#leo hits 1.6k

[ghostytoad]

* Fun n' Games *

ROTTMNT Boys x GN! Leo-esque reader who enjoys drama, making jokes, and being overall awesome

Summary: The Hamato brothers unexpectedly fall for the smug, but genuine, fun-loving reader despite their egocentric habits Headcanons for: Donnie

GN! Reader; Romantic; Fluff || Words: 1.6k

Raph | Leo | Mikey | Bonus!!

Donnie:

his first thoughts upon meeting y/n is that literally nothing could be worse. he could be boiling alive in one of meatsweat's fancy culinary stews and be less bothered by that than having to endure not one, but TWO LEOS

there goes the fleeting days of being able to complete his work in peace and quiet; o call back yesterday, bid time return

really tho, all his eye rolling and indifference is just an act that he refuses to let up on (he has a REPUTATION to uphold after all!!)

it doesn't take much time for donnie to warm up to y/n though; he's more or less used to his twin's antics and smug behavior and with y/n being almost exactly the same, it's like they've known each other their whole lives

he chalks it up to being comfortable with the familiar, but his brothers can definitely see it for what it is: a crush

he enjoys the competitive tension between y/n and him, it keeps him on his toes and gives him a boost when he feels out of it and needs the motivation

doesn't much care for the whole ego thing, but it doesn't bother him as bad as leo's does; at least y/n has good reason to be as cocky as they are. they're funny, they're charming, they're cool, they're incredibly perceptive

in fact, he's secretly made a list of all the good qualities y/n has and all the things he likes about them… it's like a whole 10 spreadsheets worth of data

to be fair, he does keep a similar list for his brothers and april, so it's not like he's stalking y/n or anything; it's just his way of "bonding" with his loved ones

but y/n's list is a lot longer than anyone else's; there's just so much to like about them. it only makes sense that their list of good traits happens to match up pretty well with his list of "things to look for in a potential mate" (a secret list that he will take to his grave)

whenever they go on missions, he makes sure to fit y/n in all his latest gear he's made them for their protection; they might talk big game, but donnie still has to take precautions!

he may or may not have taken y/n on a few purple dragon-related missions - AKA "let's go put whipped cream in all of their hard drives and cover their hideout in tinfoil wrapping just to fuck with them"; turns out that the police do not find it funny

"let me just say for the record that nothing's illegal unless it can be proven beyond reasonable doubt. and you can't prove that y/n and i were there so…"

y/n ain't no snitch, so don can trust them to keep their mouth shut if anyone ever gets suspicious of their misdeeds; this also makes them his go-to for some of the more emotionally heavier things that he can't talk to his brothers about

yeah, donnie's not great with emotions, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel them - he genuinely finds y/n to be a comforting presence, especially considering their amazing emotional perception and how well they can read him

he finds it much easier to work when y/n's hanging around the lab with him; they don't have to interact much, all it takes is a visit from y/n and he's hit with a burst of motivation

gets more work done with y/n around than he usually does and takes advantage of this productivity by making y/n stay with him for literal hours even if they don't actively take part in his work

he's even made them a little corner with all of their favorite things in the lab so they can keep busy while he works; they might be good for motivation and all, but he knows better than to leave y/n alone with one of his inventions considering their… impulsive behavior (rip stun-bo feature, we hardly knew ya)

"w-what, leaving? you can't leave yet! i've only just started on this upgraded micro-transmitter for the tank and i need your help! what do you mean you just sit there for hours doing nothing? that's entirely false, you are helping me out immensely! now sit right there and don't touch anything until i tell you to-"

their easy-going nature really complements his more rigid and particular personality; together, they are an unstoppable and wildly chaotic duo

he might be the funniest turtle of the group, but y/n has him in tears with their lame little jokes and one-liners; he mostly only laughs at the roasts and teases directed at his brothers though

overall, his brothers have an ongoing bet over how long it'll be before donnie finally realizes he has a MAJOR crush on y/n; leo has his bets on "not in my lifetime", april predicts it'll be sometime after casey jr's time, mikey's a little more generous and says "maybe in the next decade or two", and raph is just fed up with it and wants it over with NOW

The buzzing and whirring of various tools occupied the otherwise silently uneventful lab as Donatello worked away on his latest project, completely absorbed in his work. Tucked away in the corner, sitting snug in the soft embrace of a plush beanbag, Y/N busied themselves with another round of Smash Bros on their purple (totally not Genius Built branded) Switch. Most days in the lab were spent in comfortable silence, as the purple coded brother did his best work when there were minimal distractions. But for Y/N, that meant keeping all audible cries of excitement or groans of defeat to a minimum while gaming. And sure, that was a reasonable request for a while, but had it really already been four hours?! As Y/N glanced down at their phone for the time, they let out a loud, heavy sigh as boredom overwhelmed their usually active mind.

"Don, how much longer do I gotta sit here? I'm practically dying of boredom. I'm terminal now. Terminal!" They slumped themselves back over the cushion, causing it to wheeze under the shifted weight.

"Just a few minor adjustments left and we'll be as good as gold." Donnie hadn't even looked up from the tester bot he was tinkering with, something which Y/N met with a frustrated scowl.

"And by a few, you mean…?"

"I still need to work on recalibrating the external displays to account for the large-"

"UUUGH, no, how long! I've been here so long that my leg's've atro- asta-… ASTROFIELD!"

Donnie could hardly contain the snort that sounded from under his welding mask.

"I think the term you're looking for is 'atrophied' and no, I seriously doubt that the mere act of sitting is enough to deteriorate muscle tissue."

"Whatever. I'm dying here and you wanna lecture me on-"

They were interrupted by the soft thudding of approaching footsteps, the unmistakable sound of Raph entering the lab.

"Heya, D. Y/N. Sorry to barge in on y'all, just wanted to check in and see if y'guys needed anything. It's been, uh… A while and it's gettin' dark so-"

"Raph, will you tell Dorkie here to quit holdin' me hostage and let me go? He's been keeping me prisoner here and I haven't even gotten my one phone call!" Y/N teased. Their moniker was successful in tearing Donnie's attention away from his desk across the room to shoot them a bitter glare.

"Heh, y'know Y/N, you could leave anytime you wanted, right? It's not like he's actually gonna trap you here. Er… Right?" Raphael's playful expression tinged itself with a hint of concern as he, for a moment, considered the possibility of a hostage negotiation with his little brother.

"Nah, I'm actually good here. I just want something more to DO when I'm here. I can't just be here for moral support, y'know." They stuck their tongue out at the softshell as they rolled themselves off the bag and plopped softly onto the tile floor.

The eldest mutant scratched at the back of his neck with a chuckle. Of course Donnie would tell them it's for 'moral support'.

"Uh, Y/N. You do know he only really keeps you in here because he's got a thing for you, right? That whole moral support thing's a load of crock."

It was at that moment that the ambient hum of tools stopped and tense silence flooded in its place. Y/N propped themselves up on elbows and craned their neck towards Donatello who sat faced away from them with tense shoulders bunched up.

Sensing the awkward situation he'd now put them in, Raph let out a small hiss of regret between his teeth and slowly shuffled his feet back towards the door.

"Riiight… So, you guys good? Yeah? Yeah. I'm gonna just-"

And with that, he practically bolted for the door, leaving Y/N and Donnie to stew in the thick air of their own embarrassment.

"D-Donnie…" Y/N could barely squeak, their eyes fixed to the empty doorway as if they were pleading for Raph to come back and take the awkward with him.

Donnie took in a sharp breath and in one swift motion, pushed his work chair back and spun to face his companion with only his iron-will keeping him from running out of the lab himself.

"I-" He started, his face dark red and his lip quivering with anxiety as his mind parsed through the many scenarios in which this sort of confession could've gone.

"I knew it couldn't have been just for my good looks." Y/N's smug grin and flirtatious wink did little to alleviate the mutant's humiliation.

"Huh?"

"For the record…" Scooting up to Donnie's hunched form, Y/N gently took his hands into theirs and kept their gaze locked to the floor as the faintest blush dusted their cheeks, "I have a thing for you too."

Out of every scenario he'd managed to file through, this one was one outcome he didn't anticipate. But one he would happily accept.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #donatello #rise donnie #donnie x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt x you #rottmnt x oc #rottmnt x y/n #x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt x you #tmnt x oc #rottmnt headcanons #tmnt headcanons #donnie #toady talks #toad talks #toady writes

[repairgirl]

say you won’t let go || leo valdez x reader songfic

a/n: this is the first in my songfic series!! the song is say you won’t let go: james arthur. it’s not required to listen to it while you read but defintely suggested :) 

t/w: sickengingly sweet fluff 

word count: 1.6k

You tossed and turned in your bed. Lately, your insomnia had been much worse. Being scared to go to sleep in fear of having visions, seeing monsters- well, you know how demigod dreams are.

After rolling around for a few minutes, you gave up. You grabbed your blanket and dagger and slid on your f/c vans, walking out of the g/p cabin.

You sat on the cabin's steps and huffed, admiring the stars and all the cabins around you. It was past curfew so technically you weren't supposed to be outside of your cabin, but the sense of doing something wrong gave you a rush of adrenaline and an idea. You knew exactly where to go.

A few minutes later you were standing in front of the door of Bunker 9, the place where your best friend Leo Valdez spent most of his time. You knocked on it, praying he was in there and not back at his cabin. Eventually, Leo opened the door, his chocolate brown curls sticking up in numerous places. He was wearing a white grease-stained t-shirt and grey sweatpants, and you thought he looked adorable.

"Y/N?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Hi," you said. "I, um, can't sleep."

"So you came to see me?" he asked in a suggestive tone. You hit his arm.

"Not like that, Valdez!" you chided. "I just didn't know where else to go. Everyone else is sleeping."

He gave you his amazing lopsided grin and opened the door, gesturing for you to come inside.

"Welcome to the bunker, milady."

Once you were inside, he led you to one of his worktables and gestured at a pile of screws and other working equipment on a worktable

"I'm only up because of this," he admitted. You sat on the worktable bench and swung your legs, Leo leaning against the wall in front of you. "How come you're up?"

You sighed. If you couldn't tell your best friend, who could you tell?

"Insomnia. Again. Is it okay if I sleep here?"

"Of course, Y/N," Leo said, giving you his heartwarming smile. "What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't?"

You sighed, butterflies filling your stomach. Ever since you had arrived at camp, you and Leo had been inseparable. You did everything together- from quests to training to goofing off and hanging out with each other. Especially hanging out together. You and Leo were both very touchy-feely people, so it wasn't abnormal for you to crash in his cabin or bunker whenever. Just as long as neither of you got caught. 

But tonight, something just felt different. Leo's sleepy gaze seemed to linger on you a little longer, and you thought he looked a little more handsome than usual, greasy shirt and all. 

You sat on the workbench, swinging your legs back and forth while Leo stood in front of the bench. 

"So, are you going to show me this project of yours?" 

He smiled sheepishly and yawned. "Actually, it's a little later than than I thought, and now that you're here I might as well go to sleep."

You grinned at him and put your hands on the top of his head, playing with his mop of curly brown hair. "Okay, hammer brain."

Leo put his arms around your waist and got even closer to you so that he was standing in between your legs. Butterflies filled your stomach and your vision started to go blurry. Slowly by slowly, without thinking, you inched your heads closer together, and then... he pulled away, clearing his throat. 

You jumped back the second he did, sad at the loss of contact. Leo cleared his throat. 

"Um, anyways, do you have a sleeping bag?"

"Uh, I actually left it back at the cabin. Was in such a rush to get out here... and stuff..." you trailed off. 

"Right. So here's the plan. You're either going to have to sleep in the tiny twin bed with me, or, sleep on the floor. But the floor isn't very comfortable. I don't recommend it."

You blushed a deep shade of red. Yes, you have spent nights here before. Yes, you and Leo have been friends for years. And yes, he has been showing a little more affection recently, which you loved, don't get me wrong. But sleeping in a bed together? That was a whole other level of intimacy. 

You attempted to play off your nervousness with humor. "Sleeping  with you?" 

"Oh, come on. Not like that, Y/N. I mean, unless you want it to be," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"You wish, Valdez," you responded, making a face at him. 

Finally, the two of you crawled into the bed, backs to each other. There wasn't much space between you due to the small nature of the bed, but at that moment you wanted nothing more than for Leo to hold you and protect you from all the bad dreams you might have. 

You tossed and turned once again, but sleep just refused to find you. After what seemed like forever, Leo finally broke the silence. 

"You okay? If you're not comfortable, I can sleep on the floor, or on a workbench, just to make sure you're comfortable," he said, concern lacing his voice. You turned around to face each other, and once again, your foreheads were inches away. 

"Yeah," you said hastily. "I'm just having some bad dreams about... some stuff."

Leo propped himself up with his elbow and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. He looked so.. caring, so kind and patient, and like he wanted to hear anything you had to say, so you decided to spill your guts to him. After all, if you couldn't trust Leo, could you trust anyone?

"I've been having these dreams about... my friend from the Titan war. And...and... Gaea coming back," you said, wiping a tear you didn't realize had fallen. "I'm worried about her coming back and... you getting hurt."

Leo cupped your face in his hand and wiped more tears as they came. "Hey, listen to me," he said in such a soothing and comforting tone it just made you cry more. "You are so incredibly brave and strong, and after everything you've been through, it only makes sense that you dream like this. It's not stupid. But I promise, I'm not going anywhere. Neither is anyone else."

You took his hand and put it on your heart. "You can't control that. Only the Fates can."

Leo smiled and continued to wipe your tears. "I mean for now, at least. You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not."

You played with his curls and looked into his eyes, feeling like you were really, truly seeing him for the first time. Behind the jokes and the humor, he was just a broken boy who was doing his best to fix and help the people he cared about, like you. Especially you. More than you knew. 

You weren't sure if it was the lack of sleep, the weariness, or the heat of the moment or what, but you never thought you'd have the guts in a million years to say "I love you, Leo Valdez."

He brought his head so close that your foreheads were touching, and he stroked your cheek, his eyes shimmering. 

"I love you more, Y/N L/N." He was about to lean in, but he once again faltered. "Um, just so you know, I'll probably regret this tomorrow morning. But if you hate it we can always pretend it never happened and part our separate ways, and-" he paused. "Never mind. Okay."

And it was that moment when Leo did something you never thought he would do. Before you had time to comprehend what he was saying, he closed the gap between the two of you, cupping your face and gently pulling you on top of him. 

His hard, chapped lips connected with your plump, soft ones, and everything fell alright. He kissed you slowly and sweetly, being very careful, as if he were worried you would break. 

The way he kissed you with such care and compassion was a reminder was that he loved you, he was here, and that he was never letting go, no matter what. 

When you finally pulled away, you collapsed on his chest, both of your faces a blushing mess. 

Leo rubbed the nape of his neck. "Wow," he breathed. "I didn't expect you to actually kiss back, and, um, I was really worried that I'd ruined the friendship, and I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with it too, so um-" he rambled, but you cut him off. 

"Leo, I've been wanting you to do that for longer than I'd like to admit," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. 

Leo laced his fingers with yours and kissed you on the forehead. "Okay good. Now let's get some sleep, mi amor."

And there you were sleeping on top of your repair boy, his arms wrapped around you, your legs tangled together, your heart ready to burst. You had so much love for this boy, and you wanted the world to know. 

"Comfortable?" he asked, as you drifted off to sleep, happy in his arms. Yes, you thought. 

Just as you were about to sleep. Leo whispered something in your ear which stayed with you forever. 

"I love you, Y/N. I'm never letting go. Ever."

You never had bad dreams again. 

leo valdez taglist: @slytherindaughterofposeidon0 @persephil @mmmelanie-blog1 @blue-violin @goldengoddess @dee-zbignuts @animes-trash @vintagebitc @nottherealslimshady @vermilioneyess

#Leo Valdez #leo valdez smut #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez angst #leo valdez x you #Heroes of Olympus #hoo #pjo hoo toa #pjo #oneshot #leo #percy jackson #riordanverse #demigods #songfic

[sleptwithinthesun]

here's a soft story to get me back into writing. life has been ROUGH, which is why i wasn't here for a bit. anyway.

1.6K of sick soft w/olfman from t/op g/un. my prose is kinda prose-y

There's a particular unpredictability to life, Hollywood muses, peeking around the corner of the doorway to find Wolfman sprawled out on the couch. Well, he can't really see Wolf, per se; Hollywood only catches a glimpse of a socked foot where it hangs over the arm of the couch, the attached leg contorted in that way that always makes him grimace in sympathy for his own joints. For example, the very night that he and Wolf are finally able to sleep in the same bed, he wakes up to find himself curling into the space Wolf's body isn't.

His side of the bed had long since cooled when Hollywood properly woke up, blinking away the sleepy haze born from six hours of jetlag and rubbing at his eyes. The early morning rasp of his voice calling Wolf's name clearly didn't make it past the walls of their bedroom, and it's with concern that he stumbles out of bed, his aching body protesting every movement. Hollywood just barely catches himself on the doorframe, preventing himself from slipping on their hardwood floor and eating shit. Wolf, had the younger been awake, would have laughed at the mishap, teased Hollywood playfully, then swept him up in a soft kiss. Wolf's been enjoying that more lately, being the one to initiate, rather than wait shyly for Hollywood.

But for the fact that Wolf's snoring congestedly, Hollywood merely would have assumed that he just wasn't ready to sleep on a real bed again. They've become accustomed to the bunks on the carrier, and while Hollywood adjusts pretty quickly, Wolf's always been more sensitive to those sorts of changes. His nighttime switch over to the living room couch is a deeply familiar one, and Hollywood almost wishes he could say that he was surprised when he woke up alone.

"Leo?" he whispers, creeping into the living room with the tendrils of light that tiptoe quietly through the open curtains, streaking across the floor in brilliant footprints of white. He reserves Wolf's birth name for these moments, when the domesticity is so overwhelming he can hardly believe it, when he's breathing in and staring at the dust motes swirling through the air and is reminding that he's actually home.

Wolf doesn't stir, just continues sleeping. His lips are parted slightly to accommodate his congestion, and the feverish splotches covering his cheeks are leeching color from the rest of his face, leaving him looking drawn and pale. There's an uncomfortable crease to his brow, and Hollywood's chest aches, deep and hollow, with every half breath Wolf manages to take in.

"Leo," he says again, louder. Hollywood earns a sleepy little grumble and a shift in the position of his head in response, and he can't help the deeply endeared smile that spreads across his face as he moves closer to the couch. Wolf's always been cute, Southern twang and blond curls and white-toothed, eager grin, but it's the mannerisms of the drowsy that have remained been the most revealing.

There's a mix of relief and worry clutching at his sternum when Hollywood brushes a hand over Leo's forehead. No beads of sweat, despite the heat flooding his palm, and Hollywood frowns, the realization that Wolf's probably dehydrated hitting him as finally, Leo's eyes blink slowly open, taking a second to focus on Hollywood's face. He whines softly as he tucks his legs behind the further arm of the couch, pushing himself up and immediately struggling toward Hollywood.

Hollywood's hand automatically goes to support Wolf, palm touching the broad span of his back while his fingers splay out across Wolf's shoulder blades, gently attempting to keep Wolf upright. "Hey there," he murmurs, even as Wolf lists away from him, just a bit, in order to lean against the back of the couch. "You feeling okay?"

Wolf shakes his head slowly, then closes his eyes. "Not really," he says in a hoarse whisper, and his body sags, like every bit of tension in him melts the second Hollywood's hand begins to rub against his back. He shivers underneath the careful touch, desperately seeking comfort as he breathes into it.

"Do you want to get up?" Hollywood asks, and Wolf shakes his head minutely against the back cushions of the couch. His heart clenches in his chest, seeing Wolf's eyes finally open and tracking dazedly around the room before landing on Hollywood's face once again. They're fever-bright, in resolute agreement with the heat emanating from him.

He's seen Wolf sick exactly never in three years of flying together, but now, here they are. Wolf's curls are impossibly disheveled, and the dark bags under his eyes are worse than they normally are on the carrier after a night shift. The flush on his cheeks doesn't make up for the pallor of the rest of his face, and overall, he just looks exhausted.

Hollywood pushes a hand through Wolf's short curls and sighs when Wolf only shudders into his touch. "I'm going to get you some water, alright?" he soothes. "I'll be right back."

Wolf barely protests to his departure. They're here so rarely that Hollywood doubts they even have a thermometer, much less any medication that might help Wolf. He's unwilling to leave Wolf alone in this state, far too aware of his sleepwalking tendencies and really uncertain of what a fever can do. Instead, he fills up a glass of water in the sink and returns with no further aid.

To his surprise, Wolf's almost managed to bring himself to a proper sitting position. He's still angled slightly inward, one leg tucked up to his chest while the other skims across the floor, but he's closer than he was before Hollywood left.

He accepts the water easily, then chokes on his first sip. The water spills back out over his shirt as he coughs, and Hollywood pats him on the back, trying to soothe him. "Easy, Leo," he murmurs gently. "Take it slow."

Leo gasps and barks out another few coughs, settling after another long moment. His breath catches in his chest before his shaking hand raises the glass to his lips again. Wolf idly licks them after the next sip, then whispers, "Thanks, Wood," wincing as his voice grates in his throat.

"Of course," Hollywood replies, taking a seat on the couch next to Wolf and gently moving Wolf's leg so that it's closer to his torso and further away from Hollywood. Wolf takes this as an invitation to crawl into Hollywood's personal space, slow and careful, the way a cat creeps onto your lap. "Did you start feeling bad last night?"

"Yeah," he admits, letting his temple fall onto Hollywood's shoulder as Hollywood's arm circles him protectively, hand covering his back. "Didn't want to bother you, so I moved out to the couch." He coughs softly, bringing up a fist to just barely cover it.

Hollywood frowns at his response. "You didn't have to do that."

Wolf lets out a congested little sigh as he presses himself into Hollywood's side, then sniffles quietly. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, softly enough that the pilot nearly misses it.

Still, his hands pause in their absent stroking of Wolf's back, and Hollywood glances down toward his boyfriend with his brow furrowed in obvious confusion. "For what?"

Wolf shrugs, gesturing vaguely at himself. "Being sick, I guess. Wasting our free time during shore leave."

"You're not wasting my time," Hollywood insists, fingers moving to card gently through Wolf's unruly curls. Wolf leans even further into Hollywood, who only shakes his head fondly at the inescapable source of heat at his side. "Believe me, Leo, any time spent with you is time well-spent."

Wolf presses his face into Hollywood's shoulder and sneezes twice, two congested, stifled things. "hgk'shH! hih'tsHh'uh!" It's a far cry from Wolf's normal pitchy sneezes, all stuffy and restrained, and Hollywood chuckles softly at the change.

"Bless you," he murmurs, not at all bothered by the sneezes. Wolf keeps his face pressed into the corner formed by the couch cushion and Hollywood's shoulder, and Hollywood rubs his back again to encourage him to come out. Wolf doesn't, and it's only when he feels Wolf's breaths stuttering that he realizes he's about to sneeze again.

"hih'tsCHh! huh... hgkT'Sh!"

"Bless you," Hollywood repeats, hearing Wolf sniffle and smiling softly to himself. "You're adorable even when you're sick, you know that?"

Wolf emerges, blinking softly and bringing up a hand to knuckle at his nose. "I don't feel adorable," he pouts. "I feel gross."

Hollywood presses a kiss to Wolf's forehead. "I know, honey," he says, voice dropping. "You're pretty feverish."

He gets a distracted, barely-there nod before Wolf shudders forward with another pair of sneezes. He stifles them into complete silence this time, only the little hitches to his breath audible, and Hollywood frowns at him, gently pulling his hands away from his face. "Hey, no, don't hold them in. It's bad for you, especially if you're congested."

Wolf gives him a sheepish look, then whispers a hoarse "Sorry" while he nestles back into Hollywood's side. It never fails to amaze him, the ease with which Wolf finds space to perfectly fit into his body.

"Don't apologize. Just don't do it again," Hollywood says, and Wolf gives him a sleepy hum. He can't even blame Wolf for being drowsy; they're both still jetlagged as hell and Wolf's sick, on top of that. There's no way his sleep schedule wouldn't be out of synch.

"Stay?" Wolf asks, turning lidded, glassy eyes over to Hollywood.

He swallows the lump in his throat. "Always," he whispers, and then Wolf is pulled under.

#t/op g/un sickfic #sickfic #t/op g/un #h/ollywolf #h/ollywood #w/olfman #swts fic

[incorrect-quotes-from-she-ra]

huh. so i didn’t notice that i crossed 1500 followers 😭😭😭😭 but AHHHHHHHH yall!!!!! thank you so much shdjfkrkeksm it means a lot that ppl still love and support and are interested in this blog <3

bringing back my usual celebration thingy: send me an incorrect quote from my blog that you like and i’ll write you a lil fic <3 i’ll also make moodboards, so feel free to send in requests!!!

thanks, yall <3 you guys have no idea how much this means <3333

#leo hits 1.6k #W H A T #anyways hhhhhh #also my queue is running low 😔😔 school is rly kicking my ass huh #but i have submissions in the inbox i gotta queue up!!! so i think we’re good? #anyways thank you <33 and the requests might take a while #bcs of school smH #but i will answer them i need to get back into writing

[dubersbutt]

Well all know how much Connor and Leon score but what if they made a little bet out of it. Like whoever gets more points in one game gets to eat you out, whoever has more points gets a blowie and whoever scores a hatty gets to fuck you while to other just has to watch.

1.6K - smut, mlm relationship

“Either of you gonna score a Hatty for me today?” you ask as you lie with you boys after their pregame nap. You had planned on getting some work done while they slept, but Leon had wrapped you in his big arms and Connor nestled himself in the crook of your arm and you couldn't have left even you wanted to.

Connor's eyes were still closed, but you knew he was awake because he leaned into your hand when you scratched ran your fingers through his hair.

"It's gonna be me," he mumbles, "Leo sucks at hockey."

Both you and Leon snort and you lightly tap Connor on the nose, "That's not nice, Con."

"Is that true?" Leon asks, "If I get more points than you then you're blowing me in the parking lot."

"Hey, no fair, I want to be included in this," just because you couldn't go to the arena doesn't mean that you shouldn't be apart of sex bets.

"die Geduld," (patience) Leon mutters, kissing the top of your head, "If I get a hatty then I get to fuck (Y/N) however I want, and you just get to watch. If you get one then you get to do whatever you want to her and I won't interfere."

Connor pressed his mouth into a thin line. You couldn't blame him for wanting to take his time, Leon wasn't always the most generous person in the sex bet category.

"Deal," he says, outstretching his hand for Leon who clasps it firmly.

~~~

"5 points!" Connor says, smashing his lips against Leon' s as soon as they sit in Leon's spacious Genesis. Connor had made sure to take his time changing so they would be the last two to leave the arena.

Leon's hands wander down to Connor's belt, undoing the belt before Connor pulls away, "Hey aren't I supposed to be blowing you."

"I changed my mind."

In hindsight, they probably should have the gotten into the backseat so Leon didn't have the centre console digging into his ribs as he bent down to take Connor's cock into his mouth. He wraps his hand around the base, slowly jacking him off as he feels Connor's dick harden in his mouth. Leon feels a hand in his hair, blunt nails scratching against his scalp.

Leon doesn't notice that his phone is ringing until Connor's lifting his head up.

"(Y/N), is calling," he says slumped back against the seat.

"Answer it, put it on speaker," Leon commands, before dipping his head back down and licking his cock from base to tip.

"Hel-fuck, Leon," Connor mutters into the phone.

He hears you giggle on the line, "I was going to ask you guys why you're so late but I'm assuming you're still at the rink."

"Yeah," Connor breathes out, "Leo's trying to kill me."

Leon takes that as his cue to bob his head all the way down, until Connor's cock hits the back of his throat. Connor's hips thrust up involuntarily, but Leon's ready holding them down as best as he can from his awkward angle.

"I'm sure he is," you sound amused, "text me when you leave the rink."

Connor agrees but Leon's not sure he really heard what you said. He practically throws his phone down into the cup holder.

Leon looks up and Connor's face is completely flushed, traveling down the open collar of his shirt. His eyes are shut and he's panting against the seat. Leon drops Connor's dick from his mouth before blowing cool air on the tip and Connor's whole body jolts up.

"Leo," god Leon's never going to get bored of hearing his name, "Don't tease me."

Leon's hand slides up and down slowly, "I don't know what you mean."

Connor whines, and Leon laughs, "Please."

"Only because you asked so nicely," he teases as he ducks his head down again.

Leon knows exactly what Connor likes. Knows that Connor likes a little scratch go teeth along the underside of his dick once in a while. He knows that Connor likes short fast bobs of the head with a strong pressure on the base of his dick. Connor's fingers dig in the back of his neck and he knows Connor's close.

He keeps up his ministrations, stopping until Connor's spilling down his throat. A little bit dribbles out getting stuck in his beard when he he straightens up to clear his throat.

Connor leans over to kiss Leon, thumbing the little white spot in his beard before slipping his finger in-between Leon's lips. Leon wraps his lips around Connor's finger, humming lightly before he moves his head far back enough for it to fall out.

"Fix yourself," Leon says, jerking his head toward Connor's limp dick, not yet tucked back into his pants, "I hope you enjoyed my generosity because that's the last time you're cumming tonight."

"Text, (Y/N) we'll be home in 20 minutes."

~~~

Leon stops midstep when he gets into the bedroom and Connor walks right into him.

"Dude, what the the hell?" He says poking Leon in the spine.

"I take it you didn't check your texts," you tease as Leon finally remembers how to move his legs.

Goddamit, that's what he gets for trying to "live in the moment" or whatever bullshit that is.

You're sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing the Oilers navy alternate with a pair of knee-high stockings. He can see the lines of your garters holding them up when you shift, but he's very aware of the 29 sitting on your shoulders.

You lean back on your hands, looking like a renaissance painting. The neon looks so good on your deep skin tone, the navy complimenting every inch of you. He doesn't notice that you're wearing heals until he tries to get close to you and the sharp heel presses into his chest.

"Congratulations on your hatty," you say pulling a hat from seemingly nowhere and throwing it at him lightly.

"Fuck, why didn't I get 2 more goals," Connor groans from the closet, probably changing into something more comfortable.

"Go sit," Leon commands and Connor obeys, but grumbles the entire time, "And I swear to god if I catch you doing anything I didn't explicitly tell you to do then you won't be coming for a year."

Leon grabs your foot from where its perch on Leon's chest. He debates taking of your heels but he decides against it. He kisses your calf, slowly sinking down to his knees. He trails up to your inner thighs, biting the soft skin to hear the little gasps. He spreads your legs apart and slides the jersey over your hips. His heads falls forward with a groan when he realizes the panties you're wearing are crotchless.

"Baby," He groans, "You're going to be the death of me."

You laugh, lowering yourself onto the bed, "I thought you'd enjoy being able to fuck me with all this on."

And he does, he really really does want to fuck you with his jersey on, and rip your stockings to pieces. He pulls your legs over his shoulders, nipping your inner thighs again. He wants to leave marks all over your body. Watch the hickeys bloom onto your dark skin, a subtle reminder that you're his.

He pulls you down so your pussy, is right over the edge of the bed. He kisses your clit, and you sigh contently. Leon pulls your clit into his mouth and your hands run through his hair. He licks a stripe up your pussy, groaning when he realizes how wet you are.

"God, baby have you been thinking about me fucking you this whole time," he asks, slowly pumping one finger into your pussy.

You nod, "Your hockey gets me so hot, Leo."

Leon wants to make fun of you for that but he can't find it in himself to do so. Instead he adds a second finger, slowly scissoring the two to open you up. Your back arches, pushing your pussy into his face and he Leon resists the urge to fuck you then and there.

When he looks up at you he realizes that you've pulled your jersey up and are pinching your nipples. He moans into your pussy, causing a loud gasp to be ripped from your throat. Leon doesn’t waste his time, devoring you like a man starved. He switches between his tongue in your pussy and his fingers, alternating pressures on your clit, teasing.

“Leeeee,” you groan, digging your nails into his scalp. Leon relishes in the feeling, pressing up against your hand.

Finally he gives you exactly what you want. Curling his fingers in your pussy the way you like, and his lips attached to your clit, humming softly to sens a shudder up your spine.

“Leo,” you cal, breasts heaving as you near the end, “let me cum please.”

Leon deattaches his mouth momentarily, long enough to say “Cum,” and before winking up at you.He feels your pussy convulse around his fingers. As soon as you ease up he’s throwing his belt on and jacket on the floor, he hardly even remembered he was wearing clothes at all, before pulling his cock out and slipping into you.

You wheeze, almost as if you’d been punched in the gut, as Leon doesn’t give you time to adjust. He’s got one of your wrists locked in each of his hands as he ruts into you. His head ducks down to kiss your the space between your breasts, traveling up to your neck. His beard tickles your throat. Eventually your lips connect, his hips keeping a steady rhythm.

Leon knows when you’re about to cum, knows every tell your body has. He grabs your leg, hiking it up to his hip, using calculated thrusts to get your toes curl and to get you to scream his name.

He doesn’t wait for you to recover, flips you over onto your stomach and hikes up your jersey. He jacks himself off quickly, using your slick to slide his hand quickly. He’s been so amped up from the game it doesn’t take long for him to cum all over your back, the bottom of the jersey getting drenched in his jizz. He stays there for awhile, catching his breath before he turns his head to Connor.

Speaking of, Connor’s face is red, way more red than Leon’s ever seen before. There’s a noticeable tent in his pants and the veins in his arms are bulging with how tight he’s gripping the chair arms.

Leon beckons him over with one finger, and unbuttons his shirt with the other. The fabric is sticking to his skin and he definetly needs a shower, but he’s got one more thing to do before he can change.

You shift underneath him, trying to worm yourself free but Leon puts a and on your back to keep you still. Connor kneels on the bed over your shoulders, careful to keep his weight off you. Leon pulls Connor in by the shirt collar, smashing his lips against his before reaching into his sweatpants to pull out his dick.

“No boxers,” Leon notes, slowly rubbing his cock slowly, “slut.”

“Says the man who sucked my dick in a parking garage.”

“Don’t sass me,” Leon gives the base of his dick a hard squeeze, and Connor lurches forward.

Connor is usually pretty quiet during sex, except when he’s tired. His constant string of moans is strange but not unwelcome as he thrusts softly into Leon’s hand. He would be embarrassed by how quickly he cums, but watching you and Leon always gets him hot. He adds to the pool of jizz on your back before carefully lifting himself off you and padding to the bathroom.

He grabs a washcloth from their stash in the cupboard and runs it under warm water before heading back. Leon has helped you get out of your jersey, which was probably ruined, and is sliding your shoes and stockings off your feet.

By the time Connor’s finished washing you up, Leon’s leaning back against the pillows and you’re getting up to use the bathroom. Connor throws the damp towel in the laundry bin before cuddling up to Leon.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” Leon mumbles.

“Because you didn’t want to fuck me,” Connor responds. And Leon just grunts.

“Hey, Leo, wake the fuck up,” you say poking him in the inner thigh until one of Leon’s eyes pops open.

“You still haven’t checked my message,” you hand him his phone and he sighs, holding one hand behind his head as he opens your text.

Oh man, if Connor weren’t so tired he’d probably get hard again but instead he just looks at the picture your sent Leon. You’ve got your jersey on, and your ass is perched on the counter, looking spankable and wrapped in lace.

The next picture is of you with the jersey pulled up past your boobs. You’re playing with your clit, panties and stockings in full view, and Connor wants so badly to fuck when you’re wearing his jersey.

“Baby girl, you’re so lucky that I’m about to pass out or I’d make you her on your knees right now.”

#poly fic #leon draisaitl #connor mcdavid #ran writes #nhl smut

[plasticdean]

stone cold - chapter 2

murky waters

mob!dean-charles chapman au warnings: language, smoking, blood, gun violence, death, violence word count: 1.6k series masterlist

I never really understood why my mother wanted to get out of Long Island so badly but as I grew up and started understanding the world and people through my own eyes, I started to fucking hate it here too. 

Although my family is loaded, I never really fit in with your stereotypical Long Island guys. If you weren’t a white guy that wears those tacky plaid shirts with the ugly khaki shorts and boat shoes, being just a blunt racist, and a proud bootlicker well then, you were an outsider. 

“I’m so fucking glad you never tried dressing like that,” My father sneered as he stared at all the douchebags we walked by in the parking lot of the docks.

“I would’ve beat the shit out of myself if I even thought of wanting to," I replied.

__________________

The meeting my dad and grandpa are dragging me to is happening on some big ass yacht. I had my suspicions that this wasn’t some business meeting because my father liked to do those meetings where you just know bad shit is gonna happen and someone isn’t gonna come back in the middle of the ocean so no one could hear anything and it’s a more convenient place to drop a body off if you needed to.

Come to think of it, maybe my mother is here. I know, that’s a fucked up thought to have but i, have fucked up thoughts so it’s fine.

My thoughts were cut off by a booming voice, “Ah! The Stone men! So good to see you guys again!” I looked up to see an older man who was about the same size as my grandpa on the upper deck of the big, sparkling white yacht with his hands out.

“Come on up here!” He said with a gesture. 

I followed my Dad and Grandpa onto the deck and up the stairs, gripping the railing as the yacht began to move away from the dock towards the open ocean.

“Donny, this is my son Dean. He just took over the business yesterday,” My dad said as he put his hand on my shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, son, I guess I’ll be dealing with you from now on,” He said with a chuckle as he shook my hand. I looked at my dad and saw his demeanor slightly change. 

Yep, I wasn’t gonna be doing any business with him. Poor fucker.

My grandpa was leaning against the railing, watching the waves hit the side of the yacht while smoking a cigar. I decided to go to the other side of the deck just in case I had the sudden urge to just push him off the side. That wouldn’t be very professional and also just wouldn’t satisfy me enough. 

"Leo, I have to thank you for inviting me onto your yacht, she's a beauty," Donny said.

His yacht? Since when the fuck did my dad have a yacht?

I pulled a cigarette out and lit it up, listening to my father and Donny’s conversation. My father was using his low and condescending tone, his arm over Donny’s shoulder as they were at the front of the deck, looking out at the water ahead of them. 

I puffed out a cloud of smoke as my father called me over, I sighed and put my cigarette out in the ashtray that was next to me. 

“Yeah?” I asked as I walked over, seeing Donny sweating buckets and his knees looking like they’re about to buckle.

“Shoot this motherfucker right in the fucking head,” My father sneered.

“Please, please sir. I promise you it wasn’t me that took money from you. I swear to fucking god whoever told you it was me probably did it!” Donny said as he begged for his life.

My dad grabbed him by the throat and squeezed, “I think you’re a fucking rat. A dirty and lying FUCKING rat and you should know, I don’t fucking like lying rats.”

Well, that’s a bit fucking hypocritical.

“Come on Dean, shoot him in the fucking head!” My father demanded.

I pulled my gun out from my holster and pointed it at the back of his head, ready to pull the trigger until my grandpa stopped us.

“Turn him around, make him face Dean,” My grandpa instructed my father while still leaning on the railing, watching what was unfolding right in front of him.

My dad turned him around so Donny’s eyes that were full of tears and fear looked right into mine. He silently started to plead with me while I watched the sweat pouring from his hairline down to his neck.

I took a deep breath and stared right back into his eyes. He was like this because of me. I had the power to take his life. 

I could hear my grandpa sigh and mumble “jesus fucking christ” under his breath. I turned my head to slightly look at him as he watched me with a doubtful and annoyed expression on his face. 

I matched his expression as I pulled the trigger, the man falling right in front of me. I looked at my father who had a bit of blood on his face then looked down at the body in front of me, blood oozing out of the hole right in the back of his head.

I felt the same feeling I did when I first witnessed my father kill someone but times ten. 

My dad smacked my back, “I fucking knew you had it in ya, son.” He wiped off the blood that was on his cheek with a handkerchief and looked down at the body in front of me.

I clenched my jaw and looked at my father, my Glock feeling hot in my hand. 

My dad gave me the same smug look he did last night when I was ready to beat the shit out of him but, I didn't have shaking fists this time, I have a gun.

“You can’t hesitate when you do business like this,” my father said lowly.

I tilted my head and nodded and looked down at the dead man’s head and pointed my gun at it again, pulling the trigger.

“Is that better?” I sarcastically say.

BANG

“What about that, Dad?” 

BANG

“Do you think he fucking understands now?” I yell.

At that moment I felt nothing. After every squeeze of the trigger, I felt nothing. 

“THAT’S FUCKING ENOUGH,” My grandpa shouted as he quickly walked over to us, grabbing the gun from my grip.

I looked down at my shoes to see them covered them in the blood that was pooling out of the new bullet holes I made. 

“Fuck, FUCK!” I yell out as I see the docks slowly coming into view in the distance.

I hurried up and took my shoes off and threw them off the yacht into the ocean and watched them sink. 

__________________

As I leaned up against railing looking into the water, my head suddenly smacked against the railing and my throat was pressed up against the bar, slightly cutting off my airway.

“If you ever pull a fucking stunt like that I will take you out to the middle of the fucking ocean and throw your stupid ass off and make you die out there,” My father hissed as he held my head against the railing.

I tried getting out of his grip as I struggled to breathe.  

He let go of me and I dropped, gasping for air. I stared up at the sky, panting, as I could feel the boat docking.

My father looked down at me, “You better get the fuck up and off the boat before YOUR men come on and clean this up.” He stepped over me and walked down the stairs. 

I quickly got up and adjusted my shirt as my grandpa gave me a look before shaking his head, “fucking prick,” he mumbled as he followed my dad.

I watched them walk off the boat and onto the dock, talking to three other men who I presumed was the “clean-up crew”. 

__________________

I lit up a cigarette and slowly walked downstairs and off the boat. Instead of joining the group, I walked towards the end of the dock, watching the sunset. I let out a puff of smoke and replayed the events that happened just barely 20 minutes ago.

“Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath, taking a long inhale of my cigarette as I thought about the feeling pulling the trigger the first time, watching the life leave his eyes. It was fucking exhilarating.

I finished my cigarette and threw it in the water and rubbed at my head as it began throbbing. I turned to go walk to the car that was waiting for us but stopped dead in my tracks as I caught writing on the side of the yacht.

La Bella Claire.

All I could feel was a coldness, like all the blood in my veins turned to ice. Did I just do that shit on a boat named after my mother? Was this her boat?? Did that sick fuck name it that on purpose?? 

I stood frozen in my place but turned my head to look at my dad who was waiting for me at the other end of the dock near the parking lot. He stared at me with almost a satisfied look on his face, “Come on, Dean,” he called out as he got into the backseat of the car. 

I slowly turned my head away from the boat and began walking in the direction of the car. I looked back and caught the men cleaning up the upper deck and noticed that there was no one else around the docks or even in the parking lot.

I got in the passenger seat and lit up another cigarette as the began moving, the sight of the yacht slowly disappearing from the side-view mirror. 

I took a big inhale and blew the smoke out of the window with a shaky sigh.

What the fuck just happened?

__________________

read chapter 3

#dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman imagine #dean charles chapman fanfiction #dean charles chapman au #mob!dean #dean-charles chapman #fanfiction

[odinsonsobsessed]

Damn Him

Inspired by the pictures and gifs of Wimbledon 2019

You can hardly stay focused on anything with an excited Tom dressed in a new suit for a day at the All England Lawn Tennis & Croquet Club. All you want to do is peel that expensive suit off of that body.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader || Word Count: 1.6k || Rated: T || Warnings: Tom Hiddleston being a full course meal. I mean seriously, how does it get any yummier than him?

Steps were heard in the hallway coming toward your bedroom. Perfect timing, you had just slipped into your floral dress and you needed to be zipped up.

“Will you zip me up?” You called out and not but a few seconds later, you felt his fingers on your back. Tom pulled on the zipper for what seemed like a century, his movements were slow as if he were savoring the task. His breath hit the back of your neck and was soon replaced with his lips as he pressed a couple of kisses to the nape.

“Is this new?”

You bit your lip, “Yeah…” Your reply was breathless and you mentally cursed him for doing this to you before the two of you went out for the afternoon.

“I like it. Fits you perfectly.” His lips touched your cheek in a quick peck as he moved around you to the closet.

So do your clothes. You thought with a grin.

With your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes were glued to his deliciously curved backside as you watched him go, his navy blue pants hugged him generously, giving you a very pleasing view. His light blue dress shirt was tight around his upper back and shoulders, showing off his lean but muscular build. The view was brief as he disappeared into the closet, but returned a few moments later with his new racket patterned tie that you had gotten him for this birthday a few months back. It warmed your heart to see his eyes light up when he'd opened it that day, a long lasting smile graced his lips and you knew he loved it.

“Return the favor?” He asked but you were already holding out your hand for him to pass you the tie. You ran your fingers along it, feeling its tiny ridges as you held it in your grip before looping it around his neck so that you could fasten it. You noticed the childlike grin on his face, the one he typically got when he was about to go somewhere that he thoroughly enjoyed.

“Are you excited?”

His grin never faltered as he shook his head stiffly, trying not to move too much as you fixed his tie. “No… Maybe."

“Don’t lie to me. You’re ecstatic. You can barely keep still.” You giggled, thinking about how adorable it was that this kind of stuff made him this happy. It was the little things.

Tom chuckled sheepishly, “It’s supposed to be an interesting tournament this year. A lot of promising players.”

You finished up with his tie and couldn’t help but stand up on the tip of your toes with your arms draped around his neck to give him a kiss. He placed his hands to your back and brought you a little closer, bringing your lips more firmly against his. You groaned into the kiss as he ran his warm, slick tongue across your bottom lip. Pulling back, you gave him a playful glare, "Now that's not fair. We don't have time for this."

"You started it." He gave your lips a short, chaste kiss and removed himself from you.

"Wh- How do you figure that?!" You called after him as he walked away. Tom left you to go finished getting ready, leaving you standing there with your heart beating fast and wondering how in the hell you started it. If he was talking about your quickly intended kiss, then he was wrong! It wasn't your fault he responded so well to it.

You shook your head as you slipped on a pair of heels and went to fetch your jewelry, your mind completely stuck on that kiss. Damn him.

As you were putting your earrings in, you saw him step into view by the reflection of the mirror on your vanity.

Oh fuck me.

Now with his completed look in your view, you felt all of your breath leave your lungs. He looked like a damn treat. No, scratch that. He looked like an entire fucking meal. A majestic lion is what really came to mind when you first laid eyes on him, his mane and beard was groomed to your liking. His naturally waved hair slicked back and his beard neatly trimmed. Your eyes wandered downward to the rest of his body. The darkness of his suit made him look taller than he already was, the jacket fit him to a T. Now that you had distance between you, it gave you a better view of his whole situation... and more importantly, his package situation.

You swallowed, returning your attention to the earring you had tried to stick into your earlobe at least five times, but failed. Your distracted movements had seemingly gone unnoticed by Tom, who had come up behind you to place his hands onto your waist.

"Are you ready to go? Our car will be here in ten minutes."

"Yeah, almost." Finally, you focused and got the earring to cooperate and thread into your ear.

Tom's hands slid his hands to your stomach, pulling you against his chest in a warm embrace. You rested your arms on top of his and squeezed them in return. You turned your head and he kissed you a couple of times before pulling back to look at you. "You look absolutely beautiful, my darling. You make me a proud husband."

You giggled, gazing into his pretty blue eyes that were staring back into yours. "I'm just as proud to be your wife. Look how handsome you are in your new Ralph Lauren suit. Such a stud."

Tom glanced down at himself and you felt the tips of his curls brush against the side of your neck with the tilt of his head. "Is that what this is?" He mumbled and a chuckle escaped his lips as he looked back up at you with a playful grin, "A stud, huh?"

"Yes," You sighed dramatically, "I'm going to have to bat all the old ladies off of you today."

"Nevermind that you imply that only someone old would be attracted to me or that Tennis is only spectated by older individuals…" You couldn't help but giggle at his hilarious assumption. He raised his eyebrows in a playfully shocked look, "You would harm all of those elderly women?"

You let a wicked grin form on your lips, "You make me do crazy things, Mr. Hiddleston."

Tom laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Crazy things, hm? Why don't you show me what-" His suggestion was cut short by his cell phone ringing in his pocket. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and answered the call, walking off to talk to the person on the other end of the line.

You assumed that it was your driver, reaching over to take your small handbag from the vanity and following him out. Sure enough, Tom was ushering you out of the house and into the car.

The whole way over, you glanced over at Tom as he chatted with your longtime, trusted driver about today's plans, all the while unknowingly holding your undivided attention as his hand held yours between you, his thumb brushing your knuckles constantly, almost like he was reminding you that his sexy self was sitting there so close. They discussed what they thought the outcome would be and other Tennis related politics, which kept him too busy to catch you eyefucking him in his suit.

You wanted nothing more than to thread your fingers into that golden brown hair and tug him to you. Fantasies about fucking him in the backseat right then and there ran wild in your mind.

Damn him.

As much as you loved to see his suit on, you couldn't wait to take it off of him later. No really, you couldn't wait. You couldn't focus on the match, you didn't have a clue most of the time. You tried not to keep looking at him during the entirety of the event, but you couldn't help it. He just looked so good. Thank goodness for that unfaltering focus of his, you were free to oogle him as much as you had liked without him scolding your lack of attention toward the game.

The day dragged on, seeming like it lasted for weeks before you were finally on your way home. Tom was in a good mood, chatting happily with driver about the outcome while your hand rested on his thigh, mostly going unnoticed. He draped his arm around you when you'd done it, but that's about it. Gosh, he was so oblivious sometimes. Sometimes he had no idea the affect he had on you.

The moment the driver stopped outside of your house, you were ready to go inside. Obviously, Tom was not. He kept his conversation going, his enthusiasm would have been cute if arousal wasn't swirling around in your belly with anticipation.

Finally, after you couldn't take it anymore, you laid your hand gently on his arm, "Tom…"

He looked at you with the realization that you were waiting on him and flashed you an apologetic look. "Sorry love. We'll go inside now." He turned back to the driver and said his goodbyes before the two of you exited the car.

You thought you were home free when Tom stepped out of the car, until the driver said something and Tom turned back to answer him.

"Ohhhh no you don't." You tugged Tom's arm and he gasped, quickly saying goodbye to him.

"What's this about?"

"I've been mentally undressing you all day, I'm not waiting a second longer." You grabbed his tie and pulled him toward the house as he grinned at you.

"So about these crazy things I make you do, Mrs. Hiddleston. Care to show me now?"

"Oh trust me, Mr. Hiddleston, I plan to."

@fandom-and-feminism @fadingcoast @igotloki @mrshiddleston-uk @nikkalia @manager-of-mischief @spidey-bites @kcd15 @dangertoozmanykids101 @xxloki81xx @devilbat @furstinnajoelle @exbandragirl @sabine-leo @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms @officiallyunofficialperson @joyofbebbanburg @littlefrogstuff @wolfsmom1 @wrappedinlokisarms @scorpionchild81 @theoneanna @drakesfiance @awkwardfangirl2014 @archy3001

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston/reader #tom hiddleston x reader #damn him #wimbledon2019

[violet-louie]

tagged by @s-fightme (i’m pretty sure i did this like a month ago whoops)

1. nicknames: i don’t really get nicknames just pet names

2. gender: just a regular Female™

3. star sign: leo

4. height: 159cm

5. time: 7.55am

6. birthday: july 30th

7. favourite bands: its usually in my about me which is linked in my bio but like twenty one pilots, one direction, and young the giant are like my main go tos

8. favourite solo artist: dodie but recently tom rosenthal

9. song stuck in my head: stickwitchu by the pussycat dolls

10. last movie I watched: um i think it was dear john

11. last show I watched: outlander, would definitely recommend

12. when did I create my blog: late 2015

13. what do I post: one direction(harry and larry mainly)

14. last thing I googled: “how to become a medically independent minor”

15. do I have any other blogs: yeah my side blog (nsfw) @lace-lust-lingerie

16. do I get any asks: mainly just from my friend lol but yeah

17. why did I choose my URL: it’s cute and like not far from my last url (violet-somnolence) i just realised my blog is mainly harry so may as well

18. following: idk like 3.6k

19. followers: like 1.6k

20. average hours of sleep: depends on the week but usually anywhere from 6-7.5

21. lucky number: 4, 17, or 21

22. instruments: ukuleleee (i can also very shittily play the guitar) and like the marimba holds a special place in my heart lmao

23. what am I wearing: my uniform

24. dream job: idk man ask me in a year

25. dream trip: france ! but considering that’s happening it’d either be chicago to see my internet friend or like backpacking europe

26. favourite food: i don’t really know anymore whoops but i’m always a slit for trifle ?

27. nationality: new zealander (basically i’m white)

28. favourite song: idk there are too many songs in the world but hit up my spotify if you want (acepai1953)

look i aint tagging anyone, do it if you want and tag me 👍🏼

[hopefulsapphic]

this is my @feastoffortuna2017 gift for @omegas-m! it’s ~1.6k words and it’s a jercy soulmate au in which the name of your soulmate appears on your arm on your 18th birthday.

(i’m gonna apologize now because i know you asked for n s f w, but i can’t do that so you get some dumb slow burn fluff instead i’m really really sorry)

Ever since the grocery store down the street closed down and became a gym, this has been their thing. At least once a month, Jason and Percy meet there for a little friendly competition. 

Now Jason’s watching as Percy adds more weight to the machine. If he can do 15 leg extensions at that weight, he’ll beat Jason and take the lead.

Percy counts out loud just to rub it in, “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7...8….9...10...11...12...13...14…...15! Yes!”

Jason's a little distracted today, but he manages to roll his eyes and say, “There's no way you're beating me the day before my birthday. We're doing pull ups next, I'm the best at that.”

“We’ll see about that,” Percy said with a grin that always tempts Jason to grin too 

It's Percy's turn to go first, and Jason has to force himself to pay attention. If he lets his mind go, he’ll start worrying too much. He doesn’t to worry, he just wants to focus on having fun with his best friend.

 “50!” Percy announces, “Beat that!”

 Okay so Jason had let himself drift off a little, but Percy's voice brings him out of this thoughts. “What did you say?”

 “50,” Percy repeats. A slight look of concern appears in his eyes and he says, “You've been kinda out of it today...You okay, man?”

 “Yeah,” Jason says quickly, “I'm just thinking about...I find out my soulmate’s name tomorrow, my 18th birthday.”

 “Oh yeah…” Percy says and his grin is back, “Try not to worry about that too much, I'm sure you'll get some sweet girl...like Piper maybe. What you really should be stressing about is if you can do more than 50 pull ups.”

“That, I'm not worried about,” Jason retorts. But this time he does smile as well. Somehow his anxiety seems illogical now after Percy spoke.

Half an hour later, their day at the gym ends in a tie, which neither of them are upset about. The two of them laugh and high five before going their separate ways 

That night, Jason goes to bed with his mind clear, any anxious thought being driven out the the echo of Percy's voice. “Try not to worry...I'm sure you'll get some sweet girl…”

Still, when he wakes up the next morning he lays there for a while, enjoying his last few moments of ignorance. From now on, whether he likes it or not, he's tied to whoever’s name is written on his arm.

 Eyes still closed, Jason lifts his arm over his head so that when he opens his eyes the name is all he sees. The black letters are a part of his skin now, spelling out the name of the person who is destined to become like a part of him: PERCY

Jason has to read the name a total of three times before it hits him. Percy. As in Percy Jackson. As in Jason’s best friend Percy Jackson, whom he'd just spent the entire previous day with. Percy is Jason's soulmate.

 This is weird. This is really, really weird. Jason had never been opposed to the idea that his soulmate could be a dude, but the fact that it’s this dude in particular...Jason can’t wrap his head around it. His mind is swirling with thoughts and questions:

 But he's my best friend. 

I've never thought of him like that, right?

But could I?

How am I going to tell him? 

Should I tell him at all?

 He’ll find out on his own in a little over a month anyways.

 Jason decides not to say anything. Not until he can work through his own thoughts.

 Less than a minute later he gets a text from Percy saying ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRO’ to which he responds with ‘thanks!’ But when the next message is ‘sooooo...who's your soulmate?’ Jason leaves him on read.

+++

For the next month or so, Jason wears long sleeves in the heat of the summer and spends way too long analyzing his thoughts and feelings whenever he's around Percy.

 Sure, the other boy is definitely attractive, with his messy dark hair and playful grin that lights up his sea green eyes. Plus his personality is loyal, and kind, and funny. All good things, Jason thinks. But those are just the thoughts.

 As for feelings, well, Jason has always felt safe and comfortable around his friend, but now he pays extra attention to how his heart reacts whenever Percy laughs or smiles or tells a joke. He notices the way it jumps a tiny bit and wonders why he's never noticed it before or if it's a newer thing.

 He tries to imagine what it would be like to kiss Percy...or more. It’s less difficult to picture than he originally thought. And it’s not bad. It’s not bad at all.

 And all the while Percy is still trying to get Jason to spill the name of his soulmate.

 Today they'd run into each other at a McDonald's and decided to stay and share a thing of fries together. And somehow Percy always manages to bring the conversation back to Jason’s soulmate.

 “It's like, 100 degrees outside and you're wearing a sweater, so it's gotta be someone gross...” Percy theorizes. He pauses for a second then snaps his fingers, “Is it Drew?”

Jason almost chokes on a French fry, “No, it's not Drew.”

“Hmm…” Percy looks up in thought, “Is it….no, I've already gone through all the girls we know…”

An amused sort of smile spreads across Jason's face as he raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“Oh, is it not a girl, then?” Percy realizes, “Well that opens up a lot more possibilities. Is it….Nico?”

 “Nope,” Jason says.

 “Leo?”

 “Not Leo.”

 “How about -”

 Jason cuts him off, “I’ll tell you once you know your soulmate too. We can reveal them together.”

 “Alright,” Percy shrugs, “I guess I can wait another week and a half.”

 A week and a half. A week and a half until Jason can't hide behind long sleeves and silence anymore. That week and a half goes by way too fast, in his opinion.

 +++

 It’s August 18th now and Jason wakes up to the sound of his phone going off. It’s ringing so much, he can’t tell whether it’s a bunch of text messages or phone calls. With a sigh, he reaches over to grab his phone from his nightstand.

13 unread messages and 4 missed calls, all from Percy. Of course. Jason opens the messages:

Hey

Hey

Jason

I know who your soulmate is

It’s me isn’t it, it was my name that you were trying to hide

I’m right, aren’t I

Of course I’m right I can see your name on my arm

Jaaaaasssooonnnnnn

Answer me 

We need to talk about this

Come on bro

Wait should I even call you bro anymore? 

Check your damn phone dude

As Jason reads through the texts, another one comes through.

 Don’t you dare leave me on read again, I see you

 For some reason, that message causes a small smile to flicker across Jason’s face, and he shakes his head to himself. He responds to Percy with ‘ok, let’s talk.’ and the immediate reply is ‘I’m coming over.’ 

Percy shows up less than ten minutes later. His short-sleeved t-shirt leaves the name on his arm exposed and clearly visible. It’s the first thing Jason sees when he opens the door - his own name on his best friend’s arm, written in big black letters. This is real.

Jason glances at his own arm as he opens the door wider to let his friend in. He’s not covering his with his sleeve either, there’s no point in hiding it anymore.  Percy glances at it too and he says, “How did you feel when you first saw that?”

 “Confused.” Jason replies honestly, closing the door and moving into the living room,  “I didn’t know what to do or how I felt or how I should’ve felt.”

 Percy follows, lounging on one of the couches like the atmosphere is still comfortable and easy. And it’s strange because it is, despite the awkward conversation topic. “What about now?”

 “Now…” Jason hesitates as he sits down as well, trying to find the right words, “Now, I’ve gotten used to the idea and I feel...like it’s not a bad thing.”

 “Not a bad thing, huh? Alright, I’ll take it.” Percy grins and raises his eyebrows, “I mean, I think it’s a pretty great thing, but then again I have liked you for a while now.”

 Jason blinks, “Wait, really?”

 “Yeah, really.”

 “...Wow…”

Neither of them say anything for a little while, and for the first time there’s a tension between them and the air is thick with the awkwardness of it, like there’s something that needs to be said, something that needs to be done. Jason recognizes what it is first, or at least he’s the first to speak. He laughs and immediately the air feels lighter.

Then he looks at Percy and says, “Why did we even need to talk about this? What else do we need to say? We both kinda like each other...we’re soulmates for god’s sake, can’t we just start this and kiss already?”

“Finally.” A grin is back on Percy’s face as he sits up.

It’s hard to tell who initiates the kiss first as they both surge towards each other at the same time. Their lips crash together and there’s no room for softness or hesitancy. They both want this, want each other, and they’re not holding anything back.

#fof2017 #feast of fortuna #jercy #pjo #jason grace #percy jackson #my writing #ignore me i'm just gonna...vent in the tags real quick - #i'm super insecure about this actually??? i feel like it's the opposite of what you wanted and i feel horrible!!! i'm! sorry! !!! !!!!!!! !!

[slipstreamborne]

Assuming Command (2014 fic)

rating: T for language and some violence summary:  With Leo incapacitated and the city drowning in their wake, Donnie struggles to take the helm. notes:  1.6k hurt/comfort panic attack fic for @tmntflashfic prompt #009, Hearts and Minds.  Can also be read here at AO3.

Donnie can’t remember the last time Mikey was this quiet for this long.  Can’t remember much beyond the past few hours leading to them fleeing Manhattan in a hot-wired Chanel 6 news van with his oldest brother curled comatose between the rear wheel wells, actually.  Flashes of things come through unbidden—Karai triumphant, face hidden and pronged gauntlets slick with blood; shattered glass flickering whitegoldred on the floor as flames swallow April’s apartment; city streets drowning under a surge of dark water, storm drains gurgling  filth as the overfull sewers vomit under the onslaught—but when he tries to probe further all he finds is sheets of static hung up like electrified curtains, a hasty force field meant to keep him from treading over freshly scorched neurons.

Shock.  He’s in shock.

But he can’t be in shock. He’s not allowed.  Mikey and Raph and April and Leo (broken bleeding burned but breathing keep breathing Leo Leo you gotta keep) need him and he’s not—

Between their shells and the broadcasting equipment they haven’t had the time or tools to rip out and cast aside there’s barely room to think in the back of the van, especially with Leo stretched out on the roughly napped carpet.  The van reeks of old take-out and the overpowering char of singed flesh.  It takes all the willpower he can spare to keep from gagging, his nausea not helped at all by the van’s badly balanced suspension and the heavily potholed highway beneath them.  

Casey has a place upstate, he says, an old farm turned commune  by his stubbornly free-spirited grandparents, abandoned now but out of the way and safe.  

“Just like home,” he assures them, knuckles white around the steering wheel.  “Reeks of patchouli and everything.”

(Donatello knows too well the smell of dead rats after a hard rain.  How it feels to wade through their bloated, loose-limbed bodies.)

Mikey watches intently as Donnie fiddles with the leads connecting Leo to his hastily-repurposed computer pack.  He feels naked without its familiar weight against his shell, untethered, but his brother’s need is far greater than his own.  Leo’s heart rate is erratic, his breathing shallow.  They need to get him someplace quiet and still.  Someplace where Donnie can focus.

“He’ll be okay.”  Mikey’s voice is rough from disuse and unshed tears. One hand hovers hesitatingly over the long crack in Leo’s shell, wanting to touch but afraid of shattering him further. “Right?”

Raph’s eyes flick up to meet his, silver irises shadowed by the same question.  All they want is a word.  Just one.  Yes or...

Or...

There are days when Donnie just can’t shut up (not won’t, because will is not the issue, because the words just trip and run on and on and he’s not fast enough to catch them, to pull them away from the places they aren’t wanted), and there are days when sound won’t come at all.  At least not in the shapes he wants it too.  Tongue stuck and chest full of too-hot air and the raw, high whining of his brain still has to come out, somehow, like steam from a tea kettle. 

Lucky then for the cold sink of his body, for long reptilian limbs that leak heat into the damp chill of sewer.  Lucky then for morning practice and the repetition of bow and stretch and hit and hit and hit (“Again, Donatello”) until the rhythm overwhelms him, the impact of stone and wood and flesh against his palms knuckles feet shell wrapping itself like a heavy blanket over all his too-prominent parts.

(Sometimes, when he should be sleeping, he lies awake for hours, sickened by the feel of his own heart beating.  A fist-sized machine beyond his control, a drum forever out of step with the rapid-fire cadence  inside his head.)

“You alright, Don?” Casey calls.   He’s watching him through the rearview mirror, brow furrowed and eyes bloodshot. April, after much brow-beating from Raph, finally crawled into the front seat for a nap half an hour ago.  The hard jut of her forehead rattles faintly against the passenger door window as the van drifts briefly across the rumble strip. The blue glow of the console radio dial is just bright enough for Donnie to make out her reflection against the glass, pale and expressionless as the moon, jaw slack against her chest and lank hair lank streaked with soot.  She looks dead.  Deader than Leo, even, and he’s—

“I gotta,” Donnie says. “I gotta, I gotta—”  

The rest doesn’t want to come out.  Not even when he rolls his head back (and back and back), mouth stretched wide as possible to give it room.  Not even when his fingers worm their way inside to try and pull it free.

“Hey.”  Raph looms into his space, but it’s not him he’s talking to.   A hand the size of a hubcap reaches out, taps Casey decisively on the shoulder.  “Pull over.  Piss break.”

The good thing about this part of rural New England, there’s no shortage of desolate side roads.

Raph all but pushes him out of the back of the van before Casey can even put it in park.  Is somehow also there to catch Donnie again as his locked limbs struggle to orient themselves in this suddenly expanded universe. That doesn’t quite make sense, but who else would it be?  Mikey’s not tall enough to haul him up fullway by the shell like that and Leo is—

And Dad is—

The long grass is slick beneath his boots.  Down the edge of a ditch, then up the other side.  This is the darkest night he’s ever seen, city lights hours behind them and the stars hidden behind thick, roiling clouds.  The trees whisper conspiratorially amongst themselves as Raph marches him deep beneath their cover, both of them making more noise than any ninja has right to.  

Deep, deep, deeper. The yellow glow of headlights vanishes behind the thick guard of tree trunks.  

“Raph,” he says, breath hitching.  “Raph, I gotta...  I-I gottaaaaah—!”

“Hold on,” he says. His tread is hurried but even, each heavy footfall kicking up thick , damp blooms of petrichor.  “Hold on, a little further...”

They emerge in a small clearing thickly carpeted in pine needles.  If it weren’t for the roar of blood in Donnie’s ears all would be silent, silent.

Raph’s grip on his shell is suddenly cloying.  He twists out beneath it, shoulders hunched and arms up in a defensive block.  

“Donnie.”  Raph’s command voice is a hollow mockery of Leo’s, bigger but lacking the iron core that keeps it from ringing.  “Donnie, we need you to hold it together.”

Donnie shakes his head, teeth gritted.  The Earth is a rock hurtling thirty kilometers per second through space and the endless black of the night above threatens to swallow him whole and how can he do this? How can any of them—

“Not forever.  Just for now.  Just until Leo’s up and fighting again.”

He’s...” It’s so hard to breathe. “Raph, he’s not—”

He is,” Raph interrupts.  “We all are.”

“Raph...”

“Hit me,” he says, and that’s an order Donatello can gladly obey.

It’s an ugly fight. No weapons, no finesse.  Leo would...  But Leo’s not, is he?    Leo’s not, and that makes Donnie eldest, makes him—

“I can’t!” he gasps.  “Raph, Raph, I-I-I can’t I can’t!”

“You can,” Raph growls.  I’ll help you.”

Donnie roundhouse kicks him across the face.  Harder than he meant to.  The jolt vibrates all the way up his spine, down the curve of his shell.  The sound of Raph’s teeth snapping together rings out like a shot in the little clearing.  

“Fuck!” he grunts, spitting thickly onto the dense forest floor.  Donnie can smell the blood from here.  “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

By the time they finish, he can’t feel anything but the burn of cool night air ballooning his heaving lungs. One ear is ringing and his bad shoulder clicks faintly every time he moves it, but when they step back into the glow of the headlights it’s clear that Raphael got the worse end of things.

Casey is sitting on the front bumper, hunched guiltily over a cigarette.  His eyes go round at the sight of Raph’s bruised and rapidly-swelling jaw, the still-oozing bite mark sunk deep into one shoulder.

“Jesus!” he chokes, nearly swallowing the half-smoked butt. “Did you guys run into a bear or something?”

“Or something,” Donnie echoes.  Something deep, deep inside of him, some instinct as old and territorial as the dinosaurs, feels sated.  Feels calm. The world firmer beneath his feet, his place within it rightly won.

Mikey pokes his head out of the back of the van, mouth open around the start of a question.  The breeze shifts, his nostrils flare around the fresh copper of blood, and with a quick glance at Donnie, then Raph, then Donnie again, he closes his mouth, nods, and slips back inside.

The front passenger door creaks open.  “Why are we stopped?” April asks with a yawn, scrubbing blearily at her face.  If anything, she looks more exhausted after her all-too-brief nap.  “What’s going on?”

Raph sidles up beside him, a wall of flesh between him and the trees.  “It’s nothing,” he says.  Nudges him, then, hard with one elbow, the way he does when Leo pulls him up short. “Right, boss?”

Donnie looks up, letting the word roll around in his head like a marble, adjusting to feel of it, the weight.  The wind has parted the clouds just enough for him to glimpse a sliver of constellation-studded sky beyond, the arched head of the Nemean lion staring back in distant, glittering approval.

“C’mon,” he says, and that’s his voice, but there’s something else there, buoying it up. Something borrowed but unbending. “Let’s go.”

#donatello #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #raphael #tmnt #tmntflashfic #stuff i wrote #still bitter as hell we didn't get a 2014verse farmhouse scene #I NEED WOUNDED TURTLES IN GIANT JACUZZI TUBS STAT

[plasticdean]

stone cold - chapter 1

honor & whiskey

mob!dean-charles chapman au warnings: strong language, violence, drinking, smoking, mentions of abuse word count: 1.6k series masterlist

“Okay, when you’re ready just turn the safety off, take a deep breath, and-”

“Dad, I know how to shoot a fucking gun,” I said annoyed, instantly pulling the trigger and hitting the target right in the neck. 

Dad sighed and walked up to the rubber dummy target and shook his head, “why the fuck would you shoot him in the neck? Do you know how messy and unnecessary that is?”

I shrugged and stared at the dummy, “it gets the job done.”

My dad shook his head and walked over to me, putting his finger directly in my face, “No, what it does is it causes a fucking crime scene for you and then you’re putting everything at risk. You, the family, and our business.” 

I didn’t even listen to a word he was saying, all I could think about was the feeling of my fist hitting him right in the nose, knocking him right the fuck out. 

“You’re not even fucking paying attention,” My dad ripped the gun out of my grip and put it back in his holster, “You need to take this seriously, I’ve got your fucking grandfather up my ass talking about how you’re not ready and he doesn’t think you’ll ever be ready.”

I scoffed, “I’m fucking ready. I’ve been ready. You guys act like I just started learning all of this when I really I’ve been a part of it since I was little, but you wouldn’t know that.” My dad just looked at me timidly then turned around and walked back to the house as I smirked to myself.

Bringing up the past, more specifically, bringing up instances on how he did a really shit job “raising” me was my favorite thing to do. He never cared if I walked in on him beating the shit out of someone and on school nights I’d fall asleep at night to the sound of yelling, shit breaking, and gunshots. Father of the fucking century, right?

Everything I do is usually just to spite him. 

___________________

After the “disappearance” of my mother, my dad claimed that she ran away and abandoned me but I always knew that was a load of bullshit. Other people in town knew it was a load of bullshit too but they’d never try and go snitch or talk shit about the big bad Leo Stone, that’s just suicidal.

By my douchebag of a grandfather’s constant demanding, my dad ended up getting my last name legally changed to ‘Stone’. But because I love being a dickhead, right as I turned 18, I went through the long and torturous process of changing it back to Chapman. 

This, of course, went super well with both my dad and grandpa. 

“YOU FUCKING DID WHAT?”

“Dean, you better be fucking joking.”

I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged at my dad, “I’m not. Why does it matter? Can I not keep my mother’s last name to honor her?”

“Honor her?? She fucking abandoned you, Dean!” My grandpa said in a scolding tone. 

My whipped over to where he was standing, I clenched my jaw and tilted my head, “I think we all know she didn’t fucking abandon me,” I hissed back at him. The hatred I felt for him coursed through my body as I felt my blood boil. 

He walked over to me in a menacing way and looked down at me, “and what is that supposed to mean?” He asked me condescendingly. 

I stared back into his dark and cold eyes, not backing down, “did you help him? Or were you the mastermind behind it all and he was just your bitch?”

My grandpa chuckled at me, my eyebrows raised as I was trying to figure out what the fuck was so funny until he slammed me into the bookshelf behind me and wrapped his hand around my neck, “You better learn some god damn respect and remember who the fuck you’re talking to. I suggest you quit running that mouth because only bad things will happen. Get your head out of your ass and step the fuck up because soon, you’ll be the one running things and I swear to god if you fuck up what I worked so hard to build, I will fucking kill you myself.” 

I wish I could just put this fucker in a nursing home and let him rot there.

 ___________________

It was always expected that I was going to take over the “Family business” but I kind of expected to do it before I was 22, my dad was only 18 when he took charge. Honestly, I think my dad and grandpa just don’t trust me, I don’t blame them. 

Fuck them and fuck the family business. 

Today though, on my 22nd birthday, my present is taking over this absolute shit show business from my father. I wish I could get it in one of those big ass red bows. 

All I physically got was a copy of a contract I signed and an awkward handshake from my dad, grandpa, and a couple of other guys that bored the shit out of me with information about my duties and priorities and a bunch of other crap that I couldn’t care less about. 

My dad got glasses for all of us and poured in a bit of whiskey in each glass and handed them out and began to speak as the room went quiet.

“Dean, I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. Ever since you were young I could see this spark in you that made me feel like you could bring new and big things into this business to make it thrive even more than it already is. I believe in you, I love you, and I'm proud of you. To Dean,” My dad said, raising his glass up. Everyone followed and touched glasses together, repeating him. I gave a small smile and tipped my glass back, quickly swallowing the whiskey. 

If I was gonna deal with my dad and grandpa’s phony “I’m so proud of you and I love you, you’re gonna do great things” bullshit all day then I was gonna need to get really fucking drunk.

I poured myself another glass and chugged it down before going outside to light a cigarette. I took a long drag and blew it out with a heavy sigh.

“Those things will kill you, you know,” My father’s voice came from behind me as he was lighting up one.

I stared at him completely dumbfounded, “and yet you’re smoking one right now,” I take another drag and start kicking the gravel in the driveway to distract myself from twhatever bullshit was about to spew from my father’s mouth.

He watches me as he sits on the stairs to the front door, “Dean, I hope you know what you’re getting into it cause to me it just seems like you don’t or that you just don’t give a fuck. I need you to give a fuck Dean.”

I chuckle and turn to him, throwing my cigarette on the ground, “Don’t try and tell me what you think. You don’t know me and you never tried to know me. You never tried to be a father, I had to raise myself. You fucked and then fired every fucking nanny I had but with the short time they were here, they knew more about me than you ever had.” I clenched my jaw and walked closer to him with my fists clenched.

He looked up at me and grinned, “You gonna hit me? Go ahead.” He blew a puff a smoke up into my face and waited.

There’s only been a few times in my life that I’ve hit my father and the consequence? He’d beat the absolute shit out of me and scream about how much of a disrespectful, useless asshole I was. The first time he did that I was 15 years old. 

Like I said before, father of the fucking century.

My father stood up and sighed, closing the distance between us, “You lack honor for this family. That’s how I know you won’t succeed unless you straighten the fuck up.”

I could feel my face getting hot and my fists were shaking, “Honor? Where the fuck was your honor for your wife? Where the fuck was your honor for my FUCKING MOTHER?” I screamed in his face. 

I could never cry over her. I couldn’t feel sadness, just complete anger. I never actually cried over anything, I could never feel so sad, happy, or angry over something that I just cried. My only release was the feeling of pulling the trigger, drinking or fighting. 

“Are you done?” My father asked as if he was talking to a small child that was throwing a temper tantrum. 

I shook my head, backing away from him and turned around so I didn’t have to look at that stupid grin he always had when I backed down.

“Your grandfather and I have some things we need to take care of tomorrow, you’re gonna come with us,” He stated as he walked back up the stairs.

“Oh, and Happy Birthday son,” he called out as he went back inside.

All the rage I felt was still there. I was sweating, short of breath and my hands continued to shake.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” I yelled out, facing my house hoping the pricks in there could hear me.

I knew my outbursts weren’t doing anything but I needed to give them something. They knew I had a temper that made me act out and I continued to act out and have a shitty attitude.

I needed something to distract them with. While they try to fix me and make me the “honorable” men that they were, I was going to take everything from them and then blow their fucking brains out.

____________

read chapter 2

#dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman imagine #dean charles chapman fanfiction #dean charles chapman au #mob!dean #dean-charles chapman