#noice - never noticed that

[timmydraker]

Everyone in the Bat Clan has been noticing something over the years, specially about Tim.

Every so often he will go to do something with his hands or even his entire body, such as swaying or shaking his hands, but always stops himself.

There’s almost this look of annoyance on his face that just barely hides discomfort, but he brushes it off quickly.

Bruce noticed and, thinking about Robin more than anything, offered some kind of fidgeting device to help him stay on task, only for Tim to snap at him for the first time. It was his usual snark or commenting on Bruce’s well being, but a real moment of lashing out.

He decided then not to bother Tim about his clear want to move around it play with something even if it’s just his hands, mainly because he was doing his job well.

Yet, as he starts to really try and be a good parent to his kids and realises that Tim is one of the places he messed up most by basically using him to cope with grief, he decides to ask the rest of the family what they think.

Dick says it could be ADHD and he needs movements, with Barbara backing it up with a few websites in agreement.

Damian says he should mediate and Cass so what agrees but says it probably won’t help someone like Tim that much.

Duke and Steph make up a somewhat chaotic plan of coercing him into telling them what he needs, out of love and somewhat aggressive care.

It’s Jason who just scoffs and says, “It’s stimming, you idiots. He has like, super messed up standards cause of his parents, right? They probably didn’t allow it but he’s got that like, autastic thing.”

Only Jason Todd could say something so smart followed by completely idiocy.

But he is right, very much so. It might also explain why sometimes he seemingly couldn’t handle touch but when he panicked he need to be squeezed as tightly as possible.

Naturally, with a family of emotionally repressed vigilantes, they decide to subtly let him know it’s okay.

Dick is the worst with it, speaking far too loudly about how Autism is okay and how he wants to learn to support autistic kids, while Bruce thinks nodding along to this helps.

Damian just stares at Tim for five minutes before bailing and running away.

When a month passes and Tim seem more like he’s even more ashamed than anything my, Cass smashes her hand on the table at dinner and drags him out of the room to talk to him.

Tim is forced to sit and listen to his sister, who may or may not be his favourite sibling, talk about how he’s not damaged or wrong for needing to stim and move his body. She calls him out on how he is being a hypocrite, for accepting people like Bart and Barbara and and her for their disabilities whether ADHD or something physical but not himself.

Tim wouldn’t have been moved by this if it was anyone else, but never in all the time he’s known her has he heard Cass say so many words in one go nor can see her cry so much. She’s loud when she cries, making up for her silence, but it’s only something any of them have seen twice and that was Bruce and Steph.

He doesn’t just magically accept that he’s neurodivergent, nor does he ever want a title as to what is different about him, but the difference is still noticeable.

A week later him and Dick are watching an episode of their show and something Tim adores, a comic series, is referenced. Instead of what he usually does, that being sitting there as still as he can, he bats his hands around a for a few seconds before pausing and waiting for Dicks reaction.

When Dick beams at him brighter than a sun he continues, smacking the couch and even Dicks arm in his excitement.

A few days later he makes a high pitched noice just to get to an itch in his throat and doesn’t realise that Jason is there, yet when the other responds with the same noice, given a bit deeper, Tim smile. Bruce walks in on them making strange noises at each other in a sort of echo.

It’s months later when it’s his birthday and his family has come together to buy him a new, stupidly expensive camera only to reveal they also added a red light room in the manner for him to print them that they really see how much safer he feels.

He flaps his hands aggressively and jumps in place, rumbling out words that don’t all much and thanking them over and over.

He squeals happily but only has a moment where he looks shamed before Bruce holds out a flat palm for him to smack excitedly.

Later, when he gets overwhelmed and crashes a little, Duke lies on top of him to give him pressure only for Steph to sit on him.

[brunchable]

LAZARUS SERUM || Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Part I

Part Two | Part Three Words: 8.5K Themes: Very Angsty?, Break-up, Violence, Kidnapped, Super Human transformation, Action, Attempted Assault, Lovers to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers. Summary: Set in 1942. Steve allowed being a Super Soldier inflate his ego. After a breaking up with Steve, your world shatters then you're abducted and subjected to a mysterious experiment. A/N: I was washing the dishes when this came to me. I thought Y/N was really BADASS at the end. Baby girl is bad bitch, she on Fire. Paint the town red can be her song. A reblog would be noice <3

The sun was setting over Brooklyn, casting long shadows across the streets. You and Steve walked side by side, your fingers intertwined, the cool breeze of the evening wrapping around you both. Steve’s small hand fit perfectly in yours, a comforting reminder of the years you had spent together, supporting each other through thick and thin. 

It wasn’t easy being with him, especially with how the world treated him—just a scrawny, sickly guy who never knew when to give up. 

Your parents disapproved and your friends laughed at you for choosing Steve over James. You always tell Steve, ‘If they laugh, then fuck'em all.’

He has a good heart and you loved him for it— for his determination, his kindness, and his unwavering sense of right and wrong.

As you walked, a heavy silence hung between you. The reason was clear: James or known as Bucky Barnes, was shipping out to fight in the war. The three of you had been inseparable, a trio bound by shared history and deep affection. But now, Bucky was leaving, and the thought of losing him weighed heavily on your heart.

“Well, I guess this is it. I’m heading out tomorrow.” Bucky finally stopped and turned to you both, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

You nodded, trying to keep the sadness from showing on your face. “It’s not going to be the same without you, Bucky.”

He gave a small chuckle, though it lacked its usual warmth. “You’ll manage. You’ve got this punk to keep you busy.” He playfully nudged Steve, who smiled weakly in return.

“I should be going with you, Bucky,” Steve said, his voice tight with emotion.

“You’re gonna be fine, Steve. You’ve got that heart of yours, and that’s stronger than any muscle.” Bucky’s expression softened, and he reached out, placing a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder. He turned to you, his gaze filled with concern. 

“And you, Y/N… take care of him, will ya? Someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.”

You forced a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I will, Bucky. I promise.”

Bucky pulled you into a tight hug, holding you for a moment longer than necessary. When he finally let go, he clasped hands with Steve, their handshake lingering as they both tried to hold onto the moment.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” Bucky said, trying to lighten the mood.

Steve gave a small laugh, but it was strained. “No promises.”

With one last look at both of you, Bucky nodded, then turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the distance. 

As he left, the weight of his absence settled over you like a thick fog. The world suddenly felt colder, emptier without Bucky’s presence.

“He’ll be okay,” Steve said quietly, more to himself than to you, as you both stood there in silence, watching Bucky disappear.You leaned into Steve, seeking comfort in his presence. 

“I hope so. I don’t know what we’ll do if something happens to him.” Steve squeezed your hand, trying to be reassuring. 

“He’s strong. He’ll make it back.” But deep down, both of you knew there were no guarantees in war.

× × × × 

A few weeks later, the day finally came when Steve received his enlistment notice. You were there when he got the news, a mixture of pride and worry swirling in your chest. He had finally done it—he was going to fight in the war, just like Bucky. But that also meant he was leaving you behind, just like Bucky.

“I can’t believe it,” Steve said, staring at the paper in his hands, his voice filled with excitement. “I’m actually going.”

You smiled, though it was bittersweet. “I knew you would. You’re the most determined person I’ve ever met, Steve. They’d be crazy not to let you in.”

 “I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N. You’ve always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.” Steve looked up at you, his expression softening.

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m so proud of you, Steve. You’re going to do great things. Just… promise me you’ll be careful.”

Steve’s eyes were filled with emotion as he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I promise, Y/N. I’ll come back to you. I swear.”

But as you held him, a deep sadness settled over you. First Bucky, now Steve—everyone you cared about was leaving, going off to fight a war that seemed so far removed from your life in Brooklyn. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread, a fear that things would never be the same again.

× × × × 

The day Steve came back from the super-soldier program, everything changed. You had waited anxiously for news, praying that everything would go smoothly, that he would come back to you safe and sound. When you finally saw him again, it was nothing like you imagined.

The first time you laid eyes on the new Steve Rogers was outside a government building, where a crowd had gathered. You pushed your way through, eager to see him after weeks of silence. When you finally spotted him, your breath caught in your throat.There he was—tall, muscular, and impossibly different. The boy you once knew was gone, replaced by a man who exuded power and confidence. It was Steve, and yet it wasn’t.

“Steve!” you called out, your voice lost in the noise of the crowd. You tried to make your way toward him, but the throng of people pushed you back, jostling you aside as they clamored for a closer look at the hero.

Steve seemed oblivious to the crowd around him, focused entirely on the conversation he was having with a woman by his side—Peggy Carter. You had heard about her, of course, but seeing them together was different. There was an ease between them that made your heart sink.

“Steve!” you called out again, louder this time, but he didn’t hear you—or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it. You watched as Peggy leaned in closer, her hand resting on his arm in a way that felt far too familiar.

Then, as if in slow motion, you saw Steve get into a car with her, leaving you standing alone in the crowd, feeling completely invisible.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to see you, to run to you, to hold you in his arms like he always did. But instead, he was driving away with someone else, and you were left behind, forgotten.

× × × ×

A few weeks pass by with not one word from Steve, the last time you heard his voice was on the radio, giving a speech that would motivate the soldiers out there or in the newspaper. You were sitting by the window, reading a book while your cat rested peacefully on your lap. Then, there was a knock at the door. You kept your ears attentive, though your eyes were focused somewhere else.

You heard your mother answer it, and you listened as she exchanged a few words with whoever was at the door. A moment later, she called out to you, “Y/N, there’s a soldier here to see you.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion as you walked toward the door. A soldier? Why would—?

As you reached the doorway, your breath caught in your throat. There, standing in the threshold, was Steve Rogers, but not the Steve you remembered. He was taller, broader, wearing an army uniform that fit him perfectly, and his entire presence seemed… different. The frail, sickly boy you had known was gone, replaced by a man you barely recognized.

“Do you know this gentleman, dear?” Your mother, still standing by the door, looked between you and Steve, clearly confused. 

“It’s me, Mrs. L/N, Steve Rogers.” Steve gave her a warm smile, his voice deeper than you remembered. 

Your mother blinked, looking Steve up and down before recognition finally dawned on her face. “Steve? My goodness, look at you! I didn’t even recognize you. You look… Well, you look like a different person altogether!”

“Yes, he… he certainly does.” You forced a smile, still trying to process the fact that he's standing there. 

“Well, I’ll leave you two to catch up. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” Your mother gave you a strange look as she walked past, heading back into the house. 

The heck was that about?

As she disappeared into the other room, you turned your attention back to Steve, your heart pounding. You looked up at him, which was something you weren't used to. He's so. . .tall.

“Steve… is that really you?”

“It’s me, Y/N,” Steve replied, his voice deeper than you remembered. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. Things have been… crazy in the last couple of days.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment.

Steve smiled, a hint of the old Steve you knew shining through. “I’m more than okay. I want to make it up to you. How about I take you out to dinner tonight? Just the two of us.”

Your heart lifted at the thought. Maybe this was your chance to reconnect, to get back to the way things were. 

“I’d like that,” you said softly. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Listen, I need to go back but I'll see you at our favorite spot? Six-thirty?” He reaches for your hands and kissed the back of it. 

“I’ll be there,” you chuckled at his romantic gesture.

“Don’t keep me waiting.” He winks at you, and you couldn’t help but giggle. This new playful side of him, got you hooked like a fish.

× × × ×

“Good evening, Ma'am. Do you have a reservation for tonight?” the hostess asked politely, her hands poised over the guest book.

“Yes. Steve Rogers?”

The hostess scanned the list, her finger trailing down the page. “Table 11. Right this way.” She smiled warmly and gestured for you to follow.

Your heart quickened as you anticipated seeing Steve, but when you reached the table, your smile faltered. The chair opposite you was empty. The hostess pulled it out for you, and with a quiet sigh, you sat down, your eyes flickering anxiously toward the door.

“Can I offer you any refreshments?” 

“Not at the moment.”

“No problem. Let us know if you need anything.” With a nod, she left you alone, leaving the weight of the evening to settle over you.

Minutes turned into an hour, and you found yourself glancing at the door every time it opened, only to be met with disappointment as someone other than Steve entered. As the hours passed, your hope began to wane, replaced by a growing knot of irritation in your chest.

But as the hours ticked by, your hope began to fade. The restaurant was closing, and still, there was no sign of him. The waitstaff was cleaning up around you, giving you sympathetic looks as you sat there alone, trying to hold back the tears.

The restaurant was winding down, the waitstaff quietly cleaning up around you. Their sympathetic looks were hard to ignore as you sat alone, struggling to keep your emotions in check. You felt a lump in your throat, your eyes stinging as you blinked back tears.

“Miss, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re closing,” a waiter said gently, approaching you with a cautious smile.

You nodded, trying to muster some semblance of dignity, “I’m so sorry. I’ll be on my way.” You snuffled and smiled as you got up from your seat. Getting up alone was hard, the weight of embarrassment was weighing you down. 

Just as you turned to leave, the door swung open. Steve rushed in, his face flushed and hair slightly disheveled. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, hurrying over to you. “I got caught up in something important. I didn’t mean to be late.”

The staff paused in their work, their eyes shifting between you and Steve. There stood the dashing soldier, looking every bit the hero in his crisp uniform, yet here he was, unmistakably late. As their gazes turned to you in your lavender shirtwaist dress, it was clear they understood why you had waited so long.

“It’s eleven.” Your voice seethed after glancing at your watch, noticing a red smudge on his collar, “They’re closed. Let’s talk outside.”

Without waiting for a response, you cleared your throat and walked out, brushing past him intentionally to make your anger known. Steve followed closely behind, sensing the storm brewing between you two. This was the first time he had been this late, and you were struggling to decide whether to forgive him easily or let him feel the full weight of your emotions.

“Steve, where were you? I waited for hours,” you said, trying to keep your voice whole, this feeling like you were losing him is foreign and hard to keep internally.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I got caught up with something… important.” Steve barely met your gaze, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“More important than us?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, the pain of being pushed aside finally surfacing.

Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It’s not like that. You know I’m trying to do the right thing. There’s so much going on, and I—”

“Forgot about me?” You didn’t want to be this person, but the loneliness and the fear of losing him had been building up for too long. Without Bucky around, you had no one to turn to, no one to share this burden with. “I understand that you have responsibilities now, but you made a promise.”

He finally looked at you, guilt flashing in his eyes. “Y/N, I’m not leaving you behind. I just. . . things are different.”

“I can see that,” you said, you look at him from head to toe. The man standing in front of you wasn’t the same Steve who used to hold you and make you feel like the most important person in the world. This was someone else, someone who had outgrown you, “You’ve changed, and I’m not talking about your appearance.”

“I’m still me, Y/N. But now, I have responsibilities, people who rely on me.” Steve looked down, guilt flashing in his eyes. 

“And what about me?” you asked, the hurt evident in your voice. “Do I even matter anymore, or was I just someone to keep you company when you had nothing else?”

“Don’t say that,” Steve replied quickly out of spite, “Maybe… maybe you were only with me because you felt sorry for me. For who I was.”

His words cut deep, and you recoiled as if he had struck you. “You think I was with you out of pity? Is that what you believe?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, his voice strained.

“How could you think that?” you said, your voice rising with a mix of anger and hurt. “I was with you because I love you, Steve. Not because I felt sorry for you. I believed in you, and I loved you for who you were, not because of what you couldn’t do or how you appear.”

“I’m just not sure where I fit in this new world, and I’m not sure where you fit in it either. I'm trying to wo—”

Your chest began feeling tight because of his words. You had always known that things would change after the serum, but you never expected him to question your feelings like this. 

“So, what are you saying? That there’s no place for me in your life anymore? That I don’t belong because you’ve become someone else?” You emphasized his structure with your hand.

Steve shook his head, looking frustrated. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I just… I feel like we’re both hanging on to something that’s already gone.”

“Already gone? Nothing was gone, at least not on my part.” Tears welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep your voice from cracking, “Is there someone else? Is that why you’re looking for a way out?”

“No! Of course not. It's because for once in myself I feel like I'm worth something,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

The finality of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had fought so hard to hold onto him, to keep the love between you alive, but now it felt like you were losing that battle. You had wanted him to stay tonight, to make things right, but now you weren’t sure if there was anything left to salvage.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You turned away, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over. 

“You know what? Just… go, Steve. Do whatever it is you have to do. I will not think less of myself just because you do not know how to love me anymore.” you said, your voice heavy with resignation.

“Y/N…” Steve’s voice was soft, filled with regret, but you couldn’t face him. Not now.

“Please, Steve. Just go.”

What you really wanted to say was, “Please stay. Show me that I still matter to you.” But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You were too afraid that he wouldn’t fight for you, and the thought of that was too painful to bear.

Steve hesitated, his eyes wandering as if trying to find the right words. He just stood there, saying nothing. 

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you walked closer to him, his face softening as you reached up and gently adjusted his collar. Your fingers brushed against the fabric, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. 

Then, in the calmest voice you could muster, you said, “Lemon helps with removing lipstick stains.”

Steve’s eyes widened in panic, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch the spot where your fingers had been.

“Y/N, I seriously don't know how this got here—” he began and it almost sounded genuine, his voice filled with panic as he tried to close the distance between you.

But you took a step back, your eyes now red and brimming with tears. You raised a hand to stop him, your voice breaking as you sobbed deeply, “Don’t. Just… don’t.”

Steve’s heart shattered at the sight of you sobbing, your pain a statement in every tear that fell. His instinct was to reach out, to hold you, but your outstretched hand and the heartbreak in your eyes kept him rooted to the spot.

If Bucky were here… The thought pierced his mind like a knife, and suddenly, jealousy coursed through him, hot and irrational. Bucky. The one person who had always managed to make you smile, even when he couldn’t. The one who could draw out your laughter with just a word, a look. The one who, despite being his best friend, had always been a shadow in the corner of Steve’s mind when it came to you.

Was it easier with Bucky? Did you love Bucky more than him? Had you ever thought of Bucky in ways that Steve couldn’t bear to imagine?

“You should’ve just chosen Bucky.” Steve muttered and with one last, tortured look at you, Steve turned away, his steps. He walked away, leaving you standing there, your tears flowing freely now. He didn’t look back, too afraid of what he might see if he did.

Your breath caught in your throat, the shock of his words slicing through the already unbearable pain. You stared at him, wide-eyed, unable to process the bitterness in his voice, the finality of his statement.

The Steve you had known was gone. You didn’t know if looking for him would be worth it because you knew how it would feel—it would feel like reaching for smoke.

Heartbroken and feeling more isolated than ever, you decided to walk home alone. Your cries echoes the street, water gushing out of your eyes like it’s being released by a dam. The echo of your footsteps on the empty streets was a haunting reminder of just how alone you felt. Steve had left, and with him, it felt like a part of your heart had been ripped away.

Steve’s words replayed in your mind, cutting deeper with every repetition. The idea that he thought you might have been with him out of pity or that you're better off with Bucky was a knife to your heart, twisting with every breath.

The streets of Brooklyn were eerily quiet, the usual bustle replaced by an unsettling stillness. The lamps cast long, distorted shadows across the pavement, and every sound seemed amplified in the silence. You quickened your pace, trying to escape the weight of your thoughts, but it was no use. 

As you turned down a narrow street, the familiar surroundings suddenly felt foreign and oppressive. You hugged your coat tighter around you, your mind racing with a mixture of fear and despair. Ahead, the road forked into two directions—one leading to your home, the other into an even darker, narrower alley. You turned towards home, your heart pounding as you tried to shake the feeling of being watched.

Then, without warning, you heard the screech of tires on the asphalt. Before you could react, a van skidded to a stop in front of you, its headlights blinding in the dark street. The doors flew open, and three men in dark clothing jumped out, their faces obscured by shadows.

Panic surged through you as you spun on your heel, trying to run, but it was too late. They were on you in an instant, their grips like iron as they dragged you towards the van.

“No! Let me go! Help! Please someone!” you screamed, thrashing against their hold, but your voice was swallowed by the night, and the empty streets offered no help. Your heart raced, the fear consuming you as you struggled with the best you can.

A cloth was suddenly pressed against your mouth and nose, and a sickly sweet smell filled your senses. You tried to hold your breath, to fight against the drowsiness that quickly overtook you, but it was no use. The world around you started to blur, your vision darkening as your body went limp.

The last thing you heard before everything went black was the sound of the van doors slamming shut and the dull roar of the engine as it sped away into the night.

× × × ×

DAY ONE

When you woke, the world was a haze of pain and confusion. The first thing you noticed was the cold metal pressing against your back, you were naked. Your wrists and ankles were strapped to a metal table, the restraints biting into your skin. Panic clawed at your chest as you struggled against the bonds, but they held firm, keeping you pinned down.

Your vision was blurry, your head pounding from whatever they had used to knock you out. Slowly, the room around you came into focus—bare, clinical, with walls of stark white. You weren’t in Brooklyn anymore. You weren’t anywhere you recognized.

You heard voices, cold and detached, speaking in hushed tones. You couldn’t make out the words, but the tone sent chills down your spine. Footsteps approached, and a shadow loomed over you.

A man’s face came into view, his expression devoid of any warmth or compassion. “She’s awake. Prepare the serum.”

The word “serum” sent a jolt of fear through you, and you renewed your struggles, trying to break free. But the restraints didn’t budge, and the man paid no attention to your terror or the muffled screams that bounced off the walls.

You felt a sharp prick in your arm as they injected something into your veins. Immediately, a searing pain shot through your body, like liquid fire burning through every nerve. You tried to scream, but your voice was caught in your throat, choked off by the agony that consumed you.

The pain was unbearable and you could feel your body convulsing on the table, your muscles seizing as the serum spread through you. It felt like your entire being was being torn apart, every cell screaming in protest. You began to foam in the mouth, the scene your captors watched was like out of an exorcist movie.

And then… nothing. The world around you went dark, and you slipped into unconsciousness, the pain finally giving way to merciful oblivion.

“Sir, should we stop?” One of them said, “Her vital signs are getting dangerously out of limits, she might go into cardiac arrest.”

“No, keep going until that last vial is finished. I want to see what’ll happen. Then we repeat until there’s signs of success.” 

DAY TWO

You awoke to the sensation of your body being dragged, rough hands gripping your arms as they pulled you across the cold, unforgiving floor. Your vision was clouded, your mind struggling to grasp onto reality as the fog of unconsciousness began to lift. Every inch of you ached, a dull, throbbing pain that seemed to seep into your very bones.

As you were hoisted back onto the metal table, the cold surface pressed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The restraints clamped down on your wrists and ankles once more, their cruel bite familiar by now. The room around you was still the same—sterile, white, and devoid of any humanity.

You tried to speak, but your throat was on dry and on fire, your voice barely a whisper. "Please... stop..."

Your plea fell on deaf ears. The figures in lab coats moved around you with the same clinical detachment as before, their faces obscured by surgical masks. One of them approached, holding a clipboard, his eyes scanning the data as if you were nothing more than a lab rat.

"Her vitals stabilized overnight," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "But... the readings are inconsistent. I'm not sure if the serum is taking effect."

The man from before—the one who had ordered the serum—stepped into view, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. He leaned over you, his eyes scrutinizing your face with a mix of curiosity and impatience.

"Let's see if she can handle more," he said, his voice flat, giving nothing away.

Panic surged through you, your heart racing as you remembered the excruciating pain from the day before. You tried to struggle, but your body was too weak, too drained from the torment they had already inflicted on you.

The man nodded to one of his colleagues, who approached with another syringe, the liquid inside glowing with an ominous, sickly hue. You watched in horror as the needle approached your arm, every muscle in your body tensing with dread.

"No... no, please..." you begged, your voice breaking.

But they didn't stop. The needle pierced your skin once again, and the liquid fire coursed through your veins, more intense than before. The pain was immediate, searing through you like a thousand white-hot knives. You thrashed against the restraints, your screams tearing through the air, but there was no escape from the agony.

The world around you blurred as the pain became all-consuming, every nerve in your body ablaze. You could feel your heart pounding erratically, your vision darkening at the edges. It was too much, too overwhelming.

But this time, there was no merciful oblivion waiting for you. The pain persisted, dragging you down into a nightmare from which there was no escape. Your body convulsed violently, your muscles seizing as the serum wreaked havoc within you.

The voices around you became distant, muffled by the roaring in your ears. You couldn't make out what they were saying, but their tone was one of cold observation, detached from the suffering they were causing.

"Her body's reacting... but the patterns aren't consistent. It’s hard to tell if it’s working or if she’s just... rejecting it."

"Increase the dosage," the man ordered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched your writhing form. "We need to push her further. If there's any sign of success, we'll see it soon enough."

"But sir," one of the lab technicians hesitated, his voice uncertain. "If we push too hard, she might not survive the next round. The readings are already erratic—she could go into shock or worse."

"That’s a risk I’m willing to take," the man replied coldly. "We won’t know until we push her limits."

Your heart sank at his words. There was no end to this. They were going to keep pushing, keep testing, until either the serum took hold of your body or gave out entirely.

As you lay there, barely conscious, the pain began to ebb slightly, leaving you trembling and drenched in sweat. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your chest heaving as you tried to cling to consciousness.

"Prepare the next dose," the man ordered, his voice devoid of any empathy.

This time, your heart sank even deeper. The nightmare wasn’t just beginning—it was accelerating, and there was no way out. You were trapped in this hell, at the mercy of those who saw you as nothing more than an experiment, a means to an end. And whether or not the serum was taking effect, you knew that whatever happened next would push you to your breaking point—and beyond.

DAY EIGHTY

When you woke, the familiar chill of the metal table greeted you. The room was as stark and clinical as ever, but something had changed within you. The pain was still there, a constant, gnawing presence, but it no longer controlled you. You had become accustomed to it, numb to its bite. It was just another part of your existence now.

Eighty days.

Eighty days of torment, of relentless experimentation, of feeling your body and mind pushed to their breaking points and beyond. You had lost track of time somewhere around the third week, the days and nights blending into a seamless blur of agony and darkness. But even as the days passed, you remained conscious, aware—alive.

The door to the room opened, and you didn’t bother to turn your head. You knew who it was. The man with the cold eyes approached, his footsteps echoing on the hard floor. He had become a constant in your world, his presence as regular as the pain he inflicted. 

“You’re still with us, I see,” he remarked, his tone as detached as ever. He moved closer, inspecting the restraints that held you down. “Most impressive.”

You didn’t respond. You hadn’t spoken in days—there was nothing left to say. Every word, every plea had fallen on deaf ears. You had learned long ago that silence was your only companion in this hell.

“Her vitals are stronger,” a technician noted, glancing at the monitors that tracked your every heartbeat. “We’ve noticed a significant increase in her strength and resilience. The serum seems to be taking effect.”

The man nodded, though there was no satisfaction in his expression. “Eighty days,” he mused, as if talking to himself. “Eighty days, and you’re still here. Stronger, faster… more than we ever anticipated.”

He turned his gaze to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “But are you in control, I wonder? Or has the serum taken control of you?”

His words hung in the air, but you didn’t flinch. The battle for control was something you fought every day, every hour. The serum coursing through your veins had changed you in ways you couldn’t fully understand yet, but you were still you—or so you told yourself.

“Let’s see if we can push it further,” he said, signaling to the technician.

The restraints were released, and you felt the cold metal slide away from your wrists and ankles. You didn’t move, not yet. You had learned to conserve your strength, to hold back until the moment was right.

“Sit up,” he commanded.

You obeyed, slowly raising yourself into a seated position. Your movements were deliberate, controlled. You could feel the power coursing through your body, every muscle coiled with potential energy, but you kept it in check.

The man stepped back, giving you space, watching you closely. “Stand.”

You slid off the table, your bare feet touching the cold floor. You stood, swaying slightly as the blood rushed to your head. But you remained upright, your gaze locked on the man who had been your tormentor for nearly three months.

“Walk,” he ordered, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

You took a step forward, then another. Your legs were shaky at first, but you quickly found your balance. Each movement felt strange, foreign, as if you were inhabiting a body that wasn’t entirely your own. But you continued, step after step, until you were standing directly in front of him.

“Good,” he said, nodding approvingly. “Very good.”

He reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch was light, almost gentle, but you could sense the underlying threat in it. “Now, let’s see just how far we can take this.”

You didn’t react as he motioned for the guards to step forward, their weapons at the ready. You knew what was coming next. This was another test, another attempt to push you beyond your limits.

The guards surrounded you, their faces expressionless, their grips tight on their weapons. The man gave a slight nod, and they moved as one, striking out at you with calculated precision.

But this time, you were ready. The serum had done its work. You were faster, stronger, and as their blows came toward you, you reacted with a speed that surprised even you. You deflected the first strike with ease, the second with even greater efficiency. Your movements were fluid, instinctual, a dance of power and precision.

Within moments, the guards were on the ground, groaning in pain, their weapons scattered across the floor. You stood over them, breathing heavily, your heart pounding with adrenaline. The power surging through you was intoxicating, overwhelming, but you were in control. For now.

The man watched you with a hint of something in his eyes—respect, maybe, or perhaps something more sinister.

“Yes,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

You stood there, the blood rushing in your ears, your body alive with the thrill of what you had just done. But beneath it all, there was a gnawing sense of unease. You had changed, become something different, something more. But at what cost?

As the guards were dragged away, the man turned to you once more. “Eighty days,” he repeated, a slight smile playing on his lips. “And now, the real work begins.”

You didn’t respond. You had nothing left to say. The battle was far from over, and as you looked into the cold, calculating eyes of your captor, you knew that whatever came next would push you even further into the darkness.

But you were ready. Because after eighty days of hell, you had learned one thing—you would survive, no matter what.

DAY 100

The pain had reached a point where it was almost surreal, as if your mind had detached itself from your body to protect what was left of your sanity. You lay strapped to the cold metal table, your skin clammy, your breaths shallow. The serum that had been forced into your veins was taking its final toll. Your vision blurred, the edges of your world darkening as you teetered on the brink of consciousness.

The man with the cold eyes stood over you, his expression hard as he watched the monitors tracking your vitals. He had been relentless, pushing the experiments further each day, determined to force the serum to work. But today, something was different. The lines on the monitor were becoming erratic, your heart rate spiking and dipping unpredictably.

"Her vitals are deteriorating rapidly," a technician warned, his voice tinged with anxiety. "She's not stabilizing. We should stop."

The man clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. "We’re too close. Increase the dosage."

"But sir, she won't survive—"

"Do it!" he barked, cutting off the protest.The technician hesitated for a moment before injecting you with another dose of the glowing serum. The liquid fire surged through your veins, and the world around you exploded into pain once again. But this time, it was different—this time, your body couldn’t take it.

You convulsed violently on the table, the restraints digging into your skin as your body fought a losing battle. Your vision darkened further, the room around you fading into an indistinct blur. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, a desperate rhythm that couldn’t keep pace with the assault on your system.

And then, it stopped. The world around you went silent. your life flashed before your eyes, beginning with the warmth of your childhood—the comforting embrace of your mother as she read you stories at night, the sound of her laughter filling your small apartment in Brooklyn. You remembered the day you met Steve, the shy, awkward boy who had tripped over his own feet trying to impress you, and Bucky’s teasing grin as he nudged Steve forward, encouraging him to finally ask you out. There were memories of long summer days spent in the park, the three of you inseparable, sharing ice cream and dreams of the future.

But then, the memories shifted. The warmth drained away as you saw Steve walking away from you, his back turned, his footsteps echoing in the empty space between you. . .

“Dispose of the body.”

× × × ×

D - 100

When you woke up this time, you weren’t in the cold, sterile room. Instead, you were lying in an alley, discarded like trash. The hard, wet pavement was unforgiving against your body, and the chill in the air bit through your clothes. You don’t know what day or even month it was.

Your once neat and tidy outfit was now torn and filthy, covered in grime and dirt from the alleyway. The lavender shirtwaist dress you had worn so proudly earlier was now barely recognizable, stained with mud and who knows what else.

Your hair, once carefully styled, was now a tangled mess, strands sticking to your face, damp with sweat and the moisture of the night. You could feel the grit and dirt under your nails, the remnants of your struggle to free yourself from whatever hellish place you had been held. Your hands were scraped and raw, the skin broken and bleeding in places.

Your face felt gritty, as if you’d been dragged through the dirt. As you lifted a hand to touch your cheek, you could feel the rough texture of dried blood and dirt clinging to your skin. Your body aches all over, every muscle sore from the strain of whatever had been done to you. The cold dusk air bit into your exposed skin, making you shiver as you struggled to push yourself up from the ground.

The street was dimly lit, the sound of distant traffic the only sign of life around you. The once-familiar streets of Brooklyn now felt alien and hostile, and in your current state, you felt like a ghost haunting the city you once knew.

You stood there, shivering and alone, the reality of your situation sank in. Whoever had taken you had done something to you—something that had changed you. But they had deemed you a failure, or perhaps an afterthought, and simply left you to fend for yourself.

You felt stronger, different, but the overwhelming sense of abandonment weighed heavily on your heart. You looked down at your hands, trembling as you tried to comprehend what had happened to you.

Just as you began to move, your disheveled appearance caught the attention of a group of men lurking in the shadows. They saw an easy target—someone weak, vulnerable, alone. Their eyes locked onto you, and you could feel their gazes crawling over you like a predator sizing up its prey. But they had no idea what they were about to face.

“Hey, look what we got here,” one of them called out, his voice dripping with malice. He stepped forward, a smirk spreading across his face as he took in your bedraggled state. “You look like you’ve had a rough night, sweetheart.”

Another man snickered, his eyes narrowing as he moved to block your path. “Where you headed in such a hurry? We could keep you company.”

The men began to circle you, cutting off any chance of escape. Their leers and mocking laughter echoed off the walls of the alley, making your skin crawl. You backed away, your heart racing, but they kept closing in, their intent all too clear.

One of them reached out to grab your arm, but before his hand could make contact, something snapped inside you. The fear that had gripped you earlier was replaced by a cold, detached resolve. 

With a sudden burst of strength, you lashed out, your fist connecting with the man’s jaw. The impact sent him reeling backward, blood spurting from his mouth. He stumbled, crashing into a pile of trash cans with a loud clatter, his smug expression replaced by shock.

The other men hesitated, their bravado faltering as they realized you were not the helpless victim they had assumed. But their hesitation quickly turned to anger, and they surged forward, determined to make you pay for their friend’s humiliation.

But they didn’t stand a chance.

With a newfound power surging through your veins, you moved like a force of nature. You dodged their clumsy attempts to grab you, your movements fluid and precise. Every strike you landed sent them staggering back, their groans of pain filling the air.

One man lunged at you, his hands reaching for your throat, but you ducked under his grasp, spinning on your heel to deliver a powerful kick to his midsection. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of him, and he crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath.

Another man tried to grab you from behind, but you twisted out of his grip, your elbow slamming into his ribs with a sickening crack. He howled in pain, clutching his side as he fell to his knees.

The last man standing looked at you with wide, fearful eyes, his confidence shattered. “What the hell are you?” he stammered, backing away.

You stared at him, feeling that cold detachment settle over you once more. “Someone you should never have messed with,” you replied, your voice calm and steady.

Without another word, you stepped forward and struck him with a swift, powerful punch. He didn’t have time to react before he was sent crashing to the ground, unconscious.

As you stood there, surrounded by the groaning forms of the men who had tried to attack you, the reality of what you had just done began to sink in. You had taken them down with ease, without even thinking. The fear that had gripped you earlier was gone, replaced by something else—something darker, more dangerous.

You looked down at your hands, trembling slightly as you tried to process what had just happened. They were bruised and dirty, knuckles bloodied from the fight, but they were steady, powerful. You weren’t the same person who had been taken from the streets and subjected to whatever hellish experiment had been done to you.

You were stronger now, and that strength came with a cold, hard edge that scared you as much as it empowered you.

But there was no time to dwell on it. You needed to get out of there, to find somewhere safe where you could figure out what had been done to you. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before you began to walk away from the alley, leaving the men behind.

As you disappeared into the early morning light, the realization that you were truly alone settled in your heart. You had been discarded, left to fend for yourself. But you would survive this. You would become stronger, faster, more powerful than anyone who had ever underestimated you.

And if Steve had truly discarded you as well, if he had moved on and left you behind, then you would prove that you didn’t need him—or anyone else.

By the time the sun began to rise, you were no longer the same person who had waited at that restaurant, hoping for a fresh start. The flame that once burned brightly for Steve had turned to cold, hardened embers.

You vowed never to let anyone discard you again.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, you trudged through the streets, your skin a canvas of bruises and cuts, each one a testament to the brutality you had endured. The world around you seemed surreal, almost detached, as if you were walking through a twisted dream. 

People noticed you—how could they not? Their eyes lingered a fraction too long before they darted away, some filled with pity, others with fear or disgust. Concerned mothers pulled their children closer, shielding them from the sight of you as if you were a monster, something to be feared and avoided. Whispers followed you like a shadow, just out of earshot but thick with judgment, dripping with the cruelty of strangers who saw only the surface.

No one approached you. No one dared. The stares didn’t bother you. In fact, you welcomed them. Let them look, let them fear. You would not be pitied. You would not be scorned. If the world wanted to see you as a monster—then so be it. 

As you walked, a familiar part of town began to come into view. You knew these streets well, every crack in the sidewalk, every faded storefront. It had been a place of comfort, of familiarity—but now it felt foreign, like you were an intruder in a place that no longer belonged to you.

Then, through the blur of people, you saw her. Your mother. She stood on the corner, frantically handing out pieces of paper with your picture on them, her eyes scanning every face that passed by, desperate and searching

When her gaze landed on you, her expression shifted—first to shock, then to fear, relief, and heartbreak that hit you like a punch to the gut. Your heart clenched, a pang of pity slicing through the wall you’d built around yourself. You had steeled yourself against so much, but seeing her there, so fragile, so broken, was almost too much to bear.

“M-Mom?” Your voice cracked, a betrayal of the emotions you fought so hard to suppress. For a split second, you felt like yourself again, but then that cold voice in your head reminded you: no tears, no weakness.

She rushed toward you, disbelief widening her eyes, her hand trembling as she covered her mouth in shock.

“Y/N? Is that you?” she gasped, her voice trembling.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to speak as she reached out to you. Her hands, trembling, cupped your face, her touch so familiar yet so foreign. Tears welled in her eyes as she took in your appearance.

“What… what happened to you?” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.

The tears in her eyes reflected the pain you had tried so hard to bury. But you couldn’t let it out—not now. Not after everything.

“I’m fine,” you managed to say, though the words felt hollow. You pulled away from her touch, the warmth of it almost too painful to bear.

“No, you’re not,” she insisted, her voice shaking as she looked you up and down, trying to understand what had happened to her daughter. “Who did this to you? Where have you been?”

You shook your head, the emotions churning inside you too chaotic to form into coherent thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied, your voice colder than you intended. “I just need to go home.”

Your mother’s brow furrowed, as she looked at you with a mother’s instinctive fear. “No, we need to take you to the hospital. You need to be checked out, Y/N. You’re hurt—”

“No!” you snapped, the force of your voice startling both of you, desperation in your tone, “No hospitals, no police report.”

“Y/N, please. You need help. We have to tell someone—”

Help? No one helped. 

“I said no!” you repeated, your voice trembling with an intensity that silenced her. “They won’t help. They’ll just ask questions, questions I can’t answer. They won’t understand, Mom. No one will.”

“But, Y/N—”

“I don’t need a doctor. I don’t need the police. I just need to go home. Please, Mom… just take me home.” Your breath came faster, panic rising in your chest as the thought of being in a hospital, of facing the police and their endless probing, became unbearable. 

Her face crumpled with worry, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she wrapped her arms around you, holding you tightly as if trying to shield you from whatever had hurt you. 

Slowly, she nodded, though her worry was still palpable. “Okay. Okay, we’ll go home. But promise me… promise me that if you need help, you’ll let me know. Just… don’t shut me out.”

You nodded, but the motion felt distant, like it didn’t quite belong to you. “I promise,” you whispered, though even as the words left your mouth, they felt empty, a hollow reassurance to ease her fears.

× × × × 

The rain poured down like icy needles, but you barely felt it through your black raincoat. Across the street, through the glowing window, Steve and Peggy danced together, they danced together like a well-rehearsed melody, a song you had once known by heart but now could only hear as a distant echo. Their connection was a knife, twisting in the hollowed-out space where your heart used to be.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms as you stood there, seething. Every drop of rain that pelted against your coat felt like a reminder of the cold, hard truth—you had been replaced. Forgotten. Left to rot in the streets while he found comfort in another’s arms.

Your anger simmered, bubbling up from the depths of your chest. You had been willing to fight for him, to stand by his side no matter what. But what had that loyalty gotten you? Abandonment. Betrayal? And now, as you watched them dance, that anger solidified into something colder, harder.

“Y/L/N.” a deep commanding voice called your name.

Two officials stood in the shadows, their presence barely registering as you finally tore your gaze away from the window. They weren’t there for the party—they were there for you. Without a word, you pushed past them and joined their side.

[fashionteahouse]

hi lovely !!! paul x reader who’s always sleepy and is known for nodding off constantly and always being tired despite the pack’s high energy ?? 💗💗

hi honey! working right on this 💜 hope you enjoy :)

24 hours - paul x reader

Gathered around the table, you sat out on a game of cards. Bets were being placed, loud cackles was the main source of noice, and rattles of the wooden tables were there from the boy’s large hands. Their imprints were next to them participating as well. You tried your best to follow your eyes to watch what was happening but your yawning mixed with watery eyes made it a tad bit difficult.

You placed your hand under your chin, trying your best to keep your head up. Soon when your hand started to get irritated from the stagnant state, you lean back in your chair. Eyes droopy, your head involuntarily tried to droop but you jerked yourself up to try to wake yourself.

Paul placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a look of concern.

“If you’re tired, you can sleep on the couch.”

“I already took a cat nap.” you say.

This makes Paul laugh and turn his attention to the rest of the players, “That’s how bad you all suck.”

Scoffs and snickers surround the table now, as they swim in the river of denial.

“She would fall asleep on a rollercoaster.” Embry says.

“Not true.” you say, cracking a smile and playfully rolling your eyes.

The game resumes, picking up the high energy back into place. It was a never ending battle of yawning, blinking your eyes open, trying to steady your balance from dozing off.

You hadn’t noticed your eyes closed and asleep until you hear clapping and you’re clapping as well, hoping no one noticed. They all stop clapping and laugh. No one was close to winning.

“Leave her alone.” Paul says but he could barely hold it together. You rub your eyes with the heel of your hands.

“How could you sleep with their big mouths?” Emily asks surprised in a way. She needed peace and quiet when she wanted to sleep. You just shrug and mutter a “I’m just always tired.”

“How much you want to bet if Y/N actually sleeps for a full 24 hours, they would still doze off.” Jared says nudging Embry. They shake on it.

[russo-woso]

hi, do you write for Niamh Charles? if so, maybe one where reader makes her debut for England and scores the winning goal but then ends up injured pretty badly in the game and Niamh realizes her feelings for her?

Yes, I do write for Niamh! I love Niamh, except for the fact she plays for Chelsea, but anyways, here is I really really like you.

I really really like you | Niamh Charles

Warning slight injury, and just Niamh being protective.

Summary You and Niamh announce your love for one another after an eventful match

Over the past two weeks, the only thing you could think about was England camp.

You had received your first England call up from Sarina for the matches against The Netherlands and Scotland.

You knew it was bound to come at some point. You had been playing exceptionally well for Manchester City and England’s U23.

At just age 22, you were Manchester City’s first choice as CAM.

You were excited to be playing with the seniors, the feeling of being at a sold out Wembley, but also to see a certain defender.

Niamh Charles.

You had barely spoken to Niamh. You shared a few sentences, if you could even call it that, when playing against Chelsea.

You weren’t going to deny it, you couldn’t deny it because it was so obvious, you had a huge crush on Niamh.

From the way her hair falls when she takes it out in matches, to the way how her hand feels in yours when you shake hands.

You didn’t know why you liked Niamh, I mean, she’d never like you back. Would she?

————————

You travelled down to St George’s Park with the city girls.

It was a relatively easy drive down. There was no traffic, but as soon as you got there, you wish there had of been.

Your heart was racing.

Thoughts went rushing through your mind. What if you didn’t play good? What if Sarina made a mistake inviting you into the squad? What if you embarrass yourself in front of Niamh?

“Y/N, you coming?” Esme asked you as she started to walk inside, quickly stopping to look back at you.

“Yeah.” You replied, hesitancy in your voice.

“Y/N/N, you’ll do fine. I know it’s a big change and thoughts are running through your mind right now. But you belong here.” Esme told you, quickly hugging you before walking inside.

You followed her in, dragging your suitcase behind you.

You enter the lobby first, finding out who your roommate was.

You were roommates with her.

You grabbed your keycard, making your way up to the second floor, before lightly tapping it on your door.

It granted you access, and you walked inside hesitantly.

“Hi, it’s Y/N, isn’t it? I’m Niamh.” Niamh welcomed you into the room. You couldn’t help but notice how voice stuttered a few times when she spoke.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N, it’s nice to properly meet you. I feel like we’re always in such a rush after matches that I’ve never really met you.” You joked and Niamh agreed with a small laugh.

It was already late by the time you had gotten there so you were already tired and ready to get to sleep.

“Everyone’s going down to the relaxation room just now if you want to come.” Niamh asked, playing with the hairs on the back of her neck.

“I would but it’s been a long journey down here and I’m tired so I might just head to bed.” You explained, also stuttering some of your words due to being so nervous.

“Are you sure?” She questioned, just double checking, and you replied with a smile and a nod. “Okay, well, sleep well.”

With that, she left the room, the door clicking shut.

The only thing that replayed on your mind was the conversation, the way how your voice stuttered as you spoke to her.

She had to know that you liked her now, with the stuttering, the sweat that was starting to build up on your forehead.

After sitting in a silence whilst you thought back of your previous conversation, a small beeping in noice was heard from the door and it opened.

Niamh walked inside and you gave her a confused look.

“I couldn’t leave you here alone. Not when it’s your first night.” Niamh explained and you shook your head at her explanation, guilt washing all over your body.

“Niamh, no, seriously I’m fine. You go downstairs if you want to.” You told her

“Everyone down there’s boring. And anyway, we’ll be stuck with them for the next week so one night not seeing them will do me good.” She justified and settled herself on her bed. “I thought we could find a film to watch.”

And that’s exactly what you did. You both agreed on a movie and spoke the entire night.

The tiredness you felt completely went away as you spoke to Niamh.

You spoke, you laughed, you told stories.

It was safe to say that you didn’t just like Niamh anymore, you were utterly in love with her.

————————

The rest of the week sped by, with training taking up the mornings and then spending the afternoon with your new friends.

Over the week, You quickly befriended Alessia Russo and Ella Toone. The duo quickly becoming a trio.

You got along with them well and you spent most of your afternoons with them.

The week had sped by so quickly, that you were all currently on your way to Wembley.

On the way, Sarina announced the lineup.

Sarina didn’t read out your name but assured you that would definitely be subbed on later on in the game.

Niamh, who was sat next to you on the coach, cheered for you, and rested her head on your shoulder.

“I’m so happy for you. Your first England debut.” Niamh said, looking up at you.

“Thanks, Niamhy.”

————————

The team had down amazing to come back.

At half time, they were down 2-0, but with two goals in two minutes, they were now equal with the Netherlands.

In the 68’, Sarina told you and Alessia to take off your bibs.

You stood with her as she told you tactics she had picked up.

Whilst waiting for the ball to go out of play, Alessia stood next to you.

It was so cold that you were basically cuddled up to one another.

She congratulated you on my debut, patting you on my back as the announcement was made.

It was announced you’d be subbed off for Georgia.

She ran off the pitch high fiving you, before you ran on.

The game continued and there was still no goals come the 90’.

You had been playing incredibly, proving to everyone why Sarina had called you up.

In the first minute of injury time, Lauren James crossed the ball into the box and you were in a perfect position to run onto it.

Without taking a touch, you nutmegged the Dutch keeper and the ball ended up being in the back of the net.

Your teammates surrounded you, enveloping you in a hug.

Once everyone pulled away, Niamh pulled you in again.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N/N.” She whispered in your ear.

“Thank you, Niamhy.” You said, using the nickname you’d given her.

You noticed her cheeks flush a light red and with the confidence you felt, you pressed your lips onto the red pigment before running back to your position.

Two minutes later, you had another chance in the penalty box.

Lucy played a long ball into the box and you jumped to header it.

The next thing you knew, something connected with your head but it wasn’t the ball.

The Dutch keeper had jumped up to punch the ball away but instead, had punched you.

You fell to the floor limply as blood made it way from your nose.

You groaned in pain and your hand went flying to your nose and you head.

Alessia was the first one to you, crouching down and stroking your hair to comfort you.

Everything was blurry, you couldn’t think straight but all you could think of was Niamh.

All you wanted was Niamh.

Instead of going straight to you, Niamh marched over to the keeper, Daphne van Domselaar, and pushed her straight to the floor.

“Look what you’ve done to her! You fucking bitch!” Niamh shouted at Daphne.

You winced at the sudden shouting, the pain searing through your head.

“Niamh, I want Niamh.” You managed to get out to Alessia.

As the medics got to you, Alessia left to get Niamh for you.

Within seconds, Niamh was crouched down next to you.

She gently picked up your head, getting approval from the medics, and laid it in her lap.

You reached out for her hand, which she squeezed lightly.

“Y/N/N, you’re so brave. You’re going to be okay, I promise.” She said, tears running down her cheeks as she stroked your hair.

Your teammates gathered round, awing at you and Niamh.

They were certain that by tomorrow morning, you and Niamh would be a couple.

The medics put you onto the stretcher and lifted you upwards.

You watched as Niamh was taken aside by the ref and was given a red card.

Niamh accepted the red card. One, she thought Daphne deserved what she got, even if it wasn’t her fault, and two, she got to be with you whilst you were treated.

She ran to catch up with you and the medics, taking your hand in hers and walked towards the tunnel.

————————

“Why did you do it?” You asked Niamh once the medics had gone.

They had confirmed that you had a broken nose and a concussion.

“Do what?” Niamh asked back, giving you a sympathetic look as she looked at the stained blood on your face.

“Punch Van Domselaar. Get a red card. She didn’t do it on purpose.” You said and Niamh looked down at the floor. “Niamhy.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Niamh whispered, barely being able to hear herself, let alone you.

“Why?” Confusion took over your face, not knowing why she didn’t want you to call her that.

“Because it kills me to hear you say it when I know you don’t like me. It kills me thinking back to tonight when you were on the floor. It kills me to think about our late night conversation when I know that after camp, everything will go back to normal.” Niamh revealed and once more, tears fell from her eyes.

“Niamh, what makes you think I don’t like you back?” You asked, as her head jerked upwards, revealing her blue eyes, full of hope. “I’ve liked you since I played against you for the first time. The amount of times I’ve Instagram stalked you just so I can see your smile. It’s killed me knowing this past week that we’ve grown closer and closer but I’ll never be able to call you mine.”

“You like me back?”

“Of course I do Niamhy. Who wouldn’t? You are the most kindest, most beautiful, loving person I’ve ever met, with a hint of protectiveness…” you joked, referring to the events early tonight. “…Who wouldn’t like you back? Definitely not me. I really really like you, Niamh. I have done for a while.”

“I really really like you too.” She said, a huge smile appearing on her face as she inched closer to your face.

You could practically feel her breath on your lips as she stopped her movements.

You took the final step in connecting your lips.

It was so gentle, both of you too scared to move, trying not to overwhelm one another. And the fact you’ve got a broken nose.

“Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Of course, Niamhy.”

[normal-person-i-promise]

public transport

arataka reigen x fem!reader

half of it is edited, at least. this has been sitting in my drafts, half done, since march. im sick of working on it, so you get this. sorgy

The sudden jerk of the train starting takes you by surprise, and you nearly fall down — had it not been for the fact that someone gripped your upper arms tightly before your face could connect with the cold, hard floor.

You look up quickly, your face heating when you realize who it is.

★ ★ ★

The familiar "whoosh" of the bus's old doors opening greets you warmly as you step inside, unsurprised to find almost all seats — save for one — vacant. Late nights are always lonely — it's always dark, empty, quiet — but today, there's another person on the bus with you.

He... Looks like the guy you saw on TV some time ago, though in a more... Tired state. Messy blonde hair, unbuttoned grey suit, loose pink tie — he's sitting in the back-most seat, his eyes, heavy with fatigue, transfixed on the window.

He didn't noice you come in.

You stand at the door for a little while, adjusting the bag on your shoulders before coming to a realization that sours your expression. That's your usual seat. He took it.

You scowl, making your way to the window seat a few meters away from him and sitting down with as much annoyance that you can muster.

You can hear the sound of the bus's wheels squeak every time they'd go over a bump, shaking the whole vehicle; smell the sour scent of sweat stained clothes from a long day of work; practically taste the citrus cleaning spray the cleaners use too much on the cloth seat covers.

The bus's doors creak closed. The vehicle abruptly jerks forward, a start, before its motion becomes steady. You settle into your seat, adjusting yourself until you're comfortable, feeling the worn fabric beneath your fingertips as you steady yourself.

As the bus picks up speed, you find your gaze drawn to the man.

His features are... Sharp, though not so much as to look intimidating; his eyes are half-moons as they stare longingly out the window, not taking in the view, more like just... Staring blankly; his breathing — visible from the rise and fall of his chest — is slow and steady, calm; and his nose is pointed, low, coming to a point just above those soft, kissable lips...

...

...Drat.

You clear your throat as if it'll clear your mind. Curse your tiredness, making your thoughts... Inappropriate.

You shift your bag in your lap, trying to distract yourself with the way the strap falls, the feeling of the stitching on the edges.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the man turn his head to face you. His eyes roam down your body before dragging themselves back up to your face, and, noticing your irate expression (due to the fact that he took YOUR seat), he raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side.

He looks at you curiously, scanning your features as the bus bounces up and down when the wheels go over the bumpy road.

He seems to pause, almost hesitate.

"Good to know I'm not the only one with late nights," he says, a grin playing on his lips.

God, his voice...!

"Same here," you mumble, keeping your eyes set on the window to avoid looking into his.

You both slip onto a comfortable silence again, all quiet except for the sound of the bus moving along the tar road, making those distinct noises you've almost memorized.

You can sort of ignore him now, focusing only on the view outside.

It's... Peaceful. At this time of night, there are little people on the streets — those who are still awake are the drunkards, stumbling back to their homes; and the office workers, their gaits slow and steady, tired from the long day of work.

The shops are all closed, and though shutters are pulled down, the colourful lights of their signs remain on; blues, reds, and whites paint the sidewalk a kaleidoscope of colours, one you've never noticed until now. Your eyes roam from the colourful concrete to the signs whizzing past the bus in a blur, your eyes struggling to read the letters.

"What's your name, by the way?"

You're brought out of your thoughts at his question. His voice is strangely soft, his tone understandably wary as you turn your head to face him.

You introduce yourself, and he nods. He tests your name out on his tongue, humming in delight — as though he just tasted something sweet.

"Arataka Reigen, greatest psychic of the 21st century!"

His introduction is over the top, his voice like a salesman's as he spins his hand — so fast that's it's all a blur — before he abruptly stops, bringing it up for you to shake. He flashes you a charming grin, one that makes your cheeks flush.

You take his hand, savouring the feeling of his worn fingers wrapping around yours as he shakes it.

And, leaning in close enough to smell the sharp cologne his wears and said in a low whisper, "But you can call me Arataka."

Arataka leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest in pride as he grins at your flushed cheeks.

"It's the first time I'm seeing another soul at this time of night," he remarks, tightening his tie absentmindedly, almost like an unconscious fidget of sorts. You nod in response. You watch as his fingers wrap around the pink fabric of his tie slowly, getting a better grip before pulling it close to his neck, adjusting it to make sure it's not too tight.

You clear your throat again, averting your gaze.

"I'm... Honestly surprised to find another person coming home from work this late," you parrot, gritting your teeth as you focus on the window. Stop staring, stop staring...

He hums in amusement before it's quiet once more, broken only by the sounds of the bus's engine working to keep the vehicle moving.

It stays like this for a while. Both your gazes are fixed on the window, staring at the buildings passing by in a watercolour blur.

The city is... Nicer? You can't tell whether it's because you have a handsome man sitting across from you, or because it really does look prettier, but all the lights seem... Dreamier than usual, all the tree's leaves a few shades greener.

You can't help but notice his eyes flicker to yours every few minutes, though you never manage to see it directly.

"The city's quite pretty tonight," You mumble to yourself, staring out the window as you adjust yourself in your seat.

Arataka's next words are barely audible, just above a whisper — and his voice is quiet enough for you to be sure that you weren't supposed to hear it, like he was just saying something to himself.

"Sort of like you."

Your heart skips a beat.

"What did you say?"

Your tone is curious as your gaze settles on him again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes sparkling with the lights outside the window.

You can visibly see him get nervous: he breaks out into a sweat, his shoulders stiffening as he brings up the sleeve of his jacket to dry the beads of perspiration trickling down his forehead, his tone rushed and panicked.

"A-ah, hahaa—! What? I didn't say anything!"

You can hear the nervous grin on his face as he avoids your gaze, clearing his throat loudly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"You must've been hearing things! Those pesky spirits..."

Arataka clicks his tongue, scowling at the empty space above your shoulder for a moment before changing his expression to a neutral one again, bringing his eyes back to yours. The speed at which he gains and loses confidence is enough to give you whiplash — not that you mind, though.

"I can get rid of them for you," he says, with total confidence. He's grinning proudly, almost puffing his chest out a little.

It's... Endearing, if you can say that.

You pause, arching a brow at him in confusion.

"Get... Rid of...?"

Have you never heard of psychics before...?

He nods briskly, pointing a thumb at himself in pride. His mannerisms and movements are precise and swift, enough to get you to think he's done this kind of thing hundreds of times in the past.

"You're talking to a world renowned psychic, here."

...There's a beat of silence, save for the sound of the bus going over a bump.

"World... Renowned?" You parrot, your tone confused. You've... Never heard of this man in your life, this... Arataka Reigen.

He pauses for a moment, his jaw going slack and his hand falling a little before he quickly closes his mouth, his expression almost like he's laughing in disbelief.

"A-ah, yes, yes, world renowned! I'm known all across the globe! Surely you know my name?"

He sounds a little bit like he's in disbelief, though his voice remains prideful.

You raise your brow higher. He's egotistical, to put it lightly. Egotistical, but so, so handsome...

"I've... Never heard of you before," you say to him, watching in amusement as you wait for his reaction.

"Oh, come on!"

Arataka's voice is now definitely one of disbelief as he groans in exasperation, his voice and expression growing irate.

Surely you've seen his posters...? He told Mob to paste them on any empty surface.

"Never? Not even once?" He almost begs, nearly pleading, a note of desperation creeping into his words as he tries in vain to convince you of something you've already set your mind on.

...Which is to poke fun at him, of course.

You hum in thought, your gaze flickering to the window before bringing it back to meet his. There was one time — a rather embarrassing moment for him, in your opinion.

"...Well, there was this one time I saw him on TV..."

He's quick to cut you off.

"Oh, why— y-yes! Yes, no, no, you haven't heard of me, especially not on TV! No, nope! Never!"

His grin is too wide to be genuine; panicked, and his hands are all over the place — almost as though he's talking with them, too, as he gestures wildly. You can see the sweat droplets fly off his hands, in addition to seeing the light reflected off of them on his forehead.

You look on in amusement.

"I-I'm just your friendly neighbourhood psychic, providing exorcisms at competitive prices! Never been on TV, no sir-ee!"

He's sweating buckets now, his grin thin as he goes on and on and on. He just... Talks, and the only time he pauses in his speech is to take in a greedy mouthful of air before getting right back to his words, coming out of his mouth faster than you can understand them.

And though it is rather cute funny to see him act like this, you decide that it's about time you changed the topic and spare him the embarrassment.

...And it's at this moment exactly that the bus reaches your destination, and you need to get off.

You pause for a moment, double-checking the sign to be sure that it's your street. You're more than a little disappointed to be parting ways with this strange, handsome psychic, this Arataka Reigen.

"Uh... Bye, I guess," you say in mild disappointment. You give him a small smile as you sling your bag over your shoulders, sitting up from your seat.

You're leaving already...? He only just met you, though...

As you make your way to the door, you run your hands along the bus's seats, feeling the fabric beneath your fingertips. It's a sort of a... Habit, now, to touch the seats before you exit, like how you'd run your fingers over a bridge's railing. It delays you a few seconds.

...Wait. It's probably best to give you his card, y'know, for his number and the address of his office...

You're halfway to the bus's doors before Arataka stops you, calling your name, rifling through his suit's pockets and producing a sharp, white business card.

"My business card, for the exorcism I promised you."

He grins, jabbing the card in your face. Taking a moment to compute what he's doing, you quickly take it from him, thanking him. He nods in reply, bidding you 'bye-bye' in a quick, hasty voice once more as he waves you off the bus.

You stare at the card as you step out of the bus, making your way to the little flat you call home.

Arataka Reigen.

Your eyes trail down to the bottom, where you see a phone number.

His phone number.

Arataka's phone number.

★ ★ ★

All week, you stress. Should you call him? This... Mysterious, handsome psychic? What if he doesn't want to talk to you? What if he really did just give you his business card for business?

...The way his cheeks flushed when your hands brushed against each other tells a different story, though...

You're fidgeting with his card in your hands when you enter the train, finding that it's full with people coming home from work, as usual. It's just after sunset — the sun has only just dipped below the horizon, the last traces of its golden light fading as the pinks turn to blues, the blues turning to black.

You look back down to the card in your hands, still not having moved from far the train's doors, open wide.

Arataka Reigen.

Your fingers wrap around the frigid metal off the handle bar by the train's doors, though your grip isn't strong, still lost in your thoughts. You really, really wanna call him, but what if he really did give you his business card only for business? He didn't seem to really... Do anything special, nor did he say anything special. He just treated you like a normal client, it seems.

You're still thinking about how adorable his pink cheeks were, though...

The sudden jerk of the train starting takes you by surprise, and you nearly fall down — had it not been for the fact that someone gripped your upper arms tightly before your face could connect with the cold, hard floor.

You look up quickly, your face heating when you realize who it is.

Arataka.

He says your name in a disbelieving, breathless manner, his eyes wide and his expression awestruck for a moment before coming back to his senses. He startles, letting go of you in the blink of an eye as he lets out a yelp, his cheeks flushed a sweet pink as you feel yours heat in tandem.

He remembers your name.

Arataka remembers your name.

"We meet again," Arataka says awkwardly, the both of you standing in the middle of the train. It's a little hard to keep his voice steady and quiet, but he manages.

That well tailored grey suit of his is neat and ironed, his pink tie tightened and tied properly close to his neck. He looks... Good. Better than on the bus, at least.

You nod, trying to calm down your racing heart.

"...Arataka. This is a... Pleasant surprise."

...And just like that, it's awkward silence again.

At least it's not totally quiet though: there's the rumbling of the train car moving along on its metal rails, the rapid beating of your heart in your ears, your shallow breathing as you try to calm yourself down in vain...

Your eyes trail to the window, watching as the train emerges from the dark tunnel, getting bathed in the lights of the city's night life. There's the faint smell of disinfectant and sweaty clothes in the air.

It's when you almost fall over again that you finally decide to take a seat. Arataka follows suit, taking the seat beside you, seeing as all the other seats are taken.

He's awkward as he settles down in his seat, his side pressed up against yours. He looks either... Embarrassed, or ecstatic, since you're that girl he saw on the bus the other day, the one who made his cheeks flush and his heart beat wildly in his chest. You're that girl he'd given his business card to, the one that he's been waiting so, so patiently for to call, even so little as text him.

After a while, the two of you get comfortable against each other; the warmth of his body brings some sense of comfort to you, and the same to him. You... Fit, there, right by his side. He likes that.

Your eyes are trained on the window; the buildings are whizzing past the train, the yellows and oranges of the city lights blending together to form a pretty little painting. It seems so... Fantastical, and so... Unreal. You've never really paid any attention to the scenery...

The little cars on the roads are but small strokes of a brush on a canvas, their blacks and greys mixing in with the dull colours of the asphalt. There's people on the streets, since it's not too late in the night yet; they're all smoking, partying, drinking, having a good time... Because, after all, it is a Friday night.

...And you're alone.

God, you're pathetic.

You scowl slightly, settling into your seat, your side shifting against Arataka.

Though you don't notice it, Arataka's eyes aren't on the view outside the glass. He's looking at you, studying you, watching as your eyes dart from person to person walking along on the pavement, watching as you shift your bag on your lap to get more comfortable. His eyes are fixed on you as he roams his gaze up and down your body, using his eyes to trace the outline of your comfortable clothing and sighing, almost dreamily so.

You're really pretty.

...It stays like this for a while. Neither of you say anything to eachother, though both your minds are plagued by the other.

You find yourself fidgeting with anything you can — the cloth straps of your bag, the thin strands of your hair, the knuckles of your fingers. It's hard to keep your thoughts from going haywire when Arataka's body is pressed against yours, especially when it's almost quiet enough for him to hear your racing heart.

He, too, is freaking out — his heart is threatening to burst from his chest, his mind reeling so much to the point where it's starting to hurt. The only difference is that he hides it well, and you're... Well, you're not as experienced. And he's definitely noticed.

As he stares at you, Arataka calls your name softly, absentmindedly, and his heart almost stops when your eyes connect with his.

They seem so... So sparkly, so big and wide, taking in everything. They reflect the environment; Arataka can see himself in them as he gathers his thoughts quickly, clearing his throat loudly.

It's hard to form words around you, especially words that aren't 'kiss me', you know that?

"So how've you been?" He asks smoothly, ending his question with your name.

You hum.

"...Good. You?"

Arataka nods, his posture relaxed in relation to yours. He shifts against you, almost leaning against you, and your heart skips a beat.

"Great, yeah."

He begins to gesture with his hands again, something that you've missed seeing a lot more than you'd think you would — especially considering the fact that the only time you've met him is on a bus, late at night, the both of you definitely not thinking straight under the influence of sleep deprivation.

"So how's that spirit of yours holding up? Gotten it rid of already?"

He gestures to your shoulder, his expression neutral as he analyses the empty air. He definitely notices that you haven't done anything about this supposed spirit haunting you.

So you stay quiet for a while, unsure of whether to lie and keep him in this emotional state or tell him the truth and make it worse.

"I, uh... Haven't done anything yet."

...

"You WHAT?!"

The passengers in the train all shush him in unison, and Arataka mumbles a quick 'sorry' before leaning in close to you, shielding his voice from the outside with a hand, almost like children telling each other secrets. It's just an excuse to get closer to you, to be completely honest.

You can barely focus on what he's saying, your cheeks a bright red as you feel his breath ghost over your skin.

"You HAVE to do something about it, I mean—"

He makes small gestures to the space above your shoulder, trying his best not to upset the people beside him. He fails, evident in the way they scowl at him and take a few steps away.

"This thing is dangerous!"

You sigh, leaning a little away from him as you feel the red in your cheeks fade.

"It hasn't done anything, though."

"Hasn't done anything YET," he cuts you off, hissing in a whisper. "You could've DIED!"

He gets shushed again. He sighs in annoyance, leaning away from you and talking in a calmer, quieter voice. He's smooth with it; his words come out naturally, almost instinctually — it doesn't sound like he's been desperate to say those words ever since he met you, and it doesn't sound like he's begging you to say yes.

"How 'bout this, hm? I'm heading to my office right now for a late night job. Why don't you come and I'll get rid of this—" he scowls, swatting the space above your shoulder again —"horrid spirit of yours?"

You pause. It's a... Very, very tempting offer. On one hand, you want to go back home and rest; while on the other, you want to follow this handsome, blonde psychic and see how he'll 'exorcise' this supposed spirit of yours.

You decide quickly, just as a light rain begins to patter on the glass windows.

"Sure, alright," you say, giving him a slight smile. Arataka nods in response, smiling at you, before his gaze trails to the windows where the rain gets heavier and heavier the closer you get to Arataka's office.

"SEE?!" Again, he's shushed.

"This is the work of the spirit!" He says, gesturing to the heavy rain that's now beating aggressively on the window in an unpredictable drumbeat. The people on the streets panic and try to get to shelter, whilst others bring out umbrellas.

You're quiet for a while.

"The... Rain?"

He nods briskly, seriously.

"Spirits can influence things, you see. They range from small events like how hot you heat up your bento, to this," he says grimly, gesturing to the thunder and lightning that has started to strike the ground in bright white flashes across cutting across the grey sky.

"The bigger the event, the more powerful the spirit. And," he says, leaning back more in his seat and crossing his arms, "this is a crazy powerful spirit. It's unwise to leave it alone for so long. It's reacting in this way because we mentioned its existence."

"Oh, okay, that... Right, that makes a lot of sense," you agree slowly, nodding in response to his words. Arataka knows a lot about spirits, it seems.

He grins in triumph, just as the train announces its location and its doors slide open. He gets up, gesturing for you to follow.

"It's just a 15 minute walk," he assures you.

When you get out of the train station, you find that it's still raining heavily. There's that smell of rain, which is nice, and you get lightly showered with the cold droplets as they bounce up and off the pavement and road.

Arataka scowls, groaning under his breath as he takes out a pocket umbrella, clicking it open.

"We'll have to share. It's small because it's meant for one person."

He gestures for you to get under the umbrella. It's... Close. You're very close to him, just like in the train, though, this time, your bodies are only almost touching. The two of you have to shuffle on the ground a little to walk.

As you begin walking, you find yourself walking closer and closer until you're touching sides. Arataka doesn't seem to argue; in fact, he wordlessly slides a tentative hand around your waist, holding you tight to him as the crystal droplets of rain pitter-patter loudly against the tiny clear plastic umbrella he holds. His grip grows more confident and firm the longer his hand is there.

It's quiet when the both of you stop at a crossing, waiting for the cars to clear and the light to turn to the little man, indicating you can walk.

Then a particularly fast car comes along. It's definitely speeding, and when it nears the large puddle of water near the sidewalk, Arataka smoothly pushes you back, bringing the umbrella up to shield you, and only you, from the dirty water.

The dirty rain water splashes at his pants and the droplets from the sky pelt him, causing him to wince slightly. It makes his golden hair to stick to his forehead, makes his expensive grey suit soaked at the shoulders, makes his sleeves dripping wet.

Before you know it, he brings the umbrella up again, and begins walking again without a word. His hand finds itself back to it's position, holding you securely around your waist.

"Thanks," you say. He pauses, turning to look at you.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?! THE RAIN'S TOO LOUD!"

You mutter a quick apology before repeating your thanks, this time shouting. His bewildered expression disappears, smiling cutely as he nods, before he continues walking.

The both of you continue in a comfortable silence for another minute or so before you reach the office. He leads you inside, shaking off the umbrella. The office smells... Really salty, coupled with the expensive scents of some kinds of incense you can't make out.

"Here we are!" He exclaims proudly. "Ah, oh, right. This is my apprentice, Mob."

Arataka places a firm hand on the shoulder of what looks to be a middle schooler with a bowl cut. He waves at you politely, smiling slightly, and you nod in response, waving back.

Arataka unbuttons his jacket and hangs it on the wall, and you have to clench your fists tightly to stop yourself from staring.

"Now," Arataka says smoothly, taking a seat in his chair and looking so, so attractive, "what package shall you take?"

He pulls out a piece of paper, with three courses labelled.

"Option A, the trial course, gets you 20% spirit reduction; option B, the serious course, which gets you 50% spi—"

Mob leans in to whisper something into his ear, and Arataka seems to be taken aback for a moment. He scoffs, hissing in a whisper, "Of COURSE there's a spirit, you just can't see it," which Mob seems to be placated by, going back to his spot reading manga.

Arataka clears his throat, opening his mouth to speak again.

"As I was saying," he glares at Mob, "Option A, the trial course, gets you 20% spirit reduction; option B, the serious course, which gets you 50% spirit reduction; and option C, the all-out course, gets you 99% spirit reduction." He gestures for you to take the seat in front of the desk.

"Of course," he says, grinning just like the hideous poster on the wall, "if it comes back, I'll get rid of it — for 20% off."

Sitting down, you bring the paper close to you...

...And find that every course is above your budget.

You smile nervously, pushing the paper back to him and getting up from your chair. This has clearly been a complete waste of time, especially since it all seems so sketchy, and you've only fallen for it because he's handsome...

"S... Sorry, Arataka," you apologise, bowing slightly once you've gotten up from your chair. "I can't really afford anything."

You move to the door, and it's only a moment later that you hear Arataka scrambling to get out of that fancy office chair, his brow slick with sweat and his words rushing out of his mouth.

"Woah, woah, woah, hey, my success rates are 99.9%! All my clients leave happy!" He cries, a note of desperation in his voice.

You shake your head, smiling politely. "No thanks."

He panics again as you reach for the doorknob. Your movements are slow — so, so slow, and it's definitely apparent that you're just stalling, as if waiting to see if he'll do anything.

He takes advantage of that.

Half stumbling and half sliding in front of you and using his body to block the door, he stands, gathering himself for a moment before—

"H-hey, hey, wait—!"

Arataka grips your shoulders tightly, beginning to massage. You pause, silent, a little taken aback.

"Feels good, right?" He says quietly as you almost melt at his touch. He's standing directly in front of you, staring at— no, studying your face as he moves his fingers in firm, soothing circles. "Like it?"

Your shoulders are absolutely screwed up.

You hum, rolling your joints a little bit. Arataka feels a surge of pride when a chorus of the cracking of your messed up bones fill the air, though he still presses gentle, relieving circles and dots into your skin, pressing enough for you to feel it firmly below the clothing you wear.

His touch, though soft and caring, is... Firm. Very, very firm, very unyielding. It's clear that he knows what he's doing, and it's clear that he's confident that this will work. His fingers are round dots of alleviation as they press softly into your skin, and their movements and placements are careful and calculative.

He grips your shoulders, dragging you slowly, slowly, slowly to the chair in the middle of the room and sitting you down on it.

Now that you're seated, Arataka feels your neck and shoulders a little. He goes round and round your little chair, pressing at this spot and that spot — he's looking for something, it's clear; he's looking for tightness or rigidity beneath your skin, places to apply pressure, places to soothe and fix.

You barely notice how his hands seem to almost lovingly caress you.

"Here?"

He bends down and shifts his hand a little closer to your neck, near that place that always aches when you look down — the base of the movement and the base of the neck itself. You sigh in delight, leaning into his touch — sending waves of butterflies and pride swelling in Arataka. His heart nearly bursts out of his chest as he sees you get more and more relaxed, enjoying his touch. His cheeks flush and a dopey grin adorns his face.

He hums, pressing more firmly and confidently.

It's about a minute later when Arataka retracts his hands almost reluctantly, his fingers lingering on you. You roll your neck and shoulders, sitting up and off the chair.

"I must say, Arataka," you say, shoving him slightly as a sort of playful gesture. His cheeks flush at the contact, a cute little grin on his face.

"That was a great massage."

His grin grows prideful, jabbing a thumb at himself proudly.

"You're talking to the greatest psychic of the 21st century, here!"

You sigh, almost dreamily so, as Arataka begins to go on and on and on about all his achievements, his accomplishments, his goals...

...

You pause. You have to pay — you can't just get caught up in his silly little endearing antics again.

"Um, Arataka?"

You interrupt him as he's talking proudly about himself, and he stares at you, a little confused and a little annoyed. He doesn't really care if it's you, though.

You gesture to the paper on the desk, the one with all the courses and prices. Your tone is regretful; you shouldn't have fallen so easily for such a blatant scam, c'mon, you're smarter than this...

"I can't pay. I didn't bring enough money."

Arataka pauses. Gears seem to turn in his head for a moment before his eyes light up, another one of those adorable horrible grins settling on his face again.

"Tell you what."

He tries to lean on the wall, finds that it's too far, and stumbles instead. He clears his throat, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

"Instead of paying, how about you..."

His grin widens as he pauses for dramatic effect. You wait patiently.

He's not actually pausing for dramatic effect, though; he's trying to get time to prepare what his tone will be, how his body language will look, how loud and confident his voice is...

It's a really, really long pause.

"...Go on a date with me?"

A date? With him? Mob's just sitting on the little couch in the corner of the room when he looks up from his manga, intrigued by the word 'date'.

Great. Now you've got a 14-year-old's pressure on your back.

You hum for a moment, thinking, as though your answer will be anything but a resounding yes. Your cheeks are flushed, but so are his once he hears what you say in response.

"Yes, please."

His grin widens in absolute joy, and he puts his hands harshly, securely in his pockets to prevent himself from grabbing you by the collar and sloppily kissing you right now.

He opens and closes his mouth to speak multiple times before he decides on what to say. He looks so, so happy — his eyes are wide and full of wonder, his grin is big and silly, and his cheeks are that same sweet pink as on the bus.

"Saturday? Saturday, 8:00 PM?"

You nod.

And waving goodbye as you open the door to leave, "I'll see you on Saturday."

[fluffhuntress]

Little Savior - Gekko x Reader

I just love the idea of Gekko's creatures feeling, that there is something between Y/n and him, and them wanting to have your attention, help you or protect you... my heart. God.

The moment you defused the spike, you finally could let go. Your head felt dizzy, you could feel the gunshot wound burn on your thigh. The team would be there soon, so you sat under the wall, putting pressure on the wound, waiting for some help. Suddenly though, everything started to fade black.

Your eyes opened the moment you felt something poking your thigh, making weird noices. You've noticed it was Gekko's Wingamn.

"H-hey buddy, what are you doing there?" You murmured quietly. This little creature immidiately jumped closer to you, as it heard your voice. He was scratching your chest, as if he was trying to keep you awake.

It wasn't long after that when you've heard Gekko's voice. "Oye! Wingman, found something?" And when he noticed Wingman and you under the wall, he immidiately ran straight to you.

"I got you, it's okay..." He kneeled before you, scanning your whole body. You smiled at him, patting Wingman on it's head. "I'll be fine!"

There was a bit of worry in Gekko's eyes, but he could tell that you'll be fine. He hated to see you in pain, and seeing you there sitting, barely conscious, felt like hell. You were so important to him, he would do anything to have you safe and unharmed all the time. He only didn't know how to say it.

"Come on, let's go patch you up" He said, reaching his hand to you, and you grabbed it. When you stood up though, you faltered forwards, but Gekko has cought you in his arms.

"Easy... easy..." He said. Wingman of course tried to help you stand, by grabbing your ankle. It didn't support you at all, but the view of him trying his best was so adorable"

"Awww" You started, looking at Wingman "He's never done that before, what happened?"

At this question Gekko's face turned a little red. He knew that the creatures could feel his emotions and react to them. They perfectly understood who you were to Gekko, and wanted to support you as they support him.

"Brbrbrb?" It was Dizzy, who showed up behind Gekko's arm.

"She'll be fine guys!" He explained, grabbed you from under your knees to have you on his hands, making sure he avoided any hurt areas. "God, I thought you won't be this heavy."

"Oh, excuse me? I thought you wouldn't be that strong" You teased him.

"Brbbrrbrt?"

"Yes Dizzy!" You both answered, which made both of you giggle. Suddenly though your head felt heavy again, and you didn't even notice making a quiet groan.

"Hey-hey, stay with me there alright? Let's go." Gekko then took you to the rest of the team, where you could get the help you needed from Sage. He held you tight, and you wondered, how come you've never been in his arms before.

[mishy-mashy]

Bruce is actually really attractive, and I have enough reasoning to make a list

He's:

Tall (. Tall enough to hit his head on the vault doorframe)

Long-legged

Has a straight nose bridge

Has high cheekbones (more noticeable in 2nd pic below)

Has a strong jawline

Sharp eyes, but they aren't small (plus eyebags if you're into that)

Overall, he has strong, attractive facial features

Has broad, refined shoulders. You can tell he works out (or he did, when he was alive)

Even has a thick, muscly neck

He has MUSCLE. Is SCULPTED. NOICE. VERY NOICE. (nice arms. Nice shoulders. Nice neck. Nice legs. Nice butt-)

(There are actually panels where you can see some of his muscles. Other than those already shown here, he's got bricky thighs-

-and in the panels where we first get his name dropped, he's got those shoulder blades too-)

The one time we see him smile, and he actually has a scary one

Has small, kinda sharp pupils, and his eyes remind me of a cat. We only ever saw him tense or defensive, so his resting/listening face is really cute

Other than the physical appearance stuff, he also:

Takes shit without batting an eye (patience, knowing it's just how Kudo is, etc)

Kudo being all "Cut the crap Bruce and give it to me straight", after Bruce tests his blood and is rightfully Concerned because they just faced AFO

Put up with Kudo's experimenting and testing over Yoichi's transferable Factor

Did ya'll see the look on Kudo's face when he realized he had Yoichi's Factor/will? Kudo was going to start in nonsense and Bruce just dealt with that.

Also something I noticed when looking back at the images here; Bruce has bandages on his arms in the void. But not when he faced AFO in the sewers.

Were he and Kudo cutting their arms open in their experimenting over Yoichi's theory? Is this why Kudo has two gauntlets instead of his one? Why we never see his bare arms in the void? That he always keeps his arms down so there's no slip?

Is smart enough to run blood tests, plus has enough common sense to pick Shinomori as his successor

He picked a guy who avoids society, has an Ability to detect danger so he can always stay away from AFO, is also a coward so he's never going to go throw himself into danger, even without knowing instinctively he stands no chance, etc.

Meanwhile, Kudo chose Bruce, who he played Hot Potato Yoichi with; but he did also trust Bruce, and put the only pure combative Ability in OFA through Bruce.

These two made their choices based on what they valued and saw the Factor needed.

Is logical, analytical, and calm.

He tried advising Midoriya on their Abilities in One For All, especially his own.

Midoriya then tried ignoring him about using Fa Jin for the first time, but found he was right, thinking: "Dammit!! I had [Lady Nagant] right where I wanted her, but... ugh! The Third was right. My parallel Quirk processes are all screwed up!" (ch. 314).

Plus, when Midoriya fixed his processing mistakes, Bruce was analyzing the way he reached his new conclusion. Pure facts, no bias, very calm, just saying it as it was.

We never see him panic. When he's caught by surprise in the sewers by AFO, Kudo, and Yoichi's little bubble event, he immediately reacts. He doesn't falter, he just knows he has to do something right now.

Was more willing to listen than Kudo to Yoichi's beckon, and probably was just following Kudo's rejection of Midoriya

While we don't see Kudo's face, we see Bruce's eyes when Yoichi calls on his heroes. Bruce was more open and receptive, or at least more impacted.

Bruce was also the one to start talking, while Kudo just kept quiet.

He actually communicates a lot

When Yoichi called them to support Midoriya, Bruce started talking to paint a picture of why they thought the way they did, so Yoichi understood where they were coming from.

(Though he seems to beat about the bush sometimes, since Kudo spoke up to be direct on how they couldn't just put their trust in some starry-eyed teenager. Plus, when Kudo tells him to just tell him what's wrong [double Factors])

When Midoriya first used Fa Jin against Nagant, Bruce came out just to tell him he knew what he was trying, but that Midoriya wasn't ready; and Midoriya found he was right. Midoriya just didn't want to listen to him then.

He asks Kudo for clarification after finding Kudo had two Factors in him after the sewer incident ("Just to be sure, All For One didn't touch you, right?") Kudo knew him well enough to go "stop beating around the bush and tell me", so Bruce was probably gonna start with questions, theories, and trying to understand everything in general, before saying "yeah you have two Factors. Don't know why".

Is strong-willed and loyal.

He followed Kudo, even to death, carrying on the cause he started until it ended with him.

Plus, when talking about how AFO needs a strong will to override OFA's own, we first see Bruce, Kudo, and Yoichi.

AFO couldn't steal OFA because the will was too strong for him, and that was back during Banjo's time. Since Shinomori never actually tried opposing AFO and just hid, we can assume the first Three (Yoichi, Kudo, Bruce) already had an accumulation of strong willpower that made OFA un-stealable. Those three are a strong enough foundation, and the main wills, that the other users just become bonuses.

Kudo, also saying that Midoriya needs allies with the same will and drive as him... hey Kudo, you're talking about yourself and your old allies, aren't you? That's why you look at Yoichi and Bruce when you say this.

Not only is Bruce attractive, but he's got good character. THE END.

[prettypinkprincessa]

THE NIGHT WE MET

(Black coded reader) Frat!boy Rafe x shy!bunny!reader {not proof read so sorry for any mistakes!!}

He watched as you sat alone on the bleachers. Watching the football game that played infront of you. You weren’t one for social activities. Always kept to yourself. Reading your little books and tucking your braids behind your ear. He thought you were weird. I mean you barely had any friends. Didn’t play a sport. Unless you count that lame ass book club you’re in. He was so curious about you. What were you really like? What were your interests? What was your middle name? So many questions he had yet to find the answers to.

“Get your head in the game Cameron!” His coach yelled stopping his thoughts. He had the ball in his hands running toward the touch down. And boom. Everyone went wild and his teammates all surrounded him. “There we go!” Barry yelled. Rafe smiled slightly. Still too focused on you. Watching as you clapped and began to pack your things. “What the hell are you looking at camer- oh.” Barry sighed and looked at Rafe with a deadpanned expression “are you serious. her!? Out of all people?” Rafe looked back at him. A scold on his face. “Don’t act like she’s fucking ugly or something. Because she’s not.” Rafe said. “I never said she was ugly Rafe. She isn’t. But she would be way hotter if she fucking talked.” Rafe scoffed and began to walk off. “I mean you don’t even fucking know her!” Barry yelled. Rafe ignored him. Walking off the field to the locker room. He packed his stuff and changed into his normal clothes as he headed out. It was pretty dark since most of the games started at 6 and ended at 9. meaning most of the people went straight home. So it was pretty empty.

As he was walking to his car he noticed a girl on the ground next to her car. A yellow beetle. He watched as she raised her hands to her head. Sighing loudly but softly. He threw his bags in the car and walked over. “Hey” he yelled. “huh?” you turned around facing him. Eyes watery and cheeks flushed.

oh, it’s her.

“oh, hi.” you say back. voice barely above a whisper. “uh, are you okay?” He sticks his hand out in attempt to help you up but you decline. Grabbing the handle of your car door to stand up instead. “um, my car broke down.” You sighed as tears began to well up in your eyes, avoiding his gaze. He softened at your expression. “I don’t know what to do. My phone is dead and I don’t have a charger.” you whimper, attempting to hold back your sobs. He looked at his watch, 10:46. He smiled and looked back at you. “I could take you home if you want.” Your face expressed a feeling of shock and you finally looked him in the eye. “Really?!” You asked excitedly. “Of course- uh what’s your name? Sorry.” He said nervously. You giggled and looked away shyly. You then looked back up at him and smiled. “I’m y/n, and you?” He smiled and chuckled softly. “I’m Rafe. Anyway, cmon my car is over here.” You followed as he began to walk towards his car. As he reaches his car he opens the door for you. “Hop in doll” you smile and do as he says. He walks over to the drivers side and gets in. “Alright where do you stay?” he asks. “I live up north side in the house next to the shack.” “Really?!” He asks shocked. “Yeah” you respond. “I always wondered who lived there…how come I never see you around.” You sigh and look out of the window. He thinks he fucked up and gets worried. “Well, I don’t really have friends to hang with. So I guess I’m just…always in my room.” You mumble quietly. He starts the car and looks back over to you. “Well, you should come out with me and my friends sometime.” You look back to him and smile. “I would like that, thanks.”

The ride was pretty quiet. The only distinct noice was the wind from the open windows and the quiet song that played on the radio. As he pulled into your driveway he sighed. Not in a bad way but because of the fact that his time with you was over. As you were about to open the door to head out he stops you. “Hey wait!” He grabs your hand and you turn back around. “Yes?” You smile at him lightly. “Um, tomorrow at 6? Me and my friends are hanging out and I’d love for you to come.” You smile yet again. “I would love to come, Thanks for inviting me! Cya!” You hop out of his truck and walk to your door. He stays to make sure you make it in safely. As you shut the door behind you he smiles. “Cya sweetheart.”

[xndrexcruz]

I beg pls make more Marc Bernal fanfics 🛐

Starting to Slowly See You

✮- pairing: marc bernal x barca staff fem!reader

✮- summary: as you navigate your position at fc barcelona, marc’s thoughtful gestures and quiet support slowly make you question if there’s more to your friendship than you realized. though his feelings remain unspoken, subtle hints leave you wondering if you’ve been missing something all along.

✮- warnings: slow burn and kinda oblivious reader

✮- author’s note: thank you sm for the request! i hope you like it, also sorry for not being active and not updating in a while i just started my college classes and i feel like they’re tryna kill us already. ALSOOO thank you sm for 200 followers love you guys

✮- chapter’s: {current!} next ⤏

Working at FC Barcelona is more than just a job-it was a dream come true. But the early mornings, late nights, and constant work could get exhausting. If there’s one thing that made things easier, it was Marc Bernal. He’s always around, in subtle ways that sometimes would make you wonder if all of it was just a coincidence.

You would often cross paths during his breaks from training with the rest of the team. He’d sometimes walk into your office, sweaty and tired, yet he always made time to say hi or talk to you even if it was for a few minutes. You often found him leaning against your desk, a charming smile on his face as he asks about how your day was or offering to help you on whatever you were working on at the time. You appreciated the company, even though you didn’t quite understand why he always seemed to go out of his way for you.

One day, after an exhausting session, Marc came in with a bottle of water and a berry parfait, setting them on your desk with a small grin. “I thought you might need a pick-me-up,” he said casually, though his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual.

“Thank you, Marc,” you replied, flashing him a grateful smile before getting back to your work. You had never really noticed the way he watched you, a soft expression always on his face, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words.

As the days continue to pass, these small but sweet gestures started to become more frequent. He brings you coffee when you had long meetings, waits for you after work just to walk you to your car, or would show up with your favorite snack when he knows you’ve been stressed out. You always excused his behavior as him being a good friend-after all, that’s what friends did, right?

One evening, after most of the staff had left to go to their families, you stayed behind at your desk, trying to finish up on a report you had due the next morning. The office is quiet, the only noice was the faint hum of the air conditioning in the building. You’re so focused on your report you didn’t notice Marc slowly enter the until he was right next to you.

“You’re still here?” he asks, startling you. “You work way too hard, Y/n, you should get home.”

You look up at him and smile, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest at the sound of his voice. “I’m just trying to get this done before tomorrow morning, I’ll go home once i’m done. What about you? Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”

He shrugs, leaning against your desk like he would every time he came into your office. “I thought I’d check on you before I left. See if you needed me to get you anything.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his words. “You’re always constantly checking on me, Marc. You worry too much.”

“Maybe I do,” he says softly, his chestnut-brown eyes holding yours off a second too long. There’s something in his gaze, something that makes your heart skip a beat, but before you can try figuring it out, he straightens up and throws you a smile. “But someone has to look out for you.”

You shake your head at his words, amused by his protectiveness. “I’m okay, really. But thanks for being so thoughtful. It means a lot to me.”

“Anytime,” he replies, his smile softening. “I’ll come see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” you say, watching him as he walks out of your office. You can’t help but feel a wave of warmth spread through you, but you just brushed it off as just Marc being the sweet guy he always was.

As the weeks pass by, you start noticing other small things too. Like how he’d always linger just a bit longer when he says goodbye, or how his touches-whether it was a hand on your shoulder or a brief brush past your fingers-seem to carry more weight than it did before. He was always there, throughout your day, quietly always supporting you in ways that were both comforting yet confusing.

It wasn’t until one particular day, after a long and challenging day, that you had finally started to piece things together. You’re packing up to leave for the day when Marc appeared at your side, like usual.

“You did real,y great today,” he spoke, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “Everyone was impressed, especially with how you handled that crisis.”

You smile tiredly at him. “Thank you, I’m just glad it’s over now.”

“How about I take you out for dinner tonight to celebrate?” he asks, a hopeful look in his eyes.

You hesitated, a familiar flutter in your chest. “Dinner? I don’t know Marc…”

“We can keep it simple,” he suggests, his tone light. “Just a quick bite, it’s nothing fancy. I just… I thought it would be nice.”

There was something in the way he said it that made you pause. For the first time, you wonder if there was more to his constant attention towards you, his thoughtful gestures, than you finally realized it. Was there something he wasn’t saying? Something you had been to blind to see?

“Okay,” you agreed softly, watching as his face lit up with a smile. “Dinner with you would be nice.”

As you sat across from him in the cozy restaurant he has chosen, you find yourself focusing on him more closely than you ever have before. The way he seemed to always know exactly what you need, the way he would look at you like you’re the only person in the room, the way he never pressured you but was always present, waiting, hoping.

You couldn’t be,o but wonder if there was something deeper behind all of it-something he’s been trying to tell you without actually having to say it. But even as the thoughts consumed your mind, you pushed it aside. Marc is your colleague, your friend, someone you can always count on. It was probably nothing more than that… right?

As the night went on, Marc’s laughter and easy conversation made you forget all your worries, and by the time ge walks you towards your car, your smiling ear to ear. But just as you’re about to say goodnight, he does something that makes your heart skip a beat.

He reaches out and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, Y/n,” he spoke softly, his voice low yet husky filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Goodnight, Marc,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. As you drove home, his touch lingered against your skin, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Marc Bernal than meets the eye. But in the meantime, you decide to leave it as it is, happy to keep things as they are for now, even if your heard would beat faster whenever he was near.

[justtwotired]

Hello ! I hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if I could get an ask for Sam and Colby. Maybe reader (female or gn neutral pronouns are fine !) is invited to go with SnC exploring an abandoned place but she’s been struggling with body image (I’m kind of in the slumps rn :/) so she’s cut back on food. Through the trip they notice her lagging behind and getting tired easily. She ends up fainting due to exhaustion and lack of food and they take care of her when she comes to. Preferably Colby pairing and lots of angst ! Only if your comfortable writing about this thank you xx 🫶🏽

Why hello there, I am so sorry for posting this rather late, I wrote a part of it, then got busy and forgot about it and just finished and edited it, so hope it’s alright!

I really like this request! Mostly because I can really relate to reader, this is always chill because then I can write five that actually make sense ya know.

I did write some angst but not LOTS, because angst is one of those things I still find difficult to write, but I hope you still like it<3

“What’s up guys it’s Sam and Colby!” Colby started. “Today, we are at an abandoned manor in the woods right behind us. It is quite a walk, but I think we will survive!” Sam told the camera.

“Also, we brought someone with us,” Sam then pointed behind him where I stood rather awkwardly, wearing a huge hoody that I may or may not have stolen from Colby’s closet.

“This is Y/n, you guys know her of course, we had lots of questions to bring her back to the Chanel, so we did of course.” Sam explained before turning the camera fully on me.

I sucked in an unnoticeable sharp breath. Did I look alright? Was that pimple I hid under makeup this morning still invisible? Did the hoody hide my body enough?

“So, N/n, are you excited?” Sam asked and I gave the camera a genuine smile. “I am actually, this place is not too far from my home town and I’ve been wanting to go here for a while, but I didn’t want to go alone, so now I have these two idiots to come along.” I joked and Sam pointed the camera at Colby.

“Did you hear that, dude?” He said in fake sadness. “I thought you where coming with us?” Colby said also jokingly hurt. “I’m still stuck on the fact she called us idiots.” Sam said and pointed the camera at himself.

“Seems like we have to change the channel name to ‘Y/n only’ because she is taking over.” He said and I chuckled. “Oh yeah, definitely, and I’ll give them weekly uploads instead of your monthly shit.” I said and Colby grinned.

“What you’re going to the conjuring then? Staying a week there?” He asked and I pursed my lips. “Well I didn’t say that.”

The two laughed and Sam shut off the camera. “Heading to the forest, then?” He asked and we nodded. Suddenly my stomach made a growling noice and they stopped.

“We could get something to eat first?” Colby suggested and I shook my head. “Nahh, it’s fine, I’m not that hungry really,” I waved it off and kept walking.

“Are you sure? You haven’t eaten breakfast yet and it’s almost two in the afternoon,” Colby said and I just chuckled.

“I’m fine, really,” I smiled at him and kept walking, not missing the look the two of them exchanged before following me.

Truth to be told, the last time I ate would be the crackers from the day before, as I had just a bit in the afternoon after almost passing out.

Colby walked in the back, having taken over the camera from Sam and he recorded as we entered the forest.

I knew the walk would be about 20 minutes, so it wasn’t that bad, but I felt myself stress out when I became light headed.

Oh no, please, please not now.

Passing out has become normal now, the lack of food I’ve been consuming has been taking a toll on me. I never tell anyone, it’s my little secret, I didn’t need them to worry about me or feed me lies of how I was ‘beautiful’ because I know I’m not.

I stumbled and almost fell but steadied myself. “You alright there?” Sam turned around with a small grin and I gave him one back. “I’m fine,” I lied and we kept on walking, Cole shutting the camera off.

When the building came in sight he started it up again, and of course, as if fate had planned it, I fell and I noticed my consciousness slip away.

The last thing I felt was two arms around my waist and I was out.

I heard someone calling my name from afar and my eyes slowly opened.

“Oh, thank god, Sam! Sam she’s opened her eyes!” Colby called out. I slowly sat up. I was laying in the grass and I noticed Sam jogging over with his phone in his hands.

“Are you alright?” I looked at Colby who had a concerned look on his face and I nodded, trying to stand up but he put his hands on my shoulders.

“Woah, lets keep sitting down for a minute, love,” he said and I sat, rubbing my head. “How long was I out for?” I asked and Colby looked at his watch.

“Five minutes at least.” He told me. “Yeah, I tried calling for help, but there’s no service,” Sam said and I gave him a weirded out look.

“What help did you try to call?” I asked and he shrugged sheepishly. “Your mum, I thought maybe this had happened before,” he said and I sniffed.

“It happened a few times, but my mum doesn’t know, and don’t even think of telling her,” I said and the exchanged glances.

“You know what’s happening then?” Colby asked and I sighed. “I haven’t eaten in a moment, that’s probably it.” I confessed and Colby sighed.

“I told you that you should it this morning- when is the last time you ate?” He questioned. “Uhh, yesterday, some crackers,” I said and he clenched his teeth slightly.

“A decent meal,” he clarified and I bit my lip thinking back. “Tuesday, I think?” I said a bit uncertain. “That’s five days ago, Y/n!” He scolded and pursed my lips.

“Sorry,” I said in a small voice. Sam got his backpack of his shoulders and started to rummage trough it, pulling out an apple.

“Eat this,” he said and I took it from him, frowning at it a bit. “N/n,” he said and I sighed taking bite.

They made me sit for about ten minutes, and demanded I tell them why I wasn’t eating. With a bit of reluctance, I told them about how I felt, how I hated how I looked and that I felt like I was to fat.

The next twenty minutes where spent with them telling me all the things they liked about my look and my personality, giving me reasons to eat and demanding we go to a restaurant after this so I could eat a decent meal.

They also demanded I ate a desert, encouraging me to continue eating and not worry about my looks, because in their opinion, I looked beautiful.

At the end of the conversation, I had tears in my eyes, and I wiped them away, and I reassured them that it’d be fine to still film the video, as we all wanted to continue.

[gpcwsl]

Leah Williamson x !Reader:

Oh, what a night.

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, haven’t read through it.

My MasterList

A roar. A roar of noise from the home fans. Them seeing the time on the score. 123 minutes have passed. The fans whistling, shouting, calling out for the referee to blow their whistle. It’s two to one, England winning. So close to win the Euros. So close to change women’s football forever. So close.

Y/n has got the ball, all she knows what to do is boot it away. Then the referee should blow. Magull, the scorer for Germany rushes towards her. However, Y/n being the calm player she is, dribbles past her. She sees Alessia running away and to the Germany goal. Even if this doesn’t reach Alessia’s feet, Y/n knows that the end. The referee will blow and they have won. She knows.

Y/n boots it over to Alessia. And, as she does the noice the players and home fans all want to hear. The screams were almost deafening. But, no one cared. Y/n crashed. Her knees gave up. She’s on the ground, her head resting on the grass that she played on for over an hour. Tears almost threatening to spill as she takes in what her and her friends have achieved.

Her felt an arm pull her up. Not caring who it was she fell right into them. Her head stuffed in the person neck. She didn’t know who it was until they spoke. “We did it.”

Smiling at the voice she lifts her head up, looking right at her. “Fucking hell Leah, i’m exhausted.”

A laughed escaped her lips as she nods her head. “Yeah, me too.” She kissed the top of Y/N’s head. Before Alessia and Ella pulled them away, joining in at the celebration with the team. The night went on. Champagne was drank. Bodies on the dance floor.

It’s now 21:34pm. Every single one of the girls were still partying harder than ever. They are now at there hotel bar. Music blasting, which everyone sung too.

Y/n goes to the bar to grab another drink. Seeing another fellow teammate there. Creeping up behind her. “Hey-“

“Fucking Christ- Y/n!”

Y/n giggled, before turning to the bartender ordering her normal drink she gets. “Sorry, Lee.”

Leah scoffs, shaking her head but smiling softly at her. “Are you?”

Y/n looked back at her, smiling back softly at her, looking around her whole face, marking Leah’s details all around her face before answering. “No, I’m not.” She pulls her eyes away from her only to grab her drink once the bartender passes it to her.

Y/n turns around to face Leah, to notice that she has moved closer to me and is staring right at me. I smile at her and she smiles back. “Hi.”

“Hey…” Leah trials off, her eyes never leaving mine. Which is common for Leah. She can hold eye contact better than Y/n staying on her own feet. “You look… gorgeous.”

Y/n instantly became red. Her eyes leaving Leah’s to compose herself. Leah has always been such a flirt and it’s has always gotten Y/n blushing like crazy. And, Leah always sees it. “I mean it, Y/n/n.” Leah mumbled.

“Stop.” Y/n whispers, placing her drink down on the table they were next too. Before sitting down on one side of the booth. “Why?” Leah asks, following Y/N’s movements. Sitting down next to her.

“You making me-“ Y/n pauses mid sentence. Slightly re-thinking the words she was about to fall out her mouth, before sighing looking back at Leah. “Making me want to kiss you.”

“And that’s a problem how?” Leah asks, her right hands brushes up on Y/N’s cheekbone. “I’ve always had trouble finding how I’m feeling. Especially when it comes to girls.” Leah whispers.

“But, with you- I don’t know, it just makes sense.” Leah mutter, her eyes trying to find Y/N’s as she keeps looking at the floor. “Look at me, please.”

Y/n immediately looks up, her breath hitching as her eyes connect with Leah’s. Leah continues to talk in an effort to open her feelings. The feelings she’s been feeling for a little while.

“I knew my feelings for you while I was still in a relationship with Jordan. That was one of the reason’s we broke up.” Leah murmurs, now both of her hands cupping her cheeks now fully making sure Y/n doesn’t pull or look away.

“You have feelings for me?” Y/n asks, her eyes soften. Her eyes now fully never leaving Leah’s. Fully concentrated on the conversation and confession. “So fucking much.” Leah whispers.

There faces are closing in closer and closer. Like a moth to a flame. Moth is them and the flame the other’s lips.

“If- we shouldn’t do this here. Someone could be filming and it could be on the internet.” Y/n mumbles, her eyes never leaving Leah’s lips. “Yeah…” Leah trials off. “But, I don’t care.”

The hands cupping Y/N’s cheeks, suddenly pulls her in. Their lips meeting eachother’s perfectly. Y/n froze just for a few seconds before her hands came out to wrap around Leah’s waist. Her lips moving in sync with Leah’s. The kiss was slow, but gradually sped up as their hands wander over the other’s body.

Loads of thoughts rushed into Y/N’s and Leah’s head. The main one was the kiss and how gentle and loving the other kissed. But the one that was a problem was the aftermath. Either of them pulled away though. It could easily be the alcohol speaking.

Leah started to move forward, the legs intertwined together. Straddling almost. They hand’s which, Leah’s around Y/N’s wait and Y/n hanging round Leah’s neck. Leah gently bits down on Y/N’s bottom lip making her grunt, opening her mouth. She slips her tongue into Y/N’s mouth.

Before anything more could happen. Whistles from afar could be heard. Y/n was the one to pull away as Leah couldn’t care less. Y/n looks over to see some of her teammates looking over to them.

“Oi! Get a room!” Mary yells, laughing along with Alessia and Ella. Leah rolls her eyes but gradually takes Y/N’s hand. Pulling her up. “Gladly.” Leah yells back, flipping Alessia and Ella off as they made kissy jokes.

Leah grabs her bag off Ella who winked before walking down the hallway trying to find her room. Once she does she grabs her keycard from her bag, swiping the card she rushing into the door her hand never letting go of Y/n’s

“Leah-“ she gets shut up by Leah pushing her up against the door and a pair of lips meeting hers. Moaning into the kiss, Y/n arms wrap around Leah’s next again, pulling her closer.

Leah then trials her kisses to Y/N’s neck. Kissing the skin gently but with a little bit of aggressiveness. Y/n tilts her head back, enjoying the feeling of Leah’s lips on her body. Her right hand holding Leah in place. Not wanting her to stop.

“No hickeys.” Y/n mumbles, but knowing Leah won’t care about that and that she will proudly leave quite a few. “Oh, god.”

Leah’s lips trails up to Y/N’s ear whispering. “Bed, baby.” Y/N’s knees nearly folded.

Y/n pushes her chest forward, making her bad Leah walk backwards. Once Leah’s let’s touch the bed, Y/n pushes her onto it.

Leah pushes back into the bed, before grabbing Y/n by the waist bringing her down won’t her. Y/n now straddling Leah.

Leah hold her in place, biting her lips. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Y/n smiles softly at her before leaning down to kiss her again. Leah’s hands immediately move up to her head, keeping her in place.

Y/n gradually moved her hips back and forth. To which Leah groans to. “Fuck, baby.” Her hands now back on Y/N’s waist, helping her move. “Gosh.”

The night was wonderful for the two. They won the euros, they finally confessed their feeling and felt something they haven’t for a while.

And let’s just say Mary and Ella who is right next door to them the whole night, didn’t get any sleep whatsoever.

[dakotalun]

"Close" | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Eddie is teaching you how to DM, but what you don't realize is how close the two of you get throughout the night.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

word count: 1.3k

a/n: Just thought we could use some fluff in our lives.

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

When I showed up in the drama room before the weekly Hellfire game, Eddie thought I was lost. Just by the clothes I was wearing and the smile on my face he thought this was some prank from the jocks. He told me later on that he thought “there was no way that someone like you, someone so pretty and normal was interested in Dungeons and Dragons.”

But I was, I love D&D actually. Always have, well since my friends at my old school dragged me along to the first club meeting that year, but I fell in love instantly. The way you can just transform into someone else and not care about the shit going on in the outside world was a dream come true for me.

Once Eddie and I got to talking we hit it off, he was a god at being a DM and I loved that because my last one just wanted to kill all the players as fast as possible as if it were a race to see how many he could off before anyone got into the real storyline.

“So meet at my place around 8? My uncle should be at work by then so we can have the place to ourselves.” Eddie was walking with me to my next class after lunch. The two of us were planning on joint DMing a campaign and wanted to get together soon to start planning.

“That should work. Man, I can't wait to see the look on their faces when they see me sitting in the throne for the campaign!”

“Woah there sweetheart, the throne in there is mine. But I’ll gladly have you on my lap,” Eddie whispers at me before winking. 

I just laughed and punched him in the arm, “In your dreams lover boy,” We reach my classroom after the short walk from the cafeteria, “See you later Eds.”

“Bye sweetheart,” Eddie waves at you before heading off to his own class.

---

The school day couldn’t have gone by slower. The anticipation for tonight was gnawing at my stomach all day. I’ve always been interested in being a DM but never had the chance, so when I approached Eddie with the idea I was fully prepared for him to shoot it down.

To both my luck and surprise he agreed to teach me and help me with a joint campaign to get my feet wet in the Dungeon Master pool. I had almost every book on D&D, reading them late at night when I should’ve been studying for my tests. They were just too fascinating to put down once picked up.

Once I heard the high pitch screech of the school bell dismissing us for the day I was out of my seat and through those doors before my teacher could even give me the homework. I’ll just get it from May tomorrow. I headed straight home to get prepared for tonight, not that this was a date or anything. I just wanted to look good because this is the first time Eddie and I have hung out one on one since we met. 

By the time 8 rolls around I’m already dressed and prepared to see Eddie. I’m going a little out of my confort zone with this outfit because I’m not wearing a bra which is weird for me. The white tank top I have on doing nothing at hiding my nipples and the attached nipple piercings. It’s starting to get colder outside so I threw on some loose fitting jeans and a leather jacket to complete the look before I was off to Eddie’s trailer.

Truth be told, I wanted to wear something that involved a skirt because I notice the way Eddie’s eyes travel to my thighs when I wear one but I also felt like that was coming off too strong, so I decided against it. This shirt will have to do for now.

The drive was short and quiet, the only noice being the wind blowing in from my windows and the animals outside. I reach Eddie’s house and hop out my car, grabbing my bag out the passenger’s seat before heading towards the door.

Just like Eddie said his uncle was at work since I didn’t see his truck outside next to Eddie’s van. I walk up the steps and knock on the door a few times until I hear the lock click and am met with a bright faced Eddie.

“Right on time, come on in.” Eddie opens the door a little more allowing me to walk inside, “Make yourself at home.”

The place is cozy and nice, hats and mugs are hung from the walls in the living room. My eyes scan around, taking in the place Eddie calls home.

“Want a drink?” Eddie offers from the kitchenette to my left.

“Coke if you have it please. If not water’s fine,” I reply, sitting down on the couch. Eddie returns with a Coke for me and a beer for himself.

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off me as I took the Coke from him, the way my nipples just barely peeked out from beind the leather, showing him the faint outline of my piercings. It was killing him not being able to touch me the way he wanted, to feel me underneath him.

Eddie clears his throat, “So where do we begin?”

---

A few hours later Eddie and I are sitting on the couch, looking over all the pages of notes and open books on the coffee table in front of us. We’ve been going over the base plot line for the campaign for a while now and just need to figure out monsters and level up points.

“I think it would be wise to level them up just before the Ogre caves so that way they won’t get immediately killed you know?”

“I hear that but if we level them up then, we would have level 3 players fighting level 9 monsters in the next town.”

“Shit right, okay what if we,” I think for a minute, taking a quick drink of my third Coke of the night, “I got nothin’.”

Eddie is still looking at the book in front of us, his leg bouncing up and down quickly showing how anxious he is at the moment. I look up from where I’m staring when I feel the movement, my eyes immediately locking with the point where our legs are touching.

My gaze then raises to our arms, his shoulder squished against mine, the muscles flexing as he plays with the rings on his fingers. I took off my jacket a while ago, getting too hot with excitement as we talked about the storyline. Now it felt like my skin was on fire, his heat engulfing me as we sat side by side.

Eddie must have noticed my staring and stopped looking at the books and looked at me. His gaze follows mine when he notices it’s not focused on his own. And once he does notice what my gaze was focused on, he gets even more nervous, his eyes growing wide at the sight.

The softness of my skin on his and the rough feeling of my jeans on his skin through the holes in his own is like heaven to him. He wishes I would stop looking at his arms and look at his eyes because he needs to read my full expression.

As if I read his mind my eyes lock with his, the brown orbs he has containing nothing but warmth in return. The two of us just sit like that for a full minute, neither one of us wanting to break the connection we have. I can see the mix of emotions behind his eyes, the conflict of what to do next. I’m sure he can see my emotions too, fighting and slowly losing the battle to not lean in and kiss him.

I can clearly see the moment when his restraint snaps, the way his eyes darken and become softer at the same time. He leans in slowly, so aganizingly slowly, he doesn’t want to scare me away, he’s giving me an out. But I don’t take it. Instead I take my hand and put it in his hair before pulling his face to mine, locking our lips in a long awaited kiss.

TAGLIST: @ali-r3n @dixontardis @witchwolflea @micheledawn1975 @daydreaming-mood @idfwfeelings @adaydreamaway08 @preciousbumplingbee @rustboxstarr @plk-18 @teary-eyed-egg @needylilgal022 @exploding-bonbon @gagasbee @eddiemunsonsguitarpic @aol19 @thatwitchyoucouldntburn @meanlilbean @sonnyahngel @corrodedcass @pigwidgeonxo @marsmunson86 @lottie-90 @figmentofquinn @sareim123122 @eddies-puppet @gvf23 @kennedy-brooke @rocklees-wife @emma77645 @cherris-n-peaches @breehumbles @joequinn-love @anyoddthoughts @aysheashea @eddiesskittle @uncxmfxrtablex @cherrymedicine13 @mrsjellymunson @shotgunhallelujah @bambipowerblueaddition @hexqueensupreme @josephquinnsfreckles @harrysgothicbitch @paleidiot @smurfflynn @lilyungpeanut @selena-rocker27

[lunar-wandering]

very soft giggle glow resurrection by throwing this out-

You know how when the cast try and make the monkeys laugh, it's usually a verbal attempt? Yeah, I just had an idea-

So picture this; They'r chillin, mac and wukong, having a noice time and shit, but unknown to the two monkies, Mei and Mk are planning some weird shit. So those are somewhere else for a while, and it's very quiet, but nothin' suspicious right now.

Until MK creeps behind the couch Wukong's sitting on, and just kinda rises very fucking quietly. He KNOWS Macaque is watching him, he knows damn well Wukong hasn't noticed him-

And then he just starts quietly dancing there. Just-just flailing his arms and wiggling his eyebrows in this VERY SPECIFIC WAY that's so fucking weird but so fucking hilarious. And Macaque is just staring at him like he's grown two heads, but he's trying so hard not to laugh bc 'wtf Mk you look like a high OCTOPUS-'

And then Mei slowly rises into view next to him, and now they're both doing a silly little dance with silly stupid faces and shit. Macaque is on the edge of BREAKING my guy-

And then-and then the KILLER-

Mk says "Mmmmm, yes, flufflebutter-" in the poshest, most suspicious, most downright HILARIOUS and very concerning tone of voice and Macaque just loses his MIND-

Breaks down in laughter and glowing while Wukong chokes on his own spit because my man just heard 'flufflebutter' out of nowhere, what did you expect from him?-

And then he turns around.

Fuckin' Monkey King practically jumped out of his skin to see these two pieces of shits doing this funky ass motherfucking dance behind him and that only makes Macaque laugh MORE, poor monkey starts snortin' up a storm and his light is fucking blinding-

But now both monkeys are laughing at the top of their lungs, and MK's just drawing closer to Wukong, doin' his silly dance all the while and strokin' his chin like "MMMMMM YES I SEE ALL THE FLUFFLEBUTTERS-" And Mei is dancing behind him nodding fervently like he's speaking the word of Buddha himself, gettin' down on her knees and putting her hands up in PRAYER-

Those two monkeys never saw the light of day again-or well, they saw light, just not the one from the sun XD

practically dead in the living room when the others came to check in on them because of all that loud laughter and glowing, and MK and Mei are there looking oh-so-innocent even while Mei is in the middle of taking pictures of their glows at the brightest they've ever witnessed.

Thank you for listening to my ted talk uwu

this has been in my askbox for months and anon, i don't know who you are, but i owe you my LIFE because this is so silly, this is so them, and i ADORE this-

[lyxyhii]

Summary: a harmless, fun party at the Slytherin common room turns into sleeping with Draco Malfoy.

..

Y/n x Draco Malfoy

..

Warnings: drinking, sexual dancing references, drug references, sex, making out, fingering,

..

I arrived outside the Slytherin common room, a person standing outside deciding who can come in.

Once me and my friend, Clara Mchill, arrived at the door, we were immediately let in. No questions.

We giggled and walked in, the lights flashing and people dancing everywhere. I looked over at Clara and said,

"let's have some fun tonight."

A smirk came to her face fast and grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the make shift bar.

Stood behind it was some random Slytherin boy, he probably learned to mix drinks in a class.

"could me and my friend get 3 shots of your best vodka?" Clara asked loudly, trying to be heard over the noise.

He nodded and poured our drinks out for us on the bar ledge.

"I've never really drank this much before Clara" I said worried.

"don't be scared, you'll loosen up soon." She giggled.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my first shot and took it. My face cringed at the kick. Than once I was ready, I took the other 2.

Clara laughed at me. My lightweight ass is already gone. She took her shots shortly after.

We ran to the dance floor and started dancing a bit. Laughing and making jokes.

I had forgotten I wore a shorter dress, it definitely has ridden all the way up, just under my ass basically.

I pulled it down once or twice but had forgotten.

"y/n, I'm going to find some coke, I'll be back," screamed Clara.

I nodded and kept dancing. Suddenly, a person grabbed my hand and pulled me towards them.

They were tall, had a white button up and black pants. I tried to make out the face but I couldn't see.

"he bent down and whispered in my ear "y/n, I woul sod never think you at of all people would be here."

I whispered back, "All I needed was a couple drinks to loosen up."

I could feel a smirk against my face. I giggled a bit.

I swayed my hips a bit. I was long gone of any conscious I had before taking those shots.

He put his hands on my hips and swayed a bit with me. I turned around and I started dancing against him. His hands still on my hips.

He put his head next my ear again and said,

"let's go somewhere quieter."

I smirked and grabbed his hand, leading him towards the doors that go into the a room our couches.

Once in there, I found a couch without someone on it and laid down on it.

I could finally see his face, it was..oh my god.. Draco?

I was dancing on Draco Malfoy, the boy who I've never had the guts to talk to.

He crawled next to me and we began to makout. His hands exploring my waist.

I moaned a little into the kiss. Draco smirks a bit than moved one of his to my thigh. Moving it up slowly.

I pulled away for air, resting my forehead on his.

I may how been blacked out moments earlier but I'm very aware of what's happening right now.

Dracos hand is slowly going up my thigh, making me gasp.

"is this okay?" He asked me.

I nodded quickly, desperate for his touch. His hand continued up and brushes over my clit.

"holy crap," I gasped.

He moved my underwear and began to rub my clit at a slow pace. He's such a tease.

I put my head on his shoulder to try to hide my face. Muffling my moans the best I can.

"oh god," I softly said.

He began to pick up his pace, making it even harder for me to hide my moans.

"it's okay, let go. Everyone is to drunk to noice you and I," he joked.

After his words, I started to let my moans out. They weren't loud but noticable if you were sober.

"good girl," he muttered into my ear.

The knot in my stomach was building and building, my moans louder and louder.

I had no more shame, all I felt is pleasure.

"I'm close!" I moaned out.

As soon as I said that, I came. I'm not lying, I've never came before.

Draco was right, I'm not the person to be like this normally. I'm such a goodie tushy girl with all A's and never party's.

"that was... amazing," I whispered.

"how about we go to my room for more... privacy.." he hinted.

He stood up and held his out, I grabbed it and stood up too. I fixed my dress, than we walked to his room.

We arrived at his door and he opened it slowly, pulling me inside.

I walked towards the bed, the king size bed with large bed posts in each corner.

Draco shut the door and locked it, than began to unbutton his white shirt. Afterward, he folded it and put it on the dresser.

I looked over at him, his small but muscular figure made me just feel faint.

He looked away for a second and quickly took my dress off, throwing it to the side.

Now, I was left in my underwear. I felt so bare and vulnerable. I tried to cross my arms to hide myself.

He turned around and saw me standing there, my face red with embarrassment.

"don't be embarrassed, you look... amazing," draco confessed.

He walks towards me and put his hands on my hips like earlier, than leaned in and kissed me.

I kissed back slowly, putting my hands on his face. He grabbed one of my legs and brought it up to his hip, making me feel him more.

This Time, he pulled away. He grabbed my other thigh and lifted me up, than carried me and laid me on his bed.

I sat there and stared at he undid his black pants.

He jumped on the bed and crawled on top of me and we began to makout again.

the room was heating up, the passion in the kiss grew.

Draco sat me up and undid my bra and slipped my underwear off, leaving me completely nude.

I felt so ashamed of what I was doing. I look down at my purity ring on my finger. (hint to the last thing I wrote ;) )

Draco began to kiss down my neck, trying to find my sweet spot. And once he found it, he abused it.

Leaving hickeys all over my neck. I gripped his hair tightly and moaned softly.

Whenever he makes me feel good, my shame goes away. But the moment that pleasure and fun goes away, I'm ashamed and worried.

"y/n, I must ask before I go farther, are you okay this?" He asked with a sincere look.

"I'm more than okay with this." I stated.

I grabbed his head and pulled him into a kiss. His dumb smirk seeped through the kiss.

Draco took his boxers off and aligned himself with me, slowly inserting himself.

I winced in pain, this pain was horrible.

"shh, shh, I won't move till your ready." He says calmly.

My eyes were squeezed shut, I was trying to fight it.

After many minutes of just sitting there, it started to fade.

"I'm...I'm ready," I stutter.

I'm worried this will be nothing like how my friends make it out to be. They say it's amazing but who knows.

He slowly moves his hips, thrusting in and out.

A wall of pleasure hits me suddenly, and the loudest moan leaves my mouth.

"oh god!"

Draco laughs loudly and picked his pace up.

I put my hand over my mouth but draco ripped it off.

"you don't have to hide how good you feel y/n"

I nodded and just let go.

I threw my head back into his pillows, so my friends really didn't lie.

I was so lost in the pleasure that my purity ring had flewn off my finger.

I felt the knot building slowly.

"Draco..Im..I'm close!" I spoke.

"just a couple more minutes," he stated.

I held back, trying my hardest not to cum. But it's hard when he keeps hitting my sweet spot. It feels too good.

"cum y/n," draco groans.

I squeezed around his and came, he pulled out right after and finished on the bed sheets.

He got up and grabbed a towel, cleaned me up.

I stayed still for a couple minutes, trying to come down from my high.

"that was amazing, Y/n. " Said as he laid next me on the bed.

I looked over and smiled, than said,

"I never would have thought at the beginning of the year I would go t a Slytherin party and sleep with draco Malfoy"

"I could say the same with you." He laughes.

I took in his sweet laugh and smile, I never see this side of him. I see the dark scary side.

We talked for a bit than I cuddled next to him and fell asleep in his arms...

.

.

.

(IF YOU WANT THE NEXT DAY STORY, ITS ALREADY POSTED. I WROTE THIS AS AN ADD ON TO IT!!)

[dido-reblogs]

ok so why do I think when husband!taehyun works from home, he would tell you to sit beside with his camera and mic on (but not too close that you'll be in video) and he'll finger whole time while he attends his meeting and will tell you not to moan 🥹🥹

and he'll later punish you if you made any sound during the meeting for his employees to hear 🤭🤭

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

no cuz anon i can totally imagine this. him fingering you ruthlessly while expecting you to be stay quiet. no coherent thought in your mind so you lose control an moan really loudly. he just slaps your pussy and contunies cuz he is a menace. "didn't i tell you to be quiet, slut?" he says after he mutes himself. never stops fingering you throughout the whole meeting. and as a punishment every time you loudly moaned, you are not allowed to cum the whole day. and you made noices 8 times so that meant 8 days of not cumming.

you are pratically desperate at this point. you are on day three and there is still five days left. you don't know how you will manage so you act extra good around him so that he forgives you and decides to not punish you. yet no avail. he keeps bringing up a particular employee of his noticing thr noices you made. "would you also like him to hear me edging you and never letting you release?" he asks with a smirk.

AHHH but i think he will forgive you around day four for your extra good behavior. and changes punishment to make you cum as many as days left times. and of course it is impossible to your body to handle so you probably pass out after the 4th. 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭your overstimulated body not being able to take the final one.

and for it's punishment you get one week sex ban. poor you. couldn't run away from punishments. 😭😭😭😭 idk why but especially if he is your husband he would be more into both punishing you and taking risks. boyfriend!taehyun also loves that but not as much as husband!taehyun.

[chiiyuuvv]

[DAY 4] masterlist ᡣ𐭩 !

— reckless serenade , the arctic monkeys 💿 ; strangers to lovers

♡list : @yzerpoz , @imthisclosetokms , @rizzkisworld , @hyvelxve , @dogyunslover , @starryriize

A sigh of relief leaves hunters lips when the teacher walks into the classroom, signaling class was starting and unintentionally freeing everyones eyes off of the poor latter. He hated being considered 'popular' for his handsome figure and kind personality, everyone sending their share of hideous winks or glares at the boy who didnt do anything. He just wanted to be in his own bubble, pushed to the side and left to ponder about whatever against the window instead of listening to the lecture.

But he freezes when he hears a laugh, a laugh hes never heard before. The noice alone left a shiver down his spine, too mesmerized at the stun gun lullaby like sound to notice that there was a new student, that got along with the teacher pretty well.

The teacher claps her hands to get everyones attention, displaying the said new student that shyly stood at the front of the class. And thats when he found the source of the sound. You. You were too beautiful for your own good, hunter catching the other boys in the class smirk out of the corner of his eye. And for some reason, it angriers him, jealous that hes having a bit of competition.

When the teacher announces the you needed a place to sit, everyone was quick to remove their bags, making their area look comfortable to captivate your attention. But you dont go to any of their seats. No, you sat at hunters, the boy looking down to conceal his red face. This felt dangerous, this felt reckless, swooning over someone that most likely didnt reciprocate his feelings, leaving his heart open to get broken.

But he cant help but daydream about how it would be like to kiss you, wanting his teeth to collide with yours. It was weird, and he needed someone to talk to about it, someone who understood.. but unfortunately he had no one, almost like he got an answering machine.

And now, all alone, hes stuck wondering how its meant to be. Should he muster up the courage to talk to you? His hand already hovering over your shoulder to give it a gentle pat to put your attention on him and away from the classroom, before waving the said hand, the words already spilling out of his lips.

"Hey."