#so now she just casually have a picture of my drawing

[jockw]

[pinkboaclub]

Scene Stealers

Summery: You and Harry decide to film yourself having sex for fun, until you decide to upload it and become famous over night.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: a lot of smut, sex tapes/filmed sex, pornstars, slight dom Harry, fem!reader (you and Harry attend a University in the US, but he is still English :)

It started as an intimate moment between you two, something that you thought would be funny. You were cuddling in your dorm room, squeezing yourselves into the twin bed, watching a movie on your laptop. Your roommate was gone, she was spending the weekend with her family, which allowed you two to get close.

It was slow, Harry giving you light kisses on your head as it rested on his chest, your hand resting on his abdomen, slowly rubbing up and down every once in a while. It wasn’t until Harry paused the movie and closed the laptop that you climbed on top of him, straddling his body. You leaned down to start making out with him, letting your hands grip his shirt as you started to grind yourself against his crotch. Your already short shorts were starting to ride up while he gripped your ass.

“Mmm, let me see you.” He lightly pushed you forward, motioning you to sit up as he pulled away from your lips. You giggled, not really knowing what he was trying to do. “I want to take a picture of you.”

“No, my hair looks so crazy right now.” You laughed, covering your face as he grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

“You look so perfect.” He placed one hand on your hip, capturing you while you hid behind your hands. “C’mon baby, let me see your pretty face.”

You finally uncovered your face to let him quickly snap his photos.

“Are you done yet?” You laughed as he kept his phone pointed toward you.

“I’m taking a video.”

“Harryyy.” You said, drawing out his name. “I wanna keep kissing you.” You tugged on his shirt, hoping to get back to where you were and leaned down to kiss his neck.

“We can keep this on.” He whispered, gesturing to his phone, you both stared at each other for a moment. He leaned over to place his phone on the nightstand, propping it up against his water bottle, the camera pointing towards the bed. “Is this okay?”

You slowly nodded your head, “You’re not going to go around showing this to all your frat buddies, are you?”

“Hell no, this is only for me.” You knew he was telling you the truth, not only because you trusted him, but because you knew he wasn’t wasn’t the stereotypical frat boy—going around showing intimate photos of his girlfriend to everyone.

You leaned down again, going back to kissing him, his hands immediately finding their way back to your ass. He flipped you over, still being careful in the smaller bed. His hand traveled up your shirt, feeling every inch of your chest.

As he began to lift up your shirt you stopped him, remembering the camera pointed at the both of you. “Are we going to keep recording?” You smiled, looking up at him.

“We’ll do whatever you want, baby. Do you want to keep recording? Get your pretty face on camera, taking my cock?”

That was the first time you made a sex tape together. And it definitely wasn’t the last.

It was almost three times a week that you would film yourselves. There was something about it that was so exciting and sexy. It was a deeply intimate and vulnerable moment between you two and filming it to watch over and over again made it much more fun for some reason. It was very casual though, you weren't worried about getting certain shots, about anyone viewing it, it was just two University students filming themselves for fun.

Until it wasn’t.

You couldn’t remember who suggested you upload the videos to PornHub, but you do remember sitting on his bed in his frat house, watching the video slowly upload to the website.

“I can still cancel it, if you want to change your mind.” He reminded you.

But you didn’t cancel it, you both watched it upload with no regret in sight. You stared at the video for minutes, watching the view count. When the number went from 0 to 1 you both jumped. Someone just watched you two have sex.

Though it wasn’t your initial intention to make money from this, when you woke up to 100,000 views on your first video, after going to bed with under 50, and 20,000 subscribers, it wasn’t a conversation you could avoid. You were two broke students who needed extra money…and now you could get that by just having sex.

“I mean it’s not a bad idea…we’ve already made 100 dollars, for one video.” You said, pacing back and forth in your dorm room while Harry sat on your bed. “I guess I just worry about people finding out…our friends, our parents…that’s the only thing I worry about.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Fuck ‘em.” He shifted to the edge of the bed and grabbed your arm to pull you closer. “We’re making good money just off one video, we’re not showing our faces, it would be a wasted opportunity. Who cares what other people think, assuming they’d ever even find out.”

“I know……but we can’t tell anyone, if they find out, they find out, but let’s just try to keep it a secret as long as possible.”

Harry gave you a kiss, letting his lips linger on yours for a moment, until he moved to your jawbone, then your neck.

“Plus, I’ve been enjoying having these…..watching my pretty girl get fucked whenever I want…and you’re so good on camera, you’re a natural. You’re pretty moans…pushing your beautiful tits together, I want people to watch us, knowing I’m the only one who gets to fuck you.”

So you continued making videos. You still weren’t worried about the quality, it was the only art form where people were quite content with quantity over quality.

You still didn’t show your faces, only shooting videos from the neck down as he fucked you in missionary, setting the camera up behind you as you were riding him, and yet, people loved it.

You were getting millions of views per video with thousands of comments…people were actually taking the time to create an account and comment on a porn video for you guys. They loved how gentle Harry was with you while also being dominant, how he praised you, gave you the best aftercare, sometimes even stopping before his orgasm to cuddle with you and help you come down from yours. They loved your moans and how you knew how to be a perfect mix of sweet and sexy.

Comments (1.3k)

User497063848:

i’ve never commented on a video before but i created an account just to let you know how perfect this video is 👍

KeeponWorking0527

I need a relationship like this. You two are perfect.

cherryangel444

he is sooooo hot,,,she is very lucky

Keepcumming8742

→ HE is the lucky one she has such a perfect body

It wasn’t long until you felt like porn celebrities.

You were constantly being featured on the home page, people in your comments were begging for more videos minutes after you just posted…but most of all, they were dying to see your faces.

“I mean…it’s not a horrible idea, and a lot of people are demanding it.” Harry pointed out, as you debated whether or not to reveal your identities.

“But it’s also something we can’t take back…once our faces are out there, they’re out there forever.”

“That’s true…but is that such a bad thing? We'll make so much more money if we use our names and show our faces, that we'll be rich enough to just disappear if we end up regretting it.” Harry replied, knowing that pornstars who had a face to their content make way more money than anonymous performers. “We could buy a house in the Italian countryside as retired pornstars.”

You laughed as he outlined your future together. “This is something you’ve thought about a lot?”

“Of course I have, the only thing I’ve been worrying about since we started dating is how we’re going to comfortably spend the rest of our lives together, and we’re making a fuck ton of money…this is the only time that weight hasn’t been on my shoulders.”

You looked at him softly, not knowing he had been stressing over your future together. You would be lying if you said your life hadn’t improved once you became sex workers. Not having to worry about tuition, food, finances after graduating, you felt liberated.

“Let’s show our faces then.”

For your next video, not only did you show your faces but you upgraded everything. You went from iPhones to a professional camera and microphones, capturing the perfect shots and noises of each position.

You decided to film in Harry’s bedroom at his frat house while all his friends were at some party at a sorority. You could be as open and loud as you wanted. You swapped out Harry’s gray and navy blue sheets for some pretty florals that matched well with your lingerie.

Harry set up the camera on a tripod at the side of the bed as you waited on the bed, sitting on your heels. Once he hit the record he walked over to you, his hands immediately finding your hips and pulling you close.

“Tell me if you want to stop, or if you need a break, whatever you need.”

You nodded and smashed your lips onto his, eager to make your video. His hands roamed your entire body to highlight each feature for the camera.

“You look so sexy, I love this set.” He complimented you, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

“I figured I needed to wear my best for the special occasion.” You cheekily replied, pulling him down with you as you threw your bra aside and layed down on your back.

It wasn’t long until the camera was off the tripod and in Harry’s hand, filming you as he hovered above you, running his hands up your stomach and kneeding your breasts.

“So perfect.” He whispered, admiring your body.

His hands slowly fell to your panties, hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down. Teasing you, his fingers danced around your pussy, but never touching where you wanted him to.

“mmm, please Harry.” You whined, trying to roll your hips into his fingers. It felt odd to say his name on camera, which you had previously avoided doing.

“Okay, baby, I’ve got you.” He finally slid two fingers inside of you, causing you to let out a heavy breath and continue to roll your hips as he curled his fingers upward.

“So good, Harry.”

Your fingers found the waistband of his briefs in between your legs and pulled them down. As his cock sprang out you grabbed it and started to slowly jerk him off.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask, looking up at him and the camera.

You both definitely played up your sexuality when you were filming, because you knew how porn worked, but what made people like you so much is that it was still natural and realistic, it never crossed the line of being theatrical.

“Do you need to ask, pretty baby?” You gave him a satisfactory smile and shifted to where he was sitting on the bed, still holding the camera, and you sat on your knees in front of him.

You grabbed his cock again, using your mouth and lips to lick and kiss along his entire shaft. Your eyes stayed on him, and the lense of the camera, most of the time, giving them a seductive look.

“Such a perfect cock sucker.” Harry ogled, switching between looking directly at you and through the camera.

Your mouth found his tip, preparing him and yourself before lowering your mouth down repeatedly. You moaned as you pleased his cock, another thing your viewers loved. From your very first videos they would comment how you seemed to love Harry’s cock by your repetitive hums and moans as it was in your mouth.

FranksPH1985

Listen to how much she moans while his dick is in her mouth, she looks so perfect.

lovelylovely<3

her moaning every time he praises her as she sucks him 😩 you are such a cute couple!! 💞

User29394682031

She sucks him off like it’s her favorite pastime. Lucky man.

You eventually found yourself back on the bed, laying down in the same position you were prior, laying down on your back. This time, you held the camera as he laid down in between your legs.

He peppered kisses on your inner thighs until his mouth found your clit, giving an initial lick before lapping and sucking at it. Your free hand grabbed his hair, gripping and pulling as he pleasured you.

“Oh, fuck, Harry, that’s so fucking good.” You cried, lifting your hips up and down, unable to stay still.

“Yeah? You like your pussy licked sweet baby?” You moaned in response. He lifted one of your legs, pushing it to your chest to get better access as his motions sped up.

“Need you to fuck me, please Harry.” You said after a couple minutes, knowing you wouldn’t last much longer, but wanted to cum on his cock.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

He got off the bed and grabbed the tripod, placing it on the other side of the bed, focused on you two.

“Flip over, let me see you on your knees.” He requested in a dominant tone, helping you flip over.

He dragged his cock up and down against you as a way to tease you, which worked. You whimpered out impatiently, causing him to lay a light slap to your ass.

“Be patient baby, you’ll get my cock eventually, no need to be a whiney girl.”

He finally slid himself into you and pushed his entire length in, causing you to slightly wince. His pace was very quick from the get go, causing a string of long moans to repetitively leave your mouth.

“Uh huh, fuck Harry…please keep going.”

He stayed quiet, focusing on slamming his hips into your ass. You struggled to hold yourself up as he pounced into you, both your arms and legs almost giving out at his fast pace.

Your stomach began to churn, a familiar warmness beginning to fill your stomach. Then suddenly, right as you were nearing your orgasm, his thrusts drastically stopped, causing your breathing to hitch. As he started to move again, his thrusts stayed slow, feeling like there were minutes in between each one.

Taking matters into your own hands, after silent whines didn’t work, you started to back yourself into him, hoping to get as close to your orgasm as you once were. Harry immediately stopped you, roughly grabbed your hips and pulled you into him, bottoming himself out in you.

You cried out as you felt his long cock reach the deepest it could go.

“Shhh, shhh, stop baby.” He told you, leaning down to wrap an arm around you and talk in your ear. “Are you going to be a good girl and let me fuck you how I want? Or do we need to stop?”

“I’ll be good…please, I was about to cum Harry.” You complied. He gave you a kiss on the cheek before leaning back up.

“I know baby, I know. We’ll get you there.”

After continuing working on an extremely slow pace from behind, he turned you around, so you were still on your hands and knees, but now facing him. Taking your chin in his hand, he looked down at you.

“Can you suck my dick again?” He kindly asked. You almost laughed, this was one of his ways he liked to edge you, roughly work on you until you were so close to climaxing, then take all the attention off you. You can’t say you didn’t mind it, it made the orgasm 10x, and your viewers sure didn’t mind.

“You’re so mean.” You sarcastically said, trying to hide your smile.

“Oh, I know, so mean.” He replied, pouting his lip.

You grabbed his cock again, giving it all your attention, knowing that would get him back to fucking you sooner. Your ass stayed in the air, almost as if you were trying to entice him. And it definitely worked as he leaned forward to move his cock farther into your throat and to grab a handful of your ass.

Once you couldn’t take it anymore, you kissed up his abdomen, coming and crawling toward him.

“Please Harry.” You begged, leaning in to kiss him with your pouty lip. “I’ve only asked nicely, and I’ve been good.”

“I know you have baby, you’ve been so good. Why don’t you lay down for me, hmm? On your back.”

You didn’t hesitate. You placed your back on bed and opened your legs as if there was no time to waste.

“Let’s grab you a pillow, make sure you’re comfy.” He grabbed a pillow and placed it under your head. Once you were finally situated, his thrusts went back to a steadily fast past.

Harry placed one of your legs on his shoulder, holding the other one at his side as he watched your breast bounce at the rhythm of his thrusts.

“So fucking pretty…I love watching you.” He admired you. You didn’t reply, letting your repeated moans speak for themselves.

“Harry, ‘m so close.” You cried out, arching your back.

“Let go baby, wanna feel you squeeze my cock.” He encouraged you.

You reached back, grabbing a fistful of your pillow and letting your mouth fall open in pleasure . Your stomach twisted again until you reached your peak, your orgasm erupting through you. It was almost like you blackedout from how powerful it was. You squeezed your eyes shut as all the sound around you was shut out.

Your breathing was heavy as you came down, like you had just run 5 miles. Harry’s pace slowed again, letting your now sensitive body rest.

“Need a break, baby?” This was the question he always asked after bringing you to an orgasm, knowing they could be quite powerful. It was something both you and your fans found endearing (and hot).

cycybaby1999

notice how he immediately checks in on her after she cums? 🥺 take notes men!

CherryLoved

The hottest thing a man can do is give you aftercare before he finishes. Y’all are so perf. 🫶

He pulled himself out of you, laid beside you and pulled you into his chest. He gently rubbed your back and rested his lips on your head.

“My legs are so shaky.” You noticed, smiling into his chest.

He chucked, looking down at your trembling limbs. “Poor girl,” He kissed your head and continued to help you come down. You felt your eyes become heavy, Harry’s now steady heart putting you to sleep. “All done?” He questioned, still rubbing your back.

“No, no, I wanted you to cum on my face.” He chuckled at your blatant vulgarity. “I thought it would be a good shot for our face reveal.”

You kneeled back down on the floor as Harry grabbed the camera again. You spit in your hand and began rubbing his shaft, using a mix of your spit and cum to get him off. The camera picked up Harry’s heavy, now unsteady, breathing as his orgasm approached.

He freed one of his hands and held the back of your hair before cumming all over your face. He took a moment to let the camera capture the white fluid that laid on your lips, cheek, and forehead.

After Harry gave you his sweet aftercare and stopped filming, you both cleaned up before getting back into his bed.

“That was so perfect, baby.” He complimented you as you rested against his chest, wearing one of his shirts and his sweatpants. “You still want to upload it?” He asked, clarifying once again.

“Of course, I think people will really like it…At least I did.”

Three days later, the video was uploaded and quickly became your highest viewed video, and the comments overwhelmingly positive.

Finally doing a face reveal!!! | HARRY & Y/N

CherryLoved

OMG??? YOU GUYS ARE WAY HOTTER THAN I IMAGINED?!?!

User29394682031

Never thought I’d see this day. Very hot.

lovelylovely<3

you guys are sooooo cute 😩😩😩 im going to love watching you even more now!!!

cycybaby1999

damn girl, you are so gorg !!!

FranksPH1985

Big day for horny people.

You would open your computer every morning and read all the wonderful comments you were getting, which motivated you to make more and more videos.

“This is crazy…we’re going to become sex fiends after this.” You joked as you sat in his bed.

“So not much will change.” He joked back.

As you continued to read through each comment, your phone dinged from the nightstand. It was a text from your roommate.

Laila

Are you and Harry pornstars?

Tag List!

@mema10 @lizsogolden @harrrrystylesslut @tulips4harry @cloudyluun

[onetoomanyfandomfixations]

Helluva Boss Characters Reacting to You Asking for a Hug

Tbh this series is just for my own enjoyment at this point lmao

I’m so normal about them, I swear.

BLITZØ

Honestly, it depends on what type of relationship you have with him

Familial relationship? Best BELIEVE he’s coddling the shit outta you rn

^ def a cheek pincher

“Hey sweetie? Do you need me ta fuck someone up for ya?”

But if y’all are platonic, or SATAN FORBID

R O M A N T I C ?

Ur not getting Shit

Well, until you start crying

“You’re a fuckin’ baby, you know that?”

Very casual hugs

Always sits his chin on you

Will complain the entire time

But you both know he loves you

LOONA

“Oh shit, you good?”

She’s blunt, not heartless

Honestly pretty touched that you asked for a hug instead of just going for one

Like her adoptive dad, very casual hugs

Usually just slings an arm over your shoulders

Won’t talk to you about it

Y’all just sit in comforting silence

Don’t let anyone point out that she’s letting you touch her

Will get v flustered

Depending on how you both feel - may let you play with her hair to self regulate

MILLIE

“Sure thing, hun!”

Doesn’t matter who you are, or why you need a hug, she’ll take it

Physical affection is her top love language idc

Squeezes super super tight

Like, you can barely breathe

Gushes over how sweet you are

Will probs pepper your face in kisses too (doesn’t matter what ur relationship with her is)

((Millie is a strong believer in non-romantic kisses, she told me herself))

Will probs ask Moxxie to bring y’all a drink

MOXXIE

“Uhh, you sure you want a hug from me?”

Yes babe I’m sure

Doesn’t think he’s the best one to be comforting you - will palm you off to Millie if he can

But will be offended if anyone else says he can’t look after you

^^ Gets all huffy about it

Distraction is his new best friend

Will tell you a mixture of stories and fun facts to try and make you feel better

Will also make you a hot drink

If you want to, will talk out your feelings with you

STOLAS

Babes just blinks for a hot minute as your words register with him

Has the softest smile

“Of course, dearest. Come here.”

A hug isn’t enough for him, you’re in for a full blown cuddle sesh now

Likes the feeling of having you fully wrapped up in his arms

Forehead kisses. Forehead Kisses.

Will sometimes swaddle you in blankets like a literal baby

Hums softly for you

Tries to ask what’s wrong, will def push the subject

He just wants to fix it, okay?

Will just,,, smother you in affection until you’re okay

And then some

OCTAVIA

Judgemental eyebrow raise.

Judgy, judgy girl

Y’all gotta be CLOSE for her to hug

((But not really, she’s so touch starved its not funny, but we don’t talk about that-))

Long, comforting hugs

If u end up crying, will fix your makeup for you

Don’t mention it though

Like, literally don’t mention it or it won’t happen again

She probs just breathes a sigh of relief when y’all hugs

Holds on a little too tight, for a little too long

If you ask first, she’ll start coming to you for hugs now too

FIZZAROLLI

Baby. Baby, baby man.

Will wrap his arms around you several times over

Another really tight hugger

You had shit to do?

Sike, not anymore

Now you’re spending all day with Fizz

Your fault, you started it by asking for a hug

Is super worried about you, but tries to play it down

Will do stupid shit just to see you laugh

Will ALSO flirt with you until you can’t stand it anymore

ASMODEUS

Immediately concerned, does not try to hide it

Much like his bf, cancels all plans for today

Y’all are gonna be chilling in bed and cuddling now

Just kinda,,, scoops you up?

Definitely plays with your hair

Gives a SOLID head massage

So so gentle and sweet

Just lays you on his chest

Draws pictures on your back and makes you guess what he’s drawing

^^ he does this to help ground you

Tbh he’ll probably drag Fizz to bed too, so know they’re both looking after you

Mans isn’t gonna let anyone get left out

[theonottsbxtch]

LANDO NORRIS MASTERLIST

codes: ✦ angst ꔫ smut

ONE SHOTS

its ok im ok | ex!reader summary: lando broke up with her, she's supposed to be miserable isn't she. she's supposed to hate the new girl. but she isn't, if anything she pities her, because she's okay now. she wishes the best for the new one.

✦ casual | situationship!reader summary: with men like lando it's always going to be the same thing the half truths and empty promises, she's meant to feel like he loves her, but does he?

✦ set fire to the rain | toxic relationship summary: every man she had been with had hollowed her out, she'd sworn off of them completely. but lando looked like he wasn't those guys, until he proved her wrong. until he made he realise he's just like them.

two hands | bartender!reader summary: vegas. free bad. gorgeous bartender. is it really bad is lando wants her two hands on him at all time?

✦ the come down | druggie!lando summary: she'd been there for him through it all, the highs the lows. the dips in moods, the constant arguments. but there was only so much a girl can take.

✦ honest | ex girlfriend!reader summary: neither of them were every quite honest with each other, that was their problem. that was what led to their break up but never to their make up.

✦ given enough | toxic relationship summary: she had a perfect painted picture for them, one that felt like she was clawing at his skull, heart and bones. lando thought he had given her enough, but enough was never enough for her.

✦ hear me (purple laced bra) | gf!reader summary: dating a star is meant to be cool! exciting, he's meant to love you, show you off and see you. but that was the problem with lando, it was fun, he did show her off. but he never saw her. never truly saw her.

ꔫ low life | hockey player!lando summary: being one of the top prospects means you get everything, the money, the girls, the drugs. the addictive life style. but that's not enough, because the one thing he wants, he can't have. oscar's girlfriend. or can he?

✦ ghost of her | ex!reader summary: she'd walked out a long time ago, long enough that he should have gotten his shit together by then, moved on, started life anew, but he couldn't. everywhere he looked he could see her. and that was his problem. that's why he couldn't move on.

velvet & vice | mob boss!lando summary: an arranged marriage was never what lando wanted to do with his life, but he was aware that at some point it was in the cards. so he accepted it, he accepted the marriage as long as his promised wife followed the rules. the problem for lando though was that his wife didn't follow the rules, if anything she outsmarted him.

SMAU

cool for the summer | summer fling!reader summary: each summer. lando went to the same resort, and each summer he fell a little bit harder for the owner's daughter.

english love affair | piastri!reader summary: oscar's sister was everything he wasn't. she was in a band, reckless and cheeky and that seemed to draw lando in so quick. it wasn't his fault if he fell for her crazy charm.

private | singer!reader summary: the two them both had very successful careers, it made sense for them to keep everything private, until fans started to piece one and one together.

my kinda crazy | driver!reader summary: she was insane. like clinically insane, she had no problem taking a golf club to his prized car collection. and for some reason, he had no problem watching it happen. he knew exactly what she wanted.

SERIES

when the world goes quiet | flight lieutenant!lando summary: set during ww2 in london, this story follows the unlikely romance between a soulful jazz singer and a dashing flight lieutenant, lando norris. as the city endures the turmoil of the blitz, the pair find solace in smoky clubs and fleeting moments of peace. their bond deepens in the shadow of uncertainty, where every goodbye might be the last. a story of love, longing, and resilience, it captures the fragile beauty of connection in a world on the brink.

part one | part two - completed

redcoat | redcoat!lando summary: in the waning light of the american revolution, a spirited colonial shopkeeper crosses paths with lando norris, a sharp-tongued british redcoat whose loyalty to king and country begins to falter the moment their worlds collide. what begins as a clash of wit and will blossoms into a dangerous, forbidden love, hidden in shadows and silence. as the fires of rebellion burn hotter and allegiances are tested, their hearts wage a war of their own. disappearances, betrayal, and near-death draw them to the edge of heartbreak, until a desperate reunion under cover of night reminds them what they stand to lose. torn between duty and desire, loyalty and love, theirs is a romance born in war. delicate, defiant, and destined to change everything.

part one | part two - completed

[lovebugism]

hi bug! Can I request you a ditzy or shy!reader where some girl flirts with Steve in front of her maybe at Family Video? Little angsty because she feels insicure of herself? Thank you🩷

ty for requesting!! — steve doesn't realize he's being flirted with because he's so in love with you (ditzy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, 1.6k)

You color in a scribbled heart with enough vigor to break the pink crayon in your hand.

Steve always hangs your drawings in his locker in the Family Video break room, so you tend to take your art pretty seriously. ‘Cause there’s absolutely nothing humorous about the two stick figures holding hands — each of them vaguely resembling the both of you — that you’re passionately scribbling behind the front counter.

He’d watch you work your magic on a piece of lined scrap paper if he could. He’s too busy tending to a regular now. Mia, he thinks, or maybe Maia. She rents movies every week, but according to the system, she doesn’t watch a single one of them. 

“Well, what do you recommend?” she questions with a smirk on her painted lips, leaning her elbows on the counter until her chest juts out.

Steve leans slowly backward and tries not to cough at the overwhelming scent of her fruity perfume. “Uh… I don’t know,” he answers with an unenthusiastic shrug. “I usually just watch whatever.”

The girl squints her dolled-up eyes. “You don’t have a favorite movie?” 

Steve ponders the question for a moment. ‘Cause he doesn’t have one, really. All his favorite films are your favorites because he spends the majority of movie nights watching you instead.

So, at a loss of how to answer, he tells her your first choice. “The Star Wars movies are pretty alright.”

“Do you have them here?” she wonders.

Steve nods and points her in the other direction. “Yeah. In the Sci-Fi section.”

“Can you show me?” the girl questions with a hopeful glint in her pale eyes. Everything about her sparkles with mischief, like a predator hunting for prey. Stealthy, like a ninja, Steve would’ve called the approach a couple years ago. Long before he found you.

He’s more into forthright proclamations of love these days — bubblegum pink lipstick stains pressed to his cheek and handmade pictures drawn in crayon.

But, for the sake of Keith totally reaming him for not helping a customer, Steve nods and rounds the front counter. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Follow me,” he urges halfheartedly, sparing you a forlorn glance as he goes. You’re much too distracted to see it, though.

You’re too distracted to notice most things, really.

That’s why Robin’s angrier than you are about the whole thing. She exhales a big huff and stands across from you, peering over the tower of tapes there. “God, he’s so oblivious,” she groans.

Your hand freezes as you color in Steve’s vest. You glance up at her with wide eyes, heart sinking at the annoyed look on her freckled features. “Huh?”

“Steve. That girl’s been drooling over him for five minutes, and he hasn’t even realized.”

Your brows pinch. “What girl?”

“The one that’s hanging all over him,” Robin answers, nodding her head to the other side of the store. The girl in question lingers at Steve’s side, a little too close to be casual. She hangs on every word he says — which certainly can’t be a whole lot, considering he knows next to nothing about that Star Wars franchise.

“I thought she was just being nice,” you shrug.

“She was flirting with your boyfriend,” Robin corrects in a monotone. “It was disgusting. I’m pretty sure her flirt got all over my pants.”

You look back at the two across the room. Steve tenses when the pretty redhead presses her chest against his arm. For the sake of not making things totally awkward, he forces himself not to shrink away. What had seemed virtually innocuous to you now makes your stomach ache. 

“She’s so pretty…” you observe quietly to yourself. 

Robin only scoffs. “Yeah. If you’re into girls like that.”

You don’t know exactly what she means, but it makes you lean slightly forward in interest anyway. “Do you think… Do you think Steve’s into girls like that?”

“No,” Robin answers, features twisted like it’s obvious. “He’s into girls like you.”

For the first time ever, you find that slightly hard to believe. Why would Steve ever pick you over someone like her? The way she smiles is pretty. The way she laughs is pretty. Even the way she talks is pretty.

And what do you have? A couple of stupid crayon portraits?

A strange feeling sears your chest when Steve and the pretty girl walk back to the counter. He must’ve told her a joke or something ‘cause she tips back her head to laugh loudly in response. Jealous tears sting your eyes accordingly. You take your art and your box of dull crayons and scurry off to the break room.

“I can help you check out!” Robin offers, suddenly very chipper. 

The redhead’s face twists. “Oh. I thought that—”

“Steve’s needed in the breakroom, actually,” Robin tells her when the stranger’s pleading eyes flit to the boy beside her. “I can handle it from here.”

“Wait— What’s in the breakroom?” he wonders obliviously.

“Your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve blinks once. The sudden lack of your presence makes his chest ache. He stalks off to find you without another word.

The redhead, Mia or Maia or whatever, doesn’t bother to disguise the shock painting her dainty features. “Girlfriend?” she echoes, quiet with disbelief.

Robin nods and takes the tapes from her hands, knowing she’s only renting them ‘cause she thought Steve liked them. The scanner beeps as she rings them up. “Yeah. He’s kinda in love with her, turns out. It’s disgusting.”

The conversation fades the further Steve gets down the hall. He opens the door to the back room with a grating squeak. The rusted hinges screech again in protest when he swings it shut behind him. He finds you slouched over the table, vehemently scribbling with vibrantly colored crayons.

He can’t help but smile at the sight of you. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts in place of a greeting, sliding back a chair to sit across from you.

“Nothin’…” you mutter distantly.

Steve folds his arms over the tabletop and rests his chin on top of them. It bobs with every word. “Why’d you leave me, huh?”

You shrug with a faint I don’t know type of sound.

“Can I see what you’re drawing, at least?” 

He grins and reaches for you without thinking — because you always let him see. Needless to say, when flinch suddenly away from him, it scares him far more than it should. You scramble to cover the paper with your arms like you’re doing something wrong. 

“No,” you answer in a mousy voice.

A chuckle spills from Steve’s mouth. “What? Why? You always show me.”

“It’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid! I love when you draw stuff for me,” the boy insists with a lopsided smile, distantly surprised by your sheepishness. The pretty pink grin slips from his mouth at the crestfallen glint in your eye. He softens without thinking. “What’s wrong? What happened? Did— Did Robin say something?”

“No.” 

“Then what?”

You avert your eyes from his prying ones, feeling half-suffocated beneath his honeyed gaze. You start to color again with an absentminded hand, if only to have something else to look at. “You’re just…” you trail off, shifting uncomfortably in your chair. “You’re too pretty.”

He laughs before he means to. “What?”

“You’re pretty, and I don’t like that other people get to look at you,” you confess quietly, coloring in Steve’s hair with the ‘deep golden’ crayon. “It’s not fair— No one else should think you’re as beautiful as I do. I don’t like that.”

Steve props his chin on his palm and hides his grin behind his fingers. He reaches for your busy hand with his free one to get your attention. “Well, you know what?” he starts when your eyes flit up to his. “You’re the only one I want looking at me. So what everyone else thinks doesn’t really matter.”

“It is when they’re drooling all over you,” you answer with a scrunched nose.

Steve can’t help but scoff out a laugh. Those words have Robin Buckley written all over them. 

“Last I heard, Rob was giving that girl what for, so… you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he tells you, both to soothe the misplaced jealousy and to make you smile. He thinks it only half works. “Can I tell you a secret?”

You perk up at that. Steve grins and leans in close like he’s about to confess something serious. His dark eyes twinkle with mischief. 

“I’m so stupid in love with you that I forget other girls exist sometimes,” he murmurs in true secret-spilling fashion. “And when they’re… drooling all over me? I don’t even see it. ‘Cause all I’m thinking about is how I have my own girl back home. And that I’d much rather have her drooling on me.”

“…Am I the girl?” you press in a tiny voice, just to be sure.

“Yes, baby, I’m talking about you,” Steve chuckles. “You should know that— You’rethe one drooling on my pillow every morning.”

Your nose scrunches sheepishly. “You’ve said that word too many times… It doesn’t sound real anymore.”

“What’s that called again?”

“Semantic satiation,” you answer without missing a beat.

“Well, now I’m gonna tell you I love you ’til you’re semantically satiated,” the boy teases with a knowing squint in his eyes. “‘Cause I love you.”

“Steve.”

“I love you.”

“Stop,” you say, sterner now, though your gaze still glimmers with something soft. Your eyes follow his form when he rises from the table, shifting the short distance to sit in the chair closest to you. “Steve, stop—”

“I love you,” he repeats, anyway, taking you into his arms and smacking a dramatic kiss to your warm cheek. Between each innocuous peck, he mumbles, “I love you— I love you— I love you—”

Steve doesn’t stop kissing you until he hears you giggling again. The pretty sound brightens the dull breakroom. And all he can think about is what a lucky schmuck he is. To get to kiss you and make you laugh forever.

[llxferim]

-"Choose" part 1

a/n: i had so much fun writing this oml, my wandanat obsession is getting out of hand. I'll post another fic today AND tomorrow :))

Part 2

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When both Wanda and Natasha confess their feelings for you, you're torn between them. To make a choice, you decide to take each of them on a date. But it just leaves you even more uncertain than before. (Maybe part 1?)

Warnings: smut, 18+, no yn used, Wanda and nat are a tease, eventual smut, smut with plot. teasing, receiving oral (reader). fem!reader, flirting.

Word count: 5.6k (it's a big one so buckle up)

"Both of them?" Kate asks, her eyes widening in surprise as she steadies her aim with the bow. The target looms in the distance, a stark contrast against the backdrop of the training room. "Seriously? You've got two Avengers interested in you?"

She hands the bow back to you, the weight of it bringing you crashing back to reality. Your mind is still reeling, trying to process everything that happened. It's been a week of absolute chaos-Wanda's unexpected confession adds another layer to the situation that began when Natasha, asked you out right before a mission. A few days went by and both of them were acting as if nothing happened, waiting for your response.

You can still picture Nat’s casual shrug before she leaped out the window as if confessing to someone and then diving into danger was just another Tuesday for her.

"I have no idea what to do," you admit.

You draw back the bowstring, feeling the tension build in your muscles. The arrow flies, hitting the target with a satisfying thud that echoes through the room. The sound mirrors the way your heart has been pounding ever since this whole situation began.

"Here you are," Kate says, her tone a blend of amusement and disbelief, "taking down supervillains, and saving the world- regularly might I add—, but two incredibly attractive, badass women liking you, is what you're worried about?" There's a teasing to her voice.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache forming as you sink back into your chair. The weight of the situation settles on your shoulders. "I know!" you exclaim, the words coming out in a rush. "It's ridiculous. I mean, I'm just... me. I never expected any of this. Not Natasha, not Wanda, not any of it."

"Listen," Kate says before She nocks another arrow, her movements fluid. The arrow whistles through the air, striking the target dead center before she retracts the bow with a satisfied smirk. "What if you just... see how both of them are on a date? You know, get to know them outside of all the world-saving and villain-fighting?"

"Like, go out with both of them?" you ask, your brow furrowing as you give her a skeptical look. "I don't want to two-time them, Kate. They deserve better than that." "No, no, " Kate shakes her head. "I'm not saying that. Just go on a single date with them, then decide." She shrugs, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes.

You stare at her for a long moment, letting the idea sink in. It's outrageous, just simply crazy, and yet... "That's... a terrible idea," you finally admit, heaving a deep sigh as you push yourself up from your chair. Your muscles protest, reminding you of the intense training session you've just been through.

"Rude!" Kate exclaims. "Hey, where are you going?" she calls out as you start to walk away, her voice a mix of curiosity and surprise.

"To go try your stupid idea," you mutter, making sure your voice is just loud enough for her to hear. Which earns you laughter from her. You can't help but wonder what you're getting yourself into.

**

A few days later, still somewhat in disbelief, you found yourself seated across from Wanda at a cozy café.

Just days ago, she had been hurling bad guys around with mere flicks of her fingers. Now, here she sat, looking utterly charming as she sipped coffee from a strawberry-shaped mug.

Cute.

You catch yourself stealing glances at her over the top of your menu. Wanda's striking scarlet hair falls loosely around her face, soft strands brushing against her cheeks, hiding those captivating green eyes, the ones that you wish were on you right now. You find yourself wanting to reach out, to gently tuck her strands back to reveal her face completely.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, Wanda's gaze flicks upward, locking onto yours. "Enjoying the view, darling?" she teases, her voice low and playful, with just a hint of her Sokovian accent.

Your heart rate instantly kicks up a notch, and you can feel warmth blooming across your cheeks. "what? Can I not admire my date?" you reply, aiming for a light tone but hearing the slight tremor in your voice.

"didn't say that" she responds, a sultry smile playing on her lips as she leans in slightly. The movement is subtle, but it closes the distance between you just enough to make your pulse quicken. "Admire as much as you want, darling. I assure you, I'm not going anywhere." The air between you seems to thicken, charged with an electric tension that makes you acutely aware of every small movement, every shared glance. You can't help but wonder how the evening might progress, how close you might find yourselves as the night wears on.

In an attempt to steady yourself, you take a long sip of your drink. The warmth of the coffee does little to calm the flutter in your stomach or slow your racing thoughts. "So," you begin, searching for a topic to keep the conversation flowing "what's been your favorite mission lately? Fury’s been giving us so many"

Wanda's lips curl into a smirk, her eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and something deeper, more intense. "Honestly?" she replies, her tone carrying a playful challenge. "I'd have to say it was the one where I got to swoop in and save your ass." You can't help but chuckle, "Oh, come on. I didn't need saving," you protest lightly. "I was handling it perfectly fine."

"Sure you were," Wanda laughs. Her entire face lights up with the smile, and you find it impossible to look away. "But I'm glad I could step in. It gave me an excuse to play the hero for you."

Almost unconsciously, you lean closer, drawn in by the magnetic pull between you. "What if." you begin, your voice dropping to a near-whisper, "I told you I rather like the idea of you swooping in to save me more often?"

Wanda's expression shifts subtly, her gaze dropping to your lips for a fleeting moment before meeting your eyes again. The look she gives you is charged with meaning. "I could arrange that," she murmurs, her voice taking on a softer, more intimate tone.

The world around you seems to fade into the background, the moment stretching out between you. The usual bustle of the cafe continues, but it feels distant and muted. All you can focus on is Wanda's way the soft lighting plays across her features, the subtle scent of her perfume, and the warmth radiating from her presence. Every tiny detail draws you in deeper.

"so" you suggest, "should we plan our next mission together?" unable to hide the grin forming on your lips.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, the playful glimmer returning. "I like the sound of that." she says with a little smirk "Just us, no distractions" Your heart rate raises at her words "Just don't be surprised if I need saving again" you tease back.

Wanda leans in closer, the distance between you shrinking to almost nothing. Her voice is barely above a whisper when she replies, "I wouldn't dream of it, darling."

**

You and Wanda walked back to Stark Tower as the night fell. Despite Fury's announcement about tomorrow, and how he would personally murder whoever was late to the meeting— Wanda was in no rush. She'd insisted on ice cream, so you both enjoyed the treat while strolling towards the building.

after arriving at the tower, you and Wanda finally reach the floor your room was on, “you sure you can find your way?” Wanda said playful smile on her lips.

“with a guide like you? I’d get lost on purpose” you respond with a smirk, matching her playful tone. Her eyes sparkle a little at that, looking you up and down.

Wanda laughed softly, pulling you back into the elevator and pressing the button for her floor.

“flattery won’t get you everywhere, you know” she chuckles slightly as she steps out of the elevator and leads the way while clutching your hand in hers.

“I mean—” you tease as if you weren’t the one getting flutters in your stomach after touching her hand “—it helps” You give her a slight smirk.

She stops in front of a door, her door. And leans against the wall next to it.

“so what’s your plan? Charm your way through the tower?” she raised an eyebrow, her lingering tone flowing through the empty hallway.

“only to the rooms that matter,” you say, taking a deep breath, “oh yeah?” she said in amusement “What rooms would that be?” she teased. She knew what you meant, but she loved seeing you get all flustered because of her.

“yours is definitely on the list,” you say, closing whatever distance was left between you and her. “oh so there’s a list?” she chuckled in amusement. You couldn’t help but linger your eyes on her lips, you wanted to kiss her so badly.

You look back up, locking eyes with her, and you unconsciously lean forward, as if your body had a mind of its own. Wanda does the same, and your lips finally touch. Your hand slides up in her hair, her hands cup your face and you let out a relief sigh, you were starving for her.

You lean into the kiss, wanting more and more. But Wanda pulled away, You looked at her with a puzzled expression but before you could protest she covered your mouth with her hand and used the other to open the door.

You stumble into the room as Wanda locks the door “You’re such a mess for me” she teases as her lips finally reunite with yours, the lips  which you still couldn’t get enough of. “you know,” she breathes, pulling away from the kiss and locking her eyes with you, “I could read your mind the whole date, right?”

You look at her yet again with a frustrated expression, “What—“ you protest playfully “So you were just playing with me the whole time?” you let out a breath.

“more like teasing you” she chuckles lightly, the soft voice bringing your butterflies back. “you’re an asshole” you scoff, “you know you love me” she responds before leading you to the bedroom.

You sit down on the end of the bed, as Wanda crawls on top of you, not breaking the kiss. You feel hands tugging your shirt upwards, next thing you know it is on the floor along with your Bra.

You let out a frustrated sigh as Wanda pulls away once more. “You need to stop doing that,” She shoots you a teasing smirk and replies innocently, “but I like teasing you”

“shut up” you mumble out in a chuckle as she places kisses along your neck, getting lower. You feel hands sliding down your jeans, “you’re so wet for me, Darling—“ Wanda taunts, looking down at you in amusement, “and I haven’t even done anything yet”

Her hands rub over the soft fabric of your panties, gaining a moan from you which you immediately bite down. “don’t” she says, “I want to hear your voice” she whispers as she continues rubbing, while she sloppily kisses you, the muffled moans echoing in the room.

She takes off your pants, landing kisses down the way to your lower stomach, making you squirm. You try to close your thighs in an attempt to calm your throbbing but Wanda keeps them open.

“Keep your legs open for me, darling” she whispers, her kisses finally reaching your pussy. Causing you to squirm once again, feeling the vibration of her talking through your whole body.

“Wanda~” you moan in desperation. She wasted no time and took your panties off, leaving your pussy bare.

Just when you thought she was finished teasing you, her soft voice broke through the tension. “Say what you want me to do,” she murmured, a playful glint in her eyes.

“What—?” you stammered, caught off guard. The air was thick with anticipation. “tell me what you want me to do to you,” she pressed, her tone dripping with seduction. You could feel your heart racing, each word hanging in the air.

“fuck- just fuck me” Right after you finish the sentence, you feel two fingers shoved in your cunt. You let out a loud moan, caught completely off guard “fucking hell” You mutter out shaking, you could feel Wanda’s tongue making circles around your clit, sucking at it, eating you up, making you arch your back at the feeling.

You almost screamed in pleasure when she inserted the third finger. Your insides clenching around her fingers when she starts hitting the spot. Her tongue not leaving your clit.

Your legs shuddered at the feeling of her tongue against your heat. It almost made you lose consciousness right there due to your neediness.

You were overstimulated, and could barely make up any thoughts in your head. All you could do was moan at the pleasure that was getting too much to bear.

You were so close to cumming, “I’m gonna~” You close your eyes as you groan before Wanda pulled away, leaving you empty, depraved, and wanting more. “Wanda-?” you open your eyes just to see her wiping her lips with her tongue with a smirk, looking at you in amusement. “you’re so cute,” she says, “I was just about to finish” you reply in frustration, out of breath.

She chuckles as her lips reach yours, “but then I wouldn’t get to see your cute, frustrated face” she whispers as she kisses you before you can say anything else. You feel her knee press up against your pussy, making you whimper. Your hands go through her hair pulling her down, depraved for more. Her hand finally falls back down to your pulsating clit, making you flinch at the touch.

It just took a couple of minutes before you were going to cum again, you covered your face out of overstimulation, but that didn’t last long. “that won’t do..” you heard before feeling your hands being tugged, revealing your blushed face. “I want to see your face, darling, don’t hide from me” you hear Wanda’s voice, making you even more close to finishing. “I’m gonna~” you manage to stutter out, “I know, I know” Wanda shushes you, her fingers still rubbing your clit, faster and rougher, while her other fingers enter your cunt.

You let out a whimper before finally cumming, soaking her fingers completely. She slowly pulls them out, bringing them up to her mouth before licking the juice clean.

**

After you two settled into bed, cuddling closely, you felt her hands wrap around your waist. Honestly, you’d never seen her this clingy before, and it made you want to stay in bed with her forever. But Fury, for some reason, thought it was a good idea to schedule a meeting at 8 AM, so you reluctantly got up to prepare to go to sleep.

You leaned down to give her a soft kiss before sitting up. “I’m going to take a shower,” you said, but as you started to move, you felt her tugging you back.

“Why?” she asked, her tone playful.

“To clean up…?” you replied, confused.

“But then you’ll just get dirty again,” she countered, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“What do you mean?” you questioned, but before you could process her words, she was on top of you again. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” she teased, her Sokovian accent shining through.

“We can’t—” you stammered, your face burning. “We have a meeting tomorrow—”

“It’s 3 AM,” she said, glancing at the clock before locking her gaze back on yours, eyes sparkling with mischief. “We have time for a few more rounds,” she declared, a smirk dancing on her lips.

You could already feel how soaked your pussy was.

For her.

“A few more..?”

**

Needless to say, you were both late to the meeting, and Fury was not happy. He lectured you both for an hour, at one point you just zoned out, completely ignoring him.

As a ‘punishment,’ he put you on paperwork duty, with Nat. You noticed her reaction when you and Wanda walked in late, her eyes didn’t leave yours for a second, not paying any mind to the meeting. Which is why Fury assigned her with you.

Now, as you sat buried under an avalanche of paperwork, Nat was doing very little to help. Instead, she simply sat across from you, her intense green eyes fixed on your every move as you sorted through the endless files.

Frustration boiled over, and you slammed the file you were holding on the desk. “Nat, you’re seriously freaking me out. Stop staring and come help!” you exclaimed, spinning your chair to face her.

“Why did you two come in late, together?” she shot back, her eyes narrowing as she waited for an answer.

You knew you couldn’t lie to her, so you didn’t even try. “We.. went out yesterday…” you muttered, the words heavy in the air. Nat raised her eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. “Still doesn’t answer my question.”

“I may have stayed over at her place,” you confessed, taking a deep breath as you felt the tension between you two thicken. “Now—can you come help me?”

Nat’s gaze didn’t waver, a mix of frustration and something else swirling in her expression. “You think that’s enough to make me help?” she challenged, a smirk teasing at the corners of her lips.

“Are you really going to make this harder?” you replied, heart racing under her scrutiny.

“Maybe I want to see just how far you’re willing to go,” she said, leaning back in her chair, a provocative glint in her eyes.

“Are you seriously going to make me beg?” you frown, and that earns you a faint smile from her.

“Maybe I will,” Nat replies, crossing her arms, a teasing glint in her eye.

“Please,” you say, putting on your best pleading expression. Her eyes light up with mischief.

“Hmmm… again,” she replies with a smirk, clearly enjoying this.

“Seriously?” you ask, exasperation creeping into your voice, but she just stays put, unwavering. With a resigned sigh, you try again. “Please, Tash.”

“Fine,” she finally relents, sitting up with a satisfied smirk. She walks towards you, the tension in the air thickening as she closes the distance between you.

“Now, let’s see what you’ve got,” she says, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the paperwork. You can feel her warmth radiating off her, sending a shiver down your spine. “You really thought you could handle this without me?”

“Well, I could have. Faster than you I’m sure, but you were distracting me” you respond with a playful scoff before sinking back into your chair.

You let out a small gasp when you feel Nat turning your chair around to face her. She is leaning over you, her hands on the armrest. With her hair cascading down her shoulders, she leaned closer. “was that a challenge?” she raised an eyebrow, her breath close to your ear.

“what are you suggesting” you ask, daring to meet her gaze. “let’s say i have an idea to make things.. more interesting” her voice full of mischief. “whoever has the least amount of paperwork left, until— let’s say” she glances at her watch, “5pm, wins.” she adds, “if you win, i’ll finish the rest of our paperwork” she says with a smirk.

“What if you win?” you ask, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

Natasha leans back slightly, a playful glint still in her eyes. “If I win, you go on a date with me, and— ofcourse finish the rest of the paperwork.”

Her boldness catches you off guard, but, honestly, what else were you expecting from her? you were planning to go on a date with her anyways.

“Fine, that seems fair,” you reply, though you quickly add, “but no distracting each other and no cheating!”

She shoots you a mischievous grin “no promises” she says, before heading back to her desk, flipping open the first file.

You spin your chair around, heart racing, and do the same, the challenge igniting a competitive spark between you.

**

the clock was ticking, it was 4:55, Nat had a little under 10 files left, and you were already on your last one. you glance over at her, but she seemed calm, which made you even more nervous than you already were.

you closed the last file with a satisfied grin, “i win, there’s only two minutes left. give up already tash” you say with a grin, but before you can even lean back in your chair the door opens and Fury’s assistant comes in with a handful of more paperwork, placing it on your desk, “Mr.Fury told me that he needs these done by tomorrow morning.” she says, looking at you.

**

You were completely dumbfounded. “What—no,” you stammer, but the assistant had already slipped out the door. Natasha stood up from her chair, that infuriating smirk dancing on her lips as she leaned casually against your desk. “What were you saying, love?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. your ears flushed, hearing her call you ‘love’ was doing something to you.

You glanced at the clock. 5 PM.

“fuck me..” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

“That’s the plan,” you hear her say, a satisfied chuckle escaping her.

“You did this, didn’t you?” you ask, narrowing your gaze as you look up at her.

“Me? I would never!” she retorts, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she pretends to be offended.

“Not fair, Tash. So not fair,” you frown, already accepting your defeat.

**

Before you could get any more work in, Natasha had already dragged you away after convincing you, that you would finish them later tonight, but something told you you wouldn’t be getting any work done.

You were sitting in her car, you weren’t sure where Nat would take you out on a first date. In a restaurant? that’s just not her, at least not on the first date. The Movies? that would be too boring.

“We’re here, love” her voice pulls you right out of your thoughts, the word love leaving you red. “why do you keep calling me love?” you ask, opening the car door. “I like how you get flushed everytime” she smirks in amusement.

You roll your eyes, “where are we?” you finally ask, looking around. “heard you liked shooting” she says with a smile as she leads you in a door, her hand on your waist.

You step into a vibrant field, where a selection of paintball markers is laid out on a workbench, accompanied by a pile of paintballs nearby.

Turning back to Natasha, practically bouncing with excitement, you exclaim, “No way!” A playful grin spreads across your face as you tease, “Ooh, you’re so done!” With that, you quickly grab one of the markers and load it with a handful of paintballs.

Natasha chuckles, her smile brightening as she watches you. “You sure about that, love?” she asks, picking up her own marker and some paintballs.

“Oh, I’m absolutely sure! You’ll pay for cheating your way through this date, Tash.” An assistant offers you body armor, but you wave it off. “Ooh, playing tough?” Natasha taunts, mirroring your refusal.

The guy behind the counter clears his throat. “Alright, it’s just the two of you ladies. The rules are simple: no head shots, one shot is enough to win, but feel free to keep playing as long as you like. Stay in bounds, and most importantly, have fun!” His explanation fades into the background as you find yourself captivated by Natasha—her hair tied back, that mischievous grin on her face, the very one you swore you disliked.

“—when I start counting, run and hide. On the count of three, the game begins,” he continues, snapping you back to reality.

“One!” You and Natasha dart in opposite directions.

“Two!” You quickly hide behind a wooden wall.

“And three!” The game starts.

In an instant, you’re on the move, quietly circling around to the side where Natasha ran. This is exactly what you thought a date with Nat was going to be.

**

After playing for a while, Natasha won, but you managed to land few shots as well. By the time you were done, the darkness had settled around you, and you were both covered in paint, laughter echoing in the night as you walked back to her car.

“I was so close to winning, though!” you exclaim, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Sure you were,” Nat chuckles, opening the car door for you before sliding in beside you.

“No, but really! You just snuck up on me out of nowhere. Before that, I had the upper hand,” you insist, crossing your arms and turning to face her, a playful challenge in your eyes.

“Hmm,” she hums, locking her gaze onto yours, her expression turning serious as the air thickens with unspoken tension.

Then, she leans in, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating from her, your heart racing in anticipation. Just as you think she’s about to kiss you, she pulls away with a teasing smirk, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“Not fair, Tash,” you say, trying to mask your disappointment, but the spark between you only intensifies.

Halfway through the car ride, it hits you. “Shit…” you sigh, sinking back into your seat. “I’ve got paperwork to finish.” The thought of working feels exhausting, especially after the fun you just had.

“I’ll help you out, love,” Nat offers, her voice soft and inviting. “It’s my fault you ended up with that much anyway.” She giggles, and the sound brings an involuntary smile to your lips.

God, you wanted to kiss her so badly. You quickly glance in her direction, meeting her gaze that sends your heart racing. First Wanda, now Natasha? Taking both of them out was supposed to help you figure things out, but instead, it only made everything more complicated.

“Really, you don’t have to,” you say, trying to sound casual, but the tension in the air hangs thick between you.

“Oh, but I want to,” she replies, her gaze steady and intent. The way she looks at you makes it hard to focus on anything else. It’s a challenge, an invitation.

You want to push her away and avoid the feelings, but instead, you find yourself leaning in slightly, drawn to her warmth. “You make it hard to concentrate,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” she replies, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “I like it that way.”

The tension simmers between you, leaving you both caught in a moment that feels electric, as if one wrong move could change everything.

**

You went back up to an empty office, everyone had clocked out, but you and Nat had to sit here and work.

You sigh as you plop down on your seat, “you know, we could have much more fun than just work, you know” she says, slowly walking towards you, turning around your chair, “you really like doing that, don’t you?” you chuckle, keeping your eyes locked on to hers.

“what kind of fun are we talking about, exactly?” you ask. of course you knew what she meant, but you wanted her to say it. you feel your pussy getting wetter and wetter, desperate for attention, throbbing for her.

“you know what i mean” she says, not breaking eye contact. “say it”

“oh, you don’t want to play that game, Love. trust me” she says in amusement. her calling you love was all you needed before you couldn’t hold it in anymore, you squeezed your legs shut, hoping to satisfy the urge down there.

Natasha notices that and forces your legs open with her knee. you look down at her knee before you feel a hand on your chin, making you look back up, “eyes on me, Love” she demands.

You feel your throbbing pussy, all you wanted to do was reach your hand down and— before you could, Nat grabbed both of your hands, gently, before grabbing a rope from a drawer and tying them behind your back.

Her knee going right back to keeping your legs open. “Nat. c’mon, please” you groan out, looking down at your now tied up hands—“nuh-uh, i said eyes on me.” You immediately look back at her.

that just made you even more wet, you could feel how soaked your panties were getting. you just wanted her—no, needed her to touch you. to completely destroy you.

“please~ just-“ you whimper out,

“look how much of a mess you are.” she looked at you in amusement, sliding her hand from your chest, down to your pants, “all for me.”

She kneels and pulls down your pants, revealing your completely soaked panties, before throwing them on the floor along with your pants.

“if you wanted me this badly, you should have told me, Love” she says, spreading your lips apart, causing a moan to escape your lips. “just stop- teasing, Tash” you breathe out.

“Where’s the fun in that, though?” she asks in the most innocent voice possible. as if she’s not in between your legs right now.

her tongue rubbing over your sore clit, then sliding down and into your cunt. you whimper as she increases the speed.

then she suddenly picks you up from the chair, and sits you down on the desk. her lips now on yours, sloppily kissing you before sliding back down, landing kisses along the way, before reaching your cunt once again.

but this time she doesn’t wait. she starts eating you out right away. her index and middle finger rubbing over your clit. “fuck.. oh fuck” you moan, not able to hold back anymore.

“Nat- slow~ah slow down” you finally stammer out. “at-at least untie my hands” you say, out of breath. it’s as if she’s lost, she doesn’t respond to anything. It doesn’t take long before you get the sensation, “i’m~ i’m gonna cum” you whimper out, as Natasha speeds up, the room filled up with your moans, you were hoping nobody else was staying overtime right now.

You groan out of pleasure, as you finally cum.

Nat gets up with a satisfied look. “Now, untie me, please” you point at your hands with your head, “i gotta finish this work”

“Oh, we’re nowhere near done, love,” she says, gently caressing your face.

“What? Natasha—no,” you stammer, still feeling a bit overstimulated and confused by the moment.

“but sure, i’ll untie you” she says completely ignoring you, as she grabs scissors and cuts the rope open. “Nat, i have way too much work due tomorrow morning, we really can’t” you start explaining, and attempt to jump down from the table, but she catches you and sits you back down.

“we have time for one more round” Her lips find their way to yours, that was all you needed, all your pussy needed to become even more desperate for Natasha.

“fine, make it quick” you moan out through the kiss, “oh, i don’t do quick, Love” she smirks, before pulling away. she opens the bottom drawer of your table, and pulls out something very familiar to you, a Purple vibrator. “what- how’d you even know that was there-?” you ask covering your face with your hands out of embarrassment.

“you really think i wouldn’t notice?” she chuckled. “my desk is right in-front of yours”

“let’s see how well this actually works” she smirked and looked at you before turning the Vibrator on, immediately putting it on your Clit, causing you to flinch. “fucking hell..” you groan out.

she grabs you by the chin and pulls you into a kiss, while she slowly turns up the amplitude, testing how long you’d last without breaking the kiss.

Soon after you pull away, taking a deep breath. “seems to be working well” she states, “what do you think, love?” she asks before turning up the amplitude even more, she knew what she was doing, she enjoyed seeing you be a mess, just for her.

you whimper out in pleasure, unable to answer her. “i asked you a question, it’s not polite to ignore me, love” she said before turning the vibrator off. you look up in frustration, “god you really enjoy doing that, don’t you?”

“i asked a question” she responded with a smirk. “it works wonders, now please turn it back on” you say it in a hurry,

"Since you asked so nicely," she said, her voice low and inviting as she leaned closer, her breath warm against your skin.

As she closed the distance, her lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, like a feather grazing your skin. The gentle touch sent a shiver down your spine, then she turned more rough and out of nowhere, without a warning she turns the vibrator to the highest amplitude. making you scream both out of pleasure and surprise.

it didn’t take long for you to cum after that, she knew exactly which parts she needed to touch to make you feel good.

it was 2am after you finished. she cleaned you up, softly rubbing wipes over the places she left hickeys. giving you soft kisses along the way, as if she didn’t just make you levitate up to heaven out of pleasure.

you sat down to finish the work, but you fell asleep, not even the two cups of coffee you chugged were any help at all.

Nat carried you to your room and finished the rest of the paperwork herself.

[honeydippedfiction]

I loved your f1 drivers knowing about protective styles, can we get something like that with Joe?

main navigation | reqs | table of contents | F1 Version

Joe Burrow x black!femreader

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The afternoon had slipped into one of those gray, whisper-quiet moments that seemed to press a stillness into everything. Rain tapped softly against the windows of the condo, smearing the skyline into a watercolor blur. Inside, the living room was warm and cocooned in that kind of quiet that comes when two people know how to exist in the same space without needing to fill the silence.

A muted football game from earlier still flickered on the television, long forgotten. A lavender and sage candle flickered low on the coffee table, its scent curling in lazy spirals through the room. Joe was stretched out at one end of the couch in black sweats and a fitted long-sleeve tee, legs slightly splayed, his tablet balanced against one knee as he watched game film through a single earbud. His eyes tracked across the screen with quiet intensity, fingers occasionally swiping or pausing to scribble something with the stylus.

At the other end of the couch, she sat nestled into a throw blanket, legs tucked beneath her, phone cradled in one hand. Her screen glowed with images — close-ups of box braids, boho knotless styles with curly tendrils, marley twists, braided bobs, stitch feed-ins with clean parts, honey blondes, burgundy reds, and ombré browns. Every few seconds, she'd let out a tiny sigh. Not quite loud enough to be a cry for help, but just loud enough to register.

Joe didn’t react the first or second time. He’d been watching film long enough to know when to let a few plays run before making a move. But after the third sigh — this one slightly longer and tinged with frustration — he pulled his earbud out and glanced over.

“You okay, babe?” he asked, voice low and casual, like he already half-knew the answer.

She didn’t look up from her phone. “Mhm.”

“You sure? That sounded like a ‘these-Pinterest-girls-are-lying-to-me’ kind of sigh.”

That got a small laugh from her, barely a puff of air through her nose.

“I’m just…” She turned the screen toward him, briefly flashing a grid of photos. “My appointment’s on Thursday, and I still don’t know what I want. Every style looks good until I imagine sitting in the chair for six hours and ending up hating it.”

He nodded, lips twitching with amusement. “You’ve said that before.”

“It’s a commitment! And I can’t be walking around for three weeks looking like someone’s tired cousin.”

Joe set the tablet down for a second, leaning his elbows on his knees. He studied her for a moment, eyes scanning the open tabs of hairstyles she had on her phone, then said, without hesitation, “Why don’t you do goddess braids again? The ones you had in August — with the cinnamon brown? You said that color mix was fire on you.”

There was a beat of silence.

Her head snapped toward him like she hadn’t heard him right. “What?”

He repeated it, slower this time, like maybe he’d just asked her to name every route in a playbook. “Goddess braids. Cinnamon brown. You know — the one that’s, like… color 30 mixed with a little 33? You said it matched your skin tone better than the copper you tried last spring.”

She blinked. Then blinked again.

“Joe…” she said slowly, brows knitting together in both awe and suspicion. “How do you know that? How do you know exactly what I was wearing and the color code?”

“I just remember stuff.”

“Mmhmm.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is that so?”

He gave a lazy shrug, leaning back again, the picture of innocence. “Yeah. You liked that style. You said it made your face look — what was the word? Snatched? And I liked it too. You looked good.”

She wasn’t smiling. Not yet. She tilted her head, gaze sharp now. “That’s weirdly specific. So you just remembered the name of the braids and the color?”

“Yes,” he said, drawing out the word like it should’ve been obvious.

She gave him a long, pointed side-eye. “Must be the sidechicks in your DMs, huh? You out here consulting on protective styles behind my back?”

Joe froze for half a second, then let out a laugh, short and incredulous. “Sidechicks?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “I mean… knowing the difference between color 30 and 33? That sounds like someone’s been in the chat rooms.”

He clutched his chest in mock betrayal. “Wow. So that’s what we’re doing now?”

She kept a straight face, lips twitching. “Just saying, it’s giving… secret HairTok account.”

Joe chuckled and leaned toward her again, resting one arm along the back of the couch behind her head. “Sweetheart, no one in my DMs is asking me for hair advice. You think women are sliding in talking about braid patterns?”

“I don’t know what women are sliding in talking about. But clearly somebody taught you about color blends.”

“You did!” he shot back. “Babe — you were up until, like, 1 a.m. watching hair tutorials last month, remember? You had that one lady on full blast, talking about pre-stretched hair and mousse application.”

“Oh my God,” she laughed, covering her face. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. And I was trying to sleep, but all I heard was, ‘Make sure to wrap your ends before dipping!’” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

She burst out laughing and shoved his shoulder. “Stop it.”

“I had to learn,” he said, grinning, pulling her closer under his arm. “It was either that or be confused every time you started talking about textures and curl patterns. You teach me football stuff sometimes — I’m just trying to keep up.”

She gave him a mock-suspicious look, but the warmth in her eyes had softened. “Okay, fine. Maybe you do pay attention.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Always.”

She turned her phone back toward herself, scrolling up until she found the style he’d mentioned. Goddess braids, waist-length, curled ends, and yes — cinnamon brown, laced with subtle highlights. She paused.

“You really think I should go with this again?”

“I do. You looked good. You felt good. That’s what matters.”

She glanced back at him, her smile slower this time, thoughtful. “You know I’m telling my stylist you picked this one, right?”

“As long as I get credit for the assist.”

“You’re still not off the hook for the sidechick accusation.”

Joe smirked and picked his tablet back up. “I’ll take the flag. Worth it.”

She nestled closer under his arm, letting her head rest on his shoulder as the candle flickered low beside them and the rain softened against the glass. For a while, they didn’t say anything else.

Her phone screen dimmed, but the photo stayed open — cinnamon goddess braids, just like he’d said.

Maybe he really was paying attention, after all.

¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø,¸

The salon buzzed with the familiar energy of a Thursday afternoon — blow dryers whirring, Afrobeats humming from a speaker near the front, the occasional burst of laughter or the snap of a stylist’s gloves. The air smelled of peppermint oil, setting mousse, and the sweet burn of flat irons somewhere in the back.

She sat in her usual stylist’s chair, fingers dancing across the hem of the salon cape draped over her lap. Even though she’d settled on the style days ago — or rather, Joe had — a familiar flutter of uncertainty bubbled beneath her ribs. Would the color pop the same way? Would the curls hold? Was it giving what it needed to give?

“You brought the hair, right?” her stylist asked, glancing at her through the mirror with a teasing smirk.

“Got it right here,” she said, lifting the bag beside her. “Color 30, with a little 33.”

“Oooh, cinnamon brown today?” Her stylist raised a brow, approving. “A fall favorite.”

“Apparently,” she said, half-laughing, “my boyfriend requested it.”

The stylist’s head snapped up with a playful grin. “He picked it? Girl, since when do men know the difference between a 1B and a 4?”

“Exactly! That’s what I said. He was just like, ‘Do the goddess braids again — the cinnamon ones.’ Like it was nothing.”

“I know that’s right,” her stylist said, chuckling as she started parting out her hair. “You better keep that one. He might be the chosen one.”

As the braids began to take shape — long, neat rows weaving down her back with soft curled ends trailing at the bottom — she relaxed into the rhythm of it all. The tug of sections, the cool mist of setting spray, the hum of easy salon chatter. Three hours in, she opened her camera and checked the mirror on her screen. The color shimmered like honey dipped in cinnamon — warm, rich, and smooth against her skin.

Joe had been right.

Of course he had.

¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø,¸

By the time she left, the city had cooled into the gold-blue haze of early evening. She stepped into the condo an hour later with her hoodie up, keys jingling in her hand and her edges freshly laid under a silk scarf. She was half-hoping to sneak in unnoticed, maybe let the big reveal wait until she could shower and wrap the ends.

No such luck.

Joe was already in the kitchen, barefoot in sweats and a gray T-shirt, tossing popcorn into a bowl. The game film was off for once — in its place, ESPN hummed quietly from the mounted TV in the living room. He glanced up as she walked in.

“Hey, honey.”

“Hey,” she said, nonchalant, kicking her sneakers off by the door and padding in on quiet feet.

Joe squinted a little as she walked past. “You got it done?”

“Mmhm,” she said, casual.

“You gonna show me?”

She paused, then gave a slow smile over her shoulder. “Why, Mr. Cinnamon Brown, you feeling confident?”

He chuckled. “I just want to see if my vision came to life.”

“Your vision, huh?”

“Absolutely. I curated this look.”

With a laugh, she pulled the hoodie back slowly and unwound the silk scarf with a slight flourish. The goddess braids spilled down her shoulders in full reveal — waist-length, curled ends bouncing slightly with movement, and that warm cinnamon hue catching the soft overhead lighting just right.

Joe froze.

Then let out a low whistle.

“Damn.”

She smirked, turning slightly so he could see the full 360. “You did good, huh?”

“No, you did good. I just made the assist. This is…” He trailed off, coming closer, reaching out to gently finger one of the braids. “Baby, this color is insane on you. Like — not to sound dramatic — but this might be top-tier level.”

She laughed, pretending to fan herself. “I mean, it is giving."

“It’s giving everything.” Joe tilted his head, still visibly impressed. “You walking into the stadium like this Sunday, or...?”

“Please,” she laughed. “You want me to outshine you on your own field?”

He leaned in, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Always.”

They stood there for a moment, his fingers still lightly grazing her braids, her smile quiet and content.

“You know,” she murmured, resting a hand on his chest, “I really thought you were cheating for a second. When you knew the hair code.”

Joe grinned. “Told you — I listen. And I love you in every version of you, but this one?” He gave a dramatic nod of approval. “Yeah. This one’s special.”

She leaned in, lips brushing his jaw. “Well… lucky for you, this one’s staying around for a while.”

“And lucky for you,” he said, sliding his arms around her waist, “I’ve got a lot of free time tonight to admire it.”

She laughed as he pulled her close, the popcorn now completely forgotten.

In the background, ESPN droned on about passing yards and defensive lines, but none of that mattered. Not here, not in their little pocket of quiet — where cinnamon braids and side-eyes had given way to warmth, laughter, and the kind of love that noticed every little detail.

[wandascosmic]

typical tuesday night (10)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part ten of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 1796

tags: swearing, mostly just fun, one-sided pining as usual, sam being insane as usual, wanda and y/n best friendship, y/n may or may not making moves/internally screaming, they're very very cute

taglist: @reginassweetheart @rroyale-109 @marvel-posts @sheriffhaughtearp

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

“Okay, she had done a background check on me,” Bruce says. “She had it printed out.”

“No way,” you say.

“Yeah,” Bruce nods. “And she was asking me stuff line by line while we were having dinner.”

“That’s unbelievable,” you answer as everyone laughs in agreement.

Suddenly, Wanda walks into the kitchen holding a mug of tea, smiling as she walks over to stand next to you.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“Oh, we’re doing worst first dates,” you answer with a smile.

“Oh my god, I win,” Wanda says, eyes widened.

“What?” you laugh.

“Okay,” Wanda starts, and you look over to her curiously. “It was a minor league hockey game, he brought his brother,” she pauses. “A when I went to the bathroom, the game ended. And they forgot about me.”

“Okay, that’s a joke,” Bruce says.

“No,” Wanda shakes her head. “They had to come back for me.”

“Wait, when was this?” you ask.

“Um..it was not that long ago,” Wanda gives a small laugh.

“Wait, no way it was Vision,” Natasha says, putting down her sandwich.

Wanda laughs awkwardly before looking over to you.

You smile, walking in front of her and starting to lead her out. “Want to go play Dwight’s mug basketball?”

Wanda nods with a relieved sigh, following you out eagerly.

You keep a happy expression on your face, because now you finally know why Wanda’s always refused to go to sports games with Vision.

“Shield Industries, this is Wanda,” Wanda answers the phone.

“Wanda, it’s Tony. I need you to go into my office and read some data for me please.”

“Okay,” Wanda says, picking up the book Tony’s requested her to read in his office. “You want me to read the jokes for you?”

“Yes, please,” Tony responds on speakerphone.

“Okay, um, a fisherman is walking down 5th Avenue leading an animal behind him–”

“No, no, nope!” Tony cuts Wanda off. “I already told that joke to Fury earlier at the dinner. Pick another one.”

“Okay. There’s a transcript between a Naval ship–”

“Oh, yeah! Bingo,” Tony says. “Great, thanks, Wanda!”

“Sure,” Wanda says awkwardly. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good. But would you be able to put all those joke books back where you found them?”

“Sure,” Wanda agrees, hanging up the phone with a sigh.

Opening up the drawer to return the books strewn across Tony’s desk, Wanda’s eye immediately catches a thick stack of paper. Picking it up, Wanda has to cover her mouth to stop from bursting out in laughter.

You’re mindlessly clicking your mouse when suddenly, a huge stack of stapled paper is thrown onto your desk.

Reading the title, your eyes widen as you look over to Wanda who leans against the table casually.

“Is this real?” you ask, near giddy.

“It’s a screenplay,” Wanda pauses. “Starring himself.” “Agent Iron Man,” you read out.

“Of the FBI,” Wanda finishes.

“How long is this?” you laugh, flipping through the pages. “Oh my god, Wanda. Good work.”

Wanda laughs.

“Oh, no way,” you say, finding the last few pages and holding them up. “Drawings.”

“What is that?” Wanda asks.

“Oh, those are drawings,” you respond easily. “In case the writing didn’t really put a picture in your head.”

Wanda snickers, biting her lip to keep from laughing too hard.

“And there he is, in the flesh,” you say, pointing to the drawing. “Agent Iron Man. Now we know what he looks like.”

“So, do we all have our copy of Armored Adventures, by Tony Stark?” you ask the office staff gathered around the conference room table.

Everyone makes a sound of agreement.

“Great, so, let’s get started. I’m gonna be reading the action descriptions,” you say. “And Steve, I would like you to play Captain America, the first Avenger.”

“Oh, cool that’s the name of the character?” Steve asks.

Suddenly, Sam barges into the room, and angered expression on his face. “Okay, you guys should not be doing this,” he states firmly.

“Why not, Sam?” you ask. “This is a movie. This is for all of America to enjoy.”

“You took something that does not belong to you,” he responds.

“Sam.”

“You brought it in here, you made copies–”

“Sam, do you want to play the lead role of Agent Iron Man?” you ask, giving him a questioning look.

Sam pauses.

“Okay, sure.”

“Inside the FBI, Agent Iron Man sits with his feet up at the desk,” you read. “Captain America enters.”

“Tony, you have some messages,” Steve reads.

“Not now!” Sam reads emphatically.

“They’re important,” Steve says.

“Fine, what are they?” Sam asks.

A few moments pass, when suddenly, a knock on the door is heard.

“Vision,” Wanda says, making you turn around suddenly, noticing the man.

Wanda runs up, greeting him with a kiss. “Hey, um, I have to work late,” she says.

Vision gives her an incredulous look, hearing the absurd scene between Spider-Man and Agent Iron Man currently being read in the conference room. “You’re joking, right?”

Wanda shakes her head.

“Agent Iron Man takes out a nine millimeter gun and shoots the cake to bits,” you read.

Sam imitates the shooting of the cake.

“Ha ha ha, Agent Iron Man, you’re so funny,” Peter says.

“A man sitting several seats down who has clown makeup on, turns to Agent Iron Man,” you turn to Bruce. “Bruce, want to play the Joker?”

“Sure,” Bruce nods, clearing his throat. “Agent Iron Man, perhaps you would be more comfortable in my clown car?”

“Yes, perhaps I would, Joker,” Sam says. “Spider-Man, get my luggage.”

“Sorry, I forgot it,” Peter reads.

“God, Spider-Man, you’re a terrible assistant!” Sam reads. “I can’t believe I hired you, Sem.” Sam pauses. “Wait, who’s Sem?”

You turn to Wanda with an amused smile, who matches your expression.

“I don’t think the search and replace works on typos,” Wanda says to you through a burgeoning smile.

“So, Spider-Man is the terrible assistant ‘causing the downfall of the United States?” you ask, holding back your laughter.

“Also known as Sam Wilson,” Wanda chuckles.

You and Wanda look over to Sam, who before your eyes, realizes what Tony has done, making the man throw the script onto the table in anger.

“Okay, you know what, this is stupid. I’m done,” he says, abruptly sitting up from his chair and leaving the conference room.

“Sam, some of us want to keep reading,” you tell him.

Sam turns to you. “Uh, you don’t speak for everyone, Y/N,” he responds, crossing his arms, before turning to the rest of the office. “Okay, announcement. My uncle bought me some fireworks. And anyone who wants to see a real show come outside with me right now.”

“That’s actually a pretty good idea,” you nod, starting to sit up from your chair. “We’ll all take a brief intermission.” You turn to Wanda. “Hey, are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Wanda says, grateful you’ve asked.

“Yeah?” you ask. “Okay, come with me.”

While you may have had plans to meet a friend tonight, which you’ve now had to cancel, spending your evening preparing grilled cheese sandwiches for you and Wanda in the office kitchen isn’t something you’re upset at whatsoever. In fact, you would say it’s pretty great, and you’re not really a complainer either.

“Hi,” Wanda says, greeting you as you make your way up the ladder to the roof of the building, holding a box of accessories for the two of you as you watch the fireworks together.

“Hey,” you laugh, setting the box down before making your way to sit in the chair next to hers. “What’s that for?” you ask, pointing to the candle she’s attempting to light.

“For the bugs,” she answers easily.

“Nice,” you nod, before turning to grab the sandwiches you’ve prepared. “That’s great, because bugs, tend to love my famous grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“Them and me both,” Wanda laughs, grabbing the plate you’ve made for her. Then, after a moment, she speaks, “I can’t remember the last time someone made me diner.”

You pause, before grabbing your sandwich from the bag as well.

“Oh, look,” Wanda points to the fireworks Sam’s beginning to light. “Wow,” you say, finally enjoying something Sam has created in the 7 years you’ve known him.

“They’re really nice,” Wanda states, before resting her head on your shoulder as the two of you spend the evening watching the sparkling lights together.

“They really are,” you say quietly.

“So, I guess I’ll see you in,” Wanda pauses to check her phone. “10 hours,” she grins.

“Mhm,” you nod, following her out the building.

“What are you gonna do with your time off?” she jokes.

“Travel,” you answer easily with a nod. “I’ve been looking forward to it.” You smile. “I’m gonna really find myself, you know?” you finish, fishing your phone out of your pocket and putting in one of your earbuds.

Wanda looks over to you curiously. “You have new music?” she asks.

You look down to your phone. “Oh, yeah! Want to listen?” You offer her the other earbud.

Wanda nods, smiling as you hand her the earbud she immediately places in her ear, the two of you standing within inches of each other as you share your song.

“Wanda,” you run up to her desk excitedly the second you walk in the next day.

“Yeah?” Wanda laughs.

“I think Tony might’ve gotten together with someone from corporate last night,” you say, making Wanda gasp. “He didn’t come back for his car.”

“Oh, my god, that makes so much sense! That’s why Tony had me read out his stupid jokes over the phone,” she says in realization.

“Well, good for him. I don’t think he’s had a first date, in like ever,” you laugh, before looking over to her. “You know, some might say we even had our first date last night,” you smile.

“Oh really?” Wanda asks. “Why might some say that?”

“Uh, ‘cause there was dinner. By candlelight,” you answer.

“Mhm,” Wanda nods.

“Dinner and a show, if you include Tony’s movie,” you continue. “There was a bit of dancing, and fireworks. So, pretty good date.” “We didn’t dance,” Wanda says, chuckling.

“You’re right,” you say, suddenly feeling very awkward as you put your hands in your pockets. “But um, it was more like, swaying.”

“Right,” Wanda says. “Pretty good first date with you.”

You perk up. “Thanks.”

“Mhm,” Wanda nods. “Now, I have some faxes to get out, okay?” she says, standing up from her chair, giving you a kiss on the cheek before heading to the fax machine.

You smile, watching her leave, forgetting for a moment that it truly isn’t a date if the girl goes home to her fiancé at the end of the day.

[guiltyc0nscience]

⋆˙⟡ lacy, oh, lacy, matt sturniolo

ex!matt sturniolo x ex!fem reader

synopsis. in which your ex boyfriend matt gets a new girlfriend and you envy her.

warnings. angst, self comparison, ex!matt, jealousy.

word count. 700 words.

authors note. this is my fav song on guts :(

you were scrolling mindlessly through instagram, half-distracted by the show playing in the background, when it hits you like a punch in the gut.

matt’s name.

you almost swipe past it, the little blue checkmark drawing your attention before your brain has time to catch up. the first photo in the carousel is enough to make your chest tighten; matt’s unmistakable smile, wild and carefree, his arm slung casually around the waist of a girl who is undeniably beautiful.

she’s perfect in a way that feels cruel. her hair is shiny and soft, her skin glowing like she exists in some perpetually golden hour. she’s wearing a baby pink skirt and a white tank top, that made you second-guess every piece of clothing you ever owned. and matt—he’s looking at her like she’s the only thing that matters, his gaze full of that rare blend of comfort and adoration that used to be reserved for you.

your fingers hovered over the screen, but the curiosity wins. you click on her profile—never a good idea.

her name is lacy, a name as delicate and ethereal as she looks. her bio is full of cute emojis, and her feed is an endless stream of photos that make her seem both unreachable heartbreakingly real. there are candids of her laughing with friends, aesthetic shots of iced-lattes and sunsets, flawless photos of her, and of course, more pictures of her with matt.

each photo was a dagger.

you scroll further, unable to stop yourself. there’s a photo of her in a bikini that hugged her perfect body in all the right ways, standing on the beach, her arms wrapped around matt as he leans down to kiss her forehead. the stunning sunset in the background really setting the scene.

you hate her. you hate how easily she seems to slot into the life that used to be yours. you hate the way she seems so effortlessly happy, like she’s never had to sit in her room crying after seeing someone else post photos like this. most of all, you hate how much she reminds you of everything you’re not.

lacy was kind. you could tell by the way people commented under her posts, by the stories where she’s tagged with the captions like “the sweetest person alive” and “my literal angel.” she’s funny, too, with captions that actually made you laugh even though you resented her for it. and then there’s the way she looks at matt in every picture. it’s the kind of look you recognised because it used to be yours.

and matt—he’s happy. he looks like he’s found the thing he’s been searching for.

it feels like a slap in the face.

you tell yourself to stop. to close the app, put your phone down, and do literally anything else. but instead, you go back to his post, lingering on the comment section. the flood of heart emojis and “you two are perfect” messages like tiny arrows, each one reminding you that this is his life now.

he doesn’t think about you anymore.

the realisation hits harder than you expect. it’s not like you thought he was still pining for you, but seeing it laid out in front of you—proof that he’s moved on, that he’s happy—makes your stomach churn.

you close instagram and toss your phone onto your bed next to you, but the damage is done. lacy is burned into your mind now, an image you can’t shake. you think about her at random moments, comparing yourself to her in ways that feel pathetic but impossible to stop.

would matt have loved you more if you’d been more like her? if you’d laughed more or dressed better or been softer around the edges?

you hate how much you care.

it’s not just jealousy—it’s grief. for what you had with matt, for the person you were when you were with him. for the version of you that thought she was enough.

you try to tell yourself it’s just a passing feeling, that in a few days this ache will dull into something manageable. but tonight, it’s sharp and all-consuming, and it’s hard not to feel like lacy has taken more than matt from you.

she’s taken the version of yourself that felt loved.

and you can’t stop wondering if you’ll ever get her back.

[meazalykov]

Hiii!! I hope you're doing well.. I just wanted to ask if you could potentially make a fic of reader and Ona Batlle please?

shirt swap

ona batlle x reader (requested)

authors note: I am doing well, I hope you are as well. enjoy this fic :)

a draw in the champions league group stage against barcelona was enough for your team to be overjoyed.

personally, you were feeling a rush of excitement and nervousness.

a few weeks ago, ona batlle, one of the barcelona defenders, followed you on instagram.

curious, seeing that all of your soccer friends follow her on instagram, you followed her back.

after scrolling through her instagram pictures-- lets just say, you have a lot of attraction towards her.

your teammate convinced you to go and ask ona for her shirt, a foundation to start getting closer to the spanish woman.

seeing that ona was talking to your national teammate, kika, you walked up to them with a smile.

"y/n! its so nice to see you!" kika yells in portuguese, hugging and squeezing you as if you were going to vanish away.

"kika I can't breathe!" you squeak.

"I'm sorry!"

"ona have you met y/n before? y/n this is ona and ona this is y/n!" kika speaks in english.

"its nice to meet you, y/n." ona speaks with a smirk.

your breath could've been caught in your throat when ona grabs your hand, taking a kiss on your knuckles before pulling away.

kika didn't think much of it, until she saw your face get hot.

"its nice to meet you too, ona." you smirk.

"actually kika, I came over here to ask ona for her shirt." you look over at kika, pointing towards ona's shirt.

"oh my-- that's so nice." kika says with enthusiasm.

"I'd love to swap with you." ona says as she grabs the bottom of her shirt and pulls it over her head.

you do the same, making sure to fold the shirt handing it over to ona.

she gave you her barcelona jersey, and you were surprised when ona put your shirt on right away.

after you put her barcelona black away kit on, you looked over at kika who had the brightest smirk on her face.

she is definitely going to tease you about this in portugal for camp.

"you smell good." ona casually says, adjusting your shirt on her body as you smile.

"thank you, you do as well." you respond.

"I'm gonna go talk to esmee really quick..." kika says, nudging your shoulder with hers before she jogs over to the dutch woman by the benches.

now that kika is gone, you feel bolder about asking ona out-- or at least getting to talk to her more to lead up to that.

"I find this a little funny, since I followed you on instagram not too long ago." ona speaks up, stepping closer to you as you nodded your head.

"oh yeah, I remember that. it wasn't that long ago." you respond.

"don't tell any of the girls this, but can I get your phone number? I wanna start talking to you more." ona asks.

your heart could've exploded right there.

"oh definitely! I don't have a paper or my phone on me though." you say, going to pat your non-existent pockets on your shorts.

"let me go get mine, I'll be back." ona calls as she jogs away to the benches.

your head turned to look at kika by the benches, she started giggling along with esmee brugts beside her--- you shook your head at them for being so nosey.

"here, you can type it here." ona says, jogging back to you with the keypad on her phone ready.

"done." you quickly type your number in, giving her your phone number.

"do you want to go out sometime, maybe after we start talking for a bit?" you ask.

your club was in england, and her club was in spain-- but you'd be willing to fly back here to spain sometime or flying her out to come see you. she's played in england before so you know she'd have some comfort there.

"I'd love that. I was actually going to ask you but it's nice you got to first." ona giggled.

you smile brightly, the sound of her laughter is something you found cute.

"okay, I'll see you then." you say.

---

three months later after that game, ona came to visit her old manchester united teammates in england.

on the last day before she left, she stopped by to see you at manchester city.

"hola!!" you squeal as ona threw herself into your arms.

for the last three months, the both of you have talked on the phone every evening.

the chemistry and compatibility between the both of you was undeniable, even from miles away.

"hey how have you been?!" ona asked, immediately running into your apartment and throwing herself on your couch.

"you know how I've been! I've been good." you say as you go into your kitchen.

"y/n you know what I mean." ona continues to lay on your couch, grabbing your remote and turning on your tv after a bit of struggle.

"okay okay-- well ona do you want anything to drink? I can make you coffee-- hot or iced-- I can make you a smoothie too, or I have water." you suggest.

"ou what smoothies do you have?" ona jumps up from your couch, keeping the remote on your coffee table as she comes towards you in your kitchen.

"I can make you a strawberry banana smoothie, mango, kiwi, peanut butter-- I have a lot of ingredients to make whatever you want." you say.

"I'll take banana." ona says.

"just banana?" you ask with a light smile.

"yup!" ona says with a *pop* on the ending.

"I got you." you say.

as you prepped her smoothie, ona started walking around your apartment.

you didn't mind it at all, since she is staying with you for the night until she catches her flight back to spain.

"you kept my jersey?" you hear ona call out from one your rooms.

you left the kitchen to go into your hallway, to see that ona was in your spare room.

you used that spare room as a room where you kept your vanity, gaming setup, and frames where you put player's jerseys in.

you have ona's jersey in one of those frames. her jersey was in-between marta's brazil jersey and messi's barcelona signed jersey.

"yes I did." you walked into the room, seeing her observing all of the jerseys you've gotten.

"why is mine beside messis?? do you think I'm on his level." ona laughed.

"I think you're better." you joked.

"oh shut up, don't even joke like that." the both of you laughed hard.

"ona, I highly value you, you're a great defender and play for barcelona of all teams!" you say.

you're playing for another club, so that's all you want to say about ona' club without betraying your club in manchester.

"you should come to barcelona, we need a right-back." ona smirks.

"someday, I really like manchester city now." you say.

"okay that's fair." ona responds.

there was a moment of silence as ona gave you a look you couldn't recognize.

you stood by the door, leaning on the frame as ona came closer to you.

you were a couple of inches taller than ona, so you looked down at her as she stopped in front of you.

nothing else was said as you both leaned in and kissed each other. you pulled away with a smirk as ona wrapped her arms around your waist.

"how long were you waiting to do that?" you asked, giggling as ona rested her head on your shoulder.

"since we did the shirt swap back in barcelona." ona responds, giving your shoulder a kiss as you rested your head on top of hers.

my masterlist is linked here if you wanna check out more fics <3

[pandapetals]

Always

You find a photo from your childhood that sends you spiraling and Logan comforts you.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Ororo had casually mentioned wanting to borrow a pair of boots you’d worn years ago, which led to you rummaging around in your closet for over an hour. You could picture them perfectly in your mind—brown leather, worn but stylish—and you vividly remembered boxing them up and stacking them neatly with your other shoes. Or, at least, you thought you did.

Frustration began to creep in as you pulled down box after box, each one revealing everything except the boots you were looking for. A pair of strappy heels you didn’t even remember owning. A dusty pair of sneakers that should’ve been thrown out years ago. Another box filled with scarves instead of shoes.

When you reached the last box, tucked away in the farthest corner, you huffed and pulled it closer. This one felt oddly light, and when you opened it, your hands stilled. Inside wasn’t the pair of boots you’d been searching for but something you hadn’t seen in years—a collection of forgotten belongings.

There were old photos, their edges frayed and curling, buried under an assortment of trinkets: a childhood bracelet you thought you’d lost, a small drawing you’d scribbled as a kid, and a fraying ticket stub from a county fair. At the very top of the pile was a photo of you as a child, standing between your parents. The three of you were smiling like the picture-perfect family. Your dad had his arm around your mom, and she was beaming as if she didn’t have a care in the world. But you knew better.

Before you could stop yourself, you picked up the photo, your fingers trembling as the memories came rushing back. The forced smiles. The nights spent hiding under your blanket, praying your dad’s temper wouldn’t boil over. The mornings after, when your mom would quietly clean up the aftermath as if nothing had happened.

Tears blurred your vision, spilling down your cheeks before you could wipe them away. You clutched the photo to your chest, your heart twisting in a storm of conflicting emotions—grief, anger, and a longing you didn’t quite know how to name.

That’s how Logan found you—kneeling in the dim closet, surrounded by scattered shoes and open boxes, your shoulders shaking as you sobbed silently into the picture. His chest tightened at the sight, and for a moment, he just stood there, taking you in, his usual gruffness replaced by a quiet tenderness.

“Sweetheart,” Logan murmured softly, stepping into the closet and kneeling beside you. His hand was warm and steady as it settled on your back, rubbing gentle circles. “What’s goin’ on?”

You couldn’t speak at first, the lump in your throat making it impossible. You just held up the photo for him to see, your fingers curling tightly around its edges.

Logan took it, his eyes flickering over the image before settling back on you. He didn’t press, didn’t demand answers. He just waited, his quiet presence like a steady anchor in the storm.

After a moment, you managed to whisper, “It’s been years… since he died. And I still don’t know how to feel.” Your voice cracked, the weight of the confession spilling out like a flood. “He was an abusive alcoholic, Logan. He hurt me. He hurt my mom. And yet… I still miss him. How messed up is that?”

Logan’s brows furrowed, his gaze softening. He placed the photo carefully on the ground and took your trembling hands in his, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “It ain’t messed up,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. “He was your dad, sweetheart. No matter what he did, part of you wanted him to be better—for you, for your mom. That hope doesn’t just go away.”

You let out a shaky breath, your tears falling harder now. “I wanted so badly to hate him. But after he died, I just couldn’t. I forgave him…and my mom…I keep wishing we could fix things, but every time I try, it just… it doesn’t work.”

Logan nodded, his expression unreadable but deeply attentive. “Your mom’s probably got her own guilt to carry,” he said after a pause. “And that’s a heavy thing to drag around. Maybe she doesn’t know how to meet you halfway. But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong for wantin’ somethin’ better.”

His words, raw and simple, cut through the noise in your head, giving shape to feelings you’d struggled to name. “How do I even start?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to your hands in his. “I don’t have all the answers,” he admitted. “But you don’t have to figure it all out at once. Sometimes… you just gotta take it one day at a time. You can’t change what’s behind you, but you can decide what’s ahead.”

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his for something—guidance, reassurance, anything. “What about your parents?” you asked hesitantly. “Do you… remember them? I know you don’t like talking about them.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, his thumb still tracing slow circles on your knuckles. “Bits and pieces,” he said finally. “My dad…the man I knew as my dad…I remember him being kind. He used to take care of me when…I was sick. And my mom… she tried, but…” He trailed off, his expression distant for a moment before he looked back at you. “I don’t remember much, but I know one thing for sure. You don’t get to pick where you come from, but you can pick where you’re goin’.”

His words settled deep in your chest, like a quiet flame sparking in the dark, warming places you hadn’t realized were still cold. Without hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his knuckles—the same hands that had once brought destruction but now protected and comforted with an unmatched tenderness. You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along his skin.

“You’re a good man, James,” you whispered, your voice steady but full of emotion.

Logan didn’t respond right away, but his hazel eyes softened, the weight of your words sinking into him in ways he rarely allowed. His gaze held yours, brimming with something raw and unguarded, the kind of emotion he kept locked away from the world. Slowly, he reached up and brushed a tear from your cheek with a careful thumb, his touch as gentle as his expression was conflicted. It was the touch of someone who knew pain intimately but was still learning what it meant to heal.

“James,” he murmured, the name sounding foreign as it rolled off his tongue. He said it like he was testing its weight, trying to remember the man who used to wear it. “Haven’t been called that in a long time.”

“Sorry,” you said quickly, guilt creeping into your tone as you searched his face for a reaction. “I didn’t mean—”

Logan shook his head, cutting you off gently. “No,” he said, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “It’s okay. Just… feels strange. Like I don’t deserve it. That name… it feels tied to someone better than me. Someone I haven’t been in a long time.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and your hand instinctively moved to cradle his, holding it between your smaller palms. “Logan,” you began softly, your voice trembling but steadying as you went on. “You are good. You’ve proven it time and time again. You’ve protected people, cared for them—even when you didn’t think you were capable of it.”

His jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to where your hands held his, as though he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. “Doesn’t feel like enough sometimes,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “Every time I think I’m more than what I’ve done, more than what I’ve been… something pulls me back. Reminds me I’ve got blood on these hands.”

You shook your head, your grip on his hand tightening as your heart ached for him. “These hands—your hands—they’ve saved more lives than they’ve ever hurt. You’ve helped people find hope, find safety. You’ve helped me.” Your voice cracked slightly, and you blinked back the tears brimming in your eyes. “You’ve shown me what love can be, and I’ll remind you every day if I have to, that you’re more than enough.”

With a deep exhale, he met your gaze. “You’ve got a way of makin’ a man feel like he’s more than he is,” he murmured, a faint, almost self-deprecating smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. But the warmth in his gaze betrayed how much your words meant to him.

You smiled, leaning in closer, your fingers brushing over the rough, scarred surface of his knuckles, letting your touch linger. “Sometimes… I feel like I was made for this. To remind you of who you really are, even when you forget. You’re not the man you think you are. You’re so much more.”

Logan swallowed hard, his free hand lifting slowly to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin in a gesture so gentle it made your chest ache. “I think we were made for each other,” he said quietly, his voice a low, gravelly whisper like he was confessing a secret. “You’ve shown me I’m more than what I’ve done. More than what people see. And for that… I’m grateful, darlin’. More than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”

His words wrapped around you like a soft, warm blanket, their weight settling into your heart. Tears spilled freely down your cheeks, but your smile didn’t falter. Instead, you leaned into his touch, feeling the calloused strength of his hand cradling you like something precious.

For a long moment, you sat together, the stillness of the room filled with unspoken understanding. Logan’s thumb traced tender circles along your cheekbone, his hazel eyes holding yours with a mixture of awe and gratitude.

Eventually, the corners of his mouth tugged upward into a soft, almost hesitant smile. “Why don’t you tell me something about your dad?” he murmured, his tone gentle, without expectation.

You sighed, your breath shaky as you rested your head against his shoulder. His familiar scent—woodsy and warm—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment. “Something good or bad?” you asked quietly.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice a soft rumble in your ear. “Doesn’t have to be good or bad. Just… tell me what comes to mind.”

You hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you stared down at your intertwined hands. His fingers dwarfed yours, but his grip was steady and reassuring as if to say he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Most people just want to hear the good stuff,” you said finally, your voice tinged with bitterness. “The kind of memories that paint him as something he wasn’t. They don’t want to know the truth… just the version of him that’s easier to love.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His voice was low, steady. “You don’t have to paint him in a good light for me,” he said. “I may not have known him, but I know you. Whatever you feel, whatever you remember—that’s what matters. You don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

His words unraveled something inside you, a knot you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding onto. You exhaled slowly, the tension in your chest easing as you let your head fall more fully against his shoulder.

“I remember the way he used to sing when he was drunk,” you said after a long pause. “He had this old, off-key voice that filled the whole house. It wasn’t… joyful or sweet, though. It was more like he was trying to drown something out. Maybe his regrets. I don’t know.”

Logan stayed silent, his hand resting against your back now, rubbing soothing circles as you spoke.

“And I remember how he’d come home after losing his temper somewhere else,” you continued, your voice trembling. “I’d hear the door slam, and I’d just… freeze. Waiting. Wondering if tonight was going to be a bad night or just a quiet one.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and though he said nothing, you could feel his silent rage at the man you were describing. But his grip on you stayed gentle, his touch never faltering.

“But,” you added, surprising yourself, “I also remember how he’d make breakfast when he wasn’t drinking. Omelettes from scratch. He’d put so much love and care into cooking. He had a real talent for it. I remember thinking those mornings were the closest we ever got to being… normal.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and Logan’s arm tightened around you, pulling you closer against his chest. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. “It’s okay to remember the good and the bad. They’re both part of it.”

“I hate that I miss him sometimes,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I hate that I can still find those little pieces of him that I loved, even after everything he did.”

Logan rested his chin on the top of your head, his warmth radiating through you. “Missing someone doesn’t mean you forgive everything, or that you forget the bad,” he said softly. “It just means you’re human. And that’s not a bad thing, sweetheart.”

You looked up at him then, your eyes glassy. “How are you so good at this?” you asked, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You act like you’re all gruff and growly, but here you are, saying stuff like that.”

Logan chuckled, his voice deep and soothing. “Guess I’m full of surprises,” he said, tilting his head down to kiss your forehead softly. “But if I’ve got anything worth sayin’, it’s ‘cause of you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you tilted your face up to meet his gaze, letting yourself get lost in the tenderness you found there. “Thank you,” you whispered, the weight of your gratitude pressing against your chest. “For listening. For being here.”

He smiled faintly, his hand moving to cradle your cheek. “Always,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

[cosmicaura7]

AITA SERIES

Pairings : pedro pascal characters x reader

Genre : f/m, sexual implications, controversial topics, taboo topics, use of R to refer to reader, 

Synopsis : So Reddit, Am I the Asshole…?

Clint Flood (Freaky Tales)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for being in love with my boyfriend’s dad?

I know how this sounds. I’m not proud of it. But I also can’t stop thinking about it, so here I am.

I (26F) have been dating J (28M) for almost a year now. He’s a good guy, steady, kind and a little boring but safe. The kind of guy you’re supposed to want to marry. The kind your mom would approve of.

Then there’s his dad. C (mid-50s). A little rough around the edges. Quiet, tall and intense. He’s got these piercing eyes that feel like they can see right through you and this whole ex-military and no-bullshit vibe that makes the air change when he walks into a room.

The first time I met him, I already felt something. But I ignored it, pushed it down. But it’s gotten worse. Every time I visit their family cabin, every time we sit across from each other at dinner, I feel his gaze linger just a little too long. I catch him watching me when he thinks I won’t notice. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look right back. It’s not just lust, either. He actually sees me, listens to me in a way his son never really does. He remembers the small things I say, and even notices when I change my hair. Once, when I was quietly crying in the hallway during a family weekend (long story), he was the one who came out and handed me a glass of water without a word.

I feel so drawn to him. And I know how messed up that is, I’m dating his son after all. There’s no world where this ends well. I haven’t cheated. I haven’t done anything beyond maybe letting my imagination wander and entertaining a few dreams I’ll never admit out loud. But lately, when I’m with J, I just feel off. Like I’m pretending. Like I’m waiting for someone else to walk into the room. Someone who makes my skin burn with just a glance.

So Reddit… AITA for staying in a relationship when my heart might be somewhere else? Am I horrible for wanting a man I can’t have? Or is this just a passing obsession I need to bury deeper?

Dave York (The Equalizer 2)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for not acting on feelings for my kids’ babysitter even though she clearly wants me to?

Okay Reddit, I know how this sounds, but hear me out before you jump to “creep” in the comments.

I (41M) am a divorced dad of two daughters, A (10) and M (7). They’re my world. Been raising them mostly solo for the past three years since the split and it hasn’t been easy. Between work, school pickups and dance recitals, I needed help. Enter her (let’s call her R, 26F), the babysitter I hired after a friend’s recommendation.

She’s absolutely incredible. Responsible, patient, smart, funny and grounded. Everything you’d want in a woman. My girls adore her. They draw her pictures, ask for her when they’re sick, even slip up and call her “Mom” sometimes. I figured that would make things easier, someone stable in their lives.

What I didn’t expect was me being the unstable one. Because the problem is, she’s also gorgeous. Like, unfairly so. And lately, I can’t tell if I’m imagining things or if she’s trying to test me. The casual touches, the way she lingers in the kitchen when I come home, the soft voice when she tells me I look tired and should get more sleep, the ridiculously tight tank tops, the lip gloss and the way she looks at me when she doesn’t think I notice.

Part of me, a big part, wants to give in. I’m a man, I’m not oblivious to it. But the other part? The one that tucks my daughters in at night? That part is scared shitless. What if I misread everything? What if this ruins the bond she has with my girls? What if they lose someone they love because their dad couldn’t keep it in his pants?

She’s never said anything outright, never crossed a clear line. But I can feel the tension and I can feel myself getting closer to breaking every day. I want her so badly but I also want what’s best for my kids. I just don’t know if those two things can exist at the same time.

So Reddit… AITA for keeping her at arm’s length when all I want to do is pull her closer?

Dieter Bravo (The Bubble)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for falling in love with my fake PR girlfriend and not knowing if she actually likes me or is just a better actor than I am?

Okay. Buckle up, internet strangers because I’m spiraling.

I (early 40s M, actor, you’ve probably seen me snort a line or die dramatically in something) was recently paired up with another actor (let’s call her R, 30s F, wildly talented, unfairly hot and intimidatingly cool) to star in this big dramatic slow-burn romance film. Think tortured artists, rainy kisses and completely Oscar bait.

To sell it? The studios and our agents cooked up this genius idea, let’s fake date. Hold hands at events, post blurry selfies on Instagram, give flirty interviews. You know, classic “no, we’re just good friends… wink” PR bait. At first, I laughed. I’ve done this crap before. All the camera flashes, fake kisses, casually mentioning her in interviews, rinse and repeat.

Except it stopped feeling fake. I stopped feeling fake. Somewhere between the shared hotel rooms, the quiet after-parties, the little glances during press junkets, I fell for her. Fully, horrifically and irrevocably. The kind of fall that makes your chest hurt and your ego scream. The worst part? I have no clue if she feels the same. She’s good, man. Oscar-nominee good. She leans into my arm like she means it. Laughs at my dumb jokes like they’re brilliant. Once she looked at me after a long day of shooting and said, “Sometimes I forget this isn’t real.” and I swear to god my soul left my body.

But then the next morning she’ll be cold again. Professional and distant. Like I dreamed the whole thing. Like it’s all just lines from a script I don’t have a copy of. Now I’m sitting here, fully in love with the woman I’m supposed to be pretending to love and I don’t know if I should say anything. What if I ruin everything? What if she is just pretending? What if I’m just another role she nails while I’m over here method acting heartbreak?

So Reddit… AITA for catching real feelings during a fake relationship? Or just an idiot with a crush and no chill?

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for not following through with a hit because I fell in love with the target?

Yeah. That title’s a mess. So’s the situation.

I (40M) work in a niche line of work. Let’s just say I solve problems that require extreme discretion and no paper trail. You hire me and the problem disappears. Clean and quiet within a blink of an eye.

A few months ago, I got a high-paying job from a rich smug prick who wanted his ex-wife taken care of. No explanation, just names, photos and a price I couldn’t ignore. I’ve done worse for less so I took it. Her name is R (36F). First time I saw her, she was sitting outside a little bookstore she owns, sipping coffee, talking to some neighborhood kid like she wasn’t marked for death. I kept my distance. Observed and waited for the right time.

Only it never came.

The more I watched, the harder it became to see her as a target. She volunteers at shelters. Leaves snacks out for delivery drivers. She sings in her car when she thinks no one’s watching. She’s light and warm. The kind of woman you protect, not eliminate.

I told myself I was just gathering intel but days turned to weeks. I started memorizing her routines. I learned the way she laughs when she texts her sister, the exact brand of tea she drinks, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s nervous. Somewhere along the way, the job stopped being a job. I never made contact, never said a word. But I started feeling and now I’m in too deep. I backed out of the job quietly. Told the client it was unworkable, returned the deposit. He wasn’t happy but I’d rather deal with him than live with the thought of hurting her.

Problem is, I still want her. And I’ve imagined going up to her. Introducing myself as just a guy who walked into her in a random shop. Letting her fall for me without knowing who I really am. But that feels like a lie. I’ve already lied by omission.

So Reddit… AITA for falling for her while stalking her? For not telling her the truth even though every part of me wants to protect her now? Or would telling her everything be the most selfish thing I could do?

Ezra (The Prospect)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for secretly dating my best friend’s brother even though she explicitly told me not to?

So I (F, 27) have been best friends with this girl since we were 7. We grew up together, sleepovers, secrets, teenage rebellion, the whole deal. She’s like a sister to me and we’ve been through everything.

Which means I also grew up around E (M, 34), her older brother. E was the charming, sarcastic, effortlessly cool older brother who’d tease us when we were kids, drive us around when we were teens, and smirk at me in that infuriating way that made me blush harder than I’d like to admit. We always had this… thing. Flirty comments, lingering looks, stupid jokes that only made sense to us. But I never acted on it. My best friend made it very clear and very early on that E was off limits. “It’d be weird.” She said, “Gross. I don’t want my bestie being near my brother like that

Fast forward to last year. I ran into E at a party she dragged me to and it was different. The flirting was heavier. The air was tense. He looked at me like he really saw me. One thing led to another, and… yeah. We started secretly dating. At first, it was light, late-night texting, stolen moments, private dinners. But it grew deeper. He’s thoughtful, steady, makes me laugh and makes me feel safe. He listens. We talk about everything. I think I’ve loved him longer than I’ve even known what love was.

We’ve been together for 5 months now. My best friend doesn’t know. I’ve lied to her face more times than I can count and I hate it. Every time E and I sneak around, a part of me dies a little because I know how betrayed she’ll feel if (when) she finds out.

But here’s the thing, it’s not some casual fling. We’re in love. I want to tell her. We both do. We just don’t know how without blowing up twenty years of friendship. And I can’t stop asking myself, do I owe her that level of loyalty? Or am I allowed to be happy even if it’s messy?

So Reddit… AITA for going behind my best friend’s back and dating her brother, the one person she begged me not to fall for?

Francisco Morales (Triple Frontier)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to ask out a woman who used to sleep with my best friend (even though I’ve liked her for years)?

Yeah, I know how this sounds. Buckle up.

I (38M) have this friend, let’s call him Pope, who I’ve known forever. We’ve been through the shit together. The kind of friendship where you’d kill for the guy, no questions asked.

A few years ago, he was hooking up with this woman (let’s call her R, 30F). Nothing serious. Just casual, no-strings. He made that clear to all of us. And she seemed fine with it. They’d hook up after drinks or late nights but it fizzled out naturally. No drama. No breakup. Just life moving on.

Thing is that I liked her, always liked her. Since day one. She’s smart, hilarious, can handle a room full of testosterone like it’s nothing and has this way of looking at you that makes you feel like you’re the only guy in the world. I kept my distance out of respect. You don’t move in on your best friend’s girl even if she was never really his girl. But now, years later, I still haven’t stopped thinking about her. We still talk and hang out sometimes. There’s a spark there, I swear. But I haven’t said a damn thing. Partly because I’m a coward, partly because I don’t want to blow up my friendship with Pope.

I asked him once, hypothetically, how he’d feel if someone dated a girl he’d just “hooked up with.” He shrugged and said, “If it was just a hook-up, I wouldn’t give a shit.” But I don’t know if he actually meant it. And I don’t know if it’s different when it’s one of us, tight-knit, military bond and all.

So Reddit… AITA if I ask her out? Am I a bad friend for wanting a chance with the woman he technically had first, even if it was casual and years ago? Or should I just shut my mouth and keep pretending I don’t care?

Harry Castillo (The Materialists)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to financially support my assistant in a way that might make me her sugar daddy?

Throwaway because, well, obviously.

I (42M) run several successful business firms and have a phenomenal assistant (26F). Let’s call her R. She’s sharp, competent, endlessly patient with my disorganization and frankly the reason this whole damn office runs at all.

Here’s the thing, I’ve noticed she’s been struggling lately. She’s skipping meals, avoiding turning on the office heat even when she’s freezing. I caught her patching a hole in her shoe with tape. She’s proud and never complains, but it’s obvious she’s barely staying afloat. I pay her more than what she deserves for her position but I know life’s expensive, especially in Manhattan. I also know she’s got student loans and takes care of her family. And I hate seeing her like this, it’s been eating at me.

So here’s where I might be the asshole, I’ve been toying with the idea of offering her help. Not a raise (I already gave her one recently). Not a loan (she’d never accept). More like a “no strings attached” arrangement where I’d take care of her rent, groceries or whatever she needs, if she lets me. Yes, I know how that sounds. I’m not trying to be a creep. I’m not expecting anything in return, no paying back, no sexual favors. But there’s no way to make this offer without it sounding like I want to be her sugar daddy.

Truth is… I wouldn’t hate that idea if she was open to something more. She’s beautiful and smart. The kind of woman I’d fall for in another life. But that’s not what this is about. I just want to take care of her and make sure she’s okay. If there’s anything more deserving in living the lavish life, it’s definitely her. 

So Reddit… AITA for even thinking about offering something like that? And if not, how the hell do I go about it without sounding like an old pervert?

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels (Kingsman)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for being cold to a woman at work because she reminds me of my dead wife?

I (late 40s, M) work in a high-risk field, let’s just call it federal-level security with a cowboy hat on top. I’m used to staying sharp and staying detached. I’ve had to be, ever since I lost my wife ten years ago. She was my everything. Sweet, sharp-tongued and tough as nails under lace. When she died… I buried my heart with her.

Then came her.

Let’s call her R (mid-30s, F). She’s the new secretary at our organization. Handles the logistics, the schedules, the background noise of our chaos. Always has a coffee in hand, always humming something, always looking at the world like it still deserves to be forgiven. The first time I saw her, I froze. She didn’t look exactly like my wife, not quite, but she moved like her, laughed like her and smiled with that same little tilt that used to undo me in an instant. And ever since then, I’ve treated her like she’s done something wrong just by walking into the damn room.

I’m short and dismissive with her, sometimes even rude. I pretend not to hear her when she says good morning. Once or twice, I’ve even corrected her harshly in front of others for mistakes she didn’t make. I know I’m being cruel. She hasn’t done a damn thing to deserve it. But every time she opens her mouth, I hear a ghost. Thing is, she’s never pushed back. She just looks at me with this confused kind of hurt, like she doesn’t understand what she did wrong and the truth is, she didn’t, never did. I did. I’m the one turning grief into anger. I’m the one who never dealt with losing the woman I loved and now I’m taking it out on someone who’s just being kind.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about apologizing, about telling her the truth. But I’m afraid if I let her in, I’ll start feeling again. And I don’t know if I’ve got the strength to lose someone twice.

So Reddit… AITA for being a jackass to someone just because she reminds me of someone I lost? Or is this just the only way I know how to cope?

Javi Guttierez (The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for kissing my assistant and confessing my feelings, only for her to completely ignore it the next day?

This might be a mess so bear with me.

I (M, 33) am a scriptwriter and producer. I’ve worked my way up in this business and I take it seriously. One of the smartest things I ever did was hire her, my assistant (F, 28). Let’s call her R. She’s incredible. Organized, sharp, cool under pressure, has this dry humor that makes me laugh at the worst times and somehow remembers every detail about everyone I ever meet. She makes me better. She makes the job look easy.

And I’ve been in love with her for almost two years.

I know it’s unprofessional. I kept it quiet, never crossed a line, not even a toe near one. Because she deserves respect and I’d rather suffer in silence than make her uncomfortable or jeopardize her career.

But it’s been getting harder lately, especially at industry parties. She turns heads when she walks into a room. Every actor, every big name, they all want a piece of her. And I just stand there, pretending I don’t care. Pretending I’m not dying inside when they make her laugh, when they ask for her number, when she says, “I’m working” and looks away.

Then came this gala. One too many champagne flutes. One too many guys trying to corner her. She looked uncomfortable, kept glancing at me across the room. And something in me snapped. I pulled her away from the crowd, took her to the balcony, and without thinking, I kissed her. Then I told her everything. That I’ve liked her since week one. That I think about her all the time. That it kills me to watch her with anyone else.

And she just ran. Didn’t say a word. Just turned and walked away.

Next morning? It was like it never happened. She showed up, clipboard in hand, rattling off schedules, looking me dead in the eye like she hadn’t fled from my lips ten hours prior. I’ve tried talking to her. I’ve begged for just five minutes of her time. She dodges me, changes subjects, acts like everything is normal, and it’s driving me insane. I feel like I crossed a boundary. But also, I was honest. I never forced anything. I just said how I felt.

So Reddit… AITA for kissing my assistant and confessing my feelings after years of silence, even if now she won’t speak to me?

Javier Peña (Narcos)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for constantly rejecting my coworker’s advances even though I’m actually in love with him?

This is going to sound like I’m the world’s biggest idiot, but here goes.

I (29F) work for the government. It's a hard, high-stress job and there’s not a lot of room for vulnerability or, y’know, romance. Which sucks because I’ve been half in love with my colleague, let’s call him J, since the day I met him.

He’s everything you’d want in a man. Confident, charming and dangerous in that bad boy way. He walks into a room and women stare. He talks and people listen. He flirts like it’s breathing. And yeah, he’s got a reputation. Everyone knows he’s been around, probably the most sexually experienced man I’ve ever met.

Me? I’ve never even had sex. Not religious, not traumatized, it just never happened for me. I’ve always been shy and easily intimidated. I was the "shy bunny" in the academy, not the one guys chased after. And when J started flirting with me, like really flirting, I froze.

It’s not like I’m not interested, I am. But every time he makes a move, I panic, I dodge, I pretend that I’m too busy or brush him off with a joke. Because the thought of actually being with him, of taking off my clothes in front of a man like that, makes me want to crawl into a hole. I’m scared I’ll disappoint him. That I’ll be awkward or inexperienced or just not enough. And then I’ll ruin the one good relationship I have on this damn job. He still flirts, still checks in. But I can feel the distance growing. I think he’s starting to think I’m not into him. Or worse, that I’m playing games. I’m not. I just don’t know how to tell him why I keep backing off.

So Reddit… AITA for rejecting him over and over while secretly being in love with him? Should I be honest and risk everything? Or just keep my mouth shut and let him move on to someone who won’t choke up the second he touches her?

Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for having feelings for my dad’s best friend, who basically helped raise me?

Okay, so this is going to sound real bad on paper, but hear me out.

I (26F) have known this man, J, since I was a kid. He’s my dad’s best friend, a grumpy rugged Texan who’s been around for every milestone in my life. School plays, birthdays, college move-in day, you name it, J was always there, usually fixing something or standing off to the side with a cup of coffee and his permanent scowl.

Here’s the thing, somewhere in the last year or two, I started not seeing J as just “Dad’s friend.” Like, I’ll walk into the kitchen in my pajamas and he’s fixing the sink with his sleeves rolled up, arms flexing and suddenly I’m thinking things I should probably be arrested for. It’s not just physical. He listens to me, respects me and treats me like a grown woman, not a little girl.

A few nights ago, he stayed over after helping Dad rebuild the deck. I poured him a whiskey after Dad went to bed and we talked for hours. At one point, he brushed my hand and didn’t pull away right away. It was small but it felt like something shifted. Here’s the kicker, I want something to happen. I want him but I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet because 1.) he’s my dad’s best friend, 2.) he’s literally 20+ years older than me, and 3.) I know if my dad ever found out, it’d destroy their friendship.

So Reddit… AITA for wanting to sleep with the man who basically helped raise me? I haven’t acted on it yet, but I want to desperately. Am I a terrible person for thinking so?

Marcus Acacius (Gladiator II)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for secretly dating my professor after we hooked up, even though I was the one who pursued him first?

Throwaway for obvious reasons. This is messy and I know it.

So I (22F) am a senior in college, finishing my degree in classical studies. For the past year, I’ve been taking a Roman history seminar taught by Professor M (M, late 30s?). He’s brilliant, sharp-tongued, a little intimidating and, honestly, incredibly attractive in that cold, untouchable kind of way. I’ve had a crush on him since day one.

He’s very professional, like textbook boundary-keeper. Never gave me special treatment, never even hinted at anything, even though I was top of his class and probably tried way too hard to impress him. I figured it would stay one-sided forever. Until a few weeks ago, I went to a bar near campus with friends. And who do I run into? Him. Out of the suit, out of the lecture hall, totally relaxed. He buys me a drink. We talk, like, really talk. He’s charming, funny and flirty. I was shocked. One thing led to another and I ended up at his apartment. We slept together. It was intense, passionate and everything I’d secretly fantasize about.

We talked the next morning. He made it very clear that he hadn’t planned it, that it was wrong in theory, but neither of us wanted to stop. So we kept seeing each otherecretly. Always professional on campus. No PDA. No weird behavior in class. It’s all strictly off the clock.

And honestly? I’m happy. I care about him. I think he cares about me too. But lately, some classmates have started joking that he favors me, not knowing anything is happening, and it’s making me feel paranoid. I’m terrified of ruining his reputation, of jeopardizing his career or mine. 

So Reddit… AITA for crossing that line with him? Or are we just two adults trying to be careful about something real in a setting that doesn’t make room for it?

Marcus Moreno (We Can Be Heroes)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for feeling blindsided that my neighbor, who babysits my daughter and I might be falling for, has a kid I didn’t know about?

Hey Reddit, this might sound like a midlife crisis-in-the-making but I really need some outside perspective.

I (M, 39) am a single dad. My daughter, also M (F, 8), is the best part of my life. I work a demanding job, and for the past year or so, my neighbor (F, 35), let’s call her R, has been babysitting M when I’m away. She’s kind, dependable and just gets my daughter in a way that instantly puts me at ease.

More than that, she gets me. We’ve grown close. Coffee on porches. Passing each other in the hall. Sometimes we talk until midnight over paper takeout boxes and M’s school projects. I always chalked it up to neighborly chemistry, nothing more. But lately, I’ve caught myself looking at her differently, wondering if maybe, just maybe, she might feel the same. My daughter doesn’t help. Every other night it’s, “Daddy, she has a crush on you.” Or “I think she’d be a great mom someday, like, to me.” Kids, right?

I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. I figured if she felt something, she’d say something or maybe I’d grow the courage to bring it up myself. But then, this weekend, a car pulls up in her driveway. I look out the window and I see a man step out, not threatening, just there. And then a little boy hops out of the back seat and runs into R’s arms.

My heart dropped. Turns out she has a kid, a son. From a previous marriage, she’s divorced. None of this was ever mentioned in all our conversations and now I feel off? Confused. A little betrayed? I know that sounds unfair, she’s not obligated to tell me her life story. But after all these quiet, close nights and tender moments and hearing from my daughter that she might have feelings for me, why didn’t she ever tell me about her son? I haven’t said anything. I don’t want to make her feel guilty. She still babysits my daughter. But I can’t stop replaying it all. Did she keep it from me on purpose? Was I just a fool for thinking we had something? Or am I just overwhelmed because I wanted her to be part of our little family and didn’t realize she already had one of her own?

So Reddit… AITA for feeling a little heartbroken and distant after finding out my neighbor has a son she never told me about?

Marcus Pike (The Mentalist)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for not telling my best friend that I’m secretly dating the man she just asked me to help her get with?

I (F, 30s) have been dating a coworker of mine, let’s call him M (late 30s, thoughtful, charming, ridiculously handsome) for over three years. We met working in the same department (federal law enforcement, so discretion is basically part of the uniform), and from the start, we kept it quiet. No PDA at work, no romantic texts on company phones, nothing that could put us under scrutiny. It was just easier that way, completely private and ours.

Fast-forward to now, we’ve built a whole life together in the shadows. We take trips, spend weekends at each other’s apartments, and talk about buying a house someday. The real deal.

Here’s the problem, my best friend, who also works in our agency, pulled me aside a few days ago and told me she has a huge crush on M. She said she’s had a thing for him for months but didn’t know how to approach it. And then she asked if I could help set her up with him, talk her up, ease her in, “put in a good word.” She has no idea I’m with him. We’ve never told anyone. And the worst part? She was genuinely excited when she told me, like school girl giddy level. She said, “I really think he could be the one.”

Now I feel sick. I didn’t know what to say. I kind of froze, gave a weird laugh and changed the subject. But now she keeps asking about it. And I feel like I’m betraying both of them, M, by not protecting our relationship and her, by hiding something huge.

M says we can go public. That he’s fine with it if I am but then what? I tell her I’ve been with the guy she’s secretly pining over for years and just didn’t say anything? Won’t she feel humiliated? Betrayed? I’m terrified it’ll destroy our friendship.

So Reddit… AITA for not telling my best friend I’m already with the guy she wants? And if not, what the hell do I do now?

Max Philips (Bloodsucking Bastards)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to quit because my boss won’t turn me into a vampire even though I’m literally the top performer?

I (24F) started an internship at a mid-size sales company a few months ago. I was just trying to get some experience and a paycheck. I didn’t expect, you know, vampires to be a part of that experience.

The office rumor (that everyone knows is true) is that M (mid-30s? ageless? hot in a soul-sucking Wall Street vampire sort of way) is the boss who handpicks the best employees to “promote” aka turn them into vampires. It’s a reward. Eternal life, endless energy, better insurance and apparently a coffee tolerance that doesn’t make your hands shake. Thing is, I’ve crushed the sales board for three months straight. Like, no competition. The next closest guy is 42 calls behind and cries during lunch. I stayed up late. I meet quotas no one else touches. My neck is basically exposed at this point, figuratively and literally.

And yet nothing. No shadowy invite. No creepy-but-glamorous “let’s talk in my office with the lights off.” M just gives me these weird once-overs in the elevator and says things like, “Good work, kid,” like I’m still in high school. Meanwhile, last month’s top performer (D, who sells like he’s reading from a cereal box) got “promoted” after one good week.

I tried asking. M just smiled, that smug fanged GQ smile and said, “It’s not just about the numbers.” Which… okay? What is it about then? Charm? Blood type? Being less annoying during meetings? Now I’m spiraling. Like am I not vampire material? Am I too ambitious? Not attractive enough? Too human? Every day I walk past the break room and see the cool undead crowd sipping their crimson smoothies and laughing at inside jokes about graveyards and their never ending orgies, and I feel like the nerd no one wants at the slumber party.

I’m starting to hate him. Not just because he won’t bite me but because I wanted it. I earned it. And now I’m stuck here, mortal, exhausted and drinking stale coffee while wondering if I’m not enough.

So Reddit… AITA for wanting to quit my job because my boss won’t make me a vampire? Or am I just taking professional rejection way too personally?

Maxwell Lord (Wonder Woman 1984)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to ask out my son’s teacher even though I’m afraid of messing up his life again?

So, I (M, early 40s) am a single dad to the best kid on the planet, A (9M). Sweet, brilliant and too good for me honestly. His mom and I split a few years ago and I’ve been doing the whole daddy CEO redemption arc thing ever since. Trying to be a good man. Trying to keep the chaos in check. Trying not to completely screw this kid up.

Enter her. My son’s teacher. Let’s call her R (30s F). She’s sunshine in human form. Whip-smart, patient and warm. She talks to A like he’s the most important person in the room, and hell, she talks to me like I’m not just a walking Wall Street headline. I’ve been smitten since parent-teacher night. Every time I drop A off or pick him up, I try to be charming, likeable, funny, confident. You know, my usual moves.

And I fail miserably. Every. Single. Time.

She doesn’t laugh at my stupid money jokes, she gives me this look when I bring her overpriced coffee like she knows I googled “gifts teachers love.” Once, I tried to compliment her and said, “You’re doing really admirable work wrangling a room full of small people.” I sounded like I was describing a livestock auction. Still, she smiles. She’s kind and I think, maybe, she likes me back? Or at least doesn’t hate me. Which, for me, is progress.

Here’s the problem, I’ve been thinking about asking her out. Just coffee, something simple. But I keep stopping myself because of A. He adores her. I mean, glows when he talks about her. I don’t want to confuse him. I don’t want him to feel weird if she becomes something more to me than “Ms. R.”

But lately, he’s been drawing pictures of the three of us. Me, him and her. He says stuff like, “Ms. R would make a good mom.” Or, “Ms. R always makes me feel safe.” And I can’t help but wonder, is he already hoping for something more?

So Reddit… AITA for wanting to ask out my son’s teacher even if it risks changing something sacred in his life? Or should I just keep pretending this isn’t killing me a little more every time I see her?

Lucien De Leon (The Uninvited)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for not being able to look at my best friend the same after I saw her camming and moaning my name?

Yeah. I know how that sounds. But please let me explain before you judge.

I (M, 29) have been best friends with R (F, 28) since we were kids. Grew up in the same neighborhood, went through awkward teen years together, cried on each other’s shoulders during breakups, shared popcorn during horror movie marathons, the whole “platonic soulmates” deal. Everyone always assumed we’d end up together but we never crossed the line. Mostly because I never had the guts.

Truth is, I’ve been in love with her since high school. She’s funny, brilliant, completely unfiltered and has this laugh that makes me feel like everything’s okay. I never told her because I didn’t want to lose what we had.

Then last week, I was up late, bored, scrolling whatever and I ended up on a cam site. Just clicking around, not expecting anything.

And there she was.

On camera. 

In the most sinful lingerie I’ve ever seen and looking gorgeous as ever. And at first I froze. I thought, “No way. That can’t be her.” But it was 100% her. The mole on her hip, the way she chews her lip when nervous, her voice. 

And then she moaned my name. Not in passing. Not like in a roleplay type of way. My actual real name. I exited so fast I nearly dropped my phone. I haven’t told her. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop picturing it. Her, saying my name, like that. And now every time we hang out, it’s like a war in my head, part of me still wanting to protect her, the other part completely wrecked by desire and curiosity. I feel like I’ve violated something, even though she’s the one streaming it publicly. I feel like a creep but also kind of hopeful? Like maybe she feels something for me, too? I don’t know what to do. I can’t unsee it and I don’t know if I should talk to her, confess, or bury it forever.

So Reddit… AITA for not being able to treat my best friend the same now that I’ve seen her in that way, even if she doesn’t know I know?

Oberyn Martell (Game of Throne)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for falling in love with the enemy and not telling her I originally used her to get revenge on her family?

I (41M) come from a family with blood in the streets and revenge in its bones. We’ve been at war with another family, let’s call them the Ls, for decades. The kind of feud where you don’t just destroy businesses, you burn bloodlines.

A while back, I met her. Let’s call her R (32F) and is the youngest from that said family. She walked into a neutral club downtown like she owned it, and every man in the room turned to look. So did I. At first, I saw an opportunity. I’m not proud of it but I’ll be honest, I wanted to get close to her to hurt her family. Seduce her. Use her. Break her heart. Maybe learn a few secrets along the way. That was the plan.

Except, it didn’t go that way.

She didn’t fall easily. She’s not some porcelain princess. She challenged me, even mocked me. Didn’t take any of my shit. And somehow, in all that fire and venom, I started wanting her. Not as a pawn. As a person. As mine. We've been seeing each other in secret for almost a year now. Behind closed doors, it’s real. It’s not a game. I bring her flowers. She brings me peace. She’s the only one who touches me like I’m a man, not a monster. And gods help me, I think I’d burn down my whole empire just to keep her safe.

But I haven’t told her the truth. That I used her at first. That I lied when I said I just "ran into her." That I walked into her life with a knife hidden behind my back and only dropped it once I realized I didn’t want to hurt her, I wanted to keep her. Now I’m stuck. If I tell her the truth, I risk losing her forever. If I don’t, I’m living a lie. Every time I touch her, I wonder if she’d still look at me the same if she knew what I was when this started.

So Reddit… AITA for not telling her? For falling in love with the one woman I was supposed to destroy?

Pero Tovar (The Great Wall)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to say yes when my boss’s daughter asked me to get her pregnant to avoid sleeping with her fiancé?

I know how that title sounds. Believe me, I’ve lost sleep over it.

I (late 30s M), am an ex-military, currently working in private security. I was hired by a very rich, very controlling man to be his daughter’s bodyguard. Let’s call her R (mid-20s, beautiful, clever, and way too good for this world or for me).

R’s family is old-money, traditional and practically treats her like a business asset. A few months ago, they arranged for her to marry some stiff in a suit who’s more in love with her father’s power than with her. She doesn't love him, she’s made that clear. And now her family is pushing for kids. Like, very soon. Like, contracts signed and wedding night kind of pressure.

I’ve seen the way she looks after long meetings. Like she’s drowning. I’ve heard her cry in her room when she thinks no one’s listening. But I didn’t expect what she asked me. She pulled me aside yesterday. Calm, serious and no games. She said she couldn’t go through with letting a stranger own her body. That if she had to have a child, she wanted to choose the father. Someone she trusted. Someone she felt safe with. Someone like me. She said she wouldn’t expect anything else. No strings. No relationship. Just this one thing. And god help me, I want to say yes.

Because I’ve been falling for her since day one. Quietly. From the shadows. I was hired to protect her, not touch her, but every time I see her, I want to pull her away from all of this. From her family. From the cold fiancé. From the life she never chose.

But if I say yes, am I crossing a line? Taking advantage of her desperation? If I say no, I keep things clean, professional but I leave her alone in something that clearly terrifies her.

So Reddit… AITA for wanting to say yes when she asked me to give her something real in a life full of things she never chose?

Reed Richards (Fantastic 4)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for constantly arguing with my scientific rival, even though I might actually be in love with her?

Let me start by saying I’m not great with emotions. Equations? Fine. Quantum mechanics? My playground. Human connection? That’s where I fall apart.

I (40M) work in advanced theoretical physics, and I’m fairly well-known in my field. A few years ago, a new name started popping up in peer-reviewed journals. Let’s call her R (34F). She’s brilliant, bold and completely unapologetic. And somehow, infuriatingly, smarter than me in areas I used to dominate.

We met at a symposium and things escalated. What began as subtle jabs turned into full-blown intellectual warfare. Debates in front of panels. Arguments in laboratories. Petty rebuttals in published work. To everyone else, we’re rivals, frenemies at best, sworn enemies at worst.

But here’s the part no one knows, I don’t hate her at all.

In fact, I admire her more than anyone I’ve ever met. She challenges me. She keeps me on my toes. And, God help me, she’s gorgeous when she’s yelling at me about my “antiquated entropy model.” I’ve even found myself intentionally provoking her just to see the fire in her eyes. The problem? I’ve backed myself into a corner. I’ve spent so long acting like she’s my nemesis that I don’t know how to flip the script. I can’t just say, “Hey, I know I’ve spent the last three years criticizing your work in front of Nobel committees, but want to grab dinner sometime?”

She probably does hate me. Or worse, she sees me as a childish competitor who can’t handle being challenged by a woman. And maybe that’s not entirely wrong.

So Reddit… AITA for keeping up the act? For pretending to hate her when in reality I can’t stop thinking about her? I don’t even know if she’d take me seriously if I tried to be honest now. Or is it too late to change the rules of the game?

Tim Rockford (Merge Mansion)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for developing feelings for a witness in a murder case even though I’m the lead investigator and she’s the victim’s wife?

I know how it sounds. I hate that I’m even writing this. But here we are.

I (M, 40s) work in law enforcement, been doing it a long time. I’ve seen the worst of people. I’ve interviewed killers with no soul behind their eyes, and families so broken by grief I had to go sit in my car afterward and just breathe.

Then came her.

Let’s call her R (30s F). She was the wife of the man we found shot dead in their home. Brutal scene. She was there too, barely alive when we arrived. Beaten, bloodied and she fought like hell to survive. We think she wasn’t supposed to make it. Suspect must’ve thought she was dead when he fled.

We put her into a protective program while we sort this out. There’s still a threat, still pieces missing. And since I’m the lead on the case, I’ve been around a lot.

It started small, making sure she felt safe. Bringing her updates. Listening when she needed to talk about the past. Her husband wasn’t exactly Prince Charming. There’s a lot to unpack there. And somewhere along the line, I started seeing her as more than a witness. More than a case file. She’s sharp and resilient. The kind of woman who makes you want to be softer just standing near her. And she smiles at me, like she’s grateful I’m there, like she trusts me.

But here’s the thing: her husband just died violently. No matter how their marriage was, he’s gone and I’m the man investigating it. I’m supposed to be objective, professional. And I am, I swear I am. But I can’t lie to myself anymore and pretend I’m not catching feelings I shouldn’t. I haven’t acted on anything. I’d never cross that line. But the way she looks at me sometimes, I wonder if she feels it too.

So Reddit… AITA for wanting something with a woman who’s still technically grieving her dead husband, while I’m supposed to be the one protecting her?

[lunaandco]

anatomy studies; part one

pairing: pedri x ofc

summary: vic needs a model. pedri is very quick to offer his help, even if her brother does not approve.

taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia

masterlist // series masterlist // I do not take requests

Pedri ignored the conversation he was supposed to be having with Ferran just to stare at Victoria Casadó. She was currently arguing with her older brother about something, both of them standing a bit apart from the group. It was moments like this that Pedri could take advantage of, in order to avoid setting off Marc's protective instincts, that made it almost impossible for a guy to approach her.

Vic was a pretty girl, with long silky hair, the same colour as her brother—although she was not balding like he was. She was also a third year art student, so it wasn't uncommon for Marc to have to skip a boys night out because she had forced him to model for her.

Pedri would never understand why Marc complained so much about it, he would do anything to be looked at by Vic in any capacity.

"Stop staring," Ferrran said, not even looking at where his friend's gaze had been lost. "Marc is going to catch you and you're a shit liar. Everyone already knows you want to smash his sister, he won't take long to realise soon, too."

Pedri blushed furiously.

"I wasn't..." he protested. "I do not..."

"See? You suck at lying."

Ferran had that shit eating grin he only displayed when he knew Pedri could not argue with his teasing.

"Do you know what they are arguing about?" Pedrihad been caught in the traffic on his way to Lewandowski's house, and he had missed the beginning of the hangout.

"Vic needs an nude model for her next assignment and she does not want to use Marc."

"Why?" he asked. "She always uses Marc when she has to draw men."

"Exactly because of that. She needs a bit of variety. And, well, she's supposed to do a slghtly erotic piece. You might understand why she doesn not want her older brother to be the model."

Pedri blushed again.

"Then who..."

"She wanted to ask today if any of us would be down for it, but Marc doesn't—"

"Want any footballer getting any ideas," finished Pedri. It was too late for Marc. Pedri had already gotten many ideas.

He strolled around the garden, casually aproaching the siblings, pretending it was a total coincidence to meet them at that point.

"Hey, how are you two?" he asked, making eye contact with Vic. She smiled shyly.

"Actually, not too well, my brother is being annoying," she told him.

"Older brothers," Pedri sympathised with her struggle, dramatically rolling his eyes. "It's like they only know how to be annoying. What are you tormenting the poor girl with, Casa?"

"He doesn't want me to draw any of you," she puted, her honey colored eyes looking at him through her lashes. "But it's so boring to always paint him..."

"I can be your model," he offered, smiling. "Casa here knows how trustworhty I am, right?"

"Well, yes, but..."

Vic's squeal of happiness interrupted Marc's complaints.

"Thank you, Pedri!" she said, throwing her hands around his neck in a hug.

"But it's supposed to be nude!" protested Marc. Pedri winked at him.

"Don't worry. i'll take good care of her, I promise."

Marc clenched his jaw, but even he knew not to make a scene about somehting like this in Lewandowski's garden, with all the team and families around them. Meanwhile, Pedri enjoyed the warmth of Vic's body pressed against him for the duration of the hug, being exactly as interested on her as Marc feared.

💙❤️

Should I shave beforehand?

Pedri texted. Marc had refused to let him get Vic's number, but had allowed him to follow her on her private Insta, which meant he had now access to a couple of pictures o her. He might have put one of those as his lockscreen.

No. Vic replied. I actually would rather you had a little bit of hair. You know, to practice the shading.

Because of that Pedri left his chest hair alone, He made the trip to the Casadó's househould, his heart beating fast and his legs weaker than after a Champions League game.

Marc opened the front door for him. Pedri's heart dropped. He should have known that he would insist on not leaving then alone for the duration of the session.

"Marquito stop being so paranoid," Vic complaned when she saw that her brother was following Pedri inside of her room. "I'm not a Victorian maiden and he is not going to take away my virtue or some shit," she said. "Get lost or I'll tell mom you're sneaking your girlfriend at night. See what happens then."

Marc grumbled, but the thrat landed true, and he retreated slowly.

"I'm sorry for my brother, he just worrues one of you will break my heart or somehting."

"I can tell. HE cares a lot about you," Pedri said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"it gets asphixiating," Vic concluded. "I... I'm sorry, we can stop this if you're uncomfortable."

"Don't worry about it," Pedri said, but he was sweating nervously. What if Vic didn't like his body?

"I need you to take your clothes off," she explained. "All of them. You can lay on the bed if you want."

Pedri gulped, but took off his hoodie first, and then his pants. Vic had turned her back on him, giving him a modicum of privacy, while she sorted out her materials. Once he was completely nude, he sat on the soft bed.

Pedri felt like he was going to hell. He was laying in his crush's bed, completely naked and surrounded by her scent, something between oil paint and tulips, but he coukd not let her know how much it excited him.

Thinking of this moment, Pedri had not considered the possibility of getting a boner, but as Vic finally turned, he found himself beging his dick to cooperate.

"Is this alright?" he asked, acomodating his back against the pillow.

"Yes." Vic said. "But I need you to bend your leg... no the other one. That's it."

The arms were more complicated. Pedri did not understand Vic's directions, and she ended up having to swallow up he rshyness and move them exactly whener she wanted. Pedri pretended as if his skin wasn't crawling at hte thought of her touching him.

"If you're cold or need a break just tell me," Vic indicated as she finally settled on her desk and grabbed her sketchbook. "I'll be as quick as I can."

💙❤️

Pedri wasn't sure how long it took. Marc went into the room at least five times, with the excuse of bringing water and snacks, but Pedri knew he was just checking that nothing he didn't approve of happened.

The sunlight was gone and Vic was cracking her back.

"We're done," she said, standing up. "Here, she gave him the finished drawing, which made Pedri blush. He looked sexy. the body he had always considered too skinny, too bony to be actually atractive on its own, without the addded perk of his footballng ability, was now staring back at him, shaded in charcoal and looking as beautiful as ever.

"Thank you," he said. Even his dick, which had cooperated with him, thank God, looked pretty, nestled between his thighs. The hair she had told him not to shave reflected its coarse texture, even if Vic had not touched.

"I should be the one saying that," Vic joked awkwardly. "Here, you can have the sketches."

She gave him some sheets in which he could also recognise himself, albeit less detailed and the traces lighter.

"I mean it," he insisted. "Thank you."

Vic's eyes slid down the curve of his shoulder. After two hours of being profoundly stared at, one woukd think Pedri would have gotten used to Victoria's eyes upon him, but he still shivered.

"Shit, I am so sorry, you must be freezing!" she said, leaping back and picking up his clothes for him. "I am so sorry," she repeated, "I'll leave you so you can dress properly.

Pedri opened his mouth to say something, but his voice got caught on his thoat as the door of the room closed behind Vic.

He dressed quicly, and grabbed the sketches Vic had gifted him again. In the corner, scribbled, there was a phone number and a note.

Don't tell Marc.

[tabithatwo]

What do you think about the scene in ep1 where Shauna masturbates on her daughters bed while looking at pictures of her boyfriend? Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I found it disturbingly similar to younger Shauna sleeping with Jackie's boyfriend

Oh hey, so this response is like perhaps over a year late but someone else asked me about this and I remembered I had 3/4 of this response drafted so hi I’m here now lmao

Anon, I do NOT think you’re overthinking this scene. I actually think there is so much room to think about this scene that a thesis could be written on it. It’s so layered and an incredibly bold choice on the show’s part to include it. It is our introduction to adult Shauna, and I think that the creators of the show clearly felt that it was very important.

This scene made me so uncomfortable as a first time casual viewer that I actually tried to rationalize it away. I remember saying aloud to the person I was watching with “No, that has to be her own childhood bedroom, right? She must be, like, visiting her aging parents?” Clearly I was ignoring the very ridiculous set design of Callie’s room entirely lol, but my mind wanted to find a different explanation. And it took me a while to come around to really loving Shauna as a first time viewer of the show, in part due to how much that scene shocked me.

All that to say, it is absolutely reasonable to find yourself very uncomfortable when thinking about that scene, as many people say that they do when they’re proclaiming that they wish it didn’t exist in the show. But I don’t think that means the scene should be ignored by any means. That discomfort is the point of the scene. Shauna is such a fascinating character, because she swings back and forth from shockingly depraved and cruel, to heartbreakingly kind and loving. She draws both the audience AND the other characters into this unpredictable back and forth with her, and it is easy for us AND them to forget what she is truly capable of when she is in one of her sweeter moments. That is what makes her one of the most fascinating characters of all time to me.

Okay, now we can get into my personal interpretation of this scene. I have always felt it was about Jackie. I think that was clear early on, but, after s2 aired, having more information about Shauna’s relationship with Callie did impact my interpretation of the scene and solidify some suspicions I had.

Shauna clearly does not see Callie as her daughter in any traditional sense. She tells Lottie as much, that she never could fully believe Callie was real and hers. And we see, with increasing clarity as the show goes on, that Shauna views Callie as a peer more than anything. Shauna has both stunted development and difficulty expressing affection. We see her tell Callie that it would’ve been easier if she HAD just had sex with the cop. That’s a very strong indicator of their dynamic. Shauna just doesn’t have the capacity to mother Callie.

That is important context because, with the scene in Callie’s bedroom, Shauna is recreating the thing she used to do when she was young and Jackie was alive. I don’t think she is even thinking about the fact that it’s her daughter’s boyfriend or bedroom, because she doesn’t even really think of Callie as her daughter much of the time. It’s so complex and muddled and, you guessed it, uncomfortable!

In my opinion, people are NOT ready for the intricacies of the ways Callie is a Jackie proxy for Shauna to be developed further. Like the show is establishing it pretty heavily, and I think in a very compelling way, but if it goes down that road more explicitly I have a feeling that people are not going to be able to separate the WAYS in which Shauna sees Jackie in her, if that makes sense.

I think s2 did have some compelling threads of this. Shauna caring for the Jackie corpse doll and getting frustrated and “hurting” her with the ear coming off scene. Shauna not being able to protect her, initiating and endorsing the consumption of her, then hinting at having fears that she’d hurt the baby when she was pregnant, losing the baby, worrying that they’d do to the baby what they did to Jackie, twisting it so much that she can’t help but believe they ate the baby too.

She associated the baby with Jackie very heavily. And in doing so, I think she parentified herself to Jackie in a really fascinating way, like Jackie was her first failure.

If she couldn’t care properly for Jackie, who loved her so much (and became an actual martyr and saint to her), and she couldn’t care for her children who were absolute innocents, then she must be the epitome of horrible and she should squash those caring instincts bc clearly they aren’t actually Good, type shit. That’s how I feel like Shauna spirals into her destructive behavior.

So what happens here, imo, is that Shauna doesn’t really see any of her relationships clearly. I don’t think she consciously thinks of Jackie as The Girl She Was In Love With, and I don’t think she consciously thinks of Callie as her daughter most of the time. Shauna just thinks of them both as people she has loved and failed, as well as people who piss her the fuck off and make her feel trapped in a life she doesn’t want.

She sees a lot of Jackie in Callie, and she acts out in really horrifying ways throughout the entire show to try and gain control, and this scene is one of them. Shauna has always used sex as a way to reclaim control, even when it is absolutely insanely inappropriate, and often when it isn’t at all about actual pleasure. We see more of this in s2, when she BRINGS JEFF TO THE ART STUDIO OF THE MAN SHE KILLED AND FUCKS HIM THERE (that was fucking INSANELY risky and destructive). With masturbating on Callie’s bed, looking at a pic of her bf, Shauna is acting from the same place she was when taking Jeff from Jackie in a way, and I get why that’s uncomfortable to watch. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable, it is SUPPOSED to!

But I think that we are viewing it with so much more logic and thought than Shauna is capable of applying. We draw conclusions from it that are based on a sane person, and Shauna is far from that. I think Shauna is briefly recreating multiple feelings and motivations that drove her to sleep with Jeff as a teenager. The sexual side of things is so wholly Jackie driven, she is constantly seeking ways to feel the way she felt when she was creating that proxy sexual connection with Jackie that she verbatim discusses with Jeff (which is so crazy btw not over that scene). But the side that relates to Callie is driven purely by the frustration and anger. Again, I don’t think Shauna has consciously thought about ANY of it, but if I had to interpret the driving emotions, then I think those would be the most likely.

And I think what it says about Shauna is that she is not living in reality in the slightest. You can not overstate the lack of conscious thought that goes into her actions when she does these things. She is acting on pure impulse, and without any certainty that anything is actually real.

She breaks my heart and this convo about the masturbation scene is so interesting to me because YEAH, that was a ROUGH introduction! and it took me rewatches to allow myself to dig into her character and that’s the point tbh.

On instinct, people either see the actions clearly and hate her, or obscure them to the point of forgetting they happened and love her. But it’s much harder to reckon with them and dig in and come out still loving her.

(I truly can’t believe I have to say this, but I was recently introduced to the fact that yj incest shippers exist, so disclaimer: this is NOT meant to be taken as a romantic or sexual interpretation of Shauna and Callie’s relationship at all. In fact, when I say that I don’t think people are ready for detangling the WAYS in which Shauna sees Jackie in Callie this is exactly what I mean. I just assumed people would wrongly assume it was That and be horrified. I didn’t consider the opposite, and I would like to continue not considering the opposite, so I will prob block anyone who engages with this in that way simply bc I do not want to see it and this is my social media lol)

[that-wildwolf]

Went out for coffee with a friend today.

She's really into RP and is now in some Andromeda-based RP campaign so we talked about that. I know close to nothing about RP and I have never actually played through Andromeda aside from the multiplayer mode.

"Well," she says, "what's the point of RPing in Mass Effect it you're not gonna be a turian?"

I actually think that this is an extremely based take, provided you're into RP in the first place.

She goes on to explain that she can't draw her character and she refuses to use AI so she just looked up some random turians to find like the most basic generic average joe turian to use as a stand-in for her character.

She then shows me the pic of this generic random turian on her phone.

I look at the picture, and then I just sort of blankly stare at her for a while.

"That's Adrien Victus," I say. What else do I even say here.

"Oh." She's visibly confused because she probably has no idea who that is. It is starting to dawn on me that perhaps she is a more casual fan than I am. "Well he looks like an average turian, doesn't he? Like what you would imagine when you think of a turian. He's got very basic looking colony markings."

I nod, but I take a sip of my coffee to avoid shooting off my mouth and saying something about how this is the Primarch of Palaven and so even based on that rank he is very much not just an average turian.

I explain who that is. I can see it clicks for her when I mention he's from the third game. It's weird talking about Mass Effect with those translated names (she's never played in English) and even weirded to talk to someone who's clearly a casual fan when you're a deeply obsessed person. I have to pretend I'm normal about her not remembering this side character.

She shows me another picture of random turian NPC.

I bite my lip.

"That's Lorik Qui'in," I say.

[ghoulsverse]

Chapter Six: I Can't Feel You

3.7k words | [Tags] Mentions of Hydra PTSD | minor Wanda/Vision

Chapter Index | Ao3 Link

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“You’re not healing to handle your trauma, you’re healing to handle the joy that comes after.”

Avengers Compound: Floor 8 - 2 weeks later

It started with Natasha tossing a folded blanket into the empty room.

That was it.

No speech. No pressure. Just a quiet, familiar weight hitting the plain grey sheets and creaking the bed frame.

Aliah stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the blanket like it might be a trap.

Natasha didn’t look at her.

She was crouched beside the bed now, tugging at a too-tight corner of the fitted sheet like she had a personal vendetta against hospital corners.

“This one’s closer to the bathroom.” She said casually. “And there’s no elevator noise this far down the hallway. You’ll sleep better.”

Aliah didn’t answer right away.

Her fingers twitched at her elbows, like she was deciding whether to run or help.

Wanda watched from down the hall, arms full of extra pillows, and stayed silent.

“And my room is the next one over. In case you ever need.”

The room had been empty for years.

It wasn’t a guest room, not really.

Just a spare space on the shared floor… one Wanda had always assumed would turn into storage, or a meditation zone, or a reading nook they’d forget about halfway through.

But now... it had a purpose.

Now it had a girl standing at its threshold, torn between wanting a place of her own to belong and fearing she didn’t deserve one.

Natasha dropped the corner of the sheet with a satisfied grunt and stood up, dusting off her hands.

“You wanna grab the pillows?” She asked, not turning around.

There was a beat of hesitation.

Then Aliah moved.

Wanda smiled softly, stepping inside with the pillows that they’d been using on the couches.

She watched as Aliah made her way to the bed, fingers fumbling slightly with the edge of the pillowcase, too careful like she was afraid of ripping it.

Natasha didn’t comment.

Just helped without helping, gently flipping the pillow around so Aliah could place it in the space and place she wanted.

“Natasha and I were thinking of taking you out to go find things to decorate the room.”

Aliah looked at Wanda as she stepped next to her, arms crossed. Not in an intimidating way but rather a comfortable one.

“If not, we can show you some options online and we can order them from there if you don’t want to go out.”

“Decorate?” Aliah said, softly. She was running her hand over the sheets on the bed, staring at the room like it would fade to dust if she didn't.

Natasha sat down on the bed and smiled. “It’s yours now.”

Green eyes widened and snapped to the widow on the bed. Her eyes flicked between the two women who only gave her a knowing smile. “Mine?”

“Yup. We talked it over with Fury… You can stay with us permanently. Here. On this floor.”

Natasha reached for the young girl’s hand and sat her down on the bed with her. “You’ll have to train… learn to fight, and learn to use your magic properly.”

Wanda stepped forward too and leaned against the bed frame. “You can have pictures, drawings, even string lights, if you like those.”

Aliah didn’t answer right away.

She just looked around the room again, this time with a little more ownership.

Then, quietly. “I don’t know what I like yet.”

Wanda blinked.

Something about that sentence ached.

She opened her mouth… to say what, she didn’t know… but Natasha beat her to it.

“That’s the best part.” She said. “You get to figure it out.”

“How do I learn what I like?”

Natasha shared a look with Wanda who moved to sit on Aliah’s other side. “Well, you find out what you like by finding things you don’t like. Let’s start with color. Do you like yellow, like the sun?”

“It’s nice.”

“It’s nice but do you like it? Could you live with everything in the world yellow?”

Aliah, chuckles. “No.”

Natasha linked their fingers together and chuckled. “What about purple?”

“No. Also nice but no.”

Wanda lifts her hand and pulls the jumping fox again from her red mist, watching as Aliah smiles and begins to play with it. “What about red?”

White mist begins to mix with red… two pink dancing foxes jump around their arms.

“I like your red, and Tasha’s. Only with you.”

Both of them smile. And the foxes fade. Aliah’s smile turns solemn and she drops her free hand before she speaks again. “When I was allowed to have free time, after my treatments… Doctor Enez would take me above ground. I could walk outside and I would lay in the grass. I loved the smell... The color.”

“Green it is then.” Wanda’s voice cracked.

“And I like Fred.”

The widow chuckled. “Wanda told you his name?”

“No, he told me. He was thirsty.”

Natasha flopped backwards on the bed and sighed while the other two just giggled.

This was one of those moments that Aliah realized… this is how being normal is supposed to feel. This is how life is supposed to be.

It’s bittersweet in her mind. The childhood she was supposed to have, but also the good she has now.

Three days passed.

The tower remained still, unbothered by alarms or danger or anything that might demand urgency. The air had settled into something that almost resembled peace… not the real thing, but the kind that came from repetition.

Wake. Move. Pretend.

Repeat.

Aliah had settled into the spare room, slowly, carefully… like the walls might reject her if she unpacked too quickly. She didn’t decorate, didn’t ask for anything, but the door stayed slightly open at night, cracked just enough to let sound drift in. The emergency blanket that had once never left her shoulders now lived folded at the foot of the bed like a familiar ghost… always there, just in case.

Save for a small green teddy bear that laid on the pillows.

A gift from Clint.

That, for now, was enough.

Every morning began the same way… a soft knock at her door, and a mug left just inside. Natasha never said anything when she delivered it… just a silent offering of routine. Sometimes it was tea. Sometimes hot cocoa. Once, entirely without comment, it was coffee that Aliah was definitely too young to be drinking (a new rule Wanda had implemented). She’d looked at Natasha with wide eyes and the beginnings of a smile, and Natasha had simply walked away without a word, as if to say you’ve earned it.

Aliah hadn’t smiled at the mug.

But she had clutched it with both hands like it meant something.

And maybe it did.

Wanda, meanwhile, had returned to sharing her space with Vision.

He didn’t sleep the way she did… his body would power down beside her, humming with silent energy, always watching. Sometimes she wondered if he ever really turned off. He was present, always, with a kind word, a soft touch, a perfect mimicry of domesticity. He brought her tea before she could ask. He reminded her of meetings she forgot. He kept pace beside her in hallways like they were choreographed.

It wasn’t bad.

But it felt... rehearsed.

Like they were actors still stuck in the final scene of a play no one was watching anymore.

Wanda tried, because that’s what she was good at. She smiled. She laughed at his analysis of their synced schedules. She let him hold her hand even though the space between their palms sometimes felt too quiet. Too cold.

She told herself it was just an adjustment. She told herself the warmth would return.

And maybe it would.

Maybe.

By the fourth day, Aliah had started pulling away.

Not with anger. Not with fear.

Just… absence.

The kind that builds in inches, stepping out of the room when Vision entered, staying longer in the kitchen when he joined Wanda in the common area, gravitating toward Natasha’s voice like it was a safer frequency.

Wanda noticed.

She told herself it didn’t hurt.

Not at first.

On the fifth night, they all sat in the common room. Vision was beside her, politely critiquing the visual fidelity of the film they weren’t really watching. Natasha had taken her usual spot in the corner chair, one leg hooked over the side, casually recounting stories Wanda would’ve scolded her for if Aliah didn’t look so completely enthralled.

Aliah sat on the floor at Natasha’s feet, cross legged, a blanket across her lap. Her eyes were wide, her guard lowered in the way that only happened when Natasha spoke in that dry, matter of fact tone, telling her how to break a nose without breaking the rules.

She laughed. A real laugh. Short and sudden and so painfully unguarded that Wanda’s breath caught in her throat.

She hadn’t heard that laugh before.

And it wasn’t hers.

Vision looked over at her.

"Her laughter is remarkably similar to yours.” He said, like it was a compliment, like it meant something.

Wanda smiled.

She nodded.

But the sound… the echo of that laugh, wasn’t hers anymore.

Later that night, when the lights dimmed and the tower settled into its quiet hum, Wanda stood barefoot in the kitchen with her hands wrapped around a mug she hadn’t taken a single sip from.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there.

Time had stopped meaning much since Vision started sleeping beside her again… all soft smiles and curated warmth, offering her tea with perfect timing and never noticing when she didn’t drink it.

Her thoughts kept looping.

Not around what was said.

But around who had said it.

Aliah, sitting small on the edge of the couch, not angry, not bitter… just honest.

“I can’t feel him.”

The words had landed like a stone in water, and Wanda had felt every ripple since.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

Vision wasn’t supposed to be felt.

He was circuitry, light, synthetic life wrapped in borrowed flesh.

And yet Wanda had always felt him… even before the world fell apart. She could reach for his presence in a room and find it like a candle flame, steady and flickering just for her.

But now…

Now she wondered if that tether was really hers.

Or if it had always belonged to the Mind Stone.

She pressed her forehead to the cabinet above the sink, closing her eyes.

Aliah had her magic. Her mind. Her blood. Somewhere in her, chaos bloomed the same way it bloomed in Wanda… wild, unfinished, too powerful for the world to hold neatly.

And yet Aliah couldn’t sense him at all.

Didn’t want to.

Didn’t trust him.

Didn’t flinch from Natasha’s dry threats or deadpan stories, but looked at Vision like he was a ghost with manners.

Wanda’s fingers tightened around the mug.

She remembered how it felt to love Vision without doubt. How easy it was when grief had rewritten reality for her. How safe it had been to build a world where no one had to question what was real, because she said it was.

Now everything felt quiet.

Like the walls were waiting for her to admit something she didn’t want to say out loud.

In truth. She missed sleeping in the living room, with Aliah… and Natasha. Even on the couches that are becoming more stiff with time, they seemed to give her more comfort now than her bed does.

She exhaled slowly.

How long could she keep this up?

The smiles. The half laughter. The hand holding that no longer warmed her skin.

How long until Aliah stopped looking at her like she might be home?

How long until Wanda looked at Vision and didn’t even want to pretend?

Somewhere in the tower, the floor creaked. Natasha’s voice murmured something low and dry. Aliah laughed.. just once.

Wanda closed her eyes tighter.

Wanda didn’t hear Natasha come behind her.

She just... sensed her.

She didn’t look up right away, just kept her forehead pressed to the cabinet door and hoped she could pass for asleep standing up.

“You know you’re allowed to break down somewhere other than the kitchen.” Natasha said softly.

Wanda let out a dry breath. “I’m not breaking down.”

“That’s funny. You look like someone who just realized their favorite sweater doesn’t fit anymore.”

Wanda cracked a small smile, but it didn’t last.

“Or should I say my favorite jacket… doesn’t fit you anymore.”

She turned to face her.

Natasha leaned against the doorway, arms crossed… relaxed, but watching. Always watching.

“She said she couldn’t feel him.” Wanda murmured.

Natasha’s gaze didn’t shift. “You mean Vision.”

Wanda nodded. “She said it like... like that should’ve meant something.”

“Didn’t it?”

Wanda looked away.

That was answer enough.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

The quiet between them was thick, but not hostile. Just heavy.

“She trusts you.” Wanda said after a beat. “Aliah.”

Natasha didn’t blink. “She trusts you, too.”

“No.” Wanda said. “Not the same way. Not anymore.”

Natasha pushed off the wall and moved into the kitchen, her steps soft but certain. She didn’t reach out. Didn’t crowd. She just stood next to Wanda, shoulder to shoulder.

Close enough to anchor. Far enough to respect space.

“She sees herself in you.” Wanda whispered. “In both of us. But with you… it’s easier. You don’t expect her to be okay.”

Natasha’s voice was quiet, but clear. “Neither do you.”

Wanda shook her head, jaw tight.

“I keep pretending that eventually she’ll be fine. With him. With all of this.” She gestured vaguely, like the whole Tower was complicit in her confusion. “And the longer I do, the more it feels like I’m making her angry. Like I’m just pretending to care.”

Natasha studied her for a moment, then looked down at the untouched mug on the counter. “You’ve never been good at pretending.”

Wanda huffed out a soft laugh. “That’s... objectively false.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t skilled. I said you’re not good at it. You wear masks like they owe you something. But we can all tell you care.”

The silence stretched again.

Wanda glanced over.

Natasha wasn’t watching the mug anymore.

She was watching her.

And the look on her face… steady, knowing, quietly devastating… made Wanda want to run and stay in the same breath.

“You don’t have to fix it all at once.” Natasha said finally. “Start small.”

“Like what?”

Natasha shrugged.

“Like stop assuming she’ll be okay. Stop guessing why she’s uneasy around him and maybe ask her why yourself.”

Wanda stared at her.

The silence that followed wasn’t cold.

But it was sharp. Daring.

Natasha turned away first. “Try to get some sleep, little witch.”

And then she was gone, quiet as she’d come. Leaving Wanda in the kitchen.

Alone again.

Avengers Training Room - 10:36 am

The gym floor smelled like rubber and recycled air. It always had. Wanda had never particularly liked this room… too many mirrors, too many ghosts.

But Aliah liked it.

Or at least, she didn’t flinch when Natasha brought her here.

From the far corner, Wanda watched as Aliah squared off in front of Natasha, knees slightly bent, fists tucked in tight near her chest like she was trying to make herself smaller and stronger at the same time.

“Lower your stance.” Natasha instructed, tapping the outside of Aliah’s foot with her own. “You want to be a wall. Not a tent in the wind.”

Aliah adjusted immediately, copying the movement with quiet precision.

Wanda didn’t say a word.

It started with a request… just one.

Aliah had asked if Natasha could ‘show her how to fight without magic’. Like Natasha did. It was phrased like a joke, but there’d been something raw underneath it.

Natasha hadn’t laughed.

She just nodded once and said. “We’ll start with your footing.”

That was three days ago.

Now they trained in short, focused bursts. No long lectures. No drills. Just repetition and quiet correction.

It was working.

And Wanda was starting to hate that it was working without her.

Aliah moved through the steps again… jab, pivot, elbow reset.

She didn’t ask if it was right.

She just watched Natasha’s face, waiting for a nod or a slight tilt of the chin.

It came.

And the smallest smile flickered across Aliah’s face before she caught it and shoved it back down.

Wanda felt that smile more than she saw it.

And it stayed in her chest like a bruise.

The worst part?

Wanda wasn’t needed here.

She wasn’t expected to be.

There was no panic. No rescue to orchestrate. No reality to rewrite.

Just... two people who had found something solid to hold on to.

And Wanda, quietly fading from the frame.

Natasha glanced over once… just once, and met her eyes.

The look wasn’t cruel.

It was a look of shared pride.

And Wanda, standing in the doorway like an extra in her own story, nodded back.

Because she had nothing else to give.

Later, Aliah would walk out of the gym with sweat on her brow and a quiet pride in her step.

Wanda found her in the hallway that afternoon.

Aliah was sitting cross legged near the window in the living area of their floor, arms folded over her knees, head resting on them. The floor lamp nearby cast a dim golden halo around her, like she was the last flicker of warmth left in the tower.

She looked up when Wanda approached but didn’t unfold.

Didn’t run. Just smiled.

Wanda stopped a few feet away, unsure how close she was allowed to be now.

“You okay?” She asked gently.

Aliah shrugged. “Fred needed some company, and I like watching the sunset.”

Wanda lowered herself to sit beside her, keeping a respectful gap between them.

“I watched you train today.” She said after a moment. “You’re getting good. Fast.”

Aliah let out a soft breath… not quite a laugh. Just enough to say she’d heard it.

“I don’t know if I’m good.” She said quietly. “I just... I don’t want to feel weak anymore.”

Wanda’s heart twisted. “You’re not weak.”

“I don’t mean like that.” Aliah’s voice was small, but certain. “I mean... I don’t want to freeze up. Or flinch. I don’t want people to look at me and think I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Wanda nodded slowly. “I get that.”

A pause.

“Do you want to come watch a movie with me? Just us?”

Aliah didn’t answer right away. She just smiled and nodded. “Can we finish watching those wild west movies you showed me?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” She turned to leave.

That should’ve been the end of it.

But the elevator dinged… soft, too perfectly timed… and Vision stepped out.

He spotted Wanda immediately, then Aliah, and smiled politely.

“Good evening.” He said. “I was just coming to see if you wanted to read together, Wanda. I found a translated copy of that Sokovian poetry volume you mentioned last week.”

Wanda smiled automatically.

Not because she meant it.

Just because she always did.

“That sounds great, Vis. Maybe later though. We were just–”

Aliah stood quietly and stepped back toward her room.

She didn’t say goodbye.

Didn’t look back.

But her footsteps quickened just a little when Vision got closer.

Wanda watched her disappear behind the door.

And then looked at Vision. Disdain pulling behind her eyes.

And wondered… not for the first time… how much of her life was built around not making anyone uncomfortable.

Even herself.

The room was dark, lit only by the soft gold glow of the floor light Vision insisted was ‘optimal for nighttime recharging’.

He lay beside her… still, silent, resting with perfect posture and hands folded over his chest like someone waiting to be admired.

He didn’t snore.

Didn’t twitch.

Didn’t shift to steal the blanket.

He was, in every measurable way, the ideal presence.

And Wanda had never felt more alone.

She lay on her side, staring at the edge of the nightstand. The digital clock blinked 2:14. Again. Again.

Sleep didn’t come.

Not because she was scared.

But because she wasn’t sure what she’d dream about.

And even worse… who she’d see there.

Vision shifted slightly, powering down further.

It was subtle… A gentle drop in the humming pitch that always buzzed at the edge of her hearing. A soft weight of his arm on her waist as he slipped further into rest mode and made himself comfortable.

She didn’t move.

“I can’t feel him.”

Aliah’s voice came back again, soft and unblinking, echoing in Wanda’s mind like a question no one had answered.

She had said it without judgment.

Just a fact.

She couldn’t feel him.

And now, lying here in this bed they’d shared for years, Wanda wasn’t sure she could anymore either.

There had been a time she felt tethered to him… to his presence, his rhythm, his impossible kindness. That connection had once felt like hope. Like safety.

But now...

Now she reached for him with her magic, just a flicker, a feel… and found him.

No hum of chaos. No mirror to her soul.

Just something built. The feeling she used to take comfort in, that she used to see as just him. It now felt like a false promise.

And maybe… just maybe… something she’d built up to fill a space that had never really been filled at all.

Yet she still cared for him.

That was the hardest truth.

There was love here… or something close to it. Familiarity, at least. Comfort.

But it didn’t hold her like it should anymore.

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, fingers curled against her own stomach like they were holding her together.

She closed her eyes. Tried not to cry.

Not because it hurt.

But because she couldn’t name why it hurt.

“You don’t have to fix it all at once.” Natasha had said.

“Start small.”

Wanda exhaled shakily.

Maybe tomorrow she'll start.

But tonight, she laid beside the man she had once bent the world to keep.

Only now it felt hollow.

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