#BRO! i should get a standing desk?!?!?

[foxmulderautism]

the fatigue feels like its deeply sunk into my skull but we move

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲?

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.4K words

fic masterlist previous part pt three next part

miguel unwillingly pining after reader; fantasies about you in miguel’s head; a massage (pg); a hint of jealous miguel; spanish wise—I hope I wrote everything correctly, I asked for some opinions and check ups from a spanish speaker <3 big thanks to you — after an interesting morning with miguel, you learnt a few more spanish words, not to be late, and having him in close proximity might give you a heart attack. your mind certainly wandered when you were monitoring a mission, the spider peoples’ bickering making you feel annoyed, an emotion miguel unwillingly likes the look of on you. but how does he feel when he makes his request… asking you to follow him to a door you didn’t think you’d ever pass through?

“Checking the location now.” You said through your ear piece, tapping away at the keyboard. Your back was straightened as you stayed focused. You were working with a group of spider variants, who were assigned to get rid of a misplaced “villain” as they liked to put it. It just makes their job sound much more important, resulting in then coming back with a proud sway to their hips.

“Bro, why are you breathing so hard?” Hissed one of the spider variants to another.

“I’m settling into my hero act.” His tone is full of pronounced muscle—most likely standing with his arms by his side like some macho man. He takes a deep sigh. “It can be tough being such a incredible hero.”

The others just stare, clearly used to this from him, before a screech meets everyone’s ears.

“Where is it?!” One of them exclaims, frantically looking around.

“It would’ve blended into one of the buildings’ walls.” You say, scanning the area on your computer.

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘blended in’?” A spider-man asks. “What is this monster—a chameleon?”

You’re silent for a moment. “Please tell you me reviewed the mission.”

There’s silence through the earpiece. You blink a few times, then close your eyes taking a deep breath. “Why not?”

“Look, I was going to but…Parker distracted me!”

“I distracted you?!” Parker exclaimed.

“Guys.” You try, but they either can’t hear you or are choosing not to.

“You were the one who was so eager to just defeat this villain!”

In your annoyed state, you can’t help but let your mind wander somewhere that had held your attention for majority of the day…

—this morning—

You rushed down the stairs, while simultaneously fixing your hair. Shit, you were gonna be late. All because of these extensive stairs.

When you reached the bottom, your hair had become a mess again, making you place your flat palms against your head as you tried to soothe the stray hairs.

You reach the door to your office, pausing to take a breath. Twisting the handle, you walked inside.

You instantly noticed Miguel, spider suit back on, as he swiped necessary and unnecessary screens back and forth by the large spider.

You tried to stay quiet as you walked to your desk, but your luck seems to plainly not exist as Miguel’s voice greets you—rather gruffly.

“Would it be cliché to say ‘you’re late’?”

You press your lips together as he jumps down. You seem to forget how tall he is until he’s towering over you, with a look that states ‘you should be worried’.

You gulp, before forcing a smile. Miguel’s expression stays dead as he waits for you to speak, most likely to explain yourself.

When you say nothing your mouth opening and closing like a stupid fish, Miguel speaks. “I said six.”

You nod. “I heard you.”

“Did you?” His clicks his jaw, a slight tilt to his head, as he observed your quickly fixed hair and slight heave of your chest. You clearly rushed. “You just woke up.”

“No.” You say indignantly. “I’ve been awake since six, I just didn’t like the idea of walking down those stairs, so…I began working in my room.”

“Uh huh.” He sarcastically nods. “Right.”

You press your lips together, thinking you should have stitched them shut. You weren’t helping yourself.

“You keep saying you want to prove that you belong here.” Miguel begins. He leans forward, his red eyes gleaming, his fangs becoming more visible as he snarls. “If you don’t start getting here at six, then I’ll be happy to drag you out at four.”

He leans back, stalking back towards the big spider, as he webs himself up to the top. You let out a sigh, turning to your desk and swivel chair.

;;

After an hour or so of working, and going over the mission scheduled in a few hours, you feel a breath by your neck. With wide eyes you spin around to see Miguel staring down at you.

When he meets your gaze, you’re placing your hand over your heart. “Can you not scare me like that?” You mutter out.

He leans forward…and forward… and forward, until his large hands are caging you in by resting them on the chair’s armrests. “Scare?” He almost whispers in question to himself.

You’re utterly frozen as his breath tickles your nose and cheeks, which you are sure to be an embarrassing red by now.

“O’hara?” You slowly question, it comes out quieter than you had intended.

His eyes stay focused on your own, as your pulse beats rapidly in your chest. Stop it— you want to say. But you’re not sure what ‘it’ is exactly.

“…did you need something?” It’s the only thing you can think to say.

“What do you mean by scare?” He asks.

You lightly shift in your chair, unsure what to do in this situation. “Um…I just mean that you’re…you are kinda scary, O’hara.” You force a chuckle, trying to ease tension you are sure is the annoyance radiating off of him.

“Is it the fangs?” He asks, his eyes strangely showing genuine interest—or what you think to be genuine.

“Kind of?” You say more so as a question. “But also how you never, well…smile.”

“Why should I smile at people I don’t want to smile at?” He asks, his eyes finally dropping away from the entrapment of your own, but to a much worser place.

You self consciously lick your lips, feeling your nerves turning them dry. His gaze doesn’t shift from your mouth for an abnormally long time.

“O’hara.”

His brows then begin to furrow, his eyes finally leaving your lips, making you unintentionally sigh.

“Why do you refer to me by my last name?”

“What does ‘chaparrita’ mean?” You counter.

He narrows his eyes, leaning away from you and back to his full height. “You ready for your lesson?” He suddenly asks, grabbing a swivel chair and leaning back.

You stare at him for a moment. So that was what he was supposed to ask this whole time? “Okay, if you tell me—“

“No.” He says monotonously. “Ahora deja de hacer preguntas y siéntate y escucha.” (Now stop asking questions and sit and listen.)

You didn’t understand what he just said but you can understand his tone, so you readjust yourself on your chair and stay silent.

“Now…what do you say when you want help?” Miguel inquires, his tone now almost babying.

You narrow your eyes, but answer anyway. “¿Me puede ayudar, por favor?”

“Mm.” He hums, letting his gaze drop. “Bien.”

Miguel notices the slight curve of your lips at his praise. He shifts in his seat. “I hope you know what that means.”

Your small smile falls, before a fake one replaces it. “Yes, O’hara, I do know what that one means.”

“You should loose the attitude, chaparrita. Si es que quieres mi ayuda” (If you want my help, that is.) He says, running his tongue along one of his fangs.

“I understood “my help”.” You say. “And the one with the attitude here is you.”

“How so?”

You raise your brows. “Do I need to answer that? I thought you were observant?” Okay, now you were just pushing his buttons for fun. He seemed to get riled up so easily.

A scowl forms on his face. “Si no fueras tan pinche bonita, creo que me gustaría verte arañada” (If you weren’t so annoyingly pretty, I think I’d like to see you clawed up.) He mutters under his breath, his gaze slightly venomous.

“¿Cómo estás?” Miguel says. “Repeat it.”

“¿Cómo estás?” You repeat.

“That means “how are you?”. And what could you reply with?” He inquires.

“Bien.” You answer.

“Mejor.”

“‘Better’?” You say with a scoff. “I feel like I should get a bit more credit…Spanish is hard.”

“First of all—it’s not.” Miguel states. “Second…you know what ‘mejor’ means?”

“It was one of the words I learnt on my phone.” You shrug.

“Any other words I should I know about?” He sounds annoyed, and you can’t fathom why.

“You’re annoyed at that? To be honest I thought you’d be grateful.”

He doesn’t say anything. Mainly because he can’t say the first reason that popped into his head. He wanted you to learn Spanish—all of it—from him, and only him. He also can’t tell you because he doesn’t know why he feels that way. It was stupid, feeling resentful to a phone, utterly stupid, but Miguel can’t ignore the nagging feeling in his stomach.

—present—

“Shut up!” You exclaim, massaging your temples.

There’s finally silence on the other end.

“The invisible monster is moving your way, on the left wall. You’ll be able to spot a slight glimmering shimmer over him. If you look close enough.”

You finally see the spider variants pick up into action, spotting the monster and beginning to attack.

Miguel watched from afar, leant by the open door to the main tech room, arms crossed as he watched you lean back in annoyance. When you were mad your eyes would hood over, narrowing to show only half of your pupils.

You would aways grow hot, occasionally fanning yourself as you unbuttoned the first button of your shirt. And Miguel would always stare, his chest picking up to a quicker beat. But the scowl would be set, Miguel hating the way he reacted. He shouldn’t be reacting at all. He felt pathetic, as he tried to look away.

Every time he’d fail, his gaze only shifting further down your body. Your legs were yet again…spread. An obviously comfortable position for you, but certainly not Miguel.

He’s embarrassed to admit—not that he’s ever actually—that he’s fantasised about being close to your spread legs, his hands being able to spread them further. You were a reactive girl, very hyper aware for a human. He hoped you’d stay the same when he’d touch you.

Your chest heaving, your mouth opening, as goosebumps littered your skin. Skin he’d be able to see a lot more of.

And to all these fantasies he would hate himself, and you. Sure, he was projecting. But he’d rather project anger then any of his hidden thoughts.

“Is it my turn now?” He asks, making you spin in your chair to face the exit and Miguel.

You had finally taken out your headpiece, the mission clearly completed. The spider-men would get back soon. A look of confusion flashed across your features before realisation hits. ‘His turn’. His side of the deal.

You stand, straightening your slightly crumpled shirt—you had been fisting the material in your annoyed state. Miguel ignores the thoughts of instead a crumpled sheet. Your fists clenching around, preferably, his—no. Not preferably his. He clears his head, biting his inside cheek, the metallic taste of blood now tangible.

“Follow me.” He turns, expecting you to do so.

And you do, walking past all the different spider variants in an effort to stay at Miguel’s heels.

Through the journey up the stairs, Miguel—who doesn’t know why he’s walking with you—has been having thoughts. Very…interesting thoughts. Some seeming very similar to those of ‘finding you annoyed kinda hot’ type of thoughts. It also fell back to the thoughts swirling in his head when he was looking at your lips.

He hadn’t meant to do that, his body seeming to have had a mind of its own when he leant over, caging you in.

He’s annoyed to admit—to himself—that he had wanted to kiss you. See what it felt like. Maybe he’d hate it and his strange, annoying crush on you would go.

He’s soon stopped by his room, finally glancing at you, to see that you look confused. “I thought I was doing what you asked…or whatever.” You say, slowing your breathing.

“You are.” He opens his door, walking in.

You watch him, brows still furrowed. You stay rooted to the hallway floor. “In your room?” You look around like you’ve done something terrible, and you’re gonna get caught.

“Maybe you aren’t as committed as you claim to be.”

Your eyes narrow at his blatancy. You edge closer to his cracked open door, him now fully inside. You take a deep breath before pushing it further open, then quickly shutting it behind you.

“You know, I probably shouldn’t be in here.” You mutter, staying pressed to the door, as you took in the large looking bed, messed up from his sleep, along with a window, and plain walls. There wasn’t much character and you could tell that that was very intentional.

You then shift your gaze to Miguel who had found himself a seat, relaxing back into it as he clicked his jaw. He finally met your gaze, and in the dim-ish lighting his hair looked messier, his hand most likely having ran through it.

“So…” you drift off, not meaning to come across so awkward.

He tilted his head to the side, silently asking you to come to him, as his legs spread a fraction. You ignored the want to hitch your breath, gulping it down instead.

You stare at him, not moving.

He raised a brow. “You look worried.”

“I’m not worried…just…confused.” You again force a chuckle, a forming coping mechanism around Miguel.

“I think my direction was pretty obvious. I did say it in English.” He again made himself out to be all superior.

You sigh. “I heard you. I’m just confused as to why you asked that.”

“What—did you think I asked you in here so that you’d stay plastered to my door, chaparrita?” He asked sarcastically.

You wet your lips. “Why did you ask me in here?”

“I want a massage.” He says it just so…simply.

You blink, maybe one time too many. “What?”

“A massage, y/l/n.” He says, lowering his head slightly, looking up at you through his lashes.

“Why?” You haven’t moved from the door, so, Miguel swiftly shoots a web out to attach to your shirt, yanking you forward.

You gasp, nearly tripping over your feet, as you get pulled towards him. Miguel stabilises you with a hand to your stomach, making you come to a stop in front of him. “What the hell?” You stare at him, your chest heaving in shock.

You rip the web from your shirt, quickly brushing it off. “You gave Gwen one. I heard you were good. That’s all.” Miguel says.

Your brows furrowed. “Gwen?” Then you remember. “Oh, well that’s because she just got back from a really hard mission…she was sore and I…dunno, I was bored.”

“And you don’t think I am? Sore, I mean. You do realise I take care of the multi—“

“The multiverse, yes. I haven’t forgotten. I’m just a little shocked, is all.”

“You can say no.”

You sigh. “If I want to lose my job.” You mutter, walking around him. Miguel twists his head to follow you slightly, until you stood out of his gaze, directly behind him. You pause, before gingerly placing your hands on his shoulders. Jeez, he was broad.

You closed your eyes, taking a breath. To be honest you thought his requests would be hardcore, asking you to practically run around ramped. But instead here you were alone in his room giving him a massage.

You began to add pressure. Working your fingers into the instant knots you felt.

Miguel’s eyes involuntarily rolled closed, as he accidentally leaned more into your touch. You don’t seem to notice the shift as you continue massaging by his neck and along his shoulder, veering a slightly onto the top of his back.

“I forgot to ask: where did you want the massage? I just assumed the shoulders.”

“Mm?” Miguel hums in question, sounding far away, a small heavy breath leaving his lips after.

“O’hara?” You ask, stopping your hands’ movements.

A small growl of disapproval fell from Miguel’s lips involuntarily. “Just—“ he takes a breath. “What you were doing is fine.”

You place your hands back where they were, making Miguel relax back into your fingers. You were good—Miguel thought to himself. He can’t remember the last time he released so much tension.

You lean down to Miguel’s ear, your tickling breath making him gulp. “Is there a time requirement? Because I had plans tonight.”

Miguel’s brows furrowed. “Plans? What plans?” He didn’t mean to sound so disappointed and borderline desperate, but he’s thankful you barely heard his tone as your attitude didn’t shift.

You worked your fingers closer to his chest, doing your normal routine. Your grandmother was a masseuse, and of course she had to give you some tips. It was fun being able to practice on Gwen, but with Miguel you felt nervous every time you would press down hard on a knot.

But his responses seemed to be good, considering all the quiet groans and heavy breaths.

“I made plans with spider-man—“

“That’s very descriptive.” Miguel comments, his head slightly rolling to the side.

You scoff, your fingers moving to the base of his neck, where no spider suit material could intervene. The pads of your fingers rubbing his bare skin. Miguel noticed the difference a lot quicker than you did, sounds and words of approval he really didn’t want you to hear threatening to spill.

“Dios, ¿por qué tus manos tienen que sentirse tan bien?” (God, why do your hands have to feel so good?) He muttered under his breath, not really meaning for you to catch a word, but of course you pick up ‘bien’.

“Good?” You asked. “Well, then you should put in a good word for me.” You chuckle. “Maybe I should start a small business and massage all the spider-men and woman. I think I’d do well—“

“No.” Miguel says instantly, still sounding slightly breathless. “If you want to prove yourself you can’t get distracted.” Of course that’s the reason he dislikes the idea. Definitely not because he doesn’t want your hands making others feel like this…definitely not.

“Don’t worry, it was just a hypothetical.” You say, going back to his shoulders. “Now, I hope that’s okay. Because I do need to go.” You bring your hands away, and it takes everything in Miguel not to spin around in the chair, grab your hands and ask you to massage somewhere else.

The tense knots in his shoulders were gone, his neck felt light, and he wanted to feel your fingers run along his abs. This was bad. Why was the lighting so dim, why was your scent so strong?

He spun around in his chair, meeting your gaze. “You didn’t fully answer me before. Who are meeting?”

“It was gonna be spider-man, the one with the cartoonish attitude, and now it’s just Hobie. I dunno. something about an important—“

“Hobie?” Miguel interrupts. He displayed indifference, though inside he was burning.

A weird tension began to fill the room. “Yeah, so I’ll just…go.” You say quickly passing him and opening the door, before Miguel had the (bad) mind to stop you.

You rushed out into the hallway which instantly felt lighter, letting you breathe.

You head to the main communion area, paths leading everywhere along the walls to along the roof, making it easy for a spider person to navigate but not someone who can’t stick to walls.

So you stay on the simple path, skimming through talking suited spiders until someone called your name. You spin catching sight of Peter, Mayday in his grasp.

“Hey.” You smile.

“Hey. Sorry, Hobie wanted me to tell you that he can’t catch up for that song session thing, something about getting called in for business.” Peter said, his hands going everywhere as Mayday tried to escape over the edge.

“Also picture that in an over pronounced British accent.” He gave you a thumbs up to which you chuckled.

“No worries, thanks Peter.”

“Mayday!” He suddenly yelled, to which you pointed to the left, displaying her climbing onto a spider-man’s back.

Peter rushes off. And you sigh, thinking you hurried for no reason. Though you are grateful that you could use that as an excuse to get out of Miguel’s room.

As you head to your own, you begin to wonder what this last minute mission could be about and why Hobie had been called in now. Usually the only person who calls people in, especially this last minute would be Miguel.

I guess crime never sleeps—you think to yourself—or something like that.

ahhh here’s part three!—I hope this one wasn’t too boring or not what you expected x part four is gonna be more SeXuAl, I promise

I actually don’t know how many parts I should do, coz atm it’s feeling like a slow burn, but I don’t want to drag you guys along a long ass fic so I’m not sure.

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbb @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright @pix-stuff

#2 taglist

[n0tamused]

Hello! may i request a dr ratio fic where he randomly turns into an owl and now reader has to find a way to turn him back into a human, while reader finds a way, they take care of dr. owltio! its basically your typical "oh no my s/o turns into something and now i have to deal w it!" fanfic😭🙏 Ive seen silly tiktoks of veritas being an owl bc it resembles him so well🥹💗

A/n: I love those tiktoks sm bro 😭 They're so cute, I went to work on this as soon as I could. I hope I did this prompt justice, enjoy!

Contents: Veritas Ratio x GN! Reader, fluff, Owltio!

Words: 2465

“Quit your back talking” you scold, voice sharp as you whip around to glare at the bird on the table. Poised even in this fragile form, the big owl straightened its back, standing a little taller and letting out an accusatory ‘whooo’ at you. Despite the mild irritation you felt, from almost hearing all he had to say in your mind in human tongue from his irritation of being turned into this, you couldn’t help the way your face crumbled into a grin. Lifting a hand to rub the bridge of your nose, you take a moment to simply breathe and bask in the irony of the situation you find yourself in. Cackling you shook your head, trying to hide your amusement behind your hand, but the sound already reached the bird’s ears and he was already sauntering over to the edge of the desk as if to scold you for ‘not taking this seriously enough’. 

More coos came from him as you offered no response, but this time much less sharp but more defeated as his big wings stood half outstretched - it’s not everyday one gets turned into an animal, and Veritas was certainly not adapting swiftly to the clumsy yet deadly feet of this avian. His walk was awkward as he shuffled across the desk, his feathery back now turned to you as he looked for something.

Audibly letting out a soft ‘awh’, you approach the desk again, muttering an apology to him. Your words are met with his head spinning around to look at you 180 degrees, cartoonishly funny and beyond amusing. “I’m sorry alright.. No need to go  sulking about. Doubt you’d be able to do much like this anyway, and goodness knows I’d burn in hell if I just left you- leaving you like this'' you cackle a little as you reach out to rub the top of his head. He ducks away, so you leave him be. “I will help you out, okay? We’re in this together, but you’ll have to be a little more cooperative with me, Veritas”

He looks at you, clicking his little beak as he swishes his way to another corner of the desk, flapping his wings, and only then do you realize just how hot it was in the room, a warm breath of air making the layers of clothes stick to you like second skin. It must be no better for him with all those feathers. “Lucky you, I’m off work for the rest of the day. How about we get you a bath, hm?”

 Just like before, the owl’s head turned around, but this time its big eyes looked at you in a way they appeared to praise you for such a fantastic idea. Ever the person to not ask for help, had you not asked, the owl would have stayed here to swelter in the heat. “You like that, hm?” you coo at him, unable to hold back the mirth you found in the way he behaved - it is still a mystery for how long he’ll stay in this form, so it’s best to enjoy every moment while you could.

“Sometimes I wonder if you love those baths more than you even love me” you say out loud, holding your arm outstretched so the big bird can hop onto your forearm, you see it’s feathery ears perking, and another angry 'hooooo' went flying out from him, his chest puffing out in defense, scolding you for even posing such a stupid statement while he can’t verbally refute it. Sure, the doctor never directly spoke of his affections for you, but it should be without a doubt he favors you in more ways than one, and he definitely loves you more than his baths.

Nonetheless, you respond to his noise with a small smile as you carry him to the bathroom, a low hum coming forth from your throat as the silence due to the absence of his voice feels odd. You never realized before how much his voice filled your every day, specifically at home, although the silence between the two of you as you relaxed or went about your own thing wasn’t rare either. 

As the water began to fill the tub, Veritas found his purchase on one edge, watching as the water swirled inside, cool and radiating, tempting him to simply hop in right away. Not wanting to risk him drowning, you stopped the water from filling the tub whole, leaving enough water for him to sit comfortably in. “You need help getting in?” you asked as you looked at the big owl who, without a word(well, sound), hopped into the water, big wings spreading across as much as the tub would allow them to go. Water engulfed him from all sides as he splashed and dove his head swiftly underneath the water before coming up to shake the water off his face. Chuckling, you crouched down and rested your arms on the edge, one arm extending lower so the fingers could touch the water and flick some water on your beloved lover-turned-bird.

“WHOO” he says, a light gurgle in his howl as water splashed into his beak, prompting him to give a fast shake of his head. Now soaked and finally cool, he let his wings simply hang in the water with only his head bobbing on the water’s surface. It was like a purr, his next sound, a soft little ‘huuuu’ as he let his big eyes fall shut as the coolness licked up his feathers.

“I suppose this will have to become the new routine, until we can get you to turn back, that is” you comment as you look around for that one thing you never saw Ratio’s bath go without. The little duck floatie wasn’t too far off, standing on one of the shelves beside the bathtub, watching over the precious bathtub like a little guard before you retrieved it to sit beside Veritas. He looked at the duckie, which looked much bigger than he remembered, then up at you, then back at the duckie’s googly eyes. A sigh followed as the bird went back to cleaning himself off, his tail flicking back and forth, spraying water at you. 

Holding up your hand over your face in a frail attempt to shield yourself didn’t deter Veritas from subtly (but not so subtly) trying to splash you with the cool water. From the flap of his wings and down to the swish of his big tail, the water came flying at you. You laugh after the initial splash hits you, in disbelief at his action but no less happy to see it happen. And in retaliation, you cup your hand in the water and splash him back. “Don’t spray your water at me, you reek, you big bird!” you tease, earning a rather alarmed look from the bird before he dove down under the surface, fluffing his feathers as he came onto the surface to ruffle them. He yelled at you, bopping over to where you were and nudged at your hand. 

“You want me to wash you?” you guessed, and you guessed right as the next cry was more urgent as he extended one clawed leg up to grab around your fingers and draw you in. “Oh, yes, we can’t have you stinking up the place, no sir. If we do, then who’s to say we won’t have someone knocking on our doors to ask about the smell” you keep up your playful demeanor, fully knowing you will earn another earful from Veritas once his beak is turned back to human mouth. You giggle nonetheless, reaching your hand to begin and rub into his feathers. “I should go get you some bird-safe soap too, I don’t want to risk it with the soap we have” You tell him, and he seems understanding enough, a soft coo meeting your ears as a reply.

So many thoughts swirled in your head as you thought of the way you carefully had to handle his wings and the ways to help him turn back to his normal self. Ideas fell short from reality, sending you back to square one. Bringing this situation up to some of the higher ups at the Intelligentsia Guild seemed as the most plausible idea, while simultaneously being something that would most likely earn dislike from your lover here. While you took time to think of possible ways to help him, you could only hope that prolonged transformation like this had no dire side effects.

Three days flew by quickly. Books piled up on your desk and around the house, and the Guild has provided quite some solutions to your little problem - they were eager to get the genius back in their midst, but you only wanted to get Veritas out of this form. 

The weird food concoctions you had to feed the poor man(bird) made you feel sick, but he took it like a champion, only sighing, inhaling and then eating the food. Sometimes he’d fly around the rooms to get his exercise in, or to distract himself from the horrid tasting food; sometimes he’d wait for you around the kitchen to give him a sweeter tasting thing to cleanse his pallet, and other times he’d simply nap. You found out he slept a lot during the day, reminding you of cats. Your own sleeping schedule had gone to ruins and that was no fault of his - you simply wanted to help him where you could and spend time with him, entertaining him or feeding him. 

Yet, you couldn’t deny that the poor sleep has quickly caught up to you as you stifle another yawn. Now it was your time to relax in the bath, and the water did wonders to your muscles and mind alike. Suds slid down your neck and dipped back into the water as you sat down the scrubby sponge down aside in favor of resting, submerged up to the chin in the bubbly water.

No wonder he liked baths so much, you think, mind blanking otherwise. A distant flutter barely made your mind perk, until the small clink of claws on the bath’s edge had you flinching. 

“Veritas!- Didn’t I say that you should at least chirp if you fly towards me” With a small sigh you relax again. For all his big wings, he still flew as silently as the breath of the breeze.  You’d never get used to it. “Do you need anything, I'm afraid I can't help you right away, I’m a bit busy now” you mutter, your lower lip touching the water before you tilt your head up at him. His owlish eyes looked at the water, then at you, before he performed a small hop, landing on your knees that barely touched the surface of the water. “Want to join me, huh..? You know, you really shouldn’t, this isn’t that bird shampoo I bought for you” Veritas puffs his feathers in defiance, noting how the water was now deep, but with you a breath away, he let himself fall in. The suds rising and sticking to his feathers.  He cooed and squawked, flapping his wings and splashing the water. 

You quickly dipped your hands underneath, finding his clawed feet and offering him purchase so he doesn’t struggle, even if his big wings did a great job at keeping him afloat. There could never be a lack of caution, 

“Ratioooo” you whined, frowning and preparing to give him an earful before the weight in your hands grew tenfold, a sudden flicker and a flash of light blinding you to what actually happened in that fragment of a moment. Gasping you felt some water splash into your nose and mouth, the chemical taste of soap making your frown and hiss while the water being splashed over the floor alarmed you to no end.

“Ow-!” you winced, pulling your hands back from underneath the weight. Coughing resonated in the room, and this time it didn’t come from you.

“Veritas!?” Without even seeing him you recognized him, the mere sound of his coughs being enough to make your heart spring with mirth and a sense of triumph. You pushed back, the bathtub suddenly becoming too crowded, and looked up at him. Water dripped down his body, and before he could reply, his knee caught onto the slippery side of the tub, gravity pulling him down into the water and over you. Water splashed more, but you could only open your arms to catch him.

One had slipped underneath you, holding your upper back while the other held onto the edge of the tub to keep himself from falling any lower. He cleared his throat, blinking the water from his eyes. As you cheered his name and held him so closely, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, his cheeks struggling to fight the blush from rising up to them. Despite the initial shock and a wave of frustration that the soapy water caused by irritating his eyes, he couldn’t help but bask in the pure mirth you oozed. A childish joy that could stifle even his irritation - especially his. 

“VERITAS!” You cheered, all fatigue leaving your body as you held him again, your fingers not meeting the feathers but smooth and wet skin of his muscled back. His wet hair stuck to his forehead and a few stray hairs poked at his eyelids until he pushed his hair back. His mind reeled at the sudden loss of his much lighter form, and far more complicated one. Although he yearned to be human again for all the time he spent in his owl form, now he found it weird to feel fingers at the ends of his arms again. But what he had missed the most was this hold around his shoulders. 

“IT WORKED! You’re back, finally!” Your voice rang in his ears, reminding him of the ugly taste on his tongue and the shame he felt when you brought him into the HQ of the Guild, him perched on your shoulder and standing taller than the others - as always. 

“I told you- I-” he sputtered, but only groaned as words failed to form on his tongue. Has he gone mute from only cooing and howling?  “Pftt..” he chuckled, low and raspy as he pushed himself back, reeling you back with him to properly sit in the bath. He watched you lean back for only a few moments, your big smile forming the apples of your cheeks while your wet palm cupped his cheek. It made his breath hitch, and he’d be damned to admit, but he was sure his heart skipped a beat as well. Not wasting another moment, he pulled your back into his embrace, his face hidden away over your shoulder.

“You’re enjoying this far too much” Veritas spoke, even as a smile stretched across his features.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[saintobio]

₊˚✩ starlight.

pairings. l&ds xavier, fem!reader tags. 800+ wc. jealous bf!xavier, fluff, reverse hurt/comfort, main story long awaited revelry spoilers, altered some scenes, may or may not be inspired by his tender nights memory :’) dividers by strangergraphics.

xavier isn’t exactly the happiest when you returned to linkon city after being in the n109 zone. don’t get him wrong—he’s absolutely grateful that you came back safe and whole. it’s just that… he didn’t like how your eyes sparkled when you started mentioning his greatest adversary: sylus.

you’re obviously suppressing a smile too, as you reminisce the events that occurred between you and the onychinus leader. you’re particularly giddy about that moment at the auction, it seems, where you said you had to play the part of being sylus’s partner for the night.

dammit, xavier feels his chest tightening when he imagines those scenes in his head. he wants to cover his ears badly, but has no other choice but listen intently. all he can do is listen in silence and try to bottle every spark of jealousy that ignited within him. he has to pretend that he’s happy and proud of you, but then again, he just can’t freaking ignore the way your face lit up at the mention of sylus. 

xavier sighs as you continue your enthusiastic storytelling. fine, then. he sulks to himself. just have to get this day over with.

~

date night came, and as you walk through the city garden, you notice xavier’s silence grew more pronounced. you try to engage him, but his responses are rather curt, his usual warmth replaced by a cold distance. during dinner, even his favorite hotpot couldn’t lift his spirits. he would push the food around on his plate, barely having the appetite to eat.

huh? that’s new, you muse. xavier is usually the most excited to eat hotpot on a cold day.

when he takes you to your place later that night, the tension is palpable. you know you have to bring it up at that point. otherwise, this game of silence will never end.

“xav, is something wrong?” you try to ask in a soft, comforting voice. 

but xavier only shakes his head, forcing his usual endearing smile. “nothing’s wrong. you should go to sleep.”

~

that same evening, xavier sits at his desk, staring at his laptop screen for more than an hour. his fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitating before he finally types into the anonymous forum.

starlight123: what do you do if your gf keeps talking about another guy? i love her, but it’s driving me crazy. any advice?

he hits post and leans back, running a hand through his hair. the minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last. then, the replies start coming in.

anonymous user: talk to her about it. anonymous user: maybe she doesn’t realize how it’s affecting you. anonymous user: communication is key, bro.

but one comment stood out, cutting through the well-meaning advice like a knife.

anonymous user: it's game over for you, man. girls like toxic boys who treat them like dirt. you're too nice. she probably already slept with him.

xavier’s heart sank.. he quickly closes the laptop, feeling an uncomfortable pang on his chest. is he really losing you to someone like sylus?

~

the next few days are torture. xavier stopped responding to your messages. he stopped commenting on your moments posts. he won’t even ask you to play kitty cards or catch plushies on the claw machines. and even if you see him around, he’s always distant, giving you brief, obligatory smiles. he still greets tara warmly, but with you, there’s always this thick wall in between. he's acting like a stranger, as if he doesn't care about you, as if he's not dating you...

agh, you can’t stand it anymore!

one night, you find yourself knocking on his door, needing desperate answers for your desperate questions.

xavier then opens the door, sweaty and out of breath. a dumbbell lay on his living room floor, and his hair is pushed back, revealing a flushed face.

“new hairstyle?” you ask, stepping inside and noticing the sudden eccentricity in his movements. “what are you doing, boyfriend?”

xavier’s cheeks are limned with a red tint as he looks away. “nothing.”

“are you trying to gain more muscles?” you press, amusement edging your voice.

at this, he lets out a defeated sigh and finally faces you. “do you prefer tall, muscular guys?” the sudden question came out of nowhere, until it was followed by another, and that’s when you started seeing the pattern. “do you… do you like bad boys more?” 

“xav, why are you asking me this?” crossing your arms, you tilt your head so his avoidant eyes would meet yours. 

“well, you can answer me first.” 

“not until you look me in the eyes!” 

still, he refuses to meet your gaze and his voice wavers with insecurity when he spoke, “it's okay, i get it. you do prefer guys like that.” his eyes stays on the floor, turning his face away. “if so, then i may not be like them, but i can still make you happy in my own little ways.”

your heart immediately melts at his words. it all makes sense now. him working out in the middle of the night, him styling his hair up, him trying to act like he doesn’t care about you—he’s trying to be sylus!

stepping closer, you chuckle and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a sweet kiss. “xavier, you’re the only one i like. i’ll never replace you.” you place another peck on his lips, then on his cheek, then on his nose. “besides, sylus is annoying. i prefer the presence of my very adorable golden retriever boyfriend!”

“you really mean it?” his puppy eyes stares at you earnestly.

your response is a confident nod. “i swear it. and, duh! lumiere is way hotter than him.”

his arms encircles your waist, holding you tightly as he lifts your chin and plants a tender kiss on your lips. the tension eventually melts away as you reassure him with your touch and your words. in that moment, all his jealousy and insecurity faded, now replaced by the warmth of your love. “you’re mine,” he reminds, nose nuzzling into yours. “i don’t want to share you with anyone else.” 

[nicxl333]

LUSTFUL TENDENCIES— WRIOTHESLEY X READER

bro…i just finished the 4.1 archon quest and omfg i’m going mad over wrio- fucking hell

characters: wriothesley, afab! reader

summary: you almost get caught giving wriothesley a blowjob so he punishes you in his office (not proof-read)

warnings: 18+ content, nsfw, semi-public smut, blowjob, handcuffs, spanking, established relationship, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, squirting, breeding, slight 4.1 spoilers

it wasn’t supposed to end up this way. hell, you had only made your way into the fortress of meropide to deliver an urgent message from neuvillete to none other than the duke himself, your boyfriend.

so how oh how did you end up with a mouth stuffed full of dick?

“fuck…that’s it beautiful, doing so— so well for me” wriothesley groaned, pushing his bangs back from his face.

you moaned around his dick in appreciation and gratitude at his praise, your cunt pulsing at the sheer sinfulness of the situation. you knew damn well that anyone could see what was going on should they venture even one step too far up the staircase leading to the open plan of his office. truth be told they wouldn’t even have to set foot on the stairs, for they would hear the sloppy sounds of your mouth long beforehand.

your eyes gazed into his, enjoying how he fell apart at the sight of your mouth engulfing every inch of him. the way his eyes clenched shut, scar just below his right eye compressing as it followed the movements of his eyes squeezing from the overwhelming pleasure.

he could feel the coil in his stomach tightening, his resolve unravelling as he tried to regain his composure and control, albeit failing to find any reason to given how you were taking care of him so fucking well.

alas, before his end could occur, the sound of his heavy door opening downstairs and footsteps audible caused both parties to freeze, the risk of your filthy secret threatening to be discovered.

proving his ability to act instantaneously under pressure he lifted you off his soaked cock, pushing you under his desk and reeling in his chair so his state of undress would not be identified should whoever was quickly approaching wander too close to his grand desk.

after a continuous rhythm of steps, a head poked through, the figure confirmed to be chef wolsey.

wriothesley briefly glanced down at you, his eyes sharp in a silent warning;

stay. silent.

you spared him a single smirk just before he lifted his head to look at the man who was now standing before him.

“how can i help you today wolsey? if it’s for time off you already know the drill, you need to give in credit coupons.”

above your head you could hear the chef speak.

“ah, your grace, it’s not about that. if you are lenient enough i would need your authorisation on a slight change to the ingredients of the welfare meals. i have discovered a correlation of stomach bugs occurring with numerous inmates possibly due to the type of milk used.”

really and truly, you couldn’t give a shit on the status of the inmates, as cruel as it sounded. you just wanted to be filled by wriothesley, and wolsey was currently cockblocking you. so you did the one thing that was advised against.

“i suppose that can be done, given that it’ll lessen my work load should i allow this matter to be resolved. just give me the required paperwork and i can give you clearan—”

he immediately tensed up, seizing in the middle of his sentence. why? because he felt your hand slowly stroking his girth. although taken by surprise, he did his best to not show it, opting to clear his throat in an attempt to save himself.

“umm, sir, are you alright?”

your hand tightened on wriothesley’s dick, twisting as you stroked, your smirk widening with your wicked intentions. you could see his thighs taut and fists clenched, trying so hard to not react. he couldn’t talk, he knew if he opened his mouth to speak he would either let out a groan or moan. whatever the outcome, both were highly unsavoury and would no doubt get you caught. after a few moments of silence wolsey pressed further.

“erm…your grace?”

you slightly loosened your grip and slowed down your movements to allow the man in front of you to save his dignity, if he even had any left.

he lifted a bandaged hand, waving it around in a dismissive motion. “yes yes, i’m quite alright. don’t you have ingredients to be chopping or something? best get to it.”

wolsey immediately nodded, turning towards the stairs and swiftly making his way down. only when wriothesley was certain he was gone did he push you off him and pushed his chair back, pulling you upwards and slamming you on his desk.

“oh you are so fucked baby. did you enjoy us almost getting caught?”

he leaned over you, caging you in while he started rubbing your clit through your panties, eliciting a moan from you.

“yeah i know you enjoyed that, you’re fucking soaked you dirty girl. want me to fuck you?”

he pressed harder on your clit, rendering you unable to speak. you arched your back and rolled your hips in time with wriothesley’s hand, maximising the pleasure. when he didn’t hear an answer however he took it upon himself to bring a hand down against your left cheek, the stinging sensation leaving you crying out at the pain mixed with pleasure.

“answer me y/n, do you want me to fuck you?”

“yes wrio please! it feels so good!” the strokes of his fingers increased in rapidness, the friction of the fabric against your clit quickly bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

“you gonna cum pretty girl?”

“shit— yes wrio!”

“well that’s too damn bad.” and he pulled away altogether, standing at full height and looking down at you.

you turned your head to look at him, eyes wide with the fear he would leave you like this, unsatisfied.

“wrio please! make me cum, i need you so bad baby!”

he stood, arms crossed and expression unwavering.

“oh you do now? maybe you should’ve thought about that before you pulled that little stunt of yours.”

you wiggled your ass at him hoping to break down his resolve.

“wrio i’m sorry, i’ll be good for you i swear.”

he said nothing, instead opting to move closer to stand right behind you, dick now pressing against your clit, making your breath hitch. you heard movements of metal behind you, wondering what he was doing until he leant closer over you, chest to your back which pressed his dick even further into you. you moaned out, too distracted to realise just what he was doing until he grabbed both your wrists, bringing them together and cuffing them with his handcuffs.

he stepped back to look at his handiwork, smirking as your arms flailed to the best of your ability, struggling to get free. he then bent down, kneeling while he pulled down your panties, looking at your cunt shining with arousal.

“wrio! what are you doing?!”

“you want to get fucked right? i’m just fulfilling your wish, with the exception of one thing of course: you can’t cum.”

you whined out, jolting when you felt extremely cold fingers against your entrance, tracing the seeping hole. it was apparent that he used the power from his cryo vision to lower the temperature of his palm.

“wrio! c’mon i said i was sorr-”

you cut yourself off when you felt two of his fingers breach your entrance, stuffing you to the hilt. his fingers were thick as it is, so you already felt extremely full. even worse when he curled them against that spongey spot in your cunt and started attacking it.

your thighs immediately tried to close, proving to be quite the useless action once his iron grip prevented you from doing so.

“aht, aht, if you know what’s good for you y/n you’ll comply like a good girl, you’re already in deep shit as it is.”

and so, you succumbed to the pleasure of the sensation you were feeling, moaning at wriothesley’s ministrations on your pussy. he leaned over you once more, this time feeling his bare dick directly on your bare clit. he licked the shell of your ear, whispering into it seconds later.

“yeah does that feel good y/n? go on, tell me how good i’m making you feel.”

“so fucking good wrio! i want more— want you to fuck me. don’t hold back, i can take it.”

he complied, removing his fingers and moving his dick down to your entrance, using your previous lubrication and current arousal to fully coat his angry red tip, before slowly pushing in.

your back arched hard into a ‘c’, your hands doing what they could to grip onto his desk despite being cuffed.

he laughed at your actions, continuing to sheath himself inside you until you were completely filled, resting for a moment before slowly pulling out again. he repeated this action multiple times, teasing you to see just how long it would be until you completely snapped.

“wrio! can you stop fucking around and jus— oh fuck!”

his change in pace was instantaneous, his thrusts pounding against your ass, having you moan out in ecstasy. he quickly pulled his tie from around his neck, putting it around yours and pulling so your head fell back, being able to see him above you and therefore his next words to you.

“be quiet baby, or i’ll stop.”

although his door downstairs was big and heavy, it wasn’t soundproof. and if you didn’t shut the fuck up someone was bound to hear.

you nodded your head, opting to let out whimpers of approval instead. he doubled his pace, something you didn’t even know was possible, almost as if he was challenging you to disobey him once more.

it was becoming increasingly difficult to not cum. his thrusts drove so deep inside you it felt like you couldn’t breathe in the short burst of intervals between thrusts. each push of his hips against yours had the veins on the underside of his dick rubbing up against your g-spot, something that quickly had you tumbling towards the edge. you knew wriothesley knew that, how could he not when all he could feel was your cunt gripping him so tightly?

it’s not like he was well off either, he was quickly losing himself inside you too. although you had been dating for a little over 7 months, he still could not find himself getting used to the way you clenched around him. it had him quickly unraveling the exact same way you did, and delving deep into the pits of no return.

“you gonna cum?” his voice was strained, composure tethering on a thin thread, threatening to collapse.

“n- no.” a lie. you both knew that. he decided to play along though.

“good. cause you can’t cum.”

“wrio!” you had no choice but to beg, for you were quite literally about to cum. his earlier actions had already brought you to the edge, but now you were delirious with pleasure, and had no way to stop yourself from cumming. you already did what you could. “please! let me cum, let me cum! i’m sorry baby i really am, i need you to make me cum! i’m begging you, just do something, anything!”

wriothesley had no other option but to allow you to, given that he was about to cum himself.

“go ahead y/n, make a mess for me.”

with his approval, you immediately felt the coil inside your stomach snap, causing you to gush around his cock. you moaned out his name as quiet as you could, which wasn’t very quiet at all. he never stopped thrusting, allowing your essence to go everywhere. on your thighs, on his, and dripping on the floor. your cunt was gripping wriothesley like a vice, and he fell victim to his own orgasm, hands on your hips tightening, groaning deeply while spilling every drop into your spent pussy. his thighs shook from the sheer intensity as he slowly came to a stop.

all was silent for a moment, as you both breathed heavily, hot and exhausted from what had just taken place. after a while, wriothesley was the first to move, slipping out of you and grabbing some tissues from the side of his desk, wiping delicately at your cunt before pulling up your panties and releasing your wrists from his cuffs with a key from his draw. he gave your temple a kiss before pulling away.

he then fixed himself up, tucking himself away back into his pants and taking his tie back from your neck, wiping the sweat from his forehead and sitting back in his chair, pulling you down with him and engulfing you in a hug.

“now then, would you like some tea before you go?”

[bbunnyyy]

★ SHINSOU X READER

▻ Summary: You and Shinsou get caught by his mentor. [implied fem reader, aged up characters.]

▻ Fluff, awkward stuff, hope you like it <3

☁ I try to hide it in my face and it don't work, you see through that I just wanna get with you... ☁

A/n: good luck to those of you who have exams!

What is this, a funeral? Play some music: You right by Doja Cat

☀︎

You walked into the lounge behind the staff room to check on Eri. Present Mic being your mentor and Eraserhead being Shinsou's, you both had special privileges. One of them being steaming hot coffee on cold days.

Eri was lying on her tummy on the floor, colouring with pastels. "[Onee/ Onii] -san, you're back!" she exclaimed joyfully, jumping into your arms. You chuckled, catching the small child and encasing her in your arms. Eraserhead had put you on Eri-watch duty since he'd be busy for the rest of the evening. "Look! Look! I drew Papa Mic and Dada holding hands in front of their house and You and Onii san holding hands in the yard!" Eri showed you excitedly. "You're so good at drawing, Eri-chan!" You exclaimed while kneeling down to the now beaming girl's level. "Wait a minu- Why are me and Shinsou holding hands??"

"Mmm. Very interesting." A voice came from behind you, which you responded to with a squeak. Eri ran into the Shinsou's arms, the artwork now forgotten. "Shin! Don't scare us like that." You said while telling him off. "Oh, boo hoo. I can't help that you're a scardey cat." Shinsou said, rolling his eyes and walking towards the sofa. "You sneak up behind a person and then make fun of them for being surprised? What a bleak time to live in." You tutted, shaking your head sarcastically. "Enough bickering, Y/N. There are more important matters at hand, like watching Cinderella." Eri cheered happily as you sat on the couch, Shinsou starting the movie. Eri cuddled into you as she sang along to the songs, having watched the movie before.

"I'll head to the vending machine, Do you guys want anything?" You piped up, feeling thirsty. Eri, absorbed in the movie with her mouth agape shook her head half-mindedly. Standing up, you made your way to the corridor. Looking out the windows, you saw the trees gently swaying in the wind, highlights of the golden sunlight illuminating the bark. It was almost sundown, you thought to yourself. Sensei would be back soon. Standing in front of the machine, you kicked it. The darn thing was acting up again. Your head turned at hearing soft footsteps from the other side of the corridor. It was the purple-haired idiot dragging his feet along the floor, yawning while rubbing the back of his head. "Eri's asleep so I thought I'd give you some company." Shinsou said, mid-yawn. "Hmph. Like I'd savour your company." You stated, pursing your lips.

Shinsou backed you into the wall. "Speak up, pretty girl." Shinsou smirked while looking into your eyes. Smirking yourself, "In simpler words your pea brain can understand- you're boring." Tilting his head, Shinsou closed the gap between you two. "That's not what you were saying last night." He said, now nipping at your neck. "We should stop Shin, we need to get back to Eri-chan." You two jumped away from each other when a loud yawn interrupted your moment, the both of you looking in the direction of the disturbance. Eri was walking towards you two, sleepily rubbing her eyes. "The movie's almost oveer.." Eri wailed, putting her hands up wanting to be picked up. Big bro Shinsou swooped in, picking her off her feet.

☾

Shinsou put a cranky Eri to sleep as you stood leaning on one of the desks while looking at the now-black sky through the huge windows. You yawned, feeling sluggish yourself. You made a mental note of the things you'd have to do when you got back to the dorms. Rubbing your eyes, you looked at Shinsou who was now walking towards you. He stretched his arm to reach behind you, turning the lights down to dim the room. Your eyes wandered the room, falling on Eri, whose chest rose and fell as she breathed softly. Shinsou moved to stand in front of you, placing his hands on your hips and nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. His hands snaked up to your back as you held him close, wordlessly. "Tired?" You chuckled, running your hands through his hair to comfort him. "I think I should change my name to Mr.Eyebags at this point." Shinsou joked, his hands now roaming your body.

You let out a gasp as your body made a 'thud' sound as it came into contact with the desk. Your hands were above your head, held firmly in place by Shinsou's muscular arms. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, whining about how Eri was in the room and how Aizawa Sensei would be back any moment. Shinsou hunched over you, shushing you by placing a slender finger on your pouty lips. Not wanting to look at him, you turned your head in rebellion. "Oh, is that how you're going to play princess?" Shinsou said, pinning you down with one hand. Shinsou tickled your tummy and you resisted your very best from giving in laughing. You burst into a fit of giggles along with him just when you heard someone clearing their throat as the lights in the room flickered on.

Shinsou widened his eyes. "S..Sensei." Shinsou stuttered, trying to explain himself. You sat up, mortified. "Shinsou. Y/N." Aizawa said, pressing his temples. "How long has this been going on?" Aizawa questioned you both shifted your weight from one foot to another awkwardly. "A couple months." You piped up, your gaze falling to the floor. "We weren't gonna keep it a secret forever." Shinsou said, walking over to you. Aizawa shook his head. "I'm not saying I'm against it." Aizawa stated, now looking at you both. The silence in the room was loud, the three of you staring at each other. "....Is Yamada Sensei going to hear about this?" You questioned, wishing you could be buried a few thousand feet under the ground. "You bet." Aizawa shrugged, turning on his heel to walk towards the sofa. "Set a good example for your younger sister." Aizawa said, side-eyeing you both while picking up Eri who was still asleep.

Shinsou and You stood in silence for a while after Aizawa stepped out the room. "Wanna walk back to the dorms together?" Shinsou proposed, resting his hand on the small of your back. You nodded. "Sensei is never going to let go of this." You groaned, imaging the amount of teasing you'd have to endure from your mentor and Aizawa Sensei. "Good thing we're graduating soon, eh?" Shinsou said, poking your stomach with his elbow.

[arminsumi]

requesting the first years witnessing gojo flirt with reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

A/N: i love this idea sm i hope u like how i wrote it 👀💗

Wc ≈ 800

Pairing: GOJO Satoru x reader

Summary: Yuji, Nobara and Megumi 'accidentally' overheard you and Gojo flirting in the classroom 👀

Warnings; kinda cheesy/goofy/overdramatic, poor megumi lmfao

Passing down the hall, Yuji heard a murmuring of yours and Gojo’s voices coming from inside a vacant classroom, so he strained his ears to listen.

“I swear, your sweet tooth is insatiable… Gojo, you really should quit sugar.”

“Aw, but how could I possibly give you up?”

Yuji’s face contorted into amusement and disbelief after hearing that little exchange.

“Yuji, what the hell are you doing – ”

He hissed for Nobara to be quiet and come eavesdrop with him. So she did, albeit a bit confused at first, but in a few minutes she and him were stifling their snickering and pressing their cheeks flat to the thin sliding door.

“What did Y/n just say?? MEGUMI! Get over here.” Nobara whisper-shouted and beckoned the ravenette who appeared around the corner.

“Why?”

“JUST COME OVER HERE.”

“For what?!”

Yuji and Nobara practically dragged him over and forced him to join in their eavesdropping. He gives them a confused look but there’s a spark of curiosity in his eyes when he hears the murmur of your voice.

“I’m not your sugar, so stop calling me that – ”

“ – how about I call you my sugarbaby?”

“Satoru!” your giggle came from the other side of the door.

“Ooh, you’re calling my first name now? That’s so indecent.”

“I’m not gonna be your sugarbaby – ”

“ – you don’t want me to be your sugardaddy?!” Gojo acted offended and raised his voice.

Yuji and Nobara were desperately trying to keep it together, but their snickering and giggling kept getting worse until they were besides themselves with laughter – out of breath, seal-sounds and all. Megumi looked absolutely appalled and borderline distraught (he had a boyish crush on you).

“Stop eavesdropping, you three.”

“OH SHIT.” Nobara finally cracked and broke down laughing loudly with Yuji.

Gojo slid the door open with a smack, and they began to scramble immediately. You just peered from behind the desk where you were signing documents.

“W – wheehaha – we heard nothing! I swear!” Yuji promised.

“Sheesh, I didn’t think anyone in this world would be attracted to the likes of Gojo. Y/n, you can do better.” Nobara muttered.

“I – the audacity, I’m standing right here. Nobara, expect a forehead flick later.”

The three of them tumbled out of the halls and discussed you and Gojo like a hot topic.

“D’you think they’re like… actually dating?!” Yuji asked incredulously, standing on the last step of the stairs.

“Probably.” Nobara shrugged.

“Ugh…”

“Cheer up, Megumi. It’s not the end of the world.” Yuji chuckled.

Megumi just pouted and sat on the stairs, spreading his legs out and looking up at the sky very melancholically. He was so dramatic that the other two just laughed.

“D’you think they actually went on a date last weekend?” Yuji pondered.

“Ohhh… yeah, that’s probably what that was all about.”

“Gross!” Megumi whined.

“Megumi I’ve never seen you so jealous before.”

“What the hell, I’m not jealous!” he denounced.

Gojo came out to meet those three at the base of the stairs at just the right moment.

“You always say that you’re gonna marry Y/n when you grow up.” Yuji said.

“NO I DON’T? YOU’RE TWISTING MY WORDS, YUJI.”

Gojo placed a big hand on his head and gave him the fright of his life. He groaned when he realized you two just heard everything. Yuji and Nobara lost it laughing again.

“Sorry to steal your future wife.” He joked.

“BRO WHAT THE HELL – YUJI’S JUST JOKING!” Megumi’s cheeks reddened.

You walked out next, just the sight of you threw Nobara and Yuji right back into a fit of laughter that they were just struggling to get out of.

“Megumi, what’s the matter?” you asked.

“Nothing, I’m good – YUJI SHUT UP!”

He tackled Yuji right as he opened his mouth to say something. “Nobara – don’t – you – dare.”

“Hey future wife.” Gojo greeted you cheekily. You rolled your eyes.

“Hey future ex-husband.” You responded.

Megumi looked so comically distraught, the other two were howling. Gojo just smirked and sunk his hands into his pockets.

“You two, why is Megumi distraught?” you asked them suspiciously.

“He has a crush on you.” Nobara said.

Megumi went fully red. He looked as if he was contemplating summoning Shikigami on Nobara. Before he even checked your reaction or paid attention to his other teacher’s stifled giggles, he went rigid and stiffly walked away.

“So future wife… about that date.” Gojo said rather loudly.

“I KNEW IT!” Yuji hollered. Him and Nobara went off again, Megumi let out the most dramatic groan you’ve ever heard.

[gummygowon]

my girl(s) | choi san

word count: 1.27k hehe

genre: fluff bro so much, slight childhood friends to lovers, established relationship, soon to be dad!san x pregnant!reader

warnings: san just worrying too much that he gets exhuasted

song playlist: my girl - the temptations, be my baby - the ronettes, la vie en rose - èdith piaf

author's note: seeing san get heated about how that one husband treats his wife made me think about how sweet and caring san would be in a relationship and then i started playing fifties's music and boom here where we are

choi san was just an absolute gentlemen, it was one of the many reasons why you loved him so much.

you vividly remember when you were younger, san declaring to the dinner table that his wife's hands will never be wet in the future, promising that he will be doing everything for her which impressed all the other neighborhood parents. a few parents joked at him to remember their daughters in the future which you rolled your eyes at. san was obviously bluffing and trying to impress everyone. you found it hard to believe that a man would be able to care so much for his wife like san said.

it was almost laughable how wrong child you was.

san quite literally did everything around the house, always insisting that you go lie down and relax even though he just came home from work. it was definitely a hassle trying to get your husband to relax let alone sit down after dinner since he was always insisting that he did the dishes even if he cooked.

"san, baby go shower," you whisper into his ear while he was doing the dishes, "let me do this. go relax."

instantly turning around in protest, san folds his arms in front of his chest, "no."

"san," you warn, the mother in your voice coming out.

"absolutely not." san protests, standing up even taller to tower over you, "you are my pregnant wife who needs to rest. i need my girls to rest."

"san, we don't even know the gender yet." you argue. it was only today that you found out you were pregnant after you realized that you were two weeks late and sped to the nearest drugstore for a test.

"i know but i think we're having a girl." san says knowing with smile on his face, he was just getting excited at the thought of having a baby girl. "still though, you should rest."

"san, i'm fine, you on the other hand should rest."

"but-"

"who has a eight hour shift at seven am tomorrow baby?"

"i do." san dejectedly answers with a pout on his face. san didn't hate his job as a martial arts instructor but if he had to choose between you and his job, he would choose you without a doubt over and over again.

"i promise when my belly grows you can pamper me all you want but not yet. you still need to take care of yourself before i'm unable to take care of myself."

"promise?" he asks as he intertwined his fingers with you.

"promise." you answer before sealing the deal with a kiss.

a few months later, when the baby bump began to show, san became even more protective of you.

finally on your maternity leave, you spent the time at home reading parenting books and knitting clothes for your baby making an assortment of colors. sometimes, you ventured down to the dojo that was connected to the house causing san to stop whatever he was doing and guide you down the stairs.

"yah! choi san!" you shout at your husband who completely abandoned his lesson to aid you, "i can walk down just fine! go back to teaching!"

"no!" he argues before turning back to his class to yell, "five minute water break!"

a collective "yes sir" was heard from the group as the students dispersed to the sidelines.

"san, i love you but i promise i'm fine!"

"i know, but i still worry over you my love." san confesses as he carefully holds your hand as you walk down.

"aigoo..."

closer to your date, you spent most of your days either in the dojo working at the front desk so that san could keep on you (more like you could keep an eye on him) or upstairs reading more parenting books and preparing the baby's room.

"how's the baby?" wooyoung asks, an old friend of san who occasionally stopped by the dojo to check up on you and take out san to relax.

"doing great! the doctors are saying the baby is healthy and don't see any problems or complications yet."

"ahhh, that's great to hear! how's san doing though? still stressing?"

"oh you bet he is." you sigh, running a hand through your hair. "taking him out for a drink tonight?"

"trying to but you know he doesn't like to leave your side."

another sign escapes your lips, it was possible that san was stressing you out by not being able to relax. "i'll convince him. he's been worrying too much."

"good luck with that one." wooyoung laughs.

"woo!" your husband shouts at his best friend coming out of the studio to the front with a towel in hand. "what brings you here?"

"just checking in your wife and the baby." wooyoung starts before flashing a quick glance at you, "but the boys and i are about to head down to the bar if you wanna grab a drink."

"ahhh, you know i would love to but," san says looking down at you with a smile. lately he's been running around the house trying to satisfy you're weird pregnancy cravings and help with the morning sickness all while still working full time down at the dojo. the stress and exhaustion was evident on your poor baby's face as the eye bags deepened and he wasn't his cheery self.

instead of returning the smile, you frown at him confusing san. "go sannie, i'll be fine."

"don't-"

"san, i will be okay." you laugh a little, trying to ease san's nerves, "i'll be down the street okay, baby? you deserve a break."

san looks back at wooyoung who looks eerily similar to the devil on his shoulder. "are you sure? what about dinner?"

"your mom dropped off some soup for us earlier, i can eat that. go out, have fun! you need to have some fun once in awhile baby."

"fine, but not too late." san complies while pointing a finger at wooyoung.

"i promise to bring him before eleven ma'am." wooyoung promises saluting to you before shooing san to go get changed.

"take care of him woo!"

the day of the pregnancy was absolutely terrifying yet exciting. it was the thrill of finally becoming parents that was the only thing keeping you sort of calm. your mind wandered every now and then to the idea of you being a bad mother but san was quick to shut down those thoughts.

you guys still didn't have any idea of what the gender was, deciding it would be fun to find out the day of. san was still confident that you guys were going to have a girl even though all the ajummas begged to differ with their superstitions.

"it's a girl!" the doctor exclaimed cuddling the newbown baby.

"i told you!" san shouts jumping into the air out of excitement before wrapping his arms tightly around you, his lips on your forehead. "thank you. thank you so much." tears of happiness flowed from san's eyes as he held you close, his warm embrace making you feel overwhelmed with his love.

"i love you so so much." san cried into your neck as he looked through blurry eyes at you cradling your daughter.

you couldn't even say anything too tired and overwhelmed to give a proper response. instead, you just cried with san holding the baby so close to your heart.

it felt refreshing? calming? something like that to be able to cry away your emotions. even the worries of becoming a mother washed away and instead hope and excitement for the future replaced the negative thoughts. you couldn't believe that you finally have a kid with the love of your life, not even just the love of your life but your best friend in the whole wide world.

god, you were so lucky to have a san in your life and he was just as lucky or even more to have you in his life. now, the both of you were fortunate to have a third in your new little family.

san let out a sniffle before planting a wet kiss to the crown of your head, "my girls."

[occamstfs]

Legacies Are Supposed To Change

Another fratification, This is one more of a prep to slob tf ! -Occam

My father was a member of Kappa Epsilon Gamma, and my grandfather before him was practically a founding member. I am going to be the third generation Astor to not only pledge but eventually become president. My family donates enough to the chapter to more than pave my way to the top. My only question now is, why are they making me pledge.

The current president, James, clearly didn’t care for me implying that I was getting in regardless, stopping just short of calling me out in front of the other pledges. That’s the only mistake he’s going to make though, when I’m in the frat I’ll completely clean house. That dunce will be lucky to even still be in the frat. I’m already old enough to be the president anyway, I’m sure my father will help the other alumni to agree.

Despite the president’s protests I have already secured a room in the house and I will say the room does seem to be exquisite. The only detail out of place is a pitcher of beer sitting on my desk. The head is still frothy so it must have been put there recently. Before I moved in my father warned me against partying too hard, we have a reputation to uphold after all, and I am not even a big drinker. 

The amber pitcher in front of me, ice cold without a piece of ice within, is more enticing than it ever should be though. The president must have done something to it. Absolutely. But, I  am awfully parched all of a sudden. I feel my mouth rapidly dry as I move closer to inspect the glass. A sip couldn’t hurt, it’s just beer after all. It’s probably that faux president admitting defeat already, no one can stand up to an Astor and prosper after all. 

I raise the pitcher to my mouth, struggling to raise it without spelling as it is heavier than I thought beer could be. The head spills over my face as I tilt the pitcher to drink. It runs down my cheeks and off my chin not that I could notice or care though. This beer is unlike anything I’ve tasted before. It's so, I need more right now. I force as much of it as I can down my throat before needing to take a break to breathe. The brief respite only gives me time to do something I thought unthinkable for a man of such poise as myself, I let out an impossibly loud burp.

I hear frat bros cheering outside my room in response “Yeah bro! Let’s go Tank!” I feel my face redden from the embarrassment of being heard doing something so profoundly basal. I scoff and roll my eyes as I notice how itchy my face suddenly is. It must be the beer starting to dry where I spilled it.

I go to wipe it off and notice it is far scratchier than it has any right to be. It burns even. I feel my face grow an even deeper shade of red as the beer must start to hit my system. I put the pitcher down and start to scratch my cheeks. I’ve never even had to shave before! Us Astor men don’t even grow peach fuzz! It  would be unbecoming to even try to grow a beard! I look in the mirror to assess whatever my situation and find an uncomfortable face staring back at me. That can’t be right. Thick brown hair is pushing out forming a chinstrap that must have taken months to grow! I lean in closer to inspect my face as another burp tries to force its way out of my throat.

Unwilling to embarrass myself once again I fight to keep it down. As I struggle against the gas in my esophagus I notice that my stomach is starting to bloat up. I see the thick brown hair in my beard start to seep up through my sideburns, staining my perfect blonde coifs into some dirty oafish brown. I gasp as my thin eyebrows rapidly burst into heavy caterpillars over my eyes which almost allows the burp to escape.

Clenching my jaw as I feel my stomach starts to press against my dress shirt. I audibly groan as I hear my bros outside start to cheer once more, something about me drinking the pitcher. They left it for me didn't they! What was I supposed to do! This burst of rage allows me to swallow the burp my neck thickening as it forces its way back down. I look down to see the button pop off of my suit jacket as my stomach starts to grumble. I feel woozy watching my torso start to barrel out, what happened to my lithe lacrosse build? My mind feels heavy as I inspect my growing body, I start to smell some vile body odor start to come from somewhere. One of these oafs absolutely needs to invest in cologne. I sniff around before my head finds itself in my own pit as I take a deep inhale and find the root of the stick. But that can’t be right?

My arms bloat out straining my dress shirt as I toss off my coat. I raise my arm behind my head to inspect my armpits further which creates a tear right on the seam, exposing my pit just in time for me to see my few blonde underarm hairs rapidly thicken to the same brown now covering my face. It’s almost funny? I can barely stop myself from laughing as I watch hair spread like a jungle in my pit, creating a haven for odor my body now apparently produces.

Is this because I burped? Is it some kind of sick joke? I’m struggling to find any reason for what is happening when I hear the zipper of my pants give out. Apparently my stomach isn't the only part of me bloating. I need to stop this. Maybe, maybe if I finish the beer without burping again I’ll go back to normal. That, that makes sense right?

I quickly grab the picture and do not notice how much thicker my hand is. Brown hairs sprouting on my hand and knuckles as my fingers grow hammy and lose the dexterity I have long honed. As I raise the glass to my face my stomach finally blows off the buttons as a thick treasure trail forms a peak halfway up my meaty torso. My body odor grows thicker in the air as I start to drink the rest of the glass. 

I feel my ass thicken as it forms a much weighter cushion in my seat, in the other side I feel as my balls rapidly grow to supply my body with the testosterone my body demands. My cock thickens but gets no longer as the beer dribbles down my face spilling all over my chest where curly dark hair spreads out from the center in a large diamond.

I finish the pitcher and shout to celebrate my conquest, “I did it fuckers! I passed the test,” as I shatter the pitcher on the floor of my bedroom, one of the pledges’ll clean that shit up anyway. 

I stand and rip the strained pants off my body as the shirt tears itself off of its own accord, no longer able to even try to hide my party bod. My bros burst into the room and start cheering “Tank, Tank, Tank!” Making me realize that duh, they’re talking about me. My bros have always called me that I burp again, now performativity as my body finishes changing. My eyes lose any pretentious sparkle they still held as they darken to a dull brown. My vocal chords grow visibly thicker, just showing from underneath the thick beard hanging off my face. A clear boner starts to grow in my shorts, not like my bros care.

I shake my package at them with my hand as I finish burping. Now that I’m in the frat I can show my bros that I’m not a fuckin’ prude like my dad and the other fuckin’ geezers. It’s gonna be a great year, now let’s go see which of these bitch pledges are Kappa material!

[holycrimin]

Is It Casual Now?

12!Donnie x Reader

(Friends-to-Pining-Idiots)

AN: wrote this on a whim bc I'm bored and am procrastinating. and also because we don't get enough friends-to-lovers fics lmao (also might make a sequel?). also might be ooc? idk

warnings(?): not alot, mild cussing?, might be a little ooc, mention of apritello but only brief,

_______________

It was a warm summer night...

Actually, who were you kidding? It was freezing. Okay, wait, maybe a bit of an exaggeration. It was still cold though, you stand by that.

"Want me to lower the AC? You look like you're dying."

"hrnn... But what about your experiment-thingy-thing? Wouldn't that like... affect it or something? Or was that the other one?" You ask, sniffling. Oh yeah, did you mention you were sick? Because you're sick. Sick as hell! Haha! haha...

No but seriously, you felt like you were dying. You bet it's not even that cold.

"Nah, don't worry that was the other one. It's in the freezer."

"Aw dude, Mikey might eat it or something."

"No he won't, there're like, a million warning stickers on that thing, he wouldn't—" You gave him a look,

"Crap." He ran out of his lab and went straight to the freezer.

Wait a minute, why were you here again?

Oh yeah, the project. And to hang out with Donnie, sure that too.

He came back with his experiment-thingy clutched in his arms. You sniff, "Dude—" "—Gross,"

"Shut up, anyway,"

"Why didn't you put it in your freezer? You literally have one right there." You pointed at the small metal box (that you're pretty sure he built himself) next to his desk.

"Because there's ice cream in there, and I don't want to share with my brothers."

"So what's your plan now?"

"What?"

"Should we like.. eat some of the ice cream to make room for your weird jelly-thing, orr..."

"Well I didn't think that far, sure, why not." He places the container down on his desk and takes out a small tub of vanilla ice cream.

"Ew, vanilla? that's so... Vanilla." You smile,

"Excuse you, that's for me. This, is for you." He says, taking out an equally sized tub of cookies and cream.

"Bro that vanilla has nuts in it, you like your ice cream with nuts? Ew."

"Oh nevermind, guess this is going back in the freezer," He takes the tub of cookies and cream ice cream and tries to put it back in his freezer.

"Wait, hold on, your honor I'm innocent!"

He chuckles, you smile.

"Shut up, dork, take the ice cream."

"Speak for yourse— Oh, oops, nevermind I forgot you had full control of my ice cream privileges."

"Mhm, yeah, that's what I thought."

He hands you a spoon and you notice a little red button at the bottom of it.

"What's this for?"

"For heating up the spoon so that we wouldn't have to wait like, half an hour to eat the icecream."

"God, that's such a good idea, you're a genius."

"Yeah, I know right?"

The two of you laugh as you both open your tubs of ice cream. Well, it was more of an attempt in your part. You eventually got Donnie to open it for you.

"Oh wait, my project... Whatever, it's the weekend, I'll do it tomorrow."

"And that's why you end up pulling all-nighters and get all grumpy on us when we talk to you on schooldays."

"Shh... SShhhut up. Eat your ice cream."

He chuckles.

It's quiet.

"Soo... How're things with April?"

And that is definitely not the way to start a conversation.

"Eh.. You know. The same it always is."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And back to quiet. It's nice, but you wish it wasn't so awkward.

"..I should've given you soup instead. Giving you ice cream was a bad choice on my part." He stand up to take the ice cream (which was already a quarter finished, by the way) from you.

"Aww, come on Don. I can have the— ha..." You sneeze, "..have the soup later. After ice cream."

He snorts, "Come on," he gently puts the back of his hand on your throat, then your forehead.

"Oh damn, I did that as a joke, but you're seriously burning up. Yeah, no, I'm getting you soup."

You let out a whine of defeat as the tub of ice cream gets taken away from you, and hey, was it this cold before?

"I'll get you a blanket too. Why'd you even come here anyway?" He smiles a little, "And don't say that you needed help with your schoolwork. We already covered that like, a week ago? Get some rest, man." Before he leaves, he puts the experiment-jelly-thingamabob in the freezer.

"'Kay."

Why were you here?

Easy, you liked hanging out with him.

Why?

Because.

..Because?

Because he's fun to be around?

Might need to think deeper than that.

Who are you, my therapist?

You're literally talking to yourself.

Whatever. Because... I don't know, he makes me.. happy? that sounds weird.

Yeah. Keep going anyway.

This self analysis thing is getting weird.

And he's back. You smile.

"I got some hot chocolate too. Had to be quiet though." He covers the both of you with the blanket, and hands you the soup.

"Damn, you're cold too?"

"Yeah duh, turtles are cold-blooded."

"So you've said."

He leans back,

"You gonna finish your little experiment here?"

"Maybe. I'm tired."

"What time is it?"

"Uhh.." He checks his t-phone, "1:10 AM."

"Whatt... You're telling me I've been here for six hours?" It's fine, your parents were out of town. You liked it better here anyway.

"Also, I really don't think you should get that close to me dude. I'm, in your words, 'seriously burning up'."

"Ughh.. but you're warm. And I don't wanna get up." He dramatically lays his head on your shoulder, fake-snuggling up to you.

He gets a laugh out of you, he grins.

"I'm tired."

"Yeah, me too." Donnie yawns, pressing a button on his remote. Suddenly, the lights started to dim.

You let out a breathless chuckle, "When'd you install that?"

"A couple weeks ago. You said you didn't like how bright the lights were. So I made this remote to dim the lights, then I got distracted and made more options, then turned it into a slider... then just... booshhh... yeah."

"You remembered that?"

"Of course."

That's actually pretty sweet.

You smile at him. "Yeah?"

"Mhm. I'm gunna.... sleep. G'night."

"G'night."

And like that, he was out like a light. You just realized how close he was to you.

He's next to you, head basically on the crook of your neck. Both of you sharing the same thick blanket, with the empty bowl of soup that you didn't realize you had finished, and the half empty cup of hot chocolate.

And now, you start thinking to yourself,

Is there more to this?

No, you're just friends. Right?

But that tiny voice in your head that's getting increasingly bigger as the minute passes, is asking you:

Do friends do this for eachother?

Yes.

Are you sure?

What else could it be? What else could we be?

Do friends go out of their way to show up to your school in a disguise while it was pouring out to take you home?

He's just like that. He's nice, he's caring.

Do friends install fancy advanced remote-controlled lights just for you because you mentioned once how the lights were overwhelming?

..He's my friend. I'd do the same for him. Well, If I had the smarts.

But the difference is that you know how you feel.

Well.. Yeah.

Do friends leave lingering touches?

...

..Didn't he say he had a heater in here?

[diorctrl]

FAVOURITE SECRET nishimura riki x reader

𓂂 ˳ older sister’s best friend riki, fluff warnings: intentional lower case, swearing , kissing

opening your eyes, you sit up when you hear the sound of the front door of your home opening , rubbing your eyes you look at the hallway that leads to the living room that you’re currently in.

you hear the familiar voice of your older sister and lay back down on your couch , feeling less alarmed but the deep voice that follows after has you flinching.

you stay still in your position as you hear footsteps coming through the hallway, you had a feeling on who that voice was and the thought made your stomach feel all queasy.

“bro, what are you doing?” the sound of your older sister minji’s voice has you sitting up again, you look at her trying your best to not look at the extremely tall figure beside her.

“what are you doing ?” you ask back in that annoying little sister tone, “school isn’t done yet.”

the girl in her uniform rolls her eyes at you, “exactly school isn’t done, so I should be asking you that, what the heck are you doing home ?”

“mom let me stay home.” you say in a pretentious manner, it was true, you begged your mom to let you stay home because you weren’t “feeling well” and was under the weather, in reality you just put your blow dryer on your forehead for 10 minutes.

minji raised a brow at you like she caught you in a lie, “mom would never make me go to school if you’re staying home.”

you smile mockingly at her, “well maybe if you didn’t leave early this morning, mom would’ve let you stay home too.” a low laugh has you going completely still.

your eyes betrayed you and you take a quick glance at the boy beside your sister, in the quick second you take notice of the way his hair falls over his eyes, the blonde highlights making the brown pop.

you feel your stomach turn, “so why are you home ?” you asked your sister, trying your best not to take a glance at him again.

mini sat down the chair in front of you and let out a sigh,"I left early and brought riki with me." she points at the standing boy who’s eye’s has been on you this entire time.

“why’d you leave early.” you ask as you shift feeling nervous with boys eye’s on you.

minji scrunches up her face, “none your business.”

“I was just asking jeez.” you roll your eyes getting up from the space that you were sitting on, “I’m going to my room.” you begin walking to the stairs but the loud obnoxious clearing of your sister’s throat stops you.

“what ?”

“don’t you have something to say ?”

you let out a deep sigh, “hello riki.” you say hanging your head low, not daring to look at the tall boy.

“hey yn” he says and you can just hear the smirk in his voice.

you turn around quickly and make your way up the stairs, once you reach you room you close the door and slid down to your carpeted floor.

it’s fine you’re just not gonna go downstairs for the rest of the day until mom and dad comes home.

you get up from the floor and head to the stash of cd’s that you have beside your desk, you pick one and place in into the cd player on your wall. you grab your laptop and some school work.

maybe distracting yourself with school work will make you forget he’s there.

and it did.

well, for a little, you spent hours going through missing assignments and assignments that need to be done for this while drowning yourself in music.

it was the voice of your sister that took you out of your zone, “bye riki, i’ll see you tomorrow.” and then you heard the front door close.

the feeling of relief just came rushing into you, your body automatically relaxes and smile comes to your face finally.

you spend a couple more minutes trying to finish up one last assignment and then you’ll head downstairs, but a knock on your window stops you.

you got up from your bed and quietly walked over to your window and opened your curtains, your eyes go wide in shock when you see the person that you were just happy about leaving.

you admire his features for a second, his nose, the shape of his lips and the way his hair falls into his face.

“are you gonna help me in or ?”

you snap out of your daze and reluctantly open your window.

you grab one of his hands to help him climb through.

once he’s in, he lets out a big sigh and puts his hands on his hip while leaning down slightly.

you walk closer to him and roughly dragged him to your bed, you roughly throw him onto it.

“what are you doing here ?” this can’t be happening, your sister is literally down stairs.

he smiles at your slight anger mixed with nervousness, your so cute.

“what ? i can’t see my girlfriend ?” he asks a smug facial expression finds its way to his face.

you feel heat climbing up your neck at him calling you his “girlfriend”, yes you are his girlfriend, but the thought about it always makes your stomach turn, not because you don’t like him, you love him, it’s more of the fact that you guys shouldn’t even be together.

you point to your door, “my sister is downstairs.”

he rolls his eyes and grabs your hands, pulling you to stand between his legs, “I thought you said she doesn’t barge into your room ?”

you down at his bigger hand holding yours, “she doesn’t…-”

“- so what are you so worked up about, i haven’t hung out with you at all this week and you weren’t at school, and you basically ran upstairs when I got here.”

he pulls you closer, “so just relax and spend some time with me.”

you look at you door than at him, before letting out a sigh and moving away from between his legs and laying down on your bed on your back. “I guess you’re right.”

you feel a weight on your chest and you look down to see riki getting himself comfortable.

you put your hand in his hair and he lets out a pleasant hum, “I missed you.” he said quietly.

“I missed you too.”

he moves his head up and places a kiss you your jaw, then your cheek, he sits up placing a quick peck on your lips, then pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

you wrap your hands around his neck pulling his closer and he let’s put a pleased hum.

your door opens, “yn I wanna get snacks wanna com-?.”

you and riki separated form each other quickly, you hitting your head on your head board and him falling off your bed with a big thud.

“ow !” you both say as minji looks at the two of you shock.

“what the fuck ?”

[allfryam]

teachers pet

Mason sighed as he moved his arm to cover his growing boner. He was sitting in history class, learning about some kind of ancient civilization or something. The only thing he was focused on though was his teacher Mr. Hart. He was fresh out of college and looked to be around 24 years old. He had medium length brown hair that he slicked back over his head. He had piercing brown eyes that almost matched the color of his hair perfectly. His only facial hair was a thick mustache that kept him from looking 18. His young features and strong arms made him look like a major frat bro. The only thing that kept him from being one was his growing midsection. When school started in August, Mr. Hart had a flat stomach. But as the months progressed and his life got more sedentary, Mason began to notice his shirts getting tighter around his gut. You could hardly even see it unless he was sitting, and it would begin to roll over his belt, or if he reached up to grab something, and his shirt would be pulled tight, giving mason a perfect outline.

Mason constantly daydreamed of feeding Mr. Hart until the buttons on his shirt pop off. But he could never do something like that. There’s no way Mr. Hart would even let him. So he just daydreamed.

as thanksgiving break came to a close, and Mason began to head back to school, he couldn’t help but think of all the food Mr. Hart probably ate, shoveling plate after plate of thanksgiving feast down his throat. He sat down at his desk and hid another boner under his sweatshirt as he continued thinking about it. His boner poked up even more when Mr. Hart walked in though. Mason was right. Mr. Hart had definitely stuffed himself silly over break. His shirt that used to only give an outline of his stomach when he reached for something now hugged his gut in all the right ways. It looked two sizes too small with his meaty arms filling out the sleeves, his juicy pecs filling out the chest, and now his expanding gut was filling out the rest.

Mr. Hart began teaching and Mason didn’t listen to a word. All he could focus on was the perfect belly standing at the front of the classroom. He imagined himself slowly unbuttoning Mr. Hart’s tight shirt and rubbing the perfect gut underneath. “Mason…” he moaned. “Mason!” Mr. Hart yelled. “Are you paying attention?” Masons face grew red. “Uhhh yeah. Sorry.” Mason said shyly.

later that night, Mason knew he needed to act on this daydream or he would be too horny to function. He thought of a few options.

PLEASE VOTE! I’ve never done a story like this and I would really like to do one so please participate! (They are all good endings I promise! Some will just be more drawn out than others!)

[delfiore]

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (3/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: without ona, you find other ways to fill the hole in your heart, as the consequences of your own actions come back to haunt you.

word count: 7.0k

a/n: holy shit is this one long. some more cameos for the plot who are all good bros to our dumbasses in love 👍

PART I, PART II, PART IV, PART V

2018, 5 years ago.

You always hated it when your hands shake after adrenaline rushes. It felt debilitating, like you weren’t able to make rational decisions because all you could think about was trying to hide your trembling hands.

When your coach called you into his office, you were still cradling your right hand, the other pressing an ice pack to the bruise starting to form on your right knuckles. The way he pointed with his head for you to follow him—doing so without a word—reaffirmed that you were definitely in trouble.

It was a warm day in May, and yet you had two training sessions to complete. You were drenched in sweat afterwards, your body warm and buzzing like a furnace. Definitely not a good day to be pissed off.

Coach Dennis sat in his chair behind his desk, his hands folded in front of him. His lips were curling and jutting out like they always did whenever he was concentrating or trying to look angry. It made him look like a fish.

A silence followed, and then he spoke. “Are you aware of what you did?”

You clenched your jaw to stop yourself from blurting out something sarcastic. “I punched a teammate, Coach.”

“You’re aware that that could get you released, don’t you, Y/N?” He asked. “NYCFC has zero tolerance for violence within the first team, much less the youth academy.”

You lowered your head. Your hands were shaking much less now.

“May I ask why you did it?” Coach pressed further when he didn’t receive an answer.

So you told him. There was a group of girls that had been picking on you for years now. You were never the biggest or strongest, so you used your techniques to weave the ball through defenders, to make you stand out, and it pissed them off.

“So you punched one of them.”

“They were cornering me.” You said simply, looking up at him for the first time since the meeting started.

The man sighed and covered his nose and mouth with his palms. You might have reduced his lifespan by a decade right then.

“Y/N, I know you. I know you will stand up for yourself, and I expect nothing less from you, but this kind of behavior will not and cannot fly here. That’s why I’m telling you this, because I know you’ll be special one day.”

“Those girls are bullies, Coach. They don’t deserve to be here. You should be punishing them!”

“They will get their punishment in due time, but you still punched a teammate,” he said firmly. “You did what you thought was right, but violence is never the answer. You can’t punch your way out of everything.”

“Are you kicking me out?” You asked, trying to remain stoic, yet you were fiddling with your fingers.

“No. I’m blocking your Dallas offer.”

FC Dallas had been one of the top scouts that have had their eyes on you, and you had been working extra hard to impress them. This was your chance to break into their first team, and it was gone.

“You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can.” He pressed.

“Coach, please—”

“Thank you, Y/N.” He cut you off. “You may leave.”

Leaving Dennis’ office, and walking down the hallway, your eyes caught Sara—the girl you punched—sitting in the infirmary, her face tear-stained, red, and blotchy. She had always looked at you with disdain, but now there was a fear in her gaze as she caught yours from far away. When she did, you got a better look at the damage you’d done to her face. You suddenly felt that shame you should have felt back in the office.

“Yo, Y/N,” you heard someone call when you were outside. “I heard about what happened.”

“You’re gonna lecture me, Gio? ‘Cause Dennis already did.”

“No, man. I was gonna say how badass that was,” he grinned.

A slow grin spread on your face. You shook your head, as Gio put his arm around your shoulder and you walked to the cafeteria.

You met Giovanni Reyna a few years ago when you first joined the academy. In a training session where both the boys and girls participated, you were paired with him for finishing drills. With a hard tackle, he’d almost put you in the hospital. Ever since then, you had been stuck to the hip. He was the first friend you made and the longest friend you’d ever had.

You’d stay another year at NYCFC, honing your skills, and avoiding another run-in with your bullies until the transfer window was near. You were still waiting for FC Dallas to call back, as you had for a year now. It was the only place you wanted, and while you knew it was risky to do so, it was your gateway to Europe through their partnership with Bayern Munich.

“Sara is going to the Red Stars, did you hear?”

“Dylan’s going to Orlando Pride.”

“I heard Hope and Mary-Anne are going to Roma and Lyon!”

You had tried to block out the gossip in the cafeteria, but it made you doubt yourself. What did they have that you didn’t? Yes, you weren’t the tallest or strongest, but neither were Messi, Xavi, or Aguëro. But maybe that was just it; you were not Messi, Xavi, or Aguëro, and you would never be.

Gio was leaving too, there had never been any doubt about that; his dad was a U.S. legend, and it was only natural that he’d give the best to his son. Besides, Gio might have been the next best thing after Christian Pulisic skyrocketed to fame within the past few years. The boy’s move to Borussia Dortmund was almost imminent, and people had been whispering about it for weeks, but you were the one he told first.

“When do you leave?” You asked, picking at the food on your tray. Gio and you were sitting outside having lunch.

“Beginning of June,” he said.

“I’m happy for you,” you muttered, voice cracking quietly, but a small smile remained on your face.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t be sorry. This is a good thing,” you smiled, nodding as you grabbed his hand over the table. “I’ll just miss you a ton.”

“Hey,” Gio searched for your eyes. “I have no doubt that you’ll be scouted soon. I know it. I know you have what it takes to be at the top, whether it’s in Europe, or here.”

Your best friend left less than a month later. You had wrapped your arms around him so tightly and hid your face in his neck, afraid you might bawl like a baby the last time you saw him on the training ground. But you didn’t cry then.

You did cry, though, when Coach Dennis called you into his office again a week later. This time, instead of expressing his disappointment in you, he hugged you tight, congratulated you, and let you read the email that Portland Thorns FC sent to request a transfer for you to their first team.

2023, present.

“You ever thought about what you’d be doing if you weren’t playing football?”

You had just drifted off a bit when the voice next to you spoke. Furrowing your eyebrows, you wondered how she wasn’t absolutely battered.

“Don’t know. Never had a plan B. Didn’t want to.”

“Right. But I feel like, I go to training, I kick the ball, people come and watch me, and then when I go home after, I don’t know who I am. It’s like . . . I’m nothing without the footballer.”

You didn’t expect your hookup to be opening up to you like this. You’d only just met her a few hours ago at a club. You had played against her a few times in the league but had never spoken to her face-to-face. Though not the best on the dance floor, she made an excellent dance partner in bed.

“Well, having a personality is overrated nowadays anyway.” You replied, closing your eyes again. “Nobody cares who you are until you fuck up on the pitch, so just don’t fuck up on the pitch.”

“Easy for you to say,” she huffed. “You have your starter place at City guaranteed.”

You ignored her and turned to the other side. A few minutes later, you heard the sheets shuffling, then the sound of a zipper. “This was fun,” she whispered before you heard your bedroom door opening and closing.

No barks, it meant Bratwurst was asleep, luckily for your ears. Most people you had been bringing home he had been barking at. You wanted to think it was him being protective over you, but he would bark at your teammates too when they would come over, except for one person.

Ever since you came back from the World Cup much earlier than you had anticipated, you liked to find company at clubs and parties. In your time of need, you’d found that you preferred sporadic ones, fewer complications, and headaches.

You were also invited to events; award shows, the British Grand Prix, and a few fashion shows. Those you never really bothered with, but they were chances for your stylist to go crazy with the outfits (which you never complained).

The only good thing to come out of those, however, was seeing Gio again at Paris Fashion Week. The moment you saw him, you gladly accepted it when he brought you into a tight hug, feeling like that 13-year-old again when you first met. You kept in touch over the years, but your schedules were always too different to ever meet up. But it was as if no time had passed, and the only thing that kept you both from talking till morning was that Gio needed rest for his rehabilitation training the next day.

“I’m going on a trip to Ibiza soon with a few friends. You should come,” he said.

“I don’t know, G. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t. I want you to come. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Just because you have a girlfriend now doesn't mean you’re allowed to set me up,” you smirked and shoved him.

“I’ve seen the stuff that came out about you, Y/N,” he sighed. “Is it true?”

“I’m not doing anything illegal if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not what I meant. About you being seen at clubs day in and day out. What is this really about, Y/N?”

You know Gio wanted the best for you, even though sometimes he was too stubborn to admit it. You were too, but you loved him to bits. Maybe that’s why you two fit together so well.

“I let someone close to my heart, and it fucked me over.”

Gio nodded softly. “Well then. Just consider it a vacation. She’ll still be there though.”

“And you won’t make me go out with her?”

“As if I can make you do anything.”

Unless you were legally prohibited or physically unable to, you would never turn down a proper party. So there you were, on a yacht in Ibiza with your best friend and several other people in his entourage. Gio, that little shit, though having promised not to set you up, was elbowing you at a woman the moment she set foot on the yacht. Anyone with eyes would say that she was beautiful; curly hair, plump lips, and soulful eyes you could get lost in.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. It didn’t hurt to try.

You went over to the bar where she stood and ordered a drink. Glancing behind your shoulder, you noticed Gio sending you a big thumbs-up.

“So, you are the one Gio keeps raving on about,” said the woman next to you. Her eyes were really pretty.

“I guess so. That’s me,” you let out a laugh, albeit shakily. “Am I everything you dreamed of and more?”

It was her turn to laugh. “He definitely mentioned your confidence, yes.”

“Well, then I’ll definitely keep you around for sure. But just so you know, I do other things besides kick a football around and look pretty doing it.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself,” you smirked. “I’m Y/N,” you extended a hand.

“Leena,” she took your hand in a firm handshake and raised her drink to you.

You took a sip, and watched her behind the glass, only to notice that she was looking back at you as well. “So, how did you know Gio?”

“I worked with him on a couple of photoshoots. I’m a photographer,” leaning against the bar with her drink, she smiled and pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “He was really nervous, said he didn’t like getting his picture taken. Luckily, I used to work with kids and animals back home in Finland, so making a full-grown man laugh for his headshots wasn’t too hard.”

“You’re from Finland?”

“Mmhm. I go back and forth between London and Manchester now, though.”

“Interesting,” you nodded inconspicuously. “I play in Manchester. Nice city.”

Before you knew it, the sun had started to go down, and it was time to drive the yacht back to port. As you all made your way to the exit to disembark, you waited for Leena before offering your hand to help her down the ramp.

Your group was to head into town, and have some dinner before going to a local music festival to finish the night off. It was dark by the time you arrived at the venue, and you wasted no time in immersing yourself in the music. Gio and the others were long forgotten, and you found yourself enjoying your time with Leena much more than you had anticipated.

You told her about your job, and she asked about the World Cup. As much as you hated to talk about it, having declined several interviews and podcast appearances in which mentions of the tournament were inevitable, you told her everything she wanted to know.

She was so attentive and listened, even though you knew she didn’t follow the sport, and for that you were thankful. It has been a while since you talked to someone about how you felt and have them listen so wholeheartedly.

“Do you ever miss home?” You asked once the both of you had taken a break from dancing.

“Sometimes, but right now my wanderlust is bigger than my homesickness. I want to see everything the world has to offer.”

You swirled your martini on the standing table. “I’ve been away from home for so long, I don’t really know where home is anymore.”

“Well, I think home is where you make it.” She lay a hand on your bare arm, caressing it slowly. “If you’ve already made a home at this age, what else is there to do?”

Your eyes trailed along her arm up to her face. Your heart slowed, and the music seemed to have faded in the background. Despite the chaos of the festival, several drunk people dancing next to you, and your friends have already disappeared somewhere, you suddenly had an overwhelming urge to kiss Leena.

But it wasn’t her that you wanted to kiss, not really. You wanted to kiss her because it reminded you of familiar feelings, to have someone in your corner that you didn’t have to pretend to. But of course that was all based on a lie.

As she reached into your martini to pick up the olive pick and held it out for you, you bit down gently on the fruit and let her pull the pick away. You smiled bashfully.

“I’ll go get us some more drinks,” you cleared your throat. “Do you want some fries too?”

You needed to get out of there before you did something you regret and ruin a good thing, again.

The bartender was off once you’d given him your order. Whilst waiting for the drinks, you looked around for familiar faces and spotted Gio and a couple of his friends “dancing” to the music in one corner, clearly quite inebriated.

“Y/N.”

You turned around and wished that you didn’t. It was Ona, looking at you like you were some sort of alien.

“Ona,” you breathed.

“Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with friends.” Now would be a good time for those drinks, bartender.

She nodded. “How are you?”

“Fine,” you said too quickly. “Congratulations by the way, on winning.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“You guys deserved it. No matter who’s trying to take it away from you, you did, and you should celebrate it,” you meant it and tried to force a smile that adequately expressed your sentiments. Needless to say, it would be easier to be saying this to one of her teammates, anyone but her.

You remembered the night she broke your heart, the night when you left your heart by the sidewalk as you trekked all the way home on foot.

That was three months ago, and with all the distractions you’ve indulged yourself in, somehow it still ached.

The bartender handed you your drinks just then, and you were off.

“Y/N, wait.” You closed your eyes. “I’m sorry . . . for what I said, how I said it.”

“No, I think you made your point very clear, Ona. Have a good rest of your trip.”

“Y/N, I did feel something too! I did!”

Ona felt like biting her tongue at the look you gave her when you turned around, the two glasses of Negronis dangling in your fingers by your side. She had almost regretted it when your lips trembled, and your chest rose and fell as if an implosion was imminent.

You took a large step towards her and exhaled. “You don’t get to do that. Not after I’ve tried to do everything to forget you. You can’t do that.”

Ona opened her mouth to say something, but she knew anything she said would only add to your fury.

“I hope you’re happy by the way.” You said mockingly. “Seeing that you got what you wanted. Winning the World Cup, moving back to Barcelona. Hope you’re happy. Bye, Ona.”

She watched unmovingly as you walked away from her, back to a table where a woman was waiting, and pulled her towards the crowd to dance. She found herself returning to her group, not being able to get the image of you swaying behind the woman with your arm around her neck out of her mind.

What kind of sick joke was the universe playing to make her see you right when she was supposed to be enjoying her days off? Maybe it was her punishment, having broken your heart then practically fleeing the country immediately after.

“Where’s the drink, Ona? You were supposed to get us some,” Lucy questioned her when she came back.

“Oh, sorry. I thought I saw someone.”

“Oi, is that Y/N? Y/N!”

“No, please don’t.” Ona grabbed Lucy’s arm, and quickly pulled it down.

Realizing Lucy didn’t know about it, she knew she was going to have to tell her one way or another. Surprisingly, Lucy didn’t laugh or tease her about it after hearing the entire story. They were back at their hotel, with another bottle of wine passed between them, and Ona told her new teammate everything.

“You were under our noses the whole time, and we didn’t even realize,” Lucy snickered with a shake of her head.

“Yeah,” the night had taken a toll on her, and Ona started to feel the effect of the alcohol as she lay staring at the ceiling. “Have I made a huge mistake? Letting myself be involved in all this.”

“Obviously, but the heart wants what it wants. Trust me,” the brunette took another sip from the bottle. “It is a hard situation, but she needs space, as much as you can give her so she can heal.”

“Sounds like you’ve been through it before,” Ona smirked and poked her with her elbows.

The older woman only laughed. “Something like that.”

As hard as it was to accept the truth, Ona had to move on. She didn’t have a lot of time to mope around, however, before she knew it, the season had already begun. Barcelona had always been a place to return to, and the team needed someone who had Barcelona in her DNA to complete the defense.

It was all going swimmingly, too much so even. The season started out slow, but they grabbed the wins when they needed them. Then it was time for the Champions League draw. Barcelona had been drawn into a group with RSC Anderlecht, AS Roma, and Manchester City.

Just her luck. She’d have to see you twice before the year ended. Barcelona would be going to Manchester first.

With her chance encounter with you in Ibiza still fresh on her mind, she joined the queue for warm-up, looking up every once in a while in case she spotted you. When she did, you were standing by the sideline talking animatedly to your other former teammate Keira. She tore her eyes away before you could notice her, and swallowed that uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Longing for your American girl?” Mapi said with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Ona mumbled, jogging away to do stretches. “I knew Lucy would blab.”

“So Lucy knows? I was just making an educated guess from the way you keep making those sad puppy eyes at her.”

“At who?” Ingrid appeared from behind.

“Y/L/N,” Mapi raised her eyebrows at her girlfriend with a smirk, and Ingrid gasped excitedly.

“Oh my god, Y/N Y/L/N?! You guys would be so cute together!”

“Guys, come on. We have a match to play,” Ona groaned and begrudgingly jogged away. Just before she started her sprints though, she snuck one last glance at you, when you briefly looked back. As if having been burnt just by a look, you quickly said goodbye to Keira and went back to your half to continue warming up.

“Do you think they were already together?” Ingrid whispered at Mapi.

Mapi sighed, “Definitely.”

Ona started that match on the left, as Lucy also started and occupied her usual right side. You were playing on the right this time to allow Lauren Hemp to be on the left wing. It meant there would be none of her usual duels with you.

Ever since Lucy’s slip-up in the World Cup final, Ona knew she had been more cautious in defense and stayed back most of the time. It gave her the opportunity to set up passes deeper whilst also keeping you at bay, the tactic Ona herself used at United and one she knew you absolutely despised.

Sure enough, you stupidly went up against only one of the best fullbacks in the world. Your dribbling and speed were to your advantage, and Lucy—with all her experience and knowledge of your play—easily controlled you at the flanks. So you tried inverting inside, and Lucy followed you too, if not Irene did.

Man City was pressing high, giving the offense plenty of opportunities in the box, but Barcelona was better in defense. It was only when a precise lofted ball was sent past the back line, that Lucy was trailing after you. You went down just outside of the box. As everyone was getting ready for the free kick, you were still on the ground. Your ankle had been stomped on by Irene during the struggle.

Ona quickly jogged over and put her hand over your shoulder, “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Don’t put your hands on me,” you seethed, swatting her hand away, just as the physios came over and sprayed your ankle. Just moments later, you were able to stand up, but you never spared her another glance.

As much as it stung, she clenched her jaw to stop the tears and got ready for the free kick.

Barcelona ended up winning 2-0, a stellar start to their UWCL campaign. While Ona went to shake hands with several players from the opposition, she looked for you, seeing you walk towards the stands. You took pictures and signed for some people, even gave a little kid your shirt, but she saw the way you lit up when talking to someone in the crowd. Upon closer look, it was the woman you were with in Ibiza.

Your smile was blinding as Leena was led down the pitch towards you. “Hi,” you breathed. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Of course I did. You gave me tickets, remember?” She brought you in for a hug. “I’m sorry you lost, but it was very entertaining. I took lots of pictures.”

“Of me, I hope?” You smirked.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Keep dreaming, Y/L/N.”

Smiling slightly, you brought her in for a side hug. “Thank you for coming,” you kissed Leena’s cheek. “Means a lot.”

Ona was watching the entire interaction, fuming on the inside. Lucy and Mapi knew to steer clear of her path once they returned to the dressing room by the glower on her usually affable face.

SportsPro Media: Y/N Y/L/N Seen ‘Smiling’ After Man City Lost to Barcelona in Women’s Champions League Group Stage “Fans have taken to social media to criticize the winger, 21, after she was seen smiling and conversing with fans at the stands after a 2-0 loss to reigning champions Barcelona. The criticism came after several of Y/L/N’s teammates on the USWNT were also condemned for their overt optimism after barely making it out of their group in the Women’s World Cup this summer. Among the critics was former USWNT international Carli Lloyd. Y/L/N was also seen getting more than friendly with her rumored girlfriend, whom the winger was spotted on holiday with in Ibiza alongside U.S. men’s team’s Gio Reyna after a shockingly early World Cup exit. […]”

When the second round of the group stage came around, you were much better prepared. Though you were playing away in Barcelona, Man City were preparing to win. You were definitely training to do so, so when the starting XI lineup was posted on the door in the dressing room, you were stunned when your name wasn’t on the list. You had been benched before—it was all part of the game—but only during less important games or for your own recovery, but never during an important game like this.

“Gareth, can I speak to you, please?” You said, gritting your teeth when the gaffer opened the door in his office.

“Of course,” he gestured for you to follow inside. “Take a seat.”

You remained standing. “Why am I not starting for the Barcelona game?”

“I’m doing what I think will be best for the team, Y/N.”

“By benching me? You need me!”

“Easy, Y/L/N. No one is above the club, and I don’t appreciate your tone,” Gareth’s tone was despicably calm, yet no less menacing.

You took a deep breath to compose yourself. “I want to know why, in an important game such as this one.”

“It seems . . . that you might have a personal reason as to why you want to start this game, but I have to rotate the squad and—”

“Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean? What personal reason?”

Gareth sighed. “I’ve been informed that you’ve had a personal relationship with one of Barcelona’s players that didn’t end too well.”

“So? What does that have to do with anything?” You all but yelled.

“I’m making a decision that I deem best for the club, and you and every other player will listen because I am in charge!” Gareth had never yelled, not like this. It made you flinch. “I will not have my players’ private life bleed into the performance of the team. Now, you can either support my decision or I will have you removed from the squad traveling to Barcelona, and replace you with someone else who will put the team above their own interest.”

Your mouth is sewn shut, just by the sheer shock at what the manager had just said. You stormed out of his office without another word, slamming the door open to mask what you were truly feeling inside. It wasn’t fury—you were beyond that—it has turned into fear of being replaced; fear of being left behind.

Man City drew that match, and it was just enough to send the team to the quarterfinals, having done it entirely without you. Gareth had made up a bullshit excuse to the press to make you stay home.

Your agent, Toni, was much more furious for you, saying what he did breach the contract you signed and that you should be taking action. In the five years they have been your agent, you have never had to endure that much legal talk over a club issue before. You’d be amused at their passionate rambling if you weren’t already nursing a headache.

“I think you should leave, Y/N,” they finally said after getting off the phone.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But where would I even go? I don’t have any offers yet.”

“You will, once the news comes out that you’re looking to leave the club. You only have one year left on your contract anyway, plenty would seek to employ you.”

You had been through this before. The waiting after letting it be known that you wanted to leave was the worst, but you weren’t just a nobody anymore. You were Y/N Y/L/N, and you would have it your way one way or another.

“Alright, then.” You nodded firmly. “Let’s have a talk with Gareth. I’m not gonna scurry out of this club like a rat.”

Goal.com: Y/N Y/L/N Looking for Man City Exit After Tension With Boss Gareth Taylor “Sources within Man City are saying the American winger could be on her way out of Manchester this summer. The player has reportedly ‘fallen out of favor’ with City gaffer Gareth Taylor after ‘expressing her vexation over lack of playing time’. The 22-year-old was left out of the squad traveling to Barcelona for the 4th group stage match of the Women’s Champions League altogether and has since featured in significantly fewer matches for the Citizens. Several European clubs are reportedly keen to sign Y/L/N, but she could also be making a return to the NWSL for what could be a record signing in the women’s game yet. […]

Though you were scared, it was much easier to let go of a burden that you have been carrying around for so long.

Which was why you had agreed to come to a concert with Leena when she had asked you. You would let yourself have fun and connect with someone without being scared anymore because what Ona did to you had nothing with who you were, and you sure as hell weren’t going to pay the price for it.

Needless to say, you and Leena had a great time. You were been walking back to your car in the parking lot when you saw a flash. You sighed and walked Leena towards the passenger side.

“Get in the car. Don’t come out, okay?” You told her with a smile, which was quickly wiped off once you saw the photographers approaching.

“Y/N, are you leaving City? Where do you think you’re going next?”

“Did you have a fight with Gareth?”

“Y/N, are you going to Barcelona?”

You entered the car with an exasperated sigh. Your breathing became heavy as you attempted to start the car, and your hand started to tremble.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Leena spoke softly. “Don’t let them get to you.”

She placed a hand over yours and squeezed it softly. Finding her eyes, you nodded gratefully, and drove away, trying your very best not to run those imbeciles over.

You went back to her apartment where you both ordered some takeout. Over a movie, you talked about anything and everything.

It was like that with Leena. Somehow, she has made you feel okay with pouring your entire heart out in front of her, her caring eyes and encouraging silence taking away your doubts about looking like an emotional fool in front of her.

But the moment you saw her eyes dart back and forth between yours, then down to your lips and leaned in, you froze. You wanted this, only because it would be good for you, but you couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry, Leena. I-I—” Jumping out of the couch, you stuttered like a broken record. Of course, she would have read it like that, you couldn’t blame her. You didn’t quite know what you wanted, but all you could think about was how different it was to kiss Leena than it was to kiss Ona.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t try to stop you. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all. She might as well have been just as shell-shocked as you were by your reaction. You bolted out of there as quickly as you can, like a coward.

Unsurprisingly, Leena hasn’t tried to contact you. You couldn’t blame her, you’d be pissed at yourself too. It seemed everyone was pissed at you these days.

Chloe approached you once in the weight room to ask if you were leaving. You could only offer her an apology, but she brought you in for a hug. You would miss her the most.

Meanwhile, Toni was working tirelessly on your next move, and all you could do was train and be the best footballer you could be while you waited. Even if Gareth didn’t deserve your effort, your teammates did, and you owed it to them to give it your all until the day you left the training ground for the last time.

There was only one destination you had in mind, but going there would mean having to confront your serial one-night stand that you were possibly in love with, who also didn’t share your feelings.

You couldn’t let that deter you from ascending the football hierarchy, though. You couldn’t, and you won’t. You would do it one way or another because it was where you deserved to be. You would show Gareth that he was wrong about you.

“I can’t believe you’re going to Lyon! That’s crazy, Y/N!” Gio said over the phone. He was the first person you told and was ecstatic when you did.

“They still haven’t sent anything official yet, but it’s looking like it, yeah.”

“Well, what happened to the Barcelona deal?”

“My agent was flipping out when I said no, but then this deal came two days later and now they’re flipping out again but for a good reason.”

“That’s awesome, dude! I’m happy for you!”

“I don’t know, I just—I feel like I’m not there yet or something. Lyon wants me, but they’re freakin’ Lyon!”

“Hey, I know all about imposter syndrome, alright? But you can’t let that keep you from playing at one of the best clubs in the world.”

“Don’t let Dortmund hear you say that,” you smirked.

“Eh, we know where we are. That’s why we sold Erling and Jude,” Gio spoke. “Point is, they want you. They clearly see how good of a player you are. So get your ass over to France and show them that!”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You’re right.”

“Alright, gotta go. But hey, let’s go for a drink next time you’re in town. Hopefully, by then, you’re a Lyon player.”

You ended the call and got up to go take a shower. Just before you went to the bathroom, though, your phone rang again.

Grinning, you picked up again, “Look, if you’re telling me you’re gonna set me up again, I swear to god, Gio.”

But you didn’t hear Gio’s voice or teasing laugh. Instead, there was a shaky sniffle on the other side.

You checked the caller ID, and it was an unknown number. From Barcelona.

“Hello?” You said, unsure.

“Hey, Y/N. I just . . . just needed to hear your voice.”

You sighed because you knew exactly who it was. You had etched the cadence and tone of her voice into your memories during the many nights you’ve spent together.

“It’s Ona, by the way.”

“I know,” you nodded. You didn’t quite know how else to carry on this conversation. “I heard Barcelona’s beautiful this time of year.”

“Yeah, it is,” she said, sniffling again. “You should see the beach at sunset. It’s great. I go and sit there almost every night.”

“Are you drunk, Ona?”

“No, no. Maybe a little bit. Just a little bit though. I had two glasses of wine. Or else I wouldn’t have the courage to be doing this. Just like I didn’t have the courage to tell you that I had feelings for you too. Have, I still do.”

You closed your eyes and shut off the water. Then she said it again, “I have feelings for you, Y/N. I think about you all the time. And I know you might be with someone now, but I just can’t . . .”

She started crying again. “I can’t go on without telling you anymore.”

“This is incredibly selfish, what you’re doing, Ona.” You were close to tears too, hearing how much this hurt her.

“I know. I’m sorry I fucked it all up. I’m sorry for hurting you. If I could take back everything I said, I would. I’m so, so sorry.”

You took a deep breath and sat back down on your bed. “I forgive you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was selfish too,” you said quietly. “You should go to sleep. You have a Champions League final to play tomorrow.”

You ended the call before you or she could say anything else.

“Shit,” you mumbled and threw yourself back onto the bed. This was exactly why you had to say no to Barcelona, even though it was your dream to play for them. Alas, it started to feel like a mistake.

You dialed Toni. “Hey, um, please don’t kill me for asking this, but could you reach back out to Barcelona and tell them I’m very interested?”

“I knew you’d pull some shit like this so I’ve stalled them. They don’t know we’re negotiating with Lyon, and would probably be fine with setting up a call soon. It’d be a headache to handle Lyon, though.”

“That’s why you’re the best agent in the world, right?” You smiled sheepishly.

“We’ll see, Y/N. We’ve got some leverage for now, but it’s not guaranteed that Barça won’t say no.”

“Thank you, Toni!” You hung up the phone.

ESPN: Barcelona Completes Signing of Y/N Y/L/N from Manchester City on World Record Transfer Fee “Manchester City W.F.C. has agreed to sell USWNT winger Y/N Y/L/N to Barcelona on a £485,000 record fee. This transfer surpasses Keira Walsh’s own move to Barcelona from the Sky Blues in 2022 with a fee of around £400,000. The signing of the summer was finally completed after several clubs have been reported to enter the race. Olympique Lyon was also close to acquiring the 22-year-old’s signature, but the deal broke down in late June when the player repeatedly expressed her interest in joining the Catalan giants. A technically gifted forward, Y/L/N can play on either side as a winger, and occasionally as an attacking midfielder for the national team. Her impending arrival at La Blaugrana would provide a boost in attacking power to an already impressive Barcelona side. […]”

“Jesus, you look like someone murdered your mother or something. Liven up, please.” Mapi smacked her Ona on the shoulder.

“I’m just a little nervous to see her again,” the younger girl muttered, fiddling with her fingers.

She could hear voices outside the dressing room getting closer. At the sound of your voice, her ears trained. She remained facing her locker, trying to occupy herself until you came in. She really felt like throwing up.

You greeted Aitana first with a quick hug, Marta too, then Lucy brought you in for a spin and released you for Keira to go in for the hug.

You said hello to Mapi and Ingrid, both of whom hugged you tightly.

Then you were in front of her. She had expected you to not even look at her, after what she had said over the phone. But you smiled a genuine smile, the one you used to give her whenever the world was a little too hard to bear.

Ona remembered everything. From the sheer hatred and resentment to the lust and sleepless nights under the sheets, to the longing and heartache she endured away from you.

“Welcome,” she whispered quietly, afraid you might not reciprocate her greeting.

Instead, you pulled her into you and held her tightly.

a/n: i’ve decided to add some lore for our y/n, lmk if you like it, if you don’t like it, if you think it’s too long and you just wanna get straight to the smooching :)) there’s more to come but now the stakes 😌☝️ are higher now that we have some info on what makes y/n ticks. i’m going back to college this week so updates might come later but yeah pls let me know what you think!!

[m0nsterqzzz]

Pretty and Smart

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x gn!reader

summary: Wanda has a fear of the dentist, but what about when she wants to start dating one?

warnings: mentions of drugs (anesthesia), swearing, injurys (tooth injurys), such a shitty ending cuz i'm terrible at writing endings, needles

a/n: completely inspired by the fact that i got three teeth removed yesterday and flirted with my 20 year older nurse lol. literally everything that Wanda says while waking up is from videos my sister took of me.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Wanda's eyes almost start glowing red as Natasha forces her through the medical room door. This part of the medical wing is filled with all types of necessities for a dentist to perform regular check ups, surjurys, or any other type of appointment that an Avenger would need. 

Tony hired the best dentist he could find and that worries Wanda a bit as usually that means they’re pretty with no brain. That’s not the only thing that worries her though. Her long lasting fear of being put under anesthesia is coming out quite quickly as the time for her appointment to get two teeth pulled from inside her gums approaches. She locked herself in her room a bit ago, but she should have remembered that her best friend is a retired spy.

“Please just help me out here Wanda! I don’t want to be late to my date with Maria!” Natasha complains, practically shoving her friend through the door. “I thought it was bros before hoes Nat?! What happened to that?!” “We graduated from middle school Wanda! That's what happened!”

You’re filling out some paperwork when Natasha finally gets Wanda into the room, and the way you smile at her doesn’t help with the butterflies in her stomach. “This is my friend Wanda. She’s here for her appointment. Bye.” Natasha says before leaving, and Wanda is about to send a ball of red energy her way before the door closes. 

Your eyes widen at her magic and she smiles nervously as it fades. “Sorry.” You chuckle, standing up from the desk and holding a hand out for her to shake. “You’re fine. What’s your name sweetie?” You ask, subtly leading her to sit on the chair. “I’m Wanda. Wanda Maximoff. And your…..you're the dentist Tony hired?” “Well yes. I work at a dentist office in the city and Mr. Stark came in looking for someone. I need the extra work. Sorry….I’m rambling.”

She shakes her head, sitting down in the chair as she smiles at you. “Don’t be sorry. It’s making me feel better.” Her nerves are slowly fading the more you flash your bright smile at her, but their right back when you pick up something from the side tray.

Your smile slightly falters when her fingertips start glowing red, but it stays in order to help comfort her. “You’re alright dear. It's just a pulse oximeter. I’m going to put it on your pointer finger in order to help me keep track of the absorbed oxygen into your red blood cells.” She doesn’t understand what that means, but she begins to slowly relax as you explain every machine you're connecting to her body. A blood pressure cuff, an ankle monitor to track her heart rate, a wrist monitor to do the same, and then you wheel over the IV rod with a type of liquid anesthesia that will go from the rod, through a plastic tube, and into her bloodstream in order to sedate her while you work on her teeth. The moment she sees the needle, her eyes flash red. 

You scoot your chair back a little, a nervous smile overtaking you as you remove the needle from her eyesight. “Okay honey, calm down. It’s just a needle. It’s gonna be a gentle little poke and then a very tiny plastic tube is going to go in your arm which will let the liquid anesthesia flow to your blood and sedate you. That way, it only feels like you're asleep for one second and you won’t feel the pain.” She shakes her head, beginning to sit up until you place a gentle hand on her arm. “Miss Maximoff, would you like me to get one of your friends?” She takes a deep breath, forcing the red to fade from her eyes as she lays back down. “I’m a grown woman. I can handle this.” 

You sigh, placing the needle down on the tray as you look at her. “It’s okay to be scared Wanda. In fact, I have many patients that come in here and get scared. It’s natural and you’re allowed to feel scared. Even superheroes don't have to be strong all the time.” This brings a small smile to her face, and she nods.

“Hold my hand? I’m kind of nervous.” You ask and she holds your hand that won’t be holding the needle. She knows you're nowhere near scared of piercing her with a needle, but she’s glad you didn’t exactly call her out. You call in a nurse that was around in case you couldn't perform one of your duties to put in the IV so that you can continue to hold her hand as the nurse does so.

Before you instruct the nurse to pick up the needle,  you grab a mask that connects to some sort of machine and hold it in front of her face. “This is laughing gas. I’m sorry I forgot about it. It’ll make you less nervous.” This seems to completely relax her, and you place the mask over her nose. She can still talk through her mouth, but you instruct her to close it and take deep breaths through her nose. “It smells like syrup. Maple syrup.” She notes, and you can tell that’s not a bad thing by the way she grins at you. While you wait a few minutes for that to take effect, you talk to her about anything and everything. What you had for breakfast that morning, the weather outside, the way your car broke down on the side of the road on your way here, a book you’ve been reading the past few days, or how cocky Tony is.

“Wow. Pretty and smart.” She mumbles, and you look at her with a confused smile. “Pardon?” “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Eventually, she looks at the needle and nods. “I’m ready.” You smile, nodding for the nurse to put in the IV as you continue to stroke the back of her hand with your thumb.

A few minutes later, you have the IV in her arm with a very minimal amount of tears. “Very good job sweetie. You did great.” You could have swore a blush coats her face, but that must just be the laughing gas.

It's only a few minutes later that her eyes close and her breathing evens out, and you take a moment to admire her before grabbing the first tool from the tray. When you go to tell the nurse she can leave, she's smirking at you. “What? What's wrong?” 

“You think your patient’s cute.” She laughs, and you shake your head quickly. “No. That's unprofessional.” “Okay “sweetie"” She mocks the nickname you just used on the Avenger. “The last time a patient asked to hold your hand, you panicked and forced me to do it.” You glare at her, pointing one hand to the door as you start working on extracting the teeth. “Out Vanessa. I'll call you when I need you.” “Alright Dr. Love.” “That is the stupidest nickname you've ever had for me V. Get out.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

About an hour later, you've finished extracting the teeth and sewed her gums back together. They were all on the left side of her mouth, so she'll be able to eat a lot easier if she just uses the other side.

You clean up as you wait for her to wake up, and you sit back down next to her when she begins stirring. The first thing she does is send you a dopey smile and then hang her head to the side so it's falling off the headrest. “No. Don’t do that sweetie. Don’t wanna hurt your neck.” You reposition her head to gently lay it back down, but she just lets it fall again making you chuckle. “Fine. I’ll be right back.” You leave for a few seconds, coming back with a wheelchair and kneeling at her side. “Okay Wanda. I’m gonna help get you in this wheelchair so when your friend comes she can easily get you back to your room okay?” She nods, but makes no attempt to move as she asks, “Do you have balloons?” You giggle, looking around the room before giving her a sympathetic smile. “No. I’m sorry but we do not have any balloons.” The frown on her face is a little sad and the tears that form make you want to go buy her a balloon from the store.

“How about this….” You grab a glove from the counter, then hold it up to your mouth as you blow as hard as you can into it. It’s not easy and it doesn’t get very big, but the smile on her face is worth it as you tie it up and hand it to her. 

While you're grabbing something from the desk, she drops it on the side of her bed, and tears fill her eyes again as she tries to get up- which is more like her flopping her body to the side. You look at her, rushing to her side and gently pushing her to lay back down with a chuckle. “And where do you think you’re going missy?” She groans, pointing to the floor. A tear falls down her face, but they stop the moment you pick it up and hand it back to her. 

“Alright honey, let's get you into the wheelchair.” You begin helping her sit up and then stand up fully, but she shoves your arms off and gives you a lazy scoff as she mumbles, “I’m a big girl. I can do it myself.” You giggle, watching for a second as she wobbles and then looks back to you. “Why aren’t you helping me?” “You told me not to!” “You’re a mean doctor!” You laugh even harder, placing one of her arms over your shoulders as you help her sit in the chair.

When you go to put her feet in the stirrups, she mumbles something incoherent before tapping your shoulder. “Why are you taking my legs doctor lady?” You snigger. “I’m not stealing them, I'm putting them in the stirrups so they don’t drag on the floor and hurt you honey.” She doesn’t seem to understand you as she groans once again and taps your shoulder again. “I need those! I’m a superhero! I need those to save the world!” You finish putting her feet up correctly and then nod. “You’re right. My bad sweetie.” She huffs and nods like you finally said something correct and then grins at you. “What are you grinning at?” “You’re pretty. Are you single doctor lady?” 

Her words take you by surprise, and you look to the window to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Yes. I am single. Why do you ask honey?” “Because I wanna take you out to dinner obviously!” “Obviously.”

You're cleaning some of the tools when she suddenly says, "I like woman and men. Women are pretty don't you think?" You chuckle. "Yes I think women are pretty."

She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and you're sure it's because she’s fallen back asleep until she speaks with a giggle, “Look!”

You look away from the file you were reading to look at her, and you watch with wide eyes as she sends a ball of red magic crashing through the window. “Wanda!” Her eyes also widen, and tears fill her eyes as she pouts. “I…..I’m sorry sweetie. I didn’t mean to yell okay? But that’s dangerous. Don’t do it again.” The smile is immediately back and she forms another red blast which you quickly place your hands over to stop. “No.” She nods. “No.” She repeats which makes you instantly melt.

A few minutes later, her friend reappears and asks Wanda, “So did you ask?” The younger girl frowns in confusion as do you, and the redhead woman smirks at you. “She told me with her mind while I was on a date that she wanted to ask you out. Did she do it?” You feel a warm blush coating your cheeks as you shake your head. “Kind of. She’s very high. I didn’t think she meant it. And besides, I don’t date patients.” 

She nods, taking the handles of the wheelchair and beginning to wheel the young girl out of the office. Before they reach the door, Wanda calls out quite loudly, “Send me your maple syrup recipe, pretty doctor lady!”

They continue walking out of the medical wing, and you're left with a permanent blush on your face as you think about Wanda Maximoff.

That night, you’re laying in bed when you get a text from an unknown number. It’s three videos of Wanda, two of them her rambling about how pretty you are, and one crying because her friend refused to stop at the Mexican restaurant and get her a taco to blend into a shake. You laugh, looking at the last text that reads, “She literally cried in the gas station because she couldn’t find the toilet and didn’t want my help. Next time I’ll leave her with you until the anesthesia wears off - Natasha”

You chuckle, sending back a quick laughing emoji and asking how the young girl is doing. “She’s okay. She refuses to get rid of the balloon you gave her and will not stfu about you.” This brings a smile to your face and you text back and forth with the Avenger for a while before falling asleep with your phone in hand.

A week passes, and you text back and forth with Natasha at least once a day to check on Wanda. You have to admit that you miss the funny girl, but you're standing by the rule you made that you cannot date patients. 

You’re leading a ten year old patient to his mothers car after his oral surgery when you see something that makes you smile in confusion. Wanda is standing up against a in the parking lot, seemingly aggressively texting someone. You help the boy into the car and watch the car leave the parking lot before going back inside. If Wanda needs something, she’ll come in and ask for it.

It’s only about three minutes before she does, and the cold air of winter enters the building as she walks through the main door. You’re standing at the front desk looking through a file with one of the nurses when she walks up to the desk with hesitant steps. “Wanda. How are you, dear?” She nods, babbling on for a second before she clears her throat and mutters, “I’m alright.”

You don’t have any more patients for a few minutes, so you walk around the desk so you're standing in front of her. “That’s good. So…..I’m not saying it’s not nice to see you but why are you here? Did something happen with your stitches?” She shakes her head, gently lifting up her lip to show you the still intact stitches that are allowing her gums to heal back together. “I’m here because well…..I chipped my tooth.” She holds a hand behind her back as she opens her mouth to show you that on the other side of her mouth is in fact a chipped tooth. You sigh, thinking over your schedule before you tell her. “Maybe I can give you a filling this afternoon. Come back at 1pm Miss. Maximoff.” She smiles brightly at you and nods, waving you off as she leaves the office. For someone who's afraid of anything to do with the dentist, she seems quite excited to have another procedure.

Wanda goes back to the compound to wait the next few hours, and when her best friend comes in to ask why she went to the doctors she casually states, “Because I chipped my tooth.” “What? No you didn’t. You would have told me and then I would have had to force you to go to the dentist.” Natasha laughs as she eats from her bowl of ice cream. When Wanda doesn’t respond, she laughs even harder and questions, “Wanda Maximoff, tell me you did not purposely chip your tooth so you can have more time with that doctor.” The witch groans, turning around to face her friend. “I used magic to do it so i didn’t really hurt!” She says it as if that's any better. “Wanda! You used your magic to give that poor doctor even more work to do?! Why can’t you just grow some balls and ask them out?” “Okay first of all, “grow some balls”? What are we, in middle school? And second of all, I will. Once I get my chipped tooth fixed.” “The one you chipped on purpose!”

Later that day, you finish filling Wanda's chipped tooth and then tell her, “The numbing gel will take a bit to wear off and then you may feel a bit of pain but not as much as you feel on your stitches okay?” She nods, sitting up in the chair and sending you an awkward smile. You lead her to the front desk, and leave for a few moments before coming back with a blown up glove. The child-like grin that shows up on her face is priceless. “Thank you!” “Anytime Miss Maximoff. Now, I hope you have a great day and watch that tooth!”

Now, when you said “anytime”, you didn’t mean anytime. Apparently, Wanda didn’t get this memo as she was back three weeks later. “Wanda! What a surprise! What brings you to my office today?” She smiles nervously, opening her mouth to show you the chipped tooth on the top row of her teeth this time. You sigh, already looking in the computer to schedule her an appointment for the next day. “That's two chipped teeth in one month. What happened honey?” She shrugs, thinking for a few seconds before she tells you, “I was eating a bagel this morning and it just suddenly broke!” “Right. Well, you can come back at 11am tomorrow and I’ll fill it. But you have to be more careful alright sweetie?” She nods, smiling at you before practically running out the door.

Over the next few months, you had Wanda Maximoff in your office a total of 13 times. You literally started keeping track. Whether it was toothaches, her habit of grinding her teeth, a chipped tooth, or to bring you lunch at one point, you talked to the Avenger at least every two weeks.

Today, it’s been about a week since you saw Wanda when she came in complaining about a pain in her jaw. You begin to wonder how she pays for this many dentist appointments, but that thought is quickly resolved when she wrote you a check with a whole lot of 0’s without hesitation a few months ago.

Today, you’re eating lunch in the break room after giving a screaming 12 year old oral surgery and Vanessa comes in with a smirk. “Your girlfriends here.” “My girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend V.” She shrugs, pointing to the hallway which leads to the front as she teases, “The woman that comes in with a different tooth problem every few weeks- which is much more than anyone should have to go to the dentist by the way- isn’t your girlfriend?” You roll your eyes and stand up, but you can’t help the blush that grows on your face as you think about the Maximoff girl. “Shut up V.” 

You walk to the front of the office building with your salad in hand, smiling brightly as the back of the redhead who's sitting in a chair reading a magazine. “Hey witchy. What brings you here today?” She stumbles off the chair and grins at you. “Hi! I’m here because……because…..because my friend chipped a tooth!” A man with blond hair and big strong arms looks up from his book and gives the girl a confused look. “No I didn’t-” He cuts himself off with a loud groan and brings a hand up to hold his cheek. “What the hell Wanda?” You stare at the pair for a few seconds before he suddenly narrows his eyes as Wanda and states. “No way. I’m not letting you do this anymore.”

Her eyes widen, but it’s too late to do anything as he tells you, quite loudly might I add, “Wanda has a crush on you but has been too baby to say anything so she's been using her magic to fake tooth injuries!” You're silent for a few minutes, and Wanda seems to be getting more nervous by the seconds as she won't make eye contact with you. 

Suddenly, you begin to giggle, which turns into a chuckle which turns into a full on laugh. There's only one patient other than them here and he looks up at you weirdly as you practically stop breathing with laughter. Wanda begins to nervously chuckle, still not making eye contact with you as she asks, “Wha- um…what's funny?”

You stop laughing, taking a bite of your salad as you tell her, “Well Wanda Maximoff, I’ve been flirted with a lot of times by patients, but never once has a patient faked an injury and actually gotten away with it. Props to you honey.” You hold your hand up for a high five, and she awkwardly high fives you. “Along with that, never once has it worked. Their flirting I mean.” “And mine didn’t either?” You sigh, looking to the front desk where all the nurses and doctors are watching you. “Go back to work!” you mouth (not that any of them listen though). “Wanda….sweetie…..I don’t date patients.” She sighs, nodding her head as her friend rubs her back reassuringly. A pen is thrown at your head from one of the other doctors making you silently groan and rub your head. “But….”

Her head snaps up and a hopeful grin takes over her face. “But?” “But if you wait 6 months for our doctor patient relationship to be terminated, I’ll let you take me out on a date.” If possible, her smile gets bigger and she nods, sticking out her hand for you to shake. “Deal?” “Deal.” You shake her hand, but you're quickly pulled into a bone crushing hug.

Wanda Maximoff is an interesting girl. You knew that when she came in for her first appointment a blew a hole through the office window, or when she kept breaking tooth after tooth. There's nothing wrong with being interesting though, as it just gives you a million other things to learn about the girl. Which you did over time when her patient doctor relationship with you finally terminated and she took you on a total of six dates in one month. You learned she's a romance girl, which only continued the longer you guys dated. You learned she cries over dog movies even if they have a happy ending, you learned about her brother Pietro and that every year on the night before their birthday, she sits outside with two plates of cake- one for her, and one for him- as the clock strikes twelve. You learned she loves cooking and baking, and that she can’t paint to save her life. She has flaws, and she's not afraid to admit them as long as you're not afraid to admit yours. And that's only a few reasons why you love her.

[feyhunter78]

Flowers on Your Doorstep

Art cred: Panprika (y'all have no idea how long I searched for this pic, I was losing my mind)

Description: After you bail on lunch, Miguel finds himself seeking advice on how to deal with your cold shoulder.

You’re ignoring him, phone on do not disturb, dodging him on campus and you’re even skipping lab. Of course, the TA said you emailed saying you were sick, but Miguel doesn’t believe it.

He knows you, knows you always push through, that you never skip lab because you’re too afraid you’ll miss something important, and your grades will slip. You’re not sick, this is something else. Something that you won’t tell him, and Brett won’t tell him either.

So, he turns to his next best option, Mina. She’s laying on Gabriel’s bed like she owns it, phone in hand, the room smelling faintly of weed. First, she glares at him, and then clicks her tongue disappointedly, sighing, “you just had to go running around with Ava again, huh?”

“Bro really?” Gabriel groans from his desk, spinning around in his chair to face Miguel. “She’s the fucking worst.”

“She just needed someone to talk to, she doesn’t trust anyone else, I was just being nice.” He says, massaging his temples as Mina continues to click her tongue, the tsk, tsk, tsk sound starting to give him a headache.

“You know what she does to you.” Mina chides, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

He does, he knows it all too well. Ava brings out the worst in him, she corrupted him, as you might say. But she’s still a person he once cared about, even if she stomped on his heart and threw it in a gutter, all the while laughing with her new boyfriend.

“She’s changed, she and Kyle broke up.” He shouldn’t be defending her, he knows that, but there’s still a part of him that wants to prove it wasn’t a mistake to love her.

“Oh again? What is this the twelfth time? I’m sure it’ll last this time around.” She deadpans, raising a perfectly arched brow at him.

Gabriel snickers, then gives Miguel a half-hearted apologetic look.

“What does this have to do with y/n, Mina?” He says tersely, running a hand through his hair, frustration burning, licking at his heels. He just wants to leave, to find you and beg you to tell him what he did wrong.

“She likes you, dumbass, and then she found out you’ve been hanging around Ava, while you’ve been hanging with her. What do you think that looks to her?” Mina asks, her expression making it clear to him that the answer should be obvious, and that she thinks he’s stupid.

He’s going to be sick.

“I—I would never—it’s not like that, I don’t want Ava back, I was just trying to be nice, I didn’t think…”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Mina scoffs, going back to her phone and tapping it a few times.

His stomach churns as he thinks back to earlier this week, the way Ava dragged him away, distracted him with stories from back when they were dating, good ones, funny ones. It was only meant to be a short conversation, you were supposed to get lunch, like always, he wanted to get lunch with you, like always.

He can picture it now, you hiding behind the Sig Epp letters watching him, watching the way Ava still didn’t understand boundaries and put her hands all over him. He could hear the tears coating your voice when he called you, it was like a knife through his chest and he just wanted to go to you. Wanted to wipe away your tears and do something, anything he could, to make it better.

“Look Miguelito just apologize, maybe bring some flowers and wear that sad puppy dog look you’ve got perfected.” Gabriel chimes in, stretching his arms above his head, before standing and approaching him, squeezing his shoulder empathetically. “You can never go wrong with flowers.”

Gabriel was wrong, very, very wrong.

You take the flowers Miguel offers you as he stands on your doorstep, patient, anxious, stomach still twisted in knots.

“Did Ava not want these or…?” You ask, inspecting the flowers with a detached look.

“No—no, I mean, they’re for you, only for you.”

“Oh, okay so she got her own, cool, cool.” You say, placing the flowers on the entryway table next to your door and crossing your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t get Ava flowers.”

“Okay.” You say, foot tapping against the wood laminate of your doorway.

“She’s my ex-girlfriend, we dated for a while, she cheated on me.” He admits in a rush.

Your frigid expression melts into something softer. “I—I didn’t know that.”

He rubs his neck sheepishly. “I don’t like to talk about it. It was a really rough time in my life. But her and I are over, I don’t have any lingering feelings for her.”

“Brett told me. He’s seen you and her together, both before we got close, and after…” You wrap your arms around yourself, your eyes downcast. “If you still have feelings for her, I get it, she’s gorgeous, and you guys have a lot of history.”

“I don’t have feelings for her, we broke up the summer before my freshman year here. She just transferred in at the beginning of this year, and she’s been having problems with her boyfriend. I guess she hasn’t really made any friends, so she’s been leaning on me.”

“And you’re too nice to say no to her.” Your voice is soft, tainted with sadness.

“I told her to find someone else, after you canceled lunch, she wanted to keep talking, keep flirting with me because she knew her ex would see us. I said no.”

You look up at him, half in hope, half in disbelief, it’s written all over your face. “Yeah?”

He nods.

You bite your lip then release it slowly, picking the flowers back up. “These are really pretty.”

He gathers his courage. “Just like you.”

A smile flits across your face. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression with Ava, I shouldn’t have left you stranded while I talked with her, we had prior plans, and I should have stuck to them.”

“It’s okay.” You tell him, holding the flowers to your chest.

He wants to ask you if what Mina said was true, if you feel the same way he does, but it feels wrong somehow. Like it would cheapen the moment.

“Do you want to come in and see our costumes for the dance?” You ask, taking a step back and allowing him entry.

Directly connected parts: Jealousy, Jealousy (previous part) and Semiformal Kisses and Cat Fights (takes place after this current part)

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey, @scoobysnakz, @ihateuguys, @idkbros-world @smartyren, @deputy-videogamer, @blackrose8425

[cheemscakecat]

A slight opportunity missed.

So, there’s not a whole lot that I’d change about Hank and Connor’s storyline in Detroit Become Human, but that being said.

The story takes place in 2038, and Hank is a Millennial.

Millennials don’t have that Gen Z knowledge of new technology, but they do have a pretty decent understanding of it and some have healthy skepticism. They aren’t like Boomers, who struggle to adjust to using new tech and fall for more scams. Like AI generated photos and scam emails.

There are Millennial parents that buy IPads for their literal infants and let them get brain rotted, but Hank doesn’t strike me as the type to do that.

I think there’s a missed opportunity to make Lieutenant Anderson the type of Millennial who doesn’t blindly trust new products in tech. He’s like the sensible Millennial who thinks linking your house up to an Alexa to control the lights, appliances, and doors, is dystopian. Literally does not see a point in doing all that.

Bro probably took one look at the Metaverse trailer, knew it was gonna be dog water, and laughed at its failure. Hank probably used to mess with phone scammers like this Officer:

Another change I talked about previously is having Conner be in use before the first deviant case, helping with unrelated cases. That way it feels like the Police have a reason to trust Conner enough to include him in the Cyberlife related cases. It’s highly suspicious for them to insert a police Android during an investigation that could make or break their company.

I would write Hank as still having reservations about using Connor, since he’s skeptical of Cyberlife’s intentions. He thinks Cyberlife is using this walking, talking recording device to mine information from the Police department [Which is true].

You know that scene where Connor scans Anderson’s desk to figure out his interests and break the ice? That would literally just make Hank feel like he’s right about the data mining. I’d have him sit down, not stoked about the android but resigned to deal with it, then get progressively more frustrated by Connor’s attempts to act friendly.

Then Hank stomps to the chief’s office and starts refusing to work with the android. Only to be told he has no choice. Lieutenant Anderson disliking Connor, not just because of what happened to Cole, but because he’s smart enough to think Cyberlife is using him as spyware, would be an interesting factor in their relationship.

I think the turning point where you can actually befriend Hank would be when you show up at his house and sober him up. Because a regular machine would probably just stand in one spot and call an ambulance. But Connor very stubbornly moves Anderson to his bathroom and starts briefing him on the mission once he’s sober.

One would assume this android is programmed to wait for an ambulance and confirmation that Hank’s okay, then request a different human cop to help with the investigation that night. But Connor’s actions are much more human and “illogical” than that.

He’s impatient and stubborn, two traits that Cyberlife androids aren’t programmed with. Maybe the Traci Models, but 9 times out of 10, impatient and stubborn androids are bad for business. Any adult should know that, Hank included.

The meaner interrogation could have been written off as Cyberlife programming a bunch of dialogue into Connor based on cases and movie scenes. That was at work, and for all Anderson knows, Connor was always programmed to be able to intimidate criminals. But it’s a lot harder to write off an Android dragging you to the bathtub and refusing to take no for an answer about investigating that night.

That’s human. Illogical, stubborn, overstepping his bounds… and human. Leaving the car at the murder scene, despite being commanded to stay, could have been written off as Connor’s spyware programming too. Not attitude or impatience. But in retrospect, it would make sense as part of his personality too.