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

[stayycalm]

i have a Request! could you write a little short about Hyunjin and Fem Reader? maybe something where Reader is in paris and taking picture of the beautiful scenery and ends up taking a picture of Hyunjin? but like they dont notice till they are back at their hotel? and then they are admiring the beautiful stranger and they cant sleep so they go out on their balcony to look at the beautiful lights but little do they know a wandering Hyunjin is outside looking for inspiration for drawing/paintng and when he sees a mysterious figure on a balcony hes enthralled by their silhouette? he hurries back to his room and begins to sketch right away and he wonders who the beauty was, and then they end up meeting? sorry this is long but i really want to know how you'd write this!!

ok, first of all, I want to deeply apologize, anon, because I'm just now finding this ask??? it's been in my inbox for a year?? so please accept my deepest apology and enjoy this! 😭

Drawn to You by stayycalm

The streets of Paris hum with life as I sling my trusty Canon Rebel T7 over my shoulder, ready to conquer my ambitious agenda. Two weeks here, and yet, the city’s allure hasn’t dulled a bit. Every street corner, every café, every wrought-iron balcony layered with Gothic spires or curving Art Nouveau façades feels like a treasure to an aspiring architect like me.

On this second-to-last day, I’m determined to make the most of it. The itinerary, planned by a finance teacher who wouldn’t know a flying buttress from a baguette, has been criminally devoid of exploration. I mutter under my breath, “How can anyone come here and not explore?”

I pause at Pont Alexandre III, lifting my camera to capture the graceful curve of a bridge flanked by its gilded statues, glowing in the soft morning light. Click. I take another, angling for the perfect shot of a bride crossing with her billowing white train, the Eiffel Tower rising in the distance.

As the day unfolds, I let my instincts guide me. From the serene paths of the Tuileries Gardens to ornate windows with their curved frames, I capture it all. Then, just as the sun begins to dip low, its golden light casting long shadows across the city, I find myself facing the Eiffel Tower. Its iron lattice glows with a warmth that takes my breath away. I can’t help but do a little happy dance as I check the shot in my viewfinder, triumphant.

A text buzzes from my phone, snapping me out of my euphoria. It’s my roommate, letting me know she’s heading back to the hotel. Sighing, I tuck my phone away and begin the trek back.

Later, I sit at the desk in our room, my hair wrapped in a towel from a much-needed shower. My laptop hums softly as I transfer the day’s photos. One by one, they fill the screen, and my excitement grows with every frame. I start editing, erasing stray tourists and clutter from the pristine geometry of my shots, until I reach the final picture.

My fingers hover over the trackpad as I zoom in on a figure in the background. He’s leaning casually against the bridge railing near the Eiffel Tower, his silhouette partially lit by the fading sunlight. His dark hair falls just past his shoulders, and his profile—what little I can see—is striking.

“Wow…” The word escapes me, barely a whisper.

“What are you oooh-ing over?” My roommate’s voice startles me. She emerges from the steamy bathroom, her towel-turbaned head tilting as she raises an eyebrow at me.

I jolt, fumbling to close the photo. “Oh, you know… buildings.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Only you could get off to a building.”

I snort, but the heat rises to my cheeks. Turning back to the laptop, I save my edits and close it, needing an escape. “I’m stepping out for a sec,” I announce, grabbing a cardigan and slipping out to the balcony.

The air is cool, and the city stretches before me, a sea of glittering lights. With the sun gone, Paris seems transformed into a constellation fallen to earth, each light twinkling like a star. I lean against the stone railing, letting the sight fill me.

It’s moments like these that make Paris feel like a dream—a city so alive, yet timeless. A city of romance, indeed.

Hyunjin's POV

The sharp click of my shoes against the marble echoed through the Versace store as I stepped out, the heavy glass doors swinging open. A wave of flashing lights greeted me, relentless and blinding, a cacophony of voices calling out my name—professional photographers and STAY alike. It was always surreal, this paradoxical familiarity. I didn’t know a single face in that sea of people, yet they all knew me, or at least the version of me they thought they knew.

My lips curled into a smile, practiced but genuine in its intent. The sunglasses resting on the bridge of my nose shielded my eyes, but they couldn’t hide my gratitude. I raised a hand, waving to the crowd before blowing a kiss into the air. The gesture elicited a cheer, a ripple of excitement that followed me until I ducked into the sleek black car waiting at the curb.

Inside the car, the energy of the crowd faded, replaced by the hum of the engine and the muted bustle of Paris beyond the tinted windows. When we pulled up to the hotel, I took a moment to shed the Versace image. Gone were the statement pieces; in their place, a plain hoodie, jeans, and sneakers.

Tonight, I wasn’t Hyunjin, the idol, the "Versace prince." Tonight, I was just Hyunjin—an artist looking for inspiration in the heart of Paris.

The city’s streets welcomed me with their usual charm: cobblestone paths, golden streetlights, and the murmur of life flowing seamlessly between its residents and visitors. It should’ve been easy—a city as alive as Paris practically begged to be captured in art. Yet, as I wandered through alleyways, past street performers and cafés spilling over with laughter, nothing reached out to me. The fire I sought remained elusive, a spark I couldn’t ignite.

The Eiffel Tower loomed in the distance, its iron frame bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun. I found myself on a bridge, leaning against the railing as I stared out over the Seine. The water reflected the dying light in shimmering streaks, and the Tower cast a long shadow over the city.

“Where are you?” I muttered under my breath, the question aimed at no one in particular. A sigh escaped me as I pushed off the railing, shaking my head. Inspiration had never been this difficult to find before.

By the time the sun had dipped completely below the horizon, Paris transformed into a city of light. Neon signs buzzed, music drifted from open windows, and the streets teemed with energy. But even in the midst of all this vibrancy, I felt disconnected. My steps slowed as I glanced around one last time, taking in the tourist shops and the occasional artist sketching caricatures on the sidewalk. Still, nothing.

Frustration prickled at my skin. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. When I opened my eyes again, I froze mid-step.

She stood on a balcony a few stories above me, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the room behind her. Her head was tilted upward, as if catching the glimmer of the city’s lights on her skin. Her hair moved with the breeze, framing a face so serene it made my chest tighten. The faint flush on her cheeks, the way her lips curved ever so slightly—it was as if she belonged to this moment, this city, more than anyone I’d ever seen.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. I drank in the sight of her, committing every detail to memory. Then, a voice called her from inside, and she turned, disappearing into the room. I waited, hoping she’d reappear, but the balcony remained empty.

Shaking my head, I forced myself to move. My steps were quicker now, my heart racing with something I couldn’t quite name. By the time I returned to my hotel room, the feeling had morphed into a need—a compulsion. I rolled up my sleeves, grabbed my charcoal pencils, and approached the easel I’d set up by the window.

The lines came easily, flowing from memory to paper as if she’d etched herself into my mind. The curve of her lips, the slope of her nose, the way her hair had danced in the wind—each stroke brought her closer to life. I worked with a fervor I hadn’t felt in weeks, adjusting, refining, until the figure on the page mirrored the one that had captivated me.

I stepped back, studying the sketch. She was there, but she wasn’t. I’d captured her image but not the essence—not yet. The fire was back, though, and I felt alive for the first time. In what felt like forever.

rubbed my eye, trying to wipe away the sleepiness threatening to overtake me as I leaned against the wall with the rest of my group. Whoever decided that 4 a.m. was a good time to fly needs to be smacked. Hard. My eyelids started to get heavy, and I began to nod off when a voice called over the loudspeaker announcing that first class for our flight could begin boarding.

I groaned and smacked my head against the wall, wincing at the dull throb that now pulsed in my temple.

"What's wrong with you?" my roommate asked, poking my side from the chair she sat in.

"I didn’t get much sleep last night," I grumbled, swatting her hand away and rubbing the sore spot on my forehead. In reality, I didn’t sleep at all. My mind kept thinking about the beautiful stranger in that photo. Was he a tourist? What was his name? Was he that beautiful up close? These were the questions that kept me awake until we had to head to the airport, where I now stood miserably as the wealthy boarded the plane first.

"Screw the rich..." I muttered under my breath, running both hands down my face. Once it was our turn to board, my group got in line. I handed the stewardess my boarding pass. She scanned it, frowned slightly, then scanned it again, her brows furrowing. A pit grew in my stomach.

"Oh no," I thought as her eyes darted over the words on her screen. She turned her gaze to me and spoke. "I’m sorry, miss, but it seems we double-booked your seat..."

I felt like I was going to throw up. My face must have turned even paler as she continued typing on her keyboard.

"But it looks like I can bump you up to business class, if that’s alright with you," she said.

My sleep-deprived brain barely processed her words. I just stared at her for a moment as she added, "Free of charge, of course, for the trouble."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, unable to form words. She printed a new boarding pass, handed it to me, and waved me through. I found our professor and gave him the update. He gave me a thumbs-up before pulling on his headphones and lowering his eye mask.

I made my way to the business class section, searching for my seat. It was in the middle row, meaning I had another seat next to mine. But when I saw the amount of space I had, I didn’t care—as long as my neighbor didn’t mind if I snored a little. I plopped down into my seat after putting away my carry-on. Letting out a sigh, I pulled the provided blanket over myself, turned to one side, and drifted off to sleep before we even took off.

I woke up to the hostess asking if I needed anything to eat or drink. Blinking my eyes, I regained consciousness and asked for water and a snack. Once I had both, I sat up a little and took in the seat I was in. It was almost like a mini cubicle with a small folding table and a TV screen. To my left was the divider between me and my neighbor, who was busy drawing something on a sketchpad. I couldn’t see his face clearly because of the mask, hat, and headphones he wore.

My attention shifted back to my snacks as I pulled out my laptop to get started on more editing. At some point, I fell asleep again but woke up before they came around to deliver more food.

"Thank you," I whispered to the steward, who smiled and nodded before moving on.

"That’s a beautiful picture," an accented voice said behind me. I whipped around to see my neighbor looking at my laptop.

"Oh, thank you," I said shyly, setting my food down. I tried to ignore the flutter in my chest from his compliment as I continued to work. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him shuffle and take off his headphones and hat, but I averted my eyes before he caught me peeking. To distract myself, I clicked on the picture of the stranger and zoomed in slightly.

My neighbor made a choked sound. When I looked back at him, his wide eyes were glued to my screen.

"Are you okay?" I asked. He looked at me, then back at the screen.

"That’s me," he said, pointing to the photo.

My gaze darted to the picture and then back to him, my eyes narrowing. "What are you—" But before I finished, he took off his mask, and the words died in my throat.

Here, next to me on this very plane, was the reason I couldn’t sleep last night. I sat there, mouth open in shock, as he looked at me with an odd expression.

"Are you serious?" I asked.

He nodded. "Why do you have my picture?"

"I wasn’t taking YOUR picture." I clicked to expand the photo. "I was taking a picture of the Eiffel Tower."

His eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed red. "Oh..." His voice was soft as he apologized.

I nodded, and we sat in awkward silence for a moment.

"What are you drawing?" I asked, trying to ease the tension, pointing at his sketchpad.

He blushed more, tilting the pad toward me. "It’s just a sketch of a woman I saw last night," he muttered, avoiding my gaze. The whole time we’d talked, he hadn’t fully looked at me. I wondered if there was something wrong with my face. But when my eyes roamed over the drawing, I tilted my head in confusion.

"She looks an awful lot like me," I chuckled, knowing that wasn’t possible. But his eyes snapped to me, then back to his drawing. His mouth opened in wonder.

"Were you staying at Hotel de la Tour Eiffel?" he asked.

My laughter died. "Yeah... How did you—" My eyes widened as we both looked at his drawing. It was me.

"Holy crap," I muttered as he shook his head in disbelief. We looked at each other again.

"I can’t believe I found you," we said in unison.

We spent the rest of the flight chatting quietly about everything and anything. Soon, we were landing, and a wave of sadness hit me. I’d never see him again. Once it was our row’s turn to exit, I grabbed my things and turned to him.

"It was nice to meet you, Hyunjin," I said with a soft smile before slowly making my way down the ramp and into the terminal. As I stood off to the side waiting for my group, I heard my name being called. I looked around to see Hyunjin waving at me.

When he reached me, he blushed, clearly embarrassed. "Sorry about that. I just..." He took a deep breath. "Can I have your number?"

I gave him a shy smile and nodded. The smile he gave me made butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I thought to myself, I might have brought home something better than pictures.

[jockw]

[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.

[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

[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.

[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)

[kissitbttr]

a sweet moment of frat!miguel and muñeca that we rarely get to see

to miguel, relationships are complex.

he’s not built for one and never meant to. the idea of having to commit to one person when he still wants to have fun sounds like a real torture. the constant clinging and demands of going out on dates just enough to make him scowl. like what’s the point of it all? spending money on gifts or valentines dates just seem to be a waste of time.

until she entered the picture. gone were the days where his money were spent on booze and gears.

now, he’s having the ultimate pleasure of spoiling his girlfriend, walking her to classes, stay during cheerleading practice and begging her to stay over at the frat house. all that he did out of consciousness,

even curating the image of what their wedding would look like in the future.

yeah. that much.

the couple decides to have a small picnic at the campus park during their free period. whereas the rest of the students are busy with studying and walking from building to building, these two lovers find the spare time to be with each other.

“i love hibiscus flowers. they’re pretty” muñeca mentions, laying on her side with palm supporting the head. “sunflowers too—much better than a rose”

miguel fixes himself a smile upon his beautiful girlfriend, deciding to mirror her action by laying on his side as well. “how abouut cake flavor, cariño?”

she looks over at him and the sight is making her drool. the shirt that he’s sporting compliments his rippling muscles, not to mention the few unbuttons at the top showcasing a bit of his chest hair and gold chain around the neck.

“are you going somewhere with this?” she questions with a smile, seeing him shrug,

“just asking” he replies, eyes staring intently into hers. “i want to know what my girl likes—because if she mentions vanilla then i’m out”

muñeca giggles, head shaking at the ridiculous assumption. “i would never!” miguel grins even wider hearing the sound of that laugh. “i love red velvet—and anything fruit infused desserts”

he nods, making a mental note on that one. “what if I prefer chocolates?”

“then we can have both” she answers casually, hand sneaking through its way towards the slope of his calloused one. “chocolates and raspberries are good combo, anyway—not white or milk chocolates though. dark is the way”

“that’s my girl” miguel praises, his thumb drawing circles around her skin. “i love this dress on you, by the way—wear it often”

“you say that pretty much about everything i wear miggy!” she smiles, kissing his jaw. “you’re biased”

“is it my fault that my girlfriend looks good in everything?” he asks as if he’s proving his innocence, tightening the hold of his hand around hers, “got the prettiest girl on campus by my side and there’s no way i’m missing the chance to let her know how hot she is”

her cheeks warm at the compliment, looking down momentarily to hide the large grin that’s threatening to break through, “you just want to fuck me” it’s a joke,

“is it working?” he jokes back with a raised eyebrow, earning himself a punch on the shoulder making him grunt and laugh, “caray, ma!—you sure got some strength in you”

“thanks to my handsome linebacker’s workout routine” she winks, curling a loose hair around his forehead,

“put me in a headlock next, i beg of you” he says, and she can’t tell if he’s really joking or serious but she wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter,

“ugh! you’re so unserious sometimes!”

they both share a laugh after. “okay back to question number—five!” he picks a chocolate covered strawberry with his free hand off the plate and pop it in his mouth. “dream destination?”

her lips curl into a thinking mode and so are her eyebrows, clutching their interlocked hand against her chest. “hmm—bali, malaysia, and rome”

miguel hums, nodding as he looks down. she tilts her head to the side with confusion written all over her face, watching him. “what is this, intervention?”

“what, no. can’t a guy ask his girl a few things to get to know her better?”

“miggy, we fuck at least three times a day, i think we already went past that kind of formalities” she rolls her eyes playfully, seeing how he shrugs innocently and grin. “so? what is this about? first it was about my favorite decorations, second it’s about my favorite dish and drinks of choice and then third, and fourth—“ she trails off, watching the shy smile on his face appears as he avoids her gaze,

“what?” she asks confused, yet his smile is contagious and that makes her smile too,

“just thinking about how everything would look like for our wedding someday”

“a wedding?”

“y-yeah” he scratches the back of his neck nervously, “i’m making notes, you know? i trust them all with you, muñeca—want you to handle everything”

her heart somehow blooms in her chest, gaze softening when he mentions about marriage. tying a knot. living happily ever after. with her.

she feels the little girl inside of her is squealing at the thought of a prince charming asking her for a hand. like ones she read on fairy tales and bedtime stories.

he wants to marry her

upon hearing no response, he feels the embarrassment creeping in as he gulps, his hand trembling slightly at the thought of being rejected. he would probably cry if she told him that she doesn’t see the future together.

“look you don’t—“

“baby” she coos, her hand moving to cup his face. “you want to marry me?”

he feels somehow at ease when he hears the tone of her voice, realizing that he may not look like an eager idiot whom he thought he’d be in front of her, “i do” his response is firm and set. “do you?”

the way he’s looking at her with hopeful eyes makes her wish that they’re both alone right now, just so she could straddle his lap and smother him with kisses. but seeing that they’re not and at a public space, especially on campus, she’s holding herself back.

instead of that, she cups his face before leaning in for a kiss. miguel sighs into her mouth, kissing her back with much more passion as he snakes a hand around her waist. the kiss is somehow becoming more intense and hungry. he then moves himself to move on top of her in swift motion, making her giggle at his enthusiasm.

what’s supposed to be a simple kiss, turns into a heavy makeout session. she squeezes both his shoulders as a gesture to take it easy, not wanting the head of security to catch them in the act. again.

miguel huffs when she pulls away, but the taste of her lips remains to be the reason why a lovesick smile attached on his features.

“of course i do” she replies, “just make sure that the ring is ready after we graduate, o’hara” and miguel will hold onto that. he will buy the most expensive and prettiest ring ever for her.

she swears that the love she has for him is bigger than anything. he had changed a lot for the better and she couldn’t be more proud. miguel had learned so many things during the times he had shared with her, and it would be so crazy to think that she didn’t bring any positive impact in his life.

her existence is the key of him growing. not just love but as a person as well. and he would argue to hell and back with anyone just to prove the point of his gratitude to her will always be bigger than this girl,

none of these two lovers knew what fate had in stored for them. to have a committed relationship with someone wasn’t in either’s bucket list, let alone getting married. but everything seems to have changed.

before this, they didn’t even know each other. there had been a time where miguel didn’t know muñeca exist and vice versa. and there’s some sort of twinge rattle in his chest, knowing that someone else could be loving her instead of him.

he doesn’t like that. at all.

the negative thought that plagued into his mind somehow gets pulled when he feels her soft padded thumb traces his lower lip. his pupils dilating when he looks at her, with the pretty smile that he never gets tired of. seeing that often makes his heart fail to find a steady rhythm.

gaze in her eyes speaks so kindly to him. a look in which helps to remind him that she belongs to him and so does he to her. and miguel finds himself exhale a breath of relief yet once again.

‘she is so unbelievably gorgeous and all mine’

[hellsburners]

best mistake

summary: you're new york's hero: spider-man. your roommate peter is the brains behind it all and the love of your life and he doesn't even know it. pairing: tasm!peter parker x male reader word count: 1.6k warnings: unprotected s3x, blowjobs, casual hooking up. a/n: i'm back? (based on this amazing prompt)

masterlist | more peter parker

Peter hears a loud thud from his window. It was dark outside, the clock on his desk reading past midnight, the city more quiet. 

He peers on the glass, a dark figure resting its head on the pane. He gently lifts the window, your body slumping on his arms, your face bruised and bloody. He carries you to the bed, your suit all tattered and dirtied. Peter runs to the bathroom to get a basin of warm water and a towel. 

He takes his time to wipe the blood from your face, gently wiping it on your soft skin, and brushing your hair away from your face. His eyes wander to your face, a familiar one, a face he’s seen ever since he was a kid, but now much older.

He takes the medical kit under his bed, gently moving you so he can remove your ruined suit. His calloused skater hands brush your chest with the damp cloth, scrubbing away the dried blood crusting your wounds. He applied a salve on some of the cuts to prevent infection, the bigger gashes he stitched. 

The two of you have been doing this for eight years now. You, the web-slinger, protector of the city, while Peter, the brains behind your crusade. He came up with the idea of making the web-shooters, his bio-engineer degree with your experience as a research scientist in aerophysics helped hand-in-hand in keeping the city safe. 

You turned in your sleep, groaning from the pain. “Hey, easy up tiger your wounds are still fresh,” he said, helping you prop yourself up on his bed. 

“How long have I passed out?” you said, noticing your suit was pulled down to your waist. 

“Just a couple of minutes,” he said. “Saw you on the TV.”

“Yeah, that Electro guy short-circuited my web-shooters,” 

“About that, I sketched up a new prototype that could be resistant to his attacks,” he said, gesturing at his messy table with his new creation. “I also made some tweaks on the web fluid, I increased the tensile strength so they can withstand greater velocities.” 

Peter’s eyes glimmered as he talked about the new shooters. Your mouth lifted into a smile as he continued to ramble. “What do you think?” he said, “Did you even listen?”

“Yeah—increased tensile strength blah blah,” you uttered. “How’s the job hunt by the way?”

“Terrible. I did sell some pictures to the bugle,” he said. “Jameson gave me $350.”

“$350? That’s not even enough for groceries and the electricity bill.”

“Well it’s better than nothing,” he said, taking his glasses off. “I saw Gwen earlier.”

Oh. Peter’s high school ex. You diverted your gaze away from his, finding the city lights outside the window was a distraction. You felt your chest tighten, your heartbeat much louder. 

For the fifteen years you’ve known Peter Parker, you’ve also fallen in love with him. The two of you have shared some casual encounters here and there but you knew it was never serious. So the idea of him meeting his greatest love made you uncomfortable. 

Peter noticed the way your attention left his, your eyes hooded as you stared far away. He noticed your hand clutch on the sheets, your jaw clenched. “She got engaged recently,” your muscles relaxing. Oh, you said. “Yeah, to some rich socialite from the Upper East Side.”

“Good for her,” you whispered. 

“Have you thought about something like that?”

“Marrying a rich man?” you chuckled. 

“No, just marrying,” he uttered, the corner of his lips lifting north. His fingers trace your skin, drawing circles. You let him. 

“Not at all. I guess I’m gonna be broke my whole life,” you try to get up, your back betraying you. You stagger for a bit, your hand finding Peter’s shoulder for stabilization. He stands as well, his large hands around your bare waist. 

Your breaths were close—too close. You could feel his heat, his warm musky scent, his brown eyes set on yours. He bends his spine so he can reach your face closer, his pink lips hovering off yours. 

You pull back, clearing your throat in the process. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” 

“Yeah, sure,” he coughs. 

You walk to the kitchen, holding onto your wounded torso. Peter’s eyes dropped to your underwear-clad ass, his cheeks blushed from the shame. Stop ogling your best friend Peter. 

You find the fridge bare of any beverage, you turn your head back to see Peter staring at your ass, his face absent of any expression. 

“Stop staring at my ass!” you shouted, throwing a kitchen cloth at him. “Plus, where’s all the beer.”

“I was not!” he shouted back. “And I think I drank all of it.”

You let out a sigh. You found a can of Coke on the bottom shelf of the fridge. You jumped to sit on the kitchen counter, your legs dangling off the linoleum countertop. The liquid sizzles as you chug it, the brown syrupy consistency dripping from the side of your mouth to your bare chest. 

Fuck it. Peter walks to the kitchen, joining you. “If you want to seduce me you could just say it.”

“Seduce you?” you laughed. “And why would I do that?”

Your legs wrap around his waist. He takes the can from your hand, drinking the rest of it before placing it on the counter. “Because you’re like that, always making sure I can see that ass around,” he whispers to your neck. 

Your head falls back from his kisses, your hands spread behind you for stability. He pulls your underwear off, your erection pointing north. He licks a strip underneath, you shudder from the sudden sensation. 

He wrapped his long fingers around it, stroking it with his saliva, the only thing you could let out was a moan. He lifted you up the counter so your legs were mounted on his shoulders. He takes his digits inside his mouth, lubing it before pressing it into your hole. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. 

“Feel good, huh?” he said. His fingers curl up inside you, teasing your sensitive spot. Your body winces from the sensation, your legs automatically closing on his head. He strokes your erection again, simultaneously stimulating your prostate. The combined sensation made your legs weak, and your arms almost collapsing. “To be honest, you’re the only one I do this to, Spidey.”

“Liar,” you let out a groan. “I know you kicked yourself over and over for not bagging Gwen.”

His grip on your cock tightened, his fingers went deeper. “Aw, are you jealous of her?”

“You lost your virginity to me asshole,” you whimper. “I get to ride that dick, not her.”

“Ride?” he chuckles. He pulls back, his hands wet with spit. “Go at it then. Ride me.”

 The two of you were in his bed now. Peter sitting on the bed as you sucked him off. His hand found your head, running it through your hair. “Fuck baby,” he moans.

Your head bobs on his tip, your tongue licking around his head as you take him in. Your free hand was stroking his length, it was long enough that it was actually difficult to take him all in your throat. 

“Fuck the blowjob, just ride me please,” he whimpers. 

“I was preparing it you dick,” you said. “I can’t fit all that without some lube.”

You straddle his legs, aligning his tip against your hole. Your hands find his broad shoulders for support. The two of you moan from the contact. You hole slowly taking his length in. Peter shuddered from the warmth enveloping his erection. He cursed, he could cum from this alone. 

 You looked beautiful, Peter thought. Your hips moving against his sex, your eyes lidded, and your mouth agape, the sweetest moans leaving your lips. It was a sight he could look at forever. He takes your faces to his lips pressing them together. You let out soft whimpers, Peter blushes from the sounds. 

“It’s too fucking big,” you groan. 

“You can take it, baby, please, do it for me,” Peter moans. 

He was a mess, you thought. All sweaty and red. He didn’t have the enhanced stamina you had. Your hands fall on his toned abdomen, your fingers finding the ridges underneath his shirt. You moved your hips up and down his length, your brows furrowing from the amount of pressure on your behind. 

Peter stroked your erection as you continued riding him. His mouth was agape as your eyes locked on each other. You pulled him to you, your arms around his head as you quickened your pace. Your hips gyrated on his cock with such swiftness Peter’s cock felt like it was being bombarded with so much stimuli he could combust into flames. 

“Shit, I’m close–” 

“Me too, Peter,” you moan. “Cum in me.”

“You sure?” he said. You nod against the whimpers. 

Peter rocks his hips against your ass, gripping onto the mounds of flesh. Your body draws out the pleasure from him as you move your hips. He could let out curses, pleading for release. From the same beat of your movement, the two of you let out your climax, your own release covering his torso as he filled you. 

You lay in bed catching your breath. “This was probably bad for your stitches,” he said, his brown hair drenched. 

“Yeah, I think I tore it again,” you breathed heavily. 

It was probably a mistake. For you to continue this charade with Peter. To exchange bodily pleasure knowing your heart beat only for him, but it was a mistake you were ready to commit over and over again.

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 7: Glitter Glue

mmmm, have some more pain, as a treat, from me to you, I was thinking about Unrequited Something by @sinister-sincerely while writing this, hope I was able to match up, the way you write unrequited feelings is SO GOOD fr fr

Word count: 877

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"What do you think? What do you think?" A piece of paper is shoved hurriedly in your face by small hands.

You laugh, gently guiding them down, "It's very lovely, Kylee. I really love the variety in the glitter glue you used. What do you think, Sun?"

You turn in his direction, but find he's not there. Instead, he's chatting with the other helper, Kate. Not you. Right. You forgot. 

But, Kylee is determined, and makes that very clear to everyone. 

"Sunny!" She whines, startling both the other helper and the Attendant, "What do you think of my picture?"

He quickly rushes over, rays a twitter, "Oh, oh, oh! I'm sorry, Sunbeam! Let me see here."

The bot bends down then to examine it, which happens to be right beside you. You feel your face heat up and do your best to ignore him. You really needed to get over this little crush of yours. It was starting to interfere with work now. Of course it didn't help that you worked with your crush(es) and-

You slapped your cheeks a few times, get a grip!

"-Starlight?"

"Huh?" You ask, turning slightly. 

You find Sun staring at you intently, "I asked if everything was alright, that looked like it hurt!"

"O-oh, yeah. I'm good. Just, just trying to clear my head, haha," You shift your gaze to the side.

Unfortunately for you, Sun doesn't seem to like that.

He takes your head in his hands and starts moving your face this way and that, "There are better ways to focus than that, friend! What if you gave yourself a serious injury?"

"I don't think a couple slaps to the face would cause that much damage," You giggle.

His continuous scolding and fretting only makes your blush deepen and you do your best to try and get it under control. You fail miserably. 

Someone clears their throat. Immediately you both separate. 

It's Kate, "Sunny, I think you have more drawings to provide feedback on."

Sure enough, there's a, rather long, line of kids wanting Sun to praise their work. 

"Of course! All art deserves recognition after all!"

With that he's off, leaving you with your feelings which you need to let die already. Oh, and Kate.

She bends down to your level, cupping her hand around her mouth, "Why don't you just tell him?"

"Tell him what?" You question. 

She rolls her eyes, "That you like him! You should tell him, I'll bet he feels the same."

"Oh, no, no. I don't um, I don't like him, like that," You look away, mumbling, "He doesn't like me either, for that matter."

Kate raises a brow; it makes you shrink in on yourself. 

Then, both brows raise in surprise, "Wait, you're serious?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, why don't you just go ask him, come on," She grabs your hand. 

You start to panic, "No!"

Kate stops. 

"I-" You bite your cheek, sighing, "Please. I'd rather not. He, he likes someone else."

"Oh. Shi-shoot, I'm sorry. God you must think I'm a jerk."

You put your hands up, eyes widening, "No, no! You're okay, it's, it's not your fault."

But deep down, there's a very bitter, very shameful part of you that can't help but blame her. 

Because Kate is the one Sun likes. You know, because he told you.

You remember when you found out, you'd stayed late to help prep crafts for the next day. The two of you had been casually conversing when the topic had gotten brought up. 

"I just think love is such a fun emotion!" Sun's rays spin, "It's so complex, and yet so simple."

You laugh, "I guess so. Do you have anybody you love?"

"Of course! I love my friends, the children, Moon, you-"

Had he stopped there you would have melted on the spot. But unfortunately for you, he didn't.

"-And then of course," His voice grows softer, syrupy, lovesick, "Kate."

And in an instant, your heart shatters. 

Of course. Of course it wasn't you, why would it ever be you? Stupid, you were stupid for even beginning to think you had a chance. What good were you? What could you even-

"Sunshine? Is everything alright?"

You focus back in, swallowing down your feelings, "Yeah, of course."

"Did, I didn't say anything wrong, did I?" Sun's rays shrink.

"Not at all!" You beam, but inside you're crumbling. 

He perks up instantly, "Okay! So as I was saying..."

It had been a while ago, back around when you'd first started and Kate had been there some time. You think maybe he hadn't intended to let you know about the crush, and was just happy with admiring her from afar. You didn't know, or care really. It wasn't your business. 

Even if you wanted it to be.

Badly.

"Well hey, you never know," Kate says, then reaches into her pocket, handing you a handkerchief, "Here. You've got glitter glue on your face."

You take it, smiling, "Thanks."

Had you taken the chance to look at yourself before wiping off, you'd realize that the marks on your cheeks had been traced into two hearts. Your fellow helper would have told you this, but based on your insistence simply considered it a matter of coincidence. 

What a shame.

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Not a spooky one, but still angsty nontheless! Hope you all enjoyed, you can find my promptober masterlist here, thanks for reading!

[falafelluva]

warnings: not a warning but to the anon who sent in a request with a flower emoji and something with that my fics make them giggle pls resend it because my phone glitched and it got deleted n now I feel bad 😞😞💔!

Girllll 🥹🥹🥹🥹

I forgot it HAHAHAHAHAH BUT I HAVE SOMETHING NEW 👀 kenny crushing on his younger cousins babysitter and is literally making things up just to stop by etc.

; 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: the req

warnings: x

author’s note: scuse my disappearance yall, they r trying to put me in a mental hospital. This is so short because im trying to eat my rice and I made u guys study psychology in this 😔😥

It started as nothing more than a coincidence—or at least, that’s what Kenan told himself. His cousin Leila had a babysitter now, someone his aunt had raved about over the phone. “She’s amazing with kids,” his aunt had said, “Leila loves her.”

Kenan didn’t think much of it until the first time he stopped by his aunt’s house and saw you sitting on the couch, Leila sprawled across your lap with her favorite picture book in hand.

You looked up and smiled, warm and effortless, and Kenan swore his heart stopped for a second.

“Hi,” you said casually, brushing off the dust from the book

Kenan cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “Hey. Uh, I’m Kenan. Leila’s cousin.”

“I know,” you replied with a small laugh. “She talks about you all the time, star boy, right?”

Star boy.

From that moment, Kenan couldn’t help himself. Anytime he had a free afternoon, he found a reason to stop by his aunt’s house.

Dropping off snacks for Leila, picking up a book he ‘forgot’ the last time, or even randomly asking his aunt if she needed help with errands.

The truth? He just wanted to see you.

One Wednesday afternoon, you were in the kitchen cutting up some fruit for Leila when the doorbell rang.

You frowned—his aunt wasn’t due home for another couple of hours.

When you opened the door, there he was. Kenan stood on the porch, hands stuffed in his pockets, his signature sheepish grin plastered across his face.

“Hey,” he said, glancing over your shoulder. “Is, uh, my aunt home?”

You raised an eyebrow. “No, she’s still at work. You didn’t know that?”

“Oh… right. Must’ve mixed up the time.” He scratched the back of his neck, clearly caught off guard by your question.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a teasing smile on your lips.

“You’ve been stopping by a lot lately. Are you sure you’re not just here for the snacks?”

Kenan laughed nervously, feeling his ears heat up. “Maybe. Leila does have good taste.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, unconvinced but amused. “Come in. She’s in the living room drawing.”

Kenan stepped inside, pretending to head straight for his cousin, but his gaze kept drifting toward you.

You were wearing a simple outfit—jeans and a t-shirt—but somehow, you made it look effortless.

He sat with Leila for a few minutes, watching her color in her sketchbook, but when she got distracted by her favorite cartoon, he wandered back into the kitchen.

“You’re good with her,” he said, leaning against the counter as you wiped down the cutting board.

You glanced at him, a hint of surprise in your expression. “Thanks. She’s a sweet kid. Makes my job easy.”

Kenan nodded, his heart racing as he searched for something else to say.

He wasn’t usually like this—nervous and fumbling for words. But there was something about you that made him feel like a teenager again.

“You’re, uh, studying?” he asked, motioning to the notebook you’d left open on the counter.

“Yeah, just some school stuff. Nothing exciting.”

“What are you studying?”

“Psychology,” you replied, setting the board aside. “I want to work with kids one day. Maybe as a counselor or therapist.”

“That’s cool,” Kenan said, genuinely impressed. “You’d be great at that.”

“Thanks.” You smiled, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

Just then, Leila called for you from the living room. You excused yourself, leaving Kenan alone in the kitchen, staring at the counter like an idiot.

“What am I doing?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

—

The next time he stopped by, he didn’t even bother coming up with an excuse. He showed up with a bag of snacks for Leila and walked in like he belonged there.

You were on the floor with Leila, helping her put together a puzzle, when you glanced up and spotted him.

“Back again?” you teased, your eyes sparkling.

Kenan shrugged, trying to keep his voice casual. “What can I say? I like spending time with my favorite cousin.”

Leila looked up and beamed. “Kenan!”

“See?” he said, grinning as he sat down next to you. “She’s always happy to see me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Uh-huh. And it has nothing to do with the snacks you always bring.”

“Hey, I know how to win people over,” he said, smirking.

As the afternoon went on, you noticed the way Kenan’s attention kept shifting from Leila to you.

He asked you about your classes, your favorite movies, even what music you liked. It was almost… sweet.

When his aunt finally came home, you were packing up your bag while Kenan lingered by the door.

“Need a ride home?” he offered, his tone casual but his heart pounding.

You looked at him, surprised. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said, grinning. “But I want to.”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

As you climbed into his car, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Kenan was charming, in a slightly awkward but undeniably endearing way.

And Kenan?

He felt like he’d won the lottery just having you in the passenger seat, laughing at his jokes and filling the car with your presence.

Maybe his excuses weren’t so bad after all.

[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.

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Headcanon: Just because they are dating it doesn't mean they are less awkward

I was answering a comment I got, when I started thinking about what would happen if Miles and Gwen started dating?

My first thought: "Oh the adaptation period is going to be fun."

Both in fiction and in real life, you can have a period of time when friends who had been crushing for too long may be trying to not come too strong to the other person in case their new partner hasn't fallen as deeply in love as themselves.

Do I think this would happen with Miles and Gwen? Oh for sure.

Gwen in general tries to hide her emotions and while I think being with Miles will loosen her up a bit, I think she may get shy about how much she likes him (specially considering some things she did while crushing.) Miles I think would do so as well, since it has been his normal to try to tone down his crush, and seeing how "collected" Gwen can be, would try to act "cool."

All of this rambling is now for a list of headcanons of the stupid things they did because of this and that they try to hide from each other before they realize how silly they are.

Let's go!

They both do a victory lap, or the spidey equivalent, swinging across their respective New York after Miles asked Gwen out.

Miles is the loudest, swinging across the streets while screaming in excitement a few times, including one time when he screams "SHE LIKES MEEEEEE."

This ends up with a bunch of people online not only reposting clips of the video where he screams that, but people speculating who could be the mystery girl who seems to like him. Miles panics thinking Gwen may think he is cheating on her and Ganke needs to be there to calm him down and devise a plan to get gossip people into something else.

Gwen isn't much better, she doesn't really scream anything, however she ends up doing a bunch of daredevil tricks and jumps because her excitement manifests in see-how-many-gymnastics-record-I-can-break.

She ends up scaring the living shit out of her dad, who was trying to react very normally when a coworker show him a clip of just a part of it (she literally did this by a good part of the city, so there are different videos.) The gymnastic Olympic team of the United States is once again trying to recruit Spider-Woman. There are now people making recompilations of videos to see if there is a way to catch the whole thing, and some people had noticed that in some clips it almost looks like she is squealing.

Gwen recruited Peni's help to take down the most incriminating videos, mostly because it was impossible to take all of them down. She also begged Peni to have a way for her dad to not find some videos on his phone. I imagine her dad may be a bit protective of her and while Gwen told him she is dating Miles, she doesn't want her dad to realize how madly she is in love with him.

(He knows, he remembers the Polaroid.)

Because of this, the first few days together they try end up planning dates in other universes, because both of them are waiting for those videos to not be trending. Gwen ends up dancing with Miles in Hobie's universe, while Miles shows Gwen a crazy arcade in Margo's universe.

Miles is ALWAYS smiling, depending on how much he has been in his mind he may look more lovesick or casual. Everyone has been teasing him, Ganke, his parents and Peter B the most.

I already headcanon that Gwen is actually a cuddle bug, she just has trouble leaning into others because of her vulnerability issues. So Gwen is constantly trying to measure how much she tries to hug him, to not look too eager to take his hand or lean on his shoulder. Is a tougher battle than she ever wants to admit.

Miles ends up drawing Gwen even more often, especially since he has pictures of her and stuff; so before he knows it, he ends up with this beautiful mural of her. He isn't sure when to reveal it to her because he has added so many little detail and drawings he is afraid to come out as creepy.

Like many people, I headcanon Gwen has tried writing songs about Miles. Well the new relationship status made her finish one of those songs, which her bandmates liking, and Hobie also insisted she should play it next time in his universe.

"Next Time" ends up having the spideygang (Miles, Pavitr, Margo and Peni,) at the concert. Hobie remarks that the next song is written by his drummer, and it doesn't take long for Miles to be smiling once more like a lovesick puppy once the lyrics appear.

Gwen is a bit embarrassed, but he says he loved the song, and he would love to hear more if she ever does. He shares some of his art, and she is, of course, melting.

He doesn't take too long before showing Gwen the mural, and Gwen loves it. Is hidden below a bridge, in a place you can only see while being upside down; and she adores how Miles shown her drumming, her dance, he captures her from her eyes to the little tooth gap she has, and yet Gwen cannot stop being amazed at how despite showing all those things she considers flaws, she looks beautiful in all of them.

Miles shrugs saying "I just draw you like I see you."

And THEN, they become a couple of dorks in love who everyone else is getting kind of sick of how corny they are. But they are kind of stupid for each other and had been holding it for a while, so why not scream it from the rooftops?

[littleplantfreak]

Say my name - Sakura Haruka

Normally I'm bad with titles but without further ado! A ficlet(?) about Sakura struggling to call his lovely partner by their first name! It's SFW (but still under the cut) btw

I tried to keep it they/them for neutrality but if you find a stray 'she' somewhere that's my bad

(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

“I really don’t know what to do with him Suo! Every time he tries to say it he just freezes and sputters until he calls me ‘you’ or he changes it to another word last minute. Last week he tried so hard he nearly turned purple and gave himself a headache!” whining, you practically drape yourself over the table in defeat.

“Wow…our captain really is shy when it comes to that stuff, huh?” Suo’s holding back but you can tell he wants to laugh. Once Sakura shows up he’ll throw a teasing remark or two in but you’ll still be at square one.

“Maybe a nickname? Or what if you don’t look at him when he says it? What if he spells it out-“

“I don’t think we need to go that far,” interjecting gently before Nirei could start going through an insane list of things that may or may not actually work for the present problem, Suo leans forward, looking at you from across the table. “There’s something we can try that might work if you're up for it."

——

It’s not a bad plan actually, if more simple than you thought it’d be. You’re waiting behind the support wall in the middle of Cafe Pothos, obscured from anyone just walking in. Nirei and Suo are at the same table near the front that you were at before, and Kotoha is cleaning dishes at the sink, though she knows what’s going on and has a ear turned towards the main stage of this event making sure she doesn’t miss a thing.

From where you’re peeking before Haruka opens the door, you can see Nirei’s tense shoulders, both trying and failing to appear casual not that your boyfriend will pay it any mind. Sometimes you're afraid he'll end up like Hiragi and his nervous stomach issues. Suo is the picture of tranquility as he eyes Nirei’s notebook before greeting Haruka. You hear your boyfriend stop, possibly looking around for where you said you’d be waiting for him earlier.

“Where’s-”

“A-ah…”

“Bathroom~,” Suo singsongs smoothing over his partner’s stuttering. “By the way, Nirei’s been wondering about their first name! It seems the notebook page he has on them is incomplete without it…” he’s drawing attention, not to the boy himself, but the pen and notebook he’s gripping on to waiting on Sakura to take the bait. Nirei had opted for silence as he clicks his pen and as if to write it down.

"It’s-" a short pause before he actual says the full weight of your name, matter of factly too, without fumbling it at all and you’re suddenly too giddy to contain yourself.

“S-Sorry I wasn’t listening. Could you say it again?” Nirei squeaks out.

There’s annoyance in his voice as Sakura says it again, and before he can get anything else out, you’ve decided this is your cue.

“Yes, Haruka?” You blink looking at him, poorly portraying innocence but you can tell blood is rushing to your face and you cannot rub your smile off if you tried.

“Oh my~ Sakura you’re so bold calling your partner by their first name!” Red eyes glittering wickedly as he taunts “How romantic!” He gasps with a hand over his mouth. Looking flustered but proud is Nirei, nodding vigorously, and Kotoha giving Sakura a pat on the back in congratulations. You’re proud of him yourself, despite having to coax your name out of him with the help of his vice captains.

He's wide-eyed going between you and Suo, gears clicking in to place that he'd been set up as he settles for firing at the brunette "Wha- you- I'm GONNA KNOCK YA-,"

"Oookay we're heading out now!" Before he starts a fight, you link an arm through his and begin leading him towards the door. He’s puffed up like an angry cat but his body completely yields when it’s you who’s maneuvering him away the cafe after saying a quick goodbye to everyone.

It's quiet, the path you take through town on the way to your house and he doesn't look at you when he mumbles a quiet apology. You aren't quite sure what he’s apologizing for but you stop walking and wait for him to start speaking again.

“Sorry fer takin’ so long to say it.” He’s still not looking at you but your heart breaks a little at how small he sounds. You touch his cheek enough for him to turn and look at you, uncertainty clear in his bi-colored eyes.

“Honey I never meant to rush you. If you’re still working on it that’s okay! I never wanna make you feel uncomfortable,” brows knit together in worry now that you’re holding his face in both hands, searching signs that you took it too far.

“I think I’ll be able to say it now - especially if it makes ya look as happy as ya did at the cafe. Not all the time, but when we're alone I think I can." He’s almost fully settled into your hands now, melting into warmth he’d been craving since he woke up this morning. He always wondered how such soft hands could touch something as rough as him and still continue to make the effort to hold him. You wait for him to finish soaking up his much needed affection for a few more minutes and then you're both walking again, slowed by the urge to stay close for as long as possible.

----

"...and she popped out from behind the pillar and said "Yes, Haruka?"" Kotoha mimics your voice as she's giving Umemiya the rundown of what he missed.

"He's growing up so fast!" He wails theatrically wiping a tear from his eye.

"He's changed a lot since he came here, and even more since they started dating. I think he's getting soft with how fast they were able to drag him away without a fight."

"So he went from alley cat to house cat huh. Nothing wrong with that." he grins digging into his omurice. Kotoha smiles and hums in agreement. Nothing wrong with that in the slightest.