#gotta get that based reader engagement

[amnxp]

Hold me, please

Pairing: Joaquin x semi!avenger!reader (not really an avenger but reader does fight and is in a fight scene here)

Warnings: a looooooot of angst, brief fight scenes, some fluff, at the begining, open ending (bc i might make a part 2 if someone is interested), brutal injuries, gore, and also reader is not doing well mentally with Joaquins last mission

Word count: 2k

Summary: You get hurt on a mission that was supposed to be Joaquin‘s. Arguments start, words are said that cannot be taken back. What ever to do now?

A/N: I think my next few posts will be joaquin based but i will def throw in some jason todd fics! Also thank you so much for all the love Forget me Not got! All likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated and i have seen all!:)) As a thank you have a waaaaayyy longer Joaquin Fanfic. I hope you enjoy it<3

Pt.2

You feel him long before you see him.

A small smile grows onto your face as his goatee scratches and tickles your neck while he places kisses along your jaw. You had forced Joaquin a few weeks ago to let his beard grow in because you found him more attractive with it, and although he was reluctant at first—because he didn’t want Sam making fun of him—he very quickly learned that it indeed made you way more attracted to him. You open your eyes and turn around in his arms so that your face is pressed against his chest, one of your hands cradling the back of his neck.

"You smell really good, Joaquin," you murmur, placing a kiss on his Adam’s apple. You feel him shudder around you. “I was wearing that new cologne you got me yesterday,” he replies, his voice still thick with sleep. “Seems like it stuck.“

A low hum leaves you as you feel yourself slipping back into sleep.

"No, baby. We need to get up. It's late, and I gotta go meet Sam and Bucky." "Do you have a new mission? You just got out of the hospital, Joaquin. I don’t want you out there for at least two more weeks.". You sit up in bed, your back meeting the headboard. Joaquin leans on his side, propping himself up with one hand as he looks up at you with a goofy, shit-eating grin, chuckling.

"No, not a mission. Just a quick debrief of their last mission, and they wanted me to surveil an attack. I won’t engage at all, and I will be far, far, far away from any danger. I promise.". Every "far" is followed by a soft kiss on your chest, just above your heart.

You let out a sharp sigh and look away. Ever since his brush with death, you’ve been anxious, doting on him, taking care of him—you don’t want him out there anymore. You knew who he was, and you knew all the dangers that came with his job. You yourself would help them out here and there on their missions, but you would never call yourself an Avenger, a hero, or anything of the sort. And you certainly had never experienced such grave injuries before.

They had to restart his heart. He was gone. His heart—the one that holds so much love and so much joy—had stopped, and—

"Stop that." "I'm not doing anything." "You’re thinking too much about this. I won’t be near any danger, and after this, I won’t be asked to do anything for a month." He pulls himself from under the covers and makes his way to the bathroom, leaving you no room to start an argument.

As you stand up to get yourself something to eat, your phone begins to ring. It’s Sam. You pick up on the third ring.

"Hey, Sam." "Where are you? Is Joaquin with you?" You furrow your brows in worry at his tone. "No, he's in the bathroom. It's just me. What happened, Sam?" "We need you for a mission, but Joaquin can’t know." "Is it the mission that he’s surveilling? How exactly do you want him not to know, Sam?" "It’s a ruse." "A ruse? Am I your jack-in-the-box? Sam, just because Joaquin is on a break doesn’t mean you can go searching for others to just throw themselves headfirst into—" "I’m not asking."

"…Excuse me?"

"It is either you or Joaquin. And I wouldn’t have asked if this wasn’t absolutely necessary. Figure it out." Before you can even formulate a sentence in your head, he has already hung up.

A minute later, you receive a text from Sam—coordinates, most likely where the mission is supposed to take place.

You exhale deeply through your nose before moving to the kitchen. Breakfast is bland, unsatisfying. A little while later, Joaquin steps out of the shower, fresh and clean, already dressed. He grabs some fruit, kisses the top of your head, and bids you goodbye.

For a few minutes after Joaquin‘s departure, you stare at the kitchen wall. No sound, no movement, just the weight of your own heavy breathing. The more you think about Sam and his mission, the more you feel yourself stress. Your left ear starts ringing heavily as your head starta to sway. The harsh ringing of your phone yanks you out, and you quickly pick it up.

"I’ll be there in ten, Sam."

"Does Joaquin know? He just arrived and seems a bit skittish."

"No, I didn’t tell him anything, Sam. Can you keep an eye on him? At least until I’m in?"

"You got it. And thank you, for doing this."

———

It was supposed to be quick.

In and out. Grab the damn papers, throw anybody down who tried to get them, and get out before you get caught. And don’t kill anybody. That was what Sam and Bucky had told you.

Sam had even given you a headset to stay connected to Bucky as he stayed behind with Joaquin to surveil you and keep him off the radar. About five minutes in, your headset was crushed when one of the workers in the facility tried to bash your head into the wall. Small shards and sharp pieces of the headset pierced the side of your head, leaving behind a deep cut just beneath your eye. Your ear was ringing again, and you could practically feel Sam start to panic.

It took you two elongated hours before you finally saw the front door cleared. You had been stabbed in your abdomen, and your hand—although pierced to bits as well—pressed onto your wound as best as you could. The other hand grasped the papers tightly in case anybody tried to rip them out again.

But as you made your way to the door, your legs gave out from just beneath you and— Damn it.

Everything went black.

Damn Sam and this stupid superhero bullshit.

…

You hear frantic voices, someone yelling for help. Two warm hands cradle your face, thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles against your cheeks. "Mi cielo my sky, don’t do this here. Please, please, please. I’m sorry. I know it hurts. Baby, don’t you love me? You can’t leave me alone, please, baby."

That was all you had gotten before your body blacked out again.

---

The next time your body wakes again, your eyes open first. A bright, strong white light almost blinds you with its intensity, and it does nothing to help the blaring headache pounding away at your skull. As you move your head to the side, you spot Joaquin. He looks tired—eyebags under his eyes more prominent, his beard unkempt and grown thicker than the last time you saw him. His hand holds tightly onto yours. You try to speak, to move, to give him any sign that you’re awake, but you’re far too exhausted. Instead, you just hope he realizes it on his own.

The door swings open, and Sam and Bucky enter. Sam holds a large bouquet of flowers in his hands, while Bucky—who doesn’t look much better than you imagine you do—just stands idly by.

"How ya doin’, kid?" Sam places the flowers on the nightstand next to your bed. You let out a sigh and open your mouth to try and speak, but before you get the chance, Joaquin already startled awake.

"How long has she been awake? Why didn’t you wake me? Do you need the doctor? Hold on, let me—". He moves to press the call button, but Sam is quicker.

No one says anything after that. Joaquin simply sits to the side as the doctor checks on you, glaring between you and Sam. You already know—once the doctor, Sam, and Bucky leave—you’re in for a long argument. And it's ironic, considering you had just been in his position less than a week ago. It takes an excruciating hour before Sam and Bucky finally decide to leave.

All the while, Joaquin hasn’t muttered a single word. Sam apologizes, and Bucky tries to start a conversation, but he doesn’t get far once he realizes that nobody is responding to him.

In all honesty, you don’t want them to leave. You don’t want to start an argument with Joaquin when your body is still half-alive, still clawing its way out of the grasp of death. However, much to your surprise, five minutes after Sam and Bucky leave, Joaquin stands up as well.

"Where are you going?" Your voice comes out dull and scratchy from disuse.

"I’m going home. I’ll come back tomorrow."

"Joaquin—". He leaves.

You exhale a deep sigh, turning your head to stare at the wall beside you.

——

It takes you two weeks to be cleared to return home. And in those fourteen days, Joaquin comes to visit you only four times—each visit shorter than the last. You try to talk to him, try to get him to explain why he’s this upset when he himself does this nearly every day, but the only responses you get are a sigh, a roll of his eyes, or a very short, "I have to go." You quickly learn to leave it be. When the time comes, he does come to pick you up, driving you both home in complete silence.

The second you step through your front door, his entire demeanor shifts.

"Was this what you wanted from the start?" His voice is sharp and rough as he whips around to face you. His narrowed eyes glare at you with a pointed stare, his breath coming out heavy.

"What? Joaquin, what are you—"

"Did you want this to happen? Go on a mission, get yourself hurt, just to teach me a lesson? I just got out of the fucking hospital, and not even a week later, you’re in there. Are you out of your mind? Taking on a mission like that all on your own? No backup, nothing, and I wasn’t even informed that you were there! You all lied to me. You can’t even fucking fight. You’re not even a fucking Avenger. What the fuck is wrong with you?", his voice grows significantly louder with every word that tumbles out of his mouth, but all you can focus on is the last sentence.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Is.

Wrong.

With.

You?

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Joaquin? I took care of you for four fucking weeks—day in and day out! I got you food, I got you everything you wanted, and this is what I fucking get? I took the fucking mission so you wouldn’t have gotten hurt again, and you can’t even look at me. Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, you don’t get to—".

You don’t let him finish.

You turn around, storming toward the door, and slam it shut behind you.

[space-matt]

The great debate

chris sturniolo x fem reader

summary: finally the big question has been revealed, ass or titts? 

request: yes -> @jcsturniolo11

author’s note: hope you like it, let me know!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

The living room of the Sturniolo house was buzzing with energy. It was a lazy Sunday, the kind of day when the world seems to slow down, giving everyone the chance to relax and do absolutely nothing. That was exactly the plan for Chris, Matt, and Chris's girlfriend, Y/n, while Nick was out with Madison. The three of them were sprawled across the couches, surrounded by half-empty bags of chips and soda cans, idly flipping through the TV channels while Chris scrolled through his phone.

Chris was sitting on the couch, engrossed in his phone, when he made an observation. "Man, you ever notice people are always either ass or tits people?" His eyes remained fixed on the screen as he chuckled, stealing a glance at Matt, who was lounging on the other end of the couch.

Y/n, perched next to Chris with her legs curled under her, raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's what you're thinking about right now?"

Chris, defensive, set his phone down, saying, "Hey, it's a legitimate topic. People have strong opinions about this. I saw these comments on the stream—it's an actual debate."

From his corner, Matt snorted, running a hand through his hair and leaning forward with an amused grin. "Oh God, are we really doing this? The whole 'ass or tits' thing? Classic."

Rolling her eyes, Y/n couldn't help but smile. "Okay, fine," she said, indulging them. "If we're going there, I gotta ask—you guys are brothers. Do you agree on this, or do you have different opinions?"

Chris and Matt shared a knowing glance, the kind of silent brotherly communication that comes after years of understanding each other without words. Then Chris smirked. "Oh, Matt and I definitely have different opinions. But I’m not gonna spoil it for him."

Matt, looking slightly exasperated, leaned back in his chair and gestured dismissively. "You're making a bigger deal out of this than it really is. I just have a preference for the backside. A good—"

"Nope, spare me the details!" Y/n interjected, raising her hand to halt Matt's words, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I'm attempting to deduce this based on your personalities, but it feels like an impossible task."

Chris, always the provocateur, playfully nudged Y/n. "Come on, Y/n. You know me better than anyone. Take a guess which one I am."

Y/n tilted her head, squinting at him thoughtfully. She was partly engaging in the banter, but her expression revealed genuine curiosity. "Hmmm. I get the sense that you're attracted to the posterior, but you pretend otherwise to keep people guessing. You know, trying to be 'mysterious.'"

Chris burst into laughter, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Mysterious? When have I ever been mysterious?"

"You're mysterious in a Chris kind of way," she countered, poking him in the side. "You may appear nonchalant, but you always have something up your sleeve."

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, he wishes he had that kind of depth."

"Okay, but seriously, Chris," Y/n persisted, her inquisitiveness getting the best of her. "Which one are you?"

A tense silence filled the room. Chris leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper as if he were on the verge of disclosing the world's greatest secret. "Y/n... I'm a—"

Matt, displaying no interest in the suspense, interjected with a deadpan expression. "He's a titts guy. Always has been."

Chris feigned offense as his mouth dropped open. "Bro, you just spoiled the big reveal!"

Y/n burst into laughter, her eyes wide with playful shock. "Wait, really? I was so convinced you were going to say ass!"

Matt shrugged. "Nope, it's the classic misdirection. He talks as if he's a ass guy, but nope, he's been on team titts forever."

Y/n crossed her arms and leaned back, still amused but now fully engaged in the conversation. "Well, now I’m intrigued, Matt. What about you?"

Chris flashed a knowing grin, already aware of his brother's response. "Oh, Matt's the obvious one. He's an ass man through and through. No question about it."

Matt didn’t even attempt to deny it. He gave a slight shrug, a laid-back grin spreading across his face. "What can I say? It’s all about balance."

Y/n couldn't help but chuckle, feeling the warmth of the moment as she shook her head at both Chris and Matt. "You guys are truly something else. Is this really what brothers talk about when no one’s around?"

Chris let out a low, rumbling chuckle. "You'd be surprised how intense our discussions can get."

Matt's expression turned unexpectedly solemn as he nodded. "Yeah, like the ongoing debate of socks or no socks in bed. It's a highly contested issue."

Y/n couldn't help but groan, half in exasperation and half in amusement as she buried her face in her hands. "Oh dear, what have I gotten myself into?"

Chris wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You've just been inducted into the never-ending debate club, Y/n. Welcome to the madness."

She shot him a playful squint, pretending to be unimpressed. "I didn’t sign up for this."

Matt's smirk was undeniable. "Nobody signs up for it. It just sneaks up on you."

Their laughter filled the room, the joy of their easy camaraderie spreading like wildfire. Amid all the lighthearted banter and goofy debates, it was moments like these—where time seemed to stand still—that made everything else in life worthwhile.

As Chris and Matt continued their playful banter about every conceivable topic, Y/n felt a surge of contentment. These brothers were a riot, and she wouldn't trade these moments for anything in the world.

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

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[stellaspectral]

I just recently found your blog and to say I absolutely love your writing is definitely an understatement.

I really love your post about Dating rise Donnie headcanons, and was wondering if you could do a version of it for rise Leo? Of course, if this has already been requested or you can’t or don’t want to write it for any reason, no hard feelings!

Remember to take breaks and drink water!

A/N: Wow, thank you so much for the kind words! It truly means a lot! 😊 I can totally do a version of dating headcanons for Rise Leo! I haven’t had that specific request until now, so here they are 💖

(And I appreciate the reminder about breaks and hydration; I need to remember more often!)

Dating Rise Leo (SFW)

💙 ROTTMNT Leonardo/Gender Neutral Reader 💙

CWs: None. All characters are aged-up.

Leo is always trying to look cool to impress you. Expect unnecessary flips to grab something, leaning against walls/doorframes, etc. This is almost always accompanied by a smirk that’s trying its absolute hardest to be charming, and probably a wink or two.

He’ll find excuses to sling an arm over your shoulder, playfully nudge you, or ‘accidentally’ brush hands when reaching for the same thing. It’s his way of breaking the touch barrier under the guise of casual confidence.

Leo frames asking you out as a challenge: “Bet you can’t beat me at [video game/contest here]. If I win, you gotta go on a date with me. If you win …” He’ll pause and smirk. “… you still gotta go out on a date with me. ‘Cause winning is awesome and you should celebrate with someone equally as awesome—like me.” Then he’ll wink, hoping the bravado masks the nervousness.

Get ready for a barrage of cheesy pickup lines, usually delivered with finger guns and a hopeful smirk. “Are you a portal? ‘Cause I feel like I could just fall right into you.” or “Did it hurt? When you fell from … that moderately high ledge I just portaled you away from?” He thinks they’re hilarious and peak romance.

Playful teasing is Leo’s primary love language. He’ll gently poke fun at your quirks, engage in witty banter (or what he considers witty), and try to get a rise out of you. If you can dish it back, he’s absolutely thrilled. It becomes a friendly verbal sparring match he finds incredibly engaging.

He bestows upon you a series of increasingly ridiculous (and often pun-based) nicknames. He uses them frequently, testing them out to see which ones make you laugh, groan, or blush. It’s his way of creating an intimate inside joke between you two.

Leo will turn almost anything into a playful challenge, enjoying the lighthearted competition with you. He’s genuinely happy even if you win, though he’ll demand a rematch.

He’s not shy about showing affection. He’ll sling an arm around your shoulder, casually grab your hand, maybe even attempt a dramatic dip-kiss when the mood strikes. He wants everyone to know you’re his awesome partner.

Forget your jacket? Want snacks from the place across town? He’ll use his portal powers for you (and he definitely also uses them to make dramatic entrances when portalling to meet up with you.)

For dates, there will be rooftop picnics with breathtaking city views, some urban exploration, maybe a visit to the Coney Island Boardwalk. Back at the lair, prepare for extensive viewings of the Jupiter Jim franchise, complete with his commentary.

His gifts are … eclectic. Expect things like:

1. A t-shirt with a terrible pun: I Fell For You (Through a Portal) or You’ve Stolen a Pizza My Heart. 2. A coupon book for redeemable ‘Leo Services’: One free portal ride (destination may vary), One epic training montage soundtrack, or One distraction from boring chores. 3. Occasionally, he’ll nail it with something surprisingly thoughtful he overheard you mentioning weeks ago.

Got a big test, presentation, or event? Leo becomes your hype-man. He might leave encouraging (and pun-filled) notes via portal or send ridiculous motivational voice messages. He believes you’re amazing and wants you to succeed, even if his methods are extra.

While he loves being the center of attention, he also loves seeing you shine. If you achieve something cool or demonstrate a skill, he’s your loudest cheerleader. He’ll brag about you to his brothers and anyone else who’ll listen.

He thinks you’re the coolest person ever (besides himself, naturally) and he’ll hype up your interests, even if he doesn’t fully understand them. If you’re passionate about something, he’ll ask questions and encourage you enthusiastically.

If you’re upset or stressed, Leo’s go-to move is distraction. Feeling down? Suddenly, you’re sharing a pizza on top of the Chrysler Building and he’s cracking jokes to help you feel better. He might not always know the right words, but he excels at trying to make you laugh your worries away, even if just for a little while.

He also quickly learns your go-to comfort foods. He might not know exactly what to say, but he’ll appear with your favorite takeout, a specific type of candy, etc. Whatever you like. It’s his tangible way of trying to make things better.

The smirk drops fast if you’re in danger. One second he’s cracking a joke, the next his katanas are out, and he’s placing himself squarely between you and whatever threat dares approach. He might play it cool afterwards, but the fierce protectiveness in his eyes is unmistakable.

He’s not immune to jealousy. If someone else is clearly hitting on you, he won’t make a big scene. Instead, he subtly reasserts his presence with louder jokes, an arm over your shoulder, or suggesting you two leave for some place ‘way cooler.’

He picks up on your specific slang, your favorite obscure references, the particular way you phrase things. He’ll weave them into his own banter, just to see you smile or playfully roll your eyes. It’s his way of showing he listens and wants to connect on your level.

Just as you learn to read his moods beneath the jokes, he becomes surprisingly adept at reading yours. He notices the slight shift in your tone, the way you hold your shoulders when stressed, or the specific sigh that means you’re overwhelmed. He might not always react perfectly, but he sees it, and his attempts to cheer you up become more targeted.

While he projects effortless cool, you catch glimpses of the weight he feels as leader. He might get contemplative after a mission that didn’t go perfectly or seek your opinion on a tactical decision he’s mulling over. He values your perspective, even if he doesn’t always admit it directly.

Beneath the bravado, there are moments when the façade drops. Maybe after a tough mission or when he’s messed something up. He’ll get quieter, rest his head on your shoulder, and implicitly seek reassurance. He might not say he’s feeling insecure or scared, but you learn to read the signs, and being there for him in those moments deepens your connection immensely.

Leo’s gratitude often comes in quieter moments: a sincere “Thanks for putting up with me,” a hand squeeze after you’ve helped him through a moment of insecurity, or just a soft, genuine smile directed only at you. These subtle moments mean more from him than all the jokes and puns.

[moonvis]

I NEED YOU ALIVE

Steve Rogers x F! Avenger! Reader Incl. Sam, Tony, and Bucky x Natasha Summary: Steve can't wait to propose, but when a mission goes south, he's not sure he'll get the chance after all Warnings: Angst to fluff! Some cursing. Some blood and injuries. 2.5k words.

Steve carefully opened the blue velvet box in his hand, revealing a simple yet beautiful engagement ring. Light reflected onto the golden material, a small diamond on top. Steve knew his girl liked it simple, so that was what he got. A warming smile grew on his lips as he imagined the ring perfectly fit on her finger.

Bucky gently nudged at his pal’s side, a smirk present on his face. Steve chuckled as a response, speaking in a low voice, “This is it Buck. I’m proposing tonight after the mission.” It was Y/N and Steve’s two-year anniversary after all, but unfortunately they had to go on a last-minute mission before celebrating.

“M’ happy for you pal. She’s gonna love it.”

Steve had been carrying the ring in his picket ever since he bought it, looking at it every now and then  - even at the risk of Y/N spotting him. Bucky had reminded it of such many times before, “Might put it away before your girl sees it.”

The whole team were gathered inside the jet, but luckily Y/N was sat opposite of the super soldiers, occupied in a conversation with Natasha. Steve let out a happy sigh and closed the box, “You know how it is Buck…”

Bucky did indeed understand; he understood the excitement Steve was feeling, the thought of spending the rest of a lifetime with the love of his life. The former Winter Solider had proposed to Natasha just a few months earlier anyways.  

Bucky patted the blonde’s shoulder, “One more mission, and she’s all yours.”

“Right.” The Captain put the box back in his most secure pocket and got up. Time to get over with the mission. Walking into the middle of the jet, he spoke up, “Okay team. One last recall on the mission plan.”

Y/N gave him her immediate attention, admiring Steve in his Captain America stance. Steve gave her a small smile before he continued talking, “Y/N and Nat will get the files. Buck, Sam and I will go for the hostages, while Tony-” Steve turned to the billionaire, “You work as a shield around the base. This is a last-minute mission, which means we gotta be prepared for anything. Sam will back you up if needed.”

“Dream team,” Y/N commented from beside Natasha, giving her a pound, “Let’s go.”

Tony turned in his seat and prepared the jet for arrival, just outside the Hydra base, “Check your gear everyone! We land in three.”

As the they landed, Steve guided for Y/N to come over, which se gladly did. The Captain put his shield on his back, before caressing his girlfriend’s face, his brows softening as they made eye contact, “Be careful, okay? You know I hate separating from you on missions. So please, don’t take any unnecessary risks. I need you back in one piece.”

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Steve was referring to the upcoming secret proposal, thinking of the ring hidden in his pocket. He needed his future bride to make it back from the mission alive.

“That goes both ways,” Y/N raised a brow and smiled, “But yes, I promise.” With a quick kiss, they bid each other good luck before Y/N jogged off to join Natasha.

“Come on pal, let’s go.” Bucky said form beside the Captain. Steve couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy though, watching his girl disappear out of sight. Shrugging it off, he nodded at Bucky before leading the way.

Y/N and Natasha snuck up to the first entrance where four Hydra agents were guarding the door. Y/N looked over at the redhead mouthing, “Element of surprise?”, gaining a nod in response. On three, Y/N launched forward and kicked one man to the ground, before ducking as another tried to shoot her.

Natasha was already slamming the shooter into a third Hydra agent, while Y/N knocked out the guy beneath her. Finishing off, she shot the fourth and last guy running at Natasha. The girls gave each other a pound before continuing further into the base.

“Y/N look!”

Y/N turned to face Natasha, her eyes following whatever the redhead was pointing at. A staircase, leading up to a glass covered room holding what seemed like computers.

“Just what we were searching for,” Y/N winked and ran towards the stairs, stopping when a pair of Hydra agents suddenly appeared at the top. Y/N was a quick and precise shooter when it came to guns, not arrows, that was Barton’s specialty.

Fast, she brought out her gun and shot both agents in their head before they got the chance to react. Natasha came up beside her, impressed, “Not bad, but save some for me, will you?”

“Then you gotta keep up,” Y/N teased. Natassha rolled her eyes and followed her friend up the stairs. As they reached the computer-room, the coast seemed to be clear, with no booby-traps in sight.

“Awesome. Go do your thing,” Y/N winked at Natasha who entered the room, before she spoke into the comms, “Mission report. We found the computer-room.”

“Good. Get those files and stay on guard,” Steve reported back, “We just found the hostages. Getting them out now.”   

Natasha was skilled when it came to hacking, so downloading the files were like a baby’s work. It was when they thought they were safe to leave the base, things started to heat up.

“We got the files, heading out now!” Natasha spoke into the comms, following Y/N out of the room.

“Copy that.” The Captain sounded satisfied, “And the hostages are brought to safety. Everyone return to the jet.”   

While Tony gave his own report into the comms, the ladies of the team faced a sudden surprise outside the computer-room. Out of nowhere, a gunshot sounded through the hall, followed by the sound of Natasha’s agonizing scream.

She had been hit.

Y/N was quick to react and shot the Hydra agent who had fired and felt a knot in her stomach as she watched her friend fall to the floor. “Nat, shit!” Y/N rushed over and fell to her knees, “Hold still.”

Natasha had been shot through the leg, thick blood flowing out of her wound. Y/N ripped a piece of clothing of her own suit and wrapped it around the redhead’s leg. Bringing a hand up to her comm, her shaking voice spoke up, “Nat’s been hit! We need backup asap!”

“What!?” The frantic voice of Bucky sounded through the comms, “Where are you? I’m coming!”

“We’re just outside the computer room. West part of the base. Please, hurry!” Y/N’s worried voice responded back, before she shifted her attention back to Natasha, “Hold on Nat. Bucky’s coming.”

Natasha was weak, the wound being dangerously deep. The redhead brought out her hand for Y/N to hold, which she instantly accepted. Y/N felt scared, she couldn’t carry Natasha out of there herself, nor would she leave her behind. The last thing she needed was more Hydra agents approaching them in such a vulnerable state.

As if the universe hated them, the voices of more Hydra agents could be heard from downstairs, “They’re up there! Let’s go!”

Shit.

“Guys, hurry! There’s more agents and I can’t deal with them alone with Nat like this!” Y/N yelled into the comms, readying her gun for anything. Right now, protecting Natasha was the only thing she cared about.

“On my way!” Tony said though the comms, his voice stern with a hint of concern.

Steve felt his heart twist and turn, the sickening feeling in his stomach not helping. If he knew his girl correctly, she would do anything in her power to protect Natasha. Even if it meant putting her own life at risk. “Don’t do anything stupid Y/N! We’re on our way!”

“Hold on baby, I’m on my way!” Was Bucky’s words trough the comms. Natasha let out a shaky breath at his voice, clearly getting a bit of relief from it.

As the first Hydra agent made his way up the stairs, Y/N shot him in the head, making him fall into the one coming up right behind him. Y/N got up on her feet and saw at least six more agents running up to get them, “What the fuck?”

“Y/N you need to-” Natasha spoke thought a cough, “Get your ass out of here.”

“Forget it. I’m not leaving you.” Y/N’s voice was stern, so was her stance. As more agents ran towards her, she shot them. One, two and-

Her gun was out of bullets.

In the moment of panic, she took a step back before throwing her gun at the floor. Reaching for her knife, she spoke through the comms again, “My gun’s out, and these bitches keep on coming. Hurry!”

“Fuck, we’re almost there doll!” Steve was panicking. He could run fast alright, but coming from the other side of the base was quite the long way, “Tony!”

“Almost there Cap!”

Taking advantage of Y/N’s moment of distraction, the next Hydra agent tackled her to the floor. She usually managed to take out a guy alone, but as another agent joined in to hold her down, she struggled.

Natasha noticed and couldn’t just lay and watch. The redhead gritted her teeth together and lifted herself slightly off the floor, pointing her gun at one of the agents. Trough her blurred vision, she shot him in the arm. The man screamed in pain and let go of Y/N.

Unfortunately, the Hydra agent realised Natasha was still a threat, even in such a state, and went forward to grab her instead. The man lifted Natasha by the collar and dragged her towards the stairs, pointing his gun at her, “This is what you get little bitch!”

His words grabbed Y/N attention, her eyes widening, “No!”

Everything from there happened so fast. One second she was pushing Natasha out of the way, and the next, she was falling down the stairs with a fresh bullet-wound to her side.

In the moment of tragedy, Iron Man came flying in, catching Y/N only seconds away from having her head slammed on the cold hard ground. Holding her with one hand, he blasted the last remaining agents dead, before finally landing. Tony gently put her down, his mask revealing the distressed features on his face, “My god-”

“Natasha!” The yell and sight of Bucky came in view. He spotted his fiancé at the top of the stairs, not hesitating to get to her side. Right behind came Steve and Sam, having no idea what would meet their eyes.

The exact moment Steve spotted Y/N lying beside Tony, he felt his stomach drop. The Captain rushed to her side, falling onto his knees as dust flew in the air, “Oh my god--”

As Tony put pressure on her wound, Steve brought his hand up to caress her cheek, “Oh my god Y/N, you-”

“M’sorry Stevie…”

“No, don’t you say that!” Steve was panicking, his eyes going up to meet Tony’s, “What do we do?!”

Composing himself, Tony got up from the ground, “She don’t have much time. We need to get her help, asap! I’ll get the jet ready, you bring her.”  

Steve felt his breath quickening at Tony’s words. As he watched Iron Man fly off, Steve shifted his attention back to his girl. Fresh tears streamed down his cheeks as he spoke, “I’m sorry doll, but this is gonna hurt.” Steve, as gently as he could, lifted her up in his arms, shutting out her agonizing scream to concentrate.

“Hold on doll, I’m bringing you home,” Steve promised as he ran the fastest he ever had. He watched as his girl grew heavier in his arms, her eyelids trying to fall shut. “Don’t you dare close your eyes!” Fuck he was worried.

“I’m not losing you today doll, just keep your eyes open, please.” Steve begged as he noticed how quickly his girl faded.

“M’sleepy…” Y/N wasn’t thinking clearly anymore, not feeling much either. She was just happy her last moments would be in the hands of the man she loved.

“No, I can’t let you to that. You need to stay awake, sweetheart. Please.” Steve cried as Y/N’s eyes closed, knowing there was nothing else he could do but run. “No, no, no, Y/N! Stay with me, please!”

As Y/N went completely numb in his hands, the solider screamed out in frustration. The jet was right in front of him, and as soon as he got to lay her body down, he fell to his knees, silent sobs shaking his broad shoulders.

His hand reached into his pocket, fingers tightening around the blue velvet box. She couldn’t die on him, not like this. He still had an important question to ask her.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Just like he had been doing for the last few days, Steve sat by her bedside, listening to the monitor telling him she was still alive.

Steve refused to leave her side. Sam had tried to at least make him take a shower after the mission, but he still wouldn't budge. Steve had to be present the exact moment Y/N woke up.

“Hey, pal,” Bucky entered the room, “How’s she doing?”

Steve let out a sigh, letting his eyes leave Y/N for just a moment to look at his friend, “You know… the same.”

“Hey, I could watch her for a while if you need some rest,” Bucky suggested, but the Captain only shoot his head, “You know she’s gonna be mad when she wake up and realises you didn’t take care of yourself.”

“So be it,” Steve stoke his thumb over the soft skin of her hand, “I just can’t leave her side. I thought she was gone Buck. You saw it! Her heart stopped, twice!” Fresh tears streamed down Steve’s face at the memory playing in his head.

The day on the injury, Y/N’s heart stopped twice if not more, and it scared the hell out of Steve. He had to see the world crumbling down before his eyes, only for the universe to prank him. It made him angry. Oh, how he hated Hydra, for almost taking away his future.

Bucky didn’t comment Steve’s words. It could easily have been Natasha in that situation, but Y/N had saved her without hesitation. He would be forever grateful – he just couldn’t bear the thought of his best friend losing the love of his life instead.

Luckily, Y/N was recovering.

“You look like shit…” A crocked voice came from the room. Steve’s head shot up in surprise, eyes landing on her beautiful ones looking back at him. Bucky smiled and rushed out of the room, going to get a doctor.

“Y/N? Oh my-” Steve gasped, rapid breaths escaping him, “Fuck, Y/N, I thought I lost you.” Steve reached forward and cupped her cheek, not even bothering to hold back the sobs that followed.

“M’sorry…” Y/N let out a shaky breath, still adjusting to the light and pain in her stomach, “And uh- how long was I out for?”

“Five days,” Steve responded, still in disbelief his girl was finally awake, “Thank god you’re okay, doll. I love you so damn much.”

Y/N was a little taken back by the number of days but shook it off as she watched Steve’s broken expression. She tapped at the empty spot beside her, guiding for Steve to lay down. He hesitated for a moment, scared of hurting her, but accepted when she looked at him with pleading eyes.

“How’s Natasha doing?” Y/N asked as she remembered the redhead.

“She’s okay,” Steve sounded a bit hesitant, “Thanks to you I’ve heard.”

“Steve… I’m sorry for being reckless, I just-”

Steve sighed and reassured her, “It’s okay, I’m just glad to have you back alive. We’ve been at this one before; I’d do the same for Bucky and so on.”

Y/N chuckled and rested her head against his shoulder, hearing his rapid heartbeat.

Letting out a shaky breath, Steve turned to face her properly, his eyes softening as he looked at her smile. He reached into his pocket to grab the blue velvet box he had so patiently waited to give her.

“Y/N, this is not how I imagined doing this, but-” Steve brought the box forwards. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sight, her hand coming up to cover her gasping mouth, “Steve…”

Steve opened the box to reveal the beautiful ring, his eyes plastered on her the whole time. Her widening smile and teary eyes made his heart melt, “After almost loosing you, I can’t wait any longer. Please, will you do me the biggest honour of becoming my wife?”

“Oh my gosh! Yes!” Y/N cheered with the little energy she had and let Steve put the perfectly fit ring on her finger, “It’s beautiful Steve!”

Steve let out a soft chuckle, “I know this isn’t an ideal way to propose but-”

“It’s perfect!” Y/N assured him and reached forward to press a kiss on his lips. Though as she moved, a sudden pain overwhelmd her stomach, “Fuck!”

“Shit, are you okay?” Steve went straight into being protective, watching his fiancé shut her eyes in pain. As she didn’t respond, he grew worried, at least, until she started giggling. “Fuck that hurt.”

“You scared me doll,” Steve let out a sigh and reached forward to plant a kiss on top of her head, “You sure know how to pain an old man’s heart.”

Before Y/N got the chance to respond, a doctor came into the room, Bucky following suit, “Sorry for ruining the moment, but we need to check if everything is okay.”

“That’s fine, I know you’ll take care of my fiancé.” Steve kissed the top of her head and left the bed, going to stand beside Bucky.

The brunette punched Steve in the arm, “Now you can finally stop the obsessive ring gazing. I’m happy for you pal.”

“Thanks Buck.” Steve's eyes didn’t leave her figure as he stood there. He watched as she laughed with the doctor, a smile plastered on her face, even though she just woke up from a fay day long coma. She was such a ray of sunshine – she warmed his heart.

Oh, and to believe she would be his for ever.

[cottoncandy-cult]

Gentle Hold

Yami Sukehiro X Pregnant Wife! Reader

(Y/n) sighed softly, hand rubbing her swollen belly as she made her way down the stone halls of the black bull's base. Her back was aching, the baby was do in a months time and she couldn't wait for all this pressure inside of her to be released. "Hey (Y/n), you ok? Do you need help down the stairs?" Asta had come around the corner, noticing the heavily pregnant woman and her obvious discomfort. "No thanks, Henry put those handrails up so I should be fine. I just can't keep laying in bed, my back is so tense." She had her free hand on her hip, trying to arch her back some to relieve it as she walked. "If you say so, I know you aren't supposed to take real baths when you're like that but maybe Captain Yami knows something that could help. He has been reading a lot when he goes to the bathroom, he has like a parenting book in each stall." Asta chuckled, smiling when he saw his captain's wife started to giggle. As unserious as the captain could be, Yami had been doing his best to prepare. He wasn't necessarily easily embarrassed, just naturally private about certain things. "He should be back from the captain's meeting at the capital soon, Fenral went with him so it shouldn't be long now." Asta continued on his way, the woman smiling with a nod and thanks before making her way down the steps towards the kitchen.

She was really wanting a banana muffin; she didn't want nuts in it though. Just a nice, soft and fluffy banana muffin. The thought had her belly rumbling, her waddled steps getting faster. "Hey Charmy, can we have muffins? I could really use something banana." When she approached the couch Magna was quick to stand and help her sit, being as devoted to her husband as he was Magna took great care of his captain's wife in his absence. "Coming up! I was just craving something sweet!" Charmy was quick to gather the sheep cooks, though it was clear banana muffins weren't the only things on the menu. To distract herself from her growing hunger, (Y/n) settled on a nice cool glass of milk. Before long Charmy had laid out several baked goods, while she had originally only been craving banana muffins the site of glazed honey banana buns had her mouth watering. That was where she was when Yami found her, her legs swinging happily in her seat as she ate a baked apple cinnamon roll. She had been going down the line, trying one of everything she could. Refilling her milk when needed, she happily enjoyed the warm and soft desserts.

"This looks good, you enjoying yourself darlin?" Yami sat next to her, kissing her cheek in greeting as he put out his cigarette. (Y/n) nodded with her mouth full, her cheeks full of soft goodness. Swallowing her bite, she looked up at her husband, wide smile on her face. "You've gotta try some of this, the cinnamon banana bread is so good." She took a drink of her milk once more, watching as Yami smiled at her from the corner of her eye. "Yeah? I guess I could use a snack before dinner." He took her advice and grabbed some of the bread, taking a bite of it with a soft hum. "Yeah, it's pretty good. I've tried something like this from the bar I drink at in the capital sometimes, but theirs is pretty dry." He tapped his fingers on the table, Vannessa happily fixing him a drink as she snacked on a cupcake. They all often took snack breaks together, it would normally start with one or two of them but then it would slowly grow as conversations were had. Yami had slipped an arm around his wife's waist, large hand sprawling across her stomach to feel the pressure of their child against his palm. He was always quietly affectionate with her; he was never obscene with it, but he never failed to make their relationship and his own feelings known.

His ring never came off his finger, she had heard from Magna how Yami put off gambling and worked more to buy their rings and pay for the wedding. That conversation had killed any anxiety she had about their engagement and their next big step in life. Her own hand came to rest over his, gently squeezing as she finished her current snack and snuggled up to him. Giggling as some of the younger squad members playfully gagged over their display, Yami simply rolling his eyes as he took another bite of his bread. "Julius wanted me to give you somethin' for the baby, he was out wizard watching again and saw this weird little stuffed animal and thought it was cute for some reason." Yami pulled out a stuffed animal, it was an odd amalgamation of animals. An otter body, a beaver tail, webbed feet and duck bill. The look of it had (Y/n) laughing, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as her eyes shut. "He is so ugly oh my god." She shakily took the stuffed animal, flipping it around to look it over though her giggles never stopped. "He is so ugly it's almost cute, where do you even come up with something like this? I didn't know alcoholics could sew." That comment made her husband snort, chuckling to himself as he shook his head. He did admit that the stuffed animal was quite odd, Julius in general had a very particular taste in items if William's mask was anything to go buy. "You know Julius, he somehow manages to find the most outlandish items… when he isn't making them himself." He sipped his beer, running his hand through her hair as she continued to look over the stuffed animal with a curious stare. "Can't say he isn't original…"

"I'm gonna go put this in the nursery so it doesn't get lost, if I eat too much more, I won't have room for lunch." She says this while picking up chocolate chip banana muffin, waddling her way to the steps as Yami watched her with a chuckle. Of course he stood to follow, finishing his drink and popping a whole muffin in his mouth. He wanted to enjoy his time with her today since it was interrupted by a captains meeting, so he followed her up to the nursery and made sure she didn't lose her balance on the steps. Until finally he leaned against the door frame, watching her place the stuffed animal on top of a small dresser that already had several on top of it. "Just one more month, you ready to pop yet?" Yami chuckled, walking in as he wrapped his arms around her waist and her own arms came to rest over his. "Mhm, I feel like I have a boulder in my body, my back aches and I have to pee all the time." She sighed softly and tilted her head back, closing her eyes as he shifted slightly to gently lift her belly with his large hands. Relief flooded her features as she hummed softly and gently squeezed his hand, she loved when he did this as it was one of the few times she felt relief these days. "I see, gives us another reason to count down the days then huh?" His thumbs stroked the curve of her stomach as he supported her body with ease, he used to work out just to get her attention and feed his ego, but it was really paying off now. "I'm kinda scared to be honest, if this baby is anything like you it's gonna be a giant." She giggled, her thumb stroking the top of his hand. As the wife of a magic knight captain, she knew her baby would be delivered by an experienced doctor, but she just knew by how heavy the baby set in her stomach that this was gonna be one hell of a birth. "I mean, at least we know the baby is gonna be healthy? Everything will be ok, the doctors aren't gonna let you suffer." Yami kissed the top of her head, having already gone over the procedure with Owen several times and so he knew there were things for pain she'd be given to reduce the stress on her and the baby. "I know, I trust Owen. I just know it's gonna wreck my body and I'm not excited for it." She sighed softly, turning her head to nuzzle the side of his neck.

"Yeah, can't blame you there. But once this baby is out, all you'll have to do is lay back and we'll handle the rest. I mean, you'll still need to nurse the baby, but we'll make sure you have time to rest." Yami pressed a kiss to her forehead, doing his best to soothe her anxiety. "I know you all will, we're the black bulls after all and we take care of each other." (Y/n) responded with a smile, she had confidence in her squad and knew she'd simply have to have faith. "You wanna go sit outside for a bit until lunch, the weather is nice, and the fresh air will do you good. You've been couped up inside all day." He swayed softly, basking in her natural body heat and breathing in her scent. He had his own anxiety about the birth, but he knew he'd just have to have faith that everything would work out. "Sure, the breeze through the window has felt nice all day. I wanna see how the garden is doing." Yami carefully lowered her belly, moving to lift her up into his arms as he carries her out the room. (Y/n) would get embarrassed at first when he would do this type of thing, but now she was just glad to snuggle with him and be off her feet without being stuck in bed. He brought her out back to the garden, sitting in a chair in the center of the garden and resting her on his lap. She sat across his legs, leaning against his chest as she lifted her head to look over the colorful flowers. One of her husband's large hands rubbed her back, large fingertips gently pressing into her muscles and rubbing out the tension as best he could.

He couldn't have her lay face down for a proper back massage, so he had to settle for trying to rub her back when she was sitting up. "Charmy has done really good at taking care of the flowers, all that experience growing fruits and veggies must really pay off for her." (Y/n) spoke with a smile, she loved her garden but once she got a bit deeper into pregnancy, she couldn't care for it the way she would have liked so she had to ask Charmy to take care of it until she was able to get back out there. "Yeah, she's pretty good in the garden and kitchen. We really lucked out with the variety in this squad." Yami chuckled, leaning against the back of the seat as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. A soft warm breeze flowed past them, the sweet scent of the flowers carried on the wind and reinforced the calming scene around them. Yami never expected any of this, he had never thought much on love until his wife came into his life. Now here he was, married with a baby on the way and a squad of misfits that would always have his back. Life was turning out better than he expected, and he wasn't about to let this kind of peace slip through his fingers any time soon.

[bigtreefest]

Made up fic title: What Once Was Lost is Always Found

Ohhhh, Kris. You’ve really got me in the feels with this one🥺. So angsty, but so hopeful? This one’s for all my millennials/divorcees🫡 (gosh, I can’t tell you how much I love this tho. She’s a lil long)

Based off of this ask game

What Once Was Lost is Always Found

Ari Levinson x divorced!Reader

You huffed as your mom shoved the silverware into your hands, shooing you out of the kitchen to set the table, as she finished up dinner.

Upon her return from the grocery store, she pulled you up off the floor where you were wearing your threadbare college hoodie, looking through old photos, insisting you put on ‘normal people clothes.’

The last time you had been in your childhood room this long was before you had even gotten your degree, followed quickly by a job, a wedding, then a cat. And then after building that life for years and watching it crumble before your eyes, a divorce. With nothing else left for you there, you went to the one place you were always safe: home, bringing the cat, of course. Everything just needed to stop for a little bit.

You set the utensils down on the placemats and brought the extras back to put in the drawer when she stopped you.

“No, I gave those on purpose. Make a fourth place setting. We’re going to have company for dinner.”

You looked at her with a furrowed brow, an expression she knew all too well, as you went to the cupboard to grab the plates.

“Mom, I really don’t want anyone seeing me like this right now. Can’t you and Dad just go out to dinner with your friends like normal people?”

She laughed and shook her head, checking the oven before slipping off the mitts and using them to point at you.

“At least we have friends, missy. You’ve gotta get yourself out there. Can’t hide in your room forever.”

As she turned back to the stove, you heard her mutter in that low voice she always used when she was up to no good. “And you could use the social interaction, I’m sure.”

You rolled your eyes and continued laying out the dishes while your mom debriefed you about her day.

“And you won’t believe who I ran into at the super market today!”

“Who?” Your voice fell flat.

She turned to look at you, her eyes sparkling with something that you couldn’t quite decipher. Excitement? Nostalgia? And a slight wariness to your possible response?

“None other than Ari Levinson. I always liked that boy, you know. Turned into a good man. Shame it seems like he could never quite find the right girl around here after you left. And believe me, he tried. All those young women he went out with tried even harder.”

You sighed, burying your head in your arms against the kitchen island at her mention of your high school sweetheart. The one you had left behind before going to college. The one you’d always had a little spot for in your heart. But he stayed home and you had a career to make for yourself. And by the time school had come and gone, you were engaged and had heard he’d been dating. Waiting around at that age didn’t seem practical, especially when he so willingly had given you the space you asked for, and seemingly moved on. That was a good thing, right? Taking time apart gave you an answer: if he was yours, he’d come back to you, but he didn’t. Last you heard, every girl on this side of the river was pining for him. And who wouldn’t? He was a good looking, great guy. No chance he’d want to try again with the girl that chose a new life over him.

You worked in silence, straightening out the place settings when the doorbell rang. As your mom worked on bringing the food out to the table, you trudged to the front door, preparing for the onslaught of questions and hugs from a family friend. Except when the door swung open, your eyes were met with a firm chest. You followed it upwards to a soft smile and shining eyes, framed by a full beard and luscious locks of hair. Even more heart throbbing than you remembered. In his hand sat a pie, one that you’d know by smell anywhere, from your favorite diner in town where you’d share a slice almost weekly. Your jaw was dropped, throat dry, as you stood stiffly, blocking the doorway. But in Ari fashion, his demeanor was welcoming, smooth, calming, as he spoke to you in a voice that sounded like home.

“Hey there, honey bunch.”

[maryleclerc]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 (𝐈𝐈)

pairing: matt rempe x ballerina!reader ; jack hughes x ballerina!reader

summary: you can read part 1 for the context, cause if i write the summary i think i might spoil the whole fic

warning: english is not my native language, mention of cheating, being a single mom. this was written base on my imagination, please don’t take seriously.

a/n: yes i know i know i re-write this to make it better cause the 1st version of it quite not my liking so, hope this version be better

taglist: add yourself here. add to be tag in my next part!!

🎧 francesca by hozier

yourusername

liked by yourfrienduser and others

yourusername Finally I can show off my pretty, healthy baby girl. Meet my little princess Francesca Pearl Y/l/n 💗👑

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user1 aww hi Francesca, i’m Francesca too

user2 She does not said she’s a single mom but I know she is, and that’s made me love her even more

user3 @/jackhughes regret? too bad, too late already :(())

jackhughes with dbareux

liked by _quinnhughes, dbareux and others

jackhughes Daisy and I are engaged 💗

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user1 Congratz Jack and Daisy, love you both

user2 Damn didn’t know her pussy is that good :))

user3 Omgosh what is this now

user4 tbh I’m so embarrassed when I am both Jack and Daisy fan. After knowing all the things happened to Y/n and her daughter

yourusername

liked by alleyrempe, yourfrienduser and 78,669 others

yourusername First time being back after awhile

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alleyrempe ☀️☀️

user1 How do you feel about Jack getting marry soon

user2 Let me answer it for her, she don’t fucking care and stop asking those stupid ass question

user3 She’s so pretty

nhlwags_andthewag

6,201 likes

nhlwags_andthewag [TODAY WAG] After receiving news that Jack and Daisy were engaged, Y/n officially unfollowed Jack on Instagram after 5 years of following each other on Instagram. Additionally, she followed Matt Rempe, Alley Rempe (Matt's sister) and the New York Rangers this morning, Alley also comment on Y/n post. Is this related to recent rumors made by NYR fans? Leave a comment below if you think the same as me

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user1 I know this is their privacy but I gotta say they’re dating and I think they both are in a serious relationship

user2 Well I mean she’s well known in the NHL so might be friend support friend. Ya know it’s hard to be a single mom such a young age, a supporter is really a need

user3 @/nhl_deuxmoi Can you confirm this??

user4 The easiest thing to confirm is to wait until NJD and NYR are on the same ice next week, I'm a fan of NYR and I know Matt, he looooves a good fight.

mattrempe

liked by alleyrempe and others

mattrempe Great time in Maine, celebrating Cloe and Connors wedding!!

tagged: alleyrempe

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alleyrempe Brother

user1 Ngl Y/n rumors boyfriend look good af

user2 And he tall too

y/n and matt ig story

[lovelywritinglady]

Crocodile’s Tears- Part Three- MarineFord

Sir Crocodile x fem!reader, Doflamingo x sister!reader

Angst, mentions of violence, fluff, and mentions of death.

In which you see your husband for the first time in months and it happens in an unexpected way. And you come to a realization that your brother isn’t who you thought he was.

I don’t remember everything that happened at Marine ford and I added some things to that story. Sorry this part has taken so long.

"Crocodile." You whispered my eyes wide with shock

There he stood, in all of his 8'3 glory; scowl and all. Doffy was there too adorning his annoyingly smug smile. There stood these powerful men amongst a field of dead, wounded, and fighting soldiers. It was a sight to behold for anyone watching, except for you. As all you could see was how injured Crocodile was. It made your heart ache to see him like that and for a moment you forgot your anger for him. You felt your heart soften at the sight of him.

Your brother and Crocodile seemed like they were engaged in something serious. Based on the look on Crocodiles face, he was pissed.

“What the hell could they be talking about?” You wondered to yourself eyes glued to the screen.

Crocodiles pov

This damn pink feathered bastard, why the hell did she have to be his sister. My frustration was immense and all I wanted right now was to kill whitebeard and get the hell out of this dammed war. However, his comment struck me hard and I knew once all this hell was done that I needed to find y/n and convince my wife to forgive me.

“You’re thinking of ways to make her forgive you aren’t you gator boy!” Doflamingo teased making me furious.

“Shut the hell up!” I yelled turning away from the fool

“You gotta know that no matter what you try, I won’t let you near my dear sweet sister.” He said making me stop dead in my tracks.

“Are you challenging me?” I asked coldly my back still turned

“Maybe I am! Haha! Y/n doesn’t want you why would you try so hard to win her back?” Doflamingo barked

“That my business.” I said quietly finally walking away from the conversation

Part of me is glad I walked away as I knew that fight would take up too much of my time. But another part of me wants to kill him, but considering my wife might be watching, I didn’t want to take that chance. Looking around this battlefield was hell. Everyone was killing each other left and right all to safe that Ace brat. It seemed too excessive for me personally, but I’m just glad that so many dammed marines are dying. The less there are of them the better.

Suddenly, I spotted the stupid clown,Buggy, seemingly making a fool of himself on what looked like a video transponder snail. A bright idea came to me as I walked quickly to them. The prisoners surrounding the red nose idiot all seemed scared, which gave me the confidence to do the thing I set out to do.

“Point that snail at me, if you don’t I’ll kill you.” I threatened pointing at him.

“Y-yes s-s-sir.” The fool stuttered.

“Hey you can’t do that to captain Buggy!” A few of the prisoners wined.

“Yeah, get out of her Crocodile!” Buggy proudly said making me glare at him.

“Or y-you can have it!” He said cowering with a goofy smile on his face.

The snail was pointed at me finally allowing me to say what I needed to say. I took a deep breath still trying to look as intimidating as possible. I did have a reputation to uphold after all.

Your pov

“The hell!” I exclaimed as the video transponder snail suddenly stopped showing the action. “Who’s that dumbass.” I questioned looking at the ugly man now on the screen.

He had a red nose and was wearing a marine uniform but called himself Captain Buggy. I swore I’ve heard that title before but couldn’t figure out where. However, the camera was now on him as the action was heard around him.

“Hello there I’m the famous Captain Buggy!” He exclaimed clearly full of himself.

“Yay, Captain Buggy.” The prisoners around him yelled.

“Point that snail at me, if you don’t I’ll kill you.” A familiar deep voice called out. With some protest the camera was finally pointed elsewhere.

“Crocodile.” I whispered moving closer to the screen. “What the hell are you doing?”

“G-go ahead Mr. Crocodile sir!” The camera man shakily spoke.

“I’m not sure if you’re watching this or not, but I promise that no matter what you’ll see what kind of man I am.” Crocodile spoke seriously. He seemed to pause for a moment before speaking once more. “After that, I’ll come for you…if you still want me.” He spoke saying the last line so quietly that I almost missed it. “Now, you idiots better make sure that the camera is on the action or else.” He threatened. And with that he turned into sand and was gone in an instant.

“W-what the hell!!” The idiot red nose man spoke loudly after watching what crocodile has done. “What could that have meant by that?” Buggy asked to no one in particular.

“What the hell indeed.” I said feeling my heart ache at Crocodiles little speech. What did he mean by that? I decided to continue watching hoping that I’ll get my answer soon.

Third Person Pov

Soon after news of Portgas D. Aces execution being carried out immediately made everyone at marineford fight harder than before, on both sides. The fighting grew more violent as it was seconds before Ace would die. Monkey D. Luffy in particular was fighting the hardest to save his big brother only to be stopped by not only the three admirals, but his own grandfather. Just as the blades moved to Aces neck, an unexpected phenomenon occurred making everyone watching, including you, gasp with shock. Sand came rushing towards the execution block stopping the executioners from killing Portgus D. Ace. All eyes turned to see who had saved the boy only to see none other than the ex warlord, Sir Crocodile.

“You bastard!I thought it would be advantageous to have you here for the battle, since you hold a grudge against Whitebeard. Curse you Crocodile!” Fleet Admiral Sengoku yelled with visible frustration

“I can kill that old dying buzzard whenever o feel like it, but as for right now I’m not gonna let you taste victory. You and your crooked operation!” Crocodile responded fiercely looking towards where he thought the camera might be before looking back at Sengoku.

“Well, you just had to go an screw up all the fun!” Doflamingo laughed emerging from the crowd as he approached Crocodile.

“Fuck off.” Crocodile sighed

“Nah.” Doflamingo replied using his string-string fruit power to sever Crocodiles head making it fly to the ground in a pile of sand.

As quickly as the attack came, Crocodile’s head came back like it was never detached in the first place. However, a angry glare was now evident on his face as he quickly turned around attacking Doflamingo not caring at the moment if you were upset that he was defending himself. Doflamingo blocked the attack with his massive legs. The force of their combined attacks sending anyone near flying far. Crocodile looked at him with with pure anger and disgust as he pushed him back.

“I’ll never let you get her back!” Doflamingo yelled throwing his arms in the air.

“Good things you’re not going to stop me!” Crocodile snapped back before turning into a sand cloud wanting to get the hell off this battlefield so he could begin looking for his wife.

And with that the fight began once again. However, this time around tensions were higher than ever before. And eventually Straw hat Luffy managed to save his brother and the two of them began fighting together in order to make it out alive. With the help of their friends, they made it near the edge of the battle field only to be stopped by one of the fleet admirals who spoke crude words about Whitebeard causing Ace to turn around and confront him. However, once he did so, Akainu promptly turned his attention to straw hat nearly attacking him, only for Ace to get their first.

Your Pov

“Oh god no.” I cried out as your heart broke for the boys on the screen. “This just isn’t fair.” I said feeling tears falling down my cheeks.

I watched in horror at one of the Admirals punched at hole through Portgas D. Ace as his little brother Luffy watched. It was heartbreaking to say the least. I saw other pirates face off with the Admiral as Monkey D. Luffy held his brother in his arms as he died. The poor boys screams filled my soul with dread as I watched him mourn his now dead brother.

“This isn’t fair.” I said now sobbing mourning a man that I didn’t even know.

“And to think Crocodile helped save you. Even he knew that boy should have lived.” I sobbed feeling slight discomfort about feeling proud of my ex husband.

The rest of the battle went quickly with Marshall D. Teach joining the battle and promptly helping to kill Whitebeard. Crocodile and another ex warlord helping straw hat to safety, though that’s what I heard at the video transponder snail stopped showing any action. All that was shown was the scrambling feet of pirates and soldiers alike just trying to make it out alive. At this point I had see enough carnage to last a lifetime. I felt ill, heartbroken, and even more angry at the government than I already was. The thing that I had trouble coming to terms with was how I felt about Crocodile.

On one hand he hurt me so badly that I had to leave to my brother of all people, but on the other hand I had just witnessed him saving the life of a young boy. Which, I know he would never do, so what could have changed? My mind was frantic and my body was feeling weak from all of the crying I did. My heart went out to Straw hat luffy as that boy didn’t deserve any of this. I could only pray that he finds some sort of comfort after this.

One month week later…

The vibrant colors of pink, purple, and orange filled the Dressrosa sky with warmth as the day was just starting. It had been a month since the battle at Marineford and my brother was set to return today. Dread filled me as I stood against the railing of my bedroom terrace admiring the sky. I knew my brother would tell me everything that happened in gory detail. I knew he would laugh as he did. And I knew that if I showed an ounce of disgust he would insult me for it. As much as I love him, I also hate him just as much if not more.

“So much for brotherly love. ” I whispered feeling the warm rays of sun on my tired face.

Sleep had not come easy for me recently. Everything that I saw haunted me every time I tried to sleep. Watching that poor boy die was terrifying. It not like I haven’t seen someone die before, it was just the way he died that haunted me. The screams of Straw Hat Luffy still so vivid in my mind. Even thinking about it now breaks my heart.

I felt myself slipping further into despair and decided to get out of it as fast as possible. I focused my mind on otter things such as the fact that I watched Doflamingo try to kill my ex husband even though I specifically asked him not to. I know that I still hate Crocodile for the way he hurt me, but that crossed a line. Fury now bubbles in my heart and that I felt like I would burst.

Suddenly, a knock interrupted my murderous thoughts about my big brother. I whipped my head around with anger still evident on my face. A guard walked in, bowed, and deliver the news that Doflamingo had returned and requested that I meet him and the family in the throne room. I thanked him and began looking more presentable for a big meeting like that. What the hell could they want? Are they planning something that involves me somehow? Is it just a welcome party? Are they planning on killing Crocodile? I shook my head of these thoughts as the last one make my heart hurt more than I’d ever thought it would at this point in my life.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally made it to the throne room. As soon as I entered I noticed all of the “family” was there all sat on their mini thrones. My brother sat in his huge throne looking at me with a smug expression. All eyes are on me as I sat on a chair placed next to my brother. I then crossed my legs and placed my hands in my lap staring to feel a nervous sensation that something bad was about to happen.

“Welcome back brother.” I greeted trying to keep the mood normal.

“Glad to see you dear sister. Did you miss me?” He joked “I hope you saw what happened at marineford on the video transponder snail.” He added turning his head to me.

“Yes, I watched it. Although, I wish I hadn’t.” I replied honestly meeting his gaze trying my best to remain calm.

“So then, you watched your dear husband in action. What did you think?” He asked his tone shifting to a serious one slightly.

“Is that why you all gathered me here?” I asked looking around the room with slight disgust at the “family”.

“Answer the young master!” Trebol demanded getting up from his seat. “You should know to respect your brother, your king!” He added moving straight in front of my face. His stench filled my nose making me gag.

“Back the fuck up!” I sneered scooting back in my chair.

“Do as the princess says, Trebol.” Doflamingo finally spoke sounding bored.

“Ba-ha-ha! Okay!” Trebol replied quickly going back to his assigned seat.

“You can answer that question later, there are more pressing things to talk about.” Doflamingo spoke

“Okay, thank you.” I replied feeling grateful that I didn’t have to open that can of worms yet.

“Now, onto some real business. Y/n, my dear sister. You’ve been called here because it’s time you finally joined the family and became one of us.” Doflamingo spoke energetically

I sat there stunned a little at his demand. I already assumed that because I’m his sister that I was already part of the “family”. I couldn’t form any words as a mix of fear, anger, and slight joy swirled through my mind. I almost wish I was answering the question before. Sensing that tensions were high at my non verbal state, I quickly decided to respond with the first thing that came to my mind.

“What does it mean to be part of this family?” I asked slightly cringing at the question.

“Fufufu, don’t you know. It means that you work for me my sweet sister. That you are under my protection permanently and that you can have as many riches as you desire as long as you don’t betray me.” Doflamingo happily replied grabbing my hand with his much larger one, giving it an uncomfortable squeeze.

“I thought that I was already part of the family.” I said feeling uneasy at my own words. Something wasn’t right but I couldn’t figure out what.

“You seem uneasy dear sister.” Doflamingo said with a small frown not answering my previous question.

“I’m fine I promise, Doffy, I’m just surprised that you didn’t know that my loyalty stands with you.” I reassured hoping that he’d believe me and that I could leave this shitty situation.

“Good, let’s hope it stays that way. Wouldn’t want you to end up like our dear brother.” Doflamingo spoke stopping dead in his tracks.

“What do you mean?” I said as my heart pounded at the thought of what could be wrong with Rosinante.

“Oh my dear y/n, I suppose it’s time you knew. It’s only right since you’re part of the family.” Doflamingo spoke enthusiastically. “Our dear brother betrayed me, so I had to to the hard thing…” he said

“Hard thing?” I nervously asked

Doflamingo suddenly grabbed my hand holding it close to his massive body. A wide grin covered his face as his red glasses shone an even deeper color. At this moment I felt small, like prey being cornered by a predator. My body was screaming at me to leave and run away. Run away to any place that could hide me from this monster.

“I killed him. I killed our brother and not one day goes by that I don’t regret it!” He said proudly as the “family” all erupted in laughter.

“Wha-why would you?” My voice barely above a whisper

“Huh? Are you stupid or something?” Doflamingo asked genuinely surprised I couldn’t figure it out.

“N-no, sorry my mistake.” I replied trying to calm myself as I knew one wrong thing said and I could wind up seeing Rosi.

“Good, now that you know… do you still wish to be part of the family?” He asked happily like he didn’t just tell me the most horrific thing.

“O-of course! I was just surprised a bit, my apologies dear brother.” I replied hoping that my answer would satisfy him. No way in hell did I want to join his “family” especially after what he admitted to me.

“Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now you don’t resent your dear brother do you?” He asked seemingly testing my loyalty further.

“No of course not, what ever he did must have been horrible for you to need to kill him!” I replied trying my best to sound completely unbothered by the death of my brother.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” He paused eying me down. “Now, on to some important business.” He stated saying looking at his “family” completely ignoring my presence.

The meeting lasted hours with them mostly taking amongst themselves with my feedback rarely needed. The whole time my body felt like it was dying. For years I wondered where my brother was, what he was doing, and when I’d see him again. Part of me knew that he was dead but I never imagined that Doflamingo would have anything to do with it. I knew he was crazy and that he was capable of killing. I wasn’t there for my fathers death either, but now I can guess that Doflamingo was the one to do that too. My heart ached so badly but I knew showing any ounce of hurt could wind me up like other members of my family.

After what felt like an eternity, the “family” finally got up from their seats. I followed them smiling at them and making small conversations trying to appear as normal as possible. Many of them congratulated me on joining them and promised to protect me. Every single promise they made felt like a sharp knife twisting in my heart. As the flooded out of the room I realized that I was now fully alone with Doflamingo. My body slightly shook at the realization as a smile crept on my face.

“Thank you for giving me this chance brother!” I said bowing slightly. When I came back to look at him, I noticed a small tear on his face.

“You’re the only blood family I have left. It would be a shame to have to kill you y/n. Don’t disappoint me.” He spoke leaving the room too.

Now that everyone, including the guards were gone I allowed myself to collapse onto the floor. My whole body shook violently. The absolute terror I felt consumed me and I felt like I would suffocate under the weight of my own fear. I tried calming myself but my normal methods only seemed to make my panic worse. Finally, after far too long I decided to think of the one person that I knew I shouldn’t.

His face appeared in my mind. His steel eyes filled with love just for me. His soft raven hair that suited him perfectly. His lips that use to capture mine every day. His scar that he hated but filled me with so much warmth for him. To me this man was perfection manifest, and once he was all mine. I remember the way he use to hold me when I needed comfort. How warm he was and the scent that he wore. How his raspy voice always made me smile and blush.

The images of my husband flashed through my mind like a peaceful dream. Somehow even though he wasn’t here, he managed to calm me. My breathing steadied and my nerves were more manageable. The realization hit me hard as tears were streaming from my face. The feeling that I buried for so long now was finally coming back. The feeling of missing someone so precious. The feeling of missing my beloved, Crocodile.

“I wish you were here to take me away.” I whispered feeling defeated and utterly hopeless.

After a few more moments, I dried my tears and began walking back to my room. My body felt completely drained of energy. My steps felt so heavy uneven that I was sure that I was going to fall. However, no such thing happened. Soon I finally made it to my room on the other side of the palace. I landed straight onto my bed and as soon as I did, I felt sleep completely consume me. Soon I allowed my body to rest getting the sleep I desperately needed not knowing when I would be able to sleep now that I’m trapped by my deranged brother.

Meanwhile…

Crocodile’s Pov

“Mr 1, have you found a good man for the job?” I asked my friend hoping that finally we’d be able to accomplish this task.

“Yes sir, I found a man named Mr. Brown whose devil fruit will be perfect for this special operation.” Mr. 1 spoke with confidence.

“Hmm, good then…” I paused looking at Mr. 1. “Let’s go get my wife back.” I said smiling with anticipation of saving my y/n from her deranged brother.

Thank you so much for reading! Sorry for the delay for part 3💜 I hope you all liked it! Stay tuned for part 4! I promise this part won’t take nearly as long! I’m going to write for more one piece characters so please feel free to request some!!

Tag list: @mit-suri @buggs-1 @carmendany2 @eyes-ofhell @emmaiscool22 @oofitty @iloved1lfs0

Please feel free to like, comment, request, reblog, and follow

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3

[kikyo-writes]

"I like you, okay?!"

summary: katsuki struggles to confess to his crush.

tags: fluff, fem!reader

Katsuki is good at a lot of things, but when it comes to romance, he is a hopeless fool.  

In his defense, it’s not his fault. He’s spent the vast majority of his life focusing on one goal and one goal only—honing his Quirk so that he can become the Number One Hero. And he always thought that his attention would never sway, free of any unnecessary distractions.  

Until he met you.  

At the start of the first year at U.A, Katsuki didn’t think much of you. Well, he didn’t think much of any of his classmates, for that matter, but slowly but surely, the days passed, and he found his gaze lingering on you for a lot longer than he would’ve liked to admit.  

Katsuki tries to deny it at first. Something about you makes him feel... off. He's not sure why his chest gets uncomfortably tight when you speak to him, and it also doesn’t make any sense why his face heats up like never before. Maybe he’s sick, but if that were really the case, then he’s somehow been sick for the past few months.  

It takes someone else’s meddling for Katsuki to finally put the pieces together.  

“So, Bakugou, what’s up with you and [Name]?” Kaminari asks. “It feels like you treat her a bit differently than everyone else. Do you have a crush on her or something?”  

Kaminari was half-joking, but when Katsuki’s cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson—enough to rival his piercing eyes—everyone around him gasps.  

“Dude,” Kirishima chuckles. “No way. You actually like her, huh?”  

“The hell I do!” Katsuki immediately snaps back, but his voice cracks, and based on the way everyone smirks at him, he can tell he must not be very convincing.  

Kaminari grins. “Wow, I hit the nail right on the head! You’ve gotta confess, man! [Name]’s really popular, so if you wait around too long, someone else might beat you to it!”  

“You idiots are out of your damn minds,” Katsuki grits out, and without wasting a beat, he shoves his hands in his pockets and stomps off.  

They’re just being stupid like always. Seriously, him, having a crush on someone? The Bakugou Katsuki? As if he has the time or energy to waste on mushy shit like that. It’s so ridiculous he’s almost tempted to laugh.  

But then he takes a moment to consider Kaminari’s words.  

“If you wait around too long, someone else might beat you to it.”  

Katsuki isn’t sure why, but he briefly imagines you being asked out by another person, someone who isn’t him. He imagines you laughing with them, hooking your arm around theirs, and last but certainly not least, leaning forward to meet them in a kiss.  

The image evokes a visceral reaction from him, and in that moment, he swears his heart nearly stops beating. 

And then comes the realization.  

Oh, fuck.  

He’s in deep shit.  

As much as Katsuki would like to say that he’s made progress since realizing that he likes you, that unfortunately isn’t the case.  

If anything, the self-awareness has just made things worse. Before, he could at least talk to you like a semi-normal person, but now, your interactions usually go something like this:  

“Good morning, Katsuki,” you greet. “How’d you do on yesterday’s assignment? To be honest, I was kind of rushing to finish it on time. It felt like it was harder than usual.”  

Katsuki parts his lips to respond, but the longer he stares at you, the faster his heart races.  

He ends up walking away out of sheer embarrassment.  

“Man,” Kirishima sighs. “That was painful to watch.”

“Shut up!” Katsuki hisses. “What the fuck do you want me to do?!”  

“Just be normal. Be yourself.” Kirishima pauses for a few moments. “Actually... maybe that’s not the best advice.”  

“Oh, piss off!"  

It goes on like this for a while. Every time you engage him in casual, friendly conversation, Katsuki finds himself freezing up completely. It’s ironic, because he has the confidence to take on fearsome villains with ease, and yet this is what has him scared shitless.  

Goddammit. Katsuki never realized that liking someone would be such a test of his strength.  

Unfortunately, he’s too caught up in his own feelings that he doesn’t stop to consider how all of this looks from your perspective.  

“Katsuki,” you approach him one day, and for some reason, you’re frowning. “Hey. Can you please be honest with me? Did I do something to upset you, or what? Because it feels like you’ve been ignoring me lately.”  

He blinks. “What? No. If I had a problem with you, I’d tell you.”  

“Well, that’s what I thought too. So then... why do you keep avoiding me? Does it just bore you having to listen to me talk?”  

Hardly. Katsuki could probably listen to you talk for hours upon hours without getting bored. You have a pretty face, a pretty voice, and whenever you smile or laugh, it makes him want to do the same.  

It suddenly dawns on him that this is probably the best chance he’ll get. It’ll be bad news if he lets this misunderstanding drag out any further. He doesn’t want you to think that you don’t like him, because that’s the furthest thing from the truth.  

Come on. He can do this. He’s Bakugou Katsuki, for fuck’s sake. It’s time to stop acting like a coward and own up to how he feels.  

“I,” Katsuki starts shakily, “I...”  

You raise a brow. “You...?”  

“I...”  

“...?”  

Holy shit, this is so much harder than he anticipated. He’ll take a punch to the face over a confession any day of the week.  

But no, he can’t give up, goddammit! Again, he’s Bakugou Katsuki! Resident badass! The (self-proclaimed) future Number One Hero! 

The words feel like bile rushing up his esophagus, and even though they burn like hell, he finally, finally manages to spit them out.  

“I like you, okay?!”  

He did it. He’s violently flushed in the face and keeps having to gasp to reclaim his breath, but at long last, the truth is out in the open.  

And now for the part that he didn’t even stop to consider. Seeing how you'll react.  

“Oh,” you blink in response. You’re visibly taken aback, and you clear your throat, stopping to ponder your next words. “Well, that’s—”  

“Shut up, shut up, shut up! I don’t want to hear it!”  

Katsuki books it the hell out of there before he can hear what you have to say. He supposes he’s unlocked a new fear: rejection. The way he handled this whole situation is lame, it’s childish as hell, and he knows it, but when it comes to this stuff, it looks like he’s much more of a coward than he first thought.  

Meanwhile, you giggle softly as you watch him run off.  

“What a dork. He didn’t even wait for me to say I like him back.”  

[sinkovia]

Coffee Shop: VII

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee shop Masterlist

The next morning as Simon lay in bed, he clicked on the link you texted him about the adoption website. Navigating to the section for dogs, he was surprised to find only one listing – the last puppy up for adoption.

It was a male German Shepherd puppy, approximately two months old. Knowing the pup was too young for K-9 training, Simon decided that having a companion at home would be comforting until then. Quickly filling out the online form, within ten minutes, the puppy was officially Simon's.

The shelter informed him that his new furry friend would be ready for pick-up at noon. Simon went about his morning routine, enjoying breakfast and engaging in a rigorous workout until it was time to pick him up.

Leaving the shelter, Simon stared at the small canine now occupying the passenger seat. The puppy looked up at him with big brown eyes, tilting its head to the side. Simon reached over and noticed the collar was blank.

“No name, huh?” he mused, and the puppy yawned in response.

"Like a little ghost," Simon remarked, and the puppy turned its head, seemingly considering the suggestion.

"Should your name be Ghost, hmm? Well, that might be a bit confusing on base." The puppy whined and laid down in the seat. 

"Ghost Jr.?" The puppy didn't seem convinced, and Simon nodded, "Yeah, it doesn't have the same ring to it."

Simon reached for his phone and snapped a picture of the puppy, deciding to seek suggestions for a name from the team by sending it to the group chat Johnny had created.

Ghost: Name recs?

Johnny: Bartholomew

Captain: Bloody hell, Soap...

Johnny: What about Ghost Jr.? He has your eyes, L.t.

Gaz: Doesn’t really have a ring to it, mate.

Ghost: Thought so too.

Captain: That little pup does look like a Riley.

Ghost looked at the message and back at the puppy.

“What do you think of the name Riley?” The puppy stood up and started walking over to Simon, nestling himself in his lap before closing his eyes.

“Okay, Riley, I gotta drive, mate; you can't sleep there.” Simon picked him up and placed him back on the passenger seat, but Riley got up and made his way back into his lap.

“Bloody hell. Fine, just don’t move around or I’ll crash.”

Simon picked up a few things for him on the way home and set up a corner of the living room for him. After finishing, he sat down on the couch and took a few different pictures of Riley, sending them to you.

When Simon's name lit up on your phone, you eagerly grabbed it, swiping it open to reveal his notification. Your mouth dropped at the sight of the adorable puppy.

Y/n: WOW, you actually adopted him!? He’s so cute!! Did you decide on a name?

Simon: Riley.

He sent another picture of Riley, the puppy looking down at the camera, lifting his paw up, and you nearly melted.

Y/n: Riley is such a cute name for him. Have you bought him any clothes or toys?

Simon smiled as his eyes read over the message. So, you think his last name is cute, huh?

Simon: Riley is my last name.

Simon: Clothes? Dogs need clothes?

Y/n: Oh, I didn’t know that. The name suits him. He’s like a mini you :)

Y/n: They don’t need clothes, but it makes them look really cute. He might need little shoes since it’s getting colder.

Both you and Simon found yourselves smiling at your phones as you texted back and forth. The conversation shifted, and you asked him about his day. You even sent him a picture of your cat Missy, to which he replied.

Simon: She looks hateful.

Y/n: No, she doesn’t! She looks cute.

Throughout the day, you and Simon exchanged a few pictures. Simon shared more photos of Riley, curled up next to him while watching a movie. In return, you sent a picture of yourself in your garden, busy planting new flowers.

This led to Simon asking more about your garden, and you gladly shared details about your favorite plants and flowers. You took him on a virtual photo tour of your backyard, showcasing a thriving fruits and vegetables garden. 

Simon: What type of stuff you growin?

Y/n: Some onion, garlic, potatoes, cabbage, cauliflower, zucchini, carrots, and some others I can’t remember off the top of my head.

Y/n: I even have a cute little apple tree! 

You snapped a picture of Missy sunbathing next to your basket full of produce. Simon smiled at the stretched-out cat, leaning over to show Riley the picture.

“You fond of cats?” Riley started nibbling on the hem of Simon's jacket.

The following day, in the afternoon, you found yourself finishing the batch of apple strudels you had baked, only to realize you had made too much. A sigh escaped you as you surveyed the pan filled with the pastries and glanced at the abundance of produce you had harvested the day before. The realization hit that, being just one person, much of it would go to waste before you could use it all.

You decided to put some of the strudels into a container. Grabbing an extra basket, you carefully arranged half of the vegetables you had picked yesterday.

I'm sure Simon wouldn’t mind a free delivery?

With a small basket and container in hand, you made your way up his driveway and rang the doorbell. Simon peeked through the peephole and cursed when he saw you on the other side.

“Just a second.”

He quickly retreated to his bedroom, donning sweatpants and a hoodie before returning to the door, opening it.

“Hi, sorry to bother you so randomly in the day. I just wanted to drop these off since I had extra.” Simon looked down at the basket in your hands, and then his gaze went to you. He was about to thank you when Riley went between his legs, walking to you. Your eyes grew wide, and you put the basket down on the ground.

“Hi Riley, aw, look at how cute you are.” Simon smiled down at you, loving the way his last name sounded when you said it. Riley was licking your face, and you laughed.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude if you're busy.”

“Wasn’t doing much before you came.” 

Simon had been lying in bed, watching a Gordon Ramsey cooking video in nothing but his briefs.

“Okay,” you smiled up at him, and he reached over, grabbing the basket you brought. You picked up Riley, and both of you walked inside. 

Simon's living room bore witness to his minimalistic approach to decor, featuring only a couch, a TV, and a coffee table. As you stood in his living room, the blank walls and empty space caught your attention.

“Sorry love, don’t really know how to decorate.” You laughed, placing Riley down.

“There’s actually a Ross not too far from here. Maybe you could get a lamp… or two. Maybe a painting?” You glanced around, noticing the absence of a dining table or any items on the counters in the kitchen.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this house was for sale.” Simon laughed, placing the basket you brought on the counter.

Simon raised an eyebrow. “Never heard of a Ross.” You turned to face him, eyes wide, “You're joking, right?”

“Dead serious, love.” You pulled out your phone and showed him a picture of the Ross building. “You're telling me you’ve never been inside one of these?”

Simon shook his head again. What was the big deal about this store?

"They have everything in this store! Furniture, clothes, skincare, shoes, purses, home decor, even some spices and snacks, but I wouldn’t trust it. You have to go, Simon! They even have clothes and toys for dogs.” Glancing at the time, Simon looked back at you.

“You have anywhere to be right now?”

“No, I don’t really have things planned on the weekends besides spending time with Missy.”

“You think she’d mind if you were gone for a few hours.” Your smile grew as you caught on to what he was hinting at.

“No.”

Simon placed Riley in the large cage he had bought, and the drive to Ross took only around five minutes. The short trip to the store became a chance for Simon to discover more about your interests and preferences for small talk of course, not that he wanted to know more about you, of course not.

As you walked into Ross, you rambled on about various pieces of furniture and decor, grabbing a cart and leading Simon towards the furniture section. Simon's eyes widened as he checked the price tag for a nightstand.

“Are these things broken or chipped? Why are they so bloody cheap?”

You laughed as Simon added the nightstand to his cart. Navigating through the store, you selected a stylish black lamp, and Simon followed suit, placing it in his cart. Moving on to the decor aisle, you looked at various candles, allowing Simon to sample a few before he settled on one with a pine scent. 

You continued adding small decor items for Simon's coffee table – throw pillows, throw blankets, a rug, a bookshelf, minimalist frames, place mats, and even a skull wax warmer with some clean linen scented melts. Your choices filled the cart with a mix of stylish and cozy additions for Simon's home.

In the kitchen aisle, you insisted on essential items – a fruit basket, organizers for his pantry and fridge, additional pots and pans, and more cooking utensils. Simon, who only owned one pan and one of each silverware, recognized the practicality in your suggestions.

In another aisle, he saw you looking at a cat mug before putting it back and wandering into another section. He quickly grabbed the mug and placed it at the bottom of his cart before making his way to you.

“You ready, love?” You hid something behind your back and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll meet you up front. I just need to look at something real quick.”

You found yourself in the doggy section of the pet aisle, examining various toys and outfits for Riley. Noticing he only had one rope chew toy, you felt compelled to get him more. You selected a little squeaky bone chew toy, a tuxedo, a sweater, and some adorable little shoes – perhaps a size too big, but too cute to resist. To complete the ensemble, you even chose a fluffy bed for him to sleep on.

Doubt crept in – was this too much? Should you put something back? Would Simon find it odd? Shaking off the uncertainty, you shrugged and placed everything in your cart. As you made your way to the registers, you spotted a clearance aisle filled with past holiday-themed items. A cute black and white skull mug caught your eye, and you picked it up.

He asked you to draw skulls on his bookmark, and he really liked the skull wax warmer. I’m sure he’d like this.

 Placing it in your cart, you walked to the registers. Meeting Simon at the front after both of you finished paying, you helped him carry his bags to the car while he handled the nightstand.

When you returned to Simon's house, you dove into helping him unpack everything in the living room. You organized items, rearranged furniture, and experimented with different placements until the layout felt just right.

While you were busy making his home feel cozier, Simon had taken charge in the kitchen, using the ingredients you brought to prepare a meal. He made oven-roasted vegetables and steak, with guidance from a Gordon Ramsey video. Pulling the newly purchased mug from the Ross bag, he washed it and filled it with ice water.

Unbeknownst to Simon, you had stationed yourself on the floor behind the couch, secretly dressing Riley in a little tuxedo. Just as you finished putting on his tiny pants, Simon walked over with two plates, setting them down on the coffee table. Trying to conceal Riley, you quickly grabbed some black kids' sunglasses from the bag and placed them on Riley before picking him up and showing Simon.

“He looks like the dog from the bookmark! I couldn’t find a toy assault rifle, though.” Simon paused for a few seconds, looking at Riley and you holding him up with a big smile. He laughed and picked Riley up, your hands brushing against each other for a moment.

Simon couldn’t ignore the way his heart skipped a beat, feeling your hand against his. A foreign sensation of touch, yet Simon found himself yearning for his hand to linger against yours a few seconds longer.

“I have to show the boys this.” Simon laughed, handing Riley back to you so you could hold him up. He took a picture from the side, excluding you, but the moment he sent it, the boys bombarded his phone with questions, asking if those were your hands and if you two were on a date.

“I also got him another outfit, it’s this sweater and some little shoes for when you take him outside when it starts snowing.” Simon smiled as you gestured towards the other outfit laid out on the couch.

“Thank you, love, for spending your money on him. You really didn’t have to.” You smiled and got up, sitting on the couch.

“It’s no problem at all. I wanted to see him dressed up.”

“He’s definitely going to be a ladies' man at the dog park now.” You laughed, finally noticing the two plates on the coffee table.

“Oh! Is this for me?” Simon walked over to the kitchen, bringing your new mug. “No, it’s actually for Riley.” He approached you with a grin and placed the mug down on the table in front of you.

Your eyes grew wide upon seeing it. “Oh my god! I was thinking about getting this mug at Ross!”

“It’s yours, love, and I cooked dinner for us as a thank you for spending your day helping me spruce up my place and for sharing your garden with me.” You smiled, looking at the delicious meal in front of you. Simon had used the potatoes, carrots, and everything you gave him. The aroma filled the air, and you realized how hungry you were. Almost forgetting the mug you had bought him, you dug through the bag and pulled it out.

“I almost forgot. I actually got you a mug.” When you handed it to him, he smiled, looking at the little skulls.

“You know me so well.” You smiled up at him, and the moment lingered for a few seconds before Riley tried to jump on the coffee table to get to the food.

Simon put on a movie, and both of you enjoyed dinner together, sitting on opposite ends of the couch and sipping from the cups you had bought for each other. After finishing, you insisted on washing the dishes he used to cook, despite his multiple offers to handle it. You expressed gratitude for his effort in cooking, considering the least you could do was tackle the dishes.

Once done, you both indulged in an apple strudel, using the moment to learn more about Simon—his favorite color, a few favorite foods, little details that brought you closer. As the night grew late, you decided it was time to head back home.

“I should really head back home; it’s late.” Despite spending the day with you, Simon felt a twinge of disappointment at your leaving.

“Let me grab my keys; I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh, are you sure? I mean, I only live a few houses down.”

“I insist; it’s dark out. You only live a few houses down anyway; it’s no bother.”

Strapping Riley to a leash, the three of you walked to your house. You pointed out various flowers and plants around your front door, and Simon mentally noted them down, remembering the ones you said you didn't have.

“I had a lot of fun today, and thank you again for cooking and for the mug.” Simon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket while Riley sniffed around your flowers.

“I should be the one thanking you; my house doesn't look like a prison cell anymore.” You laughed and lightly shook your head. “Maybe next time you could come over, and I could show you how to grow a thing or two. You could meet Missy.”

“Sounds like a plan, love.” You smiled and kneeled down to say goodbye to Riley.

“I’ll talk to you later, goodnight Simon.” You grabbed the keys from your pocket and unlocked your door.

“Goodnight, love.”

When you closed the door behind you, Riley let out a low whine. Simon turned and began walking away.

“I know, Riley. I feel the same way.”

[0wlettie]

based off this tweet that kind of just hijacked my brain and now i’ve gotta jot something down for it, with my own added spin ofc; warning, messy asl and incredibly self indulgent idk man i just love reader being down bad and unhinged for the boys ;;;;

professor!rafayel x obsessed stalker!reader

you love art. though your own skills are mediocre at best, you still find joy through creating and observing.

your love for art leads you here now, in your final year of high school and on a field trip to a nearby pop up exhibit filled with rookie artists looking to showcase their works. and, as one of the few kids actually engaged in the different mediums shown and being the only senior in the class, your teacher allows you a bit more freedom to wander on your own. so you casually meander down the different exhibits, fascinated by the sculptures and different paintings you come across. there are even a few of the artists loitering about, and you have a conversation here and there with them about their pieces and other things like that. eventually, you find yourself in a small corner of the pop up, drawn in by the red velvet ropes blocking off people from getting closer, as well as the few envious and awed whispers you can pick up from nearby gossiping rookies.

curious, your eyes sway over to the area. your breath hitches and your mouth drops a little in shock at what you see.

stretched to fit the wall from top to bottom, it’s the largest painting at the pop up. half the painting is cut by dark, rolling waves, the other half covered by a jagged cliffside. moonlight reflects off the top of the ocean, the stars dotting across the sky in abstract patterns. you even think you can make out a few constellations nestled among the sparkling white dots.

you can almost hear the gentle ‘whoosh’ of the waves as they crash against the bottom of the cliff. can almost feel the sea breeze as it brushes against your cheeks, cool and akin to a lover’s caress. can almost smell the sea salt rising on the cold dark of the night. there’s a profound feeling emitting from the painting, one that surprises you in its intensity.

‘loneliness.’

the beauty you see is absolutely breathtaking, but the loneliness stands out to you the most. there’s a sorrow buried within the dark shade of the ocean, empty despite reflecting the brilliant light of the moon. a yearning found within the jagged strokes of the cliff, like it’s sitting there and waiting for someone they know won’t return. the differing shades of blue that make up the piece echo out strong notes of melancholy, and your eyes burn the longer that feeling lingers around you. tears prick the corners of your eyes and a lump forms within your throat. its visceral, the ache you feel looking at this painting. you understand intimately how crushing and all consuming that feeling of loneliness can bring.

you instantly fall in love with the painting.

your eyes flick to the plaque sitting in front. there’s no name for the painting you can see, but the artist name is printed in flowing cursive script that you easily read. ‘rafayel’ sprawls across the starch white of the card, and you have the sudden need to meet this person. to see them and figure out just what made them create such a painting like this. a painting that seems to speak directly to you.

it doesn’t take you long to search up the artist online.

rafayel qi is a few years older than you are and hails from verona. he’s a newbie in the art scene, a nobody really, but his natural talent and skills quickly make him somebody. you understand why, seeing one of his paintings first hand. what you don’t understand, however, is the lack of information about him besides his name, age and his birth city. there’s basically nothing about him on the web; no pictures, social media, no interviews or q&a’s, not even a website for him to showcase his art. nothing! it drives you insane that you can’t seem to find out anything about him, and for a week straight you try your damndest too. even begging/bribing your nerdy techie of a classmate to try and dig up something, but even she can’t find much more. which leaves you out of two hundred dollars and with no answers.

so you desperately keep your ear out while weeks turn into months and you graduate from high school. when you get the barest of news that rafayel signed with an agent and is now doing more galleries, you nearly cry from joy. you try your best to get tickets to his future galleries, but they’re all so stupidly expensive and high class that your poor wallet can’t afford to spare the money—not when you’ve got to pay for the university expenses that your scholarship can’t cover.

(and yes, you did manage to skirt by just well enough to snag the art scholarship you have. you don’t personally think you have what it takes in terms of talent, but your hard work pays off when you really set your mind to it and buckle down. your medium of choice is a bit old fashioned and tricky to maneuver, but you like the feeling of charcoal and how pretty you can make those dark smudges look. you even experiment a little when it comes to adding color to your sketches, though your various attempts are abysmal and you vow to never show anyone how bad they look.)

so you try and wait for another opportunity, stalking forums and art news websites for any other information you can possibly get your hands on. it’s here, one random wednesday afternoon while scrolling through your social feed in the university library, that you come across an article. they’re talking about up and coming artists, and your fingers are already clicking on the link before you can even think about it. it takes a moment for the page to load, but when it does, you choke your spit.

there’s a picture there to greet you, one that sets your face ablaze and makes your chest throb with how fast your heart is beating. in the lower right hand corner, you can see in tiny text words that frazzle your mind. ‘rafayel qi (left) posing with interviewer lea smith (right) in front of his newest piece.’

your eyes bounce back and forth from the painting you see to the ethereally beautiful man shooting the camera a slight smirk. his arms are crossed, one hand buried within the crook of his elbow, the other almost playfully clutching a paintbrush. his hair looks artfully tousled, colored a pretty purple that compliments the strange color of his eyes that you can just barely make out from behind the screen of your phone. you still aren’t sure what color they are, and no matter how many times you crop and zoom in, you can’t be certain if they’re purple or blue. fitted in an unbuttoned white shirt and tight black slacks that emphasize the length of his legs and the tight shape of his waist, with flawless pale skin and an unfairly pretty face, you know that you’re immediately gone.

the need coursing through you to finally meet this man is intense. you feel as if you’re about to shake out of your skin the longer you look at the photo, and you don’t hesitate to download it and crop out the lady, until it’s just rafayel staring back at you. you immediately switch back to the article and read through it, taking your time to admire the newest piece to his collection before rereading the article a few times—just to really cement the information in your mind. as lame and bland as the questions are, you feel as if you’re accomplishing something anyway. the little information you get paints a picture of the artist that’s captured your attention so thoroughly. of rafayel, who is hands down the most gorgeous person you’ve ever come across.

it becomes sort of a…compulsion, after that. you use that picture you’ve gotten as your home and lockscreen. and your idle time outside of school work and your part time job is spent endlessly searching for more crumbs. as the months morph into a year, then two, your collection of rafayel pictures grows exponentially. the artist chooses to somewhat engage with the outside world more, and you honestly can’t be more grateful. you don’t get many interviews after that, unfortunately, so your information is still limited even now. but still! any piece you gather feels like a win, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem.

you know he’s a pisces and that his birthday is march 6th. you know that he never officially went to any art school, and that he’s got a natural gift for picking apart color swatches and shades. you know that he’s charismatic enough to carry conversations, and while you can see someone playful peak through his aloof demeanor every now and again, he more often than not stays distant when being interviewed. you know that he truly has a passion for art of any kind, and that his own speaks deeply for him. he continuously paints about lemuria, the recently discovered ancient ruins of a civilization long thought to be a myth. you know he holds that place close to him, based off the haunting and sorrowful energy radiating from his works, but the why of it still escapes you.

you think you know him as well as a certified stranger can, and it gnaws at you that you don’t know more. you feel like a beast, really, with how much you hunger for more of him. with how strong the desire to meet with him, to speak to him is. it frightens you, these intense feelings you have. but that fear easily gets pushed to the wayside whenever you catch a glimpse of rafayel’s picture in your phone, or when you happen to catch sight of a lake or ocean wide enough for the reflection to glimmer underneath the sun. there’s just something about him that captivates you entirely, and you have no choice but to give in to that desire to be near him. but he rarely makes physical appearances outside of private galas and exhibits. so you’re stuck watching him through your screen, constantly checking for updates or idly staring at his pretty face captured in various subtle expressions.

you glance at your phone screen as you stick close to the walls of the university hallway. it’s a picture of him, caught in a side profile and wearing an expensive dark blue suit. a candid caught by a fansite you’ve been following—a fansite that takes commissions for a hefty price. a price you were more than willing to pay two weeks ago. as bad a financial decision that was, it still makes you happy regardless. you’ve got two brand new pictures of rafayel, two pictures that only you have access too. it’s like you were the one to take those pictures, if you really think about it.

because you feel like it, you flick open your phone and look at the second picture you paid for. rafayel’s face is turned to the side and some of his hair is obscuring his eyes, so you still can’t determine the damn color, but the visual of his defined and exposed collarbone more than make up for it. you sigh a little, a smile curling up the corner of your lip as you click your phone closed. you shake it a little and wait for it to briefly light up, sighing again when you get another glimpse of the first photo.

looking at rafayel so early in the morning is like a shot of espresso for you. this particular course—art theory & critical studies—is one that’s criminally early, and you’re dead fucking tired from being up the night prior reading the latest article about rafayel. nothing new for you was found, but it’s hard for you to ignore things like that, not when there’s a chance you could find out something new. you notice the time and grimace a bit, picking up your slow walk to more of a power walk/light jog mix.

you’re on your way to class now, and while you aren’t exactly late, you will be if you don’t hurry. it’s the beginning of your third year at university and while you feel like your artistic sense has grown, you still don’t feel super confident in your work. not enough to want to deal with professor kim and his harsh critiques and boring lectures. but, unfortunately, if you want to continue being in school at such a steep discount, you have to follow the rules and guidelines to your scholarship. so here you are, power walking into class with a grim look on your face more suitable for a soldier rather than a uni student.

you walk so fast in your haste that you actually end up tripping over the lip of the door to class. your phone slips out of your hand like it was especially greased for you to drop, and it clatters to the floor with a loud noise. the sound immediately draws stares to you, and you can feel your face burn from embarrassment. and because your day can’t get any worse, you watch as your phone slides across the ground until they land at an unfamiliar pair of loafers. you frown, eyes trailing up mile long legs clad in brown slacks. up, up, up your eyes go until you land on a face you never imagined you’d see in person.

you swear that everyone in the room can hear how your heartbeat stutter and stops, like the dying engine of a motor as you stare into the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. you understand why you’ve never been able to place the color now, the bright blue of rafayel’s iris mingles with a soft pink, producing a hypnotizing effect as he blinks. you’re suddenly reminded of sunsets; of those moments right before the sun fully peeks over the horizon, the sky blazing in various hues of purple, pink and blue.

embarrassingly, you find that your throat is completely dry as you watch him glance down. with a raised eyebrow and a decidedly unamused quirk of his lip, he bends down and picks up your phone. your jerk forward, but it’s already too late because as soon as your phone jostles, your screen lights up and rafayel is faced with your lock screen.

he freezes in place, the look in his eyes going unreadable as he stares down at his own photo.

your entire body tenses, and you feel like the entire class is staring at you two, which only serves to make you even more nervous. you didn’t think this day would come. never in your life would you have imagined seeing him here if all places, in your uni class. and dressed like that? a smart brown suit that molds to his lean figure, black leather gloves, sparkling silver glasses and small black gauges to top off the look. you think you might actually just keel over and die—either from the fear, embarrassment or the sudden wash of horny thoughts flooding your mind. you honestly don’t know which one you’d prefer.

he finally moves what feels like years later, but was in actuality only a few moments of awkward silence. you’re expecting him to be grossed out, maybe even a little scared and uncomfortable. it can’t feel good to come across a complete stranger and see that they have you saved as their lockscreen, like some creepy fan. what you aren’t expecting, however, is the smug curl of his lips. his eyes flick to meet yours, and your rapidly pounding heart stops at the look he gives you. full of something dark and hot enough to make you twitch.

‘you dropped this, miss…?’ he easily hands over the phone, bending down slightly like…like he wants to get a better look at you. the musical lilt of his voice turns the slightest bit playful as he lightly cocks his head to the side. it’s a cheeky gesture, and you awkwardly fumble for your phone, keeping his stare the entire time. your fingers brush against his skin and you can’t fight off the shiver that travels down your spine and up your arms, goosebumps raising long your skin. you go to take your hand back, but you freeze when you can feel the slightest hint of resistance. he raises an eyebrow, and you nearly short circuit at the sight of his pretty eyes staring at you over the slouch of the silver frames hanging low on his nose.

right, your name. he’s asking…oh my god fucking rafayel qi is asking for your name—

‘[✦].’ you shakily tell him, and your phone easily goes with you next time you pull. he hums, eyes giving you a full once over before standing to his full height. he gives you a smile, the expression polite and distant as he nods. his entire body language screams professionally cold, but the stare he gives you is the complete opposite.

‘alright then, have a seat miss [✦]. class is about to start.’

your brain turns to complete mush, and you move on autopilot as your name in his voice echoes in your mind. before you realize it, your seated in the front row of the lecture hall. it’s only after rafayel introduces himself to the class, after he begins a powerpoint on art theory and what it means, after you’ve been dazedly staring at him for nearly half the class, do you finally understand what this means.

rafayel is here, teaching your uni course on art theory.

rafayel is going to be your professor.

yah so, uh, this is a thing i hope ya’ll like it >_< i really like how this turned out and am v proud of it so maybe this will get a part two ??? we’ll see, but for now enjoy this lil bit !!

i am a 18+ blog so if you follow and are a minor/ ageless you will be blocked

[yawnderu]

Doomed — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Idea by @actuallyhiswife from this post!

Alternative happy ending here.

Black. It's all you can see, all senses numbed by the water sneaking into your lungs, burning everything in its wake like a raging fire. You can feel it— her pain is your pain, his distress while he holds the body of his lover is just as yours, even when you don't recognize these people.

''Shh, s'alright love, I'm here.'' Simon's deep voice snaps you back to reality, your lungs greedily taking in the air like a man starved. You suck in a sharp breath at the touch of his bare fingers against your stomach, one of his bloodied hands coming up to cup your cheek while the other one applies pressure to the bullet wound.

"What h—" A groan takes over your sentence, face scrunched up in pain as your brain finally registers that you got shot. Blood pours out of the wound no matter how much pressure his strong hands apply, now using both of them in hopes that'll keep you alive.

"Stay with me." It's not an order, it's a plea, tone laced by pure desperation. You cry out as the bullet digs deeper into your flesh, tears already falling down your cheeks at the pure agony, body growing weaker and weaker as the blood pours out of your body.

"Simon." You call out softly and he ignores it, refusing to let you go. Refusing to let the sun that casts away his shadows go. Simon finally had one good thing in life, and he'll be damned if he ever lets it go.

"Simon." You call out again only to be ignored. Your bloodied hand manages to drag its way onto Simon's forearm, squeezing gently to get his attention.

"I love you. I'm sorry we—" A choked breath escapes his lips as he takes in your image. Roughed up and dirty, yet still the prettiest fucking thing he's seen his whole life.

"I'm sorry we can't go pet the fluffy cows in Scotland together." A small laugh manages to come out of your lips, followed by a cough. He recognizes that look in your tear-covered eyes, the way you're trying your hardest to fight death barehanded... and losing.

"Don't say that." He grunts out, the pressure he's applying on the wound growing weaker by the second as he prepares himself to accept whatever life will throw at him, as usual.

"We'll go pet those bloody cows together— maybe even stay over at Johnny's." He promises, having spent countless nights listening to you ramble on about going to Scotland just to meet Johnny's family and pet the fluffy cows he claimed they have.

"Just gotta stay with me, pretty girl." His hands come up to adjust your body so that you're laying on him, his back against the wall of the abandoned building as he cradles you.

You don't have the energy to speak, still managing to give him a lethargic nod, eyelids growing heavier by the second. You can barely hear his voice, everything sounding muffled all of sudden, but you register the kiss planted to your lips, his balaclava pulled all the way off.

"Marry me." You nod, allowing yourself to entertain him as life slips away from you. His tone is raw, trying and failing to cover up the pure agony that he's feeling.

"Do you—" He chokes up, taking a deep breath to calm himself down, knowing he doesn't have a lot of time left with you.

"Do you take Simon Riley as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?" Another weak nod.

"I do." You manage out, trying your best to ignore the taste of blood in your mouth, eyes finally rolling to the back of your head as your eyelids close, unable to keep them open anymore.

His shaky hand holds your left one, carefully drawing a circle around your ring finger with your own blood. It's all he can do for now— the real engagement ring is back on base, carefully tucked away in his closet.

He holds you close for what feels like forever, ignoring the way your body gets colder and stiffer as the hours go by. He plants gentle kisses onto your hair, refusing to see your face, wanting his last image of you to be when you smiled at him. Simon Riley, the man who always kept everyone at arm's length, had to be ripped off of your body by Johnny and Price once they found you.

The day you left him, the little humanity Simon had died alongside you. He could barely eat, was drinking himself to sleep every single night to numb the pain, and yet his dreams were just as restless. His mind had been plagued with images of lovers seeing each other die, each time just as tragic. He couldn't recognize the people in his dreams up until it was his turn to watch you die over and over— that's when he understood. Simon Riley always thought he was cursed, yet seeing the other piece of his soul die over and over again in his arms? It was pure agony.

He stumbled to his desk, harshly putting down the bottle of bourbon he downed in less than an hour. His shaky hand opened the cabinet, looking at his service pistol with contempt before reaching out for it.

[yanderenightmare]

Do you normally get any 'ew, you're disgusting' shit in your inbox? I just now posted my first incest fic and got one like 'i hope you don't have any siblings lalala'. Prior to that, I was like "how do these authors go untouched by antis?" but then I realised that it was a tad bit naive of me lol. I was going to respond with a taunt but decided to just delete it because it wasn't worth the effort.

Are they frequent and are they easy to ignore?

On Dealing with Haters/Critics

Good question! I was actually going to make a post on this, as others have asked me the same thing, so here we go!

♡ Personal Experience!

I get my fair share of hate from time to time—more often when I publish things that are more taboo than other excepted things—for example, like you say, incest, as well as bestiality, wide age gap, born-sexy-yesterday readers, etc.

It's an odd thing, as haters will often accept the fact that I write rape for titillation but will take issue with these other tropes. But anyway, we can talk about the nonsensical opinions of haters all day, but it wouldn't really do us any good.

So, here's my advice.

♡ First Off, Accept that Haters are Gonna Hate!

Some people won't like what you write. And that's fine. The problem is that they feel the need to tell you that—at which point, you'll just have to console yourself by telling yourself that no decent person would be rude to a total stranger whom they don't know the first thing about and, therefore, whatever they have to say warrants neither second thought nor reply.

With that being said, however...

♡ You Gotta Do What Feels Right!

Engage or don't engage, do what you need to feel at peace. Sure, you can be the so-called bigger man and ignore all the meanies, but you absolutely don't have to!

Of course, we can be cool as cucumbers and say, "Not worth the effort," but who are we kidding? This is Tumblr, and you're allowed to rant when you want in whatever manner you want!

So, if you feel you gotta bite back to maintain your sanity, then that's what you should!

However, I do believe there's a way to go about it!

♡ Never Go to Bed Angry!

This is my personal advice, but if you ever choose to acknowledge hate or critique, do so with tact and with based and factual arguments instead of slinging heated insults in return.

This way, you walk away from the fight feeling good about what you've said and not worse off than before. In other words, don't stoop down to their level.

I actually feel in many ways that answering hate can be rather therapeutic this way, as you've succesfully turned something negative into soemthing positive!

♡ The Difference Between Hate & Critique!

Actually doesn't matter. You're not really obligated to answer either if you don't want to.

But for the sake of differentiating the two: "Ew, you're disgusting" is hateful slander, but "Incest is wrong, and you're actively condoning it by writing what you write" is a genuine critique.

And it bears repeating, you don't have to address either because you don't owe anyone anything.

People are entiteld to their opnions just as much as you're free to disagree, and ignore if you want!

But something I've found is that explaining it to those who don't understand why we write such things, and furthermore why people want to read it without being interested in such things in real life, is actually quite a rewarding thing to do!

And by that, I mean it might make your critics and haters understand and rethink their comments, but it can also help your existing fans deal with their own similar self-loathing, and lastly, it's even great for your own mental health for when you yourself doubt your own mental standing!

Personally, in regard to the example I used above, when I get hit with the "you're condoning this and that" I just play the argument that those who play violent videogames aren't condoning the killing carried out by their avatar. Naturally, when roleplaying a fictional version of ourselves, we're not actually playing as ourselves.

Some people have a very hard time understanding this for some reason.

But anyway, moving on.

♡ Final Advice!

Ignore and delete any and all the dumb, off-handed comments you feel like. If and when you want, return their rudeness with a cheeky smile and a slap on their ass. Be as cordial as you can be but as sassy as you feel you must—like an aged Queen who drinks her fair share of likewise wine.

But whatever you do, don't ever make things personal!

Though that's also my personal advice. I think, by making personal attacks, you're not being factual anymore, and you'll only feel worse for it. And by personal attacks, I mean calling people ignorant, dumb, awful, etc. You can, of course, say that their chosen words were in ill taste, but going after them themselves won't make you feel better. So, I'd suggest avoiding it.

Anyway, hope this helps!

♡ NIGHTMARE'S HELPDESK

[heavyhitterheaux]

Between the Sheets (NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Blurb

Synopsis: You come up with an idea that is the perfect way to wake up your husband 🤭

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Looking over at your husband's peaceful sleeping form, you simply smiled to yourself as you were admiring him. As of lately, he had been tired, stressed out, and overworking himself as usual no matter how many times you would get on him about taking a break.

Luckily, today was an off day for him and you were excited about getting to spend time with him, even though you had a strong feeling that the majority of the day would be spent with him sleeping. 

Glancing down at your phone you saw that it was almost ten in the morning and that was surprising since Jack hardly ever slept in. An idea suddenly popped into your head and you figured that he would be less mad at you if you woke him up like this. 

You slid off your pink thong along with your matching bra since you knew that this was only going to end one way and that was him being deep inside you. So you figured that you might as well get it over with. Ducking underneath the comforter, you comfortably positioned yourself in front of Jack before sliding off his boxer briefs and slowly started to stroke him. You felt him twitch, but kept going at an even pace before you placed him in your mouth. A few minutes had passed when you heard him start to stir and you were actually surprised that it took him that long. 

You knew he had been caught off guard when you heard a small gasp escape from his mouth and he quickly spoke up letting you know that he was now fully awake.

“Babe…..” Jack quietly whispered as he moved the comforter from over the both of you so that he could have his eyes on you.

“Gotta see my pretty baby and how well she's taking me.” Was all he said as he smirked while looking down at you and holding onto your ponytail. Your bonnet must have fallen off from all the movement and made a note to look for it when you were finished.

As Jack tightened his hold on you, you moved him further into your mouth and felt your spit leaking out the sides and running back down to the base of his dick which you quickly licked back up.

“Fuck!”

He threw his head back in pleasure and when he put his eyes back on you, he pulled you away from him.

“What's wrong?” You asked suddenly confused and why he was looking at you with that expression.

You moved forward so that you were now straddling him and all he did was smirk at you before leaning forward and placing one of your pierced nipples in his mouth and sucking lightly before switching to the other one. He then began to place a trail of kisses up your chest until he finally reached your mouth. 

“Nothing's wrong. I can't just admire my wife?”

“Hmm, of course you can.”

“And I see you're already ready for me. Good girl.” Jack said, referencing that you didn't have any clothes on as he slowly ran his fingers over your folds, seeing how wet you were.

Jack then lightly tapped your cheek and you immediately opened your mouth and soon felt warm liquid running down your throat along with Jack's tongue.

Once the two of you broke apart, Jack smirked at you once again before holding your face in his hand.

“Now finish what you started.”

After getting comfortable again, you slowly took him back into your mouth.

Not a lot of time had passed before you felt his cum hit the back of your throat as you immediately swallowed it and still continued to suck as you hollowed out your cheeks.

“Baby, wait a minute!” Jack told you, but you simply held eye contact with him as you moved him deeper into your mouth, not letting up for a second as you felt more coming out.

Once you finally released him from your mouth with a pop to come up from air, he was  smirking at you as you still continued to stroke him.

“Oh, almost forgot. Good morning, baby.” You smiled as Jack leaned forward to kiss you. 

“Good morning my love. That was a hell of a way to wake up.”

“And we're nowhere near done.”

[morgana-larkin]

I love angst for some reason, but can you write a Melissa x reader breakup fic? Where reader is in their mid 20’s and Melissa is obviously wayyy older than her. Melissa realized that they’re both heading in different paths in life and tries to gently breakup with reader, but calls her all the pet names like “kid/kiddo, young one, little bunny, etc” (this is taken from Taylor Swift’s ‘Illicit Affairs’ where she’s going “don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you’ve made me…”)

Maybe a part two if you’re feeling up to it, with gentle smut as reader and Melissa get back together and make love again? 👀

Oh I’m definitely making a part two to this, I mean I can’t leave things with Melissa on a sad note. So I went with the nicknames hon and kid. I did ended listening to the Taylor Swift song and based some of the things off of the song. And I just gotta say that I procrastinated on doing this for 4 days straight as it hit too close to home. I called off my engagement 3 months ago to someone 12 years older than me because we were heading down different paths in life. Anyway, not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: still taking prompts peeps!

Part 2

Don’t Call Me That

Warnings: Angst and no comfort, no happy ending, may break your heart like it did for me

Words: 2.25k

You and Melissa are cuddling on the couch watching real housewives. Melissa found out you’ve never seen it so of course she had to show you. The two of you have been together for about 8 months now and never been happier.

Well, you have never been happier. Melissa was happy, but she still has so much doubt on whether or not she should have gotten with someone so much younger than her. Especially when you made comments on what you want to do with your life.

“I hope to get married someday.” You said once. “Maybe we can have kids together.” You said another time. “We should go out to a bar or a club together sometime.” You said one time. Melissa just looked at you and smiled each time but didn’t reply. Those thoughts swirl around in Melissa’s head until one day she couldn’t ignore them, you both wanted different things and she couldn’t let this relationship go on even more.

“Hey hon, can we talk?” She says to you when she visits you at your place on Saturday.

“Alright, sure.” You said, none the wiser. You and Melissa go on your couch and you face her with a smile. Melissa wishes you weren’t smiling as it makes it harder knowing that she’ll be that reason for that smile to drop.

“I don’t think this is working out anymore.” She starts and you look at her confused.

“What do you mean?” You ask and you frown.

“I mean this.” She says and gestures between you both. “Our relationship, I think we should end it.”

“Why?” You ask, concerned.

“Because we want different things in life hon. I don’t want to get married again, I wanted kids before but not anymore, and I don’t want to go to clubs if I don’t have too. But you’re young, you should have things you want and you should do it.” She tells you and you look down at your lap. She really wants to comfort you but knows she can’t.

“So that’s it? We’re over, just like that? I have no say in this?” You ask her and she looks guilty.

“I’m afraid so hon.” She says and you snap you head up at her.

“Don’t call me that if you’re gonna break up with me.” You snap and that catches her off guard. She knows you might be upset but didn’t think you’d snap at her, but she doesn’t blame you.

“I’m sorry y/n.” She tells you.

“Please leave.” You say and she nods defeatedly. She gets up and walks to the door and opens it. Before she leaves, she glances at you.

“I really am sorry.” She says and leaves. As soon as she closes the door, you get up and lock it, then you put your back on the door and slide down while crying.

On Monday you walked in the doors of Abbott and went to the break room as usual. Only this time instead of saying hi to Melissa when you pass her, you just walked right by her to the fridge.

“Hi hon.” Melissa says to you.

“Don’t call me that.” You say as you put your lunch in the fridge. Everyone turns their attention to you and Melissa as they knew you were dating. “My name is y/n.” You say to her and go to make a coffee.

“I know what your name is.” She tells you as you pour the coffee into your mug.

“Then I suggest you use it.” You tell her and walk out.

Melissa sighs and leans back into her seat.

“Trouble in paradise?” Barb asks Melissa.

“If trouble you mean broken up then yes.” Melissa says and everyone gasps.

“Omg what happened?” Janine asks.

“None of youse businesses.” She tells them and walks out. Everyone turns to Barb for answers.

“Don’t look at me, the only thing I know is Melissa broke up with y/n if their emotions are anything to go by.” Barb tells them.

Melissa tries to talk to you for the rest of the day when she gets an opportunity but you keep shutting her down.

She keeps trying every day for 2 weeks until she had enough. She got Mr Johnson to watch over her class while she goes to talk to you during your prep period.

She knocks on your door and walks in after you call out a ‘come in’ to whoever was there. When you look up you see the person you least expected, mostly because she has a class right now.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be teaching?” You tell her as she closes your door.

“Mr Johnson is watching them until I get back. I need to talk to you hon.”

“I keep telling you not to call me that! And the last time we talked, you broke up with me so I don’t really want to talk to you.” You told her and she sighs. You get up and go to bring a stack of papers to the back of the classroom.

“I know but I’ve been trying to at least be friends with you like we were before we started dating because I like our friendship.” She tells you as she follows you to the back and you whip around to face her.

“Friends? You think I would want to be friends with you? Melissa, do I need to remind you that you broke up with me and didn’t even bother talking about it with me? You just made the decision on your own.” You grit out.

“It was the best decision.”

“For who exactly? Cause it sure wasn’t the best for me.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“It was for you. I made it for you so you can have the life you want. I can’t give you everything! So I let you go so you could! Believe me when I tell you that I didn’t want to break up with you! You are the best damn thing to happen to me and it broke me to let you go!” She tells you and you gasp.

“That’s the reason?!? You. Are. An. Idiot Schemmenti! Just because I may have thought about certain things doesn’t mean it’s set in stone. I’m 25 and I’m not certain about what I want to do in life.”

“See that right there is what I’m talking about. You have no idea what you want cause your life has just begun, while mine, well I’m 55, I’m going to retire in 10 years hopefully. My life is almost over.” She tells you frantically and at that Barb comes in.

“Girls, can you quiet down. It’s hard enough to teach 5 year olds how to read the alphabet as it is. It’s even harder with your yelling.” She tells you both and you look at Melissa.

“What I knew I wanted in life was you. But I guess I was wrong. You should get back to your class.” You tell her and you leave to go print something. “Sorry Barb.” You tell her as you pass her by.

Barb looks at Melissa who has a couple tears rolling down her cheeks. “Sweetheart, what were you trying to accomplish here?” She asks her and Melissa lets a sob escape.

“I was trying to be friends with her again.” She tells her.

“Melissa, you just broke up with her out of the blue. At least for her it was out of the blue. You have to give it time before she might consider being your friend again.” Barb tells her and Melissa nods.

“I know, I just, I miss her.”

“Listen I have to go back to my classroom and you have to go back to yours but how about you come to my classroom at lunch and we can talk then.” Barb suggests and Melissa wipes her tears away.

“Ok.” She says with a nod and then leaves back to her classroom.

2 months go by and Melissa has stopped any interaction with you. You still know she looks and stares at you but never talks to you.

Melissa can’t help it whenever she sees you, she never talks to you even though she wants to, she just stares at you. Her heart breaks every time she sees you.

10 weeks after she breaks up with you, your both in the break room along with everyone else. You’re talking to the trio and they ask about your weekend plans and you mention you have a date. Melissa whips her head up from looking at her phone and her jaw drops and eyes got watery.

You may not be able to see her face but you saw her whip her head up. You also see Barb looking at her sympathetically which means she must look sad right now.

You tell them your contemplating on whether or not you should go, you think you shouldn’t but Janine and Gregory tell you to go and Jacob tells you no. You go over to Barb for the tie breaker and you show her a picture of the girl, Melissa also sees the picture of her and she realises that you’re going out with someone around her age.

Barb tells you it’s your choice and that’s when Melissa pipes up. “Isn’t she too old for you kid?” She asks you while taking a bite of her pasta.

You glare at her and scoff. “I think that’s for me to decide, cause I do have a say in some things.” You tell her and she looks down guiltily.

On Monday morning you walk in the break room and the trio asks you how your date went.

“It was alright. We’re going out again this Saturday.” You tell them and you hear Melissa scoff. “Something you want to say Melissa?” You ask her and she turns around in her chair.

“It doesn’t seem you’re interested in her since you said it was alright.” She tells you.

“Well it was my first date with her and I haven’t had a first date in a year.” You say and she stands up, grabs her things and walks out. You turn back to the trio and continue the conversation. Barb follows Melissa out to make sure she’s not destroying anything or about too.

The next Monday you’re talking to the trio about your second date and you tell them that you’re not going to see her again as you’re not interested in her. You don’t see it but Melissa smiles. You don’t but Barb sure does and rolls her eyes at her.

It’s been 3 months since the break up now and you stop by quickly at Melissa’s to get a few things she recently found that’s yours. In reality, Melissa found them 3 months ago and hid them when you came to get your things so she would have a few reminders of yours but now she wants an excuse to talk to you.

The box of your things is on the coffee table and Melissa is sitting on the arm of the couch when you walk in. Melissa told you that she’ll leave the door unlocked for you.

“Are those the things?” You tell her and nod your head to the box and she nods at you.

“Ya, it is.” She tells you and you don’t really move, she sees you looking around. You usually went to her place about 3 times a week to hang out with her after school and she would make dinner for you two.

“How are you kid?” She asks you and you look at her.

“I thought I’ve told you to stop with the nicknames and use my actual name.”

“You have, but I like using nicknames for you.” Is all she says.

“Why?”

“Because I always have, I’ve rarely called you by your actual name. It feels wrong to call you by your actual name.”

“Well you might want to work on how to make it sound right.” You tell her and walk over to grab the box and she grabs your wrist and you gasp.

“You never answered me when I asked how you were.” She tells you.

“You really want to know how I am?” You ask and she nods. “I’m broken.” You told her and her eyes look upset. “You broke up with me and now I’m broken and a mess. I chose not to go on a third date because all I thought about on the two dates was you.” You tell her and she lets go of you but you make no attempt to move. You want to challenge her to something to see what she really thinks and you grab the back of her head and you kiss her. She’s stunned for a second but then she automatically kisses you back but then you pull back 3 seconds later and she looks at you shocked. “You can’t tell me that that doesn’t feel right. I may not know much about what I want in life but I know I wanted to spend it with you. I’m aware of the age gap but it never made a difference to me because I love you. I thought you loved me.” You tell her then you grab the box and leave.

As soon as you close the door, Melissa falls down on the couch and starts crying. “I’m so sorry y/n.” She sobs out. “I do still love you.”

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[exponentchunk]

Damsel

Thrawn x fem!reader

No warning just reader being a flirt and it’s hella long.

**This is my first fic I have ever written so PLEASE be gentle with me lmao**

*This was base of a dream I had and the story between my oc and Thrawn but I changed it so all could enjoy!*

The warmth of the academy lounge was a welcome reprieve from the biting winter wind outside. Cadets gathered in groups, the buzz of laughter and conversation filling the air as they relished the start of winter break. At a corner table, Thrawn and Eli sat with (y/n), their conversation a curious mix of formality and casual banter.

(y/n) leaned forward slightly, her smile warm as she addressed the two. “So, what do you both have planned for the break? Any big adventures?”

Eli chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing too exciting. Maybe catch up on some reading or explore the city a bit. What about you?”

“I was thinking about heading out with some friends tonight,” (y/n) replied, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “It’s been a long semester, and we could all use a little fun.”

Thrawn observed her quietly, his expression as composed as ever. “And how do you define ‘fun,’ Cadet?” he asked, his voice calm but curious.

(y/n) tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “You’ll see if you come along,” she teased.

Before either of them could respond, another voice chimed in from across the room.

“(y/n)! (y/n)! Come on, we need to get ready for tonight!” a girl calls out, rushing toward (y/n).

Thrawn observes the interaction curiously, his sharp gaze following the girl’s approach.

Eli glances between them, intrigued. “What’s happening tonight?”

(y/n) smiles. “It’s winter break, so a bunch of our classmates are going out dancing.”

Thrawn’s brows furrow slightly, his expression remaining composed but betraying his disinterest in the concept of “dancing.” Eli, on the other hand, perks up.

“Dancing, huh? Got a specific place in mind?” he asks, his enthusiasm apparent.

“Yeah, 79’s! You guys should come. It’s a great way to meet people!” (y/n) replies cheerfully.

Thrawn’s expression remains stoic, though inwardly, he cringes at the idea of attending such an event. Eli, however, grins.

“79’s? Sounds like fun. We might have to check it out.”

(y/n)’s friend tugs on her arm. “(y/n), hurry up!”

(y/n) glances back at Thrawn and Eli. “I gotta go, but I hope to see you both there!” She flashes a warm smile, her gaze lingering on Thrawn for a moment before she rushes off.

Thrawn nods politely, his face revealing nothing. Eli gives her a genuine smile.

“We’ll think about it,” Eli promises.

Thrawn watches her leave, a small, reluctant spark of curiosity stirring within him at the idea of seeing her outside their usual environment.

Eli notices the flicker of interest in Thrawn’s otherwise impassive demeanor. “You don’t look too excited about dancing,” Eli teases.

Thrawn exhales lightly. “I find little appeal in such frivolous social engagements.”

Eli chuckles. “You might be surprised. It could be… enlightening to observe our classmates in a more relaxed setting.”

Thrawn raises a brow, sensing there’s more to Eli’s suggestion than meets the eye. “How so?”

Eli shrugs, a sly smile forming. “Let’s just say you might gain some interesting insights—especially about Cadet (y/n).”

Thrawn’s gaze sharpens momentarily, though his expression remains calm. “Indeed. Observing her in a different context could prove… informative.”

Eli grins, satisfied. “That’s the spirit. We’re going.”

A Few Hours Later

(y/n), dressed in a tasteful purple dress that compliments her curves without being ostentatious, dances with her friends at the bar. Her (h/c) hair flows freely as she moves with confident ease.

Thrawn and Eli enter the bustling club, immediately drawing curious glances. Thrawn scans the room with precision, noting the faces and chaotic energy of the scene.

Eli leans in. “See anything interesting?”

Thrawn’s gaze lands on (y/n), her vibrant dress and radiant energy catching his attention. “Yes,” he says simply, his tone calm yet deliberate.

Eli follows his line of sight and smirks. “Looks like she’s having a good time.”

Thrawn doesn’t respond, his eyes lingering on her graceful movements. Despite the noise and chaos, she stands out, exuding a confidence and charm that captivates him.

Noticing her wave in their direction, Thrawn registers a flicker of surprise but offers a polite nod in return.

Eli nudges him playfully. “She saw us.”

“Indeed,” Thrawn replies, his tone measured as he continues to observe her.

Eli, sensing his friend’s intrigue, grins. “You’re staring.”

“I am observing,” Thrawn counters firmly.

Eli chuckles, leaving to grab a drink.

As Thrawn scans the crowd again, he realizes (y/n) is no longer visible. A faint hint of irritation tugs at him, though he maintains his composure.

“Not a fan of large crowds, are you?” (y/n)’s voice startles him from behind.

Thrawn stiffens briefly before turning to see her, an amused glint in her eyes. “Cadet,” he greets, quickly regaining his composure. “What makes you assume that?”

“You seem like the type who’d prefer a quiet library to a nightclub,” (y/n) teases.

Thrawn considers her words, finding them surprisingly accurate. “A fair assessment. The noise and proximity of so many people make it difficult to interpret their behaviors.”

(y/n) tilts her head, intrigued. “Do you struggle with social cues?”

Thrawn’s brow lifts slightly. “You are observant, Cadet. Yes, understanding subtle social dynamics does not come naturally to me.”

“Me neither, sometimes,” (y/n) admits, surprising him. “I overthink them because of my anxiety.”

Thrawn studies her, intrigued by her vulnerability. “So, it is the overanalysis of cues rather than the cues themselves that poses a challenge?”

“Exactly. It depends on the situation. Big crowds or important events make it worse.”

Thrawn nods thoughtfully. “Managing emotional responses in such settings requires discipline. Have you found effective methods?”

“Breathing exercises and meditation have helped a lot,” she replies.

Thrawn’s eyes glint with respect. “An admirable approach. Meditation cultivates clarity and calm—a valuable skill.”

(y/n) smiles. “What’s your ideal night out, then?”

Thrawn pauses. “A tranquil environment conducive to intellectual pursuits or strategic planning. Certainly not one involving flailing limbs and chaotic noise.”

(y/n) laughs softly. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right style of dance yet.”

Thrawn smirks faintly. “Perhaps. But I doubt I would find it efficient.”

“Let’s test that theory,” (y/n) says, finishing her drink and grabbing her coat.

Thrawn hesitates. “Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you. Trust me,” she replies, her confidence infectious.

Thrawn considers her offer before rising to follow. “Lead the way, Cadet.”

(y/n) leads them out of the bar and into the city, guiding Thrawn through the vibrant nightlife of Coruscant. The bustling streets, alive with activity, stand in stark contrast to the tranquility he prefers, but his curiosity keeps him engaged.

"May I inquire as to where we're headed?" he asks, his deep voice steady.

“No, that’s spoilers,” (y/n) replies with a smirk.

Thrawn raises an eyebrow at her teasing response, intrigued by her secrecy. "Very well," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I shall await the mystery."

(y/n) sighs, looking up at him. “You said flailing limbs and rhythmic shuffling was ‘inefficient.’ I’m going to show you that you’re wrong!”

Thrawn’s smirk grows slightly. "Such confidence, Cadet. I am curious to see how you plan on proving me wrong."

They arrive at the Imperial Ballet, its grand facade illuminated against the night. (y/n) stops to admire the beautiful building. Thrawn pauses beside her, his eyes scanning the intricate architecture.

"Impressive," he remarks. "A place of culture, it seems."

(y/n) glances up at him. “Come on!” she says, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward a nearby alleyway.

Caught off guard, Thrawn allows himself to be led, curiosity flickering in his expression. "Where exactly are we headed?" he asks.

(y/n) reaches the alley, spotting a fire escape ladder that stops just above her head. With a frustrated sigh, she removes her heels and turns to Thrawn. “Give me a boost!”

Thrawn observes her for a moment before stepping forward. "A rather... unconventional path," he notes with a faint trace of amusement. Nevertheless, he cups his hands, ready to lift her. "Up you go, Cadet."

“Don’t look up my dress,” (y/n) jokes, slipping off her heels.

Thrawn rolls his eyes but refrains from looking. "Do you ever stop with the relentless flirting?" he says slightly annoyed.

“Not when it comes to you, Lieutenant,” (y/n) replies with a mischievous smile as she climbs up.

Thrawn shakes his head, faint amusement tugging at his lips. "You are quite bold, I will give you that."

(y/n) disappears through a window, leaving him momentarily alone. He waits patiently until the door below swings open, revealing her triumphant grin.

"Ah, there you are," Thrawn says, his tone even. "What is the purpose of this... secret entrance?"

“I don’t want to pay for a ticket just to prove you wrong. Besides, where we’re going has the best seat in the house,” (y/n) replies with a sly smile.

Thrawn arches an eyebrow, impressed by her audacity. "Ah, so we are trespassing," he remarks, shaking his head. "I should have known."

“It’s not trespassing; it’s appreciating art for free!” (y/n) retorts as she begins climbing another ladder.

Thrawn follows her, his movements precise and quiet. "An interesting perspective on the situation," he says dryly. "I hope your 'appreciation' does not involve breaking more rules."

“Nope, this is it,” (y/n) responds as she perches on a walkway overlooking the stage below.

Thrawn settles beside her, his gaze falling on the ballet performance. "I must confess," he murmurs, "this is not exactly the kind of 'dancing' I had in mind when I made my earlier comment."

Below, a duet unfolds, the male dancer lifting his partner with effortless grace. (y/n) watches, a soft smile on her face. “Not all dances are loud and obnoxious. I thought this would be more your style.”

Thrawn studies the intricate choreography, his keen eyes noting the precision in every movement. "Hm, I stand corrected," he admits reluctantly. "This is... graceful and precise. However, I still maintain that it is inefficient for combat."

“That’s where you’re also wrong. Have you not seen me fight?” (y/n) counters, her tone playful yet confident.

Thrawn leans back slightly, considering her words. "Indeed, I have witnessed your fighting prowess. You move with speed and precision—your combat skills are formidable." He pauses, his gaze shifting back to the dancers. "But tell me, how does something like this, ballet, benefit someone in combat?"

(y/n) gestures toward the female dancer below. “Watch her,” she says with a knowing smile.

Thrawn focuses on the dancer, analyzing her movements. Her footwork is delicate, her balance impeccable, and her control over every motion speaks to immense discipline.

“You study art to learn your opponent’s moves; this is another form of art. So study it,” (y/n) explains.

Thrawn nods, impressed by her insight. "You have a point," he concedes. "Ballet, like art, is a form of expression through movement. Analyzing it can provide insight into the body control and precision required for combat."

He watches intently, his analytical mind dissecting every detail. "The female dancer's footwork... it’s delicate, precise. She utilizes her core strength to maintain balance and control."

“Do you see it now?” (y/n) asks, her smile widening.

Thrawn considers her question, a hint of admiration glimmering in his eyes. "I see," he replies thoughtfully. "Ballet demands incredible discipline, precision, and control. It is not merely a performance but a demonstration of technical prowess. In that sense, perhaps I was wrong in assuming it to be inefficient for combat."

(y/n) laughs, nudging him playfully with her elbow. “Does saying you’re wrong happen a lot to you?”

Thrawn smirks, meeting her gaze with a glint of humor. "Admittedly, it does not happen often. But I am capable of admitting when I am incorrect."

He glances at her, a touch of amusement in his gaze. "Are you planning on reminding me of this often?"

“Maybe we shall see,” (y/n) says, bumping his elbow lightly.

"You enjoy challenging my confidence, don't you?" Thrawn remarks, his smirk lingering.

“And you enjoy the challenge,” (y/n) replies with a knowing look.

Thrawn holds her gaze, a subtle spark of understanding passing between them. "I admit, your unique perspective and audacity do keep things... interesting," he says, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Not exactly a compliment, but I’ll take it,” (y/n) says with a smile, turning her attention back to the performance.

Thrawn’s expression softens as he follows her gaze. "You are a unique individual, Cadet," he says with quiet respect. They sit in companionable silence, watching the ballet in the soft glow of the stage lights.As the peaceful silence stretches between them, Thrawn’s analytical mind begins to stir. His thoughts drift to (y/n)’s familiarity with this hidden spot. Given her connection to Colonel Yularen, her knowledge of this clandestine entrance piques his curiosity. He casts a discreet glance her way, noting her composed demeanor. The question lingers in his mind: how did she and her friend stumble upon such a secluded location?

Breaking the quiet, he tilts his head slightly and speaks, his tone casual yet probing. "Cadet," he begins, "I am curious... How exactly did you come to discover this... unique entrance to the theatre?"

(y/n) keeps her gaze fixed on the ballet below, her tone light as she answers, "My friend and I found it one winter."

Thrawn’s sharp gaze narrows slightly, intrigued by the simplicity of her reply. "In the middle of winter, you say?" he echoes, the detail catching his attention. "And you were just... wandering around the theatre, stumbled upon the fire escape, and decided to explore?"

“Hmm? Oh, uh, yeah,” (y/n) replies distractedly, only half paying attention to him.

Thrawn’s eyebrow arches ever so slightly, the faintest trace of skepticism slipping into his tone. "Just a casual wandering during a winter night, and stumbled upon this hidden entrance?" he repeats, leaning forward slightly as he studies her face. "Seems like quite a convenient discovery for two young women wandering around in the cold..."

(y/n) heard Thrawn's skepticism and wondered if he was starting to catch on to her past. She looked up at him, about to say something, when a man’s voice called out, “Hey! Who’s up here?”

Thrawn’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden interruption, his mind already assessing their situation.

“It seems we have been discovered,” he said tersely, scanning their surroundings for an escape route.

“Shit, follow me!” (y/n) hissed, springing to her feet and running.

Thrawn followed without hesitation, his calm demeanor slipping just a fraction.

“Where exactly are we going?” he asked, his tone edged with urgency. “Another convenient escape route?”

“I wouldn’t say convenient,” (y/n) shot back, reaching a window and glancing down.

Thrawn stepped up beside her, peering down at the street below.

“I’m going to assume you have a plan beyond jumping out of the window?” he remarked dryly, his brow arching.

“Not really. You’re going to jump out of the window,” (y/n) said bluntly.

Thrawn blinked, momentarily taken aback by her audacity.

“Excuse me, what?” he asked, disbelief creeping into his voice. “You want me to jump out of a window?”

(y/n) rushed to grab a rope nearby, tying it to a pole.

“Here—now it’s not really jumping!” she said, tossing the rope to him. “Hurry!”

Thrawn eyed the rope, his mind quickly calculating.

“You expect me to rappel down a theater using this?” he asked, his tone tinged with resignation and reluctant admiration for her resourcefulness.

“STOP ASKING QUESTIONS AND GO!” (y/n) snapped, her voice low but urgent as the man’s footsteps grew closer.

With a grimace, Thrawn grabbed the rope.

“Understood,” he said curtly. In one fluid motion, he swung out of the window, beginning his descent with practiced precision.

(y/n) leaned out to watch him, the man’s footsteps growing louder. She grabbed her heels and tossed them out the window after Thrawn. One of them narrowly missed his head.

Thrawn paused mid-descent, glancing up sharply.

“Do try to have better aim when throwing things!” he called up, his voice edged with mild irritation.

“Sorry!” (y/n) whisper-yelled, gripping the rope and starting her own descent. Her hands trembled slightly as she struggled to steady herself.

“Careful!” Thrawn called up, his tone carrying a rare note of concern. “Take it slow!”

Thrawn reached the ground with ease, immediately scanning the area to ensure it was clear. His gaze then snapped upward, watching (y/n)’s progress with a mix of anxiety and admiration.

She was halfway down when her foot slipped. With a gasp, she lost her grip and plummeted toward the ground.

“Kriff!” Thrawn cursed, his instincts taking over. He positioned himself directly below her, bracing for impact.

(y/n) landed squarely on top of him, the force sending them both tumbling backward. Thrawn hit the ground flat on his back, his arms instinctively cradling her to absorb the worst of the fall.

For a moment, they lay there, winded and disoriented. Thrawn stared up at the sky, his chest heaving from the adrenaline, while (y/n) rested her head on his chest.

She looked up at him sheepishly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Thrawn’s gaze shifted to hers, their faces mere inches apart. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart against him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice breathless but laden with concern.

(y/n)’s cheeks flushed as she nodded, then began to laugh softly.

Thrawn blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her reaction. The corners of his lips quirked upward despite himself.

“You find our predicament funny, do you?” he asked, his tone tinged with dry amusement.

“Kinda,” (y/n) admitted, laughing harder as she started to get up.

Thrawn winced as she shifted off of him but maintained his composure.

“I’m glad to provide some amusement,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

As they helped each other to their feet, Thrawn cast a wary glance around.

“We should vacate the premises before we are discovered,” he said quietly.

“Agreed,” (y/n) said, grabbing one of her heels and scanning the ground for the other.

“Hey, you two!” the man from earlier shouted from the far end of the alley.

Thrawn immediately stepped in front of (y/n), his body shielding her from view. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation.

“That sounds like our cue to depart,” he murmured, his voice calm but urgent.

As they began to run, (y/n) glanced back.

“My heel!” she cried, pointing to the one still lying on the ground near Thrawn.

Thrawn hesitated briefly, exasperation flickering across his features.

“Your heel?” he repeated, muttering under his breath as he grabbed it.

They ran for several blocks, finally stopping when they were a safe distance away. (y/n) doubled over, laughing as she tried to catch her breath.

“You find this entire ordeal entertaining, don’t you?” Thrawn asked, his composure returning as he observed her with mild bewilderment.

“Yes, yes I do,” (y/n) said between breaths. “How can you not? We just jumped out of a window after sneaking into a ballet. That’s so random!”

Thrawn, despite his usual stoicism, can't suppress a small smirk.

"I must admit, it has been rather... unconventional night, both in entrance and exit." His tone holds a hint of dry amusement, his reserved demeanor slipping ever so slightly.

(y/n) slipped on her remaining heel and looked at Thrawn, who still held the other one in his hand.

Thrawn raised an eyebrow as he observed her unbalanced attempt at footwear.

“Are you planning to hobble the rest of the way?” he asked, his tone betraying a faint hint of humor.

“Hopefully, the gentleman holding the other heel will be gracious and help the damsel in distress,” (y/n) replied, her voice laced with playful sass.

Thrawn’s lip twitched as he fought a smile.

“The damsel in distress?” he repeated incredulously. “You are the furthest thing from a damsel in distress I have ever met.”

He held up the heel, regarding it with amusement.

“But I shall assist you, my lady.”

With that, he knelt, holding the heel steady for her. His movements were deliberate and surprisingly gentle as he helped her slide her foot into it.

(y/n) felt the softness of his touch, her heart skipping slightly.

Thrawn’s gaze flickered to hers briefly as he finished.

“There,” he murmured, his voice warm. “The damsel is no longer in distress.”

(y/n) blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Uh, thank you for catching me back there,” she said, trying to move past the moment.

Thrawn stood, noticing the faint color in her cheeks. His gaze softened as he responded,

“You’re welcome. Though I must admit, your tendency to get into... predicaments is becoming a concerning pattern.”

“Hey, I may get myself into predicaments, but I always get myself out of them,” (y/n) retorted, folding her arms and pouting slightly.

Thrawn raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Indeed, you do have a remarkable talent for finding trouble—yet also for escaping it unscathed.” He paused, his gaze lingering on her pout.

“Though, I dare say, the latter wouldn’t be necessary if you avoided the former.”

“If I didn’t have the first skill, I wouldn’t get to have you help me with the second one,” (y/n) said, stepping closer with a smirk.

Thrawn felt an uncharacteristic warmth spread through his chest, but he maintained his steady demeanor.

“Are you suggesting that your penchant for trouble exists solely to give me the opportunity to rescue you?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“Oh no,” (y/n) replied with a sly grin. “But it’s definitely a side benefit.”

Thrawn’s composure wavered slightly as he regarded her.

“I see. So you don’t just get into trouble for the pleasure of having someone like me save you?” he asked, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest.

“I hope it doesn’t break your heart to know that I don’t,” (y/n) teased, her smile softening. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

Thrawn held her gaze, his usual stoicism slipping as his tone softened.

“I have no doubt you’re capable, Cadet. You are quite... formidable.”

A quiet moment passed between them, the air thick with unspoken tension. Finally, Thrawn broke the silence, his voice warmer than before.

“Though it may benefit us both if you avoided getting into trouble in the first place.”

(y/n) tilted her head with a flirtatious smile.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll try. But I won’t make any promises.”

Thrawn’s composure cracked slightly as he returned her gaze.

“I’ll take your attempts to stay out of trouble with a grain of salt,” he said, his voice tinged with dry humor.

Without thinking, he raised a hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was intimate, unconscious, and entirely out of character for him.

(y/n)’s (e/c) eyes searched his face, catching the cracks in his stoic exterior as a softer expression surfaced.

Thrawn gazed down at her, his composure faltering under her penetrating stare.

“You have a way of... breaking down my composure, Cadet,” he murmured, his voice unusually quiet.

(y/n) searches Thrawn's eyes, her voice soft with curiosity. “Do I?”

Thrawn's gaze deepens, his usually impenetrable demeanor beginning to waver. A warmth spreads through his chest—an unfamiliar, unnamable sensation.

"Yes, you do..." he whispers, his voice barely audible.

His hand hovers near her face, drawn by an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch her. For a moment, he is lost in her presence. Then reality reasserts itself, and he realizes how close they’ve become.

Thrawn clears his throat, taking a subtle step back. “Perhaps... we should continue the walk back, Cadet. It’s getting late.” His voice carries a slight strain, betraying the effort it takes to regain his composure.

(y/n)’s heart sinks, but she hides her disappointment with a light tone. “Yes! You’re right. It’s getting late—and cold.”

Thrawn nods, a quiet moment passing as he centers himself. “Indeed. Walking back is wise,” he agrees, his voice settling into its usual steadiness. Yet, as they resume their walk, he finds his thoughts drifting back to her. Despite himself, he steals glances at her, the memory of their shared moment lingering.

As they approach the academy steps, (y/n) breaks the silence. “I hope you had fun. I’m glad I convinced you and Eli to come to the club tonight. Though I bet this wasn’t the evening you had planned.”

Thrawn manages a faint smile, his thoughts still tangled in unfamiliar emotions. “You certainly have a knack for... unexpected surprises,” he replies with a trace of amusement.

He turns to her, his expression softening as warmth flickers in his eyes. “But... I did have a good time tonight. Thank you, Cadet.”

(y/n)’s smile mirrors his warmth. “I’m glad you did, Lieutenant.”

Thrawn hesitates, the moment stretching between them. Finally, he extends his hand, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “Let me escort you to your quarters. It is late, and you should get some rest.”

(y/n) smiles, slipping her arm through his. “Thank you,” she says softly as he begins to lead her down the corridor.

Their pace is slow, the silence between them charged with unspoken words. Thrawn is acutely aware of the light pressure of her arm against his, a subtle but electrifying sensation.

When they arrive at the dormitory hall, he reluctantly releases her arm. “Here we are, Cadet,” he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual.

“Thank you for accompanying me on my late-night adventure, Lieutenant,” (y/n) replies, her tone equally soft.

Thrawn feels an unwelcome pang of reluctance as the moment draws to a close. Still, he maintains his composure. “You’re welcome, Cadet.” His voice is gentler than he intends, and his gaze lingers on her face longer than proprietary would permit.

Taking a step back, he adds, “I advise you to get some rest. Nightly escapades are not the most... productive of activities.”

(y/n)’s lips curve into a mischievous smile. “Depends on the activities.”

Thrawn’s breath catches at her teasing remark. He averts his gaze briefly, struggling to keep his usual stoic demeanor. “I suppose it does,” he concedes, his tone slightly strained.

Thrawn takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure from fully breaking.

“But even so, it is late, and you should rest... Cadet.”

(y/n) chuckles softly, her amusement lighting up her face. “Yes, sir. Goodnight.”

Her smile lingers in his mind as she speaks, her voice gentle and warm. For a moment, Thrawn is struck by a sensation so unfamiliar it almost unnerves him.

“Goodnight, Cadet,” he murmurs, his voice a low whisper. He resists the urge to reach out and touch her again, his hands clenching slightly at his sides.

He watches her disappear into her quarters, standing still until he hears the soft click of the door locking, ensuring her safety. Only then does he turn away, his steps heavy with thought.

As he walks back to his own quarters, the evening replays in his mind—the ballet, their unexpected escape, the quiet, intimate moments shared. Each memory stirs something new within him, a mix of warmth and weightlessness he has yet to fully understand.