#thank you Roxy once again

[shadestar413]

The things I’d do to this man

[glambots]

Wow. So I guess we're possibly getting a sequel? Because...that ending was uh. Hm. It sure was an ending.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

So. The whole "making little recipe zines for Chica" thing has taken over my brain. The second I get back on my meds you know this is gonna be the next thing I focus on

If the people in charge of FNaF won't give Chica what she deserves, then I'll do it for them

[strawberry-barista]

FFkoma upon meeting Ate'lier: Man, what a bitch. Good thing I'm a bigger bitch.

And then they proceeded to bully Joker relentlessly.

Seriously, y'all, he's the worst dad.

[celestie0]

choso x reader | punk rock au [18+]

in another life ch.1 cupid's arrow

ᰔ pairing. punk rock au - bass player! choso x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. you and choso were lovers in college when him and his rock band were just nobodies with nothing but a dream, but when his band strikes a deal with an up-and-coming record label in tokyo, you make the tough decision to break up with him since you couldn’t go with him to the city. flash forward seven years, his band is the biggest rock band in the world, n you move from the countryside to tokyo with your fiancé nanami to start your new life together. but in the heart of the city, home to many, there’s one person there that still has the power to turn your whole life upside down. and when you run into him again after all those years, feelings you didn’t know were still haunting you come crashing back all at once, and you’re not sure what it is you want from your life anymore.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, punk rock au, partying, drinking/alcohol, weed usage, cigarette usage, romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, second chance romance, time skips, love triangle, bad boy choso, slight age gap (five yrs), longterm pining, jealousy, messy decisions, you know the drill

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 6)

ᰔ words. 10.2k

a/n. hellooooo aaa welcome to my new choso fic :'') i'm so excited for this one! i'm just laughing at how i cannot just stick to a oneshot idea and somehow end up planning out a fullblown series instead hahah. but anyways, i hope you enjoy! thank you to everyone that wanted to be on the taglist, i'm really looking forward to diving into this story. see you at the bottom!!

alsooo my m00tie @sykosugu and i decided to post for our fics at the same time hehe she has a really spicy suguru x reader fic called 'on the run' that i highly recommend so go check that out as well if you're interestedd <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 (pending)

“and there was something about you that now, i can’t remember. it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.”

present day. summer.

“We’re gonna miss you so, so, so much, love,” Mai groans, pulling you in towards her for a hug and you reciprocate with fondness.

Another pair of arms wraps around you, grip much tighter and you protest through a difficult breath. “Do you really have to go?” Nobara asks.

You tap on the skin of her arm, urging her to ease her hold in this group hug, and she finally relents and the three of you pull apart from one another. There’s a slight gasp from your lips as you breathe in fresh summer air. “I do, Nobie, I’m sorry. Nanami said it’s the final decision.”

You’re standing on hot concrete in front of a little countryside cottage that you’ve called home for years, but will soon just be a memory. You know which light switches illuminate corners of the rooms, and which creaking wood panels on the floor to avoid when looking for a midnight snack. It’s where you spent years studying for finals, arguing with your mom, learning how to care for Ms. Roxie, and it’s where you fell in love. More than once.

Your parents gave the house to you and Nanami once the two of you became engaged, but that blessing was soon to be given away, as Nanami received news six months ago that he was being promoted and relocated to Tokyo. Now, you have two bags in your hands, your purse slung around your shoulder, and a suitcase filled to the brim with the life you’ve tried to stuff in it. Your taxi driver has the other suitcase, because there were some things you couldn’t leave behind after all, and he’s putting it in the trunk right now.

“Nanami is so rude to take you from us,” Mai sighs, “but at least you’ll be one of those cool city girls now. So scary. I heard trends change faster there than the leaves on Rowan tree during spring.”

Nobara lets out a gasp that’s only half exaggerated. “No way! It can’t be!”

The taxi driver calls after you with a quick question, to which you answer back with a shout from where you stood. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s time to get moving, as you’ll be taking a connecting train once you reach Tokyo that you need to be on time for. And then he’ll be there. Nanami will be waiting for you there, to lead you into the life that he’s started to make for the two of you.

“I’ll call so very often,” you promise the two of them, “and I will miss you two so very often as well.” Tears prickle in your eyes, and it seems to be contagious as they shimmer in Nobara and Mai’s eyes as well. Another group hug takes place between the three of you, harsh sun beating down with birds chirping in the distance as you try to take in the last few moments you’ve been granted of this place. “Take care of Roxie for us,” you say through a sniffle, “to you, it may seem like you’re only the bearer of food for her, but I promise that little kitty will love you two like no other.”

They both nod at you as you pull away, and you swipe at a tear that rolls down your cheek as you roll your suitcase down the pebbled walkway of your now past home.

The taxi driver helps hoist your suitcase into the trunk and places your other two bags into the back seat. You take a seat at the front with him, clicking the passenger seatbelt, and you roll down the window to wave bye with blown kisses as the taxi driver pulls away from the rocky mud road with crunching under the wheels. You watch Mai and Nobara and your home in the side view mirror until they’re no longer visible, but their voices of farewell linger in the air for a moment more.

“Alright, ma’am, bound for Tokyo!” your taxi driver chirps, his rough-looking hands opening and closing a few times to stretch out the joints of his fingers before tightly gripping onto the steering wheel again.

“Yes, Tokyo,” you murmur softly, gaze set out the window of the familiar street shops and stretches of patchy trees you know you’ll miss once you’re in the city.

“What’s your name?” the man asks, a thick country accent rolling off his tongue, with a sweetness like honey.

You turn your head to look at him more closely. The hair of his eyebrows is bushy, somewhat unkempt, and he has thick lines across his cheeks and forehead that can only mean that he’s lived a lot of life.

You tell him your name and he nods slowly as the two of you stop at a through road, a few school children hurrying past before he turns right onto the main road. “That’s a nice name. Which one of your parents gave it to ya?”

“Um. Both of them?”

He lets out a noise of acknowledgement, and doesn’t ask a further question. You smooth out the fabric of your long skirt with a hand, then toy with the band of your simple watch. Just when you think a comfortable silence has fallen between the two of you, and you think you have the luxury of losing yourself in your thoughts with sights beyond the polished glass window, the man speaks up again.

“Alright then, miss, tell me a story.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Pardon?”

“We’re gonna be spendin’ three hours in this car together, darlin’. It’s either I talk your ear off or you talk mine off,” he says, broad shoulders rolling backwards once as he gets comfortable in his driving position.

“Uh…do we need to talk at all?”

He glances over at you for a moment. The car wheels grind over rocks on gravel road near an agricultural field, and his fingers flex once again on the wheel. “You younger generations are so stuck in your own worlds. Entertain some conversation with the poor old taxi driver, will ya?”

You sigh, folding your hands in your nap neatly. “Alright. I don’t really have many stories to tell, though.”

“A young lady like you, packin’ up her whole life to move to a big city? I beg to differ,” he counters.

His words have you tucking your bottom lip under your teeth, a few blinks of your eyelids to process his observation of you. Your mind searches for stories to tell. Maybe that moment last week when you watched a momma duck waddle across a bridge with all seven of her baby ducklings. Or maybe you could tell him about that time you drove your car into a ditch the night of the comet festival and you swear you saw a UFO in the sky. The story you’ve been telling a lot lately, though, was the one of how Nanami proposed.

But then there’s a different story that comes to mind. With hazy images of blinding stage lights in dim venues, cigarette smoke wafting through the air, sounds of bass and drums and cheers. Smell of dry grass, the feeling of your back against a blanket, heart beating fast underneath the stars in front of a twinkling lake. And forever in your memory, the patterns of his inked skin.

“You got a boyfriend?” the man asks, suddenly.

“Are…are you hitting on me?” you ask awkwardly.

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he shakes his head, lifting his left hand up from the steering wheel and turning the back of it to face you. A silver ring adorning his fourth finger shimmers from the reflected sunlight through the window. “Happily married. Been with my missus for 22 years.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face as you relax into your seat a little, feeling calmer. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry for assuming. And I have a fiancé, actually.”

“Oh?” he chirps, stealing a quick glance at your left hand that was still folded neatly underneath your right one in your lap. “How come I’m not seein’ a ring?”

You tug at the small chain around your neck, a chill felt as diamond stone and cold metal drags against the skin of your sternum before you pull out your own promise of marriage, dangling it in front of your chest for him to steal another glance at. “I wear it around my neck. I’m a pottery teacher, so I usually take it off when showing my students any demos. I figured if I kept taking it off like that, I might lose it, so I just wear it around my neck now.”

“That’s interesting,” he comments, “It’s a real nice ring, that’s for sure! Tell me about this man you’re marryin.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Nanami. It’s been six months since you’ve seen him, since he relocated to Tokyo first, and you’ve missed him every day since. You were in the middle of the academic year at the elementary school you taught at, so they asked you to stay back, but Nanami had already accepted the promotion, thus the two of you made the decision that he would move to Tokyo first to get situated and you’d soon follow in the summer. It was a lot of stress to handle as just one person; searching for apartments on top of managing the heightened expectations from his boss from his new role, but he did it all without a complaint. Because he loves you, and that’s who Nanami was. Someone who would move mountains for you. He’s worked hard to make a place for you in Tokyo, one to call home.

“He really loves me,” you say to the man, softly.

“And you love him?”

“So much.”

“Was he your first love?”

Your breath catches in your throat from his question, a small chill running down your spine. The silence that settles could’ve lasted two seconds or two centuries, and you never would’ve known.

You lick your lips before answering. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Hmm…” the man hums. Bumpy roads are now smooth as he turns onto properly laid roads, the exit from your town onto intercity roads. “I can tell.”

“You can tell?” you ask, skeptic in your tone as you tilt your head at him.

“I can tell from your voice that there was someone else before. Someone who meant a whole lot to you, but he went away for some reason,” he says.

You’re not sure why there’s a lump in your throat from his words, a heavy thing with so much substance that it threatens to weigh your heart as well. Your eyes study the side of his face. “You’re getting all of that from my voice?”

The man’s expression is blank as if it were tabula rasa, something so different from the way you’ve felt for so long now, like your heart has been torn in two. There was something so tempting about it; the luxury of a clean slate. Of a new beginning. A fresh start. And it’s hard not to imagine how you would’ve painted things differently.

“Tell me about him,” the man says, the story he was looking for having been found. “Your first love.”

“He…” you start, shocked that you’re actually answering, but it’s like an invitation you can’t resist, “he was my first boyfriend…my first serious boyfriend. I met him the summer after high school. During a summer like this one.”

.

.

.

seven years ago. summer.

chapter 1. cupid’s arrow.

“C’mon, faster!” Mai exclaims, her hand wrapped around your wrist to tug you across the dim streets of downtown. 

“Just— wait— Mai, please, slow down,” you’re stumbling after her, feet failing to keep up, and you almost crash right into her when she comes to a sudden halt on the sidewalk.

“This is it,” she says, staring up at the sporadically blinking neon lights of what appears to be a small venue, black marquee letters that spell out Backseat Serenade Tonight @ 10pm stand out to you in a way that feels haunting. “We’re so late, let’s head inside.”

Mai drags you inside, and the security guy is less than thrilled by the commotion as he stands in front of closed double doors. You can feel the bass of music vibrating the walls, accompanied by loud shrill screams and chants coming from inside, and the red velvet flooring underneath your feet fuel you with static as you two approach the man dressed in full black.

Mai fumbles with her purse to pull out her phone, and the man scans the barcoded tickets on her screen before giving the two of you wristbands to wear and then he opens the door for the two of you.

The inside of the venue is small but packed, minimal lighting save for moving lights that illuminate the band on stage, but it’s even harder to see anything over the heads of people with their hands up in the air. Mai’s grip on your forearm is tight as she roughly weaves the two of you through the crowd, determined in her gait but you feel the need to apologize to the people she’s shoving in the process. You’re surprised at how fast the two of you make it to the front barricades, thanks to Mai’s nimbleness alone, and your eyes raise to the scene onstage through wafting smoke through the air.

“Alright, alright, alright,” one of the band members chimes right as the final instrumentals of the song begin to fade. His hair is a pale silver under dusty lighting, pushed up from out of his face by a black headband snapped to his forehead, and his eyes are distinctly blue. He has an electric guitar hanging from his neck by a thick black strap. He raises both of his hands up into the air, waving them down a few times to calm down the crowd, and there are scattered hushes surrounding you and Mai. “This is our last song, and we just want to thank you all so much for coming out tonight! This crowd’s the best we’ve ever had!” 

The people cheer in response as a light and relaxed melody begins to tune together from the instrumentals on stage. You hear Mai groan beside you. “What the fuck?! We missed the entire set?!” 

Your hands curl around the cold metal of the barricade dividers and your eyes sweep across the stage. There’s a man in the far back with short black hair, bouncing his leg up and down as he’s seated behind a drum set, fidgeting with wooden sticks in his hands, and you’re puzzled by the fact that he’s wearing a very poorly fitted suit onstage. Off to the right, a man with pink hair is messing with the headphones snapped to his ears in front of an electric keyboard, spread fingers pressing down on chords, and you can vaguely see the black nail polish at the tips of his fingers. A woman with mid length blonde hair and pink highlights stands at the front, her hand wrapped around the mic resting on top of the stand. She’s laughing, tipping her head back at something else the electric guitar player says over the mic, but you’ve drowned out the words because your eyes finally land on what’s directly in front of you.

With an almost bored expression on his face, a man stands with a matte black bass guitar hung from his neck as he has one foot up on the top of a subwoofer located flush to the edge of the stage. His hair is raven black, longer at the nape of his neck with shorter layers scattered, and tendrils fall over his face. There’s a glint to his polished black shoes off of where you’re standing, and he’s wearing tight black jeans that cling to the thick and lean muscles of his calves and thighs, with a leather belt fastened around the circumference of his hips. The shirt that’s tucked into his jeans is just as tight to his skin, and a small gasp leaves your lips when you take in the sight of his arms covered in intricate patterns of ink. His right arm is practically covered from the wrist all the way up to the cut of his short sleeve, likely beyond, and his left arm has ink traveling up to his forearm only, like he’s still working on mapping it all out. You watch the way his biceps flex as he bends his arms, bringing his hands up to his face to push his hair back, and your heart is keeping fast rhythm with the music. 

“Cho!” the woman at the front speaks into the mic, turning her head to look at this man who you’re sure is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “You’ve hardly said a single word tonight, baby. Not that that’s unusual though. Why don’t you say a few words before we kick off the last song?”

A bunch of whoos!! and ahhhs!!! and yesss!!! scatter throughout the crowd in the form of cheers and you watch the man furrow his brows together, a scowl forming on his face. There’s a band of black underneath his eyes that runs across the bridge of his nose, with perpendicular lines resembling arrows running down his cheeks. Dark purple eyes that match the dark shadows around them glint under flickering stage lighting as he takes his foot off the speaker and walks a few steps backwards to position himself at his stationed mic. 

“Fine,” he says, and you’re watching the way his lips barely brush against the mic as he speaks, “This is our last song. It’s called Lost Cause. Enjoy. Or don’t. It’s up to you. Who the fuck am I to tell you what to do.”

There’s only a slight beat of silence from the crowd before they’re cheering again, while his band members just stare at him stunned. The white-haired electric guitarist yells into his mic something like  “THAT’S IT?!” before the drum player cuts him off with three taps of his sticks in the air, and then the song commences from them on practiced reflex. 

The energy from the crowd is loud in the last few minutes of the show, smoke rising in the air from the machines spread across the raised stage, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the bass player. You rest your forearms on the cold metal in front of you, the sight of Mai jumping up and down in your periphery as she headbangs and shakes her hair. 

The bass player’s eyes start to scan the venue within what seems to be the final chorus of the song, chin tipping up and fingers continuing to strum as he assesses the back of the crowd first, then gaze darting throughout the center, before he begins to study the front barricade. You watch his every movement, mapping the trail of his sight, and your heart skips a beat when those dark eyes finally fall on yours. 

His eyes briefly flicker to your left, to continue his study of the crowd, but it’s as if his brain just registered something with a delay, and he quickly moves his gaze back to you in a double take. His eyes widen, bored expression quickly turned into one of surprise with a glint to his pupils, and you swear you’ve been struck by an arrow to your heart.

“Yaaaay! Thank you everyone!” the woman at the front exclaims, pulling her mic from the stand to walk around to make work of the crowd. The white-haired man approaches the edge of the stage with a pleased grin on his face, high-fiving all of the outstretched arms, and the man at the keyboard simply waves a few times before incessantly tuning buttons on his headphones. Drum boy hasn’t stopped playing some sort of loud rhythm as an encore. Your sight is set back onto the bass player, and he’s looking off somewhere else now. Somewhere backstage. 

“Hey!” the white-haired man exclaims once he’s made it in front of the two of you. “Mai! You made it!”

She reaches out to grab his forearm, tugging down harshly so he’s stumbling and dropping one knee to the stage floor, kneeling. “Of course I was gonna make it! Thanks for the tickets,” she’s yelling over loud ambient cheers and music, “this is my friend y/n, by the way. Oh, and this is Gojo, he’s the guy I was telling you about.”

You nod at him, and try to accept his outstretched hand when someone bumps you from behind and your hand is in favor of stabilizing yourself over the divider instead.

You can barely hear the laugh from Gojo’s position on the raised stage. “Just meet us backstage! We can chat for a bit with proper introductions and all.”

As the crowd begins to dissipate with people moving through the sets of double doors out back, Gojo hops off stage to take you and Mai through a side door that leads into a hallway that lines the back of the stage. You look up into the high ceilings with metal structural poles banding between the walls, and the dim yellow lighting in small bulbs bolted to the walls like a runway remind you of movie theater exit routes.

“So, what’d you guys think of the show?” Gojo asks, his arms raised up and hands interlocked behind his neck in a casual-not-so-casual way as he sends the two of you a lazy look over his shoulder. 

“Well, we only made it for one song since miss barista over here was running late from her shift,” she sighs, whacking your arm once with the back of her hand. You glance down and realize you didn’t even have the time to take your frilled and wrinkled apron off. “But, from what we did get to hear, AMAZING! AWESOME! SPECTACULAR!”

Gojo is grinning wide as he turns around to face the two of you, continuing to walk but backwards as he slaps the raised hand that Mai had in the air for him. “I’m so glad, I felt the pressure to please was high since I’ve been hyping up our shows to you for so long.”

“We’ve only known each other for like two weeks.”

“I know. But PSYCH 210 lecture at the ass crack of dawn really brings two people together, y’know.”

Mai and Gojo continue to laugh and talk about random things college-related, and there’s a stirring feeling in your chest that you’re surrounded by people older and much more well-lived than you. You’ve just graduated high school, barely a few months ago, but Mai was a few years older than you, so any time she tries to introduce you to her college friends, you feel the need to perform or be someone that you’re not so they’ll like you, despite the fact that you’re aware of the fallacy in that. And tonight, that responsibility feels much more daunting for some reason.

There are voices heard further down the hall, and as you approach, you notice the drum guy, keyboard guy, and devilishly handsome bass guy are all loitering around in that area, along with a few other people they seemed to have invited backstage. 

Gojo walks up to them, grabbing onto the bass man’s hand firmly before patting him on the back, then slings his arms around the other two. “This is Higurama,” he says, rubbing the top of the black-haired guy’s head with the knuckles of his fist, “he does drums for us. And this is Sukuna,” he says, about to repeat the same gesture to the top of his head but his wrist is grabbed and twisted, “ow, fuck, fuck, fuck– sorry.” Sukuna lets go of his wrist, scowl dissipating into sadistic amusement, and Gojo’s holding his wrist, now slightly red from the burn, with a pout on his face. “He does the keyboard. And all the techno sounds. And some other stuff I’ve frankly no fucking clue about.”

The two of them acknowledge you and Mai, along with the few other people who Gojo seems to know as well, and then Gojo’s approaching the bass player again before resting his elbow up on his shoulder, leaning his weight onto him and the man just crosses his arms across his chest, sending Gojo a side-eye. “Mai, I think you two have met before, but this is Choso. Choso Kamo, our bass player. Best bass player I’ve ever known to be honest. Be careful though, he might bite you.”

Choso scowls, rolling his shoulder back once to get rid of Gojo’s resting elbow. His eyes are on yours, boring into you deep, and when he darts his tongue out briefly to wet his bottom lip, you finally notice the silver lip ring near the corner of his mouth. “Hi. Nice to meet you,” he says, hand outstretched and you shake it with a mention of your name to him. The skin on his fingers feel rough from play, a small sacrifice to pay for the talent he’s harnessed over the years from plucking at strings. His eyes sweep down you once. “Why are you dressed like Strawberry Shortcake?”

“I–” you start, glancing down at your attire and feeling the heat pool in your cheeks, “I just got off a work shift. I work at a cafe.”

“Oh,” he responds, and you notice his hand is still holding onto yours, Your eyes trail the patterns on his skin, visible in more detail up close, and you find yourself lost in every line and swirl and scale and skull and cross, the only thing breaking you out of your trance being Mai’s jab of her elbow to your ribcage.

You gasp, snatching your hand away from Choso, and when you look up at his face, there’s a hint of amusement on it. 

“Babes, he was asking you a question,” Mai says, looking between you and the man in front of you.

“Huh?” you ask, suddenly flustered and you swipe your palm down your work apron to wipe the sweat that begins to perspire at your palm from the lingering heat of his hand.

“I was asking if you liked the show,” Choso says, tilting his head to the side and now he’s allowing his eyes to travel all across you in any way he wants. 

“I loved it,” you respond, almost breathlessly, “it was great. I mean– we only saw, like, one song. But still, really amazing.”  

“Only one song?” Choso asks, his eyebrow raising, “that’s a shame. You’ve gotta come to more shows then.”

Before you can respond, there’s a feminine voice heard down the hallway, sounding an awful lot like the one echoing off the speakers inside the concert venue, and then the blond woman who was the lead singer of the band skips right up to the group formulating in this hallway before wrapping her arms around Choso’s neck and pulling him down towards her in a kiss.

You’re standing there stunned, eyes immediately averting from the scene of the two of them in front of you, but in the corner of your eye you can see his arm wrap around her waist briefly before he pulls her away from him, and the release of her lips from his makes a sound that for some reason creates a pit in your stomach.

“Cho, baby, I just had an insane conversation,” she says, still practically hanging from his neck as she stands on tiptoes, “with this record label guy. He’s apparently hot shit in Tokyo, and he wants to offer us this city gig ‘cause he thinks we’re a potential sign-on, and–”

Choso’s hand reaches to the back of his neck, gripping around her wrist to pull it apart from her other one, and then her arms fall to her sides and her heels flatten to the ground as she blinks up at him. “That’s cool, Sana, but can we talk about that later?”

Gojo’s arms cross his chest as he leans forward, glaring at the woman. “Yeah. And as a band, not just with your lover.”

Sana rolls her eyes and scoffs, placing curled hands low on her hips. “He’s not my lover, bitch. Unless he’s my lover like you’re lovers with a blunt on a sunday– sucked off in a car ‘cause you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“That’s offensive to both of us,” Gojo grumbles but Choso just sighs, unbothered, as he rubs at the back of his neck. He makes eye contact with you again, and his expression sobers as though he forgot for a second that you were still standing there. 

Sana turns to you and Mai. “Hi, I’m Sana, nice to meet you guys. Sorry, I thought you two were some of our other friends, otherwise I wouldn’t have kissed Cho in front of you. I hate PDA, trust me.” 

Mai lets out an awkward laugh as she shakes her hand, and you almost don’t want to shake her hand, but you do just to be polite.

“You didn’t hate PDA that one time I was about to bag the girl I’d been talking to for weeks and you decided to grind your sorry excuse of an ass right up against me in front of her,” Gojo grumbles.

She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Whatever, she thought you were gay anyways. Would’ve done yourself a favor if you actually grabbed my ass.”

She ignores the insulted gesture Gojo makes, cutting off whatever words he was about to spew with words of her own. “What are you girls doing after this? We’re having a post-show party, you two should come.” She glances at you. “Uh, love, I’d ditch the apron though. Unless it’s, like, some sort of fetish for you.”

You’re defeated as your arms cross your torso to grip the hem of your apron and pull it up over your head, shaking your head a bit to allow your hair to fall back into place, and then you fold the frilly article of clothing neatly before hanging it over your arm. “It’s not,” you sigh, too exhausted to be subject to the title of your occupation anymore. A small flicker of your eyes to Choso tells you he’s staring at you.

Sana shrugs. “So you pretty ladies wanna come?”

Mai shakes her head. “No, sorry, my baby here,” she says, wrapping her arm around yours tightly, “just graduated high school recently, so she’s too young for a party. I’ve got a responsibility to look after her. And throwing her into a room full of sleazy drunk punk college dudes is the opposite of looking after her.”

Sukuna comes around, leaning his arm against the wall, smirk on his face, as he eyes you like you’re something to steal. “Just graduated high school? So you just turned eighteen, sweetheart?”

Mai glares daggers at him. “Get the fuck away from her, Super Senior. You’re icky. Also, case in point proven.”

Sana whacks the back of Sukuna’s head, and he all but growls at her. “Stop being creepy,” she reprimands him before turning to Mai again. “No, I swear, it’s not like that. It’s chill, minimal alcohol. No drugs. Just a small get-together with a few of our fellow friends, and friends of fellow friends, from the music scene.” She leans against Choso’s arm, wide eyes looking up at him, but he doesn’t lean into her. “Right, Cho? No scary guys for her to worry about?” 

His eyes narrow at you, raking down your figure again, and his chest moves a little faster with his breath. “I’m against it. It’s no place for an eighteen-year-old. You’re a fucking idiot for trying to invite a girl who just recently graduated from highschool to a house party. She’s practically a kid.”

Your heart sinks from his words, and you feel juvenile standing in front of him, in a way that makes you angry and embarrassed at the same time, and you can’t bite back the words in time, “Whatever, at least I haven’t been on crack since the day I was born like you probably were.”

Almost all heads in this small hallway snap to you, if they weren’t already there before, wide eyes blinking before Gojo bursts out into a laugh, which dominoes into Mai’s laughter, and you barely register the way Sana looks you up and down once before forcing a smile. Choso’s surprised expression turns into a disgruntled one as he crosses his arms across his chest, and you can’t help but watch the stretch of his inked skin over his muscles as they flex. 

“I’ve never done crack, shortcake, and your lame insult only proves my point on your immaturity,” he scowls, leaning his upper body forward towards you, and his gaze briefly drops to your lips.

Sana comes in between the two of you, pressing herself up against him to get him away, and he takes an involuntary step back and now he’s scowling at her too. She turns around to face you, and there’s that forced smile again. “Uh, y’know what, sweets? Cho is sooo totally right, no place at all for a—I’m sorry, how old did you say you were?”

“Eighteen,” you say with a slight grit to your teeth.

“Oh! Yeah, no place for you, sorry,” she says, with a small jut of her bottom lip to signal a pout.

You roll your eyes at her, then glance past her at Choso who’s looking at you like he’s still got a few retaliating words for you on his tongue, but then he’s dropping his gaze to the neckline of your shirt, eyeing the shape of your breasts, even dipping further down your legs and you let out a scoff.

“You sure enjoy checking me out for someone you think is practically a kid,” you spit back.

He’s not angry this time, the corner of his mouth simply tipping up slightly into a smirk. “I meant you’re too young to drink, but you’re old enough to fuck, so spare me the attitude.”

Your cheeks flush at his comment, nonetheless made in front of a group of people who were practically strangers to you, and you’re about to give him a piece of your mind when Mai grabs your forearm and Gojo places himself between you and jerkface. 

“Woah! Look at the time,” Gojo chirps, glancing at his wrist that was absent of any time-telling device but he rolls with it anyway, “should probably head out now, since the venue’s closing soon. Y’know, grab our stuff.”

Mai nods her head at you in response to his words, sending a single glare Choso’s way before exchanging some pleasantries with Gojo and then dragging you down the hallway with her towards the exit.

“Hey–” you begin to complain, her grip on you starting to hurt, and you eventually yank your arm away from her before she opens the backdoor exit. “Let’s go to that party.”

Mai sighs, leaning her back against the door and crosses her arms. “No way. Your mom wanted me to get you home before midnight,” she says as she glances at the time on her phone, “and it’s close to midnight.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m an adult now, I don’t have to adhere to a midnight curfew, like I’m fucking Cindarella.”

Mai raises an eyebrow at you from the profanity, recognizing the fact that it’s something you just forced into your vocabulary in a way that doesn’t suit you. “I already said no.”

“Take me or else I’m going to tell your mom about the nipple piercings you got last week.”

Mai hisses a sharp breath through her teeth. “You’re a bitch.”

“Take me,” you deadpan.

She tilts her head back so that it hits the metal of the door, and then she’s pushing her back against it to open it, the rush of cold wind from outside brushing past the two of you as she steps into the night and you follow her. “Oh my god, fine. But only for a little bit, and let’s get the lie straight right now–you had explosive diarrhea at the concert so I couldn’t take you home right away since you were incapacitated in the restrooms.”

“What? Why do I have to be the one with explosive diarrhea?” you ask, frown on your face but there’s a skip to your step as you follow her down the street to where she very poorly parallel parked and you open the passenger side door. She doesn’t bother answering you as she settles into the driver’s seat and her car roars to life with a few struggling turns of the key in ignition. 

“No drinking,” Mai says, voice strict with eyes locked on yours, and it’s the last thing she says before she starts driving. 

The house is just a few miles from the venue location, and Mai seems to have been there before since she turns the navigation off once she turns onto a street that has her driving switch to from perusal to more casual.  

Gojo is the one to greet you two at the door with wide eyes and a drink in his hand. You notice he’s changed out of his stage attire into something more casual, and likely in a rush too since his hair is disheveled, and you figured that you and Mai barely got here after they did. The surprised look on his face is quick to turn into a pleased one at the sight of the two of you. “Oh sweet you two actually came,” he comments, waving a hand for you two to come inside, “figured Kamo would’ve scared you off.”

You roll your eyes, “where is that jerk? I still have a few choice words for him.”

“Babes, let it go,” Mai sighs, “Not worth your time.”

“I concur,” Gojo says, “but, if you really want, he’s upstairs putting some of my stuff he borrowed for tonight’s show back into my room. You can…” he glances down at you once, “uh. Cuss him to death? Or whatever you can manage, I guess. But just don’t fuck on my bed, please. That’s my only rule.”

“Why do you sound like that’s a rule you’ve had to make often?” Mai scoffs, amused, while your cheeks feel hot. 

Gojo slumps his shoulders in some type of comical defeat. “I don’t wanna talk about it…” he mumbles, voice trailing off and turning on his heel to walk away while Mai follows him off with more follow-up questions he doesn’t seem receptive to answering. 

Your eyes glance over to the staircase, studying for a moment as loud party music fills your ears before making your way over and up the steps. As you head down the hallway leading into bedrooms, the floorboards creak until your sneakers even over soft carpet, and you hear soft sounds of clattering off to the left. There’s a door that’s half ajar leading into a warmly lit room, and you deftly peek your head through the opening.

Choso stands near the foot of the bed inside a messy room, black boxes and cases and wires surrounding him as he fumbles with unplugging some sort of audio station pad from another piece of hardware. His hand grips tightly around the thick black rubber coating of the wire, and you watch the flex of his knuckles that tense the veins running up his arm, sleeve of the shirt he’s worn all night stretching to accommodate the roll of muscle at his upper arm. With a solid yank, the chord releases itself before the wire whacks him straight in the face and he grumbles a fuck under his breath and he rubs the skin of his cheek, to which you can’t help but let out a small laugh at the sight of. 

His furrowed and frustrated expression turns into surprise as his eyes flicker to the entrance of the room. He stands up straight, and then there’s that bored expression again. “Oh. Shortcake. I thought I said you’ve got no business being here.”

“Yeah, about that, I’m waiting for you to apologize to me,” you say, leaning sideways against the doorframe as you cross your arms over your chest. 

He sighs, eyes moving away from yours to busy himself with the jungle of equipment he’s practically drowning in, as if he couldn’t be bothered by your presence right now. “Apologize for what?”

You make your way inside the room, foot pushing aside anything sprawled on the floor that’s in your way so you can continue to approach him, and you stop just when you’re just a step away. His gaze is still set to the ground as he’s crouched over slightly, but it shifts from the speaker he was toying with to the shape of your shoes instead.

“Apologize to me for being so crass,” you say, “after we had just met.”

He slowly straightens his spine, and you’re a little shocked to find the height that he has on you. His expression is curious, eyes narrowing slightly like he has you all figured out already, and it pisses you off. “Crass is such a prissy word to use, princess. Try ‘apologize to me for being a massive dick’ or something, and I’ll start to take you more seriously.”

“Why are you so rude?” you ask, anger building up inside of you all of a sudden. “I’ve barely met you, I don’t see how I could’ve upset you in any way. Yet you’ve already insulted me in multiple ways tonight, and it’s not a cool look for you. Trust me.”

“You’re the one that basically called me a crackhead,” he counters, but there’s no real offense behind it.

“Yeah, because you called me a kid,” you say, face tightening even further with anger, “even though I’m an adult.”

He sighs, closing his eyes in irritation, and tilts his head up to look at the ceiling briefly as his mouth hangs slightly open, all as if he’s running thin of the capacity to deal with this conversation, and then he looks back down at you again. “Shortcake, I didn’t call you a kid ‘cause of your age. I called you a kid ‘cause you’re just so–” he starts, eyes traveling down your body paired with a vague gesture of his hand towards all of you, and you find yourself shifting on your feet to stand a little more poised, “you just seem so innocent and clueless and, uh, forgive me, naive.”

“You’re the clueless one here if you still think negging a girl will get you anywhere with her,” you say, hands clenched in fists at your side now.

There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he tilts his head at you, some of his dark hair falling over his forehead from the motion and a few strands weave with his eyelashes. “I’m not trying to get anywhere with you here, sweetheart, unless you’re wanting that,” he says, voice almost purred at the end as he steps over a guitar case on the floor to get closer to you.

You’re unable to make eye contact with him when he’s close and you can smell the earthy notes of his cologne, mixed with another scent that seems more distinctly him that makes your head spin. Your gaze takes in the sight of his forearm, the one with scattered tattoos trailing up his arm but not yet fully inked in. You wonder what he’s saving the space for, and what he’s willing to let in. 

When your gaze flickers up to his face again, you’re a little surprised to see his expression is softer. He suddenly holds his forearm up in front of you. Your eyes signal confusion to him, but he just keeps his arm up the same.

“You’ve been ogling my tattoos since we met,” he says, voice low, “if you’re curious, then just have a closer look.”

Your breath picks up in speed, and you hesitate for a moment but it’s true. You were curious. Your hands shakily hold onto his forearm to keep it still as you study the ink on his skin. You twist his arm as much as his joint allows, and he lets you handle him in any way you want, and you swear the snake tattooed on his skin moves as if it were alive. A dark blossoming rose with highlights of burgundy red catches your eye near his elbow, and you brush the back of your hand against it. Your fingers accidentally find his pulse at his wrist, and you find his heart is beating fast. 

You run a flat palm up his arm, the skin to skin contact feeling intimate, and your fingers stop when they tuck under the fabric of his sleeve. You feel the warmth and curve of his bicep, lightly wrapping your hand around it, and you blush at the sight of how small your hand looks on him.

“What does this one mean?” you ask, not meaning for it to come out as a whisper, but you feel like his answer is meant to be kept a secret. Your thumb swipes over small roman numerals permanently etched into him over muscle.

“It’s my dad’s military tag,” he responds, voice quiet like yours.

You tear your gaze away from his skin to look up at him, and you realize he’s closed enough distance between the two of you to where his face is just inches away. From the moment you looked up, his eyes have been on your lips, and his brow furrows as if he’s fighting some voice in his head that’s testing this harmony between the two of you in this moment. 

You swear he’s about to kiss you, since there could be no other explanation for the way he was looking at you, but instead he clears his throat and his face is first to distance from you before he pulls his arm back as well, and then a small step backwards. “Sorry,” he says, and he almost sounds awkward. It startles you, because it’s the first time he doesn’t sound cool or calm or collected.

“That-” you start, “...wait, what are you sorry for?”

His eyes widen, and you see the heaviness under them for a moment, “uhh…I’m actually not too sure.”

Your head feels clear now that he’s not close enough to breathe in, and you blink a few times as your annoyance from earlier resurfaces amidst the lingering energy he just broke between you two. “Start with ‘I’m sorry for calling you a kid, and then also just now calling you naive and clueless,’” you say, foot tapping impatiently, “and then, in front of all your bandmates, mocking the fact I’m not old enough to drink, and shamelessly traveling your eyes over me, and then–” your breath catches slightly as the words fail to leave your tongue, cheeks feeling hot, “and then saying–” you try again, but the thought only falls flat, and he’s taking a step closer to you again.

“And then saying that you’re old enough to fuck?” he asks, finishing your sentence for you, but there’s no remorse in his tone at all. 

His hand suddenly finds the small of your back and he pushes gently so you take a stumbled step towards him, like he needed to have you close to him again.  His lips brush against the top of your head, and the sensation sends a hot feeling through your chest. “Choso,” you reprimand him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, like in cynical disbelief, “my name sounds so sweet coming from you.”

It makes no sense, but you grip his shirt at his chest just to make contact with him, and you brave yourself to look up at him, wondering if he can see the hint of worry in your eyes, because he already feels like something you can’t resist.

His eyes are dark now, different from the tenderness in them before, and he’s freely studying the features of your face. “I don’t want to fuck you, Shortcake, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re a little too good for me to do something like that.”

His words say one thing while his eyes say another, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close, and you’re astonished at how little he cares about the clear contradiction in his words from the way he holds you. His gaze slowly travels down from your eyes to your lips.

“What about–” you start, heart beating fast in your chest as you see the glimmer of the silver ring pierced through his lip. You bite back the words.

But he reads your mind, because his head dips down towards yours and he captures your lips in his, slow and sweet at first before pressing more firmly, more decisively with both hands flying to hold your waist. A moan muffles in your throat at the sensation of his bare fingers coyly traveling under the hem of your shirt, and you can’t help but slide your arms up over his shoulders, locking them behind his neck to pull him down closer to you, and he sighs in response as he presses your hips flush against him. The chill metal of his lip ring has the plush of your bottom lip tingling cold, and when his tongue swipes across to warm it for you, your mouth opens with ease. You taste spearmint on his tongue, and his lips curve against yours in what feels like an amused smile, large hands now slid so far up your shirt that his fingers reach the band of your bra.

“Hey, Cho, do you know where–”

The trill of a feminine voice in the air cuts through harshly, and he pulls his lips from yours but not without a moment of reluctance. You two turn your head to the door, and you see Sana standing there, eyes wide and blinking as she takes in the sight of the two of you standing in what feels like a guilty proximity from how her eyes silently curse you. 

You can only manage an awkward laugh, fist shoving against Choso’s shoulder but his hands are still placed firmly on the curve over your lower back, dangerously close to the plush of your ass, and your hips are practically pinned to him while you do all you can to lean your upper body away. “Oh–sorry, this…is not what it looks like–”

“I…” Sana starts, and you can see the hurt in her expression, but she quickly corrects it, “Oh! Ah, was just lookin’ for Cho here,” she says, making her way into the room, and a harsh shove of your fist against Choso’s chest finally has him relenting to let you go. Your posture immediately stiffens when she approaches Choso’s side, and she playfully pushes his arm but the effort is weak. “Kissing girls in Satoru’s room is seriously not a good idea, Cho. That freak probably has cameras in here to make sure people don’t bump uglies in his room again after that New Year’s party.” 

Choso gives her a pointed look, like he wasn’t caught up on that drama, but you’re just standing there with your eyes flicking between the familiarity of the two people standing in front of you. Why wasn’t Sana jealous? She was looking at you ten seconds ago like she was a whole lot of jealous. 

“What are you looking for?” Choso asks her, and she holds her red plastic solo cup with her drink in it out for him to hold as she crouches down to the floor to sift through the equipment now surrounding the three of you.

“My lucky mic,” she says, “Gojo said it’d be here.” There’s a hint of something in her voice, something that mirrors betrayal if you’re perceptive enough. 

You watch Choso lick his lips once, eyes darting to you, before he’s crouching down too to help her look. “For something that allegedly means a lot to you, you sure do a shit job at looking out for it,” he comments with a sigh before pulling out a black case from under three other ones and handing it to her. “It’s here.” 

“I’m–” you say, taking a step back and almost tripping over a guitar case, “I’m, um, going to head downstairs. Mai is probably looking for me.”

Choso raises an eyebrow at you from where he’s still crouched down next to Sana, and he’s about to speak when Sana cuts him off.

“Okay. Bye,” she says, still rummaging through things mindlessly even though she had already been given what she was looking for.

Choso makes a move to stand up, like he wants to see you out the door, but Sana’s hand grabs him by his forearm, eyes still not meeting his, and there’s a beat of confusion in his eyes as he studies the side of her face. But you know what sort of look she probably has in her eyes right now, and you know only because you’re also a girl, and all girls know what it’s like when a guy you love doesn’t want you in the way that you want him. All you can do at this moment is feel sorry for her.

The atmosphere in the room begins to suffocate, and you head out of the door in a rush. 

.

.

.

present day. summer.

“He kissed ya the day he met ya? Hmph! That wouldn’t fly with me,” the man seated beside you says, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he shifts slightly in his seat to puff his chest out. 

“Hmm,” you hum as you look out the window wistfully, memories that you had locked up for so many years opened like a pandora box that fills your chest with warmth but has your fingers trembling with anxiety because you know how it all ends. “You wouldn’t…let a man kiss you on the first day he met you?”

The driver humors you with a hearty laugh from his chest, at least. “Not talkin’ about it that way, darlin’. I’m talkin’ about my daughters. I’ve got two girls of my own. A man should keep his hands to himself the first time he meets a lady. At least that’s what I’ve taught ‘em.”

There’s a small smile that tugs at your lips at his words, the love he has for his daughters heard clearly through his strict tone. You left out a lot of the details that probably would’ve angered him on your behalf even more, so the fact he still ended up getting worked up about it has you a little amused and reflective at the same time. “How old are your daughters?” you ask, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear, watching the wind-rustled plains of grass that you two have been driving by for a while now.

“They’re a little younger than you,” he comments, his expression now a bit more serious, “one just graduated from college, she’s startin’ more school in the city soon, and the other’s still in highschool. She’s turning sixteen next week.”

“Ah, sixteen,” you muse, “that’s a confusing age.”

“You got that right,” he gruffs, “the other day, she called me on my way home from work to bring some drink called a boba. Fifty-two years of life and I never even knew there was a damn thing called a boba! Why would anyone want swirlin’ stuff in their drink?! Anyways, the shop got her order wrong, and when I brought it home, she refused to drink it, called me the worst dad ever, then stormed upstairs to slam the door on her room. I turn to my wife, and she’s shakin’ her head at me like I’m the one that did something wrong!”

You laugh, then press your lips into a smile. “I’d have to agree with her on that,” you joke, and he lets out another disgruntled noise that has you laughing again. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve lived with my wife and those two girls for over two decades,” he sighs. “I’m used to it by now. All three are equally pains in my ass, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your smile drops a little as you look at him more contemplatively. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as he speaks, and you realize it’s familiar, but the answer of where you’ve seen it before fails to arrive.

“My youngest,” he starts again, “she’s been listenin’ to really loud music lately.” He presses one of the buttons underneath the AC vents, static noises coming to life before he changes the output to bluetooth. “My wife says it’s some sort of phase, but I’m not likin’ the music. Always sounding tempered and inappropriate.” He plays a song from his phone paired to the car, speakers flowing with music, and a chill runs down your spine the moment the first few notes fill your ears. A song so painfully familiar, so connected to your soul it’s as if your heart still keeps time with it to this day. 

“See what I’m talkin’ about?” the man says, “Lots of words about skin and cigarettes.” With a shake of his head, he lowers the volume. “She’s obsessed with this band, it’s probably a band similar to your old lover’s from the sound of it. She’s got posters of ‘em up on the wall, and she took the picture of us on our first fishing trip together out of the picture frame on her desk and replaced it with this man. This silly-lookin’ white-haired man that always looks like he’s just pretending he knows how to play a guitar. Hmph! She keeps saying ‘dad, I wanna go to their concert!’ There’s no way in hell I’m allowing that.”

You stare down at your lap, brow furrowed from the realization flashing through your head, and your thumb nervously passes over the skin of your other hand. In your periphery, you see him glance over at you once, and he sighs before stopping the music and speaking up again.

“It’s fine,” he says, “my youngest got her sister into the same band, and she likes one of the other ones. Plays bass. He’s too rough-lookin’ for my daughter. Arms covered in tattoos, he’s even got some on his face! She keeps dreamin’ about havin’ him for a boyfriend, but if she brought that home, there’s no way I’d approve. I’d scare him off with my rifle.”

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, and you realize what a small world it is. Or, you realize just how big Choso’s world must be now. So much bigger than he or any of the other members of his band could’ve ever imagined. For once in a lifetime, so rare and pure, are dreams that are fully realized. 

“Gosh,” you respond when you realize you’ve been lost in your own revelations for too long, “that’s an…extreme response. You sound like my father, though.”

“Hm,” he responds, “I’m sure. Did your father approve of this lover of yours? The one that’s makin’ moves on you so fast and too soon?”

You lean back in your seat with your head hitting the headrest. It’s been years since you’ve felt like you’re being lectured or reprimanded for anything, but the feeling comes back to you at this moment as if no time had passed at all. No matter how old you get, you’ll never forget how humbling the feeling was when you thought you knew everything at eighteen, just to look back and realize you didn’t have a single clue.

You sigh. “No. He didn’t approve. Far from it.”

.

.

.

seven years ago. autumn.

chapter 2. the juvenile & the delinquent.

[to be continued]

a/n. eeeeeppp thank you very much for reading n supporting my new fic!! i hope you enjoyed :') still a lot more to uncover n unpack hahah i'm so nervous to start a new fic but i'm also very excited!!! i love choso sm but i also love nanami so this is gonna be interesting to write. also TYSM to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this omg your support means the world to meeee. love you all sm.

taglist: @joemama-2 @sweetpo1son @lilluna12 @polarbvnny @4y3sh4 @sedona-the-l0bster @horisdope @ilovenana88 @thexmistress @atsushirolll @flvrrg0d @strawnanamilk @nighttwingg @indieotterxoxo @pirana10 @bakuhoethotski @tvdumarvelhpsimp @lavender-hvze @whereflowerswenttodie @alwaysfreakingout @kaitoluver @3xv5s @wrenabbadon @erwinslut @winsga18 @ynishalee @yungbloode

love u all so much!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 4

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: It's Rebecca Black day

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. 💖

As expected, your mother is waiting anxiously for your return. It’s not often you’re at the mercy of her disapproval but she has some choice words for both you and Roxie.

Why didn’t you call? You forgot to, everything was so chaotic. Why would you make me worry like that? You know how I am, it isn’t fair to not answer your phone. I was about to call the police. You’ve heard the same aimed at your sister dozens of times but it’s much different to be at the end of it. 

Once she’s done and you feel thoroughly guilty, you retreat to your room. That’s all you wanted. For the last day, all you wanted was to hide away. Yet, now that you’re safely behind familiar walls, you still feel unsettled. 

That’s enough excitement for a lifetime. How does Roxie think that is fun? It’s terrifying. 

You take out your laptop, your most prized possession, and sink back into your virtual cave. It’s safe there. The things you see on the internet are distant and often times fake. Fanfiction and streams and discussion boards. It’s all so menial and unimportant. It’s not finding a job and dragging your butt to work five days a week or disappointing your mother. 

Mm, well, you should check the job boards again. Something’s going to come up eventually. That’s what everyone says and those people have jobs. Even Roxie works, even if it is at a night club. It’s work and she brings home some impressive tips. When your mom asked her to get you a gig, she just laughed. 

You interviewed at Taco Bell a few weeks ago but you haven’t got a call. That’s probably not going to work out. Move on, try again and again and again. 

The computer doesn’t keep your focus as usual. Maybe it’s that you’re overtired or that your mom was so upset or everything that happened last night, but you just can’t rein it in. You close your laptop and lay flat on your bed. You close your eyes, exhaustion hot on your eyelids, but you can’t sleep. You’re no good at napping. What are you good at? 

You sigh and kick your feet. What are you going to do? You can’t spend another summer like this. You’re not like everyone else. You didn’t get into your school and you didn’t get some lofty job from your uncle’s company. As much as you can blame it on other’s luck, you have to acknowledge you’re own shortcoming. You procrastinate, you get nervous, and sometimes, you just avoid things altogether. 

You get up and grab your purse. The strap catches on your sweater and knocks it onto the floor. You search for your phone and pull it out. You bend to retrieve your cardigan and toss it with your purse back onto the dress. You look down as something flutters onto the carpet. 

You didn’t forget about the little note. It’s the weight that been on your shoulders. You take your phone and the paper and sit on the side of the bed. You can rip it up, crumple it and toss it in the bin, pretend nothing ever happened. You should. Just forget about the worst night of your life. 

You can’t. It’s not about your sister’s drunken display or your embarrassment. It’s about a job.  

You hang your head as your nose tingles. Your mom works her butt off and she’s so giving. You want to return the favour. Even if it’s small. Even if it’s just you paying for some of the groceries or a bill or giving her a few bucks. If you don’t try this time, you won’t be able to forget. You’ll always know that you are the reason you came up short. 

You unlock your phone and key in the number. You drop it and let the paper fall too as you stand. You pace around in circles until you’re dizzy. You hate making phone calls. The sound of your own voice is grating. Ugh.  

No, you have to do it. You can do this. It’s one phone call. What if that’s the job? What if you’re answering a phone? Get over yourself. Grow up! 

You pick up your phone and hit call. Your chest locks up. You can’t breathe. Oh god. If you can’t breathe you can’t speak. You hang up and squeak. Frig. No, don’t give up. 

You try again. This time, you force out an exhale and shakily hold the phone to your ear. There’s an answer after two rings. 

“Barnes,” a voice declares from the other end. 

“Erm, oh, Bucky? It’s... me,” you stutter out, giving your name as you realise he won’t recognise your voice. 

“Ah, hi, doll, give me a moment, one sec,” he says and you hear a scuffing on the other end and a muffled ‘excuse me’. His movement rustles and he clears his throat directly into the speaker, “there we are, doll, all yours. How are you?” 

“Uh, alright, I’m fine, er, oh... you?” You close your eyes, Just melt into a puddle and absorb into the carpet.  

“Doing great now, hearing from you,” he purrs, “I’m very happy you called.” 

“Mhm, well...” you put your hand to your neck. Your skin is burning. “I... was calling about the job. In the note.” 

“Of course, doll, so you’re interested?” 

Desperate, but you won’t tell him that. “Yes, please, I mean--” you cringe. You’re not ordering ice cream, “would... what would be... would there be an interview?” 

“Sure, doll,” he says. His tone is light and airy. Is he making fun of you or are you just self-conscious? Both, probably. “How about you come by the casino tomorrow at noon? Does that work for you?” 

“Yeah, uh, whenever,” you agree, “I can get a ride.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Can’t wait,” he coos. 

“Right, uh, okay, yeah, I’ll see you,” you babble dumbly. 

“Mm, yeah, see ya then, doll,” he intones. 

“Yep, er, bye.” 

“Bye--” 

You hang up in a half-panic. You did it. You made the call and you got an interview. You think. The conversation wasn’t what you expected but you think it went well.  

You blow out through your lips and grip your phone tight. Your heart hammers again. You march to the door and stop just before you can grip the knob. You’re excited but scared to tell your mom. 

You swing the door open and clammer through. You hear her in the kitchen doing dishes. It’s Roxie turn so of course your sister is sitting on the couch nursing another coffee. 

“Mom,” you slow and tap your phone against your leg as you stop by the counter, “I... I got an interview.” 

“An interview?” Her surprise is genuine, both in her expression and her voice as she looks at you. Her face blooms in a smile. “That’s wonderful. When?” 

“Tomorrow,” you utter. 

“Tomorrow?” She echoes. 

“At noon.” 

“Noon, okay, I can come home from work and drive you, but you’ll have to get a cab home. I should have enough for the fare.” 

“Ah, yeah, okay,” you clutch your phone in front of you and sway, “thanks.” 

“No problem,” she chimes, “where is it?” 

“What?” 

“The interview.” 

“Oh, at the casino.” 

“The casino?” She turns back to the sink and stares into the water as she scrubs, “hm, interesting. What will you be doing?” 

“Hm, I... don’t know yet. Maybe a cleaner.” 

“Oh, that’s not bad at all,” she says, “think I have a shirt you can wear. Maybe I could hem a pair of my pants for you tonight.” 

“Mom, you don’t have to--” 

“You should look nice,” she undercuts, “it’s not a big deal. Besides, it would be really good if you got a job.” 

You nod. You can hear the thinness in her voice. She tries to hide it but you know it’s not easy around here. You saw the red notice in the mail box and heard her on the phone with the landlord. The bough is close to breaking. 

“Thanks, I’ll... I’ll do my best.” 

“I know you will,” she trills. 

You smile and go back to your room. You shut the door and shudder. Great, now you’ve hurdled over the phone call, you can dread what comes next. Not just venturing out into the general public but going to an interview. It’s one thing after another. It feels like a lot after so long of nothing. 

🃏

Your mom lets you out in Lot 4. It’s far from the main entrance but she’s in a hurry to get back to work. You won’t keep her. You can walk a bit. 

The sun has you sweating along with the polyester trousers. The belt is pinned and the legs have been hastily hemmed. The blouse doesn’t breathe either but you managed to iron the wrinkle out of the sleeve. 

You come to the front doors and steel yourself. Your mascara sticks as you feel the perspiration around your eyes. Oof. You did your best to follow the tutorial with your sister's borrowed makeup but you skipped the eye liner; it only ever turns out smudgy. 

You enter and the air conditioning cools the heat in your cheeks and chest. The woman behind the counter greets you with a smile and a ‘how are you’ before asking if you’re checking in. You’re almost speechless at the sight of her. She’s so pretty and she can do the contour the way those girls on Youtube do. You wouldn’t be good for that job; not gorgeous like her. 

“Um, yeah, actually, I’m here for an interview,” you say. 

“An interview?” She tilts her head, “I didn’t see anything...” she clicks around with the slim mouse on the desk, “who were you interviewing with?” 

“Bucky, uh, Mr. Barnes,” you say. “Well, I spoke with him. Maybe I’m supposed to talk to someone else?” 

She says your name and glances from the screen to you. You nod, “yeah?” 

“Right, okay, I see,” she keeps her shining smile, “Mr. Barnes has a car waiting for you.” 

“A car?” Your brows pop up. “Alright.” 

“If you just want to head back out, it should be waiting there. You’ll see Merv, he has white hair.” 

“Okay, thanks,” you reply then gulp as you turn around. 

You turn slowly and go back to the doors. What is going on? He said to meet him here but he isn’t here? He would be a busy man. You just hope you don’t blow it. 

You pull the doors open and come down the shallow steps. A man with white hair stands by a dark car. One more mountain to climb. 

“Uh, hello, are you... Merv?” 

“That’s me, miss,” he stands straight, “you must be the lady.” 

“I... guess.” 

“Come on then,” he turns and opens the door, “Mr. Barnes doesn’t like to wait.” 

“Okay, sorry,” you step off the curb and climb into the car.  

The door shuts and you buckle up. At least the interior is cool. You snap the belt into place as Merv gets in the front. He rests a hand on the wheel and points with the other. 

“You want this up or down?” He points to the barrier between the front and back. 

“Oh, I don’t... whatever you like,” you shrug. 

He chuckles, “miss, you’re a lot sweeter than the other ones.” 

Other ones? Of course there would be other candidates. You wonder if this is a test. If maybe Merv is going to tell Bucky that you’re too quiet. 

“Do you like Springsteen?” He asks as he slowly pulls out. 

“Don’t mind him,” you answer. Honestly, you don’t really know any of his music.  

Merv flips on the stereo, “I like you even more.” 

[oceaneyesinla]

ROXY!!! hmmmmmm if you feel so inclined: platonic wound dressing after a mission with giyu? i love your giyu btw that's my guy 💜

Fallon how did you know I was desperate to write for Giyuu again?! Also, thank you I'm crying - I always worry I'm not doing his character justice!

Requests OPEN

Tending to Giyuu's Wounds

Platonic Giyuu & Reader

Divider by @/cafekitsune

You couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of Giyuu at your door, his usual blank expression on his face even as he dripped blood all over your engawa. Your eyes followed it back to the source - a thick gash in his forearm, straight through both his uniform jacket and the undershirt. The edges were jagged, and you were already mentally planning how best to repair the wound as you ushered him inside. You were relieved to see his haori was undamaged, draped over his uninjured arm. The garment was worth more to him than any treasure in the world.

He murmured a soft thanks as he passed you, settling himself into an all too familiar position on the floor, cross-legged and watching you move around your home. His sword was placed off to his right, and he handed you his haori without question, gratitude in his eyes when you handled it with care, following the familiar steps to fold the fabric and placing it on the little table you kept in the main room.

“Didn't I tell you to be more careful?” Your admonishment was not nearly as harsh as it could have been - more a gentle rebuke than true anger. Still, a little frown made its way onto his face and you tried to soothe it by running a hand over his hair as you passed to the cupboard where your supplies were kept.

“The demon was attacking a new Slayer. I was more focused on them than myself.” Of course he was. Giyuu was aloof and reserved, but you were lucky enough to know better than the front he showed the world. 

He told you a little more about his latest mission as you neatly stitched the wound on his arm, and you had to hold back another sigh when he told you just where he was instructed to go. You knew full well that he was closer to the Butterfly Mansion than to your home, and there was at least one Wisteria House between his mission site and here.

You didn't ask why, though. You had, once before, when he had decided to come to you rather than his fellow Hashira or the Wisteria House where they could summon a doctor rather than a simple village healer. He had just looked up at you and explained with a single sentence, “You're nice to me.”

Your heart clenched at the memory - Giyuu had a way of saying such meaningful things without ever realising the gravity of his words. You knew his trust was hard won, and that statement had just steeled your resolve to watch over him. To be a friend, to be someone he could always turn to - even when he was injured and even when he was not.

He didn't move a muscle as you worked and he didn't complain, leaving you to hope that the pain medicine you gave him was working. Yes, he was strong, and his pain tolerance was better than any you had come across before, but that didn't mean he should be in pain. If you had your way, he would never know pain again. Unfortunately, you were no god, nor could you erase the demons that terrorised this land. So, instead, you would dose him with painkillers and tend to his injuries and try as hard as you could to heal the wounds in his heart, too - the ones you knew ran deeper than any physical scar he attained in his duties.

Once you finished your stitching - which probably took longer than needed, but he deserved your best efforts - you cleaned the wound again. The last thing he needed was an infection. Bandages finished your care, and you patted his hand when you were done, rising to your feet to begin the process of tidying away your bloodied rags and medical supplies.

Giyuu tried to get up and help you, but you fixed him in place with a glare, “Stay put, Giyuu. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

A shake of his head reassured you, and you gave him a soft smile as your hand found the crown of his head once again. He relaxed under your touch and you saw a flash of emotion cross his eyes before he looked away, playing with the torn fabric of his now damaged jacket. What he saw when he looked at you, you weren’t sure, but you hoped it brought him some small comfort. 

“Come on, Giyuu.” You didn’t look back as you headed towards the kitchen, knowing that he would be trailing behind you, probably with that adorable confused frown on his face, “I’m assuming you haven’t eaten? You need to take care of yourself.”

“You sound like Granny Hinata.” Giyuu was pointedly avoiding your eyes when you turned to playfully glare at him, but the little smirk on his face gave him away. It wasn’t often Giyuu allowed himself the luxury of levity, and you let yourself bask in the light of his averted gaze, warm with hidden laughter.

You rolled your eyes, “Forgive me for caring.” You dumped the rags in his hands and pointed him towards the back room, “Go put these to soak. I’ll make a start on cooking.”

He did as you asked without complaint, and you began pulling out the ingredients of Giyuu’s favourite meal. With him coming around more often, whether to seek out your medical skills or just to check in, you kept the makings of this meal on hand.

A few minutes later, you heard the lightest of footsteps, signalling Giyuu’s return. You expected him to appear at your side, quietly offering to help so when he didn’t, you turned to face him. The expression he wore … he looked far younger than his twenty years in that moment, and it wasn’t at all hard for you to imagine a little boy, with ocean blue eyes and a smile brighter than the summer sun. You knew some small details of his life - there was once a beloved sister, and a treasured friend; both lost to the demons he now devoted his life to destroying. You wondered if you would ever get to witness that little boy with your own eyes, or if he was lost forever.

Then Giyuu smiled, and while it wasn’t that sunshine smile you saw in your mind’s eye, it was beautiful nevertheless; like moonlight on the water, lighting up the dark. Your lips crept up into a smile of your own, and you both fell into a comfortable silence as you worked. When you watched him devour his daikon like he hadn’t eaten in a week, rice stuck to his cheek and a smile on his face, you couldn’t help the warmth spreading through you. Never mind what others thought - this boy was worth the effort of understanding, at least to you.

******************

Giyuu stayed at your house that night. You refused to let him leave - forcing some spare clothes into his hands and laying out an extra futon for him. Someone had to care for him, and you were happy to step into the role for as long as he would allow. 

A few days after his departure, you woke to the sound of tapping on your door. When you opened it, you had to smile - it was Kanzaburo, Giyuu’s Kasugai crow. It was sweet, the way Giyuu insisted on keeping the bird by his side, even as he grew increasingly confused and unreliable. The crow hopped up to your feet, bumping his head into your ankle before holding out his leg for you to remove the little package attached there.

You untied the neat little knot, rubbing a finger over Kanzaburo’s head as you did so. You were growing fond of him, just like you had grown fond of his Hashira. The crow didn’t linger long, flying away after another affectionate head bop, this time to your hand.

There was a note attached, and when you unfolded the paper, you found one simple phrase, ‘Thank you’

So simple, yet you understood exactly what he wanted to say. It became even more apparent when you opened the little bundle to find a ribbon in pretty shimmering fabric, just like the ones you always used to tie your hair back, and a little wooden carving of a fox. The stitching on the ribbon was slightly messy and crooked, while the carving was a little rough around the edges.

Cradling the precious treasures in your hands, you knew you would cherish them forever. To earn the trust of a boy like Tomioka Giyuu was not a gift to be taken for granted. You headed inside, already deciding just where your new fox friend would live, and already looking forward to Giyuu’s next visit.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could I request a reader who is an adult probably scavenging some parts or an ex maintenance worker who rescues Cassie with the help of roxie and Monty who was fixed by the reader.

As the young girl came to her senses, she could only groan in pain, although it was violently cut short when she began coughing due to the surrounding dust.

She then felt a warm liquid trickling down the side of her head, eventually landing on her bottom lip where she tasted iron.

Spitting it out in disgust, she could see it was crimson red.

'What happened to me...?'

Cassie tried to move, but quickly found that her leg was pinned underneath rubble, and above that was a slab of concrete that would be impossible for her to lift up on her own. She still tried to free herself, only to stop when she felt pain.

Her eyes eventually found the smashed maintenance elevator she was thrown out of, her memories becoming clearer. 'That's right...the elevator..'

Soon her gaze fell upon the shattered Roxy-Talkie device that was once her only connection with the outside world.

Her only connection with Gregory.

Or...at least who she thought was Gregory, only for it to be a lie.

And just as the real one managed to contact her and save her from that evil endoskeleton who was mimicking him, he betrayed her by dropping the damn elevator.

"Th-That jerk...!" She coughed. "He-"

'Cassie! Is that you?!"

"Cassie! If you can hear us, hang on!"

Blinking, she turned her head to see a familiar wolf coming to her rescue, alongside an adult who looked like one of the Fazbear technicians.

"R-Roxy.."

"Cassie! Thank goodness. We thought you were a goner.." Relieved, Roxy began shoving aside whatever she could to reach Cassie. From pipes to rocks to metal sheets.

"I-I thought you were, too." The girl shuddered, feeling her tugging on her arms.

But she remained stuck and cried out in pain when Roxy tried pulling her out, to which she immediately let go. "What's wrong? I-Is your leg broken?"

"No. She's just trapped under a giant concrete slab..you're not gonna be able to lift that, Roxy. That means you're up, big guy."

"Leave it to me, boss."

Cassie felt her blood run cold upon hearing the other familiar voice...one that she wishes she didn't hear.

"Grrrah....rrrAHHH!!!"

Within seconds, the slab was lifted, and she was free to look up at whoever saved her.

It was Monty, his upper body now affixed to a glamrock endo's lower half. He loomed over her, teeth gnashed together as he stared back down, looking annoyed. "I can't hold this all da-"

"AHH!! G-GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!" With a scream, she scrambled to her feet despite being in immense pain, determined to get as far away from the monstrous gator that stalked her all night.

She couldn't let him catch her.

Not again.

And so she ran-

Until she crashed into you, nearly knocking you over.

"Cassie! It's alright!" You kneeled down, holding her closely as her panicked breathings kept getting worse--to the point of hyperventilation. "It's okay. He's not gonna hurt you, shhh."

"B-But he's...h-he's...he's....!!!" She struggled to finish.

"Cassie, it's okay. Monty's on our side now. Look."

Hearing the comforting voice of her favorite animatronic, she slowly calmed down enough to look back, seeing Roxy standing there beside Monty, who had dropped the slab.

She blinked several times, confused at why he was so calm now and wasn't trying to chase her. "How did he...? He was in the water, and...I fried him-"

"It seems like you pushed the factory reset button on him," you spoke up. "Whatever you did worked pretty well. He's got his old personality back, although I don't think he remembers what exactly happened.."

Cassie gazed at you. "I-I'm sorry..who are you?"

"[Y/n]." Smiling, you set your hands on her shoulders. "I used to work with your dad, and-"

However, you fell silent when she began sniffling, eyes watering up as her lips trembled, clearly trying to stifle her sobs. You frowned and hugged her closely. "Oh, honey.."

That was all she needed to burst into tears, burying her face into your jacket as the stress of her journey finally came crashing down on her--in the emotional sense, this time.

She had no words to described how hurt and betrayed she felt; all she could do was sob and sob as she clung to you.

Roxy almost ran to comfort her on instinct, but Monty held her back by the arm and shook his head, assuring her that you both needed the space. The last thing she needed was two dangerous-looking animatronics hovering around her.

He knew that very well.

She reluctantly listened, watching as you picked up Cassie and allowed her to hug you around the neck.

"I-I wanna go home.." She hated how pathetic she sounded, though it was the truth.

She was so very tired.

"We'll get you home, I promise." You reassured her. "We found a way out."

"B-But..what about that endo?" Sniffling, she raised her head to look at you, wiping at her smudged makeup. "I-It's still here..what if it gets out, too-?"

"Oh, it ain't going nowhere anytime soon."

Confused, Cassie glanced back at Monty, her eyes widening upon seeing the head of the Mimic in his claws. "My trophy." He grinned from ear-to-ear, before attaching it to his hip.

You chuckled. "He tore that thing up in two seconds flat. It didn't even stand a chance."

"We both kinda ganged up on it." Roxy nudged her bandmate's elbow. "Nobody messes with the Glamrocks..especially us."

"Haha. Got that right!"

"That's good.." Cassie muttered, finally calming down as she realized he was indeed back to his old self, relieved the Mimic was no longer a threat. "But..what about the elevator?"

"It's not our only way up. If I know one thing about this place, it's that we got too many damn stairwells." You huffed. "Fortunately Monty cleared a path to one that was hidden. That's how we got down here and found you."

"Yeah, I did that." The gator boasted. "You guys should be thanking me!"

"We will after we get out of this dump." Roxy reminded him, rolling her nonexistent eyes. "I need to find Gregory so I can....." She paused, feeling as though you're staring at her, before she changed her wording carefully. "....tell him what a bad "friend" he is."

"I'll tell him that myself, too.." Cassie grumbled, resting her head against your shoulder. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah." Nodding, you took out your flashlight. "Let's not stay here any longer than we need to."

[sonic-fankid-showdown]

And that's a wrap!!

Let's all take a moment to congratulate the winner of this second showdown, Silhouette the Needlemouse, by @kingprinceleo!! That mouse girl stole everyone's hearts, it was only fair she got first place in exchange!

And special applause for second place, Maria the Hedgehog by @6larosie9, and our third place shared between @st4rrzyy's Blake the Tenrec and @somemismatchedsocks' Roxy the Bee! All awesome fankids who totally deserve the love!!

But also, thank you all so much for making this once again such a fun time!! I hope everyone had as much fun as I did, and I can't wait to see more of all of your fankids!!!

Thank you so much.

-Kat.

[twiixr4kidz]

Hii I was wondering if you could make Seven evil exes x reader and it's like their first anniversary hehe thanks!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

I AM SO SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE I HOPE U ENJOY IT ANYWAYS

matthew patel

he's been preparing for MONTHS

he wants everything to be absolutely perfect

you're gonna come home to the house being covered in rose petals and balloons

the smell of a fresh, homemade meal wafting through the halls

the sound of a hot bath being drawn, filled to the brim with the most delicious-smelling bubble bath

and matthew, with a small gift in hand

in that box may or may not be a specific piece of jewelry you'd been eyeing for like, ever :3

matthew LISTENS

lucas lee

he invites you over and hands you a fancy outfit, perfect for a night out

he tells you to take all the time you need to get ready while he does the same

once you're ready, he will not shut up about how fucking incredible he thinks you look

and then, it's time for the bougiest dinner you've ever eaten

the sky is the limit, and lucas is more than willing to pay for whatever you want

he even gets the most expensive champagne

AND DID I MENTION IT WAS A PRIVATE DINING ROOM???

todd ingram

spoiler alert, he's been writing a song about you since he first began having feelings for you

definitely sits you down beforehand to plan something, except he doesn't tell you that it's for your anniversary

he wakes you up with breakfast in bed and a fresh pitcher of your favorite flowers on your bedside table

he lets you sleep in, but not TOO late - you have a very busy day ahead, full of the most stomach-churningly sweet romantic activities ever (todd's a little bit of a cornball but in the best way possible)

roxie richter

roxie gets so excited the night before that she literally keeps you up until midnight just so she can scream "HAPPY ANNIVERSARY" and pop confetti canons that somehow?? spawned into her hands??

she does let you sleep eventually, but she wakes you up as soon as she sees fit

the entire house is fucking COVERED in the tackiest party city decorations

for breakfast? a cake. that she made. at 3am. (she didn't sleep)

she also wanted to do something fun for your anniversary... by fun i mean a nerf gun fight

plus side, if you win, you get to pick dinner!!

kyle katayanagi

at first, kyle sort of brushes off your anniversary

trust me, he cares. he cares A LOT. but he literally has no idea what to do for an anniversary so him brushing it off is his way of saying "WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO"

the day of, he'll invite you over without saying much

when you get to his house, he (nervously) greets you with some hand-picked flowers and your favorite drink

he's the kind of guy to get you one of those little gift baskets that has things like your favorite snacks, a movie, a comfy pair of pj pants, a stuffed animal, and a little giftcard

at the very bottom, tucked into the folds of the pj pants, is a letter where he expresses how lucky he is to have you in his life

ken katayanagi

ken's a big planner but a bad celebrator

similarly to his brother, he also isn't really sure about what to do for your anniversary

he's probably going to keep it on the simpler side because he doesn't want to overwhelm you

he pays attention to the things you say you like and you want, and he'll pick out a couple that he knew you really wanted

and of course, he's going to treat you to dinner because what kind of gentleman would he be if he didn't??

gideon graves

i've said it once and i'll say it again, gideon LOVES to spoil you

he gives you gifts all the time, and your anniversary is no different

the gifts that he gives on your anniversary are one the more expensive side

he either makes or buys all of your favorite foods for you

AND, when you thought he already did the most, he surprises you with two tickets for a trip to a dream location of your choice, including plenty of fun activities, lots of sight seeing, and LOTS of rest n relaxation

[suugarbabe]

Respect the Family

| Chapter 1 |

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of drinking

an: Surprise, it came earlier for you all. I told you things would happen fast once i could write comfortably again. this is the first chapter in the sequel to the Protego Series. click the hyperlink if you haven't read that first. While it isn't necessarily a need for you to read Protego first, it may help you better understand some of the characters personalities and how they function as a family. There will be sections in later chapters that call back to portions of protege that may make you confused if you have not read this series. <3

The reflection in the mirror was someone you didn’t recognize. Yet every time you moved, it moved with you. You applied mascara, the reflection did the same. You glossed your lips, so did the woman looking back at you. A pair of hands landed gently on the woman’s shoulders in the mirror and you felt the pressure on your own. “You look great, hun!” Roxy’s chipper tone was an encouraging attempt to calm your nerves. Pouting slightly you made eye contact through the mirror, “Dunno, Rox. I’m super thankful you got me this job but I’m proper nervous.” Roxy gave your shoulders a squeeze, “It’s alright, hun, happens to all of us. I’m having the bartender bring you a little liquid courage to help with all that.” 

You let out a low groan, closing your eyes and using the tips of your forefingers to rub your temples with slight pressure. A clinking of glass on table made you straighten up. A large shot glass filled with clear liquor was sat down in front of you. Looking up you were met with a tall and lean frame of a man. A messy fluff of dirty blonde hair settled and framed his features after he ran his hand through it, “Erm, Rox said you needed this?” His eyes seemed to dance with a mixture of shyness and mischief as his finger pointed toward the shot glass in front of you. You nodded, smiling awkwardly as it felt like your voice was lost in your throat. Taking the glass you threw your head back, clearing the shot in one smooth motion.

The man in front of you let out a low whistle, “That nervous, huh?” You let out a small laugh, adjusting the straps of your outfit in the mirror, “Just a little. First day jitters I guess; we all get them right?” The man smiled back at you, the action reaching his amber eyes. “I’m Lorenzo by the way, erm, Enzo. My friends call me Enzo. You can call me either, w-whatever you like,” his slight stammering made you smile, a real genuine smile and you felt yourself relax slightly. Enzo mirrored your expression, asking for your name in return. You enlighten him, giving him your name before listening to him repeat it to himself like he’s trying to commit it to memory. The way he looks at you, smiles at you, there's something different, you can’t quite put your finger on just what yet. 

A voice calls out behind you, “Bunny, you’re up next! Oh, hey Berk, what’re you doing in here?” Enzo’s cheeks turned a blushing pink, “Erm, hey Blaise. Roxy asked me to bring a drink to -” he turned to face you, “I thought you said your name was-” You cut him off with a raise of your hand, “It’s my stage name, you can call me that if you’d like, or any other nickname variation your pretty little head can think of.” You threw him a wink as you stood up, Blaise stepping aside to let you exit towards the stage. Enzo’s eyes never left your figure your entire walk out, his vision trained on the door you walked through. He didn’t notice Blaise walked towards him, now resting against the vanity you were just sat, “Developing a crush on the new girl already, bruv?” Blaise’s teases caused another dusting to cover Enzo’s freckled cheeks before he cleared his throat, “‘Course not. Roxy just asked-” 

“Roxy just asked,” Blaise mimicked Enzo with a teasing high pitched tone, “Come off it, mate, you might be able to fool Nott with that shite but you’re not fooling me. Have your looks and your fun, but you know that’s all it can be. You know Riddle’s rule.” Enzo rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry, mate, you know I’m not a relationship type of guy. Like you said, I’m just gonna have my fun while I can. You know we haven’t gotten any new faces around here since long before Birdie showed up and she’s like my sister. I’m just enjoying the new fruit.” Blaise clasped a hand on Enzo’s shoulder, “You keep telling yourself that.” 

Enzo shoves Blaise’s hand off his shoulder playfully before straightening his vest, smoothing his hands down his chest as he walks out of the dressing room. He makes a b-line for the bar, responding quickly to Birdie when she asks how he’s doing, “Fine!” his voic betrays him at first, high pitched and cracking before he clears his throat, “Erm, fine, doing just fine.” Birdie’s eyebrows raise slightly, “Three fines and a crack? What’s got your pants in a twist huh?” Enzo rolls his eyes, taking a drink order for the man in front of him and turning his back to Birdie while looking for the right liquor. Birdie, ever the persistent one, isn’t too keen on this reaction, “One of the dancers reject you again or something?”

He scoffs at this, “Oh, please, Angel. You know they never reject me.” The playful smirk on Enzo’s face makes Birdie laugh out loud. He hands the drink to the patron in front of him, seemingly getting distracted by the scene over his shoulder. Up on the main stage was something Enzo should’ve expected but wasn’t prepared for. He knew you were a dancer, but he didn’t know you could dance like that. His eyes were trained on your figure as he watched you spin around the pole, the thickness of your thighs sparkling with whatever lotion you had coated yourself in having him in a trance. 

When you crawled on your knees to the edge of the stage, picking up muggle money being thrown in your direction he felt his jaw tense reflexively. You sat back on your heels, knees spread wide open as you ran your hands up your body to the suggestive lyrics of the song. You pulsed up and down on your knees slightly as you ran your hands through your hair before leaning back fully, the position making your chest push out more and Enzo’s pants tighten. You flipped over to your stomach before pushing back up to your hands and knees, back arching to put your ass on full display for the patrons as you twirled your head in a circle, your hair whipping around wildly. Bills and galleons started hitting the stage like rainfall and Enzo could feel his grip on the neck of the liquor bottle tighten dangerously.

“She’s a cute one, isn’t she?” Birdie's teasing tone brought Enzo’s focus back from his growing delusions, his cheeks heating exponentially. “Who’s cute?” He wipes the top of the bar with a rag, avoiding eye contact and hoping he can avoid accusation. Unsurprisingly he’s wrong for both, “Bunny, obviously. You’re  basically fucking her with your staring, Enzie.” He shakes his head a little more adamantly, a mistake leaving his mouth without him realizing, “That’s not her real name you know.” He stops mid-motion, eyes closing as a low curse leaves his lips in a whisper. 

The grin that encompassed Birdie’s face made Enzo’s stomach twist nervously, “Oh! So she introduced herself real name first, huh? She must have looked into those pretty eyes of yours.” She pinched his cheek playfully before being swatted off. “Did you give her a handsome smile, bub? Shoot her a signature wink like you do?” Birdie grinned as she bit into an orange slice from the bar. Enzo huffed in annoyance, “You know, Angel, you’re acting like a fucking tosser. Been hanging out with Nott more lately?” Birdie doubled down, her grin growing knowingly at her friend, “You fucking choked up didn’t you…does this girl make you nervous Enzo?” 

Enzo rolled his eyes, taking one last peek at you on the stage, “You know I don’t get nervous, Angel,” he patted his vest pocket, checking for his cigarettes, “I’m going for a smoke, I’ll be back in 15.” Birdie made an ‘okay’ symbol with her fingers, giving him a wink before turning back to her tasks. Enzo took long strides through the club to get to the back door, pushing it open with more force than probably necessary. The outside air was cool on his skin, a relief to the warmth he seemed to be overwhelmed with since meeting you earlier tonight. A chill overcame his body, the hairs on his arm standing up; he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the slam of the back door, “Fucking Salazar, mate you sca-“, he cut him self off when he realized who had come through the door. He expected Blaise or Theo to have followed him out, but he was blessed with a surprise instead.

You sauntered over, still in your stage outfit, the slightest of quirks on the edge of your lips, “Awh, are we mates now, Lorenzo? That’s so sweet of you. Can I bum one?” You nodded toward the pack of cigarettes in his hand. He held them up wordlessly, his own loose on his lips while his eyes followed your every move. You took one from the pack, your glossed lips wrapping around the butt in such an average way yet to Enzo it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. With a snap the tip of your finger was on fire. Lighting your cigarette the flame disappeared and you took a deep inhale. 

“The crowd always so eager?” You sat into your hip, voice causing Enzo to repeatedly blink himself out of his daze. “Erm, m’sorry, what?” A soft laugh left through your nose as you took another inhale, smoke billowing from your pillowy lips as you spoke again, “Is the crowd always so eager with all the dancers?” Enzo took a long drag before answering, “Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to boost your ego?” A sly smile toyed on your lips, “Can you do both?” Enzo hummed to himself, trying to hide his growing smile. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something about you made it feel like his insides were on fire. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to impress you, intimidate you, or push you up against the brick wall and take you right in the back alley. 

Enzo flicked his cigarette, ash tumbling off the end, “Most of the men who come here are pretty mindless, always throwing their money carelessly at any dancer on stage with the delusion that maybe they’ll get to take one of you home. You are one of the more beautiful dancers we have though, I'll give you that much.” You snorted at this, Enzo smiled, “They probably seemed so eager because you’re the new girl. You know, fresh meat to their eyes; the new shiny toy.” You raised your eyebrows at this, nodding as you took your last drag before tossing your cigarette on the ground and crushing it beneath your pump, “So you and them aren’t much different then, huh Lorenzo?” Head tilting to the side, Enzo’s eyes squinted slightly, “Dunno what you mean by that, love, care to enlighten me?” 

Maybe it was the responses you were getting on stage that made your confidence flip from earlier in the night. Or maybe it was the three additional shots you had downed with the other dancers backstage as your ‘completed first dance tradition’. Either way you were feeling braver, feeling like you were more in charge of yourself, feeling more like your actual self. “Aren’t I just the new shiny toy to you too?” You took a step closer to Enzo and he took a step back towards the wall as a response. “I don’t mess around with the dancers, Bunny,” Enzo took his last drag as a cover for any facial expression that might give him away. You, however, weren’t buying it. 

“That’s not what I heard,” you step closer once more, making Enzo’s back hit the wall and a grunt leave his lips. “I heard Berkshire has a list of dancers he’s shagged, and I was just wondering,” you toyed with one of the buttons on his vest, “am I gonna be added to that list?” You had to tilt your neck slightly to meet his eyes now, but that was exactly your plan. Peering up at him you batted your lashes, the teenset of pouts on your lips. Enzo was thanking every high wizard, Merlin, Salazar, hell even fucking Godric Gryffindor for the strength of his restraint in this moment. He grabbed the wrist of the hand that was toying with his vest, the action so quick it startled you that it even happened. “Oh, Bunny girl, you will never be on that list,” he leaned down now, lips ghosting at the shell of your ear, “but if you really want me that badly, I’d never say no to a pretty girl throwing herself at me so desperately.” 

You took a step back from him, trying, and failing, to jerk your wrist away from his grasp, “I’m not acting desperate.” You were insulted at the insinuation. But it seemed like Enzo wasn’t listening as his brows furrowed looking just past your shoulder and then he rolled his eyes, “I have to go, we can do this again your next shift, yeah?” He released you then but the heat from his palm still radiated on your skin as you watched him walk back into the club. 

Enzo shook his head a few times, trying to clear his mind of all the horrible and raunchy thoughts that were consuming him about you as he tried to ignore Draco’s voice in his head again, We’re waiting on you, Berk, get your ass in here, NOW. Enzo huffed out an annoyed sigh as he opened the door to Mattheo’s office, all eyes turning to him as he entered. Enzo wore a saccharine grin as he touched his cheek, “What? Got something on my face?” Mattheo wore a less than pleased look as he leaned against the front of his desk, arms crossed over his chest yet still not a wrinkle on his black designer suit. Birdie sat perched on the desk next to him, a smirk on her face as Mattheo spoke. “What the hell took you so long, Berkshire.” 

Theo raised his hand as if they were back in school, “I know, call on me, Matty!” Mattheo gave a half-assed wave of his hand, but it was all the permission Theo needed to be his idiot self before he opened his mouth again, “Berk was in the alley with Buuunnnyy.” Theo said the end in a sing-song voice before settling into a quiet giggle as Enzo glared at him, ignoring the glare he was receiving himself from Mattheo. Enzo opened his mouth to respond but was cut off quickly by Mattheo's harsh tone, “Cut it off, Berkshire. And do it now. We don’t have time for you to go gallivanting around with your cock out for the new dancer, not with what we have coming up right now.” 

Enzo clicked his tongue in response, “Okay, first off, I don’t go gallivanting my cock around or whatever the fuck you just said. Secondly, I just turned her down in the alley, thank you very much.” Birdie and Blaise both raised their eyebrows before exchanging a look that Enzo did not want to delve into right now. Mattheo pinched the bridge of his nose, growling out in slight frustration, “Whatever the fuck it is, stay clear of it. We’ve got more important things to worry about and I need your head on straight, Enzo. You can’t be weakened by some stripper when we’re dealing with the Corvo family.” 

Pansy gasped in disbelief, “The Corvo family, are you serious Mattheo?” He braced himself with a hand on his desk, the other grabbing hold of Birdie’s thigh, “Yes, I’m serious, Pans. I know everyone thought they were dormant, but at the last meeting there were rumors.” Draco crossed his arms, “What kind of rumors?” 

“Like the kind of rumors that could start a war, Cousin,” Mattheo took a slow glance around the room, making sure everyone took in what he was saying, how serious this information really was. “We have four shipments to get out in the next four weeks; there cannot be any mistakes, do we all have an understanding?” A unified ‘yes, boss’ rang out in the room. “The Corvo’s cannot interrupt this arrangement. The trades we’re doing are creating allyships that are heavily important to our family. No one outside of this room is to be involved. I understand some of the dancers have a suspicion of what we do beyond the club, but as far as anyone else is concerned, it’s all rumors. Outside of the mansion and outside of this room the business is not to be spoken to with anyone. Inside this club, the club is all we speak of, that’s the only business we have and that’s the only thing anyone is concerned about. 

“With this mess of rumors concerning the Corvo’s we cannot and will not have any information leaked in any capacity. While we love our Birdie,” Mattheo turned and kissed his girl on the cheek, “we fucking hate rats.” Enzo and Theo made eye contact across the room, both simulating a fake gag at the scene. However, Enzo perked up at the end of Mattheo’s speech, “You know, personally I love a rat, they’re one of my favorites to kill.” Enzo wiggled his eyebrows while cracking his knuckles. Pansy rolled her eyes, “Okay, killer, calm down. If we need you we’ll call for you.” Enzo blew her a kiss. Pansy pretended to catch it mid air before turning her hand and displaying her middle finger. 

Mattheo groaned in annoyance, “Alright, if we all understand then there shouldn’t be any problems. You all can go.” Except you Enzo, you stay, Mattheo’s voice rang in Enzo’s head. The other’s all left the room as Enzo took a seat in front of Mattheo’s desk. With the click of the door locking again, Mattheo’s full attention was on Enzo. “Are you sure I don’t have anything to worry about with Bunny? I know I didn’t hire an ugly dancer, I never do and I know how much you enjoy that.” Enzo pulled at his bottom lip, head nodding, “I know, I know, but I swear, Matt. I’m good. I was serious earlier, girl came on to me hard, asked to be my shiny new play toy and everything, I told her it would never happen. You have nothing to worry about. I’m fully focused on the family business.” Mattheo raised his eyebrows, as if to ask one more time if Enzo was sure. 

Enzo held his hands up, sincere smile on, “I promise, Mattheo. Bunny means nothing to me.” 

[acidxinxwonderland]

Heyoo, Im needy for some angst, so can I get "how the glamrocks would react to accidentally hurting them"? Like for example roxy accidentally scratching them, or Monty losing control with his anger?? You don't have too tho!!! Thank you :)

This is a VERY late response to this ask, I apologize! This sounds like a very fun, yet also sad idea. Let's start, shall we? Starting least angsty to most.

TW: Choking, slight blood, shoving, head getting bonked, just overall angsty for the last two.

Glamrock Chica

During night watch you hear rummaging in the kitchen, steeling your nerves and going to check, Chica is there going through the trash.

She bawks and throws a can straight at your head

"Oh my stars?! Are you alright?"

She feels incredibly guilty, keeping you company through the shift

She constantly checks the growing bump on your forehead

The next night, you find a neatly packaged cupcake. The perfect apology

Glamrock Freddy

Freddy is having a slight malfunction in his arm. You are the one to repair him.

"Please be cautious. I feel... Strange."

You weren't cautious. You failed to reconnect a wire.

With a roar you've never heard before, the wind is knocked out of your lungs from a great force. It wasn't until you are on the ground that you realized he used his other arm to shove you away.

There is a stunned silence that falls between you too. He can't believe he did such a thing, he felt as if he wasn't in control. He hates being out of control.

"Superstar, I am so sorry." Remorse is heavy in his tone, reaching out to you with the hand that just pushed you away.

You're bewildered, out of all the animatronics, Freddy has never laid a hand on you in such an aggressive way, you shrink from his touch.

Watching you shrink away, his hand closes, simulating a sigh as he his head falls. "I don't know what came over me. I..." He trails off.

Your eyes soften, getting up from your spot on the ground. "It's alright bud, you told me to be cautious."

As you continue working on him you have to constantly reassure him that you didn't see him any differently. Although for the next few weeks whenever he brought his hand up near you, you can't stop yourself from flinching away.

He can't bear seeing you afraid of him. Although it takes you weeks to get over it, it takes him months upon months.

Roxanne Wolf

On patrol once again, you hear crying off in the distance while roaming down the large, dark corridors of the Pizzaplex. The closer you get, the easier it was to make out. It was Roxy...

You urge on until you reach the staff's bathroom, entering to see the animatronic wolf near a mirror, covering her eyes as she let out heart wrenching sounds.

"Roxy...?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her hands are quick to fall from her face, staring at you through the mirror with glowing eyes. "What are you doing here?! Get out."

There is nothing but concern on your face as you walk towards her with slow steps, as if trying to sooth a cornered animal.

Getting in her space was your worst mistake. "I said get out!" She pivots towards you, swinging her arm at and you thought it was game over.

Your eyes screwed tight, you didn't even realize. As you slowly open them, relieved to know you are alive, you feel warmth trickle down your cheek, dripping down onto your uniform.

You both now stare at each other in complete disbelief. Roxy takes a step forward, labored breath leaving her voice box, something you've never heard before.

"I..." Her voice falters, reaching up to collect some of the blood on her finger. "I didn't mean to."

She hurt her number one, it didn't matter what she was upset about before. How could she do this to you of all people?

You grab her large hand, tears welling up in your eyes as you try to push past your own feelings. "I know you didn't Roxy."

You stayed in the bathroom all night, sitting on the sinks counter while she sunk down onto her knees in front of you. You stroked her hair as she cried, her head resting on your lap. You barely understand what she says through her sobs besides murmured apologies.

Montgomery Gator

You were tasked to check on Monty during one of his many melt downs

He was in a rage due to an argument with Freddy, yelling and punching the wall

You are petrified as you go into his green room

He immediately senses your arrival, halting for a moment to stare at you with eyes filled to the brim with unbridled rage. There was simulated huffs coming from him, as if he was ready to attack any moment.

"What are you doing here brat?"

Monty sees you as a close friend, one of the only people he trusted in the Pizzaplex. He didn't want you to see him like this.

"I'm here to help."

"Help?" His fists clench at his side. "Who said I wanted any help?"

"Well... Management sent me in but I also-"

Your words are cut off from a loud growl of distress. He was hurt, hurt by the fact that you didn't come here on your own terms and angry at management to send you in when he knew he was out of control.

He punches a hole in the wall, he can feel his fingers malfunctioning. It was as painful as it could be for something made of metal. "God damn it!"

He can't hurt you, he can't hurt you, he can't. He would never forgive himself, he won't do it.

It was as if he blacks out, and once he comes to, his hand is around your neck and you're up against the wall.

You're struggling to breath, suspended in the air as you weakly claw at his forearm.

He sees that pleading look in your eyes, and never has he been more terrified.

He lets go of you, you fall to the ground on your knees, gasping out.

Monty sees those marks on your neck, he sees the damage he has done. He can't believe he would ever do such a thing, not to you. You. He...

He hates himself for it.

"Leave."

You don't think twice, managing to get up on your feet and stumbling out of the green room as you massage the forming bruise on your skin.

He sits there in the green room, quiet as quiet can be as he thinks about what he has done. He looks down at the hand, remembering feeling your pulse against his finger tips.

He has to stay away from you now. He must. The only one he could trust. Yet he lost yours, and there was no coming back from it.

[pokemon1oadvanced]

What I would love to happen in Jurassic World Chaos Theory season 2:

- Bumpy is safe (that episode had me in tears- would like to avoid again please)

- Finding out why Sammy’s family is not talking to her?

- Darius ring your mother. She can not go through this again (especially if Kenji calls once a week shes gonna think something happened to both her boys)

- Ben’s girlfriend confirmed fake (please- my boy was clutching his pearls when he thought Sammy wanted to split from Yaz 💅🏻✨)

- Darius and Kenji still being a little awkward/not fully normal with eachother (Darius tip toeing around Kenji, Kenji still needing a moment here and there, etc.)

- Yassammy! 🥰

- Ben being Yassammy’s biggest supporter (he’s such a girls girl💕)

- Big Ben and his new found goof status (I just need more)

- One of the camp fam (preferably Yaz or Kenji) making an off-hand comment about Ben being so big cause of all the grubs he ate on Nublar

- A glimpse into life for the campers once they got back to the main land (were they bullied at school, did they have to testify in court against Mr. Kon, reconnecting with “normal” life, etc.)

- More tie ins to the movie franchise

- More on their trauma and mental health issues and how to cope/coping mechanisms being actively shown and used

- More sassy Darius/done Darius (his little micro upsets like firing at the sky and kicking the tyre)

- Kenji having a nightmare about his dad to parallel Darius’ in season 2 of JWCC

- Dino nerds Sammy, Darius and Ben geeking out/getting competitive with their knowledge

- Mae, Roxy and Dave please

- Firecracker, Angel and Rebel also thank you

- Kenji and Ben hug (why are they like the only characters who don’t get to hug?!)

- A group hug that includes Ben (he’s always left out on the group bonding😭)

[propheticclown]

HOMESTUCK CHARACTERS AS D&D CLASSES

I've wanted to do something like this for a while. Please let me know if you agree with my takes, and if you think differently, let me know! I love discussion! This is only going to cover the human characters for now. Let me know if you want to me to do the trolls too! BETA KIDS

John Egbert: I feel like John, as a Heir of Breath would be a Sorcerer with the Storm Sorcery bloodline.

Rose Lalonde: Rose, in my opinion, would be a Wizard. A Divination Wizard to exact, maybe Necromancer when she goes Grimdark.

Dave Strider: Dave would most likely be an Echo Knight Fighter. That was really the best thing I could find for a Knight of Time like Dave.

Jade Harley: Jade is kind of a weird case, despite being a Witch of Space, I don't think she'd be a Wizard. I think the best-suited class for her would be a Sorcerer with Lunar Sorcery. ALPHA KIDS

Jane Crocker: Jane is undeniably a Life Cleric. I feel like that just perfectly fits.

Jake English: Jake, as a Page of Hope, fits an Oath of Ancients Paladin the best.

Roxy Lalonde: Now Roxy actually took me a while to try and figure out. It was in between Wizard and Rogue, but in the end, Rogue won out. Specifically speaking, I believe Roxy would be an Arcane Trickster, however, if you think Roxy would be a Wizard, she'd most likely be the Illusionist subclass.

Dirk Strider: Like with Roxy, Dirk took me a while. Even now, I'm not entirely sure if my take is the best for Dirk. But I think an Oath of Vengeance Paladin would suit him quite well. Other classes I considered were College of Blades Bard and Phantom Rogue. Thank you for reading, once again, if you'd like me to do the trolls, let me know!

[trancylovecraft]

What about a Roxie Ritcher drabble?

(SPTO) YANDERE! ROXIE RITCHER x READER: Cheater! (Drabble)

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE: N/A

Thank you for ordering!

Come again soon!

"You lied to me!"

[F/N]'s back was pressed against the wall, Cold sweat dripping down her body making her shirt sticky against her skin. It was so dark, So bloody dark.

Shivering, [F/N] was shivering. Eyes wide and unblinking as she stared wildly at the woman only a few feet away from her. The shine rolling off her sword gleamed light in the darkness, The same shadows that parted to let the blade through.

To point straight at her.

"R-Roxie.. I didn't mean to hurt you! I didn't lie to you it's just-"

"Shut up! Just shut up-!"

The blade lunges forward and [F/N] chokes on her words, Squeaking as she tried to squeeze herself impossibly more against the wall. Shaking, Shivering as she eyed her.

Her eyeliner ran down her cheeks, The whites of her eyes a painful pink. Blonde hair tied up into buns that looked unbrushed and unkempt.

She was crying, Though her lips were snarled. Her fingers were shaking, Yet her resolve was steady as the blade circled [F/N]'s jugular.

"..You just up and left, After everything we've done together?! How could you do this to me?!"

Roxie's voice was strained, Parched as if she hadn't drunken anything in days. [F/N] gulped, Trying not to look the beast in the face.

"R-Roxie, Please.. You need to understand-! My girlfriend's dad just died, I-I had to go see her! I know I stood you up, But I mean it when I say it wasn't pers-"

The blade against [F/N]'s throat neared closer, Only inches apart and tickled at the hairs at her jugular. [F/N] yelped, Cringing back impossibly further into the wall.

"I-I don't care that you had to see that fucking bitch- I don't care that you had to run off and see your stupid girlfriend!" Roxie roared as the sword tickled at [F/N]'s jugular, So close, So easy and ready just to slice in and draw blood.

[F/N] wept harder than she already did.

"W-Why?!"

"BECAUSE I'M SUPPOSE TO BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND!" Roxie cried, The tears running down her face multiplying, Hot and boiling as her eyeliner smudged.

[F/N]'s eyes widened.

Roxie, Her college dormmate, Was in love with her? [F/N] could only watch as Roxie's face upturned into anguish, The hand that gripped her sword shaking.

Shit.. [F/N] didn't even know that she was into girls, Let alone liked her this much, This horrible amount. But looking back now, [F/N] realised how everything made more sense.

How much Roxie loathed her girlfriend, The glares exchanged between the two. How much Roxie had always insisted on coming out with her and walking to and from class with her, It all became so much clearer.

[F/N] near choked on her own saliva, A throbbing pain in her head. Even though it was all clear, Her head was a fuzzy mess. In her stupor there was only one thing that she could truly say.

"I-I.. I'm sorry, Roxie. I just don't feel the same.."

Roxie sniffled, What hysteric expression was plastered over her face. A smile, A malicious and evil smile started to spread all over it. A smile that told you exactly how they'd rip your throat out, A smile that spoke no words but said plenty.

"T-That's fine.. Once I take that other bitch outta the picture you'll have plenty of time to learn how to love me back.."

[kodamaghost00]

Can you do 30 headcanons for Glamrock Chica?

30 Glamrock Chica Headcanons

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[Disclaimer!!]

This post will contain: NSFW,Sfw,Fluff,Smut

It’s also Genderless for the girls,gays and theys! You are a Technician in these scenarios!

———————————————————

Let’s begin!

She’d call you “Cupcake” and “Sugar”! She’d dislike calling you by your name.

She loves taking you out for dinner! She obviously loves pizza and will adopt your taste!

She’ll give her opinion on your outfits. And she’ll be honest about it too!

She’s very kind and some customers are taking advantage of that. Every time you step in and speak up for her she’ll blush badly.

She would initiate your first kiss and you also don’t mind it! But regardless she’ll say “Omg cupcake I’m so so sorry! I should’ve asked you beforehand!!!”. You’d reassure her that you liked it.

She would love the game “Just Dance” and whether you like it or not she will force you to do it with her.

When kids come in mazercise she loves to play tag with them in the labyrinth.

In the after hours of the Pizzaplex she likes to go to Roxy and chill in her green room.

She’d be a bottom but she also never had anything against topping you. She enjoys oral more than anything else.

She will plan so many dates for you two to go on. Most of them include cooking/backing so you two can talk while eating your self made food!

One time she told you to meet her in the her bakery after your shift ended. Once you entered the kitchen she ran up to you with a huge smile saying “You came! I’ve got everything ready for our date night!! Let’s get ready and make some cookies!”

When the cookies were in the oven you both sat down at a table waiting for them. She sat across from you and held your hand gently with a little blush forming on her cheeks.

You compliment her on a daily basis but this time was different. “Thank you cupcake… you’re the sweetest person I’ve ever known…”. You also blushed so you both started to laugh.

Once the cookies were ready you two brought them to her green room where you both sat down and watched TV while eating your food.

She cries every time an animal dies/gets hurt in a movie or series.

She is the most sexualized animatronic in the Pizzaplex so she gets catcalled/assaulted a lot. Everytime that happens it ends with you and the creep having a Fistfight. The police often gets involved too.

When you two cuddle she’s always giving you small kisses and goes through your hair.

She’d get super exited when she sees you wearing her merchandise! “You look super cute cupcake!”

When she has a solo on stage she performs like a goddess! Hitting every single note perfectly. One of her most requested songs is “Girlfriend” by Avril Lavigne.

She gets nervous when little kids request her for a birthday party. She starts to tap her feet rapidly in order to calm down.

Sometimes she gets lost in her own thoughts when she practices her Guitar. She hums to all her favorite songs.

She is super sad over Glamrock Bonnie’s death. They had a brother-sister bond that nobody could ever achieve with her. She keeps a bowling ball in her room to remember him.

She’s super flirty. When you do something nice for her she’ll say “For that you’ll get a nice little treat later…~”

She’d ask you politely for intimacy though. She’d exactly say “Hey cupcake…? Could we… y’know. Have some fun?” You’d chuckle and gladly say yes.

She also enjoys when you two take your time on the foreplay. She loves the feeling of your tongue.

She would enjoy Vanilla more than BDSM. But if you’re into it she’ll try.

She would go to Freddy if she had any self esteem problems. She looks up to him and loves his reassurance.

No matter how fun she is she also has her own problems. She’s scared that if she drops the build up persona that people will like her less.

She’s also scared that she’ll start eating garbage again. She can’t seem to control it.

In the end of the day it’s you two against the world. She’s always there for you and you for her. “I love you so so much cupcake… thank you for everything!”

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Thank you so so much for the request! If anyone else has requests drop them right at me. I love doing your requests. And once again thank you for reading! Also you can follow me on other social medias like TikTok or YouTube!

- Your Ghost ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ