#AND HE ROTATED MY PRONOUNS AFTER I ASKED

[sumamitt]

emotionally i am cat gently stepping into the lap of my new psychiatrist (he's so cool)

[cultofdixon]

Within Your Warmth

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Y/N finally found a place to sleep and Daryl was going to hit anybody that disturbs her • SFW • TW: Sleep Deprivation

Requested by: Anon

“You coming to the bonfire Rick has going on later?” Rosita asks Y/N while she was in the middle of her fifth task of the day, pantry restock.

“Yeah, if I’m not too exhausted”

“Well there will be alcohol. The new dude Greyson found a case of beers on his run the other day with Eugene.” Rosita hopped up on the only stool in the pantry watching her best friend work. “Even Eugene found a good scotch”

“Now that’s what I’m here for” Y/N laughs lightly finishing the canned goods and about to start putting away the new jarred stuff from Oceanside. “Do you know if Daryl is gonna be there?”

Y/N could sense the smirk on her face resulting in a groan as Rosita quickly popped off the stool bringing herself up behind her bestie.

“The Daryl Dixon? The one you’ve been crushing on since longer before I came along?”

“Yes. That Daryl Dixon”

“So…if Daryl were to come then you’d for sure come?”

“I guess—“ and with that Rosita left the pantry, leaving a confused Y/N to continue doing what she was doing before heading onto the next task.

The bonfire was happening at Alexandria. They rotate through the communities every couple days to keep the connection between their families…even if Maggie doesn’t want to step foot in Alexandria as long as he lives. Daryl was currently residing in the Sanctuary after being tasked to keep an eye on the community which felt more like a punishment and only two people understood that. Carol and Y/N. When Rosita left to find him, she half expected him to be inside yelling at someone. Instead he was working on the gardening plots with a green thumb from the Kingdom and a few Saviors that turned for good.

“Dixon” Rosita brought on her tough exterior when talking to the man in hopes that her asks would be given a positive answer. “I have to ask you something”

“If it’s about the bonfire bullshit, I’m going”

“It’s about——“ Rosita paused, relaxing her shoulders. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Rick asked, so did Aaron. You just missed them” Daryl handed the hoe off to one of the Saviors so he could get close to Rosita. “Why are you askin’?”

“It’s more so trying to get another to go tonight.”

“Huh?”

“Y/N said she’d go if you do…so does that confirm the mutual feeling that brews between the two of you?” Rosita smirks trying to get more out of the archer but he continued to have the same deadpan look from before. Her shoulders instantly slumped and the smirk faded. “Alright, loverboy…I’ll see you tonight”

“Mhm” Daryl let out a small chuckle before returning to work while Rosita headed off.

As the night came and the bonfire was starting, Daryl leaned against the picnic table holding all the goodies they brought out scanning around the intimate event in search for Y/N. Who so happened to be the last to arrive even if she lives in the vicinity.

“Where the hell have you been?” Rosita pulled Y/N aside when she was about to make small talk with someone.

“Uh. My watch shift? I just got relieved”

“What the hell?”

“What? I wasn’t gonna halt my work load for the day to doll myself up for a man who’s probably equally as tired as I am”

“Well hate to disappoint but the man is question” Rosita gently took a hold of her chin, directing her to look at Daryl while he was in the middle of a conversation with Gabriel. “Seems to have showered and dressed nicer than usual. I wonder who it’s for”

Y/N can’t deny that Daryl did indeed look extremely well put together. Did everything they used to beg him to do when they first arrived to Alexandria.

“I’m gonna go see how he’s doing” Y/N shot a smile his way which definitely caught his attention, but when she parted from Rosita to make her way over…she got stopped by Ezekiel and couldn’t just cut her friend off.

Daryl felt his small smile falter when she got pulled away not just once, but a handful of times throughout the night. He hasn’t even seen her eat or drink anything. Y/N was very popular that night and everybody wanted to talk to her, he wanted too as well but no window opened.

Until she was sat in one of the outdoor chairs by the fire, Daryl instantly took the empty one beside her and watched her tiredly look at him.

“Sorry was this—-“

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all night…” Y/N sighs, finally relaxing and keeping her attention on him. “I miss you”

The heat instantly made itself present on the tips of his ears as he tried to fight back a smile.

“Missed yea too sunshine”

The two caught up on what the other has missed regarding their community, ending with Y/N talking about how much Rick is an idiot for having Daryl watch the Sanctuary. A few share that same thought but hers had a whole other meaning.

“You staying the night here?”

“Yeah, figured they’d survive a night without me” Daryl scoffs finishing his beer as Y/N curled up slightly in her chair to get more comfortable.

“Well…I still stay at Rick and Michonne’s. No one touched your room if you’d like to stay there”

“I was actually planning on it…”

“Good” Y/N continues to hold her smile that he will always take a mental picture of. Before she could get another word, Rick quickly cut in to ask Daryl himself about any updates for the Sanctuary.

Which lead the exhaustion to finally hit Y/N after a long day.

When his conversation ended by Rick running off to catch up with Ezekiel, Daryl was going to return to his with Y/N but noticed she fell asleep in her chair. So instead of waking her, he sat with her and made sure no one disturbed her.

Daryl shooed away people, even tossed his empty beer bottle at Aaron who tried to start a conversation (thankfully he caught it)…eventually he got up from his spot and carefully picked up Y/N bridal style which led her to stir awake enough to realize what was happening.

“Oh…”

“You’re alright, imma take yea home”

“Okay, long day” Y/N mumbles resting her head against his chest closing her eyes once more.

On the way to the Grimes residence, Rosita and Michonne went up to make sure Y/N was okay but Daryl quickly gave them a look to back off gently. Nothing was wrong. Thankfully they both understood.

“Who woulda thought it took having Y/N do a lot of shit today to have this tonight” Michonne stated, taking a sip of her scotch as Rosita choked on her beer.

“You’re also trying to get them together?”

“Please. I’ve been trying since our prison days. At least she can finally rest easy tonight…it’s been hard for her with Daryl at the Sanctuary”

“I bet…” Rosita continued to watch the two walk off before leaning close to Michonne with a smirk. “What’d yea win in the bet with Carol?”

“Three night shifts for the bridge camp”

“Nice”

Once they got inside the house and upstairs to Y/N’s room, Daryl gently laid her in the bed before grabbing a blanket draping it over her carefully. What he least expected, Y/N gently took his wrist tugging him back to the bed as he caught the hint or so he thought by bringing him low enough for her to wrap his arms around him.

“Lay with me…”

“Are you su—-“

“I’ve missed you so much Daryl, I’m not letting go of you that easily”

The archer didn’t wait another moment and quickly kicked off his shoes before climbing into the bed laying on top of her. Y/N let him adjust to where his head rested comfortably on her chest letting her run her fingers through his hair.

A satisfied sigh left Daryl’s lips holding her as she held him in a way where she wasn’t going to let go easily.

And he’s thankful for that

[dinogoofymutated]

im 100% new to x-men(i grew up in a DC family lol) but I am just. SO down bad for remy. idk how to write requests or anything, but can I ask for headcanons for him with a touchstarved fem reader? sfw or nsfw, both, idc really he's just rotating in my brain, gambit my beloved

Gambit/GN!reader

Dude I completely get it!! I was a HUGE x-men fan as a kid and as I grew up the hyperfixation fell into the back of my mind. I too grew up mostly on DC and I feel like the reason DC became my go-to was because there's just not a ton of fanfiction for the x-men, reader inserts in particular. I'm working on fixing that! But my full-length fics are a little hard to finish/start. Anyway- Remy is definitely one of the top #3 x-men to be down bad for lol!

TWs: none that I can think of atm. Mostly fluffy goodness! Written picturing a fem! Reader but no pronouns mentioned

I definitely think that it's not a completely ridiculous idea that one of Remy's love languages could be touch, despite how his relationship with Rogue revolves around the absence of touch!

Tbh, I feel like he's just respectful of his partner's wants and needs in a relationship, and if touching and cuddling is a no-go he's perfectly fine with backing off and showing his love in other ways!

BUT! when you give him the go-ahead, he's all over you. Hugs, cuddles, kisses, PDA, all of it!

One of his favorite things to do is catch you in the kitchen, coming up behind you and snaking his hands around your waist. He'll press his face into your hair and neck, sometimes giving you kisses, but really he just does it because he wants to feel you against him.

I think he secretly enjoys how easy it is to get you melting in his embrace. He goes out of his way to fluster you, flirting until you go red, then pulls you close. He'll nuzzle you affectionately, kiss your temple and cheeks, hold you lovingly until he feels all the tension leave your body. He especially likes when you lean into his hands when he holds your face. He knows just how much you love him, and he's determined to show you all the love he knows you deserve.

    “Cher.” Remy’s chest rumbles with the words. You only respond with a hum, tucked into his side comfortably. The afternoon had started with a movie, originally. The two of you had some free time, and Gambit had a movie he really wanted to watch, so movie night it was. You were watching at first, you promise you were, but it was easy to get distracted by Remy. When the movie started, you were sitting next to him, leaning into his side with a bowl of popcorn in your lap, but that position could only be comfortable for so long. You were squirming, trying to relax as best you could, but after 45 minutes of sitting on this couch, it was like every bump and corner on the sofa was digging into you.

    Remy, being the observant sweetheart he is, didn’t hesitate to scoop you up into his lap. You squealed at first, surprised by the action, but Remy simply laughed at you, leaning back to lay down on the couch with you against his chest. Unsurprisingly, this was much more comfortable. Maybe a little too comfortable, as it didn’t take long for you to stop paying attention to the TV entirely. You snuggled closer to Remy as you started to doze off. One of his hands rested against your lower back, his other hand cupping the back of your neck, caressing and threading his fingers through his hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep against him.

    “Cheerrr.” Remy says again, drawing the words out. “Movie’s been over f’ a while.” You pout at him, sighing sleepily as you tuck your face into his neck. He chuckles again, thumbs caressing your skin idly.

    “You don’t wanna cuddle anymore?” You ask, maybe a little bit more sad than you should be, or would’ve been if you were more awake.

    “Now Gambit didn’t say that.” Remy purrs. You whine again as he moves a little, adjusting a little so that he can press a kiss to your temple. You reluctantly untuck yourself from his neck, rewarded with a sweet kiss from Remy. The action makes you smile. He’s looking at you with such love and adoration, like no one has looked at you before, and it has you feeling loved beyond measure. You lean into his touch as he cups your face, holding his hand to your cheek to keep him there.

    Content couldn’t begin to explain how you felt in this moment.

[idksmtms]

no body, no crime (Daemon Targaryen x Niece!reader) - evermore series

evermore series

A/N: 2 fics in one day?? Am I trying to make up for the month I was away?? (yes, yes I am...)

I feel like I only write Niece!reader with Daemon because he is the perfect hot incesty uncle on HoTD and why would I want to change that?? 

Summary: When Rhea Royce is found dead in a riding accident in the Vale and Daemon returns to King's Landing, you wonder if it is all because of you… 

Word count: ~3k 

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, kinda scary Daemon, creepy vibes, mentions of death, suspicion of murder, kinda stalker/obsessive Daemon, era typical marriage habits, slight spoilers for HoTD S1, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You had always known that Daemon was dangerous. No person that lived in King’s Landing should think otherwise, because the ones that did often ended up a consequence of his danger. He was reckless, ruthless, impulsive. He had killed and was always ready to kill again. You knew of the proverb the common folk often quoted, “Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. When a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin in the air, and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.” You often wonder which side the coin has landed on Daemon, whether it has even landed yet or you are merely witnessing a point in time when the face with madness is tilted up to the earth as it rotates through the air. 

You had always been intrigued by your uncle, by his harsh manner and sultry tongue, by his ruthless quest for power and his weakness for women. As a second daughter, you had much more idle time than Rhaenyra ever did, and you often used it to skulk about the Red Keep and spy on the doings of others. You had grown an early infatuation with watching Daemon in the training yard, or simply following him as he made his way around the Keep. 

Of course at that age you had thought yourself a master of secrets, one with the shadows, and you hadn’t noticed the little smile that always graced his lips when he noticed you following him, or that he took extra long, winding, paths to reach his destination. 

Then Daemon had defied your father and gone to fight the war in the Stepstones, and that had been the end of that. In the long while Daemon had been gone, the realities of womanhood had raised you quickly. You were burdened by responsibilities, by the slowly growing urgency of finding you a suitor. You were so changed that when Daemon returned victorious and supplicant, he almost did not recognise the woman you had become. 

It was now him who was found trailing you, watching you when he could and forcing his company onto you. It was now he who was infatuated with you, and while you would have enjoyed the attention once, would have revelled in it and preened girlishly, you had also become aware of the realities of men, and particularly Daemon in the time he had been gone. You had become aware of his violent tendencies, his gallivanting habits, and most of all, his marriage. 

His hatred of Rhea Royce was famous throughout the land, he had made it clear to any passerby, but you still valued the sanctity of marriage and would not take any part in helping him defile it. 

“Would you care to accompany me on a stroll through the gardens, darling niece?” He asked one day after finding you perusing scrolls on Targaryen history in the library. You had jumped at the sound of his voice, looking at him warily as he seemed to appear out of the shadows. His dark eyes scared you. 

“Unchaperoned? That would not be wise uncle,” you had mumbled, turning back to the tome placed on the table before you. 

“You are my niece, why would a chaperone be required?” He asked as if you had posed a ludicrous concern and you frowned at him again. 

“Yes, but we are also Targaryens,” and while you had believed that to be the end of the conversation, Daemon had simply scoffed and forcibly threaded your arm through his and walked you out of the room. 

You couldn’t deny that the walk had been pleasant. He could be funny when he wanted, and he was immensely clever despite his impatience and brutish behaviour, and you had found your hands gripping him voluntarily, found yourself enjoying the feeling of his firm muscles under your fingertips. But you also couldn’t deny that there was something that always had you on edge. There was an underlying violence, a darkness that always lingered around him, and you knew that you could never trust that you were fully safe in his company despite no obvious threat. 

More walks were posed in the coming days that you happily agreed to, and enjoyed all the more. You could physically feel his charms working, at the gentle way he caressed the back of your hand when he was lost in thought while listening to you speak. Or the way he gazed directly into your eyes when he spoke, his gaze never once wavering. And he had a certain affinity for presenting you with gifts. The first was still your most cherished, a necklace with a pendant of Valyrian steel shaped in the sigil of house Targaryen. You often felt equal parts scared, excited, and happy in his presence. 

When it was decided that Rhaenyra was to tour the realm to find a suitor, your father decided that it would be best for you to accompany her and try to find a suitor of your own. Of course Rhaenyra would have first pick, but you could choose from the others and it would be best to be done with the complications for both princesses all together. While you weren’t particularly looking forward to the prospect, you were content in the knowledge that you would be allowed to pick your own husband, a luxury you were highly aware few were afforded in the realm. 

A fortnight before you were due to leave, in the late evening when the Keep was lit only by torches and candles, Daemon cornered you in the library. Your space was lit only by a few candles scattered around the table you were sitting at, and when you noticed him lingering at the edges of the light, you jumped out of your seat, ready to scream for help. Your heart beat out of your chest, your entire body was clenched and you wanted to run, but then he stepped into the light and you felt yourself unfurl in your seat. Relief was like a wash of cold water and you began to giggle, hand pressed to your chest as you gulped air in like you had never tasted it before. 

“It’s just you,” you breathed out, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them and refocusing your gaze on Daemon now that he had stepped closer to you. He walked over and kneeled down in front of your seat. 

“Do not leave on this tour,” he said it firmly, almost desperately, but you could only frown at him in confusion. 

“I- what do you mean, kepus?” You clasped your hands in your lap, fidgeting a little with your index finger. He quickly wrapped his own hands around them, gripping them tightly as he looked at you. 

“I mean that you should abandon this worthless search for a suitor, and marry me instead.” You let out an incredulous laugh but found nothing funny about the situation. You pried your hands out of his grip and quickly stood up, stepping back from where he stayed kneeling in front of you. Not for the first time did you realise how tall and strong his body was that you were not much of an intimidating presence even while he kneeled at your feet. 

“You cannot be serious, kepus,” you mumbled. 

“What makes you think I am in jest?” He asked, and you could see no humour in any part of him. He looked hewn from stone. 

“Because you are married, Daemon! By the gods, how do you forget this each and every day of your life?!” Your body felt like it was overflowing with panic and hysteria. “You are married, and have been married for a long while. Just because you leave Rhea Royce in the Vale does not change that fact. It is sacrilege for you to even suggest marrying me while she lives happily and healthily.” The sudden pin prick of tears caught you by surprise, and you wiped at your cheek before they had even fallen. 

Daemon stood from where he had kneeled and stepped closer to you. When you began to back away, he followed, and only when your back was pressed to the wall and you could move no further did he stop. He refrained from pressing his entire body to yours but his face was so close that your noses brushed and his eyes had blurred into a slash of black. 

“Is my sham of a marriage the only reason you deny me?” He asked, low and whispery, his voice a snake slithering up your arms and legs. You gulped, the urge to run like a raging storm inside of you. “Answer me.” 

“Yes.” You said it so quickly you weren’t sure you spoke it for a second, but once it left your mouth, you knew it to be true. If he was not married you would say yes. If he was not married you could actually see yourself loving him. But it was simply not to be. 

He stood there and stared at you so long that you wondered if this was your end. Were you about to die at the hands of your uncle? You began closing your eyes, readying yourself for the inevitable when he pressed his lips to your cheek in a chaste kiss then pulled away and walked out of the library. You opened your eyes and nothing was amiss. It was almost as if he hadn’t ever been there and you had stood from the chair and pressed yourself to the wall of your own volition. 

You stood there for a few minutes more, just waiting for something to happen, for Daemon to return or the Stranger to come and guide you to the next life. But the world had returned to the stillness it inhabited in the hour of the ghosts. 

The tour had been unsuccessful for Rhaenyra, but ultimately it had been unsuccessful for you too. You could not marry before Rhaenyra, but after meeting the men on the tour, you didn’t want to marry any of them anyway. They were all either young, immature, boys who didn’t know their right from their left, or men as old as your father, backs already curling over their walking sticks and servants already wiping dribbled wine from their chins. 

In the days after your return to King's Landing, you had discovered Daemon’s sudden disappearance with Caraxes and it had left you in a certain dowerness. You had already spent so long at sea with little to no entertaining company, and you had looked forward to returning to your walks with your uncle. It seemed not to be. 

But soon enough you were whisked away to Driftmark to secure Rhaenyra’s betrothal, and despite being rather annoyed that you were forced to join this journey, you ended up glad for it. Laena Velaryon, close to you in age, swiftly became a favoured companion of yours. She was strong but kind, fun but sensible, and you found yourself excitedly seeking her company in the time you spent at Driftmark before the betrothal was finalised and you all began making your way back to King’s Landing. 

While you were happy for Rhaenyra, happy that she found someone she could spend the rest of her life with in Laenor, you began to worry once more for your own prospects. Who would you choose? Or worse, who would be chosen for you? But all these worries were put to the side upon discovering the news that awaited you on your return to the Red Keep. 

Rhea Royce was dead. Mourning bells had rung through the Vale upon the discovery of her crushed body under her horse. But all you could think about was the determination in Daemon��s eyes that evening in the library. All you could think of was the question he had asked, the harsh whisper and the quick exit. Where was he? 

With each day that passed, your nerves grew. Your mind was plagued with the thoughts that this was all Daemon’s doing, a desperate attempt to end his marriage so he would be free to love you openly. And with every day that he did not return, your heart grew more fearful that your suspicion was correct. 

There had only been one letter from him, sent from some unknown location, claiming a grief over the tragic accident that befell his wife, and nothing more… 

On the day of Rhaenyra’s wedding, you had almost spilled your goblet of wine down your dress when he had entered the hall. He looked clean and fresh, as put together as ever, and something inside you turned cold at the smirk he wore as he sauntered down the aisle and waited for a chair to be placed for him at the table just to your right. 

Laena, blessed Laena, sitting directly to your right was your rock. You had requested that she have her place at the head table with you, and now you were more thankful than ever that you had requested the placement. 

“So,” she whispered right in your ear, “what killed her then?” You jumped, turning to Laena with wide eyes and shaking hands. 

“What? What do you mean?” If others didn’t know any better, it would surely be assumed that you were somehow guilty for the death. 

“Well, you said so yourself, Daemon is claiming he simply heard the news of her death and that he believes it was a tragic accident, but the Royces believe he had something to do with it, that Rhea was too good a rider for it to have happened the way it looked. What do you believe?” 

You said nothing, let Laena get bored of your silence and move on to other topics and judgements of the people in the hall. But when she stood from her seat to go greet her family members on one of the lower tables, it took everything within you not to cling to her skirts like a child and beg her to take you with her. 

As soon as she left you sitting there, your eyes were pulled to Daemon like some magical force controlled your actions. You couldn’t stop watching him, lips almost shaking, and he watched you in return, jovial to an almost sadistic degree. Just as he was about to reach for your hand on the table, a man walked up and stood just in front of him, glaring so viciously that you bristled. Daemon didn’t even bother glancing in his direction until he cleared his throat aggressively. 

“Yes?” He asked, frowning in confusion and annoyance in the man’s direction. “Who are you?” 

“Sir Gerold.” When Daemon continued to look at him like he was some random fool, you could almost see the smoke pouring from the man’s ears. “I am Sir Gerold Royce. I am cousin to your late lady wife.” Your eyes widened as you looked upon the man, pressing yourself back into the seat warily as Daemon seemed to relax further into his, leaning back, palms pressed to the table, and a look of clarity dawning across his face. 

“Aah, yes, terrible thing, I’m positively bereft, such a tragic accident.” His lack of expression was almost comical. If you hadn’t been so terrified of the situation you were sure you would have laughed uproariously at the fake grief Daemon so easily wove to further antagonise the Royce man. The man’s jaw looked close to cracking at how harshly he clenched his teeth together. 

“You know better than anyone it was no accident.”

“Are you confessing some guilt, Sir Gerold?” He asked, and you could see that Daemon was enjoying the interaction immensely. He had that mischievous glint in his eye, that subtle quirk to his lip that gave him such a self-superior air and made him ten times more dislikable than he already was. 

“I am making an accusation.” And there it was, out in the open now for all to see, the uncomfortable suspicion that had bounced around everyone’s mind since the news of Rhea Royce’s tragic passing had spread. 

Daemon said nothing, simply continued staring at Gerold Royce with those black eyes of his that made the world feel small and harsh. Ser Lyonel was listening on your left, and you wanted to melt into the wood of your chair, never to be seen again. The air was thick and painful and watching Daemon quickly deposit the man with no thought to the grief he was going through, you leapt out of your chair and scurried out of the hall, ignoring the footsteps that chased after you. 

You weren’t quite sure where you were going, just that you had to leave that situation and were now fruitlessly attempting to outrun the thoughts that chased you so relentlessly. Your breaths were shallow and painful, your hands felt full of blood, heavy and swollen, and you couldn’t quite see where you were going through the panic. 

Your trusty feet led you to the library and you only stopped once you were inside and at the table you usually chose to sit at. As the breath began to return to you, so did the awareness that you were not alone. You whirled around to find Daemon turning the corner with his long strides. He paused just at the edge of the little area you occupied and watched you with a calculating gaze. 

“Did you do it, Daemon? Did you kill your wife for this?” You asked hurriedly, voice hushed and lips stumbling over one another as you spoke. Your pulse was thrumming in your ears, and while you were all fidgeting and pacing, Daemon stood still and stoic, as immovable as a wall. When you paused to look at him, chewing on your lip as you frowned the longer he made you wait for an answer, he stood to his full height before leaning down so his face was pressed as close to yours without actually kissing you. 

“I would do anything for us,” and his voice was a dark whisper, a promise…

[dirtyvulture]

Peeping Jeff

Natasha Romanoff x Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You and Natasha have some fun when an uninvited guest stops by.

Word count: 2095

AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

No land sharks were harmed in the writing of this fic.

“Eyes on me,” Natasha says.

“Yes, ma’am,” you say, as if you’ll dare disobey her. Not when she’s dressed in the thinnest pair of black lingerie she owns and is currently rotating slowly around the stripper pole she had installed in the bedroom almost a month ago. It was probably the best investment the two of you ever made, and even Tony had to comment on its usefulness when he brought the contractors in.

You settle back in the bed, ready for your private show. You’re only wearing your boxers now and the bulge between your legs continues to tent as Natasha scales up the pole almost to the ceiling. She wraps her legs around it, wedging it in the crook of her knee to hold her weight while she lets go with her arms, leaning back until her hair cascades in a fiery red wave. 

“Don’t touch yourself,” Natasha warns when she sees your hand moving towards your own crotch. You can’t always help yourself; seeing your girlfriend like this demands an attention that she is too far away to provide. You sigh in frustration, but force your hands back to your sides.

Natasha slides down the pole a few feet, tilting back until her head is lower than the rest of her body. Your eyes focus on her perfect breasts ready to spill out of their delicate cage and how perfectly they press together when she moves. 

She suddenly releases her hold on the pole with her legs and she drops to the floor.

“Nat!” you cry, almost jumping off the bed until you see that she’s stopped herself just in time, now hovering inches off the floor. 

“I’m fine,” she snips, almost like she’s upset you thought she had so little strength and would hurt herself.

“Okay, okay.”

As Natasha continues her performance, neither of you notice that it’s now become a public showing when two dark beady eyes look through the crack of the bedroom door that you’ve accidentally left slightly ajar. The eyes widen when they see Natasha and the silver, shiny pole. But after a few moments, they are distracted by the rumbling in their belly and continue padding down the hall to the kitchen. 

By the time Natasha is off the pole and sauntering over to you, you’ve given up all restraint and are jerking yourself off in your boxers, stopping only when she climbs on top of you and grinds down on your crotch.

“Did you like my show?” Natasha asks, but it’s a pointless question.

“I loved it, baby,” you pant, tilting your head up desperately for a kiss. You don’t even notice she’s pulled your boxers off and her own panties until you suddenly feel her wetness brush against your cock. “Oh fuck, Nat.”

She sinks down without warning, enveloping you in perfect, silky heat. You buck up instinctively, trying to fit your entire length into her, the ache of arousal in the pit of your stomach slightly soothed as she surrounds you. 

Natasha locks her hands around your neck to steady yourself as you thrust into her. You press your face into her chest, inhaling the scent of her skin and wrapping your arms around her back to keep her close to you.

“Right there, baby,” she moans as you jack your hips up until they slap against hers. “Keep going, keep going.”

“You’re always so tight around me,” you grunt, twitching at the sound of your slick cock sliding in and out of her. “You’re so perfect, Nat. Every part of you.”

She hums in agreement, bouncing on your cock and causing the whole bed frame to shake. 

You hadn’t realized how turned on Natasha was over her own performance until her walls clamp around you, almost preventing you from pulling out, and her wetness dripping down your cock. You thrust up in one final, rough move, emptying yourself into her, your hips raised off the bed until your thighs are trembling from the effort before you collapse back down and Natasha rests on top of you. 

The two of you stay like that for a long time, until your alarm goes off, alerting you that you have to get ready for the next event.

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

“I swear, we go to one of these a week,” Natasha says, snagging a martini from one of the passing waiters. She clinks it against your cocktail glass and the both of you take a sip in solidarity.

“You know Tony. Any excuse he has to party, he’ll put one on,” you respond, turning with her to face the crowd of people swaying on the dance floor. You swear you’ve never seen the same person twice at these parties and sometimes wonder if Tony just puts up a flier on the Internet advertising there’s a party at the Avengers Tower. It would explain the amount of times you’ve been asked to take pictures or sign autographs. 

“You tired?” you ask Natasha as she sighs and leans against your arm. 

“Not any more than usual.” You know she’s not a fan of these gatherings any more than you are.

“We can go soon,” you offer.

“It’s okay,” she says.

The two of you sit at the bar and try to avoid any other interactions. You bob your head absently to the beat of the music as Natasha drinks another martini. Bruce comes over, trying to strike up a conversation with Natasha as you glare at him with your arm looped firmly around her waist. 

“Tony said he had a surprise for tonight,” Bruce says. 

“Is it going to happen anytime soon? It’s almost our bed time,” Natasha yawns.

As if on cue, the music suddenly stops and the lights flash on to their full power. The crowd on the dance floor murmurs their annoyance as Tony appears on the DJ’s stage.

“Thank you to everyone who came out tonight!” he says. “I know I host a lot of these, and I’m always trying new things to keep them interesting. Behold, my latest addition to the Stark party experience!”

Tony holds his hands up, and the spotlights direct to a panel on the ceiling that slides back. Something silver and shiny pokes down, slowly revealing itself to be a singular, metal pole. It takes a second for it to click what it is. 

“Oh God,” Natasha says, shaking her head.

“Is that a stripper pole?” Bruce asks.

“Yep,” you answer. “I wonder if he got the idea from the one we had installed in our room–”

Bruce turns on you incredulously. “Wait, you have a–”

“Who wants to give it a try?” Tony asks as the lights dim, all focus on the shiny silver pole now. No one in the crowd moves at first. 

“I will give it a go!” a deep voice booms and Thor comes forward as people begin cheering and clapping for him.

“Oh, this will be good,” Natasha comments. You move closer to get a better view of your co-worker as he steps up to the pole, sizing it up for a few seconds before grabbing onto it firmly. Women start cheering as Thor hesitantly swings himself around the pole, as if he doesn’t trust such a flimsy object to support him, but with the encouragement of the crowd, he gains some confidence and starts to dance as if the pole is his partner.

“Only Tony could come up with something like this,” you say, impressed at how flexible the god of thunder is.  

“This is definitely going online,” Bruce notes, counting the number of cellphones people have out to capture the moment.

“You want to give it a try, Nat?” you tease.

“Nope. Because that’s a show for you only,” she says, pressing against you to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“All right, all right, give it up for the god of thunder!” Tony says, gesturing for Thor to leave center stage as the crowd of women swarm him from your view. “Who’s up next?” His eyes sweep across the room, searching for another victim. You accidentally make eye contact with him and your heart drops as he points to you. “Come on over, Y/N–” 

“Mrrrr.” 

You pause mid-step as everyone hears the same noise echo in the room. It’s one you’re more than familiar with, but you aren’t quite sure it’s the right one you’ve heard until you see Jeff the land shark, in his one-foot tall glory, waddling towards center stage.

Murmurs carry around as the little shark approaches the silver pole and gives it a few sniffs.

“Is that Jeff?”

“What is he doing here?”

“Is he even old enough to be here?”

“Mrrrr!” he huffs indignantly at that last comment. When you pause to think about it, you aren’t really sure what Jeff’s age is. While he is a great deal smaller than his terrifying, fully-grown counterparts, rumor had it that Jeff aged just the same but simply did not outgrow his smaller form. So for all you knew, he was perfectly of age to be at a Tony Stark party.

“Give it up for Jeff the land shark!” Tony exclaims, increasing the volume of the music. 

“Go, Jeff!” you shout and Natasha smacks your shoulder. “Ow, what was that for?”

“Do not encourage him! He’s just a baby and probably shouldn’t even be here–”

“We don’t know that for sure,” you defend.  

“Watch him be better than Thor,” Bruce says.

Jeff stands on his hind legs to inspect the pole; you wonder if he has the grip strength to lift himself up. Natasha had lectured you on the difficulties of her new hobby, even offering you the opportunity to try it yourself, and while you were plenty strong, you had no flexibility or grace, thus resulting in a less-than-stellar show for her. 

However, Jeff is already showing you up as he clutches onto the pole tightly with his fingers, pushing off the ground with his back feet and using his momentum to swing around the pole with his round body.

People scream and cheer at his first attempt. He steadies himself, carefully inching up the pole until he is at a height where everyone in the room could see him. He tilts his head back as he spins around the pole again, almost like he’s in slow-motion. You had no idea a land shark could be this graceful or fluid. 

Everyone is entranced by his performance, as Jeff flaps his tail to propel himself faster around the pole. He dips back until he’s almost upside-down, before he lessens his grip on the pole just enough to come sliding down at a speed that drops your heart, but he stops before his head touches the floor. 

The applause is raucous.  

“Isn’t that what I did last night?” Natasha says suddenly, but you’re too enthralled to respond. 

“He’s better than you, Nat,” you tease with a nudge. Jeff climbs up the pole again, then clamps his jaws around it, swinging his round body out in a move you can only describe as being the land shark version of a human flag–one of the most difficult calisthenic exercises you’ve ever tried to learn. But whereas it took you months of intensive training to achieve a human flag for even 5 seconds, Jeff seems to have flawless core strength as he holds his body out, perfectly perpendicular to the floor. 

“YEAH, JEFF!” you scream, scaring Natasha. You’re probably one of the few people here who truly understand the difficulties of the exercise, and you want to make sure Jeff’s feat is appropriately appreciated.  

Jeff takes the pole in his hands again, twirling around it while pausing in several positions with his legs split or kicked out. He mimes walking on air for a few seconds during his descent and if the crowd hadn’t been loud already, you’re pretty sure they’re going to shatter the windows. Jeff lands safely on the floor, bounding up and bowing as people take pictures and continue to cheer. 

“I wonder where he learned how to do that,” Bruce says, clapping his hands.

“Yes,” Natasha agrees, a strange realization dawning on her but she’s too embarrassed to say it out loud. She will have to make sure the bedroom door is properly closed and locked from now on. “I wonder…”  

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Special thanks to @nameforthemain for this beautiful sketch that inspired this fic!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[puck-luck]

just visiting | trevor zegras

warnings: one (1!) use of "y/n", semi-public sex, hair pulling, unprotected p on v sex (& creampie), fingering, use of pet names (baby <3), praise, slightly? dom!trevor, cussing (<3), light spanking, uhhh eating come i guess? underuse of the name Trevor and overuse of the pronoun "he" as i am known to do in my writing. pairing: trevor zegras x fem!reader summary: the one when reader meets trevor zegras in a bar and has a satisfying one night stand with him in the bathroom <3 wc: 2,554

You’d been dancing with a rotating door of men all night, but your eyes had stayed fixed on one man. He’s sitting at the end of the bar opposite of the dancing floor. In the time since you’d caught his eye, you’d seen him down two beers. He drank them so slow, so lazily that you thought he might’ve been doing it just so you could see the way his lips wrapped around the bottle. He’d come with friends, but they’d all left him a while ago. At this point, it’s well past 2am and you were still waiting for him to get the balls to come over to you. The men who danced with you all thought they had a chance, but you knew and this man at the bar knew that at the end of the night, it would be you two, in a bed, all over each others’ bodies.

The man behind you now is certainly feeling the effects of your rolling hips. His attraction to you is pressing against the small of your back and his hands clutch at your hips, bunching the fabric of your dress. The hem of the dress, a sexy little red number that you only wear when you want to pull someone, is riding up more than you are wholly comfortable with, but the exposed skin has drawn the eye of the man at the bar. In the low light, you can’t tell what color they are, but you know that they’re shining with a challenge. He likes what he sees, but here he is, waiting for the chase. You pointedly roll your eyes at him and turn around to face the guy you’re already with. You’ll make do with what you already have. The guy at the bar isn’t going anywhere.

The guy you’re dancing with is cute, but not turn-your-head cute. He’s got some height on you, just enough that you have to lean up on your tiptoes to rest your arms on his shoulders. He’s got a five o’clock shadow of a beard that rubs nicely against your jaw when he leans down to whisper an invitation back to his place in your ear, but before you can answer, two new hands round your waist and pull you away from him.

“Sorry, but she’s already spoken for,” says the voice from behind you. You glance behind you to find the man from the bar, and you have to choke back a grin. 

The man you were dancing with looks confused for a second, but drops the issue with a raise of his hands. “Sorry, man. Didn’t know.” He walks off, probably in search of a new target for the night. There are only so many people left, considering the bar closes at 4 and it’s nearly 3.

“Finally,” you sigh, reaching up to lace your fingers in the man’s hair. He makes it easier for you, coming down to give the curve of your neck a ghost of a kiss. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” he repeats, but it sounds like he’s got a smile on his lips. “Wasn’t sure if you were ready for me.”

“Been ready for you.” You turn towards him and take his hand, guiding it down between your legs so he can steal a touch. You pull it back after just one pass and he groans. 

He leans into your space and captures your lips with his. His tongue traces your bottom lip after only a moment and you open, letting him in. He invades your mouth with his tongue and it’s hot, and passionate, and says everything that you need to know better than he could have put it into words. You break apart and he presses his hips into yours, sneaking one of his hands up to graze over the swell of your breasts. “Bathroom?” He asks.

“Not your place?” You reply.

“I’m visiting,” he says. “And I’m sharing a hotel room with someone.”

You hum, thinking about your options. He’s hot and you’ve been playing this game all night, waiting for this moment. Any of the other guys would have sufficed, but you knew from the first moment you locked eyes with this guy that he would make this a night to remember. Your place wasn’t far, but you tried not to go back to your apartment with strange men, especially since you live alone and your apartment building isn’t the securest– something you learned from an experience with the last guy you brought home… who couldn’t quite understand that it was a one-and-done thing. If this guy wasn’t willing to take you back to his hotel room and kick his roommate out, the bathroom might just be your only option.

“Bathroom works,” you agree and take his hand. You lead him through the crowd of people. You reach the bathroom and knock on the door of the single-stall one, hoping that there’s no one in it. When you don’t hear anything, you test the handle, and it swings open easily. You let out the breath you were holding and smile to yourself, dragging this guy in behind you. He turns you so your back is against the door and traps you there, reaching around to press the lock. He leans down and kisses you again, licking into your mouth right off the bat.

“I’m Trevor,” he says between kisses. 

“Cute,” you reply, sounding a little breathless already. “I’m Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you.” His hands find their way to the back of your thighs and he lifts you up. You let out an embarrassing squeal out of surprise and automatically wrap your legs around his waist. He chuckles against your lips at your reaction. Still kissing you, he carries you over to the sink and sets you down. Trevor’s deft fingers trace their way to your pussy from your thighs and rub you deliciously.

You let out a breathy moan as he applies just the right amount of pressure to your clit with his thumb before taking it away. He rubs his knuckle up and down your panty-covered folds. “So wet already?” He teases, sounding proud of himself. “All we did was kiss a little.” 

You slide your fingers through his hair and grab on, pulling him back in so your lips reconnect. “I bet you’re no better,” you reply. You mirror his actions, reaching your hand down to feel him. He’s hard, just like you expected, but you didn’t expect him to feel so big. You make a content noise as you continue to palm him through his pants, imagining him inside you.

“Found something you like?” He asks, rolling his hips into your hand as he moves your panties to the side and swipes a finger through your wetness. “I did.” He brings the finger up to his mouth and sucks your juices off of it. “Hmm. Sweet.”

You sigh at his comment and your hands fumble with the zipper on his jeans. He reaches down to help you out, sliding the zipper down himself after batting your hands away. He pushes his pants and boxers down just enough to reveal himself to you. “Trevor,” you breathe out when you catch sight of his cock. It’s pretty and hard and it’s positively leaking. You want to put your mouth on it and go to hop down from the sink, but Trevor stops you.

“Wanna get my fingers in you first, baby,” he says. He delicately slides your panties down your legs and kisses your cheek sweetly before taking them all the way off. He stuffs them in his back pocket and gives you a wink before sliding one of his long fingers inside you. He pumps the digit in and out of you slowly, relishing in the way your walls suck him in and clench around him. 

Your fingers clutch at the bicep that’s holding you in place and moan as his finger speeds up. He adds another, curling them in a way that makes you crave him even more. You grind down on his hand, chasing the orgasm that’s building inside of you. When he starts to press sloppy kisses on your neck, it’s over. He’s leaving a hickey on your pulse point when you clench down on him and drop your head back, seeing stars with every continued curl and pump of his fingers.

“That’s it,” he soothes. “Good girl. Look so pretty coming for me, baby. Want to see it again.” 

He guides you down so your feet are touching the ground and turns you, bending you over the sink. You can see him in the mirror, brown hair messy from when you were running your fingers through it. You drink him in– the flush on his cheeks, the concentration in his eyes as he begins to rub the tip of his cock over your folds. You clench down on nothing and you smile to yourself as his pupils dilate. His eyes flicker up and meet yours in the mirror. You give him a shit-eating smile and he returns it after thrusting inside you. Your mouth drops open and his smile broadens, although you don’t get the chance to see it, considering your eyes are rolling into the back of your head as you adjust to his length.

“Oh my God,” you moan as he fucks into you, rolling his hips slowly just to tease you. You begin to push back against him, trying to meet his hips so his tip reaches that point inside you. His hand reaches up and makes a ponytail out of your hair, pulling it harshly. “Oh my God,” you repeat.

“Stop trying to fuck yourself on my cock,” Trevor admonishes. “Let me do the work, pretty girl. Let me make you feel good.” He lets go of your hair and his hand slides down to hold onto your hip, his other hand resting there already. He speeds up, bucking his hips into you hard and fast, making you shift forward with every thrust. If you thought about it too long, you’d feel the dull pain of the counter pressing against your skin, but right now, all you can focus on is the pleasure of his cock meeting your g-spot with every thrust.

“Trevor,” you whine, dropping your head and reaching down to try and get a hand on your clit. “Please,” you beg, needing just a bit more. 

He raises a hand and spanks you hard enough to leave a pink handprint. He steps back and pulls you with him, so you can reach a hand between your legs and rub furious circles on your swollen bud. Trevor soothes the handprint on your ass with a rub before bringing it down again just to watch the way your ass jiggles. His hips jump when you clench down on him after the impact and Trevor suddenly realizes just how close he is to coming.

“Fuck,” he hisses, bending over and plastering his chest against your back. He reaches around you with both hands, his right battering your hand away to rub your clit for you and his left coming up to your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 

The added stimulation sends shivers up your spine and you can’t help the noises that spill out of you.

“Close, baby?” Trevor asks, eyes boring into yours in the mirror.

“So close,” you reply. “Please, Trevor.” You’re not even sure what you’re begging for, what more he could even do for you since his cock is thrusting inside you and hitting all the right spots and his hands feel like they’re everywhere all at once. 

Trevor moans in your ear, thrusting somehow harder into you. “Been thinking about you like this all night,” he groans, then presses a kiss to your shoulderblade. “Show me again how gorgeous you look when you come, baby?”

Maybe it’s the tilt of his head and the way his eyes soften as they meet yours in the mirror, or maybe it’s the way he sounds like he’s pleading with you, like it’s a privilege to see you come undone on his cock. Maybe it’s the fact that you can feel him pulsing inside of you, his thrusts becoming more and more stuttered as he gets closer, but holds off because he wants you to reach that point first. 

No matter the reason, within a split second of Trevor asking you to show him what you look like when you come, your legs begin to shake and you can’t even manage to keep your head up as you let go. Trevor grabs your hair and lifts your head again, and you clench down on him as your vision goes white and your climax overcomes you. 

You hear a strangled moan behind you and feel him let go, painting your walls white as he releases inside you and continues to fuck you through your release. You’re breathless and when your vision returns, you think he’s beautiful behind you, eyes closed and mouth open. Your heart clenches at the sight and you wonder if, in another life, you’d have him like this every night.

“Fuck,” he whispers into the silence after you both have come down from your orgasms. 

“Yeah,” you reply, and you almost frown at the loss when he pulls out of you. You jump when he swipes a finger over your folds and collects some of the fluid that’s leaking out of you.

Trevor turns you around and brings his wet fingers to your lips, staring into your eyes with a silent question. You open your mouth as an answer and suck the come off his fingers, a mixture of both of your pleasure that almost makes you want him again. 

His mouth parts slightly as he stares at your lips around his fingers. He’s lost in the moment as you swirl your tongue around his digits, the same way you would if it were his cock. “You’re so hot,” he mumbles, sounding almost disappointed. “But you know that I’m–”

“Just visiting,” you interrupt, letting his fingers fall from your mouth. You give him a soft smile, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I know.”

“You were amazing,” he tells you. “Just…” he trails off, then sighs. “Amazing.”

“You weren’t too bad yourself, hotshot,” you reply, leaning up to give him a brief peck on the lips. His hands find their way around your waist and his lips follow yours when you pull away. “But you wouldn’t want to worry your roommate in the hotel, would you? Out so late, they might be scared that you got lost or…”

Trevor lets out a little huff of laughter and bites your lip playfully. “I don’t think he missed me.” He pulls back. 

You pull your dress down so you’re completely covered again. “Well, Trevor, if you’re ever back in town,” you offer, knowing that it’s probably never going to happen again and that this was a spur of the moment thing. “I’ll be here.”

He nods, leaning down to kiss you one more time. You turn around to fix your hair in the mirror, watching him as he retreats, opening the bathroom door and exiting through it. You’ll probably never see him again, but hey, a girl can always hope.

notes: happy first "posted on tumblr & shared in a way that will impact my digital footprint"! this fic comes at the encouragement of my friend hannah (@johncena2020) & trevor was chosen by the one and only wheelofnames.com. let me know your thoughts/comments/concerns/quibbles/questions & reach out if you want!! i'm looking to write as much as i can to get over the bit of writer's block i have had since, like, forever... and smut seems like the perfect way to do it since i'm a huge consumer of the nhl smut genre. xoxoxoxo hugs and kisses always, andy girl <3

[erswrites]

notice you

summary: you’ve always loved xavier thorpe from a distance and jump in front of an arrow to save him. gender neutral pronouns <3

word count: 1.6k

warnings: mentions of blood and being wounded, some swearing

The wind and heat from the fire swirling around in the air pull you from the siren song's hold on your mind. The noise from the fight unfolding around you must have been louder than the siren’s message.

You blink a few times before realizing you’re in the quad, following a few of the people on your hall away from the courtyard.

You freeze when you see what you can only assume to be Joseph Crackstone resurrected from the dead among the flames with Wednesday. Your friends are calling to you from the door to your left, but you ignore them when you notice Xavier arrive in the doorway just a few strides away.

He releases the arrow from his bow and you follow it with your eyes to see Crackstone stop it before it reaches him and slowly rotate it back around towards Xavier.

There was no time to think. You can remember hearing your friends screams behind you as you took a step towards Xavier. Then another and another until you were running as fast as you could.

With your telekinesis, you push Wednesday out of the arrow’s path to safety. The last thing you remember thinking was if this kills me, at least I’m dying for the boy I love. You planted your feet square in front of Xavier, immediately feeling a sharp pain in your shoulder that knocks the wind from your lungs and warm blood spilling down your body.

Then your mind went black. When you came to, your back was pressed into Xavier’s chest and you were laying between his legs on the concrete. You must have fallen into him. His breathing was frantic against you and you felt his hands come to the arrow in your left shoulder. You winced in pain and heard a thousand panicked “oh my gods” and “sorrys” fall from his lips.

“Break it,” you whispered through gritted teeth, in pain. It was too deep to pull out, plus you were afraid of making the wound worse.

“Okay, okay,” he breathed in your ear before snapping the thin wood to shorten the arrow.

“Wednesday?” you manage to ask him. He knows what you mean. “She’s okay,” he whispers.

Xavier shifts behind you, using his hands on your back to lay you down gently. He leaves a large hand cradling under your head that silently says I’m not leaving as he calls out to your friend while he kneels next to you.

“Wednesday!” he yells.

“Get them out of here!” you hear Wednesday return.

And before you can protest, Xavier is lifting you off the group with one arm under your knees and the other around your back holding you to his chest. You probably could have walked but he didn’t stop to ask.

In the safety of his arms, your adrenaline wears off and your eyes become heavy as your vision blurs. You try mumbling something to him but you can’t get it out because you’re passing out.

——————

A consistent beep pulls you out of your sleep. You become aware that you’re alive before noticing the sound of a pencil being dragged across paper and a hand grazing over it.

Then you remember and you shift in the sheets of the hospital bed.

When you open your eyes, you see Xavier Thorpe leaned over you with an expression you’ve never seen in his green eyes.

“Welcome back,” he says quietly. You smile the best you can.

“The doctors said you’ll be fine after your stitches heal. They had to remove the arrow in surgery.”

You exhale the breath you’d been holding in. This might be the most words he’s ever said to you directly. And even in your current circumstance where you should obviously be more worried about the gaping wound in your shoulder, you can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach at his proximity to you.

“I’m supposed to call the nurse the second you wake up,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Will you wait?” you ask, “just a few minutes?”

“Yeah of course,” he says as he sits back down in the seat he’d pulled up inches from your bed.

You follow him with your eyes and notice dozens of drawings littering the table by your bed. He must have been here for hours. Long enough to steal a little notepad and pencil from the nurse’s station and bring every corner of the hospital room to life. You hope he’ll let you keep the one of the bouquet of flowers.

Your breath hitches when you notice there’s one of you with your face tucked into a book, reading intently. This is probably the only way he’s seen you. You realize you’re wrong when your eyes find another of you sitting with your gaze on to a desk, eyebrows dipped together in concentration. You’re scribbling notes with one hand while your chin is tucked into your other palm. One that looked like you standing in line at the Weathervane and another of you walking with Enid and Yoko. He had been trying to draw every memory he had of you.

A comfortable silence falls between you as you pray he won’t ask the obvious question you’ve been dreading since you took the first step in his direction back in the courtyard.

He whispers your name gently, bringing you back to the room and you know it’s coming.

“Why the hell did you do that?” he asks. Not accusatory or upset, but genuine and dumbfounded.

You close your eyes, too shy to meet his gaze when you answered.

“Come on Xavier, you know why,” you say as you sit up in the bed, wincing a little at the lingering pain.

It’s true, he’s noticed your glances and the way your cheeks flushed at the littlest thing he did or said. He lost track of the times he’d looked in your direction and caught you gazing at him from behind your book. You always complimented his mural in the quad or his drawings in class even though he feels like he’s never reciprocated the attention you give him. He actually can’t even think of a time he’s spoken to you individually and not in a group.

He blinks, a surprised expression painting his features, letting your words settle in his mind, confirming his suspicion. He exhales a long breath.

“Yeah, but jumping in front of me like that…” he trails off, still in shock that you would do something like that for him. “Why didn’t you just move the arrow instead of Wednesday?”

“It’s harder to focus on a moving object. I’m still learning that,” you explain, although that had actually not even occurred to you in the moment. Your brain went straight to protect. He must have been thinking about it a lot.

He nods in understanding. Another silence falls between you, this time a little more uncomfortable. You can feel a weird energy coming from him as it looks like he’s grappling with some thoughts.

“It’s okay Xavier,” you start, reaching a hand out to where his rested on the table by your bed trying to assure him, “you don’t have to feel the same.”

“Are you kidding?” he asks, eyebrows raised in astonishment. “You think I could watch you do something like that and then not immediately regret not noticing you sooner?”

You blush.

“I feel like an idiot,” Xavier says, dropping his head and lowering his gaze to his lap.

“No Xavier please don’t feel bad,” you plead. “I could have tried just talking you like a normal person you know.”

He laughs, bringing his head back up to meet yours.

“That was quite an unconventional way of getting my attention,” he jokes.

“It worked though,” you kid back at him, smiling to yourself.

Another silence lingers between you as you look at each other for what feels like the first time.

“Can I keep that?” you ask him, eyes gesturing to the drawing of the vase of flowers.

“You can have whatever you want,” he says confidently, handing you the scrap of paper. “I’ll get you some real ones one day.”

“I like these,” you smile at him.

“I’m sorry this is our first date,” he blurts out. Your shocked eyes dart to meet his green ones staring at you.

“And what makes you think I would have said yes to a date?” you joke with him, a feeble attempt to deflect. You’re finding it way easier to talk to him than you ever imagined previously.

“Hmm, maybe the jumping between me and an arrow thing,” he quips, bringing his finger to point at your bandaged up shoulder.

You smile and nod, admitting defeat.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you on our second date,” Xavier begins and you believe him. “But since we have a lot of time here before they let you go, I could go get us some coffees and you’ll let me ask you all the typical first date getting-to-know-you questions while we wait?”

“I’d love that,” you say breathlessly.

Xavier nods and gives you his toothy side smile that you’ve always adored.

“Okay, I’ll be right back then,” he says quickly, standing from his chair.

But when you expected him to turn and go, he stops and looks at you for a few moments. You can’t believe it when he leans in to your space and presses his lips gently against your cheek. Your eyes close with his kiss and you inhale a deep breath.

“Thank you,” he whispers into your ear before pulling away.

You can’t find words when he glances at you before leaving, but your adoring eyes are filled with you’re welcome and I would do it again and I love you and Xavier finally sees that.

—————

thank you for reading 🖤

[cameronspecial]

Kiss Cam

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.3K

Summary: Jonas Brothers' concerts are the best places for kisses.

A/N: Idea given by @mellillasstuff.

Masterlist

Drew got Y/N tickets to the Jonas Brothers’ tour because he knows how much he loves their music. Plus, after he saw posts about the tour on Instagram, he knew he had to take her there as an opportunity to get some smooches. He even made a small poster for the special moment; it couldn’t be big because it would raise suspicion from his girl. “While we play this next set, I think it is going to be the perfect opportunity to get out the kiss cam. So now is the time to get out your posters to let us know if you want to be on it,” Kevin informs into the microphone. Y/N sighs a little in disappointment. She would’ve loved to do this with Drew, but he likes to keep their relationship private because of his celebrity status, so she didn’t ask him if they could. She didn’t want him to feel bad if he said no. The loss of his warm arms around her waist causes her to turn back toward him. She doesn’t understand why he is reaching inside his jacket for something and it is even more confusing when a folded-up paper is pulled out. His eyes flicker to her and he grins at her waiting gaze. 

He turns the paper to face her and tears brim in her eyes as she reads it. My Girl Gives The Best Kisses. Please Give Us The Excuse. She has to giggle a little at the way the words get smaller in size because he runs out of space. She wraps her arms around his waist, “Thank you.” He raises the sign over the crowd thanks to his tall height, “No problem.” With the sign in the air, she rotates toward the screen and prays that they get chosen. The universe seems to be listening to her because the camera points in their direction. She screams in excitement at the victory and throws herself into her boyfriend’s arms. He stumbles a little bit backwards in surprise, capturing her lips in his. Their mouths move against each other and they keep going even though they know that the camera is no longer on them. Because when else would they get to have such a personal moment in a sea of people with the Jonas Brothers playing I Believe in the background?

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @victory-in-the-llama @starkowswife @drewsmusee

[starrylothcat]

If you’re still taking prompts, I’d love to see 12.) “Just lay back and let me take care of you” with Wolffe and an independent female reader who does things on her own and struggles to be vulnerable. I know that’s a lot, so please disregard if it’s too much :)

Look After You

Summary: The burdens of being a war medic are weighing you down, but Wolffe is here to comfort you.

Pairing: Wolffe x Fem!Reader. No pronouns used.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. PiV sex, cunnilingus, feelings of self-doubt / being overwhelmed / compassion fatigue. Mention of death. A lil’ angsty. Soft Wolffe. Established relationship.

Word Count: 2900

A/N: Ohh thank you for the ask, and it’s def not too much! This became a little personal to me, as compassion fatigue is a large issue in my field of work and something I have experience with. It was the first idea I had for this prompt, so sorry if it’s kind of angsty, haha. I hope this is kind of what you had in mind. I hope you enjoy~

Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum: I will know you forever.

Ner ca’tra: My night sky

Wolffe let out a long sigh as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, watching you pour over reports that were splayed across your desk. Wolffe had been standing in your personal quarters for a few minutes now, and you hadn’t noticed.

“It’s time for a break.”

You mumbled something incomprehensible in return, continuing to shuffle through the piles of flimsiplast reports, not paying attention to Wolffe whatsoever.

Your elbow was on your desk, your palm keeping your head up as your tired eyes flicked back and forth between documents.

Wolffe could tell you were stressed, and you have been for the last couple of rotations. You were returning from a difficult campaign on an outer rim planet, and though it was a victory, heavy losses had been sustained. Morale was low on the ship, as it was whenever they returned to Coruscant with less men than they started with.

It hit you especially hard, being a medic for the 104th. You weren’t immune to stress or grief, but you worked efficiently under pressure, not letting your emotions compromise your top-tier medical care when it was needed most.

That’s why Wolffe fell for you in the first place - your endless compassion and sense of duty. Wolffe has watched you save the lives of his brothers, doing everything in your power to give them the chance to fight another day.

Sometimes you worked too hard, Wolffe needing to remind you to rest. You knew you struggled with it, but the thought of being idle meant lives could be at stake.

The war was not stopping, and if you stopped, what were you left with?

These thoughts were troubling you more and more, especially after this mission.

Death was part of the job, you knew that and have fully accepted it. But each death was starting to weigh heavier on your soul, wondering if you could have done more to save them.

You were beginning to doubt your skills, a heaviness on your chest that wouldn’t quite go away.

You wanted to tell Wolffe, but didn’t want to worry him.

He had enough on his plate and didn’t need to be reminded of the losses. At least that’s what you told yourself. You knew Wolffe would want to listen, but you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about it.

The only thing you could do was work, and hope that was enough of a distraction until you got back to Coruscant.

Wolffe cleared his throat, trying to get your attention again, but to no avail.

Wolffe knew something deep was troubling you, he’s noticed your change in behavior the last few rotations.

You've barely left your quarters on the Republic light cruiser you were currently stationed on, and your usual organized space was a mess. Half-filled cups of old caf were precariously pushed to the end of your desk, your bed was unmade, and plates from the mess hall stacked on the floor by your door.

Wolffe wished you would give him the chance to help you, or at least admit something was bothering you.

You were so caught up in making sure other’s needs were met, you often forgot about yourself.

Wolffe rolled his eye, having an idea of what was going on. He strode behind you, placing his gloved hands on your hunched shoulders.

You didn’t even flinch, murmuring to yourself and typing at hyperspace speeds on your datapad.

Wolffe gently squeezed and felt your tense muscles instantly relax under his fingertips.

Wolffe lowered his head toward yours, lips brushing against your temple.

“Can you take a break…for me?” He whispered, digging more into your shoulders, eliciting a small groan from you.

Finally, you broke free from your work, turning toward him, snapping out of your concentration.

“Wolffe, I have a lot to do…”

Wolffe grunted in response.

“So do I.”

You couldn’t help the small, pleasured exhale that left your lips as Wolffe continued to release the tension out of your stiff muscles, planting kisses down your neck.

“You need to rest. It’s an order from your Commander.”

You turned to him, and though his tone was stern his eyes held something deep, a glint of tenderness only reserved for you.

You let out a breath, pushing yourself away from your desk.

You stood up, stretching your aching back, feeling bad for ignoring him. You hadn’t even noticed he entered your room, thinking he was going to be busy with his own reports and meetings the rest of the night.

Wolffe wrapped himself around you, holding you close as he gently placed his finger and thumb under your chin, tilting your head up toward him.

“Ner ca’tra…”Wolffe touched his forehead against yours as you melted against him, only calling you that special name when you were truly alone and speaking heart to heart. “What’s on your mind?”

You were silent, biting your lip that was threatening to quiver.

Wolffe had noticed your odd behavior, and knew you couldn’t keep it from him forever.

“It’s just my reports…” You mumbled, not finding the courage to admit what you were really thinking.

Wolffe grunted as you leaned your head against his chest, hearing his heartbeat. He wasn’t wearing the top half of his armor, so his body heat radiated onto you, a comforting feeling.

Wolffe sighed. “I know that’s not what’s bothering you. You can talk to me. If you’re not ready, I understand. But I don’t like seeing you like this.”

Wolffe felt you tremble against him as you gripped the front of his blacks.

You wanted to tell him how tired you were, how burnt out you felt, how you were doubting your skills as a medic and every soldier that died under you care was a failure on your part.

You couldn’t speak, a small sob leaving your lips as you pressed yourself into Wolffe’s chest, gripping the front of his blacks harder.

The hidden emotion was threatening to spill out, the nagging thoughts you usually tried to keep at bay, tucked deep down where it couldn’t affect your work.

Wolffe stayed silent, rubbing your back as you let out another sob, falling apart in his arms. Though Wollfe wasn’t speaking, his silence was loud and clear.

Tell me, it’s okay.

“I…I’m just…tired. Tired of the fighting. Tired of death. Tired of seeing good men die for no reason.” Your words were muffled as you wept, fully crying into his chest. Wolffe rested his chin on your head, still quietly rubbing your back. “I…don’t feel like I’m doing enough. No matter how many lives I save, it doesn’t matter…”

Your voice trailed off, trying to catch your breath as more sobs waited in your throat, hot tears spilling down your cheeks and soaking the front of his blacks.

“I didn’t want to add to your burdens, you’ve already lost so much -

“Never think of your burdens as less than mine.” Wolffe cut you off, speaking finally. He pulled you from his chest, his thumb tracing beneath your now puffy eye, wiping away the tears.

“How many times have you helped me through my weakest moments?”

You had soothed Wolffe through many periods of grief, times where he was so angry, so devestated, he couldn’t speak, only quietly weep in your arms as you held him, just as he was holding you now.

Wolffe was eyeing you intensely, his brows furrowed.

“You’re always helping others. It’s okay to let others help you. You’re worthy of that, ner ca’tra.”

The stoic and battle-hardened Commander then kissed you so tenderly and held you so reverently, you couldn't stop the tears from welling in your eyes once again.

“I am always here for you. You know that.”

You nodded, leaning into his large, warm hand.

“I know, Wolffe. I’m…sorry I kept it from you.”

Wolffe traced his thumb over your lips. “You never need to apologize, not for this.”

Wolffe kissed you again, this time more passionately, his tongue tracing over your lower lip as you released his blacks and brought your arms around his solid neck.

You opened your mouth fully for his tongue to caress your own, both of you emitting a small groan as your mouths danced.

“You always take such good care of me…” Wolffe rumbled against you, desire now bubbling in his good eye, his hands ghosting at the hem of your tunic.

“Just lay back and let me take care of you. Is that okay?”

Wolffe kissed your neck, lightly grazing his canines on your skin. His gloved hands now fully under your tunic, delicately roaming up your torso.

“Yes.”

Wolffe wasted no time walking you backward to your bed. Your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and Wolffe laid you down onto the plush blankets.

Wolffe’s tight blacks highlighted his wide chest and rippling muscle underneath, his biceps flexing as he quickly removed his lower armor.

To anyone else, he would look immensely intimidating as he peered down at you, his cybernetic eye almost glowing as he drank in your form. Though his expression was as serious as a lothwolf, you caught that tender look again as he climbed on top of you. That look that said I’m here, I’m yours.

Wolffe made quick work of removing your tunic and breast band, kissing down your chest, leaving small marks to remind you of him later.

“Relax.” He mumbled into your skin, still feeling how tense you were. “I have you.”

Wolffe’s lips trailed up the side of your breast and he took one of your nipples in his mouth. He gently sucked and rolled your sensitive bud on his tongue, feeling it harden under his careful ministrations.

You whined, breathing out his name, letting him take full control over you.

Wolffe released your nipple with a pop and looked up at you, his singular eye once again filled with such gentleness you blinked back tears.

You moaned softly as Wolffe took your other breast in his mouth, giving it the same lavish attention as the other, alternating between using his teeth and tongue, gently sucking and pulling at the sensitive flesh.

Wolffe could hear your labored breathing quicken as he worked your nipple, one of your hands grasping his cropped hair, warmth spreading between your legs.

Once Wolffe decided both of your breasts received proper treatment, he continued kissing down your stomach, moving down your body as he did so. Wolffe slipped off the bed, kneeling as he carefully pulled your body to the edge of the mattress.

He didn't say anything as he removed your pants and underwear, taking off his gloves and stroking a finger through your slick pussy. You keened and whimpered his name as Wolffe kneaded and massaged your thighs, staring at you intently.

“You've saved the lives of my brothers, and mine, more times than I can count. Never doubt your abilities, cyare.” Wolffe murmured, still caressing your thighs.

“I know it feels like it’s never enough. Wolffe kissed your inner leg, tracing his tongue over the sensitive flesh. “But it is. I promise.”

Your heart swelled at his words, breathy gasps escaping your lips as he gently probed your pussy with his tongue, focused on licking and exploring, knowing exactly what you needed.

“Wolffe…oh…Wolffe…” He slowly licked a stripe up your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit, applying perfect pressure as a thick finger slipped into you.

You grasped the bedsheets and bucked your hips as he lazily fucked you with his finger, pressing to the top of your walls to maximize your pleasure.

He increased his pace as he focused his mouth on your soft labia and clit, bringing you to an explosive first orgasm that shook your body, causing more tears to stream down your face.

Wolffe worked you through it, kissing your inner legs again, leaving a warm trail of kisses back up your torso to wipe the tears away before going back down between your legs.

Wolffe continued to take his time warming you up with his fingers and mouth, bringing you to release too many times to count.

Every inch of your body was claimed by him, worshiped by him, your heart ready to burst with every touch.

Your lovemaking was usually intense, not knowing if it was the last time you had together before being apart on missions, but tonight was different.

Wolffe was touching you as if it was your first time, re-learning your curves and dips, slowly drawing ecstasy from your body and leaving you breathless.

Finally, when you were too tired to move, thoroughly blissed by his ministrations, Wolffe quickly stripped himself of his blacks, laying his body on yours. You felt his rigid cock against your thigh, knowing he was probably desperate for his own relief.

You reached down to grasp him, wanting to give him the same amount of attention as he just gave you, but he gently moved your hand away.

“Next time…” he murmured. “This is all about you.”

Wolffe rubbed his cock against your folds, which were thoroughly soaked. “We don’t have to if you’re not feeling-” Wolffe started. You grasped his hair and pulled him in for a kiss.

“I want to. I want you.” You looked up at him, your eyes begging to have this moment where it’s just the two of you, no one else.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in flush against you. “I'm yours.”

Wolffe was so deep inside you, your vision was blurred and you were delirious with euphoria.

You couldn’t speak, every thrust of his hips punching the breath out of your lungs.

Wolffe was talking to you, guttural saccharine murmurs between his own pleasured groans only meant for you to keep close to your heart.

The ever-strong, stalwart Commander, never showing weakness on the battlefield or in front of his brothers, opened his soul just for you in this powerfully private moment.

It almost overwhelmed you, how much he trusted you. You felt guilty for keeping your feelings from him the past few cycles, but as he ravaged your body so devoutly and thoughtfully you couldn’t linger those thoughts long.

Your final orgasm was quickly approaching, Wolffe’s brutal pace not slowing as he felt you clench around him, knowing you were close.

Your knees were pressed into his chest, his cock plunging impossibly further as his large arms caged you in, his fists digging into the sheets around your head.

Wolffe was watching you intently now, observing how your head was thrown back, your mouth open but unable to make a sound as Wolffe gave you everything he had. “Let go, cyare,” Wolffe grunted above you, his end nearing too, your sweet cries and velvety muscle milking his cock becoming too much.

“Let go. I’m here.”

Wolffe’s messily pressed his lips to yours as you fell over the precipice of pleasure, swallowing your cries as your body shook and toes curled at the unbridled pleasure that overtook your being.

Wolffe’s wild pace did not slow, your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as every thrust of his hips sent shockwaves throughout your body.

Feeling and hearing your orgasm sent Wolffe over, growling your name against your swollen lips, his hips stuttering as his cock emptied inside you. His warmth filled you, leaking onto your sheets as he pumped into you with a few final, shallow thrusts, his back muscles tensing and quivering under your palms.

He pressed his face into the side of yours, his heavy breath tickling your skin as he stilled, laying on top of you, careful not to crush you under his weight.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.” Wolffe spoke it so quietly, you almost missed it over the sound of your own pounding heart and heavy breathes.

You smiled, repeating back the words, understanding their meaning. You were learning Mando’a from Wolffe, still trying to nail down the correct pronunciations.

Wolffe smirked softly. “Good effort, but you need more practice. I think you told me I was your loving idiot.”

You giggled, feeling lighter now, the burdens of war momentarily forgotten as you lay with Wolffe. “I guess I’ll have to keep saying it.”

Wolffe grunted, a ghost of a rare smile still on his face.

With some effort, Wolffe rolled off of you, your bodies slick with sweat. Leaving you on the bed, he went into your small refresher. You could hear the sound of water being turned on, and he emerged a few moments later, coming back to the bed.

You thought he was going to lay next to you again, but he slid his arms under your legs and torso, effortlessly lifting you up. “Wolffe, what are you…?” You gasped as he nestled you into his arms.

“I’m not done taking care of you, cyare.” He rumbled, striding to the bathroom where the tub was being filled up.

You smiled as he let you down from his arms, stepping onto the cool tile, your legs wobbly from your lovemaking.

“I thought you said you had a lot to do?” You teased as Wolffe stepped into the tub, sinking into the warm water.

“I do, but it can wait. You’re more important than reports and meetings, cyare. At least tonight.” Wolffe smirked, his cybernetic eye flashing, gesturing for you to join him.

You stepped into the tub, the hot water relaxing your sore muscles, your mind finally at ease. You faced him, the steam filling the room.

“Thank you.” You muttered, reaching toward him and running your hand over his scar, tracing your fingers under his eye.

Wolffe turned and kissed your palm. “No need.”

You smiled, leaning back against the tub, sitting in comfortable silence. Your previous anxious notions evaporating with the steam rising from the water.

You knew there were tough days still yet to come for both of you, but at least right now, you could forget.

Taglist: @littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @secretthegriffin @secondaryrealm @sinfulsalutations @anxiouspineapple99 @idontgetanysleep @wanderer-six @blueink-bluesoul @the-cantina @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @523rdrebel @dukeoftheblackstar @sleepingsun501 @pb-jellybeans @starqueensthings @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar

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[the-broken-truth]

Twisted Wonderland Nonsense [6]: The Prefect Chart

[Note: Yuu is genderless, using the They/Them Pronouns]

[The Overblot Boys (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, and Malleus) are occupying one of the meeting rooms; Riddle being the only one who is standing a large horizontal white board that rotates, while the rest of the Overblots are sitting in their chairs; well, Leona lounging in his chair and looked like he was about to fall asleep.]

Riddle: Now that we are all here... It's time to discuss a rather important matter: The Prefect of Ramshackle.

[All eyes are on Riddle, even Leona is awake and alert, paying attention to Riddle.]

Vil: What about My Sweet Potato?

Riddle: I am certain all of you are aware of this, but it would be wrong of me not to bring this up: We are consuming too much of the Prefect's Time from each other.

Jamil: Meaning?

Riddle: When someone wants to spend tim with Rose, they sometimes have to cancel on other obligations they have made with another one of us; causing them to feel rather bad about canceling on someone else. We all want to be around Rose, none of us can deny that; but we need to learn how to share the Prefect's Time fairly without overwhelming them.

Leona: Why the hell do I need to share My Herbivore with the rest of you when it's clear that I a their favorite?

Vil (Glaring at Leona): And what makes you think you are the Prefect's Favorite, you overgrown lazy cat?

Leona: They prefer to be around me more, considering that I am always at Ramshackle and they make me amazing meals without me even asking. And the head scratches...don't even get me started.

Jamil: Kingscholar, the only reason My Desert Flower allows you to stay at Ramshackle is because you break in when they are gone and steal their sofa for your damn napping. The only reason they make you food is because they are such a good host and would feel bad if they didn't offer you anything to eat. As for the head scratches, I am certain that you force your head into their lap and they scratch your head, thinking that you were Grim.

Leona (Glaring at Jamil): What the hell did you say, Serpent?!

Malleus: Kingscholar, Viper, that is enough. We are speaking about the Child of Man, now is not the time for pettiness. (Looks at Riddle) Please, move on, Rosehearts.

Riddle (Flips the Board over - revealing an empty Pie Chart with Yuu's Name at the top): This is the Prefect Chart, we are going to divide the Prefect's Free Time fairly so that we can all spend time with them without overwhelming them.

[The Other Overblot Boys nod.]

Riddle: Now, according to my sources: Rose's Busiest Days are Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays - therefore, we need to have Rose relax and rest after all of that work.

Jamil: Scarabia has some of the softest beds on campus and I can make them some good food. I will cater to my desert flower, just as I would cater to Kalim.

Vil: What about Al-Asim's Hyperactiveness and Relentless Partying? Wouldn't that bother My Sweet Potato's Rest? I think Pomefiore would be the better place for the Prefect to rest.

Idia: With that overwhelming smell of perfume? Sugar Skull should ome to Ignihyde - I have a Sound Proof Room with no dim lighting so they can get some proper rest.

Riddle: Viper, what days does Kalim not throw parties?

Jamil: He tends to avoid partying on Wednesdays.

Riddle: Okay - Aftering Rose's Work on Wednesdays, Rose will rest in Scarabia. Pomefiore woud be good for Mondays, and Ignihyde on Fridays.

[Vil, Jamil, and Idia nod]

Riddle: Moving on. The Prefect loves to execise on Saturdays to release all pent up energy and anger. I think it would be best if Rose spent that day with Savanaclaw.

Leona: Agreed.

Malleus: If that is the case, I would ask that My Child of Man comes to Diasomnia on Sundays.

Riddle: That is fair. Moving on...

[The Overblot Boys continue the meeting for about 30 Minutes and ends when Riddle gives everyone copies of the Prefect Time Chart they've all agreed one.]

[Meanwhile - At Ramshackle]

Yuu (Reading a book and looks up, looking around to see if someone is watching them): Why do I feel like someone is gunning for me?

[clu-ven]

The Closet

Summary: The Wolfpack is sick of the constant arguing between you and Wolffe, so they take matters into their own hands. Surely if you and the Commander were accidentally locked into one of the supply closets, you’d come to some sort of middle ground, right?

Well, there’s one thing they’re forgetting… you’re claustrophobic.

TW: small spaces, claustrophobia, panic attack 

Word Count: 4.7k

-> Reader uses she/her pronouns - masterlist can be found here <-

“It’s the perfect plan!” Boost exclaims, slapping the table in front of him for emphasis. 

The mesh hall is relatively crowded today, many hungry troopers finally getting some time to relax after another tough mission. Despite the loud chatter of the room, Sinker keeps his voice low. 

“I’m not sure,” he concludes with the shake of his head “it sounds risky and Wolffe is in a bad mood as it is, I don’t want this to make him worse”.

At the other side of the table, Boost shares a mild look of annoyance with Comet. “C’mon Sarge, this solves all of our problems!” Comet replies with a whine. It took him and Boost the past week to come up with this plan, putting more time into it than they’d like to admit.

With a deadpan voice, Sinker replies “Oh so this will end the war? And kill Dooku? And wash the gunships? Each and every problem we have will be instantly solved if we lock them in a supply closet?”.

Boost shrugs, trying to stay optimistic “You never know”. Sinker scoffs, rolling his eyes at his brother. 

The plan was simple but Comet and Boost couldn’t do it alone. They needed Sinker for this to work. Sighing, Boost leans across the table “Look, all you have to do is get her into the closet on the lower deck, that’s it”. 

Sinker is still unsure. “We’ll get the Commander, shove him in there, lock the door and ta-dah! Job done” Comet adds. 

This doesn’t sound like a good plan. Sinker knows that but it is enticing. He’s not sure if he can handle another mission full of you and Wolffe’s bickering, the two of you proclaiming you can’t stand the other.

Missions would be much easier if you both avoided each other but no, despite the constant arguing you two engage in, you will still insist on being near one another, whether that be sharing the same holomap (which is an absolute nightmare to witness) or standing next to one another in a briefing (which leads to you interrupting him and vice versa for the entire. damn. briefing.).

Sinker wants to say no, to put a stop to his brother’s shenanigans but would this do any harm? Maybe if you both got the opportunity to confront one another and get all of this arguing out of your system once and for all, then you might come to some sort of middle ground and let bygones be bygones.

“If I agree to this…” he begins and Boost impulsively throws his fist in the air “Yes! You're in!”.

“I said if…” Sinker says sternly “if I do this then the two of you have to wash the gunships”.

Boost nearly falls off his seat “H-how many are you expecting us to wash, Sarge?”. 

“I want four done by the end of the next rotation”.

Although Comet has never experienced a heart attack, he’s sure this is how it feels “What?! Four? C’mon Sinker, be reasonable”.

He folds his arms “Boys, if you want my help then that’s what it’ll cost ya”. Exchanging looks to one another, Comet huffs “Fine, we agree”.

***

The sound of your name makes you look up, eyes wide as you scan the corridor. Manoeuvring through some troopers, Sinker comes into view. 

Closing your datapad, you give the Sargeant your full attention, a relaxed smile on your face. 

“Sinker, what can I do for you?” You ask.

A flicker of sympathy crosses Sinker’s face as he answers “Well, I was just wondering if you could help me get some batca patches from the supply closet. There’s a whole box in there but, well, y’know me, I accidentally pushed them behind the shelving unit and now they’re stuck between that and the wall. Do you think you could get them for me?”.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, so quick to help that it makes the ball of guilt in Sinker’s stomach grow “lead the way”.

While usually you and Sinker always find things to talk about, he’s strangely quiet during your walk to the lower deck. It’s not something that alarms you but instead, it worries you. 

It’s no secret that things have been intense lately. The missions have gotten deadlier, injuries are harder to aid and the Separatist army seems to be growing more and more by the minute.

Even something as simple as accidentally knocking some bacta patches behind a cabinet seems like a dire problem nowadays. 

“It’s that one, just up ahead” Sinker slows his pace, pointing at one of the closets. 

“You’re not coming in?” You quirk an eyebrow, slowing your pace to match his. 

“Hm? Oh… uh, no I have to go help the General with something… sorry, I should’ve said that beforehand” he scratches the back of his neck, preferring to look down at the floor.

“That’s ok, you go on ahead, I’ll take care of this” with a firm nod, you open the door to the closet and disappear inside. Once Sinker’s certain the door has fully closed behind you, he lets out a long sigh. Kriff, that was harder than he thought it would be.

The inside of the closet is dark, the dim lights taking a few seconds to boot up. In your time serving the GAR, you’ve been on a multitude of ships, covered with the most cutting edge technology and yet in each and every ship, the closets are always neglected. 

They’re a second thought in comparison to the other elements of the ship. Cluttered floors, racks that are full of various stock that are probably out of date, a musty smell in the air, dull lights that are incapable of doing their sole purpose. It’s not a place you want to be for a long time.

Trying to look behind the metal shelving units, you mumble a curse. It’s dark behind the cabinets with barely enough space between them and the wall for you to fit your arm through.

Stooping down, you reach into the darkness, trying to find this damn box of bacta patches so you can quickly leave again. 

You’re so invested in finding the box, you pay no attention to the voices outside. “Why would the General want to meet me in there?” A voice says and without missing a beat, another voice replies “I’m not sure, Commander, I thought it was best not to ask”.

Behind you, the door opens but with the position you’re in, it’s hard to turn around and look. “I haven’t found it yet,” you call out “kriff, how far back did it fall?”.

The person doesn’t reply. 

“I know you’re really busy just standing there and all, Sinker,” you huff “but I’d really appreciate some help”.

“Sinker?” the voice scoffs, making you freeze. Clumsily removing your hand from behind the cabinet, you stand up straight and come face to face with Commander Wolffe.

You have to admit, you didn’t think you’d come this close to him, your chest almost bumping against his as you sway backwards to give him some space. “Oh! Commander-“ you start but Wolffe talks over you.

“I know us clones all look the same but the last time I checked, Sergeant Sinker has silver hair and both of his biological eyes”. You can hear the venom in his voice, his tone laced in sarcasm as he continues “Just a tip, so you don’t mix people up next time”.

You can’t help scoff, retorting “Mix people up? I wasn’t even looking at you! Am I just supposed to sense how many biological eyes you have?”.

“You should look whenever someone enters a room,” Wolffe begins to lecture you “that’s protocol 101; always be aware of your surroundings”.

“My apologies, Commander, I didn’t realise I came here to get a lesson in GAR protocol” you snap back. This is a usual occurrence whenever you and Wolffe are near each other, neither of you backing down and arguing until you’re separated by the others.

With the rolls of his eyes, Wolffe gestures towards the door “Just go, I have an important meeting in here”.

“With pleasure” you mumble, trying to move around the Commander without walking straight into him or colliding with the multiple cabinets.

Wolffe leans to the side, huffing loudly just to make sure you know this is a bother to him, giving you space to step over one of his legs and move to the door.

Your fingers brush against the control panel to the door, lighting it up. Nothing happens. You wait a few moments before doing it again but this time you press harder on the panel. Still nothing.

“Huh…” you crease your brow, repeating the action for a third time.

You hear some movement behind you and Wolffe turns his body to face you, peering over your shoulder at the control panel. With his critical gaze on you, you try again but to no avail. 

“Are you pressing it hard enough?” his voice is gruff and surprisingly close to your ear. 

You jerk your head away from him “Jeez, are you trying to make me go deaf? Of course I’m pressing it hard enough!”. With extra force, you press down on the control panel again. 

Nothing. 

Wolffe rolls his eyes, reaching his arm around you and trying it himself “Obviously you’re not if the door isn’t opening”. Stabbing his finger at the control panel, you hear a small “...oh” from behind you when the door still refuses to open. 

“Move over, let me have a proper look at it” Wolffe puts his hands on your shoulders, abruptly guiding you away from the control panel as you both switch places in a shuffling motion.

Now with Wolffe closest to the door, you lean against one of the cabinets, firmly planting your hands on the cool metal. 

You can feel your face becoming flushed, a surge of warmth spreading across your cheeks. The door will open, of course it will. This is just a small malfunction, that’s all. And then you can leave this stupid closet and never come back here again. 

Trying to distract yourself, you decide to subject yourself to small talk with Wolffe. 

“So, why are you here anyway?” you ask, your grip tightening on the shelves as if you’re bracing for impact. 

Wolffe keeps his focus on the control panel, fiddling with it as he answers “The General wants to meet me in here, says it’s something important”. 

Are you hallucinating or did he just say the General? Clarifying, you ask “General Plo wanted to talk to you… in a supply closet?”.

“That’s what I said”.

“And the General said this to you himself?” you pry, trying to ignore the loud thudding of your heart. 

“Not exactly” putting his hands on his hips, Wolffe pauses his investigation of the control panel “hmm, it was Comet and Boost. They said he wanted to meet me here”.

You force out a small laugh “And you believed them? Really?”.

Wolffe says something you don’t quite catch, something in Mando’a. Running his hand down his face, he gives the control panel a death stare for good measure. 

“The bad news is the door is locked from the outside, so I can’t open it from here but the good news is the maintenance droids run on a tight schedule so one of them should be…” glancing over his shoulder at you, his words fail him and for a moment, Wolffe’s taken aback.

The puzzled look on the Commander’s face makes you feel even worse, an overwhelming feeling of dread consuming your senses. “What? What is it?” you question, your tone a little too confrontational but thankfully Wolffe doesn’t bite back (for once).

“Why is your face so red?”.

Your stomach twists in directions you’re not sure it’s meant to, utterly embarrassed by such a question. Averting your gaze, your eyes lock onto the shelves that line the room, so cluttered it feels like they’re swarming you.

If you reach your arm out, you could touch almost any shelf. Could you do that beforehand? Is the room getting smaller?

With the surprisingly gentle call of your name, Wolffe brings your attention back to him, his hands out in front of him as if he’s trying to tame a wild animal. “Just tell me what’s wrong,” he coaxes, moving closer to you “are you hurt? Is that why you're in here?”.

With his hand a mere inch from touching you, you flinch, pressing yourself deeper into the cabinet as you screw your eyes shut. It’s not that you don’t mind being touched but the thoughts of feeling such a dominant presence as well as the cramped aura of the room makes your stomach churn. 

“No, no, I don’t like this room,” you blurt out, voice beginning to shake as you continue “everything feels too tight, it’s all too close, I-I don’t like it”.

Wolffe can handle fighting battle droids, kriff, he can even hold his own against a sith but this? He knows he’s out of his depth but Wolffe also knows this isn’t the time to freeze, not when it’s you. Right now, you need him and he’ll be damned if he doesn't help.

He notices your tight grip on the shelves, your knuckles turning white as if you’re holding on for dear life. “Do you want to sit down?” Wolffe keeps his voice uncharacteristically soft, stooping to the ground in the hopes you’ll follow. 

Hesitantly opening your eyes, you scan the floor below. It’s covered in loose, discarded items that once sat on the shelves but have since been looked over and forgotten.

Is there any part of this closet that’s clean? That doesn’t feel crowded? Your head pangs, pain lingering across your forehead. 

You let out a whine. Wolffe keeps one of his hands stretched out to you, opening his palm wide “Don’t be stupid about this, let me help you”. 

You don’t think he can help, in fact you don’t think anyone can help you right now. But then your gaze meets his. Wolffe looks up at you with calm, hopeful eyes, his rough exterior and brazen nature slowly melting away. 

You try to take a deep breath but the tightness in your throat makes it an impossible task. You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t even want to look at Wolffe right now, the embarrassment of your involuntary actions making you feel worse. But what other choice do you have? It’s not like you can walk away, you can barely take a step forward without face planting a cabinet.

Nervously nodding your head, you take his hand. Wolffe tentatively encloses his hand around yours, watching your reaction closely. At any sign of further discomfort or even the slight jerk of your hand, he would let go, not wanting to accidentally make matters worse. 

“Good… finally, you actually followed an order” he jibes, the subtle smirk on his face letting you know he’s not purposely dissing you. Although this is a comment you’d usually roll your eyes at, you weirdly find comfort in his typical teasing. 

With his hand to steady you, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. “There you go,” Wolffe comments “were you hurt? During the last battle?”. He knows you said it’s the room causing this but he doesn’t see how that’s possible. Not unless this was somehow caused by an injury you sustained in battle, one that’s only rearing its head now.

You shake your head, though that only makes you feel dizzy. “No, no… i-it’s too tight, this room, I need to get out,” you reply through laboured breaths.

Keeping one hand enclosed around yours, Wolffe uses his other hand to reach up and try the control panel again. He sighs when nothing happens. 

Letting out a small whimper, you slip your hand out of Wolffe’s, using both of your hands to pull your knees up against your chest as you hang your head low. 

You’ll never hear the end of this. Out of all the clones aboard, why did it have to be Wolffe in here? The one person you know will bring this up at a later date just to get the upper hand in an argument. 

What makes it worse is that you know he’ll only view you as being weak after this. Wolffe is a man that’s been through so much in his life, surviving a countless number of battles, disasters and attempts on his life. The heavy feeling of shame makes you hold onto your knees tighter. Wolffe is such a strong soldier and here you are, crumbling because of a locked door.

The soft sound of your name drags you away from your internal self-criticism, followed by a poking sensation on your leg.

Barely looking up, you see Wolffe prodding your knee, repeating your name again as he adds “I can’t help unless you give me something to work with, tell me what I can do”.

Wolffe has always had mixed feelings about you but that doesn’t mean he wants to see you upset. Sure, you’re stubborn… and feisty… and a headache to work with but in fairness, you’ve always been there for the Wolfpack. 

After a tough fight, you’ve helped them bandage up. When you don’t have full faith in a plan (usually one of Wolffe’s) you’ll create a backup plan for when things inevitably go off track. Even on those quiet rotations, when memories filled with loss and regret begin to flood his brother’s heads, you’re there, listening to them. You’re a comforting presence in many of their lives, even Wolffe’s.

But don’t even ask him to say that out loud. That’s never going to happen.

He pokes you again “C’mon, it’s not like I’m going anywhere… even if I wanted to”. You huff out a laugh, though that proves harder than you initially thought, your dry mouth making the laugh sound more like a cough.

If you don’t get out of here soon, you think you might get sick, the anxious feelings in your stomach continuing to gnaw away at you. 

“I… I need to get out, I need to leave” with newfound determination, you begin to stand. 

The second you plant your feet on the ground, you know it’s a bad idea, feeling your muscles tremble. It’s as if you can feel each and every one of your nerves twitching, your body involuntarily trembling with panic.

Wolffe is quick to follow suit, trying to stand without knocking into one of the shelves. “Woah, take your time” he says a bit more sharply than he anticipated. 

“No, let me leave, I need to-“ before you can even finish your sentence, your legs go from underneath you. You drop, about to crash back onto the ground when Wolffe catches you, scooping you up in his arms.

“What did I tell you?” He mutters with a huff, fully enclosing his arms around you as he lowers you back down to the ground. “Stay low,” he orders “the last thing either of us need is you fainting and smacking your head against the floor”.

You thought the feeling of someone else near you would make this worse, adding a new layer of suffocation to your mixture of emotions. But it’s actually kinda nice, the warmth radiating from Wolffe acting like a warm, welcoming blanket of comfort. 

Being in the professional setting of the GAR for so long, you’ve forgotten how soothing physical touch can be at times. Although your reaction is subtle, Wolffe notices how you faintly lean into him, your head a mere few inches from resting on his chest. He watches you for a moment, studying your face. 

Thankfully, you have your eyes closed again so he’s not worried you’ll catch him staring at you. Even though you’re in the middle of a panic attack, you look more relaxed than usual. Or at least more relaxed than how you usually are around Wolffe. 

Whenever he sees you, it’s only a matter of time before you both get worked up, the two of you bickering or making not so subtle jabs at one another. But looking at you now, there’s not a single trace of that annoyance he normally associates with you.

“Just relax, take some deep breaths” he encourages you, using his hand that’s resting on your upper back to give you a gentle nudge towards him. Wolffe isn’t sure how else to let you know it’s ok to relax against him, seeing the option of saying it directly being too awkward. 

He gives you a small smile and an approving nod as you do exactly that, letting your body fall against him as you rest your head on his chest.

Your hand comes up to his chest too, clutching onto the firm fabric of his Commander’s uniform, something you’re grateful he’s wearing considering his plastoid armour would be way too uncomfortable to relax against.

With your eyes still closed, you attempt to take some deep breaths, your breathing hitching every now and again. You try to sync your breathing up with Wolffe’s, finding the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest to be a lulling piece of comfort.

The tight sensation that grips your heart doesn’t fade instantaneously but you have to admit, it’s nice having someone close. It gives your mind something else to focus on instead of the cramped room, Wolffe’s presence distracting you from your worries.

The only time Wolffe ever expected you to be this close to him is if you had enough of his shit and decided to swing for him. Never in a million years would he imagine you being so peaceful and close to him.

With your voice coming out as a small whisper, you mumble “Thank you”. 

His heart beats faster at your small piece of gratitude, something Wolffe hopes you can’t hear through his uniform. He’s not used to things like this. Give him a blaster and Wolffe can handle himself just fine but holding someone and trying to comfort them? That’s not his strong suit. 

Taking a deep breath, you speak again, this time projecting your voice a bit more. “Did you really think you were meeting Master Plo here?” you sniffle, your head still aching but thankfully, the pain’s beginning to dull. 

Wolffe has to stop himself from doing another eye roll, not wanting to start a fight or get you worked up again. “That’s what I was told” he grunts.

To his surprise, you let out a small, genuine laugh. It makes his hands twitch, wanting to pull you even closer and relish in your laugh but he resists the urge. 

“And who told you that again? Oh yeah, Comet and Boost, two troopers known for their unwavering seriousness and hatred for pranks” you laugh, something Wolffe is thankful to hear again. 

“Alright you got me there,” he admits, knowing it wasn’t the smartest move to believe his troublesome brothers “but why are you in here? Did they say the same thing to you?”.

“Actually it was Sinker,” you reveal, getting rather comfy leaning against the Commander “he asked if I could get some bacta patches he accidentally dropped behind the cabinets”.

You can feel Wolffe deflate, puffing out a deep breath “Please tell me you didn’t actually believe that”.

“Why?” You crane your head to look up at him, watching as he tries to suppress his annoyed expression. 

Although you’d never say this outloud, he looks nice like this. Looking up at him in this position gives you a great view of his jawline, both of his eyes peering down at you and a genuine smile playing at his soft lips.

Damn, maybe you did actually hit your head. Trying to refocus on what he’s saying, you push any admiration you have for the Commander deep, deep down.

“Because the batca patches are stored on the upper deck,” removing one of his hands from you, he runs it down his face “kriff, you’ve been on this ship for months and you don’t even know where the batca patches are stored”.

While you would normally jeer back a response or scoff at Wolffe’s remark, immediately becoming defensive, you find it hard to do that after everything that’s happened. 

You finally feel relaxed again, a calmness settling in your stomach and putting your heart at ease. You’re in no mood to start a fight and frankly, you don’t think you have the energy for it either.

Instead you laugh again. After all, Wolffe has a point. You should’ve known where the bacta patches are kept and if you did then you wouldn’t be in this predicament. It was a silly mistake and at this moment, you can’t find the energy within you to do anything but laugh. 

Wolffe chuckles too, appreciating your reaction. Shrugging, he admits “Can’t blame you too much, it was only last week I realised the caff machine in the mesh hall has more than one setting”.

“Seriously?” you laugh again “But the default setting on that thing tastes like droid oil”.

“I know that all too well” Wolffe shakes his head, almost tasting the sour caff on his tastebuds from the mere mention of it.

You open your mouth to speak again but before you can, the door slides open, the bright lights from the corridor making you squint. A droid whirls into the room, taking no notice of you and going about it’s own business. 

And just like that, your time with Wolffe is over. 

Giving him a small smile, you climb off of him, getting to your feet. Watching Wolffe stand too, a sudden awkwardness hangs over you. Is that it? What do you say now? Thanks for the help but I’ll still call you out the next time you’re a jerk?

Noticing Wolffe’s expression, it’s clear you’re not the only one feeling this way. “Well, I guess that’s that” he nods, gesturing for you to leave the closet. You do so gratefully, shuffling past the droid and stepping into the wide and spacious hallway. 

When Wolffe steps out, you’re sure you see a flicker of reluctance in his eyes. But you quickly brush past it, blaming it on your vision still adjusting to the bright lights. 

“Are you going to be okay from here?” Wolffe asks, though it takes you a few moments to process his words, Wolffe’s head hanging low and voice just above a whisper. You’re not sure why he’s talking so low, it’s not like there’s many troopers on the lower deck to overhear. 

“Yeah,” you try to sound confident in your answer “I’ll take it easy for the rest of the rotation, just in case”. In an effort to persuade him, you give Wolffe a quick smile. 

“Right, well you know how to contact me if you need me…” he replies before realising how soft that sounds, immediately breaking eye contact with you and clearing his throat “or just go to the medbay, yes, that’s the better option, do that instead of contacting me. I’m very busy today”

“Busy getting stuck in closets?” you playfully tease, trying to brush past this awkward energy. 

He chuckles “Better me than you”. Kriff, that sounds too soft too. Wolffe’s not a tender, warm hearted kinda guy, so he’s not sure why he’s trying to be that around you, even if it’s subconsciously. 

Quickly shoving his feelings to one side, Wolffe chalks it up to your rare vulnerable moment bringing out his protective nature. That’s it. The next time he’ll see you, things will be normal, none of this small talk or softened expressions to one another.

With the curt nod of his head, the Commander walks away. It’s true, he does have a lot to do today but if you were to contact again, he’d be there in a heartbeat… even though he’s not exactly sure why he’d feel so much urgency to be there for you again. 

You blink a few times, surprised by his abrupt exit. But then you remember this is Wolffe so his sudden departure should’ve been expected. After all, he’s “so busy”. Rolling your eyes, you walk in the opposite direction, deciding to track down Sinker and give him a piece of your mind.

[wovenintosilk]

Hii, hope you're doing well!❤ I'm here to ask for a request (if they are open, if not, just ignore this) for Miles (both the spiderman and the prowler). Okay so, the reader (can be female or gn) is best friend with both Mileses(idk how to write names in English in plural, sorry) and in the Earth 42! Miles' (the prowler) she/they died (how optimistic) before he became prowler but, in Spiderman! Miles' universe she's/they're alive. 42!Miles is in love with her/them and very sad 'cause she's/they're dead. The Spiderman! Miles is not in love with them since he met Gwen and fell in love with her. Also, the reader is super - duper smart and she/they help(s) the Spider Society sometimes with technology and etc for money, but it's not a spider person themselves. So, when Miles Spiderman goes to the wrong universe , the reader also goes there and when Miles (spider) wakes up, she wakes up also tied to a beating thing(idk what's it's name) and she's like "Nah, idk, I can't do pretty much without my tech and you took it" and just chill and calm, not caring pretty much about the situation since she/they can't change it (and if u can, please insert a word fight between Miles the prowler and the other Miles, where the prowler is like "She's a very good person, they did so much for both us, and is alive in your universe and still you choose to fall in love with a person who you may not even see again tomorrow and weren't there for you in your worst time?" And the spidey just tries to convince the prowler to let him go to his universe to save his dad) Thanks and sorry for a request this long 😭(and sorry if u didn't understand something, English isn't my first language) ❤❤

CW: References to Death

F!Reader (Use of She/Her Pronouns)

Word Count: 1300

━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

A haze hung heavily over your eyes, clouded your vision as you tried to wake up and ignore the harsh throbbing at the back of your skull. Had you hit your head on something? You couldn’t even remember what had happened…

You followed Miles home. What he wanted to do had been dangerous and risky and could destroy everything both of you knew.

But it was Miles. All the times he’d had your back, both in and out of this dimension… you couldn’t leave him to fight this kind of battle by himself. After stepping through the portal, you’d only had a short period when you could look around before something hit you.

You flexed your fingers, surprised to find your arms restrained.

Alright. Damage control then. You could feel the leather pressing against your back so that must mean you weren’t tied to a wall or anything like that. A little shuffling revealed that it was movable to maybe a punching bag?

Which meant you should be able to rotate a little if you just adjusted your weight and… there.

The punching bag swung around as you slowly came to see two expressions staring at you – one panicked and uncertain while the other appeared an uncertain mix of neutral and confident.

But both versions were the same person. Miles.

And they both seemed very surprised you’d woken up.

“I didn’t think I would see you here,” you said, forcing your voice to work so you could croak out something and break the silence. “Uh… either of you, I suppose.”

Quick thinking made you aware of a few small problems with your current predicament. Perhaps largest of which you could see in the purple lighting surrounding you. The lair of the prowler and given the clothing choices of the new Miles, one you might know better than you wanted to.

“She’s alive.”

It was said so simply. Without question or thought. Yet it hit like a punch into your stomach as the implications of the words dug much deeper than you expected.

“Am I not meant to be?”

The Miles you didn’t know, shrouded in darkness and purplish-green hues stepped forward to get a clearer look at you. Something unnatural hung in his expression – it worried you how blankly he watched you. “No,” he eventually said. “No, you’re not meant to be alive in this dimension.”

The twisting feeling in your gut got a thousand times worse as you stared at him. What was that supposed to mean. Had you died here?

“Well,” you said. “I don’t think I’m meant to be dead in my dimension so have no plans to change that.”

“Why did you follow me?”

This time, the question came from the Miles you knew. The one who you’d spent countless hours speaking to. Yet he looked at you as though you’d betrayed him by following him through the portal. Maybe he thought you had.

“Nobody else knows where I came,” you explained. “They… they’re too occupied with everything else to waste time on me.”

“You should have stayed where you were safe,” the new Miles said and you felt like a tennis ball with how much you were being spoken to by both. “This dimension isn’t where you’re meant to be.”

“I didn’t really know that,” you complained. “I don’t routinely look at every dimension and see if I’m alive or not in it. All I did was follow Miles.”

“Then he shouldn’t have let you follow.”

Miles looked rather offended at his counterpart’s comment. “I didn’t even know she was going to do that. How was I meant to stop her if I only found out she followed me a few seconds ago?”

“You should pay better attention.”

You couldn’t help but wince at that, feeling almost validated in your own insecurities regarding the lack of consideration provided by Miles most days. Ever since he learned about the other Spidermen, things had felt somewhat strained between the two of you. After all, you couldn’t swing through the city with him or relate to all the secrecy and experiences of the superheroes.

“I have to get home somehow,” your Miles finally said. “Both of us do, alright? If you let us go, we can help save our dad.”

“Your dad. How is she alive?”

“What?”

The new Miles gestured to you and slowly turned to face Miles. “Did you save her?”

“From what?”

“Then she must not have been with you when it happened. Why? What were you doing instead of spending time with her?”

You were starting to get very confused but something else caught your attention. The build-up of Miles’ electricity, flowing steadily from his touch against the chains. He had a plan to escape from this – if only the other him didn’t notice.

“When did it happen?” you asked. “Maybe I can tell you.”

The date he said meant little to nothing to you. It was fairly recent and if you remembered well enough, you didn’t even see Miles that day. You’d meant to but by the time you arrived, he’d already been long gone with –

“You were with Gwen,” you said and then hurried to add. “She’s another… friend of ours.”

“Another friend from a separate dimension.”

Okay, so there was no getting around that. You nodded slowly, trying not to show how sensitive the topic was. You liked Gwen well enough even though she rarely truly socialised with you.

The new Miles scoffed. “So, he abandoned you for somebody new but I don’t see her here. She didn’t follow him.”

The awkward silence he caused nearly made you wince. Gwen’s betrayal still ran deep in Miles and you knew this topic wasn’t a great choice for right now. Still, you needed to keep speaking to maintain the Prowler’s attention so he wouldn’t notice the escape plan.

“Gwen had other things to deal with,” you told him. “And I wasn’t abandoned.”

“Do you believe that?”

You didn’t. But you weren’t exactly going to turn the attention back onto your Miles right now so you gritted your teeth.

“I’m sorry I died here,” you said.

“Obviously. You weren’t meant to. I tried… I don’t understand how it’s fair that you get to be alive in the dimension where another version of me forgets that you exist. And then you’re sent here and he gets angry at you. Strange.”

A break in the façade of the Prowler. For a second, the emotionlessness changed and you saw an actual response to how you felt.

“I’m not angry,” Miles defended himself. “I just need to get home quickly, alright? This is more important –“

“No, it’s not.”

As though a cruel joke in your favour, you saw a flash of something in the new Miles that you’d always wanted from the one you knew. The look of a person who could have once returned your feelings.

And so, you hesitated in speaking and he turned back to your Miles just as an explosion of electricity sent chain links in every dimension.

For a second, you met his eyes and watched him mouth that he’d be back right before he bolted for one of the windows. Glass shattered everywhere as his counterpart shook his head and bolted after him.

You groaned and rested your head against the punching bag, left alone in a warehouse.

The chains loosened around you and you had only a second to react before you landed on the ground. You winced and rolled your shoulders, turned around to find the last person you ever expected to.

“Come on,” Aaron says. “Boy wouldn’t want you to stay here and wait for him.”

You didn’t know which one he was referring to but without many options, you followed him into a harshly different world to the one you grew up in.

[midnightstay-blog]

6+9 with svt dokyeom he/him please?

Sure ! 😊 I hope you like it. It's my first time writing for he/ him pronouns.

💫Muse💫 (Requested)

Au 🌕| Fluff 🌙 | Male Reader 💙 | Request💫 | Scenario ✨

TW: Mentions of Alcohol

Genre: Dokyeom x male reader

Theme: Friends x lovers, Photographer x muse, A little bit of jealousy.

Rating Pg13

Word count: 2,482

Summary: after being invited to Dk's showing at a gallery the night takes an unexpected turn for the better.

Click, Click, Click the camera went as you posed for what seemed like the 13th time that day. You were currently in the middle of a photoshoot for a prominent magazine. Though you loved being a model you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t tired. The only thing that made this time worth it though is that you were being photographed by Dokyeom. You guys had been friends since college, and he was an amazing talent to say the lease.

“Can you please hold still I swear I have one more shot then you can go change and we’ll be done for the day.” He said.

He smiled at you the same as when you first met, and your heart began to flutter a little. See you had always had a little crush on Dk since orientation when he walked into your school’s auditorium and accidentally tripped on the last two steps. You wanted to go and help him up, but some girl had already beat you two it. The two of them seemed pretty chummy so you shrugged and found a seat next to your friend. You didn’t see him again after that until you became roommates during your second semester. You grew close pretty quickly and had been friends ever since. Soon he was done and you thanked him along with the other staff members as you went to your dressing room and changed.  Moments later as you reemerge you notice dk putting away the last of his equipment. Place your duffle bag on a near by stool you help him as he begins to disassemble the last soft box light.

“Thanks.” He said while rubbing his hands together.

“No problem be sides it looked kind of heavy.” You pointed out. You go to your bag and pull out a pack of fruit snacks offering him one. Accepting it he opens it and begins to consume its contents. “Hey, you know Josh is gonna be in town today if you want to have dinner with us.” He offered.

“Really that’s great I didn’t know he was back already I figured he was still in Korea working with that one company.”

“He was but I guess they wrapped up early, so he booked an earlier flight back to see family.” Dk stated.

“He gets in later tonight, so I won’t see him until after my exhibition at the gallery.

You nod at his statement before popping the last fruit snack in your mouth.

“Oh, that reminds me.” He states while reaching into his bag and pulling out a flyer.

“I’m having an exhibit of some of my work later and I wanted to know if you could come?” He asks sheepishly.

You take the flyer from his hand and examine its contents as happiness begins to fill you.

“Dude I’m so proud of you.” You state hugging him.

“Thanks, but it’s no big deal.” He says waving his hand dismissively.

“No big deal dude your work is going to be shown at one of the biggest galleries in the city it’s a huge deal.” You speak.

Dokyeom begins to feel sheepish as you continue to praise him. Though he was used to being praised strangers it always felt different when it came from the people, he was closest too.

“And to answer your question I would be honored to come support you on your big night.”  You declared.

The two of you exchange a bit more details before saying your goodbyes.

Later on, that evening you arrive to the gallery dressed in your best suit. The building is full of different people from the industry from other models to ceo’s and even a few producers. Life just seemed to pour from the building as you made your way inside. Soon you were met by a member of the wait staff who offered you a glass of champagne along with one of the many assorted cheeses that they had in rotation for the night. Accepting you thank them and make your way over to the first photograph that hanged in the corner of the gallery. You recognized it as the coffee shop that the two of you used to frequent while in college. However, instead of it’s warmth interior being present it seemed colder. Maybe because it was in black and white or possible because the shadow that is present in the center seemed to all but stand still as the people around it moved back and forth in the form of blurs. Either way you found yourself emersed in the piece.

“Enjoying the show?” a voice states pulling you from your trance.

Turning you notice the presents of a young man no more than maybe 28 years old standing next to you. “Oh yes very much how about you?” you inquire.

“I think the works are gorgeous Just like you.” He states wrapping his hand around his silver wristwatch.

He was gorgeous to say the least probably one of those nepo babies that you hear about all of the time. His outfit certainly seemed like it cost a lot. For a moment he catches you staring at him, and he turns away blushing a bit. Not wanting him to get the wrong idea you clear your throat before continuing trying to cut through the awkwardness.

“You know he’s a personal friend of mine the artist. We’ve been friends since college.” You mention trying your best to make small talk. The woman grins as she takes a step forward. “Well then maybe you could introduce us sometime.” she inquires.  “I mean besides if he must be a pretty great to have a friend as handsome as you.” She states before lightly placing a hand on your chest. You begin to feel a bit uncomfortable with the way the conversation is going so you decide to let her down as gently as possible. However, before you can Dk makes his way over to the two of you and takes your hand.

“Babe there you are I’ve been looking for you all night where have you been.” He questions. You are taken off guard by the name but welcome it along with the warm feeling that has formed in your chest. Briefly you look between the two before adjusting your tie a little and speaking up. “Sorry Kyeomie I just really wanted to see this picture that you took it so captivatingly beautiful.” You tell him.  He gives mutters a small thanks before placing a small peck on your cheek and turning back to the woman.

“Who is this?” He inquires. Blinking a few times, you bring yourself back to reality before continuing.  “Oh, this is...” you trail off before remembering that you never got her name.”

“I’m Mason … Mason Evington” he says shaking dk’s hand.

“Oh, that’s right your dad owns two of the biggest art galleries in the world.” He nods in agreement.

“I didn’t know you two were together. “He states as red creeps onto her face showcasing her embarrassment.

“it’s relatively new “dk states grabbing your hand and interlacing your fingers.  “Apologies I didn’t introduce myself I’m Dokyeom but everyone calls me Dk.” He states smiling wide. Realization sets in as He begins to recognize him as the artist. Noticing her error, the redness in her face darkens slightly.

 “I love your work. I think you have a great eye for details.” he tells him. Dk nods understandingly before he mutters a small thank you.

“Well, it was lovely to meet you but if you don’t mind, I’d like to barrow him from you show him some more of my work.” Dk proposes before leading you towards the back of the gallery.  Mason nods before biding you both goodbye and making her way to a different section of the gallery. For a moment the two of you walk around and look at the different photographs as you continue to mingle with all kinds of people. After a while you get used to having his hand in yours and for a moment you even allow yourself to dream of what life would be like if this moment were a bit more permanent. However, after a while you let go of Dk’s hand as he is talking to another photographer about a job that he did in Paris last spring. You find yourself wandering for a bit until you stumble upon a particular photograph. It was a picture of you that he took once when you were at the beach. You, however, were too busy helping baby turtles into the water for to notice him taking it.

“Here you are.” He stated placing his hands into his pockets. “You must really like this one.” He inquires.

“I didn’t even know you took it.” you stated. “it’s beautiful.”

“It’s you” he stated.  You both sat there for a moment drinking in the sight before you. After a while you speak up breaking the silence. “Thanks for earlier by the way.” You state turning towards him.

 “Yeah, no problem.” “You just looked kind of uncomfortable so I figured you could use some saving.” He shrugs. “Plus, I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Silence hangs there a little longer as dk’s words began to play over and over in your head.  However, your thoughts are interrupted as dk breaks the silence this time. “We should get going Joshua is supposed to be meeting us for dinner soon.” Nodding in agreement Dk thanks everyone for coming before the two of you make your way towards the exit.

For a while the two of you walk towards the restaurant as you recount many memories from college. After some time, the two of you make it to the restaurant just in time to be seated.  Through you had never been to this restaurant you found it quite fancy for a couple of friends just catching up.  The tables were draped in white floor length cloths while lights hanged from the ceiling.  On the table was a small tea light and a basket of bread. After being seated your waitress came back to take your drink orders. Deciding to wait for Joshua to order you both just end up ordering drinks from the bar before going back to your original topic of conversation. After while about 30 minutes had passed before Dk’s phone dinged.  Retrieving it from his pocket he unlocks it before examining the text message. Disappointment dresses his features briefly before he speaks.

“Looks like Josh’s plane got delayed by an hour, so he won’t make dinner, but he said that he’d call us tomorrow once he got settled.”  

Giving a small okay he puts his phone back in his pocket before calling the waitress back over and the two of you order. Sometime later you finish your meal and by this point you both are feeling a bit buzzed from your drinks. At this point You try to pay the check but dk objects stating that he should pay since dinner was initially his idea. However, you turn him down and take out your card stating that it’s his big night and to consider it a gift. Once the check is paid you both leave, and he begins to walk you home. As you are walking you somehow make it onto the topic of dating. He tells you how he only really had two serious relationships since college. Though you look at him in disbelief.

“You’re kidding right only two… Seriously?” you state in disbelief.

“Seriously.” he tells you as a rat makes its way through one of the many rain puddles on the ground.

“What about that girl from orientation or the one from that time we went to the beach?” You inquired.

“Okay first off that girl from orientation was gay and two the one from the beach wasn’t even my type.” He stated walking through another puddle.

“Oh, so mister man has a type I see.” You tease.

“What like you don’t?” he inquires.

“Oh, I have a type.” You state as the two of you make your way to your building.

Silence falls upon you for what seemed like the millionth time that evening.

“Well, this is me.” You state before making your way towards the door. However, before you make your way inside Dk mutters a small “Wait” Turing around you look at him while standing in your doorway. A frustrated sigh leaves his lips before he speaks again. “I haven’t been completely honest with you tonight.” He states shoving his hands in his pockets.

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

He takes a moment to compose his thoughts before taking a deep breath and continuing.

“I genuinely don’t know why my brain just goes blank when I look at you. I think I’m going a little crazy.” He admits.

You stare at him in confusion waiting for him to continue.

“Earlier tonight when we were at my showing, and I came over to you and that guy.”  You nod in response remembering the awkward interaction. “Well, I didn’t do it as a concerned friend I was actually kind of well… jealous a little.” He said truthfully.

You go to speak but he cuts you off.

“Admittedly if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve had feelings for you since that day at the beach.”

You take a moment letting his words soak in as you heart begins to pick up speed. Though this moment is all that you wanted for the past couple of years you never imagined it would happen like this.

“Why didn’t you say something then?”

“I figured you didn’t feel the same.” He shrugged.  “Plus, you were spending so much time with Mingyu I just assumed that-.”

“That I was into him.” You finished. He nods as his eyes become doughy.

For a moment you tilt your head toward the ground before a light chuckle escapes your lips.

“Mingyu was my partner but not in that way.” You tell him while meeting his gaze.

“He was assigned to be a model for my figure drawing class that’s why we spent so much time together that semester.”

Feeling a little embarrassed at his assumption Dk places his hand on his neck rubbing it slightly.

Placing your hand on his face his eyes meet yours. “And for the record I had feelings for you ever since I saw you trip at orientation.” You mention. A smile makes its way to Dokyeoms face as his hand met yours.

 “I only tripped because I was trying to capture a picture of you.”  He sheepishly admits.

The both of you chuckle a little before closing the gap between you. Shortly after you pull apart before dk takes the chance to speak up once again.

“I guess you could say you’ve always been my muse.”

Request are open

[bradshawsbitch]

white christmas | bradley bradshaw x f!reader

this is my contribution to @notroosterbradshaw 's #hello december playlist challenge! my song was 'white christmas' by bing crosby - so feel free to listen to that to get in the mood!

what to expect in this fic: Bradley couldn't remember the last time he hadn't spent Christmas on some type of naval base. After all, he figured it would be better to work through the holiday than sit all on his lonesome. Lucky for him, his girlfriend of two years has other plans this Christmas. You can expect northern lights, snow lanterns, a little good ol' whimsical fun in the Swedish wilderness!

warnings: afab!reader, she/her pronouns, christmas content, santa clause, reindeers, foreign countries (if you're not swedish), mentions of ditching a plane, mentions of security measures on planes (listen, I couldn't help myself. I used to be a flight attendant), mentions of alcohol, l-bombs, random information about swedish christmas tradition, fluff, whimsical stuff.

disclaimer: this was such a fun challenge! and I went a little self indulgent and figured I'd teach y'all some swedish christmas fun! I added some links along the way to help visualize some Swedish stuff that people perhaps have not encountered before. enjoy!

Bradley was sat by the window seat of the Airbus A330 from Chicago. Glancing over to his side, your head had already settled on his soft, hoodie-clad shoulder. During your previous flight from LAX (in a smaller Boeing 737-900), you’d been granted the window seat. On this longer flight though, Bradley had offered to sit by the emergency exit over the wing.

The flight attendant had looked so relieved it was almost comical. They were always surveying their passengers, and he was grateful that they took the extra step to make sure able bodied and stronger looking people were sat at the emergency exits should they need to evacuate. 

His girlfriend had given him a small smirk as he’d sat down at the emergency exit seat, and he could tell she was about to tease him light-heartedly. “Oh, I’m a pilot,” you’d giggled, soothing your words with a soft kiss to his shoulder. Bradley had only offered you a smile back, and as he felt the aircraft vibrate for takeoff, he’d smirked and decided to annoy you further, leaning over, letting his lips ghost by your ear as he murmured:

“V1,” as the aircraft hurtled by the last safe speed for which the runway would allow it to stop in case of engine failure or error

“Rotate,” he continued, right as the nose rotated and started it’s ascent, mimicking the words currently spoken in the cockpit by the first and second pilot. He’d snickered as you rolled your eyes, muttering “Show-off,” before turning to read your book. That had been at the beginning of your twelve hour flight, which was now soon coming to its’ close - with you snoozing softly on his shoulder.

He glanced over to the other emergency exit across from him, where a woman in her late 40’s sat with a crossword. Bradley had heard her tell the attendants that she too worked as a crew member, and was very familiar with the procedure should they need to make an emergency landing, or ditch.

Just the thought of ditching this enormous plane made him shudder. He was quite glad that he’d never attempt it in his jets. More often than not, even with a bigger, slower flying aircraft, landing on water was tricky. If the water was rough, a bigger aircraft like this sometimes broke off in the middle. It wasn’t impossible though, and he spent a good 5 minutes thinking of successful ditchings before kissing the top of your head, inhaling the sweet scent - one that instantly brought him peace and comfort. The rest of your flight to Stockholm Arlanda airport was uneventful, some turbulence here and there but it was to be expected.

As Bradley took in the sight of you snoozing on his shoulder, he couldn’t help but smile. Bradley hadn’t asked for leave from work over the holidays since he’d joined the Navy. There was never a reason for him to be home over Christmas, and most years he’d actually ask if there was any available work for him, just so that he’d have something to do on what most would consider one of the more cheerful days of the year. The exception had been last holiday, when you’d asked him if he wanted to come around for dinner with your parents to celebrate Christmas; the year before that your relationship had been relatively new, and you’d exchanged gifts on the 26th instead. 

So, last New Years, after a few too many drinks - Bradley had confided in you his secret of having worked during the holidays since his early twenties - and that he’d often been stationed somewhere there really wasn’t any snow, and how he really wished for one of those White Christmases that you saw on TV. Bradley would be the first to admit he got sappy when drunk, but your response had been so sweet - promising him a white Christmas next year, and he was almost sure he heard you swear that he’d never have to spend Christmas alone again.

And so, a few days into the new year, the two of you had begun to plan the journey you were currently on. A journey that would take you deep into the Swedish snow, up in the north where a small village called Jukkasjärvi lay. You’d decided upon it together, both agreeing that staying a night in the iconic ice hotel was a sure thing for the Christmas bucket list.

Bradley knew his girlfriend had spent the entire year researching everything Christmas-related in Sweden, and he also knew she was dying to tell him every single thing she’d found. The two of them had scoured the internet for fun things to try whilst in Sweden, and they’d narrowed it down to a list they figured they would manage during their two week stay. 

The first week was for exploring, experiencing their bucket list, and lastly, Christmas. The second week would be for lounging, relaxing and just generally enjoying each other’s company in the wooden cabin they had booked for themselves for the second week. Bradley had insisted on one of the cabins that had a sauna, because he desperately felt he’d need one in the cold climate.

You had teased him, asking him if he knew that it was tradition in the northern countries to sauna in the nude, and then roll in the snow in between sessions. He told you promptly that he did not know that. It sounded almost like a torture tactic. After he’d told you so, you’d forgone telling him about the use of smaller tree branches as whisks to whip against your back. He wasn’t ready for that information yet, you’d decided.

As you successfully landed at Arlanda airport, the two of you sleepily made your way underground for the next part of your travel itinerary. You’d decided that you might as well take the night train to Jukkasjärvi as soon as you’d landed, and you’d only have to switch to a bus when you made it to Kiruna, a town that lay only 30 minutes away from your final destination.

Getting comfortable in the bunk bed you’d booked, Bradley smiled as you snuggled up against his chest and fell fast asleep. Bradley, however, found himself too excited to let sleep grasp at his consciousness just now. He was spellbound as his eyes gazed out at the gray night sky, already seeing thick snowflakes falling around the moving train. But soon, the warmth of your body, the gentle rocking of the train, and the flurry of snow outside the window of the compartment had him lulled to sleep. 

Bradley was fucking freezing. Of course, he had anticipated that the Northernmost cities or villages of Sweden would be cold, but this was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. He was surprised to find he liked it. It kept his head surprisingly clear as he inhaled the icy air.

He was suddenly glad the two of you had researched extensively what type of gear you’d need to sleep in a hotel made of snow and ice, because his wool thermal underwear, his fleece midlayer, his balaclava, warm hat and mittens kept his body sufficiently warm in the coveralls the ice hotel had provided you. 

He snuck a peek at you, where you stood, enraptured by the guide that had welcomed you. The guide had first informed you that the temperature was about -15 degrees celsius, which meant that it was roughly 5 degrees fahrenheit. The guide then started telling you about the Polar nights, or as they called it, mid winter nights “Oh my god, Bradley that sounds magical” you whispered to him, your voice laced with an endearing amount of excitement.

He smiled down at you and squeezed you close to his side to show he was excited too. The polar nights were a period of time in Lapland where the sun never dared to show itself, the guide expressed, and the only light they got were two hours near noon that they called “blue hours”, when the night sky turned a little lighter blue, and the white snow reflected that soft light to make it illuminate the nature just a little bit. Your eyes were twinkling excitedly, and Bradley thought he might not have seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

You were looking up at him, giggling softly as the hot breath made wisps of smoke appear in the cold air. “You have ice in your mustache, Roos,” you murmured, in awe of the fact that almost every single individual hair of his mustache had ice crystals on them, on the bottom from the moisture of his lips, and the top from where he exhaled warm air onto it.

Rooster was pretty sure he could feel the hairs in his nostrils freezing as he inhaled - it was a weird sensation, but something he got used to surprisingly quickly. “Yeah, well your eyelashes are icy too,” he mumbled with a quick smile before nudging your side, to make you turn your attention back to the guide. 

The guide was smiling at the two of you, explaining how the inside of the ice suites were actually about -5 to -7 celsius due to the insulation that the snow and ice provided (Bradley thought that sounded like a contradiction if he ever heard one), which was about 19 degrees fahrenheit.

As the tour ended, the two of you made your way into the hotel. Bradley was blown away at the detail with which the artists had sculpted ice to look like art. He could hardly voice how in awe he was, which caused him to just gape and stare at the interior. You, on the other hand, were ohh-ing and ahh-ing and pulling on his hand to drag him further in to explore the ice bar, and the ice church. The two of you shared a very cold drink in one of the bars icen glasses, giggling and sharing an excited kiss over the first drink of the night. 

“Happy holidays, Bradley” you sighed happily, leaning your body into him. Bradley was used to having you close, so the distance your thick clothing provided had him whining softly at not being able to have you closer to him.

“Happy holidays, my love. This is already above and beyond any of my wildest dreams right now,” Bradley confessed into your beanie clad head, pressing a soft kiss to the fabric, hoping you felt the sentiment of it. It seemed you did, since you offered him a breathtaking smile that had his heart doing double time somewhere under all his layers of clothing. 

“We can’t forget to watch for the northern lights tonight!” you reminded him softly, sipping on your drink. He shook his head, smiling at your eager tone. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart,” he had listened to your calculations, and the general knowledge you’d picked up about the aurora borealis, and he hoped you’d get to experience one tonight. 

After a chilly night in the ice suite, you spent the rest of the week in your booked warm hotel room, enjoying fancy dinners during the evenings (which, admittedly, didn't always feel like evenings due to the almost constant darkness), treating yourselves to glasses of prosecco and wine. Giggling with each other in the room beforehand as you dressed up fancy. Bradley alternated between slacks and a button-up, and full blown suits. A favorite of yours was his navy blue one, that he wore tonight, on the 22nd of December. 

“Have I told you that you look gorgeous in this?” you said, voice a low murmur as you slung your arm around his neck in the elevator on the way to the dining hall.

“Nope,” Rooster smirked, dropping down to give you a breathtaking kiss “But thank you, sweets. You look real handsome,” he teased, noticing that you referred to him as the endearment he most used for you - ‘gorgeous’, switching up the endearment to the one you most used for him - ‘handsome’. But he’d have likened your look to ‘beautiful’ in all reality, because that’s what he could best describe your deep green attire, hair and makeup all done up and pretty. 

As you sat down to eat, you figured you’d go over the plans you had for the morning. Bradley had been looking forward to this one all year. You’d booked to go sledding, to see the reindeer farm located on the native Swedish land.

Bradley and you had spent countless hours searching for the perfect place to be able to interact with the reindeer, and the perfect opportunity seemed to be close enough, with a museum of the Sàmi customs and cuisine, which gave you a two for one experience - culture and some good old fashioned Christmas experiences. 

“What if we see Santa?” you exclaimed excitedly as you raised your glass to your lips. “Why would you say that?” Rooster furrowed his brows, feeling like he might’ve missed something important here

“Roos, he lives here!” his girlfriend exclaimed, as if mortally wounded that he did not know that Santa Clause resided in Jukkasjärvi. “I thought he lived on the North Pole?” Bradley laughed, and you shook your head vehemently “No, babe. The Swedes insist he lives here, in Lapland. Of course, I saw some forums argue he lives in Finland - but I choose to believe he lives here. Wouldn’t it be great if we saw actual Santa?” 

Bradley could only smile at your satisfied smile over the rim of your champagne glass, a determined twinkle in your eyes. He loved the fact that you were kind of whimsical, trying to make this a real White Christmas for him to remember - and he couldn’t exactly help that it made his heart grow three sizes. 

“And how is it that you know this then?” Rooster inquired, smiling softly as you took a bite of your meal. He had an inkling that you’d gone all in for the research, to surprise him with fun facts during your trip. Your bashful smile confirmed his suspicions. 

“Well, I might have read up on Swedish Christmas traditions - wouldn’t it be fun to follow them? I’ve even booked their Christmas smörgåsbord!” Bradley couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh at the excited sparkle that hid beneath your lashes, his chest filling with warmth for his girlfriend again. “There’s a Christmas smörgåsbord? Is that tradition?” he inquired curiously.

“Yup! There sure is. They have small sausages, meatballs, of course, and a ham that they eat with sweet mustard - and some weird pickled herring. I’m a bit wary of those, but we have to be brave, Bradley. We have to show the vikings we’re one of them,” your soft giggle mingled with his laughter, as the soft voice of Bing Crosby meandered through the dining hall, singing about White Christmas as the snow fell peacefully outside of the window. 

“Is that on the 25th, then?” you shook your head no, “Swedish folk celebrate Christmas on the 24th. Which makes sense if Santa lives here! He’ll do these countries first, and then come to us. I knew that man couldn’t possibly do the whole world in one day!”

As dessert was served, and your glasses began to empty, the two of you were feeling giggly, sleepy and all around filled with warmth and Christmas cheer. As you stood up after having paid, Rooster wrapped a large arm around your frame, pulling you into his chest to place a lingering kiss on the top of your head. “This was one of the best ideas we’ve ever had, darling,” he murmured, placing a couple of more kisses against your temple as you slowly made your way up to your room.

Cold, biting air nipped at Roosters cheeks as the sleigh moved forwards in the snow. It was a clear sky today, which heightened the chance to see the auroras considerably, you’d told him happily after the two of you enjoyed a lengthy breakfast together. You’d made Bradley try some Swedish spread called ‘kaviar’ to which he retched for a good three minutes, before he swore revenge upon you, making you giggle as he pretended to glare at you. 

Bells were softly jingling as the large horses trotted along the small streets through the tiny village, headed towards the snow clad boreal forest. Bradley was squinting to see the houses that lined the streets. Some of them had snowmen and women in their front yards, but many of them had weird, cone shaped little snow buildings by the entrance to their homes.

He furrowed his brows, pointing with a mittened hand in the direction of one before he asked out loud “What are those little lit up things? Are those made of snow?” he watched as you turned your head to inspect them too, before the driver of the carriage half turned and smiled. 

“Those are snow lanterns,” he spoke, before gently saying something in Swedish to one of the horses to calm it before continuing “they’re made out of snow. Mostly children will make them by making snowballs, and arranging them in a cone shape. Their parents will then put a candle in the cone as the dark falls, and it works as a pretty lantern the children can watch from their windows before they go to sleep. Some parents tell their children that’s how Santa will find their houses.”

Bradley thought to himself that if he ever had any children, he’d make snow lanterns with them to make sure Santa and his reindeers found his house. The smallest stitch of sorrow settled deep within his chest, before he caught sight of your face - looking as enamored as he was by the idea of snow lanterns. 

“Maybe we could make one later?” Bradley told you softly, smiling down at your bundled up form. “Sadly, the snow is too dry to form anything. They must’ve made these earlier in the year, when the snow was still wet.” the driver said before turning around completely to steer the horses into a narrow path in the woods. At this, your face lit up, and Rooster could tell that that was something you had read up on.

“Roos, did you know that the native people of Sweden are said to have about one hundred different lexical words for snow? Like the quality of snow matters!” you looked so beautiful like this. The soft light of the day, the crystal white and sparkling snow whirling all around your face, cheeks cold and eyelashes frosted. He had to take a deep breath to settle himself, a lopsided, goofy smile on his face. “Is that so? What type of snow is this then?” 

“Well, seeing as it’s so cold, I’d say this is probably the powdery sort. The kind that when you throw it at someone, it just dusts away in the wind. I would guess that to make snowmen and snow lanterns, you’d need the heavier, wetter kind that falls in the beginning of the season, when it’s not below freezing,” you surmised, and Bradley just chuckled, ruffling your hat on your head “That’s my smart girl!”

As you approached the reindeer farm, Bradley could practically feel you vibrating with excitement beside him, and as the sled came to a stop, Bradley jumped down, offering his mitten clad hands out to you to help you down.

His heart stuttered a bit at the breathtaking smile that had formed on your lips, and he opted to seize you by the waist, lifting you down instead. Your happy peal of laughter as he spun you once, made a large grin appear on his lips as well. “Hi, baby,” he murmured, as your arms snaked around his neck, leaning down to peck his lips lovingly before he let you down. 

The afternoon on the 23rd was spent petting and feeding the reindeer, cooing over how absolutely sweet and adorable they were, eating candied almonds you bought (and learning they were popular here during Christmas), had a glass of mulled wine each with almonds and raisins in it, and learning about native Swedish customs and culture. As the two of you meandered towards the end of the little market they had put up, suddenly Bradley heard his girlfriend suck in a heavy gasp.

“Bradley!” you whisper-screamed, jumping up and down whilst pointing towards the thicker forest a bit away.

There, between the thick cover of pine trees, a soft gold light was moving slowly in the thick snow. Bradley furrowed his brows, staring more intently as he caught a glimmer of red flashing in the soft light.

“Oh my God, Roos!” your voice was borderline hysteric with unbridled, childish excitement, and Bradley himself couldn’t help but feel somewhat the same way as you. There, in the woods, was undoubtedly a man, who was quite large - his thick white beard decidedly not a fake one.

One of the reindeer close to you, heard the ruffle of movement and it snapped its head around to look at the man. It slowly turned and started walking towards the man, and both yours and Bradleys’ jaw dropped as you faintly saw the man chuckling, a small piece of parchment sticking out of one of his deep, worn pockets. 

Bradley hardly wanted to blink, but he had to gauge your reaction - were you seeing this!? Were his eyes deceiving him? But no, as he looked at you, the same stunned, wondrous facial expression was on your face as well. “Baby…” Bradley said incredulously, and when his gaze returned to the spot where he’d seen the man and the reindeer - they were gone.

“Was that…?” Bradley started, and you only nodded mutely, completely flabbergasted at what you’d just witnessed. “I need a moment,” you told your boyfriend and he nodded, only letting one small laugh escape his lips as he shook his head - a new found twinkle shining in his amber eyes as the two of you ordered a cup of hot chocolate, Bradley opting to have the smiling girl clad in a Gákti (a traditional dress for the Sàmi) fill his cup with a minty liquor as well. 

As the two of you sat in the carriage on the way home, silence stretching through the darkness of the night, the moon illuminating the snow enough so that every single detail of the landscape was still dimly visible, you finally spoke.

“That was the real Santa Clause, wasn’t it?” your voice sounded revered, and serious. “I am so fucking sure that that was the real Santa, didn’t you see the reindeer approach him!?” Bradley could barely contain his mirth “Shh, Bradley! No swearing!! He’ll know!” you hissed before triumphantly saying “I told you he lived here!”

“Oh, fuck! Shit, I mean–” he laughed at himself “I won’t swear anymore,” before silence fell between the two of you. However, the night wasn’t completely silent anymore. Aside from the soft noises from the horses, and the bells jingling softly, a peculiar sound met their ears.

The driver smiled softly “I believe we’ll see some northern lights soon,” you gasped softly at the drivers words “Oh my god, I read that some people can hear the auroras,” and as soon as the words were out of your mouth, the sky exploded in shades of green, blue and at some spots violet as well.

The sharp intake of air from you was the only thing filling the night, except for a peculiar crackling sound. It was so overwhelming, seeing the lights dance slowly across the expanse of the night sky. Bradley had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life, and as the sled slowly came to a stop, he noticed that his tears had already frozen on his cheeks. 

When you’d admired the aurora in awed silence for a few minutes, the driver softly had the horses come to a walk again, sensing that staying still for any longer would have them freeze. However, the lights were still slowly dancing back and forth over the skies, and Bradley was sure he’d have a kink in his neck from the way he couldn’t bear to rip his gaze away from this phenomena.

All at once, Bradley could understand why the Sàmi, and natives in his own home country might believe that a higher being was sending them omens through the lights. They were breathtaking, and if he hadn’t known the science behind the lights - he was pretty sure he too would believe that they were otherworldly. Perhaps he’d choose to believe they were either way. 

The two of you reached your room, drawing a hot bath before peeling your clothes off. When you’d warmed up a little, the two of you chattered excitedly about what you’d experienced that day - arguing over who had been the nicest this year.

“Listen, I am one hundred percent sure Santa saw me give Hangman the last piece of the birthday cake earlier this year!”

“Bradley, that was his birthday cake!” 

“So then it was pretty nice of me to let him have it, right?”

Waking up on the 24th, Rooster nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as you slowly came to consciousness. “Merry Christmas, Roos,” your soft voice had a sleepy hint to it as your fingers carded through his slightly longer locks.

“Merry Christmas, love of my life,” Bradley sighed happily, placing soft kisses to your exposed neck as his arms wound tight around your midsection. The two of you lay wrapped in each others embrace for a big part of the morning, before exchanging a single gift with each other. 

Later that day, you joined the other residents in eating a Christmas smörgåsbord, listening to Christmas songs, and lastly, dancing around the large tree that sat in the lobby. Drinking Christmas ale, mulled wine and sparkling cider. It was the best Christmas Bradley had had for years, and as the jolly type of music wound down to a beautiful Swedish rendition of ‘O Holy Night’ transitioned into ‘White Christmas’, Bradley once again embraced you, swirling you around in a slow dance.

His lips found yours in a kiss that felt as if the northern lights had exploded within the two of you, and were dancing merrily between you.

“Thank you,” Bradley murmured against your lips “for giving me the best Christmas of my life,” he continued, pulling back to admire your beautiful, twinkling eyes.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand before resting your cheek on his sweater clad chest, swaying softly to the tune of the beautiful song that rang out in the winter night.

a/n: ahhh!!! I hope you guys liked this one! I added links to give a visual to things that not everyone knows of or has seen before. I hope it wasn't distracting! Please let me know what you thought of this whimsical little fun fic! <3 lots of love to those who don't celebrate christmas, or have a hard time with christmas as well - I love you so much<3

[alisonwritesimagines]

Teacher Love ~Steven Grant Imagine~

Requested by anonymous:

Steven Grant x gn reader, Steven being history professor (preferably in hs/middle school, he would be great with kids I just know it), reader showing up in his class, unannounced, Steven continuing to teach and at the end of the class, reader asks him out or tells him to get ready for some fancy suprise or something.

Summary: The students in the school you and Steven work at have a bet to see if you and Steven get together.

Author’s Note: For a limited time only, I'm accepting requests until January 30th!

Reader’s Pronouns: They/Them

Warnings: Fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of students, mentions of working at a school

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

The students at the high school both you and Steven Grant worked at has always favored you both. And there were many reasons to why.

You were a great English teacher who always had some good jokes and understood that being a teen was rough. You also helped out each student and encouraged them to at least get a good or passing grade.

And there was Steven. A history teacher who had a devotion for mythology. Especially Egyptian mythology. But everyone loved how he taught them and how he was patient with them.

However, it wasn't until the students began to see you two eat in each other's rooms during lunch time. Rotating at least every week. Then they noticed how you two would always sit next to each other in every assembling and every pep rally they would go to. Then it finally came to when a group of students saw you both out at a bookstore together looking a little more friendly.

"I have a question," one of your students asked one day after school.

"Okay. What is it?" You asked, stopping your grading. You smiled up at your student as you looked at them.

"Are you and Mr. Grant a thing?" Your student asked.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused.

"Sorry, it's just- You two always seem close and most of us would love to see you two get together. I mean, in a way, we ship you two," your student explains.

"Ship?"

"Yeah. Kinda like how most of us ship Gatsby and Nick in The Great Gatsby," your student explains further.

"Well, in all honesty, my personal life should remain personal to me," you tell your student.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Just remember that some people prefer to have their lives private for their own comfort," you tell them.

"Sorry. But also, can you take a look at my essay and see if I'm going in the right track?" Your student asked.

"Of course."

The next day, you told Steven about your interaction with your student. The two of you sat in your classroom as you both ate lunch together. Sometimes, you would make a little dessert for you both and sometimes, Steven would have lunch for you both to eat together.

"What does that mean? Ship? Isn't that a large boat?" Steven asked you.

"It is but I believe it's a slang now for the younger generation. It means that they like us together," you explain.

"Interesting," Steven said as he continued to eat his food.

"Yeah. But the students mean well right?" You asked.

"Yeah. Of course."

After work, you were with one of your other teacher friends as you two were helping each other get a plan ready for your next book assignments.

"So get this, our students ship me and Steven. Isn't that funny?" You asked.

"No. Because everyone can see it. You two really like each other," she tells you.

"What are you talking about?"

"We all see the way you two look at each other," she tells you.

"What do you mean?"

"You two are so oblivious. Look, remember when that one guy asked you out and you declined him?"

"Yes."

"Why did you decline him? It was very obvious he was into you and he was perfect."

"I just wasn't interested."

"Because he wasn't Steven. You know most of your conversations are about what you and Steven do," she mentions.

When you got home, you thought about on what she said. Did you like Steven but is oblivious to your feelings? You looked around at your apartment to see the things that you had out that were gifts from Steven. Your eyes widen in shock as you realized that you did like Steven.

Friday rolled around and you knew what you wanted to do. You didn't have a sixth period or a class before the school day ended. So you slipped into Steven's classroom where he was teaching about the aftermath of World War II. Steven looked at you before looking back at his students.

"Read pages 301 to 305 for a moment please," Steven said before walking over to you.

"Is everything okay?" Steven asked you.

"Yes. I was just wondering if I can watch you and your class till the end?" You asked.

"Of course. Do you want to sit at my desk?" Steven asked you.

"Yes. Thank you," you smiled.

You watched as Steven continue to teach until the bell rung. You waved at some of your students that you had in your class as they walked out of the room. Once you both were alone, you stood up from the table.

"What do I owe the pleasure?" Steven asked you.

"Well, Mr. Grant. I was hoping you can accompany me on a date tonight?" You asked.

"A-A date?" Steven asked in shock. He could feel his heart racing and he could feel himself grow slightly dizzy.

Steven couldn't believe that the person he had been falling in love with everyday, was asking him out on a date.

"Yes. I know this restaurant that has a good vegan menu selection," you tell him.

"I-I would live that," Steven tells you. You smiled at him before kissing his cheek.

"Dress semi-formal. We're going on a date after all," you tell him.

"Of course," Steven smiled happily at you.

Unknowingly, when you walked out of his classroom, your students were around the corner, trying to see if there was any difference after you walked out.

"They're definitely going on a date," one of the students said as they watched you walk away happily.

"Where do you think they're going?"

"Probably somewhere vegan. Remember, Mr. Grant's vegan," one of them pointed out.

"Should we follow them? I'm in the rooting-for-them bet pool and I could get about twenty bucks from ten people each," another student said.

"No. We'll find out on Monday. Come on. My mom's waiting in the car."

[giatreagapite]

#DR VERITAS RATIO

A heavily headcanon-driven, canon-divergent, and independent portrayal of Dr. Ratio from Honkai: Star Rail.

| DR. RATIO

[ Age ]

Early-mid 30s

[ Pronouns ]

He/him, They/them, Star/starred, Luna/lune, Dawn/dusk [ Transmasc Nonbinary/Demimale ]

[ Sexuality ]

Bisexual (masc lean)

Note: This portrayal depicts a Dr. Ratio with Halovian features! Specifically, an artificial Halovian with Eurasian Eagle-Owl features (including the ear tufts), but excluding the halo. He also has psychic abilities, but they are rather basic and minor. (You may ask admin or the character itself as to how this happened)

| ADMIN

Hi!! Call me Dango, Apollo, or Hermes! My writer tag is going to be “🍡.” I am 15 and can do lengthy writings, but often, I will do short crack posts for the fun of it! My timezone is UTC+8 and my pronouns are he/they/lune/moon/star. I also do art commissions!! See @thedangoratio (my main/art account) for info on that

| TAGS

#ratios mail = ask responses

#pride comes before a fall = solos

#mundanity of life = open starters

#dango the admin = admin posts

[ This section will be updated periodically ]

| HEADCANONS

| Visual headcanons

| Ratio’s Cats

Dr. Ratio lives alone and loves animals dearly, so he’s often fostered lost cats he meets outside and cares for them as much as he can, fighting loneliness with them in return. He has gotten attached to many, so.. That’s why he has at least 10 adopted cats and 3 critters (the cat cakes).

The cats

Eurydice

Orpheus

Ethos

Logos

Pathos

Prometheus

Epimetheus

Rhiney

Achilles

Patroclus

The critters

Sesame Cake

Lambda’s Friend

Trash Cake

| Headcanoned Lore

Dr. Ratio was a medical doctor at one point of his life, when he first graduated from university. Though, he quit after the number of patients that died in his care had reached over 10 in total over the course of a 17 year long career (including residency) at 26 years old.

Dr. Ratio hails from the planet Amphoreus, The Eternal Land. (Until proven otherwise)

Dr. Ratio is a lightweight, having never touched alcohol until 1 night when he was 26. He hasn’t had a drop since then.

[ MTBA ]

| Miscellaneous

Dr. Ratio has been known to carry a few peculiar behaviors that are notably “owl-like”, as his students say, such as being able to rotate his head over his shoulder much more than the average person and displaying a wider gaze when presented with a topic of special interest.

Dr. Ratio is also known to exclaim with peculiar (again) noises when caught off guard. Such noises are those of a rubber duck when he is poked or squeezed spontaneously, a purring sound when comfortably sleeping, and an owl’s low “hoo” when called for (again) spontaneously.

Dr. Ratio owns a wide collection of rubber ducks in many designs, sizes and colors, each with a backstory of how he acquired them and often extremely long and.. Interesting names. Veritas can go on for hours about each one. He also collects stationary, but not as seriously.

Dr. Ratio made the marble statues used in his technique himself, a result of his stone masonry hobby. He also has a few black and white practice self portraits in the charcoal medium.

Dr. Ratio frequently collects hair accessories and rings, maintaining a wide collection of these in his bedroom. Yes, he is open to sharing the hair accessories with those he befriends.