#in my defense it SHOULDN'T have been that close to me

[rueharley]

"It's not In my nature to"

Rafe cameron x Reader girlfriend

Where Reader and Rafe cameron get into an argument over why reader has been distant. Mostly for me to just vent out; things have been tough lately.

+ make up (I promise it's a happy ending)

.....................................................................

"Baby, talk to me," Rafe said with a tone influenced with a hidden plea. His eyes were trained onto me like a sniper, watching for any break, any hint of me opening up to him.

"I don't want to talk," I retort simply, my gaze falling anywhere but between the two sofas we were on.

My shoulders felt tense, no matter me trying to remain calm. Although I felt my throat being tight, I restrained myself from clenching my jaw, the gesture so easily being misunderstood as contempt.

He leaned back on the sofa and huffed, "of course" he mumbled, his voice bordered on anger, this was a point that wasn't lost on me.

I find anger unbearable and terrifying, yet clearly not enough to pull me from my old bad habits.

He looked across to me, i could almost see him as he considered if he should push me or not.

His icy blue eyes flickered across my face, analysing what the hell was wrong with my and why I was always so defensive.

I exhaled slowly, I felt this deep undercurrent of shame, of disgust with myself.

He, of course, was right. I should confide in him, talk to him, speak to him, say something to him. Regardless of the irrational, morbid, or even absurd concerns of mine, I shouldn't be hiding from him like this.

This is a default defence of mine - It is destructive.

"Can you give me some idea on what's wrong?" he spoke pulling me from my thoughts.

His voice was still filled with annoyance but he tried to keep reasonable, and I was grateful for that.

I ran through all the thoughts in my head. Give him something, anything, just try.

"is it.. Your family? Did something happen with them?" he spoke tentatively, trying to encourage me.

I shook my head, the simple act of speaking was now something that felt impossible. How can emotions manage to disable your most practiced actions so competently?

"Your friends..?" his words assaulted the air and I could only feel bad for making him guess.

He shouldn't have to guess what was wrong, the whole reason I didn't tell him because I think I'm being sensitive. It's not a secret, just something I wanted to blow over.

A moment of silence passed as he contemplated continued questioning. It's strange how well we read each other, yet sometimes we can't reach each other at all.

He sighed softly, he knew by my little reaction that my response was a no.

"is it.. Me? Did I do something?" he said with an almost unnoticed increase of frustration. His eyes watched me a bit closer, I wondered if he already knew.

It didn't even cross my mind to verbalise agreement. Yet in my mind the words 'yes' were speaking.

A tactical pause enveloped the room, a tactical pause or a hesitant falter - I'm ignorant to the difference.

I nodded so delicately, as if my agreement could cause an entire war from the simple gesture.

The ticking clock on the wall was mocking us. Mocking our inability to be as readable and consistent as it was. But this is a bit of a random and unnecessary thought.

His gaze focused and I felt the room's atmosphere intensify. I think I just confused the hell out of him while simultaneously giving him the relief of something close to an answer.

"I did something?" his voice was lower and genuinely curious, "what did I do, baby?"

I watched his bewildered face, it made me feel a pang of guilt. This was the whole reason I never wanted to tell him in the first place.

I looked to my hands, I was now rethinking everything I felt, gushing with guilt or was it remorse, I'm not sure what the difference is.

I need to speak, I have to speak.

I can feel him waiting to hear me and for some reason it feels like a climax to an undefinable end.

What is it that I'm overthinking, I havnt even said a word yet.

But that's the thing; words are unbearable. Who gave humans the ability to speak, yet be misunderstood with a strange sense of eagerness. Words hold no solace, they simply lack the inbetweens that might articulate my feelings.

Maybe there are not enough words to describe what is happening to me - or maybe I was never supposed to try.

I was suddenly pulled from my thoughts, Rafes gaze was still on me and he knew I was thinking about the exact thing he did.

"it is something you did"

My words were like a storm and the silence that followed were like a palpitation.

His expression hardened as I confirmed that the source of the issue was him.

I knew that if looks could speak, ours would be screaming at each other in multiple languages. Not angrily, just because at times we can both be very expressive people.

He could read in my pretty bland expression that I wasn't going to go any further into this. Admitting it was him at the root of it was an achievement in itself.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration and concern sat precariously on his handsome features.

I loved him so much.

He leans forward, closing some of the distance between us. His eyes were focused with a hint of determination.

"Can you at least let me know what it is that I did?" he spoke lowly and carefully. He was really trying to understand this confusing rift between us.

"No.." I say quietly, speaking a bit quicker than I wanted to and instantly regretting it. That was my best opportunity to open up and I lost it with my own stubbornness.

A flicker of anger met his face. His icy gaze, not colder, but deeper, as if challenged by the extent of his own emotions.

"You won't even tell me? Why are you being so damn frustrating..?"

Without missing a beat from his harsher reply I replied

"You were the one trying to get it out of me when I didn't want to say anything." my tone wasn't too harsh, I never could be too harsh with him, but it definitely carried some heat.

Rafe scoffed as he looked away for a moment. His gaze remained in the distance, he was trying to calm himself.

The slow realisation that seems to be felt simultaneously during arguing came into the room. A mutual recognising that we do love each other, that arguing is kinda stupid.

"You're not making this very easy" he spoke gently, his gaze still away.

"It's not In my nature to" I replied, ensuring that silence wouldn't have arrested the room.

His unintentionally intense gaze came back to me.

It was so open it was almost alarming, so I looked to him with that same, surrendering agreement.

"what did I do, baby?" he spoke, his words lacking bite or challenge. His eyes were softer but focused, in no universe would I feel fonder of something.

I inhaled deeply and decided to bite the bullet. Face it. I loved him and love makes you have to do hard things.

"I'm just a bit.. Scared.." I began to say, my words delicate, my words precise, and with a little too much thought.

"Come here, baby," Rafe practically whispered as he tapped the sofa besides him.

I moved to besides him, the soft feeling of comfort meeting my body from his simple gesture.

I sat besides him and he rests his hand on my thigh.

I was sat close enough that I could smell the faint scent of his cologne.

"why are you scared, baby?" he asks quietly, his gaze ducking to stay on mine.

"I just.. I realised how serious this relationship is now.. That we are tied, like that" I say, crossing my fingers following the gesture of two souls intertwined.

I noticed how a flicker of confusion met with his eyes, yet he remained quiet to let me speak.

"I'm scared because I realised this is headed one way and that this is a serious, long term relationship" I spoke, a bit more confidently now.

"baby.." he bagan to reply, his gaze flickering off as he collected his words. "so you've been off and distant lately.. Because of a good thing..?"

"well 'good thing' is all about perspective.." my voice trailed slightly.

"no, baby," he cut me off, his tone a bit harsher, "it is not a bad thing. This relationship is a good thing, it's precious to us both, so you'll be fine,"

"but-"

"No, this isn't something you get upset over. Don't get upset over good things," He said his tone lightening to his more usual confident tone.

I sighed, not convinced.

He moved closer to me and held the side of my neck with his hand. His eyes watched me with their usual fondness and ease.

"my pretty girl" he murmurs.

I smiled slightly under his gaze, his words sounded so beautiful.

"I've always gotta keep an eye on your thoughts, huh"

I tutted at his choice of words, however, he did aways have a way to deal with my anxieties. He often just denied them and kept reminding me of reality, and when it's coming from him it seems to work.

He moved closer, his hot breath fluttered over my skin.

"pretty, Gorgeous, baby.. Mine, my baby," he murmers, almost inaudible.

It made my heart beat a bit quicker hearing him speak like that.

He quickly moved closer pushing his lips on to mine. He kissed me with passion and desire, somehow it blocked out all my thoughts.

He continued to kiss me, our lips moving against each others desperately.

I pushed against the kiss wanting more, yet he pulled away, much to my dismay.

I huffed out in protest.

"need to know you'll talk to me about this stuff in the future, baby," he says quietly resting his forehead against mine.

I nodded in response, as agreement.

"yeah?" he says wanting me to copy him for a verbal reply. His eyes bored into mine.

"yeah." I reply with promise.

"good girl, I love you, my baby," he says moving and kissing me lightly on the forehead.

"I love you too"

[followthebluebell]

Feral kittens are so funny. They are so angry about everything--- including being petted, even when they start purring and cuddling--- but they want attention very much.

This boy is going to be fine. He's about 8 weeks old and has a little respiratory infection, but his biggest problem right now is that people keep repeatedly picking him up and calling him very cute and tiny and cuddling him.

[doberbutts]

With this latest round of discourse being "trans men shouldn't complain about being kicked out of women's spaces", I felt the urge to write up a relatively long post regarding the topic, as I feel it is a long tangled mess and involves a significant amount of people simply talking past each other.

To begin, what is a woman's space? I ask this, because "women's spaces" often fall under one of three categories: medical services, social services, and social gatherings. Of the three, trans men need access to nearly everything if not everything included within "medical services" and "social services". These things often need to be considered co-ed anyway, but are still considered "for women" and often are labeled things like "women's health" or "women's defense". Social gatherings- things such as book clubs, concerts, festivals, and other similar outings- can have a nuanced and complicated history when it comes to the inclusion, or exclusion, of trans men.

As an example- I am a binary, gay trans man who has not yet been sterilized. If I become pregnant and need to seek out social services, I must do so via my provider's "Women and Babies" department. I am neither of those things, and yet regardless of whether I am completing or terminating the pregnancy, I must label myself a woman in order to receive care. If I wish to have a pap smear, receive birth control, or investigate my chances of ovarian and cervical cancer, I must do so via the "Women's Health Clinic". I am not a woman, but I must label myself as one in order to discuss sterilization options. Many trans men who have had their gender markers changed prior to sterilization have reported difficulty even booking an appointment, as well as difficulty convincing their insurance to pay for this appointment due to a discrepancy with gender markers vs gendered care. Many have discussed the realities of being a pregnant man, whether they remained pregnant until their child was born, or whether they terminated said pregnancy with an abortion.

It should come as no surprise that the statistics for trans men receiving quality gynecological care are abysmal. It should be equally unsurprising to hear how many trans men have died from botched abortions, untreated miscarriages, infections and cancers of the uterus and cervix and ovaries, and complications during pregnancy or birth. We belong in this space, despite it being labeled "for women", and the only thing pushing us out has done is quite literally what's been killing us.

This is, of course, not even taking into account the numbers of trans men who have been forced to become pregnant via their husbands or families as a means to detransition them, and those who have become pregnant as a result of corrective rape. There is a saying among trans men of my age- it isn't "we all know a guy this has happened to", it's "which of us haven't experienced this? who among us doesn't fear this? who will it happen to next?"

Which brings me to my next point: women's social services. As with women's medical care, nearly everything labeled "for women" as a social service must be inclusive to trans men. Shelters for domestic violence survivors, rape crisis centers, self defense classes, family planning, these are all things that honestly should already be co-ed. But, many times, they are exclusively targeted towards women. I understand why, I do. But with trans men being statistically more likely than cis women to experience the need for these services, it seems a cruelty to close their doors to a vulnerable demographic reaching out for help.

Where should trans men in crisis go? Shutting the door to us without addressing the reason we need to access these resources gives us a single ultimatum: detransition, or die. Go back to being a woman, or die knowing the likelihood that a woman's name will adorn your headstone, and "daughter, wife, mother" will be said in your obituary. Much like the medical services, this incomplete answer has lead many trans men to their deaths. Whether by their own hands, or by their attackers'.

But there are other social services out there that perhaps are not as dire. Women's scholarships, colleges, all girls schools. Girl Scouts, women's sport leagues, gym memberships. Trans men don't need access to these, right?

Well... is the trans man in question out? Has he been living as a man, or is he still closeted? Is it safe for him to come out? Does he pass, or has he just bought his first binder and given himself his first buzz cut? Is he living under the control of his parents, or is he able to freely decide for himself the type of person he'd like to be and the type of life he'd like to live?

You see, I was a Girl Scout once. And, if we are to believe to our core that trans men are men even before they know the words "transgender", this means I was a boy in a girl's space. I didn't know that being transgender was an option for me at the point where my troop disbanded, and another leader to replace the first within my local area was not found until after I had aged out.

But also... I was in 7th grade when my troop disbanded. Two years later, I would learn the word "transgender", and suddenly everything would make sense. Two years later, I would come out to my parents and my sisters. To put this into perspective, I graduated high school in 2010. The Boy Scouts officially allowed cisgender girls and transgender people of all genders to join all programs in 2019.

I was not expelled from my Girl Scout troop. My leader simply stopped showing up to meetings, and my troop disbanded to go our separate ways when leadership could not find someone quickly enough to replace her. But... if this had not happened, I would have been a recently out transgender boy in a girl's social service, still wearing push up bras and frilly shirts because that's all my parents would buy me until I became an adult and moved out and had a job with my own money to re-purchase myself a wardrobe. Indistinguishable from any of the others, outside of what went on inside my own mind.

I would not have been accepted into the Boy Scouts, if Girl Scouts had been taken from me as abruptly as it was from a different transgender boy in the same state I was born and raised. Which would have left me with... nothing. Neither. And the only reason I even joined the Girl Scouts was because I had wanted to join the Boy Scouts and the local troop had refused to allow me, because they had labeled me a girl.

I don't believe I'm the one that coined Schrodinger's Gender, but I do reference it often. In this situation, one is both a boy when it hurts, and a girl when it hurts. Even if that gender label changes by the second, the point is to use your gender and your assigned sex to hurt you.

But then, why do these services even have to be gendered to begin with? After all, Boy Scouts just updated to be The Scouts, and has removed (on paper) the insistence on gendering.

Well... I certainly agree that the majority of gendering these services is at this point a concept that needs to be reformed, but I'm unconvinced that we will be able to completely integrate without addressing the reason they were segregated by gender in the first place.

Women's gym memberships are gender segregated for two reasons. Women and girls- and anyone labeled as women and girls, regardless of true identity- are frequently not afforded the same access to resources as cisgender men and boys. Women and girls- and anyone labeled such- are frequently at high risk of predatory sexual behavior and physical violence. Both of these problems are symptoms of a larger system of misogyny at play, and both of these problems directly affect trans men especially those who have not transitioned in a way that makes them pass for cis men.

Regardless of the truth of my identity, the reality is that I was seen as and treated as a girl when it came to physical fitness, and thus barred from the same activities freely offered to the boys. Regardless of the truth of my identity, I have experienced predatory sexual behavior from cis men as young as 8 or 9 years old, continuing past when I came out and began to transition socially.

If the problem is not addressed, cis women cannot re-integrate with cis men. But, additionally, if the problem is not addressed, the choice still remains clear for trans men. Detransition, stay closeted, or go without.

A common complaint of trans men is the invisibility and erasure our demographic faces. It should be easy to see why this happens. The problem of a misogynistic society is one that continues to this day, and without addressing the problem we cannot hope for success in creating a more inclusive space. At the same time, trans men are being pushed out and isolated as they realize they must make a choice.

As for social gatherings, such as a woman's retreat or a woman's music festival? Of course, it may sound odd to say that a trans man should feel welcome there. But the truth of the matter is the majority of the trans men asking for the ability to stay are trans men who have been within that space for years already, prior to coming out, prior to realizing some things about their genders, prior to taking their first steps as men.

I'm pretty good friends with an older butch who told me that I am the first person they ever told that they were a nonbinary man. This person is in their 50s. They're married. But the wife doesn't like it, and they love their wife too much to cause friction in the relationship, so they keep it to themselves, and they keep quiet, and they don't say anything about being transgender, but in their head they aren't a woman. This person is not a woman, by their own insistence. Should this person be forcibly ejected from their local lesbian community, which they and the wife helped form decades ago? Should they divorce their wife, since that would make her not a lesbian anymore?

What harm is it, truly, to allow this person to stay? Social isolation kills people. The trans man suicide statistics are just as abysmal as any of the others I've mentioned here. Forcing someone to burn 20, 30, 40 years of their lives and their friends and their achievements because they are finally living as themselves is a deeply hurtful and isolating experience.

The majority of trans men asking to be included in these spaces are not trans men like me- who never really jived with the idea of womanhood and distanced ourselves as much as possible the moment we saw the opportunity. They are men like my friend, often existing outside of the binary, often with a deep love and appreciation for womanhood despite realizing that perhaps the label does not fit them as well as they once thought. They often have many years of connection, entire lives spent intwined in these spaces.

What good does it do to chase them out? What harm does it to do let them stay?

[metalmiez]

It's ineffable, my dear

With a content sigh, the demon slung his left arm around the angel. He snaked his head across Aziraphale's right shoulder and nuzzled his nose against his cheek.

"Whatcha doin', angel?" Crowley murmured lazily and pressed a kiss against Aziraphale's temple. He felt the angel lean into the soft touch, humming softly.

"About to put the kettle on for my afternoon tea. Did you have a nice nap, dear?" His warm hand wrapped around Crowley's and tenderly caressed the skin on his wrist.

"Mrm. Would've been nicer if someone had allowed me to sleep around his neck."

Aziraphale chuckled.

"You nearly discorporated me last time, when you turned back into your human shape in your sleep, darling."

Crowley grinned about this particular memory. He wanted to tease his angel more, but his silly thoughts derailed when he felt Aziraphale's right hand reaching out and caressing his hair. The demon hummed appreciatively and leaned his face against the soft fabric of his sky-blue shirt. For Satan's sake, it shouldn't feel so nice to bask in Aziraphale's warmth and tender touch - he was a demon after all.

But on the other hand. He had grown quite comfortable in Aziraphale's presence. Every soft touch, every kiss, every affectionate nickname had burned away a tiny bit of Crowley's millennia-old defense. Truth be told, he really liked the tender affections, and to be soft and vulnerable and gentle. If he ever felt the urge to be demonic, he still had his plants to threaten.

With another sigh, he closed his eyes and leaned closer.

I felt the urge to draw some tooth rotting fluff again, and the urge to grin like an idiot was strong with this one. Hopefully, it gives you the same amount of dopamine as it gave me while drawing it <3

[stunie]

“POST HORROR CUDDLES!”

WINDBREAKER BOYS + COMFORTING YOU. ft. hayato suo, sakura haruka, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader

filled request: “hello hello! may i request bofurin boys and shishtoren boys x scared!reader? reader had been watching too many scary ghost/strange videos and now theyre all shivered up but wont stop watching. what would they do to comfort their sweetheart? please and thank you!!! <333”

sfw / fluff . 1.5K wc. thank u for sending this in :>

HAYATO SUO.

“oh? are you going to follow me everywhere?”

suo's teasing tone doesn’t match the sweet smile he gives you when your hand shyly tugs at the back of his sweater, your frame trailing only about a half step behind his own as you follow him down the hall.

he stops when he’s directly in front of your bathroom, and you suddenly realize that maybe you should have listened to him earlier. your poor tolerance for horror was well known to him— but in your defense, you weren't expecting the stories to be that scary.

there was just no way you could have known.

“..just don't wanna be alone right now,” you mutter, cheeks hot with embarrassment—but you're too scared to care, “and you can fight better than me.”

“i can just wait here if you're fast,” you quickly add, deciding against following him all the way into the bathroom; but rather just wait outside. because if you did, he'd never let you hear the end of it. not that your situation is much different now.

suo hums in agreement.

“you're so cute,” he coos, amusement coloring his voice as he glances back at you. “oh, but be careful.”

he raises a finger to warn you, “a truly skilled serial killer would be able to get to you in the one minute i spend in the bathroom.”

your eyes widen at the information, and he stifles the chuckle that threatens to come out. “oh, but you already knew that, didn't you? don't mind me then.”

the way you gasp and latch onto his arm immediately after he turns to leave is endearing. “wait,” your voice is urgent, “i'm scared now.”

of course you were.

it's only now when you start to realize just how dark your hallway is at nighttime. the purses you have hanging on your doorknobs suddenly look a lot like what a humanoid figure would look like. your eyes dart around you, and a part of you wishes you had never left the comfort of your own bed to follow him here in the first place.

“i was kidding,” his voice cuts through the tension, and he’s smiling in amusement, hand coming to interlace with yours before giving you a reassuring squeeze. “come on, let's go back to bed.”

“you don’t need to pee?” you ask, arms latching around his as you follow his steps closely.

“don’t worry about that.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“stop—don't touch me!”

your hands instinctively fly up to shield your face as the bedroom door swings open with a bang, the doorknob slipping from his grasp and crashing loudly against the wall. there's a grumbled curse that follows, and through the gaps in your fingers, you spot your boyfriend standing frozen in the doorway, utterly bewildered.

“h-huh?”

he's holding a bag of bubble waffles, his other hand trying to balance both boba drinks without dropping them onto the floor. “sorry,” he grumbles, “my hands were full.”

that's right— he did head out earlier to pick up your boba order for you. it was only a few minutes after he left when you started putting on scary stories to pass the time. something you shouldn't have done while you were alone, you realize.

“oh...” you let out a relieved sigh, your shoulders relaxing. “it's just you. you scared me.”

he raises a brow in confusion before his gaze finally shifts to the fortress of pillows around you, cocooning your figure with what looks to be his very own hoodie pulled all the way over your head. your lips tug into a knowing smile when he breaks out into a furious blush at the sight. “perfect timing. you're gonna protect me now, right? baby?” you tease, emphasizing the nickname that never fails to make his cheeks flush.

“f-from what?” he's stammering, making his way towards your bed to set down the snacks onto your nightstand with stiff and awkward movements.

“and why are you calling me…” his eyebrows furrow deeply, “t-that?”

you look cute in his clothes, and you look cuter hidden underneath all those pillows. seeing you like this makes him want to pull you flush against him, hold you close and make you feel protected— but he would never say that aloud. he would absolutely never be able to get the words out if he tried.

there's a choked noise of surprise when you lean over your mattress, arms enveloping his frame in a cheerful embrace.

“what, you don't like being called baby?”

the red deepens into a deep shade of scarlet at the name.

he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to work up the courage and admit that he does like it. he’s liked every single pet name you've ever called him (which was probably all of them by this point). he just hates the way they take away his ability to speak.

his arm extends towards you in one rough motion, the ice in your drink sloshing around as he tears his gaze from you, glaring at your wall instead as he waits for the heat in his ears to die down.

“j-just drink this already.”

TOGAME JO.

you don't understand how your boyfriend is able to lounge so comfortably in complete darkness.

he's seemingly unfazed by the horror unfolding on the screen in front of him. and you, on the other hand, are sitting wide-eyed directly beside him, your heart racing with each scene that plays. you have to remind yourself that the shadows moving around you are just your imagination, and that the eerie creaks in the wooden floors are definitely not because of footsteps.

“togame,” you pull on his sleeve with urgency as soon as you notice eyelids starting to droop, your boyfriend dipping in and out of sleep. “togame.”

“hmm?” he hums out lowly, eyes still shut as his hand rubs circles on your lower back to calm your nerves.

it was something he's always done when the two of you took naps together. he likes to trace up and down your back, drawing little shapes and circles on the skin with his fingertip as he listens to your voice.

“please don't fall asleep,” you plead, “i can't watch this all by myself.”

there's a little grunt that escapes his lips when he stirs, shifting a bit before propping himself up on an elbow to look at you. the movie wasn't scary to him, but clearly that wasn't the case with you, because you're peering up at him through teary lashes, lips jutting out in a pout as you plead with him to stay up.

it makes his heart flutter.

“come here,” he finally says, pulling the bottom of his sweatshirt up for you to crawl underneath. you’re staring at him for only a brief moment before you're immediately slipping underneath the fabric, nestling yourself against his chest and letting his warmth envelope you. a small smile tugs at his lips when he feels you let out a content sigh, hands coming to balance themselves on the strong muscles of his chest.

“better?” he asks, arms coming to lay loosely around your waist.

“mhm,” you sigh, “thank you.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

“here, come here.”

umemiya is gentle when he pulls you onto his lap, hands guiding your thighs to straddle his own as he wraps you up in a suffocating hug, smiling when you return the embrace. “all better?”

you give him a small nod.

“good, because you're stuck with me now,” he grins, strong arms flexing when they tighten their hold around your frame, and he leans back against the wall with a satisfied hum.

“thank you, ume,” you mumble softly, burying your face into his chest. he knows this has always been your favorite way to cuddle with your teddy bear of a boyfriend, and he's the same way. he likes when you latch onto him like a koala, and he likes when you press your ear against his chest to listen to his heartbeat.

he likes having you close like this.

“of course,” his voice comes out as a soothing rumble, and he leans down to press quick kisses to the top of your head before his fingers come to gently massage up and down your neck. “but you know— they aren't real. they won't hurt you.”

you lean into ume a little more, letting out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. “i know... but it's still scary.”

“that's okay,” he chuckles, “that's why i'm here with you.”

his presence helps you relax a bit, finally loosening your grip around his middle as your breathing steadies a bit. “maybe i'll play something else for you,” he suggests, grunting as he reaches over to grab the remote. “you like the dancing fruit?”

you lift your head to meet his eyes, lips spreading into a little smile. “let’s watch the dancing blueberries today.”

a/n: read choji’s part here!

[kekewrites]

LADS Caleb x pervert!reader

Tw: just reader being perverted and gross, reader is going through it, reader being nasty, weird thoughts, horny thoughts, tension

Thinking about a pervert!reader. Being a high schooler and entering a new stage in life where your hormones goes rampant, making you more aware of the opposite gender. It doesn't help how you're currently living with someone so handsome, caring, kind... and so... manly.

Wait- you shouldn't think about your childhood friend like that!

You didn't know when it started. It just happened one morning when you came to the kitchen to eat breakfast, his back seems broader than usual, his tank top showing off his big juicy biceps, and his tall frame-

"Oh, you're awake pipsqueak? Why are you standing there?"

His voice snap you out of your thoughts, shaking your head to rid of them before settling down on the chair. Trying to act normal and totally not conscious of him, you grumble how cold it was in the morning.

Caleb's eyes swept over your form appraisingly, a flicker of something unreadable sparking in their purple depths as they lingered perhaps a moment too long. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, muscled arms crossed over his broad chest, the fabric of his tank top stretching taut against his biceps.

Damn...

Something in your demeanor struck Caleb as... different. A faint blush colored your cheeks, and you seemed to avoid his gaze. He quirked an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Cold, huh? Well, why don't ya come over here and let me warm ya up then, short stack," he teased, reaching out to ruffle your hair affectionately—though his touch lingered perhaps a heartbeat longer than usual. 

Why does his hand feel bigger than usual? Or were they always that big?

Thinking about a pervert!reader. Staring at the toothbrush innocently sitting in the cup along with her own. The blue toothbrush and her pink one beside each other, just like those married couple have. The blue toothbrush that had been inside Caleb's mouth. The blue toothbrush that soaks up his saliva mixing with toothpaste.

Caleb's saliva...

I wonder how it taste like?

Your mind snapped as you stare at the blue toothbrush in your hand, your subconscious already grabbed the toothbrush now currently sitting in your hand.

It wouldn't hurt to try, right?

Nervously gulping, you opened your mouth ready to use his toothbrush not until, the person you're currently crazy about walks in, making you freeze on the spot.

"Hey, did you see where I put my notebook? Huh? Is that my toothbrush?"

Heart pounding, you quickly switch the toothbrushes, your face burning with embarrassment as you turn to face Caleb. You try to keep your voice steady, but it comes out in a panicked squeak.

"N-no, of course not! I mean, I was just… I got confused and grabbed your toothbrush by mistake." You let out a nervous, slightly manic laugh. "You know how much of a ditz I can be in the mornings!"

You turn away, hiding your flushed face from sight as you begin scrubbing your teeth with fervor, hoping Caleb didn't notice the way your hands shook slightly.

He raised an eyebrow, "Ok? So, have you seen my notebook?"

Pausing your toothbrushing to glare at Caleb's reflection in the mirror, you huff in annoyance, "No! I didn't see your stupid notebook."

That was close...

Thinking about a pervert!reader, being extra moody and defensive when you're around him. Totally not because you're starting to see him as a man. Totally not because you're starting to realize how attractive he is.

Starting to feel guilty about imagining some inappropriate thoughts just be staring at him. It would be just a normal hangouts with him, eating popsicle stick with him. Your eyes darting at the way he licks the popsicle, his adam's apple bopping down.

"What's up?"

You froze as you realized Caleb had caught you staring.

"N-no, it's nothing!" you stammered, tearing your gaze away. you could feel the heat rising in your skin.

You fidgeted in your seat, suddenly hyperaware of every little detail—the way his tongue flicked out to catch a drip of melting ice, the flex of his broad shoulders as he raised the treat to his lips once more.

Why is he doing that?!

"It's just... it's cold in here, that's all," you avoided his probing gaze, staring down at the half-eaten popsicle stick in your own hand. You swallowed hard past the lump forming in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Why am I always having those thoughts? I don't wanna be a creep!

Caleb's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied your face, not entirely convinced by your flimsy excuse. The blush staining your cheeks and the way you couldn't quite meet his gaze spoke volumes.

Thinking about a self-aware!caleb, who knows the effect he has on you. His hidden smirk every time he knows what you're thinking about.

Caleb sits across from you, his expression unreadable, eyes shadowed by something you can’t quite place. You tell yourself it’s just your imagination, that the way his gaze lingers is nothing more than coincidence. That the way he angles his body ever so slightly toward you isn’t deliberate.

You shift in your seat, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. It’s ridiculous, really, how easily he manages to throw you off balance. The way his voice lingers in your mind even after the conversation has ended. The way his presence alone feels like an invisible tether, pulling your attention back to him no matter how hard you try to resist.

But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything.

Just sits there. Watching.

You convince yourself he doesn’t notice the way your eyes flicker to his lips when he speaks, the way you fidget under his gaze. You tell yourself he isn’t aware of how your pulse betrays you when he leans in just a fraction too close.

But then, just for a split second, there it is. A barely, there shift in his expression, a flicker of amusement, gone before you can catch it.

You don’t notice the smirk he hides behind his next words. You don’t realize that every stolen glance, every shaky breath, every fleeting moment of hesitation and he’s seen it all. And worse?

He knows exactly what it means.

And he's enjoying it.

[its-avalon-08]

say something, say anything (ln4)

summary -> lando and y/n got into a massive agrguement and he yelled at her. she leaves to get some space and he is left to pick up the pieces.

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort

The air crackled with tension in Lando's sleek apartment. Dinner plates remained untouched, the remnants of a playful afternoon at the Monaco harbor replaced by a suffocating silence. Y/N, her back ramrod straight, finally broke it.

"I can't believe you said that to Daniel," she said, voice tight.

Lando scoffed, pushing back from the table. "Come on, Y/N, it was just a joke."

"A pretty cutting one, aimed at someone who's actually struggling this season," she countered. "And in front of everyone, no less."

"He should be able to take a jab," Lando mumbled, his playful demeanor replaced by a defensive scowl.

"That's not the point! It's not funny to poke fun at someone's performance, especially a teammate."

"Oh, come on," Lando's voice rose a notch. "Don't pretend you haven't laughed at some of Ricciardo's antics yourself."

"That's different! It's all light-hearted banter, not publicly belittling someone on a bad day."

Lando slammed his fist on the table, the sudden noise making Y/N flinch. "Look, will you just fucking drop it? It's not a big of a goddamn deal."

The anger in his voice caught Y/N off guard. Tears welled up in her eyes. "That's not how you talk to me, Lando."

His expression softened a fraction. "Y/N, I—"

"No," she cut him off, wiping at her eyes. "This is fucking childish. I'm going for a walk."

She grabbed her purse and stormed out, leaving Lando staring after her, a knot of guilt tightening in his stomach. He waited for a beat, then pulled out his phone, his heart hammering in his chest as he dialed your number.

One ring. Two rings. Voicemail.

Frustration bubbled up. He tried again, the same result. He slammed his phone down on the table, his anger returning.

He fumed for a while, then finally dialed again. This time, you picked up.

"Y/N," he started, relief flooding his voice.

"What, Lando?" Your voice was cool, devoid of its usual warmth.

"Look, I'm sorry about earlier," he said, forcing a lightness he didn't feel. "It was a stupid joke, and I shouldn't have said it."

"An apology would've been nice back at the apartment, before I had to practically walk out," you countered.

"Yeah, well, you could've just talked to me instead of storming off like a—"

He stopped himself, realizing where that was going. There was a heavy silence.

"Don't call me immature, Lando," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

"It's kind of immature to walk out on a conversation just because you're upset," he retorted, defensiveness creeping back in.

"Oh, so now it's my fault for being upset by your lack of empathy?"

"I have empathy, Y/N! But I also know how to laugh things off sometimes. You need to lighten up geez."

The line went dead. Lando stared at the phone, his frustration morphing into something close to despair. He'd messed up, royally. He knew you weren't the type to throw a tantrum, but walking out after he yelled? That was bad. Really bad.

He sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. He needed to fix this, but how? Maybe some flowers, your favorite chocolates… but that felt like a band-aid on a gaping wound. He needed to do better. He just hoped you'd give him the chance.

a little later

Y/N wandered the park, tears drying on her cheeks, leaving a trail of saltiness. Her phone buzzed incessantly with Lando's calls, but she kept it silenced. She just needed some space to process the anger and hurt. As she rounded a corner, she bumped into a familiar figure.

"Oh, Y/N! Hey!" boomed Daniel's voice, his usual infectious energy dimmed. Heidi, his girlfriend, greeted her with a warm smile.

Y/N felt a fresh wave of guilt. "Hey, guys," she managed, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. The puffiness around her eyes must've been a dead giveaway.

"Everything alright?" Daniel asked, his brow furrowing with concern. "You look like you've been crying."

Y/N quickly blinked away any threatening tears. "Oh, no, it's just allergies. Hay fever's a nightmare this time of year." It was a lame excuse, and they both knew it.

Heidi, perceptive soul she was, placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Are you sure? You can tell us if something's wrong."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, the urge to confide in them strong. But Lando's immaturity and the sting of his words still felt raw. "Honestly, it's nothing a good night's sleep won't fix. Thanks for your concern, though. It means a lot."

Before they could press further, Y/N shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, there's something I wanted to say." She turned to Daniel, her voice sincere. "I'm so sorry about Lando's comment earlier. It was completely out of line, and I know you're working incredibly hard."

Daniel gave her a sad smile. "No worries, Y/N. I appreciate you sticking up for me." He patted her hand lightly. "Just tell Lando to ease up on the… team spirit, shall we say?"

Y/N gave a weak laugh, unable to meet his eyes fully. "I'll try."

With a forced farewell, she turned and walked away, leaving Daniel and Heidi to exchange a worried glance.

Daniel, phone pressed to his ear, marched purposefully towards his car. "Lando? Speak to me."

There was a nervous pause on the other end. "Hey, mate," Lando said, his voice strained.

"Don't 'hey, mate' me," Daniel cut him off, his voice low and firm. "What happened with Y/N?"

Lando flinched at the sharpness in Daniel's tone. He mumbled a vague explanation, trying to downplay the situation. Daniel, however, wasn't having it.

"Listen, Lando," Daniel interrupted, his voice heavy with disappointment. "I know things haven't been going great for me this season. But that doesn't give you the right to take a jab at my performance, especially in front of everyone. You know better than that."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "And from the way Y/N sounded, it seems things escalated beyond a 'joke'. You know she cares about you, right?"

Lando mumbled incoherently, a knot of shame tightening in his stomach. Daniel didn't need to hear his answer.

"Just… sort it out," Daniel said with a sigh. "And for goodness sake, apologize properly. She deserves it."

The line went dead, leaving Lando staring at his phone, the weight of his actions hitting him hard. He'd hurt Y/N, embarrassed Daniel, and created unnecessary tension within the team. Now, he had to fix it, but where to even begin?

Panic gnawed at Lando's insides. He'd called Y/N a dozen times, each unanswered ring echoing his growing fear. He couldn't believe he'd let things escalate so far. To make matters worse, her phone's location service was disabled, adding another layer of frustration.

He knew her usual haunts, the park being a top contender. Throwing on a cap and sunglasses, he jumped into his car, speeding through the city streets. Every corner looked the same, his heart pounding with a frantic rhythm. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spotted a familiar figure on a park bench, a discarded coffee cup beside her.

He parked haphazardly and sprinted across the grass, his chest heaving. Y/N, her back turned, didn't even turn her head when she heard his approach.

"Y/N," he said, voice ragged. "Hey, please listen to—"

She remained stubbornly silent, staring intently at a group of pigeons strutting across the grass. Lando felt defeated, his shoulders slumping. "Look, I know I messed up. Big time."

Still no response. He felt like a fool, rambling on to a brick wall.

"What I said to Daniel, it was stupid and insensitive. And then yelling at you… that was just… I don't even know what I was thinking. You didn't deserve that."

He took a deep breath, finally registering the hurt on her face, even from behind. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. Can you please forgive me?"

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Just as Lando felt all hope drain away, Y/N finally spoke. "You know what, Lando? You hurt me. A lot."

Her voice, though quiet, held an unexpected edge of strength. It was a wake-up call, and Lando felt a surge of gratitude that she hadn't shut him out completely.

"I know," he confessed, his voice thick with remorse. "I feel terrible about it. Please, just talk to me."

A long, agonizing silence followed. Finally, Y/N sighed, a flicker of something softer returning to her eyes. "Alright," she said, finally facing him. "But you better be sincere, Lando Norris."

Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. He knelt before her, taking her hand in his. "More sincere than you can imagine. I value you, Y/N. You're… everything to me."

His voice cracked slightly, and he saw a flicker of empathy cross her face. "Just… don't take that for granted, okay?"

He squeezed her hand, his heart overflowing. "Never. Never again. Can you forgive me?"

She looked at him for a long moment, her gaze searching his. Slowly, a hint of a smile played on her lips. "Fine," she conceded, a playful glint returning to her eyes. "But on one condition."

Lando grinned, hope blooming in his chest. "Anything."

"No more insensitive jokes about teammates, especially when you know they're struggling. And no more yelling when we fight."

He chuckled, relief turning into pure joy. "Deal. In fact, I'll bake Daniel a giant apology cake. How does that sound?"

Y/N laughed, a beautiful sound that chased away the last remnants of tension. "Sounds like a plan."

He stood up, pulling her into a tight embrace. The scent of her perfume filled his senses, a comforting balm to his soul. As they held each other, the anger and hurt melted away, replaced by a deep sense of love and understanding.

He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against hers. The kiss was hesitant at first, filled with unspoken apologies and renewed devotion. As they deepened the kiss, a sense of peace settled over them.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, Y/N snuggled closer, resting her head on his shoulder. With his arm wrapped around her, they sat in comfortable silence, the warmth of the afternoon sun basking them in its glow. They had a long way to go, but for now, they were together, and that was all that mattered.

[screwitbaby]

naive

hamzahthefantastic x reader (fic)

day 1/7

[part 2]

summary: a short story about the boys’ trip to curaçao. hamzah’s oblivious with girls and you’re not one to turn down a challenge.

contains: SFW content

wc: 1.8k-ish

~

The first thing that crossed your mind when you met him was that he was hot. Way too hot. Like, he must have the worst personality (and/or stroke game) behind closed doors to still be single. He truly is an enigma.

A pair of pale legs comes between your view of a shirtless Hamzah walking out of the water like he's in a sexy cologne commercial and blocks you from staring at him any longer. You whine and look up to see Martin with his arms crossed over his pasty chest.

"Enjoying the view?" he asks sarcastically. He sits on the beach chair next to yours.

"I was," you say, pulling your sunglasses off your face and placing them atop your head. "Then you had to go and ruin it."

"I think I made it better, actually,” he says. He lays on his side with his hand on his popped hip. You nearly gag.

"Jumpscare warning next time, please?"

"Ha-ha." He flips to lay on his back. "So go to talk to him."

"Hell no," you say. "He needs to come to me."

"You're delusional." Martin shakes his head. "And Hamzah's oblivious. He friendzones every girl he's interested in. It's really painful to watch, honestly."

"This is your best friend you're talking about," you remind Martin. "Shouldn't you at least talk him up to me a bit?"

"I'm not a good liar," he sighs. "But I know one thing."

"And that is?"

"He likes you."

Your head whips in his direction. "Don't mess with me."

"I'm not!" He squeals. "Seriously, he's bad at showing it, but I know him. He gets a certain way around girls he likes."

"You better not be bullshitting me," you point at him. "Because I will be taking that and sprinting with it."

"Mhm, go for it." Martin puts his arms behind his head, acting suave. "I'm good with this type of stuff. It's a heavy gift to bare."

"Didn't Mandy have to make the first move with you?"

"She told you about that?" He sulks. "I told her not to..."

"Bros before hoes." You throw your hands up defensively.

Deciding you've had enough of this rascal, you throw your lacy cover up over your bikini and walk down the beach to meet the object of your desire halfway.

"Hey," you greet, digging your toes in the sand.

"Oh, hey," he replies. You catch a glimpse of him looking at your legs from over his shoulder. "Welcome to my humble abode."

You eye the limp sand castle he's building with one of the empty margarita cups you guys ordered a round of earlier.

"Looks structurally sound," you joke, plopping down next to him.

"It's a work in progress," he defends himself. "Here is the start of the moat, and here's the tower I'ma save a damsel in distress from.”

"And who's the damsel in distress?"

"I don't know," he says, turning to make eye contact with you. "She'll make herself known sooner or later."

You raise your eyebrow and wonder if there's some deeper meaning that you're supposed to decode beneath his expression. Then, you remember Martin's words and shake the thought from your head.

The two of you work on improving his architectural masterpiece. It proves to be a difficult task considering the fact that the ocean waves keep knocking the castle walls down. Perhaps the location should've been reviewed before you sunk so much time into perfecting it. All you know is that every time he leans over to fix something on your side and your thighs make contact, your stomach flutters.

The Curaçao sun sets and you guys pack up your belongings, stopping by the bar to grab one last mixed drink before heading back to the hotel. Martin attempts to carry Mandy bridal style and trips, sending them straight into a bed of flowers. He says it was because of his flip flops in an attempt to cover up how much of a lightweight he is when it comes to alcohol.

With rosy cheeks and tired limbs, you say your goodbyes to the couple at their suite and make your way back to your room. Hamzah offers to walk with you so you're not alone in the dark and you accept his gracious offer because his shirt is tossed over his bare shoulder, long forgotten. Oh, and your safety, of course.

"My feet are killing me," he groans. "I stepped on, like, a billion seashells."

This triggers a "sally sold seashells by the sea shore"-off between the two of you, keeping you entertained while you clumsily make your way up the stairs of the hotel. You may or may not have been swaying your hips a little extra when you were ahead of him.

Hamzah insists on walking you to your room even though his is a floor lower. When you make it to your door together, you say goodnight and enter the air-conditioned room with a sigh.

You immediately strip and step under the shower head, washing the sand and sunscreen off of your body and massaging your sore extremities. You'd gone sight seeing with the whole gang for the past three days and it took a toll on your body. Despite that, you were the happiest you'd been in a long while. It was a good kind of exhausted. Content.

When you step out of the shower and into a complementary robe, you hear a sudden knock on your door. You frown because you were certain you had placed the do-not-disturb sign on the handle. You put slippers on and shuffle over to open it.

"Hey, again," he sighs.

Your eyes widen, "Hamzah. What's wrong?"

"I lost my card for my room," he explains as you let him in. "And my ID's inside, so I couldn't even prove that it's my room to the front desk."

"Shit," is all you can say. "What do we do?"

"I tried calling Martin ‘cause the bookings are in his name, but he didn't pick up. I think they knocked out already."

He sits on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. "And I'm still fucking tipsy."

This makes you laugh, even though you know you should be sympathetic towards the poor guy. He lifts his head to look at you and smiles.

"I'm glad you think this is funny," he says, leaning back on his elbows. "Because in case you hadn't already pieced it together, that means I gotta sleep in here."

Your heart skips a beat and the laughter fades from your throat. "But there's only one bed."

He furrows his brows in thought. "I can sleep at the foot of the bed."

"No, you freak, you're not a dog," you say, sitting beside him. "Y'know what? We'll just share."

"Is that okay with you?" he questions. "I don't wanna, like, overstep..."

"What other choice do we have? And I'm certainly not letting you sleep on the floor."

"I guess you're right."

You both sit still for a moment, eyes on everything except each other. It's cliche, really, but you couldn't let him wake up with a crook in his neck or something. Then the next day of activities would be sullied. At least, that's what you tell yourself.

"So.... can I use your shower?"

"Yeah, go ahead," you say. "But, um, do you want to borrow some clothes, or?"

"I doubt your clothes would fit me." He snorts. "I'll go buy something from the gift shop."

"I think I packed a pair of comfy sleeping shorts if you want to try?"

He shrugs, so you walk over to your luggage and search for the shorts. You find them bunched up underneath one of your dresses and cover your mouth with your palm. It was a good thing they were stretchy because they definitely were not going to be his size.

You hand them to him and he holds them up to inspect them. Then he looks at you with squinted eyes.

"Thanks." He retreats to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You take a deep breath and decide to go watch some TV.

Once you hear the water turn off, you cross your legs nervously. The door cracks open.

"This is crazy," Hamzah shouts. "They fit!"

He steps out fully and your breath hitches. He stands there, water still dripping from his curls and onto his chest, only in your tight shorts that barely reach the tops of his thick thighs. It was like a replay of the beach, but better. You cross your legs tighter and try to avoid staring for too long.

"Yay."

He dries his hair with the towel and asks if there's a spare toothbrush. You point to the drawer below the sink and avert your gaze when he bends over to grab it. He finishes up and walks over to the bed.

"The shower floor is destroyed. I think I had 3 pounds of sand in between my ass cheeks."

You burst out laughing and so does he, climbing under the sheets. "Me too, honestly."

You sit up against the headboard, watching some random Dutch family show that was on. You don't understand much, but your phone is charging so you have no choice but to tune in. Hamzah pretends he knows what's going on and creates a riveting plot for the characters that is infinitely funnier than whatever they were actually doing. At some point, the both of you start yawning. You decide it's probably best that you sleep, even though every part of you would love to stay up all night and listen to him ramble on.

You grab some pajamas from your suitcase and turn to him.

"Could you...?" You gesture for him to turn around.

"Oh, yeah, course." He lays on his side facing the wall.

You quickly throw on an oversized tee and shorts, wincing when the bands of your underwear smack loudly against your skin.

When you're fully situated in bed next to him, you turn the TV off and nestle into the sheets. You stay on your side and he lays on his back. All there is to hear is the sound of your breaths and the crash of the waves from the open window.

"Today was fun." He yawns, running his palms over his sun-kissed face. "I wish we could stay here forever, just doing stupid tourist-y shit and hanging around the beach."

"I know," you agree. "I'm glad I got to come on this trip with you guys. I really needed it."

Your chin is tucked under the blanket. He blinks slowly and even in the darkness, you see his big brown eyes find yours.

"Well, I'm glad you came, too." You don't know if it's just the amount of drinks consumed between the two of you, but you swear you see his eyes on your lips. "I like spending time with you."

You don't know what to say, so you say nothing at all. He turns onto his side after one final "goodnight" and the two of you fall asleep in the glow of the moonlight.

~

a/n: did i have to include the one bed hotel room cliche? no. did i anyway? i’m just a girl… lmk if u liked it or if u hate my guts and want to curse my bloodline !!!

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

56 / 1.2k / medic reader + Ghost + coworkers with benefits

kinktober keywords: subtextual authority kink, workplace smut, rivals to rivals who fuck, coworkers with benefits?, voyeurism (mentioned), actual smut in part 2

...

You watch your would-be beau walk away, shoulder knocking against Simon’s as he goes.

Simon, for his part, doesn’t even bother casting the man a sideways glance. His frosty glare is reserved for you. "This is a military base. I don't think I need to repeat myself when I say that this isn't exactly the place to bring men back to your room."

"I'm familiar with the concept.” You make your tone as chilly as his. “I fail to see how what I do is any of your business." Behind him, you see someone else poke their head out of an open doorway and look around. There’s no way she misses the Ghost standing inside your room, staring you down. You hurry to close the door behind Simon.

"Who was he?"

"A friend from another regiment."

"Yeah? Really? A little late for a friend to be visiting, isn't it?"

"We had dinner. It ran late. I offered tea."

"Right," he drawls. "And all he wanted in return was a good cup of tea? Nothing else? You didn’t cozy up together?"

You cross your arms, saying nothing.

His mouth tightens. "You didn't."

"No. How could we when you barge in uninvited? As if what I do is any of your business.”

"It is my business when I spend my nights on the other side of this wall."

"That's not my problem, Simon."

He resists the urge to use his lieutenant voice. Or hit something. Medic or not, he won’t have you brushing him off. "It is your problem," he snaps, stepping up to stand squarely in front of you. "Don't talk back to me."

You say nothing, but don't back down. Instead, you glare up into his eyes and concede nothing. He’s not your boss and you don’t answer directly to him, but fuck if he’s ever tolerated your sass. Or you his strictness. You’ve never managed to be normal about each other.

He lets out a heavy breath, though it does little to calm him. "I shouldn't be hearing you with other men late at night. Do you get that?"

"Then don't listen."

You can feel his patience wearing thin. "It's kind of hard to," he says through his teeth, "when I can hear every damned sound you make."

Your eyes narrow. Does he mean…

"Everything," he says. You blush from your cheeks to your toes. "And I've been hearing it for a while, medic."

You cross your arms tighter, embarrassment bubbling up in your gut. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you could hear so much. That must be... annoying." you turn away and rub the back of your neck sheepishly. "I haven't really been with anyone since my last— well, the last year or so. I've been frustrated. But that's no excuse for disturbing others."

The sudden lapse in your defensive attitude seems to catch him off guard. He softens his tone, though his glare is still locked on you, stern as ever. "You haven’t been with Soap, then?”

Soap? That’s weirdly specific. You shake your head. "No. Look, don't worry about it. It's a personal matter. I won't bother you again."

There's a moment of silence.

"Look at me, medic."

You turn to him, your back stiff and your face as impassive as you can manage despite the sheer embarrassment coursing through you. "I'll keep it down, Simon."

His lips twitch. "The sound isn't what bothers me. What bothers me," he says, narrowing his eyes and leaning closer, "is that you want company."

"I know. I know. Relationships are off-limits."

He continues to watch you with what you’d swear is the beginning of a smirk. "You never told me that you missed being touched.”

A new flush heats your face immediately. God, the mortification.

"Frankly, I would rather die than admit that to anyone. Let alone my lieutenant."

He studies your reaction for a moment. Then he speaks again, his voice lower. "I'm happy you're comfortable enough to admit it to me," he says. "You're right. I am your lieutenant. I need to know what ails you because it's my job to take care of you. You can rely on me. For anything."

You look up at him again. You think you hear the implication in his words, but surely he's not saying what you think he's saying. Not Simon. Not Ghost.

He takes in your bewildered expression before letting out another heavy breath. When you still don't say anything, he takes a step back.

"Medic..." His tone of voice grows softer. "I'm offering you comfort. If you’d like it."

The longer you stare at him, the more the truth sinks in. He's really offering to get you off. To relieve tension. Ostensibly. Simon, of all people.

You look away. "That's against the rules, isn't it?"

He can't help the smirk this time, though his tone remains warm. "Relationships are against the rules, yes. But this isn't a relationship. This is an arrangement to alleviate tension. Nothing more."

The usual generic protests and reassurances die in your throat when Simon rolls his sleeves up, peeling his gloves off. You’ve never seen his bare hands before.

He chuckles at your expression. Then he reaches back and locks the door.

Your heartbeat accelerates. Your eyes travel up his muscled forearms to see him looking at you with deliberation, like you're the object of his next mission. But the anticipation in his eyes isn’t so clinical.

"Sit down."

Anticipation floods your nerves. Seemingly of their own accord, the back of your knees hit the edge of your bed. You sit.

His eyes never leave yours as he approaches. The room gets warmer with every step he takes, sizing you up. When he reaches you, he stops just before his leg can brush the insides of your knees.

"May I?"

Your fingertips tingle. You want to say yes. You didn't know how much you’d want to say yes until right now. But...

You shift, pressing your thighs together, fighting the urge to ring your hands. "I'm not an easy or particularly fun woman to please, Simon." You glance up at him, trying not to look pained. You’re not trying to challenge him. You’re just trying to let him down easy and give him an out. You’re trying to tell him he doesn't want to do this; it’s too much effort. After all, you yourself have been trying to give yourself an orgasm for months without real success.

Still, your warning doesn’t seem to deter him. "Then I'll put in the time and the work," he says. "I need your permission. Yes or no. Do you trust me to take care of you?"

You swallow, your heart skipping. You want that very much. You honestly wonder if he can feel the selfish want rolling off of you in waves. But do you trust him with this kind of vulnerability?

It's not much of a question.

You look him in the eye, your voice even. The tension between you tilts. "Yes. I do."

"Good." He takes another step forward. The air thickens with your proximity. His boots nudge your bare feet. "Lay back. Let me do my job."

...

[part 1] / part 2

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[bbystark]

♡ simon is a bad stalker part 3 ♡

badstalker!simon x reader series - pt one two

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: you take the risk and meet up with your stalker. briefly features soap. mdni

a/n: i'm so sorry this took so long to get out! and thank you to everyone who requested a part 3, you guys keep me motivated. got bit by the productivity bug so expect more fics soon. :) ( @identity2212 )

you're still reeling days after your talk with your stalker. ghost, you think to yourself. a fake name or nickname, no doubt, but at least you have something to call him. a name to put to the silhouette.

he hasn't reached out since the video call, but you know he's most likely still around, whether he's making it known or not.

you're miffed, and starting to think the man has avoidance issues. it's probably one of the tamer things wrong with him.

then one night you're on your porch, lounging with a cup of tea, minding your own business when a black suv rolls up, much like the one that had picked you up the night you were stranded.

you stand when a man steps out of the car, mohawk emphasizing the height and overall largeness of him.

you watch him warily; he walks up to the fence and rests his palms on the edge. you half expect him to open the gate and waltz right up, confidence oozing from him.

but he stays there, giving you a small smile. "you still wanna meet 'im lass?"

of course it was one of his people. you numbly wondered how he knew the biggest men you've ever seen in your life. you know ghost can't be small himself, you'd put that much together seeing how his shoulders were almost bulked out of frame on the video call.

"you're with him?" you hesitate a little, clutching your mug closer to your chest, "with ghost?" he nods.

you're silent, and he lets you be. lord knows he's not planning on taking you kicking and screaming, sure you were a pretty little thing but he about backhanded simon when he found out about you. of course the big idiot was "accidentally" stalking a much too curious woman. he really knew how to pick 'em.

you weigh your options. you know the man is here to take you to ghost, you could infer that much. it's a dumb idea to go, but it was a dumb time last time and it turned out fine. you could tell him to fuck off, send him on his way. he'd probably listen.

you're not ready to admit to yourself that you'd grown use to ghost's presence, and that part of you would miss it if one day he decided to wise up and leave you alone.

you make a decision before you can really realize it. "can I grab my purse?"

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

he opens the door of the car for you, and it makes your head spin, you're about to meet your stalker and here you are being treated with the utmost respect. it made no sense. you clutch to your keys, fingers seeking out the self-defense items in the pockets of your purse, trying to ease your anxiety.

he hasn't hurt you yet, not really. you remind yourself. violated an insane number of boundaries, yes, but if anything, you're the safest you've ever been. you even take walks at night now, knowing deep down he's somewhere close keeping you safe from everything. everything but him.

your lost in thought as soap watches you from the rearview. he's starting to see why ghost was so fond of you, you're brave and a little naive. like a kitten against a pitbull. headstrong no doubt, probably a downright brat at times. the thought stirs something in him, and he briefly wonders if simon would be up to sharing one day.

he parks the car and you realize in your anxious thoughts you didn't pay any attention to where you were going, too overwhelmed. and you were already here. your entire body flashes cold, sweat prickling the back of your neck. you cannot fucking believe what you had gotten yourself into.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

ghost had been pacing for the past 20 minutes, fighting the urge to tuck tail and run. he shouldn't be nervous, he was grown man with hundreds of kills under his belt, he shouldn't be shaken at the prospect of meeting some girl.

but you weren't some girl, you were his woman, he was sure of it. something deep in his bones and at the forefront of his brain just knew.

he goes still when he recognizes the sound of the suv rolling down the driveway. he had chosen some random abandoned building, not ready to let you into his own apartment in case things went wrong.

he forcefully exhales, pulling his mask down and taking a deep breath in. it was now or never.

you step out of the car shakily. an abandoned property. nothing serial killer about that. your heart drums in your ears as you follow soap up the steps, avoiding the jagged pieces of wood that stuck up in every which way.

he gets to the door, glancing back at you, offering you one more out. you meet his gaze and hold it, and he figures that's answer enough. he pushes the door open, stepping to the side to let you in.

your first steps inside you don't see him, eyes adjusting to the low light. and then you see a figure in the corner, still as a statue. he's fucking huge, is the only thought that pushes through the panic rising in your chest. you didn't know when you had started shaking. you can see his eyes, carefully watching you.

soap awkwardly clears his throat after almost a minute long staring competition between you and ghost. a kitten and a pitbull indeed. it almost makes him smirk. "right then, i'll be in the car." he promptly shuts the door, wood scraping against wood making you wince.

ghost speaks first, finding himself almost wheezing the words out. "'ello luv." you just stare at him. you seem shellshocked, almost as still as he is, save your chest rapidly rising and falling. he cautiously crosses the room, not wanting to spook you. not when he was this close.

he's standing right in front of you, and your neck aches as you peer up at him. you still can't find the words. something primal in you screaming to run, hide, punch kick, anything. you shake even harder. simon raises his hands to your cheek, effectively smooshing your face between them. its clumsy and he's borderline using too much pressure, but it's grounding for some reason. "breathe." it's said like an order.

you take a deep breath. "this is fucking insane. you're fucking insane." he lets out a puff of air. "i know. i could say the same about you, showin' up 'ere." you give him a look. "i guess you got me there." you catch yourself blinking when you realize he has long, blonde lashes and blue eyes.

he's staring back, eyes roaming your features. it's the first time he's touched you while you were awake, first time he's been able to see your eyes up close. he finds warmth spreading through him, and it's almost too much. he drops his hands and takes a step back, instinctively crossing his arms.

you hate that you miss the heaviness of his hands on your face, and blame the warmness in your cheeks on lingering warmth from his gloved hands.

"i don't know what to say." you really don't. you had a million questions, practiced how you would chew him out and interrogate him. it's all lost now. he shifts on his feet a little. "i feel responsible for you.'" he blurts.

you stay silent, hoping he elaborates. after a few moments he does. "there's not many good people left in the world. i've seen the worst of 'em, downright evil 'n selfish." you can see his jaw clench through the mask. "you're not like 'em. you're kind, pure. go out of your way to be a good person. only right i show you what it's like to be taken care of fer once."

you stare at him, and you know he's telling you the truth. this truly was his fucked-up way of courting you. you scoff a little, not able to contain yourself. "you know there are other ways to be in someone's life, right? without breaking dozens of laws in the process?" he shrugs.

you swallow the lump in your throat, widening your stance subconsciously. simon finds it adorable. "you can't keep doing this. it's wrong." you hate that your voice is shaking and hate even more that the words feel wrong as soon as they come out.

his eyes darken, and he's on you before you can blink. one of his hands is on the nape of your neck, applying slight pressure, scruffing you like a cat. he brings his mask covered lips to your ear.

"you're mine, you hear that? i'm here to help you, to make sure you don't ever have to struggle again. you have my word i'll never hurt you, but you gotta understand that i'll do everything to stay close to you until my dying breath. i'm 'ere to stay luv."

your mind is reeling at the low growl in his voice, dangerous and way too attractive given the situation. he could wrap his hands around your neck easily, choke you until the vessels in your eyes pop and your lungs ignite. but he doesn't, he's just demonstrating the pure control he has over the situation. he's telling you that he cares for you, keep you safe, but that it's at the price of being at his mercy. part of you doesn't mind the idea. you've been at his mercy for almost 6 months anyway, you really only had the illusion of control. would it be that bad to submit to him?

you're sick, you have to be. but can anyone blame you? in almost all your relationships, romantic or not, you were the caregiver. constantly bending over backwards and people pleasing until your heart ached. give give give. it was the story of your life. and here he was, offering you to take for once, only asking you to be receptive in return. it's so fucking tempting.

"take me on a date first at least." you say airily, afraid he can hear your heart thumping against your rib cage.

he leans away from you slightly, looking into your eyes. he keeps his hand tangled in your hair, fingers twitching when he sees the silent challenge in them mixed with a healthy speck of fear. he wants to throw his head back and groan. this was guarded acceptance of the circumstances he had put you in, the last thing he thought he would get from you.

"alright." you blink at him. "what?"

"i said alright luv. we'll go onna date."

you can't believe your ears. nervousness scratches at your chest, you almost regret your offer. maybe leaving him in the shadows would've been for the best, you had no idea what gate you had opened by showing up here in the first place. your mouth is agape, only capable of staring incredulously at him. he takes a step back, two fingers gripping your chin and closing your mouth. "you'll catch flies."

you glare at his little jab. he rubs a finger over your bottom lip, eyes lingering there for a second. "i'll giv' you more answers then too. promise."

"okay." you say timidly. you're at a loss for words. you suppose there's not much to say.

"soap'll take you 'ome. i'll let you be for the night, gather your thoughts." he puts a gentle hand on your back, guiding you to the door. you shiver at how well he read you. he must know you well. you know almost nothing of him.

he opens the door, sending a nod to soap as he starts the car up. your back is to ghost, feeling dazed and stupid. so so stupid. ghost leans down once more, hand sliding to rest on your lower back. whispering. "we'll talk soon. get 'ome safe."

when you don't move, he has the audacity to give your ass a little tap to get you going. and you have the audacity to almost like it.

[bratbarzal]

A VALENTINES BLURB EVENT? You’re too kind.

what about “wow, you really don’t have anyone special in your life at the minute.” with ex!fwb Jack Hughes?

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

3. “wow, you really don’t have anyone special in your life at the minute.” the maggie cinematic universe really is expanding!!! a jack blurb!!! hey look at us!! who'd have guessed it?? not me!! it's a smidge angsty, because all the fluff was giving me a complex. it's not who I am. I can barely look in the mirror any more. also you said the word ex!!!!!!!! I have no choice but to create problems!!!!!! also again, changed the phrasing bc I was struggling with it exactly as is but the sentiment is there ♥️

*mentions of vomiting

Jack knew to keep a close eye on you the second that he saw you down that first drink - plastering yourself to the other side of the room, avoiding him like the plague, as you so often do these days, but somehow he can't look away.

He tries not to be too obvious about it, knows that you'd have a problem with him showing any signs of interest or concern anymore, but he knows how these nights go when you're like this. So he watches over the rim of his cup, spares fleeting glances in your general direction, and pretends he's looking at something else nearby to avoid detection.

But he gives up the act when you're too far gone - stumbling to the nearest bathroom with your hand clasped over your mouth after dancing around with the girls and getting a little lightheaded.

He can hear the retching from the other side of the door, thankful that it isn't locked when he twists the handle - closes it softly behind him and secures the two of you inside so no one else can see you in such a vulnerable state.

You groan, probably having seen him from the corner of your eye, and press your forehead to your forearm, the clamminess of your skin evident even from over where he's stood.

"Don't come any closer," you warn him, holding out your other hand in a stopping motion without even looking his way, "I feel sick enough without my senses being flooded with Creed."

He ignores the warning, a heavy sigh and hard roll of his eyes his only response as he rolls up his sleeves and makes his way over, making a move to hold back your hair before you're shoving at his thighs in defiance. "I'm trying to help you," he snaps, voice low as he fights your objections.

"Don't want your help," you snap back, "Want you to go get someone else."

“You really think I’d just leave you here?” He jiggles your touch from his thigh, despite the way he likes how your hand lingers lightly as another wave of nausea washes over you. "C'mon, straighten up a little."

You whine as he guides your body, his touch gentle as he manoeuvres you slowly to avoid making you sick again. "Jack," you groan, "Stop."

"'M'not gonna leave you," he huffs, avoiding the blind swat of your hand as you reach back again to push, swerving around the stretch of your arm and throwing himself onto the floor on the other side of the toilet. "You shouldn't be on your own, not like this."

"You had no problem leaving me before," you grumble, your face wincing as you try to breathe through queasiness, straightening up now that he isn't the one telling you to and sitting back on your heels.

"You really wanna do this with your head half in the toilet?" he quirks a brow, leaning against the sink and settling in - his body language a certain show that he isn't going anywhere any time soon. "6 months you've barely spoken to me, and you want to bring it all up now?"

"You're the one who followed me in here," you scowl, "You're the one who's been stalking me all night. Why are you even here, shouldn't you be out with whatever new girl you're fucking? It's Valentines Day, that's your schtick right, making them think you're invested before you pull the rug-,"

"You're talking a lot for someone who was throwing their guts up 2 minutes ago," he cuts you off, face curling defensively as your eyes meet his in a heated glare. "There is no new girl, so you can stop your little speech before you say something you regret."

"I don't have regrets." You snort, your arms shaking as you push yourself up a little.

"The circumstances we're currently under would suggest otherwise." He nods toward the toilet, eyes flickering carefully over you as your brows furrow - looking for any further signs of distress. Your skin has brightened up a little, tears crusted in the corner of your eyes, the tip of your nose reddened and your lips swollen. "Why are you even here? Thought you found your special guy," he mocks the words he had seen plastered on your story only a few weeks ago - a selfie of you with some loser, lips pressed to his cheek as he wore the dorkiest grin Jack has ever seen in his life. It had made his skin crawl. "Not special enough to whisk you away on some romantic weekend for the holiday, huh?"

Your scowl quickly dips into a frown, brows softening, glare melting and tears welling at your lash line. Your lips start to tremble, and Jack straightens up - not knowing if you're nauseous or upset.

“I hate Valentine’s Day,” you cry dramatically, leaning on your arm as you stay hunched over the toilet bowl.

“No you don’t,” Jack snickers, reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear and smoothing it into place, the touch of his fingers soft against your scalp and almost lulling you into a sense of calm. “You’re just drunk.”

“No, I hate it. It sucks,” you huff, “It’s a con and a scam and I’m sick of having it shoved in my face all month. I want it gone and I want it gone now.”

“Alright, Princess,” he mocks, “You never hated Valentines before, what happened?”

“I never hated a lot of things before,” you scowl again, eyes narrowed at the way his lip quivers in amusement - because of course he’d take pleasure in your misery.

It’s what he loves to do.

Only, it isn't your misery that's making him smile. It's just you - dramatic and exaggerated - looking him in the eye and talking in full sentences, or near enough. It feels like forever since he's had you like this.

"I got dumped. Again. You'll probably be happy to know that you're not alone in thinking I'm not worth your time."

"I didn't dump you," Jack defends himself, immediately, "And I don't think that."

He isn't lying either - technically the two of you were never in a relationship, so dumping was out of the question. He needed a break to focus on his recovery - focus on building himself back up for a full season, no distractions, no entanglements, and he hadn't thought either of you were in that deep for it to actually matter.

Until he started to miss you.

It took him mere days, hitting him like a tonne of bricks the first time he tried to text you and it wouldn't go through.

He was still in Michigan, you were in Jersey, and taking drastic measures to seek you out at the time felt a little too much for the casual circumstances you had both originally agreed to - friends with benefits, scratching each other's itches and relieving each others stress.

And then by the time he was back in town - it felt too late.

You still crossed paths, ran in the same circles, but you wouldn't speak to him anymore, and he didn't want to open any old wounds you were clearly trying to heal.

But he never stopped caring. Never stopped looking out for you when you got a little too drunk at parties, or watching your stories from Luke's phone, because you had him blocked on every platform.

And it's only now that you're in front of him, speaking to him again, that he realises the extent of how much he's missed you.

"Whatever," you sigh.

"No, not whatever," he shuffles along the floor, legs knocking into yours as he reaches out again, swiping the stubborn strand of hair that keeps falling forward back behind your ear and holding it in place. "I don't think that."

He tries to be assertive in saying it, this time - eyes locked on yours, grip firming up a little on your face, lowering his tone of voice until it sounds more sure - and he figures it works a little better, your tired eyes blinking slowly as the honesty seeps in.

You sigh, heavy in a way that makes your shoulders slump, your lips twisting as you look down.

You're quiet for a moment, and all Jack can do is watch - stuck in the same position, the same proximity - as you try to fight the tears. Something tugs, like an ache in the depth of his chest, a soreness that can only be remedied by holding you, he thinks. But he knows that isn't the right move.

You're not okay. You're drinking to mask your feelings, to the point of self-destruction, throwing up on your own in the bathroom at a party filled with all your friends, and it's all his fault.

"I'm sorry," is all he can think to say, a lump in the back of his throat as you give a resigned nod, still not meeting his eye. "I'm sorry that I was a dick, and I'm sorry the other guy was a dick. You deserve better than both of us."

A lone tear slips out, rolls down your cheek cinematically slow, and Jack swipes at it before it can fall, the pad of his thumb stroking gently at your jaw.

"I'm not gonna leave you," he promises, and you're probably too drunk to look any further into it, but he means it in more ways than he can possibly convey on a bathroom floor, your hair matted to your forehead and tears in your eyes. "I'm gonna look after you. I'm gonna get you home safe, and in the morning, we're gonna talk, okay?"

You nod again, looking up briefly into oceanic irises - a storm that once consumed you still swirling within them.

"Alright, c'mon, let's get you up." He stands before you do, shifting behind you with hands under your arms, holding your body against his as he leans over and flushes all the evidence of your intoxication away.

"Don't manhandle me," you huff.

"I'm just trying to-,"

"If you say help one more time, I'm gonna throw up all over your car."

He presses his lips together to save himself, nodding towards the door and gesturing for you to start heading out if you can do so by yourself. He hovers behind you the entire time, hand floating behind the small of your back, ready to catch you when you inevitably stumble on unsteady feet.

And when he finally gets you home, you don't let him go any further than your couch, shoving him down onto it and stomping off to your room, the slam of your door causing him to smile to himself - because despite all your defiance, the stomping, the slamming, the sulking and the sighs, you still let him back in.

And he's not going to let you go again.

[nyarumie]

Suit Anomaly. (Oneshot)

hoshina soshiro x reader — 919 words. established relationship, kissing, making out, mentioned 'she' pronouns for reader.

Just a small break from my ongoing Narumi fic, which is linked on my pinned post! Please do check it out too 🫶

Click here for part 2! Cross-posted on Ao3.

Requests, prompts, or any messages are appreciated! Just open my ask box.

A staring contest in the middle of the highly confidential training facility has apparently been going on for a couple of minutes. You maintained a good distance between Soshiro and yourself, just enough to bend your upper body forward and stare into the eyes of Kaiju no.10 in his suit. (The Kaiju, in fact, refuses to open its eyes).

"Can this guy see anything?" you asked.

Eh? This guy?

Soshiro can't believe you just addressed the Kaiju in his suit as just some guy. What were you even doing? Testing the No. 10 suit wasn't on his schedule today, but you managed to pester Okonogi into "checking it out for anomalies" because of how bad they performed in yesterday's target training.

It was Okonogi who answered you from above, "Yes. Because its consciousness is fully retained, you can still think of it as a Kaiju, albeit taking the form of a Defense Force suit."

"Why's it ignoring me then? Soshiro, is this like a pet of yours? Maybe you need to tame it, you're good at that anyways." you said, now standing upright, still staring at the eye hole of the suit. "Your performance was still shit yesterday, Kaiju No. 10."

Finally, it opened its eye. "I'm not this bowlcut's pet!" it growled at you.

"So you do have an eye. You can do better at target practice, yeah? Your tail is aggressively wagging, by the way." you said, your stare turning cold now that it decided to open its eyes.

Soshiro clapped his hands once, a sign that you both need to stop arguing. Scratching the back of his head, he whined your name. "It's supposed to be my off-day from training, ya know? What was the anomaly check ya said yesterday?"

You sighed, a hand in one hip. You walked closer, ignoring the panicked warning of Okonogi that you're entering dangerous territory. Soshiro was uncharacteristically taken by surprise when you hooked a hand behind his neck and comfortably placed your other hand on his chest, pulling him closer.

Before you can even do anything, you hear the suit's tail wave around more aggressively than before, almost destroying the floor behind Soshiro. "... So that's what's up." you said, still retaining the quite intimate position you both are in.

"Fine! FINE!! You got me, can the both of you stop doing that every damn time?! You humans are so weird!" the Kaiju wailed.

And it closed its eye again.

Confused, Soshiro placed both his hands on either side of your waist. "Dear, what's goin' on?"

"I'm afraid we shouldn't work together on the field if you're using that suit."

He frowned, "But nothin' else tops our teamwork. Are ya worried this suit will kill you?"

You feel laughter threatening to spill from your lips. 'How adorable. For a hella smart guy, he's so clueless this time; they really refuse to read each other's mind, don't they?' you thought.

You cleared your throat to control yourself, explaining the anomaly you discovered. "Dear, the Kaiju is flustered."

He's so dumbfounded right now.

"This Kaiju? Flustered?" Is that even possible? "From what?" he asked.

Suddenly finding the entire situation funny, your attitude from earlier drastically changed. "Allow me to elaborate, then!" you said, humor visible from your eyes.

"Its tail wagging aggressively and eye closing during your target exercises whenever I'm around—because you kiss me so much, it can't stand seeing me without remembering it!" you laughed.

You hear Kaiju No. 10 grumble a complain, sounding something like what a "needy bastard" Soshiro is.

Ah. "Well buddy, ya gotta learn how to cope with it. She's my partner on-field and off-field. Ya can stand my blades, but not a kiss?" Soshiro said, slightly amused at the situation.

Its tail got aggressive again. "Shut up! You're basically devouring her mouth! Do humans really need to hold each other closely while doing it?! I'm your suit—I can feel your body heat up from it, you bastard!" it spouted.

You raise your eyebrow at him. "Oh?"

Okonogi took this as a sign to temporarily leave the room, sighing at how silly this entire thing is.

"Well, m'dear, the Kaiju didn't lie." he teasingly said, grinning as he pulled you even closer and cupping your face in one hand. "How 'bout we give it a sample right now? It needs time getting used to us, don'tcha agree?"

Before you were even able to reply, he dipped and kissed your lips fully.

You let out a surprised sound, feeling him angling his lips better as his tongue prodded access to your mouth. 'Such intensity for a sample,' you thought. Your hand subtly pulled on his hair, the both of you moaning as your tongues danced with each other.

He reluctantly pulled away as he felt you pat his chest, a silent plea for air.

"How are ya feeling?"

"Beyond amazing. Might need more later."

You jumped at the voice that boomed from the suit, "You bastards done? I may be able to close my eye, but I can hear everything!! You're both the most disgusting humans ever!"

Soshiro huffed, "Quit whinin', you're such a drama queen. Get used to it, it's part of yer training."

"Ahem." You both hear a voice from above.

Ah, it's the Captain. Did Okonogi fetch her?

"Don'tcha worry Captain Ashiro, we're wrapping up already." he said.

Soshiro and you made your way back to the control room, announcing that the anomaly has been "taken care of".

[randomshyperson]

hello!! I hope you are well. May I add a request to the “touch ask” game? Wanda-Touch-25? Please and thank you. Maybe as a continuation of Wanda and Kryptonian reader?This pairing of my new favourite and you write it so beautifully.

thanks for everything!

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Drabbles

prompt: stroking the other's arm soothingly | words: 1123 | warnings: fluff, violence (?), previously agreed mind control, some touching but nothing inappropriate (the Avengers would disagree ofc).

challenge masterlist | general masterlist

-&- 

Kryptonians had indestructible and invulnerable bodies. They were bulletproof, heatproof, or coldproof. You could probably out-strength gods like Thor or radioactive monsters like the Hulk.

But magic? Well, that was different.

Somehow, magic could break through every biological barrier in your body and bring you to your knees.

That was precisely why Natasha Romanoff always had Wanda as your training partner.

"Come on, guys, no slacking off. I want four sequences, everyone." The widow announced with a warning clap, while the entire team groaned in unison. Even the super soldiers present had some difficulty completing the demanding exercises of a black widow. 

You were moving to grab your training gloves for the exercise circuit when Natasha called your name. "Not so fast, little alien. You and Maximoff, mat." 

Wanda smiled contentedly at the same time you sighed in discouragement, just as the team got excited and started whistling. See, you were indestructible. Watching you get your ass kicked every now and then was everyone's favorite pastime there. Ignoring Natasha's smirk as you passed her, you tried to stay positive about the whole thing. At least you were working on your humility with your favorite person in the world. 

"I'll go easy on you." Wanda assured you, already on the mat, hands in a fighting position. You chuckle, imitating her defensive stance, even though it wouldn't make any difference. 

"As if."

Truth be told, you're the one who always goes easy on her. Wanda has the magical advantage, of course, but that's it. If you wanted, you could use your speed to easily immobilize her. But the risk of hurting her small human body - a caution you don't need to take with fellow gods or augmented beings - is too high.

So the most you can guarantee to make her training difficult is to dodge her energy attacks, until she loses her patience and stops acting like a sniper, and starts acting like a real witch.

You stumble gently as you feel the familiar invasion. It's like being intoxicated. Wanda is always gentle when she does this. She's learned to hone her mind control very well, without having to reduce her opponents to babbling versions of pure panic. Now, she can enchant them like a mermaid, or perhaps, she only chooses to do it this way with you.

The gym around you becomes a little blurry, and all you see clearly is her, smiling victoriously at you.

"Ready to call it a defeat? Or do you want me to kick your ass a little longer?" She teases as she takes slow steps towards you. It's an illusion, of course, you're sure she hasn't even moved a muscle in reality, and all of this shouldn't have taken more than a second.

You chuckle weakly. This kind of thing has been getting more and more dangerous. Keeping secrets from someone who occasionally plays with your mind is very difficult. Wanda taught you to stay calm in these situations, but all you can do is remind yourself that you're keeping your feelings buried, away from her, and you start to despair.

She notices your anxiety, and the confidence disappears from her expression.

"Hey, are you alright?" She asks, maybe this time, her footsteps towards you were real. You're panicked enough that you can't tell the difference.

Freaking out during a mind control is stupid. And even worse for someone who has powers like yours. Wanda gets close enough to touch your face, and you remember last week when you accidentally saw too much skin when she changed clothes in your room. The shame and guilt return, and you pull away, terrified that she will be able to see that memory.

Your panic in that vulnerable state stimulates your powers, and Wanda exclaims in surprise when the beam of your heat vision advances and grazes near her head. Her fright interrupts the magic, and your release is immediate when Wanda hits your shoulder with a strong magical expel, which throws you about three steps back.

Natasha crosses her arms in disapproval and all the Avengers are looking at you two, while a new hole in the ceiling of the academy appears.

"What the hell you two! What did I tell you about mind tricks?" The black Widow inquires in disapproval, but Wanda is rushing to your support, concern on her features.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

You interrupt her with "I'm fine, don't worry" forcing a small smile. As you try to lift your torso correctly and raise your arm to touch her, you groan in pain and Wanda's eyes widen, as does the whole team. At the feeling, you end up chuckling a little breathlessly. "Wow, that's... surprising. Looks like you set a new record here, Wands. First person to make me feel muscle pain." The team laughs at the joke, but Wanda isn't very happy about it. Natasha forgets about the scolding because she's too interested in discussing with Steve the progress of the two of you in training, and well, you get too distracted with Wanda caressing your arms in an attempt to ease the pain. 

"Is it really that bad?" She asks with a worried frown. She must be feeling guilty enough not to realize what she's doing - how she’s touching you.

You try not to be so pathetic, it's an innocent gesture, but maybe it's too gentle or too warm to ignore. She strokes your arms soothingly, trying to apologize while murmuring that she's sorry for hitting you. And it only takes a moment longer for Wanda to get distracted with what she was doing - Not that you have any way of knowing that she's starting to notice the strong Kryptonian anatomy a little too much, and how feeling strong arms was the real reason she sighed and shook her head, pushing away thoughts she definitely shouldn't be having about her best friend.

Sharing the same warm pink in her cheeks as you, her hands moved away, and Wanda cleared her throat, trying to hide her own reactions while you hid yours.

"So... do you want to get something to eat? I'm starving."

She chuckles shortly. "You're always starving, darling." She teases, and well, she's right so you can't even argue.

Distracted by each other's presence, you soon lose yourself in small talk as you head toward the kitchen, and neither of you notices Sam or Clint grimacing at the scene they've just witnessed.

"That has to be the gayest thing I've ever seen in my entire life." The falcon grumbled in disbelief.

The hawk next to him massaged his forehead in a frown. "I should have retired already. I would have been less traumatized."

They shake their heads in unison, and then go back to training.

[zegrasdrysdale]

“who did this to you?”

with jamie drysdale

part of the 1k celly event

summary : after an encounter with an ex that leaves her with some bruising and feeling unsafe, she finds herself in Jamie's apartment, where her best friend is there for her like he always is

warning(s) : mentions of abuse / an abusive event, a past toxic relationship, oc made up for the plot

author’s note : i felt v inspired to write something for jamie so here y'all go

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She shouldn't have come out tonight. That's the only thing she can think of as she sits on the back of an ambulance. Her friend is talking to authorities while her face, wrist, and hand get checked out. Her ex-boyfriend is cuffed and being put in the back of a police car.

Her cheekbone stings and she can barely see out of her left eye. Her wrist is sore from landing on it awkwardly when she fell, and her hand hurts from being able to land one punch in self defense. She spoke to the same authorities as she was making sure her hand wasn't broken from that punch she landed.

The officer she spoke to made it clear that she wasn't in the wrong. He started everything when he came up to her and harassed her. She gave him several chances to walk away when he approached her. All she did was gently push him away from her when he got too close, and he started going off on her. That's how she ended up with a bruised face, busted up hand, and sore wrist.

It was all worth it though because she's been waiting for her asshole ex to finally go to jail for what he did to her during their relationship. She has all the pictures and proof they would need to put him away for awhile when she sends it to authorities.

For now though, she needs to go home and shower. She feels gross since her ex put his hands on her. Plus, a warm shower sounds like a dream.

Her friend comes over to her when she's done talking with the officer. The EMT looks between them as he finishes up his exam.

"I don't see a reason to go to the hospital tonight," he explains. "The cut on your cheek is superficial so it doesn't require stitches. I don't suspect any broken bones but if things feel like they're not getting any better by next week then head to an Urgent Care or the emergency room. Your neuro function is intact so I don't suspect brain injury. Ice and heat on your wrist and hand, and maybe even ice your cheek and eye to keep swelling down. Over the counter meds like Ibuprofen should be strong enough to keep pain at bey but again, if it gets too painful or things don't improve, seek medical help. Any questions?"

Both girls shake their heads. "Thank you," she tells the EMT. "Glad I'm not going to the hospital tonight."

The EMT packs up the medical kit. "I wouldn't drive until the swelling around your eye goes down," he suggests.

"I drove us here today so no worries," her friend replies. "Thanks for checking her out and keeping her out of the hospital."

He nods and the girls head to the car. She looks at her friend as they approach her car. The duo get in and heat immediately greets both of them as soon as the car is turned on. She hums at the warm air. It was too cold outside in her tiny dress and now broken heels.

She looks out the window as the police car with her ex drives off.

Her ex-boyfriend is probably not happy that he's going to jail, but he'll probably get out on bail until whatever happens next. The thought of him getting out of jail makes her stomach do somersaults. She gets very nervous going back to her apartment all by herself.

As her friend pulls out of the parking lot, she asks, "Can you drop me off at Jamie's instead of my place?"

"Yeah, sure," her friend replies. "Don't feel like going back to your own apartment?"

She shakes her head and looks out the window at the passing buildings. "I don't feel very safe going there by myself," she explains. "Security isn't exactly the best."

"I get it. I'll take you to Jamie's. I was thinking about doing that for the same reason."

The car ride gets quiet after that comment. She plays with her fingers and rubs her wrist when it gets too painful.

She thinks back to the events of the night and thinks that maybe she provoked him. She did shove him away from her so maybe it is her fault that she ended up in this position. It's always her fault anyway. It was always her fault when they were together so why would now be any different?

It wouldn't be any different.

Fifteen minutes after they leave the bar, the car pulls up to Jamie's apartment building. She thanks her friend for the ride and gets out. Shaking from the cold and the night's events, she pushes the buzzer to his apartment.

Hopefully he lets her in because it's kind of late. She has to push the button for a second time and slowly begins to lose hope that he's up.

"Who is it?" Jamie's voice suddenly comes from the intercom.

"It's me," she replies. "It's cold. Can I come up?"

The door in front of her buzzes and she lets herself into the building. She takes the elevator up to the fifth floor. She makes her way down the hallway to Jamie's apartment.

She only has to knock three times before the door swings open.

Jamie's eyes widen as he takes in her appearance. The sight of him is enough to make her lip wobble as she holds back tears. He reaches up and gently cups her face. His thumb grazes the cut on her cheek.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, voice soft. "Oh my God."

"I'm okay," she tells him. "Bruised and in a little pain but I'm okay. No broken bones, no concussion. It was Evan. I went out tonight with a friend and he was there and he-" She cuts herself off. "He got too close and I pushed him away and he attacked me."

"Come here."

He pulls her into his arms and envelopes her in a hug. She buries her face in his chest, ignoring the sharp pain that accompanies her action. Her tears begin to flow, wetting his t-shirt.

The door shuts behind her. Jamie's fingers run through her curls as he just holds her.

Neither of them speak, but his hug is enough to make her feel safer than she ever has. Since their breakup, she's been terrified that Evan was going to pull something like this. She never got a restraining order because that meant she would've had to actually file a report, and that would've only pissed him off.

Being here with Jamie though, she feels incredibly safe. His arms are her home. They've always been her home. She's always wanted them to be her home.

"Let's get you changed and into bed," Jamie says. "I'm sure you want to get into something more comfortable. Plus, you look a little cold. and my bed is nice and warm."

She pulls back and looks up at her best friend. Jamie reaches up to gently dry her cheeks, avoiding the cut and bruises on her face. She leans into his touch and Jamie doesn't move his hands. She wishes she could see out of both her eyes because all she wants to do is look at Jamie.

Feelings have always been there for him. She's had some kind of feelings for Jamie for years, but it was recently when she realized that she loved him. The only place she wanted to be was here after Evan attacked her at the bar.

Her first thought when Evan was landing punch after punch was how much she wished Jamie was there to protect her. He probably wouldn't have gone after her had Jamie been there.

"Thank you for letting me crash here," she whispers. "I know it's kind of a burden with your schedule-"

"You'll never be a burden," Jamie interrupts. "You could've shown up here at three in the morning on a game day and I'd still be up and opening the door for you. You're more important than hockey, and you always will be."

Her vision gets blurry all over again as she looks up at him. "I don't deserve you," she tells him, voice cracking in the process. Jamie tries to say something but she shakes her head. "I don't, Jamie. You've always been here for me despite your crazy life. You've always made time for me no matter where you are or what's going on in your life."

"Because you're my best friend," he explains. "And I-" Jamie cuts himself off, shaking his head. "You're more important than anything that's going on in my life."

The tears fall over and roll down her cheeks. Jamie's thumbs wipe them away. "Really?"

"Really," he softly tells her. "I would drop whatever I was doing to make sure you're okay. I mean it, okay. I'd even leave practice if you called and said you needed me somewhere, even if it meant that I got benched the next game. It kills me that I wasn't there to protect you tonight. I could've prevented this."

That's what she's wanted to hear. She's been waiting for those words to pass his lips. "I wanted you there tonight," she admits. "All I wanted after was you. Jamie, I wish you could've been there to protect me, but you're protecting me now by letting me be here."

He tucks a loose curl behind her ear. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want," he tells her. "Stay until you feel safe going back to your apartment by yourself. Hell, I'd be okay if you moved in if that would help you feel safer."

She nods and sucks on her bottom lip. "Thank you."

"That's what I'm here for," Jamie whispers. "Let's go get you changed, okay? We can talk more when you're more comfortable. I'll go grab you something to wear from my closet."

She nods for a second time and Jamie lets her go to go get her some clothes. Her eyes follow him before her feet begin to move. She follows him into his bedroom and he digs through his closet to grab something for her to sleep in. She leans against the doorframe.

Jamie tosses a t-shirt and pair of gym shorts onto the bed. "I'll let you get changed," he tells her. "Come out when you're done and I'll make you something to eat or get you a snack. Whatever you want, okay?"

"Okay," she agrees. "Thanks."

He nods and pushes past her to leave the room. She grabs his wrist as he walks by. Jamie stops in his tracks and looks at her, eyebrows raised in question.

Without an exchanged word, she pulls him toward her gently. Jamie looks down at her while her eyes scan his face. She reaches up and cups his stubbled jaw, tracing his cheekbones with her thumbs. Her heart races in her chest as she gets on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. She lingers longer than she should before she pulls back and flattens her feet.

Seconds seem like hours as the two of them look at each other in the doorway of Jamie's bedroom. Neither of them have moved in a little bit. She doesn’t think she wants to move at this point.

Jamie makes the first move though. He returns the same cheek kiss and she closes her eyes, taking in his touch. She turns her head before he can pull back. His face is super close to hers, and he doesn’t move.

He mumbles something then crashes his lips to hers in a kiss that makes her head spin. Her fingers slide into his hair and cradle the back of his head.

She used to dream of his kisses when her feelings for him started to develop years ago. She had sweeter dreams where they would share soft kisses. There also were dreams where she would wake up and need a cold shower to calm herself down.

This is nothing like those dreams. She imagined their first kiss thousands of times, but she never imagined it would happen like this. It’s soft, yet heated. He’s being so careful not to hurt her.

That’s Jamie Drysdale.

The kiss is short, but it makes her want more. Just not tonight. It’s already been a long night.

“Get some sleep,” Jamie tells her. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Stay.”

“Not tonight. I want to make sure you’re safe first.”

“I’d be safer with you here with me,” she admits. “Don’t sleep on the couch. Stay with me. Jamie, please.”

He thinks about it for a second before he nods. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

If Jamie is going to do anything, it’s be there for her. He’s always there for her, no matter what.

And that’s what she loves most about him.

༺──────────────༻

MASTERLIST | 1K CELLY EVENT

have a request ? check out the guidelines !!

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[eitaababe]

Could I request a Jj x reader angst but with a happy ending ? Reader and Jj get into a fight and he says nasty things to her and they don’t speak for days until he sees her at a party where someone is flirting with her and they talk it out ?

TALK IT OUT.

jj maybank x kook! reader.

[ a/n ; this took entirely way too long for me to finish but lol hope you enjoy! ]

—

"JJ?" you called out softly, hearing the familiar onset of knocks at your bedroom window.

You could spot him through the glass– wearing a new bruise on his cheek. Sleepiness long forgotten, you jumped out of bed, quickly opening your window and ushering him in.

"Hey, Princess." He grinned the same toothy smile, as if his left cheek wasn't currently throbbing. Complying with your fussy movements, he sat at the edge of the bed, watching you rummage quietly around for a first aid kit.

You huffed, heading to your bathroom before coming back, the small bag in hand. "Jesus, what happened?" You muttered, more of a hypothetical question than anything else.

"You should see the other guy." He lightly jokes, avoiding the question altogether. It was like this every time– he'd show up, beaten and bruised, refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation. And you knew it was coming from home, but JJ never let you catch onto more than that.

"JJ." You finally sighed out, tone stern.

"Y/n." He responded, grinning like a fool.

"I'm serious," you huffed. "You gotta tell me what's going on. This- this isn't healthy-"

"What, you want me to stop coming over here? I don't got anywhere else to go!" He scoffed, suddenly defensive.

"I want you to be honest with me!" You pleaded, still sitting at the edge of the bed, looking up as he paced throughout your room. "I know there's something going on at home, and I want to help, JJ-"

"You want me to be honest?" He breathed out, tongue poking at his cheek before he spoke up again. "Alright. Yeah, here's honesty- you live such a perfect life, princess. Nice house, nice family, living on figure 8. And you're what- hanging out with me? Some dirt bag from the cut? You wouldn't get what my life's like- alright? You can't understand."

"But I want to understand," you breathed out, standing and trying to meet his eyes. "If you'd just let me-"

"God, Y/n, I'm not some charity case! What, you gonna call CPS on me? Try and fix me? I'm already fucked up, I get that. But I don't need your fake pity. This- I don't know what you thought this was," he scoffs, each word digging further into your chest like a blade, "But this isn't a relationship, princess. It was just fun, okay? So stop tryin' to get all sappy-feely on me."

You recoiled at his words, going quiet. Your mind raced through all your times together, the pillow talks, late night rendezvous at the beach, or even the small and intimate moments where he'd come over, relying on you to patch him up and inevitably staying the night in your bed.

"Right," you agreed softly, missing the subtle regret on his face. "Sorry."

"Princess-"

"No, no, you're right," you shook your head, breathing out. "It's just casual. I shouldn't have overstepped," you cleared your throat, nodding towards the window. "You should go."

He went quiet, mouth opening and closing as if he tried to think of what to say in response. But he settled for a quick nod, crawling back out the window.

You don't reach out the next couple of days, ignoring JJ's attempts of trying to make small talk. But you'd caught yourself sulking in bed, deciding you needed to make a change. Sarah had coaxed you out of bed, deciding that a party with the kooks would be the best way to let loose.

You had your doubts, but she wouldn't take no for an answer.

So there you stood, next to the bonfire with a beer in hand. The night had been completely uneventful, until you were approached by some other party goer. You knew of the boy, his name has started with an E. Ethan? Evan? You racked your brain, plastering on a polite smile as he greeted you.

"Hey, Y/n," he grinned, nodding your way. "Having fun?"

"Hey, E..." you trailed off, a shy, slightly bashful smile on your face.

"Eden." He finished for you, chuckling. "Where's your bodyguard?"

You furrowed a brow, confused before it clicked. You and JJ always ended up at parties together, many aware of the unofficial official relationship you two had. It was another cruel reminder of his absence, but you pulled yourself out of it.

"Maybank? He's not- we're not really.."

"So you're available?" Eden grinned, his once boyish grin morphing into something that could only cause discomfort. You glanced around, hoping for an outlet out of the conversation.

"Okay, even if I was-" you scoffed, eyes widening when he took a step closer, the alcohol all consuming from his breath.

"Nah, cmon, let's go-"

"Hey, dickwad!"

You'd never been so happy to hear the familiar voice, turning and relaxing at the sight of his messy locks. JJ's arms were immediately on you, wrapping over your shoulder. "Tryin' to steal my girl?"

"Woah, she told me-"

"Get lost," JJ cut him off, grinning and waving him off with a gesture. Once he was out of sight, the blonde turned back to you, expression softening with concern. "You alright, baby? He didn't try anything, did-"

"I'm fine." You muttered, pulling back from his hold. You didn't meet his eye, your cold tone causing his shoulders to droop.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" He sighed, looking down at you. He paused, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. "I just- I've never really done anything more than hookups-"

"That's not an excuse-"

"Let me finish, woman," he huffed, pressing a finger over your lips to shut you up, suppressing a grin at the cute pout on your face. "I know it's not an excuse. But I got scared, and I didn't mean it, okay? It's just- you're perfect. You're from this great, rich, and nice family and I'm just- I'm just me. I'm broke, I have a dad who beats me, dirt poor-"

"You don't have to berate yourself so much, it's making me start to feel bad." You grumbled out, looking down at the space between you two.

"So you're sayin' it's working?" He grinned, lowering his head to meet your eyes. As the corners of your mouth quirked up, he pushed further. "Cmon, princess, y'know I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

You huffed at the promise, rolling your eyes. "Promise?"

"Scout's honor." JJ teased, eyes twinkling as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Any cold facade you'd put on melted at that, as you leaned in, head burying into his chest. "Asshole."

"I know." He laughed, playfully tickling your side. "And 'm sorry. Promise I'll talk with you about all that stuff."

"Good," you nodded, smiling softly up at him.

"Great," JJ added, grinning back. "Now can we please go back to the party so we can watch a drunk Kie yell about saving those damn turtles?"

[hrtwayne]

Hasta Los Dientes || Alexia Putellas [Part Three]

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!Reader

Summary: One of Arsenal's top players receives an offer to play for Barcelona after recovering from a cruciate ligament injury in her leg. Following a recent fallout with the Gunners' captain, the athlete decides that the best course of action is to accept the offer and escape the tension in the locker room.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: None!

Previous Chapter | Women's Football Masterlist

IT WAS A CLOUDY MORNING when Y/n Lancaster landed at Barcelona airport, her eyes still heavy from the lack of a good night's sleep. The midfielder was accompanied by her younger sister and her manager. It would be the first time in months that Y/n would appear in public after being away from the media following her injury.

On the other hand, it would be quite a surprise for Barcelona fans to discover that the best defensive midfielder from the English league had been signed for the next three seasons. Y/n tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack. Until the contract was signed, Y/n was still considered the vice-captain of Arsenal.

With determined steps and a professional demeanor, Y/n joined her manager in the meeting room of the Catalan team. She couldn't lie and say she wasn't anxious, because Y/n had to admit that her heart was about to jump out of her throat and give her a nervous breakdown. The midfielder had already read and reread that contract at least a dozen times the night before, and her tired expression seemed to be living proof of that.

This was supposed to be an ordinary Friday afternoon, but now Y/n was in Spain signing a contract with one of the biggest teams in the world, feeling relieved to have left a place that was once considered her home but had turned into a living hell.

"You know I can feel your nervousness from miles away," Aliyah whispered, observing Y/n's nervous smile. "It's not like the girls on the team are going to hate you. Remember, you're kind of an inspiration to these people."

Y/n sighed, knowing her sister was right about that. She shouldn't make a mountain out of a molehill before having her first interaction with her new teammates.

"But that doesn't change the fact that they might not like me, A," Y/n replied, hearing the girl's soft laugh.

"You always come up with impossible scenarios. You're literally one of the greatest players in English history. They might not like you that much, but they're not going to mistreat you either," Aliyah stated, gently squeezing her sister's hand.

With determined steps, Y/n paced back and forth in her new apartment. The place looked like a post-apocalyptic zone. Countless boxes were scattered around the living room as Y/n finished putting away some clothes in the closet.

Y/n had her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. She was in the middle of the chaos, trying to organize it somehow. She stopped for a moment, looking around and taking a deep breath. The move from London to Barcelona had been quick, almost surreal, and now she was there, in a new country.

As she tried to decide where to place a bookshelf, the apartment door opened, and Aliyah, her younger sister, walked in carrying a shopping bag. Aliyah, only nineteen, had offered to help her with the move and, in a way, was also taking the opportunity to explore the city.

"Y/n, I brought some things for dinner. I assume you're not in the mood to cook today?" Aliyah said, placing the bag in the kitchen.

Y/n smiled, relieved to have her sister close for the next few months.

"You're an angel, A," she thanked, smiling.Aliyah laughed.

"Relax, I'll give you a hand here. But first, Rachel called. She said she needs to confirm some details for your presentation at the club tomorrow."

Rachel was Y/n's manager, an experienced and determined woman who always took care of every detail of the player's career. Y/n sighed, remembering that, besides organizing the apartment, she had a series of commitments to fulfill.

"Alright, I'll call her in a bit. What else did she say?"

"That you need to be prepared for the interviews. There's going to be a press conference, and everyone will want to know how you're adjusting, what you expect from the team, that kind of stuff. Oh, she also mentioned that the coach wants to meet you before the first training session."

Y/n nodded, trying to process all the information. She knew the pressure would be intense. Playing for Barcelona wasn't just an opportunity; it was a challenge. The expectations were high, and she needed to prove she was up to the task.

"Alright, let's take care of everything step by step," Y/n said, trying to calm herself. "First, let's get the house in order. Then I'll handle the rest."

Aliyah agreed, and the two began working together, unpacking boxes and organizing the apartment. Meanwhile, Y/n thought about what awaited her the next day. The presentation at the club, the first contact with the players, the training sessions... and trying to bring her fitness coach along.

"You were really born to play for Barcelona," Aliyah said, placing books on the shelf.

Y/n smiled, feeling a bit more confident. She knew the journey wouldn't be easy, but she was determined to make it worth it. After all, Barcelona was a city full of opportunities, and she was ready to embrace them.