#gotta get that based reader engagement

[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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Taglist:  @sturniolosreads @mayhem-72 @dracoflaco @lyzsaphrodite @ifilwtmfc @xoxo4chrisss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @inlovewithmattstur @sturniolobendystrawsposts @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @blackhorses-posts

[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.

[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.”

[themareverine]

Toy Soldiers | part one | worst!wolverine x namelessfem!OC

synopsis: He was just a one of those fast food kid’s meal toys from 1993—key word, was. now he’s Hugh Jackman incarnate, standing in the master bedroom of her midwestern apartment, lost in time and infinity. she’s gotta get him back to his world, where he’s the worst Wolverine, where he belongs—or, maybe not?

warnings: Indian in the Cupboard themes (iykyk), fluff, AU, not entirely sure what else at this point, nameless!femOC with blue eyes could be interpreted as reader, mentions of a best friend named Rose, etc, literally based on this silly little toy I rescued and now have crafted extensive lore for.

a/n: i didn't ask for this to become a multi-chapter thing. i really didn't, ok? this got away from me, but i really love these two so much already. this was fun to write, and she's a fun character to develop. worst!wolverine is just occupying too much brain space.

MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

Dreaming in color is a pro, when you weigh it against the cons—usually.

She’d been dreaming in movie-like quality since she was a kid, could pinpoint almost to the exact timespace when she first realized her dreams were akin to Hollywood flicks roving about her brain like Spielberg classics.

She’d been six, maybe seven. A hopeless crush on Wednesday night’s Steve Irwin had somehow twisted the innocent power of her brain—the only, almost divine dreamstate visit to Australia she’d ever taken. Still she can taste the hot air, thick with sweat and arid desert, from the back of an obscure Land Rover, jostled and bouncing along forgotten roads and who-knows trails. Eyeballing open sky and endless outback sands, the Crocodile Hunter and his darling wife, Terri, vivid imaginations to a childhood fantasy yet, mostly, unlived. 

And ever since this God-granted, she’d always assumed it was a gift and thus titled it so, she’d been dreaming vividly most of the last twenty four years. Forgetting her dreams was the exception, black and white—unheard of. Tasting, speaking, reading, touch was wrapped up in REM and weighted blankets, vicarious life she’d never, really, lived in her waking moments—everything from the supernatural to gut-wrenching. Martial bliss and familial tragedy. Combat she could only ever hope wasn’t accurate. Fame and fortune. R rated filmstrips that left her stomach light and fluttery every morning, promptly, at 4:45—alarm shrieking in her ear, viscerally ripping her back to the land of the living with frothing teeth, the Greatest Showman custom alarm all but a slap in the face.  

It’s, as usual, dark when the numbers on her phone roll over to 4:45—sucked out of a dream like the vacuum of space itself lays claim to her soul, her eyes flutter open heavily to stare at the alarm. Hugh Jackman would never be so unwelcome as he is now, blaring from little iPhone speakers—she manages to lift a noodle-esque arm to slap at the noise hanging out in the darkness around the vicinity of her nightstand. 

Fingers locate the smooth screen, swipe away the prompt for snooze. Roll over. Hand over her eyes—it’s Saturday The day after Friday, her first day alone all week. World beyond is closed away behind walls and empty schedules, priorities otherwise left-fielded for such days as this.  

Warmth simmers beneath heavy weighted covers, trapped against her body. Clawing up through her mattress, threatening to pull her back into oblivion. Pharaoh’s hadn’t been so mummified, entombed as she is now, but that’s the beauty of a queen mattress left unshared—solidarity. Armies only wish they held such control over real estate as she did these sheets, this bed frame—very little could remove her from the ecstasy that is this Eden, the one place that did not require compliance, performance, untenable perfection.

Here she could rot for hours, engage in adventure that the earth would never understand—that man would jeer. 

Heaving a sigh melts her deeper into her astronaut-designed mattress, stomach suddenly flatter than it’s ever been as gently fingers tease at the strip of skin exposed. Back arching, stirring nearly-paralyzed muscle. Toes skip over warm satin sheets as she navigates to her side, arm tucking beneath her pillow. Drawing blankets to her chin, another deep breath closes her eyes, shuts off her brain—all but ready to return to dreamstate, the screen on her phone illuminates again—diiiiing.

Light explodes, lighting up the area of her nightstand just enough to give purpose to her surroundings. 

Nose scrunching in an effort to unhear and forget the notification, her eyes slowly pull open as she considers the phone. It’s her best friend, she knows it is—Rose is up early. All the time. Taking care of her little family at the base of the Teton mountains, as if this is Little House on the Prairie and such things were the norm.

Her inability to ignore anything from Rose props her up on an elbow, has her reaching for her phone—thumbs the passcodes. Opens the text, eyes scanning the message from last night. 

It’s a photo message. She’d sent it last night, proudly showing off the latest addition to her childhood nostalgia collection—a thrift store find, the little McDonald’s toy is hardly noteworthy. Scuffed and worn, it had seen adventures, surely, in its pre-her-possession life. Surprise had knocked her between the eyes like a stone when she’d managed to spy 1993 printed on the little action hero’s foot, in barely-there legalese. 

At thirty-one years old, one may have expected the little five-cent made-in-Taiwan to end up in the landfill, rotting alongside near-radioactive diapers or kill-the-turtles plastic straws.

Nope, not this one—Marvel’s very own little Wolverine. Dolled up in a cute little sci-fi bronze suit, ready for a fight. Retractable claws, the hardly-scuffed cowl, a proud encircled X in all its glory—wrapped up in a little sandwich baggie marked down at the thrift. She’d almost felt sorry for him in that cute aggressive way. 

And almost giddy at the fluke cocktail of age and condition, she’d pocketed the little guy. A pleased smile, her very own little Wolvie nestled in the leathers of her jacket, then the bottom of her purse. He’d adventured to work with her accidentally on Friday, plastic eyes watching her pass the time at the office from his little perch beside her keyboard and Starbucks. Almost had forgotten him, poor thing—he’d landed on her nightstand among the other needs-put-away items for the weekend, proudly standing in his posed little battle stance.

All he needed was matching Sabretooth, maybe Magneto, and he’d be good to go. 

Looky who came home with *me*, shot over to Rose with a little thrill, a Snapchat-like photo of him perched alongside her night cream and phone charger. More of a proud sentinel guarding her bedside table than anything, she’d regarded him playfully, like a child—had told him to close his eyes when she’d undressed. Had asked him about a movie to watch in bed as she managed hip-opening exercises, relaxing breathing techniques. All but kissed him goodnight, promising to get him settled among her other collectable childhood wonders in the morning.

After coffee and cardio, wouldn’t Hugh be proud. 

Rose’s LOL text all but smiles back at her, and she’s a little cross-eyed from the brightness of her phone. It improves when her eyes skate away from the phone, to the little Wolverine—wait.

Brow furrowing, his absence from the nightstand sparks more panic than she’d be willing to admit in therapy—she bends over the side of her bed, fingertips skating the floor in search of her little plastic wonder. Nothing but plush carpet, abandoned laundry she’d failed to relocate to her drawers—her phone slips from her hand as she hauls herself over the bedside, to peer beneath.

It’s dark, duh, and she fumbles upside-down with the flashlight on her phone. Sun levels of intense light, she makes arching passes beneath her bed, but no dice. Nada. Zilch–zippo on the Wolverine toy. 

“Well this is just a little ridiculous,” her mumble rolls off a dry tongue, from messy hair as she works herself back up from hanging over the bedside. 

Forcing off her weighted blankets has never felt more urgent, importance spiking her blood with ill-placed adrenaline she doesn’t understand—why she cares so much about a little three-decade-old McDonald’s toy she’ll never understand, but the thought of him lost in the abyss of her house is more unsettling, again, than she’d admit in therapy.

Legs swinging over the bed, she plucks her glasses from the tray on her nightstand, grabbing for the light robe dragging the floor from one of the nightstand’s knobs. 

Wrestling a steer would’ve been easier than un-inside-outing the garment, still hazy and half-asleep and wholly uncaffeinated, but she manages. Another scout under her bed reveals that, no, little Wolvie isn’t among the dust bunnies and lint of her carpeted under-bed floor.

Brow furrowing, her glasses slip down her nose as she hauls herself back to her feet, sleep-stiff muscles protesting as she massages the back of her neck. 

Hands on her hips, she reaches for her phone. “Had I known you had teleportation powers, little Lo, I’d have sold you off to NASA—come on,” Triggering the flashlight on her phone again, she dives to check between the headboard and mattress, to see if her Logan lookalike decided to magically dive headfirst into the almost-abyss—

“—you make a habit of talkin’ to open air, girlie?” 

Two things happen immediately in her body. 

First. Alarm jumps up in her chest like a devil, deep claws sinking into the meat of her chest only to rip away any sense of safety taking up residence behind her ribs, in her bones. Heart forgetting to throb, blood all but stands still in her veins, asystole in her arteries—she can feel the lining of her stomach twist into a viper-like coil so cold, she fears frostbite has set into her organs.

Fear knocks hard on the door of her sternum, ripping the wind from her lungs. Terror opens up her vocal cords and bludgeons a song from her throat, but it’s so dry in her apartment that the fleshy membranes of her mouth have all but become cragged Sahara sands. Tongue swelling to the size of her fist, she fears she’ll choke on it. Forces it against the back of her bottom teeth, jaw clenching with enough force to break open the world. 

Legs somehow managing to propel her up onto her mattress, across the bed, to the farthest corner of the space. Cold sweat raises to a dance across her skin, satin sleeping pants clinging to the flesh of her thighs as sapphire eyes attack the figure cutting through the threshold of her door—hands low and open, in placating surrender.

Brow furrowed with canyon deep lines, dark eyes flick over her frame as she takes a step back for each of the ones he cautiously makes into the room. Invading her privacy, an unwelcome intruder. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” early morning gravels his words, which hang low in baritones not at all unfamiliar, “‘m not gonna hurt you. You breathin’ ok?” Genuine concern passes through his eyes, deep and alive, but—not in a bright way. The corner of his lip tips up, “Don’t mean to scare ya, pretty.” 

Pretty? Sweetheart? Who the hell is this—?

Any familiarity his face holds is lost to the bite of adrenaline, slavering teeth trenching into the back of her brain. Seeming to lap at the spinal fluid all but bubbling down the length of her back. Chest heaving with effort, she fears her ribs might break. Cardiac muscle behind her chest bones all but explodes with every heavy heartbeat, reminding her to stay alive. That she, still, is living. 

Stomach sour, twisting like corded steel, she lunges for the foot of her bed—snatched the first thing she can retrieve. Face all but a blazing inferno of heat, nails all but pike into the soft plush of a stuffed animal. Her favorite. Or, rather, was—now little more than a weapon, it stands between her and the invasion like a fortress. 

“What the hell are you doing here,”she challenges, taking a half step back. Memories of kickboxing classes, somewhere in her youth, escape through the fingers of memories in the back of her head. More boxing posture than anything, she lifts her arms to chin level. Fingers tear into the stuffie like it’s a lifeline, like it’s protection. And for now, it is. 

Not giving him the chance to answer, his mouth hangs open in muted response, “This is my apartment—you can either leave or I’ll–I’ll forcibly remove you.” It would take a 911 call—it would mean grabbing her phone from the nightstand, punching the emergency button, and staying away from him during response time. All unlikely, given proximity. The size of the apartment. How he blocks the only damn exit with his huge-ass frame. 

Jaw snapping closed, a thick brow pops up. He chuckles. He think this is funny, “Whoa, take it easy, bub—” 

“—shut up! Stop talking!” Pointing a strong finger at him, she shuffles back on light feet. Bobbing as best she can, trying to appear light. Prepared. But everything in every manual in the world wouldn’t have prepared her for home invasion—all those home defense classes. The hours shooting clays and targets with her father. Worthless. 

I am so going to die. 

Another step into her sanctuary, holy of holies. “Quit moving, damnit!” 

The stranger stops mid-stride, brows arched in surprise at her tone of voice. Squinched nose, and tightly shut eyes add to what must be a comical look on her face. Coupled with crimson cheeks and the shake setting into her hands, she surely looks—well. A sight, if little else.

Realizing nothing short of an eternity has lapsed in the cool peace and blissfully ignorant darkness of closed eyes, hers pop open. She watches has near-pawlike hands, mapped with raised veins and pronounced callous, drop to his sides for all of a minute. Her heart cuts against her ribs like an ax laid to roots, willing to break something loose—he chuckles. Laughs. Some faraway light catches the darkness of his eyes, brightens his face in a way that only ever seemed so Hollywood, but is now real. 

And he laughs with his entire body for all of a few seconds, wrinkles at either side of his eyes deepening into canyons that seem to fill with his amusement, at her expense.Mind short circuiting, her toes curl into the carpet, calluses on her heels catching frayed fibers as she does her best, again, to stay light on her feet. Nothing about her is light, certainly, and she attempts to calculate distance, how many seconds it would take her launch her body forward, toward the door. Past him, into the corridor, out the front door.

 HIs hand extends, palm up. Waving her forward, as if she were some thing to beckon—

—until her stuffie chucks directly at his face, a blur of hot-pink fur and fluff. 

The moment she arched her arm and sent Mr. Hearts on his first-ever attempt of flight, her feet springboard off the carpet, launching her forward at a speed she never thought possible. Adrenaline jumpstarts every one of her cells, lacing through her veins like rocket fuel—and the world spins by in a blur of color, her chest racked with pain as her heart racehorses behind bones that are no less than temperatures akin to magma. 

Tunnel vision blocks out the world, save the nearly sparkling promise of the room’s exit. Tears bubble up on her lash line, hot and intruders on any clarity of brainspace she’s trying to will forward. Hot, breathy fear closes her throat, nothing but blood rivers through her ears—nothing except the ache of her throbbing heart, the painful push and pull of her lungs expanding and retracting. 

They say hearing is the last thing to go when your soul begins to fade into death, but it’s a lie—she can’t hear a damn thing. And she’s more than alive.

Missing completely the soft snikt!, the what-would-usually-be unmissable split of skin, there’s a muffled tearing of fabric as once beloved Mr. Hearts suddenly becomes two halves of himself. Puffy stuffing explodes into the air, faintly she can feel her beloved stuffed animal hit the floor mutedly. In some back door of her brain she knows what’s happened, but survival carries her feet—pumps her arms. Zeroes her gaze on the door, blocks out anything other than the gut instinct to run, run, run hard. 

Finger reach to grab the doorway, hurl herself around the corner—but it’s too late. Electric movement snaps through the air, a microsecond passes before a thick, heavy arm catches her around her waist. Hauls her backward, sucks her from the door like something from  Star Wars, the world spinning by in a Picasso of color and tears as she’s manhandled, forced back. Kicking her feet into the air, she wills him to break, throwing her body mass back, against him. Arches her back. Wrangles and claws at the hair on his arm, the muscle that is taught against her rebellion.  

Throat splitting with a shriek, she’s silenced when his enormous palm claps hard over her mouth. It feels like centuries have passed, but in reality, it’s been seconds. Breaths and heartbeats. Tears trailblaze hot down her face, her throat all but reverberating with sobs. Body heat wraps around her, butter down her spine as the arm around her middle pulls her tighter. Closer. Keep your enemies close—

And he’s tall, legs anchored behind her. Like a brick house. Snot begins to empty her sinuses in a slick, sticky mess. Her mouth attempts to open behind the palm of his hand,all saliva and spit. Doesn’t seem to do much. Digging her heels into the floor, her foot skims the floor. Looks for one of his. Finding it, she slams her heel against would-be soft bones, and he hisses. Grunts like an animal.

“Knock it off,” his baritone rumbles, a dangerous growl over her ear, “not here to hurt you, darlin’.” A lie. She doesn’t believe him, digs her heels farther into the soft flesh of his feet. Buries her nails into his muscle, the soft flesh of that tender spot under the wrist. Veins, lots of blood there. 

Something obscene slips past his lips. Fighting back more stinging tears, his fingers curl around her wrist bruisingly, and with herculean strength, he whips her about-face, suddenly chest-to-chest with her as his fingers fist in her hair. Pulls sharply, “fuckin’ hell—calm the fuck down,” his fingers fall from her hair, instead grab her chin with an almost bruising grip, “stop bawlin’, for Christssake,” 

Her nails milk as they dig into his wrist, deep red lines canyon the hand holding her face with a patience lost to most members of his sex. Hard, dark eyes hold hers with a fierceness that numbs her intestinal tract. For a moment, an arctic swirl is born and dies in his gaze, resurrected instead a hint of grief and—empathy, maybe. A lostness she can’t describe. Confusion punches lines between his knitted brows, etching deep into ruddy, masculine features a kind of unwordly handsome, had he not been sent to kill her. 

Oh God, please—Shaking, her eyes pinch closed again, unwilling to let him see any more of her soul. More snot and tears, saliva pearls between the seam of her lips as she tries, and fails, not to blubber. Knees buckle. Hangs there, full weight of her body supported on her chin between his fingers, jaw suddenly alive with inferno pain. It lasts seconds before he lets her go, and she sinks to the floor, slackdoll and sobbing. Staring across the floor, her cheek burns against the harsh fibers of the floor. 

Her belt. Abandoned, on the floor last night after a work dinner. It’s the only thing, and her brain conjures images of just exactly how she’d use it, suddenly Jackie Chan or GI Jane or some shit she’s seen a thousand times on film, has never executed. Hiccuping in short breaths between sniffles and sobs, tears leak into the carpet off her cheek. Her heart pumps blood that may as well pool into her chest, leak between the cracks in her confidence. 

Stepping back, he looks at her. A cocktail of surprise and irritated, he sinks to a crouch. Shakes off red marks that still linger on his arm, wipe her snot and saliva on his-–are those yellow?-–pants. No time to notice, to care—her nails catch against the fibers of the carpet. Begin to push her bodyweight up, on an elbow. 

Unburdening a sigh, his hand scrubs his face as hers darts across floorspace. Snatching the belt with a speed she’s never fostered, he doesn’t even have time to put two and two together before the leather snaps like a whip, thick silvers from a rodeo buckle landing fully on the bone of his jaw. Cuts a deep line that flashes scarlet, rips open flesh like a fillet knife. 

“Fuck!” it’s harsh, bestial.

Reeling back, she finds time to scramble to her feet like a clumsy foal, looping the belt around her fist once as he pops tall. Backpedaling away from arm’s length, she pistons towards the door, on fire and pumping adrenaline like a sieve. 

And she flies. Out of the bedroom. Down the corridor. Somehow she manages to find her keys on the kitchen table as his heavy, earthshaking feet pump down the hall. Fumbles over her own feet at the front door, slams into it hard, bounces off. Fingers suddenly unable to communicate coherently with her brain, the chain lock on her apartment door is all but burning as she tries, and fails, to work it just so. 

“Come on, come on! Work, you piece of shit—” she’s never sworn more in her life than she has now, and it’s sour, like bile splashing up on her back teeth. But it rips from her throat all the same, bitter and hot, as she mutters fuck, fuck, fuck me! under short, airy breaths that do nothing to put oxygen back into her body. May as well be a drowning soul, the way she sucks in air. Gasps for breath. Drowning or an emphysemic. 

Ignoring the hard breathing behind her is impossible. Whirling around on the ball of her foot, he’s close enough to lock her against the door. Her head falls back hard enough to knock against the door, rattle her teeth. And as her vision begins to settle from the bouncing in her cranium, she sees the three blades bury to the knuckle—the knuckle?—in her heavy, pristine oak front door. Rattles the wall, splits the sheetrock. 

Pupils blown wide, she can feel all the blood leave her body. Terror locks her spine between slavering, hungry teeth. Gaze welded to the blood pearling from fresh wounds between white knuckles, the hinge of her jaw fails. Her mouth opens mutedly, enough for him to count her teeth if he so desired. 

And maybe he does. “Goin’ somewhere, honey,” it isn’t a question. That grin is animalistic. “Stay awhile, huh?” 

He closes in. Her head snaps forward to find him. Nose to nose, he sneers at her, and her eyes think to move to the fillet of open flesh her attack has left on his jawline—or, had. No evidence of even so much as a mark on the sharp line of his jaw, just dark facial hair and sweat that’s bubbling up on his skin, angry red that fans up his neck. Swearing to God she can see the vein in his temple throb with blood, her grip on the leather belt tightens before reality sets in. 

Ohmygod, ”You’re—” her stomach resurrects up her throat. ”—Jesus,” and it isn’t so much a curse as it is a prayer, a hope. A lifeline—grasping at straws, praying something sticks.

Reality begins to fall away, through boneless fingers. Feeling the belt slip from her control, her throat suddenly constricts to the point of oxygen deprivation. Gaping like a fish, her tongue swells to a thick cotton she can no longer feel. 

Numb—everything buzzes with that painful, white-noise needling. 

And she does the only thing her body can manage. Shoves past him just enough to upset a chair—

—-and throws up. 

still working on my taglist but: @thevoicefromanotherworld @sidkneeeee @misscrissfemmefatale @eternallyfrustratedwriter and those who showed interest: @ayamenimthiriel @pandapetals @theoreticalfreak @definitely-not-chill @ghostytoasty17 @werewolfpilar

[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.

[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

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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 Tears pt.3

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. One more part to go for this story.

"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

[crazyk-imagine]

Mended Relationships and the Future

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Fem!reader Characters: Fem!reader, Ted Lasso, Coach Beard, Keeley Jones, Jamie Tartt, Rebecca Welton, Isaac Mcadoo, Colin Hughs, Sam Obisanya, Dani Rojas, Jan Maas, Roy Kent, literally all of the players (I just can’t think of their names) Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, cursing, mentions of pregnancies, mentions of reader not taking care of themselves (don’t do this), Jamie being sweet, reader and Jamie being dummies for a second, the team being so goddamn adorable, the team gives such family vibes, Jamie pretending the reader and he are engaged so he can stay with her, Ted and Beard are a powerful duo, this is my favorite TL fic that I’ve written Word Count: 3,783

A/N: Bits and pieces are based on this post

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You walk into the coach’s office with your hands in your hoodie pocket, clutching onto your phone to keep your hands busy. "Why did you wake me up and force me here, Ted?" 

"That's not a can-do attitude." 

Your expression doesn't change, if anything, you look more tired and drained. Another reason why the mustached man got you out of your home. "Ted." 

He sighs. "I wanted to check in on you, haven't seen you in a minute." 

You sigh. "I would prefer it if I were in my bed right now to be honest with you." 

"After we go out to lunch." 

"I want to be out of here before I run into..." You pause when you almost say his name. "You know what- I'm just- I’m gonna go." You barely turn around and hear the door open. 

It takes you less than a second to duck, which makes Ted feel a little bad but doesn't change his mind. 

He knows you two need to talk, especially when neither of you want to admit who broke up with who... or why it happened. 

Your emotions take a toll on your body again and you crawl towards the trash can, dry heaving until you feel it coming up (again). 

Beard kindly closes the door before anyone could walk in or hear you as Ted rubs the space between your shoulders. 

"How long have you been feeling like this?" 

You shrug. 

"How long?" He asks again. 

"A few weeks." 

Ted glances over at his long-time buddy with wide eyes. "Please don't get upset or take offense when I ask this but have you-" 

'Play dumb. Play dumb.' "Have I what? Use words, my brain isn't functioning off your noises." 

"Is there a possibility that you could be, you know, with child?" 

Your head snaps up. 'He knows.' "Why would you ask that?" 

"You have a few of the signs." 

"When was the last time you went to a doctor?" Beard chimes in. 

"A while ago." 

"So, you know?" 

"Whether or not I'm pregnant with my ex-boyfriend’s baby, who coincidentally told me he doesn't want kids just as I wanted to tell him I do. Yeah, it was right as I was about to tell him I am with child, which is why I've been dodging all of you but you and Beard here," you point to Ted's sidekick, who waves. "Dragged me out of my house." 

"Oh, honey." 

"Does he know?" Coach beard intervenes (again). 

"What do you mean?" 

"You said, you wanted to tell him... did you?" Ted politely asks. 

"He broke up with me, so I didn't give him my surprise, but I tell people it was mutual because he asked me if," the tears roll down your cheeks. "If it was okay. The fucking ex-cockiest player of all, asked me if I was going to be okay, so of course I said yes and then he left. We haven't spoken since." 

"He should know." 

"I know but he is scared to death to have his own kids. Why would I-" You scoot back and rest your head against the wall. "I want to go home. I have a few things coming later today and I need to be there for them. It’s time I start," you take a deep breath. “Getting things ready.” 

"We can get those later, I've gotta make sure you're okay right now." 

"I'd be better if this nausea, vomiting combo would go away." 

"Do you want me to have Keeley get you a ginger ale or something?" 

"Yeah." 

The door opens and there she is. She stares at you with the same look she gives you every time you throw up. "I had a feeling you were going to need this." 

-

Jamie sees what he imagines is a glimpse of you sitting in his coach’s office. He furrows his brows, wondering if it was really, you or if it's a figment of his imagination... again. 

It wouldn’t be the first time this week. 

-

"What?" She practically screams when Ted tells her on behalf of you, the Jamie not knowing part; she already knew you were pregnant, but she thought he knew and decided not to be in either of your lives. Now she feels a little bad about not being nice to him. 

You bury your head in your hands. "Shut up. Don't shout anymore, please." 

"Can you blame me? That's big fucking news babes. I thought he already knew." 

"Yeah, I know. Just, shut the door please." 

She doesn't, so you push yourself up and close the door. 

You sway as you take a step back, “oh, boy.” You can hear their voices but not hear their words. You feel yourself falling backwards before it fades to darkness. 

Ted and Beard catch you, carefully laying you down so the latter can call for an ambulance. 

Jamie steps closer to the office, sensing something’s happened. He opens the door and his jaw dropped as he’s about to ask what's going on until his eyes land on you. 

He immediately falls to his knees beside you, holding your face in his hands, not caring about the rug burn that’s going to ache later. "What happened?" 

No one responds. 

"What fucking happened?" 

Ted doesn't feel he should be the one to tell him and does all that he can to try and calm down his player. "She's fine, she probably didn't have enough to eat for breakfast, is all." 

"Bullshit. She's done that before and never fainted before." He stares down, studying your face. "So, why is she fucking unconscious?" 

-

You don't know anything that happened within the last few hours. 

All you know is that there is an annoying beeping sound coming from the side of you and your one hand is warmer than it normally is. 

You slowly open your eyes, blinking multiple times as you try to adjust to the lighting. You look for the source of the warmth and find Jamie, holding your hand with his head rested on his arm with his head facing you. 

The door opens and you find Ted peaking in. 

The way his shoulder sags in relief makes you feel bad. 

He tiptoes closer and lets you know what happened. 

"Why is he here?" 

He smiles as he peaks over at the sleepy man. "He didn't leave your side." 

"How did he know?" 

"He came in as we were calling for an ambulance. You scared him, he would barely let the paramedics help." 

"Isn't family only allowed in here?" 

"Apparently you two are engaged." 

You owlishly blink. "What?" 

"He said you two were engaged and he needed, no, no. That's not right, he demanded, there it is. He demanded to be in the room with you. I wasn't here for most of it. In the room I mean but I think he knows because he looked very shocked and then came in here when they told him he could and hasn’t left since." 

The coach ignores the fact that your heart monitor spikes as you ask, "he knows?" 

"I think so." 

Jamie moves a little in his sleep. 

"That's my cue to leave." 

"Wait- no. Ted. Come back." You glance between him and Jamie. "Ted," you hiss. "Come back here." 

Jamie squeezes your hand as he slowly begins to wake up. 

You look back at him just in time to hear the door close. You throw your head back and sigh. 

"Sweetheart?" 

You slowly turn your head to stare at him, your eyes becoming sad. 

His shoulders sag in relief as a slow sigh escapes his parted lips. "How are you feeling? I should- I should go get the doctor, shouldn't I?" 

You reach for him, grabbing onto him before he could leave. "Jaim. Jaim?" 

He doesn't turn around but settles back into his seat. 

"Jam-Jam?" 

A sniffle fills the room. 

"Jamie, look at me." 

He shakes his head. You tighten your grip on his arm, ignoring the familiar burning sensation in your nose. "Jamie, I need you to look at me." 

"Why?" He sniffles, staring at you with his now, bloodshot eyes. "Were you ever going to tell me?" 

"Don't throw that question my way, Tartt." 

"No more, Jam-Jam?" 

"I was going to tell you." 

"What? After the birth?" 

"I'm more tempted to now." You wipe the stray tear that tipped past your eye lid before he could see. "I initially planned on telling you right when you broke up with me but, we see how well that turned out." 

“Wh- is that what you had been trying to do the whole time?” 

You nod and lean forward, drawing him into you; needing to comfort him and be comforted all at once. 

He moves closer to you, closing his eyes at the feeling of your hand against his face; something he hasn’t felt in what feels like, forever. He hadn’t realized you were wiping away his tears. 

“I wanted to figure out the best way to tell you because, I mean we hadn’t exactly talked about us having kids before and I kind of figured that with everything that went on with your dad. I thought it was going to make it hard for you to think that you could be a good dad. Which, I think is stupid.” 

He opens his mouth to ask what you mean until you continue. 

“I mean, how could you not be a good dad because personally I think you’d be absolutely fucking phenomenal.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod, “big time. You’re already doing better than your dad.” 

“What do you mean?” 

You smile and sniff. “You’re not making any of the stupid decisions he has.” 

“I made one.” 

You tilt your head. “What was that?” 

“I broke up with you. I just-” He pulls back from you (something he does when he feels like he’s undeserving of something). “I thought- I thought you were pulling away to break up with me and you couldn’t figure out how to do it, so I-” 

“So, you thought breaking up with me first, was a better option?” 

He nods, scratching his head. 

“Come closer.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he weakly argues. 

“Come here.” 

He scoots the chair closer. 

“I need you to be honest with me when I ask these questions, okay?” 

He nods. 

You sigh through your nose and reach for his hand. “Is there any part of you that does not want to be a part of either of our lives?” 

“No.” 

“Do you want to be with me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you going to leave any time soon?” 

“The fuck do you take me for? I’m not going to leave you ever,” he stands up and bends down, staring into your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. “Okay? I love you too fucking much to let you go again. I hated being away from you.” 

“Same here but, I’m really happy you’re here… even if it was because I fainted.” 

“Speaking of, why did that happen exactly?” 

“I- well- I hadn’t had anything-” 

“Let’s just cut the bullshit, have you been taking proper care of yourself since we were separated?” 

You shamefully shake your head. 

He doesn’t show his disappointment, but you know it’s there. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry. Isn’t that- crying is stressful on the baby, ain’t it?” 

“Not so much- I mean, maybe?” 

“Okay, well.” He grabs your hands, bringing your attention to him. “Let’s take a few deep breathes so we can calm down for Baby Tartt.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Do do do doo.” 

“Listen to you. Guess I rubbed off on you, eh?” You roll your eyes, not believing that for a second. “Does any of what you’ve said within the last two minutes sound anything like what your dad could say?” 

“Not in the least bit.” 

“See, exactly. It further proves you’re different and how much you’ve grown from the cocky man who couldn’t care less about anyone else.” 

“Hey. That’s someone we don’t speak of.” 

“Of course,” you salute him. You two can barely keep your amusement to yourselves and break into a fit of smiles and giggles. 

He stares at you, watching as you wipe your cheeks and leans up, kissing your forehead before placing his on top of your head. “I was,” he hesitates to finish his sentence. 

You nod and cup his cheek, letting him know you’re there, a simple gesture to let him know you want to hear what he has to say. 

“-so scared when I saw you lying there unconscious.” 

Your heart drops at the way his voice cracks. “Jaim. Jaim. Look at me.” 

He shakes his head. 

You don’t push any further and instead opt for bringing him closer, letting him rest against your chest, squeezing you in a hug. 

It takes a few minutes before Jamie manages to calm himself down enough to revert back to your adorable boyfriend. “Oh, shit. I didn’t hurt the baby, did I?” He asks, now scared to touch you. 

“No. You didn’t.” 

You hold out your hand for him, “do you trust me?” 

He nods, “’course I do.” 

“Give me your hand.” 

He slowly inches his hand closer and closer to you. 

You huff and reach for him. “Are you ready?” 

He doesn’t move or make a noise as you place his hand over your belly. “Am I supposed to be feeling anything?” 

“Other than knowing the fact you are going to be a father soon enough, no. I’m not that far along for us to feel any kicking.” 

He bends down as a breath of relief escapes him. “Thank god, I thought I was supposed to feel kicking or something and I didn’t, which scared me the hell out of me because I thought he already hated me.” 

“He?” 

“I mean, hello,” he gestures to himself. You roll your eyes and take your hand back from him. “You’re so going to be cursed with girls.” “How can you say that?” 

“Have you met yourself?” 

“I have and we’re actually quite happy together, sorry for the late notice, sweetheart.” 

You close your eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. 

Ted peaks his head in through the door. “I see you two have talked things out? Hopefully, if not. No pressure. Well, maybe a little seeing as I have everyone waiting in the hall.” 

“Everyone?” You repeat. 

The coach nods. “Give me second.” He looks back over his shoulder, pretending to count, “one, two, four. Yep, everyone.” 

You place your hand on your forehead. “Suddenly the thought of everyone knowing makes me nauseous.” 

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” 

You turn your head and look at your favorite person ever… for now. 

“If we can get through the team being little shits and the press making unnecessary comments about our relationship, we can get through the team knowing.” 

“We can?” He gives you an affirmative nod, “we can.” 

“We can.” 

“Atta girl.” 

“Alright, guys. They said okay,” Ted waves everyone in. 

“I suddenly realize how many of you there actually are,” you comment. 

Sam, Dani, and Colin chuckled. 

“As captain, I feel like it’s my duty to ask,” Isaac leans closer to you, talking to you in a softer tone than his normal one. “How are you?” 

You smile, “I’m better now.” 

“Good, that’s what we like to hear. Ain’t that right, team?” 

“Yes, coach!” 

“And now I’m scared.” 

“Oh, don’t be scared especially when you’re carrying a special bundle of joy,” the mustached man points out. 

“Oh fuck.” 

“Something the matter, Roy?” Ted asks. 

“Yeah. She’s carrying Tartt’s baby.” 

“I’m pretty sure they covered that topic back in school but continue.” 

“There’s going to be a baby brought into the world soon.” 

“Yeah?” Ted glances over at Beard, who shrugs. 

“With his blood coursing through its veins,” he points to your ex-not-ex-boyfriend. 

It’s quiet for three seconds before everyone groans and rolls their eyes, they think about what it could be like with a baby Jamie. 

“Hey, hey now. Let’s not think about something as crazy as that because this baby is a good thing.” 

“Yeah?” Jamie whispers, glancing back at Ted, not letting go of your hand. 

“Yes, it is,” the coach nods. “You’re going to go through one of the many joys life brings you.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Fatherhood… that, may or may not mix with a lot of uncles and two aunts who decide they want to spend time with the little booger.” 

“Would one of those many figures happen to include you, coach?” 

“No,” Ted shakes his head. 

“Not at all, Beard.” 

The door opens and heads turn. 

“Hi, I’m just here to-” The nurse takes note of the number of people in the room. “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask anyone but the father and mother of the child to leave.” 

“Is it not believable that a woman could have this many boyfriends?” Jan asks. 

“Shut up.” A shoe aimed at his head, hits the wall and lands on the floor with a thud. 

The guys decide it’s time for them to leave, which lets you two see the few things the team has gotten, and it makes you tear up, freaking Jamie out. 

And he doesn’t want to admit it out loud, but it was really nice of them team to do. 

“Should we open some presents?” Ted softly asks, placing one in your lap. 

“Didn’t the nurse just kick you out.” 

“I’m your dad.”

 “We’re your dads,” Beard adds. 

You glance over at Jamie. 

He shrugs, not completely hating the idea of having these two around. “I would’ve liked to know about my new parents beforehand. What’s next? Roy’s my uncle.” 

“No, he’s a granddad more than anything,” Jamie chimes in. 

You wipe your cheeks and smile at him before gently pulling the tissue paper out of your way. You pull out a onesie that looks normal, until you unfold it and inspect it. You sniffle as you hold it up for Jamie to see. 

He doesn’t realize why you’re crying until he reads what the back of it, “Tartt 9”. He doesn’t feel the tears trickling down his cheeks until you wipe his cheeks. 

“Jaim?” 

He shakes his head and pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head, over and over again. 

Ted smiles behind his phone. 

“We should probably give them some time alone.” 

“You think?” He asks. 

Beard nods. 

Ted sighs, “okie dokie.” 

They hold their hands up to wave, only to find your face squished against Jamie’s chest, barely able to wave them off. 

You and Jamie wind up opening every one of the other gifts, enjoying each other’s company after being apart for so long. 

“I think we should name it Jamie.” 

“Baby Tartt is not an it, it’s a baby,” you argue. 

“And we’re not naming them Jamie.” 

“Why not? It’s a good name.” 

“I’m not saying it’s a bad name but, we want our little pumpkin to be able to grow into their own, right?” 

“We-” He sighs, thinking about it, already knowing you were right. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” 

“Was that everything?” 

“I don’t know.” He glances over, finding a bag left on the floor, partially hidden so you couldn’t find it unless you were really looking. He grabs it and sets it in your lap. “What do you think it is?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug and move it closer for him to open (feeling you’ve done enough of the unveiling with presents). 

He pulls a figure out of the bag. “A bike?” Jamie brows furrows together in confusion until he thinks about it. The light bulb goes off in his head, everything clicking together, and he smiles. 

“Is there a card?” 

“I hope so.” 

Now you’re confused. 

He pulls out what looks like a plain index card. “Free one learn how to ride a bike pass.” He chuckles. 

“I’m lost.” 

“Remember how I told you I had something funny I wanted to tell you a couple months ago, but I couldn’t because the shithead was making me train, even though Ted gave us the night off.” He huffs and sits back in the chair. 

“Okay, I don’t need the background information, just give me the synopsis.” 

“Right,” he straightens his back. “I taught Roy how to ride a bike in memory of his granddad.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah,” he nods with a smile. 

“And he let you?” 

“Not without trying to hurt me but I did it.” 

“I’m so proud of you.” 

“Yea- really?” 

“Of course, I’m proud of you. You taught the world’s grumpiest man how to ride a bike and lived to tell the tale.” 

“I guess you’re right.” 

“Of course, I’m right.” 

“I hope the baby doesn’t get your cockiness.”

“My cockiness? What about yours?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” 

“You lie.” 

He fake gasps and slaps his hand on his chest. “I take offense to that.” 

“I’m not sorry.” 

“You should be. We don’t want this one’s first word to be a lie.”

“It wouldn’t, don’t be mean,” you whine. 

“I’m not. I’m just being me.” 

“Yeah, and that’s mean.” 

He smiles and shakes his head. 

You start folding a few of the blankets the guys got, feeling the need to do something. “Hey, look. They got one with sharks.” 

“We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.” 

“Girls can like boy things too.” 

“Do you really want to be asked if we have a boy or a girl every day.” 

“Don’t be mean.” You smile, holding it close to your chest. “I like it. Baby Tartt, do do doo doo. Baby Tart, do do doo doo.” 

He groans, “please stop.” 

“Never.” 

You stiffle a yawn. 

“Come on,” he takes away the few things on your lap and blanket from your hands. “You need to rest.” 

“But I don’t want to.” 

He smiles at the whining tone in your voice. “I know but it’ll do the two of you well.” 

“Fine,” you tell him with a pout. “But sit by me. I… I’ve missed you.” 

“How can I say no to my girlfriend?” Jamie settles beside you and lets you lay against his chest. 

As you sleep and he’s bored, searching through the hospital’s shitty channels, he stumbles upon something interesting, an old childhood show he used to watch. 

You open your eyes to hear the song you briefly sang earlier. 

“Doo doo. Baby Tartt, do do doo doo.” 

“Jam-Jam?” 

“Hey,” he clears his throat. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better. What were you doing?” 

He shrugs. 

You smile and snuggle back into him. “I won’t tell anyone.”

[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.”

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

Let me know if you want to be added!

[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 and 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!

[ghostboneswrites2]

Hi!! I want to start of by saying that I love your writing!

So while watching twd I noticed that Daryl has more tattoos in the later seasons and can only guess that they’re stick-and-poke and that he did them himself. Do you think you could write a fic where the reader(f) is in a relationship with Daryl and asks him to give her a tattoo (which she has none of btw)? I was thinking like a little arrow or something because she “wants to have something of him even when they’re apart”? And make it super fluffy and stuff?

Marked

18+ MDNI || Warnings: Needles, profanity, mostly just fluffy nice cool Daryl

Note: I am not encouraging you to give anyone or receive an at home tattoo via sewing needle or tattoo gun, but I have received my fair share of both and the descriptions in this story are just based off my vague memory of how it was done for me! It is definitely not a tattoo guide.

edited to add: tysm for the compliment ilysm <3

        "Did you always have that tattoo?" You wondered, tracing over the dark marking on his arm. The two of you were on one of your regular afternoon strolls through the woods when you decided to lay against a log and chat. The sunbeams filtered through the canopy above and littered little golden rays over his arms, highlighting the light hairs and texture of his skin. These moments were your favorite. Peaceful bliss in the natural world.

        Daryl shook his head.

        "Nah. Did it awhile back." He said.

        "How?"

        "Never had a stick-n-poke?" He asked.

        "Never had a tattoo, period. Let alone a prickle-poke." You shrugged.

        "It's stick-n-poke." He snickered silently. You glared.

        "Whatever. Can you give me one?" You asked.

        "A tattoo?" 

        "Yeah. The stick-n-prickle kind." You joked.

        "Alright." He nodded. "Gotta get some supplies together for it."

----

        You watched as he carefully burned the little sewing needle and wrapped it in thread. 

        "Why thread?" You asked.

        "Kinda helps hold the ink but mostly jus' for grip." He explained.

        He set up a tiny container on the side table of your bed with black liquid.

        "Is that ink?" You asked.

        "Mm-hmm." He nodded.

        "You made it?"

        "Uh-huh."

        "How?"

        "Soot. Alcohol. Water." He shrugged. "Ain't hard."

        "Cool." You whispered, fascinated by his expertise. 

        "Wha'd'ya want?"

        "I was thinking about an arrow." You said. "A small one. Real simple." He raised an eyebrow. "For you, dummy."

        "I got that but.. Why?" He tilted his head a little.

        "'Cause. I wanna have something for you... Always. Even when we're apart." You said with a soft smile. He hid his face bashfully, not wanting to expose the little blush that was creeping over his features. Instead, he pretended to adjust the thread around the needle.

        "Where ya want it?" He asked when his flushed cheeks returned to their normal sunkissed glow.

        "Right here." You pointed to your ring finger, right where a ring would go.

        "Ya sure?"

        "Mm-hmm." You nodded surely. He wiped some alcohol over that spot to disinfect it.

        "Alright." He said. He delicately grabbed your finger and held it in place. "Y'ready?"

        "I've had worse than a little pin prick." You giggled. "I'm ready."

        Without another word, he got to work carefully poking the needle through your skin, freehanding a perfect line. You watched in awe, studying his look of concentration, the way he tilted his head to see though his hair, holding your finger up close to his face to make sure every detail was perfect. It only took about twenty minutes. You looked it over when he finished, holding your hand up the way someone does when they're admiring their engagement ring.

        "Wow." You grinned. "How did you make such a perfect line?"

        "Ain't perfect." He shrugged.

        "It is! I love it." You insisted. A half smile curled at the corner of his lips.

        "'M glad, 'cause it don't wash off." He joked. You rolled your eyes.

        "This is no laughing matter, Daryl. You just proposed to me, ya know." You said in mock seriousness.

        "What?" His eyes widened. Even under the tan skin, his face still drained of color. 

        "Yeah," you pressed on. "This is my ring finger. Like, the ring finger. And you permanently marked it with something symbolic to yourself." You gloated.

        He blinked. He couldn't tell if you were joking or not.

        "Anyways, I'm gonna go talk to Carol about planning the wedding. I bet Rosita and Tara would be beautiful bridesmaids." You rambled. "Oh, and instead of cake, everyone gets a glass of moonshine!"

        "I don' think.."

        "I'm kidding, genius." You rolled your eyes. He relaxed a little. "Thanks though. I love it."

        He cleared his throat and stood up, cleaning his workspace so not to clutter your bedroom.

        "Oh, by the way.. This is the ring finger." You smirked. He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head.

        "Don't go showin' the whole damn world and tellin' 'em we're married." He grumbled.        

        "Would that be so bad?" You pouted. He smirked and planted a kiss on your forehead.

        "Nah. But I ain't proposin' with no damn stick-n-poke. Gon' find ya somethin' better than that."

        Your face lit up, practically brightening the entire room.

        "You're gonna propose?!" You bounced with joy.

        "Wha-- I didn't--"

        "Oh, my god! I have to tell Carol!!" You squealed as you darted out of the room. He stood there expressionless, processing what he had just done.

        "Shit." He mumbled. It wasn't that he wouldn't propose one of these days. He'd love to call you his forever. Otherwise, he never would have marked you with something that represented him in the first place. It was just.. That it would draw so much attention to him. He sighed. He guessed he walked right into that one.

---

        "When did you do this?" You asked him, holding up his ring finger that was now decorated with a little cloud shape.

        "Yesterday." He shrugged.

        "Is that a cloud?" You eyed it closer.

        "Mm-hmm." 

        "For what?"

        "Dunno. Ya always stare up at the clouds when we take long drives." He explained. "Now we're both marked."

Join the taglist! || Masterlist

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[konigsblog]

I’d like to direct those sending hate to people simply writing dark content to holding adult video sites accountable if they want to achieve some kind of moral victory.

There have been multiple instances of sites like 🌽 hub taking genuine footage of rape/SA and refusing to remove it even when requested multiple times by the victim. Some of their heavier ‘consensual’ bondage vids etc have been said to involve deliberately pushing expressed boundaries by female actors that have do things they didn’t originally agree to for fear of loosing their job. These are real people- their experiences are REAL and have a lasting physical, social and mental effect.

Ghost, König etc are not real. Y/n, is a reader insert of course, but you are never in genuine danger. Everything you ‘put yourself’ into in these fics, can stop at the press of a button. You can hate it, hate the author and never interact with them again- problem solved (If only y’all would do that). In real life? A SA/rape survivor has lived through it, suffers from it forever and might have the disgusting burden of having to see their assaulter in the flesh at work, home etc.

To insinuate that a piece of fanfic that can be ignored, that you CHOOSE to engage with is as equally abhorrent as the real act is disgusting. It’s downright offensive. It’s a great discredit to us victims and shows you don’t actually give a damn about us at all.

You’ll be silent when it’s time to hold a harmful industry accountable/silent in the face a thousand men saying that 🌽 actresses ‘deserve it’ but will continually send hate to what is a largely femme community for typing words on a screen that you could avoid so easily. Yeah, I know why, there’s a word for it starting with M :)

On that note, most of these people are dead silent on other fandom issues which proves it’s vendetta, not justice based. They don’t actually care about making it a ‘safe place’ (which is impossible, that’s no one else’s responsibility but your own). Not a peep about racism, for example- can’t be assed making fandom more accessible and less exclusive to POC, gotta go out of their way to harass authors though!

You don’t have to like dark content, or even the authors. You can have limits, disdain bad tagging practices, question respectfully why someone might want to read/write such content, but don’t you dare use victims as a scapegoat or insinuate that you are in any way justified if you choose to harass or bully. Do better; focus your energy somewhere actually productive and deserving of criticism, or shut up and move on.

I agree with absolutely everything you said. These are the same people that consume pornography via porn sites, then sit and complain about people having rape fantasies and consuming dark fiction (key word: fiction). They care more about people's kinks and fantasies and decisions in the bedroom (where both parties have consented beforehand), then they do about the REAL rape tapes on porn sites. It's not just rape either, there's a lot of incredibly fucked-up, illegal, and sickening things on these sites that I won't get into. People have their trauma published, profited off of, and are violated for money, and these sites never take these videos down either.

They care too much about their comfort character being portrayed in a way they don't agree with to focus on the poor souls who have had their trauma uploaded online – and to make money off! Are the COD characters real, or am I missing something? They're fictional characters. Just because you don't agree with a headcannon doesn't mean that everyone else also disagrees. It doesn't determine their morality. And honestly, do I really think these hateful and spiteful people are victims of some form of assault? No, I don't. Because victims of SA/rape (who cope differently) filter things out to prevent themselves from getting triggered. I don't think that these hate anons are actually triggered by the content I upload and just want to judge others for coping differently. They just want to seem more moral – as if your mortality depends on your coping mechanisms/fantasies are. If you don't want to watch a video, you wouldn't choose to watch it anyways. You wouldn't force yourself to watch the entire thing, then come to the comment section and cry about how you're not interested in the topics featured in the video. You watching that video was a decision you made, a choice. You wouldn't take a kid to a horror film that's clearly 18+, then scream at the film directors for creating it in the first place. If you're not the intended audience, then don't stay. There is an audience of people who do enjoy dark fiction, and just because you don't, doesn't mean that it can't exist. The world doesn't only revolve around you. It's selfish and small-minded.

You get taught about fiction and non-fiction in Primary school, and yet here we are, have to tell adults (or at least people who claim they're 18+) the difference between the two. If you can't draw a line between fantasy and reality, then you shouldn't have access to the internet. That's irresponsibility. It's people wanting to be saviours, act as if they have the moral high ground because they disagree and think that it makes them a better person, when it doesn't. If anything, them constantly harassing innocent writers is worse than what they try to portray us dark content writers as. These are the same people wishing rape, death, and doxxing towards writers who have done nothing but be respectful and give out warnings before a story. Dark fiction writers have more empathy and sympathy than these puritans who think they're on top of the world for coping differently, because we actually understand that there are different mechanisms to cope after being sexually assaulted.

I will never apologise for writing what I write. I refuse to walk on eggshells around these anons simply because they can't act mature and manage their own triggers. These people won't bother reading the articles that I've linked countless times, or listen to this entire post. Because they're narrow-minded, that's what narrow-minded folk do. They don't hear other opinions or think for a second, that maybe, just maybe, they're being disrespectful. They claim we're romanticising rape by writing it, but don't bother learning what romanticising actually is. I've said countless times that rape is a disgusting, violating crime that deserves years of punishment. I don't describe what these characters do as IDEAL or something to WANT, if anything, I describe them as horrible people because that's how I see them. They're in the military for God's sake...

When they send hate to an author's askbox, do they think for a second about the effect it'll have? Victims go through years of self hatred and disgust after being traumatised, and when they find a coping mechanism, do you think they want to be told that they deserve to be raped again, or that they're disgusting, or that they're supporting the vile crime? Of course they don't, because they don't support victims at all.

These people are too illiterate to read this entire post. If anything, it'll go right through them. In one ear and out the other. Am I also responsible for the media they consume? As in, horror films? Will I hold their hand and cradle them, rock them to sleep because they don't want to take responsibility? That's life. You have responsibilities. You can't just drop them because you feel like it and then put it on a writer's shoulders because YOU weren't thinking.

And sure, I can see how dark fiction can possibly affect reality. But, that's not my responsibility. If someone is has the urge to rape someone, that's an issue on their behalf, caused by mental illness. I can't control what people do, just like how film directors can't control the effect that their work will have. If people get themselves off to my content, that's not my responsibility. Writers and film directors aren't responsible for the effect it'll have on others, because there are a plethora of factors that can change a reaction towards certain content, like mental illness, for example. Mental illness plays a huge factor.

[keigokoutarou]

“Do you like my hips?” Pt. 1.5

Simon “Ghost” Riley x AFAB!Reader

Pt. 1.5 bc I love cliffhangers *smooches*

Find Pt. 1 here! | Pt. 2

Warnings: welcome to my tit talk (literally that’s all that’s here) Suggestive content

Oh you were writhing. Shaking. Beaming with excitement in your seat as you looked at yourself in the review mirror. The ride to base had never felt so fucking long. This 20 minutes used to feel like bliss before you had to deal with the guys but today? You were sure the speed you traveled was considered reckless.

Pulling up to the gate, you stopped for the MP to check your I.D.

“No camos today again sergeant?” The MP asked, trying so hard not to eye your chest.

“Another maintenance day.” You shrugged. “Gotta get the buggies in good shape before our next mission.”

“Yes ma’am.” He smiled. “Have a good one, Sergeant.”

Oh, I will. You thought to yourself as you waved him off and headed toward the yard as you and soap called it.

Pulling in, you noticed a few other cars and began counting them out.

Price’s Raptor, Gaz’s AMG and Soap’s old FJ. You groaned in annoyance.

“If he doesn’t show today, I’m going to lose it.” You grumbled, pulling your keys and sliding out of your rebuilt rx-7 before shutting and locking the door behind you.

You almost stomped your way through the yard to the last set of buggies that needed attention.

“Swear I could hear you coming down the highway in that thing.” Soap laughed, rubbing his hands on a greasy towel.

“Funny, I didn’t think she was loud enough.” You smirked, following Soap back to the one he was working on.

“We’re about done, just need to do two more oil changes.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead to clear the beads of sweat.

“I can start on one then.” You nodded your head.

“I laid everything out already but um, don’t want to like cover up first?” He raised an eyebrow, lifting his hands up to his chest. “Lieutenant seemed pissed on Tuesday about it.”

“Oh did he?” You quirked an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Heard him bitching to himself about you ‘flaunting’ all over base after you left.” Soap shrugged.

“Seems like he just needs to get over himself.” You giggled.

“Or he needs to get laid.” Soap chuckled along side you.

“Is he even coming today?” You threw in, silently thanking Soap for leaving the opening.

“He’ll be in shortly. Said he was meeting with Alejandro, the guy we have our new mission with.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “I’ll get started then. Wouldn’t want lieutenant pouty to have my ass.”

“I dunno, he might want to.” Soap winked, turning his back to you and returning to his work.

“Oh you have no idea.” You mumbled to yourself before heading toward the truck.

Time had flown by since you laid on the creeper and rolled yourself up under the buggy with tools in hand.

“Ah, fuck.” You groaned as the bolt to the oil pan fell straight into the drip pan with oil spouting out over top of it. Rolling your eyes, you huffed and dropped your wrench and socket beside you before leaning over to look for the bolt.

“Little shit.” You hissed at the little metal knob for falling instead of staying in the socket. You leaned the opposite way, dropping into a random pan you had found to hold anything important and prevent them from rolling away.

Laying back on the creeper again with a huff, you looked at the engine oil staining your hand and like a light bulb switched, you were filled with a genius idea.

“Whoops.” You giggled to yourself as you wiped the oil on the front of your shirt and purposely made sure a smear or two landed on the tops of your breasts. “Wonder how that got there.”

Evil it was and evil you were. Maybe you had started this deadly war, you thought to yourself as you waited for the oil to drain, but Simon made his move and it would be wrong not to engage in such a fun game of chess.

You were impatient as time passed, closing up the oil pan as it finished draining. On the last turn to tighten it with all your might, you heard your favorite sound.

“She should be around here somewhere.” You heard a deep voice break the every day noise of the base.

It was your beckoned fucking call. You smiled, checking your cleavage to make sure it was ample in its beauty before looking to the sides of you to spot Simon’s signature walk.

To your left, you noticed him approaching from the direction Soap was in. Beside him you noticed another set of legs and you realized that it must have been Alejandro. Your smile turned from excited to devious in seconds. This was going to be fun.

You waited until the got closer, assuming Simon had seen you since he called out your name.

You pushed yourself off the suspension and slid out from under the buggy on the creeper. You held your hand out to shield your eyes from the sun and to catch a clean look at your Lieutenants face.

He held his hand out to you, offering help to get you up so you could properly greet. You smiled, meeting his eyes with a knowing smirk as he not so shamelessly eyed your chest. This time, he wasn’t subtle. His hand gripped yours tighter than ever and in that instant, you wondered what it would feel like grabbing at the inside of your thighs.

“Sergeant.” Simon sounded so annoyed. You were glad.

“Lieutenant Riley.” You were absolutely beaming.

“I’d like you to meet Colonel Alejandro Rojas.” He gritted his teeth, trying so hard to maintain an even tone.

You narrowed your eyes slightly in a playful way before turning your attention to the man beside him.

“Sergeant F/N L/N.” You smiled, extending your hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine.” He might have smiled a little to hard but you knew Simon caught it and that’s all you cared about.

“I’m excited to get a chance to work with you. Captain Price says you’re great with a Lachmann.” You ignored the tall angry man beside you, fully engaging with Alejandro.

“He speaks too highly of me.” Alejandro chuckled.

“I doubt that.” You waved off his comment. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Alejandro nodded, fully unaware of the part he played as pawn. Sure it was a cheap move but it was too easy. Too easy to dig the hypothetical knife just a little deeper into Simon’s side.

“Price wanted to go over some finer details with you before tonight’s big debrief.” Simon interrupted. “He’s in the large building over there, I’ll catch up with you.”

Alejandro nodded, bidding you one more small smile before walking off and leaving you with Ghost.

You crossed your arms, being sure to push your chest out just a little more as you turned to fully face him in a challenge as you looked up at your lieutenant.

“Playing dirty now, aren’t we?” His tone was shifting, dare you say to a more angry one.

“Was I?” You played innocent, almost batting your lashes at the man.

His eyes seemed to flash with excitement at the realization that you wanted to play. Not just submit to him because that would be too easy. You wanted to draw out this game with him as long as possible.

“You little minx.” He shook his head, crossing his arms to match your stance.

“Lieutenant Riley, I’m not sure that’s how you should speak to your peers.” You tilted your head to the side. “It wouldn’t be great for team morale.”

He looked at you, eyes darting between each of yours and then squaring with your chest.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing at, Sergeant.” His voice was even now, smooth and coated in lust.

“Is it now?” You stepped closer to him, looking up through your eyelashes. “If I recall, you’re the one who started this little game of ours.” Your smirk was wicked and he loved it. “I thought about just giving into you because I’m sure you’d just love that… but giving up this soon would be a waste.”

“You look tough now.” His hands fell to his side, making a step to match yours and close the gap. His index finger found its way under your chin, tilting your face up toward him and making your lips part slightly. “I bet I can wipe that cocky smirk right off.”

“Is that so?” You were trying. So. Fucking. Hard. You almost felt like you were shaking with excitement.

“Give me one chance.” When had his face gotten so close? You could almost feel the puffs of air coming through his mask.

He was being blatant now and that earned him a sweet little gasp from your lips.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” His words were now close to your ear, breaking every rule in the book by playing this game with you out in the open. “My quarters tonight. 9 P.M.”

He stepped back, allowing you to breathe. You took an extra step at the snap back into reality.

“I didn’t take you as a beggar, Simon.” You smiled. “We’ll see about tonight.” You waved, turning on your heels in an unknown direction to put distance between you and Simon.

“Fucking hell.” He released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he watched you walk away and out of sight.