished and the walls are hung with abstract paintings of heaping fruit and bright cocktails. You’ve never seen brunch done so extravagantly. 

You nearly trip as you look ahead just before you reach the stairs. The hostess climbs ahead of you. You envy her modelesque figure. How is she stuck here? She’s breathtaking. She could be in magazines. 

More importantly, where are you going? 

Several flights and you emerge into the open air. You've never been on a rooftop. You’ve seen things like these in movies. There’s a bar center to the space and tables beneath umbrellas set all about. There is only one diner despite the sunshine. It is strangely desolate for such a warm scene. 

You’re led to the only occupied table. Mr. Barnes stands as you near. He wears a pair of teal slacks and a patterned shirt with an open collar. Casual but just as refined as before. It hardly seems like job interview. 

“Doll,” he greets you with a kiss on the cheek to your surprise. You don’t comment on it, it might just be his way. “You made it.” 

“I...” you check your watch, “it was before noon when I got to the casino.” 

“That’s on me,” he insists as he pulls out the chair for you, “I got restless. Changed my mind. Please.” 

He gestures to the seat and you accept stiffly, moving your bag into your lap as he tucks the chair in under you. He resumes his seat and looks up at the woman patiently standing to the side, “Melody,” he says, “she’ll have a vodka cran, give me my usual. Thanks.” 

“Yes, Mr. Barnes,” she replies eagerly. 

“Oh, and the lunch menu,” he returns. 

She clacks off in her heels as you squirm and clutch your purse. You peer around the rooftop and finally at Bucky. You give a sheepish smile. 

“This is a nice place.” 

“Sure is,” he sits back carelessly. There is no tension in him but your wound tight as a spring. 

“Never been anywhere like this...” your eyes drift over and you stare at the city skyline. 

“Made sure we weren’t near the edge, doll,” he assures, “I remember you’re not a fan.” He rests a hand on the table, rubbing his index and thumb. “And I wanted to have this time alone so my pal did me a favour and cleared the roof.” 

“Oh, wow.” 

“He owns this place,” he shrugs. “Never got into the restaurant business. It’s fickle.” 

You nod, not knowing what to say. He knows about these things. Obviously, a lot. You’ve never even worked a full-time week of work. 

“How’s your sister?” He asks, “I assume you got home safe.” 

“Yes, er, thank you, again, for doing all that,” you bite your lip and his blue eyes catch the gesture as his eyebrow tweaks. “I’m really sorry she did that.” 

“Doll, you’re real sweet apologising for her,” he inclines his head slightly, “but you gotta worry about yourself, don’t ya? That’s why you’re here.” 

The hostess, Melody, reappears and sets down two glasses. Yours is bright red with a lime on the rim and his is dark, no ice. She lays down a menu in front of each of you and straightens her posture. 

“I have to get back to the door but Hailee will be up to help you shortly. Our specials today are a goat cheese and beet salad or a brown sugar salmon with seasonal veggies.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky says as he taps the menu. 

Melody leaves you again and you bend your neck to read the menu. You look for a price beneath the dishes and find none. That can’t be good. 

“I’m not very hungry,” you sit up straight. 

“Doll, don’t worry about it. It’s on me,” he circles his hand around his glass, “why don’t you try your drink? Make sure it’s up to snuff.” He sits forward and lifts his own, “cheers.” 

Your hand slips up the condensating glass before you get a grasp on it. You raise it and clink it against his. You bring it to your lips slowly as he does the same, mirroring you as he watches you intently. You gulp and set down the glass as your cheeks strain. 

“You don’t like it?” He wonders. 

“No, I... well, I don’t drink much,” you take the cloth napkin and dab your lips. 

“Ah, if that’s too tart, you can have a look at the cocktails. Some of them are so sweet, you wouldn’t know the difference.” 

“I’m okay,” you assure him, “so...” you swallow and force out your breath, “about the job--” 

“Damn, doll, I’m so all over the place lately, I didn’t even tell you how good you look.” 

“I...” your eyes widen but you quickly wipe away your shock, “that’s nice. I mean, thank you.” Your voice shakes as you struggle to comprehend the compliment. What do you say? “You too.” 

He smirks, “yeah, you think so?” 

“What?” Your voice cracks. 

“You think I look good?” He combs his fingers through his long hair. Oh god. 

“Yes,” you answer cautiously, “I like your shirt.” 

“You’re adorable,” he snickers and shakes his head, leaning forward once more, bending his arms against the table. 

“Uh...” you peek down at the table and back to him. You can’t even blame the sun that you’re about to melt. The umbrella blocks out the bright beacon though a glare comes over the edge. “Bucky, sir, Mr. Barnes,” you shuffle through his titles, “the job. What would that be?” 

His brows rise and he brings a hand up to drag over his mouth and beard, his fingers brushing along the trim of his jaw. 

“The job,” he repeats as he narrows his eyes, “ah,” he lowers his head and presses a fingertip to the menu, “let’s order before we get into all that.” 

You look over the menu again then raise your chin, “I appreciate it, but it’s too much, Bucky. I wouldn’t want to... waste your money.” 

“It’s my money,” he looks at you, “so I’ll decide how I waste it.” 

“Oh,” your cheeks set alight, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he tilts his head again, “you’re just that type of girl. You don’t know what it is to be treated so allow me to show you.” 

You’re confused. This is the oddest encounter you’ve ever had. You almost feel like it’s a joke. You’re this poor helpless girl and he’s flaunting how rich and powerful he is. Is there even a job? 

“I’d feel worse if you didn’t eat, so doll, don’t step on my toes.” 

You chew your cheek and look down again. That’s it. You’ll have the cucumber sandwich. That’s not too much. It can’t be. 

The waitress arrives, a different woman but just as stunning. She introduces herself as Hailee. Bucky prompts you to order first before he gives his own. As she leaves, you rock slightly in your chair, stilling yourself before you can look weird. 

“So... I could clean or... I could learn something--” 

“Let me stop your there, doll,” he puts a large hand up, his palm rough and lined. “It’s my turn to apologise. I... haven’t been honest with you.” 

Your heart drops and you can’t help the glimmer in your vision. No. You’re going to have to go home and tell your mother you failed again. That you wasted her time and gas. You close your eyes and frown. 

“Doll, doll,” he says and you hear his chair scrape. You open your eyes as he pulls his chair around to sit closer to you, “hey, let me finish here.” 

You look him in the eye. Big mistake. You could drown in the blueness. He smirks and rubs your arm. 

“I’m not... it’s not a job I have to offer you,” he says deliberately, his other hand fluttering on your knee, “I would call it an arrangement. Mutually beneficial.” 

You stare at him. You’re entire being is on fire. You don’t understand what he’s saying, more so, you can barely think with him touching you. 

“But... I need a job,” you sniffle. 

He scoffs, not unkindly, “you’ll have money. I know you got a family, your sister, maybe your parents? Economy’s tough, I know it.” 

“Money? For what?” 

He squeezes your knee and sits up, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he leans even closer, “for your company. For yourself.” 

“What?” Your voice piques sharply. “I don’t...” 

“Look, let’s take it slow here, alright? Today is the taster. We spend some time together, see how we vibe, and go from there. Now I know you went to a whole lot of trouble to get so nice and pretty for me today,” he coaxes, “and I’m not gonna waste your time so you won’t go home empty handed. One thousand.” 

“Thousand?” You breathe. 

“Just for lunch,” he says, “I’d pay a lot more so I’m open to bartering.” 

“That’s... a lot...” you mutter. 

“Nothing’s too much for a girl like you,” his fingers dance along your shoulder. 

“I... I...” you heave each word. 

“Now don’t you freak out,” he’s on the edge of laughing, “doll, I mean it. Just lunch. You and me. Nothing...” he pulls away from you and puts his hands up, “untoward.” 

He stands and moves his chair back across from you. He sits and pushes his shoulders wide, “I mean it. Let’s get to know each other. I want to know all about you, doll.” 

“Me?” You gulp. 

“You,” he points over the table, “you must like music. You went to that concert, didn’t ya?” 

You nod and curl your shoulders. 

“What kinda music you like?” 

“Oh, I... old stuff, I guess. Destiny’s Child?” You give a sheepish cringe. 

“Old school,” he remarks, “I like it. Spice girls too?” 

“Yeah,” you clamp your lips together. 

“I’m not teasing ya. I can’t lie and say I never turned the radio up when I heard them,” he chuckles, “no judgment. That goes for you too, alright? When you find out how much I like ABBA, you can’t giggle.” 

Your cheeks dimple as you try not to smile. It’s hard to imagine him listening to Dancing Queen. You push your shoulders higher and look away. 

“Don’t laugh,” he chides. 

“I didn’t,” you turn back to him. 

“Yeah, you’re too nice, that’s why,” he purrs, “you gotta tell me your fave ABBA song.” 

You shrug and he squints cynically, “everyone has one. Come on. Fernando?” You shake your head at his guess. “Waterloo?” Again, no. “Mamma Mia?” Nope. “Take a Chance on Me?” No. “Alright, I surrender, tell me.” 

“Gimme, Gimme, Gimme,” you eke out. 

“Hm, not what I would guess but interesting,” he muses as his eyes wander from your face and back up, “but I at least knew you had taste.” 

He winks and you let out a giggle. Whether your nervous or something else, you can’t untangle all your emotions from one another. Yet you do feel a little better, a little lighter. It’s an unexpected situation but not as bad as you foresaw. 

[cozycottagetarot]

Your Future In-Laws First Impression of You

Pile 1 🪸 Pile 2 🛩️ Pile 3 ☔️

Notes:

This reading covers Your future in-laws (married or long-term partner) first impression of you as well as how they receive you. It's purely for entertainment purposes only. Take what only what resonates be it some, all or none.

I've been feeling mildly scatterbrained when it comes to organising my thoughts and I didn't have the mental capacity to design any graphics. Hopefully, this reading is still clear though.

Elle 🍃

Reading Masterlist | Patreon | Paid Readings -- Open 🥂

Photos From Unsplash: Pile 1 image source | Pile 2 image source | Pile 3 image source

PILE 1

What do they think of you?

Cards: Cat’s Claw (Purification), Lion’s Mane (Leadership), Lavender (Weaver), Ace of Swords, King of Cups, Four of Swords

Your in-laws first impression of you is one of being impressed and intrigued. From the cards pulled (including the next section) it feels like your future in-laws will be a very tight-knit family, so your future long-term partner/spouse introducing you is very much a big deal. I feel like it could be at a family gathering or you’re invited to an important event where you meet them there. You could give off the impression of being very regal and revered. I think your future in-laws will be very satisfied with you and see you as exactly what they want for their child/relative. They could also be cautious of you in the sense that you may give off the energy of calm but not to be messed with. They could view you as someone who is very balanced energetically. You could give off an enticing blend of masculine and feminine qualities.

You could also give off the impression of someone whose intelligence comes from observing a situation first. The only card that didn’t quite 'blend' as seamlessly initially for me here is the Four of Swords. You could give off a very unfazed vibe at times… or seem as though you’re uninterested in what’s going on all while simultaneously being on high alert. It could come from past experiences though that leaves you this way and I think your in-laws will be able to pick up on that as well. For others, you could just have this attractive, leadership energy and your in-laws' first impression of you could be “This person is great, but they sound like they need to rest.”

How will they receive you? Cards: Tobacco (Offering) , Arnica (Teacher), Saint John’s Wort (Radiance), Death, Six of Pentacles, The Hermit reversed

Your future in-laws will receive you with open arms. Right off the bat they’re going to take you in and share with you their wisdom and their love. Even if you and your in-laws may have differences, they’ll show you from the start that they are willing to get to know who you are and build a relationship with you. For them, your presence welcomes the start of a new beginning in their family. I feel like your in-laws may be very traditional but also open. They will want to help nurture you. For some of you, they may give a physical gift for you or offer you an opportunity of some kind.

PILE 2

What do they think of you? Cards: Rosemary (ancient memory), Gingko (breakthrough), Psilocybin (commune), Knight of Cups, Two of Swords, The Emperor, Knight of Wands

If you were drawn to pile 1, you could consider checking out that pile as well after.

I don’t know if you’re sleepy or what pile 2, but something to do with sleep is coming through for you. I figured maybe some of you may meet your in-laws at night, for others you may have an intense intellectual energy and it’s like “Wow, does this person ever sleep?” Your in-laws may see you as someone charming, playful or good fun, but overall super focused and fixated on a specific thing. For some of you, you may not have the best social skills? You might say things that catch them off guard, but I don’t think they’ll think less of you for it. Your person could have a big family, so there may be many in-laws you meet. They definitely see you as committed to what you set your mind to and that when you make a decision about something, it’s not one you make lightly. You give your all to projects and people. They may see you as a visionary, someone with lots of wisdom and brilliant ideas. I think that you might even influence them, if not completely change their perspective on a matter. If there are children around you may interact with them well, almost like a mentor and I think your future in-laws will be pleased with that. You may not directly interact with them when they form their first impression of you, they may simply observe you from a distance. For others, it could be that you flit back and forth between intellectual intensity that makes you seem older than you are one minute and embodying a child-like sense of wonder and whimsiness that makes you see younger the next.

How will they receive you? Cards: Rose (love), Cannabis (detachment), Tulsi (wealth), 10 of Cups, Page of Swords, 6 of Wands

*If you’re struggling with anxiety or sleep, there’s a message here to take time and care around cultivating inner calm. Quick fixes might do more harm than good currently.

There’s not one uniform energy here, like I mentioned before, it feels like various people I’m picking up on (so forgive me if this feels slightly scattered). For some, they might seem a little bit detached or unexpressive but they like you. It could be that they quite honestly didn’t want to like you but they do, or the initial getting to know one another might be rocky before you finally get to a point where it's like "yeah, y/n is pretty great.". Regardless, you’ll feel welcomed and you’ll be received with grace. I’m also picking up on some may want to get on your good side because they see you as someone successful or capable of great success so they may try to wow you. They may want to learn from you as well. I definitely pick up on someone seeking you out in hopes that you’ll teach them about something. They may welcome you by striking up a conversation.

PILE 3

What do they think of you? Cards: Palo Santo (Guardian), Jergón Sacha (Transfiguration), Chamomile (Inner Peace) reversed Four of Wands reversed, Ace of Swords, Two of Wands

It's not quite clear who's energy is what but I did my best. I think both you and your future in-laws may kind of flip back and forth feeling the same way about each other because I did pull some cards to represent your impression of your in-laws and was getting the same vibes and their impression of you.

There are multiple scenarios here so I split it up into bullet points.

Your future in-laws might need a minute to process who you are (aesthetic/interest-wise). (I also got they may need a couple years to come to terms with you? 😭 However, editing this it could have been that it took them a while to come to terms with their child/relative's type?)

I think you take everything they expect and flip it on their head, for better or worse.

I don’t sense any malice, but I definitely think that they may feel slightly avoidant of you at first? I don’t know why but I keep envisioning when you watch those movies and there’s someone coming over and the couple is in a panic and trying to act natural… I’m not sure that makes sense, but that’s what I keep getting. It’s not like 'Oh, we don’t like this person’. It’s more of an "X is coming and I didn’t have enough time to mentally prepare’. Some people just have a big personality, and even if you do like them you just kind of need to prepare yourself for them still 😅

For some of you, it could be that they’re worried you’ll lead their child/relative down a path they don’t agree with??? There’s fear here and the words aren’t coming out right because your in-laws like I said may not be able to immediately process you. I just get this weary sense, and that they know well enough there is no need to be weary of you.

Another possibility that comes to me is your person/future spouse may have also been one of those kids that leave their parents stressed 24/7 (like my sister), so your future in-laws try to run every scenario through their head trying to prepare themselves for what their child's partner could be like. They could also be relieved that you’re nothing like what they expected.

It could also be that they could feel like you’re the one who's guarded and has a wall up, or you’re anxious about meeting them and they pick up on that?

How will they receive you? Cards: Ashwagandha (purpose), Ginseng (magician), Sage (blessing), Mandrake (sensuality) The Magician, The Hierophant, Queen of Swords

While I was pulling the cards, “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” from Mulan suddenly started ‘playing’ in my head. Your future in-laws may kind of see you as their pet project of sorts. Not like you need fixing in any way, you might just seem like a good candidate for something one or both of your in-laws have in mind. Good or bad thing that’s on a case-by-case basis. You’ve got the hierophant and magician and for whatever reason, the imagery especially kind of put that in my head. They may have certain rules or values that they will communicate are important to them. Those two cards, as well as the queen of swords, are all holding an item and I heard a 'talking stick'?? Maybe it means something to someone or maybe I just need to rest lol. I think your in-laws will do their best to form a relationship with you. One thing that definitely feels evident is that they will know you’re their child/relative's person. Their initial feelings from their impression of you may completely switch when it comes to interacting with you. They’ll put a genuine effort into getting to know you, and not just a courtesy get-to-know-you type of interaction. They genuinely want to connect with you and understand you. They’ll try to release any preconceived notions towards you and they may even verbalise this as well.

[lunajay33]

The Teller Girl Part.3

•❤️⛓️💸🌹•

Summary: Being Jax Tellers sister made for a crazy life, being Gemma’s and Clays daughter made it even crazy, but being surrounded by bikers made you feel safe but what’ll happen when you can’t deny your feelings for a certain Scotsman anymore?

Pairing: Chibs Telford x f!reader

Content: Age Gap, bit of angst, smut, violence

Part.2

•Masterlist•

Having to deal with this cast wasn’t fun, the pain has more or less subsided from my ribs and my cuts and bruises were healing well, but its this damn cast makes it hard to clean around the place and help stocking the drinks and working around the garage and worst of all it gets in the way of having fun with my man

As I’m finishing up some papers I take the receipt outside for a waiting customer, he’s an old guy probably 50s mean looking too, most of the time we had regulars who knew I’m Jax’s sister and wouldn’t dare do anything to piss him of but this guy was new

“Okay everything’s settled and ready to go here’s your receipt” I say lightly still trying to be cordial

He takes it looking be up and down with those predatory eyes making a chill run through my body and not the good kind Chibs gave me

“What’s a fine piece of ass like you working hear with all these men” he smirks making me take a step back

“This is my family, I enjoy it here” he steps closer grabbing my shoulder

“How about I take you out of here and show you a good time”

“Im fine you’re not my type” I turn to walk away but he follows taking me to the ground my face smacking against the concrete his hand gripping my hair hard making me scream out

“Come on baby you know you want it” he laughs mockingly

“CHIBS! JAX! HELP ME!” I scream praying they’ll hear me in the club

When he pulls my head back again I see Chibs Jax and tig running out confused until they see me with a man ontop of me, Chibs rips him off me throwing him to the ground and beating his face in till his barely awake

“Ye never come around here again or the next time ye won’t be alive to walk off this lot” he growls as the guy weakly squirms to his truck and speeds off, Jax holding me the whole time till Chibs comes to be checking me over

“How bad is it” I whine when his thumbs skims yet another wound on my cheek

“Nothin the doctor can’t fix” he picks me up the two other fierce protectors following us into the club to Tara so she could patch me up

“What a pig, tryna do something like that out in the open” Tigs scoffs as the sit around watching Tara work her magic but I couldn’t help it when my lip trembles and the tears well along my water line

“You alright?” Tara asks noticing my change in expression

“I feel so violated” I cry covering my face with my hands

“Ey lassy I’m here, if ye want I’ll go kill that bastard” he moved my hands wiping my tears away

“No I just…..the way he was pushing up against me and ripping against my hair, I feel disgusting”

He sighs and pulls me against his chest smoothing a hand down my back whispering in my ear

“Shhh baby girl I’ve got ye” the others dispersed but still kept a distant watch over me throughout the day, Chibs not wanting to leave my side

“Can I ask you something?” I sigh when I take a drag of his cigarette as we sat at a booth as I laid my head against his shoulder

“Anything lassy”

“Do you think we could ever have a normal life, or atleast a little less violent one?”

“Ye never talked like that before”

“It’s nothing crazy I just think about….us I guess and our future” I sit back and look at him

“Lil romantic angel aren’t ye” he smirks as he places a soft kiss to my lips

“What do ye think about lassy? I’m just some old bastard” I smile at that running my hand down his neck to his chest

“You’re not just some old bastard to me Chibs, you’re the man I love I don’t care that you’re older than me, makes you even sexier, but I think about what we could have, I don’t want the toxic relationship a lot of the club gets into, I want to make eachother happy, I want everything we can possibly share together”

“I’m with ye and only ye, I ain’t stupid enough to go banging crow eaters when I’ve got the best lil piece of ass around” he sure had a foul mouth but in his own way he reassured me

“And promise me you won’t put yourself in stupid unnecessary danger anymore, I get what you guys have to do but just be careful, I don’t wanna walk into this club one day and be told you’re gone Chibs”

“Aye, I’ll be careful, ain’t nothings take me away from ye, I love ye darlin” he whispers as he places kisses down my jaw

“I love you too, can you drive me home baby, I’ve gotta clean the blood outta my hair” he nods and takes me to his bike, late night drives in the back of his bike have always been like therapy for me, the rumble of his bike, the warmth and smell of his cologne against me, the wind blowing past me

And to end a crazy day I’m able to crawl into bed fresh and clean next to the man I love, he smells of cigarettes and amber woods, pulling me to lay against his chest and I’m soon off to sleep

•

The next day I stay at the house making a chocolate cake to bring to the barbecue Gemma is having tonight as a little get together for everyone to blow off some steam after these past few weeks

As I’m finishing up the final details China comes through the door as sexy as always, he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist

“My lil lady, missed ye today, and yer lookin so pretty in this dress” his voice deep as he kisses the side of my head

“I missed you too my love, are you ready to go to Gemma’s?” I ask placing the cake in its box and turning in his arms

“We’ve got a bit of time, how bout ye give me a wee ride” my eyes grow wide at his straight forward request

“I’ve never done that before” I say as I start to unbuckle his belt, his hands brushing through my hair

“I’ll show ye baby, take it slow” his mans and boxers fall done to his ankles as he sits back on the couch, I place my knees on either side as he bunches up my dress and pulls my panties to the side

I line myself up slowly sinking down gasping at how good it feels, so different from missionary, hearing him groan sent a tingle straight to my clit

“Good ain’t it lassy” he says smirking when he’s fully inside me

“Fuck yes, show me how you like it” he grabs my hips moving them back and forth and up and down a bit, it was slowly but every move felt so right

“Shite darlin, I’ll never get sick of this tight pussy” he throws his head back as I grip his shoulders

“Should I go faster?” I moan out as he pulls down the top of my dress exposing my tits

“Nah not this time, I want ye slow, wanna feel everything” his voice deep as he looks me in the eye then trails down to my tits

I keep going slow but the build up feel euphoric as he tells me words of praise over and over, when his hand comes to my clit I can’t help but be pushed over the edge gripping him tight feeling him follow filling me up till we’re both out of breath

“Come on baby, let’s get ye cleaned up, sure Gemma’s wondering why we’re late” he smirks making me laugh

•

Arriving at the party I already knew the guys would be on us, as soon as we walked into the house Tigs was pulling Chibs into a playful head lock

“Let me guess, you were knee deep in pussy” he laughs and chibs smacks him upside the head

“Have some respect for my ol lady” he comes back to my side rubbing my hip as the rest of the guys laugh except Clay, ever since he found out about me and Chibs he’s been a bit distant and it hurt, he raised me and for him to put me in the silent treatment stung deep

Chibs noticed me looking from Clay back down to the ground

“Come on lassy, I’m sure Gemma’s waiting for ye in the kitchen” and sure enough she was there putting some steaks on a serving plate, as the smell wafts past my face I feel a bit queasy

“Finally you’re both here thought you’d never show up” she smiles, I suck a deep breath hoping this feeling would subside

I place the cake down on the counter “here I made a cake, I know the guys love it, probably more than they love me” I laugh when Chibs agrees jokingly

As the crew filed into the room we all sat around the table pilling food onto our plates and sharing stories

When Juice hands me the bowl of Cesar salad the smell hits me and that feeling hits me deep in my stomach, I burst out of my sit and run to the washroom emptying everything I’ve eaten today, gasping when I finally finish

A knock raps on the door before Chibs comes in rubbing my back soothingly taking a cool clothe and washing my face

“What’s going on? Caught a bug er something” he asks worried as he lifts me and places me on the counter

“I don’t know just the smells made me sick, maybe I caught something from that filthy man” I groan remembering yesterdays problem

“Shoulda killed that bastard” he sighs as he places his head in the crock on my next holding me close

“Keep being this touchy you might get sick too chibby” I say as I lace my fingers with his

“Don’t care, let’s get ye some water” he walked with me back to the kitchen filling up a glass for me

“You go relax with the guys, they’ll keep calling you pussy whipped” I smile still feeling a bit shaky

“Ye sure?” I nod and he kisses my cheek and heads out back with the rest of them where the fire started

I slowly sip on the water as to not upset my stomach again when mom comes into the kitchen with a few dirty dishes

“Soooo how far along are you” she places the dishes in the sink giving me a knowing look only making me more confused

“What’re you talking about?”

“You’ve gotten nauseous from the food, you’ve never done that before, you’re pregnant sweetie” I feel dazed when all the dots connect, I’m sick, my periods late, me and Chibs haven’t been using protection

“Don’t panic, I’ve got a test in the bathroom upstairs, let’s figure out if this is real before your heads swirls out of control” I breathe before she takes me to the bathroom waiting outside the door as I pissed on the stick that could change everything

Waiting a few minutes I let her in holding the test

“Well what does it say?”

“I can’t….im too nervous” she takes it and her face lights up and jumps around

“I’m having a grand baby!!!” She squeals as she pulls be close congratulating me over and over

“I’m……I’m having a baby” she pulls back smiling

“Yes sweetheart, you’re gonna be a mommy” everything could change now what if chibs didn’t want a kid now, he’s older and may be over that part in his life

“Just let it sink in baby, let’s go relax with the guys, it’ll be okay” we head out to the back Chibs pulling me down onto his lap feeling the warmth from the fire, I lay against his chest and stare into the calming flames

“Something on yer mind baby girl?”

“A lot actually but we’ll talk about it later, for now just….just hold me” his arms wrap around me and we enjoy the rest of the night, the guys being a happy distraction with all their crazy testosterone

•

Walking into the club my head is swirling with what ifs, what if Clay never talks to me again, what if Chibs doesn’t want this baby what if something happens to me again and I lose my precious little baby

“Hey perk up, still feeling sick?” Happy asks as he comes helps me stock the drinks

“Oh no I’m better but can I ask you something, you’re the most wise of the crew” happy was new but I clicked with him immediately he treated me like a sister

“Shoot sista” he said giving me his full attention

“Now this is all hypothetical but if you we older and you found out your ol lady was pregnant how would you feel?” His eyes widen

“Are you….”

“Hypothetical Happy” he smirks and continues

“Well if I had a strong relationship like you guys and I found out my girl was having my baby I’d be the luckiest son of a bitch” he places a reassuring hand on my shoulder and I feel a little less stressed

“Thanks happy” he stocked the last bottle and pulled me into a hug whispering

“Congrats sweetie”

•

A few hours later the familiar rumble of bikes ro up to the garage and my heart speeds up, I leave the office to meet Chibs, heading to his bike where he’s still sat

“Everything okay?” I ask as I unclipped helmet and hang it on the handle

“Amazing now” he smirks pulling me to sit facing him on his bike

“I have to tell you something”

“What’s that?”

“Just promise when I tell you you won’t leave me” his face scrunched in worry

“The hells going on? Yer scaring me lassy”

“The reason I’ve been sick….i found out at the party last night that’s why I was so quiet….im….im pregnant”

•

Part.4

Thoughts so far on this series

Taglist: @vixennox1864 @word-scribbless @uknowmesstuff @transparentbouquetturtle @ilikebandzzs @tommyflanaganfan-blog @youngadult9016

[nadvs]

heyyy i have a request i think about whenever i go to your profile. about an angst or fluff fic or blurb about your bio(?) “i don’t think your friends will like me” with rafe and (hopefully)kook!reader. (i hope this sparks interest if not its fine <3)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Your friends were less than thrilled when you told them that you were talking to Rafe, but they held their tongues. Once you started dating him, though, they refused to keep quiet any longer.

He has a bad reputation. He’s known as a psychotic douchebag who gets into a fight at almost every party. And they reminded you of that every time you mentioned him.

You finally snapped one day, telling them that you appreciate the concern, but you’re with Rafe for a reason. They weren’t exactly supportive, but they shut up.

He isn’t all he presents to the outside world. Behind the inflated machismo, Rafe is fun. He’s sweet. He makes you feel like flowers are blooming in your chest every time he looks at you. And nobody can convince you that he’s simply no good.

The country club is loud and bustling, every partygoer dressed in the best, most expensive thing in their closet.

After a month of dating, this is your first time coming to a club party with Rafe as his girlfriend. His hand is at the small of your back as you enter the ornate banquet hall.

You look up at him, smiling at the adorable way he scans the room, the chandelier lights twinkling in the blue of his eyes.

Rafe is out of his element. He usually comes to these things with his buddies, drinks a little too much, and doesn’t give a shit what people think.

But he’s here with you. And the pressure is heavy on his shoulders.

“My friends are over there,” you say, pointing to a table on the far side of the room. You spot a few free seats.

“I don’t think they’ll like me,” he replies, voice low, lips curled up in a nervous smile.

You pivot to face him, hands smoothing over the fabric of his suit jacket.

“Well, I like you,” you say matter-of-factly. Rafe looks down at you with a knitted brows.

“Yeah, for now.” His words leave his mouth before he can even think about them. Rafe glances away, his lips in a nervous, hard line.

“What’s that mean?” you ask softly.

He only shakes his head, an awkward smile on his face.

“Nothin’,” he drawls.

You won’t take that as an answer. Your hand finds his. Rafe loves the feeling of your palm pressed around him as you lead him out of the room you just entered.

Your heels click against the floor as you round the corner into an empty hallway, turning to face him again.

“What’s that mean, Rafe?” you ask again, your eyes deep with concern.

Rafe’s heart is pounding in his ears. He didn’t expect to have this conversation tonight.

It’s been eating away at him. He’s not an idiot. He knows his reputation. And he didn’t care about it until he met you.

“You…” Rafe sighs, looking down at the floor, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t even know where to start.

“Yeah?” you ask.

“I know you know what people say about me,” he finally says.

You don’t play dumb. There’s no point.

“And you think I agree?” you say. Rafe steps back, scratching the back of his neck with another sharp exhale.

“You might,” he replies, tone low. You look at him with doubt etched into every one of your features.

“Rafe,” you say with a breathy, disbelieving laugh. “I don’t care what people say. They’re wrong about you.”

He’s not so sure. He can’t control himself at times, anger and aggression pooling out of him. People see that ugly side of him. He can’t deny that that side exists.

“Are they?” he asks. His voice is thin and vulnerable. You haven’t ever seen him like this. “I’m not always like… the way you see me.”

Rafe feels like he’s teetering at the edge of a cliff now, seconds away from falling, from losing you.

“You know that we went to all the same parties before we got together, right?” you chuckle. Rafe meets your eyes again.

You saw him drink himself into oblivion and get into fights and leave parties with a bloodied face and swollen knuckles. Countless times.

“I saw everything and I still want you,” you say. “I don’t give a fuck if people don’t like you.”

Rafe’s chest burns. He almost dropped off the cliffside, but you just pulled him back.

He swallows the lump in his throat and pulls you in, cupping your cheeks to softly kiss you.

He didn’t care what anyone thought about him before. Now, he only cares about what one person thinks. And he’s kissing her and she wants him and that’s all that fucking matters.

[thechildofshadows]

A DAY FOR LOVE

Avery Grambs/Jameson Hawthorne - 2k

Alright!!! This is my sad, sad attempt at fluff, and I also haven't written since like June, so I've had about half a year to lose my writing skills to the mess that is social media. This fic happens between The Hawthorne Legacy and the Final Gambit. When we first see our OTP, they've just told the world that they're dating, and they're preparing for a charity gala. (anyone can read- I rated this General Audiences on Ao3) have fun!

T-MINUS FOUR HOURS (BEFORE THE GALA)

“You’re nervous.” The statement came from Jameson, who saw right through her rapid finger-tapping as more than just an outlet for boredom.

Out of all of the things Avery needed to do that day, filling out forms seemed like the least stressful- and yet, it didn’t seem to curb her anxiety.

She looked up from her desk, and watched Jameson lean his back against the doorframe, putting her in the center of his field of vision.

“Of course I’m nervous! The Hawthorne Foundation Gala is today, and for some reason I’m doing taxes-“

“-and for your pain and suffering, you deserve at least a year’s worth of chocolate donuts!” Xander burst into the room, bearing said chocolate donuts and nearly knocking over Jameson. He tossed his brother a donut before taking a better look at Avery. “I fear you may require a stronger source of sugar with the amount of stress coming from you.” he placed the donuts on her desk.

When Avery didn’t take a donut, he raised an eyebrow. “Does this have nothing to do with taxes and everything to do with an upcoming press release involving the two of you?”

Avery looked at him, seeming close to panic, and both of Xander’s eyebrows went up. “I will take that as a yes, leave this room, and strongly recommend you lovebirds speak to each other.”

Jameson left the door and stood against her desk, facing away. “Do you regret this, Heiress?”

Avery stood and braced herself on the desk. “Of course not. You know that, I know that, but does everyone else know?”

Jameson looked at her. “We’re doing this so that everyone knows. I don’t know if they’ll believe us, but they’ll be informed.”

Avery turned around, and leaned against Jameson. “They’re never going to believe or accept it. This community is weird, Jameson. They hate me enough as is, they’re never going to accept us together.”

Jameson raised an amused eyebrow. “Is that what you think?”

“What?”

“Look, you gave Alisa the picture and the caption yesterday. She posted it about two minutes ago-“

“-when the donuts came?” Avery’s shock was mixed with anger and relief and it caused Jameson to give her a small smirk.

“-yes, when the donuts came. I think you’re prepared for the worst, Heiress, but maybe not as prepared for the reception we’re truly receiving.” He handed her her phone.

Avery rapidly opened up Instagram and found her phone filled with notifications. She checked her latest post and found a picture of herself and Jameson covered in paint, from the day the two had built and painted her desk. In the photo, she gave Jameson a kiss on the cheek and it was captioned ‘first love ❤️❤️’.

It had over a million likes.

“Wait, a million?” Jameson leaned over her shoulder to look at her phone. It felt oddly domestic and she embraced the feeling. “Alisa said it had 10,000. It’s been less than five minutes, how is the app still running?”

Avery shrugged, a smile finding its way onto her lips. She opened up the comment section.

angel_face222 THEYRE SO CUTE

SONICSCREAMS people date this guy?

reply from lia-eliza dude imagine the kids 😍😍

HOT_TO_GO OPPOSITES ATTRACT CONFIRMED?????

      reply from SONICSCREAMS didn't she date his brother 😭 like that one interview

laffytaffyhappy does this mean he’ll stop being all law-breaky or will she start doing illegal shit.

my-name-is-slim-shaky wait, I lwk never imagined this, but they work so well together, it's my new OTP

theCALENDARRR oh to be young and in love.

      reply from I_is_calculator you're like 16

      reply from theCALENDARR shut up Jessica

      reply from I_is_calculator my name is Elena 😭

Jameson stopped her from scrolling further. "Look, the reception isn't all going to be puppies and chocolate donuts. But I think you're doing pretty good if Instagram thinks it’s not propaganda.”

"Jameson, that was five people out of-" she checked the phone again. "nine thousand comments."

Jameson shrugged. "I highly doubt they're the only five positive ones, Heiress, you would've had a harder time finding it otherwise."

Alisa, who Avery hadn't seen since that morning, walked into the room holding a large garment bag, followed by a makeup artist. "Congratulations, Avery. That's one of the most positively recieved posts I've ever seen on your account."

Jameson raised an eyebrow at Avery, giving her a look that said I told you so, and Avery let go of a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. "You're not joking?"

"Have you ever known Alisa to joke?" Alisa glared at Jameson, who punctuated the statement with a smirk.

Alisa turned to Avery. "About 95% of the general public reacted well, and out of that 5% that didn't, most were teenage girls."

Avery sighed. "As expected."

With the problem mostly settled, Alisa clapped her hands. "Okay, then, onto the rest of our duties. Avery, you have a gala in about four hours. Jameson, get out."

Jameson opened his mouth to protest and then decided against it, for he closed his mouth and dropped a kiss on the top of Avery's head before leaving.

Avery turned to Alisa. "You didn't have to kick him out."

Alisa closed the door behind Jameson, before ushering Avery to the bathroom. "Once you figure out how to get your makeup on while holding a conversation with him, he'll be allowed to stay. We need you both there on time, and you take significantly longer to get ready than he does."

T-MINUS ONE HOUR (Before the gala)

Jameson wasn’t exactly one to panic, but neither was Avery. He began tapping his foot and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down.

Alisa had left him a selection of four ties and matching pocket squares, and Jameson assumed he was supposed to wear them with a tuxedo. He pulled out the garment bag containing the black one, and began slowly buttoning his shirt.

The sounds of Hakuna Matata filled the room while he tucked his shirt in, and Jameson sighed before picking up his phone. Xander had set his ringtone over two weeks ago; Jameson hadn't gotten around to hacking it yet.

"How are ya doin', Jamie?"

"You live three doors down, why don't you tell me?" he hung up the call.

Not two seconds later, Nash strolled into his room, wearing flannel over jeans and a band t-shirt.

"You look like a waiter. Didn’t Grayson ever teach you to dress yourself?” he took a look toward the rest of the clothing Jameson had set out to wear.

Jameson ran a hand through his hair. “I look the same. I wore this last week.” 

“And then someone asked you for champagne. And you socked them in the face.”

He then proceeded to walk into Jameson's closet -"There’s nothing wrong with what I'm wearing!" "People are gonna ask you for more caviar; Grayson told me to not let you leave the house like that."- and after rummaging for two minutes, found a waistcoat that he didn't even know existed. It was the exact color of the tie Jameson wanted to pick, but Nash procured a black tie and pocket square.

"I think this is the same color as her dress, but honestly, it's gonna be dark, who's gonna see?" Nash held up the waistcoat, as if the nonexistant light would help him see better. 

Jameson took it from him. "Have I ever worn this?"

"Maybe. You were also drinking a lot, so I doubt you or the news remembers." Nash sniffed the cloth. "You would never even know. It doesn't even smell like bourbon."

Jameson raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he began to put his tie on.. “Don’t tell me you’re being serious.”

Nash crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I couldn’t tell you whether it was true or not, Jamie, you wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said.”

Jameson buttoned up his waistcoat. “A wise man takes all truths with a grain of salt.” 

“Bullshit.” Nash drew out the first syllable.

Jameson gave his brother a smirk. “Don’t you know it.” He grabbed the suit jacket and left.

1.5 HOURS IN

“Oh hello dear!” The sound of posh over-confidence crept up behind Avery, who quickly turned.

“Mrs. Anderson!” The woman was one of the slightly pushy heads of a charity created to support budding culinary minds. While incredibly specific, the charity had sent over a thousand students to culinary school, who went on to open restaurants that were all doing pretty well. Avery didn’t mind the woman; she was a lot nicer than most of the attendees, and used her reach to benefit the people who needed it. “How are you, ma’am?”

“I’m doing great, darling, but we need to talk about that dress. You look stunning!”

Avery was draped in dark red silk, covering one arm, and hugging her body until it hit her hips, where it flowed in waves, just shy of reaching the ground. The asymmetrical neckline and bottom of the skirt were covered in minimal silver embroidery-visible when the light hit just so. Alisa had shoved her in a pair of black stilettos, and curled her hair, painting her lips with the same red as her dress. A silver choker was clasped around her throat, matching her earrings and the bracelets on her left hand.

She thanked the woman, handing her a glass of champagne, and asked, “Have you heard about the charity we’re sponsoring today?”

Avery and the woman chatted for a couple of minutes as Avery convinced her to donate thousands of dollars out of pocket.

“Cancer truly is a scary thing.” Mrs. Anderson smiled softly. “I lost my husband to lung cancer. I doubt the majority of these people consider the research worth funding.”

“They think they’re untouchable.” Avery said.

“Precisely, my dear.” The woman grabbed another glass of champagne before looking behind Avery. “Oh, I must add, you and Jameson Hawthorne are a beautiful couple.”

Avery felt her cheeks heat and she looked down, but Mrs. Anderson hadn’t finished. “The amount of love you two have for each other is simply incredible. Just being in the same room as you two makes me feel like an outsider; your bond is so sweet.”

Avery paused. Same room? She turned and saw an incredibly familiar face.

Jameson Hawthorne had finally showed up. He wore a dark grey suit-so dark it was nearly black, with a waistcoat the color of wine and silver chains. His tie matched his suit jacket and his hair was artfully arranged, neat with enough personality such that he still looked like himself.

Mrs. Anderson gave Avery a soft smile. “You two look at each other like a man seeing the stars for the first time in years. If this isn’t true love, I don’t know what is!”

Avery’s lips parted. “Really?”

“Oh trust me darling, you and Jameson are something that happens once in a lifetime.” The woman winked and walked away, exchanging greetings with Jameson, who was headed Avery’s way.

She motioned towards the side of the room, and he showed up a minute later with two wineglasses.

She leaned on a pillar and he stood her to her. “You look beautiful, Heiress.” Jameson handed her the wineglass as he said the statement.

Avery smiled. “And yet, you still upstage me by millions. How has this gala gone so far?”

Jameson grimaced and drained the wineglass like a shot. “All people want to talk about is the fact that I’m ‘off the market and it’s such a shame and won’t I please put in a good word for Grayson’ - if I hear another woman tell me any of that, I’m going through the old man’s whiskey stash.”

Avery suppressed a smile and switched their glasses. She doubted she would drink the wine, and Jameson seemed like he needed it more than she did. Jameson wasn’t usually this open, and she wondered if the wine wasn’t his first drink of the night. “You seem like you’ve had fun.”

Jameson shot her a smirk. “And you should be prepared for more, Heiress,” he clinked his glass against hers, “because I believe the slow dances just started.”

For the few hours, Jameson and Avery alternated between spinning around the dance floor and resting at the bar. Their routine was occasionally interrupted by a speech, a person or both, but by the end of the night, they had raised over a million dollars to charity. The venue closed, but they stayed for an additional thirty minutes to supervise cleanup.

  It took about forty minutes to get back to Hawthorne House and once they made it to Avery’s room, she tossed her heels into her closet and sat on the nearest chair.

Avery sighed. “I am never doing this again.” She stood up and began removing her jewelry, shedding her media persona for the sake of comfort.

Jameson unzipped her dress. “I highly doubt that.”

Avery shot him a look and she had to stifle a laugh when he mirrored it.

Once they were both changed and under the covers, Avery turned to Jameson and propped her head on a hand. “Do you know what day it is?”

Jameson’s eyes glittered and Avery knew he knew the answer. “The fourteenth?”

Avery rolled her eyes. “Valentine’s Day.”

Jameson smirked. “An astute observation, Heiress. And while one AM is a perfectly reasonable time to exchange gifts and other things, I don’t think you want to leave this bed right now.”

Avery nodded. “Definitely not.”

“Then Happy Valentine’s Day, Heiress, and I’ll see you when we inevitably wake up in six hours.”

Avery laughed and pulled him in for a kiss. When they broke apart, she whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jameson.”

And if she woke up the next day with several news articles focusing on the gala (or rather its hosts), well, she was going to ignore it all and spend the entire day with her amazing boyfriend.

fin.

Alright- 2.5 thousand words later, I wish you a happy Valentine’s Day!

(or just a happy Friday if you don’t have plans like me 😄)

(dividers are from @/cafekitsune)

please like, reblog and leave feedback in the comments. Or just throw tomatoes at me. Anything works.

I also realize now that im going to keep writing even if the reception is negative, so if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

expect another fic in 1-2 weeks, more likely 2 than one.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Wazzuh homie. Got another idea, what about a fic with AP (upgrade pred/assassin pred) with a male reader who lowkey just can’t feel pain and ends up constantly getting hurt because of it- cue a broken nose in a spar and not even noticing it.

Thought it might be fun to write and as always have a nice day and I shall repay you with more edits if you want:D

Take A Hit

Pairings: AP (Assassin Pred) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 2220

Summary: On a mothership, surrounded by other hunters, you spar against a young blood. His skill is evenly matched to yours. A spar to level yourself up on the charts. With CIPA, you can’t feel pain or temperature difference. You break an arm, you keep fighting. You get cut, you keep fighting. The Yautjas are amazed at your ability that allows you to push through. An ability some are even jealous of. But pain allows for them to toughen up.

Author Note: It feels like forever since I've written for AP. Man needs some love. Took me a moment to warm up to him but the sizeeeee.... delicious!

Masterlist

Ao3

There’s a tournament going on currently. Each group is carefully picked out for their skills and strength. All of them Yautjas. Then, here was you. A ooman amongst their ranks, wiggling your way through the ranks and heading towards the top. No one believed in. Besides Assassin.

No one messed with Assassin. Except you. Similar with their ranks, you’ve wormed your way passed his hard, nearly impenetrable exterior, and into his heart. That’s why he stands in the sideline, others giving the giant space. He silently cheers for you win, for you to come out on top despite everything else against you. A human.

Before the latest match starts, you are standing in front of Assassin. Both of his massive hands cup your shoulders and kept you pressed to the fronts of his thighs. Not that he didn’t trust your ability, he whole heartily did. He didn’t trust others. There was a large dispute about your presence on the mothership. He quickly shot every argument down… with his fists. No one stood in his way again after that display.

Your head tilts back to find his bright, yellow eyes on you. “It’s going to be a tough one, Assassin. They’ve got me against, Diqrt. He’s got a score of eight to two,” you spoke directly to him and ignored everyone around you.

A grunt left him. His gaze flickers over to your opponent on the other side of the mat, waiting for his turn. Assassin couldn’t wait for when you wiped the floor with his face. He doesn’t like count the wins before they happen, but he knows you will win. The opponent may not know it yet, by the way he keeps smirking as if he already won. But, soon, he’ll meet his loss.

Finally, he looked back down at your alien face and patted your shoulder. “You know what to do,” he rumbled. There was one special trick you had that gave you a massive advantage against your opponents each time.

The inability to feel pain.

Some Yautjas would kill for an ability such as that. Others have seen it as a curse. But you, you use it to take down your enemies.

You reached up and placed your hand over his. Yours barely covered the back of his hand. “Kick ass and take names. I know, I know,” you groaned and shook your head. With the match soon to start, you pulled your shirt off of your body and handed it to Assassin. Another lesson he taught you. Less clothing? Less to grab.

A bell rang. “It’s my turn now.” You swiftly double checked over your weapons before slipping out from underneath his hands. “May Paya guide my hand.” Assassin let you leave to enter the ring and dipped his head, silently returning the words to you. He crossed his arm, a stern expression falling over his features. No one dared to step an inch closer to the mutant. Or else they’ll met with Cetanu shortly enough.

Diqrt was a head taller than you but around the same age as you. His strength surpassed yours but your skills made up for it, including CIPA.

A referee entered the square mat as well. A well aged warrior who has seen her fair share of battles throughout her life. The scars that decorated her form spoke more words than she could tell you. You didn’t miss the way she sneered in your general direction. Instantly, you knew if Diqrt pulled any games or tricks, she wouldn’t call him out for it. A game you needed to play carefully.

It’s a sight you were used to. But, you built your path up this far by yourself. They had no reason to act as if you cheated. Assassin has helped along the way, but teaching you how to fight, to defend. Never to build your path for you. He’s the only one who truly believes you can complete these matches. Everyone else only sees you as a weak, meek human. You couldn’t wait to show them how wrong they were.

The referee points to the respected spots the two of you needed to be at. You stepped up to the plate. Your opponent doing the same thing. The two of you eyed each other up before placing a hand on each other’s shoulder and giving a firm shake. Respect. Then, you both took the two steps away and got into position.

Not everyone’s eyes would be on you. But, you knew a lot would be watching. The human that has defeated the odds. Why not give them a show?

“Go!” the ref showed suddenly. Your coiled muscles rolled forward and easily dodge a swipe of claws meant to mar your chest. Able to feel pain or not, bleeding out is still on the table.

A dagger was unsheathed from its holder that framed your chest. It spun gracefully in your grasp as the two of you danced around each other. But you weren’t one for a dance competition. You flicked the dagger in your hands. It soared through the air. Swiftly, you pulled out another one and dashed forward. The blade was knocked to the side, as planned.

The distraction working to plan. You were able to thrust the blade into a weak spot along his armor. Armor that slightly restricted his movement but allowed for protection along his belly. Until, a thin blade finds the perfect slit to pierce his hide.

You ripped the blade out and rolled away, barely missing the heel of his foot. A grin plastered its way onto your face. Diqrt snarled and lunged forward at you half knelt body. He catches you. His weight doubled of yours and crushed the air out of your lungs. A wheeze left your lungs. But, you are rolling with him and fought your way to the top.

Claws rake across your face. Blood sprouting to the spilt surface and dripping down your face. You’re forced to scramble away from him and glared at him through the blood dripping down your skin. It blurs your vision. His dark blue scales blending in with the dark room itself. You growled and tightened your grip on the handle.

The dark form was hard to see but you were able to narrowly dodge a fist heading for your head. The air above your head taking the hit. You shot out your leg and hit him directly in a weak point on his ankle. He snarled his pain and collapsed down on the opposite knee. You go for a punch to his face in hopes to knock him out but your fist is caught. The limb is forced down until it reaches an unnatural angle before the bone gives. You feel the bone snap at the joint. You grunt with annoyance, knowing you couldn’t use the limb anymore. The blade falls out of your limb hand and bounces off of the mat at your feet.

Now, you were forced to use your non dominant hand to defend yourself. You pulled out another blade and backed away when he got back to his feet. There was a smirk on his stupid face. “What? A ooman can’t handle the big dogs?” he snarked and marched towards you. You rolled your eyes and ducked when he attempted to snatch your neck.

You make a move to get behind him and kicked him in the back of his knee. He grunted and fell back down but rolled forward and spun around. Diqrt lunged forward, fist slamming straight into your face. Your head whipped back with the force.

It was impossible to breath out of your nose, forcing you to pant through your mouth. Your lips curled up in smirk. He thought all of this, these injuries would drag you down. Never. Blood ran down from my nose and dripped down onto the mat, joining the neon blood of Diqrt. You swiped out your tongue and tasted it yourself.

When he darted back into your space again, you leaned out of the way then drove your blade into his wrist. Payback is a bitch.

The Yautja howled, head reared back. If this was a fight to the death, this would’ve been the perfect opportunity to drive a blade into his neck too. But, it was a shame it wasn’t. Maybe when they open up to the deathmatches again. You would love to teach them how much of a danger you are. Little but mighty.

The blade twisted, ruining the tendons in his hand. Diqrt yanked himself away from you and cradle his destroyed wrist close to his chest. You stood in the same spot and gazed at the injured Yautja with a smirk. Despite the injuries that would’ve downed any normal person, you straightened your stance. Blood continued to drip down your face, forever staining the mat.

Diqrt bowed his head. “I yield,” he muttered under his breath. You pumped your uninjured hand in the air with a roar that echoed around you.

A female referee reentered the arena. Your name falls from her mandibles. “The winner of the fourth tournament,” she announces and uses an arm to point towards your smiling, proud form. Then, the match ended. You calmly walked over to your thrown blade to pick it up before strutting off the mat towards Assassin. The male was expressional but his eyes shined with pride.

When you got close enough, he place a hand on your chest, above your heart. “Wonderful match, little one,” he cooed. You beamed brightly then reseated your blade. In the safety of your quarters, you would clean each blade carefully. Each wound properly taken care of. For now, your limp wrist hung at your side. This break would need to be seen by a healer.

You stepped back enough to card your digits between his and hold onto his hand. “I couldn’t have done without you, Assassin. I appreciate all that you’ve done for me,” you spoke softly, words only meant for him. No one deserved these words besides the Yautja in front of you.

Assassin grunted then pulled at your arm. The giant parted the crowd as the two of you left. Normally, you would’ve stayed to watch the rest of the matches but they wounds needed to be cared for.

Through the halls of the ship he knew like the back of his hand, he took you a floor up. It wasn’t long before the two of you arrived at the healers section. Many of them prepared for a night like this. It was usual a blood bath on tournament nights. Today was no different.

At the sight of Assassin, the two of you were ushered to the front of other waiting young bloods. You didn’t care if you had to wait, the pain… well it didn’t bother you at all. You smiled to yourself at the thought. The others, they were probably aching, anger at your treatment. You felt their gaze on you but your head was held high, holding the hand of a dangerous Yautja at your side.

Over the course of probably three minutes, they had set your wrist and used a cast to keep it in place. It wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. Their advance technology easily took care of it.

As for the cuts, Assassin insisted he could take care of those himself. Then, the two of you were back in the safety of your shared quarters. Before you had a chance to slip off the weapon harness around your chest, Assassin was unclipping the buckles. You raised a brow at his eagerness. Not that you weren’t thankful for his help. The brace that kept your hand steady made it a little difficult to move your fingers. Plus, if the man wants to help, why not?

His hands drifted down to the knot that kept your shorts around your waist. The grin on your face widened. “I don’t think I was injured down there, Assassin,” you teased but did nothing to stop him. The two of you have been toeing with each other for some time. You were waiting for a moment like this.

Assassin didn’t stop. One of his hands snatched your throat in a tight grasp and pulled you close to his face. The tips of toes barely touching the ground. “I know. I’m on a different mission. I’m done waiting,” he snarled. His voice giving away to the emotions swirling inside of him. You laughed and let him pull off the clothing from your hips. Now, you were only adorned in a pair of boxers.

“Finally,” you snorted and worked on his own belt. It was more complicated than your simple knot. But he tightened his hold, cutting off both air and blood to your head.

“No, I control. You listen.” You raised a brow at his action then shook your head in disbelief.

“What makes you think I’ll just submit to you willy-nilly?” you snarked and rolled your eyes. There’s more of a chance for him to snap your neck, but he wouldn’t.

Something flashed in his eyes. His free hand cupped your growing bulge in your boxers. A gasp tore from your throat at the sudden pleasure. “That’s why.” Fuck yourself. You were in it for the night.

[sturnsbaebackup]

Can you do something where the reader is dating Chris and goes on tour with them & at the first show she gets scared and stays backstage for most of it until the fans beg her to come on stage?

STAR OF THE SHOW - CHRIS STURNIOLO

summary: chris begs you to go on tour with him and you comply, but you get a bit of stage fright so he gets the crowd to help you overcome it.

warnings: none! just pure fluff

—

“please come tour with us, y/n! it’ll be so fun! just think about how it’ll be you, your boyfriend, and two of your best friends traveling the states going on tour together!” he pled as he gave you puppy dog eyes. you had bit your lip in an attempt to find the right words to say.

“yeah y/n! you should come with us!” nick stated from the kitchen.

you sighed, “i guess i’ll go? but the people are there for you guys, not me. i doubt they’ll want to see me,” you shrugged.

“well they’re not real fans if they aren’t excited to see you. you’ve been a major part of not only our lives but also our videos, y/n,” chris said as he pulled you closer to him. you smiled up at him, a small blush grew on your cheeks.

this was a couple weeks ago, long before you realized that maybe you were right; no one’s here to see you. they’re here for the triplets.

you currently stand on the outskirts of the stage watching from the shadows as the boys introduce themselves. the crowd is roaring with cheers and you can’t help but smile a little as you see a flood of happy expressions fill the room. chris keeps looking at you from onstage, smiling a little or even waving at you. he keeps trying to tell you to come onstage before the games begin, but you just keep shaking your head no.

“why not? cmon babe!” he mouths to you.

“no chris, it’s okay,” you mouth back, gesturing with your hands for him to pay attention to the crowd. he rolls his eyes at your stubbornness and quickly taps nicks shoulder. he whispers something quickly to the blonde haired boy. you watch as nicks eyes dart to you, and he immediately nods to chris. you feel a lump in your throat begin as you see chris running towards you.

“what the hell chris?! why aren’t you on stage?”

“i could ask you the same thing,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

you groan, “chris the fans aren’t here to see me. there’s no reason for me to be on stage while you guys compete in challenges. i’ll just be a distraction. they don’t want to see me, they paid to see you guys, chris. not me.”

“are you joking? you’re seriously joking right?” he asks, his voice almost sounding like he’s annoyed with you. you just nod, afraid that he may be angry with you. he chuckles to himself and kisses the top of your head before running back on stage.

“okay guys, before we start any of the games i have a question. you all know our dear friend and my girlfriend y/n, right?” he asks and your eyes widen. the crowd roars into cheers and ‘yes!’s.

“okay good. and how would you all feel if she came on stage right now?” he teases the crowd, laughing as they all burst into cheers once again.

“can you guys tell her to come on stage? she’s being a bit shy,” chris asks and nick and matt nod in agreement.

“oh my god,” you say to yourself as you shyly walk on stage. the crowd cheers once again, making a big smile form on your face. “hi guys,” you chuckle lightly into the microphone chris hands you.

“hi y/n!” “y/n we love you!” “y/n leave chris for me, please!” you hear people chant and you quickly feel less nervous. once the boys finish talking to the crowd, you step out of the way and go closer towards the back of the stage as the games begin. chris makes his way over to you and takes you under his arm as you both observe the jenga game that’s going on. chris’ partner makes a good move and you give her a high five. “yes! oh my god you’re so good at this!” you say to her and she smiles widely at you.

“oh my gosh thank you so much y/n! you know, you’re even prettier in person,” she smiles softly and you feel your heart swell. you never realized how much the fans actually love and appreciate you.

—

after seeing the fans reaction to your presence at the previous show, at the next show you feel comfortable enough to come out to observe the meet and greet. you stand closer to the exiting area, not expecting anyone to even notice you.

“y/n, can i get a photo with you?” a girl asks you and you immediately light up with a smile.

“oh my gosh of course you can!” you exclaim, getting close enough to her that you can get into frame of the selfie. as she walks off you notice chris looking at you with a huge smile. he taps his brothers to tell them about how fans are asking you for pictures, and they both turn to face you with big grins.

maybe coming on tour wasn’t so awful after all.

—

this was so rushed i’m so sorry

[the-librarby]

OLD TIES

- DANNY JOHNSON (DBD)

18+ MDNI

This was written so long ago but I gave it a bit of a cut and polish to satisfy me and clear my drafts, which explains why it’s so long. Don’t quote me on any knowledge, this is pure fun and not proofread!

You remember the first time you met him. You had just turned ten two weeks ago, when a strange boy moved in next door. You didn’t really care, but your mother was all about appearances. So you were forced to visit them the next day— a welcoming to the neighbourhood, she explained.

When the door swung open a woman around your mum’s age opened the door, she looked kind, but tired. As if she hadn’t slept well for a long time, even her smile was strained.

“Hi! We just saw you moved in, we won’t bother you for too long but we just wanted to welcome you to the neighbourhood,” you watched as your mum handed over the plate of fresh cookies, “These are for you and your family, we live just next door to your left. Feel free to come over anytime.”

The woman looked down at the plate for a moment, still having not responded, you could feel your mum shift uncomfortably as you cling to her dress. The woman shook her head and smiled, “Choc chip,” she said, first looking at you mother before trailing her eyes down to you, “Danny will love these— my son— it’s his favourite flavour, thank you,”

Your mother smiled again, less confident now, “Of course, I hope you both enjoy them,”

“Danny is around your age you know,”

You looked up at the woman, surprised at being directly spoken to, unconsciously you cling tighter to your mum’s dress. When you don’t respond the woman continues, “He’ll be starting at the local primary school soon, with uh…” she trails off, “Oh shoot, I’ve forgotten the teachers name, Ms Takemen?”

“Oh! Ms Takewood? That’s my daughters teacher too,” you feel mum’s hand press inbetween your shoulder blades, “Looks like they’ll both be in the same class,”

The woman smiled more genuinely now, “Well, would you look at that. Looks like we’ll be seeing more of each other then.”

You and your mother leave not long after that, but just as the door closes you hear a faint voice from within the house, “Who was that?”

Later that week there’s a knock at their door. There’s no one else home but your mother who is currently hanging out the washing and didn’t hear the knock. Reluctantly you stand, abandoning the book you were drawing in as you walk towards the door. You open it slowly, revealing a boy of similar age. He has a line bisecting his left eyebrow, if you look closely you can see the scar extends down to his eyelid and partly up his forehead. His expression is neutral, almost as if he’s waiting for something.

You frown, not sure why he’s here until you see your mother’s plate, empty and clean, held between his hands. You stand up straighter, moving away from the doorframe, “Is that for us?” You hold out your hand towards him, expecting.

The boy tilts his head, “We’re going to be in the same class, my mum told me,” he states.

You frown, your hand hovering awkwardly, “Yeah, I guess so,”

“What’s it like?” He flips the plates between his hands, “The class, are their bullies?”

“What?” The question confuses you, but then you figure maybe he’s been bullied in the past. You lower your hand, “Kind of? Not really, though,”

He smiles when you says this, “Will you show me around?”

You look down at the dried splotch of yellow paint on your white shoes. You had a feeling in your gut telling you that there was something off about this boy, but you also don’t have many friends.

You shrug your shoulders, “I guess I can,”

When you look up you can see that he boy’s smile has widened into a grin, except it doesn’t look authentic, it almost looks practiced.

“I’ll see you in two weeks then,” he says, finally handing over the plate.

You reluctantly reach for the plate, but a hand grabs your wrist before you can pull it back. You jolt, looking up at the boy, his eyes have hardened, his lips pressing into a serious line. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, we’re friends now.”

You’re so shocked by the declaration that you can’t even form a response. The boy stares at you for a moment longer before finally letting go of your wrist, his expression stays the same as he turns to leave. You watch from the porch as he takes the steps from your house and walks next door to his own.

You feel an unsettling seed plant itself in your stomach.

When your twelfth birthday rolls around you’re very excited. You’ve finally made a big enough group of friends to host a birthday party sleepover, an experience you’ve never been apart of before due to your overly shy nature. You guess you have Danny to thank for that, if not for his overly confident personality drawing people in, others wouldn’t have noticed you standing beside him.

As promised, you gave Danny a tour of their school that day. When he was introduced to their class, people were instantly drawn in to his mysterious and new personality, heaps of people were offering him places in their groups. You thought for sure this would be the end of the line, but he sat down right beside you and refused to leave your side. It was almost overbearing, but the lonely alternative felt just a tad bit worse.

The nervous feeling in your belly grows when you think about it, there’s still that nagging feeling in the corner of your mind when you think of him. That off kilter aspect of his personality that you’ve just chalked up to being an outcome of his tough upbringing. Before you can become distracted by the memory, a knock can be heard from the front door. The girls are starting to arrive.

A few of them ask where Danny is, which you found odd since you thought the ‘girls slumber party’ invite would clearly not include him. You shrug it off though, excited to have a fun evening. You can’t blame them for making that assumption anyway with the way Danny hovers around you all the time. Honestly, when you had brought up your birthday Danny had acted disinterested. Which at first hurt your feelings, but then you figured it wasn’t you that he was disinterested in but more the other girls you were inviting.

When others started expressing interest to hang out, you were thrilled, finally an opportunity to connect with other girls. At first Danny was fine with it, since it was only small conversations every now and then, but then it grew into longer conversations which bridged into break times. When this started to happen Danny grew agitated, expressing his feelings as such one day after school.

“They’re taking you away from me,”

You frown, “What do you mean?”

“They’re splitting us apart, can’t you see? You don’t even have time for me anymore,”

You grip the straps of your backpack as you walk, “That’s not true Danny, we still hang out all the time. We walk to and from school together, are in the same class, and hang out after school,” you laugh, “If anything, time is all we have,”

Danny frowns at this, choosing to not respond. You hate when he gets in this silent mood, you never know how long it’s going to last, it could be from anywhere to an hour or days. You’re about to give up and apologise when he speaks again.

“They don’t actually care about you, you know,”

Your blood chills, instinctively your hands clench tighter, “What?”

He looks over at you pitifully, “I heard them talking while you were in the bathroom, they’re only friends with you as a joke. You’re something they can laugh about,”

You scoff, shaking your head. What a classic Danny move, “You’re lying Danny, stop trying to psych me out,” your tone wavers.

“See, I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Why would I lie about this? I have nothing to lose,”

You whip your head in his direction, “You pull this stunt every time I’m given a chance to make other friends! First it was that new student who tried to talk to me, and then it was that partner assignment which you forced me to beg to change partners for, and now it’s this!”

Danny’s lips slowly press into a hard line, instantly you start to feel dread form in the pit of her stomach. You walk the rest of the way home in tense silence, when you finally approach your house you stop tentatively in front of it. You half expect Danny to keep walking but he stops, finally looking at you once again.

“I’m sorry I forced you into being my friend,”

“Danny, don’t be like this.”

He doesn’t respond, choosing to turn on his foot and continue on to his house. You watch from the footpath as he walks up the steps of his porch and straight through the front door without so much as a glance your way.

Later that night they’re sat in a circle gossiping about who likes who. You thought you never really cared about those sort of topics, but now being involved you find it quite curious.

“I heard that Sarah likes Danny,” Chelsea chimes in, this makes your ears perk up. You haven’t talked to Danny since your last argument a few days ago.

“Who doesn’t like Danny, that’s nothing new,” Molly, the self proclaimed leader of the group, the one who actually invited you into their circle, rolls her eyes.

Chelsea shakes her head, “No, like I’m talking major crush. Borderline creepy actually, I heard she takes secret photos of him and keeps them in her room,”

You have to laugh, but you quickly cover it up with a hand over your mouth, “No way,”

All the girls turn to look at you, slowly you uncover your mouth, “What?”

They all looks between each other knowingly before Molly speaks up, “Doesn’t that make you jealous?”

You pause mid reach for the popcorn bowl, “Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

All the girls look just as confused as you do, “Isn’t he like, your boyfriend?” Chelsea asks.

You feel blood rushing to your cheeks, frantically you wave your arms around, “No, no, we’re not—of course we’re not dating! We’re just friends.”

An odd silence washes over the group, you look between all the girls but you find their stares too intense, so you opt to pick at your nails instead.

“I guess that makes more sense,”

You look over at Molly who starts to giggle, “I mean of course, that has to be true. Right?” Her giggle turns into a laugh, “God, I can’t believe we actually believed he was dating you. Honestly, what could he possibly see in a dorky girl like you?”

Shame floods your system as they all begin to laugh, instantly you think back to the last argument you had with Danny.

He was right.

Tears of humiliation well in your eyes, without a word you stand up and sprints towards your front door and out of the house. You follow the footpath to Danny’s house through your blurred vision, your frantic knocks are heard moments later by his mum. Her smile is quickly wiped off her face when she sees your tears.

“What’s wrong, honey? Did Danny tell you our news?”

You frown, “What news?”

His mum tilts her head, “Why don’t you come in, Danny is up in his room.”

You walk in, barely taking notice of the house as you quickly take the steps up to Danny’s room two at a time. With a cursory knock you open the door when you hear a familiar call from within the room.

“It’s open.”

Danny is sitting on his bed with a book, which he quickly abandons when he sees you. He jumps off his bed and walks towards you, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Tears well up once again as you think of the cruel conversation from earlier.

“You were right,” you choke out between sobs, “They hate me. Everyone hates me,”

You feel fingers card through your hair, “I don’t hate you,”

You sniffle and pull away shortly after, you feels silly for crying over something so small. You should have known better, should have listened to Danny when he warned you.

“I’m leaving in a few days,”

This snaps you out of your pity party, “What?” You quickly wipe away the tears from your face to see him better, to see the joke on his face. But you don’t see any sign of a joke.

“My mum got offered a better job, closer to the city, we’ll be leaving by the end of the week,”

It’s at this moment that you take note of the haphazard boxes filled with things around his room, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? How long have you known?”

“I didn’t want to ruin your birthday,” Is all he offers as an explanation, “I got you something actually,”

You’re so caught off guard that you don’t know how to respond, so you quietly watches him rifle through his bedside table drawer. When he returns, he’s holding a small box, “Open it.”

Hesitantly, you grab the box, when you see what’s inside you’re not sure how to feel about it. There in the middle is a silver chain necklace, a small charm hanging off the middle, the letter ‘D’.

“I can’t take this,” you whisper.

Danny ignores you, already grabbing the necklace out of its case, you almost flinches when he sweeps your hair to the side gently. With upmost concentration, he manages to clasp the chain together. You watch as a satisfactory smile forms on his face, “To remember me by,” he states.

You blink, stunned. Cautiously feeling at your neck for the charm, you don’t have the heart to say how you really feel. How you’re itching to take it off, how it feels like a bad omen.

“I’ll miss you,” it’s partly true, you will miss him.

Danny looks down at you with a self assured smile, “I’ll be coming back for you.”

7 years later — First Year of University.

“Oh honey, did you see the news? Are you safe? You should come home—”

You sigh, your breath coming up as a white puff of air in the crisp breeze, “I’m fine mum, the campus is safe with all the security around. And I don’t go anywhere but my classes,”

“He’s breaking into dorms now! Are you locking all your doors?”

You wedge the phone between your ear and shoulder as you zip up your jacket. Winter this year is unforgivingly cold, “I promise my doors are locked, I double check them just like dad says.”

The phone call goes on until you kick the door to your dorm room closed. In the peace and quiet of your room (you lucked out with a homesick roommate that ended up leaving), you finally feel yourself start to unwind.

Ghostface killer strikes Southmount University.

It had been eerie following the killing spree Ghostface was enacting. You were amongst packing for university and driving up to campus when it started. The killings were further away, but as you got closer to Southmount the vicinity started closing in. Each day you grew more unnerved, more paranoid.

Ghostface was known for jumping towns though, so guiltily, you were kind of glad Southmount already had their victim. You had glanced over the news bulletin in your dorm building before your classes, first year student like yourself, female, and had lived in the next town over.

Police were still on campus scouring the scene, and would be camped out for at least a week for extra security. You weren’t overly concerned though, what were the chances right?

You dumped your bag on your bed and fished out your laptop. Despite the concerned phone call, you continued on with your afternoon as normal. You could only wait eagerly for Southmount to settle down and go back to normal next week.

As you stretched your arms over your head and looked outside you could see the sun beginning to set. A quick glance to the laptop’s clock display showed it was 4pm, the days were getting shorter.

As if on cue, your phone buzzes on the desk.

Early dinner and study break at cafe? :-)

You hadn’t made many friends so far, but you had hit it off with one girl, and a sort of first-year-solidarity had stuck. She was an anxious girl, far away from home and entirely obsessed (paranoid?) with the Ghostface killings.

“I can’t believe he struck here! At Southmount!”

Your eyebrows knit together with indifference as you stir your coffee, “Why is that shocking exactly?”

The girl tilts her head in disbelieving expression, “Haven’t you read his memo? He never strikes this close to populated areas, it’s a complete outlier,”

“She’s not an outlier, she’s a victim,” you correct.

She slumps her shoulders in a placating manner, “You’re right, sorry. It’s just,” she sighs, shaking her head, “I can’t wrap my head around it. Why is he breaking pattern? I wonder if this place is significant to him?”

“I don’t know, why do serial killers ever do anything?” By this point you just want to drop the conversation. It’s all anyone is talking about these days and you just need a break.

Oblivious to your feelings, she’s taps her chin in thought, “Maybe someone?” She gasps, slamming her hand down on the table. The teaspoons rattle on their saucers, “A serial killer in love? Could you even imagine?”

You roll your eyes, “Now you’re being delusional,”

She laughs, “No wait, humour me,” you watch her expectantly, waiting for her elaborate story, “He’s following someone— an ex lover, the one that got away, whatever—and in classic Ghostface fashion, he needs to make a statement,”

“Why doesn’t he just show himself to them?” You question.

“Ugh! Because that’s unoriginal, he needs a grand gesture to signal his arrival. Ghostface thrives off the anticipation,” she elaborates.

You scoff, “What? You’re an expert in Ghostface’s behaviour now?”

She rolls her eyes, “It’s clear he’s attention seeking, it’s why he takes up to weeks between victims. Lets towns generate gossip about him and just when it’s about to die down into a false lull of security, he strikes again,”

“That’s fucking grim,” you grimace.

“You’re telling me.”

Thankfully, the conversation steers south from there. You talk about classes, and upcoming assignments—normal student things— the sky gets darker and soon the cafe is closing up, so you and your friend make your way outside. You both hiss as the cold air wraps itself around you on your journey back. Since you’re on opposite sides of the campus you walk to the middle of the courtyard and say your goodbyes there.

When you’re a safe distance away, you slump your shoulders and wrap your arms around yourself as you walk. You understand that it is important to have friends, but it’s fucking draining. Your feet are almost at a dragging pace by the time you carry yourself back up to your dorm.

It’s pitch black when you make your way inside, but by the time you click the door shut you realise you’re already fucked.

The lamp clicks on by itself, illuminating the small room including the figure sitting patiently in your previously occupied desk chair. Gloved fingers are still perched near the lamp, while the other is resting casually on the arm rest. The soulless eyes of his white mask stare holes through you.

Your back is glued to your door, one hand holds your keys while the other is precariously perched on the doorknob. The silence is thick and you dare not move for fear of setting his motion in action. The mask slowly tilts, your heart races in your chest.

“Did you miss me?”

His voice makes your skin crawl, the hairs on the back of your neck raise. You’re completely frozen in place, unable to think or move under his stare. For a moment, no one moves, your fingers twitch around the handle. A massive mistake that sets Ghostface in action.

He rises from the desk chair and crosses the space with long strides. By the time he’s in your face, you’re already on the verge of hyperventilating, you’re sure you imagined the glint of a knife in his right hand but it terrifies you nonetheless.

A gloved hand shoots out and grips your face, hard. A cry is muffled by his palm, your jaw dropping from how harsh his fingers are digging into your cheeks. In the darkness of the room his mask looks more menacing as it peers down, you flinch at every brush of his costume that touches you.

He leans down closer, inches away from your face. With your mouth agape you anticipate his next step, wondering what he’ll say next. However, no words come out. In your peripheral view you can see his other hand rise, that glint you saw earlier comes closer. You clench your eyes shut, not wanting to see the weapon come down, but after a moment of feeling nothing you curiously peek your eyes open.

Dangling in front of your face, threaded between gloved fingers is the chain of a necklace. The pendent sways softly in front of you.

The letter ‘D’ mocks you.

An instant flood of memories pours through. You never thought you’d see this again after you shoved it in the back of your wardrobe. Reflecting on your childhood now, you know what happened when you were younger with a certain boy was not a normal friendship. It was manipulative, tense, and narcissistic.

“I told you I’d come back for you.” his voice rumbles.

Your sharp ragged breathing is the only thing you can hear as the world around you slows down. You can barely think of the implication of this necklace swaying in front of you over the fear that washes over you. Slowly you watch as he starts straighten up, that’s when your body runs on autopilot. Without hesitation you swing your head forward as hard as you can, your forehead lands against the hard plastic with a loud thunk, but you hear it, a faint crack underneath the mask.

He stumbles back, holding the centre of the mask. In his brief pause you turn around and yank the front door open, you’re almost out when a hand grabs your wrist and yanks you back with such force that you crash onto the floor of your dorm.

Harsh pants leave your lips as you watch him kick the door closed with finality. He strides forward until he’s standing over you, his heavy boots beside either of your hips. His knife is equipped in the same hand that is holding that damn necklace, you can see it dangle from his fingers.

“Jesus, doll, thought I’d get a little bit more of a warm welcome,” he grunts.

You grit your teeth, leaning up on your elbows, “Fuck you!”

He crouches over your body, way too close for your comfort but you don’t move out of fear for losing any leverage you might have.

He tilts his head, “No love for an old friend?”

“You’re sick,” you spit, “Get that thing away from me.”

He looks down at his knife and jokingly points it at your chest, you flinch but it’s not what you’re referring to and he can see that. He hums and places the knife down, bringing the necklace back into view. The expression on your face gives away your dread.

He shakes his head and chuckles, “Really? So much contempt in your eyes for something given out of consideration.”

When he leans closer you recline to avoid the gap closing, but there’s only so far you can go before your back hits the floor.

He unclasps the necklace, “Don’t put that thing on me,” you beg.

“Worse things will happen to you tonight,” he hisses, “I suggest you get the fuck over it.”

He cautiously keeps his face out of reach as he leans down and clasps the necklace behind your neck. It feels like the weight of a brick, exactly as it did when you first wore it. You grunt as his weight settles on your hips, his knees dig uncomfortably into your ribs as he reclaims his knife.

“So dramatic,” he exasperates, “Never did grow out of that pity party, did you?”

“Says the guy with the ghost mask,” you spit, trying to wriggle back until you feel the pointed edge of his knife dig into your stomach, “Always the actor, right?”

He sighs dreamily, “You know me so well, darling.”

The knife travels down your stomach until it reaches the hem of your shirt, without warning the blade glides through the material until your shirt is split in half down the centre of your chest.

You suck in a deep breath, preparing for the immense pain of being cut open like all the other victims. But after a moment of feeling nothing, you hesitantly look down and see no sign of blood.

You can hear heavy breathing from beneath the mask, the knife is still suspended in mid air over your hip as he— what you assume —stares down at you.

“What do you want?” Your question breaks the silence.

A hum emits from behind the mask as he mulls over your question. From your periphery you can see his hand rest beside head, the other, with knife in hand, moves towards the band of your bra.

“Did you think of me?”

You frown at the cryptic question, not out of misunderstanding but out of uncertainty how to respond. With each thinking moment the knife slowly sinks under the centre of your bra.

“Yes,” you appease, the knife pauses.

“What did you think about?” He shoots back.

You exhale sharply and look towards the ceiling, you need the quickest avenue to get you out of this situation.

“I thought about how you were,” it’s an empty response.

You flinch as the mask suddenly swoops down in front of your face, the tip of the knife pricks the skin under your chin.

“Don’t bore me, sweetheart,” he hisses, “You haven’t got a sentimental bone in your body. What else did you think about?”

You grit your teeth, “Fucking nothing. I couldn’t wait for you to leave,” you spit, “People asked me about you for weeks like I needed you to survive, I don’t need you.”

A hand settles on your chest, your heart flutters wildly underneath his palm, “Where’s your boyfriend then?”

You frown in confusion, he laughs, “If you don’t need me, then why haven’t you moved on?” His finger trails down your chest.

He hums knowingly at your choice to remain silent, “Were you waiting for me, doll?”

The delusion of Ghostface being your fucked up knight in shining armour hangs like a cloud over your head. He’s so deep in this fantasy that it spills over into your reality, it has you thinking over the past with a rose coloured tint. He did take care of you, didn’t he? It had been hell once he left, you had no one to turn to after that nasty spat with those girls. Rumours had circulated about you for weeks about how much of a loser you were.

Even now, years later a cloud of misery follows you. It was hard to make connections with a cynical mindset, so yes, you hadn’t exactly succeeded in romantic endeavours. Not that you even tried.

Without realising, tears begin to well up in your eyes the high emotional state finally beginning to crumble your minds ability to remain calm.

A low shushing coo wraps around you as a gloved hand wipes away your freshly shed tears. It’s humiliating to be seen like this, topless and crying underneath a masked murderer.

“I’m here now,” he assures with a low murmur, “And I’ll take care of you. You waited so patiently, isn’t that right? Such a good girl,”

The pit of your stomach flutters at the comment. Your mind cracks further under the emotional whiplash, all thoughts receding into the fuzziness of your confusion.

You gasp as the knife suddenly slices through the centre of your bra. Your hands fly down to hold the halved material to save your modesty, however, without the support your breasts start to spill over. You’re too overly concerned with protecting your chest to watch as the man above you lodges his knife into the wall behind your head for safe keeping. With both hands free, he reaches for his waistband to unzip his pants.

He’s been rock hard since the first sign of your tears. To see your spirit fold under his influence is a heady experience that goes straight to his cock. When he’s freed he drops it against your stomach, leisurely rubbing it back and forth against your smooth skin.

He sighs, “You make me so fucking hard.”

The crude honesty makes your cheeks heat up. The innocence of it makes him twitch, you really had been saving yourself, huh? He watches as you pant softly underneath him, anticipation buzzing all around at what his next move might be. He shifts forward up your torso, his cock sliding up against your body until it’s nestled between your held breasts. Your fingers hover anxiously in avoidance, but he doesn’t care what you do as he lazily fucks his cock between the valley made between your hands.

The soft skin of your tits just barely touching the sides of his shaft makes him groan, “Hold them together for me, won’t ya darling?”

Heat rises further to your cheeks until they’re bright red. You hesitantly listen, pushing your breasts closer a smidge. You’re lucky you’re cute, because he normally wouldn’t have this much patience for anyone else. Agitatedly, he slaps your hands away, causing your bra to fall off completely. Before you can feel ashamed, gloved hands grip your tits and shove them together until all you can feel is the warmth of his shaft between them. Your hands hover uselessly, as he continues to fuck them. You can’t do much else but listen to the way he pants, or watch the tip peak out from the top of your chest on his inward thrusts.

The room is stuffy, and your chest is beginning to bead with sweat and precum. Ghostface tilts his head back, his grip turning bruising as he fucks harder, “God, I can’t believe no one has done this to you before,” he huffs, “Not even at a party? No drunk fooling around?”

You look away with embarrassment, it’s humiliating enough to be in this situation. To dig up your inexperienced past is just too much, but Ghostface seems to thrive off it. It’s like marking his long overdue territory, and it makes him buzz with possessiveness. He looks down at the necklace with his initial laid against your chest. It had been a nightmare to find that thing in your childhood room, he had just about turned it upside down in his search before finding it tucked away in a little box where no one dedicated enough would find. A part of his mind feels at peace that it’s back where it belongs, like a missing puzzle piece.

He pulls back and lets go of your breasts. The lack of support makes them bounce back into their natural state, he can’t help but pinch one of your hard nipples making you gasp and twist uncomfortably. Your chest is glistening under the dim lighting of the room.

“I bet you’ve never even been to a party,” he chuckles, “Lucky for me, no one would have been able to resist your tits otherwise,” he gives both nipples another harsh twist.

This time your back arches from the sensitivity, your hand instinctively grasps his wrist to effort to pull him away. He listens this time, but only because your look of embarrassed exasperation is too cute.

“Anyone been inside your mouth yet?”

You frown, “What?”

His thumb intrudes your mouth, forcing it open by pushing your tongue down. You can only gargle and choke around it as he inspects the inside, the unnatural intrusion makes your tongue tense but his thumb has it firmly pinned.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, “Are you gonna let me fuck it?”

You frown and try to shake your head, “Come on, sweetheart, don’t be a buzzkill. Remember to tuck your teeth okay? I’ll fucking murder you if you try to bite me.”

Without much more warning he replaces his thumb with the tip of his cock. You dare not move, frozen out of inexperienced fear of his threat. His gloved hand holds the bottom of your jaw open as he thrusts shallowly. You breathe heavily through your mouth like a gaping fish as he continues to rub back and forth, the bitterness of his precum makes your tongue twitch. He shuffles up on his knees until he’s hovering over your head, with arms pinned uselessly to the ground his hand moves to the back of your head in a caring cradle.

“Pace yourself, sweetheart.” He whispers.

The careful cradle of his hand sinks into your hair with a stinging grasp as he shoves the length of his cock down your throat. Your throat spasms and saliva pools in your mouth as you choke around the girth of it. You moan and clench your eyes closed uselessly as you’re forced to swallow around him. Tears well and spill over your cheeks copiously now as he holds you there for what seems like forever. When he pulls away, you cough and sputter. Strings of saliva connect from the tip of his cock to your lips.

He shushes you as he pets your hair, “You did so well, darling, let’s try again,”

You shake your head, his shaft rubbing against your cheek, leaving a sticky mess behind, “No, please,” you pant.

He grips the hair at the crown of your head and pulls your head back, “Don’t piss me off now, you haven’t even gotten me off yet.”

You moan as he shoves back in this time thrusting in and out at a bruising pace. Your hands grip his clothed thighs, nails digging in for anchorage as he uses your throat. You try to breathe through your nose as he holds himself still, lips barely touching his pelvic bone.

“You look so good like this,” he groans, “it’s like you were made for it. Your throat is the perfect fit for my cock,” he praises.

You clench your eyes closed and choke pitifully, saliva starts to push out around the corner of your lips. He sighs, “So messy, didn’t realise how dirty you were.”

The shame of his comment makes your stomach swoop. Finally he starts to pull back, making you gasp for the second time, your throat is starting to sting now. His cock is coated in your saliva, it makes him twitch when the cold air of the room hits it.

Your head thunks against the carpeted floor as he lets go. You close your eyes and try to catch your breath, silently thankful for the intermission. When you hear rustling you curiously open your eyes again, only to see gloved hands reaching for their mask. Your eyes widen as the mask comes off, without ceremony he flings it onto your bed on the other side of the small dorm room.

Danny Johnson in all his glory, the same faded scar bisects his eyebrow. Surprisingly, blood is crusted over the bridge of his nose and his left nostril, must have been from when you head butted him earlier. He doesn’t seem the least fazed by it, his eyes are clouded over and hooded. You can’t even make out the colour of them under this lighting, too dark to see. He looks down at you with pitiful fondness, like you’re a broken toy no one else wants.

He gently wipes the saliva off the corner of your lips and chin, a stark difference in care compared to seconds ago.

“You look the same as you did when I left.” he gently strokes your cheek with a wet thumb.

You can’t meet his eyes, the false sincerity makes you feel sick. You meant it when you called him an actor, he’s a damn good one and you won’t fall for it again. He grips your chin between his thumb and pointer, tugging you with more force than he anticipated which makes him wince.

“Did you notice the trail I left for you?” He smiles when he sees your look of confusion, so dumb, “The bodies, I followed you all the way up here. But you barely even paid attention, had to come right into Southmount just to get you to notice me,”

You’re horrified at the revelation. To be the cause of so many peoples suffering feels like a gut punch, you twist and thrash under him in effort to get out. He grabs your wrists and pins them to the ground.

He grins manically, “Your little friend was next on the list you know, I was going to follow her back but I got too impatient. I needed to see you,”

“Shut up!” You wail, “Shut up, Danny! I don’t want to hear it!”

You try to curl in on yourself but you physically can’t under his restraint, you let out a frustrated sob. Danny watches in fascination as your chest heaves up and down with your heaving breaths.

He rolls his eyes, “Relax,” he mutters, “You’re killing my boner.”

You look up at him in disbelief, he’s looking down at you with indifference waiting for you to get your act together. More tears are shed in anger at his lack of remorse, you can’t help it even when he grabs your cheeks and shakes your head side to side.

His face is hovering over yours now, so close that you’re sharing the same breath. Eventually you begin to calm down, accepting the futility of what has happened.

“Good girl, see, I knew you’d come around.”

He leans down the rest of the way and kisses your mouth. Your lips are puckered from the way he holds your cheeks together, you can only close your eyes as he has his way. He bites and licks and sucks, making your lips even more swollen and sore. When he pulls away he has a smirk on his face.

He lets go of your cheeks, the indents of his fingers leaving a sore imprint behind. He grabs his cock and strokes it over your face as few times to warm back up.

Teasingly he taps the head of it against your lips, “Finish me off.”

Without restraint you open your mouth, allowing him to slide back into the warmth of your mouth. It’s brutal, the way he fucks in and out of your throat. Nearing towards the end he has no restraint or care for you as you choke on it.

He groans deeply, his face twisting in a pleasured trance. He pulls out last minute, fisting over his length to cum over your face. Ropes of cum land over your lips and cheeks with deliberation. He groans one last time as the final drops splat against your tongue. Words escaped, he leans down to kiss you deeply. His tongue invades your mouth scooping out whatever taste he’s left behind.

Feeling weak and tired you barely match his enthusiasm but he’s so lost in his thoughts that it doesn’t seem to matter much. He pulls away and watches as you catch your breath. Your eyes are bleary, your body starting to crash from the high of it.

He stands up, taking his knife out of the wall above your head. Completely forgotten by you, of course you were occupied by other things. He walks over to your bed to reclaim his mask. With it back in place, he looks over you one last time. Laid out, topless and breathing with heaving breaths.

He turns away and leaves your dorm, the door closes behind him with a soft click, forgetting he was ever even there.

[notjustjavierpena]

Jealous

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: The spirit of husband!javi told me to write this. JUST TO PROVE HE IS A DICK AT TIMES. I imagine that it takes place around the time that Sebastian is conceived, so you can decide if this is that time ;)

Summary: You dance with your colleague. Javier reads too much into it. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni), javi is a dick, jealousy, public sex, rough and brutal sex, creampie, car sex, dirty talk, possessive sex

Word count: 2.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49644700

Jealous

You are starting to regret coming along to this work function as you scan the crowd of people from different branches of your company. It hasn’t even been that many hours, and you are swirling the wine in your glass impatiently as the wish to go home grows stronger. You had taken off your heels already half an hour into the event, and have carried them around by your side all evening. They are perched on a barstool beside you.

Your boss had insisted, said that the more the merrier, and that he had always wanted to see you out of your shell. Then he had made a joke about seeing your wild side that you laughed at because you really want to keep your job. 

Javier is getting a cigarette with some of the people from accounting, and you know that you will have to hear about how they feel like energy vampires when he comes back to throw his arms around in dramatic gestures. It makes you smile to yourself as you stare into your glass.

You don’t allow yourself to think too much about the fact that the reason you are so eager to leave is mainly because Chucho has the kids. Your house is empty when you arrive home later. Neither you nor Javier have made an actual verbal agreement on having sex tonight, but you know that he is thinking of it too; you’ve seen him staring at you whilst you tapped your wedding ring against the flute of champagne you drank at the welcome speech.

“There she is,” you hear the voice of one of your coworkers. Jim works in the same branch as you, eats lunch with you daily, and occasionally makes work less hellish by making you laugh. You would call him a friend as much as a good colleague. 

“Hey,” you look up to greet him with a grin, “Where the hell you been? Crunching numbers for fun or flirting with Tina?”

“The latter is cooler, right?” He asks with a wink.

You laugh genuinely. 

“Okay, yes, then the latter. The flirting,” he nods towards the dance floor which they are starting to set up, “She declined a dance though.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry, Jim,” you put down your glass on the bar behind you, “She’ll come around at some point.”

“Anyway, don’t matter,” he waves dismissively, looks back to the dance floor for a second, and hesitates for just a moment, “I’d rather dance with you. Platonically obviously.” 

“Might turn into a dance battle,” you let him know with a smirk. Jim is harmless, and genuinely in love with Tina from the front desk with the way that he hovers by her side when he has the chance. 

“Well, damn, I like the sound of that. Think they’ll let us request songs?” 

“Let’s find out,” you say, telling the bartender to keep an eye on your shoes. 

*

Javier returns to the party about five minutes later, but you are nowhere to be found in the spot where he left you. He has the urge to tell you about how horrible your colleagues from finance, accounting, or something are, has planned the conversation in his head so he can make you laugh out loud. 

But there are your shoes, left abandoned by the bar and he is forgetting his line more and more. Puzzled and slightly disappointed, he looks at the bartender who nods towards the crowd of people dancing in cheap flashing colored lights. He feels confused since you don’t normally dance alone.

That’s when he notices that it’s your favorite song playing, and then he sees your figure moving in the crowd. You are dancing with someone. A male someone who looks at you with a stupid grin; the kind that is only reserved for someone you are interested in. 

Javier’s chest tightens with an uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty and unease. He pushes past a few people who are talking animatedly from too many drinks, one of them letting out an uh-oh at seeing how he is eyeing your dancing body. They know who he is, but he doesn’t care. He wants to bark something at them, but he is too focused on getting between you and the probably handsy guy. 

When he gets close, he hears you say something to your colleague who he realizes must be Jim who you have talked about several times. The problem is that Javier never knew that Jim was as good-looking as he was. 

You will laugh at him, he is sure of it, but he still puffs his chest when he approaches the two of you. You have your arms above your head, gripping your wrist and swaying your hips in a way that would make any man swallow thickly. Jim probably has. 

Javier says your name, taps your shoulder and you whirl around. You look at him with a smile so big that he regrets being pissed off and saying something in an aggressive tone at you the moment he has done it. The smile fades from your face, your brows furrowing and you tug down your dress that’s been riding up slightly from dancing. 

“Hey,” Jim interrupts, “Didn’t mean no disrespect.”

“No, Jim, stop,” you say quickly. 

Javier knows he is being ridiculous, but he cannot help the way that he feels when he sees men look at you with as much interest as he has. You’re beautiful. In that dress, you’re sexy too. It’s not your fault, but he cannot stand being here another moment. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Javier grits out. He looks at you, a hand on his hip as impatience overtakes him, “We need to get home anyway. The kids are with their abuelo and it’s late.”

“Claro,” Jim says in a way too American way. 

“Let me get my shoes,” you say. 

“I’ll get them,” Javier tells you. 

*

You meet Javier by the entrance but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he kneels on the floor and helps you step into your stiletto, ties the ankle strap securely before tapping your leg to make you present the other foot for him. 

When he is done, he gets up and shoves your coat into your chest. He mumbles, “It’s raining.”

You take a cab home since the both of you have been drinking enough to not be able to drive. Javier holds the door open for you as you climb inside, making you jump as he slams the door behind you and walks hurriedly around the car.

With your coat in your lap, you wait for the silence to break. It doesn’t except for Javier tapping the glass that separates the front- and backseat, telling the chauffeur where you are going.

You take matters into your own hands.

“You’re being fucking ridiculous, Javi,” you sigh as the car takes off. The driver seems to turn up the music a little as a way of giving you privacy, “I’ve told you that Jim is dating Tina.”

“He looks at you just the way I did,” he snaps, staring out of the car as the heavy rain patters on the window, “It’s not just fucking fun and games when he looks at you like that.”

“I would never let him do anything,” you mumble, removing your coat as the anger you feel makes you sweat. 

“It has nothing to do with you,” he says simply. 

“Then why are you scolding me like a toddler?” You pat the seat to make him look your way, “Hey. Look at me. Why is me dancing - as friends - with Jim a problem?”

“Because you’re too fucking beautiful, that’s why,” he finally admits. He gestures to you, “Look at you. Es estupido.” 

“Oh? Weird way of communicating that you think I’m pretty,” you giggle, “Jesus, Javi.”

“Pretty isn’t the word I’m trying to say here,” he continues to fume quietly, “I don’t like ‘em getting all up in your face. How am I supposed to feel about that?”

“Well, sorry for—“

“And Jim knows you’re mine,” he interrupts with exasperation, “Pendejo.”

“Whoa, mister,” you chuckle in disbelief, “Back down.”

“Take off your panties,” he replies simply. 

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull. You nervously laugh at first, but when Javier doesn’t make any signs of his command being a joke, you stare at the back of the cab driver’s head to see if he has heard anything despite him being behind a glass panel. His posture hasn’t changed since he started up the engine, so you guess no. 

“No, are you kidding me?” You shift a little in your seat, feeling warmth spread across your face and chest. Your heart slams against the inside of your rib cage.

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” Javier places his hand on the space between you. He turns his palm upwards, “Hand them over.”

Your stomach swirls in interest at the danger. Your heartbeat is between your legs now. You shift a little more to make it seem like you are trying to get comfortable, but it allows you to hike up your dress just slightly and reach underneath the skirt. You lift yourself from the seat just slightly, hooking your index fingers into the seamless cotton panties you have worn for tonight. You tug them down over your thighs, slide them past your knees until they hit the floor. 

Javier picks them up. He gives you a look when he feels how wet they already are and then stuffs them into his jeans pocket, “Not mine, huh?” 

“I’m so done with you,” you say with a little laugh, “What are you going to do next? Fuck me in the backseat?”

Javier looks over the cab driver’s shoulder to check the clock. He looks like he is calculating the time it will take to reach your home address, then he raps on the glass again, “Could you turn that song up? I like it.”

The music grows louder. Your eyes widen, “Javi, no— no, c’mon.”

Then he lunges forward and pushes you down into the car seat, and you yelp loudly and try to play it off with it being the car swirling to the right as it overtakes another vehicle. 

Javier has you on your back in mere seconds, belt clinking as he hurries to get his cock out. You scramble for your jacket, positioning it by your hips to somewhat cover up what you’re doing. 

You give in much sooner than you thought you would, your nimble fingers making quick work of hiking your dress up once more to expose your dripping pussy. You spread your legs for him, “Hurry. People will see.”

Javier reaches down to slide into you immediately, the stretch making your cunt sting so deliciously that you already flutter around his girth. The both of you groan but it is barely audible over the music making the car boom. 

“Nobody makes you feel like me,” he says as he starts fucking you into the seat. Your high heels dig into the leather, creating dents as he grinds his hips forcefully into yours.

“No,” you moan, shaking your head as he nearly smacks you into the door with how much force he puts behind his thrusts, “There’s no one else for me but you.”

The car turns a corner, causing you to slide to the side and nearly making you fall onto the floor of the cab. Javier catches you just before it happens, dragging you back to him with the help of the car driving straight again. You giggle and it makes you clench around his dick. He pants heavily, “Stop laughing. I can’t—“ 

“Sorry,” you try calming down, but to no avail. 

Javier ends up shutting your mouth by picking up his pace. He drives brutally into your cunt until you think you might split right down the middle, replacing the giggles with high-pitched noises of ecstasy. 

Your arms come up over your head just like when you were dancing. You wonder if Javier notices during the few seconds it takes you to find purchase on the car door, gripping until your knuckles are white. 

“Fuu-uuck,” you swear, eyebrows knitted together as the pressure builds behind your clit, “Javi.”

“Come for me,” he growls, staring wildly into your eyes whilst he fucks you to the point of tears. 

A weak noise close to a feeble cry leaves your mouth just before you come but then your voice cracks as the world fades to nothingness when the first wave of pleasure crashes over your half-naked form. You feel only the sensation of your cunt choking around Javier’s dick and the car humming underneath the two of you. 

Javier follows soon after. A streetlight outside lights up the car as he peaks, and you gasp at the sight of his face screwed up in pleasure. His mouth hangs open, brows furrowed and there’s sweat threatening to drip from his brow. 

He fills you up with his warm seed. You relish in it, letting out a soft moan as he coats your walls. You’re not actually trying for more children right now, but you know It’s a way of marking you and that thought alone is enough to make you not care - for now. 

It takes a moment to find your bearings again. You pant with aftershocks, but the situation has you quickly pulling down your dress again despite not feeling ready to move. You make sure to sit up in a way that coats the dress in come instead of the seat because already you feel it drip out of you. 

Javier gets off of you and sits up too, tugging his oversensitive dick into his jeans once more. He does whatever he can to make it look like he hasn’t just fucked your lights out, but the car feels hot and the windows have started to fog.

You dare to lean into him when there are only a few minutes left of your car ride. He wraps his arm around you, kisses your hair affectionately, “You tired?”

“Just need a little nap,” your eyes flutter closed, “Cockdrunk, you know.” 

“No one does it like me.”

“No one.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[thebroccolination]

Well, well, well.

It appears that there’s an elegant fairy-dusting of hate comments about me on Twitter from some Peraya interfans who are furious that I made this video:

Why, you ask?

Well, apprently I spent days making that video because I’m only “pretending” to be a Peraya.

I’m sorry y’all had to find out this way that I’ve been posting joyfully about KristSingto for five years as a long con ruse. I haven’t been informed why I did that. I’ll let you know if they tell me.

Maybe they’ll also tell me why I was “pretending” to be a fan of Singto while I was supporting GawinKrist and “Be My Favorite.” I’d love to know that, too.

Because of course a fan can’t support multiple projects by the same person. A fan can’t like KristSingto AND GawinKrist. It can’t be that I like seeing Krist succeed no matter whether he’s paired with Singto or pursuing solo projects with other people.

���

Sarcasm aside, those individuals can yell all they want about how fake I am and how they’ll never forgive me for What I Did.

Because tell me: what did I do?

I’ll go first: 1) I made threads calling for people to respect Krist’s friendships with Singto and Gawin against the toxic fans on both sides who were constantly fighting each other. I also 2) named Peraya as the ones who were starting throwaway accounts to attack Gawin throughout the summer of 2023 while “Be My Favorite” was airing. (Some Peraya believe that Gawin’s own fans made throwaway accounts to “make Peraya look bad”—and yes, I can’t prove they weren’t, but I also can’t see Gawin’s fans calling him a “half-breed” even under the guise of anonymity. I can see it done by fans who were so angry about BMF they refused to acknowledge the series while it was airing and regularly tweeted about how just thinking about it made them want to cry, though. I used context clues to assume who might have a vested interest in going after Krist’s costar.)

And then 3) in 2024, I stood up for Krist because he had been forced to hide his friendship with Gawin for months. He closed his Broadcast permanently because there were Peraya putting vomit and angry emojis on the two photos he posted of Gawin. He was getting hate on Twitter from some Peraya for 1) not fanservicing with Singto enough, 2) betraying Singto by leaving the outing with Gawin instead of staying at the hotel with Singto, and 3) ruining KristSingto’s comeback, among other things.

There were alt accounts calling Gawin a “half-breed” and a “mutt” and a “leech” the same way some GawinKrist fans were calling Singto “desperate” and “broke” and a “leech,” and I was so tired of all of it I left Twitter.

I also stood up for Singto in all of that.

In every thread I made about this for two years, I said we should support Krist and show respect to Singto and Gawin because they’re people he cares about.

I archived my Twitter, so I have receipts of everything I said, every thread I made defending Krist, Singto, and Gawin.

All I’ve ever stood for in this fandom is unity and harmony and kindness like the My Little Pony fan I am, but I won’t tolerate toxicity and aggression. I block for it regularly, and I left Twitter in part because of all of this.

Fandom is a community, and common decency and respect for each other are fundamental parts of that. If you want to spend your time in fandom fighting other fans and complaining about everything instead of using that energy to uplift Krist and Singto when they’re creating art to admire, then, quite frankly, you’re going to make people less likely to want to join the Peraya fandom.

So let me be very clear:

1) Krist and Singto are and always have been my priority as a Peraya.

2) I am creating videos and projects to bring new fans into our fandom because it will be fun.

3) If you keep bullying people and creating vendettas and making blacklists, you are going to make this fandom a worse place to be in, and people won’t want to be part of it. You are the reason some Peraya have left. They were tired of your negativity, and they walked away because of it.

I am building community. Build with me or build your own, but this isn’t going to help KristSingto in their comeback.

Focus on them, because that’s what I’m going to do.

There, I think that’s clear enough.

And to any new fans reading this and going, “Yikes,” then welcome! If you’re looking for community, feel free to join my KristSingto Discord server where we’ve been happily discussing “The Ex-Morning”!

We have rewatches of every episode weekly at 18:00GMT on Saturdays and 7:00GMT on Sundays. I look forward to seeing you there!

[animeyanderelover]

Could I request how it would be with indra,madara,Sakura,tsunade,kakashi,itachi,obito,Sasuke,shisui with a request like this?Thank you ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Sure.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, clinginess, delusional mindset

Hold me or I won't be able to sleep

Indra Otsutsuki

💜He isn’t someone overly obsessed with physical affection so if his s/o is someone who’s clingy, they’ll have to be prepared for Indra to snap at them if they annoy him. Sure, he is slightly more tolerant because you’re his darling but that doesn’t make his words and actions less harsh. Indra feels torn apart about this habit of yours. On the one hand he naturally enjoys the dependency factor it has because it ensures that you won’t be able to ever leave him except if you desire to become the world’s greatest insomniac.

💜The undeniable clinginess that comes alongside with it tends to get on his nerves at times though because if you want to head to bed and go to sleep and he doesn’t, he’ll obviously ignore your pleads to tag along. Indra stays up at night pretty long as he deems training to be more important than going to bed early. You’ll have to adjust your sleep schedule to his own as you can’t fall asleep without him. Indra forces you to join his training anyways and if you don’t do well in his eyes, he won’t join you in bed. If you want to sleep, earn it.

Madara Uchiha

🌑Madara is a little bit more smug about the whole ordeal because he takes more pride in the fact that his s/o literally needs him if they want to enjoy some sleep. It’s like candy for his possessive side. Like, he’s sometimes just making fun of his darling because of this, whether jokingly or in a more condescending tone depending on the strength of your relationship at that point. At times he’s denying you by not going to bed and if you want him to cuddle you, you’ll have to beg him and stroke his ego.

🌑He has an image to keep outside your home though as the head of the Uchiha Clan so those playful acts of his are mostly only reserved for your private chambers. It isn’t uncommon for Madara to be gone long too, whether this is because of a meeting with the eldest or a mission. In such cases you're forbidden to seek him out or join him as in such moments he has to keep his scary face. As tempting as it may be to have you on his lap, especially during boring council meetings, you’ll play it safe by waiting for him.

Tsunade Senju

🐌Tsunade is a doctor so she is very fixated on the health of her darling. This includes quite obviously also their sleep schedule. Now, the beautiful lady is a tad bit happy when she realizes that her darling needs her if they want to sleep but she isn’t blinded enough to make the right judgement as a medic. That this dependence isn’t normal and could also be interfering with your sleep. She’s worried that she might not always be able to join you in bed which would leave you unable to sleep and could harm your health.

🐌The Fifth Hokage finds herself growing clingier as a result of that and often takes her with you, even in the office of the Hokage. Honestly, as guilty as she might feel because she still knows that such a habit is unhealthy, she also can’t deny that she adores it a bit. Whenever you fall asleep on her lap, she fawns over you, denying all the paperwork once again in favor of cuddling you. Still, Tsunade tries to clear her own schedule to go to bed with you so that you can fall asleep soundly and get a good nights rest.

Kakashi Hatake

📖A very tiny part of Kakashi is also a bit flattered about the fact that you need him with you if you want to fall asleep. Underneath his often nonchalant attitude is after all a possessive and paranoid man so he feels weirdly reassured as he knows at one point for sure that you’ll never leave him. For the biggest part though, Kakashi feels pressured and is even worried. His own sleep schedule is all over the place after all and even more so if he’s already the Hokage. In between all of that he needs to put you in somewhere.

📖Whilst his own health and sleep schedule may not matter that much to Kakashi, it’s a different story for you so in the end he’s still stressed. The man does his best to be there for you though. He’s probably a bit hesitant to take you with him in the Hokage office where you might fall asleep on his lap. Don’t misunderstand, he loves it normally when you sit on his lap but that’s only for when you two are alone at home. He’s far too protective and possessive to let you be so vulnerable in the office and be seen by others.

Obito Uchiha

🔥Truthfully, at this rate Obito might as well be an insomniac who rarely gets a good amount of sleep. He denies sleep in favor of his plans and nightmares of Rin’s death might just be another fact that keeps him away from laying down for a much needed rest. The Uchiha is unhealthily attached to his darling though and for that willingly joins them in bed whenever they head to bed. He’s already quite co-dependent on you so the knowledge that you also depend on him for your sleep makes him quite happy.

🔥You only feel secure enough to drift off to sleep when being held by him, you have no idea how happy this makes him. Obito is very clingy to top it all so you don’t even need to ask him, the moment you go to your bedroom he’s already eagerly following you. He has no sleep schedule of his own after all, even if he had one, he’d still adjust it to fit your own. He is for the largest amount of time not even really sleeping, he’s just watching you sleeping. That sounds quite creepy but for Obito it’s almost therapeutic.

Shisui Uchiha

🍂Shisui is for the biggest part quite responsible and focused on your well-being and as much as he’d like to bask in this all more, he can’t help but be worried. Your dependency would under different circumstances be quite sweet but not when it stops you from getting the healthy amount of sleep you require. Shisui is an Anbu and one of the most skilled and feared on top of that so he is on missions which can be very lengthy. He’s used to it but now he has to worry about you in the back of his mind.

🍂You can’t just skip on sleep during his absence so what Shisui does is seek out a good medic to help with your condition. You need to learn to sleep even without him. If you need to take special sleeping pills or other medication to fall asleep, you’ll do so. Otherwise you’ll worry your lover very much. Whenever Shisui isn’t on missions, he can’t deny that he spends more time with you, worried about your health due to the severe lack of sleep. He always forces you into a strict sleep schedule when he’s with you.

Itachi Uchiha

🍡Itachi has similar problems as Shisui but even more severe as he’s a member of the Akatsuki and his missions can go on for a long time too. What is he supposed to do then? You can’t get any sleep or very little without him. He didn’t expect you to develop such a co-dependence on him when he abducted you and neither did you but now both of you are here and Itachi just feels incredibly sorry for you. He sees how much it affects you whenever he returns from a mission, how the lack of sleep drives you insane.

🍡He spends as much time as he can with you, secretly starts dreading the next mission where he has to leave you alone. He tries everything he can, even searches on his missions for some herbs or other things that are supposed to help someone to fall asleep and brings them with him in hopes that it’ll help you. If the problem gets too severe, he even starts considering to bring you along on missions. He’s quite hesitant though as those are always dangerous and he’s far too protective to ever get you in risky situations.

Sasuke Uchiha

💙Similar to Madara, I can see Sasuke as feeling quite smug with this situation. It helps to satiate his possessive side more as it gives him an unfair advantage over you. If you don’t want to be robbed of your precious sleep, you’ll have to stay with him after all. Especially during his teenage years though I can’t help but see him as more difficult as you have to be careful with how clingy you are and how your sleep schedule works. Sasuke is very focused on training after all so he won’t go earlier to bed just for you.

💙Whilst you’re forced to adjust your schedule to his own during his younger years, Sasuke is far more relaxed as he gets older. Both of you are traveling around at that point, but he doesn’t mind stopping somewhere if you want to take a nap. Something that truly never changes though is his defensive behavior against anyone who might stumble upon you sleeping. Partially because he’s embarrassed to be caught cuddling his s/o, mostly because he absolutely won’t allow anyone else to see you in such a vulnerable cute state.

Sakura Haruno

🌸Sakura takes this problem a tad bit more serious than her teacher does. As a doctor how could she not, she should know best how important a healthy amount of sleep is. Not that she is one to talk, considering that she often spends time overworking herself in the hospital. Perhaps that’s where the problem starts though, she works a lot. Surgeries, daily routines of checking the health of her patients and so many other stuff that keeps her from coming home earlier. Even she gets called out for working too much.

🌸She definitely tries to come up with different methods to hopefully get you to fall asleep. Tea, exercise or something else. If she realizes that it has little to no effect, she tries something else. She either tries to actually head the advice of other doctors in the hospital and finish her shift on time or she invites you to just tag along and spend your time in the hospital with her. You don’t have time to sit on her lap though as Sakura is often busy with patients, if she has some paperwork to do though she will allow you to just sit on her lap and doze off.